#if only i had known the package he'd be coming with

[joelscruff]

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

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

It's crazy how one weekend can change everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?"

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe your mother can solve this problem for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you do?"

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

"Did you go to your lesson on Saturday?"

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

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

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

"So have you? Been making progress?"

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

"Which ones are you learning?"

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For what?"

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

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

Your stomach twists uncomfortably.

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

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

"Just.... bein' open."

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

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

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

Oh. You didn't know that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're looking at his daughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But you did."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's fuckin' crazy about you.

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

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

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

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

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

"Need it deep inside, huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shiver, "Why didn't you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?"

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

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

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

The anxiety settles, and you believe him.

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His expression falters, "Why, baby?"

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

"I like driving, it's peaceful."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels so fucking good to have Joel Miller.

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

buying lingerie, what is this?? help!!

Of course, Tasha is the first to reply:

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

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

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

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

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

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

why is being sexy so awkward and expensive?

welcome to my life sister

158 DOLLARS FOR 3 SCRAPS OF MATERIAL

that's it, let it all out

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, cool."

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

"Is it that obvious?"

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles, "What were you expectin'?"

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

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

"Did you remind her?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle, "Yeah, probably not."

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

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

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

"Tangled Up in Blue, Bob Dylan."

"I knew it was Bob Dylan."

"Good ear. You play?"

"Um, not really."

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Need your pussy touched, baby?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

Hold on...

Angel

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

You wince, "Oh. Right."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

This is too much, you want to say.

How much did you spend? you want to ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

He does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shiver at the thought.

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

Are you in Dallas yet?

Let me know when you arrive.

What hotel are you staying at?

Text me back now.

Where are you?

Answer the phone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You read the message again, and then again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's a beat of silence, then -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But it -"

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

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

"What d'you mean?"

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

"Is that my crucifix?" you ask quietly.

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you.

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

But you already know that it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod quickly, expression hazy, "Yes."

"How wet?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he says slow - he means slow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hurts?" he asks softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You close your eyes, breathe him in.

I love you.

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

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

Prompt: "Any time away from you is far too long."

Alastor x Reader (Queer-Platonic)

No matter how much Alastor tried to persuade you, you refused to quit your job to take up a position at the hotel. Under the terms of your contract, you knew he had the power to force you to do as he asked, but he had yet to. You weren't sure if it was because he was biding his time or if he simply didn't want to, but you weren't going to ask.

You worked as a secretary for a small-time porn studio, your work mostly consisting of doing paperwork and writing spreadsheets. It wasn't much different than what you did when you were alive, which was why you stuck with the position for so long. Plus, it was a lot better than other jobs in Pride, if you excluded the fact that Valentino was always trying to take the studio over.

Very rarely did the studio ever ask you to do anything more than your job description. However, there was one time you were asked to make a trip outside of Pentagram City to pick up a lost package. No one else was available, and you'd had some free time on your hands. Without much argument, you agreed to get the package. That was the easy part. The hard part was getting Alastor to let you leave Pentagram City.

"Seriously, Al, I'll be fine," you insisted, pulling on a jacket. "It's just a quick drive over to Imp City, it's not that far."

Alastor's smile was becoming forced. "They can get someone else to do it. You don't have to leave."

"I already agreed to it." You buttoned up your jacket and brushed it off. "I promise, you won't even notice I'm missing."

There was a tense silence for a full minute before finally, eyes narrowed, Alastor stiffly conceded. "I'll hold you to that." He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Be safe, darling."

If it had been any other context, Alastor telling you to be safe would've been sweet, but you could tell from his tone and the way he was gritting his teeth that it was a threat. To both you and anyone who tried to hurt you. If you didn't come back safe, he'd never let you leave the city without him again. And if someone hurt you... they would never be seen again.

Fortunately, the package pickup was quick and simple. The only eventful thing that happened was you having to take a small detour to avoid a shootout. The imps who'd held the package were nice, and your boss had stayed late to make sure you and the package were safely returned.

"Just a heads up, I don't know if my partner will ever let me do anything like that again," you warned your boss lightheartedly, chuckling a little. You never told them who exactly your partner was, but it was known throughout the studio that they were possessive and dangerous.

"Well, hopefully you won't have to," your boss remarked, obviously annoyed at the situation. "Thank you again, though. Let me know how much gas was so I can add it to your paycheck."

"Of course." After saying a quick goodbye, you ducked out the door to return to the hotel.

Alastor was waiting for you in the lobby. As soon as you walked in, he was at your side, taking your jacket off for you.

"I noticed," his voice was tense. He walked alongside you as you traveled up to your room.

"Figured you would," you shrugged, unsurprised, but grinning lightly anyway. "How long was I out of the city?"

"24 minutes and 17 seconds." Alastor's shadow quickly dashed ahead, opening and holding the door to your room open. You stopped right outside of it, looking up at Al's bright eyes.

"Not too long. Could've been longer." Taking your jacket back, you already started thinking of how nice it'll be to change out of your clothes. You'd put on something different for dinner, but after that, it was t-shirts and sweatpants, no matter what Alastor said.

A hand ran down your back, pulling you into his chest. He inhaled deeply, resting his cheek on the top of your head. "Any time away from you is far too long."

Your smile became soft and content, as you leaned deeper into Alastor's hug. He didn't usually hug you, so you were going to savor it. If he ended up hugging you every time you left the city, you might end up leaving more often...

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #rhys-writes #alastor x reader queerplatonic

[bruciemilf]

Bruce and Harvey Being Dads

Harvey didn't want kids thanks to a little thing called generational trauma. They were basically the equivalent of

Bruce, big doe eyes, " I want a baby"

" no"

"Oh, okay"

" wait but don't ask another guy I'll do it"

No but seriously; Harvey becomes a dad very much accidentally. Two-Face?! Tim Drake from Batman the Animated series would disagree, but the fucker likes children

Bruce silently made it known he, Dick, Jason and Tim were a package deal and Two Face was PREPARED

I LOVE me some baby batkids. 10 year old Dick had to call Harvey to the principal's office, because like hell he'd face Bruce's 2 hour lecture. Harvey stresses that he can't just fight any kid that annoys him.

" He called Bruce a bad word. That word Luthor said to him last time and you knocked him out"

"...You want an ice cream?"

Harvey's a bit of a workaholic. Hey, the reformed life is slippery. Bruce has two main methods of tempting him back home; 1) send him admittedly adorable pics of Jason trying on suits 3 times his size, or use his " Please, Harv?" Voice

The Batkids know three simple truths in life; Harvey can't say no to Bruce. Harvey is catholic. Harvey prays to God and answers to Bruce.

You think Dick has golden child syndrome? Imagine being Duke Thomas. " why can't you be more like Duke?" Is basically the most used phrase in the house

Two-Face prides himself on being the only one with a backbone, only to fold like paper if they pull the " Papi, come on" trick

Bruce frames all of their babies' drawings and Harvey has copies of them all over the DA Office. He most DEFINITELY brags with his family.

Especially portraits. Imagine Harvey being nervous to pose, but Tim pulls those sad kitten eyes on him and gets so happy. " make me pretty, conejito"

" You already are, papa"

Bruce is dad/daddy, Harvey is pa or papa and Two Face is Pops

They have monopoly tournaments that turn VERY competitive on Bruce's side. One time he lost and didn't speak to anybody for 2 days until Harvey had a " talk" with him

If he winces when he sits down, grumbling as Harvey plants a kiss on his cheek along with a morning coffee, extra extra sugar, Alfred simply pretends he doesn't see it.

#there's more but it depends on the age of the batkids!! i think bruce and harvey approach parenting very differently #bruce is big on gentle parenting and harvey seems more like the soft dad with a disciplinarian side #harvey can't quite understand why tim won't let go of his pacifier but bruce explains its kind of his coin #jason needs his space in the library sometimes and that is it. two face brings him fruits #cuddle piles. so many cuddle piles #bruce wayne #harvey dent #bruharvey #bruce x harvey #dick grayson #jason todd #batkids #batfamily #fluff #bruce wayne is a good dad #batfamily fluff #dc comics #writing

[shogunish]

you: "nsfw is very much allowed"

me: 🫡

I bet we all NEED your take on Satoru, Suguru, and Megumi caught reader taking care of herself and moaning their name.

imagine all three walking in on you..👁️👄👁️

.

.

.

contents. aged up! megumi, usage of toys, female masturbation, pillow humping, written with sweet suguru in mind not the deranged version lmao, male masturbation, megumi and suguru listen to reader, mentioned period

g. satoru

↠ satoru was abroad for a mission for several weeks on end, somewhere in china, he said.

↠ of course, he kept in touch with you, calling you whenever he had the time to do so, calling all night long until one of you fell asleep and going on facetime when he went souvenir shopping for you.

↠ phone sex played a huge role as well. satoru who jacked off to your pretty pussy on his phone's display. nudes that you'd send him whenever you missed him a tad bit too much and videos that you'd send each other.

↠ sometimes, satoru even sent you an audio of his moans and groans when he thought about you - a surprise for you to wake up to.

↠ one evening, the door finally creeks open and satoru is relieved to be back home, but also deflates like a balloon when you don't come crashing into his arms like you usually do.

↠ in the end, satoru finds you in your shared bedroom. delicate hands groping your tits, moans spilling from your lips and a little pillow squished between your thighs for you to ride it.

↠ "mhh, toru..~" you moan, imagining you were humping his bulge, his thigh, anything that belonged to satoru. "ngh..ah..yeah, just like that.."

↠ his cock immediately hardens in his pants.

↠ removing the blindfold from his eyes, satoru drinks your lustful state in, how much you missed him that it led to you humping a pillow like you were in heat.

↠ your cunt drags back and forth against the covers, leaving behind damp spots as you leaked all over the fabric. satoru could only imagine how needy your little pussy is.

↠ "mhh, someone missed me, it seems." satoru suddenly appeared right behind you, his large hands fondling your tits and soft lips peppering kisses across your neck.

↠ you jumped, but your surprise quickly dies down when you realize..he's home.

↠ "welcome home, baby.." lolling your head back onto satoru's shoulder, you exchanged kisses, tongues intertwined and hands busy with each other.

↠ that night, all your neighbors knew that satoru had come back home.

.

.

.

g. suguru

↠ as your roommate, suguru had taken it upon himself to go grocery shopping while you were doing the laundry. he was calling with satoru, talking about the latest digimon cards that came out when he heard muffled moans spilling from your lips.

↠ "i've got to hang up." suguru said.

↠ "ohhh, someone's gonna get all down n' dirty with–"

↠ he hangs up on satoru.

↠ suguru stands in front of the door to your bedroom just to make sure that those weren't moans of pain. or so, he liked to tell himself.

↠ "mhh..ah, fuck!" you called out, breathlessly. "right there, suguru! ah..yeah.."

↠ suguru found himself listening in to your moans, his strong hand palming his cock over his boxers. he shouldn't invade your privacy like this and maybe make himself known by making some noise to keep your decency, but fuck..

↠ who would've thought that his pretty roommate fucks herself to the thought of him?

↠ if the buzzing sound is anything to go by, then you're using that cute clit vibrator on yourself (he had accepted the package for you back then).

↠ suguru wondered..

↠ how wet is your pussy? is it leaking or more creamy? would your cunt suck his cock back in and take on his shape? he knows that your little pussy needed to be fucked by a real man who'd treat you right.

↠ suguru can't help himself anymore.

↠ he absolutely has to take a cold shower before he'd barge in on you and pop his cock inside your little hole.

.

.

.

f. megumi

↠ megumi is a sweet, caring boyfriend who never crosses your boundaries and respects them just as much as he loves you.

↠ he knows that your period is about to arrive in the next couple of days and wanted to surprise you by bringing over some snacks, ice-cream and emergency pads as well as a hot water bottle since yours got lost.

