#i have a lot of feelings about country music

[wosospacegirl]

New kid thing - Arsenal teen! r

Summary: Y/n gets her period during her first day of training at Arsenal, and the girls make sure she is comfortable.

Warnings: Y/n has a small platonic crush on Leah, but nothing weird since she is just 17

Word count: 2k

Masterlist here

..

Training with a new team for the first time was embarrassing enough, especially if you were a 17-year-old girl making your debut with a senior team where half the players had played in the Olympics, the World Cup, or both.

Y/n felt out of her depth—nervous and, frankly, like a child trying to fill shoes that were too big for her. She knew she had to be at least a little talented to have signed a two-year contract with the Gunners, but her nerves wouldn't let her relax. 

The team immediately noticed her nervousness and were quite good at making Y/n feel welcome. After a few pleasantries from McCabe and Kyra, Y/n even smiled a little and told the girls about her history with football, and how she got into the sport. She had a nice chat with the two Arsenal girls and felt a real connection with them, probably because they were also foreigners in the country.

“It's going to be a little weird at first,” McCabe said. “A lot of new faces, a new culture, a new way of training and playing, but don’t worry, you'll fit right in.” The Irish sat down besides Y/n and patted her on the back.

“Yeah, and if you need someone to talk to, or want to wind out and maybe go for a walk to get to know London you can call me,” Kyre smiled. “Besides, all these old women have no idea about the cool places in London, I know a few places and would be happy to take you.

“Wow, are you calling us old and lame?” McCabe argued

The two girls began to argue as Y/n laughed and giggled.

The rest of the day went smoothly, much to Y/n's surprise. She met many of the staff and was pleased to learn that Arsenal had a team of psychologists, gynecologists and even psychiatrists. Professional players know how hard it is to find a medical specialty that also understands the toll that sport can take on the body, and how some treatments work for non-footballers but don't for footballers, especially because of inadvertent doping caused by convenient medicine and all that.

The team was doing some cool-down stretches while listening to country music - it was Leah's day to choose the music played during training - and Y/n was humming along to some of the songs she knew. Suddenly the 17-year-old felt a familiar pain in her stomach. 

Fuck no, not now, Y/ n thought to herself. She couldn't be having her period right now. It was her first day on a professional team, she was wearing white shorts and everyone was there, chatting away in a semicircle, even captain Leah Williamson, who Y/n had been fangirling since she was 13-years-old.

Y/n was well aware that periods were normal, and that they happened to every single woman on the team, but she was still embarrassed about it. Would they think she was immature? Not having the fucking capacity to pack at least one pad or tampon in her training bag?

Ok, maybe she was being too hard on herself.

Y/n just needed the older girls to finish their cooldown first, so she could be the last to leave the gym.

Five minutes passed. Then 10, and then 15… All the girls were still stretching their legs and thighs. Y/n looked around, trying to come up with another escape plan as the Arsenal women seemed to be enjoying their stretching time a little too much.

“You ok, Y/n?” Leah asked, catching Y/n off guard. It wasn’t that the captain was unwelcoming or anything, but Leah hadn’t really talked to her besides the classic greetings. Y/n remembered watching an interview where Leah said she was a bit more reserved with new people, and that she needed time to warm up, so she wasn’t very bummed about that.

“Oh, yeah, very much ok… yeah!” Y/n lied, and it was a very bad lie because none of the girls believed it, they just looked at her instead.

“It’s ok to be nervous, Y/n,” Lessie said, patting Y/n’s arm. “Everyone here was new at first, except Leah who’s been here since she was a kid,” Lessie joked cheekily, looking at the captain. “I know you’ll feel more at home in no time.”

Lessie was a real sweetie, trying to make Y/n feel welcome, little did she know that the whole  new kid thing had moved way down the list of her problems today.

“Thank you, Lessie. It will get easier in the next few days.” Y/n smiled. Thank God the girls haven’t known her yet, because they would have been able to tell right away how much of a fake smile Y/n was putting on.

The 17-year-old shifted her position, stretching her arm and trying not to move too much, afraid that the blood would stainfic her kit. Well, who she was kidding, judging  by her flow it was safe to say that her bottom and the middle of her tights were a war zone right now.

She just needed to wait a few more minutes and then the players would all be gone and the girl would be able to take a shower in the changing room, then take a cap home, put a pad on, and clean her kit as if nothing happened.

Just a few more minutes and no one would know.

One by one the girls got up and went to the changing room to get ready to go home. Y/n prayed that they would take their showers at home and not in the changing room, that way they would go home faster and Y/n would be able to get the situation under control.

McCabe and Foord were the last ones to get up from the floor. “Are you coming, Y/n?” The Matilda asked, smiling.

“Yeah, right behind you,” Y/n said with fake enthusiasm.

