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runnning-outof-time · 2 months

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I’m (Not) Alright with a Slow Burn | Tommy Shelby x Reader headcanons

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader (headcanons)

Summary: How Tommy would go about being stuck in a slow burn with someone he's falling for.

Warnings: mention of death of grandmother, slight season 2 spoilers

Word Count: 2537

A/N: I really enjoyed this request! umm…I’m not sure if these are 100% written like headcanons - I wrote them like I was spewing out ideas lol. Kacey Musgraves’s song Slow Burn was also running through my head while I was writing this, hence the title. Also how the hell do you actually spell headcanons?? Is there 1 ‘n’ or 2?? Lol . Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you want to be tagged!

• (Y/N) was one of the few Shelby Company Ltd. employees that Tommy didn't hire. She was brought on board while he and the boys were off at one of the races. Polly saw the potential in her and immediately welcomed her into the company.

• when Tommy returned from said races, he was pleasantly surprised to meet her.

• and Polly clocked that immediately. She was able to tell by the lack of a fight - Tommy was always able to find something to pick at when she made decisions within the company, no matter how minuscule. But there was nothing to pick at with (Y/N).

• Polly also wasn't surprised to see (Y/N) completing more and more tasks that came directly from Tommy. They'd be tasks that Polly hadn't even known about...but for some reason Tommy trusted (Y/N) with them.

• (Y/N) didn't think anything different about it. She'd been hired into the company and one of her bosses was asking her to do things. That's what was supposed to happen, right?

• although she did find it odd that it was Tommy asking her to do these things when she'd originally been hired to help Polly with sorting out the books and the like.

• things persisted like that for a few months. (Y/N) would happily and eagerly help him with whatever he needed to have done around the company. He'd look out for her, making sure that she was happy in her position and just in general. And in return, (Y/N) would (try) to keep up the same for him. She'd show that in the smallest of ways and attempts, but he would notice. Over those few months and because of those small acts, Tommy's thoughts and feelings towards (Y/N) evolved.

• he can still remember the day when that switch began - because it haunted him every day after.

• she came into his office like it was any other day for her...but it wasn't any other day for Tommy.

• he'd been working under Campbell for a few weeks at that point, and it'd become apparent that he'd be dead at the end of the arrangement. Tommy wasn't afraid to die, but the thought of getting everything in order and making sure his family could go on without him was now plaguing his mind.

• so when (Y/N) asked him what he had for her to do today, Tommy rattled off his list without as much as looking up at her. He was fully expecting her to turn and exit the second he finished speaking.

• she didn't. Silence reigned for a moment or two before "are you ok, Tommy?" came quietly from her. This made Tommy look up, and when he did, all of the noise in his mind ceased. Sure he looked at her before - he'd looked up like this thousands of times, but he never saw her like he did when he looked up this time. It was this otherworldly experience that he'd only been through twice before. Which meant he knew exactly what was happening.

• even though he brushed her question off and told her that he was fine, he hoped that things wouldn't change between them.

• and thankfully they didn't because hell, Tommy Shelby was certain that he was falling in love.

• he began testing the waters carefully at first. (Y/N) was a good woman and he wasn't about to make her leave the company due to his actions. He couldn't stand to lose her.

• so he started by making sure she was being heard; by actually listening to her whenever she'd share ideas or tell him how things played out with what he'd asked her to do.

• then he emphasized making sure that she was safe - having blinders on her block, sticking around on the days where she and Polly would be in the shop tallying the winnings, and also personally offering to take her wherever she needed to go.

• (Y/N) reacted bashfully to these offers. She felt that the other company employees would think that she was getting special treatment or something — well...she kind of was...but she deeply appreciated Tommy doing these things.

• in regards to feelings, Tommy was putting his out there as best as he could (which, well I'll let you be the one to decide on how well that is) He really tried to make a more personal connection with her; to get to know her as her and not just another employee...and in turn he let her know him.

• (Y/N) stayed professional. He was one of her bosses after all. But she couldn't deny that she enjoyed being in his presence. Her friends found that crazy, too...how can she be happy to be spending time with Tommy Shelby? She swore it off as strictly work related until she couldn't anymore.

• the evening started like any other...(Y/N) went home after work with the intention of doing what she did every other evening. But something was waiting for her at home. Something that turned her world upside-down. She found out that her grandmother had passed away. The post had come and one of the letters was from a sibling of hers, sharing the news. She didn't know what to do.

• after exhausting all of her options, she found herself at the Garrison. Tommy had invited her there in the past, but she never accepted it due to wanting to stay professional.

• she asked around for him and the second she found out that he was in the snug, she made her way to it and opened the door. He was in there, but so were his brothers. "This was the last place I could think of," she blurted out. "Everyone out," was all Tommy needed to say before it was just the two of them in the room.

• (Y/N) quickly sat and let everything out. Tommy listened intently, something no one had ever done for her in the past. They sat in the snug for hours, (Y/N) talking and Tommy listening. Her ability to share her grandmother's story helped her immensely.

• from that evening, (Y/N) saw Tommy in a different light. The fact that he sat and listened to her as she lamented to him and not once did he even think of leaving meant the world to her. No one had shown her that sort of worthiness or attention.

• all at once it felt like she was head over heels for him. Like all of those little instances he'd shown her before had all culminated into this one, major display of devotion. It had her realizing that maybe it wasn't solely because she was his employee...maybe it was much more than that.

• and so when he went out of his way and made sure to check on her the next morning - she knew this because Polly commented on the fact that he was supposed to be in London by sun-up - and he couldn't get him off of her mind no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't beat around the bush anymore...she'd fallen for Tommy Shelby, hard.

• but things didn't hit off right from that moment.

• no, it took a rather long time for those feelings to actually come out.

• there was a lot of dancing around the other - the smaller gestures and moments still occurred, but neither one was willing to make that jump over the edge and confront the other about it.

• yes, you read that right...Tommy Shelby was actually keeping his feelings for her close to the chest.

• mostly it was because of the position they were in. He'd offer to take her to dinner and she'd politely decline (even though she really wanted to go) because she was worried the other company employees would suspect something.

• Tommy wasn't exactly into the dancing around it (he hated it at times actually), but he honored her choice.

• but that doesn't mean he wasn't taking every chance he got to spend time around her. To check in on her and see how things were. To walk her home if she stayed later. Anything to show her that he was serious...without actually saying that he was serious.

• he was hooked on her though, there was no doubt about it. All he needed was for her to really show that interest back to him, and then he'd know for sure that he could act on it.

• and then Polly's birthday came.

• the company/family decided to host a party at the Garrison. Of course (Y/N) was invited.

• a man named Louis was one of the men who worked the shop floor daily. He saw (Y/N) almost every day that she was also on the floor, and he made it a point to seek her out as well.

• much like with Tommy, (Y/N) kept things between her and Louis strictly professional.

• but this party is when Louis decided that he was going to make his move...to try and woo her.

• maybe he should have thought this through...

• (Y/N) was sitting at one of the tables, chatting with some of the other women who worked within the company. It was a surprise that she wasn't with Tommy, considering he sought her out almost immediately after she arrived. But Tommy was still present though.

• Louis had this plan to put everything right on the table. He smoothly walked over to her and, equally as smoothly, slipped into the booth that she was sitting in. (Y/N) was polite, but it was obvious that she wasn't feeding any more into it than a simple, friendly conversation.

• but of course Tommy didn't pick up on that. From where he was standing it looked like Louis was a little too close to her for comfort. So he quickly intervened.

• and he was anything but subtle with it. He was quickly able to make Louis feel uneasy and clear him out.

• (Y/N)'s confused, but happy to have the man she'd hardly talked to gone. She sends Tommy an appreciative smile and that's just about enough to bring Tommy to his knees. But that doesn't happen...instead he gives her one of his signature, lop-sided smiles and nods at the ladies sitting with her before going back to where he previously was.

• this interaction didn't go unnoticed though. Polly and Ada were watching from off to the side. These two know Tommy better than anyone, and they've rarely seen him react this quickly and in this sort of way. So it's glaringly apparent to them that something's going on here.

• and this becomes increasingly apparent as time goes on.

• also as time goes on, (Y/N) manages to move up in the company. She's basically right underneath Polly in terms of power, becoming her 'right hand man’ in the treasurer position.

• having this position means that she's more involved in the inner circle and is at all of the meetings.

• the entire family swears by the fact that Tommy is softer with her than he is with anyone else.

• you can literally see the change the second she shares her thoughts on a matter or even enters a room. The switch is practically on a dime.

• but these two keep dancing around each other - they've been doing it for close to a year at this point.

• and those who know of it are baffled. They are obviously in love with each other...why hasn't one budged and made things official?

• the suspicions on this topic all come to a climax on the first year anniversary of (Y/N) joining the company.

• Tommy invites her out to dinner. (Y/N) agrees this time mostly because she knows what day it is...and she knows that the Shelbys like to celebrate such things.

• but she's surprised when she arrives at the upscale restaurant and is escorted to a table for two. Tommy can't help but smile at the face she pulls when she sees that he's sitting there, waiting for her.

• but she gets comfortable very quickly. It's Tommy we're talking about here...she's never been more comfortable with anyone in her life if she was being honest. And the same goes for him too.

• the dinner lasts hours. They talk about everything and anything. Work's off the table, but yet they still manage to not have more than a moment of silence. Both are surprised at how freely the conversation flows.

• eventually Tommy brings up the subject they've been dancing around.

• he lays everything out on the table this time. There's no sense in holding back. He tells her how she makes him feel, how she's made him feel from the moment he first saw her.

• he also mentions the fact that he's felt this way for a while now, and that he can't continue dancing around it any longer. He honored her desire to stay professional for this time, but he wants her too much, loves her too much to keep going like this for even a day longer.

• at first (Y/N)'s shocked. She's not oblivious...she'd been catching the little hints that he'd been leaving all this time, but she was truthfully too hesitant to ever bring the subject up to him.

• but now that he's put it out there, she figures why should she hold back her feelings any longer?

• so she lays it all out for him as well. Tells him how she feels about him, how she's felt about him for some time now.

• Tommy can't contain his happiness as he hears this. He's grinning like a fool.

• so really there's only one last thing for them to do now...make it official.

• Tommy wastes no time in doing that.

• he asks her properly though. That's what she deserves, especially after all this time that's been invested.

• he stops them just down the road from where she lives. He tells her that he really likes her (he won't use the 'l word' just yet - even though the two of them are so clearly in love) and that he can't wait a moment longer to make her his.

• (Y/N) quickly agrees with the sentiment after everything that had been shared during their dinner.

• Tommy can't help but smile at her response, and he just barely nods his head in his Tommy fashion before continuing to walk her home.

• they share their first kiss at the front door, and it's absolutely magical.

• they then proceed to do a terrible job of hiding it while at work. Tommy's waited this long to be with her, he's not going hide his affection for her any longer.

• their definition of 'in secret' is soooo far from the actual definition. They think that they're being sneaky, only stealing kisses in empty hallways and in Tommy's office, but it takes Polly literally only two days to catch onto it.

• no ones upset with it though. Honestly everyone’s happy that they’re finally together.

• well everyone except Louis…Louis is a little bummed about the whole thing. But Tommy and (Y/N) don’t care about that in the slightest.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby headcanons #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders headcanon #tommy shelby headcanon #peaky blinders headcanons #fanfiction #fanfic

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thekeeperof-thefandoms · 19 days

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Hazbin Hotel characters react to your stims

(I'm doing my personal favorite characters, so if there are others you wanna see, ask me. They may also be slightly OOC.)

Vox

You can't convince me this man doesn't also have ADHD. He's just spent decades masking it, as well as most of himself, to present a perfect image. Probably heard the term as it got more well known but didn't really connect the dots until meeting you.

He fidgets a lot, tapping his claws, bouncing his legs, can't sit in a fucking chair properly.

Doesn't realize he's overstimulated and burnt out from multi tasking dozens of screens until you point it out.

Once he's aware of it you help him manage his work better so he can be less stimulated and tense. You buy him proper fidget toys to mess with and he makes himself some top of the line bass boosted sound canceling headphones. He gives you a pair, too. When you're both alone, you look up songs with loaded bass in 8d just to watch each other twitch and involuntarily move your head with the sound.

That's about the extent of the conscious level of unmasking he'll do though. He gets self conscious.

But, he adores the fact you're comfortable enough to stim around him. Or in public. He can and will violently end people for even giving you dirty looks for stimming in public.

If you show excitement and joy over being around someone through happy noms he will literally get heart eyes. Just be careful where you bite him because it may lead to something else.

He's happy to let you stim, which means tricking him into doing it more.

He remembers and sub consciously absorbs your echolalias or any word replacements you use. If you do a lot of call and response vocals he learns them. (Call and response is basically when you memorize a sound with two people. One calls the other responds. You can just say both parts yourself ((I do)) but it's more satisfying with someone else).

If you do happy flappies this man will short circuit. (He will laugh if you accidentally smack yourself though).

If you squeal and kick you may give him a heart attack. He thought you were hurt or something. He gets used to it eventually but it still startles him.

Vox is also a chatter box so you two can info dump about special interests to each other for hours. Neither one of you expects the other to remember details, but the fact you don't tell each other to shut up and are content to do your own thing while listening to your partner/friend gush is enough.

He has long since forced himself into strict routines so if you struggle to get tasks started or get distracted in the middle of them he's understanding but stern. Tends to cause more harm than good because he talks down to you unintentionally.

