#who are known for being incredibly passionate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

purplecoffee13 · 18 days

Text

NFWMB - part 1

Summary: “Harry is a retired boxer who owns a gym and teaches self-defense classes. He considers himself a strong man, but when a gorgeous innocent woman attends a try-out class, she manages to leave him weak in the knees…”

Wc: 4.3k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and SA

A/N: hello everyone! This is my new series NFWMB, named after one of Hozier’s most horny songs😄. I am so incredibly excited for this series omg it’s gonna be so good!!! If you don’t believe me, go listen to NFWMB and you’ll get a vague idea of what’s coming ;)

P.S. header = pov change

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Harry Styles was not one for regrets.

His life may not have turned the way he expected it to, but he was still proud of where he had come.

Being a professional boxer was a risky job, and Harry had known that when he had decided that it was going to be his career. But there was no other logical option. Harry was an exceptional boxer who was able to go pro at age 18, where he defeated a lot of men who were older and bigger than him.

It was his passion, it always had been. Which was something that was quite remarkable, especially to his closer family members, because Harry was anything but a violent person in his day to day life. He was quite reserved, and managed his temper very well. The years in the boxing ring did harden him quite a bit, his reserved nature developing into something more akin to stoicism.

Nevertheless, Harry loved boxing. It wasn't so much a fight to him, but more of a puzzle. Each opponent had its own made up riddle, and it was up to Harry to solve it as quick as possible. Much like a dance you learn the steps to along the way. A perfect combination of intuitive technique.

He hadn't planned on having to retire at the age of 27 already. It was supposed to be his peak; it had been for almost all boxers in history, and he was looking forward to how far he would be able to push his body during his prime.

He never got the opportunity to get an answer to those questions. A car accident got in the way.

He wouldn't have been able to stop it, he knew that, and he had forbidden himself from thinking about what could've happened had he not taken that specific road back home that horrible night. There was nothing he could do about it now, so there was no point in dwelling on it.

After a year of recovery, he was slowly able to get back into the rhythm of his old life again. Well, except for the boxing part. Knowing that his career in that field was over, he began thinking about some other options of his, and decided on fulfilling another dream of his: opening a gym.

He had always wanted to do it, but he always imagined to be retired by the time he would start on that.

Now, two years later, his gym was already in multiple locations, but Harry was still working at the first one he opened. He would visit the other ones every once in a while to see how everything was going, but he was mainly at the one nearest to his house. It was special to him, the place where it all started.

Despite running the place, and therefore not needing to be on location all the time, Harry was at the gym 24/7. He wasn't a personal trainer—wasn't really his style—but he would help people and teach self defense classes to women.

Every Thursday between 6 and 9, he would teach groups of ten women everything they needed to know on defending themselves from whatever threat they may run into. It was one of the things he was proudest of; the turn out at those classes. That these women put their trust in him, and let him help them become even tougher than they already were.

Tonight, after teaching the last group, Harry had gone to the bar with some of his friends. One of them was Sophie, a woman he had become friends with since she'd joined his self defense class. She was a great person with an impeccable sense of humor, and Harry was glad he had introduced her to Greg, his best friend. They were basically made for each other.

Harry had to admit that he envied his friend for the relationship he had. He was happy for them, but sometimes couldn't help but think that his lack of a partner was this one puzzle piece that would make his life even better. All in good time, he reminded himself.

"Hey," Sophie caught Harry's attention when she waved her hand in front of his face. His gaze shot to hers, eyebrows raised. "So, I was talking about your self defense class today at work. You know, promoting your business and all."

Harry chuckled at the cocky tone in which Sophie told her story, chin up high. He mumble a soft 'thanks', to which she grinned.

"You're welcome. Anyways, I have this new colleague and she seemed so intrigued by it, but she was too insecure about joining. I mean— she didn't outright say that, but I could just tell." She huffed, Greg rubbing her back. Sophie was a very happy person in general and wanted the best for everyone, this new colleague of hers included. Harry had the same habit, it's why he immediately suggested:

"Why don't you invite her along next week? A free try-out."

"But your try-out classes aren't for another two weeks." Sophie noted.

It was true. The self defense classes had become very popular, and since Harry taught them himself, he had scheduled one night of try-out classes a month. He was only able to take on so many people, but he didn't mind making this exception.

"She can join your regular class." Harry shrugged, and Sophie's eyes beamed with excitement.

"Thank you Harry!" She squealed happily, giving Greg a hug to channel her enthusiasm. "Oh, I hope she'll come along!"

"I'm sure she will." Harry assured her with a smile, and took another sip from his beer.

Y/N had never been one for risks.

She had never been the type of person to take the leap of faith, relying more on familiar feeling of security. Why risk hurting yourself when you could be safe and content?

It was the logic she had always operated with, the logic she had been taught from a very young age. Y/N had had a sheltered upbringing. Her parents wanted her and her little brother to be as safe as possible, and that was just fine to Y/N.

Her little brother was the more feisty one of the two, and his childhood consisted of a lot of fighting. It hurt Y/N to see the people she loved so much be so angry all the time, and it only motivated her to be as good as possible. She never drank, smoked, or went to parties. She turned in her homework early and got an A on almost every test. It did put a strain on her relationship with her brother, especially since Y/N's behavior would be used as ammunition towards him.

They still didn't talk all too much, but Y/N hoped that one day, she could repair that relationship again.

Moving a few towns away was a big deal for her parents, but the wonderful job she had gotten as a secretary at quite a prestigious law firm had made it all worth it. They helped her with moving into her apartment, but Y/N would regularly visit them on both weekdays and on the weekends. All in all, she'd had a safe, comfortable, content life.

Until a few months ago.

It was a Friday night, and Y/N had agreed to a date. One of the lawyers at the firm, Oscar, had been flirting with her ever since she started working there. Not wanting to be impolite, Y/N never outright rejected him, and so the flirting continued. She was a bit uncomfortable about it — especially since he was nearing his forties and she was only 23 — but figured the banter was part of the job. She was so shocked when he did ask her to go on a date, she said yes.

It wouldn't be too bad, she figured. She would just go on the date and tell him she wasn't interested afterwards. It could be casual, and no one would be too hurt. The date was definitely out of her carefully moderated comfort zone, but she would step out of it for one night.

The date was fine. Like she had expected, she wasn't interested in Oscar in a romantic way. Still, she listened to his stories, laughed right on cue at all his jokes, and told some of her own anecdotes as well. The dinner was great, and he even offered to walk her home.

They were nearing Y/N's apartment when Oscar had suddenly slowed down his walking pace. She only noticed when she was a few feet away from him, and walked back to where Oscar was standing.

"Are you okay? We're almost there, I promise." Y/N smiled politely, much like she did in the office. Oscar didn't say anything in response, only the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly.

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" He complimented her, and Y/N looked at her feet, not quite knowing how to handle the flattery.

"Thank you." She said softly, and froze when Oscar's fingers tilted her chin upwards. Her eyes widened when he suddenly leaned in and put his mouth on hers. After the first few seconds of pure shock slowly passed, Y/N pulled her head back.

Not getting the hint, Oscar grinned and leaned in again, this time with both his hands on her face. Y/N let out a yelp, stumbling backwards. Her body's alarm bells were ringing so loudly, but Oscar must've been deaf to her body language because he backed her up against the wall and kept kissing her.

Y/N cried out as she tried to push Oscar off with her hands, but he only grabbed them and pinned them above her head. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she lifted her knee and kicked him right in the crotch. Oscar shot backwards, groaning loudly as his grip finally loosened on her. He looked incredibly angry.

"What the fuck?!" He bellowed, standing up straight again. Y/N's lip quivered, tears running down her face.

"You wouldn't stop." She said softly, almost in a whisper. Her entire body was shaking from the adrenaline. Oscar's mouth opened to say something, but the conversation got interrupted.

"Oscar!" A woman's voice shouted from down the street. He turned his head, and his face morphed from sheer rage into a lovely smile, the same one he always put up for Y/N back in the office.

"Sophie!" He said, but the mention of her name sounded strained. Sophie... Y/N recognized her name, but she hadn't ever met the woman. She was one of the three female lawyers at the firm. Had been working there for only five years, but her reputation was so badass, everyone knew who she was.

"What are you doing out tonight?" Sophie asked as she gave Oscar a hug, and turned to Y/N. "Who's this?"

"This is Y/N." Oscar replied. "She's a secretary at the firm."

"Nice to meet you." Y/N extended her hand, and Sophie shook it.

"Nice to meet you too! How come I've never seen you around?" She tilted her head.

"I— I work on a different floor."

"Well, I'm glad I met you, Y/N!" She said, the kindness in her tone being a real comfort after that scary moment she just had to live through. Somewhere in the way she said it, and in the way her eyes softened slightly, it almost felt like Sophie knew.

"I— I should go. It's getting pretty late." Y/N decided that this could be her sweet escape.

"Right, I'm gonna bring Y/N home." Oscar said, and your eyes shot to him. Anxiety filled your lungs until all you could breathe was fear. You didn't want to be alone with him. You had no idea what he would be able to do to you. What were you going to do about it? You weren't even half as strong as he was.

"Oh, which way is it?" Sophie asked, turning to Y/N, who was about to open her mouth but got interrupted by Oscar.

"That way." He pointed toward the direction of Y/N's house. Sophie side eyed her colleague, then nodded.

"Exactly the way I was going! Let's go." She hooked her arm into Y/N's, and began walking, ranting about how it was unacceptable that they didn't work on the same floor.

Y/N wordlessly nodded along, filled with gratefulness to Sophie or the universe—or both—for not leaving her alone with Oscar again.

She got home safely about five minutes later, not daring to look Oscar in the eyes as she hugged him and said goodbye, and she only allowed her tears to fall down her cheek when she closed her front door.

Y/N spent the rest of the weekend in bed, not in the mood to do anything. By Monday, she felt both better and worse. She had had some time to come down from the shock of what happened, but the terror that filled her at the realization that she was to see Oscar again, had her stomach turn. On Monday morning, she even got into work late as a result of a wave of nausea that hit her once she'd grabbed her keys, spending the time she used to drive to work to puke her guts out instead.

Later, she'd found out that Oscar had called in sick that day. It gave her some time and space to breathe. Sophie visited her the same day, and she hadn't stopped visiting since.

Oscar did eventually return to work, but they never talked anymore. Y/N didn't dare to look him in the eye, and she avoided him at all costs. One day, about two weeks after everything happened, she did see him waiting by her cubicle, but she hid in the toilet for half an hour and by the time she returned he was gone.

It had been two months since that horrible event, and Y/N had entirely isolated herself. Back to the normal routine, back to what was familiar. It gave her a sense of control. She was fragile, and sensitive. She had just pressed down her sadness and anxiety that lingered as a result from the date, and instead focused entirely on what she could control.

She figured it would be easier. Well, except for the mental breakdowns she'd get when something small didn't go right. The dishes not being cleaned, her vacuum not taking up every speck of dust; it just set her off. It wasn't healthy, but she had no idea how else to deal with these things.

When Sophie mentioned she was following self-defense classes a couple weeks ago, Y/N's ears had perked up. She tried to be subtle about it; asking questions to pry some information about the classes from her. But, being the amazing lawyer she was, it didn't go over Sophie's head, and before she knew it she had an invite to a class.

"See you next week!" Harry exclaimed as the last of the women from the 7pm class left the room. He was still busy putting everything back into place before the next class which would commence in about five minutes.

He was just about done with everything when Sophie walked in, another girl walking in close behind her. Harry couldn't really make up her face, as she stayed closely behind Sophie, even upon nearing him.

Sophie looked proud, probably feeling very accomplished about the fact that she had been able to convince this colleague of hers to take her up on her offer.

"Hey!" She greeted Harry cheerfully, giving him a quick hug. He was still smiling when he turned to the woman standing next to Sophie. His mouth went a bit dry when he took in her face.

"Harry, this is Y/N."

For starters, she was a bit shorter than Sophie, and quite frail too. Her hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her features to be admired out in the open. Her eyes were soft—radiating mostly insecurity at the moment—and wide. Those Bambi eyes and plump, rosy lips...

She looked so... innocent?

He wasn't sure if it was the right word, but he was sure that he had to say something before the silence became too long.

"Hi Y/N." He repeated her name, seeing the slightest flicker of surprise run through the eyes of the woman in front of him. But the slight relaxation of her body told him that his usual trick was working. It was a typical 'strategy' that he would often use with people who were a bit unsure about him. His voice would soften, he would always wear a hint of a smile on his face, and he'd repeat people's names to create a bit more of a familiar environment. It always worked, and he was glad it did. He never wanted anyone, especially a woman, to feel uncomfortable around him.

"Hi." The corners of her mouth tugged up.

Angel.

That's all he could think of as he looked at her. Jesus Christ, she was beautiful.

"Thank you for joining the class. You don't have to join in on everything if you don't feel comfortable. Just observe and see if this is something you would like to practice more often, okay?"

The girl in front of him nodded intently the second he had finished talking. Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she peeped out an, "okay."

Harry grinned, his gaze shooting to Sophie—who was looking at him with this suspicious look on her face that she only got once in a while—before calling everyone in a circle and commencing the class.

This girl, Y/N, turned out to be a real distraction for him. He was so focused on trying to read how she was feeling that he trailed off during explanations a couple times. It was embarrassing, really. He was a grown man for God's sake, why couldn't he just concentrate?

Y/N only joined in for a couple of the basic movements, but she stayed back for most of the class. Her big eyes observed every movement Harry and the others made, impressed with how developed everyone seemed to be in their techniques. He noted that it only seemed to make her more timid, though.

His eyebrows kept knitting every time he looked at her, getting lost in his thoughts on how he could help her become more comfortable in his class. She'd caught his stare about halfway through the class, and at the way her eyes shot to the floor he realized that his gaze was actually doing the completed opposite of what he wanted to do, which was help her.

When the class ended, Harry gave his usual speech about how good everyone had done their job, and that he would see them all next week. Afterwards there would always be a couple of women hanging around to ask questions, and he would stop a few on their way out to compliment their improvements. When the rest of the women had left, Sophie walked up to Harry, Y/N following closely behind.

"Great class, Styles. Thanks for teaching me some ass kicking again." She teased, smiling at him before she took a sip from her water bottle. Harry chuckled, shaking his head faintly.

"Glad you liked it." He turned to Y/N. "What about you?"

Her cheeks started heating up, mouth falling open ever so slightly. "M— me? Oh, uhm, yeah, pretty good."

"I'm going to use the bathroom really quick, I'll be right back." Sophie chimed in, and began walking towards the door. "Keep her company for me, will ya Styles?"

Harry almost laughed at how Y/N's eyes nearly popped out of her sockets at Sophie's announcement. She was nervous around him, and it was quite endearing, but she didn't need to be. Although it was very cute, Harry wanted her to be comfortable around her.

"You hated it, didn't you?" He said as soon as Sophie was out of sight. Harry was amused, watching Y/N scramble for words when she realized what he had said.

"What? No, no of course not! You're great! Teacher— you're a great teacher, I mean." She stumbled over every last one of her words, making it sound even less convincing than it already was, even though she did really mean it.

Harry solely raised his eyebrow, indicating that he did not buy any of that, and it was all it took for her shoulders to slump and a little sigh to leave those pretty lips of hers.

"It's really not you, I promise. I just get... a bit nervous in group settings, especially when it comes to sports. I don't even go to the gym." She confessed, and Harry nodded. That certainly made more sense. His heart warmed a bit at the fact that she reassured him that he wasn't the reason she wasn't liking the class all too much.

"Why don't you go to the gym?" Harry asked further, his tone soft. He didn't want to press too much, but he did want to know more about her.

"It's... embarrassing." She shrugged. Harry chuckled.

"I go to the gym all the time. I mean, I own this one. I can only imagine how embarrassing I must be." He joked. He had to say he thought it was pretty funny, the way she blushed as he teased her.

"No, I didn't mean it like that! You're not embarrassing at all— I mean, you’re like the opposite. You're lean, and strong. You have like— big arms and you know what you're doing." She ranted, and had no idea how much Harry's ego was fueled by the compliments she was unknowingly throwing at him. "Whereas I— I have no idea what to do at a gym. I hate the idea of people being able to watch me and judge me if they want. Not that I think everyone's focusing on me all the time! I— I don't think that..."

