#i was so afraid when i left college i would never learn anything

[docbrownstudies]

just a reminder that learning doesn't stop when you graduate or you leave school. you can keep teaching yourself new things. you can read textbooks or borrow books from the library. you can watch tons of free videos on youtube and learn a new skill or educate yourself on a topic you've always been interested in. you can still take pretty notes. you can still learn a new language. learning doesn't have to end once you leave the classroom.

[joelscruff]

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

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."

[sorchathered]

The Willows Never Stopped Weeping for You

Pairing-Tyler Owens x female OC (Olivia Wright)

Warnings- language, drinking, angst, death, injury, smut

Summary- Olivia let Tyler go to carry out his dreams, but broke his heart in the process. What happens when in the wreckage of a little small town he learns the real reason she left him, and how do they repair it?

A/N- we back at it again on the angst train, third week in a row lol!! I really loved this one, twisters was so good and I am excited to start writing for the fandom! As always, like, comment, reblog anything to let me know what you think!

“We’ve gotta get the hell out of dodge, we can’t sit here any longer Ty!” Dani is panicked, sweat dripping from their brow as they tremble, eyes wild and afraid of what will happen if they don’t make it out.

“I can’t- I can’t leave without her goddamnit and you know it, go ahead of me, you gotta trust me! We will make it out of here, get everyone to safety Dan, I’m serious get the hell out of here!” He yells over the roar of the wind, shoving them towards the rv and as much as it pains the crew, they know Tyler would die in this storm before he ever left Olivia behind. She was his everything, he’d loved her his whole life, and even if things were broken between them he would die a thousand times over to make sure she was safe.

——————————————————————

The crew had been up and down the state the past few weeks, working together with Javi and his crew to test out Kate’s theory and it had been one hell of a ride. They’d mostly been able to help keep the damage to a minimum, but as always with storms like these it was always a risk.

The little town on the outskirts of Enid had been ravaged more than once, but this storm seemed to be hell bent on taking whatever was left of the small community and turning it to rubble. So many injured, and so many homes and businesses destroyed, it seemed like a no-brainer that the government would send aid relief workers to help repair the damage, but what Tyler Owens hadn’t foreseen was the bright green eyes and auburn hair of his first love as he helped people in the aftermath.

Olivia Wright had been his everything since he was fourteen years old, occupied every one of his dirty fantasies and dreams of the future. He’d never been more sure of anyone in his life, until they’d crashed and burned so spectacularly shortly after college. He’d fallen in love with storm chasing, his dreams of working for the NWS had turned into something else entirely as he and the crew of misfits he migrated to became more and more obsessed with the beauty and danger these storms brought.

Liv had their whole future planned, finish college, get married. Ty would work for the NWS and she would become a nurse, fulfilling your passion to help people and getting to be by his side while he pursued his passion for meteorology. The two of them were growing apart, everyone could see it but him, and she knew she’d have to be the one to let go, he was always bigger than the whole sky and Liv couldn’t bear to keep him down. So she broke his heart and her own, and in that time she watched him flourish. His channel and all of his friends, the articles written about his discoveries, she watched it all with rapt attention, he was living out his dreams and Liv couldn’t have been more proud. Eventually she had to decide what was best for her, and watching storms ravage communities just like hers in Arkansas became too much to bear, working in disaster relief and helping to save lives became her passion, she kept her head down and let the work take over, but never lost hope that one day she’d run smack dab into that man that was as wild as the western wind.

It had happened less like a rom com and more like a horror movie, he’d seen her first and lost his cool immediately, ducking under an awning and scrambling to find somewhere, anywhere else to be but near her. Lily, who had been both of their friends in college couldn’t quite figure out what the hell was wrong with him, but it didn’t take long to spot her bright hair and the FEMA t-shirt Liv was sporting as she handed out water to a group not far from theirs.

“Oh my God is that my Livvy?!” She shrieked as she ran for her friend, the two of them erupting in giggles and swaying each other in the midst of the debris-covered road.

“Lily bug!! Oh my goodness what are y’all doing here?! I thought from your last video you guys were over near Lawton!” She said, smacking a hand over her mouth as she realized she’d given herself away already.

“Ooh so you have been watching hmm? Come say hi to everyone cutie pie, it’s been too long and we need to catch up.” She pulled her along but Liv tried to dig her heels in, wild green eyes panicked.

“I can’t intrude Lils, and I don’t want to make Tyler uncomfortable, I’m sure he doesn’t want to see me” she says as she puts both hands up in surrender but Lily is having none of it.

“Nope, you don’t get to pussy out Olivia, life is too short and you know it. Now come on! I want to hear all about your life, and Dani makes some bomb ass burritos so you should try to eat something, it’s gonna be a long day babygirl.

————————————————————-

He somehow manages to avoid her like the plague all day, catching glimpses here and there but mostly staying close to Kate and Javi, much to Lily's frustration if the glares she’s cut at him all afternoon are any indication.

Livvy wasn’t quite sure what to make of it; she had been watching them for so long online that she felt like she knew the crew personally, they were some of the kindest people she’d ever met and it wasn’t lost on her that all of them had been brought together by Ty. He’d made himself a family, it was just another thing that she had missed her chance on and she couldn’t help but feel a little emotional over it.

When Kate had come over to introduce herself later in the evening, it had been obvious to Olivia that she and Tyler had something going on. It was hard to dislike her, she was beautiful and kind, and smart as a whip from what Liv could tell. Definitely perfect for him, so after a while of watching them all interact and being all but ignored by her oldest friend, it got to be too much and she found a way to make her escape, using an early morning as an excuse and holing up in her motel room to lick her wounds and cry.

Lily chases after her with another nasty glare in Tyler’s direction, everyone had questions now and he couldn’t give them, waving them off with a middle finger as he stumbled through the parking lot, a little tipsy and feeling an ache in his chest that he’d thought he’d healed from.

“Liv! Stop damnit, I know this shit is hard but just talk to me honey, tell me.” Lily shouts into the crowded lot and watches her friend's shoulders sag as she turns with tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Oh Lily.” She lets out a ragged breath and lets it all wash over her, everything she’s left unsaid and held deep inside. “I could never deny him happiness, if it’s not with me that’s OK, it’s been a long time and I’ve learned to accept it. If Kate makes him happy then of course I want that for him. I never stopped loving him, so of course I would always want what’s best for him. It wasn’t right back then Lily, that kinda love was unpredictable. We were growing together like two gnarled trees, neither of us were helping the other reach our potential and I had to let him go so we didn’t end up hating each other. “ A shudder runs through her at the declaration, tears are threatening to seep from her eyes but she won’t give them the satisfaction.

“That sounds like horseshit and you know it” Lily says she jabs her finger into Liv’s shoulder, her eyes are full of fire. Liv knows she means well, she’s always been a good man in the storm, someone you want in your corner when things get hard which is why she’s so glad that Tyler has her. Liv lets her shoulders sag and look at Lily full of defeat.

“I can’t change it now, even if I wish I could.”

“Do you wish you could?” She says with raised eyebrow and Olivia gives her a little nod.

“Every day. I miss him every day.” Tears well up in her eyes and she shivers as the wind blows through the camp, but she won’t let the pain overtake her, she made her choice and she can only hope that he’ll be happy.

Olivia doesn’t see it but Lily does, Tyler is half hidden behind the RV, he’s heard it all and she watches as his face goes from grief stricken to angry turning on his heel as he walks off into the dark, the weight of her confession breaking his heart all over again.

—————————————————

He paces the concrete hallway of the motel for what feels like hours, letting the weight of what she said run over him. Had he really been so blind? Olivia hadn’t wanted to let him go, and he’d never thought to question it when she pushed him away. He had been hurt and stubborn, shutting down immediately and saying some of the meanest things he could hurl at her to hurt her back. In hindsight he should have known she was just trying to give him the ability to do what he wanted, but just the fact that she had convinced herself that she was what was holding him back made a fire rage in him. Sure it would have been hard to manage, but they could’ve handled it! They could handle anything together, he’d always told her that, why she would have ever thought otherwise was something he couldn’t reconcile with.

He was at her door before he could stop himself, rapping sharply on the peeling metal and praying that she would listen. The sounds of the lock being undone told him she was still awake, the door swinging open to reveal her puffy tear stained face, hair up in a messy knot on her head and an oversized t shirt full of holes, one that had definitely belonged to him.

“Why are you here Ty? You’d had all day to say something to me, and you waited until midnight?” She said with a sniffle, there was no point in trying to hide what she’d been doing, it was all over her face and his heart clenched in his chest knowing he’d hurt her again.

“You didn’t want us to end, did you?” He said gruffly, he wasn’t leaving until he got his answers, he needed to know the truth.

“What does it matter now? You’re with Kate-“ she said as more tears formed, arms wrapped tightly around her waist as though she was trying to hold herself together.

“I’m not. We tried it, but she’s got her own demons to work out, and we agreed it would be better to be friends. Answer my question baby, I need to hear it. Do you still want me?” He was leaning in close to the door frame now, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body and smell the beer on his breath. Liv let out a ragged breath and nodded, that was all he needed to push the door the rest of the way open and pull her into his arms, kicking the door shut behind him as he pressed kisses to her cheek and neck while she held on for dear life. Sobs wracked her body as he sat down on the creeky mattress, pulling her into his lap as he rocked her side to side.

