#and i think in those first 18 years i spent living with them so many parts of me died before they even had the chance to be born

[yardsards]

how to explain to your parents that you can't move back in with them because every time you're near them a big part of you buries itself and you're not sure how long that part can stay buried before its hidey hole becomes its grave?

...without offending them, of course

[wheresarizona]

Bluebonnet

summary: Is Joel Miller your friend? No. You’re not even sure if he actually likes you or just puts up with you because of his kid. Then he kicks some guy's ass in a bar for getting handsy with you, and you’re starting to think maybe he might like you a little…

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, Grumpy Joel Miller, Protective Joel Miller, Soft Joel Miller, age gap (unspecified but reader was born before the outbreak), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, oral sex (f + m receiving), 69 position, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, spit mention, slight breeding kink, Joel has a big dick, Joel being kinda a dick, a random guy harassing you then getting beat up by Joel, canon typical violence, icing Joel’s knuckles, feelings confessions, Ellie being Ellie and the star of the show, AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and their relationship is still good)

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader

word count: 5.5k+

a/n: Literally, a scene in this woke me up from dead sleep at five in the goddamn morning, and I spent thirty minutes plotting the whole one shot while barely awake. This fic was very spur of the moment that I wrote in less than two days, so it’s unbeta’d. All mistakes are my own. Please be horny about Joel protecting you with me.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist

Is Joel Miller your friend? 

No. 

Are you on friendly terms?

You thought so. 

Joel isn’t the most social of fellas—he’s basically a feral cat that wants to be left alone.

If you aren’t friends with him, then how did you become the regular occupant of the seat across from his in the Jackson mess hall every breakfast and dinner? 

The answer is simple: Ellie. 

It all started months ago when you first got to Jackson and met the teen after being assigned to a job rotation with her. She was so excited about finding out you lived in Texas for many years before the world went to hell she invited you to eat dinner with her so you could meet someone, and that’s how you were introduced to Austin-native Joel Miller. 

He’s a bit older than you, never smiles, and isn’t much of a talker but still polite enough to answer a question if you ask it, even if it’s more of a grumble at the start of the day. With Ellie, though, it was different. He talked to her, and his voice was like coming home after a long day and settling in on the couch—that familiar Texan accent making you feel all warm and comfy, his words wrapping around you like a tight blanket and taking you back to a time when things were good and safe. 

The morning after the first dinner, Ellie had called you over to sit with them for breakfast, and again that evening, little bits of conversation happening between bites as you got a grasp on what the relationship was between this young girl and man—it was clearly father-daughter in nature even if she didn’t call him ‘dad,’ and you savored every word she wheedled out of him. 

It got to the point where the teenager didn’t have to beckon you over, and you just knew to set your food down in the seat in front of Joel to eat with them, always smiling at Ellie giving him so much shit, chatting with them or more the young girl, with Joel occasionally offering clipped anecdotes, and you trying not to acknowledge his handsomeness—you weren’t sure if he even liked you or if he was just putting up with you for the sake of his kid.  

He does have a lovely voice and is very attractive with those expressive chocolate-colored eyes that sometimes soften when he looks at his daughter; you could imagine his grey hair would be soft to the touch, and it’s obvious those full lips of his are kissable. Honestly, it’s surprising he’s not seeing anyone that you know of or Ellie is aware of, with how damn pretty he is.

His broad shoulders and how his flannels stretch over his chest. 

His neck. 

God, he’s sure nice to look at. 

And Ellie is a great kid who trusted you, coming to you anytime she needed advice or wanted to talk about something, and you were happy to be there for her. 

The breakfast and dinner routine had been going on for so long that even though Joel didn’t talk at length to you, you’d managed to learn quite a bit about him from questions he’d answer or conversations he had with his kid or brother in front of you. He definitely knew a lot about you, too. 

Now, back to why you’re not sure if he likes you. 

That morning when you went to breakfast, you were running on autopilot—piled your plate with food, grabbed your cup of shitty coffee that made you want to cry with how much you missed Starbucks, and set it all down in your usual spot, where you started to eat. 

When your brain finally began working, that’s when you realized it was abnormally quiet at your table, and you looked up to realize Ellie wasn’t there—it was just Joel. He must have seen some kind of look on your face since he grumbled out she was with a friend. Then when you asked if he wanted you to sit somewhere else, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he told you no before going back to eating in silence.

That put a point in the maybe he wasn’t just putting up with you for the sake of his daughter column and made you smile a little the rest of the meal.  

She wasn’t at dinner either.

This had you standing near your seat, chewing on your lip, debating on sitting elsewhere until Joel sighed loudly, setting down his fork to tell you in a tone that brokered no room for argument to sit, so you did. 

After a few bites, you almost choked to death when he asked how your day was. 

There was actual back and forth between just the two of you, and you were in heaven at how much he was speaking, another point going toward he might like you. 

Those interactions had you feeling really hopeful, and you were excited for breakfast the next day, wondering if he’d try to talk to you more. 

It’s been over half a year since you arrived in town, and you have managed to make some friends, who you knew for sure were your friends, and also closer to your age. When a couple of them asked if you wanted to get a drink that night and play some pool, you happily agreed. 

The place is practically empty when you arrive. 

Standing at the bar, chatting with your friend Mathias as you wait for the bartender to make your drinks, you can feel someone staring at you. Doing a quick glance of the room has your stomach dropping and is the reason you’re pretty fucking sure Joel doesn’t care for you; he’s sitting across the room at a table in the corner, glaring at you—not just glaring, if looks could kill you’d be deader than dead he looks so pissed off, and you’re about to go find out what his problem is when two things happen:

Mathias excuses himself to the restroom, and some man you’ve never seen, let alone spoken to, gets your attention on your other side. 

“Hey.” The interloper squeezes your arm, which makes your head turn toward him, shaking him off.

“Don’t touch me,” you reply. 

There’s nothing special about the guy—he’s probably younger than you, has floppy blonde hair, and a clean-shaven face, but something in his eyes made you feel uneasy. 

“My apologies,” he says, putting up his hands placatingly. “This is my first night here, and I’m just trying to make a new friend. Have a drink with me.” 

“Welcome to Jackson, and no, thank you, I’m here with friends.” 

“I’m sure they won’t mind if you have one drink with me.” His voice goes lower, “We could have some real fun together.” He has the audacity to grab your ass, and you step out of his reach. 

“I said don’t fucking touch me.” 

The bartender has gone into the back, Mathias is nowhere in sight, and your other friend is in another room where the pool table is with the jukebox playing. 

Something flashes in his eyes, and it has your heart pounding. 

“Don’t be like that. Just one drink,” he says, coming closer. 

You are readying to fight the bastard when all of a sudden, someone is grabbing his collar, and you see a fist connect with his face in a sickening crunch that makes you gasp. 

Joel yanks the guy in front of him. 

“She said not to fuckin’ touch her,” he grits through his teeth. “And that she didn’t wanna have a drink with you.” 

“I’m sorry,” the other man wheezes, blood oozing from his clearly broken nose. “I’ll leave.” 

“Yes, you fuckin’ will—after I teach you some fuckin’ manners.” 

With that, he punches him again and again and again.

You’re no damsel in distress—you’ve survived the fucking apocalypse for the last twenty years practically alone and could easily fight your way out of dangerous situations. But having someone stand up for you and protect you? It’s really doing it for you, except you’re genuinely worried Joel will murder this man, so you move toward him. 

“Stop, Joel!” you shout, pushing on his shoulder, and he does immediately, his eyes meeting yours. “He’ll leave; toss him out. Please, Joel. Don’t kill him.” 

His chest rises and falls as he pants, nodding his head once before hauling the groaning man to the door and throwing him out. The bartender chose that moment to come back, as well as your friend. 

There was a worried expression on Mathias’ face. “Is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you answer. The drinks are sitting on the bartop, and you gesture toward them. “I’ve got something to do, so take those for me, okay?” 

Confusion is etched on his brow. “Okay…?” He strategically picks up the three glasses and heads for the other room with the pool table. 

Your attention moves to the man behind the bar. “Hey, can I get some ice in a rag?” 

“Sure thing,” he replies, going to the block and using the ice pick. 

Joel didn’t return to you. Instead, he went back to his table like the last however many minutes didn’t happen, and it makes you sigh. 

His mixed signals have you so confused you’re ready to just get it all out in the open. 

The bartender hands you some ice wrapped in a towel, and you walk over to Joel, having to drag the seat across from his around so you’re next to him, seeing his right hand shaking around his glass with bloodied knuckles. 

He won’t even look at you. 

“Give me your hand,” you order him. 

“I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not. Give me your fucking hand.” 

“No.” 

“Stop being a stubborn asshole, and let me ice your fucking knuckles.”

“I said I’m fine.” 

He won’t give you his hand, so you do the next best thing and press the ice against them while they hold his drink, Joel hissing at the coldness. 

His head turns to glare at you. 

“Don’t give me that look.” You glare right back. “I’m helping you.” 

“I don’t need your help,” he practically spits out. 

Taking a deep breath, you ready yourself for what you’re going to say. 

“We had a nice dinner,” you tell him. 

His eyebrows furrow. 

“What?” 

“We had a nice dinner with just the two of us where we talked—you didn’t smile, but it was the most you’ve ever said to me, and this morning, you let me eat with you. You’re not a people person, and I wasn’t sure if you liked me all that much, but our meals today made me think you might. Then tonight you were glaring at me—”

“When was I glarin’ at you?” he interrupts. 

“Before that creep started getting handsy.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t lookin’ at you…” His eyes dart away. 

You’re confused. 

“There’s like no one here. Who were you looking at?” 

He sighs loudly. “Your boyfriend,” he mumbles. 

“Huh?” 

“Your boyfriend—the guy you’re here with.” 

“Oh, Mathias? I’m not his type, and he’s already in a relationship. I don’t have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, or a partner—I’m not seeing anyone. You should know this.” 

“Oh.” 

“Okay, so you weren’t glaring at me, you were glaring at my non-existent boyfriend, and then you came in hot like some knight in shining armor and beat the shit out of that asshole for doing me wrong. Sooo, you maybe like me?” 

He looked at you with a squinted gaze, like the answer was obvious. 

“I more than maybe like you,” he replies. 

That has your eyes widening. 

“Wait, in the romantic or platonic sense?” 

“There’s no point in talkin’ about this,” he sighs, looking down at the amber liquid in his cup. 

“Um, yes, there is because if I have a shot at breaking off a piece of this Kit Kat bar, I’d like to take it.” 

His gaze met yours, and you could see the hope swirling in the dark pools. 

“In the, uh, romantic or platonic sense?” 

Smiling, you answer, “Romantic—I’ve basically been crushing on you since I met you. We’ve known each other for months, almost a year. You’re such a good father to Ellie, a hard worker around town, and you let some random person sit with you during your meals—”

It takes your breath away when he smiles softly and talks when you pause, “You’re not some random person, and I would’ve been stupid to turn away such a beautiful woman.” 

“Oh, god, you’re hot and charming.” He chuckles, and your heart picks up in pace. “How are you making me like you more?” 

“I don’t know, Blue.” 

“Blue?” 

“As in Bluebonnet.” 

Which was Texas’ state flower and makes you feel so soft at how sweet the nickname is. 

“I love it.” 

The smile falls from his face. 

“You, uh, don’t mind my age?” He scratches at his mustache. 

Ellie had made you very aware of how old Joel was. 

“No? I think you’re extremely attractive. Does the age difference bother you?” 

“No.” He shakes his head. 

“What now?” you ask. 

“Jesus, it’s been so fuckin’ long,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I guess I’ll court you—take you on a proper date.” 

“Second option, that’s more immediate, and we can go with your plan tomorrow.” 

He looks at you. 

“Yeah?” 

“Is Ellie home tonight?” 

His eyebrows dip together. 

“Yeah?” 

Smirking, you say, “Okay, so why don’t we go back to my place, and I properly thank you for what you did tonight.” 

You see his throat bob as he swallows, his voice going deeper when he asks, “How do you wanna thank me?” 

A smile pulls up on your lips, moving forward to whisper in his good ear, “I was thinking I’d suck your dick.” His breath stutters. “Then have you fuck me however you want.” That makes him groan, and you grin. 

His hand moves out from under the ice and up to cradle your face, along with the other, when his body turns, making you look him in the eyes.

“I was stupid for leavin’ you alone ‘cause I assumed you wouldn’t want anythin’ to do with someone as old as me.” 

You snort. “Uh, yeah. You went a little hard with the leaving me alone, but I’ll forgive you if you kiss me right now.” 

No other words are said. His mouth crushes against yours, swallowing your surprised sound as he kisses you hard. Your fingers end up tangling in his grey waves of hair, your heart hammering in your chest and pulsing at the apex of your thighs. It’s obvious he hasn’t kissed in a while, and you’re in the same boat, both of you figuring things out until there’s a rhythm, and things are heating up with a slip of your tongue into his mouth to slide along his. The need inside you builds and builds until your lungs start to ache for oxygen, and you break apart, his nose nuzzling yours as you both pant with a smile on your lips. 

“Let’s go,” he says, and you don’t have to be told twice.  

He washed his hands before you left the bar, so it wasn’t obvious he’d just been in a fight. 

Having Joel lead you through town is like having a big, scary dog on a leash with how people get out of his way. It’s a little surprising he even knows where you live when you find yourself walking through your front gate. 

“How—”

“Ellie,” he answers before you even ask the question, his feet stomping up the two porch steps and you following. “She’s free to hang out with whoever and go wherever. I just ask she tells me where she’ll be.” 

“That’s very ‘cool dad’ of you.” 

You’re standing at the front door, him out of your way. 

“She’s not allowed to leave Jackson without me. If I tell her to stay away from someone, she stays away from them. I expect her to be a model citizen and do the jobs she’s required to do. Unless we talked beforehand, she must be home in time for breakfast and dinner.” 

“So, today, you knew it’d just be the two of us?” 

“She asked last night to stay at Cat’s house.” That’s Ellie’s best friend. “They’re staying over at our place tonight.” 

“Probably won’t even notice you’re missing then,” you say with a smile. The door’s unlocked, and you push it open before turning to grab Joel by the collar, pulling him in for a kiss as he walks you backward into the house with his arms wrapping around your back. 

It’s a tangle of tongues, a clash of teeth, one of Joel’s hands moving to massage your breast while your fingers worked open the buttons on his shirt, him shrugging it off by the time you make it to your bedroom door you led him to. Once inside, he strips you first, spending quite a bit of time licking and sucking on your tits when they’re bared and stopping you when you try to work open his pants, learning he’s really fucking strong when he easily tosses you onto the middle of the bed. 

Quickly, you’re sitting up on your knees, and you get a good look at the sizable bulge at the front of his jeans; Joel standing there with his hands on his hips, staring at your body with a hungry gaze, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. Scars are littering the golden expanse of skin on his front and arms of varying sizes, a newer one you spot on his lower torso, all of them telling you he’s fought like hell to make it to this point. 

Shuffling forward, you’re tired of waiting, your hands going to the button on the front of his pants. Joel’s palm engulfs yours to stop you, his head tilting down to meet your confused eyes. 

“You don’t need to suck my dick for what I did,” he says. 

“Okay. What if I just want to suck your dick for the hell of it?”

His lips tip up in a crooked smile, and you’re enjoying seeing his different smiles. 

“Then have at it, but I wanna lick your pussy until you come on my tongue.” 

You suck in a breath, your cunt clenching hard around nothing. 

“If you can get me off with your mouth, you’re not gonna be able to get rid of me.” 

His eyebrow arches. “Is that so?” 

“Yeah. You’ll be stuck with me.” 

There’d been enough talking, so you deftly popped open the button and pulled down the zipper, grabbing the waistband to tug his jeans down his thighs. You’re pleasantly surprised he goes commando, and then you get a good look at his hard cock, and it’s glorious. 

He’s thick, long, with a nice curve upwards, and you’re wondering if you’ll be able to fit him in your mouth—you’re definitely up for the challenge, licking your lips at the thought. Your fingers don’t even wrap all the way around him when you take him in hand, giving him a few quick strokes. 

“Wait,” he says, stopping your movements. 

“What?” you ask, looking up at him. 

“Hold on,” is all he replies, getting his pants the rest of the way down, kicking them off, and removing his socks. Walking around the side of your queen size bed, you’re turning in place to follow his movements as he gets on the mattress with a groan and the springs squeaking as he moves to the middle, his legs on either side of you, grabbing one of your pillows to put under his head that he lifts to look at you. “Sit on my face.” It’s an order, and he pats his chest to show you he means it. 

“I thought I was giving you a blow job…?” You point at his dick resting against his stomach. 

“You are,” he replies. “We’re doin’ both. Now, get up here,” he orders again, his face grumpy, patting his chest once more. 

“Sheesh,” you say, moving over his leg and up the bed, thankful you showered before you went out. “You’re really bossy when you’re horny.” 

When you’re within reach, he replies, “I’ll show you fuckin’ bossy,” and he puts his strength to work again, grunting while hauling you onto him with your back to his head and legs along his sides. His hand lands on the side of your ass in a sharp slap that makes you gasp, feeling the wetness between your legs, coating your inner thighs. “I’m eatin’ this pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he says, positioning you over his face, his hand giving your asscheek another hard spank causing you to clench. “And you’re gonna wrap that gorgeous fuckin’ mouth around my cock.”

You can’t respond because all train of thought leaves your brain when his mouth latches onto your cunt, feeling him groan into your sensitive skin, the sensations making your toes curl, and fire erupt in your center. 

“Oh my god, Joel,” you moan. “It’s so good. It’s so fucking good.” 

It takes a deep breath for you to focus on your task, spitting on your hand before grasping his hard dick in your palm, the tip red and shiny with his arousal, lowering your face to take him into your mouth. He’s salty on your tongue, your jaw open as wide as it will go as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head, stroking the considerable amount that won’t fit. 

His hands have a firm grip on your hips, pulling you farther down on his face, and you’re really worried he’s going to suffocate while he eats you out like a man starving. Pleasure in winding in your belly, tighter and tighter, with how he’s licking at your folds, your eyes rolling back in your head when he sucks your sensitive little clit between his lips.

He’s really going to make you come, and it feels so fucking good you’re having a hard time sucking his cock, so lost in what he’s doing to you—saliva is dripping out of your mouth and down his shaft, making your hand slide easily along him while you have half a mind to suckle on the head of him. 

You hit your breaking point suddenly, the coil inside you snapping, your body tensing up as you come with a loud moan, euphoria spreading out from your core. Joel groans into your cunt, his tongue pushing inside your sopping entrance to taste your release straight from the source, his hands grabbing handfuls of your ass and squeezing hard.  

He must get his fill because he moves you off his face, hearing him take a deep breath. 

“My good fuckin’ girl,” he says through panted breaths, rubbing your hips, his words causing a shiver to move down your spine. “Am I stuck with you?” 

You’d given up on blowing him, your forehead resting against his thigh. 

“Yeah,” you slur, sounding drunk. “How are you single?” It’s been a while since you’ve had that good of an orgasm. 

He sighs and taps your hip. “Turn around, baby.” 

Doing your best to turn, Joel helps you, getting you to straddle over his lower torso, your hands finding their place on his warm, flushed chest, seeing the grey hairs of his beard shining with your arousal and his lips frowning. 

“Like you said earlier,” he says. “I’m not a people person.” 

Your eyebrows knit together. 

“I’m people…” 

“No, you’re not. You’re my Texas Bluebonnet—my Blue.” His large palm comes up to stroke your cheek. 

You’re wondering something. “Why did you talk to me at dinner?” 

A sheepish look comes over his face. “‘Cause we were alone, and I didn’t have to worry about Ellie teasin’ me in front of you about my crush.” 

“She knows?”

He grimaces. “Suspects. Since there’s only three people on this godforsaken planet I like, and you’re one of them.” 

“And I’m the only one who’s not family—oh, that’s obvious.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Well, how do you want me?” 

He looks confused. “Huh?” 

“I said you can fuck me however you want,” you answer, sliding your hands up his pecs. “How do you want me, babe?” 

When he smiles this time, you get a glimpse of his teeth. “Ride me.”

His answer has you grinning. “Cowgirl, like a true Texan.” 

“I just love your tits,” he says, his big hands palming them. 

“Good to know,” you reply with a wink. 

Sitting up on your knees, you scoot back to get over his hips. His dick is still wet with your spit when you grab it and slide it through your folds before positioning him at your entrance. 

There are nerves swirling in your belly, your eyes landing on his dark ones as you slowly start to drop down, seeing his mouth fall open with a gasp, his hands grabbing onto your thighs. You knew there’d be a stretch, but he’s bordering on uncomfortable in how your walls have to expand for his size, feeling the slight burn. When you finally bottom out, you’re beyond full—you’ve never felt fuller, and it takes your breath away. 

“Jesus Christ,” his words are said through his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t move.”

His hard cock is throbbing inside you. 

“Been a while?” 

“Yeah.”

“Same. You’re so fucking big I’m gonna be sore after this.”

His dick jerks as he groans, “Don’t say that.”  

“Damn, you’re that close?” you ask, soothingly stroking your hands over his chest. 

You watch as his eyes blink open, the grumpy expression you’re used to appearing on his face. 

“Don’t make fun of me.” He slaps your ass. “I haven’t fucked in a long time, and now I’m inside the perfect pussy—you’d be strugglin’ too if you were me.”

“I’m not making fun of you, Joel.” You lean forward to cup his cheek, feeling prickling stubble under your palm. “I think it’s hot. Like, you have no idea how flattered I’d be if I made you come right away—talk about an ego boost.”

He doesn’t look convinced, his eyes narrowing.  

“Are you just sayin’ that to make me feel better?”

“Nope.” To prove your point, you sit up, bracing yourself with your hands on his chest as you start circling your hips. 

His mouth goes slack, his eyes widening, a choked noise pulling from his throat that makes you smirk. “Fuck,” he pants. There’s sweat beading on his forehead, his cheeks a rosy pink. “You fit me like a fuckin’ glove.” 

You’re slowly building into an up-and-down motion, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock rubbing against spots you didn’t know existed, sparks of pleasure igniting in your center as you throw your head back. 

He must get a hold of himself because both of his hands come down on each of your asscheeks in loud, resounding smacks before he’s gripping them to help you move. 

Looking down at him, there’s concentration on his brow. 

“Your tight little pussy is takin’ me so fuckin’ well,” he says, hearing the wet sounds where you’re joined. “You love how I stretch you open?” 

“Yes,” you moan. 

You’re moving a little faster, moving up, and falling down a little harder, making the fire in your belly get hotter and hotter. 

“Lean down.” 

Doing as he says, your hands are on either side of his head while he continues helping you ride him. He lifts his face to pull a pebbled nipple between his lips, and the pleasure shoots straight to your pussy, making you gasp and more arousal spill around his length. 

He laves at one bud, then the other as you work yourself up, the new angle allowing the coarse hairs at the base of his cock to rub deliciously against your clit, and you know you’re close.

Joel is groaning loudly, clearly in heaven, with his dick inside you and his mouth on your tits. 

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he says around your hard nipple. “You gonna let me feel you squeeze my dick? Let me fuckin’ have it. Be a good fuckin’ girl and give it to me.” 

It’s all too much, everything coming to a head as you fall over the edge with a cry of his name, clenching so hard around him, you’ve stopped moving with his cock buried to the root, pleasure radiating through your body. 

Joel’s breathing hard under you, and you don’t sound any better while you come down from your high. 

His arms suddenly hug you close to him, and you squeak in surprise when he flips you onto your back with his dick still inside you and his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs. Lips find yours in a searing kiss, moaning as you taste yourself, welcoming his tongue when it slips into your mouth to tangle with your own. 

He starts moving to chase his high, his thrusts hard and fast. 

The bedsprings are squeaking loudly, the headboard banging into the wall, hearing the wet suck of your pussy taking his cock and your muffled moans paired with his muffled groans. There’s no mistaking what’s happening in this bedroom, and you just hope your neighbors don’t complain in the morning. 

Your fingers have threaded into his hair, your bodies sweaty, his lips leave yours, opening your eyes to see his face screwed up like he’s in pain. 

“Where do you want it?” he grits out. 

If he’s asking, then he knows the risk. 

“Inside.” 

He opens his eyes wide. “Are you sure?” 

It is a rare thing to want these days. 

“Yes.” 

His pace speeds up, grunting as he pistons into you, resting his head in the crook of your neck, feeling his hot breaths. 

“You can fuckin’ have it,” he grunts. “Fuck you full of me—milk me fuckin’ dry. Fuck, you’re perfect.” 

You know he’s close when his thrusts get jerky, then he’s pushing in hard one last time with a guttural groan, feeling the hot spurts of his come filling you, his hips continuing to roll until they finally come to a complete stop. It’s obvious he’s wrung out with how he practically collapses on top of you, but you welcome the weight, pushing your fingers into his hair and scratching at his scalp, which receives appreciative hums. 

Minutes pass that neither of you speaks. 

“‘M sorry,” the words are murmured into your neck. 

“For what?” you softly ask.

“Makin’ you think I didn’t like you.” 

“It’s kinda my fault, too. I mean, I am aware you don’t like people but you’ve eaten two meals a day with me for almost a year, so obviously you must like me somewhat.” 

His head comes up with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips frowning. 

“I like you more than somewhat.” 

You smile. His hair is a mess, and you go about combing your fingers through it as you say, “Yes, I know that now. You like me.” 

“I do.” 

“And I like you.” 

“Good.” 

“I said you’re stuck with me, so can this be more than a one-time thing?” 

His eyes squint in that same way where he thinks something is obvious. 

“What?" he says. "I’m not lettin’ you go anywhere. You’re mine—my Blue.” 

“Good. ‘Cause you’re mine, too.” 

He kisses you passionately, and you lose yourself in it for a second until a thought has your eyes flying open and you pushing his face away. 

“What?” he asks, bewildered. 

“How are you going to tell Ellie?” 

“Shit. Uh, we can sit her down tomorrow night—”

“No, this is a conversation you need to have with her alone.” 

He winces. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow night after dinner...” 

Is Joel Miller your boyfriend? 

He absolutely hates you giving him that label, grumbling he prefers partner, but yes, he is your boyfriend. 

Did Joel sneak out of your house in the early morning hours to his own so Ellie wouldn’t know he was gone all night?

Also, yes. 

It’s the morning after, and you’re trying to act normal, ignoring how nervous you feel and the soreness between your legs as you sit down in your usual spot in front of Joel with your plate of breakfast. He’s changed into clean clothes and looks like he hasn’t slept, sipping on one of the two cups of shitty coffee in front of him, Ellie next to him already digging into some oatmeal with her spoon, which makes you realize—

“Ah, fuck,” you say, both of them looking at you. “I forgot to grab a fork.” 

“I’ll get you one, baby,” Joel says as he sets his coffee down and starts to get up.

The three of you go completely still. Your eyes are wide, Joel’s close in regret, his cheeks turning pink, and Ellie looks like she’s going to explode with excitement until—

“You guys FUCKED!” she shouts. 

People around the mess hall turn to stare. 