When the two older women entered the changing room Y/n waited for a few minutes. Y/n stood up very carefully, scared to look at the floor and find a pool of her period blood, luckily the floor was spotless.

“Ok, that was close, I just need to—”

“Oh kid, I think you got your period!”

No, no, no, no.

Y/n froze.

The voice Y/n heard came from behind her back, it belonged to Leah. The young girl was mortified, Leah could very well see the stain of blood in her clothes. 

Fuck, getting your period unexpectedly was very embarrassing, but to have Leah Williamson, team captain, and lioness captain, the woman who you had a very innocent crush on (who wouldn't? come on), tell you you had  period was even worse, Y/n thought to herself, still trying to find the courage to face the captain.

Y/n felt a warm hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got some tampons if you need them, They’re in my locker, c’mon, I’ll give you some, ok?” Leah said, her voice soft now as if she knew the girl was embarrassed.

Y/n turned around, her cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I-I didn’t know I was getting my period today,” Y/n said, avoiding making eye contact with Leah. 

“It’s alright, stuff like that happens all the time, especially here,” Leah said, putting her arm around the young girl’s shoulder and leading her to the changing room. “We are a team of what? 30 women, we just learn to work around periods, and cramps and all that, that’s why we have a gynaecologist.”

Y/n remained silent, looking at the floor and wishing a double-decker bus would kill her right now.

They got into the locker room, half the girls were still in there.

Yeah, I’m definitely throwing myself in front of the first car that drives by, there is no way that this is my first day and I’m already making a fool of myself. Y/n thought as she sat in front of Leah's locker after grabbing her jacket and tying it around her waist. The others didn’t need to see the mess in her training shorts too.

The captain was very calm, whistling Sweet Carolina as she opened a toiletry bag. It looked like she was very used to these types of situations. Y/n wondered if Leah had gone through this t with any of the other girls on the team before.

“What size do you usually use?” Leah asked bluntly, clearly not trying to be subtle about it. Yeah, maybe she was a bit too comfortable with this topic. “I only have like, super plus,” Leah said, showing you a lilac packed with tampons in it.

“Hm, I normally just have regulars or smalls,” Y/n said hesitantly. “But these are ok, thank you.” They were not ok, Y/n looked at the tampons and knew they wouldn't fit comfortably.

Y/n was never a tampon girl, she always thought pads were more comfortable, she only used tampons on match days or during hard training sessions.

Y/n reached out d to take the pack of tampons from Leah’s hand, but before she could do that Leah shouted to the other side of the changing room. “Hey, Kyra, Less, have either of you got smaller tampons? Y/n needs some.”

“No! It’s alright, please, I don’t want to be a both–”

“I’ve got some,” Less said, smiling af if she was very happy to help. “Here Y/n, these are regulars, but I also have a small one too if you need it.” The blonde handed Y/n a blue box, which the young girl took.

“Thank you, you both,” Y/n said sincerely.

“Is that why you were a bit sad during the cool-down?” Less asked

“Hm, yeah, I just was - well, I am a bit embarrassed and all that, I know periods are normal and blah blah blah, but I��m just a little uncomfortable about it.” You confess, looking at Leah and Less.

“Periods are hard to talk about because people think we should be ashamed,,” Beth said Y/n hadn’t even noticed the lioness was in the changing room. “You're gonna get used to it, you are just a teen, when you grow old you’ll just realize it’s a part of you.”

Y/n smiled, feeling more at ease. Maybe she wouldn't throw herself into traffic after all” :)

“This conversation reminds me of  when I got my first period, I was so embarrassed,” Leah said, holding the bridge of her nose. “I was 14 training on the pitch with the Arsenal youth team when the head coach blew the whistle and asked very loudly if I had gotten hurt because there was blood running down my leg.”

“I just put the ball down and ran to the locker room,” Leah said laughing. “Then Maureen, the assistant coach, came down to talk to me and handed me these big pads and asked me if It was my first period.”

“Oh my first period was during the Matildas Under 15 tournament,” Kyra said. “I had just turned 14, but my mum made me carry a bag of tampons and stuff like that everywhere, so the first time it happened I just went to the toilet and told my friends about it. 

Then every girl shared some funny, and not so funny period story, which made Y/n feel calmer. 

Y/n would get along with the Gunners, she knew it.

[kaminocasey]

Make Me Wanna

Pairing: Benny Miller (Triple Frontier) x F!Reader

Summary: You get home from being in South America for two years and your best friend Benny is more than happy to have you back.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI; suggestive content, alcohol consumption but not drunk drinking, maybe super duper light angst? Just a lot flirty fluffy stuff with Benny. Santi and Frankie are married (bc I love them your honor).

