#to whoever made this playlist: I owe you

[delizbin]

I wanna be defined by the things that I love

Not the things I hate

Not the things that I'm afraid of

Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night

I, I just think that

You are what you love

#caption is the song daylight by the one and only queen Taylor Swift #that song is so them #when i have no ideas for the captions i write ts lyrics #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #haymitch x effie #hayffie #whatever i sold my soul to them apparently #i freaking can’t #to whoever made this playlist: I owe you #i seriously need to reread the books #once you read the book with the knowledge you own from the movies about those two is deadly over #I’m waffling #thg fanart #hayffie fanart

[bridegroom]

sitting in the beer garden trying to be normal while the soundtrack to my teenage life plays

#lamb.txt #me when i fucking GET whoever made that playlist #owed compensation for hearing when you were young in public

[ambrosykim]

currently listening to a maxwell/mc playlist and i am immediately transported back to five years ago

#early 2019 was peak choices obsession it was so bad #yes i dont talk about choices much but im currently hyperfixating on it so ✌ #you never forget your roots!!!!!! #also to whoever made that playlist i owe you my life #spotify user el_dritchknight i am sending u roses as a token of my affection #maxwell x mc #nett rambles

[macfrog]

you'll hurt me if you don't trust me sex on fire chapter eight

super special sparkly shoutout to @chloeangelic ✨💛✨ whose influence inspired a whole load of intimacy in this. it is, unashamedly, eleven thousand words of sheer self-indulgence. so. love u guys. see u soon

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you’re unwell. joel makes you feel better. until he doesn’t.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, cursing, sugardaddy!joel, softsoftsoft!joel, they eat chinese food together, reader has her period + mention/description of used tampon, discussion of abandonment/absent parents & parental death, discussion of cheating, lying, thigh riding, unprotected piv period shower sex (that is a mouthful thatswhatshesaid), VERY needy reader, SLIGHT dacryphilia (kinda not really?), creampie, aftercare joel, praise kink, daddy kink, angst & fluff & angst all over again

word count: 11k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

Martha had been pretty good about it. She’d watched you near-doubled in pain most of yesterday, hobbling to the kitchen every four hours to top up on pain meds. She knew you weren’t making it up. She made a conservative two jokes about you calling in this morning, and then told you to rest up. She’d let Joel know you’d be back tomorrow.

“You owe me, though. Joel’s got that shareholders meeting today. If I’m forced to sit in with him ‘n his cronies talkin’ numbers and takin’ notes, sweetheart, all so you can catch up on The Bachelorette…”

Alright. Three jokes.

You hang up and slide the phone back across your nightstand; roll over and stuff a pillow between your thighs as if that’ll do anything against the dull throb gnawing at your belly. Your shades are tilted upward, shrinking your bedroom into a foggy gray save for the shards of light which split across the ceiling.

There’s a heavy ache tugging behind your eyes, an irritating weight which shoves you into the arms of sleep and then pulls you back by the hair before you’re taken off by it. You’re dozing, fingertips massaging your eyelids and stretching the skin back and forth when the doorbell slices the stillness of your apartment in two, shrill in your sleep-deprived ears.

You ignore it at first. Fuck that. Fuck whoever that is. You’re not planning on leaving your cocoon today unless it’s to go pee, grab a snack, or maybe if you lose the remote in your sheets.

But it rings out again. Twice, this time. And in a blur of hormonal rage, you whip the sheets back, throw yourself out of bed and stagger down the hallway. You straighten up only enough to peer through the peephole, your palms pressed to the back of the door, and that’s when you see him.

He’s cradling a brown bag in his left arm, a second dangling from his wrist. His head is huge in comparison to his body, owing to the distorted fisheye glass. He shifts from foot to foot impatiently, awkwardly glancing down the hall. You’d recognize that jawline fucking anywhere.

Your breath pushes nervously against the door. You click the lock and curl around the heavy wood, your fingers clamping on the edge.

The two of you eye one another up and down before Joel speaks.

“Hi, darlin’.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Martha said you were sick?”

You pause. Look down to the bunch of wild flowers sat in the crook of his elbow, and then back up to his face, painted with – what is it – concern? There are lines you rarely see when he’s looking at you, carved deep between his brows.

A fire strikes in your belly.

“…I’m fine. I’m – I’m all good. Just – feeling a little…”

“What is it? Is it the flu? I brought flu stuff.” He nods into the bag, and reaches inside for a box of cold tablets and a pack of tissues. He tosses them across the threshold and you catch them, holding them close against your shoulder.

You smile, trying to hold back on a laugh, but also because what the fuck? He’s so sweet. The flames lick at the bottom of your lungs.

“It’s not…it’s not the flu, no.”

Joel nods, looking back into the bag. “Good thing I also brought these, then.”

He tilts it forward and you unhook from the door, leaning over to peer in. A box of Tampax, two bottles of painkillers, green packets of face masks and floral sachets of herbal teas. You fish one out.

“Chamomile,” you muse, pouting.

He shrugs. “Lady at the store said it’s a good muscle relaxant, I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have a meeting today?”

“Cancelled it. You freaked me out.”

Your heart knocks on your chest wall. Did you fucking hear that? You freaked him out. You gulp in response. Swallow hard to shut it the hell up.

“So, Martha’s in the office by herself?”

“She’s a big girl. Told her she could leave early if she got my to-do list done. I give it until one,” he mutters, glancing down at his watch. “Oh,” he says then, spotting the brush of green and burst of purple in his arm, “got you these. I don’t know what you like yet, but…”

Yet. Yet yet yet.

You take the posy delicately between your fingers, as if it might fall apart at the mere touch of your hand. The brown paper crinkles as it lifts from Joel’s arm, and you tilt them in the hallway’s milky light.

The sprigs shoot in wild directions, tangling and twisting around one another. Daisies, lazy in their climb, swirling around the gentle brush of lavender, wrapped tightly to some other flower you don’t recognize. They’re tied together in a neat, white lace bow.

You imagine Joel stood in the middle of some fragrant florist, rotating on the spot. Dumbfounded before some assistant in a flowing skirt and tinkling bracelets sweeps over to him. I don’t know what she likes – yet, he tells them. And your heart screams into the pillow of muscle surrounding it.

“Thank you.” The smile on your lips threatens to break into a grin. At the same time, a shot of pain rips across your belly. “Come in,” you groan through a wince, taking his shirt in your fist and pulling him inside.

Your apartment is probably a couple years too small for you. You’ve accumulated so much in the time you’ve lived here that you could do with finding a bigger place – but you’re comfortable. It feels like home, when nowhere did for so long. It’s snug, and humble, and as you lead him down your hallway, you imagine you’re feeling how Joel probably did when he showed you around his childhood home.

Your cheeks flush with something a little blunter than embarrassment, but prickled with nerves. Your living room rolls its eyes inward, every object looking over in suspicion and wonder. Who the hell is this man, in your space, armed with toiletries and a ten-grand watch on his wrist?

You pause by the sink, filling a glass with water for the flowers. Your teeth bite down on your lip. There are dishes on the counter, there’s laundry piled on stools, blankets and cushions strewn messily across your couch. Joel shakes his head when you apologize, holds a palm up when you try to explain how you’d gotten home from work last night and gone straight to bed. I haven’t had the energy to clean.

He won’t hear it. Says he’s not here to see your clean apartment. Here to see you.

He sets the bags on the worktop and looks around the room. Blinks from the sheer curtains guarding the balcony doors, to the pastel candles on your coffee table. Smiles when he notices the Pretty Woman poster framed above the couch.

“What?” you ask, when his eyes finally land back on you. You tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it further down your bare thighs.

“Nothin’. Just – knew there was somethin’ more to you.”

You fold your arms and rock forward gently on the balls of your feet. Your head tilts. Your brows knit.

Joel clarifies, “I knew you weren’t as put together as you pretend to be at work. This – looks like your place. That’s all.”

“Oh, yeah? ‘n what does my place look like?

His cheeks lift. “Little all over the place. Little surprising. But bright. Cozy. You.”

“Bright ‘n cozy,” you echo.

He nods. Purses his lips, then adds, “And great in bed.”

You cough a laugh, reach out to shove his arm, and he catches your hand. He reels you in against his body and cups your head, fixing some flyaway strands of hair. You stare up at him, eyelashes slowly blinking him in and out of focus. His mottled beard and hazel eyes. The flecks of honeydew and amber swimming around his pupil. His shirt wrinkles beneath your chin.

“You hungry?” he asks, voice rumbling through his chest. You seem to understand the vibrations sooner than the words, these days. He reaches for the handles of the white bag, sliding it over towards you. “I brought lunch.”

“You brought lunch.” You scoff, grinning to yourself. It quickly fades, though, when your hand lowers into the bag and meets a warm, flat surface – two halves of a folded lid. Your brows pull. “You brought…”

Joel smiles as you lift the box, popping it open. Hot steam escapes the minute the lid folds back.

“Chinese okay? I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise by callin’ to ask what you wanted. I can run out and grab somethin’ else if you’re not –”

“How did you know to get…?” Your voice whittles to nothing as you stare down at the fresh-cooked meal, the bed of greasy noodles mixed with fried vegetables. Your tongue swipes at the corners of your mouth.

“’cause I know you,” Joel says, digging for a second box from the bag. “Anytime you’re stressed with work, anytime I give you a hard day, that’s what you order in for lunch, right?” He nods to the container as he tosses an egg roll into his mouth.

You giggle, lifting the box to hide your swollen cheeks. Your heartbeat hammers below your jaw.

“Right?” Joel laughs. “Chow mein? I’m right, ain’t I? You know I’m right.”

He nudges against you, taking his own lunch from the bag, and casts a familiar glance – the same one you saw a few days ago in Lavender Oaks. Like the decades-old mask slips just for a second and suddenly, a younger, shyer Joel shines through. He’s almost imperceptible, almost concealed by the cocky smirk and witty remarks of his older self, but you’ve seen him once, and now – he’s impossible to lose sight of.

“You’re weird,” you note, spinning off towards your bedroom.

Joel’s hot at your heels. “I’m weird?”

“Uhuh. For noticing that.”

He snorts, and then you feel a slap to your ass cheek. “Nice underwear, by the way. Who’d you steal them from?” he murmurs close to your ear, averting your gaze when you turn back, beaming.

You pad across the soft rug to your bed, dropping down and pulling the sheets back to make room for Joel. He’s setting his food down. You think to offer him a change of clothes – something more comfortable than a dress shirt and suit trousers – but the best you’d have is an oversized tee, and not much else.

The thought almost dizzies you. Joel, in his boxers and a t-shirt from your wardrobe. A shirt that smells like you, feels like you, belongs to you. A piece of you, hung from his shoulders like it was always meant to be shared between you. The way it’d still smell of him even after the sun had set and he’d peeled it from his body, folded it into a pile at the end of your bed and left in his button up.

He sits on the edge of your mattress to kick his shoes off, and marvels some more at the room just like he did in the kitchen. The fire in your chest is slowly turning your lungs to ash, stealing breath each time his dimples appear – squinting at the framed photographs on your dresser, tilting his head to read the titles of the books on your shelves.

When he catches sight of the paint-splattered easel in the corner, he turns back. Your eyes are already locked back on your chow mein, refusing to meet his. He doesn’t say anything. Just shuffles up against the headboard, nudges your knee with his own.

“You get that at the concert?” he asks, eyes a little south of yours.

You glance down. You’re wearing an old Queen tour tee, graphic print accompanied by 1986 in multicolored lettering. A little before your grand entrance on the planet. A little after Joel’s.

“Rod’s Retro, eastside,” you reply. “You find some cool stuff in there, Mr. CEO.”

Joel’s chin lifts, considering. “Hm,” he says, “you gonna take me someday?”

You nod. Maybe a little too eagerly. It doesn’t feel like you ought to care. “Um, yes. You would fucking love it. Half my wardrobe is thrifted.”

He nods once – banking the information. “Every day, I learn somethin’ new.”

“Shut up,” you quip, kicking him gently. “How come I never get to learn anything new about you?”

He shrugs, chewing. “Self-absorbed.”

You kick him for real this time. He laughs into his takeout box.

“I’m messing with you. You know plenty about me. You met my mom the other day, for cryin’ out loud.”

“Not enough. Don’t know where you get all your clothes from, or what your comfort food is.”

He replies through a mouthful of chop suey. “Then, ask.”

Your voice is high, defensive. “No. That’s too easy.”

Joel snorts.

You reach for the remote and click the screen opposite to life. Joel lifts his arm to let you sink against his body, and you flick through the channels. Shark Tank, Grey’s Anatomy, Wendy fucking Williams, and then –

You gasp. Joel looks up from his food. His brows arch, eyes flitting from you to the screen. You swear a groan escapes from his lips. You feel the thunder against your ear.

“You ever seen it?”

“Dirty Dancing? Yeah, I’ve seen Dirty Dancing, pretty girl.”

“You probably saw it at the movies, right? When it came out? In the eighties?”

