#tufted head board

[abconcerns]

Master - Bedroom

Gray walls and no fireplace characterize this idea for a medium-sized traditional master bedroom.

[adventuresinmonsterland]

Master - Bedroom

Gray walls and no fireplace characterize this idea for a medium-sized traditional master bedroom.

[phauxtography]

Master - Bedroom

Gray walls and no fireplace characterize this idea for a medium-sized traditional master bedroom.

[vegetarianburrito]

Atlanta Bedroom Bedroom - mid-sized traditional master bedroom idea with gray walls and no fireplace

[shirtlessfrank]

Master - Bedroom A picture of a medium-sized, modern master bedroom with a brown floor and a medium-toned wood floor, white walls, and no fireplace

[glennkotche]

Bedroom - Transitional Bedroom Huge image of a transitional master bedroom with a beige floor, a standard fireplace, and a wood fireplace surround, and blue walls.

[twispicalstephen]

Bedroom - Midcentury Bedroom

Picture of a medium-sized guest bedroom from the mid-century modern era with a gray carpet and no fireplace.

[wnltl]

Master - Bedroom

Gray walls and no fireplace characterize this idea for a medium-sized traditional master bedroom.

[markruffalove]

Master - Bedroom Gray walls and no fireplace characterize this idea for a medium-sized traditional master bedroom.

[whatsernameanyways]

Atlanta Bedroom Bedroom - mid-sized traditional master bedroom idea with gray walls and no fireplace

[birdcageromance]

Tampa Bedroom

Mid-sized beach style loft-style bamboo floor bedroom photo with blue walls and no fireplace

[flavorsims]

Eclectic Bedroom Ideas for remodeling a small eclectic master bedroom with a dark wood floor and blue walls

[nehi-soda]

Push Your Luck -

Jackson!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: You loved lying with Joel and listening to his music, but tonight, your need for him was impossible to ignore. So you decided to push—just a little. Maybe tonight, you would be lucky.

Word count: 2.6K

Warnings: established relationship but reader’s first sexual encounter with Joel, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected P in V sex, pulling out method as a form of contraception (be safe, don't be like them), descriptions of arousal and masturbation, fluff, smut, general filth, dirty talk, grumpy!joel, a dash of soft!joel, jackson!joel, cum, saliva, pet names (honey, baby, darlin'). No use of Y/N. Mood board is for aesthetics only; the reader's features aren't specified.

A/N: This was inspired by these images by @elliespuns, which have been playing on my mind and making me feral. Enjoy!

Joel's room was warm, the gentle crackle of his old records filling the quiet space with the soft hum of Johnny Cash. You were both sprawled on his bed like usual, your right leg resting over his rough jeans, a comfortable mess of limbs. The quiet between you wasn’t awkward—just the kind of stillness that comes after the world outside has been shut out for the night.

Joel had one arm tucked under his head, his other hand resting on the curve of your hip. His thumb absentmindedly traced lazy circles on your skin. But what he didn’t know—what he was completely unaware of—was that those small, soft touches were driving you insane. Each pass of his thumb sent ripples of heat straight to your core, making it impossible to think about anything other than how badly you wanted him.

Every time his skin grazed yours, your body responded, a subtle shift of your hips, a quiet shudder in your breath. The warmth of him pressed against you, the solid weight of his body beside yours—it only made the ache between your legs grow sharper.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to move, to press yourself against him, to grind your hips just enough to get some relief. You wondered if he could feel the heat rolling off your body, the throbbing need emanating from between your thighs.

His gaze was distant, fixed somewhere on the ceiling, lost in thoughts you couldn’t quite reach. There was always that slight hesitation in him, a part of him that held back, even when you were this close.

You shifted slightly, turning toward him, your fingers playing with the buttons of his flannel shirt. Joel’s breath hitched, and you noticed how his muscles tightened under your touch.

Without saying anything, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of his jaw. His stubble brushed your lips, rough and familiar. He closed his eyes as if surrendering to the moment, even if just for a second.

