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notjustjavierpena · 3 months

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Mouthful

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: Made with the help from my loveliest @strang3lov3 with a talk about men conking out after cumming and how Hubby Javier still hasn’t gotten his dick sucked. So to all the girlies who want to give your fictional husband a blowjob, this one is for you.

Summary: Javier is starting to come down with the flu but he just simply won’t lie down to have some rest. You have a trick that never fails.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, husband!javier, domestic life, sickfic, Inés is a menace, Javier is a stubborn man, ❤️ JAVIER HAS A DAD BOD!!!!!!! ❤️, blowjob, deep-throating, mouth-fucking, praise, dirty talk, cum-swallowing,

Word count: 2.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52856839

Mouthful

You hear the clink of plates being lifted out of the dishwasher, the sound of Sebastian crying, stuttering sobs as he is bounced, and Inés going on about something that happened in preschool. Javier is barely listening, replying with half-sentences that seem to make his daughter more frustrated with her father not paying attention and eventually leading to her talking louder.

The idea of what will meet you in the kitchen is enough to make you want to flee to the bedroom, enough to make you want to pretend that you haven’t heard them during an extended nap. However, you could never bring yourself to let Javier go through the hell of late afternoons with children alone.

“Look who’s up,” he says with a desperate smile as you enter the room, twisting his whole body to make his crying son spot his mother. As soon as Sebastian’s eyes gaze upon you, his wails die down and they stop completely the moment you take him from Javier’s arms.

“Mom! Guess what happened today at school,” Inés interrupts just as you are about to say something. She speaks loudly, and you automatically reach up to cover Sebastian’s ear that isn’t pressed into your shoulder.

“Inés, indoor voices,” Javier finally manages to say, reaching up to rub his temples, “Shhh…”

“Sorry,” she makes a face, not completely convinced.

“What happened at school?” You ask but instead of looking at her, you find yourself staring at your husband who looks like absolute hell, glassy eyes and exhaustion radiating from him. Inés giggles as she tells a joke that isn’t really a joke, too lost in her story to notice that you aren’t really listening.

Javier places a hand on the kitchen table, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. His shirt is crumpled, his eyes have dark circles and you don’t actually think that he has even noticed that he is sniffling every other moment. He sighs deeply, breathing mostly through his mouth as he does it, and then goes back to emptying the dishwasher.

“Are you okay, honey?” You ask him, stopping midway to shush Inés who doesn’t look pleased, “You look under the weather. Are you feeling okay?”

There’s an almost offended nature in Javier’s reply. He doesn’t stop what he is doing, sorting through the cutlery, “What? No, yeah. Estoy bien, mi amor (I’m fine, my love). Just need to get this done.”

“And then what?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“And then I’ll get started on dinner,” he tells you with a tired smile that isn’t very convincing.

“You look like… m i e r d a (shit), and you probably feel it too. I was sick last week,” you spell out the dirty word, using the Spanish word because the English is short enough to make Inés guess what you are saying.

“Mom,” Inés predictably complains.

“I’m fine. I just need 20 minutes where no one comes near me,” he says with exasperation. He finishes up the bottom drawer of the dishwasher and goes to pull out the top one. You find yourself laying a hand on top of his, stopping him in his tracks.

“Javi,” you say softly.

“What?” He grumbles.

“I can finish up here. I’ll cook dinner,” you tread lightly, knowing that he hates being babied by you. Him not pulling his weight is a common fight that the two of you have had, and he probably feels on edge when you ask him not to help out with the kids.

“I can do it,” he snaps but suddenly sneezes, and it ends up making his nose prickle enough to cause his eyes to water.

“Go do something else, laundry maybe. I’ll do this,” you say a little more firmly, strategically sending him to your bedroom to make him spot your bed and have some well-earned rest, “It’s really not a problem, and you know I hate doing laundry anyway.”

“Fine,” he holds his hands up in surrender.

“I love you,” you say in a sing-song voice as he leaves the kitchen, “Go have your 20 minutes.”

Inés looks longingly after her father but you manage to distract her with a snack before she runs after him. You run your free hand over her hair as she eats a peanut butter sandwich, Sebastian cooing happily on your hip as he has been allowed to chew on a banana.

“Do you want to watch cartoons before dinner?” You ask, “Give Mommy some time to get things done in the kitchen, and then I can hear all about school while we eat?”

“Fine,” she parrots her dad, holding up her hands as well and running off to the living room. You follow her, setting Sebastian down in his playpen and turning on the baby monitor. Then you turn on the TV, adjust the volume, and let Inés busy herself by singing along to her favorite theme song.

You finish emptying the dishwasher, cut vegetables, and throw them into the slow cooker with other ingredients, and after you check on both of your kids, you realize there’s some spare time before you have to pick Lucas up from his play date.

You decide to go upstairs to do another round of laundry, but when you cannot find the laundry basket, you go to your bedroom. Javier must have taken it when folding clothes.

“Jesus, why are you not resting? I sent you here so you’d eventually nap,” you groan as you enter the bedroom and see Javier putting his shirts on hangers.

“I told you I’m fine,” he seems even more sick at this point, nose slightly congested and causing him to speak nasally, “I can do this.”

You walk up to him to yank a clothing hanger out of his hands and throw it onto the floor, receiving a glare in response. Javier doesn’t look pleased with your behavior, but you don’t find his stubborn attitude charming either.

“Javier F. Peña,” you tut, “Just go lie down and trust that your wife has everything under control. It’s what a lot of husbands do, you know.”

“Well, wife, I don’t need your permission to do housework,” he tries to push past you but you catch him in a disarming embrace, giggling as he tries bending down to pick you up so he can move you out of his way. You avoid his efforts, catching him by the wrists when he straightens once more, and push him back towards the bed.

“You need rest, husband,” you shove him when the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he lets himself fall down into the mattress, bouncing slightly as it connects with his back.

“I don’t need a nap, I’m not a child,” he groans dramatically.

“Then stop acting like one,” you pull the baby monitor out of your pocket and place it on the nightstand. When Javier tries to sit up again, you snap your fingers and point at him, “Nuh-uh, lie down.”

It makes you realize that you need to use alternative methods to get him to obey; he simply won’t do as he has been told, and if anyone is ever in doubt about where Inés gets her stubbornness from, you’ll simply glance over at her father to answer the question.

“What if I treat you to something special?” You ask with a little smirk, moving to the end of the bed so you can proceed to crawl onto him. You sit on his legs, “Think that’ll make you relax?”

You already know the answer to that question. He looks ready to conk out.

“I’m actually fine, I don’t need—“

“I know, Javi,” you reply. Your fingers find his crumpled shirt and you pull it out of his jeans, shoving it up over his stomach so you can access his belt, watching your husband twitch underneath you at the sound of the buckle clinking as you undo it.

He lifts his head to watch as you tug down his jeans and underwear, “Just so you know, I’m not sleeping after this. I have to—“

“I know, Javi,” you repeat, bending down to nuzzle your nose against his soft stomach. His cock lays flaccid against his thigh, but you pull it out from underneath the waistband of his briefs to lay it against his tummy so you can skim your palm up and down the shaft. His soft cock slowly comes alive underneath your touch, and soon you can wrap your fist around him to stroke him till he stands completely erect.

Below you, Javier groans when you press a kiss to his belly, “And I have to get the laundry done.”

“Whatever you say, baby, let me take care of you and I’ll let you do as much laundry as you want,” you hum against his skin, relishing in his warmth and his so-called dad-body - the last year has blessed you with Javier getting a little softer to the touch - that you nuzzle up to at every opportunity you get.

Javier isn’t a fan of himself growing soft around the middle but you savor it every time you get to see that bit of pudge strain against his usual jeans (which he refuses to buy in a bigger size). If you thought he was gorgeous when his muscles were toned and his body looked younger, you had not been prepared for how good he looks now that he is older, rounder, and getting comfortable. His arms are still deliciously strong; an overwhelmingly sexy result of still carrying Inés around everywhere, picking her up from the ground if she has a tantrum at the grocery store.

“God, you’re so sexy,” you pinch his stomach to earn a little noise. Javier says your name in disapproval but you just look up at him with a smile, grabbing more of his pudge before biting into it and kissing it afterward, “Let your wife have her fun.”

Javier is just about to say something - you don’t know whether it is about his body, the lack of a blowjob, or laundry once more - but you know it’s more complaining and so you cut him off by running the flat of your tongue from base to tip of his cock. He tastes like salt. If you had the time, you would not finish until his scent and taste were everywhere on you. In your clothes, etched into your skin, and on your tongue.

“Oh shi—“ he gasps, resting the back of his head on the mattress once more. He breathes deeply in through his mouth, nose still stuffed, and stares at the ceiling as you work your tongue up and down his shaft only to follow the wet trail with your nose.

When you reach his cockhead a third time, you suckle on the very tip to rid him of the pearl of precome that has accumulated at the slit and is threatening to slide down (you want to treat yourself to it before it does). Above you, Javier moans at feeling your mouth, not your tongue, properly for the first time.

“Fucking hell, baby, gotta admit that I didn’t see this coming,” he half-chuckles, half-groans.

“Maybe I just wanted to shut you up for a moment. You are stubborn, you know,” you pull back to talk, look up at him, and nuzzle needily at his cock. He looks down at you but you simply smile, “I looove you for that though, not annoying at all.”

You follow your little snarky remark up with a press of your lips to the underside of his shaft, using a hot open-mouthed kiss to cut off whatever offense he might take from your teasing. He doesn’t even seem to register it after feeling your mouth on himself again.

Then you let saliva gather in your mouth before spitting directly onto the head, using your hand to smear it down his length by stroking him a few times. You lean over him and bring your mouth down over his girth, no teasing or anything, until the thick head hits the back of your mouth.

“Fuuuck, and then up again,” he groans, a strong hand reaching for whatever he can grab of you. His fingers curl around your shoulder, moving inwards until they dig into the back of your neck. Slowly, you drag your lips all the way off of him again.

Javier makes a sound when you pull off but it quickly turns into a whimper as you let more saliva drip down. You smear this too, swirling your sinful tongue around the tip and occasionally licking like were you eating a popsicle on a summer’s day.

You can feel him pulse against your lips, so you show mercy and let him into your mouth again. He is hot and heavy on your tongue and a moaning mess above you, nails starting to dig into your skin.

You start bobbing your head, hand on the base of Javier’s cock to hold his generous size in place. When he bumps against your throat for the first time and thus makes you gag the first time, he lets out a sound that you can never get enough of and it causes your cunt to throb between your legs.

“Who would think that a pretty girl sucks cock like that? Oh, fuck… I love you, just like that—” he talks in a way that makes you think he might not even be aware of what he is saying but is simply letting his mouth run, “Suck that cock, baby. Good fucking girl, married the right one, didn’t I?”

You hum in reply and he growls at the vibrations of your voice. The pride you feel is indescribable, and so you seek out his approval once again by moaning as you taste him. Even if it results in your eyelashes dampening from Javier pushing his hips upwards, you lean further down and force yourself to relax your throat.

He slides into the tight space at the back of your throat and his hand flies to the top of your head. He fists your hair desperately when you gulp around him and make your throat spasm, tugging at your follicles to the point where tears slide down your face. Soon, they also mix with the spit coating his cock.

You swallow around him again. Javier holds your head with both hands now, “Can I - Christ - can I fuck this gorgeous mouth? Por favor (please), baby.”

Even if it is hurting a little, you nod the best you can because Javier’s groan as he starts thrusting his hips upward is worth any ache in your body. Your thighs flutter, your clit pulses.

Both his hands gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He uses it to move your head as he pleases, makes you bob on his dick until you gag wetly with every other thrust of his hips. Every time he bucks his hips, his thigh muscles flex and your nose buries itself in his happy trail.

“You gonna take it?” He rasps, chest heaving. He is nearly there, muscles in his whole body twitching as he slowly loses control over himself when pleasure is so close. The next thrusts are maddening and you can’t blink any tears away even if you tried, “Fuck, swallow, baby. Take my come.”

You look up at him through your wet lashes and hum a mhm, confirming. Yes, yes, yes, give it to me.

You know he is peaking when his breath stops. He holds it during the last thrusts, finally letting out a loud moan as he finishes and sucks in a deep breath afterward.

His cock spurts in the next moment. You can feel it hit the back of your sore throat, warm and salty, in several pulses and automatically, you swallow hungrily around his girth. The action makes him groan weakly and his hips stutter until he finally needs to let go of you. His arms lie flat along his side.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he sighs contentedly when you pull off, “Fuck, I don’t even know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, Daddy,” you tease, and then you treat the sensitive head of his cock to a few innocent kitten-licks, essentially cleaning him up until he softens.

He whimpers when it becomes too much, and so you pull off to kiss him along his stomach. You can hear his breathing changing, turning into something less erratic.

“You okay?” You eventually ask but receive no reply. You look up.

As predicted, Javier snores. You smile to yourself as you push yourself away from him, careful not to wake him up as you pull his briefs and jeans up again, leaving the latter unbuttoned.

“Javier Peña, the most stubborn man on the planet has a weakness,” you whisper and shake your head with a fond smile.

You grab the baby monitor from the nightstand and leave him to sleep, knowing he’ll wake up feeling a lot more sick and, hopefully, a lot more cooperative. You bring him a glass of water and some Tylenol to wake up to, write a note for him about how much you adore him, and that you’ll take care of everything. He needs it.

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barbiedragon · 3 months

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Soulager la douleur

(To ease the pain)

Saltburn: Oliver Quick x fem!reader

Rating: E (minors DNI)

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: age gap (reader is 20 and Oliver is in his late thirties), daddy kink, spanking, phone sex, mutual masturbation, oral (m receiving), d/s dynamics, praise kink, mention of a butt plug, cum eating (I got carried away with this one)

*comments/reblogs are appreciated

Your parents had died three years ago, leaving you as heir to their estate, Wrest Manor, and presumptive CEO of Wyndham-Wrest Hotels once you completed your education and turned thirty. Until then, your Uncle would oversee the company and provide you with needed funds. You had been in your second year at Oxford, focusing on a business degree, when you received news of their death. You felt as if caught in a bad movie as the message relayed that their car had skidded off the road during their holiday in the French Alps. You felt bogged down by their unexpected and sudden death, falling into a downward spiral and reveling in the pain. That’s when Oliver Quick came into your life.

He was an Oxonian, having graduated over a decade ago from the current university you were attending. Leniency had been shown to you, given the devastating circumstances (not to mention being a legacy and your family providing numerous donations over the years). Still, you were on the verge of being kicked out if you missed more lectures or tutorials. You were at a crossroads, teetering on the edge and ready to jump. That’s when your school counselor placed the embossed business card into your hand.

Oliver Quick. You traced your thumb over the black letters. What a stupid bloody name. He was probably a right prat. Though, what did you have to lose?

“I do think he might be able to help. He proved gifted in business administration and went on to practice company law. He might help prepare you for your duties as CEO once you’re of age,” she explained.

Oliver hadn’t been what you expected. You imagined a stuffy solicitor who would talk down to you, amid a midlife crisis stuffed in a cheap, poorly tailored suit he tried to pass off as a posh label. Your jaw nearly dropped when his assistant showed you into his modest office, and you were greeted by the loveliest, clearest blue eyes you had ever seen. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you decided he was also rather handsome. Perhaps not conventionally attractive, but you found yourself fancying him, and the black Dior suit he wore was tailored impeccably for his frame.

You spent numerous afternoons in his office reviewing the company’s mission statement, strategy and direction, and operating procedures. It was clear it would be a daunting task, and you wondered if perhaps your Uncle should stay in his current position. He didn’t have any issue sending you a cheque every month. It seemed overwhelming, even though you put effort into it, finding yourself wanting to impress Oliver and yearning for his approval.

“You’re awfully quiet this afternoon. Everything alright?” Oliver asked.

You glanced up from the binder balanced in your lap, having spent ten minutes re-reading the same sentence as you picked at the skin around your thumb. You hadn’t noticed the tiny ruby drops that clung to the white paper. It was a bad habit you turned to for a coping mechanism. The little pricks of pain always brought you back to reality.

“Sorry, guess I’m in my own little world today,” you murmured, feeling your cheeks turn warm.

Oliver removed his glasses before walking over to you.

Heat pulsated through your body when he took hold of your chin, tilting your gaze up at him. He wore a gentle smile, yet something darker lurked in his eyes.

“Perhaps a break is in order. You’ve been working at this for days,” he stated,

“You might be right.”

“Good girl, I’ll ring up your driver,” he smiled, and those words echoed in your head, sending a familiar pulsing sensation between your legs: good girl, good girl, good girl.

“I can just send him a text,” you murmured, hands shaking as you took hold of your mobile.

“Better let me, darling.” Oliver took the phone from your hands, and you were flooded with the urge to drop to your knees before him. Suddenly, you wanted him to handle your entire life. Let him take the reigns and make all the decisions. You weren’t ready to grow up yet and assume all these responsibilities. While you had been gifted in academia, easily achieving the A levels needed to secure your spot at Oxford, you wondered if you had the strong will to run a company.

“Thank you, Oliver.”

“My pleasure, darling. Anything you need, remember I’m here for you,” he smiled, handing you back your phone.

A few moments later, Oliver ensured you were safely tucked away in the back of a sleek, black town car. “No more picking at those nails, love,” he admonished gently, giving your knuckles a soft rap before sending you on your way. Wrest Manor felt woefully lonely as you settled in for the night. The creaks and groans of the house kept you awake so you scrolled through your phone to keep you occupied. You tapped on your notes app, a jolt of surprise rushing through you when you read what appeared on the screen.

Call me x Ollie

A number was listed next to his sign-off, so you punched it in as your fingers shook. It didn’t matter that it was almost one in the morning. You needed to hear his voice.

“Hello, darling.”

“H…how did you know it was me?” you squeaked.

“Already had you programmed in, didn’t I?”

“Oh, yeah, I suppose that makes sense.”

“Having trouble sleeping?”

“Yes,” you admitted, rolling onto your side as you used your pillow to help support the phone.

“Would you like me to help you relax, love?”

“Please,” you whispered.

“Will you be a good girl and do everything I say?”

“Yes, Ollie,” you promised and heard a soft tsk on the other end.

“I’m not sure if you calling me Ollie is fitting in this situation. Perhaps we should try a different title, what do you think?”

“What would you like me to call you?”

“The better question is, what would you like to call me?” he questioned.

A pause hung heavy in the air before you finally spoke. “Daddy,” you whispered.

“A bit louder for me, love, can’t quite make out what you’re saying.

Embarrassment turned your cheeks blazing hot. “Daddy,” you stated louder, unsure why you were worried about someone overhearing you. The staff were housed in the other wing of the manor.

“Sounds beautiful when you say it, darling. Now will you be a good girl and do everything daddy tells you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Tell daddy what you’re wearing, spare no detail.”

Suddenly, you wished you lounged around or slept in some scandalous, skimpy lingerie set, but sadly, that was not the case. Instead, you described to Oliver the soft pink ribbed top with matching shorts that you were wearing. You could feel the damp patch beginning to form.

“Aren’t you precious? I want you to put me on speaker and slowly remove your shorts.”

