#bigger houses chapter 7: then again

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Chapter 7: Then Again

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader

Summary: Everyone’s got regrets they might wish to go back and change, but then again, you would have never gotten here

Word Count: 3,304

Content/Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, SMUT, honest conversations, hiking, cuddling, soft intimate shower, oral sex (f receiving), p in v protected sex, lotsa kissing, praise and lowkey size kink, swears

Author’s Note: O. M. G. This is the first time I’ve written smut, so I wanted to make it super soft and loving like I feel really pairs for this couple. Nine months into the relationship, wowza. Talk about true love, somebody pls find me a bear of a man like this.

Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo welcome and appreciated!!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Below is the song which inspired this chapter. It’s my favorite on the entire album. It just kinda puts warmth and longing into my chest, so I hope the vibe matches what I’ve written.

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“Yes Mom, I promise I’ll be safe.” You looked into the camera of your phone as your mom looked right back at you.

“As long as you promise. I don’t want you eaten by a bear, but apparently you’ve got your own bear of a boyfriend to ward them off.” You laughed along with her own chuckle at that joke.

“Yes, Ari knows these woods well. I have no doubt he’s taking us on a good and safe route.” Your head turned away from the phone at a knock at the door.

“That’s probably him now.”

It was Sunday morning and Ari had asked you on a nice hike with him. The weather was set to be sunny, yet brisk, perfect for a rigorous walk through the mountains.

You opened the door and Ari greeted you with a kiss on the top of your head. “Morning, Duchess.”

He turned to see you were on the phone. “Oh, good morning Mrs.—“

“Ari, please. Call me mom. How many times do I have to tell you?” You both smiled and blushed at that as Ari went into your kitchen and dropped off his things. You sat on the couch, continuing your phone call.

“I knew there was something about that boy the first time I saw him. I’m so glad the two of you are so happy together. I can’t wait to come visit and officially meet him in person soon.” Ari had spoken to your mom on several occasions over FaceTime now, each time garnering more of her respect and adoration, which was rare for her. She always had sky high expectations, and you were her daughter after all, but she didn’t want you to have to face the same struggles she did, both career and romance-wise.

You rolled your eyes, thinking she wouldn’t catch it, but of course she did. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady. You know I’m right. I’ll let you go have fun on your date, though. I love you!”

You smiled back. “Love you, too, Mom.”

Once the call ended, you walked over to Ari, watching him bent over and looking through your fridge. You just couldn’t resist the urge to smack the plump, ripe piece of ass in joggers before you. Just as you were winding up, a large hand went and covered both cheeks.

“I know what you’re, thinking, Angel. You’re not gonna get me this time.” He rose from his hunched position, and towered over you, eyes glinting with mischief, pairing with the sly grin on his face. Before you knew it, Ari had scooped you up and plopped you back on the couch, peppering your face with kisses and tickling your sides. You were helpless, kicking your legs from under his body, doing your best to fight off the attack.

“Ari, quit it! I give, I give, you win!” You squealed through your giggle.

Ari’s hands and lips stopped their assault, but he didn’t pull away, instead, leaning in and putting a fat kiss on your lips. “Get on your hiking boots! We’ve gotta go before it gets hot.”

You nodded and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Help me tie them?”

Ari’s head drooped down as he sighed and grabbed your boots off the floor. He could never say no to that look. He kissed each shin as he slid the boots onto your feet. “Anything for you, Duchess.”

You helped by tying one of the shoes as Ari tied the other. He was just such an expert, having to do this everyday for however many years now. Looking at the single knot you had made on your right shoe, he untied it and pulled the laces tight, making his own double knot in its place.

“You’re so much better at that than me.” You huffed. He laughed back, kissing the wrinkle away from your forehead that showed up when you were frustrated.

“Nonsense. You’re great at it. I just like ‘em extra secure.” He grabbed your hand and helped to lift you off the couch, the two of you putting on your hiking backpacks and heading out the door, ready for the trail.

Your hike was filled with amazing views and sightings of so much wildlife. You truly loved seeing Ari in his element, as well. He constantly checked on you as he led you through the winding trails, pointing out his favorite spots and, of course, stopping for snacks and photo ops.

He could tell when the exhaustion was starting to creep in, but luckily by that point, the two of you were nearly home.

As you came back, Ari started on heating up the leftovers from dinner the night before. You went out to your back porch which overlooked the rolling landscape, rich with colors of green and rocky gray, mountains graced with snow caps when you looked up at the peaks surrounding you.

Ari came out carrying two warm plates of Thai food from the good place in town and you snuggled up on the couch of your patio furniture and ate together.

He grabbed your plates and set them aside, as the two of you chatted, the sun casting a warm glow over the landscape. Ari pulled you close so your back was against his chest, his strong arms tight around your waist. He wiggled to scoot until his back was up against the arm rest, finally placing his head on your shoulder as the two of you settled.

Ari kissed your neck, his beard lightly scratching the sensitive skin, as you sat there pensively. “Ari, do you ever wish you could go back and change things? Go back to a time that was simpler, where you didn’t know what it was like to live through so many hardships? Do it all differently?” You felt his chest heave with a sigh and he exhaled out of his nose, the warm air hitting your collar bone.

Ari let the question hang in the air for a moment, thinking over everything in his life while he formulated an answer. “If I could go back, I probably would’ve held onto my old Bronco. It used to be my grandpa’s, and it was getting old, so I traded it in for the truck. I probably would’ve visited him down in Atlanta a little more, too, before he passed.”

You nodded as he hummed, thinking of more things. “I probably would’ve stuck around for graduation, finished my degree so I could become rich.”

You giggled as his chest rumbled behind you. “I’d probably apologize to Savannah for wasting her time, would’ve hung out and vacationed with my childhood friends a little more….”

“Had a little more patience, or sent a few more prayers to heaven, but I don’t know if that all was really in the cards. If it were up to me, who knows where I’d be? I look back at all of that. The heartbreaks, the hard goodbyes, they led me here.”

You turned to look up at him, his gaze distant in thought before he looked down at you. “If it was all different, though, I wouldn’t be sitting here with my whole world in my arms, stealing kisses on a Sunday afternoon. Sure, there are a few things that I might’ve changed if God put me in charge, but then again, I would have never met you.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes at his words. “Why? Is there anything you regret?”

You laughed and sniffled as you shook your head. “No. Not at all.” He used his thumb to wipe the tears falling down your cheeks.

“I feel really dumb right now. I was gonna say something stupid like buying bitcoin to be rich. Or like, maybe just not date at all until I found you. But you make a great point. I wouldn’t have come up here if it weren’t for all that. I think I love you too much to regret anything that led me here. Anything that I thought was a wrong turn definitely turned out right.”

He shook his head, laughing along with you, kissing away the rest of your tears. “Trust me, I love you more.”

The two of you sat there, basking in each other’s presence, before you began to become overly aware of the dried dirt and sweat that sat on your skin.

“I, um…. I think I’m gonna go take a shower. Get the outdoors off of me.” Ari nodded and helped you up off his lap, preparing to head home and do the same when you lingered before heading inside.

“Do you want to….join…me?” Ari sprung up out of his chair, head nodding vigorously. He grabbed the plates off the table and ran to drop them in the sink. He watched as you sauntered, hips swaying while you discarded pieces of clothing, one by one, completely naked before reaching the barn door that closed off the master bathroom from your bedroom.

Ari shimmied down his pants with much less grace, shucking off his shirt and socks, before joining you in the steamy room. He watched in awe as you stepped into the water and it ran down the curves of your body. Ari reached his hand under the stream and immediately retracted at the sting of the heat.

“God, Duchess. I love you, but I don’t think I could stand it if the lava you’re standing under burns my skin off before I even get to touch you.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Bear, it’s not that bad.”

You begrudgingly turned down the temperature as Ari joined you. This wasn’t the first time you and Ari had done anything, but it was the first time you had seen each other fully naked all at once, since you hadn’t fully had sex yet.

You turned around as Ari grabbed your shampoo, gently rubbing it into your scalp. You moaned in satisfaction at the feeling of his fingertips massaging your head, basking in the intimacy and ecstasy of the moment.

“Angel, if you keep making noises like that, I don’t think we’ll ever get clean.” You laughed as you leaned back to wash the shampoo out of your hair.

Ari leaned under the stream with you to wet his hair. You squeezed the shampoo into your hand and began to massage it into his scalp, scratching your nails through his hair just the way he liked.

“Oh, fuck Angel, that’s good.” You giggled, hitting him in the chest.

“If I’ve gotta stop, so do you, mister.”

The two of you continued to wash each other, sharing kisses and feather light touches here and there before getting out and drying off.

Once you had brushed out your hair and Ari’s, the two of you made your way to your bed, sheets freshly washed just the day before. You had your towel wrapped around your body while Ari’s hung low on his waist. Ari held your hips, looking into your eyes, as you slowly backed up until your knees gave out from hitting against the bed.

Ari moved to crawl over you, his towel coming undone as he did so. Your eyes trailed down his firm chest, to his chiseled abs, until you could see how hard he was. You moaned at the sight, watching how his dick twitched in response.

His eyes stayed locked with yours until he leaned down and kissed you, trailing away from your lips and down your neck before retracing the path with his tongue.

You shuffled under him, removing your towel and discarding it on the floor with his, adjusting yourself so your head laid against the pillows. He kissed you again, deeply, passionately, before smiling and pulling away.

“I love you. I’d never change anything about my life unless it meant I could have met you sooner just to love you that much longer.”

You could feel his heavy cock tap against your leg as he kissed down your chest, eyes never leaving yours. You watched intently, lips parted in a light gasp as he finally reached where you were yearning for his touch.

Ari’s biceps bulged when he pulled your legs apart, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. Your breath shuddered at the sensation.

“Is this okay, Angel?” You nodded and whispered back.

“Yes, please. Please keep going.”

Ari’s tongue darted out of his mouth licking a stripe up your slit. Your back bowed as he dove in, licking and sucking. You knew he called you Angel, but his tongue was heavenly.

