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joelsgreys · 26 days

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fall into temptation | three

Post Outbreak Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high.

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter.

His youngest daughter.

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still.

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit.

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock, right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have��”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none.

Still.

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation.

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him.

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told.

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs.

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you were underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

#fic: fall into temptation #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #post outbreak joel

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nwjws · 6 months

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WHO THE HELL IS NI-KI ?! - NRK SMAU

; SYNOPSIS - school sucks. especially when everyone's avoiding you like the plague - all because you're the principal's daughter. so it comes as a surprise when a strip of paper falls out of your locker one day, with a corny pick up line written on it. now you only have one question on your mind: who the hell is nishimura riki?

; PAIRING - riki x fem!reader

; STATUS - complete!

; TAGS - smau, fluff, crack (more like attempt at humor), high school au, riki is a menace, hyper x calm dynamics?? ; WARNINGS - swearing, dirty jokes/pick up lines (maybe??)

; AUTHOR’S CORNER ! i just love starting something new before finishing my other wips 😍 i've made it so the first part of the pick up line is on the masterlist here, and the punchline is on the title of the actual chapter. this is inspired by this pjo smau on ao3 (LMAO??) + my own experiences bc i also slipped a bunch of pick up lines in random lockers

SPAM LIKE = BLOCK !

➼ PROFILES ! losers club ; riki's pr team

PROLOGUE ! all the good pick up lines are taken…

ONE ! i don't need google anymore...

TWO ! i’m so jealous of ur phone…

THREE ! are you fortnite?…

BONUS ! let's play a game of tag...

FOUR ! do you listen to newjeans?…

FIVE ! "nothing is faster than light"...

SIX ! something is wrong with my phone…

SEVEN ! do you play quidditch?...

EIGHT ! this doughnut is pretty sweet…

NINE ! you look familiar, did we share a class?…

TEN ! we should probably social distance…

ELEVEN ! are you 0x1 = lovesong?…

TWELVE ! are you an unfunny meme?…

THIRTEEN ! hey, is it morning yet?…

13.5 ! i can’t hold a conversation…

FOURTEEN ! instead of liking my message…

FIFTEEN ! your hand looks heavy… ↳ written [2.1k] + smau

SIXTEEN ! be careful bumping into others…

SEVENTEEN ! are you a trap?…

EIGHTEEN ! are you the children i keep in my basement?…

NINETEEN ! is it the fire works…

TWENTY ! i’ll give you a kiss… ↳ written [1.5k]

EPILOGUE ! i can’t think of any more pick up lines…

; TAGLIST (closed!) perm . @lovelovelovebts @miyseung @babyy-bambii @haechansbbg @gweoriz @maoyueze networks . @kflixnet @k-films @/k-labels . send an ask or comment here to be added!

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gffa · 2 months

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Usually, I like to finish reading a fic before recommending it properly, but I've been sucked into about five different STAR WARS fics recently that I've gotten far enough into that I'm willing to trust my heart to them because they're scratching a very specific itch for me--namely, that I want deeper explorations of both the Jedi Order and of Anakin's character. I want fic to punch me in the feelings over both of these aspects of the story. I want fic to sometimes set Obi-Wan and Anakin aside and focus on Ahsoka for awhile, really tell her story. I want Jedi themes woven into a story. I want an exploration of Anakin's mindset that reminds me of just how much I love him and have sympathy for him. And fandom has delivered for me.

DO YOU WANT FIC TO BLACK OUT TO AND LOSE AN ENTIRE WEEKEND OVER? HAVE I GOT SOME RECS FOR YOU:

✦ Out with Lanterns by SkyeBean, ahsoka & mace & jedi & clones & cast, 312.5k In another universe, Jedi Masters Plo Koon and Depa Billaba decide a Padawan could do Mace some good. It takes a while, but he eventually agrees. When he takes Ahsoka Tano as his Padawan, Mace knows that he's broken through a Shatterpoint and changed the course of a life. How, he doesn't know. This fic accomplishes several things that have sent me over the moon: 1) At its heart, it's an Ahsoka fic that shows her growing up as a Padawan, going on missions, learning lessons, and having character growth. 2) It weaves in so many other characters around her, that Mace is there in almost every chapter, serious but warm in the Force, just as beautifully characterized as she is. 3) The other Jedi get their moments of excellents, Shaak taking Ahsoka on her Akul hunt was wonder to read, seeing Obi-Wan show up for a chapter had me over the moon, Adi taking care with Ahsoka was lovely, Depa was a shining star when she took Ahsoka under her wing, Fox growing used to these strange Jedi and growing into himself through Ahsoka's eyes was wonderful. 4) The writing is that kind of solid that I don't mean as mid-tier, but the kind that I feel like can bear weight on it, I can pick it up and read for 30k and barely realize any time has passed, despite that I've gotten through an entire arc of the fic. 5) It does an incredible job of balancing that feel of The Clone Wars show, without directly copying anything, that it's like these are arcs that I could have seen on the show itself, the lessons woven in, but still with enough plot moving forward and action to make it exciting. If you want more Jedi-centric fic in your life (where they don't have to be perfect! sometimes they can be less than perfect and it's okay because they're still good! ohhhh, my heart warmed at that) or you want to read a lovely Ahsoka-centric fic in a different life, but still so recognizably herself, then this is one I want to shove right in your face immediately.

✦ Take it from the top and try again by mauvera, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 116.k wip Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. Should be relatively easy. Right? I got sucked into the first fic in this series (which is complete, if you want to read it--it's not the end of the story, but it's a good stopping point and feels like it should have some solid resolution if you don't want to get into a wip) and read the first fic over the course of about three days because I was sucked in so thoroughly. I can never get enough of Obi-Wan time traveling back to the past, where he loves the Jedi and they love him, and I love this one because he has to make genuine plans for changing things--things change and I have no idea how that's going to affect Palpatine's machinations! Exciting! But it's also a lovely look at Obi-Wan's dynamics with multiple characters--I found the Obi-Wan & Padme scenes a hightlight personally, their friendship really blossomed as they both flung themselves into trying to better the galaxy, even if she doesn't know he's from the future, that he's working so hard matched a lot of her energy and I really enjoyed that--from Qui-Gon to Mace to Padme to Anakin and, as the sequel progresses, Dooku as well. It's another Jedi-positive fic, it has me invested in the plot, it's a joy to see competent!Obi-Wan, and I would love to shove it at more people.

✦ Post Order 66 Exile AU by Livsy, obi-wan & anakin, 46k (wip-esque) After a failed order 66, in which many Jedi still died but the Sith were defeated, an exiled warrior and a boy wander a distant planet and attempt to get along. This is probably the shortest fic on this list but I'm including it because it genuinely felt longer than that, for how dense the emotional intensity of it is. It's an AU where the Jedi barely eked out a victory, still on the edge of extinction in many ways, and Anakin deep in the pits of the dark side, so Obi-Wan takes him to a backwater planet in exile for the both of them, traveling through the countryside and just trying to make it from day to day. What punched me right in the feelings place is that this fic doesn't shy away from the hurt and the anger on both sides, that both of them are allowed to be unreliable narrators that have their own points of view on what's transpired and what lays between them. It doesn't back away from the hurt they both feel, the despair they both feel, yet there's hope here. It's ultimately a story about clawing yourself back from the dark side, and it's beautifully characterized for both of them, that unkind things are said on both of their parts, but you understand why the characters are in the place they are. It's wrapped up in a lushly written backdrop, with some lovely Japanese feudal era details woven in, but also with a Star Wars patina spread across all of it. It's not necessarily a kind fic, but if you like fic that bites down on a wound, I enjoyed this series a lot and would love to see it continued--but, honestly, what's here is already enough resolution that, looking back on it after the initial "Noooooo, I need more!" feeling has faded, I'm actually very satisfied with. ✦ Men of Power by AlabasterInk, obi-wan & anakin & mace & yoda & jedi & palpatine & cast, 86.1k wip When an old powerful man suddenly comes in and sweeps your underage Padawan away without so much as a by your leave, that’s the time to start asking questions. I'm only about 20k into this fic, so I can't say what shape it will take later on or how much pairings might come into it, but I still had to come running over to shove this fic at people, because it's scratching the itch I have for Jedi-positive fic that explores the idea of Anakin's trauma from his childhood as a slave, that this is a child who is wound so tight and comes from such a horrible thing having been done to him, having been owned as a person, that I understand why he stays silent on some of the things I desperately wish he could talk about or he doesn't really believe some of the things the Jedi tell him. It's a fic that takes a lot more care with Anakin's character than I think canon ever intended, weaving in a lot of the heartbreaking stuff from Legends' supplementing the canon, and is creating something that punches me right in the feelings place for him, that he's such a bright, brilliant boy, but I see why he struggled and it's not about assigning blame in any direction. It's about deeply caring people who fate has take a few steps to the left and something shifts just a little--and I appreciate that there's something very delicate feeling here, that the Jedi just don't have any real reason to be suspicious of Palpatine, his actions make sense, they genuinely can't feel any ill intention from him in the Force, they discuss why it would make sense that he'd want to support Anakin, all while we the readers can see, in hindsight, where the shadows have been creeping in. If you want Jedi-positive fic that also leaves some teeth marks over Anakin's trauma being explored in a way that is entirely sympathetic to him, then I want to shove this fic at you, too.

#lumi.txt #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #mace windu #yoda #ahsoka tano #jedi order #fic recs #star wars fic recs

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velchronica · 3 months

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first love forever! * miniseries

♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ itoshi rin—

content: hs 1st yr!rin, pre-bllk rin, fem!reader, popular!reader, class clown!reader, reader has backstory, strangers/classmates to lovers, typical high school shoujo manga-style romcom, horimiya-esque au, fluff, occasional tiny sprinkles of angst on rin’s side bc of sae, sfw

one! ♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the springtime of my life began with you

after sae denounced their shared dream, itoshi rin starts highschool with a heavy heart and only one thing on his mind: how he plans on becoming the world’s best striker. he doesn’t anticipate how hard it is to get you out of sight or out of mind, or how much your smile heals the fresh wounds sae left behind.

two! ♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ a summer haze, bound by the surprise of our glory days

it’s a blazing summer in kanagawa, and rin feels like he’s going to burn to death, either from the heat or the way you make his face go pink. itoshi rin’s first love is leaving him dizzy—he’s skydiving, plummeting, falling hopelessly in love with you—but that’s a secret, alright? it’s not like the entire school already knows.

three! ♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ every night that summer, just to seal my fate

rin wonders if he’ll regret inviting you to the summer festival—he has more pressing matters to be worrying about, after all. but seeing you there in your yukata as the fireworks go off, you’re just too pretty, and rin doesn’t expect the truth to roll off his tongue the way it does.

four! ♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place

now that you’re officially dating, rin has begun navigating the world of pda. however, the rest of school is completely unaware of your new relationship status, and is bewildered when the semester kicks off with itoshi rin kissing you in front of everyone at the end of a match.

+ extra! ♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ autumn air, jacket 'round my shoulders is yours

it’s school festival season, yay, and your class is all too happy to throw you and rin into the deep end: you’re the main leads in the upcoming class play. it’s silly, it’s sweet, and it’s the perfect way to hard launch your wonderful boyfriend to the rest of your family. cue shenanigans.

taglist! ˖♡ *. ࣪‧♫ ₊˚໒꒱⋆✩

@yoimyas @moeriluv @miiroki @etoiile

wip! * chapters will be released sporadically + content tags will be updated when each chapter is complete -> will take me forever atm bc of my irl obligations aka exam prep ꒰ ⸝⸝ ˊ͈ ^ ˋ͈ ⸝⸝꒱

winner of the itoshi rin longfic poll! * i was pleasantly by how close all the results were (they were all roughly in the 1/3 vote range), so i will probs end up working on the other two at later dates ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭

taglist open! * pls reblog with indication you’d liked to be tagged on upcoming chapters (i.e. ‘tag me!’) if ur interested ૮꒰ྀི⊃´ ꒳ `⊂ྀི꒱ა

#bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk #bllk imagines #blue lock x reader #bluelock x reader #bluelock #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #bllk fic #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi x reader #♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ vivi #ᰔᩚ series

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underdark-dreams · 17 days

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WIP Preview: Birds & Bees Ch.3

Have been slowly cooking on a doozy of a final chapter for my Rolan x Tav rut fic Birds and Bees, featuring plenty of smut, feelings, and smut-with-feelings. (why not all three?)

But first a preview of the pure smut, for everyone who has followed & patiently waited for updates! I love you all!

“I should take a sample of your blood this week,” Tav said with sudden inspiration. “Blood alchemy during a heat cycle…not sure it’s ever been tried.”

“Really?” Rolan was kissing idly across her shoulder blades while she lay reading on her stomach. “If you truly want to, I’d give you a vial. Not sure what applications you'd expect to get out of it.”

“I can think of one very lucrative one.”

She flipped through a few more pages before she caught Rolan looking at her quizzically.

“Aphrodisiacs?” She gave a wave of her hand, as if it was quite obvious. “If I could bottle up some of that magic, I'd be a rich woman.”

Rolan looked a bit scandalized before he caught the corners of her mouth twitching. His eyes glinted.

“You’re insufferable.” He clicked his tongue at her. “I’ve trusted you during a very delicate time, you know.”

“Hmmm.” She continued lazily through her book. “Maybe I'll just save it up for myself, then. You only go into rut every year or two, don't you? I might want to store away some of that virility for a rainy day.”

“You absolute menace—”

She felt a thrill like that of a misbehaving child before Rolan pounced on her. His hands landed beside her elbows as his warm weight pressed her body deliciously into the mattress.

“I'm perfectly capable of getting you off any time of any year.” The thick ridges of his length slid hard over her rear, punctuating his statement.

“But I've never slept with you outside your cycle, have I? I'd have no way of knowing,” she protested lightly, though the way she arched and rubbed back against his cock undercut her teasing completely.

Rolan nipped at a spot behind her shoulder that made her shiver, and his baritone ghosted beside her ear. “I can think of a few well-proven methods.”

His fingers reached to drag her prop book away out of her grip. Then his body heat left her. Before Tav could look back, she felt his hands hook under the front of her pelvis and tug, lifting her ass upward off the mattress. He kept pulling until she’d been forced to scoot her knees all the way up under her hips and drop her shoulders.

