#words can't express what he means to me 💕💕

[singsofsilver]

so if you've got to spend your time, oh, won't you spend it with me? 🧡

happy 1 year anniversary to the love of my life!

[writeroutoftime]

our family

pairing: tyler owens x fem!reader (requested by: @piratejakesgf)

summary: it's the first morning tyler is going back to storm chasing after the birth of your daughter and he finds he needs some reassurances in the nursey.

warnings: none (though not proofread lol)

words: 0.7k

a/n: oh my goodness, thank you for this request!! it was so sweet and fun to write! imagining this man as a father truly made me swoon! please enjoy!! 💕

oOoOo

The sun slowly began peaking over the skyline - a gentle nudge to those still asleep that morning was soon arriving. Not included in that group was Tyler Owens. Instead, he stood in the baby pink nursey, staring down in the crib at his seven-month-old daughter. His finger stroked over her soft cheek, memorizing every breath she took.

Tyler thought the moment he met and fell for you that his life was changed forever. But it changed all over ago seven months ago when he held his daughter for the first time. It was then that he knew nothing in his life was more important than being there for his two girls.

He could feel the anxiety building in his body the longer he stood and simply watched. Tyler knew that eventually he was going to have to tear himself away from her, from you, and get back out to chasing. And dep down, he truly was excited. To be back with his team, doing what he loved. But it all felt so much more complicated now.

He went through a similar spiral once 'I love you's' were shared between each other. It was so easy to go out in the middle of a damn tornado when there was no one waiting for him. And now there were two people who would be waiting to for him to make it home safely.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, Tyler didn't hear you shuffle into the nursey. It was only when you wrapped your arms around his frame and pressed your cheek against his sturdy back that he found himself relaxing the tiniest bit.

"Morning, darling." he whispered, letting go of the crib railings in favor of grasping your hands with his.

Your response of incoherent mumbles brought a much-needed smile to his face. Carefully, he untangled your limbs and turned you until your sleepy face met his green eyes. He titled his head forward so his forehead could rest against yours, soaking in this quiet moment.

"How you feeling today, cowboy?" you whispered, not wanting to shatter the bubble that encompassed you both.

Tyler sighed and stepped back so he could pull you into his chest. "I, I don't know if I'm being honest." he confessed. "Don't get me wrong, I'm excited to be back out with the team again, but..."

"But?" you prompted, offering Tyler a space to just think and talk with zero judgments.

"But, I also don't want to leave the two of you. I mean what if something happens here while I'm gone? O-or what if something happens to me while I'm out there?"

You took a moment to carefully craft your response. "I can't say that I won't be worried while you're out there. But that's nothing new. I know you're going to do everything in your power to come home to me - to us." you said, your voice firm.

"Of course I will." Tyler vowed

"Well, we'll be waiting for you when you come home. And that'll just mean the reunion is that much sweeter." you told him with a sly smile.

Greedily, you pushed forward until your lips met Tyler's chapped ones. He responded immediately and held you impossibly tighter. The kiss was long and full of passion, both of you expressing everything that couldn't be said. Love, passion, and promises of more early morning kisses to come.

You eventually pull away and swayed slightly in the nursey as Tyler still held you tightly. Though he felt more relaxed, you could tell there was something he was holding back. As gently as you could, you grasped his chin in your fingers and forced him to look at you.

"And, when you come back home, if it still doesn't feel right - we'll figure it out. We're always here for you, whatever it is you're going to do."

Tyler nodded, teeth caught on his lips as he tried to hold back his tears. "What would I do without you both?" he asked with a small laugh. And when he got into his truck and turned back to see you and your daughter waving goodbye to him, he knew he'd make it back to you whatever mother nature threw his way.

[minisugakoobies]

Paradise | JJK - Epilogue

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: it's happy ending time!, lots of domestic cuteness, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), shower sex, teasing, dirty talk, someone gets a lap dance 👀, sex in the champagne room, aka sex at work (don't be that coworker!), unprotected sex (monogamous relationship with alternate bc), multiple orgasms

Word Count: 9.1k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: And now we've reached the end! I can't believe it's been three years this month since OC and Jungkook's story began!! A gigantic THANK YOU to everyone who has liked, commented, reblogged, recommended, and/or sent asks about Paradise. This is for you! 💜

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you!  Tell me what you think of the ending! 💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist

Bzzzzzzt

Saturday afternoon dawns bright. You can hear birds chirping outside the windows, joined by the buzzing of bees.

Those are some loud fucking bees.

No wait, that’s your phone.

Bzzzzzzt

You grab it off the nightstand.

Huh, nope. No missed texts or calls.

Bzzzzzzt

What the hell is that sound?

Throwing back the covers, you lug yourself out of bed, snatch a t-shirt from the floor and yank it on, and traipse down the hall, following the incessant hum.

Bzzzzzzt

The noise leads you to the bathroom, where your boyfriend stands over the sink, examining himself in the mirror. 

“Hey, jagi,” Jungkook greets you warmly. “Did I wake you? Sorry.” He leans over, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“No, it wasn’t you. I heard some sort of buzzing.”

“Ah, yeah, that was me.” He holds up some sort of metallic grey tool. An electric razor? But he doesn’t have one of those. You know by now that he waxes for his job, and what little hair ever appears on his face he takes care of with a simple disposable razor. “Testing this out.”

“I didn’t know you had one of those,” you say, leaning against the doorway. 

“I don’t. Namjoon-hyung let me borrow it.” He tilts his head left and right, staring at his reflection.

“Borrow it for wh-oooh my god, Kookie, no!” 

Your question becomes a wild wail as your boyfriend brandishes the razor and in one swift move shaves off a chunk of his hair. Watching the dark locks tumble into the sink feels like a scene from a horror movie, unfurling in slow motion.

You glance at Jungkook. Where glorious waves once adorned the side of his handsome face, there is now naught but stubble. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook chuckles as he examines his handiwork. “What’s wrong, jagiya? You don’t want to see a fresh new me?”

“Not if it means sacrificing your gorgeous hair!” you pout.

Of course you love all of your boyfriend. Goes without saying. But his hair! It’s so pretty and thick and silky and fluffy and - 

-and he’s going to shave it all off??

Bzzzzzzt

Another swath joins the first. Two sad curls at the bottom of the sink. 

“Kookie, why?” you lament. “Your pretty hair!”

“Relax!” He laughs, running his tattooed fingers over the scruff that remains where he’s shaved so far. “It’ll grow back eventually. You’re starting to make me think you only love me for -“

Upon catching sight of the expression on your face, he trails off, eyes widening.

“Don’t be stupid,” you reassure him. “I love you for so many reasons. More than there are stars in the sky.”

He grins, turning away.

“Your hair is just, like, 25% of that. Maybe 30.”

“Okay, I’m kicking you out now.” 

“Don’t bother. I’m going. I can’t bear to watch anymore.” You spin on your heel, heading for the kitchen. “If you need me, I’ll be crying into my cereal, mourning over breakfast.”

“Could you mourn me up a smoothie while you’re at it?” 

As you raise your hand over your head to flip him off, he giggles, pausing in his task to admire the way your ass peeks out from under the t-shirt of his that you’re wearing, before disappearing back into the bathroom.

In the kitchen, you quickly whip up a banana smoothie, appreciating how the obnoxious whirr of the mixer drowns out the evil buzzing echoing down the hallway. Sticking the smoothie into the fridge to keep cold until your boyfriend finishes murdering his hair, you sit down to enjoy a bowl of your favorite sugary cereal.

It hasn’t taken much for you to acclimate to Jungkook’s schedule over the last few months since Jennie’s wedding. You’ve all but moved in, hanging around his apartment (usually napping) until he gets home from work in the early hours of the morning. Most of the time, you stay up for a bit, talking and helping him unwind (sometimes fucking, sometimes giving him a gentle massage to soothe his muscles, sometimes just letting him lay with his head on your chest). Usually near dawn you fall asleep, and then wake at noon to spend the afternoon together until he leaves for Paradise in the evening. 

So you've become accustomed to a midday bowl of cereal by now. Of course, it helps that you’re no longer bound to the 9-to-5 life, ever since you quit your job.

The bathroom is rather quiet for several minutes, so you figure Jungkook’s completed his horrible task. So you brace yourself for the sight of a shorn head - 

-only to be surprised when he strolls into the kitchen with a sharp undercut.

“Well?” He turns this way and that, striking poses as he walks over to you. “What do you think?”

His dark hair is slicked back, revealing a shorn section on each side of his head, perfectly highlighting his brow piercing. Long strands still flow on top, a swoop falling into his eyes as he smirks at you.

It defies the laws of reality, the way something like this can make your hot boyfriend even sexier. How is it even possible?

Standing, you extend your fingers, letting them run over the short hairs, enjoying the pleasant prickle. 

“I think I owe Namjoon a thank you card,” you murmur. The soft stubble tickles your fingertips, like fuzz on a peach. “Maybe even a gift basket.”

His smile grows as he draws you into his arms. “See, you were worried for nothing.”

“I really thought you were going to shave it all off!” you exclaim. Nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck, he laughs, amused huffs of breath dancing over your skin. 

“Nope.” He slides your hand into what remains of his hair, lithe fingers encouraging yours to wrap around his locks. “I am thinking about dyeing the rest, though. What do you think sounds better - cherry red or buttery blonde?”

“Blonde!” Did you blurt that out a little too fast? Maybe, judging by the cock of his eyebrow.

“Blonde it is.” 

“Do you want your smoothie?” You reach for the fridge door, but he stops you.

“I gotta clean up first. All those little hairs…” His eyes drop to your lips. “Time for a shower.” It’s an invitation that you’re all too happy to accept. 

Jungkook first steps under the spray of water to rinse away the hairs still clinging to his face and neck. But as soon as you join him, he crowds you against the wall of the tub, mouth meeting yours, hand diving between your legs, opening you up to take his cock. He’s a bit rushed in his movements, driven by a fervent need to bury himself inside you as quickly as possible, but you don’t care, just as desperate to feel him yourself. It doesn’t matter how many times the two of you do this - every time you need him just as much as you did the first time. 

When he slides into you, you let out a loud moan, knees already too weak to stand on. He holds you pinned against the tiles as he thrusts into you, wrapping one of your legs around his waist to help keep you up. “So good, jagi,” he grunts, setting a fast pace. All you can do is hang on, every stroke of his thick cock into your throbbing cunt making you sob his name, until your panting gives way to cries of ecstasy. He spills inside you then, his lips pressed to your cheek, breathing soft words of love across your skin. 

In the afternoon, after Jungkook has gone to meet Namjoon at the gym, you decide to take a walk downtown to get a little work done. It’s surprising to you how much has changed in the last few months. Before, the thought of working on a Saturday would’ve sent you into an anxious (and annoyed) spiral. But now? You’re not bothered by it at all. Apparently that’s what happens when you like your job. 

Not long after the wedding, you’d gone to the interview Wendy had graciously hooked you up with. Jungkook had helped you prepare, but you were still nervous as fuck. You needed to escape your current company. You needed this new job.

But as the interview progressed, that nervousness turned into a different sinking feeling. Because as the interviewer droned on and on about your responsibilities in this new position, it became more and more clear that you were essentially interviewing for the same job you were trying to leave. It wasn’t a way out. It was a trap. If you took this job, you’d be caught in the same quicksand, dragging you down again. 

Despite your growing sense of trepidation, the interview went incredibly well, and you felt pretty confident that you would be hearing from the company soon. Which left you with little time to figure out if you wanted the new job or not. 

In the end, it was your promise to Taehyung that made the decision for you. His presentation to the bank was a success, and with his new loan, he’d opened his own studio. Even though you’d done countless presentations over the years at your company, helping too many of their clients to count, this was the first time you’d actually felt joy at the result of your hard work. Helping Taehyung to achieve his dream was a special moment.

It also gave you an idea. A week later, you declined the new job offer. And turned in your notice to your employer. No more working for others.

Time to be your own boss.

It’s just a few blocks from your apartment building to where you’re headed. The bell hanging over the door chimes pleasantly as you let yourself into the little shop. Taehyung’s photography studio is technically closed on Sundays, but with the key he gave you, you can come and go as you please. It’s an arrangement that suits you well. 

As you’d expected, Taehyung is sitting in his office in the rear of the shop when you get back there. He nods a quiet greeting, then perks up when he sees the second cup in your hand. You’d stopped at the coffeehouse on your way here, knowing that Taehyung is still splitting his time between Paradise and his studio, which means he’s usually exhausted on Saturdays.

“You really are an angel,” he murmurs, grabbing the cup.

“I know,” you grin, taking a seat at the makeshift desk Taehyung had created for you. He’d been so grateful for your help that he’d insisted that you use his office as your own temporary workspace while you established your consulting business. You were in no position to turn down free rent, but you’d agreed to only if he let you act as his interim bookkeeper. It was only fair. “Where’s Yeontan?”

“I gave my assistant the day off,” Taehyung replies. “He’s back at the apartment with Ji and Min.” He pauses to stretch lazily. “Thanks again for helping with the move the other day. We still owe you and Kook dinner.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you pay up.” You never turn down a free meal, though honestly, it was enough of a reward for you that you’d gotten to watch your friend Jisoo fall in love with her two boyfriends over the last few months. That’s the word she’d used for them both the other day, when you all helped Taehyung move into Jimin’s place. You hadn’t seen Jisoo this head over heels for anyone since… well, since you’d known her.

Taehyung sips his iced Americano. “What are you working on today?”

“Going over the stuff Felix sent me. We’re meeting with the bank on Tuesday.” 

Having Taehyung as your first official customer had been a blessing. After he’d raved about you to the other dancers at Paradise, you’d suddenly found yourself with a whole list of potential clients. There was Felix, who wanted to buy a food truck for his baking hobby and start a brownie delivery service; Namjoon, who was considering creating an urban nursery for the plants he grew in his tiny greenhouse; and Bang Chan, who wanted to discuss the possibility of running his own gym. Even Hoseok wanted to introduce you to a friend of his who was thinking about opening up a male strip club called Outlaws. You’d barely struck out on your own and yet your calendar was already packed.