“Ellie,” Joel hisses, his head whipping toward her. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she says in a quieter voice, the rest of the room returning to eating. “I knew it! It’s about fucking time! So when are you getting married?” She’s looking between the two of you. “You know, I’ve always wanted a mom! And a brother! I’ll settle for a sister, though. Is she moving in with us, Joel?” She’s staring at him expectantly with a grin. 

Joel’s face is bright red. “I’m gettin’ the fuckin’ fork,” he grumbles as he gets up from his seat. 

Masterlist

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[witchthewriter]

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

a/n: nsfw included

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

INFJ

Slytherin

Chaotic Neutral > Good

Gemini Sun, Leo Moon, Cancer Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・Loki loves you no matter what size you are or how you look on the outside

・Even though your insecurities are valid, it doesn’t mean Loki sees them as such. They know how much your thoughts affect you. So they do the best they can, to make you feel comfortable in your own skin

・In different cultures beauty is recognised differently.

・What is known as "beautiful" on Earth, isn't the same everywhere else (hell, even different countries have a different view on beauty).

・And with Loki who has seen many things over the course of his life, what he deems as attractive is different to what others may.

・So when he saw you, he thought you were one of the most beautiful people in the universe.

・You didn't believe him at first, when he gave you compliments here and there. After all, he was evil in your eyes.

・You thought he was making fun of you, trying to manipulate you. It's just what you automatically thought - as you it's what you were told.

・Time had changed him, experiences and circumstances turned him from self-centred to compassionate.

・And so you were shocked when you overheard him defend you one afternoon

・You didn't believe in soulmates, it didn't make sense to have one perfect person

・But you felt it. That pull towards him, like a tether, or a piece of string.

・No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, you couldn't stop the gut feeling of needing to be around him

・Your relationship slowly started to turn when he asked about your interests

・And when you found something in common, you spent so much time together.

・One night, after spending all day together, he said something that solidified your relationship as a romantic one

"Y/n, I don't think I could live this life without you. But if this is all I get, this time we have spent together -then I am glad to have it." His voice wavered, and he whispered, "I would die a happy man."

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

What We Thought Was Hate Was Actually Just Deep-Seeded Love

Beauty and the Beast

Soulmates

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Enemies to Lovers

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

The Crown of Jaehaerys by Ramin Djawadi

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, I bloody mean it. 

・Loves when you sit on his face. Just having your whole weight smothering him, surrounding him... the thought turns him on, on the spot

・A lot of the time it's Loki initiating intimacy. There's an insatiable need that he has for you.

・When you become comfortable in the relationship, Loki would open up about his fantasies.

・His biggest ones are actually very different. He still has a deep desire to be in charge; to sit on a throne and be worshipped

・And then his other is to be the worshipper, to be on his knees and told what to do

・Loves having his hair pulled. The feeling of fingers grabbing at his scalp, forcing him to look into your eyes.

・He needs to hear your moans, especially when it's his name

・Loki is ... quite a few years older than you. Which means he has a lot of experience. During those years, Loki was constantly trying to find the right person, but he soon found out that they didn't exist. Until he met you. Now everyone else is forgettable

・Intimate moments always have an element of playfulness. Loki's smirk is never too far away

・Loki also likes eating ass and having his ass ... ate

[ahundredtimesover]

Belong (01) | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: exes-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers; actress!OC x basketball coach!Yoongi; summer romance; “long” distance relationship; parallel timelines; angst, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, family drama, sport injury; dreams & moving away; implied depression; basketball and acting talk; 2014 and 2022 Yoongi; shy and nonchalant cocky whipped Yoongi; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.2k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series summary: Being an actor has always been your dream. Pursuing it meant many things - leaving the town where you grew up, distancing yourself from your family that had fallen apart, and saying goodbye to the man who made you feel what home was like. When you decide to finally return after being away for so long, you meet Min Yoongi again, and you’re reminded of the summer romance from 8 years ago with the college basketball superstar whose broken dream pushed you away. As you find yourself spending time with him, you’re left to wonder if love changes, if it gives second chances, or if it’s just another illusion that will hurt the both of you the second time around.

Listen to: Boston by Augustana; Shelter by Luca Fogale || Playlist 🎶

A/N: Posting this today to celebrate People pt.2 and D-Day! Here’s a little piece I’ve had for a while. It felt fitting to write something about dreams and finding your purpose through Yoongi and at a time when I’m going through something similar. There’s nothing like his wisdom and his warmth so I hope this could mean something to you somehow. 💕 Please enjoy! And 🫡 to NBA Ambassador Suga! Now that’s his 🏀 dream in another form.

Present Day

There’s always something magical whenever you watch yourself on screen. 

It’s not due to some narcissistic reason or an insatiable desire for the spotlight; it’s not even because you think you’re really talented. Sure, you like the attention and just like anyone who’s spent years of their lives perfecting their craft, you want to be pretty great at it, but all those thoughts become suspended whenever it’s your scene. 

During these instances, it’s only about your character and her emotions, and that’s what you think is remarkable about it - watching yourself is just like being there, in that moment, on that set, feeling it all. 

Most actors would say they love acting because it gives them a variety of roles and personalities to play. You like that bit, too, but it’s the character’s emotions that you commit yourself to the most; it’s being able to immerse yourself in the feelings of joy and anger, of contempt and fear, of envy and admiration, of guilt and love. You like the finiteness of it, that with acting comes the feeling, and you know at some point, it’s going to end. 

Once the scene is over, so is the emotion; you’re able to let go of it right away with one breath. You’re good at that, you think - holding onto something for as long as it’s yours, and then letting it go when it no longer is. 

The collective gasp of the people around you breaks your bubble only a little; you release a breath yourself as the last scene unfolds. And with the final shot and the succeeding transition to the end credits, you let go of the sadness.

“I can’t believe that only took one shot,” your best friend, Taehyung, says in awe. “I would’ve been crying already knowing how it ends.”

“Jin and I challenged each other,” you proudly say. “We said we’d do our absolute best for that first try and the director thought it was that good. Seriously, not crying until that last second was so hard; I didn’t think I could do it.”

The Kim Seokjin, your co-actor and good friend, looks at you from the other side of the couch with that soft and proud look that you only ever get from him once a project is over. You return the sentiment, knowing that you wouldn’t have survived your first lead role in a drama series if he wasn’t acting alongside you. 

He’d been your senior at university where you both took your major in acting. He was already modeling then and snagged a major role in a movie right after graduation; he became a household name after that. 

You watched from the sidelines as he achieved his dreams while you took the occasional 30-second roles given to the students, but he didn’t forget you. He called regularly to know how you were doing, gave tips when you asked, and informed you of upcoming auditions. 

It was the type of friendship that challenged you, given that you both wanted to one day star in a series or movie together, a culmination of all the long hours of rehearsals and line-reading and classes that you both did. He had already made a name for himself; you wanted to be good enough to have yours be opposite his. 

It would take a few years, but after a supporting role in a romcom movie that saw people wanting more of you, you and Jin finally got cast in a series about a mortal woman falling in love with a celestial being, which, at the beginning, reflected your respective statuses in the industry. You expected the show to do well - everything that Kim Seokjin touches turns to gold, as the saying goes - but you didn’t expect for the public to love you both as a pair as much as they do, given that they want you to star in another show right away. 

“I cried as I turned around,” Jin says of the scene where he had to go back to his world and leave you behind. “That was heavy and even I’m impressed we did it in one shot.”

“Well, the sadness and grief would have dwindled by the third or fourth time,” you chuckle. “I’m not good enough yet to maintain all the emotions after so many takes.”

“Not that you aren’t good enough,” Jin counters. “You just haven’t been in the industry that long yet. That kind of experience makes a difference. I’d say I wouldn’t have been able to sustain the same emotion for long, too. It was a difficult one. I mean, what goodbye scene isn’t?”

It’s a rhetorical question, of course, but much of why it was difficult for you to keep the emotions in was because it was your first goodbye scene. You have a feeling that the succeeding ones wouldn’t be any easier, though. You’d like to think you’re okay with goodbyes and that says a lot, but then again, you don’t know anyone who’s actually good at it.

Or maybe you do. But you’d rather not think about it.

It’s silent for a few more seconds. You suppose that the rest of your co-actors who are here with you are still processing the end of a series that’s been their source of comfort for the past few months, too. It had been your weekly routine to watch the episode together in Jin’s house, not wanting to let go of each other just yet after filming wrapped up a few weeks ago. 

“Well, that was amazing, wasn’t it?” He finally speaks up. “It was a good run and thank god that ___ insisted on these watch parties. Or else I’d be crying by myself in my room after the finale,” he laughs. “This better not be the last time we see each other.”

“Because it isn’t,” you reply. “We still have that cast and crew dinner and a couple more filming stuff for promo. That’s easily another 3 more weeks of being together. Which is really 3 weeks too short.”

“So… does anyone want to go on a trip after that?” Hyun-seung, one of the actors, excitedly suggests. “It’d be a good way to unwind and use up what we’ll earn.”

You laugh along with everyone but you’re the only one who passes up on it. 

“I can’t,” you sigh. “I have a trip to Daegu at the end of the month and I can’t move it.”

Disappointed sighs echo throughout the living room, and you insist that they should continue with the trip without you. Most of them don’t want to, but you eye Jin so that he would make the call to push through with it even if you won’t be around, so he does. It’s rare to find such good company with other actors, and you truly want them to maintain the friendships they built here way beyond the series. 

Your friends make general plans as you listen in, wishing you could be there instead of home, which is where you’ll be for the next 2 months as you promised your family. Or more like, as they guiltripped you into doing. 

You haven’t been home in years and for good reason. After your parents separated and you were the lone child who didn’t harbor anger towards your mother who wanted to pursue her dreams elsewhere, you promised yourself you’d leave that place, too. 

Visits during summer had been fine. But after the most painful goodbye you ever made, you’d stopped going back altogether, reasoning that your up and coming career required all your time. You doubt that your family knew the truth, and despite their remarks of you following in the footsteps of your mother, those weren’t enough for you to open up about something so heartbreaking, knowing it hit too close to home. Their bitterness wasn’t a reason for you to keep going back either. 

“Daegu, really?” Jin asks after everyone else has left, save for Taehyung and Jimin, your personal assistant whose glassy eyes say he’s not yet over the season finale. “You haven’t been home in 6 years.”

“Four, actually,” you correct him. “I had a filming there sometime ago.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t actually go home,” he clarifies. “You went to the shoot then back to your hotel. I remember that; I kept asking Tae how you were doing.”

“I was fine,” you shrug. “How was I supposed to be? I was good, just couldn’t wait to get back here. I had a boyfriend, remember?”

“Andrew was a fling, not a boyfriend,” Jin rolls his eyes, and you confirm that the model is his least favorite of your exes. “And if I remember correctly, you broke it off days later.”

“Well, it stops being good when it stops being fun,” Taehyung says, mocking your usual statement whenever your friends ask why you broke things off with your partners. “She shut down when she came back. I guess going home does that to her.”

“You know how places just naturally comfort you? Daegu isn’t that place,” you try to explain. “I had to get it off my system for the one week I was there and Andrew acted out. I just didn’t want the drama.”

Everyone nods, knowing it’s how you usually are. You always viewed relationships as a complement to your job. Being an actor is tough work with its own complications and you definitely don’t want it from your partner. It was always easy for you to fall into that honeymoon hole with someone, but you always walked away from it just as quick once the rainbows and butterflies had subsided. Whether it’s jealousy over your leading men or not having enough time, or just wanting to be by yourself to regroup, your exes always found a reason to argue. And you were always good at walking away when you needed to.

It was like that with every person. Except one. Your friends don’t know if he’s the reason why, or if he’s the exception.

“So what made you decide to go home? And for how long?” Jin queries, feeling a little worried because of what he knows is out there for you. He’s always been a little protective like that.

“About 2 months?” You respond, to the surprise of the older man. “My dad wants me to celebrate his wedding anniversary with them. And spend time with my sisters’ kids and my grandparents and shit.”

“And spend time with my parents,” Taehyung adds, knowing it’s probably the only thing you’re excited about, given how much they adore you and vice versa. “They can’t wait to see you.”

“Same here,” you finally smile. “We’re definitely seeing them first.”

“Anyone else you’re going to see there?” Jin asks some more.

“You can say his name, you know?” You nudge your friend’s knee. “I know he’s who you mean.”

“Well then. Are you going to see Yoongi?”

“I don’t plan on seeing him but I probably will. It’s a big city but it’s a small town. Plus, I’m with Daegu’s Prince right here,” you say, pointing to your best friend who’s made a name for himself as a ballad singer. “Tae will be dragging me around so I won’t be surprised if I encounter Yoongi somehow, somewhere.”

“And what happens when you see him?” Jimin now asks, wanting to know if he’d need to drive to you in case you decide to come home early. 

“Then I see him. We’re… fine,” you state, earning you an eye roll from each man, so you clarify. “I mean, I’m perfectly fine living my dream in Seoul. And he’s a college basketball coach in Daegu, which is the closest to his dream he could get, and I heard his team’s doing really well. It’s been 6 years. He let me go. And I’ve moved on. Who knows how it’s gonna be like? But I’m civil with each one of my exes and it won’t be any different with him.”

“He’s different, though,” Jimin points out. “You actually loved him; you can’t say the same for all your exes. And you can’t argue that,” he adds, seeing your shaking head and disagreeing face. “Drunk and hungover you told me all that more than once and I trust that version of you over the sober one when it comes to your love life.”

“Okay, Mr. Know-It-All,” you frown at him. “I wasn’t going to deny that but it was the naive, impulsive, hopeless romantic version of me who loved him. That’s not me anymore. I’ve grown up. I know what I want from my partner, and Yoongi is just the small town boy who’ll always think that his broken dreams will keep him from loving me the way I deserve. And maybe he’s right.”

It’s quiet for a while, as your friends take in your words since you rarely ever talk about the man unless you’re in an inebriated state or recovering from it. But it’s the first time that the possibility of seeing him looms over you, knowing that within those 2 months, you’re bound to run into him somehow. 

Now it’s too quiet, and you realize that none of you know what to say since you’re all sober. Truth be told, you don’t remember anything that Jimin’s ever told you during those times that you opened up, and Jin never really said much, knowing how hard that breakup hit you. And Taehyung, well… the man was there before, during, and after it all, yet he never really said much, always choosing to let the silence engulf both of you.

“Look, I’m touched you all seem to be worried,” you finally speak up. “But I’m going to be fine. I found a house I’m renting that’s nice and private. I’m actually excited to eat at my favorite restaurants and visit places I’ve missed. I can’t do anything about my family but at least Tae will be with me the whole time and save me from their madness if he needs to. And Yoongi, well… he’s a closed chapter in my book. There’s no reason to revisit that. Hi, goodbye - that’ll be it, just like before.”

You sigh to yourself, hoping that your friends would take your word for it, though you don’t really blame them if they don’t. They’ve seen you barely bat an eye after calling it quits with your exes but they’ve heard of how broken you were because of that breakup; seeing Yoongi again might just bring up old memories that you might not be ready for. And they won’t all be there to lift you up like they’d want to. 

“Okay then, if you say so,” Jin finally smiles. “But if something comes up… you know I can always drive there and bring you back here.”

“And add to the already existing rumors about us being a thing?” You laugh, referring to all the social media fodder about your chemistry that’s too good, it might be real. 

“So? Then we let it,” he shrugs.

“Does the Kim Seokjin not care about dating rumors?” You gasp. “You always complained about it. Don’t tell me you like me.”

Jin sits next to you and cups your face in his hands. “I… love you. The way a dear friend who dreamed with you and who gets to live that out with you does. We all love you. We’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”

“I do,” you say, humming once he plants a soft kiss on your forehead, just like all the times he’d done before - when you graduated university, when you didn’t get callbacks, and when you landed your first major role. “Thank you.”

You decide to head out after a long evening. Jimin lists your activities for the next day before he’s dropped off at his apartment. Taehyung lets you listen to his new single for his upcoming album, and you get emotional over his soulful sound and the fact that he gets to live out his dream with you, too.

He walks you to your front door and hugs you tightly, just like all the times he’d done before - when you cried about your family, when Yoongi broke up with you, and when you found out he was dating someone new. 

“I love you, okay?” Your best friend whispers. 

He says it in that soft, comforting voice of his. The one that always told you that things were gonna be fine, as if love solves all things, and at one point, you believed it did. 

Your hometown of Daegu looks very different from the last time you were really here. It changes a lot. And it changes pretty quickly. 

But some things about it stay the same - family-run restaurants, streets lined with little shops passed down from generations, the parks and the temples, the playground in your old neighborhood with the basketball court that you know all too well.

They make the place home, Mrs. Kim says. That doesn’t change no matter how far or how long you’ve been away. 

You want to disagree. This place was never home. It felt like bits of it during the times you used to watch ballet performances at the Opera House with your mom or when your dad used to grill makchang on Friday nights. 

But when she decided to leave and then he remarried, you had just memories of home left. Your sisters’ resentment over your happiness for your mother as she achieved her dreams took all that was remaining, and coming here reminds you more than what you lost; it reminds you of what you can never have - that space to dream, the place of safety, the love that would endure time and distance. 

You enjoy the best short ribs dish over Mr. Kim’s recordings of his saxophone performances. Mrs. Kim dotes on you like her own daughter, and Taehyung announces all the things you’ll be doing now that you’re both back home, taking your respective breaks that you deserve, and spending the money that you worked hard for. 

You eventually leave for some rest. The house you’re staying at is far from the buzz of the city. It’s private and secure, a little too spacious for one, and boasts of the views of the mountains. Jimin had found it, knowing you’d need the peace and quiet amidst all that would be taking place during your short time here. 

Taehyung will be staying over at his parents’ place, but they insist that it’s open for you to visit anytime you want. You think you need the time for yourself, though. Your job often requires you to be around people, and you’re thankful for the choice you have now to be away from them. For some time, at least.

[From: Manager Jung] Are you settled? I’ve got a script for you to go through. Sending it now 

Your agent-slash-manager’s message disrupts your moment of tranquility as you sit out at the garden, watching the sun set. You’d arrived from Seoul in time for lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon at Taehyung’s parents’ house before heading to yours. 

[To: Manager Jung] Yeah, all good. But give me a week until I read the script. Don’t want to think much about work yet 

[From: Manager Jung] Fine. Just don’t take too long 

You sigh, knowing that though you promised Jin and Jimin that you won’t be thinking about work while you’re here - you need a break from it all, they told you - your manager won’t really let you. And much as you want to complain about him pushing you real hard, you’re thankful that Jung Hoseok always does. 

He was the one who saw your talent and insisted you’ve got a bright future after one casting call that you were almost late for. He was strategic in which roles to pitch you for as a rookie actor, and which ones would get you ahead of the game, no matter how challenging it was. During the times you wondered if you were meant for this industry, he always assured you that you were. There was always going to be a bigger break after the last, he believed, and he promised you he’d go searching for that role until you got the biggest break of your career. 

And every time you think he’ll cross the line of pressuring you too much, he says something sweet, brotherly, friendly. 

[From: Manager Jung] But take care of yourself there, ok? Don’t let them talk down on you. Don’t let them crush your dreams 

You’d cry if his words came with a hug.

[From: Manager Jung] And guard your heart. Don’t let him hurt you again 

You pretend he means your father; he let your sisters’ resentment of you go on after all, and his inaction made you feel unloved in your own home. 

You don’t want to think that Hoseok means someone else because it would mean that for all the times you questioned if everything you gave up to chase your dream was worth it, then he knew it was because of the man who broke your heart 6 years ago. You don’t want to think that all these years, Hoseok knew that your buzz-worthy dating life, whose aftermath he always had to manage, was just your futile attempt at getting over the first and only man you ever loved. 

Being in any sports facility unsettles you. You always claim that the buzz of sporting events just isn’t your cup of tea - you prefer the noise of a film or television set, or of a theater right before the movie starts. It wasn’t always like that, of course. You used to enjoy the screams and heckles of sports fans; you used to be one of them. 

But you found out the hard way that losing someone means you lose the parts of you that you’d adopted because of them, that you fall out of love with the things you used to love because of them.

Basketball is one of those things. It’s why Taehyung used to not invite you whenever there were Thunders games at Jamsil despite the free tickets always available for you; he knew you’d say no and he hates rejection. 

But Mr. Song is a man you can’t say no to. Not only is he the city’s mayor, he’s also a good friend of your father’s, which is how the chief official got wind of your return. 

Your trip isn’t meant to be publicized. Actors take breaks and visit their hometowns regularly without attracting the media, and oftentimes, that’s thanks to the local government, who employs their political will and own security to ensure that celebrities aren’t disturbed while they’re on vacation or just visiting family. It’s good for them, of course, but it also sometimes comes with small favors, like a private dinner with some of their close friends and some photos or autographs. You don’t really mind, especially since the same is extended to Taehyung, hence why the lunch earlier at the mayor’s residence wasn’t all that bad. It was only slightly awkward with your father because you chose to meet up with Taehyung’s family first before yours, but your dad didn’t dwell on it. 

Other than privacy, one other thing you get are free courtside Korean Basketball League tickets. The Pegasus just recently moved to Daegu from Incheon and there’d been a lot of promotion to get the city to give their full support to their new hometown team. Mr. Song thinks that photos of you and Taehyung attending the game will be the publicity that the team needs, and while your best friend genuinely agrees to the arrangement, you only do so half-heartedly. You’ll at least see your friends who are playing for the other team, but even the thought of Jungkook and Namjoon being back home and the party they’ll throw after is making you even more unsettled. 

“Hmm, number 16 was pretty cute,” you whisper to Taehyung as you head out of the locker room after some photos with the home team. “I wonder if he’ll be at the party tonight.”

“No, he won’t,” your best friend responds. 

“Why not? Because he’s from the other team? I’m sure that Jungkook won’t mind, right? I mean, yeah it’s his house but—”

“Tonight is for college friends only.”

“We didn’t even go to their university,” you point out, given that you and Taehyung studied in Seoul and had met there, instantly clicking after finding out you both hailed from the same city. “Why are we going?”

“We are honorary members,” he replies. “I went to high school with them and you…” he trails, trying to figure out how to phrase how you became an honorary member of their group of friends without bringing him up. 

“Are the ex of one of their friends,” you finish for him. “You can say it, you know?”

“I don’t know, can I?” He arches a brow.

“Yes. I don’t deny the fact that Yoongi and I dated.”

“You just deny how much it affected you.”

“You mistake my amazing ability of moving on for denial,” you groan. “But oh shit. Wait. Does this mean that he’ll be there at the party?”

Taehyung huffs as he settles in his seat and looks at your worried eyes. “For someone who doesn’t seem to be in denial, you sure look a bit anxious that he might be there tonight. Didn’t you say you can be civil with your exes?”

“Yeah, I can,” you reply defensively. “I don’t know about him. But then again, he moved on first, so I doubt seeing me would affect him much.”

Your best friend lets out a breath, not wanting to argue. He’s learned long ago that when it comes to Yoongi, you’re dead set on many things - like the narrative that he moved on first, that he was so much happier without you, that dreams were always more important for him, whether it was yours or his. Taehyung tried to help you process that whole experience, especially the aftermath, as you went on dating one man after another after you found out about Yoongi dating some local musician. 

But you always had a default answer, that you’ve always been that way - quick to fall in love and quick to fall out of it, and Yoongi was no exception. You met, fell in love, and while you technically didn’t fall out of love, the breakup left you no choice but to do just that; he was the one who insisted that you leave, after all, and you’d been the one too heartbroken that he didn’t love you enough to make you stay.

“Well then let’s just see what happens,” Taehyung shrugs. “We’ve got a game to watch, a party to go to, and friends to catch up with.”

“And a nice, peaceful home to retire to after tonight. I’ll need all the good energy before I see the rest of my family tomorrow,” you sigh.

Right, there’s that, Taehyung frowns. Your family’s too complicated that you insist you don’t want him to get sucked into the drama, hence why you don’t want him to go with you. But between that and the possibility of seeing your ex, he could only hope that during this trip, you won’t get your heart broken too early, too quickly, or too hard.

“How is it that the Pegasus have been playing here for months but it’s the first time we’re watching their game live?” Geumjae asks incredulously as he sips his beer. 

“Because it’s the first home game of the season against the Thunders when I’m home and when Jungkook and Namjoon don’t have girlfriends to give their tickets to,” Yoongi explains to his older brother. “And well, I never asked before.”

“Well, good on us that you’re here and your friends currently don’t have girlfriends,” Geumjae laughs. “Also, you could totally ask. They’re your friends; I don’t think it would be that hard for them to get extra seats for us.”

“I’m not their only friend here. I’m sure a bunch of the guys from college would ask,” Yoongi shrugs. 

“You’re not just their friend, Yoon,” his brother groans. “You played with them, you captained them, and led them to college championships.”

“Yeah, yet I’m the one hustling it out as a college coach while they’re playing pro,” the younger man huffs. 

He doesn’t mean to be bitter. He loves those guys, hustled it out with them until the late evenings just to get the proper training and workout in almost a decade ago. He couldn't be any prouder when Jungkook and Namjoon got drafted to professional teams and then reunited as teammates with the Seoul Samsung Thunders just 2 years ago. Yoongi had been the encouraging senior who messaged them right away, happy for his peers for being together again just like old times. He won’t lie and say it didn’t sting a bit to be left out from the life they all dreamed of having, with him being the only one who didn’t get to achieve it alongside them. 

“Well, if it matters at all, you’re doing amazing,” Geumjae tries to cheer his brother up. “I read online that many are calling your team to win it all this year. Imagine being the only person in your school’s history to be a champion player and coach? Not just anyone can say that.”

Yoongi hums, trying to let the thought comfort him. It doesn’t do much; coaching a college basketball team is leagues away from playing professionally. The energy is different, so is the hustle. Shooting hoops with the kids during training isn’t the same. The lights and the cheers as he sits on the bench calling plays isn’t the same either. He can at least say that with coaching, he’s able to shape and mentor the young ones, direct them to better paths, encourage them to reach their dreams, and to not settle for a life they’re not happy with or proud of. He’s got a bunch of players who got drafted last year and dedicated their first professional game to him, and that’s an indescribable feeling he’ll always hold onto. It reminds him that even if it wasn’t him, it was at least someone he cared about. 

He watches as the players do their warmups on court before the start of the game. This isn’t the first time he’s watched live, but it’s the first time with Jungkook and Namjoon as teammates, so seeing them goof around and do the handshake that they used to do warms his heart a little. Maybe it’s this bit of joy that he needs to remind him that it’s okay, that even if life turned out differently for him, at least basketball is still part of his life. There’s more he wants, of course, but this is way better than nothing. He reminds himself at one point, he didn’t think he could ever set foot on a basketball court again.

The game finally starts and though he’s usually quiet whenever he watches games, he can’t help the small small cheer he makes whenever Jungkook or Namjoon scores or makes crucial plays. He still knows their moves, can still read Jungkook’s pump-fake, and can still tell by Namjoon’s stance if he’s gonna make that rare three. Though he was a shooting guard during his glory days, Yoongi still prides himself in his playmaking skills and knowing his teammates well, something that scouts used to rave about. 