With her chest pressed down against the sheets and her ass propped vulgarly upward, she felt an exposing rush of cool air across the wet spot between her legs. More aching desire was already pooling at her entrance, and she was certain Rolan was taking a very long look at the view she was presenting him.

Just as she tried to crane her neck against the sheets to see his face, Rolan’s hot breath ghosted across her cunt.

A trembling whine caught in her throat. She found herself arching her back as far as she could, giving him a full view and complete access, shamelessly eager for the feel of his mouth on her.

Rolan’s fingers cupped around her thighs. When the tip of his nose brushed near her entrance, she heard him inhale deeply against her.

The small gesture was obscene and shockingly arousing. She bit back a gasp. She throbbed between her legs and felt a drop of slick leak out and roll down her inner thigh. Without pause, Rolan’s hot tongue swept it from her skin.

“Gods,” he groaned, and she felt his mouth vibrate against her thigh. “You are utterly delicious. Do you know what you do to me?”

#nsft #spicy #wip update #rolan x tav #bg3 rolan #birds and bees #rebgrrl writes #tiefling biology #rut and heat cycles

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wangxianficfinder · 3 months

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Fic Finder

Feb 1st

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1. Hey! Thank you so much for your hardwork!

So I've been looking for this fic for days now, I just cant find it. I can't remember if Wwx is the omega but its an abo fic where wwx had 4 children i think. And he thinks theyre all dead but theyre not. He definitely had 2 daughters? Or was it one? But basically there was this scene where they all reunited in the jingshi and they were crying.

Can somebody help me find this fic please? THANK YOU :") @losing-victor

FOUND! I think the fic for #1 of the most recent Fic Finder, where WWX has kids and they reunite in the Jingshi, may be Like The Butterfly by Setari (T, 18k, wangxian, WIP, Fix-It, Not Everyone Dies AU, Next Generation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Unresolved Emotional Tension) on AO3. It’s part of a series ‘The Wei Family’, with three stories total.

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2. Hello all! I am looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian is blind and the Jiang he grew up with know but the Lans don’t know until the lectures when Lan Qiren yells at Wuxian for taking sloppy notes and he is like “I can’t see, how can I tell if my writing is sloppy?” It is not “Close Your Eyes, Feel My Heartbeat” by ThatDesiGirl, I just reread it to check. Any guesses? Thank you!

FOUND? The Darkness Before Dawn by PsycheStellata707 (M, 113k, WIP, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX, Time Travel, Attempt at Humor, PTSD, Oblivious WWX, WWX-centric, Blind WWX, Sentient Burial Mounds, Self-Indulgent, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Oblivious Pining, Not Canon Compliant)

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3. Hi; for fic finder, could you help me find shapeshifter!WWX fic? Its an old fic. Its a series too i think (3 fic with the first in the series completed and the second part is WIP). I think its tiger WWX (not sure). After WC throws WWX to burial mound, WWX shift to tiger. He cant shift back to human. He hunts the wen in tiger form. He help NHS when he is in the river. NHS was attacked by the wen (either wen or a yao). They then goes to Qinghe. In Qinghe, JWY and LWJ bring back WC to Qinghe to interrogate him. But WWX sees WC and bite him to death. I think WWX is the one who killed WRH too. He bit WRH to death i think

In the second part of the series, after war it was found out that WWX is shapeshifter and many wants to kill (?) Him. The last time i read this, it still only has 1 or 2 chapter.

That all i can remember. Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

FOUND! The Tiger has Destroyed his Cage by updatebug (G, 54k, WangXian, Shapeshifters, Fix-it fic, Animal Pelts, Tiger WWX, Found Family, adopted family, Yungmeng Siblings, Canon appropriate angst and violence, Gratuitous OCs)

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4. i read this a while back but can't remember the name of it, if anyone can find it or knows the name please let me know .

Nie huaisang, lan zhan, Jiang chang active a time travel array. Huaisang and land zhan did NOT know JC altered the array to erase WY. LZ eventually forces JC to fix it and bring WY back.

When JC altered the array to bring WY back he messed up somewhat and the price was his own core disapp //

I read a FF a while back and cannot remember the name of it, if someone could help me out, I would LOVE to reread it.

Years after Wei WuXian died, Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang want to travel back in time to save Wei Ying and Nei Mingjue. NHS and LWJ finds an array but realize they cannot activate it without Jiang Cheng's help.

However they didn't realize that JC changed the array until they were back in Cloud Recess lecture. LWJ punches JC and

JC had erased WWX from existence. Eventually LWJ made JC fix it and bring back WWX.

After WWX is brought back he reveals the gold core transfer along with other secrets.

However when JC redid the array and brought WWX back is made his own core slowly disintegrate.

They do save the Wen Remnants and and Wen Qing actually helps LWJ finish destroying JCs core when he is challenged to a dual.

@prissyp2014

FOUND? The Way It Wasn’t by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)

FOUND? Not This Time by Marinelifeclub (M, 93k, WangXian, SangNing, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Angst Dark LWJ, Protective LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Resentful WWX, Established Relationship, POV Alternating, Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Minor XuanLi, not for jc fans, eventual 3zun, Kid Fic)

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5. Hello! For the fic finder/s, thank you in advance. ♡

For days I've been trying to find this fic. I'm not sure with the details like if wei wuxian is a farmer here or older (i think he is a farmer though) but what I remember is lan wangji making advances to wei wuxian while sleeping (wei wuxian here is known as a heavy sleeper ) but at some point wei wuxian got awake during those and from then on anticipate what lan wangji gonna do, so he knows what lan wangji is doing and there's a number of that that happens. Also, lan wangji is running out of time because he was about to go to the main central or the palace to take an imperial exam (? I'm not sure if that's the term) anyway, he was going with lan sizhui to take that exam. I'm not sure if he goes on the day of the exam but I vaguely remember that he confess his feelings to wei wuxian before or on that day. Then they did the everyday. ヾ(＠゜▽゜＠）ノ

FOUND? #5 is "like the waves return to the shore, again and again" but it's been deleted. There's a link to a cache on the @wangxianficrecs blog around Jan 20, maybe Mod Kay can help?

Regarding #5, I have that story saved. So, if anyone wants to read it, send an ask for WangxianFicRecs or a message to @the-last-d-boy with your mail adress and I'll send it to you. ~Mod Kay

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6. Hi! I've been trying to find a fic (I believe it's a time travel au where Lwj and Jc, or just Jc I'm not sure, travel back in time), but the only scene I remember is a scene where Jc for some reason gets mad with Wwx during the Sunshot Campaign after finding Wwx in the woods around the war camp (I don't remember what Wwx was doing). Jc hits Wwx with zidian and Wwx is sent flying into a tree. Jc gets scared after Wwx doesn't get up and goes see if Wwx is ok, only to find out Wwx's heart is no longer beating. Lwj (I don't remember if he arrived after Jc hit Wwx or if he was already in the woods with Wwx), then, manages to make Wwx's heart beat again by performing CPR on him.

can't find the fic, but I remember it. Maybe these details will help. Lan Wangji found out about WWX not having a core after he gets back from being missing (I think by grabbing his wrist maybe?), but Jiang Cheng doesn't know. He didn't expect that hitting WWX with Zidian would be much of a problem for him and he's totally freaked out when WWX collapses and LWJ starts doing CPR which is what you'd do for a non-cultivator

FOUND? these colours fade for you only by doodlebutt (T, 36k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everybody Lives, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, ...eventually, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Sunshot Campaign) it isn’t a time travel fic, but it has the scene where jc hits wwx with zidian

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7. Completely unrelated to my last ask, I’m looking for a Dragonji fic where his hoard is bunnies. Lan Xichen tries to talk to him in the bunny field but he’s just chilling in his dragon form with the bunnies finding him Good. Lan Xichen flies to the Burial Mounds for desperate negotiations with Wei Wuxian. Eventually Wei Wuxian mentions that Lan Wangji didn’t have any bunnies until WW gave him some. LX has some realizations from that. @any-mouse

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8. hii!! i was searching for a fic where lwj finds wwx's corpse at the BM and things happen. i don't know much but it was cracky. i hope you can find it!! thanks already :D @for13years-i-play-inquiry-foryou

FOUND? (we make) a good pair by gamayuglagay (gracon_bacon) (E, 1k, WangXian, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Necrophilia, Foot Fetish, Vajankle, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Crack Taken Seriously) Warning: NECROPHILIA

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9. I read this time travel fic a while ago which I can't find!

I vaguely remember a lot of dimension travel and a-yuan js sort of helping wei wuxian doing the said travel and a-qing is also there. in one part they reach the past but like not really cultivation world (not sure on that) and meet lan xichen, there's also lwj and wwx of that world who help them get back, there's an spaceship and stuff and I think wen qing was also there maybe?

i just realized that the request i sent was way too vague and so is the summary of the fic, which I was misled while looking for it. also if u could add this to the ficfinder post, to explain why this is the fic I was looking for, it is very confusing I'm sorry!!

apparently it wasnt a-yuan who was helping wwx, but rather an original character and its more parallel universes than time travel!! its abeautiful fic!!

FOUND! counterpart by queensmooting (E, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Parallel Universes, Multiple Selves, Kid Fic, some child endangerment (everyone will be fine), lwj can and has gotten pregnant, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, bittersweet ending (ymmv))

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10. hello! i'm looking for a fic where wwx and lwj have a biological child (i'm not sure if it's a-yuan). i think this fic has an omegaverse setting? lwj doesn't know about the child until a bit later on and even then he's unsure bc when he sees the child and asks wwx, wwx tells him to ask again the next time they meet (or he'll tell him more? i'm not sure). but they don't meet again bc wwx dies at qiongqi path on the way to jl's 1 month celebration via a bunch of arrows courtesy of jin zixun and co. he brought along wn and his child, but wn brings the child to cloud recesses secretly, so jzx doesn't die due to wn. i remember there was a scene where they brought wwx's body to jinlin tai and stripped him naked to scan for the hundred holes curse scars, and jins were creepy about it. lwj was dissociating in this scene and he's sorely disappointed in his brother for not helping stop them. please help, i've been thinking abt this fic for days now 😭 @aracchiii

FOUND! 🧡 Born to Blossom, Bloom to Perish by LadyMithiel (M, 113k, WIP, WangXian, A/B/O, Mpreg, Angst, Mostly Canon compliant)

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11. Hi!!! I'm trying to find a fic (it's an one-shot, if I remember correctly) that happens during the Sunshot Campaign. One of the soldiers sees Jc and Wwx fighting, and they see Wwx flinching, and trying to back away. This soldier (I think they either were sexuality assaulted or knew someone who was sexuality assaulted and reacted like this towards the abuser, I don't remember which one it is now), and they find Wwx's reactions to Jc way too similar to the reactions of someone towards their abuser and comments this with another soldiers. The "Wwx reacts towards sect leader Jiang like someone who was sexuality assaulted does" comment spreads around, and soon becomes rumors that Jc did rape Wwx. Wwx is confused by how suddenly everyone is sympathetic towards him, treat him with care and don't let him alone with Jc. One of the last scenes is Jc mad because Wwx "tarnished his reputation", Wwx not understanding shit of what's going on and Jc getting real scarry. They were in a secluded place, I think. Lwj is walking about and sees Wwx backed away on a tree while Jc is looking really agressive, Wwx looking scared, and he (who has heard of the rumors), goes like "nope, he's not about to take Wy against his will again. Not on my watch" and totally trashes Jc (I don't remember if only verbally or also physically).

FOUND? might be chapter 15 of Vrishchika's short prompts?

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12. heyyy, I read the summary of this fic some time ago and I can't find it anymore.

I think it was a modern au in which wwx dies and lwj is looking for him. might be modern with cultivation or maybe wwx just disappeared and everyone thinks he's died. I dont really remember a lot, help me out.

I'm pretty sure he dies though.

FOUND? when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations)

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13. I'm looking for a fanfic where wwx gave his golden core to jc but then developed a black one, and if he uses too much demonic cultivation he can die or something like that. also I don't remember if it's from the same fic or not but I think the annoying cousin of Jin z dies from a curse

FOUND? 🧡 a stone to break your soul, a song to save it by rikke (M, 180k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, arranged marriage)

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14. hello! how are you doing?

i once read a ff in which WWX is rescued/saved/something like that by the Lan Clan i think in the middle of war or something but WWX helps Lan Clan to tackle the problem of crops with his yin energy talisman/array. i hope you will be able to find it (i know its not enough information 😭) @let-it-be-rainbow

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15. hello im looking for a fic where wen ning shoots an arrow at wrh and it hits him in the eye. i think it's a time travel fic but im not sure. also wn asks wq like uncle isn't a good person, is he. i appreciate the assistance

hello im anon on the latest ff #15. sorry, but it's not the fic i was looking for. i remember it being multiple chapters, also the sunshot campaign did happen. the part where wen ning shot wrh was during the final battle of ssc and he was at a high vantage point with wq away from the fighting

NOT FOUND! 💖 Where The Arrow Points by Nillegible (G, 4k, WN & WQ, WN & WWX, WWX & JC, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, No Sunshot Campaign, Because Um. Wen Ning murders Wen Ruohan, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, really)

SIMILAR The Ghost General by English is my death (Lena013) (T, 5k, WN & WWX, WN & WQ, WN centric, BAMF WN, Time Travel Fix-It, what's a conference without someone killing their uncle?WN murders WRH, WN Lives, Ghost General WN, WN looks into his uncle's eyes before killing him, Fierce Corpse WN, Canon Divergence) Actually, I just read the italicised part of the ask for 15, so my suggestion is definitely not it. But it did have time travel WN killing WRH with an arrow!

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16. Hi I’m looking for a specific fic that I thought I had saved, but alas😑

It’s a ‘watching the memories’ type of fic. With protective Jiang Cheng, Lan Xichen, Lan Zhan and juniors.

Anyway I don’t remember much but what I do remember is that the story is set after guanyin temple and that they watched a memory of wwx going about his birthday alone. Qiren and many others were assholes to wwx who just wanted to spend the day with his husband and son, but was constantly denied and berated.

