#fic: halcyon

[ddelline]

halcyon (and on and on)

work: halcyon (and on and on) fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | my hero academia rating: M relationship(s): bakugō katsuki/midoriya izuku character(s): ensemble cast (tagged on ao3) tags: post-canon | characters are pro heroes | getting together | slow burn | mha manga spoilers | aged-up character(s) | canon-typical violence

summary work:

Life began as a massive explosion, a blinding light. In contrast, Katsuki’s demise begins with a flour streaked counter, wilting green onions, and a bloodied kitchen towel. or: Katsuki falls in love, wages a war, and learns how to unearth a forest from behind trees without resorting to large-scale arson.

summary chapter:

The march towards death had begun with the most inane fucking single step, and here Katsuki is, feeling, like an idiot, and thinking: I knew I was fine dying for this asshole before I knew I was in dumb fucking love with him. Well, go figure.

ch 01 | the fall | here

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 14: Me Too, Baby

Joel helps you. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 13, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected P in V sex. Fingering. Childcare struggles. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 6.7k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Joel wasn’t sure what he expected to find at his front door at almost midnight on a Friday night but it wasn’t you with a screaming baby in your arms. 

“Please,” you said again, your eyes red and wide and there were little rivers of mascara that ran down your cheeks. 

“You’re OK, Goldie,” he said. “I’ve got you, you’re OK.” 

He moved without thinking, just taking the carrier gently from your trembling hands. He had to almost pry it away from you, your fingers clinging to it like a life raft. He carefully tucked the handle over his arm and put his other arm around your shoulders, guiding you into his house because he wasn’t sure he could trust you to just walk in all on your own. 

“I’m s-s-s-,” you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to contain the racking sobs that were making your whole body shake. “I’m sorry, she just… she won’t stop crying and I can’t get her to eat and…” 

“It’s OK,” he said gently, taking you and your wailing niece to the kitchen. He set the carrier gingerly on the table and took you by the shoulders. “Goldie, when did she last eat?” 

“I… I don’t know,” you said, getting worked up again from what little calm you’d managed to gain  only moments before. “I got her to take some of a bottle earlier but not enough and that was… that was… what time is it?” 

He looked you up and down, frowning. He’d known things with Anna and Ellie were bad but he’d never seen you like this, never seen you out of control like this. 

“It’s OK,” he said. “She’s probably hungry…” 

“I know she’s hungry!” You snapped before you gasped and clamped your hands over your mouth, new tears welling up in your eyes before you pulled your hands away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not your fault I can’t take care of her, I…” 

Joel hushed you gently and wished he could just hold you for a while, get you to breathe, but that would have to wait until after he got Ellie to settle. 

“I’m going to feed her,” Joel said calmly, his hands still on your shoulders as he guided you to a chair at the kitchen table. “You sit, it’s OK, I’ve got you, both of you.” 

He went to the pantry and got one of the cans of formula he’d picked up from the store earlier that day. You’d texted him the night before after getting home from Ellie’s appointment, worried that the doctor hadn’t told you anything useful. He remembered the formula struggle with Sarah, how it took what felt like a small eternity for the pediatrician to tell him to change what he was feeding her when it seemed like all she would do was cry and all Joel wanted to do was take whatever was hurting her away. He didn’t want to put anything else on you and Anna so he just picked it up, planning to bring it to Anna’s tomorrow afternoon. 

He made the bottle quickly as you sat as his table, a glassy look in your eyes as you stared straight ahead and Ellie cried. He tested the formula temperature on his skin before going and taking Ellie delicately from her carseat. 

“I hear you, baby girl,” he said quietly, tucking her into his body just so. He angled her head and, after some coaxing, got her to take the bottle. She was still breathing in little, worked up huffs but she was eating, quieting as she did. “There you go, you’re alright.” 

“How did you do that?” You sniffed, drying your eyes on the backs of your wrists.

“We’ll see how she does with it,” Joel said, looking over at you. “Sarah was real rough early on, too. Wouldn’t eat for the life of her. Turns out she was allergic to somethin’ in the formula and it was upsetting her stomach and there was something about the angle I was holdin’ her at too… anyway, I got some of the formula that worked for her, figured I’d try the way I held her, too.” 

You just nodded before looking around yourself for a moment and then frowning. 

“What?” He asked, watching you was he walked slowly with your niece, bouncing her gently as she ate. 

“My bag,” you said, looking around. “I think I left it in the car, I wasn’t thinking, I wanted to write down what you were doing but I don’t have my notebook and I’m not sure I’ll remember it and…” 

“Goldie,” he said gently. “You’re alright.” 

You nodded and teared up again before closing your eyes and taking a deep, trembling breath. 

Ellie drank most of the bottle and fell asleep before finishing it. Joel swayed with her gently as he set the bottle on the counter. 

“Are you OK?” He asked, still moving with the baby in his arms to make sure she was good and out of it. You nodded quickly. “Good. Where’s Anna? Why do you have the baby?” 

“Anna…” your lips quivered and you hiccuped. “She… She left.” 

“What?” He gaped at you. “What do you mean she left, where is she?” 

“I don’t know,” your voice was thick and wet. “I don’t know if I should call the police, I’m afraid if I do they’ll find her all drugged out and arrest her but I wouldn’t even know where to start…” 

“What happened?” He asked, straining to keep the concern out of his voice. You were already close enough to a panic without his help. “Just… start at the beginning.” 

“We had Ellie’s appointment yesterday,” you said, taking a deep breath. “It didn’t go well, the doctor said he wanted to see us back in less than a week because she’s lost weight. Anna told him she’s been trying everything but… I don’t know, it felt like he didn’t really believe her. I took her home and said I would stay over last night but she told me no, she wanted to do it on her own… so then I went home and I was working and it was late and she texted me to see if I was home and then a few minutes later she texted me to check my porch and I did and Ellie was there, she was just there, in her carseat with her diaper bag and the can of formula and Anna was gone, she was just gone, I called her and she answered and told me she’d be back but I have no idea where she went or who she’s with and…” 

“Alright,” Joel cut you off before you fully panicked. “It’s alright, you got Ellie, it’s OK.” 

You just nodded again and he watched you for a moment. 

It was so unnatural, seeing you this way. You had always been so remarkably certain in his mind. You were the smartest person he’d ever met, you always had the answers, you knew what you were doing with your life. You had talent - so much goddamn talent - that it had never even really been a question. You had a path and the drive to find your way through it and, while you’d stumbled in some things, you were still you. This wasn’t you. 

“OK,” Joel said, the baby’s breaths having settled into the steady rhythm of deep sleep. “I’m gonna go set her down. You go to my room and sit down, OK? Sarah’s asleep, this hasn’t exactly been quiet…” 

“Sorry,” you said softly. 

He gave you a look. 

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here and comin’ here was smart. Just that I don’t want you feeling like you need to explain this to my daughter right now. We can deal with that in the morning once you’ve gotten some sleep. Now. My room. Go.” 

You nodded and got up slowly from the table and Joel walked behind you, up the stairs and down the hall. You went in his room and he went into the room he’d pretended was going to be an office when he’d bought this house even though he knew he’d never have a job that required an office. Instead, it had turned into a storage room for shit that wouldn’t do well in the garage and that he was too lazy to move to the attic. At least, it had until Anna had gotten pregnant. He’d cleaned it up then, getting Sarah’s old nursery stuff out of storage and cleaning off the cobwebs and the dust. He’d even set the crib mattress at the height that would be best for Ellie at this age, feeling like a dumbass as he’d done it - why would you be taking your newborn niece to his house? - but he was grateful for it now. 

He set her gently into the crib and she scrunched her face for a moment, like she was considering wailing again, but then she relaxed and settled there. He turned on the baby monitor - also from Sarah’s infancy, he’d been amazed at the technology in them now when he was helping you pick one for Anna - and pocketed the receiver before he crept out of the room, closing the door almost silently behind him. 

There was a glow of light from around the frame of his bedroom door and he tried not to think about the last time he’d shared a bed with you, how you’d both ended up when you had. 

He went to the kitchen and got one of the biggest cups he could find - one of those tall beer glasses he’d gotten at some Oktoberfest thing Tommy had dragged him to one year - and filled it with water. He grabbed a snack sized pack of almonds he had for Sarah’s lunches and went back upstairs, taking a deep breath before opening the door to his bedroom. 

You were sitting at the foot of his bed, your arms folded and clutched around your stomach as you stared straight ahead. 

“Hey,” he said, more to say something than to actually say that. You looked at him, like you’d only just noticed he was there. You’d cleaned up the streaks of mascara. “Here, guessing you’ve eaten about as much as she has today…” 

He set the receiver to the baby monitor on his dresser before he handed you the almonds and sat beside you on the bed, his legs stretched far out in front of him. You opened the small bag and poured a few nuts into your palm before putting them in your mouth as though they were a handful of pills. 

“This too,” he said as you chewed, handing you the water. 

You nodded and took the glass, your fingers brushing his as you did, and you drank in big, desperate gulps, Joel’s hand coming to rest at the small of your back, slipping below the hem of your shirt to find the soft of your skin there and when he did, the tears started again, less overwrought and more like a release of some deeply held pain. 

“Talk to me,” he said quietly. “What’s going on.” 

You looked at him then, cheeks wet and eyes red and he just wanted to take you away from everything that had ever hurt you. 

“I can’t do this, Joel,” you said softly. 

“Goldie…” 

“I can’t,” you said it with such certainty. “I’m going to ruin this baby, I’m going to ruin her and she’s going to be stuck living with my inability to take care of her the way that she needs. She’s going to be the one who has to suffer because of it, not me, her and she doesn’t deserve that, Joel, she doesn’t! And she’s… she’s so tiny and perfect and she deserves someone who can give her everything and I can’t. I wish I could, I would do anything for her but I can’t and…” 

“What makes you think you can’t?” He cut you off as you started to edge toward hyperventilation. 

“Look at what I’ve done so far!” You stood up so fast it made Joel flinch a little. “I’ve had her not even a day and I’ve already failed her! Anna trusted me with her daughter and I’ve done nothing but fuck up! I wasn’t good enough to help Anna when she needed me and she had to leave to stay sane and she left me with her fucking kid and I…” 

“Why do you think this is on you?” Joel cut you off, watching as you paced, resisting the urge to just hold onto you, giving you a chance to work some of the nervous energy out. “Babies… they’re fuckin’ hard sometimes, they just are. They can’t tell you what’s wrong, they don’t really understand it themselves, all you can really do is try and figure it out and yeah, sometimes that’s a lot of trial and error…” 

“Trial and error that I am not built to do!” 

“Why do you say that?” He asked, not able to keep from touching you any longer. He got up and took your shoulders in his hands.

“Because it’s true!” You looked at him, your lip quivering and you seemed so small in that moment, like he could gather you up and carry you with him forever. 

“Why?” He asked. “Baby, you’re not makin’ sense, you need to explain this to me because I’m fuckin’ lost…” 

“You really think I’m someone who should be looking after a child?” You asked, eyes wide. 

“Yes!” Joel said, baffled, looking you up and down like there would be some physical indication of whatever defect you were talking about. “I’d trust you with Sarah in a heartbeat…” 

You scoffed. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” He continued like you hadn’t made a sound at all. “I’ve told you before, I’m glad you’re in her life, I’m thankful for it every damn day! She needs someone like you - hell, not someone like you she needs you, why wouldn’t she?” 

“Because I’m too selfish!” You all but screamed it, closing your eyes when you did. 

Joel had the strangest urge to laugh. It wasn’t funny but the concept was so ridiculous he didn’t see what else he was supposed to do. 

“What?” He said instead. 

“I’m not capable of doing what it takes to take care of a child,” you opened your eyes and looked at him, pleading. “I’m just not, it’s not in me…” 

“Do you not want kids?” He asked, brows raised. The question stung, as if you’d want kids with him either way so it didn’t matter but it didn’t sound like you. You liked kids. You always had. He didn’t understand. 

“What?” You looked back at him, so baffled that it calmed your crying. “No, of course I want kids but it’s not a good idea for me, you know me you must know that, you must see that, you…” 

“No,” he cut you off. “I don’t, I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby, you’re not making any damn sense and…” 

“I’m not capable of doing what is necessary for a child!” You said. “I’m too… I’m in my own head all the time, in my own head or on the page or anywhere else but I’m not reliable enough or nurturing enough and he knew that and you must know it, too and…” 

“Who knew it?” Joel said. “I still don’t…” 

“Gale!” You choked on his name and Joel’s hold on you tightened. “He knew, maybe you’re just not close enough to me now to see it but he could see it, he could see me and he knew that I would ruin a baby and I’m ruining Ellie, I’m ruining Anna’s baby, I ruin everything and I’m trying, I’m trying so hard but I just can’t!” 

“You’re not ruining anything!” He said, eyes searching yours. “That… that fucker? He didn’t see you, Goldie. He never did.” 

“Joel…” 

“He didn’t,” Joel said, his grip sliding up and over your shoulders to your neck, your face, holding what felt like the world in his hands. “He never saw you, Goldie girl, never. He saw someone he could fucking manipulate and use but he never saw you because you… Fuck, baby! You are everything and he doesn’t get to take that away from you! You… you are brilliant and fucking beautiful and you are one of the most caring people I’ve ever met. You couldn’t ruin anything if you fucking tried and that… that fucking guy doesn’t get to tell you otherwise! Understand?” 

You just stared at him for what felt like an eternity, your face held firm in his hands, your tears on his palm, and the next thing he knew he was kissing you. 

Your lips were desperate on his, more than he’d ever felt before. You kissed him in the same way you’d fucked yourself against him in the hotel, that moment he would have given anything to go back to and given anything to take back. 

He hadn’t been able to get it out of his head the days he was away from you. He’d made himself come over and over to the memory of you pressed tightly against him, hoping it would eventually work its way out of his system and he could go back to thinking of you as Goldie, his best friend who he loved more than almost anything, not the woman he couldn’t look at without wanting. After three days, he gave up. He just hoped that, some day, it would fade and he could find a way to move on. 

But now your arms were around his neck and your body was pressed tight to his and your tears were on his face and your kiss tasted like almonds and salt and he knew there would be no coming back from this. Not for him. 

He guided you back toward the bed, turning you so your legs were against the mattress and you eased yourself down onto it, fingers tangling in his hair, your lips never leaving his. 

You moved back toward the middle of the bed and Joel moved with you, one knee coming onto the mattress and then the other, one between your legs as he tugged your shirt up and over your head, casting it aside on the floor. You pulled at his and he helped you take it off, breaking the kiss with you long enough then to watch as you deftly unhooked your bra and slipped it off, the straps sliding down your arms, the cups the last thing to leave your body and then you were bared to him there, the plush fullness of your breasts and curve of your waist and the way your eyes looked up at him round and deep and needing him in the way he’d always dreamed that you would. 

“Joel,” you whispered and he kissed you again, his hands trying to go everywhere all at once. He needed to touch you everywhere, memorize everything, take all of you into himself in a way he never had with another person. He’d had the chance with you once before and he’d squandered it, too lost in the fact that everything was intense and new to really understand that it was happening with you. He had the strangest desire to swallow you up. To let the essence of you dissolve on his tongue like sugar so he could taste you and hold you within himself forever.

