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taintedcigs · 6 months

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˚ 　　　 . ✧ 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄

vol 1; made to break your heart — king!steve harrington x fgirl!reader

summary: in which you see your ex making out with someone else leaving you with no choice but to fall right into the lap of his enemy, steve harrington. (wc: 5.2k+)

warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, or*l sx (receiving and giving oop), some good ol’ bj, drinking, drgs, weed basically, no use of ‘y/n’, degrading, praises, LOTS OF PRAISES, they are both switches but idk if that counts??, nicknames! reader is kinda heartless basically a maneater, steve is an arrogant bastard, and hes got a big BIG di–heart. some lil’ eddie mention that u might miss if u blink!

authors note: i am kinda thinking a pt.2 of this IM open to all ideas, but i kinda am thinking of making it like a mini-series? and maybe introduce eddie in the second part, and then make part 3 steddie? mmmhmm? what do we think? my asks r open for all and any ideass anyways not proofread bc of my lazy ass. ignore any mistakes.

please like + reblog + interact to support me ! thank u ily

read vol 2 here

Booming music filled your ears, sweaty bodies swaying away from you but you couldn't care less.

Whispers from your back, collected gasps, and all you could do was watch.

Fingertips clutched on your dress in fury, gaze unable to tear away from the scene playing out right in front of your eyes.

Tina’s lips were locked onto Billy’s, you thought it was pretty soon to be swapping salivas considering it had been barely two days since he broke up with you.

The red cup in your hand was almost smushed from the hardened impact of your fists, with a quick go, you downed it, ignoring Tommy and Carol’s cackles as they watched you.

With a roll of your eyes, you were quick to turn away from them, ignoring your friends calling out for your name—you didn’t need this, you didn’t need to be pampered. You just needed a generous amount of drinks, and maybe someone to keep yourself busy with.

Tina and her lame-ass party could go fuck themselves.

Billy was an asshole, no real surprise there. And you didn’t care, because the relationship had run its course, again. Tough shit. You were used to it. Another break up with him.

You didn’t care about it, the only thing you cared about was him crossing the line, making out with another girl in front of everyone.

Each break, the two of you fucked whoever you wanted to fuck, just to end up together again, drunkenly. But this time he made it everyone’s problem, and you couldn’t let him get away with that.

The whispers, and the collective giggles every time you passed by were making your blood boil.

You couldn’t let that dipshit ruin your reputation, you weren’t going to pathetically pine over someone who could barely make you cum. And you weren’t going to let any of those gossiping assholes think otherwise.

You stumble onto the porch with a string of curses leaving your pouty lips, quick to fish out a joint courtesy to that Munson kid, always providing you with the best weed, either free or cheap, depending on how much you adjusted your skirt or batted your lashes at him.

Maybe, you should pay him a visit. For fucks sake, you’ve seen him play, and he could roll a joint blindfolded, he knew how to put those fingers to use.

You could just imagine the scorching look on Billy’s face, his velvety lips scrunched together, a sickening feeling sinking into his stomach, knowing that you fucked Eddie Munson, the guy he always went to get his weed from.

The idea of it brings a delicious smirk to your lips. But it wouldn’t be enough, no. You needed something more, something bigger.

“Need a lighter, honey?” A coarse, smooth tone has your head cocking, the joint sitting on your lips rising with the impact.

Steve fucking Harrington.

Falling right into your lap.

Billy would’ve flipped the fuck out if he knew. He always warned you about him, telling you that Harrington was off limits, no matter what. Well, until now.

Your gaze locks with his, dangerous, filthy, and exactly where you want him. Before you can drag out the joint to answer him, he acts quicker, brushing his fingertips on your chin, almost tugging you closer to him, he licks his lips, wetting them with a chuckle.

With a gentle flicker of his lighter, the tip of the joint smolders, casting a warm glow to your face that accentuates the smirk curved on your lips.

Your dress rides up your thighs when you straighten up, taking an inhale from the joint, you blow the smoke in his face without a care. He eyes each of your movements, the stupid grin sitting on his lips growing wider the more his eyes move up and down your body. You almost want to chuckle at how easy this is.

But you also know Steve’s type, you have to make them chase you a little bit, give them a little thrill, before you finally give in. And you had already been doing that, for the longest time.

Always teasing him, but never giving in. Your hands always brushed past his bicep just enough to let him know you were interested, eyelashes always fluttered at him, teeth biting on your bottom lip as you checked him out.

The little game had been fun, but you never plucked up the courage to fully give in to him, Billy would’ve lost his shit. Besides, you knew his type, and you didn’t want to be one of his other trophies. And you didn’t have to be, you just had to use him to get yourself off, and piss Billy off. The second you walked into a room with him, you knew the party would be buzzing with the gossip.

You had the perfect excuse, the perfect excuse to finally divulge your fantasies, all the cheerleaders always blabbered about him, calling him an ass, but an ass who knew how to properly use his fingers and that dangerous mouth.

Exactly what you fucking need.

You had been pent up enough for the months you were with Billy.

This would be a little reward.

“All alone?” He was smug, he absolutely knew about the break-up and possibly saw Tina and Billy’s show, so he knew this was the perfect opportunity to have you in his palm. In a fucked up way, that made you want him more, the unspoken game grew more intense with that gaze of his, he had the same idea you did. The fucker was smooth.

You nod curtly, not wanting to just fall into his lap. No matter how good he looked in those Levi’s jeans that cupped his ass perfectly. Why was he so fucking interesting to you? Arms all toned, face adorned with tiny moles, he almost seemed mystical.

And oh god, his hair. That soft, perfectly layered chestnut brown locks, so effortlessly cool that you just wanted to run your hair through it, tugging at it the more his lips sucked on your clit.

God, the thought had your thighs pressing together uncomfortably.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be all alone at a party,” he pouted mockingly. “Where’s that boy toy of yours?” He tutted, hand dangerously planted on your back, ghosting over your hips.

That elicited a giggle out of you, “Didn’t you hear all the rumors, pretty boy?” You leaned further, hand extending to offer him a huff. His attention was somewhere else though, eyes widening the more he admired you in that dress, showing off your curves in all the right way, tits almost busting out of your chest.

God, he had been waiting for this moment, an opportunity to have you, the second he fucking met you. But Billy got to you first.

“We broke up.” That brought his attention back to you, a smirk played on his lips when he leaned into your hand, lips wrapping around the tip of the joint, he sucked on it but his dark amber eyes remained on you.

With an inhale, “Good.” He mumbled, “knew that dipshit couldn’t handle someone like you.”

“You need someone better take care of you…” he hummed, nose dipping closer to your features, “someone who knows how to handle all of this.” His hands were placed on your waist, traveling all over your body.

Your breath was quick to get caught in your throat, a whine leaving your lips with how forward he was being.

And shit, you understood the appeal, you always did, but this time, you were sure your hunger for him grew faster than you intended to. You were in his palm, and you were more than okay with it.

“Yeah?” You teased with a giggle, head falling on his shoulder, brain getting fuzzier.

“I can make you forget him.” He’s bold, and it has your thighs rubbing together.

“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember his name, or how to walk.” He’s so close to your ear, breath fanning against your breath as you almost shudder, but you play it off.

“You’re all talk, Harrington.” You licked your glossy lips, head slightly tilted to the side, teasing him just enough.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know you’ve heard the rumors, and I know you want this as much as you do.” The cocky bastard licks his lips, and you want nothing more than to bite them.

“Oh, yeah?”

“The way you press your thighs together, that little whine you just did when I barely touched you… Tells me all I need to fuckin’ know.” He whispers, and you almost whine out when a sloppy kiss is planted on your neck, harsh and needy.

“You’ll be screamin’ and beggin’ for me, angel.”

Your brows raise in interest. “That a promise?”

“Uh-huh.” He gives you a boyish grin.

“You’re on, King Steve.”

It didn’t take the two of you long enough to find an empty bedroom, lips, and teeth clashing as soon as the door closed.

The wandering eyes of the party had followed you up until that point, so you knew as soon as the two of you left the room with your sexed-up looks, everyone would know.

And you would finally have a sweet release after months of Billy’s selfishness.

A win-win.

You let his curious hands wander around your body, quick to almost rip off your dress, he wants to savor this moment, wants the image of your body engraved in his mind, stuck into the back of it just so he can fish it out whenever he can.

But he’s impatient, he’s waited for this. Wanted you longer than ever, and finally, you’re putty at his hands, ready to take whatever he’s going to give—or at least that’s what he thinks— And he’s feeling greedy. His mouth is pressed onto yours, sucking on your tongue before he lowers you down on the bed, you giggle softly when you sink into it, and Steve has never felt like this before, the hunger in his eyes ignites a spark of pleasure within you, quick to dampen your thighs with need.

A shocked gasp escapes your lips once he unhooks your bra with his left hand. Oh, he’s good. “Pretty baby,” he murmurs before his mouth is latched onto your nipples. “Perfect fuckin’ tits,” He groans into your chest, hand toying with your lace panties, shaky breaths escape his lips as he earns more whines from you.

You look ethereal, with your mouth hung open, teeth biting on your glossed-up lips, head thrown back. Just like he knew you’d be.

The more he circles around your panties the more you feel that pent-up desire burning inside of you, all those orgasmless months with Billy, and Steve was going to elicit more with just a flick of his fingers than you ever had through the entire relationship.

Maybe that’s why he always called you a bitch.

“Steve,” your whines come out pathetically as he looks up at you, layered hair already disheveled and that goddamn smirk sitting on his pretty lips.

“Already beggin’, honey?” He mocks with a grin, tugging on your nipple, all teeth and no mercy. His tongue is making its way further down, soft, wet strokes tickle your body.

“Fuck off,” You spit at him, barely, words dying down your throat when he’s quick to rip away your lacy panties. His light honey eyes are so much darker now, head thrown back when he visually drinks in your glistening pussy.

You look so fucking perfect, thighs spread apart, him between them, mouth hung open and ready to take all of him. He makes a mental image of it, burning it to the back of his mind.

“C’mon sweetheart, let King Steve know what you want, what you really need.” His voice is smooth and coarse, fingertips circling around your clit harder the more you whine for him.

“Do you need my fingers, baby? My mouth?” You moan at that, audibly. It has him chuckling darkly once he realizes how depraved you really are, one touch from him and you’re already soaking his fingers, whining like a pretty little slut.

If he knew how much you’d be such a good girl for him, he would’ve done this much sooner. Would’ve ruined your pretty little pussy for anyone else, Billy would’ve had no chance over him.

“Has that asshole not been makin’ you cum?” It was more of a rhetorical question, but the way you shook your head with a pout, had him melting. He really had you and didn’t know how to take good care of you? What a fucking loser.

“Holy fuckin’ shit… not even with his mouth?” His eyes widened, he really didn’t think Billy would be that bad, everything was working to his advantage.

“He- uh- he never…” You stammered, getting uncharacteristically embarrassed because it was, truly embarrassing. All those months with him, and half the time you faked it. Selfish prick.

“Never? Oh, baby…” He coos with a dangerous smirk, lip all pouty and mocking, “No wonder you were so desperate for me. You really needed this, huh?” He almost gave a chuckle, caressing your pussy with his middle finger, getting you all ready.

“Jerk-” You want to curse out his cockiness, tell him you don’t need him. Keep him grounded, but the whines he’s pulling out of you are enough to make him grin like a Cheshire cat.

Your breath gets shakier when his finger easies into your walls. “Sshh, relax, baby.” He coos.

“I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good, doll.” His fingers are slickly working their way in and out of you, filthy sounds mingling with your moans as his nose brushes over your clit, causing your hips to start rocking up to him.

“Had this pretty little thing, and didn’t even know how to take care of it, hmm? What a waste,” He hummed sweetly, index finger thrusting in and out of your sloppy walls.

“If I had known you’d be this fuckin’ soaked, I would’ve done this much sooner,” he taunts, fingers curling inside of you, enjoying the way you gasp out and buck your hips for more.

He dives in, pressing the flat of his tongue against your swollen lips, enjoying, fully tasting you. With a satisfied hum, he brings his eyes to meet yours, all fucked out, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, had this sweet pussy but never even tasted it… What a fuckin’ dumbass… I’ll give you what you deserve, baby…”

He’s going to explode soon, if he doesn’t make you cum and then fuck you senseless. He can feel his balls draw up more and more, each time you whine, each time you plead for his name as a whisper.

He flicks the tip meticulously, giving you attention everywhere and anywhere, just like he knew you’d like it. “You know, I usually would never do this on a first date,” He mocks, grinning all mouthy and you attempt to dive his mouth further into you, to shut his arrogant ass up, and that fucker resists, “But god, you’re an exception… just begging to be fucked, you deserve this honey, can’t be selfish with you.”

His licks are heavenly, sucking on your clit like a man possessed, and his name falls from your lips in such a filthy way that you don’t even care how pathetic you look anymore. You accept it, you let him take full control, trashing beneath him.

“You like that, angel?” His words are muffled into your cunt, the pad of his thumb still circling around your entrance while he sucks on your clit. Your head sinks further into the softness of the bed, eyes squeezed shut, breaking apart with just his tongue. He moans into your soppy walls, sending a shock wave of pleasure to ripple through you.

He doesn’t even need your words, the visual of you squirming underneath him is enough to have him all bricked up, you taste like the sweetest sin. Velvety walls so tight that it has him bucking his hips into the bed, desperate for some friction, he needs you. And he’s sure he never wanted someone this badly before.

“So fuckin’ special, aren’t you? Such a desperate baby…” You can feel his bulge against your thigh, sitting prettily and throbbing against his boxers. You always heard how big he was, but fuck, you finally get to feel it, and it’s glorious.

And he twitched in his boxers just from eating you out? God, he was fucking perfect.

He dips his head just enough to muffle out a few more words, “I wanna taste you fully, angel. Want you to soak my tongue.” He dives in before you can reply, eliciting dirtier moans from you, alternating between his fingers and his tongue.

He doesn’t care about anything else but you, he wants you panting for him, cumming all over his tongue while you scream his name.

Your thighs start to shake once he pushes two fingers inside of you, gentle but rough enough to have you squirming and bucking your hips more into him, you’re at his mercy, and he loves how tight you are. Just the thought of your tight cunt milking his cock dry has his eyes rolling.

“S-steve,” you breathe out roughly, enjoying how his tongue is licking up that sweet spot. “I know baby,” he taunts all cockily, admiring the way your thighs shake with need. You’re going to cum soon and that prick can feel it.

“N-need to cum, please,” your pleading is unintentional, you just need a desperate release, and he’s so fucking good.

“Cum for me, angel, be a good girl for me, yeah?” Your eyes squeeze shut at the praise, and he takes note of that, admiring the way you tighten around his tongue and fingers at the praise.

His fingers are quick, making you scream out his name louder and louder. “That’s it pretty girl… cum for me.” Arrogant fuck, you wish to say, but the way he laps up your juices has you whining like a little slut. And his smirk grows wider, a wet patch forming on his boxers with how hard he’s straining them, pathetically needing to be inside of you.

You tremble, trash, squirm beneath him, his touches and stripes of licks finally enough to have your stomach twisting, with final screams of “Steve!” and “F-fuck!” the coil inside of you snaps, orgasm overtaking you with such force that your eyes are glued shut.

A gush of sweetness trickles along Steve’s tastebuds, you taste so fucking good that it drives him even crazier, lapping up at your juices and not stopping until he’s sure you’ve collapsed under him.

He’s grinning like crazy, lips all glossy with your juices, and he looks so fucking pretty like this. It makes you want to return the favor.

So badly. And the need to know if the title Big Daddy Steve really suits him or not stirs your stomach, your core pooling with need. If it’s true, your mouth waters with the desire to have him, he looks delicious, and you know he’ll look much more yummy while he’s fucking your mouth, pretty praises leaving his pale rosy lips.

The avoidant part of you screams at you to not do this, but your core is begging for more.

Maybe, just maybe, you could return the favor but still toy with him, take control, and mess with his mind.

Enough to have him begging, pleading for more from you.

As if he can hear your dilemma, he drags you back in, wrapping his fist around your hair as he pulls you toward him and draws your bottom lip into his mouth, all teeth, sucking with an exaggerated hum, “Do you like the way you taste on my tongue?” He mutters against your ear, licking a stripe of your neck.

Jesus, fuck. Now, you had to return the favor.

“Tastes so sweet,” you giggle, you are going to suck him off, but you are going to lead the way now. A smirk gleams on your lips. Teasingly, your hands trace the edge of his boxers, enough to earn a rude whine from him as you squeeze him through the harsh fabric.

You’re quick to yank his shirt off of him without a warning, and he’s quick to flaunt his well-muscled, heaving chest.

Asshole.

With a strong flip, you manage to straddle him, taking him by surprise while you grin at him, and to say Steve is intrigued would be an understatement, his cock twitches at your brow raise. “What are you doing, baby?” He still manages to be so cool that your thighs ache.

“Returning the favor,” you shrug with a smirk, eliciting low grumbles from him when you lower yourself on his chest, leaving sloppy kisses, mouth tracing a trail that leads to his delicious v-line.

You lift the elastic away from his waist, freeing his throbbing tip, the red tip slaps against his abdomen, and your brows pinch together in astonishment admiring it.

Jesus fucking Christ, he was not all talk.

King Steve, indeed.

You had to hand it down to those gossipy cheerleaders, they had described him to a t, perfect girth, slightly bent to the left, and big, really fucking big, you probably needed to use your hands along with your glossed lips to take all of him in.

He chuckled at your expression, basking in the glory of your widened eyes, “Like what you see, angel?” Another taunt, but you ignore it with a smirk this time. Pooling saliva in your mouth, you spit on the angry tip, Steve hisses at the impact and watches with a low grumble once you wrap your palm around his shaft.

He reveled in how perfectly your soft manicured fingers looked around his delicate bubblegum pink tip, attending to his every need.

Your warm fingers are working their way around his cock, coating his length with your spit as you tugged at it gently, causing his eyes to nearly roll back in his head.

He tries his best to swallow his groans, but his hips desperately jerk up at your hand, desperately fucking it, rendering you speechless.

“You like that, baby?” Your tone was teasing, and if he didn’t feel like he was about to explode he would’ve gripped your hair and fucked your mouth with such roughness that all that you would be thinking about would be his huge cock, punishing you for being such a tease, but he was the one wrapped around your finger now, literally.

“S’big, Stevie,” you coyly batted your lashes at him, and a shuddered breath left your parted lips as you looked up at him between his thighs.

He almost wept at the sight, shit shit shit, you were all of his dreams wrapped into one, and he could barely speak. Your palm easily glided down his length, saliva working as a lubricant as you teased him further.

Your other palm was quick to cup his balls, massaging them and giving them a gentle tug, while your other hand still glided down his length, enjoying the way he struggled not to let out loud groans in your hold.

Without any other word, your head tilted down, quick to mouth the tip of his intense tip, it was almost hot to touch, waiting to be attended to, so needy. Just like him.

You swipe his tip, collecting his pearl of pre-cum gently. “Jesus f-fuck!” Pathetic coarse whines leave his parted lips, he lets you take control, eyes clenched tightly.

You give his tip more kitten licks, trying to get your throat ready for his lengthy cock. “Just like that, honey,” He praises with his head thrown back, he avoids looking into your eyes, knowing that the fucked out look on your face as your pouty lips wrapped around his cock would be enough to have him spill down your throat in seconds.

And it would be a bit embarrassing for Steve, to lose his reputation to you in a matter of seconds.

“More…” He demands, but you ignore it while you continue your teasing sweet flicks on his tip, feeling him twitch around your tongue. “Pretty girl,” He whines and jolts his pelvis for more, desperate and needy. Just where you want him.

“Mhmm?” You whine with your mouth full, it sends a rush of pleasure through him, “Suck it, baby,” he whines again, this time pained with need. Your greedy eyes smile up at him and he’s sure you have done something to him.

Because he never wanted to cum this bad before. He wants to wipe that smirk off your face while you gag on his cum, struggling to swallow all of it as it spills down your cheeks, glistening your breasts, ruining that gloss forever, and instead, you walk around with his semen all over your face and lips.

It pulls a twisted groan out of him, you make him feel so perverted and he can’t fucking help himself. You finally accept his pleas, and with one glorious tug, you finally wrap your lips around his cock, fully, getting teary-eyed each time you try to take more of his flesh.

Steve can’t help himself, his head is dipped down, and he immediately feels his balls ache at the visual of you, crystal tears staining your cheeks, and even then, that lewd look did not leave your eyes.

“F-fucking slut, just like that,” His groans are uncontrollable, hips bucking further into your mouth. You don’t let him yank you by your hair, just yet. You let your mouth adjust to him, sucking him deep and tight.

“Such a good girl, suckin’ my cock with all she has, mmpf.” His praise has your core clenching, damn him.

He admires your pouty lips fully wrapped around his flesh, sucking and hollowing your cheeks as you wail for him, “Shit, shit, baby, l-look so pretty with my cock down your throat, mmhmm…” He coos, words incoherent.

“Will look even prettier with my cum shooting down that throat, isn’t that right, angel?” You hummed in agreement, looking up at him with your dark, hooded gaze, an unintentional grin playing on your lips.

He mumbled a string of curses, praising you, worshipping you. You continued your stroke on his base harshly, working the head with your tongue, a new angle that had him go absolutely insane.

“Mmmhmm, need your cum, Stevie.” You mumbled, momentarily letting your hand do all the work before you dove back in, taking his stiff cock deep in your throat, he had been struggling before, but your words were his last straw.

Because it was exactly what he fucking wanted, owning your mouth, and fucking it with ease.

His palm turned into a fist the second he held your hair, yanking it down as he pushed you further down on his cock, enjoying the way it hit the back of your throat, you gagged around it, all teary and Steve’s head fell back in pure ecstasy. “Y-yes, yes, fuck!”

“Gonna cum, baby, mmmpf, god-” He panted, his cock twitching more and more you sucked on him.

“Gonna fuckin’ s-shit-” He shuddered, thighs shaking while your throat continued to squeeze the tip of his cock, and once you gave his balls some more attention, he knew he was a goner.

“Fuckin’ give i-it to you,” He barely let out when his eyes glued shut together, almost rolling to the back of his head when you gagged around his cock, with a glorious groan of “Fuuuuuck!” Steve came in your mouth, hips still bucking into your throat as a spurt of his warm load spilled down your throat, coating it nicely.

You only let go of his softened cock with a ‘pop!’ sound once you made sure you sucked him dry, swallowing all of it while Steve watched you with such a dazzled look that it almost made you want to do more with him. But, no. This had been enough.

You enjoyed his salty taste in your mouth and the way his fingers and mouth worked inside of you. And that was enough for you. For now.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He grumbled a chuckle that had you grinning and winking at him. God, men really were easy. One blowjob and Steve was already looking at you like you were the most precious thing in his life.

You had to go easy on him, tell him that you weren’t going to let him fuck you.

Because you got what you wanted, an orgasm, and the reputation of fucking “King Steve”, everyone would be gossiping about the two of you by now, it was a matter of time before that douchebag found out.

He tried to pull you in for a kiss, but you were quick to dodge it, getting up from the softness of the bed with a groan while Steve curiously eyed you.

His brows were quick to pinch together, watching the way you easily slipped your tight dress on your body while you admired yourself in the mirror. Rubbing your lips together to fix your gloss, fingertips cleaning over the smeared mascara running down your cheeks.

“W-what are you doing?” He inquired, his face quick to fall down.

You shrugged nonchalantly, “I want to go dance,” brows then raised in excitement “Ooohh! Maybe I could get some more weed, have you seen Munson around?” You questioned, that lustful look still dancing in your eyes.

“Uhhh…” he stammered, still confused on what the fuck just happened. “Y-yeah I think-”

“Thank fuckin’ god!” You hummed with a giggle, rushing over to his side, sloppily planting a kiss on his cheek, all shiny and smeared with his juices.

You were halfway through the door when Steve’s protests stopped you. “Wait, wait, wait!” He straightened up, softened cock and all, his glistening chest was begging to be touched, but as you decided, not today.

“What the fuck? I thought-”

“What?” You asked cluelessly, brows raised.

“We were just getting started, angel,” He tried, but his voice wasn’t as arrogant or confident as it was before, and it took you so much to not let your lips twitch into a smirk.

One orgasm and he was already broken? Steve was fun to play with it.

Your giggle at him would’ve felt mocking if you didn’t do it so prettily, Steve just watched in awe.

The poor boy.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, would you?” You tilted your head with a pout. Oh, you were good, he had to give you that.

Because once he literally got a taste of you, he wasn’t going to stop.

His lips kissed his teeth, it was surely hypocritical of him to think this was unfair since that’s what he always did to other girls.

“But–”

“See you around, pretty boy,” you cooed, throwing a wink toward his way, and shutting the door with that. Leaving Steve all alone.

He had never felt this way before. The way his cock twitched just the thought of you again had his mind flooding, you used him, gave him the best fucking head of his life, and then left.

Maybe this game would’ve pissed him off if someone else did it to him, if it was any other girl he would’ve lost interest, thinking she was trying too fucking hard, but it was you.

And all it did was drive Steve crazier, and make the chase all the more fun, and Steve was nothing, if not persuasive.

#steve harrington x reader #king!steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #king!steve harrington

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talaok · 1 month

Note

a smutty joel imagine with him saying, “you’re in trouble doll”

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel, your dad's best friend, has pissed you off once again for his constant fear of your father finding out about you, so you decide to make him jealous, only he doesn't take it as well as you expected... or maybe exactly as you had

warnings: jealousy, he grabs you by the neck at one point, possessive!Joel smut| a bit of thigh riding, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, she calls him daddy ONCE bc I need to cut back on the daddy kink it's becoming a problem, kind of exhibitionism, and unnecessary feelings cause i can never fucking write a story where they're just fucking for some reason

You were flirting good

The way you only did when you weren't really interested, when it was just a game, when you were bored, or perhaps... in the mood for taunting someone

Maybe someone who was across the backyard, his hazel eyes burning a hole into the back of your head as he gripped his beer hard enough to shatter it, his head nodding slowly at whatever your dad was saying, but his thoughts only to you, only to that little asshole who had his hand on your cheek- on his girl

"I'd forgotten how funny you are" you said, after falling into a more than exaggerated laughing fit at one of Kaleb's miserable jokes.

He grinned with that smile guys have when they think they have it in the bag, when they’re already picturing you in their bed

As if

“Tell you what, I'm even funnier in front of a drink,” he said, his eyes glinting with victory “you free tonight?”

But before you could respond, a very much non-friendly voice barked from beside you

"she's not"

Joel looked even hotter than usual with that t-shirt clinging to his toned biceps and pecs, and the way he was looking at Kaleb... he looked ready to kill, and fuck if that didn't make him even hotter

"Tommy needs your help on the grill, I'm takin' a break" he nodded toward his brother, giving the guy a chance to scramble before he had to punch him in the face

"now?" Kaled wined, his gaze trailing to you, as if counting on the understanding of another man of what he was interrupting

"Now."