This in turn lead to JG, LZ and LXC I think being angry and protective on his behalf.

That’s all and thank you for the endless effort you all put into finding all these fic’s. @ravenwithwings

FOUND! Music Heals All Forms Of Misery by idontknowwhatimdoinghalfthetime (T, 63k, WIP, WangXian, Fix-It of Sorts, Songfic, Past Character Death, Heavy Angst, Self-Esteem Issues)

~*~

17. Hi hi! Im looking for an Ao3 fic where WQ and WY go to cloud recessess because theyve negotiated protection for the wen remnants with the Lan Clan. The condition is that WY must be purged of all resentful energy, which he and WQ think will kill him, and they believe the Lan clan knows it. Theres a scene where during the purge Lan Zhan realizies whats happening and asks Wei Ying why he would think the Lan wanted to kill/harm him. Pretty sure its a happy ending, or at least hopeful!

Thanks so much, hope youre all well! @la-voce-to-me

FOUND! decay by antebunny (G, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, the fluffiest ending, Hurt/Comfort)

~*~

18. Hi, I am looking for a Wangxian fic that has a lot of twin jade feels I think its starts after the burning of Recesses where both jades are captured by WX and a lot of bad things happen to LWJ after which he ends up forced to work in a brothel where he meets WWX who came to rescue JWY and maybe JZX from the indoctrination and I also remember that LXC was allowed to visit Lan Zhan but only when he was drugged to sleep and that WX knew that the jades kept in line only cause of the other. It probably followed canon divergence and it was a complete fanfic. the story is pretty hazy in my head so I am hoping someone remembers it. thank you.

FOUND! Alter by Solmae (E, 162k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Gang Rape, Forced Prostitution, PTSD, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Torture)

~*~

19. I remember reading a fic where Wei Wuxian was taken as a prisoner, I think maybe by the Nie, and everyone expected him to practice Inedia while kept captive just for him to become extremely ill from lack of food, revealing his lack of golden core. Everyone freaks out a bit

FOUND? ❤️ whipstitch by curiositykilled (M, 131k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Torture, WWX Lives, but basically no one else, Case Fic, Cultivation Sect Politics, Past Abuse, WWX Whump, YL WWX, JL Needs a Hug, JL Tries, Yunmeng Bro Reconciliation, Past Character Death, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, POV Alternating, Flashbacks, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Depression, Not A Fix-It, Mouth Sewn Shut)

~*~

20. Hi👋🏽

I love looking through your fic-finder posts and discovering ‘new’ fics to read !

I’m trying to find a fic taking place after the SunShot Campaign, where WWX takes the role of a Jiang Elder instead of Head Disciple. I’ve tried looking for it by AO3’s filter but was only able to find a similar fic series - Rest of Resolution by MarbleGlove.

Details: WWX somehow fools the JGS into thinking WWX is older than he actually is (Lan Qiren is in on the joke too). @animewatching

FOUND? Like a Water-Worn Stone by meyari (T, 41k, wangxian, major character death, Hurt/Comfort, very little hurt, lots of comfort, Chronic Illness, Serious Injuries, Self-Medication, Disability, PTSD, Depression, Self-Worth Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aftermath of war, Aftermath of Violence, Prisoner of War, Identity Issues, Warning: Jīn Guāngshàn, enslavement (discussion of), abuse (discussion of), actually very fluffy despite the warnings)

FOUND? Elder, an Aesthetic by MarbleGlove (G, 8k, JC & WWX, Fix-It, Post-Sunshot Campaign)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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gulliblelemon · 6 months

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Young Royals Fic Recommendations 2

I have been reading even more fan fiction recently so I thought I'd do another (even longer) favourites list. My first one is here if you're interested! Some are newer fics, but some are also from a while ago that I've only just got round to reading (I have a bit of a chaotic system - sorry!)

(I’ve included tumblr usernames if I know them, someone let me know if I’ve missed any and I'll add them in).

obviously by grapehyasynth @grapehyasynth 124k words. Complete. Rating: M Normal People AU. Wille and Simon meet at school and start a secret relationship. The story follows their lives as they change and grow and meet again.

The road not taken looks real good now by stretchoutandwait @stretchoutfics 90k words. Complete. Rating: E Twenty two years after season 1, King Wilhelm has a wife and three kids and doesn't expect to see Simon again - until he does. (Honourable mention to Ex by the same author).

Protected by bastuba 44k words. Complete. Rated: M Wille has moved to New York for Uni. Simon is assigned as his new bodyguard. (The story has been expanded in one shots, my favourite of which is Interview).

Fuck The Monarchy by itsme_hi_imtheproblem @iwouldnevergetintofanfic 68k words. Complete. Rating: E Simon and Wille meet when they both intern at the Riksdag. (Honourable mention to I love the way you lie by the same author).

Almost Is Never Enough by this_time_its_just_me @in-amor-veritas 138k words. WIP. Rating: E Non-royal AU. Simon meets Wille again years after school when he starts a job at Wille's place of work. (Honourable mention to We Left Footprints When We Passed By by the same author).

you can stay by origamifrogs @princewillesothermom 23k words. Complete. Rating: E. Non-royal AU. Wille and Simon shared a childhood treehouse. Snapshots of their lives together.

No Tomorrow by p_brown 31k words. Complete. Rating: M Wille loses his memory of his and Simon's break up. Simon is called to help him remember the last few years.

Can We Just Pretend? by scissorsandstone 9k words. Complete. Rating: E Simon POV for the curtains scene in S2E5 (Simon is more conflicted than in canon).

Better With You by Spidaya @simons-purplehoodie 52k words. Complete. Rating: M Non-royal AU. Simon works as Wille's assistant at a music production company.

You Are Unbreaking by unfortunate17 @unfortunate17 38k words. Complete. Rating: E Medieval AU where Simon marries Wille in the hope of assassinating him. (Honourable mention to Stairway To Heaven by the same author)

Ace Of Hearts by Whiterabbit11 14k words. Complete. Rating: G Outsider POV vignettes of Wilmon through their Hillerska years.

perhaps more by willesworld @willesworld 28k words. Complete. Rating: T Non-royal AU. Wilhelm and Simon meet at an intensive summer program for aspiring writers.

i will, tonight by witchjeons @pleuvian 27k words. Complete. Rating: E Simon and Wilhelm meet in an antique store.

like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky 1.5k words. Complete. Rating: G Young Simon is infatuated with Young Prince Wilhelm on the TV. (Also has a lovely sequel).

finding home by Elin98 @ishotforthestars 19k words. WIP. Rating: G Prince Wilhelm disappears. Simon is trying to get on with his life.

I would drive on (to the end with you) by ceramicclown (@glassdollls) 90k words. WIP 11/15 chapters. Not rated. Non-royal AU. Simon and Wille meet at Hillerska, Simon offers to drive Wilhelm when his car breaks. They strike a deal to pretend to date.

#yr fic rec #young royals fic rec #yr fanfic #young royals fanfic #yr fanfiction #young royals fanfiction #young royals #young royals fanfic rec #lemon recommends

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

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Fic and Drabble Masterlist

Drabbles, Headcanons, and Ficlets

Tumblr Drabbles | AO3

Headcanon/Drabble Asks / Headcanon/Drabble Asks Part 2

Tumblr Requests (Rated Teen+) | Tumblr Requests (Rated M) | Tumblr Requests (Explicit) | Tumblr Requests AO3

Steddie Microfic Prompts

PDF/Google Drive Links

Birthday Fics

Chaptered Fics

call me sunshine, send me to space | E | complete | 89,621 words | AO3 Fanart by inklessletter Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / epilogue / Bonus Buckingham Chapter

little nuggets series | E | complete | 82,712 words | AO3 One Little Nugget / Two Little Nuggets / Three (Or Four) Little Nuggets / Five Little Nuggets / Six-ish Little Nuggets

it led me to you | E | complete | 44,219 words | AO3 Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

the only time i feel human is when i'm in bed with you | E | complete | 28,150 words | AO3 Art by GriefAbyss69 Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / epilogue

this place is such great motivation for anyone trying to move the fuck away from hibernation | E | wip | AO3 Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

PLEASE READ: Many of my drabbles and fics can be considered Teen and Up in substance, but I choose to rate them Mature to hopefully keep minors from interacting. If you are under 18, please DNI. I am saying this for your own good. Also, I am 29 and you will find me very, very boring. People your age will be much cooler than me and things they write will be much more relatable. I still hope you find your fun in fandom and when you are an adult, I hope you find your way back here! :)

Posting Schedule (subject to change, check for updates)

I now have a Ko-Fi! Please consider leaving a tip if you're able, it helps fund Liam's hockey expenses!

#steddie #ao3fic #myfic #tumblr drabbles #masterlist #steve harrington #eddie munson #headcanons

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epicbuddieficrecs · 1 month

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Weekly Recap | March 11th-17th 2024

That premiere guys!!!!! Was so good!!!!! I'm so excited to be FINALLY be a part of the fandom while the show is actually airing! 😃 Can't wait to read all the amazing fics that are gonna be spawned from season 7!

Speaking of that, I would like to encourage everyone to use the relevant Ao3 tags when writing fics based on S7 content! Not everyone can watch the episodes as they air, so tags are really essential for people who don't want to get spoiled! (I could even make a separate post about it? a sort-of "how to tag" post?). In case you want to block some tumblr tags, my main tags for S7 are #911 season 7, #911 on abc, or #911 spoilers.

(Posting this one day early cause I don't feel like waiting until tomorrow! Enjoy! 😆)

Complete

i find peace in your smile by goforeddie/@iltrpls (A/B/O AU | 1K | General): They’ve been courting for a few months now. It’s agonizingly slow, but it’s still the best time they’ve ever had. You might think that after six years of walking on eggshells around each other, half a decade of “will-they-won’t-they” they wouldn’t be taking such a slow time with courting, but it's precisely everything that they’ve been through that makes them appreciate things a little better.

Birthday Flowers by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Pre-Buddie | 2K | General): OR: Buck gets Eddie flowers for his birthday.

🔥 if i need to rearrange my particles — i will for you. by dylaesthetics (Post-S6, Identity Porn | 45K | Teen): OR Buck joins a support app for first responders and matches with a firefighter who has PTSD and a kid who likes giraffes, apparently.

Lime Jell-O by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (S7E01: Abandon 'Ships | 3K | Teen): Eddie Diaz didn't panic. Or, well... Maybe he did. Sometimes. But he was working on it.

take the bed warmed by the body by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): It’s three parts bravado and one part reminder. He thinks about it, sometimes, his first shift at the 118—he doesn’t think either of them quite knew how much they’d meant it when they’d promised to have each other’s backs. He definitely hadn’t known, then, that he’d wake up one day and wonder why Buck isn’t in his bed. Because that’s what’s missing. He has a vague memory of falling asleep with his head resting against Buck’s shoulder, their legs tangled together.

Taken Space by Wildgirl93/ @wildlife4life (S7E01 Coda | 1K | General): Eddie and Marisol talk about the space that has already been taken.

Feel Like I Landed On The Moon by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Canon Divergent | 1K | General): OR: Eddie is pining for Buck while in Texas.

Fractals from the Lightning Bolt by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (One Shots Collection | 98K | Not Rated): A collection of oneshots, some originally posted on tumblr. Each chapter is individually rated.

53. A Dream You've Had Before (Explicit) 54. We're Definitely All Sluts Here (Explicit)

if you love someone by chronicallystendan (Pre-Buddie | 1K | General): Buck and Eddie both internally panic when a song comes on the radio that seems to be talking directly to them.

adventures of firehose and eightpack by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Social Media fic | 1,5K | Mature): Or: Eddie stumbles upon Buck's old twitter account.

Two, Three Times in a Row by Leslie_Knope (PWP | 6K | Explicit): “We could’ve gone again.” Eddie snorts. “I’m old. You expect me to get it up twice?” “Yes,” Buck says, like it’s a given, like duh. “I could get you to do it right now.” The entire world pauses, and Eddie actually feels it, the bolt of arousal slinking down his spine all the way to his toes. He wets his lips. “Right now?”

WIP

🔥 miracles under your sighs and moans by napricot (Sex Pollen, PWP | 1/2 | 13K | Explicit): When Eddie gets exposed to an experimental aphrodisiac on a call, he realizes there’s only one person he trusts to help him get through it: Buck.

🔥 because we'll all arrive in heaven alive by callmenewbie/ @puppyboybuckley (Post-S6, Disaster Fic | 9/10 | 63K | Explicit): During a search and rescue, Eddie disappears without a trace, leaving Buck to grapple with the sudden possibility of a life without him.

if you know anyone that is not tagged, please tag them in the comments!

#buddie #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfiction #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #epic buddie fic rec

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zialltops · 4 months

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

After four years away at collage, you’re finally home with the tools and knowledge to save your family ranch. That is, if their ranch hand would stay out of your way.

Or: Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky little attitude, or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: howdy ya’ll! This chapter took me a HOT minute to finish because i’ve been severely sick (if you’ve been on this ride with me since esos you know i struggle with my health) but it’s finally here! I cant thank everyone enough for reading and as much as I wish i could hear from you guys more often, i’m just going to keep writing along and hope someone likes it! The smallest interactions bring me so much joy.

Masterlink

ao3 link | spotify playlist

Chapter 5: On My Way To You

He’s never been more humiliated in his entire fucking life. Never—not ever, has he ever felt this embarrassed about someone seeing him naked. He’s been shot down mid alleyway make-out when she’d pressed too close and felt it. He’s been left in a hotel room when he had a woman naked under him and he finally pulled his pants down. Hell—he’s been told it hurts, asked to stop—asked to leave. But never has it made his heart pound and his cheeks stain red, never made him wheeze from anxiety and dread.

He didn’t mean for it to happen—he’s been doing his best to avoid you, give you the space you want, but you’ve been nicer lately and it makes him want to get closer, test those waters and get to know you, but the second he lets himself start to give in, his body goes full force and he has to get away. Today was a hard day for him because he’d been up late the night before trying to rewire a break in the fence that let out three heifers and the little calf you’d saved on Christmas.

