#ITS HIM GUIDING HER HOLDING HER HAND WHILE SHES LAUGHING🥹🥹🥹

[thefrsers]

ASK ME IF I’M OKAY COS I’M NOT🥹😭

[cowgurrrl]

Love the writing! Could I please request baby!Miller first steps and Joel just melting?

Thank you for the request and your sweet words!! Here’s Charlie girl taking her first steps 🥹

Never Grow Up

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: “Why did I decide to walk in the kitchen?” “Maybe you just saw something you wanted.” aka this ask

Author’s note: oh my little Look for the Light verse how I missed you

Warnings: parental anxiety, Joel being a softie, Ellie being the worlds best big sister

Sarah took her first steps the day after her first birthday, deciding that she officially had to be one before she could hit her milestone. Jane took her first steps about a month before she turned one. She was tired of waiting for someone to pick her up so she could get somewhere, ever a woman on a mission, even as a toddler. But Charlie, Charlie turned one a month ago and still hasn't shown any interest in trying to walk. And it's not for lack of trying. You, Ellie, and Joel all take turns holding her chubby little hands and guiding her feet across the floor, which she's perfectly content with until you let go. Then, she plops back down on the floor and scootches to wherever she wants to be.

"I just don't get it," you say to Joel one night as you get ready for bed. He sighs as he hangs up his jacket in the closet. "I mean, do you think something's wrong? Should we take her to the doctor?"

"Every kid is gonna hit their milestones at a different time. She's just takin' a little longer, that's all."

"How do you know?" You ask. He takes a deep breath before walking over to you and cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs swipe soothing lines across your cheekbones, and you let yourself relax into him.

"Because you're her mama and one of the most capable people I know. She's got your good genes," he says as he kisses your forehead, and you laugh a little bit. You breathe him in, the smell of pine and the lavender detergent you use to wash the clothes surrounding you. The house is silent as you stand in your shared room, your anxieties misfiring against the old wood. "She's gonna be fine."

"And if she's not?"

"Then, we'll handle it."

You agree to give it one more month. If she doesn't walk in another month, you'll take her to the doctor. In the meantime, you try to let it go. You let her scoot around the house and try not to get too excited when she pulls herself to her feet. You have a feeling that she can sense whenever you're expecting her to do something, the baited anticipation too much for her little brain to comprehend. It may be silly, but you know your kid. You know how she operates.

Ellie likes to lie on the floor with Charlie, and she gives her a step-by-step guide on how to get on her feet and take a few steps. "It's not that hard! Just watch," Ellie coaches as Charlie watches her with curious eyes. You wish you had a camera to record Ellie crawling on her hands and knees before gaining her balance, standing, and walking while explaining its mechanics. You laugh when Charlie just burps and crawls to you, lifting her arms to be picked up. "I hate to say it, but I think she may have gotten Joel's thick skull."

"She'll figure it out," you say as you kiss Charlie's cheek and bring her into the kitchen. As the weeks fly by and Charlie still refuses to walk, you try to bury your worry in your patrols. You do your best to keep Jackson safe so that Charlie can feel protected enough to take her first steps. Or that's what your logic is, at least.

On the last day of the month, you stomp snow out of your work boots outside the front door before entering your warm house. There's a fire going in the fireplace, and the promise of a warm meal greets you when you walk in the door. Joel and Ellie shout from the kitchen, followed by a very excited, "Mama!" You smile and shrug out of your jacket, ready to attack your favorite people with kisses, when Charlie scoots out to the hallway.

"What's up, Charlie girl?" You ask as you hang up your coat next to the front door. Then, without warning or preparation, Charlie plants her feet under her and stands. You freeze, and Charlie looks at you, and for a second, you swear you can read her mind. "It's okay, baby. Mama's right here for you. I won't let you get hurt, okay?" You say, crouching down and opening your arms. Joel and Ellie hear you and look confused as they step into the hallway and see Charlie standing. You think the whole world stops as she takes one step. Then another. And another until she's across the room and in your arms. You pick her up and spin her around, deliriously happy giggles leaving you as you kiss her face. "You did it, baby girl! You walked!"

"Yay, Charlie!" Ellie says as she rushes over to join in your celebration. Charlie laughs as Ellie tickles her belly and kisses her cheeks. You glance at Joel and see tears glistening in his eyes. You hold your hand out to him and take a shaky breath as he walks over, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your forehead.

"This is good, baby. Why are you crying?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"She's gettin' so big." He says, his voice cracking, and you have to fight the urge to laugh because this is what you've both wanted for so long, and now that it's happened, he wants her to be a newborn again. You let Ellie slip Charlie out of your arms and hug Joel tightly. Because, of course, after years of being tough and broody, the thing to send him over the edge is watching his youngest daughter walk toward the love of his life for the first time.

