#if you're trying to encourage an update out of me this does absolutely nothing

[gasmeros]

"please update" what if i said no ._.

[joelscruff]

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

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

It's crazy how one weekend can change everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?"

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe your mother can solve this problem for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you do?"

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

"Did you go to your lesson on Saturday?"

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

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

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

"So have you? Been making progress?"

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

"Which ones are you learning?"

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For what?"

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

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

Your stomach twists uncomfortably.

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

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

"Just.... bein' open."

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

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

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

Oh. You didn't know that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're looking at his daughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But you did."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's fuckin' crazy about you.

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

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

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

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

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

"Need it deep inside, huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shiver, "Why didn't you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?"

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

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

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

The anxiety settles, and you believe him.

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His expression falters, "Why, baby?"

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

"I like driving, it's peaceful."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels so fucking good to have Joel Miller.

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

buying lingerie, what is this?? help!!

Of course, Tasha is the first to reply:

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

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

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

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

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

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

why is being sexy so awkward and expensive?

welcome to my life sister

158 DOLLARS FOR 3 SCRAPS OF MATERIAL

that's it, let it all out

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, cool."

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

"Is it that obvious?"

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles, "What were you expectin'?"

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

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

"Did you remind her?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle, "Yeah, probably not."

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

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

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

"Tangled Up in Blue, Bob Dylan."

"I knew it was Bob Dylan."

"Good ear. You play?"

"Um, not really."

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Need your pussy touched, baby?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

Hold on...

Angel

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

You wince, "Oh. Right."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

This is too much, you want to say.

How much did you spend? you want to ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

He does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shiver at the thought.

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

Are you in Dallas yet?

Let me know when you arrive.

What hotel are you staying at?

Text me back now.

Where are you?

Answer the phone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You read the message again, and then again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's a beat of silence, then -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But it -"

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

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

"What d'you mean?"

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

"Is that my crucifix?" you ask quietly.

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you.

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

But you already know that it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod quickly, expression hazy, "Yes."

"How wet?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he says slow - he means slow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hurts?" he asks softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You close your eyes, breathe him in.

I love you.

[flootzavut]

This is your irregular reminder that if you are frustrated with a fic not being finished with, it's not just probable but likely that your pet fanwriter is more frustrated with it than you could ever be. Be nice to your pet fanwriter, it's tough out there when the muse isn't talking to you & life isn't going well. Please don't assume we just don't care or have abandoned stories without saying so, & bear in mind that approaching comments with that attitude is also absolutely the worst way to achieve your desired result. Absolutely nothing is as dispiriting to me personally as getting a comment that's just complaining that something hasn't been updated, or badgering me about something that hasn't been explained yet.

That's not to say that you can't ask for updates! I love when people are excited to read more. Just don't demand, don't act entitled, don't assume your pet fanwriter just couldn't be arsed.

Ways to ask that don't make me want to throw something:

"I loved this story, I'm subscribing!"

"I can't wait to see what happens next, I really enjoyed XYZ thing that happened in this chapter."

"I'd love to see more in this 'verse, but I really enjoyed this."

"[if you're a writer, any kind of empathetic understanding that writer's block sucks]."

"[Almost any kind of real review] Looking forward to more/Can't wait for the next chapter!"

Basically, let your pet fanwriter know what you enjoyed, let them know that you're excited for more, but don't act like you paid them for a complete story and only got half. We write fanfic for free, for love of the show/book/media and for love of the fandom. We get paid in kudos and comments only. We have lives, some of them more conducive to turning out fic regularly than others. We too have been affected by the pandemic and other shit that's happening in the world.

And I cannot overstate this, so I'm saying it again: complaining, demanding, etc, do not get you the result you want. Well okay, there may be a few people out there for whom someone stomping into their inbox and going "WHERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER?" will work, but they're the exception, not the rule. I have talked with at the very least dozens and dozens, if not hundreds, of fanwriters over multiple fandoms, and I've yet to meet one who gets a comment like that and is inspired to go to their word processor. At best, it makes them go "ahhh shit I guess it's been a while since I updated that"; at worst (and in my experience most common), it puts them off writing that particular story or possibly anything, because the only feedback they're getting is "not good enough, not fast enough, you owe me more" and that sucks.

(If you know the person very, very well and know they will take it as a joke or that they are one of the few who gets inspired by this, that's the exception, but don't do it on stories written by people who are strangers to you.)

Frankly, you're much, much more likely to prod your pet fanwriter into creating more by typing "♥️" and hitting the kudos button than by trying to guilt them into it. Guilt doesn't work. Encouragement does. If your desired end result is "they finish the story" then "why haven't you finished the story/where is the next chapter/update soon" is absolutely not going to achieve that. It's helping absolutely no one.

Train yourself to leave a heart or a "loved this, can't wait for more" or even just a kudos instead of a demand, and you at the very least have not made your fanwriter feel useless that day, and might have inspired them go back to the coalface.

At the end of the day, it boils down to treating your pet fanwriter as a human whose life probably doesn't revolve solely around updating the one fic you're obsessed with. Have a heart, that's all 🙂

[writercole]

Update Update Update

Okay sue me, I like that New Orleans view.

Let's talk, besties! Here's what's going on with me.

Feeling a bit of a burnout with writing. Don't misunderstand me - I'm still writing. I'm just chasing different stories right now.

Most of you guys know - I've been really open about this - that I've been struggling to find a job for almost 2 years now. Well, I finally got an opportunity. It starts training on May 1 but I'm pretty...skeptical because I've been screwed over so many times. I should note that there is nothing that suggests that this is a screwover but I'm just pessimistic at this point.

That's going to do one of two things - either I'm going to be writing a lot more or a lot less. I'm hoping it's the former.

I have like 100 stories in development currently and I get more and more ideas every day. Some of these are fanfic, some of them are probably going to be publications. Keep an eye here and at @coleslibrary for any updates or new publishing announcements.

My first three books are all available on Amazon currently and the next one will be there as well. I'm going to go ahead and say that instead of minor rewrites and name changes, this next one, the rewrite of Sounds of Someday, is going to be a whole new story. The basic plot will stay the same but so many details are going to be changed that it's going to read as all new.

Master lists are going to be posting throughout the next month. Mostly actor specific ones that I've been having in my drafts for far too long. They will be updated accordingly.

Most of my upcoming stuff will be collections - stories set in the same universe that don't have to be read together and contain multiple main characters. The first of those is my country club collection - A Drive For Love - starting with Golf Pro Bradley Bradshaw.

Last year I promised a Dad!Jake series. Well, good news on that front. I'm about halfway through writing the series. You'll Be In My Heart should be debuting in the next month or so. It does have to go back through my betas but each chapter will be a different POV and will vary in word count but will contain one scene. The FMC has been changed from a reader to an OC. I'm sure this will affect readership but I don't really care.

I think that's about it on that front. I want to send out a couple of shoutouts to a couple of people before I finish here.

First, @princessmisery666, Stacey, babe, I don't know what I'd do without you. You've become the Opie to my Jax, the level headed guiding light to my chaotic ways. Though you do encourage some of my more angsty ideas and I love you for that. I love you, period. I got this. 💞

To @ryebecca. You're my twinsie and my sounding board. You help my rational brain take over the emotional side more often than not and never make me feel bad for having a different opinion. I love you mostest.

To @imjess-themess and @blue-aconite. You two beautiful souls keep me grounded on days where I'm trying to dissociate all the time. I know you don't realize the things you do to help my mental state lately but just know that the two of you mean the world to me. I love you both.

@fuckyeahhangman. What can I say about your gorgeous face other than I absolutely love it like a cat loves sunshine.

@wildbornsiren My swamp gremlin. The amount of times I've turned to you when I've had a bad day is steadily increasing and I am so grateful for your acceptance of my insanity. I love you!

And last but certainly not least @never--doubt. I know I say it all the time, but I'm so proud of you and so thankful for your friendship. You're like the little sibling I always wanted and I'm so happy that we found one another through this hellsite.

If you're reading this and you're not listed, fret not. I still love you. I just might have forgotten what your new URLs are.

[gogolstoelicker]

Could you do obey me with riddle like mc

You have a strong commitment to maintaining order amomg your peers. You made it your duty to uphold hundreds of rules, no matter how strange or insignificant they are. You could be strict and intimidating by the people around you because of this.

You unfortunately have the tendency to lash out at someone who disagree with your way of thinking, as you consider your values to be right no matter what. But you seemes to find a way to compromise now, instead of instantly punishing rule breakers.

a/n: hello I haven't been updating or even answering any asks and i am very sorry💀i may or may not forgot i wrote here so I'll try to make it up to my bbg /j and my tumblr family

btw why cant i space in tumblr anymore my god this looks so messy

Lucifer:

you're officially the second in command in the house of lamentation

its usually who screams the loudest who will be in command that day

you're strict, he's strict

you gave scary punishment, lucifer gave scary punishment

no one dared to cross either of u in the devildom

its straight up one man for themselves once they saw the both of u

if y'all ever got into a fight, all of the brothers find a spot to hide

whether it be behind the couch, inside the oven, on the ceiling, they WILL save themselves first

because you both are SCARY when the other disagrees with the other

which, thankfully does not happen a lot bc yall have the same mindset sometimes💀

but when the fight did happen??? oh devildom someone save the wall it have a whole hole

even cerberus is in fear😰/j

but overall?? a powerful duo💪 both gave people enough reason to fear them

tho lucifer is kind of upset with u sometimes

not bc you're bad, no no

its because you're ACTUALLY rivalling him🤨😔he cant have someone being better than him yknow? his pride won't allow that

like you're smart and got 90+ on all ur exam papers???

suddenly lucifer is putting extra effort into his studies even tho he's smart enough

you're diligent and hardworking and always got praised by diavolo himSELF????

uh oh why is his work hours increasing😰😰

someone stop him before he marry his own desk

Mammon:

always got collared by you

well at least it's not lucifer punishing him this time😰

ur punishment is less scarier than lucifer's

still scary anyway

he usually dropped to the floor and sobbed whenever he got collared

not literally ofc

but then walked off to the casino a few minutes after like nothing happened with the collar on his neck

everyone in the casino that day: 🤨what kinky shit u doing⁉️

mammon: it's nOT-

hides his grades from u bc u absolutely will not tolerate any fails

failed miserably just like his grades

u knocked on his door and enter his room the next day with a thickass book

hes lowkey scared you're abt to knowledge whack him

until u tell him u personally read through every single book u can find that might help him and shorten them as best as you can into a book

and told him to memoriza everything inside

he cried

bc of two things

one OMG YOU'RE DOING THIS FOR HIM?$!$????? U READ THROUGH SO MANY BOOKS FOR HIM?$!$??? HES SOBBING AND CRYING AND WAILING AND-

two HOW THE HELL IS HE SUPPOSED TO MEMORIZE ALL THAT

he did try at least

well a lil

sometimes he just gave up and go do his things again before he got caught by u

Leviathan:

his grades lowkey improved tho pls be proud of him🥹😂

well u did encouraged him a little after that☺🙏‼️and with an almost whack of knowledge!!

got into ur hellish (literally) lessons on why he shouldn't stay in his room too much and avoid socializing

he is now sobbing

he doesn't really care bc he can do whatever he wants!!

he said that in a whisper yell voice so u can't really hear him

which leads him to another lesson on how and why he should speak up LMAO💀

he's on edge but he's trying not to piss u off so he just listens through everything

don't wanna be like a certain someone now right

COUGH COUGH mammon COUGH COUGH

lucifer is snickering at him btw

lucifer is leaning on his doorway and is watching everything

honestly he mostly avoids being in ur line of sight so u wouldn't mind him and hopefully and not hopefully forgot abt him!!^^

pls don't forget abt him he'll be sad but pls forget abt him so he'll be able to escape ur ways

as u can see, he is pretty conflicted

on one hand he loves those times you're more relaxed and is more willing to spend time and do the things he likes

but whenever its weekdays, my god😥

see its so bad he said god

HELP IMAGINE AT LIKE 4:30AM

you who just woke up seeing levi: good morning, its rare to see one of u up so early in the morning for school levi, who was about to go to sleep: uh-

Satan:

frowning and stomping his feet when he first saw u bc why are u kind of like lucifer??!!@@!?!!?

one is enough, he doesn't need another one😡

kind of tolerates u

u can understand why he avoids u a lil but u did try to make an effort for him to warm up to u bc yall live in the same building

went from "FUCK THIS LUCIFER WANNABE🙄🤬"

to "i still hate this person but only I get to hate on them"

its a love hate relationship

he loves having small debates with u

got mad when he loses and u have that smug look on ur face tho

same goes for the other way around

he may or may not have shared his fav books with u

u would find the time to read it even with how busy u are

bc it looks interesting + youre glad hes warming up to u a lil!!

idk what to write sorry yall

i havent been playing obey me for a while forgive this poor soul i can be a good discord kitten /JOKE

Asmodeus:

gushes about u so much

you're scary? too bad, not in his eyes!

insists on dressing u up every single day bc you're just too cute in his eyes that he can't resist

Beelzebub:

you're fine with him doing that as long as its not too flashy and is neat

you're not all that into fashion so u always just go to him for advice if theres anything u need help with

he have shiny eyes

he was also clutching his chest from the overwhelming happiness

one time he tried to gossip with u and u go "no, that is wrong"

he goes "😕🙄anyways so-"

he continued the gossip btw

u listened to him anyway bc its not like u can stop him💀

plus hes calling u boring bc of that so u just 🧍🏻‍♀️

if someone ever gave him a strawberry tart while hes on a diet, he'll just pass it to u

bc he said ur sparkly eyes🥺are totes adorbs he could not hold posting u on social media<3!!

pls don't cry bc of that part

doesn't care as long as u don't hurt nobody

Belphegor:

u kind of tiny tho🤔or maybe he's just too tall

prolly mentioned it once and it got u going tomatoes

learned his lesson from that day onwards to never mention anything about your height

its ok u lowkey forgot abt it!!

