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everything with you [steve harrington] NEW!
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Thank you so much for checking in. I wasn't doing terribly before this break I've been on, if you will, but I'm even better now. I've become more intentional about how I'm spending my time and thinking more about the future I want to cultivate for myself. If I may, I'll use your ask to present a candid glimpse into my life for others who may be interested as well...
Writing fanfiction was once something that took up a considerable portion of my free time because I enjoyed it, and because I wanted to put out stories I felt good about.
With that being said, I was doing a lot of "showing up" in fictional worlds, but I wasn't being as intentional about my own life. A similar pattern extended into my broader social media habits—always scrolling and feeling a false sense of involvement and progress because of my perceived proximity to the exciting and inspiring things I was viewing through a screen.
Art and creativity are everything to me, and there's irrefutable beauty in being able to enjoy and relate to films, TV, the lives of others, etc. In my case, however, there was an imbalance. I've since been finding said balance and learning how to show up in my own life so I can, in turn, be a better writer, observer, and participant in the world around me.
I've been contemplating a potential return to the fanfiction space. Certain themes don't resonate with me anymore, but I'd be happy to move forward and explore those that do.
If you've read this far, you owe it to yourself to create a life you love and respect even if you have to fight through distractions, uncertainty, and the limitations you've placed on yourself in your head. I believe anything is possible if you can envision it and put action behind it. Hold fast to your values and boldly go.
I refuse to be passive about my life. Fear, doubt, and procrastination have already stolen enough from me. I made this account 5 years ago when I was 19, and the quote I've had as my blog title has held up ever since:
pairing steve harrington x female reader [established relationship]
summary After a late-night conversation makes you contemplate the rest of your lives, you and Steve hit the road to escape your small town for a while [pregnancy scare, fluff, suggestive themes, wc 2.7k].
a/n first time writing for steve, and i figured a road trip fic was a good place to start. i'll forever enjoy writing couples who love and are present for each other. plus, a good motel scene never gets old. happy reading!
⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂
Beyond the window, the stars are a distant wonder where they shine in the night sky. So innumerable that anyone could get lost among them. Part of you wonders how travelers ever used them to find their way. You’re grateful all you’ve ever had to do is admire them from afar.
The bedsheets rustle as Steve shifts beside you. You can tell by his breaths that he’s awake too. When you extend your hand, it doesn’t take long to reach the warmth of his bare skin. With his back turned to you, he’s left to imagine how your face looks in what little light spills into the bedroom.
“Stars are out,” you murmur.
If the lights were on, the freckles peppered across his back would contest for your attention.
Your hand drifts from his side, around to the front of his stomach so that you hug him from behind. Your fingertips brush a featherlight trail across his tummy. Raised, webby scar tissue distinguishes itself from the smoother stretches of skin. Steve squirms and huffs a breath of laughter when you grace a sensitive spot along his waistline.
“Sorry.” You press a light kiss between his shoulder blades. “I love you.”
“Love you,” he rasps. “You okay?”
“Just thinking.”
He’s quiet for a while. “Well, don’t leave me hangin’.”
Steve hears the nerves woven into your quiet laugh, and rolls over to face you in hopes of chasing them away. A gentle hand settles on your hip, his thumb stroking back and forth. Even then, the words don’t come right away. It’d be easier if you didn’t care, but caring is all you’ve done from the moment you realized he was more than just a friend.
He runs a blind knuckle across your cheek. “Talk to me, pretty.”
“It’s nothing.”
Steve encourages you closer, an invitation you’ve never declined a day in your life. There’s not an ounce of shame in your body as you tuck your nose into his collarbones. He smells faintly of citrus as you breathe him in, skin warm like the summer you met him. He kisses your head once, twice, three times, then settles into the stillness. The air of the apartment still smells new. Boxes sit in the living room and kitchen.
“It’d be nice to get away,” you murmur after a while.
“Where?”
“Anywhere.” You think some more. “Drive with the windows down and leave Hawkins behind.”
Steve pictures himself behind the wheel with you riding shotgun, going nowhere yet everywhere; pit stops at scenic overviews, today’s hits on the radio, nothing but the open road through the windshield and rearview.
“There’s so much more out there, you know?”
Your wistfulness makes Steve’s touch still. “Are you not happy here anymore?” Curiosity flirts with concern, though his voice remains measured. "Gonna have to help me out here."
“You make me happy.”
Steve smiles, but it’s a little sad.
“I just worry if we start building our lives here, we’re never gonna leave.” You pause to shakily exhale. “And I can’t decide if that’s a good thing.”
In the wake of his silence, you speak up again, “Sorry for dumping this on you late at night.”
He squeezes your waist. “I asked.”
You smooth a hand down his chest as a deeper sense of guilt takes root in yours. Steve grasps your hand to still your movements, too intuitive for his own good.
“Is there something else?” he coaxes.
You shake your head despite the tenderness of his voice.
“You don't gotta carry everything on your own.”
So you let it go. “I took a pregnancy test earlier.”
On the outside, he’s the picture of steadiness as he turns on the bedside lamp and props up on his forearm. His eyes are a bit red from tiredness as he squints in the light. You have his full attention. A weak undercurrent of hope rides in his gaze.
“I took two, actually.”
His big eyes flick over your features. “I noticed you were late,” he says. “Thought it might be stress.”
“That probably is why,” you say. “Both tests came back negative.”
A flood of emotions wash over him, but they’re so intermingled that you can’t pinpoint which shines through the strongest.
“But for a second I let myself think what if,” you murmur. “What if they were positive and our lives were about to change forever?”
Moments ago, Steve had too. He swallows the lump in his throat, a muddled ball of disappointment and relief.
“So many questions played on a loop in my head.” You study his unwavering gaze. “Would we want to raise a child here? Are we even ready?” Steve wipes the lone tear that rolls down your cheek. “Despite everything, I wanted it anyway.”
He grasps for levity before anything else. “We were raised in Hawkins and turned out pretty alright.”
You can see his smile this time around, loving and contemplative. All you can think about is how gently he’d shoulder fatherhood. A life with him anywhere would bend in your favor and be worthwhile in the end.
“Guess so,” you chuckle wetly.
He cups your cheek. “Whatever happens, we’ll make it good.”
You always did.
Maybe a change in scenery is all you needed.
•••
Dave’s Diner is one of the few breakfast spots left in town. Two weeks later, you watch bare trees and evergreens alike pass by your window on the way there. Dry leaves fill yards and curbsides. Main Street is a shell slowly finding its way again; vacant storefronts are tucked among vibrant ones. Steve clicks his tongue upon pulling into the parking lot. The place is packed. Multiple heads float around inside, men stand out in the cold chatting and sipping on take-out coffees.
Inside, you’re met with a warmth that’s a welcome refuge from fall’s relentless chill. Despite the bustle, it doesn’t take long for your food to come out after you order.
Steve knocks a playful knee against yours when you reach across the table to steal one of his tater tots. Your sweet smile softens his gaze.
“You can have the rest if you want.”
You decline and look out the window. Outside, a cherry red pickup truck pulls out of a parking space. Steve follows your gaze to the license tag before he turns back to you. New York, the Empire State. A happy coincidence.
Sunlight bathes his features. Hair falls onto his forehead, his eyes look like honey in the light. Other diners continue to chatter, their silverware clinking against plates while the scent of bacon grease hangs in the air. He ushers a forkful of omelet into his mouth and washes it down with a sip of orange juice.
Steve smiles when you smile. You love him so much eight letters will never be enough.
Later, at the convenience store, Steve trails behind you with an armful of snacks for the road. Fluorescent lights, pop music, and a myriad of colors make for a lively atmosphere, but there’s still a slow, Hawkins sort of ease as you navigate down an aisle filled with trail mix variations. The bells above the front door ring as another customer files inside and greets the cashier with a booming hello.
“You like dried fruit, right?” you ask. “I always forget.”
“They’re the least fun snack, but sure.”
“We can’t eat junk the whole way to New York.”
Steve sighs in feigned dejection, then steals a kiss from the apple of your cheek.
•••
All is quiet when you awaken. No engine, tires against asphalt, or wind whistling through the windows. It takes a few blinks before you realize that a once blue sky now bleeds into pink and orange near the horizon. When you lift your seat upright, you see the sunset reflected in the water of the lake not too far away. You look at Steve, but he’s already looking at you. Warmth rushes to your cheeks when he holds up a Polaroid picture of you asleep.
“Did you get all that too?” you motion out the windshield and Steve laughs.
“Wasn’t necessarily a priority.”
You bite back a smile as you push your feet back into your Keds. “Where are we?”
“Just shy of Washington, Pennsylvania,” he says. “We’ll get a room for the night after dinner.”
“I’m an awful co-pilot.” You yawn, rubbing your eyes.
Steve wrinkles his nose. “You kidding me?”
The two of you get out of his Beamer to walk towards the shore of the lake. The gentle lap of the water is so serene that neither of you want to break the silence. Steve moves so he can wrap his arms around you from behind, hooking his chin over your shoulder. His hair tickles the side of your face. After a few seconds, he begins to sway side to side. You place your hands over his and trace his knuckles.
Leaves rustle above as a breeze combs through the trees. There’s a freshness to the air, though it very well could be a fashioning of your imagination. Away from Hawkins, everything feels exciting, and new. Like you and Steve were free to be whoever you wanted to be.
“Are we dancing?” you murmur, a hint of a smile in your voice.
“Mhmm.”
“What song?”
“You don’t hear the music?”
A laugh bubbles out of you, but it dwindles into a thoughtful hum. His arms tighten around you a fraction as he continues to sway. Your eyes slip closed. You can hear the music now.
•••
The night feels younger than the red numbers on the clock insist it is. The motel walls are so thin you’ve surely awakened whatever neighbors you might have. There hadn’t been many cars in the parking lot. The neon colors of the motel sign had reflected in the puddles on the asphalt. It began to rain several minutes before you exited off the highway. Perhaps you were virtually alone.
Steve can’t remember the last time his sides ached from laughing so hard. The original remark you’d made about the crappy TV got lost in translation five minutes ago, the conversation spiraling into whatever silly things came to your minds. Which turned into light jabs at each other. Which turned into recounting funny memories from back home.
Your place at the sink gives you a perfect view of where Steve is stretched out on the bed shirtless.
“Come brush your teeth with me,” you say, shaking your head fondly. Steve takes a few steadying breaths as he stares up at the popcorn ceiling.
He eventually joins you at the sink. He makes the mistake of meeting your gaze in the mirror. The glint of amusement still alive in your eyes makes him chuckle around his toothbrush. Despite closing his lips, toothpaste drips from his mouth and onto his hairy chest. All he can think about as you grab a neatly rolled hand towel and dab it away for him is that he used to be cooler. Leagues cooler. But he’d rather have this any night.
Steve kisses you once you’ve crawled into bed. You’re not expecting it, but you don’t complain when he pulls you over to straddle him where he lays, guiding your face down to his lips. His hands move to your waist, beneath the hem of your shirt, so he can knead your skin. Your body feels full of helium, like you would drift towards the moon if he were to let you go. His lips are reverent and warm.
When you pull away, he lets you instead of pulling back closer. You interlock your fingers and hold your joint hands in front of you as you study the man beneath you. Steve watches you watch him, eyes like dark pools. You lean forward and gently pin his hands to either side of his head. He lets you do that too. When he smiles, it’s a small upturn of his lips that leans towards curiosity.
“Promise me something?” Steve waits for you to continue. “We’ll be best friends for the rest of our lives.”
“Of course,” Steve breathes like it’s obvious. “That’s why I put a ring on your finger.”
You can’t help a small smile. “Wanna hear you say it though.”
“I promise,” he assures. “I want everything with you.” You let go of his hands and he places them on your thighs.
You kiss him again, starting at his lips before making a pillowy descent to the freckles on his throat. He swallows as you move lower, heat blooming in his cheeks and melting after you. Steve peeks down at the same time you look up at him, lips hovering at his stomach.
“It’s late.” Rather than to discourage or dissuade, he says it to let you know he’d be okay if you wanted to sleep. However, he can feel that the air has shifted in favor of the charge of want between you.
“Are you tired?”
“Not exactly.” A sparkle dances in his eyes.
“You’re such a boy.” You press a sweet kiss beneath his navel. “What am I gonna do with you?”
A lopsided grin stretches across his face as he shrugs. Both of you laugh again, softer this time. He watches through hooded eyelids as you tuck your fingers beneath the waistband of his pajama pants to pull them down.
•••
Pale sunlight. The gentle weight of Steve’s arm draped around your waist overtop of the sheets. When your eyes flutter open he’s already looking at you. The smile that starts across his face makes your chest feel so fluttery that you tuck your nose into your pillow to hide.
“Where’d you go?” His voice is raspy and warm with sleep. “Oh. There she is.”
You extend your hand to cover his mouth, but he grasps your wrist to press kisses to your palm, then down the rest of your arm as you giggle drowsily in your attempt to pull away. The sheets have dipped to reveal the top of your bare chest, and he swears you’ve never looked prettier. At some point later today, he’ll think the same thing. Then again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. There are no endings to the admiration of you.
