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joelscruff · 1 year ago

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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART NINE

previous chapters | welp. hey everybody, it's been a little while since this updated, huh? those who follow me will know i haven't been having the best time lately and had to put this fic on hold for a little bit. but finally an update is here, and i'm so excited to share it with you. thank you so much for being so patient and lovely. i also wanna give a huge shoutout to han @swiftispunk who's been there for me relentlessly throughout this rough period and who kept encouraging me whenever i thought this would never get written. i couldn't ask for a better writing buddy & friend, ilysm. i hope you guys like this chapter and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: joel is taking you away for the weekend, which only means one thing: your v card is going bye-bye. rating: 18+ explicit warnings for this chapter: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, tummy bulge, oral (f receiving), catholic guilt, panic attacks, phone sex, mutual masturbation, lap sitting, lingerie, fingering, there is so much goin on pls lmk if i forgot smth word count: 25k (what the fuck) ao3

It's crazy how one weekend can change everything.

After days of feeling like shit and wanting - or forcing yourself to want - absolutely nothing to do with Joel anymore, you'd wound up naked in bed together. An ironic twist to the men ain't shit mantra you and Tasha had been trying to live by for the past forty eight hours. You'd laid with your head on his chest, exhausted and sated, listening to his and your own equally haggard breathing slow to a quiet thrum of background noise. You'd kissed the spot above his nipple, soft and warm against your lips as he carded his fingers through your hair and peppered kisses all along the crown of your head.

"So you're taking me away, huh?" you'd asked him in the heavenly afterglow of your orgasms, still tangled together under the sheets.

He'd smiled sleepily, squeezed you tighter in his arms and pulled you in as close as he could, "I'm takin' you away," he'd promised quietly, "Just you n' me. Gonna make this right."

Unbeknownst to him, everything had already become right again the moment he'd walked through the bedroom door.

Tasha had come back about an hour after you'd finished, roused you both from a quick nap by knocking quietly at the door and saying, "Hate to bother you guys but we gotta be out of here by four and the place is a disaster." Looking down at the mascara stained pillowcase beneath your head, you'd known she was right.

A few hours later you'd stood at the airport once again, arms wrapped tightly around Tasha as you buried your face in her shoulder and thanked her over and over again for everything; for being there, for listening, for understanding, for texting Joel, everything.

"You're gonna make me cry," she'd mumbled in your ear, hugging you back just as tightly, "Please, I just did what a good friend does."

You'd hoped she knew that she's the first good friend you've ever had.

Just before she'd headed to her gate, she'd pulled something out of her purse and handed it to you discreetly, palm down. You'd glanced downward to see a little blue package, thin and rectangular.

"Start taking these tonight," she'd said softly, "Take one every day at the same time. Promise me."

"What is it?"

She'd rolled her eyes, "Oh, you sweet summer child."

You know what birth control is. You're not that clueless. You just.... haven't really seen it before.

Now, having a pack of it in your possession, in your bedroom of all places, hidden in one of your dresser drawers beneath socks and underwear... it somehow feels more scandalous than the bikini. More scandalous than Joel's flannel beneath your mattress. More scandalous than those short little dresses folded in a bag in the back of your closet.

Birth control means sex. If your parents found your clothing purchases or Joel's flannel you could probably get away with some kind of lie, an excuse. But if they found this.... you don't even want to think about what would happen.

Take one every day at the same time. Promise me.

You pop out a pill quickly before shoving the package back into your dresser, then hurry to the bathroom with it tucked in your palm, clasped tightly between your fingers. You take it quickly with a handful of water and then stare at your reflection in the mirror for a moment, eyes bright. You're expecting to feel an ounce of shame, some guilt creeping in - but you don't. Instead, you find yourself smiling, face going hot when you think about the reason why you're taking these in the first place.

"Dinner's ready!" you hear your mom call from downstairs, and you yank yourself away from the bathroom mirror before your thoughts can get any more X rated.

She hadn't said anything to you when you got home, but then again you hadn't really given her a chance to. Now you shuffle into the kitchen and take a seat at the table, eyeing her quietly and wondering if the silent treatment is over. Your father comes in from the living room before you can find out, taking his usual seat and giving you a stern look.

"I heard you spent the weekend with one of your college friends," he states.

You stare at him for a second, unsure what to really say. You settle for a shrug, "Uh, yeah. Just had a girls' weekend at an Airbnb."

"I'm just curious why you're making time for friends you'll be seeing again in September when there are people here you've barely even said hello to," he raises an eyebrow, squaring his shoulders, "You said the other week you'd be volunteering again, didn't you? Doing more things to better yourself?"

"Well, I helped out at Sunday School," you offer with a grimace, but you already know it's not enough.

"I'm not talking about helping out here and there every now and then," he shakes his head and eyes your mother as she walks over with two plates of dinner, places them in front of the both of you without making eye contact, "You need a weekly activity, something steady, right dear?"

Your mother's gaze flits to yours quickly as he says this and you know exactly what she's thinking without her having to say it: do not mention the guitar lessons. But what the fuck are you supposed to say? You get that she doesn't want your father knowing until your little "plan" has bore a little more fruit, but it isn't fair that he still thinks you need some kind of weekly activity to attend when you already have one. Or, at least, a cover for one.

Maybe your mother can solve this problem for you.

"Well, actually-" you begin, only bluffing, but she bangs the water jug on the table before you can continue.

"I'll work on it with her, don't worry," she says quickly, shaking her head at you as discreetly as she can, "We'll figure something out together."

As usual, your father is oblivious to anything amiss. He just nods and extends his hands to start the prayer, "Sounds good."

Dinner is the usual boring affair, barely any conversation to be had as your father scarfs it down and heads to his office, leaving you and your mother sitting at the table in silence. You poke absentmindedly at your broccoli, thinking about Joel - he wants to see you again tonight, maybe talk about some stuff, and you're not really sure how to feel about it yet; you want to know more about his ex wife, his daughter, want to understand him and his life a little better, but it also scares you a bit. Hearing about his relationship with another woman - a woman who clearly still has a prominent position in his life - it's gonna be a lot to take in.

He also wants to talk about taking you away - a much less scary thought.

"So, you had a good weekend?" your mom asks quietly, and you look up in surprise - you'd thought the silent treatment was still ongoing.

"Yeah, it was nice," you reply - simplistic and not a very true answer, but it's not like you can tell her about anything that happened.

"What did you do?"

You shrug again, "Just watched movies and hung out, talked about how our summers have been going," you take a bite of broccoli and hope she won't press it any further.

"Did you go to your lesson on Saturday?"

You nod quickly, swallowing and doing your best to keep eye contact, "Yep, I learned some new chords." Bullshit. "Mr. Miller is a really good teacher." Less bullshit.

She doesn't say anything else right away and you manage to completely finish your meal before she drops her fork and turns to you with a sigh. "I know what you're thinking and no, I still haven't told your father about it. I already explained why-"

"Because you don't want him getting involved before I've made progress, I know."

"So have you? Been making progress?"

Oh, the things you could say in response to that question. "I think I have. He's, um... he's been very interested in the hymns."

"Which ones are you learning?"

Oh fuck.

"It's a surprise," you say quickly, flashing her a fake smile, "Don't wanna jinx it, ya know?"

Her brows furrow but she doesn't question it, nodding slowly and taking a deep breath as she grabs both your plates and walks to the sink. You sit there for a moment, not wanting to get up until you know for sure the conversation is over.

"So it's working, you think?" she finally asks, turning on the tap and rinsing the dishes, "You're helpin' him?"

You swallow, thankful she's not looking at you as your hands ball into fists against the wood of the table, "Yes," you lie quietly, "Definitely."

"You need to teach me a hymn," is the first thing you say to Joel that night as you walk through his front door, passing right by him without so much as a hug, "Or two. Two hymns, maybe three, I don't know."

"Hello to you too," he says with a chuckle, shutting the door and walking over to you to wrap his arms around you from behind, "S'wrong? You alright?"

You have to admit, being wrapped in his arms certainly does make the anxiety ebb away. You close your eyes and lean back into his grasp, sighing deeply and trying to ground yourself as best you can. Ever since that conversation with your mother you feel like your brain has been working on overdrive, reminding you over and over that you're so fucking behind on what you're meant to be doing to keep this façade intact.

"I'm just stressed," you mutter, "My mom asked about the lessons and I didn't know what to say and now I'm all up in my own head again as usual."

You feel him tuck his head against your shoulder, squeeze you tighter, "Hey, it's okay," he murmurs, breath so warm against your ear it makes you shiver, "We'll find a couple easy ones and I'll teach you. You can borrow my guitar too, practice at home."

"My dad still doesn't know," you sigh, "She's waiting for me to have some sort of breakthrough with you to tell him."

He snorts, "And what exactly does this 'breakthrough' look like?"

"I don't know, a pool of golden light? Heavenly angels singing praise?"

He chuckles against your skin, pressing a kiss there, "Well, that'll be easy. That happens every time I make you come."

You feel your cheeks bloom with heat, lips tightening into a bashful smile as he pulls you in closer and noses your ear once again, scruff tickling the skin there. You hum contentedly, pretending for a moment that your parents aren't involved on the sidelines of this relationship, that their opinions don't matter and there doesn't need to be any sort of ulterior reason for your being here - then you remember that you're going to have a whole weekend to pretend that's the case, and you smile wider.

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his torso and peering up at him. He's so handsome as usual, hair messy, eyes brown and deep. It's impossible not to lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips, so of course you do, eyes closing as you melt against his mouth. He kisses you back just as soft, rubs your back gently as he holds you close.

"I'm so sorry, angel," he murmurs quietly against your lips, and you find yourself pulling away to look at him in confusion.

"For what?"

He shakes his head, eyes sad, "For everythin' I put you through this weekend, all that added stress," you go to interrupt but he brings one of his hands up to gently press his finger to your lips, stopping you, "Don't tell me not to apologize. I did wrong by you. I wanna fix it."

You swallow, remembering the woman at the bar - his ex wife, remembering the way he'd smiled before he kissed her, the way those soft brown eyes looking at you right now had looked directly into hers as well...

Your stomach twists uncomfortably.

"I meant what I said, about tellin' you everything," he murmurs, "I want... I want you to know me, ya know? I..." he breathes deeply, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours, "God, I'm not good at this."

"Good at what?" you whisper, and you feel him shrug in your embrace.

"Just.... bein' open."

You pull back a bit to peer at him again, feeling your stomach unclench when you see that unsure look on his face, the worry lines prominent on his forehead and those plump lips downturned into a frown. He's still afraid he's lost you, you can tell.

"Well, I wanna hear what you have to say," you murmur, "I do wanna learn more about you. But it's okay, Joel. I'm not heartbroken, not anymore."

He winces at your words, "But you were," he closes his eyes again, "You were heartbroken, baby. I hurt you. We... she -" he cuts himself off to sigh, "She didn't know about you when she kissed me, alright? I hadn't told her, and that's on me."

Oh. You didn't know that.

"Why... why didn't you tell her?"

"Because I was a coward," he says immediately, "I didn't... I wasn't..." he takes another deep breath and pulls away from you, unlocking himself from your embrace to grip your arms in both his hands, "Okay," he breathes, "I'm really bad at this, darlin', forgive me if it comes out weird."

You're not sure what he's about to say but you can feel your heart beginning to beat faster in your chest as he stands there looking at you, brow furrowed as if he's completely out of his element, and you suppose he is.

"I haven't... god, I don't wanna scare you but..." he chews his lip for a moment, lost in thought, "I just... I meant it, when I said that I think about you all the time. I really, really meant it."

You stare at him for a moment, processing his words. What is he saying? That he didn't tell his ex wife about you because of how much he thinks about you? How does that make sense? You silently curse yourself for your naivety, your inexperience with relationships. You're sure if Tasha was here she'd be able to tell you exactly what he means.

You're about to ask him to elaborate when you suddenly catch a glimpse of something on the mantel of the fireplace, something that you can't recall ever seeing before. Your eyes go slightly wide and he notices immediately, following your gaze.

"Oh," he says quietly, "Um, yeah, I... I put up some pictures."

His grip on your arms releases when he realizes you want to get a closer look. You make your way over to the fireplace with careful steps, eyeing the framed photograph in front of you as it slowly comes more into focus.

It's Joel - a much younger Joel. You're not sure how young, but there are no signs of age on his face, skin smooth and bare and hair trimmed neatly beneath a baseball cap. He's standing behind a swing, pushing an adorable little toddler in front of him, a big smile on her face as she kicks her chubby legs high into the air.

You stare at it for a long time without saying anything, warmth bursting through your chest the longer your gaze flicks from him to the baby, the baby to him. There's something in her brown eyes, something recognizable, and you realize it's because they're his eyes.

You're looking at his daughter.

"What's her name?" you finally ask, voice soft.

"Sarah," he replies - he sounds close behind you but he doesn't touch you, doesn't make any move to embrace you again, just lets you absorb the information in your own time.

"Sarah," you repeat quietly, thoughtfully, "How old is she there?"

"Few days before her second birthday," he says, and you swear you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice, "Installed that swing set in the backyard for her as a present, but I couldn't wait 'til her birthday to show her - I was too excited."

You smile at his words, feeling fondness flood your thoughts as your gaze falls back to the much younger Joel. He looks a little like the boys you've seen at college, extremely handsome but inexperienced, naïve, maybe even a little lost... kind of like you. You squint your eyes a bit, as if staring at him will help you figure out exactly how old he is.

"I'm twenty in that one," he answers for you.

Your eyebrows shoot up and you finally turn around to look at him, a look of shock prominent on your face. "But... that would mean you had her -"

"When I was eighteen, yeah," he gives you a wistful half smile, "Remember that 'trouble' I told you I got in right outta high school? The mysterious thing I did that got me disowned?" he gestures toward the photo with a light chuckle, "Well, there she is. Little Miss Trouble, Sarah Miller."

Your brow furrows. You remember what he'd said on his back deck that day, the way he'd stopped himself from revealing too much. He'd been so close to telling you, and yet...

"Why didn't you just tell me then?" you ask softly, "That day in your backyard, you... you coulda told me about her."

His smile fades into a frown, eyes going downcast, "I was afraid," he admits softly, "I didn't... I didn't want this to end so soon. I didn't wanna scare you off."

You feel a pang in your heart, a sensation of sadness that bubbles up within you as you peer at his melancholic expression, the shame in his eyes. He really thinks you're five seconds away from running out the door, leaving his life for good and forgetting this whole thing between the two of you even happened. You can see it in his expression, the way he's standing like he's small, the same way he'd looked last night when Tasha had tugged you out of his house and into a cab.

You make your way toward him, palm outstretched as you reach up and press it to the side of his face. His gaze comes up to meet yours, watery and sad and - god, he's beautiful. So, so beautiful.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whisper honestly, shaking your head and smiling softly, "Not before you teach me at least two hymns."

His frown breaks into a grin and he rolls his eyes, the tears spilling over a little bit as he sniffs and tries to pull himself together. You just bring your other hand up to fully cup his face, turning his head so he's looking directly into your eyes.

"I mean it, Joel," you breathe, and you think you're starting to understand what he meant, "You say you think about me all the time, but... I think about you all the time. I can't stop thinking about you," your voice quivers a bit and you feel tears begin to sting in your own eyes, "Even when I was trying to force myself not to think about you, I couldn't do it."

You thumb his cheeks lightly, feeling them tighten under your palms as he smiles again. You can't help but lean forward to brush your nose against his, closing your eyes.

"I think... I don't know, I just feel like-"

"I know," he interjects softly, "I feel it too, angel. Scares the hell outta me, doesn't even seem possible to feel it after such a short length of time, but I do."

You open your eyes to peer at him again, "Is that why you didn't tell her? 'Cause you were scared of how you feel?"

"Yes," he murmurs, "I knew if I told her... if I let myself really feel what I've been feelin'... I'd have to face the fact that I'd been dishonest with you, that I hadn't been showin' you my true self, ya know? And that's... that's always been hard for me." He takes a breath, "She was real sad that night. She... she was comin' on strong, cause she really needed somebody. And I almost gave myself to her, you should know that. I don't wanna lie to you."

It hurts to hear it, but at the same time you're glad he's telling you, glad he feels safe to express himself the same way you do with him.

"We weren't... we weren't official or anything," you mumble, eyes casting downward.

"No, we weren't," he agrees softly, "But it still wouldn't've been right, angel, not for you and not for me. I didn't want it, I just... I just felt for her, ya know? We've been doin' this thing so long, it can be hard to say no, especially when it's someone you care about."

"But you did."

He nods, "I did. And then I told her about you and she understood."

You peer up at him again, unsure, "She understood? Really?"

He smiles, "She understood, sweetheart. She's a good person, I promise. But I also promise that I don't feel things for her the way I used to, not anymore. And our arrangement is over." He blinks away a few tears, locking his eyes with yours again, "Do you believe me?"

You nod slowly, taking in his words. You find that you do believe him, don't even question a word of what he's saying to you. It should probably scare you to trust him this much, to wholeheartedly sense nothing but earnestness from his demeanor and words, but it doesn't. It feels good to hear him say these things and to know that he means it, that he's finally being himself.

"So who are you then, really?" you ask softly, "Who's this whole other Joel Miller I've been missing out on?"

He laughs lightly, bumping his nose against yours, "Well, darlin'... he's old and he's boring, keeps to himself, works too much..." he takes a breath, then meets your gaze again, eyes soft and tender, "And he's fuckin' crazy about you."

His words embed themselves into your brain almost immediately, sending tingles up and down your spine as your arms come up to wrap around him and pull him into a kiss. He seems surprised by your response but only for a moment, then wraps his own arms around you and pulls you in as close as he can, cradles you as he kisses you back with that familiar warmth and safety you've always felt with him.

He's fuckin' crazy about you.

You find yourself moving the two of you toward the couch and he lets you, your legs tangling together as you shuffle over to it. You slowly settle onto it together, him sitting pretty beneath you while you situate yourself in his lap, a leg on either side of his thighs. You don't stop kissing him, whimpering softly into his mouth when his hand stills firmly on your back, holding you close.

"What're you doin', babygirl?" he breathes against your lips, voice dark and husky - he already knows the answer.

You don't reply, just deepen the kiss and grind yourself down into his crotch, feeling his already half hard cock press against you through your shorts. You whimper again, pulling back to look at him through lidded eyes.

"Huh?" he asks softly, his own eyes already dark and unfocused, "What're you doin', sweetheart? What d'you need?" He bucks his hips up with his words and you gasp, clinging to him tightly and resting your head on his shoulder. "Need my cock, don't you, baby?"

You nod even though he can't see you, close your eyes and whisper, "I need it so bad."

"Need it deep inside, huh?"

You swallow and shiver, grinding down against him again in response. He holds you firm in his lap and brings his lips to your ear, trails his fingers up and down your back.

"I'm gonna give it to you, baby, I promise," he murmurs, voice gravelly and low, "Gonna fill you up so good, have you cryin' on it."

You whimper again, squeezing your eyes tighter and imagining how it'll feel to have his enormous size spreading your insides, pushing into the deepest parts of you. It's almost too much to bear, too much to imagine as you whine into his shoulder. You want it now, but you also know that now isn't the right time.

"I- I started taking birth control," you whisper, clinging to him tighter.

He seems to freeze beneath you for a moment, and then his hands move down to squeeze your ass, drag you slowly down the length of him - now fully hard - as you whine again.

"Good girl," he whispers, pinning you to his cock through his jeans, "That's- fuck, you're such a good girl."

You keen at his praise, whimpering into his shoulder as he drags you back and forth along his cock, the denim rough against your bare thighs. You think about what you'd both done together earlier today, the way it felt to have his entire length thrusting through your folds, the head catching on your hole every so often. The way it felt to have the wide tip pressed just enough inside of you, warm and pulsing.

"Take it out, please," you moan softly, pulling back to look at him again, "Wanna feel it. Please, Joel."

He groans at your words, nods quickly and adjusts you carefully in his lap so he can tug down his zipper. You watch as he reaches inside and pulls himself out, and your mouth immediately begins to water as soon as you catch sight of the dark tip, already wet and leaking. Without any hesitation at all your hand moves downward to wrap around his shaft, holding it in your palm.

"This was inside me," you whisper, the words sounding wonderfully filthy in your mouth as your thumb traces his throbbing tip, remembering how it had felt pushing against you.

"Yeah, it was," he murmurs. He's watching you closely, looking up at you with a lustful expression as you touch him, "Felt so good inside you, baby. Wanted to push all the way in so bad, fill you up."

You shiver, "Why didn't you?"

"'Cause I wanna take my time with you, angel. Wanna fuck you slow, get you used to it," he groans when you start to slowly stroke him up and down, eyes not leaving where you're touching him, "Gonna have you beggin' for it."

Without much thought you reach down and start to tug pathetically at your shorts, wanting them off. The angle is awkward and you can't move them properly, something which he notices right away, eyebrows going up.

"You wanna rub on it again, sweetheart?" he asks, his hands going immediately to your waistband.

You nod furiously, desperate whimpers escaping your lips as he eases you up a bit to pull them down. You bend your legs to accommodate his movements, lifting from his lap for just a moment as he tugs down both your shorts and panties, leaving you bare. He wastes no time in pulling you back down again, both of you letting out simultaneous gasps as his cock slips perfectly against your center, wet and waiting.

"Joel," you whine, burying your face in his shoulder and letting him begin to drag you back and forth on his cock again without any clothes in the way. It feels so fucking good, both of your most intimate parts touching and rubbing in sweet and filthy harmony while you cry into his shirt. One of his hands snakes up your back, holds you firm again as he helps you move.

"That's my perfect angel," he murmurs in your ear, voice shaky, "Thaaaat's my pretty girl, so wet for me. Always so fuckin' wet."

"Can't help it," you sob into his shoulder, feeling your stomach tighten every time his warm cock rubs up against your clit, "Can't help it, Joel, feels so good. You make me feel so good."

"I know," he moans in your ear, "I know I do, baby, I know."

It doesn't take long at all for your orgasm to hit you, a high pitched whine clawing its way out of your throat as you frantically grind against his cock and then still as the waves of pleasure wash over you. He rubs your back, holds you close, lets you feel all of it before pressing a finger to your chin and gently turning your face to look at him.

"Yep," he breathes, assessing your expression, "there's that pool of golden light. Heavenly angels singin' praise. You hear 'em?"

You laugh shakily, still overwhelmed at the feeling of his cock continuing to pulse against your pussy. He keeps holding you there without moving, letting you come down from your high, allowing the moment to stay soft and peaceful as he watches your face. Your eyes are tired - you're still not fully recovered from your busy weekend and he can tell.

"You look sleepy, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "Want me to carry you up?"

You shake your head quickly, "No, I still gotta make you come. Just gimme a minute."

He chuckles, "You don't gotta do anything, honey. You know that right? Need you to know that you don't owe me anythin', not ever."

He really is too considerate for his own good, but there's absolutely no way you're gonna leave him hanging like that. With a sly smile you shake your head again and lift your hips up a bit, bringing your hand down to wrap around his cock again. His jaw goes slack, eyes still staring into yours as you start to stroke him again.

"I wanna make you come," you correct yourself, leaning forward to press a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth, "I want..." you drop your gaze bashfully, trying to let the dirty talk flow naturally like his does as you play with his cock, "I want you to make a mess on me."

"On you?" he asks, clearly surprised by your sudden boldness, "Where, baby? Where d'you want me to make a mess?"

With your other hand - slightly trembling - you pull your shirt up and palm the swell of your belly, just above your mound. He groans, low and lustful.

"On your tummy, baby?" he murmurs, "You want me to get your tummy all messy with my cum?"

You nod, biting down on your lip and pumping his cock faster, eyes coming back up to meet his gaze again as you get him off.

"Want it to drip down onto your pussy, huh?" he continues, brows drawing together in pleasure, "'Cause that's where it belongs, doesn't it?"

You nod again, "It does, Joel," you whisper, "It belongs there."

"You want me to come inside you this weekend, babygirl?" his voice is strained, so close to edge and you moan at his words, eyes still locked onto his, "Yeah, you do, don't you?"

"I do," you whimper, the truth stumbling from your lips before you can even really process it, "I want it so bad, Joel. Want you to fill me up."

With one last groan his eyes roll back and he starts to come all over your stomach, exactly where you'd wanted him to. Holding him in your hand while he comes is a brand new experience - his cock pulses and twitches within your grasp as he makes a strangled noise and brings his hand up to cover his face, overwhelmed by the sensation. You bite down on your lip and watch as his cum paints your skin in thick spurts, warm and thick.

"Fuck," he finally mutters after a moment of heavy breathing, bringing his hand down from his face to look at you again with a sated expression, "You're filthy, baby."

You feel your cheeks warm, eyes going down to where his cum drips down your belly. His gaze follows yours and he smirks, reaching forward to carefully thumb a bit that's trailing dangerously close to your pussy and pushing it up and away from where it shouldn't go - yet, anyway.

"In more ways than one," he murmurs softly, then meets your gaze again. Despite the depraved circumstances you still can't help but feel shy, head tilting away from him as you smile sheepishly and slip out of his lap, pretending not to hear the embarrassingly loud squelch of wet skin against wet skin. You see him grin in the corner of your eye, clearly still fond of your bashfulness.

"I'm gonna need a shower," you say shyly, eyeing your discarded shorts on the floor.

"Go shower, darlin'," he says, still seated on the couch with his legs open and his softening cock peeking through the open zipper of his jeans, "I'll get my bed all comfy for you."

At the mention of his bed you find a little bit of the anxiety from earlier return in the pit of your stomach, twisting uncomfortably. He notices your reaction immediately, a frown settling into his features as he assesses your expression.

"What is it?"

You avoid eye contact, biting your lip and awkwardly tugging your shirt down over your thighs so you're less exposed, "Um, I know nothing happened, I know you didn't... but um, did..." you grimace, "Did she..."

He stands up immediately, tugging his zipper as he goes and reaching you in a single stride, arms coming up to touch your shoulders. You look up and see him shaking his head, brown eyes softly searching yours.

"She wasn't in my bed, honey," he murmurs quietly, "I promise."

The anxiety settles, and you believe him.

You cuddle together in bed for a while after your shower, not really talking but just basking in the feeling of being together again after such a shitshow of a weekend. You're warm and comfy in one of Joel's band t-shirts while he lays beside you, spooning you from behind and pressing soft kisses to the exposed part of your neck every so often, his bare legs tangled with yours beneath the sheets.

Part of you still wants answers, wants to learn more about his relationship with his ex, but another part of you doesn't feel ready yet, doesn't want to ask those questions or face those truths. Your mind is running a mile a minute as you lay there without saying anything, brow furrowed as you weigh the pros and cons in your head.

"D'you wanna talk about it, angel?" Joel finally asks, almost like he can sense exactly what you're feeling, his arms tightening around you. Your eyes close and you sigh deeply, squishing the side of your face into his pillow.

"Talk about what?" you mumble, but he's not buying it.

"I know you have questions," he murmurs, kissing the back of your neck again - grounding you, reminding you that it's okay to be yourself here, "There must be a thousand flyin' around that beautiful head o'yours. And I want you to ask 'em."

You sigh again, quieter this time. He squeezes you and reaches up to pull some of your hair back from your cheek and push it behind your ear, stroking it gently. He presses a small kiss there and noses the space beneath.

"You still feel safe with me, right?" he whispers.

At his words you immediately turn in his embrace, a look of shock forming on your face, "Of course I do," you breathe, "Joel, I've never felt safer with anyone than I do with you."

"Okay, okay, just checkin'," he smiles at you, eyes soft and sleepy, "You just seem... somewhere else. And I know why," his smile turns sad again, "And I hate that you're feelin' this way, darlin'. What can I do?"

You shake your head and reach your hand up to palm the side of his face, thumb stroking his cheek tenderly, "You... you can tell me where it is you're taking me this weekend." It's a cop-out and you both know it, but as usual he doesn't push it - you'll talk about your feelings in your own time.

He turns his head and kisses the palm of your hand gently, "Dallas," he murmurs, "Hotel room's booked."

Your eyebrows shoot up, "Dallas? But that's hours away, isn't it?"

"About three or so," he shrugs, "You ever been?"

"Couple times when I was a kid. Why Dallas?"

His arms tighten around you and he leans forward to lightly brush his nose against yours, "I told you, I wanna take you away. Not just twenty minutes or an hour; I want you to forget about all the shit you're dealin' with here for a little while," he kisses the tip of your nose gently, "What better place to do that than another city?"

The thought makes you smile. He's right; getting as far away from your parents as possible definitely sounds like a more than appealing opportunity. You've been to Dallas before but not since you were a kid, experiences that have pretty much clouded over at this point, what with all the restrictive rules you'd had to face.

"I feel bad..." you suddenly whisper.

His expression falters, "Why, baby?"

"'Cause what if I don't wanna leave the hotel room?" You smile slyly and his grin comes back in full force as he pulls you closer, presses loud kisses along the side of your face as you giggle.

"Who said anything about leavin' the hotel room?" he chuckles, then reaches over you to grab his phone from the night stand, "Plus..." he scrolls through it for a few seconds then turns it to face you, "There may be a more specific reason I chose Dallas."

You peer at his phone, see the image of a poster staring back at you: DALLAS GOSPEL MUSIC FESTIVAL. The dates correlate to this upcoming weekend. Your jaw drops, eyes going wide as you turn back to his suddenly cocky expression - he's beyond proud of himself.

"Joel Miller," you gasp with a grin, slapping his arm playfully, "you're worse than me."

"So the whole thing just sounds really cool," you lie to your mother the following day, showing her the poster for the festival you'd printed out, "They're also doing group worship in the mornings and there's some other events happening between the shows, like bible trivia." Kill me now.

She raises an eyebrow, assessing it further, "It's an awfully long drive to Dallas on your own..."

"I like driving, it's peaceful."

"And aren't festivals known to have drugs?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, "It's gospel, Mom. I don't think anyone'll be handing out drugs. Plus," you point to the little anti-drug symbol in the corner of the poster, "it's not allowed, see?"

She still looks skeptical, bringing her gaze from the poster to your face, "But you've never wanted to go to something like this before. Why now?"

"I'm just-" you smile as earnestly as you can, "I'm really enjoying my lessons with Mr. Miller. I'd like to go see some professionals perform, get inspired, that kinda thing. I think it'll help me with my technique." Technique, sure. Not as if you've played his guitar more than once at this point.

She grimaces, "It seems an awfully big thing to keep from your father..."

And whose fault is that? "You could tell him I'm visiting another one of my friends?"

She nods slowly, thoughtfully, turning her head to look down at the poster again.

You hate this. You hate how much you're lying. You hate how much she's lying. But more than anything, you hate that you have to lie in the first place. You hate that you have to ask permission, as if you're not a grown adult woman with her own agency. None of this sneaking around and coming up with covers and excuses would even be necessary if your parents just allowed you to be yourself under their roof. The whole thing is so fucked.

"Promise you'll let me know when you get there, and text me every morning and night," she finally says, eyes meeting yours again, "And promise that you'll drive safely."

Relief floods through you, along with that all too familiar guilt, "I promise."

The rest of the week passes smoothly, albeit a little slow. Your mother gives your father some kind of excuse about this weekend that seems to appease him, something about a bible study group. You try not to think about how many stories you're weaving together at this point, all of them piling on top of each other and twisting and turning into even bigger and badder lies. It's truly becoming a giant mess, but all of that doesn't seem to matter whenever you think of Joel, of this weekend...

Communication with him is so different now - in the best way. No more short and brief responses, no more wondering what he's thinking or worrying he's no longer interested. You text every single day and talk on the phone in hushed whispers almost every night. You've noticed that he's able to call you earlier now, has stopped going to the bar after work with his crew, but you don't mention it to him. He hasn't been back since last weekend, something that makes you admittedly feel a bit of relief.

You text him on Wednesday afternoon from the parking lot of the grocery store - you've been helping your parents out a bit more now wherever you can, spending your days cleaning the house, doing chores, fulfilling to-do lists, etc. It's the least you can do for essentially stringing them along through the worst web of lies imaginable. This trip, however, you'd caught a glimpse of Bethany in the baking aisle and almost had a heart attack, rushing to the self checkout and scanning all your items before she'd gotten a chance to see you. You haven't spoken to her since the incident in the church bathroom and you don't intend to ever again if you can help it.

almost ran into bethany at the grocery store ahhh!!!! i hate this so much. just wanna leave already and forget about all these people :( miss you. hope your day's going better than mine 💕

You sigh to yourself as you pull out of the parking lot, but your sad demeanor is quickly replaced with a grin when you feel your phone vibrate in your lap. At a red light you look down at it, warmth flooding your cheeks.

Soon, angel. Two more days and it'll just be you and me. Can't wait to treat you the way you deserve. I know just the thing to make your day better, call me tonight x

That night he whispers filthy things in your ear while you finger yourself, face buried in your pillow, thumb rubbing furiously against your clit. Your face is hot and your lower half is bare against the sheets, sticky and soft. You're imagining how his cock will feel inside you, buried to the hilt, pulsing deep and wet and warm. The thought is almost too much to bear - you've been physically incapable of thinking of anything else lately.

"Wanna feel it in my stomach, Joel, just like you said," you whine into the pillow, tears stinging your eyes as your pleasure nears its peak. "Please, please."

"You will, babygirl," he gasps, voice low and shaky as he tugs at his cock and groans on the other line, "God you're such a good girl beggin' for it like that. Ask me again, honey, ask for my cock."

"Please, Joel," you try to keep your voice quiet but it's so hard, your fingers plunging in and out of yourself at the exact speed you wish he was fucking you, "Please, Mr. Miller. Please give me your cock."

He lets out another groan, "Oh god, baby, I'm so fuckin' close. Ask me for my cum, angel. Ask for it real pretty and polite."

His words send you over the edge as your hand stutters against your pussy and halts, your whole body trembling as you fall face forward onto the bed. Your skin ignites with even more heat as you shut your eyes tight and whisper, "Please gimme your cum, Joel. Want your cum."

You hear him inhale sharply and then exhale even louder, can almost see the white of his cum behind your lids, dripping all over his bare stomach. You can feel your own slick dripping down your inner thigh, staining your sheets. You wonder if your mom has noticed how often you've been changing your bedding lately, but part of you can't really bring yourself to care.

You try to imagine what it would be like for him to pump you full, for his release to leak out of you, what it would look like, feel like... The thought makes goosebumps rise all over your flesh, especially when you remember that he'd already asked if that's what you wanted. In the heat of the moment you'd said yes, and even now you find that you still do. You have been taking your little pill every day at the same time after all, a fact he's very much aware of.

You turn over in bed and snap a quick picture of your bare pussy, wet and used. It's the second time you've done it this week. You send it without saying anything and smile when you hear him groan again on the other line.

"Perfect little pussy," he whispers, and you can hear the pout in his expression.

"It's yours," you murmur sleepily, feeling yourself begin to drift as you bury your face in your pillow again, "It's all yours, Joel."

The only issue that inevitably pops up is the driving arrangement. To your parents knowledge you're traveling to Dallas alone, so leaving in your own car is a vital detail. You want to ride in Joel's truck though, but you're not sure it's feasible with the amount of eyes on you, the questions your parents will ask if your car stays in the driveway.

"That's easy to figure out, darlin'," Joel reassures you over the phone the next morning, "Lemme make a call to my brother, I'm pretty sure he's got a spot in a garage he ain't usin' right now."

You grimace at the thought of someone you don't know doing you a favor, "He won't mind?"

Joel snorts, "Tommy? Not at all, angel. Don't you worry."

You've only heard him talk about Tommy once, that day on his back deck when he'd told you about his upbringing. You'd been under the impression that they didn't have a very good relationship, what with being compared to each other their whole lives. Maybe you'd been wrong about it. You've certainly been wrong about a lot of things. You file it away as another question to ask once you finally work up the courage.

You have to admit, it feels really good to have someone take care of things like this, telling you not to worry, handling everything that's difficult. You've been carrying such a load of bullshit for your entire life and knowing that Joel's in charge this weekend just makes you feel safe. Protected. Cared for. You feel like you could ask him for anything and he'd somehow make it happen for you, something you've never really experienced before. Your parents have always been hesitant to spoil you despite their wealth, had rarely ever taken you on vacations that weren't undercut with the promise of learning or preaching. Your desires and needs have always taken a backseat to appearances, standards, bigger goals. You've never really felt you could ever relax with them, ask for things, be yourself.

It feels so fucking good to have Joel Miller.