Y/N's heart was racing as she finally got herself to stop talking. It was a nervous habit she had always possessed. As soon as something got awkward, her mouth would open and it would just never shut again. All communication skills flew out the window as soon as something — or in this case someone — made her nervous. She couldn't even remember half the words she just said.

"I can teach you, if you want."

The offer was as unexpected to Y/N as it was to Harry. He hadn't quite anticipated the words rolling off his tongue, but he didn't regret them either.

"It'll be a private class, and it can be in a closed room, like this one, or after closing time. Whatever suits you." Harry tried his hardest to sound casual, and not like what he was offering was something he literally never did. He had to hire a cleaner at home because he was too busy to get around to cleaning the house, that's how much he had to do. But the prospect of losing even more free time did not seem to bother him at all. In fact, he hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer as he scanned her face and waited for her to say something.

"No, I wouldn't want to ask that of you. I'm sure you're busy with a lot of other things." She declined politely, but he didn't miss the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Those private classes had sounded intriguing to her, he just knew it. So instead of accepting her rejection, he shrugged.

"How about this. I'm always in till late on Tuesday's. If you're sure you don't want private lessons, that's fine. But if it does sound like something you want to do, just be there at 9. I'll be there either way." Harry suggested. He didn't wait for a response — hearing Sophie's footsteps nearing — and instead said,

"Just think about it, alright?"

Y/N merely nodded, not even able to croak out a 'yes' before Sophie walked back into the room.

"Okay, I'm ready to go. Y/N?" Sophie asked, watching as her friend agreed and grabbed her things before walking towards the door where Sophie stood.

"Thanks for the class." Y/N turned around and smiled at Harry, throwing him a small wave as she started following Sophie out the door.

"Anytime." He winked at her.

"Bye Styles!" Sophie shouted, her keys clinking as she waved at Harry, behind her.

"Bye Soph." Harry called out, his eyes still transfixed on the girl behind his friend.

He didn't take her eyes off her as they walked towards the exit, taking in every detail of her delicate body as she moved further and further away from him. She was painstakingly beautiful. How had she just walked in? As soon as the girls disappeared behind the door, Harry let out a big sigh.

"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.

He really hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer. Harry had very quickly and very suddenly developed this intense need to help the girl, and that couldn't mean anything good.

Maybe he'd never see her again. She did sound very unsure. Besides, who said that she even wanted to go to this class? For all Harry knew, Sophie could've just used her manipulative convincing tricks, and Y/N, the polite angel she was, would've felt too bad to decline. Maybe, she thought he was an ass and didn't want anything to do with him.

In spite of the countless theories flying through his head, he knew that she wanted it. He had seen it in her eyes. She did really want to join the class, she was simply too nervous. But whether she would take him up on the offer, that was the question. He'd have to wait until the following week.

Strangely enough, he couldn't wait until it was Tuesday. He couldn't wait to find out…

790 notes · View notes

ew-selfish-art · 1 year

Text

Dp x Dc AU: Jazz Fenton, after years of fixing her brother’s injuries, becomes a Doctor with an inclination towards behavioral health and psychology- In order to make the difference she wants to see in the world she joins Dr. Leslie Thompkin’s practice.

Jazz Fenton, M.D. has spent years of her life doing research, doing the hard work and the emotional labor, and finally, finally, she’s joining a practice she can feel 100% confident in. She’s goddamn good doctor and she wants to make the biggest impact that she can.

Dr. Thompkins (who insists that she call her Leslie as they’re colleagues now), is a kind woman, sharp as a tack and keeps her practice open at odd hours to help the most unfortunate. It took some time for them to bond and trust to be built, but now Jazz is being allotted a few night shifts here and there.

It’s incredible. Jazz gets to spend time with the kids who come in and really talk to them (in addition to getting them antibiotics, heating pads and pokemon themed bandaids) to help equip them with a few coping skills. Her passion for psychology never disappeared after all, but the expansive knowledge of how to heal the human body has made her find a sense of fulfillment like no other.

Having proven herself and worn Leslie down, Jazz now takes up about 1/3 of all the night shifts in the month. She’s hoping to get to 50/50 by the end of the year but she’s content with what she has. Danny keeps odd hours anyway so calling him after work on her walk home can happen any time of day and he will always answer enthusiastically.

It’s a particularly busy night before he comes in. The Red Hood.

He was known for being an ally to Leslie, despite being on contentious terms with the Bats, but Jazz had never asked directly. Never one to turn away a patient with bullet hole wounds, she hops into action to get his wounds cleaned, sewed up and gauze wrapped. She’s handing him a sheet (an Infographic! Dani made it with her! Graphic design is her passion!) on how to care for his wounds when he first seems to recognize that she’s not Leslie.

“No, Of course not. I’m Dr. Fenton. I can’t blame you for not remembering but I did introduce myself as you bled in the entry way. You’re Red Hood, right?”

“Hm. Didn’t realize the practice was expanding. Where can I find-” He grumbles before pushing her hand aside from where she had still been supporting his shoulder.

“Hold on there, mister. You’re going home, you’re following this infographic and you’re going to get some sleep.”

“Lady you don’t know-” His voice modulated ton came across antagonistically. As if he was trying to intimidate her. Ha, Jazz rolls her eyes at the inclination.

“Who I’m talking to? Who I’m dealing with? You’re hilarious. I can eat you vigilante’s hero complexes for breakfast. Tell me who I’m calling to pick you up and then you can say thank you.” Jazz snaps at him. It really had been a long night but his whole dialogue thus far is making her a bit batty.

“Oh really Doc? You know Leslie’s tough shit, and from what I can tell you’ve got nothing on her-”

“Trying to make me feel insufficient when I just saved your life? That’s cute. I’m sure a lifetime of abandonment by both of your parental figures gave you that. I’m also sure that you inherited this desire to prove you’re not going to be dependent on anyone who wants to help from whoever got you dressing up in tights to fight crime in the first place. Again, I’d love to talk at length about how predictable you-”

“Bwah- wait- I’m Predictable? You’re probably some nepobaby who had parents who told her she could have the world-” But Jazz cuts him off with hysterical laughter- he couldn’t be further from the truth. Her parents loved her, but nepotism? With what, the ghosts? If anything she got that from Danny, but he doesn’t need to know about her ghostly titles.

“You’re just some guy who came back from the dead and made his trauma everyone else’s issue. So shut it. And tell me how I’m getting you home from this clinic.” She seethes though her voice stays devastatingly level with each word.

Speechless for a moment, he eventually relents to Jazz that he’s already called for help on the comms but it will be hours before they can come for a pick up. The sun had already come up and the night had been over for most of them before Hood had walked into trouble. She groans and the realizes the time for herself and the empty clinic around them.

“Fine. My shift just ended anyway. I’ll get you home in one piece and I swear to all the ancients that you’d better follow the directions on the infographic.”

And that’s how Jazz ended up calling her brother while supporting the weight of a grown ass man (who no longer wanted to talk to her) on her walk home.

The next time Red Hood appears in her clinic, he’s brought a dozen roses in addition to the cut on his neck that definitely needs to be pressurized like ASAP. Did he stop for the flowers on his way to the clinic? He’s going to pass out from blood loss! She doesn’t even like roses!

#ehehehe #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #anger management #jazz fenton #jason todd #she still loves psychology but its a back pocket tool to her knowledge as an emergency medicine provider #jazz is ready to throw hands because becoming a princess during med school sucked ass #she did not have the time #but she loves and supports anything danny is doing sooo...#danny is currently attending gotham u for engineering but lives across town so they just call everyday #he sees her on her off days and always brings her tons of fast food #jason is immediately smitten with the woman put him in his place #the pit maddness was barking up a storm this entire convo but she got him home and he was like holy fuck im in love #jason todd said she saw right through me and that shit was hot #yes he totally stopped to grab (steal) flowers on his way to the clinic #dick picks him up this time. sees the flowers and is like oh cool its my turn to wingman for my lil bro #jazz is worn down by sweet gestures and the fact that hes legit so nice now when he comes into the clinic #he quotes poetry at her sometimes and she's like omg did you just make that up? she's never read poetry a day in her life #only medical textbooks and psychology papers #long post

3K notes · View notes

schtrawberry · 6 months

Text

[3] personal astrology observations

[!] this is mostly an introspective view into my chart; in no way, shape, or form am i saying that any of this is fact or set in stone, nor am i saying that i am a professional astrologer. these are just presences that exist within my chart that i've felt manifest themselves in real life. simply put, take what resonates and leave what doesn't :)

— the observation that venus in the 9th house and sagittarius mars natives are far more likely to be attracted to foreigners and/or meet their future partner/s in a foreign country is true!

[nothing, just felt like confirming, esp as someone w both these placements 🤭 like, i honestly am more likely to be approached (in a romantic setting) by a foreigner both in-person and online!]

═ sun square neptune is the aspect of daydreamers. they're always thinking about an idealized version of the future or dwelling on the past. rarely do they ever think in the present. it is often easier for them to drift off into a daze either thinking about what could have been or everything that could be.

☰ chiron in fifth house indicates pain associated with creative passions and self-expression. one may have had negative experiences that have led them to feel insecure about these aspects of life; thus leading them to distance themselves from openly expressing themselves creatively. they may take great care to keep their works of art private, tone down certain parts of their personality, and may even feel ashamed to explain themselves when others ask them about certain aspects of their creative and self-expression because of negative feedback they could have gotten in the past.

but with such pain comes empathy and understanding. once developed, these natives are the first to take notice and are the fastest to lend a sensitive ear as well as a supportive hand as soon as they see others going through the same struggle.

☱ sun-lilith in harsh aspects might have been told to cover up more by both peers and grown-ups, even when wearing "acceptable" clothing when they were kids. this placement can indicate an individual that was more sexualized from a young age, which can lead to them either being hypersexual or overly-reserved sexually in adulthood.

☲ lilith in the 7th house can indicate an individual that struggles to commit and open up about who they are to their partner/s. people with lilith in this house may have had bad experiences with marriage (perhaps witnessing bad divorces or tumultuous long-term relationships between their parents) and therefore might be turned off by the thought of marriage and/or long-term partnerships.

and though this doesn't mean that the native will be a lone soul forever, it does make one more likely to have these sort of relationships at a significantly older age in comparison to other signs.

[tw: mention of domestic violence in my personal experience, i have witnessed my parents go through an incredibly bad separation (tons of emotional abuse, infidelity, and a situation actually involving domestic violence) which has honestly made me quite hesitant to get married, even as i approach my mid-20s.]

☴ the cancer rising urge to cry when someone you care about is crying or in distress in general.

☴ a few asteroid notes:

note: asteroids are less impactful to one's personality, physicality, etc. compared to personal planets. they tend to only be relevant to one's chart if they are either in a tight orb (0-1°) or have major aspects to personal planets, preferably conjunctions or oppositions.

✢ messalina (545) known as the most promiscuous woman in rome, empress messalina is still recognized today as a symbol of uncontrolled, violent, irrational, and impulsive behavior. this asteroid reminds me very much of lilith in that it is representative of dark feminine energy and having this prominent in one's chart can be indicative of an individual that is not afraid to use their sexuality to their advantage or to create harm unto others in different aspects of their lives, but especially in terms of romantic and sexual relationships.

✢ anagolay (3757) is an potentially hazardous asteroid named after anagolay, the tagalog goddess of lost things and the daughter of the hermaphroditic goddess of seasons, lakapati. she is culturally-recognized for her ability to find not only physical objects but also abstract possessions like lost opportunities and faded memories. having this prominent in one's chart can suggest an individual that is very in-tune with cycle of nature and the subsequent passage of time. they may be more sensitive to bouts of nostalgia where they dwell on things that could have been and the way that things were. may also just indicate a person that is hypersensitive to losing physical things, though.

[`] film: go (2001) dir. isao yukisada

last / next

835 notes · View notes

lev1hei1chou · 6 months

Text

Gojo As Your Boyfriend

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 1.2K Synopsis: Oddly specific Boyfriend headcanons Masterlist

Boyfriend!Gojo who trusts your ablities and strengths but would still be incredibly protective. Your safety and well being is his priority, and he'd do anything to keep you safe.

Boyfriend!Gojo who'd end up laughing with you at the most serious moments, be it while facing curses like Jogo or while getting reprimanded by principal Yaga and Gakuganji

Boyfriend!Gojo who thrives on excitement and challenges. He'd be up for any adventure you suggest: whether it's trying out new cuisines, going on spontaneous trips, or exploring hidden gems in the city.

Boyfriend!Gojo who would be incredibly supportive of your goals and dreams, encouraging you to pursue your passions wholeheartedly. You like to cook? He's purchasing new cookbooks. You like to train? He's coming with you. You like to dance? Don't worry, he's at the front seat screaming and cheering.

Boyfriend!Gojo who has no filter. Maybe it isn't a great thing in some aspects, but it's almost always helpful to get rid of barriers in the relationship.

Boyfriend!Gojo who would enjoy surprising you with thoughtful gestures and gifts, showing his affection in unexpected ways. Spontaneous dates? A random heartfelt letter? He's already done it.

Boyfriend!Gojo who'd have a romantic side to him, despite the confident and aloof exterior. From candlelit dinners to stargazing nights to rocking the streets in matching outfits, he'd enjoy creating memories.

Boyfriend!Gojo who is unpredictable but would also provide a sense of stability and reassurance. You can find comfort in knowing that no matter what challenges come your way, you can always rely on him to be your rock.

Boyfriend!Gojo who loves engaging in playful banter with you, gracing your conversations with witty remarks and teasing comments. He adores teasing you, whether it's about your hair, your clothes, or your habits. But it's all in good fun.

Boyfriend!Gojo who'd known to surprise you with random acts of affection, like pulling you into a spontaneous hug or planting surprise kisses on your cheek or ruffling your hair.

Boyfriend!Gojo who enjoys finding common interests to bond over with you, whether it's binge-watching your favorite TV shows together or geeking out over shared hobbies.

Boyfriend!Gojo who isn't afraid to let loose and be silly with with you, indulging in goofy antics and inside jokes that only both of you understand.

Boyfriend!Gojo who finds joy in cooking together with you, even if you end up making a mess in the kitchen. It doesn't matter if you're good at cooking or bad at it.

Boyfriend!Gojo who isn't shy about using cute pet names for you, whether it's "darling," "sweetheart," or any other endearing term that makes your heart flutter. Sometimes its downright weird but there's no use in complaining.

Boyfriend!Gojo who's affectionate side shines through when you need it. He'd wrap you in a warm embrace, gently stroking your hair and whispering soothing words until you feel better.

Boyfriend!Gojo who absolutely loves stargazing with you, lying side by side under a blanket of stars as you share your stories, dreams and aspirations.

Boyfriend!Gojo who enjoys planning surprise picnics for you, whisking you away to scenic spots where you can enjoy delicious food and each other's company in the great outdoors.

Boyfriend!Gojo who is a big fan of cuddling with you, relishing in the closeness and warmth of their embrace as you unwind together after a long day.

Boyfriend!Gojo who is known to leave sweet and encouraging notes for you to find, whether it's tucked into your bag before you head off to work or hidden under your pillow as a pleasant surprise.

Boyfriend!Gojo who spontaneously turns your living room into a dance floor, pulling you into impromptu dance parties where you sway and twirl to your favorite tunes, lost in the moment together.

Boyfriend!Gojo who has a secret soft spot for romantic comedies. He may pretend to scoff at them in public, but behind closed doors, he's secretly binging on the latest rom-com releases with you, occasionally shedding a tear during the most touching scenes.

Boyfriend!Gojo who has a quirky obsession with funky socks and has an extensive collection of colorful and patterned pairs. He loves showing them off to you, eagerly awaiting your reaction to his latest sock choice each day.

Boyfriend!Gojo who has an inexplicable talent for plant whispering. You often catch him talking to your houseplants, offering words of encouragement and praise, much to your amusement. He's terrible at gardening though.

Boyfriend!Gojo who is an undisputed expert when it comes to building pillow forts. He spends hours meticulously constructing elaborate forts with you, complete with secret tunnels, cozy nooks, and twinkling fairy lights for added ambiance.

Boyfriend!Gojo who has a fascination with whales and loves taking you on spontaneous whale watching excursions whenever the opportunity arises. He's memorized facts about different whale species and eagerly points out their distinctive behaviors during your ocean adventures.

