#also I like these short updates so I hope the feeling is mutual

[yunhoszn]

horses are still overrated

pairing jeong yunho x f!reader word count 2k genres fluff﹒smut warnings 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, established relationship, mentions of voyeurism, dirty talk, marking-ish, mutual masturbation, kissing, slight cum eating shhhhh don’t say anything, pet names: baby, babe, princess

summary new relationships always have room for experimenting, and well, you and yunho are no exception.

more ok so i tried doing these in ask format but i didn’t like it so we’re back to our regularly scheduled programming with a little update :P anyway,, this was for this request! it’s meant to be an extension of save a horse, ride a cowboy but can totally be read as a standalone! i kinda strayed from the initial req, but i hope this is still good… it’s still yunho day so <3 ALSO @bro-atz thank u for betaing my love i appreciate u so big!! pls reblog if u enjoyed!

@atzhouse

The few weeks that have passed since you and Yunho have confessed to each other have been nothing short of blissful. 

He makes you feel like you’re soaring, ensuring that your happiness is the top priority. He embraces you in a way that’s not only physical, but emotional too. Like his feelings for you are their own special hug of warmth that envelopes you when you need it most. You could never get tired of him, could never return to your life back home like this summer never happened. 

Because in all honesty, this summer was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to you. 

You have a small smile on your face as you reminisce about the wonderful time you’ve spent here so far, leaning back into the bench on the farmhouse porch. Initially, you were sitting here to openly gawk after Yunho as he rounded up the cattle, but now you were too giddy to pay attention to that. You don’t notice him walking towards you directly, Yeoreum tailing behind him. 

“What’s got you so cheesy today?” 

You blink at his question, feeling a bit bashful. You’ll never get used to this view. “I was just thinking about us, and how happy you make me.”

“That’s cute,” he mirrors your expression, one hand on the back of the bench to hold his weight and the other coming up to cup your jaw, lips pecking yours gently. “Ready for dinner?”

“I have a confession to make,” you start as you’re washing the dishes after dinner. 

“What’s up?” Yunho asks you from the other side of the kitchen, putting away the leftovers. He shuts the refrigerator and leans against it, arms crossed over his chest. You swallow thickly. 

“I’ve just had this on my chest for so long and I need to get it off before I explode,” you ramble, avoiding his eyes as you scrub a plate. “Promise you won’t judge?”

“I promise,” he chuckles, and you can hear his footsteps as he gets closer. “I won’t judge you.”

Your sigh comes out as more of a shudder, Yunho’s arms wrapping around your middle and his chin resting on your shoulder. The new proximity makes you ten times more nervous to say your piece, your heart beating erratically behind your rib cage. This is fine. This is great actually. (No it’s not!)

“Do— um— do you remember the day before Seojun and I broke up?” Your hands are trembling slightly. 

“When you gave Yeoreum a bath, right?” He nods, the movement bothering you slightly because it has his chin digging into your shoulder uncomfortably. “What about it?”

”So…” You have to pause the dishes, your hands clamming up so much that you think the handle of your sponge will fly out of your grasp. “That night, when my lightbulb went out, I actually went out to go grab you. But— uh— I saw something… else… instead…”

Your eyes squeeze shut, entirely too mortified to even think about what his reaction could be. It’s been a minute since the ordeal played out, so really you didn’t have to say anything. Part of you felt like you couldn’t continue this relationship in good conscience without being totally honest, though. 

Strong hands wrap gently around your wrists, turning you around to face him. He tsks, “Open your eyes, princess.”

His eyes are soft, no hint of disappointment or disgust on his features as he stares back at you. His lips curl into a smug smile after a couple seconds, cupping your jaw and caressing your cheek with his thumb. You blink at him, a little confused by the shift in atmosphere, but not complaining. 

“You’re not—?” 

“You watched me fuck my fist, is that right?” Yunho asks so bluntly, so vulgarly. “Tell me, what did you do after that?”

It’s easy to divert your gaze again, focusing on how interesting the material of his button up suddenly is. It’s one thing to admit that you stood there and watched for a bit, it’s another to admit you stuffed yourself with your own fingers not even fifteen minutes later. But you think he already knows that, based on your behavior and some good ol’ context clues. 

“I… I touched myself,” you whimper, ashamed of how you’re getting turned on. The worst part is the fact that he’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying the way he has you folding for him so quickly. “To the thought of you…”

Yunho’s grip on your chin tightens and his eyes flutter shut with a groan. “Fuck, baby, that’s so hot…”

You weren’t sure how this would go, and a piece of you genuinely thought he might even end things with you. Any other person would think you were sick and perverted, but not him. It makes you feel a lot better and a lot more secure in your relationship. 

Your tongue pokes out of the corner of your mouth, grazing the pad of his thumb. He hisses, cursing under his breath, letting you wrap your lips around and suck the finger. Yunho stares with not a single coherent thought behind his eyes. He’s losing his composure, pressing his thumb down on your tongue. 

“Do you think you can tell me? How exactly did you touch yourself?” He purses his lips, his free hand slipping into the opening of your overalls, dragging his finger along the exposed skin of your waist. You shake your head with a whine.

”Yun… That’s embarrassing…” 

He pulls his hand out of your overalls, hooking the digit into your belt loop and yanking you closer. His mouth is dangerously near your own, lips brushing yours when he speaks. “I wanna know. Need to picture my pretty princess fucking herself desperately ‘cause her fingers aren’t enough to get her off.”

Your legs feel like jelly, your cunt clenching around nothing just by his words alone. Yunho had always done such a good job at being the sweet and doting partner everyone wanted. He was attentive, praised you like you were a living, breathing goddess. But this dirty side of him is different. And you like it a lot more than you should.

“O-Okay…” You swallow thickly, and suddenly he’s spinning you so his chest is to your back. He urges you towards the bedroom, attaching his lips to your neck and sucking the supple skin gently, tenderly.

”Go on,” he says between kisses, still pushing you until you’re standing in the middle of his room. Your eyes already feel heavy and you haven’t done anything yet. “Tell me.”

”I— um— I thought about your hands and how big they are,” your tone is shaky, and you hope you don’t sound stupid. “Thought about how good it would feel to have them all over me. I pictured that it was your fingers inside of me. Imagined your cock, and how big it is.”

“Is that so? I’m just not getting the visual, babe. I think I need you to show me.” He hums, a hint of amusement in his voice. As if this couldn’t get more embarrassing, now he wants you to finger yourself in front of him? You’re about to protest, but he’s pressing your lower back to the mattress and talking against the corner of your mouth again, teasing you because he knows he can. “If you’re good for me, I’ll fuck you so well, you won’t be able to forget the shape of my cock.”

You nod with a whimper, hopping onto the bed and scooting all the way up to the pillows. Your hands are wobbly as you undress yourself, unbuckling your overalls and kicking them off your feet. Of course you chose the worst day to dress the part. Yunho sits at the edge, watching you with an unreadable expression. 

When you’re in nothing but your top and panties, he clears his throat, leaning back onto his palms. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Move your underwear to the side for me, princess. Let me see your pretty pussy.”

It’s almost impossible to hold back a moan, following his instructions. You glide your middle finger through your folds, showcasing how you’re practically dripping for him in the amount of time it’s taken you to get from the kitchen to here. He exhales through his nose, legs spreading to give you a glimpse of an uncomfortable looking bulge in his pants. 

You sigh deeply at the sight, circling your finger around your clit slowly. The thought of being the cause behind it, of getting Yunho so hot and bothered, drives you crazy and has you curling your toes. 

“Just like that,” he encourages, tossing his denim button up to the floor. He palms over his erection, tilting his head slightly. “Can you do some more for me?”

“Mhm,” is all you can manage to force out, doing what he asked. You shove your ring and middle fingers inside of yourself, finally releasing a moan at the intrusion. You keep pressure on your clit with the heel of your palm. There’s silence between you save for the occasional whine.

Yunho shivers, shimmying out of his pants so he can stroke himself freely. You gawk at him with bated breath, biting your lip as your fingers pick up their pace. There’s a knot that settles in the pit of your stomach, tightening and tightening in preparation for that special moment. 

The view of him spread out in front of you, fucking up into his hand with hooded eyes trained on your own playing with your cunt, is too much. He’s wearing that same godforsaken white tank top as he was the night you saw him, the muscles in his forearm and bicep flexing with each twist of his wrist, each pump of his cock. 

You feel like you’re drooling, ogling at him like he was a piece of meat. But you couldn’t help it. Yunho was the most attractive man you’d ever laid eyes on. The longer you stare, the further you fall. That’s a conclusion you’ve come to a little too late. 

“‘M close, Yun,” you moan, arching your back off of the pillows, head almost clunking against the headboard. “Wanna cum with you.”

“I’m almost there, too, baby,” he grunts, teeth gritted as he runs his thumb over his slit. That has a loud whine spilling from your lips, your feet digging into the mattress. You don’t know how much longer you can last. 

Your fingers try to reach that spongy, sensitive spot deep in your cunt, but you can’t. It seems that only Yunho’s long, thick fingers could accomplish that feat. No wonder you were so obsessed with his hands.

You opt for using the fingers of your free hand to swipe quickly at your clit while the others curl and thrust into you, inching you toward that steep cliff that has stars decorating your vision. Judging by the volume of his sounds getting higher and higher, you can tell Yunho’s right there with you. 

One particular absentminded curse from him has your brain short circuiting, that promise of release washing over you almost violently. Your body aches and quivers, orgasming harder than you ever had just with your own hand. (You’d like to think the presence of a certain cowboy had everything to do with it.)

He groans and follows behind shortly after, painting his hand in milky white. The two of you try to catch your breaths, laying there for a couple moments to recuperate. After a while, Yunho leans over to kiss you gently, squeezing your cheeks with his cum covered hand. You scrunch your nose. 

“You’re getting it on my face!”

“That was the goal,” he laughs, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips. You roll your eyes, licking away whatever was near your mouth. He groans again. “Fuck, are you trying to kill me? Purposely?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I remember being told you’d fuck me if I did good for you. Where’s my reward?”

“Trust me, I didn’t forget.”

© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[joelscruff]

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.

[starlazergazer]

Figure Something Out

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request: I was wondering if you could make a enemies to lover where Anakin is madly in love with reader but wont admit it since he likes to mock and annoy her but the reader doesnt, like there are but they arent as strong as Anakins. So as time passes she starts to catch feelings for him and ends in fluff but its a little angsty too yk

Warnings: Swearing, Anakin being a bit of dick

Word Count: 7.5k (sorry not sorry we love a slow burn enemies/academic rivals to lovers)

A/N: Check the blog for a little update if you want but I really hope this was worth the wait! As always please please let me know what you think!

Your eyes bounced fervently back and forth between your master’s and Anakin’s, not even bothering to hide the shock you were sure was etched into your expression. “You can’t be serious”

“Do I look like I’m joking” came your master’s quick reply, his tone alone enough to scold you for your loss in decorum, your posture snapping up reflexively as you schooled your face back to a more natural expression, unable to keep yourself from getting defensive.

“I just mean-“ the hurried deflection rolled off your tongue before you could stop it, your master’s unamused glare enough to keep the words from fully coming out. Taking a deep breath, you tried to better control yourself before you continued. “he’s a padawan, same seniority as me how could he train me?”

“He’s also standing right here” Anakin’s gruff voice proved he was just as thrilled about this assignment as you, though you barely spared him a glance, keeping your gaze locked onto your master’s, a silent plea for him to take it back.

“Padawan Skywalker is the best padawan with a saber by leagues I think he could be of great help to you” And you knew that tone your master used here, one he reserved to tell you he was done discussing the matter.

Dejectedly you finally let your gaze slip over to Anakin’s, offering him a tight-lipped smile “I appreciate your help Padawan Skywalker” you nearly choked on the words, having to force them out of your throat.

Anakin in response said nothing, his arms crossed defensively over his chest as he let his eyes rake your figure quickly, letting your words hang uncomfortably in the air until your master finally broke the silence.

“Truly padawan Skywalker we appreciate everything you do for us” He offered a small nod, clapping Anakin on the back.

“Of course master Koon” and you didn’t miss the way he offered your master a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, nor the way he was happy to return a comment to your master’s thanks but not your own. The two of you were already off to a great start to what was bound to be a very short apprenticeship.

With a small nod back in return Master Koon took his leave, leaving you and Anakin alone in the hallway, you looking up at the padawan expectantly, him pointedly avoiding your gaze as much as possible.

“Look” you drew his attention back to you with a sigh “neither of us want to be doing this so how about we just forget this and go our separate ways?”

He raised an eyebrow up at you in response, clearly unimpressed by your proposed solution “I told Master Koon I would help”

“And how noble of you to do so” you replied with a huff, crossing your arms over your chest to match his posture “but since you clearly want to spend as much time with me as I do you this felt mutually beneficial”

“I’ve seen you fight” he responded back with a small shake of his head “you very obviously do need the help”

“Believe me you’ve made it abundantly clear what you think of my fighting skills in training” you replied with a bitter laugh.

“When it takes your opponent less than a minute to get your saber out of your hand it’s hard to keep my comments to myself”

“It does not-“ and you cut yourself off before you could properly blow up, Anakin always having this weird affect on you, pushing you over the edge with little more than a tap. You weren’t letting him get to you that easily this time. With a deep breath you tried to collect yourself “Fine, when do you want to start?”

Anakin paused for a moment, doing nothing but survey you, probably curious as to why you hadn’t started biting his head off yet, but nonetheless continued “after dinner tonight, now come on we have battle strategies with master Kenobi”

“You were asked to help me train with my lightsaber, doesn’t mean you have to walk me to class from now on” you huffed but followed him down the hallway nonetheless.

“Then start jogging and we’ll call this training too” he answered with a shrug.

-

You sat back trying to listen to Obi-wan’s lecture, finding yourself for the first time ever in this class unable to pay attention to the lecture, instead your focused was solely on the person next to you.

Anakin has spent the last several years making his feelings towards you abundantly clear. If the chiding remarks, the mocking comments, the downright insults were anything to go by then you could easily say that he didn’t seem to like you that much. And you had to say by this point the feeling was mutual.

He’d spent all of his time in this class in particular sitting on the other side of the room, pointedly the chair that was just about as far away from you as possible, something you were sure the rest of the padawan’s had picked up on by this point. And that would explain why now that he not only showed up to class with you in tow but took a seat next to your usual one the entire rooms attention seemed to subtly shift in your direction.

Not that the room’s attention wasn’t usually in his direction if you were being honest. Anakin was the jedi council’s golden boy, the prophetic child that would bring balance to the force, as well as being a hell of a fighter with his light saber, and if you were being totally objective he wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes. All of this meant he had a natural sort of charisma that seemed to draw the unconscious attentive weight of a room in his direction, a weight that now sat squarely on your shoulders as well.

This new attention combined with Anakin’s incessant knee bouncing meant your focus was on just about anything but the lecture at hand.

“You know you don’t need to babysit me in every other part of jedi training” you whispered over to him, Anakin’s knee bouncing harmlessly against yours as he leaned in to listen and you fought the urge to pull your own back. Afterall this was your desk you weren’t about to contort yourself so he could be more comfortable.

“Is this why you need my help?” he responded with an annoying smirk, leaning in even more as he whispered “because you struggle to pay attention in class?”

You narrowed your eyes back at him in response “I’ll have you know-“

“Padawan Y/L/N, Skywalker” Obi-wan’s unamused voice broke through your whisper sharply, freezing you in place, your face now uncomfortably close to Anakin’s as every eye turned towards the two of you “is there something you would like to share with the class”

“no Master” Anakin answered quickly, righting himself just as you did.

“Perhaps some insight on the battle then?” Obi-wan goaded, gesturing to the holomap before him, amusement sparkling in his eyes as he watched his padawan squirm beneath his gaze.

“Well I-“ you could hear the lost tone in Anakin’s voice as he desperately searched for something to say, you having half a mind to let him sit in the hot seat before you let your eyes roam over the map, happy to see that you recognized the battle Obi-wan was walking you through.

“The republic’s army comes from behind” you offered before things could get too awkward, feeling Anakin’s gaze snap in your direction as you spoke “on that ridge over there, flanking the enemy forcing them to surrender”

Obi-wan’s gaze turned to yours with a warm smile as he nodded, no doubt knowing you would know the answer even if you hadn’t been paying complete attention, before he flicked it back to his padawan, raising his eyebrows slightly as he spoke “very good padawan Y/L/N”

He held Anakin’s gaze for a moment longer, an unspoken conversation happening between the two of them before Obi-wan continued lecture like usual, turning back to face the rest of the room.

Taking the opportunity you leaned back towards Anakin again “if there’s one thing I don’t need your help with, it’s this class”

The smirk made another appearance on his mouth as he looked down at you, but this one felt different than before, warmer somehow, as he nodded “noted princess”

-

Whatever confidence you had bolstered from battle strategies quickly left you the minute you got to saber training.

Anakin was already in the center of the room, feet planted squarely on the mat as he spun his saber effortlessly around his body, concentration etched onto his face though you could tell even from across the room that he was just having fun with it. What you wouldn’t give to be able to whip your saber around with such precision that it seemed almost careless.

“You gonna come fight or having too much fun back there enjoying the show?”