/j u made remarks abt it here and there☺🙏‼️ofc not everyday, just when youre feeling a tiny weeny bitzy petty

beel is very helpful about everything tho!

u need help with that book that someone deliberately put up so high for the laughs? he got u

its like those kdramas moment

"is this what u wanted?" hands touched, shiny screen, flowers everywhere, slowmo, music playing

as thanks u helped him with his workout

which is literally him doing pushups with u on his back reading a book

sometimes u join him on those workouts bc u need a balance between studies and sports‼️

beel tried his best to uh😅lay down a bit for ur sake😅

like sure he can do 100586496 pushups but that doesn't mean u can and hes honestly worried abt u pushing urself💀

speaking of pushing urself, if he ever saw u so busy with ur studies and the shenanigans around devildom, he'll give u a half-eaten strawberry tart

he tried not to eat it on the way but no promises yknow😚☺

u thanked him for it anyway KSKAKSNS

look at this tiny chihuahua on the other side of the bars im in😂😂😂

he said that to himself

bc he knows he would ruin his chances of having u pull him outta the ceilint???? wtf was he in again????? if u heard that

OH RIGHT ATTIC I HOPE THATS HOW U SPELL IT

how he even got u to go up there when you follow the rules so much?$!$??? idk but he do him ig

HELP IMAGINE HIS PLAN FAILED FROM THE START THAT'LL BE EMBARRASSING

"mind ur own business and never go up there" "oh ok my bad"

and then the end he never got out

its ok i'd like to ignore that possibility and make u go up for plot reasons

i have no plots actually im just telling u to go up there

honestly i dont think he'll be able to kill u??????5"5???

because like

imagine trying to hug the homie to death and bro just pulled out a book worth of hundreds of rules and flipped to page where it said no touching before marriage💀

could probably whack him with that same book if he tried anything too so!!☺

im giving how to escape belphegor's death hug tips

plus you're a mage(?)!!!😂🙏‼️you'll survive!!

after all that shenanigans you absolutely does not approve of how he live his life

why are u sleeping on the floor!?!?!!!??? GRT UP

STOP SLEEPING IN CLASS🤬

belphie after he have to deal with both u and Lucifer:

[fruitcoops]

I absolutely love your fics!!! Thank you for sharing your talent with the world. If you're interested, do you think you could write a fic where Finn gets injured in a game against Tampa? O'Hara brothers ftw ♥️♥️♥️

Ohohohoho yes. It's 'missing your big brother so you write siblings' hours, and all of you are trapped in here with me. Combined with prompts for cubs hurt comfort/ poly love (@hi-im-phoenix) and distraction hurt/ comfort for AJ. Sorry about your manager <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for bone inJuries

The crowd was roaring. Finn couldn’t catch his breath. His arm was on fire.

Something like a sob broke free in his chest, but he could do little more than hiccup in pain and fear from his place laying flat on his back atop the unforgiving ice. He couldn’t move his fingers. His elbow throbbed. Everything in between just hurt.

“—fuck is wrong with you?” an angry voice shouted, followed by a flash of blue and white shoving at the man whose late hit had left him suspended in shock. Finn didn’t know if it had been on purpose, but he didn’t really care anymore as a tear tracked down to his ear. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the bright lights overhead.

A hand cradled one side of his jaw, warm and clammy on his cold skin. “Talk to me, mon amour, what’s wrong?”

“Lo,” he croaked, swallowing hard. “I’m okay. ‘m okay, promise. I’m okay.”

“Out of my way!” The blue and white blob pushed closer before kneeling next to him. A helmet hit the ice, followed by a glove; heavy hands settled on his shoulders, and the one on his face disappeared. “Finn? Finn, look at me.”

Finn’s chest hitched once, twice, hard. His head was pounding, and everything hurt. He may have been able to reassure Logan, but he had never been able to hide from his brother. “Alex.”

“Hey, buddy,” he soothed as Finn finally regained enough breath to gasp around his tears. “No, no, shhh. You’re gonna be just fine, yeah? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Hurts,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain had reached his shoulder and every movement was agony. “It hurts, it hurts—Alex, it hurts.”

“What hurts?”

He could hear people calling for medics. His friends, his family. But Alex stayed right there next to him, holding his good hand and brushing his tears away. “My arm,” Finn said, feeling as pathetic as he ever had. “Alex, it hurts so bad.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers for me?” Finn sobbed again as he shook his head and saw the encouraging smile slide of Alex’s face. “That’s alright, buddy, just take some deep breaths.”

“I don’t wanna be out,” Finn blubbered. “I gotta play.”

Alex gave his hand a light squeeze. “It’s not that bad, Fish. Deep breaths.”

He managed a handful—and admittedly felt a little better—but the alarms in his head were still blaring when Remus arrived with the medic, all but carrying him across the ice to get to Finn. He had a smudge of a bruise beneath his eye, but the worry creasing his brow overtook anything else. “I’m good, Loops,” Finn panted as the medic sat next to him. “Totally cool.”

“28, I’m going to need you to make some room,” the medic ordered. Fear spiked in Finn’s heart when he met Alex’s gaze, but he found only determination looking back.

“I’m not leaving,” Alex said simply.

The medic glanced down. “Can you stand?”

“I think so?” Finn said hesitantly, trying to get cool air back into his lungs. “It’s—I think I broke my arm. Everything else is okay.”

“What’s your pain level?”

“Eight. And a half,” he added. Alex frowned.

“Let’s get you off this ice, yeah?” The medic patted him gently on the shoulder. “O’Hara, can you get him up?”

“Keep that one close,” Alex murmured, sliding his arm under Finn’s shoulders. He clenched his teeth around a cry of pain as his bad arm was jostled, but Alex was strong and steady, and within a few seconds he was on his feet. “Easy does it, bud. I’ve got you.”

“Fucking shit,” Finn wheezed as he tried to close his hand. The fear and adrenaline had faded, but involuntary tears sprang to his eyes anyway. Alex held him upright without faltering despite his wobbly legs; they made it to the bench in a blur of movement that made Finn dizzy.

“We can take him from here,” the medic said to Alex.

“I’ll be fine,” Finn said, cutting him off just as he opened his mouth. “Go play. Your boys need you.”

Alex pressed his lips together in obvious frustration, but tapped their helmets together and skated back to his own bench. Finn let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “O’Hara?”

“I’m good,” he assured the medic.

“If you feel like you need to throw up, let me know.”

“No. No, I’m good. Just hurts.”

He caught a glimpse of the clock as they headed down the tunnel—ten minutes left in the period. Finn steeled himself for a long stretch of being alone in a medical room and tried to focus on something over than the unbearable heat and throbbing in his arm.

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

Leo traced the edge of the splint with a deep-set frown, but said nothing. His other thumb ran in gentle lines up and down Finn’s waist, kept there by Logan’s side pressing close. “You’re sure you’re alright?” Logan asked softly as he placed a kiss on the corner of Finn’s mouth.

“I promise.” They had barely traded ten words—both had shown up the second the game ended, stripping off their pads and skates in the entrance to the medical room before sandwiching Finn between them. Leo had been unusually quiet. They had won the game; from what Finn saw on the television in the corner of the room, Alex had reamed out the guy that hit Finn with a vengeance. Tampa had been disjointed, and the Lions swept in as a cohesive pack, out for blood.

“I was worried about you,” Leo said at last, resting his temple on Finn’s shoulder. He sighed, then shifted impossibly closer. “Couldn’t get through the crowd.”

“I thought Talker and Loops were gonna kill that guy after he hit you,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “Looks like Alex did it for him.”

“What, you didn’t get into your shining armor for me?” Finn teased, nuzzling his nose against Logan’s cheek to draw even a slight smile from him.

“Maybe next time.”

“No,” Leo mumbled, linking his fingers with Finn’s purple ones and lifting them to his lips for a brief kiss. It was a clean break, but would still take weeks to heal. Big blue eyes landed on him, melting his heart like they always did. “No ‘next times’, okay?”

“Aw, Knutty,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. He wrapped one arm around each of them and held them tight, soaking in the feeling of having both crushed against him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Logan tucked his face into Finn’s neck. “Nothing to be sorry for, mon rouge. We’re just glad you’re alright.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said from the door. Alex shifted his weight back and forth, twisting his baseball cap in his hands like he always did when he was nervous. Finn didn’t hesitate before extracting himself from the cuddle pile and crossing the room; Alex met him halfway and engulfed him in a hug. A shudder ran through him under Finn’s palms. “Jesus, Finn, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Finn mumbled into his hoodie, letting himself be cocooned by distilled safety. Even out of his skates, Alex had a good two inches on him, and he had always been the broader of the two—Finn suddenly felt about six years old, as if he had just skinned his knee on the sidewalk.

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Closed break, clean fracture. I’ll be out for a month or two.” He stepped back and swiped a hand under his nose, then tilted his head toward Leo and Logan with a wry smile. “But I’ve got these two to look after me.”

Alex scanned his face for a moment; his mouth dipped on one side. “I called mom and dad, told ‘em you’re okay. You should tell them yourself, though. They were freaking out.”

“I will,” Finn promised.

The worry creasing his brow didn’t diminish as he wrapped Finn in his arms again, holding him tight. “Keep me updated, yeah? If I don’t hear from you, I’ll get the captain on your ass, and he won’t be as nice about it as I will.”

“Deal.”

“Knutty, Lo, drive safe. If he tries to pull some stupid shit, I’m counting on your survival skills to stop it.”

“Survival skills?” Leo half-laughed.

Alex pulled away and raised his eyebrows. “They don’t call me Hurricane O’Hara for nothing.”

His eyes flickered back to Finn, who was horrified to see slight redness around the rims despite the teasing in his voice. “Alex,” he said softly. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“I know.” His voice was gruff, but it poorly hid a sniffle as he bumped their foreheads together. “But I’m your brother. It’s my job to worry about you. I hate that one of my guys was at fault here.”

Finn tried for a smile, socking him on the arm. “Six weeks, and I’ll be good as new.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” With a final survey of his face and a kiss to the top of his head, Alex headed back out into the hall with his shoulders up near his ears. Finn sighed; he hated it when Alex was upset, and even more when there was nothing he could do to fix it except wait. He didn’t know what he’d do if one of his teammates broke his brother.

“Fish?” Leo was smiling when he turned around. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What kind?”

“The kind where I pull out all the sob story pity points on Cap’s soft heart and get us babysitting privileges for his incredibly fluffy dog after three months of constant begging.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Make sure you look extra sad when we leave,” Logan advised. “We can’t lose this opportunity because you were too perky about a broken arm.”

“Quick, someone make me cry.”

Leo’s grin turned to horror. “What?”