“Joel,” you whispered against his skin, the sound of his name more of a comfort than a question. Your lips moved lower, trailing a path down his neck, slow and deliberate, feeling his pulse beneath your mouth. He exhaled, a sound caught between a sigh and a groan, his hands resting on your hips as if he was trying to hold himself back, trying to keep some semblance of control.

His shirt was already half undone, so you pushed it open the rest of the way, revealing his thickly tufted chest. He was broad, built from years of hard work and survival, but there was a softness there, too, a gentle curve to his belly that you adored. His skin was smooth but scattered with old scars and faint marks, each one telling a different story of a life lived in a world that hadn’t been kind.

Your lips found the base of his throat again, lingering there for a moment before you started your descent. You trailed tender kisses down his chest like drops of rain rolling down weathered stone. 

“What are you doin’?” He asked, almost sounding annoyed.

You didn’t answer, instead you dragged your tongue across his pec, feeling the way his breath caught as you moved lower, tasting the salt on his skin. His chest rose and fell beneath your lips. He tensed as you kissed down to his belly. You nipped at the flesh there, teasing him, hearing the low growl that rumbled up from his throat, a warning or maybe an invitation.

Your hands gripped his sides as you made your way down, slow and purposeful, your lips grazing the faint trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. The heat radiating from his body was intense, pulling you in. His scent was raw and earthy, a mix of leather and something so uniquely Joel —it was all so intoxicating.

You’d never gotten past this point without him tugging you back, always stopping you before things could go any further. He was the one who kept that line drawn—held it tight. 

When you reached the top of his jeans, you slid off the edge of the bed to settle between his legs, your bare knees sinking onto the rug beneath you. Your lips pressed to the spot just above where the denim began, breathing him in more.

His cock already strained against the fabric of his jeans, the outline thick and urgent, demanding attention. 

It would be rude not to oblige.

You unbuckled his belt slowly and undid his jeans, your fingers brushing against him as you pulled back the fabric. He let out a deep breath as you ran your hand over him, feeling the heat, the need that he was trying so hard to hold back. “Relax,” you murmured, freeing his cock out of the waistband of his boxers. “Let me take care of you.”

Your hands gripped his thighs as you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the base of his cock. He groaned, his hand coming to tangle in your hair, not pulling, just holding, as if he wasn’t sure if he should let you continue. “Baby, you don’t have to…” Joel’s voice was rough, strained with the effort of keeping himself in check, but you could hear the desperation in it, the way his words trailed off as you licked a slow, teasing line up the length of him, tasting him. You looked up, meeting his gaze as you took him into your mouth. His hazel eyes darkened as you started to move, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, teasing the sensitive underside before taking him deeper. Stop being so nice, you wanted to say to him.

“Fuck,” Joel hissed, his head falling back as you set a steady rhythm, your hot mouth working him over with a practised ease that had him groaning, his hips jerking up involuntarily. You loved the way he responded to you, the way his body betrayed the control he tried so hard to maintain, the way he was falling apart under your touch.

You took your time. You wanted him to feel good. The soft clink of his belt was a monotonous beat to your movements. Joel’s fingers clung onto your hair, sending pleasant tingles to your scalp, his grip tightening as you increased the pace, taking him deeper, feeling him grow harder in your mouth. His moans filled the room, his voice a low, desperate sound that made you so wet. You could feel him getting close, his body trembling as he fought to hold back. “Shit,” he gasped, trying to pull back, but you didn’t let him. You wanted to give this to him, to let him lose himself in the pleasure, to show him that with you, he didn’t have to be in control all the time.

He was big, bigger than you were used to. Your eyes stung, tears blurring your vision as you fought to take him deeper, every inch of him filling your mouth so well. It was intense, and the mess only made it better— you could feel the sloppy trail of your saliva running down his shaft, gathering around your fingers as they gripped what your mouth couldn’t take, desperate to keep up with the size and the pace.

A mixture of your spit and his precum pooled at his base, slick and messy, dripping down onto his jeans. You think he liked seeing you like this, eyes watering, lips stretched around him, struggling to take all of him in. The way his cock throbbed told you as much, each twitch between your lips as you hollowed your cheeks, his size pressing against the back of your throat.