You detested the amusement in his voice as you realized you’d spent much too long staring at him from the doorway. Unable to think of much of a response, you immediately cast your gaze down to your shoes, blindly making your way towards the mat, unclipping the saber from your belt.

“What no training sticks?” You asked with a bitter laugh as you turned on your lightsaber, giving it a half hearted twirl in your hand as you set your stance.

“Don’t worry I’ll try not to hurt you” he winked back as he did the same, making you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

You waited for him to make the first attack, the two of you spinning in a circle around one another, each waiting for the other to strike first.

Not once did that stupid smirk fall from his face, frustration rising more and more within you with each step until you couldn’t take it anymore, deciding to suck it up and make the first move.

Swinging your saber down at him Anakin deflected the blow with little more than a flick of his wrist, barely moving from his original position no doubt in an attempt to show you how easily he could win if he wanted to. Fine, if that’s how he wants to play it.

You barely gave yourself time to recover before making another swing, Anakin deflecting with another simple movement, but you were back at it. Blow after blow Anakin’s saber met yours at every thrust effortlessly, but still you push forward, kept getting closer, not even noting that Anakin never bothered to take a step back. Not noticing how close you got to him until his empty hand shot out mid swing, capturing your wrist and disarming you with a twist, your saber now held tightly in his hand.

Before you could even comprehend what had happened he yanked hard on your arm, twisting you wildly until your back came crashing against his chest, one arm holding your saber and wrapping around your waist to pin you against him the other pressing his blade right up against your throat.

You could’ve screamed in frustration, at how easily he had pinned you, at how effortlessly he seemed to be able to block everything you threw at him, at how close and vulnerable you were now that he had you now pinned against him.

“What is this some game for you? Are you just toying with me?” You spat back at him, not bothering to hide the anger in your voice.

You heard a deep chuckle from behind you, could feel it ruminate up through his chest as it pressed you even further into his chest before he spoke, voice low and right in your ear, his breath tickling the shell of it with each word “I’m teaching you princess. Now use that big brain of yours and figure something out”

And you could’ve laughed at his so called advice, at how easy it is to tell someone to figure something out when you didn’t have a saber against your throat.

Instead you decided you were done fucking around.

Picking your foot up you slammed it down hard on the jedi’s left foot at the same time rearing your head back harshly to make contact with his nose, both attacks catching Anakin enough by surprise that he released his hold on you, stumbling back and releasing his grip on your saber enough that you could slip it from his grasp, pivoting on the spot and pointing the tip of the blade right at the jedi’s throat.

Anakin in response held his nose in his hand, pinching the bridge of it as he completely ignored your saber pointed at him, giving you a disappointed glare from overtop of it.

He sniffed and wiggled his nose before shaking his head and bating off your saber with his own half-heartedly “you know that trick won’t work anywhere but here”

“Good thing I don’t need it to work anywhere but here” you returned with a smirk, stepping back a few feet before dropping back into a fighting stance.

Anakin offered nothing more than a disappointed sigh before he dropped into a stance of his own, giving his nose one last check before he launched forward to attack.

You had no problem dodging each of his blows, your body always out of the way of the arc of his saber. The issue arose when it came to deflecting them. Swing after swing your saber was always there to meet his but the effort of stopping each of the jedi’s much more powerful swings had your arms shaking after mere minutes, your feet scrambling back to try and avoid the brunt of each blow as much as possible.

Anakin, however, seemed to zero in on your weakness immediately, never relenting as he swung again and again. You in response started to try and redirect each blow, hoping that redirecting the power of the swing would take the load off your arms.

That was until his saber seemed to hit yours at just the right speed, just the right angle, that the force of it reverberated down to your hands, your grip faltering for just a second but it was enough to have the cool metal of the hilt of your saber slip from your grasp.

Anakin hit immediately with another blow, effectively knocking your saber out of your hands.

You watched dejectedly as your saber slid out from your grasp and flew across the room. With a small sigh you held your empty hands up defensively ready for Anakin to sheath his saber and start listing off all the things you did wrong.

Instead you watched as Anakin stayed rigid in his position, lightsaber still held in front of you, knees still bent ready to strike.

“I get it, you win, I’ll get ‘em next time” you pushed mock enthusiasm into your voice as you started to make your way off the mat in the direction you saw your saber go when a blue column of light swung down just in front of you, barring your movement.

“So in an actual battle your plan is just to give up when you lose your lightsaber?” Anakin’s chiding voice had you gritting your teeth as your head snapped in his direction, little more than an amused smirk on his face as he talked “maybe offer your neck to the sith for an easy decapitation”

“No I’ll-“ frustrated words died in your throat as you sought an end for your sentence. You were tired, sweat had your robes sticking to your torso uncomfortably and every muscle you had burned, now was not the time for his mind games.

“You’ll what?” he pushed forwards, retracting his lightsaber so it now was held in that defensive position you were now all to used to seeing him in.

“I don’t know I’ll figure something out” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Then figure something out” he goaded with a raised brow before striking, his saber moving slightly slower than you knew he was capable of, giving you plenty of time to side step out of the way.

“Okay I get it” you called back to him as you dodged another swing, taking a step back towards the edge of the mat “you’ve made your point”

“I’ve made my point when you stop thinking of this as just training” he shot back with another swing of his saber, pushing forward forcing you to take another step back “this isn’t just to get through training so you can advance in the jedi ranks this is about survival” another swing, another dodge and another step back “this is about making sure you stand a chance out on the battle field” you felt the floor beneath your heels start to give way, your toes balancing on the edge of the mat “this isn’t some game Y/N”

You felt your irritation grow within you with each word. You knew this wasn’t some game, you had been outside of the walls of the temple, you had been on a battle field, you knew you needed help with your fighting skills but who was he to decide after one day that you weren’t taking this seriously enough.

You watched as he set up for his next attack, as his foot landed far out in front of him as he lunged forward, the whole world seeming to slow around you as you side stepped the saber, Anakin’s hand sailing past you effortlessly. Without a second thought you seized his wrist, giving it a small twist in the wrong direction as you pulled him forward with it, effectively knocking the jedi off his balance.

Before he could realize what was happening Anakin was sailing forward, past you, to the ground below as you pivoted around to face him from atop the mat, his lightsaber now clutched firmly in your grasp.

Spinning slightly in the air so that his shoulder first made contact with the floor Anakin slid a few inches on the ground, coming to a stop on his back and looking up at you only to see his own lightsaber pointed down at his throat.

“Do you want to offer up your neck for an easy decapitation now?”

And to your surprise you heard nothing back but a laugh. A sound you didn’t think Anakin Skywalker was even capable of.

“That was good Y/N”

You felt your feet faulter beneath you, your knees nearly giving out, was that a compliment?

Your mind was still reeling as you shut down his saber and dropped it to the ground next to you, because Anakin Skywalker did not compliment you. Tease, chastise, bully sure he did all of those things but never compliment. And he certainly didn’t smile at you like he was doing now.

It was a weird sight to see, Anakin grinning from the ground below you, eyes twinkling slightly as his whole face changed with it, and to your horror you found a part of you liking the way it looked on him, as he extended his hand out to you.

Before you could even think better of it you reached out and grabbed his hand, helping to haul him to his feet, ignoring the slight tingle his touch left on your skin, blaming the way your cheeks felt hot beneath his gaze on the exertion of fighting him.

“You may never overpower your opponent but you’re fast” Anakin continued on as if nothing had changed, dusting himself off, the hint of a smile still playing on his lips as he talked “use that, dodge until you have them making sloppy attacks then strike as soon as you can”

It took you too long to notice that he was waiting for you to say something, little more coming out of your mouth than a half-hearted “yeah” that had his brows drawing in confusion.

Stooping slightly, he came down to your eyelevel, nose nearly close enough to touch your own, and for a brief moment staring deeply into each eye before shaking his head softly “that was probably too much for today wasn’t it”

Still you didn’t respond, not sure if you could’ve if you tried, for some reason unable to pull your gaze from Anakin as he looked at you, fluffy hair framing his face perfectly as if you hadn’t spent the last two hours dueling, as if you weren’t drenched in sweat.

Anakin frowned back in response, a single hand coming out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before he could think better of it. Then bending down and picking up his lightsaber from where you had dropped it “get some rest princess”

He spoke softly, softer than you had ever really heard him speak before he started to make his way towards the exit, leaving you standing on the edge of the mat, before he called out “I mean it, you did well today”

It was only after he left that it dawned on you, he had used your actual name.

-

Maybe it was naive of you to think that things could change so quickly.

That all it took was one decent lesson from him and the two of you could seamlessly slip into a weird sort of friendship.

Maybe you just wanted to believe you could put everything behind you so easily that you assumed he wanted to do the same.

You’d heard people gush about Anakin Skywalker before. About how helpful he could be, how nice, how charming.

You never got to meet that side of Anakin Skywalker, the man locking that part of himself from you practically the moment he met you. But you had really thought you were starting to see it these past few weeks.

The teasing comments had started to disappear, or they at least lost all their edge, coming off as more inside jokes than anything. He walked you to class every day, some days going out of his way to find you before he started to head in that direction. Your personal space found itself being invaded by him more and more, Anakin no longer going out of his way to put as much distance between the two of you as possible. Lingering touches, wandering eyes, inside jokes that had the two of you seeking out each others gaze in crowded rooms to silently revel in what was just said in a way only the two of you would understand.

Anakin Skywalker was quickly becoming your friend.

It was why when you got notified you were heading out on a mission to track down a bounty hunter with him for the first time ever you weren’t dreading the experience.

No you were actually excited.

Excited as you clipped your saber to your belt and headed out of your room.

Excited as you rounded the corner to head to your transport ship.

Excited as you stepped foot on the entrance ramp.

Excited as-

“I just don’t understand why she has to come with me”

It was as if a lead ball had dropped into your stomach. The excitement evaporating on the spot as a numbness took over and your step faltered, your body freezing in place just steps down from the ships entrance.

Because you knew that voice, but even worse you knew that tone. The anger, the contempt, the annoyance.

All it took was one simple phrase and you were ripped back into the same existence of just weeks ago before you had fallen for all of Anakin Skywalkers tricks.

“I agreed to train her and I’ve been doing that why does she have to hijack my missions now”

And you wished you could say his words didn’t affect you. Afterall just a few weeks ago you would’ve expected to hear them from him, you’d practically grown up hearing this resentment for merely existing in his vicinity.

Then why did they hurt so much now?

Why did they have a painful lump starting to grow in your throat?

Why did they make you wish the ground would swallow you whole on the spot?

Why did you ever think you could be friends with Anakin Skywalker?

“Yes master”

Anakin’s final words snapped you from your daze but still you had to force your legs to move you forward slowly, making sure that as Obi-wan exited the ship you were an appropriate distance back from the entrance.

He gave you a kind smile as he exited. As easy as it would have been to resent Obi-wan due to his proximity to Anakin you could never bring it upon yourself. “May the force be with you Y/N” he offered you with a small head bow.

“Thank you master Kenobi” you responded easily, mirroring his bow.

And he looked like he wanted to say more. Perhaps apologize for his padawan, perhaps offer parting words of wisdom, instead he seemed to swallow them, giving you one more slightly tense smile before departing, leaving you with no where to go but up the ramp.

Anakin’s eyes were on you the second you came into view, his face morphing too easily into a soft, friendly smile. “Hey, you ready?”

And it was the way he could flip the switch so easily, act so flawlessly that everything was okay, so effortlessly at ease.

Weeks ago you would have bit back, would’ve offered back some scathing comment, some backhanded remark. It was one thing that kept you from outright hating the young Skywalker. For every insult he spat you always had one to hurl back at him. He could insult you, berate you, belittle you, but you always came back swinging.

Right now though you didn’t have it in you.

You offered nothing more than a small nod of your head, not missing the way his smile morphed into a frown at it.

Maybe he was expecting you to say something, maybe he was gearing up for a fight, maybe he really thought you hadn’t heard him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care what was running through his head at this moment.

You brushed past him towards the cockpit not missing the way his eyes never left you as you did so, not missing the way his hand hovered just over your arm, not missing the way he so hesitantly followed you.

You just had to get through this one mission and you could go back to ignoring Anakin Skywalker.

You weren’t as excited for that prospect as you thought you would be.

-

An involuntary hiss slipped past your lips the second your left foot hit the ground, your weight quickly shifting back to your right to avoid the pain, overcorrecting just enough to knock yourself off balance, all weight balanced dangerously on the edge of one foot as your arms reached out half-hazardly seeking anything solid to steady yourself.

Just before you could tip over another body slotted itself beside you, shoulders fluidly depositing themselves beneath your arm as another arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into Anakin’s slide as he swore quietly “I told you to stay put”

You laughed bitterly at that, forcing yourself to lean back away from him as much as possible even as the arm on your waist tightened, his other hand clipping his saber to his belt so that it could come up and grab the hand he had thrown around his shoulders, effectively pinning you to his side as he started to drag you back to the wall “Yeah sure so you can just leave me”

You felt him still at your words, the grip on your hand and waist slackening for a second as your words seemed to hit him physically, your position keeping you from properly viewing his face as his voice came out softer than you had ever heard him “I wouldn’t do that”

His tone caught you by surprise. If there was one thing you knew about Anakin Skywalker it was that the man was loud, the way he carried himself, spoke, hell the way he flew reeked of confidence to the point of arrogance. Anakin was anything but the soft, almost vulnerable tone that just left him.

And you felt a part of you already starting to reach out to him, ready to pull him into your side and assure him that you knew that, assure him that you knew he was a good person, to tell him that you trusted him.

But another part of you couldn’t give up the way he tried bench you. How after everything you had been through: all the training, the way he seemed to go out of his way to be nice to you lately, how everything seemed to be looking up, he still thought you were nothing more than a nuisance, a less than.

Less than capable, less than a good jedi, less than an apt fighter, less than worthy of his trust.

His motion continued after the brief pause, the two of you finally reaching the wall and Anakin taking care to slowly set you down against it, a hand supporting your calf as you squatted down, careful to keep your foot off the ground.

“You’re right that’s probably a touch too far even for you, so instead you want to what scold me for getting in your way? Tell me I’m a shitty jedi for getting myself injured? Pull my hair and call me ugly?”

Anakin only sighed in response, one hand coming up to tangle his fingers in his hair as the other planted on his hip, Anakin doing nothing but looking down at you in your position on the floor. “why are you always so determined to see the worst in me?”

Again the softness in his tone gave you pause, the sincerity in it something you had only gotten used to in the past few weeks. “Anakin that’s all you’ve ever shown me”

“not lately” his reply came out rushed, a note of exasperation crawling its way onto his voice “lately we were good. At least I thought we were good”

You debated your next words for a second, debated how much vulnerability you were ready to show to the man who has been nothing but hot and cold with you for the past few weeks “I thought we were too”

“so what happened?”

“You tried to get me kicked off this mission” your answer was quick and blunt, eyes immediately picking up on the way his brow furrowed “don’t even try to deny it I heard you-“

“No that’s not-“ he cut you off quickly, letting out a frustrated sigh before continuing “I was trying to do the right thing”

“The right thing?” you echoed back now furrowing your own brow.

“You coming here was an unnecessary risk-“

“ah so you still don’t trust me” you interjected quickly, watching closely the way his entire body seemed to recoil at your words.

“What no-“

“we’ve spent weeks training, you’ve given me good advice, I’ve gotten better you’ve said so yourself. So I don’t get why you still don’t-“

“it’s not that-“

“So then what you still can’t stand to be alone with me for that long?”

“Y/N!” he finally cut you off with a small shout, crouching down in front of you close enough that he nearly occupied your entire field of vision, physically forcing you to pay attention to him rather than let your mind run any longer. “I was just trying to protect you”

Your eyes bounced back and forth between his for a moment, trying to decern the truth, trying to find the underlying meaning. “I don’t know why you think I need your protection. I can handle myself”

Another dejected sigh from Anakin, neither of you moving for a tense few seconds before you heard a muttered “forget it” underneath his breath as he pushed himself up to a standing position.

“we need to get out of here” he offered a hand to you, helping you stand though kept his gaze planted on the back door of the building “we’ll stick to the alleyways and use nothing but blasters if we have to, the sabers will be a dead giveaway”

And though you wanted to push the subject more you knew he was right, get yourself through this mission and you could go back to avoiding Anakin Skywalker. It had quickly become a mantra for you.

You let him pull you softly out the back door, Anakin carefully checking around each corner before ushering you forward, helping you hobble on your one good leg slowly back towards your ship. That was until you heard an eerily familiar voice around the next bend.

“Find the jedi scum and bring them to me. The separatists have plans so I want them alive do you understand me?”

Anakin didn’t hesitate before pushing you back against the nearest wall, using his own body to try and shield yours from view as he pinned you against it, one arm bracing himself against it just over your head.

You looked up at him with wide eyes as the two of you listened intently, footsteps slowly drawing much too close for your comfort.

From this distance you could clearly see the set in Anakin’s jaw as he kept his eyes planted at the nearest corner, muscles tense ready to pounce at a moments notice. That was when the thought struck you.

“Quick kiss me”

Anakin’s entire body froze at your words, his eyes snapping to meet yours blown wide in confusion and shock.