There was no room for negotiating, and the guy finally got it, sighing loudly before nodding

"Fine, I'll catch you later then," he smiled, watching you reciprocate, before he started for the grill

You squinted your eyes against the sun as you looked up at Joel, making a show of rolling your eyes as he gave you that stern, angry look he was always so good at giving

"Cockbloker"

You didn't wait for whatever smart retort he was gonna send your way as you turned around and started making your way into the house,

only of course, he was right behind you, closing the glass door to the kitchen with a loud thud

"you're in trouble doll"

again, you could only roll your eyes as you opened the fridge to look for what you didn't even know

The party of people just outside the windows was loud, but his steps as he stalked to you were the only thing you could hear

"I'm talking to you"

You could hear the restraint in his voice, almost feel it oozing off of him, the way you were getting under his skin, the way he was controlling his own rage

And when you only sighed, still not acknowledging his presence... then his self-control slipped, and his hand had forced the fridge to fly shut, the bottles rattling inside.

maybe this will get your attention

And it did, you turned to him, a bored, stoic look on your face

"what do you think you're doing?" he hissed, his jaw ticking

"what?" you cocked a brow "I'm not allowed to talk to people anymore?"

The way he tilted his head, flames of anger lighting his eyes as he took a step towards you made you want to get down on your knees and suck him off right there and then... but then again, you were supposed to make him pay

"Don't give me that bullshit" he growled "That wasn't just talking, there's only one thing that guy was after and you know it"

You scoffed, taking a step closer to him in affront

"so?" you asked, raising your brows "What I was after the same thing Joel?" you argued "You know, since you're so scared of my dad finding out... since you're always saying I should find someone more age-appropriate, I figured... why not Kaleb?"

Oh he was fuming

"At least he's not scared of my dad" you mocked "At least he wouldn't have to sneak out of my house after he's done fucking me-"

you didn't even see him move, the only thing you felt, was the back of your head hitting the fridge, and seconds after, his hand gripping your throat, and only then did you hear the gasp fleeing your throat

he had moved you to the other side of the fridge so that from outside, no one could see your dad's bestie choking his daughter without so much of a hair of second thought.

"If he even tries to come near you" his face was but an inch from yours "He won't have a dick to fuck you with sweetheart, got it?"

What did he think? That he was gonna scare you? please

You snorted, your mouth twitching in a smirk

"You don't own me Joel" you only purred "I can fuck who I want"

The snarl he let out was nothing but predatory

"You think that fucking guy's the right one for you?" he asked, his right leg in between yours, the top of his thigh dangerously close to your core

"you think that little asshole's gonna make you come?" his breath was ghosting your mouth, but he ducked lower, murmuring against your ear now

"You think Kaleb's gonna fuck you better than I do?"

Although shivers were running down your spine, you chuckled, as you murmured "Maybe"

He groaned, his thigh immediately going to your center, rubbing against your clit as his fingers tightened on your throat.

"say that again" he challenged, his voice rough and throaty

"what," you grinned, "you think you're some kind of sex god or something?"

The fact that he could hear all the little whimpers you were swallowing down your throat didn't help your case

"Have you forgotten already about all the times you were begging for my cock sweetheart?" he teased, his jeans damping with your slick as you parted your mouth in pleasure "All the nights you spent screaming my name, mh?"

His warm words felt so good on your neck, and his leg... if he kept at it you might just fall apart like that

"you think another man can do that for you?" his eyes were boring into yours now, his hand forcing you to meet his gaze

And when you didn't answer, the same smug grin on you, he understood what he needed to do

"You need a little reminder, 's that it?"

And just like that, you had exactly where you wanted him.

If he was aware that this was your plan all along, he didn't show it, probably because you had turned his brain into a jealous angry heap.

He watched the way you bit your bottom lip, the same way he's seen you do thousands of times before, need pooling in your iris and panties at the same time

"ah that's it, isn't it?" he growled, his right hand going to squeeze your ass "my dirty girl needs me to remind her who's the only man that can make her feel good huh?"

And fuck it, but you were already palming the bulge at the front of his pants

"whose cock she needs to be filled with" he smirked, watching your pretty eyes fall to his mouth

"then I guess I just have to, don't I?"

His lips were on yours faster than you could blink, his mouth ravenous and hungry as much as his tongue, which was exploring every inch of you as if he needed to have all of you, right there, right now.

You felt his hand leave your neck and seconds after your ear picked up his zipper getting undone and then he was picking you up and he was hastily freeing his cock from his boxers and-

It was all so fucking fast- he felt like a man possessed

For this much talk of you being the one to need a reminder, it looked like it was him the only one to need this

And maybe it was because seeing you talking to that guy made him see red, or maybe because it had been more than 24 hours since he had a taste of you and missed you more than anything, or maybe... maybe he was just starting to realize that it wasn't the 24 hours, and it wasn't Kaleb, but it was you, it had always been you, with that smart mouth and that smug attitude and your determination and kindness and beauty and fuck- this had never been just fuking- he could never just be having sex with you, he wanted to have you, all of you, not just like this, but in public, in front of everyone, in front of Kaleb and you pissed off dad- he wanted to- to bring you on a proper date and pay the bill and only then fuck you so good you forgot your name- he wanted, he wanted everything, he wanted you, completely.

"You know anyone could come in here at any moment right?" you asked breathlessly as you leaned away, your lips swollen already

He had you propped against the part of the fridge facing the wall, so you were hidden from the outside, but anyone could have just taken a closer look, or come into the kitchen for a fresh beer and caught you just as he railed into you... and he couldn't have fucking cared less

"What, you scared?"

And the way you smiled- the way you smiled was enough to make a grown man drop to his knees in an instant

"fuck me, daddy"

God fucking damn him, but he might just be in love

"Jesus fucking Christ doll"

He didn't let you laugh at him before he had pounced into you with one hard and deep thrust, his mouth crushing into yours simultaneously to drown out that clamorous moan he already knew was coming from your throat

He didn't let you get used to him, he only started fucking up into you like he needed to split you in half, like he needed to get deeper into you that he'd ever been.

He was grunting with each push, and you could faintly hear the fridge beside you move in tandem with his movements, but you couldn't have cared less about worrying whether or not it could be seen from outside.

he hit a particularly deep spot inside of you and just as you were about to cry out like a mad woman, his hand was on your mouth, shutting you up for good

"you let another guy touch this fucking pussy and they're dead" his eyes were just as brutal as his thrusts, although a veil of harrowing honesty lay beneath them

He was being serious, he needed you to know that

"got it?" he asked, your mind only half listening as your walls tightened around him "It's fucking mine" he purred, the hand he had on your waist tight enough to bruise "You're fucking mine," he said, "all of you"

You swore you felt pain underneath the anger in his voice

"I don't care what you say, I'm the only one that can make you come, 'm the only one who can touch you or fuck you or- or fucking take you out to dinner- got it?"

If it were any other moment you would have teased him, but this... there was something too precious- too honest about this

"yes" you whimpered into his palm,

And that sent him straight to fucking heaven, he couldn't help but relieve your lips of his hand and kiss you again, kiss you with every inch of life he had in him

"You're mine" he breathed, both of you breathing so heavily you were nearly hyperventilating

"I'm yours Joel" you promised, your core wisting and tuning as he drilled you closer and closer to the edge "I'm yours" you repeated, watching what it did to him, the relief plastered onto his face, the want only multiplying in his pace "only yours- all of me-"

"that's right" he breathed, his skin slapping with yours "My pussy, my body, my girl" he purred "You're mine, doll"

And just like that, he had pushed you over the edge, watching you fall apart closely before he couldn't help but follow suit, kissing you as he silenced both your moans, bottling them up inside of him, so he could never forget them, forget this.

You opened your eyes to find his already on you, so many unspoken words, feelings, hopes in them, and you couldn't help but smile, dropping your forehead to his as he settled you back onto the ground

"That was- wow" you sighed, still grinning like a kid "I should make you jealous more often"

"Please don't" he begged, his fingers drawing circles on your waist as you kissed him again, smiling softly onto his lips

You needed to talk, about what happened, about what this was, about everything... but as you both leaned away, a mutual understanding passed through you

Later

"You should get back out there" you murmured, although halfheartedly.

the prospect of moving away from his embrace felt like hell right now

"what about you?" he asked, his nose nuzzling against yours

"I gotta clean myself up"

"I could help"

You rolled your eyes playfully as a small laugh flowed through you

"Joel" you said, still smiling "go"

And so even if his whole mind, body, and soul were fighting against it, he did, kissing you one last time before he leaned away, fixed himself up, and looked at you one more time, before walking out of the kitchen and into the backyard

And as if on cue that fucking asshole had to come in and ruin his fucking vibe

"Hey, where's y/n? I've been looking for her" Kaleb asked, walking up to him.

Joel didn't even try to be nice, he didn't even bother with that "count to ten before answering" bullshit Sarah was always telling him about

"She's not interested, and if I see you even just looking her way ever again, I am going to kill you Kaleb, understand?"

To say the guy was taken aback was the understatement of the century

His eyes widened so much he didn't even look like himself

"w-what the fuck?" he spat "Where is she, I need to t-"

"she's in the bathroom" Joel cut him off, pure rage and annoyance in his voice, in his stare "cleaning my come off of herself"

Kaleb stumbled back, literally now

"w-wha-"

"I told you buddy" Joel said simply "she's not interested"

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giri-giri-waifu · 1 year

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1:1 ratio of hot chip and Tums

#this is a joke #i didnt eat that many tums #or did i #but in all honesty i just want hot chip #please stop scrambling my insides i beg of you #its supposed to cancel out right?#right?#tums #waifu has tummy problems #a single hot chip is enough to do me in #i so much as look at a mozzarella stick and theres a mafia boss with a tommy gun inside my stomach going ratatattatatatat heyya fuck ayouu #waifu thoughts

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space-invading-pigeon · 7 months

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Post s2 steddie where Steve just. Gives up. Not to say he does anything drastic, I mean he goes from the King of Hawkins High to the King of Fuck Around, Find Out.

His old friends, the ones Eddie will refer to as the King's Court, are terrified of him because Steve was the Nice Guy of their group. He has all of their secrets, and now there's nothing keeping him from airing that but general human decency. Billy doesn't much talk to him, not after being drugged and threatened within an inch of his life by a thirteen-year-old with nothing to lose, so Steve is mostly left to his own devices.

He keeps to himself, but he sticks up for the less popular kids when he sees them. It's amazing to see; sophomore Gareth is saved from Tommy H and Jason Carver when Steve levels them both with a glare and says, "Muncie." Both boys go sheet-white and pretend that they've lost interest in Gareth before scrambling off. Gareth is grateful enough to invite Steve to Hellfire's lunch table, and Steve agrees pretty easily.

Sitting with Hellfire is more nerve-wracking for the members than it is for Steve: the only person completely unaffected by Steve's completely expressionless face is Eddie, who seems to have no problem reading Steve like a book. It's a little terrifying for the Hellfire members, but Steve very clearly likes Gareth (at the very least) and seems to enjoy bickering with Eddie.

#hellfire adopts steve au #eventual steddie #steve harrington #stranger things headcanons #stranger things

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punkshort · 4 months

Text

i'll be home for christmas | part two

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, very soft!joel, flirting, kissing, hallmark movie tropes up the wazoo, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce, reader's sister is pregnant, hurt/comfort, explicit smut (18+MDNI), (somewhat) unproteced piv sex, angst (but you know there will be a happy ending, this is Hallmark, after all)

WC: 12K

A/N: I am so overwhelmed at the response I received for part one. No contest, it's my most successful story to date, and I can't thank you all enough ❤️ I really hope you enjoy this part just as much. Please read the warnings, this has some (very sweet and soft) smut at the end, so if it isn't your thing, feel free to skip it.

Series Masterlist

Joel sat in his truck, the engine long cooled down by now, as he stared blankly at his garage door, waiting for the stupid grin to leave his face before he went inside to face his brother. But he had been sitting there for almost twenty minutes, and he was still smiling behind the back of his hand.

That date with you was perfect. Well, he could have done without getting knocked on his ass by some kid, but it worked out for him in the end, so he didn't mind.

Goddamn, did you make him feel good. There was no way he would be able to sleep that night, he was sure of it. Not after the way you looked at him, touched him, kissed him. A big part of him wondered for a long time if he would spend the rest of his life alone, believing that lightning doesn't strike twice, that he would never find anyone who would look at him and want him the way you did.

He ignored the nagging voice in the back of his head that reminded him you didn't live there, that you would be going back to New York in a couple short weeks. He couldn't let that bring him down just yet, that was a problem for another day. Right now, his only problem was resisting the urge to drive back to your house and scoop you up in his arms so he could make you feel as good as he felt.

It was close to midnight, so he caved and went inside, hoping his brother would be too groggy to interrogate him. When he walked in and saw Tommy and Sarah lounging on the couch, wide awake and watching some action flick, his face fell.

"Hey, it is way past your bedtime, the hell are you doin'?" Joel scolded, sliding off his boots.

"Dad, c'mon, it's the weekend," Sarah whined.

"Don't care, you know the rules," he told her, trying to sound firm, but he had such a soft spot for her that he never succeeded in sounding threatening.

"But it's a special occasion, I wanted to hear how your date went," she grinned, sitting up and wiggling her eyebrows. Joel's jaw dropped and shot a glare at his brother while stretching his arms out at his side in disbelief.

"Oh, come on, she practically dragged it outta me," Tommy smirked.

"Unbelievable," Joel muttered, collapsing on the end of the couch and rubbing his eyes.

"So?" Sarah pushed, tucking her legs underneath her excitedly.

"I ain't talkin' about this with you," he said, biting his cheek as he stared at the TV.

"Why not?" she pouted, but Joel just shook his head.

"Go brush your teeth," he said.

"Fine," she replied, rolling her eyes as she made her way to the stairs. "But I'll get it out of you one day."

She stomped upstairs and it wasn't until Joel heard the water running that he turned to his brother.

"What the hell, Tommy? You know I didn't want her knowin' about that," he said, exasperated.

"Oh, relax," Tommy said, stretching his arms above his head. "She's sixteen, Joel. She's smart. She figured it out herself, I just confirmed it after gettin' the third degree."

Joel sighed and tipped his head back onto the sofa, closing his eyes.

"Christ," he muttered.

"What's the big deal?"

Joel sat up and opened his eyes.

"Big deal is, she lives in New York. There's no future there, we were just hangin' out, and I don't need Sarah gettin' her hopes up," Joel explained, trying to downplay his feelings, but his chest squeezed at the thought of you leaving one day.

"Ever hear of long distance?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That never works," Joel replied, shaking his head.

"Well, maybe you should make it work," he said, sitting up and muting the TV. "You know, Sarah just wants you to be happy, Joel. We both do," Tommy said somberly. "Told me tonight she's worried about you bein' all alone when she goes off to college."

"I'll be alright," he said gruffly, although the same thought was plaguing his mind recently, as well.

Tommy stared at his brother a moment as Joel watched the TV, pretending to follow the story even though there was no audio. He decided to drop it for now and changed the subject.

"So, you gonna tell me how it went or what?"

Joel bit his lower lip, trying to keep himself from smiling, but he failed. Tommy noticed right away and grinned, leaning forward to tap his knee.

"I know that look," he said, still grinning.

"Yeah, alright," Joel finally said with a smile. "It was great. Really fuckin' great."

"Hell yeah!" Tommy yelled, and Joel immediately shushed him, pointing upstairs.

"She's funny and she's sweet, we had a real nice time," Joel said, his grin permanently etched on his face now.

"I figured it went well since you got home so late," Tommy replied with a wink.

"I ain't gonna sleep with her on the first date," he whispered, just in case Sarah was listening. He settled back into the couch as Tommy turned the TV volume back on, letting the movie play for a minute before adding, "She's a good kisser, though."

"Oh, I can't wait to meet this girl," Tommy chuckled with a shake of his head. "Haven't seen you smile this much in years."

"Yeah, well," Joel replied noncommittally, still smiling like an idiot and staring at the TV. He decided to stay downstairs that night, finishing the movie and then starting another one on the couch long after Tommy left, unable to quiet down his mind long enough to fall asleep until nearly three in the morning.

You woke up the next day, stretching your arms above your head with a big yawn, not ready to get out of bed yet but the voices downstairs told you it must have been late. With a groan, you reached over and snatched your phone off the charger. When you saw you had a text waiting for you, your heart skipped a beat until you read Sydney's name and not Joel's. Your eyes flicked to the top of the screen, noting it was close to ten in the morning, before sliding open the text.

Sydney: sorry forgot to reply yesterday. I saw will at black & blue, he was hammered and falling all over the place

You scowled, not interested in whatever your ex was up to, so you replied with just the thumbs up emoji and set your phone back down.

Staring at the ceiling, you dreamily thought about your date with Joel. God, he really took you by surprise. You were proud of yourself for taking that first big step forward and putting yourself out there again, but you had no idea it would feel like this. You weren't even sure you ever felt like this with Will. Even when things were good, Will never treated you the way Joel did last night. He was so earnest and respectful, opening doors for you and actually listening to you talk about work. And he didn't even try to feel you up, either, although you probably wouldn't have minded. Maybe it was those Southern manners you were missing this whole time.

With a groan, you dropped your phone back on the nightstand and swung your legs over the edge of your bed, wrapping yourself in your robe, still not expecting it to be so cold in Texas. Even though it was December, it was unusual.

You made your way into the kitchen and made a beeline for the coffee, tossing a wave in the direction of your parents sitting with your sister and brother in law in the living room.

"She lives!" Cassie exclaimed with a smug look on her face. You held your mug up to your lips and blew on the liquid, frowning when the whole family was looking at you with matching, goofy smirks.

"Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" your mom asked innocently. You squinted at her as you sat down, not buying it.

"How was your date?" your sister asked. You took a sip of coffee before replying.

"Good," you said simply, nodding your head. Your mom and dad exchanged a look and you frowned again, getting annoyed.

"What?" you asked loudly.

"Nothing!" your dad said, looking back down at his newspaper. Who even still gets the newspaper delivered anymore, anyway?

"Josh, what's going on?" you asked your sister's husband, knowing he was the weakest link. He glanced nervously between you and Cassie.

"They saw you and Joel on the Ring camera," he blurted out, and your family all groaned in unison. Your face flushed beet red, gawking at them all in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?" you screeched.

"We didn't mean to, Bucky. Dad was reviewing the footage because he couldn't find the newspaper this morning and, well..." your mom trailed off, trying to hide her smile.

"Oh my god," you whined, tucking your legs to your chest and hiding your face.

"Looked like the date was a little more than good," Cassie teased, and you smacked her on the leg.

"I can't believe this," you mumbled to yourself, hiding your face behind your coffee mug and praying someone would change the subject. "How much did you see?"

"Just from when he pulled in the driveway til when you went inside," your mom said with a shrug.

"That's, like, everything, Mom! Oh my god!" Your face was hot with embarrassment now.

"He looks like a good kisser, is he a good kisser?" Cassie asked.

"Shut up!" you whined, covering your face with your free hand.

"There's nothin' to be embarrassed about, he was a gentleman. Held the door open for you and everythin'," your dad murmured, and you groaned.

"Can we talk about literally anything else, please?" you begged.

"Of course!" your mom said, her eyes flicking around the room, waiting for someone to say something, but nobody spoke.

"I'm sorry, Buck, but you gotta see the the smile on his face after you went inside, it was so cute," Cassie said, pulling out her phone.

"I'm going upstairs!" you announced, jumping up from the couch.

"Wait! Are you still coming by later to help paint the nursery?"

"I don't know, are there any cameras there?" you shouted over your shoulder as your climbed the stairs with your coffee to hide in the sanctity of the guest bedroom.

"Well, no. Only because I haven't set the baby monitor up yet," Cassie called back and giggled when she heard you slam your door.

Grumbling to yourself, you flopped back into bed and picked up your phone, looking for a distraction from your embarrassment. You quickly found one when you saw you had a missed text from Joel.

Joel Miller: Question for you - when is the earliest you should text someone without looking too pathetic after you've had the best date of your life?

You grinned as you typed out a response.

You: answer - whatever time you sent this text :)

Joel Miller: Oh, good. Thought I scared you off, sent that about ten minutes ago.

You: sorry, I was downstairs talking to my family, forgot to bring my phone. And I don't think you could ever scare me off

You almost told him about the doorbell camera fiasco, but decided against it. Picking up your mug, you tried not to stare too hard at your phone as you waited for a reply.

Joel Miller: What are you doing later?

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing him again so soon, then quickly stopped yourself, remembering your promise to your sister.

You: I told my sister I would help paint the nursery...

Joel Miller: That's a shame. I was hoping you could teach me something again.

You: oh? lol

Joel Miller: I just realized how that sounded - I meant wrapping Christmas presents for Sarah. I'm awful at it and I have another hunch gift wrapping is a secret talent of yours.

You giggled and rolled over in bed, your embarrassment long forgotten now.

You: you might be right... how about tomorrow?

Joel took the porch steps two at a time, eager to see you again and it hadn't even been a full two days. His finger barely pressed the doorbell when he heard your voice call out I got it! and the door swung open. You smiled up at him, your eyes lighting up before dropping your gaze to his mouth.

"Hi," you said breathlessly.

"Hey," he replied, swallowing roughly.

"Have a nice time, Bucky!" your mom's voice rang out somewhere behind you as you shut the door quickly. Joel grinned, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your mouth before leaning in. You put your hand on his chest and tilted your head back before grabbing his hand and leading him to his truck. Confused, he followed behind and tried not to stare too long at the way your jeans perfectly hugged your ass.

You led him to the passenger side of the truck, but when he reached out to open the door, you snaked your hand up to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling his face down for a searing kiss only when you were sure you were hidden from view.

"Would I sound crazy if I said I missed you?" you whispered.

"No," Joel replied, shaking his head and trying to calm his pounding heart. "Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you."

"Me, too," you admitted softly, gazing up at him with your beautiful eyes all wide and burning with desire.

He cradled your face in his calloused hand, the other flattened firmly against the truck door behind you as he stared into your eyes, fighting the urge to pick you up and wrap your legs around his waist so he could pin you against his truck and let you feel just how badly he missed you.

Then, you heard your dad's SUV unlock and your eyes widened in panic.

"Shit," you muttered. "We should go. I think they're heading out."

"Alright, maybe I should say 'hi' real quick," he said, pushing himself off the truck and letting his hand drop from your face.

"No! That's okay, we'll be stuck here forever if you do," you said hurriedly. He gave you a curious smile but agreed before opening the door for you and hopping into the driver's seat.

He waited until he backed out of the driveway and was heading down your street before shooting you a sideways glance.

"Everythin' okay?"

You sighed and rubbed your palms over your face before clearing your throat.

"So, remember the other night on the porch, after you dropped me off?"

He smirked and nodded.

"Yeah, I think I remember," he teased.

"Well," you began. "My family saw us on the doorbell camera the next morning," you cringed.

He laughed, throwing his head back just a bit so he could still keep an eye on the road, and shook his head.

"Oh, I hate those fuckin' things," he said, but he was still laughing.

You grinned, your nerves and unease dissipating quickly.

"You're not embarrassed?"

"Nah," he said with a shrug, then turned his head briefly to look at you. "I'm sure we put on a good show."

You giggled, your cheeks tinting pink, and turned your head to look out the window.

"Alright," he said after a minute. "I've waited long enough and I gotta ask."

You swiveled back towards him, waiting for him to continue.

"What's the story with the nickname?"

You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut.

"It's so unbelievably stupid," you said, but he shook his head.

"Well, now you gotta tell me."

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes, but your playful smile gave you away.

"It's Buck, or Bucky. Short for Bucket," you began.

"Bucket?" he repeated, bewildered.

"I warned you it was stupid!" you protested, and he chuckled. "Anyway, when I was little, my sister and her friends had a sleepover one time, and I overheard them swearing."

"Okay," Joel said slowly, nodding along while he kept his eyes pinned to the road.

"I always looked up to my sister, I was like her shadow when I was younger. So, when I heard them swearing, I wanted to be like them, too, you know?"

"Yeah, I follow," he replied, still not sure how the story related to your nickname.

"Well, thing is, I misheard them. They were saying 'fuck it', but I heard 'bucket'," you explained. "So I went to school and, thinking I sounded cool, I would say 'bucket' to all my friends. We were little, they had no idea what I was talking about, so I explained to them it's a swear word. Before I knew it, I had the whole class saying 'bucket' any time someone dropped something, or got a bad grade on a test, or whatever."

Joel howled with laughter, gripping the steering wheel for dear life as he tried to make it safely into his driveway.

"The principal called my parents and told them what was happening," you continued, joining in and giggling. "They got me home, and-" you doubled over, clutching your stomach as Joel put the truck in park and slumped over the steering wheel, his body shaking as he laughed.

"And I had to tell them the whole story, about why I kept saying it and-" you wiped the tears from your eyes as you took a deep breath. "And - oh my god - my sister got grounded for two weeks-" Another fit of laughter washed over Joel, tears streaming down his face.

"Wait, wait," he gasped, unbuckling his seatbelt so he could turn to face you. "You got in trouble in school, and your sister ended up gettin' punished?"

"Yes!" you squeaked, still giggling.

"Oh, shit," he breathed, panting as he leaned the back of his head against the seat rest. "Can't believe you thought that was stupid. That's gotta be the funniest thing I heard in a long while."

"Well, I'm glad I could brighten your day," you said, still grinning.

He rolled his head back towards you, his soft gaze drifting up and down your frame quickly before stopping on your eyes.

"You really do, y'know," he said quietly, and you furrowed your brow, tilting your head in confusion.

"Brighten my day," he clarified.

You bit your lower lip and smiled, looking away as the flush began to return to your cheeks.

"Come on, charmer. Why don't we go teach you how to wrap presents?"

You never really gave much thought as to what Joel's house would look like, but once you saw it, it immediately felt like him. It was a smaller, two bedroom house. When you first walked in, you entered a living room with a leather couch and an oversized recliner. A big screen TV was front and center across from the couch, with a few framed pictures of Joel and Sarah mounted on the wall next to it.

"You want somethin' to drink?" Joel asked, making sure to slide the coat from your shoulders before shrugging off his own.

"Maybe just water," you said, following him into the kitchen. You gasped when you saw his cupboards and immediately rushed over to them while he pulled two bottles of water from the stainless steel fridge.

"Oh my god, Joel," you whispered, running your fingers gently over the designs. Each one looked different but somehow they all were cohesive. Some had small flowers or butterflies carved into the corners, while others had simple, yet intricate designs grooved into the wood.

"Had to practice somehow," he said, feeling his cheeks flush as he walked over to hand you your water.

"God, it's so beautiful," you said breathlessly, unable to look away from the dark, stained wood. Your fingers danced over some stars etched into one of doors, your eyes wide with awe, but he was focused entirely on you. He couldn't get enough of watching the delicate features on your face light up whenever you found something new that pleased you.

"How long does this take for you to do?" you asked, finally dragging your eyes away to look up at him. Your throat tightened when you noticed the heat behind his stare, your pulse fluttering in your neck.

"Depends," he murmured. "Some are faster than others, but I prefer to go slow and take my time. Anythin' worthwhile takes time. Gotta show it respect, gotta care for it."

His low and sultry tone made your face flush, forgetting for a moment you were talking about woodworking.

"Y-yeah," you stammered, clearing your throat. Suddenly, you were feeling short of breath. "That makes sense."

He gazed down at you for another moment, his eyes slowly raking over your face as if committing it to memory before speaking again. Your entire body felt hot, and you cursed yourself for wearing such a thick sweater.

"Ready to go upstairs?" he murmured, still staring at you in a way that made your spine tingle.

"Huh?" you whispered, completely entranced by his deep, brown eyes.

"The presents?" he reminded you with a small smirk.

"Oh, right," you said, finally blinking and looking away. You shakily opened your water bottle after he turned around to lead you to the stairs, your mouth suddenly extremely dry.