Yoongi sips his beer, no doubt enjoying the exciting match. He obviously wants the Thunders to win, but the Pegasus aren’t backing down, not letting themselves trail by more than 8 points. He’s in a bit of a trance, as he lets himself drown in the cheers of the crowd, imagining that it’s him leaving it all out on the court. 

But as he looks up on the big screen during timeout, he feels like the air is being sucked out of him. His ears don’t betray them either, as the announcer calls on your name and Taehyung’s - “celebrity sightings,” he says, while you and your best friend wave to the camera and smile like the superstars that you both are. The cheers get louder and Geumjae joins them until he realizes.

“Shit, that’s your ex-girlfriend,” he whisper-shouts. He laughs at the scene of his brother practically choking on his drink. “Wow, she still has that effect on you, huh?”

“No, she doesn’t,” Yoongi says nonchalantly, desperately forcing his heart to slow its beating. 

“Did you know she’s gonna be here?”

“I don’t keep tabs on her whereabouts, Geumjae,” he replies, suddenly sounding hard, defensive.

“Do you think she’s gonna be at the party?”

Fuck, the party, Yoongi slightly panics. Jungkook talked about the sort of reunion he’s throwing at his house after the game. Their old teammates will be there, as well as some other friends from college who are still in the city. You and Taehyung were honorary members of that group and Yoongi knows that you’re both invited, too.

“I guess,” he merely shrugs, looking like it doesn’t bother him much. 

It shouldn’t. It’s been 6 years, and while he’d been the one to break it off, you’re the one who’s dated a lot since then, something he can’t fault you for. You’d obviously catch a lot of attention - you did catch his - not just for your charm and unbelievable beauty but for your talent as well. He’s not surprised that you’re rumored to be dating Kim Seokjin, said to be this decade’s most desired leading man and who also happens to be your good friend, the one who’d helped you out a lot during your years in university. Yoongi used to be a little jealous then, something he never told you, and well, he guesses it’s meant to be with you and Seokjin now, a man he could probably never live up to. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Geumjae breaks through his thoughts.

“Yeah. Why won’t I be?” Yoongi huffs, sinking back to his seat to watch the game that suddenly isn’t so interesting anymore. 

His question is left unanswered and his brother resumes his cheers, no doubt invested in this match that’s now tied. But Yoongi drifts in and out, his eyes following the players up and down the court then mindlessly landing on you. You’re seated in a relaxed manner, the opposite to how you used to watch his games. He sees you silently cheer for the Thunders, too, and you giggle at Taehyung when you scream louder than you intended, your hand covering your mouth as you lean on your friend and he laughs along. 

He could hear the sound of your laughter from across the gymnasium, as if the way the dulcet tone of your voice used to send shivers down his spine whenever you giggled in his ears was just yesterday. He shakes off the goosebumps he feels and tries to sit comfortably on the chair.

“Are you nervous?” Geumjae asks. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Since when was I ever loud during a basketball game?” He shoots his brother an incredulous look. 

“You may not make a sound but your body does,” the older man points out. “I could feel you buzzing earlier and cheering in that Yoongi way of yours but now,” he eyes him up and down, “your legs are just bouncing. And you're biting your nails again.”

Yoongi catches himself. He forces his leg to be still and tucks his hand under it. It’s a tell he has, and he has no doubt that his brother has caught on. Still, he lies. “The game’s close. I want the Thunders to win.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Yes, now can we just focus on the game?” Yoongi chides, not wanting to confirm whatever his brother’s suspicions are. 

“Fine, but for the record, I know exactly why you’re nervous.”

“I don’t really care.”

Geumjae sighs as he watches his brother’s gaze go to you once more, unknowingly, perhaps, as Yoongi seems to shake himself off after every time he realizes that his eyes were locked on your direction. But he can’t blame the younger man. You entered his life and he fell, extremely hard, and letting you go was the most difficult thing he ever had to do. Yoongi doesn’t need to tell him though, but there’s enough of his younger brother’s broken pieces lying around for Geumjae to know that it was also something he regretted doing, and he wishes his brother was at least brave enough to admit all that.

The Thunders win by 5 points. It was nail-biting until the very end. It was Namjoon’s crucial offensive rebound and Jungkook’s 3-point shot that sealed the game for them, and Yoongi was present enough to witness those last few plays. He decides to enjoy this moment with his friends, knowing they’d be asking him about it later. If he’ll still go to the party. Somehow, seeing you again made him a little dizzy. It was still on the screen, but now he’s not sure he’ll know what to do when he sees you in person. 

He and his brother let the crowds go before heading out separately. Geumjae’s car is parked elsewhere, and Yoongi decides to head to the washroom and pace his walk to the parking lot. Hands on his pockets and eyes glued to the floor, he hears a gasp, and he releases one himself when he sees you, hiding behind one of the vending machines as a group of fans at the end of the hallways starts walking towards your direction, wondering aloud where you went. 

He sees the panicked look in your eyes and decides to stop the crowd before they come any closer. 

“She headed that way,” he announces, pointing to the right. “There’s an exit there. She probably left already.”

You hear the disappointed sighs, and much as you don’t want to let your fans down - you’re not one to deny them autographs - there have been too many of them this afternoon and you weren’t mentally prepared to accommodate each one of them. The footsteps disappear not long after and you let out a sigh of relief. That was close, but you didn’t expect Yoongi, of all people, to be the one to stir them away.

You turn to him, about to say your thanks, but somehow the words get stuck in your throat. You recall being a giddy mess the very first time you saw him, with nibbled lips and palpitating heart as you watched him shoot baskets and dribble the ball like no one’s business, and you’d been a goner since then. But he was a lot thinner during that time. His hair was cut short and his eyes had this sharp, confident gaze that usually intimidated people. You eventually saw how they softened only for you, though, but you’ll always remember that summer and how he had you wanting him at first glance. 

This man before you isn’t all that different. He still has the same sharp eyes, with his look penetrating right through your soul like he knows you and well, he does, which is also why he was quick to misdirect the crowd after he perhaps saw the look of worry on your face. His tiny nose is the same, so is his pale skin. But his hair is now long, pushed back in the middle as it softly reaches close to his shoulders. He’s a lot leaner; you can easily tell from what’s hiding behind his thin white shirt underneath his blue jacket. You recall him dressing mostly in monotone colors, so seeing him in something a little more striking is new. He’s gorgeous just like before, and you don’t really know why you expected that he wouldn’t render you speechless this time around.

“___,” he calls out. “Were they bothering you?”

“No, uh…” you stutter, hating yourself for suddenly being nervous. “There were just too many of them and they were getting quite close, I kind of panicked. Stupid, really. I should be used to it by now. More of them came and I just…”

“If they were invading your personal space then that’s not right,” he says, his tone so serious you mistake it for worry. “Did they touch you or anything?”

“Oh no! Nothing like that. I just got a bit overwhelmed.”

“Where’s Taehyung?” He asks, as you watch him walk to the vending machine where you’re hiding, tap his card, and then get the bottled water that falls out. He opens it and hands it to you as if he’d done this so many times before, and well, he actually has.

“He met up with a couple of friends,” you explain. “The crowd got to me right after and I kinda lost him, but I told him I’ll meet him outside, somewhere near where the players come out.”

“Hmm, okay,” Yoongi hums, looking away. 

He should’ve expected you to look way more beautiful up close but he tends to overestimate his ability to be entranced by you. He’s surprised he even got any word out, but the worry crept in the moment he saw you look a little winded and he just wanted to make sure you were alright. You’re a celebrity, after all, and the city’s “Princess,” as they claim. 

You look a little nervous though, and a part of him just wants to scold Taehyung for leaving you behind, seeing as neither of you looked like you had security with you earlier. But that shouldn’t be his responsibility anymore, he reminds himself. 

“Thanks for the water, by the way,” you speak up. “How much was it?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks again,” you smile shyly. “So, uhm, do you know where the other exit is? I’m kind of lost.”

“Oh, uh… the one close to where the players go out is there,” he cocks his head to the left, towards a hallway behind swinging doors. “I can uh, I can show you where.”

“Ah, that would be great. Did you park close there, too?”

No.

“Yeah,” he lies. “Let’s go before more people see you.”

He opens the door and walks after you. It doesn’t help that the hallway suddenly feels much smaller and closed off because now, Yoongi has to listen to your footsteps and nothing else, since neither one of you chooses to talk. 

What does he say to the woman he broke up with 6 years ago? Maybe he can say something about your recently concluded series. He thought it was really good. Is it weird to ask what your next project is? Perhaps. You probably can’t even tell him. How was it like being the leading lady this time? Fuck, he’s not a talk show host or anything like that. 

He sees the end of the hallway before his mind can come up with another stupid question, and he rushes to the door before you do, catching you by surprise. 

“Just wanted to make sure there’s no one to bother you,” he explains, as you exit the building with questioning eyes. 

“Oh, thanks,” you smile shyly again. 

He’s not used to it. He remembers the way your eyes used to gaze at him constantly, how your smile and laughter were all cheeky and flirty, how the tone of your voice was always so confident, so charming. He thinks that maybe like him, you’re just as surprised and unsure about seeing each other after so long. He doesn’t know what to make of things beyond that.

“Do you have someone to pick you up?” he asks, needing to prepare himself if, as a last resort, he’d need to drive you somewhere.

“Yeah, Tae and I were supposed to ride together but,” you pause, checking your phone for your best friend’s text message, “he rode off with his friends and said he’d meet me at Jungkook’s instead so I’m just waiting for the guys. There’s the—”

Party, Yoongi says in his head.

“___!” Jungkook’s loud voice cuts you off. He jogs up to you and puts an arm around your shoulders, unaware of the man in front of you who’s being blocked by a wall. “You ready to go? Tae said he went ahead.”

Yoongi makes his presence known with a low grunt, his eyes pacing from his friend to you. You both look a lot closer than he remembers, and Yoongi’s mind goes to that first time you all met, how Jungkook had announced during their team celebration that the “girl with the yellow scarf on her hair is so pretty” and that he’d wanted to ask you out. Of course, things turned out differently - you weren’t interested in the younger man. But that was years ago. Jungkook has had an impressive professional career and he lives in Seoul. Maybe things have changed for you.

You follow Yoongi’s eyes. Despite many people claiming that he’s difficult to read because of the default unconcerned, almost detached look he has for every situation, you think he’s actually pretty transparent. 

Or maybe that’s just you. You’ve spent enough time with him to know his sound of annoyance and the meaning of his body language. You’ve memorized that pretty face of his at one point that you can tell the slightest parting of his lips and the tiniest drop of his eyes, which could mean that he’s confused, sad, or disappointed. Maybe all.

“Oh, we’re not…” you exclaim, surprising yourself, to the amusement of Namjoon, who suddenly appears next to you. “I mean, Jungkook and I aren’t… a thing.”

You promptly remove the man’s arm from your shoulder and try to decipher Yoongi’s look now. Is it relief? Does he believe you? Does he think it’s silly that you had to clarify that, which you’re wondering why you did?

“Okay,” Yoongi says. 

Perhaps you’re wrong. You can’t tell right now what he’s feeling.

“We just… got to hanging out when I got drafted by the Thunders,” Jungkook now clarifies, which he quickly realizes is maybe making this awkward situation a lot worse. 

You’re Yoongi’s ex-girlfriend after all, and Jungkook had been the one to reach out to you when he moved to Seoul, but not once did he try to pursue you all these years. He respects his captain too much and cares for what you both had, which is why he maintained his friendship with you even after the breakup.  

“That’s nice to know,” Yoongi replies, his tone nonchalant like always.

He’s glad he can keep his cool that well, even if his heart was just about to explode at the thought of you possibly dating his friend. He doesn’t know why he cares, though, as he never really thought much about the so-called code that stated that exes were off-limits to friends. 

He’s just about to turn around when Namjoon calls out. “Min, you’re still going to the party, right?”

Yoongi looks at you, who promptly looks away. Up until 10 minutes ago, he was about 80% sure he would. He didn’t think that being in close proximity to you would make him remember all sorts of things, and that itself is enough for him to run for the hills and avoid you. He won’t claim he did his best to forget about you - he at least tried, and that still counts - but he didn’t expect he’d ever get a chance to be near you, much less talk to you and be in the same place as you. Again. 

But he looks at his friends’ eyes, both pairs unsure yet practically begging him to still go. He remembers these looks, and he swears it’s because he doesn’t want to let both of them down that he battles with the inner part of himself and decides to still go. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with somehow finding out for how long you’re staying, and why you’re here in the first place. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you guys there,” he replies, turning around now and heading towards his car on the opposite side of the parking lot. 

You watch Yoongi walk away, unsure of why your heart is beating as fast as it is. It had been like that since you saw him after hiding from the fans, and even more so when you walked silently in the hallway to head outside. 

You knew you were gonna see him, maybe even at the party, but not in the way you did. And all your confidence at not being bothered or affected with seeing him again melts away. 

You weren’t prepared for how good he’d look, for how concerned he’d be over your safety, and for that hint of disappointment on his face at the thought of you being with Jungkook. Neither were you prepared for that incredibly tiny part of you that wants to know how he’s doing and if he’d managed to piece together the broken parts of himself and his dream that he so adamantly chose over you.

You survive the car ride by glaring at Namjoon every time he starts teasing you about panicking over Yoongi thinking that you were dating Jungkook, while the latter curses as he drives, claiming he survived one of the scariest moments of his life. 

You arrive in Jungkook’s house in half an hour, a nice place he bought for himself because he said that Daegu will always be home for him. The sliding doors to the patio give it a spacious feel, and you see that a couple of his friends had already prepped the space, complete with beer kegs and beer pong tables, the way you remember they always used to party.      

The 3 of you spot Taehyung who greets you, and the 2 men next to you proceed to narrate what happened, to your best friend’s shock and amusement. You also fill all of them in with the first part of the story about Yoongi finding you as you hid away from the crowd.

“How… symbolic,” Namjoon hums. “You meet at a basketball court in Daegu after a game while you were hiding from fans because you’re such a bigtime actress now. I mean, it’s quite ironic. The universe is out to tease you or something.”

You agree, it is. It’s times like this when you wish you didn’t believe in fate and destiny because doing so would just give you false hope that you and Yoongi may be meant for more than just those 2 years together. And you absolutely hate it because you can’t fall into that trap of thinking that you’re meant for a happy ending that includes him. That ship sailed a long time ago - 6 years and about 5 partners later.

But as Yoongi enters the house, his bowed head turning up to search the area before daintily tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, you start to think that maybe that ship decided to turn back around and sail towards you once again. He briefly meets your eyes before someone calls out to him, and you’re left to admire him from afar, cute button nose and impeccable side profile and all. 

Taehyung pulls you by the arm and whispers in your ear. “Okay, so what’s our plan?”

“What do you mean, our plan?” You ask, realizing you’ve lost Yoongi as you glance in the direction of where he was, no longer finding him there. “Plan for what?”

“Yoongi, obviously,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Do we avoid him, be civil, pretend you don’t think about him anymore, or act like the past 8 years didn’t happen and we don’t actually know him?”

“None of the above,” you groan. “What kinds of options are those?”

“Decent ones?”

“Nope. You’ve already had a lot to drink and I don’t trust you when you’re drunk.”

“Except you should. This is when I don’t hold back when it comes to you,” Taehyung answers.

“And you hold back otherwise?” You frown. 

“Just when it’s about him. It was tough for a long time. I know sometimes it still is.”

You don’t have the heart to disagree. This man has been your best friend for a decade and he knows how you are, knows which pains of yours you’re willing to talk about and which ones you’d rather hide away. Your acting skills may be good but you know that Taehyung can see behind all the smiles and the detachment and the effort to look okay, and whatever it is he’s thinking, there’s a good chance he might be right. You’ve just never been brave enough to admit them. 

The look of understanding you both share gets disrupted when cheers erupt in the middle of the living room, seeing that Seungkwan had just beaten Jungkook in beer pong. The pro player demands a rematch and the entire house cheers in agreement. Jungkook takes the next game but Seungkwan won’t back down. 

“Let’s do it in pairs,” he challenges. “I take Joon.”

“Fine,” Jungkook says, his game face on, knowing there’s one other person he knows could win this with him. “I take the Captain.”

Cheers erupt once more as people push Yoongi to the center where the rest of the guys are. He shakes his head, seemingly uninterested in partaking in tonight’s festivities but goes anyway after much coaxing from everyone. He then does his handshake with Jungkook to the younger man’s insistence, and you watch Yoongi’s soft, shy smile appear. 

And just like the very first time you saw that, you feel your heart thrum in excitement. There was always something special about it, and back then it was because he rarely did it, but he did it a lot when he was with you. It’s nice to see it during a moment like this - surrounded by his old friends while having fun with them. You’re glad he shows more of it now, and you wonder how many people fell harder for him because of it. 

You watch from the sideline as the Jungkook-Yoongi pair score 4 straight. Seungkwan complains that Namjoon isn’t making any shots, prompting the older man to claim that he’s way better at dunking than shooting tiny balls like they’re jumpers. They eventually lose after all the theatrics but it’s enough to get the guests going, as you find yourself teasing both men as well. 

You remember their house parties being this rowdy and this loud, given all the energy and testosterone that these athletes had so much of. That obviously hasn’t changed, and despite all of them having grown up, looking all mature and much more respectable, the naughtiness remains, especially once they’ve had too much to drink. 

It’s why you find yourself surrounded by a bunch of the guys, asking for a photo with you to show off to their friends and families. 

“I’m showing this to the guys at the office,” Seungkwan announces as he gets your approval over the selfie picture he took of you both. “They’re not gonna believe I went to college with an actress.”

“Uh, I didn’t go to college with you,” you laugh along with the others. “I studied in Seoul.”

“Then how the fuck do we know you?” He exclaims, no doubt drunk out of his mind at this point. You remember him having a short-term memory every time.

“He’s the Captain’s ex, dumbo!” Soon-young reminds him, another one of the younger guys who hasn’t drank as much but was never good at knowing what not to say. “Remember the summer before his final year? She was with us all the time.”

“Oh right. They were inseparable and looked so in love,” Seungkwan giggles, and at this point, the rest of the people just go with what he’s saying. 

Not you though, neither does Yoongi, and neither does Namjoon, who slaps the back of Seungkwan’s head to loud-whisper that the ex-couple in question is right there.

“Shit, did they hear me?” Seungkwan wonders out loud and looks around before sipping his beer. “I meant it though.”

He laughs drunkenly, so do many others. There’s really only a handful of you who aren’t intoxicated, but right now you wish you were. 

“Wait, they’re both here?” Seungkwan recovers, eyes now glassy. 

He gasps when his gaze turns to you and then Yoongi, and he puts his arm over your shoulder and slightly drags you to the right so he could put his arm over Yoongi, too.

“I found them!” Seungkwan squeals, pushing both of you to face him. “Shit, you still look good together.”

“Alright, dude, that’s enough,” Namjoon finally steps in, pulling the inebriated man away. “Sorry,” he turns to you. “Don’t mind anything he said.”

Too late, you want to say, but you release an awkward laugh instead. 

“They haven’t changed since college, huh,” Yoongi says, surprising you. “They still put us on the spot then leave us to deal with the aftermath,” he continues, watching as the group disperses to go drink and chat again. 

You turn towards him and sigh in relief over the small smile he has on. You swear the tension was so thick earlier that you could cut it with a knife, but Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered. He looks calm like he always does, and just like those first few times, you take your cue from him. You try to release the tension from your body and smile. 

“They should be banned from drinking when there are ex-lovers in the building,” you chuckle. “But I’m pretty sure he’ll be apologizing to you like crazy once he’s sober. Wish I could see that.”

“I can’t wait for that, too,” Yoongi hums. 

A wave of silence envelopes you both. The sounds of your friends seem like white noise now, and with the background music on and the man next to you just sipping his drink, it’s oddly comforting. 

You learned long ago that he has this amazing ability to do that - make people around them feel calm. There’s something so reassuring about him that remarks about your past don’t faze him, and now that’s rubbing off on you, as you feel the awkwardness slowly melt away.

You and Yoongi stand by the couch while the world around you continues. You’d stay in this bubble with him if it wasn’t so familiar, only because the familiarity scares you a little. You don’t want to know if anything else feels the same.

“I’m gonna look for Tae,” you say, breaking the silence. 

You only need to look to your left at the sound of someone hooting to find your best friend downing another cup of some concoction, and by the sound of his laugh, you know this is the one that will do it for him. This is his point of no return. Anything he does after is not meant for many people to see; he has an image to protect, after all.

“Alright, that’s my cue,” you say, walking towards him. 

You cup Taehyung’s face in your hands and tell him that the party’s over and you’ll take him home. He argues, but you remind him that he’s a celebrity and that he can’t have drunk pictures of him circulating online. His inebriated mind sort of gets it, and you take him in your arms and start looking around, trying to see which of the guys are the most stable one to drive.

“How are you going home?”

“Uh…” you turn to face Yoongi. “One of… them? Jungkook, Wooz, Soon-young all offered.”

“And they’ve all had a lot to drink,” he replies.

“Who here hasn’t?” You chuckle, eyes still searching the room. You don’t want to ask your safest option, which is the man in front of you. You’re not quite sure how your heart can handle that. 

“Me,” he says so casually. “I just had one bottle.” 

You know what he means, even more when he goes to Taehyung’s side to help you assist your drunk best friend. Yoongi doesn’t say anything else though; he just stands there while waiting for your reply. This is about safety, you remind yourself, and it has nothing to do with suddenly wanting to be in his presence just a little longer.

“Okay,” you reply, knowing he knows what you mean, too.

“Okay.”

All three of you say goodbye to your friends, all of whom give you smug looks, passing up on the teasing now given Yoongi’s displeased face after someone remarks that “mom and dad are taking care of their kid again.” This isn’t a new scene for them, either. Taehyung just tends to have a lot of genuine fun when he’s with his friends; it’s something you relate with after being in the industry you’re in.

You and Yoongi help Taehyung in the backseat where you sit, with your best friend’s head securely on your lap because he’s now complaining of a migraine. Your designated driver starts the car shortly after he checks on both of you. 

“Neither of you took your cars?” He asks.

“Tae did but passed up on driving tonight,” you say. “I would’ve driven, had I known he won’t be able to control himself. I’m still waiting for my requested rental car.”

Yoongi merely hums and focuses on the road while you… well, while you sort of focus on him. Your position behind the passenger seat allows you a view from the side - from how his fingers drum the steering wheel to how he nibbles his lips. His eyes are focused on the road but you can tell he’s focused on both of you, too, with the way he turns to the back whenever Taehyung makes some garbled sound or just to ask you if you’re okay. 

You watched him do this so many times before with you next to him, holding his hand and kissing his cheek at every stoplight. For someone who loves music, he never put the radio on when he drove you. He said it allowed him to focus on you, and that memory isn’t one that you really want to think of right now, especially since it’s silent in the car. You don’t know which ones you’d rather remember, though - the good ones or the bad. You suppose either would hurt regardless, and this wasn’t something that you prepared for. 

You make it to your best friend’s house as you and Yoongi assist him to the gate to Mrs. Kim’s shock. She scolds a barely-awake Taehyung and apologizes profusely to Yoongi, who says she’s happy to see him in their home once again. As Mr. Kim takes his son up to his room, Yoongi turns to you and asks if you need a ride home.

“I’m sleeping over,” you say in a panic. “Someone’s got to take care of his drunk ass.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says, briefly meeting your eyes before nodding towards his car. “I’ll go ahead. It was nice seeing you again, ___.”

They’re simple words that any old friend would tell another after seeing them in years, but somehow they hit you differently. This entire evening hasn’t been a dream or some made up scenario in your head where you meet the man you loved after so long. 

He’s here. With you. Looking at you in a way you’re very unfamiliar with - with a calmness in his eyes and a hint of care and acceptance, as if he’s glad you’re here but that he’s well aware of the years between you, of the years that passed by, of the years that changed you both. 

You don’t respond fast enough because before you know it, he’s turning around, ready to head out the door.

“It was nice seeing you, too, Yoongi,” you say softly. 

But he hears it, stops walking for a while, and then opens the door and walks out. 

You wonder if he’d said something the day you left, would you have stopped and turned around? Or would you have kept walking?  

But thinking about that won’t do you any good, so you turn away as well and head upstairs.

Outside, Yoongi steps on the gas, turns to the next corner, and then stops the car. He clasps his hands together so they’d stop shaking, and he lets himself breathe for the first time tonight. He’s kept his cool long enough, but after everything - the party, the teasing, the car ride - he doesn’t think he can hold the emotions in any longer, and he doesn’t even know what they are. 

Longing? Sadness? Regret? Is it the unspeakable feeling of fear at the thought of you dating one of his friends who might actually be good for you? Is it relief at the idea that letting you go was the best thing that he could’ve ever done for you? Is it confusion over wanting so badly to take you in his arms but not wanting to feel your touch, knowing it would remind him of everything he’s tried to forget? 

Yoongi lays his head on the headrest and takes a breath. You’re so beautiful, as if some light shines on you wherever you go. It’s probably the glow you emit; he’s told you that before but you always said he was just teasing. He sees it even more now. 

But it’s also the crinkle of your eyes when you smile that sweet smile of yours that makes things feel familiar, and because of that, uneasy. It’s that honey sound of your voice; he heard it as you laughed during the party and joked around with everyone. It’s that captivating look you have, the one that says you know something but you want to know more; he felt that look when he entered the house and as he drove you earlier. 

He wonders if you saw past him, past his nonchalance and calm demeanor. You were always so good at that - knowing there was more behind his passiveness, knowing how to get a reaction from him, knowing which buttons to push so he’d open up and let you in. 

He doesn’t know if he should be afraid that you still know how to do it, or if he should revel in it because he’s missed you, more than he could ever say and more than he’d ever care to admit. 

But beyond all that, he’s sure that one of his emotions is happiness. Every time you talked about work and being able to watch yourself on screen - he swears he didn’t eavesdrop but that he just happened to be there - there was that excitement that felt like the continuation from when you used to talk about your big dreams with him. 

You got what you wanted and you worked hard to get to where you are and he knows you’re proud of yourself and that’s all he’s ever wanted. Seeing that smile - he knows. Letting you go was the best thing he’s ever done for you.

“What are you doing here?”

Taehyung’s hoarse voice forces your eyes off the ceiling onto your side where he’s currently hugging his pillow, messy hair and pouty lips on display. 

“Trying to get some rest after I saved your drunk ass last night,” you bitterly respond. “I got to you before any compromising photos or videos were taken. You’re welcome.”

“Hmm, thanks,” he groans. “But uh, why are you here? Didn’t you say you wanted proper rest in your house before seeing your family today?”

“Right, uh… you see. Yoongi drove us here, and then he asked if I wanted a ride home but I kinda panicked and said I’m sleeping over so… Here I am!” You laugh, unconvincingly. “My rental car’s on the way here. I’ll drive to my house and then go to my dad’s.”

“Ugh, you’re so dumb,” he says, sinking into his comforter. You gasp in response. “That was your chance to be alone with him but you didn’t take the offer. We both know you wanted to.”