“No!” Logan said at the same time.

“You guys are killing me here,” Finn groaned. “Just, like, hit me in the arm or something.”

“No!” they shouted in unison.

“You said I need to look sad!”

“I meant pout and sigh!” Logan pulled him over by the hem of his shirt in clear distress. “You’ve already cried too much tonight. No more.”

“Alright,” Finn agreed, already wracking his brain for any smidgen of drama skills he might have acquired over the years. Younger siblings were always the best actors, of course—he had given some Oscar-worthy performances to his mom when Alex got on his nerves as a kid—but Sirius was tough to fool. Maybe if he stayed quiet and didn’t risk opening his mouth they would get away with it.

Leo let out a slow exhale against his chest and snuggled closer before standing. “Come on, darlin,” he said with a kiss to Finn’s forehead. “Let’s get you settled. We’ll take a shower, have some dinner, and then we can put a movie on.”

“Mighty Ducks?” Finn asked hopefully.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

[skipps-writes-for-gojo-satoru]

SFW ALPHABET A-Z

Gojo Satoru Edition 💙

note: I just want to thank everyone for making this blog hit 500+ followers. Never in my wildest dreams would have thought to have a writing blog and a one that is so supported and loved. I love everyone single of my followers and readers who took the time to read my content. English isn’t my first language so I struggle a lot when writing since I make a lot of typos and I barely have any writing skills. Even though I reread it to check I still manage to find some typos so I’m constantly editing, even my old posts. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You have no idea how happy each comment or reblogs makes me, I love reading what you guys think. I will continue to work hard for you guys and the jkk community! Please look forward to future updates my lovelies! ❤

A= Admiration (How do they admire you? What is their thoughts about you? What is their reaction in meeting you for the first time? Do they instantly like you?)

Gojou loves staring at you and he's not afraid if he gets caught.

Even if you're doing chores or you're laughing with the first years. You could of just woken up with messy hair, drool dried on the corner of your mouth and he'll still think you're the most beautiful person in the world.

When he stares at you it's as if the world slows down and everyone goes in slow motion. He'll notice the twinkle in your eyes or how you suddenly shifted to your right. As he's in a trace where his hearts flutters at the sight of you.

His Six Eyes will notice even the tiniest detail about you.

Even in a crowded room his eyes will immediately try to find your form. You're the first person he seeks whenever and wherever.

He likes to boast about you to everyone, especially his students. You're his lover and he's proud to have you.

To him, you're his equal, his safe haven. You're the only person he can truly let his guard down with. You love him not because "he's the strongest shaman" but just as "Satoru" and that's something he thinks about that makes him feel all warm inside.

You're his everything, he wouldn't know what would he do if he ever loses you. If Gojou truly loves you he will fully commit to it.

You and Gojou didn't exactly start off on the right foot.

You thought he was too arrogant and annoying.

While he thought you were weak and boring.

You quickly proved that wrong, and his perception of you changed. He would often tease you and find opportunities to spar with you.

You slowly started to grow on each other from rivals to lovers.

He's still annoying though.

B= Bestie (Do they act like best friends while dating? How comfortable are they with you?)

Why absolutely! You guys are lovers at the same time bestfriends.

Gojou is very comfortable around you. He's pretty confident man already but when he's around you there's no breaks for this man.

He will do the wackiest and craziest things just see you laugh and smile.

You both tell each other everything, such as recent turn of events or even student gossip. He loves to gossip.

You can expect him to wake you up at 2 am just to go to McDonald's while blasting music from the car while you both sing on top of your lungs.

Of course there will be moments where both have arguments or disagreements but they don't last long. They get solved pretty easily.

"Wanna get icecream?"

"Fine, but you're playing."

Gojou can be quite obnoxious at times and you're not afraid to let him know. He doesn't listen and still annoy you anyways.

But now you should be used to his antics and don't take them too seriously.

There is no such thing as a boundary for this man.

He can literally become your safe haven during sad times or hell as he tickles you until you cry.

C= Cuddles (How often do they cuddle? How are they when they cuddle? What cuddle position do they like best? Are they the Big Spoon or Little Spoon?)

If he could, Gojou would always want to be cuddling with you. Whenever and wherever you both are.

He loves the feeling of having you in his arms or him in your arms. His home is where your arms are. It's one of the moments where his Infinity isn't activated.

He wrap his long limps around you and bring you as physically close as possible so he can nuzzle against you or press kisses to you.

Whenever he's in a cuddling mood or he's feeling stressed he'll come to find you and pull you to the nearest chair. He'll have you sit in his lap while he embraces you tightly. He won't go until he's satisfied too!

He usually prefers to be the bigger spoon, he likes the idea that you're safe within his arms. Sometimes he'll just stare at you while you sleep, smiling to himself as he drifts off to sleep.

If you're both in bed you must cuddle! It's a rule he made up.

He doesn't being the little spoon either, he loves the feeling of when you playing with hair. He truly feels comfortable and vulnerable within your arms.

He can't decide with position he likes best, he just likes the feeling of your body close to his.

D= Domestic (Are they willing to settle down with you? Are they willing to do chores? What do you two do at home?)

Gojou never thought he would settle down. That is until he met you!

With his busy and dangerous lifestyle, he thought he would spend the rest of his days alone.

Being with him, is a huge risk. The higher ups or the enemies would use you as a bargaining chip.

After lots of convincing, that you'll promise to be by his side forever. You'll have his heart now and forever.

Gojou when he's at home...he's lazy. He'll be munching on some snacks, lying on the sofa while you hang the laundry.

Somedays he's tired from work, so you let him be but if he really isn't doing anything. Some threats work really well on him.

"If you don't don't do the laundry, you're sleeping on the sofa tonight!"

"Then I'm off to do it!"

Having growing up with servants, he's not used to doing household chores.

But he will try, because he doesn't want you take take on the full workload. Teach him, he's a fast learner!

At home, within your arms is where he feels safest. Majority of the time you two would be in contact with each other one way or another.

You're watching tv? He's sitting you with his arm around your shoulder. If you're cooking, he'll come and unexpectedly hug you from behind. This man craves your touch.

Watching movies or television is something you both do very often, you'll both be snuggled up together, while Gojou throws commentary here and there.

Cooking or baking is another thing you both do. Majority of the time you both rarely get to spend together due to Gojou's work schedule. Who ever arrives home first will have to make dinner. However, you two are both at home you both help each other make a delicious dessert or meal. Nothing like eating a home cooked meal together.

Playing video games together is a must! You're his player number 2. He's very competitive so if he wins, it's non stop boasting but if he loses he demands an immediate rematch. Mario Kart or Super Smash Brothers is some the common ones you both play.

E= Endeavor (Are they supportive in you trying to do something? Will they help you reach for it?)

Gojou Satoru is known to be your literal hype man.

He will be very supportive of you and what you're trying to accomplish. As long as it's not something like becoming a murder. He's gonna have to do a double take on that.

If you're gonna become a piano, he'll have a grand piano delivered straight to your home. If you're gonna become an artist, he will buy you the best art supplies.

As they say "live your life to the fullest" and Gojou completely agrees with that statement.

If you're trying to learn something new, he will be encouraging you. There are times where he can be a little but don't take it to heart. He just wants you to improve and sugarcoating things isn't always the best way to improve.

If you're feeling down but you're trying to achieve, he'll be there to comfort you and motivate you.

"Things won't always go your way, but I promise I'll be there to cheer you on."

If you're trying to learn a new skill, he might have a go at it too. He's a fast learner but if he doesn't or can't do something, he'll just blame it on the fact that if he does it then he's gonna become perfect so he chooses not to. It's just to save his huge ego.

F= Fights (How often do you guys fight? Who apologizes first? How long will the fight last? What is the reason behind the fight?)

You guys argue pretty often but they're mostly about trival issues. Like Gojou forgot to take out the trash or who cooks today.

If you both do fight seriously. It would definitely have to do with "work". Because of Gojou's busy schedule you're not sure when will he be back home or when he will be gone. If you both have very different schedules it would definitely lead to some misunderstandings.

If you realize you did something wrong you'll apologize to him right away. While he spouts things like "I told you so!" but he's only teasing.

If he realizes he did something wrong it'll take him a while for him to admit it. Depending on the seriousness of the situation his apology will differ.

If it's something trivial, he'll just pepper you with kisses while says sorry a hundred times.

If it's serious, he'll fully embrace you and apologize, straight to the point no needless words.

Trivial fights don't last long but serious one may take time. Depending on who's wrong or right.

Gojou is a stubborn person so even if he's wrong it'll take him a while to admit it. Maybe days or a week but no longer than that. After all he can't resist not being around you.

G= Guard (Are they protective of you? How protective are they? Are they willing to risk themselves to save you?)

This depends whether you're a shaman or a civilian.

If you are a civilian, he will be very protective of you. You don't have the ability to see curses so who knows what or when can hurt you.

He'll take sure to put lots of talismans and barriers around your home for safety.

Gojou due to his busy work schedule won't always be home or be around you. During these days he's worried sick about you.

He'll be sure to message or call you whenever he can to check up on you.

If he truly senses you're in danger, no matter what he'll go to you instantly. After that happens he'll more frightened of losing you and might resort to leaving you.

Despite how much he loves you, you're life is more precious than him. He can't risk that by being around you.

If you're a shaman just like him, he won't be as protective over you. He'll understand and trust that you'll be able to defend yourself.

He'll make sure to spar with you so that you won't lose in touch in fighting.

Even though he knows you can take care of yourself, in his heart he still worries for you. So he may or may not pop up randomly during your missions and exorcise the curse immediately.

You may end up getting annoyed or mad at him because you may think he thinks you're weak but that's not the case. He just loves you and worries about you.

Whether you're a civilian or shaman, Gojou will 100% risk his life to save you. He's lost so many people, he can't afford lose you too.

If you're out in public, he'll be sure to be holding your hand or have an arm around your waist. He'll glare at anyone who looks at you funny through his sunglasses.

Gojou has a massive presence so good luck to anyone who tries to approach you. They gotta get through him first.

H= Healing (What is their reaction in you getting hurt? Do they get hurt often? Do they help you patching you up? Or do they not know how to patch you up, and tries their hardest?)

Gojou hates seeing you hurt in anyway. Even if it's a tiny wound. It's kinda like if you're hurt he's hurt too. That's his way of thinking.

If you get injured during a mission, you can bet Gojou will be all over you.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"For the hundred time, yes..."

Despite your assurance that are fine, he'll still insist to take you to Shoko just to be safe.

If it's a trivial wound like you accidentally cut yourself or you stubbed your toe. Gojou will be the one to take care of the wound. He does have basic knowledge on how to treat wounds.

If it's a severe wound, he'll instantly bring you to Shoko. He'll teleport all the way from Hokkaido to Tokyo if he has to.

He doesn't know how to use the Reverse Cursed Technique but at the moment when you're dying in his arms he will try his best to.

He will literally become your human shield if he knows things are dire.

If he sees an enemy wound you, well it's gonna be game over for the enemy. Instant oblivion.

It is known that Gojou has his Infinity activated at all times, so he doesn't ever get hurt whether from missions or trivial issues.

Very rare but when he does turn off his Infinity he can get hurt but it's because he let's it happen.

He still gets sick from time to time because that's something his Infinity can't protect him from.

I= Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do you two often go on dates?)

Gojou as we all know is very affectionate and romantic person.

He's very cheesy and likes to tease you just to see you blush.

He can't keep his hands off of you, he has to be touching you even just by lacing your fingers together. He also likes to stand near you often behind you or right beside you.

Gojou goes all over Japan for his missions and he makes sure to always bring a souvenir home for you whether it's a little trinket or something you'll like. Definitely will buy sweets, he'll share just a little though.

You'll often be surprised with deliveries of bouquets at work addressed to you but not written from who but you know who it is.

This man is extremely rich, so you ever have an eye on something, he'll secretly buy it for you.

When you're cold, he'll give you his jacket or hug you to keep you warm. If you're feeling hot under the sun, use this man as your personal shade. He doesn't mind.

It's rare for the both of you to have day offs at the same time so it's always something special to him.

He'll either take you out shopping or a cafe date.

He loves going around Tokyo with you to different places and secretly takes pictures of you when you're not looking.

If you don't feel like going anywhere he's fine with just cuddling you while watching a movie.

