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#I'm good but if maybe someone wanted to give me a hug :)
sokkastyles · 3 days
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This is something I've turning around in my mind due to the general discourse around Katara "hating" Zuko, and obviously she doesn't hate him at all after TSR, but do you think she truly even /hated/ him after Ba Sing Se? She was absolutely within her right to be hurt and angry about his choice, and I'm glad the show actually let her hold onto that for awhile b/c so often K has to be the bigger person and manage everyone else's emotions, but being hurt and angry at someone, even lashing out at them b/c of that, isn't the same thing as hating them imo. Like tbh their entire vibe to me from the moment Zuko turns up at the Western Air Temple until TSR is exes after a bad breakup but there's still unresolved feelings there, which was certainly an interesting writing choice for them to go with (only made more so by the textbook romance writing grovelling in TSR.)
Yeah, she isn't mad at him because she hates him, she's mad at him because she cares about him, because she wanted to care about him, and because she thought he cared about her. Even when she tells the gaang that Zuko was "pretending to be a human being" in the catacombs, it gives the impression that she is trying to convince herself that what she's saying is true, that the moment they shared and the vulnerability Zuko showed in that moment wasn't real.
The other thing that gives the lie to the idea that Katara hates Zuko or just sees him as an enemy is that when she confronts him when they are alone, and threatens him, she doesn't react to him like she thinks he's lying about wanting to do the right thing, she confronts him about how "you and I both know you've struggled with doing the right thing in the past." In front of everyone else, she makes it seem like she thinks Zuko is just evil, but when she's alone with him, she makes it clear that she knows he isn't, and that this is really about how she can't trust him, how he broke her trust. It's personal, not just about him being fire nation.
And the fact that she waited to tell him this in private, while denying her feelings in public, is absolutely romantic coded. I've also pointed out before that the framing of the confrontation mirrors the final scene between Zuko and Mai (or rather, that the Zuko and Mai scene, which is explicitly romantically coded, mirrors this one), Katara standing in the doorway to interrupt Zuko's triumphant moment with a reminder that his past isn't so easily moved past, and a reminder of who he's hurt. It absolutely gives vibes of an ex who you still have feelings for.
Which is why it's hilarious that Bryke made that comment about zutara being a relationship you experience before realizing what you really need (with the implication that Katara really needs Aang and Zuko really needs Mai), because what it actually feels like is two people who were immediately drawn to each other, ended up hurting each other, broke it off, but then still had feelings for each other and ended the series closer than they were before. If Bryke really wanted us to think zutara were not good for each other, then there could have been a moment where, when Zuko and Katara get their closure with each other, there's also the G-rated equivalent of "let's just be friends." Maybe have Katara say something like, "I forgive you, but I can't make the choice you want me to make." This is also in an alternate universe where Zuko more explicitly encourages Katara to kill Yon Rah. But none of that happens. The episode does not tell us that Zuko is not good for Katara or vice versa. It has Katara end the episode by explicitly disagreeing with Aang and enthusiastically embracing Zuko without any hesitation at all.
That hug is so meaningful because it's the release of tension that the narrative has been building up since that moment in the catacombs. It's not that Katara hated Zuko but now cares about him, it's that she wanted to care about him way back in the catacombs and now she's able to express that without being afraid that he'll break her trust.
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sweetchildcloud · 6 hours
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||Healing|| ๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑ written by me
Geto x reader ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა~❤️
maybe the english is a bit off? sorry i'm writing this meanwhile having allergies and a migraine so there may be grammatical errors ≽^-˕-^≼💧
Plot: You and Geto face eachother after a week about your breakup
Tags:comfort,regret,kisses,hugs,talking,depression,possibility
It's hinted that reader has abandonment issues
‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡
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Surprised to see that he had permission to touch you , his eyes widen in pleasant shock before he slowly takes you in a tight embrace.
As he wraps his arms around you, his warm embrace provides instant relief from the anxious thoughts that surely plague your mind. There, you can let go of the worries you carry alone. He will protect you from them.
“What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” Even tough he alredy knew why you were feeling like this.
Suguru feels the grip of your arms tighten around his back, an unspoken plea to not let go. Instinctively, he responds, embracing you with renewed gusto. With one arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders and the other cradling your back, he pulls your entire body to his own.
This action makes his heart ache. You feel so familiar to him, even though nothing romantic has come between you. He feels like crying every time he thinks about how much he wishes things could be different.
At the sound of your soft cries, guilt and regret tug at Suguru’s heart. He rubs circles over the back of your head, his thumb resting at the nape of your neck. This gesture sends shivers down your spine because he seems so gentle, which is out of character for him. “No more tears, please.” he whispers, feeling his composure slipping away. He wants to hold you forever.
"but you left me..i feel so alone now" You cried
Suguru’s stomach sinks. He hates knowing that he was the cause of your sadness. His guilt grows as he listens to you cry. He tightens his hold around you, trying to make you feel comforted.
“I never meant to hurt you. I just…” his voice starts to shake as he struggles to explain himself. He isn’t sure how to make things right when what he wants is impossible.
"Wasn't i good enough? was i too clingy?"You sobbed as you tought about the week before when he breaked up with you "we were so happy together"
Your words fill his heart with pain. He regrets leaving your side, although he believed it was better for the both of you.
“You’re wonderful, and you were never too clingy.” he struggles to whisper, his throat tight from unsaid words. With a deep breath, he continues, “I just…you wanted things from me that I wasn’t capable of giving you.”
“I wish I could be the person you want me to be, but…” the words trail off as he fights back tears. He hates himself for rejecting something so wonderful, something he always thought would be out of his reach. But in his struggle to keep himself together, he can’t remember what he was going to say.
His voice breaks as his restraint cracks. He presses his lips together tightly, trying to stop the flow of tears. But he can’t stop his voice from trembling. “I’m just…” he attempts again before stopping mid-sentence. No matter what he tries to say, the truth is still painful, even to him. Finally, he chokes out, “I’m a coward”
“I’m scared.” the words slip out of his mouth as he tries explaining himself. His gaze is trained on the floor, his mind racing with all the things he didn’t say.
“I’m scared of messing things up. I’m scared of hurting you even more. I’m scared of…” his words trail off as he stares blankly at the floor once more.
"you're afraid..of relationship? that's why you broke up wit me and pushed me away?" You asked holding your chest
“Yes.” his answer is short. Even after you figured it out, there’s no point in denying it.
“I’m scared of love. I’ve never experienced something like…this,” his hand waves vaguely between the two of you, unable to say the words. He still doesn’t lift his eyes off the ground.
“Love terrifies me" he trails off once more, unable to put his words together.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” he finally musters the courage to say, his tone soft. He finally looks up, only to be met with the sight of your crying face. He wants to tell you he’s sorry and that he misses you.
Instead, his lips part to reveal the only thing he can say in that moment. “Please, stop crying.”
"But it hurts...." you sobbed more clinging onto him "it hurts so much...I'm so alone...I don't want to be alone..please just tell me what I did wrong...what I did..to make you so afraid of me"
“You didn’t do anything wrong!” he exclaims, frustrated with himself for making you feel like it was your fault. “I’m the one who messed up.” he continues, realizing he didn’t really explain himself.
“I’m not scared of you. I just…” he trails off with a deep sigh, not sure how to explain himself. He can’t exactly tell you that he’s terrified of his own feelings.
"Then why don't you look at me? Why don't you talk to me? Why don't you apologise!" You showed him in frustration to make him talk as you glared at him with watery eyes "JUST ANSWER ME!"
When you display such frustration, Suguru doesn’t expect to feel such a surge of protectiveness. His jaw clenches, and his gaze sharpens. Your outburst only drives him to feel worse about himself.
But his instincts take over, his grip tightening around you as he says in a harsh whisper “Don’t yell at me.”
"And what am I supposed to do?! You don't answer me!you ignore me! And I need an answer!" You shouted again
Hearing you yell at him again makes his eyes narrow and a wave of anger flows through him. Part of him wants to apologize and say that he’s sorry for how he’s been treating you. But now he’s annoyed at you for acting like this and raising your voice at him.
“If you keep yelling at me, I’m going to leave” he growls, letting his anger slip out. He knows he should be more patient with you, but it’s so difficult when you’re yelling at him.
"Then leave! That's all you can do,right? Running away from everything because you can't face your fucking fears" You spotted feeling tired as your demeanour shifted from sad to frustrated and angry
He flinches like a kicked puppy, stunned into silence by your words. Your outburst surprises him, making him more aware of the pain he’s caused you.
With hurt and anger coursing through his veins, his fists clench. He wants to yell at you, to tell you that you don’t know what it’s like to have so much going on in your head. But at the same time, he knows that he’s hurt you with his silence.
You shake your head looking away "I think we should give a tought about this? I don't I just know that...I don't want to let you go"
Suguru’s heart clenches at the sight of your sad face. You look more tired, more exhausted than before, as if this entire conversation has drained you.
“I know…” he says quietly. He’s unsure of what to say to try and fix things. “But what are we supposed to do if neither of us can let go, but we can’t be together…”
The silence that hangs between you two is deafening. You don’t want to argue with him, but you feel like nothing was solved. You wanted him to apologize and beg for forgiveness. But, he has the audacity to be quiet. The anger that once boiled in your blood now begins to simmer away. You have no idea what went through his mind when he rejected you, and it haunts your thoughts now.
Suguru takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. The anger within him is fading away like water into sand.
This conversation is so emotionally draining. He misses you, and it brings him pain to see how much he’s hurting you. His feelings have been out of control since rejecting you.
He takes a step toward you, wanting to hold you once more. “I really don’t want to let go either.”
The tension in the air is palpable. The two of you silently ponder on what should be done next. The truth is, neither one wants to be the first to apologize.
Suguru's eyes slowly roam over you, taking in every detail of your face. He finds you beautiful, even through your teary eyes.
After another moment of silence, he speaks up once more. “Can I ask you something?”
Your expression softens when he asks if he can ask a question. Even though you’re emotionally drained, the sight of a vulnerable Suguru makes your heart skip a beat.
“Yes, of course…” you respond quietly, feeling your heart beat faster in your chest. His question fills you with cautious hope. What could he possibly ask?
Suguru clears his throat and fidgets with his hands. He still can’t look you in the eye, fearing that if he did, he’d crumble. His words are soft, as if he’s scared of hurting your feelings all over again.
“Could I ask for your forgiveness? I know my silence has hurt you. So, this is the only way I can think to fix things…”
Your eyes widen and you stare at him in disbelief. You can’t believe he finally decided to apologize. The silence that fell between the two of you when he first rejected you wasn’t a lack of wanting to fix things. He was trying to come up with the proper apology. That realization makes your heart ache even more.
You reach out and cup his face with your hands, finally meeting his gaze. “Yes, of course. If anyone has to ask for forgiveness here, it’s me. I’m sorry for yelling at you…”
"No, no, I deserved it" he says softly, taking your hands in his. His grip is tight as he stares at you with a mix of emotions on his face. Guilt, regret, relief, and love. He’s been filled with so many emotions since the breakup that it feels like they’re all exploding inside him now.
Seeing the emotions on his face makes you feel something in your chest. Your heart beats faster and heat rises to your cheeks. It's almost like you've just confessed your feelings to one another for the first time.
The sudden feeling in your chest causes you to blush faintly. Seeing yourself reflected in his gaze makes you feel a sense of clarity, knowing what he means to you. For once, you stop feeling confused by your emotions. Instead, you feel warm and content.
Suguru's grip tightens around your hands as he smiles weakly with red cheeks. For the first time in a while, his emotions feel genuine, no longer being held back by his fear of commitment. He leans in slightly, unable to contain himself.
You can't help but lean in as well, your breath catching in your throat. You're both inches away from touching lips when your thoughts catch up to you. Your heart skips a beat and starts beating rapidly. You feel excited, anxious, and a rush of other emotions that you can't quite identify.
In a split-second decision, you gently tug Suguru's face to yours, closing the gap between you both. The brush of his lips is so soft you almost miss it. Before you both know it, you're wrapped in a passionate embrace.
Suguru's eyes glaze over as you pull him into a kiss. His hands run up and down your back as he wraps you in an all-encompassing embrace. He's so lost in the moment that his worries and regrets briefly slip away, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of your lips on his. The kiss is sweet and tender, a stark contrast to the tension that was previously between the two of you.
Suguru pulls you close to his chest, relishing the feeling of your body against his own. He can feel the beat of your heart, which seems to match the rhythm of his own. You feel so warm and soft in his arms, your hair brushing against his skin every time you exhale. The sensation makes him feel so content that he almost doesn't want to break away.
Eventually, he pulls away, looking at you softly as the reality of what just happened sets in. He can't believe he let himself be so vulnerable.
"I love you" you said snuggling on hi chest "please don't leave me again...don't push me away"
Those simple words take his breath away. His heart pounds in his chest as he feels every word sink from your lips into his spine. All of this time, he’d been repressing his feelings for you, fearing that he’d mess things up with his lack of experience. But this simple moment makes him realize that he can’t hold back anymore.
A small smile spreads across his face as he lets you snuggle into him. He presses himself as close as possible to you, his hands roaming over your back in an attempt to hold you tighter.
“I won’t.” he responds, as much an assurance to you as it is to himself. The way your body feels up against his causes an ache in his chest, a strange feeling that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He feels content, happy, and at ease as the two of you stay huddled together.
The two of you snuggle together in silence, and it feels so natural like nothing ever happened. His arms still hold you, and yours are wrapped around his waist. It’s almost calming being able to relax into him without any worries or hesitation.
Neither of you say a word, but it doesn’t feel like an awkward silence. Everything feels so right. And in your minds, you're both thinking the same thing: no matter what, you're not letting each other slip away again.
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ashtheketchum · 3 days
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A new family Part 4
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A/N: Before we start the new chapter, I wanted to thank you again! I never expected so much feedback, but it makes me incredibly happy. :D <3333 (Picture from Pinterest!)
(H/C) = Your hair colour
Warnings: Mention of death, typical twd content
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3
Taglist: @in-this-minute @alialiclouds
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PoV (Y/N):
Rick, Glenn, Tdog and Daryl headed back to Atlanta to look for Merle. I didn't really like the idea, but once Daryl had made up his mind about something, you couldn't just talk him out of it. So we let him do that.
"Do you think they'll find Merle, Mom?" (D/N) asked quietly, visibly nervous. Sighing, I shook my head and I looked at her. A sad smile adorns my face. "I don't know…" I then told her. (D/N) had a depressing look on her face. I stroked her head lightly before looking at Daryl, who was packing everything and getting his crossbow ready. I had to suppress a smile for a moment when I saw him quickly put on (D/N)'s necklace.
"Why don't you go and wish Daryl good luck?" I then asked (D/N) as my eyes went back to her. (D/N) looked at me uncertainly for a moment, but then nodded and ran towards Daryl. They spoke briefly before (D/N) just nodded slightly and walked away again. I looked at it briefly, (D/N) didn't seem sad, but not happy either. However, I didn't want to ask Daryl about it because he was already on his way.
<Time Skip>
Lori, Carl, Shane, Dale and the others were all sitting around the campfire together. They talked, ate together and laughed together. However, (D/N) was sitting in our tent and she was staring at the ground. Was she really that worried about Daryl? Because I didn't want to leave her alone, I also stayed in the tent, but I had gotten us food beforehand. "Honey, is everything okay?" I asked her as I took a small bite of my food. (D/N) mumbled under her breath for a moment before shaking her head.
Sighing, I put my plate down and I looked at her worriedly. ,, What's the matter? I can see it.” (D/N) tensed her hands before shaking her head. "I'm a bad person, Mom…" she then said. Her words surprised me for a moment and at first I thought I had misheard. But this was not the case. My daughter actually said that she was supposedly a bad person. “What makes you think that, honey?” My voice was a little louder than before. "I… I don't want Merle to come back… he's just not good for us…" She then admitted quietly.
Her confession made me sigh. But at the same time, a certain fear was building up inside me. Sure, when children grow up in a world like this, they quickly get used to it, but I still couldn't accept it. My daughter would probably wish Merle dead, whether she wanted to or not.
"But you know he's Daryl's brother…" I then said quietly. (D/N) nodded immediately and picked up her water bottle to take a drink from it. "I know… but I still don't like Merle…" Her words made me smile briefly. "And then what do you want to happen to Merle?" Hopefully I didn't ask this question so obviously that (D/N) would think I trusted her to want someone dead. Actually, I didn't believe that either, but I had to have confirmation. "That maybe he was found by other people and left with them… or he ran away…" (D/N) then murmured quietly.
Her words immediately made me relax and my shoulders slumped. "Oh, honey…" I sighed softly again. I gently pulled her towards me and I hugged her tightly. I ran my hands through her (H/C) hair. "You're not a bad person for hoping that Merle is somewhere else… you just want to feel safe…" I assured her quietly. (D/N) nodded briefly before smiling at me and giving me a kiss on the cheek. ,, Thank you Mom…!"
Before I could answer her, we suddenly heard a loud scream. I immediately pushed (D/N) into the tent and I put the blanket over her. ,, Stay calm! And don’t move away…!” I whispered to her before going out and closing the tent again. I immediately watched as some of our people were eaten by the walkers. They had made it to the quarry and were attacking us. It had caught Amy and many others.