You let out a high-pitched moan, entangling your fingers through the wet strands of Ari’s hair, using the leverage to grind against his face. He inserted a finger into you, pumping it and curling it against your spot just right. You felt your legs began to shake, but pushed Ari’s head away before you could reach your peak.

“Wait, hold on.” You spoke while still trying to catch your breath. He looked up at you in bewilderment, beard glistening with your arousal.

“What’s wrong, Duchess? Did I do something?” You shook your head, still gasping for air.

“No, no. It was so good, I just, uh…..I want you to be inside me when I come.” Ari nodded, coming back up your body to kiss you.

“Okay.” He whispered back, a soft smile on his face. “Gimme a sec.”

He ran over to his discarded joggers and fished in the pocket to find his wallet where he pulled out a condom. He returned to you in bed, taking his spot between your legs again, and rolled it on. You knew he was huge, and you’d only taken two of his fingers before, but you couldn’t help the anticipation to feel all of him.

“I’m gonna open you up first, okay Angel?”

You nodded and immediately threw your head back as Ari scissored two of his long fingers against your walls, preparing you and stretching you out for what was to come. You wailed when he added a third and Ari swore he had never heard or seen something so beautiful before. The movie that was you feeling this level of bliss from him made him feel warmth and pride through his chest. He needed to be inside you.

Ari pulled out his fingers, swirling his tongue around them and sucking them clean, moaning at the sweet taste. His eyes rolled back and he nearly came from the culmination of partaking in your pleasure up to that point. You couldn’t help but clench against nothing, watching the specks of lust within the love in his gaze after that as he leaned down and framed your face with his large hands. He leaned in to kiss you, then pulled away as his dark blue irises, thin around his blown pupils, shifted between your eyes.

“Are you ready? Are you sure?” It came out breathy and strained. He wanted this as badly as you, after taking everything step by painfully slow step for nine months together.

“Yes, Ari. Please. I just want to feel you so close.”

He nodded and ran the head of his cock

up and down your folds, gathering your arousal before perching at your entrance. He kept one hand at his base, the other on your cheek as he looked deeply into your eyes. You felt the bulbous tip breach your entrance, almost with a pop as your tight warmth welcomed Ari.

“Ah, oh, Angel, you’re so tight.” Ari nearly yelped at the feeling of being inside you. You watched as he couldn’t help but let his eyes flutter closed from the overwhelming pleasure. “I’ll take it slow, promise.”

All Ari wanted was for you to enjoy this as much as him, and when he was able to pry his eyes open to see the way your face was contorted, your eyes as sincere and pleading as his, he knew you were. He slowly pushed in further, accompanied by a deep moan from you. Neither of you were virgins by any means, but something about this moment with Ari felt like being born again, straight into delectation.

He pushed another inch in, slowly, and your hands flew to his broad back, nails digging in the muscles that firmly blanketed his scapulas. His hips jumped at the sting, pushing him in to the hilt, causing you both to brace against each other at the fullness and all encompassing warmth.

His head dipped into crook of your neck, breath fanning your collar bone and beard sending tingles through your body as he sucked on the spot that gave you chills.

Your hands ran down his back and to his ass, pulling him in closer to you, if that was even possible.

“Ari, I need you to move.” You felt him nod against you and his hips pulled out only a few inches before rolling back in.

You breathy moans were close to his ear, spurring him on to keep going faster, pulling out farther and pushing in deeper until the warmth from your core began to climb up your body again. He found a rhythm and could feel as your pussy began to clench.

“Duchess, I can feel you’re close. It feels so good. You’re always so good to me.” His praise pulled you that much closer to the edge, hands grasping for purchase across his back, slipping slightly from the thin layer of sweat.

“Fuck, Angel. So tight. It’s okay, you can let go. Let go for me.” Ari needed you to come for him. He needed to feel your body sucking him in, holding him tighter. He pulled his head from your neck to look into your eyes when it happened. He moved his thumb down to your clit, rubbing tight circles and sending you over the cliff you were hanging on.

“Oh god, Ari!” You keened, your ankles locking around his narrow hips as your entire body contracted in ecstasy. Ari wasn’t far behind, the tightness surrounding him causing him to drive his hips all the way forward and spill into the condom. He collapsed over your chest again as he grunted lowly into your ear.

The two of you stayed there for a few minutes as you caught your breaths. He pulled back, his now dry hair draping over the sides of his face and framing yours, making a small world where it was only the two of you. His silky brown locks blocked everything else out. The only thing in existence was your shared gaze, filled with hazy satisfaction and dopey smiles.

Ari leaned down and kissed your lips, and then your forehead before he whispered to you. “I’m going to pull out, okay? You stay here while I go get a washcloth.”

You nodded and gasped as you felt the sensation of the ridges of his dick passing against your walls until you were empty. On instinct you rolled over to your side and closed your legs, still sporadically convulsing from the orgasm. Ari returned and cleaned you up, pulling up the covers and crawling into bed behind you, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you closer.

He kissed you shoulder and muttered. “I’m so happy to have you. I love you so much.”

You turned over and tangled your legs with his, pulling him in for a lazy, filthy kiss. “I love you, and I’m the luckiest person in the world. Or more like, my whole world was just in me.”

You winked at Ari as his shoulders bounced in laughter at your ridiculous statement. You were drunk in happiness, but neither of you would have it any other way. You slung your arm around his waist and nestled deeply into his chest, a satisfied smile on your face.

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Bonus A/N: as Paris Hilton says, “that’s hot”

Series Taglist:

@patzammit

@hawkeyes-queen

@identity2212

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 7. the week

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel is on a mission to win you back. You struggle with your feelings and visit an old friend for some perspective.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, physical violence, wounds/blood/injuries/gore, vague reference to suicide (Joel remembering his incident after Sarah), alcohol consumption, non-descriptive smutty memory, mentions of murder (adults and children), mentions of pregnancy (not reader)

WC: 7.7K

A/N: I took some liberties with the background of the Fireflies, it's not exactly canon.

Series Masterlist

Somewhere in Northern California

It took two days.

Two full days of freezing temperatures and frigid wind as he traversed up and down mountains, through snow covered forests with little to no shelter, but he finally made it. Right before nightfall, he approached the edge of the town you grew up in. The town your parents still lived in ten years ago. The town that holds a history of you and everything you hold dear.

It was too dark and he was too tired to enter the town and go any further, but fortune smiled upon him for the first time since he left Jackson when he spotted a dilapidated woodshed tucked into the forest. It was small, no bigger than a bedroom, but it would do. It would be the first time in two days he would get to sleep with a roof over his head, and he desperately needed it.

He grossly overestimated his ability to survive out in the wild. He did it before, of course, but life in Jackson made him soft. Made him complacent. Made him weak.

Time took its toll on his body. His age was an offensive reminder every time his knees creaked or his back twinged. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, nor as strong. But he was determined and stubborn, two things that would never change.

With hands trembling from the cold, he jabbed his knife into the lock and broke it with ease, a small triumph in an otherwise unforgiving journey. The shed was mostly empty, save for a pile of wood and an axe. Plenty of room for both him and the horse.

After he scattered some oats on the floor, he grabbed his rifle and marched back out into the snowy tundra to do a perimeter check, knowing he would fall asleep the moment he allowed himself to slow down. By the time he deemed the area safe, he retreated back into the woodshed and lit a fire in the tiny furnace to warm up a bit.

Once he got feeling back in his fingers, he cracked open some stew and ate it cold straight from the can, too impatient to warm it up and too eager to get some rest. The wind howled outside, practically screaming at him with every gust: How could you say that to me?

The horse nickered softly, her head lowered, one back leg cocked as she began to doze off. He laid on the wooden floor, partially resting inside his sleeping bag, ready to strike if there was an intruder. The back of his wrist laid against his forehead while he stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering for the umpteenth time if what he was doing was even going to work. If he would even be capable of finding your house in this town, let alone finding any pictures still in good enough condition to bring back to you.

But it was all he had.

You had mentioned to him when he was sick, after you saw the photo of Sarah, how you wished you had pictures of your family. You looked so somber and distant and he was once again reminded that even though you lost them ten years ago, in your mind you only lost them months ago.

He couldn't imagine losing Sarah twice. Waking up one day, thinking she was alive and healthy and late for school just to be told she was killed mercilessly ten years prior and died in his arms. You were so much stronger than him. You always were. You were told your whole world changed, your family gone, and then tossed into a house with him, pressured by everyone every damn day to regain your memories and become a completely different person when he knew deep down if the same had happened to him, his answer would lie at the end of a barrel. But unlike before, he might not flinch.

You really fucking hurt me, Joel.

He rubbed his face aggressively, the pain and anguish in your voice haunting him. This trip left him with too much time to get lost in his thoughts, too much time to wallow in his grief and replay every single painful memory from the past several days.

Sighing, he dropped his hands to his chest and tried to think about something else. Letting his eyes drift shut, he let his mind wander back to before. Before your accident, before he fucked everything up, back to a time when you were happy and stupidly in love.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" he heard your voice behind him.

He grinned as he stirred a pot of sauce on the stove while you wrapped your arms around his midsection, burying your face against his back.

"My accent rubbin' off on you now?"

You giggled and let go, walking over to grab the bottle of whiskey and pouring you each a glass.

"Maybe."

You handed him his glass and clinked them together before taking a sip.

"How was patrol?" he asked, turning his attention back to the pasta.

"Boring," you replied, hopping up onto the counter next to him, swinging your legs back and forth. "Jesse has a lot of work to do. He's not seasoned enough to be out there without one of us."

He nodded thoughtfully and lifted the spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. "Needs lemon," you said, licking your upper lip while he snatched a lemon from a basket in the corner of the kitchen and sliced it in half.

"Yeah, I know, but he's got potential. Just gotta get him to focus a bit more. Gotta be more aware of his surroundings."

You hummed and rubbed the back of your neck with a wince.

"You hurtin'?" he asked, but you shook your head immediately.

"Just tired."

"You sure?" he said while he strained the pasta. "I can rub your neck later."