You pull out your laptop and settle in. “What about you, what’s on your slate today?” 

“Just going over some shots.” 

The other dancers at Paradise were the best hype team. They’d spread word of mouth about Taehyung’s photography and the studio had been booked since day one. Not that his talent didn’t bring in customers on its own. But it was so touching to see the others rally around Taehyung like that. 

The other dancers had also embraced you warmly. You’d already met most of them from your visits to Paradise or the night of Taehyung’s exhibit, but once Jungkook introduced you as his girlfriend, it was like you’d gained an entire family of siblings overnight. And now that you’re on the inside, it’s so easy to see the way they care for one another. No wonder Jungkook loves working there so much. 

Well, that, and the tips he makes.

Taehyung slides over so you can see his screen. “It’s Jennie and Yoongi’s session, if you want to take a look.” 

“Oh, yes, please!” 

Jennie and her husband had recently booked a photography session to announce Jennie’s pregnancy. As Taehyung slowly scrolls through the shots, you try and fail to will yourself not to tear up. Your friend’s baby bump gets bigger every time you see her and it’s unreal to think that it won’t be long until Baby Min is here. 

Wordlessly, Taehyung hands you a tissue. 

“Thanks.” 

After spending so much time with Taehyung over the last few weeks, you understand why Jungkook adores him so much. He has a very comforting presence, which is nice for you right now, since building a company from scratch is a nerve-wracking experience. 

“So, tonight’s the night, right?” 

Again you grin, nodding. “Yeah.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“Excited. But also if I’m being honest, a little scared.” 

Everyone - all of your friends and family - has been super supportive for you during this time, lending their help whenever asked. But no one has been more supportive than Jungkook. He’s listened to you rant about your worries and fears at two in the morning when you know he wants nothing more than to hit the pillow and snooze until noon. He’s made you meals when you were too busy to tear yourself away from your computer to eat. He’s spent so much of his own time taking care of you that you started to fret you’d turned into another job for him. 

But when you voiced this concern to him, Jungkook shook his head. “Taking care of you isn’t a job,” he’d said. “I do these things because I want to, not because I have to.”

You’ve never known anyone like him before. Never known someone who could be so selfless, so freely giving of himself all the time. So freely giving of his devotion, in every sense of the word. You can’t help but want to worship him yourself. 

Despite his claims that he’s doing these things of his own free will, you still feel like you owe him something. A sign of your appreciation. Hence your plans for tonight.

“Why scared?” 

You finish your drink, but don’t put the cup down, twirling it in your hands as you think. “What if I make a total ass of myself?”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snort. Of course he’d be confident, if he were in your shoes. Taehyung radiates an aura of exceptional self-assuredness. It’s difficult to imagine him being rattled by anything. If tomorrow he was told that he needed to perform emergency brain surgery, he’d snap on his surgical gloves without so much as batting an eye. 

“Listen, I know Jungkook. More importantly, I know how much he loves you.” Taehyung flashes you a reassuring smile as you look at him. “There’s nothing you could do tonight to change that.”

The funny thing is, you’re pretty sure he’s right.

Jungkook’s already making dinner when you get back to his place. The delicious scent of gochujang jjigae draws you into his kitchen, where he stands facing the stove, his back to you. Walking up to him, you can’t resist sliding your arms around his waist.

“Hi,” you sigh, burying your face between his shoulder blades, breathing deep the ocean scent of his cologne. 

“Hey jagi,” he hums, a happy note vibrating through his chest as he rests his tattooed hand on top of yours for a second. “Food’s almost ready. Can you grab some bowls?” 

As you reach into his cabinet, it strikes you just how domestic this moment is, getting ready for dinner with Jungkook, like you’ve done so many times before. Thankfully, he’s the one who usually does the cooking, while you help however you can (typically just by staying out of his way - it’s what you do best in the kitchen). It’s unbelievable how easily you’ve fallen into this routine with him. Not a trace of fear in you as you reflect on it. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be back in time to eat with me, but I made enough for two just in case.” He joins you at his little table, ladling stew into your bowls, before he takes the seat across from you. He’s dressed like he usually is for work, just a hoodie and sweats, since he’ll be changing into costumes all night.

“You’re too good to me, Kookie,” you simper playfully with a sweet grin, but you really mean it, knowing that if you’d texted him that you wouldn’t be back, he’d still make extra and put it in the fridge for you. 

He rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears betray him, turning pink. The two of you dig into your meal, quietly enjoying the food and each other’s company. 

“I meant to ask you,” he says after a few minutes, “do you know when Jin-hyung will be back in town?” 

When you’d called things off with Seokjin, you’d made him promise to keep in touch while he was out traveling for his cooking show. He’d taken that pledge to heart, texting you brief updates and sending photos from the road. You’re glad to have made another friend from this whole experience. Especially one whose name you can drop to make hard-to-get dinner reservations. (Seokjin gets a real ego boost when you do that - he’s the one who suggested it in the first place.)

Though things had gotten off to a rocky start between Jungkook and Seokjin, they’d become fairly good friends themselves. It doesn’t really surprise you, since they have more in common than they thought (not even counting you) - both are talented and determined, funny and handsome, not to mention both give a hell of a lap dance. Also, it’s hard not to love Jungkook, no matter how you meet him. 

“Um, I think last time I heard from him, he said he’d be back in two weeks for a short break.”

“Good. That should give me enough time to finish.” He doesn’t say anything else, but you can read between the lines so well with him by now. 

“Jin’s going to love his portrait,” you reassure him. 

As soon as Seokjin had seen Jungkook’s artwork, he’d wasted no time in commissioning the younger man to paint his portrait, to be hung in his newest restaurant. You know that Jungkook is thrilled at the opportunity, but he’s also a little nervous, wanting to impress Seokjin. It’s pretty cute, truth be told. 

You glance up to find Jungkook watching you with a small smile. 

“What? What are you looking at? Am I a mess?” You grab your napkin, dabbing at your face, but he shakes his head. 

“Nothing. I’m happy you’re here. I feel like I’ve barely seen you the last few weeks, you’ve been out working so much.” 

“Oh, right.” You scratch your ear, giving him an apologetic look. “I know, I’ve been busy.”

“I’m not saying that’s bad!” Jungkook raises his hands. “I just… missed you.” 

“Kookie,” you sigh, heart bubbling over with fondness. Your boyfriend is such a sap.

You set down your spoon and rise to your feet, locking your arms around him. He looks up at you with so much love in his eyes you nearly pinch yourself. But you don’t have to. This isn’t a dream, it’s your life. Silently, you thank the universe for everything you did that led you to this man. Then you press a gentle kiss to his waiting lips. 

“I missed you too. But I’m hoping all this will be worth it.”

“It will be, jagiya,” Jungkook asserts, cupping your face gently. “I know it’s hard. But you know what you’re doing. And you’re not alone - you’ve got so many people in your corner. Like me.” He grins, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “I believe in you.” 

There’s a sudden lump in your throat, making it impossible to speak, so you let your lips express what you feel. What’s left of your dinner sits forgotten as you climb into his lap, kissing him until you’re both breathless. Only then you’re able to whisper a quiet thank you. 

Jungkook’s right. You can do this. Especially with him by your side.

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:15): Are we still on for brunch tomorrow?

Bestie 😇 (8:17): Yes! I miss you guys

Bestie 😇 (8:17): This baby’s not even here yet and they’re already keeping me busy

Bestie 😇 (8:18): Plus I’ve been craving waffles for days

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19): We miss you too! 

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19):  And you too, YN! You work too hard

You (8:20): I know 😔I miss you all too

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:21):  I’ll be there!

Queen Ji 👑 (8:22): Yes we’re doing brunch because YN needs to tell us allll about tonight!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): OH THAT’S RIGHT!

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:23): Ahhhh that’s tonight?!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): Break a leg! 🙌

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:24): LET’S GOOOOO

Queen Ji 👑 (8:24): You are going to KILL IT

Bestie 😇 (8:24): *airhorn.gif*

You (8:25): 🙈🙈

You (8:25): We’ll see

You (8:25): But thank you 😘

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26): Oh no! None of that

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26):  Trust me, you’ve got this

You (8:27): And just how are you so sure about that?

Queen Ji 👑 (8:28): Jimin told me. He never lies

You (8:29): I knew I should’ve asked Namjoon

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:29): As if he wouldn’t tell me

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:30): I like the guy but he can’t keep a secret to save his life

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:31): Relax, you’re gonna be amazing! Just have fun with it

Bestie 😇 (8:31): Yessssss have fun

Queen Ji 👑 (8:32): But also put your back into it

Bestie 😇 (8:33): You should probably stretch first

You (8:33): Yes, eomma, I will

Bestie 😇 (8:34): I’m going to kindly ask that you never call me that again

You (8:35): But you’ll be hearing it all the time soon!!

Bestie 😇 (8:35): Not from you though! 🙅

Queen Ji 👑 (8:36): Sorry, eomma, we’ll behave

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Oh god, *especially* not from you

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Okay I’m out. I’ll see you all tomorrow. But don’t forget!

Bestie 😇 (8:38): 📣You’ve got this! 📣

Queen Ji 👑 (8:38): She’s the best mom

A few hours later, you find yourself alone in an unfamiliar space. A small room, containing only a handful of pieces of dark furniture. Velvet curtains drape three of the walls, while the fourth is a mirror. A crystalline chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the glass reflecting the soft lighting, scattering shimmering spots of illumination around the room as the bass pumping from the overhead speaker makes the decoration bounce.

You wipe your sweaty palms on the skirt of your dress, wishing you could take your friends’ advice and relax right now. Instead, your nerves are jumpy and your pulse is racing. The waiting isn’t helping. 

As you switch seats for the tenth time since you got here (you can’t decide which is a better place to sit, on the pleather couch or the matching chair), you adjust your dress, hoping you look more confident than you feel. Confidence is key for what you’re about to do, according to Jimin. 

Maybe you should’ve thought this through more. More practice would’ve been helpful, too. Why did you decide to do this now? You’ve really got to work on your patience, you think, eyeing the couch again before moving seats again. 

The curtains sway slightly as the door to the room opens. Immediately your mind empties of all thoughts as your adrenaline kicks in. It’s showtime. You sit up, trying to strike an enticing pose, waiting for the man who opened the door to finish locking it and turn around. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting t- baby??” Jungkook freezes, head cocking to the side in confusion. You knew that Jimin had told him he had a Paradise customer waiting for him in a private room.  “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” you grin, suddenly feeling really shy. Which is the exact opposite of what you need to feel right now, if you’re going to pull this off. “So, um, surprise!” 

Jungkook smiles, obviously thrilled with your surprise, and crosses the tiny space in two strides. You stand to greet him, taking in his outfit, a silky black shirt unbuttoned over a pair of black leather pants. He looks just like he did the night of Jennie’s bachelorette party, only with a new haircut. The fabric of his top is soft beneath your fingertips as you lay your hands on his shoulders, accepting his kiss hello. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but… you know you didn’t have to pay to see me, right?” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “I’ll dance for you any time.” 

You do know that, because he’s danced for you several times now. Sometimes he likes to get your opinions on a new routine, and other times… other times, he just feels like dancing for you. 

Knowing all this, you nod, smoothing down the folds in his shirt, trying to distract yourself from the way your stomach is tying itself in knots. Relax, you remind yourself, taking a deep breath. There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s Jungkook. 

“I know. But this actually isn’t about me tonight. It’s about you.” 

Applying a little pressure on his shoulders, you push Jungkook onto the couch. He looks up at you questioningly, but doesn’t say anything, merely takes a seat. That’s so like him - to read you so well that he understands you’ve got something planned, so he’s letting you lead the moment. Just that tiny act of deference heartens you, leaving you more sure about what you’ve got planned. 

You walk over to the panel on the wall that controls the overhead speaker. Your phone is already hooked up, and with a few swipes, you change the playlist.

“I wanted to do something for you, to show you how much I appreciate everything you’ve been doing for me.” For some reason it’s easier to explain why you’re here without looking at Jungkook as you do it, so you fiddle with the phone a little as you speak. “I know the last few weeks have been stressful, because of everything I’m trying to do, and I just… I want to thank you. And I thought this was the best way to do it.” 

When you turn back around, Jungkook’s watching you with such a rapt expression that you can’t help but feel almost foolish about being so worried about this. It doesn’t matter if you can’t give him a show on the same level that he does. You’ve got his full attention no matter what you do. 

You’ve got his love. 

With that comforting thought, you take a steadying breath, in and out, and then begin. 

Dancing is really not your strong suit, but the biggest lesson Jimin taught you is that it’s not the moves themselves that matter - it’s the attitude with which you perform them. It’s all about setting a mood.

So you let the music guide you. Let yourself sink into the groove set by the drums and bass. Jungkook lets out a tiny “oh, fuck,” when you start to shake your hips. You fight the urge to giggle, biting your lip in a sultry manner instead. You’re wearing a cute but simple dress, something that will be easy to remove when the time comes, but you dance like you’re dressed in the sexiest outfit imaginable, sliding the skirt up your thighs a little to tease him. 

Even though you’re only a few feet away from Jungkook, you take your time approaching him, dragging out the anticipation. His hands rise automatically, reaching for you, but you dodge his grasp, taking them in your own hands instead. Something else Jimin taught you - lay down the rules right away. 

“I’m here to dance for you, Kookie. So let’s get one thing straight - I’m the one in charge.” You squeeze his hands to draw his attention to them as you place them at his sides. “That means no touching me, unless I say it’s okay.” 

Jungkook blinks at your words, but he doesn’t argue or try again to touch you. “Yes, baby,” he says, eyes brimming with adoration as he nods at you, and again you feel a surge of confidence. 