He’d crashed hard last night and woke up too late to work himself over before starting his day—it usually helps him keep his cool, but today he spent two hours hours in the saddle of one of Hank’s horses, moving the heifers getting ready to calf to a smaller pasture, the older steer that were about to be sold off from last years calves to a quarantine pen. It was mindless and easy and Joel spent the whole time thinking about you and your pretty eyes and the way you still wear that necklace every day, like you haven’t even thought to take it off.

By the time he stops by the house for something to drink, he’s already spent half his morning picturing you in every position possible—real like he’s never had it before. He’s smack dab in the middle of one of his favorite fantasies, one where you’re going down on him, fully aware of what’s under his belt buckle and wranglers. You’d be so sweet to him, make him feel desirable without feeling like a chore. You’d kiss the length of him over his denim, drag his pants down his thighs and you wouldn’t gasp in shock. You’d want him—your mouth would water for him and you’d give him those pouty lips and bright eyes when you finally run your tongue from base to tip—it would be perfect—

“Morning Joel.”

He’s so caught up in his vision of you in his head he’s completely unprepared for this version, with berries smeared on the corner of your mouth, like the jam is just too sweet for you to leave untasted—you’re swimming in a sweater too big for you and christ he hates when you wear legging, hugging every curve of your body, filling in the shape of your body like a shadow. He does his best to form a sentence, keep himself from staring at the necklace chain he can see poking out of your collar. you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it.

When you lick the spoon clean, his stomach hits the floor and his head spin’s suddenly from loss of blood as everything warm and tingly in his body travels south. He knows he has to get out of there, doesn’t have time to stand here for another second if he wants to keep what's going on in his pants to himself.

He’ll kick himself later for not giving you an excuse to run off, but he doesn’t have a choice in the matter right now. He practically runs for the barn, the small bathroom inside is a well learned friend, where he can rub one out fast and get it out of his hungry system. His body is famished, starved for your skin and he isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.

He gets his pants down as fast as he can, spits in his hand and starts quick. God, the way you’d looked at him when he walked in there, like you were happy to see him for once, glad to share his company—if only he wasn’t such a complete piece of shit who can't take a kind gesture for just that.

He sees your smile and he wants to dig his hands into the meat of your ass and hoist you up. Wants to hold you down and take you apart with his mouth. Your eyes meet his and he wants to watch them roll back when you take all of him, like no one ever has, ever will but he can let himself imagine it in this tiny bathroom that smells like livestock and dirt. He can imagine the way you’d want it, want him. The way you’d tell him how good he felt, how good he made you feel despite what he’s always been told about himself.

Just a few more—a couple more tugs and he’s almost there, so fucking close to the thought of your body and his, and…and…

The next thing he knows your eyes are on him, then tick down to his hand wrapped around himself like the pathetic man he knows he is. He’ll never forget the way you looked at him, the way you told him how traumatized you were to see him like that, he’s sure it would have hurt less if you’d stabbed him in the heart with a dull knife.

He fucking runs back to the cabin and get’s himself under a cold shower, trying to keep his hair from getting wet so you don’t know while his body takes a shock to its system, flushing out the desire and replacing it for his shame. When he’s red and shaking from the cold, he re-dresses and heads back towards the house. The longer he hides, the more likely you are to piece together the odd string of occurrences surrounding his disappearances. The longer he waits, the more guilty he looks, so he forces himself up the stairs, trying his best to catch his breath outside of the door until he finally has the gull to knock. He knows you’re in there, he can faintly hear something, soft little sounds that he can't quite make out, so he calls your name when the small rasps don’t catch your attention.

He nearly leaves when the door finally comes open, and…fuck if you aren’t a sight for his painfully sore eyes. You’re red all over, stunning, breathing hard with wide eyes like you’ve been caught at something. Maybe you have, he can imagine, maybe you were touching yourself—thinking about him. It's a futile dream, but he lets himself have it anyways.

No matter how much he runs, how much he tries his hardest to stay away, everything you do ropes him in and hog ties him up, unable and unwilling to be moved until you’ve decided what to do with him now that everything he is, is yours.

It’s shame that keeps him from embarrassing himself again once he drives into town, because the way you press against him in the truck makes his skin boil. He doesn’t deserve to have you beside him after what you’d been forced to witness, but that doesn’t stop him. He wants to slip his hand along your thigh, wishes Tommy wasn’t sitting beside you and he could stuff his hand down the front of your leggings and show you a thing or two—he knows he’s good with his hands—his mouth, he has to be if he wants to get a woman off. He wants to show you exactly what he could do for you, to you, but he keeps his mouth closed and taps his fingers against the steering wheel the whole way. It’s infuriating, how much you get along with Tommy now, who’s been nothing but crude to you, making passes at you left and right and god help him, you let him. He wants you to talk to him like that too, he wants to make you laugh, make you giggle and blush prettily.

But he just loads the truck. Watches when you and Tommy snicker over a bottle of whiskey he knows he can't touch because last time he made a fool of himself. He tries not to intrude on your space, tries not to bother you and Tommy around the fire later after he’s done unloading the truck alone. Not even Tommy helps him around here anymore, too far up your ass that he’s damn near useless.

He watches from the window like a fucking creep, trying not to work himself up over the way you smile at his brother, the way you throw your head back laughing at something stupid he probably said. He wants that to be him, sitting beside you with whiskey making him bold, faking it for him since he doesn’t have the ability to just talk to you. He’s sure he’d tell you everything, how beautiful he thinks you are, how much smarter than him you are. He’d probably tell you how many times he’s thought about you with his hands wrapped around himself, in the dark of his room with your name on his lips.

He doesn’t do any of that, instead he watches you from the window and lets his heart ache and pound until he sees the way Tommy lingers closer, touches your leg absently and you let him. He has to put a stop to this, so he tracks out into the cold and tries to put his foot down. Maybe Tommy will go to bed, you’ll let him walk you home and it will be so cold that you’ll ask him to stay again. But before he has a second to beg you otherwise, you’re kissing his brother.

You��re kissing his brother instead of him and he can't watch for another second, so he hightails it inside and slams his bedroom door behind himself. He can usually hear right through Tommy’s wall, but he holds his hands over his ears and tries his hardest to keep the sound of his ragged breaths from making it through the walls. At some point, he falls asleep, wishing you were laying right beside him, sprawled out, satisfied and spent with the shape of his teeth on your shoulder.

When he wakes in the morning, it’s not even close to sun up yet. He has a long day ahead of him, has to ride up to the north pasture, acres upon acres of beautiful pine covered land, but Joel has to ensure that the streams aren’t frozen over if he wants to move the heifers and their calves there soon. He gets dressed with a ache in his bones that he knows didn’t come from his age, his stomach is in knots because he knows what's been done, he knows he can’t change it—that he might not ever stand a chance with you now that you’ve been with him. Women always preferred Tommy over him, all the same cowboy charm with a bit more confidence.

He slips on his boots and places his hat on his head before lingering in the hallway for a long moment. He stares at Tommys door and imagines you sleeping on the other side of it. Did you like it? Do you like him?

He turns and starts down the hallways when the door comes open with a slow creak. He turns back around in the dark light of the hallway and, there you are wearing one of Tommy’s shirts and nothing else, your hair is mused and you have this look on your face, one that reeds shame and worry and for what Joel just can't quite put his finger on. You don’t say anything for a long time, just Joel and you and the fading darkness outside, your eyes tracking over him with a shiny hue to them.

“Where are you going?” Where is he going is the first thing you have to say to him? Like he climbed out of your bed and snuck off. “I uhm…I have a long ride up to the north field, thought I would get a early start on it.” He clears his throat and glances down at his boots, then back up at you. “Though I should give ya’ll some space, no one wants their brother listenin’ in.”

He starts to turn away again because he can’t look at you for another second when he knows you have his saliva on your skin and the shapes of his hands on your body.

“Can I come with you?” Go with him? You want to go with him when there’s a warm body waiting for you in a warm bed, where you can hide from the cold world, the impending darkness and a man like him. “You want to go? Why?” You close the bedroom door behind you like you don't want to wake Tommy and it makes Joel’s heart pound out of his chest for reasons it shouldn’t. “I don't know, it’s cold out there, you’re uhm…you’re naked.”

He tries, really tries to keep his eyes off your bare thighs, the shirt hanging off your frame and your sock-less feet on the hardwood. “I’m not naked, I have underwear on,” you lift one side of the shirt like you have to prove it to him and his eyes track to the black lace hugging your hips. Saliva builds in his mouth and he clears his throat, needing to turn away from you again. “If you want to come you should probably put some clothes on, I’ll meet you in the stable.” He starts to gather up his things, a light and his phone, trying to make himself busy so he can get away. “Well, will you wait for me—I don’t want to walk alone.” And Joel doesn’t want to do this right now, walk with you for a half mile back to the stables, sit beside you, wondering if it aches sitting in the saddle because his brother fucked you.

But he waits anyway, fiddles with the brim of his hat while he sits on the couch in silence as he waits for you to get dressed. You come out in your clothes from the night before, bundled up in a big jacket with your hair tied back. He tells himself not to think about it and heads towards the door. The walk to the stables is nearly silent, but the pounding in his ears drowns out the awkwardness in the interaction. How can he stop thinking about it? How you slept with him but dragged yourself out of bed to follow Joel into the cold? How you would trade a warm body for Joel’s cold shoulder?

“Need help with your saddle?” His voice feels raw from not using it, his hands aching from the cold while he cinches up the girth strap. This time next year, hell be saddling up Cersi to take this trip, he cant wait, but for now he’ll ride Hanks sturdy horse through the mud and snow. “I’ve got it, thank you.” There's no snap in your tone like he expects there to be and you work with him in unison, getting your mounts ready while the sun starts to climb into the atmosphere. By the time he gets out of the barn, you’re smiling at him. Smiling from your spot in the saddle with the reigns in your hands like you’re made for that.

“You ready to get a move on, cowboy?” His chest tightens at the way you gaze at him, wondering if you’d given Tommy that same look the night before. He wants to pretend it was all for him, pretend that you’re looking at him like that because you see something you haven’t before.

“You ready, cowgirl? When's the last time you were in a saddle?” He tries his damndest to keep his tone light as he hooks a foot in the stirrup and hoists himself up. “Been a couple years, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget how to ride.”

Did you practice last night? He shakes his head and wills away the image. He doesn’t think he'll be able to stop thinking about it for the rest of the ride, he can’t get the image of your mouth on his out of his head no matter how much he tries. It’s always fucking Tommy. He’s always been the favored brother, no matter how much of a fuck up he is. He’s always been the one to get the girl, the popular one in school, hell even his wife—

“You okay in there cowboy?”

Your voice comes like a shock to his system, snapping him out of another unpleasant memory. “Huh?” He looks around until he lays eyes on you, riding beside him with your hands resting on the horn of the saddle. “I was asking if you’re okay…you’ve been really quiet for the past half hour.” Half an hour? It's been a half hour since he started this ride? “Yeah, no, sorry. I have a lot on my mind, is all.” You pick up the pace beside him a little, till your horses are walking alongside each-other on the path. “Anything you want to talk about?”

He sits on the words for a second. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not particularly—but its you and your asking him and fuck, he wants you to get to know him. Maybe if you knew who he was, maybe if he had a chance to explain why he’s like this you might change your mind.

“I was thinkin’ ‘bout my ex-wife.” He keeps his eyes ahead of him, because he doesn’t want to see the look on your face when you hear that, that he had a whole other life away from this place. “My mom told me you had an ex-wife. She didn’t tell me what happened.”

You knew? He’d told Hank and Louise a lot about his life, he had to if he wanted them to trust him. He wasn’t a bad man, just a burdened one. “We uh…we had a rocky marriage. Got together young, right out of high school. I was learning to work a cattle ranch and I thought I would be able to give her a good life but—she wanted more, I suppose. Started steppin’ out on me. She got pregnant by another man, but I still didn’t leave. Helped raise that little girl like she was my own.”

He thinks about Sarah and her curly hair that definitely didn’t come from him or her mom, her sweet smile, her first day of school—all the things he missed.

“What made you finally leave?” Your voice is so quiet beside him. He looks over at you under the brim of his hat and sighs. “She slept with Tommy. Came home from picking up Sarah from school and I…caught ‘em together in bed. Tommy said he did it because he wanted to prove to me that she wasn’t any good for me but, I don’t know, I’ve never been very good and stayin’ angry at him.”

Your eyes look far away in that moment, like you’re clouded in some kind of guilt, maybe because you’d slept with Tommy, too. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Joel.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head absently. “Ain’t no thing. I’m used to it by now, he’s always had a way with ‘em that I never had.”

He has, Joel can't even recall every encounter he’s had with a woman that ended with them leaving with his brother. Hell, it had been five years since the last time he’d (kind of) had sex, no thanks to his cockblocker of a brother. The first time in years since he’s felt more than just attraction to a woman and Tommy takes that from him too.

“We should get a move on, we don’t have all day and I have a lot to do when I get back.”

He digs his heal in and the horse picks up speed and to his surprise, you keep gate with him along the trail.

When he gets to the gate of the north pasture, his ass hurts from being in the saddle and his face feels wind chapped, but you don’t complain about a lick of it, like you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now. “Joel?” He’s closing the gate behind you when you call his name. It makes him look up from the latch. “Yeah?” He gets it in place and mounts his horse again, adjusting his hat on his head. “I’m really sorry, about how I treated you when I first came home.”

Fuck do you have to do this right now? Out here, where he has nowhere to run off to? “You're not the one who needs to be sorry. I never should have done half the things I did to you. I didn’t even know you and I assumed the worst of you. Should’ve never done any of that to you.” He never should have left you in the cold, never should have treated you any differently than anyone else because he thought you came from somewhere that didn’t like folks like him when he really likes girls like you. So smart and put together, so capable and confident.

“We got off on a bad foot, I suppose…do you think maybe we could…start over?”

You want to start over? With him? give him a second shot to not fuck this up again? Or maybe you don’t mean it like that, like he desperately wants it to mean, even if you fucked his brother last night, he doesn’t care, he’d take his sloppy seconds any day because it’s you.