“My sweet girl” he murmured into her hair, he let her cry it all out until she relaxed in his grip, tipping her chin up to look at him as he stroked her cheek.

“I never stopped hoping for this, I didn’t want to hold you back but- I can’t stay away anymore. I-I love you Ty, I always will.” She stuttered and he let out a groan as he pressed his mouth to hers, flipping them both so she was on her back and spread out for him, she’d been the star of every fantasy he’d ever had, and nothing would ever be as good as the real thing.

“I never stopped either Livvy girl, can I have you? Please baby I- I need it, need to show you how much I missed you.” He looks wrecked, hair a mess and eyes wild, and she can’t stop herself from pulling him down to her, licking into his mouth and running her hands over his broad shoulders, watching him shiver in her embrace as he grinds down into her.

They make up for all the time lost, re-learning each other's bodies until the early morning, finally coming up for air when Tyler’s phone begins to go off with weather alerts and texts from Boone.

“Looks like there’s another cell coming this way, we need to get these people to safety while we can.” He says with a sigh as he rolls his body off of hers, she’s sated and happy as she stretches her limbs like a cat and moans, he feels himself twitch in his boxers as he watches her. She’s like a siren, calling him back to her and he wants nothing more to than to stay right here between the sheets and ravage her again.

“Stop looking at me like that Owens, or we’ll never get out of here in time” she playfully punches his chest and he lets out a hearty laugh, they’d have plenty of time to talk and catch up, he wouldn’t be letting her out of his sight anytime soon.

“Ok, ok sugar, let’s get back out here, storms a comin’ and times a wastin’.”

——————————————————————-

He should have known. He should have known they’d never get that lucky, especially knowing how unpredictable the storms had been this season.

They thought they’d had more time, weather warnings saying the tornado would likely just pass the town, but it had all gone wrong. What had started out as one had turned into two, splitting off and causing maximum damage to what was left of the area. He’d lost Liv and Boone somewhere along the way, Kate and Javi and the rest of the crew were safely out of danger, but somehow the twister had gotten between his truck and yours, and when the dust had settled you and Boone were nowhere to be found.

He was sick, bile crawling up his throat as he trembled, they’d been searching the perimeter when he’d heard Boone screaming for help, tearing through the field of corn to find your upturned truck, mangled and covered in broken glass. Boone had tried his best to pull you from the wreckage, but his shoulder was mangled; most likely dislocated from the crude angle it hung from.

Tyler pulled Olivia’s limp body out and heard a sharp gasp from her, she was alive, that was good. At least that was what he thought until he got her in his arms and saw the jagged shrapnel wedged in her abdomen, blood flowing like a water hose from the wound, way too much to be a minor wound. She kept lolling her head back and forth as she tried to lift her hand to his face, god there was blood everywhere, he couldn’t take the metal out, what if that made it worse? He yelled for Boone to give him his shirt, tears pouring from his eyes as he tried to stop the bleeding, but it just wouldn’t stop coming.

“Livvy, baby look at me ok?” He says with a gentle pat to her cheek, her eyes keep rolling around in her head as she tries to focus on something, anything, but she just can’t seem to get there.

Finally she seems to see him through her unfocused bloodshot eyes, a small victory and he breathes for the first time since he found her.

“Oh god, Ty there’s so much blood! What happened? Are- are you ok? How do we stop it? We need help!” She cries out as her body shakes in his arms, she’s going into shock and bleeding to death but is still selfless to the end, always worried about everyone but herself.

He’s sobbing so hard now he can hardly speak, just kissing whatever skin he can get to as he holds her tightly, still pressing hard into the gaping wound despite knowing it won’t do anything to stop the inevitable. He’s going to lose her, and he just got her back.

A scream comes from somewhere, Tyler jolting awake from the world’s most uncomfortable hospital chair. He’s drenched in sweat, and his neck aches, as he looks around the dimly lit room he realizes the scream came from him. He’s replayed that awful night over and over for the past three days, it ends with Olivia choking on her own blood as she fades away and he can’t seem to make his brain understand that while it definitely happened that way, the end result wasn’t quite so gruesome. She’s alive, unconscious, but alive. How EMS found them in time will consume his thoughts for a good long while. He’d been so sure he’d lost her but the miracles just kept coming because somehow the doctors were able to save her and had assured him that though recovery would be long and hard she would in fact recover.

—————————————————————

Months later he would still be convinced it was all just a dream, the nightmares had ceased but the jagged scar along Olivia’s sternum would always be there to remind him of how close he’d come to losing it all.

He lived for chasing storms, he’d convinced himself it was everything he’d ever need after she’d left, but he’d been so wrong.

She’d never ask him to give it up, but he didn’t know if he could continue to run after something that had nearly taken everything from him. He and Kate took a job consulting with the NWS on her research after Ben’s article got traction, and he left his truck to Boone to continue the legacy and the channel. He wanted to prevent the storms from happening before they started and he knew with Kate’s research and the grants from the government they could really dig in and make a difference.

He asked her to marry him on her birthday, 6 months after the accident and she’d said yes before he could even finish his speech. The future hadn’t been linear like he thought, he didn’t have to accept what he thought he deserved and finally allowed himself to accept what he wanted. Olivia Wright Owens sounded damn good to him, and maybe one day a house full of babies. Yeah he could definitely make that his new dream.

Tagging- @sailor-aviator @goldenseresinretriever @hangmanapologist @roosterforme @trickphotography2 @mynameismckenziemae @seitmai @sebsxphia @im-just-ken @kmc1989 @jessicab1991 @dizzybee03 @nouis-bum @attapullman @bobgasm @floydsglasses @withahappyrefrain

[arc852]

First Meetings 1/3

Summary: How Jimmy met Grian and Joel.

Warnings: anxiety, being/feeling trapped, and hunger pains

Word Count: 2295

AO3 Link

It's finally time! Let's see how Jimmy met Grian and Joel in the BBBCAU!

This is gonna be a slightly longer story, which is why I'm splitting it up into three parts! I'm still working on part 2 though so it might be a few days until the next chapter. It took me a while to figure out how I wanted their first meeting to go but I think I'm quite happy with what I've come up with! So I hope you guys enjoy!

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

 Jimmy opened his wall entrance slowly, peeking out and taking a look around. His entrance was hidden behind one of the humans’ desks, so he was safe to check and make sure there were no humans in the room.

 Once he deemed the room empty, he came out of the walls fully and prepared for a quick raid of the dorm room. It had only been a week since classes had started up again, which meant things were still a mess in a lot of the dorm rooms. Especially the ones used by freshmen. Humans who were fresh to college, still learning and getting all of their stuff together. These were the rooms where Jimmy found the most things and he was always excited about what kinds of things he would find.

 He adjusted the strap of his bag as he came out into the open, glancing warily at the door for a brief moment. He should be fine, it was still early enough that if the humans weren’t here, then they were still in class. He should have plenty of time to borrow and then get out.

 Confident in his reasoning, Jimmy’s gaze left the door and wandered around the room. There were some clothes strewn about but with them on the floor like this, Jimmy stayed away from them. He couldn’t be sure if they were dirty or clean and he would rather be safe than sorry. Besides, humans usually noticed when clothes went missing. Jimmy really only felt comfortable taking clothes if they were already lost.

 That’s how he had gotten his current bed, a sock that had fallen between the bed and the wall as the human was trying to fold their laundry. They never noticed it missing and so Jimmy had dragged it through the walls and back to his home. That had been years ago now, and the sock had been good to him. 

 It didn’t look like he was going to get anything like that out of this room though. He’d probably do well to focus on getting some food. He was running really low, so some crumbs, maybe a full chip if he could manage it, would be great.

 So Jimmy walked around the room, looking behind the piles of clothes and underneath the nightstands for any food that would have dropped. So far, there wasn’t anything but Jimmy still had a lot of the room to go. He headed over to the opposite desk, heading underneath to see if any crumbs had gotten stuck in the carpet. The desks and beds, both under and on top, were most likely to have food, since that’s were he noticed the humans eating the most.

 But as he made it to the desk, there was a sound that made Jimmy’s blood run cold. The jingling of keys and the turning of a knob. Wasting no time, Jimmy ran the rest of the way underneath the desk and hid himself behind one of the far legs. Just in time too, because as he settled the door fully opened, revealing two humans. They were just legs to Jimmy from this angle but that did nothing to lessen his fear.

 “--try to finish it all tonight.” One of the humans spoke, in the middle of talking already as they had entered the room.

 “How much did you get? Aren’t you only taking three classes this first semester?” The other one asked. Jimmy tried to peek out more, to try and get a better look at the humans in order to see what they were doing. He wasn’t afraid of being seen from here, he knew humans barely ever looked down, let alone in the corners and underneath their own desks.

 The human who had just spoken was wearing a red sweater and just threw his backpack underneath his desk. Jimmy winced a bit and then was thankful when the other human, one who appeared to have a green streak in his hair, placed his backpack at the edge of his bed. 

 “Yeah, and two of them aren’t super homework heavy. But my other class definitely makes up for that.” The green-streaked human said, letting out a sigh. “I want my weekend free though, so if I focus I can probably get it done before dinner.”

 The red wearing human hummed and Jimmy watched him nod. “Yeah, I’ll probably do the same. I’ve got no more classes today either and having the weekend off sounds great.”