Instead, he found satisfaction in your skin. You were so soft below his touch and his fingers lingered on the small things it felt like only he could know about you, little swells and creases, things he was sure you would worry about him noticing but he loved them. All these little things that made you human, made you you and he wanted to know them all. It felt like he already should. 

Your hips rocked up against him and you whimpered against his mouth as his hands skimmed over your waist to your breasts and he took them in his hands, marveling at just how fucking good you felt. Nothing had ever felt this good, nothing should feel this good but you did. It seemed forbidden, somehow, like it had the morning after prom and you both realized what you’d done. But even that cold memory couldn’t take away from this moment, here with you, warm and soft beneath him. 

He pulled his lips from yours to kiss down your cheek, your chin, your throat, taking a nipple in his mouth as he cradled the warmth of your tit in his hand, sucking and licking at you, making you gasp and your back arch. Your hands trembled as they found his shoulders, sliding slowly over his skin and down his back like you were savoring him the way he wanted to savor you. 

Joel kissed over your skin, trailing his lips and tongue along to your other breast, tasting that one, too, as you took a shaky and desperate breath below him. He kept going down your body then, working his way gradually lower until he reached the waistband of your jeans. He unbuttoned them and slowly, carefully, unzipped them, hooking his fingers around the denim and the soft cotton of your underwear but your hands met his and he lifted himself from you enough to look you in the eye. 

“Want me to stop touchin’ you?” He asked, praying that you wouldn’t say yes. 

“No,” you whispered but you still looked uncertain. 

“Trust me?” He asked, watching you closely. You nodded quickly. He leaned forward to press a soft, lingering kiss above your navel before looking back at you. “I’ve got you, baby. Don’t worry.” 

“Please,” you said softly, your voice shaky. 

He turned back to the work of pulling off your clothes, tugging your pants down with you lifting your hips from the bed to help. Joel stood as he bared the last of your skin, your thighs pressed tightly together, feet propped up on the bed, your arms covering your stomach as best they could. 

“Can I see you?” He asked as he opened his own jeans. “All of you?” 

“You,” you closed your eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. “You want that?” 

“I do,” he said. “More than anything.” 

You straightened your legs gradually, relaxing them as you went, your hands sliding slowly, almost sensually over your stomach as you did. 

“Want you to touch yourself,” he said as he took hold of the waist of his pants and the top of his underwear. Your eyes went wide. “You… you ever think about me when you do?” 

“Yes,” you whispered and you closed your eyes again, swallowing harshly. “All the time.” 

“Show me?” 

Your hand trembled as you slipped it between your thighs, brushing over your clit for a moment before moving lower, the heel of your palm pressed tight to the top of your slit as he watched, entranced, as your finger slid inside yourself, whispering his name as you did.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed as he watched you, your other hand moving to take hold of your tit, squeezing it and he had to remind himself to move instead of just watching you do the things he was ashamed to admit he’d dreamed of you doing. 

He stripped and ran his hands over the inside of your calves to your thighs, opening your legs to him, his eyes all but locked on the way you were working just a single finger in and out of yourself. His hand covered yours and you gasped, freezing when he did. 

“Keep goin’,” he said, gravel in his voice. You swallowed, hard, but obeyed and, when your finger was all but fully outside of your entrance, he covered it with his own, the wet heat of you on your own skin intoxicating.You slowly, firmly, pressed back into yourself and he followed your lead, his thicker, longer finger pushing in alongside your own. 

You moaned as he did, the sound seeming to come from deep within you as he slid inside, something almost broken about it. He moaned, too. He couldn’t help it, already lost in just how goddamn warm and tight and wet and soft you were inside and he thought, for a moment, maybe he hadn’t imagined just how good it had been with you so many years ago. Maybe it hadn’t been all in his head, some memory gilded by the haze of youth and by his inexperience and by the fact that it was with you. Maybe being with you was that much better than everyone else he’d ever touched. 

“I’ve got you,” he said and you nodded, slipping your finger out of yourself and Joel felt you completely grip some part of him for the first time in so long and he groaned at it, watching where part of him disappeared into you. 

He worked you slowly, firmly that way for a minute, until your hips were moving almost of their own accord and he could feel the softest parts of you on the tip of his finger. He added another one and felt you stretch a little to accommodate him and you whimpered as you took him, one of your hands groping your own tit, the other twisting in the sheets as your legs fell even further open. He scissored his fingers apart inside you, opening you to him and your back arched and you ground yourself down on his hand, your pussy tightening around him. 

“That’s it,” he said, not even caring that he sounded out of his mind with need. “C’mon and come for me, you’re real tight, need you to come.” 

“Joel,” you panted. “I… fuck!” 

“I’ve got you,” he said gently. “It’s OK, just let go for me, don’t hold back, never hold back with me, just let go.” 

You turned your head and buried your face in his blankets and moaned as you fell apart and he couldn’t help but watch where his fingers were inside you, how your body fluttered and clutched at him, how your chest rose and fell, how your back arched, how fucking beautiful you looked when - for just a moment - he was able to drive every worry from your mind. 

He worked you through your orgasm, his fingers stilling inside you as your walls did and he pulled himself from you slowly, gently, his skin shining with your pleasure before he spread it over his cock, harder than he could ever remember it being. 

But when he looked to your face, your eyes were wide and uncertain and he felt his stomach drop. 

“Is this what you want?” He asked quietly. “Because…” 

You nodded quickly, cutting him off before he could finish. 

“I want you,” you said, sounding breathless and fucked out. “Please, I want you so bad.” 

He nodded then and moved the head of his cock to brush over your slit, trailing up and down and thrusting a little against your swollen clit. He gently, reverently, spread you open for him, exposing your grasping entrance to him and he had to resist the urge to press his lips to you there, to slide his tongue inside and devour whatever pleasure you would let him take. But he was already afraid that this wasn’t going to last as long as he wanted and he didn’t want to risk coming before he was even inside you. 

Joel spread one hand on the soft of your stomach, the other fisted his cock as he pressed himself into you, a moment of resistance before he was enveloped in your tight, wet heat. 

“Fuck,” he panted, watching where you were joined, just the first two inches of him inside you but you moaned all the same and suddenly, he wasn’t nearly close enough to you, there was too much of your skin he wasn’t touching. He looked to your face and you seemed to have the same thought he did, eyes wide, pupils blown. 

“Please,” you whispered, like wanting him was a secret. “I… I need…” 

“I know,” he said, covering your body with his own, one hand slipping below your back to hold you tighter to him, the other finding your thigh to pull your leg against him. You closed your eyes and nodded, a blissed out look on your face. “Me too, baby.” 

He drove himself deeper into you, memorizing the way your body opened for him as he fit himself into the cradle of your hips and he was aware, suddenly, he hadn’t put on a condom. It had been years since he’d been inside someone without one - since the night Sarah was conceived - and it was a heady thing, realizing that there was nothing separating him and you. But instead of any underlying fear or spark of wrongness like he’d felt years ago with Sarah’s mother, he just felt right. Like this was how he was supposed to be, a part of you, breathing the same air and feeling your throbbing pulse and shuddering breaths from inside. You opened your eyes then and looked at him, your gaze locked on his as he filled you totally, feeling his head brush the back of your channel. You tilted your hips just so and he moaned a stuttering moan and marveled at just how clearly he could feel you like this. 

He kissed you then, your mouth warm and soft as he ground himself deep inside of you, you grinding your hips up against his, your hands on his back, fingers pressing into his skin as he worked himself into you. He was reluctant to pull back even a little, the satisfaction he found from being this close to you too short lived. Almost immediately, he needed more, he needed closer, he needed you to let him inside your skin where your blood pulsed and lungs filled because anything short of that was not enough. Instead, he kept himself buried to the hilt within you, totally enveloped by you, the wet of your come making a sticky mess of him and he didn’t care. He hitched your leg higher, found ways to be deeper, bodies in total alignment when he pulled his mouth from yours to move to your neck, kissing and sucking at the delicate skin of your throat. 

“Joel,” your fingers grew tighter on his back, like you wanted him impossibly closer, too. “I’m going to come, I…” 

“Not gonna last when you do,” he said, his own climax already so much closer than he wanted it to be. He wished he could spend hours inside you like this, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you. “I…” 

“Don’t leave me,” you tightened your leg on his hip, your arms pulling him so close to you. “Please don’t leave me.” 

“Not leaving,” he said, fucking into you a little harder, pressing as deep as he possibly could with each and every motion, brushing his lips against the skin of your throat. “Never leaving, you’re OK.” 

“Joel,” you said again, your fingers going from his back to his hair, pulling his face from your neck. Your eyes searched his for a moment before you pulled his mouth to yours and kissed him, rocking your hips up against him before holding them there and he felt you come apart then, in a way that seemed like your entire being was throbbing around him so hot and tight it almost hurt before he gave into his own orgasm, his fingers pressing deep into the softness of your thigh, the small of your back, holding you as close as he could as he emptied himself into you. 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever come that hard in his life, not even his first time with you 15 years earlier, pulse after pulse reaching from somewhere deep inside himself to give it you. Because, he reasoned, damn near everything that was him belonged to you, anyway. 

Joel collapsed when he was done, trying to be conscious of his weight so as to not crush you beneath him but his mind and limbs were buzzing and he couldn’t seem to manage anything beyond just existing inside you for a moment. 

After a minute, though, he came back into himself. He lifted his body from yours slowly, gently, you still breathless below him and pulled his already softening cock from your warmth, a thread of your come and his still connecting your bodies until the tie broke. 

He lay carefully beside you, watching you closely, waiting for you to panic or run. But you didn’t. You turned your head to look at him, your eyes ranging over him and you felt so far away. He didn’t like that. 

“Here,” he said, nudging you onto your side with the arm that was still below you so you were facing him. He pulled you closer before brushing your hair back from your forehead, your eyes closing as he did. “I’ve got you, OK?” 

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you pressed yourself close to him, your face buried in his shoulder and your arm hooking around his back and he trailed his fingers up and down the path of your spine as he felt you fall asleep in his arms, feeling like you and him were right where you belonged for the first time since prom. 

May 2008, the Tuesday after prom 

Why was Ricky always fucking late? 

Joel was pacing below the stadium, his footsteps echoing ominously off the concrete. Ricky’s last block was free, too. He told Joel he could meet him here, he said he’d come as soon as he was done with class and where was he? Not fucking here, that’s for damn sure. 

He pulled out his phone and checked the time. There were only a few minutes left of the school day now and this wasn’t a conversation he wanted overheard if he could fucking help it. 

“Goddammit,” he muttered to himself, clenching and unclenching his jaw. 

“Sorry!” Ricky ran over, hiking his backpack strap up on his arm and looking back over his shoulder. “Ran into Kasey on my way out and she was a little pissed I wouldn’t tell her what the fuck I was running off to do so this had better be good…” 

“I need your help,” Joel said, looking around him one last time, as though anyone really gave a shit about what he’d be saying but still. “And I need you to keep your mouth fucking shut about it, OK?” 

“Sure, man,” he said, frowning. “Stays between us, what’s goin’ on?” 

Joel crossed his arms, his thumb worrying at his elbow and he paced, his tongue in his throat now that he had to actually fucking own up to this. 

“You and Kasey,” he said, watching Ricky. “You two are fucking, right?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I mean we’ve been dating two years, I’d fucking hope so.” 

“Right,” Joel nodded, his stomach in knots. 

“Jesus, Joel, look like somethin’s eating you alive,” Ricky said. “What, you get herpes or something?” 

“What?” Joel gave him a look. “No, Jesus, I just…” 

He paced for a moment before coming to a stop in front of Ricky. 

“You know I went to prom with Goldie, right?” 

Ricky frowned and said your name, something that sounded so familiar but so foreign to Joel. 

“Yeah,” he continued. “Y’all looked good together.” 

“Right,” Joel nodded, then quickly added. “Thanks…” 

“So,” Ricky said after a minute. “What about it?” 

“Well,” Joel ground his teeth for a moment. “Well we… we had sex.”

“Oh shit!” Ricky laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good for you, man, she looked hot as fuck that night. She good? I bet she’s good, she looks like…” 

“Hey, fuck you!” Joel yelled and shoved him. “Don’t talk about her like that!” 

“Woah, sorry, fuck!” Ricky said, his hands up. “Didn’t mean anything by it, she just looks… anyway, what’s the problem? You’ve had a thing for her forever, right?” 

“Yeah, but,” Joel said, his voice low. “I didn’t use a condom.”

“Oh shit,” Ricky said. “Why not? You’re a dumbass but I didn’t think you were that much of a dumbass.” 

“I didn’t have a condom,” he hissed. “It’s… it’s Goldie. I didn’t think that was going to happen, not in a million years did I think that was going to fucking happen and I just…” 

“Just what?” He asked. 

“What if I fucked up everything for her?” Joel asked. “What do I do? What if I got her pregnant? You and Kasey must have talked about that shit, right? Had a scare or… or something? My mom checks the fucking computer at home and everything at the school is blocked so I can’t even Google this shit…” 

“Shit, man,” Ricky sighed, his eyes wide. “We haven’t had to deal with that. Fuck knows we’re not perfect about condoms but she’s on the pill. I don’t know if there’s even a clinic around here, I could ask Kasey, she might have some friends…” 

Joel just nodded, still trying not to panic. It felt like he’d been on the verge of panic since the morning after prom and realized what he’d done. How had he done something so fucking stupid? How had he been so goddamn reckless? With you of all people? 

He’d taken the fucking sex ed classes - which was more than his mother had ever said to him, only ever saying “just wait until you’re married before you go thinking about that” - and he knew that it only took one time, one time of him being a fucking idiot and giving in to what he wanted so bad he thought it might swallow him whole if he didn’t to ruin everything. He knew he might have gotten you pregnant and it wasn’t fucking fair that it was your life that would get wrecked because of his stupid fucking choices. He’d trade places if it were possible, make it so he was the one who had to go through all the bullshit and get all the stares for becoming a teenaged parent but it was always worse for girls. He wasn’t stupid, he’d seen it at school and he couldn’t handle seeing that happen to you. Especially if that meant you needing to drop out of college and derail your entire life, everything great you were going to do, because he’d fucked up. 

“Well, hey, at least it’s her, right?” Ricky said, pulling Joel out of his own head. Joel just looked at him. “Could be worse, at least if… you know. At least it’s your friend.” 

“No,” Joel shook his head. “It’s Goldie. I wish it were anyone else. It’d be better if it were anyone else.”

Joel heard signs of people nearby and sighed. 

“Shit,” he said. “School’s out… I need to go try and find her, pick up Tommy…” 

“Maybe it’d be better if you gave it a few days with her,” Ricky said, looking Joel up and down. “You’re freaking out, man. You’re only gonna freak her out, too. Just… Calm down, get your shit together, then talk to her. It’s not like she’s going anywhere, right? I’ll help you come up with a plan just in case but don’t talk to her while you’re freaking the fuck out. It’ll just make it worse.” 

“Right,” Joel nodded. “That’s… you’re right.” 