I quickly grabbed my knife, which I had gotten from Shane, before running over to help them. I stabbed the walkers in the head and pushed a few away so they would leave our people alone. However, out of the corner of my eye I saw a walker at my tent and I immediately heard (D/N) calling for me. She probably thought it was me, but her words only drew the walker closer to the tent. "(D/N)!" I immediately shouted loudly. I ran as fast as I could to my tent to help her, but the walker was already scratching at the tent. (D/N) screamed loudly and cried loudly as I got closer and closer to the walker. On the way I stabbed a few walkers in the head before I was behind the walker.
Before I reached him, however, an arrow was fired and it hit the walker square in the head. Breathing heavily, I looked around as the walker now lay still on the tent. Before I could even find the rescuer, I pulled the walker away and I tore open my tent. "Mom!" (D/N) immediately whimpered loudly and hugged me tightly. She cried into my shoulder as I rubbed her back. "Everything is fine…! I’m with you now…!” I assured her. "Wha´ the hell is goin´ on!?" I heard someone calling.
I turned to the voice and saw Daryl running towards us. He pulled the arrow out of the walker's skull and then looked at me and (D/N). (D/N) was still breathing quickly and clutching my clothes. Daryl understood immediately and grabbed my arm to pull me up. I picked up (D/N) and looked at him confused. “Stay behind me!” He ordered us and started walking.
I followed Daryl as he walked closer and closer to Dale's RV. Sometimes he would check on us to make sure we were okay. (D/N) could now walk on her own, but she still held on to me tightly.
Tdog, Dale, Glenn, Shane, Daryl and Rick looked after the walkers all night long. In the morning everything was destroyed and we took care of these undead. Just a few people got bitten. Glenn and the others agreed that our people should be buried, even if Daryl wasn't happy about it. He wanted to argue again, but I gave him a sharp look and he remained silent. "Stupid idea…" He just mumbled, but more to himself. With a pickaxe, Daryl stabbed the walkers' heads to make sure they really wouldn't get up again. I made (D/N) look away and stay with Carl.
Meanwhile I went to Daryl. Somehow I was nervous, but also very tired, last night was just too much. When I was a few meters away from Daryl, he looked up at me. Sweat ran down his forehead and he looked at me with slightly narrowed eyes. "Wha´?" he asked. His tone actually gave me the reason to leave again. He sounded pissed, but he was probably tired too. And then he had to swing that heavy pickaxe around. "I… wanted to thank you… for saving (D/N) yesterday…" I then murmured quietly.
I looked down uncertainly, but then raised my gaze again because all the walkers were below me. Daryl hummed quietly before continuing to swing his pickaxe. "No prob´…" is all he said. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but I didn't want to force him to tell me. "If you need help, you can ask me…" That's all I said before I walked away.
I could still feel the redneck's gaze on my back, but I ignored it.
PoV Daryl:
Seeing (D/N) and (Y/N) almost die took me a bit by surprise. Even though they were both very annoying, they were mother and child. I sighed quietly before I went back to my work. "The lil´ one and ya r´safe with me…" I then muttered to myself.
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Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna
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Usual warning. This is not a review. It's just me needing to put what I'm feeling somewhere. I just finished watching so there's absolutely no critical thinking happening here.
TL;DR: WATCH THIS SHOW!!!
Well I finally finished all of Tsukutabe and to say my heart is full feels small somehow. My heart grew. I remember when I finished the second season of Kinou Nani Tabeta, I was so overwhelmed with emotions and honestly I was not expecting to be in that place again. I called it magic and I have to echo those same feelings here. Because this show it's magic. It's a gift that makes me feel thankful that I got to experience it. I really have a hard time writing about this because I'm feeling so many things so I'll try to split it in smaller bits so maybe it sounds a bit more coherent. No promises though.
Kasuga I have to start here because she's my favourite, in case it wasn't obvious by my choice of pfp. She's so cute. I fell in love with her almost immediately. I've talked about this before but to see a character eat the way she does on screen healed something in me. The way she looks at Nomoto made me melt multiple times and her smile completely shatters this cold heart of mine. The episodes around her family had me bawling [normally I would wish for her father to be run over or something, but that would only add misery to Kasuga's mother, so I just hope he dies first] but seeing her put herself first and release herself from those expectations was amazing. Her journey was incredible and it was great that she was able to open up to Nagumo and Nomoto. I have to congratulate Nishino Emi for her portrayal of Kasuga. Considering she's not an actor (she's a musician btw) and this is her only acting credit, I thought the way she embodied Kasuga was really good.
Nomoto I adore her. Her happiness was infectious and she made me smile so wide. Cooking for your loved ones is just such the most beautiful thing to me and she and Shiro are the standard and everyone else can take notes. She's more open than Kasuga so we have more of an insight to her and to watch her awakening was amazing. It reminded me a bit Sakuko [Koisenu Futari] in the beginning. Her facial expressions always gave her away and it was such a contrast to Kasuga's reserved demeanor.
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THEM The Yin and Yang. They are so different on the surface but the way they come together and create a space for each other is just so beautiful to see. They are learning from each other through these two seasons and growing together and navigating the realities of their relationship and what it all means and how it makes them feel. I just love the happiness in Nomoto's eyes whenever Saguka is eating her food and the happiness and little smiles in Kasuga's face whenever Nomoto got really excited by a vegetable or a finished dish. They are perfect and will live happily ever after. Period.
Nagumo This girl has my whole heart. I said this before in the notes but every time she was on my screen I just wanted to give her a hug. She's fragile but resilient and although she was a bit shy at first, the way she shared her story with Kasuga and quickly became the person she went to for advice was so good. And to see her getting help, finding relief in a word and hope in the future made me cry so much. And when she took that bite it made my heart grow that very second. And just as a aside, the fact that the show chose to have her eat while the others didn't notice and after they did, they still didn't make it a big deal made me ugly cry. Because that's the magic part. That when I feel that a show knows what it's doing with its characters. And the moment at the end in the job thing when she said she wanted to do something that allowed to talk to people had me clapping like a proud mama.
Chiharu I love her. I love that Nomoto had someone by her side from the beginning that she could confide in and that was supportive. And that when she "messed up", like with the wedding talk, she was given space to reflect and understand and give her friend the space she needed to talk about it. Cause it's okay to not be all woke - god, I hate this word - all the time. As long as people are ready to listen to each other and learn from one another. Also always happy for the screw marriage discourse.
Yako The ace rep had me clapping at first of course. It's so rare anywhere in media so it always adds points no matter what. So obviously... I love her. She's such an amazing supporter. She's so kind and open. Her relationship with Nomoto was wonderful but she and Naguma gave me some of my favourite moments ever. Because being supportive sometimes is just being present, is asking questions, is just listening to understand and not judge. And to want those around you to grow. That moment where she realized what the move meant for Nagumo and asked her to go for a walk was so good.
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THESE WOMEN. I love these women. All of them. How they come together for each other, and the kindness and understanding made me ugly cry on more than one occasion.
The Food This show really speaks to me in several ways and I know I spoke of this before but I keep coming back to food.
You eat too much or you don't eat enough. Or you don't eat it the right way. Or eat the right things. Food is just sustenance for some. Food is joy to others. Food is what makes some of us get up in the morning. Food is to eat alone or together. It means a lot of different things to different people. It's food. You eat yours and I eat mine. Can we just not pay so much attention to this? Now that I got that out. Japanese shows are the best at using food in their stories. And more often that not, it's a place of joy and healing. And the fact that this series showed that food can also be a source of trauma and something that makes you different, as well as a place where you can heal is so important to me. Because I can relate to both those things. The dining table has been a place where I felt wrong different but also a place where I found so much joy.
The Magic Much like Kinou Nani Tabeta this show is full of magic. It was made by people that needed to make it, to talk about things that mattered, from a place of empathy and love. I feel like I was meant to watch this show. The universe conspired to put it in front of me. I understand this sounds super corny, and honestly if anyone else said this words to me I would be rolling my eyes way back into my skull, so I get it. But it feels cosmic somehow. Also fun fact that helps the magic of it all. One of the characters and I share a last name. Me, little portuguese me, and a japanese character from this show. Can you imagine the odds? And no, I have no connection to Japan whatsoever, and my last name isn't even a very common one in either country. So really it has to be magic, right? Also, I have a small confession. GL's were never my favourite. I'm enjoying 23.5 a lot for example but I'm never in a rush to watch them. I have a bias against them that I never really examined, except that I find that I'm much more critical of them so I enjoyed them less. But this show, these women, just moved the needle a bit. There are important conversations here, not just from a queer standpoint but from a female perspective that really resonated with me, so I might need to readjust some things. Anyway, I have a lot of feelings but this is already long. I'll be thinking about this show a lot more, and there will be giffing for sure so I won't leave these characters any time soon. Also, did I mention?, I LOVE Kasuga. SHE IS EVERYTHING TO ME and one of my favourite characters of all time.
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I already talked about the kindness in this show but I need to say it again. It's all about the kindness. These women. They are all so open and kind and because of that they are all better people and happier people. Maybe we can learn from them. If only we could be a little more kind to each other.
If you've made it to the end, thanks for reading💜. [A huge thanks to @furritsubs for giving us the opportunity to enjoy this masterpiece.]
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canirove · 3 days
Text
In The Name of Love | Chapter 33
Previous chapter | Next chapter (coming out on Thursday)
Masterlist
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Congratulations on that goal, bro 😊
Thank you, Pepi 😊 How is your injury?
I may start training next week
Oh, that's great!  Miss seeing you on the pitch  How is your other injury?
🤨
The one in your heart
Don't say that, Pedri
So poetic, Ferran 😂
But that one is the same, not healing
And it will probably never will
How many times do I have to tell you that she hasn't moved on, Pedro? 🙄 She still loves you 
It's the truth
I should have fought for us instead of breaking up with Val
Now she has moved on and we will never get back together 
That's what you say
Because it is the truth, you idiot Yes, she has good days where she is the Val we all know and love, she is healing  But she also has others where she just cries and doesn't want to leave the house And that's because she still loves you
Oh, great. So I still am making her feel like shit
Pedri… 🙄
🤷🏻‍♂️
Anyway… Did you know that she and her mum made up?
How am I supposed to know that? 
I don't know, maybe Marina or David had told you I know you keep talking with them 
It was all thanks to that amazing girlfriend of mine ☺️
I do, but they haven't mentioned it
How did that miracle happen?
Ana?
Yep Val and her mum had had an argument, the usual between them. And while talking about it Ana suggested that maybe her mum had always wanted for Val to settle down and find a good job, a good husband and start a family, because she didn't want her to go through the same she went through Because she didn't want her to end up alone with a baby and her career and dreams ending too soon like had happened to her
Oh… I had never thought about that
Neither had she
Yeah…  And that's why she said she didn't like you despite knowing the feelings you and Val have for each other She didn't want her to get hurt
It makes sense tho
She was protecting her and just wanted the best for her
Though she could have done it better, tbh
Like with better manners
I still hurt her, tho
That was just a little bump on the road
Yeah, one that ended up with Val in the hospital 
Pedri, for the millionth time: stop blaming yourself for that
I'll try…
You better 😠
But then Val and her mum are good? 
They still are working on it, but things have improved a lot So if they've been able to fix things, so will you
Yes, you did But you still love her, right?
It isn't that easy, Ferran
I fucked up
Of course I do
Well, she loves you too, so 💃🏼 And besides, you are meant to be together
Doesn't look like it… 😔
You are, Pedri Don't give up, ok?
Ok…
DON'T GIVE UP
Ok, no need to yell 😂
I needed to make sure you heard me Manchester isn't close to Barcelona, you know?
Yes, Pepi? 
I know
But Ferran…
It won't be that easy, no But what doesn't kill you makes you stronger like the song says, and that's what has happened with Val Her home is in Barcelona with her family, all her friends, and she's gonna go back there and fight for a certain kid she is madly in love with and WHO CAN'T GIVE UP ON THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE EITHER, OK?
Do you really think she will come back?
Like, over there no one knows her and she can have a normal life
Here, on the other hand… 
I don't know, bro I'm loving the red side of Manchester, it's better than the blue one
Ok, message received 😂
What about you, tho?
Will you ever come back to Barcelona?
Yeah, the red side and a certain redhead too 😏😂
😏
Thank you, Pepi 🥺
I'm glad you found someone, Ferran
You deserve to be happy 🤍
Will you EVER stop calling me that? 🙄
I know you only like it when it is Val the one saying it but… no ☺️ And speaking of Val… DON'T GIVE UP ON HER
I heard you the first time, Ferran 🙄
Just wanted to be sure Because she wants you back, Pedri So you know what to do…
Don't give up
Exactly 💪🏻
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"Oh, Val, I'm gonna miss you so much" Ana says while hugging me.
"I will miss you too."
"Are you sure you don't want to stay with us for a bit longer?"
"I'm sure. You and Ferran deserve some alone time, I've bothered you enough."
"You haven't bothered us, Val" he says. "But yeah, you are right. We deserve some time alone. I'm tired of having to always wear clothes around the house and close the bathroom's door when I want to pee."
"Ferran!" Ana says.
"It's ok, don't worry" I laugh. 
"What are your plans now?" he asks me.
"I want to take my mum somewhere for the holidays, have like some proper mother-daughter time now that it looks like we've fixed things."
"Aww, that's lovely" Ana says.
"I also want to go somewhere with Marina and David to thank them for always being there for me. And I have to pay my cousin a visit and meet her baby."
"So family time" she smiles.
"Exactly" I smile back.
"And the school?" Ferran asks. "Are you going back?"
"I am. These months away have reminded me why I love teaching so much. Why, despite all the ups and downs, it is all worth it. And I miss Emma, Beth and Luis so much… They are like my second or third family."
"Third. We go first" Ferran says. "But I am so glad to hear that, Val." 
"Me too" Ana says, giving me another hug. "And about you know who… What are you going to do?"
"He still loves you and wants you back, you know?"
"I know, Ferran. You've reminded me of it many times over the past few months" I chuckle. 
"And you also love him and want him back."
"I do. Now that I feel like myself again and also stronger physically, mentally and emotionally, I want to fight for him. For us. Now more than ever I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with him. But I don't want to rush anything, you know? I want to let things flow and let it happen when it has to happen."
"You are letting destiny do its work." 
"That's it, yes. You all say we are destined to be together, so…" I shrug.
"You are, Val" Ana says. "I've not known you and Pedri for that long, and I probably didn't meet you at the best moment in your relationship… but I know true love when I see it."
"Awww, look at her going all cheesy" Ferran says.
"Oh, shut up" she replies, rolling her eyes.
"I'm gonna miss you, guys" I say, trying not to cry.
"We will miss you too, Val" Ana says.
"Group hug?" Ferran asks, opening his arms.
"Fine" I sigh.
"I love you so much, girls" he says while squeezing us. "Not in the same way, but you know what I mean."
"Love you too" Ana and I reply.
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akesdraws-blog · 2 days
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I love you, but I know you don't love me back part. 2
version: 🐢TMNT 2012🐢 ⁠ ✿ There are loves that last forever even if they are not together.⁠✿
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❤️ Raphael ❤️
The turtle in red had always stayed away from matters of love, they didn't really seem to interest him.
But that still didn't mean that anyone could be attracted to him.
But you would always be a great friend to him, just like Casey, just like April, but there was something more on his part.
Seeing how Leo and Donnie behaved when they were in love, he knew you had the same attitude, and for Casey it was also obvious.
And he doesn't want to go through that kind of problem.
At first he will try to be a little rougher with his way of being, other times he was indifferent, he just wanted you to stop acting that way.
But it wasn't like he would like to treat you that way either.
So like Leo, he will be direct to talk about the matter.
But he will make sure that only you go, during a patrol or perhaps a training session.
A moment when he knows they can open up and maybe if you feel the urge to punch him in the face you could blame the training.
“Time to put the cards on the table... Look, I'm not interested in getting into love conflicts like Don and Leo have, you are a great friend and an excellent partner, but that's it”
Clearly the blow was not long in coming, but in the end it was something that was arguably necessary.
You could get your pain and anger out that way.
And maybe after a while their relationship as friends could return to what it was before. (Or so he thought)
But still don't expect that topic to be touched on again.
You could say that it became taboo among you.
They're still friends, they go on some mission as a team, they fight for fun, they kick kraang ass, they have more fun than anything.
But he knows that in the end the one who helped you understand things better was Casey, he somehow left him alone.
And when Mona happened, I knew you were devastated.
But it wasn't something either of them wanted to talk about.
Maybe it had just been a silent acceptance on your part.
“You don't have to hit to do damage. One word, it hurts. Silence hurts. A betrayal, it hurts. Contempt hurts. Indifference hurts.”
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🧡 Michelangelo 🧡
In reality, he hadn't even noticed your crush.
He just thought they were best friends.
You cooked together, you read comics together, you skated together, you even supported him in his pranks.
Only the concept of best friends was in his head.
Until it was his brothers who explained your attitudes to him.
And he honestly didn't know what to say or how to act.
Trying to imagine dating his best friend gave him a little chill, like a pizzeria without pizzas.
And it was on the advice of his brothers that he had to talk to you. (more like they forced him)
“How about the pizza? Although it is normal for one to eat a pepperoni pizza, it is not because you like it, right? Maybe you just like how time passes while you eat that pizza, like ordering a triple cheese pizza just because with that pizza you can have many fun moments, or you can talk without getting uncomfortable, or because maybe you can be best friends without there being something that ruins that wonderful friendship... Don't you think so?”