“Careful.”

You smile. “What did you think of it?”

Joel’s shoulders lift. His eyes are back on the screen. Be My Baby is crooning from the TV. “I liked Patrick Swayze,” he says.

You watch him, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn’t, you lean closer. “You…you liked Patrick Swayze?”

“Yeah,” Joel says, like it’s obvious. He turns back to you, one eyebrow raised. “He was cool. You don’t like ‘im in it?”

“No, I like Patrick Swayze,” you tell him. “Just…if that’s all you like about it, then…we might have a problem.”

He scoffs. “I don’t remember much of it, to tell you the truth.”

“Good. We’re watching it.”

Your head moves with his chest as he sucks in a deep, defeated breath. “Baby, I –”

“Ah,” you tap the remote on his knuckles, “you remember the Baby part.”

With a laugh which sounds an awful lot like approval and a grunt which sounds an awful lot like Alright, Joel sinks lower into the mattress. You drape your legs across his, and when he finishes eating, his fingers draw round shapes on your hot skin, daring past the hem of his own boxers on your thighs.

Somewhere around the lake scene, you notice your hand intertwined with his. Locked together, surfing over one another, squeezing and then loosening. Tracing the curve of each other’s palms and learning the lines scored into the skin. Fingertips becoming fluent in the landscape of one another’s bodies. Mapping them, like you’re afraid to forget.

Your eyes glass over, whether from fatigue, or from the now smoldering fire inside you, or from something harder to pinpoint. Your head feels heavy, leaning on Joel’s chest, listening to the drum of his heart against your ear. It sounds familiar, like you’ve known it forever. Like you can almost hear the whisperings between the soft thudding.

You start when you feel him moving beneath you. He groans, stretches his arms, and then snakes them around your body. The end credits are rolling. The movie’s over. You weren’t asleep, but you missed half of it. Your mind elsewhere – though you have no idea where.

Maybe you do. Maybe that’s not something you can bear – yet. Yet yet yet.

You crane your neck and look up to your boss. He’s already staring right back at you. His eyes widen.

“What did you think?” you ask sleepily.

He sniffs. “It’s good. Very politically charged. Lotsa Swayze.”

Your lips curve, cheek nuzzles into his shirt. “Very us, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Especially that part in the water. When he –” his arms lift, holding an invisible Baby up – “y’know? You ‘n me, we do that all the time.”

“I hate you.”

He tightens his grip around your shoulders and lifts you closer, smiling. You think, when his eyes dart for half a second to your lips, that he might kiss you. You think you want him to. But he simply asks, “You want some tea?” and reaches over to swipe the empty containers from your nightstand.

You nod. “I’ll come help.”

“I got it,” he assures in that Southern gentleman tone, steady hand on your thigh as he slips out of bed.

“You don’t even know where the mugs are.”

Joel considers this for all of five seconds. Shrugs. Tells you, “I’ll figure it out,” and disappears through to the kitchen.

You lay back and close your eyes, counting each cupboard door opening and then immediately falling shut as he makes his way around the place, seeking out your collection of mugs. When he eventually opens what must be the right one, you hear him exclaim.

“Ha! First try.”

You snort, bleary eyes opening again to focus on the TV. They’re discussing the Kardashians on The View. Your eyebrows lift in agreement as if you’re sat in the studio with them. They move on to some segment on the president.

Joel returns a few minutes later, two mugs in hand, and passes you the one shaped like a ghost.

“Cute,” you whisper, taking it in both hands.

He flashes you a proud grin as he lays back down, sipping on a black coffee in a faded mug your mom gave you years ago.

You tap your nail against the ceramic in his hands. “World’s Best Daughter.”

“That’s me,” he replies, propping himself up on an elbow. “Your mom get you it?”

Your head drops, eyes staring at him from under low brows. “No. My fucking neighbor did.”

He stares back as he lifts the mug to his lips. They melt in a kiss against the ceramic. When he pulls it away again, he swallows, and says, “You’re close to her.”

“My neighbor? Yeah, she lives right next door.”

“Easy, smartass.”

You flash him a smug grin, which dissolves as quickly as you notice his eyes lingering on the half-heart charm around your neck. By instinct, your fingers clutch the smooth gold, as if protecting the smallest part of yourself from him. The only part you’ve never let him in on.

But there’s something in his eye – something that feels less like a spotlight and more like a warm fire. Sharing secrets muted by the sputtering of wood, held safely by the round rusty glow of the flames. Something kinder. Something protective.

“Yeah,” you say, voice crackling, “we’re closer ‘n anyone. Been through a lot together.”

Joel nods. He knew that already. “I’ll bet, pretty girl.”

And in typical Joel fashion, he doesn’t press for any more than you willingly offer. A part of you kind of wants him to ask more, wants him to push you. A weight jumps at the bottom of your chest, like the words fail to launch. And before you can retry, before you can confess more of yourself into his hands, he says –

“Ask me som’.”

You stall, and look at him intently. “What?”

“Anything you want. Free pass.”

Your cheeks swell. “What do you mean?”

 “If we’re sharin’ things, ‘s only fair we both do.”

“I don’t – We don’t have to –”

“Ask me,” he says slowly, eyebrows twitching.

“O-kay…”

You push a deep breath from your lips, cheeks globing as you scan around the room for inspiration. Something casual enough that you can ask it with ease, but deep enough that he’ll give you an answer worth sinking your teeth into. Something you don’t know about him; light enough to roll off your tongue, and then heavy when it lands in your palms.

Your gaze orbits back to his patient form and you ask, “How did you get the money to start your company?”

Joel seems to feel the weight of it when he catches it. Heavy, rather than light. Deep, rather than casual. He opens his mouth, runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek before he answers. “My, uh…my dad. He had a little bit of money.”

“He invest in it?”

“No, no. He, uh…he left it when he died.”

Your lips pull in a wince. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, and Joel looks up.

“’s okay, baby,” he replies, with a soft chuckle that makes the loose collar of his shirt quiver. He pushes some hair out of your face, settles his hand on your knee.

You hook two fingers around his thumb. He squeezes lightly.

“He musta loved you a lot. Leavin’ you so much.”

Another deep breath. His body stiffens. You think to unlock your fingers and take his hand properly, comfort him, maybe – but he’s already lifting it, scratching his beard with his thumb. He watches a bubble swirl around in his mug until it disappears with a pop into the dark coffee, and he finally looks up.

“It’s kinda…complicated. He and my mom – they were married for years, ‘n he ended up…” Joel swallows. His jaw clenches. “He cheated on her. Had this mistress for months. Mom found out through a friend of hers. She kicked him out of the house, but they never divorced. Just stayed separated until he died, ‘n then he left all his money to her.”

“To your mom?”

Joel nods. “She didn’t want a penny of it. Hated the man ‘til the day he died ‘n beyond.”

And you believe it. Ruth Miller was kind, warm and charming to you. She laughed with you, she smiled like she’d known you her whole life, she held your hands and she whispered secrets about Joel in your ear – purposefully to embarrass him, to make that bashful side turn its head again.

But she was sharp. She was quick, and you knew within the first five minutes of meeting her exactly where Joel got his wit and his mind. You can see her, clear as day, guarding the front porch of that little white house – one hand on her hip and the other pointing in the direction her cheating husband was to head.

Just as clear, you can see her stood over that same husband’s grave, waving her fist and tearing his will into confetti. It brings something of a smile to your face. Sad, sympathetic, but…impressed.

“Wow…So she – she gave it to you? And you – put it into the company?”

He shrugs, grip tightening around the mug. “When I started makin’ money, I paid off the mortgage on her house, managed to convince her to retire early. Got her into a good retirement home, once she was ready for it.”

Smart guy.

A calm quiet falls between you. Joel turns to watch the commercials on TV. Your chest fills with a need to ask him something – a feeling all too familiar whenever you’re around him. Only him. A weight on your mind, a bubbling which starts in your stomach and rises up until it’s practically pushing the words out over your tongue.

“Your dad – how do you not hate him?”

He turns back. Your eyes are stinging. He notices. Holds his palm out, and your fingers instantly lace through his. Your nails find those same valleys, the grooves you’d traced while Swayze and Grey mamboed.

Joel stares up at you, face suddenly tight with worry. He knows there’s something loaded behind your question. Knows you’re asking for something more than another jigsaw piece of him. You’re doing it again. You’re freakin’ him out.

“I…” He falls quiet, looks between your eyes at the pearly tears which form in the corners, the way your face sets to stone. He glances down at your necklace again, and shakes his head softly. “I spent a long time hatin’ him, baby. Changed nothin’. He did what he did. He was a scumbag.”

The answer melts your angry frame, body folding and sinking further into your pillows. You tug the bedsheet a little closer to your chin, press your lips into the top of the ceramic ghost’s head.

Your voice sounds small, sounds like it doesn’t even come from your chest, when you say, “I think I hate my dad. For what he did.”

Joel finally relaxes. Like he’s finally seen the tiny creature casting the huge, stretched shadow on the wall. “You…Yeah?”

You nod. Stare at the cotton mountain of your legs entangled in his. “Yeah. He just up ‘n left, when things got boring. When I grew up, and my mom got older. Just packed his car, and…I always wonder –” a breath lurches from your chest, “– I always wonder why I wasn’t worth stickin’ around for. Why he just – decided one day to…”

Your voice fails to carry. Joel knows the end of the sentence, anyway.

You’ve never told anybody any of this. Not Blake, not your mom, not any of your friends; you barely even know in yourself how you feel about it – even twelve years later. But the air in the room feels different – feels thicker, like you’re tucked away from the world. The conversation won’t leave your apartment, you know that much. Know that Joel wouldn’t speak of it again, wouldn’t so much as let it cross his own mind, if you asked him not to. And so you let the words tumble from your tongue, let them sit heavy in the space between you.

The space between you, which is now silent, like you’re both preoccupied. Joel, taking in the weight of what you’ve said into strong, safe hands; and you, feeling that same weight lift off of your chest. Until the silence itself feels clunky, and awkward, and you scram to find something to break it up.

“Anyway. Sorry to be a bummer.”

“You ain’t a bummer. Are you kidding?” Joel sighs. “I’m sorry, babygirl. Sorry that happened to you.”

“’s okay. He was just a scumbag, right?”

“Sure sounds it.”

You take a small sip, the tea sugarcoating your lips and flooding over your tongue – the sweet taste ridding them of the bitter memory of your dad. “Your turn,” you hum.

Joel’s head jerks. “No, darlin’, you already told me somethin’. You go again.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“I’m changin’ the rules.”

You try to protest, manage the sound Jo– before his hand lifts and he shushes you.

“That’s what I was gonna ask, anyways. Was gonna ask about you ‘n your dad. Now, go.”

He’s lying. You know it, and you suspect he knows you know it, too. It’s a terrible attempt at a lie, no matter how kind it is. But you’re too tired, a little too in pain to argue back over it. And he’s looking at you again, with that honeycomb twinkle in his eye, that Joel look which stirs something in you every time he shows you it.

You sigh, accepting defeat, and rack your brain for something else you want him to talk about.

“Alright, uh…What about your brother? He didn’t want any of your dad’s money?”

Joel’s face twists into something of a grimace. You instantly regret bringing it up.

“Touchy subject?” you ask, already coming up with five new, two-dimensional questions to ask in place of that one. Who was your first kiss and what was your first car and when did you find your first gray hair and what’s your mom’s maiden name and –

But you don’t need them.

Joel says, “Not with you,” and tilts his head, like measuring up his answer. He takes his time letting it filter down to his lips, and you reckon you’ve a good idea of why.

He was closed-off about it in Paris. About his brother. Didn’t say more than three sentences about him. And that was only where a sheep farm was considered. What you’re asking about right now is a hell of a lot deeper and a hell of a lot more difficult than a ranch in the Texan countryside.

“He was always closer to Dad. They used to go out huntin’ every Sunday. Liked the same music, watched the same TV. They were buddies, more ‘n anything. When it turned out my dad had this whole other life behind our backs – behind Tommy’s back – he flipped. Couldn’t take it. He disappeared, never looked back. Just packed his car, moved across the country.”

He’s staring at the TV now, barely blinking. Barely breathing, until you speak and it’s like he remembers he’s in your apartment, on your bed, with you. Not back in time twenty years, watching the dust kick up from under his little brother’s tires.

“He must’ve been pretty mad.”

“Yeah. Tommy’s like that, he’s got a hot head on his shoulders. But it meant leavin’ Mom, y’know? She went through all of that without him. I had to pick up all these broken pieces, juggle all this stuff, ‘n he just got to walk away from it all. And then, when Dad died, he refused to come back still. Left me to organize everything – the money, the funeral. The whole damn thing.”

He flicks his head, resentfully, like trying to dislodge the memory from his mind. Trying to shake it free. When you speak, it seems to soften him. Seems to thaw whatever angry image was frozen behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “that part sucks. I bet it was hard goin’ through all that without him.”