Ricky clapped him on the shoulder again, giving him a friendly shake. 

“Y’all will figure it out,” he said. “If anyone can, it’s you two.” 

Joel nodded, trying to sort out his thoughts and figure out if he even could actually stay away from you any longer than he already had. 

But, he thought, Ricky was right. You were the smartest person Joel knew and, for you, he was pretty sure he could figure out anything. 

Next Chapter

A/N: Alrighty, I think we have most of the missing pieces to the Goldie disappearance now, right? Yeah? Cool.

I hope this chapter was worth the wait! I know it's been a long time coming for these two and they certainly still have a LOT to work through - the angst is still gonna be angstening for a bit yet because it's me BUT at least they got this far. Thanks for coming along for the ride! I really couldn't love and appreciate you all more.

Love you!!

[sekai9]

So I did a thing.

Funny how you have a shower thought and the next thing you know you're 90k words deep into a time travel fix it.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Body Electric

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader x Billy Taylor (The Halcyon) Warnings: Angst, mentions of PTSD and familial death, (consensual) infidelity, voyeurism, smut. Word count: ~3.9k

Summary: Tom's been sullen since returning from the Navy, and when his sister, Lois, moves from Longsight to London it heralds the end of the honeymoon period of his and his wife's marriage. Deciding a trip to the capital is just what they need to reignite the flame, Tom's wife gets much more than she bargains for when they check into The Halcyon, and she flirts with the handsome young bell boy to make her husband jealous.

Author's note: For @adragonprinceswhore and @mefools. This is not a crack fic. I have warped canon (I mean, I had to get these two to exist in the same AU anyway), so Billy didn't die when he was drafted, and has gone back to his old job at The Halcyon. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Dappled sunlight plays upon Tom’s sharp features, the occasional shadow of a tree or building passing across his face as the train speeds through the British countryside. He’d look beautiful, bathed in golden hues, were it not for the pensive expression he wears, and the faintest of dark circles that linger beneath his eyes.

She can’t remember the last time he looked genuinely happy - perhaps it was their wedding day?

Her and Tom had met in secondary school, and she’d thought he was an idiot to begin with; handsome, but always mucking around in lessons, never able to take anything seriously. It wasn’t until they’d both left that they’d become an item. She’d go to the weekly dances at the Pavillion, and every week he would ask her out. The first three times she had said no, not wanting to get mixed up with a known troublemaker. On the fourth occasion she’d relented, simply in the hopes that if she said yes he’d leave her alone. But she’d found she enjoyed his company, he made her laugh effortlessly, and when his blue eyes gazed into hers it made her feel like the only girl in the world that mattered. When he had kissed her it had stolen all the air from her lungs, and from that point on she was smitten with Tom Bennett.

The night before he shipped out for the first time, she had thought he meant to slam the bed’s headboard through the brickwork of the wall with the force with which he took her. However, she had smiled to herself when she’d felt the pleasant ache between her thighs the next day.

“Something to remember me by,” he’d told her with a wink and that trademark smirk of his.

Something to remember indeed.

She’d barely recognised him when he’d returned. He was thin, tired, didn’t laugh as freely, and learning that his father had passed when the Bennett family home was shelled had darkened his mood further. He hadn’t stayed long, enough to argue with his sister, Lois, and enough to find his way between her thighs once more and make her swear to him that she’d marry him when he came back.

Of course she had said yes, there was no one in the world she could imagine wanting to marry more than Tom. But with how things are between them these days she is left wondering if he’d married her because he loved her, or because she was the one thing left in Longsight that he could anchor himself to.

They’d married quickly when Tom was discharged for the final time, the war at its end. It had been an intimate affair, and despite the toll his service to his country had taken on him, Tom still gazed into her eyes on their wedding night and made her feel like the only girl in the world that mattered.

But then Lois had announced she was taking Vera and moving to London - her and Connie had found a place they could share. A fresh start. She had hinted at wanting to move away from Longsight before, and Tom had dismissed it, insisting that the family must stay together. 

He was furious when she’d chosen to go anyway, refusing to be part of the send off party for her at the train station.

“This is where mum and dad are buried, how can she do this?!” He’d raged.

“They’re just headstones, Tommy,” she had tried to reassure him, “memories go everywhere with you.”

“You wouldn’t fucking understand,” he’d seethed back at her, “you’ve still got both your parents, what have I got?!”

“You’ve got me, you’ll always have me,” she’d said quietly.

He’d fallen silent at that, bowing his head and averting his gaze. It made her chest ache to see him that way.

It’s been close to a month since they were last intimate, and she has done her best to be patient and understanding. His time in the Navy has put him through a horrendous ordeal, coupled with losing Douglas, and his sister moving away, so she doesn’t pressure him.

However, she misses her husband. She feels that he is abandoning her each time he retreats into himself, going somewhere she can’t follow. Like two ships in the night, they pass each other by, laying in the same bed physically but emotionally never further apart.

When a letter arrives from Lois, letting them know she’s settled and would love for them to visit, she jumps at the opportunity. She has some money put aside from her job at the factory, and her and Tom never got to have a honeymoon, this would be the perfect way for them to rekindle the romance in their marriage.

She is shocked, yet thrilled, when Tom actually agrees to it, and the pair of them arrange a week’s worth of leave from their respective jobs, arranging to stay in a hotel rather than impose themselves upon Lois’ hospitality. There’d be plenty for them to do while they’re there, and she can’t wait to see the sights of Piccadilly Circus and Carnaby Street, she’s never been to London before.

Tom has stared silently out of the window the entire train ride from Manchester, though she knows better than to believe he’s taking in the scenery. It’s merely so he doesn’t have to make conversation. She can live with that, she is certain that once they’ve had their romantic week away that he’ll be much more talkative on the journey back.

Everything will be fine once we’re checked into The Halcyon.

It is early evening by the time they arrive, and Euston station is a crowded rush of people when they step onto the platform. She is fearful of it for a moment, never having seen so many people all in one place at once, until Tom takes her by the hand, guiding her through the crowds towards the taxi rank. Her heart soars at the gesture, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips over his protectiveness. Perhaps he is not lost to her after all.

She stares in wide eyed wonder out of the window of the black cab as it drives through the streets of London. It is similar to Manchester in its greyness and vastness, they both have all the trappings of big city living, however, the heart of London beats to an entirely different rhythm than that of Manchester’s. The capital seems harsher, more relentless than the northern locale that she calls home. She wonders if perhaps this is the right place to try to rekindle the spark in hers and Tom’s marriage after all.

That is until they step into the foyer of The Halcyon. Her heels click against the black and white tiles of the foyer, her mouth agape as she takes in the opulence of the huge pillars, the palm trees that flank either side of the entrance, and the yellow and orange hues of the stained glass panel in the ceiling. How could they not reignite their passion when they were going to live like royalty for a week?

“Billy!” The dark haired woman manning reception calls around the corner, once they’ve checked in. “Come and help Mr and Mrs. Bennett with their bags.”

A tall, lean young man, who can’t be any older than twenty, rounds the corner. He’s handsome, with bright blue eyes, and mousy hair that’s slicked back beneath the cap of his black and grey bellboy uniform.

He gives her a tight lipped smile, the tips of his ears turning pink as he looks at her and she can’t help the way she preens at his flustered state.

Still got it.

“Second floor, Billy,” the receptionist tells him as he leans down to grab their suitcases, “room twenty six.”

Billy nods. “Right this way, please, Mr and Mrs. Bennett,” he says, directing them towards the lifts.

She can feel the bellboy’s gaze upon her in the tight confines of the elevator and smiles to herself. At least someone was appreciative of her.

He takes his leave, bidding them both a good evening once their luggage is deposited outside of their room door, and her and Tom are left alone once more.

Tom whistles low as they enter, flicking on the lights, and she feels pride swell in her chest that he’s impressed by the lavish surroundings. A shiver of excitement runs through her as her eyes move over the crisp white pillows and crimson duvet that adorn the bed, thinking that this might be where they’ll finally make love for the first time in a month.

It’s a beautiful room; lace curtains hang in the windows, ornate floral wallpaper decorates the walls, there’s a writing desk by the window, and a yellow velvet armchair is placed off to one side by the bed.

Turning back towards Tom, she steps towards him, sliding her hands up his chest, over his jacket. She smiles demurely up at him, her voice a soft purr. “So, Mr. Bennett, what shall we do now?”

“It’s been a long journey, love,” he tells her, taking one of her hands and brushing his lips against her knuckles. “Let’s just get some rest, yeah?”

“Oh…okay,” she nods, stepping back and looking away. She feels like she might cry, as disappointment weighs heavily upon her chest. This is not how she imagined their first night here would go at all.

As she lays in the darkness, listening to the strange sounds of the city, motor cars and loud voices, all seeping in through the closed window, she can’t seem to fall asleep. She turns her face towards Tom, who lays facing away from her, wondering if he’s awake too.

“Tommy?” She whispers.

“Yeah?” He whispers back.

She pauses a moment, and when she speaks again she’s unable to disguise the tremble of emotion in her voice. “Do…do you still love me?”

He rolls to face her then, and the devastation of what she’s implying is evident in the arch of his eyebrows and parting of his lips, illuminated by the light of the streetlamp that pours in through the lace curtains. She feels a lump in her throat, regretting having asked.

“Course I do,” he says earnestly, tugging her towards him, and she buries her face in his chest. He presses his lips to the crown of her head, rubbing her back. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’ve been letting you down.”

They stay like that for the rest of the night.

The next morning they sit in the hotel’s dining room for breakfast. Tom idly smokes a cigarette, a full English in front of him, while she butters her toast.

“Gonna go and see Lois today,” he tells her, taking a swig from his tea cup.

“I thought we’d arranged to visit her on Sunday?” She asks, frowning in confusion as she sets her knife down on her plate.

“We are,” Tom says, blowing smoke out through his nostrils - a gesture she has long since learned is a sign of irritation on his part. “But I’m gonna go see her today - alone.”

You’re going to start an argument, and then come back in a bad mood.

She sighs, folding her hands in her lap. “And what am I supposed to do?”

Tom shrugs. “Go to Carnaby Street, or whatever it was you were saying you wanted to do while we’re here.”

“Tommy, we’re supposed to do those things together, and I don’t wanna walk around London on my own!”

He nods, stubbing his cigarette out on the yolk of his fried egg, causing her to wrinkle her nose in disgust. He had barely touched his food, he never does anymore.

“Alright, look, I’m only gonna be gone a couple of hours, then we can do whatever you want. Why don’t you order some drinks for when I get back, and we can start our holiday properly?”

“You promise?” She asks with a small smile.

“Cross my heart,” he says, taking a final swig of his tea. He stands from the table and presses a kiss to her temple.

“And promise you won’t be horrible to Lois?”

“I’m not promising anything for that mardy cow,” he says, giving her a wink, before walking off.

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

Fuck’s sake, Tommy.

She goes back up to the room once she’s finished her breakfast, and takes a long, hot soak in the bath. Almost two hours have passed by the time she has her make-up finished and her hair curled. Dressed in lingerie and a satin robe, she is still deciding on an outfit when she realises Tom will be back soon and she hasn’t ordered their drinks.

Calling down to the hotel’s switchboard from the phone on the desk, she asks for a glass of white wine and a whisky to be sent up to the room. Ordinarily, Tom is a lager drinker, but she decides he deserves a treat as they’re on holiday.

Ten minutes later, there’s a knock at the door and the bellboy from yesterday stands on the other side, holding a tray with the drinks they’d ordered.

She smiles warmly, watching him blush as he bows his head and enters the room, setting the tray down on a nearby table.

“Thank you…Billy, wasn’t it?” She asks, cocking her head.

He presses his lips together in a tight smile, glancing at her before looking shyly away again. It’s clear her state of undress is having an effect on him. “Yes, Mrs. Bennett,” he says, clearing his throat and straightening, clasping his hands behind his back. “Will that be all?”

Excitement flutters in her lower belly. It’s been a long time since a man has reacted to her so bashfully, and she’s enjoying it. She isn’t ready to let Billy slip away just yet.

“No need to be so formal, sweetheart,” she coos, “you can call me by my first name.”

He shuffles from foot to foot, huffing a nervous laugh. “Sorry, Mrs…sorry…”

“How old are you, Billy?” She asks, stepping towards him.

“I’m twenty-one.”

Seven years my junior. Not as bad as I’d thought.

“Did you serve, Billy?”

“Yes,” he says with a proud smile. “I manned the anti aircraft guns at the barracks for three years.”

The sound of a key in the lock draws both their attention towards the door, as Tom walks through it. Just as she’d anticipated, his expression is sour. He’s argued with Lois. 

“I’ll leave you both to it,” Billy says, with a polite nod of his head.

She knows how this will play out. Billy will leave, and Tom will allow his bad mood to ruin their day, either by refusing to leave their hotel room, or simply sulking his way around London when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Opting to use the current situation to her advantage, she decides to be tactical, and give her husband a reminder of what he’s missing out on. If he sees another man flirting with his wife, perhaps it will snap him out of this.

“No need to be in such a hurry, Billy, we were just getting to know each other. Or do you have somewhere you need to be?”

Billy eyes Tom carefully as he walks past the both of them, taking the whisky from the tray on the desk and sipping from it.

“Well, my shift finishes in ten minutes,” he says distractedly, “so I s’pose I could–”

“Perfect,” she cuts him off, taking his arm and guiding him to sit next to her on the edge of the bed.

Tom remains silent, taking a seat in the armchair and placing his glass on the table next to it. His jaw is set, gaze dark. He only ever looks like this when he’s sparring for a fight, but if this is what it takes, then so be it.

“Do you have a sweetheart, Billy?” She asks softly, fingernails grazing his thigh, causing him to flush bright red.

“Er…well…” he removes his cap, keeping his gaze fixed on it as he turns it round in his hands. “There was a maid that worked here…Kate, her name was. I fancied her…really fancied her, but she moved back to Ireland to be with her family when the worst of the bombing hit.”

“Oh, you poor love,” she soothes, giving his hand a squeeze. “I expect a handsome lad like you has girls queuing up.”

The click of Tom’s lighter pulls their focus back to him, and he exhales a plume of smoke, staring intently at them both. “Do you fancy my wife?” He asks Billy, with a steely gaze.

Billy swallows thickly, eyes widening in panic as he opens and closes his mouth.

“It’s okay, Billy,” she says gently, “you don’t need to be shy.”

“Well…I hope you don’t mind me saying, Mrs��sorry…but I think you’re beautiful.”

This time it’s her turn to feel embarrassed, and she averts her gaze as she feels her skin grow warm.

“Yeah, she is beautiful isn’t she? Would you like to kiss her?” Tom asks, lifting his glass and taking a deep drink from it, his eyes never leaving Billy.

Her head snaps up, looking at her husband with wide eyed shock.

Why is he asking that?!

“Tommy…” she says hesitantly, an edge of warning in her tone.

“It’s fine, love,” he takes another drag of his cigarette, settling further into the armchair, observing the both of them. “Go on, kiss her.”

Returning her attention to Billy, he’s shuffled closer, looking at her questioningly.

