#I'm s-curve and donut

[chrissv4mp]

make a movie with you that we'd have to hide , CHRIS S.

summary: you can't help but be obsessed with everything about your boyfriend, and one night, you ask him if you two could try something... different.

pairing: chris stuniolo × fem!reader

warnings: SUPER subby!chris, sorta shy!chris, pet names (ma, baby, love, good boy, baby boy, pretty boy, etc.), handjobs, p in v, unprotected sex, recording, begging, overstimulation, degradation, choking if you squint, name-calling (slut, etc.), just pure filth🤷‍♀️

a/n: chris......... these photo dumps have me screaming, i think i'm transitioning to a chris girl😖

"clothes on the counter for you, try 'em on. if i'm allowed, i'll help you take 'em off..." - LUNCH , billie e.

the door shut softly, and the next thing you heard were chris's footsteps coming down the hall.

his lips curved into a smile the second he caught sight of you, stretching his arms put before falling into your embrace on the couch.

"hi, baby," you muttered, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

chris exhaled, kissing your cheek, "hi,"

the brunette boy pulled away, staring deep into your eyes before smiling softly, "hi, ma."

he kissed your cheek before getting up, hanging his hoodie up behind the front door before going into the kitchen.

you sighed, moving the blanket off of you before following your boyfriend.

staring wasn't unusual between you two. he always looked so good, and chris had always said you looked gorgeous every second of the day.

but right now, he looked better than ever. his grey t-shirt was a bit small for him, so whenever he moved his arms it would ride up, exposing his v-line and some of his lower abdomen.

his jeans were bigger around his waist, causing them to fall a little lower. you weren't complaining, cause this was the best sight you've seen.

"y/n, baby, are you there?" you didn't even notice your boyfriends repeating your name until he snapped his fingers.

your eyes went back up to his in an instant, blood rushing to your cheeks at the fact that he might've seen you staring.

but chris wouldn't care, he knew what he was doing when he got ready this morning.

"sorry. i'm here, just zoned out." you laughed, walking closer to him and pulling him into a hug.

the boy chuckled, rubbing your back and giving your head a quick kiss before moving toward the fridge.

his eyes moved around the food inside before he spoke again, "should i cook? there's still that steak we bought on wednesday,"

he looked back at you, and you stared at his blue eyes just a little longer than usual before giving him a reply, "sure,"

"i mean, who's turning down professional chef, christopher sturniolo?" you joked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

chris giggled, looking back at the fridge before opening the freezer and grabbing out the packaging the steak was in.

"not even nick and matt can resist." chris smiled, grabbing the scissors to cut open the plastic.

you watched silently as chris carefully cut the packaging, eyes fixated on his hands and fingers that so delicately moved.

chris couldn't bear the silence, even if it was comfortable, "so, nick, matt, and i tried gummy food vs. regular food. shit was disgusting,"

he laughed, adding onto his topic, "also nick broke a glass, and almost the camera with a gummy donut."

you smirked, chuckling. your mind went blank for a few seconds before an idea popped into your mind.

chris was always vlogging with his brothers, and he loved to be the center of attention of everything they did.

if he liked the audience so much, then why not create a movie? a movie that was just for you and chris to see, make a movie that you two would have to hide.

"nick? seriously, out of the three of you, i would've never guessed him," you replied, the idea still lingering in your mind.

how would you even bring it up? it would be awkward, and chris might even think it's weird.

but he always told you to come to him whenever, so why were you so scared now?

"that was amazing, chris," you complimented, placing your hand on his thigh under the table.

he smiled, blushing slightly as he looked down, "thanks."

the brunette boy stood up, grabbing both of your plates and taking them to the sink. before he turned the water on, you grabbed his wrist.

"hey, i got it, go upstairs and take a shower. you've already done enough, 'kay?" you said just above a whisper, running your thumb over his palm.

he smiled softly, kissing your forehead before placing the dishes down in the sink, "you're the best. i love you, ma."

"love you, too, chris." you smiled, taking over his place at the sink as you listened to him walk up towards the stairs.

before he reached them, you called out, "i left you some clothes on the bathroom counter, too!"

he thanked you before continuing his way up to the bathroom.

rinsing off the plates and forks, you placed them on the drying rack before opening the dishwasher.

you grabbed the clean dishes from the dishwasher, putting them away in the cabinets before grabbing the dirty ones and placing them in.

as you finished, you decided to pass the time by going on your phone, lying back down on the couch before getting lost in the tiktoks on your for you page.

once you got bored, you went to instagram, going to the triplets' account and looking over their new friday photo dump.

chris was on the fourth slide alongside nick, and their friend, nate. his shirt was riding up his stomach and his boxers were showing just the slightest.

he smiled innocently, holding out the peace sign as his arm hung around nate's shoulder.

you crossed your legs, biting your lip as your eyes went over the picture again. he looked so good in it, but he also looked like he was so innocent.

fuck, you just wanted to ruin him for anyone else. you wanted to let everyone know that chris was yours.

if he allowed you tonight, you'd help him take off his clothes.

you remember picking out his red plaid pajama pants and a black wife-beater. he always looked good in that.

you decided to walk upstairs to your bedroom, it was too quiet downstairs and a bit too dark for your liking.

as you walked past the bathroom, you heard heavy breathing even over the sounds of water hitting the shower floor.

stopping right in front of the bathroom, you put your ear against the door. you gasped quietly as you heard chris moan. it was kind of high-pitched, and right after, he whimpered your name.

"fuck," you groaned quietly, deciding to just continue your walk to the bedroom.

something to tease him about later. so impatient, he couldn't even wait a few minutes longer to get off.

chris crawled onto the mattress, the edge of the bed dipping as he made his way over to you at the headboard.

his hair was still damp, water dripping off the ends every other minute.

"i missed you all day," he whispered, lying on your chest as he nestled his head into the crook of your neck.

your hands threaded into his hair, massaging his scalp as he lay comfortably.

"i missed you, too." you muttered, kissing his head.

his hands moved up your body, sneaking under the fabric of your shirt and continuing their way to your chest.

you sighed, feeling him toy with the fabric of your bra.

"missed all of you.." he mumbled, kissing your neck and occasionally nipping at it.

his touches weren't making the heat between your thighs any better. if anything, they just made you wetter.

you pulled on his hair softly, your grip tightening with every new mark he left on the soft skin of your neck.

"chris," you gasped, hands going down to his waist as you gripped it softly.

he whimpered at your motions, bucking his hips against yours and eliciting a groan from your throat.

a smirk came to your lips as you felt his dick bulging from underneath his pants and boxers, and the moment he stopped sucking your neck, you flipped him over on his back.

chris gasped silently, lips parted as he stared up at you with eyes full of lust.

"didn't you just get off, love?" you asked in a whisper, caressing his cheek and running your thumb over his bottom lip.

his face went red, turning his head to the side to try and hide.

you quickly grabbed his chin, turning his head back so that he could look straight at you.

"don't be so rude," you smiled, "can't you just answer my question? please?"

he sighed, biting his lip as he looked anywhere but your eyes. he hesitated before speaking, "yea- yes, mhm. i did, ma."

your hand went lower, traveling down his jawline and stopping at his neck. you wrapped your fingers around him, putting the slightest amount of pressure down.

"yeah? do you think you're better at getting yourself off than i am?" you teased, watching as his face contorted into a look of worry.

he shook his head frantically, and you applied more pressure to his neck for him to stop.

releasing your hand just a bit, you began again, "then why, hm?"

chris bucked his hips, his eyes rolling back as he whimpered out his answer, "was thinkin' 'bout you, fuck.. 'jus so pretty."

your frowned in fake sympathy, tilting your head a little to see his face better in the dimly-lit room.

humming, you looked around the room, eyes landing on the small digital camera chris had on his nightstand.

"hey, y'know what would make up for your mistake, baby boy?" you muttered, watching as chris's lips parted.