With your back to him, you place a hand on both of his knees, guiding him to spread his legs apart. Then you lower yourself into his lap, laying back against his chest and tilting your face towards his. If either of you leaned forward the slightest bit, your mouths would touch, but you resist the urge, and he waits breathlessly to see what you’re going to do next. 

You bring your arm up, then trail your hand down his chest, across your breasts and stomach, and on to his thigh, just skimming past his crotch. His hips buck slightly beneath you, and you grind in his lap, giving him the friction he seeks. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll touch you all you want,” you whisper. 

Jungkook groans loudly. You glide around the couch until you’re behind him and run your hands down his arms and over his chest. The silk of his shirt is starting to stick to him where he’s sweating. You’ve barely started and you’re already having an obvious effect on him.

It’s not just his temperature that’s rising, you note with a smug smile when you return to your spot in front of him. The tight material of his pants barely restrains his erection. Again you sit on his thighs, facing away from him, throwing your legs out in a wide stance as you pop to the beat. 

“Shit, baby, yes,” Jungkook praises you with a deep groan when you lean forward, giving him a good view of your ass as it bounces. “Where’d you learn to dance like this?” 

“Well, um…” you pause to bend further, nearly touching the ground, enjoying how Jungkook swears quietly when he gets a glimpse of your panties, “you know how I’ve been so busy lately?”

“Uh-huh…” Jungkook responds mindlessly, far too occupied with the sight in front of him. He’s being so patient, keeping his hands at his side like instructed, but the telltale twitching of his fingers lets you know that he’s fighting hard to behave.

You decide to take pity. Just a little. Turning, you straddle him, and grab his wrists. “Here you go,” you wink, placing his hands on your hips. “Just hold on for me.” 

Jungkook hums, vision trailing up your body from where your hips are swaying to where your breasts are now in his face. 

“I was working, but I wasn’t at Taehyung’s studio. I was taking some lessons from Jimin.” 

He looks up at that. “Wait, you were what?” 

The surprise on his face makes you giggle. There’s that wide-eyed Bambi look that you love so much. As the next track on your playlist starts, something a little slower, you shift into a grind, dragging your ass over Jungkook’s lap. He hisses, fingers tightening their grip, almost bruising in their hold, but he doesn’t try to guide you like he usually does when the two of you are in this position. It impresses you, the restraint he’s showing. 

It makes you want to make him lose control. 

You run your fingers through his hair, lifting it off his face, and lean close to his ear. “I wanted to make this good for you, baby. Give you exactly what you deserve.” Your lips hover across his cheek, not touching, but your breath caresses his skin, making him shudder beneath you. 

“Jagi,” Jungkook swallows thickly, eyelids heavy with desire as he peers at you. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these moves from me.” 

You bite back another big smile. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” 

His hands fall from your waist as you spin around, nudging his legs apart. Following the rhythm of the music, you undulate your body down his, your back sliding down his chest, then down his lap, until you’re on your knees. Then you place your hands on the ground in front of you, lowering your bottom half to the floor in a slow humping motion, before flashing him as you whip your legs into a split in order to roll yourself onto your back.

“Holy fuck, jagi,” Jungkook gasps, digging his hands into the couch on either side of his thighs, desperate for something to clutch. “You’re finally gonna do it. You’re going to be the actual death of me.” 

Despite yourself, you start giggling. “Kookie! Don’t make me laugh.” You take your time rising to your knees, then to your feet, playing with the hem of your skirt. “I want you to take this seriously.” 

“Oh, I am, baby, believe me.” Jungkook bites his lip, nodding. His eyes follow the path your hands take, dragging the skirt up to reveal your lower stomach. Meanwhile, one of his hands has found its way to his crotch, squeezing his hard cock through his pants. You’d considered making another rule earlier, that he couldn’t touch himself, but truthfully, you want to watch him enjoy himself. 

“Good boy,” you purr, and Jungkook whimpers loud enough for you to wonder if you’ve tapped into something previously undiscovered about him, but you’re too busy to ponder it any further as you swing your hips, using his knees to help you drop yourself down to the floor again in a low squat. 

The power you feel as he watches you is beyond intoxicating. What you’re doing right now is nothing compared to the skill he displays when he dances, but you understand a little better why he does this for a living. You feel like you could do anything right now. 

As you come back up, you lean into him, hands on his chest, your face so close to his, and this time the need to kiss him is too strong, so you stop denying yourself, connecting your mouths briefly, just enough to have him chasing you when you pull away. Before he can protest, you distract him by pulling your dress over your head in one swift movement. 

“Baby,” he moans, eyeing the matching lingerie set you picked out especially for tonight, his favorite color and his favorite texture, the black lace just begging him to run his fingertips all over it. “Is that new?” 

Of course he’d notice. He’s got the contents of your underwear drawer practically memorized. Not surprising since most of the sets are from him. He’s got a thing for nice lingerie and you’re more than happy to indulge him. 

“Bought it just for you.” With your back to him, you straddle one of his thighs, centering yourself on the thick muscle, and roll your hips in slow figure eights. Grabbing his hands, you wrap them around you, placing one on your bra and the other just over the band of your panties. “Do you like?” 

Jungkook’s answer is a wordless growl as he strokes the lace. You hum, tossing your head back so it rests on his shoulder, and slip the hand over your lower stomach down further, until he’s cupping your mound. 

“Ah!” you gasp, hips jutting forward when his eager fingers go rogue and press against you in a sign of his slipping control. “I - I’m guessing that means yes.” 

“It means fuck yes,” Jungkook declares. “You’re driving me insane right now, you know that?” 

“I think I’m getting the idea,” you reply, trying to focus on finishing your dance and not just outright humping his hand. Tracing your fingernails down his forearms makes him loosen his grip enough for you to climb off him. As the next track plays, you drape yourself over the side of the couch so your back hits his lap, and lie there shimmying to the beat for a few seconds before unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. 

“Jagiya,” Jungkook rasps roughly, tongue licking furiously at his lips, and even though you’re only maybe halfway through the routine you’d been practicing, you decide to skip to the end, because clearly your boyfriend is close to breaking, and frankly, so are you. 

You throw your leg over his lap, straddling him again. Taking his hands, you lace your fingers together, using him as a counterweight to help you dip backwards, so low your head nearly brushes the ground, before you roll back up, pressing your forehead to his. You stare at his mouth and he stares at yours as you inhale a steadying breath to speak.

“You can touch me now.” 

The current of electricity simmering between you suddenly blazes out, igniting the air around you. His hands slide to the small of your back, and your arms loop around his neck, both of you pulling each other as close as possible as you meet in a charged kiss. Jungkook moans into your lips, tongue chasing the sound. Your mouth parts to let him in. 

Jungkook’s hands keep moving, gripping your waist, your ass, your breasts - it’s like he’s been starving for you, like those few minutes that he wasn’t allowed to hold you were an eternity and now that they’re over he must take his fill. Your skin vibrates beneath his fingertips, so much pent-up energy ready to burst, and you seek an outlet, grinding your hips down onto his. 

“Kookie,” you whine helplessly, and Jungkook grunts in response, rutting his erection against you, fitting between your legs so perfectly, the two of you like puzzle pieces coming together to form a complete picture of lust. 

“I’m here, jagi,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jawline and back to your mouth before continuing down the other side. “I’m here.” 

In a second, you’re on your back, watching Jungkook peel off his shirt before he covers your body with his. His kisses are just as greedy as his touches, and you lose yourself in him, devouring the desire on his lips with a wild ravenousness of your own. 

But as he trails kisses down your body, you open your eyes and stare directly at the chandelier hanging over you, and a thought hits you with startling clarity - oh, right, you’re still at Paradise. At Jungkook’s place of work. 

“Jungkook. Jungkook,” you repeat, threading your fingers through his hair to tug his head off your breast, where his tongue was lapping at your nipple. “Should we do this here?” 

Jungkook blinks at you a few times. “Isn’t this - don’t you want to?” 

Of course you want to. But all those times you’d pictured this moment, your best hope was that he’d enjoy the dance and promise to thank you in private later when he got off work. You hadn’t really considered that you’d do such an amazing job that the two of you would fuck on the spot. (Okay, that’s a lie, you’d considered it a lot. But still. Imagining fucking your boyfriend at his job and actually fucking your boyfriend at his job are two very different things.)

“I want to,” you reassure him, brushing a wandering drop of sweat from his brow. “I just don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek. “Baby, trust me, I’m not the first one to do this. There’s a reason “no sex in the champagne room” is a saying.” He sees the mix of confusion and disgust on your face and laughs again. “I’m not worrying about it and neither should you. But if you are, we don’t have to do anything. This has been more than enough for me.”

“So… you liked your dance?” you ask in a tiny voice.

Jungkook lets out a pained groan. “Baby, I loved it. I can’t believe you did all this for me.” His hand brushes over your hip, playing with the lace there. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Not true.” If anything, he’s the one too good to you. “But I’m trying.” 

He kisses you again, slow and sweet. You feel yourself melting into his embrace. Any remaining concerns vanish as Jungkook lowers his head, taking your nipple into his mouth again with a messy kiss. If he’s not worried, why should you be? Besides, as you arch your back, chasing Jungkook’s tongue as he drags it down your torso, only an apocalypse could stop you now, and maybe not even that. 

“You know,” you start, gasping slightly when his teeth graze lightly over the swell of your stomach, “I’ve fantasized about this.”  

Jungkook glances up at you. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. I mean, I usually pictured you dancing for me, but, um, we always ended up fucking.” A flash of heat licks the back of your neck as you meet Jungkook’s eye. 

“That’s usually how I imagine it, too,” Jungkook informs you. The casual admission of this mutual secret fantasy stokes your arousal. Jungkook flames it further when he ruts his hard cock against you. “Sometimes you ride me, sometimes I bend you over this couch, but it always starts with me giving you a private show.” 

Your breath leaves you in a hiss. “Fuck. That sounds good.” 

“Which one?”

“Both,” you groan, rolling your hips. “All of it.” 

Jungkook kisses your neck to smother his laughter. “It’s not too late, you know. I can make those fantasies come true.” His tone deepens as he speaks, becoming darker. Oh, you know this tone so well. He’s shifting to demon mode. 

“Another time. I mean,” you clarify immediately, not wanting him to misunderstand, “you can give me a private dance another time.”

“Aww, is my baby too worked up right now?” he teases, and this time he doesn’t bother to even try to hide his laughter when you whine, pressing your hips into him again. “Okay, jagi, I promise I’ll dance for you another time. I won’t make you wait any longer.” 

Again he slides down your body, kissing over the soft lace of your underwear. He pulls your thighs apart with his hands so he can stick his face directly between them. His stuttered breath blows hot over the damp material barely covering you. Impatient, you reach to push your panties down, but Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them over your head. “Kook!” 

Jungkook shakes his head at your pouty cry. Leaning over you, he catches your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling it to his mouth for another wet kiss. 

“Let me, baby,” he coos sweetly, and then he takes the lace band in his teeth and slowly drags your panties down your body using only his mouth. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” you moan, unable to tear your gaze away. Jungkook hums, dropping the sodden silk on the ground before lowering his lips to kiss your pussy. He’s sloppy and loud, and in a brief lucid flash of sanity you pray that the music covers the sounds out in the hallway. 

Jungkook always moves at his own pace, in his own time, and nowhere is that more evident than the way goes down on you. He loves building you up slowly, so slowly, until you’re going out of your mind begging him to let you cum. Tonight, however, he’s moving fast, slipping two fingers inside you, getting you ready for him.  If asked, he’d claim it was for you, but the truth is that he needs you as much as you need him right now. 

“Love the way you taste,” he murmurs, fingers spreading you wider, dragging his tongue over your clit. He curls his fingers, smirking at your gasp, and repeats the movement. It feels so good, too good, so your hand snakes out and grabs his wrist, and he stills, looking up at you in confusion. 

“Wanna come on your cock,” you explain.

He groans, reclining back on his knees. “Whatever you want, jagiya,” he says, fingers flying to the laces on his leather pants. He’s used to taking his time untying them on stage, drawing the moment out seductively, a marked contrast to the clumsy way he tugs on them now, trying to undo them as quickly as he can. 

With only a little bit of struggling, he pushes his pants down, then kicks them off completely. He wraps one hand around his hard length, thumb and forefinger pinching slightly just below the flushed head. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at him, taking in sight of this gorgeous man kneeling between your legs, looking every bit as hungry as you feel. 

“Tell me how you want it.”

You clench unconsciously at Jungkook’s command, mind running through all the possibilities. Honestly, you don’t care how, you just need him inside you now. 

So you reach out, gently prying his fingers away from his cock. Jungkook sighs when you take it in your hand, a sound of deep-seated contentment, like he’s been waiting all night for you to touch him. You understand the sentiment, thighs twitching as you slowly pump him a few times, using his slickness to make your movements easier. 

“Just like this,” you say, guiding him towards your slit. He hisses as you slide his head through your folds, and presses forward a bit, helping you coat him in your arousal. 

“Okay, jagiya,” he murmurs. He arranges himself between your legs, lifting one calf, then the other, over his broad shoulders. You shiver, breathless with anticipation as you catch the feral glint in his eyes. “Just like this.” 

A harmonious pair of moans fill the room when he enters you. He waits for a moment, because as rushed as his fingering was, it wasn’t enough to fully stretch you out enough for him. When you whisper, “okay,” he starts to move. The first few rolls of his hips are slow and easy, him savoring the tight warmth of your cunt around him, you delighting in the sensation of being filled so completely. He kisses the side of your knee, staring down at you as you whimper beneath him with every languid thrust. 

When your hands stretch out for him, he leans down, bending you in half to press his mouth to yours. He sinks deeper into you, your bodies locking together more closely, and you lace your fingers through his hair, until you’re breathing each other’s kisses like air. You whisper Jungkook’s name and he sighs yours back. 