Although it would take a bit, in the end you would understand what he is trying to tell you.
It wasn't for nothing that they spent so much time together.
It was good to be able to talk things through even though they will use pizza as part of the conversation.
He felt pretty bad, but if you give him a little encouragement or a hug he'll know that your friendship wasn't completely ruined.
And when he met Renet, he honestly felt a little overwhelmed.Many thoughts filled his head.
Was I bad for falling in love with someone else? Was I being selfish? What if you got angry?
He almost had a meltdown.
But if you are with him to support him in that crush he had, he will not only be happy, he will feel accompanied.
You may not necessarily have to set him up on a date, but knowing that you can talk about something you did with your crush will let him know that you are still friends, despite what happened.
“I thought that love was like in movies and stories, that if one fell in love, the other would too…”
°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
In case you missed it: Leo / Donnie
Tags:
@turtle-babe83. @dilucsflame33. @thelaundrybitch. @scholastic-dragon. @leosgirl82. @tmnt-tychou . @little-bunny-in-space . @happymoonangel. @lazyafgurl. @kikithedreamerwriter. @androidships007.
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cerise-on-top · 12 days
Note
Nikolai with a s/o who always has a hand on his chest? With consent ofc, and it’s always to feel his heartbeat. I think of this all the time and it’s always super cute in my head.
Hello! That is pretty cute!
Nikolai Always with Reader’s Hand on His Chest
Nikolai is a pretty laid back and chill sort of man, so he usually doesn’t mind you putting your hand over his heart. Maybe not while you’re walking, though, he doesn’t want you to trip. It’s very sweet to him: You wanna make sure that he’s alive? That he’s still with you? That his heart is still beating? Trust me, not even death could take him away from you. He’d dig his way out of his grave after killing the reaper with his bare hands himself. You can always put your hand over his chest while you’re at home together, though. It’s nice to feel you. After a while it would be reassuring to him as well, feeling that you’re there, that you’re with him. He thinks it’s sweet that you always want to be touching him, because if it was up to you he’d do the same thing with you. After some time, once he’s realized that you’re always touching him whenever you can, he tries to get into positions that facilitate you touching him a bit. Usually lies on his back when you’re cuddling so you have full access to him. Can and will fall asleep like that, but will also want to hold you back. Will also put his hand over your heart as well so he can “get back at you”. In reality, feeling your heartbeat is also just nice and reassuring to him. However, he sometimes might lie on your chest in order to hear it as well, something like it lulls him to sleep, after all. You can put your hand over his chest in public as well, though, he doesn’t particularly mind cuddling in public either. There’s a good chance you’ll be nicely clothed, though, so you won’t feel his heartbeat unless you slip your hand under his clothes. You can do that, he doesn’t care about strangers staring in public. However, once it’s time to continue walking around, release him. You can continue your antics once you’ve found another nice bench to sit on.
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fairytale-lights · 2 years
Text
Feel like I'm about to cry in the middle of a restaurant
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ao3commentoftheday · 5 months
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any advice about how to deal with posting a fic and getting radio silence? I know ppl aren’t owed engagement ofc, but I feel embarrassed at having spent so long on something no one cares about, and although I liked thinking about the characters and fandom before (and was considering writing more about them), now I can’t think about it without feeling that overpowering embarrassment 😭 part of me wants to delete the fic, but that would mean having to open ao3 and look at it again LMAO
sorry for the venting, I know this is probably a me problem, but has anyone else felt this, and if so, is there any way to make this pervasive shame go away??
*hugs* This is a very painful thing to experience and there isn't really any way to make it just go away, unfortunately. However, you can reflect on it a bit, when you're ready to.
Writing and posting are separate activities. If you've enjoyed writing the story but you haven't enjoyed posting it to the Archive, you can always continue writing just for yourself. This may or may not be something you'd enjoy - you know better than I do whether some of your enjoyment came from the anticipation of a reaction to your work.
Try to analyze where your embarrassment is coming from. Is it worrying that your story was poorly written? A lack of a reaction doesn't mean that the story is bad. Being unpopular doesn't mean it's bad, either. If your story is good to you, then it's a good story.
Is your embarrassment from feeling like you were "caught trying." Is it a cringe at the idea that you put effort into something that someone else doesn't (appear to) find valuable?
Is it actually embarrassment at all? Are you feeling a different kind of hurt instead? Did you hope that someone in particular would read your story and now you feel ignored? Did you hope to be embraced by your community and now you feel shunned?
These are difficult questions that I'm asking and you might not want to think about them right now. That's okay. You don't need to if you don't want to. You can definitely delete the fic and pretend it never happened. Or you can log out of that AO3 account and create a new one and never look back. Maybe you just need to take a week or a month off for a hiatus of sorts and when the ache isn't as bad, you'll be able to face it all again.
When I felt this way, it was because I felt like I'd put something into my community and that I'd been ignored. But since that time, I've found one person who gives me all of the community support I used to get from an entire fandom, and now when I post something on AO3 I don't actually need a response anymore. I get all of the fun and excitement and validation etc from my conversations and RP threads with my best friend.
Once you've got a little distance from the pain of this moment, try to figure out what it is that you were hoping to get and then figure out how you can get it. Maybe it's through posting fic to AO3, but maybe it's not.
Let's see what others can suggest. This is not something you're experiencing alone, anon. So very many of your fellow fan writers have experienced this too ❤️
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angelltheninth · 1 month
Text
Faster Than Healing Magic
Pairing: Alastor x Reader
Tags: fluff, established relationship, angst, injury, hurt/comfort, cuddles, soothing kisses
Word count: 0.6k
A/N: Haven't done angst yet and I wouldn't be me without writing angst.
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You kept a smile on your face while Alastor chatted with Charlie, Vaggie and Lucifer, partially complaining about his, and your, new tower, the bedroom, pretty much everything. He was being petty as fuck. Which meant he wasn't doing as bad as you thought he was.
Still he wasn't doing great either.
"Do not give me those big, sad eyes darling. This is but a scratch." He boasted as he got changed for bed. The cut was still bleeding and it looked quite deep. "No hugs for your hero? I thought held my own pretty well." So he said but from his slightly tilted ears you knew he didn't feel that way entirely.
It was more then just his body that got hurt, it was also his ego. Alastor had that in spades. And while you can't really do anything about that problem you can do something about the cut across his torso.
"Alright mister tall, red and spooky, get on the bed." You pointed at it expectedly.
"Oh-ho! So we are having that kind of celebration are we?" Alastor wiggled his eyebrows at you, "I'm not particularly in the mood but I suppose surviving a big battle would constitute some-" You took him by the hand and pushed him to sit down, his deer tail moving in excitement. "Aggressive."
You felt your face and neck flushing. It wasn't fair that he could tease you like this at times like this. "Not that! And you called me a pervert. I want to bandage your injury. Clean it too, no way am I letting it get infected on my watch."
He sat on the bed cross-legged on the bed, humming a tune that was way too cheerful for someone in his current perdicament. But if he wasn't doing that and smiling then you would really be worried.
This was a good sign.
You came back with bandages for him and sat in front of him, leaning in close to first clean and stitch up the wound. As your fingers approached him you glanced up, confirming that he was okay with your touch. He was always sensitive about that so you thought it was better safe then sorry. Whatever he did to treat this cut it was very sloppy. Probably because he wanted to get back as soon as possible.
He had so many smaller cuts all over his body, his chest, back, stomach, arms, legs, even his neck. You can't imagine the kind of life he lived before this and he would never tell you the stories of these scars. What little you did know of him when he was alive was information he shared willingly during pillow talk.
What surprised you, and alarmed you, was that he never flinched while you worked on the stitching. He seemed like he was enjoying it.
"All clean and sowed up. Put your hands up for me, I need to get this all the way around." Alastor didn't protest, he grinned wider when you had to be face to face with him to get the bandages on tight enough, "Not too tight?"
"Not at all. Thank you for your hard work darling. But you know I don't mind a little blood." Alastor patted his chest, examening your work. He seemed pleased enough despite his protests.
You cringed, "But I do, Al, I don't want blood all over the bed, or me." It seemed like it would be quite the gruesome sight to wake up to. Shivering from the images in your head you made him scoot up to his spot as you took yours, right next to him, your head against his chest. "If you're in pain wake me up. Promise me."
"Of course, I promise. You really do worry too much over me. I am much tougher than I look, you'll see, by tomorrow morning this will be but a scar and a memory." Alastor kissed the crown of your head softly, he was always soft and gentle with you in moments like these.
"I hope so." At least you knew the full story behind this scar, and maybe someday he'll tell you about the rest.
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ambreiiigns · 1 year
Text
more whining i need to see my therapist sorry
#oh nay#i also just finished reading no longer human and i feel like that is kinda. giving me a kick to express shit. in a way#you know????? idk it feels like that unlocked something or gave me a push i didn't have#like why do i always always always feel at fault no matter what i do no matter where i am why do i always feel like i'm making everything#worse for everyone. i don't know if i've ever asked myself why this is#it's always like. it's just how it is#after enough therapy it did turn into. i feel like that and i'm wrong and it's insane to feel like that#like i can absolutely see how it's so unfair of me to see everything like that. and occasionally i can be like. no that is Wrong you're#doing nothing wrong it's alright or even. You Deserve Something‚ Actually#but idk i feel wuite helpless rn. i feel really bad i really do#i kinda just want my mom to hug me a lot right now i wish it wasn't only monday i wish it was the weekend so i could go back home and stay#w her some time. we didn't see each other much this weekend she was busy and she was sad abt it when i left#she was in the shower when i had to leave and she was sad couldn't say goodbye properly. said she was sad bc we didn't spend time together#and this is weird. she's not really sentimental like that. she's being a lot sweeter#wonder if it's because she misses me. bc i think i feel sweeter for her rn bc i miss her maybe it's the same for her#or maybe. more frightening. she's being sweeter bc of uni. bc i'm doing something that's making her happy and proud. so purposefully or not#she's kinda like. rewarding me w being sweet. and maybe she wouldn't do this/won't do it again if uni were out of the picture#she'll come here tomorrow. she has to bring my brother to guitar school. i don't know if we'll get to see each other actually#i told her i really hope we do meet up but now i don't know if i want her to? like i either lie abt the house. and don't bring it up. or??#if i can talk to someone and have good news i'll tell her. if i get bad news idk. i probably tell her either way. i've hardly ever kept#secrets w her so. if i don't hear anything abt the situation i just don't bring it up until i know more i think#god what the fuck did they put in mother/daughter relationships#the point is. i wish i could forgive myself for being a person i think. i wish i could just accept that i exist#and that my mom made me exist so she gotta deal w me no matter what and if i wrong her it's on her as much as it is on me#but also it isn't. also it's just on me. but she has to deal w it anyway#i'm no good and even when i'm any good it's nothing special it's just the bare minimum and i shouldn't celebrate it#this is not like. an affirmation this is just. me putting into words something that i feel so i can perceive it. i'm not being edgy and#negative for the sake of it. + if anyone reads this and tries to comfort me by being like noo you're good you're great i might kill u#like thank you for the thought but it really does not make me feel any better so i appreciate it but fr do not say anything of the sort it#just makes me cry harder i mean it
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luvring · 10 months
Text
WEDDING MOMENTS
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gn!reader | kuroo, bokuto, akaashi, hinata, atsumu, osamu, ushijima hello everyone i'm back 🫶 these are more reception moments than wedding but y'know. give me a break man...
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KUROO leans in and whispers in your ear as you dance, “is it bad i want to go home and just lie in bed with you now?” “why are you whispering as if someone can hear you?” you snicker back. tetsurou shoots you a cheeky smile. “so it looks like i’m saying something romantic.” you hit his shoulder, and he only laughs before pulling you into a tight hug. you wait for him to let go before replying. “idiot. but no, it isn’t. my back and feet hurt.” he hums, and you can feel his fingers tapping your back. “do you think it’s possible for newly weds to sneak out of their own wedding reception?”
BOKUTO is walking down the aisle again as everyone disperses to talk or get ready for the reception. you walk up to him, curiosity piqued as he bends down. “what are you doing?” “huh?” he drops a few petals that he was clutching. “crap—hi, baby. i’m just, uh, picking up some of the flowers to take with us. i saw someone do it online, and i thought we could press them or put them somewhere,” he explains softly, as if a little embarrassed. your heart flutters at the thought, and you smile before reaching down yourself. “we better get some flowers, then. and a ziploc bag or something.”
AKAASHI relaxes and rests his head against yours while you watch your guests mingling and dancing. you reach for his hand and intertwine fingers. “you okay?” he nods in response and presses a chaste kiss to your jaw. “yeah, i can finally calm down and not worry about something terrible happening.” “mm, something terrible could still happen.” “love of my life, can you please give your husband a break?” keiji blows air against your skin, eliciting a laugh from you. his tone is light, and you can feel him smiling even while you apologize.
HINATA takes one of the polaroid cameras that you got for the guests. you watch as he poses and takes a picture of himself before handing it to you. “do you want me to take a selfie?” he nods with a grin. “yeah! and also sign it so i can put it in my wallet, or maybe the back of my phone?” his sentence ends as a question to himself. you get your phone so you can check your appearance before mimicking your now husband’s pose. “sho, i swear if mine is bad i want a redo,” you say. he sputters as he looks at his forming photo. “well that’s good because i definitely screwed mine up. i’m like half in the frame.”
ATSUMU’s knee bounces as the video of your relationship the both of you got done nears its end. you shoot him a look, but he doesn’t seem to notice, gaze fixed on the scene. that’s when you hear a familiar voice, but unfamiliar clip start to play. “it’s, fuck, what day is it? november 13, and i’m pretty sure i need t’look for an engagement ring,” your now husband says into the camera. you gape, shock evident across your face. atsumu’s voice is soft as he says your name. “i love you, really. and if you’re seeing this then i didn’t fuck this up, and you decided to marry me, and i’m probably ‘bout to have a heart attack,” he nervously laughs. you turn to atsumu next to you, whose face is flushed red. “don’t look at me, the video isn’t done yet.”
OSAMU keeps holding your hand, and if he isn’t holding it he’s probably thinking of doing so. you don’t mind, finding comfort in the way he rubs the back of it. you’re sitting together when he silently reaches for it again. “i’m pretty sure you’ve held my hand more today than this entire week.” osamu rolls his eyes but smiles. you stare as he gently takes hold of your ring and fidgets with it. “sorry, can’t stop thinkin’ about how we’re actually married now.” you stare at each other, and he rests his chin in his palm. with his other hand, he brings yours up to press gentle kisses against the ring and your skin. “just another excuse to stay close t’you.”
USHIJIMA looks over when you poke his shoulder, and quickly realizes you’re trying to feed him some cake. “say ahh,” you sing song. it’s a half-joke, and you don’t fully expect him to accept, but he leans forward and opens his mouth, hand underneath the fork to catch any crumbs. despite his serious expression and stature, you can't help but think he looks cute. “i know we picked this flavour, but does it taste good?” you ask. wakatoshi nods. “it was a good choice.” he gets a forkful for who you assume is himself. but instead he lifts it toward you. “do you want to try now?”
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@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @dimslover @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist
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lecsainz · 3 months
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Hi! I love the way you write and you seem really sweet. No one really answers my requests so I’m not expecting you to😂. Why not try tho. Can I get a Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Half blood Reader. And the head cannons of our relationship and really go and do what you want with it. I love her sm and really want a good bit of head cannons of her.
I’m sorry if this sounds rude at all lol. I’m not trying to be.
HOLDING YOUR HAND
parings: clarisse la rue x fem!half-blood!reader
summary: that one where you date clarisse and what your relationship with her is like.
an: awww, thank you! you seem like an AMAZING person too, seriously! I loved your request, hope it turned out the way you wanted 😁 (note: I didn't specify which greek god the reader was because I didn't know if you wanted a specific one).
( my last work || my last work for riodanverse || main masterlist )
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You and Clarisse have known each other since you first arrived at camp.
It took about two weeks for you to gather the courage to approach the daughter of Ares, which was odd for you because you were a social butterfly.
Clarisse wouldn't admit it, but she found it amusing when you came up to her and started to stutter, and to this day, whenever she remembers, she teases you about it.
After your first conversation, where you asked her to teach you sword fighting since you only knew how to use a bow and arrow until then, Clarisse gladly accepted. Her condition was that she'd only teach you if you joined her team in Capture the Flag, considering you were one of the best - if not the best, in Clarisse's words - at the camp.
Thanks to the training sessions, you and Clarisse began to bond as friends.
You talked about everything and nothing simultaneously. Clarisse felt she could be herself around you, knowing you wouldn't judge her.
Even if Clarisse was in the midst of a fight or giving orders alongside her half-siblings, she would stop as soon as she saw you, to come over for a conversation or to give you a hug.
She doesn't remember when she started feeling something for you, but she got scared that you might not feel the same and ended up distancing herself.