"what?" he whispered, finally making eye contact with you.

staying quiet, you got off him, walking around to his side of the bed and grabbing the camera.

chris sat up, eyes following your every movement as you went into your shared closet. he raised an eyebrow, clueless and confused.

when you came back to the bed, you put up his tripod, setting the camera onto it before adjusting the settings and placing it so that the camera was pointed toward the bed.

before chris could spill his thoughts, you spoke, "is this okay?"

he didn't even hesitate, nodding quickly. chris liked the idea of secret sex-tapes, ones that only you two would see.

he never told you many of his fantasies, keeping to himself every time because he would doubt you'd say yes to him.

before getting on the bed, you pressed the "record" button.

the side of the bed dipped as you crawled over to chris, pushing him to lay down again before trapping him in a heated kiss.

chris was already painfully hard, and the way you shifted around on his lap didn't make his case any better, gasps and whimpers being trapped between your two lips.

when he moaned, you slipped your tongue past his lips, exploring his mouth and running over his teeth as you groaned.

his hands went to your waist, holding you with possession as he guided your movements.

your free hand went lower, sneaking under his plaid pajamas and palming him through the soft fabric of his boxers.

chris couldn't reciprocate the kiss anymore within a few seconds, gasps, and whimpers falling from his mouth into yours.

"feels s'good," the brunette boy sighed, eyes staying shut even as you pulled away to trail kisses down his neck.

you could feel the damp spot of pre-cum on his boxers, and it made you impossibly wetter.

"so worked up," you muttered before sucking on his pulse point, hearing as chris begged in that whiny tone of his.

he wasn't even speaking coherently, blabbering out inaudible words as he gripped your waist tighter.

you left a hickey every time you went lower, leaving a trail of marks all the way to the neck of his wife-beater.

"need you, need you s'bad. please, please, ma." he groaned, eyelids fluttering open at the loss of stimulation on his clothed cock.

"be patient, i know you can." you crawled down his body, stopping right before the edge of the bed before tugging on his plaid pajama pants.

chris lifted his hips, helping you as your hands tugged the fabric down to his ankles.

before chris could beg again, you tugged his boxers down, revealing his dick that looked painfully hard.

"need you, mamas. need your hands, please, you're s'good," he whined, bucking his hips into nothing at the thought of your hands around him.

placing a hand on his hips, you stopped his movements.

he groaned out in annoyance before watching you spit in your hand and move it to his cock.

"shit," he gasped shakily, the feeling of your hand moving up and down his length making him shudder.

your thumb circled his tip, gathering the pre-cum from there and spreading it along his length.

your hand began to move faster, making chris moan even louder and buck his hips as best he could. it was all so overwhelming for him, and it was just the first round.

"god, baby, s'good to me." the brunette said in between moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his back arched slightly.

"better than your own hand?" you asked, and chris nodded quickly.

you laughed before crawling back up his body, capturing his lips in a kiss once again as you continued the movements with your hand.

chris was already so sensitive, making him more vocal and needy as he chased his high. he couldn't help it when you always looked so fucking gorgeous.

"g'nna cum, fuck, i'ma cum..!" the boy moaned against your lips, his thighs shaking as he continued bucking his hips.

your thumb circled his tip every time you stroked him, making those pretty whimpers fall from his red, puffy lips.

"c'mon, pretty boy, cum for me," you muttered in a seductive tone, and chris let out a low moan before doing just that.

gasps fell from his lips every second as he came down, your hand slowing down just a bit but not exactly stopping. not even when he came back.

he shook his head slowly, eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure that became more overwhelming as you pushed him past his second orgasm of the night.

"too much, baby, please," he didn't know what he was begging for, it felt so good but it also felt like it was too much.

hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat that formed there, and chris threw his head back into the pillows at your reassuring whispers.

"oh, but you wanted me so bad, pretty boy.." you kissed his jawline softly, whispering close to his ear, "you can take it."

"no, no.. can't," he whined, lips growing redder from how hard he bit them.

you rolled your eyes teasingly, the pace of your hand speeding up as you spoke, "you were acting like such a slut earlier, made it seem like you could take more than one,"

he groaned at your words, his resolve fading as he gave into you. his chest rose and fell rapidly, breathing heavy as he tried to keep eye contact with you.

"good boy, always so good," you praised, cupping his cheek with your free hand.

tears swelled in chris's eyes from the overstimulation, quiet sobs slipping from his lips from the pleasure.

it didn't long for chris to cum again, his thighs shaking as he whined loudly.

"see, you're so amazing, baby boy," you cooed, getting off the bed to strip yourself of your own clothes.

chris just stared, scooting up to sit against the headboard and sighing as he stared at every inch of your body.

"so pretty, fuck," he muttered, his dick getting hard just at the sight of your body.

he never knew someone would ever have this effect on him.

you crawled back on the bed, standing on your knees and lining chris's cock up with your entrance.

chris didn't have time to process what you were doing before you sunk down on his cock fully, making him moan out.

"one more for me?" you muttered, pecking his lips before beginning to roll your hips.

it didn't take long for chris to help you bounce on his dick, making it all the more pleasurable as you rode him.

the sounds of skin against skin filled the room along with both of your moans mixing together.

your hands tugged at his hair, making chris whine louder as he bucked his hips frantically into your pussy.

"oh my god..!" chris squirmed beneath you, nails digging into the exposes skin of your waist as he stared up at you.

your mouth hung open, gasps and moans falling out as you continued to ride him, picking up your pace.

"c'mon, baby, one more.." you muttered, eyes fixated on your boyfriends face.

chris cried out as he reached the edge, holding it as he stuttered out something, "need t'cum, please lemme cum, ma!"

you nodded, and a few seconds after chris came undone, so did you.

the brunette boy let out quiet whimpers as he came down once again, his grip on your waist loosening.

"fuck," you whispered, getting off of chris and sitting beside him.

he looked over at you, kissing your cheek with a smile, his eyes droopy from how tired he was.

"i love you," he whispered, resting his head on your bare shoulder.

"i love you, too." you replied, tilting your head to rest on his.

. . . . . . . .

tags: @starsturns234 @joemamaaa42069 @sturniolohisteric @whosthislyssbitch @sturniclo

[monamedeiros12]

All Roads Lead to Texas: Where it Ends…

FINAL PART OF ALL ROAD LEAD TO TEXAS!!

Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: Goodbyes are never easy — but when the road runs out and you both find yourselves doing everything to make it last just a little longer, you realize this one might be impossible.

Warnings: age gap (reader is 26, Joel is in his 40's), SMUT - MDNI 18+, swearing, flirting, pet names, pinv, unprotected sex.

Words: 6k

A/N: guuuuys the last part is finally out!!!!!! This was supposed to be a one-shot, but I got SO ATTACHED to this characters that I was feeling like “ugh I wish this had ten chapters”. I’m sad is over, but I absolutely loved writing this. And I hope you guys enjoyed too. Your feedback is so important to me, so please let me know what you think about the series!!!!

Epilogue??????? 👀👀

part two - series masterlist - full masterlist

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The first thing you feel is Joel’s body, pressed against yours. At some point during the night, the two of you must’ve shifted, because now you’re facing him, your face tucked into the curve of his neck.

He smells like sleep, skin, and something that’s unmistakably him — and you already know it’s a scent that’ll stick with you long after this is over.

When this is over...

You don’t want to think about that part. Don’t want to think about how quickly you connected with someone who was a total stranger just yesterday.

Don’t want to think about the way he makes you feel. And you definitely don’t want to think about never seeing him again.

You stay like that for a few more seconds — just breathing him in, listening to the steady rise and fall of his chest — until his voice cuts through the silence.

"You starin’ at me, or just usin’ me as your personal pillow?" he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, rough around the edges.

You feel his hand slide to the small of your back, lazy and warm.

"Don't answer that," he adds, eyes still closed. "Just... stay right there a little longer."

"I’m not going anywhere," you reply, voice heavy with sleep. "And yeah, you make a pretty good pillow. A little hairy, maybe… but warm enough."

Joel’s laughter vibrates through your whole body, and you can’t hold back your smile.

"Hairy, huh? I can get up if I’m botherin’ you."

His voice is all mock-offense, but there’s a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Don’t even think about it," you mutter, wrapping an arm tighter around him.

