#never woulda happened in my childhood

[failfemme]

not to “back in my day,” but remember when lightbulbs got good

[joelscruff]

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

previous chapters | welp. it's here. this one is a DOOZY, and i'm so sorry. i never expected it to get this long but oh well!!! go grab a snack and get settled cause this one is kinda wild. love u guys sm. i proofread this very quickly so i apologize if there's any mistakes!! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: the pressure is building in more ways than one. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexting, n00ds, oral (m receiving), lap-sitting, thigh riding, alcohol, lemme know if i missed any! word count: 15.6k ao3

You're beginning to learn that Joel runs hot and cold.

There have been moments with him, intimate and special and warm, moments that make you feel light on your feet and send butterflies wilding through your stomach. Moments where he's open and present and wants all his attention to be on you, on your body, your pleasure. His touch sets you alight, his words send tingles down your spine.

And then weekdays happen and you start second guessing yourself all over again.

On Sunday you'd attended church with your parents, another attempt at appeasing your mother in lieu of all the lies and deceit. You've only gone to a select few services since you came home, something you know they've been silently judging you for and just waiting to hold above your head. Admittedly you'd been afraid of bumping into people you knew, having to switch on your teenage persona of Good Catholic Girl™ and lie through your teeth about how good it feels to be back home again. Luckily in the few services you'd attended, you'd only run into some elderly family friends, managing to avoid anyone you went to high school with.

Your luck had to run out at some point, though. This service you'd been accosted by none other than Bethany, one of your childhood friends who you'd practically left in the dust when you'd gone away for college. Her friendship was always full of judgement, perfection, and not to mention heaps of Catholic guilt. She'd taken one look at you, appraising you up and down as if assessing you for imperfections, then pulled you into a tight hug.

"It's so good see you," she'd said when she'd pulled back, a wide - and borderline frightening - grin plastered on her face, "My momma told me you were back, thought I woulda heard from you by now!"

Your mother, standing beside you in your pew, had furrowed her brow at this, clearly confused. You hadn't understood her reaction completely until Bethany had headed off to go say hi to someone else.

"I thought you had lunch with her and Alice the other week," she'd murmured softly to you under her breath, giving you an accusatory look, "Said you'd be helping them out over the summer. That's what you told me, anyway."

Fuck.

"O-oh, right," you'd had no idea what else to say other than that, biting down on your lip and staring straight ahead as the service began. She hadn't said anything else about it, but you'd sat in discomfort and anxiety for the next hour.

In a panic, you'd found Bethany after the service and quickly asked if she needed any extra help at Sunday School, to which she'd responded with enthusiasm - a little too much - that they always needed extra hands on Thursdays to help with lesson planning. You'd jumped at the chance, telling her you'd be there.

That night you'd texted Joel. You hadn't heard from him all day despite it being a weekend, and part of you had been hoping you might go over and see him once your parents were asleep.

guess who's volunteering at church now? this idiot.

You'd expected words of comfort, maybe a joke, at least something that would make you feel better about the situation. However, his response to yours had been brief, short, simple:

Rough. Get some sleep x

This trend of short responses has only continued throughout the rest of the week. He's distant when you text him, responds with a few words at best, short and simple and almost like an entirely different person. It's hard to believe it's the same man who whispers good girl in your ear and tells you how well you're doing, how wet you are, how pretty you look. His texts are some ghostly version of him, constantly fading in and out, barely showing interest or desire - that is, if he texts you at all.

It makes your skin itch, sends your insecurities into a tailspin. Why does this always seem to happen? You can't make heads or tails of it - you know he's busy, know that his job takes a lot out of him, and yet you can't help but feel that there's something more he's not telling you. He'd told you on his back deck all about how he wasn't very happy at his job, how he'd prefer to be retired by now, living life on his own terms - so why can't he just do that? It's clearly taking a toll on him, and while part of you feels empathetic and yearns to comfort him, another part feels angry, irritated.

You'd gone to your friends with these concerns, hoping for some sort of answer or solution to the problem. Instead, they'd been more sympathetic to Joel's plight than yours.

you gotta remember you're not in a relationship with him babe

right!! men are v simple creatures. they see things black & white. ur his fuck buddy and he prob doesn't rly want it to go beyond that.

now THAT'S going too far. she's more than his fuck buddy definitely. he wouldn't have told her his whole life story last weekend if that were true.

telling her he had a fucked up childhood isn't necessarily his whole life story. most guys had shitty childhoods lbr

but he opened up!!!!! fuck buddies don't do that.

exactly

i wish you guys were here :(

i'm honestly 5 secs away from booking a flight to texas bestie. gotta use my dad's frequent flier miles somehow.

--

"My friend Tasha is coming to visit this weekend," you tell your mom on Wednesday evening with a smile, turning your phone toward her to show the Airbnb you'll be staying at, "We're gonna stay at this little bungalow, have a girls' weekend."

Her brow furrows, "Why can't Tasha stay here?"

Because Tasha would terrify you, you want to say, because Tasha doesn't wear pants unless absolutely necessary. Instead you just smile again and say, "I think a change of scenery would be good for me, it'll be like a mini vacation. Plus there's a hot tub."

"Now that's something we need," she turns back to her book with a shake of her head, "I swear, your father is more interested in buying that boat we'll never use instead of something new for the backyard." You hadn't been asking for her permission, but her indifference sends a wave of relief through you; you've still been trying to be on your absolute best behavior lately to make up for the lies.

You head out to the backyard and seat yourself in a lounge chair by the pool, unlocking your phone again and swiping to your last conversation with Joel from last night.

hope you had a good day :)

I'm sure yours was better. Sleep well x

Curt and to the point, not at all what you'd wanted him to reply with. You recall one of your first phone conversations, the one where you'd been experiencing the same lack of interest in his texts, what he'd said to you: Don't think for one second that I don't think about you. But how can you not? How are you supposed to feel desired when he's being like this?

can you call me tonight?

You try not to wait too long before biting the bullet, not wanting to talk yourself out of it, but you do stare at the message with your finger hovering over the send button for longer than you really need to. The sound of the back door sliding open forces you to send it, locking your phone again as your mother walks over and seats herself beside you in another chair.

"It's nice to see you wearing that again," she says with a nod to your chest, referring to your crucifix - after wearing it again last weekend you'd thought that keeping it on might please her. "You're starting to really settle in here again, aren't you?"

You try not to grimace, "Yeah, it's nice being home."

She leans back in her chair, letting the suns rays hit her for a little bit without speaking. You sit there waiting for her to say something else, discomfort flooding through you. You're reminded of how easy it was to sit with Joel in his backyard last weekend, how little pressure there was to put up any kind of front - sitting here with your mother is the exact opposite.

"So, you lied to me," she finally says, voice quiet.

Your eyes widen and you sit up a bit, turning to her with panic already rising in your throat, "Wh-what do you mean?"

She doesn't turn to look at you, continuing to stare at the sky, eyes covered by her comically large sunglasses, "You know what I mean."

You sit there, staring at her with a mix of confusion and fear. There's no way she knows about Joel, how could she know? Who would have told her? You wonder if perhaps one of her neighborhood friends saw you leaving his house, saw you in his car... but the guise of lessons is your cover now, so how would any of that point to your relationship?

Some relationship, you can't help but think to yourself, based entirely on sex and only communication on the weekends.

"Bethany and Alice," your mom finally states, and you feel the panic in the pit of your stomach loosen immediately - oh.

"Mom," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I-I know. I'm sorry. I know I told you we met up but..." you bite your lip, trying to come up with some kind of excuse but coming up empty.

Instead, you do something that surprises you entirely - you tell the truth. Or at least... half of it.

"I really feel like my friendship with them has passed," you admit with a frown, "I'm... I'm different than I was when I left, you know that, don't you? I'm sure you've noticed."

She's still not looking at you but you catch her nodding slowly, thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry I lied but... I didn't want to disappoint you. And I didn't want you to worry about me being alone all the time. I'm actually rarely ever alone at college so it's been nice to have some time to myself," you smile, thinking of the girls in your group chat constantly waiting for new updates, "Having lunch with two people I haven't talked to in years just... didn't seem appealing to me. I have different friends now, you know? I'm older, people outgrow each other."

"Friends like Tasha," your mom states, bitterness in her voice, "Tasha who you don't even want me to meet."

You make a face, "Mom..."

She puts her hands up in defeat, shaking her head, "It's fine. You can do what you want and so can she," the words are drenched in judgement, "But you should remember that there are rules for staying here, young lady. And honesty is one of those rules."

You take a deep breath, swinging your legs around the edge of the chair and placing your arms on your knees, your face in your hands. You're so close to snapping back at her, making a comment that'll surely start an argument, but you shove it back down as best you can, counting to ten in your head.

"I'm sorry," you finally say through gritted teeth, "It won't happen again."

"It better not." She stands up then, disappears from the chair as quickly as she'd settled in it. You watch as she walks to the back door again, reaches for the handle.

Your mouth can't stop itself.

"Have you told Dad about my guitar lessons yet?"

She freezes, turns and stares at you for a moment without saying anything, then opens the door and heads back inside, slamming it behind her.

Checkmate.

--

I will when I get home.

Your anxiety is through the roof as you pace back and forth in your bedroom after darkness has fallen, freshly showered and pampered and already out of distractions. Without really thinking much about it, you pull Joel's flannel from under your mattress and wrap it around your shoulders, breathing him in as you sit on your bed and try your best not to keep checking your phone. When it finally vibrates you're not even embarrassed when you pick up on the first ring.

"Hey," you murmur, settling into your sheets and closing your eyes, "Is everything okay?"

"With me?" he asks, voice tired and gruff, "Thought it'd be the other way around."

Your brow furrows, "What do you mean?"

"Thought you'd wanna talk about this church volunteerin' stuff," he's moving around as he talks - you hear the sound of a cupboard banging and the clang of a glass against a countertop.

You don't speak for a moment, listening to the sound of liquid being poured into a cup and Joel taking a swig. There's no sound of the tap - you'd be willing to bet that it's not water he's drinking.

"No, I..." you frown, "I was worried about you."

You hear him take another sip, swallowing loudly and then placing the cup back down with a clink. More pouring. You swear you hear the faint sound of a chuckle before he takes another swig.

"Well that's silly," he states, and you suddenly notice there's a strange difference in his voice, a heaviness you're not used to.

"Are you drunk?"

He chuckles again but there's no humor in it, "Nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be."

You frown, readjusting yourself against the pillows. You hear him take another sip, "Did something happen?"

He sighs then, deep and tired. You hear him put the glass back down on the counter, "No, babygirl, nothin' happened," hearing him say your pet name makes you feel a little better, the anxiety ebbing away a bit, "It's just that my job is the bane of my fuckin' existence."

He sounds genuinely exhausted, words tinged with resentment. You pull his flannel tighter around yourself, breathe him in, pretend you're in the same room as him, "Talk to me," you say softly, "Tell me what's wrong."

He doesn't reply for a moment - you can make out some footsteps on the other end, the creak of his stairs as he goes up to his bedroom, "No, darlin', it's nothin'. Shouldn't be talkin' about this with you."

"Hey, if something's bothering you, I wanna hear about it. I wanna make it better... if I can."

You hear him settle onto his bed, a satisfied little noise emanating from his throat that makes you smile, "That's the thing, babygirl. You can't. This is just the way life works. You do shit you hate and then you die, plain and simple."

"Joel," you admonish quietly - it's the first time you've said his name aloud since last weekend, it feels right on your lips, safe. He sighs but doesn't say anything else, breath evening out in your ear. "What is it? Really? I've been worrying about it all week."

"Oh honey," he murmurs softly. "Shouldn't be worryin' about me, there are more important things."

"Not to me," you admit, closing your eyes and shaking your head even though he can't see you, "First I thought maybe you were just busy, but-"

"Busy," he scoffs, "Right, yeah, busy. That's my middle name at this point. Fuckin' busy."

He really doesn't sound like himself - you know you still don't know him very well at this point, could be wrong about so many things, but part of you just knows that this isn't Joel. You know his softness, his safety, his kind eyes and crooked smile. This version of him sounds so sad; you can't help but wish you were in his bed right now, able to hold him close and run your fingers through his grey curls. You want him to open up to you.

"You don't wanna hear this shit, angel, you don't," he continues, voice gentler this time, "I know you're thinkin' somethin' is wrong, thinkin' somethin' in particular happened to make me feel like this, but the truth is..." he sighs again, deliberates for a moment and then simply states, "Truth is I'm just bein' stupid."

"You're not stupid," you say immediately, and he chuckles.

"God, you're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "It's nice to hear your voice."

Your feel your skin heat up at the words, crossing your legs together unconsciously, "It's nice to hear yours too," you whisper with a smile, "I've missed you this week. Every time you've texted me it's felt like it's not really you."

"I'm sorry, baby," you can hear the sincerity in his voice buried underneath the tiredness and alcohol, "I'm just... I'm a mess." You hear him shuffle a bit in bed, like he's turning onto his side, "Work is always puttin' me in a shitty mood lately and I just...I don't want you to see this side of me."

"But why?"

Another sigh, then-

"'Cause I don't want you to look at me differently."

You bring the sleeve of his flannel to your lips, "I could never look at you differently, Joel," you whisper, "Promise."

He's quiet for a moment and you hope you haven't upset him, hope he's just thinking about what to say. You mean your words; it really would take a lot for you to look at him differently. You know you probably shouldn't feel that way considering you've known him less than a month, that the feeling should scare you... but it doesn't.

"I'm tired, angel," he finally says, voice sad and distant, "I'm too old to be doin' this job."

You wait for him to speak again, listening as he takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line, almost like he hasn't told anyone this. And maybe he hasn't.

"But it's hard to admit that to myself," he continues, "And even harder to admit it to you of all people. I don't want you to see some washed up, tired, old geezer, ya know?" he says it with humor but you can tell that he means it, "I mean I used to... god, I used to be able to do shifts like this no problem. Be up at five and home by midnight and able to do it all over again the next day. Now it's like I'm runnin' on a half empty tank of gas. Got no joy in this job anymore and my back is killin' me and-" he cuts himself off suddenly, "And I need to shut the fuck up before I scare you away."

"You're not gonna scare me away," you whisper, and you mean it, "I'm not going anywhere."

He laughs softly to himself; you're not sure if he believes you, but you're choosing to hope that he does, "Ya know, I didn't even wanna tell you my age when we were first together? I wasn't gonna tell you, I really wasn't. But then you were so sweet and vulnerable and honest with me-"

You scoff, "Yeah, lying about knowing how to play guitar, that's certainly honesty."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," he chastises - you can hear the sudden smile in his voice, "No, darlin'... when you told me you hadn't done anythin' before. That's when I knew I had to tell you, 'cause it wouldn't have been right otherwise," he makes an odd noise in his throat and then corrects, "Not that any of this is really right, but..."

"It feels right," you say softly, staring down at the plaid lines on the flannel shirt shrouding your body, reminding you of what it means - that you're his.

"It does," he agrees, voice rough and low, "Right and wrong in all the right ways, huh babygirl?"

You nod to yourself, unable to help the grin that spreads across your face, "Exactly."

The both of you are silent for a few moments but just like last weekend, it isn't uncomfortable or awkward. It's calming and safe, just listening to each other's breathing. You can tell he's tired, can hear it in his slow exhales; again, you can't help but wish you were lying beside him. And you can't help but wonder if a more sober Joel would have even said any of this to you, would have just kept it to himself and continued to deal with it in silence, not bothering to tell anyone how he's been feeling. It breaks your heart a little bit.

"It'll be okay," you whisper gently, soothingly, "It won't be like this forever, Joel."

He sighs, deep and sleepy, "You really are an angel," he murmurs, "So sweet and lovely, babygirl. Love hearin' you say my name like that."

His words send warmth throughout your body - no one has ever spoken to you the way Joel speaks to you, makes you feel the way he makes you feel. You close your eyes and bury your face in the sleeve of his flannel, listen as his breathing gets slow again.

"You should get some sleep," you whisper, even though you really don't want to end the call - but Joel is tired and you want him to feel better, "Text me tomorrow, okay? Even if you're grumpy."

He almost laughs but he's so close to sleep that it comes out slurred and low, "Okay, baby, I will. Promise."

"Goodnight, J-"

"Wait wait wait," he suddenly sounds a bit more alert, rousing himself from sleep, "You didn't tell me 'bout this church thing. You okay with it?"

You giggle at his sudden concern, "It's nothing, really. Just helping an old friend out with lesson plans for Sunday School. Not very exciting."

"Fun," his voice is sleepy and low again, "What're you gonna wear?"

You have to bite down on your lip to stifle another laugh, shaking your head even though he can't see you, "Go to bed, you perv."

He chuckles, "Okay, okay. Goodnight, angel."

"Goodnight, Joel."

You're about to end the call when you hear him murmur one final thing, so soft you're surprised you can even make it out - but you do:

"Hope I dream about you."

You fall asleep with a smile glued to your lips.

--

You end up wearing the same outfit you'd worn to Joel's last Saturday, though you leave the stockings at home; you doubt the women at church will be offended by your bare legs. You fasten your crucifix around your neck and make sure your mom gets a good look at you before you leave the house; you haven't spoken since yesterday afternoon but you still want her to see you're putting in some effort, as surface level as it may be.

She's in the living room when you come down the stairs, and her expression can't help but turn to one of surprise when she looks up from her book to see you standing there in your Sunday best.

"I'm going to the church," you explain softly, "Gonna help out Bethany with the lesson plan for Sunday School."

She assesses you up and down, eyes fixing on your crucifix for a moment before trailing back down to her book. She doesn't say a word.

Silent treatment. Typical.

Fifteen minutes later you find yourself being greeted by Bethany, blonde hair flowing down her dress as she stands outside the church with a bright smile plastered on her face. You recognize the forced expression immediately, one that you yourself have become an expert in feigning, though for different reasons. You haven't seen her in years but you still know her well enough to tell when she's less than thrilled about something - this time that "something" is you being there.

"I'm so excited you're here!" she tells you, voice shrill as she immediately takes a step forward to envelop you in a haphazard hug that feels neither excited nor genuine.

You should have known it would be like this. When you'd left for college a few years ago you'd promised to keep in touch with both Alice and Bethany, the only "solid" friends you'd managed to keep throughout all the studying, the tutoring, the church services, the extracurriculars, volunteering, etc. It's a miracle in itself that your friendship had even lasted through high school, if you're being honest. You'd begun to distance yourself from them a bit in those final years as you started to lose your faith while theirs only seemed to grow stronger. Leaving for college had been the last nail in the coffin.