“I’d really like that.” There's a sweet kind of shimmer in your eyes when you smile at him, rosey cheeks and a crinkle by your kind eyes. His sight ticks down to your chest, where he can see the necklace he’d given you sticking out of the top. You’re still wearing it, had you worn it last night? When he laid you down on his cold sheets while Joel wished desperately it was his?

Despite the pang in his chest, the rest of the ride is easy and light, you talk about nothing and absolutely everything, your favorite color, your favorite time of the year, Joel tells you how much he loves the spring and you excitedly agree, going on and on about watching the world come back to life.

You tell him about college, how out of place you felt surrounded by people who were so different from you. How nervous you were for the first year, but you’d made a best friend out of your room mate Mel, and you finally got the hang of it in your second year.

He tells you about drifting from place to place because Tommy usually stirs up some trouble and runs them out of town. He tells you about all the times he’s had to save his ass to your parents and how much he’s tried to hang on to the one good place he’s had in so long. He could talk to you for hours, all day if you’d let him, and you do. You hold his conversations like you’re a pair of old friends, catching up after years spent apart.

He’s so lost in you that he doesn’t even realize you’re back home until the house comes into view. He’s spent so much time immersing himself in talking to you that he’s completely lost track of where he is, letting the miles blow past him. It’s mid day and he still has a lot to do and he can tell you’re starting to get sore in the saddle. “I’ll get them cooled down, you should probably get some rest. You couldn’t of gotten much sleep last night.” He swings his leg over and climbs off the horse before taking yours by the halter so you can do the same. “Thank you for today…it’s been a while since I’ve had a good reason to ride.” You give him one of those smiles again and it takes everything in him not to lean in and kiss you because of it. He’s wanted to kiss you all damn day, slide his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull and hold on tight, slot his lips over yours and breathe you in deep until he can’t let you go again.

He doesn’t and you head off towards the house while he looks on. He watches till you make it inside and then some before getting back to his chores.

Work consumes the entirety of his day, until the sun sets and it starts to get dark and chilly when he’s finally got the animals fed and the equipment locked up. He knows Tommy is back at the cabin because he dropped off a plate of dinner to Joel in the stable on his way home. He’s about to start the walk back to the cabin himself when he hears the creak of the screen door on the house just across the yard. He closes the barn door behind himself and follows the sounds. You’re standing on the porch in a pair of sleep shorts and slippers, a tee-shirt that's too big and a nervous look on your face. You don't say anything, but Joel’s feet carry him to the steps, then up them one at a time, carefully and painfully slow, like he might spook you away if he moves too quickly. The wind is absolutely howling right now, whipping your hair around and cinching your shirt tight against your frame.

He hits the landing and takes a few more steps forward, until he’s a foot away from your shaking form, your big pretty eyes that are searching every corner of his. He should say something, he should say how much he enjoyed today, how much he wants to do it again and again and again.

“I didn’t have sex with him.”

It’s not what he expected you to say standing out here in this unforgiving cold, but its the best damn thing he’s heard you say all day. It feels like an endless weight coming off his shoulders and he lets out a loud gush of air he didn’t know he was holding. “What?” You puff your chest out a little, like you’re trying to get a point across to him. “I didn't have sex with Tommy last night.” You say it so matter of factly.

“Why didn’t you?” He reaches up and pushes his hat up a little, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His heart is pounding, his limbs shaking at the admission. “You know why.”

All at once, his pounding heart comes to a staggering stop, standing there on the porch looking down at you while he tries to keep himself upright. He doesn’t know why but the way you're looking at him now tells him there's something else here besides anger and hatred and shared distaste. You didn’t sleep with Tommy, because on the other side of that wall you were wanting him just as desperately as he wanted you.

“It’s cold out here…do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

Joel’s bottom lip quivers so much he has to suck it into his mouth to make it stop, bite down on it to put it at ease. “Yeah, I…I’d like that.”

A warm little hand finds his, tentative fingers intertwined with his while you lead him inside of the house. You don’t take him upstairs, Joel doesn’t expect you to. You lead him to the couch and he sits down, kicking off his boots when you reach up for his hat. You set it on the arm rest beside him and grab a blanket off the back of the couch when he lays himself back on the pillow.

His body aches, his eyes feel heavy, but he doesn’t dare close them when he’s got an angel standing right before his eyes. “Goodnight, Cowboy.” You hum sweetly, lean down and press your lips against the apple of his cheek, more delicate than he’s ever been touched before in his entire fucking life.

When you pull away, those same cheeks are painted pink and he does his best not to grin too stupidly. “Goodnight, Cowgirl.”

You take the stairs up to your room but Joel rides the elevator to heaven from his spot on the living room couch.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #archive of our own #joel tlou #cowboy joel miller #rancher joel miller #slow burn joel miller

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tieronecrush · 10 months

Text

hot & heavy

chapter eight: up north

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 11k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), polite southern manners, feeling familial and self-pressure, undefined relationship, likely poor spanish grammar, pining joel, fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, soft soft soft joel, sprinkle of possessive joel, Big Feelings

a/n: end of another summer of these two </3 this is the longest chapter by far but i hope you all love it!

h&h will be taking about a 2ish week break so i can catch up on requests and some other WIPs before we start the final summer!

i must say a huge THANK YOU to el @northernbluess for beta reading this behemoth chapter & previous chapters and always screaming about joel & mariposa with me. my sister wife/shared brain cell/sweet, sweet girlfriend (always willing to be the oscar to your pedro) 🥰

ok i will shush now, enjoy xxx

TO: Mariposa

Hey sweetheart, gonna head over to pick up Sarah now

Are you girls out of the pool?

Yep! Brushing Sarah’s hair out with some leave-in conditioner, got really tangled when we were swimming

Door’s open if you wanna come in :)

Joel deposits his phone into the pocket of his jeans before he steps out of his front door and walks across the grass to yours. He opens your front door and steps in, waiting in the entryway after announcing that he was inside.

You peek your head out from upstairs, looking down at him and smiling.

“Hey, stranger,” you bound downstairs, jerking a thumb behind you where you came from, “I’ve got a bunch of old childhood stuff like stuffed animals and dolls and books that I need to get rid of before the move so Sarah’s looking through everything in my room. I hope it’s alright that I told her to take what she wanted—”

Joel closes the gap between you and grins, shaking his head as he reaches a hand out to wrap around your waist. He pulls you closer with a gentle tug, kissing you sweetly.

When he pulls away, he leans in for one quick peck, rubbing his thumb in circles on your hip.

“Sorry, interrupted you…” He says with a laugh as you roll your eyes playfully.

“Yeah, how rude of you,” you kiss him one more time before continuing, “Anyways, I told her to take whatever she wanted. Not sure if you will be going home with a few things or all of it, so I apologize if it doubles the amount of stuffies that she already has.”

“It’s alright, Mariposa. No harm in her having something or a bunch of things from her favorite nanny,” he rubs your back as you turn to walk back upstairs, him close behind, “My favorite nanny, too.”

A hand dropped to your ass, he squeezes it while you climb the stairs ahead of him, chuckling softly at you reaching back to swat his hand away.

“Alright, hands to yourself, Miller,” you scold before walking down the hall into your room; he follows and smiles wide when Sarah looks up at him from a pile of stuffed animals around her.

“Daddy! Posey’s giving me some of her stuffies, and books, and dolls cause she’s the bestest. Should I take the blue elephant or the bunny with floppy ears?” She holds up both options for him to consider and Joel steps further into the room toward her, squatting down to look at them closely.

“Oh goodness, I’m not sure, Bug. They’re both very cute,” he rubs his chin as he thinks, a low hum as he looks between the two options, “I would say the bunny. How about you?”

Sarah grins and nods, setting down the elephant toy and holding the bunny against her chest, “I like it, too. Does the bunny have a name already, Posey?”

“Oh! Hmm, let’s see him…” you walk over to her and Joel, kneeling on your carpet next to him. Joel fidgets with his fingers, itching to reach out for you when you’re sitting that close. He keeps his hands on his knees, running his hands over the worn denim and focusing on the feeling of it against his palms instead of the warmth radiating off of you, the smell of the chlorine mixing with your perfume that he wants to lick off of your skin, the soft cotton of the oversized shirt that he wants to rest his cheek against as he lays with you.

God, all he wants is you. All the time.

“Now that I think about it, I think this bunny was one of my favorites when I was your age. I think I had decided he was a boy, and I named him Flopsy. You don’t have to keep that same name, sweet pea. I’m sure he would love whatever you wanna call him,” you grin and shrug your shoulders to her, picking up a different toy that sits in front of you.

“I don’t wanna call him anything different. I don’t want him to forget about you, Posey, so I wanna call him what you named him so he always thinks about you.”

Joel looks over to you as Sarah gets distracted going through your old Barbies and babydolls; your hand is pressed against your chest as you set the toy back on the floor, your other hand reaching up to swipe under your eyes. When you turn to face him, he offers you a sympathetic look that you respond to with a sad smile, tears in your eyes. You stand up, using his shoulder for support, and move to retreat to the hallway to give yourself a moment. He covers your hand at his shoulder with his, squeezing and giving you silent comfort before your touch slips away from him.

It’s another moment before he asks Sarah to wrap up with her decisions; he helps her gather everything she chose, slipping it all into a bag that you’ve lent her to transport her new belongings back to their house. He picks Sarah up as she yawns, holding her up with one arm and grabbing the bag in his other hand. One deep breath and he smells the same product that you use in your hair, pressing his head into his daughter’s hair to take it in entirely and giving her a kiss at the crown of her head. It constricts his heart in his chest, a reminder of your imprint on his life. Maybe it’s strange, but he makes a mental note to get the same product for Sarah the next time he’s at the store.

Joel and Sarah walk out of your room and meet you in the upstairs hallway. When you turn around at the sound of his footsteps, he can see the dried tear tracks and desperately wants to wrap you up in his other arm, to hold you there and do anything he could to make you feel better.

That same butterfly that normally stirs each time he looks at you drops from his chest to his stomach, the fluttering of wings turning into rolling waves of anxiety. He hates that feeling, one he hasn’t felt around you ever — it’s been there before you, and when you were away, but each time he has had you around, one smile or touch or even just a look quells his panic. His vision always tunnels on you, everything else that was affecting him falling away.

This moment though, it has the opposite effect. His tunnel vision on you spurs the rush of worry, seeping dread in between his ribs and making his chest cave in.

Without knowing what to do to help you, he clears his throat and speaks plaintively, “We’re gonna head out, Mariposa. Sarah’s got her haul here.” He holds up the bag a few inches, a benign smile that doesn’t reach his eyes passed to you.

A silent question exchange between the two of you with his eyes:

Are you okay?

To which you reply with a forced smile, still beautiful but not nearly as breathtaking as your genuine one.

“Bet you got all the good stuff, Sare-Bear. You’ve gotta tell me how all your new friends like your original stuffy buddies,” you guide them downstairs and Joel lingers in the door with Sarah, thanking you again for watching her and giving her some hand-me-downs to play with and read. You wave off his thanks and watch from the doorway as he crosses your lawn to his, the click of the door heard behind him.

Sarah speaks up from her head on his shoulder, her innocent tone asking him curious questions, “Why is Posey moving away from her house and her parents?”

Joel hikes her up in his arms, debating in his head on how to answer.

“Well, she got an adult job that she has to move for. She really wanted to do that specific job, and it’s far away from home, so she has to move.”

“What is her job?”

“You know when you see posters or billboards or commercials that sell things? Posey’s gonna be the one who comes up with all those ideas on how to sell those things.”

“That’s cool. I hope she gets to make one for Bratz or Strawberry Shortcake,” she picks up her head and looks at Joel as he opens the front door, “Is Posey gonna come visit before summer is over?”

“No, I’m sorry, mija. Posey can’t come back for a while, her job wants her to be around to learn all the things she needs to know for her job so she can’t take any days off like Daddy can sometimes.”

Sarah sighs and her shoulders fall, holding onto Joel’s shoulders as he brings her up to the bathroom to get the shower ready for her to wash off the chlorine.

“Can I talk to her when she’s gone? Like on the phone?”

“I’m not sure, Bug. I guess I would have to see if Posey’s okay with that. I’ll ask her; is that okay?”

When he sets her down, he sees the slight disappointment from his answer, clearly wanting an immediate yes to stifle her nerves about her nanny moving away.

“Well, aren’t you gonna call her, Daddy? Cause you’re friends? I can talk to her after you do,” she stands straighter, proud of her problem-solving skills and it twists his heart in his chest even more than the sight of you crying.

“Oh, mija, I don’t know…”

“I know what you can do! There is this boy named Luke in my class that told my friend Katie that he liked her and now they’re boyfriend and girlfriend and they spend every recess together. If you ask Posey to be your girlfriend, maybe then she would stay and hang out with us all the time!”

Is it possible for something to be incredibly adorable and incredibly tormenting at the same time?

How is he meant to answer that?

Why is his kid so perceptive? He was never this smart.

God damn him for actually trying to raise this kid well.

He kneels on the bathroom tile in front of her, making himself eye level with his daughter as he struggles to find an answer that will make sense to her unjaded mind.

“Mija, mi princesa, you are so smart. That is a very good idea, but I’m not sure if that would work for us. When you get older, it isn’t as easy to spend time with people cause life gets busy or people have to make hard decisions to move away or break up, like Mommy and I did when you were very, very little. I really like Posey and she is a very nice person, but she’s gotta move away, Bug. I’m sorry, mija.”

Sarah’s eyes well with fat tears, her bottom lip pouting in a tremble. She wipes at her eyes furiously as her tears fall, small hiccups shaking her body as Joel wraps her up in his arms, soothing her with soft ‘shhs’ and rocking her side to side.

“I know, Bug, I know. It’s sad when a friend moves away. But Posey will come visit, I promise. It’ll be okay, mi mariposita.”

It takes a few minutes to calm her down fully, but once Sarah is feeling a bit better, Joel gathers pajamas for her to change into and leaves the shower running for her. As he crosses the hall to leave the bag of stuff from you in her room, he pauses once it’s set on the carpet, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop what’s brewing behind them. A single sniffle is felt in his nose before he shakes his shoulders loose, stowing away the feelings to unpack when he’s alone in bed tonight, without you to wrap his arms around and lay his head on.