“Yeah, filthy little mouth... takin’ it all like that,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

And there it was.You knew he couldn’t be a gentleman with you all the time.

Your jaw ached, your throat tightened, and you could feel your body rebelling, but the thrill of it kept you going, pushing you to take more, to make him feel every desperate, hungry inch of your mouth. You took him as far as your body would allow until you were gagging and forced to draw back, spluttering for air.

His cock glistened, throbbing in your hand as you stroked him slowly, dragging out every second of his pleasure.

“Christ... you are a filthy thing, aren’t ya,” he rasped, his accent thick as the words rolled off his tongue. 

The way he looked at you like you were the most depraved, beautiful sight he’d ever seen sent a wave of heat straight to your aching pussy. Fuck he was so handsome. You could feel yourself dripping, your own arousal pooling between your legs, soaking through the fabric of your panties, desperate for any sort of relief.

You smiled up at him, lips still wet and swollen from where you’d had him, your eyes gleaming. 

The way you looked—sweet, sinful, shameless— made something flash in his eyes and his cock twitch in your hand.

“Don’t go lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered, voice low and rough, the warning in his tone almost lost in the sheer need coursing through him. But you didn’t back down, didn’t look away, just smiled wider, eyes locked on his, waiting to see how far he’d let you push him before he broke.

“What, you like suckin’ cock or somethin'?” 

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, licking your lips as you held his gaze, your hand still lazily stroking his length.

“Only yours,” you whispered, your voice husky as your thumb swirled around the tip of his cock again, collecting more of that wetness. You leaned in, letting your breath ghost over him, close enough that he could feel the heat of your mouth, but just out of reach, playing with him, making him wait for it.

The low groan that rumbled from his chest told you everything. His grip in your hair tightened, that roughness in him rising up again.

“Only mine,” he laughed, half under his breath, letting his head fall back against the bed. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, hips jerking forward, pushing his cock closer to your waiting lips, telling you he didn’t want you to stop. Not now. Not ever.

Your lips parted, and you took him in again, slow and deep, letting him feel just how much you wanted him. Your hands gripped his thighs, fingers digging into the hard muscle, anchoring yourself as you moved faster.

His hips moved with you now, fucking your mouth with deep thrusts, each one bringing him closer to that sweet release you both craved.

You could feel him losing it, his body taut, every muscle straining as his cock pulsed harder against your tongue. He was close—so fucking close.

You stood up and hiked up your dress, the fabric bunching at your hips as you climbed on top of him. Your knees sank into the mattress on either side of his broad body. He barely had time to catch his breath before your hands were on his chest, and you were grinding down against him, your soaked panties brushing against the hard length of him.

Joel’s eyes widened just a fraction, that flicker of surprise quickly replaced by raw need as he felt your heat. His hands instinctively came up to grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh, urging you on. You didn’t waste any time—your hand slipped between your legs, pulling your panties to the side, exposing yourself to him, wet and ready.

You lined him up, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance, teasing, torturing him for a moment before you sank down onto him in one quick motion. The stretch was immediate and intense as he filled you completely, every thick inch of him sliding deep inside you. Your breath hitched, a low moan escaping your lips as your walls clenched around him, taking him in until there was nothing left to take.

“Goddamn, honey,” Joel groaned, voice strained as he felt you squeeze him. His head tipped back, jaw clenched. 

You didn’t give yourself a chance to adjust—you started moving, rolling your hips, grinding down on him, taking him deeper with each thrust. You braced your hands on his chest, fucking him harder, faster with everything you had. His cock pulsed inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every movement, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You moaned, head falling back as you lost yourself in the feeling of him inside you.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel rasped, a hand bunching your dress, his other gripping your ass now, pulling you down harder onto him, guiding you, urging you to take it harder. His hips bucked up to meet your movements, fucking into you from below.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” you whispered, voice low, teasing, grinding your hips against him slowly, making sure he felt every needy inch of you, how wet you were for him. “You love being deep inside my pussy, Joel… don’t pretend otherwise.”

He groaned, fingers digging into your hips, his breath coming out ragged, but he couldn’t muster a response.