"Me too!" you lie, feigning a similar smile as you both pull back from each other.

Though her grin is unrelenting, you can see the distance in her eyes, the sourness and disdain for your presence extremely evident. She doesn't like you. There's an awkward few seconds of silence where she assesses you up and down again, like she had at the service on Sunday.

Why did you even say yes to me coming here? You want to ask as you stand in front of her awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. If you didn't want me here you could have just said there wasn't anything for me to do. But you already know why you'd still been invited despite her obvious disdain for you - keeping up appearances means everything to these people; actually being honest about her feelings would have been disastrous for her reputation.

"Was sure you'd forgotten all about me," she finally says with an edge of malice still shrouded through her smile, "Haven't heard from you in what? Three years? And then you just show up outta the blue, huh?"

You grimace, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. There was... I mean, I've just had a lot going on, I guess." You kick your feet awkwardly; this is not the conversation you want to be having right now.

"A lot goin' on, huh?" she echoes, eyes still scanning you up and down, "Right. Busy with college?"

You nod quickly, "Yeah, it's been kinda crazy."

She raises an eyebrow, "What are you studyin' again?"

"English Lit."

She snorts then, shaking her head and taking a step back, "Right. Reading. Sure sounds crazy."

Your brow furrows, "It's more than that."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," she puts her hands up in defense, fake laughing and smacking her lips together, "Just find it funny that an English Lit degree takes up so much of your time." She's being pretty bold with the sarcasm but you suppose she has a right to be angry, though you'd never assumed she'd be this pissed about you cutting her off, "Anyway, we should get inside, they're waitin' for us."

"Bethany," you take a step toward her, softening your expression, "I'm really sorry."

She just shakes her head again and turns away from you to reach for the handle on the front door, forced smile finally fading into a natural frown, "Forget it."

Great start.

You don't talk much after that, not after you're led into a side room off the chapel where a few other women are sitting in a circle with binders in their laps. Bethany simply gestures for you sit down in an empty chair and the meeting begins. Everyone immediately begins their rapport, discussing their plans and reading quotes aloud from their binders while you just kind of sit there unsure of what to do or say. A few of the women give you a tentative smile or two, but the way Bethany periodically glares at you is enough to keep them from actually speaking to you directly. You're okay with it though; as awkward as this is, you'd rather sit in silence than have to pretend. Still, if you'd known it would be like this you never would have come - it's not like your mother appreciates it anyway.

Your phone vibrates at one point, a text from Tasha confirming her flight information with lots of !!!!!!'s that make you smile. As if sensing your sudden mood shift, Bethany puts her hands up with another grin that doesn't reach her eyes.

"We keep phones in our purses" she says sweetly, "So we don't get distracted."

You nod and slip it back inside your bag, a gesture that's more of a peace offering than anything else; it seems to appease her.

It's strange being inside this part of the church again after so long. You'd attended your own Sunday School lessons here, prepped for choir and readings, learned your scripture. It certainly doesn't feel as safe or inviting as it once did, though you have to admit that there was always an undercurrent of pressure, of judgement - an energy that still remains today. Bethany watches you closely, quietly assessing you as you nod along to everyone's suggestions and ideas and try to keep up your long-time façade of obedience. You push down the new parts of you that long to take back a bit of control, maybe say something shocking or suggest something ridiculous just to see how they'd react.

You've been sitting in silence for about forty five minutes when Bethany announces its time for a quick phone break. Like clockwork everyone in the room pulls out their devices and starts checking for missed calls from their kids, their husbands. You pull yours out and your eyebrows go up in surprise when you see a text from Joel on your lockscreen:

How's your day going angel?

He didn't forget his promise. A smile plays at your lips as you start typing out your reply, but it quickly fades when you feel Bethany's eyes on you, watching.

"I'm, uh-" you stand up, smoothing out the creases in your dress and gripping your phone tightly, "I'm gonna take a bathroom break."

--

The bathroom is the same as you remember it, high ceilings and white walls, your footsteps echoing loudly as you walk over to the sinks and lean your back against the countertop. You continue typing out your reply to Joel:

well all the church ladies are giving me the silent treatment til i'm worthy of being here again lol. but jokes on them cause my mom is also giving me the silent treatment so i have training! anyway i miss you. wanna hug you. hope you're feeling a bit better today 💕

You turn around and face the mirror while you wait for his reply. You're still smiling - it's impossible not to when you're thinking about Joel, but this smile is bright and genuine, unlike the forced grins you've been sharing with Bethany for the past hour. God, you can't remember the last time anything made you feel as free and happy as Joel makes you, like nothing else really matters. Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the mirror to read his reply:

Aw baby I'm sorry. I wanna hug you too. Wanna do a bit more than hug if I'm being honest, but you know that already.

You bring your other hand up to your mouth, smiling even wider into it as his typing bubble pops up again only seconds later:

And I'm sorry about last night. If I said anything stupid please forget it ever happened. Me and alcohol don't mix that well sometimes. I'm alright, don't worry about me x

But I do worry, you want to say, I want to make you feel better. But how can you do that from a church bathroom, miles away from wherever he is right now? You're suddenly reminded of something he'd told you a few weeks ago, something you hadn't quite understood in the moment - You can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures.

Oh.

You look at yourself in the mirror again and carefully place your phone down on the edge of the sink. Your hand slowly comes up to push aside the collar of your dress, pull the stretchy material past your shoulder and down your arm. You do the same to the other side, slipping out of your sleeves and tugging down the high neckline of your dress to expose your bare chest to the mirror, putting your cleavage on display. You bite your lip, willing yourself to see what Joel sees, a pretty girl in a pretty dress, bra straps clinging to her skin and a crucifix hanging from her throat. Filthy.

You grab your phone and turn it toward the mirror, opening up your camera app and moving it close enough so he can see only your torso, sleeves hanging limp at your sides while your other arm comes up to squeeze your breasts together a bit, accentuating your cleavage even more. You snap a pic and send it to him before you can talk yourself out of it.

He replies seconds later:

Fuck

A grin spreads across your face and you make quick work of slipping your bra straps down your shoulders as well, just as another text from him comes in:

Send me another baby. Please.

Already one step ahead of you, you think to yourself as your cheeks warm and you pull down the cups of your bra, your breasts spilling out into the cool air of the bathroom. You squeeze them together again, nipples hardening tightly as you take another picture and send it along with a coy message:

better?

He must be staring at his phone, waiting for it, because his typing bubble appears instantaneously. You can't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you're holding right now, a change of pace from your usual naivety.

Oh babygirl. This is just what I needed.

i know :)

You glance at the bathroom door and then at the time - you still have a few minutes before the meeting starts up again and your mind is already racing with what you can do with those few minutes. With barely any hesitation you tug your dress up over your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and aiming your phone underneath. You frown when you pull your phone back up to find that it's dark and blurry.

"Hold on," you whisper to no one, then carefully lift your leg and place your heel on the countertop for support, pulling your dress up again and aiming your phone a little better. You pull back your panties and aren't surprised in the slightest to feel that they're suddenly damp.

This picture comes out much better. Your pussy is bare and a little wet, clit poking out past your lips, panties pulled against your inner thigh. You already know it's gonna make him crazy as you hit send.

Jesus Christ

He's already typing something else when you receive it and you can't help but giggle, covering your mouth and trying to picture where he is right now, what he's doing. Is he in a bathroom too? On a break? Or is he in the middle of a job, surrounded by other people? The latter thought makes you even wetter somehow.

Fuck you have such a pretty pussy baby.

thank you mr. miller :)

Will you hold her open a little for me? Show me that sweet little hole?

Who are you to deny such a request? With heat radiating all over your body you bring your phone down again and scissor your lips apart, exposing the innermost part of yourself to your phone camera. You can feel your own slick on the tips of your fingers, and when you push yourself open you feel a bit of your wetness dribble down onto your palm. Fuck. This is hotter than you'd expected it would be. You'd thought it would be a good way to make him feel better, get him through his work day like he'd said; you never thought you'd enjoy it this much.

Oh sweetheart. Look at that.

You feel another rush of pride as you take your leg down from the counter and tug your dress back down, rubbing your thighs together and doing everything in your power not to touch yourself again even though you want to. A quiet whimper unconsciously tears itself past your lips at his follow-up message:

Who's that perfect pussy belong to babygirl?

You've never typed a message back so fast in your life.

you. it's yours mr. miller.

That's right. Good girl.

Your skin is on fire, body tingling in all the right places. You smooth a hand down your bare chest, cup one of your breasts, gently squeeze. It's impossible for your eyes not to roll back a bit when you imagine Joel's hand on you instead, big and firm and callused and perfect. Your pussy throbs in your underwear and another whimper slips past your lips.

i'm really wet now :(

I know angel. Come over tonight and I'll take care of it, Ok?

Your heart leaps at the invitation, even more wetness pooling in your panties at the thought of what Joel might want to do tonight, if there's another “lesson” he has in mind.

yes please

Eyeing the time again, you bite your lip in disappointment when you realize you should probably be getting back. You wait until Joel has finished typing his final response, a message that makes your skin burn with anticipation:

Don't touch yourself til you see me. Keep that soft little pussy hidden, baby. Promise me.

i promise x

Just as you hit send you suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps down the hall, quickly approaching the bathroom. Your eyes widen in the mirror, gaze snapping to your bare breasts, sleeves still hanging loosely at your sides. In a panic you hurriedly attempt to stuff yourself back into your bra before you have company – but you're not that lucky.

The bathroom door bangs open and you freeze with one arm halfway through your sleeve, breasts still completely exposed in the mirror as you turn on the spot to see none other than Bethany standing there, frozen in place.

“I-” she looks flabbergasted, expression one of pure horror as she takes a step back from you and grips the knob of the door like she could rip it off at any moment. Your free arm that isn't trapped in a sleeve comes up to cover yourself as best you can, but you know she's already seen everything.

“I'm- I was just-” You're similarly taken aback and at a complete loss for words, unsure how the fuck you can explain what exactly she's just walked in on.

Her eyes fall to the phone in your hand, like she's putting the pieces together, then she shakily takes another step back and leaves without saying another word, the click of her heels echoing back at you loudly until the door finishes closing behind her.

Shit.

You don't have time to stand around thinking up an excuse; you do briefly consider escaping through one of the windows to avoid facing her, but you know it would just delay the inevitable. Instead you hastily finish pulling your dress back on and stare at yourself in the mirror for one final moment.

Your smile is gone. So is the light in your eyes. You suddenly begin to feel that familiar sense of guilt creeping in, the shame, the sin. You blink a few times and find that there are tears welling up in your eyes, a lump in your throat. A tiny voice in the back of your mind, one you've been attempting to mute for years, whispers to you: What have you done?

--

Bethany doesn't speak to or look at you for the rest of the meeting. It's not much of a change from before you'd gone to the bathroom, but there's something new in her silence now, something you can see in her eyes as she stares down at her binder while the other women talk. Fear. You've known her for most of your life, can sense certain mood changes from a mile away; you've frightened her. And somehow that just adds even more to the guilt building in your stomach.

You'll apologize to her after the meeting, it's all you can do. You genuinely feel horrible that she'd walked in on something so private, seen something she never intended or desired to ever see. You wonder if there's anything you can use to pass off as an excuse; maybe you spilled something on your dress and were cleaning it off? Maybe it was too tight and you needed a breather? Anything is better than the alternative – the truth – but you somehow doubt she'll believe anything you say at this point. That bridge was broken the second you left for college; there's no repairing it now.

The meeting ends with a few pleasantries exchanged and several comments about picking kids up from school, getting home to cook something for dinner, normal things that remind you how abnormal your own situation is in comparison. Half an hour ago you'd felt on top of the world, in control, had power in the tips of your fingers. Now you just feel small again, inconsequential.

You wait until the other ladies have left before taking a step toward Bethany, ready to unload your apologies and beg for forgiveness. She surprises you by speaking first.

"I'd think twice before wearing that again,” she hisses at you, venomous and pointed. Your eyes widen.

"Excuse me?"

"I said,” her words are slow and full of bitter intention, eyes glaring daggers at you, “I'd think twice before wearing that again" she gestures to the crucifix around your neck and you unconsciously reach up to take it between your fingers, glancing down at it before looking back up to meet her angry gaze.

“I'm...” you feel overwhelmed, tears pricking in your eyes again at the sudden burst of rage being directed at you, “I don't...”

"You might not understand this,” she practically spits through her teeth, “but that symbol actually means something to the people here."

"I know what it means.” It comes out as barely a whisper, voice shaky as she takes an intimidating step toward you with nothing but malice in her expression.

"So that's why you've got your breasts out in a public bathroom? A church bathroom?”

“Bethany, I-”

“You're not welcome here anymore, understand?” her voice is full of finality, “You can come to church with your parents-” The mention of your parents sends your anxiety into a tailspin, heart beating frantically in your chest as she continues to step closer and closer toward you, “And you can pretend you're their good little girl. But I know the truth. And it's not welcome in my Sunday School ever again. Got it?”

My Sunday school. The superiority complex is strong and you know deep down that this is all completely rooted in her own fears, her own desires, her pride, but none of that seems to matter when she's staring you down like this, holding you captive with her hostile words.

"Got it,” you whisper, nodding shakily.

"Good. Now go home and take," she points toward the crucifix, the tip of her finger close enough to faintly brush against the shape of it, “that,” she suddenly prods it, giving you one final sneer, “off.”

It takes you twenty minutes to leave the parking lot after that, tears blurring your vision as you cry in your car and try not to let the shame completely envelop you.

--

Going to Joel's that night carries none of the anticipation you'd felt earlier this afternoon; instead you feel nothing but shame as you steal your mother's house key from its dish in the hallway, closing the front door behind you as softly as you can and hurrying out into the night. There's no excitement or rush like the last time you'd done this. You feel like you could cry at any moment as you approach Joel's house, climbing his front steps with a heavy weight on your shoulders that wasn't there before, that hasn't been there in weeks.

The door opens before you can even turn the knob – he must have been watching from his window, waiting for you in anticipation for tonight's “lesson”. Your stomach lurches.

“There's my little Sunday School girl,” he murmurs, taking your hand and tugging you gently inside.

“Please don't call me that,” you say quietly, head down.

He shuts the door behind you and takes your hands in his – you can feel his eyes on you but you're unsure of the look on his face, what expression is on it. Does he sense there's something wrong? Or is he waiting for you to jump his bones?

“Hey,” his voice is soft, concerned, “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, still staring at the floor.

“What happened, babygirl?” he murmurs, one of his hands releasing yours to come up and stroke your cheek gently, thumb grazing the wetness beneath your eyes, “Why're you cryin', darlin'? C'mere.” His finger travels down to your chin, pushes your face up to look at him.

His expression is worried, brow furrowed and forehead creased, a frown playing at his lips. You feel your heartbeat slow, the weight on your shoulders decreasing just a little bit as safety settles in your bones. He cares.

“I had a horrible day,” you whisper, feeling tears trickle down into the corners of your mouth, “I know you want to...want to...” you shake your head, “Whatever we were gonna do. But I don't think I can tonight, Joel. I don't feel good.”

“Oh, babygirl,” he breathes, releasing your chin and immediately wrapping you up in his embrace, arms tightening around you as he pulls you against his chest, “We don't have to do anythin', don't even worry about that.”

You bury your face in his chest, breathe him in. His flannel underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, the real smell of him overtaking your senses and filling you with a true feeling of warmth and safety. His arms are so big – he's so big – and without meaning to you find yourself going completely limp in his arms, bones turning to jelly. It's like finally breathing in the fresh air after holding your breath underwater, a natural reaction to finally being where you belong.

He doesn't question your body's response, almost seems to understand completely as he pulls you up from the floor and adjusts you slightly to cradle you in his arms, carrying you past the living room, past the kitchen, up the stairs and to his bedroom. You just close your eyes and bury your face in his shirt, inhale the scent of sawdust and sweat and cedar and Joel.

He tips you gently onto his bed, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you without saying anything. You feel his arm wrap around you, tug you in closer beside him as he noses your hair and lets you just exist.

Minutes pass before you finally break the comfortable silence, voice quiet and small - “I feel so ashamed.”

You feel his brow furrow in your hair and you turn around to face him, bringing your arm up around his torso and pressing your hand firmly against his back. He looks at you with confusion, concern.

You tell him everything. About Bethany, your friendship with her and Alice before you left for college, the way you'd already begun to lose your faith even then. You tell him about your mom, about the silent treatment and her reaction to the white lie, the lie that's practically nothing in the grand scheme of deceit you've been weaving these past few weeks. You talk about church and Sunday School and all the guilt you'd felt in that little room growing up, how being there again felt wrong and uncomfortable. You tell him how free you'd felt in the bathroom with your camera, the power you'd felt, reclaimed, and how all of it had been snatched away from you the second Bethany had entered. How she'd destroyed any semblance of confidence you'd been able to find today, how she'd shamed you for the crucifix that you don't even want to be wearing. It's the most you've ever told him, the most you've ever talked to him about anything.

And he listens.

He doesn't seem put out by your venting, annoyed or irritated or ready to send you home at any minute. He just nods, frowns at the right moments, strokes your arm and your cheek, kisses your forehead when you start to cry. Wipes the tears away when you apologize for crying. He stays with you and remains present and attentive, lets you talk and talk until you start to apologize for how much you've been talking.

“I know this isn't even what you signed up for,” you blubber, shaking your head and bringing your hands up to cover your face, “I'm sorry I keep bringing so much- so many complications into your life.”

“Shh,” he soothes, placing his large hands on yours and pulling them away from your tired eyes, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, “Stop apologizin', baby. Stop. You've got nothin' to be sorry for.”

You suddenly sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and bringing a hand up to touch the crucifix still clasped around your neck. You hadn't taken it off like she'd told you to do; you'd felt like doing so would have made you weak, would have been like giving up, even though you'd never wanted to even wear it again in the first place.

“Why does this little thing have so much fucking power over me?” you ask aloud, not directed at Joel but more-so to yourself, “My whole life, no one has ever seen me, they've just seen this.” You shake your head, squeezing the tiny cross in your hand. “And wearing it again has just brought all that shit back, it's done absolutely nothing good. Wore it for my mom and she still gives me the silent treatment. Wore it for Bethany and she still treats me like garbage, tells me to take it off. It's just a fucking necklace.”

Joel sits up beside you, places a warm hand on your thigh and peers at you with those soft brown eyes, lulling you back into a sense of calm, of serenity.

“Give it to me,” he says quietly.

Your brow furrows in confusion. You stare at him for a moment, then watch as he carefully brings his hands up to graze his callused fingertips against your neck, brushing the chain.