Joel’s head angles towards you. “Not any harder ‘n it was on you, goin’ through what you did.”

“Well…I know I would’ve found it easier if I had a brother or sister. Someone like me, someone who gets it, y’know?”

“Hm. We weren’t all that close to begin with, I guess.”

“You were close enough to want to buy a ranch together.”

He shakes his head again, this time refusing to let the idea in. Turning it away at the door.

“You miss him?”

“It my turn to ask somethin’ yet?” he asks, smiling.

But you’re feeling braver now. He’s answered everything up until now; it feels less like a game and more like…more like he wants to talk about it. Like it’s been pent up all this time and this is the first anyone’s brought it up. A relief to get it off his chest, if nothing else.

You ignore him. Press him. “Do you?”

Joel sighs deep enough that his coffee ripples a little in his mug, and then nods. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like if we were on speaking terms, yeah.”

“So, call him. You have his number?”

“I ain’t gonna call him, baby.”

“Where’s he at?”

“Last I heard, ‘n it was a long time ago now – he was in Wyoming. Married, kid on the way.”

“Call him. You really gonna let that kid grow up without Uncle Joel around?”

“Uncle Joel,” he repeats, laughing now. “He does not want to hear from me, angel. Let it go.”

Joel turns the volume up and settles back into bed, pillows propped behind him. You pass him your empty mug and he slots it alongside his own. As the commercials end and Whoopi Goldberg flashes a grin into the camera, you give it one final shot.

“I’d give anything to have someone who knew and understood me as well as a brother might.”

His hand falls limp against your bedsheets, remote loose in his fingers. You lift his arm, nuzzling underneath it to lean your head by his heart, and he sighs.

Argument won.

“Too many big questions,” you mutter after a while, eyes clinging to the screen. “Ask me somethin’ stupid.”

“Somethin’ stupid,” Joel repeats, and you nod. “Alright. Who’d you lose your virginity to?”

You slap his chest. “Dirtbag!”

He chuckles. “Who was it? Blake?”

“No,” you reply.

“Damn. Who?”

You roll your eyes, though he can’t see you.

But suddenly you feel the loose spaghetti straps of a slip dress over your shoulders, see the off-white glow of three-year-old sneakers crossed at your ankles, chipped pink fingernails tracing the blurry pastel shapes on floral bedsheets. A dry throat, the sanitized backwash of vodka and coke splashing across your tongue. A smash from downstairs – someone’s broken the host’s mom’s best vase.

“Was just this guy I slept with at a house party,” you tell Joel, clearing your throat. “Lisa Tait’s sweet sixteenth. We were in her bedroom, all of us, ‘n everyone started heading downstairs, ‘til it was just me ‘n this dude Jack laying on her bed.”

“You had sex on some other girl’s bed?”

You nod, cringing a little. “I wasn’t even friends with her. Wasn’t even friends with him. Just thought, fuck it. I didn’t wanna go into senior year a virgin ‘n neither did he, I guess.”

“How’d it go?”

The messy, uncomfortable thrusts between your legs. The hand shooting down to guide himself back in. The wet lips running along the shell of your ear, the acidic breath on your cheek. Is that good for you? Yeah, it’s good for me. You sure? I’m sure. Just hurry up.

“Lasted, like, four minutes, thirty seconds.”

Joel’s body jerks. You know he’s staring at the crown of your head. “You timed him?”

“No. He lasted as long as Paradise by Coldplay. It was playin’ downstairs in the living room.”

He tips his head back and laughs to the ceiling. You giggle into his shirt.

“Poor guy,” Joel says, rubbing your shoulder.

“Poor me, more like.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, and pats your head. “Least you’re doin’ alright now.”

You push yourself up from his chest and glare at his satisfied smirk, dodging his thumb when it lifts to clip your chin. “Oh, you’re so smug about it.”

“Are you kidding? For lastin’ longer than five minutes? ‘course I am. Can make you come twice in that time.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. Runs the tip of his tongue along his top lip, corners of his mouth twitching. Something sparks to life inside you.

Your knee lifts, reaching over his waist and planting into the mattress on the opposite side. Joel’s hands come to rest on your thighs, fingers slipping up beneath the black cotton and edging against your hipbones. You bend over him, lips running a wet trail from the base of his neck to his earlobe. His breath falters.

“Prove it, daddy,” you whisper, and his grip tightens.

“Baby,” he warns, voice suddenly sharper. “We don’t have to –”

You ignore him, holding him down by the shoulders. “I want to.”

“I’m just sayin’,” his fingers wrap around your wrists, “’s not why I came here. We can just hang out.”

“We are hanging out,” you tell him. “This is what we do.”

And he seems to agree. Or, at least, accepts defeat, in the form of rolling his hips upwards. His fingers slip through yours, locking at your knuckles, anchoring you to him. You grind against his belt buckle, the hard metal flat against your clit. Joel clocks you instantly.

He sits up. Holds you by the ass on his body until your center is flush with his. You feel him stir beneath your open legs.

He shifts to the edge of the bed, keeping you chest to chest in his lap. Your teeth grit against one another. His lips are warm, they still taste like coffee. You lick at the corners.

“Wanna make yourself feel good on me?” he asks.

A smile as sweet as sugar and laced with something darker spreads across your lips. “You’re best at it, right?”

Joel hums. “Alright,” he says, impressed. His chin lifts; he breathes a laugh as you pepper his jaw with kisses. “Take what you need, angel. ‘s all yours.”

Your knees spread wider. You push down on his swollen crotch, voice catching as he meets you halfway, bucking up into you again. Your clit throbs at the contact, forcing you back up off him.

“D-addy,” you choke, hands suddenly gripping his shoulders.

Joel’s stronger. He takes your waist and replaces you on his lap. “Shh,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear, “’s okay, baby. I got you. We’re gonna make you feel good together, alright? Here.”

He slides you over until your legs are either side of one of his, his thick thigh flat against your most sensitive spot. You dig your nails into his forearms, squeezing hard, but he doesn’t budge. Just looks up at you, holding you steady, and says –

“Go on. Ride it, babygirl.”

You move an inch. The rough fabric catches on the soft of Joel’s underwear. You gasp, relief mixing with arousal and spilling warm and soothing between your legs.

Joel squeezes your hips. “Do it, darlin’. Make yourself feel good. ‘m here, I’ll watch.”

The fabric beneath your pussy is soaked, probably dampening a mark into his pants – and you don’t fucking care. It feels good – the steady weight of him, lifting his thigh as you drag yourself along it, beginning to rock back and forth.

Your eyes are closed, head to the ceiling, grinding your core against his. You can feel him staring. Watching you, his gaze red hot on your already fevered skin. You collapse into him over and over, his body solid as a rock, letting yours fold against him. Liquid in pleasure and feeling.

Your eyes open a sliver and you smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

Joel smirks. “You know how fucking perfect you look right now?”

You nod, forehead coming to lean heavily on his.

He bucks his leg, jaw tight. “How – fucking – beautiful you are? Making yourself come on daddy’s thigh?”

You inhale the words as he speaks them, swallowing them in gasps and parting your lips complacently for more. Keep going. Keep telling me –

“–you my good girl?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, legs starting to give.

“Gonna get me covered in you? Gonna come all fuckin’ over me, babygirl?”

“Daddy, I want –”

“Tell me,” he demands, “tell me what you want.”

His hands are clamped on your waist, guiding you – driving you, more than your weak hips are able to – holding you to him almost painfully. Your body circles messily, becoming sloppier the closer your orgasm draws, quivering when the feeling runs a delicate hand through your hair and plants wet kisses along your neck.

“Want you to fuck me, daddy,” you whine, body rocking again. Your hand lowers to cup the outline of him, rock-hard and restrained beneath linen. He shudders when you squeeze him – looks down to your small hand on the huge bulge in his trousers. “Need to feel you inside me.”

Your own eyes are stuck on the place where your bodies connect, writhing against one another – the wet seam of Joel’s underwear, the folds of his pant leg as you rut against him. Your empty cunt tightens, aching for more against his firm thigh.

“’m gonna, pretty girl,” he says, groaning as you palm him. “‘m gonna fuck you so good. Just give me one first, alright? Let me see you come for me.”

Your body jolts as you come. Hips lose their rhythm; arms lock tight around Joel’s shoulders. And all the while, his lips stay pressed against your ear.

“Look so good, baby,” he coos. “That feel good, angel? Yeah?”

As quickly as your orgasm sent you under, you’re pulling back. You haven’t even regained feeling between your legs, but you’re pushing yourself from his lap, separating your bodies.

Joel sits back, body lightweight when you tug on his wrists and drag him up to height in front of you. You’re backing up across the plush rug, his chest bumping against yours, your fingers fumbling for the buttons of his shirt. Your back hits the bathroom door. Joel twists the handle.

You spill onto the cold tile, attached at the mouth, frantically tearing clothes from each other’s bodies. It’s desperate. It’s burning. It’s almost fucking painful, how bad you need him.

His hands run from your cheeks to the hem of your shirt, hauling it over your torso and tossing it to the counter. You peel the shirt from his shoulders and your bare chest meets his, his hands finding your hips again when he whips them from his sleeves. The white shirt drops to your damp floor, dark, wet marks spreading across the dress fabric.

“Shoot,” you mumble against his lips. “My – bad. Sorry.”

“Don’t – care,” Joel breathes, and his thumbs push beneath his waistband.

You spin on your heel, backing towards the shower and taking him by the jaw with you. He shoves the clothing down his legs, stepping out of them and catching you again in time to drag the underwear from your thighs.

You shift into the shower, both fully naked. Joel spins the nozzle and the warm water rains down between you. His chest quickly soaks, dark hair thicker and blacker, flat against his glistening skin. He tilts his head under the spray and soaks his hair – gives one heavy flick of the head like a wet dog, and you laugh as he pulls you in again.

His hands cup your face as he connects your lips, and then his right drifts down your neck and pushes your tit up, squeezing the sensitive skin in his palm and rolling your firm nipple between two fingers. He lets it drop, runs his hand delicately down your frame, following the curve of your waist to your hips. He cups between your legs.

You come up for air, a sudden realization over your head as though the water runs freezing cold. “Wait,” you start, “I gotta –”

But he’s rubbing gentle circles against your clit, slow, pacing you as the tide of your first orgasm disappears to sea. He doesn’t seem to know, yet – or if he does, he doesn’t give a fuck.

“Joel –”

“I know,” he says, voice low and busy, but still – assuring. Unbothered. He moves his hand lower, surfing along your slit, until his fingers brush the wet string.

Your breathing jumps. He taps the seam of your thigh twice, and your leg tilts aside. Your eyes flit back up, crossing over his chest to fix on his jaw. You feel a flushing heat cross your cheeks, a moment’s hesitation before your fingers clamp around his wrist.

“Hey,” he whispers, and you almost don’t hear him over the running of the shower. He keeps his left hand on your jaw, his right between your legs. He shakes his head once, and takes the string in two fingers, and –

Gently pulls. Only a fraction, and then he pauses. Looks back up at you, a question in his stare.

You nod, exhaling heavily. He pulls again, and he doesn’t stop.

The tampon falls wet and heavy into his palm. His hand leaves your cheek and settles around your waist, leaning both of you out of the shower while he reaches for some toilet paper. Once it’s wrapped in a roll of white tissue and sat on your sink, he moves back into the cubicle.

He runs his palm under the flow; splashes of red swept up, watered down, and carried to the drain along with every last whispering of worry on your lips. Your elbows bend around his neck and he dips his head to kiss you, pushing you carefully into the corner.

“You tell me –” he kisses you, “– if it hurts or it gets too much, you tell me.” His body stands huge, blocking yours from the stream of water. Your back bumps against the shower wall; the shock of the cold tile pushes you closer to Joel.

“Just – fuck me.”

But he’s adamant. “You tell me.”

“I’ll tell you. You’ll know.”

“This is about you feelin’ good.”

“I’ll tell you,” you whine.

“We’re gonna have a word,” Joel instructs, lining up between your legs. He lifts your thigh to sit on his hip. “’n if you say it, I stop. Alright?”

You nod, fervently. “Please –”

His fingers separate your lips; his tip nudges your entrance. “Maple, alright? It gets too much, you say maple. You do that?”

“Joel, if you don’t –”

“Baby.”

“Maple,” you agree, “I’ll say it. Just –”

He pushes in without another word.

How many times has it been, by now? Ten? More than that? Enough for you to know in your mind, if not from trying to learn then simply from muscle memory, exactly how he feels. The curve of his cock, the width of the tip, the length of him as he slots deep inside you.

And yet – every fucking time – you feel so full. Full of him in every sense – your cunt, swollen around him, your lungs, breathing his scent, your every thought and feeling and sense replaced by Joel. Joel Joel Joel Joel –

He’s suffocating. And if you died right now – if you were smothered by him, swaddled until you couldn’t feel anything anymore – you’re not sure you’d be able to tell. Not sure you’d care enough to notice.