↠ "[name], i've brought you some–"

↠ "oh, megumi!~"

↠ megumi immediately knows that the way you call him is odd..he doesn't mean to pry, but in case you're feeling funny or anything, he decides to follow your noise.

↠ he freezes the moment he hears your moans and whines and the squelching of your pussy when you drive your purple dildo in and out, in and out. thighs are shaking, cunt clenches around your fingers while your free hand is playing with your hard nipples.

↠ "shit..feels so good.." your pussy lips spread obscenely around the toy he didn't know you have. "mhh, megumi..wanna cum for you.."

↠ megumi doesn't need to look down to know that his cock jumps in his pants.

↠ undoing his zipper quietly, megumi whips out his cock and begins stroking himself to the sounds you're making and the peeks he takes at your squirming body.

↠ he knows that he's being a pervert by touching himself to your unknowing self, but what is he supposed to do with a leaking and twitching cock?

↠ megumi has to clamp his hand over his mouth when he cums all over his fist while you're making a mess all over that silicone dick, pretending it was..him.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #gojo satoru x you #geto suguru x you #megumi fushiguro x you

[rizsu]

itsy bitsy crush megumi fushiguro.

sum. megumi has a very one-sided crush on you + tries to court you ( failed ). age gap + for the plot he's 18 n ur 23.

the beginning.

perhaps it's nothing but a fleeting crush at the peak age of eighteen or perhaps it's his desire to feel a romantic love. whatever it may be, he knows it isn't going away any time soon.

you're five years older than him — he knows that. he's been nursing this crush ever since he turned seventeen. the chances of meeting you were entirely slim — as slim as the chance of seeing a blue moon. it all began due to being gojo's co-worker. you were tasked with the dreadful mission of delivering a stack of documents from nanami to him. according to sources, gojo secretly dumped his duties on nanami but nothing goes past nanami's radar. when this leads to that and you being the only employee without any work at the moment, naturally the mission flowed into your palms.

to introduce worse matters, the man himself was. not. home. almost as if he sensed that nanami would've got on him, he disappeared. had you known he'd pull this stunt, you wouldn't have stood for eons knocking and waiting for a white-haired-porcelain-blue-eyed idiot.

however, there was someone home. not gojo, but a teenager, megumi fushiguro. being caught off guard by the sudden knocking, megumi glued himself to his position. a carton of milk in one hand and a bowl in another, he pondered the consequences of attending to the knocker.

one: be the gentleman he is and open the door with manners.

two: turn every light off and sneak back into his room.

three: pretend it's just the wind.

four: call gojo and notify him of the new emergency quest.

either way, none of the options would satisfy megumi. he can answer the door but he doesn't feel like talking. if he ignores it he knows the knocks won't stop. calling gojo would either send him a voicemail or make him answer twenty questions about whether or not street-food delicacies would be perfect for dinner. no one wants to do that.

opting for the first option, he sadly covers the milk and drags himself to the door.

"hell— oh," awkwardly peeking his head out, he freezes at the unexpected sight: a woman. you don't look like you're here to deliver a package nor do you look like you're here for gojo specifically. just who are you?

"oh, hi! is gojo here by chance?"

nevermind, he should've known.

"no. don't know where he is," megumi shrugged.

"ah, well, can i leave these here? these are documents he's supposed to go through," emphasising on his duties, you slightly lift your arms to redirect megumi's attention to the documents.

"oh... they look heavy, come in." opening the door wider, megumi makes way for you to walk in but holy shit.

it's not like he can't hold a conversation but he literally can't. he purposefully kept his responses short. had he prolonged his speech he'd stutter through every word. never has megumi ever seen such a beautiful woman.

"i don't have a type." he once claimed but whatever type you fall under seems to be exactly what he's attracted to.

smiling at megumi's gesture, you dump the documents on the coffee table. nice house, you think. the interior's surprisingly aesthetic and clean. you'd expect gojo's dome to be a little... messy!

completing your gawking, you ready yourself to leave, "well, thanks for letting me in. i have work to do though, bye-bye!"

"wait—"

"need something?" you spin back, looking at the younger in confusion.

fuck why did i do that? freaking himself out, megumi composes his mind before apologizing, "sorry, didn't mean it."

you shape your lips into an 'o' shape, smiling at him again before leave for real this time, "stay safe, kid!"

mr. can't mind his business.

now eighteen, seeing you around became a regular routine. whether it was constantly delivering things gojo's purposefully ignoring or just seeing you around, megumi's eyes were always on you.

it's been a year and his feelings did not cease. rather, they got bolder. the tips of his ears easily coloured itself red whenever you were around. he still keeps the conversations short — actually, he keeps his replies short. megumi grew fond of hearing your voice. your voice to him is what a mother's voice is to a baby: soothing.

the attention megumi pays to you versus gojo did not go unnoticed. as much as it's funny witnessing megumi malfunction, gojo feels offended. megumi hardly listens to him but you? you don't even need to say five words. the moment he hears "megumi, can you" he's on his feet ready to move.

while gojo chose to not pester megumi with any questions, the urge is eating him inside-out. ever since megumi suddenly showed interest once your name was mentioned, gojo's curiosity has been more difficult to tame than taming an angry utahime.

it's decided. gojo will ask.

rounding the corner, he tip-toes into megumi's room to his bed, removing his headphones to ask, "do you like my co-worker?"

megumi freezes. was it obvious? are you dating gojo? is he in trouble? do you already have a partner? did something happen? a thousand questions yet no answer.

slowly placing his phone face down, megumi asks, "why?"

"i asked you first, fushiguro."

"and i'm asking you."

"okay but do you like her?"

"why?"

gojo pinches his nose's bridge taking in a deep sigh. dealing with megumi has never been easy. there's only one way to beat the demon-from-toji at his own game and it's lying: "well i was gonna ask her to come over for dinner."

megumi sits up, looking up at gojo with peak interest, "when? what time?"

UREKA! gojo cheers in his mind. megumi's reaction was all that he needed to confirm his thoughts.

"too bad. i was lying but we're having chinese for dinner."

"we..?"

"me and you alone you fucking love-sick kid," gojo shakes his head.

not having any of it, megumi throws a pillow or two at gojo. "get out."

gojo walks out victorious. he can't believe his son isn't a loser like the one before him ( toji ). he won't interfere; this shall be left in your hands to realize and deal with.

cliché elevator moment.

fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. he should've taken the stairs. the one moment he decides to be lazy, he's stuck in an elevator with you. for whatever reason may it be, you seem very talkative today. megumi stuck himself into an awkward corner. it's a safe distance away from you. every time you step closer, he shuffles away. megumi cannot and probably will not indulge himself into physical contact with you. so it looks like it'll be a happy social distancing!

"so what're you doing at the mall alone? shouldn't you be with gojo?" you question him after finishing your monologue about your day.

"i'm an adult now," clarifying — more like reminding you — megumi folds his arms and leans to the side, "but i came for some new clothes."

"ohhhh, what'd you buy?"

megumi points to the pile of bags near his feet, "couple of hoodies and shirts."

you stretch your eyebrows up, giving him a thumbs-up for whatever reason.

as the elevator dings, you ruffle megumi's hair before exiting, "see ya later, megs!"

"megs..?" whispering, he furrows his eyebrows. covering his lower face with a palm, he's in deep thought. the way you easily make him flustered shouldn't be. pondering and deciphering the reasons, it's only until the elevator closes to ascend again is when megumi realizes he missed his get-off. this really cannot be real.

business is business!

like every other night, you came over for dinner. it was originally going to be a dinner with gojo, nanami, utahime and you but... let's just say gojo is unfortunately gojo to two persons in that list.

gojo, for one, did not cook. he never cooks and neither are you going to so he found himself running around buying takeouts. to make his matters worse, delivery isn't available due to the coming storm. in the lonely rain, gojo needs to fight and dominate to get those takeouts. which leaves the best situation in-hand for megumi! alone with his crush? now is the time to confess, convince, and convulse.

"are you cold? i can give you a blanket," megumi asks, totally not offering his own blanket.

"yes please i'd love that. i'm shivering." you take up the offer, watching megumi disappear and reappear with a fluffy royal blue blanket. you wrap the fabric around you, thanking megumi and noting the scent of a familiar cologne.

content with your comfort and his very successful flirting skills, megumi's now left with one thing: confessing. trust, he would not have done this anytime soon but it itches him every night. if he doesn't tell someone he'll go insane.

"hey, can i say something?"

you stop trying to sniff out the cologne's brand, looking up at megumi as you nod, "mhm!"

fiddling with his fingers, he takes in a deep breath before dropping the bomb, "i like you."

one, two, three, five blinks later you process his words. now that he said it, it didn't take long for you to piece the puzzles and realize why he always looked feverish whenever you two were together. he was most likely blushing all the time. not knowing whether to say "thank you" or "aww cute" or maybe even "that's definitely a sentence" you open your mouth before closing again. you must think rationally. one wrong word and you'd crush his little world.

"well, i'm not sure what to say but megs, aren't i a little too old for you..?"

"i'm an adult."

"you're eighteen."

"old enough," megumi shrugged.

now you realize why gojo always complained about battling megumi. he's too good at answering back. cosying yourself into the blanket, you deliver a statement to him, "give me one good reason why i should accept you."

fist in the air, megumi raises his index finger, "one, i don't know" raising his middle finger, he continues, "two, please?"

you sigh, "megumi..."

"look, if not now then can you date me when i'm twenty?" he offered.

oh my god, you think. he's serious about this and unfortunately you're hardly ever serious. you really don't want to burst his bubble. "this is crazy."

tilting his head, megumi waits for your answer.

you straighten your posture, getting ready to spit out a solution, "okay, how about—"

"what's with this deadly atmosphere?" gojo questions, standing still with two hands occupied. holding a confused expression, he raises his eyebrows at megumi standing ominously yet looking as if he's begging for something. you, on the other hand, look as if you're getting ready to slumber. what even happened while i was gone?? gojo thinks.

megumi sighs, dragging a palm over his face. if there's another thing about gojo it's that he finds himself coming at the wrong time when he's never needed. just as you were about to speak he barges in. talk about rude.

"hi gojo," you wave at him before looking back at megumi. poor him. "megumi, i'll tell you later," you whispered to him.

isnt he just so pretty

#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen. #megumi my nicklebutt porcupine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fluff #jjk fluff

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ꒱ 명재현

summary : jaehyun somehow convinced you to take him to the supermarket with you, and it made you realize something

genre : fluff, slight angst (?), myungjae x afab!reader, drabble, established relationship tws : pet names, food, mentions of anxiety, kissing author notes : suchhh a whore for domestic fluff word count : 1.5k

you should've known it was a mistake to take your puppy-like boyfriend to the crowded supermarket with you. you knew he'd be bouncing all over the place, asking if you two could get this and that, but you couldn't say no to him; he had puppy-dog eyes after all.

you don’t even know how he convinced you to let him ride along with you, hands clutched the entire time as the bus bumped and jumped. you vaguely remember between fast pecks in the doorway, him spewing out being an extra pair of hands, but you knew it was just because he couldn’t spend a moment of his free-days without you.

contrary to prior belief, jaehyun stood behind you, mostly because he didn’t like people having the opportunity to get too close, as you eyed the various fruits. you swiveled your head, asking if he wanted anything in particular for tonight — reveling in his calmness and security.

he grinned, “strawberries.”

you nodded absentmindedly, picking up a package of pink berries and placing them in the basket your boyfriend had offered (demanded) to carry for you. he pretended as if he was a spy, protecting you from the enemies, as he called them; aka the other people just trying to grocery shop. and you pretended as if you didn’t notice, falling a little more in love each time he’d grip your side, or hand, protectively.