“Tae, being drunk and not holding anything back doesn’t mean you can just assume things like that,” you respond, sitting up and frowning at him. “I didn’t want to be alone with him, that’s why I’m here!”

“Why didn’t you want to be alone with him?” He answers back.

“Uhm, why would I want to?” You ask incredulously. “Since when was getting in a car alone with an ex ever a good idea?”

“Why? You’re afraid you’d kiss him if you did?”

You scowl at your best friend. “I should’ve left you there drunk with possible penis drawings on your face.”

“Just being honest. It’s not like you’ve never done that with him before,” he shrugs. 

“I hate you.”

“I know. But you’ll love me later on. At least I’m still half asleep.”

You push him awake, the stress heightening now as the previous night plays in your head. 

“Tae! What happened to my hi, goodbye plan?!” You groan. “I was literally just supposed to say hi and then be civil, like, acknowledge his presence but not be affected by it. But then we had some small talk and he drove us home.”

“We all know it was a denial plan,” he huffs. “It was bound to fail.”

“Gee, thanks. You’re being incredibly helpful right now,” you frown again. 

“Fine,” he grumbles, sitting now. “You had small talk, he drove you here. How are those affecting you and why are you making it a big deal?”

“I’m not making it a big deal,” you point out. 

“You kinda are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are because that’s how things started before. And you’re afraid that one small misstep will cause you to fall for him all over again, fast and hard, because that’s how you are when it comes to him.”

“You’re hungover and tired so your judgment is impaired,” you say, crossing your arms. “You remember what happened after all that. I’ll be perpetually grateful that you never pushed me to talk about it unless I was drunk and couldn’t remember things but I was heartbroken, Tae. And then I was numb. It took a while before I started to feel again.”

“I know,” he says, taking you in his arms now as he holds you like a baby - a rare occurrence, as this often happens the other way around. “And I can never fault you for it because even if it was like that summer fling that only happened in the movies, I know you loved him, genuinely and intensely, and a love like that stays with you. But he’s got a good life here, ___, and you’ve got an amazing one in Seoul. You just have to remember why it didn’t work out in the first place and make sure you don’t fall into that trap again. Just… acknowledge that. For your sake. And then do what you need to do so you don’t make the same mistakes again.”

Enveloped in his warmth, you take in your best friend’s words. He may still be hungover and may also be confused but his comfort never seizes, and it’s one of the reasons why you love him dearly. 

“So yeah, good on you I guess for not taking that ride with him. Maybe staying away and keeping your distance might be good,” he adds.

Your silence somehow alarms him, so he nudges you. “It’s a good idea, right?”

“I don’t know. Suddenly I feel like staying away and keeping my distance will let him know that it still affects me. He’ll always know me like that,” you sigh, hugging him tightly for more comfort. “And there’s this part of me that wants to show him that I’m fine, you know?  That even with everything that happened between us, I walked away from it knowing what I deserve, and that’s someone who’ll fight through life with me. He didn’t and that’s on him but he had his reasons, and looking back, maybe he was right. Maybe he had to let me go, and maybe - because I loved him genuinely and intensely - I want to show him that it wasn’t all in vain. And that I’m happy. Even without him.”

“You don’t need to prove anything to him, you know?”

Maybe I want to prove it to myself, you don’t say. There’s a stubbornness in you that doesn’t go away. 

“This isn’t about him, is it?” Taehyung levels his head with you. 

For someone hungover, he still knows you pretty well. 

You just sigh and fall back in his arms. He doesn’t push you. He just hugs you again until you both fall back in bed and he can comfortably curl his body all over you because it’s Taehyung and he likes to do this. 

“Just be careful, alright?” He pleads. 

“You know I also kinda don’t have a choice,” you reply. “It’s a small town and we’re bound to see each other. Jungkook and Namjoon have a game here again in a few weeks and that means another get together.”

“Yeah, but you know what I mean.”

You hum. “Promise me you’ll be by my side whatever happens?”

“Always, you stubborn woman. I’m the one person who’ll never leave you even if you push me away.”

The lunch with your family is how you expect it to go - with your older sisters making some backhanded comments about your fame and how you’ve been “too busy” to even visit, and your father trying to dissolve the tension. He’s at least genuinely curious about how you’ve been, asking if you’re eating well and getting enough rest. Your stepmom raves about your drama series and shares that she cried during the finale.

“Why did he have to go back to his planet?” Garam’s 7-year old asks after your stepmom narrates what happened. 

“His time on earth was up,” you explain. “He finished his mission and he had to leave.”

“But why didn’t he stay if he was happy?” 

“Because he had a responsibility in his home,” you smile. “He wasn’t made for this world.”

“He didn’t have a choice, sweetie,” Garam adds after her daughter comments that it was sad. “That’s understandable. Some people leave because they’re no longer happy with those around them. Or because their dreams are more important than those they supposedly love. Isn’t that sadder?”

“It is. Don’t leave me, Mama,” the little one pouts.

“Oh sweetie, I never will. I don’t leave people that I love,” Garam responds, glancing at you to make a statement. 

You zone out after that, not wanting to engage with your sisters anymore. You play with their kids, though, who get excited when they see you on TV. You don’t want to treat them like you hold a grudge against them even if you do so with their mothers. Your sisters continue to do that with you - resent you when it’s your mom they’re really angry at for leaving your already unhappy family after she got her dream job in Paris. You were never angry though but you did sort of follow in her footsteps, and your sisters hated you even more because of that. 

“Are you staying for dinner?” Your father asks, the hope in his eyes hurting you. 

Things weren’t going well with your parents for a while, giving your mom more reason to leave, but you always wished that he had done more for you to feel loved in the home that started to become toxic after it fell apart, but you suppose he was just trying to heal his own broken heart after his wife left. It felt like your sisters weren’t going to forgive you when you decided to leave yourself, and he just let you walk away without making sure you knew he still loved you despite your decision. 

He’s moved on now, though, and happy with someone who prioritizes him and his needs. But too much time and distance can pull people apart - you can see them without the desire of being with them. That’s the reality with you and him now and there’s not much you can do about it. 

“No, I’ve got other plans,” you respond, glancing at your sisters who return your look with bitterness. “I’ll see you at grandpa’s tomorrow.”

You drive around for half an hour with no destination in mind. It’s nice to see how much this place has changed and discover which parts of it still feel the same. 

You pass by an antique shop - the antique shop,  a generations-old family-run store that used to be the hub of imported furniture that the townspeople once flocked to. It’s now a speciality store that still sells one-of-a-kind items but it also refurbishes old pieces. You see a poster on the window that’s promoting woodworking workshops. You won’t be surprised to find out whose idea that was.

A man briefly exits, and you stop near the front, wanting to just take it in. He’s got more gray hair now and walks a little slower but he looks just like you remembered - soft crinkled eyes, comforting smile, a look that you know all too well. You decide to enter, as you’re desperate for something - anything - that feels more like home than the one you just came from. 

“May I help you?” The man asks.

“A greeting and a hug would do,” you look up at him and smile.

“___?!” He gasps, walking outside the counter to get closer to you. “Is that really you, my dear?”

“Yes it is, Mr. Min,” you smile, returning the hug that you requested. “Just passing by my favorite antique shop in town. How are you doing?”

“Great! Business is stable and I’ve still got a lot of fight in me to continue,” he chuckles. “How about you? The big city treating you good?”

“It is,” you reply. “I think I’m doing quite okay there.”

“Ah, well it should be treating you amazingly. That’s what you deserve.”

You continue the conversation, with you asking about his latest projects and him, talking about his furniture and wood like his children, pride laced in his voice every time. He asks you about your latest series and if you’ve met his favorite actors and you indulge him. His laughter is music to your ears. You remember spending time here where he worked on his pieces while you talked about your favorite movies.

“Does my son know you’re here?” He asks after a beat of silence. 

“He does. I saw him last night. He looks well.”

“He does, doesn’t he? It took a while but he’s doing much better than before - smiling, joking around, helping me at the shop, talking about basketball again. It’s nice to see.”

The words hit you in ways you didn’t expect. Breaking up with Yoongi was tough to get over. Those last few months had been incredibly hard and so many times you thought that maybe if you’d been more patient, maybe things would’ve turned out differently. 

But you remember how during those last days with him, he’d lost the glimmer in his eyes and the softness of his smile. Not even you could bring those back. His passion for things just dwindled; he stopped wanting more, stopped wanting you, stopped thinking that things could still work out for him after what he suffered through. 

You’d kept in touch with Namjoon and Jungkook at their insistence, and they’d been the one to update you on how Yoongi was doing. Not a lot of details but just general things like the jobs he took and that he was keeping himself busy and that he was trying to get back on the court. It wasn’t with unpleasant stories, though - you learned about his new girlfriend from them, and that he didn’t play basketball for awhile, and that during the toughest days, he considered giving it up altogether. 

You knew he’d done well. You learned that from the guys, too. But hearing it from his father is different; you can’t imagine how it must’ve been like for Mr. Min to see his son start to change from what he used to be. But you know that as the good father that he is, he made sure that Yoongi knew he wasn’t alone. 

“And that’s good to hear,” you say. “Yoongi deserves all the happiness this world can give. I’m glad that he’s found his joy in basketball again it seems. And that he found it here.”

“He has, but I guess something will always be missing. He’s a lot better but he’s not the same. A parent would know, you know? The flame doesn’t shine as bright,” Mr. Min answers, the tinge of sadness in his eyes hurting you a little. 

But you just nod. His words seem to mean more but you don’t want to know what it is. 

“Dad, what did you want me to look at?”

Yoongi’s voice echoes in the shop and you can’t help but turn to him who’s just entered and looks as shocked as his father was earlier. 

You have a soft smile on, and Mr. Min knows not to intervene. 

“Oh, nothing,” he says, thinking that the new wood he acquired could wait. “Just watch over the counter for me while I check something inside, alright Son?”

He doesn’t let the younger man answer and just heads to the back, leaving you and Yoongi alone. He walks closer but keeps his distance. It’s enough for you to appreciate the softness of his face, though. His presence had always been reassuring; you see him twice and you’ve felt more comfort with him than you have in months. You don’t know how he does it, but that shouldn’t surprise you anymore. This isn’t the first time anyway. 

“Is Taehyung alright?” He breaks the silence. 

“Recovering, but more from his parents giving him shit for drinking too much,” you chuckle. “He got an earful and Mrs. Kim said she won’t let him in the house next time he gets that drunk. He’s doing chores as punishment.”

“Ah, well it’s been a while. It was nice to spend time with everyone again.”

“It was,” you smile now. 

“And you? Are you okay?” He asks, sincerity laced in his low voice.

“Yeah, of course.”

It’s the hesitant nod and the way your eyes look at anything but him, and he knows that whatever happened after last night is something you want to forget or seek comfort for. So he asks.

“So what made you come here? To the shop, I mean.”

“I was driving around. It didn’t register to me right away that I was in the area,” you respond. “And this place was always so calming for me, you know? The smell of wood, your dad’s stories…” 

You. 

“So I thought I’d come in”, you continue. “He hasn’t changed. It’s nice to see him.”

Yoongi always wondered what parts of you remained the same and which parts didn’t. 

Perhaps the playfulness tempered a bit. You seem a little more anxious than he remembers, too. There’s this sophistication about you that was always too good for this small town, and he sees that even more now. Your smile is still soft but it isn’t as bright. He won’t deny that it still makes his heart race, though. 

You have a habit of going somewhere familiar to seek comfort. You always looked for it in places, he noticed - in that dingy convenience store near your school, in your town’s secondhand bookstore even if you don’t like reading, in the Opera House where you and your mom used to go to. Yoongi learns now that that hasn’t changed at all. You’re in his dad’s store, a place you always wanted to go to after spending time with your family, and he supposes that’s where you came from.

He doesn’t know if he’s still someone you find comfort in and he doesn’t know if you even want to spend time with him after all these years, but he doesn’t have the heart to just let you walk out of here not knowing if you’re truly okay. 

He hated leaving you alone then when things weren’t good. You didn’t always want to talk but you said once that just hearing him breathing on the other end of the phone or just having his hand over yours made you feel better. He may not be the right person now but he’s still someone, and that’s always better than no one.

You eye the door, ready to leave, but his call of your name prompts you to look back at him.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” He asks.

“No, not really,” you reply. 

“Would you like to grab some coffee?”

The words are familiar. You hate that you remember everything about it.

“Just coffee?” You ask, almost teasingly.

He chuckles softly and meets your eyes, and somehow a part of you thinks that you shouldn’t do this. But you’re glad he asked in the first place.

“Yes, ___. Just coffee.”

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[little-diable]

How did she? - Aaron Hotchner (smut)

I've always wanted to write a father's best friend fic with Aaron, so here we go. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: (Y/n) runs into Aaron at a coffee shop, and even though she wonders why his name sounds so familiar, she ignores the warning signs.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), choking, age gap, dom!Aaron, sneaking around, somewhat public sex, basically just smut

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (about 2k words)

How did she end up here? How did she end up with her back arched off her father’s best friend’s mattress? How did she end up with his fingers wrapped around her throat and her legs slung around his waist? 

It had been an early morning the first time she had crossed paths with Aaron Hotchner, running into him at a coffee shop only a few blocks down from her apartment. Back then (y/n) hadn’t known anything about his ties to her father, the handsome man with dark eyes that told a story of lost lives and pouring blood, hands bigger than any she had seen before, made to handcuff those that unleashed their trauma upon their victims. 

“Oh god, I am sorry.” (Y/n) had murmured, dilated pupils taking in his handsome features, feeling her heat spread through her system. His voice had been soft, telling her that nothing had happened, a simple “Don’t worry” that would echo through her mind for weeks to come. She had been hooked from the very first moment, would have dropped to her knees right there and then for the man. 

The scent of his cologne had stuck for days, reminding her of their small interaction whenever her mind got a few seconds to daydream, wondering who the man that carried himself with an almost mysterious aura was. Back then she had been oblivious, eyes trying to make out the name that had been printed onto the ID-card hanging from his suit jacket, wondering why the name sounded so familiar. 

A few days later – days that had been spent with wandering hands and teeth marks left on her lower lip – (y/n) had run into him again, smiling at the man that stepped into the coffee shop only a few moments after her. It would have taken her too much courage to speak up, to exchange words with the man that hadn’t left her thoughts, but Aaron had taken the task upon himself, starting a conversation with the smiling woman. And even though he hadn’t shared much about himself, only his name, (y/n) had left the coffee shop with his number saved in her contacts and her heart skipping a few too many beats. 

She should have paid more attention to his name and the history tied to it, should have thought more about his profession and why everything about him seemed so familiar – but she hadn’t, ignoring the warning bells going off whenever she met with Aaron, joining him on a afternoon walk, grabbing coffee in the early morning or some food late at night. Nothing had happened until that very night she had been invited to her parents house, freezing in her step when her eyes had fallen upon Aaron’s frame. 

“(Y/n), do you remember Aaron? It has been a few years.” She had stuttered a small “No”, unable to rip her eyes from his confused features. Both hadn’t managed to look at one another for more than a handful of seconds, cursing one another for being this stupid, but while their conscious selves had stressed about Aaron's tie to (y/n)’s father, they hadn’t been able to stop their need for one another. 

It had been dangerous, stupid even, and yet it had been the first night they’ve shared a kiss, with (y/n) pressed against the door of Aaron’s SUV, hidden in the veil of darkness night had wrapped around the two, and her hands tugging on his roots. His voice had sounded deeper, raspier than before, growling a soft “So desperate for me, for your father’s friend, what would he think of you?”. It should have been enough to rip them out of their trance, stepping away from one another, and yet it had only pushed them closer together. 

––––

“Fuck, Aaron, I need more.” (Y/n) was heavily panting, hands gripping his covers, back arched off his mattress. Aaron was nestling between her thighs, mouth pressed against her core, tasting her arousal. His fingers were curled against her swollen spot, pushing her closer to her breaking point. Their eyes met every now and then, filled with lust, a desire reaching deeper than anything they’ve ever felt before. 

Aaron didn’t reply, he kept his eyes focused on her features, clearly challenging the moaning woman. He wouldn’t let go, not until she came on his fingers, with his name rumbling through her and her eyes squeezed shut. And who was she to pull away from him, not used to being treated like this. 

It was simple really, Aaron treated her like no other man ever had, with enough care to actually pay attention to (y/n), to the things she wanted and needed. And even though both knew that it was wrong what they were doing, they didn’t find the strength to let go, chasing one another whenever his job allowed them to spend time together. 

“So close, I-” (y/n)’s head rolled back, moaning into the night, letting her orgasm wash through her. Aaron kept pumping his fingers, not pulling away just yet, relishing in the sounds she made, how her walls clenched his fingers, not prepared for an orgasm this heavy. He only rose from his position when he felt her relax, panting with a few chuckles spilling from her lips. 

Aaron met her for a kiss, hands placed on either side of her head, giving her a few seconds to prepare herself for another round, heartbeat not able to slow down. Her shaking hand found his cock, pumping him a few times before he gently pushed her away, only to reach for a condom. Their swollen lips met for another kiss, momentarily distracting (y/n) from the feeling of his cock brushing through her folds, pushing into her without another warning. 

Her gasps guided him, like a ship making it through the dark sea, desperately searching for a lighthouse to guide it, weighing its capitan in false comfort. Aaron fucked her rough, skin meeting skin with every ferocious thrust, and yet he paid enough attention to her sounds, begging him to change his pace, needing to feel more of him, fingers and cock. 

(Y/n) was a moaning mess, putty in his hands – ever since they’ve fucked for the first time, one with their emotions guiding them. Aaron’s hand found her throat, squeezing just enough to heighten her senses, eyes not daring to flutter close, trying to uncover every thought, every emotion swimming in his pupils, a task she slowly but surely managed to master perfectly. 

“Atta girl, look at you, you’d do everything for me, huh?” She could only slightly nod her head, caged against the pillow that smelled like him, making her feel as if she was stuck in a simulation, surrounded by all things screaming Aaron Hotchner. A simulation she never wanted to break from, one with the man that currently fucked her closer to the edge, allowing her second orgasm of the night to rock through her. 

Tears dripped from her eyes, she was already overstimulated, unable to stop her body from trembling, shaking beneath the tall man as if she was freezing cold, drenched by the pouring rain, washing away her sins. His raspy chuckles left her burning from inside out, moaning his name as she came on his cock, clawing her fingernails into his forearm. 

Aaron followed her moments later, releasing himself into the condom with a groan, forehead pressed against hers. Only then did he let go of her throat, rolling off her to get rid of the condom before he pulled her into his chest, smiling into the kiss she pressed against his lips.

___

“Aaron, please, come in.” Her father’s voice echoed through the house, making her eyes snap towards the door. It was a warm August day (y/n) got to spend at her parent’s house, basking in the heat of the sun with her sunglasses on and her book placed right next to her. She hadn’t been able to concentrate on the words, distracted by the thoughts of Aaron, the man who’d spent the afternoon with her father, needing to keep up their little charade. 

“(Y/n)! Come say hi to Aaron.” Slowly she rose from her sunbed, trying to bite down the groan that threatened to rumble through her, body still aching from the way Aaron had fucked her only a few hours ago. She shot him a smile, eyes ranking over his frame as she neared him, sharing a short hug with the man who carried the marks of her fingernails on his back, hidden by his black dress shirt. 

“It’s good to see you, (y/n). How are you?” With a smirk pulling on his lips, Aaron followed (y/n) and her father back outside, greeting her mother with a kiss to the cheek. She barely spared her reply a thought, unable to think straight with Aaron standing this close to her, sleeves of his shirt rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms, eyes hidden by his dark sunglasses. 

Her eyes wandered towards Aaron at any given chance, not paying attention to the conversation her parents had pulled Aaron into, oblivious to the way their daughter stared at the man. And even though Aaron tried to keep his eyes focused on her parents, she felt his gaze flicker towards her every now and then, catching her gaze and the smirk she wore on her lips. 

Perhaps fate was on her side that very day, allowing the two lovers to give in the second her mother left for her afternoon yoga class and her father was pulled away by an important phone call that would take some time. Within moments Aaron pulled (y/n) in for a kiss, pressing her against the kitchen island with a short “Gotta be quiet, doll” rolling off his tongue. 

“We’ll have to be quick, you’re ready for me?” Barely any words managed to leave (y/n) as she took his hand to guide him towards her skirt, cunt bare for his wandering hands. A deep groan clawed through Aaron as his fingers touched her arousal-covered folds, dripping for him. And while (y/n) freed his hardening cock, he ripped a condom open with his teeth, allowing her to roll it down on his cock. 

“Turn around for me.” His tone left her shuddering, body turned from him, front pressed against the kitchen island. Aaron pushed into her without another warning, groaning as his eyes watched his cock disappear inside her tightness. Stiffled moans clawedd through (y/n) as he started fucking her, knowing very well that her father could walk on them any moment. 

She had a hard time keeping quiet, body tense, eyes squeezed shut. Bruises would form on her skin from the way he pushed her against the kitchen island with every thrust, and yet (y/n) couldn’t pay the pain any attention. Aaron had her clinging to the edge, about to let go after only a few thrusts. 

His fingers found her bundle of nerves, circling her clit with a smirk growing on his lips, feeling her clench around his cock. Aaron found pride in the way she was trembling for him, very well aware that he could do anything to her, not pulling away from the man she never wanted to part from again. 

“You’re already done for, huh? I knew you’d be turned on by this, allowing me to fuck you with your dad close.” Aaron’s groans managed to push her over the edge, eyes rolling back into her head, teeth drawing blood from her lower lip. He followed moments later, releasing himself into the condom with a small groan. With a gasp leaving her, (y/n) felt him pull out, taking off the condom before he redressed. 

"I'll get rid of this, tell your dad I had to leave, because of work. I'll see you tonight, right?" She met him for another kiss, murmuring an exhausted "Can't wait" against his smiling lips.

[auteurdelabre]

I don’t know if you take requests but I love your writing and I’m dying for a slow burn in post outbreak Jackson. Joel and fem reader strangers to friends to eventual lovers. Reader is in love with Joel from the beginning and is like him strong silent type but with a heart of gold. Lots of pinning and then a surprise when it turns out Joel pines for her too and Tommy and Ellie know that he loves her. Maybe some jealousy thrown in before soft dom Joel to sub reader smut. Then a snippet of them together after confession of love so you can hear what other towns folk think about them. Anyway, if you don’t take asks that’s totally cool and I look forward to reading whatever you write! :)

EDIT: I DID THE DAMN THING.

rating: 18+

words: 4.1k

a/n: I hope you like this @ashleyfilm.

Joel’s Eyes

The autumn chill of Jackson City winds around the sleepy hamlet nestled snugly within the Wyoming landscape.  The open window allows a breeze to ruffle the blankets on the end of the bed, your body moving rhythmically over his. He holds you by the hips, fingertips dimpling your flesh as you ride him; thighs spread wide and whimpers falling like snow over his body. His dark eyes stay fixed on you, his smile gentle as he encourages you to keep going.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “You keep goin’, baby. Just like that.”

It’s been three years since Joel and Ellie arrived and set up their permanent home. A snug rancher with a garage for Ellie to convert to her teenage heart’s content.  Three years since his lie to her that still sat somewhere wedged behind his sternum, but a lie he could ignore over drinks at the Tipsy Bison or hours spent carving in his shed out back.

It’s been eleven months since you arrived with your brother and his husband to Jackson. Living in the Denver QZ was nothing compared to the wide-open spaces of Wyoming. The food was plentiful, the community kind and warm.

Your brother Anthony gripped Hank’s hand a little tighter as they were shown one of the available houses on Magnolia Street. A sweet little spot with two bedrooms and bright windows. Maria and Tommy mentioned that there was another space for you as well if you wanted to look at it, a one bedroom one street over. You’d been thrown at the concept, having lived with your brother your entire life.

You didn’t want that to change. You didn’t trust the bright endless sky above you. Didn’t trust the neighbors that smiled without sharp fangs. It didn’t  feel quite real to ask for bread and not have to give a part of yourself in return. You were wary of everything.

The first night you watched the moon rise from the window of your very own bedroom with its soft bedding and firm pillows. Despite the comfort of your surroundings there was an ache, a loneliness you couldn’t understand.

You were out of the house most days, feeling like a burden to your brother and his endlessly patient husband. It made you seek out Maria and ask where you could volunteer your time in a quiet voice. You needed to give back to this place that gave you plentiful nutritious food and a warm bed.

She’d been eager to show you the different spots in town; the kitchen, the old church, the textile room, the library. You wanted to see everything, barely speaking, and all big eyes on the landmarks she pointed out with Tommy’s hand in hers.

“These are the stables,” she told you as you ambled after them. “They get taken care of by those that do the patrols.”

You nodded as you glanced around the large space, eyes falling on the different colored horses inside. Many were leaning over the wooden gates, eager at the new faces and hoping for a treat. One with a diamond pattern on its forehead intrigued you into reaching a hand out to pet it.  It huffed warm air along your bare palm, its whiskers scouring lifelines for a nibble.  A husky voice accompanied shuffled boots in your direction.

“New patrolee?”

“Nah just showing her around,” Tommy’s voice replied.

You glanced over your shoulder to see a broad-shouldered man with warm but serious eyes and dark curls threaded with grey that fell just below his ears. The minute you saw him it was like Cupid himself came down to spear you brutally between the ribs. A sharp sting that sent you backwards a step, the breath knocked out of you.

A sensation wholly new to you overtook your body. The nerves that had been choking you suddenly dissipated, leaving you warm and strangely calm.

Joel gave you a sharp nod before heading into a pen marked “Glimmer”. Your eyes stayed on his frame until he receded from view. The mere sight of his soulful eyes had made your breathing come out in tiny huffs that gave Maria an amused pause.

“That’s Joel,” she offered casually, though her glance to Tommy was anything but. “His brother.”

“Oh.”

You didn’t offer more than that.

But you did come back to the stables the next day and the day after that. You brought in feed and mucked out stalls. You did this all with the same solemnity that was in your nature. You met new people but rarely offered your smile to them. You didn’t trust that it would be accepted or handled with care.  

But there was no Joel.

It wasn’t until you’d been doing it a week that you saw him again. He was guiding Glimmer into her pen and he looked exhausted. You had always kept to yourself out of the way, but something about Joel’s presence carried your feet in his direction. It made you hover near the pens and hold out your hand for the reins.

“I’ll take her,” you offered quietly.

 Joel moved by you, his eyes not casting in your direction, his attention all on the horse. Immediately you felt the sour sting of public humiliation. A teen girl had entered the space after Joel and she saw the altercation.

“Don’t be upset,” she said. “He’s like that with everyone after patrols. He’s just tired.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, cheeks still warm.

“I’m Ellie,” the girl said, brushing a hand down the horse’s ribs with a playful tilt of her lips. “Who the fuck are you?”

Ellie was funny and warm and she was Joel’s daughter. She told you bits and pieces of their past and you didn’t push for more. You were quiet and thoughtful and Ellie told her you reminded her of Joel. This though amused and then delighted you, stuck on the idea of some invisible connection between you and the taciturn man.