He pushes in slow, but deep. So fucking deep. Lets your walls expand around him the first few thrusts, lets your body welcome him back in. His lips press against your temple, his arms cradle your lower back. Your weight bears down on his shoulders and he lifts you, your other leg sitting on his waist. He holds your ass in both hands, begins to bounce you steadily.

“So good, baby,” he says. “Doin’ so good for me. You’re daddy’s girl, ain’t you?”

Your answer leaves your lips in the form of a moan. Something shaped like his name, or maybe some attempt at a response to his question, or maybe something more dangerous.

“My girl,” he repeats, whatever it was you said. “Daddy’s girl.”

Your head rolls back, cushioned by Joel’s hand between you and the tile wall. He knots his fingers in your hair, snaps his hips quick and hard, panting into your shoulder. And there’s a feeling – a stinging, a burning, sweeping across your eyes, and for a second you think it feels like shampoo, like the sharp scratch of soap between your lashes, until you realize it’s –

Tears. The heavy cut of tears, brimming your eyes. Blurring your vision. And with every thrust, every blissful meeting of Joel’s cock and your cervix, every inch he spreads you open wide – they form quicker, and quicker, and quicker. Until they spill down onto your cheeks, and you can’t tell the difference between them and the spray of the shower.

But Joel can. His head lifts from the crook of your neck, his teeth dragging from your skin. He spots your eyelashes, silky and wet, and in one motion, wraps his arm around your head, holds you with the inside of his elbow.

He dips his jaw, presses his lips featherlight to your cheeks, kisses the tears away as quickly as they roll down.

“I –” gasp, “– don’t know –” gasp, “– why I’m –”

Joel’s head shakes as he pulls away. Shuts you up. His answer is simple. You believe it instantly.

“’s okay. You’re okay.”

And right then – you think you understand.

Because you can see him – plain as day. You can see the amounts he cares for you, the limitless needs he can meet for you. There’s a warmth within you, spread throughout your body for him, and you have no fucking idea how to let him feel it. How to have it seep through your skin – so that every time his fingers ghost over your body, he’s met with a blaze strong enough to burn. A fire, big enough and bright enough that it shows him exactly how you feel.

Only him. No one else. A flame only he can see, dancing across your eyes when you look at him. A heat only he can feel. How do you make him feel it? How do you tell him? What combination of words might translate it?

It’s like slamming your fists against a glass barrier. A transparent wall, that allows you only to see him and draw near to him – never to feel him. Not really.

And so, you cry. You cry for him, for yourself. And Joel lets you.

For a little while.

His lips are back on your neck, biting marks into the soaking skin. “’attagirl,” he hums. It rattles your pulse, disturbs the rhythm and sends his own beating through your veins. “So good, baby.”

They soothe you – his lips, and the words which come from them. Soothe the sweet pain between your legs, the swollen ache every time Joel pushes into you. The stretch, the bruising tinge when his tip finds home in the deepest part of your body. Somewhere no one has ever reached, no one has ever found. No one, you feel, has ever been worthy enough to know.

Until him. Until Joel.

That same rhythm – your pulse on his wavelength – begins to flee south. Loops and swirls and dives to where his body connects with yours. Tightens rapidly around your cunt. Your hips grind against his, your thighs clamp on his waist. He starts to falter, hips slipping whether from blood or come or water. And then he’s growling, face burying into your chest as he steadies the two of you with an abrupt palm on the wall, and he stills.

The feeling of his release tips you over. The warmth spreading inside, so far you feel him in your stomach. Your walls contract around him, squeezing until every last drop of him is buried somewhere in you, and you lower one foot to the shower floor.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he pants, pulling his lips from your collarbone. “You okay?”

You nod, head rolling against the wall behind. You’re not crying anymore. The shower whirrs somewhere over Joel’s shoulder. Your chest feels tight. And you feel fucking euphoric.

He gives three more lazy, broken thrusts, pushing his come deeper inside. You both still, mouths curved open, exchanging breath and letting your tongues flick idly against one another.

You hold onto him long after your orgasm is shallow ripples between your legs. Long after the feeling has washed back into the ocean, your high a glimmer of sunlight bursting over the distant horizon, the aftereffects painting your world golden.

You hold onto him, and you let him run his hands slowly up and down your spine, and you sift your weak fingers through his dark hair, and you let him kiss your neck and your shoulders and your collarbones. He leans back; the flow of water cascades between you, carrying away any mess left on your bodies.

And then you let him carry you out of the shower, his tip still inside you, slowly softening. He settles you carefully against your counter, and reaches over for two white towels, caping one around your shoulders and using it to draw your body against his own.

You take the corners from his fingers and he lifts your chin, pushing your lips apart with his tongue. Then he pulls away, allows you to wrap the terry around yourself.

Joel wraps his own towel around his waist, slung loose enough that you can trace the dark hair peppered from his belly button down between his hips.

“You know how inappropriate it is to look at your boss like that?” he tuts.

You hook an arm around his neck and pull him back in. “Then stop lookin’ at me the way you do,” you tease, and he kisses your cheek.

He disappears through to your kitchen, reappears moments later with the box of Tampax, and you don’t even think to laugh or tell him you’ve an open box sat in the cupboard you’re leaning against. You just smile, and accept the clean tampon he holds out in his fingers. He leaves you to get dressed with the door closed over.

He’s sat on your bed when you emerge from the bathroom, holding his soaking shirt between two fingers. “Sorry about, uh…”

“’s alright,” he shrugs, standing up, “I’ll take it from your paycheck.”

His knuckles pinch your nose. You free yourself to place a chaste kiss on his fingers, and pass him the crinkled mess.

“I have something that’ll fit you somewhere,” you mutter, slipping past him as he hangs the shirt by the collar over your door.

“Do me a favor,” Joel’s voice follows, and he takes your wrist. You turn back to face him. “Catch your breath.”

“Huh?” you ask, and his hand comes up to mold around your cheek, the way it always fucking does. As if your bodies were made to be held by one another.

“Just – take a breath. You’re doin’ it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Movin’ at a hundred miles an hour. Breathe for me.”

You scoff, loosening yourself from his grasp to go sift through your wardrobe for something big enough for him. You settle for a Jurassic Park tee – logo faded and cracked, hem a little ragged.

“Rod’s?” he asks, holding the shirt up.

You’re already collapsing onto the mattress. “You bet.”

Joel smirks and tugs it over his head, throwing himself down against the headboard. Your hand wraps around his thigh, lips press soft kisses on the skin. He runs his hand over your hair.

“Are you gonna take a sick day off me for this?” you ask.

He shakes his head simply. “Doctor’s orders. Can’t say nothin’ to that.”

“I didn’t go to the doc–”

His thumb presses against your lips. “You don’t know when to fuckin’ lie, do you?” he whispers. “’s alright, we’ll getcha trained up.”

You snort, shaking yourself free of his hand. Your head settles by his hip, nails draw aimless patterns along the curve of his stomach.

“Need you better by Sunday, anyway,” Joel sighs, “Martha’s son’s birthday party.”

You grunt in response. You forgot about that.

Joel tuts. “Still gotta find him a present. How in the hell do I know what to buy a twelve-year-old?”

Your hand pauses. Neck cranes up to look at him. He’s staring down at you, his trademark glower still recognizable even upside down. Somehow, not sat upright in front of him, the thought seems less scary. Less of a commitment, more a casual suggestion.

“Why don’t we just get ‘im a joint one?”

The hard expression immediately wipes from his face. Replaced by something rounder. He blinks at you. “Really? From – you ‘n me?”

You shrug against his waist. It’s not answer enough for him.

“As in, you n’ me?” he asks.

“Why not?”

Joel’s head shakes. His mouth curves as he considers the thought. But he can’t mask the pang it sends through his body; can’t pretend he’s not covering the way his veins light and his nerves stand to attention by taking your hand in his and squeezing it briskly.

It doesn’t have to mean something. You, Joel, and Deb are the only people from work that Martha invited, and Deb’s bringing her two sons, which means her gift will be from them, too. All it has to mean is that you’re Martha’s co-workers, and figured it’d be cheaper and easier to get one gift over two.

Except – one of you is a millionaire.

It means something. The fact you asked. You’re not asking to save a buck, to make it simpler. You’re asking because you want to wrap some video game in paper Joel picked out; you want him to hold the folds down with one finger while you tear tape with your teeth. You want to sign the card with both of your names, in your handwriting. See how they look paired up.

You ask him because you want to feel the way you think you ought to have felt this entire time. Your body is ablaze. You’re ready to let him feel it. And you ‘n me seems like a pretty good combination of words to start with.

You’re ready. And that’s why you ask him.

Joel’s quiet for as long as you are. You both go to talk at the same time, both noticing how silent the room has fallen while you realize all of those things in real time.

“Sorry, baby, you go,” Joel says, sniffing.

“No, I was just – no, you go. What were you gonna say?”

He smiles. “Was just – wonderin’ what you wanted to get Alan.”

Your mouth opens to answer, and then you pause. “Al–? What?”

“What you wanted to get ‘im,” Joel repeats.

You push yourself up, lean on one hip in front of him. “Yeah, I heard that part. What did you call him?”

“Alan?”

You stare at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Joel stares right back. “Martha’s son.”

“Martha’s son’s name is Henry.”

“No, it fuckin’ ain’t.”

You’re biting back a laugh. “Yes, it fuckin’ is.”

“She calls him Little Al. All the damn time, baby, he’s –”

“That’s because he acts like Alan. Her husband. His father. All the damn time. You gotta be messing with me. Have you been calling him Alan the entire time he’s been alive?”

“No.”

His expression tells you yes.

You’re laughing now. Really laughing. It breaks your words in two, your head tilting back to the ceiling. “You…idiot.”

Joel’s struggling to compose himself, sliding off the bed. “The email she sent out says Alan’s Twelfth Birthday. The hell’s my phone?”

“You think she had a kid in two thousand eleven, and named it Alan? You don’t think they’d call Child Protection on her for that?”

He points a finger, tossing pillows to the bottom of your bed. “That’s disrespectful to the Alans of the world. Where the fuck is my –?”

Your chest swells in a giggle, eyes start to sting with tears. “What do you write in her Christmas cards? To Martha, Alan, and Alan?”

You slap the bed, leaning forward with a deep gasp, trying to catch your fucking breath. Joel’s still stripping the bed, still keeping his own laughter deep in his chest, but it’s quickly crumbling.

“Her email –” he chuckles, “– says Alan’s Twel–”

“She’s fucking with you!” you holler, catching the pillows he throws to you. “She’s fucking with – I’m gonna piss my pants. Martha, Alan, and Alan, oh my fucking –”

“Here,” he finally throws you the phone, “go find it. Find the email. Search the damn word Alan; she uses it every time she talks about him. Jesus Christ, I need a coffee. You want another chamomile tea, Little Miss Smartass?”

He lifts your mug and tilts it in your direction. You nod as you reach for the phone, wiping tears from your cheeks. Joel disappears through to the kitchen.

He clued you in on his passcode a few months after you started. You were still in the office past five o’clock, looking out files he needed for some client visit the following morning. His phone had buzzed, you were nearest it. He lifted his head and nodded to the lit screen.

1-6-9-1, he told you.

It finally made sense only a few days ago, after three years of wondering. Three years of knowing and never asking; a mystery solved. 1691 Maple.

His background was always one of the standard ones. The boring ones. A soft, blue gradient. Usually, his lock screen was too populated by notifications for you to even notice.

But now – it’s changed.

Now, it’s a photo of the view from the terrace in Paris. The pale sunset, faded blue into sweet yellow. The Eiffel Tower carved out in the center. You suck in a deep breath as you swipe texts and emails away to properly study it, figure out exactly where he was standing to take it, and exactly where you might’ve been when he did.

You tap in the four digits and his home screen lays out before you. Only, the background is different – again.

It’s Paris, still, but indoors. Dark wall, an ornate frame pinned to it, housing an amused smirk and soft hands. She’s looking off into the distance, past the photographer. Or maybe – she’s looking at you.

You, stood leaning on the barrier in front of her. The Mona Lisa. Your head tilted towards her, beaming like it’s a photo with your favorite celebrity.

It’s not a big deal. That’s what you tell yourself. It’s his home screen. Only visible if you know his password – and you’re fairly sure that you’re the only one who does. Not even Martha would know that this photo exists, never mind the fact that it’s his wallpaper. It’s not a big fucking deal.

No matter how much you think you want it to be.

You swiftly tap on the email app icon, trying to rid your mind of your own cheesing image. He has thirteen unread emails, all from the last hour. Some you know he’ll forward straight to you and Martha; others look a little more serious. As you’re scrolling down them, you notice a familiar face.

Denis Pelletier. His square-jawed grin flashes back at you from the tiny circle icon beside his name. You tap on the email, and your cheeks lift higher the further down it you read.

I hope your flight home was pleasant, and It was wonderful to take you both around Paris, and Your assistant was very sweet. You breathe a laugh, scrolling down the three-paragraph message urging Joel that if he’s ever back in Paris – if you’re ever back in Paris, both of you – to make sure you let the chauffeur know.