“Is…is this okay?” He whispers, leaning in.

She nods, closing the gap and her lips meet his. He is hesitant at first. His kisses are not as forceful as Tom’s, his lips are softer. As she reaches up to cup his cheek, he seems to grow more confident, applying more pressure, a quiet hum of approval rumbling in his throat. It makes her core throb to be desired like this.

When they finally part for air, she is breathless and flustered. She looks straight to Tom. He sits, watching them casually, fingers wrapped around his glass in one hand, propped on the arm of the chair, his cigarette burning low between his forefingers in the other.

“Do you wanna touch her?” He asks Billy, a low, darkened edge to his voice.

“Yeah…yeah, I do,” Billy answers, sounding more poised than he had just moments before.

“Go on then,” Tom instructs, “brush your thumb over her nipple, she likes that.”

She gasps softly as Billy leans in again, capturing her lips with his own once more. A quiet moan escapes her as she feels his hand tentatively slip into the opening of her robe, his thumb swiping gently over the lace of her brassiere.

He is not as self assured as Tom, Billy’s touch is featherlight by comparison, but it’s been so long since someone has paid this kind of attention to her that she responds to it just the same. She arches against Billy, her tongue slipping into his mouth as she hears his cap drop to the carpet with a soft thud.

“You can fuck her, if you want to,” Tom rasps, and she glances over at him, as Billy’s desperate kisses move down her neck. His blue eyes are still dark, she’s no longer able to tell if it’s from anger or arousal, the two states look much the same when he wears them.

There’s a part of her mind that’s screaming at her that this is wrong, that they should stop. However, if this is what it takes to get Tom to notice her again, then she’ll do it, and selfishly she’s enjoying how it feels.

Billy pushes her back, and she goes willingly. “Are you sure this is okay?” He whispers, his voice betraying his nerves.

She nods, untying and opening her robe, to reveal the lacy lingerie set she wears beneath.

Billy draws in a sharp inhale, before hurriedly unfastening his belt and unzipping his trousers with shaky hands.

He freezes, looking at Tom. “I…I don’t have a sheath.”

“Don’t need one,” Tom replies nonchalantly, crushing his cigarette butt out in the ashtray. “Best not keep her waiting.”

She pulls the gusset of her knickers to one side as Billy hovers over her. She can feel she’s soaked already. Billy is not quite as girthy as Tom, but still an impressive size that causes her breath to catch in her throat as he starts to press inside.

Tom chuckles quietly from where he sits. “She’s tight, isn’t she? Tightest little pussy I’ve ever had. Go careful.”

His words cause her to ache with want, and she moans wantonly as Billy bottoms out with a grunt. He’s gentle, much more so than Tom would be, slowly withdrawing before pushing back in, a dusting of pink prominent across his cheekbones.

“You won’t break her,” Tom tells him, “can just imagine how wet and warm she feels. Fuck her harder, and wrap one of her legs around you. She goes mad for that.”

She cries out, white hot sparks of pleasure swirling in her gut as Billy does as he’s told, the shallow pants of his breath puffing hotly against the side of her face.

Turning her head, she looks at her husband and he smirks, eyes raking over the scene before him as Billy continues to rut into her.

“T–Tommy…” she moans.

With each push of Billy’s hips into hers, she can feel her climax building, she’s right on the precipice, but it seems Billy is too. He tenses, a groan escaping him.

“Don’t you dare come inside her,” snaps Tom.

As if on cue, Billy pulls out, making her whine at the loss, coating her thighs in his hot spend as his jaw slackens and his brow furrows.

Before she’s had a chance to recover, Tom is rising from his seat towards the bed. “You can go now,” he tells Billy.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Billy nods, clambering off of her and fastening his trousers and belt back up. He stoops to pick up his cap, before hurrying towards the door, followed by Tom.

She lays there, dumbfounded and breathless, through glassy eyes she watches Tom hand Billy a bank note. “You’ll not tell anyone about this, d’you understand?”

“Y–yes, sir.”

She hears the door click closed, and Tom walks back over to the bed. His pupils are blown wide with lust and it sends a shiver through her.

“Enjoy yourself, love?” He asks, grabbing her thighs and tugging her towards the edge of the mattress, making her squeal.

“Are you angry with me?” She asks quietly, feeling shame bloom heavily within her chest.

“No,” he says distractedly, attention focused on her core. His thumb swipes through the stickiness that’s been left on her thigh, spreading it slowly over her skin. “No, I’m not angry.”

“You’ve been so absent lately,” she says sadly, propping herself up on her elbows. “Just wanted your attention.”

He straightens, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, I get it. I’ve been neglecting you, and that’s my fault. But don’t worry, I won’t anymore. Now–”

She clenches around nothing as his hands move to his belt, and she hears the metallic clink of it opening. “Now you have my full attention, and I’m gonna make sure you get all of it.”

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Can confirm - Hunter!Simon and Werewolf!Reader is 30 pages (16.5k) unedited

[rand0msmil3z]

The first preview of Chasing Shadows, the sequel to Halcyon Days 🌸

If you haven't read Halcyon Days yet, you can find it below. Please mind the tags 💐

[meetmeatthecoda]

Halcyon by meetmeatthecoda Fandoms: The Blacklist (US TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Chapters: 7/7 (complete) Words: 117,335 Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington, Elizabeth Keen, Raymond Reddington, Agnes Keen, Dembe Zuma, Harold Cooper, Charlene Cooper, Alina Park, Donald Ressler, Aram Mojtabai, various OCs, Lizzington - Freeform, Agnesgate, AU, post-8.22, Fix-it fic, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Angst, Lots of Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, briefly, in the start of chapter 3, and an equally brief discussion of them in chapter 5, some sexual content, Nothing too explicit, and last but not least, no Redarina, no relation at all ever between red & liz, obviously

Summary:

Halcyon - adjective:

denoting a period of time in the past that was idyllically happy and peaceful.

noun:

a tropical Asian and African kingfisher with brightly colored plumage.

a mythical bird said by ancient writers to breed in a nest floating at sea at the winter solstice, charming the wind and waves into calm.

origin:

from Greek alkuōn ‘kingfisher’ (also halkuōn, by association with hals ‘sea’ and kuōn ‘conceiving’).

An AU post-8.22 fix-it fic, wherein Liz survives her shooting - unbeknownst to everyone - & flees the country in an effort to protect those dear to her, living a solitary, lonely existence on a loch in Scotland & coping with the only outlet she has, a hobby begun as a coping mechanism during a traumatic childhood & kept since then as a closely-guarded secret: art.

“As with all things in her life, it was born from fire.”

☕️ Buy Me a Coffee ☕️

🎶 Playlist below the cut! 🎶

Meant To Be by Ber & Charlie Oriain

Rockland by Gracie Abrams

Walking On The Moon by Ruelle

graves by Purity Ring

32 Floors by Lapsley

Rolling Like a Ball by Ludovico Einaudi

Brush Fire by Gracie Abrams

Much Too Much by Lennon Stella

You Hold Me Up by The Bones of J.R. Jones

As The World Caves In by Matt Maltese (cover by Sarah Cothran)

Men On The Moon by Chelsea Cutler

you broke me first by Tate McRae

Games by Lennon Stella

Save Us by Lennon Stella

Takeaway by The Chainsmokers, ILLENIUM feat. Lennon Stella

Best by Gracie Abrams

Where do we go now? by Gracie Abrams

Amelie by Gracie Abrams

85mm by Ludovico Einaudi

ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine

Through the Eyes of a Child by AURORA

Edge of the Dark by Emmit Fenn

Blinded by Emmit Fenn

Memories by Emmit Fenn

Spectrum by Andrew Belle

I Can’t Believe I Had You by Emmit Fenn

Far from Here by Emmit Fenn

In Between Breaths by SYML

Two people by Gracie Abrams

[fuckitwebhaal]

guy who doesn't ship durgetash voice: "i'm writing another durgetash fic"

and here's an excerpt because i've drafted 3k words for the night and probably won't finish until tomorrow, and then i have commissioned work to do besides.

Halcyon stared at his reflection in the pools of blood mired on the floor. He was just as red. He tensed as he felt the hands of the priests caress his skin, their tongues lapping at the ichor on his cheeks. Their murmured whispers in his ear about his unholiness, the sweet tang of the blood, how his guiding hand bid it spill. Halcyon was more curious about how the pool at his feet rippled with every move.

[jaguarys]

The first few weeks, the new one moves on autopilot.

Halcyon has seen it before. He's used to it, the ways in which their body moves while their brain is still waking up.

This one hadn't been dead for long. It made it easier, he was sure, to readjust.

He hadn't grown attached, not in the way Galatée had. He was all too used to following a lead their mother had set for them, only to abandon it once the timeline had changed too much, once it was no longer deemed important. Their mother's interest was like the sun and just as all-consuming, but as soon as it was pulled away it wouldn't return. And it had been centuries, after all. People didn't live that long, and points of interest didn't either.

Galatée was pleased to finally see results. She was glad to have another, or at least in the selfish ways they both were for company other than each other.

Halcyon couldn't quite say. In some small ways, he did find himself drawn to the newcomer.

They'd followed him so long. Halcyon was well past feeling in any small way guilty for interfering, pulling strings here and there to make sure this person was there, that person said that. If it led to Mother's goals, if it helped her, it was worth it.

And even still... Danaël was theirs. Perhaps he had not known them, but they knew him. It was a small reward, after all this, for him to know them.

Slowly, the newcomer woke. Slowly, he started to take it in.

>> 

Halcyon had been in their mother's service for so long, now, these thousands of years. He didn't remember what it had been like, to wake. He could hardly remember his death, after so much time.

He doesn’t know when he realized. When the fog cleared from his head enough to realize he didn’t quite know why this was so important, why Mother was so important, why he was following her at all.

The fog comes and goes. There are moments when it recedes, when it really and truly disappears and he hates it all. He had earned his death; he was, in the end, angry it had been taken from him.

Mother was an all-consuming force. She was their sun. They rotated around her like moons around a planet. Hiding anything from her, even just his own thoughts, felt blasphemous.

But he did. In some small corner of his mind, he hid the truth: that he still had thoughts at all.

He didn’t remember who he’d been. He wasn’t sure if any vestige, any tidbit of personality, any memory belonged to the man who’d died, or if like clay he’d been reshaped by his mother’s hands.

Suns can’t always shine. And so, slowly, over the centuries, he shaped his own clay and scraped together pieces of his mind.

He forgot much, after thousands of years. He always remembered Galatée, always remembered the thrill at having another. It was easier once she joined, pulled out of her grave same as he was his. Not just because Mother’s attention was divided—though that counted for plenty.

It took nearly a hundred years for her to pull out of her fugue. It took even longer for the two of them to realize they were the same.

Fighting their own brains was difficult enough, the compulsion to submit, follow, love. Mother was as much themselves as they were, pouring into each nerve and orifice and pulsing in their blood. There was hardly any space for each other, but they carved it out of themselves.

It was exchanged near silently, hideous, blasphemous words whispered against cold, undead skin. Lips pressed to cheeks in moments stolen between missions. Promises their minds were, in some small way, their own and each other’s as much as they were Mother’s. Promises her love was not all-consuming.

Slowly, in their orbits, they circled one another as much as their sun.

>> 

Galatée never gave up hope they would find a way out. She never said as such—that was much too far. But he knew, much as anything real they knew was silent.

Maybe that was why she took such a shine to Danaël. Maybe she hoped if he was the answer to Mother, he could be the answer to them, too.

He’d had thousands of years to hope, and he wasn’t the type for it, anyways. He didn’t dare. He didn’t dare think Danaëlwas the answer to anything at all.

>> 

Asgaroth was always different from the rest. That does not mean Halcyon didn't love him, much as he loved Galatée, much as he would come to love Danaël.

Maybe some part of him always knew Asgaroth was not real. He never truly knew, not logically, not as such. But his instincts knew.

Halcyon never spoke with Asgaroth in the ways he did with Galatée. He never trusted him in the same ways. He never bared his matching soul.

He never spoke the truth.

Maybe he knew. Maybe he just wanted to pretend he didn’t. It was much easier to love someone who wasn’t there than admit they weren’t.

>> 

It takes nearly a year until Halcyon is sure Danaëlis really, truly awake.

It’s new. It’s exciting. It’s been centuries since they’ve had another. No matter that skin is cold, clammy, undead. No matter the eyes are only just starting to feel like they belong to a real person. No matter Mother’s hold is stronger on their newest. He still belongs to them.

He hadn’t realized, the way that lack had grated. It had been the same, with Galatée, with Asgaroth. He never really notices how much he hates the absence until it's gone, like a leftover sort of pain, like an old wound.

The Dynaméis are limbs of a body, Mother's hands. They're parts of an entity. Their minds are facets of her own.

Halcyon stretches into Danaël like exploring a newly healed limb.

>> 

And he’s different. From the very beginning, he’s different. Or so Galatée says, anyways. Halcyon thinks it may just be confirmation bias and more of that damned hope.

At the corners of Halcyon's mind, he feels shiny, smooth, like the gold of their weapons and the glow of the halos above their heads.

He feels like surfacing after a dive, like suddenly clear vision after thousands of years. He feels like seaglass. He feels like polished marble.

Mother's influence feels even more stifling in comparison, newly suffocating in ways it already was before.

And maybe they grow too bold. Soon after they're sure he's fully there, Galatée starts pressing.

At first, it’s ignored. For nearly too long, nearly long enough that Halcyon’s almost convinced her to give it up before she catches Mother’s attention.

And then it's there. Then, Halcyon feels it, the subtle brush across his mind, Danaël's cold and gentle hand.

Danaël is theirs, much as anything can be theirs and not Mother's. Slowly, thought by thought, they steal him away.

>> 

            They tell Danaël, in stops and starts and whispers shared between them in every hidden moment, about it all. About Mother’s hands woven in the tapestry of his life.

            It is, of course, hard. Their minds are not meant to accept anything against her. None of them want to remember the truth.

            And so they repeat it. Over and over. Through hands in hands, through interlocked fingers, through whispers murmured in the night, they repeat it.

            Touch is theirs. Touch belongs to them. Even when their thoughts are stolen, when their hands are stolen, when their lives and deaths are stolen. And they give it.

>> 

Then comes the exodus.

As they get closer, Halcyon feels the tendrils curl tighter and tighter, feels Mother’s influence creep in even more. He feels his mind slipping away from him, devotion, love, obedience replacing any rational thought.

Halcyon is under no naïveté that it's anything than the last pieces sliding into the puzzle. He wishes they had any puzzle at all. He wishes they weren't pieces on Mother's game of chess. He wishes he wasn't merely a pawn cast off the board as soon as he was no longer of use.

He wishes, paradoxically, that they’d had more time. He wishes it weren’t nearing the end, now that it is.

[icyfox17]

Little bit of halcyon crimeboys for the 'blr

Tags under the cut !!