“You like watching me take it all, don’t you?” you continued, leaning down so your lips hovered just above his, your breath hot against his skin. “Seeing how fucking desperate I am for your cock. You feel that?”

A deep growl rumbled in his chest. “Fuck… I feel it,” he strained, “Keep talkin' like that and I ain’t gonna last, darlin’.”

You smiled wickedly, rolling your hips in that slow, teasing rhythm, feeling every inch of him stretch you, fill you up in a way that made your whole body tremble. The heat between your thighs was intense, a clawing, pulsing ache that begged for more. You moaned, the sound low and breathless, your hands gripping his chest for balance as you rocked your hips again, the friction of your clit rubbing against the roughen hair at the base of his cock, sending shocks of pure bliss through your whole body.

“God, you feel so fucking good inside me, Joel,” you moaned. Every movement had you teetering on the edge, the way his cock brushed against that spot deep inside that made your legs shake. 

“Oh, fuck!” Your voice broke, shaking as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving you trembling and breathless. Your hands clung to his chest and flannel for support as you rode out the aftershocks, your thighs quivering around him, your release coating his cock as you ground down on him, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure.

Joel groaned, clearly on the edge himself, his cock throbbing as you tightened around him, making it harder for him to hold on. His breath came in ragged bursts.

“Shit—gotta pull out,” he growled, pulling out his cock.

His grip tightened as he lifted you just enough, sliding out of you, his cock twitching desperately. The sudden emptiness left you still aching with need, but you watched as he grabbed himself, stroking fast, desperate, along his thick shaft.

He moaned, deep and guttural, as he came hard, hot ropes of cum spilling across his hairy stomach. His chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven breaths as the last of his release dripped from the head of his cock on to the mess he’d made of himself.

“See, wasn’t so bad, was it, Joel?” you teased, your voice full of satisfaction.

“Don’t push your luck,” he grumbled.

divider credit to @saradika-graphics

[bactrimdmfg]

Eclectic Bedroom

[leahsgf]

THE BIG BED – leah williamson

leah williamson x child!reader

you were beyond restless and had been for the past few days - struggling to settle regardless of how exhausted you were, and it was showing.

only a few hours, which felt like minutes after leah had put you down to bed, you awoke, fussing and crying out for her, which alone was a signal of how out of character you were being, not usually being a massive cryer.

“mama” you whined as she entered your bedroom, throwing your arms in the air and sitting up the best you could in your sleep sack, wanting her to pick you up.

“i’m here my girl, what’s the matter hm?” she scooped you up out of your crib - which any day now would be being transitioned into a toddler ‘big girl’ bed (when you actually slept) and bounced you slightly on her hip, yawning as she ruffled your tufts of hair.

“big bed” you mumbled, a mirror image of your mother’s signature frown splayed across your tiny features.

in any other circumstance, and if she wasn’t so tired herself - leah would’ve chuckled. you hadn’t mastered many words just yet, but of course your beloved ‘big bed’, which was really just her bed, was one of them.

you were her baby through and through, wanting nothing more than to be close to her at all times - something that she usually adored, but you had gradually stopped sleeping unless she was there, which meant she wasn’t sleeping, and the collective exhaustion was really hitting the both of you.

her own mother had always warned her to steer clear of letting you in the bed with her, telling her to let you essentially cry it out - claiming that you’d eventually have no other choice but to fall asleep. leah took almost all of her mum’s advice, but this was one that she struggled to get on board with.

“but your bed is so comfy!” she encouraged you gently, voice no more than a whisper - ignoring the image of your auntie keira laughing at her for her word choice in her head and slipping a dummy into your mouth in a last ditch attempt to settle you in your room.

you began to tear up almost instantly, knowing this routine too well by now, and that you were about to be placed back into your bed and left.

“no wanna s’eep with you, please” you blubbered, words almost entirely muffled by your dummy.

and at that, leah’s heart melted - her boundaries that weren’t really there in the first place cracking. you were still a baby, her baby, and she was prepared to do just about anything to get you both a good night’s sleep. she could handle her mum’s inevitable questions.