Gojou just has a sense for you if you're feeling down or stressed. He'll instantly know and would try to make you feel better.

He can cook your favorite meal or even give you a massage.

He's not shy to show the world how much he loves you, everyone in the Jujutsu society knows about you two.

J= Jealousy (How often do they get jealous? Do they get easily jealous? How will they react?)

Gojou doesn't get jealous easily. He trusts you and knows the things you do and won't do. However, on rare occasions it does happen but he won't directly voice it out.

"I'm the strongest most handsome shaman ever!" But behind that he still has insecurities. It usually depends on the person you're interacting with. If he sees you getting a little too close to someone, he'll step inーcausally stepping in between the two of you. A hand around your waist around strangers and a full on back hug around people he knows.

If a stranger tries to pick you up, he'll swoop right in towering the poor stranger. He knows he's attractive and he knows show to use it.

"Pay attention to me (Y/N), not Nanami!.

"Satoru, we're talking the recent sighting of a grade 1 cursed spirit."

Afterwards he'll just be very whiny and needy, he wants your full attention on him and him only!

K= Kissing (Do they like kissing you? Are they shy or confident in kissing you?)

Gojou Satoru loves all forms of affection. Kissing being one of them.

Gojou has had experience with kissing so he knows what he's doing. One moment he'll be kissing you sweetly then it turns into a full blown make out session.

He's not embarrassed about kissing you in public. Despite the Japanese culture of being conservative of PDA. He won't be making out with you in front of the entire crosswalk but he'll give you pecks or smooches that last a moment or two.

Whenever he leaves for work, he'll always ask for his goodbye kiss or when he's back home he'll be eagerly waiting for your kiss.

Whenever you both pass by each other whether at home or at school, he'll press a chaste kiss to you.

His tongue is divine, he definitely knows how to use his tongue. You can bet he knows how to tie a cherry into a knot using just his tongue.

You will always taste something sweet lingering on him as you kiss him.

He doesn't have a specific type of kiss he likes, he likes them all as long as they're with you. Forehead kisses, cheek kisses, eskimo kisses you name it!

He will definitely will to try out all forms of kisses with you.

L= Love (Who drops the L-word first? Would they rather say it or do it?)

Love is a complicated feeling, Gojou hasn't felt that before with any of his past relationships.

That was until he met you. That's when he realized that what the feeling was.

You were cuddling in bed together, face to face. There was no talking just silence as the two of you stare deeply into each other's eyes. Only the light of the moonlight peaking through the curtains illuminating the room.

Gojou stares into your eyes with a soft smile on his face as he gently lays his hand on your cheek.

Your eyes held the universe within them, the universe that is you and it's staring back at him with so much love and affection within them. He feels the warmth spread throughout his body. He whispers softly "I love you..." as his own eyes reflect yours.

You gasp with eyes widening, processing the words he spoke. You feel your eyes well up in tears, as your cheeks warm. You place your hand over his and whisper back "I love you too.." smiling brightly at him.

That was the moment when he first told you he loved you, it was so genuine and raw.

Afterwards he'll always voice out that he loves you but of course he shows it as well. He'll call you beautiful while pressing a kiss to your forehead.

M= Marriage (How do they propose to you? What’s their ideal wedding like? Where do you plan it?)

Gojou is a very spontaneous man, I can imagine him doing it during the most mundane and random moments. Such as after you're both walking home from a date or maybe it's late into the night while you're both cuddling.

Maybe moments where you're hurt or if he almost lost you.

"Marry me, (Y/N)..."

It's just a spur of the moment kind of thing, when he's the most vulnerable. When he realizes "ah, I want to spend the rest of my life with this person..."

Gojou is pretty flexible with the kind of wedding he wants. He doesn't really have a dream wedding.

The elders of his clan would definitely bug him for a Traditional one as it is customary.

However, if you want a Western style wedding instead he will definitely go for it.

Mostly likely, you both will have two weddings one traditional and western.

Money is different not an issue with this man. Say the word and you shall receive. It's definitely going to be extravagant.

Whether you want to or not he'll find a way to splurge his money.

If the elders are opposed to your marriage you'll both will just have a private wedding, inviting the people closest to you guys.

Not marrying you because someone said no is not an option for him.

N= Nicknames (What do they call you? Do they call you these in public as well? How often do they call you in nicknames?)

Gojou has a variety of nicknames for you!

Ranging from the typical baby, babe, sweetie, darling and honey.

Or something more sweet such as princess/prince, my love, my dearest.

And there's those really cringey ones such as sugarpie, cupcake, my strawberry cheesecake.

He will literally call you by any dessert name.

"Hey, my kikufuku!" Yup, that's you.

If you're shorter than him you can add shorty, short stuff or munchkin to the list.

When he uses them usually depends on the situation. If he's feeling really affectionate or needy he'll be using the really sweet nicknames.

Sometimes he'll even come up with the most ridiculous ones as much as it embarrasses you.

Usually he'll just call you using the common nicknames. He will only use your real name during serious situations.

He's not shy about proclaiming you as his chocolate cupcake. Not even in front of his students or colleagues.

"Are you referring to (L/N) sensei?" "Bingo!"

You've tried to beg him to stop but the man doesn't listen.

O= Open (How open are they with you? Are they willing to share their secrets and past with you? Do they trust you?)

Gojou despite being a man who loves to talk does not like talking about his private life or his past.

It's very personal information to him and he doesn't want the information to fall into the wrong hands.

If anyone asks about it he'll either ignore the question or answer it very vaguely.

You would have to be someone has spent years by his side to be to attain that level of trust with you.

There are some things in his past that isn't easy to talk about, even though it doesn't bother him now. If you ask he will tell you about it briefly.

If it's information not regarding his secrets or his past, he doesn't sharing those details. If you wanna about his mission or want to check his phone, he will let you. He has nothing to hide except the secret pictures he takes of you.

He in return trusts you as well, but he won't pry into things you don't want to talk about.

If you manage to gain his trust enough for him to reveal personal information about him, don't break it. If you do, you will never be able to gain it back.

P= PDA (Are they into PDA? Do they often do it? Their reaction if you hold their hands or kiss them in public.)

Gojou is into PDA but he doesn't flaunt it as often as you think. He won't be making out with you in the middle of the school hallway but he will press chaste kisses to you.

He's not afraid to hug you or hold your hand around the faculty or students.

He won't do something inappropriate in public he likes to keep that in private. Through sometimes he will because he likes seeing you embarrassed while you desperately ask him to stop. Trying not to gain the attention of the people around you.

He also likes seeing the reactions of other people when he does display affection towards you but mostly he does it to see your cute reactions.

If you initiate hand holding with him, he will definitely hold your hand back tightly. If you kiss him, he'll be surprised but then he's quick to tease you about it.

"Oya, is my cupcake getting bold～?"

If anyone looks at you two with disgust he will yell out "you got a problem?"

He's not shy to show the world he loves you.

Q= Quirk (Do they find your quirks adorable or odd? Do they tell you or not? Do they have a quirk of their own?)

Nothing escapes his keen eyesight. He'll notice and remember a lot of your quirks even the ones you're unconsciously doing.

He thinks its absolutely adorable, like how you furrow your eyebrows in concentration how you pout when you're deep in thought.

All these little quirks make you who you are and he adores them.

Gojou will tell you about them of course, even if you try to deny it. If you don't believe he'll try to take a picture to show you which ends up making you really embarrassed.

"I can't help it, I don't even know that I'm doing that..." you whisper with a blush on your face.

Gojou has a quirk of fiddling with his blindfold or his sunglasses if he's wearing them.

Definitely a fan of putting his hands in his jacket or hands while he stands or walks. He doesn't like the feeling of his hands being empty.

R= Reliable (Are they loyal? How loyal are they? Are they there for you when you need someone?)

Gojou is a very honest and down to earth kind of guy. Of course, loyalty is something he firmly commits to.

Cheating is something he won't resort to at all costs. No woman or man is tempting enough for him to be swayed.

We all know he is a good looking guy, he's bound to attract suitors anywhere but he'll turn them all down. He already has you, why would he need anyone else?

There are times where you might feel insecure or jealous but Gojou will always be there to assure you not to. He'll do his best to comfort you, until you're smiling again.

"You're the only one I need..."

During these times he'll even share his precious sweets with you. He'll feed you cake while hugging you from behind.

Have faith in him because whenever you need him, he'll make sure to be there.

S= Solace (How do they comfort you? Do they immediately notice you being sad?)

Gojou just has sense whenever you're feeling sad, even though you try your hardest to hide it.

He just sees through your facade. He won't ask if you're okay when he clearly knows you'll try to lie about it.

If you're trying to avoid him, he'll either pin you against the wall or pull you into his embrace.

He'll be silent as he takes off his blindfold to stare deep into your eyes, how could you lie when those eyes are looking straight at you.

He won't ask you about what's bothering you but he will always be there to comfort you.

Gojou would pull you into his lap on his expensive chair and cradle you like child as he gently caresses your hair.

Ligerning forehead kisses is also he does to comfort you.

Gojou would also bring his sweets stash and slowly feed you some while he hugs you from behind. If you want food, he'll be glad to cook up your favorite meal.

He knows a lot of cringy and cheesy jokes, in which ends up with him laughing at his own jokes. His laughter is contagious so wouldn't be able to hold back a smile after that.

T= Turn-off (What do they dislike in people? What is their turn-off?)

Gojou hates the old way of thinking he finds in elders especially the elders of his clan and the jujutsu society.

He doesn't like anything anything serious or boring. If you're too uptight, he'll find a way to break that.

Another thing he hates is when people do something behind his back or say something behind his back. If you have something to say, then say it straight it to him.

Routine is another thing he dislikes, he's very spontaneous and looks for the fun in things.

He dislikes vegetables and anything bitter. He's a lover of sweets afterall!

Prying too much into his personal life, as proud as he isーhe doesn't like going around talking much about his private life or his past.

U= Umbrageous (Do they easily get offended by what you said? How will they react when you get hurt by what they said?)

Now if you mean playful gets offended then the answer would be yes. If you're seriously trying to offend him, he won't. He's not the type to take things like that to heart.

Call him an idiot, a narcissist, he will playful hold his chest in pain and whine to you while he pouts.

He'll even tease you back if he feels like it.

"Sorry, did you say something～?"

Even though he doesn't take insults to heart, if you use his past against him, he will take offense to it. His past is something he doesn't want to bring up so if you or anyone brings it up. That changes things.

He tries to keep the optimism but he's only human with emotions so there will be times you could offend him.

If you managed to offend him, he'll be unusually quiet as he dwells on your words.

He won't resort to anger but that doesn't mean he won't at times. That's when he's firing insults back you, blinded by rage. He will regret it afterwards though.

V= Vision (What do they imagine their future? What is their dream? Do they want to spend it with you?)

If Gojou truly loves you, he'll definitely would want to spend the rest of his life with you by his side. Somewhere where he doesn't have to be on guard and would always welcome him with open arms.

Yet at the same time he is afraid of the dangers that come associated with him. If you're a civilian he'll try to distance himself away from you. He's afraid one day when he's not around, someone might come after you. His world is completely different from that of a normal person's afterall.

If you work in the same field as him. He'll definitely be more reluctant to push you away, because he knows you can handle yourself. It lessens his worries.

Still life as a shaman is still as dangerous, you're putting your lives at risk every time you go on a mission. The thought of losing you scares him to the very core.

Despite that he still loves you and if can't be with you he would like to associated with you someway maybe as acquaintances or friends.

He dreams of a world without cursed spirits, where he can live a peaceful life, settle down and start a family with you.

In a world crowded with darkness he dreams of a single ray of solace that is you.

Someone that will stay by his side no matter how difficult it will be.

W= Wacky (What is their reaction in you doing something crazy? Will they join you or stop you?)

Gojou Satoru is a man child, he does the most ridiculous of things like wearing a skirt of a highschool student.

If you're the type of person who's just as energetic and wild as him, it's going to be chaos.

You both will pull pranks on the students and faculty. Poor Ijichi being one of your primary targets.

If you're the type of person who's more on the serious side then he'll be shocked by your suggestion.

But of course he's willing to join in whatever plot you have.

Gojou already gives the higher ups a headache, if you're added to the mix it's going to end up being a massive headache.

He lost count of the amount of times he got scolded by Principal Yaga.

He can come up with the wildest ideas and sometimes you will have to become his break.