“How much longer till New York?”
“Five hours,” he says. “Easy peasy.”
“Five more hours in a car with you?”
“Right?” Steve plays along. “I’m just the worst.”
His hand slips beneath the sheets to find your bare skin. You shiver as his thumb graces along the underside of your breast, gaze softening.
“You’re not the worst,” you murmur, reaching out to brush your finger over a freckle on his cheek, thinking back over the past few weeks. “I don’t know why I was ever so afraid.”
“It’s not like we’re human or anything.”
You comb some hair off his forehead. “You’re something else entirely.”
Kind, funny, and sincere in a way you’ve never known anyone else to be. You’d entered each other’s lives the summer of eighty-five when he worked at Scoops Ahoy and scooped you the wrong flavor. He’d been too busy staring the movement of your glossy lips to hear the words leaving them.
Your friends got a good laugh out of it, but you smiled and accepted the cone anyways. There was never any harm in trying something new. You went back for more a couple days later, and felt like the luckiest girl in the world when he asked for your number. He called you that evening when he got off work, still dressed like a sailor.
“What am I then?” he humors you.
You purse your lips to keep from smiling. “Haven’t put my finger on it quite yet.”
Steve snorts, amused and flattered all the same. “Let me know when you find out.”
If that day should ever come.
-
Thanks so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all!
pairing steve harrington x female reader [established relationship]
summary After a late-night conversation makes you contemplate the rest of your lives, you and Steve hit the road to escape your small town for a while [pregnancy scare, fluff, suggestive themes, wc 2.7k].
a/n first time writing for steve, and i figured a road trip fic was a good place to start. i'll forever enjoy writing couples who love and are present for each other. plus, a good motel scene never gets old. happy reading!
⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂
Beyond the window, the stars are a distant wonder where they shine in the night sky. So innumerable that anyone could get lost among them. Part of you wonders how travelers ever used them to find their way. You’re grateful all you’ve ever had to do is admire them from afar.
The bedsheets rustle as Steve shifts beside you. You can tell by his breaths that he’s awake too. When you extend your hand, it doesn’t take long to reach the warmth of his bare skin. With his back turned to you, he’s left to imagine how your face looks in what little light spills into the bedroom.
“Stars are out,” you murmur.
If the lights were on, the freckles peppered across his back would contest for your attention.
Your hand drifts from his side, around to the front of his stomach so that you hug him from behind. Your fingertips brush a featherlight trail across his tummy. Raised, webby scar tissue distinguishes itself from the smoother stretches of skin. Steve squirms and huffs a breath of laughter when you grace a sensitive spot along his waistline.
“Sorry.” You press a light kiss between his shoulder blades. “I love you.”
“Love you,” he rasps. “You okay?”
“Just thinking.”
He’s quiet for a while. “Well, don’t leave me hangin’.”
Steve hears the nerves woven into your quiet laugh, and rolls over to face you in hopes of chasing them away. A gentle hand settles on your hip, his thumb stroking back and forth. Even then, the words don’t come right away. It’d be easier if you didn’t care, but caring is all you’ve done from the moment you realized he was more than just a friend.
He runs a blind knuckle across your cheek. “Talk to me, pretty.”
“It’s nothing.”
Steve encourages you closer, an invitation you’ve never declined a day in your life. There’s not an ounce of shame in your body as you tuck your nose into his collarbones. He smells faintly of citrus as you breathe him in, skin warm like the summer you met him. He kisses your head once, twice, three times, then settles into the stillness. The air of the apartment still smells new. Boxes sit in the living room and kitchen.
“It’d be nice to get away,” you murmur after a while.
“Where?”
“Anywhere.” You think some more. “Drive with the windows down and leave Hawkins behind.”
Steve pictures himself behind the wheel with you riding shotgun, going nowhere yet everywhere; pit stops at scenic overviews, today’s hits on the radio, nothing but the open road through the windshield and rearview.
“There’s so much more out there, you know?”
Your wistfulness makes Steve’s touch still. “Are you not happy here anymore?” Curiosity flirts with concern, though his voice remains measured. "Gonna have to help me out here."
“You make me happy.”
Steve smiles, but it’s a little sad.
“I just worry if we start building our lives here, we’re never gonna leave.” You pause to shakily exhale. “And I can’t decide if that’s a good thing.”
In the wake of his silence, you speak up again, “Sorry for dumping this on you late at night.”
He squeezes your waist. “I asked.”
You smooth a hand down his chest as a deeper sense of guilt takes root in yours. Steve grasps your hand to still your movements, too intuitive for his own good.
“Is there something else?” he coaxes.
You shake your head despite the tenderness of his voice.
“You don't gotta carry everything on your own.”
So you let it go. “I took a pregnancy test earlier.”
On the outside, he’s the picture of steadiness as he turns on the bedside lamp and props up on his forearm. His eyes are a bit red from tiredness as he squints in the light. You have his full attention. A weak undercurrent of hope rides in his gaze.
“I took two, actually.”
His big eyes flick over your features. “I noticed you were late,” he says. “Thought it might be stress.”
“That probably is why,” you say. “Both tests came back negative.”
A flood of emotions wash over him, but they’re so intermingled that you can’t pinpoint which shines through the strongest.
“But for a second I let myself think what if,” you murmur. “What if they were positive and our lives were about to change forever?”
Moments ago, Steve had too. He swallows the lump in his throat, a muddled ball of disappointment and relief.
“So many questions played on a loop in my head.” You study his unwavering gaze. “Would we want to raise a child here? Are we even ready?” Steve wipes the lone tear that rolls down your cheek. “Despite everything, I wanted it anyway.”
He grasps for levity before anything else. “We were raised in Hawkins and turned out pretty alright.”
You can see his smile this time around, loving and contemplative. All you can think about is how gently he’d shoulder fatherhood. A life with him anywhere would bend in your favor and be worthwhile in the end.
“Guess so,” you chuckle wetly.
He cups your cheek. “Whatever happens, we’ll make it good.”
You always did.
Maybe a change in scenery is all you needed.
•••
Dave’s Diner is one of the few breakfast spots left in town. Two weeks later, you watch bare trees and evergreens alike pass by your window on the way there. Dry leaves fill yards and curbsides. Main Street is a shell slowly finding its way again; vacant storefronts are tucked among vibrant ones. Steve clicks his tongue upon pulling into the parking lot. The place is packed. Multiple heads float around inside, men stand out in the cold chatting and sipping on take-out coffees.
Inside, you’re met with a warmth that’s a welcome refuge from fall’s relentless chill. Despite the bustle, it doesn’t take long for your food to come out after you order.
Steve knocks a playful knee against yours when you reach across the table to steal one of his tater tots. Your sweet smile softens his gaze.
“You can have the rest if you want.”
You decline and look out the window. Outside, a cherry red pickup truck pulls out of a parking space. Steve follows your gaze to the license tag before he turns back to you. New York, the Empire State. A happy coincidence.
Sunlight bathes his features. Hair falls onto his forehead, his eyes look like honey in the light. Other diners continue to chatter, their silverware clinking against plates while the scent of bacon grease hangs in the air. He ushers a forkful of omelet into his mouth and washes it down with a sip of orange juice.
Steve smiles when you smile. You love him so much eight letters will never be enough.
Later, at the convenience store, Steve trails behind you with an armful of snacks for the road. Fluorescent lights, pop music, and a myriad of colors make for a lively atmosphere, but there’s still a slow, Hawkins sort of ease as you navigate down an aisle filled with trail mix variations. The bells above the front door ring as another customer files inside and greets the cashier with a booming hello.
“You like dried fruit, right?” you ask. “I always forget.”
“They’re the least fun snack, but sure.”
“We can’t eat junk the whole way to New York.”
Steve sighs in feigned dejection, then steals a kiss from the apple of your cheek.
•••
All is quiet when you awaken. No engine, tires against asphalt, or wind whistling through the windows. It takes a few blinks before you realize that a once blue sky now bleeds into pink and orange near the horizon. When you lift your seat upright, you see the sunset reflected in the water of the lake not too far away. You look at Steve, but he’s already looking at you. Warmth rushes to your cheeks when he holds up a Polaroid picture of you asleep.
“Did you get all that too?” you motion out the windshield and Steve laughs.
“Wasn’t necessarily a priority.”
You bite back a smile as you push your feet back into your Keds. “Where are we?”
“Just shy of Washington, Pennsylvania,” he says. “We’ll get a room for the night after dinner.”
“I’m an awful co-pilot.” You yawn, rubbing your eyes.
Steve wrinkles his nose. “You kidding me?”
The two of you get out of his Beamer to walk towards the shore of the lake. The gentle lap of the water is so serene that neither of you want to break the silence. Steve moves so he can wrap his arms around you from behind, hooking his chin over your shoulder. His hair tickles the side of your face. After a few seconds, he begins to sway side to side. You place your hands over his and trace his knuckles.
Leaves rustle above as a breeze combs through the trees. There’s a freshness to the air, though it very well could be a fashioning of your imagination. Away from Hawkins, everything feels exciting, and new. Like you and Steve were free to be whoever you wanted to be.
“Are we dancing?” you murmur, a hint of a smile in your voice.
“Mhmm.”
“What song?”
“You don’t hear the music?”
A laugh bubbles out of you, but it dwindles into a thoughtful hum. His arms tighten around you a fraction as he continues to sway. Your eyes slip closed. You can hear the music now.
•••
The night feels younger than the red numbers on the clock insist it is. The motel walls are so thin you’ve surely awakened whatever neighbors you might have. There hadn’t been many cars in the parking lot. The neon colors of the motel sign had reflected in the puddles on the asphalt. It began to rain several minutes before you exited off the highway. Perhaps you were virtually alone.
Steve can’t remember the last time his sides ached from laughing so hard. The original remark you’d made about the crappy TV got lost in translation five minutes ago, the conversation spiraling into whatever silly things came to your minds. Which turned into light jabs at each other. Which turned into recounting funny memories from back home.
Your place at the sink gives you a perfect view of where Steve is stretched out on the bed shirtless.
“Come brush your teeth with me,” you say, shaking your head fondly. Steve takes a few steadying breaths as he stares up at the popcorn ceiling.
He eventually joins you at the sink. He makes the mistake of meeting your gaze in the mirror. The glint of amusement still alive in your eyes makes him chuckle around his toothbrush. Despite closing his lips, toothpaste drips from his mouth and onto his hairy chest. All he can think about as you grab a neatly rolled hand towel and dab it away for him is that he used to be cooler. Leagues cooler. But he’d rather have this any night.
Steve kisses you once you’ve crawled into bed. You’re not expecting it, but you don’t complain when he pulls you over to straddle him where he lays, guiding your face down to his lips. His hands move to your waist, beneath the hem of your shirt, so he can knead your skin. Your body feels full of helium, like you would drift towards the moon if he were to let you go. His lips are reverent and warm.
When you pull away, he lets you instead of pulling back closer. You interlock your fingers and hold your joint hands in front of you as you study the man beneath you. Steve watches you watch him, eyes like dark pools. You lean forward and gently pin his hands to either side of his head. He lets you do that too. When he smiles, it’s a small upturn of his lips that leans towards curiosity.
“Promise me something?” Steve waits for you to continue. “We’ll be best friends for the rest of our lives.”
“Of course,” Steve breathes like it’s obvious. “That’s why I put a ring on your finger.”
You can’t help a small smile. “Wanna hear you say it though.”
“I promise,” he assures. “I want everything with you.” You let go of his hands and he places them on your thighs.
You kiss him again, starting at his lips before making a pillowy descent to the freckles on his throat. He swallows as you move lower, heat blooming in his cheeks and melting after you. Steve peeks down at the same time you look up at him, lips hovering at his stomach.
“It’s late.” Rather than to discourage or dissuade, he says it to let you know he’d be okay if you wanted to sleep. However, he can feel that the air has shifted in favor of the charge of want between you.
“Are you tired?”
“Not exactly.” A sparkle dances in his eyes.
“You’re such a boy.” You press a sweet kiss beneath his navel. “What am I gonna do with you?”
A lopsided grin stretches across his face as he shrugs. Both of you laugh again, softer this time. He watches through hooded eyelids as you tuck your fingers beneath the waistband of his pajama pants to pull them down.
•••
Pale sunlight. The gentle weight of Steve’s arm draped around your waist overtop of the sheets. When your eyes flutter open he’s already looking at you. The smile that starts across his face makes your chest feel so fluttery that you tuck your nose into your pillow to hide.
“Where’d you go?” His voice is raspy and warm with sleep. “Oh. There she is.”
You extend your hand to cover his mouth, but he grasps your wrist to press kisses to your palm, then down the rest of your arm as you giggle drowsily in your attempt to pull away. The sheets have dipped to reveal the top of your bare chest, and he swears you’ve never looked prettier. At some point later today, he’ll think the same thing. Then again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. There are no endings to the admiration of you.
“How much longer till New York?”
“Five hours,” he says. “Easy peasy.”
“Five more hours in a car with you?”
“Right?” Steve plays along. “I’m just the worst.”
His hand slips beneath the sheets to find your bare skin. You shiver as his thumb graces along the underside of your breast, gaze softening.