You stay like that for a while — tangled up in warmth and quiet, the world outside the window forgotten. No rush. No plans. Just the steady rhythm of his breathing, the weight of his arm around you, and the soft hum of something that feels dangerously close to comfort.

But eventually, the ache in your stomach breaks the spell.

"I'm hungry," you mumble against his chest.

Joel lets out a low chuckle, hand trailing lazily up and down your back.

"Yeah? Thought I wore you out enough last night."

You lift your head just enough to give him a flat look. "You did. That’s why I’m hungry."

He grins at that — full-on this time — and it does something to your chest, seeing that expression on him. Like you unlocked some hidden version of him no one else gets to see.

"Alright," he says, stretching beneath you with a groan. "Lemme go check if this place has breakfast. Don’t get your hopes up, though."

You stay in bed, sprawled out in his shirt, while he pulls on his clothes and heads out to the front desk.

Five minutes later, he’s back — and the look on his face tells you everything.

"No breakfast," he says flatly. "Just a sad little coffee pot and a guy who looked like he hadn't slept in three days."

You groan into the pillow. "So we starve?"

He smirks. "Nope. Gimme ten minutes."

—

You're sitting on the open tailgate of Joel’s truck, sunlight warming your legs, the scent of cheap baked goods and fresh coffee filling the air. Between the two of you: a convenience store breakfast feast — gas station donuts, pre-wrapped breakfast sandwiches, two cups of coffee, a suspiciously neon-colored fruit juice, and way too many snack cakes.

You unwrap a sandwich and glance at him. "This is either the saddest or the best breakfast I’ve ever had. Not sure yet."

Joel takes a bite of his donut, crumbs catching in his beard. "Best. No question."

You laugh, and the sound feels easy — natural, like it belongs here, on this random morning in the middle of nowhere.

You take a sip of the coffee — it's terrible, of course — but the way Joel’s watching you over the rim of his cup makes it go down easier.

"So," you start, tone casual, but your eyes flick to his mouth before you look back at the sandwich in your hands, "is a good fuck in a shitty motel included in your standard tour package, or did I get the deluxe treatment?"

Joel almost chokes on his donut.

He coughs once, clears his throat, then gives you a long, amused look. "Jesus."

You just raise an eyebrow at him, all fake innocence. "What? I’m just making conversation."

He leans back against the truck, one arm resting behind you on the tailgate. "That what we’re callin’ it now?"

You grin, biting into your sandwich like you didn’t just set his morning on fire. "Well, I was impressed. Didn’t think a guy with that many gray hairs still had moves like that."

Joel huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "You’re lucky I like you, y’know that?"

"Oh, I know," you say, flashing him a wicked smile. "I’m unforgettable."

He looks at you then — really looks.

And for a second, everything stills.

There’s something in his eyes, something quiet and heavy that settles deep in your chest. You know that look. You feel it.

You don’t need him to say it out loud. He won’t.

But it’s written all over his face.

Instead, he leans in slightly and murmurs, smirk tugging at his lips:

"Don’t let it go to your head."

You clear your throat, trying to shake off the way he just looked at you.

"Alright," you say, reaching for your coffee. "Tell me more about those vinyls you mentioned."

Joel glances at you, a little curious.

"What about ‘em?"

You shrug. "I don’t know. You just… mentioned it real quick the other day. But I keep picturing it. You — in some little record shop, flipping through stacks of old albums like it's the most important thing in the world."

He huffs a quiet laugh and leans back against the truck bed, his eyes squinting at the morning light.

"That’s ‘cause it kinda is," he says.

You blink, surprised by the honesty in his tone. He runs a hand through his hair before continuing.

"There’s just... somethin’ about it. The weight of the records, the sound they make when you slide ‘em out the sleeve. That little crackle before the music starts."

He pauses, eyes far away now.

"I like the hunt, too. Diggin’ through bins, not knowin’ what you’ll find. Nothin’s instant. You gotta look, take your time. Feels different from clickin’ a button on a screen, you know?"

You nod, quiet. Something about the way he says it — soft, steady, like this is one of the only things in the world he lets himself slow down for — makes your chest ache a little.

"Sounds kinda romantic," you say, voice low.

Joel gives a crooked smile, keeping his eyes on the horizon.

"Yeah, well. Don’t go tellin’ people that. Gotta protect my rugged image."

You laugh, nudging him with your knee.

"Too late. I’m already picturing you in a dusty little record store, being all picky and serious about sleeve conditions."

He grins, shaking his head.

"Damn. You got me figured out, huh?"

You smile at him and nod.

A beat of quiet settles in — warm and easy. The kind that makes you want to stay just a little longer.

But eventually, Joel exhales and stretches his back with a soft groan.

"Alright," he says. "We should probably grab our stuff. Got a long drive ahead."

"Yeah," you reply, a little slower, not quite ready to move.

Still, you both stand, brushing crumbs off your clothes. He takes your empty cup without a word and tosses it in the trash nearby, then falls into step beside you as you walk back toward the motel.

You glance at him as the morning sun hits his profile — sharp and golden — and something twists, low and quiet in your chest.

The hallway feels quieter this time.

You don’t talk much as you head back into the room — just exchange a few small looks, a smirk from him when he grabs your duffel bag like it weighs nothing, your quiet thanks when your fingers brush.

He holds the door open for you on the way out, and you glance over at him, trying to read something in the way his mouth is set, how his eyes squint against the morning sun.

By the time you reach the truck, he tosses the bags in the back with that same no-nonsense ease. You climb into the passenger seat and let the door shut behind you with a soft click.

And just like that, you feel it.

That shift.

Like something’s closing in.

Not quite an ending, but close enough to sting.

You stare out the window, jaw tight, heart a little heavier than before.

Two days. That’s all it was ever gonna be. But hell, why does it suddenly feel like not enough?

Joel slides into the driver’s seat and turns the key. The engine rumbles to life.

He glances over, mouth pulling into a lazy half-smile.

"Ready?"

You manage one back.

"As I’ll ever be."

————————————————————————

A few minutes pass. You’re watching the world outside when Joel’s movement catches your attention — he’s struggling to find the perfect music while driving, making you smile. You watch him as he tries to focus on the road and the radio at the same time, his brow furrowed in concentration. After a few seconds, he notices you looking at him.

“What’s up?” he asks, still scrolling through the stations.

“Nothing,” you reply with a smile.

“You’ve been really quiet. Is everything okay?”

That actually makes you laugh.

“Wow, guess you’re already used to me talking non-stop, huh?” You lean back, crossing your arms with a playful grin. “Well, I figured since you’re so good at finding the perfect song, I’d give you some quiet to focus.”

Joel smirks, turning up the volume just a little.

“Smooth move, sweetheart.”

You would never get tired of that word coming out of his mouth with that thick accent.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say suddenly, turning a little toward him.

“Shoot,” Joel answers without hesitation.

“Do you ever think about what your life would be like if things had gone differently?”

Joel stays quiet for a moment, thinking about his answer. You can see his brain working to give you the best one, and that’s something you adore about him. He listens, and he always cares about his answers. He’s not afraid to let a piece of his soul escape while talking — just like when he was telling you about Sarah.

“I think I used to think more about that when Sarah was little. When I was struggling to raise her by myself. When it wasn’t easy to pay all the bills. In those moments, I thought a lot about how life could be if things were different,” he says, eyes focused on the road. “But those thoughts were more common a few years ago. Now, when I look at what I have, I’m very grateful. Of course, that’s not how I feel one hundred percent of the time, but at least, that’s how I feel most of of it.”

He glances at you, sees you listening closely. “What about you?”

You let the silence stretch for a beat, the hum of the road filling the space between you. Then you exhale slowly.

“There was a time I almost moved to London,” you say, your voice quieter now. “I had this internship lined up — one of those once-in-a-lifetime things, you know? A chance to actually work with a real photography studio. It scared the hell out of me, but I wanted it.”

You pause, your gaze fixed somewhere beyond the windshield.