 Jimmy bit his lip. That did not sound good. Both humans seemed to plan on staying in the rest of the day and since Jimmy’s exit was currently on the other side of the room, he had no choice but to wait. Hopefully they would both leave for lunch or dinner. Otherwise he had to wait until they both fell asleep.

 And knowing college students, that could be a while.

 Jimmy sighed and started to settle into his spot, only to jump and just barely hold back a yelp as the chair in front of him got pulled out. Jimmy slammed a hand over his mouth and pressed himself back into the wall. The human was just taking a seat but the suddenness of it had caused Jimmy’s heart rate to spike.

 The human pulled himself forward but Jimmy was still far back enough that he was still at least a foot away from the human. Still, he was no longer comfortable staying here to hide. One wrong swing of the human’s foot and he was as good as dead. Or caught. Either one was very bad.

 Thankfully, the desk was pushed right up next to the bed and so Jimmy shimmied along the wall until he was out from the desk and hidden under the darkness of the bed instead. Jimmy let out a little sigh of relief, no longer feeling cramped from having the human so close.

 He stayed by the wall and took a seat, leaning against it. Might as well get himself comfortable with how long he would have to wait. He ducked his head a little and watched as the other human’s feet disappeared, probably getting into his bed to do his homework there. Both backpacks were still where they had left them, so Jimmy could only assume they were doing their homework on laptops.

 “Alright, let’s get this done.” The human with the green-streak said. He heard the other human hum and then the air was filled with sounds of typing and clicking. 

 Jimmy sighed and waited.

***

   Nothing interesting had happened and no opportunity for escape had presented itself throughout the rest of the day. Grian and Joel (he had learned their names as he sat there waiting) had continued to talk with one another as they worked on their homework. He had perked up when they had talked about getting something to eat but was disappointed when only Grian left to go pick something up for them.

 As the humans ate their food, Jimmy’s stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since early that morning. He pushed the feeling away though. Even if the humans made some mess and dropped something, he couldn’t go get it right now. Not without being seen.

 He settled back in as they had continued to work, until finally, after many hours, Joel let out a short exclamation. “Done! Finally.” He heard Joel close his laptop and the human leaned back in his chair, stretching. His feet hit the back wall and Jimmy was glad he had moved.

 Joel pushed the chair back and stood up, stretching again once he was standing. He heard Grian chuckle. “It’s about time. I’ve been done for an hour now.”

 “Oh good for you.” Joel said, his voice taking a mocking tone. Grian laughed.

 Jimmy placed his head in one hand, leaning against it as he watched (though all he could see were Joel’s legs at the moment) and listened. These humans were interesting, that was for sure. He hadn’t been as bored as he could have been, listening to them talk and go back and forth with one another.

 But even so, no matter how interesting a pair of humans appeared to be, he would much rather be back in the walls and away from the threat of being caught. He didn’t expect to be seen, he was careful and in a spot a human wouldn’t look in, but the longer he stayed the more his anxiety began to grow.

 Unfortunately, it looked like he would have to wait longer. “Want to celebrate with a movie night? I’ve got some popcorn in my bag.” Grian said and Jimmy barely heard Joel’s reply of yes as he sighed in frustration. He knew this would be a possibility though. From his time in the dorms and watching many college students, he knew they tended to stay up way later than they probably should. It was one of the things that made borrowing here hard, which was why Jimmy tended to go out and borrow while the humans were in class rather than at night.

 He heard them shuffling around, talking as they got the movie set up. The smell of popcorn filled the air and once again Jimmy’s stomach reminded him how long he had gone without food. And once again, he pushed it back down.

 The two humans settled into bed and the sounds of the movie began to play. Jimmy leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the movie and imagining what could be happening on the screen. Despite his want to get out of there, it was kind of nice. He had never been this close to actually watching a movie before. It sounded fun.

 Eventually, the movie ended and the humans went to their own beds. The lights turned off and he heard the shuffling of blankets but Jimmy still waited. After maybe another hour or so, Jimmy finally felt confident enough to try and make his way back to his entrance into the walls.

 He stopped short of the edge of the bed, looking up and at Grian, since he was currently the only human he could see. His eyes were closed and his breathing was even. He was definitely asleep.

 He then stuck close to the nightstand and rounded the corner in order to peek up and look at Joel. He was the same, steady breathing and closed eyes. Jimmy let out a little sigh of relief. He wasted no time in running back across the room, back to Grian’s desk where his entrance was located. 

 Jimmy grinned, relieved he would finally be able to get back home. Grian’s backpack was still there but he went to the side of it to get to his exit. His smile turned into a frown, however, when he realized the bag was too close to the wall in order for him to get through. “No…” Jimmy let out a little noise of frustration, going over to the other side of the bag to see if it was any different over there.

 It wasn’t.

 The bag was too full, making it a heavy roadblock. Meaning, despite how small Jimmy was, he couldn’t push his way behind the bag. He tried, he really did, but it didn’t so much as budge and Jimmy quickly got scared at how much weight it held. He backed away, wondering what he was going to do now.

 This entrance was the only one he had in this room and going out into the hallway was definitely not a good idea. It didn’t matter how late it was, there was always a chance some human would be walking down the hall and then Jimmy would be as good as caught.

 No, he was well and truly trapped within this room.

 But that was fine. He would just wait until tomorrow. Grian would pick up his backpack to go to class and then there wouldn’t be…a…problem…

 Wait, today was Friday, wasn’t it? Friday was the last day of the week for classes. He knew that and Grian and Joel had just been talking about it earlier too. Tomorrow was the weekend and both humans had already completed their homework. Which meant…

 Which meant there was no reason for Grian to pick up and move his bag for at least another two full days.

 Jimmy leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down it until he was sitting against it. He threw his head back and let out a quiet noise of frustration and worry. He was trapped in this room for the rest of the weekend at least. 

 Honestly, he felt like crying a little.

 He shook the feelings away though. Crying wouldn’t help him.

 He stood up and went underneath Grian’s bed. He didn’t want to stay underneath the desk, just in case Grian did need his backpack before the weekend was over but staying underneath his bed at least left him on the right side of the room. Once the bag was lifted and the humans’ backs were turned, he could take the opportunity to get back into the walls.

 For now though, he let himself lay down, using his bag as a makeshift pillow as he tried to get some sleep. He wasn’t sure he would be able to, but he at least had to try. Just because he was trapped in this room, his anxiety growing more and more at the thought, didn’t mean he could forgo his rest. He needed it more than ever in this situation anyway.

 He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way he could hear the humans’ breathing and shifting.

 Eventually, he did fall asleep.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I grew up in the Mormon church, in a very conservative and religious home, in a neighborhood and city that were both ~99% Mormon. At 16, I stopped believing, and I told my mother. She refused to let me stop going to church, and insisted that I try believing it again. So I stopped talking about it and went back to pretending to believe. Pretty much everyone I'd ever met was Mormon, and I was afraid that if any of them found out I was an atheist, they'd rat me out to the church leadership, and word would get back to my parents. I never tried to talk to my family (or any other Mormon) about it again while I was living at home. I was scared, but I don't know what I was scared of.

Two years later, I left home for college. (I made up a lie about a non-deferable scholarship to explain why I was going to college before a Mormon mission.) Once I was out of the house, I told my parents again that I didn't believe. They didn't argue. I even moved back in with them for the summer of my freshman year. We had a few arguments about politics before we all learned to avoid those topics, but religion never came up.

A couple years after that, I started having occasional nightmares and flashbacks involving the first time I told my mother I wanted to leave the church. (I still have those.) I'd always been bad at writing to family, and this just made it harder. I wrote home less often and took longer to answer messages.

It's been eight years since I left home. I've moved to a different continent, and I haven't spoken to any of my relatives in over a year. I never talked to any of them about why. I never told them that I'm bisexual, that I'm trans, or that I've changed my name and gone on HRT. I feel like nothing I have to say about any of that would mean anything to them (except that I'm being led astray by Satan, which they already believe), so it isn't worth the effort. Especially since I don't really care about any of them that much.

I've gotten a couple of messages from relatives since I stopped answering. (None from my parents.) For the most part they seem to be following my cue.

I'm never sure if going no contact like this was unreasonable. Should I have explained what was going on? Sometimes I wonder if the fact that I've been happier since cutting them off is enough justification, or if it just makes me a bad person. Did I just make everything harder than it needed to be by keeping it all a secret for two years, then blame my parents for it when I moved out?

Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[starsxblazing]

Iridescence

I was listening to Iridescent by Linkin Park and all of the ideas for this AU were impossible to get out of my brain so this is what I pumped out within thirty minutes

Summary: Living in the slums of San Antonio, your train wreck of a life with your abusive boyfriend seems to be never ending. A new neighbor slowly pulls your attention towards him.

Warnings: descriptions of domestic violence, drugs, abuse, violence, description of blood and gore, death, personality disorders, depression, angst. So much angst.

Azriel x Reader

You sat in front of your full-length mirror propped on the floor, flinching when the front door to your trailer slammed shut, before examining the bruises covering your face. It had been a miracle that you had learned how to use makeup enough to cover up the evidence so that no one asked any questions. There were no longer any voiced concerns from anyone that you worked with or the only person that you had left in your life that you could consider a friend and it was a small relief.