If you're a visual/hands on learner he also gets frustrated with you for wasting hours trying to figure it out yourself and getting yourself upset instead of just letting him do it for you. You get into a lot of fights about it at first. He gets better when he sees it genuinely prevents you from enjoying things or trying new things and that you just kinda default to defeated and helpless. He didn't mean to make you feel dumb, he just doesn't understand why you wouldn't want help. Until the tables turn and as he's getting worked up over something he can't figure out and you just stare at him.

He finally snaps at you what the hell you're doing and you smirk "need help? Why don't I just do it for you and you watch? Come on, you've been struggling for an hour, stop being so stubborn and just let me do it. I'll show you later, it's not hard." You feed his own lines back at him and his stomach drops.

"Oh....that feels...mmmm. Nope! Don't like that. Ok. Won't happen again, doll."

Realistically if you work with him and you make mouth noises a lot (bird whistles, tongue clicks, humming, random shrieks) he will get annoyed. It's distracting him and sometimes you don't realize you're doing it and mess up anything he tries to record. The first few times he snaps at you and it causes problems (hello rejection sensitive dysphoria) but eventually he learns how to better talk to you/communicate without accidentally convincing you he hates you.

Alastor

Probably on the spectrum himself, but it also could just be his anti-social habits. Either way he finds you entertaining and your bouts of sporadic energy and gremlin like behavior don't phase him. He's been dealing with Niffty for years.

If you sing or hum a lot to get work done, or listen to music he's all for it. But if you're the type of ADHD where work fast music=horny and bass he'll insist you wear headphones. If you're content to listen to swing (he'll compromise with electroswing) or jazz, he'll play the radio for you.

He doesn’t even care if you're a good singer or not, he just likes seeing you get into it. Will show off by singing it better than you though.

If you're someone who picks your fingers or skin, he'll slap your hands. You bleeding is making him hungry and distracting him. He'll find you something else to do with your hands. Same with nail biting.

He tends to pull his hair when stressed so if you stim with your hair he gets it and unless it's harmful (eating/pulling) he'll leave it, but if you're like him he's either cutting your hair short or braiding it.

Will die before admitting it but thinks you flapping, hopping, clapping, squealing is the most adorable thing ever. Also, laughs at you if you smack yourself, though.

Doesn't understand your memes so half your echolalia go over his head and he just kinda stares at you.

Scolds you for not sitting in the chair properly.

Smiles, nods, and occasionally says "that's nice dear" when you info dump. It's not that he doesn't care, he just can't listen to something he's not interested in for that long.

Mouth noises make his eye twitch but so long as they don't interrupt him, he won't scold you.

He understands you're not dumb but he also doesn't have the patience to help your or wait for you to get things done so he does them for you and tells you stop pouting when you get upset with him.

He likes you enough to not reject your touch and enjoys being in your space, but please refrain from happy biting the cannibal. He will bite back and it's less cute when he does.

Lucifer

The original AUDHD. You two chatter for hours about special interests.

He makes you stim toys.

You two do the adhd laugh so hard over dumb shit you gotta hold onto and smack each other thing. You both wind up on the floor.

Literally would never talk down to you or trigger your RSD. He's spent centuries feeling like he's constantly annoying, dumb, and struggling to time manage and do tasks.

Is equally fed up with people offering to do things for him because he can do it he just needs help getting started. The more you ask if he wants you to do it or when he's gonna do it the harder it is. So you two just sorta hobble together a system for getting shit done.

It's not perfect but if it gets outta hand he can just snap his fingers and fix it.

He happy flaps with his hands and wings and constantly knocks you or other shit over. It embarrasses him but you're in love. You two sometimes hold hands to do the happy bounce squeal, shaking each other.

He initiates happy bites more than you do. Honestly you both start looking like chew toys.

You two echolali all the time and share new ones you find. If you ever can't find each other, just shout one of your current vocal stims and he'll respond.

Literally, the definition of choas couple.

#hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader

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macfrog · 10 months

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company cowboy like me chapter six

lfg i am so happy to finally be back writing!!! here's a new part of cowboy like me to celebrate - you can also catch parts one thru five over on my masterlist 🤍 love u all lmk ur thoughts whose side are we on with the argument? 😏

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel and his hands help you feel better after an argument with your dad

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! shower fun, handjob, fingering, bit of comeplay, like, allusions to exhibitionism?? not rly tho, dom!joel, unprotected p in v sex (i do not condone it unless it is fictional), praise kink, overstimulation, begging, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, grilled cheese consumption (for all my lactose intolerant babies i got u)

word count: 8.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Please let me cum, promise I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet.” He laughs, some smug, cocky laugh. If you had a sliver of energy and half the feeling in your body, you’d bat his arm. “Don’t want you to be quiet, angel. You wanted to get caught, remember? Get us caught, then. Let ‘em all hear just what you’re up to.” “No,” you moan, head shaking, “don’t wanna get caught. Just w-wanna cum. Please, Joel…”

The birds singing. A car passing by on the street outside. The dull buzz of the shower running, and the gentle humming of the man standing in it. Whichever one wakes you first, you don’t much care. Your eyes have fluttered open to find the bathroom door half-open, the steamed-up shower right ahead of you.

You can see his silhouette moving around. Hands raising to rub shampoo into his hair. Dipping to push soap suds down the trail from his belly button. You’re half-naked in his bed, still sore from your antics from the night before, and he’s winding that coil all over again. Just from showering.

You push yourself off the bed with a groan. Your thighs burn as you move them; between your legs feels just as tender. His t-shirt hangs off you.

You slowly wander over to the bathroom door and pause to listen. It’s one of his country songs he’s always playing in the truck. And this man swears he ain’t a country fan.

Your head leans against the doorframe. One gentle push and he’ll know you’re right here.

The t-shirt comes off in one swift movement, and in you go.

“Mornin’, baby,” he coos as you walk over the threshold. When he peers around the steamed-up glass, he notices your lack of clothing, and mumbles an Oh as you step inside.

“What time does Sarah’s flight get in?” you ask innocently. His eyes are making their way slowly down your figure.

“An–” He clears his throat. “An hour.”

“You got time, then?”

He smirks as you soak yourself under the hot stream of water, and says, “Always got time for you.”

Your hands cup his strong jaw and pull him down to you. He obliges, lips parting to crash against yours. Tongues twisting and curling around one another, hands squeezing and scratching and stroking bodies. His palms find your tits and he squeezes, pulling a moan from your lips.

“So fuckin’ needy,” he murmurs against your lips.

You smile back into the kiss, replying, “It’s all your fault.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” your hand starts travelling south, “got – me – fuck – all ruined.”

Joel’s already hard when your hands take hold of him. Like, fucking hard. So hard you actually look down as you grip him with both hands, awestruck by how quickly he’s turned on. When you look back up, a cocky smile fills his cheeks.

“Get goin’ then. I ain’t got all mornin’.”

“Fuck you.” You drag your hand up his length.

“That’s what I got you for,” he breathes, leaning his head back against the tile, eyes closing.

This is the part you like. Sure, Joel’s hot when he’s being dominant, fucking you senseless, whispering filth in your ear, even just the way his hands grip your body. But this – when he’s under your hand, right where you want him, right where he wants to be. This is it for you.

Watching him unravel at your touch, the way you squeeze him, pull him, take care of him; your words, sweet and smooth as honey in his ear, asking how good it feels, telling him how good he looks, peppering wet kisses down his neck and across his chest; and then, when he’s close, the way he pants and takes hold of your wrist, telling you without speaking exactly how to fuckin’ get him there.

When you feel his hips buck, you sink to your knees and hold the head of his cock on your tongue. He tilts his head to look down at you, mouth agape, hand on the back of your head. You stroke his length a few more times, the tip swirling over your pink lips, before he grunts, releasing all over your tongue, watching as you take every last drop.

“Good girl…” he whispers, over and over until he goes limp. You never take your eyes off of him as you lick your lips and swallow. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

When he comes down from his high, Joel takes your hands and pulls you back up to stand. He lazily bumps his nose against yours and then pulls you in, filling your mouth with his tongue. He groans into the kiss, tangling his hand in your hair, tasting himself on you.

“You know how good you are to me?”

Your face lights up when you look up at him. You could almost say something you think you’d regret afterward. When the wave of bravery washes down the drain with the water from above, you settle for your usual cocky teasing: “I know. You don’t gotta tell me.”

He laughs and turns you gently so your back is to him. He shifts your wet hair out of the way, and then begins to massage your shoulders. His hands drop down your arms, squeezing and rubbing, then back up, feeling their way over your breasts and down your stomach.

“Gonna make you feel nice ‘n better, after last night.”

Your lips fall open, silently begging him not to stop, to keep going further down, to fuck you with his fingers against the cool tile.

You forget he’s a mind reader. He’s already doing it before your thought is done.

Fingers run over your clit, already sensitive and swollen, and you gasp.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he whispers in your ear.

Your head falls back to his shoulder with a moan, and he kisses your neck, sucking softly on the sensitive spots that were between his teeth last night. His fingers rub you gently.

“So pretty for me, baby.”

You can feel your legs starting to give, but his free arm wraps around your waist, holding you up so that, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t collapse.

His fingers dip lower still, parting your lips, running through your folds. He’s so good, you think you might be dreaming. Then he inserts a curled finger and you know for sure, this is no dream.

“Joel…”

You squirm under his touch, and it only pushes him further. A second finger, stretching you out more, pressing up against the soft, spongey insides of your pussy. You grip onto his arm snaked around your waist with one hand, place the other against the tile to steady yourself.

“Doin’ so good, baby, that’s it. Just like that.” His voice is as smooth as whiskey in your ear, the drawl of his accent sending you as far as the fingers hooked inside your cunt.

Your breathing starts to stammer, your stomach tightening with your orgasm fast approaching. Joel inserts a third finger, making you cry out, and your head knocks into his shoulder again. Pleasure sparks between your legs, the weight of you riding on Joel’s hand, fire igniting through every nerve in your body.

“‘attagirl, all over me,” Joel coaches you through it, his other hand forced to let go of your waist to steady you both against the wall as your release doubles you over.

You come back to earth; stars in your vision, feeling the weight of him on your back, protecting you from the spray of water from the shower, chin still dipped over your shoulder.

“We’re good at this,” he whispers, and you give a blissful smile. “One day they’ll make a movie about us.”

You come back to reality with a hearty laugh, turning back around slowly. Joel’s arms snake around your waist and he pulls you in for a deep kiss.

“Maybe one day we could do that ourselves,” you tease.

He gives a smile which means more than it looks. You’re a mind reader, too. He likes that idea. He’s…considering it.

“I gotta go,” Joel says after some time.

You nod.

He follows you out of the shower and hands you the towel he’d sat on the counter for himself, dripping off to the linen closet in the hallway for another while you pat yourself dry. You scoop up his shirt and throw it over yourself, laying back down on his bed to wait for him finishing up getting ready.

Another thing you love doing: watching him. Whether he’s driving, grabbing a beer from the fridge, or just getting dressed like right now, you like to watch him. Study him. Know him better than he knows himself.

He doesn’t typically let you watch him do much – his hands are usually all over you with the precious little time you two get together – and when he clocks you staring over at him as he buckles his belt, he snorts.

“Besotted, ain’tcha?”

He stands at the foot of the bed. You say nothing back. Then he begins crawling up, knees apart to climb over your legs, and crouches over you as you giggle.

His head drops down to give you one last meaningful kiss before you know he has to leave. When you part, his forehead leans against yours.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” he softly says.

You don’t have a reply. At least, not one you want him to hear. Yet.

“Go pick up Sarah. I’ll be gone when you come back.”

He stands, and you take his offered hand to pull yourself up from the bed.

“Don’t have to be. I’ll tell her you wanted to surprise her.”

You shake your head. “I got work later anyways. And y’all deserve some time alone to catch up. I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Okay, darlin’,” he says in a mocking baby tone, pouting his lips. Pulls you in for a quick squeeze. Then turns and wanders off down the hall to the top of the stairs.

“How will you cope without being the center of my attention?” he calls back.

You smile to yourself and watch as his figure disappears. You stand on his carpet, still, silent, until the front door shuts and his truck engine hums in the drive.

Your eyes travel around his room. His unmade bed, one big dip in the middle of the mattress where your bodies had been pressed together, limbs intertwined, sharing breath. The small pile of your clothes Joel had laid out as you dozed, neatly tucked on a dresser, your phone laying on top. A framed photo of him and Sarah on his windowsill that makes your chest tighten when your eyes find it.

You turn away and start getting ready, picking up your clothes one by one. Your panties are missing – not that they’d be much use anyways, the last state you saw them in. It’d be hot to go commando if you thought Joel might find out; less hot when you’re just about to head off on a walk of shame back to your dad’s.

You wander around to Joel’s nightstand and roll the drawer open. Pick up a pair of white boxers and pull them on. As you leave, you throw his tee over your elbow.

He won’t notice it’s gone, right?

----------

You’re perched on your window seat, watching the quiet street below. It’s been two days since you last saw Joel, strolling down his hallway to go pick up Sarah. You’d been working the past couple days anyway, but your mind had been elsewhere.

You and Joel weren’t able to see each other for obvious reasons, but he was always at the end of the phone whenever you were bored and wanted attention. Truthfully, you’d spent every waking minute hanging over your cell, waiting for it to light up with a message or call from him.

You unlock it and scroll through the last few texts you’d exchanged.