But there’s no email from Martha. At least, none in Joel’s inbox. You return out of the folder and wheel down to his Deleted folder, scrolling past password reset emails, panicked cries for help from Mackley and Tom, past order confirmations for brands you’ve never heard of, when –

A head of hair, more salt than pepper. A bright, unnerving smile, too many dazzling teeth in a mouth too small to house them. A pink sky behind him; candy floss clouds and townhouses glowing orange in the sunset – the building blocks of the Paris skyline.

Jean-Marc. An email – a deleted email – from Jean-Marc.

Dear Joel, It was such a pl… is all you can read from the preview. Your eyes flit up to your door. Joel’s still in the kitchen, humming. You glance back down to his phone.

Would it be invading his privacy? It’s only an email from Jean-Marc. It’s not like you don’t know who he is. What if your thumb slipped? Accidentally opened it? What if your eyes scanned over the text before you quickly swiped back out of the email?

There’s the sound of a drawer rolling closed. A spoon rattling against ceramic. He’s stirring your tea.

You click on the email.

It was such a pleasure to see you again.

You scan over the first paragraph. It’s just Jean-Marc cozying up to Joel. Your nose wrinkles and your lips turn.

I loved meeting your assistant, the next paragraph begins. And your focus is pulled.

I wonder if you had given our conversation any more thought? Whether she might be looking for a new challenge? Something this side of the Atlantic, perhaps?

Your heart skips a beat. A new challenge.

“You want the last egg roll?” Joel calls from the kitchen.

You jolt back to life. “N-no, you have it,” you reply. You hear the rustle of the bag.

I wonder if you might relay the message onto her, Jean-Marc continues. Please give her my email address and phone number.

You quickly pull the screen up, noting the date the message was sent. Three days after you got home from Paris. More than a week ago. You tap on Joel’s response as his footsteps creak back towards your bedroom.

His reply is as short and sweet as the few words he spoke to the Frenchman that Sunday morning.

I’ll pass on your details, he’s written, but unfortunately, my assistant is currently unavailable. Maybe sometime in the future.

Your jaw jerks. Eyes trace the words, over and over. Thumb scrolls up and down the email, making sure you’re reading it right. Joel, making promises he never followed through. Joel – your Joel, the one you pestered for fucking days after Paris over what he’d talked with Jean-Marc about – one hand laced through yours, the other with a vice grip around a secret he never intended to clue you in on.

You. He’d talked about you. They’d probably talked about you the entire fucking meeting, as soon as Joel mentioned you. You can see Jean-Marc’s ears twig; his eyebrows lift with interest. The way he sets his wine glass down, offers Joel another whiskey and invites him to say more.

Joel. Lying. And covering up. And keeping you close by his hip, walking in stride with him out of that fucking penthouse – like you’re on some kind of leash, or something.

The fabric of his underwear on your hips feels claustrophobic; a second layer of skin that rubs against yours like sandpaper. You want to rip them off off off – want to separate yourself from him, peel him from your body and forget the feeling of him as quickly as you seemed to absorb it. Instinct tells you to detach yourself – to remove any trace of him ever having laid eyes on you, never mind touched you.

What a fucking idiot, you think. He doesn’t fucking care about you after all.

You don’t even notice when his form saunters back into the room, when he shoves the door closed with his elbow. There’s a bitter taste on your tongue, sour with disappointment. Acrid with anger. Sick with fear.

Unavail–?

“You find it?” he asks, and you subconsciously clutch the phone to your chest.

“Not yet,” you murmur, watching as he sets the mug back on your nightstand.

His fingers slip through the handle, knuckle nudges the temple of the ghost a little further along the surface, and he straightens, lifting his own mug to his lips.

“’s in there,” he says against the ceramic. He holds a hand out, curls his fingers. “Let’s see.”

“Never mind,” you say, tapping out of the email, out of the folder, out of the app. “I believe you.”

And then –

“…You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

He licks his lips. Holds the mug by his side, fingers gripping the lip. He gives a non-committal shrug of the shoulders.

“No, darlin’. Why would I lie to you?”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #sugardaddy!joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #sex on fire

[grapecaseschoices]

character song tags

@serenpedac tagged me in this a few days ago.

fun facts though i’ve been making ship (and infamous concept albums) playlists of late, i don’t actually have character playlists. 

so ima do a bit of a cop out (to save my mental health) and take from the playlists i already have, which are for og!kendis and og!andy. (ima try to pick songs that work for their if canons)

Andy Yasar

Blood On My Name - The Brother’s Bright (for Erkan Yasar @/exilethegame)

When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you And the whole wide world's comin' after you I've got blood I've got blood on my name When the fires, when the fires are consuming you And your sacred stars won't be guiding you I've got blood I've got blood Blood on my name  

Second Chances - Gregory Alan Isakov (for Andy Yasar @/seraphinitegames)

Me, I'm mumbling in the kitchen for the sun to pay up Lonely is a ring on a cold coffee cup I'm some sick hound Digging for bones If it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone

Kendis Crawford-Louel 

Sea Lion - Sage Francis (for Kendis Lateth @/exilethegame) 

Ma, Ma, look what I did, Ma Look what I did to my hands, I broke em You gave me the stone, gave me the chisel Didn't say how to hold em Didn't say give away every piece of the puzzle Till I was left with nothing But I took it upon myself to crush it up and distribute the dust

 Free - Florence + The Machine (for Kendis Crawford-Louel @/keeperofthesunandmoon)

I'm always running from something I push it back, but it keeps on coming And being clever never got me very far Because it's all in my head And "You're too sensitive", they said

Xhyera Sarnan [my deathless demon commander]

The Wolf - PHILDEL 

And you once said I wish you dead you sinner I'll never be more than a wolf at your door for dinner And if I see you 'round like a ghost in my town, you liar I'll leave with your head oh I'll leave you for dead, sire.

I know, my way through the night to your door You know, the blood that I'm owed is all yours The wishes I've made are too vicious to tell The devil already he knows me so well

@moderarato @heroofpenamstan @dumortains @tumortain @aylaaescar @sapphic-story @amlovelies @thelittlestspider @watertribegirl @equusgirl @clintnatalias @tangerineloves @thee-morrigan @coldshrugs @umbertors @roxaro  @narrativefoiltrope @unitedindistaste @karolinarodrigueswrites @trebondialanna @yes-prisoner @beyonceswigs and whoever else desires!

#grapecase posts #tag game #oc: andy yasar #oc: kendis crawford louel #og andy's playlist is so southern gothic lmao and ofc catholic coded #exile: erkan yasar #twc: andy yasar #exile: kendis lateth #keeper: kendis crawford louel #oc: xhyera sarnan

[olicutterartorsmt]

harvey fan?? and also into ow?? that's so cool ‼️ you should totally just ramble about harvey (either headcanons or just whatever) because i love hearing what others have to say about the silly guy. please ignore how empty my main is i never post on here other than on my goofy sideblogs n that's it 😭 but i hope you're also having a good day!

Hello! I can totally rant about Harvey as he is my favorite little goober.

Also I’m very sorry if this comes out very randomly I’m not that good of a writer

Height: 6”2

Sexuality: pansexual, acespec, polyamorous

Gender: trans masc (he/they)

I’ve played sdv for about 505 hours at least and like I’ve married Harvey I think 4ish times here are my hcs!

I feel like him and Shane would have been friends when they were like 6-14 until Shane’s parents stop letting him visit the valley. When Shane goes on his ark I feel like Harvey would help him with his gender transition (I also hc Shane as trans masc lolz) which not getting gender affirming care would rlly affect his mental health. When Harvey was younger I could totally see him being super into Pokémon spending most of his time on it. Rlly weird hc I may be just self projecting but I feel like he would have been a Warriors kid trying to get Elliott into the books when they were younger. I do ship Shane and Harvey. Harvey would just suck at any type of video game. He would bleach the tips of his hair to look younger (it doesn’t work to well)

I hc his voice as three different voices: early transition I feel like he would sound like raggedy Andy from that one 1970s movie and then after his transition I feel like his voice would either settle as a John Mulaney type voice or he would just sound like the main singer for they might be giants. (Which I think fits him more)

He listens to Jack Stauber after Sam introduces it to him, his favorite songs from him would be buttercup, Doctor, and dinner is not over so basically only the rlly happy upbeat songs

Songs I immediately associate with him are Love grows, Doctor worm, Dinner bell, and Good old-fashioned lover boy

He would kinda hate PDA anything more than a hug, holding hands, or a cheek kiss he doesn’t like as he fears it may make him look unprofessional.

He is a victim of deez nuts jokes

He’s my lil goober with social anxiety and autism

His autumn outfit would consist of a baggy sweater with a beanie and gloves

Winter outfit would have a puffy jacket with a scarf covering his mouth/nose he would force Shane into wearing a coat

He would be the best father if he had kids

Shane convinced Harvey to smoke weed with him once and he immediately greened out lmao

He loves to cuddle with whoever he’s dating especially in the cooler months

A bit of self projection with this one but he HATES the feeling of foam like that crafting foam

He’s vegetarian

He would be a musical fan and a theatre kid

Depending on like the timeline I’m playing/the oc I’m using I hc see him a bit differently like if I’m using my oc named Soil he’s 35 he’s on HRT and he hasn’t gotten top surgery, if I use Abraham I hc him as 40ish he’s fully transitioned, and if I’m using Book he’s 35 and fully transitioned

And please please PLEASE if you wanna hear any more hcs from sdv or ow or unicorn wars please ask! I love to rant about things!

Edit: here’s a playlist I made for Harvey Art by dustlicious on tumblr https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7JvpKTQkbebOfh2996jYOh?si=AF4_I1fbS6-k6tuc1sHXyA&pi=u-V7ByQUHVS0i2

#harvey stardew #my bbg #the best character #stardew headcanon #headcanon #stardew valley #trans masc hc #pansexual hc #pan #trans #Harvey #havrey Stardew valley #Harvey sdv #sdv #polyamourous

[winderlylandchime]

I’m just gonna go ahead and say sorry in advance the man lost his mind with the next ep but 3x04 1/2 ‘He would make great marketing for durex. Remember their covid ads? Funny as shit. Why is she here? Why can’t she take the kid with her to the hospital? I thought i gave Brian permission to hit this fucking kid? Yeah! Eat the chips you little bitch.‘ we got to Mel and Linds picking donors ‘FRESH SPERM?! LINDSAY HE IS 19- What are the-THEY CANT GO TO A SPERM BANK? THEYRE GONNA PICK BETWEEN THEIR FRIENDS?! Girl, what makes you think any of them want a kid at all or better yet with you? There is no way Brian would let that kid get into the ‘vette. JUSTIN! WHY ARE THEY CASUALLY SAYING HEY TO EACH OTHER? oh Justin hates this kid (Mel and Linds pick Mikey) MICHAEL?! THEY ARE PICKING MICHAEL?! MICHAEL?! MIKE? MIKEY?! Because he invited a kid to a comic book store? THAT IS LITERALLY HIS JOB! Thank god the diner doesn’t have more male waiters because she would think someone wants a kid just cause they told her the specials’ ‘WHAT IS WITH THEM MOVING IN SO FAST? I THOUGHT THAT WAS A YOU PEOPLE THING *waves at me*’. ‘Have you noticed that whenever Lindsay and Melly want something from someone they make them a meal? (mikey and Ben are taking a shower and he actually fake gagged) The only shower scenes I like are Brian and Justin’ ‘he’s going through Brian’s stuf- he has a lot of dildos, why am i acting surprised..HE STOLE HIS BRACELET! How dare you, you little shit! BRIAN HE HAS YOUR BRACELET! HE DOES NOT OWE ANY OF YOU ANYTHING ESPECIALLY NOT MONEY! I know I said hit him but this *points to the toilet scene* is WAY fucking better! Do Ethan next!’ He is once again using Shazam to make his playlist even better. ‘Usually when people start doing drugs, they become fun before they ruin their lives, this dude is just hitting the gym? Boring. Oh he’s angry and jealous of Michael isn’t he? Well that’s not healthy’ he is once again using Shazam, this is getting ridiculous. ‘OKAY BRIAN!! Oh damn, I don’t remember him being all 6 packy before. Why is a cop there?’ ‘Why is he surprised that he wont have full rights? Dude, you’re a DONOR! But don’t worry they never hold their word, they force the donors to step up one way or the other. Make sure you have life insurance. THATS WHY THERES SPERM BANKS MELANIE!’ And thee scene is coming up (my cousin thankfully reminded me to record him here bc she knew he’d lose his mind and thank fuck she did. Usually i record him for big moments but i almost forgot here) ‘HE ACCUSED HIM OF WHAT NOW?! *pauses tv* OH FUCK HIM AND FUCK WHOEVER MADE HIM! That is such a horrible and serious accusation to make cause some people, HA, some people..good one (his name), GIRLS! WOMEN! aren’t believed! And boys! Oh don’t even get me started and i know it’s ironic because im yelling at a boy BUT DIFFERENT! WE DONT EVEN GET TO COME FORWARD CAUSE WE SHOULD BE HAPPY WE GOT LAID! And if it was done by a man? Well then we are forced to be quiet because we get mocked since apparently gay is worse than rape. But Brian is gay, so of course he did that and nobody would think otherwise. Because gay means predator in their peanut shaped brain! Meanwhile PRIESTS exist! Or those weird family friends that you have to change outfits for when they come over but nobody calls that out. HOW FUCKING DARE THEY? You know what? FUCK EVERYTHING AND ESPECIALLY FUCK THAT KID! His family better know better, i have no faith in them but they owe him that! Nobody will believe this, he literally hates kids!‘ He then got up and went outside to smoke. I forgot that when the whole Florida gay ban bullshit happened, this man FLEW to florida to protest (we are nowhere near florida) so I should’ve seen this coming tbh. And when he came back inside he just went ‘I do wish they showed him being interrogated because I know for a fact my man was giving sarcasm and anger and funny insults!’ ‘Well look at that, it’s almost as if you shouldn’t move in together after like a week!’