Boyfriend!Gojo who surprises you by penning heartfelt poetry dedicated to you. His poems may range from whimsical and playful to deeply profound, reflecting the depth of his emotions for his beloved.

Boyfriend!Gojo who embarks on midnight snack adventures with you, raiding the kitchen in search of tasty treats to satisfy your cravings. You indulge in elaborate snack concoctions and share laughter-filled conversations in the dim glow of the refrigerator light.

Boyfriend!Gojo who is a master of stealthy tickling and loves catching you off guard with unexpected tickle attacks. You can never guess when he's about to strike.

Boyfriend!Gojo whose skill is unmatched when it comes toplanning spontaneous dates. One day, he might whisk you away to a museum, and the next, he could surprise you with tickets to a concert you've been dying to see.

Boyfriend!Gojo prides himself on his pancake-making skills and often surprises you with elaborate pancake breakfasts on lazy weekend mornings. He might not be the best cook but pancakes are an exception. He's mastered the art of pancake art and loves creating whimsical designs like heart shapes or your initials.

You wake up to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, feeling warm and content in your bed. You patted Gojo's side of the bed just to realise that this presence is missing.

Blinking sleepily, you notice a piece of paper with cute patterns on the bedside table. Picking it up, you see Gojo's familiar handwriting, a simple yet sweet "Good morning sunshine!" greeting accompanied by an invitation to join him downstairs.

Curious, you follow the note's instructions and make your way downstairs. As you enter the kitchen, the scent of freshly cooked pancakes wafts through the air, and you can't help but smile at the sight before you.

There stands Gojo, wearing an apron that's probably more for show than functionality. He beams at you, holding a plate piled high with pancakes of various shapes and sizes.

Suppressing a laugh, you take a seat at the table as Gojo proudly explains each pancake's shape, from a lopsided heart to what is supposed to resemble your face (though it's more abstract than accurate).

Despite their unconventional appearances, the pancakes taste delicious, and you find yourself laughing and enjoying the moment with Gojo.

Between bites, he steals kisses from you, his affectionate gestures adding to the warmth of the morning. As you finish eating, you realize how lucky you are to have someone as playful and loving as Gojo in your life. With a full stomach and a heart full of love, you lean in to return his kisses.

971 notes · View notes

parvulous-writings · 5 months

Note

i was wondering if i could request some headcanons of the male romancable companions (ie: wyll, astarion, gale, halsin) w/ an affectionate/clingy reader :] thanks!!

Wyll

Wyll LOVES the affection - he's an incredibly passionate man, and adores the fact that you're as mad about him as he is about you.

He's more than happy to hold hands or link arms whenever you feel like it, offering you comfort at every turn of your adventure.

He's a little taken aback at first, when he realises how clingy you actually are, but within the same breath it's already growing on him. To know that he is wanted, loved and adored by you warms his heart, and he always makes sure to reciprocate any affection that you give him.

There are times where he tries to urge you to tone it down, few and far between, but there are times. It's usually because you're in dangerous territory and he wants to be able to leap into action at a moment's notice. He does make sure to keep you close to him when you're walking - either behind him or beside him.

Aside from that, whenever you're close to him, handholding is a must. Either that, or linked arms. He just likes knowing you're close, and knowing that it also brings you some comfort. He also LOVES to give you kisses when he can - on the cheek, the knuckle, the forehead.

At night he always pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you to nestle against you - or you, him. He doesn't mind who holds who between the sheets, so long as the two of you are together, he's happy.

"My love, your embraces are such sweet refuge from our travels... It's a damn shame I have to leave it come morning..."

Astarion

His first reaction is to tease you about how clingy you are, and he does so relentlessly. The fact that you always have that need to be near him, to hold his hand or just have a hand on him is amusing; of course he's known many people who are like that, but it never fails to make him chuckle.

He'll make little comments to you when you sneak your hand into his whilst you're on the road; "Oh? Can't bear to be away from me, I see.", and the same when you try (and ultimately fail) to sneak into his tent at night. He finds it sweet, and after a time, it deeply touches him that you still come to him, despite what he is, despite what he's done, and despite what he could do to you.

Kisses are abundant in the confines of the tent, or when the two of you are alone - he really likes kissing your collarbones, and the area where he normally bites you. He likes to lick the spot too, especially before bed.

Astarion doesn't typically go for the whole public displays of affection thing - he isn't really sure how to react to it, and dually doesn't want to reveal his more vulnerable side to the masses. He will, occasionally, pull you close to him by the waist, though, if he feels like someone is 'encroaching on what is his'.

That being said, as the relationship develops, he becomes equally as needy as you sometimes, as he gets more comfortable with his vulnerable side, and comes to understand what he wants, and what he needs to heal.

Gale

Gale has absolutely no issue with public displays of affection - but his face will likely go bright red every time. On the road he likes to walk beside you, he doesn't necessarily need to hold your hand but if you want to, he will. He does like holding your hand whilst you're eating though - don't ask him why, he'll just deflect with another question.

One way he indulges your more clingy nature is by letting you lay over his lap whilst he reads, and keeping a hand on your head or your shoulder - sometimes he'll even read aloud to you, as well, should you ask. He also likes being the big spoon whilst you both sleep!

Another bit of affection he likes to repay to you - after you smothering him in kisses all day - is to feed you. He takes quite a bit of pride in making dinner for the pair of you, and feeding it to you afterwards, just so that he can see every little reaction you have to the dish.

He won't deny that he likes having you close as well, it's almost integral to his day that he has at least some quality time with you - he's not clingy per se, but he does like some good quality time together.

Halsin

Halsin is actually flattered that you're so affectionate. He enjoys being able to hold you close, knowing that you enjoy it as much as he does. To be able to wrap his arms around you and hold you close to his chest, is a great thing for him, he enjoys it very much. He also really likes when you sneak up on him to hug him from behind - as a larger man he doesn't always get to be on the receiving end of affection.

He likes hugging you close or having you sit on his lap (or lay against him in bear form) whilst the two of you spend time out in nature. He's a big lover of time spent in each other's embrace, and he feels no shame in being what some may describe as 'overly affectionate' - though of course he is aware that there is a time and place when it comes to certain activities.

Will playfully mention about how you always yearn to be close to him, but it's never in a derogatory way; if you asked him why it wasn't derogatory, he'd simply say: "It would be wrong of me to pass judgement on you, for something I so often do myself, my love.." He's a massive softie - a big man with an even bigger heart.

He will definitely try to hug you every opportunity he has, when you're in camp together. He's also suggested a few times for him to carry you on his shoulders when you become tired from walking. "Come, my heart - it is no trouble for me.. What is troubling, however, is seeing you struggle. Put aside your pride, it is not needed here.."

732 notes · View notes

tarotwithavi · 4 months

Text

How will your future partner make you feel?

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Masterlist

Paid services : OPEN

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT 💞🍓

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*

Pile 1

They will make you feel as if all those lonely days were worth it, all the time you spent looking for love was worth it. They'll make you feel like you never have before. You'll be more confident in their presence, feeling as if you are the only woman/man in the entire universe. They'll make you feel so special that you may start wondering if your life is a dream. I see that you might get too attached to them, or they might get too attached to you, but either way, there is a sense of obsession. Being so infatuated with each other that you can't see anybody else. They'll make you realize that the time you spent alone was all for a better reason. The time you spent working on yourself was worth it. They'll make your stagnant life more enjoyable. I see that you may feel like you live a really boring life, but they'll make your life more interesting. You'll wake up every morning thinking about what will happen today, how your day will be, and what you will do together. They'll bring stability in your life and they'll make you feel heard and understood. They'll respect your boundaries and treat you the way you want to be treated. You'll feel as if you have won a lottery.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*

Pile 2

They'll make you feel understood. You might have been misunderstood your whole life, or people seem to outcast you for no reason. But with them, you'll feel at home. They'll know everything about you and understand you without you having to say anything, almost as if they can read your mind. They'll know exactly what you want or need. They'll always be there to support you and protect you no matter what happens. You'll feel like yourself in their presence, and you'll feel like you don't have to change yourself or be somebody you're not. You'll pay no attention to whatever somebody says anymore. You'll feel no pressure to hide parts of yourself. You'll have a lot of deep conversations with them, finally having somebody to talk about your interests with. You may have a lot of knowledge about stars, dinosaurs, or something unusual. And they'll listen to you. They'll also provide emotional stability by always being there for you. I see that you guys will work together on something.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*

Pile 3

Your future partner will make you feel incredibly passionate and alive, bringing a spark into your life that you might not have known was missing. They will make you feel beautiful, not just by complimenting your looks, but by making you feel valued and cherished for who you truly are. I see that they are really rich/financially stable so With them, you'll feel financially secure, as they support you in achieving your goals and creating a stable future together. They'll teach you so many new things, whether it's about the world, different cultures, or even about yourself, transforming your perspective in ways you never imagined. Most importantly, they'll change your perspective about life, helping you see things from different angles and inspiring you to grow and evolve into the best version of yourself. Their presence will transform your everyday experiences, making life richer and more meaningful. They'll make you feel more creative and passionate about your hobbies. I see that they may become your muse or vice versa.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*

864 notes · View notes

mrsfancyferrari · 4 months

Text

You Know Me Best

Summary: Charles has a bad day and you as his best friend always knows what he wants, but do you really?

Song: Friends by Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: This is similar to Just One Kiss but the ending is the different and spicy version. This is my first time writing an erotic scene so please just give constructive criticism. I just want to keep celebrating Charles' win T_T

Word count: 3.6k

Charles Leclerc experienced a challenging day on the track, and as his best friend, you noticed his need for comfort and reassurance. Charles has always been known for being incredibly intuitive, and you knew that he wanted to unwind and seek solace in his favorite activities.

Whenever Charles feels overwhelmed or stressed, he tends to crave comfort food. You know that he can always count on you to bring him his favorite treats, whether it's a bowl of warm homemade soup or a delicious sandwich.

You knew that providing him with one of his favorite foods would provide him with a sense of comfort and stability.

Throughout the day, you noticed a newfound attentiveness among the team members and fans alike. They knew that Charles was having a bad day, and they couldn't help but notice the changes in his behavior.

Whether it was his distracted demeanor or the way he constantly sought out your comfort, everyone realized that something was amiss.

However, what no one realized was that you were the one who understood Charles better than anyone else.

You knew exactly what he needed, and you were determined to bring him the comfort and reassurance he craved.

Throughout the years, you made sure that Charles had his favorite meals, whether it was sneaking him a few bites of dessert during team meetings or surprising him with a late-night snack.

You knew that these small gestures would make a difference, helping him regain his footing and regain his confidence.

"Are you sure you're not married or something?" Daniel joked to you as he watched you give Charles some snacks.

"No, just really good friends," you replied with a laugh. "But sometimes it feels like we're practically married with how well I know him."

Daniel chuckled and said, "Well, if you ever decide to tie the knot, I hope you'll remember to invite me to the wedding. I wouldn't want to miss out on witnessing such a perfect match!"

"Of course, Daniel! You'll be at the top of the guest list," you replied, grateful for the lighthearted moment amidst the tension.

What you didn't know was that Charles was listening to your conversation. As he overheard Daniel's comment about you two being a perfect match, a small smile formed on his face, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to your friendship than he had realized.

Your friendship with Charles runs deep, rooted in years of shared experiences and unwavering support. From late-night conversations to celebrating each other's successes, you have been there for each other through thick and thin.

Charles knows that your understanding of him goes beyond mere comfort food, and he cherishes the bond you share.

But as the smile lingered on his face, Charles couldn't help but wonder if there was a chance for something more than just friendship between the two of you.

The thought had crossed his mind before, but now, listening to your conversation with Daniel, it seemed like the universe was teasing him with the possibility of a deeper connection. . . .

The thought of a deeper connection with Charles had always lingered in your heart, but fear had held you back from taking any action. You were in love with him, and had been for as long as you could remember, but the risk of losing the friendship you cherished so much had always been too great.

As you watched Charles zoom around the Monaco track in his racing car, gripping onto your seat in the paddock, a surge of emotions washed over you. The adrenaline, the excitement, and the undeniable sense of pride in seeing him pursue his passion ignited a fire within you.

The roar of the engine filled the air as Charles sped past, his car a blur of color. A mix of excitement and anxiety washed over you, causing your heart to race in sync with the car.

As you held your breath, you couldn't help but notice the fierce competition from Max Verstappen and Lando Norris, who were hot on Charles' heels, ready to seize any opportunity to overtake him.

The race was far from over, and the tension only grew as the laps ticked by, making you wonder if Charles would be able to maintain his lead until the end.

The race intensified with each passing lap, as Charles skillfully navigated the twists and turns of the Monaco track. He expertly maneuvered his car, pushing it to its limits, while Max Verstappen and Lando Norris continued to apply relentless pressure. The crowd erupted with excitement, their cheers echoing through the air, as the three drivers engaged in a thrilling battle for the top spot.

Every move, every split-second decision, held the potential to determine the outcome of the race. The tension was palpable as the cars zoomed past, their engines roaring and tires screeching, creating a symphony of speed.

With each passing lap, the stakes grew higher, fueling the adrenaline coursing through your veins. As the race entered its final stages, every corner became a make-or-break moment, and you held your breath, praying for Charles to maintain his lead until the checkered flag.

As soon as he crossed the finish line, everyone jumped up from their seats, including you. The air was filled with a mix of cheers, applause, and jubilation as Charles secured the victory he had fought so hard for.

Emotions overwhelmed you, and you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride and joy for him.

You rushed to the podium, eager to congratulate Charles on his well-deserved win. Your heart swelled with pride as you embraced him, knowing that your unwavering support had played a small part in his momentous victory.

Charles stepped out of his racing car, his face beaming with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph. The crowd erupted into a thunderous applause, recognizing his incredible skill and determination in securing the hard-fought victory.

When he finally found you, Charles quickly hugged you tightly, his grip filled with gratitude and genuine appreciation.

The bond between you and Charles had grown stronger through countless races, and this victory was a testament to the unwavering support and belief you had in each other.

As his head was tucked into your neck, you gently stroked his hair in response, feeling the weight of his exhaustion and the elation of his triumph. In that moment, you knew that all the sacrifices, the late nights, and the unwavering support were worth it, as you celebrated this unforgettable victory together.

"You did it," you whispered, your voice filled with pride and admiration. "All your hard work and determination paid off. I couldn't be happier for you."

Charles smiled against your neck and whispered back, "Thank you for always believing in me. I couldn't have done it without you."

Charles then let go of you and looked into your eyes before saying, "Can you meet me in my driver's room after? I have something important to discuss with you."

"Sure," you nodded as he was taken away by a staff member. As you watched Charles disappear into the crowd, your mind raced with anticipation, wondering what he could possibly have to discuss with you.

As you watched Charles make his way to the podium, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for his remarkable achievement. The sight of him standing tall, his face glowing with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph, filled you with immense pride.

It was a moment that would forever be etched in your memory, a testament to the years of hard work and determination that had brought him to this point.

"He likes you, you know,"

Startled by Arthur Leclerc's sudden appearance, you turned to face him with a surprised expression. "What do you mean?" you asked, curious about his comment.

Arthur smirked mischievously and replied, "Oh, come on. It's obvious. Charles talks about you all the time. I think he's finally ready to take your relationship to the next level."

You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "Oh, Arthur, you've got it all wrong. Charles and I are just friends."

Arthur's eyebrows raised at your comment. "Maman says otherwise, she's always talking about you," he said with a smirk.

You felt a mix of surprise and curiosity, wondering what Charles' mother could possibly be saying about you.

"Just know that the family will welcome you in with open arms if you two get together," Arthur added, his mischievous smirk widening. As he walked away, leaving you with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between you and Charles than just friendship.

As Charles stood on the podium, he couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude and honor as the Prince of Monaco handed him the golden trophy. The gleaming trophy symbolized not only his extraordinary victory, but also the recognition and respect he had earned from the racing community and the world at large.

In that moment, as the national anthem played and Charles made a point to lock eyes with you, it felt like a silent affirmation of his feelings. The intensity of his gaze left you with no doubt that there was something more than friendship between you two, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement and anticipation for what the future might hold.

In that moment, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through your chest, matching the pride evident in his eyes. As the applause filled the air, you realized that your own feelings for Charles had grown deeper than you had allowed yourself to admit.