Principal Yaga specifically asked you to keep him in check after all.

X= Xtra (Random Headcannon about them)

Gojou Satoru has a driver's license. In fact he even owns several cars.

Of course, they're all the expensive ones because he thinks they look cool.

Does he use them? Not that often, when you literally have the ability to teleport or have Ijichi to drive you around.

As you expect he's a fast driver, you will literally be griping your seatbelt for dear life. It looks like he's gonna crash but he won't. He just likes to scare you.

Of course there's a stash of candy and extra pairs of sunglasses in the glovebox.

Gojou is surprisingly a great cook. You would think being raised with servants he wouldn't know how to cook but he does.

He studies the recipe very carefully and cooks. It's as if he has a natural talent for cooking.

At first, you were pretty skeptical of his cooking but once you had of bite of his dish. You could feel the literal flavors explode on your tongue.

When it's his turn for him to cook, expect him to be wearing a cute apron while blasting music from his speaker.

He'll be singing and dancing in the kitchen.

Hug him from behind while he cooks and he'll melt right then and there. Trying to hide a blush from you.

Y= Yearning (Do they long for you? Will they find themselves missing you while you’re away? If so, how will they cope with it?)

Even though you haven't seen each other for a day he terribly miss you. Your just gives him warm and when you're not there he feels cold.

He goes on missions very often and they can last days or even weeks depending on the case. He'll try to update you as much as he can on when he could come home.

Even when he's in the middle of fighting cursed spirits, he'll find his mind wondering towards you.

If he's away from you, you'll be getting calls and texts from him quite frequently. He'll make sure to always greet you good morning or good night and ask how you are.

He'll always ask if you've eaten or not and asks you to send a picture of your meal to prove it to him. He needs to know you're being well fed.

If you think he talks too much he texts just as much. He'll even take random selfies of himself or something interesting he wants you to see.

If you send him a selfie or video he'll save that so fast and save that to his folder. So he can look through them whenever he misses you.

If it's a long mission, he might pack one of your shirts which has your scent so he could take a whiff to calm himself or cuddle as he sleeps.

After a mission if he's not tired yet, he'll video call you every now and then.

He'll try to come back as fast as possible because he doesn't feel complete without your presence.

Z= Zzz (Do they fall asleep easily? Do they move around while sleeping? What sleeping position do they like best?)

If we are talking about the past Gojou, maybe around his youth then no. He had difficulty sleeping because sleeping meant he's vulnerable to attacks.

This is why relies mostly on sweets to stimulate his brain because there are days where he can't sleep at all. His powers drain a lot of energy to keep up.

Once he could run Infinity automatically, he doesn't have any trouble sleeping at all. In fact, he passes out instantly once his head hits the pillow.

The man works hard and goes on tons of missions so of course he's bound to be tired when he gets home.

Gojou Satoru is 190 cm tall so of course he has a large king sized bed at home. He likes having a lot of space but he tends to move around a lot unconsciously.

There have been times where he has fallen off the bed as well.

If you're sleeping with him and want to prevent him from taking all the bed space, you both cuddle that way his limbs are locked on you.

His likes to sleep laying on his back while you lay on your chest or embracing you from behind as you both sleep on your sides.

It's very rare from him to snore but that doesn't mean he doesn't and when he does, it's loud.

However sleeping with him has it's benefits, if you wake up before him you'll be graced by the most angelic view. As he breathes softy while his long white eye lashes remain closed.

If he does wake up you will also be graced by his morning voice which is divine.

[hughiecampbelle]

Having Twins With Tommy Would Include:

Tommy is so fucking scared to be a father

He's afraid he might turn into his own father

An absent, violent drunk who never gave a damn about any of his kids, who left them without a second thought, no matter how young

You assure him he's nothing like that man

That the fact that he's already worried about being a good father means he is in no way like his own

"You're a far better man, Thomas Shelby. Don't forget that."

When you do decide you want to expand your family, he's hesitant, but more than excited to find out the good news

He wants to tell the whole family as soon as he finds out

There's so much pride in those big blue eyes

He's had a lot of practice with kids by raising his younger siblings all those years, you already know he's gonna be a natural at fatherhood

Tommy gets pastel paint all over his nice suits painting the nursery in his spare time, dabbing it on your nose when you're not paying attention

He laughs at the little clothes while you two put them in the drawers

"Look at this sock! It's so tiny!"

He spends a lot of time in the nursery at night when he can't sleep

It's a place that brings him so much comfort

Sometimes he sits in the rocking chair and accidentally falls asleep

You wake him up in the morning, chuckling at him

He had no reason to believe he'd be less than a great father

Polly is sure she knows the gender of the baby, bragging about all the times she was right, but you questioned her this time

Something about this felt different

The both of you feel as ready and prepared as new parents can. . .

What you're not prepared for is two!

Tommy nearly faints

Twins? Did he hear that right?

Not only would there be one baby to care for, but two

No one was prepared for that kind of news

Even Polly was shocked

You only had one crib, one height chair, one set of everything

You only had one name picked out, too

When he holds the both of them though, arms completely full, there is a wave of calm among the worry

Two button noses, two sets of eyes, two new smiles

He promises the both of them he'd do anything to protect them

Bringing them home, though, that calm begins to fade

Your families are around a lot to help

One newborn is a lot of work, so two needs a whole village of help

You learn their schedules of feeding and napping and things start to get a little more organized, though there's laundry every day, a mess of bottles to wash each night, and absolutely no time to sleep

Tommy takes time off, getting business sent home so he can be there

When he does go back, John can't help but laugh when he catches his brother falling asleep at his desk

"Keeping you up all night?"

"I think they're nocturnal."

"Welcome to the club!"

They have their own little twin language

Sometimes you and Tommy would sit by the door, quietly, trying not to laugh too loud at your children's serious, jibberish conversations

"You think they're talking about us?"

"Hope not."

As they get older, and do things like sit up, crawl, stand, learn to talk, things get even more hectic

The two of you are constantly running around, trying to catch them

Your home is hard enough to baby proof with Tommy's cigarettes, guns, and blades, things he thought were out of reach until he finds the two of them tearing a box of cigarettes open among their toys

He makes sure they can't touch any of those things again

Little tricksters, they always get past baby gates

"I liked it better when they couldn't move."

"Me too."

Ones first words are for Tommy, the other for you

At least, that's what Tommy thinks

You said name over and over again for one to repeat just at the right moment for when Tommy walked through the door

He doesn't stop bragging about it for weeks

You visit him often at work

Two babies on your hip is a lot of work, so you're grateful for when they can hold your hands and walk by your side, even if they do waddle

Being around the Shelbys, they pick up on the language

You can't help but laugh, even if they shouldn't say it

You don't like to dress them up the same, or when people refer to them as "The Shelby Twins"

They have their own identities, you want them to know that

Most nights it's the four of you in bed, your two little toddlers taking up the most room, pushing you two to the side

"We should have gotten a bigger bed."

Tommy loves when they sit on his lap, his arms around them

They love pulling at his tie or taking his hat off his head

Around them, he wears one without razors, just in case

When it rains they play out in the puddles with Uncle Finn, who encourages them to splash in the mud as much as possible

Auntie Ada loves bringing over Karl, who absolutely adores them

He teaches them all kinds of games he's learned

Johns bundle of kids think they're fun, too

They're little enough for the older ones to dress them up or send them off as bait while they come up with schemes to get more sweets

Uncle Arthur spins them round and round until they're dizzy, making them laugh so hard they nearly cry

Polly just adores them

She takes them any chance she can get, which is great, because you and Tommy could use the break

When there is a lot of danger or an even greater target on his back, Tommy sends the three of you away for safety

He keeps you updated, but he can't let you be home knowing someone could hurt you or the kids

You tell him all about what they do when he can't be there to witness it

"Tommy, you should have seen it. It was so cute!"

He cares deeply about their education, teaching them things before they're even in school

Things about safety, about the business, as well as their alphabet and how to count to ten

He loves walking them to school and picking them up

"How was school?"

"Bad."

"Why's that?"

"I got in trouble. . . "

Both have that Shelby temper he prayed would skip a generation

Tommy teaches them about horses as well

When you two ride them, you each have one kid on your lap

They giggle when they pet the horses or feed them carrots and talk about racing one another when they're older

The Tommy in them comes out at full force

How could those cute little toddlers be so stubborn?

"They're definitely your kids."

"How could you tell?"

"They hate being told what to do."

Constantly having to break up fights

If it's not about a toy, it's a book, or a bug, or whatever they can get their hands on at this point

They get over it just as quickly as it started

"I want you to apologize to one another, now."

"I didn't think you knew what an apology was, Tommy."

"Very funny."

Even now that they're older you still feel unsure with twins

The more you think about the future, the more complicated it gets

Two kids in school, two growth spurts, two kids to help through broken hearts, and crushes, and life with the last name Shelby

Still, you think about adding a few more to the family. . . .

"More?"

"One or two. Haven't you ever thought about it?"

"Of course I have."

Tommy loved being a dad, it was by far his favorite title. He thought of having a family as big as his brothers more often than he'd like to admit

"What if we have another set of twins?"

"Thomas Shelby, what are the chances of that happening again?"

[loquaciousquark]

I hope you're doing well! I know you posted about a stressful situation last month, and I hope it's resolved itself. Sending good wishes you you and Hamlet!

Thank you so very much for checking in on me! I really do appreciate it. An update to that post under the cut.

Carol, who moved in with me on May 28, is still here. Right now, we have set a tentative move-out goal of the first or second week of August, but this is pending an apartment application that she hopes to finalize on Monday and a job situation that is a complete mess.

Basically, according to my limited understanding, Carol is licensed to teach in Florida. Alabama has a reciprocity clause with Florida, but it must be applied for. Carol has recently begun this process, but her teaching license(s?) is (are?) set to expire in December unless she passes certain exams. She’s already passed one for...general middle and high school teaching, I think, but failed a math exam. She has an art history exam Monday afternoon and expects to pass. I hope so, because she’s been doing nothing but watching Netflix and shopping for houses for the last few days in her new 2017 Jeep Cherokee.

I remain unspeakably grateful to my parents for teaching me financial literacy, because until I witnessed Carol’s decision-making, I had no idea how hard it was for some people to not spend money unwisely. 

As a reminder, Carol is dead broke. She has $153,000 in debt across student loans, medical bills, Czech and US taxes, and some personal loans she would like to repay to friends for helping her. She is unemployed and has no support from her family and has relied on couch surfing at friends’ and acquaintances’ homes since last summer for housing. Since moving in with me, she has been trying to find somewhere to live that would accept her with all her debt and her nonexistent US employment history for the last ten years. Based on what she’s said, I think she has about $9k in the bank--or did, until last week.

In short, she needs a car, a job, and a home, and as far as I can tell she doesn’t care which order they come in.

Two weeks ago, she was offered a position in a rural town about 30 minutes from where I live. It’s a small, very country town which desperately needs a special education teacher, something I think Carol really does have a passion for. However, because she hasn’t finished the reciprocity licensure application yet, they’re having a lot of roadblocks with her paperwork, compounded by the fact that when she left Prague last year, she left all her important documentation behind: things like her birth certificate, her social security card, and her letters of recommendation, which for some reason she did not have electronic backups of. The principal has been trying to get what she needs from Carol for two weeks. Carol is constantly saying that things are “in process” but has nothing to show for it.

As far as we can tell, the job is still hers, but the school year starts August 13th and she still hasn’t been approved by the Board of Education because the paperwork is still not finished on her end. She did not attempt to replace her birth certificate or social security card until they needed it for the application. (Her friend in Prague--and I am beginning to realize she uses the word “friend” for anyone she’s met longer than sixty seconds), who frantically packed up all her belongings when she realized she would not be able to go back to the city, cannot ship her belongings or go through them for the important paperwork until next summer, as she and her husband are currently vacationing in Rome for a year.

Carol decided last night she is also going to apply for some online Department of Defense position--I didn’t understand the details and don’t really want to know, except that it’s also teaching and some administration. We’ll see how it works out. She is growing increasingly annoyed at the principal’s requests for paperwork completion, which baffles me.

So, job: shrug? Maybe?