Melanie and Lindsay’s insistence on using known sperm over donor sperm baffles me and must be because for TV reasons because it’s so bananas. LOLing at them making someone a meal… that is so true!

Ben not becoming more interesting with a drug problem IS A MOOD. And true.

His reaction to this storyline is everything. Factually, false accusations are incredibly rare and yes, it’s a double-whammy for boys. The other part of this storyline I hate? Is that Claire is right to believe her kid. So rarely do parents believe their kids and go to the police, when they should. I hate hate hate this storyline with a passion. I get why it happens (Justin still believing in Brian and doing whatever needs to be done to clear his name) but FFS CowLip why why why do you have to create a narrative around a false accusation?

YOUR BROTHER FLEW TO FL TO PROTEST? He gets all the fist-ally’s in the world! I love him.

#ask winderlylandchime #dear sweet anon #queer as folk #a straight man watches qaf us 2000 in the year of our lord 2023

[tavtarnish]

Whoever made the Cod Edit playlist i owe you my life

#it helps that a lot of the songs are kind ;) cause its for writing the tattoo fic

[alister-crawley]

Diary entry #836

Don't read this, imagine there's a "read more" right here and skip this post, I can't add it on mobile tumblr.

So, this ancient "friend/ex" messaged me on new year's day. We hadn't talked in a while so I thought she just wanted to catch up. She was being friendly and extremely supportive of the things I said I wanted to do this year. Okay, I didn't think much of it, next thing she wants to meet to talk about something personal in private, I agreed thinking it was about something else. She basically tells me I ruined her life by not being a better partner in our short time together but you have to know she has a persuasion ability that makes you believe everything she says. Of course I took the blame. I apologized. I know I'm a bad person, of course she's right. She then told me she went to a place? Session? Those things were you pay good money to have people telling you your past lives(? Apparently they told her she has her (and I quote) "feminity blocked" because of our first and only sexual encounter together, (which was pretty mediocre but it always is). She proceeds to ask me to have sex with her again so her "feminity won't be blocked anymore" (that's a real thing she said, I'm not making it up). I said "sure", of course, I owe her, it's a small favor between pals. She tells me we have to do it under her conditions and I thought "of course, aids are a bitch" but no, she didn't say anything about protection, her conditions are that I don't tell anyone, I can't drink beforehand (which just won't do), I cannot tell her if I'm seeing or fucking someone else because "she doesn't like it when someone else flirts with me". At this point I thought the whole deal was shady enough, like, she must still have feelings for me if she's telling me she doesn't like it when I flirt with someone else, this can't be good, sex can develop feelings you thought were buried and for me it will only be a favor I'm doing for her, I don't like her that way, I could hurt her. I tell her this and she goes a bit mad, telling me she won't fall in love again but the whole thing reeks "possessiveness" to me at this point. I don't like it but I agree, we set the date to a Saturday on February. I come home, I send her a playlist she asked me for and let it sink in. I think about for days until my brain finally catches up and it's like "what the fuck just happened?" I agreed to something I don't want to do just because she made me feel like I ruined her life but I really believed I'm such a terrible shitty person, I owe her, of course I'm gonna do something I don't want to do just because she asked me, yes, I owe her that much. ???????? I don't think I have ever been so gaslighted in my life. She made me think it was ALL my fault and I believed her!!!! You have no idea how I feel right now. Like, now that I opened my eyes I can see how fake she is, how she fakes interest in the things you say so she can have all the data and use it against you in the future, she knows all my insecurities and uses them perfectly against me, she made me feel like shit for being a bad partner and that was forever ago, we were young and stupid, no one is to blame here, why is she still so mad at me? like, my dude, when you're so caught up on your ex after ten years you go to contact zero and meet new people, you don't ask your ex to fuck you again, are you sadistic? That will fuck you up even more! Also, the fact that I can't tell anyone ??? Like, why not? It's my life and I will tell whoever I want about it. I don't even know why she's doing it but she made me agree with everything she said. She's no better than the men she complains about, at least some guys will tell you they're just looking for sex and you gotta thank the sincerity, at least they don't pretend they care for you when they clearly don't but she does. I can't believe the ability she has, it's insane. I have never been so gaslighted in my whole fucking life. I mean, at least I know I'm a piece of shit and I accept it, she's a fucking martyr in her own mind when in reality she's also a terrible person. She can go fuck herself, if she's so strong and independent she clearly doesn't need me doing so. Fuck. It.

#it's sad when you realize you don't have one real friend in life #but i swear it makes you tougher #and that is good my fellas #be smarter #be tougher #you're so much better on your own

[m4rsd1ed]

He saved me || Part 9: Questioning????

Morgan's POV

"......turn on the stove.... turn on the stove because you're pansexual..." Eh, it doesn't seem like a bad idea. That reminds me I should start on breakfast and maybe I'll shout that I'm pan... or maybe not. I should start on breakfast. Or maybe I should make a somewhat sexual joke, saying 'I'd have sex with a pan' No, that sounds weird... 

----------✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.  𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐩, 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬, 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐧 ----------✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I call down everyone for breakfast I'm not sure whether or not to say I'm pan but that one moment with Norman keeps playing in my head over and over. Our faces got so close, his hands were so soft and that breath he took right when we should've kissed was so soft and gentle just like him and I felt his lips with my fingers as we got closer they were so soft I wanted to kiss him so bad.  I snap out of my day dream and then I start to smell something. Is that smoke?! the toast burns.. "GODDAMNITTTTTT!...ow..." I stubbed my toe on the cabinet. I hate today. Norman comes down I panic and try to act cool but end up looking like a brother from Disney channel when a hot girl is in the house and Norman laughs at me a bit. damn he's so cute that boy man. He tells me he's just going to grab a pop tart and wait for me in my car which was probably for the best since I just burned the toast. I ask him to save me one as I head up stairs to grab my bag and my sweatshirt and then run right back down to go to my car so he can drive us to school.

----------✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.  𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐩, School----------✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. 

Norman's POV

Whispers are floating around Wishington High, it's about the new LGBTQ+ policy the principal implemented. What a damn douchebag. I walked through the halls head down listening to Steve Lacey's new song 'Static' thinking about the almost kiss or whatever that happened between me and Morgan. Alice runs up to me and practically snatches me into an empty classroom and says "Sooo you and Morgan? you guys like a thing finally?" I look down and I shake my head no and she sighs. "Norman I saw you two about to kiss and you should've just kissed him then and there." She gets an idea then points to the homecoming sign she made her girlfriend that she claims to just be a friend she's asking just for laughs but we all know the truth and says that this is my chance. I hold my head up high and agree. At lunch I go to the bathroom, skipping lunch to look in TikTok for some ideas just to end up going for the simple poster except I'll put songs the remind me of him and a Spotify playlist code. I draw out the design of it on my phone and it looks amazing holy shit. The bell rings which means lunch is over so I grab my stuff and blend into the crowd of people going back to my class. But.... I can't ask Morgan out due to those fucking policies in place... But, people can love whoever they want..

Word count: 541

#fanfic writer #mars writes 🌷 #wattpad #writing #he saved me

[dorefasolsido]

4.

Put your music library on shuffle (or just pick some random songs) and answer a few questions for each one.

by chasingghosts

❀ Song One ❀

What's the song?

I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace.

When did this song come out?

2003, wooow. Literally 20 years ago.

Would you recommend this song to someone?

Sure, love that song, takes me back to high school. Whoever’s feeling angsty or sad would probably really feel it.

Do you know how to play this song on an instrument? (or would you like to learn?)

I don’t play any instruments, but if I knew how to play a guitar, sure.

❀ Song Two ❀

What's the song?

Promise by Jimin.

Do you remember how you discovered this song?

Hmm, not really. I guess I just stumbled upon it when exploring BTS discography. And since then it has become my comfort song.

What genre would you classify this song as?

Uhh, no idea? Like a sweet, acoustic ballad.

Have you ever been obsessed with or fixated on this song?

Not obsessed or fixated but whenever I need a little pick-me-up, I play this and it feels like a warm hug from your best friend.

❀ Song Three ❀

What's the song?

Outro: Tear by BTS

Could you dance to this song?

You could definitely jump to this one.

Does this song remind you of anyone?

No, but somehow I always think of J-hope for this one, even though the whole rapline performs it.

What’s the tempo of this song?

Intense, fast, the song feels almost like a desperate cry in a way.

❀ Song Four ❀

What's the song?

Fine Again by Seether

Have you ever seen this song performed live?

No, and I doubt I ever will. I pretty much only listen to this song from Seether's discography.

What is the name of the album this song is on?

Well, I cheated and looked it up, it’s called Fragile.

Does this song ever get stuck in your head?

There was a time when it was nonstop in my head. I think I was going through stuff at the time, and it’s kinda perfect for those moments.

❀ Song Five ❀

What's the song?

I’m Fine by BTS

Does this song have male or female vocals?

Only male.

Do you like the lyrics of this song?

Yeah, actually, I like how it’s about being your own support and pulling yourself out of hardships instead of relying on someone else. I also like how it’s a direct answer to Save Me they made a few years prior, and it shows the change and progress of their attitudes in general.

Does this song remind you of any particular period of your life?

Just my early Army days when I would mix up whether it’s Save Me or I’m Fine based on the first few notes of the song. The beginning is intentionally similar, but obviously nothing else is the same.

❀ Song Six ❀

What's the song?

Fake Love by BTS

Would you say this is one of your favourite songs?

Actually yes. I owe a lot to this song.

When did you first discover this song?

Last March, and it was actually one of the first songs I heard by BTS and the song that got me into the band. My sister and I decided to show our mum some K-pop (though neither of us were K-pop fans lol), and so we looked up BTS as one of the only bands we'd heard about, stumbled upon their 2018 MAMA performance of Fake Love, Airplane pt. 2 and Idol, and were completely blown away. And the rest is history.

❀ Song Seven ❀

What's the song?

Loooool Scream by Troy Bolton from High School Musical 3.

Is this song a genre you would regularly listen to?

Not at all, but I love this dramatic song. I remember when I downloaded it too and I know that I was feeling very dramatic myself lmao

Has this song ever been in a popular chart like Billboard?

I highly doubt it.

Is this song on any of your playlists?

Nope.

❀ Song Eight ❀

What's the song?

Crawl Away by Tool

Do you like to sing along to this song?

When I’m angry, yes. I don’t think I know all lyrics entirely, but yes. It also makes me sad though, so I don’t listen to it too often.

What’s the emotion of this song?

Anger, desperation, disappointment, it’s pretty vengeful too in some way.

Have you ever seen this artist perform live?

Yessssss, in 2019! I was so excited and it was insane. I honestly still feel like that whole festival day was a dream.

❀ Song Nine ❀

What's the song?

Bury a friend by Billie Eilish.

Does this song have more than one singer?

No, but you can hear a guy say her name at the beginning.

Do you know any other songs from the album this song is on?

I think so, yeah.

Would you play this song at a party?

It’s not exactly a party song, but I can imagine that it might work at a certain darker type of party.

❀ Song Ten ❀

What's the song?

Closer by NIN

Is the artist who performs this song one of your favourites?

No, but I like a few of their songs.

Do you know all the lyrics to this song?

I believe so.

Is there a music video for this song, and have you seen it?

Oh I’ve seen it. Back in high school I was very much like wtf is happening, but I guess you just kind grow numb to it all with age

#surveys #personal

[ultimatestellar]

whoever inkthemandrake on spotify who made “gay clown gender playlist” is i owe you my life

#came for the surge tenrec playlist stayed for silly noises #it makes my brain go brrr #can i say this is very autism (affectionate)? #i hope i can say that #startalks

[fredy-carter]

.