Memories and thoughts turned over in your mind as you started the task of covering up the bruises adorning different parts of your face, searching to figure out where things went so wrong. Your relationship with James had been going on since you were sixteen and it had been tumultuous at the very least. He had always been on a downward spiral but you always kept the hope that he would be the person that you knew he had the potential to be.

His attitude had gotten even worse since the move. The small town that you both grew up in had a high crime rate that always made you afraid to do anything and there was a terrible problem with the lack of jobs. The latter was the biggest reason that you had moved to San Antonio once you had been accepted into one of the colleges here. You had been in the top five of your class, more than earning your bachelor’s degree in business. Despite your majors of finance and human resources, you struggled to find a good job in a good company.

Your two minimum wage jobs were barely enough to keep you afloat which resulted in the tiny, rundown trailer park that you now resided in. James refused to find work of his own and when he did, his employment never lasted long. It didn’t take a genius to know that he was purposely sabotaging his opportunities and making a bad name for himself but there wasn’t anything that you could do about it. 

The fight that started as soon as you got off of work had lasted throughout the entire night all of the way up until he finally just left to do whatever it was that he did. You were exhausted and didn’t know how you were going to make it through your eight hours in the factory and then the retail job that you had immediately after. 

Your car was just as bad as your home, nothing but a simple rust bucket that decided on its own some days to not start. Every wrong noise came from it during your commute to work and you couldn’t help but wonder just how long that it would last. The thought spiraled your depression further because you didn’t have the money to make any payments on even the cheapest of cars, unable to even afford to get any repairs that needed to be taken care of. 

You forced the thoughts away while throwing on the simple t-shirt and a pair of jeans before slipping on your steel toed shoes and looking around your room, unable to linger on the many holes in the walls. The entirety of the small area constantly smelled of mildew, the leak in the roof from rain that followed the dense dry heat only making it worse by the day. What you could tell was once white carpet was now brown and littered with black spots that caused the putrid odor. 

The bed, if you could even call it that, wasn’t in much better condition. The mattress, which was second hand, sat on the floor since you weren’t able to afford any form of a bedframe. You had gone without eating for almost a week simply by buying your also second hand couch that was barely usable. The small journal that was now on the floor from James’s violent outburst had been knocked from the tiny dresser and caught your eye just as you were about to leave. 

As you flipped through it, your heart dropped at the list of bills and the ones that were due in just a few days. Your bank account had been drained yet again by your boyfriend and there was no way that you weren’t going to be past due. The thought brought tears to your eyes because it would only cost you even more money that you didn’t have. You cursed the horrible economy and the overpriced hell hole that you lived in.

Making your way into the small living room/kitchen combo area of your trailer, you stopped to look at the thermostat. A snort left you at the irony because it didn’t belong there. It wasn’t like it had worked since you had moved in five years ago. The common sight of a scurrying mouse from the corner of your eye pulled your attention to it just before it ran across your feet and through a hole at the bottom of the wall. A variety of roaches scattered across the walls from your presence but that was also nothing new. 

Dirty dishes were piled in the sink, causing you to sigh because that had been another point of your argument from the night before. James didn’t work or contribute anything to the house. Not even cleaning. You were hardly ever there so it wasn’t like any of it was your mess to begin with. It was a never ending futile battle but it never failed to bug you at the end of the day in your exhaustion.

Your next task was searching for your phone and car keys, which had been thrown somewhere in the process. It had been hard at the time to know what he did with them since your vision had blurred at the time from where James had elbowed you in the nose. To the best of your knowledge, your keys were in the front yard somewhere but your phone was a different story. The broken window that overlooked the backyard told you enough. It was probably somewhere amidst the tall grass that was past due for a cut but your lack of a lawn mower made that impossible to do. It would die soon enough anyway since the cooler air of winter was slowly moving in.

Just as you suspected, your phone was in the damp backyard with the battery completely drained. There was also a new crack on the screen but you couldn’t be bothered to worry about it because it was too close to time for you to leave. Your keys took a bit longer to track down since there were no obvious signs of where they landed.

The sight of a moving truck at the front of the trailer next door pulled your attention away from your task, the new emotion of curiosity a welcome one. Your neighboring trailer was the nicest one in the park but it was far from being considered homey. It was a one bedroom just as all of them were and extremely overpriced for the condition that it was in. You had looked at it before moving into the one that you now lived in and it was in complete working condition, a far cry from being similar to your own.

Your gaze on the sight next door was enough to have you stumbling over the very item that you had forgotten about, nearly causing you to tumble to the ground right as someone was exiting the home. Heat rose to your cheeks when your eyes connected with the man’s across the small yards that you both had. You weren’t sure if it was because of the fact that he almost saw you fall or because he was the most beautiful man that you had ever seen. 

Shaking your head to clear it, you snatched up your keys and hoped that you would make it to work without any problems.

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @wisdomofthebrain @nighttimemoonlover

[rachelsrandomwritings]

Wishing On a Star That's Just a Satellite

Ahhh ok, I haven't written anything in years, but I have recently become obsessed with BES and felt like I needed to write about Mizu so here is my probably trash attempt. Also based on the line from the song Satellite by All time Low

Modern! Mizu x Fem! Reader

y/n loved Mizu.  She loved the way her eyebrows furrowed when she was concentrating. Loved Mizu’s commitment to any task she undertook, never able to do anything halfway. y/n loved her dry wit and ability to think of a comeback to any jab. She loved her loyalty. Loved the way she protected her friends. She loved her strength and her ability to make a stand when necessary. She loved her eyes and the way they almost seemed to shine. She loved her with every part of her soul, but more and more she realized that might not be enough.

The two had met in their first year of college, while stuck in a new student orientation class. y/n noticed Mizu as soon as she walked into the lecture, silently hoping the girl would sit somewhere close by. By some stroke of luck, Mizu took the seat diagonally behind y/n. While bummed she wouldn’t be able to see her, y/n sent up thanks when the proximity allowed them to be put in a group together for the semester-long project. It was that very group that would become y/n’s closest friends in college. Though giving only a mediocre presentation for the final Akemi, Ringo, Taigen, Mizu, and y/n left the class tightly bonded. The group did everything together, study dates in the library, movie nights rotating between apartments, and crashing frat parties whenever they got the chance. Those nights were particularly fun with Mizu and Taigen always finding ways to show off against the brothers until the group was eventually kicked out. 

It was through these collected interactions that y/n got to know the girl who had caught her eye back on the very first day. The more she learned the harder she fell. She listened intently any time Mizu talked about her past, living with an adoptive father growing up in his auto repair shop. It was clear from the way she talked that her past had shaped the woman she was today, and y/n wanted nothing more than to know all of the little details, to understand the girl who made her heart beat so fast. When all of the friends were around y/n could mostly keep her nerves and feelings under control, but anytime the two of them were only she suddenly lost her ability to keep up a conversation, responding too quickly and never knowing what to say next.

It was silly for y/n to think none of their other friends would notice, and before too long Akemi cornered her with questions. Unable to deny it, y/n revealed the strong crush that had been growing for months. Thankfully Akemi promised not to tell right away but encouraged y/n to express her feelings. Too shy and afraid of the consequences not only for herself but also for the friend group y/n decided she had no choice but to get over Mizu. She pushed away thoughts of the girl throwing herself into her studies. She stopped showing up to friend group events in an attempt to clear her mind. 

That was until one night, out with another group of friends and admittedly a little too drunk, y/n ran into Mizu, literally. y/n was walking off the dance floor stumbling to refill her cup when suddenly she found herself caught in the toned arms of the girl she tried so hard to forget. y/n looked up, breath hitching and her eyes made contact with the ice-blue ones. “y/n” Mizu stated bluntly looking at the girl in her arms, “It's been a while.” y/n’s mind raced attempting to come up with an excuse for her absence, but instead decided to ignore the comment. “I’m so sorry I didn't mean to run into you, I was just headed that way.” y/n said pointing in a random direction and attempting to slip out of Mizu’s grasp and get away as quickly as possible. She started walking only to find herself being pulled back gently by the wrist, y/n turned back cautiously curious. Mizu cleared her throat, “they all really miss you.” She stated, taking a step toward y/n. Feeling braver than she ever had, y/n stepped in as well. “What about you, do you miss me?” Mizu’s eyebrows furrowed surprised at y/n’s words. “Of course I miss you, we’re friends.” y/n felt the word ‘friends’ cut through her heart like a knife. Unable to control herself y/n responded, “Yeah friends why can’t it ever be more than friends?” y/n felt the tears roll down her cheeks, and leaned her head against Mizu’s shoulder. Shocked by y/n words Mizu took a second trying to understand what had just happened. Before too long she gently grabbed y/n’s chin tilting it up to look at the girl’s face. y/n looked at her, embarrassment for the words she had just said filling her stomach, she began to apologize but was cut off by the feeling of Mizu’s lips of hers. y/n relaxed immediately into the kiss stepping in closer and wrapping her arms around Mizu’s neck. 