Your parents have already left for the day when you climb into your car on Friday morning, tossing your travel bag in the backseat and switching on the ignition with a smile on your face. You and Joel have it all figured out - he'd talked to his brother and there's indeed a space for you to park your car in for the weekend. Joel surprised you even more by taking the day off, so you're meeting him at the garage in about an hour's time. Before then, though... you think another shopping trip is in order - for one specific item in particular.

The lingerie store doesn't seem as scary this time around. Last time you hadn't even been able to step foot inside, but this time you're more prepared, ready for the skimpy mannequins and uniquely shaped underwear. You're still not really exactly sure what you're looking for, but you don't panic this time when a salesclerk walks over to you with a smile and asks if she can help you. She's probably around your mom's age, something you're not sure makes you uncomfortable or not.

"Um, yeah," you say awkwardly, unable to make direct eye contact, "I was wondering if you have anything...um... like..." you try to find the words, heart beating a bit quicker in your chest, "Something cute? But sexy too, but, um, not too sexy, if that makes sense," you feel your cheeks warm as you babble, thinking of the spiked bras and crotchless panties you'd seen last time, "Just something not too crazy, something pretty but still... still sexy." God, how many times did you just say the word sexy?

The woman just smiles and nods without any ounce of judgement whatsoever, "I know just the thing, sweetie, follow me." Well, despite being around the same age, your mother would certainly never call you sweetie. She'd also never go lingerie shopping with you either; the very thought is laughable.

She leads you to a section full of floral themed sets, brightly colored and soft, lacy and delicate. Your eyes widen a bit at the selection, the options in shapes and sizes, colors and transparency, boy shorts and g strings. You have to admit that you could see yourself wearing pretty much anything here - it's right up your alley, and you're pretty sure it's Joel's preference as well.

"As you can see, we have a big range," the salesclerk says with another smile, "Some of them are more simple than others if that's what you're looking for," she picks up one of the sets, blue and frilly with little forget-me-nots embroidered over the nipples, "This one is very popular, and comfortable too, speaking from experience."

You nod, analyzing it carefully and trying your best not to picture the salesclerk wearing it, "Thanks, but I'll, uh, just have a look myself, if that's okay?"

"Of course!" she puts the set back down and tosses you one last smile, "Take your time, sweetie. Let me know if you need anything."

Being around your parents so much this summer has really messed with your psyche. You find it odd to encounter people like this, people your parents age, Joel's age, who clearly have no qualms about dressing sexually. It's almost the way you'd felt when you first got to college, the culture shock of taking ownership of your own body and doing what you want with it, not constantly wondering if you're going to go to hell for showing too much skin. It reminds you yet again of your own naivety, everything you've been missing up to this point.

But also... everything you're going to experience this weekend. That is why you're here, after all.

You end up picking out what you believe to be the prettiest set. It's white and transparent in certain places, edged in pink and covered in little embroidered flowers, purple and yellow and green. The bra has buttons in the center that you're not sure actually work or are just for show... though regardless, you imagine Joel slowly fingering them while you peer up from below on the hotel bed, a thought that makes your cheeks burn. The panties are cute and look easy to slip on and off but there's an odd third component, just as pretty with straps that lead to nothing. You furrow your brow, staring at it.

You could ask the salesclerk what it is but you really don't want to embarrass yourself. Instead you take a picture and send it in your group chat:

buying lingerie, what is this?? help!!

Of course, Tasha is the first to reply:

IT'S A GARTER BELT, BABE. HOLDS UP STOCKINGS IN A FUN SEXY WAY. SO BUY STOCKINGS. also that's cute as fuuuuck. ur gonna give the old man a heart attack

You stifle a laugh and shove your phone back in your pocket, picking up the entire set and walking to the cash. You grab a pair of sheer white stockings in your size and slip everything onto the counter, still avoiding eye contact as the salesclerk from before walks behind and starts ringing everything up.

"Find everything you were looking for, sweetie? Did you want to try any of this on before you purchase?"

You shake your head immediately, "No, that's okay." The thought of trying any of this stuff on in a public place is definitely still a little too much outside your comfort zone.

The clerk nods and turns the card reader to you with a smile, "That'll be a hundred and fifty eight dollars."

You're pretty sure you've never looked more shocked in your life.

why is being sexy so awkward and expensive?

welcome to my life sister

158 DOLLARS FOR 3 SCRAPS OF MATERIAL

that's it, let it all out

The garage Joel gave you the address for isn't too far from the mall, hidden down a few side streets where you feel confident your parents will never accidentally come across it. With a significantly emptier wallet, you pull into the parking lot and spot Joel's truck, smiling when you see him get out to wave you over. He's wearing one of your favorite flannels - green and black, similar to the one you keep under your mattress - and another band t-shirt underneath; you've lost track of how many he has at this point.

"There's my girl," he says as you pull up beside him with the window rolled down. He leans against your car, tips his head in to kiss you gently, "Find it okay? Directions were clear?"

You can't help but roll your eyes with a giggle, "I just typed it into the Maps app, Joel. Didn't need all the rights and lefts."

He chuckles, "Follow me, I'll show you where to park it."

You inch along behind him as he leads you into the relatively small parking garage and gestures to the right. There's an open spot between an RV trailer and a pick-up truck.

"Those are both Tommy's," he says with a sly smile, "So feel free to scratch 'em up if you want."

You roll your eyes again and carefully pull into the space, being sure to avoid any of the encouraged scratching. It's a comfortable fit and you grab your things from the backseat before climbing out to meet Joel behind your car.

"Hi," you say quietly, peering up at him with a soft smile, not caring that you already had your introduction a few minutes ago. All you can think about now is the time that stretches out in front of you, an entire weekend of just you and him.

"Hi, angel," he murmurs, and you feel his hands come up to squeeze your arms, pull you in close, "Ready to get outta here?" You nod excitedly and he gestures toward the garage entrance, "Then let's hit the road."

Three hours on the road passes much quicker than you thought it would. You remember road trips with your parents as a kid, traveling miles in random directions to witness supposed "miracles" or visit religious sites. Before he'd joined the police force your father had been a pretty prominent presence in church groups all throughout the southern states, and by proxy you and your mother had too. You can't really remember much of the experience other than having to constantly be on your best behavior, put on a perfect front no matter what. It was exhausting. Not to mention the only music you could listen to had to be pre-approved by your parents. You'd sit in the back seat with perfect posture, mouthing along to songs about God while you stared longingly at the kids in cars passing by, screaming songs that were forbidden to you at the top of their lungs.

You tell Joel about it. The first twenty minutes or so of the drive is spent unloading your past road trip experiences, something you genuinely hadn't planned on doing. But talking to him is just so easy. The words fall from your lips without any hesitance whatsoever, no fear that he'll ask why you put up with it, why you didn't stand up for yourself, those questions you'd been asked by people at college whenever you mentioned your upbringing. He listens attentively, reaches over and picks up your hand to place it on his thigh, squeezes it reassuringly.

"I'm just rambling now," you finally say with a shake of your head, "The point is, this is my first road trip without all those rules, you know? So it's just... I'm just really excited."

"I get it, honey. And I'm glad I can give you this experience," he turns to look at you with a crooked smile, "Among others." Your cheeks warm.

As usual, he commands the space he's in. He's so big and broad in the front seat, one large hand on the wheel while the other caresses your fingers, thumbs your palm. His forearms are thick and freckled, lined with veins and little nicks and cuts here and there from work. The grey in his scruff reflects light in the sun, sending little twinkles and glimmers into your periphery every so often. He's so perfect, sitting there beside you. So handsome. Yours.

"Which band is that?" you ask him, genuinely curious as your eyes trail down to his t-shirt. You can't help but assume that it's some kind of metal band, what with all the skulls.

"This?" he tugs at it, eyes falling to where you're looking, "Grateful Dead."

"Oh, cool."

He smiles sympathetically, "You have no idea who they are, do you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

He laughs and squeezes your hand again, then lets go to reach into the center console for his phone. You watch him unlock it and pull his face back to squint at it, eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and the road while he tries to access something.

"I can do it," you offer, and without any qualms he slips his phone into your hand with a smile.

"I- uh- I made a playlist," he says, turning his attention to the road again, "For the trip. There's some Grateful Dead on there, if you wanna hear it. You can add your own stuff to it too, don't want you thinkin' you can only listen to my shit."

You don't know why the concept of Joel making a playlist specifically for your trip is so fucking adorable, but it is. You can't help but smile as you open Spotify and spot it immediately - simply called Dallas. You scroll through it and pick the first Grateful Dead song you spot.

"Wait," you say, scrunching your eyebrows as soft guitar fills the truck, gentle and smooth, "This is Grateful Dead?"

He chuckles, "What were you expectin'?"

"Somebody screaming, maybe? Especially for a song called Friend of The Devil," you turn to him with a shake of your head, "God, you're telling me this is the kinda shit my parents forbid me from listening to? It's literally just some guy."

He laughs again, deep and genuine, "Half the shit parents forbid their kids from listenin' to ain't even that bad. I remember a couple years before my momma died, she told me she'd heard this new singer called Bruce Springsteen, absolutely loved him," he grins at the memory, "Meanwhile she'd thrown out all my Springsteen records when I was sixteen, said they were filth."

"Did you remind her?"

He shakes his head, "Nah, I let her believe he really was some new singer she'd discovered. Wouldn't have done any good to rub it in her face. We'd already made peace."

You think about that concept - peace. The very thought of ever having a peaceful relationship with your own parents feels foreign and downright impossible, a feeling that makes you ridiculously sad if you think about it too long. You don't want to entertain the idea of having to say goodbye to them completely at any point, for them to be out of your life entirely because they don't want you anymore. You're glad Joel was able to make peace with his mother, but after years? After his father had passed away? The thought is frightening.

"Now, Backstreet Boys," Joel continues with a wry smile, "that's a band you gotta watch out for. I had to stare at those faces every time I went in Sarah's room for years. Talk about trauma."

The discomfort fades almost immediately, a natural giggle bubbling past your lips at his words. You like hearing him mention his daughter so casually - you're finally in the loop, finally getting to see the real him, hear his unfiltered thoughts.

"Can I... can I ask you something about Sarah?"

His expression changes then, not into one of anger or guilt, but surprise. He nods immediately, reaches back over to take your hand in his, "Of course you can, angel. Anythin' you want."

"Um, how old is she?" You've already done the math in your head, but you want to be sure, want to hear it from him.

"She's thirty eight," he gives you a look, "Does that make you feel weird?"

You shake your head, "No, it doesn't." You mean it. You'd probably find it weirder if she was closer to your age, but thirty eight... a full grown woman, out of the house and living her own life for years. There's something different about that, something that doesn't bring you any discomfort.

"I just wanna say... I've... I've never been with anyone your age," he looks away again, like he's worried about seeing your face as he says it, "You're the youngest person I've been with, save for when I was that age myself." He grimaces, "I don't... I don't go around preyin' on young girls or anything, if you were worried about that. I know the first day we met might've made you think otherwise, but-"

You smile softly as he babbles, "I believe you, Joel. I mean... I can't say the thought didn't cross my mind. I was a bit worried about that this weekend, when I saw you and Sarah. I thought she was my age."

He laughs a little breathlessly, shaking his head, "Oh, she'd be very pleased to hear that, lemme tell you." He makes a face. "The thinkin' she's your age part, not the part about you thinkin' we were together. She probably wouldn't like that so much."

You giggle, "Yeah, probably not."

"But I do mean it, honey. I'm not that kinda man, or at least I never thought I was," he bites his lip, "You kinda turned my whole world upside down that day, if I'm bein' honest."

You don't really know what to say in response, but you feel pride swell in your chest at his words. You reach your other hand over and place it on top of where you're already entwined, peering up at him fondly, hoping he can sense what you're feeling. The song switches over to something else then, another guitar heavy tune. You recognize the melody immediately, your eyes going wide.

"Speaking of the first day we met," you say softly, hoping he'll recognize the significance - and he does. He peers at you with that beautifully tender expression he reserves only for you, grip tightening beneath your other hand.

"Tangled Up in Blue, Bob Dylan."

"I knew it was Bob Dylan."

"Good ear. You play?"

"Um, not really."

The memory sends tingles down your spine. How was that only a few weeks ago? How have you gone from being the shy and bashful girl at the end of Joel Miller's walkway to the girl sitting in his truck holding his hand on a three hour road trip to another city? Talking about your life, his life, the things that matter? The girl with lingerie and birth control packed neatly in your travel bag?

"I'm still plannin' on teachin' you how to play this," he finally says, smirking, "Don't think you can get off easy just 'cause we're focusin' on the hymns."

You roll your eyes with a grin, "When you actually teach me a hymn, we'll talk."

It doesn't take long to realize that driving with Joel is very distracting. Not only is he so large and broad in the seat beside you, looking gorgeous and charming as he always does, but he also smells fucking delicious. Being in such close proximity to him in a small space, being able to smell his cologne mixed with the sheer scent of him, raw and masculine and sexy. It just reminds you of how it feels to be underneath him, overwhelmed by him entirely, feeling the rough edges of his body against yours.

You've had the windows rolled up since the first hour, turned on the AC once you'd gotten on the highway and let the cool air fill the truck. But now it's just circulating that fucking smell, thick and heady as you watch little droplets of sweat form on Joel's forehead, trickle down his temples. You feel a throb in your panties, a surge of release, and you clench your thighs together.

"You okay, babygirl?" he asks you softly, reaching over to place his big hand on your bare thigh - of course he'd noticed your change in demeanor immediately, "Need to stop somewhere and use the bathroom?"

His hand on your thigh just makes you clench tighter, makes you lean back lazily in your seat and let out a quiet whimper. You turn and look at him the exact moment his gaze reaches your face, reads it, tries to make sense of what you need.

"What is it?" he murmurs, hand slowly rubbing your skin, "What's got you makin' sounds like that, huh?"

You whimper again, already fully decided on what you want. Your hand goes down to grip his, move it upwards to the crotch of your shorts. His jaw slackens, eyes going dark.

"Need your pussy touched, baby?"

You nod, feeling heat flood your cheeks at his words. You watch as he assesses the road in front of him, the lane beside him. He chews the inside of his cheek and seems to settle on something internally. He keeps his eyes trained ahead while his hand fiddles with the zipper on your shorts.

"Unbutton those for me, pretty girl," he says, voice suddenly low, and you don't need telling twice. You practically tear your shorts open and allow him to reach his hand inside - it's so big and warm, hairy knuckles and callused fingertips slipping past the band of your underwear. Another pitiful sound falls from your lips as his index drops to your entrance and immediately slips inside.

"Joel," you whisper, tilting your head back and closing your eyes as he pushes knuckle deep inside you, filling you quickly and easily.

He doesn't say anything, just prods a second finger against your hole and slowly pushes it alongside the first. You take him so easy now; it doesn't burn the way it did those first few times, and it certainly helps that you're also soaking wet, practically dripping through your shorts.

"That's it," he murmurs softly beside you, other hand still on the wheel while he monitors the traffic around him, "That feel better, baby?"

"Y-yes," you breathe, looking down again to watch the lewd actions happening in your lap, watch the way his hand moves back and forth in your shorts as he pulls his fingers in and out of you.

"Just close your eyes and relax, angel," he tells you gently, "I'll take care of it."

You do as he says, letting yourself relax as best you can while he continues to slowly fuck you with his fingers. Another song starts playing, something low with a steady beat that he suddenly sets the pace to, speeding up as you open your legs a bit wider and moan softly. His thumb finds your clit and circles it, making you whine.

"Shhh, it's okay," your hear him say beside you, working his fingers, "It's alright, babygirl. Gonna give you what you need."

You moan again at the images that flood your brain, the thought of being underneath him in only a couple hours time, the feeling of his cock pushing inside, filling you up in just the way you've been aching for. You imagine his heavy breaths, hot and sticky against your skin. The smell of his cologne, his sweat. The coarseness of his pubic hair against your bare pussy. You writhe in the seat and tighten your thighs together, another whine slipping from your mouth.

"I got you," he murmurs, and he does. It doesn't take much else at all for you to climax, and he gets you there quickly with a few more circles of his thumb, the stiffness of his fingers, his name slipping past your lips as you come.

You lay loose and pliant in your seat for a moment, eyes still closed. He goes to remove his hand from your shorts but you stop him, reaching down to hold his wrist and keep his warm hand inside. He cups your pussy gently and just holds it, the palm of his hand sitting firmly atop your throbbing hole, rhythmically pulsing against his skin.

"Just keep it there," you whisper, chest heaving, "Please."

"Christ," he grunts under his breath, and you open your eyes to look at him, see the flush of his skin as he looks at you with desire in his eyes, "You were right, babygirl. I don't think we'll be leavin' that hotel room."

You like Joel's playlist a lot. After stopping into a gas station to clean up a bit, you sit in the passenger seat while he loads up on gas and scroll through it on your own phone, liking certain tracks that have stood out to you. His musical range is very broad; there's a lot of artists on it that you've never heard of, but you're not sure if that's just because of how sheltered you've been or because he's so much older than you. You choose to believe it's the latter - you hate thinking about how much you've missed out on. He'd said you could add some of your own songs but the thought makes you feel embarrassed; you haven't really had much time to form your own music taste, have spent your college experience so far just listening to whatever's popular since you couldn't when you were younger. You wouldn't even know what to add.

You scroll back up to the top of the playlist and tap Joel's profile out of curiosity, wondering if he has any other public playlists. You smile to yourself when you see titles like BBQ, 80s Tunes, Good Solos, Acoustic, Oldies, Angel.

Hold on...

Angel

You stare at it for a moment, thumb hovering over the icon but making no move to actually press it. You suddenly feel like you're invading his privacy somehow, like this isn't something he'd want you to see, not unless he said you could. With all the strength you can muster you hit the back button and return to the Dallas playlist, tapping a random song and locking your phone.

Joel gets back in the truck, oblivious to your discovery. "Gettin' closer, darlin'. You excited?"

You smile, warmth bursting in your chest, "Can't wait."

The conversation drifts here and there throughout the rest of the drive, both of you asking and answering questions back and forth about your lives, your pasts, your interests, your dislikes. You learn that Joel really likes music. You've known this, of course - it's not like it's some huge surprise - but hearing him talk about the artists he likes, the instruments, the melodies, the lyrics... you can hear the passion in his voice, the adoration for his favorites, the infatuation with certain lines and words. He loves music.

"Why aren't you a musician?" you ask him, genuinely curious, "Like, this really seems like something you should be doing professionally."

He chuckles at that, shakes his head, "Knowin' a lot about somethin' doesn't necessarily constitute a career in it," he shrugs, "I mean... I can't say I never thought about it. To be honest, when I was a teenager I did dream about performin' live, recordin' an album, all that jazz."

"So... why didn't you?"

He tilts his head with a half smile, "I think you're forgettin' the part where I became a dad right outta high school."

You wince, "Oh. Right."

He laughs, "S'okay. I mean, I still probably coulda done it. But there was a period there in those early years where I stopped playin' altogether, so it kinda just... slipped my mind."

You frown, "What happened? If you don't mind me asking."

He takes a breath, thoughtful for a moment as he tightens his grip on the wheel and squeezes your hand at the same time, like he's preparing himself - or preparing you.

"Well, uh... Sarah's mom, she left." Your lips part in surprise but you don't say anything, giving him a few seconds to collect his thoughts again before continuing, "She, uh, she had really bad post-partum depression, lasted a really long time. Of course, at the time, that kinda thing wasn't really talked about very much. And on top o' that we were both living with her parents since I'd been kicked out and we couldn't afford to go anywhere else. Even when we finally managed to move out they stayed in our business."

"And her parents... were they...?"

"They were strict, yeah," his jaw tenses, "They were... they were very hard on her, which made it worse. And she never wanted to be a mom, ya know? She was only seventeen when it happened and it completely uprooted all her plans. She'd wanted to get outta Texas, go to California or New York, get away from her parents and all the bullshit." He sighs, shaking his head slightly at the memory, "But livin' where we did, abortion was outta the question and her parents were our only option."

He's not looking at you but you can see the pain in his expression, the regret. A wave of sadness washes over you as you watch him talk about this particularly difficult part of his past, a part you'd been curious about ever since last weekend but had been too afraid to ask about. You're not really sure what to say.

"They made us get married," he makes a face, "And I mean, it's not like we weren't in love at that point, 'cause we were. She was my high school sweetheart and I loved her so much, I wanted it to work. But she was so unhappy. So distant. And when Sarah was born it was like she was gone. The Mish I knew just completely disappeared." He finally looks at you, expression apologetic, "That's her name - Mish. Well, Michelle, but she hates Michelle. God," he sighs exasperatedly, "I'm sorry, darlin', I shouldn't be ramblin' on about this."

You shake your head quickly, pulling your hand from his grip to lay it on top of his and squeeze, a comforting gesture, "No, Joel, don't apologize. Tell me. I wanna know."

He peers at you, hesitant, "You're sure?"

"Yes. I... I wanna know you, if you'll let me." You squeeze his hand again, reassuring him quietly.

So he tells you. He tells you about getting his first real job in construction, working the latest hours possible to earn as much as he could to get the three of them out of Mish's parents house and into their own. He tells you about Sarah being born, how he'd never felt as happy in his entire life as he did when he first held her in his arms, how she was a light in the darkness for him, lit up the room with her killer smile and big brown eyes. He tells you how he'd woken up one morning to a note from Mish, telling him that she couldn't do it anymore, that she had to get out before the situation swallowed her whole. He tells you about how his little brother Tommy, the one you'd thought he disliked, the golden boy, started skipping school to take care of Sarah when Joel couldn't - not because Joel asked him, but because he'd wanted to help.

"They say it takes a village," he says with a soft smile, "But for me, I had my brother and that was enough. It was like the past however many years of that godforsaken rivalry our parents pushed on us hadn't even happened."

"This coming from the person who asked me to scratch his truck an hour ago," you tease, and he just laughs, peering over at you with a genuine smile and tears shining in his eyes. There he is, the real him.

"Mish, she uh-" he clears his throat, "She came back, when Sarah was a little older, but then she disappeared again, same story. We found out later that she was dealin' with a whole lot more than post partum. I won't go into the details but once she got on the right meds, started therapy, she came back to us. Took a little while for things to settle - we tried on our relationship again, but we realized we just didn't fit, it was never gonna work." You squeeze his hand again. "She stayed in our lives though, became a good mom to Sarah, that's what mattered most."

"And you were just... you were just alone, through all of that?" you ask quietly, "I mean, I know you had Tommy, but... that must've been so hard." You can't even imagine dealing with all of that, find it difficult to comprehend the fact that Joel had become a father when he was younger than you, had to drop all his dreams and desires and start living entirely for someone else. "Didn't your parents ever try to reach out at all? Didn't they want to know Sarah?"

He sighs, eyes on the road, "My momma did, I know she did. But my father wouldn't let her, and she did as he said, no questions asked."

You can't help but picture your own parents, the way your mother bends over backwards to police herself around your father, the way she's taught you your entire life to do the same. The way she can't even talk to him about what's really going on - or at least what she thinks is going on - for fear of him winding up in control of the situation, making the decisions for her.

"I wonder if my mom would still wanna see me if she knew what I've been doing," you say aloud, unable to keep the thought to yourself. "Or if my dad would force her to shut me out."

Once again your hands swap places, Joel wrapping his fingers around your palm and gripping it tightly. But he doesn't say anything, doesn't give you any words of reassurance, and you know it's because he can't.

A soft kiss to your right cheek, then your left. Whiskered and warm. Your eyes flutter open and you see Joel leaning over the center console with a tender smile on his face, brown eyes peering down at you fondly.

"We're here, baby," he murmurs.

You blink a few times, confused. Only moments ago you'd been listening to music, chatting about your degree and answering Joel's questions about your other life, the one where your parents aren't in charge. He'd been so attentive, so interested in learning more about you. You vaguely remember a song coming on, slow and melodic, and then...

"I fell asleep?" you ask blearily, sitting up a bit.

"Out like a light," he says with a smile, "Had to skip all my heavy metal."

You roll your eyes and peer out the window, confused by the darkness beyond.

"We're in the parking garage at the hotel," he clarifies quickly, leaning back into his own seat, "Ready to check in?"

You nod and yawn, opening the passenger side door and stepping out to stretch your arms above your head. It feels good to be out of the small confines of Joel's truck, even though it was nice while it lasted. He follows suit and walks around the side to grab the luggage from the back.

"You brought your guitar?" you ask, watching as he picks up the long black carrying case and slips it over his shoulder.

"That I did," he replies with a wink, "Gotta get that lesson in, right?"

You feel heat bloom in your cheeks and avoid his flirtatious gaze, moving toward the truck bed to grab your bag. He gets to it first, picks up both his bag and yours and carries them easily in both hands, walking over to meet you on the other side of the truck.

"I can take mine," you offer, "That's a lot to carry."

He just chuckles and shakes his head, walking in front of you, "You ain't liftin' one single finger on this trip, sweetheart."

Walking from the darkness of the parking garage to the suddenly blaringly bright sun of Dallas is disconcerting at first, but certainly not unwelcome. Your eyes squint against the sunlight, focus on Joel's broad back as he walks in front of you with all the bags, guitar case swinging from his shoulder. God, he looks good carrying all that, big hands gripping the handles of the bags as he saunters ahead. That's yours, you remind yourself yet again, he's yours.

You're so distracted by how good he looks that you barely really take notice of the hotel until you're pushing past the doors into the main lobby, and that's when you freeze in place with your jaw practically on the floor.

What the fuck?

When Joel told you he'd booked a hotel, the only thing you'd really pictured in your mind was the room itself. You'd imagined a pretty sizeable room with a big bed, an ensuite bathroom and maybe a balcony if you were lucky. You've never really spent much time in a hotel before, especially nothing fancy or expensive. When you'd traveled with your parents you usually stayed with family friends or other parishioners; they hadn't wanted to expose you to too much luxury or wealth. It's hypocritical now when you think back on it, considering the large house your parents live in, the pool, the cars, the boat your father wants to buy. They'd had money to throw away on those things but couldn't splurge on a hotel room every once in a while? Couldn't treat you to something you really wanted?

Now you stand in an absolutely gorgeous main lobby, all marble floors and bright greenery, glints of gold and crystal and diamonds everywhere you turn. You suddenly feel like you've walked into a European country - how the fuck did you drive three hours from Austin and end up in a place like this?

Joel is stalling a few feet in front of you, that cocky smile in full view as he watches your reaction, "Ain't too shabby, huh?"

You're still staring with wide eyes at the sleek floors, the glittering fountains, the fucking bell-hops wearing those silly little outfits. You turn back to Joel with a shake of your head, mouth open.

You barely register the checking-in process, too mesmerized by your surroundings to pay attention. A bell-hop loads up your bags onto a luggage cart, the clerk hands Joel a key card, and you're still in complete awe of what you've just walked into as you follow Joel almost robotically to the elevator without speaking.

This is too much, you want to say.

How much did you spend? you want to ask.

The room itself is fucking beautiful, overlooking the hustle and bustle of the city below, a sight you already know will look gorgeous when the sun goes down and the buildings are lit up. The bed is huge, much bigger than you'd anticipated, with a giant flatscreen TV on the wall overtop a confusingly high-tech looking fireplace. There's a comfy looking couch and an ensuite to your right, and a fucking balcony, just like you'd hoped for. You stand in complete silence in the doorway for a solid minute until the bell-hop is gone and Joel has to nudge you forward a little to shut the door.

"Say somethin'," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you from behind and nuzzling his face in your neck.

You shake your head again, eyes still wide, "I- I don't even know what to say."

"D'you like it?" his voice is muffled in the warmth of your neck, lips pressing a soft kiss there as his arms squeeze you gently, "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

You swallow around the lump in your throat, close your eyes through freshly stinging tears and lean back into his embrace. "I'm thinking that.... that I can't believe you did all this for me."

He kisses your neck again, slow and sweet, "Of course I did, angel. S'what you deserve."

You open your eyes and look down to see his big arms holding you tightly, feel the firm warmth of him at your back, smell that heady and delicious scent of his cologne. This isn't some dream you're having, some weird and sinful idea you came up with in your head; this is real. You're really here, standing in a beautiful hotel room with the most beautiful man you could ever imagine. You feel so safe.

And now you have an entire weekend to show him how much that means to you, a thought that sends a chill up your spine when your gaze rises back up to the bed. There it is. That's where it's going to happen.

"So... what's the plan?" you ask quietly.

He chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your ear before pulling back and spinning you around in his embrace, peering down at you with a soft expression. "Anythin' you want," he says with a smile, "You're in charge."

You can't help but feel yourself pout a bit, "What if I don't wanna be in charge?"

He leans down and brushes his nose against yours softly, "Well, then I'd say..." he's cut off by a sudden gurgling sound, and your eyes widen when you realize it's your stomach - you haven't eaten since this morning. He laughs lightly, pulling back to assess you fondly, "I'd say we better head down to the dining room and get some food in you."

You grimace, even though you know he's right. "Spoke too soon."

While you enjoyed the thrill of the hotel surprise, part of you wishes Joel had told you what kind of place this was so you could have packed accordingly. You definitely didn't pack anything super elegant or fancy, although you had packed all the dresses you'd bought a little while ago, the ones you'd tried on in his kitchen and haven't had an opportunity to wear since. You assess your options now, bag open on the couch, fingers trailing through the different fabrics. The little pink bag with your new lingerie still sits tucked into the side, and you wonder if you should wear it underneath whatever you choose to wear for dinner. As usual, you're not really sure how this kind of thing is supposed to work.

You settle on the pink one; you know from past experience that Joel's certainly a fan of that color on you. You take it into the bathroom along with the lingerie while he rummages through his own clothes, oblivious.

"Okay," you whisper to yourself as you stand in front of the mirror and tug off your t-shirt, then shorts. You stare at yourself in your underwear and bra for a few seconds, then carefully peel them from your body and reach inside the little pink bag. You'd already cut the tags off - no going back now.

The set fits perfectly, hugging your soft curves and the swells of your breasts, shaping your tummy and accentuating your thighs. You look good, as much as you feel odd admitting that to yourself. It's still been hard to look in the mirror lately and see what Joel sees, to not feel guilty for simply having a body. It gives you a similar feeling to how you'd felt in your bikini, though the lingerie leaves a lot less to the imagination with its transparent material and plunging panty line.

You tug on the dress and then the sheer white stockings, loving the way they stop at your thighs just under the dress and show off a small sliver of bare skin beneath the hem. You decide to leave the garter belt in the bathroom until later, tucking it into one of the cupboards underneath some towels. You peer at yourself in the mirror again, assessing yourself up and down and hoping Joel will like what he sees.

He does.

The second you come out of the bathroom you see him pause, looking up from where he's buttoning up a nice black dress shirt to gaze at you hungrily. His lips part, eyes going hooded as he walks over to you and firmly palms your lower back, pulls you close and trails his other hand up the side of your body.

"Christ," he breathes, almost a growl, "You're so fuckin' pretty."

Without any other words one of his hands suddenly reaches up your dress, grips tight to one of your thighs. You gasp, eyes widening as he thumbs the bare skin just beneath your panties, pulling back to peer down at you with a lustful expression.

"God, I could fuck you right now," he mutters, and the words send a squeak past your lips, a gush of wetness into your brand new panties, "Yeah, you want me to bend you over and fill you up? 'Cause you look positively sinful right now."

You whimper, tempted immediately by his words, at the thought of being bent over the edge of the bed and taken right there without any preparation. But you know that's not how you want this to go; if it was, you'd have already been fucked by him ages ago. And you know that he knows it too, that he wants the same things you want - to take it slow, to take your time, feel everything the way you want to feel it.

It doesn't mean you can't tease him, though. "Would you actually?" you ask softly, voice shaking a little bit in anticipation.

"God, yes, I would," he murmurs, "Just say the word and I will."

You bite your lip, almost genuinely considering it for a moment before your stomach suddenly growls again and you sigh exasperatedly.

He smiles, leans down to press his lips to your ear, "We have all weekend, remember?"

You shiver at the thought.

Dinner is beyond lovely, delicious dishes served on sparkling silver platters in a grand dining room, bottomless champagne which you surprise yourself by indulging in - about a glass and a half - and a live band performing some soft jazzy numbers on a stage nearby. It's so romantic, so dazzling and classy and like nothing you've ever experienced before. Your eyes flicker back and forth between everything periodically, like you can't really believe you're sitting here - but you are.

It feels so nice to sit in a public place with Joel, be surrounded by people who have no idea who you are and no concept of the secret nature of your relationship. It's just normal, easy, no need to be guarded or quiet or pretend you're something you're not. He smiles at you from across the table and you smile back easily without any pretenses, without that nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to be on your best behavior. You can just be yourself.

He's so handsome, dressed mostly in black with his greying curls gelled back a bit, deep chocolate eyes almost never leaving yours. He looks at you like you're the only person in the room, the only one he can see while you trade more stories about your lives, your favorite things, your dreams. You tell him you'd like to write a book one day, not exactly sure what about yet but how you're not sure you'd even have the confidence to actually publish it - he tells you with warmth and tenderness that he'd read anything you wrote, be the first one to buy a copy. He tells you how he's written songs but never played them to anybody before, but he'd play them for you if you wanted to hear them - you do.

Despite the pretty music, the twinkling lights, the cozy atmosphere and yummy food... you can't wait to get back to the hotel room. Your skin is buzzing with anticipation of what comes next, what you both know will happen as soon as you're back behind closed doors. The thought has been sitting there in the back of your mind all day, all week - for crying out loud, it's been there since the day you met him. It's nice to sit and eat and chat and pretend for a little bit like you didn't come on this vacation for a very specific reason, but that reason is becoming glaringly more apparent the longer you sit across from each other, stealing glances and soft touches. You need him. You need him right now.

Your eyes must go glassy, a faraway look in your expression, because a few moments after finishing your food Joel extends his arm to you and squeezes your hand, peers at you with darkening eyes.

"I know, babygirl," he murmurs, calloused fingertips caressing your skin, "Let's go."

As soon as the door shuts behind the both of you Joel's arms are immediately around you again, just like they'd been when you first stepped into the room after check-in. This time though, he presses his body firmly to yours, pushes his groin against your ass and reaches up to pull your hair back behind your ear, other hand flat against your stomach.

"I want you so bad," he whispers, and your whole body seems to convulse in his grasp in anticipation, "Been thinkin' about it all day."

"Me too," you whisper back, like it's a secret. "I'm ready, Joel."

He noses your ear, your neck, your shoulder. You feel him pull back the sleeve of your dress and press an open mouthed kiss to the skin there, slow and wet.

"I'm gonna take care of you," he murmurs softly, "I promise."

You lean back into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to press kisses all over your exposed skin, the rough prickles of his facial hair feeling sinful against your flesh. He grinds himself into you again and you whine.

"You're gonna feel it right here," he reminds you, rubbing your tummy gently and inhaling your perfume, "Right there, babygirl."

You whimper, legs buckling underneath you, "I want it, Joel, Want it now, please." Your thoughts are clouded by the smell of him, the feel of him, and it's only when you feel him start to unzip your dress in the back that you remember what you're wearing underneath.

"Wait," you say quickly, pulling away and turning around to face him, "Wait, just - just gimme one minute," he looks confused and you smile apologetically, "I have a surprise for you first." You reach forward and take his hands in yours, pull him toward the bed and gently nudge him onto the edge, "Just wait there, okay? I'll be right back."

You start backing up to go to the ensuite and can't help but appreciate the way he looks sitting there for a moment, leaning back on his hands while he gazes at you from the bed under his lashes. His legs are so long, belt buckle shining tantalizingly under the overhead light. You watch as he kicks his shoes off, smiling up at you.

"Don't go anywhere," you tell him, still backing up, "Stay right there."

He grins, "Ain't nowhere I'd rather be than right here, baby."

Your skin heats as you turn the doorknob and head into the bathroom, locking it behind you. You try not to think too much about what's about to happen, what you're going to do together the second you open that door again - the thought is so beyond overwhelming that you can already feel goosebumps rising all over your body.

The dress comes off easily and you place it with slightly trembling fingers onto the counter, reaching down to open up the cupboard and grab the garter you'd stowed away. You don't look at yourself in the mirror until it's securely in place, stockings hooked into it symmetrically albeit a little precariously, and when you finally do see yourself - bright eyed and warm, hair a little tousled, anticipation clear as day on your face - you can't help but grin.

You're about to lose your virginity. To Joel.

You take a few steadying breaths in the mirror, closing your eyes and giving yourself a moment to just quietly exist. You press your palms to the counter, inhaling and exhaling slowly, grounding yourself and working up the courage to go back into the room.

And then you hear it - a low buzzing sound, rattling against the solid tile of the bathroom countertop. You open your eyes in slight confusion, looking toward the sound; it's your phone, tucked against the wall, hidden behind the hand towel. Your brow furrows - has it been in here this whole time? You can't remember checking it at dinner, don't think you'd even unlocked it since before Joel woke you up from your nap in the truck.