“You’re not the worst,” you murmur, reaching out to brush your finger over a freckle on his cheek, thinking back over the past few weeks. “I don’t know why I was ever so afraid.”
“It’s not like we’re human or anything.”
You comb some hair off his forehead. “You’re something else entirely.”
Kind, funny, and sincere in a way you’ve never known anyone else to be. You’d entered each other’s lives the summer of eighty-five when he worked at Scoops Ahoy and scooped you the wrong flavor. He’d been too busy staring the movement of your glossy lips to hear the words leaving them.
Your friends got a good laugh out of it, but you smiled and accepted the cone anyways. There was never any harm in trying something new. You went back for more a couple days later, and felt like the luckiest girl in the world when he asked for your number. He called you that evening when he got off work, still dressed like a sailor.
“What am I then?” he humors you.
You purse your lips to keep from smiling. “Haven’t put my finger on it quite yet.”
Steve snorts, amused and flattered all the same. “Let me know when you find out.”
If that day should ever come.
-
Thanks so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all!
summary after a dangerous patrol choice, joel gets a harrowing glimpse of what it would be like to lose you, and it haunts him following your return [angst, fluff, wc 4k]
a/n thanks so much to @mustachepascal for this lovely request. i had such an amazing time writing it, and i hope everyone enjoys!
↟ᨒ↟
A biting chill. It’s everywhere. In the air, beneath your skin. There’s nothing left of the sun’s warmth. A sky once blue has begun to darken into obsidian with no help to be found among the stars. Nevertheless, you watch them shine billions of lightyears away. Before Jackson, that was all long nights were made of.
One wrong turn is all it’d taken.
As another breeze blows through, you brace against the bark of the tree behind you. The zipper of your jacket has already reached the peak of its track, but even then you attempt to pull it up further.
On the brush of the forest floor lies your walkie with its dead batteries. Smoke from the small fire you started rises into the dark. Nova puffs a frosty breath out of her nose and blinks her big horse eyes at you.
Then you see it. Something beyond her.
Flashlights in the distance.
•••
Once, twice, many times more.
Ellie loses track of how many times Joel paces by. Later tonight, if she can find enough peace within herself to fall asleep, the swish of his jeans and the heavy clunk of his boots will follow her into her dreams. Beside her, Dina’s knee has stopped bouncing and now rests against hers. A tiny hole in the fabric reveals a sliver of her olive skin.
Everyone in the patrol HQ straightens to attention at the sound of heavy footsteps on the porch. Tommy pushes through the door.
“They’ve got her.” He holds up his walkie. “Found her about three miles shy of the canyon.”
He’s informing the room, but his eyes are on his brother. For the first time all evening, Joel is pulled from the whirlwind of his thoughts.
“She okay?” He’s already halfway to Tommy. “Who’s that on comms?”
“Jesse,” Tommy says. “She’s fine, just cold. Horse is alright too.”
Joel exhales in relief, throat still hot and tight. He’d worked up a cruel heat. Sweat darkens his sage button down beneath his underarms. His palms are clammy. The anxious storm in his eyes doesn’t subside despite the good news.
“Lemme talk to her,” Joel insists.
Tommy hesitates.
“Just need t’hear her voice.”
A beep emits as Tommy presses a button. “You there, Jess?”
Static crackles. “Here.”
“She okay to talk?” Tommy questions. “It’s Joel.”
Tension melts from his body as he’s given the walkie.
When word of your disappearance circulated to the commune, Joel was the first to spring into action. As if he didn’t have a lumbar sprain, and the physician hadn’t ordered to stick to low-impact activity. Adrenaline and anger frayed his every nerve. Anger over your group coming back without you. Anger at himself for giving you the itch to ever join patrol. Beneath all of that raged a steady undercurrent of fear.
Tommy paid the price for talking him down. Joel had shoved him. Hard. Got all in his face. Tommy was well within his right to retaliate, but instead wrestled Joel close and looked him in the eyes. He knew as well as anybody else that Joel wasn’t in the position to find you without destroying himself. Instead, a handful of younger men with specialized training were dispatched for the search.
Ellie and Dina straighten when Joel finally sits down. His lower back spasms in chastisement. For two hours he’d been pacing and inquiring about updates. Helpless, useless. He pinches the bridge of his nose and tips his head back against the wall behind him. It doesn’t help much.
Ellie picks at a small callous on her palm. “She sounded okay and everything?”
Joel nods after a while.
“I’m gonna go get you some water.” Dina’s on her feet before he can decline.
Restless, he leans forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. A slight wince twists his features. Ellie winces unconsciously.
“Are you okay?” Her voice is much softer.
Joel doesn’t answer right away. He promised he’d never lie to her again, and his silence provides an answer and spares his pride all at once. Concern radiates through the hand she places on his shoulder. If it were up to him, she’d never have to worry.
“I will be,” he decides.
Somehow, he always is in the end. She wonders how he manages time after time.
Dina stops in front of Joel, cup in hand. “Here ya go.”
He drinks until there’s nothing left.
Ellie rests her cheek on his shoulder.
•••
The fire is brilliant where it dances. Joel stokes the flames. You’ve stopped shivering. Your eyes track him as he makes his way back over to you, face aglow in the dim light of the living room. Between his brows is that familiar furrow you worry will one day become eternal.
Joel kneels to the floor before you, knees popping. There’s no doubt they protest against the hardwood. Nevertheless, his fingers undo your laces with a level of care that suggests they’re an extension of you. He pulls your boots off one by one and adjusts your socks after they skew.
Once all your outdoor layers are off, he drapes a blanket over your shoulders. You’re safe. You’re alive.
He takes a step back to look over you as if assessing a puzzle whose scattered pieces he just put back together.
“Are you warm enough?” He holds a hand in front of you to gauge the radiation of the heat. “You sure you don’t want a few crackers to get somethin’ on your stomach?”
You agree for his sake more than your own.
The cushions dip as he rejoins you on the couch with a few crackers cradled in a napkin. He hands you one and waits for you to bite into it, pleased when you do. The two of you sit like that for a while, him by your side as you accept crackers and chew.
Warmth permeates the room, chasing away the memory of the chill you desperately wanted to escape. But it doesn’t chase away the truth, with its talons and roots. Joel, in his ignorance, kisses your temple. The warmth it leaves behind feels like a mark you don’t deserve. Your own pride is what has given the night its jagged shape.
It’s a burden that follows you as you later lay in bed by each other’s side. Sleep never finds you. Joel can feel it in the air too.
“I left my group,” you murmur into the dark.
“Hmm?”
The mattress shifts when you don’t elaborate. Joel grunts as he stretches to turn on the bedside lamp. You squint at his perplexed features in the yellowed light. His browbone shadows his eyes.
“I thought I could catch up to Team A,” you continue. “They always make that turn right before the falls, so I hung back.” It sounds so foolish in hindsight that your cheeks prickle.
Joel pushes himself up against the headboard as if that’ll change the words you’ve spoken. He’d been under the impression that you’d fallen behind and got turned around because nobody was mindful enough to stick by your side.
“What were you thinkin’, sweetheart?” His throat works. “You know not to do that.”
You sit up. “Getting lost was never part of the plan.”
“That’s why you stick to the program.” His tone is tight now, firm. “No deviations. Ever.”
“It was one mistake.”
“That could’ve gotten someone killed.”
“But that didn’t happen.” It’s the only solace you have. “I’m fine, they’re fine.”
Despite how small your words come out, Joel shakes his head like there’s so much you’re missing. It’s late, his body aches, and being frustrated is much easier than admitting he can still feel the ghosts of terror and dread nestled beneath his skin. All he gleams from your response is carelessness. He can’t see that guilt and shame have swallowed you whole.
“That’s not the point,” he stresses.
All you can think to do is grasp for low-hanging fruit, “Well, you weren’t out there at all.” Your words falter with regret as you speak. They strike Joel between the ribs. “You, of all people, don’t get to lecture me about right and wrong.”
He huffs a surprised, humorless sound. The look he gives you is packed with so much exasperation and disbelief that you feel two feet tall.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
He holds your gaze, eyes darkening. Not with frustration; the depth can only belong to pain. An apology itches at the back of your throat, but he moves to turn the lamp off. The sheets rustle as he attempts to get comfortable.
“Joel,” you say.
Nothing.
“Joel?”
More of the same.
•••
Pale sunlight spills in through the windows of Town Hall. A picture of the Snake River hangs on the brick wall above the mantel of an unlit fireplace. Tommy addresses a crowd of thirty, Maria by his side observing the room with her all-seeing eyes. Patrol volunteers young and old fill the space. There hasn’t been a debrief this intensive in a while.
“All that to say, we’re real fortunate everybody’s alright,” Tommy concludes. In the front row, you nod and stare down to where you fiddle with your tweed bracelet. Dina and Ellie sit beside you. Joel stands along a wall.
“I’ll hand it over to Jesse for closing remarks,” he continues. “Props again to him for his leadership yesterday.”
Light applause raises.
“Yeah, no, thank you.” Jesse waits for the room to quiet. “That’s really all that matters, the fact that everyone made it back safely,” he starts. “I think the main lesson we take from yesterday is that it’s best to stick with your group and stay on your assigned routes.”
His eyes find yours. “We’ve all made poor judgement calls. I sure know I have.” A few chuckles rise. “But we learn from them and move forward.” Joel stares at the back of your head as Jesse speaks. “In the grand scheme of things, last night was one small droplet of disruption.”
A droplet that, in another life, could’ve cost Joel everything. He envisions Jackson without you and can’t make out a clear picture. He can’t see himself, Ellie, anyone, or anything he’s come to love in this beautiful little valley. It’s all a colorless blur. Toneless white noise. Nothing at all.
His stomach churns.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’re a valuable part of this team and we’re happy you’re safe. Things could’ve been a lot worse. You were smart to start that fire so we could see the light,” Jesse finishes.
Hums and claps of agreement sound from around the room. Ellie squeezes your shoulder. Before people raise from their seats and flitter about, Joel pushes off the wall and heads for the front doors. You look over your shoulder in time to catch one last glimpse before he disappears.
•••
Dead leaves float in the water of the bird bath in the chapel backyard. Joel watches them swirl. It’s quiet save for conversation in the distance, life persisting.
After yesterday’s debrief, he hadn’t seen much of you in the afternoon because he’d drawn away. You’d opted to sleep at your uncle’s, which you hadn’t done since you moved in with Joel.
He straightens at the sound of someone clambering out the back door. Dina catches her balance when she gets off the stairs and on to level ground. The box hugged in her arms is nearly half her height, filled with string lights. Green wires, slender white bulbs. Joel meets her where she is.
“I got it, kiddo.”
“Nope.” She twists away. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
“It’s a bunch ‘a lights.”
She drops the box. “Here’s good anyway.”
Joel sets his hands on his hips, fixes her with a look. She smiles, cheeks rosy, a sparkle in her eyes. “They’re gonna put ‘em up in the trees.” She motions to the dormant cottonwoods. “I’m supposed to untangle them and all that jazz.”
“Where’s your partner in crime?”
“Combat training in the barn.” She wrinkles her nose. “Which I was not feelin’ today.”
“Want some help?”
Dina fetches a couple folding chairs to sit in as they untangle. She doesn’t acknowledge the cloud hanging over him that has stiffened his shoulders and made his gaze contemplative. Clouds weren’t always such a terrible thing. Sometimes life called for them so sunshine could be appreciated all the more.
She snickers when Joel grumbles over not being able to work his thick fingers into a particular knot. His gaze flicks over to her, and he smiles despite himself, shaking his head.
She motions for him to pass it over, and it’s almost comical how effortlessly she unravels the knot. The beaded bracelets on her wrist remind him of an evening in Austin many moons ago, helping Sarah make friendship bracelets for her birthday party goodie bags. Dina notices his noticing.
She holds her wrist up and pinches one of them. “This one says I’m awesome.” Then the other. “And this one says survive. Ellie has endure.”
Endure and survive.
“If I made you one would you wear it?” Her eyes sparkle as she asks.
“Yeah,” he says easily. “Long as it ain’t somethin’ mean.”
“I would never.” Dina feigns offense. “Does old-timer count as mean?”
Joel chuckles and Dina joins in.
They finish before long, laying the lights in neat lines across the tan grass. Joel returns to his chair, stretches his long legs out in front of himself, and closes his eyes.
No sooner does Dina gasp and clap a hand over her mouth. He follows her pointed finger. Two birds with black and white dualtone heads have perched on the rim of the stone bath, their beaks taking quick small sips. A smile pulls at his lips at her delight.
“Chickadees,” he notes quietly.
“They’re so cute,” Dina whispers. She’s disappointed when they fly up into one of the trees.
She returns to her chair beside Joel. “What were you doing out here before?”
“Lookin’. Nice view of the mountains.” He shrugs. “Thinkin’ too, I guess.”
Dina briefly looks out at their snow-capped peaks. She’s always been observant. “It’ll be okay. One day at a time, right?”
That’s all there ever is to it.