“Love you so much, jagi.” 

His mouth nudges your head to the side in search of that sensitive spot behind your ear, and you open your eyes to catch sight of the two of you in the mirror. Even if the room were pitch black right now, you’d be able to see yourself lying there, the way you’re lit from within. Your love for Jungkook burns inside you like a star in the night sky, pulsing bright and steady. 

“I love you, too.” 

Jungkook’s pace steadies, his pelvis starting to bounce off your ass with more speed.

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby,” you moan, watching him piston his cock inside you. “More, please, Kookie! More!” 

Never let it be said that your boyfriend doesn’t listen. He pulls out, getting off the couch, and, with strong hands gripping your thighs, positions you with your hips resting on the arm of the couch, to raise you high enough for him to plunge back in from a standing position. 

And then he gives you exactly what you asked for. 

Jungkook fucks you hard and fast. His furrowed brow drips with sweat as he snaps his hips into you. You know nothing could break his concentration now - eyes sharply focusing on your expression, ears listening for the change in the pitch of your voice. When he feels your walls starting to constrict, he grips your thighs to tilt you just enough to find the right angle to tap your sweet spot with every pump - 

“Jungkook!” With a loud gasp of his name, your climax arrives. Your cunt pulsates so tightly around him that Jungkook clamps his arms around your legs, pulling your ass flush against him so he can grind into you.

“Oh, fuck, jagi, ‘m so close.” His voice is already wrecked, sounding rough and broken. He bends slightly at the waist, forcing your legs closer to your stomach, putting you at an odd angle, but you’re still buzzing with pleasure so you don’t notice the stretch, just let out a low moan as Jungkook starts to move again. 

He bends further, sliding his hands behind your back, and then he lifts you, using that surprising strength of his to hold you as he slides around to sit on the couch. Your legs support you just long enough to straddle him, and then you sink down onto his cock, more than happy to collapse against Jungkook as he fucks up into you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, bringing one of his hands up to cup your cheek. “Always so good, jagi.” You meet his gaze, struck by the love you see in his eyes. No matter how often he looks at you like this, it makes your heart sing every time. You kiss him before sitting up, meeting his thrusts with your own movements.

“Come for me, Kookie,” you murmur sweetly, drawing your boyfriend’s eye with the movement of your hand as it heads down your stomach. Your fingers rub at your clit, rolling the engorged nub around, and the delicious drag of his cock inside your constricting walls has you hurtling towards a second orgasm just as Jungkook reaches his first.

Your playlist begins the last song as the two of you cling to each other on the couch. Jungkook’s arms are still locked around your back while you rest your head on his shoulder. He sings along quietly to the music, his soothing voice wrapping around you like a blanket. It’s a favorite song of his, just as it’s a favorite of yours - the song from your rooftop dance at Jennie and Yoongi’s wedding.

When the music ends, Jungkook sighs. “We should definitely do this again.” 

You laugh, sitting up. He grins at you and you lean forward to press a light peck to the tiny mole under his lip. “I may have booked you all night.” 

“Like I was gonna let you walk out of here anytime soon,” he scoffs. He stops your giggling with his kiss, lips soft and lingering, and you sigh, hugging him close again. 

There’s a part of you that can’t believe you just fucked your boyfriend in a strip club, but somehow it felt inevitable that you two would end up here like this. Like from the moment you walked in here all those months ago, there was no other way this would go. 

It was such a strange trip to think about. You had to go all the way to Paradise to meet the love of your life who lived next door. Fate could really take the most roundabout way, but the journey was more than worth it. 

“You really didn’t have to do all of this for me.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to the moment. 

“I want to do everything for you,” you reply with a shake of your head. “You deserve the world, Kookie.” 

“I have everything I could ever want, jagiya. Right here in my arms.” 

Normally, this is where you would roll your eyes at him for being so sappy, but that’s hard to do when you’re blinking back tears. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, so he knows that you feel the same way. 

“You know…” Jungkook starts after a few seconds, then stops. You shake him a little to urge him to go on. “There is something else I’ve been thinking about. Something I want to do, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be into it.” 

“What is it?”

He glances down, and there’s the shy bunny smile that you remember from all those months ago. “I’d love to paint you.” 

“Naked?” you whisper, hand to your chest, looking scandalized.

He laughs, nose wrinkling in glee. “That actually wasn’t what I meant but I’m absolutely down if you are.” 

“We’ll see,” you grin, kissing his cheek. “One thing at a time. Right now, we’ve got this room to ourselves, and I believe you promised me a dance.”

“Yes I did,” Jungkook agrees, chin jutting out to catch your next kiss with his lips. “Anything for my love.” 

“I love you, too,” you sigh, kissing him back. 

************************************************************************

A/N 2: Yes, there will still be some drabbles down the line, but this is the end of the main story! Thank you for sticking with me! 💕

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

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© 2021-22-23-24 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[joelscruff]

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."

[luimagines]

Hey hey!!! Saw you opened asks- so I wanted to send my love and appreciation for everything you do💕💕

Maybe a reverse of “You Blurt Out Who’s Your Favorite” , where the chain accidentally say that reader is their favorite? Silly pining ensues. (You don’t have to do this as always. Have a good day 💕)

Sure thing, Anti! I hope you have a good day too! <3 :D

Masterlist

Immediate Reader, boys under the cut!

"I am the best!"

"In your dreams!"

"The greatest!

"Uh-huh."

You snorted as the boys all ragged on each other. Typical sibling behavior.

They were all playing the game of 'Who is the greatest? Certainly not you.' And you were trying really hard to not make it seem like you were paying attention to their shenanigans.

"Well, Malon likes me more!"

"No way! I'm her favorite."

Screw it you're joining this.

"I am the favorite!" All eyes turn to you as you smirk.

"....I doubt that."

You laugh and cross your arms. "I have yet to be proven wrong."

"Well you're certainly mine."

***

Legend

Legend crosses his arms as he rolls his eyes. He sees the group look to him and huffs. "I mean, honestly- Hello? Have you met them? They're easily the odd man out here."

"Ok." You deadpan. "Rude."

"Which means-" Legend flicks your forehead non too gently. "-that you're not as annoying or willing to throw us all off of a cliff."

"That was one time!" Wild shouts from the back.

"Well regardless, I can trust them to get the work done with out having to pick up the slack." Legend admires the ring on his fingers, acting nonchalant about the whole thing.

Some of the boys all seem to shuffle nervously on their feet. they seem to know what he's talking about.

This catches your attention. "Wait- hold on. When was this? What happened?"

Legend grins, looking like the cat that caught the canary. "A while ago. You were too busy doing your part to notice that we had been left to get rid of the rest of the monsters."

That last part was pointed. And you don't think his bombastic side eye was helping matters.

Ok. So Legend was holding a grudge. That's good to know.

You cleared you throat and rubbed the back of your neck. "So... that makes me your favorite?"

"Especially so." Legend turns back to you. His expression almost changes in a full 180. Before it looked at if his glare could have set them all ablaze but now his gaze is almost... soft. Tender, even.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat and you're shocked that you're even beginning to feel flustered by it. "....Don't mention it."

"I haven't." Legend winks and you bite your lip, losing your nerve and looking away. "But I don't mind bringing it up that you've been most helpful."

"Ugh, gross, he's flirting." Wind groans and shoves his way between the two of you, breaking the moment in twain. "Get a room! We don't need to see it!"

"I wasn't flirting-"

"That wasn't-"

'Yeah, yeah..." Wind blows a raspberry, making some of the others boys snicker. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Twilight

"Thank you." You grin and happily start walking with a spring in your step.

Twilight seems to pause, letting his words sink into his head. The others rapidly catch on that he hadn't intended to say that out loud, but you seem none the wiser and actually quite pleased with this revelation.

You skip ahead and even go as far as to loop your arm with his. "I think you're pretty neat too, Twilight."

He coughs and rub the back of his neck with his free hand, letting you hold his dominant arm hostage. It's not like he's complaining. "I'm glad."

Hyrule snickers on the side lines and Twilight finds it in himself to send him a particularly nasty look. Over your head, naturally, so you don't see and don't get the hint that some of the other boy seem persistent to drop in his stead.

You drop your grip on his arm to hold his hand instead, swinging your hands together as you all walk. "Good to know that I'm the favorite over all."

"That can't be it." Legend says with a smirk on his face.

Twilight growls. "Shut it-"

"Twilight said so. You all heard it." You fire back, ignoring Twilight's words. "I am the favorite."

"Mhm." Time hums in agreement. "I don't see why not."

"Old man." Twilight stresses the nickname, pleading as wordlessly as he can to let the subject drop and let him live.

You finally look up to him with a tilt of your head. "Were you lying?"

Panic stabs his heart and he rips his hand away from you in shock as he tries to salvage the situation. Whatever it is he's trying to salvage anyway. "What?! No! Of course I wasn't lying! I think you're incredible!"

"Ok!" You grin as if nothing had happened and grab his hand again. "That's a relief. I wasn't going to say anything but you're my favorite too. So it all works out in the end."

Twilight flushes as you begin to drag him forward on the trail. "....I beg your pardon?"

"You're pardoned!" You start swinging your hands again. "Let's go!"

Time

You trip over your feet and snap your head to face the old man who hadn't even bothered to look in your direction.

Surprisingly, it was Twilight who spoke next. "...Well that doesn't very fair."

Time snorts but comments no further.

Part of you wants to beam in joy. And to rub it in the rest of the boy's faces.

That's high praise coming from Time and you all knew it.

There's a sudden pep in your step as you keep walking forward. "Ha! I'm Time's favorite. Na nana na~"

Time smirks and watches you with an amused smile. Wind groans dramatically and launches himself onto Time's arm. "But come on! We're all cool and nice and how come I'm not your favorite?"

"It's not that you're not my favorite." Time explains gently, chuckles as he pries Wind off of his arm with a particularly rough hair ruffle. "It's that they-" He points to you. "-don't make it their life mission to give me grey hairs before my time."

"You don't need our help to get grey hair, Old Man." Legend teases.

Time swipes at the hero playfully, letting him easily evade his grasp. "I'm fully aware. And yet you all seem keen on making it happen."

You laugh, feeling more proud of yourself than you probably should. It feels good, even if there's a little voice in your head that's telling you Time only said you were the favorite to tease the other heroes. Even if that were case, you can't bring yourself to mind it. You can tease the others about it as well!

Twilight seems particularly put out and you make it a point to stick your tongue out at him out of childish pettiness.

Twilight catches on and pouts harder, sticking his tongue out at you in return- right for Time to clock him in the back of his head. "Easy, Pup."

"They started it!" Twilight cries petulantly.

"I'm ending it." Time gets a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Besides, I didn't hear them arguing with you lot about who was the greatest among you."

You put your hands on your hips. "I am quite awesome though, aren't I?"

Time sighs. "A mark of a true hero is humility." He flicks your forehead. "But yes- you are awesome."

Sky

"Awww... Sky, that's so sweet!" You put your hand to your heart and grin at the suddenly bashful boy.

"Ah- well... You're welcome."

Hyrule laughs and slugs him on the shoulder. "You didn't intend to say that out loud, did you?"

"Nope." Sky scratches the back of his head.

"That's ok." You pat his back, feeling a little better about your own ego. "I think that makes it all the better."

"...Right..." Sky smiles a little tensely, seeming a little more nervous than he's willing to let know.

"Wait-" Warrior raises an eyebrow. He says your name questioningly. "Who's your favorite?"

"Oh! Hyrule."

"Huh?"

"Yup." You give Sky a wink while the other boys start rapidly firing questions. Not because they want to know why Hyrule, but they want to know why not them.

You know, like the children they are.

Sky relaxes a little bit when you walk forward to keep the attention of off him and onto yourself, giving him enough time to collect himself and then wonder if you wee serious or not.

So... you didn't technically help him despite your efforts, but you don't have to know where his head space is at.

"...You were serious, weren't you?" Hyrule says in a quite voice. "Did you mean that as in more than just being a favorite?"

"...So when I say I didn't intend to say that out loud-"

"Sky, oh my god."

"I know."

"You even looked them in the eye-!"

"I know!"

"..."

"..."

"....My condolences."

"Don't remind me." Sky groans, hiding his face in his hands.

Warrior

Everyone freezes before all heads slowly turn to him.

Your jaw drops in total shock. Of all people to say something in this context, in that manner, he was would have been at the bottom of the list.

Warrior raises a cool eyebrow, daring to smirk as the cherry on top.

No body makes a move, almost afraid to break the tedious atmosphere around the group and once rowdy boys.

You clear your throat, garnering the attention for yourself against your wishes. You however, keep your gaze on Warrior. The son of a gun winks.

You flush and feel the need to clear your throat again. You were trying to be sarcastic and facetious. You weren't expecting a genuine response. At least you think he's being serious. The silence certainly doesn't help you get your nerve back.

"Moving on." Warrior turns on his heel and begins to walk away, leaving you all in the wake of his cutting sentence.

You try to meet the eyes of the other but they're all looking at you for your reaction instead.

You throw up your hands in a desperate attempt to get the attention off of yourself. "I didn't tell him to say that!"

"Of course not." Warrior has the gall to speak once more on the topic. "But that doesn't make it any less true."

"You-!" You shout, unintentionally being louder than you intended. "SHUT! Not a peep out of you!"

Warrior gets a gleam in his eye that spells trouble for you later. He grins even wider and blows you a kiss.

You have half the mind to throw something at him.

Wild leans up next to you and bumps your shoulder with his. You turn to him in a desperate attempt to hide your shame. His eyebrows dance in a knowing fashion and you give completely. Shoving the Champion as far aware from you as you can, you also begin to get a move on for the day.

The others boys laugh quietly around you, amused at the turn of events.

"I hate all of you."

"No you don't!" Someone gleefully calls back to you.

"Why don't tell that to Warrior?" Four teases.