As you walked up the steps, you tried to get a look at the pictures that lined the wall, but it was difficult to do without tripping. You thought you had finally gotten your head on straight after that moment in the kitchen, but when you realized he was leading you to his bedroom, you felt the tremble return to your hands.

"Sorry, had to hide everythin' in my closet, she's too nosy," he said over his shoulder.

"No problem," you squeaked, trying not to stare at his neatly made bed. Your eyes briefly drifted over the end tables filled with personal effects. You thought you saw a chapstick, a cord for a phone charger, and a worn paperback book, but you didn't want him to catch you, so you looked away quickly.

He opened his closet and you were surprised to find his clothes packed away so neatly. For a bachelor, he kept a really clean house. He pulled out the bags of gifts from the shelf above his clothes, then the wrapping paper, which was leaning against the corner.

"D'you think we got enough room?" he asked, glancing around at the floor.

"Yeah, of course," you said, sitting down crossed legged on the carpet. You reached out for the wrapping paper and rolled it out in front of you as he sat down at your side, taking out her gifts one by one. You felt yourself involuntarily clench as you watched his large hands deftly lay out each item on the floor, his muscles twitching slightly under the tanned skin of his exposed forearms.

"I know what you're thinkin'," he said, and your eyes widened in surprise. "I spoil her, I know, but she's such a good kid, I can't help myself."

That was definitely not what you were thinking, but you chose to keep that to yourself.

"I think it's sweet," you told him. "You seem like a really good dad."

Now it was his turn to blush. He tried to turn his head away so you wouldn't see, murmuring his thanks as you each picked an item to start. After a quick tutorial, which included way too much tape and ripped paper, Joel finally seemed to get the technique down. It only took until about halfway through the pile for you to muster up the courage to bring up a topic you couldn't help but be curious about.

"So," you began, hoping you came off nonchalant. "Is Sarah with her mom this Christmas, or..."

Joel's fingers fumbled for a moment with the wrapping paper, but he quickly recovered.

"Uh, no," he replied, keeping his eyes cast down on the shoe box in front of him. "She's not in Sarah's life anymore."

"Oh," you said, unable to keep the surprise from your voice, but you didn't push him any further. Your mind was scrambling, trying to think of something else to talk about, when he sighed and leaned back, abandoning the gift.

"I'm sorry, this is all so new to me, I probably should've told you about her sooner," he said, feeling guilty, but you quickly shook your head.

"No, you don't have to-"

"I want to," he said, cutting you off. You clamped your mouth shut and turned your body so you could give him your full attention, leaving the hair dryer you were wrapping on the floor next to you.

He drew a shaky breath in and looked up at the ceiling before speaking.

"There's not much to say, really. I'm still not always sure what happened," he began. You nodded, staying quiet and letting him take his time. "We were together since high school, ended up stayin' together after graduation. Sarah was a surprise, we were both still so young but we made it work. It was hard, but once me and Tommy got the business goin', it made things a bit easier."

Your fingers tangled together in your lap as you listened, refusing to say anything until he was done. His gaze drifted towards a fixed point on the wall as he continued.

"From what I gathered, she felt like havin' Sarah so young robbed her from doin' certain things in life," he said heavily. "Said she couldn't do it anymore. Didn't want her life to pass her by and be full of regret."

You bit your lip. The pain was clear as day on his face and it was making your chest ache.

"Well, anyway. I thought maybe she would go off for a couple months, do whatever it was she thought she was missin' out on. Parties, college... other men," he added the last part quietly, and you dropped your gaze to the floor. "Get it out of her system, y'know? But she just... never came back. Eventually, the calls came less and less, and I put two and two together. Didn't even get a courtesy call before I got served with the papers."

He rubbed his eyes, trying so hard not to look like a blubbering idiot in front of you. You reached your hand out and placed it gently on his knee, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He dropped his hand from his face to cover yours, staring at your coupled hands for a moment.

"Joel-"

"It was just so fuckin' hard on Sarah, y'know?" he said, his voice cracking. "I had no idea what to tell her. She cried almost every night, askin' me why her mom didn't love her anymore."

"Oh, Joel," you whispered, unable to hold back any longer. You closed the small gap between you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him into your chest, your fingers gently raking through his hair. "I'm so sorry," you told him, burying your nose in the hair on top of his head, breathing in the citrus scent from his shampoo.

He didn't say a word. He just tugged you closer and closed his eyes, leaning into your comforting touch with a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed to croak out. "I'm throwin' way too much at you, I know you didn't sign up for this."

"Shh," you whispered into his hair, then tilted his face up to look at you, his dark brown eyes glassy with unshed tears. "It's okay," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. A solitary tear slipped down his cheek when he pulled back to look deep into your eyes.

"It's okay," you repeated, wiping away the tear with the pad of your thumb before placing another gentle kiss against his lips.

He hummed contently against your mouth, sliding his hand up to the back of your neck and pressing his lips more firmly against your own, scared to let you go because if he did, he was sure he would fall apart.

Your grip on his hair tightened as he leaned forward, one strong arm wrapped around your midsection and the other pressed against your back. You mumbled something against his mouth when he tried to lay you down and knocked over a small pile of DVDs.

"Fuck," he whispered and, oh god, the way he said it made your legs turn to jelly and your cheeks flare with heat.

Frustrated, he tightened his grip around you and lifted you up, refusing to break the kiss. A tiny, high pitched squeak slipped past your lips as you wrapped your legs around his hips, letting him carry you to his bed.

He laid you down carefully on top of his plush, navy striped comforter. You sighed into his mouth, your legs loosening around his waist and falling open while you dragged your hands out of his hair and down to his shoulders, wrapping your fingers around his biceps to keep him close. He hovered above you, balancing all his weight on his elbows while his fingers played with the ends of your impossibly soft hair.

He slipped his tongue easily past your lips with a low groan, the noise going straight to your core, making the ache between your legs almost painful while your tongue danced with his, the two already so familiar with each other.

You tipped your head back with a gasp, desperate for air, but he kept going, unable to stop himself. His lips brushed against your jaw before his teeth and prickly beard scraped against the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. You let out a needy whimper and arched your back at the sensation, pushing your breasts into his broad chest as goosebumps spread over your whole body.

"Oh god, Joel," you whined softly, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Yeah, baby?" he replied, his voice thick and muffled against your neck. Baby. Jesus, this man was unraveling you so fast, it was making your head spin.

"I-I know we said this was casual, but-" the words got trapped in your throat as you cut yourself off, unable to finish your thought.

"I know," he said, his voice strained. "Fuck, I know."

He lifted his head away from your neck as he stared down at you, patting your hair back and away from your face as he panted slightly for breath.

You looked up at him, eyes watering as you tried not to think about your time coming to an end in a couple short weeks. You could tell he was thinking the same but didn't want to say it, the pain behind his eyes was obvious.

He blinked a couple times, the clouds clearing as he forced himself to focus on the present. He had you here in his arms, in his bed, underneath him right now. And he was going to be damned if he didn't soak up every single second.

He leaned back down and locked his lips on yours again, this time moving slower, more gentle and tender. He wanted to treat you right. You deserved it, and he wasn't going to give you anything less than what you deserved while he still had you.

You loosened your grip on his arms and allowed your hands to drift to the buttons of his flannel, slowly and shakily undoing them. His heart began to slam against his chest when he realized what you were doing, his mind going fuzzy with desire.

He pulled his head back when you were about halfway down his shirt, looking down hazily at your fingers working open the buttons as he desperately tried to think straight.

"Dad?" Sarah called from downstairs, the front door slamming shut. "Are you here?"

"Shit," Joel mumbled, scrambling off of you as he clumsily tried to redo his buttons. You jumped off the bed, leaning over so you could see into the mirror above his dresser, raking your hands through your tangled hair and quickly fixing your sweater.

"Yeah!" Joel shouted back, glancing over at you to make sure you were decent. "Sorry," he whispered, but you just grinned. Then his eyes fell to the half wrapped presents on the floor.

"Wait! Don't come up-" he called out as he heard her skipping up the steps. Joel grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the room, closing the door behind you both just in time.

"What? Why?" Sarah asked, then froze when she saw you. She looked up at Joel, then back to you, and a slow smile spread across her face.

"Ohhh..." she said with her hands on her hips. "Now I see."

"N-no, it's not what it looks like, she was just helpin' me wrap some gifts," Joel stammered, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. You shifted your weight nervously as you looked back and forth between them.

"Then why are you missing a button on your shirt?"

You both glanced down at his flannel, and she was right. He missed fixing a button in all the chaos. Your face flushed beet red as you stared at the ground while Joel hurriedly fixed the button, cursing under his breath. When you dared to look back up at his daughter, she was smirking playfully at you. Joel cleared his throat.

"Sarah, this is-"

"Yeah, I know, I remember from the party. The pretty dress, right?" she asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah, that's right. Nice to see you again," you said awkwardly.

She nodded, still smirking and looking at you and Joel. You could tell she loved catching her dad in this uncomfortable situation.

"Oh, crap. I forgot. Uncle Tommy is waiting for you in the driveway, said he needed your help unloading some work stuff out from the back of his truck," Sarah said.

"Ah, dammit, alright. You okay for a couple minutes?" he asked you, eyebrows raised.

"Of course," you said. He nodded, walking down the hall past Sarah, muttering "be good" to her as he walked by.

You listened as Joel made his way down the stairs and out the front door, leaving you and Sarah in silence, still staring at one another.

"I'm sorry, we really were wrapping gifts," you assured her.

"It's okay," she said with a shrug. "Last year he used duct tape on my presents, I know he needs the help."

You giggled, causing her to laugh, as well.

"Do you play an instrument?" you asked, just noticing the case on the floor next to her feet.

"Yeah, violin. I had practice after school today," she said, picking it up.

"Oh, cool. I played piano growing up, but I was never any good," you said, sliding your hands in the back pockets of your jeans.

"I have my school's Christmas recital on Friday," she said. "My first solo."

"Oh my god!" you said, clapping your hands together, genuinely impressed. "That's incredible! You must be so excited!"

"Yeah, at first, but now I'm getting nervous," she said, glancing down at the case in her hand. "You wanna hear me play?"

"Duh. Absolutely," you said with a grin. Her eyes lit up and a huge smile spread across her face again.

"O-okay. This is my room right here," she said, turning to her right and opening the door. "Sorry it's messy, my dad's gonna kill me."

"It's totally fine," you said, walking in and sitting down at the edge of her bed. You glanced around the room as she set up her music stand. On the pink walls, she had posters up of her favorite bands with a calendar and string lights draped across the room.

"I really like your room," you said, squinting to look at the stickers and drawings she had on her headboard.

"Thanks," she said sheepishly. "My dad let me do whatever I wanted."

You were about to comment on the various trophies she had on her windowsill when Sarah spoke again.

"Just so you know, I don't mind that you're seeing my dad."

Your eyes shot up to hers in surprise, not sure what to say. You hadn't really had a chance to talk to Joel about your relationship and how that would affect his daughter.

"He's been in such a good mood this past week, and he won't tell me but I know it's because of you," she said, pinning you with a familiar brown gaze.

"Oh, that's so sweet, Sarah," you said, finally finding your voice. "Thank you. That means a lot."

"You're welcome," she said. "I just want him to be happy again."

You dropped your gaze to your lap, your chest tightening at the thought of Joel being so lonely all these years.

"Me, too," you whispered, still looking down. Sarah regarded you for a minute before slapping her palms against the tops of her thighs and leaned down to pick up her violin.

"You ready?" she asked. You looked up and nodded, giving her an encouraging smile and sat back to listen as she began playing a hauntingly beautiful version of 'Silent Night'.

Sarah got about halfway through the song when she hit the wrong note and abruptly stopped, dropping her chin to her chest in frustration.

"Hey, it's okay," Joel heard you say softly as he walked back up the stairs. He paused at the top, right outside Sarah's room to listen.

"It's okay to make mistakes. Just go slower, take your time. Anything worthwhile takes time," you told her, and he smiled when he heard his earlier words to you repeated back to his daughter. He took a step forward to lean against the doorframe and watch the two of you, your back to him as you sat on her bed.

"Okay," Sarah said, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes before lifting the violin to her chin and starting over.

Joel listened to Sarah play the same song he's heard a million times already in just the past month alone, but kept his eyes trained on you. The way you gave her your full, undivided attention and encouraged her with a smile or a thumbs up when she would glance over at you shyly made his chest ache.

When Sarah successfully finished the song with no mistakes, you jumped up from the bed, clapping and cheering for her, making Sarah giggle and hide behind her hands.

Fuck, this was going to be so hard.

"Dad?" Sarah asked the next morning over her bowl of cereal.

"Yeah, baby girl?" he replied, frowning as he pulled his bread from the toaster. He sucked his fingertips into his mouth, trying to bring some relief to the quickly reddening skin.

"Can your friend come to my recital tomorrow?"

Joel froze, his fingers still pressed against his tongue as he slowly turned around to look at her. He dropped his hand and took a deep breath.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," he replied.

"You don't think she would wanna go?" Sarah asked, her eyebrows pinched together.

"No, it's not that, I'm sure she would," he said, trying to find the right words.

"Then what's the problem?"

Joel sighed and picked his mug up from the counter, then walked over to join her at the table.

"She doesn't live here, baby. She's goin' back to New York in another week or so, I don't want you gettin' too attached," he finally admitted, watching Sarah closely as she considered his words.

"Well, you guys like each other, right?" she asked, and Joel smirked.

"Yeah, but it ain't that simple."

"Yes, it is, Dad," she said, rolling her eyes and dipping her spoon back into her bowl. "My friend Katy was dating this guy last year and he switched schools over the summer. They're still together, it doesn't matter," Sarah said with a shrug, taking a bite of cereal.

If the topic didn't fill Joel with a sense of dread, he would have chuckled at the comparison, but instead he just sat there quietly, watching his daughter as she finished her cereal and scrolled on her phone.

Sarah pulled on her backpack and was sliding on her sneakers to catch the bus when she called back to Joel over her shoulder.

"Just ask her, okay? Please, Dad?"

Joel sighed, hanging his head between his shoulders and paused his hands over the dishes in the sink.

"Alright," he relented, and he heard Sarah clap her hands behind him before slamming the front door shut.

You: good morning :)

Joel Miller: Good Morning, sweetheart. I didn't think you would be up this early.

You: couldn't fall back asleep. What are you doing

Joel Miller: Just getting to work. Why couldn't you fall back asleep?

You thought about it for a minute from under the pile of blankets on your bed, rolling to your side before answering.

You: I was thinking about you...

Joel Miller: Good thoughts, I hope?

You: VERY ;)

His throat went dry when he opened the text. He glanced around outside his car window, making sure he was still the only one on the job site before replying.

Joel Miller: What are you trying to tell me, baby?

You smirked and bit down on your lip.

You: I was wishing you were in bed with me right now

"Shit," he muttered to himself, glancing around once again before adjusting his pants.

Joel Miller: Me too, what are you wearing?

The answer came back almost immediately.

You: nothing

He groaned and rubbed his palms roughly over his face.

Joel Miller: You're killing me, baby. I have to get working in a minute.

You: i'm sorry ;)

You: I promised my parents I would go to dinner with them tonight, but are you free tomorrow?

Joel took a deep breath, trying to clear the onslaught of inappropriate thoughts from his head when he remembered his promise to Sarah.

Joel Miller: It's Sarah's recital tomorrow night. She asked me to invite you this morning, did you want to go?

He nervously chewed his cheek for a moment before sending another text.

Joel Miller: No pressure, I can tell her you're busy.

He sent his second text right as your reply came through.

You: I would love to!

He grinned and raked his fingers through his hair. Tommy's knuckles tapped on the outside of Joel's window, making him jump. He held up a finger before sending you a quick answer.

Joel Miller: Sounds great. I'll pick you up. Try to go back to sleep. Dream of me.

Joel opened the door and slid his phone in his back pocket, a stupid grin etched across his face as he joined his brother in the half-built storefront they were working on.

"Oh man, you got it bad," Tommy said with a chuckle when he saw the look on Joel's face.

"Alright, what do you think of this one?" you asked Cassie as you stepped out of the bathroom modeling the sixth dress of the day.

"I liked the red one better," she said, glancing up from her phone.

"Are you sure? This one is a little more chic," you said, twisting around to look at your backside in the mirror.

"It's a high school recital, Buck. I don't think anyone is expecting 'chic'," she teased, and you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I just want to look nice, is all," you said, sitting next to her on your bed in a huff. You tapped your phone screen, frowning when all you had was another text from Sydney and nothing from Joel. You opened it up anyway, curiosity getting the best of you.

Sydney: OMG!!!!!!

You sent back three question marks and locked your phone with a sigh.

"You still wanna get together next week so we can look at apartments online for you?" she asked.

"Yeah," you said sadly, looking out the window.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you told her. "Just not ready to go back yet."

"Could that be because of a certain sexy contractor?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Shut up," you smirked, tossing a pillow at her lightly.

"Ooo you like him! Lookit how red you're getting!"

"I'm gonna kill you when that baby's out, you know that, right?" you giggled.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Cassie said, looking back down at her phone as the smile slowly faded from her face. "You know you don't have to go back, right?"

"What do you mean? My job is there, my life is there... everything is there," you replied. "Of course I have to go back."

"What life, though?" she asked, and you frowned at her. "Seriously, Buck. Aside from your job, which you hate, what's left?"

"Well, my friends are there. And I don't hate my job that much. I mean, everyone hates their job a little bit," you said with a shrug.

"Is this what you expected to do when you were in college? Is this what you wanted?" Cassie pressed, sitting up on the bed. "Are you even happy?"

You paused, letting her words roll around in your head for a moment.

"Well, I mean..." you trailed off, not sure how to answer her question.

"If you have to think about it this long, I think you know the answer," your sister said quietly. You groaned and rolled off the bed.

"I'm going back. I have to. I can't just give up because some guy broke my heart," you said, turning around so she could unzip the back of your dress.

"I'm just saying, think about it," Cassie replied. "I wouldn't hate it if my child's aunt was in their life more than twice a year!" she called after you as you shut the door to the bathroom.

Joel eagerly jogged up the porch steps and rang the doorbell, very aware of the camera this time while he fiddled with the cuffs on his dark red button down shirt. He heard high heels clicking on the other side of the door and the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, which quickly vanished when you opened the door and he saw the dress you were wearing.

"Hi," you said with a shy smile, pulling a soft looking white cardigan on over your shoulders.

He thought he had greeted you. He could have sworn he said something, anything, that didn't make him look like a complete idiot, but apparently nothing came out because you scrunched your eyebrows together when you saw his face.

"Are you okay?" you asked, pulling the door shut behind you.

"Yeah, it's just - Jesus, you look so good," he managed to finally say, tilting his head back to stare up at the roof of the porch for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"Thank you," you said with a giggle. "You don't look half bad, yourself."

He rubbed his forehead, exasperated and flustered before pulling you quickly into his arms and latching his mouth onto yours with a groan.

"Joel," you pulled back breathlessly with a small smile and leaned your head to the side, trying to silently remind him of the doorbell. His eyes raked over you hungrily before shaking his head and pulling you back into a deep kiss.

Fuck the camera, let them see.

You giggled against his mouth, causing him to smile and break the kiss.

"Come on, I wanna get good seats," you said, rubbing your thumb over his lower lip to wipe off your lipstick that transferred. It caused his stomach to clench. That sweet, little intimate gesture made him ache for more so badly that he could hardly breathe.

He walked you around the front of his truck, opening the door and giving you a hand so you could hop onto the seat, the gorgeous red dress you were wearing hugging your curves just right and distracting him to no end.

On the walk around to the driver's side, he mentally scolded himself, reminding himself over and over that tonight was a big deal for his little girl and he needed to stay focused.

As he drove down the street, he realized that his hand instinctively found yours across the seat, his body craving the warmth and softness of your own. How on earth was he going to go back to the life he had before, now that he knows what it's like to bask in the heat of your touch?

Once he got to the school, he found a parking spot and jumped out of the truck. You had figured out by now that he preferred you to wait so he could open the car door for you, so you did. Swinging your legs over the side of the seat, you slid down into his waiting arms, your hands gently coming to rest on the tops of his shoulders. He gazed down at you with his arms loosely hanging around your waist. You saw his adam's apple bob in his throat while he let himself get lost in your warm, beautiful eyes. You lifted a finger from his shoulder, tracing an invisible line down the side of his cheek as you stared up at him with your plush lips parted so invitingly that it made his knees weak.

"Joel! Hey!" Tommy's voice called out from behind, snapping you both out of the moment. Joel sighed and untangled himself from you, taking your hand and leading you forward so he could shut the door before turning around to find his brother.

You could see the family resemblance immediately as Tommy approached you with a wide grin. His hair was a bit darker and a lot longer, and his beard was less full than Joel's, but he had the same soft, brown eyes that you had grown to know and love.

Love? Oh, no.

"Hey, Tommy," Joel said as he got closer, his hand pressed firmly on the small of your back. "This is-"

"Oh, I know who she is. How're you doin', darlin'?" Tommy asked, pulling you into a bear hug, taking you by surprise.

"I-I'm good," you squeaked shyly once he released you. "Nice to meet you."

"I've been dyin' to meet the little lady who's got my brother all wrapped up," he replied with a grin.

"Tommy!" Joel seethed warningly at your side, but you just giggled.

"I'm just messin' around. She knows that, right?" he said, shoving his hands in his coat pocket and rolling on the balls of his feet. "Supposed to snow next week, can you believe it?"

"Yeah, I heard we might get a couple feet," Joel said, steering you toward the doors to the auditorium. "Better get your shovel ready."

You settled in between the two brothers as you found a decent spot in the fourth row. Joel draped his arm around the back of your chair while he chatted with Tommy about work. You inadvertently leaned to the side and rested your shoulder against his chest as you glanced around the room, admiring the lit up garlands around the windows and Christmas trees on the stage with fake presents underneath.

When their conversation died down, Tommy pulled out his phone and began scrolling through social media, holding it low between his spread knees with his chin tucked into his chest.

Joel tilted his face forward to press his lips on the top of your head, breathing in a deep and contented breath. A small smile played across your lips as you turned your gaze up towards him, resting your cheek gently on his shoulder. He looked down at you with a smile and planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, and as each of you slid your eyes closed for a moment, Tommy angled his phone to snap a quick picture, smiling to himself and making a mental note to show his brother later.

The lights dimmed and you all straightened up in your seats. You listened to the music teacher make a small speech at the beginning and politely clapped afterwards. You saw Sarah twice throughout the concert as part of the orchestra, smiling at how focused and beautiful she looked in her white dress. As the concert wound down, Sarah finally came out on stage for her solo, and the three of you eagerly leaned forward. At the last minute, you remembered to pull out your phone and start a video, telling yourself you were doing it for Joel so that he could be in the moment, but you knew you would end up watching it by yourself when you went back to New York City.

The performance was flawless. When it was over, the three of you lept up from your seats, cheering, jumping and clapping, making her wave and blush as she exited the stage. You sat down, giggling, as the people surrounding you gave you all polite smiles and chuckles, then quieted down for the finale.

When the lights came back up, everyone stood from their seats, murmuring and laughing while waiting for their kids to come out from backstage and take pictures. You saw a flash of white out of the corner of your eye and moved out of the way just in time for Sarah to run and jump up into Joel's arms, burying her face in his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut, his arms wrapped around her tightly, murmuring praise in her ear. You felt warmth spread across your chest as you watched them have their moment, the corners of your mouth turned up into a smile with your hands clasped together against your chest.

He let her down gently and she turned to give Tommy a quick hug. He spun her around, making her giggle and fidget with her dress before she turned to you.

"You came!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms loosely around your waist. Your eyes widened in surprise, not expecting such affection from her, but you quickly returned the hug.

"Of course I came! Thank you for inviting me," you said, pulling back with a grin. "You were absolutely perfect, I took a video, I'll send it to your dad so he can show you later."

"I did exactly what you told me, I slowed down and took my time," she beamed, and it gave you a new feeling deep in your chest that you never felt before.

"That's great, Sarah," you replied, your throat tight with emotion. Tommy dropped his gaze from you and ticked his jaw to the side, finally understanding why Joel was hesitant to let Sarah know about the two of you.

"Dad?" Sarah asked, turning away from you. "Can I sleep over at Katy's? She's having a bunch of girls over and her mom said it was okay."

"Uh, sure, baby girl. Don't you need clothes and stuff?"

"I have stuff I keep here in my locker for gym," she said.

"Well, alright, lemme talk to her mom first," he replied, glancing around the room.

"Thank you! She's right over here," she said, grabbing his hand. "Thanks for coming!" she called back last minute over her shoulder to you and Tommy, and you both smiled and waved as she dragged her father across the room.

"She's so talented," you said, turning to Tommy. He looked down at you and gave you a weak smile.

"Yeah, she's somethin' else," he said with a nod. "Hey, listen. I'm havin' a get together next week at my house. Little Christmas party, I guess. I invited a guy I met at your parents' house - Josh? He's comin' with his wife, Joel and Sarah'll be there, I'd love for you to come by if you can."

"Josh is my brother in law," you clarified for him. "That sounds great, I'll be there, thank you."

"You're welcome," Tommy said, then his brows pinched together as he opened his mouth again to speak. "Joel might kill me for sayin' this, but you gotta know how happy you've -"

"Ready to go?" Joel asked, sneaking up beside you. Tommy cleared his throat and gave his brother an innocent smile.

"Yep," you replied, dropping your hand to find his at your side, lacing your fingers together and giving him a gentle squeeze.

After saying goodbye to Tommy, Joel slowly led you through the parking lot to his truck, desperately trying to think of something else you could do, not ready to drop you off yet. He knew the time you had together was coming to an end, and he wanted to soak up every precious second. Especially after the way he saw you with Sarah: so warm and sweet and patient. He couldn't remember the last time he saw his daughter's eyes light up that way.

He prided himself on being a good father since his wife left. Always making sure to put Sarah first, that she got everything she could ever want or need. Especially his love. When his ex abandoned them, he made sure Sarah got every ounce of love he had, hoping it would help make up for the loss. But as hard as he tried, he could never fully fill both roles. There were just some things that a mother provided for her daughter that Joel couldn't give.

He didn't realize it until he saw you with Sarah earlier that night, and then it felt like everything shifted into focus for the first time in his life.

He held out his hand to help you get back into his truck, making sure your legs were safely tucked in before he gently shut the door.

Sitting in the driver's seat gripping the steering wheel, he stared straight ahead for a moment in complete silence, the keys still in his coat pocket while his mind reeled.

"Is everything okay?" you asked timidly. He blinked and turned to you.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. He swallowed and looked at his watch.

"You wanna get coffee or somethin'? I know it's gettin' late but I'm sure some place's open," he said, deep in thought as he considered the cafés nearby.

"Don't you have coffee at your house?" you asked shyly. His eyes snapped up to yours and he saw the flush creeping up your neck and the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

Oh.

"Yeah, yes," he croaked, nervously clearing his throat. "Let's do that. I have- yeah, good idea," he stammered, fumbling with the keys in his pocket.

You smirked as you watched his shaky hand turn the key in the ignition. He twisted around to back out of the parking spot, and this time you gave into temptation, unbuckling your seatbelt so you could slide over and tuck yourself under his arm. He immediately pulled you closer, not even caring that you weren't wearing your seatbelt. He would make sure to drive safe. Nothing could possibly ruin that night. He wouldn't let it.

At stop lights, you would run your hand up his chest and plant small kisses against the corner of his mouth, filling him with a radiating bliss he never felt before.