You didn’t know why you felt drawn to him, you simply did. Not for the protection he could bring, not because every woman in town seemed besotted with him, not because he was handsome. But because from that first day there had been something in his eyes that called to you and that you desperately wanted to answer. A feeling of peace that you hadn’t felt in years. Safety.

When you passed him in town you thought you saw a lingering glance in your direction, but you knew that it was an idea nursed in delusion. This was a one-sided affection but you didn’t mind. After years of bad relationships in the QZ and the terror of travelling, having a harmless crush felt fun. A concept that was foreign and yet welcomed.

So you watched Joel Miller from behind the pens when he brought Glimmer in after patrols. You watched him when he and Ellie ate in the dining hall together, Ellie cracking jokes while one corner of Joel’s pouty mouth curled into a smirk. You watched him help building the new homes in town and if your eyes connected it was always you who looked away first with your pulse spiking.

It was three months before you spoke to Joel again, this time a simple “excuse me” when you bumped into him at one of the movie nights. The film had ended and you’d been making your way through the crowd before he stopped suddenly in front of you. Your hands flew to his chest, warm and taut under your fingers. He responded with a soft grunt, hands coming to grip your elbows. His touch was fleeting before he was nodding and shifting past you into the crowd while your heart hammered in your ribcage.

It was five months before he spoke a full sentence to you. “Can you put her away?” in response to Glimmer. You’d nodded, still not trusting yourself to speak in his presence after the first interaction. When his fingers brushed yours to pass you the reins you felt it tingle through your entire body. You couldn’t look in his face, convinced he would see the way your pupils had turned heart-shaped because how could they not have done so?

You tried to find reasons to bring up Joel in conversation with your brother and Hank, desperate to learn more about him from someone other than Ellie. Did they know Joel Miller? Neither of them did. Anthony let a small smirk cross his features when you asked, but it was Hank that answered. 

“Don’t run in the same circles,” Hank shrugged.  “I hear he’s tough though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, good with a gun too.”

“Hmmm.”

That night you waited until the rest of the house was asleep before thrusting your fingers between your thighs. You brought yourself to a muffled yet toe-curling orgasm at the image of Joel, gun raised, protecting you.

It was six months of living in Jackson before Ellie had Joel’s hand in hers, dragging him over to where you sat eating breakfast in the dining hall alone. You’d been trying to covertly watch Joel while eating your pancakes and the ever receptive Ellie had obviously had enough.

“I thought it was time you two actually talked,” she said with an eye roll before stomping off. You felt your cheeks heating up, convinced that now everyone could see your obvious feelings for her Dad. Joel looked equally thrown, his eyes going everywhere but yours. Finally he cleared his throat, nodding at you.

“I’m Joel.”

“I know.”

You winced at both the breathy tone and the blunt of your reply. You introduced yourself, swallowing when Joel’s lips curled into a small smirk, his eyes finally landing on yours.

“I know.”

Then he’d walked off, sauntering away back to his table and your clamped your thighs together tightly under the table. He knew your name? You immediately inflated at the thought that he’d asked around about you before remembering that Ellie had probably told him. She was one of the few people you interacted with here in Jackson. Keeping to yourself felt safer.  But being in Joel’s eye line felt safest.

It was eight months when Joel sat next to you at the bar top of the Tipsy Bison. You had a bottle of something sickly sweet and potent in your grip. It was your third of that evening and you had moved from pleasant buzz all the way into the beginning stages of drunkenness.

Earlier that night Anthony and Hank had looked at you across the dining table with painted on smiles.

“Maria was saying that they’ve done a lot of building. You could probably get your own place if you wanted,” Anthony said it kindly, not insisting one way or the other. Hank smiled warmly over the dining table, but you saw the hope there in his eyes. A home for just them and you wanted to give them that. They deserved it.

You’d nodded emphatically, telling them of course and that the idea excited you when in truth the concept terrified you. Being alone all the time? You knew you were safe within this haven of a town, but there were still the nightmares.

But in that fear there was a thrill of the unknown. Of having a place to call your own. But who to share it with? You’d had the built in company of your brother and Hank. You knew next to no one in this town. No one made you feel safe except for the man you barely spoke to.

Your conversation with them drove you to the Bison, needing a distraction from your distress. When you glanced up to see Joel Miller sliding into the barstool beside you it had taken all your drunken self control not to confess that his eyes were the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. Dark brown, like warm molasses that you desperately wished would drip over you.

He ordered a whiskey, hands folded on the gleaming wood of the bar. He tilted his face in your direction as he waited to be served, a light smile on his lips as he spied the three empty bottles in front of you.

“You doin’ okay?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded at your sweating bottle, fingertip tracing over the trail of a fallen droplet. 

“Don’t see you around the stables much anymore.”

This surprised you, having assumed that Joel didn’t notice you one way or another. Up this close you could see the freckles on his neck, could smell the wood from his carvings (thanks Ellie for that info), and whatever scent made him uniquely Joel in your olfactory opinion.

“They moved me to kitchen duty.”

“Oh.”

He brought his drink to his lips and full of liquid courage a thought bubbled forth and turned into a question thrown at his feet.

“Why’d you ignore me the first time I talked to you, Joel?”

Joel’s brow quirked at that, not seeing the connection from one conversation topic to the next. Your cheeks burned at the memory of him walking by you, not even sparing a glance. Joel turned his broad body towards you, hand dangerously close to yours resting atop the wood bar top.

 “When was that?”

“That first day in the stables. I said I’d put Glimmer in the pen.”

Joel looked thoughtfully into middle distance, brows drawn.

“I didn’t even know you said anything. You talk so damn quiet.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t mind it,” Joel told you quickly, his body twisting away as he continued drinking. “Everyone else is so loud around here.”

As it to emphasize such a statement a loud braying group of men guffawed over cards. You and Joel exchanged an amused look before going back to your respective drinks. The secret moment made you feel warm.  

You’d excused yourself quickly after that, tilting the remaining dregs of your beer into your mouth and then stumbling out of the bar. You’d just stepped out the door preparing for your journey home when you spotted Anthony looking harried.

“I was looking for you everywhere,” he said with concern, jogging over to you. “Since when do you get drunk?”

“Decided to try it out,” you slurred, a sloppy grin bleeding across your face. “I like it.”

Anthony laughed before slipping an arm around your waist. You leaned into him, breathing in the crisp night air deeply as you two stumbled towards home.

“Why’re you here, Tony?”

 “You left so quickly earlier,” Anthony replied in a soft murmur, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “I just need you to know that there’s no rush about the m-“

“Get your hands off her.”

You’d both turned, startled by the snarled shout coming from behind you.  Your bleary eyes took in Joel’s hand whipping out in front of him, gripping Anthony’s sweatshirt in his hand and hauling him away from you. With a drunken slur you tried to catch his attention, but Joel had already pressed Anthony up against the wood side of the building.

“Joel!” you shouted. “What’re-“

“She’s drunk,” Joel barked into Anthony’s face. “And you’re here tryin’ to make a move?”

“No!” Anthony shouted eyes wide with terror.

“You don’t get to touch her,” Joel growled and for the first time since you arrival you saw the ruthless killer people whispered about in his wake.

Anthony was up close to see the narrowing of Joel’s eyes, the baring of his teeth and he could only grip Joel’s wrist in supplication.

“She’s my sister!”

Joel’s gaze widened and then darted over his shoulder to yours for confirmation. All you could do was nod miserably as you watched Joel lower your brother to the ground as if he weighed nothing.

Before you could say anything to either party Joel had mumbled an apology and taken off into the night, his long legs slicing through the air.  You expect Anthony to be furious or at least scared, but as he brushes down his sweater he’s smiling at you.

“What?”

“So that’s Joel.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged with embarrassment. Anthony was almost laughing.

“He likes you.”

Your head rose abruptly from where you’d had it hung over your sternum. “He doesn’t.”

“He does. He was all protective of you.”

“He doesn’t,” you insist unsteadily even though everything in your body is coming alive at the idea. “That’s just Joel, I think.”

But Anthony doesn’t let up. He teases you mercilessly about it for two weeks. Two weeks in which you have replayed that moment over and over in the confines of your bedroom. You don’t get to touch her. You don’t get to touch her. You don’t get to touch her.

And at the end of two weeks and no sign of Joel you found his address from Ellie and marched to his house.

You give a sharp rap on the door, shocked when it flies open and a grumpy looking Joel takes up the entire doorframe. He looks like he’s been recently awoken and it makes your core twitch. Seeing Joel all sleepy and soft makes you want to curl into him.

“Hi Joel.”

His sweet molasses eyes land on you, widening in surprise. The irritation there flees immediately and is replaced with gentle surprise.

 “How do you know where I live?” Joel asks in a quiet rasp with his brows knitting together.

“Ellie.”

You’ve never been a loud talker and now with Joel’s beautiful face in front of you, this moment is no exception. Joel leans forward a fraction, ear tilted towards you.

“Wassat?”

"Ellie."

"Oh, a' course."

He gives a breathless chuckle as his dark eyes scan over your shoulder, surveying the neighborhood to see if you're alone. He rocks back on his heels, reminding you of a chastised child. 

"Look, I'm real sorry about what happened with your brother," he says and observing the way he's bracing himself you think he assumes you're here to dress him down. The thought takes you by surprise before amusing you. 

"Why did you?"

Joel stares at you a beat, acutely surprised by your sudden confidence.

"Was worried he was a stranger," Joel finally mutters. "And I didn't like some strange guy touchin' you."

You're shocked to see pink rising to his tanned cheeks. It makes you feel bolder; it makes you take a step towards Joel on his porch. It makes you speak a little louder, a little bolder.

"Why?"

His gaze drags from the ground, taking its time to travel from your feet to your eyes.

"You mean it ain't obvious?" He exhales slowly, looking defeated. “Cuz… your mine.”

You feel as your body jerks to life at this simple statement. The possessiveness in his tone, the desire, the hope all mixing into one incredibly potent cocktail.

“I mean, I want you to be mine,” he amends quickly, licking his dried lips nervously.

You can't help reach out a hand to touch his chest, palm flat. You feel his heartbeat there, fluttering like a trapped bird in a strong cage. Joel swallows, his gaze going from your hand back to your searching eyes on his. 

"I didn't know you liked me," you say in a hush to his sternum. "I didn't-"

"The day you got here," Joel confesses in haste. "The second I saw you...Somethin' just... clicked."

Your heart sings, making your pupils grow large in your eyes as you stare up at Joel. His large hand cups your cheek, thumb dragging over your bottom lip. You hold in a shiver as his eyes shutter.

"Haven't been able to get you outta my head since then."

"I felt it too," you say quickly, your hand sliding up to his shoulder as you step closer to him. "The moment I saw your eyes."

Those very eyes dart back and forth between your own, looking for guile, looking for deception.  When they find none, they shine again with that sweet warm cinnamon color gazing back at you.

"I'm not a good person,” he says in a voice that sounds tired and broken. A voice of regret and life lived. His warm hand drops from your cheek and he takes a step backwards into his house, away from your touch. “I've done a lot of terrible shit.”

You grip his hand in yours, guiding it back until it cups your cheek again. He allows this, even welcomes it. He stands watching as you nuzzle into his palm, eyes closing as you bask in the warmth of his touch.  Joel feels his feet stepping forward again, drawing near to you and this feeling you bring out in him.  

You open your eyes and reach up above his shoulder. He allows your fingers trap one of the curls below his ear, testing the smooth texture, seeing the browns and grays mixing together and reveling that you’re finally touching Joel Miller. He has your face in both his hands now, holding you delicately.

“I don’t deserve ya,” he whispers.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"Well I says I want you," you say smirking a moment after hearing it out loud. 

You've always been so quiet and serious. Right now there's almost a levity in how you look at Joel and he finds he likes it. A lot. His face breaks into a broad grin and you're amazed at how it transforms his face from austere to boyish. It makes you sigh, angling your body closer to his. 

"I wanted you the second I saw you, Joel. I can't explain it." Your hands lace behind his neck. 'Being around you makes me feel-." 

"Safe," he finishes for you.

When you nod he does the same, eyes scanning yours. You take a moment, hearts beating in tandem before he pulls you into his arms, mouth pressing to yours. The kiss is everything you’d hoped; warm and soft and sweet. It wraps you up in a cocoon of safety built with lust and comfort.

And now its eleven months and you live in your own home. It’s a street over from Joel’s and you take turns staying over at each other’s places. You also take turns cooking every night but it’s always done at Joel’s kitchen, often with Ellie offering unsolicited opinions from her space at the table where she sketches and makes retching noises when Joel kisses you. When you all eat together each night in the Miller kitchen there’s lots of laughing and shared stories and and if Ellie’s getting on Joel’s nerves he makes sure to kiss you heaps just to gross her out.

Despite how they first met, Anthony is one of Joel’s biggest fans with Hank following close behind. The three of them go fishing some weekends, coming back singing drunkenly with a chest full of fish. It makes you laugh with your whole body.

Maria and Tommy are the first to say what was already known during your first dinner together with them, “Fucking finally. You know how long this asshole was pining after you?” much to a red-faced Joel’s chagrin.

The first time Joel takes you to bed everything is slow slow slow. He wants to see your face, wants to make sure you feel good. He won’t chase his pleasure until yours has been sated first and often more than once with his tongue, his fingers, his cock.  When he groans his release it rumbles through his chest and echoes through into your ribcage. It makes you feel connected, like one body, one set of lungs, one heart.

When you first walk into town with Joel’s hand wrapped around yours the people don’t seem particularly shocked. Joel and you make sense to them, so similar in your quiet intensity, your serious dispositions. But when you’re behind closed doors and secret smiles are shared between you and him, the warmth of the moment invades your heart.

It makes you whisper “I love you,” into his jaw as he sheaths himself between your legs. It makes him murmur “Fell in love the moment I saw you,” in your ear. And it makes you cry when a few years later you feel your belly swell with new life.

And when your child is born you thank the entities above for giving her Joel’s eyes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

original answer to the ask:

I love reading requests but unfortunately I can't do them all! I kinda just write what the muses tell me to. Plus this sounds like a big, long story (which honestly sounds beautiful) but I have so many WIP's that I don't think I would get to this one. However, I might take this and adapt it into a short story for you if you want? (And if I can!)

fuckin' muses, eh?

[tomuras]

| My Honey |

Pairing: Acheron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Selfship Coded, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Acheron goes by She/Her pronouns, Break In (nothing bad happens), Reader has Abandonment Issues, Reader is referred to as a girl, Reader goes by No Pronouns but is very much mentioned to be fem, 3.1k words.

A/n: This is my attempt at my first Acheron fic. This was going to have smut but it just felt very out of place so I removed it. So, yeah this is just a big heaping handful of hurt/comfort lmao

Summary: It’s been two years since Acheron left so suddenly and her disappearance haunts you to this day. 

Tagging: @auphelia @suyacho @themovingcastlez

Time moved so slow as of late, always taunting you with the subject of her absence. It had happened so suddenly and before you could protest she was but only a memory. A memory that followed you everywhere you went, tormenting you. You’d lay down to sleep and her piercing eyes would cut their way into your mind. Dreams of her body against yours turn into nightmares in a flash. Everything about her followed you even after so many years and eventually you decided to accept it, embrace it. Sure, she would never return home, but maybe one day those nightmares would turn into pleasant dreams, and perhaps at some point you’d stop crying out her name in your sleep.

“Acheron..” You called out, but there was no answer.

Most nights were spent like this, lonely in bed aching for the touch of her hand, and even more were filled with you crying out into the darkness. She was never there, always a drifting memory in your empty life. You’d only known her for a couple years before she left but it was enough to get addicted. You still remember how her eyes lingered on your body, soaking in the sight of your curved form. Even after all this time you could feel her presence lingering over yours as if she was still there, looming over your body like a curse. 

You tossed and turned in your bed, clinging to the blankets as if they were Acheron. The lack of her scent stung your nose, so empty and clean. All you wanted was her warmth to keep you company. Little did you know of a stranger's presence in your room, stroking a hand against your resting face. The figure stands over your sleeping form, watching calmly as your breathing remains steady even though you were very clearly troubled by something. They look one last look before climbing out your bedroom window and jumping onto the ground below. 

It isn’t until morning that you notice something amiss. The room is cooler and something seems… off, but nothing too out of the ordinary. Although you thought about it all day regardless. The rest of the day is spent doing mundane things, busying yourself so as to not think of the woman you still loved, who’d up and vanished like it was nothing to her. You got a drink of water and your eyes glossed over the mug that used to be her favorite. Cooking dinner was no easy task either, because you were eating her favorite. Although that was entirely of your own fault, no one else's. Still, the grief was an experience you lived through everyday. The day was long and empty, each breath you take a painful reminder of what you had loved and lost. So, you decided to cut your losses and go to bed early. No good could come from staying awake any longer. Not all days were this bad, just today. I mean, it was the anniversary of her disappearance, after all. 

Even in the warmth of your bed you felt cold, a sickly feeling settling into your bones like it was home. You gripped the edge of your blanket in your fist, silent tears falling onto the fabric. Why couldn’t things have been different? Why didn’t she even say goodbye? So many questions ran through your mind, all without an answer to accompany them. Sure, it’d been years and yes, you should’ve moved on by now, but you couldn’t. God dammit, it was her, it was always her, and she left you without saying a word. Why would she do that? Did she not love you like you did with her? These questions haunted you until the moment you finally slipped into unconsciousness. 

In your sleep you dreamt of nothing, just a vast empty field full of wilted roses. On the horizon was the setting sun, falling past the ground as darkness nearly began to envelop you. It was beginning to get dark with every passing second. Ignoring the uneven path before you, you pressed onward. Water splashed quietly underneath your feet as you made your way through the field. Slowly, little by little, the flowers began to bloom and the darkness grew into light. That’s when you saw a shadow of a figure standing before you. They did nothing but stand there, waving to you just seconds before you woke up gasping for air. Your face was damp with tears, your heart raced, and you felt.. Different. 

Quickly you made your way out of bed, not paying attention to your surroundings as you frantically went to the kitchen to get a cold glass of water. As you poured the water into the cup you told yourself all would be fine. It was just a dream, you thought. Just a horribly familiar dream. Tears began to stream down your face, still. You took a sip of water, a single small drink before pouring the rest into the sink. You cared less of how wasteful you were being, only focused on the awful dream you had just experienced. Something in your chest bloomed in agony. Would everything always feel this awful? You shook your head as if to shoo away the thoughts.

Dragging yourself back into the room you didn’t bother to look up, not until you felt a sudden warmth, along with being welcomed into a room that was even darker than you remembered. That’s when you looked up and saw a person, someone familiar. Her. At first you didn’t know what to say. Your immediate reaction of fear quickly dissipated as your eyes locked onto hers. It had been years, years, and she came back. There was so much you told yourself you’d say if this were to ever happen, but none of them came to you right now. Instead you simply whispered her name like a forbidden prayer. 

“Acheron..” 

Her sorrowful expression blossomed into something hopeful and happy. She nodded, reassuring you that she had indeed returned home. Everything happened so suddenly just like when she left. Instantly you reached out to her, trying your best to walk towards her, but instead you fell to your knees. At least you would’ve had she not caught you in her arms. Acheron held you close, pressing your head to her chest as you clung to her and cried out a life’s worth of pain. You weren’t sure whether you were sobbing because of the pain or the sheer shock of her return, either way it felt as if your life was ending just as it had begun. 

Acheron didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if she should say anything. She wanted to say how sorry she was, confess how much she loved you, still loves you, but the words were lodged in her throat. It felt like hours in which she held you, stroking your hair and shushing you lovingly as you cried in her arms. Maybe it had been, but neither of you cared about anything or anyone but each other at that moment. The only thing that mattered to you was holding onto Acheron so tightly that she’d never leave, again. Acheron had no intention of leaving your side ever again, though. She knew she couldn’t just say that, she’d have to prove it over time, but she’d prove it for an eternity if that’s what would make you feel better. 

Finally your cries began to die down into something more quiet, you still clung to her but pulled away slightly to look up at the woman who’d walked right back into your life. “Why? Did I–” You were swiftly interrupted by Acheron’s voice.

“No. That had nothing to do with you.” She replied firmly. 

Still, you had your doubts and Acheron knew this. You rested your head against her chest, your hand hanging onto the loose fabric of her coat. Inhaling her scent you felt your body finally seem to relax, rocking itself into a state of relief. Your grip on her began to lessen as you felt your eyelids fall, exhaustion finally setting as Acheron continued to stroke the back of your head. You were moments from falling asleep when she spoke.

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice was a whisper, barely audible had you not been wrapped around her. 

You pulled back to look at her. She was crying, trying her best to avoid your eyes and hide her tears but failing regardless. Placing a soft hand to her cheek you pressed your forehead to hers, then adding your remaining hand to her opposite cheek. 

“It’s okay.. It’s okay..” You whispered back. 

She tried pulling away but your hands kept her grounded and in place, you weren’t strong by any means, Acheron just couldn’t bear the thought of putting any distance between the two of you. Was it okay, though? Truly could this agony she caused be relieved in any way? She gripped you close, holding the back of your head as she tried to will her tears away. Sadly, that did nothing to quell her sorrow. You tried to get her to look at you, reassuring her as you tried pulling away but she refused to loosen her grip. It wasn’t until you pushed her away and grabbed her face to look at you.

“Acheron, listen to me!” There was a brief moment of silence before you continued. “I know it won’t be easy and I know you hurt me badly. Trust me, I know, but I’m.. I’m willing to try.. Try to make this work. At least I will try if you will too?” You try to remain confident but your words fall into a question rather than a statement. 

Acheron couldn’t deny how badly she wanted to run away again, far far away, but she refused. She would not do to you, again, what she did before. No, she would do things differently this time, that she swore to herself. She wrapped you up in her arms again and gave you a tight squeeze. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” She whispered. “I promise.”

You smile and hug her back, crying tears of joy from hearing her words. Maybe there was hope for you two after all. 

The both of you held each other for a while. Although it felt like hours it had only been mere minutes. Then you sat up slowly and looked at Acheron with a smile, kissing her gently on the lips.

“Come on, let’s get something to eat.” You stand up and hold out a hand for Acheron to help her off of the floor. 

“Okay.” She replied softly. 

You led Acheron to your kitchen where you pulled a chair out for her at your round, wooden table as you quickly rummaged the cabinets to prepare her a glass of water. 

“Water okay?” You ask.

She nods and hums in approval. 

After pouring her a glass you set it on the table, and then go to make yourself a cup of coffee. You add your usual to it, stir it and then sit it on the table, as well. You sit down for a moment to take a sip of your coffee, think of what you were going to make her now that she was home. Did she still like the same things? Has her palette changed that much? Would she want something different or find comfort in the same old things? 

“Is everything alright?” She asked hesitantly, her voice pulling you from all those daunting thoughts of yours.

Your hands shook as they curled around the coffee mug, you didn’t know what to say. What should you say? 

Acheron reaches out a hand and places it on top of yours gently. “Hey, I’m not goin’ anywhere. Never again.” She smiles at you fondly and you know that her words are true.

Still, that doesn’t erase the doubts that linger in your mind. Maybe a meal would ease the anxiety itching at your stomach. “Yes, I’m okay. I think..” You paused. “I think I just need to eat something.”

You pull away so suddenly and begin to look through the fridge for something to eat, then as you drowned in your thoughts again you began to frantically look for that one food. It had been here before,  you didn’t eat it, not that you remembered, anyway. So, where the fuck was it? Why was everything so unorganized? Why hadn’t you thought to have food readily available for moments like this? Why were you so messy? Why were you such a mess? Why were you so fucking pathetic?! 

“Hey,” A hand gripped your wrist and you were flipped around to face Acheron. “That’s enough.” 

Tears flowed down your face, staring at the ground in shame as Acheron moved to quietly shut the fridge door. This was her fault, she did this to the girl she loved the most. She had to pay for the consequences but you shouldn’t have to. Acheron took her hand and moved your head to bring your attention back to her.

“Listen to me, you did nothing, absolutely nothing to make me leave.” She whispered, her lips inches from yours. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

Oh, how you wished you could believe her. 

“But..” You started to speak but not before Acheron promptly shushed you. 

“No. I mean it.” She paused, looking deep into your eyes before averting her gaze slightly. “This is my burden to bear, not yours.” 

Although she was correct in that fact you couldn’t shake the scratching feeling that you could’ve at least done something. You should’ve seen the signs you so commonly told yourself. Logically you knew you shouldn’t think like that but you couldn’t help it. The event truly messed you up and it made you second guess whether things would work with Acheron. Thankfully you came to your senses fairly quickly. This would not be an easy fix, it would take time and energy neither of you probably had, but it would be worth it. Sure, some would call you a fool, but you already lost her once and you weren’t about to do it, again.

Acheron thought about saying something but resisted, not sure if the words were productive to say. She shouldn’t and refused to be selfish at a time like this, no matter how guilty she was feeling at that moment. 

“It’s going to take some time, maybe too much time, but the work will be worth it. You are worth the work.” She reassured you.  

She placed both her hands on your face and rubbed the pad of her thumb against your cheek. “I fucked up, royally. I know it and you know it, but, please, let me fix this. Let me prove to you my love.” 

Her words stung in the way that they were so raw. Acheron had in the past kept many things from you, holding her honesty as something only some deserved to know. Unfortunately she realized a little too late that you deserved that honesty. Fuck, how she wished she could take it all back in a heartbeat. She smiled weakly at you and you leaned in closer, your lips now just barely grazing hers.

“I trust you.” You whispered against her lips, then softly pressing your lips against hers.

She pushed you away gently, her face filled with an expression of pain. “No. I don’t deserve it, not yet at least.” 

“Shh, just trust me..” You shushed her, leaning in for another kiss.

This time she didn’t pull away, too captivated by the touch of your lips to even want to back away. Granted some scared part of her dug deep down wanted to run far away, but she couldn’t and wouldn’t. Although it would be the easiest option it was not the one she truly wanted. It was not an option in her mind, the only choice she had was to love you. Acheron swore she would love you even when her hands shook and your body withered away, becoming food for the ground. She would love you even when the two of you were no longer bodies to feed and rather just souls floating into the empty chasm of space. 

She pushed her lips harder against yours, whimpering a little at how you grabbed at her shirt. You were so desperate for her love that it threatened your body with a wound you feared could not be cured by Acheron’s hands. You didn’t care, though, you just wanted Acheron. Wanted her to touch you, fuck you, love you. Truthfully you just wanted Acheron in any way she was willing to give herself. You ached for her, the good and bad, ignoring any potential consequences it could give. 

Acheron clumsily pushes your back against the fridge as your lips part and teeth clash in the heat of the moment. Your hands roam her body as hers hold onto your face firmly. Both of you are filled with fervent desire, kissing one another feverishly. The two of you fight for dominance until you pull back out of the kiss panting and looking up at Acheron with wanting eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I got carried away.” Acheron apologizes.

You smile. “It’s okay. I- I didn’t mind.” You admit. 