You reach over and grab it, wondering who could be calling you - and that's when your heart plummets to your stomach.

6 messages. 4 missed calls. All from your mother.

Fuck.

Are you in Dallas yet?

Let me know when you arrive.

What hotel are you staying at?

Text me back now.

Where are you?

Answer the phone.

"Shit," you whisper, "Shit, shit, shit." You scramble to type out a response, erasing typos and re-typing over and over until you wind up with something that you hope makes sense:

sorry!!! i was so tired from the drive and passed out as soon as i got in my room. i'm still half asleep, i'll talk to you more tomorrow.

How the fuck could you forget to text her?! It was the one thing you'd promised her, the one thing you weren't lying about before you left, and it had still managed to completely slip your mind. You stare at the sent message, watching a whole minute go by until her typing bubble appears, slow and steady. Finally, her reply comes in:

I told your father about Mr. Miller. We'll discuss when you get home.

Well, that's definitely not the response you'd been expecting.

Your face scrunches in confusion as you read the message again; you're not sure how it correlates at all to your lack of communication, the breaking of your promise. You suppose she'd been so worried she'd had no choice but to tell your father the "real" reason you're in Dallas - the music festival, and by proxy the lessons with Joel that "inspired" the trip in the first place. That would make sense. It's not like she has any way of knowing that you're actually here with Joel, right? No, that's illogical. You've been careful.

Okay, you know what? Good. This is good. You've wanted him to know all along. One less secret to keep, right? It's a good thing.

So why does your heart suddenly feel like it's on the floor?

You read the message again, and then again.

It's fine. Don't worry about it, it's okay.

You look up from the phone and into the mirror, eyebrows going up when you see yourself. For a moment you'd forgotten where you were, what exactly you're doing in the bathroom of a hotel room in Dallas wearing nothing but lingerie. The stark contrast of the freedom you'd felt a few moments ago and the sudden anxiety you feel now is palpable, eyes going a bit blurry as you assess yourself in the mirror again. You suddenly feel slightly disconnected from the image itself, like the person you're looking at isn't you - it can't be you, can it? Is that you?

Water, you need water. You cup your hand in the sink and turn on the tap, collecting a small pool of liquid there before bringing it to your lips. The action reminds you that you'll need to take your birth control later, a thought that sends another pang of anxiety to your already discombobulated body. Why do you need to take birth control again? Oh yeah, because you're about five minutes away from losing your virginity. To Joel. Your ears begin to ring.

Your hands shake above the sink, water dripping downwards off your hands into the much too fancy basin below. What are you doing here? Who do you think you are? You really think this is okay? You really think everything you're doing, everything you've been doing, isn't going to have major consequences? Your vision blurs.

You shut off the water and shove your trembling hands into a dry towel, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. You avoid looking at yourself in the mirror, avoid acknowledging the way you look all together. What the fuck is wrong with you? Who are you? What have you become? Lying to your parents, resisting everything they ever taught you, doing filthy things behind their back?

The sins you've acted upon are against God, you can practically hear your father spitting at you, the behavior you've exhibited will surely leave you with nothing but a one way ticket to Hell.

Your heart pounds in your chest, much faster than normal, much faster than you think it's ever beat. So fast that you briefly think you might be having a heart attack. You clutch at your chest and fall to the floor, attempting to catch your breath and utterly failing to do so, eyes wide and panicked as you practically fight for your life on the marble tile. What the fuck is happening? Not even five minutes ago you'd been totally fine, completely ready and willing and excited, and now you want nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

"J-Joel?" you gasp out, voice echoing against the walls; it's like you're calling out for emergency assistance, a last-ditch attempt at survival. He doesn't answer - you hadn't been loud enough. You take another gasping breath and call out a bit louder, "Joel?"

You hear his voice almost immediately on the other side of the door, "I'm here, baby. You okay?"

You shut your eyes tight, head leaning back against the wall as you pull your legs up to hug against your chest. How the fuck do you even answer a question like that? No, I'm not okay. I'm completely the opposite of okay.

"I c-can't breathe," you practically spit the words out, teeth beginning to chatter.

"Hey, hey, what's goin' on? Can I come in?"

You don't answer, can't answer. The knob jiggles and you silently curse yourself for locking it, "What is it, baby? What's wrong? Talk to me." You can hear the worry in his voice.

"I don't kn-know" you hiccup, hands coming up to cover your face, "I just... I just g-got really sc-scared all of a sudden."

"Oh sweetheart, that's okay." His voice is calm, soothing, reassuring. "That's alright, honey. It's okay to be scared, that's normal. That's okay."

"N-no it's not," you gasp out, hands still shaking, "I'm- I'm going to hell."

There's a beat of silence, then -

"I think you're havin' a panic attack, babygirl," you hate how muffled his voice is through the door, like he's ridiculously far away, "That's okay, I have those too. I have those all the time."

Your eyebrows go up in surprise, "Y-you do?"

"I do. And I can help you if you let me in, alright? We can get through it together, I promise."

"Y-you won't be m-mad at me?"

"Babygirl," he breathes, the tone of his voice doused in shock, "I'd never be mad at you for somethin' like that. Not now, not ever." Another knob jiggle, "Open up, sweetheart, lemme hold you."

The thought of being in his arms is the only thing that gets you off the floor, legs shaking like a baby deer as you lean against the wall for support and sidestep over to the bathroom door. With relentlessly shaky fingers you manage to unlock it, tugging it open just a little bit. He does the rest.

You barely get a look at his expression - full of concern and tenderness - before you're suddenly being scooped up into his big, warm arms. He lifts you off the floor like you weigh nothing while you bury your face in his shoulder, close your eyes and try your best to focus on the sound of his breathing, the smell of him, the way he feels. Your legs instinctively wrap around him almost like a koala as he carries you over to the couch, sits down while you cling to him in the safety of his lap.

He doesn't mention the fact that you're practically naked, doesn't ask about the lingerie or point out the little wet spot at the front of your panties where only a few minutes ago you'd started getting wet with anticipation. Instead he simply does exactly what he'd said - he holds you. He pulls you in close and rubs your back and squeezes you tightly while you try to calm your breathing, try to disconnect yourself from the panicked feelings.

"You're okay, angel" he whispers to you softly, and you just cling to him tighter, "You're safe, you're alright. Nothin' bad is gonna happen to you, honey."

Except going to hell, you want to say, but you find that your fear is already starting to ebb, being replaced with the feeling of Joel's wide palm against your back and his soothing words in your ear.

"We have all the time in the world to take this step," he murmurs softly, "I don't want you to feel any pressure, don't want you to think you have to do anything you don't wanna do."

You remember his words from the other day: Need you to know that you don't owe me anythin', not ever. But the frustrating thing is that this isn't something you feel you owe him, it's something you want to do - or at least had wanted to do, before you picked up the stupid fucking phone.

"I'm r-ruining everything," you manage to gasp out, tears still flowing relentlessly down your face, "I'm s-sorry."

"You're not ruinin' anything," he breathes, and you can hear the sincerity in the tone of his voice, "That is not the only reason we came here, sweet girl. We came here to be together, get away from everythin'." You feel him press a gentle kiss to your temple, "Now, tell me what's goin' on. What's got you so scared, baby? Talk to me."

You sniff, face still buried in the warm fabric of his shirt as you tell him about the messages, the response from your mom about telling your father, the way your heart had sunk when you fully registered what it would mean for them to really know what's going on. You realize you're getting tears and snot all over him but he doesn't seem to pay it any mind, continuing to rub your back soothingly.

"It's fine that he knows, or thinks he knows - whatever," you sniffle, "But the whole thing is just- it's just so fucked. If they knew what I was d-doing here, if they knew what I was wearing-"

"Shhh," he trails his fingers through your hair as you babble and you bury your face into his shoulder again, feeling beyond embarrassed. This is not how you'd seen this night going at all. "Shh, sweetheart, it's okay. Hey, look at me. Look at me, sweet girl."

Hesitantly, you pull your face from his shirt to peer at him from under watery lashes, his handsome face blurry through your tears. He reaches down and takes both your hands in his, squeezes them carefully.

"Follow my breathing, okay?" he tells you softly, voice barely a whisper. You watch as he closes his eyes and slowly inhales through his nose. You count about five seconds before he exhales through his mouth again, opening his eyes, "In and out, real slow like this."

It takes a few minutes to get into a good rhythm, to feel the breathing exercise really start to work, but eventually you start feeling calmer again, more yourself. As you breathe Joel continues to hold your hands in his, keeping you present, grounded. You open your eyes a few times, almost like you're making sure he's still there despite knowing you're in his lap, and each time you see his beautiful face - eyes closed over with his lashes fanning his cheeks, plump lips under greying scruff, the lines and wrinkles you want to kiss every single one of - you feel a wave of reassurance wash over you, a reminder that you're safe, you're not alone.

Once your heart has stopped beating a mile a minute, you wrap your arms around him again and nudge your head lazily into the crook of his shoulder, eyes closed as you hum softly in appreciation. He starts rubbing your back again, soft and slow.

"I don't believe in it anymore," you finally whisper quietly, "I don't. I haven't for a long time. But it's hard to remember that sometimes. It can just... it creeps up on me."

"I know," he murmurs, "I dealt with that for a while too, babygirl. It's a lot to reconcile, a lot to put in the past, I get it."

"I get scared when I think about them finding out about us," you admit softly, "Not because it'll change what we have, but because it'll change what I have with them." You bite your lip "You... you know that better than anybody."

He suddenly grimaces at your words, eyes going up to the ceiling for a few seconds before falling back to you, "I knew it," he grumbles, and your brows furrow in confusion, "I knew I shouldn't've talked about that shit with my parents today."

You shake your head immediately, "No, no, Joel, it has nothing to do with that. I wanted to know that stuff, I wanna know you."

"But it -"

"This is my own thing," you tell him softly, gaze meeting his, "This isn't because of you. You've been..." you smile through your tears, "You've been so amazing, Joel. You've helped me so much."

He brushes his nose against yours again, and with a soft sigh he murmurs, "You've helped me too, sweetheart. More than you realize."

"What d'you mean?"

You watch as he reaches beneath him to pull something out from his back pocket, adjusting you a little in his lap as he does so. He pulls out his wallet, small and brown, weathered around the edges - he's definitely had it for a while. Puzzled, your eyes fall to the tattered inside as he opens it, and you immediately spot something sitting in the compartment reserved for cash - something that catches the light, sparkles under your gaze.

"Is that my crucifix?" you ask quietly.

He nods, slipping his finger inside and pulling out the chain, the cross hanging from his fingertip. "This," he tells you, "has gotten me through two panic attacks of my own this week."

What?

He can tell you're at a bit of a loss for words, confused and surprised. With a small smile he wraps his hand around the crucifix, presses the cross into his palm, then brings it to his lips and presses a small kiss to the metal. The action doesn't make much sense to you, what with Joel being an Atheist and having never shown much interest at all in religion other than how it made you feel.

"But you don't believe in that stuff," you state, suddenly unsure.

He nods, letting his hand fall back down into his lap to touch yours, "I don't," he murmurs, "It's... it's a symbol more than anything." He takes your hand, the cross fitting directly into the center of your palm, "When I hold this, it reminds me of the beautiful girl who trusted me with it, the one sittin' so pretty and perfect in my lap right now."

You can't help but feel a bit embarrassed at his words, painfully aware of the tears drying on your puffy cheeks - you probably look a mess, but he doesn't seem to care.

"Makes me feel less alone," he tells you softly, and you swear you hear his voice hitch on the last word, "Keeps me safe."

You peer at him for a moment, processing his words. You don't really know what to say, beyond touched by the sentiment but still unsure how an object that caused you such pain and frustration could be a light in the darkness for him. How could it have a different meaning than the one it was intended for?

It's like he can sense your hesitance, your questions. He shifts you a bit in his lap, pulling you so close that his nose brushes gently against yours. "You should only believe in somethin' if it feels right," he whispers, "Only if it makes you feel like the luckiest person alive just to experience it, to be in its presence. And angel," he sighs softly, tilting forward so his forehead lightly nudges against yours, "if that ain't me about you."

"Joel," you whisper, fresh tears shining in your eyes. There's nothing else you can really say, nothing that feels right, other than the one thing you've been wanting to say since you arrived, something on the tip of your tongue begging to slip past your lips - but you don't. For now, you just think it, think it with all the warmth and adoration you feel blooming in your chest as you peer at him.

I love you.

You kiss him then, slow. His lips are soft and patient against yours, slightly hesitant, like he's holding himself back - and you suppose he is, considering the situation. He doesn't want to push, doesn't want to assume that what was meant to happen when you got back to the hotel room is still going to happen.

But you already know that it is.

You find that you can now notice the fact that your skin is bare, that he's touching you without anything being in the way, one hand cupped against the soft flesh of your hip while the other still squeezes your hand. It dawns on you that you're wearing the lingerie, the special surprise essentially ruined by your outburst. You frown against his lips.

"What is it?" he murmurs, pulling back to peer at your face, assess your expression.

"I...I bought this for you," you tell him softly, and you watch as his gaze falls to your scantily covered form, "Sorry I ruined the surprise."

His adam's apple bobs in his throat as his eyes trail up and down your body in slow, repetitive movements, like he's only just now fully noticed what you're wearing, taking in absolutely every inch of you - every little embroidered flower, every bare patch of skin. He releases your hand to carefully place both of his palms down on your thighs, the naked part between your panties and the stockings. You watch as he fingers the garter straps, eyes dark.

"Dressed up all pretty for me, huh?" he breathes, thumbs stroking your inner thighs as he brings his gaze back up to meet yours.

"I wanted it to be special," you whisper, "I wanted to wear it when you..." You trail off, mouth going a bit dry all of a sudden.

"Do you still want that, babygirl?" he asks you softly, "Do you still want me to?"

You don't even need to think about it, mull it over in your head or take another breath. You've never been more sure of anything in your life.

"Yes," you whisper, an edge of desperation in your voice, "Please." You kiss him again and he sighs deeply against your mouth, grip tightening on your thighs.

"Say it," he murmurs, teeth nipping lightly at your bottom lip, "Tell me what you want me to do, baby."

You shiver, "Want you to fuck me, Joel," your voice quakes with anticipation, hands balling in his shirt, "Please fuck me."

He doesn't need telling twice; at your words one of his big hands comes up cradle your back again, fingers digging into the soft skin there while his other slips from your thigh and curves around your ass, squeezes. He picks you up again, slips the crucifix into his pocket and stands there without moving as he peers at your face and holds you firmly against his body.

"Please," you whisper again, eyes locked with his as you whimper and buck your hips against him, feel the shape of his half-hard cock rub gently against where you're aching. He looks down without speaking, watches as you pathetically grind your hips, legs tightening around his waist.

"The sweetest girl," he says softly, leaning his face forward to kiss the corner of your mouth, "Already beggin' for my cock, huh?"

You mewl and grind your crotch against him again, already feeling the wetness returning to your panties in slow pulses. He just smiles and finally walks with you to the bed, tilts you downward and lays you out like you're a meal he's about to indulge in, swallow whole. And god, you want him to. Need him to. He pulls back to stand over you, hands going into his pockets as he peers down at you with lust in his eyes.

"Lemme just look at you, babygirl," he says quietly, eyes trailing to your breasts, your bare stomach, your exposed mound and soft thighs. He nudges you over a little bit and then sits on the side of the bed, hand reaching down to stroke one of your arms, slow and gentle, "You look so beautiful."

You lie there, staring up at his face with hooded eyes as you try not to squirm under his gaze. His hand moves from your arm to your shoulder, your shoulder to your collarbone, your collarbone to the space between your breasts. Just like you'd imagined when you'd bought it at the store, he deftly fingers the buttons there a few times, tracing them up and down.

"Pretty," he murmurs, and without warning he slowly slips his hand inside your bra, fingertips brushing your nipple. You whimper again, another surge of arousal dripping into your underwear.

"My sensitive girl," he whispers, brushing it again and smiling when your hips buck, "Are you wet, baby?"

You nod quickly, expression hazy, "Yes."

"How wet?"

Your thighs rub together almost unconsciously, another pathetic sound slipping past your lips, "Really wet, Joel."

He chuckles softly at your impatience, releases your breast and leans down to press a slow and wet kiss to your neck. You moan softly, eyes fluttering closed as his lips trail gently up and down the expanse of your neck, your chest. You feel his hands curve up underneath your back, busying themselves with the latches of your lingerie.

"As much as I could look at you wearin' this for hours," he whispers, "I think theres somethin' under there that deserves my attention." He slips the bra off easily, tugs the straps down your arms and exposes your bare breasts to him, nipples peaked and hard. He immediately captures one in his mouth and starts to suckle gently, hand traveling downward to rest teasingly on your inner thigh.

Fuck, it feels so good. Your eyes roll behind your lids, mouth popping open as you sigh in contentment and just let him play with you. He sucks and licks, nips lightly every so often, travels between both breasts like they were made specifically for him to have in his mouth. Your pussy pulses somewhere below, feeling beyond ignored, and you rub your thighs together again to try to ease some of the pressure. He notices and his hand inches upward to cup you through the material, eliciting a gasp from you.

He pulls off your nipple and you open your eyes to see him peering up at you, eyes almost black, a smirk on his face, "Need your pussy touched again, don't you baby?" You nod, lips turning downwards into a pout, "Okay, sweet girl. I won't tease you too much."

You're very much aware of the fact that Joel is still fully clothed, a fact that you have to admit turns you on a lot more than it probably should. You watch as he crawls on top of you carefully, hooks his legs around you and slowly eases downward, eyes staying locked with yours as he starts kissing his way down your stomach. Your heart rate quickens again, but this time you welcome it.

His fingers play with the straps of your garter as he presses soft kisses to the tops of your thighs, the dips of your waist. You shiver when he presses gentle kisses to your mound, fingers slipping inside the band of your lingerie and carefully tugging it down to expose your pussy to him, wet and aching. He pulls back to look at it, expression one of pure lust as he thumbs one of your lips and pushes it open.

"There she is," he murmurs, "The sweetest little pussy."

"Joel," you moan, closing your eyes and focusing entirely on the way he thumbs your outer lip, caresses it softly like it's something precious and fragile. He dips his thumb further inside and brushes against your folds, sending another thick and syrupy drop of release onto his fingers.

"Look at her pulse, baby," he says, voice husky and dark, "Droolin' for me."

You open your eyes again, watch him lean down and lick a stripe through your dripping folds, collecting the juices on his tongue. You whimper when he swallows and leans in to press a whiskery kiss to your clit, already puffy and twitching.

"She's cryin' for my cock, honey," he breathes, "Been waitin' so long, been so patient."

"Please," you whisper, and his gaze meets yours again, "Please put it in." The words are filthy and full of desperation, your brow furrowing in pleasure as his thumb slowly begins to circle your clit, "I need it."

"I know, sweet girl," he whispers, "But you gotta wait just a little bit longer, gotta let me taste this perfect little cunt first," he presses kisses along your folds, kitten licks past them a bit to slip the tip of his tongue just barely inside your hole. You whine, hand coming down to touch his hair while the other grabs one of your breasts and begins to toy with your nipple, as if on instinct.

He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, hands coming up to grip your waist and hold you still as he starts to eat you out. Just like the first time, it's beyond overwhelming, your eyes shutting tight and your teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip as his mouth does sinful things to the most intimate part of you. He plunges his tongue inside and buries the curve of his nose in your clit, rubbing it up and down, back and forth, while you whine and whimper above him. Your fingers tangle in his hair and holds his face firm between your legs while he tastes and devours.

"Joel," you keep whimpering, unable to stop from saying his name every chance you get, a reminder to yourself that you're really here with him right now, that he's the one making you feel this way. He barely pulls up for breath, scruff glistening with your release as he pleasures you relentlessly, arm coming up to splay across your belly and push you down into the mattress, holding you firm.

He makes you come easily, but that's no surprise. Just like in the truck earlier, you cry out and toss your head back, body shaking through your orgasm as he sucks on your clit and slips one of his fingers easily inside of you, curves it and makes your body rise up off the bed in pleasure as you shiver and squirm.

"Good girl," he tells you softly when he releases your clit from his mouth, looks up at you with dark lips and messy hair, "That's my good girl."

Only for you Joel, you want to whisper, but you're too blissed out to speak, Only wanna be a good girl for you.

You feel him press soothing kisses around your pussy, finger still slowly pumping in and out as you calm your breathing. He pulls it out and brings it to his lips, sucks it with a deep groan, "God, you taste so good," he murmurs, resting his head for a moment on your thigh and inhaling deeply, "So fuckin' sweet, babygirl."

You remember the first time he'd tasted you, remember how you'd come so hard you'd seen stars, remember how he'd come in his pants. The thought makes you sit up on your hands, look down at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Did you come?" you ask, slightly worried for a moment.

He laughs, pulls his head up and begins to crawl back to you with a smile on his face, "No, not this time. That was a moment of weakness." He cups your face and and looks down at you with a soft expression, "You wanna taste yourself?"

Without any hesitation, you nod. Joel leans down and presses his lips to yours, eases his tongue inside and lets you indulge in your own release, your own special flavor. You've never really tasted anything like it before, unsure how exactly to describe it - you're not sure you'd really call it sweet, but it's not bad by any means, just... different.

"Good?" he asks.

You shrug, "It's... interesting."

He chuckles, pulling his face back, "How're you feelin'? You wanna stop?" You look up at him like he's crazy and he laughs again, putting his hands up, "Okay, okay, just askin'."

"I want-" you cut yourself off, feeling blood rush to your cheeks, and he peers down at you softly.

"What d'you want, babygirl?" he murmurs, "I'll give it to you."

You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, finger the buttons there, "I want this off," you breathe, "Want all of it off."

He nods slowly, eyes hooded as his eyes fall to your wet lips, "Okay, what else?"

"Want you to fuck me," you whisper again, as if he doesn't already know. Your hand reaches downward to carefully cup the long shape of him through his pants with trembling fingers, "Want it inside."

He reaches down, covers your hand with his and squeezes softly, "You want what inside, baby? Words."

"Your cock," you whisper, edged with a whine, "Want your cock inside me, Joel. Please. No more teasing."

He smiles softly, "Okay, baby. No more teasin'."

Watching him undress sends tingles all throughout your body, lips parting as he undoes the buttons of his shirt and tosses it to the floor, reaches for his belt buckle and slowly starts to unfurl it. He keeps his eyes on your face, watches your expression as you bite your lip and assess the way his cock juts out underneath his pants, begging to be taken out and touched, played with. The thought makes you sit up on the bed, lean toward the edge and dig a few of your fingers into his waistband, pulling him closer.

He watches as you slowly move forward to mouth his cock through his pants, lips parting and stretching around the big shape. You sigh in contentment at the feeling of it pulsing through the material against your tongue, drag your mouth up and down a few times as a whimper gurgles in your throat.

"Thought you said no more teasin'," he murmurs, and you feel his hand come to rest at the back of your head, helping you move. You moan softly around his length and you can practically hear the smile in his voice when he says, "Just need it so bad, don't you?"

You do. You can't count the number of days you've thought about it now, thought about it against your face, your thighs, your pussy. You want it everywhere - you want him everywhere. You've waited so long and you're tired of being patient, of waiting for the right time, the right moment. It's here, it's now, and you're ready.

"Please," you breathe again, pulling your mouth off his clothed cock and looking up at him with wide, almost tear-filled eyes, "Please fuck me, Mr. Miller."

His eyes go dark and the smile fades from his lips, hands coming down to unzip and unbutton quickly as you lay back on the bed and open your legs. It takes no time at all for him to be completely naked, pants and underwear thrown haphazardly off to the side while he crawls back on top of you and starts kissing your neck again, skin rough and warm. Your hands come up to grip his bare back, eyes closing as you let him silently worship you, kiss every inch of skin he can reach.

You can feel the heavy length of him on your thigh, settled there as it pulses and leaks. It's so big, so thick, and you can't help but reach down and engulf it in your small fist, fingers still unable to go all the way around. He groans into your skin, pulls back to look at you again.

"D'you want me to use a condom, babygirl?" he asks, even though he knows the answer - he wants to hear you say it, which you appreciate.

"No," you whisper, "Please don't."

He groans again at your words, reaches his hand down and easily slips two of his fingers inside of you without any resistance. You're so ready, have never felt more ready for anything in your entire life. You know you should be reveling in the moment, taking time to enjoy and appreciate - but at the same time you just want him inside of you already, want to be connected to him in the rawest of ways, complete. You can't wait anymore, you can't. He starts to add his third finger and you whine, wishing it was something else.

"Gotta open you up a little more, sweetheart," he tells you quietly, filling you with all three fingers and slowly starting to pump them in and out, "Want this to feel good for you, don't wanna hurt you."

"I want your cock, Joel," you mewl, tears welling in your eyes.

"Shhh," he kisses you gently, fucks you slow, "I know, baby, I know. Just a minute now, sweetheart. Be patient for me."

"Don't wanna be patient," you're starting to sound like a bit of a brat but you really don't care, the desperate and touch-starved part of you just aching to be filled up, held close, fucked deep. "Wanna feel you in my stomach, please."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, almost a groan as he pulls his fingers from you and drags them against his cock, taking it from you carefully and then pumping himself twice with your release, "Okay, babygirl, I hear you, I got you."

Joel eases himself downwards carefully, hovering over you like he had last weekend. He kisses you again, soft and safe, a quiet reminder that what's about to happen means more than what it seems like on paper, means more than either of you could even articulate. He peers into your eyes tenderly, reaches up to push some stray hairs out of your face.

"I'm gonna go real slow," he tells you, "You tell me the second somethin' doesn't feel right, okay? Promise me."

"I promise," you whisper, hands splaying across his back and pulling him down further so your breasts are pushing softly against the hair on his chest, impossibly close. You just wanna feel him, feel all of him.

When he says slow - he means slow.

You'd felt the tip of him last weekend, were already anticipating the burn and stretch, but this time there's not the same desperation, the same time limit or rush. Now you have all the time in the world, the clarity to take it as slowly as you need to in order to really feel everything, make it count. You feel the shape of his wide head carefully nudge the tiniest bit into your throbbing heat, and your eyes immediately go wide.

"You're okay," he reminds you softly, just like he had last time, "You're alright, angel."

Your nails dig into his back and you nod, peering up at him with a look that you hope says, I know, and I trust you, because you do. He kisses you gently and you feel his hand at your thigh, pushing you open a little wider for easier access. The garter strap strains against your legs but neither of you make any move to remove it.

He pushes inside a little further, his whole tip crowding the space at your entrance once again. You make an odd sound, something that comes from the back of your throat, and he freezes.

"Okay?" he asks, and you frantically nod. "That's the tip of me, baby. You got it, you're doin' so good."

"More," you whisper, voice breaking, "More, please."

He reaches his hand back up and locks it into place on the headboard above you, holds himself up as his knees dig into the plush cotton of the duvet. With his other hand he slowly eases more of his cock inside, just a little bit.

"Fuck," you hiss, and you can feel it now - the burn, the stretch. It's not painful by any means, but it's not comfortable either. You make a face and Joel stills, brow furrowing.

"Hurts?" he asks softly.

"N-not really," you breathe, "It's just - it's really thick."

He kisses you again, noses the side of your face and inhales deeply, "You tell me when to move," he murmurs, "You're in control from this point forward, babygirl. What you say goes."

You take a few deep breaths, eyes closed as you hold Joel to you and revel in the way he peppers tiny little kisses all over your face, your nose, your eyelids. Now it's his turn to be patient, and he's certainly much better at it than you are.

"Okay," you breathe after a moment, "Okay, you can move."

He inches in another little bit and your hips stutter, hands trembling against his back. You don't say anything, just grip him tighter and bite down on your lip - more stretch, more burn. But there's something about it, something about the odd sensation of being spread open, that has your pussy suddenly throbbing - and you whine.

"Tell me to pull out and I will," he murmurs in your ear, "We can spend some more time-"

"No," you whimper, shaking your head, "No, Joel. It feels good." You grip tighter to him and tangle your ankles with his, wanting to be even closer than you already are, "Keep going, please."

It goes like that for a while - a continuous push, inch by inch, a whine or whimper, a check-in from Joel, reassurance that you're alright, then the cycle starts again. You quickly grow accustomed to his girth, the stretch getting significantly less and less the longer he stays pressed inside of you. You're painfully aware that this probably isn't the sexiest experience for him, that he'd probably much prefer being able to go deep and stay deep and pound you senseless - and as much as that thought also appeals to you, you know there's no way your body could handle it on the first go.

"M'sorry," you mumble to him quietly during another moment of adjustment, both of you laying still while a little more than half his cock sits patiently inside of you.

"For what?" his eyes scrunch, confusion clear on his face.

"F-for taking forever to get used to it," you admit apologetically, eyes going downcast, "Especially after I begged so many times."

He shakes his head, eyes narrowing, "Do not apologize for somethin' like that, sweetheart. This is about you, not me."

"But I'm-" you take a breath, forcing yourself to be honest, to not keep your worries inside no matter what, especially in such an intimate moment like this, "I'm scared you're not enjoying yourself."

His eyes widen, "Not enjoyin' myself?" He almost laughs, light and soft, "Sweetheart, do you have any idea how fuckin' good you feel?" You shake your head and he leans down to kiss you, moans softly against your lips, "Your pussy's so tight around me, sweet girl" he whispers, "She's pulsin' around my cock, it feels fuckin' incredible."

Your thighs tighten a bit against his waist, center throbbing once again at his words. He groans, and it finally sets in that every throb you feel, every pulsation, every twitch, he can feel it too. Because he's inside of you.

"You're inside me," you whisper, and it sounds like such a dumb revelation but you don't care, lip trembling a little bit as your fingers stroke gently against his back.

"I'm inside you," he echoes, voice soft and reassuring, "M'not goin' anywhere, baby. Gonna take it as slow as you need me to."

He's so gentle, so tender, it makes you want to cry. How did you get so lucky to be having your first time with someone like this? Someone who genuinely wants you to feel good, feel taken care of? Someone who feels beyond amazing? His cock is so big, so perfect; he feeds it to you over the next few minutes, makes you whine and cry out in the dim light of the hotel room, legs trembling and hands coming up to cover your eyes as he finally bottoms out, finally eases himself completely inside of you - and stills.

Full. You're so full. It's the only word that seems to cross your mind, any and all other vocabulary going completely out the window the longer you lay there with his cock buried deep inside. He carefully pulls your hands back from your face and kisses you again and again, murmuring praise.

"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, "Takin' it so well, such a good girl."

It's not that filthy of a thing to say, but his words do something to you then that you can't really explain. Odd sounds escape your throat, slip past your lips pathetically as you squirm a bit beneath him. Your eyes shut tight, heart beating fast, not a thought in your brain other than the fact that there's a huge appendage lodged so deep inside of you that you can't even think, can't speak.

"I know," he's whispering, carding his fingers through your hair, "I know, baby. That cock is so big, I know, I know," he kisses your temple, holds you close, "So big inside that little pussy."

"Joel," is all you manage to whimper out, toes curling in pleasure, "Joel."

"I know," he murmurs again, and you swear he pushes his hips forward just a little bit more, the heavy shape of his balls pressing firmly against your ass, "I'm in your tummy, baby, just like you wanted."

At his words your shaky hand travels downward to feel your stomach, press your palm against the skin there, and your eyes snap open when you realize you can feel him there - near the bottom of your tummy, feel the long and thick shape of him bulging out from beneath.

"Fuck," you breathe, and his eyes meet yours, dark and hungry, "Fuck, I f-feel it."

His hand comes down and covers yours, helps you move the garter belt out of the way to shape your fingers around the long shape of him. You can feel the fat head pulsing deep within you, pushing against something you didn't even know was there, every throb sending constant gushes of release around his cock. You must be a mess down there, slick dripping down your thighs as you whine again and reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair.

"Ohmygod," the words are almost slurred, garbled, and you're realizing very quickly that talking with a cock inside of you is very difficult. Your thighs squeeze together again and Joel groans.

"God, you feel so fuckin' incredible," his expression is wrecked, plump lips parted as he inhales and exhales, "You're chokin' my cock, honey."

You can't wrap your mind around the fact that this isn't it, that simply having his cock buried deep inside you isn't the actual sex itself. Because how can just this feel so good? How can you feel so close, so full, so wonderful, all from just this?

Joel leans down and buries his face in the pillow, nudges his nose to your ear and whispers, "D'you want me to move, babygirl?" to which you immediately respond, "Yes."

At your okay he slowly eases himself out of you, the sensation unlike anything you've ever felt before as inch by inch he leaves your body until just the head sits heavy and waiting at your entrance. He looks down at you, thumbs your cheek, and murmurs, "Who's my good girl?"

You shiver, moan softly, eyes closing again, "I am," you whisper.

Just as slow, he pushes himself back inside, and you cry out and bury your face into his neck, legs shaking.

"Who is?" he asks you again, burying himself to the hilt and stroking up and down your naked body gently with one hand, "Who's my good girl? Tell me again, angel."

"I am," you repeat, a bit louder this time and drenched in pleasure as he slowly pulls out again, leaving you almost empty. "Joel," you whisper, and he pulls his face back to look at you, nipping at your bottom lip and pouting at your already fucked-out expression, "Joel, it feels so good."

"I know, baby," he murmurs, then eases himself back in, brings your hands down to your stomach again to feel the way his cock protrudes lewdly against the skin, "You're takin' it so well."

"I-I've-" you whimper, tears overflowing, "I've n-never-"

I've never felt like this before, you want to say. I've never felt so close to another human in my life. I've never wanted to live in a moment more than I want to live in this one.

Instead, he just brings a finger to your lips, eases himself out again and murmurs, "I know," like it's a mantra, "I know."

You feel him thumb your clit and you can't believe that anything could feel this good, that anything could even compare to the way it feels to have Joel everywhere like this, so deep inside and above and all around, his scent lingering in every move he makes, his hair pressing firm to the softest parts of your body. He's so warm, so safe, and more than anything all you can think about is that thought from before, the one you know now to be absolute - I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

He keeps the pace slow, doesn't let go of you or pull away even once. You already know you're not gonna last, not with his thumb rubbing you like that and his cock so unrelenting and huge inside of you, filling you up in a way you never thought possible. You're pretty sure that you've only got one more orgasm left in you tonight but you don't feel worried or stressed out by that fact - you have a whole weekend for more of this, to explore and experience and enjoy.

"I'm gonna come, Joel," you breathe, and you can feel tears stinging your eyes as you say the words, "I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come."

"Okay, baby, that's it," he encourages you softly, thumb unrelenting against your clit, "Lemme feel you come, angel. Let it out for me. Give it to me, sweetheart." And you do.

Coming around his cock feels fucking incredible. Your pussy tightens and throbs, releases more slick than you could even imagine, and you feel yourself start to cry, tears flowing down your face as a sob wracks from your throat as you pull him down on top of you. He fucks you through it, groaning in your ear at the way you continue to choke his cock, tight and firm.

"Fuck," he groans, "Fuck, angel, I don't think I can last."

"Then don't," you cry into his ear, eyes shut tight as your body convulses, "Don't wait, Joel. Want you to come inside me, want it so bad."

He makes an unhinged noise, his thrusts becoming a little faster, a little more erratic. Without warning you kick your legs up to wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer and letting out another loud moan when you both hear the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. He's so deep. So, so, so deep. Just like he said he'd be.

"Fuck," he mumbles in your ear, "Fuck, I'm comin', honey, I'm comin'." At his words you feel the massive length of him pulse deep inside, your walls constricting around the intrusive shape as he starts to come. Your eyes go wide, mouth opening in a silent gasp of pleasure as you feel the warm spurts of his come begin to coat your walls, filling you up.

"Joel," you breathe, and you're pretty sure your nails have broken the skin of his back but he doesn't seem to care - if anything it makes him groan even louder, makes him pull back to look at you and make direct eye contact as he empties himself. You stare at each other, eyes wide, lips parted, and he leans forward to press his forehead to yours as his jaw clenches.

The moment he's finished coming he falls on top of you with his entire body weight, something you welcome instantly. Your hands roam up and down his back, feel the crescent moon shapes lining his skin as you close your eyes and let the reality of what's just happened wash over you, settle into your very being. It's only when you shift a little underneath him that Joel finally pulls himself up to look at you. He's so beautiful, hair a mess, lips red and raw, cheeks flushed, and tears shining in his soft brown eyes. He nuzzles his nose against yours and breathes a long sigh, one of satisfaction and contentment.