Car next, then, but this whole mess also goes back to the financial literacy thing. My parents have always been extremely frugal (pennywise, as my dad would say), and from childhood they made it very clear to us to not buy things you couldn’t afford. They’ve never had a car payment in my memory, and they paid off their house about ten years ago. This means they drove a lot of junkers for a very long time, and for a very long time we had very few vacations, but now they’re fully financially stable and debt-free and my mom has a car that she drove off the lot brand new that they paid cash in hand for. 

If I had been in Carol’s situation, I would have found a cheap, mostly reliable used car that probably wasn’t going to explode on me and drive that as long as I could while saving up for housing. I did in fact drive her to look at several used cars, most of which would have been even outside my expected budget (hers, as it happens, is larger even than that, because one of her overseas friends was willing to contribute $5000 to the cost of a vehicle). (I paid $6500 for my current car, a 2004, in college in 2012 with 70,000 miles on it at the time, and have driven it ever since.)

She rejected all of them because they did not have good “energy” and “feelings.” One she was willing to buy at $3700, but told the seller to go pay for his own inspection (once I explained to her what mechanical inspections were as a concept), so they ghosted her. She also is extremely afraid of head gasket failure--I don’t know why, since she knows nothing about cars--and has assumed all vehicles she has driven are on the verge of it, so after the first week she refused to even look at a vehicle without a warranty.

This means she exclusively limited herself to used dealership options, which I’m just going to come right out and say was monumentally stupid. I don’t know if any car dealers follow me, so I’m sorry if I am misperceiving this, but in my experience almost every dealer I’ve gone to has been aggressive, manipulative, and extremely predatory in their interest rates. I cannot think of a riskier course of action in abject debt than to try to cut a deal with a car dealer for the sake of a warranty I doubt will cover that much truly expensive failure in the long run anyway.

On Thursday, Carol bought a $20,000 2017 Jeep Cherokee from a dealership down the road. I don’t know what she put down. I do know she did not use her friend’s money (why not??) and I know her interest rate on the car loan is 4%, which she is extremely proud of and which horrifies me. She also “persuaded” them into a limited warranty that will cover the vehicle up to 100,000 miles (currently at 42k, and they ~only offer it for cars under 40,000 miles~). I can’t tell you how bad an idea I think all this is.

Thursday night, as she was regaling me with stories of her negotiating prowess, she also tells me she has decided to buy a house. She’s sick of renting, and somehow, someone somewhere managed to get her approved for up to $120,000 in a home loan. She already has $150k in debt, another $20k from the car, and now wants to buy a house. She was delighted that she could make the minimum 7% down payment, even though it would wipe out every cent she has left and leave her less than $500 to her name for moving expenses, utilities, food, title registration, etc. afterwards.

She doesn’t even have a secure job yet.

However, this plan seems to have fallen through. She went out with a realtor several times this weekend and came home the last time in great, heaving sobs, because she can’t find the 3bed 2bath she wanted in her price range. (For reference, most homes in this area go between 200k - 250k right now for 2-3bed 2ba, and the closer you get to the city--I have about a 20 minute commute--the higher it gets. My next door neighbor sold her 3bed 2.5ba for >300k three months ago, and Carol knew this.) She was absolutely devastated that the only things in her range were “tiny little ugly flipped houses” and “the ghetto.” The realtor basically said she wasn’t going to waste any more of her time. Carol repeatedly told me how grateful I should be that I got in at the price point I did a few years back, because no “normal people” could ever afford to break into the market again.

I tried to tell her that it was because I lived in with a roommate in very cheap housing and then a cell of a 1bed 1ba apartment for eight years while I saved money, but if nothing else, I’ve learned I’m not allowed to compare our situations or histories or offer advice of any kind except “go ahead and buy what you want,” because that only makes her cry harder. In the end, she has decided to give up on the house for now and settle for the absolute last thing in the world she wanted, an apartment with a lease.

To be honest, until she has a signed contract in hand, I half-expect this lease to fall through as well. I have tried to offer what I think is sensible advice and been ignored or rebuffed. I have tried to offer a sympathetic ear and ended up with her sobbing uncontrollably on me--heaving, body-wracking sobs--over and over again with me trapped in my own home, providing endless emotional support for a girl I don’t even like. I have tried to encourage her to do the things she wants to do, since she’s going to do them anyway, and when she gets “negative energy” after the purchases (buyer’s remorse, I think, that one little inkling of sense saying maybe it wasn’t a great idea to buy a $20,000 car or an $1100 brand new iPhone without a job), she blames it on the exact thing I said I thought might be good and makes me feel like I have now directly contributed to a negative outcome after poor decision-making.

For the record, when she says these things to me she is not saying, and has never said, them directly at me. She has never blamed me in any way for a negative outcome. She is not consciously trying to manipulate me or abuse me or take advantage of my help. She has never once asked me for money or job connections or for me to use any of my stability to unfairly or unethically get her something she needs. She is just completely absorbed in her own (rightfully absorbing) mess of a situation, and I think just completely unaware of how much of an emotional black hole she has become. There are no problems except her problems. There are no needs except her needs, and everyone around her has to understand how hard she has it at all times. 

So, we’ll see. I am praying that the apartment works out next week. The owner seems to want to work with her, which is a hopeful sign. Good thoughts would be appreciated.

--

Aside from all of this, work has gotten extremely complicated. I’m not going to go into all of it now, but one of my jobs is to create an extremely detailed schedule for students in clinic. This is used to schedule patients in each service--if we have this many students, we can have this many patient slots per half-day, etc. Last week, two students were out unexpectedly, one who broke her arm the day before she was supposed to begin, and one who had a terrible anxiety attack and thought the symptoms were actually COVID. That student was tested and cleared negative, but Student Health requires a two-week quarantine anyway, so she was not allowed to return.

This meant that we now had multiple patients per day with no one to see them. We tried to reschedule as many as we could, but we still ended up with multiple overbooks. This is extremely stressful for me as both a provider, an instructor, and a human being who hates having other people wait on her in a professional capacity. We got through the week, but not without several painful bumps, and it’s looking like there will be more soon.

I also woke up to an email this morning that one of my favorite students (yes, I have favorites, I’m sorry), had a completely unexpected death in the immediate family and had to rush home. This is a very, very sweet, very smart girl who has worked unbelievably hard over the past year to do well in this program and in my courses, and I am just devastated for her. One of her friends is willing to cover her clinic, so the impact will be minimal on that side, but to have this happen during this country’s hellhole handling of this pandemic...I can’t even imagine it.

All of this isn’t even touching COVID. The President’s side has won in that sense--I don’t even register the numbers anymore--but as of last week our dean sent out messaging that implied that with our state’s failure to contain the spread, new discussions were going to be happening soon regarding our August start. We already had committed to full hybrid scheduling: all lectures online, in-person labs only where absolutely necessary to continue advancement in the program, and those labs limited to two per room with full PPE, but if they decide even that can’t happen, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. I cannot make competent doctors over Zoom. I can’t. At some point they have to touch other people and look at other people’s eyes. They have to be able to check real, in-person blood pressure. They have to look at genuine eye movements and ocular surfaces in person and I cannot and will not let them enter clinic until they have the practice and the time and the practicals behind them. I fucking refuse to endanger the public for sixty years because someone in an office somewhere decided a timetable is more important than a patient keeping their ability to see, and I’m ready to fight administration on this if they try to push it.

But if I win the fight, what next? They just...don’t enter clinic next year. They don’t enter my program. I don’t know what they do in the meantime, as this lab meets four mornings a week and the lecture twice. The course is delayed until next year or whenever we have the virus under control again, and suddenly my fall semester sure looks like I’ll be being paid to stay at home and count carpet fibers. I don’t think they’ll fire me--no one else wants to teach my course anyway--but if I win this fight I might put myself right into furlough in the process.

I could be borrowing trouble, I know. They could come back and say that after review, our system and safety protocols (all extremely conservative) are indeed safe enough and we can proceed as we want. They could say that our limited in-person option for lectures (we have several gigantic lecture halls that could easily socially distance) is the only thing that needs to go. They could say that we just need to have smaller lab groups--hellish on me, but doable.

But it’s one more element of stress in my life that I just can’t handle worrying about right now, which is why I’ve been bouncing back and forth between random fics and oneshots (that mermaid one was feverishly written on a single evening Carol spent at her mom’s house) and pouring an ungodly amount of hours into Animal Crossing. At least there I have some control over what happens next.

Sorry, guys. I know this is not the happy update I was hoping for. I’ll try to check in again next month and we’ll see where things end up.

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [WATTPAD]

Sorry about the long delay in updates. My life's been a bit up and down of late; good things and bad. Hopefully things will settle soon. Either way, I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

CHAPTER NINE

This was definitely a new one on Rise Kujikawa. She felt like the world had turned upside down — again — and she was supposed to navigate her way without a map or a compass. Where to begin?

"What… are you- oh come on, liking girls doesn't make you a boy. Has that really been worrying you all this time?"

Ai blinked across at her for a few seconds. "What? Oh, yes, but… Rise-chan, I'm trying to tell you something pretty major. Aren't you paying attention?"

"Come on, you're not a boy! Regardless of why you think you are, so like, you can cut that out right now. Okay?" She reached over to take up her hand and squeeze it firmly between both of her own, trying to ignore the way Ai whimpered. "We're friends. If you never want to kiss me again, that's okay, but just wanting to kiss me a couple times? Does not mean you're a boy, or messed up, or me and you have to move to Ni-Chome, or anything. It's all good."

Ebihara remained quiet for a second, simply holding her friend's hand. Looking more than a little lost. "Well, Ni-Chome is right around the corner from here… and that's where… people like us go. Right?"

"Hey! There's no 'people like us', we're just people!"

"Ugh, I know," she burst out in irritation at herself, suddenly standing up and pacing back and forth in front of Rise. "I know! It's so stupid that I get in my own head about this, but I can't just enjoy anything. Why am I like this? Do I have no chill?!"

"Guess not." When Ai stopped to glare at her, she rolled her eyes. "Well, you really don't! I'm not saying it's bad or you're bad, but you do need to learn how to relax."

But she kept pacing. Rise had just about given up and assumed that was the end of the discussion, and that she should go back to trying to find another song to sing — when Ai suddenly knelt down in front of her, hands gripping the sofa on either side of the idol's hips.

"Wha- hey, what are you doing?!"

"Getting your attention, girl. I need you to really hear me."

"God, I hear you just fine! We just got done agreeing you don't need to make a big deal out of every-"

"My birth name was Aihiko," she pushed ahead stubbornly, such a fierce determination in her eyes that Rise had to fight down the instinct to cower. Even drunk, she could be a real force of nature. "And I always knew that didn't fit me. It just took me until really late in elementary school before I figured out why.

"What I told you and the others before was true. I was always bullied, always called 'Piggy-hara' because I was fat. Because I didn't fit in, anywhere. No matter how many times I looked at the sports clubs, at the manly men I was supposed to look up to, my parents told me I would become someday… I didn't want to. I wanted to be Taeko Ohnuki, or Utada — I wanted to be Sailor Moon. All the other boys would fight over being Red Hawk when we played Featherman; I was too happy to be Pink Argus, when nobody else would want to touch that character unless we were playing with another girl. My whole life, I knew… I just didn't have a word for it. Not until… Ikko."

When she didn't continue for a moment, Rise cleared her throat to prompt quietly, "Ikko?"

"The talk show host. Trans and fabulous. I could see right there on my television screen, in front of my crying eyes thanks to another day of bullying and shame, a woman who was born like me — living her truth, live and in colour in front of the whole country. And sure, those talk shows are a little corny, but to me, as a little boy who thought he was just going to be broken for the rest of his life? They looked like hope."

"Oh… Ikko, yeah. Think I've seen her on Shin Domoto Kyoudai, and um, Onee MANS. Yeah." Rise was struggling to keep up mentally. She felt like any second now, the whole thing was going to come crashing down around her ears…

"Believe me, I know this is a lot to take in," she said with a sigh, brow creasing in concern for her friend. Which Rise thought was encouraging. "But once I realized who and what I was, and we were now suddenly filthy fucking rich, I asked my parents to help me be who I always was. Ironic that my mother was against it and my father was only too happy to help, but I mean, life is weird. And I have never really looked back… until now. With you."

"With me? Wait, wait… I feel like I'm losing my mind a little bit here. Do I have this right? You were born as a boy — which there's no way I can believe, just look at you! But because of some talk show host, and a bunch of mean kids who were jerks to you, you decided you didn't want to be a boy anymore?"