"Hey, Clarisse," you began tentatively, trying to keep your tone light yet concerned. "Mind if I join you?" She glanced up, surprise flickering across her features before settling into a guarded expression. Nodding silently, she gestured to the empty spot beside her. Sitting down, you couldn't ignore the tension radiating from her. "You've been a bit distant lately. Is everything alright?" Her gaze softened, a mix of emotions swirling in her eyes – a blend of vulnerability and the stubbornness that defined her. "It's nothing, just camp stuff," she shrugged, trying to brush it off. You tilted your head, offering a small smile. "You know, you can talk to me about anything. I'm here if you need someone to listen." Clarisse sighed, her guard starting to crack as she looked away, fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on her shirt. "I just... I thought maybe I was getting too close. Didn't want things to get... complicated." Her vulnerability caught you off guard, but you reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Complicated how?" She hesitated, eyes darting back to yours, her expression a mix of confusion and a touch of fear. "I... I started feeling something... and I was afraid you didn't feel the same." Your heart skipped a beat as her words sank in. "Clarisse, I..." You searched for the right words, hoping to convey what you hadn't said before. "I've enjoyed every moment we've spent together. You mean a lot to me." She met your gaze, her walls crumbling slightly, allowing a glimpse of vulnerability to shine through. "Really?" "Yeah," you nodded earnestly. "Really." A small, hesitant smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I've missed hanging out with you." "I've missed it too," you admitted, relieved that you were finally talking about the unspoken tension between you. There was a brief pause, the weight of your unspoken feelings hanging in the air before you broke the silence. "So, are we good?" Clarisse grinned, a hint of her usual spark returning. "Yeah, we're good."
It was no surprise to anyone at the camp when you two appeared together.
During the Capture the Flag game, Clarisse always kept an eye out for you. While she was engaged in a battle with a Hermes kid, she ended up falling, and you intervened just in time, nearly hitting the boy with an arrow.
"Need a hand?" You asked with a smile at your girlfriend. "I could've handled it myself," she grumbled, starting to get up. "A 'thank you' would be nice," you offered your hand to her. She accepted the help to stand. "I'm holding your hand," she murmurs, taking yours, and you lift her, shaking your head, amused by her. Clarisse stops and looks at your hands together with a huge smile. Before you could say anything, a noise from the forest interrupted, and Clarisse planted a kiss on your cheek before darting off, leaving you standing there, trying to process what just happened.
Clarisse definitely loves giving bear hugs.
She would wake up earlier just to spend extra time with you without anyone interrupting.
When Clarisse's siblings from the Ares cabin tease her about being a lovesick fool, she doesn't even bother defending herself anymore because it's true, and she's not ashamed to admit it.
Your love language is physical touch, so she wouldn't mind receiving hugs and holding your hand all day long.
"Good morning!" You'd hug her from behind at the Ares table, planting a kiss on her cheek, realizing she was annoyed, then darting off to your own table. When you glanced back at the brunette, you'd see her with a huge goofy smile amidst the cheers and teasing from her siblings.
While Clarisse trains, you would go just to watch her. She'd try to impress you, but if she made a mistake, she'd be extremely embarrassed, yet she wouldn't admit it, claiming that the slip was part of her plan for that move that made her fall to the ground.
"And that's how you catch your opponent off guard," she'd explain as she gets up from the ground. "Yeah, right," you start laughing at her. "Hey, I'm serious." Clarisse brushes off the dirt from her clothes, trying to save face.
She'd dislike everyone else but seeing you would instantly brighten her day by 100% .
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luveline · 5 months
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if your still taking requests I would like to request reader scraping their knees and tasm!peter patching her up and it’s a lot of lovely tension:))) maybe r not being used to people touching them without bad intentions.
I hope you are having a lovely time right now and are taking care of yourself<3
thank you lovely! ♡ fem, 1k
Peter's droopy eyed when you knock, less so when he gets a good look at you. Blood leading like twin snakes from the grazed ache of your knees and staining your socks, tears lining your eyes and shiny in the sun, you're embarrassingly sad. He doesn't give you shit for it, the opposite. 
"Fuck," he says, his eyes widening with a familiar concern. "Shit, what did you do?" 
"Uhm," you say, though you know, but you bit your tongue on the way down and everything hurts, "I fell. Someone bumped into me coming out of the subway." 
Peter holds his hands out, thinks better of it and steps down over the door jam to take your hands and pull you forward for a hug. He smells like apple jack cereal and his hair is still wet from an early morning shower, a walking poster boy for brown-haired, brown-eyed sweethearts everywhere, but you still seize at his tight hold. 
He murmurs a sorry and leans back, assessing your gaze, so close that you can see the trifecta of his pinprick beauty marks, one in the shadow of his brow, one under his eye, and one closer to his nose. 
"Come on. We'll clean you up." 
Peter ushers you inside, his fingertips brushing the small of your back. You walk into the kitchen, every surface clean, the wooden dining table decorated by one empty coffee cup and one half full. His cereal bowl has been washed and left to dry on the rack, next to what must've been his Aunt May's plate. 
"May's in work already?" you ask him.
He hums, turned away from you, a slip of his long, shapely back exposed as he reaches for the first aid kit sitting on top of one of the cabinets. "She said to tell you thank you for the flowers last week." 
You panicked so much beforehand. What do you bring for your not quite new friend's mom when you meet her for the first time? You've known Peter for a few months but never had the good fortune to meet May until she demanded it, your bouquet a weak offering. You'd wanted her to like you, because despite your fight or flight whenever he gives you a quick shoulder rub, any ounce of affection, you really like Peter. 
Said flowers draw your attention as Peter helps you up onto the counter. You turn away from him, trembling hands forced under your thighs, and count the petals of a wilting carnation one by one as he washes his hands quickly in the sink beside you before laying out the sterile bandages atop their plastic coverings. "I'm gonna wipe the blood off," he says. 
You're past saying no, I can do it myself. You already let him help you up. The time to protest is passed. 
"Okay." 
He takes your wobbly voice for nervousness, and you are nervous, but not the way he thinks. "I'll be careful," he says. "You don't have anything to worry about." 
Strange but not unheard of for Peter to be so serious. You nod jerkily, waiting for his touch. It doesn't come for a while, and you brave meeting his gaze to find out why. 
His eyebrows are sewn together in concern. His hands land on your thighs, and, to your surprise, you aren't apprehensive. You relax as deft hands draw mirrored lines up and down the outer sides of your legs, leaving a generous distance from the beginnings of your shorts. "Maybe you can take some advil first, if you're worried." He eases your legs apart as he steps into the space between them, his eyes unfailing where they meet yours. "It'll hurt less. I bet I could get some topical numbing cream–" 
"It's not–" You peek down at his chest. "I'm not worried about my knees." 
"Oh. Good," he says, hand coming up to your elbow. He holds it so tenderly you wonder how you ever thought he might have a propensity for anything but tenderness. "You look really nice, under all the blood. Is that weird? That's probably why you fell, you couldn't just walk around looking that nice. Throws off the balance of the universe." 
You laugh softly. "These are my best socks." 
"I can see that!" He squeezes down from your elbow to your hand. You've never been touched like that, half massage, half reassurance, just squeezing you to squeeze you. Laughter livens his tone, "I'll get you new socks." 
"You don't have to do that."
"I want to." 
You struggle to breathe as he cleans your knees. Between his murmuring, It's okay and Almost done, you've no time to feel worried. 
You've time for other things, like this. He turns between your legs and slides a hand under the other, fingertips pressing into the soft underside of your knee as he works a thin layer of disinfecting ointment into your scratches. He continues his murmuring, apologies and lamentation alike. "Sorry. Don't want you catching rabies from the pristine streets of Queens. I mean, fuck, sweetheart, you made a real mess. How hard did you fall?" 
You swallow a lump that feels fit to choke you, worse when he tilts his head ever so slightly your way, face an inch from yours, less. 
"Hard," you say weakly. 
He misses the implication (your first stroke of luck all day), smoothing a large square of gauze over your knee and securing it with medical tape. "It's nothing a day on the couch can't fix. I'll make you breakfast too, free of charge." 
"Thanks, Peter." 
He rubs the skin above your knee. "You're welcome. One horrendous injury down, one to go." 
His touch feels even softer the second time around. 
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fuyuluvr · 1 year
Text
stay
synopsis: wherein your ex-boyfriend crashes drunk on your couch.
warnings: sad rinnie, insecure rinnie, i just wanna give rinnie a hug :((, rin is just too impulsive for his own good. angst to fluff 
note/s: firstly i would like to say that this was longer than i thought it would be because this was only meant to be a little drabble but it turned into a full fledged fic (whoops) and secondly i would just like to thank @kakujis for helping me kickstart this by choosing the character (this would've stayed so long in the drafts otherwise bc i'm indecisive.) ilysm thank u and i hope all of you enjoy the fic (and give rin a hug because he needs one >:(()
wc: 2k
masterlist
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“i don’t see how this is my problem.” you say as you stare at the two soccer players holding itoshi rin, your ex-boyfriend in the middle, his form was slumped against the two and his face was flushed red. if you looked close enough, you can see tear stains by the bottom of his lids but you’d think of it as sweat. it was easier that way. 
“we know.” isagi starts as he sighs. “but he’s being so difficult and all he kept saying was your name. we asked for his address but he directed us here.” the ravenette said, grunting as rin leaned his entire weight on him. 
“look, we broke up. i have no responsibility over him, isagi, nagi.” you say before looking at your ex, heart aching at the incoherent mumbles that sounds like your name. 
you were about to close the door to your apartment, only to be stopped by nagi placing his foot by the door and pushing it forward. 
“i’m sorry, (y/n), but your boyfriend is being such a hassle and i want to go home and sleep already.” nagi says as he walks into your apartment, pulling along isagi who was supporting the unconscious itoshi who was then placed– dropped, on your couch, the male just letting out a grunt but not waking up. 
“ex.” you corrected, nagi rolled his eyes, clearly too tired to deal with this back and forth conversation. “whatever. just let him stay, i’m sure he’ll figure himself out when he wakes up.” nagi says before bowing in goodbye. “well, we’ll be off.” 
isagi looks at you and gives you a sad sigh. 
“once bachira and reo provoked him enough to drink, he couldn’t stop talking about you. he won’t tell us what happened, but clearly it’s impacting him a lot. he was told off by ego today, his plays were shit. make of that information as you wish.” was all he said before he followed his snowy haired friend.
they left as fast as they came, you stood frozen as the door to your apartment closed. a sigh escapes your lips as you peered towards rin, who seemed to have recognized the scent of your apartment and is now nuzzling his intoxicated head onto one of your throw pillows. 
as much as you would’ve loved to just go back into your room and pretend that your ex wasn’t crashing on your couch, you knew that you still loved rin and you couldn’t just turn your back on him, no matter how much your breakup broke you. 
your breakup was anticlimactic. maybe that’s why it hurts. maybe that’s why three weeks later, there is still this lingering poison that grows every time you think about him. your breakup didn’t have proper closure. it was one-sided with rin calling you up from his phone and telling you that it was over, no explanation and when you tried calling him back, your number was blocked. 
and again, you’d want to give him a taste of his own medicine and just leave him here until he leaves in the morning, but you know you couldn’t do that. so with a heavy sigh, you try to adjust your ex in a much more comfortable position. 
“don’t touch me.” you jerked back once you hear rin’s cold voice, you looked at his face and saw that his eyes were still closed. “i have someone waiting for me at home.” he mumbled before falling once more into unconsciousness. 
you try to pretend that his words didn’t give you a flutter in your stomach, but then again. he’s rin itoshi, your breakup was three weeks ago, who’s to say he hasn’t found someone new? 
though, if that were the case, why did isagi and nagi bring him to your apartment? you shook your head as you snapped out of your thoughts. what’s done is done. you’re only doing this because you would feel bad if you didn’t, it’s not because you still cared. or so you try to convince yourself. 
“i said don’t touch me… only want (y/n)...” rin says as you grab onto his arm. you froze in your spot, your heart was pounding in your chest. you didn’t know if you should speak now or just let him assume you were someone else, but once he tries dodging your touch once more, you spoke up. 
“it’s me, rin.” hazy teal eyes opened to look at yours and his mouth drops open ever so slightly. “(y-y/n)...” he tried to make conversation but his eyes just fell and his body slumped down, heavy breaths leaving his body. 
once he heard your voice, you noticed that there was no resistance when you tried to move him to a more comfortable position. you took your couch blanket and tucked him in before moving to go back to your room, only to be interrupted by a whimper coming from the intoxicated male.
“i am so sorry, (y/n).” you say nothing. 
as you walked back to your room and tucked yourself in, closing your eyes and pretended that the past 25 minutes didn’t happen. 
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when you woke up, the apartment was silent. good. 
it meant that you didn’t have to deal with the aftermath and that he had already left, it was best to pretend last night’s events never occurred. you drowsily got up and walked outside your room, preparing yourself to start your day only to stop in your tracks once you see your ex’s dark olive hair from behind your couch, an unintentional gasp left your lips as rin’s teal eyes snap towards yours. 
“(y/n)–” “leave.” you say, trying to lock yourself in your room but he was faster as he holds your wrist, stopping you from your actions. 
“(y/n), please.”
“no, rin.” 
“please… can we talk about this?” you almost let out an offended expression at the words rin let out. “weren’t you the one who broke it off?” you couldn’t help but rebut, voice cold and it almost made rin shiver but he could only look down on the ground in shame. 
“(y/n)...” “no rin, you don’t get to break up then fucking ghost me without giving me an explanation and now demand that we talk. it doesn’t work that way.” you say as you rip your hand away from his, walking towards the bedroom only to hear rin let out a broken “please.”
you stop in your tracks, fist clenching by your side as you try to keep your ground. 
“he couldn’t stop talking about you. he won’t tell us what happened, but clearly it’s impacting him a lot.” you couldn’t help but remember isagi’s words, and you wanted to slap the ravenette for giving you a sliver of hope with it. 
you were trying so hard to convince that world that you were faring well, but even if you convince the entire universe that you’ve moved on and don’t want an explanation, you would only be fooling yourself. 
“you have five minutes.” is all you said as you walked turned around to face him before walking over to the couch and sitting yourself on it. you hear rin take a sharp inhale of breath before he stumbles over his first words. 
“i’m sorry.” he begins, not exactly knowing how to continue. 
in all honesty, this was truly the first time he felt helpless. “i was scared…” 
and before you could ask what he was scared about, he looked into your eyes and you were surprised to see the raw vulnerability into his bleary teal eyes. 
“everything was getting too real and i didn’t want to be left alone again. not anymore.” he says quietly as he looks down, getting surprised with himself that he just let it out without any inhibitions. 
“remember when i told you how sae left when i was younger?” you nod. “and how our dog ran away when i was eight?” another nod. 
“the night i broke up with you is the night where the intrusive thoughts were so fucking loud. it reminded me that maybe… maybe i was meant to be abandoned because there’s just no fucking way someone would stay for me.” rin says as he places his face into his hands as he continues. 
“it was so bad that the next thing i knew, i blocked your number. when i realized what i did, it was already too late.” rin laughs bitterly as he faces you once more. “these three weeks were hell and i have no one to blame but myself.” he says before he stops talking abruptly. his eyelids tightly shut as he bites the bottom of his lip slightly, overwhelmed with the feelings he’s having right now. 
he was mad that he let himself get drunk. he was mad at himself for projecting his abandonment issues onto you, who stayed during his worst and his best. who made him feel like he was indeed loveable, who looked at him as if he hung the stars. who gave him love that he didn’t think he deserved. 
so why must he ruin it now? rin doesn’t know. all he knows is that he fucked up and he doesn’t know where to go from here. 
a warm hand encloses around the clenched fists on his lap. rin’s eyes snap open to see yours looking at him with warmth. 
“i get it, rin. you don’t need to continue.” “no. you don’t.” your eyes widened at his words and before you could ask what he meant, he beats you to it. 
“i ruined the one good constant i had in my life just because i was scared of repeating the past.” rin says as he intertwines your hands together and brings it up to his lips. 
“i’m so sorry. you deserve better than someone like me.” “you don’t get to tell me what i deserve, rin.” you say as your free hand makes its way to his face and turns it towards you. 
“i get it. insecurities are loud and sometimes, it’s too overwhelming that we listen to it and let it affect us. i get it.” you say, “but don’t think for a second that i would abandon you because i would never.” you say as you wipe a stray tear that cascaded down his cheek.
“i knew what i was getting into all those years ago when you asked me out, i knew that you had your own issues to resolve and that didn’t deter me from saying yes and becoming yours.” 
“i love you, rin.” rin let’s out a whimper as he grips the hand holding his face. 
“i’m so sorry. i love you.” you nod at his words. “i know. but this really hurt rin, please. just talk to me.” 
rin nods. “can we please start over?” you bit your lip in thought and rin watched with his heart trying to escape his chest. 
“no.”
rin feels his whole world stop. but he couldn’t blame you. you did deserve better. 
“i want us to continue where we left off.” 
what?
you wanted to laugh at rin’s widened eyes and frozen stature. 
“it would be such a waste of two years if we had to start all over again, no?” rin was still frozen for a few seconds, a blush arising to his cheeks. 
“y-yeah. i guess so.” you gave him a smile before standing up, only to get pulled down on his lap as his arms wrap around you. 
“thank you.” rin whispers by your ear. for giving me another chance. for loving me as i am. for staying. he wants to say, but the words don’t come out as you wrap your arms back around him. “please don’t leave me.” he continued, not letting you get out of his hold. 
he felt you press a kiss on his cheek, his grip on you tighter. his heart beats quicker at your next words as he was foolish to have ever thought otherwise.