"Stay inside me," you whisper. You don't know why it's the first thing you say, but somehow it feels like the most important. Because the idea of him separating from you now after what you've just shared, the idea of not being within his embrace or feeling as connected as you feel right now - it sounds like the worst thing in the world.

"Okay, angel," he murmurs, eyes sleepy, "M'not goin' anywhere."

You close your eyes, breathe him in.

I love you.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #fic: feelings on fire #*

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covetyou · 1 year ago

Text

the best of the world in the palm of our hands

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

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pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con (reader is paying a debt), pussy spanking, unprotected PIV, fingering, oral (f receiving), cumplay, anal play (blink and you'll miss it), derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap, joel miller is a massive slut word count: 4.9k chapter summary: You find a way to pay your fathers debts

A/N: pussy spanking! lets go! you know the old saying, open mind open legs.

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song: damage gets done by Hozier

Your dad had been rationing his pain meds for months, barely taking one every two days now that the world had gone to shit and they were so much harder to come by - and so much more expensive as a result. Lean times were made leaner still by missed shifts and slow work, which meant for even fewer pills to ration out.

Eventually, you would listen, night after night, as he groaned and writhed in pain, meds long gone. Nights like that meant another missed shift, fewer ration cards, and the ever looming threat of debtors coming to collect on what was theirs.

That was the situation that had brought you here, to his door. Desperation, and a debt needing to be paid.

Your knock on the door sounds sharp in the silence of the hallway. You're in a "nicer" part of the QZ - the apartment block cleaner and less crammed full of bodies than others. Here there are fewer people to care, fewer people to see. Fewer people to hear you scream.

The door in front of you suddenly flies open and you wretch you head around, straightening your back. You'd told yourself you'd play it cool, but already you were failing.

Joel Miller, self appointed pharmacist, medication supplier, drug dealer, stands before you. He's tall and broad, taking up almost the entire doorway as he rests one hand on top of the frame. He ticks one hip to the side and tucks his fingers through his belt loops.

You'd seen him from a distance, people pointing with whispers of "that's him", but never up close. Flecks of gray dance around the scruff on his jaw, his dark brown eyes wrinkling as he assesses you. The firm expanse of him so much more intimidating from this distance, you square yourself before you speak.

"I -" you begin, but he immediately cuts you off.

"I don't do business in the hallway," he drawls. "This is business, right?" he quirks a dark eyebrow at you.

You nod, all words snatched from your brain. You'd never heard him before - his southern drawl sounding cocky as he sizes you up, standing meek and mild in the corridor.

"S'always business. Come in then, sweetheart," he says, barely moving his body from blocking the doorway for you to squeeze past him. You push yourself against the door frame as much as possible so you don't drag your body along his.

The living room of his apartment is bigger than the entire place you share with your father. As far as you can tell, Joel lives here alone.

The door slams shut behind you, and heavy footsteps walk past you. Joel picks up a bottle and a single glass, pouring himself two fingers of whisky before setting the bottle back down and taking a sip. You knew you would be vulnerable, coming here alone, but you hadn't taken into account feeling trapped.

"So, what y'here for?"

"M-my dad, he's -"

"I know who your dad is, sweetheart. Seen you together. He owes me. Ain't heard from him in a few weeks. I asked what you're here for, not about your dad."

"Yeah," you nod, trying to feign confidence, "Yeah well, that's why I'm here. He needs more medicine."

"What I gave him weren't medicine, it ain't fixin' shit. I gave him pain relief. That's it."

"Well, he needs more. He's out, and he's hurting, and he can't work - " you ramble, but he cuts you off again.

"Now, sweetheart," he raises a finger to stop you. "I don't see why I should be giving you, or him, anythin'. I owe you nothin', and from where I'm standing, you're the one who owes me. Two weeks worth, right?"

Your eyes go wide. You were hoping he'd make it easier than this - go easy on you because you were a girl and you were here alone. You were hoping to play on his heartstrings, but you were starting to realise that maybe he didn't have one.

His glass thunks down on the table.

He circles you like a predator circles its prey, looking you up and down, assessing for weakness. You stare straight ahead, unwavering as possible.

He stops in front of you, tall and foreboding, before tilting your chin up with a single finger.

"You got the cards for that?"

You shake your head no.

He clicks his tongue, smiles, and says, "That's a damn shame". You have a feeling he doesn't think that at all.

"Dad's been hurting too much, he can't work, we haven't been able to get the cards, I've been trying I - "

"Looks like you'll have to do then," he shrugs, crossing his arms across his broad chest as he leans back against his dining table. "Show me what you can pay me with."

You'd never done this before - well, that was a bit of a lie. You'd done something like this, once, before, with someone else, someone different, someone who probably couldn't hurt you in the ways the massive figure of Joel Miller could hurt you.

You take two small steps toward him, and move to lower to your knees - you'd heard men like him accepted this mode of "payment" all the time - but he grabs your arm in one giant hand before you can make your descent.

You balk at him, "Wha - "

"I don't want a half-hearted blow job, sweetheart," he licks his lips and his thick fingers tug at the hem of your too big t-shirt. "Why don't you take this off. Show me what you can pay me with."

The implication was clear - he didn't want anything you could give him, but you had plenty he could take. Your breath hitches, but you don't let yourself hesitate for long.

Swallowing thickly, you yank your t-shirt over your head and dump it on the floor beside you in one swift action. You're painfully aware that your bra is the least flattering thing you could possibly be wearing - it's soft and old and entirely shapeless, but you weren't expecting to be stripping off for him. You shouldn't even care what he thinks of you but it'd been so long since anyone had seen your bare skin that even this twisted exchange felt like you should've made more of an effort.

You stare directly ahead, not daring to meet his eyes as heat flares in your cheeks. He stalks back to the table and picks up his whisky. You watch him raise it to his lips before he notices you looking. You haven't moved.

He's on you in an instant, grabbing your face, squeezing your cheeks with force as he directs your eyes to his. The heat still burns through your face, but you feel it start to snake traitorously down your spine.

"I said, show me or do you want me to fuckin' rip the rest off you."

Nodding, you scramble to remove the rest of your clothing. It's not sexy, why fucking would it be, and you fumble with the buttons on your pants longer than you'd like, but eventually you're stood entirely nude for him in his apartment.

A puff of air huffs out if his nose and his face twitches as he appraises you like some kind of show cattle. You don't know if he likes what he sees, but that traitorous drip of warmth down your spine hopes that he does. You can trick yourself into thinking it's because he might go easier on you if he likes you, but the longer you stand there under his gaze the more you don't want him to go easy on you.

"You are a pretty thing," he says, rubbing the scruff of his beard. "I think you got just the thing I need to let your dad off the hook, don't you? Might even throw something else in to sweeten the deal if you're extra good." He strokes your hair, and you try to hold back a shudder of arousal. Maybe he'll think it's fear, and maybe it is. Maybe it's both.

"How's that sound?" he prompts as he laces his fingers through your hair and tugs.

You look at his face, his eyes are dark, darker than before, the way he's looking at you makes that traitorous drip into a flood. "Okay."

He wordlessly grunts as he tugs your hair some more and pushes you toward a door on the otherside of the room, making you walk ahead of him.

Even with his hand in your hair, guiding you, your feet move of their own accord. You want to object, refuse, but you can't. You want this. You want a man like Joel - big, protective, in control - to pay you any attention. Whatever the cost.

One final nudge of your head and you stumble into the room as he releases you.

His bedroom is sparse, as expected. Interior decor went to shit with the end of the world, and Joel didn't seem like the kind of man who would've cared about that before anyway.

You stand at the foot of his bed looking down at your toes as they bunch and un-bunch in the carpet. You hear him come in and close the door. If you weren't trapped before you definitely are now. You don't look up at him, you can't, so your eyes remain fixed at your feet when his step into view.

"You ready to get on the bed for me, sweetheart?" His hand strokes gently across the swell of your breast as he talks to you. It's the first time he's really touched you and the flood down your spine has now gathered into a slick pool between your legs.

You do as you're asked sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling even smaller now as he towers over you. You could have been 8 feet tall and still felt small and vulnerable in this moment, Joel Miller cascading above you fully clothed.

A large hand rests on your shoulder, a gentle pressure pushing you to fall back to the mattress below.

"You lay back now. Relax."

You try not to scoff but you can't help it.

"Ain't goin' to hurt you. What good would that do me. I like my customers alive."

You take a deep breath and try to steady yourself with your back flush to the mattress, looking at him as he still hulks above you. You can do this. He'll just... take what he wants. And you'll let him. Then you'll be on your way.

He's still standing above you as he directs you. "Good girl. Now open your legs for me. Lemme see."

You take another deep breathe, hold, and exhale, opening your legs for him just a fraction.

"I'm a patient man, sweetheart, but when I tell you to do something, you fuckin' do it," he growls as he kicks your legs open further. You spread them even wider, wanting to keep on his good side. You're completely exposed and bare for him now. Everything is on display and he still towers over you, looking down at your naked form on his bed.

"Fuckin' beautiful," you think you hear him mutter as he moves to a crouch between your spread thighs. You hold your breath, tensing and try not to clamp your legs shut at his inspection.

"I'm just lookin', sweetheart," Fingers rub calming circles over the softness of your thighs and your legs twitch.

"Keep your fuckin' legs spread," he says with a sharp slap to your thigh. Gasping at the shock, you push your legs to spread as wide as they can. You feel obscene, so open for him and his hand strokes the spot he'd just struck, soothing it.

You were beginning to see how this would go - do exactly as he said and he'd be gentle. Disobey, or be slow on the uptake (patient man my ass) and you'd soon feel the sting of punishment. The thought of that makes you clench around nothing, and you curse under your breath as it's surely now drawn attention to just how wet you are.

You stare up at his yellowed ceiling and hear a chuckle from between your legs - he definitely fucking knows. You don't dare to look down, you just want him to get on with it, until suddenly fingers come dangerously close to your sex and pull you apart, spreading your bare cunt even more for him.

"Well, you're a pretty little thing," he says to your pussy.

The fingers, his thumbs you realise, massage up and down the sides of you, avoiding any direct touch to your folds, but massaging the flesh in such a delicious way that you can't help but feel it right where you need it most.

Joel hums as he moves to his knees, getting closer to your spread cunt, still rubbing his thumbs up and down the sides of you, gradually moving closer and closer to the center of your sex until he's dragging the tips of both thumbs through your wetness and up to the sides of your clit.

You take another deep breath and try to muffle your whimpers with pursed lips, trying to hold back a moan.

"She's likin' that," you hear the amusement in his voice, "I wonder if she'll like this." He moves one of his slicked thumbs directly above your clit and begins to gently stroke. Your hips jerk, unsure if it's toward or away from the pressure of his thumb.

"Oh, she does," and he applies more pressure, circling torturously around your nub as his other hand continues to explore your folds in gentle strokes, parting your opening with two fingers occasionally to see the wetness gathering there, to see how ready for him you are.

"You ever touch yourself like this?" he's talking to you again now, not your cunt.

"N-no," you stutter, as his thumb keeps its languid pace on your clit.

"You don't touch yourself? Y'look well old enough to have done this before."

"No, I-I do, just... not. Not like this."

Joel hesitates for just a moment, fingers stilling, before continuing on. "You like it though." It's not a question. "Tell me how you touch yourself." That wasn't either.

"I don't - I. Fuck," you hiss. You try to relax your grip on the sheets, but his rough thumb on your clit is distractingly good. "I - rub," you pant out.

"With fingers?"

"No," you squeeze your eyes shut. You can't say you expected much from this visit, but telling a stranger how you get yourself off in the dark of the night definitely was not on your list.

"Againstapillow," you mumble, a soft moan being pulled from shortly after as he increases the frequency of his circles on your clit.

"So you're a sweet girl whose sweet pussy only knows soft things?" he hums in thought. "Anything ever been in here?" his index finger circles around your opening, slick now dribbling out of you and being spread around by his thick finger. You must glisten.

You gulp down a sigh. "I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're getting at."

"That's good," he chuckles. "Can't imagine you'd want your first to be like this. Of course a pretty little slut like you has had somethin' in here before." His finger circles more around your hole, barley dipping inside as his well practiced thumb swipes firmly over your swollen clit.

Two thick fingers suddenly plunge into your dripping cunt with ease, stretching you. You pull back with the shock, trying to shuffle up the bed and away at the sudden intrusion, pulling his fingers from you. His hands grip your thighs, anchoring you down and pulling you back toward him.

"Did I say you could fuckin' move?" You shake your head. You didn't even mean to move. It felt good, it shouldn't feel fucking good, you were just surprised.

slap

You hear it before you feel it - a wide hand colliding bluntly with your exposed cunt, sending a sharp stinging, buzzing sensation straight back up your spine. You think your brain shuts off entirely for a second before you gasp for air.

"I know you wanna be good for me. You wanna do right by your sick old dad, right? Help him out of a tough spot?"

His entire palm engulfs your mound with ease, covering you completely as he massages his fingers side to side, easing the sting and jerking your clit in a way that has you rolling your hips and biting back a moan.

"Try getting away again and I'll give your worse than that," you push your pelvis toward him at his words. You really try not to be obvious in your disappointment, you want to be good, but you want it. You want worse. And you know he knows. "But be a good girl and I'll give you exactly what you want. That's why you're here, ain't it?"

Before you can answer he delivers several quick light smacks to your bare pussy. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough send the vibrations through you and straight to your struck clit. He removes his hand to look at your quickly reddening pussy before returning to smack you some more. You gasp, trying desperately to keep still and not moan at the building sensation he's pulling from you - you shouldn't be enjoying any of it at all, let alone this, but fuck you are. There's nothing violent about the way his hand is striking your naked cunt, the light slaps against you turning you on, zinging through you like a tuning fork being tapped on a hard edge.

You hear another laugh from between your legs.

"You've only been givin' it to her soft, sweetheart, when she's just crying out to have it rough."

He spanks your pussy again, this time you can't help the moan that escapes you, your back arching into his quick slap slap slap against your cunt. The speed of his palm slows, but the force increases, drawing obscene noises from you with each blow.

"Uh," the breath huffs out of you with each firm smack to your swollen cunt.

His hand pulls off of you and he spreads you wide again before a warm wet sensation draws up from your fluttering hole to your tender clit in a broad stroke. He's soothing your pussy with soft licks when he latches onto your clit and suckles gently before pulling back to look up at you.

"I like 'em pink like this," he mumbles around your clit, "You're bein' so good takin' it for me."

He's holding your thighs obscenely wide as his tongue lathes your clit, wrenching you open as you wiggle beneath him. You are so close, on the absolute precipice and moments from tipping over the edge, when he pulls from you completely, spreading your cunt open with an his thumbs for inspection once more. The man fucking loves looking at you.

"Look at her twitchin'. I think she likes being spread wide for me, look how wet she is." He dives in for another broad lick, slurping as he goes.

"It's just dripping outa you," he breathes. You feel the warm trickle of wetness drip its well worn path from your pussy and down between the cleft of your cheeks. His finger trails it, and you take in a sharp pull of air when the pad of his finger strokes your tight asshole, spreading your slick across it and causing your legs to twitch closed a fraction once again.

slap. You feel the sting and its aftershocks buzz through you before you hear it. "Keep 'em," slap, "fuckin'," slap, "open!" He soothes your pussy with his full hand again and you moan into him, fisting the sheets at your sides.

"Won't go there today. But don't think I'll be feelin' so generous next time." Next time. He rubs and squeezes your pussy, and you rock your hips into his palm, desperate for more anything.

"You likin' this?" he murmurs, his words almost sounds tender -

- Until another slap rings against your bare sodden skin.

"Answer me."

"Y-Yes!" you gasp out with the next spank to your oversensitive cunt. "Yes, please - I - fuck - please I need to -" slap slap slap slap

Your mind goes blank as a series of slaps are delivered straight to your pussy. A groan is pulled deep from your chest and you spread your legs more for him, pushing into his palm as it rains its gentle smacks down onto you.

"You're goin' to come, ain't you?" he growls out, his smacks getting quicker.

You nod frantically, so fucking close, you shouldn't be so close from this but you are. You're just about to beg for something more, anything more, when the smacks against your pussy get even quicker, and quicker, until he's rubbing frantically at your clit, so swollen from his attention that you practically scream at the sensitivity.

Your orgasm tears through you, drawing a deep guttural sound right from your belly. Your back arches, your dripping hole so neglected as it grips around nothing.

"Fuck," he grinds out from below you, stuffing two fingers quickly into your pussy to feel you grip around them as you rock through your orgasm. You can't see him do it, white blaring across your vision, but you hear the hiss of his breath as he pulls his cock out from his pants.

You whine when he pulls his fingers from your cunt, stroking himself with the slickness of you. He stands and presses himself between your legs, hot and heavy.

"You want it here?" he says, grinding the heft of his cock against your spent cunt. "'Cause you're making a mess, drippin' all over my sheets without me to plug you up." You're in a daze as you nod, still floating from the intensity of your orgasm as you stare dumbstruck at his rock hard length for the first time. It's so big.

It's too big.

"W-wait, it's too bi- "

"Fuckin' look. Watch as I fuck this into you sweetheart," he growls as he feeds the tip of his cock into you anyway, the solid width of him stretching more than you have ever been before, but your wetness letting him slide right in. He fucks the tip in and out, and you watch him do it.

In previous years you'd had nothing more than clumsy fumbles with men, some drunken, but most just uncaring one night stands with promises of more. There was never more. One way or another you were being used, but this time, and for the first time, you could call it what it was. There was no illusion of care here as Joel took what he wanted and made you watch.

And you liked that. You liked being used by him. You liked letting him do anything he wanted to you.

"I want you to watch her swallow me darlin'. Keep your eyes right there," he pushes his hips forward, the pressure of him filling you immense, and he groans as your cunt gives way to him and swallows him whole. "There she goes. Such a good little pussy for me."

"Keep lookin'," he groans again as he retreats from you only to fuck his full length back inside of you in one swift movement, "You look or I send you out of here jus' like this. See how the locals treat a naked slut in broad daylight."

Your cunt pulses with the threat, and Joel notices. He cocks his brows at you, still relentlessly fucking into you. "Oh, she likes that. You like bein' a slut, huh?"

Fuck yes, you want to scream, but instead you nod meekly, still watching him fuck you, obsessed with the sight of his cock disappearing into you over and over again.

"Good fuckin' girl."

Never once does he lean down to steal a kiss, or swipe his tongue across your bare nipple. You're naked for him but he does nothing with it except pound into your flesh, using your cunt to get himself off. His eyes flit between where he's disappearing into you and your eyes, watching with a sneer as they roll back into your head with each knock to your cervix.

"Fuu-uuck." He's hammering into you now, hips smoothly pounding your pelvis, when he grabs one of your arms and flips you onto your side, pushing your knee up so high it's practically by your ear. He slams back into the hilt again, rocking you back as you moan out wantonly around his cock.

From this angle his cock drags across you in ways you've never felt. You'd seen trees being felled as a kid, a wedge being hammered into a cut far too small to fit. You felt like you were being split, just like those trees.

"Ah - uh, I, Joel, please, I -" tears are in your eyes from how good it feels, the dull throb of the impact into your cervix melting your insides.

Joel brings one of his legs up beside you on the bed, the other planted firmly on the floor, giving himself leverage to fuck so deep and hard into you that the air is knocked out of you for a moment. When you can finally take another breath, you're screaming for him, your pussy creaming around him from the endless pounding.

The sloppy wet sounds of your cunt accepting his battering over and over are eventually taken overby moans being ripped from your throat. His belt rattles about his waist with each smack of his hips into yours, you can feel the metal of his buckle, bitingly cold against your skin.

"That's it - fuck - you just fuckin' take - it. You take this cock." You can feel his balls draw up and his cock twitch inside you as he gets close to bursting. He fucks you relentlessly anyway, desperately holding back as long as he can, until he can hold no more.

He drags his cock sharply from your used cunt, throwing you back onto your back on his mattress. His large hand grips his cock and he jerks it over you.

"Oh fuck yeah, fuck yeah," he's practically chanting as he jerks himself, letting out a deep stuttery groan when he finally comes, spurting hot cum all over your soft thighs, belly, chest.

He doesn't aim, he doesn't care where he gets it, the action more akin to a dog pissing on a tree to mark its territory than anything else.

The only noise in the room when Joel's shoulders finally relax are your twin heavy breaths, punctuated by light whines that you just can't help. You're so overstimulated that when his hand comes down to your thigh, you don't realize that he's smearing his cum into you until he's rubbing it into your belly, spreading it across the peaks of your tits, up your neck and across your cheek.

He gives you a light tap on the face. "Look at me," he says, swiping a come coated finger across your lips. You're entirely fucked out, all you can do is look dumbly at him, totally cockdrunk.

"What do you say?"

"I... wha-..." you know what he means when he raises his eyebrows threateningly once again. "Th-thank you."

"That's right."

Suddenly he's yanking you up into a seated position and the blood rushes to your head. Another tug, the world spins, and you're on your feet, but you can barely trust your legs. He drags you from the room and before you know it your own clothes are in your arms, the remains of his come dribbling down your body.

"Get dressed," he stands with his arms crossed, looking at you, expectant.

You stare for a moment, totally lost in his dark eyes, before moving to get your clothes back on. You are still covered in his come, your pussy still buzzing from his spanking. At some point, he tucked his cock back into his pants. You didn't even notice, and you try to push down the disappointment of not getting to see it one last time.

Pulling your clothes back on with skin sticky from sweat and come isn't easy, but you eventually manage. When you stuff your feet into your shoes, he grabs you by the arm and drags you toward the door, unlatching it and pushing you toward the exit.

"I'll consider your debt paid," he murmurs into your hair from behind, pushing you out of his apartment a second later.

"Oh and, catch," he throws something to you but you miss, barely even turning in time at his words. It rattles as it hits the ground. Pills.

"Told you I'd give you something if you were good." Confirmation that you were good for him is all you need to feel another gush of wetness between your thighs. You feel like you could come again from his words and the rough feeling of your panties against your abused cunt.

"What do you say?" he asks again.

"Thank you."

He smirks before closing the door in your face.

You lick your lips as you walk away down the empty corridor tasting Joel Miller for the first time, pills in hand and debt paid.

He never even kissed you.

next part

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller/reader #fic: SWAT #coveted fics

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green-alien-turdz · 4 months ago

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Hi, I know its been a minute n I don't really like that there is like one or two posts between this n my last 'i'm still alive' post. I'm sorry. I wanted to say thank you to everyone in general, but also the mfs who said some nice ass shit to me. Sorry I said some concernin ass shit n just dipped, that was pretty fucked. I never really had people care like all the people on here, so I ain't too used to havin to be more careful with the shit I do n say.

Thank you to everyone for the kind words, concern, n care. Comin back to see all of it made my fuckin heart melt. I know I'm just some dumbass postin south park shit on tumblr, but you guys are genuinely the most amazin mfs I've ever encountered. To the people who were in my inbox askin if I was still alive, I sincerely apologize for causin any stress or concern, it's not my intention. You guys are the sweetest people, and I'm sorry for doin that. I should prolly stop bein as vocal about bein so fucked, but I also like to be honest n I like sharin this shit bcuz I know mfs be goin through the same shit n bein alone in it feels fuckin awful majority of the time.

I am not well. I am doin very bad actually. There's a chance imma be forcefully medicated in the near future. Which is weird bcuz I used to always want that, I wanted to be fixed, but now I'm not sure for like a TON of reasons. One, ion wanna be changed (in a sense). If the meds take away or dull core aspects of myself, I will lose it further than I have already. Two, my parents raised me to never trust doctors or medicine, etc. Even though I do think modern medicine is a great thing, I still have my fears bcuz of how I was raised. Three, I fear the fuck outta what I will do. I know they warn that adjustment periods n shit like that can make things worse- but I literally cannot get any worse. If I do, I know I will not come out alive. Which bleeds into reason four, which is that I know, at some point, I would try n overdose. Handin me such a quick n thoughtless way to just end it is like the worst fuckin thing they could do. But whatever. Ion even know when it's gonna happen, all I know is that ion got a choice. Like, I'm pretty sure it's a situation that, if I don't comply, imma be locked tf up.

Uhh minor update shit- my cat came back home after almost a month of bein fuckin somewhere. She came back skinny, dirty, n sick, but she is slowly recoverin n I've never been more thankful. ED is still kickin my ass, but I'm forcin myself to at least have a fuckin soup I made bcuz I can't get shit done at work if I keep faintin or gettin injured. I have little to no time to do shitfuck, but still do random shit periodically before or after work. I actually redid my dresser n made some stupid ass video about the handles that I might post to youtube if I quit bein a pussy about it.

I haven't been drawin my fanart as of late- but I do want to. Imma focus on doin the requests I have bcuz I wanna give back the best I can. You guys stick with me through thick n thin. I thank you all so much. I'm sorry I'm always MIA. So my posts for a little bit are gonna be the requests n answerin all of my inbox. Ion know how long it'll take, but hopefully it won't get borin. I genuinely love makin things. I love drawin the shit I do n people findin some sort of connection to their lives or themselves. I just want people to feel less alone, less ugly, less whatever the fuck you feel. Each n every one of ya is fuckin amazin, so please don't forget it.

Imma stfu now. But I hope you guys have a good rest of your day or night or eternity. I'll be back to postin shortly, thank you for stickin with this shit show

#i prolly meant to say more but im pretty scrambled rn

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monkey-wrench-series · 8 months ago

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Monkey Wrench Now has a Ko-fi page!

We've been encouraged by several people to give Ko-fi a go, and after seeing how much Patreon takes from us per month after they introduced a new insights tab (about 20%!!!) (see image below) we thought we'd explore other avenues of funding, as losing $1k a month to BS fees, to me, is unacceptable.

So we got a Ko-fi page!

Over the coming days we're gonna be setting this Ko-fi up fully, like porting over our Ep 4 updates and such from Patreon, so whether you want to support us for a while or just do a one off donation knowing that 95% of it is actually going to the show and not being stolen for 'fee's' you can now do so!

Lordy, ain't making things FUN???

#monkey wrench #indie animation #2d animation #support #ko fi #wow patreon sucks lol

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2tcs · 7 months ago

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Danny’s Journal or A Countdown to the Beginning

Summary: A look into the year leading up to the accident from the perspective of a forgotten journal.

February 9, 2002

Dear journal. Mom and Dad said they had a surprise for me and Jazz when we get home from school. Please God don't let it be another ghost gun or something. My hair is still singed from the last one.

Update. It was, in fact, a gun. Jazz now has a mild burn on her arm and is screaming how they need therapy. Not disagreeing but I don't think it's going to happen.

February 12, 2002

Dear journal. Happy birthday. A year ago Jazz gave you to me for my birthday. How my parents haven't accidentally destroyed you I don't know.

Me Tucker, Sam, and Jazz went out to eat for my birthday. Sam even had her family driver take us a town over to try that new restaurant. Well, that's what their excuse was. I think they were trying to get me out of the house for a little bit since Mom and Dad are going on a rampage through the house disassembling all the appliances. It's 10 pm and I can still hear noise coming from the basement.

March 26, 2002

I have the best idea for an April Fools prank. It involves chez whiz and glitter.

April 1, 2002

The prank worked like a charm. The jocks are going to smell like cheese for weeks. And they ain't ever getting the glitter out.

On the downside. Dash broke my arm and Mom and Dad put a “Fenton Anti-ghost Cast” on me. It kinda glows and makes my arm feel weird.

April 23, 2002

Sam’s birthday party was a glorious disaster this year. Her mom decided to do a princess-themed party. We have been preparing for this day since Sam found one of her mom’s work journals. We managed to sneak paint and glitter bombs into the venue before anyone got there. We even managed to get one on each of the chandeliers. It was awesome. Everyone got covered in black paint and red glitter.

What we didn’t account for was Grandma Ida hiring professional snake handlers to bring in a bunch of snakes for Sam. The snakes were non-venomous and luckily were all caught after one of the rich people bumped into the table that the snake cage was on. And the paint was non-toxic so it was easy to clean off the snakes too without them getting sick. Still kinda feel bad that the snakes got caught in the crossfire though.

May 20, 2002

🎵Schools out for the summer!�� Lol this is going to be so exciting. Our last summer as middle schoolers. Nothing but the big leagues after this!

June 13, 2002

Dad wants to go camping for Father's Day so we're going to head out tomorrow morning. Think I heard them mention Lake Arrowhead. That'll be cool. Haven't fished there before.

June 15, 2002

I don't know how but we're in Gotham. Apparently, there's some stupid ghost conversation going on so we're going to be stuck here for the next week. On the pulse side though I found a really cool cafe not too far from the hotel. And they don’t seem to care if you just hang out as long as their not busy and you buy something. Me and Jazz will probably be spending a lot of time here or at their library. It’s huge and has an entire section of space!

June 16, 2002

Turns out I'm allergic to something called Blood Blossoms. Mom and Dad ended up having some guy try to cleanse me of “the evil spook” after I accidentally brushed up against the flowers he had on his table. Jazz had to convince them to get me to the hospital. Luckily one of the guys walking around had an epi pen. So that helped. Still sucks and now I'm stuck at the hotel while Jazz frets like a mother hen. I don't think she's even realized that she has a rash on her hand from when she threw the flowers away from me.

June 19, 2002

So… Batman is real… wtf? He apparently has some questions for Mom and Dad but they haven't come back yet. He apologized to me and Jazz for waking us up and gave us suckers? Which. Weird. And Jazz threw them away when he left because “stranger danger is still a thing even if they are a hero”. RIP little Root Beer flavored DumDum. You will be missed.

And on the other hand, Robin was pretty cool. He's snarky and brave and hilarious and he is just so cool. 10/10 New favorite Robin. He even gave me a book recommendation for the report I'm supposed to turn in at the start of freshman year.

June 22, 2002

We were supposed to leave Gotham today. We were supposed to finally head to one of the lakes on the way home to do some camping and fishing. We were supposed to have a relaxing time. So please journal. Can you tell me why the giant wannabe scaly just threw the GAV? Now we are going to be stuck in this stupid city for another week while Mom and Dad fix it.

June 24, 2002

I made a new friend! Do you remember that cafe I talked about a few days ago? Well, I met a guy there. His name is Jason. He’s an absolute lit nerd but is way cool. The guy’s got muscles underneath his school uniform too. The guy looks like he could snap me like a twig yet isn’t at all like Dash. Hopefully, we can keep in contact after we head back to Amity. For now, we are planning on meeting up at the cafe tomorrow with our favorite books. I found “Star Stories”at the library so I’m bringing it with me. I don’t know if he likes stars but I hope he likes some of the stories about them.

July 9, 2002

Finally back at home. Dad had smuggled fireworks into the GAV (how they didn’t explode when KC threw it in Gotham idk) so we spent the 4th of July shooting them off at the lake. We ended up going to Lake Erie for the camping trip because Mom heard something at the convention about a ghost hanging out around there. Didn’t see any ghosts but the fishing was good. I even caught a bass the size of my head! All around it was really fun! Oh and the stars were so clear! The Summer Triangle was so clear you could point out Vega, Deneb, and Altair! It was so cool! Did you know that Vega is in the Lyra constellation? Or Deneb is in the Cygnus Constellation. And Altair is a part of the Aquila constellation!

Maybe I should ask if Mom and Dad could get me another journal for charting the stars. I’ll need the practice if I want to become an astronaut.

July 29, 2002

It’s a good thing that I got two of everything when me, Sam, and Tucker went shopping for school supplies. I got a lot of new space-themed stuff but the moment I got home Dad insisted on ghost-proofing my new backpack… It melted. I don’t even know how he managed to melt a canvas bag. It didn’t even catch fire first. Just started melting the moment Dad started spraying his new “Fenten Ecto-Rejecto Spray” on it. Wtf Dad.

On the plus side, Sam found a new coffin backpack and Tucker was able to get a new bag that had a pouch that he can put the walkman he got yesterday for his birthday. He is so hyped about it.

August 6, 2002

School starts next week and I am so hyped. Finally going to be a high schooler. Cool Kids Club here we go!

August 15, 2002

Kill me now. May the Gods strike me down and end my suffering. May the Faits find me lacking and cut my string. May the Crone tear me from the tapestry, the mother rejects my thread from the loom and the maiden take the wool of my youth and set it aside.

Sam has just informed me that that isn’t quite what the Mother, Maiden, and Crone do but whatever. Just know that everything sucks because apparently someone called the house phone and told Mom and Dad that there was a ghost in the school. The A-listers are blaming me for ruining their high school debut.

August 30, 2002

Mom and Dad have started making more noise in the lab than normal. It’s gotten to the point that Jazz has been spending more time at the library to study. Speaking of Jazz, she has been obsessing over self-help and psychology books lately. I mean. Jazz has always talked up therapy but now she’s kinda getting snooty about it. Sam suggested we start hanging out at that gazebo thingy at the park so we can get our work done on the nicer days. We’ll have to hang at Tucker's place though on the rainy days. Sam’s parents have decided that it’s time to put their foot down and get Sam to “socialize with your actual peers Sammy-kins so that you can make better connections and start networking” or whatever. So basically Sam’s mom doesn’t want her to be associated with us plebs I guess.

September 8, 2002

Mom and Dad repurposed the fridge so they could put samples in it. Apparently, the one in the lab broke. The green stuff in the tubes kinda creeps me out. Jazz is yelling at them about it. I kinda agree. Cross-contamination anyone? Think I’m gonna eat out at Nasty more often.

September 28, 2002

Either I’m going crazy or the leftover chicken and noodle soup in the fridge was moving. Like the noodles were wiggling around like worms or something. Jazz ordered pizza.

October 5, 2002

There are new wires in the house now and they glow? Mom said that they had some sort of breakthrough and are using the samples that they have to coat some of the tech in the house to “ecto-proof” it. Apparently, the ectoplasm doesn’t like electronics so they weren’t really able to mix it with tech too well. Some of Mom’s blueprints look like Star Wars blasters. Dad’s are less impressive.

October 29, 2002

Mom and Dad have locked me and Jazz in our rooms because of the “Ghost Menaces”. Me and Jazz have both taped warning signs on our windows so some brave trick-or-treaters don’t accidentally get hurt.

November 1, 2002

The signs worked but I saw Mom and Dad taking off in the GAV around midnight. Whatever. Me and Tucker did manage to reach a new level in DOOM last night so that was cool. And it’s World Vegan Day today so Sam is going to take us out to eat at a vegan place for dinner. I have no clue what Tucker’s going to eat. Well probably get it to-go so he can get something.

I found out where Mom and Dad went last night. The cops showed up and gave Mom and Dad a ticket for destroying a part of the park's water fixture. Someone had organised a haunted forest thing in the park and my parents went absolute ape.

November 2, 2002

Who told Mom and Dad about Dia de Los Muertos? Or that there was a little remembrance celebration/party thing going on today because of it? I’ve decided to make deviled eggs in protest of their chaos and have also bought candy skulls to eat.

November 18, 2002

Apparently, there is an Occult Day(?) and Sam insists we spend the day researching cults. Tucker has found a tech cult online that says there is “Techno Magic” and he is now trying to learn it. Sam has found a book of curses and has been giggling since she found it. Sam giggling is terrifying. I am concerned.

November 28, 2002

The turkey came to life and attacked us. Mom and Dad are blaming ghosts but me and Jazz agree that this is totally their fault for putting the stupid ecto in the fridge. At least the rest of the food was edible. I mean. It had a kinda glowing but I haven’t gotten sick yet. So yay?

November 29, 2002

So the food wasn’t good and I ended up getting sick this morning. fml Jazz is mad that I ate some of it. I am fully aware of what food safety is Jazz. But I was hungry and after the turkey, I was just tired and hangry. I had no clue you had ordered pizza so :p

December 5, 2002

On the 5th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me! Nothing because my family is insane. Mom and Dad are already starting their yearly Santa argument. Sam and Tuck are both out of town to visit family for the holidays, Jazz is avoiding the house because it’s “disruptive to my mental development” and I’m grounded for yelling at Dad when he burst into my room and accidentally made my little Rover fall off the shelf and brake.

December 9, 2002

Mom and Dad’s insanity is ramping up. They almost never leave the lab now and whenever I try to bring food down to them they either just mumble and keep working or start arguing again. The whole in the wall has a frame now too.

December 24, 2002

I made a mistake when I brought Mom and Dad their dinner today. In my defense, I was just tired of them yelling about Santa. So I asked why they had hazmat suits but me and Jazz didn’t if ecto was so dangerous. Because if it’s that dangerous then the fact we have ecto in the fridge means that we should all have suits. Jazz is furious with me cause now our parents are making us try on our new suits tomorrow. I am terrified of whatever monstrosity they create no matter how “fashionable” Dad claims they will be.