"Oh, well in that case, yes. I'm absolutely aching over here," you said with a smile.

"Don't tempt me, baby," he told you, setting down the pot before wedging himself between your knees, his hands rubbing over your thighs. "Might not stop at your neck."

"Is that right?" you teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth playfully.

"Mhmm. First it's your neck, then shoulders," he said, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips, "then your back," he dragged his hands up your back and pressed you forward, nearly pulling you off the counter.

"Then what?" you asked breathlessly, arms loosely draping around the back of his neck.

"Before y'know it, you'll be pullin' at my belt, tellin' me you got an ache someplace else 'n you need me to stuff you full of my cock." His hands dragged up and down your back, his mouth nipping gently at your throat as you tipped your head back with a gasp.

"You know me so well," you murmured, a lazy smirk spreading across your face when you felt the urgency behind his touch.

"Yeah I do, baby," his words getting lost against your skin, "know you like the back of my hand. Know what makes you tick. What makes you feel good. Know what makes you scream my fuckin' name." His lips slotted over yours urgently, the pasta cold and long forgotten as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him close.

"Take me to bed, Joel," you begged after you pulled your head away, breaking the kiss and then quickly latching onto his neck. "Need you. I want - shit!" you cursed when one of you accidentally pushed a plate off the counter and it smashed into pieces against the floor.

"Leave it, don't care," he said, picking you up and pulling your attention off the shards of ceramic littering the floor. "I'll clean it up later."

His eyes popped open, the echo of your giggle from that night bouncing around his skull. It was almost laughable now, thinking he felt lonely before compared to how he felt in the middle of fucking nowhere with only a sleeping horse to keep him company.

He wasn't stupid. He knew he would need to do more than bring home some pictures to convince you to forgive him. But it was a start, and maybe, just maybe with time, you would come to understand what you meant to him.

And if he was really lucky, he might end up meaning something to you, too.

It was stupid and it didn't mean anything.

That's what you kept telling yourself ever since Joel left and you found yourself curling up in his bed at night instead of yours.

His bed was more comfortable. His room didn't store the bad memories of your fight. It was simply easier to sleep there.

It certainly didn't have anything to do with the way the sheets still smelled like him. Like the soap you both used combined with the outdoors and a hint of his sweat. And on the third night when you picked out a flannel of his from the closet and wrapped it around yourself, it was only because it was a particularly frigid night.

You didn't miss him.

Well, you missed having another person in the house, sure. But you didn't miss him on some deeper level. Maria and Ellie were wrong. They had no idea what they were talking about. They had no idea what was going through your head, what you were feeling, what you were struggling with.

There was no possible way you could have feelings for Joel. Not after everything he did and said. Not after the lies and the cheating and the deception.

But then why, when you were struggling to fall asleep at night, did your mind always wander back to the way he looked at you in the meadow, or the way his arms felt wrapped around you on the back of the horse, or the way he made you laugh when you played Monopoly?

And why did it feel like a part of you left with him that night?

"Pathetic," you muttered to yourself, pulling the sheets tighter and rolling over onto your side, his soft, worn flannel like butter against your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the memories from your mind and instead, replaying what he told you about the hospital.

He almost killed you. He was seconds away from putting a bullet in your head and only after presumably begging for your life did he let you go, and then he had the nerve to keep that information from you not only once, but fucking twice.

He was protecting Ellie.

But he still shouldn't have lied.

With a groan, you rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, sleep so far out of reach you didn't even feel like trying anymore. Then a thought occurred to you:

You weren't the only one he let live. There were two other people in Jackson who were there, who were shown mercy and didn't appear to hold any resentment towards him for it. In fact, they seemed rather happy with the second chance they were given.

You hadn't seen Ben or Lisa in a long time. The opportunity never presented itself for you to seek any perspective from them about that day.

Perhaps it was time to change that.

It took him a few hours to scope out the town and venture out of the woods, but by late morning he was heading down what looked to be one of the main thoroughfares in town, eyes squinting against the blowing snow as he tried to pinpoint the location of town hall.

All he remembered was your street name but he had absolutely no idea how to find it, so his plan was to break into the town hall and find a map. From there, he prayed Ellie's drawing was truly accurate enough to narrow down your parents' house.

He was freezing. His face was numb and his back was fucking killing him from riding so much, but he was so close. If he was lucky, he could find your house, get what he needed and head out all before nightfall. Maybe he could even spend another night in the woodshed. It wasn't so bad. At least he was warm.

As he continued to steer his horse down another road, he couldn't help but think Tommy was right about the storm. It was providing him some cover, just in case there were survivors around that wouldn't take kindly to his intrusion. He just hoped it would blow through in a day so his ride back would be clear.

After another thirty minutes of wind whipping at his face, the cold penetrating his coat and several layers underneath, he finally saw it. It was a smaller building than he imaged it to be, but the sign was clear. Hoping that the town size was as small as the town hall, he steered his mare down the drive and through the parking lot, making sure to take in his surroundings, confirming he was truly alone before he slid down from the saddle and trudged through the snow to the front doors.

He wiped away the snow from the window, peering inside before heading to another one and doing the same. It appeared to be empty so he tried the door, unsurprisingly finding it locked. He pulled out his knife and worked on the lock, his fingers stiff and his ears so cold he could barely feel them anymore. Finally, he broke the lock but when he shoved the door, there was something blocking him on the other side.

"Shit," he muttered, glancing around, kicking and dusting snow off the surrounding area, looking for a brick or a rock. Giving up, he grabbed his rifle from the saddle and angrily made his way to the nearest window, smashing the butt of his gun against the glass repeatedly until it shattered. He gasped for air, not realizing how much energy he was exerting before he continued, knocking out as much of the glass as he could.

Sticking his head inside, he looked around. The place seemed empty. It was quiet, covered in dust and debris. Untouched dust was good. It meant nobody had been there in a while. Human or otherwise.

He crawled through the window, taking great care to not catch on any jagged edges. He held his breath, ears straining for any noise that might give someone away, but all he heard was the howling wind outside. This is your fault. Still, he kept his guard up. He walked room to room, finding his way to the lobby and searching the front desk for a map.

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he grumbled as he opened and shut each drawer in the desk, only pausing to snatch up an old protein bar and shoving it in his pocket.

With a sigh, he looked around the room. There were a couple benches, chairs that were moved and tipped over, papers scattered about but his eyes were drawn to the portraits on the wall. There were a few paintings of men he would never recognize, unknown sheriffs and mayors, and some framed pictures of the staff, but the one that really drew his attention was the large map on the wall next to the front doors.

It was a road map of the town. Simple, but it was all he needed. He rounded the desk and shined his flashlight over the map, studying it, searching for where he was before looking for your street.

"Grant Street."

"Grant?" he repeated, his fingers lightly skirting up and down your bare back.

"Mhmm," you confirmed, eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips as you buried your face into his neck.

"That's funny," he said, his hand wandering past your waist and over your ass.

"Why's that?"

"Grant's my Mama's maiden name."

Your eyes opened and locked onto his. "Maybe it's fate, then."

Maybe it was.

Grant was only four blocks north. It didn't look like a very long road, either.

He could do this.

He was so close.

Lisa answered the door with the same look of surprise as before, although this time she was clutching needles and yarn in her left hand while the fire quietly crackled behind her.

"Hey," you said, arms wrapped around yourself as the snow storm continued to swirl behind you. "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Of course!" Lisa said, stepping back, "how rude of me. Can I get you something warm to drink?" She closed the door behind you and took a step towards the kitchen. "I just boiled some water for tea, it's still hot."

"Tea sounds lovely, thank you," you said as you hung up your coat and scarf, trying your best not to make a mess of melted snow all over her floor.

She told you to make yourself comfortable while she prepared your tea, so you wandered into her tiny living room, the space seeming a little larger now without your two imposing men.

"Where's Ben?"

"Working," she said, setting down a teacup and saucer next to hers. "I put a little sugar in it."

"Oh, thank you, that's perfect. I like it sweet," you replied, sitting down on the same couch as before and bringing the cup to your lips.

"I know, I remember," she said, and when she sat down and fixed her billowy top, you noticed for the first time the small bump protruding low on her hips.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and she followed your gaze.

"Oh, yes," her tone soft, "I'm due this spring."

"Wow. Congratulations, Lisa. That's wonderful, I had no idea. I thought I would have seen you from time to time at the infirmary," you explained, setting down your tea.

"Nick agrees to see me after hours, sometimes he makes house calls," she said, picking up her needles again.

You titled your head to the side. "Why do you want to be seen after hours?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the yellow blanket she was making. "I still find it difficult sometimes to face some of the others in town, I suppose. I know I shouldn't but the guilt sticks with me."

"Guilt?"

Her eyes flicked up to yours and she shifted her weight. "I know Ben mentioned the Fireflies to you." She held out her wrist, showing you the small moth-like symbol tattooed there. "I'm not sure how much you know or remember-"

"Actually, that's why I'm here," you said, taking a deep breath. "Joel told me everything. About the Fireflies. About the hospital."

Her eyes widened, the needles abandoned in her lap.

"Oh."

"Yeah," you said, chewing on your lip and glancing at the fire. "He told me what he did there. Told me he spared us, let us go."

"Yes, he did," she agreed softly.

"Can you tell me more about that day?" you asked, dragging your eyes back to meet hers. "I'm having trouble understanding how I could have known this before and still managed to fall in love with him."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

You laughed dryly and shrugged. "I mean he almost killed us. He killed countless innocent people, friends of ours I'm assuming, and I'm expected to believe I just looked past it? We just looked past it?" You motioned between the two of you. "He's a murderer, Lisa. He-"

"We're murderers," she corrected, and you fell silent. "We killed innocent people. We helped lead a revolution that resulted in hundreds of deaths, and where did that get us? Nowhere! People weren't any better off. In fact, they were worse. Friends and family killed, caught in the crossfire, tangled up in this idea of freedom and safety and giving their lives to an empty cause."