You plan revenge on him specifically. Instead of following through with that however, you speed up to catch up to Warrior.

"Am I really your favorite?" You find yourself saying before you could stop yourself.

Warrior chuckled. "Of course. Have I ever lied to you?'

"Well..." He has a point there. You take a deep breath. "No."

"Well, there you have it."

Four

"Are you serious?" Wind pouts. "I thought it was Time."

"Nope." Four puts his hands on his hips. "And unlike some people, I'm not afraid to speak my mind. I said it and I'll say it again. They're my favorite person here. Any one that disagree has to come up with some pretty convincing evidence to make me change my mind?"

You beam and feel yourself bubble up with happiness. You bounce on the balls of your feet and clap happily. "Yay! I'm Four's favorite!"

You turn to Sky excitedly, pointing in his face. "Eat it!"

He gives you a startled look before he starts laughing under his breath.

Four snorts and shakes his head. "Any objections?"

Most of the boys shake their heads, amusement twinkling in their eyes. Four grins as well and shrugs. "I guess we're done here."

You giggle like a maniac as everyone starts falling back into line, the conversation ending then and there with Four's declaration.

You on the other hand, feel like that you've gotten the ego boost of a life time. You're not entirely sure why. Being Four's favorite went straight to your head and elevated your mood to a whole other level.

"This is the greatest achievement of my life." You say, not entirely sarcastic as you wanted to sound. "I think I can die happy now."

"I didn't think it would make you this happy." Four noticed you bouncing on cloud nine. "Do you think I'm that special that it's so important to be my favorite?"

You pause and blush softly. A beat passes with all eyes on you and you decide to bite the bullet. "Of course I do. You're also my favorite person."

"Person?" Wild catches your slip up.

You snap your head to him and stick your tongue out. "Don't even start. I said what I said. I won't take it back."

You turn back to Four and see him giving you the softest smile. Your heart starts pounding in your chest. Oh. That's new. You finds yourself smiling back.

"Get a room!!" Warrior drops his hand to your head, nearly throwing you to the ground as he ruffles your hair. Twilight does the same to Four, ruining the moment.

"Hey-! Get off!" You shout and shove the hero away.

"Twilight, watch it!"

Wind

You snap your head in the direction of the voice and feel a wide grin cover your face. "Well thank you very much, Pirate."

You reach over and ruffle his hair roughly, playfully throwing off his balance as he yells and tries to fight you off without making it into a legitimate fight.

"Ok, ok, take it easy you two." Time steps in, taking your hand off of the boy with a light chuckle on his breath.

"That's it." You say, meeting the rest of the group with a wild gleam in your eye. You aim to start trouble. "Wind is officially my favorite too. The rest of you stink."

"Oh, come on. Be nice." Wild snickers, throwing his arms round your shoulders to shake you just as playfully. "We all have our good moments. Why does Wind get the sudden promotion?"

"Well you literally stink." You jokingly, pinch your nose and throw him off of you. "Come on, Wind."

You turn around, sticking your tongue out at all the other as they snicker at Wild's offended face. Wind was laughing loudly, happily taking your outstretched hand when you offered it.

"Let's go to the front of the group where all the cool kids hang out."

"Ok!" He giggles, swinging your hands together as you start to walk a little faster to get ahead of everyone else.

"Are we just going to let them get away with this?" Wild shouts, having his pride wounded by your throw away comment.

"I mean..." Sky shrugs.

"Seriously?!"

"They're not wrong." Warrior snort, gently knocking the back of the Wild's with the heel of his wrist. "Maybe change your clothes every once and a while."

"You're one to talk." Wild grumbled, taking out his sheikah slate to look for something to wear. "I am not that bad."

You bite your lip to keep your amusement at bay and shrug as well. "If it's any consolation, Wild, you're not as bad as Twilight."

"I heard that!"

"You were supposed to!" Wind calls out for you and laughs loudly once more, pulling you along before taking off in a sprint. You looked behind you to see what happened, only to see Twilight chasing after you both.

"Wind, run!"

Hyrule

"Rulie', you gotta warn people before you say things like that." Wild chuckles as he knocks the Traveler in the back of the head in your stead while you stood staring at the boy agape.

"Sorry." He blushes and rubs the back of his head. "I couldn't stop myself fast enough."

"Wait- hold up." You find yourself saying. "....You mean it. Like... really really, you mean it. You wouldn't react that way if you didn't."

Hyrule coughs and bite his lips, bravely meeting you in the eyes. Goodness- you didn't think you have a thing for him but that particular expression has all cylinders firing off in your brain at once. You didn't even know he could pull that kind of look off. And he's not even trying!! It's not that kid fo context!

"Yup... I uh-... Well, there's nothing wrong with admitting it, right?"

"Rulie' I thought we had something." Legend dramatically put his hand to his heart, falling with his full weight onto the other hero. "The betrayal is deep Hero of Hyrule."

"Get off of me!"

"Just twist the knife deeper while you're at it!"

You snort and quickly cover your mouth with your hands, horrified that sound escaped you so easily.

It catches Hyrule's attention easily.

In an attempt to clear yourself of the embarrassment, you lean heavily in your bravado and wink at the hero in front of you. Hyrule manages to throw Legend off of him but he suddenly can't look you in the eye.

Hey- it was to save yourself from the embarrassment, not him.

"Of course there's nothing wrong with it." You find yourself saying. You continue to lean into your bravado and put your hands on your hips. "You're my favorite too, Link. So don't worry about it."

"Wait, really?" He looks up back to you, with a light dusting of pink over his cheeks.

"Um- they said Link." Warrior throws his arm on Hyrule's head, using it as a head rest. "Clearly they meant me."

"They did not!" Wind jumps on Warrior's arm. "They meant me!"

You start laughing again and when your eyes meet Hyrule's once last time, you wink again for good measure.

You both know who you meant.

Wild

"Whoops, did I say that out loud?" Wild laughs awkward, bringing his hand to the back of his neck. He scratches it, worried about how all of the people in the group turn to look at him.

"Yes." Sky tilts his head, trying (and failing) to keep the smile off of his face. "Yes, you did."

"My bad." He coughs, clearing his throat in the process. He does nothing to clear the blush on his face.

"Really?" You whisper, feeling your heart swell.

Wild bite his lip, turning on his heel. If he was trying to play it off and be inconspicuous, he's doing a horrible job of sweeping it under the rug. "Of course. Now- where were we?"

"No nono no no-" You grin wider and begin to chase the resident wild child. "You're not running away from this."

He actually takes off in a sprint.

You squawk, as do some of the other boy in the group before you decide to call his bluff and chase him as well. "Wild, get back here!"

"No, I'm good!" He shouts over his shoulder.

You nearly stop as you process your words before you decide to pick up the pace. You don't respond at first, too focused on closing the distance. You watch the hero as he runs, watching the steps he takes to copy them and not trip over the unfamiliar terrain.

He's not familiar with it either, but he seems to assimilate to any climate faster than anyone else you've ever seen.

Until he starts to slow down and looks behind him to see you running at him at full speed.

The scream he lets out is nothing short of comical and the brief second it took him to process and react to what he was was enough to allow you tackle him.

It doesn't work. He's too strong to be knocked over that easily but an attempt was made.

You laugh, feel as light as feather and very much out of breath. "Am I really your favorite?"

"Why did you chase me?!"

"That doesn't answer my question." You smile cheekily.

Wild pants and puts his hands on your shoulders, pushing you away from him so that he could look into your eyes. "...Yes."

"Perfect!" You kiss his cheek and start to run back to the group before either of you could get into trouble. "See you back at the group!"

"....What does that even mean?"

[snoopyracing]

Hii! Can i request n.12 Feeling mad or annoyed with their crush for not realizing their feelings go deeper than just friendship.

With Lando?

Thankss!💕

hi!! hopefully you like it :))

lando + feeling mad or annoyed with their crush for not realizing their feelings go deeper than just friendship

lando wasn't sure just how more of this he could take. he'd tried so many times to hint to you that he liked you more than just a friend. hoping that after so many nights out where he ended up going home with you instead of some random girl, or how touchy he was with you, or when he literally told you he loved you any chance he got, that you would get that he liked you. but it was no use, you always brushed it off like it was on of your girlfriends expressing their love to you.

it drove him nuts, but instead of just outright telling you how he felt, he continued to just hint his feelings at you, like that had gotten him anywhere before.

he'd hoped that with this latest plan that you would finally see what he had been trying to tell you. he had spotted the necklace weeks ago while he was out shopping with max and as soon as his eyes landed on it he knew it was meant for you. he'd been waiting for the right time to give it to you and when you invited him over for dinner tonight he knew it was the perfect time.

dinner was amazing and the two of you chatted about work and races and everything under the sun. when you got up to grab the bottle of wine from the counter he knows this is his chance.

your brows furrow at the little black box sitting where your plate once was.

"what's this lando?" you ask as you sit down, fingers brushing over the velvet box.

"just a little something for you. thought you might like it." his cheeks are already turning pink and you haven't even opened the damn box. the gasp that leaves your mouth is probably heard throughout your apartment building when your eyes land on the gorgeous tennis necklace nestled in the box. "do you like it?"

you're still in shock as you hold the necklace in your hands. "like? i love it lando! i mean you really did not need to get this for me at all! but thank you so much! you're truly the best friend ever." his beaming smile drops at the word best friend and he tries to mask the annoyance that is now radiating throughout his body, but it's too late and you've already noticed. "what? did i say something wrong? i really do love it lan."

he shakes his head no, the chair scraping the floor as he gets up to help you put the necklace on. his fingers fumbled with the clasp and the sparks that travel through his fingertips as his fingers graze your skin only make how he's feeling worse.

you’re beaming as you jump up to go look in the mirror and lando is like your shadow, following behind towards the bathroom.

as the two of you stand there in front of the mirror he can't help but wish that you were his girlfriend. wish that he could kiss you after giving you that necklace. how he could stand behind you right now, his arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as you both admire his amazing taste in jewelry. but when you turn to him and ask how you look all he can say is.

"you look beautiful."

come chat it's sleepover saturday!!

[wildemaven]

1000 kisses to you and here's my 2 prompt picks for the drabble thingie: 4 and 15 with Javier

Can't wait to see what it leads to 😘

call me javi | javier peña

pairing: javier peña x reader word count: 651 content warning: mentions of alcohol and cigarettes, dancing, fluff, javier being protective and sweet, I don’t think there’s anything else note: sorry it took me so long to get to this!! I hope this works okay 💕 thanks for sending in your ask and for you support

“You're not as bad as everyone says you are.” You say loudly rather close to his ear, hoping he can hear over the booming music and crowded bar. 

It was a slow week at the embassy, which meant the DEA’s finest had a chance to let loose and enjoy themselves for once. 

Drinks flowing. Bodies grinding in tune with each song the DJ throws out, keeping the energy circulating throughout the small bar you all frequent regularly. 

Tonight would be like any other Friday with your fellow Agents, except this evening you find yourself drawn to one Agent in particular. 

His body has been firmly against yours for the better part of the evening, front and back. Hands holding you close no matter the pace of the song, selfishly worried you might drift away or find yourself in the arms of someone else. 

You lost count at the amount of times his lips brushed over your own ears. His constant need to check in with you had your chest tight and stomach full of fluttering desire. 

There was a small part of you that was feeling he might even like you. More than just a crush born from an evening of close proximity. There was never a thought that he would be, not with all the beautiful women constantly in his arms in all the years you’ve known him. 

With the way his warm brown eyes are so fixated on you says otherwise. His expression exchanged for something a little less brooding and a little more alluring. Hands still finding purchase by any means as you lean against the wall while his body shields you from onlookers. The dimly lit hallway near the back of the bar adds another layer of privacy. 

“Who’s everyone?” Javier’s voice is laced with a nervousness you’ve never heard before. The stoic demeanor he wears regularly now hangs up alongside his worn-in leather jacket. 

There’s a raspiness brought on by the pack of cigarettes he most likely blew through leading up to showing up here, even though he said he had other plans.

“Who do you think?” You smirk playfully at him, your fingers playing with the damp curls at the base of his neck. 

“Steve?” There was no need to even ask, he already knew how protective Steve was, rightfully so. Didn’t mean he still didn’t find his overbearing partner to be a pain in his ass, especially when it came to you. 

You nod in agreement, desperately trying to contain the laughter bubbling up as he huffs out  dramatically, shaking his head. The annoyance doesn’t last long though. The corners of his mouth lifting, revealing one of his best features. His smile makes you instantly weak and it has you prematurely looking forward to being on the receiving end of it forever. 

“Are you going to kiss me, Javier?” The prospect of his lips on you, in any capacity, had been overwhelming your every thought since he saddled up next to you at the beginning of the night.

Watching the way his lips formed every word he spoke. Cradling the edge of his glass on his plush lower lip as he sipped on his dry whiskey. Contorting in such a delicate way with each drag he pulled from his cigarette. 

They’re the softest lips you’ve ever had the pleasure of kissing. Excruciatingly blissful, deliberately encompassing your own, as your brain silently screams for more. 

“Javi.” Javi. It rolls off his tongue like a sweet springtime honey. Each letter electric as he says it, leaving your mouth tingling as it brands itself to your soul. 

“Hmm?” Too consumed by him to form words. 

“You can call me Javi from now on.” There’s a permanence in the way he says it, something you both have to discuss once the hangovers have worn off tomorrow. 

“Kiss me again— Javi.” And he does well into the next morning. 