December 25, 2002

It’s worse than I thought. Mine’s white.

January 15, 2003

Gods, I hate this. I’ve been sick for the past week and Jazz says we’re almost out of soup. I keep going back and forth between being hungry and puking up whatever Jazz feeds me. Mom says that she has some tea that may help but when Dad brought it up it tasted funny. It did make me feel a little better but it just had a really weird taste. Dad said it’s just because I’m sick so everything tastes funny right now.

January 19, 2003

Is it weird that I want to lick the ecto in the fridge? I’m pretty sure it is but it still kinda looks lickable to me. Like how you know that D batteries are not edible but almost everyone has licked one at some point?

Jazz just gave me a lecture about putting things in my mouth that I shouldn’t… Again…

January 27, 2003

Jazz scared me this morning. I walked into the kitchen this morning and just saw glowing eyes. Like a cat’s eyes in the dark. Jazz thinks I’m hallucinating from lack of sleep because of the all-nighter I pulled with Tuck trying to pass the next level on DOOM but I swear that her eyes were glowing.

February 9, 2003

I’m starting to worry. I know they're obsessed with their dumb portal but they haven’t eaten in 2 days. Jazz is planning on going down there and persuading (yelling at them) them to eat if they don’t come up for dinner tonight.

February 12, 2003

Happy Birthday to me. I am now 14 years old. Mom and Dad forgot it was my birthday again. They ran into the kitchen this morning because they completed their portal. They even dragged me and Jazz down into the lab to see them turn it on before we went to school. It didn’t work and now Mom and Dad are going to take a drive around town to clear their heads. They probably won’t be back until dinner time. Sam and Tucker are coming over after school though so at least it will be quiet while they are over. And I think Jazz is going to make a cake if the box of mix I saw her trying to hide from me yesterday is any indication.

#danny phantom #a touch of #dpxdc #journal #oneshot

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trippinsorrows · 6 months ago

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with me + part twelve

authors note: you guys are seriously the nicest and most supportive. the comments always make me stupidly smile and laugh cause not a single one of ya'll is gonna let bdj die off. 😭 also, i know a couple of people have commented and asked about the backstory with joe and jadah, and i promise it'll be explored deeper. there's a subplot i'm working towards unveiling here, and it's nearing the reveal part, but we're not there yet! i promise, though, it's gonna be touched on!!!

i also had to chop this chapter in half, because it's honestly so much stuff, so the next update shouldn't take as long cause it's almost done.

the next two are gonna be so fun. maybe some shit will go down too. we shall see.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, some angst, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 8k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

“So let me get this straight, in the time that I’ve been gone, you and Joe told Callie he’s her dad, you found out Amir and Mariah been fucking behind your back, and you had a semi mental breakdown after running into your father and, plot twist, long lost sister.” She counts each off with a finger, then asking. “Did I miss anything?”

Nodding, you take a scoop of your ice cream before adding, “Joe told me he loves me.”

In true Alexis fashion, she randomly arrived in town the night before, completely unaware of all that transpired in her absence. So, you take this time while Callie sleeps to catch her up.

“Did I miss anything that I didn’t already know?” You give her a look, and she rolls her eyes, also eating some of her Rocky Road. “Come on, Y/N. Ray Charles could see that man is in love with you. You’re the one being stupid by not reciprocating.” Before you can push back against her, even if she isn’t entirely wrong, she switches topics. “Now when are we gonna go beat Lieriah’s ass? I told you it was something about that girl. She’s a snake.”

Typically the one to defend your friends, it’s hard to find it in you to come to Mariah’s aid. Nevermind the fact that she knows the shitty things Amir has done to you over the years, it’s the fact that she’s supposed to be your best friend but is messing around with same ain't shit ex? You would never do something like that to her, but maybe your loyalty to her has always been stronger than hers to you.

“I’m not worried about him or her. They’re not worth it.” That’s partially true, but the sting of betrayal is slow to pass and even slower to heal. You’ve always had mid to low expectations for Amir, but Mariah? That’s a crushing blow. “I have more important things to figure out.”

She studies you, leaning back against the headboard. “Your sister.”

“Bianca,” you correct. It’s too uncomfortable referring to her as such, even if that’s exactly what she is.

In the weeks since the big fireworks show—both metaphorically and figuratively—you’ve tried to slowly return to your sense of normalcy. Focusing on Callie—who is an entirely different issue in and of itself that you really need to talk to your mom about—being more on top of things at work, and navigating your relationship with Joe.

He hasn’t been back to visit since Christmas, but you figured as such. Wrestlemania season has arrived, and you know better than anyone how crazy that time is, especially with him main eventing.

But the one thing you haven’t really allowed yourself to think too much about is Bianca. You’d sent her a vague apology text a few days after your mad dash and explained that you were dealing with some things and just needed time to sort through them. That you’d reach back out when you were ready.

That still hasn’t happened, and it’s entirely intentional.

“I remember you mentioned that you always wanted siblings?”

“Yeah, cause we have so much to bond over,” you mutter, bitterly.

“Well, you actually do have a lot in common. She’s a teacher, like you. She has a daughter, like you—”

“You know what we don’t have in common?” You interrupt, feeling the agitation growing again. It’s not directed toward Alexis, just the situation in general. “A father who loves us.”

You were done referring to that man as your father. A father shows up. Like Joe. That son of a bitch isn’t even in the same universe as Joe.

Her expression softens. You didn’t tell her everything, just enough for her to get the gist that he’s a piece of shit. And you definitely did not tell her about the time you went to see him. You’ve never told anyone that story. Joe is now the only one who knows, and you’d like to keep it that way. It’s just….it’s just too painful. “I had no idea that was the situation there…..I’m really sorry, girl.”

“It is what it is. I don’t need him.” And you’re not too sure if you need Bianca either. “I’m just trying to figure out if I should power through this for Callie’s sake. You should have seen how she and Taylor clicked. I would hate to take that away from her.”

“I get that,” she acknowledges. “You have to make the decision that’s best for the long run, not necessarily how you’re feeling right now.” That’s very easy to say and nearly impossible to do. “Even if you just allow the girls to interact while you keep some distance with Bianca.”

You’re partially intrigued, spooning some more cookie dough. “How would that work?”

“They don’t live here, right?” You nod. “Maybe the girls can talk on Facetime or even play some game on their tablets. That won’t cause you to interact much with mom outside of coordinating virtual playdates, and Callie still gets to spend time with her cousin, or, not cousin."

You sit on her words, not expecting to be as open to the idea as you are. It’s a pretty genius compromise. “You really do give some great advice sometimes, you know that?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she smiles mischievously, and you just shake your head. “Now, who’s gonna knock this bitch Mariah over the head with a steel chair? Me or you? Or should we hit her with a bus, Regina George style?”

“Alexis!”

________

You clearly don’t love yourself because you decided to do both yours and Callie’s washday on the same damn day. A Sunday, at that. Meaning, you have no choice but to get it done because you have work the next day.

And Alexis being in town would be even more of a benefit than it already is if she actually knew how to do hair. Natural hair. She can lay any wig down better than Tae, but caring for coils and curls is another story. It’s why you declined her offer, and she lays knocked out in your bed, while Callie is fast asleep in hers.

Thankfully, you have an insanely generous and sweet man who’s offered to talk to you while you power through this debacle, noodle arms, sleep deprivation, and all.

“Oh, before I forget again.” You grab the bottle of leave-in to apply more to the next section of hair. Shingling may give you the most definition, but it also gives you the most discomfort. “Can you be here May 8th?” A smile falls on your face. “Our baby is graduating preschool, and I know she’d want you there. I do too.”

“Shit, they have preschool graduations?” He seems genuinely taken back before answering. “But, of course I’ll be there.”

“I know. I used to think they were stupid, but now it’s my kid, so it’s the best thing ever. Her cap and gown should come some time in March, so I’m gonna have one of my old teammates who’s a photographer take professional photos of her.” It’s literally just preschool, but that’s still something she’s accomplished, and you want to commend the occasion the best you can. It’s been years since you’ve had professional photos of her taken anyway. Not since she was first born. “And yes, I’ll get extra for you.”

“How much—”

“Anyways, let me show you the tattoo.” Joe has already done so much, the least you can do is cover the photo costs. Even though you know him well enough to know he’ll find some way to contribute. Thankfully, the side of your hair that still needs to be shingled is clipped at the top of your head, so all you have to do is turn around and push down the thin strap of your shirt to reveal your latest ink. “He did an amazing job.”

“Shit, he did.” Joe’s agreement and approval somehow makes you even more satisfied with the outcome. Your Christmas gift to yourself was finally getting that Moana tattoo Callie has wanted to see on you since you told her you were getting one damn near a year ago. It’s on the back of your left shoulder, a black manta ray, some blue ocean-like coloring with one of your favorite lyrics from the movie: I will carry you here in my heart. You remind me, that come what may, I know the way.

It’s one of Callie’s favorite songs but also feels like an ode to your grandma as well.

He then asks, “do you want more?”

Readjusting your shirt and turning back around, you answer, “of course. More Disney but also….” This discussion triggers something for you, something that seems a little out there, but also maybe not. “I saw this tattoo on Pinterest that I want to get for Callie.” You grab your phone. “Let me send it to you.” It’s saved in your favorites folder and thus an easy send. Placing the phone back on the counter, you wait for him to receive and see it.

“I like it.” It’s a baby’s footprint with the name written in cursive and date of birth in print right underneath it. You’ve always wanted Callie’s name on you but couldn’t settle on a design until you came across that one. Something about it just resonates with you.

Licking your lips, you suggest, “why don’t you get it with me?” Couples getting matching tattoos isn’t something you’re entirely against, you just don’t agree with it for people who are only dating and not married, if marriage is the goal. You remember when Amir once suggested you do so, and you literally laughed in his face. You’d soon rather get branded with a tramp stamp than have that man’s name permanently burned into your skin.

But, matching tattoos for the child you created together with the man you love. That is something you could get behind.

And apparently so can he.

“Let’s do it.”

“Really?” You’re not sure why, but the ease of his agreement shocks you. It’s not too far-fetched when you think about it. He loves his daughter, and you’ve always known Joe to only get tattoos that have meaning. He could give you a detailed explanation for every piece of ink on his body.

“Yeah.” There’s almost a sense of excitement in his voice, like he’s eager to have her name on him, to share this with you. “Same location?” At that, you make a face. He laughs. “Inner bicep does hurt, I’m not even gon’ lie to you.”

Yeah, you’ve definitely heard as such, and considering his entire right side is tatted, he’d know. “I don’t know. I have to think about it. I might need to squeeze your hand the whole time, or I’ll end up punching the tattooist.”

He laughs, “you can squeeze my hand.” Joe then asks, “when do you want to get em’ done?” You start to think about it logistically, as well as financially. Tattoos aren’t cheap. “Do you want to go to the Super Bowl?”

His question surprises you because it’s such a change in topics but also….what? “Yup. And Hawaii and Puerto Rico. And then maybe if we have time, stop by Alice in Wonderland.”

He’s too good at matching your sass, retorting, “I can make the first two happen easily. The last one may be a stretch.” Rolling your eyes, you grab for the gel. “I’m serious though. My tattoo artist is based out of Vegas. The game is in Vegas this year. It’ll let me see Callie too, cause I’m having a hard time finding a gap to visit.” As he continues to speak without laughing or chuckling, you realize he’s dead serious. “I’ve been meaning to ask you to go anyway but kept forgetting.”

You need extra clarification. “Like this year's Usher concert where there’s apparently a game too?”

He rolls his eyes, providing the guest list. “It’s me and the twins, their family, some other fam…..we have a whole section, cause you know it's a bunch of us.” It’s still hard to sit on the fact that this man really just invited you to the fucking Super Bowl like it’s dinner at Golden Coral. His eyes soften. “I wanna see her. I wanna see you.”

Joe’s closing statement, so true and vulnerable, is what breaks you from your temporary state of shock. You get the sense he misses ya’ll just as much as you miss him. “Of course, we’ll go. I’m sorry, I just—I wasn’t expecting that.” And it’s true, you weren’t. “How will we get fl—”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything. I just need you to show up at the airport.”

That seems to be such a recurring theme with this man. He does everything he can to make things as easy for you as possible. It’s tremendously appreciated and doesn’t go without notice.

“This is the first time she’ll be meeting the twins,” you realize aloud. Hell, his family at all.

Joe nods, chuckling. “Yeah, they’ve been on my ass about that anyway. They want to meet her.”

Pinning down the section you just finished, you take down the next. A little over halfway done now. “Whoever you want her to meet is fine with me, Joe. I don’t even really have a say in that. She has every right to meet your family just as much as she’s had to meet mine.”

And it’s true. Unless it could present some harm to Callie, you don’t really feel like you have the right to object to things like that. You have zero desire to interfere with Joe and Callie anymore than you already have.

“I know. I just wanted to tell her the truth before introducing her to anyone else. Less lies.” Makes sense. Thinking about Callie meeting more family brings a small smile to your face. It’s what she deserves. Family members who actually want to be in her life.

The conversation brings something else to the forefront of your mind, partially due to Joe’s confession to you on Christmas but also a question you’ve wanted to ask him for much longer than you’d like to admit.

“So….” This shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as it is. “There’s something I want to ask you, but I don’t…..I don’t want to overstep.” If he were to tell you that he’d rather you not, that’d be fine with you, one less stressful thing on your plate. But, of course, he’s silent, meaning he’s not going to object. So….you decide to bite the bullet and go for it. “What happened between you and your wife?”

You’re certain he wasn’t expecting that to be what you asked, but to your surprise, he answers. “We were young and got married for the wrong reason. I was 22. She was 21.”

Unsure but taking a big risk regardless, you ask in a small voice. “What was the reason?”

His answer isn’t what you’re expecting either. “She was pregnant.”

It takes a second for you to process what he’s saying. Your stomach is suddenly in knots, chest feeling tight. There’s no way he’s kept something like that from you. No way in hell. “Wait, does Callie have—”

“No.”

And just like that, you know. He doesn’t need to explain. It’s painfully obvious, especially as he looks away from the camera. You have a feeling you've unlocked a painful memory he’d most likely kept tucked away.

“I’m sorry.” It feels so stupid and unhelpful to say. What does that do for him? It doesn’t take away that experience, that loss that you can’t even begin to imagine. But, it’s all you can offer. “Just—forget I asked, let’s change the subject.” Do you have more questions? Of course. Like, why was there such a gap between their loss and the divorce? But, this is understandably a difficult and sensitive subject, and the last thing you want to do is trigger him more than you already have.

You know better than anyone how awful that can be.

He agrees with the subject change, going along with the transition of topics, clearly grateful for your understanding. But, in the back of your mind, you can’t help but think about the fact that this man lost his firs child before he could even meet the them, and the child he had who did survive was kept a secret from him for nearly five years.

There’s a sudden sickness and disgust you feel. And it’s not towards anyone but yourself.

Joe had every goddamn right to be furious with you about your subterfuge.

He still does. ________

“Mama, something is up with Callie.”

You’re thankful Alexis agreed to keep Callie preoccupied in the living room while you have this conversation with your mom, because Callie had another incident just this morning, slamming her door when you told her she needed to pick up her toys.

She’s never done that.

But she has done other things in the past two weeks or so, rolling her eyes or pouting her mouth at you when you say something she doesn’t want to hear, beyond typical tantrums.

Your mom stops her stirring at the pot to turn around and look at you. “What do you mean? Is she sick?”

“No,” you answer and then realize you’re not entirely sure how to explain it. She’s not being bad, per se. Just….difficult. “She’s just been…..off.”

Genuinely intrigued, and partially concerned, you watch your mom turn the fire on low as she joins you at the kitchen table. “Tell me.”

Shaking your head, you explain. “I thought it was just me, that I was just being overprotective and hyper-vigilant, but when I picked her up from preschool yesterday, her teacher pulled me to the side and asked me if she’s been having sleep problems. I told her no and asked why, and she told me Callie has been irritable. With staff and other kids.”

“Callie?” Your mom seems just as taken back as you were hearing these words. “That doesn’t even sound like her.”

“I know, and that’s what I said at first, but then I thought about it, and she’s been crabby with me too. It’s not horrible, but it’s unlike her.”

A small part of you wonders if it has something to do with you running off on her on Christmas. It would make sense. She was doing absolutely fine before then, but it’s the timing that throws that theory off. You’ve noticed this change only in the past two weeks, well after Christmas day passed, so why the delay?

“What does Joe think it is?”

“I haven’t told him.” It’s not that you don’t want to. You’d just like to have a better grasp of what it is before doing so. Have more actual information to provide him.

“He hasn’t seen the behavior for himself?”

You shake your head. “She’s fine with him. Matter of fact, after his calls, she’s like a completely different child.” It’s watching your mom’s face settle into a look of realization that makes you ask, “what? What is it?”

“Honey” she starts with a soft chuckle. “She’s missing her daddy.”

Her answer catches you by surprise, painting your face with confusion. You’ve had a lot of theories, but that definitely wasn’t one of them. “What?”

Reaching across the table, she places her hand over yours. “Think about it. How would she react if you were gone as much as he is? She’d be a mess, cause you’re her mama, and she has a strong attachment to you. Look how easily she attached and connected with Joe. It’s always been there. Except she knows the truth now, so her attachment is even stronger.” You heed to her explanation, wise and sensible. You hadn’t even thought of it that way. “And isn’t this the longest he’s been gone without her seeing him? She’s acting out because she misses him and probably doesn’t know how to verbalize it, so it shows in her behavior.”

As relieved as you are to have an explanation that makes sense, it’s an explanation that makes you incredibly sad for your sweet child. You know how hard it is for Joe to get away right now, you understand it. It never crossed you that she wouldn’t.

Devastated, you ask, “what do I do?”

“Talk to her. Try to help her understand. It may not make a huge difference, but it’s something.”

You nod, so so grateful for her, for all that she does for you, for Callie. For all that she’s done. Reaching across the table, you hug her tightly. “thank you, mama.” As much as it devastated you to not have that man in your life, your mom made sure to go above and beyond to make sure you knew you were loved. She played both roles beautifully, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to make her understand what that meant to you.

You still haven’t really sat her down and explained everything that happened Christmas night, nor has she asked, but you know it’s because she’s trying to respect your space. It’s appreciated, but you also know you’re gonna have to eventually tell her.

Just not now.

Right now, you’ve gotta take care of your baby.

________

Even the energy in Callie’s playroom feels off.

You’re so used to walking in and finding her with that million dollar smile that makes your entire day better. Instead, you walk in and she doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. She just continues to color.

“Hey, baby….” Disappointed, but refusing to show as such, you welcome yourself in and approach her table. “Is it okay if I color with you?”

She still doesn’t say anything, just nods, and you do your best not to hide your sadness. You hate seeing her this down, it’s so unfamiliar, and you’ll do just about anything to fix it.

Sitting down in the uncomfortable seat, you take a couple of her pages and pull out a crayon. “I have an idea.” At that, she looks up, slightly intrigued. “Why don’t we draw how we’ve been feeling lately? I draw me, and you draw you.”

You scold yourself for not selling it to her better, for not telling her it’s something you sometimes do with your students. Some level of innocent peer pressure. However, she surprises you by agreeing with a simple “okay.”

It takes a second for you to register that it was really that simple. Step one is done. Now for step two.

Grabbing some crayons, you don’t really concern yourself with skin tone, just getting something out on paper. The two of you color in silence, and you start to offer to put on her favorite playlist but decide against it.

You want her to really think about what you’re asking.

It’s when you see that she’s placed down her crayon and is just staring at her picture that you ask, “you done?” She shakes her head, but her eyes are on the table in front of her. “Is it okay if mommy sees it? I’ll show you mine too.”

Handing you the page, you expect an influx of emotions, but actually seeing her literal representation of how she feels is simply heartbreaking.

She’s drawn herself, frowning, surrounded by broken hearts and a blue tear leaking from her eye. Callie did what you asked. You just wish it didn’t have you feeling so helpless.

“This means you’ve been feeling sad, huh?” You hate how your voice gives away your emotions. This is about her, not you, but it’s so difficult for you to not be impacted. No mother wants to see her child hurting, and Callie currently is. It kills you. “Callie….” Moving up from your chair, you move across to kneel in front of her, taking her hands in yours. “Have you been sad because you miss your dad?”

All you need to hear is one sniffle, and instantly, you’re reaching for her, holding and comforting her.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, kissing the top of her head. “It’s okay, baby.” She cries into your chest, and you have to hold back your own tears.

“Why doesn't he come back?” She asks in between tears, wiping her eyes. “He’s been gone a really long time.” It’s only then you realize that she’s not entirely exaggerating. Joe was last here for Christmas. It’s now the end of January. For a child like Callie, that must feel like an eternity.

“He would if he could, Callie. I promise you he would. Daddy just…he gets really busy with his job this time of the year, and he can’t leave or he’ll get in trouble.” It’s so difficult to explain this to her. WrestleMania season is inarguably chaotic and stupidly busy. Even back in the day, Joe’s trips to see you were most far and few in between during this time of year. And that was before he even had a title. You can’t even imagine how busy he must be as the literal fucking face of the company.

Enough to keep him from being able to come see you and Callie.

You’ve just gotten so used to the dynamics of him being away for periods at a time that it never occurred to you Callie hasn’t had the same experience. That at the end of the day she’s still a little kid who just wants to be with her dad.

It’s then that a thought crosses your mind.

“What if…..what if we went to see daddy?” For the first time since you stepped into the room, her eyes actually light up and you notice her tears lessening. “Instead of him coming to us, we go see him?”

“Really?” There’s the faintest smile on her face, and you know then that you’re going to make this happen. You don’t know how or in what way, but it will be a reality. No matter what it takes.

“Yeah,” you answer, brushing away some of her tears. “You can go see him at his show. He’d love that.” Not as much as she clearly loves the idea alone. “Now, we’d only be able to stay a day or maybe two but—”

“Please,” she interrupts, and you get the sense that she fears you’re going to find a way to say that you couldn’t or shouldn’t go. “I’ll be a good girl. I promise.”

“Baby, you’re already the best girl.” You push back some of her hair, resting your hand against her cheek. “Mama’s gonna make it happen, okay? I promise.”

If you have to sell one of your kidneys, then you’ll just be less one organ, because you’re getting your baby to that damn show. Matter of fact, you don’t say anything to her, but you’re wondering if you can make it to this week’s upcoming show. It’s only Sunday, and that gives you a couple of days to make arrangements and secure tickets. It’s doable, but you don’t want to get her hopes up, so just in case, you say nothing.

And yes, in the back of your mind, you know she’ll see Joe in a couple of weeks for the game, but that’s too long. Your child is hurting. You need to do something now. She can’t wait that long.

“Thank you, mommy!” She wraps her little arms around you, and just like that, you see the spark and joy that fills your days with light and laughter. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby.” Kissing her temple, you release her, realizing something else. “Now we can't tell your daddy because we’re gonna surprise him, okay? Can you do that for me?”

She nods, happily, unaware of the real reason. You know that you can’t tell Joe about this. Well, not now at least. This is not something to be discussed over the phone or even video chat. And if you tell him you want to take her to see him as soon as possible, he’ll know something is up.

So, you have to move in silence.

Coloring with Callie commences for a little longer as you value and cherish your time with her, but as soon as she’s down for her nap and before you wake Alexis from hers to tell her the news, you need to do something. It’s in that time bonding with her you realized how you’re going to make this happen.

You’re suddenly immensely grateful for that random conversation you’d had with Joe a while back regarding the fact that he and the twins have had the same phone number since they were in high school.

Pulling out your phone, you scroll through your contacts until you land on the one you need. You type, backspace, and type some more, only sending out the text once you’re fully pleased with it.

You: Hey, Jon. This is Y/N. Can you call me when you get a chance? Preferably sooner rather than later. I need your help with something. And please don’t tell Joe. It’s a surprise.

________

God clearly wants you to bring Callie to see Joe.

There’s just too many things that have lined up perfectly for that not to be the case. The discussion with your principal went well, though that wasn’t entirely surprising. You’ve always had a cordial relationship and know she respected your grandma. The whole school system in your town did. That was just her level of impact. But that respect has slid down to work in your favor as your principal told you to take as much time as you need.

“You’ll always have a job here.”

While not a huge concern, it’s reassuring and not entirely unsurprising. Again, your grandma’s impact definitely granted you a level of nepotism. You were slightly surprised when she actually encouraged you to take more time off, pointing out how in the almost nine years you’ve worked there, she could count on one hand how much PTO or vacation time you’ve used. And, it’s true. It was really only when Callie was sick and your mom couldn't help or you wanted to stay home and nurse her back to health that you called out. For the most part, you had damn near perfect attendance.

But, that’s certainly about to change, and you’re thankful you have a job that’s flexible enough to accommodate the change.

And then there’s the actual getting there. You should have known when Alexis was asking questions about when you and Callie were leaving that she was up to something. You naively chalked it up to her planning her flight out, as there was no way you expected her to wait around for ya’ll to get back. Instead, she was busy buying not just her ticket to come with ya’ll but yours and Callie’s as well.

You instantly felt bad when she forwarded you the itinerary information. You couldn’t see the cost, but you weren’t stupid either. Getting flights out with such short notice had to be expensive as all outdoors. You were just going to put the bill on your credit card and work to pay it off. And, of course, when you offered to pay her back, she nearly cussed you out. As if such an offer was insulting.

“What good is a trust fund if you can’t spend it on your college roomie and pretend godchild?”

So, while you still felt slightly uncomfortable, you were able to push it to the backburner for the sake of Callie. This is all for her, and you don’t care what it takes to make it happen. Even if it means sucking up your pride.

And deep down, you know if Alexis didn’t do what she did, Joe would somehow find a way to compensate you. The same way his ass somehow got his card on file at the hospital and covered all of Callie’s medical bills without ever even asking you if you needed help.

You still haven’t talked to him about that, not really having or finding the right time, but it also feels a bit bitchy and ungrateful to be upset with the man for covering his daughter’s medical expenses.

Then there’s the actual show itself. One thing you were initially concerned about was if Joe has a match lined up for this upcoming week’s show. You two have only had a couple of discussions about it but still enough for you to learn that he’s extremely hesitant to expose Callie to his wrestling persona.

“I don’t want her seeing me like that, thinking that’s who I am.”

And you understand him fully. Roman may be a fascinating character, but he’s equally narcissistic and ruthless as he is intriguing. The complete opposite of Joe and who he is.

Still, you’ve worked to help him understand that talking to Callie, explaining to her that he’s playing a “character” could help her understand better. You both are in agreement that she’s too young to watch actual matches, especially his as they tend to get brutal, but she can see certain promos. And she does. You let her watch a couple where the dialogue is safe enough to go over her head. And truth be told, she’s so focused on watching Joe that she's not really paying attention to what’s being said anyway.

Needless to say, you were massively relieved to hear from Jon that Joe doesn't have a match lined up and his promo is reportedly tame and safe enough for Callie’s eyes and ears. He didn’t give specifics, but from one parent to another parent, you trust his judgment.

And the most important thing of all is the fact that Callie has done a complete 180. She’s no longer as irritable, just the usual attitude when she’s sleepy or hungry. Just like her mama. And there’s that spark of joy in her eyes. She’s even started packing what she wants to bring with her. She knows you’ll only be there for one night, but even that can’t seem to dim her joy.

It makes your heart swell.

All of this brings you to your conclusion that you’re doing exactly what you should be doing.

“Ahhh, and here it is.” The old woman’s voice breaks you from your inner dialogue as she walks toward the counter, returning from the back. “Sorry about that sweetheart.”

“No worries, Mrs. Ella.” Your eyes light when you see the item in her hand, even if it’s covered by a cloth bag. The fact that it’s ready is more than enough to make you smile. “Thank you so much for agreeing to this.”

She waves off your concern, offering a warm smile. “Your grandma was one of my best friends. As far as I’m concerned, anything you need is a done deal.”

That warms your heart. Mrs. Ella has been the town seamstress for longer than you’ve been alive but doesn’t look a day over 50. She’s not lying either. Your grandma always cited her as one of her “life” sisters.

“Why don’t we take a look to make sure it’s alright?” She offers, removing the item from the garment bag. She takes the hoodie and turns it over so you can see the back.

In awe, you acknowledge, “it’s perfect.”

Among the many things Joe has gifted Callie, WWE apparel hasn’t really been included in that list. You’ve chalked it up to his hesitation about familiarizing her with his Roman persona. However, you know that girl loves her daddy and will support him in all the things, so you took it upon yourself to pick her up a few items over the holidays. One of those things being a black hoodie with Roman’s picture on the front with him wearing one of his head of the table shirts. Wanting to make it special and personal, you had the idea of customizing it. Thus, asking Mrs. Ella to add to the back, Acknowledge my daddy!, and she did a fabulous job. It looks like that was the original design.

Pulling out your wallet, you ask, “how much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

Your eyes snap to her. “Mrs. Ella, no, this was a rush—”

“Don’t argue with your elders, child,” she scolds, and you smile warmly. “Just show me a picture of her wearing it, and we’ll be even.”

Moved by her generosity, you offer your gratitude again. “Thank you, Mrs. Ella. Seriously. Thank you.”

Hand over yours, she just nods and then ushers you out the door, “well, you better get a move on child.”

With a small laugh and one more thank you, you leave out with the hoodie, excited to show Callie and even more, to see Joe’s reaction when he sees her wearing it.

“Y/N?”

Fuck. You’d know that voice anywhere, have known it since you were five years old.

That doesn’t mean you have to heed to it.

You keep walking.

A stupid decision, because the footsteps behind you become louder and faster as she asks, exasperated, “would you just talk to me?”

You spin around, suddenly pissed at her repeated question. “Why? Why should I talk to you?”

You’ve dodged and ignored her texts the same way she did yours, so what’s the issue now? Being on the receiving end must be one hell of an unpleasant experience for her. Not that you give two shits. Mariah is the last thing on your plate right now.

Mariah seems taken back, and that just pisses you off more. How can she not see her wrong in this situation? “You’re my best friend, Y/N. We’ve been friends since we were in kindergarten. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Did it mean something to you when you were fucking Amir?”

Something you can’t identify flashes in her eyes followed by apparent hurt. “Are you serious right now? You’d really believe him over me.” It’s hard to tell how sincere her watery eyes are or if they’re performative. You’ve never known her to be fake, but then again, maybe you’ve never really known her at all. “That’s fucked up.”

Finding some level of compassion and understanding for the woman you called your best friend for almost your entire life, you try to offer her the benefit of the doubt. “Okay, let’s say you’re not fucking him. At the very least, you’ve been telling him my business while ignoring my texts and calls. Like, what the fuck, Mo?”

She shakes her head. “He came to me, worried about you—”

“He came to you nosy and upset because I cut it off with him, and you fell into his trap.” How she can possibly fall for Amir’s bullshit is beyond you. She knows how he is. Hell, she’s been right beside you, up until recent weeks/months, dealing with his bullshit. So, her excuse is just that—an excuse. “And even if he was, as my best friend, you should know that’s still girl code violation.”

It feels almost silly citing that, but the morals behind it still ring true. You would never talk to Caleb about things going on in her life when you know they’re not on good terms. And you damn sure would never fuck him.

“Girl code?That’s funny coming from you, because you didn’t seem to to care about girl code when you were fucking another woman’s husband and had a whole ass baby for him.”

Her words stop you dead in your tracks. Any facial expression you may have been showing is dropped and neutral. Even your voice is softer, less accusatory. “Excuse me?”

For her to say that to you, knowing how sensitive a subject that is truly takes you by surprise. Truly.

It doesn’t stop there though. “I mean, forreal, Y/N. You’re up in my face about Amir, but aren’t you still fucking Joe? Shit, how many niggas do you need?” It’s hard to believe the words coming out her mouth, so angry and hostile. But, even her volume rising has you stumped. It’s like she wants to draw an audience. “It’s not enough to be one man’s whore, but you still gotta have another on the side?”

Truly baffled, all you can ask is, “where is this coming from?”

She sucks her teeth, just as irritated, if not more by your question. “It’s always been this shit with you. You do whatever the fuck you want and don’t care who you hurt or betray in the process!”

And now you’re just straight up confused, because what have you ever done to her? Cause that’s what it sounds like she’s implying. Like you’ve done her wrong. Like you’ve been doing her wrong. “What are you even talking about?”

“You got Joe. You got Amir. Shit, when is enough enough for you?” She scoffs, and it’s hard for you to even look at her let alone listen to all the hurtful things she’s spewing. “Like damn, find a new hobby. Focus on raising your kid—”

And that…..that is the moment that you’re no longer confused, or hurt, or saddened to hear your best friend say such awful things. You’re pissed. Cause one thing no one can convince you you’re not, is a good mother. You’ve dedicated your entire life and being to taking care of Callie, making sure she’s straight. That’s always been your priority, and for her to suggest otherwise….those are really fighting words.

You step toward her, finding all of the will in the world not to shatter her jaw. “You and I have so much history. It is the only reason I’m not whooping your ass right now, but know this, Mariah. This was your freebie. Fuck with me again, speak on my child again, and I’ll bash your fucking head into the nearest wall.” It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. “Stay away from me, bitch.”

You don’t give her time to respond or even yourself the chance to lay her out, you instead rush to your car, locking the door and speeding out of the parking lot.

Your knuckles are nearly white with how tightly you’re gripping the steering wheel.

It’s been a while since you’ve been this hot. Years maybe. Amir would piss you off, sure, but never to the extent of your emotions in this moment. It truly took all resolve and imagining Callie’s disappointed face at not being able to see her dad because you got yourself locked up for aggravated assault to keep you from beating Mariah’s ass. She knows better than anyone that you don’t play about your daughter, so for her to include Callie in her mud slinging is not only repugnant but hurtful.

She’s supposed to be Callie’s godmother.

But beyond that, you’re having a hard time reconciling with the rest of the things she was saying. It didn’t feel like something that’s been building up over the past few months. No, this was different. Much…..deeper.

Regardless, you don’t have time to deal with this shit. You need to put your focus on preparing to bring your little girl to see her dad.

Mariah can fuck off.

She’s always been all bark and no bite anyway.

________

“Mommy.”

Callie doesn’t even have to say anything else for you to know a request is to follow.

“What's up, sis?”

She climbs on top of where you lay on the sofa, you and Alexis watching some random dating show she swears up and down is the best thing since Love is Blind. So far, you’re entirely unimpressed. Granted, reality shows of any kind have never been your cup of tea in the first place.

Your YouTube history is mostly crime documentaries and Bloodline videos.

She climbs on top of you, throwing her arms up and shouting, “dance party!”

Of all her typical requests, that’s one you haven’t heard in a while.

You’ve always raised Callie with music, even back when you were pregnant, you would take your Beats and place them on your belly. It’s seemingly worked because this child loves music, so much so that you two would have random “dance party’s” where you’d blast music and dance around, no care in the world, just the two of you.

You haven’t had one in a while, but seeing Callie so happy, a stark contrast from how she’s been is more than enough to get you up and on your feet. You look over at Alexis. “Come on, Lex, it’s dance party time.”

She feigns a gasp, looking at Callie for approval. “Do I get to come to this party?”

Callie giggles and jumps on the sofa. “Of course! Everyone can come to dance party!”

What’s also ironically funny is the fact that you and Alexis used to have dance parties all the time in your dorm, just often with much more explicit Travis Porter, Speaker Knockerz, type music and a lot of ass shaking.

“Well tonight, it’s just the three of us,” you laugh, grabbing your phone and opening your Spotify to figure out what will be your kickoff song. It’s when your eyes land on that one though, you know you’ve found it.

Connecting your phone to your Bluetooth, you confirm the connection and hit play.

We're a thousand miles from comfort, we have traveled land and sea

But as long as you are with me, there's no place I'd rather be

“My favorite white girl song ever!” Alexis shouts, starting to dance with Callie who’s just as excited about your selection. Together, the three of you dance and sing when the iconic chorus hits.

If you gave me a chance I would take it

It's a shot in the dark but I'll make it

Know with all of your heart, you can't shake me

When I am with you, there's no place I'd rather be

At some point, Alexis grabs your phone, recording and capturing the laughter and joy you experience dancing and being silly with your very, very best friend. Callie’s laughter could revive any soul, and it’s so genuine. Even more, you know a large chunk of it is her excitement to see her dad in a couple of days.

And that makes it all the more special.

Eventually needing a break and time to catch your breath, you laugh as the song ends and the next one starts. Lex and Callie immediately go at it for round two, spinning around and dancing to Dance the Night.

You take a second to check your phone, seeing that you have a Snapchat from Joe. Frowning, you open the message confused as to why he’s using that and not just text. He only has the damn app because you made him get it. He’s not very big on social media outside of occasional Instagram posts.