“I'll take it off your hands for a bit,” he murmurs, “Outta sight, outta mind. And if you want it back, I'll have it ready for you. How's that sound?”

You nod slowly to yourself, feeling your eyes begin to sting again at his words, “...Good. Th-that sounds good.”

Without saying anything else you hear the sound of the clasp being undone, feel the chain slip away from your skin as Joel takes it from you. You turn your head to watch as he fists it in his palm for a moment, gaze thoughtful and faraway as he traces the shape of the cross with his thumb. A few seconds later he opens his bedside table and carefully places it inside, then shuts the drawer.

And just like that, the weight is gone.

--

You take a shower in his bathroom again, wanting to wash this day off you and start over, clean slate. You could have had one when you got home from the meeting earlier but you'd instead opted to just lay in bed feeling sorry for yourself for much longer than you'd needed to. Now you close your eyes and let the hot water envelop you, wash yourself with Joel's body wash and allow yourself to become his again, picturing him laying in his bed in the other room, waiting for you. This is what matters. This moment. Right now.

You enter his bedroom wrapped in one of his towels, drops of water still spilling down your skin onto the hardwood floor. He's sitting up in bed, shirtless with his legs hidden under the covers. He's seemingly deep in thought as he stares at his phone screen, brows scrunched together. You watch as he pulls the phone away from himself, eyes squinting and lips parting a bit, then pulls it back, like he can't see what he's looking at properly. You realize that's probably the case.

“You need glasses,” you say with a soft giggle, and his expression relaxes when he sees you standing there, phone going back on his nightstand.

“I have glasses,” he admits sheepishly, giving you a tender smile, “Just hate wearin' 'em.”

“Of course,” you roll your eyes and take a few steps forward, still gripping the towel around yourself. His eyes fall to the parts of you that are bare, revelling in the way the lamplight reflects on your wet skin. You feel tingles erupt through your senses under his gaze.

“Are you naked?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head, “Wearin' pants, don't worry.”

You stand there for a moment, staring. He just stares back, eyebrows going up a bit while he waits for you to say something else. When you don't, he tilts his head slightly, appraising you.

“Do you want me to be naked, babygirl?”

You're answering before you even really know what you want, "Yes."

Without needing to be told twice he reaches under the covers with both hands and shimmies his way out of his pajama bottoms, staying hidden under the sheets as he tosses them out onto the floor. You bite your lip, still just standing there staring at him without moving. You're still dripping everywhere, a little puddle of water forming at your feet the longer you stay frozen.

He raises his finger and playfully curls it toward himself with a smile, "C'mere, baby," he murmurs, "Be naked with me."

You don't need telling twice either.

The towel drops from your body, landing in the puddle of water on the floor - easy cleanup. You feel heat radiating through every inch of your bare skin as you walk toward the bed, avoiding Joel's eyes and quickly slipping in beside him. You really don't know what you're doing - you'd said when you got here that you didn't want to do anything, not tonight, and it's still true. But part of you just aches to be close to Joel, to feel his warm heat, his rough skin, be connected to him somehow. It's what you've wanted all week.

You inch in beside him, back against the headboard, your bare thigh touching his lightly beneath the sheets, and you find yourself tensing up unconsciously. He clocks your reaction immediately.

"You don't gotta be nervous, angel," he tells you softly, soothingly.

You swallow and take a deep breath, "It's hard not to be," you whisper, though there's no reason to, "I'm just... I'm so..."

"What?" he asks, brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light. His hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb swiping beneath your eye again like he's checking for more tears - luckily you're feeling much better in that department.

You sigh, shrugging slightly, "I don't know what I'm doing," your eyes fall down to the duvet, knowing that if you pulled it back you'd see your bodies touching underneath, his rough and tan skin pressed against yours, soft and untouched, "I mean, I don't even know why I came tonight. I knew I didn't- that I didn't want to-" you sigh again in frustration, unable to find the right words, "I just... I missed you," your eyes travel back up to meet his, "I just wanted to be near you."

His expression softens, still stroking your cheek as he peers into your eyes, "You feel safe with me, don't you?" You nod. "You know I won't do anythin' you don't want me to do, right?" Another nod. "So it's okay to just relax when you're with me."

You grimace, "How can I relax when we're naked in bed together?"

He chuckles, dropping his hand from your face and shuffling down into the bed a bit, away from the headboard, "Okay, time for another lesson."

You feel your heart sink again, worried that he's not understanding - probably because you can't explain it right - but he smiles reassuringly at you and curls his finger slightly, urging you to follow him downwards. With a quiet inhale you slowly inch away from the headboard and further down into the bed, beneath the duvet. You both stop moving when your heads hit the pillows, laying down fully beside each other.

"Gettin' naked doesn't always mean there has to be sex," he says softly, and you watch as he very slowly brings his hand down beneath the duvet; you know where it's going before it touches you, but you still shiver when you feel his fingers brush lightly against your bare arm, "Us bein' naked in bed together doesn't mean anythin' has to happen."

"But earlier today I said..." you trail off, shaking your head, "I promised that-"

"Earlier is earlier," he brushes your arm again, tender and comforting, "Circumstances change, your day got shitty. Mine was no better. It happens."

His hand travels downward, toward the skin of your hip. He curls his palm around your bare flesh and gently massages it, thumb stroking the edge of your tummy. It's intimate and new, but somehow it feels more safe and comforting than sexual, like he's simply doing something casual, normal.

"Sometimes you just wanna lay in bed with someone" he murmurs, still touching you tenderly, "No expectations, no pressure. No nothin'. Sure, it's fun to touch each other and be together like that, but if you just wanna sleep..." his fingertips brush your back gently, then press firmly into your skin as he pulls you a bit closer toward him, "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."

You're not sure what to think, staring at him with a million different thoughts flooding your mind. Your interpretation of what men want has always been a bit of a grey area, but you've heard enough from both your family and your friends to know that most of them are just after one thing. You'd heard it from your parents your whole life who always warned about non-Christian boys and their sinful thoughts, then from the girls at college who dealt with disrespect and catcalls, men who turned on them in an instant the second they realized they weren't getting any.

Joel isn't like that. Sure, he wants sex - that's been obvious since day one, when he'd invited you inside his house within minutes of meeting you. He'd only had one thing on his mind, just like your parents had always said. But he hadn't thrown a fit when you'd said no, and up until this point he's made it abundantly clear that the ball is in your court, that it's up to you what happens between the two of you.

"I know all this stuff can be scary," he continues softly when you don't reply, "I know you're embarrassed about bein' so inexperienced, but you don't need to be. I'm here to make it easier for you; I want you to be comfortable."

He nudges forward a bit and slowly begins to wrap his arms around you, warm and inviting. You let him, body going loose and comfortable in his grasp as you feel your eyes close; safe. You feel so safe.

"You're so warm," is all you can think to say, loving the way it feels to have his broad and hairy chest pressed up against your bare breasts, his big and strong arms winding around your smaller form.

He chuckles softly and you feel him press a gentle kiss to your cheek, beard scratching your skin in your favorite way. You bring your arms up and hug him back beneath the blankets, feeling your naked thighs press firmly against his. You're aware of his cock - it's hard not to be, not when it's pressed gently against the base of your tummy, soft against your skin - but he doesn't rub himself against you or do anything to initiate more than this, more than just being together like he'd said.

He really means it, you know he does.

"I can't wait to have sex with you," you hear yourself whisper in his ear; it sounds dirty but you don't mean it to be, "I just...I'm really glad it's gonna be you."

And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you.

--

You wake up the next morning to a firm and solid presence at your back, bare and warm and comfy. You're surprised you're awake before Joel's alarm, wondering what exactly woke you up in the first place - and then you feel it. Something wet and sticky against your lower back, something pulsing and twitching every so often against your skin.

Good morning.

He hadn't pressed his cock against you like this last night when you were cuddling, hadn't asked you to touch it or even acknowledged its presence. But sleeping Joel is an entirely different person, his big arms wrapped around you tightly, one splayed across your belly while the other holds your right breast, cups it like it's meant to fit there. He holds you in place firmly, breath at your neck, nose in your hair.

You're not sure how much time you have left before his alarm goes off. The sun is only barely starting to come up outside the window, so it could start ringing at any time now. All you know is that the sensation of having him so close to you like this, his most intimate part so close to yours, so wet and warm, it's making you all wet and warm. Your skin almost feels itchy, especially at your neck where his warm breath leaves a damp spot beneath your ear, a spot you're suddenly longing for him to kiss, to lick.

"Joel," you breathe, unable to wait any longer, scared that at any moment he'll have to leave the bed and start getting ready for work.

No response.

"Joel," you repeat, a bit louder this time, and with his name you carefully grind back against him a little bit, the wet head of his cock trailing back and forth against your warm skin. He makes a grumbling noise in his chest, pulls you in a bit closer, "Joel, wake up," you moan, painfully aware of the shape of his balls against your ass, big and heavy and suddenly the hottest thing you've ever felt in your life.

"What?" he groans, rousing from sleep, "What is it?"

It's all the confirmation of awareness you need to suddenly turn in the sheets, bring the duvet down to expose your naked bodies to the both of you. His eyes are bleary and tired as he watches you from beneath heavy eyelids, sees where your gaze has settled.

His cock lays long and thick and loose against his tummy, round tip drooling precum into the hair smattered above his belly button. God, he's so big. Your lips part, saliva filling your mouth like it had the last time you saw it, like somehow your body knows exactly what the next step is.

"I wanna put my mouth on it," you whisper, pushing your hair back behind your ears and turning your gaze back to Joel's face, "Please."

His eyebrows go up in surprise, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. He's probably wondering where this is coming from, how the girl in his bed right now is the same one who just wanted to be held last night, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. He nods quickly, stretches his arms above his head and tries to rouse himself even more from sleep.

"Of course you can, baby," he mutters huskily, voice deep and dripping with arousal, "Go ahead."

"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong," you murmur softly, and before you can even fully process what you're doing or question if you'll even be good at it, your lips are pressing against the warm heat of his wet tip.

He hisses immediately and you pull back, frightened for a moment that you've already fucked up somehow. He shakes his head quickly at you, "No, no, you're good baby, that's good," one of his hands comes down to settle against the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, "Give it a kiss, just like that."

And you do. Time is already not on your side - you feel like there's a countdown clock hanging over your head as you press another kiss in the same spot, his precum sticky on your lips. You'd thought it might be gross, had heard lots about blowjobs from your friends and how unpleasant they can be, but when your tongue darts out to carefully prod against where he's leaking, you find that it doesn't bother you that much at all.

"Tastes funny," you murmur softly, peppering a few more kisses around the wide head and then down to his shaft, thumbing the prominent vein on the underside as you do it.

"Kinda gross, huh?" you hear him say softly above you, a strained edge to his voice that makes you smile against him.

"I think I like it, actually," you admit softly, tongue darting out once again to slowly lap up a bead at the tip. You're not lying; there's something masculine and sexy and inherently Joel about it, something you hadn't been expecting.

"That's good, sweetheart," he murmurs, stroking the back of your head gently, "That's so good, angel." You don't know whether he means your opinion on the taste or simply a reaction to the things you're doing with your tongue, but either way you keep going, hoping that the alarm doesn't interrupt you.

You wrap your lips around the tip carefully, pulling it into your mouth and sucking it gently - very gently. He makes a breathless sound above you and you can't help but bring your gaze up to his face, your eyes meeting his as you swallow him down.

"That's it, that's a good girl," he breathes, thumbing a strand of hair at your temple and pushing it behind your ear, eyes dark, "Look at you."

You swirl your tongue around the tip, still making sure to keep eye contact with him as you carefully slip more of him inside your mouth. He's so big, there's absolutely no way you'll be able to fit all of him inside, at least not without some practice. He doesn't seem to mind that you can only take a little bit of him, his thumb coming downward to stroke gently at the corner of your mouth. He wipes away a bit of drool pooling there, brows furrowing.

"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, nodding slowly to you in reassurance as you very slowly begin to lift your head up and down, up and down, eyes going hazy, "Takin' that cock so well."

His words spur you on, encourage you to take a little bit more. You've got about half of him in your mouth and you already know you won't be able to take anymore, the spongey tip pushing dangerously close to your gag reflex. You absolutely do not want to choke, don't want to ruin this in any way. You want him to feel good. Feel better.

"Oh, honey," he groans softly when you begin to palm his balls, rolling them gently and feeling their fullness, round and heavy, "This mouth," he touches the corner of your lips again, a bit harder this time, trails his fingers downward to grip your chin, "Made to have my cock in there, huh?" his eyes are boring into yours, pupils blown wide, "You like havin' your mouth full like that, babygirl?"

You nod and whimper around his length, speeding up a little bit and never breaking eye contact with him, obsessed with watching his eyes get darker and darker, filling more and more with lust as he watches you pleasure him.

"Yeah, you do," he murmurs, voice soothing again like last night, calm and safe, "What a good girl you are, wakin' me up to suck my cock. Couldn't wait, could ya, baby?" you shake your head and the head of his cock slips past your throat a little too far, so much that you have to pull off him quickly to be sure you don't gag, "Aw, baby, that's okay," he reassures you gently, "It's a lot, I know."

Your eyes are hooded and your jaw is already starting to ache - you're not used to doing something like this and he knows it, strokes your cheek gently as he takes his cock in his hand and carefully pushes the tip against your lips.

"You just kiss it, baby," he whispers, dark and deep, "Kiss that cock 'til I come, okay?"

You do as you're told, lips parting slightly as he rubs the head of his cock against your lips and strokes himself a few more times, bringing himself close to the edge. He's so gorgeous like this, so rugged and almost animalistic as his chest heaves, groans escaping his mouth as he watches your lips. His hand is still in your hair, grip getting tighter and tighter as you lean down a bit so he can gently fuck the tip of his cock back into your mouth. Your eyes close involuntarily and you can feel your pussy throbbing against the mattress with every thrust, lips tight around him.

"Ah, fuck," he grits out suddenly, then pulls his cock away from your mouth and releases all over his chest and stomach, thighs tensing up as you watch his eyes practically roll back into his head. Your eyes are wide and attentive, locked onto the white ropes of come that spurt against his bare skin. You find yourself wondering what it would feel like at the back of your throat instead, on your tongue, what it would taste like...

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joel's alarm going off, loud and obnoxious. Before he can pull himself up to turn it off, you lean over to the nightstand and do it yourself, swiping it off and turning back to his blissed out form. He lies there panting for a moment, eyes closed. You can't help but smile, feeling pride swell in your chest again at the knowledge that you made him feel like this.

"Don't go back to sleep," you whisper softly, "You gotta go to work."

He groans then, but opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile and a wink, expression still sleepy and satisfied, "Who needs an alarm clock when I got you, huh?" He gestures with his finger for you to move closer and you do, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, "Mornin', darlin'," he murmurs against your mouth.

"Morning," you whisper back, and you revel in the smile on his face when you pull away, "Sorry for jumping your bones so early."

He just shakes his head with a wide smile, "Never apologize for jumpin' my bones, baby." His eyes fall to your naked body, settling on your pussy, still wet and aching against the sheets, "Aw, sweetheart, lemme take care of that for you."

You shake your head, pointing to his phone, "We don't have time, you gotta get to work and I gotta get home before my parents wake up," you slip out of bed and reach down to pick up the clothes you'd stripped yourself of last night before your shower. He starts to protest but you put your hand up with a soft laugh, "It's okay, Joel. I wanted to do this for you, start your day out right. Give you a chance at a good day."

He peers up at you from the bed, face smooshed into the pillow as he watches you get dressed, "Doesn't seem fair."

You just roll your eyes, pulling on your panties and shorts and pointing to his phone again, "Really, we need to hurry," you bite your lip as you slip your t-shirt over your head, "I have keys this time but I still don't wanna risk it."

"Okay, okay," he grumbles softly, "I'm goin'."

He slips out of bed and stretches, tilting his body back and forth. You both hear the way his bones crack, the noise that emits from his throat when he bends his back a certain way. You watch his expression change, going from content and sated to embarrassed and grumpy in seconds.

"And just like that, the illusion is gone," he mutters to himself, limping away from the bed and toward the door without so much as a side glance to you, clearly upset by the sudden reminder of his age. You frown, watching him go and feeling an ache in your chest that makes a home there for the rest of the morning.

--

He'd made you breakfast last time, so it's only fair that you make something for him today. Unfortunately cooking has never been your forte, so about fifteen minutes later you're waving a dish rag at the fire alarm while the sausages you'd managed to burn are smoking in the sink. Joel comes running down the stairs after his shower with a look of concern on his face, only for it to fade into one of amusement when he sees the situation.

"Now why am I teachin' you guitar when you clearly don't know how to even use a stove?"

"Oh, shut up," you can't even pretend to be mad at him, grin spreading across your face as you shake your head and breathe a sigh of relief when the alarm stops going off, "Help me clean this up."

You end up making toast instead.

"You know, we've still got about ten minutes," he says across from you at the table as you eat, peering down at his watch quickly.

"Yeah, 'cause I fail as a cook," you mutter, making a face at your slice of toast, "I was gonna do eggs too, you know."

"Let's not reach for the stars too quickly now," he says with a sly smile, putting his hand up quickly when you prepare to retort, "Anyway, that's not what I meant."

"What did you-" you look up from your toast and see him beckoning you toward him again like he had last night, finger curling toward himself with a sly smile on his face.

You look at the clock on the oven, biting your lip.

"It'll take five minutes tops," he says, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

"Really?" you challenge, "Five minutes?"

"Five minutes."

That, you'd like to see. Dropping your toast back onto the plate, you stand up and walk to the other side of the table, unsure what exactly he wants you to do. He spreads his legs a bit, points to his thigh.

"Sit here, babygirl," he says, voice low and hypnotic, "Wanna show you somethin' new."

Yes please.

You situate yourself on his lap, one leg going between his thighs while the other dangles carefully off the other side of the chair. He pulls you down, big hands coming up to palm your hips and hold you there firmly. You swallow tightly, unsure exactly what he has in mind.

"You know what feels really good?" he murmurs, thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin between your shirt and your shorts.

"What?" you whisper, peering down into his eyes with intrigue.

"This," he says softly, then very slowly begins to move your hips, dragging you carefully back and forth along his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, lips parting as you feel the ache in your core immediately return, the pressure of his thigh and the movement of his hands setting your nerves alight.

He looks down at his own handiwork, watches as he moves you back and forth, back and forth, rocking you over and over again until you're whimpering in his lap, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He just smiles up at you, doesn't stop his movements.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he breathes, watching your expression closely, "Feels good to finally have somethin' touchin' that pussy, huh baby?"