#whoever made a 'no mourners no funerals' playlist on spotify #i owe you my life

[sheraphic]

hiii could you do one of these instagram things with eve.frsn and harry, i just love her style xoxo ♥️♥️♥️

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

◃────────────────────────────────▹

author's note; hi there anon, sorry for the waiting but here it is your request, hope you like it.

warnings; there can be a few mistakes with the grammar.

「 REQUESTS ARE OPEN 」

It would be wonderful If you ~reblog it~ that help me a lot, it inspire me for write more.

// masterlist //

◃────────────────────────────────▹

Liked by nickjonas, barbarapalvin and 3,633,820 others

yourinstagram walked all day and couldn't find the rainbow

View all 32,712 comments

harrystyles I'm looking at one right now

⤅ynfan992 he calls her rainbow 😩

⤅harryfan672 who gave you the right to be the most perfect boyfriend in the world?

⤅harryfan888 @harryfan672 only on this world?

⤅harryfan672 @harryfan888 you're right, let me correct it; the most perfect boyfriend in the whole universe

barbarapalvin love how you guys match in a heavenly way

yndaily I'm not gonna say who took this picture bc y'all know it already

⤅yourinstagram a stranger

⤅harryfan623 @yourintagram omg hahaha poor harry

⤅ynfan018 @yourintagram like, who's harry?

harryfan540 but- her eyes... so damn beautiful

stinegoyastudio lovely lady

yourbffinstagram saw it from my window 🌈

harryfan092 PROOFS!

⤅ynfan176 @harryfan092 what do you mean?

⤅harryfan092 @ynfan176 that they walk all around the city and no one saw them

⤅ynfan176 @harryfan092 uhm?? it's not like every single person in the city gonna be looking for them... You know, everyone have their own bussines

⤅harryfan800 @ynfan176 exactly! Why someone have to confirm that they were walking?

⤅harryfan092 @harryfan800 bc then it's not real

⤅ynfan176 @harryfan092 omg... Get outta here

lookitsnyoh i'm the blurry spot behind you

ynfan388 everyday passed by without being blessed to be beside you

ynfan729 ok but I want the beanie and the scarf

Liked by yourinstagram, gemmastyles and 8,629,820 others

harrystyles In the middle of a rainy june

View all 52,913 comments

yourinstagram all that green and your eyes are still my favorites

⤅harrystyles @yourinstagram I'm blushing. On my way to... Where am I going?

⤅harryandyn guys stop, i can't cry all day

⤅yndaily she's a poet and he's her inspiration

⤅harryupdates @harrystyles love, i think you got a little bit flustered

⤅harryfan723 i want what they have!

harryfan811 when it will be my turn?

kaiagerber can she be my photographer?

harryfan402 everybody, say thank you to yn for took this picture of a lovely man

⤅harryfan331 @harryfan402 just imagining that he posed for it 🥺

alessandro_michele what a cutie

harryfan101 can- can i be god's favourite for once?

cazoff model material, naturally

adamprendergast_ what a pretty boy smiling at the void

⤅harryfan699 now i now that adam is the annoying friend of the gruop

emiozmen @harryfan699 don't even doubt it

harryking may a offer you an umbrella, my lord?

⤅harrynews one fan said he had an umbrella, but he just doesn't use it

⤅harryfan782 let the boy get wet

⤅harryfan226 @harryfan782 YOU DIDN'T

⤅ynfan335 @harryfan782 this is my favorite comment ever

troyesivan my life is brighter now

⤅harryfan602 @troyesivan we need a collab

⤅columbiarecords indeed

⤅harryfan602 @columbiarecords wait wtf

Liked by gemmastyles, emmalouisecorrin and 5,290,214 others

yourinstagram contrast 🔹🔻

View all 30,171 comments

florencepugh = 💜

⤅yourinstagram :)

harryfan222 omg i get it now

ynfan889 this is so adorable

yoursisterinstagram this is a lot of chaotic energy for my board

yndaily we love their eclectic little world

zendaya big fan of your hair

ynfan022 how can i not love this two weirdos?

harrystyles you said crazy pose, not dramatic

⤅yourinstagram @harrystyles your smile it's crazy delightful

⤅harryfan700 @yourinstagram can i be you girlfriend too?

⤅harryfan191 @harryfan700 same, i fell in love because she knows exactly what she's doing

⤅ynfan748 this man won the best woman ever

harryandyn god, i see what you do for others

charlotteanneclark a mood

harryfan882 i really love that he feels so comfortable with her and their relationship to let us see this.

⤅harryfan525 @harryfan882 ikr he finallt let us see this side of him and I'm an emotional mess

⤅harryfan106 @harryfan882 i think we finally understand that he has a life and can love whoever he chooses

rosalia.vt happy but confused at the same time

harryfan441 ugh, they are so foolishly in love

t_chalament it's a yes from me

⤅harryfan722 timothee represents me

ynfan831 she matches his personality so perfectly

annetwist lovely pics!

⤅ynfan029 she loves her 🤍

Liked by dualipa, harry_lambert and 8,190,644 others

harrystyles The route was traced, the playlist was ready; and even like that we get lost.

View all 76,882 comments

yourinstagram told you to give the map and you said no

⤅harrystyles @yourinstagram I wanted it to be a surprise!

⤅harrynews i can't bear too much cuteness

⤅ynfan551 these two are the only couple that made me belive that true love exists

⤅yndaily ow, an older couple having a disagreement🥺

⤅ynfan670 @yndaily i have high hopes for them getting married

mitchrowland I explained to you three times how the gps works...

⤅harryandyn harry and technology doesn't mix well

harryfan661 @mitchrowland he's a baby, you know?

⤅ynfan771 I'm from the future, and i came here to tell everyone that mitch doesn't know how a gps works either

⤅harryfan880 @yourfan771 I CAN'T WITH HITCH

pillowpersonpp oh, to get lost with great music in the background because your boyfriend it's too stubborn yo let you be the guide... Yes, it happened to me too

⤅yourinstagram @pillowpersonpp i hope god receives us both in paradise for having dealt with these men

⤅harryfan720 stoooooop mitch and harry twins

⤅ynfan182 @yourinstagram you're just a genius with your comments! 🖤

⤅harryfan788 @mitchrowland you gf exposed you, what are you gonna do about it?

⤅lookitsnyoh @harryfan788 the best thing he can do it's to bake some bread for her

helenepambrun so that pic was while you guys stop for indications or...?

⤅harryfan693 HELPPPPPPP

harryfan this it's so harry you can't tell me otherwise

harryfan ok but her dress, the vintage car and the vibe of being lost with your lover-💗 ugh, please leave alone with my singleness

mrbenwinston "the route was traced"

⤅harrystyles It was.

⤅harryfan837 HAHAHAHAHA STOP

⤅harryfan681 all his friends are roasting him lol

⤅harryfan716 he's upset, someone quick give him a lollipop!

⤅ynfan682 i really love this side of his fans

⤅harryfan346 @ynfan682 it has to be this way, otherwise he'll throw a tantrum

zanelowe harry mate, you better start listen to your girl

harryfan380 i'm laughing more than i should, sorry for them, but this it's golden comedy

Liked by harrystyles, jefeazoff and 3,190,644 others

yourinstagram excuse the sunburn

View all 38,672 comments

harrystyles sorry, didn't know the lipstick would be waterproof

⤅harryfan806 did he just say that he kissed her cheeks while wearing lipstick?!

⤅traceeellisross @yourinstagram your boyfriend burned you sweetie haha

⤅harryfan992 i need the name of that lipstick, no matter if i have to give all my money

⤅harryandyn I can't, i just can't stop thinking about harry pecking kisses all over her face

⤅yndaily @harryandyn just thinking how funny It was the moment she realized that the kiss prints couldn't be wiped away and give harry a look like 😠

⤅harryfan714 @yndaily shut uppp! And he just giggling like the fckin demon that he is

harry_lambert ok guys you need to stop because i can't spend the whole day liking all your comments...

⤅harryfan782 then tell them to not be this iconic 🤧

dovecameron it's like seeing an angel in her own heaven

ynfan602 this queen and her eyes are the only reason i'm still alive

reiflerpaige you and italy are old lovers

harryfan503 i love that her hair it's the exact same color as her eyes! It's insanely accurate!

harryupdates you dind't hear this from me, but someone said that harry made that neacklace for her

⤅ynfan101 please don't do this me, i don't have enough tears to express how happy that makes me

⤅harryfan559 I KNEW IT!

⤅harryfan883 @harrystyles do you ship internationally? I would like to order one piece, pretty please 🤍

Liked by arianagrande, annetwist and 7,380,721 others

harrystyles Malva thoughts.

View all 82,110 comments

gemmastyles I'll never share my favorite color with you again.

⤅harryfan733 this is so funny

⤅harryfan892 yep, that's something aquarius would do

⤅harryfan019 @harryfan892 no proof but i have zero doubts

yourinstagram Isn't that my white tablecloth you're painting on?

⤅ynfan129 someone is in trouble

⤅harryfan899 no in a white tablecloth harry!

⤅harryfan782 i can see a storm coming

⤅harryfan673 @harrystyles hey lad, i think they looking for you

⤅harryfan018 @harrystyles that's it, you'll sleeping on the bathtub tonight

zoeisabellakravitz Try periwinkle.

⤅harrystyles It's already in my notes

⤅harryfan820 most iconic interaction

anthonyturnerhair need to know where i can get those flower pots

⤅harryfan675 omg me too!

⤅harryfan772 i bet he has really cool items all around his place

⤅harryfan099 @harryfan772 i bet he was an interior designer on his past life

⤅ynfan681 @harryfan772 those are yn's flowerpots actually and you can find them on amazon! 🤎

⤅harryfan772 @ynfan681 wait, really?? They're sooo cool omg

⤅harryfan388 @ynfan681 so that means they're living together?!

mollyjane_x Prodigy

⤅harryfan819 he can sit on a rock and we'll say he's a fucking legend

⤅harryfan912 where's the lie?

claraamfo music, reading, painting... Leave some for the rest of us, the mortals.

⤅harryfan891 right? It's like, why he has to be so good at everything?

⤅ynfan723 And he's also @yourinstagram broyfriend 😩

⤅claraamfo @ynfan723 that's what hurt the most

sammywitte I never knew you knew how to paint.

⤅jefeazoff leave the kid explore.

⤅harryfan662 hahahaha i can't with jeff's comment

⤅harryfan982 @harryfan662 it's like they just comment to roasting him

⤅harryfan222 @harryfan982 and we are loving it!

⤅harryfan116 true friendship it's this

flammedepigelle inspired.

⤅harryfan671 oh, well...

⤅harryfan927 now e news it's going to write a ridiculous post about a love triangle between yn, harry and sharon

⤅ynfan813 @harryfab927 don't give them ideas! 🤫

⤅harryfan927 @ynfan814 omg you're right, I'm gonna delete it!

jennynails delivery will be this wednesday!

⤅harryfan712 harry's nails will be malva?

⤅harryfan991 omg that's so cute

Liked by tchalamet, zendaya and 4,375,092 others

yourinstagram I'm Malva.

View all 42,713 comments

harrystyles In fact, you're the whole palette, my darling

⤅yourinstagram 🤍

⤅harryandyn he loves his little rainbow

⤅harryfan881 yep, that's my heart full of happiness to see him be so in love with her

⤅harryfan092 she is perfect for him. I mean it.

⤅harryfan330 she will take him to the moon for us.

⤅harryfan445 @harryfan330 and all we can say is thank you to the wonderful yn.

⤅harryfan672 @harryfan330 you should stop with that because it's ridiculous... She already took him to the whole milky way 🌌

⤅ynfan168 @harryfan672 omg i thought you were about to say something nasty about their relationship

⤅harryupdates @harryfan672 we thought that too, we were ready to reply back

⤅harryfan610 @harryupdates to fight back*

⤅harryfan777 @harryfan672 your comment was genious

⤅harryfan672 @harryupdates omg, didn't expect my comment will attract so much attention.

⤅harryfan672 @ynfan168 the only nasty thing i could say about their relationship it's that i'm deeply jealous

yndaily yeah yeah, so cute. When is the wedding?

massimobottura Undeniable expression of love.

⤅ynfan220 now i picturing them eating massimo bottura's delicious food... leave me alone please

⤅harryfan688 @ynfan220 this warms my heart

selenagomez Oh, he draw you ❤️

⤅harrystyles He indeed did it

⤅harryfan672 I can't with this man referring to himself in the third person

⤅harryfan339 @harryfan672 he's a weirdo

⤅harryfan980 thank god it's yn's problem now

⤅harryfan100 we finally can have some peace

⤅ynfan764 good luck honey @yourinstagram

⤅harryandyn this comment section it's gold

glenne_azoff now is when you decided to post in b&w?