[na-ta-sh-aa]

The calm that it gave me and that I felt while reading this story was truly unique and it was so beautiful to read!

“He’s stripped down to his boxers—that’s the nice thing about it being just you and him for miles on end—and standing under the steady stream of the garden hose he’s holding above his head, blue eyes shut tightly as he allows the icy gush to wash away the dirt and grime of the day. You worry for half a second when you realize he isn’t wearing his glasses—Did he leave them somewhere?—but your shoulders instantly relax when you catch sight of them in your periphery, the sun glinting off them as they lay resting on the ledge of the window box overflowing with the weeds he hasn’t yet gotten the chance to pull.”

I loved how this part was so sexy in terms of Bob's description and at the same time so sweet and tender for her that she immediately got worried about not seeing Bob's glasses on him and immediately thought about where they could be up until he saw them🥹

“The place has no WiFi, no air conditioning, and no hot water. The floorboards creak something awful, the windows rattle at night, and you’re fairly certain there’s a family of mice taking up residence in the walls. Still, even you have to admit that the place has its charms. Charms that are easier to see since you know you’ll be leaving at the end of the week, once you and Bob finish setting a few things to rights around here.”

I loved this part so much! While I was reading it, childhood memories came back to me of when I spent the summers at my grandfather's house in the countryside and of how when we were little my sister and I enjoyed washing our hair with the water hose that was in the garden and we spent the afternoons playing with it🥹 What beautiful memories you brought back to my mind, thank you😭💗

“Thank you for coming here with me,” he whispers to you every night before you fall asleep.”

“But there’s no place else you’d rather be. You belong wherever he is.”

Aww the phrase “you belong wherever he is” shows how much she is in love with him and how important he is to her!🥹

“For me to wash your hair, silly,” you tease, booping his nose before dropping the towel to the floor and reaching for a chair from the rickety kitchen table. Before he can so much as open his mouth to reply, you already have it propped against the sink, the back perfectly level with the edge. Bending down, you scoop up the towel you’d been using before and drape it over the back of the chair.”

The sweetness of this gesture warmed my heart🥹

“And you are beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning forward once you lift the towel and pressing a kiss to the center of your chest, just above the neckline of your dress. If he can feel your heart nearly jump out of your chest, he doesn’t say anything about it.”

Aww Bob🥹

“What’re you doing?” you laugh, your bare feet tripping along the creaky floorboards as you let him guide you.”

“You took care of me,” he says softly, blue eyes twinkling as he rests his forehead against yours, his hands resting securely on your waist. “Now I’m going to take care of you.”

Aww I loved this so much and I loved that this story gave me a cyclical feel to the fact that in my opinion it started and ended with a part that was sexy and sweet at the same time!

The sweetness, love, tranquility and calm that this story conveyed to me are truly unique, and it was truly a pleasure to read it! The sweet way you wrote it was wonderful, I loved how you managed to transform a gesture that may seem normal, like washing your hair, into such an intimate and peaceful moment of love🥹 I loved reading this so so much! 💗💗

scenes from the kitchen sink

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: A little moment inspired by that hair washing scene from Water Rises. That movie may have stressed me out, but at least it gave us plenty of domestic Lew content!

Warnings: Domestic fluff and the tiniest of innuendos (if you squint).

Smiling, the hem of your sundress brushing against your calves in the late afternoon breeze, you step out onto the back porch in your bare feet, crossing your arms over your chest and resting your head against the door jamb to better admire him.

He’s stripped down to his boxers—that’s the nice thing about it being just you and him for miles on end—and standing under the steady stream of the garden hose he’s holding above his head, blue eyes shut tightly as he allows the icy gush to wash away the dirt and grime of the day. You worry for half a second when you realize he isn’t wearing his glasses—Did he leave them somewhere?—but your shoulders instantly relax when you catch sight of them in your periphery, the sun glinting off them as they lay resting on the ledge of the window box overflowing with the weeds he hasn’t yet gotten the chance to pull.

It’s silly of you to fret about it, you think with an amused curve of your lips. Bob never goes anywhere without his glasses.

His eyes still closed and his back to you, you continue to gaze upon him, struck not for the first time by just how beautiful he is. Water droplets cling to the broad expanse of his freckled back, winking at you as they catch the sunlight. His muscles ripple with every movement, and your stomach clenches as you recall how they’d felt stretched taut beneath your fingertips that morning.

He looks so right here, so at home standing half naked on the grass outside the little two and a half room cabin the two of you have turned into your own personal love nest these past few days. You know he’s glad that he volunteered to come here, to straighten things up at his grandpa’s old fishing cabin that hasn’t been touched in over five years.