You did as instructed, bared from the waist down as your toes curled against the sheets. Nipples straining against the soft fabric of your shirt.

“Tease yourself for me, love. Make yourself nice and wet for daddy.”

You shuddered as you stroked your slick folds, revealing in the wetness as you heard the sound of a zipper followed by the wet pump of flesh.

“Now I want you to stuff your pretty cunt full of as many fingers as you can stand and pretend it’s daddy’s cock,” he groaned.

“I can take three, daddy,” you mewled, slowly inserting them and stretching yourself wide.

“Such a good girl. Now fuck yourself with them, but you can’t come until I say,” Oliver grunted.

You did just that, plunging them in and out, thrashing your legs in the sheets as you brought yourself to the brink of pleasure. It was sloppy and uncouth, behaving like a greedy slut who hadn’t been touched in a long time, making a mess in your bed as you pretended Oliver’s cock was splitting you wide open. You imagined him holding you down as he pounded you, making sure you felt every inch of him. Your wanton moans filled your silent room as you spilled across your fingers. You heard Oliver moan, the smacking sound faster until you heard the stifled panting.

“Naughty girl, I didn’t tell you that you could come,” he growled.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you whined, too blissed out to honestly care.

“You’ll come to my office at half past ten tomorrow. I’ll deal with you then.”

“Yes, daddy.” The anticipation made your nerve endings stand on edge.

“Very well, darling, now get some sleep.”

The line went dead, and you were surprised at how well-rested you felt in the morning. Oliver had sent you specific instructions on what to wear. You stood before his desk, toying with the hem of the short pleated skirt, your legs encased in white knee socks. The pale blue cashmere sweater was soft against your skin. Oliver’s fingers were folded in a point beneath his nose, a stern look on his face.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?’ he asked, lowering his hands and tapping his fingers against the desk.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you, daddy,” you offered demurely, though the truth was you weren’t sorry at all.

Your belly clenched as Oliver draped you across his thighs, pink silk knickers in a tangle by your ankles as your skirt was flipped up. His warm palm caressed your bare skin before descending roughly onto your bare skin. A sharp pain flooded through you. Tears pooled in your eyes as the searing sensation settled in, an uncomfortable burn that seemed to cover your entire backside with each crack of his palm. Your watery eyes focused on the pale gray carpet as you attempted to squeeze your thighs together to conceal the arousal pooling between them. Oliver said nothing as he slipped two fingers inside your dripping cunt, the sharp, unexpected thrust causing you to gasp.

“Such a naughty girl,” he scolded, finding a steady rhythm with his fingers.

You whined as tears dribbled down your cheeks, but you didn’t want him to stop. The sweet mix of pain and pleasure drove you over the edge until you came from the steady thrust of his fingers. You heaved softly, remaining over his lap, while you soaked his fingers.

“Are you going to behave for me now, love?” Oliver cooed, stroking the small of your back.

“Yes, daddy,” you purred.

He had you straddle his lap, his hand moving in soothing circles along your back. You noticed his glasses were slightly fogged, so you gently removed them, polishing them clean with the hem of your sweater. His forehead pressed against yours as he held you close. You felt more alive than you had in a long time. Oliver helped awaken a spark hidden deep inside you.

The minute you entered the door and your heels clicked on the marble floor, a boisterous yell greeted you.

“Mummy!”

You soon had an armful of your three-year-old son. “Hello, Felix,” you smiled, nuzzling the top of his dark head. You hadn’t been too keen on the name, but Oliver had insisted, and whenever he would stroke your bump and whisper the name, you gave in a little bit every time.

Felix babbled away about his day in the gardens, swimming in the pond, and helping Oliver organize his files. Your gaze settled on Oliver as you rubbed the small boy’s back. Oliver’s lips brushed across your cheek in a gentle greeting. A faint hint of cigarette smoke hit your nose, a habit picked up from his university days that he tried to conceal from you.

“How was your day?” he asked, one hand settling on the soft curve of your hip.

“Long. I’m knackered,” you admitted, shifting Felix in your arms.

“I’ll take care of you later,” Oliver whispered, sending a shiver through you. He always knew exactly what you needed.

You had a lovely supper with your boys, thankful that Felix went down easily for bedtime and to finally slip off your Dior heels. Oliver helped peel away your business suit, the expensive fabric pooling onto the floor until you were left in black silk clinging to your curves. His hand dipped into your knickers, fingers slowly dragging across your folds before giving your clit a few teasing rubs.

“Tell me what you need,” he instructed, but his touch made you too mesmerized to answer. His movements stopped, hands gliding up your back to remove your bra. A sharp pinch to your nipple brought you back to reality. “Tell daddy what you need.”

You gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry, daddy. I want to be stuffed full tonight with you in my mouth.”

“There’s my good girl,” he praised, tracing your lower lip with his thumb.

The carpet was soft under your knees; a red plug was buried in your ass, arousal leaking from you. Oliver’s leather belt looped around your wrists, securing them behind your back as the fat head of his cock slapped against your mouth. You savored the beaded pre-cum before parting your mouth to draw him in, swirling your tongue around his shaft. He didn’t hold back, thrusting steadily into your mouth and making your eyes water. You felt his vein pulse against your tongue, his fingers gripping tightly at your hair before spilling down your throat. You swallowed every drop.

You could feel the rugburn on your back as Oliver placed you on your back and fucked you right there on the floor. A delicious bite of pain. After he came, he bent your knees toward your chest before lowering his head to lap your cunt, brimming with his cum.. He always enjoyed the taste of you mixed with him. A relaxing bath later and the stressful day completely melted away. You snuggled close in his arms, tucking your head beneath his chin as his hand spanned across your lower back. His grounding touch made you feel safe, slowly lulling you to sleep. Oliver had given you everything you had dreamed of.

#fae's writings #oliver quick #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick smut #oliver quick fanfic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn smut #Oliver Quick x fem!reader #oliver quick imagine #saltburn imagine

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jobean12-blog · 11 months

Text

Neighborly Love

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,446

Summary: Bucky is your new neighhor and tension has been building since he moved in so when the water in his apartment stops working he comes to you first.

Author’s Note: So my dear love @mickeyhenrys made this edit for me and it sparked an idea because omg it’s glorious and Bucky in glasses is just 🔥🔥🔥and it all happened while we were thirsting over the recent pics of Seb and his MAN BUN! YUM! Thank you so much love and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you darling Daisy🥰

Warnings: Fun, flirty, some fluff, some tension, the doorbell is a pain in the butt, i-mpl-ie-d s-e-x-y time

The below edit is NOT MINE: credit goes to @mickeyhenrys thank you again my lovely

I’m also including the pic of Seb and his beefy bun below the cut because YES

After a long debate with yourself over whether or not you want to walk to the bathroom in just your tee shirt and panties you decide to make a run for it so you can wash up and change all at once.

With that decision, you open your bedroom door and step into the hall, about to walk to the bathroom when it’s door opens.

Bucky freezes in the doorway when he sees you, his eyes running down the length of your body.

“Mornin’ doll,” he says before clearing his throat. “Sleep ok?”

His long hair is curled around his ears, still wet and sending droplets of water dripping onto his bare shoulders that converge into a glistening trail down his naked chest, zigzagging through his sculpted abdominals before disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

Jeans that hang low enough to reveal the defined V-cut of his hips.

He raises his arm, towel in hand, and starts to dry his hair, drawing your eyes to his flexing bicep.

“UGH!”

You push him out of the way and slam the bathroom door behind you.

“Guess that’s a no,” he mutters before walking back into the living room.

Once you’re washed up and you’ve used the bathroom you stomp back out, having forgotten all about changing.

You walk over to him and shove his glasses at his chest, hard. “You forgot these in the bathroom.”

“Doll?” Bucky asks in confusion.

“You’re over here, using my shower, walking around like that,” you mutter as you clang angrily around the kitchen.

“Did I miss something?” he asks from the doorway.

“Put a shirt on Bucky,” you snap, keeping your back to him.

“Only if you put on some shorts and a bra doll face,” he replies with a chuckle.

You suddenly go still, remembering you’re only wearing your panties under your oversized tee. Whirling around with the intention to slip past him, you glower but when you reach the doorway he blocks your path, maneuvering you against the wall.

He raises an arm above your head and leans in, the clean scent of your shampoo in his hair. Your eyes travel over his skin appreciatively and when you meet his gaze you find him staring down at your legs. Your thighs rub together instinctively and he lets out a grunt filled with desire.

You try to unjumble your thoughts, the tiny rational part of your brain yelling at you to run.

But everything else is too loud.

“Bucky?” you breathe out and your eyes fall to his mouth.

He lifts his other hand and gently brushes his thumb along the curve of your jaw, in the process bringing your face closer to his. Goose bumps erupt across your skin at the scrape of his calluses and your mind fills with thoughts of how those hands would feel on the rest of your body.

You breathe out his name once more as his head dips, his lips just brushing along yours when the doorbell rings.

With a muttered curse, he retreats, his eyes filled with the promise that this isn’t over.

“I’ll get it,” you squeak.

He catches you by the arm to stop you.

“I’ll get it doll face,” he rumbles, letting his eyes sweep down your body. “No way I’m lettin’ anyone else see you like this.”

You nod with wide eyes and hurry back to your bedroom, quickly glancing back to watch as he lifts his shirt over his head and shoves his glasses onto his face.

“Who was it?” you ask when you return, now dressed in leggings and a new shirt.

“The landlord,” he answers. “My water should be fixed by five.”

“Ok, great,” you say with far too much cheer. “Coffee?”

“Sure, thanks doll,” he says as he takes the hair tie from his wrist and secures his hair at the base of his neck in a small bun.

You stare for a moment too long before looking away and trying to focus on making the coffee.

A few minutes later you walk into your small living room, mugs in hand and sit next to him on the couch. You place the steaming coffee down on the small table and snuggle into his side.

“Thanks again,” he says.

“For what?”

“For letting me crash here and take a shower.”

“Of course,” you tell him. “I’m just glad one of us has working water to use. It seems like everything goes wrong all at once in this building.”

Your gazes hold for a second before he reaches for his coffee. When he sits back you lean into him again.

“There’s a whole lotta couch ya know doll,” he teases.

“You’re warm and you smell nice,” you pout even as you push yourself away from him.

He goes to reach for you so he can tuck you back against him but unfortunately during all the shifting you manage to spill a spot of your coffee on his shirt.

“OH MY GOD,” you screech as you plop your coffee back on the table, spilling more, before you grab his shirt and pull it away from his body. “I’m sorry! Are you ok?”

He carefully places his coffee mug down and gives you a lopsided smirk.

“Pretty sure that was my fault,” he says sheepishly. “And I’m fine doll. Don’t worry.”

Your fingers slip higher and you lift the wet fabric, searching his skin for any redness.

His stomach muscles flex under your touch.

“Are you sure?” you whisper, finally dragging your eyes away from his skin.

“I’m sure,” he replies, his voice gruff.

Suddenly, the air feels too thick and the feel of him under your fingers, the heat from his body and the way his eyes shine with desire makes it hard to breathe.

You lick your lips, needing to kiss him.

His head dips to yours as you move upward and then his mouth is on you, frantic and hungry.

Strong arms circle around you, his hands splayed over your back as he pulls you closer until you’re straddling him.

You roll your hips against him, feeling how much he wants you. Your hands dance along his chest and reach behind his head to tug his hair free of the tie, letting it spill out around his face before you slide your fingers through the silky strands. His glasses go askew and he pulls away just fast enough to rip them off and drop them on the couch.

His large hands smooth down to your waist to grip your hips and you feel the pressure of him holding you down as you grind over him again and again. Tightening his hold, he lifts his hips, increasing the pressure.

With every roll of your hips you grow needier and his grip turns bruising.

“I need to come Bucky,” you murmur against his lips.

He growls your name, and then kisses you again, keeping your hips in constant motion over the hardness between his legs.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his cheeks flushed.

“Please,” you whine, your fingernails digging into his skin. “I need you. I need you inside m…”

Ding Dong

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” he growls.

You’re still seated in his lap, your heavy breathing the only sound when the bell buzzes again.

“Don’t move,” he commands as he gently lifts you up.

He adjusts himself in his jeans and grabs his glasses, pushing them up and over his nose. With one last longing glance he starts to walk toward the door.

“Bucky wait!” you call quietly.

He stops and looks back as you hop off the couch and go to him. You press your body along his and reach up to fix his hair and adjust his glasses.

“There…,” you say. “Your hair was a bit mussed and your glasses were crooked.”

“Thanks,” he says with a grin then grabs you around the waist, presses you so close that feel every inch of him and kisses you until you’re breathless.

Third buzz of the bell.

He stomps away and opens the door with too much force, making you giggle. Then you hear him saying a lot of “uh huh, ok, that’s fine, yeah, yeah,” and then the door slams shut and the lock clicks.

“Was that the landlord again?” you ask as he stalks toward you.

He nods but doesn’t elaborate and when you open your mouth to ask more questions he presses a long finger against your lips.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Now…”

He starts walking you backward toward the couch and sits, pulling you down over his lap.

“Where were we?” he murmurs with a whisper of his lips along yours.

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @lookiamtrying @goldylions @sstan-hoe @late-to-the-party-81 @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @randomfandompenguin @seitmai @littleseasiren

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #beefy!bucky x reader #beefy!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #neighbor!bucky #neighbor au #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan

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sunflowerkiwis · 8 months

Text

Sparks Fly

daniel ricciardo x reader, platonic!lando norris x reader

not much of a plot

feedback is appreciated + requests are open

enjoy xx

yourinstagram

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, and 2,764,856 others

yourinstagram i see sparks fly whenever you smile💜

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user01 the way he looks at her🥲

taylorswift real

landonorris real

pierregasly real

georgerussell63 real

yourinstagram ariana what are you doing here??

user03 i think yn’s was the realest😭💀

user05 they called all of us single in swiftie and a hundred other languages

user07 find you someone who looks at you the way daniel looks at yn

liked by yourinstagram

danielricciardo who’s that handsome lad?

yourinstagram just some random bloke i found on the street

danielricciardo is he single?

yourinstagram im afraid not

danielricciardo his girlfriend doesn’t have to know 👀

yourinstagram i can’t stand you sometimes

danielricciardo you love me

yourinstagram i know

landonorris 🤢

danielricciardo 🙄🙄

liked by yourinstagram

danielricciardo

liked by georgerussell63, redbullracing, and 2,645,893 others

danielricciardo i’m captivated by you like a fireworks show

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user23 me too, daniel. me too.

charles_leclerc please tell yn to stop climbing on things she should not be climbing

danielricciardo i try my best

oscarpiastri pretty sure she thinks she’s a cat

yourinstagram i’ll never stop🥰

yourinstagram meow meow mf

yourinstagram damn

yourinstagram lucky lady

danielricciardo she sure is 😉

landonorris side eye

yourinstagram why are you always here omg

landonorris it’s a public post

yourinstagram shut up

landonorris simp

liked by yourinstagram

yourinstagram love u💜

liked by danielricciardo

danielricciardo love you more❤️

liked by yourinstagram

user11 why can’t i get a bf like this😀

yourinstagram don’t worry, you’ll get there bby🫶

user11 excuse me while i go pass out

user29 guess who’s sleeping on the highway🤪🤗

user15 are we not gonna talk about yn attending almost every race and always being there to support daniel🥹🥲😭

liked by yourinstagram, danielricciardo, and georgerussell63

yourinstagram added a photo to their story!

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yourinstagram DANIEL

danielricciardo WHAT

yourinstagram THERE ARE CHILDREN ON THIS APP

danielricciardo AND HOW DO YOU THINK THEY WERE MADE???

yourinstagram D A N I E L

landonorris

liked by mclaren, yourinstagram, and 1,763,481 others

landonorris she made me post this saying that i love her and i’m happy for her relationship and she’s my best friend

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yourinstagram i did no such things

yourinstagram all i see is lies

mclaren we’re telling oscar

danielricciardo careful, i heard she has a really good looking, tattooed boyfriend

yourinstagram maybe i do ;)

landonorris careful, i heard the guy who posted this has never wanted to block anyone more than you two

yourinstagram feel free to leave

landonorris it’s my post??

yourinstagram my face got you likes

charles_leclerc we can’t see your face…

yourinstagram my boobs got you like’s

landonorris oml🤦‍♂️

user09 MOTHER????

yourinstagram YES MY DEAR?????

user21 yn leave ur bf, i can drive in vroom vroom circles too😩

liked by yourinstagram

yourinstagram watch out dani👀

yourinstagram

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yourinstagram lover <3

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danielricciardo hot

user37 she has him wrapped around her finger

danielricciardo i was talking about me, but she’s pretty too ig

yourinstagram say hi to the couch for me today

scuderiaferrari our favorite summer couple🔥😍

charles_leclerc wow.

carlossainz wow.

sebastianvettel wow.

yourinstagram oh to be a thigh tattoo…

user13 i think yn commenting on her own post about her boyfriend to praise him is the most yn thing she has done

user07 is she wrong tho-

landonorris yes.

maxverstappen1 i finally understand what lando’s always going on about

yourusername thanks for taking our pictures 😘

maxverstappen1 let each other breathe for just a second

user31 max💀

danielricciardo i’d marry you with paper rings

yourinstagram YES

yourinstagram PLEASE

user17 OMG ITS FINALLY HALLENING

yourinstagram JUST GIVE ME A DATE AND TIME

taylorswift what about me

yourusername actually… bye @danielricciardo, my wife’s calling😘

user61 stop, whAT IS HAPPENING

yourusername @user61 im marrying the love of my life @/taylorswift

user53 she’s so real

danielricciardo

danielricciardo mine <3

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#daniel ricciardo #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 grid x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #daniel ricciardo x y/n #daniel ricciardo x reader #hornyonthemainitis

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ghostingssdeadlinee · 8 months

Text

SFW ALPHABET - SAM WINCHESTER

Warnings: cursing, made some nsft jokes.

AN: he’s so girlfriend <3333

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s not very big on PDA, like hand holding and small kisses anywhere is great. But if you wanna make out just tug on his arm, go to a reserved era, and start kissing, could never say no too that.

In private tho, very much on quality time and physical touch, like sit on his lap while he’s researching and your read a book, or let him lay on your lap while he researches and you play with his hair, he’ll die.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Very caring, if you like something special he definitely looks it up so you two can talk about it.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Love it, mostly for sleeping. (Keeps the nightmares away)

I mean man’s massive so of course he’s going to be big spoon. But him laying on your chest/in the crevice of your neck, you talking about something you like or just your day, and you (again) playing with his hair. Melts.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Oh god, of course he wants to settle. Can’t because he constantly has to fight god and Lucifer and just every evil thing ever. But he’d want to more then anything.

Can’t really cook, I mean he knows some of the basics. He had to make food for him and dean once in a while.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

No :3 (didn’t feel like writing this sorrrryyy :333)

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

With everything happening, with the apocalypse, it kind of slipped his mind. But once he remember? Oh hell yeah.

Probably like 2-4 years into the relationship.