⤅yourinstagram aesthetic

⤅harryfan771 I'm laughing more than i want heeelp

⤅harryfan821 @yourinstagram idol

annetwist I will need a copy of it

⤅harryfan111 guys I'm crying and it's just 8am

⤅harryfan337 if queen anne loves her, y'all need to do it as well. No excuses

⤅ynfan008 @harryfab337 has been decreed

harleyweir Didn't know i needed to see this, but I'm happy

charlotteanneclark You two put my expectations so high

⤅harryfan723 someone finally say it

⤅ynfan092 now i need a harry to my yn

spaceykacey lovers in their little birdhouse

tylersamj I see a stubble :)

⤅mitchrowland don't give him hopes, @tylersamj

⤅jefeazoff don't crash his hopes, @mitchrowland

⤅gemmastyles stop defending him, @jefeazoff

⤅harrystyles I want to grow a lumberjack beard :)

⤅yourinstagram we already talked about this, Harry.

– comments have been limited –

#harry styles blurb #harry styles fake ig #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles fake social media #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #my wtiting

[dioko]

What It’d Be Like to Work Out With Bakugou Katsuki.

Pairing: Bakugou x gn! reader 

A/N -> sorry about the lack of oneshots coming out, i didnt really think id be that busy but... it turns out i’m that busy. anyways fun headcanons because im coping for SNKs 139 in as many ways as i can :')

You walked tiredly out of your class, glad your week was finally over. It had been a long day, and at last you could go back to your dorm and pass out for the weekend. That is, until your name was yelled across the room. “Y/N!” Kirishima waved at you, and you waved back, “want to join Baku- ow!” the redhead chirped when the blond jabbed him in the ribs, “I mean, us at the gym tomorrow?”

“Sure,” you’d respond; it wouldn’t be too bad, right? You hadn’t talked to Bakugou very much, but if Kirishima was there, everything would be fine, right?

Kirishima dipped LOL

ok now the actual headcanons

Bakugou, contrary to popular belief, does not work himself recklessly. he knows he’s not a machine

not that this stops him from moving really quickly

he's just more cautious than most people give him credit for

when you two finally get started, you’re surprised to see his wary side - giving himself proper breaks and escalating the intensity at a steady pace

“The hell are you standing and watching them for, huh?” “Nothi - nothing!” “Then quit slacking off, or did you just c’mere to zone out?”

also, he does not listen to music while he works out 

although he’s careful, he trains like he wants revenge for whoever kicked his dog and maybe his motivation is thinking about deku surpassing him. Who needs music when you have that kinda mindset?

“You... you’re not gonna pull out earbuds or anything?” You say, reaching for your own. “No. Why would I do that?” “Jeez, you do this all without music?” “Yeah, and?”

you don’t really know what to say, so you don’t say anything at all - he can work out however he wants

“What do you listen to?” He speaks up after a few minutes of quiet.  “Loud stuff, it feels quicker to move with the beat of the music.” “Oh.” “Do you listen to music... ever?” “Of course,” he snorts, “M’not a fuckin’ weirdo.” “What do you listen to?” “Old rock,” he shrugs, “but anything that booms will do.” “Even while you’re studying?” “Especially while I’m studying.”

you’d talk a little more about your tastes in music, and the two of you manage to hit it off quite well, despite your premonitions that there wouldn’t be a constant flow in conversation if Kirishima were absent

he criticizes you

but they’re valid points and not just him being petty

maybe a little bit petty

“fix your posture,” he yaps barks at you.

all in all, it was a pretty great session; part of you hoped that it would happen again. 

“Y/n,” it was a familiar voice. Bakugou had panicked and said your name louder than he intended, and a couple heads turned in your direction.

your cheeks burned todoroki-fire hot

“Yeah?” you replied.  “Want to come with me again?” “To... where?” “Gym, dumbass.” “Yeah sure, let’s do it.”

one good thing about being his friend is that it’s incredibly easy to make plans with him

the two of you would go again, same place and time, and then-

“IMADEAPLAYLIST,” he’d randomly blurt out.

denki suggested the idea to him, but he wasn’t about to let you know that.

“Thought you didn’t listen to music?” “Well it can’t hurt t’try, can it?”

#bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x gn!reader #gn reader #afab readers #amab readers #x reade #bnha #boku no hero headcanons #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #my hero headcanons #my hero academia #mha kirishima #mha deku #ask me whatever #requests open

[writingsbychlo]

💭hi chloe, congrats! could u do a dating ff!tommy head canon (like the ones you have for stiles and mitch) i miss him 🥺

under the cut! i will also link this to my masterlist, because I know how much y'all like these!

PDA

Tommy is kiiiiinda in a middle ground about PDA

He doesn’t feel the need to go over the top, but he isn’t shy about it either

He’ll kiss his girl when he wants, and he isn’t shy of affection either

Little nudges and pokes and a lot of random hugs

On a call together, he keeps it professional, of course

But in your own time? He’s a free man, and he’ll love his girl if he wants to

At the house, he can be extra with PDA, just to annoy everyone

If he gives you a little kiss, or does something which anybody teases him for, he goes into overdrive, just to annoy them

A lot of ‘my love’, ‘angel’, ‘light of my life’, ‘love of my life’, ‘hey pretty girl’

A lot of flirting too

“Oh, damn, good thing we’re firemen because you are smokin’.” and such

He will one hundred percent grab your ass and run away

You’ve actually become pretty used to it, actually

Little slaps, or pinches, or grabs, and then he just runs away laughing

Thinkin’ he’s doing something

But he still blushes when you flirt back, in literally any situation

Using a fire-related pick-up line

“Well, damn, lieutenant, you’d better come over here and handle me then.”

And his jaw would drop and he’d get cute pink cheeks

Which definitely leads to some PDA because he’ll grab your face and kiss you

The PDA gets more after a hard call but nobody says anything then

Hand holding and cuddling and playing with hair

Soft kisses and whispered reassurances while holding each other’s faces

Honestly, he’s not big on making an exhibition, but he will give out a lot of love

HANGING OUT

Hanging out happens a lot

For starters, there’s all day at work, especially on slow days when you might not even get a case

At the beginning of the relationship, that would be awesome, because ‘honeymoon phase’ and all

But once you’ve moved past that and into a more serious relationship, that can be an issue

Like if there’s been a dispute at home or one of you is on edge

So hanging out is pretty much never alone at work

And you try to break it up into chunks too

Making sure you have a girls night with Brenda at least once a week

And once a week he has a guys night, and you plan them on separate days

You actually have too much hang out time on your hands, and it can be a strain

Once you’ve got it down, though, it’s easy

Having TV shows that you binge together, and will never watch without the other

Cleaning and doing household chores together always becoming fun

Especially when you build a playlist for these jobs, and end up dancing and singing together

Also, cooking together

Which is actually usually just one of you cooking, and the other sitting on the counter just to chat

Grocery shopping alone, and making appointments alone

Just so that you always have time apart, to keep things distanced

DATE NIGHT

Date nights are hard to plan when you live together and have such busy jobs

You rarely ever actually feel the need to go out and about to have a date

Really, you just want to get in your comfies and relax together

At first, you both kind of force yourselves to go out

Making bookings and dressing up and going out for dinner

You feel like you owe it to yourselves at the beginning

Even though you don’t need to do the small talk and whatnot

After that, drive through dates in the middle of the night, or going on walks in the park count as dates

And after that, you honestly stop counting dates

You’re just together

Long before you move in together, you’re already basically living together

You drive home from work together, and choose who’s place to crash at

So dates as a concept are pretty irrelevant after a pretty short amount of time

SEX

Oh, don’t even get me started on this

He’s always horny after regular cases

Watching you go into ‘action mode’, he loves it

And you feel the same about him

Definitely having hooked up in the showers a few times at work while you were still in that phase

His hand over your mouth and trying not to let the sounds be too obvious

Trying to keep quiet and failing at it

You’re pretty sure everyone knows, but nobody said anything

Also fucking in one of the firetrucks and the ambulance

When you get a little more self-control, morning sex is usually the way forwards

Because you’re both always so tired after shifts

So morning sex is usually the way to go

If it is morning sex, it’s always sloppy and clingy and passionate

Slow thrusts and wandering hands and deep kisses

Shower sex is also a regular visitor in the morning sex regime

“It’s hot, and easy clean-up, and it’s hot. I see no downsides.”

He loves shower sex

However, if you’ve been out with the team, you’re probably both a little tipsy

Team nights lead to drinking, lead to Thomas openly saying how much he loves how hot his girlfriend is and getting wandering hands

Also kinda sloppy and clingy sex

But a lot hotter

Because you have more energy than mornings, and you’ve got a little liquor behind it

So it’s the times when you both get a little wilder

Day off sex is different, though

Day off sex is much more like making love than just fucking

Because it’s a lazy day, so you’re both in pyjamas

And he’s just turned on because he loves you so much

It’s quite literally just ‘seriously, you’re so cute and I love you so much’ sex

Wearing his oversized shirts and sweatpants and odd socks

And he’s wearing plaid pants or sweats and old shirts

Literally nothing sexy about it but damn you just have so much love

So those are the days where he takes you apart piece by piece

Slow and deep, so much love and kisses

Dirty talk is more just loving confessions

It’s not “I’m gonna have you screaming my name” like drunk sex or morning sex

But it more like “I’m gonna love you forever, I swear it”

Yeah, he’s always clingy, though

AFTERCARE

Big on aftercare. Big big big.

He’s always affectionate but he’s extra affectionate after sex

Brushing your hair back out of your face

If he got messy, he gets a cloth and cleans you up

Plus a lot of cuddling

“You want anything? Some water, I want some water. You want a snack?”

Sometimes you do, sometimes you don’t

If you do, he helps you out on some loose clothes and makes something simple like poptarts

If you don’t he gets you water when he gets his own and brings it to bed

Always helps you get back into some kind of pyjamas afterwards

Even if it’s just throwing them to you if you’re not completely fucked out

Cuddling under the covers afterwards

And it doesn’t get awkward, either

two seconds later, once you’re all cuddled up, he’ll jump right in with “so, guess what my mom texted before-”

And he just skips into the gossip and chatter without any awkwardness

THINGS YOU STEAL FROM EACH OTHER

Ohhh a lot

You wear a lot of his hoodies and shirts and coats

He likes things to be comfortably big on himself, so they’re quite large on you

He steals your slippers and fluffy for a while

Your place has hardwood floors but his has carpets, so when he comes over, his feet get cold

He stretches out your socks and slippers

So you start buying them bigger so they’re comfortable for him

He doesn’t realise until he sees you trip over the extra-long toe length one day

So he buys you your own

You now have like 15 pairs that are alternated around

Honestly, each other’s phones

What do you have to hide from him? You work together, you live together, you have the same friends

So, you use one another’s phones

To get in the groupchat and just reply, or to call someone or send a text

It’s really just about whoever’s phone is closest

He steals your netflix account before moving in

And you steal his spotify premium

His car

It’s cooler and has a smoother drive and you like it

So you like to drive his car around a lot

He always subtly complains about it

“That car is my baby.”

“I thought I was your baby.”

“You’re my angel.”

But he always hands over the keys willingly

And he complains about adjusting the seat after you’ve used it

But he buys the air fresheners you like

PICK UP LINES HE LIKES TO USE

A lot of straight-up firemen puns

“Get rid of your smoke detector, sleep with a fireman.”

“The fire might be out, but you’re smokin’ hot.”

I’m a fireman. I’m an expert in what’s hot.”

But he’s also soft and cheesy and in love with his paramedic girlfriend so

“I’m glad you know CPR, because you just took my breath away.”

“Do you have a band-aid? Because I scraped my knees falling for you.”

“If you’re here, who’d running heaven?”

“Your hand looks heavy, want me to hold it for you?”

“I just stole a kiss. Want it back? Come get it.”

GOING ON CALLS TOGETHER

He's a professional little baby

He won’t let his love for you get in the way, because he knows you’ll yell at him for it

He has a job to do, and he learned the hard way that he has to prioritise that

A lot of arguments and tearful confessions and deep chats made the understanding

But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a few traditions

If it’s just a regular case with him going into a building and you staying outside, it’s the usual

Whispered reassurances as a plan is formed

Before you lock your pinkies, and pull each other close, and kiss your thumbs

It started because you kept bumping your head on his helmet when you tried to give him quick kisses

And then getting in trouble for kissing on the scene when one of the local papers reported on workplace romances

And you aren’t technically doing anything wrong but it made you both mad

So it became a pinky lock, and kissing the edges of your own hand

Because that’s the best you could get

However, if you have to go into a building, he checks your kit himself

You gave up fighting him on it

The only way he was gonna feel reassured was if he’d checked it all himself

Just allowing him to do so at this point

Bumping your helmets together softly before you go inside

When you go inside, you always walk behind him

He never directly demanded that when you were working out boundaries after an argument

But you know it makes him feel better

Always sticking close to his side, and remembering the flashlight technique he’d taught you if you wander off

After cases, when you get back to the firehouse, you always have reassuring little kisses

And that’s his time to support you

Always letting you check him over, even when he’s not hurt

Because he knows that it makes you feel better

And if you have to take a detour to the hospital with patients, he makes sure he has a mug of tea and a snack ready for you when you get back

#9ksleepover