She blushed as her hands, which were by her sides, were grabbed gently by your own. You rubbed the back of her hands with your thumbs, humming something familiar as you did so. Acheron heard it somewhere before, but memory failed her. She leaned her forehead against yours and closed her eyes, humming in pleasure as she feels you kiss her cheek gingerly. The both of you hold where you’re at before you grab her face and give her a gentle kiss.

“Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” You say, starting to get some eggs, milk, and sausage from the fridge. “You must be hungry.” 

Acheron hums. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

Although you can’t see the great big smile on Acheron’s face, it’s there. She stands beside you and watches with glimmering eyes as you start to prepare the pan to prepare a very early breakfast. Maybe, she thought, things would be okay. Perhaps you two would make it out to see the light, after all. Either way, one thing was for sure, Acheron was beyond happy to be back into your life. Life wasn’t as bad as she’d always felt it was. For once, she felt truly and undoubtedly happy.

[bahbahhh]

PLS TALK TO ME ABOUT "BEGIN AGAIN" I WOULD DO SOOOO MANY ILLEGAL THINGS TO READ IT FOR THE FIRST TIME AGAIN </3333333

Oh man, begin again. Where do I, well, begin?

It started with the end — that is, the first I knew was I wanted to write a story that ended with Link giving Zelda Hateno house.

I became obsessed pretty early on in my play-through of totk with the changes between it and botw. And when I say obsessed, I mean annoyed. I love botw. I love the world and the landscape and the characters and the story. It just felt like too much was wiped away without explanation and I decided, damnit, I was going to fix that.

Here are so fun facts/ hidden gems/Easter eggs:

Chapter 1

She is not aware of a word that accurately describes the feeling of being forgotten by the person you tethered your heart to; to have it remain connected to that person and witness it drift behind them, becoming more of a dark cloud than guiding light.

This is a little nod to like someone would. I totally Link runs from his destiny a little bit before he faces CG. And writing from Zelda’s POV, I felt like I had to recognize the pain of witnessing that.

He jokingly calls it an ‘adventure pouch’.

Call back to SS!

Chapter 2

“Even the Divine Beasts?”

“Especially those,” he asserts.  

Another nod to like someone would Link. I always feel like, similar to how SS Link would have hesitation being a child of the sky entering temples, especially underground, this Link would hate entering the divine beasts. It feels like a living tomb. I wanted this contrast between he and Zelda’s perspective where, earlier, she thinking about all the ways they could be repurposed to help Hyrule, Link only sees how it can fall again. And the pain they have already caused.

“It trapped his soul inside his body,” King Dorephan says.

I hc Link was very much dead in botw. The shrine of resurrection essentially tethered his soul to his body long enough for it to be prepared so his soul could be convinced to remain inside. I have a wip sitting around about Link’s time in this stasis and how all three of this trio (Zelda, Ganondorf, and Link have all spent some time in it) but who knows if I’ll write it.

To this group, so revitalized by new hope, united and rising from a hundred years of ruin, her proposal of clinging to their ashes might feel like poison. 

Like malice.

I’m a little obsessed with thinking about and justifying how at any given point, Zelda and Link could become a calamity as well.

“You said you think the Shrines work like the Divine Beasts? So in theory, those stopped working because our friends—” Grief, unexpected and sudden, crackles in her voice. She clears her throat. Pivots. “You can’t use their gifts any longer, right?”

Link flexes his fingers slowly. Like he’s just missing something that keeps passing through his fingers. “I let them go.”

This was a very important change I wanted to spend time on: The champion’s gifts. It broke my heart to think when mummy ganon attacked Link, he stole their gifts (essentially their souls) away from Link. And I decided it lined up with Link’s characterization in this story, that he would let them go versus hold onto them longer than needed. He especially, down to his very core, knows what that is like.

> Rest? <

I wanted a plausible explanation for how the shrines disappeared from the map and I just thought this was so clever when I came up with it, hah. That souls fixed for so long, so dedicated and driven by purpose might need permission to let go (HINT HINT ZELDA) And also, Link had the answer all along because, essentially, it’s what he did for the Champions when they let the gifts go.

Chapter 3

A bit of a logistics chapter but I wanted to wrap it around moments of feeling. Grief and living with grief is a huge theme through the entire story. I just love the “I’m 18” scene and how she’s physically moving forward before she’s emotionally there.

With her soul is exposed and pulsing like a nerve, she can sense the entirety of the Sheikah Technology network - all the shrines, every guardian, the towers stretching up into the sky, the furnaces burning outside the Labs - all these things without a mouth suddenly have one, and they open wide and desperate, and begin to siphon energy from her.

In theory, since the Sheikah tech runs on soul energy, I felt like it would make sense it has a hard time recognizing what is fuel and what I not. So every time Link fast travels, it’s like he’s bargaining with the horned statue. I always felt like you should lose a half heart when you fast travel in botw.

I was a little nervous it would fit with the story, but I really love the letters. It was the perfect opportunity to show Link has a lot going on in his head behind his few spoken words.

It does feel fast, but at the end of it all, it's just another year. Important things take time. 

This comes back in chapter 6 when Link tells Zelda how he feels about her.

You want to know where my favorite place in Hyrule is? There is a spring on top of a waterfall north of Lake Floria. It's where I first saw Farosh. Came right out of the water and climbed up into the sky above my head. Nearly scared me to death. I can’t really explain it well, but it's where I realized I wanted to actually be here. Ruins and wild and all. It's where I realized I wanted to be the one to save Hyrule. To save you.

Another like someone would reference. Also laying foundation of Link connecting with dragons…light dragon feels.

It’s just, sometimes it feels like this destiny asks too much, you know? 

This is a big theme in the depths au. A lot of my stories are connected/have passages that inspired others.

Chapter 4

The shrine Link got sick from was Noya Neha shrine. It’s next to Hyrule castle and it’s a cave shrine. I wanted to subtly introduce gloom sickness in a way it would take several years to become a problem consistent enough for Hyrule to pay attention to. In the beginning, I see it as something just chalked up to a random virus/illness. While Link and Zelda have more of a resistance to it, I argue because of all the fast travel and not taking the best care of himself for weeks, he was in a weakened state and more susceptible to the gloom in the cave.

“What are you talking about? Who will–” Paya freezes as Impa pulls off her hat, revealing a thin coil of silver braid on the top of her head that partially uncoils and drops down by her ear. 

It only felt right that Impa would drop a bomb on Paya and announce her retirement so casually.

The thin coil braid is a nod to SS Impa.

Calamity Ganon could easily be mistaken for a dragon. Can you imagine? Facing off against a wicked version of Dinraal or Farosh?

Foreshadowing the demon dragon.

You can clearly see she was Hylian by the ears, but the hero has none of Link’s features. He barely looks human. They chose the Champion blue from the color found in the threads that make up the ancient hero’s armor, but up close, she can see it’s a blending. They could have just as easily gone with green.

Nod the ancient hero’s aspect design. I’m so desperate to make this feel connected to botw because it doesn’t, haha.

‘It needed to heal,’ he signs. ‘I decided to let it.’

Again, an easy way to let Link’s characterization explain the detail of them having to retrieve the Master Sword before they descend under castle to investigate in the opening to totk and the Master Sword needing/being able to heal (Zelda’s decision to swallow the stone in totk).

Chapter 5

“Strong name.” The old man tugs off his hat and bows his head. “My name’s Toffa, by the way. My grandfather was head groom for the Royal family a century ago, Princess. His name was Talon.”

Nod to OoT.

Link drops down beside Zelda with two plates of food. He sets one in her lap, ignoring Tauro completely until Zelda picks it up. He’s unusually close. There is a strange edge to him; she feels it along the long line of his thigh against hers. Like she's thumbing the edge of a blade.

It was really fun to make Link a little jealous of Tauro and Zelda be completely oblivious to it.

I just love the entire Riju and Zelda scene. It felt really important for me to spend some time on Zelda facing her grief with Urbosa. I wrote a scene in the Killing Moon where Zelda uses Urbosa’s sword to cut her hair and I loved it so much I wanted to keep that theme with explaining her haircut. And of course, the most simple change between games (Zelda’s appearance) became a moment of a deeper significance.

Chapter 6

“It’s just, I remember reading that the Rito were once thought to be water dwelling.”

Nod to fandom lore Rito evolved from Zora.

“Our ears. They used to be longer.”

Another nod to fandom lore. Hylian ears once being longer to hear messages from goddesses. Sonia longer ears.

Purah’s change in appearance felt like an important change to spend some time on, not just because she’s suddenly older but also why Robbie and Impa didn’t de-age, too. It stands to reason, the same tech that ages her up could be used to alter Robbie and Impa’s age.

The air is damp and heavy. It smells – she thinks about Link and the cave shrine – funnier than it should. Musty and mineral and sickly sweet, like something is rotting behind the bedrock.

Another tiny foreshadowing of gloom.

“Just burn it.” She hears her father in the harshness of her tone. There is ink on her fingers. 

Fun fact- this is happening in the exact spot you get the memory in botw where her father scolds her.

“The song you are humming,” She fails to keep the edge out of her tone. “What is it called?”

He’s humming the song of storms in this scene. It’s why storm clouds are approaching and Farosh flies overhead.

“Kondo. The court poet’s name was Kondo. He was a Sheikah.”

Nod to the music composer for many of the iconic LoZ themes- Koji Kondo!

‘I choose you. Do you choose me?’

I wanted to say I love you without saying I love you. And for these two, bonded by destiny, choosing each other feels so much stronger, more significant and romantic to me than a declaration of love alone.

Chapter 7

The entire scene of her walking through the village and being stopped multiple times is my explanation why she eventually wants/needs the secret well.

I wrote the first passage of the story- Zelda wanting a bed- and the last passage - Zelda getting a bed/house- at the same. I broke it up when I gave it to my beta reader and only edited it a little when it was time to put it into the final chapter.

[blogger360ncislarules]

It started and ended with a Big Bang.

Thursday’s Young Sheldon series finale marked the returns of Jim Parsons and Mayim Bialik as Drs. Sheldon Cooper and Amy Farrah Fowler. A future-set storyline confirmed that Sheldon has been writing his memoir all of this time — hence Parsons’ role as narrator and Bialik’s periodic interjections throughout the prequel’s 141-episode run.

Sheldon was determined to stay home and keep writing — more on all those office Easter eggs in a moment! — but Amy insisted that he get up and attend their son Leonard’s hockey game. (Leonard plays for the Pasadena Penguins, which tells us that Sheldon and Amy haven’t moved very far from 2311 North Los Robles Ave. in the years since they won their Nobel Prize.)

Big Bang Theory viewers likely clocked about a dozen Easter eggs in Sheldon’s office — including, but not limited to: Sheldon’s Nobel Prize, a framed photo of #Shamy in Stockholm, the DNA model, a Flash mug, a Rubik’s Cube coaster… and the couch from Apt. 4A!

“We should have kept count of how many Easter eggs are actually there and see who could catch them all because there’s a bunch,” executive producer Steve Holland tells TVLine. “There’s the robots boxing painting that hung in the living room… Sheldon’s Gollum statue is on his desk… there’s a little MythBusters bobblehead of Adam Savage that was on his bookshelf on Big Bang Theory….

The biggest Easter egg of all is saved for the series’ very last scene. Upon arriving at the California Institute of Technology, Sheldon is approached by a professor who asks if he’s lost. He’s played by none other than UCLA professor David Saltzberg, an experimental particle physicist who has served as a scientific consultant on both Big Bang and Young Sheldon for a combined 18 years, after he was first hired as a consultant on Big Bang’s unaired 2006 pilot.

In the video, series star Iain Armitage (aka Young Sheldon) talks with TVLine about Parsons and Bialik’s returns and sharing his final scene with Professor Saltzberg. Below, Holland dives even deeper into Sheldon and Amy’s returns and offers an update on the rest of the Big Bang Theory gang.

TVLINE | What was it like having Jim and Mayim back and getting to write for these characters again? I mean, it was so great to have them back just as people. We spent so many years with Jim and Mayim, and we still see them from time to time and keep in touch. Jim, obviously, works on the show, but we mostly see him on Zoom from New York. On a personal level, just to get to hang out with them in person again was great, and then to watch them step back into these characters was really emotional. I think Jim and Mayim both have said that they were very nervous and that they weren’t sure they could just step right back into [these roles], but it didn’t feel like that from watching them. It was also a difference of going from a multi-cam show [shot in front of a live studio audience] to a single-cam show, and watching them make those adjustments to play it differently. You play everything a little bit smaller, and they just did it so effortlessly. From the outside, just watching them slip back into these characters, felt really great.

TVLINE | I think many fans, myself included, were expecting a fleeting glimpse of Sheldon and Amy — perhaps they’d be saved for the tag scene. I was not expecting to see Jim and Mayim in what felt like a third of the episode! Like you said, people know that they’re going to be in the finale, but is there still a way to surprise people? Maybe most people think that this is going to be a coda at the end, so hopefully cutting to them right off the bat will come as a bit of a surprise. We were also trying to be really careful not to let them overwhelm the finale because, at the end of the day, this was still a Young Sheldon finale and this still had to be about the Cooper family. I feel pretty good about how we struck that balance. It was more than just a cameo, but that the whole episode didn’t revolve around them was important to us.

TVLINE | You revealed in Young Sheldon‘s Season 4 premiere that Sheldon and Amy’s son is named Leonard, after Johnny Galecki’s Leonard Hofstadter. Why didn’t you reveal their daughter’s name in the series finale? You know, we talked about it, but there’s a point of where it starts to feel like a barrage of Easter eggs. We had said the name Leonard before, and it felt like if you were going to say the daughter’s name, it would be weird if it was just Sally, you know? It had to be something, and then it felt like, “Are we learning into Easter egg territory?” We like the fact that like there are a bunch of these Easter eggs on the set that aren’t focused on [in the episode] and hopefully people won’t be so distracted by them that they they don’t pay attention to the scene; you can go back and rewatch it, freeze frame later and see what you can catch.

TVLINE | Sheldon has the couch from Apt. 4A in his office. That feels like a pretty big, potentially distracting Easter egg! The couch we rarely focus on. We thought if it’s too featured, people are gonna be, like, “It’s the couch!” and no one is going to pay attention to what’s going on. We were trying to be very careful about where we put things and keep them in the background.

TVLINE | We establish that Sheldon and Amy have moved out of Apt. 4B and have a house, but they’re still living in Pasadena. But having the couch from Apt. 4A, which stayed with Leonard and Penny once Sheldon moved across the hall with Amy, would seem to indicate that maybe, just maybe, Leonard and Penny have also moved now that they have a kid of their own. In your mind, are the characters from Big Bang — Leonard, Penny, Sheldon, Amy, Howard, Bernadette and Raj — all still close by and in each other’s orbit? I think so. I think they’re still close, and still friends. It was important for us at some point to put in an establishing shot of the house they were in because we wanted to make sure people didn’t think they were still in the apartment. It doesn’t look exactly the same, but it doesn’t look so different that you could not look at it [closely enough] and think that it was just the Big Bang Theory set. It was important for us to let people know that they have a house. They’ve grown up, they’ve moved out of the apartment, and in our minds, a lot of that stuff in Sheldon’s office is stuff that Amy was, like, “Well, you can put that in your office. That’s not going in the rest of the house, but that can go in your office.”

TVLINE | We end with Sheldon’s arrival at Caltech. It’s the first time you have shot on location, outside on campus. How did it feel to be able to shoot there after this combined, 19-season run? It felt amazing. I think the only other time on Big Bang that we went there was once when Stephen Hawking was on the show; we went and shot him in his office at Caltech, but you wouldn’t have known that because it was just inside. This is our first time going on the, on the outside of and we and the Sheldon had gone to visit [in Season 3], and we had seen the cafeteria [set from Big Bang], but to actually go to the campus was great. We talked a lot about who the professor should be that stopped Sheldon and has that last exchange with him, and we realized that other than [series co-creator] Chuck [Lorre] and Jim, [Professor Saltzberg] has been with the character the longest because he worked on the first Big Bang pilot. It felt like a really nice way to recognize David and all that he contributed to both of these shows that he has the last moment there.

TVLINE | Young Sheldon‘s series finale airs Thursday, May 16, 2024, exactly five years to the day that Big Bang ended on Thursday, May 16, 2019. Does it feel like kismet that these two shows get to share a date in TV history? I don’t think I actually realized that it was the same exact date — that it happens to be a Thursday and falls on the same date again. Yeah, that feels… that feels right!

[lewmagoo]

before the devil comes for you | robert “bob” floyd

chapter two previous chapter | next chapter

summary: the year is 1975. robert floyd is a young reverend haunted by demons from his past. fresh out of seminary, he is led to take up a backwoods church in a small mining town. there, he meets a woman who is in the midst of questioning the very foundation of her faith. as their worlds collide, robert soon finds himself tangled in a web of temptation and lies. with the past he’s spent so long trying to outrun quickly closing in, he is faced with a decision, in which he must either condemn the woman he loves, or turn his back on his faith.

listen to the playlist here

pairing: robert "bob" floyd x oc (fairlight mackall)

warnings: 18+ ONLY, heavy religious themes, slight sexual innuendos, mentions of death, some misogynistic idealism, mentions of parental abuse, gunshot injury (not described in great detail but it's still a a significant part of this chapter), mentions of gun violence, medical emergency. i think that's all? let me know if i missed anything!

Morning dawned upon the mountains of Backforty Gap. And in an old farmhouse on a bountiful plot of land, a young woman was just waking to prepare for the day. 

Fairlight had risen with the sun, and when her eyes opened, a smile graced her features. This was no ordinary day. Her mundane life, the life she was so desperate to escape, had suddenly become very, very interesting. 

And it was all thanks to the young preacher currently residing on her property. 

When her father had informed her of a new reverend by the name of Robert Floyd taking on the church, she hadn’t been all that thrilled, only because she imagined a carbon copy of their previous reverend. 

But then a fresh-faced man who couldn’t have been any older than thirty appeared, eyes hopeful, hands trembling with his eagerness to help this community, and Fairlight’s world was turned in its axis. 

She didn’t know what it was about him that drew her in. He was just magnetizing. A little shy, very clean cut, in both appearance and the way he carried himself, and shrouded in mystery. 

She wanted to know more about him. Where he came from, who he was before he became a man of the cloth. Fairlight had always been particularly skilled at reading people, and when she looked into the pale blue eyes of the preacher, she saw a man running from something. But what it was, she had yet to figure out. 

He was the first thing on her mind as she got up that morning, readying herself for the day. She found herself wanting to impress him. To show him what a good host she was, even here, in the backwoods of a God-forsaken town in the middle of the mountains. 

Surely he was used to city comforts. Coming to a place like this was probably a culture shock. She could only imagine such a thing. She’d lived in Backforty Gap her entire life. It was a place that was frozen in time. While things had certainly changed over the course of her twenty-one years of life, it was still the same impoverished community it always had been. 

She’d been to the city, with her father. She knew how much life differed from the village. The people of this area were incredibly poor. If she had to guess, she might even say it was one of the poorest communities in the entire state. And no one cared. Why would they, after all? A group of backwoods hillbillies were better left out of sight, out of mind. 

The children were hungry. The parents worked their hands to the bone to provide for those children. Many of them lived in squalor. Illness was often prevalent, especially because many of these families had a surplus of children, who spread illness back and forth. 

That was why an outbreak of scarlet fever the year before had deeply affected the community. And before that, many eldest sons had left to fight in Vietnam. It seemed that the community kept dwindling, growing smaller and smaller. Fairlight feared that it would soon cease to exist. And that was part of why she wanted to escape. 

She felt like the walls were closing in on her. Like she was going to be trapped here, destined to be someone’s housewife, to stare into the hungry faces of her children and grapple with the reality that she could not provide for them. She would be forced to depend on her husband for that. And life in these mountains was hard. It could be beautiful, but it could also be cruel and unforgiving. 

She didn’t desire a life in which her husband lost his to the mines. She refused to be a young widow with little ones to care for. 

The first chance she got, she was going to leave this place behind. She would remove herself from the control of her father, and start her own life. 

Montgomery Mackall kept his daughter on a short leash. As the deacon of the church, he expected much from her. She had to attend every church service. She had to participate in ministering to the community. She had to take care of the household. Tend to the cooking, cleaning, sewing. Everything her mother was supposed to be responsible for. 

Opal Mackall had left when Fairlight was only six-years-old. By default, “woman’s work”, as Montgomery called it, fell upon his daughter, even though she was but a small girl. She’d been forced to grow up fast. 

She had forced herself to grin and bear it, doing everything the right way in front of her father. If she disobeyed or committed a grievous sin, she would be in a world of trouble, and would often suffer an onslaught of lashes from his heavy belt. 

However, instead of walking the straight and narrow, she learned to hide things from him, to sneak around behind his back so he would be none the wiser. But it was only a matter of time before she stopped caring. Stopped hiding, stopped playing the part of the good little church mouse. And when that time came, she would leave her father and his iron rule behind, and become the person she’d always dreamed of being. 

Until then, she was trapped in a never-ending limbo, just waiting to take that leap of faith. 

But now, while she waited, she at least had someone interesting to observe. And observe him, she did. While she strolled out to the chicken coop to gather the eggs for the day, she caught sight of the reverend making his way back to his quarters. 

It appeared that he had just bathed in the river nearby. His shirt hung over his body, the front open to expose a flash of milky white skin. His hair was still damp, and curling around the edges, just against his forehead. 

Fairlight found herself staring, unable to take her eyes off his ethereal countenance. But she quickly averted her gaze, burning with shame when she realized what she was doing. It was one thing to lust after a boy from the community. But the preacher? Surely God would curse her to eternal damnation.

But the holy fire she was sure she was going to be struck with never fell, and when she looked up again, he was gone, having slipped into his cabin and shut the door behind him. The flaxen-haired girl let out a soft breath, shaking her head at her own foolishness.

Even still, as she gathered the eggs from the hens, Reverend Floyd remained at the edges of her mind. But she would quickly find that he would take up permanent residence there very soon.

Inside his quarters, Bob had a sneaking suspicion that he was being watched, but he refused to acknowledge it. Refused to look at the beautiful woman whose storm-gray eyes he could not get off his mind. Instead of letting his mind wander, he stepped over to his bed and retrieved his beloved Bible. 

Get thee behind me, Satan.

He read a passage of Proverbs as he got ready for the day, quoting each verse out loud. Then, as he stood in the middle of the room, fully clothed, hair combed, he breathed a prayer to the Almighty, and then, he stepped back outside, ready to join the world.

He checked the time on the pocket watch he always kept on his person. One that had belonged to his grandfather. Six fifty-nine on the dot. Once he made it to the main house, he would be right on time for breakfast. 

He hummed the tune of Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing as he walked. It was one of his favorite hymns, one which he planned to sing with the congregation of Backforty Church when he met with them for the first time on Sunday morning.

Inside the house, Fairlight was just finishing breakfast preparations for the morning, and she couldn’t help but take pause when she heard the sound of melodic humming carrying in through the open window. 

Moments later, a knock could be heard at the door. “It’s open!” She called out as she set a basket of homemade bread down on the table.

Reverend Floyd stepped into the house, offering her a kind smile. “Mornin’, Miss Mackall,” he greeted her.

She mirrored his smile. “It’s Fairlight, remember?”

He nodded, eyes twinkling with something she couldn’t quite place. Before another word could be exchanged between the pair, the screen door squeaked open again, and in walked Mont. Fairlight faded into the background as her father walked into the room, his boots scraping against the unfinished wooden flooring. 

“Reverend,” he greeted Bob, reaching out to shake his hand.

Bob nodded. “Morning.”

The older man motioned toward the table, and Bob moved to step toward an open chair, allowing Fairlight to take a seat first before he sat down. Then, he caught Mont looking at him expectantly. “Mind sayin’ grace?”

Bob bowed his head and evenly spoke, “Bless us, Oh Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” both Mont and his daughter echoed.

Breakfast was served, and Bob couldn’t help but feel a bit like he was intruding. This was their home, after all. And he was but a stranger in it. But Mont soon pulled him into a conversation, and he didn’t have a chance to dwell on it much longer. 

“So, Reverend. Now that you’re settled ‘n all, I wanted to ask ya. Most of my livelihood comes from the woodworking I do. Haven’t had time to get any orders done because I’ve been so busy running the church. Now that you’re here, I was wondering. You any good with carpentry?”

Bob got the sense as to where this was going. “I’ve worked in carpentry, yes. Why?”

“Would you be obliged to help with some of the projects? When you aren’t busy ministering and studying sermons, and all.”

Bob could see a weariness in the man’s eyes, manifesting itself in the deepening lines on his face. He couldn’t have been much older than fifty, but years of hard work and the stressors of life had aged him. The young preacher nodded, figuring Mont desperately needed the help. “I’d be happy to help. I wanna earn my keep, after all. Just let me know what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”

That seemed to satisfy the man, and the conversation shifted to other things. As they spoke, Bob couldn’t help but notice the way Fairlight remained quiet as a mouse, hardly contributing anything but a smile or nod here and there. He got the sense that she felt left out, so he made a move to include her.

“So, have you lived in Backforty Gap your entire life, Fairlight?” He asked, voice gentle.

Her eyes flickered to his, and she found him looking at her with such kindness and interest that it took her breath away. She only person who was ever that interested in what she had to say was her best friend, Zinnia Allen.

But just as the pale-haired girl opened her mouth to speak, her father interjected. “She was born and raised here,” he said. 

Bob tried to hide the frown that creased his brow. Before he could attempt to redirect the conversation to her, so she could answer for herself, Mont continued. 

“She was born in this very house, actually.” The man’s face grew serious, and he leaned over the table, elbows resting against the wood. “Her momma died givin’ birth to her, so it’s just been me and Fairlight all these years.”

Bob jumped slightly at the sudden sound of metal clattering loudly against a plate. When he glanced at Fairlight, her gray eyes had gone dark as an approaching summer storm. She was looking directly at her father, fury clear on her features, but she said nothing. Instead, she pushed her chair away from the table and rushed out of the room, the screen door slamming behind her.

Montgomery sighed, shaking his head. “It’s a sore subject for her. We don’t talk about it much.”

But the preacher got the sense that there was much more than met the eye. He let his eyes settle on Mont, regarding him silently. He was lying about something, that much was certain. But it wasn’t Bob’s business to stick his nose into. So he simply left it as it was, and let Mont change the subject.

During the rest of breakfast, they spoke of the church, and Mont warned him that the congregation might be difficult to minister to. But the entire time, Bob’s mind drifted to the girl that had stormed out of the house, and he wondered why she’d done so. The venom in her eyes had not been something he’d been expecting from someone as kind as her.

When breakfast was finally over, he eagerly stood, making his way back out into the sun-warmed morning. When he stepped onto the porch, he was surprised to find Fairlight sitting on an old, wooden rocking chair that stood in the corner of the porch.

He hesitated, unsure if he should say anything. Finally, he settled on, “are you alright?”

She managed a smile despite herself. “I’ll be fine,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively. 

Bob opened his mouth again, wanting to say more. But what could he say? He took a tentative step forward, hoping to offer comforting words from the Good Book. However, he was barely able to take the breath needed to utter those words before a desperate shout ripped across the property.