(Wears the ring on a necklace around his neck)

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Don’t get me wrong he’s a big boy and he can be violent, like I’m fighting or in *other* ways, but he’s so gentle with his partner.

Emotionally, can take a while to open up, but sometimes, late at night on especially after hunting nights, you’ll be awake, you on his lap, looking at his beautiful eyes and wiping his tears away as he talks about his past and current pain.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Love them.

After killing some monster, a long and tired yet tight hug.

Hello hugs, goodbye hugs. ‘I love you’ hugs. ‘Don’t worry I’ll come back’ hugs.

Hugs from behind, head onto of yours.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Honestly depends, but probably after you nearly died in a hunt.

“Sammy, I’m alright, I’ll probably get some scars but I’m okey.”

“… okey, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He knows you’ll shot it down the second someone tried to flirt with you. You’re loyal and he knows that.

But sometimes… a guy flirting a little bit to aggressively and won’t take the hint you spelled out too him?

He gets up behind you, death stares the guy, and arms around your waist.

“Oh hi Sammy :D!”

“Hey sweetheart, care to come back to me and dean?”

“Yeah-“

“tHeIr TaKeN, mAtE.” The creep says.

“Yeah, by me.”

If the creep still can’t take the hint, guess who has too get bailed out of jail the next morning! Wooho! Sam!

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

From him, on you:

mouth? Obviously. Quick or long make outs are both great. Speaking of making out? Weekly basis. Daylily if you’ll let it. (And if a case isn’t in the way)

Neck kisses? YES YES YES

Forehead. Protective !!!

Shoulders? Also protective!!!! A little ‘hi’ from behind.

From you, to him:

Neck kisses, instant puppy dog eyes.

Nose kisses, if you can reach that is, just. So sweet.

Forehead kisses, Again, if you can reach, so protected.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Really sweet, try’s his best, really wishes to be a dad some day.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Even if you didn’t fall asleep with him somewhat cuddled up with him, you will be.

Nearly always wake before you, probably back from his run. Mumbling about ‘breakfast’.

“Morning baby, you want breakfast?”

You, totally still half asleep, “… yeah.”

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Even if you are a night owl, if it’s hunting time, you’ll go to sleep first.

But if it’s just normal, he’ll have you lay on him. Kissing your head, watching tv till you both fall asleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Definitely waits, he feels like if you knew everything maybe you’d see him for the freak he seems himself as.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Depends on if a hunt is going wrong or if he has a lot bubbling up. But I’d say he’s not very easily angered.

Well, unless someone talks shit about his family, including you. Their face will never look the same.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Really tires to remember everything. Wants to remember every single thing so that he can bring it up in conversation. So you know he’s listening.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Anytime you had anything like a mundane or normal life. Just cooking together? Shopping for groceries? Doing chores together? All his personal heaven.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He understands that you can protect yourself, you’re a hunter after all, but of course he still covers you whenever he cans.

Oh yeah, and chuck forbid something happens too you, everyone’s dead.

When he can, he cuddles you, hugs you, arms around you and head right on top of yours, walking around. Feeling like if anything would even try he could protect you.

I can see him thinking that he doesn’t need to be protected but saving his ass last minute will make him fall in love with you all over again.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Dates? Tries too make them special when he can, but the best you could get on the road is probably just a movie marathon or a diner date with breakfast (and hopefully no dean)

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Well, if we over look the demon blood thing, he definitely bites his nails.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Anything but his hair, he really doesn’t care for, well, of course he works out, needs to be fit for demon hunting but other then that he really doesn't care.

He really doesn’t like people cutting his hair, no hair stylist, not dear old dad (fucking John), not Dean, I think the only person, alive, he’d let cut his hair is you.

Hair holds memory’s and after losing so many people it just feel’s terrible having it cut. Like he’s forgetting them.

But with you it’s different, you want to braid his hair? Sure. Want to style it? Hmm okey. You think it look good a little shorter? Only for you.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Definitely, sometimes he goes of on hunts alone and if he can’t at least hear your voice from a call or two, expect a very clingy Sam when he gets back.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Uses his puppy dog eyes to get anything he wants from you.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I mean as long as your not a demon you’re okey??

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Always a long nap after a hunt with you, of course.

Doesn't have a sleep schedule but tries to get at least 4 hours of sleep.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fluff #sfw alphabet #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester supernatural #spn #sam winchester spn #supernatural #spn fanfic #spn fluff

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writeformesinpie · 2 years

Text

A-Z Yandere Prompts w/ Dialogue Starters

A is for... Appetite

“I want to know how you’ll taste between my teeth.”

“I can never get enough of you. I’ll drink you down to the last sip.”

“You look delicious. I won't stop until I’ve eaten every bite.”

B is for... Brand

“I’m going to engrave myself into your very being.”

“We won’t stop until you’re so covered in my scent, no one will dare touch you again.”

“With this tattoo I’ve claimed you.”

C is for... Consequences

“Don’t play with fire if you don’t want to burn.”

“Don’t complain now – you did this to yourself.”

“You reap what you sow.”

D is for... Delusion

“This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

“Why are you acting like you don’t know me?”

“Why are you running? I did this for you!”

E is for... Eradicate

“You don’t need a job, baby. Your job is being mine.”

“You’re better off without them anyway.”

“I removed the problem. You should be thanking me.”

F is for... Forbidden

“You knew what you were getting into when you got involved with me.”

“They will never let us be together unless we make them.”

“It’s only taboo to those who’ve never loved like us.”

G is for... Game

“Here kitty, kitty.”

“I don’t know how to lose.”

“One, two, Daddy is coming for you. Three, four, knocking down your door.”

H is for... Harmless

“I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

“Why are you scared?”

“You’re the only reason worth living for.”

I is for... Isolation

“Why would you want to leave? I’m keeping you here for your own good!”

“There’s nothing left for you but me. Everyone else is gone.”

“No one will ever find you here.”

J is for... Jealousy

“If his filthy hands touch you again I’ll kill him.”

“Shouldn’t you be spending more time with me?”

“I can’t control how I react when your eyes wander.”

K is for... Kidnap

“You say kidnap, I say date. Who’s really to know?”

“It’s not kidnapping when your soul yearns to be here.”

“There’s no use trying to run. This is your home now.”

L is for... Lies

“The truth would have just hurt you.”

“I’m not lying – I bent the truth a little to protect you.”

“Don’t you believe me?”

M is for... Manipulation

“I’ve done everything for you and this is how you repay me?”

“If you leave me now I’ll die. I can’t survive without you.”

“I told you they couldn’t be trusted.”

N is for... Neglect

“Stop ignoring me!”

“Look at you, you’re skin and bones.”

“If you won’t take care of yourself I will be forced to do it for you.”

O is for... Obsession

“It’s our anniversary! How could you forget? There isn’t a single thing I don’t remember about you.”

“So it's a little crush when you fawn over him but it's an obsession when I pay attention to you?”

“I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. You’re all I can think about.”

P is for... Persistence

“To my dying breath, I’ll never let you go.”

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I’ll catch you.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

Q is for Quid Pro Quo

“If you do this for me I’ll think about helping you.”

“Well, I guess it pays to have friends in high places.”

“You owe me.”

R is for... Restraints

“I’ll let you go when you understand this is where you belong.”

“Your poor wrists… Maybe next time you’ll do what I say the first time I ask.”

“The cuffs will come off when you start acting like someone who doesn’t need them.”

S is for... Spoil

“I’d do anything for you, babe. Anything.”

“Is this okay? Did I do well?”

“Nothing is ever enough for you, is it?”

T is for... Training

“We can do this the hard way or the easy way. It’s up to you.”

“Haven’t we already moved past this? Do I have to train you again?”

“Patience is a virtue. We’ll keep going until you learn.”

U is for... Unending

“No matter how long you make me wait, our love will never die.”

“The only way out of this house is death.”

“There is no end. We are eternal.”

V is for... Voyeur

“Don’t act as if you don’t know me. I've been watching you watch me.”

“I like you best when you’re sleeping.”

“If I don’t keep an eye on you, who knows what will happen?”

W is for... Worship

“You’re my whole world, my Goddess. You're more than divine, you’re celestial.”

“Let me show you what adoration truly looks like.”

“No matter what you do to me, I’ll worship the very ground you walk on. That's what it means to love someone.”

X is for... XOXO

“I want to hold you but I can’t. Once I do, I know I’ll never stop.”

“I need to kiss every inch of your skin.”

“When we part, every caress becomes more agonizing than the last.”

Y is for... Yearn

“I’m aching for your touch.”

“You’re my oasis. Please don’t leave me thirsting.”

“You don’t know true pain. I’ll show you what it really means to crave something.”

Z is for... Zealot

“You are my religion.”

“Words like radical and extremist are just a pseudonym for enthusiastic.”

“No matter the world, we are fated. Through time and space we will always find each other.”

~Feel free to reblog and use~

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joonberriess · 1 year

Text

m e a n d y o u r m a m a

p a i r i n g : namjoon x reader

g e n r e : domestic boyfriend au.

t a g s : soft smut, drunk sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, breeding kink, flashbacks are in italics, y’all are rlly in love, mentions of future pregnancy, DOMESTIC, model!reader, teasing, IM SICK AT HOW SWEET THIS IS, drunk scene is where the baby is made LMAO

w o r d c o u n t : 3.6 k

s u m m a r y : you like to remember both what life before the little one was and after with your loving boyfriend namjoon.

“Just how did you two manage to find each other in such a big world, what stood out the most for you?”

– I can’t really put my finger on it, when we first met each other I admit it was all me in the beginning. I couldn’t stop staring at her and I think she thought I was a creep or a weirdo. “Oh would you look at that, Kim Namjoon from BTS is a weirdo,” or something like that. I didn’t approach her until the end of the night, right as she was leaving. It turned out we had a lot in common, other than the whole being invited to the same fashion show thing.

The camera shutters and flashes went off in every direction and the room was filled with chatters from the stylists on set. Despite getting the chills now and then you felt empowered and beautiful in the tiny backless night slip that seemed to ride up with every movement you made. (You know Namjoon is definitely enjoying the sight of you prancing around in such scandalous attire.)

Namjoon’s dressed to the nines, styled in a black and white striped suit, a watch worth over sixteen thousand, and his black hair styled in such a way you wanted to tangle your hands in it. “You’re both sensual beings,” the photographer had expressed before the shoot even began, and that he was right about.

Here you were, perched on Namjoon’s lap like his personal little arm candy to show off to the world. His hand rested over the small of your back, his other arm perched on the armchair whilst he lazily flicked his hand back to avoid getting any ashes on you or himself. “Look into the camera,” the photographer mumbled, “show me the art of sex you both embody.”

You stared into the camera with a sultry gaze, eyes half lidded and lips parted slightly. Namjoon couldn’t resist and right before the camera went off again he turned to look at you with eyes full of desire and lust. How could he not after all? Given that you were practically being offered on a silver platter to him dressed so scantily and pretty.

“How did you realize that she was the one?”

– It wasn’t hard at all, I often sat at home thinking about the future a lot with her, I slowly realized she was my home, my entire future included too. I think that the dealbreaker for me was when we finally decided to get matching tattoos of our name together, we went in separately because we wanted to surprise each other. She comes out smiling like a kid in a candy shop, and when I ask her why she shows me her ring finger, and right there I see my initials. I fell even more then and there. If it was even possible.

The hand on your grip gently guided you to a more comfortable position, ensuring that you were relaxed. You had a tiny smile on your lips as you stared deeply into his eyes. You hadn’t missed the way he subtly ran his hand over the expanse of your baby soft skin. His hand cheekily snuck a little squeeze here and there.

“Are you free after this shoot?” Namjoon grins in amusement, suppressing his laughter when he sees you roll your eyes at him. “What? Are you, or are you not?”

You give him a look, failing to hold back your smile as you fondly bring him down for a gentle peck. “I’ll have to see Mr Kim, we’ll have to discuss this with baby Kim, see what he thinks about it.”

Namjoon sighs in fake exasperation, “..I guess baby Kim can join us too then.” You playfully smack him in response.

“How in love would you say you are?”

– I would rather not be on this Earth if I couldn’t be with her, everyday I’m more and more thankful she came into my life. I don’t worry about it at night anymore, not when our little blessing is sleeping in the room next to ours. I think that I’m most definitely ready to settle down and enjoy life, well, our life to be exact. I think an image that’s recurring in my mind is of us walking down the beach with our kid, that’s how in love I am..

The world went absolutely berserk when Namjoon’s company had announced both his relationship and your pregnancy. For the sake of privacy your company didn’t offer much to the press, stating that anything in direct relation to your private life was to be revealed by you and you only. Something you deeply appreciated.

You dated quietly for several months, flying in and out to see each other with no one but your closest friends seeing the two of you together. Here and there you dropped some cryptic pictures with his hand in yours, a scenery photo from your date, and if you were feeling a bit bolder you posted a picture from the back of him walking straight ahead of you with your hand still in his.

Your fans were just dying to know who you were seeing, begging and pleading for more. You didn’t make an official statement until after the events of you discovering your pregnancy. Which like mentioned before was several months into your dating.

When you finally dropped the news of your pregnancy, you were about five months along already. It hadn’t been much but a simple picture collage on Instagram of your belly being surrounded by two ultrasound pictures. Namjoon’s hands were laid over yours with the caption being: “our tiny bundle of joy”.

The internet blew up, which was understandable because their favorite supermodel was both tied down and “somebody’s baby mama”. It felt a little cruel to leave them hanging so you explained in a more formal post on your Instagram. “I know lots of you are surprised ‘n stuff but I wanna let you guys know I’m doing okay and I’m happy with my on-going pregnancy! As you can see I’ve met someone very special to me and we’ve been together for a while now. I hope you will all continue to support me! xoxo”.

Namjoon was next after you since he had wanted you to be on-board when you both decided to reveal your relationship. He did the same, except posting a full blown picture of you sitting in the grass with the sunlight pouring down over your frame. He added a simple heart to it and let his company do the rest for him.

When the baby was born you had decided to add all those little moments captured on camera to a small video you decided to dedicate to your little one. Looking back on it now makes your heart swell with utter adoration and love for Namjoon. You realize that you’d go to hell and back for him, and he’d do the same for you.

After parties in LA are crazy, well the LA lifestyle was pretty wild on its own anyways. After attending your friend’s concert with Namjoon and some other friends of his, you two went off to the after party. It was pretty wild already, drinks were poured and people were sitting in small circles on the rooftop smoking weed and taking other stuff you were going to stay as far away from.

Namjoon and you were swaying together on the dancefloor, you had your arms wrapped around his shoulders loosely and his hands settled on your waist. You admit that maybe you had taken a few more shots than intended, same for Namjoon but the buzz was pleasant though and being with your boyfriend made it one hundred times better.

He had his forehead resting on yours, a closed-eye smile on his face as he listened to you sing along to the song playing in the background. “You’re off-key.” He teases.

“Do you want me to stop? Wait, do I sound that bad?” You pout at him and bring him down for gentle kisses, “You’re supposed to lie to me and say I sing better than anyone on this Earth.”

Namjoon’s eyes open and he kisses you a bit more intensely, “You sing better than anyone on this planet.” He murmurs against your lips.

A small smile forms as you push your forehead against his, “Are you drunk right now Joon? You telling me these things cause you know it’s what I wanna hear?” You tease softly. He shrugs in response and you laugh again and throw your head back. The world around you spins from how dazed you are at the moment.

Namjoon follows and leans down to trail kisses up the column of your neck, “You singing isn’t the only thing going on in my mind right now baby,” he mumbles, “I could think of a couple other things we could be doing instead of being here.”

You hum in response, “What kind of things were you thinking of?” You lick your lips. He doesn’t reply, not verbally at least, he slots his lips against yours with more intensity than the small lazy kisses he has been exchanging with you this past hour.

A soft little moan escapes your lips and you wrap your arms tighter around his neck. He pulls you in so you’re both pressed up against each other and whatnot. Through his jeans you can feel the outline of his cock press against your thigh, hot and throbbing which in turn makes you whine quietly into his mouth. Namjoon hikes one of your legs around his hip so he can press right up against your clothed pussy.

You start grinding sensually against him, unknowingly moving to the beat of the music playing in the background. Namjoon groans softly against your lips and pulls back to stare into your eyes with a half-lidded expression. “C’mon, let’s get the fuck outta here.” He tugs you in by your ass.

You nod eagerly and stumble after him as he takes you through the large crowd of people. You’re in no state to drive and neither is he so you two catch a ride with a friend you see who also happens to be leaving the party too. The whole ride back to your home is spent exchanging heated kisses in the backseat of your friend’s car.

When you get there Namjoon hoists you up in his arms and carries you in. You tangle your hands in his soft hair and tug him closer for a kiss, moaning into his mouth as he kicks the front door open and enters. “C’mon baby,” you mumble pawing at his shirt as you try to take it off, “need you so bad.”

Namjoon groans in response and sets you down, hurriedly tossing his shirt off and then going for the back of your pretty little dress you got on. The hallway becomes a mess leading to the bedroom where Namjoon has you pinned on the bed, hands searching through the drawer for a condom. You’re whining and pleading for him to hurry, wrapping your legs around his waist as you pull from the kiss, “Forget about it baby.”

“You sure?” He dryly replies, swallowing in obvious excitement.

“Mmhmm.” You nod, “Just need you in me,” you breathily whisper and reach down to grip his hard cock, “c’mon baby, put it in.” You moan softly as you rub his cock up and down your wet slit, “You feel how wet I am for you?”

Namjoon shivers at your husky soft tone, his eyes drop down to where your hand is stroking his cock as you tease yourself with the mushroom tip. A bead of precum drips from the tip and adds to the mess of slick your pussy has made. He moans loudly and reaches down to grip his cock himself and push up against you until the head catches at your opening.

“You’re driving me fuckin crazy baby, I’m gonna fuck you so good. Gonna have you shaking and gushin’ for me, pretty little pussy boutta cream all over my cock and make a fuckin mess.” He slurs out and presses in, pushing to the hilt until his pelvis is pressed close to yours.

A loud moan escapes your lips as you throw your head back on the pillow and grip the sheets. His words only seem to fuel the desire pooling in your belly causing you to grind up against him in an effort to chase your pleasure. Namjoon places both hands on either side of you, using it as leverage to hold himself above you while his hips begin to slowly roll into yours.

Your pussy is so slicked up you can hear every time he pushes his cock in and out. With a choke up whimper you reach between you two and rub your clit in slow circles to match with the speed of his thrusts. Namjoon buries his face in your neck and ends up mouthing at the skin there while he loses himself to the pleasure and rhythm of his thrusts.

“Fuck you feel so good babe,” he moans, “gripping me so nicely, wanna watch my cum drip from your pussy, love making a mess outta you.” He whispers into your ear, his hands slither down to grab your asscheeks and he holds onto them tightly while passionately fucking into your throbbing cunt.

A wobbly little cry bubbles out of your throat at the change of pace, he drives his cock into you passionately with his thrusts jostling you up the bed with how hard he’s going. Your bleary eyes open, the room around you is all blurred out from your tears and how tipsy you feel from the drinks earlier. You feel like you’re spinning in ecstasy, pleasure blooming pleasantly all throughout your body.