“jae, baby,” he hummed, coming to his senses, “do you want anything else while we’re right here? i don’t feel like coming back once you’ve realized you want apples or something.”

he pouted, “i know you would, though.” and he wasn’t wrong, the moment he looked at you with sweet eyes (evidently) you give in.

still you fronted the opposite, “no,” you turned your nose up playfully, “i’d make you go get them by yourself.”

he made an offended sound, hand coming to rest on his chest to emphasize his actions. soon, however, they morphed into a giggle, a cute smile plastering his face, which wasn’t even that far away from yours in that exact moment.

you thought it must’ve been gross, the pda, displayed for all the passerby’s to see. but as you looked at jaehyun, who had nothing but hearts in his eyes for you, you felt inclined to stay like that for at least a little while — you didn’t though, backing away slightly to return to what you needed to be doing instead.

“and, do we need more rice? i can’t remember.”

he tisked, “should’ve made a list, y/n. i would’ve made a list.” you knew well that he was only joking, because your boyfriend of all people would never make a list unless told to do so. you rolled your eyes, letting him continue, “but if we don’t, you can just store it right? it’s not too hard, is it?”

you looked to the various things in your basket already: green onions, garlic, cabbage, carrots, lettuce and strawberries. you remembered vaguely what you came here for, and you knew that if jaehyun wasn’t gracing your presence you’d probably be done by now (walking fast due to the anxiety). but despite that, you honestly wouldn’t have today play out any other way.

“i guess you’re right. i usually do that anyways.” he picked up a package of individually portioned rice. “just get those for now, i’ll buy bulk later when i remember.”

jaehyun could tell, like you were a picture book, that you were feeling a little uncomfortable being surrounded by so many people. you usually went to the store closer to closing, or on days when nobody would necessarily be around due to work conflicts. you usually bought in bulk so that it was only a once a month kind of thing, but when he saw you were running low on food he encouraged you (because you need to eat) to go grocery shopping, and that’s how you ended up in the grains isle.

you adjusted the empty basket on your arm, opposite of jaehyun’s, and took his hand. he gladly accepted the way you maneuvered you both from the isle and over by the drinks, which was relatively empty — for now.

he set his own basket on the floor, taking yours gently from your elbow and putting it next to the other. his face had a slight pout, and when his hands placed against your waist, yours mirrored the expression.

“coke zero?” you whispered out, “or sprite? or…”

he kept his gaze on you, before pulling you into a tight hug. the moment your chests hit, you inhaled his bright scent. you never could pinpoint exactly what it was, but every time you smelled something remotely close you were reminded of your boyfriend — who, obviously, cares so deeply for you.

you patted his should, in a way of telling him to let go, because you were a little embarrassed that anyone could see such as intimate moment if they turned down the isle. you loved him, you did, but he was a little impulsive when it came to you and yours needs; or what he thought those were.

before he completely pulled away, he snuck a peck against your lips, causing you to giggle in surprise. you continued laughing as he went to pick up the baskets, as if nothing happened.

“what was that for?”

“what was what for?” he asked, an innocent look meeting your eyes. you always found him puppy-like — everyone did — but right now especially. “how about coke zero, babe?”

you scoffed, “sure, myung, whatever you want.”

he stopped his actions, only halfway done taking the soda off the shelf. he turned back to you, approaching his a stupid-little grin on his lips. your eyes narrowed, but you knew you couldn’t back away, “well, in that case,” his palms touched your cheeks gently, before his lips once again pressed to yours (less urgently this time). you started laughing again, trying to push him off, still embarrassed of your boyfriends shameless actions. you thought this had to be public indecency, that he’d been watching too many dramas — picking up useless real-word tips and tricks — but you had to admit, you were feeling that anxious anymore.

you knew jaehyun always had a way to make you feel better; wether that be embarrassing himself to make you laugh, or holding you close. you knew he’d do just about anything to see you smile. and that he did, pulling away and watching your lips crease up. he thought you looked most beautiful smiling, practically shooting hearts from his eyes.

“jaehyun,” you swatted at him, “stop, this is a public establishment. don’t just kiss me in front of people like that… it’s embarrassing.”

he pretended to be offended, although knowing exactly what you meant, “you’re embarrassed? of me?” you rolled your eyes, knowing this was only the calm before the storm; jaehyun didn’t care about embarrassing himself, taking you as collateral. “you’re seriously embarrassed of kissing me? my girlfriend, embarrassed… oh my god.” he was once again pouting, “i don’t know how you’re going to make this up to me, y/n, I’m so hurt right now.”

you took the coke off the shelf, putting it in your empty basket, “let’s hurry up and i’ll give you a kiss at home, okay?”

he turned his nose up, blocking you, “just one? that’s not going to be enough to forgive you. you rejected me, hurt my pride, my ego — my girlfriend —“

“as many as you want, jae,” you looked to your side, sensing the few people who had stumbled upon you and your (fake) sulking boyfriend, “people are staring, let’s go, please.”

and that’s was his cue. he’d never do anything to make you uncomfortable. he knew that nobody was in the isle when he kissed you, being attentively aware, but now that there was, he couldn’t take it any further.

he cheered up, causing you to laugh in disbelief once again. you watched jaehyun pluck the sprite off the shelf too, adding it to the heavier basket — which he took — and then your hand.

you picked up the other basket, catching a glimpse of the older couple at the end of the isle; they didn’t look disgusted by your actions, not even offended. it was more like a look of adoration, an expression of awe at your young love. maybe, you thought, nobody really minded when your boyfriend expressed his feelings for you. hell, when you saw other couples do it, you didn’t even mind. and it’s not like you were making out in front of the soda. he was just trying to cheer you up.

“c’mon, y/n.” he tugged your arm gently, gaining your attention, “we have to watch the last episode of my demon!”

maybe you were too much in your head, instead of focused on what was going on in the present time. in reality, no one truly cared what the two of you did. and, even through the embarrassment, you still liked when jaehyun was impulsive for you. he was your hyperactive boyfriend after all.

“okay…” you sighed out a deep breath, “and i owe you an apology for rejecting your kisses.”

he corrected, “lots of apologies!” before dragging you to check out. you kissed his cheek standing in line, and felt something shift within yourself: maybe you were become more comfortable, or maybe you finally realized that expressing your admiration and love for someone wasn’t embarrassing.

emotions were only human after all.

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

#kpop #kpop requests #kpop writing #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #kpopidol #kpop bg #kpop fluff #boynextdoor #bnd x reader #bnd #bnd imagines #bnd fluff #myung jaehyun #bnd jaehyun #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor jaehyun #jaehyun #kpop boys #kpop drabbles #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #romance #kpop reading #boynextdoor drabbles #hybe family #hybe labels

[avatar-anna]

Baby Mine

or just young dadrry being a dad

Young Dad! Harry x Young Mom! Reader

Reality struck Harry in the face when he realized Y/n was showing.

The text he got from Y/n saying she was pregnant? Mind-blowing, but also a little surreal. The conversations he had with his parents and management? An out of body experience. But seeing Y/n with a baby bump for the first time, with his baby? His knees nearly buckled from the stark realization that this was actually happening.

He was going to be a dad.

It was a terrifying thought. Harry was still a kid himself—in all the ways that mattered, anyway. He played video games with his mates, he stayed out late on the weekends, and it felt like just yesterday that he'd gotten his driver's license. He could barely successfully cook pasta, let alone take care of his own child.

And Y/n, the girl he'd only known for a short couple months. The girl he really liked to the point where he still talked to her even after his trip to LA was over, she was here with him, on tour, walking around in his hotel room in one of his t-shirts, her stomach stretching the soft material just enough to be noticeable.

"I thought we could have dinner together," she said, coming over to where Harry was still holding vigil by the door. "I was craving Mexican and I remembered you saying you liked tacos, so I did a little exploring, and voila."

His eyes darted over Y/n's shoulder, and there were in fact various Mexican dishes wrapped up in foil packaging. It smelled good too, but it wasn't quite enough to pull Harry from his stupor.

"I...I'm meeting someone. The boys. For dinner," he said.

It wasn't quite enough to pull his head out of his ass apparently, either.

"Oh."

Y/n blushed, her gaze flickering away from his. Harry felt like a dick, especially since it wasn't true. But he freaked out. He was freaking out. Playing house—or hotel—with a girl he barely knew and pretending it was perfectly normal for them to prepare to have a baby together was too much. All of a sudden, it was all too much.

"Have—Have fun, then. I'll probably head back to my room, I guess."

It was painfully awkward, but Harry didn't know how to make it better. So, like the grown adult he wasn't, he mumbled a reply and skirted around Y/n to set his duffle bag down before mumbling his goodbyes and leaving again.

He was gone for maybe an hour. While he was gone, he walked around aimlessly, letting himself get lost in an unfamiliar city. And in all that walking, he gave himself time to think.

Harry knew he'd been an ass. Y/n hadn't done anything wrong, and knowing that he disappointed her made him upset. Because the truth was, he really liked her. She shared his stupid sense of humor, she liked the music he liked, she had a cute little birthmark on her right shoulder that Harry couldn't help but feel compelled to kiss whenever he saw it. She was beautiful and smart and outgoing.

And now she was having his baby.

They were both to blame for that. Both of them had been careless that particular night, but Y/n had been clear to Harry when she told him about her being pregnant. "I want to have it, but I'm also not going to force you to have it with me," she'd told him when they eventually had a phone conversation. "I don't, like, expect anything from you, but I just didn't think it would be right if I kept this a secret from you."

"How did your parents take it?" Harry had asked because her voice contained a steely nerve that was deflecting non-existent judgement.

"Not great, but they'll come around. Eventually. I hope."

She'd said the last part so quietly, as if she wasn't truly sure her parents would actually accept the fact that their daughter was pregnant.

"I want to help," he blurted.

Y/n had looked at him with wide eyes, and a pang of guilt lanced through him at her surprise. She'd genuinely thought he'd leave her high and dry.

"Help?"

"I—I want to be a part of this, or help you raise it—the baby. I want to help. Like we're a team—Not a team. Like a—"

"A team. I like that."

Harry had been glad to be put out of his misery, though to his credit, he never imagined ever having this conversation, and he at least hadn't cried yet.

"You do?"

"Yeah. I think family is too much right now," Y/n said. "But a team...a team looks out for each other. Makes each other better."

So they were a team, though clearly Harry had been dropping the ball recently.

He was just...scared. Terrified. But he could only imagine what Y/n was thinking, how she was feeling. Since she'd joined him on tour, they talked about everything but the baby. Whether that was conscious or subconscious on either of their parts, Harry wasn't sure, but he knew they couldn't skirt around the subject forever. When he first told his mum about Y/n being pregnant, Harry insisted that he could do this, that he was grown enough to raise a baby. He wasn't exactly sure how true that statement was, but one thing he did know was that he could do much better than he was now.

When he got back to the hotel, Y/n was spread out along the plush sofa, eyes closed and arm resting idly on her belly. Harry wasn't so scared at seeing the bump this time around. In fact, a part of him was a little excited.

Y/n startled a little when Harry knelt by her side, her eyes bleary and a little red. "Sorry. I was gonna go, but I sat down for a moment and—"

"Nothing to be sorry for," Harry interrupted. "I'm sorry, actually. I was kind of an ass earlier."

Shaking her head, she said, "We don't owe each other anything. It's not like we're—"

"But I want to. I know things have been a little awkward, but I like you, Y/n. A lot. That hasn't changed."

"Really?" Y/n asked, and Harry felt bad when she sounded so unsure.

"Really. We...obviously didn't expect this to happen, but I want this. With you. Even if we are a little young and out of our depth here."

Y/n laughed. "Try a lot."

Harry grinned, resting his hand over hers where she was still holding her belly. "But we'll learn. Together. We're a team, right?"

Her eyes softened then. She ran a hand through his curls, the touch delicate but comforting, and Harry couldn't help but lean into her touch. "Yeah. We're a team."