You swallowed as you watched Lisa's face, her eyes fiery and her tone hardened, transforming into a different version of herself before your very eyes.

"What Joel did..." she trailed off as she thought back to that day. "We did bad things. So did he, but he single handedly cut the Fireflies off at the legs. He stopped the insanity, stopped the war, stopped the ridiculous experiments and half baked ideas to save the world, regardless of the lives lost along the way. You don't remember, I understand, but allow me to explain."

"Please," you begged softly, "please tell me everything."

She rested a palm against her swelling stomach and leaned back. "We realized we made a mistake pretty early on," she began, "but we didn't have anywhere else to go. We had been living in the wild for so long. We were tired and hungry and weak and we fell for it. Fell for the sales pitch when they found us. We were told we wouldn't have to fight, but they didn't tell us what they expected us to do."

"W-what did we do?" you stammered, sitting on the edge of your seat.

"We killed people. Innocent people, point blank. FEDRA soldiers. Civilians who ratted out our location for extra food for their family. Children-" her voice wobbled a bit as she looked down at her stomach. "Children who were experimented on, vaccine prototypes tested on, who became horribly disfigured a-and screaming in pain, begging to be put out of their misery-"

"Okay," you said, cutting her off and taking a deep breath, unable to hear much more. It was becoming clear why Joel kept this from you, and although you had a right to know, you were beginning to understand his motivation. He was trying to protect you.

"Anyway," Lisa continued, flicking a tear from her cheek, "we planned on getting out. We couldn't do it anymore. Then, Joel showed up."

You held your breath, waiting for her to continue.

"We were doing perimeter checks. Loosening a spot in the gate so we could sneak out later that night. Then we heard the gunshots. And at first, we thought some infected got in. It was the perfect distraction, so we grabbed our gear and made a run for it."

She paused to take a sip from her tea, her eyes looking miles away.

"We almost made it. We were in the parking garage loading up a vehicle when he snuck up behind us. Told us to lay face down on the ground with our hands behind our heads. We never saw him and it wasn't until later we found out he was all alone. The whole time we were convinced it had to have been a group of men. It seemed impossible for one man to do what he did, but somehow..."

She trailed off again and cleared her throat.

"He gave us a second chance when we didn't deserve it," she said solemnly. "You and Ben dealt with the weight of what we did far better than me. I still struggle with the guilt, I can't..." she looked up at you, "I hope you never remember."

A chill went down your spine and you nodded.

"Try not to hold it against him," she said, offering you a small smile. "We've all done terrible things. It's not all black and white."

It ain't black and white.

"Yeah, okay," you replied quietly, standing up from the couch, your mind reeling. "Thanks," you added, motioning to the tea before she walked you to the door, "and congratulations again."

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her belly, her green eyes sparkling. "I'm glad you stopped by. The truth is sometimes ugly, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve to understand the whole picture." You nodded and bent over to shove on your boots. "Joel's not a bad man. I'm sure he was just trying to protect you by leaving some things out about our past. He would have told you eventually."

When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em.

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that now," you said, shrugging on your coat with a wry smile.

The whole way home, you practically kicked yourself for not visiting Lisa sooner. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe not. But it finally felt like a missing puzzle piece was back in place and you could begin to make sense of your confusing feelings for Joel.

Ellie was incredibly talented.

He needed to make sure to remind her of that when he got home because even through the blowing snow, in near whiteout conditions, he was still able to figure out which house was yours because Ellie's drawing was so detailed, so accurate that it almost felt like he had been there before.

He was eager and impatient. He just wanted to get inside and get what he needed and leave, but before he did, he peered inside the windows and did a walk around the whole house three times, just in case. It was a small brick ranch and if the snow wasn't so thick, he would be able to see the black shutters framing the front windows, just like in the drawing.

He shouldered open the side garage door first, a pile of fluffy snow spilling over the hard concrete as he stumbled in and shimmied open the roll top door so he could bring his mare inside.

He pat her between the eyes, murmuring his thanks for being so damn tough and sprinkled some more oats on the ground before slipping inside the house.

The door from the attached garage led right into a kitchen, which, by the looks of it, was rifled through on more than one occasion. No doubt some survivors had come through over the years and turned the place upside down for anything useful, but that didn't matter to him. What he needed wouldn't be stolen.

Glancing at the fridge, he paused when he saw some photos stuck to the door. He leaned his rifle against the wall and shook his head, curls flinging melted snow over the dusty floor, then bent over to examine the pictures. Most of them didn't have you and he began to worry he was in the wrong house after all, but then he saw it: at the very top was a picture of four people, all wearing summer clothes and Mickey Mouse ears with the Cinderella castle in the background. A middle aged man and woman bookended a young man, lean but muscular with his arm draped around your shoulders.

You were younger, maybe still in high school, and your hair was longer and lighter, but he would recognize that smile anywhere.

He carefully plucked the photo from the fridge and brought it closer, his eyes raking over every detail of the picture, from the brightness in your eyes to the cotton candy pink sky behind you.

You looked so happy.

Nothing like the way you looked when he last saw you: broken and bruised. Ruined and dejected. Because of him.

You spared my life just to break my heart.

He blinked and pocketed the photo before turning around. The living room was in worse condition. It appeared someone must have stayed there at one point because the couches were shifted around, an armchair wedged in front of the door, cushions flung around haphazardly.

He had to move furniture out of the way, dig around a bit through broken bookshelves, but he managed to finally unearth an old photo album. Resting on one of the couch cushions with a huff, he took a few moments to flip through it, smiling now and then when he saw an especially cute picture of you. The wind outside was howling so loudly, the old house creaking with every gust that he couldn't hear when footsteps slowly crept up behind him and knocked him unconscious with the butt of his own rifle.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He knew better. He should have scoped out the inside of the house before getting distracted. But he was too excited and too eager to get what he came for that he forgot his own rules. And he took for granted the snowstorm would hide his tracks.

Now he was hunched over on the living room floor, leaning against the wall with his wrists tied behind his back while five raiders went through his things.

"Hey man, don't you like peaches?"

"Fuck yeah I do, give it here."

Joel groaned, the back of his head throbbing, thick, sticky blood slowly trickling down the back of his neck.

"He's waking up."

"Hey, princess, how's the head?" one said with a sinister laugh. Joel ignored him.

"You got some nice shit. Wanna tell us where your camp is?"

Joel opened his eyes and glared at the man in front of him, wearing a leather jacket and leather gloves and a black bandana pulling his dark, wiry hair off his scarred face.

"Fuck you."

The punch came fast and hard across his jaw, making him see stars for a moment. The other men chuckled and got back to dividing up his things.

"You wanna try that again?" the first man asked, crouching down in front of him. Joel tugged on the rope holding his wrists together. The knot was tight but it wasn't foolproof. He just needed a little time to loosen it up.

"Don't got a camp."

"Bullshit," the man barked, spitting against the wall next to Joel's head. "Ain't nobody out here with this kinda gear and a goddamn horse roughing it all alone. Now, just tell us the city and we'll take it from there. We'll even let you live."

He heard one of the other men scoff but the rest remained quiet, and if Joel wasn't already convinced they were planning to kill him either way, he definitely was now.

"Boise."

"Boise?" he repeated, and Joel nodded, twisting his hands behind his back, feeling the coarse rope burn against his skin. The man in the leather jacket sighed and hung his head before landing another blow, this time across the mouth. Joel's lower lip got snagged on his teeth and tore. Blood trickled down his chin as he angrily whipped his head back towards the raider.

"I told you what you wanted!"

"You fed me a bunch of bullshit is what you did," he said, kicking Joel in the ribs. He gasped for air, doubled over against the wall, coughing and spraying blood across the faded floral wallpaper. He wondered if your parents did the wallpaper themselves, if your mom picked it out, or did the house already come like that?

Joel tugged harder on the rope, feeling it start to give. He needed to stay focused. He needed to make every move count if he wanted to get out of this alive.

The raider pulled a revolver from the back of his pants - Joel's revolver - and flipped it over in his hands. Back and forth, back and forth. Then he leaned forward and pressed the barrel against Joel's forehead.

"I'll give you one more chance, asshole," he said, his dark eyes boring into Joel's, "tell us where your camp is or else I shoot you in the fucking head."

"What the hell was he doing here anyway?"

"Shut up, Mike," the guy in the leather growled, eyes still trained on Joel.

"No, but seriously. There's nothing in this house worth taking. We've been through this neighborhood months ago."

The raider's eyes flickered around the room and Joel tugged harder on his restraints when he looked away. Then the man spotted the photo album lying face down on the ground.

"What's this?" he asked, lowering the gun and picking up the album. He began to flip through it and Joel felt the rope finally give. The raider let out a low whistle and slid a photo out to look at it closer. "Don't tell me you came out in the middle of a storm just to find something to jack off to," he teased, holding up a photo of you in a yellow bikini by a pool. He flipped the picture back around and grinned. When he went to stuff it in his pocket, his attention momentarily diverted, Joel took his opportunity to strike.

In the blink of an eye, he snatched the revolver from the raider's fingers and shot him in the temple, his body immediately falling limply to the side. Wet, sticky blood sprayed all over Joel's hand but he just tightened his grip on the gun, taking aim and bringing down another one of the men while they were still too stunned to move.

"Fuck!" one of the remaining three men screamed as they scrambled for cover. Joel ducked behind the couch and held his breath, straining to hear the scuffling of their boots, trying to pinpoint where they were in the small room. When he heard one of them accidentally knock against the kitchen table, the wooden legs scraping against the linoleum, he straightened up and took aim, taking out another man with a bullet right between the eyes, but unfortunately one of the last two men got a shot in as well.

The bullet grazed against his left bicep. Joel hissed and ducked back behind the couch. He would deal with it later.

"Come on, man, we can work something out," one of the men called out after a minute. "Let's just go our separate ways. Act like this never-"

Joel jumped up and shot the man in the cheek, the bullet traveling through his mouth and out the back of his head, leaving brain matter that looked like globs of gelatin dripping down the kitchen cupboards after he fell lifelessly to the ground.