A blissful smile forms on your face as you hike your legs up higher around his body, “Mmm, right there Joonie I can feel you so deep in me… ‘s so good,'' you slur out, “gonna cum.” Your breath hitches.

Namjoon moans a little louder as he pulls back from your hickey littered neck to stare down at you, “Yeah? You gonna cum all over my cock baby? C’mon baby, wanna see your pretty face when you cum,” he leans down to slot his lips with yours in a messy little kiss, “you’re so fuckin gorgeous babe.” He whispers like it’s a top secret no one must know.

“L-Love you so much,” you hiccup softly, “so, so, much.”

Namjoon whispers his own set of ‘I love yous’ whilst he fucks away at your cunt. His cock bumps into your g-spot over and over again, it makes your legs shake from the strong pleasure. Your orgasm draws nearer and nearer until you suddenly stiffen and it hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Namjoon..!” You cry out, hugging his body closely to you as you shake through your orgasm.

He groans in response and bucks up into you for a few more minutes until he’s coming too. He cums with a low moan of your name, head already dropped down on your chest. You end up laying there lazily trying to catch your breath and stay awake. A wave of drowsiness hits you out of nowhere, you try to blink the sleepiness away but every second that ticks by you’re closer to knocking out.

“Mmm so sleepy.” You softly whisper as you let your arms fall back on the bed and lay there motionlessly.

Namjoon hums in response as he lays his head on your bare tits, “Me too.” He mumbles out, eyes already closed in bliss.

“Les sleep,” you slur out softly and wrap your arms around his head, “so.. Sleepy.” You whisper the last part out before sleep takes over and you’re left in the dark.

“... ‘Would you look at that Haru, daddy’s finally getting around to build your crib. After ordering and leaving it in the closet for months.’ You tease softly, holding the camera up as you try to get it to focus on Namjoon who’s sitting in the middle of the room reading a book of instructions with a look of utter confusion on his face.

‘You need help there?’ You laugh softly.

Namjoon looks up at you with his eyes lighting up with joy when he sees both you and your swelling baby bump, ‘You come in here to make fun of me or what?’ He chuckles as he sets the booklet down and holds his hand out to you.

‘No, dropped by to ask for the car keys cause I’m hungry–no, we’re hungry.’ You correct as you rub your belly and step closer.

Namjoon gently pulls you in and nuzzles his face against your tummy, ‘I left the keys in the room by the bed, what’re you gonna get?’ He says as he lays soft kisses over your shirt.

‘A burger or something.’ You reply and angle the camera downwards so you can capture him kissing your tummy, ‘You wanna come? That way you can take a break n stuff since this crib stuff is hard.’ You laugh.

‘Haha, very funny.’ Namjoon rolls his eyes with a chuckle.

‘Love youuuuu.’ You coo as you begin walking away, capturing his own ‘I love you’ just in time before you walk out the door…”

Namjoon and you were both wrapped up in bed lazily making out with the TV on in the background. You were SUPPOSED to be watching the new Scream movie that came out but Namjoon had other plans. With him kissing up on you like that it reminded you how rare sex was between the two of you ever since Haru was born. It was like the kid had a sixth sense and knew when you guys were trying to get into the mood and stuff.

You’re surprised he hasn’t started crying through the monitors by now, but you rather not jinx it just yet. You’re both buried under the warm covers which obscures both you and your noises. Namjoon takes it slow, rocking his hips back and forth against yours. His cock fills you to the brim and brings nothing but a pleasant ache and pleasure. This is exactly what you were missing, the intimacy.

Given the circumstances around Haru’s conception you and Namjoon went back to using condoms because you were not about to risk anything (not that you didn’t miss him going bare, which he did a lot during the pregnancy). Soft moans and pleased little sighs left the both of you, between the two of you there were quiet squelching noises that your sopping pussy made from how slicked up you were down there.

“Shit.” Namjoon curses under his breath as he ducks down to hide his face in your neck.

He keeps the same pace up, making sure to hit those sensitive spots that send spiraling in pleasure. Your moans rise a bit in volume but he’s quick to hush you with his lips, not wanting to wake up the baby in fears of ending the one time you can fuck early. Namjoon pants softly and pulls back, reaching down to hike your thigh around his hip to go in deeper.

“Fuck you make me wanna give you another baby.” He groans out, “Gonna look so beautiful, full of our baby,” his eyes close and he shudders in pleasure like he’s thinking about it.

You let out a tiny mewl in response, pussy tightening around his cock at the thought of him knocking you up with another baby, “You’re not playing fair.” You softly pout.

Namjoon breathily chuckles but it dissolves into a moan when you squeeze around his cock again, “Can’t help it, you look too goddamn sexy.” He purrs and rocks into you faster.

The bed frame gently creaks from the increase in speed, you end up whining at the change and quivering, “Right there,” you bury your face in his neck and hold on, “mmm..mm.” He grunts quietly and keeps hitting that spot where you like it, he reaches down to flick his thumb over your clit in time with his thrusts.

Your head falls back and you let out a loud long moan, shivering for a few seconds before going limp as your pussy convulses around his cock. He hisses softly and lets himself fall on you as he rocks into you slowly, trying to stave off his own orgasm but failing miserably because you feel so good.

He throbs and a quiet moan escapes his lips, cum filling the condom (he secretly wishes it was you he was filling up. “Shit.” He lifts himself off of you and rolls on to his back, “Can’t believe we actually got to finish this time.” He chuckles.

You sleepily hum, curling up and closing your eyes, “..I know right..” You mumble softly, already on the verge of falling asleep since you know, that’s the parent life for you now.

Namjoon yawns quietly and leans over to smooch you gently, “Night baby.”

“....Night.” You whisper softly.

“Is this..?”

“Yes.”

“..Holy shit, you’re serious. Fuck baby.”

“Are you not happy..?”

“Of course I am baby, I’m excited to have this baby with you. I love you more than life itself, I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with you, only if you’ll have me of course.”

“Of course I will you big dummy, why wouldn’t I?”

“I love you two so much..”

“I love you too.”

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader

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deus-ex-mona · 10 months

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i hope you never get sold </3

#first pieces of hw merch i see all trip and…… it’s [redacted] anime merch lmao #the only other things i’ve seen are either cds or vol 4 of the mona manga lol #but g o d i think i’ve seen way more e n s t a r s over this singular week than i have in my entire life #i’m soo glad i quit e n s t a r s (will log in tomorrow for the login bonuses anyway)#but idk maybe there would have been more hw merch in the a k i b a outlet if i’d gone to the character goods section… guess i’ll never know

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crappymixtape · 1 year

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laugh like lovers, kiss like friends

you're getting married – steve’s in town for the ceremony and it dredges up old memories, ones you thought you'd forgotten, but you have to decide, will you say ‘i do’ or will your heart realize what you really want has been there all along? | ( 9.1k, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

L A U G H L I K E L O V E R S, K I S S L I K E F R I E N D S 🎶 cold water swimming, quiet houses

“How about these, dear? Eucalyptus pairs lovely with peonies. Besides, wildflowers for a wedding? In all my years as a planner I’ve never seen it. No one does it. It's just tacky, hon.”

Twirling the stem of a daisy between your fingers you bit the inside of your cheek, only half hearing the woman standing next to you among all the buckets and vases of flowers in the greenhouse.

Wildflowers for a wedding? No one does it.

Pulling your eyes off the daisy you forced a smile, “Of course, I’m sorry. Peonies sound great.”

“Wonderful, I’ll add it to the day-of agenda and make sure the florist knows you’ve made up your mind. It’s an excellent choice, one your fiance will be happy with I’m sure.”

Your fiance.

Sam proposed less than a month ago in the kitchen of your little downtown Indianapolis apartment with his grandmother’s ring. A huge, gaudy diamond that made your hands look even smaller than they already were and after you’d called your mom the news had spread like wildfire.

Sam didn’t want to wait, he probably would’ve dragged you down to the courthouse if it hadn’t been for his parents and your mom, but it meant things were moving at the speed of light and you were running to catch up.

When he’d looked up at you, ring box outstretched, you knew what your first thought should’ve been. Tears and overwhelming joy and a resounding Yes! but none of it came. Instead your first thought had been long stalks of grass. The glittering turquoise water of the quarry. Skunky weed and wildflowers and hot, sticky Indiana summers.

Steve.

“Babe, you gotta call the bakery back, the lady doesn’t get it. Idiot,” Sam’s voice cut through into your thoughts and you blinked them away.

“What?”

“The cake? She’s not getting it. I told her we wanted vanilla, like actual vanilla not that imitation shit.”

“Julie’s not an idiot,” your tone grew clipped, short, brow furrowing as you folded your arms across your chest. Julie had lived in Hawkins since before your family moved in across the street from her. The only, and best, bakery in town with the sweetest baker known to man. Julie was a saint.

“Okay, well then you try and explain it to her. I’m done,” Sam huffed, pinching his nose between his fingers and shaking his head. “I’m gonna go get food with my mom. Can’t wait until this is all over,” he grumbled under his breath. “I’ll see you back at the house," and with that he hastily pressed a kiss to your forehead before stalking out of the greenhouse.

“Not really a man’s arena is it,” the planner said giving you an overly sweet smile, “Better to let us take care of it, hm?”

“I guess,” you couldn’t bear to force another smile, “Thanks for your help, but I need to go get ready for tonight. Call me if anything else comes up.”

“On it and don’t you worry, only a few more days. Just think! The happiest day of your life!”

The happiest day of your life.

It sure as hell didn’t didn’t it feel like it.

The high vaulted ceilings in your parents’ living room looked the same as they had when you lived there. Same ugly, bumpy texture and yellowed color, now with a few too-high cobwebs just out of reach hanging in the corners.

The buzz of conversation filling the air around you was incessant, blending and blurring together and making you feel like you were far away. Like you were a spectator and not the bride-to-be and your chest squeezed with nerves. There were so many people packed into the house and as guests hurled their questions at you, your anxiety only grew.

“Oh, sweetie you look amazing! You’ll be a beautiful bride!” “Tell me again, where are you going for your honeymoon?” “Sam is such a catch, does he have any available friends? Just kidding! But seriously?” “Oh my god, look at that ring! He must really love you.”

One of Sam’s cousins had been hammering you with question after question, barely giving you any room to reply and you felt like you were drowning in it. The walls of the living room suddenly felt like they were closing in on you, making you feel claustrophobic and you needed air. Outside. Anything other than this. “Is-is it warm in here?” you stuttered, pulling at the collar of your dress.

“No? What d’you mean–”

“I’m sorry, excuse me,” you didn’t wait for her to finish and instead moved as quickly as you could through the crowd, trying not to project your panic with a fake smile plastered on your lips until you reached the slider door.

“Honey!” your stomach sank. Your mom. “Your aunt and uncle just got here, you need to say hello!”

Looking over your shoulder she was standing with her hands on her hips, brow furrowed in frustration, watching as your fingers gripped the handle of the patio door.

“I know,” your voice was edged with irritation and you bit your tongue. “Please? I just need some air for a minute. I’ll be right back,” and you could tell she didn’t like your answer, but she didn’t fight you on it as you slipped outside, all the noise and voices and music blunted and sliced in half as you shut the door behind you.

Leaning back against the glass, eyes closed, you pulled in a breath of air and let it out slowly. Trying, telling, yourself you had to keep it together. Just a minute out here and you’d feel right as rain. Ready to dive back in.

The happiest day of your life.

“Shouldn’t you be inside?”

Your eyes flew open, an all-too-familiar voice making your heart leap into your throat.

He was sitting on the edge of one of the pool loungers like it was nothing, a few locks of stray hair falling into his eyes, all warm honey and burnt caramel and the boyish grin he was giving you made you feel dizzy. Like it always did.

“I’ve been inside for like two hours,” you shot back, but you couldn’t ever bring yourself to really sound mad at him.

At Steve.

“Well don't sound like you’re having too much fun. Not like you’re getting married in three days or anything,” he teased, scooting over on the lounger, a silent invitation for you to sit next to him and you took it.

“Don’t remind me–” fell out, “–what I mean is–it's just–just planning everything has been...a lot.”

Steve caught your slip up, but didn’t call it out, only humming in reply as he threaded a hand through his hair, watching as you settled down next to him. “I’m about a month late, but congrats,” he offered with a small smile before taking a drink from his beer.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” you replied lamely, cheeks flushing when he looked over at you. You were entirely too sober for this. “Here, gimme that,” reaching over you took the beer from his hand, chugging half of it in one go and pulling a laugh out of Steve.

“Jesus,” Steve laughed, amused at you, a sound you’d missed so very much. “Take it easy,” he chided gently, but it was all warm and sticky sweet like popsicles on a hot day and when you gave it back he shook his head.

Silence lingered between you for a moment, the static sound of the pool filter trickling in the background, and your thoughts drifted back to a moment a few years ago. Up in your room while summer spun by outside. The last time he'd been over here. Steve.

Bobbing along to the music coming from your stereo, you crammed the last of your photos into one of the empty supply boxes Steve had brought over from Family Video.

“I wanted to be with you alone and talk about the weather, but traditions I can trace against the child in your face won't escape my attention,” you sang a little off key, giving your shoulders a little shimmy as you turned to grab the pile of books on your bed.

“You keep your distance via the system of touch and gentle persuasion. I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much?” Steve sang back, browed knitted together in dedication to the bit, hips swaying as he wiped down your dresser. Turning with the roll of paper towels in his hand he held it out to you as the chorus neared, both of you singing horribly.

“Oh, you're wasting my time, you're just, just, just wasting time!”

“God, who’s gonna sing shitty with me when you’re not around?” Steve tossed the roll onto your bed, leaning back against the drawers behind him.

“Robin sucks more than I do,” you shot back, and Steve mumbled in agreement.

“Yeah, but she hates Tears for Fears,” there was a slight whine in his voice that made you look up at him over your box and grin.

“Well then save it for me when I’m back on Christmas break.”

Steve gave you a pout and folded his arms over his chest, “That’s like, a fucking eon from now.”

“It’s not that long,” you moved around the other side of your bed to sit in front of him, a small pause swallowing you both into silence.

Clearing your throat you dropped your gaze down your shoes, kicking them in time with the song still playing in the background. You glanced over at Steve’s dirty, beat up Blazers and smiled. “I guess I’ll miss you,” you teased, looking back up at him and he gave you a smile, but it softened the longer he looked at you.

“I know I’ll miss you,” he said, and you knew he meant it, and your heart fluttered in your chest like a bird caught in a cage as the air around you grew thick with words unsaid, but implied. Steve took a step away from the dresser, standing in the V of your legs, hand moving to lift your chin up with his thumb and forefinger.

You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, meeting his gaze, and everything felt hazy. “Miss you too, Stevie,” you murmured and he leaned down slowly. Tilting your chin ever so gently he hesitated for just a second before pressing his lips against yours. Your room and half-packed boxes and everything fell away in the warm, glittering feeling of Steve and summer and the last of the light falling through your window washed you both in gold like it wanted to hold you in that moment forever.

“How long are you in town for?” your voice broke the silence between you and Steve took another drink of his beer.

“Just til the day after the wedding, need to get back to things,” he said softly, stealing a look at you out of the corner of his eye, smiling at the way your nose scrunched up when you were thinking, “You look really pretty by the way.”

Your cheeks warmed and you stole a look at him too, “You have to say that.”

“No I don’t. I do on your wedding day, but this is a freebie,” he teased, trying to make it seem lighter than it was, but you both knew the weight it carried.

“Babe, c’mon. You gotta get back inside. It’s rude. People are looking for you,” the sudden sound of Sam’s voice sliced your moment in two and Steve sat up straight, leaning away from you as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Alright, I just needed some air,” your voice sounded tired and Steve caught the look in your eyes as you roughed your hands over your face, “I’m coming.”

“Harrington,” Sam sniped, and Steve gave him a big smile, knowing just how much the other man hated finding the two of you sitting together.

“Sammy,” Steve teased and you had to bite back a laugh, hiding it in a cough, but Sam knew.

“I fuckin’ hate that,” Sam gave Steve a look and he just smiled.

“I think it’s cute,” you chimed in, but knew you should’ve kept it to yourself when Sam glared daggers at you.

“Inside,” he said, patience short, and you felt your own run out as you glared right back, but moved toward the slider door anyway.

“I’ll see you,” you told Steve and just before you slipped back into the chaos, he gave you a look. The same one you remembered from that hot summer evening in your room as you packed your life into boxes. A look that put fire to the embers lying dormant in your chest and something you thought had been extinguished flickered back to life.

“Sam, hurry up, we’re going to be late!”

“I’m trying. You know how much I hate being outside. These stupid boots are too tight and–” Sam grunted, leaning over to tug at his socks, “–these are itchy as hell.”

“You don’t have to wear them, but your legs are gonna get bit up and scratched on the trail,” you shook your head, yanking your own worn-in boots onto your feet.

“Bit? Are you kidding me?”

“What? It’s summer, there are a ton of bugs out right now.”

Sam sucked in a breath and put his face in his hands, standing on the other side of the bed from you. He’d agreed to it at first, thought maybe it might be a quaint little jaunt through a park, but when he realized it was an actual hike up the bluff just outside Hawkins – in nature – he’d thrown a fit.

It was one of your favorite places, a special piece of home, and you were going to go with or without him.

“Just stay home, Sam. It’s fine,” you huffed, kicking your suitcase shut, tugging your ponytail through the back of your baseball cap.

“You know what? Maybe I will. This whole place is too much. Jason’ll get beers with me,” he growled under his breath, yanking his boots off to get to his socks, “Enjoy your hike.”

“Great, thanks, will do,” you almost left the room without saying goodbye, but something made you hesitate and you paused for a second at the door, eyes squeezed shut. Why was everything so damn hard? This was supposed to be easy.

The happiest day of your life.

Resigned, you turned around and retraced the few steps over to Sam. “I’ll see you when we’re back,” you muttered, bending down and brushing a hasty kiss to his cheek.

“See you,” he didn’t meet your gaze, instead scowling at the ground and it was the push you needed to leave, the weight on your shoulders lifting as you hurried down the stairs and out the door.

The sun was just coming up, painting the sky cotton candy pinks and blurred warm tangerines. You could feel the heat already and as you got out of your car at the bluff the feeling of the sun on your bare legs pulled a heavy sigh from your lungs. Breathing out the stress and pressure of the last few days and you closed your eyes for a minute, leaning against the warmth of your car.

It would be okay. Today was for you. This was for you.

Opening them again you heard another car rumbling up the dirt road behind you and when you turned around you grinned so big your cheeks started to hurt.

“OH MY GOD,” Robin squealed. She practically leapt out of the backseat of Steve’s BMW and ran over to you, gathering you up in her arms and squeezing tight. “What the hell! You look amazing! Shit. Is this like, pre-wedding glow or did you stop eating meat or something? I hear it’s like, totally bad for your skin.”

“Robin,” Steve shook his head as he shut his car door before walking around to get Robin’s too.

“What? All legitimate questions! Right, Eds?” she shot back.

“I mean, not the first thing I’d ask,” Eddie replied with a grin, but you could hear the softness of him behind it.