The future suddenly seemed full of possibilities, and you couldn't wait to explore them together. . . .

As the celebrations continued, you found yourself caught up in the whirlwind of joy and excitement surrounding Charles and Ferrari's victory. The atmosphere was electric, filled with cheers, laughter, and the clinking of champagne glasses.

In that moment, you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness for Charles and a deep sense of pride for being a part of his journey.

A staff member approached you with a message, informing you that Charles was looking for you amidst the celebrations.

As your heart raced with anticipation, you couldn't help but wonder what he wanted to say and how this momentous victory would further solidify the bond between you.

"Charles wants to see you," they said, their voice filled with urgency. Intrigued and slightly nervous, you followed the staff member through the crowd and made your way to Charles' private suite.

As you knocked on the door, your heart raced with anticipation, wondering what Charles wanted to discuss with you in this intimate setting.

As you wait for Charles to open the door, a mix of excitement and nervousness floods your senses. Your heart pounds in your chest, and your mind races with possibilities of what he might say.

In this moment, every second feels like an eternity, and you can't help but wonder how this conversation will shape the future of your relationship.

You heard the sound of footsteps growing louder and closer to the door, causing your anticipation to heighten. Each step seemed to echo in your ears, building up the tension and making you even more eager to see Charles and hear what he had to say.

As you heard the footsteps come closer to the door, your anticipation grew. The sound of Charles' voice calling your name sent a thrill through your entire body, and you couldn't wait to see the expression on his face as he opened the door.

"Yes, it's me Charles," you responded, a smile spreading across your face.

The door swung open, revealing Charles with a mixture of excitement and nervousness mirrored in his eyes.

When you met Charles' gaze, there was something in his eyes that took your breath away: a blend of lust and desire that took you by surprise.

His eyes scanned your whole body slowly, taking in every detail with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time, his gaze filled with a newfound appreciation and longing.

As his eyes scanned your whole body slowly, you felt a shiver run down your spine. It was as if he was undressing you with his gaze, his desire palpable in the air. You couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation, wondering what he had in mind for the two of you.

It was as if he was taking in every detail, every curve, every nuance, and savoring the moment.

"Charles?"

For a brief moment, Charles blinked and locked eyes with you, seemingly forgetting the intimate setting you were in. The intensity of his gaze broke the tension, and you could sense a deep connection forming between you.

It was as if the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in that moment.

"Come in," he said, widening the door for you, his voice filled with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability. As you stepped inside, the outside world seemed to disappear, leaving only the possibility of what this conversation could bring.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about, Charles?" you asked, your voice filled with curiosity and a hint of nervousness.

Charles took a deep breath and looked into your eyes, his voice steady yet filled with a hint of vulnerability. "I wanted to talk about us," he whispered, his words hanging in the air

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you, something I've been holding back for far too long.

You nodded, encouraging him to say it, your heart pounding with anticipation. The words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of his confession building.

Charles took a deep breath and looked into your eyes, his voice filled with sincerity. "I wanted to talk about us," he began, his words hanging in the air. "I've realized that I can't ignore my feelings for you any longer. I've fallen in love with you."

Your eyes widened at his statement, unable to believe what you were hearing. The room fell silent as you processed his words, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

"Oh no, I knew it wasn't going to work," Charles muttered into his hands, taking your silence as an assumption that you rejected him. But little did he know, your silence was not a sign of rejection, but rather a moment of shock and disbelief.

You were quick to realize that Charles misunderstood your silence, so you walked over to him and gently took his hands off his face, meeting his eyes with a reassuring gaze.

As his scared eyes met your excited eyes, a moment of vulnerability passed between you. You could see the fear of rejection lingering in his gaze, while your eyes reflected a mixture of surprise and joy. In that instant, you knew that this confession meant as much to him as it did to you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and affection for him.

"I love you too, Charles," you whispered as you cupped his cheeks gently. The weight of his confession lifted off both of you, replaced by an overwhelming sense of happiness and relief.

In that moment, Charles couldn't contain his joy and excitement. He quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, wrapping his hands around your waist, as if afraid that you might slip away.

The warmth of his embrace reassured you that his love was genuine, and you couldn't help but melt into his arms, feeling a sense of safety and belonging that you had longed for.

"Can I?" he muttered, pulling back from the hug enough to stare at your lips. The intense desire in his eyes matched the longing in his voice, as if he was seeking permission to seal his confession with a passionate kiss.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, closing the distance between your lips. The moment your mouths met, a surge of electricity coursed through your bodies, igniting a fire that had been simmering between you. The kiss was passionate and filled with all the pent-up emotions that had been building since the moment you met.

As your lips met, a wave of butterflies fluttered in your stomach, a tingling sensation spread through your chest, and your knees felt weak with anticipation.

The intensity of the kiss confirmed that the connection between you and Charles was not only emotional, but also physical, leaving you both breathless and craving for more. . . .

Their bodies moved as one, their hands exploring every inch of each other's skin. Their breaths intertwined in a symphony of desire as they surrendered to the heat of their passion.

Soft moans escaped their lips, mingling with whispered words of love and longing. In the midst of their ecstasy, their eyes locked, conveying a depth of connection that words could never capture.

"I've waited so long for this," Charles whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and adoration.

"Me too," you responded, your voice laced with pure bliss.

In that intimate moment, every touch felt like the caress of silk against skin. Your fingertips danced across each other's bare flesh, creating a symphony of pleasure that sent shivers down your spine.

Charles carried you onto the sofa, laying you down as he kneeled over you, his eyes filled with a hunger that matched your own.

You gasp as Charles's lips make contact with your neck, his touch sending electric currents through your body.

The sensation of his warm breath against your skin intensifies the desire pooling within you, as you arch your neck, granting him further access to explore the depths of your pleasure.

Charles' hands moved with purpose, skillfully undoing the buttons of your blouse one by one. As each article of clothing fell away, he whispered seductive words of praise and desire in your ear, igniting a deeper sense of arousal within you.

You surrendered to his words, intoxicated by the way he took control and unleashed a wave of passion that consumed you both.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice dripping with desire. "I want to explore every inch of you, to taste every part of your pleasure."

His words sent shivers down your spine, fueling your desire and leaving you yearning for more of his commanding touch.

You respond with a low, sultry moan, your body arching further into his touch, silently begging for more. The sound of your moans only adds to Charles's desire, fueling his determination to fulfill your every craving and ignite a passion that would consume you both. "I want you, Y/N," he said, his voice low and husky. "I want you so badly."

The intensity of your desire could be seen in your eyes when you looked up at him.

"I want you too, Charles," you said, biting your lower lip.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his voice filled with awe. "I can't believe you're mine."

You smiled up at him, your eyes filled with love.

"I'm all yours, Charles," you said, reaching up to pull him down on top of you.

Charles didn't waste any time. He kissed you deeply, your tongues dancing together in a passionate embrace. He ran his hands over your body, feeling every curve and contour.

"Fuck, Y/N, you feel amazing," he said, his breath hot against your ear.

You moaned, your body writhing beneath him.

"Charles, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you inside me."

Charles didn't need any more encouragement. He positioned himself at your entrance, his dick throbbing with need.

"Are you ready for me, Y/N?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

You nodded, your eyes wide with desire.

"Yes, Charles, I'm ready," you said, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Charles pushed inside you, feeling your tight warmth surround him. He groaned with pleasure, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm.

"Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good," he said, his voice filled with wonder.

You moaned, your fingers digging into his back, as Charles continued to move inside you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Charles, don't stop," you begged, your hips meeting his with every thrust.

Charles couldn't stop if he wanted to. He was lost in the pleasure of being inside you, of feeling your body respond to his touch.

"Come for me, Y/N," he said, his voice husky with desire. "I want to feel you come apart in my arms." "I'm so close, Charles," you gasped, your voice filled with desperation. "Please, don't stop."

Charles's movements became faster and more intense, his breathing ragged. "I won't stop, Y/N," he growled, his voice filled with determination. "I want you to come for me, to lose yourself in pleasure."

The room filled with the sounds of your moans and the rhythmic slapping of your bodies coming together. As the intensity built, you felt yourself teetering on the edge, ready to fall into ecstasy.

And then, with one final thrust, you shattered, your body convulsing with pleasure as waves of orgasm washed over you.

Charles kissed your forehead gently. "I promise, Y/N. I'll never let you go. You're my everything."

And in that moment, as you melted into each other's arms, you knew that this was a love that would withstand any obstacle. . . .

443 notes · View notes

fastandcarlos · 3 months

Text

Dating A⇴Z Headcanon ⇴ Charles LeClerc

A ⇴ AFFECTION

Charles is an incredibly affectionate person, particularly when the two of you are behind closed doors. He loves having you as close to him as possible, where his hands can rest on your waist or his fingertips can brush gently through your hair.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

You both knew of each other before you started dating, you’d passed each other a few times in the paddock and smiled politely at one another as you rushed around to get all of your jobs done for your teams. However as soon as you’d finished your first conversation, Charles was sure that you were someone who he wanted to get to know and spend a lot of time alongside.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

One night when things were starting to get packed up and everyone was preparing themselves to head home after the race, Charles took a hold of your hand and pulled you into a quiet corner, making sure that there was definitely no one around. He was supposed to be celebrating yet another podium but instead he found himself sat in front of you, pouring his heart out to you as he found himself unable to clear his mind of thoughts of you.

D ⇴ DATES

He treats you like the most important thing in the world when it comes to your dates, Charles pays close attention to the things that you like and organises things that he knows you’ll enjoy. Most of your dates are usually quite private as Charles hates to have your moments together ruined by fans or cameras. Your favourite date with Charles was when he took you out to dinner, with you both dressed up wanting to impress the other, enjoying endless conversation as you sat at a table which always overlooked the beautiful sunset of Monaco.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

It was well known that you weren’t the first partner that Charles had, but he was adamant that with you things felt completely different and more special than with anyone else before. At times you worried that you didn’t live up to those who came before you, however Charles was always there to reassure you and insisted time and time again that he was at his happiest whenever he was with you. He didn’t care how many times he told you, whatever relationships he had before didn’t matter to him now that he had found you.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

There are definitely moments when Charles can get quite passionate and sometimes you both tend to get a little bit heated with one another. However, Charles never lets an argument go on for longer than it needs to, mostly because he knows how little time you have to spend together, and he absolutely refuses to leave you for work knowing that the two of you aren’t talking. Even if you don’t want to talk to him, Charles will talk at you and make sure that you know how he feels and how sorry he is, especially when he reluctantly has to admit that he’s the one in the wrong.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

You were like another sibling in his family, you got on with his siblings like a house on fire and they were definitely fond of you. You’d felt welcomed by them since day one and it melted Charles heart being able to sit back and watch as you and his brothers made each other laugh and teased one another at every opportunity.

H ⇴ HOME

There was never any pressure from Charles for the two of you to move in together, but that didn’t stop him dropping hints constantly about how nice it would be. He loved having you at his place where he was able to keep an eye on you, and if he was honest, the day you agreed to move in with him was one of Charles’ favourite days ever.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

Charles was the first one to whisper those three little words as the two of you reunited at the end of a race. Monaco was special, but when Charles finally won it, he was on top of the world. As his arms wrapped around you, he whispered closely into your ear, wanting you to know how big of a part you’d also played in helping you finally win the race and achieve his dreams.

J ⇴ JEALOUS

He had his moments when Charles would find himself getting jealous, he wasn’t proud of it, but he couldn’t help being so protective of you and your relationship together. If someone started talking to you that left a sour taste in his mouth, Charles would stand a little bit closer to you and usually wrap his arm around you as if he was silently sending a message to the person to let them know that you were his and there was no point them even trying to get to know you.

K ⇴ KIDS

There was no secret from Charles that he wanted to have kids, but he also made it clear to you that he was in no rush and would happily wait. He promised to wait until you were both ready, but that didn’t stop him gushing sometimes about what an incredible mum you would be someday. Quite often you would snap Charles out of a daydream as he found himself wondering about how amazing a family of your own would be.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

The two of you were a double act together, you knew exactly how to make each other laugh which made others laugh around you too as they watched you both goof around. At times you had quite a blunt humour with one another, your dry jokes would leave you both sniggering and prodding against the other person in fits of giggles. You particularly found yourself laughing at Charles’ silly side, a part of him that he often saved for behind closed doors, not wanting to share that side of himself with the rest of the world.

M ⇴ MISSING

It was tricky for Charles to be away from you, he would always worry about you and want to know that you were safe. In the back of his mind, he’d never quite find himself able to not fret a little bit. Whenever he had a spare couple of minutes he would be trying to get in contact with you, keen to hear your voice and see for himself that things were alright. As much as he wished that you could constantly be by his side, Charles was also very supportive and aware of the fact that you had your own career and that sometimes you needed that time apart in order to both be able to achieve your dreams.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

Charles was full of nicknames for you, the sweeter the better as far as he was concerned. He loved when his nicknames were able to make your smile turn up and turn the colour in your cheeks into a slight crimson colour.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

He was obsessed with your smile as it filled Charles heart with love. He was always wanting to make sure you were happy, and knowing that he was the reason for that smile made it all the more meaningful.

P ⇴ PDA

Neither of you were huge on PDA, however everyone knew that you were a couple. Charles often held your hand or wrapped his arm around your waist to make sure that you were by his side and didn’t end up getting separated from him, and when he felt his confidence grow, he’d be there to plant a sweet kiss against your lips.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

One of the things Charles loved to do was ask you questions about your futures. He was intrigued to know how you saw the rest of your life panning out, particularly when you talked about how you envisioned life with Charles.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

No one aside from you knew this, but in his race boot Charles kept a photo of you so that you were still with him whenever he raced. He slid it in randomly once when he was still a junior and it seemed to bring him luck, and so ever since then it had just continued to be routine for him. He never changed the photo, despite the fact after so many years it was getting damaged, as he never wanted to change his superstition.

S ⇴ SEX

The most important thing to Charles when the two of you have sex is that you feel loved and that you feel adored in his company. He’s surprisingly romantic when it comes to those intimate moments between the two of you, Charles can be quite vocal, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and running his fingers through your hair. He’ll do anything just to make sure that you know exactly how much he loves you.

T ⇴ TEXTS

It’s the first thing that Charles does when he wakes up in the morning, he always sends you a message to see how you’ve slept or wish you good night, depending on where you are in the world and your difference in time zones.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

You were the centre of Charles’ world and he couldn’t be prouder to make sure that everyone else knew that too. He gushed about you constantly and gave you a lot of credit for all of the amazing things he was doing in life.

V ⇴ VACATION

During the off season Charles loved to go away with you, switching off from everything and forgetting about the chaos that usually followed your lives. Your phones would be off and your attention would solely be on each other as you explored a new place together and made plenty of new memories with one another too.

W ⇴ WHINING

Although Charles was understanding when other people were around, that didn’t stop him from whining when you weren’t paying even just a small bit of attention to him too.

X ⇴ XXXX

You always felt the amount of love that Charles had for you in his kisses. Each one was delivered to you with sentiment and meaning, he never liked to just kiss you without reason. His favourite place to kiss you was against your cheek or against the corner of your smile as when he leaned over your shoulder to place it there it meant that Charles had the perfect view of your smile when he pulled away from you again.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were everything to Charles, he simply adored you.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

One thing about Charles that never fails to surprise you is how cuddly he is at night, he refuses to let you go and makes sure to hold you as close to his chest for warmth as possible.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 reaction #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #formula 1 fic #formula one #f1 fic

426 notes · View notes

violetduchess · 1 year

Text

Hashira w/ oblivious s/o

Summary: You're pretty dumb but they love you

CW: None

Note: by demand

Giyu Tomioka (Water Hashira):

Giyu, being reserved and not adept at expressing his emotions, finds it challenging to directly confront his feelings for you.

He becomes more protective of you, keeping a watchful eye from afar and ensuring your safety during missions. He prioritizes your well-being without drawing attention to his actions.

Giyu's stoic demeanor falters in your presence, his normally calm and composed façade occasionally showing hints of nervousness or vulnerability.

He might drop subtle hints, such as offering you his coat when you're cold or taking on extra tasks to help ease your workload, hoping you'll notice and realize his affection.

Shinobu Kocho (Insect Hashira):

Shinobu, with her cheerful and playful nature, masks her true feelings behind her bubbly personality. She rarely reveals her vulnerable side.