@ghosts-and-blue-sweaters @jiksvokrat 🫶🫶

[biff-adventurer]

today i met tiny chris

poor wean's da got et by a 'bon. now he wants 'em all dead. wiv' crossy eyes like them as drawed in the picture shows. dinnae get et and ye might be his new da.

he actually made me think about two things - the npcs/people we've helped along the way, and the writing of accents.

it's no secret i gave biff this accent - it tells you he ain't a city slicker but rather a rural boy, it tells you his folks ain't got a lotta money (at least, one would think), and it associates him with a specific cultural/ethnic profile (gaelic, i know/studied a little more about irish than scots so i lean irish)

i think we should, as a society, be wary of continuing to associate class with specific ethnic communities, but i'm not learned enough to make a post dedicated to my specific thoughts on that (yet? tbd)

mostly, i think it's important to look at the way characters speak as a vehicle of writing. when you write a character's accent, is it useful for what you're trying to establish in the scene? is the noble supposed to fail to understand the vernacular of his server? is it useful if the character is always going to say "dinnae" instead of "do not"? when dealing with non-western characters with accents, how far is it okay to go until the dialogue goes from representation to racist charicature?

writers have the power of flexibility. writing is about persuasion more than anything else, and we should remember to persuade our audiences that these are people. they aren't real, so don't bother with "realistic" - but they represent real ideas, concepts and associations in our world. it's important to be careful what you do with these, intended or not! and if you make an oopsie? acknowledge, accept and continue on your journey to being your best.

my preferences for writing accents based on my experiences, observations and education lean thus:

pick and choose what words require emphasis. if the whole sentence requires it, then so be it! but make conscious choices. words weigh differently, and they carry double the weight when they're written out to represent an accent. just really think about whether or not this is the point you want to say to, t', ta, or tae. the whole sentence doesn't need to be written out phonetically b/c avoiding doing that helps us steer clear of reiterating caricatures.

include culturally specific verbiage. "what's the craic" or "how's it hangin'" depending on who your character is. in india, lots of people greet each other with religious phrases (in english, it'd sound like saying "god is good"/"good is god" call and response) - so a thavnairian character could say anything between "sisters be with you" to "mindhurva guide your path today" (and also yours, brother/sister). but also: wain, wean, child, sweetling,

be careful which non-english words your character uses. i don't call it chai tea latte, i call it chai latte. my wife doesn't call it green tea latte, but matcha latte. i actually don't drink chai latte, i drink chai. but i call it both chai and tea interchangeably; so, when i want someone to know how to prepare my tea, i might ask for chai instead of tea. because with chai, you get half or whole base milk instead of water. you get dried ginger or an array of spices depending on the auntie. with tea, you get dried up leaves and some hot water. big difference for me.

above all, make sure it's legible most of the time. you can do this by avoiding writing a character's accent out completely phonetically. this isn't to say "conform your character to what people think they should talk like". this is about being aware that writing implies an audience. if you want your writing to connect with people, the important parts should be clearly communicated in the text. especially if you're writing in english. if i wanted my characters to speak hindi, why would i bother writing the story in english at all? you want people to see your character a specific way. write them the way you hope they'll be seen--if you've done a good enough job, it will lead to so much joy and satisfaction. if you haven't--it's back to the drawing board! but you get the chance to learn even more.

[ddelline]

halcyon (and on and on) 2/3

work: halcyon (and on and on) fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | my hero academia rating: M relationship(s): bakugō katsuki/midoriya izuku character(s): ensemble cast (tagged on ao3) tags: post-canon | characters are pro heroes | getting together | slow burn | mha manga spoilers | aged-up character(s) | canon-typical violence

summary work:

Life began as a massive explosion, a blinding light. In contrast, Katsuki’s demise begins with a flour streaked counter, wilting green onions, and a bloodied kitchen towel. or: Katsuki falls in love, wages a war, and learns how to unearth a forest from behind trees without resorting to large-scale arson.

summary chapter:

Izuku looks like he’s also about to throw up—palms sweaty, knees weak, arms heavy. At least they’re leveling with each other. Yeah, Katsuki thinks, aced the reverse-jackpot. That’s the thing though, funnily enough: he may prefer being one-shotted in the chest by a supervillain to this pour your heart out in your hands and offer it up to the one person who’s sitting on the ability to completely fucking destroy it-routine—that doesn’t mean he’s a fucking coward.

ch 02 | the war | here

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 12: It Doesn’t Need to Mean Anything

You and Joel take Sarah to the concert. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 11, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Joel and Goldie are still morons. Also... mild smut 🫠 Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 10.7K (no one look at me)

A/N: So much thanks to my beautiful bestie @dundienominee, official Swiftie Consultant for this chapter. She was integral to song selection and Eras Tour outfit choices because I am too casual of a fan to have the knowledge to do that well. Thank you thank you thank you for this and for always letting me bounce the angstiest shit off you, Bestie! Love you!!

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

You stopped sleeping over at Joel’s. 

The distance took more adjustment than you’d expected and it wasn’t something either of you had explicitly stated, it just felt… necessary. You were getting too close to Joel - not something you would have even considered possible, once upon a time - and you needed to pull back before you ended up wounded and alone like you’d been more than a decade earlier. 

He began separating from you that night, when his hand was still holding your face and your body was still tight against his. You kissed him until he pulled away - not wanting it to end - and when he finally broke the kiss, your faces stayed close together for a moment, close enough that your noses touched and you could see the reflection from the sparks of the fireworks in his eyes. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the heat of his palm at the small of your back, the roughness of the callus under his fingers at the nape of your neck. If someone had asked you, in that moment, where you were, you couldn’t have told them. 

And then a gunshot cracked through the air, making the both of you jump and shock away from each other. 

“Fuckin’ assholes,” Joel snapped, looking around as though there was anyone else around you at the water’s edge to blame. “Shit’s dangerous and there are still idiots who decide to shoot guns in the air just because the goddamn calendar changed, fuckin’ morons…” 

There were a few feet between you now and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were in pajama pants and a long sleeved t-shirt and your nipples were pricked from the cold and the kiss and probably visible through the thin cotton. You crossed your arms over your chest, hoping Joel hadn’t noticed. 

“At least we’re in the middle of nowhere,” you said. “Less chance of the bullet falling on a person…” 

“Still,” he muttered, crossing his arms too. “Makes me nervous. Dumbasses like that should have their guns taken away, don’t act right…” 

You tightened your jaw but nodded, still watching him. 

“Sorry,” he said. You weren’t sure why. “We should probably get back inside, though. Gotta get the kid to bed, she’s cranky if she don’t get enough sleep….” 

“Can’t have a cranky Sarah,” you smiled a little. 

Joel looked at you for a moment and, for a delusional second, you half expected him to kiss you again. Then, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his flannel pants and rocked back on his heels once before starting up the hill toward the house. For the first few steps, he walked to the side almost as much as he did forward, until there was a good five feet between the two of you. You ignored the pang of hurt inside your chest and gave him a tight smile as he held the back door open for you, finding Tommy and Sarah on their feet and yelling at the TV as they raced in Mario Kart. 

He sat as far from you as he could at breakfast the next morning, taking the spot beside Sarah and across from Tommy at the kitchen table and pressing himself against the wall in the hallway when you ran into him there and needed past, making sure your body didn’t so much as brush against his the rest of the holiday weekend. 

When you went back to normal life, it reminded you of the few days after Joel had accidentally seen your shirtless selfie: radio silence. 

This time, you refused to crack first. If he regretting kissing you, that was on him. It wasn’t like you’d begged him to. Hell, you hadn’t even asked him to. He’d offered - after kissing you out of the blue just the day before no less - and now he couldn’t even look at you. Or text you, apparently. 

But you were starting to get a few steps beyond anxious when you still hadn’t heard from him by Friday afternoon. You hadn’t spent a weekend without Joel since you’d found each other again. You weren’t really sure what to do with yourself if you weren’t with Joel. Even though there was definitely a book you should be writing, doing that when you weren’t sure where you stood with your best friend seemed impossible. 

Still determined to not be the first one to reach out but not willing to face the prospect of being alone in your house with your cat - and with the temptation to call your almost ex-husband who actually had texted you since you’d last seen him - you got on Tinder. 

You swiped during a break between classes after triple checking that your age parameters wouldn’t catch any students, largely striking out until you found Stephen’s profile. He was a professor, too, but at Austin Community College. There was a picture of him in Napa Valley in his profile and one of him with a little girl (one he said was his niece) sitting on his shoulders. You smiled at that. You didn’t think you’d ever have children - though, really, you wanted some - but there was something about knowing a man was good with kids… 

You swiped right and got the alert that it was a match. He’d already swiped on you. Your heart sped up a little. Maybe you weren’t completely undatable, after all. 

Stephen messaged you just a few minutes later. 

Hi! How’s your Friday? 

You were working on typing a reply when another message popped up. 

Not to be a creep but… are you really who you say you are? 

You frowned at your phone for a moment. 

Hi back! It’s alright for the first Friday of a new semester. How about you? And yes, the last time I checked. Why?

It took him a little longer to respond that time. 

Let me know if I’m failing on the creep front but I may be what you call a fan. 

You laughed once. 

A fan? 

A fan. Your writing is brilliant, I can’t help it. 

Well, I have good editors. 

I’m sure you do but editors only get you so far. Trust me, I teach the intro English classes, I know. 

You laughed again and the two of you messaged back and forth until you had to go teach your last class of the day. When you finished, you checked your phone before leaving the lecture hall and there was a message waiting for you. 

I hope this isn’t too fast but can I take you out tomorrow? I’m sure you already have plans but on the off chance you don’t… 

You smiled. 

No plans that don’t involve my cat. What did you have in mind? 

Stephen, as it happened, had plenty in mind.

After getting a drink and chatting for a bit, he took you to salsa dancing night, something you’d never had thought to do yourself in a million years. The music was loud, the room was crowded and the energy of it all made your skin pebble as you smiled. 

“C’mon,” he held his hand out to you. “Let’s dance.” 

“Oh, no,” you waved him off. “I can’t.” 

“I’ll show you,” he smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” 

He led you to a quiet corner of the dance floor and showed you the most basic steps and you let him guide you through it as you watched your feet and tried not to step on his toes. By the end, you were laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe and he was laughing, too, putting an arm around your shoulders and guiding you to a booth in the corner. 

Stephen got you a cocktail and settled in across from you, the two of you talking about the semester so far and books and your favorite places to travel. 

You were surprised to find that you were having… well, fun. You hadn’t really had fun out with someone who wasn’t Joel in so long the concept seemed almost foreign to you. And Stephen was smart, you had shared interests, he was sweet and funny and insightful. You liked him. 

But… he wasn’t Joel. 

That was the thought you were trying to shake when he left you alone at the table, excusing himself to the bathroom and to grab another round of drinks and you decided to check your phone. 

Gale had texted you, seeing if you wanted to get coffee. Like the last few texts he’d sent, you didn’t respond. You knew, if you did, you’d end up back in his bed and you’d never be able to move on from him, not really. Hell, you’d let yourself become the other woman while he carried on with your younger, prettier, thinner replacement, keeping her on his arm at every faculty event and book release he used to bring you to while fucking you on the side. A mistress to your own husband. Pathetic.

But the temptation to respond was still there. If there was one man besides Joel who’d been able to hold your attention, it was Gale. When you’d met him, you hadn’t been sure you’d ever recover from loving Joel. It seemed like he would be there, as some part of you, forever. And that was true, he never really left. It was more that you seemed to find room inside yourself to love someone who wasn’t Joel. You realized now that it hadn’t been able to love him as much as you did Joel - or even, really, in the same way - but you did love him. That, now that you were faced with the intensity of how Joel seemed to take hold of you, seemed miraculous. You didn’t expect to find that feeling again so easily.

You looked toward the bathrooms, where you knew Stephen had disappeared to. Stephen, the man who you had every reason to have feelings for, who had taken you out for a great date, who could be someone that could pull you out of this hideous pattern with Joel and Gale if you just gave him the chance. 

You sighed and closed your texts just as a new one came through, this one from Joel. 

Your heart stuttered. You hadn’t heard from him in so long that just seeing his name hit you hard. You glanced up. Stephen was just coming out of the men’s room and heading for the bar. 

You opened the text. 

This radio silence shit sucks. 

You scoffed a little. 

You started it. 

He responded immediately. 

You at home? Come over. Sarah’s about to go to bed, we can watch the next Curtis and Viper commentary in the marathon. 

Sorry, I can’t tonight. 

You looked up to the bar again, Stephen still waiting to talk to the bartender. By the time you looked back down at your phone, Joel had texted back. 

Why not? Puck will behave for a few hours, promise. 

You frowned. 

Believe it or not, I’m not home with my cat on a Saturday night. 

Bullshit.

Is not. I’m on a date, actually. I do have a life outside of you, you know. 

Stephen was just getting to the bar to order when your phone screen lit up, Joel sticking his tongue out at you taking over the whole of it as he called you. 

You sighed and answered it. 

“Hi.” 

“Who the fuck are you on a date with?” Joel demanded. “It had better not be fucking Brad…” 

“So good to hear from you,” you said. “How have you been for the past, I don’t know, WEEK.” 

“Five days. Answer the question, Goldie,” he said. “Are you out with your goddamn husband?” 

“No,” you rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “I’m out with a guy named Stephen, he’s very nice actually…” 

“Who the fuck is Stephen?” 

“I met him on Tinder, thank you very much,” you said. 

“What?” Joel said and you could picture him leaning forward on his couch, his elbow on his knee. “Wait, when? I didn’t vet some fucker named Stephen…” 

“You don’t get to vet people when you don’t talk to me for a week,” you hissed into the phone, glancing at the bar to see Stephen paying for the drinks. “Besides, I don’t need you to review my damn dates like some kind of baby sitter…” 

“Five days. And you have shit taste in men,” he cut you off. “So yeah, you do.” 

“Yeah, well, when you ghost me…” 

“I didn’t fuckin’ ghost you!” 

“When you GHOST me for a week…” 

“Five days!” 

“…you don’t get to judge me for my life choices!” 

“I didn’t ghost you,” he snapped. “I thought we could both use a little space…” 

“Uh huh.” 

“And I didn’t think you’d do something stupid when I left you unsupervised for 30 goddamn seconds!” 

“OK this isn’t stupid,” you said. “He’s a nice guy, he’s an English professor who likes wine and has actually asked me questions about myself…” 

“Look at you go.” 

“Fuck off,” you said, watching as Stephen headed back to the table with drinks. “He’s coming back, I have to go.” 

“No, hold on…” 

“Bye!” 

You hung up and slapped the phone face down on the table with a little too much force as Stephen smiled, setting your cocktail in front of you. 

“If that’s a friend calling to get you out of this, I promise I won’t give you a hard time,” he said, a slightly teasing edge to his voice. 

“No,” you laughed. “Well, I mean, it is a friend but no, not calling to get me out of it. Just a friend with a history of just the worst timing and a total inability to read the room.”

“She sounds great,” he laughed back. 

You didn’t correct him on the gender, instead just laughing with him and taking a sip of your drink.

The two of you closed the bar down and went to Waffle House after, sitting on opposite sides of the booth so you could stretch out and put your feet up as you pushed your syrup soaked chocolate chip waffle around on your plate. 