Once you got back to his house, you shrugged off your sweater and trailed behind him as he made his way into the kitchen. You leaned against the wall and watched as he opened one of the cupboards - the one with the small birds carved into the bottom - and pulled down a can of coffee.

"I don't think I have any decaf," he said turning to look at you.

"I don't want coffee, Joel," you said lowly. He swallowed roughly and put the can on the counter.

"What d'you want, then?"

You pushed yourself off the wall and slowly walked towards him, his eyes skating up and down your body as you approached. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you tilted your face up to gaze at him, your mouth hovering over his own.

"I want you."

His eyes fluttered closed as your lips slotted against his, his rough hands immediately coming up to cup your smooth face, holding you firmly against his mouth. Christ, he would never get tired of kissing you. If he could do it every single day for the rest of his life, he would. He knew it seemed crazy. He knew you just met, but he couldn't help the way you made him feel.

"Let's go upstairs," you whispered, nipping at his lower lip.

He couldn't speak. He just nodded in a daze and let you lead him coyly up the steps, then turned around to walk backwards down the hall towards his bedroom so you could pull him tightly against your body. His big hands gripped your waist while his tongue slipped past your lips, searching for its mate.

You reached behind you blindly, your hand fighting with the doorknob as his big frame caged you in against the wood, his masculine scent invading your senses and making it difficult to think. Finally, the door swung open and you both stumbled in, a giggle erupting from your throat as your fingers got to work undoing the buttons on his dress shirt.

You hurriedly tugged his button down off, leaving it in a heap on the floor as you slid your palms underneath the white t-shirt he had on, feeling the warm skin of his stomach and chest for the first time.

"Off," you whispered, your heart getting stuck in your throat when he yanked the shirt over his head, leaving his upper body completely bare to you. Your mouth went dry as you drank him in, then lunged forward, your lips brushing up his sternum until you reached his collarbone. You sucked on a bit of tanned skin there with a moan, then slipped your tongue out to press wetly against the red mark you left, feeling drunk off the taste of his sweat.

He gently pushed you backwards so he could ease you down onto his bed, his breath growing erratic and desperate with each little bite you left on his chest. God, has anyone ever desired him this much before? Has he really been missing out on this his entire life?

"Baby, we're gonna have to stop soon if you don't want this to go any further," he murmured. He found himself in the familiar position of hovering above you while his hand slid down your leg and toyed with the hem of your dress.

"I don't think I can take much more, tell me to stop," he whispered when you didn't answer, running the tip of his nose softly against your cheek.

"I don't want you to stop," you gasped as his fingers slipped underneath your dress. You tilted your head back and moaned when you felt his fingertips brush against the damp fabric of your panties.

His mouth hungrily devoured the exposed cleavage of your breasts, growing frustrated with the fabric of your dress keeping him from seeing all of you.

"Sit up," he demanded, leaning back and pulling his hand from between your legs. You obeyed, and he made short work of your zipper, pulling it all the way down so you could shimmy out, leaving you in just your underwear.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered when he realized you weren't wearing a bra. You let yourself fall back gently on the bed, spreading your arms out above your head so he could see every inch of you in the moonlight.

He couldn't believe this was actually happening. He kept waiting for his alarm to go off and reality to slap him across the face, but it never came. His heart was pounding so fast, he was sure you could hear it as he leaned back down and nibbled at your exposed jaw while his calloused hand cupped your soft breast, his thumb flicking over your hardening nipple.

You scraped your nails over his shoulders and down his chest as you arched your back, pressing into his hand, needing to feel the heat of his skin against your own. Your stomach flipped as you made your way down to his belt, and with shaky fingers, pulled hastily at the leather.

Yanking the belt through the loops with one swift motion, you flung it across the room, making him chuckle against your skin. When you started to work on popping open the button on his dress pants, a devastating thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Shit, wait," he said, putting his hand on top of yours. You frowned up at him, your chest heaving, as you gave him a confused look.

"I don't have any protection," he said through gritted teeth. He hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut angrily. "I-I haven't been with anyone since my ex, and I never thought... fuck," he said, clenching his jaw.

You weighed your options for about half a second before tugging his chin up, forcing him to look at you.

"I'm still on birth control," you told him, searching his eyes. "I mean, only if you're comfortable with it, we don't have to," you said, but in your head you were chanting please, please, please.

"Are you sure?" he asked, panting for air. "I don't wanna make you feel like -"

"Yes," you said, cutting him off by grabbing his face. "Yes. I'm sure, Joel. Please," you whimpered, pulling him back down to you, his mouth crashing down on yours again.

"Please," you whispered again, tipping your head back as his lips left a trail of soft kisses down your throat. "Please, Joel, I need you."

His mouth stuttered against your neck. Hearing you beg and say you needed him when he never thought he would ever be needed like this in his whole life made his mind go blank.

"Okay," he rasped. "Okay, baby."

He tugged at the zipper on his black pants and pulled them off as quickly as he could without leaving you. You reached down to help him, hooking your fingers over the band of his boxers and shoving them down. He kicked them off before yanking down your panties, dropping them on the floor next to his clothes.

You eagerly spread your legs so he could settle his hips between them. You glanced down with a small gasp when you saw the size of him and you felt your cheeks flare. Jesus Christ.

He didn't seem to notice your reaction when he was too wrapped up in staring at the wet heat between your legs, pulsing and waiting, just for him. He slid a finger gently between your folds, making you moan and your back arch. Fuck, he loved how responsive you were to his touch.

He readjusted so he was kneeling between your legs. His palms slid up your calves, past your knees and to your inner thighs, pressing them down into the mattress so you were spread wide.

He lined himself up at your center, glancing up at you quickly to make sure you were ready. You swallowed and nodded, your eyes filled with desire, desire for him, something he still couldn't fathom but decided not to question. He pressed forward gently, notching himself against you before falling forward on his elbows.

He kissed the tip of your nose as he eased himself inside you, pausing when he heard you gasp and felt you tense under him.

"More," you finally croaked, your nails coming up to rake against his scalp. He let out the breath he was holding and pushed in further, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth falling open as he felt you slowly stretch around him so perfectly, like you were made just for him.

"Oh, god," he sighed, dropping his face to the crook of your neck after he fully sheathed himself inside you. He dragged his mouth across your chest, leaving a wet trail from his tongue and red marks from his scratchy beard in his wake. He waited until he felt your muscles relax under him before he slowly rolled his hips, dragging himself in and out as his teeth scraped over your tightening nipples. You moaned his name softly, the sound permanently etched in his brain, a sound he will refuse to forget for the rest of his life.

He began to roll his hips faster at your encouragement, becoming obsessed with the way you felt and the sounds you made, and it was all for him. He spent so much of his life giving to everyone around him, he never truly felt like anyone was able or willing to give him what he needed in return until now. The recognition was depressing and freeing at the same time. Now that he finally had what he always wanted, what he always needed, he was going to lose you and there was nothing he could do about it.

Each moan from your throat and each kiss from your lips dragged him down deeper and deeper until he collided head first with the stunning, yet so painfully obvious, realization that he was deliriously in love with you. It was insane, he knew that. But it didn't make it any less true.

"Joel," you gasped, pulling him out of his trance and back to the present.

"Yeah, baby? I'm here. I'm right here," he whispered, planting soft kisses all over your face.

You bit down on your lower lip and squeezed your eyes shut. The sheer intensity behind his gaze coupled with the agony of only getting to experience this for one more short week made tears burn in the backs of your eyes.

You felt your orgasm begin to swell deep in your belly while your breath became more ragged and your vision went spotty. It shouldn't feel this good. This was cruel, to be able to experience something like this just to have it brutally ripped away from you. It wasn't fair, yet you never wanted it to stop.

He could feel it. It's been years, and it was never, ever like this, but he still knew. The way you whimpered and clawed at his back while your walls squeezed him so tightly, he thought he might pass out.

"Open your eyes," he panted. "I wanna look at you."

You forced your eyes open, now unable to hold back the tears that pooled there as two drops trickled down the side of your face, getting lost in your hair.

"It's okay, I got you," he whispered lovingly, staring deep into your eyes, seeing everything you didn't dare say out loud.

"You can let go, baby," he told you, his hips snapping against you ruthlessly, desperate to come at the same time.

You felt the wave rip through you like fire, the power and emotion behind it unlike anything you ever felt before. More tears poured from your eyes as you cried out his name, your thighs squeezing his hips so tightly you weren't sure you would be able to stand after.

He followed seconds later with a deep groan, spilling himself deep inside you while murmuring praise and wiping away your tears with his thumb.

"Why're you cryin', did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice filled with so much concern that it broke your heart. You shook your head, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand, but fresh ones just took their place.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, leaning up a bit as he softened inside you.

"What are we gonna do, Joel?" you blubbered pathetically. He took a shaky breath in and tenderly tucked your hair behind your ear.

"I don't know, baby, but we'll figure somethin' out. We gotta," he said with a sigh.

"I can't lose you," you whispered, pressing your forehead against his and closing your eyes.

"You'll never lose me, I can promise you that," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss against your swollen lips.

He waited until your tears slowed down before sliding out of you with a hiss. Rolling off to your side, he wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you close against his chest, and as you finally drifted off in his embrace, he thought about all of the options available before you, determined to find a solution.

Tag list: @lola8888673 @pedropascalsbbg @nandan11 @sushiumex @serenadingtigers @jjlevin @survivingandenduring @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @merz-8 @wonyoungismind @fandomscollide @anoverwhelmingdin @cayleejx16 @msjjekyll @lizzie-cakes @hexedbywanda @harriedandharassed @joeldjarin - lmk if i missed anyone, if your name is crossed out it means it won't let me tag you

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rogueddie · 3 months

Text

Hair Care T | 1,749 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is what makes you brave

Steve learnt early on that if he makes his hair all soft, fluffy and big, then girls would play with his hair. He's always loved having people touching his hair.

But after the Demogorgon, after he gets his act together? Suddenly, no one wants to touch his hair. No one comments on it, or even looks at it like they're so much as thinking about it.

And it is driving Steve insane.

"I can't just ask for it!" He complains. "That's weird and- and what if they take it the wrong way? What if I sound too weird or desperate?"

"I'm the wrong person for the weird complaint," Eddie points out. "And I still don't get the problem. What about Robin?"

Robin is convinced that all his little lines, trying to encourage attention towards his hair as subtly as he can, are all pick-up lines.

To be fair to her, she has only ever seen him using said lines when he's flirting. But they're supposed to be little hints, a nudge and a wink. Friendly- playful even.

But, because of that, he has a nasty feeling that she would take any hint or request about his hair as romantic. And the last thing Steve wants to do is make Robin uncomfortable.

"Ok, yeah, I see the problem there," Eddie hums, considering. "What about the kids? El and Max. They adore you and love playing with each others hair."

El had asked to play with his hair once.

She'd heard, somehow, that his hair is 'famous' in Hawkins and had wanted to see why. She encouraged Max to join her, even though she mostly ended up petting him like a dog.

Max had seemed to enjoy it more than El, but not by much, and the snickers from the other kids had been enough for him to refuse to let them "go again".

He's the babysitter, he needs at least some dignity.

"But did you like it?" Eddie presses.

"Well, yeah," Steve mumbles, snuffing his slipper on the carpet. "It was nice or whatever. Not worth the jabs though."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Didn't feel worth it."

"Hmm..." Eddie pauses again, frowning as he looks him over. "Well... what was it specifically about what they did that was so nice? Has anyone else done that for you?"

Tommy used to play with his hair constantly. He was a quick learner and, with how much Carol visibly and vocally enjoyed watching them, there wasn't any shame.

They both seemed to enjoy themselves more whenever they could convince Steve to sit on the floor, so Tommy could scratch at his head more effectively.

"Which..." Steve pauses, frowning. "In retrospect was probably some weird power play thing. Like, I was the king at school but a dog at home."

"Yikes."

"Yeah."

But they knew exactly what he liked and they were good at it.

Tommy knew that he loves the back of his ears scratched, likes the small strands at his neck tugged. He knew that Steve loved the feeling of fingers brushing his fringe back, especially when he'd get rough and push his head back a little with the motion.

They knew what he needed.

"Well... I could do that," Eddie suggests. "I mean... if you want. It's not like it would be a hardship."

"Really? You wouldn't be uncomfortable?"

"Not at all. As long as you're ok with it, it's all good."

"That- yeah. Yeah, I'm on with that."

That's how it starts.

Steve had sat on the floor, in front of the sofa where Eddie was sat. It reminded him of Tommy for a moment, but Eddie quickly brought him back to the moment with a hand on his shoulder.

"This alright for you?" He asked, squeezing gently when Steve nodded. "Alright. Just let me know if it's bad, too much or you want to stop."

"Okay."

He had thought that would be it, though. Moments when they hung out in private, a thing for them that no one else was allowed in on.

But Eddie starts playing with his hair. All the time.

If he can find an excuse, he abuses it. Even in Family Video, busy with people and customers lining up in front of Robin, right next to them. Eddie just... leans forward, reaches out and pushes his hair back.

He does it so casual, so out in the open, that- somehow- Robin is the only one who gives them a strange look.

On movie nights, he's started putting a pillow down on the floor between his feet. When Steve comes in with popcorn, Eddie gives it a pointed look and raises an eyebrow at him.

It's so much, so often. Steve loves it, has never been so happy for so long. It leaves him feeling high sometimes.

All good things, for him, come to an end though. And his comes in the form of Robin Buckley.

"I'm not saying I have a problem with any of it!" She clarifies, right off the bat. "If it's just a friendship thing, that's amazing. I love how happy you are, really, and I don't want that to go away, and I know-"

"Robs," Steve interrupts. "Slow down. I don't know what you're trying to say."

She stood, staring at him for a moment, seeming to vibrate with her need to speak, before finally blurting out-

"Are you and Eddie dating?"

"Wh- what? No, that's... no. Why do you, uhm, think that?"

"Steve," she whines. "I know about your hair lines, remember? One of them must have worked with how addicted he's got to yours."

"Oh, that... no, that's not what's happened. Those aren't lines, I just... I really like people playing with my hair."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Wait, that still sounds suspicious. He plays with your hair all the time because he knows how much you like it?"

"No one else was going to."

"Oh my god," she rolls her eyes, stepping closer so she lightly tug at his hair. "I would have been doing this all the time if I knew it was ok!"

"Oh, uh, sorry?"

"No apologies, just tell me when you started crushing on Munson."

"How-?"

"I know you, dingus. Apparently not as well as I had hoped I did, but I do. And you're gone on him. When. Did it start?"

The first time Steve realized that he was feeling more than 'friendship feelings' for Eddie was when he was eating at his new trailer.

Wayne had come home early and was surprised to see that Eddie had a guest over.

But Eddie was too busy jumping up, excited to introduce them, to notice.

"Wayne! This is Steve, I've told you about Steve, he's great," Eddie said. "Steve, this is my uncle, Wayne. He's amazing, don't worry, he doesn't bite."

Steve had quickly stood extending an arm, and introduced him properly. He made sure to add a quick 'sir' at the end.

Wayne had quickly dismissed the title, turning to Eddie with a fond look, and said, "what was it you called him? Pr-"

"Shut up," Eddie was fast to interrupt, hands waving around.

And Steve realized that he was feeling hope. He was filled with hope that Eddie had said what his uncle seemed to about to say.

He realized that he wanted Eddie to think of him as pretty. He wanted Eddie to find him so pretty that he told his uncle.

It was a warm feeling, fluttering through his stomach- a feeling that he is all too familiar with.

"I'm gagging," Robin says, monotone. "But that does help."

"Help? How?"

"Uh, because he's obviously into you too!"

"Robs, I don't know..."

"Come on, it'll be easy. He already likes you, so you don't have to try so hard. Just a little thing that lets him know you like him. One of your moves-"

"No, Robs... I'm sure that he likes me too, at least a little, that's not the problem."

"What is them?"

"I... I've never, like... been with a guy. What if I do it wrong?"

"Steve," Robin grabs both of his shoulders. "He likes you. All you have to be is yourself."

"I don't know if I c-"

"You can, and you will. We'll think of a plan that cannot fail, you'll put on your brave pants, and we'll kick this problems ass."

"My brave pants? It's brave face."

"No, I mean those pants that you're always saying make your ass look good. Those are your brave pants."

"... Ok, yeah, they are."

It doesn't take them long to settle in a plan. It's simple, easy. It shouldn't give Steve enough time to doubt himself.

Eddie arrives on time, knocking on the door at the exact time it turns four p.m.

"Hi!" Steve greets, wincing at how overenthusiastic he is. "Come in."

"You alright?"

"Yeah, fine, just... slow day. Too much energy. Come on, I made too much food earlier if you want some."

"You know I'll never turn down free food, Stevie."

Over dinner, Steve starts to finally relax. Eddie is, as always, easy to talk too.

When they step into the living room, Steve snatches the pillow off Eddie before he can put it on the floor and places it in Eddies lap instead.

"Oh, uh," Eddie stutters, eyebrows high, staring down at Steve who did not hesitate to rest his head on the pillow in his lap. "You- yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve agrees. "You alright with this?"

"Yes- yeah, this- of course."

"Great!"

Steve stretches to the coffee table, handing Eddie the remote.

He doesn't pay attention to whatever Eddie puts on though. He can't stop thinking about how he's laying, how Eddie's hand feels so much more gentle in his hair.

Eventually, he turns so he's on his back. He catches Eddie's hand before he can pull away, waiting until Eddie looks him in the eye before pulling his hand close enough to kiss his palm.

But, instead of surprise, Eddie sighs. His shoulders drop, smiling wide- relieved.

"You're so pretty," Steve says, pushing through the confusion he feels at Eddies reaction. "And I, uh... I really like you, Ed."

"Yeah?" Eddies eyes scrunch with how wide his smile is, shifting his hand out of Steves hold so he can brush the back of his knuckles along his cheek. "Little ol' me?"

"Yeah. I'm- I mean, you're funny and you care... you're just... it's too soon to say love, I know, but-"

"I love you too."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Text

Seams

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part II: Threads }

Rating: M

Summary: Joel has a problem. Having settled into some semblance of a 'normal' life in Jackson that no longer involves running for his life and living off scraps, his clothes are getting a little… tight. Self-conscious, he deals with it the way he does most things - he ignores it.

That is until one day, the zipper on his jeans finally gives up after one too many desperate tugs, leaving him stuck. With neither Tommy nor Ellie anywhere to be found to get him out of the tight spot, Joel begrudgingly heads to the clothing store he’s seen in town for help - and a new pair of jeans.

There, he meets you.

Warnings: Spicy thoughts, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, body insecurity, some language, Joel being unkind to himself, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 6k

Notes: I haven't written anything this fast for a hot minute. It's both exciting and terrifying, especially as Joel is so new to the fandom. So this is a one-shot as it stands, but I'll be lying if I say I haven't thought about where this story can go. Please be gentle with me, Joel is easily the most intimidating Pedro boy I've written for so far. I hope this doesn't disappoint 🥺

‘TommmMMMMMYYYY!’

His voice echoes in the empty street, gruff with irritation. He can feel eyes on him - he always does, wherever he goes in this damn place - covert stares from behind curtains, peeking out of windows from the neighbouring houses.

The polished wood thumps hollowly under his fist. Head bowed in surrender, his forehead makes contact with the surface of the door with a dull thud.

‘Fuck,’ he mutters under his breath.

Trudging back to the house that’s been allocated to him - he still struggles to think of it as his - he slams the door shut behind him so hard that the sound rings in his ears. Well, more in his left than his right.

Tossing the keys onto a chest of drawers in the hallway, he yells in a last-ditch attempt, ‘Ellieeee!’

The house is silent.

The one time he needs either of them, neither can be found anywhere. Even Maria has made herself scarce - not that he’d ask her for help for this.

This being these stupid fucking jeans.

His trusty jeans that he’s worn for years, other than on laundry days, which were few and far in between. They’ve literally seen him through thick and thin - the knees are so worn he can almost see the web of white thread beneath the denim.

Tess had gotten him these jeans. Stole them, if he remembers correctly. Once upon a time, he needed a belt to hold them up, or they’d hang down to his ass crack. By the time Ellie came into the picture, they fit well enough to render the belt redundant. He could still easily fit things into his pockets though, like a map or a switchblade.

But now -

Now he’s stuck, and he can’t get them off.

If he’s being honest with himself, the jeans haven’t fit for months. The jobs in Jackson don’t come anywhere close to the backbreaking work in the QZ or being on the road with Ellie. The food is plentiful even during the harsh winter, and as much as he looks down his ideological nose at it, Maria deserves credit for the thriving commune.

He had a late start this morning. Ellie had already vacated the house by the time he came to. He was on autopilot, distracted by his thoughts about the porch steps that have rotted and need to be replaced.

He was making plans in his head to nip down to the workshop to get the wooden planks when he started getting dressed. Stepping into the legs of the jeans, he pulled them up, hopping to stretch them over his thighs. Out of habit, he sucked in his belly to button them up, the waistband seemingly even tighter than usual.

He relegated that to the back of his mind, the same way he’s ignored the fact that the jeans have been uncomfortably tight for months - to the point of hindering his movement when he lays bricks, or cuts off his breathing when he sits down. But he’s gotten used to it, like he does everything else. He’s Joel Miller with the stiff upper lip, after all.

The zipper was next. As usual, he met resistance about halfway up. Baring his teeth, he gripped the tongue of the zipper and yanked upwards.

Except this time, it didn’t budge. Grumbling, he pulled harder, feeling the burn in his biceps -

It happened so quickly that he wasn’t even aware until he was wheeling backwards from the force, his arm flying up in an arc - and a metallic clink behind him registered faintly in his good ear.

Disoriented, he glanced down at the zipper. The slider had come clean off.

‘Fuck,’ he swore and turned to the full-length mirror on the wall to inspect the damage. Running an experimental finger along the seam, it was clear that the zipper had somehow snagged on the denim. It was stuck. Dead stuck.

Turning the house inside out, he couldn’t find a single pair of scissors, and there isn’t enough space to fit a knife in without slicing himself open, at which point he left on his ultimately fruitless search for reinforcement.

Joel scrubs a tired hand down his face. He’s never been a vain guy - Tommy is that sibling. But he’s never needed to stress about his looks either, with contracting keeping him in shape before the outbreak, and the fight for survival after - until now.

Grabbing his jacket, he shrugs it on, hyper-conscious of whether it’s a tighter squeeze than usual (fortunately not) - and heads into town.

Main Street Outfitters, the only clothing store in Jackson, sits in the middle of the high street, sandwiched between the pub on one side and the welder’s on the other. For the most part, residents come in to trade in old clothes for new ones, but there’s also a nicer selection for the occasional party that one can barter for.

You’re in the workshop at the back, the afternoon sun filling the room through the skylight.

With your skill in thread and needle, you were the obvious candidate for the job when you arrived in Jackson. Over the years, it has become your sanctuary. The walls are lined with wooden shelves, where neat - though mismatched - boxes of buttons, trimmings, thread and trinkets slot perfectly into place.

You spend the days checking over incoming clothes after they come back from the laundry, making sure they are in reasonable condition and mending those that are not. The shop also charges for adjustments and repairs, and the tasks easily fill your working hours.

It’s a Tuesday, and it’s usually quiet this time of the afternoon. If you’re lucky, you can be undisturbed until you clock off at five - which is why you’re surprised when you hear the tinkle of the doorbell.

The footfall is heavy, it sounds like a strong work boot. You hold your breath and your fingers hover mid-air as the door shuts with a slam. You hear the customer clear his throat - definitely a man - as you wait in vain for the front of house to greet him.

But of course Lucy has sneaked out again. She’s a sweet girl, but manning the counter has always been too dull for her.

‘Hello?’

The voice is deep and gravelly, and despite your reluctance, it doesn’t sit well with your work ethic to keep a customer waiting. Sticking the needle into a pin cushion, you noiselessly rise from your seat and make your way to the front of the shop.

Your first glimpse of him is his back. Standing in front of a rack of jeans, the grays in his hair catch the light streaming through the shop front windows. You study him for a minute, curious eyes running over the width of broad shoulders under a beat-up, khaki jacket. Lower, his jeans are… well-worn, to put it kindly. And from sight, a sitting a bit tight on his hips -

You must have shifted your feet without you noticing. At the minutest creak of wood, the man whips around, one hand reaching behind him in search of the butt of a loaded gun or the hilt of a knife. It’s your good fortune that you see neither on him. The intensity of his gaze is just as effective as a blade on your neck to pin you to your spot.

There’s no question that he’s a newcomer. You’ve seen the same kind of intensity in everyone who’s braved what’s out there to get here.

But even if that didn’t give him away, you already know who he is. He’s Tommy’s brother. Joel, if you remember correctly. Maria approached you for some clothes a few months back when he arrived with his kid for the second time. They’ve been the talk of town since - not that you listen. In fact, you try not to, but you can’t help it if someone talks loudly enough at the next table in the canteen to interrupt your lunchtime reading.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles as the tension in his body recedes. ‘You’re very quiet.’

You duck your head. ‘Sorry.’

‘You work here?’

Wringing your fingers nervously, you nod and take two timid steps towards him, hoping he doesn’t hear the tremour in your voice. ‘How can I help?’

You’ve heard things about Joel Miller. The words most frequently whispered as he ambles by in town include ruthless, cold-blooded and steer clear.

You can’t exactly reconcile the man in front of you with those particular words right now.

There’s nothing that speaks to ruthlessness in the way he averts his eyes and shuffles his feet, the blunt tip of his shoes catching the wooden floor. You also find it hard to believe that a truly cold-blooded person would willingly cross the country and all its horrors in search of his brother, or take a teenager under his wing.

You might not think much of yourself, but you know that your judgement of character has kept you alive so far. And your instinct isn’t telling you to steer clear of this man - quite the opposite, in fact.

But that’s neither here nor there.

He rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable with your scrutiny. ‘Just lookin’ for some new jeans.’

‘Alright,’ you reply, taking the remaining five steps to the other end of the jeans rack, a safe distance away from him. ‘What’s your size?’

To your surprise, he huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘At least one up from whatever I have on right now.’

Sucking in a breath, you gesture vaguely at him. ‘Um, do you mind if I take a look at uh - you? So I can guess what size will fit you?’

You’re used to being the most awkward person in the room wherever you go, but this man is giving you a pretty good run for your money right now. While you divert your gaze as he unbuttons the front of his jacket, he fixes his somewhere over your shoulder to the right, grinding his teeth, as if he wishes he was anywhere but here.

Dragging your eyes back to him, you take stock of your customer as he sweeps the lapels of the jacket to the side. Underneath, the green flannel cuts off at the top of the jeans, and you see the soft pouch of his abdomen beneath the fabric. While the shirt is well-fitted, the jeans are obviously too small. The waistband bites into his sides, you can see the subtle overhang of his love handles. Even by the way he’s standing you can tell he’s uncomfortable, packed in way too tight in the denim.

And then… you really shouldn’t, but you stare at the front of the jeans. Now, you know for a fact that the fit will be just as snug there even if he goes a size up…

‘Sorry, not much to look at,’ he grunts, breaking the silence.

Taken aback by the self-derision in his voice, the words leave your mouth before they register, sharper than you mean them to be. ‘Don’t say that.’

He blinks at you. ‘What?’

You gape at him. Does he really not see? His tall, solid frame? The strong columns of his thighs? Is this man blind on top of being frustratingly attractive -?

But of course you can never say that. Instead, you pull out three different pairs of jeans in quick succession and all but throw them at him, heat prickling the tips of your ears as the disbelief that you spoke to a customer like that sinks in.