Swiping it open, you see why he was messaging you on there.

Because your wonderful best friend sent him the video she recorded of the three of you dancing.

Joe: How do I save this?

Joe: Fuck it. It’s too confusing. Just send it to me.

Laughing, you chew on your bottom lip and type out a reply.

You: You’re such an old man. 😩

You: But yes, I’ll send it, even if I didn’t know Alexis was recording to send it to you...

You: Callie loves “dance parties” lol

Joe: I love her laugh. She looks so happy…

You: I know. ❤️ She loves music. Def my kid.

You: Skillet is next on the queue, btw. 🙃

Joe: Don’t know what that is, but if I had to take a guess, it’s some rock shit.

You: You know me so well. 😊

Joe: Of course, baby.

Leaving his thread, you realize that if she sent it to Joe, she probably posted it to your private story as well, which is fine. You only have people on there you know and trust to keep the contents within that space.

But, it’s in checking the views that you see Mariah not only watched but screen recorded your story. It’s strange, normally you wouldn’t think twice about it. She’s always screenshotted and screen recorded stuff you posted, and you did the same with Micah.

But now…..

Now, it feels wrong to share these moments with her. She’s lost that privilege.

Moving to your contacts, you ignore her old Snapchat name she never uses anymore and instead just block her primary one from seeing your stories, and that includes close friends. And interestingly enough, when you check your texts, you see one from her muted thread that momentarily causes you to pause.

Mariah: Kinda stupid to ice out the one person who knows everything about you.

But the pause comes and goes, Mariah always says shit, and that’s where it stops, the saying. She’s always been the mouse of you two, and that shit ain’t changed.

Closing up the app, you switch back to Spotify and focus on what’s before you and not behind you.

You have all the people you need in your life.

Mariah can fuck off.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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st4rbe0m · 4 months ago

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𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ KISS THE GIRL - PSH

🫧 now playing - kiss the girl from disney’s The Little Mermaid 🫧 contents - the little mermaid au, no gendered implications but the word 'maiden' is used, implied kissing 🫧 wc - 0.9K 🫧 a/n - i hope this compensates for the lack of body search updates recently :( i need to structure that story out a bit more, so it'll be a while. might make a mini series out of this however teehee >.<

masterlist

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, My oh my Look like the boy too shy Ain't gonna kiss the girl

The blue luminescence of the algae around them, surrounding the boat in a surreal bubble, made the breath in Sunghoon’s throat hitch in awe. You were right in front of him, hands on the pair of paddles opposite to his own, making no move of their own, as your eyes blown wide in awe of scenery peered around. The way the drooping willow branches of the cove swayed in an almost rhythm like manner, creating a music of its own. The fish seemed almost animated as they playfully swam along the quivering currents of the water, the boat stalled and rocking almost like a crib, gently. The reeds whistled, adding the percussion to the music of the ocean, while the crabs and the seagulls perched along the rocks of the shallow alcove seemed to scuttle along, adding a tapping beat to the environment. Almost like this endeavor was planned. Almost.

Sunghoon doesn’t really register how quickly this stranger, whom he’d found on the beach with no voice of your own, and almost seemingly no knowledge of his importance or his duties, had easily slid into his life, like the puzzle piece he’d been missing ever since he went aboard his ship on his birthday. The day he was knocked off the very vessel, and only had an angelic voice and a fleeting memory saving him from being pulled under by the unforgiving waves of the sea.

The boat was swaying gently in the water as you both rocked along with it, eyes swallowing in all the beauty of the escape Sunghoon had found during his lonesome adventures to escape from princely duties. A hidden cave, with a shallow pool of water and a welcoming alcove hiding the both of you away from prying eyes. After all, the rumors and gossip about town would multiply with a frenzy, if any citizen were to come across the adoration on the face of their beloved prince, as he gazed upon this strange maiden. The mood around them was so tender, so fragile and so, so beautiful. Yet to Sunghoon, the only beauty he could focus on was the one right in front of him, only on the way your head was tilted up and looking around, like you were seeing everything that existed above the land for the first time ever in your life. The way your lips parted softly and exhaled a soft sigh of satisfaction, like a thirst to see everything was being quenched slowly. And how soft your lips looked, glowing under the moonlight that entered through the cracks above. The plump curve of your cupid’s bow, and the dip of white where your teeth bit into your lower lip in fascination.

If the ambience wasn’t already perfect, the buzzing of the fireflies, that illuminated the air around you both with their bright, yellow glow just made your heart leap in joy, and the smile that grew on your face made Sunghoon’s heart flip in his own chest, like the marine creatures surrounding you both, almost like they’d choreographed their own dance to celebrate the union of you both. The frogs that sat with their little webbed legs stuck on to the paddles of your boat, and the wonderful, colorful fish, creating a haze of flurried colors under the dark water. It was all absolutely delightful, as you both chuckled at the behavior of all the animals around you. One of the frogs on the paddle decided to leap in a move of its own, elegantly diving into the water with a plop. But as graceful as the move was, it ended up with a small splash of water ungracefully landing on Sunghoon’s cheek, which made you giggle in amusement. Bringing the fabric of your sleeve to your palm and shifting close to wipe the cold water off his face, your eyes met the warmth in his brown ones, making you fall harder for the enigmatic and handsome prince. The human you’d found yourself to be so captivated by. Prince Park Sunghoon, royal heir to the throne of the island country, Telmarina.

Sunghoon’s heartbeat was thundering in his ears due to the proximity between the two of you, and if he didn’t already feel that magnetic pull that was urging him to push his lips onto yours, the urge just got stronger as he looked at all your features with such intensity, as to almost memorize them. You could feel his shortening breath on your face now, which just created a chain reaction to your own flusteredness. His eyes, which were settled on yours, hesitatingly shifted, and then dipped to your lips. And it seemed that you did too, as the pink tinge of his lips seemed to call you like a siren. Leaning in slowly, almost gravely, both of you inhaled as your lips almost touched to fulfill what you both had been yearning for this entire time.

That was until the solid wooden flooring of the boat under both of you seemed to disappear, leaving you both plunging into the cold water of the lagoon, icing the blood in your veins and leaving you both in a shocked state, floating in the water. Laughing at the state of both of you, the kiss that almost happened seemed to slowly leave both of your minds, and Sunghoon swore that if you listened close enough, you could hear some sort of disappointed groan coming from the rock where the crab and seagull sat. And holding out his hand for you to take as you both swam up to land, you both almost ignored the dark slithering eels that swam away silently from the scene, ready to report to their masters of the success of their devious plans.

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skittlespizza · 1 year ago

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If fear and hunger guys had tumblr:

💰 veteran-funger Follow

Hey! Did you know the dungeons of Fear and Hunger have treasure in them! For the low price of 50 gold, I'll sell you a treasure map. Dm me on discord thanks.

🗡 cumhara Follow

@celeste-on-hiatus I'll be back in a few weeks! Love you!

🍇 celeste-on-hiatus Follow

What.

🏹 legarde-hater Follow

I fucking hate le'garde. He keeps on having holy crusades for "Alll-mer" or something. MY WIFE AND CHILD DIED. I hate him so much. I want him dead. Sorry for the vent. It's been a tough week. I am going to track him down and kill him with my bare hands.

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Le'garde isn't that bad. Calm down, the crusades had a purpose. Stop being parasocial about a guy you don't even know? Sorry about your wife but you gotta get over it. You're a full grown man.

🏹 legarde-hater Follow

I added "Le'garde apologists" to my DNI, leave me alone freak. Go and kiss Le'garde's ass somewhere else.

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

I will! You know, they say Le'garde is in the Dungeons of Fear and Hunger?! Yeah. I'm going there. Fuck you. I'll save his ass and send you pics of us together.

🏹 legarde-hater Follow

Hey guys I'll be at the dungeons of fear and hunger for a bit.

🏹 legarde-hater Follow

Hey do you guys like my dog?

💀 old-night Follow

That ain't a dog. It has twice the amount of eyes??

🏹 legarde-hater Follow

Her name is moonless <3

🗡 cumhara Follow

@celeste-on-hiatus how do we feel about another kid?

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

On the way to save my cutesy bf! Wish me luck!

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Found some people in a cave.. gonna talk to them. Maybe they'd like to hear about alll-mer. I don't think they've left this cave before :)!

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Um.. they did not like alll-mer. In other words, a blue haired guy and a small girl saved me! Wish us luck. And yes guys, i do love legarde. Idk what "comphet" is? Sorry. Is that an old god? I read about that in a book.

🌚 rher Follow

Comphet is an old god, yeah. He's the old god of denial.

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Oh thanks!

♟️ enki-ankarian Follow

Today I almost died as a sacrifice. Though, I stopped it because I had a vision. Apparently something inside the dungeons of Fear and Hunger is waiting for me. I'll update my blog as I continue on.

♟️ enki-ankarian Follow

I hear screaming. Dogs barking and a man crying. I'm reading.

♟️ enki-ankarian Follow

Something broke through the wall. I'm reading. Lots of information to bring back.

♟️ enki-ankarian Follow

Can't get fucking quiet in this dungeon. Gonna have to leave this library and find a new one. People are so inconsiderate sometimes.

⚔️ legarde ✅️✅️ Follow

Day one dungeons of fear and hunger. They gave me rotten flesh as food. Not befitting for a man such as I.

⚔️ legarde ✅️✅️ Follow

Day two, dungeons of fear and hunger. They chained me up and this rather large man has been watching me. Help?

⚔️ legarde ✅️✅️ Follow

I hear footsteps. Maybe someone's coming to save me!

⚔️ legarde ✅️✅️ Follow

I think the guard died.

🏹 legarde-hater Follow

I lived bitch.

🗡 cumhara Follow

Well I left the dungeons. No treasure but I got a kid I guess.

♟️ enki-ankarian Follow

Still reading.

🔮 nosramus-blogs Follow

Still reading.

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

How to do necromancy

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Why doesn't he love me

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

What is a "lesbian"

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Why do i like when i see girls kissing

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Le'garde is dead.

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Leaving dungeons now. I didn't save le'garde but i found out i was a lesbian.

#fear and hunger #enki #enki ankarian #cahara #nosramus #le'garde #d'arce #ragnvaldr

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knightyoomyoui · 9 months ago

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TWICE Sana x M/F Reader - "I Want It That Way"

I'M BACK. After 3 months of no update, your one and only Knight Yoo-Myoui returns to bring you readers more stories in my book. Author's been in a really tough situation especially last month, but that still ain't gonna be enough to take out my passion and motivation to continue writing for both mine and your entertainment. I'm gonna continue this as long as I can. However, from now on; please understand and expect that I won't be updating very often like weekly or everyday as before. Studies is my current priority as of the moment but I promise that I will always update yall. Actually though, this new kind of pacing for both my writing procedure and publishing has somehow lessen the pressure in me. I'm really liking it so far, makes me comfortable. This story is requested by ShaShaSha029 BUT..., sorry Sha because I made some changes on your requested plot hehe. I already made the same concept from my previous works so I used your other request from another member to come up with something new that I haven't done yet. And as for the other member you requested to me, I'll give you a brand new plot for her. I hope you and the readers will like this. Enjoy reading! STREAM "I GOT YOU" and "ONE SPARK" MVs btw!

"I'm going home, guys. I'll leave the office to you all."

YN/LN, a current 4th year student from Cheongnamdong Polytechnic University and the campus' ongoing president of the student council, has just finished your tasks for today and is now about to depart from their office and send your goodbyes to your fellow members kindly to end the day on a positive note.

"Be safe on your way home, Pres!"

"You too."

You continued walking after sending him all the bright greetings, but before passing to your own cubicle and reaching the door, it opened. You then heard some footsteps behind it until a familiar figure made its presence known in front of you.

You watched your classmate, friend, and the secretary of their council, Yoo Janghoon, peeking at the door with a weird smile before you find him standing on your way.

Janghoon then approached YN.

"Seems like you're about to leave."

"Yeah." You nodded. " What's with your smile in your face? You look like you just saw something amusing.", he said in a judgmental look.

"Not with my own eyes, but the words I've heard are enough to picture her on mind." Janghoon smirked and bounced his brows.

"Her? You're into hunting chicks again?"

"Idiot, I have a girlfriend now, ofcourse I'm not." Janghoon mocked YN as he was about to throw a punch. "But seriously though, not even me could deny that it really does interest me."

"Why, what's going on out there?"

"Well, I've heard from my acquaintances from the other courses that there's a newly transferred female student here in the campus earlier after the class break."

"That late?"

"Yeah, I was a bit confused too but they said the professor just let it passed because they said that her documents were finalized at the last minute so that's why." YN hummed to react.

"And would you like to enlighten me what's so interesting with this random transferee student? I mean, no offense. Welcome aboard to the university but... what's special?"

"Dude, I'm telling you, it's not just "random", this girl was a legit bombshell. Based from how they described her, it was like when she stepped on the room, they felt like there was a legit goddess that got manifested into reality."

"And that's it?"

"Y-yeah... but you know and I know, dude. Our university has been missing it's "queen" for quite some time now. And probably the students are making noise about it is because they see a huge potential on her."

"Okay. Well, I do hope she doesn't feel overwhelmed with the attention she's about to receive on the next days of her stay here."

"But we're here as the council officers to take control, right?"

"Exactly." you nodded. "Anyways, gotta go now. I still have a family dinner not to miss."

"Alright, take care pres."

"You too, sec."

You left the office and the campus with a curiosity forming in your heart and mind on the identity of this woman that has been the center of the gossips you were unaware of due to how busy you are on the duties.

Arrived at home, you entered and got welcomed by your mother who is preparing their table for a lovely dinner tonight while your father is busy watching basketball on the living room.

"Good evening, mom."

"Good eve, YN. Tired?", she said while placing the plates on the table.

"Not that much but I would be glad to rest as always.", you spoke with a timid smile.

"Perfect, meal's coming right up real soon. Join your father there, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, mom."

You walked near to your father and greeted him courteously. You sat beside him and laid your back comfortably on the soft cushion of the couch to release all the pent-up exhaustion your body has consumed on today's packed class schedule.

Minutes later, your mother commands both you and your father to position yourselves on the seats. Each grabbing their own meal, all of you started praying first before taking your first bites and swallow on such a delicious food.

"Uhm, dear. We want to talk to you about something." Your mother inserted a topic to be discussed.

"Sure, mom. I'll be listening. What is it about?"

"It's like a business talk but this also concerns about your personal life too, YN which we much rather prioritize." Your father said after swallowing his throat. "We meet up with our partners on the company regarding this and we all come to an agreement."

"Agreement to what?"

"Me and your mother are placing you in an arrangement contract with their child."

"Wait, come again?"

"Arrangement contract. It means we set you up with someone as your age to date and marry one day, and we figured out that to strengthen the connection between us, we decided to-"

"Yes, wait. I know that part, dad but... why need to? Wasn't it too early? I get that you want me to have a wife and a family someday but... it's not one of my priorities so far.", you complained.

"YN, please do understand that your mother and I ain't be getting younger as time goes on. Someday, you'll be alone, and we just wanted to give you another family that you would be glad to remain and... hopefully, to remember us like how we raised you from the beginning."

"But wasn't this too fast? You're making me rush things."

Both sides went silent, as the father felt guilty also for how true your words are.

"It's my life. You may be the one who gave me that but I developed and earned a right to decide what's right for my future."

"We know, son... but we had no choice. It's for the sake also of our business. You know that we have to keep it to the mountain top so that we don't have our efforts of raising it go to waste, especially when this is the main reason how me and your mother were able to give you a better life that you deserve. And some way or another, you will be for sure, the one who will take the mantle and own my properties. You can use it also to raise your family easier."

"We are not forcing you to do this, YN. Please, we just wanted to inform you and talk about this because you also have a side and opinion to be heard. Whatever your answer may be, we will respect it. We are just suggesting, but hopefully you can consider it, honey." Your mother's soft voice effectively kept you at ease more.

Taking deep breaths and a short length of silence to contemplate, you looked at them both as you made your choice. "Fine. This is because I love you both and I owe you two everything. I'm doing it."

They both smiled in relief. "Thank you for this, son/daughter."

"No problem. So... can you tell me more about this contract?"

"Well it's simple, an arranged contract but we requested to have you and the girl we chose to spend 30-days or let's say a month to get to know each other and figure things out if you two would believe that everything will work out as a couple." Your father explained.

"And who's the girl that you guys have prepared for me?"

"They have an only child just like us, and it's an easier idea to place her because as we learned, their daughter is currenly in search of finding somebody to love."

"Sadly, we're unalike."

"But she may be able to change your mind, on whatever that hold your heart back. You accepted the offer, now you just have to see how she really is, but we're certainly sure that she's good just like her parents."

"And what's her name?"

"We haven't been introduced nor asked for her name, but from what we know, her nickname should be "Minatozaki", and is Japanese. She was also studying now at the same campus as yours."

"I'll try to look for her and maybe we can talk there privately."

"Whatever you want, YN. Just keep us updated okay?"

"Noted." You replied before everyone returned on focusing to finish their foods.

The next day, you were a bit irritated from how the discussion last night distracts you in the middle of your duty. You couldn't concentrate at the curiousity that dwells inside of you.

So you decided to to take a break outside. You encountered a vacant spot to breathe some fresh air and drink at the iced coffee you prepared on your tumbler as you roam your eyes around at your surroundings.

That's where you spotted some group of students huddling around at a spot near the bulletin board, as if they're being crazy or attentive at something.

Eager to find out the rucus, you approached the scenario and tried to peek around, and there you noticed a female student entertaining the other fellow students by asking her randomly and even asking for some pictures like she is a celebrity.

As she turned around, her long chestnut colored hair flips around as if it denied the gravity, her side profile appeared, until it all fully rotated to have her face evident at you for the first time.

And my oh my the rumors shared by your secretary were true.

No wonder why she was already popular, she does look magnificent, enough to be mistaken as a famous personality.

Your eyes couldn't leave the sight of her just doing everything even in such bare minimum if movements that still effortlessly made her very attractive. Thankfully, there's your boy distracting you as you snapped back when you felt a shoulder wrapped on your neck.

"You finally met her." Janghoon said, smirking at you. "From what I heard earlier, the exchange student's name's Minatozaki Sana. She's a foreigner, a Japanese to be specific."

"Minatozaki?" Your thoughts murmured. Contemplating if you heard it right, but that was the same surname your father was tasked you to find, and she even has the same nationality.

Having exchange students in your campus are very rare.

You are flabbergasted as you slowly realize that... this woman is going to be the one you'll date and marry.

Unconsciously, you turned around at Janghoon with your forehead crumpled and mouth slightly gaped.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

"Oh n-no. Not-thing." You shook your head swiftly. Returning your gaze back at her, you couldn't believe it at all that your parents and her friends does picked a perfect girl for you.

But you wondered if it could be said the same about you.

Hours later, Sana who was about to enjoy her recess, instead went to the council office to meet the president, as per the classmates told her after being tasked to do so.

She stepped in front of the door that says "Student Council Office, knock twice before entering". She followed and slowly pushed the doorknob. A person sitting at the far end of the room, looking busy on his desk greeted her.

As the door closed, it alarmed the president that the person is now here for a scheduled conversation, only that when you raised your head, you looked at her having a shocked reaction.

Sana stares at the reveal of this mysterious person that runs the entire student government of the campus. Flashbacks began to run back into her mind, slowly making her upset.

"Thank you for agreeing to come here and t-"

"Am I looking at this very clearly?" Sana immediately spoke.

"Pardon?"

"You? Out of everyone here... was chosen to become a leader?"

"W-what? Settle down, miss. I think you n-"

"A representative figure for everyone, and I get to be under your orders around here?" Sana chuckled bitterly. "I didn't know that even after years later, we'll still have our paths crossing onto each other despite how I wanted to never meet you in my life again."

"D-do we know each other?"

Sana scoffed as she looked at you ridiculously. "Ofcourse, how could you recognize me. First of all, I was just a complete nothing to you. A plaything of your cruel antics and delinquent actions. And second, I'm not the same girl you used to belittle everyday."

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at her intently. "W-what... you..."

"Still doesn't ring a bell? Oh, how about this. The name Minatozaki Sana? That fat nerdy girl back in elementary that you used to bully so hard in our 8th year that forced her to transfer to other school. How about that?"

Your eyes sprung open as you instantly remember the name and that student you used to include in one of your prime victims in your dark past.

That description of her past self brought you back to the times when you remembered looking for her first to rather mock, annoy, or play with her until her feelings broke and look helpless.

You were a bully before in elementary days, and she was your classmate back then. But that was all only the past now as you are now a changed person, with all the better and positive things that came into your life had taught you more valuable and nice things to consider yourself reevaluating your personality.

But it looks like it could tell the opposite for Sana's part.

"I remember you now, Sana. And... please, let me tell you right now that I'm not the same person you used to despise before."

"Do you really think I'll be fooled easily by that?" Sana retorted. "We just met after what... 7 years and you're supposed to have me believing that when in fact, I still look at you as that same horrific figure I never should've want to see again, but yet here you are."

Sana still didn't took a seat. She walked around and observed the room. You were a bit relieved that all of your council members are absent in this tense confrontation. "What a hypocrisy it is to have you getting involved in an organization that focuses on student rights when in fact, you have a record of violating it before. Shouldn't be a student fitting for that must be... clean?"

"Sana, believe me or not, I changed. I wouldn't even dare to take this position if I'm not sincere for it, and I'm not forcing you to believe me."

"Oh, ofcourse you should. Because I really don't buy everything that comes into your mind not until I see it" Sana shook her head and smugged. "Maybe it'll change my mind of me planning to expose you from every-"

"Wait! You can't be serious?"

"Oh indeed I am." Sana clicked her tongue. "You ruined me before, but here I am who helped myself and from people I loved to become this better version of mine to stand here in front of you, I'm going to get you this time, YN. I'm going to make you feel what is it like being... excluded."

She leaned forward on the desk, staring at you sharply and observing your nervous expression. "But...if there's some sort of a miracle that... you did changed. Then you're going to prove it on me. Make me convinced that this YN I hate with every fiber of my being is... gone."

"What if I tell you that you already have a chance to make me?"

"And that is?"

"Have you heard about an arrangement contract from your parents?"

"Y-yeah... but they don't tell me who it is because- WAIT" Sana quickly lunged back away from you. "Please tell me who I'm thinking is correct."

"Sorry to tell you but I was just in denial as you are yesterday."

"Oh God." Sana poured out the biggest disappointment she felt in her entire life so far. "W-why does my fate has to be very unlucky everytime when it's about you? Me being in an arranged contract with you? I think I have to vomit."

"Wait! But you said you want me to prove that I changed?"

"And you really think I want it this way?" Sana looked at you disgusted. "Being as this fabled student council president or just a random student from me would be fine but... YOU AS MY FIANCE? That won't do, mister." Sana swayed her pointing finger. "Unfortunately, the answer would be NO. Now please, I have to go already. I still have a lunch to take before I lose my appetite."

Sana walked away from you and left the room unbotheredly. You sat there, back falling flat on your swivel chair. Your hands caressed your hair as you reacted unbelievably and stunned that this heavily improved Sana that you used to know many years before has returned to actually be your woman, but unfortunately, her hatred for you still lives on her till this day.

Her opposal didn't worked however, as Sana tried to request later during dinner, she was informed by her parents that the contract can only be cancelled after 30-days for the people to finally reassure their decision.

She mentioned that YN and her have a bad history in the past, but instead her parents reasoned out that maybe YN has changed and it will not hurt to give another chance. If only they know what the real reason it is, but Sana was clearly affected by their suggestion because honestly, Sana is a forgiving soft type of person.

Still, confident that she's satisfied with her answer, she became impatient and hated being with YN more.

Meanwhile, you shared to your mother about how the unlikedness of you and Sana's interests about the marriage arrangement in a deatiled manner.

"We met and had a talk, but... it wasn't as proper and civil as I expected because, I was surprised that she confessed something very familiar to me. Something that I've been trying to get it out on my head. Something that I wanted to let go for a long time."

"What was she to you before?"

"A nuisance, even though she wasn't doing even wrong. I look at her before thinking it wasn't right for her to be in this type of high class campus that I study at too, but then I figured out that me ending up bullying and making her emotional and mental state suffer is way worse than she is."

You flinched when your mother slapped you in the head. "What??? How could you bully someone?! Is that how we raised you?"

"Mom, wait ofcourse no... but, I was just made to be like that because of what happened to us, you know that!"

Your mother became speechless and a glimpse of pity became visible to you. "But it's all good now, mom. I'm not like that anymore, I'm telling you. And that's what I should've just wanted to prove to Sana but... I understand that she won't let me anymore. I broke her too much, I can't let it happen again."

Stepping closer in front of you, she placed her hands gently on your shoulders to massage them and make your ease down. "Even I was mad and disappointed that you once turned into that type of guy you never should be, but I know from the bottom of my heart that you will always be a good kid of mine because that's how I raised you to be. You just got affected too much by our struggles before. And I believe you always, YN. The only thing I can do now for you to support you, and that is for you to keep on moving forward and never stop to make Sana forgive you, alright?"

"I will. Thanks, mom."

She patted you on the cheek. "Goodluck, okay? You have a month to do it."

----------

"Okay, class dismissed. Group 1, remember to prepare your report by next week okay?"

"Yes, prof!", the students who are part of the group that the professor mentioned chanted.

The professor left the room, leaving the students have the freedom to eat lunch during their vacant time.

"Sana, cmon! Did you bring a lunch with you?", one of Sana's classmates asked her while she's clearing her table.

"No, I'm gonna buy for today."

"Nice, let's go!"

Sana brought her wallet and cellphone with her, joins her newfound friends named Miyeon and Sullyoon as they make their way out to the classroom.

However, as they were about to, a figure suddenly pops out of the doorway, stopping their tracks. The two classmates of hers had a visible shock in their faces unlike to Sana, her bright mood quickly shrank down into a gloomy one.

"Hi, sorry if I'm almost late." You straightened your lips. "Good thing I was about to catch you leaving yet, let's go eat lunch together."

Miyeon and Sullyoon's jaw dropped at the student council president's proposal. Sana's eyebrows knitted hardly. "Huh? What nonsense are you saying?"

"Why? I'm just going to invite you to eat with me?"

"With you?" Sana scoffed and chuckled. "You have the guts, I'll give you that... but NO." Sana leaned forward at you to say this.

"Let's go girls."

Sana was just commanding her classmates and taking a step again away from you but in her surprise, she felt her body being pulled by a force. She tried to process what happened, and there she found her skin contacting with yours as she stood by your side...

with your hands wrapped around her waist.

Miyeon and Sullyoon's eyes largened in utter shock at what they're seeing. They couldn't believe that such a new transferee would get to gain closeness and change the behavior of the famously respected and knowned leader of the students around the campus.

Sana's lungs skipped functioning as soon as she felt your fingers dug deeper into her skin. Her face then starts to turn red and her face showing almost hilariously stunned reaction, with no hint of an idea what has turned you to be like this today.

"Pardon me for Sana's antics right now, we just had a fight yesterday and I wanted to come up a solution to fix that." You said in a melodic and apologetic tone to them. Sana was dumbfounded at the ridiculous fake words you are talking about.

"W-wha"

Sana wasn't able to finish her words, when she felt herself getting pulled again, now squeezed against your body which intensified her heartbeat and blushes.

"So, please. Can we eat together today, love?"

Any words that are synonym to what I mentioned earlier can be heavily applied now to all three women witnessing the sudden change of the president's act.

You led the way, bringing Sana with you as both crossed the hallway with the confused and flabbergasted duo following on the back while some of the students can see the two having this kind of contact has began to grab attention.

As they reached the cafeteria, Miyeon and Sullyoon shyly approached the "couple". "Uhm, Sana. I think we can just eat sometime. We'll let you have you two your private time okay?"

"B-but w-"

"Thank you for being considerate on us, girls." You smiled humbly at them and they nodded before they left you and Sana to find their own seat. As the two of you remained, Sana's face crumpled and seethed much air to unleash her full force on escaping to your touch.

She quickly unhooks your arm on her waist, pushed you aside, and punched you in the shoulder. "Oww!"

"Seriously, what the hell did you do to me, YN?!" Sana started to bicker out on you. "How come you just started to spit out and let my friends hear and see you assuming that we have a relationship now, huh?! Did you ate something bad that had you acting like crazy today?"

"Nope. I'm perfectly fine, and what I did there earlier, consider getting used to that." You replied. "Because from now on, I'll be going to do it with you again and again and again a-"

"Woah wait no what?!" Sana paused you. "And why is that, huh? I haven't even agreed yet on the deal-"

"But was the contract got cancelled?"

Sana fell speechless. She remembered yesterday that she swore to dump the contract by requesting to her parents after she gave her disapproval. However, she failed to do so.

You took her silence as yes. "I suppose it didn't. If it does, my parents would've informed me immediately."

"Yeah yeah yeah, you won. So what? You still can't just do it like that to me randomly. I still haven't gave you the consent to touch me or do anything lovey dovey around me. Just because the contract states that we are arranged to be a couple that doesn't mean I can let you easily do everything free around me. Especially when the fact that I still hate you so much." Sana pointed at you as she stares deeply within you.

"Alright, fine. You do have a point. I shouldn't have done it. It's my fault, I made you uncomfortable, and I'm sorry for that." You spoke in a calm tone. Sana got her insides tugged at your sudden softer behavior. "But just know this, I hope you can let me do these with everything I can. No matter how much you deny, we are still stuck in an arranged contract that has a month allowed on us to come up on a decision if we'll take a marriage, and that gives each of us the right to do what couples does.

And I'm going to use it also, for me to prove myself to you that I've changed through all these years, Sana. Consider it me acting or say whatever you want, but when it comes to you, I'll show my improved self and nothing less than that." You said plainly to her. Sana is just listening at you patiently, sticking out important details to her mind while her emotions were a bit being brought by your committed words.

"I can't force you to love me back and have our marriage settled someday after the deadline comes, I wasn't even into love these days but I had no choice but to follow. But, I really do hope that before or when these all ends, I can hear you saying that I am now forgiven."

Sana was struggling to come up for a words to answer, and you took the opportunity to let her have time to remember and process everything as you locate a seat and bought foods for both of you. You left the still pissed off Sana became completely silent and come back to join her in an awkward lunch together.

That went on and on, with you trying to get along with Sana through most of the occasions. You supposed to take it all as a yes coming from Sana that you were being a chance to prove everything to her that you are not this same bad person she used to resist before.

With your frequent actions around Sana led to the campus knowing also about your rumored relationship with her.. Some were supportive that the president finally get to have a girlfriend such perfect as Sana while some were not due to the reason of jealousy most concerning about the fact that they are not the ones standing on the shoes or position of either you or Sana.

That didn't affected both of you, especially Sana who is trying her best to become unbothered with all of these because she is too tired to explain it to many people for some truth that everyone wouldn't accept easily. She knows it all to herself anyway that it's all part of the act, that none of them are interested with each other or has a growing fond being developed.

Not until one day, she accidentally finds you tutoring a female student in the library. She saw how entertained you are on how easily the girl gets to understand quickly with your teaching, thus turning you both looking happy together.

Feeling a bit uncomfortable at the scene, her lips unconsciously forming into a frown. Sana instead leaves the room and went on to return with her friends who noticed her bad mood as she buried her head around her crossed arms on the desk.

It all procceeded until their next subject when the girls tried to approach her about it. "Hey, Sana what's with the grumpy look?" Miyeon said as she peeked at Sana who looks completely out.

"You weren't participating with us lightly, what happened when you left the room earlier?" Sullyoon added.

"Yeah, you seemed in a no good mood."

"Nothing." Sana blabbered.

"Was it YN?"

"I said NOTH-" Sana paused and realized that she just made herself obvious, Miyeon and Sullyoon were just staring at her.

"Welp, that confirms it." Sana sighed. "Care to tell us what's the problem?"

She remained silent. She wasn't sure why she's getting a bit embarassed to reveal it until she also got nervous when her friends began to list down some of the possible things a couple creates problems.

"Was he cold to you today?"

"Hmm maybe you're the one who's not?"

"Or... could it be somebody's jealous-"

"What, no?!" Sana rapidly reacted. Miyeon and Sullyoon exchanged a "gotcha" look.

"Oh unnie, you're too obvious." Miyeon laughed.

"Jealous of what? Or should we say, who?" Sullyoon curiously asked.

"S-stop! I said it's nothing, okay! There's no chance in hell that I am jealous because of him." Sana made a "tch" sound on her mouth. "I don't even like him at all." She rolled her eyes as she whispered it, barely to be heard by her friends who returned focusing on their own. As she was left alone with her trouble, her eyes went staring at the window, she sighed deeply as she felt a strange regret inside her after saying those words while remembering what she saw back in the library.

As if she meant it.

Hours later, Sana bids goodbye to Miyeon and Sullyoon before she walked at the hallway all by herself. She stopped on her steps when she felt this unsettling feeling near her shoulder.

Her head goes turning around, searching for something but was unsuccessfully. Sana sighed and shook her head. "YN isn't coming. That guy/girl is a student council president, Sana. He/she's probably busy." she muttered to herself.

Sana continued to move, with a blank face and a moderate speed. As the afternoon light about to engulf her, she felt her sling bag slowly float, the weight she's carrying quickly became lighter.

Her breath got taken away shortly in surprise until she realized what caught her from that action.

It was you, smiling while standing beside her as you taking off her bag gently from her shoulder.

"May I?"

Sana didn't respond, she just let her arm spread a bit to let the strap fall, easily allowing it to fall from your posession.

"You do look like having a bad day." you peeked at her expression. Sana slightly got shy, and turns her face away as she pouted while rolling her eyes arrogantly.

"You just noticed? I'm always like this whenever you're around me."

"You sure there's nothing more than that? I know it's pretty much of a 'me' problem but... can you be more specific?"

"Oh come on, wasn't that enough for you? Stop triggering me, please. I said what I said, you are an eyesore that's why." Sana crosses her arm. She started to walk down the stairs as you slowly followed her with a faint smile on your lips.

"Okay, if that's what you say. I'll just be here behind you. Too bad, I wanted to lead the way because I want take us somewhere unwinding first." You sighed and tightened your lips. Sana heard it, sensing a weird sensation through her. She must be saying no or even meaner than that, but how come she became more curious?

Sana heaved out a large breath of air before pausing on her walk with a stomp. She turned around to face you as she gestures you to come forward. "It's only because I needed it."

And you grinned thankfully.

The two of you went to a cliff from a road outside of Seoul. Just in time, Sana was about to whine about how dangerous this place you chose until she was distracted of the magnificent sunset in display to the skyview.

Each of you took a picture, with her being first. You clicked the button, instead the shot accidentally captures Sana turning her attention back at you. As she approaches you, you dragged down your phone in embarassment and nervousness that she might found out and suspect that you're secretly spying on her.

"What happened to you?" Sana finds your tensed manner.

"N-nothing. I just... remembered something."

"Weirdo." She teases you. "So what's gotten into you choosing this place. Are you gonna push me there down the cliff to show me your true colors?"

You looked at her exhaustedly, no much in an energy to enlighten or defend yourself. "Say or think of anything suspicious about me, Sana but I wasn't even harming you even in my imaginations anymore." You didn't bother to look at her because all you'll see rather is an irritated, sassy woman whom you had a price to pay for.

"This is my favorite place to chill." You simply answered, leaning at the front of the car and posing your limbs as you supported yourself with your arms pressed on the car. Sana looked at your side-figure.

"I started finding this when me and my mom used to go here when I was young. She was the first one to notice how beautiful the sunset is to watch from here, and I did agree on her... and it turns out to become one of my favorite scenery." Sana just listened to your story as you continue to witness the sun hides from the clouds.

"My mother told me to stay with her longer here because for a moment, she found peace and serenity. She felt like there's nothing to worry about." You paused as you smiled proudly. "She felt like she wasn't going to be alone in this battle she's facing, because I was there by her side. Even though I... wasn't that too much vocal or expressive at what I've gone through in our family, but... my heart knows where I need to stay. Where I can surely find a better outcome for my life someday."

"That's why when the right thing happened one day, I started to listen and follow to my heart first. I kicked out all those delinquent students away from my company and I only remained my wonderful mom and dad... step-dad..." You corrected yourself, Sana shrank her eyes at that intentional pause. "Because it felt like it's the right thing to do, and it did. It helped me to get back up to my feet and reshape myself to become a proper man that my mom always wanted to see in me.

Sana, mind I if ask... am I progressing?"

Sana stares at you as you glanced at her with your glistening eyes full of hope. "I'm not gonna lie this time, but you sure are doing quite an effect on me..." Her voice is slowly decreasing through the words.