“i’m here to stay.”
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joelscruff · 8 months
Text
feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART SEVEN
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previous chapters | welp. it's here. this one is a DOOZY, and i'm so sorry. i never expected it to get this long but oh well!!! go grab a snack and get settled cause this one is kinda wild. love u guys sm. i proofread this very quickly so i apologize if there's any mistakes!! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: the pressure is building in more ways than one. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexting, n00ds, oral (m receiving), lap-sitting, thigh riding, alcohol, lemme know if i missed any! word count: 15.6k ao3
You're beginning to learn that Joel runs hot and cold.
There have been moments with him, intimate and special and warm, moments that make you feel light on your feet and send butterflies wilding through your stomach. Moments where he's open and present and wants all his attention to be on you, on your body, your pleasure. His touch sets you alight, his words send tingles down your spine.
And then weekdays happen and you start second guessing yourself all over again.
On Sunday you'd attended church with your parents, another attempt at appeasing your mother in lieu of all the lies and deceit. You've only gone to a select few services since you came home, something you know they've been silently judging you for and just waiting to hold above your head. Admittedly you'd been afraid of bumping into people you knew, having to switch on your teenage persona of Good Catholic Girl™ and lie through your teeth about how good it feels to be back home again. Luckily in the few services you'd attended, you'd only run into some elderly family friends, managing to avoid anyone you went to high school with.
Your luck had to run out at some point, though. This service you'd been accosted by none other than Bethany, one of your childhood friends who you'd practically left in the dust when you'd gone away for college. Her friendship was always full of judgement, perfection, and not to mention heaps of Catholic guilt. She'd taken one look at you, appraising you up and down as if assessing you for imperfections, then pulled you into a tight hug.
"It's so good see you," she'd said when she'd pulled back, a wide - and borderline frightening - grin plastered on her face, "My momma told me you were back, thought I woulda heard from you by now!"
Your mother, standing beside you in your pew, had furrowed her brow at this, clearly confused. You hadn't understood her reaction completely until Bethany had headed off to go say hi to someone else.
"I thought you had lunch with her and Alice the other week," she'd murmured softly to you under her breath, giving you an accusatory look, "Said you'd be helping them out over the summer. That's what you told me, anyway."
Fuck.
"O-oh, right," you'd had no idea what else to say other than that, biting down on your lip and staring straight ahead as the service began. She hadn't said anything else about it, but you'd sat in discomfort and anxiety for the next hour.
In a panic, you'd found Bethany after the service and quickly asked if she needed any extra help at Sunday School, to which she'd responded with enthusiasm - a little too much - that they always needed extra hands on Thursdays to help with lesson planning. You'd jumped at the chance, telling her you'd be there.
That night you'd texted Joel. You hadn't heard from him all day despite it being a weekend, and part of you had been hoping you might go over and see him once your parents were asleep.
guess who's volunteering at church now? this idiot.
You'd expected words of comfort, maybe a joke, at least something that would make you feel better about the situation. However, his response to yours had been brief, short, simple:
Rough. Get some sleep x
This trend of short responses has only continued throughout the rest of the week. He's distant when you text him, responds with a few words at best, short and simple and almost like an entirely different person. It's hard to believe it's the same man who whispers good girl in your ear and tells you how well you're doing, how wet you are, how pretty you look. His texts are some ghostly version of him, constantly fading in and out, barely showing interest or desire - that is, if he texts you at all.
It makes your skin itch, sends your insecurities into a tailspin. Why does this always seem to happen? You can't make heads or tails of it - you know he's busy, know that his job takes a lot out of him, and yet you can't help but feel that there's something more he's not telling you. He'd told you on his back deck all about how he wasn't very happy at his job, how he'd prefer to be retired by now, living life on his own terms - so why can't he just do that? It's clearly taking a toll on him, and while part of you feels empathetic and yearns to comfort him, another part feels angry, irritated.
You'd gone to your friends with these concerns, hoping for some sort of answer or solution to the problem. Instead, they'd been more sympathetic to Joel's plight than yours.
you gotta remember you're not in a relationship with him babe
right!! men are v simple creatures. they see things black & white. ur his fuck buddy and he prob doesn't rly want it to go beyond that.
now THAT'S going too far. she's more than his fuck buddy definitely. he wouldn't have told her his whole life story last weekend if that were true.
telling her he had a fucked up childhood isn't necessarily his whole life story. most guys had shitty childhoods lbr
but he opened up!!!!! fuck buddies don't do that.
exactly
i wish you guys were here :(
i'm honestly 5 secs away from booking a flight to texas bestie. gotta use my dad's frequent flier miles somehow.
--
"My friend Tasha is coming to visit this weekend," you tell your mom on Wednesday evening with a smile, turning your phone toward her to show the Airbnb you'll be staying at, "We're gonna stay at this little bungalow, have a girls' weekend."
Her brow furrows, "Why can't Tasha stay here?"
Because Tasha would terrify you, you want to say, because Tasha doesn't wear pants unless absolutely necessary. Instead you just smile again and say, "I think a change of scenery would be good for me, it'll be like a mini vacation. Plus there's a hot tub."
"Now that's something we need," she turns back to her book with a shake of her head, "I swear, your father is more interested in buying that boat we'll never use instead of something new for the backyard." You hadn't been asking for her permission, but her indifference sends a wave of relief through you; you've still been trying to be on your absolute best behavior lately to make up for the lies.
You head out to the backyard and seat yourself in a lounge chair by the pool, unlocking your phone again and swiping to your last conversation with Joel from last night.
hope you had a good day :)
I'm sure yours was better. Sleep well x
Curt and to the point, not at all what you'd wanted him to reply with. You recall one of your first phone conversations, the one where you'd been experiencing the same lack of interest in his texts, what he'd said to you: Don't think for one second that I don't think about you. But how can you not? How are you supposed to feel desired when he's being like this?
can you call me tonight?
You try not to wait too long before biting the bullet, not wanting to talk yourself out of it, but you do stare at the message with your finger hovering over the send button for longer than you really need to. The sound of the back door sliding open forces you to send it, locking your phone again as your mother walks over and seats herself beside you in another chair.
"It's nice to see you wearing that again," she says with a nod to your chest, referring to your crucifix - after wearing it again last weekend you'd thought that keeping it on might please her. "You're starting to really settle in here again, aren't you?"
You try not to grimace, "Yeah, it's nice being home."
She leans back in her chair, letting the suns rays hit her for a little bit without speaking. You sit there waiting for her to say something else, discomfort flooding through you. You're reminded of how easy it was to sit with Joel in his backyard last weekend, how little pressure there was to put up any kind of front - sitting here with your mother is the exact opposite.
"So, you lied to me," she finally says, voice quiet.
Your eyes widen and you sit up a bit, turning to her with panic already rising in your throat, "Wh-what do you mean?"
She doesn't turn to look at you, continuing to stare at the sky, eyes covered by her comically large sunglasses, "You know what I mean."
You sit there, staring at her with a mix of confusion and fear. There's no way she knows about Joel, how could she know? Who would have told her? You wonder if perhaps one of her neighborhood friends saw you leaving his house, saw you in his car... but the guise of lessons is your cover now, so how would any of that point to your relationship?
Some relationship, you can't help but think to yourself, based entirely on sex and only communication on the weekends.
"Bethany and Alice," your mom finally states, and you feel the panic in the pit of your stomach loosen immediately - oh.
"Mom," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I-I know. I'm sorry. I know I told you we met up but..." you bite your lip, trying to come up with some kind of excuse but coming up empty.
Instead, you do something that surprises you entirely - you tell the truth. Or at least... half of it.
"I really feel like my friendship with them has passed," you admit with a frown, "I'm... I'm different than I was when I left, you know that, don't you? I'm sure you've noticed."
She's still not looking at you but you catch her nodding slowly, thoughtfully.
"I'm sorry I lied but... I didn't want to disappoint you. And I didn't want you to worry about me being alone all the time. I'm actually rarely ever alone at college so it's been nice to have some time to myself," you smile, thinking of the girls in your group chat constantly waiting for new updates, "Having lunch with two people I haven't talked to in years just... didn't seem appealing to me. I have different friends now, you know? I'm older, people outgrow each other."
"Friends like Tasha," your mom states, bitterness in her voice, "Tasha who you don't even want me to meet."
You make a face, "Mom..."
She puts her hands up in defeat, shaking her head, "It's fine. You can do what you want and so can she," the words are drenched in judgement, "But you should remember that there are rules for staying here, young lady. And honesty is one of those rules."
You take a deep breath, swinging your legs around the edge of the chair and placing your arms on your knees, your face in your hands. You're so close to snapping back at her, making a comment that'll surely start an argument, but you shove it back down as best you can, counting to ten in your head.
"I'm sorry," you finally say through gritted teeth, "It won't happen again."
"It better not." She stands up then, disappears from the chair as quickly as she'd settled in it. You watch as she walks to the back door again, reaches for the handle.
Your mouth can't stop itself.
"Have you told Dad about my guitar lessons yet?"
She freezes, turns and stares at you for a moment without saying anything, then opens the door and heads back inside, slamming it behind her.
Checkmate.
--
I will when I get home.
Your anxiety is through the roof as you pace back and forth in your bedroom after darkness has fallen, freshly showered and pampered and already out of distractions. Without really thinking much about it, you pull Joel's flannel from under your mattress and wrap it around your shoulders, breathing him in as you sit on your bed and try your best not to keep checking your phone. When it finally vibrates you're not even embarrassed when you pick up on the first ring.
"Hey," you murmur, settling into your sheets and closing your eyes, "Is everything okay?"
"With me?" he asks, voice tired and gruff, "Thought it'd be the other way around."
Your brow furrows, "What do you mean?"
"Thought you'd wanna talk about this church volunteerin' stuff," he's moving around as he talks - you hear the sound of a cupboard banging and the clang of a glass against a countertop.
You don't speak for a moment, listening to the sound of liquid being poured into a cup and Joel taking a swig. There's no sound of the tap - you'd be willing to bet that it's not water he's drinking.
"No, I..." you frown, "I was worried about you."
You hear him take another sip, swallowing loudly and then placing the cup back down with a clink. More pouring. You swear you hear the faint sound of a chuckle before he takes another swig.
"Well that's silly," he states, and you suddenly notice there's a strange difference in his voice, a heaviness you're not used to.
"Are you drunk?"
He chuckles again but there's no humor in it, "Nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be."
You frown, readjusting yourself against the pillows. You hear him take another sip, "Did something happen?"
He sighs then, deep and tired. You hear him put the glass back down on the counter, "No, babygirl, nothin' happened," hearing him say your pet name makes you feel a little better, the anxiety ebbing away a bit, "It's just that my job is the bane of my fuckin' existence."
He sounds genuinely exhausted, words tinged with resentment. You pull his flannel tighter around yourself, breathe him in, pretend you're in the same room as him, "Talk to me," you say softly, "Tell me what's wrong."
He doesn't reply for a moment - you can make out some footsteps on the other end, the creak of his stairs as he goes up to his bedroom, "No, darlin', it's nothin'. Shouldn't be talkin' about this with you."
"Hey, if something's bothering you, I wanna hear about it. I wanna make it better... if I can."
You hear him settle onto his bed, a satisfied little noise emanating from his throat that makes you smile, "That's the thing, babygirl. You can't. This is just the way life works. You do shit you hate and then you die, plain and simple."
"Joel," you admonish quietly - it's the first time you've said his name aloud since last weekend, it feels right on your lips, safe. He sighs but doesn't say anything else, breath evening out in your ear. "What is it? Really? I've been worrying about it all week."
"Oh honey," he murmurs softly. "Shouldn't be worryin' about me, there are more important things."
"Not to me," you admit, closing your eyes and shaking your head even though he can't see you, "First I thought maybe you were just busy, but-"
"Busy," he scoffs, "Right, yeah, busy. That's my middle name at this point. Fuckin' busy."
He really doesn't sound like himself - you know you still don't know him very well at this point, could be wrong about so many things, but part of you just knows that this isn't Joel. You know his softness, his safety, his kind eyes and crooked smile. This version of him sounds so sad; you can't help but wish you were in his bed right now, able to hold him close and run your fingers through his grey curls. You want him to open up to you.
"You don't wanna hear this shit, angel, you don't," he continues, voice gentler this time, "I know you're thinkin' somethin' is wrong, thinkin' somethin' in particular happened to make me feel like this, but the truth is..." he sighs again, deliberates for a moment and then simply states, "Truth is I'm just bein' stupid."
"You're not stupid," you say immediately, and he chuckles.
"God, you're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "It's nice to hear your voice."
Your feel your skin heat up at the words, crossing your legs together unconsciously, "It's nice to hear yours too," you whisper with a smile, "I've missed you this week. Every time you've texted me it's felt like it's not really you."
"I'm sorry, baby," you can hear the sincerity in his voice buried underneath the tiredness and alcohol, "I'm just... I'm a mess." You hear him shuffle a bit in bed, like he's turning onto his side, "Work is always puttin' me in a shitty mood lately and I just...I don't want you to see this side of me."
"But why?"
Another sigh, then-
"'Cause I don't want you to look at me differently."
You bring the sleeve of his flannel to your lips, "I could never look at you differently, Joel," you whisper, "Promise."
He's quiet for a moment and you hope you haven't upset him, hope he's just thinking about what to say. You mean your words; it really would take a lot for you to look at him differently. You know you probably shouldn't feel that way considering you've known him less than a month, that the feeling should scare you... but it doesn't.
"I'm tired, angel," he finally says, voice sad and distant, "I'm too old to be doin' this job."
You wait for him to speak again, listening as he takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line, almost like he hasn't told anyone this. And maybe he hasn't.
"But it's hard to admit that to myself," he continues, "And even harder to admit it to you of all people. I don't want you to see some washed up, tired, old geezer, ya know?" he says it with humor but you can tell that he means it, "I mean I used to... god, I used to be able to do shifts like this no problem. Be up at five and home by midnight and able to do it all over again the next day. Now it's like I'm runnin' on a half empty tank of gas. Got no joy in this job anymore and my back is killin' me and-" he cuts himself off suddenly, "And I need to shut the fuck up before I scare you away."
"You're not gonna scare me away," you whisper, and you mean it, "I'm not going anywhere."
He laughs softly to himself; you're not sure if he believes you, but you're choosing to hope that he does, "Ya know, I didn't even wanna tell you my age when we were first together? I wasn't gonna tell you, I really wasn't. But then you were so sweet and vulnerable and honest with me-"
You scoff, "Yeah, lying about knowing how to play guitar, that's certainly honesty."
"That's not what I mean and you know it," he chastises - you can hear the sudden smile in his voice, "No, darlin'... when you told me you hadn't done anythin' before. That's when I knew I had to tell you, 'cause it wouldn't have been right otherwise," he makes an odd noise in his throat and then corrects, "Not that any of this is really right, but..."
"It feels right," you say softly, staring down at the plaid lines on the flannel shirt shrouding your body, reminding you of what it means - that you're his.
"It does," he agrees, voice rough and low, "Right and wrong in all the right ways, huh babygirl?"
You nod to yourself, unable to help the grin that spreads across your face, "Exactly."
The both of you are silent for a few moments but just like last weekend, it isn't uncomfortable or awkward. It's calming and safe, just listening to each other's breathing. You can tell he's tired, can hear it in his slow exhales; again, you can't help but wish you were lying beside him. And you can't help but wonder if a more sober Joel would have even said any of this to you, would have just kept it to himself and continued to deal with it in silence, not bothering to tell anyone how he's been feeling. It breaks your heart a little bit.
"It'll be okay," you whisper gently, soothingly, "It won't be like this forever, Joel."
He sighs, deep and sleepy, "You really are an angel," he murmurs, "So sweet and lovely, babygirl. Love hearin' you say my name like that."
His words send warmth throughout your body - no one has ever spoken to you the way Joel speaks to you, makes you feel the way he makes you feel. You close your eyes and bury your face in the sleeve of his flannel, listen as his breathing gets slow again.
"You should get some sleep," you whisper, even though you really don't want to end the call - but Joel is tired and you want him to feel better, "Text me tomorrow, okay? Even if you're grumpy."
He almost laughs but he's so close to sleep that it comes out slurred and low, "Okay, baby, I will. Promise."
"Goodnight, J-"
"Wait wait wait," he suddenly sounds a bit more alert, rousing himself from sleep, "You didn't tell me 'bout this church thing. You okay with it?"
You giggle at his sudden concern, "It's nothing, really. Just helping an old friend out with lesson plans for Sunday School. Not very exciting."
"Fun," his voice is sleepy and low again, "What're you gonna wear?"
You have to bite down on your lip to stifle another laugh, shaking your head even though he can't see you, "Go to bed, you perv."
He chuckles, "Okay, okay. Goodnight, angel."
"Goodnight, Joel."
You're about to end the call when you hear him murmur one final thing, so soft you're surprised you can even make it out - but you do:
"Hope I dream about you."
You fall asleep with a smile glued to your lips.
--
You end up wearing the same outfit you'd worn to Joel's last Saturday, though you leave the stockings at home; you doubt the women at church will be offended by your bare legs. You fasten your crucifix around your neck and make sure your mom gets a good look at you before you leave the house; you haven't spoken since yesterday afternoon but you still want her to see you're putting in some effort, as surface level as it may be.