WC: 3.4k

A/N: Ahhh so this isn't star wars BUT I got excited about Pedro being Reed Richards and then started watching Triple Frontier edits and then Benny popped up and next thing you know I've not been able to stop thinking about him lmao. Also, I listened to a lot of country music (bc Benny is a cutie southern boy ya know?) while writing and made a lil playlist. Song is based off by “Make Me Wanna” by Thomas Rhett. Part two is definitely gonna happen bc I can't NOT write smut for this fine ass man.

Playlist | Taglist Form | Part 2

(Gif/Pic from pinterest)

You've been gone for the last two years, teaching English in South America. Tonight is your debut back into Floridian life. The second day when you got back into town, you ran into Santi while grocery shopping and he invited you over to his and Frankie’s place for a bonfire and cookout. You’d immediately asked if Benny was gonna be there and he gave you a knowing smirk and told you yes.

So here you are. Dressed up in a sky blue (Benny’s favorite color on you) sundress on a Saturday night in June. It’s a whopping 70 degrees and while you’re normally freezing cold in this kind of weather, you know that the bonfire will feel good. And maybe the arms of a certain blond southern boy. 

“There she is!” You hear Santi’s smooth voice as you walk around the back of the house from the side yard.

You give a smile to Santi and Frankie, greeting them with a hug. 

“You look good, sweetheart.” Frankie kisses you on the cheek. 

“Thank you.” You smile. “Where’s-”

“He’s on a beer run with Will… should be back any minute.” Santi winks. 

You roll your eyes and nod. “What happened? Drink it all?” 

Santi chuckles and grabs you a bottle out of the cooler, opening it for you. “Just getting low is all.”

You hum softly and look around at the back of the house. “House looks good, guys.”

“You wanna see the inside?” Frankie asks.

You nod eagerly and follow Frankie inside as Santi starts up the grill. As he leads you throughout the house, you look at the pictures hanging up and can’t help but smile. There are many of their families but there’s also pictures of their team. Or you suppose their second family. 

You stop to look at one photo sitting above the mantle in the living room. It’s familiar and brings back a sense of nostalgia. It’s a photo of you and Benny and Will. But you and Benny are passed out on the couch, longways with you on top of him. Or at least you’re passed out. Will is giving Benny what you’re pretty sure is a wet willy and Benny is smirking and flipping off the camera while his other arm remains around you. You’re completely oblivious to their tomfoolery and comfy in Benny’s arms. You have the same photo, which is now still packed away in some boxes that you’ve been too busy to unpack. 

You had grown up with Benny and Will, having been their neighbors since childhood. Your moms were friends and had always wanted the two of you to end up together. But he joined the army and left you behind. It had put a bit of a strain on your friendship for a bit. Until he came back. It was always as if no time had passed every time he came home. Eventually he introduced you to the guys and they all took a liking to you and became permanently invited to every holiday and gathering. A nice addition to their little family.

“He’s gonna be excited to see you. We haven’t told him.” Frankie smirks.

“He hates surprises.” You chuckle, scratching his scruff. “You need to shave.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Frankie bats your hand away. “And don’t worry. He’ll like this surprise.” 

Frankie leads you upstairs to show you the guest bedrooms. As you walk into one of the bedrooms, you hear Benny’s low booming voice outside and you peek out the window, down into the backyard. 

He’s wearing his signature backwards green baseball cap, an open blue flannel with a white tee underneath, and well fitting jeans. Your chest tightens at the sight of him just as it always has. He turns up the radio of his truck and starts singing to his brother playfully. Will tosses a lawn chair over to him, cracking up. You can’t help but smile. 

“Come on, coriño.” Frankie nods for you to follow him. 

He leaves the room but you watch Benny for another moment, smiling to yourself. Unfortunately, the nerves still flutter about in your stomach. You’d not seen the man in two years. He looked the same mostly, but a little buffer, like he’d spent more time in the gym. You suppose he had to for his MMA stuff. Santi had told you he was a massive talent in Florida, traveling around the state doing it. 

You turn to go back down outside and find Frankie in the kitchen grabbing more stuff to grill. 

“You’re sure he’s going to want to see me?” You ask, softly before opening the back door.

“Trust me, he’s gonna shit himself.” Frankie teases.

“That’s not always a good thing, you know.” You sigh, making the older man laugh before you open the door and head out.

“Hey Frankie tell your husband-” Benny starts but stops when he sees that it’s you coming outside instead of Frankie.

He stops dead in his tracks, his lips parted with confusion. He murmurs your name and you slowly walk down the back porch steps toward the group which has all of a sudden gotten real quiet. Santi and Will both grin like dummies. 

“You- you’re home?” Benny asks in disbelief.

I nod. “I’m home.” 

As if time starts back up, he rushes to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up, spinning you around. His nose is buried in your neck and you can’t help but smile as your arms wrap around his neck.