•••
You’ve lived fifty lifetimes by evening. Chatter and laughter rise all around, but not once do you lose yourself within it. Most of the people gathered at the Tipsy Bison are here to celebrate whatever good happened in their lives today. You’d merely needed to get out of your uncles house. Tommy had long noticed that you’re miles away.
He finishes his whiskey, nudges your shoulder, and leans in. “Wanna step outside?”
It’s cold. Your breaths come out frosted in the porch lights. Both of you lean on the balcony rail. Out in the commons, people flitter about under the moonlight. Two boys sword fight with sticks as their mothers talk and laugh.
Tommy chuckles to himself. “Just like Joel and I when we were kids.” For the first time all evening, a genuine smile pulls at your lips. “Eventually got to the point where it wasn’t fun anymore ‘cause he stopped letting me win. I was a sore loser.” He’s quiet for a beat. “Reckon I still am.”
A light chuckle escapes you before you can stop it, and Tommy looks proud of himself. You never thought he and Joel looked terribly alike, but every once in a while you’re reminded they’re kin by the look in their eyes. They both had a way about their gaze that led you to believe they could see down to the core of anything.
“You scared him real bad,” he says after a quiet while. “Haven’t seen him that shaken up since…”
Sarah.
“He was the first person to jump into action.” The look on your face lets him know you hadn’t particularly been aware. “With barely any information, at that.”
That sounds like Joel. Always ready to dive in headfirst and find his footing along the way. Tommy runs his finger over a small smiley face carved in the railing.
“But I told him no,” he says. “He hated me in the moment, but Jackson needs him healed.” You chew the inside of your cheek and look down at your boots. “There’s no doubt in my mind he could’ve found you on his own, though.”
Tommy gets a more thoughtful look about him and exhales. “Guess what I’m gettin’ at is, a little patience and compassion goes a long way.”
A few people file out of the bar in a burst of energy. You and Tommy wave them off into the night.
“My brother’s a hardass, but he loves you even harder.”
•••
From upstairs, Joel hears Tommy bid you goodnight. The front door clicks shut behind you. The hardwood creaks as you take off your shoes and ascend the stairs. You slow as you near the bedroom. When you push inside, your footsteps are even more cautious because all the lights are off.
“Joel?” you whisper. “Are you still awake?”
He can’t bring himself to open his mouth because he doesn’t know what to say. He wasn’t expecting you back tonight even though every part of him had held out hope.
He clings to the swish of your clothes and the metal clink of your belt as you change in the closet. Then to the running water as you complete your night routine in the bathroom. Any other night, he’d be right by your side or watching with an easy smile on his face. Afterwards, he feels like the worst person in the world as you crawl into bed and snuggle close despite everything.
He hadn’t been able to sleep without you by his side. Tonight there’s a chance he’ll find rest
A stillness settles, and he forgets you know him better than he’s allowed anyone else. All his rhymes and rhythms, ticks and tells. Enough so that, try as he might, you know he’s not asleep. The clock hasn’t even struck eight. It’s early even for him. Without you here, there had been nothing else to do but attempt to fall asleep.
You tuck your nose into his back. He smells good, freshly showered with almond goat milk soap. You’ve missed his proximity so much that you wouldn’t care if he continued to pretend.
You remember Tommy telling you how Joel would’ve came for you if nothing stood in his way. You think about how tenderly he cared for you upon your returned, how much gentleness was packed within such strong, capable hands.
The hair on his arms raise when you drape an arm over him from behind and feel under his shirt. His stomach jumps at the lightness of your touch gracing along his waistband. His breath catches when your hand ventures over the front of his pants to feel the heavy warmth of him just beneath. The need for connection masquerades itself as embers of desire flickering in your chest, and this is the easiest way you can think to ease the ache.
Joel hips shift when you toy with the drawstring of his sweatpants.
He gently pushes your hand away so he can sit upright and turn the lamp on. It’s a repeat of the other night except now, when he meets your gaze, there’s no frustration, no blame. Before he can say anything, you wrap your arms around him. It’s an awkward angle, but neither of you can bring yourselves to mind. Joel rests his chin on the top of your head. You smell like fresh air.
“I’m sorry,” you repeat, pressing a kiss to his throat. Then another.
Joel holds you, and for a moment, you worry that silence has prevailed again. He chases it away with a heavy exhale.
“I love you.” His words come out thick and gruff. “So much it scares me sometimes.” It feels like there’s cotton in his chest, his throat. That was true of every time he revealed a fraction of his heart. Almost as if his body was trying to create a buffer to protect itself from the aftermath.
He sniffs away what can only be unshed tears.
“Thought I was gonna lose you.” He swallows thickly. “I can’t lose you.”
Joel loosens his hold so you can look up at him. His dark eyes are shiny and imploring like he’s been cracked open somewhere inside. “Promise me you’ll never do that again.”
“I promise.”
His lips meet the top of your head in a kiss that lingers. He shifts thereafter, eyebrows furrowing in a restrained wince. You frown as you pull away.
“Is it your back?” you ask softly.
Joel offers a reluctant hum.
“Lemme help.” You briefly cup his cheek. “Take off your shirt.”
He only hesitates for a second.
By the time you reemerge from the bathroom with a small container of arnica balm, he sits with his legs over the side of the bed, shirt draped across the nightstand. You don’t need to tell him to reposition onto his stomach.
Carefully, you straddle his rear. “Is this alright?”
He nods, eyelashes fluttering as you spread the balm over the broad expanse of his back. His skin is peppered with scars, freckles, moles here and there. Years worth of stories gathered in one place. Joel tucks his nose into the pillow with a throaty sound when you dig your thumbs into the base of his spine, applying pressure as you run them upwards along either side. You do that several steady times, then, as if kneading dough, push the heels of your palms into his low back and rub outwards towards his sides.
You eventually scoot a little higher up his body, rubbing more balm over his shoulders. Your hands settle on his trap muscles as you work your thumbs upwards towards his neck. A full-chested hum rumbles through him.
“Feels good?”
“Yeah,” he rasps.
You lean down to press a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear.
It isn’t much longer before he drifts asleep.
•••
A blue haze outside the window. Fresh snowfall. The freckle on Joel’s tricep is more interesting. You trace your finger over it as sleep still has its hold on him. Both his hands are tucked under his pillow. Ellie’s laughter sounds from downstairs, followed by Dina’s. They don’t hang around for long. Soon, the walls vibrate as they head out the front door to whatever adventure awaits. Joel’s eyelashes twitch, and you pause your tracing.
“Good morning,” you murmur.
“Mornin’.” His eyes flutter open, voice smoky with sleep. Last night comes back to him as he studies the fondness in your eyes.
“Knocked you out pretty good, huh?”
Joel smiles shyly as you lean in to kiss his freckle.
“Guess what the girls made.”
Joel hums in question, watching you roll over to reach for your nightstand. He gives your waist an affectionate squeeze. When you resettle, he can’t believe what’s in your grasp.
“It was Dina’s idea.” You hand him a beaded bracelet that says forever. “Mine says always.”
Warmth stirs in his chest. Then he notices a third and reaches for it. Old timer. When his expression flattens, you break into the sweetest laughter. Joel pretends he’s unimpressed, but he’s touched by all of it. Dina’s thoughtfulness. The bracelets. You. A quick pinch to his hip is all it takes for that smile you love to stretch across his face.
Satisfied, you comb a hand through his silvering hair. Joel presses into your touch like he knows he will for the rest of his days.
-
Thanks for much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all!
And as always, your wonderful, thoughtful phrasing that paints scenes in front of my eyes with a delicate yet precise brush.
When Joel said I love you, I almost cried.
You capture emotions beautifully. How fear can sometimes grip so deeply that just admitting to it is impossible. How other emotions, like anger, swoop in to take its place instead.
What a wonderful read. Thank you for sharing this. 🤍
summary after a dangerous patrol choice, joel gets a harrowing glimpse of what it would be like to lose you, and it haunts him following your return [angst, fluff, wc 4k]
a/n thanks so much to @mustachepascal for this lovely request. i had such an amazing time writing it, and i hope everyone enjoys!
↟ᨒ↟
A biting chill. It’s everywhere. In the air, beneath your skin. There’s nothing left of the sun’s warmth. A sky once blue has begun to darken into obsidian with no help to be found among the stars. Nevertheless, you watch them shine billions of lightyears away. Before Jackson, that was all long nights were made of.
One wrong turn is all it’d taken.
As another breeze blows through, you brace against the bark of the tree behind you. The zipper of your jacket has already reached the peak of its track, but even then you attempt to pull it up further.
On the brush of the forest floor lies your walkie with its dead batteries. Smoke from the small fire you started rises into the dark. Nova puffs a frosty breath out of her nose and blinks her big horse eyes at you.
Then you see it. Something beyond her.
Flashlights in the distance.
•••
Once, twice, many times more.
Ellie loses track of how many times Joel paces by. Later tonight, if she can find enough peace within herself to fall asleep, the swish of his jeans and the heavy clunk of his boots will follow her into her dreams. Beside her, Dina’s knee has stopped bouncing and now rests against hers. A tiny hole in the fabric reveals a sliver of her olive skin.
Everyone in the patrol HQ straightens to attention at the sound of heavy footsteps on the porch. Tommy pushes through the door.
“They’ve got her.” He holds up his walkie. “Found her about three miles shy of the canyon.”
He’s informing the room, but his eyes are on his brother. For the first time all evening, Joel is pulled from the whirlwind of his thoughts.
“She okay?” He’s already halfway to Tommy. “Who’s that on comms?”
“Jesse,” Tommy says. “She’s fine, just cold. Horse is alright too.”
Joel exhales in relief, throat still hot and tight. He’d worked up a cruel heat. Sweat darkens his sage button down beneath his underarms. His palms are clammy. The anxious storm in his eyes doesn’t subside despite the good news.
“Lemme talk to her,” Joel insists.
Tommy hesitates.
“Just need t’hear her voice.”
A beep emits as Tommy presses a button. “You there, Jess?”
Static crackles. “Here.”
“She okay to talk?” Tommy questions. “It’s Joel.”
Tension melts from his body as he’s given the walkie.
When word of your disappearance circulated to the commune, Joel was the first to spring into action. As if he didn’t have a lumbar sprain, and the physician hadn’t ordered to stick to low-impact activity. Adrenaline and anger frayed his every nerve. Anger over your group coming back without you. Anger at himself for giving you the itch to ever join patrol. Beneath all of that raged a steady undercurrent of fear.
Tommy paid the price for talking him down. Joel had shoved him. Hard. Got all in his face. Tommy was well within his right to retaliate, but instead wrestled Joel close and looked him in the eyes. He knew as well as anybody else that Joel wasn’t in the position to find you without destroying himself. Instead, a handful of younger men with specialized training were dispatched for the search.
Ellie and Dina straighten when Joel finally sits down. His lower back spasms in chastisement. For two hours he’d been pacing and inquiring about updates. Helpless, useless. He pinches the bridge of his nose and tips his head back against the wall behind him. It doesn’t help much.
Ellie picks at a small callous on her palm. “She sounded okay and everything?”
Joel nods after a while.
“I’m gonna go get you some water.” Dina’s on her feet before he can decline.
Restless, he leans forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. A slight wince twists his features. Ellie winces unconsciously.
“Are you okay?” Her voice is much softer.
Joel doesn’t answer right away. He promised he’d never lie to her again, and his silence provides an answer and spares his pride all at once. Concern radiates through the hand she places on his shoulder. If it were up to him, she’d never have to worry.
“I will be,” he decides.
Somehow, he always is in the end. She wonders how he manages time after time.
Dina stops in front of Joel, cup in hand. “Here ya go.”
He drinks until there’s nothing left.
Ellie rests her cheek on his shoulder.
•••
The fire is brilliant where it dances. Joel stokes the flames. You’ve stopped shivering. Your eyes track him as he makes his way back over to you, face aglow in the dim light of the living room. Between his brows is that familiar furrow you worry will one day become eternal.
Joel kneels to the floor before you, knees popping. There’s no doubt they protest against the hardwood. Nevertheless, his fingers undo your laces with a level of care that suggests they’re an extension of you. He pulls your boots off one by one and adjusts your socks after they skew.
Once all your outdoor layers are off, he drapes a blanket over your shoulders. You’re safe. You’re alive.
He takes a step back to look over you as if assessing a puzzle whose scattered pieces he just put back together.
“Are you warm enough?” He holds a hand in front of you to gauge the radiation of the heat. “You sure you don’t want a few crackers to get somethin’ on your stomach?”
You agree for his sake more than your own.
The cushions dip as he rejoins you on the couch with a few crackers cradled in a napkin. He hands you one and waits for you to bite into it, pleased when you do. The two of you sit like that for a while, him by your side as you accept crackers and chew.
Warmth permeates the room, chasing away the memory of the chill you desperately wanted to escape. But it doesn’t chase away the truth, with its talons and roots. Joel, in his ignorance, kisses your temple. The warmth it leaves behind feels like a mark you don’t deserve. Your own pride is what has given the night its jagged shape.
It’s a burden that follows you as you later lay in bed by each other’s side. Sleep never finds you. Joel can feel it in the air too.
“I left my group,” you murmur into the dark.
“Hmm?”