They stayed like that for a minute, maybe two, but Harry eventually straightened, his grin widening as he said, "Right then. We should welcome the newest member of our team, shouldn't we?"

Y/n giggled as Harry shuffled around until he was face to face with Y/n's stomach. He lifted her shirt gently, his breath catching when he saw the baby bump up close.

"Hello there...baby. I'm Harry. Your dad," he said, only feeling a little silly. "You don't have a name yet, but I just wanted you to know that I love you, and your mum loves you, and even though we're a little on the young side, we're gonna take care of you the best we can. And so will your uncles."

"That was sweet, H," Y/n said, her fingers tracing the side of his cheek. "And...I do have a name in mind."

"You do? I didn't know that."

Y/n gave him a smile that felt like she was teasing him. "Because I'm telling you now. I've been testing it out in my head for a few days."

If Harry thought the baby bump made all of this real, talking about potential names would definitely do that. But whether he was ready or not, this was happening.

"Alright. Hit me with it."

A small smile creeped onto Y/n's face. "Simone."

"Simone," Harry repeated, trying it out for himself. "How'd you land on Simone?"

Y/n shrugged casually, but Harry knew that she put thought into it, that this name meant something to her. "It's pretty, and, I don't know, we talked about Nina Simone on our first date. It seemed right."

Thinking about their first proper date gave Harry butterflies. He remembered how nervous he was to go out with Y/n, spending an embarrassing amount of time picking out the right clothes and fixing his hair. But when he actually met her at the spot they agreed on, all his nerves went away, and he spent the whole date marveling at the fact that he was on a date with Y/n and all the things they had in common and how he didn't want it to end.

"It's perfect," Harry agreed, then bent his head to kiss Y/n's belly. "Hi, Simone. I can't wait to meet you."

A few months later

"Do you want to hold her?"

Y/n was in her hospital bed, hair hanging limp around her shoulders. She looked tired beyond belief, but she was smiling brightly at Harry as she held a little bundle of blankets, one of which was his mother's handiwork, Harry realized.

He found himself nodding, and before he was maybe ready, Y/n passed the baby over to him, and he was holding her. His daughter.

Harry looked down, a swirl of emotions squeezing his heart. She was asleep, the world's tiniest hand pressed against her cheek while she took deep breaths. Logically, he knew she didn't have any distinguishable features yet, but Harry felt like he could see himself and Y/n in her. Just gazing at her little face, he felt like he could see the next fifteen years playing out—the first words and steps, seeing Y/n holding her backstage, recitals and sports games, school projects, first loves, all of it.

An overwhelming feeling Harry couldn't name washed over him. It brought tears to his eyes as he realized just how much he loved her, how much he was willing to bend over backwards and protect her. And when he was able to break away from looking at her for a second, he found Y/n's gaze and saw the same look in her eyes, and one of understanding too.

Harry looked back down at his daughter, that overwhelming feeling rushing through him again, and for a moment, he wondered if that would ever go away. He wasn't sure he wanted it to.

"Hi baby," he whispered. Bending his head down, he kissed her forehead. "Hi, Simone. Welcome to our little family."

He knew Y/n was listening, but he didn't mind. It felt right that it was just the three of them sharing this little moment before everyone else flooded in to see the baby.

"We're a little unconventional as far as families go, and you'll probably have a different childhood than other kids," he said, not caring that Simone couldn't hear or understand him. He needed to say it. "But I'll love you with all my heart, and so will your mummy. You'll want for nothing because we'll give you the world, but you might have to be a little patient with us because we're new to the parenting thing.

"But I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy," he continued, his voice breaking. "I'll never let you feel unloved. I'll change your nappies and wipe your tears and make you smile. I'll be the best daddy for you. I promise."

Harry didn't know what the future held, but that he was sure of. He'd been scared and anxious the last few months, but now that he was standing in a hospital room holding his newborn daughter, he didn't want to give her, or Y/n, anything less than what they deserved.

Years later

"Dad, you're squeezing too hard."

"I don't care. My baby's abandoning me."

"I'm going to college!"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

Simone began to squirm, but Harry still wouldn't let up. He was currently in the process of blinking back tears, and didn't want her to notice when he eventually did pull away.

"I'll be back for Fall Break," she said quietly, giving into the hug and squeezing Harry tight.

Harry took a deep breath and let go, even though he wasn't exactly ready to. Mustering a smile, he said, "I know. I'm just going to miss you. You're my baby."

Simone didn't balk or roll her eyes or contradict him, she just gripped the straps of her backpack as she gave him a wobbly smile. "You have plenty of babies to take care of at home."

Harry grinned and looked behind him where Y/n was keeping watch over the rest of the Styles family, though none of them were really babies anymore.

Looking back at Simone, he said, "Behave yourself, okay? Don't do anything Uncle Louis would do. And no boys for at least a month, please?"

Simone did roll her eyes then. "Sure, Dad."

That wasn't totally convincing, but he knew it was the best he was going to get. Harry pulled Simone in for one last hug, memories of the last eighteen years playing in his mind like a fast forward reel. Part of him couldn't believe he was already dropping Simone off for her first year of college, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to let her go. When he looked at her, he could still see the little baby he held for the first time, the one he promised to protect and do his best to raise. He hoped he fulfilled that promise.

"I love you, bug. Call me if you need anything. Any time, any place, you call me, okay?"

Tears appeared in Simone's eyes as she nodded. When Harry was ready, he finally stepped back and walked back toward Y/n and the rest of his family. As everyone got in the car Simone watched, waving to her siblings from the curb until Harry eventually peeled out of his spot, feeling like he was leaving part of his heart behind.

"Can we get something to eat?"

"In-N-Out!"

"There's no In-N-Out here!"

"A burger does sound good."

"Skip the song, please!"

"Play One Direction!"

Harry smiled as he shared a look with Y/n. He already missed Simone, but he knew she would be okay. And he found that it was easier—not by a lot but easier—to miss someone when there were five other babies, who weren't really babies anymore, to look after.

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #young dadrry #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

[blouisparadise]

There are so many amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of December. We’re entering a new year feeling incredibly grateful for the amazing fics we got in 2023, and excited for the many we’ll get in 2024! Happy reading!

1) Say Yes To Heaven | Mature | 2818 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Ethan Hawke.

 Later when he’s back at the apartment with Oli, as Louis is somewhat dreamily waxing poetic about Ethan, Oli interrupts.- “Does he quote Shakespeare when you fuck?” he asks, poking at the sizzling eggs on the stove. Louis’ cheeks turn suspiciously pink. Oli peers at his face. “Oh my god, he DOES. I KNEW IT.” He triumphantly brandishes his spatula in the air.

2) Shut Your Mouth, Baby | Explicit | 3028 words

While fooling around in a closet at a New Year’s Eve party, Louis can’t seem to keep quiet. All he needs to do is hold off until midnight, when Harry will finally uncover his mouth and let him come at full volume.

3) Bank Holiday Weekend | Mature | 4135 words

Louis Tomlinson is a twenty-two year old omega who doesn’t give a shit. The omega knows his heat is coming up but still decides to attend Reading and Leeds Festival with his nineteen year old alpha co-worker Harry Styles.

4) Walk In Your Rainbow Paradise | Mature | 4151 words

Louis feels emotional after he watched Harry told the interviewer about the fish in his latest music video, leading up to him thinking about their 'secret' relationship throughout the years. Harry comes home to his husband who's feeling pissed off and needy of his comfort and warmth.

5) One | Explicit | 4188 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Tommy Shelby.

When omega Louis Tomlinson becomes pregnant after an unexpected encounter, he decides his only option is to flee his pack. But Tommy Shelby, pack alpha of the Peaky Blinders, might not be willing to let him go so easily.

6) Dreaming of a Green Christmas | Explicit | 4226 words

Harry opens the wrong package by mistake and finds the sex toy Louis ordered for himself. That's not an opportunity Harry can pass up on.

7) Never Felt More At Home (Then When I'm In Your Arms) | Not Rated | 5361 words

Louis and Harry are on tour with the band when Louis is struck with an unexpected heat. He's always known in the back of his mind there was something between him and his best mate, and when opportunity strikes... well, it hits hard.

8) Cat Got Your Tongue? | Explicit | 5523 words

“Who the fuck are you?” Harry screeches and jumps back in surprise. The man drops the popcorn bowl on the carpet and stands up, raising his hands in surrender, “Hey, it's me.” Harry frowns. He has never seen this man in his life. He stares at the wide blue eyes and… holy shit. There's no way. Harry rephrases his question, “what are you?"

9) I’m So Drunk On You (Baby, You’re All That I Want) | Explicit | 5875 words

A lucid celebration yet of nothing in particular, and it was that he found alluring, begged to make himself a part of. "Come on, H live a little." Louis pleaded without care for the sigh that slipped his lips, for the smile that they both formed were proof enough he'd given in. So giddy within skips toward the centre where they gathered, the smaller carried Harry close behind to join the chaos.

10) Snow At The Beach | Mature | 7885 words

The little Matthew Styles had been throwing objects into his cute omega neighbor's yard only for the adorable blue-eyed boy to come to his house to return them and talk to his father. "I'm starting to believe that he does it on purpose just so he can hug you" Harry appeared behind them and Louis smiled at him. "I wouldn't complain if it were like that"

11) Don’t Let The Fire Die | Explicit | 8850 words

Harry makes a long trip to take back what is his.

12) The Box | Explicit | 8895 words

When the signal comes, Harry dips and slides into the box, settling himself on his back with his knees bent.  Louis lifts the side of the box to close it, and as he does so Harry goes to pull his jacket from behind his back a little. The last sight that Louis is presented with before Harry is gone from view is the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen arching his back, with his head thrown upwards, mouth slightly open. And fuck. 

13) Touch Me (Like Nobody Else Does) | Mature | 11459 words

The alpha’s grin returned tenfold, deep dimples popping into his cheeks. Holy shit, he has dimples. “No, I don’t mind at all. I know where to find you when I need it back,” he said with a chuckle before leaning back into his seat. Louis let out a small giggle before nodding. “I’ll be sure it gets returned to you…?” He trailed off, one eyebrow raised at the other man. “Harry,” he replied, amusement still shining in his eyes. “And you are?” “Louis,” the omega responded before leaning back into his seat averting his eyes once again. “Thank you, really, for the charger. You’re a lifesaver. I’m not sure how I would’ve made it through without my Netflix.”

14) Cause I’m Really Not Fine At All | Mature | 13679 words

Louis Tomlinson, one of the famous members of One Direction, is involved in a car accident that caused him to have amnesia, wiping all the last five years of his life from the memory. The interesting part is he may not remember that he has a girlfriend now, yet his mind seems to think that he has been in a relationship with one of the members, Harry Styles. Harry is baffled and shocked at the situation that's thrown in his face. He finds himself learning how to be a good boyfriend for Louis. It has to be easy.. 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?

15) Roommates | Mature | 18604 words

Louis and Harry are roommates. Harry had put up an ad for a roommate, and Louis moved in. Harry notices that Louis only survives on takeout out, and when he leaves for his shift, he cooks an extra plate of food for Louis with a note.

16) Play By The Rules | Explicit | 21835 words

“Okay,” Harry clears his throat. “Sit on the bed, um, slut.” A beat of silence passes between them as Louis raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “You want to try saying that like you mean it?” Harry pouts, jutting out his lower lip. “But I don’t mean it, Lou. I feel like I’m being mean.”

17) You Bring Blue Lights To Dreams | Explicit | 30177 words

A body slid up behind him and he tensed until he realized it was Jailen, “So… Louis’ pretty cool huh?” He whispered so Louis wouldn't hear from the other side of the barn. “I mean yeah,” Harry responded, brows furrowing together before he realized what Jailen was really saying, “Jailen no that’s not- no. Nothing’s going to happen so don’t meddle, I’m serious.” “I’m not doing anything my dear Harold, I cannot control what happens naturally. Come on Harry, I know you’ve been getting restless with the whole finding your soulmate thing, it might be time to just try and put yourself out there for a while.”