He sets you back down but his arms don’t leave your body. “God, look at you.” 

Your insides go warm as you glance around at the guys who all look like they’re about to combust from not teasing. “Me? Look at you. You got huge.” 

You squeeze his biceps in a teasing manner, looking up into piercing blue eyes that you used to be able to get lost in. God, you missed him so much. 

As if he can read your mind, he pulls you into another hug. He’s still your best friend. 

“Two fuckin’ years, darlin’.” Benny shakes his head.

“I know… I know. I’m home, though.” You cup his face, scratching at the growing scruff.

He leans into your touch, covering your hand with his own bigger hand, as if he’s afraid to let you go. 

“Jesus… this dress…” Benny smirks, pulling back so he can look you up and down.

You go warm in the face. “You like it?” 

“Love it.” He hums. “Always loved this color on ya.”

“I know.” You smirk up at him, running your hands down to his chest.

“Yeah yeah, okay you guys can mack faces later.” Will pulls you away into a hug.

Benny starts to protest as Will smirks. 

“It’s good to see you too, Will.” You laugh softly and then pull away.

Benny immediately pulls you back into his side. As if it’s exactly where you belong. 

“I had no idea you were coming either.” Will grabs a beer and pops it open.

“That’s because you’re terrible at secrets, hermano.” Santi laughs, wrapping an arm around Frankie’s waist.

It’s true. Will can’t keep a secret to save his life.  

Benny leads you away from the guys and pulls the tailgate down on his truck. Before you can jump up to sit, Benny’s hands find your waist and give you a lift, making your dress scrunch up a bit. He leans against the tailgate on his forearm. His elbow rubs against your thigh and you go warm in the face. You take a drink, hoping that if he points it out, you can blame it on the alcohol or at least the fire.

When you look at him, his gaze is on your bare thigh and you playfully slug him. 

“Hey. Eyes up here, Benjamin Miller.” You tease.

“Easier said than done.” He mutters and you laugh.

It takes no time to get back into the swing of how things have always been with the two of you. Flirty and friendly. 

“I’ve really missed you, you know.” He turns to lean on both elbows, facing toward you as he rests his drink on the tailgate. 

You smile and take his hat. “I know. I missed you too.” 

He tries to take the hat back but you pull it behind you so that when he reaches for it, you run your hands through his hair.

“Your hair is longer.” You notice.

He hums softly, closing his eyes as he leans into your touch. “Can’t decide if I should keep it or cut it.”

“I like it this way.” You murmur. 

He opens his eyes and you’re met with ocean eyes as he leans his hands on both sides of your body on the tailgate. Your thighs spread automatically as he makes himself comfy between them.

“Yeah?” He smirks.

“Yeah.” You grin, glancing down at his lips.

His own eyes make their way to your lips and you tilt your head, wondering if this would be the moment he finally kisses you. The warmth of the fire and the soft country music surrounds the two of you comfortably and you rest your forehead against his.

“Come home with me tonight…” He murmurs, nudging your nose with his own as his finger traces a lazy pattern on your thigh. 

“Yeah, okay.” You nod.

You nearly beg him to take you up to one of the guest rooms, but you figure that would be impolite to Frankie and Santi. 

All of a sudden, you’re snapped out of the moment with Benny as Frankie calls over to you guys. 

“Food’s ready!”

Benny sighs, clearly annoyed but smiles at you regardless and calls back over to Frankie as he takes the hat and puts it back on, backwards. “Okay, thanks!”

You smile up at him and start to hop off the tailgate but he stops you.

“Let me help ya, darlin’.” He smirks, his hands finding your waist to help you down.

“You don’t have to-” You go warm in the face again at the pet name and his hands on you.

The urge to grab him and pull him into the truck so you can have your way with each other is too strong right now. The guys be damned. 

“Can’t seem to keep my hands to myself…” He murmurs, his hand finding your lower back as he guides you over to where the guys are sitting down to eat. 

“I’m not complaining.” You murmur to him.

He grins to himself at the same time that you grin to yourself. You sit between Benny and Frankie as you all eat, Benny’s arm never leaving the back of your chair. 

They all end up asking you a million questions about Rio, your job there, and if you’re excited for your new job at the high school in town, teaching Spanish.

“If you ever need pointers, just ask me and Fish.” Santi teases.

You laugh and then start speaking in Spanish to each other. Benny’s eyes can’t seem to leave you, which is noticed by everyone. Even you. You lean into him like it’s just the most natural thing in the world. It truly feels like no time has passed at all. 

They start catching you up on their lives. Frankie and Santi are about to go on vacation to the Maldives. Will’s dating one of your soon to be coworkers. And Benny’s just been doing his MMA stuff. They tell you about Tom’s incident on a mission gone wrong and how the money they’d been able to get had gone to his family. You had heard from your mom that he had passed but she didn’t know much more than that. “I’m so sorry guys. Are the girls and Molly okay?” You ask, leaning closer into the crook of Benny’s arm.