[hisui-dreamer]

Omg, rinna requests are open ^0^ (and don't worry, you can take as much time as you want) I'd like to request leona with a reader who plays a lot of sports and sucks at all of them 😀 (me. i mean me lmao) Have a great day 💕💕💕💕 AND I SAW YOUR ISEKAI JADE FIC I REFUSE TO SIMP FOR SLIMY EELS. WHY.

the chasing game

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader

Synopsis: Leona's ego is a bit too strong, and oh dear, he thinks you have crush on him

Tags: fluff, misunderstandings (but they're cute), slight pining, leona is a tsundere

Word count: 707

Notes: my best friend and i had a lot of fun with this idea hehe, i hope you'll like it too hehe

Masterlist

Leona thinks you have some ulterior motive at first

why are you trying so hard at spelldrive??? you're not doing that well honestly

he finds no reason whatsoever you'd be so energetic when you're even performing that well

so he starts thinking... maybe you have an ulterior motive??

and somehow, probably because of his big ego he comes to the conclusion that you have a crush on him!!

after all, he is the captain of the spelldrive club

how else would you be able to get his attention?

in his mind, you're just a small little herbivore who's trying to get in his good graces

the smug lion is pretty amused by all this, and he can't say he minds having you around

you being that enthusiastic about playing sports, and the determination to get better no matter how many times you fail, is pretty impressive to him

though he sometimes cringes internally with how bad you're doing

by the time he can't take it, he'll saunter over to you and give you some advice

he'll sound like a jerk doing it, but if you read between the lines, he's giving you good advice

it's probably because he's been studying you for so long

so you listen to his advice, and oh? that shot went pretty well!!

you're jumping around all excited! finally there's some improvement!! maybe there are some sports cells in you after all

you get a bit too excited in thanking him and you throw your arms around him in the heat of the moment

he almost instantly pushes you away, obviously, saying you're sweaty and mumble grumbling

but there's no denying the way his tail is swishing around and the slightest hint of pink on his cheeks it's the sunset he says

from that point on, he'll occasionally join you as you practice, giving you advice and commenting on what you're doing wrong every time he feels like it

it also gives him a pretty good excuse to not actually participate in the sport

then again, he can't say he dislikes playing when you're in the audience

it usually ends up with you gushing over how impressive he was in the game, asking him if you could teach him how to do what he did, and in general just praise all throughout

this all but feeds into his pride, and he has the widest smirk on his face

he gets into an awful mood when you stop showing up for a while though

he becomes even more irritable, and there's more of a murderous aura about him when he's playing against the other guys

it doesn't take long for him to start asking around about where you've gone

epel is more than happy to solve this mystery for him so he'll stop beating people around

though he's pretty amazed by Leona actually putting effort into the games

and excuse me??? you're hanging around in the basketball club now??

little does he know, but you've merely shifted interest from spelldrive to basketball

but in his delusional misunderstood mind, this means you don't have a crush on him anymore

hah. that ended soon enough. he doesn't care at all.

... okay maybe he does actually care a bit

"Oi. Herbivore," Leona calls out to you in the hallway. You turn around and you're faced with his disgruntled expression. "Are ya not comin' to Spelldrive anymore?"

You blink at his question. "Oh! I think so? I got interested in basketball lately haha," you chuckle as you remember the little rivalry Ace started. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Hah. Why'd I mind?" he huffs, but there's something about his voice that makes you feel like he does mind.

"Leona," you close the distance between the two of you. "Would it be okay if I join you for lunch?" His eyes visibly widen at your request.

"I just really like the atmosphere in the garden, but I don't want to interrupt you."

He seems to contemplate it for a moment, emerald eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed. But when he opens his eyes again, there's a certain softness to them.

"Hmph. Do whatever you want." he says, turning around to leave, his tag swishing back and forth once again.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[ilaytrapsfortroubadours]

😴sleepy hug / falling asleep together for Lokius !

(I have no idea where in the series this takes place, just don't worry about it 🥲💕)

***

Loki and Mobius unceremoniously strolled back to their quarters, nary exchanging a word or even a glance.

They approached the elevator, Mobius hitting the button and waiting by Loki's side, hearing the subtle tick, tick, tick of the elevator approaching their floor.

It wasn't until after they entered the elevator that Loki shot Mobius a glance, to which the analyst returned the glance with a tired smile.

"We did good today," Loki said, trying to get Mobius to catch his eye.

"Yeah," Mobius said, eyes fixed to the floor.

"We did all we could've done."

"I could've done better."

"Mobius—"

"Just—" Mobius turned to Loki, about to snap at him, before taking a deep breath and letting it out. "—Don't. Please. Don't try to comfort me. I—" He sighed, exasperated. "I fucked up, okay? I almost got one of our guys killed, not to mention losing the variant without a trace."

"It wasn't your fault that the expulsion method backfired," Loki said, resting a hand on Mobius's shoulder. "I mean, who the hell could've known that this variant was immune to fire?"

"I could've known. I should've known."

"Mobius—"

"I should've checked his file, this is all my fault—"

"The responsibility of vetting our targets wasn't entirely on you. We had dozens of other agents that glossed over that. It was—" Loki paused, gathering his thoughts. "...An institutional failure, alright? And besides, beforehand, we were caught up in that surprise meeting with Renslayer, so you wouldn't have had time to check, anyway."

The elevator dinged, the doors opening. Mobius exited first, Loki following close behind him as they walked back to the agent's quarters.

"It wasn't your fault, okay?" Loki said, as Mobius fumbled with the keycard to his front door.

The agent nodded, staring into the door blankly for a moment before scanning the card and leading Loki in.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?" Mobius said, shrugging off his jacket.

"I just need to sleep, I think," Loki said, slipping off his shoes and tie, watching Mobius as he did so. "Are you okay?"

"I'm— I'm fine. Just need to sleep, like you said." Mobius replied, struggling to keep the tremble out of his hands as he filled a glass with water.

Loki didn't believe Mobius's answer for a second, but decided not to pry.

"I'm going to go take a shower," He said.

"Okay," Mobius replied, absentmindedly.

...

Loki emerged from the bathroom, towel drying his curls when he saw Mobius. He was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, struggling to stifle his sobs.

Loki's heart sank. His first instinct was to rush over and comfort his friend, though he knew that the second Mobius knew Loki saw him, he would clear his throat and act like everything was fine.

Instead, he set the towel down on the floor and walked over to Mobius slowly, hoping that the agent didn't hear him, as that would immediately make Mobius panic and shut down.

Mobius only lifted his head as he felt the couch beside him dip, looking up to see Loki looking at him with a concerned expression.

Damn it.

"Loki, I—"

"Mobius. Don't lie to me. Please."

Mobius was left with his lips slightly parted, mid-dismissal. Loki stared into his eyes, his gaze sharp and determined, almost frightening. Love is a dagger.

"Tell me what's wrong. Please," Loki pleaded.

The agent sighed, resigned.

"I just...I can't shake the feeling that it's all always my fault, you know?" Mobius said, his eyes flickering back down to the floor. "I feel like no matter what I do, it's never gonna be enough, and I just— end up being a failure. Putting everyone at risk. Not accomplishing the one task I was set out to do."

He sighed, rubbing his neck anxiously.

"It makes me think I'm the problem. And I feel like I didn't used to be. I used to be good at this. I used to be sharp, and clever, with an impeccable track record. And now, I just can't stop...messing everything up."

Mobius felt his eyes well up with tears again, to his dismay.

"...I feel like all I ever do is let people down."

It was like a knife to his chest, Loki hearing that from Mobius, who was, in his eyes, the most clever man he'd ever known.

"Mobius. Look at me," Loki said, taking the agent's hands in his. "You are not letting anyone down, and you are not a failure. You're the smartest man in this entire godforsaken place. And I mean that."

Mobius smiled minutely, still struggling to keep Loki's gaze.

"I appreciate it, Lokes. I'm just..." Mobius sighed deeply, his shoulders drooping. "Tired. I'm so tired, Loki."

The agent couldn't keep the tears in his eyes from falling at that. Loki gently placed his hand on Mobius's cheek, wiping a tear away with his thumb. "I know, my dear. But we're here. We're okay. Everyone is okay."

Mobius nodded, his head falling forward in exhaustion.

"Let's get you to bed," Loki said.

...

Loki pulled the covers up over Mobius's shoulders. The god bit his lip, hesitant to leave, but he turned to do so anyway.

"Wait," Mobius murmured.

Loki's heart leapt. He turned back.

"Would you— Would you wanna stay for a bit, maybe?"

Loki smiled. "Sure."

Mobius returned his grin and sat up, patting the spot next to him.

Loki crawled in next to him, feeling uncharacteristically giddy, albeit a bit nervous as well, his heart beating a bit too quickly.

He turned to Mobius, both of them sharing a bit of laughter over the absurdity of the situation.

Loki couldn't remember the last time he'd shared a bed with someone, and was unsure if Mobius ever had.

"Sorry if I'm not the best company, I'm pretty exhausted," Mobius said.

"It's no trouble. I'm quite tired, myself," Loki replied.

"Well. Guess we best get some rest, huh?"

"Agreed."

Mobius turned and switched off the lamp beside him, laying down and positioning himself so he was facing Loki.

"You know, you've been fussing over me all night, I feel obligated to ask—" Mobius said, his tone playful, albeit sincere. "How are you? You good?"

Loki felt the urge to respond as usual, with his typical "Oh, I'm fine," but Mobius had been so honest and vulnerable with him. It was only fair that he did the same, despite his instinctual reluctance.

"I'm, well—" Loki stuttered, "I've been— in an odd place, I suppose?"

"Yeah? How so?" Mobius asked.

"Well, when you found out your tormentor was at fault for your gory and untimely death, it makes one reexamine a lot about themselves," Loki said, trying to keep his tone light and joking, failing to hold back a nervous stutter at the end of his sentence.

"I can imagine," Mobius responded, concerned. "I feel a need to apologize for— well, the whole interrogation deal."

"Oh, please, Mobius, no apology needed," Loki said, dismissive. "You were just doing your job. And I'm fine."

"Are you?" Mobius said, returning the same sharp and prodding gaze Loki had given him earlier.

"...Maybe not," Loki murmured.

"That's okay," Mobius said. "You don't have to be. We can be 'not okay' together. How's that sound?"

Loki nodded, lest the tears in his eyes escape if he uttered a word.

"Hey," Mobius whispered, taking Loki's chilled hand. "It's like you said to me. We're alright. We're safe."

Loki nodded, squeezing his eyes shut at the onslaught of memories and emotions flooding his mind.

"Do you, would it help if I—" Mobius stuttered.

Loki looked up at him, inquisitive despite his distress.

Mobius lifted his other arm minutely, indicating his offer.

Loki nodded, moving to wrap his arms around the agent, his head tucked perfectly underneath Mobius's chin. He breathed in deeply, trying to replace the images in his mind with the agent's comforting scent.

Mobius smiled as he felt a sense of love and adoration flood through him, warm and syrupy sweet like honey. He wrapped his arms securely around the god.

"Thank you," Loki muttered, exhausted.

"Thank you," Mobius replied. "We're in this together, alright?"

Loki nodded, finding one of Mobius's hands and lacing his fingers with the agent's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We are."

Mobius returned the affirmation, squeezing Loki's hand as he let his eyes fall closed.

"Sorry if I get your pillowcase wet," Loki said, indicating his still-wet hair.

Mobius chuckled. "Small price to pay."

[lotusmi]

hii! I wanted to share a sucess story !! I thought abt sharing this for a while now because it changed my whole life.

TW! suicidal thoughts

I’m lia, 16 and diagnosed with last stage brain cancer. I got diagnosed in september 2022. The doctors told me theres nothing they can do cause my brain already started to shut down (problems with speaking, not being able to move some parts of my body). Therapy’s didnt work and they werent able to do a surgery because the chance I’d pass was too high. They basically just kept me alive in the hospital. I cried a lot the last months and thought that it would be better if i go by myself if you know what I mean.

In january I discovered the LOA and I was like what no way but i tried it out and simply said IT WORKED.

I woke up a few weeks ago and were able to move my body like its supposed to be and i were able to speak properly. I screamed and my mum woke up cause of the way i screamed😭(she had a bed next to me in hospital cause she didnt want to leave me)

When the doctor came in he asked whats wrong and i explained everything, He checked me and he was shocked cause the tumor got smaler and stopped affecting parts of my brain. He literally didnt spoke for minutes cause it was 100% safe i’d die in the next weeks. The last few days i had daily check ups and the tumor is gone. FULLY GONE.

I’m so happy i cant even describe how i feel. Its still too much for me to comprehend. I’m able to go out with friends without worrying abt anything & more.

If you read till here, thank you. Dont give up. LOA IS REAL!!

Suuuuuccessss storyyyyy 😭omg angel I am about to cryy!! 💕💗😭

Hi Lia! I don't even know where to start. I am with no words. I can't even express how much I am happy and pround of you. How every word you said made me feel exactly how you felt, I am so much happy for you. This is so beautiful, you are of course an amazing person, and I am sure you deserve all the best in this world and in all other realities. Again, I am so pround of you. I am so pround that you made it, I am so pround of how you was strong. I am so happy you shared this wonderful story with me. I hope you keep sending me asks of all the success I know your life will made of! I am sure you will live all your biggest dreams!

Congrats, my angel! 💕🎀💐🌷 🌼 🌻 🌼 🌻

ps: your name is so pretty! 💌

[pablitogavii]

Hey i really appreciate and love your writing 💕 it's so realistic an your hurt/comfort and fluff stories always turn my day better and it's all just so adorable. Thank you for your writing

Can I please request a gavi x reader fluff where she is a talkative person (which Pablo thinks is just adorable and loves her) but her "friends" always tease her about it and never let her finish and make her third wheel with them. One day, Pablo comes back from training and finds her sad and quiet and asks her what's up and she asks him whether he thinks that she's annoying which he absolutely denies and asks her why she would say that and she finally confesses about her toxic friends and he comforts her. Thank you once again and love you ❤️

I relate so much to this!! I can talk so much about stuff I am passionate about that I fear others would be annoyed with me :((

Chatty

"And I visited this museum when I traveled to Paris with Pablo and the art there is just beyond this world..like the expression and the way the colors match on top of the oily portraits..so breathtaking" you were showing photos to your friends from your recent travels really feeling passionate about art but none of them seemed to care.