“it’s okay, bubba. come on then, i’m not going anywhere, let’s go to bed. you can come sleep with mama” she cooed, relenting. anyone who knew leah as a player wouldn’t believe how unbelievably soft she truly was. she herself from a few years ago wouldn’t of believed it either - but you brought a new, completely overwhelming but beautiful kind of love into her life, and changed her.

when she had said that the euros were her proudest achievement and always would be until she had children, she had meant it.

having you cleared every other moment in her life, even when you refused to sleep.

and as she padded back across the hallway to her own bedroom, for the first time in what felt like weeks, you settled, completely.

she tucked the pair of you underneath the duvet, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into her chest, soothing you even further with the touch of her bare skin.

“time to go to sleep now sweetheart, kay? its bedtime.” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your head as her fingers danced across your back, drawing little shapes and sending you off into a long awaited slumber - her touch working like magic.

and after shooting a text off to lia, celebrating the fact that you’d finally gone to sleep, leah allowed herself to drift off, cherishing both the closeness with you and the incoming well deserved and needed sleep.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎModern Americana౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: nudity pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: billy time travels into the present author’s note: based on our chitchats as of late! I hope you like <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The crash sounded like it came from your backyard.

You looked up from your laptop, eyes darting to the window. Could the raccoons be back? They'd been terrorizing your garden for about a month now, and you'd just about had enough of it. The noise, not the raccoons. They were feral, but every time you looked out and saw their adorable little faces your heart melted a little bit.

Standing up and stretching, you made a mental note to call your grandfather in the morning. He owned the property you were staying on, and he'd be able to sort things out with the little creatures. But for now, you padded over to your window, tugging at the hem of your tank top. You wanted to see them at first, maybe catch a glimpse of their cute fluffy ringed tails before they darted into the night.

When you flipped on the porch light, there was nothing to be found. No masked wildlife, not even a tuft of fur. You frowned, tilting your head. Maybe it was something from one of your neighbor's yards? But it had sounded so close to you-

There it was again. That clatter, like someone had been thrown against the wall. You snatched the baseball bat leaning on the side of the porch railing, holding it at the ready as you leaned over, trying to see into the dark. The glow of the lights didn't extend to the side of the house, but you tensed when you saw something moving.

Crouched and leaning against the wall, the shadow was shifting, like it was looking around. You gripped the bat in one hand, your phone in the other. The police were only a dial away.

"Hello?" you called tentatively, not daring to leave the safety of the porch. Besides, you'd forgotten shoes, and the grass was probably cold. "Is someone there?"

"¿Quien es?" The voice was quiet, but you still jumped back. So it was a person. You hadn't heard the telltale creak of the fence swinging open. How had they gotten in, you had no idea. You still didn't lower your weapon. This was how serial killers got people after all. By acting weak and innocent. While you were sympathetic, you weren't stupid.

"Come out." The two words were spoken with more confidence than you knew yourself capable of. You weren't sure if whoever it was would even understand what you were saying. Trying again, you repeated their words. "¿Quien es?" Who's there?

The shadow rustled. You lowered your phone. "I'm not going to do anything," you risked, craning your neck and squinting. "Just come into the light. Are you hurt?"

When the figure began to move, straightening and standing up, you gripped the bat with both hands. They could be armed, and you could at least bonk them over the head from your elevated position on the porch.

The dry grass rustled as they moved forward, shadow looming a few feet ahead. You couldn't tear your eyes away as a tall man made his appearance, hat shading his eyes.

His clothes were the first thing you noticed. Dusty and faded, indicating years of use. From the style of his shirt to his boots, he looked like a Western cowboy. Was it a costume of some kind?

You held the bat firmly. "Who are you?"

The man held up his hands, tilting his head to upwards to meet your eyes. "Billy."

"Billy," you repeated, still holding the bat up. "Why are you dressed like a cowboy? Why-" you gestured to his belt. "Is that real? The gun?"

He looked taken aback, maybe even a little offended. "'course it's real."

Caught off guard, you tried to shake it off. "Okay, just checking." You gripped the bat tighter. "What are you doing in my yard?"