“Alright, well I wouldn’t expect you to know anyway. Weddings are like a foreign language to you plebs,” Robin said simply, clicking her fanny pack around her waist.

“Hey, that’s not fair, I know enough,” Steve chimed in, propping a hand on his hip and giving Robin a look.

“Children, not about us today!” Eddie chided, following after Robin and gathering you up into one of his bear hugs. “Hi, sweetheart,” he held you out at arm’s length and gave you a warm Eddie smile.

“Hi,” you grinned back, the happiest you’d been in days just listening to the comforting sound of your friends bickering, “Missed you.”

“Mmm, you too,” Eddie hummed, shooting a quick glance over at Steve. “Some of us more than others,” he said a bit quieter, bringing his eyes back to you and you felt your cheeks flush.

“Okay, hike?” you deflected, then accusingly looked back at Eddie, “You’re not still smoking are you?”

“Only on Wednesdays,” he flipped back casually, but you knew he was full of shit.

“Munson, you’re a horrible liar,” Steve drawled, rolling his eyes, starting the walk to the edge of the bluff. “Nance and Jonathan are already at the top,” he said over his shoulder, “Jonathan wanted to get a time lapse of the sunrise.”

“Oh, sick,” Eddie clapped his hands, “I gotta see it. C’mon, Buckley get with it.” He waved an arm forward, pulling Robin into a jog and you shook your head with a soft laugh as you caught up with Steve. Starting up the bluff two by two.

The sounds of everything coming to life swirled around the four of you as you walked. The buzz of the insects, birds chirping their morning songs and tractors rumbling to life in the fields alongside the bluff.

Home.

“God, the last time we were up here was so Dustin could talk to Suzie,” Steve half-laughed, Eddie and Robin walking just ahead of you. You grinned at the memory.

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “They might be worse than we are at singing.”

“Didn’t think it was possible to be honest,” he teased gently, smiling over at you, looking for a long moment before dropping his gaze back down to his feet.

You could feel his eyes on you and the warmth of it filled you up and spilled over at the edges, making you happier than you’d been in a long time and a tiny pinch of guilt squeezed in your chest.

“Thanks for getting up so early,” you exhaled, breaths getting heavier as the incline of the bluff steepened, Steve pulling in a breath next to you.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve slept in since high school,” he waved you off, “Managing a store’s got me up ass early every day. Besides, wouldn’t miss it.” Arms swinging at your sides, his fingers brushed against yours as you walked and the embers in your chest glowed bright.

“Yeah,” you sighed, wishing that for once Sam had come along. That he’d put even a little bit of effort into your interests. That he’d care even a fraction of what Steve cared and the embers flickered again with your frustration.

“You two are slow as hell!” Eddie teased and when you looked up you saw he and Robin had been moving much faster than you and Steve. “I’m smoking a victory cigarette at the top!” he yelled and Robin smacked him, both of them dissolving into laughter.

“C’mon, that asshole doesn’t need another cigarette,” Steve’s brow furrowed in frustration and he picked up the pace, pulling you along with him as he lengthened his stride.

Jonathan and Nancy were waiting for the four of you at the top and, much to Eddie’s dismay, Robin beat him by a couple of feet, stealing his cigarettes and jamming them into her fanny pack as punishment.

Jonathan had asked Nancy to marry him two years ago now, Christmas eve under the tree at the farm and they’d eloped that spring there on top of the bluff. It had been a small, but sweet ceremony, with only family and close friends. Perfectly Nance and Jonathan and as you thought back on it your stomach twisted with a longing feeling.

As you sat scattered among the long grass in pairs – Eddie and Robin, Nancy and Jonathan, you and Steve – a breeze picked up and blew through the wildflowers around you, taking then with it and you watched as the buttercups danced in the wind.

You wanted wildflowers. Not peonies and eucalyptus.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Steve’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked over at him, sat close enough to you in the grass that you could see all the little moles and freckles that dotted down the line of his jaw, his neck, the exposed skin along the top of his shirt.

“Flowers,” fell out and you didn’t shy away from him, meeting his gaze.

“Flowers?” he asked, brow knitting together in confusion.

“Stupid flowers. And cake. And nature and socks and–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. What are you talking about?” Steve scooted closer to you, your legs pressing together as you sat facing each other and he put a hand on your knee.

Your throat tightened and you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you willed them away. Not here. You didn’t mean it.

“Hey,” he said softer, hand lifting from your knee to press into yours and you blinked hastily, pulling in a breath to steady yourself.

“I don’t know,” you started, closing your eyes for a minute, trying to ground yourself. “I just–I thought this would be easier. We’re supposed to be in love and planning this should be fun, but it sucks and he–” catching yourself you looked back up at Steve and felt him squeeze your hand. “I’m sorry, it’s just stress. I shouldn’t–”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Steve said, thumb brushing over the bump of your knuckles, soft and warm and reassuring.

He was looking at you again like he had at the welcome party, like you were the only thing that existed in that moment and you felt yourself moving closer, your legs hovering over his with the lack of space.

“I wish Sam would look at me like that,” you whispered and Steve’s lips parted in surprise, anticipation grabbing hold of both of you as the wind picked up again.

“He’s an idiot if he doesn’t,” Steve whispered back, leaning closer still and you could feel his breath as it warmed over your cheek. The scent of his shampoo and spearmint gum and cedar and wildflowers flooding your brain and making everything feel hazy. His eyes all bright amber and flecks of gold in the sun. Closer and closer and closer and–

“Harrington! You left the food in the car!”

Leaning back from each other you felt the tension shatter with the bark of Eddie’s voice and you leapt to your feet.

“God, what a dingus,” Robin grumbled, “Now we gotta go back down.”

“Hey,” Steve scrambled to his feet ignoring them, grabbing your hand in his, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I just–I forgot I have to meet with the baker today about the cake this morning.”

“Oh,” Steve’s expression was edged with concern and he let your hand drop as the others started moving to the top of the trail.

“Rehearsal dinner is tonight right?” Robin asked offhandedly, grabbing a piece of licorice from her fanny pack.

“You have licorice in there and didn’t offer me any?” Eddie accused.

“Yeah, tonight at seven at Hop and Joyce’s farm,” you said, trying to sound casual, but the warm feeling of Steve was still holding you tightly.

“Open bar?” Eddie grinned.

“Oh my god, Munson. Shut up,” Robin chided, shoving him as they all wandered down the path in a line, you and Steve bringing up the rear.

“Course it’s open bar,” you tried to laugh, but it fell short, everything feeling like it was crumbling now.

The breeze picked up, swirling around your feet, carrying spearmint and Steve’s shampoo and boy with it and as you watched the bachelor buttons sway with the wind you felt a thought gnawing at the back of your mind.

What if.

There was still time.

Nothing’s permanent.

People change their minds all the time and…

Come over here. All you've got is this moment, twenty-first century's yesterday. You can care all you want, everybody does, yeah, that's okay.

“Chug, chug, chug!” “Don’t be a pussy, Jason!” “No way, he’s too old!”

It felt like you were back in high school throwing a rager over at Tina Rochester’s house not having drinks after your rehearsal dinner, but after most of the ‘adults’ had all gone home things got carried away.

Hop and Joyce’s farm was far enough outside of town that the noise wouldn’t bother anyone and thank god because it was loud. Maybe open bar hadn’t been the best idea, but Sam was having a great time, smiling and laughing for once and you didn’t fight it. You were having fun too.

“Ohhh! He did it!!” “Get that man a medal!”

Jason Carver, Sam’s best man, crushed his empty beer can under his foot to whoops and hollers. You weren’t sure who started it, but someone had told someone else they could shotgun a beer faster and it spiraled from there. Sam was in his element, partying alongside the other ex-basketball players, and for a minute you felt like maybe things would be okay.

Gathering you up in his arms, Sam spun you in a circle, pressing his lips messy and drunk against your cheek. “God, babe. Should be illegal to look that good,” he slurred into your ear, arms still holding you tight as he lowered you slowly back to the ground.

A grin tugged at the corners of your lips. “Gonna write me a ticket?” you teased and he reached a hand around to grab at your ass.

“Maybe I will,” he breathed and you felt a shiver run down your spine, but then a voice pulled him away.

“Sam? Oh my god!”

Carol and Tommy. Great.

“Carol?? I didn’t think y’all were getting here til tomorrow! Tommy, you look like shit,” Sam barked a laugh and lunged at his old friend, grabbing him around the waist and pushing him across the patio.

“Fuck off, you’re one to talk,” Tommy growled back, digging his hands into Sam’s ribs and both of them fell back into their old selves. Talking about a couple of friends that had gone pro, work, what married life was like for Tommy and Carol.

“Babe, go get me another beer, huh?” Sam said over his shoulder and you rolled your eyes, but giving Carol a quick hug you made your way over to the keg.

Priming the tap you started to pour beer into a cup, but it sputtered and choked before spilling foam and you frowned. “Piece of shit,” kicking the keg you shook the garbage can it was sitting in and tried again, but this time nothing came out.

“Need a hand?”

Eyes still on the keg you sighed, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you dumped the foam in your cup onto the ground. “Tapped already,” you grumbled, turning around to see Steve grinning at you, hands jammed in his pockets, tie loose and hanging around his neck and you swore he was the most handsome human being you’d ever laid eyes on.

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” he took the last few steps toward you and primed the tap again, giving the keg one firm shake, and grabbed the cup from you. Foam started coming out and you jammed your tongue into your cheek.

“Ha! Told you–”

But then the foam turned into cold, amber beer, and you clamped your mouth shut.

“You were saying?” Steve teased and you shoved him, spilling some of the beer that he’d just poured into your cup on the ground. “Hey! You’re a menace,” he chided softly, shouldering you back, but grabbing the spout again he filled the cup once more and handed it back to you.

“Thanks,” you muttered, glancing over at him as you took a sip.

“Sam seems to be having a good time,” he commented, finding a cup of his own and filling it.

“Yeah, right back to high school.” You watched as your fiance, Tommy, and Jason all snickered and laughed at each other, talking about ‘the good old’ days, and your smile fell.

You couldn’t remember the last time he laughed like that with you. When he was drinking he got more handsy, liked to keep you close to his side and brag about how you were about to get married, but nothing about how hard you worked or the fact that you were saving up to buy a place.

“I dunno,” Steve sighed, taking a drink of his beer, “I don’t miss it.”

“Me either,” you agreed, glancing up at him, and your heart stopped.

God he was pretty. The string of lights that wound around the property washed him in a warm glow. Hair falling out of place as the night spun on, the line of his jaw cast in half light, dark and strong, the long sweep of his lashes as he blinked and looked down at you, the way his lips pulled up into that smile.

“What?” Steve asked, tone amused and playful and your eyes grew wide.

“What?” you echoed stupidly.

Steve laughed and gave you a lopsided smile. “You tell me, you’re the one zoning out,” he teased and your cheeks flushed.

“Oh, n-nothing,” you stumbled over your words and quickly filled the silence with another gulp of beer.

“Okay, well when it comes back to you lemme know.” His eyes lingered on yours for just a moment longer and then a look came over him. Like he remembered something. “Oh, hey. C’mere a minute,” and then he was grabbing your hand and pulling you around the side of the barn.

As he pulled you into motion you felt just how buzzed you were and a giggle pushed itself through your lips. “What the hell are we doing?” you asked, Steve loosing a laugh of his own as he yanked you both to a stop a few yards away from the party out in the long grass of Hop’s field.

“There,” he said pointing up and you followed the line of his arm into the sky until your eyes landed on it.

“Oh,” you breathed, pulling your gaze back to Steve as he looked up into the inky black expanse of the Indiana night. He was just how you remembered him. Hair messed, all boyish and eyes full of wonder and curiosity, just like he’d been those years ago that night in his backyard while you floated in his pool.

“Yeah, that one. Right there,” Steve swam closer to you, grabbing your arm, fingers folding yours in to make a point and tugging it up over your head.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his legs brushed against yours under the water and it took everything you had in you to pull your eyes from him to look up.

“See it?”

“That one?” you asked, pointing on your own, and he nodded as your eyes trailed up the line of your arm to land on an especially bright star.

“Mmhm,” Steve murmured and all you wanted was to look at him again, so you did. “While you’re gone you can just look up at that at night and think of me,” he said matter-of-fact, giving you one of his lopsided grins.

“What if we’re not looking at the same time?”

“I’ll always be looking,” Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper and the way he looked at you made you feel like you might melt. Blinking water from your lashes you lifted a hand to his cheek and at your touch his hands slipped along the bare skin of your waist, sliding down to your hips as he slowly pulled you into him.

The pool filter was humming heavy between the all crickets and frogs and lightning bugs, but you knew the thudding of your heartbeat was louder than all of it.

Wrapping your legs around Steve’s torso, you laced your fingers at the back of his neck, wanting him closer and tighter. Hair messed and flat against his forehead, his lips were parted as he breathed you in, water dripping off the end of his nose and eyes glittering in the pool lights, burnt caramel and honey and if he hadn’t been holding onto you, you would’ve floated away.

His fingers pressed into the soft skin at your hips and you sucked in a small gasp.

“Sorry,” he whispered, and you shook your head in reply. It’s okay. And then he gently pressed his thumb to the corner of your lips, swallowing against his nerves, and asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Heart racing, fingers still tangled at the back of his neck you whispered, “Yes.”

“Remember when we found it?”

Steve’s question brought you hurtling back to the present and you shook your head, heart racing in your chest like it had that night in his pool. “Of course I remember,” you murmured, and you knew you were crossing a line, knew you shouldn’t have done it, knew Sam was just around the other side of the barn, but something in you snapped. Shifted. Decided it didn’t care and you took Steve’s hand in yours.

His eyes flicked down to where they were joined and then back up to you, “But–”

“We’re friends,” you reasoned softly, “Friends hold hands.”

“Are we?” he asked and you swore you felt your heart crack as your fingers scrambled to tangle up with his.

“Yeah. Yes. We are,” your words came spilling out, the beer spidering warm and hazy through your body as you tried to justify your action and Steve’s brows furrowed as he dropped his gaze.

“I should go,” he said and regret gripped you like a vice.

“Don’t, please don’t,” your tone was almost pleading, watching as Steve’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, working through his own decision and you thought for a minute he would cave like he always did for you, but then his hand was untangling from yours and the ache in your chest was almost enough to pull tears from your eyes.

“You’re getting married tomorrow,” he said, voice thick and low, and when he opened his eyes finally to look at you, you saw a thousand I’m sorrys, all the regret and lingering kisses on hot summer nights and promises whispered in the dark and you shook your head.

“But it’s not–we can’t–please stay,” nothing you said made sense and Steve ran a hand through his hair, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“Get some sleep. I’ll see you at the church.”

And as you watched his figure walk away, silhouetted and dark against the indigo sky, your star blinking bright above you, you felt tears finally well up and spill down your cheeks.

Sucking in a breath you turned back to the the wide open expanse of field behind you and buried your face in your hands, trying to calm down, willing the tears to stop, telling yourself that you loved Sam. You were getting married. The ring on your finger a constant reminder of what was supposed to happen tomorrow and when you finally lifted your head from your hands your eyes fell on a bright patch there in the field at your feet.

Wildflowers.

Walking back to the party felt like a blur, Steve’s words playing over and over in your mind, and when you came back into the glow of the strung up lights your eyes searched frantically for Sam. If you could just hold his hand, pull him in close you’d know you loved him. Would know you wanted to marry him, but he wasn’t there and everything felt like it was unraveling.

“Hey, are you okay?” Robin’s hand was at your elbow and when you looked up at her, her brow furrowed with worry. “Whoa, what happened?”

“I just need to find Sam, have you seen him?”

“Yeah, yeah I think he was just over here, c’mon. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I just need Sam,” you choked out, Robin’s hand grabbing yours and pulling you along.

“Okay, we’ll find him, it’ll be okay.”

And as you rounded the corner into the quiet of the barn you heard hushed voices. Robin flicked on the overhead lighting to reveal Carol and Sam talking, huddled close to one another and your heart stopped in your chest.

“Wha–Sam? Carol?”

Carol’s eyes went wide and she took a couple steps back, giving you one of her smiles, all flimsy and saccharine sweet. “Oh my god, we thought you left!” she exclaimed, trying a laugh and you heard Robin mumble something under her breath next to you.

“Well, I didn’t. It’s my rehearsal dinner.”

“Babe, we were just trying to plan a surprise for you. For tomorrow, that’s all,” Sam said, taking the few steps toward you, taking your hand in his, but you felt sick to your stomach. You knew that look in his eye, his tone of voice overcompensating for something, lying.

“Yeah! Totally,” Carol said a little too enthusiastically and Robin had had enough.

“Oh my god, totally great!” she mocked, throwing one of Carol’s empty smiles back at her before taking your hand. “It’s super late, Carol. Time to go,” this time Robin’s voice was void of all joking and the look she gave the other girl was enough to push her to leave.

“Absolutely, sure thing. See you tomorrow! Can’t wait,” she purred, but her smile faltered as she met your gaze, walking quickly back out into the night.

“Babe, we really were planning a surprise, I–I just want tomorrow to be perfect,” Sam took your hand from Robin, shouldering her out of the way and she scoffed, still lingering in case you needed her.

“In here? In the dark?” your voice wobbled a bit as you realized what you were implying and Sam squeezed your hand, but it felt suffocating not warm or safe like Steve and you pulled it away. “I’m gonna go home, get some sleep.”

“Of course, baby. Whatever you need,” Sam crowded around you, rubbing your shoulders and pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, but you didn’t want any of it and shrugged him off.

“Can you give me a ride, Robs?” you asked, pulling away from Sam, your feet not moving you fast enough.

“Yeah, yeah I can give you a ride,” Robin took your hand again, Sam finding himself alone in the wide expanse of the barn on the eve of your wedding.

The happiest day of your life.

“Listen, can I tell you something?” Robin said shifting into park as she turned down the radio and idled in your parents’ driveway.

“Sure,” your voice was small, timid, not you as your thoughts still lingered on what Steve had said. What Sam and Carol had looked like huddled close together in Hop’s barn. Asking yourself why. Asking yourself what you really wanted.

“I don’t think you should get married.”

Your head whipped up from your lap, brows knitted together. “What?”

“I don’t think you should get married,” Robin said again voice softer this time, knowing the weight it carried as she let it settle in the car between you.

“It’s literally happening tomorrow. What d’you mean don’t get married,” you were scrambling now, afraid of what would happen if you let her woods take root, the doubt that had been hovering deep down now pushing itself front and center.

“People do it all the time–”

“No, they don’t!” tears were welling up against your lashes, your face growing hot, willing yourself not to fall apart.

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry. Of course I’m gonna support you no matter what you decide,” Robin quickly recovered, grabbing your hands in hers as her expression softened. “Just–” a small sigh escaped her and she squeezed your hand, “–I want you to be happy. That’s all. Are you happy?”

Are you happy?

Robin looked at you, eyes wide, hands still holding onto yours and you felt yourself wrestling with the three simple words she’d thrown at you. Swallowing thickly, you couldn’t meet her gaze and pulled your hands away, grabbing at the door handle.