The noise of the annual neighborly barbecue muffles as you shut the front door behind you, sighing softly as you find some peace and solitude on the front porch. Wood creaks under your feet while you cross the large open space, taking a few of the steps down and sitting on the edge. Smoothing the skirt of your sundress over your knees, you rest an elbow on your thigh and your chin in your hand. The street is quiet, everyone inside the house or out in the backyard; it’s been a while since you’ve seen the neighborhood this way, everyone always hustling and bustling up and down the road. You tune into little changes from the stillness — freshly cut blades of grass blowing across the sidewalk, the mailbox flag barely hanging on by a thread at the end of your neighbor’s driveway, your car parked next to Joel’s truck in front of his house. The last one hits you with a bit more feeling than simple nostalgia for your neighborhood. You volunteered to move your car to give room for others from around the neighborhood to park at your house for the party, and Joel, of course, insisted you take a spot at his.

It’s a glimpse into a life you could’ve had if there were a chance for you two. But you have the calendar in your room, counting down the handful of days that you have until that car is packed up along with a U-Haul and driven the nearly 2,000 miles to Boston. The week after, you start your new job, and from then on, you have no idea what is going to happen. Christmas will be spent away from home, the tickets to meet your parents at your grandparents’ place in Wisconsin have already been purchased. No summer vacation to look forward to next year, no date on that same calendar when you would be home again. When you would see Sarah. When you would see Joel.

Grieving what could have been — a life full of love with your next-door neighbor and his kid, two of the most important people in your life despite the short time they’ve been in it.

The Millers.

Joel, Sarah, even Tommy.

Maybe it could have been you, too.

The sound of the door opening and the rush of conditioned air takes you away from your thoughts, looking over your shoulder as Joel steps outside onto the porch, shutting the door gently behind him. He crosses the porch and stands next to you, grinning down at you and nodding to the spot next to you.

“Saving that seat for anyone?” One of his hands reaches out, smoothing the hair at the crown of your head. You lean into his touch, a coy smile on your face.

“Maybe…Do you have anything to offer for the spot?” You raise your eyebrows expectantly and bite back your own laugh when Joel chuckles. He pulls his other hand from behind his back, holding the necks of two bottles of beer.

“Matter of fact, I do. Is a beer a sufficient offer?” he removed his hand from your head to twist off the cap, handing the opened brew to you, “Could even throw in a kiss.”

“Hm, I think that might make me rescind the offer entirely,” you pull on a grimace, taking a sip of beer as Joel steps down the stairs and moves to sit next to you.

“Oh, fuck off, smart ass,” he shakes his head with a scoff, reaching to take your beer, “Gimme that back if it’s gonna be like that.”

You laugh and hold the beer on the far side of you, arm extended completely as you fight him off.

“Okay, okay, enough! I take it back — I was saving the seat for you and I would gladly take your offered kiss. It would certainly sweeten the deal,” Joel laughs at the exaggerated smile on your face, shaking his head again as he leans in and gives you a quick, chaste kiss.

“You fold pretty quick when your alcohol is threatened, drunkard.”

You scoff at the playful jest, taking another sip and sending him a knowing look, “You’re one to talk, Miller. I still have the singular voicemail you left me when I was away, and you literally told me how drunk Tommy had gotten you. Lots of other things were said, too.”

“That so? Enlighten me, please, Mariposa. What else was said?” Joel settles back, resting his weight on his hands with his arm brushing your back as he places one hand behind you.

“Nuh uh, you said never to tell anyone on the voicemail. I think that also applies to your sober self,” a smirk slides across your face, another swig of drink taken as you turn your attention out to the street again.

“What brought you out here anyway, darlin’? Too much going on in there?”

You shrug, looking down at the foamy bubbles popping in the clear bottle. Condensation drips around your fingers and onto the fabric of your dress, drying in no time thanks to the heat.

“Guess so. Lots of people asking me about the move. Just got to be a little too much, y’know?”

Joel sighs and nods, his hand behind you lifting to rub circles in your lower back.

“I get it, sweetheart. Is it getting real stressful? Not too many days to go.”

“Yeah, and it’s not something I want to think about. I wish I could have y’all pack up too and move with me, but I know I have to go on my own. Spread my wings,” you look at him at the last sentence, one side of your mouth lifting in the faintest of smiles. He looks away from you at the echo of his words from last summer, taking a large swig of his beer.

It’s quiet for a few beats before you speak again, a confession rolling out of you in the intimate moment.

“Part of me wonders what would happen if we had all of this last year, too.”

Joel leans forward, forearms resting on his knees.

“I wonder the same thing, cielita. But you wouldn’t have to stay now for us to work. I think we could make a go of it this time, y’know the distance thing.”

“Joel,” you shake your head, a disbelieving chuckle leaving your lips, “If we couldn’t make a three-hour drive work, how are we supposed to make a three-hour plane ride work? You have work, so do I. And Sarah would either have to stay at her mom’s or come with you if you came up.”

“I know. I know you’re right,” he looks over at you, the look on his face so vulnerable it nearly makes him seem like a young boy. Wide eyes, softened with pleading, lips pursed to one side, chin turned down.

There’s something lingering between the two of you, the feeling in your gut that he wants to say something else, but instead, the conversation is dropped, and both of you turn back towards the street, watching as the sunset bathes your home in pinks and oranges and reds.

He should have said it then. Sitting on the porch, the sun setting in front of you both.

He should have said it then. After you confessed that you wondered what you two would be if he didn’t say anything last summer.

He should have said it then. He should have told you he loves you.

He was nearly there, words on the tip of his tongue and butterfly flapping its wings aggressively inside of him. But then you had said long distance wouldn’t work and he chickened out.

He should have said it then.

He’s going to say it.

He has to say it.

Since retreating back inside with you, both of you breaking off and filtering into the crowds of neighbors, he hasn’t stopped keeping tabs on you. Each time he gets close to grabbing you to the side to tell you to meet him later, you get wrapped up in conversations with random neighbors wanting to wish you luck and give you their goodbyes.

God, do they really need to? Do they even know where you’re moving or what you’re doing? How are they even worth the time, worth the goodbye when they don’t even know you?

They’re wasting the time he has left with you, and the frustration is sitting hot in his chest.

When he is able to catch your eyes across the room or across the deck, your eyes lock with a charge, jolts of energy and tension shooting down his spine. His fingers itch at his sides to have you near, running over the material of his jeans to satiate his tactile need.

Toward the end of the night, he lost sight of you for a good while as he chatted with your dad and the neighbor on the other side of you, Mr. Taylor. Matt he thinks? At a lull in the conversation, he excuses himself to head inside in search of Sarah watching a movie in the basement with other kids.

Closing the sliding door behind him, he turns forward and sees you at the sink, alone and washing up from dinner. He smiles to himself, attempting a stealthy approach but his heavy footsteps fail him. Over your shoulder, you look at him and grin, pulling your hands from the soapy water.

“Hey, Miller.”

“Hey, Mariposa.”

The two of you stand in front of each other, silent with gentle, closed lip smiles. It’s quiet inside, the sounds of everyone outside muffled through the glass, and the sounds of the animated kids’ movie stifled by the basement door.

What really would happen if he just grabbed you and kissed you?

Knowing his luck, your parents, brother, grandparents, everyone in your family would somehow walk in at the same time and see their responsible neighbor, and your former employer, with his tongue down your throat and hands on your ass.

That thought keeps his hands at his sides, and your voice hitting his ears pulls him out of his imagination.

“What’s up with you? You have a weird look on your face,” you laugh softly, tilting your head to the side curiously.

“I don’t have a weird look on my face. I’m just lookin’ at you,” he shakes his head and rolls his eyes, grabbing a dish towel off of the counter and starting to dry the clean dishes from the rack, “Am I not allowed to appreciate how beautiful my girl is?”

A chortle from you makes him grin, shaking your head and bumping your hip against his as you slip your hands into the water to start washing again.

“I suppose I can’t stop you from looking and thinking unless I blindfold you. But I need help drying and don’t want to clean up broken glass from you dropping something while blindfolded.”

“I am not that clumsy, Mariposa. Plus, I would clean up after my mess. Always do,” he nudges you at his side, grabbing another dish to dry and checking the time on the oven.

“So, I gotta go get Sarah home soon, but would you maybe wanna come over to my backyard once this all dies down? I wanna hang out with you,” he focuses on the dish in his hands, polishing it dry and setting it down as he glances at you.

“I’d love to come to hang out with you,” you place another clean dish in the rack, drying your hands again and waving him off, “Go grab Sarah, it’s getting late and I haven’t heard much noise downstairs so something tells me they’ve all crashed from their lemonade and popsicle sugar highs.”

Your quiet giggle brings a smile to his face, feeling as eager as a teenager to hear his crush say yes to going to the dance with him. He takes one step closer, only a few inches, and looks at you, biting his lip with a grin.

“I need you to know that I really want to kiss you right now. Like real, real bad.”

Your laugh makes that damn butterfly thrash its wings even faster inside of him, floating up to his head and making him nearly love drunk enough to forgo the boundaries around your house, around other people, and kiss you right now.

“Go,” you press on his chest and turn him around toward the entrance to the basement, “I’ll see you later, you can kiss me then.”

“Better hold up that promise, sweetheart. My feelings are still hurt after you nearly denied me earlier on the porch,” he winks over his shoulder and chuckles at your eye-roll. He makes his way downstairs, smiling when he sees all of the kids passed out with the home screen for Monsters Inc. on VHS playing over and over again. Scooping up Sarah from the couch, he holds her to his chest and slips out the front door upstairs and over to his house to wait for you.

TO: Mariposa

Heard everyone heading out from yours. I’m on the porch at mine whenever you wanna come over

Joel sends the message and watches the screen for a reply, bouncing his leg while he sits at the table on his deck.

“Long time, no see, cowboy,” you bound up the stairs and over to the table, producing two cold beers from behind your back, “Brought refreshments.”

“So polite of you not to show up empty-handed, darlin’,” he stands and steps over to you, taking the beers from you and clasping his free hand around one of yours.

“Of course, sir. Always polite, you know that,” you smirk when a groan rolls out of his chest, shaking his head at your teasing and leaning down to run his nose along the side of yours.

“Guess it’s only polite if I ask, so, may I please have a kiss, mi chica dulce?”

“Hmm…” You act like you’re thinking, squinting your eyes and tilting your head from side to side. Joel huffs again and drops your hand, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

“Pretty please?”

“Well, if you add the pretty,” a giggle slips from your mouth before Joel is dampening the sound with his lips attaching to yours in a heady kiss. A whimper is breathed from your mouth, your arms sliding up his chest and hooking around his neck to hold him against you. He lets his own sigh out, melting his tongue into yours and savoring the taste of you.

After a moment, you pull away, eyes fluttering open and staring up at him through your lashes with kiss-swollen lips still parted.

“Really glad you asked so nicely,” you laugh quietly and smile with closed lips, leaning up for a quick peck.

“You wanna sit here or inside or—”

“Tire swing! I wanna sit on the swing with you,” you beam at him, pleading with a pouted lip as he considers, sighing dramatically and retaking your hand.

“Lucky you’re cute, Mari. Lead the way,” he nods towards the stairs and laughs to himself as you eagerly guide him toward the far end of his backyard. Joel sets the beers on the ground, helping you to get onto the rubber swing before handing you the bottle and climbing onto the tire, starting a slow momentum and settling his legs on either side of you across the swing. Joel opens the bottles of beer, passing you one and cheersing with you.

It’s quiet for a beat as he leans his head against the rope next to him, taking you in with an amorous gaze and studying your features before he feels compelled to fill the silence.

“Can I tell you somethin’ Sarah told me the other day?”

Your grin is sleepy but eager, nodding slowly as you lean into the motion of the swing, “Course you can. I always wanna hear about Sare-Bear.”

He reaches for the backs of your legs, pulling them up and over his to entangle yourselves further.

“She was very sad about you leavin’ and was asking me a bunch of questions about your job and you movin’,” his fingertips skate over your bare calves, eyes trained on the soft skin shining with the trails of condensation from his fingers, “And one of her questions was if I was gonna call you, and if that she could talk to you on the phone after. She came up with the genius idea that I should ask you to be my girlfriend 'cause her friend Katie became this kid Luke’s girlfriend and they hang out every recess so if you were my girlfriend, then you would hang out with us all the time.”

“Oh, what a sweet pea she is. That is incredibly adorable.” A hand rests on your chest, Joel clears his throat before he continues, the words flowing out of him without any second thought.

“It is adorable. And it got me thinking, that maybe I should be fully honest with you before you leave so that you know exactly where I stand. I don’t wanna hold anything back with you anymore.” The butterfly inside of him has multiplied, feeling like thousands released in his chest as he looks into your eyes.

“Whenever you’re around, I feel like there’s a butterfly just fluttering around in my gut and up into my chest. I feel light as the air around you, completely calm with just one smile from you. And right now, I have to admit, it feels like there are about a thousand butterflies inside of me.”

“Te amo. I love you, mi Mariposa.”

He holds his breath, awaiting any response from you.

Are you speechless? Or thinking?

It’s been quiet for a good minute now.

“Joel…”

Fuck, that isn’t good. That is not a good ‘Joel’, that’s an ‘I’m about to say something that will upset you’ ‘Joel’.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What could you have to say?

You told him last year. Months ago. Did everything change that much? Don’t you still love him? He thought he had understood some signs, but maybe he was blinded by his own feelings.

No. This isn’t how this is supposed to go.

He says it. You say it back, he kisses you, takes you inside, shows you how much he loves you, and you would consider staying. Consider long-distance even. Choose him in some way.

That’s what was supposed to happen.

Temper rises with bile, burning his throat and bringing stray tears to his eyes and a tingle to his face. Power manifests itself in the clench of his jaw, certain that he’ll break a molar the longer he keeps this wire-tight press of his teeth together.

Nothing from you, still.

Fuck this.

“Is there anything you can say?” He hears himself as if it isn’t him speaking. It doesn’t sound like him. There’s venom woven in every word, the question spat out as if it’s bitter in his mouth. The self that is outside of him, screaming at him to shut up watches you deject, shoulders dropping and the corners of your lips turning down as tears line your bottom lids.