‘The dressing room is there,’ you squeak, pointing at the far corner. ‘I’ll be at the back if you need any help -’

You turn on your heels, in a hurry to get back to your workshop, but you only get halfway through the spin. It takes you three seconds to realise why - his calloused palm is on your wrist, holding you in place.

‘Actually, I do need help - I broke the zipper, and I’m stuck in these damn jeans.’

You ignore the clench of your stomach at the way he spits out the word damn. You’re not big on swearing, but the cuss word sounds good rolling off his tongue in his Southern twang.

To your horror, a giggle bubbles up your throat before you can slap a palm over your mouth.

‘I’m so, so sorry,’ you apologise profusely, heat flooding your cheeks.

You stare in consternation when those broad shoulders of his quake, a half-smile on his lips as they part in a scratchy chuckle. ‘Trust me, I’m glad I found you first. My brother or my kid would have given me a much harder time. Probably would’ve pissed their pants laughin’.’

Despite yourself, you smile back with a weak attempt at a joke. ‘I mean, I’ll try not to -’

He smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘That’s all I can ask for.’

You lead the way to the back of the shop and Joel follows three polite steps behind, pausing by the doorway. Running practised eyes over the space, the contractor in him appreciates the well-built skylight and the sturdy furniture in the room, pieces that were clearly built to last. He places the jeans you picked out for him on the big work table, made of strong timber and aged with time.

He picked up a change in your demeanour the moment you crossed the threshold into the workshop. There’s a quiet confidence in your measured steps, the way you move speaking volumes - this is clearly your place, and you’re so much more comfortable in your skin here.

You point at the spot marked by a round, cosy rug directly beneath the skylight. ‘Could you stand there for me?’

Doing as he’s told, he startles when you march straight up to him, sliding your palms under the shoulders of his jacket to push it off. Your front brushes his chest briefly when you reach around to catch it, but not brief enough for him to ignore the soft swell of your breasts pressed up against him.

Joel is all too aware of his pulse going from zero to a hundred at the fleeting touch, the collar of his shirt suddenly a bit too tight. For fuck’s sake, Miller. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since his head has gone anywhere near there, but of course it has to happen at the most inconvenient moment.

At least you don’t seem to notice, draping his jacket over the back of a chair before retrieving a pair of tailor’s scissors from one meticulously organised drawer.

Just when he thinks he’s gotten a handle on himself, you hit him with a non-sequitur. ‘Are you wearing underwear?’

Only when Joel splutters wordlessly does the full weight of the question seem to hit you. You stutter, ‘Oh god, I didn’t - I mean - I only asked because if push comes to shove, and I have to cut through the jeans, I don’t want to ruin any underwear you’re wearing -’

You trail off, and it’s his turn to stammer, scratching an invisible itch on his elbow as he struggles to remember what he usually does with his hands.

‘No, no, I get it. I’m ahem -,’ he pauses with a cough. ‘I’m not actually wearin’ any underwear right now. Not out of habit, it’s just that I’ve been barely squeezin’ into the stupid jeans even without it.’

His honest answer seems to put you at ease, and you purse your lips. ‘Sounds uncomfortable.’

He shrugs. ‘Have been for months.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He arches an eyebrow. ‘What for?’

‘That you’ve been uncomfortable. That’s one thing clothes shouldn’t be.’

Not quite knowing how to answer you, he watches you grab a velvet cushioned footstool from under the work table and place it squarely at his feet. Then, without further preamble, you sink onto your knees in front of him, knocking the air clean out of his lungs.

As he stares down at the crown of your head, your nose at the level of his waistband, he muses that he hasn’t seen this view for a long time, a very long time. His fingers twitch at his sides, and he closes his eyes, fighting the base instinct to cup the back of your head in his palm and to pull you close -

He breathes out hard through his nostrils and clenches his jaw, casting his gaze heavenwards through the skylight as he actually prays for the first time in years.

Don’t you fucking dare get hard, Miller.

You chew on the inside of your mouth as you consider what’s before you. It’s tricky. The jeans are unbuttoned and zipped up most of the way, but the denim has been caught tight in the metallic teeth, and the handle of the zipper yanked clean off.

Cocking your head to one side, you think out loud. ‘I think we should at least try and unsnag the zipper before cutting. But we’re going to need some lubrication, and we’ll need to give it a really good, firm tug -’

The man chokes on nothing above you, and you frown up at him in a question.

Clearing his throat loudly, he asks through gritted teeth, ‘Do we have to?’

‘I mean, I can just cut open the jeans, but then you’ll definitely have to trade in something extra to cover the costs of the repairs -’

He interrupts, ‘That. Let’s do that.’

‘Alright, your call,’ you say with a nod. ‘Can you hold up your shirt?’

You try not to gawk when he draws up the tails of his flannel, revealing his soft stomach underneath. The mid-rise jeans cut off beneath his belly button, and you eye the trail that sneaks full and dark under the waistband. He’s obviously sucking his tummy in, and you catch yourself wishing he doesn’t feel like he has to.

You bite your bottom lip. ‘Do you think you can fit a couple of fingers into the waistband so I can slide the scissors in? They’re sharp, I don’t want to cut you.’

You watch as he tries, first his index finger, then his middle, but he can barely squeeze in beyond the nail, which turns completely colourless from the pressure. He sighs in surrender. ‘Mfraid you’ll have to, sweetheart.’

You have to close your eyes for a moment, your head swimming. You’re not sure whether it’s from the sweetheart, or the fact that he wants you to stick your hand down the front of his pants.

Well, not exactly that he wants you to. And not your hand. But still.

You squeak. ‘Do I have to?’

He pins you a sarcastic arch of his eyebrows. ‘Well, if you’re sure that you won’t cut my dick off -’

Your face heats up at his blunt words, falling back onto your haunches. ‘Great, now you’ve got me worried -’

Palms up in apology, he shrugs. ‘Sorry -’

‘No, no, you’re right. I don’t want to accidentally castrate you,’ you sigh. ‘Are you - um - well adjusted in there?’

‘I’d go down the right side of the zipper,’ he answers diplomatically.

Taking a deep breath, you ask, ‘Ready?’

‘Whenever you are, sweetheart.’

The first contact is the brush of your knuckles against his stomach, the skin warm and soft on the back of your fingers. You don’t dare look up, but you can feel his eyes on you as you burrow your index finger under the waistband. Though it’s a squeeze, you manage to wriggle in nail side down, creating a small gap - still not quite enough to get the scissors in without nicking him.

Talking more to yourself, you mumble, ‘Better safe than sorry. Let me just get one more finger in -’

Joel chokes so hard that you almost jump back in fright, frowning at him as he catches his breath. ‘Are you okay? Do you need some water?’

His voice tight, he shakes his head. ‘No, I’m fine.’

You wait a beat to make sure he doesn’t go into another coughing fit. When the coast is clear, you gesture at his jeans. ‘Can I just -’

‘Get one more finger in?’ he finishes your sentence in his raspy baritone.

You finally hear it when he says it like that. And oh god, your ears burn as you stare up at him, lips parted, torn between outrage and a very disorienting arousal. ‘You - you -’

A wicked smirk tugs unexpectedly at the corner of his mouth. ‘I already tried, sweetheart. My fingers are too big to fit inside.’

The touch of playful condescension in his tone has your jaw going slack, and your brain practically short-circuits at the thoughts of where else they are too big to fit inside of -

So as it turns out, you’re brave, or just downright stupid, when you’re turned on. Next thing you know, you hear yourself telling him off. ‘I could just leave you in those jeans you know.’

Joel smiles wider, and retorts, ‘I don’t think you would.’

‘Just because I’m shy doesn’t mean I don’t have a mean streak,’ you shoot back.

He seems pleased to have lured you out of your shell, grinning down at you. ‘Believe me, I’m shakin’ in my boots, sweetheart.’

It’s really unfair that he looks this good from where you are on your knees. His eyes are hooded, curls flecked with grays sweeping his forehead. Even though the apocalypse has left its marks on him in wrinkles, frown lines, and smudged bags under his eyes, it has clearly not taken away from that proud nose or plush lips -

Steadying yourself with a deep inhale, you shake yourself out of it. With an in, it’s slightly easier to push in your middle finger into the waistband to widen the gap. Happy with the quarter inch of space, you hold up the scissors. ‘I’m ready to cut if you are.’

He nods his acquiesce. ‘Do your worst.’

Opening up the scissors and carefully fitting the blade beneath the denim, you carefully begin snipping away. They are sharp, but the fabric is tough and you’re conscious of the very tight fit, so you take it slow.

You pause when you’re a couple of inches in, when Joel lets out a groan of relief. Absent-mindedly, you run a soothing thumb over the angry, red indents the waistband dug into the soft pouch of his tummy, sending a shudder through him.

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, snatching back your hand as if he burns you.

Too preoccupied with the relief of being able to breathe, Joel shakes his head. ‘Don’t be. Just keep going. Please.’

Why is that one word - six letters - making your breath hitch?

Gripping the top of the now open fly and pinning it against his body so you don’t accidentally see anything you’re not meant to see - whether you want to deliberately is a completely different matter - you hunker down and keep cutting along the zipper.

Each snip gets easier as the jeans release their death grip on him. The right side of the fly falls away as you cut, the denim peeling back slowly to expose the skin underneath. Your eyes drift to the curve of the pubic bone that’s now completely in view, and it’s taking everything you have to not lean over and run the broad of your tongue along it -

How long has it been since you’ve been with a man? When was the last time you had someone stand before you, pants unzipped and hanging open -

With tremendous fortitude, you tear your eyes away to check on him, ‘All good?’

The grunt of respite that he lets out is almost guttural, going straight between your legs. ‘Feels so fuckin’ good to breathe.’

‘Before I keep going, do you want to - uh - rearrange yourself?’

You expect him to turn around, or at least give you a second to turn around to give him some privacy, but he’s obviously been too deprived of oxygen to think straight. One big palm snakes down his front, right in your face, and he cups himself through the denim.

You stop breathing, eyes wide as he adjusts himself.

Holy fuck.

When he’s done, he gives you a thumbs up. ‘All good.’

This is it. You’re not making it out of this alive.

You can barely get the words out, your throat suddenly drier than sandpaper. ‘Can you, um, hold up the other side of the fly?’

When he does, you stare at his hand next to yours. How is it so big? The veins are prominent on the back, leading down to thick fingers, the nails neatly trimmed and clean - but you bet there’s residue gunpowder underneath.

There’s still a slither of skin peeking through the V of the fly as the scissors slice through the denim, following his happy trail. The lower you go, the thicker and darker the curls, and goddamnit - what is wrong with you - all you can think about is burying your nose right in there, nudging through the hair, lower and lower and lower still -

A sharp pain on your left finger makes you yelp, the scissors falling from your other hand to the floor with a loud clang. A small bead of blood wells up on the tip where the sharp blade nicked it, and in a panic, you let go of his jeans.

‘Shit,’ Joel curses and covers himself up quickly, his brow furrowed in concern. ‘You okay?’

You nod in embarrassment while you get on your feet. ‘I - my hand just slipped. It’s nothing, the smallest cut, I’m fine -’

Well, to be fair, you were fine - until he grabs your left wrist, brings your hand up to his face and sucks your bleeding fingertip into his mouth.

As if it’s the logical thing to do.

Your knees buckle, and you collapse into his front, but he doesn’t even budge, as if you weigh nothing. Taking a deep breath - wood smoke, simple soap and man fill your lungs. Peering up at him through your lashes, you spot the silver flanking the hinge of his jaw, leading down to a peculiar bare patch on the left side of his beard.

He watches you back as he releases your finger with a wet pop. Tracing his bottom lip with his tongue, he pronounces, ‘Just a small cut. You’ll live.’

Will you though? Because it feels like you’re on the verge of expiring from breathlessness.

He glances down at his front, which he’s still holding up. ‘I guess I can get out of these now.’

It takes you three seconds to catch up before you stumble backwards. ‘Yes, of course. Sorry.’

‘Thank you for freeing me,’ he says with a lopsided smile.

You duck your head, unable to meet his gaze all of a sudden - hypocrite, you had no problem perving on him a minute ago - and nod at the jeans on the table. ‘Why don’t you try those on?’

He clears his throat. ‘I, uh, should probably put on some underwear first.’

You barely manage to hold back from smacking yourself on the forehead. ‘Of course. We do have some in stock. Boxers or briefs?’

He looks amused. ‘What do you think, sweetheart?’

You hesitate, but you force yourself to be brave and venture a guess. ‘Boxers.’

He winks, and you grin back.

Joel hovers uncertainly in front of the mirror in the fitting room, having exhausted all the angles he can see twice, and wonders if he’s been dithering for too long. He’s not even sure what he’s looking at anymore, so he bites the bullet and draws back the curtain.

‘How do they feel?’ you ask.

He was counting on some hint from you, but you give nothing away. So he shrugs, hands on hips. ‘I honestly can’t tell you.’

‘May I?’

At his nod, you step into his space, and he watches as you hook your fingers into the belt loops on either side of the jeans and pull them up, as if gauging the size. He holds his breath as your hair grazes the front of his chest.

‘They’re a bit loose, to be honest,’ you tell him.

He scoffs self-decrepatingly. ‘Probably not for long at the rate I’m going.’

You take a step back and level him with a glare. ‘Stop it.’

He frowns, hackles rising. ‘What?’

‘Stop putting yourself down.’

That he didn’t expect. He protests, ‘I’m not putting myself down -’

‘Yes, yes, you are,’ you interrupt him with a boldness that has his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. With fire in your eyes, you go toe to toe with him, poking him in the chest with a firm finger. ‘You’re alive, you’re safe here, and you’re fit as hell. If you’re going to make fun of yourself for putting on a bit of healthy weight, you can go ahead and get out of my shop.’

Warmth blooms in his chest as Joel stares down at you, breathing heavily after your little speech but showing no intention of backing down. You don’t know him, but for some reason, you’re fighting his corner.

That shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

Pursing his lips, he towers over you as he teases, ‘You think I’m fit as hell, sweetheart?’

With a roll of your eyes, you walk backwards to the shelves, rummaging through the sizes before returning with a pair of dark wash jeans. You quip, ‘Don’t fish for compliments, it’s unbecoming.’

You snap the curtain shut in his face with a flick of your wrist before he can answer, and he chuckles to himself as pulls on the jeans you picked out for him.

When he pushes open the curtain again, Joel doesn’t miss the way you pause as you stare.

The waistband sits on his hips without cutting into his stomach, and he’s pleased that he can comfortably slide his hands into the pockets. The denim wraps firmly, but not tightly, against his backside, holding his thighs comfortably and falling straight down to the ankles. The wash is dark and flattering, smarter than his old ones.

When the silence has stretched on long enough, Joel shifts on his feet and asks, ‘Well?’

You turn the question back at him. ‘What do you think?’

He shrugs. ‘They’re alright, I guess.’

With a tilt of your head, you prompt, ‘You can say it, you know.’

‘Say what?’

‘You can say that you look good.’

Joel huffs, shaking his head and catching his reflection in the mirror as he does. At your look of insistence, he reluctantly parrots back, ‘Alright. I look good. Happy, sweetheart?’

Then you smile, really smile, and he feels himself soften - his eyes, his face, his mouth, his fucking old, rickety knees -

Suddenly, the bell over the door rings and a woman bustles in. ‘I’m so sorry, Pin! I know I’ve been gone a long time, but I got your favourite tea to make it up to you -’

She stops abruptly when she spots him. ‘Hey! You’re Joel Miller, aren’t you?’

Before he can answer, she crosses the shop in a bundle of energy, sticking her hand out. ‘I’m Lucy, I’m a friend of Tommy and Maria’s. It’s so nice to finally meet you.’

He lets her shake his hand, then she continues without skipping a beat. ‘How are you settling in? You got that house in the street near the stables right? It’s great, it’s quiet but not too far from everything -’

Since she doesn’t seem interested in his participation in this conversation, he doesn’t. But he notices, with regret, the way you start to retreat, the shyness making a return in the shadow of her clearly more outgoing friend - like a bad habit.

He’s suddenly aware of a lull, and that Lucy is looking at him expectantly, like she’s just asked a question that he didn’t hear.

‘Yeah sure,’ he replies dismissively, stopping you with a hand on your wrist just as you try to slink away unnoticed. ‘Hey, wait a second -’

To Lucy’s credit, she picks up on the snub and the energy between the two of you at the same time. Instead of taking offence, she gives you a knowing look and points towards the back diplomatically. ‘You know what Pin, I just bumped into Maria and she asked me something about our fabric inventory, so I better go check it out. I’ll see you around, Joel.’

With a wink in your direction, Lucy makes herself scarce, leaving the tea on the counter for you.

Joel’s quiet for a beat when you’re left alone again. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to run off your friend, but I just wanted to uh - thank you. For all this.’ He pauses, then adds, ‘Like she said, I’m Joel. Probably should’ve introduced myself before I asked you to cut me out of my jeans.’

You quip, ‘There’s always next time.’

He chuckles, and asks, ‘Did your friend just call you - Pin?’

‘It’s just a silly nickname,’ you explain. ‘As in pins and needles, for obvious reasons.’

Then you give him your real name and your hand, his palm warm and calloused against yours as he shakes it firmly. When he lets you go, you notice the watch on his wrist, the veins of broken glass on the face catching the light.

Nodding at it, you ask, ‘Do you need that fixed? There’s a repair guy down the road who can fix anything.’

Confused for a moment about what you’re referring to, Joel pauses before realisation dawns on him. His answer is suddenly polite, a stark contrast to the light-hearted conversation just now. ‘No, I - I like it this way. But thanks.’

You don’t miss the emotional weight behind his words, and the air thickens with unspoken meaning, but you know better than to ask.

‘I understand,’ you say simply.

Everyone has something like the watch is to him. God knows you do. A moment of quiet understanding passes between you, one that needs no words.

Breaking the silence, he says, ‘So, you mentioned I’ll need to trade in something else for these jeans -’

You dismiss that notion with a wave of your hand. ‘Oh no, it’s ok. I got it.’

‘You don’t have to -’

You shut him down. ‘It’s not a big deal, it will take me two minutes to replace the zipper.’

He hesitates. ‘And the boxers -’

Passing him his jacket, you insist, ‘Seriously, Joel, don’t worry about it.’

His fingers brush yours when he takes it from you and shrugs it on. You try not to look too conspicuously when the bottom of his shirt draws up, flashing a bit of tummy, but it’s gone too quickly. With a nod, he concedes reluctantly, ‘You really shouldn’t, but thank you. I owe you one.’

You roll your eyes with no real exasperation as you walk him towards the exit. ‘I know you haven’t been here for long - that’s just how things work around these parts. We do things for each other, you don’t owe me anything.’ Pulling the door open, you give him one last grin. ‘Welcome to Jackson, Joel.’

‘Thanks, Pin,’ he says as he crosses the threshold. He pauses on the porch and looks around the high street slowly, as if he’s taking it in for the first time. He then turns to you with a parting wink that is charged with easy confidence. ‘I think I’ll like it here.’

You linger by the door, leaning against the frame as he jogs down the front steps with a swagger, watching in appreciation at the way his new jeans frame his backside. You smile when he slides his hands into his pockets as he walks away, the afternoon breeze ruffling his curls and the sun warming his broad shoulders.

You think you’ll like him here as well.

Notes: As I was writing this, I couldn't help thinking that it reminded me of Grays 🙈 What can I say? I want to give middle-aged men in need of self-love all the reassurance that they need. I hope you enjoyed Pin and Joel's meet-cute, I'm honestly so nervous about this fic I had to stop myself from compulsively over-editing.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated as always 🥰

P.S. Apparently, there is a Main Street Outfitter in the game, so I ran with it.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

#tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller oneshot

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steviewashere · 4 months

Text

Kiss and Tell

(Can be found on ao3)

Steddie WC: 2,279 Tags: Post Season 4, Steve Harrington Has Auditory Processing Disorder, Eddie Munson Loves to Talk, Minor Angst, Mostly Fluff, Queer Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has a Bisexual Awakening, But He Already Knows (Sort of), First Kiss, Lots of Kissing

Based on this post that I made. Happy reading! <3

-------- Steve has a staring problem. He knows this. He's been told this. And it's not something he can help or fix or find an alternative for. This is just what he knows.

It's something he's tried to maintain since he was a little boy. And, on that same note, is something he picked up while being a boy in a room with two adults who were fast talkers and big negotiators and all-in on the nature of their careers. But his parents certainly hate that he has a staring problem. Which, that's not unusual, most people hate that he does. Because he doesn't look them in the eyes for more than thirty seconds at a time. And even if he does, he doesn't hear a single thing they said, politely asking they start over, and feeling hurt when they just scoff as loud as possible and walk away from the conversation all together.

The audio just doesn't process. Never has. Probably never will.

He listens to music, but doesn't understand any meaning. He talks over the phone, but must have all other sound blocked out and the curtains shut and his eyes closed to imagine what the words look like leaving the other person's mouth. He argues, but loses track of the original point of the argument—when he laughs instead of apologizes.

And it would be fine—if—he wasn't close to losing his life every year. Where he has to listen to everybody and the important tiny details and the plans and the reasons for what they're doing. Which leads him to danger. Which gives him a bruised face. Which makes the listening even harder, once the concussion leaves and he's just got the leftover damage of his quirkiness.

It would be fine—if—he wasn't made to feel so stupid for what he must do. The jabs and the constant reminders and the...yeah, his sob story.

But there was Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, who he could keep up with. Because they'd talk about the same things over and over, until he could practically relay all the information, pulled straight from the deep crevices of his brain, and it ends up that they had forgotten, rather than him.

And there was Nancy Wheeler, who was polite enough to repeat things. Who had flash cards and a soft, focusing voice. It was easy to write off looking at her lips. "Eyes up here, Steve," she'd say. "Sorry," he'd respond sheepishly, "getting lost." And he'd chuckle and she'd giggle and then they'd kiss a little and he wouldn't be reminded that he's just a little weird. That, maybe, he just isn't normal.

Robin Buckley makes things easy-ish. She talks fast. And a lot. And she never looks him in the eyes, unless she's asking for a very serious favor, or he has something on his face, or she just feels the need (she claims it's that she hasn't looked in a while, but he shrugs her off every time). (If he can get away with staring at her lips, then she can get away with never looking him in the eyes.) He's mentioned, though, that he has a hard time following her sometimes. That he needs the words repeated a few times. Explained the lip thing, with a tense voice and a quake in his chest and his fingers tapping at the sides of his thighs. And, for a brief moment, he had felt like a creep. Like one of those weirdos that preys on the idea of women kissing. And he wanted to open up Family Video's register, shove his head inside, and sort himself out into the container of fives. But she shrugged, said "Okay," and went back on some ramble, to which he was immediately drawn to her mouth. And saw her repeat the name, Vickie, at least twenty times. He grinned and then when the store was empty, he leaned across the counter and teasingly said, "You have a big fat crush on Vickie, don't you?" To say that he was proud of her sputtering is an understatement.

Now, Dustin and the others were harder to get through. Because they moved at their own pace. And they don't really stop to add him to the conversation. He gets it, to an extent. He knows that he's not really all that intrigued in what they enjoy. (Even if he really leans into the conversation when they mention Sherlock Holmes or Dracula or Star Wars or, even, Star Trek. And he pretends to not be interested in their science fair projects. Or the one time he caught them huddled around a Sports Illustrated, in which he fought the urge to chat their ears off about both baseball and basketball statistics.) But there's a point in the conversations where he's made to feel a little dumb; even if he was staring where they were speaking, but they always grow frustrated, a huff of air released, when they notice he's not "paying attention" (translation: looking them in the eyes. "Because, Steve, it's just talking etiquette!" Dustin had shouted once).

He loves all of them anyway. Even if he misses words. And he loses track of what they were saying. He just wishes they were a little bit more forgivable about it at the end of the day.

Then, Eddie Munson is walking along side him in an alternate universe. He's peeled the vest off his back and chucked it at Steve. And they're talking. Jealous of one another, but talking. But, Eddie's voice goes soft and quiet, his eyes pointing towards Nancy's back.

Steve is looking at Nancy, words fading into the background. And it's not a moment of realization. Or a moment of longing. Yearning, what say you. No—it's one of his moments in which he's "listening," but not processing. So he looks back. And for a mere second, Eddie's eyes are big where Steve stares. Big and wet and curious. Big and wet and persuasive. Big and wet and not at all his lips and Steve is still not listening.

But his lips. Well, Steve's seen lips. These are pretty. They're pink. Chapped and bitten and plush appearing. Mesmerizing. Stretching over Eddie's sharp teeth, exposing dimples and smile lines, making his recent stubble more noticeable than it's ever been before. But his lips are pretty.

Like girls lips, Steve muses. Not really taking in what that means. Because Eddie's saying something about true love. And—shit—okay. Steve can get behind an act of true love. He can get behind sharing denim and coating Eddie's clothes in blood and staring down his lips and—god, his eyes, Steve can't help but notice once more.

Eddie's like a vulnerable cow. With pretty lips, he has to point out. Or a baby deer. With such pretty lips. And he's talking and Steve's finally listening. But it's not just processing. No, Steve's intrigued, interested even. He tilts his head like a curious puppy. Leaning in. Eddie's breath ghosts the tip of his nose. And, sure, it's a little rank. But weirdly sweet. Warm where Steve is otherwise cold. Warm in places Steve's never considered to feel warm in, but he's willing to give in, to wrap up in whatever Eddie has to say. If it all means more of him.

So, it makes sense that after all that they go through, Steve finds himself in Eddie's orbit. As a friend. As a trauma bond. As everything Eddie needs him to be.

He sits on the Munson's couch. On the cushion that dips a little too low. The lights orange and dim and casting beautiful streaks of almost candle light on Eddie's soft, beautiful features. Highlighting where his nose is the most bulbous. His pronounced Cupid's bow. The outer edges of his irises, golden and honey against the off-white of his scleras.

Eddie talks like Robin does. Excited. A lot. Fast. But his voice is soft, focused on the information—like Nancy's. It's teasing, like Dustin's. Soft, though. So gentle. Murmured. Which makes sense, if Steve were to stop and think about it for just a moment. With how late it is. With the little amount of weed they smoked. And it all just fits, with how slow and careful Eddie's lips move. As if testing the words. As if searching for what he means.

But, god, Steve is following along. Of course he is. Hanging onto each one of Eddie's words.

"So, the cashier at the record store got all apprehensive about selling me this tape. Which, I guess makes sense because it's a special edition. Comes with a photo card or whatever, but like—Come on, y'know? If he wanted it so bad, he should'a bought it the moment it dropped. Not my fault he slacks on not just his job, but also his opportunities," Eddie rambles. And, that's right, he's complaining about the music store encounter he had today. Trying to buy some album for some band. Steve got lost part of the way through, so he's not sure who exactly Eddie was getting a tape for. The style of music. But he has most of the information. He just—

Has to squint harder.

So, Steve leans in. As casual as he possibly can. And narrows his eyes at Eddie's lips. The word pretty comes to mind again. Because of course it does. And he can't pull his eyes away, no matter how hard he tries. For some reason, the tips of his fingers tingle a little. Wanting to reach out. Trace his lower lip, right where it sticks out, just above the divot of his chin. Would it be soft, he asks himself. Does he wear chapstick? Steve sighs softly. I wish I could...taste it. His eyes widen, just the tiniest bit. But he ignores that in favor of whatever Eddie is saying. If only he could make it out. He leans impossibly closer.