"Yeah..yeah..we get it! Your boyfriend is rich and is paying for your travels to see some old paintings" one of them said rolling her eyes and soon afterwards everyone else joined.

"I mean who even cares about some old paintings that all look the same anyways!?" she added and you gulped turning of your phone feeling sad that they spoke like that about something you cared so much about.

"And you've been talking about it for the past hour! Can't you just shut up already!" and with that you grabbed your bag and walked out of the cafe catching a taxi that drove you back home.

Pablo was in training and you just curled up on the couch turning on some TV but weren't really paying attention to what's on the screen. You started to wonder if Pablo thought the same as your friend..were you talking too much? Were you annoying him too?

When he came home, he found you on that same couch just starting in one spot with a frown on your face and he sat besides you immediately asking what is wrong.

"Nada.." you said and the fact that you were not using many words like always to explain details made him curious as to who got you this sad. He was even a little angry that someone would hurt his precious girl like this.

"I know you better than that preciosa..you can tell your Pablito everything, alright?" he took your hand and you sighed looking into those kind brown eyes giving him a weak smile. He was so gentle with you that it warmed your heart.

"Maybe that's the problem.." you say and now he furrowed his eyebrows in complete confusion as to what you mean with that.

"Am I talking too much Pablo?? Am I annoying you??" you ask and Pablo was taken back staying silent for a moment wondering why would you ever think something like that.

"You're not saying no...I knew it!" you said about to move away but he pulls you back holding your face and making you look at him.

"I couldn't believe you asked me something like that princesa..that's why I was quiet..I love hearing you talk..especially about art because your eyes sparkle and you get all excited..and then you smile which drives me loco" Pablo said and a tear escaped your lip and he dried it pulling you closer and kissing your lips lovingly.

"Who told you that you talking is annoying princesa?? Huh?" Pablo said after pulling away and you sighed telling him what happened with your "friends" this morning.

"They are cabrónes princesa! Jealous and simple minded. Taking you to that museum and seeing that bright smile was enough for me to fall in love with art the same way I fell for you..you made me want to like it" he said moving a strand on your hair behind your ear and you smiled remembering how fun it was when you explained history of each painting to Pablo who listened intensively.

"I love you so much Pablito.." you moved closer sniffing a little and resting your head onto his shoulder as he smiled kissing the top of your head pulling you even closer and you cuddled on the couch together.

"Can you tell me that story about the painting we saw in Paris again..the love story?" Pablo asked and you blushed nodding your head and starting to tell him the supposed love story between the artist and model who was on the painting you saw and Pablo liked the most.

"And she loved him because he would talk to her while painting..he didn't only care about her looks" you finished blushing when you realized why Pablo asked you to tell this story again.

"Precioso amor.." you say and he chuckled nodding his head and leaning in to kiss you lovingly while nodding his head.

[slayfics]

//Hi, nee-san~ Can I request a Mui X Reader where Mui gets angry at reader for overworking from studying— literally staying up all night or barely getting sleep at all.

Totally not me looking for some comfort due to my situation.

Thank you, please take your time with it! 💕💙

Muichiro gets upset when you don’t take care of yourself.

Modern AU

Your eyes blurred as you tried to continue reading your study materials. The letters seemed to start to dance around on the paper as your eyes followed them in a trance desperately trying to make sense of them.

Chasing after the letters with your eyes slowly they began to fade until there was nothing on the paper at all.

THUD-

"Ow!" You exclaimed, picking your head up off the desk. A piece of paper stuck to your forehead gently fell and floated back down to the desk. Crap, you just knocked out... literally.

Muichiro swiftly charged into the room to see what the loud sound was. He was met with the sight of you rubbing your forehead.

"Are you ok?!" He exclaimed.

"Yeah I'm fine, just fell asleep and hit my head on the desk I guess," You laughed trying to cover up your embarrassment.

"Are you fucking serious?" He said furry rising in his eyes.

You winced at Muichiro's words. "Yeah, I've just been up all night studying," you tried to explain.

"You were up all last night studying too," He said with the same furious expression. "How have you still not learned how to take care of yourself?!"

Your eyes became misty at his words. It wasn't your fault you had so much material to cover. Your studies were extremely taxing this time around, and the lack of sleep was pushing your emotions to their breaking point.

Seeing your defeated demeanor Muichiro let out a sigh, "I'll be right back," he said and left the room, the fury in his eyes fading away.

You rubbed your eyes trying to banish the forming tears away. You just wanted to sleep so badly, but you couldn't let yourself fall behind on your studies.

Muichiro came back into the room with a cloth and a bag of ice. He wrapped the bag of ice in the cloth and placed it on your forehead.

"You don't want that swell up do you," He said giggling slightly trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't think I hit my head that hard," You protested.

"I heard it from three rooms away with the door closed and the TV on. You hit it pretty hard," He stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh..." was all you could muster to say for yourself.

Sitting across from you Muichiro moved closer to rest his elbow on the desk as he held the ice pack to your head.

"I know how much your studies mean to you, believe me, I do. But, could you stop for a second to think about how much you mean to me," He said, fixing his gaze on you intently.

"What?" You asked almost breathless by his sudden intensity.

"It kills me to see you beating yourself up so much over this. Your health should come first. You need to eat, sleep, and self-care properly before your brain can absorb any new information," He replied.

"I don't have that luxury Muichiro. My studies don't allow for that much time, things have to be cut out, and recently that's been sleeping. It means so much to me that you're concerned for me, but can't you see this is about my future," You explained.

"This is about my future too," He retorted.

"What are you talking about?" You weren't sure if it was because of the delirium from lack of sleep but you had no idea what Muichiro was saying.

"You. You're my future you know. You mean everything to me and I want to make sure you're happy and healthy," He spoke earnestly.

You felt your cheeks blush at his words. You had been dating Muichiro for a while now but you had no idea his feelings for you ran so deeply.

"Do you understand now?" He asked, his eyes full of a kindness that you wanted so badly to get lost in.

You nodded feebly feeling a lump in your throat from his affection.

"Good, now please for me- let's get some rest. I'll tuck you in, make sure you're comfortable, and I promise to wake you up on time for your classes," He pleaded.

Muichiro tossed the ice pack into the trash and laid the washcloth out to dry. Making his way over to your shared bed he pulled down the covers and motioned for you to come in. You followed him climbing into the bed feeling your muscles want to collapse almost instantly.

You had forgotten how soft your bed was and you couldn't remember the last time you came to sleep next to Muichiro due to the all-nighters you had been pulling.

Muichiro wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, "I missed holding you close to me," he whispered.

Thank you Skye! It was lovely to finally get a request from you! I hope this fic provides you comfort during your studies. Most of all I hope you listen to Mui and get some damn sleep! Take care of yourself please or tsundere Slay is gonna smack ya~

Tags~

@aeolia18 @yandere-kou @sakurasunkiss @hashiroses @plvuii @snowmist-hashira

[piko-power]

idk what to post so here's me getting excited over an animated hedgehog lol

Sonic the Hedgehog 3 so far is VISUALLY STUNNING. The lighting, the animation and SFX, just, BEAUTIFUL ON SO MANY LEVELS.

Everything about the trailer blew my mind, but I will do a post about my thoughts and theories on it later on. For now I wanna talk about the Blueberry Muffin himself.

Sonic in the movie looked GREAT. He got a small upgrade compared to how he looked in both Movie 1 and 2. (Especially Movie 1)

But he's still the goofy, heroic dork he is, and I'm SUPER EXCITED to see my boy again!! 💕

I don't know what else to post, so I'm just gonna gush over some of my favorite (which I'll admit, are almost every shot of Sonic in the trailer. Just wanna admit that, right now XD) shots of the Blue Devil.

I will do another version of this but with Shadow, but that'll be in the future. Shadow looks INSANE in the movie, so of COURSE I will lose my mind over his design once the post comes out lol

But right out of the gate, we got a really cool shot of Sonic running through a log, I think? Absolutely love the blue glow emitting the entire dark interior. And it gave Sonic a nice glow, too.

I love how determined he looks here, too. There were some scenes in the trailer where it looked like Sonic, Tails and Knuckles were racing each other. I think it's really adorable that the Wachowski Bros. spend time together by just racing through the woods outside of their own house.

This shot looks like Sonic might be in the lead.

Tom: "It hasn't always been easy, but it can't change who you are *points to Sonic's heart* in here."

Sonic: "Yeah. In my lungs."

The pure innocence from this hedgehog is killing me 😭

This is probably after the race? Idk when this is taking place, after all, all we got is a trailer. But I'm just spitballing here, but this is definitely another scene in the series where Tom gives Sonic some profound words for him to remember by.

But anyways, I love this shot of Sonic. You can already tell there is some slight differences with how he looked in the first film and the second film, which I kind of already freaked out over on this post here lol.

His expression complete with his line is just the perfect mixture for this shot. It describes Sonic to me. He's got a heart of gold, but at times he can be just a little confuse but still got the spirit.

He's just a child 😭

Here we got Sonic casually breaking the laws of physics just to grind on a tree branch, because he's just that cool.

Now this shot here? PROBABLY ONE OF MY FAVORITES.

Sonic is up in the air, twirling around with a huge smile on his face 🥺

He is having the TIME of his life. He is just so happy AAAAAAAAA-

Also, I love that Sonic's body, mainly his chest, has become a bit more puffy (since the Knuckles show anyway), but he still has that bean shape in certain shots lmao (Got a bit of Classic Sonic in there since day one XDDD)

I mean, come on. Look at his cheeks and tell me he don't have any baby fat anymore? He's still small! He's still squishy!! 🥺

Anyways badass Blueberry. EPIC callback to the beginning of SA2, only this time Tails and Knuckles are along for the ride. (also love Tails' expression as he jumps off the helicopter.)

I love this particular shot a lot for some reason XD

Knuckles really wants to fight Shadow despite Sonic not wanting to. He wanted to handle Shadow just by talking things out (clearly he has not met the dude) and Knuckles is over here ready to throw hands.

Sonic looks very annoyed here 🤣

I'm just so happy to see Sonic and Knuckles together on screen again after the Knuckles show. I fell in love with their dynamic ever since. Sonic and Tails' bond is truly special to me, but it's Sonic and Knuckles' bond that means SO MUCH to me, and I SERIOUSLY need to write more about these dorks.

This is the face of a hedgehog who was NOT prepared for the horrors that is Shadow the Hedgehog and maybe bisexuality. XD

Pissed off Blueberry.

Sonic is one of those characters where they rarely get upset or angry, but when they, it's badass and genuinely terrifying. I am NOT ready to see Sonic get so upset in this movie.

I know shit is about to go down in this movie, and I know Sonic is probably gonna go feral when it does. And it won't be pretty.

He is NOT happy at all. But at least here he looks kind of pouty.

It's kind of funny XD

"Here. Take my stupid strand of magic hair, just make sure you clean it when you're done. >:("

"What did you do?"

Yeah, no, he's furious. It's actually scary seeing Sonic like this. I have seen pictures of Sonic in rage mode in the comics and yeah, you can say that Sonic's about to reach his limit, if you know what I'm saying. (btw best moment in the Archie comics hands down)

Okay, one last image, I PROMISE-

THIS ONE, is my favorite out of all of them. Everything about this shot is just... I... don't even know how to explain how much I love this.

The lighting. The intensity of this whole scene. Sonic's anger. His powers going up to 100.

Yeah, this movie is gonna drive a little crazy. :)

Of course I'm just getting started on my Movie 3 hype rambles lol. Don't want this post to be too long or annoying-

I'm just so happy to see my comfort character back in action. I'm so happy that EVERYBODY'S back! I CAN'T WAIT DUDE!!!

[joelscruff]

safety (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader)

just a bit of an origin story for my boyfriend's dad!joel relationship. you can read other installments of this fic here. this one isn't smutty but i hope you enjoy 💕 and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip. summary: you find yourself falling for your boyfriend's father. rating: 18+ (mdni) warnings: age difference, cheating, daddy issues, daddy kink, lap sitting, pet names (use of babygirl) word count: 2.2k

the first time your boyfriend's father kisses you, it's because you ask him to.

you've always looked at him a bit differently, always found yourself taking quick peeks out of the corner of your eye whenever he's in the room, given him shy smiles and giggled at all his jokes (most of which were actually funny, believe it or not). the first time you'd met him you'd gone to shake his hand, expecting a firm shake and a quick nod like your own father, but he'd surprised you completely when he'd wrapped you up in his arms, given you a bear hug and softly told you he was so happy to meet you.

your boyfriend always rolls his eyes at his father's affection, his jokes, his quirks. it's been almost disappointing in a way, to see the way his father behaves in comparison to his son. your boyfriend constantly seems to cultivate a cold exterior - and interior, if you're being honest with yourself - while his father radiates warmth and welcomeness, a safeness you've never seen in your own father. you wonder how your boyfriend is able to take such advantage of his father's kindness, that safety that so many people can only crave and never experience.

the two of you fight a lot, but this is normal for you. every relationship you've had - whether familial or romantic - has involved some form of conflict. it's just the way things are; you've come to accept that. the only difference is that before this you never had a third party standing on the outside, witnessing it, worrying about it.

"are you okay?"

the first time he catches you crying you feel embarrassed; until this point you've put on a good front, been your sweet and passive self around him. now he sees a different side of you, the side everyone else in your life has seen dozens of times. the side that hurts, feels pain, suffers.

you nod, leaning against the banister of the front patio and biting your lip, "yeah, i'm fine," your voice cracks and breaks - you're not fine, your boyfriend just berated you for messing up his concentration during one of his stupid games, called you a waste of space. but you're not going to tell his father that.

"you don't look fine," he murmurs, taking a step toward you, "something happen?"

you shake your head, "no really, i'm okay, mr. miller."

"joel," he corrects you softly with a gentle smile, and you try to smile back.