She's in the living room when you come down the stairs, and her expression can't help but turn to one of surprise when she looks up from her book to see you standing there in your Sunday best.
"I'm going to the church," you explain softly, "Gonna help out Bethany with the lesson plan for Sunday School."
She assesses you up and down, eyes fixing on your crucifix for a moment before trailing back down to her book. She doesn't say a word.
Silent treatment. Typical.
Fifteen minutes later you find yourself being greeted by Bethany, blonde hair flowing down her dress as she stands outside the church with a bright smile plastered on her face. You recognize the forced expression immediately, one that you yourself have become an expert in feigning, though for different reasons. You haven't seen her in years but you still know her well enough to tell when she's less than thrilled about something - this time that "something" is you being there.
"I'm so excited you're here!" she tells you, voice shrill as she immediately takes a step forward to envelop you in a haphazard hug that feels neither excited nor genuine.
You should have known it would be like this. When you'd left for college a few years ago you'd promised to keep in touch with both Alice and Bethany, the only "solid" friends you'd managed to keep throughout all the studying, the tutoring, the church services, the extracurriculars, volunteering, etc. It's a miracle in itself that your friendship had even lasted through high school, if you're being honest. You'd begun to distance yourself from them a bit in those final years as you started to lose your faith while theirs only seemed to grow stronger. Leaving for college had been the last nail in the coffin.
"Me too!" you lie, feigning a similar smile as you both pull back from each other.
Though her grin is unrelenting, you can see the distance in her eyes, the sourness and disdain for your presence extremely evident. She doesn't like you. There's an awkward few seconds of silence where she assesses you up and down again, like she had at the service on Sunday.
Why did you even say yes to me coming here? You want to ask as you stand in front of her awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. If you didn't want me here you could have just said there wasn't anything for me to do. But you already know why you'd still been invited despite her obvious disdain for you - keeping up appearances means everything to these people; actually being honest about her feelings would have been disastrous for her reputation.
"Was sure you'd forgotten all about me," she finally says with an edge of malice still shrouded through her smile, "Haven't heard from you in what? Three years? And then you just show up outta the blue, huh?"
You grimace, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. There was... I mean, I've just had a lot going on, I guess." You kick your feet awkwardly; this is not the conversation you want to be having right now.
"A lot goin' on, huh?" she echoes, eyes still scanning you up and down, "Right. Busy with college?"
You nod quickly, "Yeah, it's been kinda crazy."
She raises an eyebrow, "What are you studyin' again?"
"English Lit."
She snorts then, shaking her head and taking a step back, "Right. Reading. Sure sounds crazy."
Your brow furrows, "It's more than that."
"Oh, I'm sure it is," she puts her hands up in defense, fake laughing and smacking her lips together, "Just find it funny that an English Lit degree takes up so much of your time." She's being pretty bold with the sarcasm but you suppose she has a right to be angry, though you'd never assumed she'd be this pissed about you cutting her off, "Anyway, we should get inside, they're waitin' for us."
"Bethany," you take a step toward her, softening your expression, "I'm really sorry."
She just shakes her head again and turns away from you to reach for the handle on the front door, forced smile finally fading into a natural frown, "Forget it."
Great start.
You don't talk much after that, not after you're led into a side room off the chapel where a few other women are sitting in a circle with binders in their laps. Bethany simply gestures for you sit down in an empty chair and the meeting begins. Everyone immediately begins their rapport, discussing their plans and reading quotes aloud from their binders while you just kind of sit there unsure of what to do or say. A few of the women give you a tentative smile or two, but the way Bethany periodically glares at you is enough to keep them from actually speaking to you directly. You're okay with it though; as awkward as this is, you'd rather sit in silence than have to pretend. Still, if you'd known it would be like this you never would have come - it's not like your mother appreciates it anyway.
Your phone vibrates at one point, a text from Tasha confirming her flight information with lots of !!!!!!'s that make you smile. As if sensing your sudden mood shift, Bethany puts her hands up with another grin that doesn't reach her eyes.
"We keep phones in our purses" she says sweetly, "So we don't get distracted."
You nod and slip it back inside your bag, a gesture that's more of a peace offering than anything else; it seems to appease her.
It's strange being inside this part of the church again after so long. You'd attended your own Sunday School lessons here, prepped for choir and readings, learned your scripture. It certainly doesn't feel as safe or inviting as it once did, though you have to admit that there was always an undercurrent of pressure, of judgement - an energy that still remains today. Bethany watches you closely, quietly assessing you as you nod along to everyone's suggestions and ideas and try to keep up your long-time façade of obedience. You push down the new parts of you that long to take back a bit of control, maybe say something shocking or suggest something ridiculous just to see how they'd react.
You've been sitting in silence for about forty five minutes when Bethany announces its time for a quick phone break. Like clockwork everyone in the room pulls out their devices and starts checking for missed calls from their kids, their husbands. You pull yours out and your eyebrows go up in surprise when you see a text from Joel on your lockscreen:
How's your day going angel?
He didn't forget his promise. A smile plays at your lips as you start typing out your reply, but it quickly fades when you feel Bethany's eyes on you, watching.
"I'm, uh-" you stand up, smoothing out the creases in your dress and gripping your phone tightly, "I'm gonna take a bathroom break."
--
The bathroom is the same as you remember it, high ceilings and white walls, your footsteps echoing loudly as you walk over to the sinks and lean your back against the countertop. You continue typing out your reply to Joel:
well all the church ladies are giving me the silent treatment til i'm worthy of being here again lol. but jokes on them cause my mom is also giving me the silent treatment so i have training! anyway i miss you. wanna hug you. hope you're feeling a bit better today 💕
You turn around and face the mirror while you wait for his reply. You're still smiling - it's impossible not to when you're thinking about Joel, but this smile is bright and genuine, unlike the forced grins you've been sharing with Bethany for the past hour. God, you can't remember the last time anything made you feel as free and happy as Joel makes you, like nothing else really matters. Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the mirror to read his reply:
Aw baby I'm sorry. I wanna hug you too. Wanna do a bit more than hug if I'm being honest, but you know that already.
You bring your other hand up to your mouth, smiling even wider into it as his typing bubble pops up again only seconds later:
And I'm sorry about last night. If I said anything stupid please forget it ever happened. Me and alcohol don't mix that well sometimes. I'm alright, don't worry about me x
But I do worry, you want to say, I want to make you feel better. But how can you do that from a church bathroom, miles away from wherever he is right now? You're suddenly reminded of something he'd told you a few weeks ago, something you hadn't quite understood in the moment - You can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures.
Oh.
You look at yourself in the mirror again and carefully place your phone down on the edge of the sink. Your hand slowly comes up to push aside the collar of your dress, pull the stretchy material past your shoulder and down your arm. You do the same to the other side, slipping out of your sleeves and tugging down the high neckline of your dress to expose your bare chest to the mirror, putting your cleavage on display. You bite your lip, willing yourself to see what Joel sees, a pretty girl in a pretty dress, bra straps clinging to her skin and a crucifix hanging from her throat. Filthy.
You grab your phone and turn it toward the mirror, opening up your camera app and moving it close enough so he can see only your torso, sleeves hanging limp at your sides while your other arm comes up to squeeze your breasts together a bit, accentuating your cleavage even more. You snap a pic and send it to him before you can talk yourself out of it.
He replies seconds later:
Fuck
A grin spreads across your face and you make quick work of slipping your bra straps down your shoulders as well, just as another text from him comes in:
Send me another baby. Please.
Already one step ahead of you, you think to yourself as your cheeks warm and you pull down the cups of your bra, your breasts spilling out into the cool air of the bathroom. You squeeze them together again, nipples hardening tightly as you take another picture and send it along with a coy message:
better?
He must be staring at his phone, waiting for it, because his typing bubble appears instantaneously. You can't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you're holding right now, a change of pace from your usual naivety.
Oh babygirl. This is just what I needed.
i know :)
You glance at the bathroom door and then at the time - you still have a few minutes before the meeting starts up again and your mind is already racing with what you can do with those few minutes. With barely any hesitation you tug your dress up over your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and aiming your phone underneath. You frown when you pull your phone back up to find that it's dark and blurry.
"Hold on," you whisper to no one, then carefully lift your leg and place your heel on the countertop for support, pulling your dress up again and aiming your phone a little better. You pull back your panties and aren't surprised in the slightest to feel that they're suddenly damp.
This picture comes out much better. Your pussy is bare and a little wet, clit poking out past your lips, panties pulled against your inner thigh. You already know it's gonna make him crazy as you hit send.
Jesus Christ
He's already typing something else when you receive it and you can't help but giggle, covering your mouth and trying to picture where he is right now, what he's doing. Is he in a bathroom too? On a break? Or is he in the middle of a job, surrounded by other people? The latter thought makes you even wetter somehow.
Fuck you have such a pretty pussy baby.
thank you mr. miller :)
Will you hold her open a little for me? Show me that sweet little hole?
Who are you to deny such a request? With heat radiating all over your body you bring your phone down again and scissor your lips apart, exposing the innermost part of yourself to your phone camera. You can feel your own slick on the tips of your fingers, and when you push yourself open you feel a bit of your wetness dribble down onto your palm. Fuck. This is hotter than you'd expected it would be. You'd thought it would be a good way to make him feel better, get him through his work day like he'd said; you never thought you'd enjoy it this much.
Oh sweetheart. Look at that.
You feel another rush of pride as you take your leg down from the counter and tug your dress back down, rubbing your thighs together and doing everything in your power not to touch yourself again even though you want to. A quiet whimper unconsciously tears itself past your lips at his follow-up message:
Who's that perfect pussy belong to babygirl?
You've never typed a message back so fast in your life.
you. it's yours mr. miller.
That's right. Good girl.
Your skin is on fire, body tingling in all the right places. You smooth a hand down your bare chest, cup one of your breasts, gently squeeze. It's impossible for your eyes not to roll back a bit when you imagine Joel's hand on you instead, big and firm and callused and perfect. Your pussy throbs in your underwear and another whimper slips past your lips.
i'm really wet now :(
I know angel. Come over tonight and I'll take care of it, Ok?
Your heart leaps at the invitation, even more wetness pooling in your panties at the thought of what Joel might want to do tonight, if there's another “lesson” he has in mind.
yes please
Eyeing the time again, you bite your lip in disappointment when you realize you should probably be getting back. You wait until Joel has finished typing his final response, a message that makes your skin burn with anticipation:
Don't touch yourself til you see me. Keep that soft little pussy hidden, baby. Promise me.
i promise x
Just as you hit send you suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps down the hall, quickly approaching the bathroom. Your eyes widen in the mirror, gaze snapping to your bare breasts, sleeves still hanging loosely at your sides. In a panic you hurriedly attempt to stuff yourself back into your bra before you have company – but you're not that lucky.
The bathroom door bangs open and you freeze with one arm halfway through your sleeve, breasts still completely exposed in the mirror as you turn on the spot to see none other than Bethany standing there, frozen in place.
“I-” she looks flabbergasted, expression one of pure horror as she takes a step back from you and grips the knob of the door like she could rip it off at any moment. Your free arm that isn't trapped in a sleeve comes up to cover yourself as best you can, but you know she's already seen everything.
“I'm- I was just-” You're similarly taken aback and at a complete loss for words, unsure how the fuck you can explain what exactly she's just walked in on.
Her eyes fall to the phone in your hand, like she's putting the pieces together, then she shakily takes another step back and leaves without saying another word, the click of her heels echoing back at you loudly until the door finishes closing behind her.
Shit.
You don't have time to stand around thinking up an excuse; you do briefly consider escaping through one of the windows to avoid facing her, but you know it would just delay the inevitable. Instead you hastily finish pulling your dress back on and stare at yourself in the mirror for one final moment.
Your smile is gone. So is the light in your eyes. You suddenly begin to feel that familiar sense of guilt creeping in, the shame, the sin. You blink a few times and find that there are tears welling up in your eyes, a lump in your throat. A tiny voice in the back of your mind, one you've been attempting to mute for years, whispers to you: What have you done?
--
Bethany doesn't speak to or look at you for the rest of the meeting. It's not much of a change from before you'd gone to the bathroom, but there's something new in her silence now, something you can see in her eyes as she stares down at her binder while the other women talk. Fear. You've known her for most of your life, can sense certain mood changes from a mile away; you've frightened her. And somehow that just adds even more to the guilt building in your stomach.
You'll apologize to her after the meeting, it's all you can do. You genuinely feel horrible that she'd walked in on something so private, seen something she never intended or desired to ever see. You wonder if there's anything you can use to pass off as an excuse; maybe you spilled something on your dress and were cleaning it off? Maybe it was too tight and you needed a breather? Anything is better than the alternative – the truth – but you somehow doubt she'll believe anything you say at this point. That bridge was broken the second you left for college; there's no repairing it now.
The meeting ends with a few pleasantries exchanged and several comments about picking kids up from school, getting home to cook something for dinner, normal things that remind you how abnormal your own situation is in comparison. Half an hour ago you'd felt on top of the world, in control, had power in the tips of your fingers. Now you just feel small again, inconsequential.
You wait until the other ladies have left before taking a step toward Bethany, ready to unload your apologies and beg for forgiveness. She surprises you by speaking first.
"I'd think twice before wearing that again,” she hisses at you, venomous and pointed. Your eyes widen.
"Excuse me?"
"I said,” her words are slow and full of bitter intention, eyes glaring daggers at you, “I'd think twice before wearing that again" she gestures to the crucifix around your neck and you unconsciously reach up to take it between your fingers, glancing down at it before looking back up to meet her angry gaze.
“I'm...” you feel overwhelmed, tears pricking in your eyes again at the sudden burst of rage being directed at you, “I don't...”
"You might not understand this,” she practically spits through her teeth, “but that symbol actually means something to the people here."
"I know what it means.” It comes out as barely a whisper, voice shaky as she takes an intimidating step toward you with nothing but malice in her expression.
"So that's why you've got your breasts out in a public bathroom? A church bathroom?”
“Bethany, I-”
“You're not welcome here anymore, understand?” her voice is full of finality, “You can come to church with your parents-” The mention of your parents sends your anxiety into a tailspin, heart beating frantically in your chest as she continues to step closer and closer toward you, “And you can pretend you're their good little girl. But I know the truth. And it's not welcome in my Sunday School ever again. Got it?”
My Sunday school. The superiority complex is strong and you know deep down that this is all completely rooted in her own fears, her own desires, her pride, but none of that seems to matter when she's staring you down like this, holding you captive with her hostile words.
"Got it,” you whisper, nodding shakily.
"Good. Now go home and take," she points toward the crucifix, the tip of her finger close enough to faintly brush against the shape of it, “that,” she suddenly prods it, giving you one final sneer, “off.”
It takes you twenty minutes to leave the parking lot after that, tears blurring your vision as you cry in your car and try not to let the shame completely envelop you.
--
Going to Joel's that night carries none of the anticipation you'd felt earlier this afternoon; instead you feel nothing but shame as you steal your mother's house key from its dish in the hallway, closing the front door behind you as softly as you can and hurrying out into the night. There's no excitement or rush like the last time you'd done this. You feel like you could cry at any moment as you approach Joel's house, climbing his front steps with a heavy weight on your shoulders that wasn't there before, that hasn't been there in weeks.
The door opens before you can even turn the knob – he must have been watching from his window, waiting for you in anticipation for tonight's “lesson”. Your stomach lurches.
“There's my little Sunday School girl,” he murmurs, taking your hand and tugging you gently inside.
“Please don't call me that,” you say quietly, head down.
He shuts the door behind you and takes your hands in his – you can feel his eyes on you but you're unsure of the look on his face, what expression is on it. Does he sense there's something wrong? Or is he waiting for you to jump his bones?
“Hey,” his voice is soft, concerned, “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”
You shake your head, still staring at the floor.
“What happened, babygirl?” he murmurs, one of his hands releasing yours to come up and stroke your cheek gently, thumb grazing the wetness beneath your eyes, “Why're you cryin', darlin'? C'mere.” His finger travels down to your chin, pushes your face up to look at him.
His expression is worried, brow furrowed and forehead creased, a frown playing at his lips. You feel your heartbeat slow, the weight on your shoulders decreasing just a little bit as safety settles in your bones. He cares.
“I had a horrible day,” you whisper, feeling tears trickle down into the corners of your mouth, “I know you want to...want to...” you shake your head, “Whatever we were gonna do. But I don't think I can tonight, Joel. I don't feel good.”
“Oh, babygirl,” he breathes, releasing your chin and immediately wrapping you up in his embrace, arms tightening around you as he pulls you against his chest, “We don't have to do anythin', don't even worry about that.”
You bury your face in his chest, breathe him in. His flannel underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, the real smell of him overtaking your senses and filling you with a true feeling of warmth and safety. His arms are so big – he's so big – and without meaning to you find yourself going completely limp in his arms, bones turning to jelly. It's like finally breathing in the fresh air after holding your breath underwater, a natural reaction to finally being where you belong.
He doesn't question your body's response, almost seems to understand completely as he pulls you up from the floor and adjusts you slightly to cradle you in his arms, carrying you past the living room, past the kitchen, up the stairs and to his bedroom. You just close your eyes and bury your face in his shirt, inhale the scent of sawdust and sweat and cedar and Joel.