“They’re doing better. It’s been what, a year?” Will asks Santi.

Santi nods and then the conversation starts to turn brighter when Will says he’s planning on asking his girlfriend to marry him. Everyone gets excited. As you lean forward to squeeze his hand, Benny’s arm slides down to your waist and his hand settles around your ass. You let out a small gasp that only he hears. 

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He whispers in your ear as the other three start talking amongst themselves. 

You nod. “Yes please.” 

He grins and then stands up. You follow suit and everyone immediately starts smirking at the two of you. 

“I’m gonna make sure she gets home safe.” Benny says and you can see the hope in his eyes that the guys aren’t going to give you guys shit.

But unfortunately, that’s not their style.

“Oh sure.” Frankie smirks knowingly.

“Get her home… so safe.” Santi’s smirk matches his husband’s as he winks.

“Use a condom.” Will just grins and your eyes go wide and your face goes hot. 

“Oh Jesus Christ.” Benny says, starting to pull you away from the table. 

“Safe sex is no joking matter, Benjamin.” Santi teases. 

“Nah, I think we’re gonna go raw.” You roll your eyes. “Thanks for the concern though.” 

All three guys burst out laughing at the same time that Benny gives you a proud look, his cheeks pink from being flustered by your choice of words. You and Benny make your way to his truck as the guys all continue to tease you from across the yard. Benny slams the tailgate and then opens the passenger side door for you, flipping them off as he closes the door.

When he gets in, he rolls the windows up and looks at you for a moment, smiling. “Hi.”

“Hey there.” You hold your hand out for his and he looks down at it for a moment before intertwining his fingers with yours.

He brings your hand up to his lips. “Did I tell you how much I missed you?” 

You laugh softly as he pulls out of Santi and Frankie’s backyard and onto the street. “I think you did but I don’t mind hearing it again.” 

“I missed you so fuckin’ much, darlin’.” He squeezes your hand.

You push the center console up to turn the front seats into one and slide into the middle, next to Benny. 

“Better?” You ask as you buckle the middle seatbelt.

His hand falls to your thigh like it absolutely belongs there. “Much. Thank you.” 

When the two of you were in high school, and you were out with Will, you’d sit in the middle of the two of them in their truck. Benny’s arm would always be around you, resting on the back of the seat. It was truly no wonder everyone and their mother thought the two of you were together.

“Reminds me of old times.” You rest your head on his shoulder as you wrap your right hand around his bicep as he drives toward his place. 

He hums in agreement. “God, I had such a crush on you back then. I’m so dumb for not telling you sooner. Especially since I could’ve been touching you like this the whole time…” 

“Well… yeah… but I could’ve also said something.” You laugh.

“I mean… it felt like everyone knew the two of us… belonged to each other, in a way?” He glances at you with a wide grin that makes your chest tighten. 

You nod in agreement. “Since day one.” 

“Since day one.” He nods. “And until the last day.” 

Your breath catches in your throat. It’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to you. 

A country song plays on the radio and you’re pretty sure it’s Luke Bryan but you can’t be sure. Benny sings along to it, making your insides warm and you can’t seem to look away. 

“What song is this?”

“‘I Don’t Want This Night to End’ by Luke Bryan.” He tells you, smiling while removing his hand from your thigh and putting his arm around you on the back of the seat like he used to. 

“Appropriate.” You smile, settling into the crook of his arm comfortably and he continues to practically serenade you. 

When you finally get to Benny’s house, the same place he’s lived since he got home permanently, he puts the truck into park on the street in front of the house. He had taken you house hunting with him when he got home from his last tour, wanting your “female perspective”. At the time, you thought maybe he was taking you with him to pop the girlfriend question but it never happened and you tried to move past it.

“Sorry, I’ve been waiting almost 20 years for this.” He says and before you can ask what he means, his hand finds the back of your head and pulls you in to plant his lips against yours. He tastes a bit like beer but it’s not that big of a deal, you’re just happy to have his lips against yours finally. 

Butterflies move from your stomach, down south, and then all throughout your body. You unclick your seatbelt, he unclicks his, and you climb into his lap, straddling him. Neither of your lips break apart in the move. He groans against you as his hands travel down to your ass, squeezing perfectly so that you whimper into the kiss. 

“Couldn’t wait til we got inside… I’m sorry, babygirl…” He rasps as his lips travel to your neck. “Well… only kinda sorry.” 

You laugh breathlessly. “I was about to say… don’t be sorry… I couldn’t wait either.”

He peppers kisses all the way down to your collarbone as he talks. “Wanted to take you up to one of those nice guest rooms at Frankie and Santi’s…” 

“The thought crossed my mind.” You hum softly. 