Joel: Decorations were a hit. Should be all over Instagram or whatever

You: You’re welcome ;)

Joel: Don’t I get any credit?

You: You can take the credit for blowing my back out afterward. Let me have the decs

Joel: Fair.

You smile, reading back over the messages. You’d been trying not to bother him so much now that Sarah was back, but you’re struggling to find anything to distract your thoughts from him. What he’s up to, where he is, who he’s with…and not even in a jealous way. Just…because you miss him.

That’s the weird part. Missing him.

Sure, for the last two weeks, anytime your hands have been on your body, it’s Joel’s name passing your lips in breathy moans. But missing the sound of his voice? The smell of him?

That’s new. That’s weird.

There’s a knock at your bedroom door.

“Yeah?”

Your dad nudges in, toolbox in hand. “Hey, hon. Just thought I’d have a look at that latch on your window that keeps catchin’.”

“Oh,” you say, shifting from your seat. “Sure. Thanks.”

He sets the toolbox at the end of your bed, and you shift some cushions and blankets to sit beside it. As he’s digging through his tools, he glances up and notices the men’s large t-shirt laying strewn across your pillows.

“New shirt?” he asks.

You look over your shoulder. Fuck.

“Texas Rangers.” Your dad raises his eyebrows, nodding. “Impressed.”

“Yeah, I– I, uh…” You’re scrambling for some excuse, words tripping over one another in the scram to explain. “Got it at a thrift store the other day. It’s nice to sleep in, I guess.”

He hums and then turns, completely oblivious. “Might head over to Joel’s once I’ve done this, since I got the tools out. He has some pipe in his bathroom he reckons is leakin’. You wanna come? See Sarah for a bit?”

“Maybe…” you hum, not really listening. You’re typing a message out to Joel.

You: My dad just totally spotted your shirt on my bed…

Joel: So you’ve got my shirt? I was looking all over for it.

You: Is it really that much of a surprise? Had to say I’d thrifted it

Joel: Offended by the fact you wanted him to believe anyone would throw out a Rangers shirt

You: Well, he believed it, so what does that tell you, cowboy?

Joel: Given what we know your dad’s oblivious to right now, not a lot, kid

You: Speaking of, when can I see you?

Joel: Tough right now with Sarah being home. Sorry baby. Soon as we can, I promise.

You throw yourself back onto your bed with a sigh.

“Boy trouble?” your dad asks.

“Huh?” You sit up straight. What…the fuck?

He chuckles, messing around with the window, his back turned to you. “Awfully big sigh. I know that sigh. Who is he?”

If Joel were in the room right now, he’d be masking his laughter behind a closed fist at the mere sight of your face. You stare at your dad’s back for a decent amount of time, long enough for him to turn back and look at you.

“You hearin’ me?” he asks. “It someone I know? It ain’t your friend Sam from Frank’s, is it? That boy don’t know his hand from his foot at the best ’a times. You can do better than him.”

“It ain’t a boy. And I appreciate the advice, but I’m good, Dad.”

“Speakin’ of advice…” He walks slowly over to the bed, switching out some tools. “I got this supplier whose daughter works in human resources at…uh…some company, downtown. Name escapes me. He was tellin’ me it’s good money, lotta hours…Said she’d be happy to meet with you if you wanted to go in for an interview.”

“I…I’m okay, I think. Thanks, though.”

“Sure? I thought maybe you’d wanna be lookin’ for something a little more…permanent.”

“I will,” you reply, glancing down at your phone. No new messages. “I just…I’m happy at Sal’s right now.”

“Right, right. And Sal’s been real good to you, kiddo.”

“I kinda wanna see what I can get with my degree anyway.”

Your thumbs dance over the keyboard, still hunting for attention from Joel, and searching for the right words to get it. You’re barely even present in the room with your dad when you hear him ask, “Film? You really think there’s gonna be much out there?”

Your head whips up. He’s sauntering back over to the window. Your phone lands with a thud on your bed beside your thigh.

“Uh…I don’t know. ‘s why I wanna look.”

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

He shakes his head, screwing something into your window frame. “Naw, I just…don’t know what you’re gonna find, is all.” He chuckles a little. Kinda chuckle that makes your fists ball.

You watch him through thin eyes, pulling your bottom lip under your teeth. “Well, I got Sal’s to keep me goin’ until I do find somethin’.”

Your dad doesn’t reply. You stare him down until he turns around, notices you, and raises his brows, forehead crinkling.

When he dives back into the toolbox instead of responding, you start to feel heat in your belly.

You speak through your teeth. “Is that…Is it okay?”

“Sure, hon. I ain’t tellin’ you what to do.”

“Well, you ain’t tellin’ me much else, though, so…”

“I’m only thinking,” he lifts his palms, your eyes trace them, “your degree is very specific. And there maybe isn’t a lot of specific work down this way for somethin’ like film. That’s all. I thought HR might be a good move.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. He’s closing over the metal lid.

“Then why’d I go through four years of studying it?”

“Because it interested you. And because you were good at it–”

“So, shouldn’t I be doin’ something with it?”

“–but ultimately, hon, a degree’s just a degree, you understand?”

Your face screws up, lip curled. “Huh?”

“Lotta folks don’t got a degree. Lotta folks get one, and it goes to waste. They spend all that money, all that time…and work part-time in some dead-end job for the rest of their lives. Chasin’ a career that’s never comin’.”

You choke back a laugh, a stunned, confused, livid laugh. Your lips tremble and twist in and out of different shapes, trying to form words that your voice won’t speak.

“You worked damn hard to get that degree. Now, use it. Use it right.”

He slaps the toolbox closed and starts trotting out of your room, and you find your voice.

“Oh, screw you!”

Your dad’s hand hooks around the doorframe and he turns back. “Pardon me?”

“What fuckin’ right do you have to tell me I’m gonna end up in a dead-end job? Ain’t a job a job?”

“Woah, kiddo,” he holds a hand out, “no, no, that’s not what I’m sayin’. Not at all.”

“You’re saying I should give up tryna get a job I actually want, and get a real job, right? That– That film ain’t much of a thing? I worked my ass off for nothin’?”

“No, you worked your ass off for everything, and you deserve to find somethin’ that rewards all your hard work.”

“Oh, what the fuck does that even mean?” You throw your arms up, striding across the room.

He shakes his head with a sigh. “It means – I just want what’s best for you. I was just thinkin’ out loud, honey. That’s all.”

In one sweep, he’s gone. The toolbox rattles down the hall and recedes into background noise. You’re stood in a cloud of rage at your door, breath coming hard and fast out of your nose, staring at the empty hallway before you.

You stalk over to your bed and your thumbs finally figure out what to send to Joel.

You: Are you free to talk real quick??

He’s calling you within thirty seconds.

“What’s up?” his voice speaks before you even open your mouth, and instantly you feel yourself calming.

“Are you eating?”

“Mhm. Grilled cheese.”

You can hear the chewing sounds through the receiver.

“You mind swallowing before you talk?”

“Sorry, darlin’,” he chuckles a little, then clears his throat. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Just…” You sigh. “Fuck…I don’t even know.”

Your head falls into one hand as you pace back and forth.

“I had this argument with my dad; he’s goin’ on about careers and jobs and using my degree – but to do somethin’ I don’t wanna do. Then, he’s makin’ out like I’ll never find a job in film, or in anything I want. And he said that– He basically said that I’ll be in a dead-end job forever, ‘less I go work in human resources.”

Joel’s quiet for a few seconds until he realizes you’re done. “’sec, baby, I got a mouthful of grilled cheese over here.”

You roll your eyes and, after a gulp, his voice floats back through your phone.

“He wants you to– Human resources, I hear that right?”

“Yup. He says it’s a good place to be, apparently.”

“Your dad, the contractor?”

You throw your arm up in the air again. “Thank you!”

Joel and his laughter cut you short before you start another rant.

“Alright, alright, first of all…you already got a job, and it’s a good, steady job; you like it, you’re happy enough there, right?”

“Mhm,” you agree.

“Mhm. So that’s not an issue. Second, you’re twenty-three. That’s still young, darlin’. You got your whole life to try and find somethin’ you really like. Hell, I didn’t figure it out until I had Sarah. You got time. Don’t worry about it.

“And third: who gives a fuck what your dad thinks? If you’re happy, what’s it matter what him or anyone else says?”

You nod, sitting down on your bed. Your eyes are starting to well.

“Hm?” Joel beckons.

“Yeah,” you squeak.

“Don’t you worry that pretty little mind, baby. It was just an argument. He wants what’s best for you, ‘n if I know him half as well as I do, he just got his words a little jumbled up.”

“I’m still fuckin’ mad at him, though,” you mumble.

Joel laughs. “Yeah. ‘n I reckon you’re allowed to be, for a little bit.”

“Thanks. Sorry for interruptin’ you ‘n your grilled cheese.”

“’s alright. I gotta make you one of these next time you’re over here, I’m a master at ‘em. Sarah’s favorite.”

You lay back on your bed, giggling. “I’m gonna hold you to that, y’know.”

“Oh, I know, kid. Hey, I was actually thinking of dropping by tomorrow mornin’, got some papers your dad wants to take a look at. Figured I’d catch ‘im before he goes off to work.”

You feel your heart swell just at the thought of him being in front of you, actually in person, standing right there. Cotton-covered chest to be touched, worked hands to be held, rough but gentle lips to be kissed.

Hard cock to be – never mind.

“Yeah?” you say, coolly, trying not to let him in on the butterflies swirling around your stomach.

“Yep. Better be awake. I’ll want my t-shirt back.”

“Setting my alarm as we speak.”

----------

You’re in the kitchen making breakfast when you hear the front door open, and an all too familiar Texas drawl.

“Anybody home?”

You lean back from the counter and stare down the hallway toward the door, which he closes and turns to face you.

“Hello, darlin’.”

“Hi,” you mutter, smiling.

“Dad in?”

You nod. “Upstairs. Getting ready.”

His fingers tug on your t-shirt sleeve. His t-shirt sleeve.

“Nice shirt.”

You give a bashful smile, but he’s grinning. The fucker loves seeing you in his clothes as much as you love wearing them. He doesn’t care.

Joel sets his papers on the countertop and runs a hand through your hair, sweeping it out of your face. You lean into his touch by instinct, then catch yourself, and move away, but Joel stays where he is.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

“Mhm. Want some cereal?”

He smiles, shaking his head, then lowers his chin and softly presses his lips to yours.

Your hands drop the box like it’s scorching hot, and link around his neck. He pushes against you, pinning you to the counter.

If it weren’t for the thudding of your dad’s footsteps down the stairs right then, you’d probably ask Joel to fuck you right here and now in your kitchen. You’re that needy.

“Hey, partner,” your dad calls when he notices Joel, now standing a good four feet away from you, papers back in his fist.

You pour some milk in the bowl and lean back against the island, cereal in hand.

“Brought that paperwork.” Joel lifts his fist, and your dad nods gratefully.

“Hey,” your dad says, turning to you and knocking your shoulder with his index finger. “Here’s the number of that guy’s daughter I was talkin’ about…”

You take a deep breath, studying the card in his hand, the name Vanessa Hart printed below some logo. Joel notices your expression when your dad holds it out between two fingers. He knows y’all fought – though he’s not meant to – but he doesn’t know you two haven’t spoken since. You ate dinner in your room alone last night.

The look in your eye catches him up just fine.

“What’s this?” Joel asks, returning the papers to the counter behind you and taking the business card from your dad’s hand. He tosses it over before passing to you. You wordlessly take it, sliding your bowl alongside his paperwork.

“She’s been thinkin’ about work. Lookin’ around for somethin’ a little more…challenging, than retail anyway. Right?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Right.”

Joel looks at you intently. Knowingly. “Thought you wanted to be a journalist, or something? Film…? No?”

You glance up at him. “I, um…”

“This is maybe somethin’ a little more realistic, y’know.” Your dad shifts from foot to foot, almost awkwardly.

“She got a degree in film,” Joel mutters, almost leaning into you to make you answer. Your eyes travel along to his shoulder. “You like film, right?”

“I like film. Yeah. It was good.”

“So, you don’t wanna do somethin’ with that?”

Your shoulders tense as you look up at him, trying to answer him honestly and at the same time, stop another heated discussion from happening between you and your dad, who then initiates that discussion himself by piping up.

“What’s Sarah doin’, again, Joel?”

You wince, knowing what’s about to happen.

“Sports Science.” Joel’s voice feels dangerous. He’s still staring at you. Vanessa’s card is beginning to tremble in your hands as you flip it over and over.

“See? Now, that, I would understand. That’s a great degree. Not that yours isn’t,” your dad shoots you a look as he’s packing his lunch into his bag, “just that, with Sports Science, I mean…she could do lotsa stuff.”

“I could do lots with film, too, Dad.” You try to mask the anger through your teeth.

“Like what?”

Joel sighs under his breath. Your eyes dart across his. You take a deep breath, steady yourself.

“Like…journalism, or production, or promotion. Lots of behind-the-scenes stuff.”

“I’m just tryna look out for you, kiddo, just tryna be realistic. Like I said last night, there aren’t so many opportunities in that sorta stuff down here. Fine, up in New York, but in Austin? Nah.”

“Maybe you just gotta move back to New York. I’ll come with ya,” Joel says, shrugging, with an expression that elicits a laugh from you. He looks relieved to see you smile.

Your dad clears his throat and takes a step closer to you. Your smile fades as quickly as it appeared.

“I just want what’s best for you. The arts…ain’t really a steady job. Somethin’ like Sports Science, see, now, that’s safe. That’s a good choice.”