He tips you gently onto his bed, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you without saying anything. You feel his arm wrap around you, tug you in closer beside him as he noses your hair and lets you just exist.
Minutes pass before you finally break the comfortable silence, voice quiet and small - “I feel so ashamed.”
You feel his brow furrow in your hair and you turn around to face him, bringing your arm up around his torso and pressing your hand firmly against his back. He looks at you with confusion, concern.
You tell him everything. About Bethany, your friendship with her and Alice before you left for college, the way you'd already begun to lose your faith even then. You tell him about your mom, about the silent treatment and her reaction to the white lie, the lie that's practically nothing in the grand scheme of deceit you've been weaving these past few weeks. You talk about church and Sunday School and all the guilt you'd felt in that little room growing up, how being there again felt wrong and uncomfortable. You tell him how free you'd felt in the bathroom with your camera, the power you'd felt, reclaimed, and how all of it had been snatched away from you the second Bethany had entered. How she'd destroyed any semblance of confidence you'd been able to find today, how she'd shamed you for the crucifix that you don't even want to be wearing. It's the most you've ever told him, the most you've ever talked to him about anything.
And he listens.
He doesn't seem put out by your venting, annoyed or irritated or ready to send you home at any minute. He just nods, frowns at the right moments, strokes your arm and your cheek, kisses your forehead when you start to cry. Wipes the tears away when you apologize for crying. He stays with you and remains present and attentive, lets you talk and talk until you start to apologize for how much you've been talking.
“I know this isn't even what you signed up for,” you blubber, shaking your head and bringing your hands up to cover your face, “I'm sorry I keep bringing so much- so many complications into your life.”
“Shh,” he soothes, placing his large hands on yours and pulling them away from your tired eyes, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, “Stop apologizin', baby. Stop. You've got nothin' to be sorry for.”
You suddenly sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and bringing a hand up to touch the crucifix still clasped around your neck. You hadn't taken it off like she'd told you to do; you'd felt like doing so would have made you weak, would have been like giving up, even though you'd never wanted to even wear it again in the first place.
“Why does this little thing have so much fucking power over me?” you ask aloud, not directed at Joel but more-so to yourself, “My whole life, no one has ever seen me, they've just seen this.” You shake your head, squeezing the tiny cross in your hand. “And wearing it again has just brought all that shit back, it's done absolutely nothing good. Wore it for my mom and she still gives me the silent treatment. Wore it for Bethany and she still treats me like garbage, tells me to take it off. It's just a fucking necklace.”
Joel sits up beside you, places a warm hand on your thigh and peers at you with those soft brown eyes, lulling you back into a sense of calm, of serenity.
“Give it to me,” he says quietly.
Your brow furrows in confusion. You stare at him for a moment, then watch as he carefully brings his hands up to graze his callused fingertips against your neck, brushing the chain.
“I'll take it off your hands for a bit,” he murmurs, “Outta sight, outta mind. And if you want it back, I'll have it ready for you. How's that sound?”
You nod slowly to yourself, feeling your eyes begin to sting again at his words, “...Good. Th-that sounds good.”
Without saying anything else you hear the sound of the clasp being undone, feel the chain slip away from your skin as Joel takes it from you. You turn your head to watch as he fists it in his palm for a moment, gaze thoughtful and faraway as he traces the shape of the cross with his thumb. A few seconds later he opens his bedside table and carefully places it inside, then shuts the drawer.
And just like that, the weight is gone.
--
You take a shower in his bathroom again, wanting to wash this day off you and start over, clean slate. You could have had one when you got home from the meeting earlier but you'd instead opted to just lay in bed feeling sorry for yourself for much longer than you'd needed to. Now you close your eyes and let the hot water envelop you, wash yourself with Joel's body wash and allow yourself to become his again, picturing him laying in his bed in the other room, waiting for you. This is what matters. This moment. Right now.
You enter his bedroom wrapped in one of his towels, drops of water still spilling down your skin onto the hardwood floor. He's sitting up in bed, shirtless with his legs hidden under the covers. He's seemingly deep in thought as he stares at his phone screen, brows scrunched together. You watch as he pulls the phone away from himself, eyes squinting and lips parting a bit, then pulls it back, like he can't see what he's looking at properly. You realize that's probably the case.
“You need glasses,” you say with a soft giggle, and his expression relaxes when he sees you standing there, phone going back on his nightstand.
“I have glasses,” he admits sheepishly, giving you a tender smile, “Just hate wearin' 'em.”
“Of course,” you roll your eyes and take a few steps forward, still gripping the towel around yourself. His eyes fall to the parts of you that are bare, revelling in the way the lamplight reflects on your wet skin. You feel tingles erupt through your senses under his gaze.
“Are you naked?” you ask softly.
He shakes his head, “Wearin' pants, don't worry.”
You stand there for a moment, staring. He just stares back, eyebrows going up a bit while he waits for you to say something else. When you don't, he tilts his head slightly, appraising you.
“Do you want me to be naked, babygirl?”
You're answering before you even really know what you want, "Yes."
Without needing to be told twice he reaches under the covers with both hands and shimmies his way out of his pajama bottoms, staying hidden under the sheets as he tosses them out onto the floor. You bite your lip, still just standing there staring at him without moving. You're still dripping everywhere, a little puddle of water forming at your feet the longer you stay frozen.
He raises his finger and playfully curls it toward himself with a smile, "C'mere, baby," he murmurs, "Be naked with me."
You don't need telling twice either.
The towel drops from your body, landing in the puddle of water on the floor - easy cleanup. You feel heat radiating through every inch of your bare skin as you walk toward the bed, avoiding Joel's eyes and quickly slipping in beside him. You really don't know what you're doing - you'd said when you got here that you didn't want to do anything, not tonight, and it's still true. But part of you just aches to be close to Joel, to feel his warm heat, his rough skin, be connected to him somehow. It's what you've wanted all week.
You inch in beside him, back against the headboard, your bare thigh touching his lightly beneath the sheets, and you find yourself tensing up unconsciously. He clocks your reaction immediately.
"You don't gotta be nervous, angel," he tells you softly, soothingly.
You swallow and take a deep breath, "It's hard not to be," you whisper, though there's no reason to, "I'm just... I'm so..."
"What?" he asks, brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light. His hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb swiping beneath your eye again like he's checking for more tears - luckily you're feeling much better in that department.
You sigh, shrugging slightly, "I don't know what I'm doing," your eyes fall down to the duvet, knowing that if you pulled it back you'd see your bodies touching underneath, his rough and tan skin pressed against yours, soft and untouched, "I mean, I don't even know why I came tonight. I knew I didn't- that I didn't want to-" you sigh again in frustration, unable to find the right words, "I just... I missed you," your eyes travel back up to meet his, "I just wanted to be near you."
His expression softens, still stroking your cheek as he peers into your eyes, "You feel safe with me, don't you?" You nod. "You know I won't do anythin' you don't want me to do, right?" Another nod. "So it's okay to just relax when you're with me."
You grimace, "How can I relax when we're naked in bed together?"
He chuckles, dropping his hand from your face and shuffling down into the bed a bit, away from the headboard, "Okay, time for another lesson."
You feel your heart sink again, worried that he's not understanding - probably because you can't explain it right - but he smiles reassuringly at you and curls his finger slightly, urging you to follow him downwards. With a quiet inhale you slowly inch away from the headboard and further down into the bed, beneath the duvet. You both stop moving when your heads hit the pillows, laying down fully beside each other.
"Gettin' naked doesn't always mean there has to be sex," he says softly, and you watch as he very slowly brings his hand down beneath the duvet; you know where it's going before it touches you, but you still shiver when you feel his fingers brush lightly against your bare arm, "Us bein' naked in bed together doesn't mean anythin' has to happen."
"But earlier today I said..." you trail off, shaking your head, "I promised that-"
"Earlier is earlier," he brushes your arm again, tender and comforting, "Circumstances change, your day got shitty. Mine was no better. It happens."
His hand travels downward, toward the skin of your hip. He curls his palm around your bare flesh and gently massages it, thumb stroking the edge of your tummy. It's intimate and new, but somehow it feels more safe and comforting than sexual, like he's simply doing something casual, normal.
"Sometimes you just wanna lay in bed with someone" he murmurs, still touching you tenderly, "No expectations, no pressure. No nothin'. Sure, it's fun to touch each other and be together like that, but if you just wanna sleep..." his fingertips brush your back gently, then press firmly into your skin as he pulls you a bit closer toward him, "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."
You're not sure what to think, staring at him with a million different thoughts flooding your mind. Your interpretation of what men want has always been a bit of a grey area, but you've heard enough from both your family and your friends to know that most of them are just after one thing. You'd heard it from your parents your whole life who always warned about non-Christian boys and their sinful thoughts, then from the girls at college who dealt with disrespect and catcalls, men who turned on them in an instant the second they realized they weren't getting any.
Joel isn't like that. Sure, he wants sex - that's been obvious since day one, when he'd invited you inside his house within minutes of meeting you. He'd only had one thing on his mind, just like your parents had always said. But he hadn't thrown a fit when you'd said no, and up until this point he's made it abundantly clear that the ball is in your court, that it's up to you what happens between the two of you.
"I know all this stuff can be scary," he continues softly when you don't reply, "I know you're embarrassed about bein' so inexperienced, but you don't need to be. I'm here to make it easier for you; I want you to be comfortable."
He nudges forward a bit and slowly begins to wrap his arms around you, warm and inviting. You let him, body going loose and comfortable in his grasp as you feel your eyes close; safe. You feel so safe.
"You're so warm," is all you can think to say, loving the way it feels to have his broad and hairy chest pressed up against your bare breasts, his big and strong arms winding around your smaller form.
He chuckles softly and you feel him press a gentle kiss to your cheek, beard scratching your skin in your favorite way. You bring your arms up and hug him back beneath the blankets, feeling your naked thighs press firmly against his. You're aware of his cock - it's hard not to be, not when it's pressed gently against the base of your tummy, soft against your skin - but he doesn't rub himself against you or do anything to initiate more than this, more than just being together like he'd said.
He really means it, you know he does.
"I can't wait to have sex with you," you hear yourself whisper in his ear; it sounds dirty but you don't mean it to be, "I just...I'm really glad it's gonna be you."
And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you.
--
You wake up the next morning to a firm and solid presence at your back, bare and warm and comfy. You're surprised you're awake before Joel's alarm, wondering what exactly woke you up in the first place - and then you feel it. Something wet and sticky against your lower back, something pulsing and twitching every so often against your skin.
Good morning.
He hadn't pressed his cock against you like this last night when you were cuddling, hadn't asked you to touch it or even acknowledged its presence. But sleeping Joel is an entirely different person, his big arms wrapped around you tightly, one splayed across your belly while the other holds your right breast, cups it like it's meant to fit there. He holds you in place firmly, breath at your neck, nose in your hair.
You're not sure how much time you have left before his alarm goes off. The sun is only barely starting to come up outside the window, so it could start ringing at any time now. All you know is that the sensation of having him so close to you like this, his most intimate part so close to yours, so wet and warm, it's making you all wet and warm. Your skin almost feels itchy, especially at your neck where his warm breath leaves a damp spot beneath your ear, a spot you're suddenly longing for him to kiss, to lick.
"Joel," you breathe, unable to wait any longer, scared that at any moment he'll have to leave the bed and start getting ready for work.
No response.
"Joel," you repeat, a bit louder this time, and with his name you carefully grind back against him a little bit, the wet head of his cock trailing back and forth against your warm skin. He makes a grumbling noise in his chest, pulls you in a bit closer, "Joel, wake up," you moan, painfully aware of the shape of his balls against your ass, big and heavy and suddenly the hottest thing you've ever felt in your life.
"What?" he groans, rousing from sleep, "What is it?"
It's all the confirmation of awareness you need to suddenly turn in the sheets, bring the duvet down to expose your naked bodies to the both of you. His eyes are bleary and tired as he watches you from beneath heavy eyelids, sees where your gaze has settled.
His cock lays long and thick and loose against his tummy, round tip drooling precum into the hair smattered above his belly button. God, he's so big. Your lips part, saliva filling your mouth like it had the last time you saw it, like somehow your body knows exactly what the next step is.
"I wanna put my mouth on it," you whisper, pushing your hair back behind your ears and turning your gaze back to Joel's face, "Please."
His eyebrows go up in surprise, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. He's probably wondering where this is coming from, how the girl in his bed right now is the same one who just wanted to be held last night, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. He nods quickly, stretches his arms above his head and tries to rouse himself even more from sleep.
"Of course you can, baby," he mutters huskily, voice deep and dripping with arousal, "Go ahead."
"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong," you murmur softly, and before you can even fully process what you're doing or question if you'll even be good at it, your lips are pressing against the warm heat of his wet tip.
He hisses immediately and you pull back, frightened for a moment that you've already fucked up somehow. He shakes his head quickly at you, "No, no, you're good baby, that's good," one of his hands comes down to settle against the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, "Give it a kiss, just like that."
And you do. Time is already not on your side - you feel like there's a countdown clock hanging over your head as you press another kiss in the same spot, his precum sticky on your lips. You'd thought it might be gross, had heard lots about blowjobs from your friends and how unpleasant they can be, but when your tongue darts out to carefully prod against where he's leaking, you find that it doesn't bother you that much at all.
"Tastes funny," you murmur softly, peppering a few more kisses around the wide head and then down to his shaft, thumbing the prominent vein on the underside as you do it.
"Kinda gross, huh?" you hear him say softly above you, a strained edge to his voice that makes you smile against him.
"I think I like it, actually," you admit softly, tongue darting out once again to slowly lap up a bead at the tip. You're not lying; there's something masculine and sexy and inherently Joel about it, something you hadn't been expecting.
"That's good, sweetheart," he murmurs, stroking the back of your head gently, "That's so good, angel." You don't know whether he means your opinion on the taste or simply a reaction to the things you're doing with your tongue, but either way you keep going, hoping that the alarm doesn't interrupt you.
You wrap your lips around the tip carefully, pulling it into your mouth and sucking it gently - very gently. He makes a breathless sound above you and you can't help but bring your gaze up to his face, your eyes meeting his as you swallow him down.
"That's it, that's a good girl," he breathes, thumbing a strand of hair at your temple and pushing it behind your ear, eyes dark, "Look at you."
You swirl your tongue around the tip, still making sure to keep eye contact with him as you carefully slip more of him inside your mouth. He's so big, there's absolutely no way you'll be able to fit all of him inside, at least not without some practice. He doesn't seem to mind that you can only take a little bit of him, his thumb coming downward to stroke gently at the corner of your mouth. He wipes away a bit of drool pooling there, brows furrowing.
"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, nodding slowly to you in reassurance as you very slowly begin to lift your head up and down, up and down, eyes going hazy, "Takin' that cock so well."
His words spur you on, encourage you to take a little bit more. You've got about half of him in your mouth and you already know you won't be able to take anymore, the spongey tip pushing dangerously close to your gag reflex. You absolutely do not want to choke, don't want to ruin this in any way. You want him to feel good. Feel better.
"Oh, honey," he groans softly when you begin to palm his balls, rolling them gently and feeling their fullness, round and heavy, "This mouth," he touches the corner of your lips again, a bit harder this time, trails his fingers downward to grip your chin, "Made to have my cock in there, huh?" his eyes are boring into yours, pupils blown wide, "You like havin' your mouth full like that, babygirl?"
You nod and whimper around his length, speeding up a little bit and never breaking eye contact with him, obsessed with watching his eyes get darker and darker, filling more and more with lust as he watches you pleasure him.
"Yeah, you do," he murmurs, voice soothing again like last night, calm and safe, "What a good girl you are, wakin' me up to suck my cock. Couldn't wait, could ya, baby?" you shake your head and the head of his cock slips past your throat a little too far, so much that you have to pull off him quickly to be sure you don't gag, "Aw, baby, that's okay," he reassures you gently, "It's a lot, I know."
Your eyes are hooded and your jaw is already starting to ache - you're not used to doing something like this and he knows it, strokes your cheek gently as he takes his cock in his hand and carefully pushes the tip against your lips.
"You just kiss it, baby," he whispers, dark and deep, "Kiss that cock 'til I come, okay?"
You do as you're told, lips parting slightly as he rubs the head of his cock against your lips and strokes himself a few more times, bringing himself close to the edge. He's so gorgeous like this, so rugged and almost animalistic as his chest heaves, groans escaping his mouth as he watches your lips. His hand is still in your hair, grip getting tighter and tighter as you lean down a bit so he can gently fuck the tip of his cock back into your mouth. Your eyes close involuntarily and you can feel your pussy throbbing against the mattress with every thrust, lips tight around him.
"Ah, fuck," he grits out suddenly, then pulls his cock away from your mouth and releases all over his chest and stomach, thighs tensing up as you watch his eyes practically roll back into his head. Your eyes are wide and attentive, locked onto the white ropes of come that spurt against his bare skin. You find yourself wondering what it would feel like at the back of your throat instead, on your tongue, what it would taste like...
Your thoughts are interrupted by Joel's alarm going off, loud and obnoxious. Before he can pull himself up to turn it off, you lean over to the nightstand and do it yourself, swiping it off and turning back to his blissed out form. He lies there panting for a moment, eyes closed. You can't help but smile, feeling pride swell in your chest again at the knowledge that you made him feel like this.