His head whipped in the direction of the sound, and beside him, Fairlight quickly rose from her seat. A young boy was sprinting up the Mackall property, waving his arms and screaming at the top of his lungs. 

“That’s Will Allen,” Fairlight gasped. She hurriedly pushed past Bob, shouting for her father as she went. “Daddy! Something’s wrong!” 

She was already scrambling down the porch steps, and Bob followed at her heels, unsure of what was taking place, but willing to help in any way. Fairlight ran like the wind, hair flying behind her as she caught up to the boy.

The young one, who couldn’t have been more than eight years old, threw himself into her arms, wailing uncontrollably, hyperventilating as he fought to catch his breath. Fairlight stepped back, holding him at arm’s length.

She bent forward so she was at eye level with the boy. “Will, I’m right here, honey. Slow deep breaths, in and out. Come on, just like that.”

Bob watched as she miraculously settled the boy down enough to speak coherent words. His heaving gasps calmed, and his sobs slowed. Her gentle hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs wiping at his tear tracks.

“What happened?” She asked.

“My daddy! He’s hurt real bad! Gun went off an’ he’s bleedin’!”

At that moment, Mont caught up to them. His daughter whirled around to face him. “Jed’s been shot,” was all she had to say. 

He nodded firmly. “Get to the truck.” 

Fairlight grabbed Will’s hand, motioning for Bob to follow as she ran after her father to the rickety pickup sitting in the front yard. The reverend was reeling, his body buzzing with a sudden rush of adrenaline. Before he even realized what was happening, he was seated in the bed of the truck beside Fairlight, while young Will sat up front with Mont, describing to him where Jed was. 

“Jed is my best friend’s father,” Bob heard Fairlight speak beside him, her voice wavering.

“Did someone shoot him?” 

“I-it’s hard to say. Jed is a hunter, it could’ve just been an accident.” But, it also could have been intentional. She didn’t add that, however. She wouldn’t jump to conclusions until she knew what had happened. There were certain members of the community who were prone to violence, and she wouldn’t be surprised if one of them, namely Hawk Neiman, had been the one to shoot Jeb.

Russell “Hawk” Neiman was well known in Backforty Gap for being the best shot in the area. It was where he got the nickname Hawk. His eyes never missed a shot. He usually kept his gun use limited to hunting, but pair his alcoholic tendencies with a loaded gun, and there was no telling what he’d do.

But now was no time for pointing fingers. Jed needed help, and he needed it now. The nearest hospital was forty minutes out, and most of the people in the community didn’t trust hospitals as it was, so trying to get him there would be fighting a losing battle. It was best to get him to the doctor’s house instead.

The entire ride, all Fairlight could think about was Zinnia, Jed’s daughter. The two girls had been friends since they could remember. Although their friendship had dwindled as they grew into adulthood, and now with Zinnia engaged to be married, Fairlight still cared about her well-being, and she could only imagine how upset the girl would be about her father. Jed and Zinnia had a close bond. One that Fairlight had always envied.

Beside her, as the old truck rattled down the unkempt country roads, Robert Floyd’s own mind was spinning. He’d been in Backforty Gap all of one day, and he’d already been thrust into a life-or-death situation. What had he gotten himself into? And what more awaited him?

He had no time to dwell on it, for all too soon, the truck skidded to a halt. As Mont climbed out of the truck, Bob scrambled to jump out of the truck bed, turning without thinking to reach up and catch Fairlight, gently lowering her to the ground.

Young Will ran up ahead, and the trio followed, until they came to the riverbank, where Jed Allen lay at the water’s edge, the water around him tinged red from the blood that had soaked through his clothes.

“How’d this happen, boy?” Mont asked Will as he knelt beside Jed.

Will’s bottom lip quivered, his bright green eyes filling with tears. “I tripped on the…the gun. It went off and it hit him.” 

So it had been an accident. 

“It’s okay, honey. It was an accident,” Fairlight assured the boy, pulling him into her side. He immediately began to sob, burying his face against the fabric of her dress.

“Help me out, Preacher,” Mont spoke up, and Bob sprang into action, stepping forward to help Mont lift the man off the ground.

Grunting laboriously, both of them managed to carry the man back to the truck, lifting him into the bed with much effort. Once again, Mont jumped into the driver’s seat, with Will climbing into the truck bed this time, pressing himself against Fairlight as he cried, terrified of what would become of his father. 

The girl held him tightly, soothing his cries as she watched Bob, who desperately pressed his hands against the man’s wound, trying to slow the bleeding. The shot had hit him in the lower abdomen, and there was no telling how deep it was. 

Pale blue met stormy gray, and the pair held each other’s gaze. Bob’s full of uncertainty, and Fairlight’s full of fear. What would become of this man? Bob spoke a silent prayer to the Lord that he would pull through, if only for the sake of the young boy weeping across from him.

Suddenly, the truck jerked to a halt. Bob looked up

to find that they’d stopped outside a modestly sized cabin, nestled in a grove of trees. Mont jumped out of the truck, boots crunching against gravel as he ran around to open the bed. 

Wordlessly, Bob helped him drag Jed out, and he followed the older man’s lead as he moved toward the cabin. 

“Doc!” Mont shouted. “Doc, we need help!”

Moments later, the door swung open and out stepped an older, blonde-haired man. Doctor Quinton McHone, to be exact. When he saw what was taking place, he sprung into action without a moment of hesitation. 

“Talk to me, Mont!” He instructed as he reached the men. 

“Gun went off, shot him in the belly,” Mont grunted. 

“Alright, get ‘im inside and up on the table.”

Bob followed the two men’s lead, managing to get Jed into the cabin. There was a large, empty table in the middle of the room, and they heaved him up onto the surface. 

Bob stumbled back, gasping heavily for breath, realizing just how exerted he was from the ordeal. His chest heaved beneath the cotton of his shirt, and he reached up, running the back of his hand over his damp brow. 

“Livy and the kids know about this?” Doc McHone asked, already moving to roll his shirt sleeves up his brawny arms. 

“Will knows, he’s the one who came and got us. I’ll take the truck over and pick up Livy and the rest of ‘em,” Mont quickly responded, already clambering toward the door. 

Bob watched him leave, and just outside the door, he noticed Fairlight, who kept Will on the porch, soothing him gently as he sniffled and cried. But the reverend was soon interrupted by the gruff voice of Quinton McHone.

“You the new preacher?” He asked.

Bob met his sharp gaze. “I am.”

“Your God still perform miracles?”

The young man nodded. “He is.”

“Good, ‘cause this man’s gonna need one.” Then, he motioned Bob closer as he moved to unbutton Jed’s shirt. “Help me with him.”

Bob sprang forward to assist with whatever the doctor needed. He could scarcely believe that this was actually happening before his very eyes. His hands shook with a tremor he could not control, and he fought to remain calm. In the city, this would be an easy fix. But out here, in this seemingly Godforsaken cove? This was life or death. If the doctor didn’t act fast, Jed Allen would die.

Before his mind had a chance to spiral, the sound of Mont’s truck approaching caught his attention, and moments later, the sound of rushed footsteps. A woman burst into the cabin, dark hair wild around her head. When her gaze fell upon the man sprawled out on the table, a sob ripped from her throat, and she rushed to his side.

“Jed! Oh, Jed!” She wailed. 

“I’m going to do everythin’ I can, Livy,” Quinton assured her, stepping around the table to gently pull her away from her husband.

The frightened faces of four other children, and a young woman, remained in the doorway. The youngest child couldn’t have been much older than five. The young woman stepped into the cabin, her eyes hard set on the doctor.

“You can save him, right? Please tell me you can,” she said, as she reached out and guided her mother out of the man’s arms. 

“Like I told your momma, I’m gonna do what I can. I need you to keep her calm, and keep her out of the way so I can work. Can you do that f’ me, Zinnia?”

She nodded, holding her mother close as the woman sobbed. “I can. But you better save him. We…we can’t get on without him.”

In an instant, Livy Allen pulled away from her daughter, suddenly realizing the presence of a stranger in the room. She pointed her finger at the reverend, her hazel eyes wide with a wildness he’d only seen in the eyes of a caged animal.

“You. Yo-you’re him, ain’t you? The preacher?!”

Bob took a cautious step toward her, reaching a hand out, prepared to offer her comfort. She grabbed his arm in a death grip, her nails digging into his skin, even through the fabric of his shirt. “Say a prayer for him. You have to! I can’t lose my husband! I already lost my boy to the war! I can’t lose Jed, too!”

“Momma, let go,” Zinnia gently coaxed, trying to pry her away from the reverend. But Bob held his free hand up, signaling for her to wait, before he placed that same hand over Livy’s. He looked into the woman’s eyes, and at that moment, he fully realized the weight of responsibility that sat upon his shoulders.

What he said and did in these next few moments would shape the way these people saw him. It could either make or break his chance to have an impact on this community. He needed to garner the people’s trust if he was going to be any good to them at all.

He took a deep breath, nodding his head. “I will, dear sister. I will.”

Then he pulled the woman into his chest, holding her close, and he bowed his head. He prayed over her, asking the Almighty to bring her husband out of the valley of the shadow of death, to guide the doctor’s hands as he worked, and to give peace to her and her children.

When he breathed Amen, Livy had calmed considerably, and she pulled back to look up at the young preacher. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

The spell was broken by Doctor McHone, who began barking orders as he prepared to tend to Jed. “If you can’t be of any help, clear the room!” He called. Then, he pointed a thick finger toward Bob and Mont. “You two, I need you both to hold him down.”

Bob hesitated, realizing that this was actually happening. It wasn’t an action scene from a film, or a tense chapter from a book. This was happening in real-time, and he had a decision to make. 

His legs were moving before he even realized they were. He took his position at the top of the table, near Jed’s head, while Mont held onto his legs. 

Bob watched the doctor intently, gaze following his every move. Everything else faded into the background. Jeb’s crying wife. His whimpering children. 

Quinton set to work immediately, and as he prepared the area to extract the bullet, an all too familiar sensation came to life in Bob’s shoulder. An uncomfortable burning, a bone-deep ache. A pain he had not felt in a long time. 

His mind drifted back to a time of his life that he’d tried so hard to forget. A moment in which his own foolishness had resulted in a bullet to the shoulder. A bullet that had been meant for his chest. Meant to take his life.

A strange sensation came over him then. A tightening in his chest. A residual tingle in his outer extremities. And as Doctor McHone began the process of extracting the bullet, and as Bob held down a thrashing, groaning man, he thought he was going to pass out. 

Not from the sight of blood, nor from the intensity of the situation. But from a memory that he’d tried to keep buried in the depths of his mind. 

He almost allowed himself to succumb to it, but managed to pull himself back into the moment. He’d be of no help if he was passed out cold on the floor. And it certainly wouldn’t do to have the reverend fainting during a moment when he was meant to be a pillar of strength and hope. 

Much to his relief, Bob remained steady while the doctor worked, and the very second the procedure was finished, he stumbled back, not even waiting to hear the verdict of whether or not Jed would be okay. Instead, he turned to rush out of the cabin for a breath of much needed fresh air. 

He made it out to the porch, taking in ragged lungfuls of mountain air as he went. His hands rested upon the porch banister. His eyes remained closed. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t cut out for this. Coming here was a mistake. 

Stop. Take a deep breath. Don’t let yourself panic. One breath in. Hold. One breath out. One breath in. Hold. One breath out. 

He repeated this a few times, until he finally allowed himself to open his eyes and come back to the present. As he did so, he heard the sound of voices beside him. Or, namely, a singular voice, clear and sweet. 

He turned, only to find Fairlight seated on the floor of the porch, surrounded by Jed’s children. As Bob began to calm down, he watched her comfort each and every one of those children. One arm was wrapped around young Will. The other around Zinnia, the eldest. The rest of the children were huddled close, listening as she softly sang a mountain melody to them, providing a welcome distraction from the sounds of distress and pain their father made. 

“The cuckoo, she’s pretty,

She sings as she flies;

She bringeth good tidings,

She telleth no lies.

She sucketh white flowers

For to keep her voice clear.

And although she sings ‘cuckoo’, 

The summer draws near…”

Bob stood there on that porch, in the middle of Appalachia, surrounded by trees and mountains and unfamiliar terrain, and he watched this young woman, who he’d only just met, calm an entire group of frightened children with just her voice. 

He marveled at such a thing. But he also found that it had calmed him, too. His spiraling thoughts had been reduced to a quiet hum in his mind. That tightness in his chest was gone. The burning in his shoulder had ceased. 

A moment of peace in an otherwise grim and uncertain situation. A sign from the Almighty  that life wasn’t all bad. There was beauty to be found even in the ugliest of moments. 

And somehow, he knew, as he gazed upon the flaxen-haired girl, that it was all going to be okay. He was cut out for this job. No matter how difficult or gruesome it was. He’d been placed here for a purpose. And he was going to fulfill that purpose. 

Reverend Floyd had been called to care for the people of Backforty Gap. And that was exactly what he was going to do.

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[probsnothawkeye]

Today is a very important and also very emotionally heavy day for me

Today marks 5 years since I decided to keep living.

I spent pretty much all of my teens thinking I wouldn't make it out of them. There's still part of me to this day that can't believe I made it out. But I did. I'm still here, still choosing to keep going and keep living. And it's hard sometimes, im actively in the midst of a depressive episode right now and gods it can be hard. But every day I wake up and decide to keep living. For the past 5 years I've been doing that and for the first time in my life, I'm picturing what my future looks like in a way that feels real. My future is a tangible thing now, not just some dream that I won't be able to fulfill. My life is my own and I'm actively choosing to live it and it's been *five years* since I made that choice.

In those five years, I've made friends who actually care about me. I've realized I'm nonbinary and changed my name. I've written 2 podcasts and have gotten to work with so many lovely people. I've learned and grown and lived more than I ever thought I would have. When I was 13, I thought I'd be dead by 16. When I made it to 16, I though 18 would be my curtain call. At 18, I gave myself a year and thought I would fade out of existence, never being meant to get past that. At 19, I made the choice to keep living. I got a tattoo over scars that I gave myself and closed that chapter of my life. I stared down the blank pages of my life that I never thought would be filled and said "I'm going to write my own story here" and I did. I'm still here. I'm still standing.

I got a tattoo this week with a quote from The Grotto that spoke to this theme of healing for me. "I can't wait until I stop comparing milestones to minutes." I spent all of my teens living milestone to milestone, thinking that each one I passed would be the last one I had. This quote actually has a partner though, and it's one that reflects where I am now. "I can't believe I've stopped comparing milestones to minutes and swapped them with years." At some point, I stopped living milestone to milestone and started living year to year. 5 years have passed. 5 years I never once thought I'd have and yet they passed by almost without me realizing.

I'm happy I'm still here. I'm proud of myself for staying here. It's hard sometimes, but each day I'm still actively choosing life. I'm choosing to be here with my family and my friends. Here with the wonderful collaborators I've worked with. Here with the people I may never meet in real life who have made my life so much brighter.

Once upon a time, all I wanted was for it all to end. Now, I want to see what I can do with my life. My life that's mine because I chose to keep going. And gods I'm happy I'm here 💜

[ruinedbylanadelrey]

Loved your Javier Peña fic! Could you write one where the two are in a secret relationship (because relationships in the DEA can be risky). One day when they are out on an assignment Javi almost gets killed but Reader saves him. Javi gets mad at her for throwing herself in harms way. They eventually make up and Javi thanks Reader for saving her.

Secret relationships<3333

warnings: 18+, violence, usage of guns, javi having a small masculinity complex

masterlist

Javier Peña was the first person you had a connection with in years. You weren't looking for a relationship when the DEA shipped you off to Colombia as a rookie. Your mentor was to be Javier Peña and he showed you how things worked in the world of Colombia, how corrupted everything was.

It left you feeling uneasy every day and would fear going out on the streets knowing there is a price tag on your forehead. "No one is stupid enough to kill an agent," Javi told you on your first day on the job, you were out in the field chasing around some sicarios. 

Working so closely with someone for almost your whole day had you telling Javi about your life back in the States. He loved that you were also from Texas, you missed your hometown and expressed that to him one night. You would close your eyes when you were back at your apartment and imagine you were in your bed back in San Antonio, listening to the cars pass on the street with the faint sound of crickets in the grass.

"Wanna go to the bar, I could use a drink and I think you could too," Javi asks as you gathered your things before leaving the office for the couple of hours you'll have to yourself. You were stunned by his question, you always thought he merely tolerated you.

"Sounds better than sitting in my apartment drinking alone," your answer had Javi moving you both out to the jeep fast. 

The live music was playing and the drinks you had were running through your veins. You seemed so relaxed and it was a good look on you. Javi admired how you weren't ruined yet but the career you chose.

You asked him for a dance, he couldn't turn a dance with a pretty woman. You captivated his mind since the day he met you, it was hard to let you do any work when he just wanted to keep you safe and out of harm's way.

You rested your head on his chest while he led you in the dance, just swaying in time with the music.

"Do you want to get out here?" you looked up at him, that question led to many nights spent in bed with him, and soon blossomed into becoming partners outside of work. You and him kept everything under wraps, relationships were dangerous and frowned upon in the field. 

The sky was black and the stars sprinkled across it, you admired the beauty of the nights since you and Javi had those late shifts a lot more since you came. Javi was smoking his cigarette outside the jeep.

"I think you should quit," you poked your head out the window and smiled at him. It was your favorite thing to say to him, you liked how aggravated he got by it because you were right. He looked back at you and flicked it to the ground, grabbing the pack from the seat and lighting another one. You rolled your eyes at him and sat back in your seat. 

The night was quiet, too quiet for you. Two cars pull behind you and caged in your only way out,

"Get down!" Javi yells at you, he grabs his pistol at the same moment you did. A man from each car got out and held their weapons up and pointed at him. You could see him calculate how he was going to get you both out of there.

You watched in the mirror of the car as the two men stalked toward Javi. They were passed the car unknowing of your existence, your palms were sweaty and the weight of your gun felt heavier than usual. You've been in danger before but it was never at arms length. 

Javi was keeping a cool demeanor with them, his finger next to the trigger ready for anything they might do. His eyes flickered at you for a second and returned to them. You knew you had to do something fast or he would be killed. One man pushed Javi to the ground and stood over him, you moved faster than you could think of a plan.

You crawled out the open window and snuck up on the other man, the cold barrel of your gun pressed the back of the man's head. Your finger lingered on the trigger. Javi looked at you and he saw red while the bang of the gun went off, the other man turned around and scrambled for his gun and another shot rang through Javi's ears. Two bodies littered the ground, you took a breath after holding it. 

You stood there frozen in place, and the realization of you had just killed two people hit you like a ton of bricks. Javi stands up, he takes your pistol from your hands and turns on the safety.

"Get in the car," he mutters before calling in the police to take care of the bodies.

The ride back to the station was quiet. You were still processing what happened, Javi was angry mostly at himself for putting you in the situation. It made him feel small and he hates feeling that way. He never really thought of himself as macho but when you started dating he took on that role to keep you safe.

When you walked to your desk and sat down Javi trailed in sitting himself on the corner of your desk and set down a drink for you.

"You were reckless and shouldn't have done that. You could've died out there," he scolded you, you stared blankly at him. The tears ran down your face.

"What was I supposed to do? Let you lay there and possibly die?" You spat at him, and you became angry with him.

You couldn't let that happen, he was a mentor, partner, and boyfriend.

"If I die, I die. You are to let me handle my life. How can you be so stupid throwing your life away for me?" his words stung, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if anything happened to him especially if you could've helped. You looked at him in disbelief because if the roles were switched he would've done the same thing and you wouldn't have scolded him a like child. 

Since that night he treated you like you were a ghost, just didn't exist in front of him until he had to acknowledge you. It was suffocating to be around him and be ignored, you wanted to leave and never go back. Javi put you on probation and left you to do clerical work while he went on raids and rides.

He watched you pack up your things for the night, your face seemed drained, the dark circles under your eyes has gotten worse since you haven't slept next to him in weeks, and you would stay up most nights scared of the world outside your window. You barely ate, being nauseated every day from your heart breaking. 

Javi walked up to you before you walked out the door, he tugs at your hand and spins you around. His lips crash into yours, you were taken back by his actions. You gave in and your lips moved with his. He breaks the kiss and cups your face in his hands, his eyes dart around taking your feature that he studied when you were in his bed at night.

"I'm sorry...I was angry at myself...not at you, I hate feeling helpless and that you had to something that you shouldn't had to do, forgive me, cariño," you could tell Javi was uneasy with being vulnerable. Your heart swelled when he licked his lips wanting for this fight to over with.

"I forgive you, mi amor, I need you to know that your life matters to me," you said sweetly and he took a deep breath to let his walls come down for you. 

[mysticstarlightduck]

OC Interaction Tag

I was tagged by @willtheweaver (here) and @illarian-rambling (here)! Thank you so much for the tag!

Rules: describe an OC and pair how they would interact with the given OCs from the people who tagged you!

Imma do this in two parts, so I'll go with Nimwen from Of Starlight and Beasts for Part 1 because I feel like I don't talk about that girl enough! Then I'll go with my boy Renn from the unnamed standalone fairytale WIP that plopped its way into my brain this weekend and hasn't let go since, for Part 2!

Part 1

Will's OC: Fen is a crow. But he does not act like one, having grown up among the foxes of the forest. All his life, he has had to keep his identity a secret. For obvious reasons, Fen does not let too much of himself be known. What he does show is an understanding nature ,and a knack for bringing out the best in others. Storyteller, a good fighter, tracker, and cook, he is skilled in many arts, though you’d never know that from the way he stays humble and modest. He values friendship, and will support those he trust.

My OC: Nimwen is an 18 year old girl who has spent most of her life (since she was 8) travelling through the uncharted forests of a region popularly called "the wilds", with her adoptive brother Scarlet and their little band of misfits. They live on the outskirts of society, since their kingdom has been so dilligently outcasting them, but they don't seem to mind it. All in all, Nimwen is an awkward, overly anxious, often paranoid but incredibly sweet girl, though she rarely lets strangers get too close to her. She embodies the energy of a skittish deer that will bolt at the nearest sign of danger, even if its a false alarm, though she has very good reasons to be that way - her father was wrongfully executed for treason, and the people of the kingdom didn't exactly give her much reason to trust them after what they did, so yeah. She's very in touch with nature and other people's feelings though she somehow seems very much oblivious to her own. She prefers to avoid confrontation, and will only fight if that's the absolute last resort in a life or death situation. She loves very deeply and makes strong bonds once you get to know her properly.

How they'd interact: I think Nimwen wouldn't be that surprised to meet a sentient, possibly talking, crow - she lives in a world where that kind of magic is actually rather common. So, once they'd met, I think those two would get along pretty well and would likely become good friends. She'd probably be very excited to learn about the new places this bird has seen and flown to, and they'd have a lot in common to talk about when it comes to forests and such. She'd likely listen to his stories for hours on end, never losing interest. The only tricky part would be convincing her brother that Fen is not a spy sent by the King to get them both killed, but once that's out of the way, I'd say conversations would be pretty interesting. Nim's an expert secret keeper, so I firmly believe keeping Fen's identity hidden will not be difficult for her.

Part 2

Illarian's OC: Twenari is an adolescent girl (12 in the first book, 16 in the second two) with short locs and a preference for skirts over pants. She is a prodigy sorcerer and general gifted kid. Throughout her childhood, her smuggler mother used her as a source of magical security and intimidation, which eventually caused her to run away after being forced to commit one too many unsavory acts. Because of this, Twenari acts much older than she is. She's pragmatic, blunt, and strategic. However, in other ways, she's very behind the learning curve. She's painfully introverted and never learned to socialize beyond formal events. Magic is her darling and purpose. She's insatiably curious about everything, but mostly, she wants to understand all the world has to offer in the field of the arcane. She's also at a kill count of about six. That's what happens when you're constantly chased by mercenaries and have the ability to explode people with your brain

My OC: Renn is a young man in his late teens (his exact age hasn't been specified yet, but he's suspected to be around 16-19) with a penchant for dark humor and a love for all that's mysterious and slightly macabre. He has a very strong vibe that is reminiscent of those early 2000s goth/emo kids, minus the angst - just the aesthetics and the sometimes deeply philosophical existential crisis - despite his fantasy medieval setting. He is a rule breaker and likes to question authorities at every chance he gets, and is also very savvy about the true inner workings of their seemingly perfect kingdom. It is implied that he has some kind of secret he is keeping hidden at all costs, and that implication would be true, but its not what most people would assume. While the townsfolk mostly label him as this unhinged/"crazy" reject who is always causing trouble and is up to no good, he is actually a really sweet kid that just had some truly fucked up stuff happen in his past. He is a loyal friend and values honesty and integrity above all else, even if it means he'll have to go down fighting for what he believes in. Despite all of this intensity, he just wants someone to truly understand him and have a pure friendship towards him. He is also implied to be gifted in some kind of magic, though it isn't specified which, and that he has knowlege of "forbidden arts".

How I think they'd interact: I believe Renn would see Twenari as a little sister figure of sorts, mostly because she is a few years younger than him (especially in her first book) but also because he probably sees a lot of his younger self in her - the painful introversion, the passion and drive for knowledge, the wish to cut free from the past. I think that given their personalities and pasts they'd probably get along quite well, especially when it comes to their insatiable curiosity for the arcane, as well as their wish to understand a world that is just so confusing to them as it is. They'd probably disagree a bit when it comes to rules though - as you mentioned she's pragmatic, and I know Renn's a certified rule breaker - but they would probably find a way to work around that. They're also kids who are very smart and who are way too mature for their own age due to having to grow up too fast, so I can see them relating to eachother in that way too.

Tagging: @memento-morri-writes, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @mk-writes-stuff, @littleladymab, @little-peril-stories, @oh-no-another-idea, @autumnalwalker, @eccaiia, @winterandwords, @rickie-the-storyteller, @forthesanityofstorytellers, @the-ellia-west, @cowboybrunch, @ybotter and OPEN TAG

[stillbeatingheart]

Face of the Moon excerpt Chapter 9: Name

My mother named me Tilde because she liked the way it felt in her mouth, she liked the way her tongue and lips moved around the consonants.  In mathematics it means negation.  In English it’s most often used in place of about, it’s an approximation.  And in some languages it’s used to note a change of pronunciation.  

Truth is, she was probably high when she was filling out the papers.  And in the years since, she probably felt some need to explain it when people asked, when people wanted to know why she named her kid the title of a squiggly line.  

Amory’s not a word either, but at least it’s unfamiliar enough that most people think it’s just some creative forward-thinking name, some play on amour or something clever.  It’s not clever, it’s a town in Alabama that Mom passed through once in the passenger seat of an 18-wheeler while she was hitchhiking across the country.  Yes, hitchhiking.  How times have changed.  In not so many years.  Maybe we just think times have changed because it’s not romanticized anymore, it’s something for bums and junkies, not for hippies and broke travelers.  Now that the gap year has a name and only rich kids get to do it, it’s not about finding yourself.  It’s about losing yourself, or getting lost in the process of becoming an adult.  