And there it is again. The soft puffs of warm air. On the tip of his nose. His own lips. Tickling his stubble. Eddie's breath smells like weed and strawberry Tab; a little bit of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Maybe the smallest trace of pepper—

"Uh, Steve?" Eddie nervously calls out. But gets no response. Steve is only a couple inches away from his face. Eyes hooded. Glassy. Zeroed in on Eddie's lips. He's not talking. Doesn't even give a hum. Just...keeps staring.

Eddie sucks in a breath. Eyes darting over Steve's face. He doesn't talk again, hoping maybe Steve will stop. But, nope. In fact, the only thing Eddie gets as acknowledgement for the fact he's stopped talking, is that Steve pouts. Upset. As if his lips no longer moving is some great catastrophe to Steve, some tragedy, some misfortune.

And, Eddie, the awful wreck that he is, can only assume that this means one thing.

Steve wants a kiss. And is, maybe, too chicken shit to close the gap.

So, with no other option. And definitely not wanting to get away from the heated, stirring, calm mask of Steve's face—Eddie presses his mouth against Steve's. Hesitantly smushing their lips together. Dragging his lower lip against Steve's soft scowling one.

And he pulls away. Because Steve isn't doing anything in response.

No, in fact, Steve is extremely expressive now.

Wide eyes. Mouth opened into a silent "Oh." His cheeks are flushed. And as quick as it came upon him, whatever realization that was, fades. Like a cartoon character, Steve's face melts into one of pure infatuation. Mouth lilting. His posture slouching. Eyes going soft against the extreme red of his face.

"Do that again," Steve whispers.

Eddie obliges. And he obliges. And he keeps obliging until they're under a cool top sheet, skin slick with sweat and eyes piercing one another's mouths.

That's when, in the silent air of Eddie's tiny bedroom, Steve admits the greatest thing in the world. "I don't really process when people are talking unless I'm looking at their mouth. I have to read their lips. I didn't—I wasn't trying to kiss you at first, but—" And the motherfucker giggles. "If that's all it took..." Then he's kissing Eddie again. Like it's the last thing he'll ever get to do. And Eddie thinks, If I die from running out of breath doing this, then I've done everything in my life correctly.

So, sure, Steve has a huge staring problem. And he doesn't really listen. And it's something he'll never fix, even if there's a way to.

But he finds that his technique—the thing he's crafted since he was a little boy—no longer works. At least, not on Eddie. Because suddenly, looking at his gorgeous pink lips makes Steve only able to think about one thing: Kissing. And he can't follow along unless he fulfills that want.

Eddie could be in the middle of a deep, all inclusive description of his recent trap in the campaign he's crafting. He could be singing. He could be complaining about some movie he rented. But that doesn't matter. Because he stops talking the moment Steve leans in and kisses him. Kisses like he needs it to live.

And though he rolls his eyes. Huffs a breath. Smirks and barrels on. There's that giddiness, that love pooling in Eddie' heart. Just knowing the effect he has on Steve. And the way he's affected, too, when Steve just whispers, "Sorry, I got lost again. Start over?"

He obliges. And he keeps obliging. And his lips are usually swollen by the time he's finally done rambling.

Steve stares. Eddie talks. And it's the combination of a lifetime.

--------

❤️

#stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #first kiss #Steve Harrington has a bisexual awakening #Steve Harrington Has Auditory Processing Disorder

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sweetercalypso · 4 months

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What Takes the Edge Off || Joel Miller

Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: Now that Joel is living in Jackson, he’s picked up a few bad habits. When he comes home smelling like cigarettes, you punish him for his choice of vices

Notes: smoking, lap sitting, hair pulling, semi-public sex, grinding over clothes, edging, dom reader, sub(ish) Joel, no reader pronouns; smoking is gross unless you’re hot <3

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Joel’s problem started with a crushed pack of Camels he’d found just a few short months after settling down in Jackson.

Truthfully, his problem had started when he was nineteen and naïve about the habit he was forming with the hand-rolled cigarettes stashed in his glovebox. They’d belonged to Tommy before Joel had quickly confiscated them with a lengthy lecture about the dangers of smoking.

Tommy was still a kid, but Joel was old enough to choose his own vices.

Everyone in Texas smoked; pipes, cigars, cigarettes – it was all commonplace in the rural heat of the South. Even after the world fell apart, there were plenty of people in QZs willing to trade a week’s worth of ration cards for a single carton of cigarettes, a stale taste of the life they’d left behind.

Joel had been more than happy to meet their demand, only occasionally skimming a few from his and Tess’s supplies. He didn’t crave the relief of nicotine any more than he craved a bottle of old whiskey or a quick, drunken fuck – it was just a way to cope with the life he’d been given.

Living in Jackson is different. The air is cleaner, the streets aren’t littered with soggy cigarette butts, and the weight of Joel’s bad habits has finally caught up to him.

The first pack he found, he’d shared with Tommy. The pair stood outside a crumbling house on their patrol route and chain-smoked what was left in the half-crushed box, reminiscing about the time Tommy stole an imported cigar from their father’s nightstand and had gotten sick from the first puff. Twenty years since they’d seen home, their Southern upbringing still kept them from smoking indoors.

The smell of tobacco had worn off by the time they returned to the city gates, and you were none the wiser about their indulgence. Even when you threw your arms around Joel and buried your face in his chest, you’d greeted him like nothing was out of the ordinary.

A couple days after he’d finished the first pack, Joel realized how much he enjoyed smoking. He found himself missing the bitter taste in his mouth, fingers twitching at his sides like he’s flicking loose ashes from a phantom burning tip.

There’d been a gun in his hand for as long as he could remember, and now that his days are spent in protected leisure, Joel feels like a crucial piece of himself is missing.

He’s constantly searching for the sleek steel of a pistol, the pressure of a trigger responding to his unabating command. The weight of a cigarette balanced between his fingers had eased the grief of being still.

A sealed pack of Marlboro’s was Joel’s next find, left behind on a coffee table in a house just beyond his normal patrol route. His habit had never been routine enough to pick a favorite brand, but the familiar red and white emblem is a welcomed sight, a promise of earthy tobacco and a good, slow burn.

The matchbook in his pocket is a heavy burden on Joel’s conscience as he picks up the cigarettes and quietly slips them into his supply bag. This time, he isn’t sharing with Tommy or anyone else who feels they have a claim over a portion of his findings.

Jackson might be a commune, but just this once, Joel’s nicotine-fueled prerogative trumps his commitment to sacrifice.

He waits until he’s past the city gates to unwrap the crisp plastic and slide the first cigarette out of the pack. It’s nearly midnight when he returns his horse to the stable and begins the short walk home, unlit cigarette dangling between his teeth as he attempts to light a match under the warm embrace of the streetlamps.

The initial thrum of nicotine flooding his lungs is bittersweet, a slight burn that dulls his senses with each deep breath. He walks with his cigarette pulled up to his mouth, the weak orange glow of lit tobacco burning a crude effigy into the shadows of his face.

You’re sitting on the porch when he rounds the corner, lazed in a rocking chair that Joel had built the previous summer – his attempt at adjusting to the slow life.

When he realizes that you’re still awake, he flicks the half-finished cigarette onto the ground and crushes it with the toe of his boot, waving a hand to clear the lazy smoke lingering in the air. He grumbles under his breath and pulls the front of his jacket to his nose to gauge how long it would take the smell of tobacco to fade, but he realizes too late that the sickly-sweet aroma is already woven into the material – still clinging to his breath.

He makes his way up the sidewalk with a guilty look on his face and a hand tucked in his pocket, thumb rubbing soothingly over the side of the cigarette pack as if the feel of the box was enough to bring him relief.

It wasn’t that he expected to be chastised for his nasty habit – you knew better than anyone that Joel preferred to take care of himself. But he distinctly remembers a conversation you’d shared some time ago about old-world vices and your distaste for smoking.

He didn’t think it was worth mentioning his habit at the time; smoking was a luxury he doubted he’d ever have again, so why ruin his image of calloused self-restraint?

The sound of the porch steps creaking under Joel’s boots grabs your attention from whatever book you’d been reading, now abandoned face-down on the arm of the rocking chair as you turn to greet him.

“You’re home,” you drawl, the tired lilt in your voice betraying your content expression.

His chin dips in a bashful acknowledgement, tucked to his chest as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your face. He still isn’t used to having someone waiting up for him; the thought only adds to the weight of his self-reproach.

“How was patrol?” you ask as Joel pulls away, though your eyes rake over him with another question in mind.

Before he can answer, you reach out and grab the front of his jacket, bringing the material to your nose to confirm what Joel already knew. “You smell like smoke.”

He swallows the sandpaper feeling in his mouth and shrugs. “Got a little cold out tonight, we stopped to make a fire on our way back.”

He cringes internally at his halfhearted attempt at avoiding the matter, but it doesn’t seem to deter you from putting the pieces together anyway.

“No,” you interject, brows pulled together in confusion. “You smell like cigarettes.”

He’s silent for a moment, unable to think of an honest way out of this conversation. “Huh.”

“Joel,” you drawl, standing and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. A teasing grin pulls at the corners of your mouth, a scandalized amusement that makes his cheeks burn. “Have you been smoking?”

Your fingers weave through the dark curls at the nape of his neck, tugging softly until his head rolls back.

His eyes flutter shut and he shudders as he pulls the offending pack from his pocket. “Found ‘em on patrol,” he pants, his free hand gently squeezing your hip. “People leave all sorts of useful things behind when the world’s endin’.”

You offer only a simpering tsk in response, not quite the reaction Joel was expecting.

The night air is silent beyond the quiet lull of Jackson and the floorboards shifting under your feet as you shuffle closer together, sharing an intimate moment in the dim light seeping through the front room windows. Joel’s hands are a firm presence on your waist, separated from your skin by only the thin flannel shirt you’d stolen from his closet.

Eventually, you pull away, ushering him into the seat you’d abandoned upon his arrival. He drops into the rocking chair with a grunt and drags you into his lap.

“Missed you, baby” he murmurs, admiring the way you fit perfectly into the hollow of his frame, the way you balance yourself overtop him with practiced ease.

He knows he should be more concerned about your indifferent reaction, more worried about the possibility of someone walking by. But his sensibility is swept away by the heave of your chest and the little sound you make when his hand presses against the base of your spine.

Your hips drag slowly over his and for a moment, Joel thinks you’ve forgotten about the cigarettes. Or maybe you won’t mind his indulgence as long as he makes up for it. The warmth of your body pressed against his makes Joel ache for more, ready to offer an apology with more than just his words.

Just as he leans in to press his mouth to yours, you pull away far enough that he misses.

“Ah-” you stop him with a raised hand, fingertips pressed to his pouted lips. “You can kiss me when you don’t smell like cigarettes.”

The warm, hazy feeling is suddenly ripped from the air. Joel’s head jerks back in a look of disbelief, mouth hung open and brows pulled together as if he’d been scorned. “You’re serious?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, running a hand over his chest to soothe his trampled ego. “Can’t stand the smell, baby. You know that.”

The rocking chair dips forward as Joel drops his head onto your shoulder with a groan. “That’s just cruel.”

“It’s not cruel,” you laugh, pushing back the mess of curls falling into his face. “When you come home from patrol, I wanna taste you, not smoke.”

Your hips stir over his once again and Joel swears under his breath. His cock twitches in interest and he begrudgingly accepts the torment of your slow pace. This isn’t the time to take charge and chase his high; he’ll let you take the reins until you decide that he’s forgiven.

He picks his head up to glance around the empty streets, assuring himself that there’s no one here to witness his weak-willed acquiescence.

“I wanna touch you, make you feel good,” you continue, ghosting your fingers over the front of his jeans. “But how can I do that when all I can think about is those nasty cigarettes? Hmm?”

Your hands travel back to his chest, but your hips continue to roll over his, trapping his stiff cock beneath the comfortable pressure of your thighs. His eyes flutter shut once more as he leans back into his seat and lets you have your fun.

It doesn’t take long for Joel to near his end, subtly bucking his own hips to help himself along. He’s right there, right at the edge of his release, knuckles turning white as his grip tightens on the arm rests and—

The weight in his lap is gone, replaced with an empty chill that makes Joel’s hips stutter. His eyes snap open as he struggles to focus in his blissed-out state, but a hand on his shoulder brings him back to reality.

You’re standing in front of him now, no longer providing the friction that’d been fueling the fire in his belly. “Sorry, baby. You don’t get off that easy.”

He groans when you crawl back into his lap and you’re flooded with a sense of empowerment. It shouldn’t feel this good to see Joel suffer. You know it’s not fair to tease him like this, but maybe he deserves a little punishment.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been smoking, I’d let you enjoy this. Let you use your mouth to make me come, let you fuck me the way you want to.”

Joel stays silent, obedient. He swallows around shallow gasps of air that make his chest rise and fall with the labor of his breaths, thighs tensing as he struggles not to chase that feeling dangling just out of reach.

“I could do this all night,” you note, settling your weight in his lap again, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And I think you’d let me.”

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #the last of us fic #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x y/n #sub!joel #sub!joel miller

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andvys · 8 months

Text

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 4

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of drugs, allusions to homophobia

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Steve finds himself yearning for your attention.

Word count: 7k+

A/N: @nemesis729 I had to put in one of your ideas/suggestions! thank you for the inspiration <3

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Let go. Just let go. Let her go. He has been repeating those words in his head since, well, since he left you. He can’t understand what it is that just pulls him back to you all the time. Whether it’s all in his head or not. He keeps coming back to you and it irritates him because why does this keep happening?

He left you because he didn’t love you, he left you because he fell in love with her but why isn’t it enough? Why isn’t his love for the other girl enough for him to finally push you out of his mind and out of his life? You seemingly had no problem doing it with him. You pushed him out of your life already so why can’t he do the same?

The conversation with Billy only left him feeling more irritated.

Shouldn’t he feel peace, knowing that you aren’t hurting anymore? Shouldn’t he be content with his life now that he finally got what he wanted?

He doesn’t feel at peace and he doesn’t feel content and it causes anger to rise up in him because why?

Why, why, why…

Maybe it’s a good thing that he couldn’t find you anywhere after the conversation with Billy. He looked for you but you were nowhere to be found. He wanted to talk to you about the essay, despite you telling him that you’d call after school. He most certainly would have talked about something else, something that would make things even worse between the two of you.

The tiny voice in his head that kept telling him to let go, eventually got to him. He gave up on trying to find you and he went to find his girlfriend instead. He took her out for a late lunch at Benny’s Burgers and then brought her to the book shop she loves so much before he ‘begrudgingly’ canceled their movie night– Nancy didn’t seem to mind it that much, saying that she would rather work on her project anyways. After he had dropped her off at her house, he went home, walked into his empty house and waited for your phone call.

But you never called.

“Is it just me or does Steve seem different?”

Heather looks at you through the mirror, annoyance flashing in her eyes in an instant at the mention of your ex boyfriend. She lowers the dress that she was holding against her body and sighs.

“Different how?” She asks as she hangs it back on the rack before she reaches for the purple one, the one you claimed as your favorite.

You shrug, “I don’t know, it’s just, he seems less– nevermind.”

Chrissy raises her eyebrows at you, “no, no.. keep going.”

You blush a little, regretting bringing him up. You look around the bustling store, Heather isn’t the only one looking for a dress for the winter formal next week, a few girls from school are around as well. In fact, Carol Perkins is here too, currently holding up a baby blue dress, just the sight of her makes you want to throw up.

You never liked her or her boyfriend. Steve had always been friends with Tommy. Carol only came along when she started dating the unfriendly jock. When you had only been friends with Steve, you never hung out with them, you didn’t like them and you didn’t get along with them, not even when you started dating Steve and you were forced to tag along. You always hated the way Steve behaved when he was with them, he always turned into someone else, he let them influence him into doing things that he normally wouldn’t do. They always laughed behind his back, they used him for money and for popularity. You tried showing him that they weren’t real friends but he didn’t believe you or maybe he just didn’t care about what you thought of them.

She must’ve changed his mind after only one month of dating, he dropped his friends. She got through to him after only one fucking month.

“He wants to work on the stupid essay with me– he never did that before, he always convinced me to write them for him, even when I wasn’t part of them and now he wants to write it himself and he started reading Pride and Prejudice, willingly!”

“That’s because he’s already crawling back to you,” Heather mumbles, “they always do that.”

Chrissy nods.

“Not that I’d ever take him back but I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Then what is the case, y/n?”

You shrug and look down, “I let go of things so I’m not holding onto him or what we used to have if you think that. I don’t want him anymore, not after what he did. It’s just, I’m starting to realize that he truly never loved me. He never changed for me. It’s not that I asked much of him, I just wanted him to drop his toxic friends and for him to start doing better in school so we could go to college together, I just wanted what’s best for him but he never cared about what I wanted. Yet, he cares about what she wants. He dropped his friends for her right away, he started doing better in school for her. That’s what you do when you love someone, you do better for them,” you pause, looking down, you play with the hem of your cheer skirt, “you are willing to change for the right person… So, I guess she is the right one for him. I never was.”

Heather and Chrissy share a look, one of pity. Both girls know that you have let go of your first love but the pain and the heartbreak is still fresh. Steve had always been there, all your life, he had been by your side. He was your friend and then he was more than that, you were hopelessly in love, blinded by it to see how bad he was treating you or how he never even deserved to have a chance with you.

Neither of them can imagine the pain you are still going through– he was the one for you.

“I don’t think that she is the right one for him, I think that he’s a blind fool, that’s what he is,” Chrissy says.

Heather raises her brows, “he’s a real fucking clown, that’s what he is. He dropped the hottest girl there is because he set his eyes on some shiny new toy that’s no one touched before and now he is already crawling back. Not even two months in and he’s already back in your bedroom.”

You scrunch your face up at her words, raising your head, “don’t say it like that, makes it sound like we hooked up.”

“You wouldn’t, right?” Chrissy asks as she stares at you with big eyes, “h-hook up with him or, I don’t know.. kiss him?”

You instantly shake your head, “no! It’s bad enough that I have to do this stupid assignment with him. I don’t ever want him near me again, King Steve is dead to me– besides, he has her now so..”

“Yeah and he cheated on you with her,” Heather says with disgust in her eyes, “he’ll do it again– or, she will do it.”

“Oh and she will.”

At the sound of her voice, you all share a look of annoyance. Heather rolls her eyes, she throws the dress over her forearm, putting her other hand on her hip as she looks at the redhead.

You and Chrissy turn your heads to look at Carol, who as always, is chewing her gum and twirling her hair as her eyes flicker back and forth between the three of you.

“I’m sorry but who invited you into this conversation?” You ask, giving her a false smile.

“Oh, I just thought that you’d be interested in hearing about what I had to say but hey–”

“Tell us,” Chrissy says.

Carol tilts her head, laughing a little.

The cashier behind the counter raises her head, finally tearing her eyes away from the magazine she’s been staring at for the past forty minutes, she looks between you all, mumbling something under her breath that you can’t make out, the Christmas music is too loud.

“Nancy has a new friend– Jonathan Byers.”

“And?” Heather shrugs.

“Well, they seem to be getting really cozy with each other. She is canceling date nights just to hang out with him and Steve is an idiot, I mean he always was so he is kinda blind to the whole thing but when Tommy made a comment about it, he blew up on us, he left us stranded on some parking lot–”

“We don’t wanna hear your sob story about why King Steve stopped being your friend, Carol.”

She looks down at you where you are sitting on the couch, eyes flashing with irritation but the grin remains on her lips.

“Well, all I’m gonna say is, their relationship isn’t going to last. Weirdly enough, she started being a little distant ever since he deflowered her. Wouldn’t it be funny if that’s all she wanted him for?” She giggles, giving you a pitiful look, “for sex? I mean, getting to have your first time with King Steve must be really special, right?”

Irritation sparks inside of you but you don’t show it. A smile tugs at your lips and you shrug, “not really, Carol. There is nothing special about a man, ever.”

Your friends chuckle at your words.

Carol lets a small laugh leave her lips, though it’s more sarcastic.

“So, who knows, maybe she stole him from you to hop on his dick, maybe she has a thing for wanting things that she can’t have– although, she did get what she wanted,” she snorts, “but Nancy’s eyes are on the little freak and his eyes, well,” she pauses, smirking at you as she eyes you up and down, “they are elsewhere too,” she chuckles.

Carol walks past you and Chrissy, staring at the dress in Heather’s hands, she touches the silk material with her fingertips before she brushes past her.

“If I were you, I’d get him back, y/n.”

You want to scoff and roll your eyes but that’s exactly what she wants from you. You tilt your head and raise your brows at her.

She glances back at you over her shoulder, “I mean, losing your boyfriend to some loser is pathetic, especially for someone like you, y/n. I mean, the queen of Hawkins High losing to some little nerd?” She laughs.

You lean back against the couch and cross your arms over your chest. You couldn’t care less about your stupid title.

Heather squints her eyes at Carol and steps closer to her, “you know what’s pathetic?” She asks, not giving her the chance to respond, “drooling over some guy who isn’t your boyfriend and walking around trying to stir shit up.”

“Yeah, she moved on if you haven’t noticed,” Chrissy mumbles from beside you.

Carol turns around, she looks at you before she eyes your friend, “with who? You?” She laughs.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips. The smugness on her face, the everlasting smirk and the amusement in her eyes is so irritating to you.

You fail to notice the blush on Chrissy’s cheeks or the embarrassment in her eyes. Carol smirks, she notices the look on her face and so does Heather who narrows her eyes, glaring at Carol and eying Chrissy slowly.

“I know what you are, Chrissy–”

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Heather interrupts her, “go and find yourself a dress, it’ll take you some time,” she says, eyeing the redhead up and down.

Chrissy squirms in her seat, she begins to twist the ring on her finger. You frown when you notice it, knowing that it’s a nervous habit of hers. Carol’s words confuse you a little but you don’t think too much into them. She leaves after giving all of you her judgmental looks.

Heather turns back to you both the moment Carol is out of eyesight. Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head, “I swear to god, she is everywhere– are you okay?” She asks you.

You nod, “yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You ask, plastering a smile on your face.

Both of them look at you skeptically but instead of questioning you, they quickly change the topic, knowing that you desperately need the distraction.

“You know what you should do? You should pick out the hottest dress,” Heather smirks as she looks through all the dresses, “show up at the snowball and make him see what he lost.”

A smile tugs at your lips.

“Yeah and make him regret everything,” Chrissy smiles, nudging your shoulder.

You giggle, shaking your head, “I don’t even have a date.”

Heather laughs, waving you off, “I know a few guys who would be happy to take you to the dance.”

“Yeah, me too..” Chrissy mumbles.

You shake your head at them and get up, walking towards Heather, you reach for the dress in her hands, “how about we make you two look hot. I don’t feel like going anyways, so…”

Heather sighs, her shoulders slump, “come on, we’ve been talking about this since the summer.”

“Yeah. We talked about our matching dresses,” Chrissy says as she gets up as well, “we can still find a pretty one for you, y/n.”

“And a date.”

You truthfully don’t care about the dance anymore, you only wanted to go there because of Steve, the thought of him picking out a tie that matches your dress and him inviting you for a slow dance seemed so perfect and romantic for you back then, now it’s just something that no longer matters to you. You don’t feel like going to the dance with someone who couldn’t care less about you and the thought of sitting at a lone table while your friends have the time of their lives makes you want to slam your head against the wall.

Shaking your head, “no, there’s no one I’d wanna go with.”

“Are you sure about that?” Heather mumbles as she squints her eyes at you.

Furrowing your brows, you chuckle, “uh yeah, I am sure.”

Chrissy eyes Heather with a curious expression, “what do you know?”

“Nothing,” you snort, “she knows nothing, Chris.”

Heather smirks.

“Is this about Billy Hargrove ‘cause if so, ew?” Chrissy mumbles, clearly not liking the idea of you going out with Billy.

“Not Billy,” she smirks and turns around, “although he did tell me something very interesting,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

Sighing, you turn away from your friends and chuckle, “you didn’t hear anything, Heather.”

“Oh yeah?” She asks, “and what about the stoner you’ve been hanging out with?”

Chrissy gasps, “what stoner!”

“There is no stoner!”

Steve’s back aches when he wakes up, a groan falls from his lips, he opens his eyes, feeling a little disoriented when he looks around the living room. He fell asleep on the loveseat his mom always relaxes in when she reads one of her favorite novels. Rubbing his eyes, he frowns a little. Your book is lying on his chest, he must have fallen asleep while reading it– while he was waiting for your phone call.

The phone call that never came.

He waited and waited but you never called. Time wouldn’t pass, no matter what he did, it just didn’t pass while he waited for you to call him. Eventually, he reached for the book in his backpack and continued reading it, though his eyes kept straying away to the telephone.

His thoughts kept going back to you just like they do now.

What did you do last night?

Where were you last night?

Who were you with last night?

Why didn’t you call?

Using a bookmark, he puts it in between the pages that he has to reread again. He closes it and puts it down. He feels a little irritated. What is this radio silence? You promised to call, you broke it, the promise. You were never one to break promises.

He canceled his date with Nancy just for you, so you could both work on the essay, together.

Frowning in annoyance, he walks towards the telephone, grabbing the receiver, he dials your number, still remembering it. But just like he suspected, you don’t pick up the phone. He calls you once, twice and a third time until he finally gives up.

Why won’t you pick up?

Sighing, he slams the receiver back into place. He runs his fingers through his messy hair and shakes his head as he makes his way into the kitchen to brew some coffee. His mind is occupied by you. Not her. You are not the girl he should be thinking about. He should be thinking about her, he should be planning a date or think about the right Christmas present he should get her, instead he thinks about you. It’s always you.

The morning goes by and so does the afternoon. He takes a shower, he cleans his room, he reads, he starts writing the essay, he even cooks and still no call from you.

By the time the evening rolls around, he is fuming. What is more important than an essay? You were never one to abandon school work, it was always your first priority. What changed?

He grabs his textbook, his coat and his car keys before he makes his way out of the house. Only as he steps out into the cold, does he notice the blanket of white enveloping the streets of Hawkins. Snowflakes are falling from the sky, the silence is almost eerie.

The snow always reminds him of you, the way he kissed you for the first time after removing the snowflake from your lashes.

He sighs, shaking the thought of the way your lips felt when they touched his for the very first time. He makes his way towards his car, removing the snow off the windshield before he gets inside. Throwing his textbook on the passenger seat, he rubs his hand together to warm them up a little before he starts his car.

It’s only a five minute drive to your house, yet, tonight it feels longer than that. He doesn’t know why.

He parks his car behind yours, which is luckily the only one in your driveway. But the house is dark, no lights are on. He doubts that you are home, he still gets out of his car. Locking it, he puts the keys in his pocket. The snow crunches beneath his shoes. The cold air stings his cheeks a little.

He rings your doorbell twice, the way he always used to do.

You don’t open.

He knocks and rings the doorbell again.

Still you don’t open.

Where are you?

It’s on Monday when he finally sees you again. You are standing by your car, holding your backpack against your hip, rummaging through it. Your hair keeps falling in front of your face, you are muttering something under your breath.

Steve approaches you with a frown.

You don’t notice him coming, only as he stops in front of you, accidentally kicking some snow towards you.

“Where have you been all weekend?!” He asks, throwing his hands up.

Raising your brows, you stop rummaging through your bag and lift your head to look at him. The stressed expression on his face makes you want to laugh. He has dark circles under his eyes, his hair is a little messy but that might be because of the wind.

“I’m sorry?” You chuckle.