The place has no WiFi, no air conditioning, and no hot water. The floorboards creak something awful, the windows rattle at night, and you’re fairly certain there’s a family of mice taking up residence in the walls. Still, even you have to admit that the place has its charms. Charms that are easier to see since you know you’ll be leaving at the end of the week, once you and Bob finish setting a few things to rights around here.

“Thank you for coming here with me,” he whispers to you every night before you fall asleep.

But there’s no place else you’d rather be. You belong wherever he is.

Even if that means showering with a rusty old garden hose. 

Which, considering the veritable deathtrap the shower in the cabin is, it does.

Your chest tightens as you watch Bob wash the day’s hard-earned sweat away, your heart filled nearly to bursting with love for him as he bounces on the balls of his feet, gritting his teeth and bearing it as the cold water trickles down his back and snakes a path along his legs, pooling in the dirt at his feet. As soon as he’s able, he’s running to twist the spigot off, winding the hose up in a neat pile before reaching for his glasses.

When he turns his head and catches sight of you standing at the back door, watching him, his face lights up in a way that sets your pulse racing.

No one’s ever looked at you like that except for Bob Floyd.

“C’mere,” you tell him softly, crooking your finger at him to draw him closer.

“I’m all wet,” he murmurs ruefully, stopping short a foot or so away from you.

“I don’t care,” you grin, holding out your arms, which he gladly steps into. You can feel the warmth emanating from his body even as the chilly water droplets seep through the thin cotton of your sundress.

With him still standing in the grass and you at a slightly elevated position in the doorway, you’re able to look down at his wet locks, glistening in the waning afternoon light. You run your fingers through his hair gently, feeling the way it knots even as you try to smooth it down.

Bob makes a valiant effort to hide his wince, but you spot it all the same.

“I know just the thing you need,” you whisper to him, dropping a kiss on his forehead before reaching for his hand and tugging him inside the cabin.

“Where’re you going?” he asks with a laugh as he stands shivering in the small kitchen, his eyebrows rising above the rims of his glasses as you move hurriedly out of the room.

“To get you a towel!” you call back, already in the bedroom and digging through your bags.

When you return a moment later, however, it’s with more than a towel in hand.

Bob watches with a quizzical expression on his handsome face as you set down your shampoo and conditioner bottles next to the kitchen sink on your way to come wrap a warm towel around his shoulders.

“You want to wash off, too, honey?” he asks sweetly, looking down at you as you towel him off. “I can hold the hose up for you.”

“No,” you reply with a smile, shaking your head and meeting his blue eyes. “Not right now.”

“Then what’s that for?” he questions, gesturing towards the bottles of coconut-scented shampoo and conditioner.

“For me to wash your hair, silly,” you tease, booping his nose before dropping the towel to the floor and reaching for a chair from the rickety kitchen table. Before he can so much as open his mouth to reply, you already have it propped against the sink, the back perfectly level with the edge. Bending down, you scoop up the towel you’d been using before and drape it over the back of the chair.

Bob just stares at you in surprise, rubbing the back of his neck as the tips of his ears turn pink. “Aw, sweetheart, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” you cut him off, your eyes twinkling. “I want to. Now sit,” you command, resting your hands on his bare shoulders and gently pushing him down into the seat.

“But you don’t have to use your shampoo,” he protests as he lowers down into the chair. “Isn’t it expensive? My shampoo should be in my—”

“Robert Floyd, I love you, but that 3-in-1 shampoo you travel with is a crime against humanity,” you laugh, making a face to underscore your point. “Probably explains all these knots,” you add, lightly tugging on his sandy brown hair.

“Fair enough.” he mumbles sheepishly in response.

Giggling softly, you bend down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Just relax and enjoy, honey. Let me take care of you.”

Before you can reach to turn the faucet on, Bob snags your wrist and uses the momentum to pull you back down to him, his lips skimming yours as a smile stretches across his face.

“Okay,” he murmurs, pecking the corner of your mouth before you can straighten back up. “Thank you.”

Even after all this time, he still manages to throw you off-kilter in the very best of ways. Your cheeks feel warm and your heart is singing when you pull back and reach for the faucet a second time, managing to turn the water on this time.

It’s just as cold as the water from the hose, but your hands are warm and gentle as they tip his head backwards, thoroughly rinsing his hair and running your fingers through it once again.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the world’s softest hair?” you query, admiring his glistening locks as they catch the light filtering in through the small window above the sink, the one you had spent about an hour scrubbing the day before.

“Hmm,” he hums softly, his eyes closed and his long fingers laced together across his chest as he loses himself in the feel of your delicate hands in his hair. “Well, you certainly have. On more than one occasion,” he teases, cracking one eye open and gazing up at you.