18) He's Driving Me Crazy... But... I'm Into It | Explicit | 56219 words

The boys are organising a holiday in France for Louis, and Harry is able to make the trip at the last minute thanks to Niall. While things seem to be off to a bad start between them, it seems that some of the behaviour is just pretend. And of course, Louis is annoying, and Harry is his usual calm self... But the others don't seem to understand Louis' feelings, and that's not something Harry will let pass. If they gain more than friendship, that's just a bonus.

19) Your Eyes Are Tired But Keep Them Open Cause You Wouldn’t Wanna Miss A Thing | Explicit | 137451 words

Louis is an omega in an abusive relationship everyone forced him into; he’s miserable until he meets his favorite student’s uncle, Harry, a gentle alpha with a big heart.

20) Sewn Into You | Explicit | 167485 words

Harry Styles thinks soulmates are a fairytale, or in other words-a lie. He has no interest in entertaining anything that has anything to do with the very name that had been etched along his collarbone since his eighteenth birthday. Louis Tomlinson won't be answering to another alpha for the rest of his life if he can help it. Fuck happy endings, his soul mate can choke on it. Problem is, Harry needs a personal assistant to save his family's business, Louis needs the cash to officially move off of his childhood best-friend's couch. They can manage. Surely, nothing will go wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #blp

[hanafubukki]

Uh- I kinda ended up starting the continuation with a recap of what has already been said.....not proofread but here you go....before I get to the actual continuation....

Lilia and Malleus were starting to wonder if they'd started something they hadn't expected would be left unfinished. They had known their dear Sebek since birth. They knew he hadn't actually gotten together with you romantically- they could read him plain as day. Not only had he come back with good news the very day after they'd made their request, there was plenty of evidence the emotional connection wasn't there; like how when he'd first announced it his smile was the one he always had when he'd served Malleus well (and how he had immediately forgotten the topic after it was said), the look of dread on his face when they'd told him to be coupley, how he'd go through his day without initiating anything with you despite you floating around him like a doting girlfriend would. Their poker faces almost dropped one instance when the two of you had approached them, Sebek reporting in before walking off abruptly and leaving you to scramble after him. It seemed he really didn't even put in the barest of efforts from his side of the so-called relationship. They were somewhat disappointed, but oh well. They had tried. Was what they thought until...

Was it more or less surprising that you started to fall for him first? The looks of surprise or sometimes slight panic when Sebek made you scramble after him turned into knowing sighs and fond smiles as the scrambling turn into predictable departures. Your stiffness started melting away. You could walk up to him and lean into his side knowing his lack of acknowledgement was nothing negative. You had no problems letting your stream of thought leak from your mouth while he made no conversation back. You knew his favorite meals from the cafeteria and would grab them for him- slipping in a side salad for good health on occasion (and trying hard to not react outwardly when he'd eat it without question, as if he had meant to order one himself). You found yourself buying a pencil while at Sam's because you'd seen Sebek's had been growing short. You'd draw doodles of him and his liege- sometimes purposefully bad to make them even cuter (and his reactions- you never would have thought you'd find them endearing). The sense of obligation you'd had at the start of this ruse, similar to what you'd have at work, turned into willful performance. A sweetness would envelop your heart while thinking of him before bed, and it only became worse when he started to respond.

The somersaults in your stomach almost made you nauseous when you noticed Sebek had started to wait for you at the lunch table before eating his lunch. As well as when he'd started speaking his thoughts to you. He eventually stopped walking off on his own, and on rare occasions you'd find a new package of one of your typically eaten snacks left in your room after a study session (should you perhaps feed him one as thanks? Would you even dare? And is it him or you who wants it to happen?).

In your shared PE class, he'd search the group of bodies until he found yours and then make his way over, just to stand with his arms crossed and wait until your turns came up. He'd catch you in his peripheral sight, walking down a different corridor, and keep an eye on you until you left. It was while his attention was off them that Lilia and Malleus shared a knowing look. It seemed maybe their little push was actually making ripples now. But they were not deep enough yet, for when they tried to poke at him and tease him for his growing feelings, he responded with genuine confusion. They rejoiced in their somewhat success on the day of 'x' event when he showed up with you on his arm, the both of you finely dressed and matching, and aura of undoubtable young love around you, and not thinking anything of it when they made their way home without you in their group. Sebek was acting as usual and made no fuss. The morning after was the same, he was preparing Malleus his breakfast and ready to escort him to class. But unusually, you were still not around. It continued for days, but although you were physically gone, your presence was not. They caught instances when Sebek had not readjusted to life without you. They'd spot him walking down the hall, saying something before looking to his side and deflating for just a second. They found snacks he would never buy for himself set out on his desk- he didn't realize he had bought another bag. He didn't feel comfortable sitting alone on his side of the lunch table, insisting Silver sit next to him so they could better keep watch in case someone went for their master's back. But he was slow to start eating. With a concealed chuckle, Lilia decided to probe one day, "Hm? Sebek, why haven't you started to eat yet? Lunch break will be over before you know it, you know." He was sure with his answer, "___ is not here yet. I will start once everyone is at the table." "But Sebek, ___ won't be coming to our table. You and her are no longer courting, so why would she? Look, she's back at the table with her other friends over there."

Sebek did not turn around to look, but he did start to eat.

[continuation of this fic]

Me happily reading:

Me at the end:

Fake Date Sebek Anonie!!!

I was happily reading and then I got to the end 😭💔

#answered #Anonie ask #🌺fake date sebek anonie🌺 #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #🌷others fics🌷

[juyomiao]

take the chance - ricky

ricky x gn!reader

genre: fluff !!! , best friends to lovers

word count: 791

warnings: ENGLISH ISNT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!! so theres going to be mistakes !!! , alcohol consumption but its barely mentioned , is it considered underage drinking if it'd only be considered as underage drinking in countries where the drinking age is above 18/19 ,, (i feel bad for u if u r from any of those countries fr)

note: first actually written work im kinda # nervous my writing skills r .. definitely writing !! this is cringe cliché and based on a dream i had like a month ago . yes im a lesbian yes i dream abt kissing ricky thats completely normal . (friends dont read this i want to disappear rn as i speak)

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You've been to countless parties since the half of the previous school year when your best friend Ricky became popular out of nowhere. You still don't know where that popularity came from, he's always been good looking, it's not like he had some kind of glow up.

Sometimes you think it's more of a curse than a blessing, with all the times you've been dragged to a party you were not invited to because Ricky, being the introvert he is, refuses to go anywhere without you and, consequently, getting dirty looks from everyone for tagging along and 'leeching' off of Ricky's popularity.

Even now, when people have more or less come to terms with the fact that you two are a package deal, you still despise parties, only appreciating a few things about them, like drinking for free and… nothing else, really.

It's not like Ricky enjoys them either, he'd rather stay home with you and watch some romance drama as you eventually fall asleep with your head on his shoulder. But it's not like he can reject every single invite thrown at him. So you two came to a compromise: one weekend at a party, one weekend at your house.

The boredom of awkwardly standing in a corner as you silently watch yet another drunk couple make out, careless of the countless other people surrounding them, soon gets to you, and you blurt out a question.

"Have you ever kissed someone?"

Ricky's calm expression falters for a second, his eyes widening. He just hopes the dimly lit room is hiding the blush creeping on his cheeks.

He's your best friend, how do you not know?

Well, Ricky is a private person and, even having known him for years, he barely talks about his romantic life, so you've never dared prying into it.

"Of course," he says, after composing himself "You?"

You shake your head, breaking eye contact with him. "And I don't think it's going to happen any time soon," you sigh. At this point, it's a hopeless mission.

Ricky is convinced if it wasn't for the loud music in the background, everyone would be able to hear the cogs turning in his brain as it processes this information.

His best friend – whom he has had a crush on since forever – has never kissed someone.

Ricky looks at you through the corner of his eye, wondering if he should take the chance and possibly change your relationship forever – for the better or the worse, he doesn't know.

To you, though, it just looks like he's side-eyeing you with his usual unreadable expression, and you think you fucked up. You assume he's judging you, because not only are you a complete, bitchless loser, but you brought the conversation up yourself.

"Forget it, I don't know why I said that, sorry, now you probably think I'm weird and…" you start rambling, and to Ricky, that's the cutest thing he has ever seen.

God, he's really that down bad.

Suddenly, an idea pops up in his head.

"Can I kiss you?"

The abrupt question leaves you speechless, your words dying in your mouth as you look at him like he has grown a second head.

"What?" It sounds dumb once you say it, but you genuinely think you misheard him. There's no way Ricky, of all people, would ask you something like that.

Ricky smiles, "I said," he turns with his shoulder leaning on the wall so he can look at you directly "Can I kiss you?"

You blink at him, dumbfounded "Wha- what? Did you… what? Did you actually say that? Am I hearing this right?"

Ricky nods, clearly amused by your reaction

"If this is a joke, it's not funny, like, at all."

"Why would I be joking?" Ricky's expression goes back to deadpan serious, he inches closer to your face "So? Is this a yes?"

You nod slowly, still trying to process what's happening. You shouldn't want this, you shouldn't be so tempted to kiss your best friend. But you are.

Before you can overthink it any further, Ricky closes the space between you two. He's hesitant at first, his lips barely brushing against yours, but when you clumsily try to reciprocate the kiss, he takes the lead.

It doesn't feel special, or magic, or like anything else people have described their first kiss as. It's just two best friends who realized their feelings for each other. And to you, that's perfect.

"So… now what?"

"How about we get out of here and go on a date?" You sigh, shaking your head, "Ricky, it's…" you check your phone "1 AM, where would we even go?"

He seems to genuinely think about it for a solid one or two minutes "McDonald's?"

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note 2 bc i cant stfu : WHY IS THE ENDING SO RUSHED I WANT TO SCREAM.. but i've wanted to post this for like a week now so im posting it anyways , pls leave some feedback if u liked it 🫶🏻

#☆ li writes #zb1 scenarios #zb1 fluff #zb1 x reader #shen ricky

[valentine-writes]

Could you write something about hanahaki disease with Johnathon ohnn? (Could end in angst or fluff either is good :3) no rush ofc, i love your work!!!

choking on flowers.

「 tws + notes: open ended ending, implications/mentions of death (but no Actual Death), unedited, OOC, interpretation of hanahaki may be slightly diff (i haven't heard of this trope thing in a hot min ngl so im not the Greatest With This), pre-collider even though his holes generating flowers is a silly thought which i giggled abt while writing this, present/past tenses are fucked up cuz i changed formatting halfway, angst?? 」

「 gn!reader, (unrequited) romantic relationship </3 」

↳ ft. johnathan/johnathon ohnn

author's note: THANK U SMMM!! (∩^o^)⊃━☆ lowkey 4got thiz thing existed lolz,, and while hanahaki aus are no longer My Thing, i wud b lying if i told u i didn't eat hanahaki ficz up in middle school ＞︿＜!! sooo,, here we go!!! hopefully this is ok,, many apologies for how short it iz aauwgwhwh

this is the third time you've called him today, trying to reach out. the first two times, he had thought he was strong enough to ignore you.

he was wrong. the minute his phone rang out that third time, he practically scrambled over to it just to answer. pathetic.

"you haven't been at work for what,,, almost two weeks now?"

the concern in your voice makes johnathan want to keel over dead instantly– not like he's far from it anyways. he pulls his phone away as he lets out a weak cough. you barely hear it from your end of the call.