"But that won't still change anything about what you did to me before. People can say past is past easily but me? If it wasn't for that, which I don't know... should I say thank you atleast anyway... for motivating me to change my appearance? Lose a massive amount of weight, beautify myself more, get rid of those eyeglasses and braces just so that I can be accepted and liked by many for my features like what you said?" Sana said with a bit of a hatred rising through her again. You remain speechless as you understand why it's driving her mad.

"I achieved a better life too but unlike you, what I did I get? You put me into a trauma that I'm still bringing to myself till this day. Fear and anxious that... makes me still remember it all."

"I like the passion, YN... but I will never going to forgive you for what you did to me. I will always hate you for that." Sana said it with all honesty. "And that's enough of a reason for me to have no interests on having our deal contract settled."

Heartbroken, you chose to ignore and hide as you have nothing more to do than to accepts her decision. After all, you were the one who already said that you can't force her to make amends with you.

"Understood."

The next week, Sana was about to go downstairs when she found a student sipping lollipop at the corner. The guy looks completely wasted, obviously breaking the proper uniform rules. She decided to ignore him as she continue to go through but insteas, the guy catcalled her before moving on its own, approaching Sana.

"Hi there, hot stuff." The guy said before taking off her lollipop with a slurp. "Where you going at?"

"A-at my class." Sana nervously said.

"Hmmm... okay. Nice and proper, I like it. Ladies like you are easy to be tamed, isn't it?" He smirked menacingly.

Sana stepped back and grabbed her sling bag. "E-excuse me? How dare you-"

"Ohhh, daring. Such a duality we got here huh, I wouldn't mind if you can do switch roles with me, however we can only apply that in the bed."

"Shut up, pervert!"

"Cmon, lady. It's that simply, feel free to take a shot on me, and you can be there to your classroom without a problem."

"And if I don't?!"

"Challenging and fightful, I like that."

"Then you're going to love me."

Sana and the delinquent both became surprised as you made your unexpected emergence from the stairs, hurrying down ss you pushed away the guy and had him bumping his back on the barred metal gate.

"This one's pestering you?" Sana only nodded.

"Ugh shit! Ah, look. It's the bastard of this goddamn student council!" The delinquent said while touching his upper back in pain.

"Choose your words more carefully. I can report you and have you be placed in a sanction that you'll regret."

"Go on, make me. As if I give a shit. This entire university is a complete bullshit anyway. The only reason it got me staying here everyday, is if wasn't for some sexy chicks like here roaming around-" The deliquent didn't had to speak disrespectfully and point at Sana longer as he ate a crunchy right punch from you straight to his face.

"You crazy bitch!"

The guy fights back at you, returning the punch you gave. It agitated you and led yourselves into a brawl that had the groans and growls echoing to the upper floor, catching student's attention. Sana panicked and tasked them to call a guard to seperate the two.

The guy got the advantage during the fight, he continues to give you a barrage of kicks to the waist before he pulled Sana closer to her and inappropriately traced her sides while he chuckles dangerously.

Sana felt disgusted and quickly slaps the guy. "What do you think you're doing, huh? Fucking slut!" He gave Sana a fast backhand slap that had her twirling and crashing next to the metal handles of the stairs.)+•~

You saw what he did, with anger fuming in you, you pulled his leg and sent him down on the ground before you tackled him andgave him multiple punches until the guards and the officials broke up the fight.

"THE TWO OF YOU, PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE. NOW!"

As a result of the fight and from the decision made by the higher ups, the guy was kicked out of the campus for multiple delinquent offenses while you got suspended for your role as the president for a couple of months when they learned that you just did that for self-defense.

Sana was sitting on the bed with the nurse preparing the first aid until you showed up and requested the nurse instead to leave it all on your hands. She hesitated for a minute that you are also bruised but you bargained until she gave up and listened to you as a respect for being a student leader.

Sana in her surprise, watched you sit down and grab the first aid beside you. "W-what are you doing?"

"Treating you."

"Don't make me a baby, YN. The nurse can do it herself."

You just stared at her and Sana felt a bit intimidated. She decided to shut up and forcefully let you do your thing. "Good. Now come closer and lemme see your cheek."

She leaned forward and directed her aching cheek on you. "That idiot." You cursed as you search around the reddening spot. You weren't aware that it was mixed by Sana's blush now to have you staring very closer at her.

You started applying the ice pack around the hurting spot as Sana hissed before she swallowed in her throat and spoke. "T-thank you... for earlier."

"No problem. That's unusual, atleast I got a positive comment from you.

"I- I wasn't expecting you to come to rescue me, okay. And I didn't know how much I needed it."

The awkwardness between each other formed as none dared to speak afterwards when both got lost in their words. However, you started a topic that might break the silence and for Sana to understand more.

"I wasn't always like this."

"I know, you said it. It's just that there's something happened that I don't know-"

"It's my dad." You answered it. Sana looked at you. "I know you've been itching to ask me what exactly happened."

"I just don't want to because I felt like it's not my intention to know more and all I had to do is to understand you because it seemed too personal that I might sound forceful. But I do really wanted to know why." Sana replied. "So... step-dad?"

"No. My biological dad." You revealed. "My original father was abusive to my mom. I learned that he became like that when he started to fell addiction to gambling and other crazy stuffs that risks your money badly. He releases his frustration to my mom until she couldn't take it no more when she heard it loud and clear from my father that he despises her for me not turning out to be the one he's expecting. He always wanted a son/daughter but... nope. That's just all a part of his excuses that made my mom snapped and file a divorce and report to my dad, and guess what. Her attorney became so interested in my mom and here he is, my mom and my dad broke up and him, who is now my step-dad, saved mom and I." You said as you applied care on her bruises.

Sana looked at you pitifully and for the first time, she frowned for you. "W-why are still helping me or... treating me good, even though I don't return it back at you?"

"Because... I got influenced. At first, I look up to my dad. I thought at first that he was tough, strong... I started becoming like him when him and my mom always gets to have a proble but then I realized that he was a true coward for proving all that by beating up my mom. And she was the one who is actually tough, because despite of all the suffering she took from my dad, she didn't hurt him back physically but that doesn't she has no plans to fight. Because if she does, then I wouldn't be in a better state if it wasn't for her.

So I changed. I took mom as my role model. I remained calm as much as I can. I did it all to reshape myself from the ghost of the past. Now here I am, rather choosing to prove myself and mean it all on my words on you. I don't want to fight anymore to cause trauma, Instead, I'll do in a need to protect the people who are close to me."

Sana tied all the strings together, and it did finally all comes to a clear point that it wasn't really your fault that you turned out to be that reckless bully that she had to go through a hard time before. She would be lying if she won't admit that she is a supporter of a belief that people can change, and it comes through this moment that she decided that she can use that phrase for good.

"There, all done." You said as you tucked all the hair to her ear and patted the bandage firmly on her face. Sana was just staring back at your tender and admirable demeanor. "Does it still h-"

"I forgive you."

"..."

You fell silent. That was very out of nowhere, but suddenly it got so uplifted to hear that successfully.

"Y-you do?"

"And we still have a week remaining ahead of us. We can use it to finally be able get along together."

You smiled widely as you saw how Sana's bright and cute grin shines right in your eyes. She looked so beautiful, and you even felt more guilty and poor for her on vanishing this irresistable kine of joy within her before.

"Yeah we can. T-thank you a lot, Sana."

Sana patted your hand to calm your happiness down. She smiled as she stared down at your hands stacked together. She took a grip on it and even felt the heat crawling through her skin, sending to her overflowing emotions in her heart.

It actually does look... fitting in her opinion. And she even agreed more to herself when she looked back up to see the owner of the hand she would actually love to hold more in many occasions.

That moment, Sana confirmed to herself that she has now began to discover a liking on you, who is also discreetly sharing the same serenade as her too.

Days after you and Sana tried to start this brand new closeness both of you has started for each other, its aftermath had left you ran out to became so overwhelmed about it, now that have reminded you of something that requires to be done more important before the expiration was reached.

You wanted to be happy because you have now made peace with Sana, but today wasn't the right time for you to celebrate fully.

Too much occupied on spending time for each other, that it almost made both forgot that you had to deal with a serious matter when the next day comes.

Your mood disrupted as you got conscious of the date today, not even Sana's bubbly personality can distract you from it or anything. You couldn't even join her as you remained watching her instead for some reason.

"You seem like you're in deep thoughts again, YN." Sana poked you with the tip of the ice cream she bought. "Are you okay?"

You didn't answer right away as it took time for you to snap back into your senses and found yourself being confronted by Sana.

"Y-yeah."

A lie. Sana detected that disturbing twitch of a forced smile on your lips.

"Really, what's going on? I know i've seen this last time on you getting blacked out of nowhere but this one feels different."

"How can you say?" You asked in a dead tone.

She shrugged and opened her ice cream first before she continued speaking. "That something's definitely bothering you. You're so stiff and uneasy. Does it makes you scared?"

"M-maybe it is..."

"Care to share what it is then?"

You were about to respond but Sana introduces you to her cold palm blocking your sight.

"But first, eat your ice cream. It's gonna melt, plus... it's my favorite flavor, okay? I don't want it getting wasted." She pouted adorably.

You chuckled and sighed as you opened your ice cream. "Delicious."

"Who? Me or the ice cream?"

"W-what?" You looked so baffled at her suspicious remark.

She laughed loudly at your embarassed expression. "I'm sorry- it's just... you keep on staring at me while you're licking it and commenting it for me. I thought you're teasing me so... I tried to get back on you."

"S-stupid, you and your pervy thoughts..." You rolled your eyes and blushed intensely at her own silliness. "And what if I say you?" you smirked a little and glared at her.

"Then I don't mind having you grab a taste as much as you like~" Her eyes didn't even had to glare back at you to look flirty and seductive, instead aura changed on its own as Sana ensures that the one who started this kind of fun won't end up getting defeated in the end.

You gulped and looked away from her enticing look as she wheezes. "Sorry, what's gotten over me. Anyways, let's go backto where we left. Oh yeah, what's making you scared?"

You had to compose yourself before replying to her. "Of us. Certainly... for you."

"Why?"

"I can't tell if this luck that I have of making myself had to witness this whole you being... just the way you are is only temporary for me to see, because I fear that... I might lose this... real you, again." You said.

"I appreciate the consideration YN but, risks are inevitable okay? It's fine to take it as long as it won't step or abuse my whole being again." Sana said. "I know you're scared but... face your fears. This is why you seek for another opportunity, right? To make things right."

"But would it be wrong for me if..."

"If...?" Sana waited for your next words to follow up.

Your heartbeat quickened, nerves trembling, emotions rising, as there's no going back once you have revealed this secret you have been keeping from her in weeks. "Would it be wrong for me if I don't just want you as a friend anymore? That I also began to admire you more than that?"

Sana's smile dropped. Her gaze went more focused on you as she couldn't believe what she's hearing. "Y-you like me?"

"I know it's ridiculous of me to say that to you, because I feel like I don't have the right to feel this way because I made you like this... forcefully with my wrongdoings. But, I don't know why my heart is being like this." You said to her.

"Maybe it's due to what I've said to you last time that I started to follow what my heart wants, and it pains because... I feel like this is what I may be missing after all these years when I rather ending up hurting you against my will. And now it makes me worry if I continue this feeling i'm having now that we have buried your hatred, I might lose this... bright side that depicts the real you, Sana. That I mercilessly thrown away when we first met.

I don't want to let it go but... I couldn't get rid of this feeling in me, even after you told me you have declined our contract, I'm heartbroken but I still keep on loving you." You started tearing up. For the first time, Sana has fully visualized this fragile self of yours and it truly does hurt her deep inside.

"But I don't want you to pity me. I still respect your decision, but... for the last time... a last hope in me, I just want to ask... do you... still want to reconsider it?"

You looked at her with your poor eyes. Sana got her breath taken away by your weakened state. Her heart crumples in pain seeing you like this because you are heavily concerned of something that you don't even had to.

Because she likes you too, and you don't even know yet.

If your heart chooses her, her heart needed you more.

"I'm sorry..." is what came out as a whisper to Sana's shaking tone. Your heart shattered and there's your last hope disappeared like a popped bubble in the air. She was about to speak but you interrupted her.

"I see. I get it, no matter how much a person forgives you for your sin, there's always be time that would grant you the punishment for wasting that moment that you should've been good rather. A karma, in short. And this one, is what I have to bring and suffer for the rest of my life." You said to her with a bitter smile. Sana was in awe at your guilty pronounce.

"I enjoyed our time but I think I have to go now, Sana. I'm sorry." You excused yourself to Sana as you emptied your ice cream and left her speechless on your spot with her. Her frozen consciousness has what costs her to respond late to unable to catch you as you walked away from her sight.

Sana was left in distraught, as the words she was about to say and the entirety of your confession sinked down to her.

March 31. The day of the proclaimation has come. The month is ending and that means the contract has reached its breaking point. You and Sana met again in the court along with your parents in each of your sides.

Both parties are worried and confused on why you and Sana seemed so dull and devastated that neither couldn't look at each other's eyes anymore. This is what you feared, and the regret is eating you up again so bad.

"Mr/Ms. LN, are you in favor of the contract to be published and hereby signed by you?"

"I do, your honor." You said. You wanted to give it up but you chose to fight for what you have desired more. You wanted to be with Sana longer, and even if it won't grant you the same opportunity, it doesn't matter. Atleast you have become honest to your heart that you would've love to have her as yours.

Sana's lips trembled as she tried to fight the tears about to pour down on her face but was unsuccessful that the judge had to halt the question. It breaks your heart more to see her in an emotional breakdown in front of you.

"Miss Minatozaki, are you okay?"

"I... I'm not..." She sniffed her nose and wiped her tears before proceeding. " I'm not in favor of the contract, your honor."

Your family and Sana's both were in shock and saddened. You weren't surprised, but you are surely devastated that she is really this a hundred percent certain of her decision.

"Are you sure with your answer, Miss Minatozaki? You look hesitant. Perhaps you can provide a clear explaination why you still responded the opposite?"

"I'm really not in favor of the contract, your honor." Sana shook her head. She wiped her tears again before she stepped forward and came closer to you.

"Because I don't want to have it done arranged."

Your eyes widened. The collective gasps of the both sides can be heard from the court.

"I'm rather hesitant because I want to be with you more, YN... but not through this. I want us to build the story of our relationship through our own. I want it that way, not this where others had to dictate and rush us how things should go for us." She apologetically looks back at yours and her family, and gladly they nodded understandably at her point.

She immediately pulls you into a hug so tight that you wouldn't even care also if you got suffocated into her endearing gesture of what finding your home should feel like. "I'm glad that you didn't let go, YN... because I love you too."

She sobbed into your shoulder and you gave up with your emotions as flood of tears fell down on your face, but this time it was all full of joy and relief. You reciprocated her action as you wrapped her body into your own embrace and cuddled her head on your side.

"Thank you... thank you for giving me a chance, Sana. I'll do everything I can not to ruin this. I love you.

She leans away fron your shoulder and holds your shoulders as she traces your face super close between each other. "I'm so proud of you, YN. You deserve it."

"And yes, I would be glad to be your girlfriend... and your future wife soon." She winked before she pulls your head next for a wholesome romantic kiss.

Your families and even the judge clapped and congratulated in support for your newfound stronger relationship with Sana since this is a sight to behold seeing two couples aren't destined to be torn apart from each other... but rather to stay together forever despite all the harsh and crucial situations they had gone through.

Love, in cooperation with time; always finds a way to connect two people's hearts no matter how long it might take, and this... is the way their story had to go.

#twice #twice sana #minatozaki sana #sana #sana x male reader #sana x female reader #twice book of one-shots x reader #knight yoo-myoui #twice sana au #twice sana fanfic #twice sana one-shot #twice fanfic #twice au #twice one-shot #kpop au #kpop oneshot #kpop fanfic

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drvscarlett · 6 months ago

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THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

Pierre Gasly x ex!reader

Summary: The 4 times that they break up and get back together and that 1 time they didn't.

The Tortured Drivers' Department series

A/N: im on a roll with updating the Tortured Drivers Department now that im nearly done with every reqs. I hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think or feel about this

Taglist. @tea-bobba @boiohboii @c-losur3 @haikyuen @stelena-klayley @stinkyjax @0710khj @jinimon-tr

"You're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're modern idiots"

Pierre and Y/N are the type of people that is confusing to talk about. No one really knows the big deal between the two of them, are they friends or are they lovers? One minute everything is all good, they are about to go to the store and pick out rings then the next thing that you know they already broke up. What was constant was that they always find their way back to each other.

Maybe it’s the lifestyle that makes it work; Pierre is a famous F1 driver that travels the world most of the year while Y/N is a grand recluse of a writer that is trying to find her way to the market. They don’t need much time from each other, and they understand the busy structure of their work.

Maybe its also the fact that they have years of friendship backing them up that's why they were able to last long with each others antics. So, what happened to them?

The first kind of break ups were pretty silly. It was usually something that could be fixed in a matter of hours or a day being away from each other. Its something very random and weird like this.

"Wait, so you are breaking up with me because you are writing?"Pierre was confused.

Pierre had been in relationships before but he has never once heard of someone wanting to break up with him because she has to meet a certain deadline.

He felt very whiplash by the whole situation because she was just kissing him and they were cuddling in bed in the morning. Now she wants to break up with him.

"Yes Pierre, I need to be in my most heartbroken self to write my best lines"Y/N confirms.

"So does this mean that once you finish this thing you are working on then we can get back together?"Pierre clarifies.

Y/N nods as she brings out her working laptop and a notebook.

"So should I say something mean or should I just leave you be to your senses?"Pierre wondered.

"Do you really wanna break up with me so badly?"Y/N had too much of Pierre's question

Pierre raised his hands in defeat.

"Okay then lets break up"

Pierre headed straight back to his room to allow Y/N to work on her things. He chuckles at himself with the weird antics of his girlfriend, (or should he say ex girlfriend) but he busies himself with some emails that he has from work.

It took Y/N two days before she comes crawling to their shared bed. Pierre was in a sleepy state when Y/N snuggled to his arms.

"Are you done?"Pierre wondered.

"Yeah,just passed my manuscript"Y/N agrees.

"Can I call you my girlfriend again?"

II.

Qualifying was extremely difficult today with Pierre taking p15. To make matters worse there was this pressing issue that Pierre might be axed from the team. It honestly frustrated him to the point that he was only doing sim work, training, and more training.

It worries Y/N a great deal especially when Pierre seems so out of it.

"Pierre c'mon get some rest" Y/N begged.

It was already 2 in the morning and there was still a race tomorrow but he insisted on hitting the gyms to train.

"You are going to be exhausted later during the race if you keep doing this"Y/N reminds.

"I don't care, I have to work hard"

"Pierre please listen to me"

"You're the one who is not listening to me"Pierre snaps "Don't you realize that I have the possibility to lose everything that I have worked hard for if they cut me off the team."

Y/N was in shock with the sudden outburst and if Pierre was in his usual self then he would have immediately apologized for raising his tone. But Pierre was far from thinking clearly.

"Pierre that was not nice"

"Nothing is ever nice in this world"scoffs Pierre.

"Look I'm just trying to help you he-"

"You know what, why not just break up with me so I can focus on my thing without anyone nagging" Pierre suggested.

She could feel the tears prickling her eyes and threatening to fall. But her mother did not raise her cry over a stupid boy like this.

"You're really going there huh" Y/N said "See if I care"

With a slam of the door, Y/N was gone and Pierre felt even more antsy than ever. It wasn't the fact that he has a messed up weekend but he has the possibility of messing up a good relationship because of his blind rage.

In a couple of hours despite Y/N implying that she didn't care, she was at the race patiently waiting for the lights to go out. It was difficult for her to just leave Pierre especially when he is in this state of mind.

But of course, Y/N's pride was something that she holds dear that is why she didn't show up to Pierre's garage. It is kind of weird to see the crowd of yellow and black colors but Y/N was so glad that she has Isa by her side to join her during the race.

"Never gets easier to let him go for races huh"Y/N comments as she watched Isa putting on Carlos' helmet.

"Well, I'm sure he tries his best to be careful on the track" Isa smiled.

"Why aren't you giving any pre-race goodluck kisses to Pierre? He might need it" Carlos suggested.

Y/N could just roll her eyes, Pierre wasn't superstitious like that.

"Okay laugh all you want but don't make me say I told you so if he gets involved in an accident"Carlos warns.

"Don't mind Carlos, he is just joking"Isa shrugs it off.

"But Isa, its true remember when-"

"Stop stressing Y/N out Carlos, go race and be safe"

"Aye aye"

Y/N watched the playful interaction before the couple parted ways. The scene struck a chord in her heart because she knew that she could never act that way with Pierre. Their whole relationship was a secret that only the grid knows Y/N is off limits. But outside the grid, no one knows about it. Fans equate them as close friends but never more than that.

"What's on your mind honey?"Isa asked

"Nothing Isa, I'm okay"

Y/N showed a weak smile and Isa was hesitant to press things but she just let friend be.

"Look the race is starting"Y/N diverts.

The sound of the engines filled the air and off the cars go. Y/N watched as everyone gets off with a decent start, she could only hope that there was no incident today especially for Pierre's sake.

Everything happened all of a sudden as white smoke filled the air and a loud collision was heard. The cameras were quick to pan to the accident and the two girls clutched each other's hands as the smoke clears.

"It's Nico, its not Carlos" someone from the garage reassured Isa and the girl could feel a sigh of relief.

However, the same cannot be said to Y/N as the frustrated team radio of Pierre can be heard and the familiar livery was seen in the middle of the wreck.

Any amount of pride or memory of what he said last night was suddenly thrown out of the window. She just wants to know how he is or if he is safe from that tragic collision.

"Y/N, they're going to check on Nico" Isa pointed out to some Renault people "You should probably go since Pierre would be there too"

Y/N was about to deny that she didn't want to see him but Isa had a stern look on her face.

"Just go honey"

And she comes running to the medical bay to look for the injured man. She was a bit thankful that precautions have been made in this sports that allowed drivers to walk away from such accident without major damages.

Maybe, a bruised ego is their biggest worry now.

"Y/N"Pierre was confused to see her.

Maybe the damage has been far more worse than he imagined because he was now seeing things. As far as he could recall, Y/N was not around when the race started. So how is she here?

"God, you scared me P"Y/N wrapped him in a hug.

Pierre was a little bit sore from the crash but there was this instant warm feeling knowing that Y/N didn't abandon him. Even if he was really moody and too shitty, Y/N was still there for him.

He remembers how terrible it was being in that car and thinking that the last memory he shared with Y/N is a bad one. He didn't feel great at all so he held her as if its his second chance.

"I didn't mean what I said last night"Pierre whispered "I'm really sorry for hurting your feelings. I wasn't thinking straight and there is just a lot of pressure-"

"It's okay, I know Pierre"Y/N consoles "I won't be leaving you anytime soon"

A chaste kiss was shared between the two of them, a symbol that they have reunited once more.

III.

The third time they broke up was when Pierre asked her hand for marriage and she didn't say anything.

After being constantly invited to weddings, Pierre is bound to pick up some courage to ask Y/N out. He developed this dream that he wants a life with Y/N and he is ready to take it to the next level. Knowing Y/N, he picked the right size and the perfect ring. He also knows her dream proposal place which is somewhere with a view of the city.

He had everything planned out perfectly so imagine his surprise when she answers.

"Pierre, I can't do this" Y/N dropped the bomb.

"What? Why?"

Y/N felt like an extreme asshole because everything was perfect. Any girl would say yes to this prime opportunity of marrying their childhood bestfriend but Y/N sees through things.

"Pierre we aren't even official to the public and now you want to escalate it to marriage" Y/N reasons.

"So that's it, you don't want to marry me because I can't call you mine in public?"

"It's not just that" Y/N sighs "but our careers are just taking off and we haven't talked about our relationship yet and suddenly were going to go to marriage"

What Y/N saying was valid but Pierre was not listening to any of it. He felt very crushed and he could not think straight at the moment.

"Let's just break up if you can't see a future with me"

"Pierre, you know that's not what I meant"

"Then tell me how would you feel if the person you truly loved didn't want to marry you"Pierre roared.

It was a devastating scene between the two of them. How Y/N wished that she could undo what she said a few minutes ago but she knows that she only means well. A rushed marriage will also lead to rush separation and she will not put herself to that.

"Let's break up then, I think its best if we go our seperate ways for the time being"Pierre concludes.

It took them three long weeks before they got back together. It was due to an intervention by Charles that allowed them to speak again and talk their differences. Pierre has been more understanding now and heard Y/N's point out.

They got back together but it felt like there is a huge crack that took a heavy blow with their relationship.

IV.

Y/N had a terrible day at work with her manuscript being asked to be revised by her publisher. All she needs was a good rest and possibly some cuddles with Pierre. She prays as she twist the doorknob that Pierre was not in his one of his moods.

"Mon amour"Pierre called out "I was waiting for you"

Pierre can cook but it doesn't mean that he does it often. It was a good surprise for Y/N to see the dinner table set with all of her favorite dishes and an array of fresh flowers in a bouquet. She eyes the man warily as she takes a seat

"I didn't miss any important dates, didn't I?" Y/N asked.

"Is it bad that I wanted to do something special for you?"

In other days, she would want to argue about it but for today she didn't want to do any of that. She had no energy to question Pierre's weird behavior and she just wants to enjoy the dinner with him.

It was a lovely dinner but Y/N knows that Pierre was hiding something from her. As she was putting away the plates, she knew that she had to get an answer or she may fall asleep overthinking things.

"What is going on P, I'm actually scared you did something stupid that's why you are buttering me up so much"

Pierre lets out a heavy sigh, they knew each other too well that they can't really keep a secret with each other.

"My PR talked to me today and they wanted to announce a relationship to help my whole image"Pierre confesses.

Articles are very easy to miss but as a writer, Y/N knows how a different usage of an article changes the meaning of the sentence. Pierre used "a" rather than "the" which means he is not referring to their relationship.

"Who is it?"Y/N wondered

"She's a model, her name is Caterina" Pierre explained.

There was a heavy silence in the room as Y/N dried out the dishes. She knew that this was all because she was not very marketable due to her timid personality. She was not even famous for her books so that's another reason. Bottom line, they can't announce her because she seems very different from Pierre and she is not the WAG material.

"How long?"

Y/N was used to this kind of treatment. She felt like she accepted this as long as she can get to keep Pierre at the end of this whole thing. People would think she is crazy but love makes people do crazy things.

"Just 6 months and its over"Pierre answered.

It was also very difficult for Pierre's end. He have tried to lobby that he wanted to announce his relationship with Y/N but he is held by a contract. If he decides to deviate then he might lose his seat.

He knows how difficult it was to ask her for this but he had no choice.

"I'll get packing then and I'll move out in the next few days"Y/N mumbles.

Pierre stopped her for leaving and held her tightly. She instantly melts in his hold and she easily reminds herself why she puts up with all of this.

"I love you, don't you forget that"

The world moved with Caterina being announced as Pierre's girlfriend. However, they didn't know that after 6 months then Pierre is back to Y/N's arms. It was always Y/N and Pierre even if the world can't see it.

It started with a normal dinner reservation.

Y/N has been promised by Pierre that he will take her out for dinner. They both understand that the past few weeks has been tiring for the two of them with the stress of racing, writing, and personal issues. The dinner is a nice way to reconnect with each other.

However, here she was already an hour waiting for Pierre to show up.

The hour goes from two to three and by the fourth hour, she decided that she will just go home. She have felt upset with Pierre before but this was a different kind of upset. It's not something to be fixed by flowers, vacations, or any of those stupid letters he does.

She reaches their shared apartment and started packing her stuffs. Her mind was already made up and this time it was going to last. The relationship was doomed to failure anyways.

And just before she finished packing, Pierre stumbles in.

"Y/N, do you have a schedule tonight?"Pierre asked.

He was met with silence as the writer ignores him.

"Oh c'mon what did I do wrong this time?"Pierre complains "Sit and talk with me Y/N"

Pierre could only stop Y/N by bringing all her packed clothes out of her suitcase. Something that heavily irritated Y/N, which caused her to finally speak.

"Can you just let me pack in peace"Y/N begged.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong"Pierre stops "Do you have a flight somewhere? Maybe I could drive you"

"You don't have to drive me Pierre"

"Then what's going on, I arrive here and you are fuming there-"

"You made me fucking wait four hours"Y/N snapped.

Pierre racked his brains for anything that he missed and he suddenly remembered how he reserved dinner with her. He felt like all the color drained on his face.

"Don't do this, I'll make it up to you Y/N" there was a desperation in Pierre's voice.

"I can't, we can't keep doing this P"Y/N admits it "We keep on breaking up and then making up then we act like this is a healthy relationship. We can't do this"

Strong arms wrapped around Y/N's waist and she could feel the wetness on her shoulders as Pierre buried his face there. It was proving more and more difficult for Y/N to leave him.

"I have to do this P, for you and for me"she remains firm.

"Tell me you don't love me"Pierre refuses to let go.

And Y/N cannot admit that because she knows she will always love Pierre. But she was scared that in loving Pierre so much then she may not have any love left for herself. She doesn't know what to do if she loses Pierre so its best if she will be the one to let go of him first.

"I'm sorry Pierre"

With a heavy heart, she removes the him away from her. She picks up her bags and closes the door. She left without taking a look back at the man she has loved from childhood till now because she knows that the moment she sees him then all form of control she has will evaporate.

And everything was two years ago. Here is Y/N with her third best-selling novel book signing tour. Sometimes she likes to think that she lost Pierre to be able to write the books that made her extremely famous. Most of the times, she wishes it never happened because she would rather have Pierre than these best selling novels.

It was her first time in Europe for work. She was often here to watch and support Pierre from the sideline. She never thought that she will be back in Europe so loved and so adored.

But it seems like destiny has a way of messing things up.

"Hi! What's your name?"she greets the woman in front of her.

Even though it has been a long day, she managed to master the art of keeping a perfect smile. She understands how the fans have been waiting in line for so long and she has to give them the best experience as she signs their book.

"My name is Kika, I'm a huge fan of yours" the woman introduced.

Y/N looked up to take a look at her. Kika had a dazzling smile and has this certain aura that exudes her charmingness. Y/N felt that she should be the one asking for Kika's signature because she looks like a stunning goddess.

"I really love the way you write things and I used to read it with my boyfriend when he is not racing"Kika narrates.

Racing, its been a while since Y/N heard that. She completely cuts off that certain topic ever since she left Pierre.

"Oh that sounds like a fantastic way to bond as a couple"Y/N agrees

"Yeah and actually my boyfriend told me that he knows you. I was actually wondering if he is joking but I figured that maybe he is"

There was this sinking feeling in her heart but Y/N would like to think that she made some friends in the F1 grid so this may be their girlfriend. Or maybe her boyfriend is bluffing.

"He races? In what kind of race"Y/N asked,she was careful.

"Oh he does Formula 1, his name is-"

"Kika mon amour"

Y/N didn't have to hear the voice twice to know who that voice belongs to. She knows that voice very well and she couldn't believe her rotten luck.

"Pierre, we were just talking about you"Kika embraces Pierre.

Pierre was shifting nervously and Y/N suddenly realized that Kika doesn't know anything about the shared history between the two of them.

"Oh so you are Pierre's new girl" Y/N knew how to act "I'm so pleased to meet you and yes I know Pierre from childhood"

"See mon amour, I was not lying"Pierre teased.

"So you do know her, we should definitely set up a lunch or dinner together"Kika exclaimed "I can't believe that my favorite author is your childhood friend"

She has that bright and genuine smile on her face. It was that certain genuineness that Y/N makes her heart crack. Why did she have to be so sweet and kind, its so difficult to fault her of anything.

"Y/N is one of the best authors, I know" Pierre proudly states "She has a way of tugging hearts"

"Indeed she has, I remember that when I first started reading one of your series I was so hooked and I wanted to pattern my dream partner to how you write the character of.."Kika babbles.

And everything felt like fading in the background. But Y/N didn't miss how Pierre was looking at Kika so lovingly and so endearing while Kika was rambling excitedly. The heart that was once healed was getting torn up once more because of what's happening in front of her.

#the tortured drivers department #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x imagine #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x y/n

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redclercs · 1 year ago

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DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

vi. do i really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

— the one where he ain't reading what they call you lately.

warnings: anxiety tics and symptoms, i–unironically–listened to the lakes a lot while writing this. 3k words.

masterlist ✢ next

By Marie Nichols

The first news we got about actress y/n y/ln's new romance came at the start of this month, when she was seen at the Miami Grand Prix with Ferrari's sponsor Elix. What appeared to be only rumors, since y/n and Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc were single at the same time, have been confirmed little by little.

Although it is not like y/n to soft-launch a relationship, she's been hinting at it for several weeks now. From staring lovingly at her new boyfriend as he receives the winner's trophy in Monaco's Grand Prix to instagram posts saying she 'feels like a princess', the last confirmation we needed came yesterday when Twitter went crazy over user @/formulacharles' picture of the new couple, on a romantic date around Monaco.

Opinions are divided on this couple as both #y/nIsOverParty and #YNCHARLES trended at the same time. Most of the negative views on this flourishing romance come from Aidan Kim's fans, who claim it has been happening since before Kim and y/ln broke up around March after dating for three years.

We have gathered some of the best tweets from both sides, to help us make up our minds about the whole situation.

❝@/aidankimluv: I can't believe y/n is rubbing her new relationship in everyone's faces like this! she can't be single and it shows❞

❝@/gr4ndekim: the timing still rubs me off the wrong way, this has been happening for way longer than she wants us to know❞

❝@/ynselixcan I need y'all to touch grass for a second and realize men and women can be friends, and if they are dating it's none of your business anyway❞

❝@/leclercsdiary: they are cute together but tbh without knowing much about y/n... i don't want her to mess with charles' head❞

We are still hoping for an official confirmation, although pictures speak for themselves. Will y/n ever be brave enough to admit she dumped Aidan Kim for a Formula 1 pilot? We'll keep you updated!

FROM F1GOSSIPXO ON TIKTOK: "FANS CAUGHT Y/N AND CHARLES ON A DATE IN MONACO"

[text to speech assistant voice]: ❝(...) someone on twitter took this picture of them at a famous rose garden in Monaco and the second clip is charles dropping y/n off back at her hotel. i guess all the rumors are true and we have a new grid couple... a frankly problematic couple at that.❞

May 30th, Montecarlo, Monaco.

It was, in all honesty, a little dumb to believe that you could keep it lowkey if you were going to hang out with Charles.

First, Victoria who normally remembers close to nothing about the nights she gets drunk, remembered perfectly the 'moment' you shared with Charles when he offered to show you around. The whole rebound conversation happened again, much to your dismay.

Then, there was the car. Charles' custom Pista Spider is quite literally, the opposite of lowkey and apparently the only option he was willing to offer for you two to move around Monaco.

Which makes perfect sense, no matter how much you hate it.

There was also the timing. Which was really, really bad, and you blame your ignoring this on the fact that you had a lot to drink the night you said yes to his offer. On a normal basis Charles is the most sought after person in Monaco, him being the Grand Prix winner from two days before, multiplied the attention by a million.

Yet when he called you on Monday night to make sure you were still up for the next day, you couldn’t find it in yourself to say no. He was being nice and friendly, and you had no reason to deny him other than the anxiety you felt in the back of your neck every time you thought about what people would say if they found out.

And people would find out, sooner or later.

But you are not committing a crime, you tell yourself in front of the mirror. Charles is becoming your friend, which is something you really, really need at this point in your life. Granted, befriending the guy that you’re tangled up in rumors with isn’t the best idea, it’s neither your fault nor his.

So you take a deep breath and fix your hair for the last time before leaving your hotel room. Charles called you a few minutes before to let you know he is waiting in the lobby, and you can feel your palms sweating already.

Charles is nodding attentively to a child with a Ferrari cap who is telling him all about his Monaco GP experience when you step out of the lift.

He waves at you, and his eyes register your appearance in seconds before they return to the child.

“This is my friend y/n,” he tells the little boy as you approach. “She’s a huge Ferrari fan, too.”

The boy smiles brightly and his focus shifts to you, asking what your favorite part of the Grand Prix was and whether you think they can win in Spain. You give him the best answer you can come up with, that the best part was seeing Charles win (to which both Charles and the boy smile) and that yes, you believe it’s Carlos’ turn to win his home race.

Once Charles finishes signing his merch and he makes sure the kid has returned to his parents safely, his whole attention is devoted to you.

“You are really pretty,” he smiles, his accent coming out in the way he pronounces “pretty”.