“But then my mom got sick. Cancer" you stop talking for a beat, remembering those scary and difficult times. A lump forming in your throat. "And I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t imagine being hours away when she might need help getting out of bed, or eating.”

Joel doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him listening. Really listening.

“So I stayed. I passed on the internship. Got a job close to home. Said I’d try again later, when things settled. But they never really did. And the longer I waited, the harder it was to believe I still had it in me.”

You glance at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips — sad, but honest.

“Sometimes I think that version of me — the one who took the leap — only exists in some parallel timeline. When my mom got better, things happened fast, and when I moved away, it was to live in California, working in a job I didn’t like, and before I knew it, years had gone by, doing the same thing. At least it gave me financial stability — something I’m really grateful for. And I don’t regret, not even for a second, staying to take care of my mom.”

Joel takes a moment before answering, but when he does, you know it’s something you’ll never forget.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” he says, voice low and steady. “And it’s not just because I got attached to you after only a few hours together — I really mean this.”

“You can’t put that kind of weight on yourself. What happened in your life… it’s something that happens to a lot of people. It happened to me, too — being stuck, not really knowing what the hell to do next.”

He glances at you, eyes soft but sure. “You gave up everything to take care of someone you love. That’s not small. That’s a damn good reason. And I mean it when I say — I think eventually, things are gonna fall into place for you. You just need a little more courage. And maybe… everything that’s happening right now? Maybe it’s the push you needed.”

You watch him for a while, letting his words settle.

It’s not like he’s saying anything you haven’t heard before — but there’s something in the way he says it, in the words he chooses, that makes you believe him. Makes you really hear him.

It fills your chest with something you can’t quite name. And before you can stop yourself, you confess:

“You know, I think this trip — you — might be the first thing that’s made me feel like myself in a long time.” Your eyes flick to his profile, heart pounding a little. “I think… I’m really glad the universe — or whatever the hell it was — decided to throw us in the same direction for a while.”

That catches Joel off guard.

And before you can even react, he pulls you a little closer, one firm hand on your thigh, and says:

“You make it real easy to forget how short this trip is.”

His thumb brushes gently against your leg, almost absentmindedly.

“I didn’t know I needed this — any of this — until you showed up.”

He glances at you briefly, then looks back at the road, like he’s afraid if he stares too long he’ll give too much away.

“And I know it hasn’t been long, but… I like having you around. More than I probably should.”

You smile softly, your eyes on the road but your thoughts on him.

“I guess… some company makes even the longest drives feel shorter.” You pause, then add quietly, “I’m glad you’re here.”

There’s no need for more words — the quiet between you holds everything you both feel but don’t say.

————————————————————————

The trip goes on, the hours slipping by like a slow, familiar song. The road stretches ahead, and inside the car, a quiet rhythm settles between you.

Music plays softly on the radio — a mix of old tunes and new favorites — filling the space without ever demanding attention. You talk about everything and nothing, conversations flowing easy, like a thread weaving you closer together.

Random questions come up. Silly ones. Deep ones. Joel’s voice is low and steady, sometimes teasing, sometimes thoughtful. You catch yourself laughing, sometimes rolling your eyes, but mostly just listening. This back-and-forth, this easy company, has become your usual — something that feels good, familiar.

All the while, Joel’s hand remains firm on your thigh. It’s a quiet pressure, a steady reminder of the tension under the surface. You weren’t lying when you said it was hard not to notice his hands — big, warm, calloused — thick fingers flexing lightly, veins pulsing with every small movement.

You weren’t lying when you said it was hard not to notice his hands. His thick fingers, the way the veins on his forearm pulse subtly when he moves — it’s a quiet kind of power, raw and unspoken.

And after a while, the only thing running through your mind was how those hands would feel inside you.

Joel keeps his eyes on the road — or at least pretends to. But he notices the way your gaze is locked on your own leg.

So he starts rubbing slow, deliberate circles with his thumb.

Your skin burns under his touch.

The motherfucker knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Joel,” you say, your tone making it clear — I see what you're doing.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he answers, all fake innocence, like he doesn’t have a clue.

You shoot him a look, one eyebrow raised.

“Are you teasing me?” you ask, voice low, still focused on his hand.

“Me?” he says, feigning shock like a goddamn soap opera star. “Not at all.”

But his hand slides higher — dangerously close to where you want him.

“Why would you say that?”

You narrow your eyes, breath quickening as his thumb begins drawing slow, maddening circles on your skin.

Every movement calculated. Controlled.

He watches you squirm — not even pretending to hide his amusement.

“Everything alright over there?” Joel asks, still focused on the road, but you feel his thumb press just a little firmer, like a silent dare.

You scoff, breath catching.

“You’re a menace.”

“Me?” he repeats, a hint of a smirk curling his lips. “I’m just drivin’. You’re the one squirming.”

His fingers creep higher, brushing the soft skin of your inner thigh. Deliberate. Testing.

Your legs shift involuntarily, trying to press against his touch, chasing more.

“You keep that up, and I swear I’m gonna—”

“Gonna what?” he cuts in, finally giving you a sideways glance. His voice drops lower, rougher.

“Lose your focus? Or beg me to pull over?”

Your pulse spikes, hammering hard against your ribs. That quiet, almost casual challenge in his voice—like he’s daring you to lose control—sets fire low in your stomach, coiling tight and relentless. Every nerve in your body sharpens, electric and aching all at once. You feel the heat crawling up your spine.

But this isn’t a game you’re willing to lose. Not now. Not to him.

A slow, fierce smile tugs at your lips, eyes locking with his in silent defiance. You won’t let him have all the power—not when you can feel the strength rising inside yourself, the delicious thrill of the fight. You lean into it, letting the tension build, the battle of wills weaving between your breaths and touches.

You’re not just going to endure this—you’re going to own it.

You part your legs slightly, maintaining eye contact, steady, daring.

Then, slowly, you guide his hand higher with your own, fingers firm around his wrist.

His breath hitches — but this time, he doesn’t pull back. His eyes flick to you briefly, darker now.

“That’s all the confirmation I need,” you whisper, voice thick with heat.

“Since you’re so good with your hands… maybe I should return the favor.”

You lean in, letting your lips ghost over his jaw.

“Driving me, saving me... making me come so hard I forgot my own name...” you murmur, breath warm against his skin.

His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring as you continue your slow torture.

“Let me say thank you properly.”

Joel’s hand flexes under yours, his breathing uneven now. But still, neither of you fully break.

“You really wanna test me like that, darlin’?” he rasps, voice rough, barely controlled.

“Maybe I do.” You smile, brushing your lips lightly against his ear.

“Because I’m not wearing anything under these shorts. And you’re so close, Joel. Just a little more…”

You release his wrist, letting the invitation hang heavy between you.

For a beat, neither of you moves.

The air inside the truck crackles — heavy with desire, thick with the unspoken.

Then his voice, low, hoarse:

“Jesus fucking Christ…”

Joel drags a hand over his face, trying to steady himself — but his eyes never leave you now. The tension snapping tighter with every breath.

“You little fuckin’ tease...” he mutters, shaking his head.

And this time, it’s not restraint — it’s anticipation. The last thread holding both of you is fraying fast.

And the next thing you know, he’s swerving off the road, tires kicking up dust as he pulls into an empty field, surrounded by nothing but open land and a few scattered trees.

He kills the engine, but doesn’t move right away.

Just sits there, hands gripping the wheel, breathing like he’s trying to talk himself down from something dangerous.

The heat in the truck is unbearable now — not from the sun, but from him.

The weight of his stare, the tension in the air, the way his jaw is locked so tight you’re almost afraid it might snap.

Almost.

You turn to him slowly. Calm. Composed. The picture of control.

But your body betrays you — breath shallow, thighs pressing together again as you wait.

Joel finally looks at you. And fuck.

That look in his eyes?

There’s no teasing left.

Just hunger. Frustration. Restraint stretched so thin it’s about to tear.

He leans in slowly — voice low, tight, dangerous.

“You really wanna see what happens when I stop holding back?”

You meet his gaze, your breath hitching just a little. No words.