You moan at his words, hands slipping from his shoulders to wrap around him as you lean forward to bury your face in his neck. He just starts to move you faster, chuckling softly to himself when your hips buck against him. It's amazing how such a simple action can feel so fucking good, the constant stimulation against your clit through layers of material making you writhe and whimper.

He removes one of his hands from your hips and slips it inside the leg of your shorts, fingertips tickling your inner thigh gently. You grapple onto him even tighter, hugging him like a koala as his thumb slowly begins to stroke you through the wet spot of your panties.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this pussy yesterday," he murmurs, thumb rubbing your clit over and over in little circles, "Those pictures were so filthy, baby."

You moan against his shoulder, gripping him tighter as his thumb begins to pick up speed. He presses a kiss to your neck, wet and hot; it makes your eyes roll back.

"And this little hole," he murmurs in your ear, suddenly adding a finger inside your shorts to circle your entrance slowly, "Kept thinkin' about this tiny little hole, all open for me."

God, when he talks like that you can't even fucking think, brain running on autopilot as he pulls you impossibly closer and lets you bare down on his thigh, his finger and thumb trapped under your weight, pressed firmly against your core.

"Who's gonna fill up that hole, babygirl?" he whispers in your ear, soft and secret, "Huh? Who's that hole belong to?"

"You," you whimper into his shoulder, eyes shut tight as he strokes his finger up and down through the fabric, adding even more pressure to the overwhelming sensations you're already feeling "It's yours, Mr. Miller."

"And what's gonna go inside it, sweetheart?"

"Hnhng," you can't speak, inhaling shakily as Joel's other hand presses harder against your hip and continues to guide you, fucking you back and forth against his thigh. He just watches you, eyes dark, lips parted, brow furrowed.

"Words, babygirl," he reminds you softly, "Use your words. What's gonna go inside that tight little hole? Huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock."

"That's right," he murmurs, the tip of his finger prodding inside you gently, taking the damp material of your panties with it, "Gonna fill you up so deep with my cock, honey. You're gonna feel it right here," he moves his hand up and places it at the base of your belly, pushes against it softly, "Gonna be so big inside you, sweet girl."

Oh fuck.

"I want it so bad," you groan, wrapping your arms even tighter around him, "I need it Mr. Miller."

"You do need it," he agrees softly as he kisses the top of your head, bringing his hand back down from your belly to guide you again, moving you back and forth "Need to be fucked so bad, don't you baby? Til you can't even think straight."

You nod frantically, continuing to grind yourself down against his thigh over and over and over, "Please," you whimper, almost a squeak, "Please, Mr. Miller."

"Shh," he soothes, pulling you in closer and moving your hips against him, looking at you with those big brown eyes full of lust and safety, "I will, babygirl. Soon. I'll fuck you so good, honey. I promise." Your body hitches in his lap as you near the edge, eyes going wide and mouth popping open as your orgasm starts to hit you, "Yeah? You like thinkin' about that, huh? Me fuckin' this soaked little pussy into my mattress? Fillin' you up so deep you can feel me in your stomach?"

You can't hold on anymore, eyes shutting tight and high pitched whimpers flowing past your lips as you start to come. He pins you against his thigh, holds you there tight and firm as your pussy pulses and throbs through his pants. You lean forward to bury your face in his neck as you ride it out, feel his hand press against your back.

"Oh, good girl, that's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple gently and stroking your back in little circles, "Come all over my lap, sweetheart. Show me how wet she can get, there you go. Good girl."

After a moment of catching your breath and willing yourself to pull your face away from his neck, you both bring your attention to the clock on the stove - five minutes have passed.

"Told ya," he murmurs, pulling you into one more hug, hitching his chin over your shoulder and rubbing your back gently as your head lolls against him.

You're too blissed out to tease him back.

--

The arrivals gate isn't as busy as you'd expected, thankfully. You lean against your car a few hours later, still reeling from your morning with Joel as you wait for Tasha to show up. You'd told him about your weekend plans before you'd left, insisting that despite spending time with Tasha you'd still be attending your Saturday lesson.

"Can't wait," he'd murmured to you, low and deep in your ear after giving you one final kiss at the door, "Got somethin' real special planned, babygirl."

You'd practically melted down his front steps.

"THERE'S MY FAVORITE SLUT!!" you suddenly hear someone shout, and you look up to see Tasha at the sliding doors, bags dropping to the ground as she sprints at you head on and collides with you seconds later, wrapping her arms around you tightly.

She's just the same as she was the last time you saw her, high spirited and excitable and sweet, practically vibrating in your arms with joy. Only she could rock a bright purple cowboy hat and sweatpants, not to mention the lime green flip flops.

"Oh my god," you gasp in her ear, hugging her back and spinning on the spot, "You're insane."

"I'M EXCITED!" she squeals, pulling away from you and clapping her hands together, "We're going out tonight!!! Together!!! For the first time ever!" She brings her hands up and places one on either side of your face, lips turning down into a pout, "My baby bird is leaving the nest," she sighs dreamily, shaking her head, "I never thought this day would come."

"Please get in the car," you laugh, popping the trunk and gesturing to her bags, "before I change my mind and send you back."

--

You give Tasha the complete run-down on Joel as you get ready at the Airbnb, updating her on everything that's happened since you'd last checked in. It feels so good to actually talk about it, not text or simply mull it over and over in your head. She gasps at all the right spots, makes ridiculous faces in the mirror as she curls her hair, nearly drops the curling iron on the floor when you tell her about this morning.

"AND YOU LIKED HOW IT TASTED?" she practically screams, running out of the room and then running back in like she has no idea what to do with herself, "Oh my god, you are down bad. Jesus Christ," she makes a face, "Sorry, I mean- uh, fuck."

"Tasha," you roll your eyes, "You can say Jesus Christ."

"I can?" her eyes widen and she sighs in relief, picking up the curling iron from the floor, "Thank god."

You're going clubbing tonight for the very first time; a night of dancing and cocktails and flirting and living out all the college dreams you still have yet to experience. You're a bit tentative about the flirting part though, a concept that floors Tasha immediately.

"You can't go clubbing and not flirt," she says with faux shock, spinning in front of you as she assesses her dress in the mirror, "It's the best part!"

"I have a-" you cut yourself off, making a face at your reflection.

"You do not have a boyfriend," Tasha says immediately, "There has been no definition, babe. You need to keep reminding yourself of that."

"But it's not just fucking," you argue with a grimace, "I mean, it's not even fucking at all, we still haven't taken that step yet."

"I know, I just don't want you to get your heart hurt, honey," she frowns, leaning toward the mirror and applying some lipstick, "Boys are mean."

"Well, Joel's not a boy," you say quietly, fingering the hem of your own dress, a short and cute pink number that Tasha had brought specifically for you to wear, "He's a man."

"Mmhm, so you keep telling me," she raises an eyebrow, "I think I need to see this man for myself. Give you my honest opinion, see if he's really this gorgeous, perfect hunk you make him out to be."

You bite your lip, trying not to smile as you think back to this morning, how he'd looked in the early morning light, naked and sleepy and beautiful. And all yours.

"He is," you murmur softly.

--

You're supposed to be going clubbing, supposed to be out dancing and drinking cocktails and living out all your college dreams for once in your life. But where are you instead?

"O'Neil's!!" Tasha says excitedly, pointing to the red neon sign outside the bar you've just arrived at, throwing you a shit-eating grin that just makes you playfully roll your eyes.

You never should have told her the name of the bar Joel frequents, because she's now made it her mission to find him, get a good look at him and judge for herself if he's really all you're making him out to be. It's your own fault, you suppose, considering that you don't have any pictures of him or any frame of reference to articulate exactly the way he looks. For Tasha he's shrouded in mystery, but not for much longer.

Your ears are already ringing when you get inside the bar, the chatter and buzz of other people's conversations flooding your thoughts. You're not used to being out like this, being around drunk people or high people or literally anyone whose ideal night out is spending time at a bar. It's nerve-wracking and you instantly feel like a fish out of water, gripping onto Tasha's arm after showing your ID to a man who ogled both of you way more than he needed to.

"So this is where he hangs out," Tasha says, assessing her surroundings and leading you towards the bar where most people seem to be gathered, "Quaint. Little divey. Definitely not for our crowd but hey, we're learning new things tonight." She taps the counter and tilts her head toward the bartender with a smile, "Watcha got on tap?"

You wrinkle your nose, "I thought we'd be having cocktails."

"Oh we will at the club, don't you worry. But if we want the authentic dive bar experience, beer is necessary," the bartender lists the options and Tasha orders, though you barely hear what either of them are saying over the loud music and conversations. Your eyes scan the bar for any sign of Joel, but people are packed so tightly in here that it's hard to really see anybody, faces and bodies melding together.

The bartender hands Tasha the drinks and she throws him a wink, "Thank you, darling."

You envy how easily she navigates a situation like this, so natural and graceful despite her surroundings that are anything but. She hands your beer to you with a smile and holds hers up in front of her, tilting it toward yours until they clink.

"To you finally coming out with me," she toasts with a grin, "It's about damn time."

You smile back and take a sip, trying your hardest not to wince at the bitter flavor. It's not like you've never tried alcohol before, you just already know that you hate beer.

"Delicious," you lie, and Tasha just laughs and gestures toward a suddenly empty booth in the corner of the room.

"Let's sit there while we suss him out," she mutters to you, pulling you along with her and slipping inside, "Now, what's he look like? You've been pretty vague about those details." She waggles her eyebrows, "Be honest, is he bald?"

You almost spit out your second sip, shaking your head furiously, "No, he's not bald. Full head of hair."

She puts her hands up in defense, "Hey, it's not that crazy to assume!"

You just shake your head and laugh, turning back toward the bar and the people and trying to get a gage on where he might be. You know he usually comes here with his contracting crew, but what the hell does a contracting crew even look like?

"Help me out, gimme a description!" Tasha says eagerly, wiggling in her seat a bit and following your gaze, "He has facial hair, right?"

"Yes, it's kinda messy and scruffy," you bite your lip, squinting a bit as if that'll help you.

"And what's his hair color?"

You don't look at her as you reply, "Um.. grey."

Tasha's hand slaps down on the table and you jump, eyes going wide as you turn back to her, "What?"

"Grey? Girl, how old is he?" she doesn't sound angry or judgmental - she sounds intrigued. And almost... impressed? You gnaw on your lip, scrunching your eyebrows together as you look back toward the crowd of people.

"Um... he's..." you stop short, freezing when your eyes land on a familiar shirt near the bar, a red and black plaid button down that you'd seen only hours ago, "There! He's there!" You point at him quickly, ducking your head a bit and motioning for Tasha to lean in closer to get a good look.

"Oh... my god," she breathes, and you feel a rush of pride at her response, unable to stop the grin from plastering itself to your face as you peer at him.

There's something different about him that you can't place - maybe it's just because you haven't seen him in a public place like this, aren't used to what he looks like when it's not just the two of you. You try to put your finger on it, and while you're doing so he does something that makes your heart positively swell in your chest.

He smiles. That beautiful crooked smile that pulled you in the day you met him, set your skin on fire and brought you to the point of no return. Those crinkly eyes, the grey in his beard, the softness of his eyes, they send that familiar feeling of safety rushing through your bones. And you realize there's nothing different about him at all. That's your Joel, sitting on a bar stool after a long day of work, nursing a glass of whisky and chatting about his day. He's the same Joel who you'd woken up with this morning, just in a different setting.

You're so distracted by his rugged beauty out in the open like this - overwhelmed by his charm and his smile - that it takes you a few seconds to see who exactly he's smiling at.

You feel your heart in your throat.

There's a woman sitting beside him. Not just beside him, but so close their stools are touching, so close her legs - long and lean and beautiful - are brushing his. It's not subtle the way her ankle moves against his calf, up and down, up and down. She's wearing jean shorts and a halter top, skin dark and gorgeous and exposed in all the right places, beautiful brown braids cascading down her back and shoulders. You can't see her face but you already know she could be a model. She probably is.

No. No, something isn't right.

Maybe it's not him.

Time feels like it's frozen, like everyone in the bar has stopped moving except the two of them, like a giant spotlight is shining directly on where they sit, where they touch, where they smile at each other. Because it is him. It's him in all his gorgeous Joel glory, peering into the eyes of a woman who isn't you, a woman who's probably more his type, closer to his age, a woman who's somehow making him smile like that when she shouldn't. That's how he smiles at you. That's your smile.

A woman who's now leaning in for a kiss.

No. Please no.

A woman who he kisses back.

This isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just some sick and twisted nightmare you're about to wake up from at any second.

His hand comes up to cup her face.

"I'm gonna throw up," is all you manage to gasp out to Tasha as you yank yourself from the booth and sprint out of the bar, hand splaying across your belly as you bend over and release the contents of your stomach all over the sidewalk.

You feel Tasha's hand on your back, pulling your hair behind your ears. She's saying something but you don't understand it, ears continuing to ring despite being outside in the cool air, away from the loud music and chatty conversations, away from them.

"Oh honey," you finally hear her say, soft and kind as she rubs circles into your back, a comforting action that brings no comfort to you, not now, not after what you've just seen. "I'm so sorry."

[beeandheroddobsessions]

Drop It!

Warnings: Supernatural elements. Dead!Elvis. Reader’s father is dead. Reader denotes elvis to his face. Dilapidated Graceland.

Summary: It’s move-in day! Reader spends the day fixing up the house. By the end of the night, she just wants to relax but something, or someone, needs to talk to her.

A/N: I am fully aware that graceland is cared for and not at all in ruin but the story calls for it. I put a lot of thought into this series and i really want everyone to enjoy it! The story is inspired by my house and what it’s like living here. though i’ve never come face to face with my goulish friends, i do respect them. A small bit, while comical, is something i actually did experience. Granted, i never spoke to anyone, or at least, never got an audible response. Most of this series includes odd happenings that i’ve dealt with. Isn’t that fun? Non-beliver or not, i hope you enjoy it. Happy reading- Bee💕

September 2023

The keys resting in your palms bring nothing but joy, even after dealing with a snippy mother and grumbling movers on an overcast Thursday afternoon. It should've been alarming, the way that realtor hightailed it off the property, but you were just glad to get your hands on what once was a beautiful home.

Graceland had nearly fallen to ruin; once the previous owner's legacy began to deteriorate, so did respect for the house. Squatters, Drug dealers, vandals, this house has seen it all. Yet, under all that muck and destruction, you saw a chance to restore its beauty.

Your mother was a bit...perturbed by the decision, wondering what she had done in your childhood that could've led to this point. When the idea was first pitched, she laughed it off, assuming it was another one of your odd bouts, like it was some fairytale. So imagine her surprise when you tossed the paperwork onto the breakfast table.

Your mother's concerns only doubled when she actually saw the house. Move-in day is supposed to be exciting, and for you, it is. Pushing past the doors into your new home is something magical. You don't know where to start. The kitchen? The front room? Upstairs? It's all so tempting.

"Mama, this place, it's so beautiful. Doesn't it jus' make you wanna cry?" You exclaim, unable to contain the excitement rushing through your body.

"...That's...well, that's one way to put it." your mother says, watching for possible loose beams as you traverse through the house.

You kiss your teeth at her tone and begin rattling on about your ideas for the space.

"I can fix her up in no time. We can start with the walls; they only need a few patches and a fresh coat a' paint. Oh! And then we can work on the floors. And I'm sure we can find some replicas or have 'em made. I think-"

"Y/n!" your mother interrupts, "Rome wasn't built in a day, baby. Don't get too ahead of yourself. You already broke the bank buyin' this...place and-"

You shake your head "Mama, don't you know who used to live here? Daddy woulda-"

The older woman before you holds up her hand, face dropping into an unamused expression. "Don't compare me to your daddy; we never did have the same tastes. And of course, I know; Elvis was my crush before you were even thought of."

You tilt your head, shifting to move a box. "But you just said you n' daddy didn’t have the same-"

She cuts you off before you can finish your thought. "Hush up and listen to your mama." A chuckle leaves your mouth as she scolds you.

"After all this time, daddy still can't catch a break?"

Your mother lets out a saddened sigh, "Well, he may not be here physically, but pokin' fun at him is the only way I know he's still around."

Your shoulders drop, and you set the box down. Your father passed away six years ago; he didn't want his family knowing he was sick. You thought it was a cruel joke, some twisted prank set to traumatize you forever. The wails your mother let out that night on the kitchen floor told you otherwise. She tries to pretend but hasn't been the same since—the idea of remarrying tossed to the wind like a dandelion's pappi.

"Mama, don't you think daddy would've wanted you to let him go?" you lament, hoping your mother would consider it this time. But, alas, the notion is shot down once again.

"You may not believe in ghosts or the afterlife, y/n, but I do. Your daddy is always with me. It wouldn't be right to get hitched in his face."

You shrug and continue unpacking, "If you say so mama, I jus couldn't imagine stickin' it out till the very end." That statement seems to tickle your mama pink. "You ain't never been in love, sugar pie. When you meet your mister right, you'll know what I mean."

You purse your lips. Even while talking about her dead husband, she hints at your sad love life. To you, love is just a feeling, and the dead are just that, dead. So your mother's musings about 'ghosts' and 'true loves' are nothing short of fantasy in your world.

"O...kay. Well, we've got a lot to do, and we've been talkin' bout nothin' for ten whole minutes. Let's hop to it!"

Your mother rolls her eyes, "This ain't my dream house, honey. I ain't GOT to do nothin' but stay black and die."

"Oh, here you go with that mess. You agreed to help your only baby move in so that I wouldn't 'die in my sleep cause some spider decided to munch on me,' so don't give me none of that." You mock.

Your mother pops your arm and grabs a broom. "You yo' daddy's daughter, alright. Couldn't have got that mouth from me." She mutters.

For the next four hours, the two of you dispose of odd findings, scrub, wash, disinfect, and grumble through the house. By the time you finish, the home is as clean as clean gets. The sun has set, and all you want to do is eat and sleep. The last thing to set up is the bedroom.

You feel a little strange sleeping in a room that once belonged to such a legend, but he isn't here, and the house belongs to you. The wall of TVs would be dealt with later. For now, a flatscreen was simply placed in front of them; aside from that, you pre-ordered replicas of the bedroom furniture, not wanting to personalize too much.

After kissing your mother goodbye, you trudge up the stairs, stopping halfway to crack your back. Once you return to the master suite, flopping on the bed only seems fitting. A groan escapes you as you realize you still need to shower. Rolling over, you grab a towel from your suitcase, lay out some pajamas on the center of the bed, and head for the bathroom.