In the following weeks the two would meet constantly attempting to figure out what everything meant, and where they stood with each other. After years of pining y/n couldn’t believe that Mizu was finally hers. y/n made her way back into the friend group apologizing for her behavior, and the group celebrated when the two announced their relationship. Everyone was warm and supportive, caring so much about their two friends and loving the joy they brought one another. On their first official date, Mizu planned a picnic to watch the sunset at a local land preserve and the couple found themselves laying out for hours discussing any and everything. The night began to grow dark and the star shone brightly. Seeing a flash of light y/n gasped point up at the heavens. “Did you see that, I think that was a shooting star!.” Mizu grabbed her hand humming in response, smiling at the excitement on y/n’s face. “Ok so now we both have to make a wish!” y/n said closing her eyes tightly knowing exactly what she would ask for. She opened one eye peeking over at Mizu to see if she was making her own wish. Seeing her eyes shut y/n waited until they opened, and asked the question everyone knows can never be answered. “So what did you wish for?”, Mizu just shook her head a light smile on her lips. “You know I can’t tell you that. If I do it won’t come true, and I want this one to come true.” y/n pouted curious about what the wish might be, but all was resolved when Mizu rolled toward her and kissed the pout off of her lips. 

Their relationship continued to grow and in the time y/n came to find out what she hated about Mizu. Mizu was insecure with a tendency to push everyone away. Her past relationships had ruined her ability to trust or rely on anyone other than herself. She much favored dealing with things on her own. Any problem was immediately bottled up, or solved with force. When trying to address concerns between them Mizu often got defensive, fighting back against any attempt by y/n to work on things Arguments led to silence and avoidance. In one fight it took two weeks for y/n to get more than a passing comment out of Mizu, which hurt. y/n did everything in her power to be available for the other girl but found that Mizu still kept up high walls. It hurts to give your all to someone and be blocked out in return. It hurt to be in the corner of someone who tried their best to kick you out. y/n found herself countless times crying to Akemi about the pain of loving someone who refused to let you in when it really mattered. Sitting on the corner of the bed, the girl she loved curled up sleeping, y/n knew what had to be done. She knew that until Mizu had worked on herself, the two of them would never work. She cried silently as she wrote a goodbye note. She folded the note, standing to place it on the nightstand, before leaning down and placing a light kiss on Mizu’s temple. She grabbed the bag she had packed earlier and walked out, knowing that her wish from all those months ago could not be fulfilled now, but hoping one day they might be brought back together. Hoping that it really was a shooting star and not just a satellite.

[matthyeu]

spring ― shb.

pairing ⇢ sung hanbin x gn!reader 

genre ⇢ fluff, slight angst, college!au

warnings ⇢ none 

word count ⇢ 1.9k

synopsis ⇢ everyone has the upperclassman they find interest in and never talk to. hanbin just had the chance to see you again.

many people dislike the season of winter. hanbin was one of those many people. however, he didn’t hate the season because of its frigid weather like most people. he actually didn’t mind being wrapped up in layers of thick jackets. he actually preferred that to the summer as cozy outerwear always allowed his mind to be the most at ease. 

sung hanbin hated winter because it was the time that took you away from him. 

well, maybe saying it took you away was dramatizing it, but hanbin dreaded the days of winter leading up to mid-february, the time you had to graduate from high school. 

it didn’t even make sense why he felt that way about your departure from the school. not once had you ever really interacted, but he had heard so many things about you from his peers, one of the upperclassmen who didn’t look down on underclassmen. your kindness radiated throughout the school, even leaving its legacy when you left. 

it was such a shame hanbin never got the chance to speak to you. you always seemed to be swarmed by people, whether it be your own classmates or underclassmen. being so popular with underclassmen, hanbin always felt stuck in a sea of people where he was constantly swimming against the current as he was pushed out of crowds. 

he tried to not think too much of it after you graduated, but still, the two years he spent at the high school without the legendary upperclassman was filled with grudges against the winter season. 

a lot of people like the season of spring. hanbin was also a part of that lot. however, he didn’t like the season because of the beginning of warmth like the vast majority. he could care less about it because of how his allergies acted up in the presence of the flowers blooming. 

sung hanbin loved spring because it was the time that brought you back to him. 

it was yet another dramatization of the situation, but it was true. the spring did somehow make your lives cross paths again once he entered university after his own graduation. 

“hey everyone. welcome to lab. i’m going to be your ta for this semester. i took this class almost two years ago, so hopefully i’ll still be of some help. let’s have a great semester.” 

he didn’t think he would be seeing you as one of the trusted instructors for the many science labs all over campus. he didn’t even know that was possible, but he soon found out many undergraduate and graduate students took offers to teach labs in exchange for some of their tuition paid off. 

this spring really was his chance to finally speak to you after a year of failed attempts. unlike before, he had a foolproof plan to see you: office hours. 

that is, if your office hours weren’t always filled to the brim. he didn’t even know who that guy sitting to your right was. he wasn’t even in your lab section! 

he scanned the corner of the coffee shop where you had decided to hold your office hours, students on your left and right trying to get your attention about one of the formulas on the lab worksheet. he certainly didn’t expect you to wave him over when you spotted him cluelessly looking around. 

“it’s a little cramped here, but go ahead and pull up a chair! if you need anything, don’t be afraid to get my attention,” you explained as you became preoccupied with another student. 

hesitantly, hanbin took one of the chairs from a nearby table after confirming with the occupant that it wasn’t being used. he sat down, and pulled out his lab notebook to mimic the actions of the few students looking to learn. most of them spent time ogling you instead of actually making an attempt to learn. it seemed even in college you remained as a legendary upperclassman everyone knew. they were bombarding your office hours after all. 

who was hanbin to judge though? he was practically doing the same thing. 

unlike the others who spent their free time dangling their feet as they sat on tables surrounding you, however, hanbin would make use of his time there. he hoped in the time it took him to review his lab notes and do homework, the crowd around you would eventually dissipate. 

well, it didn’t. it seemed the crowd that surrounded you only continued to grow as you became swarmed with questions from students who actually wanted to learn. slowly, it was like high school again where he was constantly pushed out by those who wanted only a chance to speak with someone as well-known as you. 

“these are all great questions, but i’ve stayed a little too long already. we’ve been taking up a lot of space in this coffee shop, so i think it’s time for me to go home and do my own work. i appreciate all of you coming to further your knowledge. if you need anything else, send me an email, and i’ll try to answer in a timely manner.” 

and just like that his chance to talk to you was over. he sighed and followed the actions of the other students, packing up all the stuff. he was disappointed in himself. he hadn’t even asked you anything related to the class, let alone anything about yourself to get to know you better. 

he was content with it. sitting in your presence was calming, allowing him to finish all of his homework in a timely manner. he could always try to talk to you again next week during your office hours. even if he wasn’t able to, at least he was able to finish his work. 

still, there was a part of him that was uncontent with the encounter. he really wanted to have at least one conversation with you. maybe that was why he was taking a little longer than the rest to put his things away. 

slowly, everyone said their goodbyes to you as you packed up your devices and papers from the table. as you were about to leave, hanbin sped up his packing in an attempt to leave the door with you and wish you a safe trip home. 

instead, his binder fell, several papers falling out of it and spreading all over the floor. he quickly bent down to clean them up before anyone could slip on them. that was probably one of the most unfavorable things in a coffee shop: slipping on some stray papers and spilling a drink because some random college student was trying to give himself a cliché moment with someone he idolized.

he shoved his papers into his binder without any second thought of organization. he was more focused on trying to not become the most hated person in the coffee shop. 

“here, let me help.” 

well at least, he got the interaction he so desperately wanted. this wasn’t how he anticipated it to be though, the two of you on the floor of a coffee shop trying to gather all of his papers. 

“thanks,” he mumbled as he shoved more of them into a pocket of the binder. 

“oh, you got through this problem,” you commented as you handed him one of the worksheets from the previous lab, “everyone was having trouble with it today.” 

he smiled, glad the interaction got to be a little more. “oh, well i was just listening to the conversations you were having with everyone. your explanations really helped.” 

“aw really? i’m still lacking knowledge, so i’m glad i could be of help in the background of your studying.” 

all he could do was nod. this wasn’t a conversation that could particularly lead anywhere, so he didn’t want to drag it out too long. you seemed to be in a rush to leave, so he didn’t want to keep you longer than needed. 

once he realized there weren’t many more papers scattered, he tried to assure you that he could do it on his own. 

“nonsense,” you retorted, “there are only a couple left. don’t worry i’m not doing anything important after. i just wanted to go home.” 

he chuckled at your insistence and diligence in helping him. you still were the kind upperclassmen everyone praised you to be. nothing about you had changed other than age. 

“thanks.” it was all he could really say. 

“mhm–” 

when he heard your pause, he looked over to see what you had stumbled upon. had he left something in there he wasn’t supposed to? were you going to find some hidden dark secret he had been trying to hide? did he even have dark secrets? 

“you also got invited to this?” you asked, showing him a flyer he had been sent by his old high school to talk to some of the students. it was a common occurrence for some of their most popular alumni to be asked to come back as per request of the students. he had never seen you come back, but he was sure you were always invited. you were spoken about like some celebrity, so why wouldn’t they invite you back?

“yeah, but i don’t know if i’ll be attending,” he admitted as he took the paper from you. 

as the two of you stood up, you added, “i also went to high school there.” 

“i know.” immediately after blurting out the response, hanbin realized how odd his statement must have sounded. “i mean uh–” 

you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder to reassure him you didn’t find anything wrong with what he said. “no i get it. they always invite popular alumni back, so i understand my name is well-known around there.” 

he shook his head. “you don’t understand. you’re a living legend. even the new students who know nothing about you would hear all these crazy stories.” 

you raised an eyebrow. “crazy stories? i don’t think i did anything crazy while in high school.” 