“Come across two people kissing in an alleyway they’re certainly not going to expect them to be jedi so quick” You explained in a harsh whisper, giving his robes a quick tug.

Anakin, however, stayed rooted in place, elbow on his arm planted on the wall locking in place to prevent him from getting any closer to you, wide eyes cemented on your face as his chest didn’t even rise with breath.

“Ani quick” you hissed, trying to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.

The footsteps continued to grow louder, the soft drag of a heel against the pavement your only indication that they were steps away from your hiding spot.

Anakin still didn’t respond, gave no indication that he had heard you after your first command. To no avail you tried to silently beg him to move with your eyes.

“Hey what’re you-“

That was all you let them get out before you made your next decision, grabbing for the blaster on Anakin’s hip you aimed and fired, the shot hitting them square in the forehead sending the hunter to the ground before they could even finish their question.

The blaster noise seemed to finally snap Anakin out of it, a soft shake to the Jedi’s head being the only indication that anything had been wrong as he wordlessly pushed himself off of you and snapped his gaze down to the dead man before you.

“What the fuck was that Anakin?” You hissed, giving his chest a small shove.

Anakin’s eyes, however, never strayed from the unconscious body beneath your feet, his chest heaving with each breath as he kept his jaw locked in place.

“Anakin” you tried calling his name again, another push to his chest, still his eyes never strayed from the ground, his body staggering slightly as he let you push him “you blew our cover and because what? You’re so disgusted by me you can’t put up with one stupid kiss for half a second?”

Finally you got a reaction, his stark blue eyes finally snapping up to meet yours, a steel hard gaze you weren’t entirely prepared for, eyes that begged you to drop it.

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at his look, limping a few steps back from him as you shook your head, the heels of your palms coming up to dig tiredly into your eyes “Even after all that’s happened you really still hate me so much you’d jeopardize the mission to get out of a kiss”

“It can’t happen like that” His voice surprised you, the words in of themselves confusing but his tone throwing you off more than anything, an almost pained ring in it sending you sparling.

“What?”

A quiet swear from under his breath as he started to pace “Our first” he called louder, as if that were an  explanation, his hands clenching at his sides “It shouldn’t happen like that, it can’t”

And you could feel the frustration start to rise within you, the anger from his inaction ebbing to confusion “Ani slow down what is happening right now”

The nickname seemed to have the desired effect, his pace slowing to a soft stop, eyes snapping up to meet yours once again, an almost guilty expression on his face as he stood before you, Anakin Skywalker looking almost small before you for the first time ever “Do you know how many times I’ve thought of it?” he asked you softly, an anxious hand running through his hair as his eyes broke to look at anything but you “How many times I almost just-“ and he cut himself off with a sigh, a soft shake in his head as he looked down at his shoes, a small scoff escaping before he continued “to think that the first time it would happen was to maintain some stupid cover. That it didn’t mean anything. I couldn’t do it”

A part of your brain was lighting up with realization, another part pushing it back down with denial. He couldn’t be talking about kissing you, not now, not after sending you years of signals that said otherwise “Anakin what are you saying?”

His eyes connected with yours again, a pained expression and a small tilt of his head telling you to stop pretending you didn’t know, begging you to move past faking obliviousness.

But still a part of you was reeling back, sending a huff of air through your nose as you shook your head “How many times could you have really thought about it, you just started being nice to me a week ago”

“Years worth” the words came out on his next exhale, a small shrug in his shoulder as he answered “at least since we were nine”

But that didn’t make any sense, that couldn’t possibly be true “This isn’t funny”

A small bitter laugh escaped him in response, a soft shake of his head as he spoke “believe me sweetheart I’m not laughing”

You barely registered the words, your mind already reeling as it went over every thing he’s ever said to you since then, “you’ve been nothing but mean to me since I’ve met you” your words were soft, spoken more to yourself than to him but still Anakin opened his mouth to respond, your voice cutting him off before he could “always criticizing me in front of the masters, mocking my attempts to learn, making me doubt my own abilities”

“I’m sorry”

And some part of your brain registered that those were not words Anakin used lightly, knew the weight those words held for him. Another part knew it still wasn’t enough.

“You’re sorry?” You scoffed “you made me dread every moment I had to spend in your presence for years and the best you have is I’m sorry?”

Anakin had no response to that, his jaw visibly clenching as he fought to maintain eye contact with you, but no words came, he had no excuse, no real way to make up for it, and you both knew it.

“Why?” and the question shouldn’t matter to you, the ends didn’t justify the means, they couldn’t, but still you needed to know.

Anakin took a second, drawing in a deep breath as his gaze shifted to your feet, a small shrug of one shoulder before he answered “I wanted to get your attention”

And like that you were ready to start yelling again, because surely it wasn’t that simple, surely Anakin wasn’t that stupid, that childish. Instead, he continued on.

“I don’t think I realized that was what it was at first, just knew I liked it when you got in my face and pushed back, liked when you got so wrapped up in me that the rest of the world ceased to exist for a little bit” another pause, another deep breath “then once I figured it out I knew I needed to shut it down, the code meant I couldn’t get close, couldn’t form attachments. Pissing you off felt like a good way to keep you at arm’s length while still getting you to notice me”

A million different emotions swirled around inside of you, each trying to claw their way to the surface. You wanted to yell at him, tell him how stupid that was, berate him for having the emotional regulation skills of a child. You wanted to stay silent, let him stew in his miserly, in his guilt. You wanted to cry, the catharsis, the confusion, the mix of conflicting emotions all welling up inside of you, overwhelming you.

Instead, you spoke softly, your voice sounding almost hollow on your own ears “you know when you first came to the temple all the other kid’s thought you were weird”

Anakin’s gaze shot up to meet yours, a slight furrow in his brow as he tried to figure out where you were going with this.

“Looking back I think they were just jealous. You came in later than the rest of us but you already had a master, Obi-wan Kenobi at that, and you already had the councils attention, so they all tried to stay away from you” you took a deep breath, swallowing down the slight shake in it “I thought that was dumb and that I was going to be your friend so I went up to you and I was nice. And at first I thought you were nice. Maker I was so excited to make a new friend and then the next time I saw you it was like a switch had been flipped” Anakin’s disappointed sigh barely registered as you continued “so I tried to be funny, then entertaining, then chill. I tried everything I could to be someone who was worth your time”

You could practically hear Anakin’s teeth grinding as he clenched his fist at his side, leaning back to slump against the wall as he thought for a moment before speaking.

“When I first got to the temple I was scared.” He admitted softly, gaze casted out blankly to the wall on the other side of the alley “I had just lost Qui-Gon, the council didn’t seem to like me, I missed my mother. Then out of nowhere this beautiful girl my age came up to me, took my hand and told me that it was going to be okay, that I was going to be okay, and she said it with such conviction that I couldn’t help but believe her”

You waited with bated breath for him to go on, for him to fill in the gaps of your own story.

“Then what the council said to me about fear hit and I became ashamed of having been a coward, ashamed of needing someone to hold my hand, ashamed of being weak”

You couldn’t have stopped the small chuckle from escaping if you had tried “Anakin you are a lot of things but weak isn’t one of them”

He finally met your gaze at the sound, the corner of his lips tilting up in response “I certainly made sure it appeared that way”

Another silence blanketed the two of you as you each digested the others story, Anakin finally breaking it with a soft chuckle “you were an intimidating kid you know that?”

“I was not” you denied it with an easy shake of your head, barely giving the statement any thought.

“you were” he persisted nonetheless “you were the perfect jedi student, Obi-wan was always on me about being more like you. Listening to him better, meditating better, paying more attention in class”

“Bet that didn’t help the whole hating me thing” there was no resentment in your voice, a soft understanding if anything.

“Don’t you get it sweetheart” he smiled sadly “I’ve never hated you. I’m not sure I could if I tried”

You shook your head softly at that, eyes casted out over the alley around you, speaking after another short beat “come on Skywalker, let’s get back to the ship”

Anakin stayed leaned against the wall for another moment, giving himself a pause to study you before he pushed himself up and offered you his arm to help you walk with a small nod.

You hobbled further down the ally with his help, nothing but the sounds of your deep breaths until you spoke in little more than a whisper “you know you were so busy ‘not hating’ me I don’t think I ever got to know the real Anakin Skywalker”

There was a slight pause in his step at your words, his eyes shooting to the side to meet yours as he raised a brow “are you sure you want to?”

“If he’s anything like the man I’ve been around for the past few weeks” you answered with a small shrug “then yeah. I really do”

Anakin’s face broke out into a wide grin at your words, and you found yourself admiring it once again, for the first time your own mind remaining quiet as you did rather than chastising you for it as usual.

“I’ll try not to disappoint Y/N”

You chuckled softly at that, “Given your previous experience you’ve set the bar exceptionally low” you pointed out giving his shoulder a playful shove “ but I’ll hold you to that”

[chrollogy]

LIMELIGHT | short series masterlist (on hiatus)

ft. miya atsumu x f!reader

synopsis: An inebriated one night stand in the City of Love with a mystery man loops you into the shackles of a chaotic scandal after finding out that he’s a professional volleyball player for the MSBY Black Jackals, and also a part of the men’s national olympic volleyball team. This wouldn’t be a huge problem if the tabloids didn’t stir up rumours about your relationship with a co-artist months prior. Now, the media thinks you’re a cheater.

With your reputation on the line as Japan’s treasured artist, you’re forced to navigate through the ropes of publicity stunts with Miya Atsumu—acting like a make-believe sugary couple under the watchful gaze of newshounds, and observant fans until the scandal dies down. It’s all strictly business until feelings get involved.

content warning: fake dating au, pop artist!reader, fluff, smut (first chap; mdni), drunken ONS, consensual s*x, messy scandal, implied alcohol use, angst, mutual pining, slow burn, strangers to lovers, requited unrequited love, miscommunication, implied cheating (falsely accused), suggestive themes + more tags tba!

CHAPTERS:

teaser. Exercise routine

i. Mystery man in Paris

ii. His name? Miya Atsumu

iii. A meeting

iv. tba

v. tba

vi. tba

want to be updated? fill in the taglist form! 37/50 slots (open)

notes: divider: cafekitsune. ehehehee a new tsumu series?? as usual, this will be a slow update so yeeee!!! hope u all enjoy this journey with me <3

—

© chrollogy 2024 | don't plagiarise, repost or steal my video.

[toxic3mmy]

Star Struck

prompt: you get a message from alex on tumblr

hai lovely peeps <3

this is gonna be a short little book type thing with a few more chapters to come

i hope you guys enjoy!

ps- ill try my best to update this series at least once a week!!!

you mindlessly scrolled through tumblr. yes it wasn’t 2015 anymore but you still used the app religiously. you had a good number of followers, too.

you posted about all the emo and alternative music you were into and not to mention the youtubers who you loved.

your number one favorite youtuber was alexis quackity. you related to him in many different ways. he made you laugh on days you weren’t doing too well. he meant a lot to you, even if you didn’t know him personally and it was all most likely just an internet personality.

still, you found yourself talking about his latest let’s talk streams or even his random tweets. you loved having a community of online mutuals that felt the same way about quackity.

____

halfway across the country, alexis sat cross-legged on the floor of his cluttered apartment, surrounded by a sea of empty takeout boxes and energy drink cans. his eyes were glued to the computer screen, the glow from the monitor reflecting off his square-rimmed glasses. his mouse hand hovered over the keyboard, poised to respond to the endless stream of comments that flooded his youtube channel. his thumbs danced across his phone, scrolling through the notifications that seemed to never end.

it had been a wild ride for alexis since he started streaming games and posting videos under the moniker 'Quackity'. the fame had come quickly, and with it, the adoration of millions of fans around the globe.

sometimes alex would take the time and look through his community of devoted fans. he would use throwaway accounts to simply be unknown for once and just see what there was out there.

his fans were so unbelievably talented. many of them were amazing artists making portraits of him or even writing songs for him. some were even exceptional writers and the fanfiction stories he’d come across were actually pretty good.

amidst the digital chaos, one fan seemed to stand out from the rest. y/n, with her username 'Y/NIsNotHere', had caught his attention with her thoughtful comments and unyielding support. He clicked on her tumblr profile, and there it was: a fan account dedicated solely to him.

her profile was a shrine to his digital persona, filled with meticulously edited gifs, screenshots from his streams, and heartfelt notes about how his content had changed her life. Alexis felt a strange mix of flattery and curiosity. he hovered over the 'send message' button, his heart racing with excitement.

what did she look like? what was her voice like? would she be as amazing as she seemed? with a deep breath, he typed out a simple hello.

granted, he was using a secret throwaway tumblr account so he didn’t expect for an immediate response. and yet, the response still came rather quickly.

Y/Nisnothere: hi! whats up?

emoboy666_: nothing much, just surfin da web. so you’re a fan of quackity?

Y/Nisnothere: yeah im definitely a huge fan. there’s just something about him you know? he’s different, he makes me feel okay

alexis’ cheeks heated up after reading the compliment. he smiled softly as he continued to message you

emoboy666_: i totally get you! it’s nice to be distracted from things

Y/Nisnothere: for sure! so tell me about yourself

emoboy666_: well, im in my early 20s.. im mexican, i love video games and art….. oh and you can just call me A

Y/Nisnothere: well im 21, im also mexican, im also really into all things artsy and nerdy and well, emo lol, and you can just call me y/n :3

emoboy666_: i’m glad we have some things in common! your blog is really cool btw, it’s like a hidden gem amongst the cyber world

Y/Nisnothere: aw thanks! that’s really sweet of you to say <3

emoboy666_: no prob (: so, what are you doing right now?

Y/Nisnothere: oh not much, trying to do homework but getting distracted by tumblr and twitter lol. and u?

emoboy666_: oh same here, what do you study?

Y/Nisnothere: i’m studying art

emoboy666_: that’s awesome! maybe you should show me some of your work sometime

Y/Nisnothere: yeah! id love to (:

emoboy666: me too (:

Y/Nisnothere: (: <3

the two of you continued to message each other practically all night. you were happy to have made a new online friend and alexis was happy to get to know one of his fans.

neither of you truly knew who was on the other end of the phone but you still really enjoyed talking to one another. it was refreshing for the two of you.

you fell asleep with thoughts of your new friend, A

[flightlessangelwings]

Modern Day Hero

Joel Miller x fem!reader

Word count-4.6k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), oral (f receiving), praise, riding, pre or no outbreak (can be read either way), single dad Joel with Sarah (no Ellie), neighbor!Joel, fluff, mutual pining, flirting, romance, only one bed, reader is a YA novelist, protective!Joel, reader is hinted to be more curvy but can be interpreted any way, happy ending, no use of y/n

Notes- Hi @miraclesabound it's your @pedrostories secret santa!!! I took a slightly different direction instead of full on fantasy au but I still incorporated some fantasy in here! I hope you like it cause this was very fun to write!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

~

A knock at the door jolted you out of your thoughts. The screen looked like a bright blur in front of your eyes as you adjusted them to the world around you. You didn’t even realize it, but hours had gone by since you looked away from your screen, too engrossed with the story you were working on to notice the passage of time. Another knock called your attention and you stretched your neck and arms as you stood up from your desk.

“Coming,” you called out to the front door.

You groaned as you moved your legs for the first time in hours and you made a mental note to take a break for a bit once you finished with whoever was at your door. As you swung it open, your breath caught in your throat as you came face to face with your neighbor.

“Joel,” you breathed… Your handsome neighbor who you secretly had feelings for.

Joel gave you an apologetic smile, “Hey,” his exhaustion was apparent in his voice, “Sorry to ask ya so last minute,” he gestured to Sarah, who stood next to him, “Would you mind watching her for the afternoon?”

“Hey!” Sarah greeted you excitedly.

“Hey Sarah,” you replied back with a sincere smile, “Come on in! My favorite houseguest is always welcome here,” you winked at her, “I’ve got some snacks in the kitchen, go help yourself.”

Sarah’s face lit up as she hugged her dad goodbye and skipped inside. Joel mumbled a soft, “Be good,” to her before he turned to you and let out a heavy breath, “I owe you one,” he sighed, “I hate to put ya out like this but this job came up and I need the money and…”

“It’s no problem, Joel. Really,” you cut him off, “Trust me, I understand,” you nudged his shoulder playfully, “Go make that money, big guy.”

That made him laugh and Joel’s eyes darted down to the ground for a moment, “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he met your gaze again, “I mean it, though. I owe ya, sweetheart.” With that he hurried over to his truck and drove off.

The nickname took your breath away and your mouth hung open as your brain short circuited for a moment. You stood in the doorway and waved him goodbye as you watched him drive off. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you imagined that you were more than just neighbors… friends. You imagined that he kissed you goodbye and promised he wouldn’t be home too late. You imagined that you would make him dinner and you and Sarah would wait until he came back home.

But he wasn’t yours to have. You and Joel had lived next to each other for a couple years now. Over time, you became friends and you were more than happy to watch Sarah any time. Some nights, you all would hang out together and watch movies, and you always stuck together at neighborhood block parties. But it was never more than that.

You let out a heavy sigh as you closed the door and went inside where you found Sarah on your couch with a manuscript in her hands.

“Is this the new one you’ve been working on?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you sat down next to her, “It's the rough draft. I haven’t gotten a chance to look at my editor’s notes yet.”