“So,” you said as you watched Stephen from across the table. “Not to put a damper on things but… I feel like you should know that I’m not looking for anything too serious right now…” 

“Oh,” Stephen frowned a little. “Can… Can I ask why?” 

“My life is kind of complicated at the moment?” You said it more like a question, as though the difficulties were somehow negotiable. “My divorce isn’t finalized yet, my sister is pregnant and I’m her only support system, I have a book deadline later this year…” I can’t stop thinking about kissing my best friend. You didn’t say that. “I don’t feel like I can really be a great partner to anyone right now. But I would like someone I can have fun with when I can? If you’re OK with that?” 

He nodded slowly, looking at his mug of coffee for a moment. 

“Do you know how long it’s going to be complicated?” He asked. “Just… Cards on the table, I already really like you. I don’t want to get in over my head here.” 

“Another few months at least,” you said. “But not forever. At least, I hope not forever.” 

He nodded again, turning his mug slowly on the table and you watched as the handle went back and forth. 

“I can handle a few months,” he said eventually, looking over at you. 

You smiled a little, wishing that him saying that made your heart pick up the way it did when Joel touched you. 

“Good,” you said. “Me too.” 

When the two of you left the restaurant, he went to kiss you goodbye but you dodged it, kissing him on the cheek instead. By the time you were home, you had a flurry of texts from Joel, the last one demanding to know when you made it home safely. 

I’m home, you control freak. 

It was so late you didn’t expect a response but one came through anyway as you stood at your bathroom sink taking off your makeup. 

Glad you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere. 

Why are you still up? Go to BED! 

I can’t sleep if I know you’re out there with some random! 

You rolled your eyes. 

Well now that you know no one has stuffed me in the trunk of their car… 

I’ll try to care less in the future. 

“Jesus,” you muttered to yourself as Joel texted again. 

Lunch tomorrow? 

Tomorrow Sunday or tomorrow Monday? You wrote. It’s after midnight.

Lunch Sunday, he said stop being a dick.

You laughed a little at that. At least things weren’t that different, even if you wished they were. 

Lunch the next day felt normal, even as Joel demanded to see Stephen’s Tinder profile and look at some of his messages. Most things went back to normal after that, too. Everything except for the sleepovers. 

But now that you were getting ready to leave for Dallas for the concert, you were nervous. You had one hotel room, a small suite the two of you had picked out together, one with two beds in the bedroom and a pull out sofa in the living room. When you were booking the trip, it made sense. Sarah could sleep in a bed with either of you or in the living room on her own and either way, you and Joel wouldn’t be beholden to the bedtime of an 11-year-old. It’s not like you needed space from each other then. 

Now, things felt different. It had been three months since you’d last shared a room with Joel. The casual intimacy that had existed between you had evaporated like mist and you wondered if it had always been a causal, ephemeral thing even when it had felt so grounding. 

At least, you thought, you’d have the separate beds. You’d booked the room before sharing a bed was quite so commonplace in your friendship. At least you wouldn’t need to be quite that close to him knowing how he felt about it. That was a comfort. 

And you were looking forward to some distance from your sister. Now that she was getting closer to her due date, you were together all the time. From lamaze classes to parenting seminars to going with her to AA and NA meetings as moral support, you were with Anna more now than you had been since the two of you were girls and it was summer vacation and you had nothing else to do. 

“I swear to God that one old mom thinks we’re a couple,” she snickered as the two of you got pancakes after a lamaze class one day. 

“What?” You gaped at her. “Ew!” 

“Oh, for sure,” she said, reaching over and stealing a piece of bacon off your plate. You glared at her and she shrugged. “What? I’m eating for two.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“But she definitely thinks we’re lesbians,” she continued. “She was giving me the stink eye before you came in today. I think she thinks you’re the scary one, by the way, because she definitely stopped when you got there.” 

“Jesus,” you shuddered. “Wrong on so many levels. One, you’re my baby sister and that’s just gross. Two, you are definitely the scary one.” 

“Oh, for sure,” Anna nodded seriously and then laughed. “Besides, if you were my girlfriend I definitely wouldn’t be letting you run off with some old flame for the weekend…” 

“Joel is not an old flame,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Sure,” she said in a teasing tone. “And Stephen is fine with this?” 

“Stephen doesn’t get a say in what I do,” you replied. “We’re just seeing each other now and then, he’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Whatever you say,” she said, giving you a look that you weren’t sure you wanted to deal with. 

You hadn’t told her about the kiss with Joel. You hadn’t told her about losing your virginity to Joel before you left for college, either. But somehow, she seemed to know. Your sister, for all the distance you’d forced and all the troubles she’d had, just knew. 

And that made you more nervous than you should have been for spending the weekend away. 

But you packed a bag - featuring a costume for the concert picked from your closet by Sarah - and headed for Joel’s, Puck in his little cat carrier on your passenger seat. 

“Aunt Goldie!” Sarah rocketed out of the house, her curls flying as she ran for your car. “It’s here! We’re really going!” 

“We are!” You said with a laugh, catching her as she threw herself at you. Joel followed behind her, getting your duffle from the back seat. 

“Did you remember your outfit?” She asked, pulling back and looking up at you with wide eyes. 

“I absolutely did,” you smiled at her before looking at her dad. “Hey Joel.” 

“Goldie,” he gave you a nod. “You ready for this?” 

“For a road trip with my favorite kid?” You asked. “Absolutely.” 

You got Puck settled at Joel’s - his neighbors, the Adlers, promising to look in on both cats while you were away - and got loaded into Joel’s truck, a bag of snacks and cooler of drinks sitting next to Sarah in the back seat. 

“We’re listening from the start of the discography,” she said, leaning forward and grabbing the input for her phone. “We need to make sure we know all the eras before we get there.” 

Joel looked like he was trying not to laugh. 

“Whatever you say, baby girl.” 

It was easy to fall into life with Sarah and Joel, even just for the few hours in the truck. Sarah dramatically performing into an imaginary microphone in the back seat, Joel reminding her to buckle back in every time she undid her seatbelt for a particularly big dance move. You stopped in West for pastries and chocolate milk and, by the time you pulled into the hotel on Friday evening, the three of you were a little hopped up on sugar and in desperate need of real food. 

“Oh this place is fancy,” Sarah said, a mocking and overwrought English accent on the last word as you looked around the lobby. 

“Well, needed a room with space for the three of us…” Joel said, voice trailing off as he looked for the check in counter before spotting it. “Don’t go wanderin’ off, alright? I’ll get us checked in, we can drop the bags and figure out something besides junk for dinner…” 

“But I like junk” Sarah said. 

“Yeah, I know you do,” he said before looking to you. “Keep her out of trouble, will you?” 

“Bold of you to assume she’d be the problem.” 

“Knew you’d be trouble,” he smirked a little before going to get in the check in line. 

You stuck close to Sarah, who was using the short wall of the lobby garden as a balance beam as she worked out the pent up energy from the hours spent in the car. 

“How many songs do you think she’ll sing?” Sarah asked after the spun on the end of the wall, her sneakers squeaking on the polished stone. 

“I dunno,” you said. “Probably a lot since the concert is a few hours long.” 

“I don’t want to see spoilers but my friends keep sending videos,” she said. “I haven’t watched any of them, I want to see it all in person.” 

She did a jump like she was imitating a gymnast, making you instinctively reach for her, trying to hide your hiss of fear as she landed smoothly on the narrow wall. She looked at your worried expression and laughed. 

“Please be careful,” you said as she started walking the wall again. “If you get yourself killed I’ll have to go through the hassle of selling these tickets online…” 

Sarah snorted. 

“You’d miss me,” she said, teasing. 

“That too,” you smiled a little before looking toward the check in counter. Joel was at the front now but he looked to be in deep conversation with the man behind the desk. You frowned. “Stay put, kiddo.” 

“Keep jumping on the wall, got it.” 

You shot Sarah a glare before heading for the desk. 

“No, that’s not going to work,” Joel was saying. “I booked the room I booked for a reason, I need two beds…” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller,” the man said. “I’m afraid we’re completely full this weekend and this is the only room I can put you in…” 

“What’s happening?” You asked, eyebrows knitting together and looking between them. 

“They don’t have the room we picked,” Joel said, eyes darting quickly to you, almost like he was afraid to look at you. “They only have rooms with one bed…” 

“Wait, what?” You looked at the man behind the counter. “Seriously? We have a confirmation number, we…” 

“I know, and I apologize,” he said. “With the concerts, we’re booked solid this weekend and there must have been a mixup with an earlier check in. I can’t move someone who’s already checked in. I already looked at our sister property across town but they’re completely full, too…” 

Joel looked at you, his eyes a little wider than you were used to seeing them. Almost like he was going to panic at just the thought of sharing a bed with you. 

“We can make it work, right?” You said, watching him. “I mean… it’s not that bad, is it?” 

“Right,” Joel said. “Yeah, you’re right…” 

He turned back to the man. 

“I guess we’ll take it,” he said. “Three keys, please.” 

Your stomach knotted a little. You knew the situation was less than ideal, that the two of you had been actively avoiding that level of contact in the months since the new year, but it’s not as though you’d never shared a bed. Was kissing you really so bad that Joel was on the verge of a panic at the thought of sleeping next to you for two nights? 

Maybe it was. Maybe you hadn’t fully understood his level of disgust at it.

You weren’t stupid, after all. You knew what he thought about kissing you. And if you hadn’t already known, you knew for sure when you overheard him talking to Tommy about it. 

“It was a mistake,” he’d said when he thought you couldn’t hear. “It won’t happen again, I’m done doing stupid shit with her and then regretting it…” 

Being close to you - touching you - was stupid shit. Even under the guise of friendship it was stupid shit. That had stung. 

It shouldn’t have.

You’d known he felt that way, you had for years. It shouldn’t have made your chest tighten and your stomach turn the way it did. He’d made it clear - since the first time the two of you had ever done anything physical - that it was a mistake. You weren’t about to risk losing him by pressing it, no matter how much you wanted to scream that he was the one who kissed you, not the other way around.

But, you supposed, it didn’t really matter. If he didn’t want you that close to him, you weren’t about to force it on him. He was still happy enough to be your friend, even if he didn’t want to sleep next to you anymore. That was fine. You could live with that. And you could share a bed with him for a weekend without blurring that line again. 

Joel got the keys and you got Sarah from her makeshift balance beam before heading up to the room. He shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot on the elevator ride up and you tried to keep from grinding your teeth as Sarah bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet, shooting off like a rocket the second the doors opened. 

“Room 1521!” Joel called after her as she took off down the hall. “Jesus, I swear that kid has the energy to power a small city…” 

She beat you there and Joel handed her a key and Sarah did the honors of letting you into the room. 

“Oh cool!” She squealed, running in. “I get the couch bed right?” 

“Uh…” Joel’s eyes darted to you. 

“There’s a TV by it!” She ran to it. “Oh and the fridge is in this room! This one’s mine!” 

You just shrugged at him and he sighed. 

“Sure is, baby girl,” he said. “You wanna get changed before we go get something to eat?” 

“Nope!” She said, kicking off her shoes and jumping from couch cushion to couch cushion. “But if we get back early enough, can we go swimming?” 

“Sure,” Joel said. “Give me n’Goldie a minute and we’ll head out…” 

You gave Joel a tight smile and led the way to the bedroom. 

The bed, at least, was a king sized one, bigger than yours or Joel’s at home. You could keep to your separate sides of it well enough. 

“I’ll take the side by the door,” he said. You were about to protest - that was the right side of the bed and he always slept on the left - but kept your mouth shut. You didn’t have a side of the bed with Joel. Or, you shouldn’t, anyway. “Did you need to change?” 

“Just out of these leggings,” you said. “I only need a minute.” 

“Right,” he said. “I gotta use the bathroom anyway, so…” 

He stood there, awkward, for a moment before heading to the attached bathroom. You set your bag on the long, low dresser and unzipped it, rifling around for a moment until you found your jeans. You peeled off your leggings and folded them up, setting them beside your bag when your phone started vibrating in your jacket pocket. 

You frowned. You almost never got phone calls. You pulled your phone out and saw Anna’s ID picture and you answered quickly. 

“Anna?” You said, heart racing. “Is everything OK? Are you OK? Is the baby OK?” 

“What?” She asked. “Yeah, everything’s fine, why wouldn’t it be?” 

You relaxed a little. 

“You just don’t usually call,” you said. “What’s up?” 

“Oh,” she laughed. “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean freak you out. I just got an email from the OBGYN, they need to move my scan next week, can you do Wednesday afternoon?” 

“Is Thursday an option?” You asked. “I have more afternoon classes on Wednesdays…” 

“You decent?” Joel called from the other side of the bathroom door. 

“Looks like they have Thursday,” Anna said. 

“Hang on!” You called to Joel, still standing there in your pale pink satin panties, before turning your attention back to Anna. “Thursday is better, just let me know a time and I can adjust some office hours.” 

“Great!” She said. “I’ll text you the details. Have fun at the concert!” 

You were about to say your goodbyes when the bathroom door opened and, suddenly, you were standing there in your underwear in front of your best friend. 

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, Joel’s eyes wide and ranging over you as you stood, frozen with your phone clutched to the side of your head. 

“Sorry!” Joel said quickly, turning around as you scrambled to hang up the phone and cover yourself. 

“I said hang on!” You said, grabbing your jeans. Joel glanced back over his shoulder before whipping his head back around. 

“I thought you said come on!” He said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…” 

“It’s fine,” you said, jumping into the pants as quickly as you could, trying to wrestle the denim quickly over the swell of your ass before buttoning them. “There, you’re safe.” 

“Sorry,” he said again, turning around cautiously. As though you were a grenade that might explode if he caught a glimpse of your bared skin. “I wasn’t trying… I’m sorry.” 

“I said it’s fine,” you grabbed your purse. “Let’s get something besides junk food in Sarah otherwise I’m sure we’re going to pay for it later.” 

“Right,” he nodded. “Let’s go.” 

Joel was still tense next to you at dinner and you damn near chugged a glass of wine in the hopes it would help untie the knot in your stomach. 

Thankfully, you’d brought beer in the cooler from Austin and you grabbed two of them - putting the cans in koozies to cover the labels - when taking Sarah to the pool after dinner. The two of you sat and watched her play with other girls who, you assumed, were also in town for the concert. 

Joel relaxed a little then, just the two of you tucked into a corner of the hot tub with a beer in his hand. 

“Who knew I’d feel so old at 33,” he groaned a little, leaning his head back so it rested on the edge of the hot tub. “Just drove a few hours and I’m already wonderin’ how I’m gonna keep up with her tomorrow.” 

“We do have to keep her busy most of the day,” you smiled a little, watching as she lined up at the edge of the deep end of the pool next to three other girls. They jumped in one by one, each girl doing some kind of dramatic twist or funny hand gesture as they fell toward the water, shrieking and laughing as they came up for air. “It’s going to be a challenge.” 

“Thanks for doin’ this,” he said, tone more serious as he looked at you. “It really does mean a lot. We don’t have a lot of people, always felt like I’ve let her down by not having more. I’m glad she’s got someone else who cares about her, you know?” 

You smiled a little. 

“Of course I care about her,” you said. “She means the world to me. You both do.” 