“they say a lot of things that are inaccurate, but everyone always is wondering why the esteemed upperclassman never comes back. you’d be a celebrity if you went back there,” he rambled. 

“what about you then. you got an invite. won’t they be waiting for you to come back too?” you wondered. 

“i just graduated. my demand is not as great as yours. they would go ballistic seeing you back on that campus.” 

“hmmm what do you think about going back together? we could give them even more stories to tell. two legendary upperclassmen ending up at the same university and coming back to visit together. it would be one heck of a ride for them.” 

he thought about the proposal as he zipped up his backpack. it did sound like a good idea. it also gave him more reason to talk to you. 

“sure that sounds fun.” 

“you know me, what should i call you?” you asked as you two finally exited the coffee shop. 

“hanbin. sung hanbin.” 

“well then sung hanbin, my successor of legendary upperclassman, i’ll see you in lab next week. stay behind, and we can talk about our plans more.” 

yeah, sung hanbin’s favorite season really was spring. spring brought him a miracle. spring brought him you. 

[emp-t-man]

y’know what? if jacobi had somehow found out what kepler had done to help them, what he had said before rachel threw him out that airlock? he wouldn’t care. it would mean absolutely nothing to him. because what he would also know, is that if he’d made it? if he’d lived to make it back with them? he would’ve done nothing but brag about how clever he was for his little stunt. he’d laugh in their faces about how ignorant they were for assuming he would let cutter do something like that to humanity. and he would expect a thank you. he would genuinely expect all of them to treat him like their savior and then willingly hand over the controls so that he can fly them back to earth.

kepler never learned anything. there was no special moment for him when he realized that maybe his boss wasn’t such a great person, that maybe the hephaestus crew was onto something by caring about each other more then their mission objective. all he ever cared about was his own legacy. his own reputation. that he was seen as a leader who was capable of holding his own. he cared more about himself losing command of the station than maxwell’s death. And it couldn’t have had too much to do with being afraid of cutter or wanting to impress him on some weird psychological trauma level, because his last course of action before he died was helping to undo everything cutter had wanted! this pretentious mother fucker was so caught up in his own savior complex fantasy that instead of daring to show a human emotion for once, he goes out quipping. and if jacobi found out, he would be about as surprised as a college student getting socks for christmas.

imagine being jacobi. imagine going your whole life being so desperate for approval from your family that you take a job you never planned on or maybe even wanted to take, just for it to LITERALLY blow up in your face and get your reputation ruined for the rest of your life. then imagine someone comes up to you at your lowest, when you think you have nothing left to go back to, and tells you that you’re not as much of a failure as you think you are. that you actually mean something. that you’ve been underestimated, and there’s a group of people waiting for you that will only ever see the best in you, and will care far more about who you are than what you do. imagine that person repeatedly showing you that you’re important to them, that you take priority over their job even when it’s something that seems so predominant in their life.

now imagine them taking everything they’d ever told you and ripping it up into indiscernible scraps in front of your face. finding out they really did care more about their job than their relationship with you. that they were not only willing to let you die, but prepared for it. that you were just another stepping stone on their way to being the hero of their own story. i don’t think anything someone could do after that would be able to make up for that demolition of trust. as soon as jacobi finds out what kepler was really playing at, he didn’t give a single shit about what he meant to him, what he said to hurt kepler’s pride, anything that he would’ve bit his tongue over before that point. kepler was as good as dead to him from the moment he knew that he lied, and for kepler to go as far as nearly completely disregarding him when he reached out to him one last time because maybe if he could be brought to care about people, irredeemable monster that he thought he was, maybe there was a chance that kepler could see it too? i don’t think jacobi would have cared if kepler personally came to him on his hands and knees and apologized for everything he’d ever done, much less that he did a single thing to actually help them get home. and he’s completely justified for it, too.

[azulsluver]

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬

tw. yandere, stalking, obsessive behavior.

college!rollo was never good at approaching you formally, afraid he came off too awkward or rude. he’ll learn to appreciate your presence, he’s glad you do too.

                                gifts were nothing to him.

He didn’t bother to help you decorate the, watching you run around the place to buy and make gifts for your “friends”. Instead he brew himself black coffee for the day, a book to keep him busy during the holiday break.

“Do you want anything?” Rollo raised a brow, setting his book down to give his full attention to you.

“No.” You scoff slightly at his short answer, wrapping the red scarf around your neck.

You finished decorating the dorm you shared with Rollo, happy you got to put up ornaments you found down at Sam’s shop. He’ll watch as you bid him a heartfelt goodbye before closing the door, leaving him in peace as the fireplace crackles lively. Maybe he should've asked to come.

Rollo is used to staying inside the dorm, he wasn’t shy or nervous with encountering the other students he despised. Till this day he complains how unfair it was to let you stay in a college full of mages when yourself could get hurt. Crowley was so irresponsible! He doesn’t trust your friends per-say, can’t you see how awful they can be to you sometimes? Biting his tongue each time they would put their hands on you, be it jokingly or friendly. Taking a final sip of his drink, he goes to leave it in the sink.

He needs to make sure you get into any trouble.

With hands stuffed into his coat, his mouth lets out small puffs of smoke air. The weather today was sunny yet cold, not many people were out and walking around today. It gave him the benefit to search for you, on Fridays you enjoyed visiting the botanical gardens. He knows how much you adore the flowers there, but you were restricted to bring any inside the dorm. There’s another reason you come to this place, to see a certain lion lazing under a tree.

He’d rather wait outside to avoid getting caught. His eyes would open at the click of a door, moving to the side where you wouldn’t see him. You have a gift bag in your hand. Secret Santa?Rollos watches you scurrying away the scene, a pep to your step as he follows shortly behind. How dense can you be, letting your guard down so easily. Such a problem child you were.

One by one, Rollo watches as you enter and leave a place with a different gift bag. He doesn’t see the harm of your doing, clearly playing as Santa’s little helper. Now that the sun is slowly settling, he takes this as cue to leave for now.

For his cold behavior in the morning, pulling out a hot dinner on the table should ease the awkwardness.

“Dinner was amazing as usual, thanks Rollo!” Stretching back, you carried your plate over to the sink where Rollo busies the dishes.

“I’m glad you enjoy it.” He doesn’t turn to face you.

Leaning against the counter, you tilt your head at him.

“Hey, I saw you leave for the mirror this evening.” He stops scrubbing.

Rollo’s heart skips a beat, it’s almost suffocating. You didn’t notice the way his skin pales, how tightly he held the sponge in his hand.

“Why didn’t you stop by to say hi? Also you looked so cold by yourself, you need to dress more properly.” Poking his cheek, you leave the dish in the sink. Thanking him as you left to clean up the table.

You tease him too much.

Rollo sits by the fireplace; relaxed with a hot chocolate brewed by yours truly. Sitting by his legs on the floor, you scrolled through videos on your phone. Rollo closes and open his eyes, he watches the back of your head and the way your body was jittery. It irked him how you refused to state your thoughts.

“Is something bothering you?” Turning your head to meet his, you give him a cheeky smile.

“Okay, okay, you caught me. Say, Rollo, what would you like for this Christmas?” His eyes glanced over yours.

“I have no desire for gifts. They are meaningless for nothing lasts forever. I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings over something I won’t use again.” Did he come off as too harsh again? What a fool he was.

But you didn’t frown upon his words, instead you laugh. He didn’t find his reasoning amusing, watching you with a confused expression as you giggled your head off. He would be lying if he denied how much your reaction impacted him.

“I’ve met more stubborn people than you. I’ll figure something out, speaking of gifts, what are you planning on giving me.”

Oh. Rollo stares at you for a bit, the mug in his hand gone cold. All this time his schedule was going to classes, participating in clubs, and watching over you. He didn’t want to be seen as heartless, the image you have of him must improve. So he speaks.

“A fool would’ve forget, your kindness is greatly appreciated by me [Name]. I have some in mind but it’ll be interesting to hear on your behalf.”

This has got you hooked. Taking a moment to think, you snap your fingers once your brainstorming finishes. You’re not sure what possessed you to think of it, but spending the whole Christmas Day with Rollo sounded great. Everyone else would leave to see their families and it’s just you. You and him. Without family to go with, you didn’t mind making memories with Rollo. For the sake of both your hearts.

Placing your hands over his, you kneeled in front of him with a sadden expression. With you focusing your attention on his face, this time you didn’t miss the way his cheeks flare in a fit of red.

“Let’s stay together for Christmas.”

[ahoyimlosingmymind]

ok im curious do you have any jason todd headcannons

These are (all) mostly angst, so be forewarned

THE AUTOPSY SCAR STAYS EVEN IF IT"S ILLOGICAL

SO DO THE GREEN EYES and WHITE STREAK

Idc where the autopsy scar came from, but I like the idea that the LOA did experiments post resurrection bc Ra's is so obsessed with immortality.

I don't hate the 'pit madness' trope, so long as it feeds on already existing emotions and it's temporary after getting out of the pit. Kind of like it's this voice at the back of his mind that is amplified and urges him to do things he would typically hesitate to do. But it's still well within his power to resist or give in.