“Can I read it?” Sarah asked, batting her eyes like the way her dad sometimes did.

Grinning, you nodded, “How can I say no to that face?” you laughed softly, “Let me know what you think.”

Sarah’s face lit up as she buried herself in the book. Ever since she found out you were a young adult novelist, she always eagerly awaited the next book you had for her to read. Joel definitely appreciated that you made her so interested in books and reading too. Plus, it helped that Sarah seemed to enjoy the same fantasy stories you liked to write, so having a young perspective helped you. You were sure that your writing improved when she started reading your novels and giving you input on them too.

Yet another reason to be grateful for your neighbors.

“I’m gonna go fix us something to eat while you read. Make yourself at home, Sarah.”

She always did, kicking off her shoes at the door and settling onto your couch, “Thanks!” she replied from behind the book, which she was already clearly engrossed in.

“I’ll start with some hot chocolates I think,” you said, more to yourself than to her, as you busied yourself in the kitchen.

Hours passed and the sun set long ago, yet Joel still wasn’t back. You had made you and Sarah dinner and sat with her for a bit before you went back to working on your next novel, the sequel to the draft she was reading, in fact. It was well after midnight when a knock at the door startled you and made Sarah bolt awake from where she fell asleep on your couch.

“Must be your dad,” you told Sarah as you went to answer the door.

“Hey,” Joel sounded tired, “Sorry I’m so late.”

“I was starting to think you forgot about me,” Sarah teased as she gathered her things.

“Now that hurts,” Joel feigned heartbreak, “Let’s go, baby girl.”

You snorted softly as you bid Sarah goodnight.

“Can I finish your book tomorrow?” she asked before she left, “I think this is my favorite one you’ve ever written!”

The compliment genuinely warmed you, “Of course,” you told her, “And then you can read the second one when it’s done,” you winked at her.

Sarah’s face lit up as she hugged you and bounced over to her house.

“She really liked them books of yours,” Joel commented with a grin, “I’m glad she’s been reading so much, though.”

“She’s a good kid,” you said, “How was the job?” you asked.

“It’s money,” he replied.

“That good, huh?”

Joel scoffed. His frown furrowed his brows for a moment before he looked you in the eyes and his face softened, “Thanks again for watchin’ her so late.”

You smiled back at him, “It’s no problem,” you replied in a hushed tone.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Joel reached for you, as if he wanted to hug… or maybe even kiss you, but he stopped himself. Instead, he just nodded and patted your shoulder before he went home to his daughter, leaving you in your doorway dumbfounded.

*

It was the middle of the night a few days later. Feeling accomplished at finishing your edits for the novel you let Sarah read, you crashed fairly early. You had been working hard on this novel, and it was quickly becoming your pride and joy. So you let yourself rest for the first time in weeks. But, as fate would have it, you wouldn’t rest for long.

A loud crash jolted you awake with a gasp. You sat up in bed, listening if you could figure out what the sound was, when another hiss and pop startled you. Quickly, you got out of bed and ran towards the direction of the sound, which sounded like it came from your basement.

To your dismay, when you turned on the basement light, you saw what the commotion was. A pipe burst in your basement, and everything was flooding. Panic coursed through your veins as your hands shook. Nothing like this ever happened to you before, and between your overwhelming emotions and your panic, you had no idea what to do. And it was the middle of the night, who would you even call?

You grabbed your phone and dialed the only number you could think of.

Joel’s phone rang on his bedside table, causing him to wake with a start. He groaned for a moment before he realized it was a call, and he reached for it with dread as his first thought was of his daughter, “Hello?” he answered with a low gravelly voice.

“Joel?” your voice was on the other end, sounding meek and scared.

He breathed your name as he sat up, “Everything alright?”

“I’m sorry to call in the middle of the night,” you stumbled over your words, “My basement is flooding and I don’t know what to do…”

“Hang on, I’ll be right over,” Joel replied with no hesitation. 

He rushed over as fast as he could, and Joel was thankful you were right next door. He burst in your front door and immediately gathered you in his arms, “It’s alright,” he cooed, “I’ve got this.”

You stood in a daze, unsure what to do as Joel got to work. The first thing he did was turn off your water, stopping the rushing water. Then he called the emergency line and let them know what happened and got to work draining the standing water. When backup arrived, he helped them, taking the lead for you.

“Hey,” Joel was suddenly in front of you, his hands on your shoulders, “That’s all we can do for now,” he said, “The water’s all gone but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here until it gets cleaned out,” he paused, “Why don’t you stay at my place tonight and I’ll help you finish this tomorrow.”

Your eyes went wide as your mind raced, but you also couldn’t turn him down, “Ok,” you whispered.

Joel kept you at his side as he led you back to his house. You were sure he was telling you more details about what happened and what he did to fix it, but you didn’t absorb any of what he said. All you could think about was his large, strong hands on you and how he jumped in to help with no hesitation. It made your heart pound in your chest that it took you a moment to realize you were standing in his bedroom.

“What?” you asked, realizing that he said something important to you.

Joel just smiled softly, “I said Sarah’s out at a sleepover tonight so it’s just us. But I don’t have a spare room, so you can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No,” you replied quickly. When he looked at you confused, you clarified, “I mean… I don’t mind…” you felt your skin heat up and your head spun. 

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed. You paused for a moment, “Sorry to put you out like this…”

“Now don’t you start that on me, sweetheart,” Joel interrupted you, “You ain’t putin me out at all.”

The care in his voice made your heart melt. You swallowed hard and nodded before you looked at his bed, “What side can I take?” you joked to cover your nerves.

Joel grinned.

You settled in easier than you thought you would. You felt safe with Joel, there was no question there. But, after imagining what it would be like to be in his bed for so long, it made your heart pound to actually be here. Letting out a deep breath, you tried to calm your racing mind. The bed dipped as Joel got in on the other side, and you each laid with your back to the other.

The two of you laid together in silence before Joel broke it, “So,” he sighed, “Sarah told me about that new book you wrote…”

You pressed your lips together as your heart pounded in your chest, “Did she like it?” you asked in a hushed tone, suddenly nervous.

“She loved it,” Joel let out a soft laugh, “Where’d you get the idea for it?”

“Oh,” you breathed, “It just comes to me I guess.”

An unspoken question lingered in the air: “Who did you base the hero off of?” You were sure Sarah told Joel about each character, and you were sure that the hero would feel familiar to him…

Instead, Joel decided not to ask, as much as the question nagged at his mind. He let out a deep breath before he murmured, “Night, sweetheart.”

You felt a flutter in your chest before sleep took you. As you slept, you dreamt of the plot of your novel, only you were the main character. In your dream, you were a princess, the daughter of the king. You and your family were well respected and beloved by your people. You dreamt of the balcony in the castle that you described so vividly and you looked out over your kingdom on a beautiful, sunny day.

Then, you were out in the streets of your kingdom. In disguise, you loved to secretly mingle with the people as equals. Their craftsmanship always fascinated and inspired you, and you loved to wander the markets. That was where you met him: the blacksmith. Joel Miller. He worked diligently on the sword in his hands, and you watched him as he formed the most exquisite sword you had ever laid your eyes on. Even the knights in your royal guard didn’t have weapons this grand. 

Following the plot of your novel, you and the blacksmith with Joel’s face met and quickly fell in love. He soon discovered that you were the princess, but it didn’t change his feelings for you. Nor did his status mean anything when it came to your heart. As the two of you fell deeper in love, the novel’s villain, the evil wizard that worked for your father and secretly tried to steal his throne, tried to steal you away. The blacksmith Joel- your hero-  fought against all odds to rescue you, and the two of you rode away to your happily ever after in the sunset…

Suddenly, you woke up with a weight across your body, and for a moment you were confused. But a snore from Joel reminded you of your current situation. You held your breath as you fully opened your eyes and adjusted to the low light of the moon through the window. You still stayed on your side, but Joel had rolled over in his sleep and slung an arm around you.

Your heart pounded as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. He groaned in his sleep as he clutched you tighter, and it made you gasp. Not out of discomfort or fear, but from the yearning in your heart.

The noise you made must have woken Joel, who was accustomed to always listening for any sign that Sarah needed him, and he woke up with a low grumble. It took him a moment to realize what he did in his sleep, and once he did, Joel shot awake.

“Shit,” he muttered as he pushed himself off of you, “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s ok, Joel,” you whispered as you turned over and faced him. I don’t mind, you thought to yourself but didn’t voice out loud. 

He looked flustered, even as sleep clung to his features. As you took in the sight of him in the moonlight, you noticed the mess of his hair and the softness around his eyes. And it only made Joel more beautiful to you.

“I uhh,” he started, unsure of what to say to break the tension that hung between the two of you.

“Joel…” you started, also unsure of what to do. Part of you screamed to confess your feelings, but the other part was scared of what that would mean. “He was you.”

“What?” Joel asked as he shifted to sit up in bed.

“The hero of the story, the blacksmith that falls in love with the princess and saves her,” your voice was meek as you confessed, “I based him off of you,” slowly, your eyes turned to meet his. 

Joel whispered your name, “Listen I…”

You stared deep into his eyes as he struggled to find the right words. Joel’s gaze darted around the room until it landed in your face, and instead of voicing it with words, Joel turned to action. He scooted himself closer to you and cupped your face in his large hand. It was warm, and you let out a breath as you leaned into his touch.

Joel pulled your face close to his until his lips hovered over yours, “You know you can stop me, right?” his voice was low as he whispered against your skin.

“I know,” you replied in just as soft a voice as you made no move to stop him.

A smirk lit up his face for a moment before he closed the small space between your faces, taking your lips with his in a soft yet heated kiss. You leaned into him as you reached out and clung to his shoulders and parted your lips to deepen the kiss- an invitation he eagerly took.

Things quickly heated up from there as Joel groaned into you, kissing you passionately. All the tension from the unspoken emotions melted away as your tongues tangled together. Neither of you needed the words spoken out loud- the kiss told more than enough for both of you.

Joel gently pushed you down onto your back as he climbed over you, all the while never breaking away from your lips. You moaned into him as you let him take control. The feeling of Joel on top of you was even better than when he held you in his sleep. Before you even realized your movements, you bucked your hips into his, signaling you wanted… needed more. 

“I got you, baby,” Joel groaned softly into your ear as he kissed his way down your neck, tugging at your clothes as he did so.

“Joel…” you moaned as your eyes fluttered shut and inch after inch of your skin was exposed to him.

“Shit baby,” Joel growled as he slipped his own t-shirt off, “You’re gorgeous,” his tone was low as he pushed his sweat pants down, freeing his cock.

Your eyes snapped open as you saw Joel, bare before you. Your lips parted as a heavy breath escaped your lips and you drank in the sight of him. The moonlight highlighted his features perfectly, and he looked more handsome than ever.

“So are you, Joel,” you breathed as you tried to push yourself onto your elbows and reach for him.

He took your hands gently and guided you back down onto your back, “Let me, sweetheart.”

A whimper escaped your lips as he settled between your parted legs, wriggling himself down your body and kissing every inch of skin on the way. Joel took his time, gently kneading and kissing your breasts, worshiping your body as he made his way to your pussy.

You quickly turned into a moaning, whimpering mess as Joel’s tongue ran along your nipple while his rough hands cupped your breasts. Already, he made you feel so good, but the more he kissed your skin, the more your need grew. Thankfully, though Joel didn’t rush, he still knew what you wanted and he broke away from your breast with a pop before he knelt down between your legs.

He paused and looked back up at you for a moment, and his cock twitched with desire as he saw the lustful look on your face. Your mouth hung open to let the heavy breaths out, and laying naked in the moonlight you never looked more stunning to him.

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby,” he groaned before he dove into your body.

You couldn’t even answer when you felt his hot tongue on your folds, licking and sucking at your pussy with fervor. Any thoughts vanished and all you could think of was Joel and how good his tongue felt. Your head dropped back and you screamed with pleasure, your hands clinging and clawing on Joel’s bare shoulders. 

Joel slurped loudly as he let himself go. Any inhibition was gone the moment he tasted you, and instantly he was addicted. And the sounds you made only added to the moment. Joel only got harder and harder the louder you cried out. His hands grabbed onto your thighs, kneading your soft flesh as he kept them parted wide.

“Fuck… Joel…” tears filed your eyes as your body felt like it was floating. 

He groaned into you and only licked harder and faster at your clit, determined to send you over the edge. As much as Joel wanted to talk you through your climax, he couldn’t break away from you even if it were for his last gasp of air. No, Joel wasn’t going to break away until you came into his mouth.

Joel didn’t have to wait long, though, and with just a few more precise flicks of his tongue, you came hard, screaming loudly. One hand flew into his hair, tugging at the thick locks while your legs shook on either side of him. Joel’s hips bucked against the bed on their own, field by your moans and screams as you rode out your climax on his face.

With a loud gasp, Joel finally let go of your pussy. His hands stayed on your legs as he watched you come down from your high, his eyes blown dark and wide with need. Heavy breaths from both of you filled the room as Joel stared at you.

When you finally opened your eyes, you let out a sharp breath before you froze under his gaze. Joel never looked at you like that before, though you imagined that look on his face a hundred times before.

“Joel…”

He pounced forward, taking your lips with own, cutting off whatever you were going to say. Both of you moaned into each other as you clung to the other in your feverish kiss. Joel took the opportunity while you were lost in the kiss to flip your bodies over in one swift movement. You yelped into his mouth as you suddenly found yourself straddling him, looking down on his handsome face.

“Are you sure?” you asked in a whisper, feeling nervous about being on top of Joel.

“I’m sure, baby,” Joel groaned as his hands caressed up and down the sides of your body, “Let me see you ride me, baby.”

The twitch of his cock against your body made you whine, and any insecurities you had disappeared. Placing a hand on his chest, you leaned forward and took his cock with your free hand. Joel’s eyes went wide and he let out a low groan as he watched the moonlight highlight your pussy as you hovered over him.

Joel moaned your name as his hands went to your hips, giving them a squeeze before he helped guide you onto his length. Your eyes met his for a moment before you looked back down, watching as you slowly sank down on the thick length.

His eyes never left you, and he gritted his teeth as the tip of his cock entered your body. Your heat engulfed him, and he couldn’t help the groan he let out as more and more of you wrapped around his cock. You hissed as you adjusted to the stretch, but Joel murmured encouraging words in a low tone to help.

“Look at you, baby. Takin’ me so good like that,” Joel growled, “Fuck you’re so beatiful…”

As your hips met his, you let out a loud gasp as he filled you more than you had ever been filled before. “Fuck… Joel…” you moaned as your eyes fluttered shut as you slowly rocked your hips back and forth.

“Shit, sweetheart,” Joel’s grip tightened on your hips. Caressing your body, Joel’s hands moved back to your ass, squeezing it even harder and making you moan. “That’s it, baby.”

You blinked your eyes open for a moment before shutting them again. All you could do was moan; words failed you. Slowly at first, you lifted your hips a bit before lowering them again, causing you both to gasp. Joel grunted as you repealed the action.

“Fuck…” you moaned as you picked up your pace.

Leaning forward, your hands landed on Joel’s chest, gripping his pecs as you rode him faster and harder. Already sensitive from having cum once, it took you no time to feel the tingle build from the base of your spine as Joel’s cock entered you over and over again.

“Joel… I’m gonna…”

“Fuck… Me too, baby,” Joel’s hands ran up your sides to grab you and yank you down.

Crashing your lips together, Joel thrust his hips up into you from below, matching your rhythm as your climaxes quickly built until you both exploded at the same time. He swallowed the moan you let out as your body trembled overtop of him and your inner muscles squeezed his cock. Joel grunted as he gave one last harsh thrust and came right after you, spilling himself into you as he held you tightly. 

With one last heavy breath, both you and Joel flopped down onto the mattress in a heaving, sweaty mess. You rested on his broad chest, feeling his pounding heartbeat against your ear. Neither of you moved for several moments, just savoring the connection you still had as your breathing returned to normal.

“Hang on, baby,” Joel broke the silence as he wrapped his arms around you once more, “I got you.”

You whimpered as he slid out of you, but you never left Joel’s embrace. He settled you next to him, much like you were before. Only this time, you faced him, and Joel held you with intention. The two of you slipped into place as if you had been together for years. It just felt right… for both of you.

“Joel,” you whispered as sleep started to take you, “I…” you let out a soft snore before you could finish your thought.

Joel grinned as he kissed the top of your head and whispered to your sleeping form, “I know, baby,” he spoke lowly, “Me too.” 

*

Sarah let herself in with her key and bounced up the stairs. Fully expecting to find Joel alone, she burst his door open and loudly announced, “Dad, I’m home,” before she froze in her tracks. She was taken by surprise to find you in her father’s bed, snuggled close in his arms. 

Joel gasped awake and shot upright, “Sarah!” he glanced over and made sure you were covered as you too woke up with a gasp, “What are you doing home so early?”

“It’s noon,” she replied with a mischievous smirk, “It’s about time you two had your own sleepover.”

“Sarah…” Joel chastised her, but she already left the room.

Joel collapsed back down onto the bed with an exasperated sigh, “Shit,” he mumbled before he turned to you and met your gaze. The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment before you both burst into laughter. He pulled you close and placed a soft kiss on your forehead before leaning you down onto his chest. 