"Don't go back to sleep," you whisper softly, "You gotta go to work."
He groans then, but opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile and a wink, expression still sleepy and satisfied, "Who needs an alarm clock when I got you, huh?" He gestures with his finger for you to move closer and you do, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, "Mornin', darlin'," he murmurs against your mouth.
"Morning," you whisper back, and you revel in the smile on his face when you pull away, "Sorry for jumping your bones so early."
He just shakes his head with a wide smile, "Never apologize for jumpin' my bones, baby." His eyes fall to your naked body, settling on your pussy, still wet and aching against the sheets, "Aw, sweetheart, lemme take care of that for you."
You shake your head, pointing to his phone, "We don't have time, you gotta get to work and I gotta get home before my parents wake up," you slip out of bed and reach down to pick up the clothes you'd stripped yourself of last night before your shower. He starts to protest but you put your hand up with a soft laugh, "It's okay, Joel. I wanted to do this for you, start your day out right. Give you a chance at a good day."
He peers up at you from the bed, face smooshed into the pillow as he watches you get dressed, "Doesn't seem fair."
You just roll your eyes, pulling on your panties and shorts and pointing to his phone again, "Really, we need to hurry," you bite your lip as you slip your t-shirt over your head, "I have keys this time but I still don't wanna risk it."
"Okay, okay," he grumbles softly, "I'm goin'."
He slips out of bed and stretches, tilting his body back and forth. You both hear the way his bones crack, the noise that emits from his throat when he bends his back a certain way. You watch his expression change, going from content and sated to embarrassed and grumpy in seconds.
"And just like that, the illusion is gone," he mutters to himself, limping away from the bed and toward the door without so much as a side glance to you, clearly upset by the sudden reminder of his age. You frown, watching him go and feeling an ache in your chest that makes a home there for the rest of the morning.
--
He'd made you breakfast last time, so it's only fair that you make something for him today. Unfortunately cooking has never been your forte, so about fifteen minutes later you're waving a dish rag at the fire alarm while the sausages you'd managed to burn are smoking in the sink. Joel comes running down the stairs after his shower with a look of concern on his face, only for it to fade into one of amusement when he sees the situation.
"Now why am I teachin' you guitar when you clearly don't know how to even use a stove?"
"Oh, shut up," you can't even pretend to be mad at him, grin spreading across your face as you shake your head and breathe a sigh of relief when the alarm stops going off, "Help me clean this up."
You end up making toast instead.
"You know, we've still got about ten minutes," he says across from you at the table as you eat, peering down at his watch quickly.
"Yeah, 'cause I fail as a cook," you mutter, making a face at your slice of toast, "I was gonna do eggs too, you know."
"Let's not reach for the stars too quickly now," he says with a sly smile, putting his hand up quickly when you prepare to retort, "Anyway, that's not what I meant."
"What did you-" you look up from your toast and see him beckoning you toward him again like he had last night, finger curling toward himself with a sly smile on his face.
You look at the clock on the oven, biting your lip.
"It'll take five minutes tops," he says, and you raise your eyebrow at him.
"Really?" you challenge, "Five minutes?"
"Five minutes."
That, you'd like to see. Dropping your toast back onto the plate, you stand up and walk to the other side of the table, unsure what exactly he wants you to do. He spreads his legs a bit, points to his thigh.
"Sit here, babygirl," he says, voice low and hypnotic, "Wanna show you somethin' new."
Yes please.
You situate yourself on his lap, one leg going between his thighs while the other dangles carefully off the other side of the chair. He pulls you down, big hands coming up to palm your hips and hold you there firmly. You swallow tightly, unsure exactly what he has in mind.
"You know what feels really good?" he murmurs, thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin between your shirt and your shorts.
"What?" you whisper, peering down into his eyes with intrigue.
"This," he says softly, then very slowly begins to move your hips, dragging you carefully back and forth along his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, lips parting as you feel the ache in your core immediately return, the pressure of his thigh and the movement of his hands setting your nerves alight.
He looks down at his own handiwork, watches as he moves you back and forth, back and forth, rocking you over and over again until you're whimpering in his lap, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He just smiles up at you, doesn't stop his movements.
"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he breathes, watching your expression closely, "Feels good to finally have somethin' touchin' that pussy, huh baby?"
You moan at his words, hands slipping from his shoulders to wrap around him as you lean forward to bury your face in his neck. He just starts to move you faster, chuckling softly to himself when your hips buck against him. It's amazing how such a simple action can feel so fucking good, the constant stimulation against your clit through layers of material making you writhe and whimper.
He removes one of his hands from your hips and slips it inside the leg of your shorts, fingertips tickling your inner thigh gently. You grapple onto him even tighter, hugging him like a koala as his thumb slowly begins to stroke you through the wet spot of your panties.
"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this pussy yesterday," he murmurs, thumb rubbing your clit over and over in little circles, "Those pictures were so filthy, baby."
You moan against his shoulder, gripping him tighter as his thumb begins to pick up speed. He presses a kiss to your neck, wet and hot; it makes your eyes roll back.
"And this little hole," he murmurs in your ear, suddenly adding a finger inside your shorts to circle your entrance slowly, "Kept thinkin' about this tiny little hole, all open for me."
God, when he talks like that you can't even fucking think, brain running on autopilot as he pulls you impossibly closer and lets you bare down on his thigh, his finger and thumb trapped under your weight, pressed firmly against your core.
"Who's gonna fill up that hole, babygirl?" he whispers in your ear, soft and secret, "Huh? Who's that hole belong to?"
"You," you whimper into his shoulder, eyes shut tight as he strokes his finger up and down through the fabric, adding even more pressure to the overwhelming sensations you're already feeling "It's yours, Mr. Miller."
"And what's gonna go inside it, sweetheart?"
"Hnhng," you can't speak, inhaling shakily as Joel's other hand presses harder against your hip and continues to guide you, fucking you back and forth against his thigh. He just watches you, eyes dark, lips parted, brow furrowed.
"Words, babygirl," he reminds you softly, "Use your words. What's gonna go inside that tight little hole? Huh? Tell me."
"Y-your cock."
"That's right," he murmurs, the tip of his finger prodding inside you gently, taking the damp material of your panties with it, "Gonna fill you up so deep with my cock, honey. You're gonna feel it right here," he moves his hand up and places it at the base of your belly, pushes against it softly, "Gonna be so big inside you, sweet girl."
Oh fuck.
"I want it so bad," you groan, wrapping your arms even tighter around him, "I need it Mr. Miller."
"You do need it," he agrees softly as he kisses the top of your head, bringing his hand back down from your belly to guide you again, moving you back and forth "Need to be fucked so bad, don't you baby? Til you can't even think straight."
You nod frantically, continuing to grind yourself down against his thigh over and over and over, "Please," you whimper, almost a squeak, "Please, Mr. Miller."
"Shh," he soothes, pulling you in closer and moving your hips against him, looking at you with those big brown eyes full of lust and safety, "I will, babygirl. Soon. I'll fuck you so good, honey. I promise." Your body hitches in his lap as you near the edge, eyes going wide and mouth popping open as your orgasm starts to hit you, "Yeah? You like thinkin' about that, huh? Me fuckin' this soaked little pussy into my mattress? Fillin' you up so deep you can feel me in your stomach?"
You can't hold on anymore, eyes shutting tight and high pitched whimpers flowing past your lips as you start to come. He pins you against his thigh, holds you there tight and firm as your pussy pulses and throbs through his pants. You lean forward to bury your face in his neck as you ride it out, feel his hand press against your back.
"Oh, good girl, that's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple gently and stroking your back in little circles, "Come all over my lap, sweetheart. Show me how wet she can get, there you go. Good girl."
After a moment of catching your breath and willing yourself to pull your face away from his neck, you both bring your attention to the clock on the stove - five minutes have passed.
"Told ya," he murmurs, pulling you into one more hug, hitching his chin over your shoulder and rubbing your back gently as your head lolls against him.
You're too blissed out to tease him back.
--
The arrivals gate isn't as busy as you'd expected, thankfully. You lean against your car a few hours later, still reeling from your morning with Joel as you wait for Tasha to show up. You'd told him about your weekend plans before you'd left, insisting that despite spending time with Tasha you'd still be attending your Saturday lesson.
"Can't wait," he'd murmured to you, low and deep in your ear after giving you one final kiss at the door, "Got somethin' real special planned, babygirl."
You'd practically melted down his front steps.
"THERE'S MY FAVORITE SLUT!!" you suddenly hear someone shout, and you look up to see Tasha at the sliding doors, bags dropping to the ground as she sprints at you head on and collides with you seconds later, wrapping her arms around you tightly.
She's just the same as she was the last time you saw her, high spirited and excitable and sweet, practically vibrating in your arms with joy. Only she could rock a bright purple cowboy hat and sweatpants, not to mention the lime green flip flops.
"Oh my god," you gasp in her ear, hugging her back and spinning on the spot, "You're insane."
"I'M EXCITED!" she squeals, pulling away from you and clapping her hands together, "We're going out tonight!!! Together!!! For the first time ever!" She brings her hands up and places one on either side of your face, lips turning down into a pout, "My baby bird is leaving the nest," she sighs dreamily, shaking her head, "I never thought this day would come."
"Please get in the car," you laugh, popping the trunk and gesturing to her bags, "before I change my mind and send you back."
--
You give Tasha the complete run-down on Joel as you get ready at the Airbnb, updating her on everything that's happened since you'd last checked in. It feels so good to actually talk about it, not text or simply mull it over and over in your head. She gasps at all the right spots, makes ridiculous faces in the mirror as she curls her hair, nearly drops the curling iron on the floor when you tell her about this morning.
"AND YOU LIKED HOW IT TASTED?" she practically screams, running out of the room and then running back in like she has no idea what to do with herself, "Oh my god, you are down bad. Jesus Christ," she makes a face, "Sorry, I mean- uh, fuck."
"Tasha," you roll your eyes, "You can say Jesus Christ."
"I can?" her eyes widen and she sighs in relief, picking up the curling iron from the floor, "Thank god."
You're going clubbing tonight for the very first time; a night of dancing and cocktails and flirting and living out all the college dreams you still have yet to experience. You're a bit tentative about the flirting part though, a concept that floors Tasha immediately.
"You can't go clubbing and not flirt," she says with faux shock, spinning in front of you as she assesses her dress in the mirror, "It's the best part!"
"I have a-" you cut yourself off, making a face at your reflection.
"You do not have a boyfriend," Tasha says immediately, "There has been no definition, babe. You need to keep reminding yourself of that."
"But it's not just fucking," you argue with a grimace, "I mean, it's not even fucking at all, we still haven't taken that step yet."
"I know, I just don't want you to get your heart hurt, honey," she frowns, leaning toward the mirror and applying some lipstick, "Boys are mean."
"Well, Joel's not a boy," you say quietly, fingering the hem of your own dress, a short and cute pink number that Tasha had brought specifically for you to wear, "He's a man."
"Mmhm, so you keep telling me," she raises an eyebrow, "I think I need to see this man for myself. Give you my honest opinion, see if he's really this gorgeous, perfect hunk you make him out to be."
You bite your lip, trying not to smile as you think back to this morning, how he'd looked in the early morning light, naked and sleepy and beautiful. And all yours.
"He is," you murmur softly.
--
You're supposed to be going clubbing, supposed to be out dancing and drinking cocktails and living out all your college dreams for once in your life. But where are you instead?
"O'Neil's!!" Tasha says excitedly, pointing to the red neon sign outside the bar you've just arrived at, throwing you a shit-eating grin that just makes you playfully roll your eyes.
You never should have told her the name of the bar Joel frequents, because she's now made it her mission to find him, get a good look at him and judge for herself if he's really all you're making him out to be. It's your own fault, you suppose, considering that you don't have any pictures of him or any frame of reference to articulate exactly the way he looks. For Tasha he's shrouded in mystery, but not for much longer.
Your ears are already ringing when you get inside the bar, the chatter and buzz of other people's conversations flooding your thoughts. You're not used to being out like this, being around drunk people or high people or literally anyone whose ideal night out is spending time at a bar. It's nerve-wracking and you instantly feel like a fish out of water, gripping onto Tasha's arm after showing your ID to a man who ogled both of you way more than he needed to.
"So this is where he hangs out," Tasha says, assessing her surroundings and leading you towards the bar where most people seem to be gathered, "Quaint. Little divey. Definitely not for our crowd but hey, we're learning new things tonight." She taps the counter and tilts her head toward the bartender with a smile, "Watcha got on tap?"
You wrinkle your nose, "I thought we'd be having cocktails."
"Oh we will at the club, don't you worry. But if we want the authentic dive bar experience, beer is necessary," the bartender lists the options and Tasha orders, though you barely hear what either of them are saying over the loud music and conversations. Your eyes scan the bar for any sign of Joel, but people are packed so tightly in here that it's hard to really see anybody, faces and bodies melding together.
The bartender hands Tasha the drinks and she throws him a wink, "Thank you, darling."
You envy how easily she navigates a situation like this, so natural and graceful despite her surroundings that are anything but. She hands your beer to you with a smile and holds hers up in front of her, tilting it toward yours until they clink.
"To you finally coming out with me," she toasts with a grin, "It's about damn time."
You smile back and take a sip, trying your hardest not to wince at the bitter flavor. It's not like you've never tried alcohol before, you just already know that you hate beer.
"Delicious," you lie, and Tasha just laughs and gestures toward a suddenly empty booth in the corner of the room.
"Let's sit there while we suss him out," she mutters to you, pulling you along with her and slipping inside, "Now, what's he look like? You've been pretty vague about those details." She waggles her eyebrows, "Be honest, is he bald?"
You almost spit out your second sip, shaking your head furiously, "No, he's not bald. Full head of hair."
She puts her hands up in defense, "Hey, it's not that crazy to assume!"
You just shake your head and laugh, turning back toward the bar and the people and trying to get a gage on where he might be. You know he usually comes here with his contracting crew, but what the hell does a contracting crew even look like?
"Help me out, gimme a description!" Tasha says eagerly, wiggling in her seat a bit and following your gaze, "He has facial hair, right?"
"Yes, it's kinda messy and scruffy," you bite your lip, squinting a bit as if that'll help you.
"And what's his hair color?"
You don't look at her as you reply, "Um.. grey."
Tasha's hand slaps down on the table and you jump, eyes going wide as you turn back to her, "What?"
"Grey? Girl, how old is he?" she doesn't sound angry or judgmental - she sounds intrigued. And almost... impressed? You gnaw on your lip, scrunching your eyebrows together as you look back toward the crowd of people.
"Um... he's..." you stop short, freezing when your eyes land on a familiar shirt near the bar, a red and black plaid button down that you'd seen only hours ago, "There! He's there!" You point at him quickly, ducking your head a bit and motioning for Tasha to lean in closer to get a good look.
"Oh... my god," she breathes, and you feel a rush of pride at her response, unable to stop the grin from plastering itself to your face as you peer at him.
There's something different about him that you can't place - maybe it's just because you haven't seen him in a public place like this, aren't used to what he looks like when it's not just the two of you. You try to put your finger on it, and while you're doing so he does something that makes your heart positively swell in your chest.
He smiles. That beautiful crooked smile that pulled you in the day you met him, set your skin on fire and brought you to the point of no return. Those crinkly eyes, the grey in his beard, the softness of his eyes, they send that familiar feeling of safety rushing through your bones. And you realize there's nothing different about him at all. That's your Joel, sitting on a bar stool after a long day of work, nursing a glass of whisky and chatting about his day. He's the same Joel who you'd woken up with this morning, just in a different setting.
You're so distracted by his rugged beauty out in the open like this - overwhelmed by his charm and his smile - that it takes you a few seconds to see who exactly he's smiling at.
You feel your heart in your throat.
There's a woman sitting beside him. Not just beside him, but so close their stools are touching, so close her legs - long and lean and beautiful - are brushing his. It's not subtle the way her ankle moves against his calf, up and down, up and down. She's wearing jean shorts and a halter top, skin dark and gorgeous and exposed in all the right places, beautiful brown braids cascading down her back and shoulders. You can't see her face but you already know she could be a model. She probably is.
No. No, something isn't right.
Maybe it's not him.
Time feels like it's frozen, like everyone in the bar has stopped moving except the two of them, like a giant spotlight is shining directly on where they sit, where they touch, where they smile at each other. Because it is him. It's him in all his gorgeous Joel glory, peering into the eyes of a woman who isn't you, a woman who's probably more his type, closer to his age, a woman who's somehow making him smile like that when she shouldn't. That's how he smiles at you. That's your smile.
A woman who's now leaning in for a kiss.
No. Please no.
A woman who he kisses back.
This isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just some sick and twisted nightmare you're about to wake up from at any second.
His hand comes up to cup her face.
"I'm gonna throw up," is all you manage to gasp out to Tasha as you yank yourself from the booth and sprint out of the bar, hand splaying across your belly as you bend over and release the contents of your stomach all over the sidewalk.
You feel Tasha's hand on your back, pulling your hair behind your ears. She's saying something but you don't understand it, ears continuing to ring despite being outside in the cool air, away from the loud music and chatty conversations, away from them.
"Oh honey," you finally hear her say, soft and kind as she rubs circles into your back, a comforting action that brings no comfort to you, not now, not after what you've just seen. "I'm so sorry."
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