Ai grimaced. "That is… an oversimplification, but essentially, yes."

"And now you think you made the wrong choice because…" A hard swallow. "Me. Because you like me." Ai gave a small nod. "Whoa."

"You don't believe me." Her head fell forward until it was resting on Rise's shoulder. Now that they were so close, she could feel how badly her friend was trembling. "I should have known. Stupid. Why do I always think I know better, and things will go differently? Do I have brain damage? Maybe that's it, maybe it's brain damage and I need to be admitted to some kind of facility with padded walls and electroshock."

"Shut up already, wow…" Her hand came up to gently caress over Ai's hair. "Listen... It's not that I want to be skeptical. I can tell you aren't just screwing around, but come on, how do you expect me to believe any of this? You are gorgeous! And Ikko, she's also really pretty but I can tell she was born a boy. You? No way. It's just too crazy to be possible — and if you only knew some of the things I've seen, you would know I don't say that for no reason!"

Ai nodded glumly. Defeated. That was really the only word for it, and Rise felt awful, but she also couldn't flick a switch and suddenly not have that healthy dose of skepticism. Who would believe a story like this right out of the gate with absolutely zero proof right in front of their eyes?

"Sorry," Rise finally whispered in a small voice.

"Why? Nothing to be sorry about. In fact, I know you won't get it, but you really helped me today."

"Huh? How did I do that? By not believing you?!"

"Exactly." Standing up again, she brushed off the front of her long skirt studiously. "If it's so inconceivable to you that I could have been a boy in a past life, then I guess that means I'm not crazy for pursuing my dream — living life as who I am inside. So I guess… thank you."

That sinking feeling swirling around in Rise's stomach was getting stronger. Maybe Ai wasn't kidding. But that was insane! Sure, Naoto had been able to hide her gender for a little while, but it wasn't as easy going in the other direction. If Ai were a boy in disguise, she would be doing things to hide certain aspects of her anatomy. Such as…

Such as a frilly lace collar around her neck. At all times.

"Is… what's… under here…?"

Her fingers barely came in contact with the collar when Ebihara took a step backwards — and literally tripped over the coffee table, sprawling on her back on the carpet with a ghastly yelp. Rise hurried around to crouch over her.

"I'm sorry! God, I'm really sorry, are you all right?!"

"Y-yeah," she groaned, even though she was holding her head, which indicated that no, she probably wasn't.

"I just wanted to ask about that collar," Rise said while helping her sit up. "But I didn't mean to scare you, I probably should have asked before I reached for it."

"Yeah, you should have. But it's no big deal." The phone buzzed again. "Ugh. It's getting late, we probably shouldn't ask for more time. This way we can maybe slip back in before final period and avoid catching hell."

"Hah! No way can we make it back in time, I really don't think so. But keep dreaming."

"Always," Ai offered with a slight smirk.

                                      ~ o ~

But as her friend answered the phone and she started gathering up their things, Rise's brain was swirling with far too many thoughts. They followed her out of the karaoke establishment and all the way back to the train platform, into the car itself. At least it wasn't as crowded as it would be if they caught a later train, even though they still had a good hour and a half left in their trip. Her poor young mind was plagued by a thousand questions, anxieties, and just random thoughts that were so unwelcome but wouldn't seem to go away for anything.

Could all that craziness actually be true? No. It was so impossible and ludicrous. Yet Ai had said every word with conviction, and no trace of uncertainty. Either this was one of the most convincing scams of all time, or…

Could she really be a boy?

Just glancing over at the flawlessly beautiful profile of Ai Ebihara was seemingly enough to put that possibility to death. Impossible. Even though Rise knew that there were women out there who had been born different, and she very vaguely understood the concept, she didn't know any of them personally. Any she had seen in popular media were various degrees of feminine and pretty, but still obviously not born the way she was; there were readily apparent differences. None of which she observed when looking at her new best friend. How was she supposed to believe such a wild story?

But she couldn't completely let go of how earnestly Ai had looked at her when confessing about her alleged condition. If she really were full of shit, she probably would have never tried to sell it so hard; what did she have to gain by it? Anything? Not as far as she could tell, no matter how she tried to look at it. There was no impetus for her to make up such a wild tale.

So then… crazy as it was, if she had nothing to gain by lying…

'No way, though!' she screamed internally, clamping her eyes shut for a moment as the train bumped along toward Yasoinaba. 'She's so perfect, she's prettier than me. Why is she doing this to me? Why lie? I don't know what to think anymore!'

Her thoughts were interrupted by a hand slipping into her own. Rise peeled open her eyes to see her friend, this beautiful woman who she was suspecting of horrible lies, smiling gently over at her with a concerned expression. Her heart melted. It didn't clear up any confusion at all, but she couldn't pretend this girl was being cruel to her for no reason. Not when she looked at her like that.

"You okay?"

"Y-yeah! Great! Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because I'm a horrible bitch for dropping a bombshell on you," Ai supplied quietly. "You should be pissed."

"Nope. I mean… okay, I do have a question." When there was no reply, Rise continued, "Why didn't you just show me?"

"Show you what?

"You know…"

Ai blinked at her friend's reddening features for a couple of seconds until she got it, and her lip curled. "Oh, what the fuck? You want me to just flash you?!"

"NO!" A few people turned to look at the two of them, and she double-checked that her hat was hiding her trademark hair again. "Not here! And I didn't say I wanted you to, I'm just, y'know… wouldn't that have been the easiest way? To prove what you were telling me?"

"Yeah, I guess so, but that seems really gross. Besides…"

When she didn't finish her thought, Rise nudged her with her elbow. "Hey, c'mon, don't chicken out now. We literally just made out so I don't think there's any reason to be shy anymore."

"I mean, okay, but it's not about feeling shy. I was going to say I had hoped you would believe me."

Damn. That really cut her to the core. But she couldn't even get upset about it, because as Ai said, she hadn't been holding back because she was shy. Obviously, she wasn't sure it was kind of her to issue a pseudo accusation like that. Her own fault for digging.

"Y-yeah. I can see why you would think that, but I mean, I've just never thought about anything like this before. It doesn't have anything to do with you! Yukiko or Chie could tell me the same exact thing and I would be just as skeptical. Does… I mean, do you hate me?"

"No," Ai whispered with quiet urgency, gripping her hand tighter. And Rise gripped back; she needed the comfort, and wanted her bestie to know that none of this meant she was going anywhere.

"You're sure?"

"Really, really sure. I'm sad you didn't believe me but I can't deny you have a point; as great as it is to know I look good enough to pass even when I'm telling you about it point-blank — seriously it's a huge relief, you will never know — I guess this is the one downside."

Rise tipped to the side until her head was resting on Ai's shoulder. She still felt dizzy. This was a nightmare and a dream, and she just wanted to go back to yesterday. Before she had been told impossible things that had to be true, because it was actually stranger that they be lies. It was like some kind of…

Magic.

"I'm being stupid," she finally breathed aloud as the revelation hit her like a bolt out of the blue. How could she have been looking at this so backwards?!

"What?"

"Nothing," she whispered. "Just… I've seen some pretty crazy stuff in my life. You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Ai definitely wouldn't believe her. "And I'm sitting here, thinking it's too weird that you might have been born a boy? That's so dumb!"

Clearly taking that in a slightly different manner, her friend chuckled and said, "There you go. I mean, you were in the entertainment industry."

"It's not like it is in the west, Ebi-chan. Like… a little, but when I toured the U.S.? Lots of people like that, all the makeup artists, and… you know, that Lady Gaga?" Ai shook her head. "She's really big over there, I have one of her albums somewhere."

"Bring it over, then. I mean, if she's queer, I want to hear her."

"Well, I don't know she is, but she has this whole… you know, dressing like a drag queen, big feathers and meat dresses! Crazy stuff!" They both laughed together, relaxing into the closeness. Like it should be.

"Either way, bring it," Ai said, interrupting her weird stomach-upside-down moment of realising what she had just been thinking. "I mean, don't expect me to choose her over Mariya, but…"

Rise giggled and whispered, "Or me. Because you're not a fan of my trash music."

"HEY! Shut the fuck up, I never said- UGH, you are a pain in the ASS." An airy sigh as she kissed the top of Rise's head. "You're lucky you're so cute."

Full blush. Rise was glad for her sunglasses and hat or she would have died of embarrassment. Biting her lip, she reached up to pull Ai closer, almost snuggling into her as best she could on the uncomfortable train seats. All she wanted was for the world to fall away, leaving them to revel in the escape from their reality. Their escape into each other.

"I'm scared."

"Me too."

"Really?" Rise whispered. "I'm… I don't even know… what to think. Are we lesbians? Or, because you were a boy, is it just…"

"Honestly? I don't know, either. That's why I was freaking out earlier. But now, I…" She cleared her throat and said, almost fearfully, "I think 'lesbian' could be the right word. Though I did really like Yu… ugh, I'm a lost cause."

"No," she snapped at her, looking up into her eyes. "Hey. You're the number one hottie of Yasogami High. Everybody says so."

"They say I'm a bitch, too."

"So? You've earned being a little bit of a bitch for a while. But I do think it's time to put the bitchy-pants away and start being Ai Ebihara again. Or, um…" Then she laughed in embarrassment.

"What?" she asked, brow furrowed in preemptive fear.

"I forgot already. Your real name; you told me, I just… you're Ebi-chan, I can't remember it."

"Oh. Well, it doesn't matter, because that's not really me anymore. Like you with 'Risette'; you cringe every time anyone says it. Even just now."

"Huh?! No, I didn't!"

"You so did, Rise-cheese."

The pop star puffed out her cheeks angrily as she glared up at her best friend. Then she pouted extra hard. "You can't make fun of me. It's mean."

"Thought you said I earned the right to be a bitch," Ai teased with a half-smirk.

"Not to ME! And I also said you can stop now! Hmph." Then she turned away from her, folding her arms over her chest as she glared away into the compartment.

"Oh wow, dramatic." But when Rise didn't turn back after a minute, she grabbed her upper arm and shook it slightly. "Come on… you can't really be this mad." More silence. A little desperation began to enter Ai's voice. "Rise… wait, wait, you're pissed off because I called you 'cheese'?!"

"I'm not cheese." But she did peek over her shoulder, and saw Ai looking legitimately conflicted. So she laughed awkwardly and turned back around, raising a hand to smooth over her hair. "Sorry… hey, I'm sorry. I was just messing around."

Ai dipped her head, expression just as conflicted as before. "This… is hard. Wow. I knew it was dumb, and you were being dumb, and I wanted to give you more shit, but my heart just started hurting, and…"

That was quite a wealth of feelings. Rise felt a little worried; would Ai really be able to handle what they were getting themselves into? Would either of them? Unable to hold back anymore, she threw her arms around her and pulled her in for the tightest hug she could manage.

"Ebi-chan… we'll be fine. Don't be so down, don't… don't lose track of what's good between us. How we fit together."

"Yeah?" she asked shakily. "You mean, how we have nothing in common, and didn't know each other before the past few weeks, a-and… and why would you even like me?"

"We have a lot in common. We like singing, and daifuku, and Korean dramas. And we both know what it's like for people not to be able to see you for who you really are; to make a lot of assumptions about you based on your appearance." Her brow furrowed, even while she was speaking. "Oh… and I guess that was even worse for you when you were a kid, huh? If you were a boy… and you felt like a girl inside… is… I mean, did I say that right? Do I know what I'm talking about?"

The softest chuckle floated out of Ai's lips as she pushed her face against Rise's neck. The nose and lips felt warm, and soft, and a little moist where she was speaking against her skin… creating goosebumps in the wake of the breath. "You're saying everything right. You always do. Probably an idol superpower."

"Maybe," she admitted with a light laugh, some of her anxiety beginning to melt away. "But I promise I'll only use it for good. I'll do my best!"

"God, you can't even turn it off. So gross!"

"You don't have to call me 'gross'! That's not nice!"

"Hey, I'm totally nice. What would you do without me being so 'nice' you want to punch a baby?"

When Rise pulled back, the most horrified expression on her face at that last bit of imagery, Ai burst out laughing so hard that she had to double over, arms wrapped around her middle. The mirth was catching; Rise giggled until she snorted like a pig, then was covering her face with both hands in shame while her supposed best friend guffawed openly at her. And she wouldn't have had it any other way, mortifying as it was. At least it meant the worst was over.