“A good choice,” you echo, your face flushing. “So, mine wasn’t a good choice?”

“No, it’s just that–”

“Why are we havin’ this same conversation again, Dad?” You throw the card behind you on the counter. “I said I’d do my own thing, in my own time, and you come up with even more to shove in my damn face. You can’t just leave it? Not even for one day?”

“Aw, c’mon, hon, film? Tell me what you found, lookin’ for jobs in film. Go on.”

Joel’s head cocks and he holds a hand out. “Alright, that’s enough.”

“No, tell me. I’m seriously askin’. What did you find? ‘cause I’ve been lookin’, kiddo–”

You scoff. “Oh, you’ve been looking.”

“Yes, I have, which seems to be a damn sight more ‘n you’ve done, and there ain’t nothin’. Now, I’m sorry for bringing it up. I thought I was doin’ a good thing. Thought you’d appreciate me helpin’ out.”

“Sure. I appreciate you steppin’ foot where you ain’t wanted. And then insulting me while you’re at it.”

Your dad sighs and lifts his arms, bringing them down onto his thighs with a clap. Then he picks his bag up, slings it over his shoulder, and turns back to you.

“I just wanted to help. I’m gone, alright? Joel, thanks for those, I’ll take a look when I’m home.”

Without another word, he strides down the hall and heads out the front door.

Joel’s hand immediately wraps around your arm.

“Hey,” he says when you turn away, tears forming. “Woah, hey. It’s alright.”

He pulls you into his chest and rests his chin on your head, and you bury your face into his shirt, groaning with rage. He rubs the back of your head and hushes you as you weep into his chest.

He pulls away, cupping your chin and pushing the hair out of your face. You’re still bubbling away, Joel’s thumbs wiping away tears hot with anger from your cheeks.

“I’m not crying ‘cause I’m upset,” you sniff, and he nods, softly caressing your face. “I’m crying ‘cause I’m fuckin’ angry.”

“I know, baby,” he fusses. “He’s bein’ an ass, no doubt about that.”

“I told you.” You ball your fists and lightly bump them against his strong chest. “Fuckin’ dick.”

“Fuckin’ dick,” Joel agrees, and you laugh. “Tell me what to do to make you feel better.”

You lean back, Joel’s hand locked around yours to stop you from falling. A dark thought crosses your mind, and you do your best not to let it show through your eyes. Joel seems oblivious when he reels you in and your hands come to rest on his pecs.

“I dunno,” you mumble, eyes stuck on the fabric of his shirt.

“Must be somethin’. What do you want me to do?”

“Just…stick around for a bit? Keep me company.”

“Company, huh? What’s that entail?”

“We could…watch a movie?” Your fingers flirt with the collar of his open shirt. “…could…talk…?”

Joel studies you as you slowly peel the button-up from his shoulders, letting it rest on his biceps.

“Darlin’,” he murmurs, realizing where you’re at, “I got stuff I should be doin’ today.”

“I know. Just…make me feel better first.”

He sighs, looking at you from beneath his brows. His shirt is hanging from his elbows, his palms planted firmly against your waist. His hands are squeezing you just enough to encourage you to keep going.

“Won’t be long. Promise. You can have your shirt back, after it.”

You angle your jaw and smile sweetly at him, and he lowers his to meet you halfway. Your breath hot against his lips, you whisper, “’s not like either of us are gonna last longer than five minutes, anyway,” and he closes the space between you.

When your lips connect, Joel pushes off the counter and begins backing you toward the couch.

“I love,” you breathe into the kiss, “when you do that.”

“Do what?” he mutters back, lifting the hem of your top.

You fall back onto the couch and Joel follows.

“Give in to me.”

He pulls back, eyes skimming across your half-naked body, t-shirt ruffled up to the bottom of your bare breasts.

“That’s all I do, baby.”

You open your legs beneath him and his hips slot between yours, hardening jeans rubbing against your sleep shorts. His tongue leaves wet marks down your neck and across your collarbone, hands creeping further up your naked torso.

When you buck your hips, Joel understands, and takes the waist of your shorts in tight fists, pulling them off your legs in one movement. His hand comes down to cup your sex and shift your underwear aside. He’s moving without thinking; it’s instinct by this point. He knows exactly what to do to get you where he wants you.

His fingers move around your folds, dancing in and out of your entrance, rubbing your clit. It’s not enough. It’s never fucking enough. You whine, and he listens again, slipping two fingers inside your wet cunt.

Your back arches, chest rising to meet his. A sigh of relief passes your lips, finally feeling his body on – and in – yours again.

“We– I don’t wanna– fucking hell, Joel– I can’t wait this long for you,” you whimper, as he dips his jaw to suck a bruise into your neck.

“Hm?”

“Too – fucking – long. I need you – all the fuckin’ time.”

He’s humming against your hot skin. Your fingers are knotting in his hair, dark brown flecked with streaks of gray tangled around your knuckles.

His fingers burrow deeper, stretching your wet pussy out just right. You clench around him.

“Need you,” you breathe again, “all the time.”

“You got me, pretty girl,” Joel coos, lips now dancing across yours. “I’m here now.”

Your foreheads lock like they always do, Joel’s eyes trained on yours like they always are. He fucking loves watching you, loves the way your eyes glaze over and you submit to whatever he wants to do to you. I started it, and I know how to finish it.

His thumb begins to rub your clit, pad drawing circles around and round. Your hips lift again in response, and you feel a smirk pull on Joel’s lips. You’re writhing under his touch, the entire room filling with filthy moans of his name and of yours, tangling together in the air and knotting as tight as the pressure building in your stomach.

You reach down and begin to unbuckle his belt, hands weaving around Joel’s wrist to gain access to his jeans. Your fingers graze the rough teeth of his zipper when you hear something outside.

The sound of a car door slamming.

Your lips freeze against Joel’s. His hand stops dead against your core.

“Was that–?”

The front door bursts open and the hallway fills with the early morning light.

Joel heaves himself off of you, scarpering to the other side of the room as you straighten up, slam your sensitive legs closed and kick your shorts under the couch. Your tee is long enough to cover your thighs, only if you stay seated.

Your dad rounds the corner to the room just as you both assume position.

“Joel still around? His truck’s– Oh, hey, bud. What the hell you still doin’ here?”

Joel clears his throat. “She, uh– She said somethin’ was up with the TV. Bad signal or somethin’, right?”

“Right.” You nod almost furiously.

Your dad blinks. Looks from you, to Joel, to the TV behind him. Which is switched off.

You toe the line between still mad at your dad, and wanting to appear totally innocent. “Joel was just having a look. He, uh…switched it off.”

“Waitin’ for it to reboot.” Joel sways back to hold a steady – slick-covered – hand to the TV set. You wince as he notices your gleaming wet coating his fingers, unreadable expression on his face, and calmly holds them behind his back.

“That so?” your dad says, pouting his lips. “I didn’t notice anything last night.”

Joel doesn’t reply, instead choosing to let the moment pass in awkward silence until your dad changes the subject. Joel knows him better than most, and it works in the end, but you wish he’d just fucking say something to take your mind off of the hand he’s currently hiding behind his back and your shorts disturbing the dust under the couch.

“Left my hardhat,” your dad says, almost flatly. “You seen it, kiddo?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

“You wanna help me look?”

Right now? With no pants on? And your best friend stood less than six feet away? You know what, I’m good, Dad.

“Not really.”

He sighs and shakes his head to Joel, a Can you believe her?

Joel sputters out a forced chuckle, which he cuts short when he notices your sharp glare in his direction.

When your dad disappears upstairs, you fish your shorts out and throw them on.

“That,” Joel leans into you, motioning to where your dad was just standing, “was too damn close, you hear?”

“How was I supposed to know he’d come back?” you hiss.

“If we’re–” another flappy hand movement between the two of you, “y’know, we gotta be on alert for any–”

“We–” you mimic his gesture, “thought we had an empty house. If he walks in on somethin’, then that’s–”

“Don’t tell me that’s on him, kid.” Joel tilts his head, inviting you to finish your sentence with something more sensible. Before you can answer, your dad calls out.

“Got it!”

His boots thud back down the stairs.

You and Joel spring back to your positions, an unassuming two meters of carpet separating you both. Your dad stands at the opposite end of the coffee table, holding his hardhat up like it’s a trophy.

“Alright,” you clap your hands, “see ya, then.”

You brush past him toward the kitchen, feigning grabbing a drink. In your wake, you hear him mumble something to Joel about you not forgiving him just yet. Joel doesn’t laugh.

Eventually, he doddles off to the door, and Joel slowly follows. You hear the click of the door handle, and the hallway floods with light again, tile floor painted with Joel’s silhouette. When the sound of the engine trudges off into the distance, the door slams shut, and his figure materializes beside you once again.

You’re holding a bottle of water against your lips. Not drinking. Joel takes the bottle and sets it down on the counter.

He doesn’t speak. Barely even looks at you. Just takes your waist and hoists you up onto the kitchen counter. It’s cold under your bare thighs, but he lifts your knees and tugs at the waistband of your shorts, slipping them off for the second time in, what, ten minutes?

You sit still and watch him, stood between your legs, looking you up and down. His gaze falls to his still soaked fingers, and with a blank expression, like it’s as normal as passing you the sauce over dinner, he lifts his hand.

“Wanna clean up your mess for me?”

He presses the pads of his fingers to your bottom lip. Asks you without words to part them.

Your mouth falls open, not because you tell it to, but because his words pour a fog over your entire body that dumbs you senseless. That same intoxicating drawl, the way his head tilts with every perfectly innocent question laced with just the right amount of filth to have you do whatever the fuck he tells you.

He pushes his fingers into your mouth, resting them on your tongue.

“Now, pretty girl. Put that mouth to good use.”

“Joel–” you mumble into his knuckles, but he shushes you.

“Clean. Them.”

In a fluttering haze, you close your mouth around his thick fingers and suck, tongue slipping over them, under, between. Joel watches almost dangerously, like a wild animal watching its prey. He’s focused entirely on your wet lips, the way they’re bobbing up and down over his knuckles.

His fingers are sweet, coated in your thick arousal, and when you loosen your jaw, he pushes them in further. Almost chokes you with the way he forces them back. His eyes are dark, clouded over by the way your pretty little mouth looks. The way it feels, choking and spitting all over him.

When your eyes close over, his free hand comes up to cup the back of your head.

“Look at me, baby,” he murmurs, and your eyes flutter back open; light seeps into your vision and chases everything but the man between your legs out of focus.

You can’t taste yourself on him anymore. He tastes like Joel again. But he doesn’t stop. His fingers hit the back of your throat, and he only withdraws them when you gag.

He slips out, soaked in your saliva, and his wet hand falls back to place on your thigh.

You’re breathing heavily, drool dripping from your lips, but you know for a fucking fact if you move to wipe it, he’ll stop you.

His grip on the back of your neck tightens suddenly.

“You wanna act like a little whore? You get treated like one.”

His hand moves to his waistband and he undoes his own belt, batting away your fingers when you try to help.

He lets you link your arms over his shoulders as he messily unzips his jeans, tugging them down only a little. His rough hand grabs your knee and hooks it over his elbow, opening your legs wide for him.

“J…”

“Shut up.”

Now’s not the time for talking. He’s got a glassy expression in his eye that you don’t recognize. He doesn’t want to fucking talk. He wants you to make him cum.

“Wanted me to fuck you on your dad’s couch, huh? Wanted to make a mess in his livin’ room?”

“Mhm,” you whine, and he lifts your ass up to bring a hand down on it. Shut up.

“’n what if he’d walked in a few minutes later than he did? Saw the pair of us? That what you want?”

You bite your lip and look at him under hooded lids; answer enough. Nah, you didn’t want your dad to see you guys. But, fuck, you liked the thought of being caught.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he’s murmuring, lining up to your cunt, pre-cum soaking the reddened tip of his cock. You’re staring at it, mesmerized, mind totally blanked by it.

“Look at you,” he whispers roughly, “drunk on it, aren’t you darlin’? You want it inside you?”

You nod, but it doesn’t matter. The slightest movement of your head and he’s pushing inside you, stretching your tight hole around the thick head of his cock.

Joel groans and his head falls back, eyes on the ceiling. He makes it halfway in before he’s pulling back again.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“Shut – the fuck – up,” he replies, hips pushing forward into yours again.

You bite back a whine as he pushes further and further, filling you up, pain and pleasure and fucking bliss rippling through you, driven by Joel.

He wastes no time letting you adjust, no long, slow strokes. No tender kisses or fingers guiding his dick in. He picks up a dangerous pace from the outset, hips snapping into yours, bouncing you against the kitchen counter.

This is what this is, isn’t it? This whole thing between you guys. You have needs; Joel has needs. You’re just both coincidentally very good at helping the other meet their needs. What’s wrong with that, right?

Your head starts to swim with the feeling of Joel’s cock spearing you, the image of your kitchen floating in and out of focus, the thought of being one doorway away from being caught. You imagine Marcia in her backyard, almost in plain view of you two right now, seeing you propped up on the counter with your dad’s best friend between your legs, fucking the hell out of you.

And then your eyes find Joel again, beads of sweat at his forehead, cheeks flushed. He meets your lazy gaze and his hand takes your jaw, thumb and finger on each side.

“Good?” he asks, breathless, teeth gritted.

You nod.

Then Joel nods. “Good.” His eyes close over and he fucks you even harder onto his length, hurting so good every time your bodies connect.