You grin in response, ducking your head to peck his oh-s0-kissable lips. “At least I’m consistent,” you joke in return, nudging his nose with your own before straightening and reaching for your bottle of coconut milk shampoo.

“That you are,” Bob smiles, bunching up the fabric of your sundress as he raises his hands to grab hold of your waist.

“Don’t distract me,” you giggle, shaking the bottle and squeezing a quarter-sized dollop of shampoo into your palm.

He lets out a soft groan as soon as you run both your hands through his hair, the tropical scent of coconuts filling the distinctly midwestern air. “Feels nice,” he confesses, dropping his hands back down to his chest as he stretches his long legs out in front of him and relaxes further into your touch.

“Good,” you murmur softly, a small furrow appearing between your brows as you concentrate on lathering the shampoo through his honey brown locks. You’d once told him, in a loopy state of exhaustion, that the color of his hair reminded you of Teddy Grahams. To this day, he still finds it hilarious and buys you boxes of the little teddy-shaped crackers whenever you go grocery shopping.

Bob sighs softly as you scratch your fingernails against his scalp, his slightly sunburned chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that matches the beat of your heart. You can see, as well as feel, the tension oozing out of his body, the stress from a long several days of labor being washed away with the coconut suds. Your hands still for a moment as you simply gaze down at him, suddenly moved beyond words at the total trust and vulnerability in his posture.

You must pause for longer than you realize because suddenly those cerulean eyes are fixed on your face from behind his wire-frame glasses, a small smile crinkling the corners of his mouth.

“Getting tired?” he asks with a playful nudge, letting his fingers run over the soft cotton of your dress.

Shaking your head, you smile sheepishly, your hands getting back to work. “Just admiring the view,” you admit, feeling your skin grow warm at the way he looks at you in response.

“Me, too,” he says in a low voice, turning his head ever so slightly to press a kiss to the inside of your forearm.

You massage his scalp for a few minutes longer, then reach for the faucet once more to rinse his hair out, gently detangling all the knots as you do so. Good thing you grabbed the conditioner as well.

“Conditioner, too? I’m really getting the royal treatment,” he chuckles when he feels you rubbing it through the ends of his hair. It’s gotten a little longer while he’s been on leave. He’ll have to cut it again soon enough, but you’re enjoying it while you can.

“Only the best for you, Lieutenant,” you grin, rewarded for your comment by the adorable blush spreading across his skin.

Bob’s eyes pop open again and he watches you this time as you carefully tend to him, so focused on taking care of him and making him feel good.

“C’mere,” he whispers, the husky tone in his voice turning your knees to melted butter as he reaches up and tugs on your waist, pulling you down into a kiss while your hands still rest in his hair.

You’re not sure if it’s just something in this fresh country air, but his kiss tastes like sunshine and wildflowers.

You can feel the “I love you” mouthed against your skin, his lips closing around your bottom lip as he bites down softly.

It takes every ounce of willpower you possess to pull back, a small laugh bubbling up in your throat when you see his little pout, his mouth still searching for yours.

“Let me finish,” you murmur soothingly, washing the conditioner out of his hair.

You let the frigid water cascade over his head a few minutes longer than necessary, your fingers turning to ice as you continue to card them through his Teddy Graham hair. It's only when you see the goosebumps rising on his shoulders that you finally turn the water off, squeezing the ends of his hair in a gentle fist to release some of the excess droplets.

“All done,” you say, laughing when he sits up and begins shaking his head back and forth, looking suspiciously like his family dog. “Stop, stop!” you scold him good-naturedly, reaching for the towel on the back of the chair.

“My goodness, you are impossible,” you tease, stepping between his legs and draping the towel over his head, scrubbing his hair as he reaches up and links his hands behind your back, trapping you against him.

“And you are beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning forward once you lift the towel and pressing a kiss to the center of your chest, just above the neckline of your dress. If he can feel your heart nearly jump out of your chest, he doesn’t say anything about it.

“There, good as new,” you hum, pleased with your work as you watch the silky soft strands of his freshly washed hair glide through your fingers. “And now you smell like coconuts, too,” you add with a grin.

Bob only smiles in response as he slowly stands up, wrapping you in his arms and kissing you soundly.

He still has his arms around you as he kicks the forgotten towel away and begins walking you backwards out of the kitchen and in the direction of the small bedroom, the one with the rickety full-size bed the two of you have been sharing since your arrival.

“What’re you doing?” you laugh, your bare feet tripping along the creaky floorboards as you let him guide you.

“You took care of me,” he says softly, blue eyes twinkling as he rests his forehead against yours, his hands resting securely on your waist. “Now I’m going to take care of you.”