“Guess we should get up, huh?” you asked with a soft giggle.

“Yeah,” Joel agreed as he reluctantly let you go.

As you both dressed with your back to each other, your glance over and your breath caught in your chest as you saw Joel’s bare back in the sunlight. He must have felt your eyes on him, or he wanted to sneak a glance at you too, because he looked over his shoulder right after you did. Smirks lit up both your faces as you went back to dressing.

“Hey Joel,” you broke the silence this time.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks,” you spoke in a hushed tone, “For everything.”

Joel finished dressing and walked around the foot of the bed to take you in his arms once more, “You aint never gotta thank me for anything, baby,” he murmured, “I’ve always got you.”

You smiled and closed your eyes contently, “I picked the right man for my hero then… blacksmith.” you snickered at your modern day hero. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel rolled his eyes playfully as you both took your first steps to the bright future. 

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

mutual 1: sorry the update for my webcomic this week is a bit late! i really had to rush it so it prolly looks really sloppy lol [some of the most sophisticated comic art ive ever seen]

mutual 2: call me uterine lining the way astarions cervix got me bleeding profusely

mutual 3: do you think nanowrimo will give me a posthumous pity publishing deal if i mention it in my suicide note

mutual 4: okay fine i finally started revolutionary girl utena

mutual 5: does columbo know the service he did for butch lesbians. for all of us

mutual 6: wish you were here [blurry picture set of conifer woods in early autumn evening, taken as if frantically running down a winding trail]

mutual 4: im pretty hardy i dont need the trigger list but thanks for looking out for me guys

mutual 7: good morning lovelies another day the wizard tried to best me and another day i successfully locked him in the spare bathroom lol hope u like drinking shampoo fucker

mutual 8: here is a zip of every yuri manga scan i have and here is a backup in case i get dcma'd. the himejoshi lifestyle will never die

mutual 9: i wish i could go back in time to the shinzo abe assassination and ask to hold the doohickey

mutual 10: here's my essay on how wanting to be loved is the same as wanting to be eaten. three paragraphs in you'll find out that this is 100% tied to an obscure beauty and the beast manga i've been reading lately and how much i want to fuck the beast

mutual 4: oh thats why there was the trigger list.

mutual 11: YOU CAN'T LOCK ME IN THIS BATHROOM FOREVER

mutual 12: why do i have to defend my thesis to people i dont even respect. im not dickriding you just give me the degree

mutual 13: its just me and this scab ive picked into my scalp against the world

mutual 14: my little dragon got glazed and is ready to go into the kiln! everyone wish him good luck!

mutual 3: nvm i am a beautiful genius. perhaps the most beautiful genius of all

mutual 15: i think we should give david lynch rpgmaker and whatever happens happens

mutual 16: kpeyboaatrds brpokem gpuys

mutual 17: also heres my work in progress glossary of mixtec words! i still have a long way to go but i love being able to preserve my roots even in this small way

mutual 4: i just finished the black rose arc. question: what

mutual 18: i need emet-selch to be my wife

mutual 19: i need glados to be my husband

mutual 20: visited the ocean today!!! <3 beach pics!!! there is a darkness growing within me

mutual 21: the forms for my legal name change came in. pls vote in this poll of what my middle name should be: Dill Pickle (Dickle for short), Optimus Prime, Tumblr User Gorgonicteratologist, Smeve

mutual 22: just finished my 100th book of the year! this weeks read was the uses of enchantment by the psychologist bruno bettelheim,

mutual 23: reeses penis butter cups lol

mutual 4: i need to hunt akio for sport

mutual 24: oouugghhrgh. hot. dog.

mutual 25: your favorite character or fictional other would want you to brush your teeth and wash your face so you're well rested and wake up feeling refreshed! make them proud!

mutual 26: being a delivery driver isnt the worst job ive ever had but i do keep wondering what itd be like to drive off into the wild blue yonder one day and not come back

mutual 27: weird dog? [phone picture of critically endangered stork]

mutual 28: i think the two phone line polls in front of my house are having a lovers tryst. no way to prove it tho

mutual 4: WHAT

mutual 29: while you bitches are balduring your gates or finalling those fantasies im doing what a REAL gamer does. playing a b tier rpg that came out in 2004 for the 18th time

mutual 30: ^ real. hamtaro ham ham heartbreak is a masterpiece of interactive art. im not even going to call it a video game at this point

mutual 4: THAT'S HOW IT ENDS?! ANTHY?

mutual 31: can you help me pick which drawing looks better: 34% overlay or 36% soft light?

mutual 32: new video essay out. its called disability in video game narratives: final fantasy 14's most reliable fault. i churned the script out over an all-nighter and my mic crapped out halfway through but by god i did it

mutual 33: my new zine bundle is out! if you buy it you also get a discount on all my game jam games! i really cant wait for you to play them!

mutual 4: yall should watch revolutionary girl utena

[dreamsy990]

SPONTANEOUS MINI REVIEW BECAUSE I REALIZED THAT I HAVENT FUCKING TALKED ABOUT FRAGMENTARY PASSAGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ok so. i actually really liked this one!

so uh. if you witnessed that incredibly long thread i made yelling about kh3 you will know that i. am not a fan of the look of modern kh. i think its kind of uninteresting compared to the delightfully cartoony style and just generally i dont like more realistic looks to games that already had a unique visual identity.

so im here to say that i think it works for 0.2! im a good way through kh3 and i dont think it works well there and ill get to that when i eventually review that game but. in 0.2 i think the new style fits the more dark tone very nicely, and the enviornments are absolutely gorgeous. like i came out of ddd thinking absolutely nothing could top symphony of sorcery in terms of world design and was proven wrong. the realm of darkness is my new favorite kh "world". for my mutuals who havent played kh, look at this!!! its absolutely gorgeous

and the environments are actually my favorite thing about this game. besides being beautiful, theyre also delightfully trippy and unsettling. theres a section where you have to climb up a seemingly never ending staircase, and every time you reach what you think is the top you hear aquas worst thoughts. a lot of the areas are twisted, destroyed versions of worlds seen in bbs. its very dark (fitting, for the realm of darkness) and honestly its a treat to just walk around admiring the view. the visual storytelling is as good as kh ever gets.

i briefly mentioned aquas thoughts a minute ago so ill bring them up again, her commentary adds a lot to the desolate atmosphere, and this game really feels like a character study. it shows her desperation, her worst thoughts, her hope despite everything, and its just genuinely good. i havent been able to say that about khs character writing since like. days. its GOOD.

i am. not a fan of bbs' writing. i think its got a good underlying concept with absolutely terrible execution, and it makes me wonder at times if the things i like about it were intentional or not. but this game takes the best written character of bbs and gives her more depth than they ever could before. i can say with confidence that aqua is one of the best characters in the series, and a lot of it is because of this game.

the tone here is very gloomy, but thats not really a complaint because the game is so short. the depressing atmosphere isnt too much to bear because youre barely in it for more than 2 hours. and i think that run time is EXACTLY long enough. it goes for exactly as long as it needs to tell the story and still give a moment to breathe.

as for gameplay. im not the biggest fan of the updated system. i like to think im open to change with kh's combat. i think the command deck has potential and the card system in com was fun and i actually liked days' panel system. but something about the way this new version of the system feels to play is just. unsatisfying. hits dont feel like they have any weight to me, and spells feel inconsequential despite being more grandiose than ever. its just not as good as it was before, and like its a sort of half assed replacement of reaction commands. the way they incorporated style changes into it was okay, but again its not as satisfying as it was in bbs. but maybe it was just satisfying in bbs because the rest of the combat there sucked

tldr, the things i care about in a game (writing and visuals) were fucking spectacular, but the gameplay definitely had room to improve. also if i ever have to fight a darkside again ill throw up and cry! 8/10, though im tempted to raise it to a 9 for the environments alone

[lavendertales]

Sweet lies: Chapter 1

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

summary: you return to your beloved hometown and you're set for a night out with the old gang. But the night isn't short of surprises.

word count: 3.4k

SERIES WARNINGS: former friends who were in love with each other, angst, mutual pining, tension, eventual smut, jealousy, infidelity, wrong choices, kind of arranged marriage too I guess.

A/N: I NO LONGER USE A TAGLIST! If you want to be updated on my works, click “Get notifications” on this blog! Comments & reblogs are forever appreciated 💕

gif: @uuuhshiny

series masterlist | AO3 

The pleasant memories of this place are still vivid. Unchanged, unsoiled by time and the pain it carried along with it. But it’s not that easy to focus solely on the good. It never is.

There is also melancholy to be felt. Deep and sharp, soaring through you like a black veil of smoke. It’s intangible, yet it still aches. All the contradictory emotions that come with you simply standing there, gazing around, are still very much alive in your chest, as it’s the day when you left it all behind.

And you sure remember that day, clear as the sky above you, and cold as the crisp February air around you.

You were only eighteen. Still a child, barely beginning to trace out the steps on your life’s map, but it was your dream. You had the opportunity to fulfill it, and you could not miss it. You knew you’d never forgive yourself if you missed it.

After months of sending out applications, you finally received the answer you’ve been hoping for. You had been accepted into one of the most prestigious universities in the world. Cambridge University, full scholarship. Just like that, you embarked on the most wonderful adventure yet, chasing the dream of studying abroad.

But it wasn’t that easy. That much was clear.

You were, of course, going; nothing was going to break your way. You packed all of your things, mentally prepared yourself to move abroad indefinitely, perhaps for good. Yet, you found yourself utterly weakened by the idea that you had to say goodbye to your friends. It would be tough, but you knew they’d be completely supportive. You wouldn’t even have dreamt of anything else.

On your last dinner together as a group, you were joined by the Miller brothers, Will and Benny, Santiago, Rose, the only other girl amongst you, and Frankie. They all offered you their sincere congratulations and support, just as you had anticipated. Though they were saddened that you would no longer participate in their daily lives—at least not that actively—they promised to call and write to you, and to catch up as often as possible.

But each time you looked around the table and noticed Frankie’s pleading and soft glare, you began to question everything, from your decision to study abroad, to your own damn sanity.

The impact that man had on you was simply magnetic. Even now, thinking back on it, nothing ever came close to the rush you had being around him. It was a warm thrill, if that made sense. You were the best version of yourself when he was around, and before you knew it, you were hooked. Being around Frankie was the closest you’ve ever gotten to feeling love in its most flawless and pure state. He was soothing, loving and warm, everything you forgot you could be. You thought that even if you were to spend every second of every day with him, it would still not be enough. There was just something between you two that boiled right underneath the surface, simmered in unbearable heat. Unspoken, begging to be released in one way or the other. It never materialized, though. Neither of you addressed it, for one reason or the other, so you left.

There were times when you swore you had imagined that Frankie could ever reciprocate your feelings. You managed to convince yourself that it was all in your head, that your mind had fabricated what your heart desired in order to cope with the fear of rejection and loss. And you survived on that knowledge. Knowing that it was unrequited love made it easier for you to survive abroad all those years.

Ten of them, to be more precise. Ten years you’ve been gone. Well, not gone gone, but it sure felt bizarre to return after so long.

Few things have changed in town: new shops, new infrastructure, but that’s about it. Nothing really palpable to you. You can’t help but look around though while you wait for Santiago to pick you up. The people seem the same, like you’re the only one who’s aged in the past decade. You wonder how many of those people walking by had dreams, and you wonder whether they followed them or had to push them aside in survival’s favor.

Tonight, you’re meeting the old party for dinner in the same restaurant you met ten years ago. With a few exceptions, of course: Rose can’t make it, but promised to make it up to you in the following days and the Millers are bringing their girlfriends. Santiago remains single from what you know, and you couldn’t bear thinking too much about Frankie, so you were running on sheer curiosity and a “we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it” basis.

But your subconscious runs wild with questions and scenarios: is he married? Is he bringing his kids? Is he single? Is he gay now? Anything feels possible at this very moment, when all you know is fear and doubt.

“One thing’s for sure, life abroad agrees with you.”

The voice is unmistakable; you turn, being greeted by Santiago’s bright smile and open arms. You practically sink into the embrace, a lovely sensation of friendliness and home nearly overwhelming you. He hugs you tightly, sincerely, rocking you a little to the left and to the right, then he lets you go.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he continues, eyeing you up and down.

“Save something for dinner, Santi, damn.”

“Oh, speaking of that. Something you should know.”

You don’t like his tone when he announces that; your heart drops in your stomach. Don’t think it, don’t think it, don’t think it…

“Frankie isn’t coming,” he says, and you can’t help but feel relieved in the slightest. “Something about building… something. I don’t know, honestly. Might be furniture. I think.”

“Not really surprising, but good to know.”

Santiago looks at you in a way that’s meant to make you feel sorry for what you said.

But you’re not.

“Come on. It’s been ten years.”

“I am over it, Santi, I promise. But I do think I at least get to be snarky.”

“You know what, tonight is about you. Go for it. Shall we?”

You nod, getting in the car, all while entertaining Santiago with stories from your most recent whereabouts.

But there’s a warzone happening in the back of your mind. That part of your brain can only reminisce the cruel way you and Frankie ceased to exist as friends.

You loved him. That much was true and as real as it could be. But you loved him as a friend first. He had been the most positive influence in your life, so much so that you managed to quit smoking and get straight A’s on your SATs. You spent most of your time together in the senior year of high school talking, laughing, sharing music and stories, and simply caring for each other.

Then one day, it all stopped.

He had kept in touch with you for a little while after you moved away, but conversations grew thinner and rarer, and you could tell something was wrong. He insisted that everything was fine, and a week later, he vanished from your life altogether like he was never there to begin with. No phone calls, no texts, no emails, nothing. He was gone, without ever saying goodbye.

You even thought of him as being dead. It was infinitely easier than lying awake at night trying to understand what could have been done differently, what went wrong and what could you have done to prevent the rupture from happening. Cruel and bizarre, yes, but easier to cope with.

Because losing your dearest friend wasn’t something eighteen year-old you knew how to process.

Whenever you spoke with any of the guys, you asked not to be told about Frankie other than answering the question “Is he alive and well”. The answer was always yes. He was alive and well, and that made you happy for him, but in return it made you feel bitter and alone.

That was the extent of the contact you kept with Frankie. The guys respected your wish as well and never went into details about him, so you had no clue what his life looked like now.

“Now that you moved back in town and the group is essentially back together, are you just never gonna see or talk to Frankie again?”

Santiago’s question is blunt and to the point, but it’s only natural he be curious about it. Everyone in your little party knew about your feelings for Frankie, and they all knew how devastated you were when he subtracted himself from your life.

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. “I could.”

“Can you though? I mean, you’re bound to run into each other at some point.”

“I—I don’t know, Santi, okay? I obviously miss him, I think I might miss him forever, actually, but at the same time it’s…”

“Yeah.”

He quickly glances over at you, offering a trademark Santiago Garcia compassionate look that, oddly enough, calms you down a little.

“It’s hard,” you finish saying, heart back in your throat.

“I know. But look, neither of us is forcing you to do anything. We’re just glad to have you back and we hope things can be okay between us all.”

“I sincerely hope so too.”

“And Frankie’s part of our lives whether you like it or not, so you either gotta get over it fast and accept that, or things will be very awkward.”

“I did move on.”

“Tell that to yourself.”

You feel some anger to his remark, though not the primal kind that got you in trouble.

“It’s hard to just erase someone out of your life, someone you cared for so fucking much,” you blurt out. “Obviously not to him, he did it perfectly, but I can’t do it so easily. It’s been ten years and it still hurts to think about it.”

“If you think it’s been easy for him too, like it was a light decision to take, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

You exhale loudly, hoping that will be a good reveal of your annoyance with the situation. Luckily, Santiago is great at picking up cues, so it does not require any more effort on your part.

“I’m not saying what he did was smart,” he tells you, his voice soft and filled with regret. “Personally, I think it was idiotic. But one thing I do know, is that he was in a lot of pain for a long time after it. Which means it wasn’t easy to do.”

You make a grimace, feeling surprisingly at peace hearing that. “Good,” you say, and even you recognize how mean you sound right now. “Why should I be the only one miserable?”

Santiago chuckles, nodding his head as if to say “you two idiots are killing me”. You know that look. You’ve seen it plenty of times before. You’ve even been on the receiving end of it a few times, too.

“But things really started to pick up for him,” Santiago continued. “In the past few years, he’s really—“

“Can we not talk about him or us or anything remotely related to that tonight? I just want to have a nice dinner with you guys and not think about him. Not yet. That’s… tomorrow’s problem.”

“Alright, sure thing.”

And true to his words, he didn’t speak another word about Frankie, nor did he even mention his name. Truthfully, even that is more than capable of awakening all the feelings you had fought so long and hard to bury deep within. You know it’s only a matter of time until you’d inevitably run into Frankie again, but that is an issue for tomorrow. You don’t have to mentally prepare for it until tomorrow.

All you want to do is relax, have a nice dinner with your friends and tell yourself that you are home.

The moment you walk through the restaurant’s door, you see a fairly big table on the right, and the first figure you notice is Will’s. Being the tallest of the group, it’s virtually impossible not to spot him in crowds. He’s always played the role of the mentor among you, the quiet, yet wise one that you all came to for advice at some point in time.