Wasn't it?

                                      ��To Be Continued…

[takamakisu]

『♥🖤Akira X Ann: Why I Support It.🖤♥』

In honor of the upcoming ShuAnn week, I have decided to contribute by writing a long post about why I love these dorks so much. I haven't seen a meta for them yet, so I figured I'd try my hand at it. (Which will be updated and expanded as I find more content) Without further ado, let us begin! Tagging the wonderful @shuann-week for this one.

1. The first encounter.

In media, the first interaction that two characters have with one another, regardless of relationship; lays the groundwork for said relationship and therefore is absolutely vital. When Akira first meets Ann, he's casually texting away on his phone and not really paying attention to much, but when she walks by he looks up. Already his curiosity is piqued, as is the player's; and then when she removes her hood, even then we don't get to see her face. But we DO see Akira's reaction, and he seems absolutely dumbstruck.

This is when things get interesting. Ann takes a few moments and sort of surveys her surroundings, and then she senses Akira's eyes and turns to him. And he doesn't look away, or get flustered; Akira keeps looking at her with that flabbergasted expression. He doesn't even blink. He is so taken aback by her he can't even greet her, and Ann just smiles at him and looks away- but even then, he doesn't break his gaze, and he never does until she actually leaves: Ann leaves him absolutely spellbound. And the music that plays during this encounter is exclusive to this encounter and this encounter alone. It never plays before this scene, nor does it ever play again after. There are heavy romantic undertones in this encounter, from the body language to the background music, and only Ann receives this treatment. It screams "attraction at first sight", and now with the groundwork laid, the relationship can begin to blossom.

 This is very important. Even before we get to see Ann's face, we already know from Akira's viewpoint that she must be pretty, at least in his eyes. And when we finally do get to see her face, she is indeed beautiful.

2. Her closeness to him.

First off, she's with you from essentially the beginning of the game, so you get a lot of time to get to know her and become closer to her. Ann is the third member to join your party and the first female member and therefore the first available romance option as well! (That's pretty big.) She's also your classmate, so you get to see her literally every day and there's a sense of familiarity that is built on from the beginning. 

Ann was the first to see Akira for who he truly was, and she looked past the rumors of him and got to know him for herself. Because she understands being an outsider and being mistreated, there's a level of understanding Ann has with you that the other girls simply do not. That's not to say they're bad, but Ann just connects better with the protagonist on that level. Let it also be remembered that before she met Akira, and by association the rest of the Phantom Thieves; Ann didn't have any friends, besides Shiho. Due to being a foreigner (and a very pretty one, at that) and the rumors surrounding her with Kamoshida, no one talks to her. While having a two-parent household, they are rarely home; and so Ann's lonely as well as bullied. Akira saving her from Kamoshida and then giving his genuine friendship then allows her to open up and be vulnerable to other people and that's very healthy. 

Another interesting interaction is during the Kamoshida arc, Makoto will ask you in essence what's the relationship between you and Ann, if there's something between you. If you say "there's nothing", her reply is "Didn't seem that way yesterday" and if you tell her you're classmates she'll say "But do friends get that close?"

3. How she falls for him.

For these reasons, I support these two. Lemme know in the comments what won you over to this pairing and any other moments that get your heart warm and fuzzy! 

In addition, Ann gets an on-screen kiss with the protagonist; a luxury only two other Persona girls have received (from 3-5, Maki kisses Naoya in P1): Margaret and Marie from Persona 4. The fact that Ann gets an explicit kiss (and possibly an implicit one as well because in Rank 9 her reaction to Joker hugging her hints he MIGHT have kissed her too) screams that while she's not 'canon' (nobody is) it sure does seem Atlus is sneakily pushing her towards Joker. They even match costumes in the dancing games! Oh yes, and Ann doesn't go home on Valentine's Day + Sojiro literally just "ayyyy" when she walks in- XD

Her Confidant has the protagonist and Ann getting closer as friends and also helping Shiho recover and you get to be a part of a few of Ann's interpersonal relationships. Shiho, as stated before, was Ann's closest and only friend before she met the player; and so earning her trust and helping her heal is significant. Suzui also hints to the player Ann seems to be attracted to them, talking about how her best friend talks highly of you and then the blonde gets flustered.

Her confession shot me through the heart. With Ann you don't have to increase your Knowledge or your Guts; just Kindness. To her, it doesn't matter if you get the best grades in the class or how brave you are, she just wants a friend who'll be there for her when she needs them, and that's what Ann falls for in the protagonist: his genuineness and his willingness to stick by her side. She falls in love with you for who you are and it feels the most natural and realistic. Something that's also very interesting about Ann's rank 9 event in Japanese is instead of saying “I guess we’re more than friends now...” she actually says, “I just realized it,” referring to her feelings for him (when she said “I love you”) in the original dialogue. And this is so so important. This hints at a love that developed slowly over a friendship and Ann wasn't even really aware it was there at first, until the only friend she'd had moved away and she felt alone and abandoned again. Akira being her pillar in that moment was the paradigm shift from platonic feelings to romantic ones and that is absolutely beautiful. But she ALREADY loved him, did you catch it? She just realized and became aware of it in that situation. Ann's been in love with the protagonist for who knows how long before she even confesses. And at the end of her confidant she calls you her light.. that just speaks volumes to me. The protagonist basically saved her, and because of that she wants to become stronger and encourage other people as well. It's beautiful. 

5. Other characters reactions to them.

There's a specific scene where the protagonist is in the bathhouse with Ryuji and Yusuke, and Ryuji will ask you what you think of Ann. If you admit you think she's pretty, he gets extremely excited ("Ooh, you straight up said it!")

Another very interesting thing that's different in the original language is when Akira gets home from interrogation. In English, Ann just chirps "Hey there!" No big deal, right? But in Japanese, she says, “okaeri”, which means “welcome home”. This greeting is said amongst family or couples in Japan, hinting a deeper level of closeness than the translation. 

(It's also something of note that when Ann got locked out of her room in Hawaii she went to Akira's room first. )

Additionally, after the school festival; Ann will talk to you about how she thinks about your future together! And if you tell her in another instance that you'd like to get married, she gets extremely excited whereas some of the other romance options become all flustered and blushy; a cute and interesting contrast.

A Mementos conversation also has Ann absentmindedly talking about how coffee goes well with sweets, to which Ryuji immediately replies 'Joker always smells like coffee, doesn't he?'

Now, I may be looking too deeply into this, but this could possibly be Ryuji "hint hint-ing" he thinks Akira and Ann are a good pair for each other. Ryuji also flat out refuses to date Ann during a scene in the gym when she offers to let him take her out. I don't know about you, but if I had a crush on somebody and they offered to let me go out with them, I don't think I'd turn it down as quickly and explicitly as Ryuji did (He tells her 'hell no, quit acting like you're some sexy anime character'). Personally I think Ryuji supports Ann with Akira and so he tries to gently nudge her over like "Okay, this guy? He's a good fit for you." Sakamoto's a great friend for Ann but I personally believe he's better as just that: a friend. 

4.  Their personalities blend well.

Ann's bubbly personality contrasts wonderfully with the protagonist's more introverted, reserved side. They're sort of like Robin and Starfire, just to less extremes. Ann is very pleasant and tender and she's got a big heart and it shows; consistently. She's a great friend to Ryuji and Shiho and big sister to Futaba, while at the same time tolerating nonsense from absolutely no one, regardless of status. I now want to cast attention to Meyer-Brigg's personality types. These are headcanons, but after analyzing Akira and Ann's characters Joker seems to be an ISTJ, while Panther is an ENFP. These are abbreviations for Introversion, Sensing, Thinking, Judging (ISTJ) and Extroversion, Intuition, Feeling, Percieving (ENFP) respectfully. Ann, at her core; is the heart of the Phantom Thieves honestly. She is very sensitive to others' emotions and feelings, and very emotionally intelligent. Being an extrovert, Ann also needs interaction and validation from other people: it energizes her and fufills her. And, in return she's a caregiver; Ann wants to support others and help them become stronger. She's a wonderful sister figure and just a comforter in general, and very amiable and chirpy. Contrast that with Akira, who makes decisions based on facts and logic rather than feelings and intuition (although in the Metaverse he seems to throw caution to the wind, quite frankly) and analyzes situations from a logical rather than emotional angle; (and there are exceptions to this like helping the woman Shido was assaulting and chasing Ann down to talk to her) and they seem on completely opposite ends of the spectrum. However, their differing personalities balance one another. While Akira keeps Ann grounded logically, she keeps him grounded emotionally and the bounce off is extremely healthy. 

In Yusuke's Confidant, saying Ann is the definition of beauty nets the most points. 

Atlus seems to like putting these two together as well, from giving them matching songs and outfits in the dancing games to putting them together in advertisements. It's pretty cute and though it's subtle, it's a nice little nod. 

[gumx395]

You keep claiming Ross knowing this information is some big bad thing, but we literally see with our own eyes that it isn't. Nothing happens to Clint. He gets an easier sentence BECAUSE of the knowledge of his family. Clint is not the Hulk. He's not some great asset Ross would care to exploit, and Tony knew that. He could only get away with hacking the signal once before it became obvious what he was doing. He chose to use it to fix a mistake (which he openly admitted he made).

You want me to list the ways that Tony mentors Peter? Fun!

He gives him an updated, safer costume

Makes sure that the safety is on the suit until the kid is ready

Gives him a handler

Listens to all of Peter's messages

Encourages him to work his way up to the big leagues

Saves his life

Makes sure to give him encouragement when he did well

Uses the info Peter gives him to try and fix the problem that has Peter worried

Sees that Peter is becoming consumed by the costume and tech, and takes it from him

Sees the choices Peter makes as mature and offers him a newer suit and the reward he's always wanted

Allows Peter to make the best choice for himself, despite the stressful and embarrassing situation it causes

I actually never said Tony made the glasses FOR Peter. I said he expected to entrust him with them at a later point (obviously, later than intended). Not sure where you're getting "Tony was working on Project Insight" honestly. And yeah, people use technology for different reasons. That's literally been a truth for all of humanity. In the wrong hands, a tool made for kiing invading aliens will probably be used to kill innocent humans. It is not a dead Tony Stark's fault it ended up in the wrong hands.

Tony had been working with the idea of Ultron for a while, but he AND Bruce implemented it. Again, you like to blame Tony for other people's choices, but Bruce is a big boy, he made that decision on his own. And in what way was Tony the least affected? She toyed with a man's already existing mental illness.

Speaking of which, yeah, as a fellow trauma survivor, I'm gonna keel bringing up Tony's PTSD. It took me 10 years to seek help. I STILL downplay what happened to me, and how it's affected me and my choices. So Tony not seeking help isn't some great fault that you're trying to make it out to be. And trust me, there are plenty worse responses to trauma then "trying to protect everyone and everything at the same time."

I absolutely did watch the movie, including the scene where Tony says that yeah, he's not entirely sure if going back or going to Thanos is the right choice, but one at least gives us the element of surprise, and (like you said) we don't even know who's alive and how many allies we have on earth, so maybe let's try going forward. And they don't go forward until Dr. Strange agrees (but apparently to you Tony is the only one with any autonomy in these movies, so I'm sure you'll disregard that as well).

Dr. Strange literally saw that the ONLY way that they win is if Tony makes the choices he makes. Like, that's literally canon.

And it's worth noting, you say "nothing could have been done after that" but, despite the memeification of it, it does seem canon that lives could have been saved if Thor had "gone for the head" (not blaming Thor, because unlike you, I don't put the entirety of the universe on the shoulders of one character).

Tony Stark started off as the kind of person I hate most in the world. He starts off exactly as you're describing. Apathetic. Petty. Refuses to take responsibility.

And then he's not.

He goes through trauma, and instead of retreating to his apathetic bubble, he works the rest of his life to undo the harm he's caused. Sometimes he succeeds, sometimes he doesn't. But he tries. He doesn't pretend to be the pinnacle of goodness like Steve does. He knows he's human, and some mistakes he can never make up for, but he keeps trying to do good anyway. The fact that you WANT to paint him as a villain, to the point that you'll just rip things out of context and twist then to fit your liking, says more about you than Tony Stark.

Mysterio exposing Peter's identity to J. Jonah Jameson has the same energy as Tony exposing Clint's family to Ross