Just a slow, deliberate nod — and a small, knowing smile curling at the corner of your lips.

That’s all he needs.

Joel hooks an arm behind your back and draws you tighter against him, then slips his other hand under your shirt, rough palm sliding up your ribs. The feel of his calloused fingertips grazing your bare skin sends a delicious wave of goosebumps racing across your body.

You arch into his touch, and he takes the hint — thumb brushing over one peaked nipple, testing, then rolling it between finger and thumb until your breath stutters against his mouth.

The pressure of him throbbing hot beneath you is maddening. You rock your hips, feeling the thick length of him glide along your slick folds. His groan vibrates against your lips; your answering gasp fans warm across his jaw.

The way his tongue tangles with yours makes you dizzy. His hands are everywhere, touching every inch of bare skin he can find, making your whole body tremble. He has the most delicious lips you’ve ever kissed — like they were made to fit against yours. In fact, everything about him fits you perfectly.

Heat and tension start to take over your body, pushing you closer to the edge, making you lose whatever self-control you had left. Your movements grow faster, more desperate.

With a gasp, you break the kiss and reach for Joel’s belt buckle — and he lets you.

You undo his jeans — and he lets you.

You push down his boxers — and he lets you.

But when you guide his thick, hard cock — already leaking with precome — to your slick entrance…

He only lets the tip in.

Just enough to drive you insane.

And then stops.

“You think it’s that easy?” he rasps, voice low and wicked. “That you get what you want the second you want it?”

The feeling of just the head stretching you, teasing you, ruins any coherent thought you had left.

“Joel,” you gasp, breathless, pleading. “Please.”

It comes out broken — a mix of desperation, heat, and something dangerously close to a sob.

He rocks his hips just slightly, letting the tip slide in a little deeper… then pulls back out, slow and cruel.

“Still think you’re in charge here?” he mutters against your neck.

You whimper, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Say it,” he growls. “Tell me who’s in control.”

“You are,” you whisper, breathless. “You’re in control… please, Joel, just do it alrea—”

You don’t get to finish the sentence because Joel cuts you off by slamming all the way into you, hard and deep.

Your cry tears through the heavy air, fingers tangling in his messy curls as he kisses, sucks, and bites at your neck with reckless hunger.

You roll your hips against him, chasing the friction, and the way your clit rubs just right with every thrust in this angle — it makes your vision blur. You put one hand on the window to hold yourself, trying to ride him harder, feel him deeper.

“I’m gonna make sure you remember this — every little scream, every gasp. You won’t forget me.” Joel says against your neck, making your chest and your pussy ache.

“I don’t think I could forget you even if I tried, Joel,” you whisper, and something shifts in the air.

When he hears it, Joel kisses you harder — like he’s trying to leave a mark, not just on your body, but on your soul.

Then he stills. The kisses, the movements — everything stops.

He just looks at you. At your eyes, your nose, your mouth.

Like he’s memorizing you, tracing your silhouette in his mind.

You couldn’t name what you see in his eyes, not even if you tried. So you just stare back, memorizing every line, every freckle on his face.

When you rest your hand on his cheek, he melts into your touch for a few seconds before kissing you again.

And this time, the kiss feels different — deeper, slower. You can feel everything he wants to say through the way his lips move against yours.

When he starts moving again, it’s different too. The rhythm is unhurried, but just as intense — maybe even more so.

And when your hips begin to meet his, matching his pace, it’s perfect. Every movement syncing like you were made to fit together.

The heat in your belly coils tighter, almost unbearable — and you can feel Joel’s rhythm falter. He’s close. And he knows you are too.

Then you make a decision you don’t usually make. But with Joel… If this is the last time, you want to be memorable. And it might seem crazy, but you trust him deeply.

There’s no doubt inside you, when you whisper “Joel, come inside me.”

Joel instantly looks at you, doubt shining on his worried eyes.

“What– Are you sure, baby? We don’t need–”

You cut him, thumb caressing his lower lip.

“I’m sure, trust me on this, please?” You plea, and he understands your look. He knows you wouldn’t do anything stupid, he also trusts you.

When he starts moving again, faster now, hitting that perfect spot inside you, it’s over. For both of you.

You feel your orgasm crashing through your body — harder than usual, and seconds later you feel Joel spilling into you. You moan into his mouth, biting his lower lip just enough to make him groan.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, still rocking into you, dragging out your high until your vision blurs.

You stay there for a while — tangled up in each other, hearts racing, skin damp and still buzzing. No words. Just the sound of your breathing slowly settling. His arms around you, solid and warm. Your leg draped over his hip. His nose buried in your hair like he never wants to move again.

Joel exhales, deep and shaky, like he’s still catching up with reality. He presses a lazy kiss to your temple and murmurs, voice rough and low:

“I didn’t plan on wanting more than two days with you.” He says it quietly, like it slipped out without permission. Then, after a beat — his voice even lower:

“And I sure as hell don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to my life like you never happened.”

That knocks the air out of your lungs. You’ve been bracing yourself for the goodbye since the moment this started. Something shifts in your chest — deep and undeniable. It’s not dramatic or loud; it’s a quiet ache, like something raw inside you just got touched for the first time. Because you feel it too. Exactly the same way. And hearing it out loud, in his voice — low, rough, a little unsure — makes it all too real.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when all this ends either. I never expected to find a cowboy on the road and get attached to him the way I did — especially in such a short time,” your voice comes out barely more than a whisper, fragile and raw. “But Joel… I’ll always be grateful for these few hours we had together.”

You fall quiet again, but this time it’s softer. You stay close, his hand still on your waist, your head tucked into the curve of his neck. The world outside keeps moving, but in here, it’s just the two of you. For a little longer.

Neither of you says much as you get back to your seats — not out of awkwardness, but reverence. Like speaking too soon might break whatever fragile thing just bloomed between you.

You adjust your top, finger-comb your hair, and glance at yourself in the mirror with a strange kind of softness. Not quite smiling, but not sad either. Changed somehow — like something cracked open inside you and let a little more light in.

Joel starts the engine. The familiar rumble fills the space, grounding but different now — everything feels a little shifted, like the air between you carries more weight, more truth.

He glances at you before pulling back onto the road, his hand resting near the gear shift. You don’t speak, but you reach over and gently lay your fingers next to his. He doesn’t flinch or hesitate. He just turns his palm to meet yours and lets them sit there — touching, warm, steady.

The miles slip by quietly. The sun climbs higher. You watch the trees blur past, the sky stretching wide above the road. A few songs drift in and out on the radio, but neither of you talks. You’re not ready to fill the silence yet. There’s something sacred in it.

Then, a flicker of color on the side of the road catches your eye.

Tents, hand-painted signs, a slow-moving crowd. Bright streamers flutter in the breeze like they’ve got nowhere else to be. It’s a roadside fair — messy, a little rundown, but full of life.

You lean forward, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Hey… look at that.”

Joel glances over. His eyes linger on the scene longer than they need to. You watch the way his jaw flexes, the way his grip on the wheel loosens just slightly, like he’s considering something.

Without a word, he flips the turn signal and pulls into the dusty lot beside the fair.

You blink, caught off guard.

“Wait, are we really going?” You look at him, bright eyes and a smile on your face.

He laughs when he sees how excited you are.

“Sure thing, honey.” Then he looks at you, a smile still on his lips. “You are easy to please, aren’t you?”

You nod, eyes focused on the fair getting closer. You see people talking and eating, just having a good time in general. The weather is perfect — hot sun in the sky, a good breeze in the air.

“True. Just give me snacks and sunshine, and I’m golden.”

Joel pulls the truck to a stop, and you couldn’t be more excited. As you step out, your eyes immediately dart to the countless little stalls scattered around, each begging for a quick visit. The very first one you zero in on is run by a sweet old lady selling paintings. You start walking eagerly, grabbing Joel’s hand to make sure he follows — and he couldn’t be happier to obey your lead.

The lady is incredibly kind. She slowly shows you her paintings and shares a bit about how she started painting, always with a smile on her face. You listen carefully as she talks, observing every detail of her beautiful work. When you’re about to say goodbye, she looks at you both kindly and says:

“You’re like a painting yourselves—full of color and life, together.”