“Yeah?” He hums as he continues to suck a mark into the crook of your neck and shoulder. 

“Yeah.” You moan, breathlessly, grinding against him so that your dress slides up around your waist a bit.

He groans softly, squeezing you roughly. “Good to know we still share a brain just like we always have.” 

It’s true. The two of you have always been so in tune with each other, you could never imagine having this with anyone else. 

“Is that brain of yours thinking what I’m thinking?” You ask, nodding toward his house.

“Hell yeah, darlin’.” He brings his lips to yours again but doesn’t make a move to get out. You tilt your head curiously, not sure what he’s thinking right this second.

“What is it?”

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He looks up at you as if you hung the stars and moon yourself.

Heat courses through your veins for him and you lean your forehead against his. 

“I mean it, babygirl… you have always been it for me. This is what I’ve been waiting my whole life for.” He cups your face, looking into your eyes. Searching, to make you understand the seriousness of what he’s saying. “I love you. With my entire heart and soul, which belong to you. Always have, always will.”

A lump forms in your throat and you can’t help but crush your lips to his, a soft cry escaping against the kiss. 

“Oh darlin’, what-”

“Ugh. Sorry.” You wipe your eyes, trying to not wipe your mascara. “I’ve just… I’ve been waiting for this too… And I feel like we wasted so much time being apart…” 

He nods, understanding. “Well… we’re together now… right?” 

You grin, nodding, and he wipes a few more stray tears from the corners of your eyes and cheeks, still looking at you like you’re some sort of celestial being he would gladly get down on his hands and knees and worship. The way he’s always looked at you…

“What do you say… we go inside and I can try to make up for lost time?” He offers, his low voice going straight to your warmth.

“Yes please.” You give him a sweet smile and he kisses you again before you climb out of his lap and head up to the house, hand in hand, finally heading toward the future you’ve been waiting your whole life for.

[onlyfangz]

why are all of my based on your likes! posts speculating about famous lesbians not really being lesbians? i checked my likes, theres nothing in there. you all need to stop being fucking weird about lesbians tho. especially lesbians who have dated/fucked men in the past. you look like a toddler with your gold stars.

[bnnuy-wabbit]

this entire Music Taste debate thing re:rap is getting annoying really fast. Im not USian enough for this.

[sluttyten]

yall I want TDS3 tickets so badly 😭 but I don't know who to even go with and I'm not going by myself.... but I'm also seriously thinking I'm just gonna go ahead and try to get tickets on friday anyway

[bandzboy]

i will say this tho… the reason why most kpop groups don’t come to europe is because in comparison to maybe the usa, the market for kpop music there is better than in europe and also since companies nowadays are obsessed with making groups international (promoting them in the us basically) they know it’s easy money over there honestly that’s what i think

[danidoesathing]

one of the things I love about Vide Noir is how both the album and the movie uses Buck, an already established character from the previous album, as the protagonist to recontextualize a lot of songs from both Vide Noir and Strange Trails

like the movie puts his Strange Trails songs into perspective. Fool for Love is Buck using music to talk about (and almost mock himself for) what happened during the Vide Noir movie. Louisa is about Lee, but it also calls into question when exactly Buck wrote the song and whether or not it was before Lee actually left him and whether or not that has anything to do with the name change. Dead Man's Hand is given even more depth because we actually saw the story play out, and that the lyrics show more how Buck actually sees Johnnie and their encounter instead of what actually happened. Cursed could be seen a lot of different ways, the most likely one being how he felt throughout the movie committing various crimes and immoral actions all in the name of "love" (or maybe he hooks up with a witch later on or something, who knows with that guy)

but then there's the songs in the Vide Noir album. A lot of the songs that are credited to in-universe musicians/bands have a certain style to them (ie Frankie's songs are slow and almost mournful with an emphasis on ghosts, the Phantom Riders' songs tend to be more of the rockabilly genre and ben schneider uses a lower tone of voice for the lead singer, etc etc). Buck is credited as a country musician who tends to use an acoustic guitar, and his Strange Trails songs tend to reflect that. But while he is the primary narrator, the only song in the Vide Noir album that really reflects his style (and him as a person) is the first one, Lost in Time in Space, when Buck wakes up in the forest with no memory after getting black-brained. The rest of the album is very different in style as he recalls the prior events, and while there is still a lot of acoustic guitar in the songs it's, and I quote "usually, it’s distorted and blown to shit." A lot of the music is distorted in some sense, which. given the whole "obliteration of the self" that Vide Noir is stated to cause, likely symbolizes Buck slowly losing himself in his pursuit to find Lee. his last moment before he loses his identity as a person is, ironically, the moments where he can't even remember who he is. The only other song I could argue in the album that's vaguely similar to his style is Emerald Star, which is still very distorted and more or less "falls apart" in the end. He may have held on to some of himself but he's too far gone and too different from who he used to be for it to be anything recognizable. He had given up everything to find her, in his own sense of self, and it was all for nothing. damn.