“I’m happy, I am,” and even you knew how flimsy it sounded, but your friend didn’t push you on it.

“Okay, okay. See you in the morning,” Robin said softly and all you could do was nod in reply before shutting the door and hurrying up the walk and into your parents’ house.

You didn’t bother showering as you moved quickly up the stairs to your room, not wanting to face your parents, not like this. Quietly shutting your door you felt the sob in your chest clawing its way up your throat and you tried to swallow it down as you threw back your covers and hid in the deep pile of blankets. You thought for a split second to call Sam over at Jason’s, ask him if he really loved you, if he still wanted to go through with this, but you buried your face into your pillow and tried to push your thoughts away.

Doubt had started blooming in the pit of your stomach from the moment you’d said yes, but it had just felt like the next right thing. Felt like you were supposed to. Date your boyfriend for a couple of years, move in together, get married. Right? But the things you tried hard to ignore kept bubbling up.

Your hesitation when Sam first asked you out. Your trips home on breaks and seeing Steve. The feelings you wrestled with when you saw him. When he talked to you and listened, really listened and looked at you. How it felt like a giant weight being lifted from your shoulders without Sam there.

Your first fight with Sam over money. How he spent so much of it going out with his friends. How you knew they stayed out late and talked to other girls. The high he got from it too much to stop him from doing it. The smell of the other girls on his clothes.

The first time he cheated on you and begged you to take him back. How the first person you wanted to call was Steve, but you called Robin instead.

And now the planning. All the disagreements and arguing and fighting and you were exhausted and he couldn’t even keep away from other women, from Carol, still after all that time.

Are you happy?

Robin’s question looped in your head and you knew the real answer.

No. But then…

Tap. Tap, tap tap.

Peeking your head out from under your covers your ears strained, trying to decide what it was you’d heard. Then it happened again.

Tap, tap. Tap.

There was only one thing that could make that sound, an all too familiar one that pulled forth a flood of precious, happy memories.

Rocks on your window.

Steve.

Crawling out of your bed you hurried to your window and yarded it open, sticking your head out and looking down like you’d done hundreds of times before. “Steve?” you hissed into the dark, and as the wind blew the clouds away from the moon, it shone down on the lawn below you washing Steve in soft light.

“Can I come up?”

You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, but knew there was no debate. “Yeah, hurry up,” and you moved out of the way as he started climbing the gutter before you’d even said yes.

Stumbling in through the open window Steve straightened up and dusted off his old, faded Hawkins High Athletics shirt, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging on his hips, the same pair of dirty, beat up Blazers on his feet.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly, tongue jammed into his cheek as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hi?” it came out expectantly, a question, but you couldn’t hide the relief in your voice at the sight of him standing there in your room.

“Listen, I just wanted to say sorry. For earlier,” he said, walking to your bed and plopping down on the messed up covers.

“Oh, that’s okay, I shouldn’t have–”

“Just let me apologize,” he said shaking his head with a half laugh, expression mismatched as it twisted with something between regret and care.

So you listened and kept your mouth shut, instead deciding to settle down next to him on your bed, thighs pressed together on the small twin sized mattress. Silence lingered for a minute, but the air was heavy, loaded, like how it felt right before a thunderstorm. The sky holding its breath before opening up and pouring rain, cracking the sky in half with bright streaks of light.

You both stole a look at the same time and it pulled a smile from each of you, tiny breathy laughs falling from your lips, but when it quieted again the tension flooded back in.

“Do you love him?” Steve broke the quiet and you felt your chest tighten. When you hesitated he grabbed your hand in his. “Do you?”

Your pulse fluttered against your neck, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water and stumbling and choking on your words, but you knew the answer. You both did. You’d just admitted it to yourself before Steve had fallen through your window and the familiar feeling of panic started to creep in around you, flinging you back to right before you’d left home again. Before you met Sam.

“Steve! Wait!”

You were practically running after him as he stalked back to his car, the sky on fire with the sunset and streaked in cherry reds, sunflower yellows, and bright tangerine.

He fumbled with his keys and dropped them into the grass at his feet, “Shit.”

“Please, just wait,” you were out of breath as you finally reached him and you saw his frame crumple as he loosed a sigh.

“Jesus, what?” his tone was short, clipped as he stared through his car window, your reflection playing against the glass.

“It’s only for another year, it’s not like I’m gonna be gone for–”

“Yeah! Another year!” Steve spun around to face you, cheeks red and lips pulled down into a frown, a muddied mixture of sadness and anger swimming in his eyes. “Just admit it, you don’t wanna come back here, and that’s fine! But don’t make me wait. Please don’t make me wait anymore. It–” Steve choked on his words and dropped his eyes to his feet, biting on the inside of his cheek to blunt the feelings swelling his chest. “It hurts. To sit and wait here for you. Please,” his voice edged on pleading and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“It’ll work! It’s just a little longer–”

Steve took a step into you, crowding over you, and you felt your heart stutter in your chest at the closeness of him. He lifted a hand to your cheek, his brows pulling together as he looked down at you, eyes searching yours. “Then be with me. If it’s not that long then be with me. Long distance for a little while until you’re done with school,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Steve. I can’t–” your throat tightened around what you were about to say, scared of what that commitment looked like, scared to fuck it up between you, scared to lose your best friend, but your hesitation broke it anyway.

He dropped his hand away from your cheek, tongue flicking out to run along his lips as he held back his anger. His sadness. Frustration. Snatching his keys from the grass he unlocked the driver side door and flung it open rough.

“No! Wait! I just mean–”

“No!” he shouted into his car and then lowered his voice, tears streaming silently down his cheeks, “No. No more. Good luck with…everything.” And he piled into his car, slamming the door shut and ignoring your cries as you crowded against his window, asking him to stay. To talk about it. To figure things out, but he shifted it in drive and took off down your driveway and into the night.

You weren’t going to fuck it up. Not again.

“No,” and as your admission left your lips the heavy weight that had settled on your shoulders over the last two years started to melt away. “No. I don’t love him.”

Steve’s hold on you tightened, pressing your fingers into his palm and he lifted his free hand to your cheek, eyes searching yours, “Don’t marry him.”

Don’t marry him.

Your breath quickened and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to reason out what you’d just decided and you felt anxious, but Steve was there. And your room was warm and safe. Just like it was when you were younger. When you both laughed and traded secrets and made promises to each other in the dark.

“But. The wedding. The flowers, the cake, the guests–”

“Fuck ‘em,” Steve said, still holding onto your hand, and his words swirled around in your head. “It’s only a wedding. This is your life,” brushing the rough pad of his thumb across your cheek you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, “You’re not happy.”

And you weren’t. You’d had moments with Sam, moments in time where things felt right and like maybe it could be forever, but they were just that. Moments. It shouldn’t be this hard. You’d sacrificed, compromised, bent and twisted yourself to be what Sam wanted, what he needed, not what you wanted and when you finally looked up at Steve you felt tears welling up against your lashes.

“What will my mom say,” your voice wobbled as you tangled your fingers with Steve’s and he gave you a small, reassuring smile.

“She wants you to be happy too. She’ll be okay.”

You were dizzy, hazy with thoughts of not being engaged anymore, buzzing with the anticipation of what this decision meant. Of what it held. What the future could be and you looked back up at Steve, tears started to quietly spill down your cheeks and his hand was quick to gently wipe them away. You shook your head, holding your breath, and when you let it go everything came tumbling out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for making you wait. For hurting you. For everything–”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Steve softly chided, but you pressed on.

“No, no it’s my turn,” you said, voice thick through your tears, and then you turned to cup Steve’s face in your hands. A small smile pulled up at the corners of your mouth even through your crying and you pulled in a breath, “I love you, Stevie. I always have.”

The look on his face then was one of pure adoration, of relief, and he gave you a smile back, “I know. I love you too.”

I love you too.

Pulling him into you, you felt the soft warmth of his breath across your cheek, the smell of his shampoo and fresh laundry flooding your senses. Hesitating, waiting for him to tell you it was okay and he silently answered you by leaning in and closing the gap between your lips, pressing his softly into yours.

It was slow and languid, a thousand I love yous. Years of want and aching set free into the dark of your room as you breathed each other in like air. The feeling of Steve scattering you out into the stars to live with the one you’d deemed as yours, falling between all the glittering constellations and floating in each other.

I love you too.

Reluctantly Steve pulled away from you, eyes fluttering open to look into yours and he took hold of your waist. “Run away with me,” he whispered.

Your brows pulled together, “Run away?”

“Yeah. Right now. Throw your suitcase in my car and we’ll just drive. Get away from everything, just for a little while until you’re ready.”

Mind racing, working through the logistics of what he was suggesting, you almost protested, but something in you fought back. Told you to listen to your heart, not your head. What did you want? What would make you happy?

“Okay.”

“Really?” Steve’s face lit up at your response, like he hadn’t expected it, and you felt your lips pull up into a smile, tears drying on your cheeks as you let the feeling swallow you up in its warmth. The embers in your chest crackling and flickering with life, with a fire that burned only for him.

“Yeah, yeah I don’t care. I just want to be with you,” you felt yourself grow more and more confident, more decided and Steve pulled you in again to press another kiss to your lips. This time it was hotter, bolder, a confession of passion and you grinned into him.

“C’mon, if we go now we can get coffee at that shitty diner just off the highway outside of town,” he was grinning now too.

“They make the best pancakes,” you laughed softly and Steve’s smile melted as he looked at you.

Finally.

He helped you gather your things, carrying your suitcase out to his car, and you felt like you could fly. Lighter than you’d been in years and the thought of just driving down the road with him filled you with warmth. Like watching the sun set at the end of a hot summer day. Like dipping your feet in the pool after sitting in the heat. Sweet like the taste that followed after a tart drink of lemonade.

You left your engagement ring on your dresser, a small folded note under it for Sam telling him sorry. Telling him you hoped he would find what he wanted. That you knew he’d be okay. And as you closed the door to your parents’ house you felt like you were closing that chapter. Ready to start new. To free fall into this open-ended story with Steve and as you settled into his car your eyes caught a small patch of lawn on the side of your house. Bright and soft in the moonlight and full of color.

Wildflowers.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

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oonajaeadira · 8 months

Text

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 3: Autumn

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Angst. Canon-typical tragedy (not main characters). Childbirth. A few names that may twist a knife.

Summary: You give Joel a lot to think about.

A/N: Set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although I claim the right to steal ideas and bits of cannon from the second game if I want to for plot reasons later.

It takes a lot to gain Joel's trust, and even longer to tame him. Thanks for sticking it out this long. We're finally shifting into acceptance mode.

“No, they do not make you look old. They make you look like Joel Miller in glasses. Just like the last five pairs. These are distinguished.”

“Looks like something my old man would have worn.”

“Your dad must have been a stunner. Assume the position. Bottom line.”

Turning him by his shoulders, you square Joel up to the line on the floor across from the eye chart at the back of the Jackson commissary.

“P…E Z O L C…F…T D.”

You pass him a handwritten note. “Good. Now use the bottom half of the lenses to read this one. Do it without squinting.”

Taking the paper, he squints. You pull on his arm to distance it correctly and he stops. He stares at the paper for a while. You might be concerned at the pause if he wasn’t taking a comically elongated time, breathing out hard through his nose, his jaw ticking left to right, feigning decisions, trying not to laugh. “Gimme a pencil.”

Without taking your eyes off him, you reach over to the counter and snag a pencil out of a cup and hand it to him, watch his eyebrows lift, his head shake, and give another dramatic sigh as he marks the paper before handing both the note and the pencil back over to you.

Joel Miller, will you go to the harvest dance with me? [x] yes or [ ] no.

“I don’t think these are gonna work,” he points to the black frames on his face. “Can’t read a damn thing. Not one damn word–” He can’t even make it through the sentence without cracking a smile, and only fully laughs when you playfully punch him in the arm.

“I’ll have you know this is a binding contract whether you can see it or not,” you join him in the tease, fanning the note in his face. “Just how blind are you???”

“Well, maybe I was working up to asking you the same question so…I guess not as blind as you seem to think.”

This slowly melts your laughter down to a smile. “Working up to it? What’s there to work up to? You mean… Did you…not want to?”

When his own smile fades, you realize too late that maybe he didn’t.

While you and Joel have fallen into a close friendship over the past few months, sometimes that’s all it really seems to be. There are moments that come close to something more–an arm draped over the back of your chair–or perhaps across your shoulders–as you stand in the back yard watching the fireflies, always a ready hand to help you up from a chair or the ground. If the two of you are ever in the same room, he’s always near, keeping you on his left where he can hear you. It took a while, but both Joel and Ellie have just stopped knocking when they come by, treating your house as they do Maria and Tommy’s–like family.

There are times he smiles in that way where his eyes shimmer and you think he’s coming around to falling for you. But he never pushes for more and you are beginning to wonder if he even wants that. After all, you’d learned from Tommy what life in a QZ can do to a person….and that’s on top of all the years the brothers spent surviving in some of the most violent and criminal ways possible.

Sometimes when you all sit out on Maria’s porch after dinner and watch the sunset together, he might take your hand in one of his–big, warm, roughened but gentle. And it’s at those times you almost forget about how he’d used it in the past. Almost.

With his bare hands, Tommy had said. Just come up behind ‘em and squeeze.

It takes time to become someone else. You always knew you’d need patience.

You just never braced yourself for something….a little less than affection.

“Listen, Songbird,” he sighs, his jaw shifting hard to one side. “I don’t want you to think–”

“Oh yeah, lookin’ goooooood,” Ellie’s opinion precedes your notice of her entrance. “Hey there, professor. I was looking for a book on relativity. Any suggestions?”

Pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose, he ignores her sass and turns instead to the commissary register to mark down the inventory he’s taking. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Maria?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, picking up an earthenware mug from a shelf and admiring the owl painted on it. “Her water broke. Baby’s coming. Can I claim this mug?”

“What??” Your body jerks, ready to run, but just barely holding back, shifting all the dismay you were just collecting and using it to power a new anxiety.

Joel’s head whips around, the glasses staying mercifully in place. “What are you doin’ looking for us? Go get Dr. Johnson!”

“Unclench yourself, my good sir. I already did. Went to her–” she says to him and then winks to you,”-- and Willa, thank you very much. You two didn’t tell me where you were going, you think I’m dumb enough to spend time hunting you down first? I’d be looking up and down Main forever. Have been. Almost went out back to see if you were eating spaghetti in the alley with one long noodle between you. Baby’s probably already here by now, jeez.” She spins on her heel, tapping the mug with a finger. “I’m taking this, thanks.”

Joel exchanges a look with you, the former conversation shoved roughly aside for a new concern. “I’ll register it and grab a few other necessaries. You go.”

This is no time to pick up the dropped dialogue but… maybe…should you stay and help? Oh. It takes a second to click that you can leave it to him. You don’t have to tell the man what’s needed for a new baby…after all, he knows more than you. Even if it was a whole other life or two ago.

And with a nod, you shelve your feelings for one more day and jog out the door to catch up with Ellie.

_____

Willa’s just walking out the door by the time you get to Maria and Tommy’s.

“You’re going?”

“For now,” she nods, working her shoes back onto her feet. “She’s got a while to go. It looks like it will be a pretty straightforward labor.”

“Did Dr. Johnson have anything to say?”

Her exhale tests high for irritation. “She’s upstairs. Why not go ask her yourself.”

“Wait. Willa. Did she send you away? I didn’t want to call her, but Joel thought–”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m going to go take a nap so I can get through the night. But she’s using up all the air in the room and what Maria needs is to rest as much as she can and let it come. A good midwife would know that. Too bad the medical authority in this town is a gastroenterologist and not an obstetrician. It’s a baby and she’s treating it like an obstructed bowel.” Muttering something further about obstructions and matters of the bowel in regards to Dr. Johnson, Willa pats you on the shoulder before making her exit. “Maria can have water for a couple more hours, then sips only. Make sure she eats something.”

Upstairs you find your old friend in full concentration mode–laying on her bed, eyes closed, breathing hard, forehead smooth but glistening–as she awaits the next contraction. Tommy’s curled up next to her, holding one of her hands, his forehead to her temple, matching her breath for breath.

Her other hand is being held aloft as the good Doctor checks her pulse. “Family only,” she condescends as you enter the room.

“Good idea,” you say, plonking down at the end of the bed with enough of a bounce that Maria opens her eyes and glares from behind her belly. When you point to her swollen feet and let your eyebrows request consent, she nods, shuts her eyes, and focuses back on the process as you take a foot onto your lap and start to massage.

Maria groans in contentment and Dr. Johnson takes it for discomfort. Turning to you, her silvery hair pulled back into a tight braid, her frown causes her jowls to deepen. “I really must insist that you clear the room. The fewer distractions she has, the better things are going to go for her.”

You pull your stockinged feet up onto the bed. “Is that how it was when you had kids?”

“I never had children,” the doctor snaps.

“I see. Well, Maria said she was gonna freak out if I wasn’t here, so it seems now we’ve got ourselves a conundrum between what the doctor says and the patient wants. But, seeing as how this is her second child and she is very much my family, I think I’m going with her wishes on this. I never got to meet the first one; I’m sure as hell not gonna miss a minute of my new godchild.”

“Who said you were going to be the godmother?” Maria grumbles.

“I did. It’s your own fault. You left the position open and nature abhors a vacuum, so I’m gonna plug my old ass into that hole.”

“You are mixing so many metaphors there. Where’s–nnnnn,” her face becomes a wall of teeth as the contraction hits, her body a live wire as you and Tommy move to soothe. It takes a good minute for her breathing to slow enough to ask, “Where’s…Willa?”

“She says she’ll check back in tonight. You’ll probably be at this awhile.”

“Well, then, if you’ve got your magic healing woman then I’m not really needed here,” Dr. Johnson’s smile only travels halfway up her face. “Blood pressure’s doing well, no signs of abnormality. I’m sure you’ll be just fine. If you need me, you know where to find me. Just send the foul-mouthed girl again. Certainly with a set of lungs like that, she can easily wake me up in a matter of minutes.”

Nobody stops the good doctor on her way out and the train of her passive-aggressive, attention-seeking attitude trails behind her.

“She means well,” Tommy answers your scathing look.

“Your wife didn’t ask for her.”

“My wife’s never been through labor without drugs before. And she’s older now. I just…” his eyes soften on her with concern as he leans in and presses a kiss to Maria’s forehead, “I just want her to be okay.”

“She’s Maria. Of course she will be.”

The subject groans with a minor cramp. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here and go make me a taco. I’m starving.”

She’s less than thrilled with the berries you bring instead– “water and fiber now, carbs later” –but is placated with you reading her to sleep from one of her favorite Amy Tan novels. Every now and then she wakes up with a contraction, but a little soothe in your voice and she’s out again.

After a few hours, Tommy goes to nap in a spare room and Willa returns with a bag full of clean linens, ready to take over, sending you out to get your own nap in.

It’s quiet downstairs, the setting sun throwing long shadows through the western windows, mixing with a few faint rainbows still filtering through the leaded stained glass over the door.