“Um, yeah. I’m sorry, I was going to say something I was just surprised…” your fingers are nimbly gripping the neck of the bottle, focus completely on the light amber liquid, “I don’t know if I can do this right now. I’m moving, and I don’t know when I could be back…”

Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

This can’t be happening.

And there’s no way he can bring himself to say anything more, all he wants to do right now is get up and go inside, alone, and slam a few more beers to forget this even happened.

“It’s alright, darlin’. We don’t have to do this right now,” he clears his throat and avoids your eyes, body heating under your pitiful stare, “I think I’m gonna head inside. It’s late and I should probably be there in case Sarah wakes up lookin’ for me…”

His hands gently move your legs off of his, gracefully getting out of the swing quickly and rubbing the back of his neck as he nods up to his house.

“Stay as long as you want. I’ll, uh, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Joel—”

“Night,” he adds your name at the end, the syllables foreign on his tongue after not speaking them for so long. You’ve been his Mariposa, Sarah’s Posey, even every affectionate nickname he could think of instead of your God-given one. It’s beautiful, of course it is, but the sound feels clunky in his mouth, short against his lips as he starts to retreat, to seek out those walls he feels so comfortable hiding behind.

Standing in your room with open boxes and plastic bins piled around, you can’t seem to quite focus on the task at hand. Your mind keeps replaying the end of last night — watching Joel’s face, hearing his frustration, seeing those walls go up in real-time. And hearing your name, clipped with his ‘goodnight’ as he withdrew from you, physically and emotionally, made you nearly feel sick to your stomach. It sounded so uncanny coming from him. You weren’t only ‘you’ to him, you were his ‘Mariposa’. With his voice repeating your name echoing in your head, you resigned to packing up more of your books and knickknacks, wondering what Joel was thinking about.

Maybe he shouldn’t have left you sitting there, alone and upset in his backyard, but God, his skin felt like it was burning him from the outside in, breath tight in his chest and barely squeezing out of his lungs. He settled that night, taking a pause to figure out precisely what these physical symptoms meant for his feelings.

He had been anxious to tell you such a big thing; it was a huge step for him so he was already on edge. He hadn’t said it to anyone, romantically, since Tiff. And looking back, he isn’t even sure he meant it. He’s sure with you though.

And when you said nothing, his anxiety turned into fear which mounted into frustration and anger. Mostly toward himself; he was frustrated he put himself out on the line to get hurt, but he was also admittedly a bit frustrated with you or his misunderstanding of you. He really did think you would say it back. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d heard it from you. He’s reeling a bit, the boil of his irritation toward the situation he’s created is now simmering in his gut.

Sarah had come over to swim again, not wasting any time hanging out with her favorite nanny in the mere three days you have left at home. The two of you have a blast for the afternoon and evening, eventually drying yourselves off and heading inside to wait for her dad to come and pick her up. There’s no message this time, only a ring of the doorbell. Another tell that he’s stewing with something — upset, frustration, resentment?

When you answer the door, you tell him that Sarah’s changing into some dry clothes in the bathroom. You give him a sympathetic smile, heart racing as he steps inside after your invitation. Awaiting the moment he grabs your hand, wraps you up in his arms, rubs circles in your lower back — any of those little touches he’d sneak in when you’re alone, no stolen kisses ‘cause he just needs one’ — but those moments never came. Sarah came bounding out of the main floor bathroom and Joel scooped her bag from her, taking her hand and leading her home with a curt nod goodbye to you.

If he loves you, why is he acting this way? Did he really not mean it? Was he saying it only to appease you, what he thought you had wanted from him?

He knows he’s making things worse by being so closed off to you. But no matter how he tries, his mind keeps bringing him back to that moment where your face fell as he said the words. How instead of happiness, affection, and love of your own painted across the beautiful face he’s studied for hours, you were sad, disappointed, and even afraid of him when he lashed out bitterly.

Bile has been eroding his throat for two days now since he told you, and it is tasting more and more acrid as it sits there. It takes like his anger, his frustration, his avoidance. His disappointment in himself, his shame that he made you feel so small, so ignored.

It’s the afternoon before you’re meant to be leaving. You have the last bits of packing to get done, sitting on your bed with the curtains open and some of the last sips of Texas sun that you’ll have for a while seeping into the room. In front of you are mementos from the last few years — old movie tickets, photos of friends, football game souvenirs from college. Most are placed into a pile to be put into a shoe box to live here at home, to be opened years from now when your parents beg you to finally get rid of all of your things from their house. The few that don’t make the stay pile are memories of your family — vacation photos, funny gifts from your parents, the newspaper clipping of his first No Hitter game that your brother pitched in college. The very last item brings tears to your eyes — the tiny little butterfly magnet that Sarah begged Joel to buy that day at the farm, slipped into your hand the next time she saw you and told you it was for your new house. Looking at it with blurry vision, the colors of its wings kaleidoscope before you shut your eyes, sniffling and clutching it to your chest.

Joel watches you from his window, again, but this time it’s a much different sight. He’d come up here while Sarah is engrossed in her coloring book, needing a moment of peace to attempt to turn his brain off. It feels like these bad feelings are going to last forever; carved into his chest forever. But, as he reminds Sarah when she’s angry or upset, it will end. The disappointment in himself has evolved into understanding — you were scared but for good reason. You said those words to him last year when you had felt them, and he ignored them. He burned you so badly that you must have blistered scars on your heart that haven’t quite healed. He jumped to his anger, not bothering to pay any mind to what that moment must have been like for you. How terrifying to say anything, in fear it would be the wrong thing again.

Seeing you sitting on your bed alone and wiping at your eyes, he feels like the biggest idiot. Not only did it take him way too long to come to understand you, but he wasted what little time he had left with you. The person he loves, his Mariposa, is leaving, for real and possibly for good in less than 24 hours, and he’s let 72 pass without a second thought.

The two of you may only be transitory, seasonal in your time with each other, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to make his love for you feel endless.

TO: Mariposa

You probably don’t want to hear from me right now but please come over tonight, sweetheart. I really want to talk, and I understand if you don’t wanna listen but I’ll come banging on your door and begging.

Please Mariposa

I’ll be over at 9.

He’s been restless ever since he tucked Sarah in about half an hour ago. All afternoon and evening, he rehearsed what he wanted to say to you, whispering it under his breath until he perfected it — all of his feelings laid out, nothing missed.

Shortly after 9, a weak knock comes from the front door. Joel shoots up from his spot on the couch, shaking out his shoulders and attempting to calm his inevitable nerves while he makes the short distance to the entry. A sweaty hand grips the doorknob, opening it to the sight of you in biker shorts and an oversized Astros t-shirt. Arms crossed over your chest, shoulders rolled forward, shrinking yourself in front of him. You look tired — of packing or of him, he isn’t too sure.

“Hi.” The word gets caught in his throat and he clears it, hand twitching at his side, overwhelming need to join your hands at the very least tingles his fingers.

“Hey.” It’s breathy, exhaled with a sigh and your shoulders drop back slightly.

You step inside after he opens the door wider for you, shutting it with a click of the lock and nodding for you to lead the way into the living room.

“You could use your key, y’know. Knew you were coming over, darlin’,” he tries to lighten the mood between the two of you, the jest falling to the ground between you two when you shrug.

“Didn’t really seem right to do…I didn’t know if you wanted me to even have the key anymore. It is from last summer so—“

“Don’t be silly, sweetheart. It’s yours. You’re always welcome here, whenever.”

Silence covers the room as you nod, taking a seat at one end of his leather sofa. You curl your legs under you, settling with a throw pillow in your lap. The position makes him assume you still feel comfortable here like you have a small claim over the space.

He thinks you do, he sees you in every little thing. The way you reorganized his kitchen, flitting around expertly at Sarah’s birthday last year.

You won’t be around for her ninth birthday this year.

He sees you in the throw blanket and pillows that you encouraged him to refresh. You’d complained about how crumpled they were, how they looked like they came as a set with the sofa. They did, he didn’t see anything wrong with them, but he knew it would bring a smile to your face to see new ones. And it did.

He needs to make more changes for you to smile at when you come back.

He hears you in little mannerisms of Sarah’s now, her calling him ‘cowboy’ the other day and her spewing all the gardening facts you’ve taught to her. Nearly made his heart burst — little reminders of your impact on not only his life but his daughter’s too.

You’ve made both of their lives infinitely better since they met you.

There are not enough ways to say ‘I love you’ that tell you what you mean to him. What he feels for you.

“Um, so what did you—You said in your text you wanted to talk?” Nervous fingers run over the threads of the pillow’s pattern, Joel watching you fidget as he finds his own seat opposite of you on the couch.

“Yeah, yes I did…” he sits up, a hand running through his hair before he runs them up and down his denim-clad thighs, “I owe you an apology, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry for leaving you in the dust the other night, I’m sorry for dropping that all on you when we didn’t have much time together, but I needed you to know. I don’t regret telling you, but I regret how I reacted and how that must have made you feel. Lashing out. Being bitter. Closing off and avoiding you. That wasn’t fair.”

“It’s no excuse for how I acted but I was so nervous to tell you, and when you didn’t respond, I got so scared and that turned into frustration — at myself — and I took it out on you. I was mean and then I completely shut down. I am so sorry if I made you feel anything like how I have felt for the last three days because of what I did last year. I never wanted to hurt you, and if you spent the last ten months feeling like this? That's a lot of hurt to cause you.”

“I’m just—I’m sorry, Mariposa. I understand if you don’t want to accept any of this and want to leave and never speak to or hear from me again.”

Nothing is said for a moment, and it takes him back to that moment a few days ago, bearing his soul and waiting with his lungs seized up, breath held inside.

His eyes meet yours when you flick them up from your lap, voice meek, “I’m sorry I’m quiet, I’m just thinking…”

You look as if you’re bracing for him to be annoyed with that, and he slumps forward in failure, standing up and walking over to you, kneeling in front of you. His hands hover over you, unsure if you want his touch until you nod minutely. He runs his palms along your thighs, settling them next to your hands in your lap.

“Sweet girl, you don’t have to apologize for that. I’m sorry I got angry last time. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t take any sort of time you need with me. I’d wait for you forever, darlin’. You talk to me whenever you’re ready.”

“I want to talk to you, I do. There’s so much going on in my head right now,” you laugh sadly and look down at his hands on your thighs, laying your own over them, “I didn’t mean to make you nervous or scared or frustrated. I was surprised, and then I got nervous, too. I couldn’t find words to tell you what I was thinking but I—I don’t think I’m ready to say it again. I care about you so, so much, Joel, but I’m leaving tomorrow and—and I don’t know when I’ll be back…”

You sniffle and look up at him, the look on your face nearly crushing his heart to crumbs. There’s anxiety in your eyes, looking around everywhere but his gaze, the corners of your lips downturned into a pouty frown. A crease between your brow, he can see the frustration you feel. Without a second thought, he reaches up, rubbing away the line and relaxing your brow. You lean your head into his touch, palm gently skating along the side of your face to caress your cheek.

“I know. It’s alright, Mariposa, I understand. You don’t have to say it back. I know I hurt you before, and I didn’t have the thought that you wouldn’t be ready now. But I told you, I don’t regret it. I love you. I would wait if you asked me to.”

“Joel, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“But I would if you did.”

“I’m not going to do it.”

“Not asking you to. Just telling you I would.”

A chuckle falls from your lips as you roll your eyes playfully, bringing a faint smile to his face.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m in love. That’s not ridiculous, amor.”

“What a line, Miller.”

“Did it work?”

Another laugh, your gorgeous smile peeking through your emotion, and the butterfly inside him flapping its wings again. His thumb brushes along the high point of your cheekbone, locking his eyes with yours.

“Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t.”

Joel smiles wider, inching closer with his knees aching in the door.

“Stay the night? I’ll set an alarm for you to get back home. I jus’ wanna hold you, Mariposa. Fall asleep and wake up with you, while I still can.”

His hand moves from your face, pulling you forward from the back of the couch and wrapping his arms around you. He lays his head in your lap, your warmth easing his eyes closed. A low hum rolls from his chest when he feels your fingers card through his hair, pressing his head against your touch like a cat.

“Let’s go to bed, honey.”

Sighing, he opens his eyes but leaves his head in your lap, arms tightening around you.

“Gimme a second, I like sitting like this.”

“You’re gonna kill your back sitting like that, hon. C’mon, we can lay down upstairs,” your fingers leave his hair and he whines quietly, chuckling when you poke the side of his head before running your nails across his shoulders. He groans involuntarily, picking his head up and tugging you to the edge of the couch.

“Gonna need you to do that again, darlin’. But first, ‘m taking you to bed.” He stands and offers you a hand, helping you off of the sofa. You walk ahead of him, at least one hand kept on you the entire way up to the second floor and into his room.

Slowly shutting the door with a click, you turn over your shoulder and give him a delicate, closed smile. He’s drawn to you like a tide pulling him in, his arms finding their place around you and his lips finding their place against yours. It’s a fragile kiss, feeling with one false move the moment will shatter and reality will seep in and cloud this embrace. But for now, Joel allows himself to indulge in the narrative that his imagination is giving him; there’s no job in Boston for you, no moving truck parked in your driveway a hundred feet away. Instead, it’s him, standing with you in what should be your room, too. Kissing you so tenderly simply from the fact that he feels it’s what you need right now, what he needs. It’s another night that he is dying to show you how much he loves you, how much he cares. He would do it every night over if it meant you would stay, and right then he finds himself asking whatever power might be out there to give him a Groundhog Day situation so he never has to get to the minute he says goodbye.

Lips pull away from each other, you staring up at him as he rests his forehead against yours, eyes flickering back and forth between yours. His hands around you slip under the hem of your shirt, seeking out skin. Fingers splayed across your back, he lifts the fabric up, voice hushed as he speaks.

“You’re so beautiful, amor.”

You give him a bashful smile, one of your own hands finding space at his upper back underneath his t-shirt, “So are you.”

Another feathery kiss. Joel guides his nose along the side of yours, crossing your cheek to press a kiss to your jaw, hiking your shirt up higher as he raises his hands on your back.