The heat is stifling, not from the Texan summer, but from the two of you – sweating, panting, fucking off one another, bodies slipping against and sticking. The air fills thick with your stifled moans, Joel’s bitten grunts, the slapping of skin, your wet mixing with his.

You can’t take it anymore. Your head lulls back with a loud, long moan. Joel knows that moan.

“Think I should let you cum?” he asks. “You think you deserve it?”

“Fuck – please – Joel,” you’re panting, and he spanks your ass again. It doubles you over; your head collapses against his shoulder.

“Mm,” he hums, contemplating. “Dunno if you do, babygirl.”

“L-let me cum,” you plead, tears falling from your eyes, electricity whirling around your core. Your head rolls around on his strong shoulder. “’m so close.”

“Know you are, darlin’. ‘s too easy to do this to you,” Joel pants, breath jerking each time his hips do. “Get so wound up for me, every damn time.”

“Joel,” you’re begging now, unable to loosen your grip on his shoulders. “Fucking – please.”

“Come over for five minutes and you can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”

You whimper in response, the feeling between your legs turning to tightly-wound pain. Your hands have come down to hold onto the edge of the counter, marble cutting into your damp skin under your grip.

“Want to…Want…”

“Tell me, baby. Talk.”

“Want to cum, Joel,” you pine, eyes screwing shut.

“I’m gonna let you, pretty girl. You don’t gotta worry about that. Just gotta ask nicely, huh?”

“Fuck,” you whisper, stars and tears clearing from your vision to reveal him once more. You don’t have the fucking energy to beg him anymore. Not like this. “Please, Joel.”

“Nicer.”

“Please let me cum, promise I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet.”

He laughs, some smug, cocky laugh. If you had a sliver of energy and half the feeling in your body, you’d bat his arm.

“Don’t want you to be quiet, angel. You wanted to get caught, remember? Get us caught, then. Let ‘em all hear just what you’re up to.”

“No,” you moan, head shaking, “don’t wanna get caught. Just w-wanna cum. Please, Joel…”

You shake your head, pathetic beg painted all over your face. Joel’s expression falters, softens, only for a nanosecond, but you know him well enough to notice it. Something in his exterior breaks, something cracks.

“Then why didn’t you fuckin’ say so?” he coos. His arms wrap around you – finally – holding you up against his torso, his lips pressed to your ear. “Come on, darlin’, you can let go.”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before it happens. Your orgasm floods over you, pulsing from your soaking pussy up and across your stomach, lighting your shoulders and tightening your grip on Joel. You bite into his shoulder, muffling a sob as your walls contract, coil snaps, tension relieves.

You fucking hurt. All over. You don’t even feel him pull out, don’t realize he’s gone until he’s pumping cum all over your stomach, jacking himself to the sound of you coming undone. It’s only when you come around and feel the hot wet rolling down your tummy that you notice.

Joel’s breathing is labored. His dark tee has sweat patches under the arms, along his chest. You can feel it on his back.

You lean against him for what feels like hours, legs either side of him, his soft dick on your stomach, cum seeping into your panties. He lets you, just holds you tight and gently sways, listening to your breath slowly steadying, feeling your body stop shaking.

His voice is nothing but vibrations under your cheek, resting safely on his chest. Your ears are still ringing too loud to actually hear the words he says.

When you don’t reply, Joel’s hands cup your cheeks and lift your head to face him. You read the words on his lips.

“Need to know you’re okay before I go.”

“I’m okay,” you mumble.

“Can you walk?”

Your eyes roll back by themselves as he takes a step back, one hand around yours, the other braced in case you fall. You slip off the counter shakily, and, with as much effort as it’d probably take to go for a hike right now in the sun, you stand straight.

“I can take it,” you tell him.

Joel takes a deep breath. “Know you can, baby. Did so well for me.” He tugs his tee down over your stomach to cover the mess he’s made. “You want help cleaning up?”

You give one lazy shake of your head, almost entirely leaning on your shoulder. “I’m gonna head for a shower anyways.”

He takes your shorts and kneels, pulling them back over your legs one by one. You’re bracing yourself on his shoulders, and he stands as he settles them on your waist.

Joel gives your hand a gentle pull and leads you down the hallway. You walk with him, knees weak, to the front door. Joel holds it open and you let go of his fingers to step into the burning sun, hand coming up to shield your eyes. The breath of fresh air wakes you up from your state a little.

“Bright one,” you murmur, as his shoulder comes to meet yours.

“Oh, mornin’, Joel,” Hank calls from the sidewalk as he hobbles by, newspaper under his arm. He sings your name and you nod back in greeting. “You’re both up ‘n about early.”

“Broken TV,” Joel waves back, turning to look at you, “and a few other things needed fixin’.”

Hank nods and keeps walking. When he rounds the corner toward his own house, you glance back at Joel.

“What?” you ask.

“Still wearin’ my shirt.”

“You want it back now? Here ‘n now?”

“If you’re offering a striptease, baby, I’ll take it. Out here or inside, I don’t mind.”

You slap his arm and turn back to head inside. “I’ve had enough of you today.”

“You call me anytime that TV starts playin’ up, darlin’,” he calls over his shoulder.

You blindly throw your middle finger up over your shoulder in response, and feel his strong fingers wrap around your wrist. He tugs you back, and you swirl around to meet his stoic gaze.

“Day or night,” he tells you, “you call me.”

He walks off to his truck.

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#joel miller #joel miller fic #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fic #cowboy like me

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nonstoplover · 9 months

Text

sleep without you ~ charles leclerc (cl16)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

song inspiration: sleep without you ~ brett young

summary: charles struggles to function properly without her by his side, or a story of a night without his girlfriend.

words: 2.1K

warnings: nothing, just fluff and a slightly clingy charles baby <3

a/n: idk why but this song honestly screams charles to me whenever i hear it, so i just had to make it happen. also this was supposed to be posted on my one year f1-aversary as celebration (well technically it should be more if counting my childhood f1 years but anyway), but i was so caught up in another wip that i couldn't do it. so happy anniversary to me and f1 (two weeks late) with this lil ficlet <3 thankful for all that f1 gave me.

big thanks to the amazing lovely silverstonesainz for helping me make this better and to the equally awesome monzabee for making me much less anxious with her words. love you sm queens!!

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

Charles spends a whole afternoon trying to convince her to have a night out with her friends. Just because they're in a relationship doesn't mean they can't have fun without the other as well from time to time. There are still a couple of weeks left of winter break, plenty of opportunity to spend time just the two of them before the season starts again. So the usual point of view, the usual reasoning doesn't stand a chance – that they should spend as much time together as they can, before he's back to travelling all around the world.

"Go to a club, grab some drinks, dance and laugh the night away", he tells her. The usual bestie coffee dates or walks in the park that she usually raises as argument are not the same as a night out, and she hasn't done that for so long now. Definitely not since he's been back home, and he knows just how much she enjoys dancing her heart out.

(y/n) agrees after a short while, accepting his reasons, knowing full well that he's right, and after a few phone calls she starts getting ready, soon walking out the front door, dressed all pretty and dolled up.

Doesn't take long before Charles realises what he's done. A feeling tingles in his chest, one he recognises swiftly. He's miserable. Solely because she's not there by his side, as he makes dinner, eats it – all by himself –, before settling on the couch to occupy himself with a movie. It doesn't matter though, he doesn't pay any attention to it. He doesn't even know what's going on, he hasn't heard a single line, too busy thinking about her.

When the credits start to roll, he switches the TV off with a surprised look in his eyes – how did it already end? He doesn't even remember the first scene ending. Then he moves into the bathroom to do his night routine, from taking a shower to putting on some skincare products, all the while wondering how long she will be out for? Will she come home soon? Hope tingles in his chest that the answer to his question is yes.

Having finished with everything, Charles lies down in bed, trying to read a book, then scrolling on social media, doing anything to keep his mind from straying over and over again back to her. He knows this is stupid, he was the one telling her to go out, why is he like this now? Lying awake on his side of the bed, the fingers on his right hand tracing figures onto the sheet where her body usually rests.

This is pathetic, Charles thinks. He never thought he would be like this, so miserable and impatient just because she's not at home, with him. He's tossing around, unable to find a comfortable position for himself – it seems like he forgot how to sleep without her. No matter how many times he's had to do just that, in hotel rooms all around the world. The past few weeks erased all those nights from his mind.

The delicious scent of her shampoo fills his lungs when his face lands just a bit too close to her pillow, and all of a sudden it's like he's burying his nose in her hair. It only makes him miss her more. Sleeping is impossible, he knows it now. He's only daydreaming, not actually dreaming, of her arriving home and being in his arms again.

Charles imagines the way she dances in the middle of the floor, her hands in the air, shouting the lyrics loudly to the song currently playing – most probably something she knows and loves –, and he can't help but smile fondly. Just the thought of her having fun is enough to make him happier, even in his misery.

He pictures a scene where a random guy tries to get too close to her, as it has happened so many times, whenever he leaves her alone for a few minutes at any club they've been to. It doesn't matter where they are, doesn't matter if they spent the night so far together, all over each other, someone comes into the picture immediately when he leaves, either to grab a drink for the two of them, or to go to the restrooms.

It's not like he doesn't understand those guys. She's simply gorgeous, and radiates such a vibrant aura that everyone is drawn to her. He honestly just finds it funny at this point. Nothing makes these men back off more effectively than her. Oh, the amount of times he bit back laughter watching the scene unfold from a distance. Seeing men crumble and disappear looking all ashamed, what a sight that is. And he doesn't have to do anything.

He wonders how many times she's had to fight off guys so far tonight, with him not even in the club, and he finds he can't wait to hear all her stories of the newest victims. Pierre never understood why Charles found it so amusing, he didn't seem to get it. The trust they have in each other. Knowing that it's him she'll come home to at the end of the night is enough to make him only feel entertained by each instance, and not irritated at the slightest bit.

But thinking about (y/n) fighting off men is only good enough entertainment for a limited amount of time, and soon the smile fades back into a miserable pout on his lips, as his thoughts turn back into ones of impatience, trying to make time move faster with short little prayers falling as mumbles from his lips.

With a sigh, he eventually sits up, looking around to find something he can do. At last he decides on grabbing a drink himself, maybe it will help stop the flow of thoughts racing in his head. A little welcomed dullness.

He takes a seat at the kitchen table, sipping on the liquid in his glass, enjoying the feeling of the light alcohol gently burning his throat on the way down, numbing his tongue along the way. His fingers stay restless, now drumming on the wooden surface. A few minutes later he realises they play a song, soundless except the soft thud of his fingertips with the occasional louder tap or little scratch of his nails when a finger finds a different angle to hit the table with.

A melody appears in his mind as he watches his fingers move, imagining how it would sound if it was his piano instead of the kitchen table. He would go sit at the beautiful, white instrument and try it, but he doesn't want to be so loud at such a late hour. And anyway, he's way too comfortable sitting where he is to stand up and go somewhere else.

He looks out the window, catching sight of the moon – almost full, just a tiny bit of it missing, and Charles examines the craters that are visible to the naked eye, though only as spots of a darker shade on the round shape.

Maybe he'll name this new musical piece that's being born in his head right now after her – well, if he ever finishes it. He'll keep the usual format, three letters of a city name and a date, only this time putting the time and place of when they first met. Or should it be the time and place of when he first asked her out? Or their first date? Or when she agreed to move in with him? God, there are way too many options to choose from. He decides to put this problem aside for now, he's not in a rush to name a song not even written yet.

As the clock on the oven changes all four numbers to display 2am, the action rouses his attention and makes him tear his eyes away from the moon and look at the numbers instead.

He would've never ever thought that he'd be like this.

Raising his glass he notices that there's only a small sip left in it, which he downs in a short moment. His tongue darts out to gather all the minuscule drops that might rest on his lips still, not wanting to waste even that much of the delicious drink. Then he stands up, placing the glass down into the sink, making a mental note to clean it in the morning before (y/n) wakes up.

Just as he ponders putting another movie on, maybe only as background noise if nothing else, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his pants. Taking his time, Charles pulls the device out, expecting nothing more than a useless notification from a social media app he shouldn't spend so much time on anyway.

Instead what he finds is a text. From her.

in a cab, be home soon <3

Charles lets out a relieved sigh, his lips involuntarily curving into a smile, one that you could almost call giddy. It's not just the thought that she's going to be here soon, but the fact that she remembered to text him to let him know. He's in her mind, just like she's in his, even though she's been out with friends, having fun, drinking, while he's only been at home, all alone with his misery.

Now he can move back to bed happily, knowing that shortly she will join him.

It truly doesn't take long until Charles hears the front door creak as it opens, then the familiar jingle of her keys hitting the drawer in the hall, and his heart flutters with happiness. Finally. The high heels she chose to wear hit the floor with a soft thud as she presumably removes them, and the growing anticipation in his body seems to eat him whole.

Her steps grow louder and louder as she moves closer to the bedroom, and time slows for Charles. He watches in slow motion as she appears in the doorframe, being propped up on his elbows to have a better view, a lazy smile curling onto his face, and his eyes lidded with drowsiness.

"You're still awake?" (y/n) giggles, pausing in her steps for a second as her eyes take in the view he provides lying there. His lack of reply to her text made her think he's already fallen asleep.

"Of course," he mumbles. "Come to bed."

His voice is whiny and he behaves like an actual child, he knows, but he can't help it. He wants to sleep, and he wants to sleep beside her, feeling her warmth against his skin. That's the only way he can.