Joel stepped towards the kitchen, now only one on one. He got cocky. He was feeling too confident with how quickly he took out the group. He didn't even see it coming when the knife lodged into his side, just above his hip. Without thinking, he yanked the knife out, twisted around and jammed it into the final raider's throat, watching as he fell to the floor, choking on his own blood, and didn't look away until he stopped twitching.

Adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he used it to his advantage, his left hand pressing weakly against his wound, the wound in his arm preventing it from being very effective while he searched the dead bodies of the men for anything useful. He had brought some first aid with him when he left Jackson but he was too far from home, he would need antibiotics, at least, if he was going to make it back.

Of course, he came up empty, so he snatched his first aid kit from the table and stumbled down the little hallway, searching for a bathroom. He knew it was a lost cause, the raiders already admitted to clearing the place out months ago, but he had to try.

He flung open the medicine cabinet with a grunt, the pain beginning to set in now. Pressing his bloody fingers against the stab wound as hard as he could, he rummaged around the cabinet, leaving paths of red everywhere his fingers touched, then tried the drawers under the sink.

Nothing.

"Fuck," he muttered, collapsing onto the cool tile floor as he began to sort through his first aid kit. There were no towels left but he was sitting on an old bathmat. He groaned in pain when he lifted his hips to pull the bathmat out, shook out the dust and dirt, then pressed it against his side, bringing his knee up to hold it in place.

With trembling fingers, he threaded a needle. He wiped the blood from his hands on his shirt, but they were stained red. Ripping open his jacket and flannel, he lifted the two other layers he had on underneath and lowered his leg to get a look at the wound.

It was deep and he was losing a lot of blood, but he was fairly certain the knife wasn't long enough to knick any organs. His stomach wasn't swelling, that was a good sign.

He only had a small bottle of antiseptic, so he used most of it to clean the wound and then the needle, saving a little bit to use on his arm later.

He took several quick breaths in, hyping himself up, then paused when he first shoved the needle through his skin. Tears sprung up, blurring his vision, but he blinked them away.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

In and out, in and out, he slowly stitched himself up. The angle was awkward and the stitches were ugly, but it got the job done: the bleeding stopped. His heart was hammering in his chest, sweat poured from the sides of his head, mixing with all the blood drying on his face and beard. He slumped to the ground with a pained groan, lying flat on the floor in a pool of his own blood, staring up at the ceiling. He just needed a moment to rest, a moment to catch his breath and then he would go.

Would he ever see you again? Would you ever even know why he came out there? Would you always wonder what happened to him? You told him you cared about him, but was that even true anymore? After what he did?

"C'mon, baby, gimme a sign," he whispered to himself, "gimme a sign that I still got a chance in hell 'cause if I don't, I'm not sure I got the strength to make it home." Tears welled up in his eyes again and this time he let them fall. He sniffled and waited. For what, he wasn't sure. Divine intervention? Genius to strike? A brilliant idea to form? But all he heard was the blowing wind outside.

The tile felt so cool against his burning hot skin. A small voice in the back of his head told him the longer he stayed there the weaker he would become, but he was just so tired. He rolled his head to the side, his eyes about to slide shut when he saw it: a dusty, opaque orange bottle rolled all the way against the wall underneath the sink.

Blinking a few times, he wondered if he was imagining it.

He wasn't.

Stretching his arm out, he slowly reached underneath the vanity and pulled out the half empty bottle. Holding it above his face, he squinted at the letters on the faded sticker.

Penicillin. Use as directed by your dentist.

His breath caught in his throat when he read your name on the label.

He finally got his sign.

"What happens when we die?"

"What?"

You rolled over onto your side to face him, wrapping your arm around his waist. He looked so peaceful, lying in bed like that. His eyes closed, face relaxed. You repeated your question.

"Don't know," he said, cracking open one eye to look at you. "Haven't died yet."

You giggled and he smiled, pulling you closer. He smelled so good. Like the rain and sex and smoke from the fire.

"I mean... do you think there's a heaven?"

He hummed and kissed the top of your head, his fingers lightly trailing up and down your bare arm.

"Yeah, I do."

You swallowed nervously and drew invisible circles into his skin, making him shiver.

"Do you think..." you trailed off and he froze, picking up on your tone.

"What, darlin'?"

"Do you think we'll make it? To heaven, I mean?"

His eyebrows pinched together. "Why wouldn't we?"

"You know why," you replied softly, "we've done bad things, Joel."

"Yeah, but we ain't bad people," he reminded you, then rolled over, pushing you onto your back so his arms caged you in. One knee slotted between yours and you spread your legs, hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he said, dipping his chin down and pressing his lips firmly against yours. You sighed, your shoulders finally relaxing. "Besides, this is heaven right here," he murmured against your mouth, feeling you smile.

"Ain't nothin' better than this."

You awoke with a gasp, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. That was the first time you had a dream about Joel, and something about it made you uneasy.

You had slept in his bed the entire week, wrapped in his clothes, and today was the day you had expected him to come home. Shrugging off the dream to no more than your subconscious fixated on his return, you forced yourself to get out of bed, fixing the sheets so it wouldn't look like you had been sleeping there and then headed to your room to change and freshen up.

The past couple days you had secretly hoped he would come back sooner but you refused to let it show. If Ellie or Dina or Maria asked you about it, you played it cool, or at least you thought you did. But every night you stayed up as late as you could, curled up on the couch all alone, waiting. Every time someone walked by, your body stiffened and your pulse raced, expecting to hear his heavy footsteps walking up the porch, but they never came.

But today was the day. The seventh day. His note said a week, and you knew if Joel was alive, he would stick to his word.

His absence afforded you a lot of time to think. Time you didn't realize you desperately needed, and now that you were able to process everything clearly without his overwhelming presence muddying the waters, you felt confident you knew what you wanted now.

All day at work, you were distracted. Nick had to call your name repeatedly to get your attention on more than one occasion, and by the fifth time you felt guilty. He didn't say anything, though. He understood. By then, most of the town knew Joel had left. Word spread like wildfire, especially once the storm passed through. It didn't take a genius to figure out how difficult it would be to survive all alone in those conditions.

Then the rumors started.

You tried to ignore them, but it was hard. When people began drinking and getting loud in the dining hall, it was impossible not to hear.

When you heard a man claim he saw Joel's horse frozen in a river during patrol, you stopped going to the dining hall to eat.

It was dark, it was just a deer, Tommy had told you later after he went out to the river to check, but it still shook you up.

When the sun set on Jackson on the seventh day and Joel still hadn't returned, the fear began to take hold. Your stomach churned, making it impossible to eat the following morning. You had hardly slept, the bags under your eyes dark and heavy. Nick begged you to take the day off but you insisted you needed to stay busy, although it didn't help much. On your lunch break you tried to casually walk by the main gate, the one near the stables, hoping to catch a glimpse of him returning, but you had no such luck.

So you went back to work. You kept your hands busy, tried to keep your mind occupied, but it was impossible.

I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you.

You couldn't get those words out of your head. The guilt was weighing you down as you grew worried that was going to be one of the last things he ever said to you.

"Went on a date the other night."

"With who?"

"Cindy, from the kitchen."

Ricky laughed heartily and Andrew smacked his shoulder with the back of his hand.

"Shut up, man. We're on watch, we can't be giving ourselves away."

"It's the middle of the goddamn night and we haven't seen any infected in weeks. It's too cold for them, they're all frozen somewhere waiting to thaw in the spring," Ricky said, shouldering his rifle.

"Yeah, but still. You never know. There's more than just infected out there."

Ricky chuckled and shook his head. "Tommy telling you ghost stories again?"

"Raiders ain't ghost stories, asshole," Andrew shot back.

"And raiders never make it this far up the mountains, asshole," Ricky replied, mocking Andrew's tone.

Andrew grumbled under his breath and strolled away from the tower, towards the gate, his eyes scanning the treeline. He couldn't see a damn thing. It was pitch black and deathly quiet.

He turned on his heel and began the slow walk back towards the tower where he could see Ricky unwrapping a granola bar and pulling a paperback book from his back pocket.

Just as he was about to chastise him for letting his guard down, he heard twigs snapping in the woods. He whipped around, bringing his rifle up so he could get a better look with his scope.

"What the hell was that?" Ricky's whisper materialized in his ear.

"Dunno. Something's out there."

Ricky lifted his own rifle and scanned the trees as well, both of them holding their breath, waiting for another noise.

"Maybe-"

Then they heard more twigs snapping and pine trees raking against fabric. Louder this time.

"Fuck," Ricky muttered nervously, his palms growing sweaty inside his gloves.

"There," Andrew said lowly, and Ricky followed his aim. Something was approaching in the dark. Something big.

"I got it."

"No, just wait a second," Andrew said, squinting through the scope. Then his jaw went slack when he realized what it was.

"It's a horse."

"What?"

"It's a fucking horse, bro," Andrew repeated, his voice rising a little.

When it finally emerged from the forest, they saw the rider slumped over, covered in snow, their face buried in the horse's mane.

"Holy shit," Andrew said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and racing towards the ladder. "Radio Tommy!"

"W-what do I say?" Ricky stammered, fumbling with the radio dial.

"Tell him it's Joel!"

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[multifandomgirl08]

Glass Houses - [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: When Raymond had called you about going and getting lunch, you should have known that something was going on.

Warning(s): Jos Verstappen (Being himself/an asshole), Mixed formatting (Story + Article), Max and Reader get into an argument about Reader going and meeting Jos, Max opens up to Reader about Jos, Max and Reader making up at the end

A/N: Although this chapter, like Stones To Throw, is pretty heavy in terms of topic. These were some of my favorites to write for this series. This is also the longest chapter of this whole series.

Words: 4k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

When Raymond had called you about going and getting lunch, you should have known that something was going on. You and Raymond never talked much without Max around.

Max was at Milton Keynes for testing this week before the season started again, Nico was at school for the day and the sitter was taking care of Nikita for the few hours that you would be out of the house. When you showed up at the restaurant, you saw Raymond talking to someone who was sitting across from him.