The mattress shifts when you don’t elaborate. Joel grunts as he stretches to turn on the bedside lamp. You squint at his perplexed features in the yellowed light. His browbone shadows his eyes.
“I thought I could catch up to Team A,” you continue. “They always make that turn right before the falls, so I hung back.” It sounds so foolish in hindsight that your cheeks prickle.
Joel pushes himself up against the headboard as if that’ll change the words you’ve spoken. He’d been under the impression that you’d fallen behind and got turned around because nobody was mindful enough to stick by your side.
“What were you thinkin’, sweetheart?” His throat works. “You know not to do that.”
You sit up. “Getting lost was never part of the plan.”
“That’s why you stick to the program.” His tone is tight now, firm. “No deviations. Ever.”
“It was one mistake.”
“That could’ve gotten someone killed.”
“But that didn’t happen.” It’s the only solace you have. “I’m fine, they’re fine.”
Despite how small your words come out, Joel shakes his head like there’s so much you’re missing. It’s late, his body aches, and being frustrated is much easier than admitting he can still feel the ghosts of terror and dread nestled beneath his skin. All he gleams from your response is carelessness. He can’t see that guilt and shame have swallowed you whole.
“That’s not the point,” he stresses.
All you can think to do is grasp for low-hanging fruit, “Well, you weren’t out there at all.” Your words falter with regret as you speak. They strike Joel between the ribs. “You, of all people, don’t get to lecture me about right and wrong.”
He huffs a surprised, humorless sound. The look he gives you is packed with so much exasperation and disbelief that you feel two feet tall.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
He holds your gaze, eyes darkening. Not with frustration; the depth can only belong to pain. An apology itches at the back of your throat, but he moves to turn the lamp off. The sheets rustle as he attempts to get comfortable.
“Joel,” you say.
Nothing.
“Joel?”
More of the same.
•••
Pale sunlight spills in through the windows of Town Hall. A picture of the Snake River hangs on the brick wall above the mantel of an unlit fireplace. Tommy addresses a crowd of thirty, Maria by his side observing the room with her all-seeing eyes. Patrol volunteers young and old fill the space. There hasn’t been a debrief this intensive in a while.
“All that to say, we’re real fortunate everybody’s alright,” Tommy concludes. In the front row, you nod and stare down to where you fiddle with your tweed bracelet. Dina and Ellie sit beside you. Joel stands along a wall.
“I’ll hand it over to Jesse for closing remarks,” he continues. “Props again to him for his leadership yesterday.”
Light applause raises.
“Yeah, no, thank you.” Jesse waits for the room to quiet. “That’s really all that matters, the fact that everyone made it back safely,” he starts. “I think the main lesson we take from yesterday is that it’s best to stick with your group and stay on your assigned routes.”
His eyes find yours. “We’ve all made poor judgement calls. I sure know I have.” A few chuckles rise. “But we learn from them and move forward.” Joel stares at the back of your head as Jesse speaks. “In the grand scheme of things, last night was one small droplet of disruption.”
A droplet that, in another life, could’ve cost Joel everything. He envisions Jackson without you and can’t make out a clear picture. He can’t see himself, Ellie, anyone, or anything he’s come to love in this beautiful little valley. It’s all a colorless blur. Toneless white noise. Nothing at all.
His stomach churns.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’re a valuable part of this team and we’re happy you’re safe. Things could’ve been a lot worse. You were smart to start that fire so we could see the light,” Jesse finishes.
Hums and claps of agreement sound from around the room. Ellie squeezes your shoulder. Before people raise from their seats and flitter about, Joel pushes off the wall and heads for the front doors. You look over your shoulder in time to catch one last glimpse before he disappears.
•••
Dead leaves float in the water of the bird bath in the chapel backyard. Joel watches them swirl. It’s quiet save for conversation in the distance, life persisting.
After yesterday’s debrief, he hadn’t seen much of you in the afternoon because he’d drawn away. You’d opted to sleep at your uncle’s, which you hadn’t done since you moved in with Joel.
He straightens at the sound of someone clambering out the back door. Dina catches her balance when she gets off the stairs and on to level ground. The box hugged in her arms is nearly half her height, filled with string lights. Green wires, slender white bulbs. Joel meets her where she is.
“I got it, kiddo.”
“Nope.” She twists away. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
“It’s a bunch ‘a lights.”
She drops the box. “Here’s good anyway.”
Joel sets his hands on his hips, fixes her with a look. She smiles, cheeks rosy, a sparkle in her eyes. “They’re gonna put ‘em up in the trees.” She motions to the dormant cottonwoods. “I’m supposed to untangle them and all that jazz.”
“Where’s your partner in crime?”
“Combat training in the barn.” She wrinkles her nose. “Which I was not feelin’ today.”
“Want some help?”
Dina fetches a couple folding chairs to sit in as they untangle. She doesn’t acknowledge the cloud hanging over him that has stiffened his shoulders and made his gaze contemplative. Clouds weren’t always such a terrible thing. Sometimes life called for them so sunshine could be appreciated all the more.
She snickers when Joel grumbles over not being able to work his thick fingers into a particular knot. His gaze flicks over to her, and he smiles despite himself, shaking his head.
She motions for him to pass it over, and it’s almost comical how effortlessly she unravels the knot. The beaded bracelets on her wrist remind him of an evening in Austin many moons ago, helping Sarah make friendship bracelets for her birthday party goodie bags. Dina notices his noticing.
She holds her wrist up and pinches one of them. “This one says I’m awesome.” Then the other. “And this one says survive. Ellie has endure.”
Endure and survive.
“If I made you one would you wear it?” Her eyes sparkle as she asks.
“Yeah,” he says easily. “Long as it ain’t somethin’ mean.”
“I would never.” Dina feigns offense. “Does old-timer count as mean?”
Joel chuckles and Dina joins in.
They finish before long, laying the lights in neat lines across the tan grass. Joel returns to his chair, stretches his long legs out in front of himself, and closes his eyes.
No sooner does Dina gasp and clap a hand over her mouth. He follows her pointed finger. Two birds with black and white dualtone heads have perched on the rim of the stone bath, their beaks taking quick small sips. A smile pulls at his lips at her delight.
“Chickadees,” he notes quietly.
“They’re so cute,” Dina whispers. She’s disappointed when they fly up into one of the trees.
She returns to her chair beside Joel. “What were you doing out here before?”
“Lookin’. Nice view of the mountains.” He shrugs. “Thinkin’ too, I guess.”
Dina briefly looks out at their snow-capped peaks. She’s always been observant. “It’ll be okay. One day at a time, right?”
That’s all there ever is to it.
•••
You’ve lived fifty lifetimes by evening. Chatter and laughter rise all around, but not once do you lose yourself within it. Most of the people gathered at the Tipsy Bison are here to celebrate whatever good happened in their lives today. You’d merely needed to get out of your uncles house. Tommy had long noticed that you’re miles away.
He finishes his whiskey, nudges your shoulder, and leans in. “Wanna step outside?”
It’s cold. Your breaths come out frosted in the porch lights. Both of you lean on the balcony rail. Out in the commons, people flitter about under the moonlight. Two boys sword fight with sticks as their mothers talk and laugh.
Tommy chuckles to himself. “Just like Joel and I when we were kids.” For the first time all evening, a genuine smile pulls at your lips. “Eventually got to the point where it wasn’t fun anymore ‘cause he stopped letting me win. I was a sore loser.” He’s quiet for a beat. “Reckon I still am.”
A light chuckle escapes you before you can stop it, and Tommy looks proud of himself. You never thought he and Joel looked terribly alike, but every once in a while you’re reminded they’re kin by the look in their eyes. They both had a way about their gaze that led you to believe they could see down to the core of anything.
“You scared him real bad,” he says after a quiet while. “Haven’t seen him that shaken up since…”
Sarah.
“He was the first person to jump into action.” The look on your face lets him know you hadn’t particularly been aware. “With barely any information, at that.”
That sounds like Joel. Always ready to dive in headfirst and find his footing along the way. Tommy runs his finger over a small smiley face carved in the railing.
“But I told him no,” he says. “He hated me in the moment, but Jackson needs him healed.” You chew the inside of your cheek and look down at your boots. “There’s no doubt in my mind he could’ve found you on his own, though.”
Tommy gets a more thoughtful look about him and exhales. “Guess what I’m gettin’ at is, a little patience and compassion goes a long way.”
A few people file out of the bar in a burst of energy. You and Tommy wave them off into the night.
“My brother’s a hardass, but he loves you even harder.”
•••
From upstairs, Joel hears Tommy bid you goodnight. The front door clicks shut behind you. The hardwood creaks as you take off your shoes and ascend the stairs. You slow as you near the bedroom. When you push inside, your footsteps are even more cautious because all the lights are off.
“Joel?” you whisper. “Are you still awake?”
He can’t bring himself to open his mouth because he doesn’t know what to say. He wasn’t expecting you back tonight even though every part of him had held out hope.
He clings to the swish of your clothes and the metal clink of your belt as you change in the closet. Then to the running water as you complete your night routine in the bathroom. Any other night, he’d be right by your side or watching with an easy smile on his face. Afterwards, he feels like the worst person in the world as you crawl into bed and snuggle close despite everything.
He hadn’t been able to sleep without you by his side. Tonight there’s a chance he’ll find rest
A stillness settles, and he forgets you know him better than he’s allowed anyone else. All his rhymes and rhythms, ticks and tells. Enough so that, try as he might, you know he’s not asleep. The clock hasn’t even struck eight. It’s early even for him. Without you here, there had been nothing else to do but attempt to fall asleep.
You tuck your nose into his back. He smells good, freshly showered with almond goat milk soap. You’ve missed his proximity so much that you wouldn’t care if he continued to pretend.
You remember Tommy telling you how Joel would’ve came for you if nothing stood in his way. You think about how tenderly he cared for you upon your returned, how much gentleness was packed within such strong, capable hands.
The hair on his arms raise when you drape an arm over him from behind and feel under his shirt. His stomach jumps at the lightness of your touch gracing along his waistband. His breath catches when your hand ventures over the front of his pants to feel the heavy warmth of him just beneath. The need for connection masquerades itself as embers of desire flickering in your chest, and this is the easiest way you can think to ease the ache.
Joel hips shift when you toy with the drawstring of his sweatpants.
He gently pushes your hand away so he can sit upright and turn the lamp on. It’s a repeat of the other night except now, when he meets your gaze, there’s no frustration, no blame. Before he can say anything, you wrap your arms around him. It’s an awkward angle, but neither of you can bring yourselves to mind. Joel rests his chin on the top of your head. You smell like fresh air.
“I’m sorry,” you repeat, pressing a kiss to his throat. Then another.
Joel holds you, and for a moment, you worry that silence has prevailed again. He chases it away with a heavy exhale.
“I love you.” His words come out thick and gruff. “So much it scares me sometimes.” It feels like there’s cotton in his chest, his throat. That was true of every time he revealed a fraction of his heart. Almost as if his body was trying to create a buffer to protect itself from the aftermath.
He sniffs away what can only be unshed tears.
“Thought I was gonna lose you.” He swallows thickly. “I can’t lose you.”
Joel loosens his hold so you can look up at him. His dark eyes are shiny and imploring like he’s been cracked open somewhere inside. “Promise me you’ll never do that again.”
“I promise.”
His lips meet the top of your head in a kiss that lingers. He shifts thereafter, eyebrows furrowing in a restrained wince. You frown as you pull away.
“Is it your back?” you ask softly.
Joel offers a reluctant hum.
“Lemme help.” You briefly cup his cheek. “Take off your shirt.”
He only hesitates for a second.
By the time you reemerge from the bathroom with a small container of arnica balm, he sits with his legs over the side of the bed, shirt draped across the nightstand. You don’t need to tell him to reposition onto his stomach.
Carefully, you straddle his rear. “Is this alright?”
He nods, eyelashes fluttering as you spread the balm over the broad expanse of his back. His skin is peppered with scars, freckles, moles here and there. Years worth of stories gathered in one place. Joel tucks his nose into the pillow with a throaty sound when you dig your thumbs into the base of his spine, applying pressure as you run them upwards along either side. You do that several steady times, then, as if kneading dough, push the heels of your palms into his low back and rub outwards towards his sides.
You eventually scoot a little higher up his body, rubbing more balm over his shoulders. Your hands settle on his trap muscles as you work your thumbs upwards towards his neck. A full-chested hum rumbles through him.
“Feels good?”
“Yeah,” he rasps.
You lean down to press a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear.
It isn’t much longer before he drifts asleep.
•••
A blue haze outside the window. Fresh snowfall. The freckle on Joel’s tricep is more interesting. You trace your finger over it as sleep still has its hold on him. Both his hands are tucked under his pillow. Ellie’s laughter sounds from downstairs, followed by Dina’s. They don’t hang around for long. Soon, the walls vibrate as they head out the front door to whatever adventure awaits. Joel’s eyelashes twitch, and you pause your tracing.
“Good morning,” you murmur.
“Mornin’.” His eyes flutter open, voice smoky with sleep. Last night comes back to him as he studies the fondness in your eyes.