"Let me get changed first," she starts towards the closet, when a grunt of pure displeasure sounds from him along with the thump of his back as he falls into a lying position once more, making her glance back at her boyfriend. "What, can't wait a single minute?"

"No," he protests, pouting . "I've been waiting for hours."

His accent comes forth stronger when he's sleepy, and she can't help but smile adoringly upon hearing it. He's just so cute.

"Okay, fine, you'll get one kiss," she gives in. Charles resembles a lost puppy and she's sure he knows that's her weakness. She can't ever say no to anything when he looks like that.

So that's how she finds herself crawling into bed, trying to get as close as possible to the boy without causing damage to her dress. He grins, as much as his tired facial muscles allow, awaiting her lips touching his own. His pout becomes even more apparent, right until the moment he finally gets what he wants. His goodnight kiss. It's soft, slow and just so full of love it makes both their hearts flutter.

Then she caresses his cheek gently, whispering a barely audible good night, sleep tight to him, before moving back off the bed to disappear in the closet, leaving Charles to think about how he'd happily convince her again of going out if it means she'll come home to him, looking so radiant, properly buzzing with energy, eyes shining, hair messy but still looking so breathtaking. It's obvious how much it meant to her that she had this night out. He made her happy with telling her to go out with her friends, and he didn't regret it, despite all the miserable hours.

By the time she finishes her night routine and walks back into the bedroom once more, he's fast asleep, quiet snores filling the silence of the room. She bites into her bottom lip to keep in the giggle threatening to burst out, and with a heart full of adoration and a head slightly dizzy from the drinks she's had, she gets in bed beside him, snuggling up close to him, revelling in the feeling of his arms instinctively finding their way around her body even when he's sleeping.

He truly only waited for her to come home and give him a goodnight kiss to finally be able to fall asleep.

916 notes · View notes

psychelis-new · 3 months

Text

pick a pile: "You are..." - Loving and encouraging words for you

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read some loving warm words about you. it's always nice to hear about our positive traits, right? here you can find yours and some encouraging words about your next steps/healing. keep going and take care of you! and also, be ready to let love in, you deserve it :)

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

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1 2 3

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pile 1

You are sunny, cheerful, bright and warm. You're also pretty welcoming and you like to hug people or generally enjoy physical displays of affection. I think people like to be around you, you basically cheer up everyone and "set the mood for the evening" (I just heard that, IDK). You have a lovely smile, everyone is in awe with it and you in general; maybe you also have a particular way to laugh? Like you maybe make a strange sound, and everyone is fond of it. They love to make you laugh honestly just to hear it. I feel like you take emotional care of others and you may feel like a sip of fresh water to many. You're extrovert (or at least seem so in specific context), confident and you know exactly what to do or say to make the day of the people you are in contact with. I think you may share smiles with people on the street and even help them if they need (eg. like if they drop something you may pick it up for them, especially for older people or you may leave your seat to them). I think you are very funny and smart, and like to joke a lot. Okay for some of you you may have changed after something happened and keep this sunny side of you a bit hidden (or maybe you occasionally fear being judged about it, or you have been), but honestly I think you only need to reconnect with it and let it flow from you. It's hurtful when some things happen but it's also something that... just happens in life, sadly (I'm not trying to invalidate your experience/pain, at all). We don't have to let those negative things change us so much, especially if we still feel that flame/desire inside. I mean... don't feel guilty for being happy, if that's what you feel. You can be happy no matter what happened. You have to be happy. Find new ways for that happiness to flow within but reach it "and let it rain" out of you. Enjoy it, let it be there and help you heal what hurt as well, if you need. You can find new happiness anytime. New reasons to be happy, too. This is also true for the few of you who tend to hide pain behind a smile, pretending it's all good. Toxic positivity won't solve it, as avoiding problems. Be more balanced (maybe you were called by pile 2 as well) and accepting of what is wrong: it doesn't mean you let it take over you (ask for help if it's too scary), it means you're not being blind to it but you're listening to it and trying to make it better (ofc you can wear a smile while you do that, you totally have to! Healing happens also with taking breaks to enjoy life and hobbies/passions...). You are such a beam of light for everyone, confront your problems (if there's any) and then keep on shining!

song: chicken noodle soup | j-hope; wake me up before you go go | wham! (I channeled the first song while doing your reading, anyway the mood for you is: jitterbug!)

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pile 2

You are strong, pure and very special. You stand out, and honestly you don't even have to do much to stand out. I think it's your energy: it also has something healing for those that comes near you, something comforting. You should be more confident in yourself: maybe you also doubt about your looks or how you may be seen/perceived by others but honestly you have/are nothing less than anyone else. You are caring and have a good heart; maybe you have buildt some walls around yourself out of past traumas, and this is blocking you a little when it comes to sharing with others or creating deeper relationships. It's okay take your time to work through those walls. You have beautiful eyes, and maybe you like to look at others in the eyes too? I think you are also sincere, honest and humble, at times also to a fault: please do stand up for yourself when you need, and set your boundaries. You may also be a bit too strict on you, especially when you make some type of mistakes or something? Maybe it's the fear I mentioned in the beginning of being perceived as you're not or in a bad way, or maybe... at times you may be scared of your thoughts somehow. It's not just the anxiety you may get from them and how they may make you spiral so you tend to stop them (it's okay to do this and distract your mind when you start feeling overwhelmed, but please come back to those thoughts when you feel calmer: to avoid thinking about a problem won't help you solve it at all, it will come back stronger. And please ask for help if you need), but there's also something else. Remind yourself usually the first thought is what we learned, our instinctive first reaction to a situation (usually comes up to "protect us") while the second thought we have is the one that comes from the heart, it really expresses what we think with a calmer and more balanced mind. I mean, eg. let's say someone says they got something you always wanted and this triggers you: your first reaction could also be being envious of them and feel not enough compared to them and potentially say or think something negative/feel resentful or angry, but if you stopped and thought about it again, you may just be really happy for this person and see yourself as on a different path: your time will come too. Be more kind with yourself, more patient: you're unlearning a negative mental pattern and that's not easy, it will take time and practice and lot of patience. You are so lovely you have no idea, please try to see and show that yourself too.

song: a little bit yours | jp saxe (indeed come back to your core self and show yourself love, and accept it too; closing chapters, changing and unlearning stuff is hard, but you can make it)

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pile 3

You are multilayered. You have lovely rosey cheeks, people may want to squeeze them lol. You are sweet and cute, you probably are also a little shy or maybe you feel anxious in social settings and you may end up blushing a lot. You may also be stubborn occasionally (not too bad tbh) and can be determined or at least you reach good results in job/school. I think you tend to hide a part of yourself though or find it hard to deal with it/not like it. There's something you fear showing or that you don't want others to see about you, probably your pain, probably something from your past that you keep inside (also cause you can't accept/understand it -it could be abuse for someone, I hope you are safe now). Maybe you're also "scared"... of being loved/seen for real (having your "mask removed"?) or feeling vulnerable... Your energy feels younger or maybe just unexperienced in some fields or situations (maybe you also feel uncomfortable in some situations or you felt so in the past and you avoided joining them so now you feel a little behind maybe: honestly, there's nothing bad in this. You're not behind, you just did what was better for you and you still have time to make more experiences. You have all the time you need and want). I think there's indeed something about time here, it could be you are nostalgic about something that now you are missing/lacking, maybe feelings you could experience in your childhood, or you want to delete something from your past, or it could be that you fear running out of time, as mentioned, as you want to experience many things still but maybe you are scared you won't make it or you don't know where to start from. Just take a break: the moment you'll feel more grounded, it will come to you. Focus on taking care of you and also do take naps if you need and can. If it's about your childhood, eg. if people taught you have to "grow up" or have dimmed you in any way (or you had to, in order to gain their approval), remember you don't really have to forget about your inner child nor to be someone you're not. You can be an adult and still be in touch with your inner child. It's not that one thing excludes the other. And you can be yourself without any fear (it's hard to believe it but you won't be pushed away by everyone if you aren't as they wish). Maybe your inner child now really needs you to be closer to them, they need your appreciation and support, probably also after something you had to go through in your past: your inner child totally did great back then with all they had. Hug them and show them love. I think some of you may also love to work or be around children or pets as they may help you feel more in touch with your own inner child and more grounded. Again, be attentive to your needs, and meet them: maybe you were *unwillingly* taught you don't deserve that much (you had to accept crumbles in relationships) but it's not so, you deserve the moon: remember this. You're already perfect, there's nothing about you in your past or present that you need to fix, my love. Heal your fears about being yourself, receiving (love in particular) and don't run away from it, don't run away from yourself: you'll get all you wish for. Give it and yourself time. And, if you need this: it wasn't your fault, you were not responsible for that event/decision for which you feel like you were (and maybe you didn't even had to take). Whatever it was. You were trying to win the approval of someone who couldn't love you as you wished. Build boundaries around people (adults) and remember you are not responsible for them and what they do/their mistakes: you're not here to save them from anything. You have your own self and life to care about now.

song: heart attack | demi lovato

#pac #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a photo #pick a picture #pick a card #divination #clairs readings #intuitive readings #psychich readings #tarot readings #tarots #tarotblr #tarotcommunity

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supernovafics · 4 months

Note

requesting for the ill be there for you universe! the kids are coming over so steve and r plan a lil dinner party… well they make the dinner together… and its just a little too domestic…. bonus if they end up dancing to some silly song on the radio because arent we all a sucker for dancing in the kitchen 😭😭😭😭😭 the kids walk in on them and are like 🤨🤨 those two need to get together now so baddddddddddd

𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k words

warnings: explicit language

summary: in which a new year’s dinner at the apartment sparks a bet— that you and steve are completely unaware of— among the friend group

author's note: thank u for the request !! happy new year<33

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1986

Steve heard the knock on the door first; you were way too engrossed in singing along to the song that was loudly playing to notice the sound.

He maneuvered around you in the kitchen to go answer the door as you took a quick peek in the oven to check on the lasagnas.

It was your idea to have this “New Year’s dinner” at the apartment— since you and Steve had been sick during the holidays and couldn’t see anyone, this was to make up for that— and Steve agreed. Of course, Robin and Eddie said that they would come, and then the kids were an immediate yes as well.

Even though your and Steve’s collective cooking skills were not the best, you both still wanted to attempt and cook something for everyone, instead of simply ordering a couple of pizzas or takeout from some place. So, you got a lasagna recipe from Miss Johnson that she promised was very basic and couldn’t really be messed up; and so far, she’d been right. Although you did initially have to remake the sauce because of a mess up that you fully blamed on Steve and he fully blamed on you. But, after that, everything else luckily went fine.

When Steve opened the door and you looked over to see everyone bounding into the apartment, it was then that you remembered just how big the friend group was— you could only imagine what that elevator ride up to the apartment had been like.

“Is this The Breakfast Club soundtrack?” Robin asked, laughing as she slipped off her coat.

“Yes,” Steve answered. “This is what I’ve been subjected to for the past week.”

You immediately rolled your eyes at his words, which you somehow managed to hear over the loud music. “Oh, shut up, you were just singing along to the last song with me.”

“There’s only some truth to that,” He said as he walked over to the record player to turn the music down a bit.

Everyone settled at the dining table that Steve’s mom bought for you two for the Thanksgiving dinner that you’d been forced to have here with your parents— that was still somehow a memory that lingered harshly in the back of your mind, like most interactions with your parents did. The table was only meant to fit six people, so the desk chairs that normally sat in your bedrooms were pulled out and placed at the table, and then two foldable chairs were borrowed from your other next door neighbor; this guy in his mid-sixties who would have weekly poker nights with his friends. You would continuously joke around with Steve and tell him that he should join in on the poker nights. In response, he’d always simply roll his eyes at you because you knew that he was bad at poker and he’d also rather not spend his Tuesday nights with random old men.

Mike walked over to you and handed you a tupperware full of what you could tell were gingerbread cookies. “Since you missed the Christmas party, my mom wanted me to give these to you.”

You immediately smiled. “Holy shit, God bless that woman. Please tell her I said thank you.”

He nodded at that and then went over to the table, sitting down next to El.

Steve went back over to where you were in the kitchen and started reaching for the tupperware, but you immediately shooed his hand away. When he simply pouted at you, you rolled your eyes and then opened it so that he could grab a cookie, which he did and then broke it in half so that he could give a piece of it to you.

“Is it just me or have they been acting extra old married couple lately?” Dustin asked, looking away from the interaction that just happened.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Max answered almost immediately and pretty much everyone else simply nodded in agreement.

Neither you nor Steve were paying any attention to the conversation that was currently taking place barely ten feet away from you; instead you both were focused on finishing up the food. You were pulling one of the lasagnas out of the oven and Steve was grabbing the other before putting the store bought garlic bread in the oven— you both had figured that if the lasagna did end up turning out bad, there would at least be bread that neither of you had a hand in making to somewhat save the day.

“I fully believe that this will be the year that they finally get together,” Lucas said, sounding very certain.

Robin shook her head at that. “No way. If they were gonna date, it would’ve happened already. Years ago, probably.”

She thought back to this past Halloween where you and Steve were dressed up in your Batman and Robin costume, and at some point during the night he ended up giving you a piggyback ride while you all were walking to some party, and she and Vickie were trailing a bit behind the two of you. She thought about how certain she had felt when answering Vickie’s question about if you two had ever dated. “They seem like they’d be perfect together, but I also think the world would implode if they ever tried something.” For the most part, that still felt entirely true. Even though it would’ve made complete sense if something happened, it still didn’t seem necessarily “possible” at this point— it felt like such a far-fetched idea.