Maria’s not far from you in age. If there were still doctors in hospitals, they’d call her pregnancy not just geriatric, but advanced geriatric. Even with all the medicine that used to be available, she and the baby would still be under the care of several wary eyes. If they both make it, they’ll have beaten the odds. If they don’t–

Slumping down on the couch and pouring yourself over it–just to put your feet up and your head down for a second…just a second–you push worry out of your orbit. This isn’t a world to worry in anymore. What comes comes. All you can do is what you can do. Maria is strong. Tommy loves her. Willa’s capable. The baby’s on time. Everything’s going to be fine.

It has to be.

It hurts too much to consider an alternative.

_____

When your eyes open again, the house is dark and quiet, the sun long since set.

Although, not so quiet when your stomach growls. Nor so dark either, as you notice a faint glow coming from the kitchen.

A simple investigation leads you to a tea candle burning in a jar on the countertop, next to a scrap of paper with your name scrawled on it and a plate covered in a linen dishcloth, under which you discover a flatbread sandwich.

One look at the handwriting and you can imagine Joel coming by to check up on things only to find you asleep on the couch. There was no gentle-but-possibly-disruptive blanket-covering, no “thought you could use something to eat” beside your name on the note. Nothing but reverent candlelight and one word to let anyone who found the plate know for whom it was intended, no requests or commands, just a quiet devotion, a simple offering to a sleeping idol to be taken or left as you chose.

If he doesn’t want you to fall any harder for him, he’s doing a terrible job.

_____

The final labor comes the following morning, Tommy holding one of Maria’s hands and you the other–both of you gritting your teeth as her grip leaves bruises–and Willa holding the soles of Maria’s feet, giving her something to push against.

Joel’s been tasked with guarding the door to the house since Maria’s taken to screaming with each push–not in pain, but in ferocity–and the neighbors have been coming around in concern. He’s quick to turn them around and send them on their way and you’ve gathered from Ellie’s reports that they seemed offended until she started volunteering the information that Willa is upstairs helping out. Then everyone readily accepts that all is well and being taken care of.

But Maria, she’s the real star of the show here. Yes, she’s in pain, and yes, she’s tired and weeping–no tears, dehydrated–but she’s nothing if not a fighter. She wouldn’t be in Jackson without that being true. And, frankly, Jackson wouldn’t be Jackson if it weren’t true either.

When it’s all done and the delivery miraculously comes off without a hitch, when Willa checks the baby boy over and finds him responsive and healthy, ties him off and hands him over to Tommy, taking her leave to go wash up and rest, the room is eerily quiet.

“Hello, little man. I’m your dad,” Tommy whispers, on the edge of tears but too tired to cry as he sits next to Maria and shares the bundle with her, the two of them staring down in awe at the tiny new human. “I’m your dad, and this is your beautiful, strong, fantastic mamma. And your auntie’s here too and we’re all damn happy to meet you. Welcome home.”

Maria smiles wide, the pain already fading to memory, an unnecessary detail she’s gonna leave behind her in exchange for exponentially better days ahead.

“Good job, you three.” Adding to the kiss count on Maria’s head, you start to pick up some discarded towels and sheets, preparing to leave the new family to rest. “Did you finally agree on a name?”

“Oh, I think I settled early on,” Maria sighs, completely in love. “Riley.”

You hum in satisfaction. “Nice. Where’d that one come from?”

“Ellie suggested it and it just hit me right. It’s a good name for a boy or girl, but mostly I liked it because it’s a fighting name. All riled up and ready to go.”

“Sounds like trouble.”

Maria snorts. “Oh, I’m sure. After all, he is a Miller.”

“Damn right,” Tommy whispers, bestowing his legacy.

It’s an easy decision to make, your vow of silence. You’ll never let them know you feared losing her. Not when there’s more now to protect, more to love.

There's been enough fear. It isn't worth your time.

_____

Over the next week and change, a routine easily emerges. You make yourself available during the day for any needs–help with cooking, diaper washing, or just rocking Riley while Maria has a bath or Tommy needs a nap. After school, Ellie comes by and adds two more hands, truly turning childrearing into a village affair. Joel’s the last to add to the party after the sun starts getting low and construction on the new district slows down for the day, earlier if it’s his day for patrol. Every night is family dinner night now and sometimes Riley’s actually awake enough to join them.

Ellie can’t get enough of her new little friend. If she’s got empty hands she willingly fills them with baby, either rocking him or laying him on a cushion to watch him watching her. She’s not had a lot of experience with babies or newborns other than the lambs, but she’s a quick learner. It’s just one more thing that this harder world has deprived her of. Babies were few and far between in the QZ and Ellie seems bound and determined to make up for lost time, not wanting to miss an instant of growth or change.

Joel, on the other hand, is more stoic. If he was hard of hearing before, it almost completely disappears when Riley’s in the crook of his arm. He can’t help but be captivated by his new nephew and you catch a fond smile creeping along his cheek now and then, but there’s always something a little sad behind it, and when the light catches a glimmer off the face of his broken wristwatch, it’s not hard to guess what he’s thinking.

It’s during one of these moments when Maria’s napping and Ellie and Tommy are out in the yard, that you finish up the dishes and plop yourself down on the couch next to Joel.

“Your arm tired? Want me to take him?”

“No. I’m fine,” he says quietly, trying not to wake the boy. But the silence is more for himself than the baby–Riley sleeps hard. For now.

You simply draw a knee up onto the couch and lean your elbow against the back cushion, watching them, chin in hand.

“Where’s Ellie?” he finally asks.

“Enough leaves are down. Tommy’s out back showing her how to make a leaf pile. And what to do with it.”

He chuckles, knowing exactly what’s proper and good to do with leaf piles. “We used to have a big maple out back when we were kids. Dad spent hours raking and nothing he could say or do could keep us from demolishing his work. Whip our hides and we'd be back out there the next day making a mess.”

“Well, at least lawn maintenance isn’t such a priority anymore, right? Just think of all the leaf piles this one’s gonna get. Let the destruction commence.”

“Yeah.” It’s slow and subtle, but the light slowly leaks from him, a twilight descending over his brow. “I guess there’s still a few pleasures to be had for kids in this world.”

This is why he’s always so contemplative with Riley. Worrying. Taking everything he’s seen and experienced and piling them onto one little baby, doing the parent thing, hoping that they’ll have a better life…but doubting that it could ever happen.

“There’s always going to be something, Joel. If the world hadn’t gone to hell, there’d still be car accidents and kidnappers and war in some far off country and the capitalist job market. A kid has every chance to have a good life in this time as in any other. And even if it isn’t in the world we remember, this one has you and me and all of us in it to look after one little boy who gets to live a life. Isn’t that what’s great?”

“Is it?” He finally turns to you. “You think it’s a good idea to bring a kid into this disaster?”

His eyes lay bare the puncture you’ve made in him, his sorrow and apprehension starting to vent, and it seems he hopes you can patch the hole because god knows his hands are full and not steady enough to handle the delicate procedure.

“Hey. Kids are going to happen, Joel. People are still going to find each other and fall in love and I hate to break it to you, but babies are sometimes a consequence of that. Biology’s a hell of a thing. But just because it’s not the world we knew as kids doesn’t mean it’s not worth living in. In fact, Ellie and Riley are going to do better than us, because they were born into it. They’ll have all of this kind of living in their bones from birth and don’t have to take twenty years to relearn it all. Or use up twenty years living life with regret.”

You expect him not to take that well, but he surprises you, softens, and turns back to the baby, his eyes skipping to his watch.

Maria told you once that sometimes she’s glad that Kevin died. He was still young–only 3 and a half–but he would have remembered. He would have held trauma. Back then, a lot of the little ones were lost, either to hunger or to attack…they didn’t know enough to be quiet.

Sarah on the other hand…. Joel didn’t know it, but Tommy had said once that Sarah would have never made it in this world. Too good. Trusting. Gentle. She would have been taken advantage of or become severely damaged by the shift coming in her formative years. Children are resilient, but a teenager’s psyche could be a difficult thing.

“Still not a good idea,” he mumbles. “But he’s here now.”

“Thank god. Maria needed another man in her life to boss around.”

He’s not budged by your joke. Instead, he side-eyes you, hits you with a cynical question, trying to knock you off your rosy pedestal. “If you’re so happy about kids, why don’t you have any of your own?”

You shrug. “Got sheep. What. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what.”

“Not every woman wants kids, Mr. Man. Even if they like them a whole lot.”

“Biology’s a hell of a thing.”

Catching his not-so-clever info gathering, you smirk. “I had other things to concentrate on. And in the meantime, the factory had blessedly closed down.”

He can’t help the instinct that makes him truly assess you now. “You’re not old enough for that.”

You chuckle. “I’m starting to think what you don’t know about women could fill a few books, Joel Miller. You let me know when you’re ready to brush up.”

It’s at this point that Ellie calls in from the porch, telling Joel to “get your flat ass out here! Tommy says you’re a champion leaf-piler!”

“Goddammit,” he hisses as Riley starts to stir.

“Go on,” you smile, holding your arms out for the baby. “I’ve got him. We’ll need to wake his mamma up so he can eat soon anyway. Go on outside and play with the other kids. Be home before dark.”

_____

A few nights later, you’re making assessment in a full-length mirror on the inside of a closet door in a room in your house you very barely use. When was the last time you really had a look at yourself? And when was the last time you wore a dress?

Sure, it’s a fall dress, fine-knit by Addie as a gift for bringing her on as a Roostling so many years ago. You keep it for special occasions, which means you get to wear it maybe once a year. The wool is undyed, so the natural oat goes well with your brown leather work boots. Unfortunately, shoes are at a premium, so having a second pair just for fancy isn’t really a thing anymore. Doesn’t matter. The weather’s been a bit wet and the streets a bit muddy. Boots’ll do you just fine.

But you haven’t worn your hair like this in ages. Freshly washed and let to dry rather than set back or under a bandanna for utilitarian purposes, you almost forgot what it looked like natural like this.

You almost forgot that you could actually clean up quite pretty. Huh. Imagine forgetting a thing like that.

The knock at the front door’s expected. Even though Ellie and Joel come and go as they please, tonight you knew he’d do the polite thing and knock. The comfortable part of you wants to call down and tell him to just come in. But the hopeful part of you knows that this is his way of making an effort. Of taking a step your way.

“You sure?” you’d asked Maria earlier in the afternoon. “You’re gonna be okay for the night?”

“It’s a dance, not a trip to the moon. And Ellie’s here. We’ll have fun.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, clearly not happy about diaper changing duty, but smiling through it. “Please. Go. Get him out of the house. The later he comes home the better. Bonus points if he’s not back until morning.”

“Jesus, Ellie.”

Maria only smirked in full agreement.

He’s waiting on your porch when you open the door, one thumb tucked into his belt, the other holding onto a porch pillar as he examines the sole of one boot.

“You step in something?”

“Shit, I hope not. I just cleaned these. I thought–” but of course he stops when he looks up and sees you. Joel himself doesn’t have a lot of extra clothes, and is dressed in a clean dark flannel and jeans, nothing you haven’t seen before–although tucked in this time–his hair is still wet and slicked back, exposing more of the gray.

Your getup, however, is a new sight for him, and he’s struck enough to let it show on his face. So you give him a twirl, let the dress swing a bit. “Get your fill, I only bring this out like once a year. You’ve earned it this time.”

The smile is subtle, but it’s there, along with the tiniest of nods.

It’s not a long walk to the mess hall, but on your way you both determine that Joel’s definitely stepped in something, and yes, it’s still worth holding his hand. Horses are gonna horse and stepping in crap is an everyday occurrence when you live around animals at the end of the world. He seems grateful and maybe a bit chagrined, but neither does he seem ready to let you go.

The mess hall’s brightly lit; several jack-o-lanterns carved by the town’s kids adorn the long tables which spill out into the street to make room for the buffet and the dancefloor inside. A good portion of the town is out tonight and mingling under the canopy of string lights.

Addie and Goldie are the first to find you and greet you, the former admiring her own handiwork on your dress–even if she’s much improved over the years–and the latter pushing mugs of warm cider at you and Joel. Willa, it seems, took to the Roost short after Riley’s birth, always opting to take solitary watch during big gatherings and celebrations. But she did help with the decorations and is responsible for a good portion of the cornbread on the banquet table. When they start asking questions about the baby, Joel politely excuses himself, muttering something about getting you a plate.

“And how’re you doing?” Goldie asks, nodding after Joel. “I didn’t think that grump would warm up to anyone, but I suppose you’re tenacious enough when you want someone. I don’t blame you. Grey Fox indeed. If I was twenty years older, we’d have to share.”

“Yeah, he’s coming around.”

“Didn’t think you’d ever take up with anyone again. I heard Ellie had a run-in with the lye.”

A sudden lump rises, nothing you can’t swallow down. “She’s fine. And so am I. Maybe I'm a little lonely is all. Maybe I got a type. Here’s to hoping I’m wrong where it counts!” You smile wide, clinking your mug with Goldie’s and drink deep, chasing away whatever guilt rudely decided to come calling.

Tonight’s supposed to be happy. Tonight’s your night with Joel. Just you and him. No family, no interruptions. The past is the past. And this night is easily the first of many.

Soon enough you catch him waving you down at one of the tables and join him for dinner.

“Figured you weren’t picky, so I got you some of everything.”

“Hells bells, Foxy. Were you planning on dancing with me at all tonight? Because I won’t be able to move if I eat all of this.”

At least he swallows what he’s chewing so he can answer you between forkfuls. “Don’t worry. I’ll eat what you don’t.”

“Then how are you gonna dance?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t plan on gettin’ rowdy. Not with these knees.”

“Oh my god, you old man. Did you really come here with me just to sit and eat? There’s a band playing. And they’re good. You’re not gonna dance with me?”

“To be honest,” he says, straining above the chatter spilling out of the hall and taking another bite of chicken, getting it mostly down before continuing with a pained squint, “I was never good at it. One of those ‘stand around with a beer and watch the band play’ kinda guys. But a pretty girl wanted me to slow dance, I could do that. More swaying than anything.”

“Well I guess that’s something to look forward to then.”

“Good thing you’re easy to please.”

It’s another hour sitting at the communal table, the night settling in and the fiddle and guitar music rolling out from inside the hall. A few friends come by to visit, Missy Tippett makes her way to Joel’s right side to flirt and he pretends to hear her, answering all questions with a “yep” even if they aren’t yes or no queries and you do your best not to laugh. True to his word, Joel takes on the leavings of your meal–nearly half the plate–while you chat with folks, and he rises beautifully to the challenge. Without having to scrape and scramble in the QZ or starving out in the wilds, he’s put on weight since the spring, just enough to fill out his hollowed cheeks and pleasantly soften down his belly. He keeps active with the construction enough that he’s putting away more fuel than storage, but it’s good to see him enjoying the harvest.

You’re mid-conversation with one of Willa’s brothers when Joel taps a knuckle on your elbow. Turning to find him with his chin in his hand, he points inside of the mess hall where a slow song just started, an old Buddy Holly tune, True Love Waits. The time has come then. Like the worn shoe that he is, he gets up and re-tucks his shirt as you excuse yourself and then let him lead you inside to the dance floor.

He’s an old-schooler, guiding you close around your waist and taking your hand in one of his.

In all the time Joel and Ellie have been in Jackson what you’ve felt toward him was a strong pull, a crush, an attraction. It’s been years since you felt drawn to someone like this. But it isn’t until this moment that you actually register the ramp up and learn that your species of butterflies don’t really seem to reside in your belly, but behind your sternum. The tip of your nose and chin tingle with the proximity to his, his breath warm and apple-scented, his flannel smelling of soap and being dried in the sun. His hand fits perfectly at your lower back and your arm was made to curve up and around his sturdy, ample shoulder.

It’s that feeling where you can’t seem to look him in the eye for more than a fraction of a second for fear of losing control, and so you focus on his chin instead, yearning to land your lips there.

It takes most of the song to realize he’s doing the same with the top of your head.

You should say something; it feels odd not to be poking fun somehow. But then, you can’t think of a damn thing to say now that you’re exactly where you’ve been wanting to be all these many months. Well, nothing witty anyway.

“It’s been forever since I slow danced with anyone.”

“Out of choice, I assume,” he answers after a while. “Seems odd you being here so long and not spoken for.”

“Not everyone has to be paired up for life to be worth living.”

“Maybe not. But it looks like you want to and I’m not sure how anyone says no to you if you set your sights. You’re damn persistent.”

The song ends and you break to applaud, ready to quip back. But there’s a look on his face, and expression that you’re not able to categorize in the context of this moment, only that it looks like he might want to leave or be alone.

“Joel, I’m sorry if I pushed you. I know you’re still settling in. I didn’t mean to–”

But the next song starts up, sweet and slow–You Belong To Me–and he doesn’t give you a chance to finish. He just pulls you in close, tucking your head against his shoulder under his jaw, taking your hand again and holding it against himself.

“I’m settled,” is all he says as you sway.

Determination. That’s the expression. A commitment laced with lingering sadness or fear.

And that’s okay, you think. After everything he’s been through, that’s okay. As long as he wants to be here with me, everything’s going to be okay.

At the end of the song he peels away, and while the expression has softened, it still remains.

You reach for his hand. “You wanna walk?”

He nods. You let him lead.

Outside in the crisp autumn night air, he doesn’t take the direct path to your house, instead, he ambles slowly down another road, toward Maria and Tommy’s place.

Joel’s a thinker. He’s got things to say but needs to put them in order in his head first. So you let him organize while you walk slowly beside him, the light and the pretty violin ballad fading behind you. It takes a little longer than you expect and you’re almost to the house when he finally speaks.

“I’m not good at this.”

“You say that like there’s one right way. Like I’m expecting something out of you.”

It’s obviously not what he expected you to say. “But you are.”

“Okay, maybe. But I’m also willing to meet you where you are.”

“No, that’s not what…” he breathes out hard, frustrated that his thoughts are getting out of order, but you wait. “You should be…expecting…something. You should want me to…reciprocate.”

“I do want that, but I can’t force you and I know it.” You amble on, watch his jaw tick. “Joel, I’m crazy about you and I’d love nothing more than for you to feel the same way about me. It’s been a long time since I felt that way about someone. But I know it’s different for you. I know you were more recently attached, and for a long time–”

“It wasn’t like that. Well…wasn't like this, anyway.”

You follow him silently past Maria and Tommy’s place–dark, everyone asleep–and take a turn that will eventually lead you to your own house. A block goes by before he finds his next words.

“Tess and I…our lives…we were…rough with each other. Cared for each other, but we were hard. We had to keep on our toes, couldn’t let feelings get in the way or make mistakes. But all that…stuff… We had each other physically but we kept a lot at arm’s length. Like a survival mode. Conserving our energy for things that kept us alive. Safe.”

“I think I understand. Tommy said–”

“Tommy didn’t understand shit. He thought I was using Tess. But he was wrong.” Even if he’s keeping his voice even, his eyes cold, you can see his fist clenching and unclenching out of the corner of your eye. “I…I needed her and didn’t know it. She was right there and I should have… told her so. That’s what I think I’m saying. I don’t have any practice in anything that isn’t just surviving. And I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”

“Are you pulling a ‘you deserve better’ on me?”