As you got closer to the table you couldn’t help but stop in your tracks. Raymond was sitting and talking with Max’s father. Who you had never formally met, or talked to at all. But you knew it was him, from the photos online to see the outline of the same man in your driveway 7 months ago. What was Raymond thinking inviting you to lunch with them?

You timidly walked up to the table before hearing Raymond speak, “Y/N,” He said with a slight nod.

“Hey Raymond,” You greeted him, letting your eyes sweep past Jos.

You didn’t want to look at him, mostly because of the stories that you had heard from Max and Victoria. Jos was a good grandfather to Victoria’s boys, but every time she brought it up with Max you could tell that he was getting angry about it. You always had to keep the peace between them when those conversations started.

Jos stood up from his chair reaching his hand out to take yours. You glanced at it and then at him. He was only slightly shorter than Max. Bigger in build from the fact that he wasn’t on an athletic diet like Max, who had to keep his weight down so he would be in top shape for when the season started in a few short weeks.

You didn’t want to shake his hand but did anyway. There had to be a reason as to why you were here. You just hoped it wasn’t to make a deal with the man who Max grew to despise as he grew up.

He gave you a half smile, and although it didn’t seem malicious you couldn’t help but slightly question it.

“Jos.” Max’s father said.

“Y/N.” You replied.

“I know, my son’s wife.” He made a vague gesture towards you. “Where are my lovely grandsons, if you don’t mind me asking.”

You flinched internally at the word lovely. You loved the way Max said that word when he was complimenting you, or commenting on something that was going on. Hearing Max’s father say the same word and what followed after, made knots in your stomach start to form.

“I actually do.” You played with your wedding and engagement ring as you looked at him, not bothering to answer his question.

The more you looked at him, the more you could pick up the little parts of Max’s features that he got from Jos. His nose, his eyes, even though Max’s were a darker shade of blue. Max had a mix of Jos and Sophie’s hair. Luckily Max had gotten the majority of Sophie’s features.

“I was right, wasn’t I Ray?” Jos turned to Raymond. You could see his smile turn up a little more. “Max chose well.”

You had heard from Christian that Raymond and Jos were friends but never gave it much thought before now. You were sure that Max hadn’t told his father about the house, so Jos was keeping tabs on Max through Raymond.

“Is there a reason as to why I’m here?” If there wasn’t then you would like to go about the rest of your day. You still needed to get groceries before going and picking Nico up from school.

“I wanted to meet you,” Jos said before reaching for the glass that was in front of him. “Meet the woman who is going to help mold my grandson’s future in Formula 1.”

“You don’t know that, you have no idea if my son is going to keep karting.” You crossed your legs, your eyes traveling over Jos’ face trying to read into what he wasn’t saying.

“You’re son?” Jos mocked placing his glass back down onto the table.

“Yes.” You fired back. You didn’t need to hear this from him. Jos hadn’t been in Max’s life for a long time, and he had never even known Nico.

You watched as Jos’ shoulders went lax, sitting further back in his chair. His eyes studied you for a moment before he nodded.

“I’m surprised,” He crossed his arms.

“By?” You asked quizzically.

“My son finding someone… who can handle everything.” You wanted to question Jos. What did he mean by that? Everything? Did he mean Max’s career, his schedule, him being away all the time? Him having to raise a child by himself essentially for the first few years of Nico’s life?

You shook your head, “I don’t understand what you mean by everything. It’s not like my life is all that different. I’m married and I have 2 children. What’s so different about-?”

“I meant,” He said, cutting you off. “That you can love my grandson as if he’s your own.”

Your eyes hardened. Of course, you loved Nico as your own. How could you not? He was a sweet boy, who loved playing with his model cars, wanted to ride his bike around the driveway, and was always polite to those around him.

“There is no if, in that, it’s not as if he’s my own. That little boy is my son regardless of what you or other people might think.” You didn’t know Jos like Max did so you had no problem telling him how things were. “I can’t believe that you even thought it would be right to make Max give Nico up. Max is an amazing father to our children.”

You almost wanted to tell him that you felt bad for him. He would never get to see what a great dad Max was to the boys. He would just have to hear about it from other people.

Jos moved forward in his chair almost as if he wanted to lunge at you. You didn’t flinch or move away.

“You think that you have a right to tell me this.” He said defensively.

“I have every right,” You calmly replied. You weren’t going to elaborate. You didn’t need to.

You made sure to meet his eyes and could see the recognition in them. He knew deep down that you were right. But he would never admit it publicly or try to talk to Max about it. He had too much pride for that. He had raised Max to achieve everything that he did and now got to revel in it when anyone asked who pushed Max to succeed. It was like Jos fed off it.

“If you want to keep tabs on Max through Raymond, that is none of my business, but please respect that my husband doesn’t want you near our children.” You moved out of your chair pushing it in. Jos had moved his hands onto the armrest of the chair as if he were going to get up. “My children’s career, be it racing or otherwise, is none of your concern.”

You pushed up your hand to stop him from getting up from his chair. You didn’t want to be there. You should have just left when you saw that it was Jos here with Raymond.

You gave Jos one last look and you could see that whatever he was trying to accomplish by getting you here had failed. You collected your bag from the top of the table and walked away from them both.

You weren’t going to enjoy telling Max about this.

Five Days Later - Sunday

Wife of Formula 1 Driver, Max Verstappen, Y/N Verstappen seen abruptly leaving a restaurant just outside of Saint-Tropez

Anita Eriksson For DAILYMAIL.COM February 22, 2026

A few days ago one of our journalists was in Saint-Tropez and saw Y/N Verstappen, wife of 4 time World Champion Max Verstappen in a restaurant.

Verstappen's wife, Y/N was there for less than half an hour, and she was seen talking to who appeared to be Verstappen's father Jos, and his manager, Raymond Vermeulen. Over the years, people have started to notice that Jos Verstappen hasn't been present at F1 races and is never seen around the paddock anymore.

Rumors have spread that Verstappen banned his father, saying that he was too much of a distraction, making it hard for Max to compete. Verstappen's father was absent for all of Max's championship wins dating all the way back to his first in 2021. Just over a year after Verstappen's oldest son was born. Although, Jos being banned from the paddock has never been confirmed by Max or anyone from the Oracle Red Bull Racing Team.

From what the journalist saw, Y/N didn't seem all that happy to be sharing the same space with Jos. She sat down for a few minutes, didn't order anything, had what seemed to be a harsh conversation with him, and then collected her bag before getting into the navy blue Bentley Bentayga S 2026 that her husband bought her as a birthday present.

Jos Verstappen didn't look pleased after Y/N had left the table and was seen yelling at Vermeulen.

In December of last year, Y/N gave birth to Verstappen's second child, a boy named Nikita, named after racing legend Niki Lauda. Which they announced via. Y/N's Instagram. This is the first time that she has been seen out in public since the birth of her son.

One Day Later - Saint-Jean Cap Ferret

You had been in the kitchen making yourself something to eat after just having put Nikita down for his afternoon nap. Max had come storming into the room with his phone in hand, from the spare bedroom where his racing sim was set up.

"Did you have lunch with my father and Raymond while I was away last week?" 

You had stopped what you were doing and just looked at Max. You had never seen him so angry before. His expression was almost unreadable. You had only ever seen him look like this after something had gone wrong during a race.

You put down the knife that you were holding, "Yes." You started to say. You wouldn't really call the encounter that you had with Jos lunch, but to Max that would only be a minor detail. "Raymond called me and asked that I come meet him."

"You went, of course, without telling me." He stated, moving his hands a bit as he spoke.

You knew why Max was saying this. He didn't want Jos around you or Nico remembering how Max was after Jos had visited the house all those months ago. The following days after Max had been rather clingy with you and Nico, wanting to be around you as much as possible.

"I didn't know that Jos was going to be there." You hadn't but you should have assumed that it wouldn't just be a friendly lunch between you and Raymond either.

“You…” He started to say before he cut himself off. “You shouldn’t have gone. Not without me.”

“I don’t need you to protect me Max.” You had always been able to handle things by yourself, that hadn’t changed. 

Max walked closer to you, leaving his phone face up on the counter. It was unlocked to show a Daily Mail article, with a photo of you from last week. It was you leaving the restaurant before you had gotten back into your car to go home.

Max didn't walk any closer to you, keeping a fair distance between the two of you. You could see one of his hands slightly twitch as if he was going to reach out for you. He dropped his hand at his side and then ran it through his hair.

"Were the boys with you?" He asked. You watched as his eyes moved no doubt studying your face.

"No," You said with a sigh. You would never have taken the boys with you to meet Raymond alone. Maybe that's why you were so insistent that Sylvie stayed at the house with Nikita. Your instincts told you that it was better not to take Nikita with you. "Nico was at school and I left Nikita with Sylvie so I could go see Raymond," And your father, you thought. "And then went and got groceries before I went to pick up Nico once he got out of school for the day."

You knew better than to take Nico shopping with you, he would always put things in the shopping cart that you didn't need.

Max nodded but didn't say anything else to you. He walked out of the room, leaving his phone, not looking at you at all.

You picked it up and read through the article. There would no doubt be comments on Twitter about you with the hashtag #lionessverstappen. You had grown used to the moniker but never thought that your being protective over Max and the boys would lead to this type of reaction from Max.

You had never had to explain to Max why you did things throughout the entire time that you had been together. There had always been a reason and Max had understood that. Why couldn’t he understand this?

You didn’t follow Max out of the room because you knew if you did it would lead to both of you yelling at each other. So you just stayed in the kitchen and kept cooking. You finished making yourself food and then started the prep for dinner.

As you stared at the plate of food that you had made, you couldn’t help but push it away from you. You didn’t want to eat anything. You knew that you should since you were still breastfeeding but you couldn’t manage it. So you forgo eating and pull out your laptop to answer some work emails.

You glanced out into the backyard to see Max pacing back and forth while talking on the house phone, his hair in complete disarray from running his hand through it so many times.