Billy was determinedly meeting your eyes, averting them from wandering any lower than your collarbone. "I don't know how I got here."

"Are you drunk or something?" He didn't seem like he was under the influence. Now that he was looking at you, you could see how blue his eyes were. And they didn't have that hazy look like he'd taken something.

"No, I..." Billy dropped his hands, taking off his hat on the way down. His brown curls were messy, flattened almost. The sight sent a twinge into your heart. He looked so...vulnerable. Helpless almost. "I was comin' downstairs an'...an' I heard someone. Then I blacked out and now I'm here." His hat moved between his hands as he twisted it, seeming nervous.

You knew liars, especially male ones. They permeated your life, crawling up and down the lengths of it and sometimes nesting there. Over the years you had learned their telltale signs. The shifty eyes, the tone that was ever so slightly off. Your knowledge on this subject was all engraved into your body as if a part of your genetic code.

Which is how you knew Billy was telling the truth.

Exhaling softly, you set the bat down, moving down to the porch steps, closer to him. He was standing in front of you, hands at his sides now, gun belt low on his hips. You were puzzled by it. Why did he need to have a gun so close? Was that even legal?

Sitting on the porch steps, you patted the spot next to you. He hesitated, but took it, eyes trained on the ground. You watched him for a minute. Heavy accent, strange clothes. Resting your elbows on his knees, you gestured to his body. "Is this a bet or something?"

"No." Again, he seemed mildly offended. You sucked in your cheeks, looking at the ground.

He spoke after a brief moment of listening to the sounds of the neighbors, from their cars to their doors shutting. "Y'know, if you've gotta horse, I can be out'f your hair by morning."

"A horse?" you raised your eyebrows.

He half-smiled. "Don't know a better way to get around."

You started to laugh until you realized he was serious. Furrowing your brow, you stared at him for a second, an idea forming in your head.

No. It sounded impossible, but you really weren't sure. All the signs were pointing to it. Almost like the roots of a tree grown from a strange kind of seed, realization sprouted into your mind. Turning your gaze back to Billy, the question fell from your lips before you could figure out a graceful way to ask. "What year do you think it is?"

He raised his eyebrows as if it were obvious. "1881."

Oh.

The way he said it so effortlessly, his direct eye contact, the little nod as if he were trying to convince you of something. A cold feeling ran over you like water, and you put it together before you fully realized. Your eyes lingered over the leather suspenders holding his pants up, and the old-fashioned handle of the gun sticking out of his belt.

Your heart told you that you weren't delusional. It was real.

Exhaling softly, you met Billy's gaze. If you hadn't already decided what to do, the bright blue you were looking into would have done it for you.

"Hold still." You reached for the buttons of Billy's shirt and he immediately stepped back.

The crease in his brow was almost adorable. "What are you doing?"

You raised your eyebrows. "You can't take a shower with your clothes on."

He shuffled on his feet, looking down. "Do I hafta?"

"Billy you look like you've been sleeping buried underground," you said, exasperatedly. He pursed his lips and you folded your arms. "You'll feel better when you're cleaner."

Lifting his eyes to the shower behind you, you saw a world of confusion in them. "It looks like it's gonna hurt me."

"It won't," you promised, reaching for his collar and tugging on it. "I use it every day. Now could you please take your clothes off?"

Frozen for a second, you wondered if he would actually do it. It'd been a miracle you'd been able to convince him to remove his boots and leave his gun belt at the door. His hat was sitting on your kitchen counter. And you were well aware that standards had morphed over the last centuries into something nearly unrecognizable, but it hardly mattered now.

Maybe you should have been more concerned about finding a cowboy in your backyard. After all, he'd appeared out of literally nowhere, looking and talking like he was from a different time.

But he didn't at all seem dangerous. Just...lost. And so here you were, standing with him in your bathroom and trying to get him to undress.

Billy looked away, refusing to meet your eyes. The lighting of the bathroom only made it apparent how dirty he really was. You could see dirt dusting his face, sprinkled at his collar. If you wrung out his clothes you were sure the water would turn brown. "I...fine. How d'ya work this thing again?"