He’s the first one to remark you, too, and he smiles instantly, standing up to greet you. Then off goes Benny with his exuberant personality, excited like a loyal dog reunited with a friend. They both reach to hug you, patting your back and squeezing you gently into their arms.

“Long time, no see!” Benny exclaims. “And it is quite the sight, might I add.”

“First Santi, now you… I’m on fire tonight, huh?” you laugh.

“Here, have a seat,” Will encourages you, pulling a chair for you.

“Thanks.”

“This is Mia, my girlfriend.”

The girl named Mia extends a hand to you, smiling politely at you as you introduce yourself. She’s a beauty indeed; luscious, brown curls cascading down her bare shoulders, a red dress fitting her body, and when she smiles at Will, her eyes sparkle in a truly mesmerizing way. She even seems to be on the quieter side, which matches Will’s persona to a T.

“And this is Emily, my hot-shot girlfriend,” Benny says.

The other girl named Emily shakes your hand and smiles all the same. She’s just as beautiful as Mia: red hair, green eyes, stunning dress and lips so full even you’d spend all day kissing them.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” Mia says. “The guys sung your praises a lot.”

“You really shouldn’t talk so much about other girls, you guys,” you tell them, menu in hand. “Especially not when your girlfriends could be models.”

Both girls giggle, but it’s not one of those fake laughs that you can spot from a mile away. They seem genuinely flattered and nice.

“Em did model for a while a few years back,” Benny gloats, wrapping his arm around her.

“Benny, come on.”

“What? I can’t brag about my incredibly sexy girlfriend?”

“You are, we can all hear you,” Santiago says under his breath, his vulture eyes locked on the menu.

Will chuckles and moves his glare on you.

“We heard you studied at Cambridge, is that right?” Mia asks you.

“Yes. I was lucky enough to get a full scholarship there for the Arts program.”

“Oh, what did you study?”

“Business Management.”

“So you know she really means business.”

Everyone giggles at Benny’s words and gets ready to order. Meanwhile, Will’s gaze never leaves your figure. He’s on your left, one seat over Santiago, so he gets a pretty good view at your creased brow.

“Did Pope tell you?” he asks suddenly, and you realize seconds later he’s addressing you.

“Tell me what?”

“About—Frankie.”

He falters, like the name is some forbidden cuss word neither is supposed to say.

“Oh. Yeah, he—he did mention that he couldn’t make it tonight.”

Will makes a grimace, exchanging a look with Santiago that makes you feel left out of whatever little secret they got going on. But then you begin to suspect maybe that’s not what Will meant at all.

You’re in no mood to discuss anything Frankie-related tonight, so you let it slide.

“Yeah, he couldn’t make it tonight,” Benny agrees. “Too bad. It would’ve been nice to have all of us here.”

“Mhm.”

You add nothing else after the hum, and the guys don’t ask anything else, much to the girls’ curiosity. But when the waiter asks for your order, you all place it without second thoughts.

Although you highly doubt you’ve heard the last about Frankie this evening.

“How long have you and the bros been together, ladies?” you ask.

“Well, Benny and I just had our one year anniversary a couple of weeks ago, and Will and Mia have been together for… what, five months?”

Will nods, stroking Mia’s hand. “Six month anniversary coming up soon,” Mia gushes. “What about you and Santi?”

You and Santiago look at each other in somewhat of a panic, then you both start to laugh, just as your drinks are being brought before you.

“We’re not together,” you laugh. “Nope. Not a chance. No. No, no, no.”

“Four no’s? Really?” Santiago asks. “Punch me in the face, it’ll hurt less.”

You pat him gently on the arm, which steals a smile from him.

“I’m sorry,” Mia apologizes. “I heard about you and the other guy from the group and I assumed—“

“No, no.”

“That’s—not me.”

Silence intervenes again, with Benny clearing his throat out loud, thus capturing everyone’s attention as he leans in to whisper to Mia, “No, that wasn’t Santiago, that was… Frankie.”

“Oh, that’s right, Frankie!”

“Okay, let’s clear the air. I had a fallout with Frankie ten years ago, and we haven’t spoken since, but that’s about it. No need to walk on eggshells around me, no need to act like his name is some ancient-long curse that cannot be spoken out loud. It’s okay.”

“Dully noted,” Benny says, sipping from his beer. “So what was his excuse for tonight?”

Everyone turns to Santiago, expecting an answer, with the exception of you. You slowly nurse your wine, finding the table cloth much more interesting than pretending to care about that man.

Except you still do, and it’s tearing you inside in ways you could never even describe.

“Something about building furniture, I guess,” Santiago finally replies. “He’s been quite into remodeling lately.”

“Oh, cause of—“

“Benny.”

Will’s voice is firm, yet low and menacing enough for his little brother to receive the message. But of course, that only captures your curiosity and interest alike, raising more questions rather than silencing them.

“Because of what?”

“We haven’t told him you’re back in town yet,” Will announces, seemingly taking it upon himself to be the spokesperson. “We weren’t sure if you wanted to tell him either.”

“That’s okay,” you say. “I know this is a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but… it’ll be fine.”

“Doubt it,” Benny whispers strictly to Emily, who playfully slaps his shoulder.

“We’re gonna run into each other at some point and we’re gonna have to talk. But until then, I just want to celebrate my return with my dearest friends.”

“Here, here!”

The sound of glasses clinking fills the salon and you all emerge into conversations over dinner. You immediately bond with the girls, discovering more and more about them, and thinking how perfect they are for their respective partners. Then again, either of the Miller brothers would be a great catch.

“So what really brings you back here?” Mia asks you after a while.

“I scored a position as editor at a publication in town. I’ve done business and everything related to it, but I’ve always loved writing, so when this came up… I couldn’t pass it. Especially since it’s in my hometown.”

“I think it’s so great you’re back,” Emily says with a fond smile. “Your whole life is here, your family and friends… you’re living your dream, basically!”

“Almost, yes.”

You don’t tell them how you’re always going to miss a piece of yourself from this very town.

You don’t tell them how much you missed and loathed this place at the same time.

You don’t tell them how you’ve felt incomplete for years, bruised and deceived, unfairly so.

Instead, you finish your meal and your wine and excuse yourself to go to the restroom, trying to organize your thoughts and not let them spiral out of control.

But that takes a turn for the worst.

You freeze on your way to the restroom, in the middle of the restaurant. The face you’re met with is unmistakable, both that of a ghost and of a friend. You can practically feel the color draining from your face and your limbs going cold. You can’t move; you feel frozen in space and time, like there is nothing but the two of you and like no time has passed, but also like an eternity did. Every contradictory sensation you could possibly fathom, it’s right there in your body, swallowing you whole.

Then, a whisper of your name brings you back to earth. Completely shook, you can only murmur one word. The one word you’ve tried so hard to forget.

“Frankie.”

next

[musingsbycaitlin]

HEY! Writeblr Intro!!!

Hi, my name is Caitlin, and I’m a third year Creative Writing student in rainy England. I’ve got a couple WIPs but none are set in stone so you’ll have to bear with me for a while haha.

- I’m here for a good time so my writing is solely based on my mood and vibe at the time, please do not expect consistency.

- I write short stories mainly but am trying to branch out into novels so you’ll hopefully be seeing a bit more of that in the future.

- I am a university student with anxiety and decision fatigue so things change drastically around here every so often but I promise if I go quiet I will come back.

Let’s get into the WIPs (these will be constantly edited and changing) and feel free to ask me any questions about any of them, even ones that might have been removed from this list if you’re interested.

IF I GIVE UP, SO MUST YOU - a Wild West literary fiction novel

STATUS: currently drafting (on hiatus)

GENRE: literary fiction, sapphic romance(?)

CURRENT WORD COUNT: 3,995

Okay, so a bit of info about this project. I started writing it a bit ago purely because I wanted to write a Wild West novel and then it turned sapphic and then it became literary. It follows an unnamed narrator as she navigates life outside of her small town after she is targeted by bandits in a raid. A coming of age novel that explores what it means to figure things out for yourself whilst battling with false truths engrained into your from a young age.

NIGHT SWIMMING (working title) - a short story collection

STATUS: literally haven’t even started :/

GENRE: literary, horror, surrealist

This collection is my version of NaNoWriMo this year because there is no way I can feasibly write a novel in a month where I also have to write my dissertation first draft and three other short stories like no. I’m hoping to do an update on my page whenever a story is complete, so I will also update this section to include the names of all the stories going in. Stay posted is all I’m saying ;). All I know is I want it to explore the everyday in a surrealist way (as most of my stories do).

DAMAGED GOODS - a dystopian sci-fi novel

STATUS: currently drafting (on hiatus)

GENRE: dystopian, sci-if, speculative

CURRENT WORD COUNT: 2,323

So, I haven’t done an intro post to this yet simply because I had to put it to one side once university started again. A brief summary is this: Auden, an average guy, husband, and father, has gotten into a dreadful car accident. In this society, however, surgery is replaced with metal transplantation. Due to Auden’s extensive injuries, he now must live in suburbia with a completely metal head, arm, and leg.

I’m super happy with this concept and the initial 2,000 words I’ve got I’m pretty okay with. The main issue is where to take it and if it will be a full novel or more of a novella.

EAT YOUR YOUNG - a gothic horror novella

STATUS: currently drafting

GENRE: gothic horror

CURRENT WORD COUNT: 4,950

I haven’t done an intro for this project because I honestly wasn’t sure I’d return to it but the spooky season is upon us and I really want to get back into writing this. Brief Summary: Mr Gerard is an accountant hired by the Heron Manor estate to deal with the affairs of the three sisters residing there after a mysterious death of the man of the house.

This is going to me my main personal priority other than my short stories for now and I’ll try to get an intro out soon.

Okay, so that’s all for me folks. Like I said, any questions please feel free to send me an ask or a message, don’t be a stranger. As a writer I always wanna talk about my projects, OCs, and anything else writing craft related!

I’m tagging some mutuals, if you wish to be tagged or removed :( - let me know x

@annlillyjose @dallonwrites @aesa @winterandwords @iannicellis @isherwoodj

[forgottenfourr]

i saw you in a dream - university smau

---------------

chapter five - dreams✏️

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warning: mentions of insanity, insomnia, and partial (very very small mention) of derealization!!

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a/n: from now on soul from p1h and mingyu from svt will also be smaller characters in the story so don’t be confused when they show up randomly in the next chapter!! they are just going to be a fun comedic relief characters :) i will put a short character reintroduction before the next update

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you have struggled with sleeping your entire life. never being able to fall asleep and then when you eventually pass out from pure exhaustion, the sleep was restless. you lost count of the doctors your parents took you to as a kid. each one coming to the same conclusion. there was nothing wrong with you perse. at least, nothing medically wrong. all of them told your parents that you'll grow out of it one day. that there was nothing they could do on their part besides run more tests that would evidently draw no conclusion and would just be a waste of time for both you and the doctors.

so you had to learn to live with it. you held onto hope that one day you would just magically grow out of it. but as the years drew on and you continued to sleep a most 10-15 hours a week, you just grew used to it. it was irritating most of the time. the constant drowsiness and dark circles under your eyes that never seem to go away.

due to your lack of sleep, you’ve never really had dreams before. at least, none that you could remember.

but recently that has changed. it seems now that every time you are able to sleep, even if it is just for a few minutes, you are drifted away into another dream.

but something is different about these dreams. when you wake up, you remember everything that happened in them. most importantly, you remember the boy that’s there in every dream. the boy you can’t seem to recognize. the boy you sworn you’ve never seen before. and you would surly remember him. he’s beautiful. his hair a white blonde and his brown eyes that look as if the entire universe is in them. and for someone you don’t know, you have grown quite fond of him. you don’t understand how he’s always there, his bright and warming smile welcoming you back to wherever this world is with him. but you aren’t complaining about it.

the dreams are long. or well they feel long at least. in the real world you could only be sleeping for 30 minutes but in the dream world you have already been there for days. you like the dream world. you find yourself anxiously waiting for the next time you fall asleep so you can go back there. so you can see mystery boy again.

neither of you ever bothered to ask for each others name. in fact, you guys don’t talk much. it’s more of a mutual understanding that you both are there together and are happy in each others presence. neither feeling the need to break the peaceful silence you have created. you cherish all of the times you guys have spent together. from the time you guys went cliff jumping to when he taught you how to play the guitar. you’re scared that you won’t be able to go back one day. that for some reason the next time you fall asleep there will just be black. even if you don’t understand why these dreams are happening or who he is, you yearn for them. even if it’s all fake. if it is just something your subconscious mind came up with.

of course, you haven’t told your friends about your dreams. sure, jisung might understand. or at least try to. but the others will just think you’re going crazy. which honestly, might be true.

you too have thought about the possibility of these dreams being some sort of sign of insanity or something else of the sort. it would make sense. you’ve been spreading yourself too thin for the past few months. never knowing when to say no and always wanting others around you to feel appreciated and happy. minho is constantly berating you for being a people pleaser, but you don’t know how to stop. and lately, people have taken notice of your kindness and the way you would drop everything instantly to help someone. between work, university, and your social life, you feel your grasp of yourself slowly slipping away from you.

the only thing that keeps you from losing your grip completely are the dreams. they make you feel happy and safe like before. maybe you were relying too much on the dreams but what does it matter? if you're going to have them you might as well enjoy them. enjoy him.

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you got to the studio before chan this time. still reminiscing on the fantasy you were living just moments before.

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[foxes-that-run]

The 1

The 1 is talking to an ex and updating them on her life, we got to see it reenacted at the 2021 Grammys when Folklore won AOTY:

The 1 was written between March and July 2020. It had not been long since Harry and Taylor saw each other, we know of at least at Ed Sheeran's Wedding in September. Lover and Fine Line (on Taylors 30th Birthday) came out since then, 2019 had been a big year.

In the long pond sessions Taylor and Aaron talked about how it reflects the whole album. Which is interesting when Taylor also sang in Gold Rush that her mind turns Harry's life “into folklore”.

I see The 1, Cardigan and Exile as one conversation (I'll get to Betty). From pleasantries, expressing support and then rehashing their end.

Lyrics

[Verse 1] I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit Been saying "yes" instead of "no" I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though I hit the ground running each night I hit the Sunday matinée You know the greatest films of all time were never made

In the long pond sessions Taylor said the opening line has a double meaning, that the sound of folklore was a new direction and that she was being open to new experiences personally.

Taylor has a similar line to the bus stop, in Cardigan, which is almost a continuation of The 1, “I knew I'd curse you for the longest time / Chasin' shadows in the grocery line” both capture that feeling of subconsciously looking for someone

Taylor says she’s busy, hits the ground running and fits as much as she can in. Ironic lines in a pandemic. The matinee line sounds like she made time to see Dunkirk, but maybe that's just me.

“The greatest films of all time were never made.” I love this line, she’s reflecting that their relationship was cut short. She also refers to it as a film later in the conversation in Exile. The wildest dreams music video also refers to them as Taylor and Burton

[Pre-Chorus] I guess you never know, never know And if you wanted me, you really should've showed And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow And it's alright now

In the pre-chorus Taylor reflects on the different views of their relationship in 1989 compared to HS1. They have both said they don’t communicate in person what they can in song.

'If you never bleed your never gonna grow' there is a similar line in Woman on HS1: "he’s right where I should, where I should be but you’re making me bleed”. The reference here is that Harry should have shared his feelings sooner, or then but didn't.

However, in Cruel Summer however, Taylor said "And if I bleed, you'll be the last to know, oh" so it seems mutual to hide their feelings.

In Olivia, Harry said “This isn't the stain of a red wine, I'm bleeding love”

It's alright is a reference to Fine Line's "We'll be a fine line / We'll be alright"

[Chorus] But we were something, don't you think so? Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool And if my wishes came true It would've been you In my defense, I have none For never leaving well enough alone But it would've been fun If you would've been the one (Ooh)

I love “roaring 20’s” like, it refers to both her age and “it was so Gatsby that year” from TIWWCHNT, referring the party 1989 era before the gates shut in Reputation. 20 is a Haylor theme also

Also tossing pennies and wishes reminds you of I wish you would.

ME! Also includes “I can never leave well enough alone”

Taylor has described their relationship as 'like the mall before the internet' in Coney Island, an incredibly fun place.

[Verse 2] I have this dream you're doing cool shit Having adventures on your own You meet some woman on the internet and take her home We never painted by the numbers, baby But we were making it count You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

I love the second verse, she is hoping that her muse is living a happy new life. To me 'adventures on your own' conjures up Harry's post One Direction career. Which it may have been with his second album freshly released.

'We never painted by the numbers' is similar to 'you painted my nights a colour I have searched for since' in Question..?

[Pre-Chorus] I guess you never know, never know And it's another day waking up alone [Bridge] I, I, I persist and resist the temptation to ask you If one thing had been different Would everything be different today?

Taylor has a few songs that explore Haylor What Ifs:

Cardigan "I knew you would haunt all of my what-if's"

INTHAF Imagines what if they had met as children, and

Suburban Legends imagines a fantasy of them surprising the whole school in a 1950's gym, as a metaphor for being a power couple at a high profile event.

Slut! “Aquamarine, moonlit swimmin' pool / What if all I need is you?”