Jason would hide non-perishables all around the manor for the first two years living there and genuinely believed he was one misstep from being kicked out the whole time

Kinda related to ^ (TW: Food issues) he has really bad issues with food insecurity. He has a habit of switching between scarfing food/binge eating, and then storing things for too long because he's afraid of running out and having empty shelves ever

Sometimes he forgets how old he is and his knee-jerk reaction is to answer "15" when someone asks

He ran a bicycle gang with other kids on the streets when he was homeless. Mostly to steal food and help each other out. But Winter typically picked them all off one by one, some would get taken into the foster system, kidnapped etc... so it didn't last.

He can't stand needles

He hated galas as a kid bc of the obvious classism, and the expectation for him to mask his 'roots', mannerisms, accents etc

of course, that didn't stop people from commenting and comparing him to the first Wayne Ward.

He could have his pockets lined with gold and still always chooses the cheapest option when he's out shopping for food/necessities. He never lets anyone else pay for him, and if for some reason someone does, he picks the cheapest thing he can find

He needs his bedroom door locked at all times

Can't sleep without a night-light, but he'd take that info to his grave

Learning to shave and drive were incredibly emotional experiences for him, because he was on his own and just really wanted Bruce to help him

He was the first to call Bruce 'Dad' normally as Robin, (aside from Damian, but he calls him 'Father' which is just different to me) and Jason had the most 'dad & son' relationship with Bruce out of all the robins. This is part of the reason he can't reconcile the Bruce he knows now, with the one he left.

He is often the only one to call Bruce 'dad' to this day, and it's more subconscious than anything. It slips when he's really emotional or drugged up and he hates himself for it

He's an angry crier (most emotions make his eyes burn)

He used to really want to get married and have kids, and some part of him still does, but he's terrified of damaging his kids bc of all his own issues and he can't imagine ever meeting someone who would put up with him

He can't stand to be in the manor for too long but he will hangout with his brothers and the girls outside of it. Typically these hangouts only work if it's kept light/surface level

He loves all of them and would kill and die for them, but this is not common or expressed knowledge. It's in the subtext.

He wants to be close to all of them, and Bruce- but there's just too much trauma and bad-blood to ever really fix it all. He knows it will never be fixed, and he's not willing to compromise his beliefs for it.

He wants to go to college

and is working on getting his GED

and lastly: I lowkey vibe with him and Stephanie as a ship if it was given the care and attention it deserved

Canon ship wise though, I HC Rose is the only girl he's ever genuinely seen a future with and she feels the same about him which is why they're terribly avoidant of each other

sorry this was legit all angst <3

[sugurushimura]

What are some of your favourite Shimura headcanons?

ough, i have so many that i tend to lose track of them. these are all pretty mundane, but let's see...

his father's whereabouts are unknown but he seems to have run off on shimura's mother when she was pregnant with him.

his mother sucked. she passed away from health complications when he was in college.

the only family member he's really in touch with is his maternal aunt.

he had a pet cat when he was in school. it eventually disappeared, and although shimura feared the worst, his mother always insisted one of the neighbors had been feeding it and took it when they moved out. he never ended up getting another pet.

he isn't quite fluent in english but speaks it reasonably well. he also knows bits and pieces of chinese (well enough to navigate an airport and order dinner but not hold a conversation).

he loves 80s post-punk and has ever since its heyday (he would have spent his teenage years in the 80s). his favorite band is the smiths and he picked up a lot of his english listening to them. he listens to a lot of british post-punk bands and probably quite a few japanese ones, although i'm not as familiar with those since, well, i don't speak japanese haha (although i will gladly take recommendations, as someone who has been getting into post-punk more broadly recently).

he always wanted to learn to play bass guitar but never did.

the main reason he didn't take up rugby for a career was because he was afraid of getting seriously injured. he also kind of wanted a "normal" job because he was tired of feeling like an outsider. ironically, his job of yotsuba left him feeling alienated from his peers and eventually killed him, so...

he drinks a lot of black coffee and takes cold showers.

he tries to go on a jog before work every day, but tends to miss out on it when he's particularly stressed or busy (which is more often than he'd like). he spends long hours at the gym on weekends and probably has some light workout equipment at home for restless evenings.

part of his ascendance to head of personnel can be partially credited to ooi, who he got close to not long after he started working for yotsuba. although their relationship was generally just professional, there was a brief period of time where they slept together before it just kind of stopped. also they took ecstasy together on a business trip to vegas and shimura has never done anything like that since then.

he's gay <3 and has a thing for hatori <3 and is very affected by his death <3

and also he likes fat men. hell yeah brother.

[squeakintothevoid]

I decided to stop lurking and actually post my thoughts somewhere because of my man Larry here, who shared his reaction to "The Sound of Silence" covered by Disturbed. I've listened to the original by Simon & Garfunkel before but didn't pay much attention to the words. I mean, it's just that memed depression song, right?

What folly! I have failed ye, Simon & Garfunkel! But Disturbed's video made me pay attention to the obvious message:

“This is a song about the inability of people to communicate with each other"

—Art Garfunkel

Okay, I get the point. Now, if I may, I will disturb the sound of silence (ha) to share my own thoughts while I was listening to the song:

[Verse 1] Hello darkness, my old friend I've come to talk with you again Because a vision softly creeping Left its seeds while I was sleeping And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains within the sound of silence

Let me give you some context about my life. I have social anxiety. Or did, I might not meet the criteria anymore. But woah boy, did I have social anxiety. I mean, sometimes I'd try to speak and simply could not make a sound. That's how paralyzing my fear of speaking was. I know now that this fear came from being either A) ridiculed or B) ignored whenever I spoke to my parents plus a heaping of religious trauma. Growing up, I'd hear teachers or friends say it's okay, just say what you want, be yourself. Sure, whatever. *eyeroll* I don't even have anything to say and if I did, why would I risk telling anyone? But that positive messaging still seeped in my brain somehow where it remained dormant.

[Verse 2] In restless dreams, I walked alone Narrow streets of cobblestone 'Neath the halo of a street lamp I turned my collar to the cold and damp When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light That split the night, and touched the sound of silence

Of course, I still had thoughts and emotions to say even though I kept them inside. At age 10, I considered myself like a wise sage, only speaking when necessary, but really I was emotionally stunted and always afraid. I slowly learned how to socialize though, but real progress was made when I started gaining confidence and trust in myself. Mainly because of movies and music, hence the title of my blog.

More context about me: I was raised Mormon (Latter-day saint). So like, in a cult. Or a "high-demand religion" if "cult" is too much of a buzzword for ya. Anyway, I ended up attending BYU, a Mormon college that will kick you out for not conforming to their strict "honor" code. I was understandably depressed while I was there. Except I didn't understand why at the time.

Then my eyes were stabbed by the neon light of Freddie Mercury.

For real though, Queen, among other artists, helped me see that I felt stuck, and that the next step on my hero's journey was to break free from Mormonism and my parent's expectations (and somehow not get expelled and homeless at the same time). To have confidence in myself and keep myself alive.

[Verse 3] And in the naked light I saw Ten thousand people, maybe more People talking without speaking People hearing without listening People writing songs that voices never shared And no one dared disturb the sound of silence

So now I was aware of how sinister and blatantly false Mormonism was. In a university full of devout followers that will tattle on you. Followers only talking about what they're allowed to talk about, and anyone who stands out is shut down. Everything seemed so platitudinous and hateful now. Man, I wasn't ever thinking for myself before, was I? I knew there were other people at BYU in my situation, because they said so on reddit, but I didn't dare make my thoughts known to anyone in person.

[Verse 4] "Fools," said I, "You do not know Silence like a cancer grows Hear my words that I might teach you Take my arms that I might reach you" But my words, like silent raindrops, fell And echoed in the wells of silence

Simon speaks like a prophet. In Mormonism, you have a prophet that claims to be speaking the words of God. So like, you gotta listen to him or go to hell. Actually, Mormons don't really have the same idea of hell as mainstream Christianity, but you definitely won't get into the special VIP top level of heaven if you don't shut up and obey the prophet with exactness. Prophets give you commandments. Prophets tell you to give all your time, talents, and money to the LDS church. (Although they only enforce giving 10% of your income.)

But Simon isn't really speaking to tell you what to do and not do. He, like most artists, is trying to reach out to you. To emotionally express himself and encourage others to do the same. It's a refreshing idea of what a prophet could be. He's calling us fools not because we are sinners, but because he wants to share what he has learned. His writing isn't to make a cash grab. But catchy music that can be echoed in the background tends to get the best sales.

[Verse 5] And the people bowed and prayed To the neon god they made And the sign flashed out its warning In the words that it was forming And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls And whispered in the sound of silence"

Most people see the "neon god" line as a critique of consumerism, and I wouldn't disagree. It's sad that television and music in many ways raised me better than my parents, that the religious texts that promised me spiritual awakening didn't have shit on Freddie's whimsical ballads. But these "neon signs" are what saved me.

Following fandoms, lurking on tumblr, sending superwholock memes to my friends, watching stupid youtube crack videos, staying up late just vibing to the music I had. These are my prophets. It's sharing all these little pop culture things that culminated in me finally realizing that I'm alright as I am, even with my cringe hyperfixations. That maybe I can slowly learn how to speak my truth and say with a newfound sense of confidence that I do want extra ketchup. Or that I'm rejecting my parent's one true religion.

It's all good now, I never got expelled nor disowned as I feared, but I'm still healing from things. I can't say I'm a beacon of self-confidence either (right now, I'm worried this whole post is too long and pretentious). So if you took the time to read this, thanks! I know tumblr can be a hellscape of a site but I appreciate y'all. It's our little ramblings that get us through the day when we feel like nobody understands us. Here's to the whispers in the tenement halls!