"...sick." is all he manages to rasp out, his sore throat preventing him from speaking further. even if he could manage to talk more, he wouldn't know what else to say. how would he tell you? the call ends prematurely. you know you're not going to get more out of him, and he knows that it's better to keep you in the dark about his situation.

to tell you about how his unrequited feelings have manifested into something much more than both of you can handle was completely and absolutely out of the question. how was he supposed to explain he had been coughing up your favourite flowers? johnathan would rather let it kill him.

not only was he humiliated by the sheer intensity of his yearning– he knew you'd end up feeling guilty about it. yet, a part of his heart ached, wishing that he was selfish enough to tell you. maybe seeing you cry over him would give him some semblance of love.

that was an awful thought. he promptly pushed it aside. he'd never want to make you cry.

he could only laugh at how frustrating his situation is. it was inescapable, his fate inevitable and ever nearing– and no one to tell.

he had never felt so alone.

at least i'll have flowers for my funeral, he thought in the deafening silence of his home, finding the energy to let out a weak chuckle over the thought.

–

a few days after the call, his phone buzzed, receiving a text from you:

i'm coming over'

straightforward, at least.

'what if you get sick?' he messages back, trying to generate excuses to keep you away.

you reply swiftly, before he can come up with anything else, unswayed by the idea of potentially catching his illness which, unbeknownst to you, wasn't really transferable anyways. 'we'll wear masks then. omw.'

lovely. you were stubborn as ever. at least you gave him a heads up.

he noticed you made no attempt to keep your distance from him as you dropped off his little care package.

all neatly put into a little basket was some fresh fruit you had insisted he needed, as you rambled over the importance of vitamin c and immune health, a sweet little card filled with "get better soon"s filled by his coworkers at alchemax most of which he knew probably didn't really care all that much, a few packages of cough drops you had been a sweetheart to actually choose ones which had bearable flavours, a blanket, a few snacks, and... flowers.

if you had known exactly what illness, he doubted this choice would have been made. he stared at them silently, finding some sort of humor in the mortifying irony.

-

you said an awkward goodbye at his door, about to turn around and head off– before hesitating for a second.

"johnathan?" the way you looked at him, eyes filled with tenderness and worry– maybe it wasn't so bad after all, for you to be the death of him.

"...yeah?"

you didn't say anything further, instead, choosing to communicate through impulsively squeezing him into a tight hug.

you pull away just as quick as it had happened, yet the warmth of your embrace lingered a little longer, even as you headed out the door. something about you caring so much made it hurt more.

johnathan wondered why you even cared, why you were so persistent about looking out for him– knowing that he'd end up watching you slip away from him again, leaving an ache in his heart nothing could remedy.

he couldn't blame you. not sweet, kind, thoughtful you. he was the idiot, the careless fool who yearned for something he couldn't have.

maybe in another life, he thought to himself.

#atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #the spot #johnathon ohnn #johnathan ohnn #johnathan ohnn headcanons #johnathan ohnn x reader #johnathon ohnn headcanons #johnathon ohnn x reader #the spot x reader #the spot headcanons

[sanguisarcana]

@bakrahispul || is dealing with blood-drunk vampire cat bf

"did you see the look on his face?" astarion clung to his lover's trunk of an arm, blood-drunk and a bit woozy with every step faltering and his only saving grace the fact he had keeping his own balance down to a science. "he looked positively hideous." an inebriated peal of hoarse laughter escaped him. perhaps the most genuine he'd let out ever since their arrival. "i mean, most of us do during the stroke of death. but to watch all that stalwart confidence crumble to absolute dread? mwah!"

let alone the fact they had just saved a pair of brats from their captors. astarion was far more concerned about the look in said captors' eyes than the brats themselves, whom halsin had insisted they delivered home only to find that the kids didn't have a home to return to.

a pity.

finding themselves a secluded spot under a towering willow in the heart of bloomridge park, astarion waited for halsin to settle down first before nestling himself between the druid's legs and easing back against him. evidence of their little murderous excursion still clung to his chin in a trickle of blood astarion had yet to do away with.

"you know," his smile grew, hand coming down to pluck a starflower off by the stem and hold it up to his nose, picking it apart petal by petal. "if i had known that being such a bloody do-gooder could inspire so much horror in the hearts of those we're putting to sword, why i might even have started sooner myself." a chuckle, more breath than sound. the flower in his hold only one-third ruined. "honestly, i could do without all of the grandiose displays of gratitude thrown my way by the peasantry. now, the gory deaths that precede them?" throwing his head back against the druid's chest, the pale elf's fangs bared in display of a rampant laugh. "hah! tease me any harder with that sort of vicious delight, my love, and you might as well end up inside of me by the night's end."

doing good and astarion didn't exactly come as a package deal.

...unless, of course, encouraged by the prospect of murder and feasting on the blood of thinking creatures, in which case he could be persuaded.

#{ doing good for every wrong reason? astarion subcribes to that number- not that he cares about the good bit buuut if halsin /insists/ } #bakrahispul #|| ❝ my mouth filled with the aching taste of rebirth ❞ || act iii

[zyhkoo]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

eye candy ♡ willy wonka 2023

⠀

✦✦ 𓏏𓏏 ms. y/n rosewell, a famous botanist has come back from town after a year. she had returned with special flowers from her trip and famous willy wonka has caught her attention. will they get along? ♡ wattpad link

"Thanks for the hand, kind gentleman! Your pay is in at the counter over there," you grinned as you placed a package on the table. It had been a year since you had traveled the world, and the town you resided in appeared more vibrant and bustling than before. Everyone in town appeared more happy and cheery than the previous time you came, which was quite the lovely sensation.

You unpacked the boxes and set some flowers on the shelf; a few boxes required strength to lift, but you were able to do it. You brought home a variety of flowers, from common to unusual, and basic to exotic. It was difficult traveling with flowers for a year; some didn't make it back to town. But that is what it is; you were just happy to bring home beautiful flowers for others to admire.

You were a well known botanist, your flowers were known well throughout the town. If a loved one received flowers from your shop, it was basically a flex. Some people recognized you on the way and were delighted to see you, while others briefly stopped to see if they can purchase a couple of flowers. But you rejected, saying you wanted to start selling when your business reopened for everyone.

Finally, after hours of effort, you placed the last flower on the shelf. You wiped your sweat and looked around. You were really proud because all of your gorgeous flowers were placed exactly where you intended them to be.

The sun was beginning to set; tomorrow would be the day you reopened your small shop.

Up your shop, there was your room. It wasn't too big nor too small, it felt just right. You didn't care about fancy things, as long as you felt happy you'll be fine. Flowers brought you joy but was that really all?

You never really had friends, only acquaintances. You were an orphan raised by a botanist who passed when you turned 16.  You had a step-sister who went missing. Who else was there for you? No one ever wanted to see you other than for your flowers. It was kind of a sad thought, maybe this year you'll find someone.

You exhaled, shaking the ideas from your brain. After you finished your bath, you put on your favorite nightgown. You peeked out the window before going to bed. The town lights were stunning; they appeared like stars emerging from the earth. The stillness soothed your senses, and you no longer felt alone; it wasn't that horrible.

It was getting late, so you blew out the candle and went to sleep.

You switched the sign in front of your door, you were now open for business. You watered and re-arranged the flowers for a bit, suddenly the wind chime jingled making it get your attention. The person in the door was Mr. Wesley, he had a box of chocolates in his hand and had a very formal appearance.

"Mr. Wesley, good to see you again." you told him with a soft smile "Its good to see you as well Ms. Rosewell! As soon as I heard you were back, I just had to come again." he told you "Oh I'm quite flattered, Flowers for your girl again?" You asked crossing your arms.

Thomas Wesley was one of your usual customers, he'd always pick a bouquet every 2 weeks for his beloved partner. He didn't have much with him, but he was willing to do whatever to make his beloved sweetheart happy. "Yes, shes now my wife." a bashful grin was written on his face. Your eyes widened in surprise "Oh really? Congratulations, I suppose shes a Mrs. Wesley now." you chuckled.

He smiled, "Yes, my brother helped me with the wedding, I couldn't done it without him. I wish you were there though, you had the finest of flowers in the town."

"Oh please, theres a lot of botanists here. But anyway, what would you like this time?" you asked him.

He looked around your shop for a bit "I need something for Valentine's day tomorrow. Maybe something big? I have 12 silver sovereigns right now, is that enough?"

Oh right, it's Valentine's day tomorrow. Valentine's Day used to be one of your busiest days; men would frequently purchase bouquets for their loved ones during the month of February. In exchange, you received a large number of sales, however working long hours exhausts you greatly.

"I can give you one of my best bouquets, I've already made a few while going back from my trip. What do you think about this one?" you asked, as you gave him a large bouquet. It had different types of pink and purple flowers and it had a gold bow wrapped around it with white accents.

"It costs 20 silver sovereigns, but since you don't have enough. You can pay me 7, oh and you can pick one of those roses over there for free. Consider it a late wedding gift." Ms. Wesley smiled "Thank you Ms. Rosewell! My, this is truly stunning. My wife will love this."

He placed the money on the counter, along with a small bar of chocolate. You looked down and stared at the bar of chocolate that he left. You called out Mr. Wesley. "Mr. Wesley, you left this?" you said, holding the bar of chocolate. "Oh, its for you! Taste it, it's the best chocolate in town." Mr. Wesley replied as he left your store.

You looked at the chocolate and flipped it over and saw the word Wonka. You blinked "Thats a silly name.." you chuckled, you unwrapped the chocolate and broke a piece. You took a tiny mouthful, and while it first tasted like regular chocolate, it soon acquired an odd tone.  It was unlike any other sweet, and it tasted fantastic.

You were more of a fan of bitter or not-too-sweet chocolate. You were unable to define this feeling, though; it seemed different. It's just really delicious.

You wanted to know more, you went outside and saw a boy selling newspapers. He waved the newspaper around while trying to get people to buy his newspapers. You approached him "Excuse me young boy, do you have anything about.. Wonka?" the boy casted a glance at you.

"Aye! Right here, I have this. All ya need to know about him is right here." you smiled "Thank you, how much is it?" The boy answered, "Just 5 silver sovereigns." yikes quite pricey. "Thank you, have an extra 5." you told him as you gave him 10 silver sovereigns.

You quickly went back to your store, it says Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. "Huh, silly name." you said. It was about a man who created the most delicious chocolates, he got rid of the candy cartel as well. You never agreed with the candy cartel, your step-sister once worked for them only to never be found.

You missed your found family, they were your big inspiration. You stopped dreaming when your sister vanished. You were so desperate to stop dreaming that you couldn't even recall what your aspirations had been. But it was time to move on, dwelling in the past was not healthy and it was time to focus on the future.

You kept the piece of newspaper under your drawer, more customers came into your store. You guided the people who had trouble picking flowers for their special someone, you wrote a few notes on the bouquets, and in the end of the day you got money.

"Thank you Ms. Rosewell!" said a girl as she waved goodbye "Excuse me miss, but what flowers do you recommend? I'm just looking for a single flower to give to my momma." a boy asked "What exactly is your mother like?" you asked "She.. shes quite classy thats for sure." he replied.

The boy's clothes were a mess, he had a few dirt on his face and wore a small beret. He looked poor, he reminds you of yourself when you were a young small child.

You handed him a flower called The Noir Love rose. You obtained these flowers from a dark cave, and they illuminated in the dark, comparable to a fairy light. Once plucked, these flowers harden and never die. However, once they are back on soil, they only have three days to live.

"Here's The Noir Love Rose. This unusual flower can only be discovered in the deepest darkest of caves; once picked, these roses harden forever." You told the boy, "However, if you plant them back in soil. They'll have three days to live."

The boys eyes twinkled "Wow, thats so interesting! Thank you, momma will love this." he grinned "How much is it?" the boy asked, ready to get his money.