“And so smart. Way smarter than me—”

“That’s not true,” you breathe out as his lips find a spot on your neck, grazing his teeth before soothing the skin.

“It is, darlin’, and I have no issue with it. You’re smarter than me, kinder, more patient, funnier…” He pulls your shirt over your head, kissing you again before the fabric is fully off of you. A heavier exchange; throaty, inhibited moans slipping between you two. The sound, and taste, and feel of you are making him lightheaded with desire, blood rushing below his waistband.

“Made me a better man, Mariposa.”

Your mouth drops from his with your chin, his own shirt getting tugged off and discarded with yours. He closes his eyes when your silky skin, such a contrast to his worker’s hands, grazes his cheek. Your thumb on his cheekbone encourages his eyes open again, a beat of silence exchanged before you speak.

“You were already a great man when I met you, Joel.”

“I don’t feel like one without you.”

“You are,” you rasp to him, trailing kisses on his chest as you work the button of his jeans open and his zipper down, “You’re honest. Confident. So incredibly thoughtful…”

You’re walking him backward toward his bed, pushing the denim down his legs. He kicks them off as he sits down, your hands find his shoulders and scratch your nails along them like you had before. Goosebumps spread over his skin, mouth falling ajar as he breathes heavily at the sight of you sinking to your knees in front of him.

“You’re solid, steady. Reliable. You make me feel so safe, so cared for.” You kiss the plushness of his belly, one of his hands holding your head as you rub your cheek against his hardness and kiss the spot where his tip is through the thin fabric. Another chill runs through his veins, your gentle affections overwhelming him.

It’s a blur as you strip him of his boxers, his hands cupping under your breasts as you stand to remove your shorts. You’re back on your knees in front of him, a deep exhale from his chest when you wrap your hand around his hard cock; the sight of you dribbling spit onto him causes him to shudder a moan. Your motions are slow and deliberate as you stroke him, kissing his tip. Fingers run through your hair, the warmth of your mouth enveloping him as you start a measured pace.

“Fuck, sweet girl…So good to me, so good for me always.”

As you swallow once around him, his head falls back with a reserved moan of your name, tilting his chin back down to look at you.

“Feels so perfect, sweetheart. Eres todo para mí. You’re everything to me.”

He hears a hum from you in response, the vibrations adding to the sensation. You work him toward a high, chest rising and falling shallowly. Before he can come, he eases your mouth off of him, shaking his head.

“Wanna come inside you, mi Mariposa, c’mere.” He helps you to stand, crawling back on the bed and pulling you over him. Catching your lips with his, his hand slips between your thighs, sighing as he feels your arousal coat his fingers. As he teases your entrance, you stop him with a grip on his wrist, pulling out of the kiss.

“I want you now. I wanna feel you.” Dilated pupils in your pleading eyes face him, brow knitting with concern.

“Baby, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t. You would never. I want it, please,” you give a sly smile, pursing your lips, “Plus, I’m leaving tomorrow. You have to gimme what I want.”

Joel chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls his hand away, your grip loosening as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth to suck clean. He holds them there, attempting to memorize the taste of you. Your hand tightens at his wrist again, coaxing his fingers away from his mouth.

“You’re right, Mariposa. Anything you want, I’ll give to you.”

“Can I—Could I try…” you trail off, looking down coyly.

“What, darlin’? What do you want to try?” Languidly, his palms run up and down your sides as you sit on his thighs, his back against his headboard.

“Could I try being on top?”

He smiles widely at your question, the sweetness in your voice taking him back to last summer, experiencing your firsts with you.

“You wanna ride me, sweet girl?”

A nod keeps his smile there, leaning in and kissing you — all teeth.

“I’m yours, sweetheart. Take what you need, amor. Déjame ser lo que necesitas. Úsame. (Let me be what you need. Use me.)”

A nervous walk on your knees brings your wet cunt to hover over him, one of his hands wrapped around the base of his cock while the other guides your hips. You grip his shoulders tightly, your nerves taut in your forearms. When you start to sink onto him, your face contorts with uncertainty, a look he can’t distinguish between pain or pleasure.

“You okay, darlin’? Does it hurt?”

“No, no. Well, a little, but I wanna keep going.”

“Maripo—”

“I can do it. I can take it.”

Hearing that dries his mouth, his face heating up with a craving for you.

“Okay, baby. Keep goin’. Talk to me.”

You whimper as he fills you up more, still not fully wrapped in your walls. Your brow relaxes as you adjust to the stretch of him, tongue poking out to wet your lips.

“Doesn’t hurt as much. Think I can do more.”

“Good girl. Take what you can handle, Mariposa. I’m here if you want to switch, amor.”

With a hushed exhale, you’re fully filled with him, a quiet moan of his name breathed out as your eyes flutter close and you lean into him.

“Fuck, Joel, feels so good like this…”

“I know, baby, feels real good. You always feel perfect.”

After another minute, your hips start a relaxed rhythm, rising and falling with a steady grind. It’s driving him mad, the sight of you over him, using his cock to get yourself off. Wanting him enough to give him this, the image of you over him — a fallen angel fucking him. That’s what you have to be.

Your legs tremble from the burn of them, and he swoops, holding your hips still as he starts to fuck up into you. Joel maneuvers his feet under him to get more leverage, giving it to you hard and steady how you like it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Joel, honey—”

“Again, Mariposa, tell me again how it feels.”

You whimper, looking at him with a pained pleasurable expression, his cock driving into you at a perfect pace.

“Gonna miss this, miss you. Never gonna feel this good with anyone else.”

Joel groans from under you, smirking wildly as he moves faster.

“That’s right, darlin’, nobody’s as good as me. Ruined you for everyone else, didn’t I? S’cause it’s my pussy, remember? Mine.”

As you nod furiously, he uses the moment to flip you around, pressing his weight over you to drive you into the mattress with his strong, steady thrusts.

“Yours, honey. Always gonna be yours.”

“Fuck yeah, sweetheart.”

“M’gonna come, Joel, fuck I—”

“Come for me, mi Mariposa, let me feel it.”

A mess of moans and whines leaves you underneath him, breathless as he fucks you through the intense orgasm, your walls tight grip plummeting him to the edge and snapping the taut rope inside of him.

“Fuck, Mariposa, fuck. I love you, te amo. Te amo, mi Mariposa. I fucking love you,” he sighs, eyes squeezing shut as he fills you, fucking his come further into you with a few quick thrusts. He blindly searches for your lips, passionately kissing you with all of the emotion he can muster.

Once the two of you have come down completely, he eases out of you and slips on boxers to go out to the hallway, grabbing a washcloth. He wipes some of the sweat from your body, swiping the cloth between your legs before he deposits it in his hamper, padding over to his dresser and pulling out the navy blue shirt that you love. At the side of his bed, he gently gathers you up to sit straight, slipping the fabric over your head and guiding your arms through the sleeves. Your malleable form falls back to the mattress, pulling him to lie down with you.

“You can keep that shirt, y’know, for when you’re away. I want you to have it.”

“Thank you,” the two of you tangled up in each other, your head ending up on his chest with one leg between his, “M’gonna wear it all the time and then it’s not gonna smell like you anymore.”

“Jus’ send it back then, sweetheart. I’d give you another. And another. And another, until you’re sick of my shirts.”

“Doubt that’ll ever happen.”

“Never say never, Mariposa,” he brushes his fingers against your cheek, kissing the top of your head, “Gonna find someone for you, or it’ll end up in the bottom of one of your drawers. Nothin’ wrong with that, darlin’. Means you’re living your life, which is the only thing I could ask of you.”

At the sound of a sniffle, he tucks his chin in, pulling himself away from you to see your face. There’re damp paths down your cheeks, glossy eyes, and runny nose.

“Oh, sweet girl, why are you crying? Did I actually hurt you before? D’you feel okay?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” your voice is thick, tightening his chest and squeezing his ribs, “M’just…I’m gonna miss you so much, Joel. I feel like we could figure things out for us, and—and now I have to move across the country. And I don’t know when I’ll be home, and we can’t make promises to each other. And-and—”

You hiccup with a cry, Joel reaching to wipe away your tears.

“And I have to leave Sarah, too. I feel so sad that she’s sad and asking questions that you can’t answer. I feel like I’m making a mistake, Joel.”

It would be easy for him to lean into this spiral of yours, to convince you to stay, selfishly, to abandon your plans — your dreams. He would be the biggest asshole ever if he did that.

“Mi amor, mi Mariposa, it is scary to leave home and start over somewhere new. I am going to miss you so much, so fucking much you don’t even know, but you are not making a mistake. It’s never a mistake to pursue what you want, what you’ve dreamed about and worked towards for years. You gotta do this for yourself, baby, and it will be hard at first, but if I know anything about you, you’re gonna be kicking ass and signing checks at that place this time next year. We love you, Mariposa, we do. But that won’t change with you across the country. You’re a part of our lives. Always gonna have a place if you want it, my sweet girl. It’ll be alright.”

He nestles you into his side again, lips finding your hairline and pressing gentle kisses there. You rest on his chest again, sighing as your larger cries calm to smaller ones.

“What do you think about when you think about the future with me?”

He hesitates, not wanting to encourage any more thoughts about staying — you have to go.

“I don’t know if I should answer that, Mariposa, I don’t want you to be sad again.”

“Please? I want to have the same daydreams as you. So we can have a life together even if it’s just our imaginations.”

Holy shit, he thinks his heart is actually stopped and shattering.

How in the world is he going to get over you?

“Alright, for you, darlin’... A future with you…”

“I think about us actually giving it a proper go. Tellin’ your family, tellin’ Tommy and Sarah. She’d be over the moon. Think we’d date for a while, but I’m an impatient bastard, so I bet I’d be asking you to move in before we reached a year. And if you agreed, we’d wake up and fall asleep to each other every day. Go grocery shopping. You’d help Sarah with her homework cause you’re smarter than me and I’d make dinner for my girls. We’d be subject to many Disney movies, but I would make you watch all my favorites. And I would happily watch yours. We’d just live together. Be partners. Help and hold each other when we need it. I’d ask you—” he catches the words in his throat, “I’d ask you to marry me. Would be the easiest question, but I’d still be scared shitless about your answer cause I know I still wouldn’t understand how someone like you would want someone like me. We’d get married, live all that domestic bliss. And…and I’d wanna have a baby with you if you wanted to. You’re going to be a great mom. And I would be so lucky to be your husband and the father to your baby.”

He hears your sniffle again and shakes his head while holding back a smile.

“I told you I didn’t want to make you sad again, Mariposa.”

“No, no! Not sad. At all, I promise. I just, I would want all the same things if we could have it. I’ve thought about all of that with you,” you hold him tighter, taking a deep breath into his chest while he feels tears litter his skin.

Both of you lay with each other, the sounds of your steadying breathing the only noise in the room. Joel switches off the lamp, settling more on the pillows and closing his eyes after you do; his fingertips run up and down your back, compelled to break the silence at that moment with a hushed voice.

“Estás hecho para mí. El universo te hizo para mí. Te amaré durante toda mi vida. Te amaré mañana. Te amaré dentro de cinco años. Todavía te amaré incluso cuando soy viejo y gris, mi Mariposa.”

“What does that mean? Will you tell me?” you ask sleepily.

“You're made for me. The universe made you for me. I will love you for my whole life. I will love you tomorrow. I will love you five years from now. I will still love you even when I'm old and grey, my butterfly,” his own voice breaks slightly, opening his eyes to have his vision blurred around the edges. He blinks away the tears, quiet falling over the room again as you fall asleep in his arms.

When Joel is sure that you’re sleeping deeply, he whispers to you, “I just want you to be happy, mi Mariposa. Whatever that looks like, I want it for you. I love you. I miss you already.”

Metal rumbles as your dad pulls down the back of the U-Haul truck, securing the lock on it after you’ve double-checked that everything is packed securely. It’s a quiet morning on your street, the only other souls awake at this early hour are Joel and Sarah, the younger of the two having insisted on seeing you off so she can wave goodbye. They’re standing on their porch like last summer, Joel behind Sarah with his hands on her shoulders and sleep still in his eyes.

He woke you up just an hour ago to sneak back home, the goodbye between you two somber and prolonged. It was cutting it close to your parents’ alarm when you finally dragged yourself out of his arms and out of his house, looking back over your shoulder at least three times while your feet carried you across the lawn for the last time. He waited, watching you from his doorway until you couldn’t look anymore, quietly slipping inside and upstairs to get ready to go.

Now you’re standing on your driveway, your mom and brother in their pajamas while your dad is dressed to do the drive with you over the next few days. You exchange one last goodbye with each of your family members staying home, the truck rumbling to life as your dad ignites the engine from inside the cab.

You don’t know when you’ll be back here. Home. With the Millers right next door. With Joel, your Joel, always there for you.

One last look towards their house, Joel offers a wave, and Sarah’s lip visibly trembles, even from as far from her as you are. In the next second, she’s bounding down the porch stairs, little legs carrying her over to you in her pajamas. Her small frame slams into your legs, wrapping around you as she hugs you tight and cries.

“Please don’t go, Posey. Please,” she sniffles, looking up at you with wet eyes, “I don’t want you to go, I want you to be around for the summer and next summer and next summer.”

You bend down to her level, wrapping her up in a squeezing hug, whispering to her, “I’m so sorry, Sare-Bear. I have to go, but I promise I’ll be back and you’re going to be the first person I see. Gonna miss you so much, sweet pea.”

Joel has jogged over by that point, sighing to himself before he walks over to the two of you, picking Sarah up to continue to comfort her when you pull out of the hug.

“You’ll have the best summer, Sare-Bear. And I am definitely going to call to hear all about it, okay?”

She nods and wipes at her eyes with her whole hand, leaning into Joel’s shoulder. You look at him, a tight smile communicating the same sentiments you did this morning.

I’ll miss you. I care so much. You know how I feel about you.

I’m not gonna be able to forget you.

His voice pulls you out of the memory of an hour ago, the faintest glassiness to his eyes.

“Good luck, sweetheart. You’ll do great things.”

With a hard swallow, you give him a nod, holding back tears of your own.

“Thank you, Joel. Thank you.”

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