His eyes traced your face and your heart beat a little faster in spite of yourself. 

“Hey Dad!” Sarah called, pulling you away from each other. “Aunt Goldie! Watch this!” 

“We’re watchin’!” Joel called back. 

Sarah looked to her new friend - a girl who looked to be about her age with red hair in a braid down her back - and they gave each other a nod before running for the edge of the pool and jumping for the water, the girls twisting in the air to slap each other’s hands before they splashed down. You laughed and clapped as they surfaced, Sarah beaming. 

“Looks great, baby girl,” Joel said. “But no runnin’ by the pool, just like at home. It’s not safe.” 

Sarah rolled her eyes as she swam to the side of the pool and going back to her new found friends. 

Things felt almost normal as the three of you headed back to the room, towels over your shoulders and a trail of water behind you in the elevators. Sarah settled quickly once you were back in the hotel room, Joel telling her she couldn’t have any more soda or juice after she brushed her teeth but he did let her pick a movie to put on the TV as she settled into the pull out couch, looking like she was getting away with something as she watched Legally Blonde from her bed. 

Joel stayed in the bathroom far longer than you thought he’d need to as you both got changed into pajamas. You’d seen him go through his nighttime routine enough times, you knew he was trying to make sure he didn’t accidentally see you in your panties again. 

You had, at least, planned ahead for sharing a room with Joel, packing a fairly conservative set of sleep shorts with a matching shirt and changing quickly so you could spare him the sight. You climbed in bed when you were done, staying as far on your side as you could reach, a book propped open on your knees. 

Joel knocked before opening the door, anyway, and you winced as you replied. 

“You’re safe,” you said. He still opened the door cautiously, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw you tucked below the covers. You smiled tightly at him as he climbed in bed beside you, his curls still damp from the pool. You tried not to just look at him - you shouldn’t want to just look at him, he was your friend - as he got settled and scrolled his phone for a moment before he looked toward you. 

“Want to watch a shitty movie?” 

“God, yes,” you said, putting your bookmark in. 

Joel laughed a little and turned the TV on, finding the Hallmark channel with some particularly insipid movie you didn’t need to know the plot of to keep up with, even coming in half way through. 

By the time it was over, the two of you had drifted closer on the bed, both of you a little breathless from laughter. You turned out the lights and lay down, more beside each other than against each other, and you stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying not to think about the fact that the warmth soaking into you came from Joel. 

“M’sorry about the room mix up,” he said quietly into the dark. “I hope it’s not… I don’t want you to feel weird.”

“I don’t,” you said quickly. “It’s fine.” 

“Good,” he said. “Because the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable…” 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, either,” your voice dropped low enough that it was almost a whisper. 

“You don’t,” he said, almost as fast as you’d responded to him. 

“Good,” you said after a moment. “Goodnight, Joel.” 

“Night, Goldie.” 

***

Joel had a hard-on when he woke up. 

A goddamn boner pressed against his best friend’s ass, an ass he’d seen barely concealed by the softest looking fucking satin or silk or whatever the fuck women’s panties were made of, a sight he couldn’t seem to shake. Not that it was that different from seeing you in a swim suit but there was something about the intimacy of seeing you in a state of undress when he knew - or was pretty damn sure, anyway - that he was the only man who’d seen you that way in months. He liked that sight being reserved just for him. 

He needed to get the fuck over that. 

He was trying to. Really, truly, sincerely he was trying. He’d managed to get some distance from you - though that had helped less than he really expected. But he couldn’t bring himself to just cut you off. 

Even though that would probably be the smart thing to do. 

Clearly you didn’t feel for him the way he felt for you. He’d kissed you - twice - and you acted like it was nothing. Hell, you’d jumped on Tinder as soon as you got home from the cabin and found fucking Stephen. His stomach had twisted in on itself when he saw that text. Consciously, he knew you didn’t feel the same way he did but fuck, he’d hoped it would take you longer than a few days to do something like resort to Tinder after he kissed you. 

And now here he was, his dick against your ass as you slept tucked against him. He wondered what had done it. Had he dreamed about you and those pink little panties only to forget it when he woke? Had he just felt your body against him as you slept, all curved back into him and making your home against his torso with your legs all tucked up toward your stomach so the lush of your ass was nestled right against his cock? Had he just smelled your hair from where you’d moved in the night, the scent of you all close and beautiful driving him to a step beyond wanting? 

It didn’t really matter, he supposed. All that mattered now was making sure you didn’t know it happened. 

He adjusted himself delicately, his cock aching and leaky in the cotton of his pajama pants, rolling slowly onto his back and leaving the arm you were currently using as a pillow below your head. Joel tried to gently extract his arm, hoping he could make it to the bathroom and - after locking the doors - jerking off fast and hard to the memory of you in those little panties

No such luck. You stirred then, uncoiling yourself and stretching out with a satisfied little moan that seemed to have a direct line to his hard cock, making it twitch in the confines of his pants. 

“Morning,” you said, voice groggy as you adjusted, lifting off his arm and arching your back before relaxing down into the mattress. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cramp your space…” 

“S’fine,” Joel said quickly. The two of you lay in awkward quiet for a moment. “Should probably get movin’…” 

“Yup,” you said, getting up quickly. “Big day ahead of us.” 

The three of you got ready to go - Sarah already eager to get into her concert outfit and you had to talk her down - before heading to breakfast. Joel just watched you and Sarah talk about her favorite song lyrics over bacon and eggs and wondered how the hell he was supposed to move on from you when you were like this with his daughter. 

You went to the aquarium that day, you and Joel just hanging back as Sarah pressed her face against the glass at every exhibit, finding the fish she liked best and trying to learn everything she could about them. 

Joel found himself watching you almost as much as he watched his daughter, the streaks of refracted light from the water catching on your eyes and skin and hair.

“What?” You asked when you caught him, a puzzled smile on your face. 

“Nothin’,” he shrugged, looking toward the tank. 

“OK,” you laughed a little. “Weirdo.” 

“That’s me,” he smiled, shaking his head a bit. 

“Well, as long as you’re aware.” 

The three of you went back to the room with plenty of time to get ready and Sarah practically shoved Joel into the living room the second they were there. 

“You’re a boy,” she said before she closed the door. “We have a lot more to do than you.” 

There were a few seconds of quiet before the Taylor Swift started playing and Joel laughed a little, distracting himself with a phone game while you and his daughter gave each other makeovers in the bedroom. 

“Dad!” Sarah poked her head out a while later. 

He set the phone down. 

“Yes baby girl?” 

“Are you ready?” She said. “Because we have to do a fashion show.” 

“Fashion show it up, kiddo,” he said. “M’ready.” 

“OK, put New Romantics on,” she said. Joel frowned and she rolled her eyes. “We need a soundtrack, Dad, just do it!” 

“Alright, alright,” he said, going into Spotify and finding the song. “Ready when you are.” 

“Presenting the eras of Sarah and Goldie,” she said with dramatic flair before throwing the bedroom door open and jumping into the living room in a pink shirt covered in sequins and her white skort. Her hair was in two what she liked to call “space buns” on the top of her head, pink plastic hair ties holding them in place. Her springy curls were covered in glitter and she had on bright pink, sparkling eyeshadow and gem stones on her cheeks as she beamed, her arms over her head as she showed off her outfit. “I’m in my Lover era because it’s the best one, obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Joel tried to keep himself from laughing. “That’s a lot of glitter, kiddo.” 

“It’s a concert, Dad,” she rolled her eyes as you poked your head around the door to look into the living room and he caught a glimpse of your much darker makeup. 

“It’s just a spray,” you said. “It’s supposed to wash out pretty easy.” 

“No, don’t show yourself yet!” Sarah shoved you lightly back behind the door. “You have to do it all at once to get the full effect!” 

“Sorry!” You called and Joel heard the hint of a laugh on the edges of your voice. “You tell me when it’s OK to come out.” 

“Thank you,” Sarah said, turning back to Joel and striking a pose. “Lover is the best because it has the most pink AND it has Cruel Summer on it.” 

“Sure,” Joel nodded seriously even though he had no idea what she was talking about. “You look great, baby girl. Very pink.” 

She beamed. 

“And now, Aunt Goldie -” she stepped to the side of the doorway and threw her arms out with a flourish - “who is in her Reputation era!” 

Joel didn’t know what the fuck that meant, either. All he knew was that he had a hard time keeping his mouth shut as you stepped around the door, a sheepish look on your face as you turned in a slow circle to show off your entire outfit. You were in black jeans that hugged every curve of your legs, heeled black boots, a satiny shirt that was low cut enough that he could see a hint of the black lace bra below and a black leather jacket. Your eyes were dark and your lashes were long, your lips blazing red and all he could think about was how much he wanted to ruin that fucking lipstick. He was so busy staring at you like an idiot, he missed what Sarah was saying. 

“I’m sorry, kiddo, what was that?” He asked, not looking at Sarah. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you. 

“She’s in her reputation era because it’s the most badass - sorry Dad - one,” she said. “And she’s definitely badass. Sorry.” 

“I tried to tell her that no, I’m definitely not,” you said. “But she wouldn’t listen.” 

“Nah, she’s right,” Joel said, hoping he didn’t look like too much of a fucking idiot as he stared at you. “You…” he tried to find some way to describe you that didn’t make him sound like a dumbass. “You look great.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Thanks,” you said. “And what are you wearing?” 

“Oh, right,” he said, getting up from the couch. “Sarah picked somethin’ for me too…” 

He ducked around you into the bedroom and resisted the urge to run his hand over your stomach to the curve of your waist and pull you against him. He changed his shoes into his cowboy boots and got his cowboy hat out from its place in his bag before emerging. 

“What era is this, baby girl?” He asked, his hands awkwardly shoved in the pockets of his jeans. 

“That’s the evermore era,” Sarah said knowingly. Joel frowned and she rolled her eyes. “Cowboy Like Me. Duh.”

Joel saw you press your lips together as you tried not to laugh. 

“Duh, yes,” Joel said. 

“Oh! And…” She scampered to her bag and opened the side pocket of her duffle, pulling out fistfuls of plastic beads. “Friendship bracelets!” 

She put a few on herself before holding clusters of them out to each of you. 

“You’re supposed to trade them with other people at the show! I made a bunch!” 

“Thank you!” You said sliding the cluster of them up your arm and turning them in the light. “I didn’t know concerts required so much prep work…” 

“We ready to go?” Joel asked. “I know parking’s gonna be a nightmare…” 

“Yeah!” Sarah damn near bounded toward the door. “Let’s go!” 

The concert was packed, awash with bright colors and excited squeals as the three of you settled in, Sarah immediately striking up a conversation with a girl about her age in a purple dress, trading bracelets with her. 

“Oh, right,” you said, leaning around Joel to see what Sarah was doing. You started looking over the mass of beads on your wrist and selecting one, passing it over to him. “This one seems good.” 

Joel took it, most of the beads letters that said Call It What You Want. He made a mental note to listen to the song at some point. He smiled a little, putting it on the wrist that didn’t have any bracelets yet so he wouldn’t accidentally give it away. 

“Thanks,” he said, looking at his own wrist until he found the one that made the most sense to him and handed it over before he could think better of it. “Here, in trade.” 

You smiled and took it before laughing a little. 

“You Belong With Me, huh?” You asked. He shrugged and you traced your thumb over the letters before sliding it on your wrist. “Thank you.” 

“Dad!” Sarah grabbed his arm and held up hers. “Look! She gave me her Lover one!”

“That’s great, baby girl,” he smiled at the glittery pastel beads, Sarah’s eyes wide and bright. 

It was impossible to not love how happy Sarah was here. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her smile quite so huge or seen her eyes quite so bright. It was like she was getting everything she had ever dreamed as she chattered away to every girl around them as they waited for the show to start. He drank it in, trying to make sure he remembered clearly, sharply how it felt to see her so happy. After a while, he looked to you to find you watching Sarah, too, a look on your face that was almost as happy as hers and you looked so beautiful he almost wasn’t tempted to look at the plush swell of your lace clad cleavage below your satin shirt. 

Almost. 

“What?” You laughed a little, gaze meeting his just as the lights dimmed. 

“Thank you,” he said. “For wanting to make her happy.” 

You just smiled gently before taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, Joel’s heart skipping a beat as everyone’s attention turned to the stage and cheered, the music starting. 

He didn’t pay much attention to the music during the concert, more interested in watching Sarah have fun and you indulging her, happily dancing along with her and clapping excitedly when she did. 

But there was one song in a slower section that he couldn’t help but notice. You’d been swaying along to the music and Joel had been appreciating the guitar when your head drifted over and rested on his shoulder. He froze for a moment, looking at you with the small smile on your red lips and your eyes all soft as you watched the stage and fuck he wanted to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you and he wanted it to be unlike every other time he kissed you, each of them full of driving want or couched in some pretense. Instead, he wanted to kiss you all soft and slow, gentle and earnest. He wanted to take his time and memorize the taste of you and the way your body felt when cradled against him just so. 

But he couldn’t do that so he tried to focus on the song but the lyrics cut him to the quick. 

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love

The words were striking in their familiarity, like they’d been written just for him. It was a moment he’d had a long time ago, almost 20 years back now, a lightning bolt that made him stare straight up at his ceiling in the middle of the night, right at the spot over his bed that had some Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition model poster tacked into the popcorn plaster. The model didn’t hold a candle to you and your slow building smiles and the way you grabbed his bicep for support when you laughed. 

Because he loved you. 

He’d never loved anything outside of his family before but he loved you. The realization swallowed him up, swift and devastating, because he knew - even at 16 he knew - that it would never work. You were too smart, you burned too bright, you wouldn’t have your feet glued to this place the way his were. You’d move on after high school and go change the world and he’d be able to read your name in the paper and say that he knew you once. 

Except he’d always assumed that, eventually, he’d move on. That he’d love something else, find some slice of that all encompassing feeling in another woman. He was just 16 then, after all. Who the fuck married someone they met in high school these days? He’d move on. 

But he didn’t. He’d just poured all the love he had into his daughter until he was struck by you again and realized that no, it hadn’t faded. He still loved you in a way he’d never loved anything else and in a way he didn’t think he’d ever love anything else again and he still knew - even at 33 he knew - that it wasn’t going to work. And he couldn’t risk pressing it, not when life was this much better just because you were close. 

But what was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to spend the rest of his life trying to pretend that he’d find someone else to feel this way about? Was he supposed to steep himself in this torturous proximity until he lost himself to it? Was he supposed to try to bear finding distance from you - when he couldn’t even last a few days not speaking to you - so he could manage it? 

He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he would ever really know. 

“Joel?” You stepped back from him, your eyebrows knitted together. “You OK?” 

You lifted a hand and pressed the back of it to his cheek. 

“M’fine,” he frowned. “Why?” 

“You look pale,” you said, moving your hand to the other side of his face. “But you don’t feel warm…” 

“Just gettin’ too old for the concert life,” he smiled a little. “Don’t worry about it.” 

You took your hand back. He wasn’t sure if it was a kindness or a cruelty. 

“Better get used to it if you’re going to start playing again,” you said, facing back toward the stage. 