“Knocked you out pretty good, huh?”
Joel smiles shyly as you lean in to kiss his freckle.
“Guess what the girls made.”
Joel hums in question, watching you roll over to reach for your nightstand. He gives your waist an affectionate squeeze. When you resettle, he can’t believe what’s in your grasp.
“It was Dina’s idea.” You hand him a beaded bracelet that says forever. “Mine says always.”
Warmth stirs in his chest. Then he notices a third and reaches for it. Old timer. When his expression flattens, you break into the sweetest laughter. Joel pretends he’s unimpressed, but he’s touched by all of it. Dina’s thoughtfulness. The bracelets. You. A quick pinch to his hip is all it takes for that smile you love to stretch across his face.
Satisfied, you comb a hand through his silvering hair. Joel presses into your touch like he knows he will for the rest of his days.
-
Thanks for much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all!
hello Hannah:) first of all just wanted to thank you for making an exception on accepting my request, I would love for you to be the one to write it ✨✨💓💓
the concept is where jackson!joel and the reader get into a argument about her going on a dangerous patrol without his knowing and the situation gets so intense that joel facial expression changes to something that reader hadn’t seen before (not directly with her) so she says something like “dont look at me like that” and then joel gives her the silence treatment for a couple of days… the reader tries to seduce him thinking it’s the only way to end his bitterness but Joel isn’t buying it easily, so then when they finally made up joel says “ i cant lose you, please dont do that again”!!! Don’t need to add smut, i was thinking this to be intense and angst (im crazy I know😅) BUT feel free to write it I really don’t mind🫶🫶
anyways THANK YOU SO MUCH once again! you’re the best💓💓
(english is not my first language so sorry if made any mistake)
Thank you so, so much for your patience! I'm posting this fic very soon (within the next couple hours), and I really hope you like it. Here's a little excerpt in the meantime:
Hello! For your requests, can I suggest: (older) Jackson Joel x sweet/sunshine Reader (younger) where Joel notices Reader during something mundane like handling horses after patrol, cleaning after Ellie's mess or doing dishes, etc and he thinks it's the hottest most, attractive thing he's ever seen? He's hiding his affection for her for so long but can't resist her anymore? Thanks!! ✨
With some touches of soft dom, breeding, domestic love and babygirl used for Reader?
𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫
This piece contains 18+ content
pairing joel miller x sunshine reader [friends → lovers]
summary joel’s old enough to know what he wants, and man enough to finally admit it’s you [fluff, yearning, smut (p in v, teasy, soft, dash of overstim as well as the specifics requested above), wc 5.4k]
a/n thank you so much for this amazing request and your patience, anon! i really enjoyed writing this one cause it scratched an itch i didn’t know i had. i love these two so much!
⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂
The breezes have grown surer of themselves. Unabashed in their chill, though they make the trees sway all the same.
Swashes of vibrant colors now stretch amidst the evergreens. Leaves of red, orange, and yellow that don’t take much convincing to surrender from their branches. While out on afternoon patrol, Joel had appreciated the quiet beauty of it all.
After returning Bandit to his stall, he spots you near the entrance of the stables feeding Dakota. When he first rode in, he’d seen other volunteers milling around but none of them were you.
Much like the trees, your skirt catches the wind to reveal the boots you wear beneath. Joel’s cowboy hat shadows his eyes, but you feel the heavy weight of his gaze even before you cast your glance his way. You pass Dakota her last carrot as the gentle thunk of his footsteps quiets several feet away. He tips the brim of his hat when you look up.
“Howdy,” he rumbles. “Figured you’d gone home early or somethin’.”
“So you were looking for me, huh?” Your smile is teasing.
You stroke Dakota’s neck when she presses towards you, though your attention remains on Joel. He clings to the grace of your movements. “How was it out there today?”
Your interest makes him straighten. “Good.” You nod for him to continue when he stops himself. “Looks real nice this time of year with the trees and all. Those forest routes are somethin’ else.”
“Oh, I bet.” There’s a wistfulness to your tone.
You weren’t a part of the patrol team, so it’d been two months since you ventured beyond the wall. Joel had been the one to take you, but the Clickers you encountered dissuaded your eagerness thereafter. He shot each one before they posed any real threat to your lives, but the prospect of what could’ve been was a blemish that lingered in the back of your mind. Only now, as Jackson creeps towards dormancy, had the desire to leave begun to bud anew.
“I can take you.” Joel’s eyes flick across your features. “Whenever you’re ready to get back out there.”
“I’d like that.”
Silence settles in the space between you as he nods. Laughter carries from the near distance. Horses shuffle through hay in their stalls, puff breaths from their noses. Joel lingers as you grant Dakota your undivided attention, petting her while cooing the whole while. He doesn’t realize he’s begun to smile until the pull in his cheeks has grown too great to ignore.
“You’re such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” you ask her. “My best girl.”
The way you pitch your voice to be airy and saccharine stirs warmth in Joel’s stomach. He could stand around and watch you for hours, which is how he knows it’s time to go on about his way. If it wasn’t so easy to be around you, he’d be a more disciplined man.
“Did Ellie mention I’m helping her out this evening?” you ask.
Joel sets his hands on his hips. “With paint night for the kids?” He thinks a few extra seconds to ensure he doesn’t make a liar out of her. “No.” If she’d told him, he would’ve already planned to be in attendance as opposed to making the decision ten seconds ago.
“That one hardly tells me anything these days.”
You hum in amusement, studying him. There’s a faint rosiness to his cheeks, flecks of gray in his beard. His hair is long enough to peek from beneath his cowboy hat like Tommy’s. He’s rugged. Handsome. Joel studies you in turn. There’s endless life in your eyes along with that discrete sparkle of mischief.
“Guess I’ll see you this evening,” he says.
“You’re coming? Yeah, no, great. Guess I will then,” you ramble. “Should be a lot of fun.”
A smile tugs at his lips. “Should be.”
With a parting tip of his hat, he turns to leave. He figures he’s said all that’s left for him to say. If you two weren’t in different stages in your life and it wasn’t the end of the world, he likes to believe he would’ve been braver a long time ago.
There’s a buzz beneath your skin as you dare to call out to him again, “Wanna see something cool before you go?”
Once upon a time, you wished you knew Joel well enough to call him back to you. To enjoy more of his steady presence. To watch the way his lips moved when he spoke. To see those matured quirks of his up close. Time has granted you access you once dreamed of. Yet, every night when you go home to your uncle’s house and fall asleep alone, it still isn’t enough. These days you cling to every second with him.
Joel starts back your way with that slow, easy stride you’d always rather see coming than going. Curiosity lifts the corners of his lips in a smile you never have to work hard to earn.
When he’s close enough, you pluck his cowboy hat off his head and place it on your own, backpedaling a few paces away with a grin.
Joel pokes his tongue into the inside of his cheek to tamp down his instantaneous smile. There’s magic etched into the crinkles by your eyes, the glint of your teeth. He takes a few steps in your direction before he’s decided whether or not he wants his hat back or wants to be closer to you. A squeal as giddy as they come breaks into the air. He stops then, not because he wants to, but because he can feel the curious eyes that have settled on the two of you. If he were a few decades younger, he wouldn’t mind an audience.
“Ain’t gonna chase ya.”
“What if that’s the whole point?”
When Joel starts your way again, you become all the more aware of how broad he is. How much longer his legs are. How many years he’s had to be torn down and strengthened by the world. There’s no chance you’re making it far, but the spark within you dares you to try.
It’s snuffed seconds after it ignites.
A misstep over an uneven plank sends you backwards. Air punches out of your lungs the moment your butt hits the ground.
Joel’s above you in seconds.
“Jesus,” he breathes, gaze filled with concern. “You okay?”
He extends a helping hand, but all you can think to do is hold his hat secure to your head so he can’t snatch it back.
“Ain’t thinkin’ about that,” he says. “Here, c’mon.” He wiggles his fingers.
Joel pulls you to your feet like you’re light as the air. Embarrassment rises to your cheeks with the warmth of a summer’s day.
“Gotta be careful.” Then, softer, “Didn’t hurt anything, did you?”
“Yes.” Joel frowns at that. “My pride.”
A gruff chuckle sneaks up on him. Even then, he looks you over for any signs of discomfort. You still aren’t convinced he can’t see straight down to your marrow. It’d be easier to feel less seen if his gaze wasn’t always so tender.
Like everyone else in Jackson, there was a period when you only ever saw the intensity. Something had changed towards the end of last year, and you haven’t had the courage to acknowledge what.
“If that’s the only thing, I reckon you’ll be okay,” he says.
“I’ll take your word for it.” You place his hat back on his head, pushing it down to cover his eyes, “Cowboy.”
“Good.” Joel readjusts his hat. “Cause I’m gonna need you to be okay.”
He doesn’t backtrack or spin the sincerity of his statement into the fabric of a joke. Both of you are forced to stand there as it lingers in the air and cements into an invisible truth bound to endure. He eventually clears his throat and pushes his hands into his pockets.
“Is that what you wanted to show me?”
All there is to do is offer a shy nod that somehow remains unashamed.
•••
The memory of the night lives in him after it passes. Joel can still hear the chatter, the laughter, paint being squeezed out of tubes, and brushes swirling in water. He can feel your thigh against his, and the sensation of your finger smearing a cool dab of white paint onto the tip of his nose.
A little boy named Thane had dared you, and Joel would never shy away from your touch. Not when you were as delighted as the kids to mess with him without consequence. That’s what happens when you make people feel safe.
Three knocks sound at his front door as he reaches the bottom of the staircase.
It’s you.
“Hi.” Your voice is small like you hadn’t just spent the evening by his side. “You left this masterpiece behind after clean up.”
You hold up a small canvas that features the landscape painting you’d convinced him to do. It teeters towards abstraction, but nonetheless features the Teton Mountains and the colorful trees at their feet.
“Ain’t nothing special.” He opens the door wider, closing it after you step inside.
“It’s not bad.”
“Ain’t good either.”
“I don’t think any of us gave da Vinci a run for his money,” you amend. “I like it, though.” Your sincerity isn’t lost on Joel. “The kiddos loved it.”
“Alright, alright.” Joel chuckles and scratches the back of his neck.
You pass the canvas to him. “Gotta find a good place for it.”
He walks it to the entryway table for now. The hardwood creaks beneath his feet. He’s already changed into his pajamas, plaid bottoms and a gray t-shirt. You’re in jeans and a cable-knit sweater. The stillness of his house washes over you. The refrigerator hums in the kitchen.
As his back is turned, you say, “I’m really glad you came.”
There’s a weight to his gaze when he faces you again. You had a habit of saying things that forced him away from the easy out of neutrality.
Instead of overthinking, he opts for honesty. “Me too,” he decides. “Probably wouldn’t have if you weren’t gonna be there.”
“Guess a little incentive never hurt anybody.” Sparkles dance in your eyes.
“No,” Joel agrees, glancing down to his feet. “Were you, uh, plannin’ on staying over a while?”
You lift a shoulder. “If you’ll have me.”
“You’re always welcome.” It’s the most earnest he’s sounded all evening. “Could use the company.” He can’t read the look that flickers across your face.
“Drink?”
“Water’s fine.” Your small smile eases his nerves.
Joel pours two glasses and joins you on the couch. Pictures of the great American West adorn the living room walls—Yellowstone, Yosemite, the Grand Canyon. A few faded Polaroid photos are also peppered around the space.
“When was that one taken?” You point to a picture of him on the fireplace mantel.
Joel wets his lips and squints because his vision isn’t the same these days. However, the sway of your hips is crystal clear as you spring up to retrieve it.
You sit closer to him than before upon your return. He drapes an arm across the cushion behind you as you assess the photo in silence together. He looks tired and a bit disheveled in the light of the flash, but wears that signature closed-lipped smile packed with fondness. From what you can make of the background, he’s indoors. The dark walnut cabinets suggest a kitchen.
“That was before Jackson. Before all of this.” Reminiscence is thick in his voice. “Had bought Sarah a camera for her thirteenth birthday.” He starts to smile. “Don’t think I’d ever heard her scream that loud.” You smile too.
“She was so over the moon, I thought I’d never be able to outdo myself again.”
Drawn in by the warmth of Joel’s voice, you begin to trace absentminded shapes on his thigh.
“Never did like bein’ in front of the lens, but those puppy eyes got me every time.” A host of other memories ride palpably on his words.
You share a hushed laugh that wanes into a comfortable silence. Joel’s focus drifts to your hand when your palm stills on his thigh to deliver a soft squeeze. He can feel you everywhere. In his head, beneath his skin, consuming him whole. On New Years Day, you’d hugged him for the first time—properly—and there was only ever after that moment. It’d been a freefall since then.
“You still look the same,” you murmur after a while.
Time has etched its passing in some of his features, but it hadn’t completely erased the man he used to be.
“Think so?”
Joel holds his breath when you reach out to run a gentle finger along his hairline, then venture down to follow the curve of his jawline. Your touch is so featherlight, it tickles. His lashes flutter when you trace a finger down the bridge of his nose. When it slides off the tip and lands in the divot of his Cupid’s bow, you proceed to line his lips. Then you pull away.