“I’m gonna have to agree with Rob on this one. I don’t think they’ll ever actually get together,” Eddie said and then started laughing a bit as he said his next words. “Or it’ll happen twenty years down the road after they’ve both been married to other people and then divorced, and then they’ll finally realize that all they needed and wanted was each other.”

“Wow, that sounds like the most depressing movie ever,” Will told him.

“I guess it wouldn’t be that sad since they would end up together in the end,” El said with a small shrug.

Eddie nodded. “Exactly.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe that could happen, but I don’t think it would take that long anymore because things are so different now,” Dustin said. “They’re living together, they have a child together.” He gestured to Harold the Hamster’s cage that sat on the coffee table in the living room. “They’re practically already a couple. It’s inevitable now. Soon they’ll be married and there will be actual children involved, not just Harold.”

Robin rolled her eyes at his final statement. “They’re best friends. They’ve known each for like ten years.”

“Yeah, which is just another reason why they’re definitely gonna end up together,” Lucas said. “Also, I can’t even remember the last time either of them went on a date, and Steve usually always talks about his dates.”

“Actually, he was just going out with that girl last month,” Will chimed in. “Vanessa or something?”

“And that ultimately led nowhere,” Max reminded him.

Mike took a brief look over at you and Steve to make sure that you two still weren’t listening to the current conversation. “Okay, I have an idea. We should make this a bet. We each say when we think they’ll get together, and if it does end up happening we all give whoever got it right or was the closest five bucks.”

Eddie laughed before nodding. “I actually kind of like that idea.”

“It’s a great idea,” Dustin said with a nod, and it didn’t necessarily surprise anyone when he pulled out a small notebook and pen out of his pocket because it somehow made sense that he would be the one to bring a notebook and pen to a dinner party; he was probably prepared for anything.

He started off by saying February– because even though it was only a month away, it was in fact, the month of love— and then everyone started going around the table saying their guesses. Lucas said April, Max and El both said March, Mike said July, Will said August, Robin said a very certain “Never,” and Eddie finished by saying a playful and only slightly serious, “Twenty years.”

It was almost comical how oblivious you and Steve were to what was happening not that far away from you both. Instead, your attention was on grabbing enough silverware for everyone since the plates were already set on the table and Steve was pulling out some cups.

“I think both of our moms would scold us for not setting everything out before they came,” You told Steve, laughing a bit.

“Very true. I guess our years of being forced to eat at fancy restaurants with them have truly taught us nothing,” He joked back and you smiled at that as you both walked over to the dining table. “We’re gonna bring over the lasagna in a second. What are you guys talking about?”

“Nothing,” Eddie said casually as Dustin slipped his notebook back into his pocket, which was a subtle action that neither of you noticed. “Just some movie.”

Once everything was set on the table, you two went back to the kitchen to grab the lasagnas.

“The bread will be done in a couple minutes, so if the lasagna sucks we’ll eat that,” You said as you sat down in one of the two empty chairs left, which just so happened to be your desk chair. “Also, if it sucks, blame Steve, not me.”

He shook his head as he rolled his eyes at you and playfully poked your side before taking a seat in the other empty chair on the opposite side of the table. “If it sucks, blame both of us because this was a very mutual effort.”

Robin nodded. “Okay, got it. If this turns out to be the worst meal all of us have ever eaten we’ll make sure to hate both of you equally and not talk to either of you for at least a week.”

Luckily, the lasagna actually turned out pretty great.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington series #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things series #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut

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starrdevereauxx · 30 days

Text

I said last time would be the last time.

Brandon broke up with me 6 months ago. I’ve been a wreck for weeks on end. I promised myself to get over it, but it’s been such a hard thing to process. We would always fight, make up, make love and act like nothing ever happened. He was gone this time. This was the longest we ever been apart.

I try to find things to do to pass the time, but nothing ever seems to take my mind off him. I still smell him, breathe him, and feel him through my body. Our mutual friends always give messages about him, but I’ve been ignoring them lately. My heart can’t take listening to his name, let alone hearing of any accomplishments.

I need to run my errands today, but like everyday I become sad running them alone. We did everything together, after 6 years I can’t believe that we don’t do this anymore.

Heading to the grocery store I become sad with my list of groceries for one instead of two. I hop in my car and turn on “our” playlist. Hoping I can borrow a feeling from any song that plays. Another slow song begins to play and I’m seeing myself in the mirror. Envisioning him touching me, wishing my hands were his. Rubbing the side of my face, choking me ever so lightly. I literally just felt my pussy drip at this light.

“Get it together Dev” I say trying to convince myself that I’m over him. Knowing damn well I’m not. I can feel him inside my pussy when I think about him. The feeling intensifies with every breath I take.

I gather myself to go inside of the store, with my lonely list of single items. Looking at the list I just remember every single meal I ever made for him. Pouring my heart into each meal, now I can only make food for myself. I sob gathering myself for this lonely trip.

I walk through the store, gathering each item reluctantly. Wishing we were laughing together, talking about what we gonna pretend to watch on Netflix when we got back home. Saying pretend because it we wouldn’t make it pass the opening credits without his chocolate snicker veined dick engorged in my throat. He would be gagging me before we knew the name of the movie.

After looking at my cart, I figured I deserved a treat. I tried to maintain a healthy cart since I’m single, I need to stay in shape. The most physical activity I get is the gym these days, so I had to maintain some resemblance of care in my food intake. But with all the crying that I’ve been doing, today I deserve a treat. I decided to head back to the ice cream isle and help myself to something to lift my spirits.

As I walk to the back of the store with my headphones on, I’m letting Chris Brown sing me to a happy place. I almost begin to get a spring in my step as he’s talking about fucking someone back to sleep.

I make it to the ice cream section and I immediately look for Ben & Jerry’s tasty ass. I see it, straight ahead “Chunky Monkey”. I move my cart out of the way to reach for it. As I get ready to reach for the pint, I feel some thing grab me, startled I think I’m in trouble for climbing inside the refrigerator. Moving my headphones so I can hear, a deep, smoldering voice says

“that’s still your favorite ice cream I see, even though I also remember that your monkey was the only chunky I ever wanted”.

I’m fucking stuck. There’s only one voice I know that sounds like that, and my pussy dripping is letting me know exactly who it is.

“Brandon, oh wow. It’s crazy seeing you here. How are you?” I gulp nervously.

“You look good Dev, time has been good to you. But then again when has it not?” Brandon says as he looks at me like he’s about to take my throat from me right here in this store.

As I prepare to answer him, someone loudly over talks me.

“Babe, BABE.. do you want movie popcorn or kettle corn?” I turn to see a bubbly perky breasted young lady yelling to her significant other about popcorn. I turned back around to see if I see him, just for my heart to sink as I realize that there’s nobody here but me and Brandon here. She’s talking to him. Oh my God, he has a girlfriend.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, I was just trying to get a hold of my fiancé, I didn’t mean to bump you, my apologies” she smiles.

“Kettle Corn baby, thank you” he replies.

She skips off to honor his request. I stand there putting my broken heart back in my chest, not making it obvious that I’m literally breaking apart inside. FIANCÉ!?!? What in the fuck is this? After 6 years together, he never asked me to marry him. I’m even more convinced that it was never going to be me.

“Well congratulations to you and your fiancé, you deserve happiness. Be well Brandon.” I say tearfully as I run off, forgetting my ice cream. At this point I just want to disappear.

I get to the register, pay for my items and hurry to my car.

It was a long walk to my car. I always parked far from stores because I loved to get my steps in. Every step counts to me. So I had enough time to cry myself to the car and be over it by the time I started my car.

I open my trunk and back seat to place my purse down as I organize my groceries in the back, just incase if I needed room for a surprise bullseye store trip. I think after that encounter, I deserve some retail therapy now.

As I near the finish of my organization, I feel someone tap me from behind and say “I thought we discussed you parking way the hell back here. Nobody can see you back here.” Brandon says with what looks like chunky monkey ice cream in his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing back here? Where’s your fiancé? Why are you here? I-“ he stops me mid sentence, placing the ice cream in my hand.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you about Keisha. You didn’t deserve to find out like this” he says looking at me sincerely.

“You don’t owe me anything, we are over. It’s your life. We have both clearly moved on.” I say proudly, pretending that I don’t feel like bending over right now and letting him turn me into a Twinkie.

He stares at me in my eyes with a look I haven’t seen in so long, but I remember well. I break contact and go back to packing my car so I can leave this awkward encounter.

He grabs my arm forcefully, making me drop my car keys in the backseat. Turning me towards him, forcing me to look at him. I begin to tear away in anger because I’m loosing control to my body.

“Get the fuck off me Brandon, what in the hell is your problem. Let me the fuck go.”

I try to break free from his grip. I feel his dick literally growing with anticipation the more I fight.

He stops me and looks me in my eyes. He’s subdued me with his piercing glare. He presses up against me, placing his hands on my body. One softly but firmly on my neck and the other on my left breast, lightly massaging it and grazing the nipple ever so softly. My breathing becomes shallow and scattered. What is he doing? Why is he doing this? Isn’t his fiancé near by or in the car wondering where he is. I’m sure she’s looking for him. In this moment, I don’t think either one of us cares. My pussy is wet and gushing between my panties that I know is drenched at this point.

“I know you feel what I feel for you. I haven’t had a day go by that I haven’t thought about you Dev. We broke up, but never really let go. If you tell me to let you go right now, I’ll stop and walk away forever. You want me to stop?” He says while looking me in my dough eyes. I have no voice to even reply. My red lips are pursed and parted from the small breaths I continue to take. I shake my head no while staring him completely in his eyes.

He leans onto me, kissing me softly, hand still wrapped around my neck. He kisses my lips softly and becomes more aggressive every time he touches his lips to mine. He parts my lips to slide his tongue inside my mouth, I close my mouth to proceed to suck his tongue. Feeling now that his dick is rock hard.

“Show me that you still love me” he says as I’m already unbuckling his jeans. I drop to my knees and open my mouth. Giving him my entire throat to use as he pleases. Forcing my head on and off his dick, using my mouth as his personal pocket pussy. Grabbing both sides of my face, moaning loudly in this parking structure like we are outside alone. He literally has no fear of being caught in this moment. Brandon’s dick is so deep down my throat that he’s breathing for the both of us.

I feel his precum slip pass my lips. He stops. He pulls me off my knees and stands me up, just to pull down my leggings, revealing my cummed in panties. He begins to take his dick to rub my clit while I stand there defenseless.

Brandon forcefully turns me around, placing me in position. I automatically arch the posture of my back, taking my hands to spread my giant ass to show my wet dripping pussy that’s salivating for his erection to be inside me.

“Such a good girl, still obedient like I remember. Tell me what you want” he orders me.

“Fuck me hard please. Take my pussy from me” I say patiently waiting for him to beat my pussy like an Undertaker versus Mankind cage match.

He forces his dick inside my tight wet pussy, moaning hard as he enters. I grip him hard with my pussy as he’s thrusting aggressively in and out of me.

He’s pulsating inside of me as he’s moving. I’m feeling every inch of him as he’s continuing to grow inside of me. Just moving back and forth, harder and harder. I’m moaning so loud and hard, tears in my eyes from how good it feels to have his dick inside me. Holding my breasts as he’s making me take his dick roughly outside where everyone can see.

“Oh my God Dev, you’re gonna make me cum. I’m about to cum. Do you want it in your favorite place?” He says as I scream out “Yes” in reply.

I fall to my knees like a sinner who needs prayer, open my mouth to the heavens and wait for him to bless me. He releases an outpouring of his creaminess all over my face and mouth, as I devour every drop that hits my throat.

He moans as he shakes out every drop til he’s empty. I swallow the rest of him and what’s left of my pride as he kisses me in completion. My pants still around my ankles, he grips my ass holding me in place as he continues to kiss me softly.

I buckle his pants as he helps me with mine. I brush my hand across his face and we embrace each other knowing that he has to go.

“Goodbye Brandon.” I kiss him on the cheek. He walks away silently. Staring back a few times before he’s out of my view.

I said last time would be the last time.

Happy Monday 💋

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undercoverpena · 9 months

Text

x. oh, just to be with you

javier peña x f!reader | chapter ten of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: we're back to texts and phone calls. sorrowful!javi, two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love. pls don't be mad at me ✨ wordcount: 3k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

He's aware of everything.

How the porch creaks when he steps on it, the way the back door doesn’t quite meet the frame unless it’s locked. How the wind is knocking something else, far across the tall grass and fence posts.

Right now, his focus is on how his curtains don’t quite close. That they're letting the thinnest crack of moonlight cascade through his room. How the smallest luminescent slither keeps dancing in the breeze, yet it still lands perfectly on the propped-up photo strip on his dresser, highlighting the two of you, as though he hadn't committed them to memory.

He can’t remember the last time someone had managed to slide around his walls—bypass his common sense and begin weaving themselves into him. Javi also can't remember the last time he wanted something more than a win.

Then came you.

Not that he complains that you're the exception. He'll never complain when it comes to you.

Having people close has never been his issue. It’s letting himself fall that he’s forever found hard. He can be a lover who makes a night all about the other; he can be a protector, shielding and doing what is needed.

It’s the parts after when he feels he clams up. A portion of him constantly weighing up risks, calculating the damage he could cause—either by a choice he could make or others—long before the city that housed Escobar.