That catches you off guard, your heart beating fast in your chest.

“It’s rare to see such a lovely pair—take good care of each other.”

You’re too shocked to answer. You just feel Joel hold your hand tighter and hear him say, “Thank you so much,” as you leave.

As you walk away, her words echo in your mind, sinking deeper with every step. You feel something swelling inside your chest — like a quiet, overwhelming tenderness you hadn’t fully allowed yourself to recognize until now. The way she saw the two of you — not as something casual, but as something full of life, full of meaning — made your throat tighten. It was as if a stranger had reached into your heart and gently held up a mirror, showing you what you were too afraid to say out loud.

Joel looks at you, a little worried, and asks if you’re okay.

“Yes, I’m fine. She just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

Joel nods slightly, and a tiny smile spreads across his face. There is nothing you can do except smile back, trying to memorize that moment.

A few steps forward, and you find a food stall. You decide to grab a bite — probably the last chance you’ll get on this trip, and that thought leaves a strange taste on your tongue. You buy two sandwiches, a soda, and some fries, then sit down at a little table shaded by an umbrella and start eating.

“What was your favorite part of the trip?” you ask Joel, genuinely curious.

A teasing smile spreads on his lips, and you roll your eyes, already knowing what he’s going to say.

“I was going to say something inappropriate,” he begins, eating his fries without hurry, “but we’re in public, so I’m going to be honest instead.”

You wait while he looks around the fair, organizing his thoughts.

“My favorite part was just driving, listening to my songs and hearing you ask random questions out of nowhere.”

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, come on, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy my brilliant interrogation.”

He grins, eyes curious. “So, what about you? What was your favorite part?”

You look at him — at his beautiful features, his curly hair, his eyes. You. You think. You were my favorite part. But you don’t say that. Too scared of your own feelings, so you just go with another truth instead.

“Honestly, it was all the advice you gave me. Who would’ve thought an old man would actually have good tips about life, huh?” you tease him, then add with a playful smirk, “And also all the times you made me come and lose any coherent thought.”

“Jesus Christ…” he murmurs, looking around to see if anyone’s listening, and you can’t help but laugh at his reaction.

“Relax, cowboy.” You’re still laughing when he shakes his head and tries to hide a smile.

“You’re unbelievable.”

You just wink at him, drinking your soda.

When you finish eating, you both take one last stroll around the fair before heading back to the truck. You see all kinds of things — clothes, flowers, handmade crafts — but when your eyes land on a small booth displaying photographs, you freeze for a moment.

Joel notices where your gaze has drifted and gently takes your hand, guiding you there without saying a word.

The pictures are simple but beautiful — landscapes, sunrises, quiet lakes, lonely roads disappearing into endless fields. Some feel painfully familiar, like fragments of your trip captured by someone else. You stare at one in particular — a photo of a car driving along an empty highway, the golden sunset casting long shadows.

Joel watches you quietly, giving you space.

“Reminds you of something?” he asks softly.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Us.”

He steps closer, voice even lower. “You want it?”

You glance up at him. “What would I do with it?”

“Keep it. For when you miss this.”

You hold his gaze for a moment. The weight of unspoken words hangs between you. You want to say it’s not this you’ll miss — it’s him. But you stay quiet, your heart already beating too fast.

Joel speaks again, voice warm, steady. “I’ll buy it for you.”

You smile, a little shy, letting him pay for the photo. When the vendor hands it over, Joel carefully puts it in one of the bags you’re carrying, as if it’s something precious.

“Thank you, Joel” you whisper, looking deep into his eyes, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the lips.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he answers, something unreadable in his eyes.

————————————————————————

You say you need a minute — bathroom or something — and disappear into the small crowd. Joel watches you go, hands in his pockets, feeling that strange pull in his chest again.

He thinks about you more than he should.

The way you laugh. The way you fill the quiet with questions and stories. The way you challenge him, tease him, make him feel younger and older all at once.

You got under his skin so damn easily, like you were always meant to. And what scares him most is how natural it feels. How right.

You see the world in a way he forgot people could — light, curious, unafraid to feel everything fully, even the parts that hurt.

He never thought he’d meet someone like you. Not now. Not after everything.

And yet... here you are.

His eyes drift back to the booth you both stopped at earlier — the photographs. The quiet highways. The goddamn sunsets.

Joel walks over again, pulled to it like a moth to a flame. But it isn’t the pictures that catch his attention this time.

Behind the display, sitting almost unnoticed on the corner of the table, is a small black camera — an old Sony Cybershot. Gotta be... hell, at least ten years old. But it looks well-kept. Clean. Cared for.

He stares at it longer than he should. Not because he needs a camera. But because he knows exactly what it would mean to you.

When you told your story — about the dream you left behind — he was surprised by how much of himself he saw in it.

You didn’t even realize it, but while you spoke, something in him quietly cracked open.

He remembered everything he’d sacrificed, everything he let slip through his fingers to give Sarah a better life. To keep her safe. To do right by her.

Dreams set aside. Plans rewritten. Versions of himself that never got to exist.

And hearing you speak about your own sacrifice — different, but not so different — made him see how rare this was. How rare you were.

"How much for the camera?" Joel asks the man behind the booth.

He gives him a number. Not cheap, but fair. Joel pulls out his wallet without hesitation.

While the vendor wraps it up, Joel glances over his shoulder. You’re still not back, lost somewhere in the maze of stalls.

Good. He doesn’t want you to see him buying it. Not yet.

The man hands him the small box. Joel tucks it carefully into one of the bags he’s carrying.

He stands there for a moment, breathing in the warm afternoon air, feeling the weight of it settle heavy in his chest.

This trip was supposed to be simple.

A few days on the road. Shared miles, quiet music. Two strangers helping each other out.

But somewhere along the way, it became something else entirely.

The late-night talks. The motel rooms. The small-town diners. The way your voice sounds in the morning. The way you fall asleep beside him like you’ve been doing it for years.

He didn’t expect it to matter this much.

He didn’t expect you to matter this much.

Now, with the end of the road so close, there’s a part of him that wishes it could stretch on just a little longer. That maybe, somehow, the destination could wait.

Because what you built out here — in the middle of nowhere — feels a hell of a lot like something he’s been missing for a long time.

Eventually, you return.

There’s a soft smile on your face as you approach, eyes warm like always — like nothing heavy sits between you. Though maybe it does. Though maybe neither of you is ready to say it yet.

"Ready?" you ask softly.

And all he can do is nod.

Because the truth is — he’s not ready. Not for this trip to end. Not for whatever comes next, or for what might not come at all.

But right now, with you standing there, waiting for him like you always have, he doesn’t have the words. So he nods. And follows.

————————————————————————

The road stretches quiet in front of you both, the familiar hum of the truck filling the space between words unsaid. The same hum you’ve been listening to for hours. Days, even. And somehow, it doesn’t feel like noise anymore. It feels like part of the rhythm you’ve both built together.

You glance around — the worn dashboard, the sun-faded seats, the way his flannel still rests carelessly behind your seat. The faint smell of his cologne mixed with coffee and old leather — something that, strangely, feels familiar now. Comfortable. Safe.

It’s become a ritual. The two of you. This truck. The road.

And for a brief moment, you let yourself pretend this drive might never end.

But then you see it.

The green sign appears just ahead, bold and impossible to ignore: WELCOME TO AUSTIN.

And it hits you both at the same time.

This is ending.

The weight settles heavy in your chest, pressing against your ribs, stealing a bit of air. You don’t say anything. Neither does he. But the energy shifts instantly — as if the temperature inside the truck drops a few degrees.

The laughter, the teasing, the touches — all of it feels suspended now, hanging somewhere between what just happened and what won’t happen again.

Joel’s grip tightens on the steering wheel, his eyes locked on the road, pretending like he’s unaffected — but God, he feels it.

Every mile forward is one mile closer to letting you go.

He clears his throat, voice rougher than intended.

"Where am I takin' you?"