I also would like to bring up the odd emphasis on death throughout his music. More specifically, Fool for Love being a metaphor for his journey in Vide Noir work almost perfectly except for the ending. Buck doesn't die at the end of Vide Noir (shot both in the leg and in the heart, but alive nonetheless), even if Emerald Star and Fool for Love implies otherwise. But I don't think he means it in the literal sense.

[biromanticwritergal]

Rules: Tag 10 people you want to get to know better

Tagged by @burningvelvet. Thank you for inviting me to the tag game! :)

Relationship Status: Currently single and I'm working on trying to build up my life so I can date.

Favorite Color: To wear is red though I also really like purple. I have more purple accessories but I wear most colors. I have many colorful outfits.

Song Stuck In My Head: Love by Lana Del Rey but there are others that can play on command in my head if I hear the title/the band.

ABBA, Meg & Dia, Emilie Autumn, Flyleaf, Avril Lavigne and Skillet are some artists that I have looping in my head often.

Last Song I Listened To: Cheater, Cheater by Joey and Rory (my spotify was on shuffle)

I like country probably more than people would expect but I am more of a pop/dance queen though. I have made Eurovision playlists in the past.

Three Favorite Foods: Pears, Potatoes (in many forms), and Greek salads or wraps. But I love most food in general. I'm not a super picky eater. I like to cook and make baked goods. I spend a lot of time in the kitchen.

Last Thing(s) I Googled: Pharmacy hours because I had to pick up more medication.

I also looked up an actor's age because my sister and I were trying to figure out how old he was (she was right or close- I thought he was younger- he's on one of my mom's shows). I'm usually the go to googler for my family, especially when they ask about actors or actresses in movies and tv shows we watch.

Links to my college's website, goodreads, storygraph, youtube and list challenges. I'm making more reading lists on list challenges (again).

Sorry it's nothing too interesting lately. My YouTube searches are probably more interesting but only marginally so. I'm not at school or working on any research projects currently so my searches are very basic right now.

Dream Trip: Japan. I'd like to go with close friends and/or family members though since it would be a big deal to go that far. I've been following a japan travel vlog by a woman who lives there. She shows all kinds of cafes and other fun places to go. You can watch/follow her vlog here: https://www.youtube.com/@its_time_to_travel

I'd love to be able to go to some of the places she's featured on her blog. It would be the trip of a lifetime! I'd be sure to try to learn some Japanese first too since I'm visiting their country and that seems polite to do. I know a few random words but can't read or write anything or even hold a conversation.

If I can't go to Japan, I'd love to go back to either Germany or England, but to the parts I didn't visit since there are tons of places in both those countries I've never been too. I really want to go to Haworth (The Bronte Sister's hometown), since I'm a Bronte fan and I've focused some of my grad studies on their works.

This is a tag post so I'm tagging:

@paperbackpropensity, @thatwritererinoriordan, @oh2e, @yeahwellshithappens, @autumnbell32, @writingf3, @windermerepoets13, @melusinah, @girlonedge and whoever else wants to do this! :)

[readymades2002]

something difficult about writing/storytelling but only in short disconnected bursts is that writing anything longform is very difficult. there isn't as much time to practice long-term character development or subtlety (implying character instead of immediately clarifying) when its not really meant to go anywhere but a notes app. its a little frustrating...i'd love to do something more longform though. i've considered maybe just doing some short writing scenes in my various original universes a lot recently mostly because i just havent had time to draw anything fancy recently </3 maybe that would be something...

[vogelmeister]

thinking about the australian cultural cringe on this sunny sunday hbu

[peapod20001]

Talk About The Band

Heheheogo ok so their fuckin thrown together high school band doesn’t have a name still rip BUT they DID play together and they CAN still play

My only music knowledge is thru google searches but pretty much Blondee is lead guitar and vocals , August was the rhythm guitar and vocals (him and Blondee can switch sometimes (also he’s the rich kid that had lots of intruments he’d play)) , Goose did bass guitar occasionally but usually he’d play dumb shit like the cowbell , Max was the drummer exclusively (not a singer, more of a yeller) , Ozzie did the set up for things cus the others are lowkey stupid (he would sing SOMETIMES and he can play the others instruments if needed (also unrelated to the band but he played violin)) , and Dahlia was a singer (and also played dumb shit with Goose)

They ALL still play, but it’s more of a hobby than a lifestyle

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I’ll listen to music that’s new to me but in genres I like and I’m like “this is so normal though” when talking about it but then I hear common pop like Taylor swift or something and I’m like “oh. This is definitely a different genre actually”