Javi knew his reluctance had stemmed from before he left Laredo, but it was now carved somewhere deeper in him. Something you managed to find with relative ease and cut out of him as if it was nothing.

All smiles. All radiance and fucking beauty, with a laugh that could make his lips curl even if his bones are aching and his muscles are tired.

If he closes his eyes, he can almost convince himself that he’s back there, in the hotel room. Because even if you’d never been here, your room is full of him.

His bag of spilt-out clothes from your time together, slowly letting the scent of your perfume seep out across the room. Your jacket, hung on the closet handle, and the photos and sign you made on his dresser, all perfectly in sight.

you have nice handwriting I did try my best, sometimes I get lazy and letters blur together more. I like how you wrote baby Does this mean I’ve got the whole set now? Cause you like how I say it, how I write it, how I mouth it.

Even when he had known you’d needed to get some sleep, Javi had desperately wanted to beg you to stay up. Sending back a text here or there, already missing you so much more than he was sure he could handle.

He felt lovesick. Like the singer in all those songs that make people either stare at a loved one or bite back tears because they lost theirs. Suddenly relating to a sea of them he’s heard on the radio in the kitchen or hummed in the back of his pop’s throat.

Javi had been happy to see his pops, somewhat surprised he even came out of the house to greet him. But, as soon as his eyes landed on him, he became suddenly more aware of his old man’s age. Noticing the lines on his face, the ones that tell a thousand stories—not all of them he’s sure he’s heard. Curling into the hug he’d barely reciprocated before, unsure how to form the words to thank him for convincing him to go.

Naturally, he asks about you.

It’s more of an interrogation if he’s honest. He shows the photos, the ones now on his dresser, watching his pop smile as he continues to answer the array of questions, until he yawns for the tenth time in the space of five minutes.

“You should get some sleep, Pop.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Javi. Tell me more about your lady.”

Your lady.

Those two words stand out as if they’ve been illuminated in bulbs, twinkling and shimmering.

now youre back in reality you sure about us Never been more sure about anything, baby. just wanted to check You’re beginning to sound like me, worrying. left a mark on me Think that’s fair, you’ve left a lot on me too. Especially my chest.

“Tomorrow. Promise. The drive took it out of me.”

But Javi isn’t tired.

Somehow, he had suspected he wouldn’t be the moment he watched you leave.

For longer than he cares to number, he's struggled with it. Had developed an unhealthy live-able balance of it when he was working, something he managed to keep as a prize in his return.

Now, it’s different.

There’s an edge to it. As though he's now having to pay back the stolen sleep he enjoyed when he had been lay with you. When he slept with ease and not struggle. Leaving him feeling now like he’s in a lull, a dream. All aware, not in a daze anymore, noticing things he had never given much attention to before his trip out of town.

You had been so warm, so soft. His fingers gliding up and down your side, soothing you as much as it was him. But, you slept with ease. Falling almost instantly once you'd stopped talking, a little jolt and a soft sigh punctuating it.

Fuck, he misses you.

Thumb and index pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes clenched shut. Unsure how he's supposed to manage, and cope, until the next chance he gets to see you.

Till he gets to hold you in his arms, stare at your smile as it grows across your face or feels the light tap of your hand when he’s teasing you...

Something ugly curls inside of him. At first, soaked in sadness, before it shakes itself and burns bright with annoyance. Irritation. Anger at how unfair it all is.

How is it, after all, he’s given up—he’s fallen for the one person not even in his state? A person he had to say goodbye to hours ago, for reasons out of his or their control.

He almost snorts, unsure if it’s due to the tiredness or the reality that after all he’s faced, life would continue to be cruel and deal him such a hand. Tempted to get up, kick off the sheets and pull out the crossword from before he left town.

Javi doesn't. Instead, he closes his eyes, shaking his head—to no one but himself. Because he can't do them without you now. A promise, one given with ease.

He hears the whisper of the wind, the rustle of the trees. Something needling at him that if he wasn't so broken, this would be the perfect amount of quiet to fall asleep to.

Now, it's not the loud of a Colombian city he misses now. It's how your leg slides over his, how your breaths feel on his chest—how you twitch, ever so slightly, as you first fall asleep.

But, it’s the quiet as to why he hears his phone vibrate, practically darting out of bed, knowing it can only be you.

why aren’t you asleep?

Because I can't sleep without you. Apparently.

I miss you too.

I really hate this. I even miss you digging your knee into my hip.

told you that you’d miss it once it was gone

I feel like telling you that you’re right will mean your head will inflate.

youre right

One day, right?

if I could make that tomorrow I would

You really missing me that much?

not enough words in the world to describe how much, baby

Gonna make me cry.

dont cry I can’t wipe them from here

So not wise for me to tell you I cried the entire flight home.

did the person you sit next to seem to mind

They didn’t say anything until we landed. Then promptly told me that I deserved better.

so they thought you were broken up with

I think I may have led her to believe that from the amount I was crying.

fuck you like me a lot

I like you a regular, normal amount.

I don’t think I like you a normal regular amount

That’s the tiredness talking.

you know it isnt

I feel the same. I really miss you.

I miss you too but you should try to sleep you have work tomorrow

Okay, but so do you!

ill be fixing a shed or a pen baby you have to deal with people

go to sleep and then tomorrow we can call as planned

You’d told him that you suspected the first day would be the hardest.

Not the goodbye (and that had been fucking painful) but the following day when they were apart.

Javi hates that you’re right.

It twists inside of him how much he loathes it—grateful that he gets to push some of his anger into repairing the side of the shed. Hammer meeting nail, again and again. Each time with more fury than is needed, only worrying after whether he’s done more damage to the shed post than pre.

"Mijo."

He doesn't find a judgemental look, but one filled with sympathy.

His pop not quizzing him, just handing him a beer. A cold one, droplets descending down the can, sliding across his palm and down his wrist—attempting to soothe the boiling blood in his veins.

“It’ll get easier.” His pop tugs his hat down, shielding his eyes, before staring off into the distance. “When me and your mama first began, we couldn’t see each other all the time either.”

Letting out a sigh, Javi grinds his teeth. A sea of biting comments lathered on his tongue, all set to pounce, to poison.

Instead, he kicks the ground, swallowing most of them back. “She wasn’t hundreds of miles away, though.”

“No,” his Pop says, clapping his hand on his back—both for comfort and likely stability. “But we didn’t have landlines, or tha' other thing you do on y’phone. The tapping."

The tapping.

He doesn't snort, even if it sits at the back of his throat. Burying it in the liquid that slides down his throat with ease.

"Come on, ‘need to head into town, and my truck is acting up.”

Javi doesn’t question it, why he’s the one sliding into the passenger seat of his own truck.

If he’d thought about it, he’d have asked why the truck was acting up or why Pop was driving instead of him. But he doesn’t—didn’t. Just let it happen, staring off as the shades of grass pass him by, fingers playing with the cap on the can, twisting and twisting it.

To fill the silence, he rolls the edges of the can around in his hands. Crunching the sides every now and again, making him wince from the noise.

Then, he finds himself staring at the fingerprints left in the dust from you touching his dash—eyes catching sight of a hair grip on the floor near his boot.

He’s rolling it in his fingers when they’re back on the road, silence smothering them until he watches his pop turn on the radio. As soon as it springs to life, it becomes desperate to try and cut through it. The broadcaster mumbles about heavy rain and increased traffic, but he’s lost in a sorrow of sadness all cast by the spell of a good week to care. The fog around him making it hard to see the wood through the trees, never mind the hope through the misery.

“Dios mio. More trucks passing through now since the bridge opened. Y’noticed, mijo? So many.”

“Hmm.”

Eyes fixed on the grip, the one more worn on one side than the other—imagining your face, the night when he’d watched you take them out, face fresh, one of his tees on your frame.

Then, because the world isn’t cruel enough, the song changes. The radio playing a game with him now, as well as everything else, as he lifts his head, trying to focus on the road. Hearing the soft thud of his pop’s fingers on the steering wheel, his jaw tightened as the lyrics washed over him. Faintly hearing you humming along with the chorus.

Because he heard the song in the diner with you.

Heard it on the radio one afternoon, then again in the bowling alley—how it wrapped its tune around the two of you.

“Heard our song today,” he says, fingers massaging his temple.

He's thankful his pop said he had plans, the quietness settling over the rest of the ranch.

Before he met you, he dreaded the nights he was left alone. His thoughts gearing up, ready to pounce. The minor differences he could have made if he took a step back and stared at the facts, how he should have noticed how deep the corruption was—how much Colombia was taking from him, bit by bit.

Now, he tries not to grin when his pop says he’s going out.

When he’s left alone, allowed full reign to talk as loud as he wants to you—rather than being huddled near the phone, whispering like a teenager.

“Our song?”

“Yeah.”

Javi can practically hear you smirk. “And how does that go, charmer?”

He’s not a singer. Not by a long shot, but he does his best. Humming the tune at first, softly singing the words from the chorus until he trails off.

You snort, before you try to muffle it in a cough.

“You tricked me.”

“Maybe. But, just because I wanted to hear you sing.”

Smirking, he pulls the phone from his ear—shaking his head—before replacing it back to hear you add:

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“Fuck you, baby.”

Your laugh rips from you, hurtling down the phone right to his soul—making fireworks explode in his chest and warmth kiss his nerves.

Because now he can imagine what you look like. Likely head thrown back, eyes closed—nose scrunched a little as your hands grip onto something for leverage.

And it was beautiful. You’re beautiful—your laugh and your smile. Something he feels he should have said long before now. He’s about to rectify that, when he hears it merge into a sniffle—veering into tears and half-suppressed swallows before a noticeable little sob breaks through—as his throat dries instantly, closing.

Turning, he places his palm on the fall as he tries to keep his chest from tightening. The knot in his chest, the one he suspects is tied to you in some way, constricts, pulling taught around his lungs.

“I—I miss….”

You sniffle again, louder. “I've been looking forward to this all day,” you whisper, voice catching, words struggling to fall as sweetly as they usually do. “But, is it bad for me to say that phone calls aren’t the same now I’ve had the chance to be with you in person?”

Leaning his forehead against the kitchen wall, Javi wipes his chin. “Took the words outta my mouth, baby.”

He hears you chuckle, almost both heavily and heavenly, before you ask about his day.

He rambles because it’s easy too. You listen, lapping up every single thing. Hearing about his trip to town, his pop making jokes—trying, desperately, to crack through the mist that had descended.

“How was yours?”

Then you sigh, all tight. You tell him about Aish and her interview, before your voice softens as you begin whispering about the prep you’re doing for your interview. He’s about to comfort you, when you continue about the asshole you work alongside has been taken out for lunch by your boss and that you snagged your favourite pair of tights on a desk.

“But, enough about that—guess what I’m wearing?”

Smiling, he bites down on his knuckle, Javi lifting his head, groaning as he tries to think. “All of your clothes at once? Anything else might short-circuit my brain.”

“Won’t tell you then.”

“No. Please. Tell me, baby.”

He hears you move, and is almost sure he can hear you swallow. “You realise that you’re missing something, Javier?”

Fuck, the way you say his name. How it drips from your tongue. Laced in lust and swirling down the phone line to his brain.

He quickly tries to think of his washing, the piles he made—the attempted sorting. And it hits him. His eyes widened, head half-lifting, feeling his eye twitch.

“Fuck—“

“Yes. I’m sat in that. And underwear, of course.”

“Hermosa…”

His throat is dry, painfully so. Mind arranging an image of you from the days he spent with you. And fuck.

“Wasn’t sure this shade of pink was my colour, but I was wrong.”

Jutting his jaw, he closes his eyes—picturing the sight of you. The underwear he’d had the chance to peel off of you, the way it set against your skin—now, accompanied by his shirt on your arms. The buttons are likely undone, showing off more skin than he can currently process thinking about.

“It’s nice on my skin,” you whisper, all honeyed. “Be better on my floor.”

Clenching his fist, he bites his lip. “Baby…”

“Maybe I’ll show you one day.”

Snorting, he traces his teeth with his tongue. “You better. Now, tell me about the underwear.”

“Only if you can answer six across. Clue: now.”

Mouth parting, his jaw rolls to the side, eyes picking a spot on the wall. Thinking. And thinking.

“Want an extra clue?”

“An extra? You're spoiling me.”

He hears you giggle, low and in your throat. “It’s an Italian word. And, ‘I want to see you… blank—“

His eyes flick up, a smile spreading. “Pronto.”

“Correct,” you reply. “Seven words, silenced. You did this to me when you had your mouth on my—“

“Shushed,” he says quickly, fist clenching, trying to stare at the mark on the wall again, and not let the image of you populate in his head.

“You okay, baby?”

Gritting his teeth, he sighs. “You’re devious, you know that?”

“I think it’s your shirt. It’s making me… flirty.”

Grinning, he turns on the spot, back against the wall—head tilting up, eyes closing. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too….” your tone softer, frayed at the edges. “I’m kinda glad I stole your shirt.”

“Me too. Means I get to see you to steal it back from you.”

“Off me.”

It comes out quickly—purposefully chosen, spilt.

Frowning, he opens his eyes. “What?”

“Off me. You’ll have to steal it from my body.”

Grasping the phone, breathing through his nose, letting out a murmured, “Fuck, baby,” under his breath.

AN: for all those wondering if they'll be together in person again, they will. i am a happily-ever-after kind of writer unless otherwise stated. but it was so important to me that they had a magical week, and then returned to their lives.

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