“Yeah,” he said, heart clenching a little. “I’d better.” 

You and Sarah got him to dance and he memorized the look on Sarah’s face as the show wound down, all happiness and joy at getting exactly what she wanted.

After a seemingly endless wait for an Eras Tour t-shirt and the traffic jam to leave the parking lot, the three of you made it back to the hotel, Sarah asleep in the back seat. You went to wake her but Joel stopped you. 

“I’ve got ‘er,” he said quietly, lifting her delicately from the back seat. She groggily put her arms around his neck and nuzzled into his shoulder and he smiled a little. She might be getting big but at least he could still carry his baby girl to bed. 

The two of you tucked her in together before tiptoeing to the bedroom. 

“Thank God I talked Sarah out of glitter for me,” you said quietly as you took your makeup off, already in your pajamas in front of the bathroom mirror. Joel tried to resist the urge to trace the curve of your legs and ass with his eyes. “I’ve barely got the energy to take this off…” 

“Her hair’s gonna be a nightmare tomorrow,” he said, smiling in spite of himself. 

“Yeah, but she loved it,” you looked at him in the mirror. “Worth it.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Worth it.” 

When you got in bed, the two of you ditched the pretense of distance that you’d started with the night before. You lay close but not touching, close enough that he could feel the warmth of you under the blankets. 

“So,” you said, yawning. “How was your first concert with Sarah?” 

“Anything that makes that kid that happy is great in my book,” he smiled a little, his eyes tracing the dark outline of you silhouetted in the dim city light that filtered around the curtains. “Seriously… thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“Thanks for letting me be a part of it,” Joel could hear your groggy smile on your voice. “And I had a few Christmases to make up for missing.” 

He laughed lightly. 

“I missed you, Joel,” you said, sounding so tired he wasn’t sure that you knew you said it. 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“Missed you too, Goldie. So much.” 

You hummed in response before your breaths shifted to the quiet, easy cadence of sleep and Joel drifted off, letting himself savor the closeness of you. 

That indulgence, he thought at first, was what sparked the dream. 

You were in a hotel room with him in his head, too, but it was different. It was just the two of you and it wasn’t because you had to be. No, you were there for each other. 

Joel took his time with you then. He undressed you slowly, his lips trailing over your neck and shoulder as he slid the straps of your bra down your arms. He kissed you the way he wanted to at the concert, holding you to him as his tongue dipped into your mouth and he could smell your shampoo and feel the silk of your skin below his fingers and his cock was painfully swollen. His kiss grew more desperate, desire shifting to necessity. He was drawn hot and tight inside his skin and wanting you was a distant memory now because he was far beyond that. He needed you. 

He rutted against the soft warmth beside him, seeking some kind of relief, your body relaxed and pliant against him, your breath hot on his skin and it was the little whimper you made that woke him up. 

It was still early, the light coming in from around the edges of the curtains not bright enough for it to be the light of day yet but that didn’t seem to matter, he could see things just fine. You were close and tight against him, his aching cock pressed to your stomach, the root of him against your clit, your pussy so hot he could feel it through your pajamas and his own. Your leg was hitched over his hip and you rocked your hips against his length and your head was tucked below his. He could smell your shampoo and feel the heat of your breath on his neck. He froze against you and you gave a soft, strangled moan. 

“Goldie,” he whispered, only then realizing that he was panting for breath. “Think… I think you’re dreamin’, should wake up…” 

You didn’t respond. You just moaned, high pitched and needy, and worked your core against his length and Joel worried that he was going to come then and there. 

“Goldie,” he said again. HIs voice sounded strangled, like he was choking on the words. “Gotta wake up baby, can’t…” 

Your leg tightened on him and your hand found its way to the back of his neck, playing in his curls as you ground yourself against his cock and he thought he might burst if he didn’t find some kind of relief soon and… was it really wrong if you started it? If you were practically fucking him in your sleep, was it so bad to give in to what you wanted? 

His resolve weakened, falling into nothing in a matter of seconds. His hands spread over you, one between your shoulder blades, the other cupping the lush globe of your ass and he pressed closer to you, grinding against your hot slit that you kept pressing against him like you wanted him the way he wanted you. 

Joel’s hand traveled down your ass and over your thigh, the feeling of your skin below his fingers almost too much when taken with everything else you were offering and fuck he wanted to feel you come. He wanted to bury himself deep inside of you and feel you get lost in your pleasure while wrapped around him. He resisted the urge to at least slip a finger into those wet panties - he knew they’d be wet, knew you’d be fucking dripping - because that, for some reason, was a bridge too far. You hadn’t started that. You had started this. 

“Goldie,” he managed again, forgetting all pretense and just fucking his cock against you now. “Need you to wake up…” 

You buried your face in his neck and moaned, the motion of your hips picking up for a moment before you pulled your face back from him, eyes open wide and glassy with want and shock. He froze, his hands still on you and his cock still pressed against your core. 

“Joel,” you breathed, eyes searching his. “What are we…” 

“Want me to stop touchin’ you?” He asked, praying you wouldn’t say yes. 

“No,” you whispered. “I… I want…I need… but we… we can’t…” 

His heart cracked open at that but he shoved it aside. He could deal with the pain of that later. 

“Don’t gotta be anymore than this,” he said quietly. “It’s OK baby, promise. It doesn’t need to mean anything, it’s OK…” 

You just nodded quickly and buried your face in his neck again, clutching him close so every line of you was tight to his body, your hips working in earnest against his cock. He moaned at the feel of it, needing to press his mouth into the crown of your head to muffle the sound. He rutted himself against you, his leaking cock making such a mess of his goddamn underwear that it almost felt like he was inside you, the slick of his precome and the heat of your pussy intoxicating. 

The two of you rocked against each other like teenagers in heat, terrified of what that next step would mean but too desperate to stop yourselves now. Joel was getting dangerously close to spilling into his pants and was trying to stave off his orgasm, needing to come with you, when you spoke - voice small and hot and needy - from your place tucked against his skin. 

“I’m gonna come, Joel,” you panted so quietly, like your pleasure was a secret. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna come, I…” 

“It’s OK,” he said, holding you a little closer, a little tighter, working his cock against you a little harder. “Just come, it’s OK, I’ve got you, it’s OK, just come for me baby, just come.” 

You rutted yourself against him once, twice more before your body seized up and he could feel the throbbing of your pussy against his cock even through the layers of clothing. He closed his eyes and thrust up, letting himself imagine that he was deep inside you and coming there, his orgasm hitting him so hard it made his head spin. 

Your body went limp in his hold after as the two of you panted for breath, limbs tangled around each other. He just held you, tight enough to feel close but loose enough that you could pull away when you needed, until you leaned back from him. Your eyes were still wide but more in shock, now, than want. 

“Joel,” you whispered. “What did we do?” 

He could hear the panic edging into your voice. 

“What did we just do?” Your breaths were coming in fearful little pants now and he ignored the pain in his chest as he brushed your hair back soothingly. 

“S’OK,” he said softly. “It… it doesn’t have to mean anything, it’s OK. Just… shit happened, it wasn’t anything crazy, it’s OK. It don’t have to be anything it’s not, it’s OK.” 

There was a look in your eyes he couldn’t quite place but then you nodded. 

“You OK?” Joel asked after a moment. 

You held his gaze for a second before you nodded once. 

“Yeah,” you said. “It’s OK.” 

His alarm went off and he scrambled to turn it off, praying that, this time, it really would be OK. 

Next Chapter

A/N: I'm going to keep building that tension because I love to torture them apparently.

Don't ask me what my problem is. If I knew, I'd tell you.

Thank you so much for reading about these two idiots! I love them so much. Even if they're idiots.

[jewishcissiekj]

Thinking about how Asajj should adopt Merrin (Jedi: video game series). Or Deathstick (Star Wars: Uprising, Disney/current SW Comics). both work tbh. Unrelated, here's her being feral in Halcyon Legacy

Star Wars - The Halcyon Legacy #1 | Star Wars - The Halcyon Legacy #3

+Bonus Banshee from #3 (because it's stunning here I just can't explain it)

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hold Me Steady

Pairing: Billy Taylor (The Halcyon) x f!reader Warnings: Dry humping. Word count: ~1.3k

Summary: Billy has a close encounter with one of the hotel's maids after agreeing to help her decorate the employee sitting space for Christmas.

Author's note: Day one of the Smuffmas prompts - "hand holding and dry humping". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She struggles down the stairs into the employee sitting room, the beaten up, old cardboard box she carries hindering her view, meaning she has to pick her way carefully downwards, one step at a time.

Halfway down, a large set of hands grip the box from underneath, relieving her of her burden, and she’s met with the wide eyed curious stare of bellboy, Billy Taylor.

“I’ll take that for you,” he says, giving her one of his trademark tight lipped smiles, before walking it the rest of the way down for her.

“Thanks, Billy,” she tells him gratefully, sighing with relief. “You on break?”

“Yeah, got fifteen minutes left,” he responds, setting the box down next to a pile of stacked band equipment. “What’s in here then?”

“The foyer’s being decorated for Christmas,” she tells him, coming to stand beside him. “This stuff’s not good enough to go out, apparently. Can you believe Mr. Garland wants me to throw it away?!”

Billy crouches, tugging open the box, raising his eyebrows as he pulls out a length of threadbare silver tinsel. “I can, actually.”

She playfully swats him on the shoulder, taking the tinsel from him and weaving it through the iron bannister of the stairs. “Thought we could decorate the sitting room with it. Looks more festive already, don’t you think?”

Billy chuckles. “If it makes you ‘appy, then why not? Want some help?”

She smiles, feeling her skin heat up as he looks up at her from where he’s kneeling. “You’re on break, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s not work if I actually want to do it,” he says with a shrug.

They grin at each other, and he continues to rummage through the box, pulling out cracked baubles and torn paper stars, as she surveys the small under the stairs space that the staff have to relax in.

“It’s weird to think I won’t be here next Christmas,” Billy muses, as he hands her decorations out of the box.

She looks away, focusing on running the colourful streamers through her fingers, doing her best to ignore the twinge of sadness that plucks painfully at her heartstrings. “Oh, yeah, you’ll be drafted, won’t you? I expect you’ll miss your mum’s figgy pudding.”

“I’d sooner have trench foot than eat mum’s figgy pudding, ‘orrible stuff.”

They laugh, and she allows herself a brief moment to admire the way Billy’s cheeks dimple and his eyes sparkle when he’s happy, before returning her focus to the decorations.

Within five minutes, the old piano in the corner is decked out in ragged paper streamers, the staircase’s iron bannister is woven with tinsel that’s seen better days, and a fruit bowl in the centre of the table contains the battered remains of tree ornaments of varying shapes and colours - a fitting centerpiece for the dowdy little space.

She steps back, admiring their work, eyeing the empty alcove above the brown leather sofa that’s tucked away against the back wall.

“Would be nice if we could hang this last piece of tinsel up there,” she muses, “not sure how we’d reach though.”

Billy steps behind her, looking with keen interest at the space she’s referring to. “I think there’s a step ladder in the storage room, wait here.”

He disappears out the back and a few moments later returns with a rickety wooden folding step ladder. It wobbles precariously as he unfolds it, setting it down near the sofa.

She draws in a nervous breath, brow furrowing as she looks at it. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

He presses his lips into a tight line, tugging at the hem of his uniform jacket. “Er…probably best if you go up, less chance of you breaking it. I can hold it steady.”

She hesitates for a few seconds, looking at it with uncertainty.

The final piece of tinsel above the alcove really would look nice.

“Okay, but promise you won’t let me fall?”

“Cross my heart,” he says, signing a cross over the left side of his chest.

She giggles, stepping forward and begins to climb up the ladder. It wobbles as she moves, making her breath hitch, until she feels Billy grab either side of it, holding it still. She climbs the rest of the way, pinning the last of the tinsel to the wall, allowing it to bow slightly in the middle.

It’s not until her hands are free that she realises the view that Billy must have, and brushes a palm over her skirt, making sure her backside is covered. She sees Billy turn scarlet in her peripheral vision, averting his gaze, and her heart flutters at the sight.

“Here, look, we missed something,” she hears Billy say, as she slowly starts to climb back down. She turns slightly, seeing him holding up mistletoe - a dried, long dead bunch of it, tied together with twine.

Butterflies flutter in her stomach at the sight. “That’s mistletoe, Billy…” She breathes quietly.

“Yeah…” he replies, chest heaving as he stares up at her.

A moment of silence passes between them as they gaze into each other’s eyes, until she leans down and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Billy gasps, turning pink all the way to his ears, quickly stepping back, and she squeals, toppling forward as the ladder wobbles beneath her.

He is quick to drop the mistletoe, grasping her hands, allowing her weight to push him back into a seated position on the sofa, to prevent her from falling.

They both breathe heavily as she straddles his lap, their hands still clasped together, staring at each other with wide eyes.

“You saved me,” she whispers, “but you dropped the mistletoe.”

“You…you can still kiss me…if you’d like to?” He says hopefully.

She lets go of his hand, leaning in and pressing her lips to his. It’s soft at first, until his arm moves to wrap itself around her waist, pressing her close to him.

The kiss deepens, Billy groaning in approval as her tongue slips against his, their combined breaths hot and heavy against each other. She can feel his rapidly growing hardness through his trousers and grinds herself against it, as his hand slips beneath her skirt, the press of his fingertips feather light against the hem of her knickers through her tights.

There is nothing but the sound of the shared sticky click of their saliva as their mouths move together, and the creak of the leather sofa cushions as their hips push wantonly against each other. Desire sizzles in her blood, causing her core to throb with every press of his clothed length against her.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs leading down to the sitting room causes her to scramble from his lap, quickly smoothing down her maid’s uniform.

“Billy?” Calls out the voice of Feldman as he descends.

“Just on break, sir,” Billy calls back, standing and stealthily attempting to adjust himself.

“That ended ten minutes ago,” the older man says exasperatedly. “Come on, there are guests checking in upstairs with luggage that needs bringing to their rooms.”

Billy’s eyes dart around in panic, his cheeks flushing. “Sorry, sir, lost track of the time. Can I quickly go to the toilet first?”

Feldman sighs. “Make it quick.”

Billy nods, shooting her an apologetic look before walking quickly away.

She puts a hand over her mouth, stifling an embarrassed giggle, knowing exactly what he intends to do.

“What have you two been doing down here then?” Feldman asks her, eyeing her suspiciously.

She clears her throat, smoothing her hands over her uniform once more, hoping her flustered appearance doesn’t give too much away. “Putting up decorations, Mr. Feldman. Looks great, doesn’t it?” She asks with a smile.

His eyes narrow, distaste apparent on his face as his eyes sweep the room, before looking back at her. “Yes, if you say so.”

She stoops, picking the mistletoe up off the floor and tucking it away in her apron pocket. She has a spring in her step as goes back upstairs.

That will definitely come in handy later.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

How did you start your blog… tips please?

I just started by posting one of my fics and letting it go from there - there wasn't much to it until a few requests were sent my way and I had to adjust. I suggest that you make a request form (if you plan on taking requests) and set up some rules for your blog before you post. From then on it's just consistency and having fun!