“A little different,” you amend. “But the same.”
His cheeks are flushed now.
“Think I might’ve been a bit braver back then.” His voice comes out thick.
“I’m sure a few gray hairs haven’t changed much.”
“Think it’s a bit more than a few.”
You shrug. “I don’t mind.”
Months worth of tension expels out of him in the only way his body knows how. A laugh. Even though you join in, he’s convinced he’s the only one who feels laid bare and wanting. He was done for the moment he asked if you intended to stay. You, with all your heart, warmth, and charm. Another hush falls over the room.
For the first time in his life, he can no longer hold your gaze.
“Y’should probably head back home before it gets too late.” Joel’s posture doesn’t match his words. Nor does the warmth in his gut or the pressure in his pants. He forces himself to look at you. “Can walk you, if you’d like.”
“Did I say something wrong?—”
“Listen, sweetheart.” Joel looks sorry for interrupting, but his dark eyes are nevertheless imploring. Even after he has your attention, he takes a few extra seconds to gather himself.
“I’ve taken a liking towards you.”
Time stills. You blink at him.
“I keep tellin’ myself it’ll pass.” He continues when the ghost of a furrow forms between your brows, “But I can’t shake you.”
Your voice comes out quiet but sure, “I feel the same way.”
Joel doesn’t let himself accept your words quite yet.
“You’ve got your whole life ahead of you,” he says. “I promise you don’t wanna get wrapped up in whatever the hell I’ve got going on.”
“Is that your decision to make?” It’s a soft question with a hard punch.
“‘Course not, s’just,” he straightens up and runs a heavy hand down his beard. “You being here like this, touchin’ me… it’s makin’ it difficult for me to keep minding my manners.”
“And that’s my fault?”
That stumps Joel long enough for the corners of your lips to lift just so. Maybe it is a bit funny, all this dancing between the lines when the whole ballroom lies open. He gives you a helpless look that makes him appear years younger, less like a man with all the answers.
“Jus’ don’t wanna ruin a good thing,” he finally says.
You stand to your feet.
“Is me walking out that door the solution?”
His heart sinks like it’s attached to a millstone. Fear, longing, regret, and hope flicker across his face like changing seasons.
“Don’t want it to be,” he murmurs hoarsely.
He peers up at you when you move to stand between his legs. As you run your fingers through his graying curls, his brows furrow and his eyes close like it pains him. It’d been too many moons since someone paid him this much mind. He stops himself from reaching for your hips.
“You can touch me.”
Joel tells himself it’s your permission that drives him to place his heavy hands on your waist. That makes him guide you down to straddle his lap. That makes him press a steady palm to your back so you’re forced to lean forward into his kiss. The permission. Surely not the undercurrent of need in your voice that made him realize he couldn’t let you go without. Surely not his own reservations being thrown to the wayside.
All that exists is his lips, the brush of his beard against your skin, his grip on your waist that you’re certain is the only thing holding you together. Not God or science, just a man. There’s nothing hurried about the way your lips tease and taste, heavy breaths passing between you. Joel kisses with the same steadiness he’s known for everywhere else in his life.
His body is solid beneath you like he’s a new creation who’d never known doubt a day in his life. You’re soft, and warm, and still smell of the fresh mountain air. A small groan catches in the back of his throat when you roll your hips.
Joel hasn’t run this hot in a long time.
He takes the opportunity to catch his breath when you pull away to press kisses along his jawline. Then down his neck where his pulse point flutters with life. He feels like an exposed wire. Left to do nothing but spark and crackle as you scoot to the floor between his legs.
When the smoke clears, the sight before him robs him of his breath again: you on your knees, lips curled upwards in the coyest smile. Him with his legs spread wide, desire proving itself in the bulge at the juncture of his thighs.
To reclaim a semblance of modesty, he adjusts himself and rests a hand over his crotch as a shield. You don’t let him get away with it, grasping his hand to kiss over his scarred knuckles. Joel huffs a flustered sound, caught.
“Lemme take you upstairs,” he insists.
You nuzzle the inside of his knee in feigned objection.
“Upstairs, babygirl,” he doubles down. “I’ll take real good care of ya.” Then he grows even more forthcoming, “Won’t last if you get those hands or that pretty mouth on me.”
“You won’t?” You palm him and he shudders.
You clench around nothing when he cups your cheek. There’s hopefulness in his big, brown eyes. You turn your head to lazily kiss the meat of his thumb. It feels like an act of mercy when you stand, extending your hand to him so he can get up and lead the way.
•••
Dim lamplight fills the bedroom. Moonlight peeks through the curtains. Joel’s lips are even gentler when they find yours after stripping you bare and bracing himself overtop of you on the matress. One calloused palm slides up your ribcage to gently cup your breasts, thumbing over your pebbled nipples. You keen into the warmth of his bare chest because there’s nowhere else to go. Joel strains into the confines of his briefs.
At your whimper, he parts from your lips with a final peck before he begins his descent. Your chest rises and falls with deep breaths as he kisses down your throat. Across your collarbones. Down the valley of your breasts, and to your midsection. Arousal pools between your legs as he bypasses where you need him most.
It’s him who now lowers himself to the floor. He grunts as his knees pop, but he gets there in the end. The muscles of your inner thigh twitch at the plushness of kiss paired with the scratch of his beard. His breath fans over your core and, for a brief moment, that’s enough. Patience is a virtue. Then he stops. On weak arms, you push yourself to sit upright, peering down at him with fawn eyes.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he rumbles.
Your cheeks grow warm. “I feel that way when you look at me.”
“You are.” He tugs you closer to the edge of the bed. “Every part of you.”
More hot kisses are dotted along your inner thighs. Closer and closer to where you need him until he parts you open with a careful finger. For a moment, he observes. You’re already a mess.
“Mind if I have a taste?” His question leaves him bashful. It’s been a while. For all his confidence, you still knock him off his feet and he wants to make you feel good.
“You can have whatever you want,” you lilt.
A shaky exhale escapes you when he leans forward to run his tongue alongside either side of your seam. Then straight up the middle as you clench. Each time, his tongue stops shy of your clit.
“Joel,” you whine.
Your fingers don’t know what to do when you place your hands on his head.
He kisses and licks through your slick with a languid, exploratory sort of ease, aquiline nose just barely bumping the swollen bud that aches for his attention. That whisper of contact makes you writhe. Joel soothes his hands over your thighs. You tug his hair.
His mouth and chin are wet with you when he lifts his head to meet your pleading gaze.
“What’s wrong?” The tenderness of his voice makes your stomach flip. “You needin’ me somewhere, is that it?”
At last, he presses a light kiss to your clit. Then another, suckling it between his lips on the tail end. It’s enough to make your walls contract. As he begins to lap through your folds again, he nurses that swollen part of you after every few drags of his tongue.
You don’t realize he’s suspended you on the edge until you notice how heavily you’ve begun to breathe, how much you’ve begun to squirm, how quivery your thighs have grown. It’s enthralling, the helplessness and desperation he’s invoked in a matter of minutes. And he hasn’t uttered a single word, just hummed along to your pretty sounds.
“I-I’m close.”
“You close, sweetheart?” he echoes.
You hum a frantic sound of agreement.
Devastation strikes when he stands. Your dazed eyes sweep over his bare chest, the pudge of his belly, down his strong legs. His body is a canvas, bearing scars, and moles, and the lot. You swallow when Joel tucks his fingers into the waistband of his underwear and pushes them down. His flushed cock bobs upwards as it’s set free.
The air of the room is cool where it meets the pearly bead along his slit. Veins ribbon along his shaft. The line of hair beneath his navel leads to the wiry curls surrounding the base. Just below, his balls hang with a heavy fullness.
He has the nerve to blush, but doesn’t subject himself to your gaze for long. “Scoot back.”
You shakily scramble up the bed. The mattress dips as Joel joins you. Broad-shouldered and longing, he crowds into your space to prop himself overtop of you with care. Electricity buzzes through you as he reaches between your legs to gather your arousal, using the moisture to stroke himself a few relaxed times.
You’re so turned on, a breath of laughter escapes you. Joel’s cock twitches at the sweet sound, the way it makes your chest shake.
“What?” He smiles.
“I really need you,” you murmur.
Joel runs himself through your folds. Each methodical pass taps your puffy clit. Already, he’s worked you back up to the cliff he left you on.
To your dismay, he trades his cock with his fingers. They slip through your slick with ease. There’s no resistance when he pushes one into your warmth, humming when your mouth falls open. After a few steady pumps, he adds another, both curling into you with skillful reverence.
“Feeling good?” he asks, eyes warm.
“I still—” your breath catches he rubs firm, steady circles over your bundle of nerves. “Still need you.”
Joel’s stomach flutters. “M’right here.”
Your face prickles with the beginnings of frustration. “Please?”
He eases his fingers out of you. “Said I was gonna take care of you, right?”
“Yes,” you croak.
“So let me.”
Joel grabs his base and returns to your folds. Tears prick in your eyes. You’re frayed around the edges, every nerve at alert.
“Know you’re aching,” he purrs. “I’m achin’ too.”
With a steady push, he eases into the warmth of your cunt.
“Thank you,” you sigh in relief.
The ridge of his plump mushroom tip is as far as he gets before your climax catches you by surprise. Joel groans as you whimper, fluttering around the head of his cock.
“You’re welcome,” he manages, pressing in further.
There’s hardly any distinction between the pleasure of your release and the pleasure of him filling you. It’s a continuous swell that you tremble through. You close your eyes to find solace in the dark.
“That’s it.”
“Almost there.”
“There you go, babygirl.”
Joel’s reassurances sound unreal and far away. When your eyes reopen, he’s fully sheathed. He swipes your tears away as you adjust.
“You’re okay,” he whispers.
You nod.
“You trust me?”
You shake your head, but a wobbly smile pulls at your lips.
Joel’s chest shakes with a low chuckle. “Yes you do.” He slips a hand between your bodies to rub a few chastising circles where you’re most sensitive.
Your gasp is cut off with a slow kiss. When you shift your hips to encourage him to move, Joel stills you with a strong hand and sets his own rhythm. It’s better than whatever you were attempting to spur. There’s no helping the way your back arches, how your hands grip along his arms like they’re your tether to Earth.
One of your hands strays to his chest, fingertips brushing through the sparse hair. Then your palm flattens against it like you’re debating pushing him away.
“You can take it,” Joel assures. Then his voice softens, “Know it feels good.”
There’s so much of him. Everything about him is so much, you knew that before tonight. Heads turn towards him in every room he enters. When he speaks, people listen and things change.
“So good,” you sigh.
The squelch of your bodies fills the room. Joel makes the mistake of looking to the place where you’re joined, and curses himself a million times over. He glimmers in you. Even though you’re tender and swollen, there’s a greed to the way you continue to suck him in. Stars shine in your eyes when he meets your gaze. Sweet, and gone, and bright.
Maybe this is what the stories of old warned of when they spoke of flying too close to the sun. Here he was in the midst of the flames, enveloped in your warmth so wholly that the two of you were one. After tonight, everyone in Jackson would see the mark you left behind. It was haughty to think he ever stood a chance.
“M’close,” he groans.
You look directly into his eyes and say, “Fill me up.”
Your voice sounds too caught up in the clouds for you to have realized the gravity of your request. Yet, with his hand to God, he can’t deny the surge of eagerness that courses through him.
He gives you a second chance, “Where do you want me?”
You hold his gaze because you’ve already supplied your answer. Dizziness strikes him. It starts in his head and works its way down to his gut. Joel makes to pull out before he does something unwise, but you hook your legs around the backs of his thighs to keep him near.
Sweat dots his hairline, glistens in the divot of his sternum. “Can’t say stuff like that, babygirl.”
A lopsided smile stretches across your face. “I hope it’s a girl.”
Every rational inclination in Joel’s body dilutes to a whisper. Then he sees it. Rogue flashes. His hands cradling your rounded belly. A baby girl with your eyes, your smile, your joy. A family. More laughter within these lonely four walls. He loses himself to the fantasy.
“Goddammit.” He touches his forehead to yours. “Me too—fuck. Me too.”
Joel’s thrusts deepen like he’s taken your words to heart. An unashamed moan falls past your lips. You guide him in for a clumsy, loving kiss. His thumb works clit until you arch beneath him, falling into the thralls of another release. One clamp after another, you pulse around him as he sees you through the relentless waves of pleasure.
“Christ, I’m comin’.”
The fantasy begins to fade.
Your legs have fallen from around him, lax with pleasure, so there’s no resistance as he slips from your warmth like he was never really there.
All that’s left to attest that he was is your swollen folds, the shine of his cock. He strokes himself with a firm fist until his stomach tenses. Until his balls draw upwards, and he surrenders to the inexplicable tug of outward-rushing pleasure. A restrained grunt accompanies each strong rope of his release onto your skin. Low on your tummy, the top of your mound. You admire the scrunch of his face as he shudders through the aftershocks.
The soreness in his biceps registers as he comes down. He kisses your forehead, your cheek, then rolls to collapse alongside you. Trembling when you reach over to take him in your hand, stroking him a few knowing times before you move to massage his balls.