As you looked at him, you wanted to tell him why you had gone to talk to Raymond.

Max didn’t talk about Jos unless he had to. He was always a sore subject. You thought that going and talking to Raymond would give you more insight into Max’s relationship with Jos. But after you had met Jos yourself, you were quick to realize that you should have waited for Max to talk to you about this when he was ready, even if he never would be.

After having only spent half an hour with Jos. You understood that Jos cared more for himself and the way he looked in the eyes of the media and F1 history than actually being a good parent/grandparent when it came down to it, or when it had anything to do with Max. He wanted people to view him as the person who helped mold a champion. It just happened to be that that Champion was his own flesh and blood.

The sound of the crackle from the baby monitor pulled you out of your thoughts. You left your computer open, rushing to Nikita’s room. Not noticing that Max had watched you leave before he sat down on the couch outside with his hands in his hair. The house phone now lying on the coffee table after he finished talking with the Red Bull team publicist.

You and Max hadn’t talked to each other all evening. Both of you paid attention to Nico at dinner and as you kept looking over at Max, there were only a few fleeting moments when you could feel him look at you.

This was the first time since you and Max had gotten married that you didn’t feel happy. After just a year of marriage, you had your first fight. Better now than later.

“I don’t want it to be like this.” He said after turning off the faucet in the kitchen after dinner.

You had sent Nico up to his room to finish his homework assignment, and Sylvie had taken Nikita to his room after his 7 pm feeding.

“Like what?”

“I don’t want you to keep things from me.”

“What do you want me to say, Max?” You asked in urnist. “I didn’t tell you that I saw your father. I didn’t want to tell you given what we ended up talking about.” Even if you wanted to justify it by saying that you only meant to talk to Raymond that wouldn’t help.

Max gave you a pensive look, his lips pressed into a firm line.

“I know.” He muttered before you saw his lips quiver. “What did he say?”

You shook your head. “You don’t want to know.”

“Tell me, please.” he pleaded. You shook your head not wanting to tell him before sighing.

“Something about helping mold Nico for Formula 1.” With those words, it was like you momentarily saw the color drain from Max’s face.

“He’s an asshole, and my father… and he-”

Max cut himself off with a sob. You moved closer to him, taking his face in your hands, holding his cheeks, and searching his eyes. Seeing the tears start to form, the storm brewing in the blues of his eyes.

You wanted to tell Max what Jos had said to you but thought it would be better for Max to get his thoughts out first.

“Jos had always pushed me to be the best when it comes to racing, and I, of course, let him because I thought it would make him proud of me.” He paused for a second as if he was trying to think of the right way to say something. “The only good thing he ever did for me was show me what it truly takes to be a father and love your children unconditionally.” He took in a sharp breath.

Max had pulled your hands away from his face. It was as if he needed the space to be able to get those final few thoughts out.

“There were always strings attached when it came to Jos being proud of me. If I wasn’t doing well, then he wasn’t proud of me. I know now, from the boys, that if you truly love your children, you put their interests first, always.”

That was why Max had such a hard time when Nico started karting. It was what Nico wanted at the time, and what he was still passionate about even now, but Max didn’t want to make Nico feel like, if he wasn’t doing well he wouldn’t be proud of him.

“I don’t want to feel as if he defines me, because I know that I’m nothing like him. But I can’t help it at times.” You didn’t want to keep telling Max that he was nothing like Jos. Being like Jos would always be Max’s biggest fear, and the only way that he would be able to get over it was for him to work through it. He would need you for that reassurance until the boys were old enough to be able to tell Max themselves that he had done the best that he could for them.

“I wanted to keep you away from him, so you wouldn’t see the parts of me that I get from him.” Max continued to say. “I can’t lose you, not when I’m grateful for all of the things that you have done for me, and our family.”

“You won’t lose me, I won’t let you.” You promised him.

Max was quick to drop his head afterward. “We don’t fight.”

It was true, you and Max didn’t have arguments. You weren’t those types of people.

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean that we won’t disagree on things in the future.” You said.

Max had held his hands out to you facing his palms out, inviting you to touch him. Offering himself up to you.

You moved closer to him, taking his hands in yours. “It matters that we worked it out.” He moved closer before resting his forehead against yours. “That we always find a solution, together.”

“We will.”

“I’m sorry, for getting upset with you.” He said.

“I’m sorry for not telling you that I went to lunch with Raymond and that Jos was there as well. I should have told you right after it happened.”

“It’s okay Schat,” Out of all of Max’s pet names for you that was the one he used the least. “I know you were only doing what you thought you needed to.”

“What did you say to him?” He asked muttering the words into your hair. Max was looking past you a little lost in thought.

You let out a small sigh, “I told him to respect that you don’t want him around the boys, and that Nico’s career wasn’t any of his concern.”

With those words, it put the conversation to rest. Max met your eyes, and you could see his shoulders relax.

Max pressed his lips to your forehead, and then your cheek. You let him hold you for a moment, running your fingers over his back as you felt his shoulders relax further. You slotted your head against his shoulder.

As you stood there in each other's arms the baby monitor crackled awake with the sound of Nikita fussing. You pulled back from Max before he stopped you.

“I’ll get him.” Max reached up and cupped your cheek before leaving you in the kitchen to calm him. You ended up pushing in the kitchen chairs that weren’t tucked under the counter. 

“Come, Nikita, come to Papa.” You heard over the baby monitor as you moved to sit in the living room. You could hear Nikita lightly fussing but it ended rather quickly.

You moved onto the couch taking the cashmere blanket that was hanging off the edge and laying it over your legs before you saw Max come back into the room with Nikita lying against his shoulder.

You didn’t move from your sport, instead you stayed there watching Max interact with the baby, as he gave him all of his attention. Nico had come into the living room, shoving the papers from his homework into his bag. He ended up climbing onto the couch before crawling over to you sitting in your lap, and laying his head on your shoulder.

Nico had gotten extra clingy with you now that Nikita was around. He wanted to always have your attention when he could even if you were trying to change Nikita’s diaper or make sure that Nikita wasn’t being fussy. It had taken a bit of time but eventually, Nico started to understand that you were paying more attention to Nikita because he was a baby, not because Nico had been replaced.

Max eventually joined you and Nico on the couch with Nikita tucked into his arms. You spend a little longer in the living room with them until Nico's head grew heavy against your shoulder after he fell asleep. You switch with Max, him taking Nico and putting him to bed and you taking Nikita, putting him in the bassinet that was in the master bedroom.

Eventuality both you and Max make it to bed, he can't seem to let you go once you’re under the covers sharing a few kisses before your eyes are too heavy to stay open. He pulled you flush against him, your head over his chest, his hands finding any bare skin that he could feel without the fabric of one of his shirts getting in his way.

“I love you.” You mutter into his chest. You need him to know that through every argument and all the time spent away from one another, you still love him and will always be there for him.

“Ik houd ook van jou, mijn leeuwin.” You can tell from the tone in Max’s voice that he’s almost asleep but not quite there yet. You feel one of his hands move out from under the shirt that you’re wearing before he reaches to take your hand in his. He kisses the back of your hand and then interlocks your fingers together placing it on the vacant part of his chest.

Translation:

Ik houd ook van jou - I love you too

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 7 part 1/2

Masterpost

“I see,” said Alfie, hands full of breakfast dishes. “When can I expect you to return home, Miss Cassandra?” Calm. Composed. She followed at his back with the empty water and juice pitchers.

She hummed, doing math in her head. 90 minutes on a fast bike, unknown time there, 90 minutes back. “Dinner?” Cass guessed. “Will message again at 3 with updated estimate.” She put the pitchers down beside the sink silently.

Alfie gave a brisk nod at that sensible plan. Approval. “Very well, Miss. Please drive carefully.” He paused. “And do not forget hydration and your sunscreen.”

“Love you too,” she said, and went to put on the sunscreen. Then she was a whirlwind to get ready. Athletic undersuit, first. Pullover mask in the back, a long hood design that hooked back in on itself. Convenient! Gloves in black jeans pockets. Ankle boots, good for kicking and for driving. 

Cass put her flying suit in her student backpack and put her hands on her hips. She looked around. Room? Clean enough. Equipment? Packed. Reasonable projection of needs? Cass crinkled up her brow and made her best judgment. Probably minimal. Combat not expected, companion powerful. 

“Jacket,” Cass muttered to herself, sudden realization! She darted across the house to get it. The green jacket was important. It was a talisman. It was representative. It was a civilian flying suit that reminded her she was powerful and beautiful. 

When she had it on, she went back for her student back bag and then left from the upper level garage. Black bike, nondescript. Mid range price. 

Cass paused astride the bike, feet firmly planted on either side on the crunchy white gravel of their long driveway. She unzipped the front left pocket and withdrew her phone. To Marvel, she said,

🦇 🏍️ ⬆️ == 1.5 h ⌚ 

Then she opened a new message to Batdad. She didn’t want him to worry. So she said,

💕 👋🏼  🏍️ 

The last person to get a message was Stephanie, who was not flying because she was still in medical schooling. Cass sent,

Just because it was funny. It would make Stephanie laugh.

Then she was off.

Cass pulled her black bat hood down when she found the right area. It was day. Many stares that she loftily ignored. The meeting spot wasn’t Gotham or Fawcett. The laughing magician was in dingy small town, smoking and drinking. Captain Marvel found him first and hauled him out, friendly arm over shoulder. Cass crouched on the roof of nextdoor building to silently peer down, batting a little for the comfort factor of bat things. He was still big-man Marvel-lie, but with new clothes. Happy face with torn jeans and t-shirt. She squinted. Same Marvel shoes. Hmm. No budget, Cass decided. If any budget, better shoes.

Constantine blinked up at Captain Marvel, dazed from alcohol but interested in big handsome man. “Where are you taking me, prettyboy?” He slurred. He was a mess. He reached up and cupped Marvel’s face.

Cass moved. 

Constantine noticed her rapid approach and stumbled upright. Eyes sharp, intelligent. Then: dismay. “Fuck,” he said. Very unhappy. Genuine dislike. “A bat. Which one are you?” Disdain. 