While waiting for the water to warm, perched on the porcelain throne, the lights flicker. You'll need to replace the bulbs later; simple fix.

When the water reaches hell, you waste no time jumping in. It soothes your aching body, and all of the tension from today washes down the drain. You hum a nonsensical tune to keep you entertained while you clean away the dirt and grime. In the middle of the improvised song, a crash steals your attention.

You finish rinsing and shut off the water, quickly making your way to the bedroom door. You aren't going to investigate; too bright (or too experienced in the horror genre) to even give that a thought. No, you lock the door and mind your business; that is a morning problem.

When you turn back to retrieve your nightwear, you find them on a chair in the corner of the room. Odd. You could've sworn you left them in the middle of the bed. Whatever, you think as you throw them on.

Plopping down on the edge of the bed, you grab the remote and turn the TV on—finally, a moment of peace. You flick through Netflix, desperate to find good background noise. Landing on your favorite show, 'The Good Place,' is enough for you. It's ironic, don't believe in anything after death, or love, and here you are, watching two dead people fall in love.

Halfway through Episode six, the source of entertainment shuts off. You huff; it was getting good too. The remote is behind you, out of reach, so you aren't exactly sure what could've caused this.

"Probably just a glitch," you mumble, turning the TV back on and resuming your minor addiction. This time, you place the remote on the dresser, ensuring no interruptions.

Despite your effort, it happens again; A guttural noise leaves your body. You're broke in a house that's falling apart with no man, pets, and no energy. TV is the one pleasure you have left, and even that is beginning to frustrate you.

Repeating the process, you hold the remote in your hands, eyebrows raised, daring your peace to try and leave again. After a few moments, you sigh in relief as the halfway point passes and set the remote down. As soon as it comes in contact with the plush, black comforter, the TV again fails you.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." You exclaim.

"Ladies shouldn't swear; ain't attractive." A voice bellows from behind you. A shrill shriek is all that is heard as you scramble off the bed. Your eyes search for the source but find nothing. Slowly, you creep toward the bed and snatch up the remote. "Can't go downstairs till morning, and I'm losin' it in here. What a night." You whisper.

A shiver rolls through your body, and you decide it's better to sit on the floor. Again you try with your tv (which you will be returning in the morning), and of course, that doesn't last long.

"Sugarpie, I don't wanna see that junk. If you're gon' watch somethin' in my bed, I suggest it be somethin' good. Not some trash show that don't know the first thing bout bein' dead." The strange voice booms again.

This time when you jump out of your skin and turn to face the intruder, you see what you can only assume to be the world's most accurate Elvis impersonator.

"What the hell are you doin' in my house?!" You screech, "Get out! Get the hell out."

The man before you is nowhere near ready for the projectiles flying his way. Clothes, shoes, books, and a stuffed bear. You name it; it's flying at his head.

"Hey! I—I said—, goddamn! You got an arm on ya! Put the—,"

Elvis can't even finish his sentence as you continue to fling whatever you can at him.

"Get. Out. Of. My. House!" You grunt, each word punctuated with the throw of an object. The tall, blue-eyed stranger ducks and dodges with precision, but when he sees you getting ready to toss a picture frame, one you no doubt failed to realize the importance of in your defensive state, the fun and games stop.

"Drop it! Drop that damn picture right now! Your mama would tan your hide for days if she saw that you broke that frame." Elvis booms.

Your chest is heaving, and you blink, glancing over at the photo.

"S'your daddy, right? Y'all were talkin' in the kitchen bout how it's the last thing he gave ya. You promised ta take care of it. So drop it."

You nod and gently place the photo on the bed, reaching for a good substitute.

"Jus—Just how long have you been here?" you question, ready to launch the lamp in your hand. Elvis ponders for a moment. "What year is it?" He asks, seeming genuine. You quirk an eyebrow, unamused with the game he's playing. "You can't be serious."

He looks at you expectantly, waiting for an actual answer. Your phone is across the room, and the chances of getting past this psycho-wannabe Elvis are slim to none. So, you entertain him. "It's twenty-twenty-three, you should know that." You say, face stoic.

Elvis's eyes widen, "Twenty- Good lord!" He chuckles in disbelief.

"Well, to answer your question lil' mama, if that's true, I've been here for sixty-six years if you're countin' when I bought the house."

You shake your head; there's no way the idiot in front of you is this dedicated. "Yeah, sure, I reckon you want me to believe you're Elvis Presley himself. Is that what this is? Some attempt to scare me?"

Elvis chuckles and shakes his head, "No, ma'am. Ain't no pretendin' round here. I'm the real deal."

You can't help the cackle that slips past your lips.

"My ass!"

Elvis's smirk fades, "I told ya that shit isn't cute. And if ya don't believe me, try to shake my hand." He says, extending the appendage forward.

You scrunch your nose, "Now, why would I do that?"

He shrugs, hand still held out.

"Well, I ain't goin' nowhere for a long time n' you're the first person to see or hear me in ages. Whether ya do or don't, it really ain't too concernin' for me."

You sigh, knowing this is how dumb girls in movies usually meet their end. Can't believe m'doin' this. Shakily, you extend your hand, and when it meets his, it goes right through. You gasp as the limb turns to smoke before materializing again.

"Sweet jesus," you sputter.

"I wouldn't know if he was sweet, I ain't met him yet." Elvis jokes. You back away, very spooked.

"T-This, this isn't possible. Ghosts they—they aren't-"

"Real?" Elvis cuts you off, "Yeah, I heard that part too, jus didn't wanna scare your mama, so I waited till it was jus you n' me."

You scoff, offended, "My mama gets a pass, and I don't?"

He chuckles and sits on the bed, "She believed, you didn't. For someone with a gift this great, ya sure do love ta act like ya don't know what she's talkin' about."

You fold your arms, looking down, "I don't have-"

"Oh, yes ya do. Don't give me none of that. I spent the whole afternoon chit-chattin' with your old man. "

Your head snaps up, eyes meeting his. "You spoke to my daddy? How is he? Did he ask bout mama? Because she'd be thrilled. I gave up. I knew I shouldn't have. I'd been tryin' to reach him since he died, but he never-" The smug look on Elvis's face shuts you up.

"Well, first off. Why would ya need to call a man who's in the same house as ya? Second, you'd been tryin' so hard to find happiness for a woman who don't need it, that ya pushed your daddy away anytime he tried. A ghost can only do so much without scarin' someone half to death, baby."

This is all too much; Ghosts exist, Elvis Presley is in front of you, and your daddy hasn't moved on. Mama was right. You lift the covers and shimmy under them.

"I need to sleep on this. Jus—I...I don't know where you go, but scram for the night please."

Elvis chuckles, nodding. In a flash, he evaporates, fumes left behind as he finds another room to settle in.

You breathe through your nose as you think. What a night indeed, miss y/n.

Taglist: @prayerstopresley @powerofelvis @re3kin

[nattinatalia]

Jack Harlow x Reader Instagram AU

Liked by yourusername, urbanwyatt, neelamthadhani, djdrama, and 9,677,345 others

jackharlow They say, “you a superstar now” damn, I guess I am.

View all 1,900 comments

yourusername Yes you are!!!!!!! ⭐️

yourusername Proud of you baby 🥹 sold out shows and everything, you deserve this and more. Continue taking over 🤞🏼🥳❤️

jackharlow I love you baby, thank you for sticking with me through it all.

yourusername Always, till the wheels fall off. Let’s get that out of the way, umm sirrrr that face on the second pic, I hope you were at least thinking about me 🤤

urbanwyatt What now????

yourusername He makes that face when he’s about to cum 🙈 🤤

claybornharlow WTF I didn’t need to know that.

yourusername We have 2 whole kids, how do you think they got here?????

claybornharlow I still don’t need to know the face my brother makes 🤮 now I can’t look at him

yourusername lmaaaooooo so is this a bad time to say we actually conceived little princess in your childhood bedroom?????

urbanwyatt OMFG 💀

druski2funnny 🤣🤣

claybornharlow WHAT THE FUCK ???? Jackman where the fuck are you at? You’re mighty quiet please tell me she’s just saying this to get me disgusted???

jackharlow Nope, bathroom too!!!!

yourusername 🤭🤭🤭🤭

claybornharlow I’m gonna tell mom you guys are nasty. How could you???? In my fucking room man??? Not cool 😩😩😩

jackharlow I’m pretty sure she knows since she washed your sheets the next day

urbanwyatt NAAAA YALL FOUL FOR THIS!!!

yourbestiename Baby, are you really talking???? When we’ve done worse.

urbanwyatt You’re right 😂😂😂😂

Liked by yourusername, jackharlow, urbanwyatt, yourbestiename, and 8,678,345 others

champagnepapi If I ever proposed I know you woulda said no just so you could have one up on me while I’m down on one knees.

View all 1,900 comments

yourbestiename DRAKEY POOH 🙈😍

urbanwyatt NO

yourbestiename Respectfully, no, no I wouldn’t. But then again, I would love to see you get on your knees, but that’s just me 🤷🏻‍♀️

champagnepapi 😳 📝

urbanwyatt BABE IM ABOUT TO SPANK YOUR ASS

yourbestiename Is that supposed to be a threat? Because it sounds more like a good time.

yourusername I have room for one more ring 💍 sooo I’ll probably say yes.

champagnepapi Jack is going to hate me

yourusername 🤫 He doesn’t need to know

jackharlow YOOOO BAABE NOOOO!!!

yourusername 🙈 We’ve been caught, y/bestie/name should we run away???

yourbestiename Only if Drake comes along.

champagnepapi 😂😂😂 The stories I’ve heard, y’all are wild and I’m cool with the one kid I have.

jackharlow My wife is a little freak 😋 and she also has a breeding kink, so I’ll keep her. Thanks.

urbanwyatt 🙄 You two play too damn much.

yourbestiename Stop telling people you’re down to have a hall pass then. Because if that’s the case, Drakey is ours!!!!!

jackharlow Ohhh so that’s what this is about 🙄

yourusername 🙈

champagnepapi If that’s the case then my dms are always open for you two ladies.

urbanwyatt Im about to block you from her phone.

jackharlow I will report your account. I better not see you in her dms. I love you but no!!!! Never gonna happen

yourbestiename YALL ARE BORING! All that talk for nothing.

Liked by jackharlow, yourbestiename, champagnepapi, maluma, badbunnypr, and 9,678,345 others

yourusername You got something I’m trying to experience.

View all 1,900 comments

jackharlow 🤤 lucky lucky me

yourusername Damn right 🤭

jackharlow Can you come upstairs real quick? While the kids are down for their nap.

yourusername No, you come down here 😉

jackharlow Shit, on my way! 🏃🏼 😛

claybornharlow YOU DO KNOW IM HERE RIGHT????

jackharlow Yea so?

claybornharlow WDYM SO?

jackharlow Either go outside or cover your ears.

claybornharlow WTF & IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM???? I’m out!!!!!!!!

champagnepapi 👀

jackharlow NO STAY BACK 🤺

@ yourusername added to her story

@ yourusername added to her story

@ jackharlow added to his story

TAG LIST

@heavyhitterheaux 💕

@harlowsbby 💕

@arination99 💕

@cmalass 💕

@jackharloww 💕

[joels6string]

More Than My Father's Son

Joel Miller x f!OC

Chapter 12 - My Brother Joel

Summary: Tommy and Joel head on the road for a doomed mission to find you in the Utah wilderness, dead, alive, or infected.

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.6k

Content: NSFW, high levels of violence normal to the TLOU world, angst, fluff, miscommunication trope (it’s Joel Miller…), slow burn, Joel’s traumatic childhood, getting together, smut, canon divergence after SLC, fix it fic

“Maybe you should have told her! Maybe if you didn’t fuckin’ lie to her she never woulda left! You ever imagine that, Joel? What your life could be like if you were honest for once? You’d be wakin’ up to her in your damn bed instead of being out here in mourning!”

Chapter 11 || Series Masterlist

My brother is many things. 

He’s played as many roles as there is, taking each one onto a pair of shoulders that should have buckled from the pressure years ago. I’ve seen him through the hardest days of his life. The high school graduation pop couldn’t be bothered to attend. The day he found out he was gonna be a daddy before he could legally drink a beer. He called me when Rebecca left him with nothing but a note, Sarah still tucked up in a crib alone in that shit-hole apartment he scrounged over three jobs to keep. He was crying that day, not for the loss of the woman he’d made his wife outta nothing but obligation,  but for the little blonde-haired girl nestled fast asleep against his chest. See, he didn’t think he could raise her. Said he wasn’t fit for it. But I knew better. He raised me, and I think I turned out all right. 

And raise her he did. That girl lived the best life he could give her, he didn’t care what it cost. He built a business, bought a house, nurtured a daughter that he swore could save the world one day, and I bet she would have. He never complained. Sure, about not having money sometimes, or losing jobs to the bigger guys, but he never wanted anything different, he didn’t wish for something else. 

When Sarah died, so did he. Who could blame him? I carried the guilt of leaving him in Boston from the moment I stepped outta that apartment. I just couldn’t watch him waste away. It was selfish, I know that. But seeing my brother–my goddamn hero–turn into everything he stood against wasn’t something I could do. I tried to pull him back, but the man’s more stubborn than a mule. So I just prayed he’d find his way back, not for me, but for himself. For Sarah. For the man I always knew he was and the one he deserved to be.

Then he shows up some decade and a half later, gray hair, wrinkles around his eyes, scarred like you wouldn’t believe. And damn if he didn’t feel like he’d taken some of himself back. He had Ellie, who I owe my life for what she did for him. I don’t think she knows the extent of that gratitude and I don’t plan to tell her, she don’t need that burden. He loves that girl like his own and so do I. That’s all that matters.

But then there’s her. Millie. All fire and sheer will, if she wasn’t on our side I’d be terrified of her. And god damn does he love that woman. He thinks I can’t tell, but I’ve been watching him practically my whole life, hell, tryin’ to be him, I know. Joel’s a man that would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it, but he aint’ one to share what goes on his head. That’s for him to deal with and no one else. He’s a locked box, walled up behind heavily guarded gates, always has been, but with her? It’s all right there on his sleeve for the world to see. Something tells me she knows more about him than most, and I don’t think he needed to speak a damn word for her to figure it out neither.

I don’t know what happened that night of the storm. At this point, I don’t know if I ever will. But something changed. 

I knew about Millie, what happened to her. Maria and I...we’d made the call to keep it from him as long as we could. He’d have run off, never to be seen again, I ain’t stupid. I didn’t know what to do. How do you tell someone who's been through hell enough times it shoulda killed him that his one good thing was gone? I couldn’t do it. Not after I’d seen him for the first time in over 20 years. He was smiling again. Strumming on a guitar. Writing songs. Hell, I had him sketching blueprints; he was Joel again. Maybe it was selfish. I wanted to prolong it, keep him around for as long as I could before the inevitable. 

And here we are. At the inevitable.

I might as well be riding through these trails alone. He’s silent, it’s like a god damn funeral march. But in reality I guess it is. I’ve contemplated turnin’ around, forcing him back to the life he’s gonna have to face living here eventually. But I can’t. See, the thing is that through all he’s lost, he’s never once gotten the chance to mourn. There was always something else. I think maybe he needs these quiet weeks on the road, and I’ll keep him alive while he’s out here, going through whatever it is he needs to go through. 

There’s no way we find her. It’s too much land, too many possibilities, it’s been too long; seven weeks by the time we get to the last place she was seen. For her sake I hope it was quick, and for his I hope it ain’t like Eugene said. If he’s gotta put a bullet in her head, even like that, I don’t see a path back. 

We’ve come across a few straggler infected, and his face breaks my heart every time. The fear he’ll see her snarling and deformed, I can’t take it anymore. The way his eyes beg for recognition to end the ache in his chest and for the chance to keep hope alive all the same. 

The way he kills them is damn near barbaric. Every swing of that blade an attempt to collect the debt he feels he’s owed. He’s still swinging long after they’re dead and gone, thankfully he’s smart enough to not waste our ammo. I pray we don’t come across any hunters on this trip. The runners I can watch be torn to shreds, I ain’t so sure I can watch him do that to a man again. I’ve had more than my share of that.

Everyday he’s closer to the god damn edge and I’m just waiting for him to fall. It’s bound to happen. Every night he sits by the fire sharpening that damn machete, sometimes gone dull from whatever poor unfortunate soul we encountered, other times he takes it out on a tree, an old rundown house, whatever he can find. I let him have at it, keeping an eye that the desperate crying he does when he thinks he’s alone doesn’t attract anyone or anything. It did once, shot it right between the eyes. I was proud of that one. 

We’re set to reach the last place she was seen today, I’m mentally gearing up. Reckon it won’t be pretty. I don’t know where it goes from there. I don’t know if I want to either. 

********

“I’m goin’ to look around,��� Joel announced before his boots even hit the cement of the old garage, the first words he’d spoken since a grunt of acknowledgement that morning.

“Joel,” Tommy called quickly, “I should come with you.”

“Stay with the horses.”

“Joel!”

But he was already gone. It was a calm, February night, the sky clear as the setting sun cast a hazy, gray light over the untouched snow. Untouched. Not a print in sight, not even a damn rabbit. He should have checked the houses, but something had told him it was useless. You weren’t here. You hadn’t been here in months. Months. The time that had lapsed between you vanishing without a trace and his arrival made him sick to his stomach. He should have been here. He should have stopped you from leaving. He should have fought. 

The sound of the rushing river marked the spot where your tracks had stopped. This was the last place you were known to have been. It felt like a fucking burial site. He couldn’t do anything in the dark, so he stood and watched the water run by, the force of it surprising for its lack of depth. Jagged rocks jut out of the white capping current, the barren skeletons of the trees reaching up to the heavens he could no longer believe in. 

As the sound lulled him into whatever semblance of tranquility he could find, he wondered how you made it across. It was too wide to jump and too fast to bridge with something as simple as a log, but the rocks could provide a path if traveled carefully. But you were sick. Coughing, a fever seizing up your already ice-cold body, you wouldn’t have the dexterity…

He took off in a sprint back to the house, slamming open the front door hard enough it had Tommy reaching for his gun from where he sat on the floor. 

“Jesus Christ. Joel!” Tommy scolded, throwing the shotgun back down with a heavy thud, “I coulda shot you.”

“Down the river,” Joel panted, lungs and throat burning, “Tracks stopped at the bank. It’s too fast. Down the river…”

With numb fingers, Tommy pulled out the map, tracing north until the river opened to a lake. It was miles away, but not more than a day's travel. 