Another look of surprise. Again, you’ve thrown him for a loop.

“Because I do deserve better. You’re right. I do deserve to be loved and to be adored and to be happy. But so do you. Most of us do. Doesn’t mean everyone’s gonna get it. Sounds like you spent the last decade and change denying it for yourself and to someone else. But at least you had someone. At least you knew where you stood. Me, on the other hand…I spent the last decade remembering something like that and wishing it would come back, knowing it wouldn’t, and beating off any chance of having it again like a damn fool. Maria ever tell you about Troy?”

His headshake is subtle, but his look of concern not so much. You decide to let it roll off you just as you had with everyone else in the past ten years.

“Figures. Tommy’s got a big mouth but Maria’s always kept her trap shut when it’s not her story to tell.

“Troy was my...husband. We were married for three really good years. He was a refugee, like you. Came through from Seattle QZ with his sister. Ash was a wild one, loved the sheep. She was the last trainee we had before Ellie came out. She had a habit of wandering though, hopping the barrier for berries and honey and just to run free in the woods without a care in the world. Almost cut her off from going out to the Meadow, but Troy spoiled her, took her side in most things. His only weakness. Damn, I loved that stupid man so much.”

Coming up to your house, you take a seat on the steps, not ready to go inside yet. As you continue, Joel follows your lead and ends up beside you.

“You ever wonder why Maria and I don’t live on top of one another? Troy and I lived in the house next door. Once he died, I couldn’t bear to live there anymore.”

The breeze picks up and you give it a minute to die down. Joel’s voice pushes through your silence just above a whisper. “What happened?”

“Troy and Ash were out at the meadow and they weren’t answering the check-ins. So Willa and I went out there with the patrol. Right away we see almost the whole herd gathered in one lay. Not like them unless they’re protecting a sick or injured one. And that’s what they were doing, all huddled around the hole.

“Can’t say for certain how it went down, but from the looks of things, Ash got herself bit, nearly took off her forearm. Back then the area wasn’t so cleared out and Ash liked to play her chances outside the barriers as I’ve said. Must have scrambled back in and come looking for Troy or he brought her back thinking he could fix it and found out he was wrong. He blew her face clean off. He must have dug the hole and put her in it. Covered it with lye. Got in there with her. Shot himself.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. Bodies were in pretty rough shape when we found ‘em.” The stars are bright tonight as you blink back tears in the dark. “I shouldn’t have let her go out there. I thought he would get her to take it seriously. I should have pushed. But. They were so close and I also know that I couldn’t ask him to choose my wants over hers. And in the end it looks like he wouldn’t have picked mine anyway.”

The power from the dam is being conserved for the harvest dance tonight, so the streetlamps are dark on your row. But the moon’s bright enough to catch Joel watching you, reassessing you.

“I’m very, very capable of deserving love, Joel. And I’m capable of giving it with my whole, stupid heart. I remember what the world used to be, and how it turned on a dime and how we all lost everything we were and had. And when I met Troy I thought that love could fix it. Nope. It doesn’t fix it. The past doesn’t go away. But it’s nice to have someone to walk through the better days with. To choose to live in the present and make it brighter.”

As if the world is an underscore to your story, one last, lonely cricket interrupts the silence, a holdout for the season, waiting a little too late to find itself a mate and a home.

“I’m a murderer, Songbird.”

It’s a simple statement.

“I know you are.”

“Just so you know. Just so you know what you’re getting into.”

Now it’s your turn to gather your thoughts. “We’re all a pile of our many selves. Who we were, who we choose to be going forward, how we see ourselves, how others see us. It’s all there, always will be. All of us a little broken. Fractured. But it doesn’t have to be just one thing forever. There’s no mark of Cain here. Just making choices every day to be the person you want to be. You find your people and you take care of them as best you can, and they do the same for you. You slip up, you start over tomorrow.”

And now it’s his turn to blink up at the night sky.

“You did what you had to do, Joel, we all did. We all had to revise the moral manual for a minute. Nice thing about Jackson these days is that there’s nothing you have to do. You can just do what you want, what makes you feel whole and alive. And if that’s something different every day, then that’s your choice. You say you’re not good at this, but you are. You danced with me. Walked with me. Listened. You’re just as good as you have to be and if you want to be better at it then you just...try again. You get unlimited tries.”

His expression is muddled in shadow, his face turned out of the light and focused on you.

Suddenly tired, you stand up and walk up the stairs to the door. “I had a nice time tonight, Foxy. The best. Even if it ended on a downer.”

“That’s my fault.”

“No. It’s nobody’s fault, it’s just what life is now sometimes. Will I see you tomorrow?”

He’s slow about it, but he climbs the last few steps to the porch. You were wrong about the solitary cricket; there’s still a few still pushing the limits, challenging the first frost, singing to the moonlight.

Reaching out, letting his fingertips trail your arm all the way down, he captures your hand to keep you still and moves in, slow and quiet.

When he finally kisses you, it’s a tentative declaration, a promise of what he can give right here, right now; his kiss lingers in apology, showing you in every way that he has trouble letting go, unpracticed in being tender, but he’s willing to try.

Finally.

Every second lingered is worth the wait, only because you can feel that it won’t be the last.

“Guess I shouldn’t put off until tomorrow what I can start on today then,” he says when he steps back.

“That's a real good start.”

There’s not much more to say as he makes his way down the steps off into the night and toward his own house. No need. No expectations. There’s always tomorrow.

And since Joel’s come to town, it seems like every tomorrow’s usually been better than the yesterday before.

_____

You’ve been sitting on Maria’s couch knitting a sweater in the chilly morning sun for at least a good hour when Ellie comes down from upstairs.

“Oh hey, you’re here,” she says, throwing herself down on the floor by your feet and beginning to paw through your basket.

“I am. Didn’t have any plans today, thought I’d come and be on hand. How’s Riley?”

“Down for one of many naps. He’s growing so fast already.” Finding a full spindle in your stash, she begins unwinding it and forming it into a neat ball with practiced hands.

“That’s what babies do. He’ll be walking and talking before you know it.”

“We should bring him out to see the sheep when he’s walking.”

“We’ve got a corral of milkers in town he can visit. Probably not a great idea taking kids out of town. You’ll see when he’s up and about. Little kids like get away from you and hear themselves scream. Hard to keep safe if you’re dumb and loud.”

“Oh. Right.” She’s silent a while, slowly building her yarn ball.

“Something you wanna ask me? It’s not like you to volunteer to help with this part.”

There’s a certain way Ellie chews her lip and scrunches it at the same time. “I was thinking of asking you…if I could stay behind next time you go out to the Roost.”

That makes you chuckle. “Riley’s a little more fascinating than the sheep right now, huh. What. You thought I’d be mad?”

“No, just…I do like being out there. But I also feel like I can help here. For now. And I know you’re skipping your weeks to be here and I thought if I stayed you could go and then there’s still enough of us around….”

“The sheep are in good hands, they can wait. I’m in no hurry and I don’t mind being here. But I appreciate it.”

The yarn’s coming to an end, the ball in her hands reaching a pleasing softball size. “Can I ask you a favor then?”

“Of course.”

“Tommy went out to the reconstruction site and left his lunch and Maria asked me to bring it to him so he doesn’t come home for it and wake her or the baby.”

“But you wanna stay here.”

“Yeah.”

“Good timing.” Smiling and finishing up your row, you tuck the needles and sweater into the basket. “It’s a nice, dry day for a walk and I’ve been meaning to go see that sector. Tell you what. Eye for an eye. I go out there, you ball up all those spindles while I’m gone. Don't undo my knitting."

What the autumn sun is lacking in warmth, Ellie makes up for it with that spark of unbridled joy. “Fuck yeah, deal!”

_____

Swinging a bundle bag full of Tommy’s lunch and other sundries, you walk out to the old north edge of town. The wall’s come down here, another one erected a handful of blocks beyond, re-civilization slowly sweeping and expanding out as the need arises. The houses are in varying stages of disrepair, repair, and some have come down to use for scrap. Your elementary teacher’s house is still here, getting a spiff-up treatment and you’re remembering Mrs. Erstine and her roses fondly when there’s a sharp whistle and call of your name.

Joel’s walking down the block toward you with an easy smile and you return it as he nears. It’s been a couple of weeks since the harvest dance and you haven’t seen each other much outside of family dinners and scattered evenings at Maria and Tommy’s’. Between the rush to get some of these homes fit for winter and you helping out with all the canning and preserving down at the mess hall, a twilight trio on the porch with Ellie here and there has been your scant means of together time.

“What’s brought you up this way? Everything okay?” He’s good enough to bend his neck a little so you can meet his patchy cheek in a kiss.

“Tommy forgot his lunch and Maria wants to spare him a trip.” You hold up the bag. “And I brought treats for you too.”

His finger hooks the bag, trying to peek in. “Really.”

“Nah ah, not until you take me to your leader.”

“My leader,” he scoffs, turning and leading you up the street. “Ain’t nothin’ he can do I don’t have to come up after him and fix.”

“Speaking of fixing, we could use new shingles at the Roost. It’s been wet and I’ve heard there’s a leak.”

“Yeah? When you going out next? I’ll go out with you.”

Turning onto a more wooded road, you both follow the sound of hammers. “Well, Goldie’s up there now and I usually take after her. I suppose I could go next week before the rains really start up.”

“Next week then.”

As you approach a beautiful A-frame home, Tommy’s over to one side at a couple of sawhorses, measuring out a beam. Joel calls out to his brother with the same whistle he gave you.

“It’ll be just you and me,” you say. “Ellie wants to stay home with Riley.”

Joel’s head whips around. “What?”

“Hey there, ma’am-o-jam, what brings you up here? Everything alright?” Just like his brother.

“Yeah, all’s well. You forgot your lunch and my legs needed a stretch.”

“Oh shit,” he grins. “I was just starting to get hungry. Thanks.”

“No problem.” You gesture to the house. “This is really beautiful. It’s like a bigger version of the Roost.”

“It’s nothin’ like the Roost. It’s on the ground.” Tommy smiles as you swat at him. “We’ve started with all the houses that need the least amount of help, tearing down the ones that need the most to fix ‘em up. This one had a lot of protection from the elements–the sun and the snow–from all these pines around it. All the windows still in place. Mostly just had to clear out a couple of overgrowths in the basement–probably the previous owners gone to seed. But it’s all good treated hardwood. Good bones. It’ll stand another century or two.”

A small, involuntary shiver passes through you at the casual mention of dead infected. “Did you burn them? The previous owners.”

Your reaction doesn't escape Joel’s notice. “Did it myself. There were a few in this section. It’s okay. They were long gone. Dry as a bone. It’s safe here.”

He’s earned a smile, even if it’s a sad one. “That’s good. They must have loved this house, to want to stay here, even when they didn’t know any better. Can’t blame ‘em. Anyway,” you go through your bag, lifting out a small parcel and handing the rest to Tommy, “here you go. But this is yours,” offering the parcel to Joel but then snatching it away as he reaches for it, “only if you promise to be honest and tell me if you like it or not.”

Joel’s eyes light up when he opens the package. “Holy shit; is that…pecan pie?”

And Tommy winks as he takes his lunch and walks back toward the house.

“Heard it was your favorite.” You can’t help but laugh at his big dumb grin. “Don’t be too excited! I obviously had to make every substitution. Walnuts for pecans, honey for sugar; it’s not exact, but it should be close enough. Been working on my bakes.”

Taking a bite, he shakes his head in what at first seems like pain but soon reveals itself to be the opposite. “Damn woman. And you only bring me one piece?”

“You’re a carpenter. That’s a triangle obviously cut out of a full circle. You know there’s more where that came from.” It’s a pleasure to watch him lose a battle against another big bite. “I take it you’re happy.”

His mouth full of sticky sweetness but the crow’s feet setting in, all he can do is chew and cock his head, looking you over as if to say, damn right I am.

_____

Joel’s quiet the whole ride to the Roost. It’s easy to guess what’s troubling him. A whole week alone should be exciting, but he’s worrying about expectations again and there hasn’t been much time to talk about it…or he just didn’t want to.

“Meadowlark to Goldfinch.”

“Present.”

“Bringing a Grey Fox in at the north gate.”

“Noted. You brought your own sheets I hope.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Joel’s frown and straightened shoulders as he suddenly loses the sympathetic gait with his horse. “Yup. Both sets. For two beds. Man’s here to work on that roof and I’m only payin’ him in food.”

“Ooof. Poor Joel. He deserves better.”

“Yeah, well I’m working on it. Boiled water last night and I didn’t even burn it.”

The banter seems to have relaxed him back into the saddle sag for the time being, and you keep it up until Goldie has you in her sights.

“I know you like sleeping under the stars, Foxy, but it’s been cold and wet. Bed’s yours. I’ll take the top bunk.”

“Fine,” he grunts.

“And you’re not allowed to go up on the roof unless I’m around to spot you.”

“I can handle it.”

“Oh, I’m sure, but my nerves can’t. And this is my domain. I’m the boss out here.”

This gets you one half serving of smile with a side of eyeroll. “Yes ma’am.”

Once you’re settled in, Joel descends the ladder and starts going through the woodpile, looking for adequate repair material, taking up the axe to split some logs for shingles while you go take a cursory round through the meadows.

The sheep are mostly on the near side by the copse of trees housing the Roost, keeping a tight flock, settled down and facing into the wind. A few bleat as you arrive but none of them skitter, allowing you to pat a couple as they chew cud and to check any for painted marks in case Goldie found one of them sick or lame. Other than one small ram that wants to playfully butt you in the thigh, all seems well. The rest of the flock is mostly down by the river and you take a little time to make some noise and shoo them toward the others before circling back to the Roost….

…which is where you find Joel Miller up on the ladder prying at rotted shingles.

“What the hell did I say, Cinnamon Roll?”

“Hold your britches,” he calls down. “I’m just assessing.”

“How am I supposed to get up there and you got the ladder?”

“Oh now we have a quandary,” he jokes. “What are you gonna do if I don’t let you up?”

“You think I haven’t slept out with the sheep before? I’d have no issue with it but that it’s gonna rain, so maybe you should let me up so I can help and make that repair go faster.”

Coming down and moving the ladder to the balcony drop, he scans the sky with doubts. “What makes you think it’s gonna rain?”

“Because I read sheep.”

“You read sheep.”

“Yeah. They spell it out like a marching band. RAIN. Big letters. Cursive. Could you just–”

The ladder comes sliding down with a thunk and you climb, taking his helping hand as you reach the top.

He smirks. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

All you can do is shake your head and hide your grin. “Don’t you dare. I’m gonna get my gloves.”

As he starts to heft the ladder back up, you go inside and quickly grab a wool hat and a pair of deerhide gloves from your pack. Turning to go back out though, a glint catches your eye near the door.

There’s a new nail in the wall.

With a broken watch hanging from it.

Huh.

This must be the place where he feels like he can be free of it and of the past you gather it represents for him. A special spot for it by the door where he won’t forget it when he leaves, somewhere he can see it if he needs it, but not carry it so much.

It’s a nice piece but for the hole. Well cared for. 2:40. You realize with a little regret that you missed the anniversary, that Outbreak Day no longer registers. Which means you also didn’t–

He doesn’t like to celebrate his birthday, Tommy once said.

It had come and gone without much fuss. But also without any noticeable misery. Railroaded by a new nephew and hard work.

That’s good. He’s not forgetting, just letting it rest. Someday it will be a good day again.

“You gonna get out here and hold this thing or what? You’re the one said rain is coming.”

“Not me. It was the sheep. Hold your britches or get a better belt. I’m coming.”

_____

A gentle roll of thunder wakes you in the night and the Roost is dark as you listen for a moment to the rain pattering against the roof slanting up and over you, inches away. Tuning in, you train your ear for a hard patter, a splotch, any indication that the roof patch didn’t hold, but of course it has. It was mended by Joel Miller himself.

Well, at least it’s dry, but damn, it’s chilly. A glance toward the little iron stove shows you nothing but darkness, which means the fire’s out. As much as it hurts to leave the little nest of warmth you do have, it’s probably better to relight it and warm the place by morning, so down the bunk ladder you go, being as quiet as possible.

Somehow, it's always comforting waking up at night at the Roost. Your house in town is too quiet at night, too full of the possibility of unfamiliar ghosts--of those that lived there, of the society it held, of your own loneliness. At least out here you feel held by the trees and needed by the sheep. There are ghosts buried out there in the meadow, but they're long gone now, part of the land itself, land that was always wild and free and full of the kind of life that wasn't destroyed all at once in one day. Night at the Roost is a quiet comfort, a place of purpose and sisterhood and family. It's full of wooden and woolen things made by hands you know and is welcoming to everyone, including the moonlight and the stars.

It takes a little doing with the wind up and you have to manipulate the flue a bit, but after a few minutes there’s a lovely crackling and smell of pine. Padding over to the chair by the window to snatch the wool blanket there, you stop for a minute to look out at the storm, trying to catch a glimpse of the sheep in a flash of lightning, but there’s not much of that to be had, so you wrap the blanket around yourself and make your way back to the bunk ladder.

“Sheep okay out there?” Joel mumbles in the dimness from his bed, somewhere near your knee.

“They’re fine. Did I wake you up?”

“No. Been listening to the rain a while. You cold?”

“Yeah. Fire went out. You?”

His answer comes in the form of something like a sail in the darkness and it takes a second to realize that he’s holding his blankets open in an invitation. “Come on. You’re gonna let the heat out.”

Sliding into Joel’s warmth is an easy decision to make. And it’s not just the warmth of his sheets, but that he brings the covers around you, pulling you all the way into his chest against his soft old undershirt, tucking you in under his chin, wrapping you up in his whole, woodsmoke-scented self.

Every tension in you simply melts into bliss.

Resting his lips against your forehead, his breath fans gently at your hair. “I could get used to this.”

A long hum rides out on your exhale. “I think I already am.”

“You’re a good woman, you know that?”

“Spoken like a true Texan.”

A long kiss presses into your forehead. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. I’m gonna do my best to be good again, Songbird. Hope I can be what you want.”

“That’s easier than you imagine. You’ve been what I want since you showed up around here, so I’m already quite pleased. Hope I can be what you want.”

A new warmth takes you over as he starts to spread his hand along your back, simply running over your contours, testing out what it’s like to hold someone this way, slowly caressing, lightly squeezing, tucking you in tighter. “You seem to know what I want before I even do. I look forward to finding out what I want next.”

“Well, I have to admit. Your brother tipped me off about the pecan pie.”

He laughs a little as he tips your chin up to meet you in a kiss in the dark. It’s hesitant but hungry; a long time needed and a long time savored.

“Did your sheep say it was supposed to rain all day?”

His hair and beard ruffle softly under your fingertips. “I didn’t ask, but I think it probably will. Sure hope that new roof holds.”

“We could always just stay right here and keep an eye on it.”

“See? You know exactly what you want. We can do that. I’d say that’s a good day’s work.”

His hand splays big and warm on your back, pinning you close for another kiss. “I tend to agree.”

_____

PREVIOUS: SUMMER

NEXT: WINTER (coming soon)

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

#leave off your wandering #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x meadowlark #joel miller x mature reader

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