She resorts to teasing and playful banter as a way to hide her affections, often leaving you guessing about her true intentions and making it difficult to discern her genuine feelings.

Shinobu tries to find more opportunities to spend time with you, whether it's suggesting additional training sessions or volunteering for joint missions.

She leaves small gifts or notes for you to discover, accompanied by playful hints or inside jokes, hoping that these gestures will eventually make you realize her true emotions.

Kyojuro Rengoku (Flame Hashira):

Kyojuro's naturally boisterous and enthusiastic personality becomes even more amplified in your presence as he tries to catch your attention and make you laugh.

He becomes your biggest supporter, offering words of encouragement and admiration during missions, always being there to cheer you on and celebrate your achievements.

Kyojuro may subtly drop hints during conversations, casually mentioning qualities or traits he admires, often sharing anecdotes of individuals who share similarities with you.

He tries to create more opportunities for one-on-one interactions, whether it's inviting you to join him for training or suggesting grabbing a meal together to get to know each other better.

Tengen Uzui (Sound Hashira):

Uzui's naturally flirtatious and charming nature goes into overdrive as he tries to grab your attention and make you feel special.

He showers you with compliments and playful banter, constantly finding ways to make you smile and feel appreciated.

Uzui involves himself in your life, going out of his way to join missions or events you're a part of, using those opportunities to spend more time together and demonstrate his interest.

He drops hints and makes veiled comments about his feelings during conversations, skillfully disguising his affection as casual remarks, hoping that you'll pick up on his intentions and respond in kind.

Gyomei Himejima (Stone Hashira):

Gyomei, known for his strong and stoic demeanor, finds it difficult to express his feelings directly. His actions speak louder than words.

He becomes incredibly protective of you, ensuring your safety at all costs and standing as a formidable shield against any threat.

Gyomei goes out of his way to assist you with tasks or offer support, silently shouldering burdens to ease your worries.

He often shows acts of kindness and thoughtfulness, such as offering you his hand when you stumble or lending a listening ear when you need someone to talk to.

Mitsuri Kanroji (Love Hashira):

Mitsuri's affectionate and passionate nature becomes even more apparent when she's around you. Her heart practically glows with adoration.

She finds herself constantly seeking your attention, engaging in conversations that highlight your qualities and making you feel valued.

Mitsuri goes above and beyond to help you, whether it's assisting with training or surprising you with thoughtful gestures and gifts.

She may become more physically affectionate, offering warm hugs and gentle touches, hoping that her actions will convey her deep affection.

Obanai Iguro (Serpent Hashira):

Obanai, known for his reserved and enigmatic nature, struggles to openly express his emotions. His affection is often hidden beneath a stoic façade.

He becomes more attentive to your needs, carefully observing and anticipating your desires to ensure your comfort and well-being.

Obanai may quietly lend a hand when you least expect it, subtly supporting you without drawing attention to himself.

He finds solace in silently observing you, admiring your every move and cherishing the moments he gets to spend in your presence.

Muichiro Tokito (Mist Hashira):

Muichiro's quiet and introverted nature makes it challenging for him to express his feelings directly. He tends to communicate through subtle actions and gestures.

He often finds himself stealing glances at you, his adoration evident in his gaze, but he struggles to find the right words to express his emotions.

Muichiro becomes more attentive to your presence, seeking opportunities to be near you without drawing too much attention to himself.

When you're around, he may appear slightly more talkative and engaged, making an effort to interact with you and share small snippets of his thoughts.

Muichiro may find comfort in simple acts of kindness, quietly leaving small gifts or tokens of appreciation for you to discover.

He treasures the moments when you two can spend time together, even if it's just sharing a quiet silence or engaging in a shared interest.

Muichiro's subtle displays of affection reflect his deep adoration for you, as he navigates the complex terrain of his emotions with a quiet determination.

Sanemi Shinazugawa (Wind Hashira):

Sanemi's rough and brash exterior hides a softer side that he struggles to express. He often masks his feelings with gruffness and sarcasm.

He may find himself constantly stealing glances at you, his gaze filled with a mix of longing and frustration at your obliviousness.

Sanemi may try to protect you in subtle ways, such as offering to accompany you on missions or keeping an eye out for your safety from a distance.

He may exhibit moments of unexpected kindness, like sparing a genuine smile or offering a small gesture of help when you least expect it.

Sanemi's affections may manifest through teasing and playful banter, using humor as a defense mechanism to cope with his own emotions.

He may struggle to articulate his feelings directly, often resorting to indirect comments or snarky remarks to hide his true emotions.

Sanemi's gruff exterior may soften when you're around, with small glimpses of vulnerability slipping through as he tries to navigate his feelings for you.

#xreader #giyuu x reader #muichiro x reader #sanemi x reader #rengoku x reader #mitsuri x reader #obanai x reader #gyomei x reader #uzui x reader #shinobu x reader

2K notes · View notes

joelscruff · 1 year

Text

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

previous chapters | yall are absolutely fucking incredible. truly. i never could have ever expected the response to the last chapter and i'm so so SO grateful to everyone who's been contributing their thoughts and theories over the past week. your engagement and passion for this story means the world to me. so many people wanted so many different things for this chapter and i know i can't please everybody, but i hope this satisfies most of you. thank you so much for being here and for loving this story. here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: you don't know what to think after catching joel at the bar. tasha wants to help in the best she knows how - getting fucked up. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexual assault (nothing to do w joel), alcohol, almost penetration word count: 13.6k ao3

You've never felt like this before.

Tasha practically has to drag you into a cab, gripping tight to your hand with an arm around your back as she gives the driver the address of where you're both staying. He barely bats an eye to the fact that you're practically inconsolable, tears streaming steadily down your face as you gasp and sob and stare at the floor with wide eyes. He's probably picked up countless passengers in similar situations and it's not like you can bring yourself to feel any sort of embarrassment over it.

"Shh," she soothes you, still rubbing your back and peering down at you with empathy in her eyes, an expression that somehow makes you feel even worse - she'd told you this might happen. She'd known all along, but you hadn't wanted to believe anything she said about the lack of definition in your relationship with Joel. You'd chosen to believe differently, believe that he was different than the guys your friends have encountered.

How could you have been so stupid?

It's your own fault you're even in this position now, crying in the back of a cab while Joel makes out with some woman in a bar you don't belong in. Your own fault for putting any ounce of faith in someone else for once, for choosing to be blind to the obvious - of course he doesn't want you. Of course you're not his priority. You're not his girlfriend. You're his fuck buddy. You're a warm body and nothing more.

You don't speak for the entire drive, just cry and try desperately to control your breathing. By the time you reach the Airbnb your throat hurts from the sobs, although throwing up on the sidewalk could also have something to do with it. You're just a mess, lightheaded and distant as Tasha guides you into the house and helps you settle on the couch.

"Stay here," she says softly, grabbing a throw blanket and carefully covering your loose and exhausted form, "I'm gonna go get some necessities, okay? This place doesn't have shit."

You nod slowly, just to let her know you acknowledge her words, though you're unsure exactly what necessities she's talking about. She reaches her hand down and strokes your cheek, still looking at you with that sad expression.

"I'm so sorry, honey," she repeats to you for probably the fortieth time in the past hour.

You close your eyes; you can't stand to see the pity on her face.

Tasha returns shortly after with her "necessities", which mainly consist of junk food and alcohol. You haven't moved an inch from where she'd left you, still laying on the couch with bloodshot eyes and a quivering mouth. You listen as she busies herself in the kitchen, putting together some sort of snack platter for the both of you that you already know you won't eat. You're not hungry. You've never been less hungry in your life.

"You were right," you finally manage to croak out as she seats herself beside you on the couch, placing the food on the coffee table and turning to you with that familiar look of pity, "He's just like the rest of them."

She shakes her head, "No, that's not true, I never said that," she rips open a bag of chips and starts munching, seemingly lost in thought.

"Oh, we're gaslighting now, are we?"

She raises an eyebrow, "Girlie, tell me when I said what you just said."

"Boys are mean," you quote hastily, turning a bit on the couch to stare up at the ceiling.

"Yes, it's true. Boys are mean. And so are men," she sighs then, dropping the chips back on the table, "Look, I'm not defending him, I promise, but-"

"Tasha," you state coldly, still staring at the ceiling, "Do not continue that sentence."

"You don't even know what I'm gonna say."

"Yes, I do," you shut your eyes and bring your hands to cover your face, feeling the tears starting up again, "You're gonna tell me we never defined what we had, that he was never my boyfriend, that this can't constitute as cheating because there was no relationship to begin with."

She's quiet but you can still feel her looking at you with that sadness, that sympathy, the look of someone who's been here before and knows how it feels. And it makes you so angry. Because-

"Joel wasn't supposed to do this," you continue, softer now, voice shaky as the tears flow down your temples and into your hair, "He's not a boy, he's not like the guys you date. He- he was different, I-" you choke, throat tightening at the thought of him, the image of him with her at the front of your mind again, "I thought he- I thought that we-"

You can't continue, words turning into cries and sniffles turning into sobs. You feel Tasha's hand on your calf, stroking your skin gently despite the fact that you just criticized both her own judgement and her taste in men in the same breath.

"I'm not trying to hurt your feelings," she says soothingly, "That's the last thing I wanna do. If anything I'm trying to tell you that this doesn't necessarily make him an asshole."

You scoff at that, "Right. Makes sense," you finally pull your hands down to look at her through your tears, brow furrowing, "Tasha he was kissing her. That- that woman, he was- he touched her face."

"I know he did," she murmurs with a frown, eyes casting downward, "And I know it hurts, but-"

"But nothing," you find yourself tossing the blanket to the floor and standing up shakily, not bothering to even look at Tasha as you stomp toward the bedroom. "I don't need this right now," is the last thing you say before slamming the door behind you.

She doesn't follow you. This is the first time you've ever yelled at her, the first time you've ever felt truly mad at her, and even though you know deep down that this isn't her fault... you still feel betrayed. Betrayed by Tasha's nonchalance, betrayed by Joel's actions, but worst of all - betrayed by yourself.

Because how did you manage to get into this mess in the first place?

You practically rip the too-tight and too-short pink dress off your body and stagger to the bed, not even bothering to pull back the covers. You still feel sick, lightheaded and woozy as you press your face to the cool pillow and try to collect yourself. You can't get the image of the woman out of your head; you hadn't even seen her face and yet it's like she's somehow consuming every fiber of your being. All you can see behind your closed lids are those long, perfectly styled braids hitting her bare waist, skin a deep and rich brown that almost sparkled under the bar lights, the way her bare ankle traveled up and down his leg, the soft curve of her cheek as he'd cupped it in his hand-

A sob wracks through you and you pull the other pillow toward yourself, wrapping your legs and arms around it like a koala, remembering how less than twenty four hours ago you'd been in a bed just like this one - except it hadn't been a pillow you were cuddling. And now, what? Who's in that bed now? Another woman? That gorgeous woman who you don't stand a chance against?

You're sure Tasha can hear you crying but she doesn't come, staying in the living room and giving you the space you need. You already feel awful for snapping at her like that - you know she means well, that she's just trying to alleviate the situation in her own way, but you barely even know how you feel about it.

And how do you feel? Hurt? Sad? Angry? Of course you feel all of those things, to a degree you've never felt them before, but underlying all of those emotions is something else entirely, something you can't quite put your finger on - or would rather not put your finger on, because doing so would mean finally admitting something you're not sure you're ready to admit yet.

You try to think about your relationship with Joel up to this point, try and pinpoint the exact moment it went from being something frivolous to being something real, but you find that it's impossible to do so. For you, you could say the moment you walked past his threshold was when it became official. Or when he touched you for the first time. Or when he kissed you. When he made you come. When he called you his babygirl. When you touched his cock. When he put his mouth on your pussy. When you woke up this morning completely naked in his bed.

Any of those moments could have been the moment. But a gnawing voice in the back of your mind reminds you that any of those moments could have equally not been the moment as well. Maybe there was no moment. Maybe this really has just been a whole lot of nothing.

But then you think about the way he looks at you. The way he treats you.

The way he'd comforted and reassured you last night, held you, made you feel safe and secure - "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."

The way he'd shared his insecurities with you over the phone, been vulnerable, honest and open - "I don't want you to look at me differently".

The way he'd dressed up just in case your mother took you to your lesson, looking like he was ready to attend a church service, purposely putting himself in uncomfortable clothing to make sure things went smoothly - "I wanted to make a good impression."

The way he'd told you about his past on his back deck, related his own childhood to yours, tried to calm your own fears and tell you things would be okay - "You gotta focus on what's right for you, on livin' the life you want, not worryin' about what they'll think".

What did any of it mean? What does any of it mean? Has it just been sex this whole time or does he actually care about you? And if he does, why would he kiss someone else?

And what if he's been kissing someone else... fucking someone else... this entire time? What if it's not just you he's been seeing? The thought makes you want to throw up all over again.

You hear a peal of laughter from the other room, a sound that feels odd in the silence and sadness of the bedroom where you lie. Tasha must have put on a movie or something. You feel bitterness rise in your throat, a sudden urge to run out to the living room and grab the remote and toss it out the window, scream at her for finding something to laugh at when you're literally falling apart at the seams.

But the bitterness fades when you hear her laugh again; you love that laugh, have missed it ever since you came home. Tasha has always had such a free and fun way about her, a natural joy that you've always envied. You'd watched her go out night after night over the past three years, come home with the most bizarre stories that you were never able to fully relate to, and yet she always tried to include you in some way, ask you questions, make you laugh.

You remember the looks of shock you'd received from the other girls when you'd first shared that you were a virgin, that you'd never done anything except kiss. She'd sensed your discomfort immediately, seen your embarrassment, and had quickly flipped the conversation to something else more shocking, more embarrassing - at her own expense. Easier than flipping a light switch. And any time it was mentioned after that, she'd always emphasize how lucky you were, how she wished she'd taken her time, how all you were missing out on was bonehead losers who didn't know how to please a woman.

She's always reassured you, always listened, and has always been your number one fan, even when you had nothing to give. You'd told her all about your upbringing, about the way you'd begun to question everything, and she'd given you her own two cents and made you feel better for the first time in a long time. And when you'd told her you were coming home for the summer she'd said, "Are you sure that's gonna be okay for you?"

You trust her. So why are you in this room avoiding her? Why aren't you listening to what she has to say?

With heavy limbs you manage to climb off the bed and tug on your pajamas, wiping your eyes and letting the sadness and humility settle for just a moment. Yes, this is a fucked up situation. But Tasha wants to help you. Let her.

A few moments later you find yourself back on the couch, this time with Tasha's arm around you as she pours you a glass of wine and shakes away your apology. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she tells you softly, "You're upset, I get it."

You sigh deeply and take a sip, wincing at the bitterness but making no move to put it back on the table. "So," you murmur hoarsely, "Why is he not necessarily an asshole?"

You stay up late talking for hours about the situation and listening to Tasha's theories, most of which center around a lack of communication - based on her own personal experiences. She also has to factor in the fact that Joel is a lot older, a detail she's still beyond surprised over.

"I just can't believe he's fifty six," she faux whispers the number with wide eyes, shaking her head. "Like... this man knows things. How to take care of you, ya know? You're luckier than you realize."

"Lucky," you scoff, "Yeah, that's one way to describe how it feels."

She slaps your hand playfully, "I'm serious. This is yet another reason I think you just got your signals crossed here. I refuse to believe he's trying to hurt you, especially after how considerate he's been with you up until this point. If this was just about sex he would have dropped you ages ago, honey. I mean, no offense but you're not exactly making it easy for him, are you?"

She's certainly blunt. But she's also right. Joel has been nothing but patient with you this entire time, never expecting anything more than what you've been willing to give. If it was just about sex, this thing between the two of you wouldn't have gone beyond that first day in his house when you'd told him you were a virgin.

You slowly begin to come to the conclusion that you should give him the benefit of the doubt. As much as what you saw hurts, as much as it makes you want to crawl in bed and never get up, you were never Joel's girlfriend. There was never an establishing conversation, never a moment where you laid your heart on the line and told him exactly what you wanted, mainly because you haven't been sure what you wanted up until this point. But now you do.

"Communication," Tasha repeats for maybe the fifth time, "Communication is key. He doesn't know what you want, so you need to tell him. You need to stand up for yourself. And if he doesn't take you seriously, you move on. Simple."