His hazel eyes flash with confusion, he shakes his head a little, “where have you been?”

“How’s that any of your business?” You mumble as you zip your backpack shut and pull the strap over your shoulder, brushing past him, he instantly follows you.

“I– we were supposed to work together, remember?” He exclaims, staring at you in disbelief, “I waited for you all night on Friday, I showed up on Saturday night and you weren’t there!”

You notice the curious eyes on you– not his but the ones of the students when you walk into the school with him hot on your heels.

“I was busy.”

“With what?” Steve asks, furrowing his brows, “I know school is your first priority, since when do you put anything else before it?”

You shrug, looking over your shoulder to glance at him, “since I changed my priorities.”

“And what are those?”

“Those are none of your business, Steve.”

He follows you to your locker.

“We lost three days, y/n! We could have made some progress!”

You squint your eyes and turn to look at him, he looks stressed.

“Do you think I wanna work with you?” You mumble, “I got better things to do.”

Steve shuts his mouth. Sighing, he leans against the locker next to yours and takes a moment to look at you. You abandoned your cheer uniform yet again. Your hair is open, you are wearing a sweater that looks way too big on you and a plaid skirt. He can smell your perfume, it’s not the same one anymore.

“Like what? Hanging out with stoners?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“We got five days to work on this stupid essay, I can write it in one day!” You exclaim, not bothering to answer his question that he so desperately wants.

You don’t look at him directly and you don’t tell him what he wants to hear, yet again.

“I don’t wanna work on it on the last day!”

Rolling your eyes, you shut your locker and put your hand on your hip, facing him again.

“You know what, fine,” you sigh. You narrow your eyes at the redhead who walks past you, already wearing a smug look on her face when she looks between you and Steve.

“Where do you wanna meet up today?” You ask with a bored expression on your face.

Steve blinks. For a moment, he stays quiet and he looks at you, he looks into your eyes, desperately trying to read them. What happened to you? You don’t seem like yourself, you seem different. He steps closer to you, your perfume isn’t the only thing he smells, there is a hint of smoke and weed lingering. He swallows, concern rushes through him. Your eyes are a little red rimmed, from crying or from smoking weed, he can’t tell.

A part of him tells him to ask if you are okay, the other part tells him that it’s not his job to ask you this question, not anymore.

“Hello?” You mumble, waving your hand in front of his face, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Uh, we could meet up at the coffee shop downtown?” He suggests.

You nod, “yeah, sure. I’ll meet you there after school.”

You don’t give him the chance to respond, you turn around and walk away before he can even utter a word. Steve frowns as he watches you leave. He might never get used to this, to the cold shoulder you are giving him. It’s been a long time since he had seen a side of you that he used to know, now you just seem like a stranger. You changed, it’s obvious you did. Every smallest thing about you is new to him.

You used to be on time. Whenever he would pick you up for date nights or for school, you would already sit on your porch steps waiting for him with an excited smile on your face. He was the one who showed up late, now it’s you.

It’s 5:25 pm when you finally walk into the coffee shop. I’ll meet you after school, you said. School ended two hours ago, he went straight to the coffee shop, he even chose your favorite spot and waited for you as he continually looked down at his watch.

You look around and he has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, he is annoyed. When your eyes find him, you take a moment to look at him, he sees the way you look at him, even from afar. You look irritated and annoyed, just like he does, still, you make your way over to him. Pride and Prejudice is lying open on the table, you see the page number; 301. Surprise is what you feel when you stare at the number, you raise your brows. Did he actually read that much?

“Hi,” you mumble.

Taking your coat off and scarf off, you throw it on the bench before sliding into the little booth.

“Yeah, hi,” he mutters angrily, “I waited for you for two hours!”

Leaning back, you raise your head to look at him. His hazel eyes are filled with anger and annoyance, it’s almost amusing to you.

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” He exclaims.

His brows knit together and his cheeks grow red.

“We didn’t make any plans–”

“You said we’d meet after school, y/n.”

“Yeah but I didn’t say when,” you smile, “I’m here now so relax, Steven.”

“Where were you?”

Where were you, Steve? You had asked him this question so many times, yet you never got an answer so why should you give him one?

“I was busy doing stuff.”

He opens his mouth to speak but decides against it, he clenches his jaw and turns away from you to look out the window. He deserves it, he knows he does. It had taken him some time to realize some things but ever since Nancy and a couple of kids had stepped into his life, he began to see things a little clearer. He began to realize that he mistreated you, though he is still in denial because the guilt is just too heavy.

He stood you up. He showed up late. He was awful to you. Now you are doing the same thing to him and he knows he had it coming. Deep down, he knows it. But he feels the ugly burning in his chest, the one he only ever felt when he saw Billy flirting with you or any other guy.

Where were you? Were you with Billy? With the Stoner?

“Did you actually read it?”

He turns back to you, you look at him in curiosity.

“Yeah.”

“Seriously?” You ask, “301 pages?”

He nods, “yes.”

You are genuinely impressed. For someone who always hated reading, he is quick. What did she do to him that you couldn’t?

Giving him a lopsided smile, you raise your brows, “impressive. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I mean, there’s some good quotes in there. I just don’t like the slow burn.”

“Really?” You ask, leaning your elbows on the table, you move closer, “I love the slow burn– what quotes do you like the most?”

He blinks as he stares at you, this is the first time you talk to him ‘normally’.

“Uh, I’ve written some down,” he mumbles, squinting his eyes as though he tries to remember, “I think it’s uh – ‘they walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to be thought, and felt– a-and… uh–”

“And said, for attention to any other objects.” You mumble, finishing the quote for him. You refuse to look into his eyes but your heart is bleeding in your chest.

“Y-Yeah.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“We do not suffer by accident.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. He can see the way you stare at your hands, awkwardly, avoiding his eyes. The silence between the two of you is loud and awkward.

“It’s a good one.”

“Yeah..”

Steve feels the urge to reach out and take your hands in his, he doesn’t know why. When you look up at him and your eyes lock with his, his heart stops beating for a moment. He can’t read you, not anymore. He knows that you have built up high walls around you, not letting him see you anymore. It bothers him because he wants to see you so badly, he wants to know what you are thinking about, what you are feeling. If you still have feelings for him..

“Y/n–”

“I started working on it already!” You interrupt him, “do you wanna read what I have so far?”

He sighs, shoulder slumping and his expression sinking for a moment. “Y-Yeah, I wanna read it.”

“Okay,” you whisper as you slide the notebook towards him, “I uh, I’m gonna get myself something to drink.”

“Yeah sure.”

You push yourself up and smooth down your skirt before you take the first step away from the table. Your emotions are in overdrive, you still feel so much anger for him but deep down, beneath all the layers of anger and pain is the yearning, the longing in your heart that you still feel for him despite the way he treated you.

You preferred the radio silence between you two in those weeks you have pretended that he stopped existing. It was much easier to deal with all of this when you stayed away from him but now you can’t. The thought of spending time with him, every day for the rest of this week makes you want to cry.

Having to look at him and feel yourself still wanting him, makes you hate yourself. It fuels the anger and worsens the ache in your heart. It makes you want to run away. At one point you even think it’s worth dropping the essay and risking failing the class just because you don’t want to be around him but you would only make things worse for yourself. Steve Harrington isn’t worth the bad grade.

You make it through the evening, dodging questions that aren’t related to the essay. You continue giving him the cold shoulder, only speaking up when needed. You want this to get over with quickly.

The next day goes by similarly, Steve asks questions and you stay silent. He tries to find out more about who you spend time with. He asks about Billy and mentions the Stoner, Billy told him about but he gets nothing from you, absolutely nothing.

Why should you tell him anything?

Why should you tell him who you spend time with? Why should you tell him where you have been all weekend? You don’t owe him anything. He is not a part of your life anymore, yet he keeps acting like he is, he keeps prying and throwing questions at you that he knows he will get no answers to.

You don’t care how annoyed or frustrated he gets with you, he has no reason to even ask those questions.

On Wednesday, Steve finds himself in your bedroom again. He is sitting on your carpet, staring at all the chaos in front of him. You kept criticizing his texts, crumbling up all the papers and throwing them on the ground. It’s been hours and hours of writing and rewriting, you barely made any progress.

Now you are rewriting his part.

The dark denim jacket is still in your room. Maybe it’s just yours. At least he hopes it is.

“Why don’t you like Mr. Darcy?” You break the silence.

“He’s arrogant.”

You snort, “you should meet yourself.”

A little offended, Steve scrunches his face up, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you are arrogant and you’re a dick,” you murmur under your breath, thinking that he won’t hear.

But he did hear, he doesn’t speak up, though. He wants to hear what else you will say about him. After weeks of no reactions, no arguments, no anger directed at him, he is left wondering what you think of him. The past few days you have been calm but the energy surrounding you tonight is tense.

“You are wealthy and arrogant like Mr. Darcy and you can be condescending sometimes. That’s something I never liked about you, the way you treated people who are less popular and liked than you are. You can be mean.”

“Mean?” He asks.

You push yourself up on your knees and look down at him, “yeah, you were mean to me.”

He looks up at you, a strand of hair falls in front of his eyes, his lips are set in a frown. He doesn’t look angry or pissed, he looks curious.

“When?”

You promised yourself that you wouldn’t do this, that you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing him that he got to you, that his actions hurt you. Another part of you doesn’t care, it’s all in the past, you don’t have to show him what you feel now, right?

“All the time, Steve.”

His face falls a little, his lips part, he looks like he wants to say something but he can’t form any words, right now. He stares into your eyes, the tugging feeling in his chest returns. The urge to apologize the way he wanted to do two days ago comes back.

You look at each other for a while. The only sound being the howling wind outside. The music stopped playing a while ago. You watch the way his eyes soften, the way they flash with sadness and regret, it makes your heart hurt.

Your hand itches to reach out to him, to run your fingers through his hair and smooth it out, to touch his cheek and feel him again. He looks at you differently now. He talks to you differently now and it hurts.

He is much more gentle and kind. It hurts to know that it’s her whom he changed for.

He grew up with you, he was your friend first, he was your lover first, he was your boyfriend first but you were never good enough for him. You see the way he is with her, even when everyone, including him, thinks that you don’t look at him anymore, you do. You secretly watch him. He touches her gently, he kisses her softly, he stares at her and smiles when she isn’t looking, he kisses her hand and carries her books, he wraps his arms around her waist and he gives her his jacket when she is cold. He loves her, he genuinely loves her.

You wonder if he knows how horrible she is, how cruel her words can be – but then again, his words were just as cruel when he spit them in your face before he shattered your heart into a million pieces.

Now he looks at you with those eyes that you longed for when he was still yours. Soft eyes. Now, you can’t stand them. You don’t want him to look at you like that.

You force yourself to look away from him. You stand up and pick up all the papers on your bed, throwing some of them in the trash.

Steve watches you, not taking his eyes off of you yet.

“But also, you’re kind of a clown, so you’re very far from being like Mr. Darcy.”

Steve tilts his head up to look at you with a frown on his face, a laugh tumbles from his lips, “a clown?”

“Yeah,” you smirk when you notice the offended look on his face, “they call you King Steve but you’re really just a clown who entertains all the girls.”

“Uh–”

“Really, I know college isn’t on your list of things to do in life but maybe a circus would do for you.”

“Look who’s being mean now,” he murmurs as he stands up.

“I’m not being mean, I’m just being honest,” you say, “you’re a clown just like all the other douchebags on the basketball team. Honestly, I don’t know how it just occurred to me that you all look ridiculous running after one ball – but then again, you also do that with everything else in life, you all see one desirable woman and you are all running after her like a hungry pack of wolves.”

Steve looks a little caught off guard, though he doesn’t look mad, not even in the slightest. If you had said these things to him two months ago, he would have gotten off on you.

“Yet you still go for clowns like me?”

You laugh, “oh you admit to being a clown?”

He rolls his eyes at you.

“No, I don’t go for clowns like you anymore, Steve. I think I learned my lesson. I’d never do that again.”

Instantly, his eyes flicker to the denim jacket on your chair. So it certainly isn’t Billy’s.

“So.. you didn’t sleep with Billy?”

A look of disgust that you can’t fight off this time crosses your face and you shake your head, “what ever made you think that I want to fuck Billy Hargrove?” You ask. “In what world would I touch that man?”

“Well, he told me.”

You snort and shake your head in disbelief.

“Billy says a lot of things that aren’t true.” Except for the one time he did tell you the truth.

He won’t argue with that, he knows you’re right. Still, a part of him believed him.

You walk towards him and bend down to pick up the crumpled paper balls on the ground. You also throw them in the trash.

“Who’s the stoner you’ve been seeing?” He blurts out as his eyes stick to the jacket again, “is that his jacket?”

A part of you wants to laugh in amusement, the other part of you is pissed at him for sounding so jealous. If you wouldn’t have figured it out by the tone in his voice, then you would have known by the look on his face.

You know Steve like the back of your hand. Right now, he is jealous. Why? You have no idea. He never loved you, he never actually wanted you. He wanted to own you and that’s what he still does in his head. That’s why he keeps asking you all these questions, that’s why he lets Billy’s words get to him. That’s why he hates the thought of you being someone else’s.

You walk towards him with a smirk on your face, “none of your business, Harrington.”

To know that it troubles him so much to the point that his cheeks glow red makes you feel satisfied.

“Just tell me, please.”

You snort, “no way.”

He steps closer to you and looks down at you with pleading eyes. What the hell?

“Why should I tell you?”

“Because I wanna know,” he mumbles. He pokes at your waist, making you flinch. He knows that you are ticklish. He does it again but this time, you grab his finger.

“Stop that!”

He uses his other hand, poking the other side of your waist, hard enough for you to giggle.

“S-Steve, stop!” You snap at him, trying to keep a straight face but when he does it again, you flinch and try to step back but he pulls his finger out of your grip and wraps his arm around your waist to keep you from escaping.

“I’ll stop when you tell me,” he says. His eyes light up when you giggle again. You squirm in his arms, trying to push him away.

You don’t know how it happens but for a minute, you get so lost in the moment. For a minute, you forget about everything that had happened, you forget about the heartbreak and the pain that he had put you through, you forget about how he had cheated on you, how he had lied to you, you forget about the things he spit in your face, you forget about how he never loved you. For a minute, you forget it all.

What starts off with him poking your waist, ends with him tickling your sides and making you giggle and laugh as you step closer and closer to your bed. Steve is chuckling as he holds your squirming body against his. You try to fight him off but he is much stronger than you, you poke his sides but you don’t get much of a reaction out of him, if anything, it makes him hold you even tighter.

Tears from laughter well up in your eyes, your stomach begins to hurt from it all. As you near the edge of your bed, you stumble backwards when the back of your knees hit the mattress. Instinctively, you hold onto him and pull him down with you. When your back hits the soft cushions and he lands on top of you and you feel his chest pressed against yours for the first time in a while, you know that this should have been the moment for you to snap out of it and push him away but you are still in the bliss of the moment. Right now, you are in the past where things are still good.

You are still giggling and he is still chuckling. His nose bumps against yours and it only makes you laugh harder as you look into each other’s eyes. He lets go of your waist but he stays on top of you. His heart is racing, you can feel it.

Yours is racing too – and then, it flutters when his hand reaches out to cup your cheek. His fingertips graze your skin and his eyes roam your face. His other hand, pushes your hair away from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. Steve is so lost in the moment, he admires you, your pretty eyes, your beautiful face, the feeling of your body against his, the racing of your heart. He finds himself moving closer to you. It only feels right to do it.

There is this feeling between the two of you. Neither of you can describe it but it only makes you yearn for more. It fills you with false hope knowing that it will crush you again, a moment later.

While his smile lingers, yours falls quickly when you snap out of it and realize what is happening, right now. Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart stops beating and you freeze when you feel his lips brushing against yours.

Everything comes crumbling down, all the walls that you had built around you, all the strength you had found within yourself to push him out of your life, all the peace you have made with living a life without him.

It all fell down and one minute is all it took.

next part

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@mysticmunson @screammunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @hellfire--cult @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @take-everything-you-can

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things angst

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starry-eyes-love · 14 days

Text

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader (One-shot, AU, No Outbreak). One-shot but in the same universe as Marriage Dynamics. This happens way later than the storyline within that series though. Can be read as a stand-alone or within the series.

Summary | Joel feels a little self conscious that he has to admit to you, his wife, that he has erectile dysfunction, and that he’s out of his little blue pills. You, being the understanding and loving woman that you are, remind him just how sexy he is, even with his little problem and that love doesn’t come with conditions.

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Smut.

Age gap (58/40s), language, husband/wife dynamics, got some angst in this one (but it ends where they are ok and happy), smut, f! (fingering), m! (hand job), mentions of f! (oral), slight body descriptions (she states she’s 30 lbs heavier), mentions of erectile dysfunction and Joel having to take Viagra, Joel being out of Viagra (that poor man), sweet and tender moments, comfort, terms of endearment, you teasing Joel that he’s old and him showing you that he’s not. This is basically half story and half smut, so enjoy :)

No longer using tag lists, please make sure that your notifications are turned on for my page so you are notified when I post something new.

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The longer your husband snapped his powerful hips and ground into you, the more worked up you were getting. Joel knew how to work you up, get you so riled up that you’d beg him to fuck you. You were trying to bite back your moans and whimpers, not wanting to give in right away. But when you heard Joel speak filthy things into your ear, you turned into a needy, whimpering little mess.

Joel stood in the bathroom, looking up at himself in the mirror while sighing. He didn’t know how it happened. How did he become an old man where his body required medication to function normally. Here he was, 58, with a worn out body that he no longer recognized. He had spent his entire life working construction, and now he was feeling it. He had aches and pains in places that he didn’t even know existed. He took blood pressure and cholesterol medication everyday just to keep his body somewhat on the right track. But worst of all, he had to start taking a small blue pill to help him obtain and sustain an erection. Yup, Joel Miller was diagnosed about six months ago with erectile dysfunction, something that he thought only old men got. But here he was, 58, and having to take Viagra just so he could properly fuck his wife. Joel didn’t know what was worse, having to take the little blue pill or the fact that you knew nothing about it. To make matters worse, he ran out of his special little pills, and he couldn't get any more until about six weeks. His doctor was on vacation and wanted to see Joel upon his return before re-filling his prescription. Joel didn't know how, but he had to figure out a way to keep you happy, without embarrassing himself any further. As he ran a hand down his face, he exhaled loudly, mumbling to himself ‘goddamn, when the hell did I get old?’

“What's that scowl for, old man, especially so early in the morning?” You teased, walking up to the other sink in the bathroom to wash your face. Your master bathroom now had two sinks, his and hers. It was a side project that Joel had completed last summer with the help from Tommy. He got tired of your constant nagging of finding his facial hair trimmings in the sink. So he decided to knock out a few walls and build you your very own sink with counter space. A his and hers master bathroom off from your bedroom. It only took a few weekends, but eventually his little side project was done. Now you both had enough counter space, where the two of you weren't bickering about where everything went in the bathroom anymore. Joel no longer grumbled about you taking up his side of the counter with your serums and ointments for your face. And you no longer nagged him about finding his beard trimmings in the sink.

“Quit it,” he had huffed, giving you a dirty look in the mirror as he finished trimming his beard.

“Woah, what's that look for?” You asked, taking a few steps towards him to plant a tender kiss on his cheek. “Good morning. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?”

Joel exhaled and shook his head, mumbling to you, “mornin,’” as you went over to your sink to wash your face. You knew Joel enough to know that this scowl on his face was only reserved for when he was upset about something or someone. You had hoped that someone wasn't you.

“Did I piss you off or something?” You asked while looking at him in the mirror, trying to figure out where his sour mood was coming from. “You're awfully grumpy this morning.” When he didn't respond, you replied again with a little more bite to your words. “Well, for someone who got laid last night, you don't seem very happy about it today.”

Joel huffed at you while rolling his eyes and mumbling, “yeah, well, I'm paying for it this morning now ain't I? M’back is fucking killing me.”

Oh, so that's why he was grumpy.

A part of you instantly became frustrated at his statement, but you bit your lip and tried not to say something inappropriate back. You enjoyed last night a lot with your husband, especially when you begged him to go harder. His answer to that request was to hold your head against the mattress as he fucked you hard from behind. It had been a long time since Joel Miller became unhinged like that in the bedroom, and if you were being honest with yourself, it felt fucking fantastic. It was something that you desperately missed. However, according to Joel’s comments and current mood, apparently he didn't feel the same way today as you did. He was now hurting, wincing as he twisted to grab the scissors to trim his mustache. You didn't want Joel to regret doing what he did with you, nor did you want him to be in any pain. His obvious lack of enthusiasm this morning about your midnight activities made you feel self-conscious. Nodding your head you said “ok,” as you attempted to wash your face. But when you stood there you felt yourself get anxious and self conscious about last night.

Did he not enjoy it with me? Maybe it’s because I’m not as thin as I used to be anymore? I did put on about 30 pounds over the years, so maybe I hurt him with my weight? You knew your body had changed a lot over the years, you no longer had a flat stomach or a tight ass. You had what people called a mom body. A slightly curvy, unattractive, stretch-mark laced body that carried three kids. Your later adult years were more about raising your kids than it was about going to the gym and looking sexy like a model or a porn star.

As you stood there, allowing your mind to run wild at the reasons why Joel may have not enjoyed himself last night, your hands started to tremble slightly and your eyes started to sting from the tears that were threatening to form. You quickly splashed water over them to try to stop the emotional reaction that you were getting. You were very hormonal recently, especially since your doctor said that you needed to stop your birth control. She told you several months ago that it wasn't healthy for a woman in her forties to continue to take birth control. So you stopped last month, two months after Joel got a vasectomy. Joel and you were done having kids. With Sarah finishing college, and with three kids that you had with him still at home, you had agreed that the only other future babies that would be in your house would be future grandchildren. What you didn't realize was that when you stopped birth control you would become more sensitive with your emotions again as your body adjusted.

Usually any type of grumpy behavior or comments from Joel like this wouldn't bother you under normal circumstances, but today you were extra sensitive and emotional. It didn't help that you had been super horny for your husband for the past two weeks while he was gone on a business trip. With the lack of kids for the weekend, Joel had taken his last blue pill right before he got home. When he got home, he barely made it through the door before he was thrusting himself deep inside of you, claiming you once again as his.

Now as Joel stood there, watching you through the mirror, he knew something was up. You kept alternating between splashing water on your face and then drying it. When he saw you do it a fourth time, he had to say something to you.

“Babe,” he said, trying to get your attention. When you didn't answer, but kept up your routine of splashing water onto your face, he knew something was wrong. He also noticed that you untied and retied your robe several times, mumbling to yourself that you hated your mom-type body.

Fuck, Joel thought. He could see that you were reading too much into his mood and that you probably were coming to the wrong conclusion yet again with his attitude. Joel wasn't upset or grumpy from the sex he had last night, because damn he loved your body so much. He was so turned on by it last night. He loved pounding his wife’s tight little pussy and hearing all those filthy little noises that you made for him. The reason for his sour mood this morning was because he was out of those damn blue pills, the ones that allowed him to be buried deep inside of you as he heard you moan his name.

When you didn't answer him, he tried again. “Honey, will ya look at me for a second?” When you finally looked up at him, he saw your lip quiver and the tears begin to fall. He immediately let out an exaggerated sigh, mumbling ‘fuck’ under his breath.

As soon as you turned to leave, Joel spoke up saying, “baby, I didn't mean anything by it. Fuck, c’mere will ya.” You had only gotten about three steps out of the door before Joel grabbed you by the waist and pulled you hard against his chest.

“Baby c’mon, I didn’t mean it like that. No, shh, it’s okay, don’t cry,” Joel said, holding you close. He had one arm around your waist holding you firm to his body, while his other hand was gently wiping the tears from your eyes. You wouldn't turn to look at him, so he just held you against his chest while trying to console you. “Baby, come on now. Shhh, don't cry sugar. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I'm not cryin’,” you mumbled, trying to sound stern, but failing miserably at your attempt. Joel cupped your cheek, and gently turned your head back towards him, kissing you tenderly while continuing to softly tell you that he was sorry for his mood and that he loved you.

Joel Miller may be several things in life. He may be grumpy and not very communicative from time to time. Often he’s described by others as being an asshole, especially when people piss him off. Usually he doesn't apologize for his grumpiness or gruffness, unless it's dealing with family. And it fucking kills him to see you, his wife, someone that he desperately loves and cares for cry because of his behavior. Joel never likes seeing you cry, in fact, it’s his least favorite thing to see.

After a few moments of tender kisses, Joel slowly started to deepen them into more passionate ones. He was walking a fine line here. He was trying to make up for being an asshole to you this morning, but also trying not to progress it too far where his lack of ability in performance would be seen. But with those little whimpers that you were doing, along with how you were gently nipping his neck, Joel found his resolve quickly crumbling.

“Baby, we gotta slow down,” he said, nipping at your collarbone and then giving you a hot and messy kiss to your lips.

God, it felt so good kissing his wife like this. Joel didn't remember the last time you two made out like this; all lips, tongue and teeth. He slowly backed you up to the wall and then hoisted you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. After another needy whimper from your mouth, Joel's resolve completely crumbled and he found himself thrusting hard up into you and grinding his hips against your clothed core.

“Is this what my baby wants, huh? Does she want her husband to show her who’s boss? To show her how a real man fucks, hmm?

“Yes. Please baby, f-fuck me. Show me how a real man does it, I need it,” you panted, reaching down to unbuckle and unbutton his pants. Your cunt was practically throbbing. So desperate to feel your husband’s stretch, to feel so full of him. Joel was a big man, he was long and thick. You always enjoyed the sting of his stretch, and the heaviness of his cock inside of you.

As soon as you touched Joel’s belt, he remembered the big problem that he had. He was only half hard with the inability to get fully hard for you. Goddamn fucking pills. Joel, feeling embarrassed at the situation, gently set you back down while placing a hand on top of yours. He was trying to stop you from reaching inside his pants.

“Baby, fuck, we can't” he said, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours, breathing slow, trying to find a way out of this embarrassing situation.

“What? Why? I don't understand,” you said with disbelief. You were trying to understand why your husband, who had been gone several weeks on a work trip, didn't want to have sex with you when the kids were gone. “Is it your back, honey?” You asked somewhat perplexed. “If it is, I can be on top and do all the work for you if you want. I don't mind, really.” You said, trying to reason with Joel to let you touch him more. When he didn't respond you reached forward and palmed him, feeling him only half hard.

“Please stop.” Joel said in a stern voice, grabbing your hand and gently removing it. “I- uh, I can't- fuck- we can’t, ok.” He said, voice shaking as he slowly backed away from you, running a hand down his face. He was disgusted with himself and the fact that he couldn’t give his wife the proper attention that she deserved.

You stood there bewildered, unable to make sense of what was happening. Did Joel Miller just turn down sex? In all the years you two have been having sex together, he has never once stopped sex from progressing. You were racking your brain, trying to figure out why all of a sudden he’d stop you. And the only solution that you could think of was that maybe you weren’t the only person he was seeing like this. Maybe he, just like your father, had found a new favorite toy on the sideline. You looked at your husband with mortified eyes, fighting with the firm possibility that maybe he was no different than your dad; a lying, cheating, bastard. “Wow mom, I guess you were right, all men do fucking cheat.”

Joel snapped his head up in your direction at your statement. What did you mean that all men cheat? What the hell were you even talking about?

As you started to walk past Joel he grabbed your arm and said, “what the fuck do you mean all men cheat?”