You softly patted his head "Don't you worry young one, its for free. Now give it to your mother." the little boy smiled and ran off.

"How generous." you heard a young man enter your shop, "Hello Mister, what can I do for you?" You weren't looking at him, you were focused on rearranging the flowers on your shelves. The young man hummed "Interesting request, but can I buy some Burberry smite flowers?" you perked up and looked at him.

"An odd request indeed, what do you need it for?"

He had curly hair, a crane, a brown top hat, and a scarf. You attempted to find the best words to describe him, and your final impression was that he resembled a big puppy.

"For chocolate miss." he replied

Chocolate..?

You crossed your arms "I don't think Burberry smites are edible." you told him "Oh, anything is possible with me miss." he softly smiled at you "You look familiar," you said approaching him "Well, I am well known around this town." he laughed.

Curly brown hair, a top hat, a scarf and a crane and the passion for chocolate.

"Are you Willy Wonka?"

"Indeed I am!" he said, tipping down his hat. "And you're Y/N Rosewell am I right? The daring botanist who toured the world in search of lovely flowers to offer to people in love." you chuckled "Is that really what people think about me?" you said "Why of course, anyone would die to get a flower from you. I've heard a lot about you, Ms. Rosewell."

"I'd say the same Mr. Wonka, you have great talent." you praised back.

Willy chuckled "Flattering, now about the Burberry smites.." he placed a hand on the counter "How much do they cost?" you hummed "Quite a lot Mr. candy man. They're really hard to get, they're my most expensive flowers." you replied to his question.

Burberry smites were extremely difficult to get; they are located in deep underwater caverns, typically near an undersea volcano. Despite its name being akin to "blueberry," it was purple. It also had a lovely aroma, and it was thought that anyone who smelled the Burberry smite would fall in love with the next person they saw.

However, this generally occurs when the fragrance is strong and it takes time for someone to truly fall love someone.

Willy asked "So how much would it be, Ms. Rosewell."

"100 thousand sovereigns." 

"Huh."

For a brief moment there was silence "Quite a lot, but understandable. They are a trouble to get." Willy said "Say, are you interested to bargain with something else?" you tilted your head "What would it be Mr. Wonka?" you asked the candy man. Willy chuckled "Well you already know the only thing I have is chocolate."

"Hmm, your chocolate is quite delicious. But is it worth a flower?" you told him "Haha, well you see Ms. Rosewell. The town festival is coming soon, and I'd like to impress people by making a wonderland full of sweets." Willy told you "You're quite the dreamer Willy Wonka." you chuckled.

Right, the festival was approaching. For two weeks, the townsfolk would celebrate the town's anniversary. It was a really hectic and crowded week. So you normally close till the festival is over. Although, you loved wandering around the festival. You'd frequently go shopping while also enjoying the silly games.

It has been quite some time since you celebrated the festival.

You sat down the counter "Alright, I can agree with chocolate. What do you have for me?" you asked, resting your hands in your palms. "I'll make it special for you. How do you like it? Dark? White? Nutty? Exotic?" he said, looking at your eyes. You laughed "I usually like them bitter, not too sweet." you said, answering his question "I'm not really a fan of chocolate. Nor things that are too sweet, I feel like they're not for me." you said.

"WHAT? You don't like chocolate??"

"..."

"Ahem, my apologies Ms. Rosewell."

Willy adjusted his scarf "Don't you worry, I'll make something perfect for you. Mind if I place my suitcase on your counter?"

He opened his luggage, which resembled a little factory filled with remedies and miniature machinery. He began to prepare the chocolate; you didn't expect him to produce sweets on the spot. Looking at his expression, you could see he was proud of his craft. When you were selling flowers, he seemed to embody everything you want.

But, you weren't that proud of your work. You thought that it could be better, but you can never make anything that is up to your expectations.

"Alright, there we go, apologies, they take a long time to make." Willy rubbed his head. "That's fine, I don't mind at all," you answered, soothing him. You suddenly decided to make some small talk: "Have you always wanted to be a chocolate maker?"" you inquired. "Not at all, I wanted to be a magician." He said.

"My mother was my inspiration, when she made me chocolate I knew I wanted to do the same." he said, his eyes were twinkling. "Wheres your mother now?" you asked, "Shes gone."

He was just like you.

"I understand," you said. "We have a similar story; back then, I aspired to be an actress... or a painter." He looked at you. "I used to audition for plays all the time. And I used to create portraits of my foster family," you said. Willy looked at you, he rested his chin on his palm "How did you become a botanist then?" he asked.

"I gave up. I stopped being a dreamer," you explained, your eyes softening slightly. The both of you went silent, then Willy spoke up "Well it wont hurt to still try and chase them right?" Before you could say anything, a little ding was heard. "Oh, it's ready. Come! Take a piece of my chocolate." You rose up from your seat and approached him.

He reached out the chocolate to you, it had a dark color and held a star shape. You took the piece and ate, it tasted amazing. "This is wonderful.." you said, reminiscing. "Isn't it? Im glad." Willy grinned "What about this, I'll give you a jar every month in exchange for a Burberry smite." Willy offered, you looked at him "How many do you want exactly Mr. Wonka?"

"Oh a single flower is already a lot for me, so do we have a deal?" Willy said, reaching out his hand. "We have a deal." you said,  shaking his hand. "Do you have a name for this yet?" you asked, Willy shrugged "Not yet." he said "What if I named it after you? Its your request after all." he said "Mn, Rosewell chocolates? Interesting haha." you laughed.

"I'll get the Burberry smites. Do you prefer the big ones or the small ones?" Willy thought for a bit "I want it just right, you think you have that?" he answered your question "Of course, I have a few." you answered back.

You held the Burberry smite. Its soil was sand, it had a ceramic vase, and it required water to survive. Thus, it contains ocean water.

"Mn, smells quite lovely." you murmured, sniffing the flowers. Willy closed his eyes and took a smell, "They certainly do." you smiled at his comment "Glad you think so as well."

"Splendid, thank you, Ms. Rosewell." Willy replied. "Your welcome—oh, just a moment, I forgot something." you said, pausing him.

You took the vase from him, placed it on the counter, and wrapped a shiny brown ribbon around it. "There we go, please come again." Willy smiled broadly, "I will very surely do Ms. Rosewell." He lifted his hat, "Why don't you come and see me at my store? Or my factory?" He offered, "I will think about it! It's getting late; please be safe."

You could not help but smile as you saw him leave your business. He appeared to be a pleasant person, you imagined in your head that he was a greedy and aggressive businessman. But you were quite wrong, in fact he was quite kind, and you want to meet him soon and perhaps become friends. But there was a comfortable sensation in your chest; perhaps you yearned for more.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

hi everyone! my name is blythe, this is my first ever fic!

i fell in love with timothee's wonka so i just had to write something haha. but here are the first parts of the story, a lot of these things are made up of course like the flowers burberry smites etc..

i haven't beta read/proof read any of this, so there is a chance i will revamp some of these if i do change them, they will be changed in wattpad. i hope thats fine!

once i get enough readers in wattpad, i will make the next parts! i plan to update more there.

thank you for reading c:

#౨ৎ blythe’s fics #wonka 2023 #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #wonka movie #timothee chalamet #chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #willy wonka #wonka fanfic #willy wonka 2023 #wonka fanfiction #wonka x fem reader #readerinsert #romace #x reader

[thatmiraclecupcake]

Little things I liked/thought were funny/want to yell into the void about (but not in a bad way) in the first Nicktoons Untie game and only the first one because it's the only one I've actually played part of and I'm biased. SPOILERS ABOUND!

Sandy unironically making Patrick a spy

Patrick immediately blows his cover and gets captured

the whole bit before and after Plankton's boss fight about his mother

the video call from Calamatus where Plankton and Vlad have to finish his sentences

the fact that said call doesn't have Crocker in it+the camera movements being janky like a person was holding it as opposed to a robot, so one could infer that Crocker was holding the camera for the Big Plan Reveal To The Heroes TM

Timmy calling Spongebob a piece of cheese

Goddard has fleas. this is an integral part of the plot

"Well this is the craziest thing I've seen since....well, since last Tuesday." Spongebob. Spongebob what happened buddy. What happened. What did you do.

Spongebob's little scared jump animation in some of the cutscenes where his eyes bulge out of his face like a looney tune

"Great things come in small packages-just ask Wanda!" COSMO WHAT THE FUCK

The fact that Cosmo and Wanda can be out and visible and shit, like the Secret Fairy Godparents are no longer secret to anybody here. Crocker can fucking see them.

I get the angst of people making like. fanfics and whatnot of Timmy losing his fairies and forgetting the other nicktoons. I GET it. but like. honestly. I think he'd be fine.

I just think Jorgen would let Timmy keep his fairies even outside of the whole crossover spinoff games because like. How many fucking times have they had to save the world. From something Timmy didn't make to begin with. Anyways

The Doomsday Device has four comically large wall plugs, which are probably color coded to each of the members for each world being siphoned

Calamatus' stupid little fucking dance while the boys try to scramble and stop the device. Seriously. Look up a cutscene video and watch his little stupid fucking dance.

Spongebob saves the day by unplugging the comically large plugs

Jimmy, after being given a Fenton thermos by Danny: Wait Vlad's not in here is he O-O

Spongebob would have to owe Mr Krabs money for saving the world, the Krusty Krab, and Mr Krabs himself on company time, even though the opening cutscene suggests that Spongebob was off today because his first idea of what to do that day was go visit Patrick.

Everybody talks about Jimmy and Timmy dating, Danny and Spongebob being besties, and the different roles each person plays in the squad's general relationship dynamics, but I wanna know what those Middle-Aged Scientifically-Minded GOOBERS known as the Syndicate had going on while they weren't getting their asses kicked

I'm not even talking about shipping I just want to know what those conversations were like.

Like. Plankton wants a sandwich recipe. His key to ruling Bikini Bottom is a really good burger, but the others might not understand that Krabby Patties are the glue of Bikini Bottom society and therefore an important political piece. How does this fact play off the other villains

Vlad and Plankton seem comfortable finishing Calamatus' sentences for him already and don't really seem annoyed so they must be at least a little friendly with him

Vlad's little run into the portal after his boss fight is actually pretty well done considering the rest of the jank in the animations

Spongebob lets himself be sprayed down in (what is to him) a mystery substance made by a stranger

ASS FIRST MIGHT I ADD

Jimmy's solution to the gang breathing in Bikini Bottom is chewing gum

"Spongebob, your birthday's not for another month"

Jenny XJ-9 should have fucking been there. She had existed for 2 years. My Life as a Teenage Robot had only ended like 2 months before the first Nicktoons Unite game first released in 2005

Yes it was 2005

Look there's 2 cartoons made by Bitch Hartman in this game. Nice of them to add Tak and Zim and Dib and whatnot but I think Jenny would have done well with the others in the first game.

ALSO BECAUSE THERE'S NOT ENOUGH GIRLS!!!!!!! WE NEED MORE GIRLS!!!! SANDY AND SAM AND WANDA AND CINDY ARE NOT ENOUGH!!!!

And!!! AND!!!! Who would be more willing to rule multiple worlds than the fucking CLUSTER???

would've also added like. another world/hour to the game. could be nice for a remake. hint hint wink wink nudge nudge

#nicktoons unite #the fairly oddparents #spongebob squarepants #danny phantom #jimmy neutron #my life as a teenage robot #cupcake yells at cloud more at 11

[k-dokja]

Summary: You've managed to convince your parents to be with Daniel this Lunar New Year, now what? [Chapter 432 - New Years arc]

Daniel knows under no certain terms should he be worried about bringing you back to his hometown. For once, it's nothing you haven't seen and for another, his mother likes you. He shouldn't be worried. There's nothing to worry about.