"joel," you repeat, "sorry."

"don't be sorry," he says tenderly, taking another step toward you and carefully placing a hand on your shoulder, "i want you to know...if you ever need to talk to somebody, i'm here. i'll always listen, alright?"

you're not sure what to say; no one has ever given you an offer like that before. it's confusing and surreal. your brow furrows but you slowly nod, "okay."

he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze and then goes back inside the house, leaving you standing there alone. the ghost of his touch weighs heavily for the rest of the evening, his words echoing in your mind. he can't really mean that, can he?

the next time he sees you cry it's only about a week after the first time, and this time he knows what's wrong. you can see it in his expression, the quiet anger burning behind his glasses for his own son.

"i won't defend him," he tells you softly, sitting next to you on the couch in the living room while your boyfriend yells something incoherent down the hall, "you can talk to me."

you find yourself confiding in him briefly, only briefly. you don't go into much detail, just tell him you hate being made to feel worthless, that it's something you've dealt with for a long time. he touches your shoulder again, squeezes it calmingly, reassuringly. you look into his eyes and feel yourself falling before you can even register it. he cares about you.

you think about him a lot. during the day, nights, when you're in bed and can't sleep and just want somebody to hold you. you imagine his arms wrapped around you, remember that first time you met when he'd hugged you so tight and welcomed you so warmly. you want him to hold you like that again, touch you, love you. you touch yourself and pretend it's his fingers, you bury your face in your pillow as you come and pretend it's his chest.

you think of him when you have sex with your boyfriend. you'd feel bad, but you've started to become numb with the way he treats you, uses you. you close your eyes and curl your hand in his hair and pretend it's his father on top of you, his father inside you, his father kissing your neck.

every week your boyfriend competes in ridiculously boring online competitions; you show up at his house only for the promise of seeing joel, talking to him, sharing a quick moment in the kitchen or living room with him. you sit on your boyfriend's bed and watch from afar as he bangs on the keyboard and shouts aggressive things into his microphone, sounding like a whiny and petulant child. you wonder what you even see in him anymore, what you even saw in him to begin with. you should end it, you know you should. but then how would you see his dad?

he berates you again for messing up his concentration, tells you to leave for a bit and to "stop being so annoying". you don't even protest, just climb off his bed and leave the room, slamming the door louder than necessary behind you.

joel spends a lot of time in his office; he's the head of a contracting company, always making plans, doing paperwork, making phone calls. he has his shit together, another thing you feel drawn to. he's the only person in your life who seems to know exactly what to do in any given situation, knows who he is and where he's going.

you find yourself climbing the stairs and knocking softly on his office door. "come in," he calls from inside, and you slowly push it open.

he looks up from his desk, scattered with paper and blueprints. his brow furrows when he sees it's you, "hey, sweetheart, you alright?"

you close the door behind you and then stand there for a few seconds just staring at him; he's got on a cozy looking grey sweater, knitted and warm. his jeans are dark and his socks are mismatched, a quirk you love. he looks perfectly disheveled in his joel miller sort of way, hair thick and curly, beard scruffy and soft. his glasses accentuate the kindness of his eyes, the tenderness as he looks at you. he's like a comforting beam of light, a safe haven.

"can you hold me?" you ask softly, barely a whisper. it's out before you even know you're saying it, and then you're biting down hard on your lip and feeling tears prick in your eyes.

he seems surprised but only for a moment, then he makes his way toward you in two long strides and wraps his arms around you, pulling you in and holding you close. you melt into his embrace, burying your head in his warm sweater and almost collapsing into his arms, feeling yourself begin to cry steadily. you should feel embarrassed but you're too overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being held by him again, feeling him so close, inhaling the comforting scent of him.

you feel him press a soft kiss to the top of your head, a gesture of comfort and safety, nothing more, "you're okay," he murmurs into your hair, "i've got you."

he holds you like that for a long time and makes no move to let go, just lets you stand there and take what you desperately need from him. your cries die down eventually until you're sniffling lightly into the thick fabric of his sweater and just breathing him in. his hands trail up and down your back comfortingly, tracing patterns and words, almost like a secret language.

"i feel safe with you," you mumble against his chest, but the words are muffled and hard to make out.

"hm?"

you pull back a bit to peer up at him with tear-filled eyes, cheeks pink and puffy, "i feel safe with you," you repeat, voice shaky but much more relaxed, calm.

he smiles softly, peering down at you with that familiar tenderness, "i'm glad," he murmurs, and you swear you catch his eyes trail down to your lips for a brief moment, "i want you to feel safe with me."

"can you kiss me?" you whisper, voice breaking on the last word, not caring that this could make or break the quiet companionship you've formed with him, "please."

his brow furrows again but he doesn't pull away, lips parting a bit in surprise, "sweetheart, i'm not sure that's-"

"please," you repeat, voice raw and desperate, "it's all i think about."

his expression relaxes then, the tenderness returning. with a resigned look you watch as he leans his face down toward you; you close your eyes and allow him to press his lips gently against yours, soft and sweet. he's so gentle, so warm, so safe. your arms wrap tighter around him as you kiss him back, a soft whimper falling from the back of your throat. it's perfect. he's perfect.

when he pulls away he leaves his forehead pressed against yours, and when you open your eyes your heart stutters when you see his face so close, lips wet from your saliva and eyes dark with desire.

"that what you needed?" he murmurs softly, nose brushing against yours.

you nod and kiss him again, humming quietly against him when he pulls you in closer and palms your back firmly, holding you close. you're not sure how it happens but you both end up on the small couch in the corner of his office, him sitting back against the cushions while you seat yourself in his lap, a leg on either side of his thighs. his hands travel inside your shirt, exploring the soft expanse of your back as you whimper again into his mouth and revel in the feeling of being touched by someone so different.

"what else do you need?" he breathes, voice deep and husky as his hands travel from your back to your face, cradling it in his palms, "i'll give it to you, sweetheart, anything you ask. just tell me."

you could say a multitude of things; you could tell him to kiss you again, touch you, fuck you, the list goes on. and you want him to do all of that, but the one thing on your mind is what inevitably slips past your lips.

"i just want you to hold me," you whisper, and you don't care if you sound pathetic, "please."

he looks at you with a great deal of pain in his eyes, an empathetic gaze you've seen numerous times. he thumbs your cheeks, wipes away the tears there and slowly nods.

"okay, babygirl," he murmurs, "i'll hold you."

you sit in his lap for the next hour. it's quiet and peaceful and perfect; he rubs your back while you bury your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in and letting his presence completely invade your senses. you fall asleep briefly, but when you wake up you're happy to find that you're still in his lap, still being held. he makes absolutely no moves to remove you from him, to pull away or leave the room. he just holds you.

"thank you," you whisper finally; it's time to leave, you know this. your boyfriend will be looking for you soon, wondering where you went and why you didn't come back. you pull your face up from joel's neck and look down at him with tenderness, love.

"any time," he murmurs with a gentle smile, then leans forward a bit to press a tiny kiss to the tip of your nose, "i mean it, sweetheart. any time you're upset, any time you need to be held...you come to me, okay?"

you nod, biting down on your lip to keep the tears at bay, "no one's ever held me like this before," you whisper, "not even my own father."

his brows scrunch together and he touches your arms, squeezing them carefully in his hands, "i'm sorry, babygirl," he breathes, "you don't deserve that," his eyes capture yours in an intimate gaze, "you deserve the world."

the word is there, fighting to be spoken behind your lips. but you don't say it. you don't want to make him uncomfortable, don't want to ruin something that's only just started. but you feel it there, the desire to call him what you've been wanting to call him since the day you met. but that's a conversation for another day.

instead of words, you settle for a kiss. you lean down and touch your mouth to his, feel the gentle scratch of his scruff against your chin as you open a bit wider to allow his tongue to prod inside, just for a moment. he tastes like comfort, feels like safety.

daddy.

[vernons-girl]

Hey, could I request a Vernon Drabble where he asks the gender neutral reader to move in with him? Just something super fluffy and stuff :)

Thank you💕

a home in us | chwe vernon

fluff,w.c:0.6k

a/n: this is much longer than a drabble is supposed to be???? i'm sorry i got carried away-

Vernon sat on his slightly worn out couch, clammy hands rubbing against the rough material of his pants and his heart pounding with nervous excitement as he awaited your arrival. He looked around his apartment, imagining how much brighter it would be with you by his side every day. It was time to take the leap, but Vernon wanted this moment to be as special as you were to him, so little did you know, he had prepared a little something for you.

As you arrived at Vernon's apartment, you went in, knowing he had left the door opened for you just like everytime you were coming over. Once you made it to the living room, you found Vernon in his favorite classic jeans and t-shirt combo and a sheepish grin apparent on his lips.

"Hey there, Y/N! Welcome to my humble abode!" he said dramatically upon seeing you step inside the room.

You chuckled at Vernon's attempt at decorating, he had banners hanging haphazardly from different side of the rooms and blankets and cushions arranged in a way that screamed 'burglary aftermath'.

"What on earth have you been up to, Vernon?" you questioned, smiling widely.

Vernon shrugged, his grin widening as he gestured to the chaos around you two. "Just trying to spruce the place up a bit. You know, make it more 'us'."

Your heart swelled at his words, realizing just how much you adored this man and his unique, yet special way of expressing love. "Well, you've certainly succeeded on that part," you said, laughing.

Vernon took a deep breath, nerves fluttering in his stomach as he took your hands in his. "Y/N, there's something I've been wanting to ask you. Something that's been on my mind for a while now."

Your gaze softened, your heart almost skipping a beat as you looked up from your joined hands into Vernon's eyes. "What is it Vern?"

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, his eyes squeezing shut as if it would help him focus. With his voice filled with a sudden determination, he said :

"I love you, Y/N. I love every messy, chaotic part of you. But also all the neat and ever so perfect parts don't get me wrong!" he rambled cutely, "And I can't imagine my life without you in it. So, what do you say we take this a step further and become roommates?"

You looked at him with wide eyes, "Roomates?" you inquired teasingly.

"I mean.. would you move in with me? As my girlfriend, not a roomate." he rectified, his face red as he looked down at the floor, awaiting your answer.

It was touching really, the lengths to which he went to organize all of this, usually, Vernon was a man of a few actions, words were more his things, so this was ever more so endearing. You couldn't help but feel moved about the fact that he was ready to welcome you in his personal space. The physical one, of course, because not only were you already part of each other's lives but from that point on you would be a part of each other's routine and days, and you couldn't be happier than at this very moment. You threw your arms around him, holding him close, the tip of your noses touching as you whispered against his lips : "Yes, Vernon. I'll move in with you. A thousand times yes."

He leaned forward and kissed you passionately, happy that you accepted to join him in this adventure of building a home together.

And in that moment, amidst the laughter and the love, Vernon and you knew that you had found your home in each other.

[minisugakoobies]

ME AND NAMJOON AND HIM PINNING ME AGAINST THE WALL PLS 👀👀👀🙈

I combined these requests because they worked so perfectly together! Hope y'all don't mind 💕

Title: A Dangerous Game Pairing: Royal Advisor!Namjoon x Queen!Reader Genre: smut, forbidden romance, Royalty!AU Rating: M(18+) Warnings: groping, making out, a little light fingering, infidelity (reader has been forced into marriage with a horrible King)

"Quiet, love, or they'll hear you."

A shudder rolls through you as Namjoon whispers in your ear. He's right, of course. If you're any louder, the guards standing outside your chambers will hear and come investigate. They'll barge right through that door, swords swinging, not knowing that the tiny whimpers falling from your lips are cries of pleasure, not pain.

They won't care, either, if you're caught with the king's most trusted advisor's hands beneath your gown. It's a dangerous game the two of you are playing right now. And Namjoon appears to be winning, given the way he smirks at you while his dancing hands caress your breasts, thumbs flicking over your pert nipples.

"That's better," he sighs in relief when you fall silent. "Now, my Queen, tell me what you want."

What you want is for him to tear the nightgown from your body, throw you on your bed, and have his unholy way with you. That's not just what you want, it's what you need. But a lifetime of holding your tongue and doing as you're told, not as you please, makes it difficult to voice these desires.

"I - I want…" you begin, but falter when his palm skims over the swell of your bare belly. It's so wrong, the way he's touching you as if he has any right, any claim to your body. You belong to the King, that miserable old wretch who keeps you locked away in this room day and night, only ever allowing you to leave to perform your royal duties.

Fuck the King, a quiet voice in your mind hisses.

"Come, love, no need to be shy," Namjoon purrs. You love the way he looks at you. While the King views you as a duty to be done, no matter how much he repels you, Namjoon sees you as a person - and one to be treasured, at that. He's told you often enough that your presence in this palace and this realm is a gift - and now, as he smiles at you, you know he means it.

He steps closer, backing you towards the wall, trapping you against it. He dares to lower his lips to your bare neck, hot kisses blazing against your cold skin. Your room is always chilly this time of morning, but you don't care, basking in the heat of Namjoon's strong body as he leans into you.

"Do you wish to hear what I want?" he asks, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles, one by one. Relieved, you nod. "I want to explore your body… if you'll let me."

Despite your firmly pressed lips, another whine escapes you. Swiftly, he kisses you, hastily swallowing your noises. You fall into him, eyes closing, lost in the sensation of his wet tongue as it glides along yours. His left hand is still drifting lower, lower….

With a gasp, you break the kiss and glance down, watching as his hand disappears between your legs. He traces a finger through your sodden folds, back and forth, and you can't stop your hips from canting forward, seeking more of his touch.

"It appears that you want this too, my Queen. But I need to hear you say it." You're so distracted by his left hand that you don't even notice the right one is gripping your chin until he tips your head, forcing you to meet his gaze. His dragon eyes smolder as he licks his lips. "Words, love. I need to hear you say the words."

"T-take me. Namjoon." His expression darkens. It ignites a fire within you. "Now."

"As my Queen demands."

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© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.