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

I'm getting emotional over "In a Big Country" again, only it's different this time because I've just heard it (and appreciated it) musically in a way I never have before, and can I just say AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS SONG IS MORE OF A GEM THAN ANYONE CAN IMAGINE

Also, with this video and MANY PERFORMANCES LIKE IT BEFORE AND THEREAFTER, when Tony goes over to play merrily beside Bruce - I think that has a whole lot more meaning than anyone has ever cared to notice, and I think (rather than speculating) it has as much to do with the song musically at that part as it does lyrically and what that symbolizes (as in, why Tony always chooses that almost exact moment to go over to Bruce specifically and join him physically as he plays that part). ...and what it has to do with it musically I cannot say just yet, because it might turn into a full-blown analysis and therefore I wouldn't want to spoil it. LOL

[eggmeralda]

okay music question (feel free to still answer if you don't do all 3 of these): what style of music do you listen to most + what style do you enjoy seeing live + what style do you prefer to play, and are they all different or do they overlap?

[hope-for-the-planet]

Trans person in the US. Bust some of the doomerism for me? Tell me it's going to be okay?

Hi Anon

Usually, I have boundaries for myself about keeping this blog focused on environment-related issues, because there are limits to what I can speak knowledgeably about. But now doesn’t feel like the time for that.

Anon, I will tell you that I live in the US, I am queer, my spouse is trans, and we have two young children. I am sitting right there with you in the fear and grief and every day when I ask myself “is there still hope” I find reasons to say “yes”.

They want us—all of us, not just queer folks—to feel overwhelmed and hopeless, because despair is a tool that keeps people from realizing their power and taking action.

They want us to feel so afraid that we lose our faith in other people and withdraw from our communities, because we are easier to conquer alone.

Do not give them what they want.

Hope is most necessary in the bad times. The ability to imagine a future that is better than things are now is exactly what gives us the power to begin making things better. Our community has been through terrible things before, and they did not lose hope or give up—otherwise we would not be where we are today.

When you start to feel like all the light is being blotted out, turn off the news, put away your phone, and go get in touch with something you love. Go outside and look at the sky, talk to a friend, listen to music, do some small thing to make something better even if it’s just cleaning your kitchen or picking up some litter around the block or returning an extra stranded cart in the grocery store parking lot. Remind your brain that you have agency to make positive change in the world through your actions.

I know it is really hard to pull out of the darkness sometimes. I know there will be days that hope seems like a foolish, naive thing, that despair and distrust seem like the only rational options. But hope is what keeps us alive. Hope is what allows us to save each other.

I wish I could give you a specific article or other source to reassure you that everything is going to be ok, but things are still too in flux day by day. I can tell you that people are already fighting back, in big and little ways, all over this country and the world. These orders and bills are being pushed by a loud but small minority—this is not how the majority of the country feels about trans rights.

Make a plan for staying safe. Reach out to your community. Find music, activities, podcasts, movies, whatever helps you feel uplifted and take mental breaks from dwelling on the news. If you can, find ways to get involved in making things better in whatever big or small way feels doable for you--it may help push back on the doomerism more than you think. And my inbox is open if you need to talk.

I wish I could invite you over for dinner. I wish I could look into your eyes and tell you that things may get hard for the next few years but that does not mean that your life can't still be full of joy and beauty and fulfillment in spite of that.

I’m right there with you. Let’s make it through this together <3

[coquettepascal]

texas sweet

summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?

tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)

-> part. ii here!

a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.

texas sweet masterlist and my masterlist

(4.9k, not beta read.)

Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying. 

Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.

What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.

No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.

Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.

Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes. 

Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones. 

So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?

You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does. 

‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you. 

Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.

He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to. 

Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job. 

��Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.

Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together. 

—

And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.

Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.

Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–

“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.

“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.

A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh– You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point. 

“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.

“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.

“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.

“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.

Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.

“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there. 

He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.

But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–

“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats. 

—

You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.

And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.

Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute? 

A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel. 

“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable. 

He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.

“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.

“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.

Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.

“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”

He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing. 

This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.

You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird. 

This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn’t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone. 

He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.

“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.

“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.

God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars. 

“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.

You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice. 

You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath. 

He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.

“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. 

The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.

Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”

Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.

It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.

He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.

“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,” you offer. 

Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.

“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.

Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.

—

You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.

Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.

Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.

Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.

“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.

Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.

“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.

He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him. 

Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years. 

This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.

Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing. 

Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, voice tight.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.

Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.

“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.

You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.

Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.

Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this. 

His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks. 

You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.

Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again.

Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him. 

Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.

Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.

“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?” 

It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either. 

Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.

Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers. 

“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering. 

Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay. 

“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you. 

—

Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.

You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.

“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.

Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?

Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough. 

“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.” 

And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.

Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.

“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out. 

Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.

“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.