“Joel, please” you said, struggling to keep your voice even.

“No,” he said, shaking his head and grabbing both of your arms, slightly shaking you in his grasp. “You think I’m cheatin’ on you, is that it? That I’m fucking another woman. Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he growled.

“Joel, please don’t do this. I-I-”

Joel saw your eyes in that moment, saw that you thought he was fucking someone else. That wasn't the case. He didn't want to admit his problem, but goddamn it, he wasn’t going to have you think that he was no different than your father. Joel had no idea all those years that his best friend, your father, was using him as a goddamn babysitter so that piece of shit could go out and ball half of Austin as your mother recovered from her cancer treatments before she died of cancer. No. Joel wasn’t a piece of shit like that, and goddamn, it killed him to have his wife think so low of him.

“Baby, ya gotta believe me. I ain’t fucking around on you, ok? Please sugar, ya gotta believe me. I’d never do that.” He said, clenching his jaw, battling with the anger and rage that was rising up inside of his mind. He didn’t want to explode at you over this. He wasn’t mad at you, he was disgusted with himself of why he wasn’t honest with you when all of this shit started for him.

Joel’s problem of not getting or being able to sustain an erection didn’t happen right away. It was a slow process. At first he thought that maybe it was because things in the bedroom had gotten a little stale. But when Joel struggled to keep an erection even when he was alone, he knew that something was wrong. He didn’t want you to worry, so he didn’t say anything to you. After a lot of embarrassing situations at home, and with himself, he decided that he needed to bring it up to his doctor. After a few tests, his doctor had diagnosed him with erectile dysfunction, and then had given him a prescription of Viagra to try. At first Joel was nervous about taking them, wondered if he’d feel different. But once he did, holy shit, it felt amazing. Those little blue pills were like a magic drug. He could last longer and was harder than he’d been in years. When he noticed your increase in sex drive because of it, he felt like he won the lottery, especially when he could give you two orgasms with just his dick alone.

But slowly, his secret was getting harder and harder to keep from you. He quickly realized that those pills took anywhere between 15 to 60 minutes before they started working, which created a problem when you were trying to be spontaneous with him in the bedroom. At first he played it off at being tired, needing to rest for a little bit. Sometimes he’d also tell you that he needed to take a shower first, to freshen up for you. But when you’d wake him up on a Sunday morning, rested and freshly showered the night before, he struggled keeping his secret. He started using blindfolds in the bedroom when the two of you would have sex, so he could hide the fact that he had to take a pill quick. Sometimes when he waited for it to work, he’d give you oral sex and edge you. On days when he couldn’t do that, he’d just lie and tell you that he had a really bad headache and he couldn’t have sex right now.

He hated lying to you. He always wanted to tell you the truth, but every time he got the nerve to tell you something would happen or it just wasn’t the right time. If he was being honest, he didn’t tell you because he felt embarrassed and ashamed at the situation.

As you took another step to go around him, he yelled out “I got erectile dysfunction, ok. And as much as I'd love to fuck ya right now, my dick won't- fuck- it doesn’t get hard like it used to and I ran out of my prescription pills. I ain’t cheatin’, I never have, and I’ve never wanted to. You got to believe me. I know, I’m sorry I haven’t been honest. But baby, I can’t do it anymore with you like we used to.” He said, voice cracking at the end. Joel covered his eyes for a moment with his hand, wiping the tears away.

“I want to fuck you so much right now, so much. But I can’t, ya hear me. It ain’t a different reason, baby. My body, it just won’t let me do it anymore. It won’t let me be the man that I’m supposed to be for you.”

You stood there shocked at his admittance. When you went to open your mouth to console him, Joel quickly cut you off by saying, “I don't need your pity right now. I know I can't perform up to my wife's satisfaction anymore without help. And before you ask, no, I can’t take a pill right now. I have to wait until my doctor is back from vacation in six weeks. And I get it, you can’t wait that long and-”

“Joel” you said, gently cupping his cheeks in your hands. “Honey, I'm so sorry that this has happened.” He scowled at you with your reply, shaking his head and trying to step away. “Baby, please let me finish,” you said, forcing him to stay near you.

After taking a big breath you said, “I wish you would have told me about this when it happened instead of hiding it. Can you get an erection at all or?”

“Sometimes I can,” he said with a sigh, “but it ain't anything to write home about.” Joel let out a long exacerbated sigh. “Fuck, I can't fuck my wife when it's only half hard like this ok, and I’d appreciate it if you didn't think less of me for it and-”

“Joel Allen Miller,” you said in a commanding tone. “I would never think less of you for this. Baby, I love you, and everything about you. Yeah it does cause a little bit of an adjustment for us, but honey, I don’t care. You’re my husband and you should never feel like you can’t tell me something like this, ok?” You then gently cupped your husband with your hand, slowly palming him, feeling him slightly stiffen.

“Baby I-” Joel said, straining, trying to stay level with his voice and not break down with his words again. He didn't feel like a worthy man right now, and he was so embarrassed to feel or admit it.

“Please, Joel” you softly spoke, “let me try baby, please?”

“Darlin', it ain't gonna-”

“It doesn't have to get fully hard. Just please, please let your wife show her husband how fucking sexy he is, even with this little problem.”

“It ain't a little problem darlin’.” He said, slowly leaning his hips into your touch. He desperately wanted to feel his wife, to be inside her, to fuck her and hear her moan his name.

“I know it ain’t a little problem honey,” you whispered, gently nipping Joel’s neck. You slowly started to unfasten his belt and unzipped his pants, lowering them with his boxers down to the floor. You encouraged him to step out of them, trying to get him as comfortable as possible. As you stood up, you slowly licked your hand, and then gently wrapped it around his half hardened cock, slowly stroking him the way he liked. You were also nipping, kissing, and lightly sucking on his neck, on the places that you knew drove your husband wild. As you continued, you whispered loving messages to him, things that you hoped would remind Joel of how much you loved him.

“You are so sexy baby, and so big and strong. I feel so safe with you. I've missed you so much. I missed hearing you snore,” Joel let out a little grunt at that statement. “I've missed hearing you play your guitar, humming in the morning while you make your coffee. I've missed kissing you goodnight, and waking up next to you in the morning with you holding me.”

Joel leaned forward more, pushing your back against the wall as he tapped one of your legs to open wider for him. He quickly placed his hand down your sleep shorts and started playing with your clit as you talked.

“I-ah-I also missed your, your-”

“You missed my what darlin'?” He growled, thrusting his hips into your hand as he started moving two of his large fingers in and out of your wet, throbbing core.

“Shit Joel, I'm-”

“Did ya miss this baby? Did ya miss your husband's fat fingers fucking you dumb?” He said, nipping at your sensitive spot on your shoulder.

“Mmhmm” you said, tightening your grip around his half hardened cock. Joel wasn't lying, he really did have erectile dysfunction. But at this moment, you didn't care. Your husband was curling those fingers perfectly inside of you, to where you were almost seeing stars while he continued to snap his hips back and forth hard, helping you stroke him the way he liked.

Even though he wasn't buried deep inside of you. Something about the lewd noises the two of you were making, in combination with not being able to see your husband for the past two weeks, was rapidly propelling you towards the edge with your orgasm.

Joel could feel your breaths becoming more erratic, and could feel your walls tightening around his fingers. He was also getting closer to finishing himself. Your hand was the perfect tight fit around his cock. He kept rocking his hips back and forth, fucking your hand, feeling himself leak precum everywhere. He wanted to bury himself so badly inside of you, but he knew that he couldn't. Just as he started to feel self conscious again about the situation, your filthy mouth forced him to stay in the moment.

“God, baby, I fucked myself so hard with my fingers when you were gone. But nothing ever felt as good as yours do right now. Fuck, next time I want to fuck myself with my fingers, I'm just gonna use yours-oh fuck.”

“Oh, you dirty fucking girl. Shit- You were fucking those- yeah baby- those small little fingers inside of you pretending- fuck- pretending that they were mine, huh?” He said, speeding up his thrusts with his hips and with his fingers.

“Yes Joel, fuck, don’t stop baby, please don’t-”

“I won’t stop, not until you gush around me.”

The two of you continued to pleasure each other, bringing each other towards the edge, but neither one tipping over just yet. “Joel, I need more, baby. P-please, give me more,” you moaned. You were desperately snapping your hips back and forth, wishing it was your husband’s cock that was inside of you.

“Aw baby, look at you, riding my fingers like the dirty little girl that y’are.”

“Joel, baby, please-”

“Say it,” Joel growled, “say I'm the only one who makes you feel this good.”

“You are Joel, you are.”

“Say I'm the only one who gets to fuck this tight little pussy whenever I want.”

“Fuck- You do Joel, you do. It's yours, she's all yours.”

“She's all mine, huh?” Joel said, feeling your walls put his fingers in a choke hold with how tight you were squeezing him. “If she's all mine, then do it. Fucking come for me. Show me who's pussy this really belongs to. Ya heard me, I said come, now,” Joel growled. That coil that had wound itself so tight in your belly snapped hard at Joel’s command. You screamed your husband's name as you coated his fingers with your juices. Joel tightened his grip around your hand that was stroking him, while continuing to work you through your orgasm. After a few more hard thrusts himself, he came all over your hand.

You both slowly came down from your highs, and you couldn't help but giggle at the acts that the two of you just did. It brought back memories of when Joel and you dated. As Joel’s giggles eased he slowly ran his hand that was coated with your juices through your hair.

“Hey you,” he said, smiling fondly down at you. God he loved you so much, in every way possible. You were his soulmate, his better half.

“Wow, where the heck did that come from?” You said, giggling to yourself again. When you looked up you saw how Joel was looking at you, like he could see your soul.

“I love you so much, you know that right?” He said, slowly running his nose along your jaw.

“I know,” you said, sighing at his affection.

He then grabbed your hair hard in the back of your head, pulling down slightly to force you to look up at him. It didn't hurt, just surprised you a bit, which forced you to listen to the next words that came out of his mouth.

“Then never, ever, hint at the possibility of me wanting to fuck another woman again, ok. Baby, you are the only one for me. I ain't your father, and I sure as fuck ain't my ex-wife.”

Your eyes widened at the mention of Joel's ex-wife, he never told you the in-depth story of what happened, just the highlights that they drifted apart. “Joel, I-”

“No, sweetheart, I ain't talkin’ about her. What's done is done. Just, don't ever say that to me again, hinting that I'd cheat on you. Cause baby, I'd never, haven't ever, won't-”

“Ok Joel, I promise. No more fussin’.” You gently kissed your husband, giving him the slow intimate affection he was just giving you. After a few more passionate and tender kisses, Joel sighed and rested his head against your forehead, while rubbing his nose slowly against your nose.

“I reckon we both need a shower,” he said after a moment, exhaling and laughing slightly to himself. “Come on, I'll get the shower started.”

When Joel got to the bathroom doorway you said, “wait a sec,” and then walked up to him as he turned around to look at you.

“Next time, please tell me this stuff ok? No more secrets.” He nodded his head in understanding as you leaned up and placed another tender kiss to his lips. When you pulled back you added, “good, cause I hate to break it to you. You’re officially now an old man.” Then with another small peck to his cheek, you sauntered off into the bathroom, giggling at the nickname that you gave him back when he was in his thirties. After starting the shower and getting in, you yelled back “are you coming old man, or do I need to help you with your wheelchair?”

“No wiseass, ya don't,” he yelled, looking up at the ceiling and shaking his head at your smartass remark.

When he looked down he saw himself in the mirror once again. Yes, he did have gray in his beard, in his hair, and on his chest. He also could see that he wasn’t as physically fit as he once was in his 30s, but he still looked good. He needed glasses to read most of the time now, and you and Sarah constantly harassed him about it. But that was ok. He liked it, and he loved you both dearly. He also creaked worse than the old board on the stairs, along with feeling his age every time he tried to do something that he knew he shouldn't.

Sure, he had to take medication for his high blood pressure and high cholesterol. And now he got to add a little blue pill to the regimen, just so he could have sex with his wife. He was also at that age where he needed a colonoscopy done, something that was scheduled next week for him.

With all of these things going on, Joel did have to admit that he was older than when he first started dating you. But even with this admission, he knew from the moments before that he’s never made you come so hard in your life from just his fingers alone. So you could say getting old did have its advantages.

With a small smirk on his face, and a slight puff to his chest, Joel quickly entered the shower with you. When you turned around he said, “old my ass. I'll show you who's old, ya little shit.” Joel then dropped down to his knees and ate you out like a starved man. After he gave you another two orgasms, one of which he heard you screaming his name off the shower walls. He eventually found himself lying next to you, cuddling you in the bed. You were exhausted from all of your extracurricular activities the past two days, and were curled up and ready for a nap. After catching your breath, Joel slowly whispered in your ear, “who's old now darlin’?”

Before you could answer, Joel made his way down back your body and gave you one more Earth shattering orgasm. He wanted to prove a point. That he, in fact, wasn't too damn old.

End Story

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romanarose · 2 months

Text

Scars

Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller x pale!fem!reader (see immersivity warnings)

Join my taglist : Masterlist

Summary: You and Joel are taking things slow, really slow. You find that he's easy to open up to about your depression, but you find it's hard to tell him the full extent.

Warnings: Talk of depression and self harm, self harm scars, descriptions of said scars (healed, not bleeding or recent) piv sex, oral f!recieving. Comfort sex. first time between couple, not loss of virginity.

Immersivity: Reader is fem, no specified age. This is a fic i started last year when i was doing very, very poorly and relapsing. I wanted to write something for myself. I usually really try to make things as inclusive as I can but the descriptions of scars are detailed and they are detailed to my skin, which is pale. I'm sorry, but I wanted to write this for myself. I support people writing fics specific to themselves, their skin tone, their hair type, their wieght etc, as long as it's labled right. @fandxmslxt69 said i could do it and said if anyone has a problem, come to her <3

***************

"And the scars remind us that the past is real" Scars, Papa Roach

Joel hadn’t minded when you said you wanted to take things slow. He didn’t mind one bit. Being a dad of a preteen , albeit an easy one, didn’t leave him with much opportunity to move fast. He was busy. In fact, he hadn’t really intended to date at all, at least until Sarah was in college if that… but you had sparkled your way into his life accidentally, and he was trying his best to balance it all. You were understanding, patient, you didn't get mad if he had to rearrange plans or cancel because something with Sarah or work came up, and he thought things were going well. You were beautiful, fun, and the few times you’d briefly met Sarah, she seemed to like you. That was a necessity. Joel absolutely refuses to date someone that made Sarah unhappy, but Sarah had made a few references to him and dating before he met you anyway, so she seemed okay with it. It wasn’t like he had a relationship with her mom, as much as Joel had tried to foster something… her mom hadn’t been interested.

Tommy was a lifesaver. When he noticed Joel had been struggling, Tommy sat him down and asked to help him. Tommy asked Joel.

“You deserve a life.” Tommy had insisted.

“Sarah is my life.”

“Joel, you deserve m-”

“Don’t say I deserve more, Tommy. Sarah is enough. I don’t need more.”

Tommy sighed. “I know, brother, but can I at least help you out a bit? Give you a little free time to see that pretty girl of yours?”

Tommy had only met you once, but he liked you too. Joel acquiesced, letting Tommy take care of taking her to soccer practices (but he would NOT miss a game). This did end up being a big help and Joel had more and more time to see you… and when Tommy took Sarah out for a movie or she had plans with friends, he found more and more time alone in the evening with you.

Joel didn’t want to take his hands off your body the first time you and him made out on his couch, but when his hand went to feel up your breasts, you noticeably tensed. Fearing he overstepped, Joel quickly pulled back and apologized. Both of you nervous messes, it took a moment before you and Joel got full sentences out.

“Shit, I’m sorry-”

“No no it’s okay!”

“I just thought-”

“And I want too-!”

“No, I didn’t mean for anything tonight-”

“Oh, uh, right-”

“Not that I don’t want to!”

“Me too!”

Eventually, Joel clarified he was just enjoying feeling you, he didn’t want you to feel pressured into anything ‘like that’, and you explained he can touch you like that, you just wanted to wait a little bit… You sat back, nervous, but figured now was as good a time as any.

“Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about, if we could…” You shuffle on the couch.

Joel looks nervous, but open. He wants to know you, good and bad, and if something was bothering you, he wanted to know. “Of course, I’m all ears.”

You take a deep breath. “Do you know what depression is?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, I have an aunt with it but we don’t really talk about it much… Sometimes Sarah’s school sends her home with pamphlets… so I know a little, I guess.” That’s not what he was expecting.

“Well… I have it.”

“Oh.” He says again, dumbly. “I'm sorry. Or… am I not supposed to say that?”

You can’t help laughing a little. He was sweet, and he was trying. “It’s okay, Joel, and thank you. Well, about 6 months ago I started therapy and started taking an antidepressant, and things have been a lot better but… I need you to understand, things can get really dark for me sometimes and… it can be a lot for other people to deal with. I promise, it’s nothing dangerous to others!” You quickly add when you see his confused face. “It’s just, sometimes I’m not myself… and, if that’s not something you can handle, I want you to know that’s okay.”

Joel sat there for a moment, looking at you. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what depression was… but in the South, it wasn’t like they talked about that sort of thing much. Still, he liked you… he liked you a lot, actually, and he wanted to be there to support you. He couldn’t just run away from difficult times, not when he had a preteen. It would mean he wasn’t fit to be there for Sarah…

“I wanna be there for you.” Joel assured you, to your growing smile. “I may not know how to, but I wanna try my best.”

You smile more, and scoot up next to him, in turn Joel lays an arm around you. “Thank you, Joel”

Still, you were nervous… because Joel hasn’t seen you without sleeves… nonetheless without clothes.

In the end, it was almost 4 months before you had sex. Physically, you’d taken things slow, but emotionally you hadn’t at all. You were in love, and you’d both told each other as much. Tommy had given Joel shit for committing to a girlfriend without having sex, but Joel had told Tommy he could talk after he got an actual girlfriend, not hookups. Still, Tommy wanted to provide a good opportunity for Joel to fuck you the way Joel would want to. Sappy and romantic. So, when Sarah’s favorite band Halican Drops was coming to Housten, Tommy offered to pay for them to go and for a hotel.

Joel had tried to protest, saying it was too expensive, saying he wasn’t sure he wanted Sarah that far away, and that he should just come, but Tommy smacked him on the head.

“Dumbass, I’m giving you a night with your girlfriend!”

When Tommy promised not to have a single drop of alcohol, text every hour, not let her stand by any men, call when they leave the venue and get to the hotel ETC, Joel allowed it to happen. Sarah was ECSTATIC, being the first concert she’d ever been to, and although a teeny bopper band wasn’t exactly on Tommy’s dream list, he was excited to be a cool uncle. Also, Joel needed to get laid. He was getting cranky at work.

The night itself was a lot of fun. Joel took you to a nice restaurant, and after you came back to his place and changed into more comfortable clothes, you’d spent the night watching American Idol. Joel was very critical.

As the night progressed, your nerves grew as you knew where the natural progression of the night would take you. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to fuck Joel; you really, really wanted to. And you weren’t nervous about him. You knew Joel would stop if you said stop. What you were nervous about was your body. Joel looked good, but he had a bit of a stomach himself so you didn’t think he’d be worried about your shape or small imperfections… Joel was a gentle soul, kind, loving. Yeah, that wasn’t the worry. The worry had been on your skin.

In the middle of winter, you’d managed to not show much skin around him, with jackets and long sleeves and pants… but it was inevitable. Joel had been a wonderful support to you these 4 months, holding your hand, listening to you when you cried. Slowly you opened up to him about the circumstances that meant you needed extra help, and he was everything you could ask for.

But how would he react to this?

Joel had you laid out on the bed, both of you still dressed and his pajama covered pants grinding into your warm cunt. Joel sure liked to take his time.

“We don’t gotta do noth’n, you know that right?” Joel muttered into your neck, drunk on you but still being respectful like the gentle man he was.

“I know”

He pulled back. “Then why’dya seem so nervous?”

You look up at him, wide eyed and nervous, but you needed this… you needed to tell him the truth. “Joel…”

He got off you, standing up at the edge of the bed. The massive, rock hard erection in his pants couldn’t have been comfortable, but his willingness to stop anyway meant a lot. It was a low bar but it was there.

“We can stop, I’m sorry-”

You sit up on your elbows. “It’s not you, it’s just um… I should tell you something before we start…”

“Okay.” He was few on words, but he looked receptive.

You weren’t sure how to do this, how to open up that conversation… so you decided just to show him. Lights still on, you begin to take off your shirt.

Joel tried to stop you. “Hey, hey, no, let’s talk.”

You smile at him. “We will, Joel, just… let me show you…” After the shirt was off, you slid off your pants and laid on the bed, spread out and close to naked in a bra and underwear.

“Jesus, darl’n…” Joel mumbled, taking in the sight before him.

Scars littered your body.

It wasn’t a few, it was a lot, and the coverage was significant. Joel’s eyes roamed your body, cock softening quickly despite your near-nakedness and took in the expanse of the scaring. Your thighs were the most noticeable, pink slaves across your skin from the hips to mid-thigh. His hand reached out instinctively, but pulled back. You noticed.

Your voice was soft, reassuring. You knew he was confused and curious. “You can touch me, it’s okay.”

He does. Joel’s fingers a feather light across your skin, feeling the way the scars dipped and raised depending on severity. There there cuts, but also burn mark; small circles from cigarettes twisting up the patterns more. It was all over, reaching back to the curve of your ass. His eyes followed the trail up and the cuts became less in intensity and number, but never stopping over your hip bone and to your stomach. These were lighter; less that split open the skin but the silver lines were still raised over the belly fat as his fingers touched you. Your bra-line showed more burns, and he stopped short of the cloth.

You take his hands and guide Joel to reach behind you to unclasp the bra, allowing him to pull it up and reveal your breasts. His eyes water as he sees the scars never stopped, marring your breasts, although not nearly the horrific amount on your thighs.

“I don’t understand…” He mumbles, sadness and distress clear in his eyes. “You did this to yourself?” Joel takes your hand in his, examining the scars making a ring around your wrist. He kissed the inside, eyes threatening to pool over.

You nod. “Yeah…”

His voice cracks. “But… why?”

“Sometimes…” You start, overcome with emotions at the clear pain on his face. He loved you so much, the thought of you in this much pain hurt him as well. “It was all I could do to cope.”

He didn’t seem like he understood, but he wasn’t judging you. He didn’t look at you like a freak like so many others did. He just knew he didn’t want you to feel this way again.

“I havn’t done it in a while.” You give him a smile. “You make things easier. I mean, I’m still… yeah… but you do make things much better.” He did. Having someone who held you, listened to you, helped pick up the pieces… it wasn’t going to cure you, but it was amazing how much support helped with the addition of meds and therapy.

Joel relaxed at that, a relieved and gentle smile on his face. “I’m glad, darl’n…” He held you hand to his face, chapped lips nuzzling against your damaged skin. “”M here to take care of you now, okay? I wanna help.”

“You do.” You assure him, pulling his face down to you again and taking his mouth in yours. “You mean so much to me Joel, you make me so happy…” His body covers yours once more, his warm encasing you as he protectively holds you.

“You’re safe with me.” Joel mutters against your mouth, fingers digging into your soft flesh.

You pull him closer to you, grinding yourself up against him, enticing him again. “Still want you tonight, please? I can’t wait any longer.” It’s had been a long 4 months and fuck, fuck you wanted him, badly.

“Always gonna take care of you, princesa.” Joel grinds his jeans-clothed cock against the soft fabric of your underwear, making you shutter. “Gonna take care of my pretty girl, always.”

And god, did he.

Joel’s mouth was sloppy, wet, hot between your legs. His tongue fucked into your hole, prodding you open and his hips bucking against the bed. Insatiable. Arms locked around your legs, his nose nudged against your clit as it seemed he was trying push himself as strongly against your body as he could, to devour you, to bring you and him the most absolute pleasure he could.

You tug at his hair, soft waves in between your fingers as you draw him closer to you. Warmth pooling in your stomach, you felt that pressure grow with every moan, every vibration, every sluuuuuuuuuurp! of your juices, christ he was incredible. You felt elevated, devoted too and adorned in affection the way you had always wanted to be. He was everything in this moment. Joel’s tongue slid up in a swift swipe, mouth and that pouty lower lip latching onto your clit with his fingers pumped into you.

“JOEL! J-ohhhhhh” Your cry for his name melted into moans as you came on his mouth and fingers, crushing his head between thighs as your legs bent. The power of your orgasm caused you to tense and then melt into the bed. You give a low hum as he kisses your inner thighs. As you come to reality again, you register Joel’s sweet kisses all over your legs. He’s kissing the trail of your scars. Joel kisses over the scars on your right thigh and up the crease at your inner hip.

“What are you doing?” You mutter, never for a moment fully let go of his hair.

“Appreciating every inch of you.”

Joel kissed his way up your torso, over the scars under your tits and over the mounds. Latching onto your nipple, he swirled his tongue around the sensitive skin. You can feel him smile against your skin when your back arches off the bed.

“Fuck, Joel, your fucking mouth…” You whimper, and when his mouth lets go his hands never do. Softly, he touches you in all the scarred, squishy parts of you you were trained for so long to hate.

He kissed you tenderly, gentle hands a contrast to his hungry mouth. That tongue, that goddamn tongue…

When he slides in, your eyes can’t help but roll back; your chest rises up against his broad expanse. He filled you so perfectly, fucking deep inside you and filling you up. You never felt so full. Your heart, your life, your stretched out cunt… every part of you was full and euphoric.

“My sweet, perfect girl…” Joel grunts as he pumps into you, hand braced against the headboard and towering over you. You gazed up at him, the yellow lighting of the ceiling fan created a halo around him. Joel looked positively angelic.

Fitting, as he was your angel.

You were aware how he was perceived in his culésac. Joel was highly respected; kind, hard working if a bit disorganized. A good southern man who raised his brother and daughter well, helped the elderly neighbors, bailed his brother out of pinches and would use his truck to help anyone move. Yeah, people liked Joel. But they wouldn’t call him gentle, like how you feel his hands over your stomach. They wouldn’t call him soft like you felt his stomach against yours. They wouldn’t call him angelic, but that was all you could say as you came on his cock.

They certainly would not call him warm, but that was all you felt as you pulled out and sprayed ropes of cum on your stomach.

You dozed off to sleep as he spread his cum around your scarred skin.

You vaguely register him cleaning you up, tired and content, and wait for him to join you again. His body felt perfect against your, fitting so well against your body like two puzzle pieces so close together. You had mumbled a request to be dressed, just in case Sarah and Tommy came home early, so you were both cuddled up in sweats under a thick blanket.

Everything with Joel felt safe and warm.

"Scars remind us where we've been. They don't have to dictate where we're going" -David Rossi, Criminal Minds.

******************

So, there we are. I'm very frustrated by the new bought of scars that are quite noticable that I have to wait to fade again but I refuse to be ashamed the way I used to. My scars are just scars from my trauma and illness. It's a moral failing of the people who have and continue to harm me, not mine.

Thank you all for reading, this was quite a venerable piece for me but I see a light at te end of the tunnel, and things will be getting better, I know it <3

@fandxmslxt69 @runa-falls @k-ra @ahookedheroespureheart @mikaelak @littlenosoul @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @faretheeoscar @harriedandharassed @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @campingwiththecharmings @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @milly-louise @casa-boiardi @joeldjarin @mrs-oharaxx @pedge-page @readingiskeepingmegoing @survivingandenduring @yorksgirl

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