"Simple," you echo, your third glass of wine already getting to you as you peer at her hazily with an upturned brow, "Communication."

"Communication," she repeats, "Simple."

Communication. Simple.

It's what echoes in your head over and over after your head hits the pillow that night, and continues to repeat the following morning as Tasha rouses you from sleep to get you ready for your "lesson". You don't feel as hungover as you'd expected - "That's because we didn't get totally fucked up like we were supposed to," Tasha says to you with a roll of her eyes - but your face is puffy from all the crying.

You're splashing your face with cold water when you hear Tasha call out, "Hey, I think you have a text."

Heart pounding in your chest you run back to the bedroom and grab your phone from the nightstand, the first time you've checked it since you got back from the bar. Your eyes go wide when you see not just one but two texts from Joel. One from last night, around midnight:

Hope you're having a good night, babygirl. You deserve to have some fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe.❤️

And one from this morning, around seven:

You get home ok? Let me know x

"Don't text him back," Tasha advises over your shoulder, "Keep him sweating a bit, you're leaving soon anyway."

You nod slowly, still staring at the messages, especially the one from last night. When had he sent that? Had he still been at the bar? Still with her? Did he take her home? That familiar sadness and betrayal from last night bubbles in your throat again, tears pricking in your eyes.

No. You will not cry anymore.

You let your phone fall onto the bed and turn on the spot, marching back to the bathroom like a woman on a mission.

"Tasha, make me fucking hot."

The Plan: Go to your lesson with Joel. Talk to him about what you saw. Tell him how you feel. And look good doing it.

Communication. Simple. It certainly seems easier said than done; you've never been very good at communication. Your whole life has been spent suppressing your true feelings and your true self for crying out loud - the concept of being completely vulnerable and honest with someone is terrifying. But you know that it's necessary for your heart, and you also know that if you're going to be able to be vulnerable with anyone, it's Joel. He's already seen glimpses of the broken parts of you, not to mention seen you completely naked. How much harder can it get?

And nothing can be worse than how you felt last night.

Tasha essentially makes you her very own doll for the majority of the morning - doing your makeup, styling your hair, choosing your outfit - and you're surprised to find that you don't hate any of it, have no notes or critiques or changes to make. You stand in the bathroom staring at yourself in the mirror with your eyebrows raised, lips parted in admiration at a job well done.

"I look good," you say with a smile, and Tasha grins at your reflection, "I mean it, Tasha. Like, I still look like me, but..."

"All I did was accentuate what you already have, my love," she replies, reaching forward to fix a piece of hair that's not sitting quite right, "You're just a gorgeous human, inside and out."

You can't help but feel touched at her words, lips turning down into a pout as your hands come up to touch your heart, "Tasha-"

She waves you away, shaking her head, "Bitch, do not get sappy on me right now. Save those doe eyes for Mr. Miller."

Twenty minutes later you're winding through the suburban streets of your neighborhood. You're about half an hour early; Tasha had wanted you to be fashionably late but there's only so much of yourself you can alter in such a short amount of time, your punctuality being one of them. You figure you'll just drive around for a bit to build up your courage, plan out your words.

Joel, I saw you at the bar last night. I saw the woman. And I'm not mad, I'm just....

Joel, my feelings were really hurt last night...

Joel, I can't believe you would kiss another woman after everything we've been doing. Do I not mean anything to you at all? Do I-

Nothing really seems like the right thing to say. You figure once you're standing in front of him the words will just come naturally, flow easily in a way that makes sense and articulates your feelings properly. You can only hope.

You've still got about fifteen minutes before your lesson but you figure there's no point in continuing to circle the area - you're just delaying the inevitable. With a heavy sigh and a few quiet words of encouragement directed at your rearview mirror, you turn onto Joel's street, gripping the wheel tightly and trying to keep your breathing as even as possible. You can do this. You can do this.

You're a few houses down from his when you see it.

Panic turns to shock. Shock turns to confusion. Confusion turns to anger. Anger turns to sadness.

You're already pressing Tasha's number in your contacts before you can fully collect your thoughts.

"What is it? Did you go in?"

"There's a car in his driveway," you hiss through your teeth, feeling the tears spring to your eyes again, your hand coming up to cover your mouth, "She stayed the fucking night, Tasha. He fucking slept with her."

"You don't know that," Tasha replies quickly, calmly, already trying to calm you down, "Maybe it's his, maybe he has another car."

"He doesn't have another car, Tasha," your voice is stoic despite the lump in your throat, "He has his truck and that's it. Joel Miller doesn't drive a purple fucking convertible."

"A purple convertible?" Tasha repeats, voice faltering now, processing the information, "Jesus Christ."

You stare at the driveway, at the car in question - you're still a few houses down so it's hard to see any specific details, but you're sure you can make out a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror inside. This is definitely not Joel's vehicle by any means. Your stomach is in knots, unsure what the fuck you're supposed to do now; you'd thought briefly of the possibility that he'd slept with her, and up until this moment you'd been prepared to hear him admit it to you. But you hadn't expected it to really be true, to almost come face to face with the woman herself.

"I don't understand," Tasha suddenly says on the other line, "He knows you're coming for your lesson, why the fuck would he still have her in the house?"

"I don't know," your voice is almost a whisper, thick with sadness and disbelief, "I- oh shit." You cut yourself off and sink deep into your front seat when you catch the front door of his house opening, eyes going wide as you watch two figures emerge out onto the front step.

"What's happening?" Tasha asks frantically - you can practically hear her pacing on the other end, "Talk to me!"

"They're coming out!" you hiss, "They're on the fucking front step."

"Oh, honey, you gotta leave. You're not gonna wanna see this, you need to just turn around and come back," her voice is full of disappointment, anger that mirrors your own, "I'm serious, this is just-"

"Shhh," you peer over the dashboard at them, squinting against the sun. You can make out Joel's broad back in the early morning light, can recognize one of his band t-shirts and his signature bedhead, pointing in all directions. You can see him, but it's difficult to make out the figure he's with, his body blocking her almost entirely from you. "I think she's leaving."

You watch with a mix of rage and horror as he suddenly leans down and wraps his arms around her, her own winding around his broad form as her hands interlock together behind his back. Your eyebrows raise in confusion, mouth dropping open.

"It's not the same woman," you whisper.

"What do you mean it's not the same woman?"

"Literally that," you breathe, shaking your head and feeling a few tears begin to make their way down your cheeks, "It's not the one from last night, it's someone else."

"How do you know?"

"Because the woman last night was black and this girl isn't, I can see her arms," you snap, a sob threatening to burst its way past your lips, "And this one's shorter, he has to bend down to hug her."

"To hug her?!" Tasha echoes, "What the fuck?"

You watch as they separate from one another, watch with rage burning in your chest as she walks down the steps toward her car. You can see her better now, get a good look at her in the few seconds it takes her to reach the driver's side door. She's wearing a pink dress, frilled at the bottom with a pair of white sandals - she looks young. You're already redacting your prior statement about her not being black - now that she's properly in view, you can see the brown softness of her skin, her afro textured hair plaited neatly into two rows. But it's not the same woman.

"So, what, he had two girls in one night? Is that what you're telling me?" Tasha is saying in your ear while you continue to stare at the woman, watch her open the car door and climb inside with one last wave to Joel, "Hello?"

"I - I don't know. I'm-" you watch Joel wave to her and then head back inside the house, presumably to wait for you to arrive. Your stomach is tight and painful, bile in your throat all over again. "You were right," you whisper, tears cascading down onto your bare legs, "I didn't need to see this."

So much for not crying anymore.

You're back on the couch again, wrapped up like a burrito staring at the wall while Tasha paces back and forth around the living room in front of you, talking a mile a minute.

"It was a whole different story when it was just the one girl," she's ranting, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed in anger, "But two? Two girls. In one fucking night. And one of them is half his age," she scoffs, almost a growl, "So what, he just does this in his spare time? Fucks around with girls' hearts and bodies and then acts like some tough, macho contractor with a busy schedule? Please."

You don't need to remind her that you're also half his age - you know she'd come up with a reason why you're different, why you're the exception. And you do appreciate that, but the more she talks the more you're starting to realize that maybe that's never been the case. Maybe you weren't some beautiful coincidence that wandered into Joel's life - maybe he's been doing this for a long time.

Your gaze follows her as she walks around, pacing the same circle over and over again around the coffee table; it's typical Tasha - you've seen her do this on numerous occasions before, but never on your behalf. Your phone suddenly vibrates on the table and your heads both snap toward it, plunging the room into silence. You already know it's him - who else would be texting you this early? You reach over and unlock it, eyes scanning the message:

Where are you?

"He's wondering why I haven't shown up," you say quietly, voice still hoarse from all the crying.

"What a fucking prick. Do not reply," she resumes her pacing, "Two girls the night before he's supposed to have a date with you. Who does that? Who actually does that? Men, that's who. Men do that. I'm swearing off them forever after this. Seriously, I mean it. What the fuck."

You appreciate her concern, appreciate that she's no longer arguing on Joel's behalf, but her words cut you deep regardless. The whole situation still feels surreal. How is it that just over twenty four hours ago he was kissing you softly, sweetly, peering at you with those beautiful brown eyes and telling you he had something special planned for your lesson? What had he wanted to try, a fucking threesome?

"I don't know him at all," you whisper softly, sadly, "I never did. He's a stranger. A complete stranger who I was stupid enough to trust."

Your words seem to touch something in Tasha. She stops her pacing, slowly turns toward you with that empathetic look again and then carefully steps toward the couch, sitting down on the end.

"He just... he was there," you continue, lip trembling, "My parents were being so controlling and I was literally thinking about just... just leaving, finding some way to get back to campus without them knowing and then I heard that fucking guitar and-" you hiccup through a sob, clutching your hand to your chest, "I should've known then. I should've just kept walking. He asked me to come in, Tasha. He wanted to fuck me, then and there. And when I said no I guess I... I became some sort of challenge. Just a stupid, naïve little Catholic girl he could fuck and dump. And I fell for it, hook line and sinker."

She places a hand on your calf, just like she had last night, stroking gently up and down, "You're not stupid," she murmurs, "You're just a girl. A girl experiencing something really special for the first time. And I'm sorry he took that experience from you."

You manage to smile at her, soft and sincere. Despite everything, it feels good to have a friend, to not be alone when you're feeling like this. To be validated and comforted. You have no idea how you'd be processing all of this without Tasha by your side, if you'd have even been able to leave your bed this morning.

"This is so not what I wanted this weekend to be," she suddenly sighs, putting her head in her hands, "I wanted you to have fun, be free. And here you are feeling like shit about yourself. It's not fair."

She's right. It's not fair.

You take a deep breath, then carefully pry yourself out from underneath your blanket, rolling off the couch and coming to stand in front of Tasha with a determined expression on your face.

"You didn't dress me to the nines just for me to cry and feel sorry for myself on the couch," you say confidently, doing your best to wipe away your tears without completely smearing away Tasha's hard work, "I don't wanna think about Joel anymore. I don't wanna cry about Joel anymore. You know what I wanna do?"

She looks up at you, a grin slowly spreading across her face, "Go have fun and be free?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely."

You never thought you'd be the kind of person to go day drinking, but here you are. Tasha had fixed your makeup and then gotten all dolled up herself, ready for a whole day of doing exactly what you'd both set out to do this weekend: have fun.

Your first stop is a little bistro within walking distance of the Airbnb; you already know that neither of you will be fit to drive by the time this is all over, so you stick to places that are relatively close to the house. As you sip your cocktails and dig into a plate of sandwiches, Tasha informs you that she'd purposely booked this house in particular because of its proximity to the local club scene - you're not surprised in the slightest.

Your phone vibrates a few times while you're eating but you don't check it, forcing yourself to avoid reading anything else Joel has to say to you. It's only when it actually rings, two cocktails deep and plate empty, that you briefly consider picking it up.

"Nope," Tasha says, grabbing the phone from you and canceling the call before you can answer, "No more Joel today, we agreed."

"No more Joel," you repeat, nodding. You let her slip your phone into her own purse after putting it on silent - you know she'll keep it safe, and you know it's for the best.

You spend the majority of the afternoon popping in and out of local bars and boutiques, shopping and chatting to your hearts content as your body adjusts to the constant thrum of alcohol running through your system, making your head a bit foggy in the best way. It's like nothing really matters except this moment, right now, the beat of live music here and there as the sun gets lower in the sky, the conversations drifting past, the smell of food wafting out of restaurants. Tasha is a constant presence at your side, arm linked with yours as she dishes on all the drama of her life you've missed thus far this summer.

You don't think about Joel.

It's obvious throughout your little adventures throughout the day that people - particularly men - gravitate to Tasha very easily. You're not sure if it's simply because of how gorgeous she is - all curves and plump lips and dark curls down to her waist, purple cowboy hat askew above her perfectly applied makeup - or because she's simply a light. She's so bubbly and completely herself, smiling and laughing and dancing, never apologetic or ashamed. It feels good to have a girl like that in your corner, helping you out of your shell, only wanting what's best for you.

You realize as the day passes that you're beginning to mimic her behavior a bit. Whether it's due to the alcohol or your admiration for her, you're not sure, but either way you can feel yourself loosening up, allowing yourself to be more uninhibited, less insecure, not caring if people are looking at you. And people are definitely starting to look at you.

"Dude over there is staring at you," Tasha says quietly to you as you sip margaritas on the back deck of a country bar. You're now wearing her cowboy hat, stolen it after what can only be described as a predictable turn of events where she'd rode the mechanical bull and lost it in one particularly hard buck. You'd picked it up off the floor and placed it on your head, laughing hysterically as the bull threatened to launch Tasha across the room.

"Where?" your eyes go wide as you take a long sip, waiting for her to point him out. She nods at something behind you and you do your best to slowly turn around, not wanting to be too obvious. In your drunken state, however, it's not very smooth. You almost topple off the chair as you spin in place to find who she's talking about.

Through your laughter you spot him. Typical young Texan - floppy blonde hair and a strong jawline, sun-kissed skin and a white smile that practically glimmers against the sunset. He nods to you when he sees you looking, tilts his head to the side a bit and winks.

You turn back to Tasha, shaking your head, "He is not looking at me," you feel your skin heating up, not just from the alcohol, "There's no way."

"He is looking at you," Tasha reiterates, placing her empty glass down on the table, "You're fucking hot."

Your mind can't help but flash back to freshman year, that godforsaken party when another boy with a similar appearance had looked your way. The hope you'd felt, the desire, the confidence... all of it fading when he approached and chose your friend to talk to instead, not even bothering to glance your way despite standing right there beside her. You can't help but worry that it's happening all over again.

But then you hear a deep voice behind you, southern and sexy: "Pardon me, but I just had to tell you, I think you're the prettiest girl I ever saw."

Your eyes widen and you spin back around, still half expecting him to be talking to Tasha, not you, but his green eyes connect with yours instead. His gaze holds you there, your lips parting with no words coming out as you stare up at him in shock.

"She was just telling me that you're not so bad yourself," Tasha offers with a smile, nudging you under the table with her heel, "Right?"

"R-right," you manage to stammer out, still staring open-mouthed at this gorgeous specimen that has somehow decided that you're the girl he wants to talk to right now. The prettiest girl he ever saw.

He smiles at that, toothy and beautiful, "I'm Noah," he puts his hand out for you to take and you do, grasping it tightly and trying to hold on to the reality of this moment, the way his soft skin feels against yours, the way your brain is buzzing with amazement - and tequila.

Tasha's foot hits your ankle again and you quickly splutter out your name, releasing his hand and awkwardly placing yours back in your lap. You feel the bare skin of your thigh and you're suddenly hyperaware of how exposed you are right now - this dress certainly doesn't leave much up to the imagination. Your thighs and breasts are practically spilling out of it, pink material clinging to your body. But he isn't looking at any of that - he's looking at your face.

"It's real nice to meet you," he says with another smile, "Can I buy you a drink?" he suddenly looks at Tasha, like he's only just remembered she's sitting there, "And one for your friend too, of course."

"She'd love one," Tasha answers for you, nudging her arm against yours gently, "We'll both have another margarita."

Noah nods once, sets his gaze to your face again with a smile, then disappears inside the bar to go order the drinks.