Mom got lost.  And no amazing grace was about to save her.  Peyote either.

I never really thought about my name.  Only when kids teased me about it being a girl’s name but that didn’t last long when they realized I wore girls clothing too, and owned it.  I’d never be one of those kids that apologized with my stance or by trying to blend in, I always knew who I was and what I liked and it didn’t matter to me if others didn’t get it.  It wasn’t up to them to understand.  It never will be.

People say they just want to be understood.  They just want to be around people who get them.  Maybe that’s how it was with Jacy.  We spent our separate childhoods orbiting the same monsters with different faces, we knew without having to speak any of it.  Maybe that’s what it means to be understood.  To have the silence and know what it means.

Could I live without it?  Yeah.  Of course.  I’d lived without it before him and I’d live without it after him.  The problem is that once you have something for the first time, a part of you awakens.  Turns out, that part is hard to kill once it’s come to life.

Ebook available on B&N

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

whimsicallyenchantedrose

Season 2 Rewatch Drabbles--2x21-2x22 Second Star to the Right ... And Straight on Til Morning

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my    rewatch of season 2 of Once Upon a Time as an attempt to finally jump    start the muse again.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a    “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.  Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on the very beginnings of Captain Swan’s epic love story, as soon as a certain dashing pirate makes his appearance.  

Word Count: 766 (why did I think I could stick to a word count again?)

@jrob64​  @anmylica​   @booksteaandtoomuchtv

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (17.5) (18) (19) (20) (22)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hook stood at the wheel of the Jolly Roger looking out at the horizon as he sailed determinedly out of Storybrooke.

They’d all gone mad.  All of them, even Swan.  What manner of fools these heroes were.  Willing to risk all of their lives–the lives of everyone in the town–for the miniscule chance of saving the Evil Queen, of all people.

The Evil Queen whom they should rightly want to see dead for her part in trapping her in this strange little town in the first place.

He’d returned to town with Greg and Tamara, seduced by their vow to help him kill his Crocodile once and for all, but it had been the work of mere moments to realize the pair were blithering idiots, mindless zealots for a cause they didn’t understand at the behest of a master they didn’t even know.

When they’d revealed the full extent of their plan to him–destroying the town and everyone not born in this land, he’d realized he’d been an utter fool to throw in his lot with them.  Aye, their plan would kill the Dark One, but it would also kill everyone else in this town, including him.

Including Swan.  How she’d so thoroughly gotten under his skin, even after she’d betrayed him–twice: once on the beanstalk and then again when she locked him in a broom closet in New York–he didn’t know.  All he knew for sure was that she’d been right.

The two of them understood each other.  There was some manner of tether connecting her to him, one that he hardly had time to ponder with the end of the word staring him in the face.

For a split second he’d actually considered staying the course, letting the failsafe do its job and ridding the world of the Dark One forever.

But then he’d remembered the conversation he’d had with Regina in the mines. Do you ever think this constant pursuit of revenge is the reason we have no one to care for us?

He’d spent centuries hunting his Crocodile, willing to do all manner of dastardly deeds in the furtherance of that goal, but this … this was a step too far.  Hook had never minded committing villainous acts to those who deserved it, those who got in his way, but Greg and Tamara proposed massacring an entire town of innocents.

It was the height of bad form.

And so he’d turned to the heroes, and for a moment he’d thought they’d found a solution to their problems–until Queen Snow had convinced the rest to go along with her hare-brained scheme of tossing the failsafe into a portal.

He’d taken his leave then, ready to wash his hand of the entire town–heroes, villains, all of them.  The only one he could depend on was himself.

As he continued to sail, he looked down at the sparkly magic bean in his hand, and his eye caught the letters he’d carved into the helm on that day so many years ago.

Bae.

He’d let the boy down, serving him up to Pan on a silver platter, as it were.  Of all of his deeds, that was perhaps the one of which he was the most ashamed.  He’d chosen himself over the boy, over his Milah’s son.

And now he was doing the same to Bae’s lad.

Hook closed his eyes as the pain washed over him.  He didn’t want to be that man any more.  He’d made the selfish choice centuries ago, but he needn’t repeat that error.  He blew out a long breath and then pocketed the bean, slowly turning the wheel to head back into port.

This plan was still reckless.  It was still stupid. 

But it was the right thing to do.  He might well perish in a matter of hours, but at least he would die doing the right thing.

He would die a hero.

Notes:  Sorry for the delay!  I got caught up writing birthday fics, and this rewatch drabbles series fell a bit to the wayside.

–As you can see from the title, this particular chapter kind of encompasses both 2x21 and 2x22.  The truth is, there wasn’t much in 2x21 that inspired me, aside from themes I’ve already explored earlier in the series.  In contrast, I really, really wanted to explore things from both Hook’s and Emma’s perspectives in the events of 2x22, so I decided this was the best option.  Combining 2x21 and 2x22 and writing a chapter from each character.  Emma’s reflection should be up (assuming the muse cooperates) tomorrow, and then it’s on to Neverland!

NEXT CHAPTER-->

[jtargaryen18]

Barber & Weiss ~ Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

Words: 4.7K

Pairing: Dark Andy Barber x Dark Mike Weiss x Reader

Warnings: Expletive use. References to drug dealing, drug use, and embezzlement. Dubious consent, mild coercion, sexual blackmail, contract for sex as repayment, theft. Explicit sexual content to include face-sitting and double penetration.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: You run the office at Barber & Weiss and love your job and employers. When your drug-dealing boyfriend gets in trouble with a loan shark, you’re hesitant to embezzle money from the law firm to bail him out. But he promises you he’ll be able to return the money quickly, before someone notices it’s gone. What’s going to happen to you when your boyfriend is arrested and your bosses know about your theft?

~~~*~~~*~~~

The day your firm won the Fields’ case was cause for celebration.

The three of you had spent many nights at Andy’s house working long hours on that case, going over endless possibilities and theories. Mike could unearth anything anyone tried to keep hidden with uncanny precision. Last week he had brought a huge dry-erase board over to Andy’s house, marking it up with your combined ideas.

Andy didn’t seem to mind that. He got into it. Did it bother him Mike ended up shirtless in those suspenders he loved so much?

It did. Oh, you could tell. Eventually, it was time for each evening to end. You stayed there with Andy, and neither you nor Mike missed the smirk he wore as he watched his partner leave each night.

Yeah, there was some underlying tension there as the weeks passed.

As the court dates approached, the three of you spent a lot of time together working on that vital case there in Andy’s home. The evening usually ended the same way. The three of you in the guest room. In the living room. In the kitchen. One night they laid you out on Andy’s dining room table like a buffet, tormented and fucked you until you were dozing. You slept through someone carrying you to bed, slept through to the next morning.

It was a tired you’d grown accustomed to. You yawned there at your desk, waiting for them to get back. You probably could have learned the verdict of the case on social media. But you couldn’t fool either of them. Especially, Andy. They’d know if your reaction to the verdict wasn’t genuine and you didn’t want to disappoint them.

Mike strutted into the office first that evening and you grinned. Andy followed him, barely holding back a smile and confirming your suspicions.

“You won?” you asked excitedly.

“We won,” Andy told you, grinning.

Running out from behind the desk, you gave each of them a hug. You had to keep it polite because there were others in the office. A couple of secretaries, various interns. It was the reason all three of you made an effort not to act any differently than you had before your private arrangement.

It was almost the end of the day. All of you who worked for the firm gathered as the two of them went over the verdict and the likely sentencing. They thanked you all for your efforts and told you all to go home early.

When you caught Andy’s eye, thinking to go back to your desk, he winked at you. “That goes for you too.”

Really?

You went back around your desk to get your things. Andy followed you.

“We’ll be right behind you,” he said low in your ear. Then he pressed a credit card into your hand. “Order takeout. Anything you want. We’re celebrating tonight.”

You smiled, nodded. “Thank you.”

You left with the others, getting in your car, and headed first for the store to get some things you were aware you needed. Your mind was on what would make a good dinner tonight. Winning the case was special.

In the last few weeks since your arrangement began, you were learning a lot about your bosses. Mike loved spicy food, lighter and healthier dishes. Then he indulged in expensive scotch. Andy favored decadent dishes, rich in flavor and heavier. His poison was good whiskey, particularly fine bourbon.

When it came to sex? You grinned to yourself as you thought about their individual preferences there.

Your younger boss was up for anything all the time. He enjoyed tormenting you with his mouth and hands until you were incoherent mess and then he’d fuck you. Mike loved pushing you to the edge until you were in tears, until you were so eager for the release he withheld from you that you’d beg him to let you come. And if you tried to get Andy to intercede for you, he’d get Andy to hold you down and torture you even more.

Andy was a little older and more romantic. It was important to him to set the mood. Even on crazy busy nights when you were all sorting through notes, trying to find a new angle on the case, it was the little things Andy did. He’d sit next to you on the couch, pull your feet into his lap to massage them and he was so good at that. When he knew you were tired from a long day at the office, or from their attentions the night before, he’d serve you dinner or run you a bath. Andy enjoyed sex as much as any man, but he appreciated intimacy. And he had the advantage of having you live in his home. No matter how the evening went, if Andy was there, you felt taken care of, safe.

More than once you felt grateful that it was a temporary arrangement and that feelings weren’t involved. How would a woman ever choose between the two gorgeous men?

As you got back into your car, some ideas came to you. You were so caught up in coming up with a celebratory dinner, that you weren’t as aware of your surroundings as you should have been.

There was a wonderful Spanish restaurant that Andy talked about, but you’d never been there. The staff were so friendly. All you’d had to do was drop Andy’s name and they helped you put together a dinner of sumptuous, exotic Catalan coast seafood. They’d even sold you white wine that they recommended with the meal. Oh, it cost a fortune but from what they told you it was light and flavorful which would make Mike happy. But it was upscale and from one of Andy’s favorite restaurants.

In short, you were pretty damn proud of yourself.

It wasn’t until you’d pulled up in the driveway with everything that you felt it. You felt like someone was watching you.

Before it could occur to you to be nervous about that, Andy pulled in behind you with Mike next to him in his Audi. They were talking away in there, no doubt still preening about the case. Everything else was forgotten as you climbed out of your car, running around to the other side to grab dinner.

Strong arms came around, grabbing the larger bags. Andy snuck a kiss before letting you get the rest.

“I love your idea for dinner,” he told you. That smile had your heart racing. You loved making Andy happy. Of the two of them, he was always harder to impress.

“I was hoping so,” you told them, smiling.

Mike led the way, opening the door and disabling the alarm system. The case was all they could talk about as you all headed for the kitchen, working together to get dinner unpacked and served up. Mike was quick to get into the wine, encouraging you to drink up as you helped get everything plated.

Over dinner, they told you how everything went leading up to the verdict. Both were pretty proud of themselves, and they deserved to be. You’d all been working on the case for months.

“With this we should be able to get bigger cases,” Mike mused as the three of you got seated at the dining room table. “This is next level.”

Andy cocked a brow at him. He was always the realist, but he was having a trouble keeping a smile from his lips at the thought. “Maybe so,” he said after a moment.

“We can take on other cases that matter,” Mike pointed out. “We’ve got a winning team.”

You had to agree with that. Each of them was good lawyers but together? They were a pretty formidable force in the courtroom.

You raised your glass to them. “The best team I’ve ever worked for.”

They cut each other a look and you quickly took a drink. You’d meant it. Or did they think you only said it because of the arrangement?

Andy shook his head. “You’re part of this team. You put in as many hours as we did on the Fields case. Not sure we could have pulled it off without you.”

You had to laugh. “I’m not a brilliant lawyer like the two of you. If I was able to help, I’ll take that.”

“You’re still important to us,” Mike told you, charming you with a grin.

By the time you’d finished eating, you were all a couple of glasses of wine in, which was plenty for you. Still, you gathered the dishes and tried to clean up. You’d just put your own plate in the sink when someone pressed into you from behind and carefully took it from your hands and placed it in the sink.

Heated kisses pressed into the side of your neck. Something else that was heated pressed into your lower back.

“Leave them,” Mike purred into your ear.

Andy had said you were all celebrating tonight. What did they have in mind for you?

When Mike ground himself into you, you shivered. All their attentions over the last few weeks had you conditioned to their touch. There were times in the office when one of them winked at you passing by your desk and you turned into a needy puddle in your chair.

What had you become?

Normally, this was the part where they took this to Andy’s guest room unless one or both of them were too impatient. But something felt different tonight, you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

Mike’s hands slid up your waist, sliding over your breasts as he continued to layer kisses down your neck. Your thighs clenched in anticipation, you just couldn’t help it.

When Mike scooped you up to carry bridal style, you licked your lips to watch Andy loosen his tie and pull it free from his shirt. He followed Mike who carried you back into the living room where Andy had built a nice fire in the fireplace. It was cooler this evening, the chill of fall in the air.

When Andy went to pull the drapes closed, you knew they meant to stay there. It wasn’t the first time. But the coffee table had been moved and a comforter had been put down in front of the fire.

Carefully lowering you onto it, you shivered at the warmth from the cheery blaze in front of you. From the hunger in two sets of blue eyes on you.

What were they up to?

“Hang on,” Mike told you, dashing out of the room.

Andy toed off his shoes and sat next to you on the comforter. His smile did things to your insides as he toyed with the strap of your dress shoes, careful in removing it. Then he removed the other, pressing a kiss to your knee as he did.

As his hands smoothed up your calves, fingertips just skimming under the hem of your skirt, Mike returned with the unopened bottle of wine in an ice-filled bucket. There were three fresh glasses in his hand.

“You’re trying to get me drunk,” you teased them. “Is that it?”

“No.” Andy crawled closer, a long arm reaching behind you to unzip your skirt. “Today was a good day for us. Tonight is all about you.”

Really?

Mike filled a glass for you, held it to your lips as Andy worked the skirt down your body. The wine was sweet on your tongue, almost as sweet as the grin Andy wore when he saw what was under your skirt.

And what wasn’t under there.

Hooking one long finger at the edge of your black stocking, he pulled it to snap back against your skin. The lace tops gripped your thighs, but there were no panties to hide the glistening flesh between them. You sucked in a breath at the excited look that earned you.

“The whole day?” Andy wondered aloud with a grin.

You nodded. “If we didn’t win the Fields case, I thought maybe it would cheer you up.”

And you were a little nervous about it because you’d never done anything like that in your entire life.

Mike joined the two of you on the comforter, encouraging you to finish your wine. Once you had, he took the glass from you with one hand as the other slid up your thigh and into your wet heat. You gasped as his fingers explored you, teasing circles around your clit.

“You’ve been thinking about celebrating too, huh?” Mike looked so pleased.

Leaning in, Mike claimed your lips in a heated kiss as Andy moved closer. Someone was unbuttoning your blouse as Andy’s lips teased your neck. The brush of whiskers and heated lips, the feel of Andy’s hands as he pulled off your blouse and bra pushed up the need you’d battled all day. Had your body weeping, clenching for them.

You’d never been that into sex until now. Before sex was good, depending on your partner, but it had been almost as transactional as your current situation. Sex helped you move things from a hook up to a relationship. Maybe one day you’d find someone that cared about you, wanted to spend their life with you. If the sex was good, all the better.

Now? Either of your lawyers could make you melt with a glance.

Two sets of hands skimmed over your body, and you shivered. When Mike’s lips blazed a trail down your jaw to your neck, Andy’s mouth claimed yours as a finger traced around one of your nipples. When it tightened into a hard little peak, he covered it with his mouth. As Mike chained kisses over your neck and shoulder, he slid a finger into your channel. And you tried to clench around that digit. It wasn’t enough.

You didn’t mean for the whine to escape your lips, but it did. Mike eased back from you with a knowing smirk. His fingers made quick work of the buttons of his dress shirt, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him as he stripped it off. While Andy teased your breast, his fingers skimming the tender flesh at your inner thigh, Mike resumed teasing your pussy. When he slid two fingers inside you, teasing your walls, you were breathless and needy.

Mike stole a kiss. “Want to try something new tonight?” he whispered against your lips.

Andy paused at the question before stripping off his own shirt.

Mike’s fingers slid in and out of you in a way he knew would make you squirm. His lips were warm on yours.

“Use your words, beautiful,” he prompted you.

“What did you… want to try?” you managed to ask.

His large fingers pulled free of you, and you whined again. A single finger slid on the wetness between your lower lips, carefully, and slid back to your other entrance. You froze at the unfamiliar touch.

You didn’t miss the warning look Andy shot him. Wrapping his arms around you, he eased you back into his solid warmth. His lips were gentle on your shoulder. “Easy,” he whispered.

Mike was nothing if not tenacious. His finger lightly traced around that tight ring as he brushed more careful kisses over your lips.

“Never tried anything like that, huh?” he asked.

“No,” you whispered as his finger continued his campaign.

“Mike…” Andy started.

Pulling back to gaze into your eyes, Mike’s smile was gentle. “Want to try? If you really don’t like it, we’ll stop.”

Andy cut him another look.

“I’ll stop,” he corrected. “But if you relax, and trust me, this just might be amazing for all three of us.”

It was then when it occurred to you what he wanted. And Andy wasn’t interfering yet. You knew he absolutely would if he thought you were uncomfortable. It was the biggest reason that you nodded.

“Lay back, Andy,” Mike directed.

And Andy did, keeping his gaze on you. His gaze was caring, willing you to trust him.

“Okay, baby,” Mike purred in your ear. “Why don’t you sit on Andy’s face? Be a good girl for him while I go get something.”

Tipsy on lust and wine, you didn’t resist when they moved you over Andy. Embarrassment burned and gave way to desire as his strong hands wrapped around your thighs and situated you just where he wanted you. With his mouth, he started burning you down. The tip of his tongue traced around your clit until you were fighting his hold. He held you there to tease around your entrance, making you desperate for more in a short period of time.

You weren’t even aware that Mike had returned until you felt him behind you, the heat of his excitement drawing your attention to the way his hands skimmed over your back, feather light. While Andy took you apart with his mouth, started fucking you with that talented tongue, Mike had goose flesh rising down your back. Those hands smoothed over your hips, and ass. The delicacy of his touch combined with the wicked slide of Andy’s tongue to make you crazy. Your hands clawed at Andy’s thick hair, and you unwittingly moved your hips with him, wanting more of that.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the small white tube in Mike's hand. When Mike’s finger slid slowly between the globes of your ass, you shivered. Tingles of pleasure were already racing through your bloodstream from Andy’s efforts. That finger was slick, circling the untried ring of your ass with care. Mike kept that touch light, tempting.

Their attentions pushed you to the edge of release. You were a desperate thing straddling Andy’s face with Mike’s finger pushing carefully into your other opening. You felt good. You were so close…

Pressing up against you, Mike’s heat seeped into you. His lips teased your ear. “You gonna come on Andy’s tongue, beautiful?”

You gasped when he pulled the lobe of your ear between his lips. His finger pushed a little deeper into your ass.

“The sooner you come for us, the sooner you can ride his cock, baby,” Mike whispered. “I know you want him to fill that little pussy right now.”

Between those words and Andy’s teasing tongue, you came hard. Your cries had Andy moaning into the center of you, intensifying the waves that shook you to your core. While you rode out that euphoria, Mike worked a second finger into your ass. By the time you were aware of that slight stretch and burn, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It did remind you how empty your pussy felt.

Mike held you there and you felt Andy shifting beneath you. He was frantically undoing his slacks, pushing them down with his boxers. With Mike’s help, he eased you down his body until you felt the heated stalk of his cock against the wet flesh that craved it.

“Andy, please…” you begged. You wanted more and Mike’s teasing fingers were doing a lot to push your craving higher.

“I’ve got you,” Andy whispered with your juices shining off his lips and beard. His color was high as he positioned you over his cock, he and Mike guiding you to sink down on it. Andy stretched your walls, filled you up just the way you needed right now.

You were so full, rotating your hips to take all of Andy and reveling in how fucking wonderful he felt. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you to slowly start moving on him. Your movements didn’t dislodge Mike’s fingers. The fullness as he pressed a third finger into you, combined with Andy’s length, had your heart racing in excitement.

Like any woman, you’d thought about taking two men at once. You never thought you’d ever have the opportunity. But as you slid up and down on Andy’s cock and Mike’s fingers fucked your ass, you wanted more. You needed more.

When those fingers left you, you unapologetically whined. Andy took advantage of the moment to fuck up into you with firm quick strokes. You heard the sound of a zipper, felt Mike shifting behind you. When he moved behind you, pressing the head of himself at the opening of your ass you froze. Andy slowed down, his heated gaze meeting yours.

“Anything hurts,” he said in a breathy voice, “or you don’t like it, tell me. We’ll stop.”

You were struggling to breathe as Mike pushed past that tight ring. It stung.

“Tell me you understand,” Andy said gently.

You winced, as Mike’s slick cock pushed in a little further. But you nodded.

You clenched around Andy as Mike worked his way into you. It was uncomfortable at first and your hands clutched Andy’s shoulders tightly.

“Look at me,” Andy bid you. “Breathe, okay? Breathe. Try to relax.”

You did and once Mike was fully seated in you, the sting eased. When Mike began to move, he slid easily enough with the help of the lubricant. Andy watched you but didn’t move, allowing you to adjust.

“Oh, fuck,” Mike muttered behind you. “Your ass feels incredible, baby.”

It was feeling a lot better and after a couple of moments, you were moving with him. At that, Andy started moving in you again and the feeling of being impaled on both of them was unreal. The thought of what you were doing made you a slave to whatever they wanted. Two sets of hands gripped your ass. Two cocks worked into you, hitting every pleasure point you possessed.

Mike’s hand clutched in your hair, using it to pull your head back. With your neck bared to his teasing mouth, he took advantage as Andy bounced you on his cock. Mike worked into you from behind with care. You could tell he was holding back.

“You’re so good to us, baby,” Mike whispered into your skin. “Taking us both. You look so good riding our cocks… You feel like heaven.”

Andy, like you, seemed beyond speech. His lips gaped open as he watched you, pulling you down on his cock again and again. When he eased you down to him, his mouth claimed yours. You could taste yourself on his lips. When you couldn’t breathe anymore, you broke the kiss. Andy dipped his head to capture one of your nipples with his mouth. The wet lash of his tongue had you unraveling again, clenching around both of them as the orgasm rode you as hard as your two lovers were.

You were wilted between them, but they weren’t done. Their motions intensified as they chased their own release. Lying against Andy, you let them dominate you as they thrust into you faster and faster.

Mike reached his end first, pulling free of you and shooting his warm release all over your ass. Andy stayed seated inside of you, his cock punching up into you until a sob tore from his throat and he pumped his release into you like it was the last thing he’d ever do.

Andy’s heart was a steady cadence in your ear once you collapsed over him. His breath was as rushed as yours and his hands skimmed over your back with infinite care. Soft kisses pressed into your hair as he held you.

You felt the linen of Mike’s shirt as he wiped his release from your skin. Leaning up, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. You knew he was about to leave and you felt bad you were so out of it at the moment.

“You heading out?” Andy’s voice was a rumble beneath you.

“I think I’ll crash here for the night,” Mike sounded tired.

Andy’s hands froze. Blowing out a sigh, he rolled to his side and eased you onto the comforter. You stretched, got comfortable. Andy pulled the comfort over you to keep you from being chilled without him.

“I’ll be back for cuddles in just a minute,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your ear. You heard a little shuffling before you drifted off to sleep.

***

Andy pulled on his slacks as he led Mike from the living room. It wasn’t a conversation their girl needed to hear.

His girl.

Mike had pulled on his boxers, followed Andy to his home office.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, the smell of her was all over him, Andy regarded his partner.

“Is there a problem?” Mike asked, arms folded across his tatted chest. “With me staying over?”

“We didn’t talk about that,” Andy pointed out.

“There are a lot of things we didn’t talk about,” Mike came back.

Andy shook his head, heading for the mini bar to the side of his desk. He knew where this was going. He just didn’t want to have this discussion.

“Such as?” he asked, pulling out two glasses and pouring bourbon.

“When we came up with this, deal,” Mike said, “I guess I just assumed we’d get equal time with her.”

Handing him a glass, Andy drank from his own. “You know why she has to stay here, Mike. Your place isn’t safe. No offense.”

His partner nodded, his gaze dropped. He had no argument to make there.

“That’s why I don’t see why my staying here is a problem,” Mike went on. “It would give me more time with her. Even the playing field.”

“You want more sex?” Andy tried, hoping that was what Mike was getting at but suspecting that wasn’t his motivation.

“No. I want more time with her,” Mike explained. “It’s not just about sex. Not anymore. She’s more than that to me.”

Andy knew.

“I don’t know,” Andy stalled, having more bourbon.

“What’s the problem?” Mike wanted to know. “We have three-way sex pretty often. Why would actually sleeping together be an issue?”

Mike went further than Andy expected. He could see the younger lawyer asking to sleep next to her in the guest room. But was he really suggesting they all share a bed?

Tired as he was, Andy’s mind still spun. “Here and there I guess it would be okay. But often? People talk.”

Mike rolled his eyes, setting the glass of alcohol on Andy’s desk untouched. “How many nights have I been over here until midnight or after, huh? We’re partners in a law firm. No one would give a shit.”

“I really don’t want some of your friends showing up,” Andy admitted. "I don't want them around her."

“Fuck, are you really going to bring up Ali stopping by here last week?” Mike asked, his frustration growing. “It wasn’t drugs. I paid him to dig up some dirt for me. It was part of the reason we won the case today in case you don't remember.”

“I still don’t want anyone like that around my house,” Andy warned. “Or her.”

That stopped him, had Mike pacing and raking a hand through his sandy hair.

“Look,” Mike said after a minute. “When we came up with this idea, it sounded great. But I didn’t immediately grasp the advantages you have in this situation. I want more.”

Draining his glass, Andy regarded his partner.

“She can’t be at my place,” Mike said before he could. “I know that. But I’m sick of being a guest star in the bedroom while we ride this contract out. I want equal time. I deserve that.”

“Mike,” Andy struggled with what he wanted to say. “If I agree to this, it’s just until the six months is up.”

Mike stopped, his brows rose. “And then?”

Andy blew out an exhale.

“And then the contract is up,” Andy told him. “She will have kept her end of the arrangement. She’s then free to do what she wants. Choose who she wants.”

Andy just hoped to God she chose him.

“That include living here?” Mike demanded.

Yes. Andy hoped she’d want to stay.

Mike shook his head. “I can’t match that. And I’m… I’m sorry, I’m not willing to just let you have her.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have a lot to offer her too.” Mike meant it.

Andy knew he did and he was younger.

But how were they going to deal with the situation?

“So how does this play out?” Andy threw it back at him.

Mike studied him for a moment, thinking. That razor-sharp mind was going a mile a minute. It was one of Mike’s strengths. And weaknesses. Mike so easily got lost in his head. Feelings? He didn’t navigate so well.

“When the contract is over,” Mike said finally, “we leave it up to her.”

Oh, it sounded good. But Andy knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“Whoever she chooses, the other one just needs to accept it,” Mike said flatly. And with the way his chin lifted when he said it, Andy knew he intended for their girl to choose him.

Andy nodded.

But he had a very different plan.

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