...Except for all the plans he has in mind about his investigation, none of which he finds fitting to share with you. Not when the holidays are coming up and you'd probably tear him a new one for working again. And you'd always understand, at the end of the day, you're more sympathetic than your complaining lets on.

That's probably the worst of it. Every time it happens, he cannot help the feeling that he's taking your kindness for granted.

Especially when you go out of your way to do things like this... "Isn't this too much? You really didn't have to..."

"What? Didn't you mention you have a lot of relatives, too? I think it's enough," you cross your arms and level your eyes with his, challenging him to contradict you. It's a losing battle, he knows, and he's not in the habit of picking fights he can't win. Not after a month of getting beaten back and forth, anyway.

Daniel chews down on his lower lips while watching the stack of boxes and crates you prepared for the trip home with him. His brows furrow further while he works out the logistic of bringing this back. Supposedly, he can carry them...

"What's with the dumbfounded look?" You ask before a grin breaks out on your lips. "Wait, do you think we will carry all of this back? Honestly, you're too simple sometimes..."

Your words don't sound chiding, but he cannot help feeling silly when the delivery service arrives moments later to take the packages away. You have a triumphant look on your face afterwards that uplifts the weight in his heart, still, another matter remains. "You didn't have to splurge that much on my family, you know."

"Nonsense," you wave his concern away like it's an afterthought, "this is from both of us, we're a team, remember?"

"Right, of course," he puts on what he believes is an honest smile and does his best to mask the strain in his voice. Fortunately, you're too happy about the occasion to notice something was amiss, but he doesn't think he can deal with the guilt of keeping things from you any longer.

The car ride back home is blessed with relative peace in the short duration of it. Your giddiness with being at his side has elevated much of your mood, and Daniel knows he'd feel the same had he been transparent with you. After the recent development in his life, he cannot say he has been altogether a good boyfriend, but he'd be damned before he makes it any worse.

With how happy you are at this very moment, he'd be committing a heinous crime if he ruined your good moods by unravelling the truth.

A forlorn sigh skips past his lips at the thought. Immediately, he regrets it. Daniel turns to check if you noticed, only to see you smiling at him, your eyes narrow at his little slip-up.

"Uh..."

"If you have anything to confess, better say it before you create collateral damage~" Your tone is playful but the gleam in your eyes is anything but.

Daniel sighs again. He knows better than to argue with you. "Uhm, well," he swallows, suddenly nervous, "you know about the whole business with the Park Jinyong, yes?"

He takes your hand into his own, fingers threaded together in the hope of assuaging whatever coming next.

"Mhm."

"Well... I haven't gotten the chance to tell you yet," Daniel rubs his thumb on the back of your hand, exhaling a long breath before facing you, "but DG recently informed me that my mother has known him since I was very young, so..."

He doesn't have to finish the sentence for you to understand. The familiar recognition in your eyes is enough for Daniel to see that you've comprehended the gravity of the situation. He watches you carefully, waiting for any infinitesimal change in your expression. And yet, he's caught completely unaware when you flicker his forehead.

"Ah!"

"What have I told you about transparency?"

Daniel pouts, "That I should be honest with you no matter the bad and the good?" He quickly adds. "Sorry, I just, I know this is the holiday after all and I shouldn't be caught up with work but—"

You flicker his forehead again, "Seriously, you, don't fret," you smile indulgently. "It's fine, okay? Things like these come up, as long as you're honest about it, there's no problem."

"But..."

"I'm not happy, don't get me wrong?" You keep your voice even, but he can hear your displeasure in the matter-of-fact tone you put on. "But no matter, it's not like I'll be wanting for things to do. Lunar New Year tends to be busy, after all."

"I'm sorry..." He apologizes anyway, despite your reassurance. The words come out of him on instinct.

You huff, face upturned, "Yeah, you'll be sorry when I become your mom's favourite. Get ready to lose your spot once you're done with your silly investigation."

"Hey, now—"

Once again, you catch him by surprise with your attack. This time, it's gentler, a kiss on the nose that leaves him gobsmacked and stuns him into silence. "So don't worry about me, worry about yourself first please."

"Hmph," he smiles with pressed lips, "honestly, you're too good to me."

Once again, the triumphant grin returns to your face and pride surges in his chest at the sight. "Yeah? If you know that then you better do your best to cherish me."

"But I already do~"

"Not enough, you don't!"

"Aw..."

And despite your protest, seeing the cheer remaining on your face even after he has come forth with the truth relieves him somewhat.

Although he cannot say all will be well in his further investigation, he knows that he has to do his best when your support means the world to him. You're his most precious, whether you know it or not, and the world would end before he intentionally gives you cause to think otherwise.

He just hopes that all of this will blow over soon, for you as much as it is for him.

#daniel park #daniel park x reader #lookism #lookism x reader #fics

[eridanidreams]

WIP Wednesday

Tagging: @bearlytolerant, @silurisanguine, @aro-pancake, @fangbangerghoul, @atonalginger, @aislingdmdt, @fshenkoescape, @ninjaofnaps, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, @thatsgoodsquishy0, @hockeydemon42, @fomagranfalloon, @violenceandviolets, @therealgchu, @staticpallour and @artemis-crimson

from stars through my fingers like grains of sand

Sam paused in the doorway, his lips stretching in a slow smile. “Well, now, darlin’,” he drawled. “What have you been up to?” The lights were dimmed to almost nothing. Instead, candles burned on almost every flat surface—the bar, the end tables, the dresser—filling the room with a soft radiance that limned everything—Cait included—in a warm glow.

“Dinner got pre-empted,” she said softly, “and I’m not in the mood to argue possession of the beach with the crocodaunts, but I thought a candlelight dessert might be a down payment on that package?” A bottle of Velocity (luminescent in the near-dark), two glasses, and a covered plate had been neatly set out, and she lit the last taper as she spoke.

God, he loved her, loved her so hard his heart was fit to burst. He didn’t bother trying to hide it—hell, he wanted her to feel it. “All this for me? You don’t waste any time, do you?”

Cait flushed and ducked her head a little, and he knew she’d gotten his silent message. “Not anymore,” she said, a little cryptically. “Not if I can help it.” She glanced back up at him and tilted her head toward the couch. “Pour you a drink?”

“Don’t need one,” he said easily. He hung the hat up, then flung himself down on the couch and stretched out his legs comfortably. “You’re better than any drink known to man.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “There you go again,” she murmured, “saying things like that to me. Meaning them.” Her eyes shone with more than the candlelight; impatiently, she dashed the tears away with the back of her hand. “I can’t shake the feeling that when I wake up tomorrow, this will all have been just… a dream. A glorious, terrible dream. And—” she gestured around the room. “I wanted to keep the magic alive. For a little while longer.”

“If you’re dreaming, I’m dreaming too,” Sam said. “And I ain’t minded to wake up from it any time… ever.” He let his gaze linger on her openly like he'd always wanted to, just drinking in the sight of her. Candlelight suited her. Made her hair shine like it was spun from pure flame and her eyes shimmer like pearls. Cait by candlelight, he decided, had just earned a permanent spot on the list of things he wanted to see again and again. "Fact is, darlin', if there's anything magic here, it's you." She colored at that, but she couldn't deny his sincerity. "So why don't you come over here, and we'll start making some inroads on those cuddles I promised you?"

"Tempting…" Cait said, offering him a half-smile. "But I need to tell you something, and when we're that close, I'm likely to lose my train of thought. You're, um, good at that." She sank gracefully down into a nearby chair.

Now wasn't that the sort of thing a man liked to hear from the person he loved. "That's only fair, then," he teased. "Seeing as how you play merry hell with my attention span sometimes." She looked utterly surprised, like the idea hadn't occurred to her. "Oh, yeah," he chuckled. "Haven't you noticed? I can get real lost in you." Her smile, and the little dimple that showed up when she did—her eyes and their ever-shifting hues… he shook himself a little. "You see? There you go, doing it again." Her look of confusion reminded him of something; he leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. "Cait, I gotta ask—how could you not know?"

Cait ducked her head, and he could see the embarrassment plain on her face. "I knew you were falling in love with someone," she murmured. "Just not…"

"You?" Sam supplied the final word, his heart aching for her. "Yeah, I guess you did say that. I just—it's hard for me to wrap my head around." His lips twisted in a wry smile. "But then, I didn't exactly figure out that you were feeling the same way—I mean, I thought I saw a few hints, but—" Realization hit him. "Ah, hell. You thought I was in love with someone else, and you didn't want me to know." He let out a sigh; he still didn't know what had kept her from realizing he'd loved her—and it didn't matter. "Well, we know now, and that's the important thing to be moving forward with." He reached forward to capture one of her hands in his—then pulled back at the last minute. "Doc said physical contact could make things more intense for you. Am I—would this—?"

"Sam..." She looked like she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "You can't—I don't want you to try to protect me from myself. Or you. I need you to trust that I have it handled." She let out a disgruntled breath. "Mostly, anyway."

He jumped on that mostly. "Which means there's room for me to help figure things out. And make things easier on you. Partners, remember?" He caught her eye. "Don't ask me not to do for you what I damn well know you'll do for me."

Cait growled, "And aren't you just loving that whole turnabout and fair play nonsense?" There was very little heat in it. "Okay. Fine. It's just... you have such a big heart, and big feelings come with that, and I do not want you to make yourself smaller because of me!" Now he did wrap his hand around hers. "Especially," she added more quietly, "when I'm not sure it would make a difference."

He squeezed her hand gently. "Gonna have to unpack that one, darlin'."

"That's what I wanted to tell you," she said. "When I said I knew from the moment we met? That wasn't hyperbole. You, um, looked me in the eyes—no one ever did that—and something—I still don't really understand."

"Not love at first sight?" he teased her gently.

"Nothing so clear." She was struggling to find the right words, and so he didn't interrupt further, just rubbed his thumb soothingly across the back of her hand. "It was like something in me, I don't know, recognized? Something in you?" She shook her head in frustration. "Stars, I hate trying to put words to this. Like a rusted lock that finally found a key, but the key was... stuck."

Sam frowned in puzzlement. "That doesn't sound like anything to worry about, then."

Her next words were a bare whisper. "It didn't stay that way. All this time, it's been getting... stronger. More… real."

"Okay," he gave her an encouraging nod. "So, I guess, at some point, the key turned?"

"The key turned, the circuit went live… something." Cait took a deep breath. "Most people, I only catch surface emotions, and most of those I can block out pretty easily. But I'm—connected to you." She looked genuinely scared. "Sam… I can't block you out. The other day? On Neon? I knew you were heading back to us while you were still down in Ebbside. Here?" Her lips tightened. "They were giving you hell after I left, weren't they?" Well, that answered the question as to whether she'd felt his indecision earlier.

"I took care of it," he said firmly. "So please don't worry about it."

"I'm not," she replied. "I figured you'd tell me if you needed to. But that's the problem. I'm trying, but right now I can't not know things like that. And that—It's not fair to you."

"Cait," Sam tugged on her hand. "C'mere. Don't need to be an empath to know you need a hug." And if she didn't, he did. Slowly, she stood up, and he pulled her down into his embrace. Where she damn well belonged, he thought with no small amount of satisfaction. "There," he said, as her head settled against his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her waist, but she still seemed tense. "Is that better?"

She still seemed tense, even a little fidgety. "Why aren't you more… upset?" She sounded part-curious, part-appalled.

"Why should I be?" he countered. "So you've got a direct line to my heart. Don't see how that's a problem, darlin'." He grinned and waited for the inevitable—

"Why not?" Exasperation had been added to the mix, and he couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"Why should I worry about you knowing what's in it when it's already yours?" Sam said. "Whole and entire. Just been waiting for you to accept it."

#starfield #sam coe #fanfic #starfield fanfiction #eridani writes #caitlyn lynch #coemancer #wip wednesday #stars through my fingers like grains of sand #the coemancer crew