The second he's gone it's like you're released from some sort of spell he'd put you under. Your heart is suddenly pounding in your chest, breaths coming shorter as you turn to Tasha with utter horror.

"What happened to swearing off all men?" you hiss, brow furrowing.

"Please, Noah isn't a man, he's a boy," she scoffs with a smile, twirling her hair between her fingers, "And I know alllll about boys."

You don't know how it happens, somehow lost the plot about halfway into your second margarita, but Noah is going to the club with you.

You are drunk. You know this for a fact. You hadn't been expecting to already feel this fucked up upon setting foot in the club but here you are, Tasha on one arm and Noah on the other. Tasha's had just as much to drink as you but doesn't seem anywhere near as intoxicated as you feel, continuing to be her excitable self when the bass drops and the neon lights start to dance across her skin. She's stolen back her cowboy hat but you've somehow gained your own - you think it might be Noah's.

"LET'S DANCE!" she screeches, pulling you away from Noah and dragging you onto the dance floor. You watch with slightly blurred vision as he goes in the opposite direction, toward the bar, probably to order more drinks.

The music is loud, the dance floor full of people, bodies swaying back and forth, people jumping up and down, grinding on one another, screaming conversations over the heavy bass. The lights are bright and it feels like all of your senses have been heightened, like you can feel, taste, see, and hear everything in your immediate vicinity to the utmost degree. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but you can feel it in other places too - your feet, your kneecaps, your skin.

"I FUCKING LOVE THIS SONG!" Tasha screams to you, throwing her hands up in the air and spinning on the spot, smile wide and joyous as she starts to dance, "DANCE WITH ME, COME ON!"

Your senses are overloading but you try your best to match her energy, copy her movements, focus on just this instead of everything else that's going on around you. This is what you've been missing all these years; this is what you've been waiting to experience. Enjoy it. You let your inhibitions flow and just exist in this moment, having fun with your best friend, far away from anyone who would ever judge you for being here. Far away from your parents and your neighbors and Bethany and -

No. You do not think about Joel.

You and Tasha dance to about three songs before she's tugging you away from the dance floor and over to the bar, back to where Noah is leaning with a beer bottle perched against his lips. He smiles when he sees you approaching, gestures to the little mini drinks beside him, small enough to only have about a thumb of liquid in each.

"Shots!" Tasha squeals, clapping her hands together, "Shots, shots, shots!" She picks one up and hands it to you, then grabs her own, "Come on, Noah, do one with us!"

Noah still can't seem to keep his eyes off you, though you've begun to notice that he's no longer just looking at your face anymore. This time his eyes fall to your breasts as he puts down his beer bottle and replaces it with one of the shot glasses, gaze falling down to your legs before finding your eyes again.

You catch a glint of something darker there, something seductive, and as you bring the glass to your lips you're suddenly aware that beneath the alcohol you feel a bit... uneasy.

You're fucked up. You're really fucked up.

Tasha doesn't leave your side, something you're extremely grateful for. You're starting to have difficulty seeing straight, even walking is becoming confusing, let alone dancing. You grip Tasha's shoulders tightly on the dance floor as you both sway to the music, unsure exactly how long it's been since you arrived at the club. She's looking at you with hazy eyes, much drunker now than she was earlier, and your very intoxicated brain is wondering if you're actually going to leave at some point or whether you're just stuck here for the rest of eternity.

You can feel Noah against your back. He's grinding against you to the song, hands on your hips as his groin presses firmly into your ass. It's weird, being in a Tasha-Noah sandwich that you didn't really sign up for. You're too drunk to really know what you want, actually. You feel fine having Tasha this close, feel safe in her embrace, but Noah's presence is starting to make you feel a bit uncomfortable.

"I'm really drunk," you slur, but it's too quiet for either Tasha or Noah to hear you. Tasha just nods as if she understands, head tilting back and mouth popping open as another song begins. She mouths something, probably I love this song, something she's said about ten times tonight.

Noah pulls you in closer, almost like he's tugging you away from Tasha, but your voice is too faint under the music for your protests to be heard. His arms come up to wrap around your middle, and you feel the unmistakable shape of his cock dip down between your cheeks through your dress. At first you think maybe it's unintentional, but then he does it again, and again, like he's using your body to get himself off. On the fucking dance floor.

"Let go of me," you breathe, but it's lost to the music. You watch as Tasha gets further away, your arms dropping completely from her shoulders as she turns and starts to spin on the spot, still staring up at the ceiling, unaware of what's happening. "Stop," you mumble, feeling his clothed cock rub against you again, a sensation you're now familiar with but certainly not in this context. And certainly not with someone who isn't Joel Miller.

The thought of Joel is what does it.

"STOP," you practically scream, yanking yourself away from him and taking a few heavy steps back, shaking your head frantically, "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME."

A few people are turning to look and Noah seems more than embarrassed, hands going up quickly. He's drunk too, you can see it in his face, in his eyes, but you already know he's certainly not the harmless young Texan you thought he was. That feeling of unease earlier sure as hell hadn't been the alcohol talking.

You feel a hand at your waist and you flinch but only for a second, gaze coming to rest on Tasha who's now standing beside you with a look of pure horror on her face.

"What'd he do?" she asks, voice panicked and quick, almost like she's not even drunk anymore, "Are you okay?"

You nod but you can feel tears in your eyes, threatening to spill over at any second. Your ears are ringing like they had last night, but it's different this time, almost like you're underwater as Tasha grips your arm and leads you toward the front of the club, away from the loud music and drunk people. Away from Noah.

"Oh my fucking god, I am so sorry," her voice is shaking with emotion when you get out onto the street, hand holding tight to your arm, "I didn't even notice what he was doing. Jesus fucking Christ," she pulls out her phone and dials the number for a cab - through your bleary eyes you see a few teardrops dribble down the bridge of her nose, "We're going home, I'm so sorry, honey."

"S'okay," you manage to garble out through your tears, flowing heavily now in your drunken state, "It happened really fast."

"Doesn't make it okay," she replies, bringing the phone to her ear.

No, it doesn't.

"I want Joel," you whisper through your tears once you're settled in the back seat of the cab, Tasha beside you with her hand resting soothingly on your arm.

"What, honey?" Tasha asks softly, "Say it again, can't hear you."

"I want Joel," you repeat, words slurred as your hands come up to cover your face, "I don't wanna go home. I want Joel."

"We can't go to Joel's," Tasha murmurs, stroking your arm, "It's almost three in the morning, he's asleep."

"I want Joel," you repeat, "I wanna see him."

"I need an address," the cab driver says over his shoulder; he's already started running the meter, "Don't got all night, girls."

Before Tasha can say anything you're spluttering out Joel's address through a sob. Tasha starts to protest but you shake your head furiously, tears scattering everywhere, "I'll just walk," you mumble adamantly, "If you change it I'll just get out and walk."

"But-"

"You owe me," you practically spit, "You owe me after what just happened." You don't mean it, but your brain is nowhere near sober enough to fully realize that. And neither is hers.

She doesn't say anything else.

It's very strange being back in your neighborhood not sober. Your mind is still ridiculously fuzzy from the alcohol but part of you is able to acknowledge how crazy it is that you're back here so late at night in such a drunken state, driving through the dark streets while your parents are none the wiser. The cab passes by your house and you find yourself ducking down into the seat, afraid they might see you despite it being almost three o'clock in the morning.

"Can you just keep the meter running?" Tasha asks the cab driver quietly as you approach Joel's house, "I'm not staying, I just wanna make sure she gets in okay and that someone's here to help her."

"You're not coming in," you mutter, voice still slurred and heavy. You don't look at her as you say it.

"I'll just wait in the car for a few minutes then," she says quietly, just as the cab comes to a stop in Joel's driveway.

His truck is here, just like this morning. Except this time there's no purple convertible blocking him in, no other woman standing on the front step hugging him, waving to him.

Anger rises in your chest at the memory.

"I still don't think this is a good idea," Tasha says softly - what happened earlier has clearly sobered her up, almost no trace of drunkenness in her speech, "He's asleep, there aren't any lights on."

"Then I'll wake him up," you mumble, opening the car door and stepping out into the cool night air.

"I'll wait here for a few-," she calls out to you but you slam the door before she can finish her sentence.

You're not sure why you're suddenly being so mean to her. That is, until you stagger up Joel's front steps and feel even more rage bubbling inside you at the thought of standing where he'd stood this morning, where she'd stood this morning. Where the woman from the bar had probably stood too. Oh. You're an angry drunk.

Without any hesitation you push down on the doorbell. You don't bother to wait in silence; you just keep pushing it and pushing it over and over, hearing the dull sound of the bell dinging inside the house. You're vaguely aware of a light being turned on behind the frosted glass as you lean your hand against the door, suddenly feeling dizzy now that you're standing again.

The door opens and you practically fall through it, squinting against the sudden bright light and bringing your hands up to your face as you stagger inside. You feel someone catch you, big hands coming to rest atop both of your arms, and then your name being said in a deep voice, husky with sleep.

Joel.

"Are you okay?" he asks somewhere above you; your ears are ringing again and his voice is loud and muffled, that underwater feeling coming back. You try to mumble something but it comes out an incoherent garble.

You feel him pull you inside, hear the door shut behind you as he kicks it closed with his foot. He guides you inside the living room and your eyes shut tightly against the brightness of the overhead light, shining down on top of you like a spotlight.

"Too bright," you manage to mumble out, bringing your hands up to cover your face. You find yourself being seated on the couch before the light is switched off, plunging you both into total darkness.

"Baby, what happened?" you hear him ask, voice still swimming thickly through your muted ears, "I've been so fuckin' worried about you, where've you been? Where'd you go?" you feel his hands take yours, gripping them tightly. They're so rough and callused, nothing at all like Noah's, and it makes you smile.

"Feels nice," you mutter, already forgetting what he asked you.

"What'd you take?" he asks, and you suddenly realize that there's a very frantic edge to his voice, thick with worry and... fear? "Huh? Tell me what you took so I can help."

"D-didn't take anything," you hiccup, shaking your head slowly.

"Christ, babygirl," he mutters, squeezing your hands again, "Where were you? I called you so many times, I texted you, I-"

"Tasha's got my phone," you mumble.

"Where's Tasha? She alright?"

"In the cab."

"Jesus," he releases your hand and stands up, turns on a dim lamp in the corner of the room so you're not in total darkness anymore. You watch with hooded eyes as he opens the front door again, walks out onto the step and starts gesturing something into the darkness. He looks ridiculous, waving his arms like that - it makes you giggle.

He turns around and walks back over to you with long strides. You can see his face more clearly now, expression lined with worry. He looks tired. He probably is.

"Just wanted you," you mutter, staring at him.

Before he can say anything Tasha is suddenly walking in through the door, expression stoic as she passes the threshold. She avoids Joel's gaze completely, looking only at you.

"What the fuck happened?" Joel asks her, any sort of introductory pleasantries gone out the window, "Where's she been? What'd she take?"

"Nice to meet you too," Tasha grumbles, hitching her purse over her shoulder and walking over to where you sit on the couch, "She's fine, we went clubbing and she got drunk. I'll take her back."

"No you fuckin' won't," he says indignantly, moving to stand directly in front of you with his arms crossed, "How could you let this happen to her? She's never done shit like this before, you know that right? She's never been drunk in her fuckin' life and you bring her back like this? You ever heard of takin' it fuckin' slow?"

"Oh please, like I'm gonna take advice from you," she snaps back, walking around him and reaching down to take your hand, "Come on, honey, we need to go. Now."

"She's not goin' with you, she's stayin' here," his voice is loud, louder than you've ever heard it. In fact, you don't think you've ever seen him mad before. It's strange, seeing the way his eyes narrow, his mouth downturned into an angry frown, fists tight against his chest.

"I only brought her here because she said she'd jump out and walk if I didn't," Tasha argues, voice firm, "She's safe with me."

"Safe, huh?" he scoffs, "So why the fuck do you have her phone? Do you know how many times I've tried to call her in the past fuckin' twelve hours? I was this close to callin' the fuckin' police."

"If anyone here needs the fucking police called on them it's you," Tasha's voice is louder now, every word echoing in your brain, "Fucking creep."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

Your drunken brain can't process much of what's going on at all, both Tasha and Joel's voices blending into one constant loud noise. You bring your hands up to your head and cover your ears, though it can only do so much to block out their voices. What they're saying still manages to come through, albeit muffled and distant.

"You heard what I said. Fucking. Creep." Tasha repeats, "She knows what you've been doing, you asshole."

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?"

"What, don't have the balls to admit it?"

"Admit what?"

"Stop," you say loudly, bringing your hands down from your ears, "Stop yelling, you're hurting my head."

Joel crouches down, picks up your hands and takes them in his again, peering into your eyes. You can't see him properly anymore and you hate it, can only make out bits and pieces as your eyesight just continues to get worse the longer you sit here. You feel sleepy, almost like you're on the edge of unconsciousness.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, thumbs stroking yours gently, "I'm sorry, babygirl. I'll stop yellin'."

You close your eyes, nodding and breathing deeply in and out, loving the feeling of having him touching you again. It's almost like last night didn't happen, like this morning didn't happen.

Last night. This morning.

You suddenly yank your hands away from him, eyes going wide as you remember exactly why you're even here in the first place, why you wanted to get fucked up to begin with. His face comes back into view again, expression confused.

"I know what you've been doing," you hiss, echoing Tasha's words and scooting away from him. You reach your hand up for her to take and she grips it tightly, helping you get up.

"Babygirl," he says softly, brown eyes tender and soft as he eases himself up from the floor, "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"We saw you," Tasha says then, linking her arm with yours, "At the bar last night." She means business now, you can hear it in her voice, "We saw you kiss someone else."

His expression changes instantly. Worry, anger, concern... all of it gone in a single second.

"That's what I thought," Tasha says firmly, then carefully eases you out of the living room, walks with you as far as the porch before you hear Joel speak.

His voice is quiet, shaky, "It's not what you think."

"Then what is it, exactly?" Tasha turns then, rounding on him again while you cling to her arm, "You're not playing her? You didn't waste weeks of her life making her feel special only for it to turn out you're just like the rest of them?"

He doesn't say anything and you can't bring yourself to look at him, heart in your throat and tears in your eyes once again as you stare at the hardwood floor.

"I didn't... that's not what..." he finally breathes, "It's not what you think. That's all I can say."

"That's all you can say?"

"Well, I can hardly fuckin' explain myself when she won't remember it, can I?" his voice is raw, hitching on the last few words, "Nothin'... nothin' happened other than some kissin'. It didn't go any further, I swear."

"And I'm just supposed to believe you?"

"I'm not askin' you to believe me," he breathes, "But that's the truth. That's the fuckin' truth, swear on my life."

"And what about the girl she saw leaving this morning?"

He's quiet again for a moment. You're still afraid to look at him, can barely even comprehend that this conversation is even really happening right now.

"That was - Jesus, I never wanted you to find out like this," he mutters, and Tasha laughs without humor.

"Yeah, you thought it'd just stay your little secret, huh?" It's hard to believe she's had just as much to drink as you have tonight - you wouldn't know it by the way she handles herself now, the way she speaks to Joel like she already knows him. She's done this before. She's no stranger to confronting men who did her wrong, or in this case, her friend.

"That was my daughter," he says softly.

Tasha freezes.

The words do their best to seep into your skin, to make their way into the sober depths of your brain that lie dormant, somewhere hidden. You still feel so fuzzy, bleary eyed and heavy and confused, but the words register somehow.

You slowly unhook your arm from Tasha's to finally look up from the floor, moving your gaze to Joel's still form. He's standing there by the couch, arms still crossed across his chest but not angry anymore, a look of pure sadness and shame on his face. He looks small.

"Y-you have a daughter?" you whisper.

"Yes," he replies softly, eyes slowly lifting to meeting yours, "And the woman at the bar, that was her mother. My ex wife." You see tears shining in his eyes, watch as his lip trembles as he softly whispers, "And I swear - I swear it never went further than some kisses. And it won't go any further than that ever again."

You feel Tasha reach down and squeeze your hand. What she's trying to communicate to you, you're not sure. You just stand there staring at him, unable to process this information in your current state, head swimming and ears still ringing.