“I’m all done, sweetheart,” he rasps, tucking his nose into your shoulder, kissing you there.
You pull away, but not without letting a lone finger sneakily grace along his shaft one last time.
“Wanted you to come inside,” you murmur after a few quiet moments.
And you truly did, a two minutes ago when having his baby didn’t seem like as big of a deal. You repeat it now as a temperature check more than anything.
“You think you did,” he corrects.
“I did.”
He believes you a little more this time.
“‘Member what I said about not wanting to ruin a good thing?”
“A baby wouldn’t—”
“That ain’t what I’m suggestin’.” Joel props himself on his forearm and tenderly traces along the underside of your breast. The furrow between his brows lets you know he’s deep in thought.
“Let’s get to know each other. Truly.” His fingers move to the other side of your chest. “No more of this dancing between the lines.”
He pauses to make sure you’re still with him. “Lemme take you to dinner—hell, all the things. Start over and do this right.”
Joel’s fingertips brush down to your tummy, avoiding where his spend is gathered. “Then I’ll come wherever you want me to.”
A shiver runs down your spine at his touch, his words.
He finally lets his fingers pass through his sticky spend, running them down between your thighs. Your legs startle closed as they bump over the swell of your clit and brush through your folds.
“Joel.” Your hips shift, oversensitive but his touch still feels good. “Okay, okay, okay.”
He pulls away and kisses your temple. “That was just payback,” he murmurs, a smile in his voice. “You alright?” The question is much kinder.
You nod, entirely too satisfied. Entirely spent.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” You watch as he stands on shaky legs to head to the bathroom.
“Joel?”
He stops, faces the bed again.
“Everything you said,” you start, taking all his nakedness in. “I’d like that too.”
To begin again; what a lovely gift to come about in the night.
-
Thanks so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all!
Hannah, I've only stumbled across your blog very recently, but my god am I glad that I did. You have such an incredible talent for stringing words together into art pieces. This was an incredible read.
I think it'd almost be easier if I screenshotted the whole fic and just highlighted my favorite phrases from it rather than copying everything into this post. Already the very first two lines read like poetry:
The breezes have grown surer of themselves. Unabashed in their chill, though they make the trees sway all the same.
And then you follow that up with "Leaves [...] that don't take much convincing to surrender from their branches." 😭 That is such a beautiful way of saying that fall has come in full swing?!?!
I keep typing and re-typing what I want to say because I feel like my comment has to do this piece justice not just in content but in aesthetic too. It feels almost like vandalism to leave an emoji on a fic written like this. So let me put it this way: If this was food instead of literature, your dishes not only taste incredible, they also look like mouth-watering structures of art.
I hope that paints a good picture of how I feel about this fic.
I also want to point out that in my opinion, you do an excellent job of truly offering up a blank slate when it comes to the reader's looks. I just re-read it again to make sure. There's never a physical description of the reader beyond their clothes and their female anatomy. But even so, the picture doesn't feel empty in a way that it's lacking, rather the opposite, if you ask me. What you name builds a ground structure for the reader to project themselves onto. We, the reader, have a body that remains uncommented on in aspects of hair, skin color, height or weight. And yet the story doesn't feel empty.
Why? Because you are a genius, and what you describe instead is Joel, who we do know and have a visual reference for. In every little moment where reader and Joel come close, you very cleverly (and yet subtly without it seeming disruptive) describe Joel with all the visual aspects that we know him for and still give the reader descriptors that are applicable to anyone.
You hum in amusement, studying him. There’s a faint rosiness to his cheeks, flecks of gray in his beard. His hair is long enough to peek from beneath his cowboy hat like Tommy’s. He’s rugged. Handsome. Joel studies you in turn. There’s endless life in your eyes along with that discrete sparkle of mischief.
When Joel starts your way again, you become all the more aware of how broad he is. How much longer his legs are. How many years he’s had to be torn down and strengthened by the world.
I love this bit in particular because it leaves room for interpretation. Is the reader smaller than Joel? Not necessarily. There is no exact comparison between the reader and Joel, just the reader noticing aspects of Joel up close. The reader can choose how to interpret these lines any way they want to.
You, with all your heart, warmth, and charm.
You’re soft, and warm, and still smell of the fresh mountain air.
Your chest rises and falls with deep breaths as he kisses down your throat. Across your collarbones. Down the valley of your breasts, and to your midsection.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he rumbles.
Your cheeks grow warm. “I feel that way when you look at me.”
I also have to say that the whole thing was so so beautifully written content wise. Like it's not just how you package it, it's what you're so neatly presenting too.
When the smoke clears, the sight before him robs him of his breath again: you on your knees, lips curled upwards in the coyest smile. Him with his legs spread wide, desire proving itself in the bulge at the juncture of his thighs.
To reclaim a semblance of modesty, he adjusts himself and rests a hand over his crotch as a shield. You don’t let him get away with it, grasping his hand to kiss over his scarred knuckles. Joel huffs a flustered sound, caught.
I think that right there was my favorite part. The warmth of the gesture that says "I want to see what this does to you, what I am doing to you" and it's coming from a place of awe and mutual affection, expressed through the kisses on the knuckles. It's so hot.
And oh god. Later. The baby talk. The family fantasy. 😮💨😮💨😮💨 Objectively, that's already hot, but being in a place where my partner and I would already be actively trying for a baby if the financial circumstances were right, that part hit home even more. So. Freaking. Hot.
A lopsided smile stretches across your face. “I hope it’s a girl.”
I think if I were Joel, I would've busted right there and then. Holy shit.
He pauses to make sure you’re still with him. “Lemme take you to dinner—hell, all the things. Start over and do this right.”
Joel’s fingertips brush down to your tummy, avoiding where his spend is gathered. “Then I’ll come wherever you want me to.”
I have no more words. This was a masterpiece. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.
What do I even say? 😭🤍 You're beyond kind, and I'm so grateful you took the time to provide such thoughtful commentary. Reading all of this felt like being fueled. I'm living for all of your highlights and compliments and reaction pictures. I would've gladly accepted your emoji vandalism too, but it wouldn't have had the same effect as getting a glimpse into your mind. So much of what you touched on as it regards my characterization and general prose confirms that I successfully gave life to the essence of what I wanted this fic to be. I'm glad you stumbled across my blog too, Toph. 🤍
pairing joel miller x female reader [established relationship]
summary wandering hands on a chilly morning in bed with the love of your life [fluff, smut, wc 1.5k]
a/n ugh. this.
↟ᨒ↟
Stillness always accompanies the morning. A blanketed hush rests over the mountains, the trees, the valley where Jackson Hole sits. The sun has only just begun to peek over the horizon, but soon its rays will stretch far and wide for all to see. The pink and lilac ombré of the sky will give way to blue, and the new day will truly begin.
A shiver dances down Joel’s spine when you press your lips to the nape of his neck. The curls there tickle your nose, but deter you in no way. At the groggy sound that rises in his throat, you pepper a few more across the soft, freckled skin.
Up until now, he wasn’t even sure if you were awake. Most Saturdays, he stirred before you and awaited the moment you became conscious to the world. Today, you’re right here with him from the start. He presses back into you as you drape an arm over his waist.
These days, he spends half of his time chasing after your touch. Only because you give it so freely. Until you, he’d gone years without.
“Morning, handsome,” you murmur into his skin.
He hums. “Mornin’.”
“It’s cold.”
Joel hadn’t noticed. The chill of the outdoors always found a way to creep inside. You snuggle closer as he pulls the covers further up your bodies.
“At least you’re warm,” you lilt, slipping your hand beneath the hem of his shirt.
Your fingertips grace through the sparse hair low on his belly. It isn’t until you lay your palm flat that he jolts with a throaty sound of surprise. The coolness of your touch seeps into his skin and strips away the remaining cloud of drowsiness that lingers over him. Your soft laughter rises near his ear.
“Jeez, sweetheart,” he breathes.
He gives into a weak laugh and accepts his fate. The bite of your touch subsides before long. Not once does he complain, and you almost feel bad. If it’s anything you’ve learned about Joel, it’s that he’s a good sport even when he doesn’t have to be. It was something you noticed about him before he shyly introduced himself to you all those months ago.
You, however, felt like a slightly new version of yourself every day. Still learning what you were made for and what you believe in. Joel was steady, as if he’d settled into himself years ago and made up his mind about what type of man he wanted to be.
“Much better,” you tease.
“Jus’ lemme hold ya,” he rumbles. “That’ll keep ya warm.”
The two of you roll over so your back is to Joel’s chest. You melt into his body heat like butter. He’s strong and solid behind you, aquiline nose pressed into the back of your head as he breathes you in. His touch is much kinder when he returns the favor of slipping a hand up your shirt. The breadth of his warm palm covers so much of your torso, and the rougher brush of his calluses are well welcome. You were never in any danger, but you feel safer like this.
A melodic bird call rises outside as his thumb graces the underside of your breast, gentle and unhurried. There’s something poetic about it all. A different kind of warmth blooms in your chest and stomach, like flames not yet large enough to consume you whole. Joel means for his touch to be chaste until your hips push back into his.
He kisses the back of your shoulder, fingers still gracing along your ribcage in steady passes. When you’re certain you’re about to teeter out of your skin, you cover his larger hand with yours and guide it to the waistband of your sleep pants.
“Need you,” you murmur.
Joel helps you shuck them down your legs. You shift when he runs a finger down the front of your panties. The thin fabric is already damp. You don’t have time to feel bashful because Joel’s own arousal stirs at your backside. He pays no mind to himself as he rubs you over your panties. Impatience makes you push them down your legs with eager hands. Joel pulls back to give you space to move, then you settle against him again.
A whimper escapes you when his fingers run through your pillowy folds. He touches you like you’re every delicate thing. Silk, porcelain, the petals of a flower in bloom. When he finds the small bud that aches for his attention, he withholds nothing. He uses your slick to circle it as your thighs twitch.
It’s early enough that there is no stubbornness, no guard. You let the pleasure build without starving it in the name of making it stronger. Joel takes quiet pride in your trust.
Everything else fades away as he works you open with two thick, gentle fingers. They curl against a ridge within your warmth that makes your walls flutter in non-rhythm as the pad of his thumb circles that swollen, tender part of you. That’s all it takes. Your thighs tense, a familiar cord in your belly tightens.
“Already?” Joel coos in a low timbre.
You would’ve smiled if he didn’t pull his hand away. You whine at the loss with hot cheeks. Joel shifts behind you to push his pajamas and briefs down just enough. There isn’t much time between then and him angling your leg so he can line himself up at your center from behind.
He’s heavy in his palm, a pearly bead nestled along his slit. You would turn to get a better look if your body didn’t hum with the anticipation. Instead, you feel him meet your seam. He works an arm under your body to hug you to himself, and uses the other to ease into your heat. It’s a delicious, consuming stretch.
At that moment, there is no more cold. No winter.
A relieved growl vibrates through his chest as he buries himself as deep as he can. You huff a sweet, exasperated chuckle. You can picture the scrunch of his brow, the helplessness of his gaze. Joel lets things settle before he draws out and pushes back in. Your walls hug him so snugly that it feels like you have no plans of letting him go.
“Christ, that’s good,” he whispers hoarsely.
“So, so good,” you sigh.
Joel shudders with his thrusts, unashamed at the way his ragged breaths fan across your neck. He dots kisses across your nape to distract both of you, only to end up groaning into your skin. The graze of his scruff makes goosebumps rush down your arms. It doesn’t take much for him anymore, especially not in the mornings when everything is sensitive, sleepy, and new.
He reaches up your shirt to thumb at your nipples, then lowers that hand to your bundle of nerves. As if shocked, he falters when you clench around him.
“Ain’t gonna last.” He gives your hip an apologetic squeeze.
You shake your head because you don’t mind. You’re about to fall over the edge yourself. Joel feels it.
“Let go for me, sweetheart,” he coaxes. “I gotcha.”
He applies more pressure to your clit. That’s all it takes. With an intensity that robs your breath, your walls flutter around him as waves of pleasure course through you. Joel holds you steady as he continues to make love to you. The aftershocks leave you in a satisfied haze.
Joel’s stomach quivers. “You’re so good to me,” he hushes into your ear, making you shiver. “Don’t know what I ever did…”
He trails off as his balls grow taut. To deserve you. That’s what he intends to say. But he surrenders to the insistent tug of pleasure low in his gut.
Behind you, the strongest man you know grunts and trembles as he empties himself into you. The pulses have already begun to weaken when he remembers himself and murmurs a gruff, “I’m comin’, sweet pea.”
He grows quiet before long. His lips meet your skin in lazy kisses wherever he can reach. Sighs escape both of you as he pulls out. The loss is devastating, but at the very least, you can feel the slight spill of his spend between your thighs.
Joel encourages you to turn over. A certain self-consciousness strikes you when you do. It’s the first time all morning you’ve taken a good look into each other’s eyes. His gaze is steady and fond. You place your hand over his when he cups your cheek. He cracks a small curious smile when you pull his hand from your face to press kisses over his knuckles.
“I love you,” you whisper.
“I love you too.”
Outside, the sky has become more blue.
-
Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all!