“Tell me what you wanna do,” Tommy offered, “Straight shot to where it dumps off?”

“Yeah…” Joel muttered, his mind racing against the light of optimism threatening to banish the darkness of reality. 

“Alright then, first light. Sit and eat.”

It would be a miracle if you survived that trip, but it wasn’t impossible. He’d done it, sort of, and that was the catch. He’d had Henry to pull him out, you were alone. But maybe you’d maneuvered well enough to avoid crashing into a rock head first. Or maybe this was all just fucking delusion.

There was no chance of sleep, he just paced, muttering incoherently under his breath about the chance this worked. It was low, and he hated how hard it was to convince himself of that. Back in Jackson as he and Tommy had readied to leave, he saddled up your horse. At the time he’d said in case they found you, you’d be thrilled, you loved that damn animal. But in reality it was just one of the few pieces of you he had left. Bill would be his from now on, maybe he’d even try and replicate those ridiculous biscuits you insisted on making for him. 

“You sleep at all?” Tommy asked, still groggy as he lifted himself onto his elbows with a groan.

“A bit,” Joel lied, the barrel of his shotgun shining after two hours of polishing. 

“When’d you become so shit at lyin’?”

Probably when he lost it all because of it. 

“Let’s go,” Joel snapped, leaping to his feet and grabbing his pack already ready by the door, “Eat on the way.”

Hours turned into days, and on day three of ice cold conditions, searching through trees and caves, and too many close calls with frostbite, Tommy stepped in. An arm across Joel’s chest kept him upright as Tommy pinned him against an oak, his head shaking in denial and defiance as he deflected the reality staring him in the face. You were gone. There was no finding you, there was no closure, no last chance to count the freckles on your face or memorize the warm shade of your hair. There was nothing. Just snow and haunting silence beneath his brother’s sympathetic gaze.

“I know you loved her,” Tommy finally found the opening to say it, “And maybe if you admitted that it would help you…move on.”

“Move on!?” Joel roared, finding the strength to shove his brother off of him, “Move on from what? What the hell do I have to move on from? Huh? I got nothin’! Cause you sent her away!”

“I ain’t doin’ this again…”

“You let your wife send her away–”

“Maybe you should have told her! Maybe if you didn’t fuckin’ lie to her she never woulda left! You ever imagine that, Joel? What your life could be like if you were honest for once? You’d be wakin’ up to her in your damn bed instead of being out here in mourning!”

The snow softened Tommy’s landing as Joel’s shoulder slammed into his stomach and sent him flying to the ground, a lucky knee to Joel’s stomach giving Tommy enough time to scramble back and right himself with enough distance to avoid another attack. 

“You think about Ellie waitin’ for you to come home,” Tommy cautioned, “Before you do something stupid. You got amends to make with her before this happens all over again.”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth.” This was not the time for principled speeches.

“Have you learned nothin’?!”

“I said shut your god damn mouth, boy!”

“Go take a walk! You need one. Then we’re fuckin’ leaving, and goin’ home.”

Once he was out of Tommy’s line of sight, he collapsed. The sun was going down, the distorted orb reflecting on the surface like flames, no doubt Tommy would be bringing them back to that house tonight for rest indoors before the long journey home. Maybe the ghost of you walked inbetween the walls, or were you out wandering this barren wasteland always trying to find your way home. He’d done this. The knowledge of that fact had been there all along, but it had taken Tommy screaming it at him for it to batter against the forefront of his mind. He did this. If he hadn’t lied to you it was unlikely you’d have volunteered. After you’d confronted him he should have fought, he should have been slamming his fist against your door begging for you to forgive him, unleashing every single one of his ugly truths when you let him inside to beg for one last chance. But he hadn’t. And now you were gone.

“Hey there, stranger,” a strange voice greeted that had the hair prickling on the back of Joel’s neck, “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Joel remained silent, wracking his brain for a way to pull the revolver from the waist of jeans without being seen.

“What brings you out this way?” the voice continued, it was too friendly, too decent…

“Sightseein’,” Joel finally lied, keeping his eyes straight forward.

“Don’t see many people doing that these days.”

He didn’t need to see it to know it was there, the rifle pointed right at the back of his head. This wasn’t a bad view if were the last thing he would see. 

“Why don’t you just get on with it?” Joel finally asked, resigning to his fate with almost a sense of relief.

“Hey!” Tommy was yelling, Joel could see him sprinting over, shotgun raised. It was like he didn’t know that thing was shit at a distance and his brain would be sprayed across the snow faster than Tommy could load another set of shells, “Put the fuckin’ gun down!”

“You boys from Texas?” the stranger asked, Joel sighing in frustration at the game this man was playing, remaining silent as he gnashed his teeth together.

“Way back when,” Tommy answered, earning a stony look from his brother. He never knew when to keep his mouth shut.

“So, which one of you is Joel?”

“Who the hell are you?”

Ice ran through Joel’s veins at the sound of his name. He wasn’t unaware of where he was; at the present he was closer to Salt Lake City than home, a city that had his stomach churning. For as many as he’d slaughtered, he knew some got away with full knowledge of who he was and what he’d smuggled out of that hospital. One wrong move and Ellie’s location was no longer safe, one slip of the tongue, one wrong look.

He’d destroyed the Fireflies, singlehandedly. There were a few small factions scattered about, but their cause was all but destroyed thanks to him. Without a cure on the horizon, they had nothing left to hope for, nothing to work towards. They could join the rest of what was left of society, hopeless and dejected. 

“You let my brother go,” Joel finally bargained, “And I’ll go with you.”

“Joel what the hell is goin’ on?” Tommy was panicking now, “You ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“Let him go.”

Now he was turning, finding a man in his 70s holding the rifle he’d already known was there. Suddenly this became less urgent, he could see the man’s hands trembling and a flicker of fear in his eye. At least Joel’s reputation was still intact. With one quick lunge he could have him round the knees, the rifle loosening enough from those gnarled fingers that Joel could add it to his own arsenal. 

“I don’t want any trouble,” the man finally surrendered, “Just heard a lot about you.”

“From?” Joel growled, uncaring now of what might happen as he snuck his hand to the small of his back, finding the trusty weapon its usual spot.

“People passing through. I wasn’t expecting you, but my wife has a way of knowing things. She thought you’d turn up. And here you are.”

Tommy and Joel shared a look, had this man encountered Eugene and Paulie at some point? It was far off their course, there was no way they’d stumbled into him. There was something else he knew, something that had Joel’s heart thudding in his chest.

“Why don’t you come back with me, get a hot meal and good night’s sleep,” the man offered, “We don’t have much in the way of beds, but it’s warm and you look like you haven’t felt a fire in days.”

“You got a name?” Joel inquired, still wary, but the sirens in his head had stopped blaring.

“Oh. Where are my manners? Corbin. Nice to meet you Joel and…” he dragged out, looking over at Tommy.

“Tommy,” the younger Miller introduced, holding his hand out first for a shake, a silent promise that all that was said was true, both men nodding at the implications as they gripped the other.

It was a short ride, about an hour, back to Corbin’s, the property evident from a distance as the smoke from the chimney plumed up into the dusk sky. Joel’s despair had returned, the knowledge that in the morning he and Tommy would be on their way back to Wyoming alone and without closure. Where did he go from here? 

“Joel,” Tommy sounded from beside him, “I didn’t mean what I said. This ain’t your fault. None of it. I shoulda fought harder–”

“It is my fault.” Saying it hurt. Saying it opened up the mouth of the beast waiting to swallow him. 

“It’s just up ahead,” Corbin interrupted, the small farmhouse coming into view, heavily fenced and secure.

“Quite the place you got here,” Joel admired, a fond smile settling on his face as he recalled a man with similar barriers, and for a second he wondered just how old Bill was doing. It had crossed his mind to head back out East and get him, bring him to the safe haven of Jackson, but something told him Bill liked the fight and would prefer to go down swinging anyway.

“Horses can go in the barn,” their host instructed as he hopped down to open the gate, “I’m sure some dinner is already going.”

“Appreciate it.”

The house was warm, a fire roaring in the hearth as the three men stepped inside, Corbin calling for his wife, Lee, who rounded into the room in an apron. It felt almost dystopian. 

“Oh!” She exclaimed, the sitcom feel of this moment had Joel’s eyebrows furrowing, “More stragglers, Cor?”

“Yeah,” Corbin replied, smiling, “We got Tommy, and that one there, is Joel.”

“Oh… Joel.”

“Mhmm.”

“Why do you all act like you know me?” Joel snapped, now it was grating, now he was panicking, this felt off. He knew what kind of people lurked about, cannibals and religious zealots, he cursed himself for leaving his weapons with the horse. 

“Easy now,” Tommy warned, ticking his head down for Joel to see that Tommy hadn’t been as foolish as he had, his pistol still tucked into the holster at his hip, “Ma’am, it’s nice to meet you. Thank you for…your hospitality.”

“Well, I’m just glad you’re here,” Lee replied, “I’ll go throw a little bit more into the stew. Take a seat.”

Neither man obliged, even as Corbin rounded the old blue couch and collapsed. The house was like a relic of the 80s, gaudy florals in bold colors, angels and religious statues on the shelves surrounded by bibles and books. Even an old box TV still sat in the corner despite the lack of electricity. As Joel looked around, he saw the a medical degree hanging in a frame, Corbin’s, and family photos of who he assumed were their two hosts and their children. He hated how much of it reminded him of the house he and Tommy had grown up in, even down to the wood paneling on the walls. 

Muffled talking could be heard in the kitchen, a door to what must have been a basement slamming shut. A third? Now Joel wanted that gun, it was just out of reach but Corbin was already half asleep on the couch. The footsteps grew closer, he could see the shadow against the floor approaching, his senses blaring as he took a small step in front of Tommy, his arm lifting slightly to shield him from whoever it was about to make face.

“Corbin, did you–” 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Tommy whispered under his breath as the unidentified person rounded into the room.

“Joel?” 

Chapter 13 (There's a tag list now if you prefer that!)

Art as always by @natendo-art 😭🩵

[loquatenjoyer69]

a get to know you better meme

I was tagged by @qserasera, what a surprise and kind of an honor, thank you

do you make your bed? No lol I sleep in a nest of blankets

what's your favourite number? My "favorite" I guess is 7, but "my" number has always been 4 so that's what I (usually) pick for everything. Sending 4 emojis, picking the fourth thing, etc.

what is your job? I teach metalsmithing (jewelry, not blacksmithing)

If you could go back to school would you? (smiling through tears) I'm still there (college) but no. I have regarded school as the house of the devil and a factory of suffering for many years now. I'm just trying to get my degree so I can get better jobs lol

can you parallel park? No, I don't like cars or driving so I don't partake.

a job you had that would surprise people? Idk, I think many people are often surprised by my current job, but other than that I don't think there is one.

do you think aliens are real? Yeah in a sense, like it's more likely than not that other lifeforms exist in the universe. But I don't think any have come to earth sadly :(

can you drive a manual car? See above lol. But my mom wanted to teach me once

what's your guilty pleasure? I try not to be ashamed of things I like but one thing I regard as a guilty pleasure is like, sometimes I listen to music that I don't think is very good but it's catchy and I just like it. Usually it's like new pop hits and stuff. I don't consider it to be representative of what I listen to and I don't play it around other people lol but yeah

tattoos? Yep, I have two, both done by myself when I was fifteen LOL... But I've been thinking about doing another one because I had another idea and I don't have money ha ha ha....also I just like doing it I like doing art who woulda thunk

favourite colour? I feel obligated to say red (and its associates) here since it's literally the only color I wear that isn't black...but it's just because that's kind of my brand. I like most colors, it would be easier for me to say which colors I don't like.

favourite type of music? I like all kinds of music, but the categories the music I listen to the most fall into is like, rock/metal (stuff with really nice guitars and drums), folk/indie, and electronic. I like music with good lyrics, and if it doesn't have good lyrics it has to sound good to me.

do you like puzzles? Does anyone not??

any phobias? I don't think so, just icked out by normal stuff like mold and spiders and stuff sometimes.

favourite childhood sport? I didn't get to do sports when I was a kid, that's why I do them now B-)

do you talk to yourself? Nope, and for a long time I was convinced that talking to yourself was just something that was done in movies and TV to show what a character was thinking. I didn't believe anyone actually talked to themself in real life, when no one is around. I also didn't talk/narrate my play as a kid if I was alone because well...I know what's happening, I know what my toys are saying, why do I need to speak it out loud? But I narrate my actions when I'm around other people, that's separate.

what movie(s) do you adore? I really like Peking Opera Blues, it's probably my favorite movie of all time...or at least my favorite live action movie. Also I like JCSS (the 1973 film), and as for animation, all the Cartoon Saloon movies, but especially Secret of Kells which pretty much shaped me as a person and Wolfwalkers which I've always kind of wanted to do like, an essay on but never got around to.

coffee or tea? I drink tea the most, I really never drink coffee but I like the taste. Just, caffeine makes me really shaky and sweaty and doesn't actually make me feel more alert so the drawbacks are not worth it most of the time.

first thing you wanted to be growing up? When I was in preschool I said I wanted to be a firefighter but that wasn't something I held onto long term. I don't think I really had a childhood dream occupation.

tagging @joelletwo, @versaphile, @treecakes, and @ladsofsorrow24 if you guys haven't done this already/want to do it

[starlitangels]

Protector/Protected

This was inevitable 1.3k words

—

The door to the house opened. “Darlin’?” Sam called. “I saw your bike out front. I know you’re here!”

“I’m upstairs!” I shouted.

In an instant Sam was in front of where I’d been digging through a box of his old keepsakes he’d mentioned wanting to organize. “Vincent and his partner wanna do a double date tonight. Just at Vincent’s house. Watch a movie. Play a board game.”

“Ooh! Do I finally get to teach you guys Betrayal at House on the Hill?” I asked.

“Maybe?”

“Cool. I’ll bring it.” I pulled a fancy cowboy hat out of the box and put it on my head. It was too big and flopped down over my eyes. “How can you protest me calling you a cowboy when you own this in your sentimental box?”

He pulled it off my head. “It’s a show hat. It’s there for looks, not for practicality. And it was a gift.”

“From who?”

“This one was from my grandfather. The last actual cowboy in my family.” He dug another—much smaller—matching hat out of the box. “This was his wife’s. My grandmother’s. She was the rodeo queen seven years in a row.”

“Rodeo queen?”

“Town they grew up in had somethin’ of a beauty pageant to go along with the rodeo. Gran could barrel race with the best-a ‘em and win the beauty pageant the same day. That made her the rodeo queen. This was her show hat.”

“So how’d you end up with them?”

“Well. Gramps and Gran knew no one else in the family would take proper care-a them. So they were left to me. I was still human when they passed. My pa never asked for ‘em back when I was turned. Which... he probably woulda if any-a my family still spoke to me.”

“Sentimental to them too?”

“Nah—couldn’t care less. But I doubt my parents would want a...” He cleared his throat and snorted bitterly. “Well. They wouldn’t want a leech holdin’ onto such ‘family heirlooms’ for eternity rather than passin’ ‘em on.”

Sam had mentioned before that his family had very bigoted opinions toward vampires. The fact that they couldn’t see past what happened to him to look at the context of him getting turned against his will made my blood boil. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d march right on over to his childhood home and give them all a piece of my mind. But Sam would never let me. He wanted to leave the past behind him.

Apart from this box of keepsakes.

I put his grandmother’s hat on. It was too small and squeezed around my scalp. I made a face of discomfort while I pried it off my head. Sam started to laugh. Big and deep, throwing his head back.

“What?” I complained.

He looked back down. “That grumpy look is adorable.”

“I’m not adorable. I’m intimidating.”

“Not to me.” He leaned forward and kissed my temple. “C’mon. Let’s get goin’. We’ll stop by your place to get the game and then head on over to Vincent’s.”

Rolling my eyes, I got to my feet. “Fine. Your truck or my motorcycle?”

“I ain’t gettin’ on that bike without a helmet, darlin’. And I know you’ve only got the one on you. So my truck.”

“I’ll get you on my bike eventually,” I said as he led me down to his garage and opened the passenger door to his truck for me. I hopped up inside.

“Maybe.” He shut the door.

—

Vincent’s partner laughed as they flopped onto the sofa. “That was a crazy game!” they exclaimed. “I mean, I played Betrayal with my high school friends but I don’t think the traitor ever won!”

I chuckled and boosted myself from the floor where we’d sprawled out the house room tiles up onto the loveseat. “I mean, it helped that I removed my figure from the board since I was invisible so no one knew where I was until I attacked.”

“True,” they agreed.

“Scoot over, darlin’,” Sam said, emerging from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn.

I groaned. “But I’m already where I need to be so you can have your armrest!” I protested.

“That’s just at my house. At Vincent’s house, I like the other arm rest.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are such an old man,” I complained. “Why?”

“Vincent’s armrests are higher’n mine. I don’t mind havin’ my left arm that high but it irritates my right shoulder.”

“You are an old man,” I repeated, shoving myself to the other side of the loveseat with that world-weary sigh that always seemed to amuse Sam. “For being biologically frozen in your early thirties.”

Vincent started laughing as he appeared from the kitchen with his own popcorn bowl. “You mean you haven’t figured it out yet, Tank?”

“Figured what out?” I asked, whirling around to look Vincent in the eye.

“Watch your mouth, Solaire,” Sam threatened.

Vincent just smiled a toothy—fangy—grin. “I don’t know what you’re taking about, Collins,” he retorted.

“The hell you don’t.”

I shifted up onto my knees, peering over the back of the loveseat. “Tell me, Vincent! What haven’t I figured out?” 

I tracked him as he circled the furniture to sit next to his partner, throwing one slender-but-toned arm around them. They snuggled against his side immediately. Vincent’s fangs slid back into his mouth, looking like normal—if abnormally sharp—canines.

“He has his spots that he likes because they put him between you and the most likely entry point of danger.”

I turned slowly to look at Sam. “Wait. Really?”

Sam didn’t meet my eyes, instead shooting a silver glare over my head toward Vincent before sitting down beside me.

“Sam,” I said softly as Vincent’s partner started talking to Vincent about grabbing the remote to find the movie we were planning on watching. “You know I can take care of myself...”

His gaze snapped down to mine. “That doesn’t mean you should have to, darlin’,” he replied. “You... You’ve given so much of yourself... I know you’re a protector by nature but... that doesn’t mean you can’t be protected, sometimes. And I’m sick ‘n’ tired of just patchin’ people up after they’ve been hurt. I just... I wanna keep you from gettin’ hurt in the first place. Because, dammit darlin’, you deserve to have someone protectin’ you. And it might as well be the person who loves you more’n he loves anyone else.”