You glance over at him, your eyes softer than he expects, like you know exactly what he’s feeling — because you’re feeling it too.

"Barton Hills. That’s where my sister lives."

You give him the address, but neither of you cares much for directions. The truck could drive itself at this point. The air grows thicker, like both of you are holding onto something slipping too fast through your fingers.

He steals a glance at you, watching how your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes this time.

You’re not ready for this to end either.

And somehow, that makes it both easier — and harder.

The closer you get, the heavier it feels.

Joel stays quiet as the streets of Austin rise around you. Houses appear. Landmarks blur past. But you can feel him thinking. You can almost hear the gears grinding inside his head.

Then, just a few blocks from the address, he suddenly makes a turn. Not where the GPS says. Not where you expect.

You look at him, confused, but his eyes stay on the road.

"Just… one more thing before we get there," he says, voice low.

Minutes later, the city fades behind you again. The truck climbs a narrow road, weaving through old oaks, until it opens up to a lookout point — high, quiet, wide open. From here, the whole skyline stretches out before you, bathed in late afternoon gold.

Joel parks and turns off the engine. For a moment, neither of you moves. The silence feels thick, but not uncomfortable. Heavy, but safe.

"This felt like a good place to stop," he finally says, breaking the silence. "Didn’t wanna pull up to your sister’s house just yet."

You smile softly, your eyes sweeping over the view.

"It’s beautiful," you whisper.

You turn toward him, feeling the lump forming in your throat.

"Joel… I just want to thank you. For everything you’ve done for me."

You pause, voice cracking softly.

"Thank you for looking after me, for keeping your promise — and not kidnapping me." You smile, eyes glassy. "But mostly… thank you for how good you’ve been to me. For making me feel safe. For making me feel like myself again."

You draw a shaky breath, barely a whisper now.

"I’ll never forget you."

Joel leans in, his hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger, cupping your cheek, his eyes locking onto yours.

"I’ll never forget you either, sweetheart," he says softly, voice low and steady. "This… our trip — it’s gonna stay with me. Always. You gave me something I didn’t even know I was missing."

For a few seconds, silence returns — heavy, sacred.

Then he reaches behind the seat and pulls out a small box. You don’t notice it at first — but when he hands it to you, your breath catches.

You look down.

A camera.

A Cybershot.

"Joel…" you whisper, voice cracking slightly.

He watches you closely, his eyes warm but serious, like he’s been carrying these words for miles.

"This here… it’s more like a symbol," he says. "To remind you that your dream’s still out there, waitin’ for you. And you gotta go after it — make it real."

Your fingers trace the edges of the box, your chest tightening in that way you weren't ready for.

"You didn’t have to—"

"I know," he cuts in gently. "But I wanted to."

He leans back slightly, breathing deep, steadying himself before saying what he knows you both need to hear.

"We’re gonna see each other again," he says softly. "And when we do, you’re gonna tell me all about your new adventures. And you’re gonna show me all the pictures you took in the meantime."

Your throat burns. Your eyes sting. You blink fast, trying to hold it together. Joel doesn’t move closer, doesn’t press — he just stays there, steady, waiting, holding space for you.

After a few moments, you wipe the corner of your eye, breathing out shakily. You glance back at the view, then smile — a real one this time — and gently lift the camera out of the box.

"If I’m gonna start taking pictures..." your voice still broken, "I know exactly where the first one should be."

You step out of the truck, walk a few feet ahead, and turn back. The old pickup sits there perfectly framed against the open sky, the hills behind it bathed in soft gold. The truck that carried you through miles of nowhere. Through long talks, stolen touches, laughter and silence.

You lift the camera, steady your hands, and press the shutter.

Click.

The first memory saved.

————————————————————————

The world outside seems to be moving faster than it should — kids playing on front lawns, people walking dogs, sprinklers spinning lazily in the late afternoon sun — but inside the truck, time slows.

You glance at him now and then, studying the way his hands rest on the steering wheel, the set of his jaw, the soft creases at the corner of his eyes. You try to memorize it all, even though you already have.

The closer you get, the heavier it settles in your chest.

Joel turns onto your sister’s street, the house growing larger with each passing second. Finally, he eases the truck to a stop right in front of the door.

The engine hums for a moment longer before he cuts it. And then — silence. Heavy, loaded.

Neither of you moves.

You turn toward him slowly, searching his face, feeling the ache in your throat tighten. His eyes meet yours — warm, steady, carrying the same quiet sadness that’s swelling inside you.

Without a word, you lean in.

Joel meets you halfway.

The kiss starts soft, but deepens almost instantly, like you both understand this is the only way to say what words can’t. There’s no rush. No desperation. Just slow, steady longing. His hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing gently along your cheek. You sink into him, trying to memorize the shape of his mouth, the taste of him, the way his breath mingles with yours — storing it somewhere deep, where nothing can touch it.

When you finally pull back, your forehead rests against his, breathing the same air, hearts beating painfully in sync.

Your voice breaks into a whisper, eyes still closed.

"You were my favorite part of the trip, Joel… Just you."

He exhales shakily, his hand still cupping your cheek. His thumb trembles just slightly.

"Sweetheart…" he breathes, voice thick, but for a moment, no words follow.

You smile softly, sliding your hand down his arm before finally pulling away, slowly, like any sudden movement might shatter something fragile between you.

You both step out of the truck. Joel grabs your bags, handing them to you with care, almost reluctantly.

Then he looks at you for a few seconds, gaze steady, before pulling you into a hug. The comfort of it is indescribable — warm, safe, like being exactly where you belong.

When he leans down and kisses your temple, you close your eyes and let yourself sink into him one last time.

Finally, you pull away. You glance back into the truck, imprinting every little detail into your memory.

A smile spreads across your lips as you whisper, "I’m gonna miss this."

Joel chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving you, savoring every last second.

You start walking toward your sister’s door and press the doorbell.

As you wait, you dare to look back one more time.

And what you see steals the breath from your lungs.

Joel — leaning against the truck, arms and legs crossed — watching you with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. You watch him for a moment longer, unable to pull your eyes away. The way he stands there — relaxed, confident, but soft in a way only you’ve seen — feels almost unreal.

His flannel sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the strength in his forearms, the way his jeans hang perfectly on his hips, the faint scruff catching the last light of the sun.

The glow wraps around him like some kind of quiet halo, making him look like something not quite of this world, like something you could step into and never leave.

You wish you had your camera in your hands — wish you could capture him exactly as he is right now, this quiet, breathtaking version of Joel no one else would ever see. But even without the click of a shutter, you know you’ve taken the picture. It’s there — burned into your mind, etched into your chest. A perfect snapshot you’ll carry with you, long after this moment fades.

The time with Joel is a treasure you will always keep safe, locked deep inside you. And you know, somehow, this isn’t the end. Because some things are too precious to leave behind.

————————————————————————

Later that night, as you gently tuck the camera away — treating it like the rarest, most cherished possession — something catches your eye at the bottom of the box.

You reach in and find a folded piece of paper.

Unfolding it, you see a phone number written carefully, and below it, in steady, deliberate handwriting:

Come back to me. I’ll be waiting. — J.M.

[magesmeatymuses]

“You haven’t eaten nearly enough to be full yet. You’ll need at least double the calories to grow that gut…”

"...I haven't eaten nearly enough? I haven't eaten nearly enough?!"

Amidst a graveyard of empty donut boxes and soda bottles and other such miscellaneous assortments, Melly lays in the middle of the trash pile with a stomach so swollen that it's akin in size to that of a yoga ball. So full of food is he that he's actively sweating from the amount of energy it takes to digest it all; he can't even look over the curve of is belly at is feeder.

"If this is what you classify as 'a usual snack', I'd ate to see what you consider overkill! I'm full! S-Seriously, you can stop feeding me now...!"

[zettaflake]

Spiders? Spiders it is then. No that wasn't- But they were already chasing them with a brimming cluster of spiders.