We were something, don't you think so? Rosé flowing with your chosen family And it would've been sweet If it could've been me In my defense, I have none For digging up the grave another time But it would've been fun If you would've been the one (Ooh)

More Haylor rosé since Maroon: "Your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that's how".

Digging up the grave also reminds us of the opening of Look at what you made me do, where Taylor emerges as a Zombie wearing a dress similar to the one she wore in Out of the Woods.

[weak4skz]

Hope is For Suckers

Han Jisung x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, fluff, angst, idol au

Summary: Han and y/n have been friends since before they remember. But what happens if their friendship is severed by an unfortunate situation and Han goes off to be an idol while y/n is in college. When they connect through a mutual friend, what happens then?

Word Count: 1.3k (sorry it's short I'm just trying to get this chapter out)

CHAPTER WARNINGS: eating disorder, negative self talk/thoughts, body dysorphia, a lot of feelings, panic attack

NOT PROOF READ!!!

THIS IS NOT AN ACCURATE REPRESTATION OF THE PEOPLE MENTIONED IN THE FIC

A/N: Sorry for the really late update. I've been really busy and haven't been really motivated to write. I might but HIFS on hiatus until July but idk yet. Thank you for all the support though, I really appreciate it

want2besomeoneelse lixie-jisung-stan jisuperboard mentoslol i-dont-know-me-either mooncallerautumn poisonivy21

this is my current taglist. if your name is in read it means I can't tag you. also please comment if you would like to be added

--------------------------------------------------------------

When we pull into Chan’s designated parking spot I’m so nervous I could puke. 

“Hey,” Chan says, gently putting a hand on my knee to stop its bouncing. “They’ll all love you just as much as I do. But if you still want to go home I’ll drive you ‘kay?”

“No, I want to meet them.” I force out of my mouth. He just nods and we both get out of the car and begin to walk towards the door. When he opens it, the first thing I notice is the smell of freshly baked brownies. Then, I hear yelling and laughing coming from the living room.

“YOU landed on MY property. PAY ME THE DANG FINE.” 

Then I fear another voice scream

“YOU’RE IN JAIL! I’M NOT GIVING MONEY TO A CRIMINAL.”

“THAT’S NOT HOW YOU PLAY!!!” the first screams.

All of this over a game of monopoly? 

“Boys” I mutter with a playful roll of my eyes. “I know right” Chan responds with a small smile.

Chan leads me to the living room. “Hey guys” he greets the six men casually.

“Hey Chan hyung.” one with mid length dark hair and glasses responds. “Who’s that?” he asks, pointing to me.

“This is Y/n. She’s a good friend of mine and older than half of you so show some manners and introduce yourselves.”

“I’m Jeongin” glasses says.

“Seungmin”

“I’m Felix”

“I’m sexy king Hyunjin”

“Man shut up.” the shortest says with a small laugh, “I’m Changbin”

“I’m Minho”

Then they go around again and tell me their ages. But I thought Chan told me they’re were eight members in his group? As I finish my thought, someone bursts in through the door.

“‘Sorry I’m late guys. Oh hi… what’s your name? I’m…”

“Han?”

There is a pause, a moment of silence, and for a second I regret saying anything.

“Uh yea, I’m Han Jisung. How did you know my name?”

“Chan talks about you gusy all the time. I just assumed it was you because you were the only one missing. I’m Y/n''

oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh there is no way HAN JISUNG the man who is (partially) responsible for my villain backstory is the eighth member of Chan’s band

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick” I say, trying to excuse myself from the source of my impending panic attack. I speed walk to Chan’s bathroom and lock the door behind me. Once I get the feeling that I’m safe, I slide my back down the door and sit on the floor, bringing my knees to my chest and burying my head between them. Then I try to regulate my breathing before I start hyperventilating.

Breath in, one two three, breath out. Breath in, one two three, breath out

I repeat it over anad over again until my breathing is as regulated as it is going to get. Then, I get up and fix my mascara and blot away the bits that escaped with my tears.

I walk out of the bathroom and find Chan alone in the kitchen. “Hey Chan, I’m feeling kind of sick so I think I’m going to head home.” 

“Are you okay? You were fine when we were at lunch.” he looked concerned. Great, now I feel bad for lying

“I just got really bad cramps out of nowhere. And you know I get crabby wehen I don’t feel very well.” I try to end the conversation quickly so he doesn’t catch me lying. “Oh, I didn’t know you were on your period. I would have just brought lunch to your place. Let me go get my keys so I can get you home, kay?” 

My period? Ohhhh, he thinks I’m on my period. Thank God he thought I was on my dperiod because I hadn’t thought that far into my lie. While celebrating that little victory, Han walks into the kitchen. 

“Oh hey. I saw you were looking sick and I wanted to come check up on you” he said while grabbing a soda from the fridge. “Yea I just have really bad cramps.” I lied again.

“That sucks,” he started, taking a sip of his fanta. “Hey, I was just wondering if you went to Fairview High School. You kinda look like this girl I used to hang out with.”

“Uh yeah, I went there. I thought I knew you from somewhere but I couldn’t tell.” I responded. ‘A girl I used to hang out with’ huh. Was I really the only one that was thinking about our relationship for the past seven years. Not gonna lie, that kind of hurt. Because up to a couple moments ago I thought very highly of Han, I still considered him a friend. Because he had been my only friend for so long, I sort of held hope that he would be my friend forever. But I was too naive, I should have known he would forget me. I mean, I’m not that memorable; but I thought I would at least be more than a girl he ‘used to hang out with.’

Not a moment later, Chan comes back into the kitchen with my shoes. “Oh, hey Han. The kids are waiting for you so they can start a new game of uno.”

“Ok. Nice catching up with you Y/N.” I mustered the nicest smile I could at the moment and responded with a bitter ‘you too’ before moving to hop off the counter to put on my shoes. 

Chan holds me down by my knees and kneels down to lace up my converse himself. “What were you guys talking about?” he asked after tying the first shoe. “We used to go to the same highschool.”

“Cool, were you guys friends?” Chan asks, now finished with tying both shoes. “I thought so” I mumble, mostly to myself. 

[to-thelakes]

built to fall (4)

pairing; luke alvez x fem!reader

series summary; after having a rough month, the feelings that you had been harbouring for your co-worker finally come to the surface

series warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, smut (later on), mutual pining, discussions of mental health, reader gets drunk, vomiting, suggestive themes, sexual tension, cases that the bau work are also mentioned so the usual warnings for the show apply

warnings for this part; MDNI (minors do not interact) sexual content, tooth-rotting fluff, domestic fluff, smut, oral (m receiving), reader sucks luke off while he's on the phone (idk what kink that is), slight praise kink, soft!dom reader but also not totally sub!luke

notes; right, this is my like second time ever writing a bj so uhm, i'm sorry if it's absolutely atrocious, this is also the last part i have fully written that i'm mostly happy with so this is the last of the updates for today (excuse the spam) but yes! i hope you enjoy the whore-ish fantasies, and there are more to come ;)

tags; @smurfenijsje12 @xoxomoonlightbabe

ao3 / masterlist

previous chapter

The drive to the dog sitter’s had been short but you were grinning the entire time. Being in the car with Luke, basking in his presence made you so smitten. Part of you knew that it was ridiculous to have fallen this hard but you wanted nothing more than to be with him.

Luke had offered that you headed into the house with him to pick Roxy up but you said that you would be fine to wait in the car. You didn’t want to stress Roxy out if she didn’t know who you were. Roxy was well-trained and Luke had tried to tell you that but you wanted to let her approach you if she wanted to.

And she did. The second that Luke had gotten out of the house, thanking the dog sitter profusely, Roxy began to tug on her leash to get to you.

“Oh hello, hello, gorgeous,” You fawned over Roxy as she bounded up to you. The dog frantically sniffed at your legs and hand when you offered it before she looked back at Luke. Then she went back to you and you knelt down to stroke her. Roxy loved the attention and she couldn’t help but nudge into your hands. It seemed that she liked you. Luke was glad.

You scritched around her ears and her tail wouldn’t stop wagging as you mumbled praises to her. Luke watched with an adoring smile, letting you give her all the attention Roxy wanted rather than splitting the two of you up.

“You happy that your dad is home, huh? I would be very happy, now he can give you all the attention that you need, yeah?” You continued to fawn. But then Roxy suddenly turned away from you and looked up at Luke. He chuckled and leant down, stroking Roxy.

“You’re happy to see me, aren’t you?” He said, his voice softened as he gave her all the attention that she had been deprived of while he was away. He then leant forward and pressed a kiss to her head before he stood up, “She’s gonna go in the back so just get in the front,” Luke explained and you nodded. You opened the passenger side and slid into the seat while Luke opened the car door. He coaxed Roxy in and she perched down on the backseat. Then he unclipped the leash and placed it in the footwell before he closed the door.

He then returned to the driver’s seat and glanced back at Roxy. She had settled nicely into the backseat but he noticed how you had moved your hand so that she could nuzzled her nose into it. It was a sweet gesture and Roxy seemed to appreciate the little bit of attention that she got even though she was being relegated to the backseat.

“She’s so cute,” You mumbled as you looked over at Luke. He grinned and started the car up.

“Oh, trust me, I know,” He said before he started to drive back towards his house. You couldn’t help the grin that overtook your face.

-

You squealed as Roxy practically knocked you over. The two of you had been playing tug of war with one of her toys and you had lost your balance, falling onto your ass in Luke’s living room. He was in the kitchen, making drinks for the both of you which meant Roxy had you all to herself.

The dog was on top of you now, still fighting with you for the toy while you giggled and tried to get up but you knew this was her way of asserting her win. You let out a defeated sigh and let go of the toy.

“I give in. You win,” You said to the dog. Roxy seemed happy with that and she clambered off you to go and chew on the toy happily in the corner. But you stayed lying on the floor, giggling to yourself as your arm rested over your eyes. After you had picked Roxy up, the three of you had gone on a walk around the neighbourhood before returning home for some lunch.

Roxy had been given some food and the two of you made rice bowls. The entire day had been so domestic and you felt like you were dreaming. Part of you thought that this would be all some cruel prank but when Luke returned with your glass of water and his coffee, you hoped that this wasn’t all a dream.

“Why are you on the floor?” Luke asked as he walked around the sofa to put the drinks on the coffee table.

“Roxy defeated me,” You said, moving your arm away from your eyes so you could look up at him. He chuckled softly at your words before glancing at the dog. Roxy was happily chewing on her toy in her dog bed. She looked very peaceful and not like the menace that he knew that she really was. He then glanced back at you.

“I think you gave up too easily,” He stated. You scoffed, placing your hand dramatically over your heart.

“I did not! She’s a very good fighter, thank you,” You stated as you pulled yourself to sit up. He nodded, clearly exaggerating the gesture as a way to mock you. You narrowed your eyes and then got to your feet, “If you’re gonna be mean, I’ll leave,” You teased. Luke crossed his arms over his chest, stepping up to the challenge.

“Yeah?” He asked. You nodded. He then grabbed your hips and pulled you into his chest, “You’re all talk, carina,” He said as you looked up at him. You moved your lips to be inches from him.

“Maybe I am but it’s worth it,” You responded. He chuckled and then connected your lips in a soft kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, tugging him down so you could kiss him a little better. But before either of you could escalate it too far, he pulled away.

You pouted but then he asked if you wanted to cuddle and watch shows and you couldn’t deny that that sounded amazing right now. You were honestly still a little tired from the previous night so when he lay down against the couch and gestured for you to drape yourself on top of him, you didn’t waste a second.

In the end, Luke decided that he wanted to show you one of his favourite shows and you enjoyed it for the first few episodes but you were slowly beginning to fall asleep. It wasn’t because of the show but simply because you were exhausted. Luke could see that and he found himself stroking your hair as you began to slip into sleep.

It would only make you more likely to sleep but you needed it more than most people he knew. He wanted that comfort for you.

When you woke again, it was a few hours later. Luke had switched and put on a new movie and was dozing off against the sofa. Roxy had taken her place beside the two of you and she seemed sleepy too. You pressed a soft kiss against Luke’s clothed chest before you snuggled back into him. He let out a mumble of your name and you let the smile spread across your face.

“Hi,” You mumbled as you moved your fingers to trace circles on his chest, “Sorry I fell asleep,” You muttered. Luke mumbled incoherently but you could gather from his tone that he didn’t seem to mind that you had fallen asleep, “I should probably head to my apartment,” You said after a moment. The evening had already begun to draw in and as much as you didn’t want to go back to your own apartment, you were worried about overstaying your welcome.

“Why?” He asked. His words were quiet and as he opened his eyes to look down at you. You tilted your head to the side.

“This is your place,” You responded. He let out a sleepy scoff before he shook his head, tugging you closer to him even though that wasn’t physically possible.

“Our place now, stay another night,” He mumbled. The words were a little clearer than his previous had been and they caught you completely off guard. It slightly terrified you that he had accepted you as part of his life so quickly but you tried not to think about it.

“Are you sure?” You asked softly. He nodded, looking at you properly. He then gently tugged you up his chest, pressing a peck to your lips.

“Stay the night,” He insisted. You didn’t bother to argue with that so simply nodded your head. You definitely weren’t going to deny him. 

“Okay,” You muttered. Your eyes fell closed against and you settled back against his chest. It was soothing.

-

Sunday passed much like Saturday had. The two of you woke up, kissed while Luke was cooking breakfast, took Roxy on a walk, played with her before eventually settling down to watch movies or read a book or play video games. It was a soothing routine and it meant that the two of you felt refreshed for the next week of work.

But spending so much time with him, admiring her, showering together, walking around in his shirt, it meant that the more salacious thoughts began to creep back in. You couldn’t deny that you had been thinking about him like that for weeks but you tried not to push it now that you were getting closer. You didn’t want to push Luke into anything that he didn’t want and you also didn’t want to scare him away.

However, as the two of you ate dinner, the conversation became increasingly more suggestive. You weren’t sure entirely what had happened but you had tried your best to ignore the wetness that began to pool between your legs as you spoke. 

And you had done a pretty good job at ignoring it as you cleaned up and put your plates in the dishwasher but as you sat on the sofa with him, it quickly became harder to ignore. His arm was wrapped around you, fingers slipping under your shirt to caress the skin of your hip. Everything he did was maddening.

The longer the two of you sat there, the more you squirmed. Your thighs pressed together in hopes of relief that never came. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the feeling growing between your legs. It was overpowering and you decided that you need to take a break to hopefully calm yourself down. 

So, you mumbled to Luke that you were going to the bathroom and you walked over to it. Once the door was pulled closed, you turned to stare at yourself in the mirror, willing yourself to hold it together but it was hard. It was hard when he was right there and you could still remember the sound of his moan when you tugged on his hair yesterday. 

You desperately wanted to hear it again. You needed to. That desperate little whimper had been playing on your mind and you needed to get your mouth on him, make him feel good. Every part of you was on fire for him and you didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

But in your best attempt to calm yourself down, you splashed water onto your face and took a deep breath. You used the towel to wipe the water away before you looked at yourself in the mirror again. You could do this. If you just made it through this night, you could go home after work tomorrow and satisfy that aching feeling between your legs. It would be fine.

With one more deep breath, you exited the bathroom but something had changed. As you walked into the living room, you noticed that Roxy had vanished. Luke was still lounging back but his legs had spread a little wider. You could so easily slot yourself between them and do what you had been desperate to do for weeks but you stopped yourself.

No. He was just relaxing. You couldn’t take it like that.

You walked back over to the couch and dropped down beside him, letting your head rest against his shoulder. 

“Everything alright?” He asked. You nodded your head and then you felt his hand slide onto your inner thigh, squeezing it softly, “Good,” He muttered. It was hard to ignore that warm presence and it was making you ache even more. He had to know what he was doing but his eyes were fixed on the TV. He was driving you mad and he must have known it.

Rather than focusing on the feeling of his hand on your leg, you tried to focus on the show that Luke had put on. But then his hand shifted and you really couldn’t ignore it this time. He was inches away from your clothed cunt and it was driving you mad. He was driving you insane. If he just shifted his hand a little further, he would feel the wet spot that he had caused you.

But you didn’t want him to touch you just yet. You wanted him moaning for you. 

“Luke,” You mumbled softly. He let out a hum of acknowledgement but was acting like his hand wasn’t almost exactly where you needed him, “Did you send Roxy upstairs?” You asked after a beat.

“Yeah,” He responded. The roughness to his voice had you internally begging for him. Your eyebrows furrowed and you stared down at where his hand rested and it slowly started to click. This was all on purpose. Of course, it was. He was Luke. 

He must have noticed how you were squirming. Was that his goal all along? There’s no way he could have known but you weren’t gonna let him take control of the situation that easily. You had been wanting to get his cock in your mouth for weeks and you knew that if you didn’t make the first move, you weren’t gonna get that wish.

So, you placed your hand over his and gently lifted it away. His eyebrows furrowed and he turned his head to look down at you but when he saw the devious look in your eyes, he knew that he was in for it. You placed his hand against his own thigh before slipping off the couch and onto the floor. You slotted between his legs, looking up at him/

“What are you doing, carina?” He asked. You moved your hands to rest against his thighs, fiddling with the fabric of his jeans.