Completely forgetting that Vincent and his partner were right there, I leaned across the bowl of popcorn and slammed Sam into a kiss. He and I both knew I was bad at words, so I poured my gratitude and appreciation—and all the love I had in my body—into the contact between us.

“Should we leave them alone for a minute?” Vincent’s partner whispered.

“Nah,” Vincent replied. “Hey Collins!” he called louder. “We watching Lord of the Rings or what?”

Sam mumbled something very unflattering to Vincent under his breath as he pulled away from the kiss—earning laughter from Vincent in the process—and snuggled me under his arm. “Sure, fine. Whatever,” he said.

“Look, if you two wanna dip out early...” Vincent bit his tongue between two elongating fangs as he winked.

“Put those away, you pervert,” Sam snapped. But there was laughter in that grumpy tone and he was obviously fighting down a smile.

Vincent snickered. “So...?” he prompted.

“Just play the damn movie, you wise-ass.”

Vincent’s partner handed him the TV remote and he navigated to Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring and pressed Watch. “Say no more.”

—

Tag list: @zozo-01 @thegoldenlittlerose @mainhoesstuff 

[sugar-omi]

omg this school talk is so cute dhdjf i had home ec but never had to do the baby project (never had to in my childhood development class either! but we did have a class hamster), imagining that with cove is so cute though 🥺 we did stuff like cooking and baking and learning how to sew and about food safety, things like that, baking cookies and other stuff with cove would be so fun or giving him the little projects you made in class like how we made little cross stitch bookmarks 💕

oh also! i thought about how i actually was the counselors aide and it replaced my study hall class, it happened to be during one of the lunch periods so sometimes friends who had that lunch period would come sit with me or i would have to hand out papers to certain students/classrooms and would occasionally see friends when doing that, i feel like if mc showed up to one of coves classes for something like that he would just be so excited like you can see the stars in his eyes dhdjdjf god cove is just so cute 😭💕 - 🕑

HAMSTER

we could've never had class pets, hate to say but it woulda been bad😬 SOMEONE PRBLY WOULDA FUCKING STOLE IT

anyway.....

cove would wave n if possible come see you or ask you to wait (yall create a fucking signal so you know to wait for him)

n he'll steal a lil hug or kiss, maybe even just a hand squeeze n a lil "hi<3"

everyone teases him too!!! like someone will go "cove there's your s/o"

and he WHIPS his head around so fast omg

is sad when you leave

(blow him a lil kiss?🤭🫣)

[ahhscheisse]

i had a hard time in high school - as i’m sure every queer person did. i wasn’t out then, and i didn’t know then, either… but everyone else knew. kinda funny how that works. almost everything i was bullied for in school came true - and i’ve grown to realize, none make me bad, unlovable or unwanted.

that said, i recently found out that a pre-professional art high school that i applied to at, i think, 16 - just before my nervous breakdown - accepted me. all this time, i thought i’d been rejected, and that belief allowed me to be okay with what happened after i sent my portfolio in because i didn’t get in anyway.

a big part of me is actually quite happy that i was accepted. i have spent the better part of the last fifteen or so years with the belief that a school like that would never want me. that i couldn’t compete with other artists - but i can! and did! and got in! but man, i don’t remember almost anything from my childhood/teen years…

my mom told me i begged her to not make me go. that i wanted to stay in my own personal hell - a place i was force fed dirt, beaten up, and worse - for my friends. she was worried about me at the time - said she couldn’t tell if my desire to stay was normal anxiety that i needed to push through or the straw that’d break the camels back.

thing is… i wonder how i woulda turned out had i chosen to leave my friends instead of waiting for them to leave me?

make better choices than i have, kids. if your friends and/or partner(s) in school want to be in your life, they’ll make the effort no matter the distance. mine didn’t and i was six feet away.

ways to support

[beforeiforgetyou]

Ugh it’s like everything I’ve been refusing to see is suddenly clear.

Such a smart man. Such a sensitive guy. I woulda been a millionaire by now if it weren’t for this heart of mine. But that’s okay. I love my always aching heart. And I don’t care for that ‘money over everything’ attitude anyway.

No… I’m exactly who I’m supposed to be and exactly where I’m supposed to be right now.

I feel like a new man. A clean man… And now there’s work to do.

Fix my real job. Quit this play one. Finish my education. Find that girl. Write that book. See the world.

And while I’m doing imma keep doing what I love! Drinking, fucking, and pondering the metaphysical mysteries of the universe.

Nothing is going to hold me back anymore. No girl. No job. No childhood trauma. Nah. I’m done crying. Done begging for love or attention. No. That’s so far beneath me now.

I know what I want. I know who I am. I know what it takes to make it in this life and I know how to make it happen. I know what’s in my heart. And I know what I have to offer.

Family, friends, relationships… Love me or leave me 🤷🏾‍♂️ Cuz in reality, it’s never my loss.

[ranhaitanisgf]

LMAOOOO genshin is like , base starting out then you evolve to writing for other fandoms 😭😭

i still play the game daily (gotta grind w my welkin) but i’m not as into it as i was 2 years ago ( 2021 PLAYERRRR 😍😍 ), but i think fontaine dragged me back into genshin.

unfortunately, when i started playing genshin. i had a job. which means…

i had money. (i’ve spent $700+ on this stupid game)

ALSO YES WHY DOES NOBODY TALK SBOUT RYUSEI ?? HES SUCH A LIL CUTIE AND HES SUCH A FUNNY CHARACTER ??

like ik some people haven’t read it but THEY NEED TO BC ITS SO GOOD RAGHHH

ALDO YES I AGREE THE BAJI AND CHIFUYU INTERACTIONS ARE THE SWEETEST THIGNS EVERRRR

I’m a firm believer that chifuyu + takemichi are the best duo in the show (friend wise, i’m not a ship kinda guy) , but baji and chifuyu are still an amazing friendship 😭😭. ( chifuyu is my son , and i will die on the fact that he was the absolute backbone for takemichi and takemichi woulda never made it as far as he did without chifuyu I COULD GO ON ABOUT THIS FOR HOURS ).

BROOO UR ACTUALLY SOOOO REAL FOR THAT !!! the ending definitely wouldve been a lottt different w/o chifuyu, like he was always there for takemichi and so understanding !! +esp when michi told him abt being a time leaper, chifuyu was just like 'yeah makes sense tbh ' and gave him his full unconditional unwavering support ????? HES SUCH AN AMAZING CHARACTER !!!

i doooo rlly like the baji and chifuyu friendship cause we r also seeing why chifuyu respected baji so much, which i think is just so cute !! we never rlly get a big look into their past tbh, so this spin off is just like ooouugghhh toooooo good ! (they r also both idiots but in the best way possible so its actually so hilarious like Y WAS CHIFUYU PULLING UP TO MEETINGS W A BICYCLE LMAOAO)

[going to be discussing recent chaps of spin off series so if u havent read them ... yeas ]

honestly though im kind of worried for the next little arc in the series ... cause obv theres some kind of reason why ryusei isn't in the main series .. if wakui kills him off i will literally go crazy . b/c thats what it feels like its leading up to imo since now they're all gna investigate / go up against this new crazy guy, (+being partnered up w/ ryusei's crazy childhood friend feels like a disaster waiting 2 happen) IM SCAREDDDDD 😭 plssssss i hope that its just ryusei leaves the whole delinquent scene or smth like that 😭

[storytimewithnova]

Bubble tea and sunsets 🌇

Trio kunishirahina (friends but had a more deeper feeling for them)

Nothing hurts more than losing friendship How was the friendship lost it started with some Rumors no one believed them at first then time went on the Rumors got worse they started to convince Kunimi now learning the truth if only he didn't believe the twisted words of a twisted pick me girl they would still be friends together but the problem is those said friends were also are your crushes and somehow you all end up separating due to forces beyond your control and for Kunimi Akira that is what happened he lost any all connection with his childhood bestfriends his soulmates they only thing he had left of them was their childhood Tradition to keep their memories alive what he didn't know was they were doing the same hoping that one day they would find each other again

From kunimi pov

Do you know what reminds me of you reminds me of us of all the times we sent together all the promises we made our old tradition i kept it going By the way i wonder if you guys did too While i also silently hoping to see you both again

Somehow for some reason i was willing to give you a second chance to explain why you both walked out of my life and left me standing in the rain like literally sanding in the way i was waiting at our normal hangout spot and you never showed upo was standing there like a lemon when it started to rain but anyway To my childhood bestfriends who i loved so dear

Loved for me i loved you more than friends for you guys i think you just saw me as just that a friend aAnd there lies my issue I gave my love my heart My tears everything I gave to you Now i am at our special place with the Horizon in view with my bubble tea in hand my memories of you two watching the sunset like we use to do which then turned into stargazing Bubble Tea and us two

Kunimi:🎶Yeah I wonder if My name has ever crossed your mind Even for a second Know it's been a second🎶

I took a sip of my bubble as i watched the sun go down i hope you two are doing the same I hope you are think of me like i am of you even if it's just for a second

Kunimi:🎶 Since we last talked Or faced each other eye-to-eye Know it's been hectic Yeah I shoulda said this🎶

When was the last time we talked or even saw each other or hungout can't remember when was the last time we hung out just the three of us oh right now i remember

Kunimi:🎶It kinda hurts 'cause it's insane Yeah we walk by and it's like I don't even know you Like I've never met you I see our pictures on my phone And question why we didn't try But we were just habits Thought we'd always have it🎶

I sat and looked at the pictures one my phone of us and wondered what happened what changed was in me was it something I did something I said what tore us apart

Kunimi:🎶So to my ex-best friends I thought I'd know till the end Sorry I know things aren't going as we planned To my once ride or die The ones who always knew me right We would swear it'd always end up you and I We really messed up this time🎶

Else where in Hyōgo miya residence Sho sat at her window looking out as she watched the sunset and drank her bubble tea she sang

Sho:🎶We really messed up this time We really messed up this time🎶

Shona's POV

I am sorry Jiro and Aki i miss you guys so much i wish you were here right now or i was there i am sorry I left you guys sorry i didn't explain sorry i disappeared without a trace

Kunimi:🎶What about all the nights Where we'd talk about our lives? We were just wishing🎶

Else where with shirabu and shona (they are in their homes they are now looking at the stars singing)

ShiraMiya:🎶Wish I woulda listened🎶

Even though they were doing their childhood tradition separately and in diffrent prefectures they somehow felt connected and they could feel each other and their sadness that made them more determined to get back to each other somehow yes Kunimi still had those romantic feelings for both of them but what about shirabu and Shona they would be lying if they said there weren't something there but right now all that is there is hurt longing and sadness

Kunimi:🎶It kinda hurts 'cause it's insane Yeah we walk by and it's like I don't even know you Like I've never met you🎶

Shona:🎶I see our pictures on my phone And question why we didn't try But we were just habits Thought we'd always have it🎶

She say looking at their old memories pictures videos and questioned why they didn't try and talk why they haven't tried to reach out to each other she always thought they be together forever bffs till the end but guess she was wrong apart of her wants to keep some hope though

All three:🎶So to my ex-best friends I thought I'd know 'til the end Sorry I know things aren't going As we planned To my once ride-or-die The ones who always knew me right We would swear it'd always end up You and I We really messed up this time🎶

No one's pov

They got up from where they sat and threw away their empty Bubble Tea cup they looked at the moon at said we will see each other again Somehow someday we will get back to each other he hit shuffle on his Ipod that had all the songs the trio made together the music started playing he started singing what he didn't realise is he called the Chaotic friends GC at the same time

In the Chaos raigns supreme GC

Kunimi:🎶Remember when we first met? You said "let's watch the sunset" So I lied to my mom and dad🎶

Shona's thoughts💭 i remember thst you were meant to be grounded

Shirabu’s thoughts💭 we miss you Aki come back to us bestie

Kunim:🎶I jumped the fence and I ran But we couldn't go very far 'Cause you locked your keys in your car So you sat and stared at my lips And I could already feel your kiss🎶

kenma:Kunimi what are you talking about

Shona's thoughts💭we came to get you but we didn't far because shirabu looked his keys in his car we stared are your lips kunimi you were our first kiss

Suna: Kunimi are you okay?

Kunimi:🎶Long nights, daydreams Sugar and Candies, I've been a fool But Bubble Tea and Sunsets always remind me of you🎶

the friend group was silent and confused suddenly shona started Typing

Shona:🎶Headlights, on me Racing to 60, I've been a fool But Bubble Tea and Sunsets always remind me of 🎶

everyone:Shona?!

even her siblings are confused shirabu suddenly started typing

shirabu:🎶Brown eyes, black jeans Lighters and Vaping, I've been a fool But Bubble Tea and Sunsets always Reminds me of you🎶

Kunimi: @shona @Shirabu 🎶Remember when you taught me fate Said it'd all be worth the wait Like that night in the back of the cab When your fingers walked in my hand🎶

Shona:🎶Next day, nothin' on my phone But I can still smell you on my clothes🎶

After that night Kunimi was talking about it was like they all ghosted each other this was before the rumours before the fall out before they lost each other

With the others in the Chaotic GC they are trying to workout what is going on so they are letting the Trio continue hoping for anwsers

Shirabu:🎶Always hoping things would change But we went right back to your games Long nights, daydreams Sugar and Candies, I've been a fool But Bubble Tea and Sunsets always reminds me of you🎶

The trio:🎶Headlights, on me Racing to 60, I've been a fool But Bubble Tea and Sunsets always reminds me of Blue eyes, black jeans Lighters and Vaping, I've been a fool But Bubble Tea and Sunsets always reminds me of you🎶

Kunimi:🎶And even if I run away Give my heart a holiday Still Bubble Tea and Sunsets always Reminds me of you🎶

Shona:🎶You always leave me wanting more I can't shake my hunger for Bubble Tea and Sunsets always reminds me of you Yeah, they always remind me of you:🎶

Shirabu:🎶Long nights, daydreams With that sugar and Candies Always Reminds me of you🎶

Kunimi:🎶Headlights, on me🎶

Shirahina:🎶and even if I run away🎶

Kunimi:🎶Racing to 60, I've been a fool🎶

Shirahina:🎶and give my heart a holiday🎶

Kunimi: 🎶Still, Bubble Tea and Sunsets always remind me Blue eyes, black jeans🎶

Shirahina:🎶you always leave us wanting more🎶

Kunimi:🎶Lighters and Vaping, I've been a fool

Shirahina: 🎶I can't shake my hunger for🎶

The trio:🎶Bubble Tea and Sunsets always Reminds me of you🎶

Shona: we missed you Aki we are sorry so so sorry

Shirabu: yeah Kira we are crap friends

Kunimi: No your not we all believed the rumours that was made about us by a pick me girl we should have trusted each other i mean jesus we have been friends since we were kids our bond is strong enough to withstand anything then little miss pick me comes along with her twisted words and twisted games because she was jealous and wanted Kenji she broke us apart

Everyone in the chats thoughts 💭R/N did that but even we thought she was telling the truth

Kunimi: all because the truth is she wanted to make a harem your harem shona she didn't just want Kenji she wanted your harem for fame money popularity

Everyone:.....

Kunimi continued

Kunimi: and here and everyone that believed her drove a us apart we lost friends because of her

Shona: No wrong even my brothers don't know all the bulling i endured and how many attempts i made on my if it weren't for Tori Ni bringing me back every time i would be dead

The twins thoughts💭 what the hell Imōto how did we not know omg of course she wouldn't tell us we believed the pick me girl

Shirabu: how did we not know about this

Shona: after she spead her twisted stories i figured you wouldn't want to talk to me she painted me as a whore that i sleep with people for money as well as bully people

You could feel the guilt radiant in the group chat especially from her brothers

Shona: you don't think i wanted to be with you two again i mean i even kept our childhood tradition alive

Shirakuni: so did we

Kunimi: can we like meet up tonight our place

Shirabu: with Bubble Teas

Shona: and Sunsets turn to stargazing

The trio: sounds like a plan see you later

The trio went offline

Osamu: Imōto what have I done to you

Atsumu: correction what have we done to you why didn't Nee san tell us

Suna: we are the worse friends ever

Konoha: even me and Daishou how could we we're her cousins we shunned her even when she came to use telling us Auntie disowned her

The twins : What?!

Atsumu added Mrs miya

Mrs miya: Atsumu what's up

Atsumu: back read mum back read and see what your youngest has gone through

Mrs Miya Backread

Mrs Miya: .....

Mrs miya didn't know what to say she course harm to her youngest daughter she also just learnt she is vaping and do drugs (Sugar as in drug coke mainly and candies as in the sweets ) it broke her heart knowing she was a course She heard the rumors she believed them and she kicked her youngest out

Osamu:Like me and Atsumu we are also guilty you did't hear her out and we are not going to play it off that we are not guilty because we are

meanwhile the Trio meant up at their spot went to the hill and sat under a cherry bloosm tree to watch the sunset with bubble teas

after that night they were able to rekindle their friendship and their mom tried to get her daughter back but shona said what she did hurt her and she can't forgive her even her brothers begged forgiveness the same with kunimi and shirabu they didn't forgive their families or friends their bond grew stronger and the crush they had for each other became more and so did they

the end

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #134

Who owns the computer you are on? Me.

What is your first childhood memory? I'm pretty sure it's watching my brother slide down our playset slide into the flood of Hurricane Floyd lmao, I woulda been close to four. That one single day I was at daycare also comes to mind; don't feel like telling it again cuz I did very recently in one of these. I can't remember exactly how old I was, though.

Ever been in love? Twice.

Are you in love now? Yes.

Look left: What do you see? The closet, and my purse and camera bag hanging from each handle.

Look right: What do you see? The window.

Can you say the alphabet backwards? No, I've never been able to. I have to think too hard.

Ever had a long-distance relationship? One, yeah.

Ever had an online relationship? ^ same one. Granted, we visited each other a few times, but still.

Would you ever do it/do it again? I very highly doubt it.

What do you hear right now? I have "Ausländer" by Rammstein on.

Do you like scary movies? Yes.

Ever gotten a prank phone call? Not that I remember.

What was the last thing you had to drink? The strawberry-flavored carbonated water I basically live off of.

Who is the most annoying person you know? My sister's fucking husband, of the people I personally know. I don't wish anyone to go through a divorce, I seriously don't, but god I wish Ashley wasn't with him, for MANY reasons.