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[Inktober: Under the Indie Radar]

Prompt | Day 2: Spiders Game(s) | Just Shapes & Beats by @lachhhberzerk & Undertale by @fwugradiation

==========0==========

(Looks like I'm trailing a few days behind, but worry not! I've got the next three pieces completed already. I've just been posting them to Twitter and Instagram first. All I need is the time to draw Day 6 & 7, which I have a lot of today. :) )

Alt Text: A large orb-shaped spider with two segment triangular legs, opens it's mouth to reveal inner layers of teeth and tinier orb spiders crawling inside it. The giant spider and its smaller spiders give chase to a cube and pixel heart across a plane of horizontal lines. Donuts and croissants are seen flying in diagonal and boomerang patterns respectively. Large curved text is shown below, reading "day 2", with "• spiders" displayed above in small handwritten font.

[bitchkay]

Chubby reader thirsty ask here. Rio loves his chubby s/o but when he hears/knows you don't think of yourself as the beautiful angel he sees you as, he just won't have any of it. Bro looks like the type who would make love to you after a day of spoiling you. He'll tell you EXACTLY how he feels about you. Every square millimetre of the chubbiness you've grown to dislike is not safe from the sweet words and his kisses. And don't you DARE to say bad things about yourself, especially not in bed, because that's NOT TRUE. Rio would just fuck you while just revelling at looking at the way your body moves under him, and he would not STOP until he's certain you feel beautiful

[Ask received: oct 7th 2023]

This is so real‼‼

Literally all of this is canon

Rio literally WORSHIPS the ground you walk on

Hes absolutely flabbergasted when he hears you speak bad about yourself cus what???????????

He knows you're insecure and he knows that's not going to suddenly change overnight but he'll be damned if he let's this absolute slander continue

Rio loves spoiling you, taking you out to your favorite food spots, loving that happy look on your face as you share some eternal donuts together, holding your hand, this is bliss

Then taking you home and giving you all he loving he can muster, loving on ever dip and curve, roll and crease, your body has to offer, sinking his hands into your soft skin as he kisses your body

He can't possibly think you're more beautiful.

He just can't keep his hands to himself.

Imagine this♡:

"Rio! Come on, I just ate!" You protest as Rio tries to peel your clothes off. "But I want to see you." Rio pouted —a tactic— at you his hands resting about your waist. "I'm all bloated and... gross..." Rio makes a face as you say this, he can't believe what hes hearing. Did he hear you correctly? "No. You're not." He makes another attempt to pull off your clothes pushing past your protests, leaning down to kiss your skin. "You're gorgeous... whether you like it or not." Peeling the rest of your clothes off your skin, Rios sweet kisses trailed down your neck... down your chest... down your stomach... "You're so pretty..." He lifts you off your feet. "! Whoa! Rio!" He holds you by your thighs kissing the top of your chest as he leads you to the bed. "If you don't like this, you can push me away, but I will not have you speak ill of yourself." He places you down on the bed trailing kisses down your body. "... not when you're so sweet..." Rio kisses your soft stomach sucking on the skin, grazing his teeth against it leaving marks behind as he goes down toward the waist band of your pants. "Rio..." you sighed as Rios lips worshipped you and all your soft bits before going to tug off your pants. Look at you, Rios not even concerned about himself meanwhile you're nearly naked. "Creator... you're gorgeous..." Rio said looking down at you before going for your thighs, kissing and nipping at your skin slowly going up your leg towards your inner thighs. "Every peice of you... is just as delectable as the last..." Rio mumbles out shoving his face into your legs, your thighs on either side of his cheeks as he pushing your thighs up toward your chest. "Rioo..... embarrassing..." you cover your face with your hands as Rio comes face to face with your clothed pussy. "Hey... don't hide..." he pulls your hands away. "Just look at me. Okay? Focus only on me. I'll show you exactly how beautiful I find you."

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Hi babes. Not sure if your doing request, but I'm been un a huge rut lately. I just need a cuddle. Can I request a fluffy Andy Barber? Thank you! 💕😘

A/N- I'm so sorry babes, those ruts really bring us down. I was there not too long ago. Much love sent your way and I hope you feel better soon.

You hadn't been feeling good, fuck for a few days now. Andy at first thought it was quarantine getting to you, the long days at home, unable to go the bakery that you poured your heart and soul into. The first night he really noticed, he brushed up behind you, letting his beard brush up against the curve of your neck. “What's wrong baby?” You just shook your head and plunged your hands back into the soapy water, muttering. “Nothing Andy, Its all good.” 

His heart sank, it was always hard when you closed off from him. Turning you slightly to give you a goodbye kiss, he rubbed the small of your back. “Will be home tonight Sweetness, I got to head to work.” DA’s were still in demand. You gave him a smile, but it wasn't the kind that reached your eyes as you nodded. 

“I will see you tonight Handsome.” When he left, the quiet seemed to close in on you, and you sighed heavily. Another long ass day with nothing to do. 

Andy pondered on it, for at least half the day, getting through a few meetings of upcoming cases that were assigned out, once he got his file, he pushed away from the table. “Sorry, I got business I need to address. I will be back tomorrow.” 

“Andy, is everything okay?” asked Neal, and Andy sidled around the question. “Yea, you know... Personal shit.” Meaning, none of your fucking business Neal. 

The ride home, Andy made a stop at the grocery store, where he picked out your favorite treats, along with the ingredients to make those mimosas you so enjoyed. Heading home, he ended up catching you by surprise when coming through the door. You had been sitting at the kitchen table, sipping from your cup of tea when you looked at him in surprise. “Andy? Why are you home?” 

“Well...” Andy started as he set the bags down, and you bit your lip with curiosity as you approached. “... I figured how long has it been since you and I drank ourselves silly in the morning, ate a ridiculous amount of danishes and donuts while making out on the couch like a couple of horny teenagers while I don't know... something like Weekend at Bernies is playing in the background?” He grinned, and you couldn't help but break out in a smile, his arm loping around your waist, bringing you in closer. 

“You left work... to make out on our couch and watch Weekend at Bernies? Like when we were teenagers?” You giggled as he drew you back to the kitchen table and sat down, you immediately straddled his lap, letting your fingers run through his beard on his cheeks and up into his hair.” 

“Sure as fuck did Babygirl, be just like the old days when we were broke and stuck at your parents. Trying not to get caught.” He winked, cupping his hand around the back of your neck and drawing you in, kissing you much like he used to, all tongue and teeth, sweet bite to your lip before letting you go. 

“Well, my parents won't catch us this time.” You giggled softly as you moved off his lap to go make the mimosas he had bought the ingredients for, as well as take out the treats that you noticed conveniently all matched your favorites. 

“Well, we have to use our imaginations a bit.” He went into the living room, and started arranging the furniture, and got the tv on to Prime to order the movie, the same one you two had rented over and over. Cause no matter how many times you two rented it, you somehow never finished. When you came in, and surveyed the living room, you couldn't help the rush of excitement at the act, Andy standing in the middle, surveying it. It was set up exactly like your parents living room had been, 20 years ago. 

“Does it look right?” He asked, shifting the couch a bit more, and you nodded, setting down the tray and drinks on the nearby coffee table. “Looks perfect Andy.” 

He collapsed down and held out his arms. You couldn't help but jump on the couch, bouncing a bit as you shifted to lay up against him, cuddling in against your husband's body. A warmth you sunk into so many times in your life that it was your safe place. His arm came around you while the lights dimmed for the tv, the curtains blocking out the bright outside world you weren't allowed in anymore. 

But that didn't matter, cause now you were falling back to the early 90′s cuddling up to your boyfriend, going to watch a movie your paid for but never properly seen. Now he was a bit more filled out, muscular under your hands, his shirt was no longer a band shirt, but a professional button-up with a tie, his cologne was now a match for him. Not that punk-ass shit from Ames that' drove you wild back in the day. But his eyes that glanced down at you were still the same, those soft lips with the fuller bottom one that claimed yours were still the same, and those words were still the same he groaned against your lips. 

“Your so damn irresistible, you know that? Drive me wild Baby.” His arm tightening around you a bit more, scooping you into his lap and cuddling you against your chest.

Did you and Andy finish Weekend at Bernies this time? Hell no.