Lowkey is the word of the day, and that’s also what you had in mind when picking your outfit. A sage green sundress with matching short-heeled shoes. Nothing too garish, but that still makes you feel confident.

“Thank you, you look good yourself.”

It’s a half-assed compliment that comes out of your mouth out of sheer anxiety. He looks incredibly handsome in a light blue shirt that brings out the blue in his eyes and a decent pair of jeans instead of the horrible ones he wore on Sunday.

Charles smiles wider, "Thank you, y/n."

You bite the inside of your cheek in embarrassment, and Charles' eyes go small in amusement.

"Are you ready?" he asks, ending your torment as you feel heat creep up your neck. Charles hesitates in offering his arm to you, and instead puts his palm out for you to walk in front of him.

You nod, starting the walk towards the exit. His car is right outside the door to the hotel, and there are people surrounding it, taking pictures and craning their necks to look inside. It's your turn to hesitate as you stop in your tracks, Charles' chest millimeters away from your body as he comes to an abrupt stop and avoids crashing into you.

"Let me," he says, his semblance more serious as he moves you aside gently. The doorman nods at him and opens the door.

Your anxiety rises as Charles leads you out of the hotel, apologizing in both French and Italian about not taking pictures as he opens the car door for you.

He continues smiling and saying 'thank you' and 'i'm sorry' as he walks around the car, to the driver's seat and climbs inside. The car offers little protection from the outside, but you're grateful for whatever refuge. It's not like you to act like this, but wherever your name appears on the internet lately is full of vile stuff. The mere thought of it makes your hands shake, you're afraid of what they're going to say this time.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, watching you put your hands on your lap, palms down so the skirt of the dress wipes your sweat.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you reassure, more to yourself than to him. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Charles smiles again, shoulders relaxing as he steers the car away from the crowd.

You look at him, feigning insecurity and he frowns for a moment before you chuckle. "Don't worry, I love surprises."

"What do you think of Monaco so far?" he asks, squeezing the wheel a couple times. If you didn't know better, you'd think he is nervous too.

"Are you kidding? It's beautiful. The Grand Prix was something else, and everywhere I look there's luxury." You gesture around, but the prime example is the car you're riding right now, and the driver who's wearing a $2 million watch.

Charles laughs and nods, "It never stops being beautiful, no matter how much time you spend here. I miss it every time I'm away."

You understand. Because you miss New York so much, it doesn't matter how overrated people say it is. It's become your home and you hate being away from it, especially considering the circumstances that exiled you.

The very good thing about Monaco is that car rides are short. So when you get to your destination, you've barely had time to make things awkward with small talk.

You wait patiently for him to walk to your door and open it once you’ve parked. Charles has put on a pair of sunglasses and you think it’s a shame you can’t see his blue eyes anymore. You discard this thought immediately though, you’re not going to think like this about someone you’re befriending.

“So?” You ask taking his hand as he helps you out of the car. “What place were you so keen on showing me?”

Charles holds on to your hand for a moment too long, and you stare down at them. He lets go, repeating the gesture from earlier to let you walk in front.

“It’s a rose garden,” he begins explaining, leaning a bit forward so he doesn’t raise his voice. “The Princess’ Rose Garden, I saw your picture saying you felt like a princess. I thought you would like it.”

You turn around to face him and this time he isn’t quick enough to avoid crashing in to you. So much for an F1 Pilot’s reflexes.

“You’re not allergic to flowers are you?” He questions, the panicked undertone makes you smile. “y/n?”

“No!” You throw your head back laughing, “I just think it’s adorable how you related the ideas.”

There is a newly installed shade of pink in Charles’ cheeks and he runs a hand through his hair, sheepish. “Well, I’m glad I got it right.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling and you are genuinely so excited so clap your hands a little. “The Princess’ Rose Garden! Let’s go!”

Charles still lets you lead, following wherever you go and translating whatever signs aren’t in English already. He too, is genuinely happy to see you so bubbly and excited as you marvel at the colors of the flowers and the arches, and the statues. He’s proud of himself for picking the right place.

“Let me take a picture of you,” he says, as you walk through a white arch speaking excitedly about how this reminds you of Alice in Wonderland. “y/n?”

You look at him over your shoulder with a smile and he snaps the picture before you can react properly or pose.

“Oh no Charles, delete that!” You whine, walking back to him to look at his phone.

“No, you look perfect,” he replies, showing you his screen. “See?” He does not regret a word that has come out of his mouth and it makes you pause, face warming up at the statement.

“Let me take a picture of you, then,” you say, pointing him towards the arch. He’s quick to comply, walking towards the arch and smiling at you, without looking at the camera.

You show him the screen of your phone and he seems satisfied with the picture, as he doesn’t ask you to retake it.

“Should we go down to the lake?” He asks signaling down the path.

You nod, putting your phone back in your purse and resisting the temptation to look at the notifications that crowd your lock screen.

Charles takes your hand once again as you arrive at the lake.

"You might slip in the grass," he explains, clearing his throat.

"Right," you chuckle, but he's right, the little hill you have to pass to get to the edge of the lake looks like a worthy rival to your heels. You know who'd be losing. "Thanks."

You sit down so close your shoulders are touching, but neither moves or speaks for a few minutes. Taking in the way the golden hour falls in the garden, the sun reflects off the surface of the lake and colors your face amber.

You're glad Charles has removed his sunglasses, because you can see his eyes again. The green is more visible now thanks to the golden in the environment.

"Thanks for bringing me here," you finally break the silence, "I really like it."

"I'm glad, y/n," he says, both dimples showing as he smiles. "I'm sorry I couldn't show you more places, though."

All Monday and a big part of today he was busy with interviews and photoshoots, all to celebrate his breaking the Monaco curse. You don't mind, he deserves to be celebrated.

"Maybe another time," you add.

"Whenever you want," his smile widens, and you have to look away from him. Your brain is swarmed in thoughts of how pretty he is, and you wish you could just leave it blank for a minute or two. "Thank you for agreeing to come."

The impulse of saying something that will ruin the mood is greater than your self-control, and curiosity keeps eating you from the inside since last Thursday.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Charles nods calmly, resting his chin on his hand as he faces you. "Anything."

"Do you really not care about... well, what everyone is saying?"

Charles tilts his head slowly, and frowns. "About what?"

"Me. You. Us." you whisper the last word, embarrassed. It feels a lot like 'Us' means something completely different than just being thrown together in a hurriance of wild rumors and lies.

"I don't," Charles doesn't even hesitate, "I don't read all of that. Carlos keeps me up to date, which is ridiculous."

You pinch your thigh lightly, ashamed that even his teammate knows everything that's been said about you.

It's the first time all evening that Charles wishes he could take his words back. "What I mean," he continues quickly, "Is that I don't let people on the internet form my opinion on someone, you, especially."

You return your gaze to him, "I'm sorry people have dragged you into this."

"You don't have to apologize for things that aren't your fault, y/n."

"Well, it does feel like it's my fault." You admit, and you hate the way your eyes sting, you don't want to cry in front of Charles. You really are ruining the whole mood.

"Is there anything you'd like me to do?" Charles is more serious now, trying to catch your avoidant eyes as you blink the tears away. "Something you want me to say? Because I will."

You shake your head no. You don't want him to actively participate in this mess, it's a PR nightmare and Ferrari and him have enough on their plates already.

"Unless you want to say something, Charles."

"There is a lot I want to say," he mutters through gritted teeth, and you're not quite sure what he means.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," he repeats, more lighthearted this time. "And stop whatever it is that you're reading about yourself, too."

"I'm not—"

Charles shuts you down with a look, there is no point in lying to him when, like Mati, he's weirdly capable of seeing right through you.

"You're sweet and talented, and hard-working, and many other positive things I'm hoping to continue witnessing first-hand." He speaks so fast his accent slips in several words.

"Thank you." you say sincerely, and you reach for his hand for the first time ever, giving it a squeeze before letting it go, something he accepts albeit reluctantly.

You sit together for a while longer, the awkwardness from your previous moments together alone is a distant idea, as you don't need to fill the silence anymore. Charles doesn't make your hands sweat in the way that feels wrong, your fingers don't prickle or go numb, your heartbeat—although fast—doesn't make your chest feel tight.

It's okay, you remind yourself, Charles likes you enough.

"Hello?" you're taking your shoes off, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder.

"y/n!" Vic yells, making you wince, your phone clatters to the floor and you're glad the rug breaks the fall. "Are you back from your date?"

"It was not a date, Vic," you opt to put her on speakerphone, "And yes, I'm back."

"How was it? I saw on Twitter that you were in a garden? Was it cute?"

You sigh, of course this is on Twitter already. "Vic, I'm so serious right now, stop with the Twitter stuff."

"Sorry y/n," she sighs, her tone like a regretful child apologizing to their mom. "But my timeline is just full of them, honestly, I wish I could just reply to people and tell them to back off."

"Just ignore them, please, Vic,"

"I promise. But how was it, your not date?"

"It was great," you immediately regret the sigh that escapes your lips. "Charles is very nice, and the place was super pretty. We went to dinner after which was pretty cool too."

"That is a date, y/n," Vic giggles, "That's amazing! I'm glad you had a good time."

"Thank you," you let yourself fall back on the bed. It was not a date. The anxiety that Charles had helped soothe is back now, it feels like cold water running down your back. "What about you, what did you do today?"

It's 10 pm in Monaco, which means it's around 1 pm in Los Angeles.

Vic starts going off about her day, how she hates the smell of the new face cream she was supposed to release to the public two weeks ago, her trip to the gym with Holly and that other girl whose name you finally learn again—Deanna.

"When are you coming back to LA?" she asks.

You're picking up your stuff from around the room, you have to take a flight tomorrow and you'd rather sleep in, than wake up early to finish your packing.

"Soon I hope," you yawn. It makes no difference to you, spending time in hotel rooms and Vic's house, neither are home. So you're not rushing to go back to her.

"y/n, you promised you'd be here for the opening of the store," Vic is serious now. "You promised."

Closing your eyes, you battle that uncomfortable feeling on your hands. You're sure that you won't get any proper sleep if it doesn't go away.

The opening of Vic's first Presley Beauty store is on Friday, the same Friday you're going to be in Spain.

"I know Vic, I'm sorry. But I have to be with Elix, violating a contract at this point is not a good idea."

"Babe, you said you'd be the ambassador for the first store. People will come if you're there!"

You're not too sure of that right now. Maybe people would show up to throw tomatoes at you, if anything.

"I really am sorry, Vic."

She falls silent on the other side for a few minutes, and you continue packing, waiting for her to gather her feelings. You know you're in the wrong here, breaking a promise to your best friend, but you'd rather not mess up the only job you have right now. Plus, you are certain the publicity her very first store would get from you wouldn't be a good one right now.

"Okay, apology accepted," Vic exhales so hard it makes the microphone crackle. "But you do have to come to the store later, PROMISE ME."

"I promise. I'll be back in LA next Monday and I'll go straight to your store and steal everything."

Vic laughs and you're glad her anger has vanished.

"I'll call you tomorrow, okay? After I land in Spain."

"Sure babes," Vic is her cheerful self again, "Have fun and also, say hello to Charles for me."

You roll you eyes. "Bye Vic, love you."

"I love you too, babe."

For the first time in days, you turn your phone off before getting ready for bed. You are not going to scroll endlessly through hashtags with your name. You're not going to read what they're calling you lately, because your friends—at least some of them— aren't.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello hello, thank you for reading! i hope you've enjoyed this chapter. The slow burn is slow burning friends. I would love to know your thoughts.♡❞

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covetyou · 1 year ago

Text

open hand or closed fist would be fine

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con, vaginal fisting, oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V, creampie, praise kink, derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap. word count: 5.7k chapter summary: You see Joel everywhere, the sight of him alone making you even more desperate. You turn up to his door, drenched from the rain, and let him give you (almost) everything you need.

A/N: I cannot believe there's only one week to go. Thank you so much for all your support. ily 💛

The last few days I've been chanting "fist it fic, fist it fic" whenever I've gone to write for this. They hype has been real and the triumphant and feral SCREAM I let escape my body when it was done. You probably all heard it. And the amount of squeezing and examining my own hand I did this last week? Unreal. I am deeply acquanted with my own fist anatomy now.

4k of this is pure porn, 2.5k of which is fisting and the build up, my fucking god.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

song: cherry wine by Hozier

You see him everywhere. You're really not looking for him, but everywhere you turn it seems he's there too. Turning a corner as you walk your dad to a job. Talking in the street, Tess by his side, her eyes briefly catching yours as you stare, a smirk tugging at her lips when you dart your eyes away.

You even see him at work. He ignores you, of course, turning to your colleagues to pick up food, exchanging flirty quips and a wink with one of them, making her giggle and bat her lashes, before walking away without a single glance at you.

It's driving you mad. You don't want to talk to him, you wouldn't even dare to, but seeing him is sending the thread of want through you scalding hot, burning through your veins. There's no let up and there's no relief, no matter how much you make yourself come.

Thankfully, collection day comes around fast.

Your dad had been good recently, even with the change in weather. He maybe could have stretched his pills further, gone a bit longer between collections, but you were eager to see Joel again, and even more eager to have him look at you, to touch you. Seeing him around so often had done nothing to ease your desperation either, and by the time your free day rolls around you're trying not to bounce off the walls.

And, of course, it's fucking raining. You hold off as long as you can, watching as the rain drizzles consistently from the gray sky for hours. With no sign of letting up, you head out, resigning yourself to a damp walk to Joel's apartment. You're going to be wet by the time you get there anyway, rain or not.

You're not quite wet through when your cold knuckles tap against the wood of his door.

When he answers, he takes your breath away. He's stood there, pants slung low on his waist, towel thrown over his shoulder, hair damp and touselled. He's shirtless, his usual shirt no longer stretched across the width of his shoulders, and you gape at him. If the last few weeks hadn't been enough to send you stupid with want for him, this certainly has sealed the deal.

There's a glass of whisky in his hand and he takes a sip, looking at you, before he says anything.

"Did you not see the rain?" he quips.

Your skin prickles and burns just looking at him, the cold wet from outside already leached from your bones just by setting your eyes on his bare skin. You swallow heavy and he's talking again before your brain can kick into gear.

"You really that desperate, ain't you?" You don't answer him. You know he's not talking about the pills any more and you know he already knows the answer.

His eyes roll and he twitches his head to the side. "In," he says, moving from the door, taking another sip of whisky. "And take this shit off, I don't want you drippin' on my floor."

You take your coat off and hang it on a hook on the wall, reaching for the button on your pants just as he throws the towel at you.

"Dry yourself off."

You keep your eyes on him the entire time you strip off the rest of your wet clothes. Now that the towel is gone from his shoulder you can see everything - every scar and blemish on his broad torso, every curl of hair. You've never seen him shirtless and you want to take in every part of him now whilst you still can. He might dress whilst you blink and then the moment will be over. Who knows when you'll see him like this again.

"So, you're so desperate for it you came here in the rain, huh?" He asks, taking another sip from his glass. You don't answer. You're stood in just your panties now, grateful for the warmth in his apartment, but that does nothing to stop the pebbling of your nipples and the shudder that creeps down your spine.

"Dad's out of his meds, he -" you start.

"Sure. S'always the pills," he scoffs. "Don't think I ain't seen you lookin' at me. It's like I'm being fuckin' watched with you out there."

You couldn't really help it, if you saw him your eyes were magnetically drawn to him for as long as possible. You didn't think you'd been that obvious but, well, you'd not exactly tried to hide it either.

He's approaching you now, whisky glass discarded on the table.

"Look at me," he says, tilting your head up with a finger. You reluctantly drag your eyes away from his chest and meet his gaze. His own eyes are burning into yours, maybe as much as yours are to his. If you didn't know better you'd think he felt as needy as you did. You hope it's even for you specifically and not just needy for a warm, wet hole.

"What are we gonna do with you, huh?" You shrug - you didn't mind what he did with you, to you, you just know you needed it. "Something's got you showing up needy and wet to my door sweetheart, gotta do something about it. Can't have desperate sluts like you lookin' at me all the time without repercussions."

At his words you tense.

"Hm? Is that what you are?" he's whispering to you now. "S'not enough that I'm giving you your daddy's pills, is it? You need me to give you more."

You nod. You need fucking more, anything more.

"Take the rest of this off. Y'know I like lookin'." He pings the waistband of your panties against your hip, the elastic sharp against your cold skin.

He could complain as much as he liked about you watching him walk down the street, but the way you looked at him in those moments would never compare to the way he looked at you now. You liked him looking.

You quickly tug your panties down your legs, wobbling as you stand upright. You reach a hand out to him to steady yourself, not wanting the humiliation of falling on your ass in front of him and desperate to feel his skin under your fingertips again. His hand reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can make contact.

His thumb brushes across the inside of your wrist. Your heart is hammering and he must be able to feel the thrum of your pulse beneath the thin skin of your wrist. Air huffs from his nose, a single dry laugh coming from him.

"You're wet already, ain't you? I can tell, sweetheart. Always been able to tell." Then he strokes a single thick finger over your body - across your arms, over the swell of your breast, down the valley between your tits, across your belly, stopping at your mound and pulling away.

"Let's get you what you need then, huh," he tucks hair behind your ear, never letting go of your wrist with the other. He's already tugging you to his bedroom when you nod, closing the door to keep in the warmth.

He drops your wrist, telling you to make yourself comfortable as he moves to the window, closing the curtains, keeping yet more heat in.

You climb onto his bed, scooting yourself up and sitting yourself by his pillows, watching his every move.

"It's been a while since I got a proper look at that cunt," he says as he turns around to approach his dresser.

You spread your legs for him instantly, no shame and no heat in your cheeks as your thighs fall flat to the bed, spread so wide the stretch in your hips is almost painful.

He laughs at you, shaking his head and muttering under his breath as he pulls his belt from its loops, placing it onto the dresser before popping open the top button on his pants. You're still staring at his crotch, willing the zipper down with your mind, when he's crawling on his knees toward you, a rough hand smoothing up your calf as he goes.

With no warning, hands clamp around your ankles and you're being yanked down toward him, slipping down the bed and back hitting the mattress with a thud, knocking the air from you.

Joel lets out a deep breath, moving closer to you, massaging your thighs in both of his hands, squeezing the meat of them and dragging thick fingers across your flesh over and over until his fingers meet at the crease of your thigh.

"Jus' look at her," he breathes, eyes transfixed on your cunt. You roll your hips, pulling a smile across his face as he tuts at you. "So desperate."

You nod, trying to hold back a slew of begging as his hands run across your thighs and finally - fucking finally - pull you apart and start stroking your lips, spreading slick over your pussy with one thick finger.

"Barely even touched any of this yet," he says tickling your clit with his index finger before dragging back down through the wetness of your cunt, "and just look at you. You're a fuckin' mess."

You wiggle at the touch of his finger, shifting your thighs to ease the stretch in your hips, and he's holding you down with both hands, staring at you with a stern look.

"I know you want me to spank your pussy again sweetheart, but keep 'em open, lemme see the mess you made."

You moan at the mention of it, tempted to let your legs twitch closed to feel the clap of his hand on your cunt.

"If you're good I'll spank your pussy another time," he smirks as he says it, but you hope he means it.

"I'll be good," you promise in a whisper, watching as his eyebrows raise at your words, shaking his head.

He covers your bared cunt with his hand rubbing softly, gently jerking the nub of your clit between his fingers before spreading them and ducking his head down to swipe his tongue where your clit peaks out from between his fingers. "We'll see how good you are."

His hand drags down you, two fingers stroking your empty hole before pushing in smoothly in one movement. Your cunt is so slick there's no resistance, and Joel notices.

"So easy," he taunts, looking down to where his fingers push into you. "You been keepin' her stuffed at home?"

You had. You couldn't lie. Tess's fingers had felt so good in you, you often stuffed three of your own into yourself and pretended they were hers. You look at him and nod, watching as a soft Fuck falls from his lips. He pushes his fingers down inside you, stretching your hole open as he massages from side to side. The deep pull makes you groan.

You feel his teeth graze your clit, making you buck into his hand just as he's pulling his fingers from you and replacing them with three, sliding them in and flexing them inside of you. He licks at you once more before sitting back on his haunches, watching your hole grip tightly around his fingers.

"My dick not been enough for you?" he suddenly asks, pulling down his zipper and tugging at his pants to free his cock.

You start to shake your head. "It is I-"

"Don't lie to me," he cuts you off, distracting you with the increased movement of his fingers in and out of your hole as he suckles your clit back into his mouth. He releases with a wet pop, giving your cunt a broad lick, sitting back once again. You watch him tug on his cock, fingers still buried in you, thighs still spread and pussy dripping.

He's reaching now, over the side of the bed, fingers keeping a slow pace inside you, the slow drag of them stretching your walls as he flexes and swirls them in you. You hear a familiar snick and look down to see a bottle just as a cold trickle of oil hits your clit, drizzling down to fingers spread into your pussy, funneling it in. He removes them, rubbing broadly over your entire mound with his hand, smearing oil everywhere. You don't think about how fucking long it'll take to wash off this time, you just think of how wet he's making you, staring burning heat straight into your core as he massages your oiled cunt with his heavy hand. You were already a slip and slide, but now you're impossibly wet, cunt and inner thighs shining with oil and your own slick.

His fingers push back into you, the stretch move obvious than before, when you realize four of his thick fingers are seated in you.

"Good girl," he says as you moan, feeling so stretched but not full enough, you want him deeper, you want more. "Your own fingers feel as good as this?"

"Not even close," you say around another moan. Of course they fucking didn't. You wondered if he ever thought about what you did to yourself in the dark of night, what you did the chase the feelings you'd only been able to get in his apartment. You wonder if he ever touched himself to thoughts of you too.

"That's cause a needy pussy like this needs more than your little fingers."

You nod. He'd never said anything more true - you needed more.

"I'll give you more, sweetheart."

A wicked smile pulls at his lips, sending a thrill through you. You'd stopped expecting anything of your visits to the nice apartment on the other side of the QZ, leaving your fate up to Joel entirely the minute you stepped through the door. You could trust him, in some sick twisted way. Somehow, he'd never showed you reason not to.

His fingers push in, curling and squelching inside you as he fucks you with them. A calloused thumb finds your clit, rubbing slick oil across the bared surface of it, making you squirm, throwing your head back as you plead with him.

"That too much?" You shake your head. "Didn't think so. It ain't enough, is it?" You say nothing, just whine through the wet sound if your pussy being fucked by four of his fingers.

There's more pressure, a deeper push of his hand, the ridge of his knuckles stretching and burning the entrance of your pussy as he pushes. The feeling startles you, and you shoot up onto your elbows.

"Wait," you gasp, "What-uhhh."

"Shhh," he says, pushing a hand down onto your lower belly to keep you still.

His slicked thumb never stops circling your clit just as the widest part of his knuckles breach you - he can feel a jerk of movement as the rock of your hips into his palm, desperate to take more of him in, is stopped by the weight of his hand on your belly.

"Fuck, that's it sweetheart. You can take it, just a little more." His words, as always, generate a surge of wetness from you, and with that his four fingers slip into you past the solid ridge of his knuckles and down to the palm of his hand. The only thing stopping him from slipping into you completely is the jut of his thumb.

You pant and still, willing yourself to relax, but instead whine with the immense fullness in your cunt. The length of Joel's cock had prepared you for intrusions battering your cervix, but his impressive girth was nothing compared to the width of his hand.

"Oh I know, I know, that's so much ain't it. So much for this little pussy." He teases a finger around the swollen skin of your hole as he admires the look of his fingers buried in your cunt.

He places a gentle kiss onto your clit, the gentlest he's ever been with you. "Doin' so good for me." He kitten licks the sensitive nub, distracting you from the stretch in your cunt, and before you know it you're liquid beneath him again, writhing on his bed and moaning his name as you get teased closer to the edge once again.

"So good. Reckon you can take it all, sweetheart." He had a knack for asking questions that were never really questions.

"N-no, I can't, it's too much," you beg, his fingers still wedged deep inside you. "This feels good, I promise."

He begins to move his hand, flexing his fingers at first, before twisting his palm this way and that. You stare, mesmerized between your legs as the opening of your cunt stretches across his twisted palm.

"S'not gonna be too much. You'll like it, I promise. Look," he pulls his four fingers from you, the burn so much less this time, and you feel yourself stretch over the bones of his knuckles again before the pressure releases and you're left totally empty.

You whine with the loss.

"She just wants to be filled up. She's gapin' and empty right now, sweetheart. She needs it." He kisses your clit again, holding you open with thumbs that you feel slip inside of you and tug you apart.

He plunges four fingers into you again, drawing them together as much as he can as he fucks you past his knuckles again in one movement, aided by the slick of oil that's now dribbling out of you and making a mess on his sheets. You only just feel his knuckles pop inside you before they're pulling out again, the sensation making you feel weak as you let your arms fall and drop back onto his bed once more.

When he goes to push back in, his thick thumb joins his fingers. You feel it as his knuckles approach your cunt, the stretch even more this time.

"Wait, no I can't do it," the words tumble from your mouth in a panic. You're gripping his sheets, trying not to slam your legs closed at the intrusion of most of his fist seated inside you.

"Yeah you can, you can take it. You wanted more. Remember how empty it feels?"

You nod. You remembered, you felt so fucking empty without him inside you.

A slick hand smooths up your thigh, calming you. "Then lie back and close your eyes, sweetheart. Greedy girls gotta get their pussies stuffed."

The hand never stops caressing your thighs, dragging oil slicked fingers up and down your skin, turning you to putty with each stroke. By the time he's pushing in again, your legs are pinned back, spread obscenely, just for him, as your pussy stretches wide over his fingers.

His hand stills on the apex of your thighs, holding you down, stopping your hips from moving as he tries to seat his entire fist in your desperate cunt. You start to whine when his knuckles pull at your entrance, the sting of the stretch stronger again now.

"You can take it, you can take it," he murmurs, spurring you on.

You breathe deeply, uncontrollable whines falling from your mouth, the stretch is so much you feel like you might burst. You take a deep shuddering breath to steady yourself, and as you breath out Joel pushes his fist in harder, any resistance giving way to his force.

The sound he tears from you as he pushes his fist fully into your pussy is animalistic, guttural. It roars from you and he continues to fuck his fist into you until your hole is clamped down on the thickness of his wrist. You throw your head back and reach for him, fingers touching his where they rest on your leg and you grab onto them.

"Fuck yeah, that's it. That's fuckin' it." He lets you grip his fingers, still moaning as the blood pounds in your ears.

He's smiling up at you, almost laughing, when you next look down.

"Got my whole fuckin' hand in your pussy sweetheart. Hole is so stuffed and stretched out now."

His cock had been a stretch at one time. You were usually so wet that it parted you easily, but you could still feel that ache inside you as you gave way to him. This was new. Even rock hard and standing to attention, his cock had a softness to it. His hand did not. Calloused palms, rough fingers and bone did not yield or give way. The ridges of his fist felt foreign inside your cunt, and yet part of you still wanted to ask for more.

One breath, then another, and another, and your fingers are relaxing their death grip on his own. He twists his hand inside you from side to side just a fraction. Feeling so much moving and writhing inside you feels strange, but the fullness in your cunt and the depth of his hand have you moaning again, throwing your head to the side.

"That good?"

"Yeah, 'sgood," you whine.

His hand twists more, the ridge of his knuckles dragging on your inner walls.

"Ohhhhhh."

"Oh fuck, that's it," he says, pulling his fingers away from your grip and finally letting go of your hips.

You hear the wet sound of his oiled hand on his cock as he strokes himself, gripping his tip tightly and jerking it slowly at the sight of his hand buried in your cunt. Your pussy pulses around his fist as you watch his thumb swipe at a bead of cum about to drip off the tip of his cock and onto his pants to join a wet patch forming there. For all the mess you were making, it seemed he was making plenty of his own.

"Sit up now, want you to watch," he's saying, letting go of his cock and stroking around your stretched hole, dragging more wetness up to your clit.

Joel moves his fist, twisting this way and that, before dragging it back from you. His hand barely releases from your cunt, the edge of you stretching over the lowest part of his palm, before plunging back in. His eyes are locked on your pussy, watching his fist gently fuck into you. You groan at the sight, at the feeling.

"That feels good, huh?"

"Yeah," you whine. "I wanna cry," you're suddenly saying, because it's true, it's so much, so good, that you want to do nothing more than sob.

"That's because you've been so desperate for it, sweetheart," he says, stroking your clit more firmly now as his hand continues its movement in and out of you, barely breaching you before punching in a little further each time. You can see your lower belly bulge and move with each movement of his fist.

"Please," you're begging again. "It's so much. It's too much." You could be begging him to stop, for more, to come, to take it out, you don't know.

"S'too much for your needy little pussy, I know, but I ain't takin' it out 'til you come on it."

"Oh, fuck."

You almost come there and then, but then he's lowering his face back to your pussy, replacing the roll of his fingers with the lick of his tongue.

You start to garble, a blurred mess of words falling from your mouth. You have no clue what you're saying, you just know that you can't stop, can't do anything but focus on the whole fist fucking into your cunt, stuffing you full as he suckles your clit so delicately.

"Stretching you out, no one's gonna wanna use you after this. Goin' to ruin this pretty pussy."

You start begging again. "Please, please ruin me. Ruin my pussy. Please, please." You feel him smile into you clit and you know you're done for.

He latches fully onto you, sucking hard as he flicks his tongue over and over. His hand punches in harder, faster, fucking you and filling you more than anything before. Your insides feel like they're being shifted with each thrust of his fist, your womb jerked forward and back. You're so near, so close and then the hand on your thigh pushes on your belly, feeling each deep punch of his fist as he bottoms out.

The pressure builds and explodes almost instantly, your whole pussy clenching down on his fist, drawing him in with each pulse of your orgasm. Your hips rock, thighs try to clamp shut around his entire body as you scream - scream - into the cavern of his bedroom. He doesn't stop, doesn't relent, fucking his hand into you deeper and deeper as you come undone beneath him.

Only when you stop writhing and your back falls flat against the bed does Joel stop, disengaging from your clit with one final pop, stilling his hand inside you.

He watches as you come down, glassy eyes staring into space as you sigh in the aftermath of the most intense orgasm of your life.

"Was that enough?" he asks you as he kisses along your mound. You're shaking your head before you even realize what you're doing.

"Such a needy hole that even stuffed full of my hand it ain't enough?"

You moan, shaking your head. No. It's not enough. It feels so much, so full, stuffed to the brim, but it's not enough.

"Oh fuck, 'course it's not enough for you, sweetheart. Look how fuckin' greedy she is. You want more fingers?"

"No, no," your head is filled with as much clarity as delirium. You don't know where you are but you know exactly what you want, what you need.

"But you need more, sweetheart," he taunts, pushing his fist into you more.

"Hnnnng. Your cock," you gasp out. "Please. Your cock. I need your cock."

"Not sure you're even gonna be able to feel it after this, but I knew I'd have you beggin' for it sooner or later."

He's tugging his hand from you, gently pulling his entire fist out of your body as you bear down and groan with the pressure. It releases with a wet squelch and you watch as he immediately places it over your mound and lower stomach.

"All of that was in there," he says, almost in disbelief. He looks down at your pussy, still gaping. Thick fingers drag back down, past your over sensitized clit and around your hole, watching as you bring yourself together.

He moves closer to you, moving his slicked hand from your body to his own, covering his length with it as his palm slips over himself with ease, massaging his balls before teasing his tip. It's so angry and red now, desperate for some kind of relief, relief you want to give him.

"If you want it that bad, you're gonna have to put it in."

You grab at him, his cock looking huge in your hand. You line him up, dragging his glistening head through your folds before pushing him to your entrance. You roll your hips, feeling the ridge of him drag across your hole before you rock against him, letting the tip of him breach you. You feel your stretched walls pull around him, letting him in, wanting to swallow him whole.

"That's it sweetheart, you put it in," Joel coos, stroking your thighs as your rock yourself onto his tip. He starts to rock his hips with you, plunging his cock into your further as your hand still grips him.

You want to reach out and touch him. Run your hands across the planes of his body, feel how his muscles stretch and contract with every movement. You're still instead, holding his cock as he fucks it inside you.

"Let go now, let me all the way in." You let go of him, gripping your own thigh instead of pulling him toward you like you so desperately want, and he's bottoming out inside you with a deep groan. His cock retreats almost all the way before plunging back in to the hilt again, and you gasp when his tip collides with your cervix.

He watches your face as he bottoms out each time, eyes locked with yours. You feel so close to him, he's so near, you could just reach out and touch him, hold him to you, kiss him.

Before you know it, the world is spinning. He's pulled out of you and flipped you onto your front, laying you flat on his bed. He pulls your ass cheeks apart, notches himself back at your abused hole and pushes in with one easy movement. You grip the sheets, stifling your gasp into his pillow before he's yanking it away from you.

"Nuh-uh, lemme hear those pretty noises. Sound so good when you're moaning on my cock."

You let him hear you, not holding back a single moan as he fucks into you from behind, his weight heavy on your legs. His body falls forward, and he's threading strong arms under your body, hooking them over your shoulders. He holds you tight, the closest thing to a hug you've ever felt from him, as he pulls you down onto him with every thrust.

You're about to turn your head, turn so you can see him, so he can run his nose along your cheek, but a hand grabs your hair, yanking your head back as he slams his hips down into yours.

"Fuck," he gasps into your ear. "Can you even feel that? Can you even feel my cock?" You can feel every part, every ridge dragging across your insides in ways you've never felt from anyone before. You nod your head, hair tugged in his grip as you move.

"Oh fuck yeah, had my whole fucking fist in you but you're still clenching around my dick."

Your mind is blank, you feel dumb from his cock and his fist, fucked out whilst still being fucked. The best you can do is moan out a garbled "yeah" before going back to unintelligible babbling and moans.

"Good girl. Always takin' it all so well. This pretty pussy'll take anythin' I give her, won't she?" he whispers to you, like it's some kind of secret and not the most obvious thing in the world. He nuzzles your hair - he nuzzles your fucking hair - and you're soaring, floating above the clouds on a high you will never come down from.

"Joel, fuuuck."

He's all around you, warm breath on your face, grunts straight into your ear, the sweat of his chest slick on your back, his broad hands anchoring him down to you. You feel his whole body start to tense, shaking and quivering. His hips stutter, slamming into you hard once, twice more before he groans deep, burying his head in your neck.

His weight relaxes on top of you, pushing all air out of your lungs, but he's gone again before you start to struggle for breath, pulling his cock from your used hole. He spreads you, looking down at your pussy, pink and swollen from being so used, first by his fist and then by his cock. Cum dribbles out of you, down to your clit, and he takes his softening cock, swiping it up your folds and to your ass, squeezing out the last dribbles of his cum and wiping his tip on your ass cheek.

You lie still, hoping he'll lie next to you for a while, but his weight leaves the bed and there's the rustle of his jeans as he pulls them on. Before you can even turn around he's opened the door and left you alone, still dripping his cum.

You flop back down, face into his pillows, mind reeling. He'd been so close, felt so near. You could've reached out and touched him, grabbed him, but you didn't. And then the moment was gone. Every time you got near to something, it was gone before you could make up your mind. You were so frustrated you could scream.

Instead, you bury your head into his pillow and breathe deep, calming yourself.

The bed shifts again soon after. You didn't hear him come back in, but Joel's rough hands are lifting your legs and pulling the fabric of your panties up to your knees before he climbs on top of you and yanks them up the rest of the way. He massages your ass in his hands, smearing the remnants of his cum into your panties with the action before climbing off of you.

"You gotta go," he says, simply.

You turn round immediately, panties crooked and not quite covering your pussy. You scramble for an excuse, a reason to stay.

"What if my clothes are still wet." You want more time. You want to stay longer, cocooned in the warmth of this room. Maybe if you stay longer you'll get to feel the weight of him on top of you again.

"It's still rainin' outside so they'll be wet when you get home anyway," he doesn't look at you as he pulls a t-shirt over his head. "Pills are on the table."

And he's stalking out of the room again. You see him flop down onto the couch and pick up a book, as if nothing had even happened, as if the hand holding the pages open hadn't just been buried in you.

There's a chill in the room as you stand. Your clothes are still wet as you put them on. The pills burn your hand as you pocket them, wanting to do nothing more than throw them back at him. If they were for you, you would.

He doesn't walk you to the door, doesn't see you out. You unlatch it and twist the handle yourself, pulling it open and stepping through.

"You gotta stop lookin' at me so much," he calls out as you go to leave. "Not gonna protect you if some asshole thinks you're one of mine."

You don't turn to look at him, you just leave, slamming the door behind you as you make to walk home in the rain.

You didn't even want him to kiss you anyway.

next part

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