If you were one of Snow White’s seven dwarfs, which one would you be? Uh, just by Googling them (I don't remember the detailed parts of their characters), probably Sleepy lmao

How much sleep did you get last night? Idk, but more than the night before, thankfully. I was in a terrible mood and laid down early, so I know that helped getting me to go to sleep.

Have you ever kissed the same gender? Yes.

Do you get aroused by anything unusual? Not anything absolutely off the wall but like more "normal"/established less common things if you get me lmao

How/when did you have your first orgasm? As embarrassing as this story is it's also funny as fuck to me but basically this came very close to happening Once aND I WAS SO ALARMED BY/PANICKING OVER HOW MY BODY FELT THAT WE STOPPED LMAOOOOOOOOOOO waiting for it to go away was the worst

In what places other than a bedroom have you had sex? Literal sex, zero, but adjacent things, like the couch and as a teenager on the floor, good fucking luck getting my knees to do that shit now lmfao

When was the last time you were angry, and why? Last night, I'm being so fucking bad about not eating and I was paying for it til I finally had a sandwich because I'd developed a bad headache and was extremely weak.

Are you a romantic? I think I am, been told so.

Would you ever own a poodle? Would I rescue one, possibly, but I wouldn't seek that breed out deliberately.

What’s your best friend’s favorite color? Teal.

What color was your senior prom dress? Black.

Who’s your favourite voice actor? What’s the best thing they’ve been in? I don't have a strong opinion here, but holy shit I DO love Christopher Judge, especially as Kratos in the last two God of War games, like holy shit that voice belongs to a prehistoric-sized bear.

Are you more of an introvert or an extrovert? If you’re an introvert, do you feel like you live in a world built for extroverts? Introvert, and to answer the second question, absolutely yes. I firmly believe success and financial stability generally favors them.

Is there anything (a hobby, for example) that’s guaranteed to always make you feel better when you’ve had a bad day? Not completely without fail, no.

If you have pets, do you snuggle with them when you’re having a bad time? Does it make you feel better? No. Roman, surprisingly, doesn't like being held; he kinda freaks out when he knows his ability to move is limited.

What did you get the last time you went out for fast food? Taco Bell.

How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had in 2014? I was only with Jason in '14.

What would you tell to your eighth grade self? girl you're 100% Not straight and fuck any religion that tells you loving somebody is wrong

Can you curse around your parents? Mom's not a fan of hearing me say "fuck," but it still happens. I do try to say it less around her, though. Dad doesn't give a shit.

What does your mom say about the pictures on your Tumblr? screaming over this question bc it's just a thirst trap of German men around + literally her age hELP I'd take a shotgun blast to the shin before I let her see my Tumblr lmfao

What was the last thing you and your parents argued about? I haven't argued with my dad in many years, I have zero idea what our last argument was. I can't remember what Mom and I last fought about either.

Would you tattoo someone’s name on your body? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Do you believe “Once a cheater, always a cheater?” No; people should be allowed to learn, grow, and change. Does that mean you have to forgive a cheater, no, because I wouldn't either, but don't just assume because someone's done it once that they're 100% gonna do it again.

Think back to the last person you kissed. How many times have you cried in their arms? Quite a few.

What’s an interesting fact about you that not many people know? I guess that I'm a carrier of inactive MRSA, that's not something that's almost ever relevant to a conversation.

If you had the chance to move to a completely different state/country, would you? No, I'm not leaving my family or Girt, and even if he came, I'm not pulling him away from what's left of his family.

Do you currently feel any sadness? I'm super thankfully fine this morning, can't say the same for last night at all. I did start my period overnight however and it's VERY normal for me to have a hellish day before starting so it is reassuring to know there was a reliable reason why I was so bad last night.

Do you ever feel like people use you? No, it's not like I have much to offer people.

Can you sleep with your eyes open? I've never been told I do this.

Last kiss, when and who: Last Saturday, with Girt.

Northernmost state you’ve been to: New York.

Turning 21 was (will be): I was in the psych hospital on my 21st birthday lol, it's a sad memory. There is some sweetness in it though, with how much everyone tried to make it a good day for me. I wound up with a slice of cake and cried when everyone sang happy birthday at dinner, crying now a bit remembering it.

Think you’ll live to be 100? Absolutely not.

What does the shirt you are wearing look like? It's just a gray tank top.

Which YouTuber do you feel like you could be friends with easily? Emzotic is one. She's primarily a pet channel and animal educator with one HELL of an abuse trauma recovery story and is just a FANFUCKINGTASTIC person with so much light in her, I adore her. Honestly need to get back into watching her actual videos more, I mostly just know what's going on with her through Instagram.

Do you think you will dye your hair when you start going gray? I plan on always dyeing my hair, when I can afford it. I just really, really love colorful hair.

Who is that last good musician or band you discovered? Uh, maybe Ghost?

What color was the house you grew up in? It was red brick with an I'm pretty sure white wooden porch.

Say something in a foreign language? Uhhhh ich heiẞe Brittany, eine 27-jährige Frau, und iche lebe im North Carolina von der(?) USA.

What is something you enjoy learning about? Meerkats and really just animals + nature as a whole, as well as the ^ language because WOW I'm RUSTY Y'ALL and I just think learning a foreign language is really fucking cool and fun, it's like learning a secret code lmfao

What is a weather type that you like that not many others do? Snow. We don't really get dangerous amounts of snow here, ever, so I know that plays a big role in me loving it, but still, it's so pretty!!

How important is music in your life? VERY

Do you ever get mad at people for not having the same opinion as you (i.e. Abortion being wrong/right, meat-eating being wrong/right)? ONLY if these opinions are attacking/invalidating/dictating people. Because then it's not just an opinion: you're hurting and in MANY cases restraining the rights of others. THEN I'm mad.

If you like to take pictures, what is your motivation? With nature, it's mostly to show others just how fucking gorgeous and worthy of protection it is. If I'm taking pictures of people, it's definitely to try to capture that memory as accurately as I can so when I or others look back at it, they can basically experience it again.

What are some weird things about you? Definitely how I eat breakfast biscuits lol (I take it apart and eat each thing individually), I don't like watching TV by myself (and even with other people I often don't enjoy it), I have super fucking dry eyebrows (like, skin flakes off), people regularly pick fun at how picky I am with food and things I can't stand, I hate being on the beach (unless I'm in the water), I love a lot of animals people don't and/or are scared of, I've never been drunk (which I absolutely don't consider to be a bad thing, but c'mon, that's not something you really see in 27-year-olds), my hair mindboggles professional hairdressers with how it reacts to attempts to color it, and apparently I have 20/20 vision in my left eye but my right is astonishingly severe in vision. Oh, speaking of eyes, apparently I have pretty large pupils too, like there have been a number of times at the eye doctor where they didn't even need to dilate them because they're often already large enough.

Who do you know personally that has a nice singing voice? Girt.

Would you ever wear snake-skin pants, or other animal clothing? Absolutely, positively not.

Do you like to have your own space? Are you independent? Yes, but no, I am extremely dependent probably to the point of disorder and I hate it.

If you met your favorite musician, what would you ask him/her? oh fuck idk

Do you think video games cause people to become violent? lol no, this is so fucking dumb

What was the last word you learned? Huh I actually can't remember, but it was recent.

[tabsterfm]

So, since I have been getting back into the Pokemon TCG and just Pokemon in general now that a new game is out, I wondered to myself "what would be the most "me" team I could do within certain limitations?" And so, I did just that!

As you can see above, each 'mon has a title under it which signify why it is important to be in my party. To explain them in brief:

-The Bro For Life: The "starter" Pokemon on the lot that I could NEVER do without -The Surfer: A 'mon that is used as means of ocean travel. Plus I EXTREMELY love marine creatures- I think my favorite typing in Pokemon has to be water because of that -The Flyer: A 'mon that is used as means of air travel -The Avian: The bird of the group. I fucking love me a good bird, flying or not -The Insect/Arachnid: I also love me some bugs and spiders -The Fossil: I also love me some ancient shit -The Dragon: Love me dragons -The Magician: I absolutely love everything about magic, so having a 'mon I can have some magic fun with would be great! -The Singer and The Dancer: While I am shy about it, I love doing both, so having 'mons I can do this with would also be great (addmitively these were added last minute when I made certain connections about what 'mons I've picked)

As you can see, that is way more than just 6 titles, so some 'mons have more than one- genius, I know.

Anyways, about time I talked about why I picked who I picked, yeah?

Galarian Slowbro: Ever since I played Heartgold as my first ever Pokemon game and went through the Slowpoke Well, the Slowpoke line instantly won my heart and it doesn't seem like they're ever letting go anytime soon.

I don't know if anything in my childhood subconsciously influenced Slowbro specifically being my favorite of the two evolutions, but it all worked out in the end because it gets a lot of good shit, mainly talking about the mega and the Galarian form.

Now, one might ask "why the Galarian version specifically? Are you a Megaman fan or something?" Well, yes, but that doesn't have anything to do with it. The way I see it, if Pokemon were real and the events of this timeline still happened (mainly America splitting from Britain), I feel like I would more than likely have a Galarian Slowpoke than a normal one if that makes sense. Besides that, there is more to love. I love that it is purple, one of my favorite colors, and I love that it is associated with spices. I am sad that we live in the timeline where only normal Slowbro got a Mega evolution, but I have the perfect idea for my own Mega Galarian Slowbro.

Lapras: As I mentioned before, I am a SUCKER for marine creatures. I am even more of a sucker for Plesiosaurs in particular. They are some of my favorite sea AND ancient creatures of all time- fuck, Plesiomon is my favorite Digimon, after all. I also really love its singing aspect to it- I love the idea of humming a little tune with it as we sailed the seven seas together. I will forever be sad that Lapras got a gigantamax instead of a mega (can you tell what my favorite gimmick was?), but ooooh weeeell.

Delphox: When I was making this list, I put a straight BAN on starters from making any sort of appearance- otherwise it woulda just been every bird starter, Feraligatr, and Torterra or something like that. Here's the thing, though: to my knowledge, there just AIN'T a magic rep out there like Delphox: the design making it look like it's wearing a magic robe, the fact that it uses a literal WAND, LIKE, HELLO??? It is just so me-core that I just, could no resist.

Oricorio: Good lord the Alolan region had some absolute bangers, and these birds are one of them. I just LOVE the idea of a bird 'mon having it's theme be around dancing, something a lot of them do to find a mate. Not only that, but I love that they come in many different flavors of dance and the fact that they can form-change based on what pollen they eat from, something that would encourage me to plant specific plants in a garden or something like that. Another thing I like is that they are small lil buggers, like a cockatoo or a pigeon, so it would be more "realistic" to have them around as a house pet/companion as opposed to those really massive, badass birds that would need their own space to thrive in. Like, I could build a little stage for my Oricorio out of cardboard or something and have them peform on it for fun, and, with Lapras on the team, have her sing for the Oricorio to dance to! A perfect pairing, really.

Araquanid: Yet another Alolan banger! I love me bugs and spiders, as I mentioned above. What I also love is when they are IN THE FUCKING WATEEEERRRRR YEAH BAYBEEEEE!!! Listen, even if Araquanid wasn't a water spider, it would still probably be my favorite spider 'mon next to Galvantula due to how badass it looks, but the aquatic elements of it IS why it's my favorite spider 'mon as of now. Like, I fucking love the idea of my Araquanid hitching a ride under my lapras as we go on some treasure hunt or something, like that idea just fucking rocks.

Admittedly, I REALLY wanted to give this slot to Volcarona because holy fuck is that one amazing design, but I already had two other fire types (counting Oricorio's ) already, and the only type I'd wanna have more than three of is either water or flying. You're still near and dear to my heart, Volcarona, but this spider beat you out by a hair.

Dragapult: Holy. Fucking. Shit. Never in my LIFE would I have EVER expected a 'mon to ever surpass Kommo-o or Garchomp. Everything about this 'mon is fucking amazing- for starters, it is based on an extinct group of amphibians with a unique sort of skull- you already know how I feel about those sorts of creatures. Thee COOLEST part about this design is that, due to the amphibians' tail bones never being found, the tail of Dragapult is transparent. Like, holy fuck!!! I also just love it's stealth-bomber design motif and how the holes on it's head is a two-way reference: one to just simple missile-launchers on planes and one to how certain amphibians have holes in them where they keep their young. I can go on and on about the little details that I love, but I think I've said enough

And that's why I love the 'mons I have strapped into my team! Hopefully y'all enjoyed me rambling on for THAT LONG about something I like- it feels really nice to be able to do something like this. Until next time!

P.S. I just realized that my Pokemon team could be sorted by color and almost make a perfect rainbow, so I've decided to call my crew "The Rainbow Line" based on Ressha Sentai ToQger because I love trains and traveling in general and two of my 'mons help with traveling. I guess if I were a champion or a gym leader with no type theming, this would be the order I use my mons, which is perfect since it means my ace will always be the last one I use as a final horah to my party. I love when things just work out like that.

[deanwasalwaysbi]

Dean Reacting to People Bringing up John Winchester

Sam: “Well I'll tell you one thing. We're lucky we had Dad.” Dean: “Well I never thought I'd hear you say that.” Sam: “Well, it coulda gone a whole other way after Mom. A little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we woulda had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out ok. Thanks to him.”

Dean: “All things considered.”   1x14

Dean: “Not that I blamed him. He gave me an order and I didn’t listen. I almost got you killed.” Sam: “You were just a kid.” Dean: “Don't. Don't. Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it.”    1x18  

Dream Dean: “Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument. Your own father didn't care whether you lived or died. Why should you?” Dean: “My father was an obsessed bastard!    All that crap he dumped on me, about protecting Sam! That was his crap. He's the one who couldn't protect his family. He- He's the one who let Mom die. - who wasn't there for Sam. I always was! He wasn't fair! I didn't deserve what he put on me.”   3x10  

Mary: “He was a great father”     12x02

Dean: “You know, when you died, it changed Dad. I mean he was hell-bent on finding out what happened. The hunter life, it just took him over.”   12x02

Lee: “I always liked that crusty son of a bitch.”   15x07

[thesoulesscollection]

Triple Threat Found Parents Au

Requested One-Shot: Now I just decided to put the most focus on the Triple Threat trio and decided to write out the startling aftermath of them figuring out their family lineage. This request took me a while to finish. I struggled figuring out what I should write for it. Again though I hope you all like it.

Tw/Tags: Triple Threat Timeline/Au, Minor Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Supportive Friendships, Complicated Familial Relationships, Background/Referenced Childhood Trauma & Hopeful/Bittersweet Ending

Charles: Galeforce's Son

Ellie: Reginald & Right's Daughter

Henry: Terrence's Son

Request: I had this weird request for a story where Henry, Ellie and Charles were each a child of one of the older characters, (Like Charles being Galeforce's son, Ellie being RHM's daughter, Henry being Reggie and/or Terrence's son, ETC.) And the idea in my head was that Charles got to grow up with his parent, while Henry grew up not knowing who his family was, and ellie being separated from hers. The trio team up on a mission to stop the toppats and learn that Henry and Ellie have relatives in some of the characters. Then this makes it harder for them to take the characters to take them down and they try to let their families know who they are. Kind of an angst and reunion kind of dealio. Sorry for this strange idea.

***

Nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet in swelling anxiety Charles looked up at his two closest friends, "I. I can't believe it" 

"Me neither" 

As the pilot curiously looked over at Ellie, he noticed how she nibbled at her lips unsure what to say next and how to react even after her soft whispered reply. 

"I woulda never thought this would ever happen, y'know?" He said shyly, very uncharacteristic of him as he shrugged his shoulders while twisting the smooth fabric of his jacket with his hands. "That you guys would find your parents. After so long being separated. They're really something, huh?" 

Unsure whether to further the discussion Charles turned his worried eyes onto the ex-thief, Henry who stayed eerily silent through it all. 

"Are you alright, Henry?" Ellie decided to ask the inevitable question for both of them to Charles' inner relief comforting their worries. "I… Get this might be a bit much and we can always change the topic if you want? It's totally fine with us"

"N-no… No, it's fine. I'm just trying to comprehend this whole entire thing. All my life I never knew my parents, who they were, and now I know. It's just became much more confusing than before" 

"I understand, Henry" The redhead calmly spoke, taking a few cautious steps towards the man although kept her distance for his sake. "I was separated from my own when I was far too young. I didn't believe mine would be the current leader and his right hand. Not shocking, I guess. Kinda do look like the angry red-headed guy especially?" 

"And then I never would've thought I'd be the son of the previous leader. Possibly known to be the worst one of them all. Someone who's known to be awful. A backstabbing slimy lowlife criminal who weaseled his way into a title of immense power. It doesn't bring a whole lot of hope in me" 

"Hen, c'mon man don't say that now. We know you. You're better than that. Then whether it's true or not is up for debate and I'm not saying he's really bad or anything. Ellie and me know that and you most certainly know it" 

"You don't know that. We all know the saying here that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree… And Charles at least you had your father, who he was, and had a happy childhood with him. We didn't. I most certainly was treated like trash with nothing going for me. We were left in the dark about so many things"

Charles' face crumpled, shameful guilt taking hold in full force before stubbornly keeping a firm yet comforting trance with the pair, "... I get it. I really do. I had the fortune to have my dad in my life since I was an infant he'd decided to take in. He's like everything to me, the best supportive person around that I can know of. I'm super grateful for it. I still am despite all this. But I think I can try to understand a little what you two are feeling or I think I can? I've been left with the wool over my eyes too. Never knew my past either or anything. I only knew little tidbits because Galeforce would accidentally let it slip out and I may have overheard it. He continues to think I'm a wayward reckless child who can't dare began to understand this or be able to handle it" 

Stuck in the middle between the two men, the two were nearly red-faced in awkward tension before Ellie softly breathed in then out with even succession, managing her composure while taking Henry's bony hand in her own while the other held the pilot's who was totally engulfed by hers. 

"That's not start an argument over this, okay, please. It's sure to get ridiculous and we're supposed to be here for one another, right guys?" 

The men nodded in unison, Charles was obviously trying to resist pouting, agitated likely whereas Henry kept a closed off near unapproachable look.

"Okay. We'll try our best, El" Henry murmured, free hand dragging his face down as he gently squeezes Ellie's hand and then takes a quick glance over at Charles apologetic without needing to say anything. "Maybe we should talk to them about it then? There's many things they left unanswered for us. It's only fair" 

Nodding in agreement, very antsy, unable to keep still Charles in a seemingly better mood than he was a moment ago, "Yeah. We should. All of us together. I know you guys need to know more than I do and I think it may be wise to possibly get them together alone in one area privately. So we can properly question them more thoroughly. Clearly they all know one another and shared a past together" 

"Sounds like a plan"