You smiled, turning around to demonstrate. "Turn it on like this-" the shower water hissed as you twisted the handle. "And you can adjust the water to be hot or cold." Leaving the shower on, you looked back at him. "I'll leave you alone. Yell if you need anything."

It took a lot not to laugh at his relieved expression when you said you would give him some privacy. But you kept a straight face, hoping you seemed reassuring. "I'll get some clothes for you, okay? And wash these after you're done." You tugged on his collar once again, and the side of his mouth twitched up.

The shirt and sweatpants you fetched used to be your ex's, but he never came back for them after the breakup. You were happy to have a reason to use them now, instead of being haunted by their presence in one of your drawers. Slipping into the bathroom, you set them on the closed toilet seat, where you knew Billy would see them.

As you bent down to retrieve his old clothes, a thud echoed from behind the shower curtain. You gasped, standing up. "Billy?"

For a moment you only heard the steady flow of the water. Then, "I fell."

"Oh-" you automatically moved to the shower but hesitated. "Do you need help?"

A pause. "Which soap do I use again?"

"Let me just-" you pushed aside the shower curtain to reveal a wide-eyed Billy. His mouth opened and he started to shake his head, but you cut him off before he could speak. "I'm not gonna look at you. Just let me help."

He stared at you, hair sticking to his forehead in curls. You did your best to resist following the path of the water trickling down his chest. His hands were occupied, covering a certain area between his legs.

You lifted one leg at a time, stepping into the tub. It was rare that you actually used the second half of the double-function shower, but sometimes you daydreamed about the option. Billy stared as you stepped under the spray with him, still in your shorts and tank top.

When he realized what he was doing, he averted his eyes. "Sorry-"

"No, it's okay," you said gently, reaching for his elbow. "Could you sit down? I can't reach you from here."

He followed your lead, bending his long legs so his back was against the wall. You reached for the bottles of soap, ignoring how strange it felt for your clothes to stick to your skin this way. Pushing a string of wet hair behind your ear, you flipped the shampoo bottle upside down and squeezed a little into your hand.

Billy shifted to the side, back facing you so you could reach him easier. You uttered a quiet thank you before sinking your fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp gently. His body was perfectly still, but he tilted his head back just slightly. You smiled when his shoulders untensed, and he murmured a soft "Thank you."

Repeating your motions with the conditioner, you nodded at the third bottle beside it. "Use that one to wash your body. Everywhere."

"Doesn't the water do that?"

"Billy-" you smiled, tilting his head back to wash the soap out. "When you get out, I've got clothes for you on the counter. I can wash your old ones."

"Thank you," he said, turning his head over his shoulder briefly. Billy bit the side of your cheek, then asked, "What year is it again?"

"Twenty-twenty-four," you said, smoothing his hair. "Pretty far in the future."

He swallowed, giving a single nod. "I have a lot of questions."

"That's okay," you said, squeezing his shoulder. "Just finish up in here and you can ask me anything you want."

Billy faced forward again. "Alright."

You stared at his back for a moment, following the bumpy line of his spine. He was strong- you could see it in his back muscles. After he was done interrogating you, maybe you would ask something of your own. What had he done for a living? Did he know what brought him here?

Shaking it off, you got up, and he took your cue, doing the same. Turning around, Billy drew you into his eyes once again, and you tried not to gape at his chest. There was no doubt about how handsome he was. Pictures from the 1880s didn't do their men justice.

Looking into each others eyes, you felt something undeniable there. A pull that nearly brought you into his chest, a feeling that was far to strong for having just met him. And yet, you felt as though he was an old friend. Someone you were destined to know. It was nearly electric; hotter than the water pouring from the showerhead.

"I'll go," you said, tearing your eyes away and looking down. "Just twist the knob to the right when you're done. I'll be in the kitchen."

"Okay," he breathed, and you took that as your cue to step out. Pushing aside the curtain and wiping your feet on the rug, you took your brush and combed your hair out before exiting the bathroom promptly, scurrying to your bedroom to change into fresh pajamas.

Maybe ones that wouldn't cause your cowboy to look away.