"I'll tell you everything," he continues quietly, taking a slow step toward you, "When you're feelin' better, I swear. Anythin' you wanna know, I'll tell you." He takes another few steps until he's standing directly in front of you and Tasha, leaning down so he can peer directly into your eyes, "I'm so sorry it happened this way," he whispers, "I never thought - Jesus, I'm just so fuckin' sorry."

You swallow tightly around the lump in your throat, completely unsure of how you feel, of what you're supposed to say or do. Nothing makes sense. Nothing is computing properly.

"You need to take her home," he murmurs, pulling back and turning his attention to Tasha, "Look, I'm sorry for-"

"No, I'm sorry," she suddenly breathes, "I was- wow, that's... I mean, I wasn't expecting that. I'm sorry. I just, I thought-"

"It's okay," he replies, voice still a bit stiff, "Just get her back safe, okay? She's-" he cuts himself off to look at you again, eyes peering down at you sadly. "She's special."

Tasha nods, "I know she is."

The last thing you remember, the last thing that's at least semi-clear in your mind, is the soft look of affection on his face as he stands on his doorstep and watches you go.

You're not sure exactly what time it is when you wake up on Sunday. The only thing you're sure of is that your head is pounding and the sun streaming through the window is only making it worse. You roll over in bed and press your face into the pillow with a low moan.

You're never drinking that much ever again.

There's movement beside you and you open your eyes briefly to see Tasha laying in a similar position, still in her dress from yesterday, face smooshed into her own pillow. You can't remember how you got back, memories extremely hazy and shrouded completely in too much alcohol. The last thing you can remember is being at Joel's house, of the brief conversation he had with Tasha, the words he'd said to you...

My ex wife.

It never went further than some kisses.

That was my daughter.

Now that your brain isn't under the influence, you can finally think straight, can finally process everything he said to you last night. Or at least what you can remember. You roll over again with another moan, sensing nausea in the pit of your stomach.

"The hangover is the worst part," Tasha mumbles, and you turn your head to see her looking at you through messy mascara, smudged and smeared all over her eyes, "But you'll be okay."

You stare at her for a few seconds, everything else from the night before slowly coming back to you in bits and pieces. The club, Noah, the way you'd snapped at her...

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, "Tasha, I was so fucking mean to you."

The part of her lips that you can see curve upward into a smile and she shakes her head slowly, "It's all water under the bridge, babe," she murmurs, voice still heavy with sleep, "You had every right."

"No, I didn't. That stuff with Noah, that wasn't your fault."

"I should've known better than to invite him along," she sighs deeply, "I just wanted you to have fun, you know? I wanted you to forget about..." she trails off, biting her lip.

"I know," you breathe, "And I did, for a while. You couldn't have known about Noah, he certainly had me fooled."

She nods, closing her eyes and nuzzling the pillow a bit. You both lay there in silence, the elephant in the room growing bigger and bigger the longer you go without talking about it.

"So, Joel's got a daughter," you finally whisper, "And an ex wife."

She opens her eyes again, raising an eyebrow, "I'm surprised you remember that. You were pretty fucked up."

You wince, "Did I completely embarrass myself?"

"No, not at all," her hand comes up to touch your shoulder gently, thumbing the skin there, "You stood your ground, you did good. And now... now we know the truth."

"The truth," you echo.

More silence. It's like neither of you really knows what to say to the other. You're sure Tasha has already formulated her own opinion, has probably known since last night exactly how she feels about the whole thing. And that scares you a bit - because what if she doesn't feel the same way you do?

And how exactly do you feel about it anyway?

"I think he texted you again a little while ago," she finally says softly, pointing toward your phone on the night stand, "I heard it when I got up to use the bathroom. And there's a lot of texts there from yesterday. He, uh-" she bites her lip, "He was really worried about you, honey."

You reach over and pick up your phone, taking a deep breath before unlocking it and looking at the damage: 9 texts. 18 missed calls.

Shit. You suppose it makes sense. The last time you'd talked to him was on Friday morning in his kitchen, when you'd told him you were planning on going out with Tasha and having a girl's weekend, finally having your college experiences. He hadn't known anything that happened between then and last night, hadn't known you'd seen him at the bar, that you'd gone to his house on Saturday morning and left again, not giving him any explanation as to why you hadn't shown up for your lesson. To him, it had just been complete radio silence.

With a shaky finger you press his name, heart pounding as the unanswered text messages flood your screen. First, the three you've already seen:

Hope you're having a good night, babygirl. You deserve to have some fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe.❤️

You get home ok? Let me know x

Where are you?

And everything else:

???

Hey, I'm worried about you. Give me a call or a text ok?

Please call me.

I'm outta my mind over here baby. Please let me know you're alright.

I'm scared for you. Last I heard you were going out with your friend and then nothing since. Please call.

Just a text is all I need honey. I promise. If you're not feeling this anymore that's okay. Just wanna know you got home safe last night.

I'm so worried about you. I can't sleep. Please call me.

I don't know what to do angel. Can't stop thinking about you. Wish you were here in my arms. Please be safe.

Please.

The most recent text was sent this morning, around ten:

I'm so sorry. Words can't even describe how fucking ashamed and embarrassed I am. I can't imagine how horrible that must have been for you. I understand if you don't want to see me anymore, but I want to tell you everything, if you'll let me. I hope you're feeling okay today, angel. Drink lots of water, stay with Tasha. Text me whenever you're ready.

"Did you read these?" you ask Tasha softly, eyes unmoving from the last text, scanning the words over and over.

"No," she replies, "Just saw the notifications."

You scroll back up and read them again, and again, like you'll somehow be able to rewind time if you just keep reading them. You can't believe there's this many, can't believe that the man who'd been so distant the past week is the same man who sent you all of these.

The same man with a whole other life he never told you about.

"What do I do?" you whisper.

Tasha sighs, then carefully pulls herself up to lean against the headboard, crossing her legs and looking over at you, "What do you wanna do?"

You lock your phone again and sit up beside her, exhaling deeply, "I don't know."

You both sit there in silence for a few moments, lost in thought. You can't explain it but you feel nowhere near as betrayed or angry as you'd felt yesterday. Rage is no longer present - and neither is sadness. The only way you can describe how you feel is... relieved.

"He has a daughter and an ex wife," you state.

"He does."

"He has a daughter and an ex wife," somehow saying it again makes it feel more real, but the words still don't trigger any strong emotions. You sigh and look at Tasha, urging her to say something else.

"So, other than that, what's changed?" she asks.

You bite your lip and turn away from her again, shrugging your shoulders slowly, "I mean, that's... that's a lot."

"It is," she agrees softly, "It is a lot."

You swallow, fingers playing with the edge of your dress, reminding you that you're still wearing the same outfit from yesterday. God, you need a shower. You need to wash this entire experience off of you.

"You remember where we landed Friday night?" Tasha asks suddenly, "We talked about the possibility of him kissing someone else and we agreed that communication was the way to go, right?"

"That was before we knew he had a daughter and an ex wife, Tasha."

"Yeah, well... now we do know. And we know he's willing to talk to you about it," she twists her mouth in thought, "So do you wanna talk to him about it?"

"...I don't know."

She suddenly eases herself off the bed, stretching her arms above her head and yawning loudly. You watch as she assesses her pillow, grimaces at the dark makeup stains on the white cotton.

"I'm scared," you admit softly, avoiding her gaze.

"What are you scared of?"

You don't know how to answer that, biting your lip and sniffling a bit. You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them and leaning your face into your warm skin.

"You're falling in love with him, aren't you?" she asks quietly, absolutely no judgement in her voice, "That's it, isn't it? You're really starting to fall and that's why you're scared."

You can't speak, unable to say anything because you know you'll burst into tears if you do. Instead, you nod your head slowly, up and down against your knees.

"Then you gotta talk to him, honey," she kneels down on the bed, places her hand on your shoulder soothingly, "You gotta hear what he has to say."

You groan, bringing your hands up to cover your face as you stretch out your legs again, turning on the bed and scooching downward to smoosh your face back into the pillow.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Tasha murmurs softly, "I feel disgusting."

"Welcome to the club," you mumble into the pillow.

You're vaguely aware of Tasha moving around you, grabbing things from the nightstand and puttering around the room as she gets ready for her shower. You sense her standing close to you for a bit longer than necessary, like she's just staring at you without really knowing what to say. With a roll of your eyes you turn to face her, and you catch the briefest moment that she places your phone back down on the nightstand.

Your brow furrows, "What are you doing with my phone?"

"Nothing," she says quickly, turning around and leaving the room without another word.

You fall back to sleep without meaning to, and when you wake again, it's only because you hear someone talking in the other room, someone with a deep voice. Tasha must be watching a movie. You curl in on yourself a bit, rubbing your eyes and wincing when you feel the makeup smudge across your face. You really should get up and shower.

You suddenly hear footsteps in the hallway, getting closer. But there's something different about them, something heavy in the way they sound against the floorboards.

The door opens and there's just silence for a few seconds, no movement. Then the footsteps return, closer now, slow and unsure.

You know it's him before his weight sinks into the bed.

Oh, Tasha. Of course you did.

You close your eyes as you feel his arms snake around you from behind. You allow him to pull you in close, feel his nose against the back of your neck, his scruff against your shoulder. He smells like his cologne, feels warm and solid against your back, the denim of his jeans brushing against your bare legs.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers.

You immediately turn within his embrace, coming face to face with the man who you've spent the past twenty four hours hating, being angry at, feeling betrayed by - he's looking at you with a tenderness you can't describe, lips downturned into a soft frown that says everything. He's upset. He's ashamed. He's sorry.

"Why did you kiss her?" you whisper.

He takes a breath, "We have this... arrangement," he murmurs, "We've had it for years. Whenever she's in town - which isn't very often, maybe once every three years or so - we sleep together. It's been goin' on for over twenty years now, it's just.. it's just what we do."

You nod slowly, eyes falling to his mouth and then back to his eyes, "But you didn't this time."

"We didn't," he breathes, "I swear to you, we didn't. We went back to my place, we... we were kissin'," he winces but doesn't close his eyes, keeping his gaze on you, "I.. I went to grab a condom out of my bedside table before things got heavy and I-" he cuts himself off, taking another breath.

"What?"

You watch as he reaches down into his pocket, fishes something out. He brings his hand up and extends his fingers, shows you what's sitting in the palm of his hand.

Your crucifix.

"I saw this," he breathes, "And all of a sudden, I just... I just knew I couldn't."

You stare at the gold cross, watch it glint in the sunlight still cascading through the windows. His breath hitches and your gaze goes back to his face, the lines and wrinkles and grey whiskers, his soft brown eyes and curved nose.

"I understand if you can't forgive me," he whispers, tears shining in his eyes, "I don't expect you to, but I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry that I did."

He closes his fist around the crucifix again and slowly brings it downward to your own hand, urging you to open it. He slips the chain past your fingers, goes to pull his hand away, but you stop him. You grip his hand tightly, the cross digging into both of your palms.

"We never established anything," you whisper softly, "We... we've never said that we're anything. It's just been sex."

He doesn't say anything, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks as he waits for you to speak again. He's so handsome, so unreal in a way that doesn't make sense to you, and probably never will.

"I wanna be yours," you breathe, meeting his gaze, "I don't want you to be with anyone else."

He leans forward to gently brush his nose to yours, eyes closing as he breathes deeply, the tears spilling over onto his cheeks.

"Okay," he whispers.

You know there's more for him to explain, so many more details you don't have yet that you do want to know. But in this moment, you don't care about any of it. You just want him.

It doesn't take long for you both to be completely undressed, clothes tossed over the sides of the bed as your naked bodies press warmly up against each other, soft and eager. He presses kisses to your neck, breathes you in, runs his fingers through your hair as he hovers above you with absolute need in his eyes, a look you're sure mirrors your own.

He knows you're still not ready without you having to say it. Knows this isn't the right time. There's no need for any words of reassurance or any questions. He knows what you need. You know what he needs.

His cock moves firmly down against your tummy beneath the sheets, his shaft settling perfectly against your pussy, already wet and aching for him like it had been the second he walked into the room. He puts both hands above your head, leans down to kiss you as he drags himself up and down within your folds, up and down, up and down.

It feels incredible, just having the thick length of him rubbing back and forth against your clit, the wide head catching at your entrance every now and then, eliciting a deep groan from Joel and soft whimpers from you. You grip his back tightly, broad and firm and yours, fingertips digging into his skin as he fucks himself against you.

"Feels so good," you whisper in his ear, voice trembling with every thrust, "Feels so good, Joel."

"I know it does, babygirl," he whispers, kissing your ear and grinding himself against you even deeper, moving his hands down to grip your hips as his cock continues to slip back and forth against your folds, "You're so sensitive, aren't you? That big cock feels so good against your little pussy, hm?"

You nod frantically, arms moving up a bit to wrap around his neck, your cheek brushing against his.

"You want a bit of my cock inside your hole, baby?" he whispers softly, secretly, pushing your hair away from your face, "Huh? You want the tip, honey? Just a little bit?"

You don't even have to think.

"Yes," you moan, "Yes, please, put it in, please."

"Okay, baby," he murmurs, pulling back a bit to look down at the mess you're making together, reaching his hand down to position his cock at your entrance, "Just the tip, babygirl, I won't go any further than that. Don't be scared."

"I'm not scared," you breathe, and you absolutely mean it, looking up at him with what you're sure is a completely wrecked expression, "I want it, Joel. Please."

He places the head of his cock against your hole gently, very gently. Then he takes your hands from around his neck and holds them in his, presses them up against his chest as he looks deep into your eyes. You look back, gaze never leaving his as he slowly pushes himself inside you - just the tip.

You gasp.

"Shhh," he breathes, squeezing your hands and continuing to peer into your eyes, never breaking eye contact, "Shhh, you're okay," he murmurs, "You're okay, angel."

You lay completely still, lips parting and eyes going hazy as you focus all your energy on experiencing this moment, on feeling the way the head of Joel's cock feels inside of you. It's pulsing, warm and wide and big inside your pussy, throbbing against your walls.

It feels fucking amazing.

"Joel," you whimper, eyes still locked completely on his.

"You're mine," he breathes, jaw tense and eyes alight with something you can only describe as pure passion, "You hear me? You're the only one I want. Don't want anyone else, baby. Nobody."

You nod desperately, thighs shaking as the fat head of his cock pushes inside just a little more, making you squirm. He stills his hips, still holding your hands against his warm chest.

"Look at us," he murmurs, "Just look."

Your gaze finally unlocks from his, eyes trailing downward to where you're connected, where the thick length of his cock juts out from between your legs. You rise a bit on the bed, whimpering as you look down at exactly where he sits inside of you, wet and dark and filthy and fucking beautiful.

"You can take all of me," he whispers, "I know you can, babygirl. But not now, not here."

"I know," you breathe, swallowing and looking up at him again with tears filling your eyes.

He pulls himself out of you then, places his thick and throbbing shaft against your pussy again and begins to thrust, moving downward so he's pressed up tightly against you, your hands caught between each other's bodies, the crucifix still hanging between your fingers.

"I'm gonna take you away with me, okay?" he says, almost a whimper as he stares into your eyes again, intense and focused, "We're gonna go away and I'm gonna tell you everything you wanna know about me, alright? And I'm gonna fuck you, baby. I'm gonna fuck you so good."

You're nodding as he speaks, whimpers and whines flowing continuously from your mouth as you near closer and closer to your orgasm, that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach growing stronger.

"I'll fuck you in the bed, I'll fuck you in the shower, I'll fuck you on the fucking floor," he groans, eyes suddenly shutting and breaking the eye contact he'd managed to hold for so long, his face coming down to bury itself in your neck, "You're mine, angel, you're mine."

"I'm yours," you cry as your climax hits you, knocks the wind out of you as you start to shake beneath him, your hole fluttering against the length of him, "I'm yours, Joel, only yours."

You feel his come hit your stomach, painting your skin as he releases a deep groan into your ear and puts his entire body weight on top of you. You just close your eyes and feel him, exist in this moment for as long as you can, just listening to his breathing match your own as you both come down from your high.

He nuzzles his face against the heat of your neck, squeezes your hand in his between your bodies. The crucifix digs into your palm but you barely feel it.

"I want you to keep it," you whisper in his ear, and he doesn't have to ask what you're talking about, just presses a soft kiss to your neck and finally pulls back to peer down at you with total adoration.

"Okay," he murmurs with a soft smile, "I will."

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

2K notes · View notes