“I’m finally giving you what I told you you’d get,” You smirked before you let your hands trail up to the zip of his jeans, “If that’s what you want?” You asked, looking up at him through your lashes. He nodded. You grinned and then focused on his jeans, unbuttoning them before pulling the zipper down. You then gently tugged on them and he helped you push them down his legs.

His thighs were built. Thick muscles running beneath the skin and you let your fingers trail across them. Luke let out a breathy noise as you admired him, fingers running up to his crotch. You palmed at his erection and he let out a choked whimper.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” You asked. He let out another groan as you palmed him through his boxers again. If you kept it up, he wasn’t sure you were going to get to do what you clearly so desperately wanted, “Lift up,” You said as you tugged on his boxers. He lifted his hips up and you pulled the boxers off, taking him in.

He was already half-hard, cock rested against his stomach. He was bigger than you had expected and as you moved your hand to gently take a hold of him, you noticed that the tip was already red and weeping for you. A smirk spread across your face and you spat into the palm of your hand before you wrapped your hand around him and moved it up and down.

He was quickly fully hard against you and you moved your cheek to rest against his thigh. He was so sensitive and as you moved your hand up and down slowly, he was already groaning. His eyes were locked onto the way your hand moved up and down, your thumb running over his tip before you returned back to your slow, lazy movements.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” You asked as you leant forward to gently lick the tip of him. He groaned at the sensation, eyes briefly squeezing shut before he looked down at you. You lifted your gaze to meet his, “I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks,” You admitted before you refocused back on his cock. 

Starting from the bottom, you slowly licked up the side before you licked up the beads of pre-cum that were dripping from him. His eyes had fallen closed again as you got your first real taste of him. His cum was salty and tangy but it didn’t bother you as much as it used to. You dipped your head back down again and let the tip of him slip between your plush lips.

The loud groan that escaped his lips had you getting wetter by the second. The noises he was making were driving you crazy and you had only just begun. You wanted to hear every little noise he made, you wanted him to be at your mercy. 

You pulled back again after a moment, teasing him a little with kitten licks before you pressed a few kisses to the tip of his dick. He was groaning, head thrown back as his fingers dug into the couch cushions, desperate to keep himself under control. Part of him wanted to grab your hair and fuck your face but he wanted you to control this. At least, for now.

“You’re so pretty,” You commented as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock. You lifted your head up from his thigh and used your grip on him to direct him to your mouth. Then you used your tongue to lick the underside of him, feeling every vein as he practically whimpered at the movement. You smirked, watching his face as you repeated the motion. You were teasing him at this point. It was cruel but you wanted to savor him, “Baby,” You whispered softly and his eyes reopened. His cock was rested against your chin as you moved your hand to grab his. You then gently moved it into your hair, “I don’t mind if it hurts,” You reassured him before you took him into your mouth again. It wasn’t just the tip this time. Instead, you worked on getting every inch of him into you, taking him to the hilt before you hollowed out your cheeks, lifting your head up. 

The movement broke him. He let out a loud moan as he threw his head back against the couch, his fingers tightening in your hair. You continued to bob your head up and down, taking a slow and gentle rhythm but making sure to take every inch of him every single time. You wanted to savor this. Savor the feeling of him in your mouth and what it felt like to have him completely under your control because you doubted this was gonna happen very often. 

Your hands rested against his thighs as you continued your movements, lifting up every few seconds to pay special attention to his tip. Your tongue flicked across it, flattening out before you took all of him in again.

He moaned your name as he gripped your hair, tugging at the roots which made you groan against him. His self-restraint was hanging by a thread and when he felt your groan vibrate along his cock, it snapped. He quickly found himself bucking up into your mouth. The first time he did it, you nearly choked on him, eyes filling with tears but you started to move with him. His hand in your hair guiding you.

He was losing it, the pleasure taking over and you loved it. Curses, whimpers of your name and pleas fell from his lips as he continued to thrust up into you, taking complete control of it. He was using you however he wanted and you felt the slick soaking your panties. His thrusts became harsher, cock hitting the back of your throat as you forced yourself to breathe through your nose. His fingers were gripping your hair and you were getting wetter by the second. 

Well, that was until you heard a phone ringing. Luke groaned.

“Fuck,” He whimpered as your hand quickly rested over his. He loosened his grip, deriving himself of the release he so desperately craved so you could lift off to work out whose phone was ringing. You looked a mess, your hair was mussed, spit at the corners of your mouth, eyes teary. You looked destroyed and Luke found himself somehow more attracted to you.

But he was distracted from your beautifully messy appearance when you grabbed his ringing phone from the coffee table. When you turned it over, you saw that Garcia was calling.

“Garcia,” You explained as you handed the phone over. Both of you knew that this meant a case otherwise you would have ignored it. Luke’s eyes were blown-wide with lust. He looked so pretty for you and so wrecked after he had used you. You wanted to take him again but you refrained as he averted his gaze. Then he answered the call.

“Hey, Garcia. What’s up?” He asked. You heard her beginning to talk on the other end and you rested your head back against his thigh. You bit your lip, taking in the sight of his swollen tip. He looked so delectable and you knew that he had been deprived of his release. Maybe, you could still help him get that. 

A devious smirk spread across your face as you shifted your hand to move up to his dick. You swept your thumb over the slit and Luke had to bit his tongue to stop a groan from escaping. He glanced down at you but you didn’t pay him much attention.

“Does Emily want all of us in?” He asked as you slowly began to take him into your mouth. His words faltered when he felt the heat of your mouth around him but he was managing to keep up appearances, somewhat. Penelope was talking again and you pushed your head down, taking him all the way to the hilt again. His head fell back against the sofa and he let out a soft groan. You heard Garcia on the other end say that she understood it was annoying but duty calls. Little did she know that he was groaning for a very different reason.

You began to bob your head again and Luke’s face contorted into one of pleasure. The soft, slow movements were completely different to the rough control he had on you a moment ago. His eyes scrunched shut as his hand fisted in your hair again. He easily could have pulled you to stop but it seemed that this turned him on as much as it did you.

“Don’t bother calling her. She’s,” Luke faltered, biting his lips to prevent a groan escaping before he continued, “She’s in the kitchen. I’ll tell her- tell her.” He was becoming breathless as he tried to keep his composure the best he could over the phone but you were making it incredibly difficult. The warmth of your tongue against him, the slow movements that dragged out every tendril of pleasure. It was like torture. 

You kept bobbing your head up and down, tongue licking at the prominent veins and every few bobs, you sucked and kissed at the tip of his dick. He could feel his edge getting closer as he began to buck up into you again.

“It’s not- not like that,” He stammered out but you had tuned Garcia out now. Instead, focused on moving with Luke’s shallow thrusts and getting him closer and closer to the edge that you knew he was teetering towards, “I’ll talk to you soon, alright.” He said abruptly. You smirked up at him, briefly meeting his gaze before speeding up again.

The moan he let out only a second after he hung up the call was obscene. His head threw back and he gripped on your hair, helping move you up and down.

“That’s it, baby,” He praised as he squeezed his eyes shut, “Fuck, I can’t believe- Fuck- can’t believe you did that.” He moaned out curses as you continued to move up and down. You could tell he was close. His thighs were quivering, his grip was tightening and you wanted to take him over the edge. So, you kept moving, running your tongue on the underside of his cock before he suddenly shoved your head down all the way to the hilt. 

Your eyes watered, nearly choking on him as he held you in place. He then thrusted up into your mouth, two, three shallow thrusts before he was spilling into you. You forced yourself to breathe through your nose, swallowing down everything he was giving you as he worked himself through the orgasm. 

But once he was done, he let go of your hair and you slowly pulled off him. You gave his tip a gentle kiss which caused him to shiver, completely overstimulated by you. You watched as his cock softened before you fell back on your knees. 

Luke’s eyes were still closed, his entire body relaxed as his hands rested at his sides. He looked completely fucking destroyed and you could get used to the sight of him like this. A smirk spread across your face as you watched him breathe. 

Then, his eyes blinked open and he looked down at you. You were grinning, clearly very pleased with yourself which just made Luke roll his eyes before he sunk further into the couch.

In his blissed out state, he didn’t even notice as you crawled into his lap and curled up against him. Your head rested against his chest, listening to the thrumming of his heart before he wrapped his arms around you. His skin was sweaty and warm but you loved knowing that you were responsible for it. He had cum down your throat. You felt victorious.

“We’ve got a case,” He muttered.

“I know,” You said before you leant forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He was still panting, trying to get his breathe back as you settled back into him, 

“ Next time, this is gonna be about you,” He said lowly. His tone made you shiver and the wetness in your panties just seemed to get worse. He rested his forehead against your shoulder, letting his fingers slip down your front and underneath your sweatpants. He slipped his fingers into your underwear and before he even reached your slit, he could tell that you were wet.

“We need to go,” You reminded him softly before he could get distracted. He nodded and slowly removed his hand from your slit.

“I’ll deal with it later.”

<3

next chapter

[lively-potter]

— part one

SYNOPSIS ;

─ in which river henshaw,

     charleston's very own

     introverted and innocent

      baker by night slash daycare worker

      by day, runs away from jungkook

     jeon and his adorable

    daughter, moon, when all jungkook

     wants is to ask her out on a date.

ACTS ;

act one ; incomplete

act two ; incomplete

act three ; incomplete

WARNINGS ;

mutual pining

he falls first

body insecurities mentioned

eating disorder mentioned

social anxiety

mature themes

mature language

violence ( not directed at MFC )

slight bdsm themes ( like bondage and shit )

angst ( should I make y'all suffer more in this one?)

when it's time for the smuttttt, i'll put warnings.

EXTRA INFO ;

jeon jungkook x river aldora henshaw

brett west x blackbourne team

sang sorenson x toma team

kayli winchester x blake coaltar

atlas korba x wil winchester

started ; January 1st, 2023

plot change ; January 17th,  2023

posted ( on Wattpad ) ; January 18th, 2023 at 2:50 pm

completed ;

edited/revised ;

SMALL A/N ;

also, my characters, Atlas Korba and Brett West ( from my book, Brett ) will have appearances!

I'M FREAKIN' SHAKING IN EXCITEMENT FOR THIS!

DISCLAIMER ;

2024 © @LivelyPotter

All Rights Reserved

You may not reproduce,

distribute/and or adapt

any part of this work

without my permission

I only own my original characters and the plot.

PLAYLIST ;

Morally Grey ; April Jai

Fictional ; Khloe Rose

Suffer ; Sarah Jeffery

Cruel Summer ; Taylor Swift

Greedy ; Tate McRae

Haegeum ; Agust D

Like Crazy ; Jimin

Take Two ; BTS

Love me again ; V

Still with you ; Jungkook

My Time ; Jungkook

Somebody ; Jungkook

Standing Next To You ; Jungkook

She's all I wanna be ; Tate McRae

My You ; Jungkook

Butterfly ; BTS

Dimple ; BTS

3D ; Jungkook

Exes ; Tate McRae

Hurt my Feelings ; Tate McRae

Run for the Hills ; Tate McRae

Sweet but Psycho ; Ava Max

Dangerously ; Charlie Puth

Spring Day ; BTS

Bloodline ; Ariana Grande

Want that Too ; Tate McRae

Shot Glass Full of Tears ; Jungkook

Closer to you ; Jungkook

Yes or No ; Jungkook

Please don't Change ; Jungkook

NOTE ;

Hi, everyone!

I'm so excited to be able to start writing the first chapter and I hope that you look forward to it! Be sure to add this book to your reading list or reblog to know when I update!

MOST IMPORTANT NOTE ; ( to those not familiar with the academy series by C.L. Stone )

I know I'm gaining more readers, those who aren't familiar with the academy, so I'll do a short explanation of what you'll be seeing from the academy!

In short, the academy series is a reverse harem/polyamory series set in Charleston, South Carolina.

( so you'll be seeing multiple men date the same women in this book, so don't be shocked lmfaoo )

The academy ( that MFC won't be much involved in ) is basically a top secret organization that specializes in helping men, women, and children who are in an abusive relationship or homes and help them get out of that — most join the academy to help others in the same situations.

There are teams that work together and are basically a family in all but blood; and "family is a choice".

The men in teams are referred to as "dogs" and the female team members are referred to as "birds". 'Ghosts', whether birds or dogs, are children without much history to their names. They are priceless to the Academy.

The Academy's system works on a series of favor and financial debt. Everyone in the Academy starts out with financial debt. It's the value of the education an Academy student requires to become the best at what he does. If it was a private investigation training class or an eight-week boot camp, or you were starving and needed groceries to get through a human biology class, the Academy took care of it. Your debt can't just be paid off directly, it requires completing various Academy missions. Whatever it is, there is a price tag.

Favors though are the real core of the Academy. Favors are anything that doesn't have a price - usually family problems within the Academy that other members can't handle alone. New members owe ten favors immediately, with the maximum owed being thirty. The value of a task in favors varies depending on the task.

All Academy trials are comprised of the same parties: the whole team, plus five randomly selected members from other teams, presided over by a manager who has collected all the data. There is no age minimum for the randomly selected members, the only requirement is that they had to be past initiation and a full member of the Academy. The ultimate goal at a trial is to keep the family together as much as possible.

Each team has two leads. The first is the main contact for the Academy, they track the jobs the members go on, and let them know what jobs are available. The second is the family lead, who keeps track of all the team members, and makes sure that everything runs smoothly for them - ensuring they have food, bills are paid on time, and everyone that needs a job has one.

Most of this information is from the academy wiki site ( 'cause it's fuckin' complicated to explain it all )

but I want you all to be able to understand it enough to enjoy the story without being confused!

Most of the time, I'll explain through River and my other characters.

I hope this makes sense!

River won't be very involved in the academy, but there will be mentions and most of River's story revolves around, not only Jungkook and Moon, but River's brothers, friends, and family!

Please let me know if there is anything that you'll misunderstand and I'll explain to the best of my ability!

- LivelyPotter

[ceilidho]

Hi, really strange question, so feel free to ignore, but how do you deal with the constant surge of content - art, really. You seem to be a generally more well known/viewed blog, and so I'm sure you've developed quite a community on here, whether it be people you know or interactions with other artists. And I've been following you for quite some time, and I always get excited when I see the "updated now" for your blog. But (here is my actual question), do you ever get overwhelmed knowing that you can't read/see/experience everything? I'm very new to social media, and online spaces in general, and it's generated this fear in me that if I don't keep up with what has been posted by those I follow, I am now suddenly lost. Missing a piece of what should have been catalogued in my mental history. Fanfiction has become such a relief in my life now, and I've gained this new appreciation for human creativity and the beauty of sharing yourself in your art. But I am constantly left wondering that if I miss something, will I also miss an opportunity. I love learning more, and reading, and viewing; appreciating beauty in this lifetime, but I don't know how to combat the overwhelming feeling when I cannot keep up with those who I admire, what's left of me, simply as a viewer?

Oh absolutely!!!! I wrote about this in another post around the traditional publishing industry in general and this overwhelming sense of FOMO that’s super evident in both readers and writers (for readers, that they won’t be part of the current discourse and won’t be part of the reading community, and for writers that they won’t keep up with demand and lose their reader base to other more prolific writers or just to new trends in general because to be honest, the constant microtrends in the book community are hard to keep up with even if you are a relatively fast writer).

I think I’m lucky that for some reason I tend to write very fast - I have a solid backlist of ideas, when I do sit down to write it tends to all come out at once, I (fingers crossed) haven’t dealt with a really bad bout of writers block in awhile - but yeah even I sometimes have moments where I feel guilty that I’m not writing enough. I think it’s super easy to feel like people are simply going to forget about you if you take any time off or if you start a multi chaptered fic and it takes you awhile to finish it.

And I won’t lie, sometimes that pressure isn’t just imagined! Most people that leave comments like “more people!” “Part 2??” “I need more of this!!” are simply expressing their love and I understand that, like I’m not completely insensitive to that (some creators tend to take it very very personally and I understand that too but I think we all have to have a little bit of grace and understanding and give each other the benefit of the doubt), but I will say that I have gotten some seriously rude comments before about taking too long to finish a fic. There is a grain of truth to the fear that some readers will lose their patience with you for simply taking your time to write.

I experience this more as a “creator” rather than a reader (tbh I don’t feel much guilt about not being able to keep up with what my mutuals are posting because I know it’s always there for me when I’m ready) - although actually now that I’m saying this, I take that back. I do sometimes feel very very guilty when I don’t have time to get into a friend’s fic. Oh wow yeah that was a huge lie, I DEFINITELY have felt extremely guilty before about not having enough time to read someone’s fic and feeling like I’m letting them down in some way and not adequately supporting them. Yikes. Goes to show ya.

I am hoping that as more and more people become aware of this that people will start appreciating slowness and ephemerality - taking your time to read or write something, starting incomplete fics just to appreciate them even if they’re short lived or never completed, forgiving yourself for not being able to read everything or write everything right now and realizing that you’ll get to it when you get to it. It’s easier said than done and I do feel guilty sometimes about perpetuating this by being a very fast writer, but yeah! Unfortunately it’s sort of on each of us to do this since the very medium of social media demands instant gratification - tumblr and ao3 (the latter by virtue of being an archive) are perhaps the least egregious of them, but it’s definitely in the nature of social media to induce this kind of behaviour.