Yes, I did shoehorn a spn gif in my first tumblr post, what are ya gonna do about it?

[leedee013]

2064 nightingale way?

Oh boy.

2064 Nightingale Way is a fun little project I started while lost in thought on one of my walks in Germany. It's about Luke, who is a junior in college and feels like he's never going to amount to anything. He's not unique, he doesn't stand out, and as hard as he tries, he can never produce any work that's truly remarkable or noteworthy. And so, it's a story set through his eyes as he interacts with all of his friends, who he feels stick out so much more than him, and his search to become "A Character;" someone who isn't afraid to embrace who he is in his entirety.

First chunk from my WIP draft below the cut!

Further intrigue? Want more writing? Find it on @thornilee013

When I was growing up, my mom told me I could do anything, as long as I could read. 

I became obsessed with words, at the infinite ways they can fit together to weave stories, incite compassion, inspire others, and even destroy. They always seemed so delicate─dependent solely on breath or pen to exist. 

As a result, I've lost myself in stories for most of my life, letting myself get swallowed into narratives from all over the world and wrapping myself in the sentences that spun them together. 

I've even tried to write my own stories, but they always end up fading away from me before I can finish them. One day I want to hold on to a story and let it take me somewhere, but it’ll have to wait until after college.

I dreamed of going to a small, liberal arts college ever since I was a kid. Nothing too fancy, and certainly nothing too prestigious, but rather a place where I could find like-minded people and learn as much as I can from all subjects. 

To no one’s surprise, I decided to become an English major. I even added an education emphasis, since it would be useful to have that skill set in the future when I start looking for jobs. It’s a while until then, but might as well get it done now rather than spend more money getting a certification later. 

I moved into my new housing assignment (for the most part) a few days ago, and my junior year is about to begin. I’m not quite sure what to expect, but I have to admit that the stress of last year hasn't quite left my bones yet. It also means that I'll officially be closer to the end of my college career than the beginning, which honestly makes me even more nervous about how little time I have left until I can't turn back. And even though I love my major, writing essays over and over is beginning to feel repetitive and make my words feel meaningless. 

It doesn’t help that I’m a pretty meaningless person. I always did well in school, but was never anything special. I’ve never been one to stick out, no matter how hard I try. I’m completely forgettable. I have a few friends, and they seem to like me enough, but out of all of them I’m the least interesting. Not for a lack of trying, though. I’ll put it like this: if my life was an anime, my friends are the kinds of people who would be the main cast with iconic hairstyles and over-the-top personalities. Meanwhile, I would blend into the background. 

The worst part? I know that it could be different. I mean, other people manage to become Somebodies all the time. Back in high school my friends would throw out names of singers and athletes and performers all the time, and I would swear that they were just making up names to toy with me. There are so many incredible people in the world, and as much as I want to be one, I never will. I push myself to do the best that I can at whatever I do, and make an effort to always be kind to everyone, but it all feels like an act, nothing more, nothing less. 

There’s always something holding me back, and no matter how hard I try to get out of its grip, it won’t let me go. It’s like I was thrown onto a stage with no exit, and everyone is watching me, waiting for me to dare break character. And I’m convinced that I’ll die if that happens. That the spotlight trained on me and pinning me in place will go out, and my life will end with it. 

And so I lose myself in stories, and lost I shall remain.

[crmsnmth]

Black (Part One)

(It is extremely rare for to put a trigger warning on my work. In fact, I don't think I've ever put a trigger warning here, other than the blanket one I have in my pinned post. But I feel that I need one with this one. The following poem contains extremely dark themes, violence, murder, and suicide in some what graphic detail. This poem is fiction, and that is just that. It does not reflect with how I feel or how I have ever felt. This is just a story and nothing more. It isn't based on anything that's happened in my life, it's just a graphic fictional story. There is no hidden meaning, no subtext or anything at all. Please, proceed with caution.)

Back lit by lighting strikes and pouring rain I stand on the sidewalk outside a three bedroom house Her truck left only a few minutes ago And his roommates are all doing who the fuck cares I never needed to learn anything except their schedules They aren't part of the plan And the weight is carried in my belt behind me It's cold steel fingers press into my skin

I watch lights turn on and see him through the windows Building courage to do what I need to do I make my way to the back door with the square window And I wait I wait for thunder to crash to camouflage the sound and when it does I take my leather gloved hand shattering the window into pieces There's no alarm paid for here Not for a college student's broke stereotype

The house is cool as I enter like it's my own Thunder rumbles and shakes the walls There is no light on in this kitchen Other then the green digits on the oven's face Somewhere deeper in I can hear water running And the basslines of some obscure punk band I know where he is I know what he's done There is no forgiveness left in me I gave all that upon the prize that he had stolen

I find the empty quiet living room And I find a chair to sit rearranging furniture so I can watch him and so he can burn my face into his short term memory It's all he has that matters

I sit in the dark Showing only the burning ember of my cigarette the same one's he forced her to quit

the hiss of water is silenced and I'm almost giddy with anticipation I feel the black cold metal in my hands Sliding it and removing any chance of safety He'll smell the smoke before he comes to see but just like the cat, he'll follow his curiosity

I finish the pall mall and toss it onto the carpte I doesn't matter to me if this place burns to the ground Neither of us will even feel the flames So in the end it doesn't really matter

The bathroom door clicks as it opens I know that door sticks from the steam I hear his footsteps in the hall, edging closer and closer And I grin and point and click as he flicks the light on His face is instantly afraid as I introduce myself for the very first time And also the last time I motion with the barrel "Sit down. We need to talk."

He takes his place across from me, hair still wet and warm He's visibly shaking and I guess I can't blame him I would be too with a psychopath in the room I offer him a cigarette and he shakes his head "I think you should." I toss the pack to him The one on the carpet still smolders

"Who are you?" He finally spits out with trembling words I laugh and laugh and laugh I don't answer right away, letting him drown in his confusion I relish in the smell of his ozone fear "You know exactly who I am."

He shakes his head violenlty hard enough that his stupid turtle shell glasses fall to the floor He makes no effort to get them "No, I don't. What do you want?" Tears start to slide down his flushed cheeks

"You took something from me The only fucking thing I've ever cared about. You know exactly who the fuck I am." His eyes scan the room, but there is no escape there's no trick, the barrel stays on him the whole time Suddenly, a moment of clarity washes over his face "Your…" I cut him off by cocking the metal slide

[circular-bircular]

on the topic of you being a teacher + system, how much did being a system affect your entry into a career?

im considering college but the problem is that it feels like my parts are all pulling me in ten different directions and im scared to start anything because where will i even be in 4-8 years yk? if i start a degree and end up hating it, or the part that wanted it doesnt want to fromt anymore, or— you get the picture.

how did you do it and do you have any tips for young adult systems who need to do the same thing?

I am greatly lucky that my system was very close to each other from the start. We had parts who were simply ambivalent to the job we would get, and parts who love teaching firmly. We didn't really realize we had anyone who hated teaching until we did our student teaching in my senior year of college -- which, shockingly, is actually when a lot of would've-been-teachers learn that they hate teaching. However, it's only about 2 parts out of my (currently) 14 who hate it with a burning passion, so... Majority kinda rules.

In terms of it affecting my entry just... symptomatically, it really hasn't been an issue. That's primarily because I have fought for my accommodations. I worked hard to make people realize that I needed assistance. I didn't go around telling everyone and their brother that I have DID, but I have made it known that, due to a childhood developmental/trauma disorder (depending on who's asked), I struggle with my memory a lot and benefit from reminders. On the lowest tier of "I need this person to accommodate me but I don't want them knowing jack shit," I literally just. Have asked if they would send a reminder out. Simple, easy peazy. Do NOT be afraid to ask for accommodations, buddy!

But it sounds like you're struggling more with the internal side of DID -- the disagreements between parts and trying to fulfill all their needs. To which I say: No matter what, someone is going to need to compromise.

We have a lot of disagreements, but they don't cause us any distress any longer, because we have come to terms with the fact that we only have one life to live. For instance, Numb would love to quit teaching and dedicate himself to writing full time... But Curtis would be devastated if we did that. So... compromise: Numb deals with teaching, but we make sure (and never let this one slip) to dedicate time to writing when we feel the desire to. We write at work pretty often, particularly when he's out.

You're going to have parts pulling you in many different directions, especially if you're starting out. If you're in your late teens to early 20s, it's important to recognize just how much life you have left to live. You are not past the hump yet -- you've barely scratched the surface of living. You are GOING to be somewhere new in 5, 10, 20 years. And you have survived this long; you'll survive that too.

My suggestion is to go with what the majority seem to agree with; if MOST of you like something, then odds are, it'll pan out in the end. But also, don't worry, because if you end up changing in the future... that's okay. You're supposed to. Everybody changes.

And also, as much as possible, compromise with those parts who are dissatisfied. Numb and Debbie have to deal with teaching, but we make it a bearable as possible in the times when they do front. We carve out time for everyone else's passions, even when it's hard to juggle all of that -- and when it gets too much to juggle, we have conversations with each other about what takes our priority (which, in the end, is almost always our health, and probably should always be our health).

Being a system is a lesson on collaborative teamwork. I wish you luck with yours <3