Cass frowned. “Hands off,” she demanded. She crossed her arms. “He’s baby.”

“What?” Marvel said, sounding distressed. Ah. He didn’t know that she knew.

“Really?” Constantine said, wrinkling his face up and looking between her and Marvel pointedly. Because he was a foolish little man who didn’t understand facts that walked into his life. “A nightmare like you pulled this bloke? Fuck my life.”

Yes. A nightmare. Your nightmare.

Cass stretched her mask mouth wider so the teeth would stretch and pull even bigger. She leered at him with all her scariness. He looked like he wished she would leave. Wondered if he made good decision. Regret. Regret. I run my big damn mouth.

“Hey!” Marvel rallied, totally missing the body language interplay. “She’s not a nightmare! Black Bat is very kind and smart.” He put his hands on his hips, which happily meant he had to stop supporting middle-aged wizard weight.

Constantine said some curses under his voice that she didn’t know. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. The rattling from inside told Cass: three cigarettes. No metal, no secret hidden weapon unless it closely resembled cigarette shape. Maintain wariness. He lit it on fire with his fingers.

What? No lighter? Cass saw no lighter.

While Cass was busy frowning about that the wizard turned on his heel. “Toodles,” he said, and then Marvel grabbed him. 

“Wait! We need your professional help.”

“Do I look like I’m working?” Grungy wizard demanded. He waved a hand up and down his body, showing off his sleeveless tank top and tight pants. 

“Yes.” Black Bat took a couple steps closer. She knew this. “You were working. You’re not so intoxicated. You were running a scam for funding. You need money?” She kept anything out of her tone that could sound like judgment, leaving it cold and empty. No-nonsense. “I pay for consultation.”

Grungy wizard paused, looking her up and down. He took a drag on his cigarette. Stinky wizard. He blew it out at Marvel, RUDE wizard. “Really?” He was dubious. “Where’s the catch?” Stinky wizard scrunkled his face at her. “Usually it’s all ‘you owe it to the world, it’s for the good of humanity, don’t you have any decency?” with you people.

Cass rolled her eyes. “Can we cut the-” her eyes darted to Marvel. “Bullshit?” she finished, because it was the right word even if there were little ears present. “One thousand dollars American.”

Captain Marvel looked at her, eyes wide. Shocked. Envy. Small.

Oh. She hid her sudden bad feeling. 

“...Make it one and a half thousand, Bird, that’s a love,” oozed the Stinky Wizardman. He didn’t expect, but-

“Fine.” Cass said briskly. She didn’t want to spend a lot of time on money. She pulled out her wallet and withdrew one hundred dollar bills until she had 15. The Wizard cursed jealousy and ran a hand through his hair. Marvel was fascinated. Hmm. She held it out.

The wizard wanted it. He looked. He really wanted it. But: wary. No trust. Can’t trust a bat.

She let out a disgusted sigh. Black Bat shook the bills at him impatiently. “My Black Bat fund,” she said, in a tone that meant ‘do you have a brain that thinks thoughts?’ She continued, “For my use in-suit. Obviously real money. Obviously non-consecutive legal tender.” Duh.

“Okie Dokie!” Marvel said cheerfully. “We’re back on track.”

The wizard snatched it and stuffed it in his back pocket, hungry dog, don’t take it from me, I need it. “Let’s not talk here. I have a hotel room.” 

‘Did the stinkyman invite Marvel-baby to his hotel?’

Cass cut the wizard a death look.

He coughed and avoided looking at her. 

That was a yes. “You’re a bad judge of people,” she told the wizard, voice full of disdain. “Yes. Let’s go.” She pointedly moved in between him and Marvel-baby. 

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 7 - Make it up as we go along

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Bit of assault towards Bucky (but not enough to hurt him), a just a note that this probably isn't the healthiest dynamic...

Ah surprise chapter drop! Hope you enjoy. I probably won't be able to post again until monday now. As always, I appreciate your lovely reblogs and comments. I'm so glad people are engaging with this series and I hope you continue to enjoy it!! I’m afraid I don’t have a taglist for this series, I don’t use them as I’ve had technical issues with them in the past. Sorry!

(gif not reflective of how reader looks)

You knew he was right – you needed to clear the air, and fix whatever the hell was going on between you both (if anything). But you couldn’t resist being petty, lashing out after his poor treatment of you earlier. Granny always said be the bigger person…but she was a far better than woman than you.

“Sorry. Can’t. Not on the clock,” you shot back at him as you unlocked the car.

You opened the car door and his arm moved to your shoulder, holding you firmly to stop you from getting in. You held strong, not letting his touch melt you.

“Fine. I deserve that,” he said gruffly, “but I really do want to talk to you. Please”.

The softness in his voice caught you off guard and you found you were annoyed by the sudden wobble of weakness you felt. No! STRENGTH!

You sighed heavily. “Alright. Step into my office,” you gestured to the car.

You slipped into the driver’s seat as he dropped his hold from your arm, then he followed suit by getting into the passenger seat alongside you. The Mustang’s passenger seat looked almost comically small with his big bulk spread across it.

He turned to look at you, face perfectly illuminated by the parking lot lamps. It wasn’t fair that anyone could possibly look so hot in fluorescent lighting.

“This is a nice car,” he said admiringly as he looked around the interior.

“I know” you replied curtly. “She’s my girl”.

“What’s her name?”

“Sally”.

He blinked at you.

“Mustang…Sally? Really?”

You folded your arms defiantly. “Is that a problem?”

“No…no…it’s not…” but you could see in his face he was trying to hold back one of those stupid smirks.

“If you’ve come here to make fun of me you can get the hell out…”

“No! I haven’t. Christ. It’s just funny…that’s all. It’s…cute”.

“Shut up, James”.

“Ohhh…you found that out, huh?” he grinned wickedly. “Well joke’s on you, cos I like you saying it…”

You took a second to scowl and him, then stared ahead out of the windshield with your arms crossed, hoping you looked more mysterious stranger than you did tantruming toddler. The two of you sat uncomfortably in the resulting silence.

“I’ve been an ass,” he told you, his eyes intense.

“Yes, you fucking have” you growled back at him.

“I’m sorry…really-”

“Look…Bucky,” you interrupted him aggressively. “I get it, we kissed. It didn’t mean anything to you. Fine. Whatever. But you didn’t have to ignore me…you didn’t have to parade Amber around in front of me like-”

“Sugar…”

“No! I mean how hard would it have been to drop me a text? Or tell me you made a mistake? Literally anything…”

“Sug…can I speak-”

“I’m not some random girl in a bar, Bucky! You can’t just ignore me. We work together. You’re my boss. You can’t just lay one on me and act like I don’t exist and-”

“Sugar! I’m trying to explain myself here!!” he barked, but you seemed to be on a roll…the floodgates were open.

“And another thing! Why are you getting aggressive about me meeting guys?? I can date who I like! You don’t get to be angry, especially when-MMPH!”

Bucky had clamped his large metal hand over your mouth, quite literally silencing you. Your eyes widened in shock; his tactic must’ve worked because you were briefly stunned into submission.

“I’m sorry…that was rash of me, but I literally can’t get a word in edgewise…” he told you gently, his voice quiet as if trying to talk down a spooked horse. “If you’d just let me-”

You yelped and shrieked as you wrenched his hand from your mouth in disbelief.

“What the FUCK was that?” you squawked as you struck him on the shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt, if you even could hurt him, but hard enough for him to curse and utter your name in incredulity.

Suddenly you were climbing over the seat and swatting at him, your anger boiling over. The inevitable purge after holding everything in all night. You knew it must’ve looked funny as he was so much larger than you, but your anger outweighed any self-consciousness.

“What. The. Fuck” you cried out, punctuating each word with a thwack to Bucky’s torso as he swore and tried to shuffle back, but the lack of space in the car meant he had nowhere to go. He just bumped into the passenger window as he exclaimed at you.

He quickly became tired of your attempted assault and wrapped his arms around yours, trapping them at your sides and effortlessly pulled you over the seats. “Alright,” he said tiredly. “Enough of that!”

Suddenly you were incapacitated in his hold, essentially straddling his lap as you voiced your outrage and tried to wriggle out of his hold.

“Bucky! What the-”

“You wouldn’t stop hitting me and shouting in my face! Jesus! Do you have any idea what a menace you are?”

The two of you squabbled for a little longer, faces inches apart.

“If you would just listen…”

“You can’t just DO stuff like that!”

“Why do you have to fight me on every, single, thing?”

“Why can’t you just be upfront and direct with me for once?”

A sudden silence enveloped you both as if someone had flicked an off switch, the bickering now replaced with a shared penetrating stare between you the two of you. Almost nose to nose. It was as if you both realised your close proximity in the same moment.

You weren’t sure who went in first. But it didn’t matter. He freed your hands and they flew up into his hair as he kissed you roughly, and you kissed him back just as hard. It was heated, passionate but there was anger in there too. Pent up desire and rage, a deadly combination. You nipped roughly at his bottom lip with your teeth, and he hissed and retaliated by forcefully pulling you closer into him as the kisses became deeper and sloppier and your tongue was no longer yours but a separate force you couldn’t control. His hands made their way up your back, then moved back down across your waist, then he pulled you forwards and lifted your ass up and he squeezed fistfuls of it as he moaned into your mouth. Part of you wanted to slap him and call him a pervert but you were simply too caught up to do so. It was wrong but so right. You wanted to shun him and punish him, but you also couldn’t stay away from him. Damn him.

“You’re so annoying…” he murmured softly as he dotted kisses across your jawline.

“So are you…” you retorted as you rocked your hips against his lap and stretched to get more comfortable in the cramped car.

“I should’ve implemented a skirts-only uniform policy,” he growled as his hands explored the back of your jean-clad thighs.

“Stop talking,” you managed breathily before silencing him with another kiss.

He moved you further onto his lap again and you allowed him to. He was firm in his hold but never too rough. You leaned across him to pull the lever to recline the seat but in your urgency and ungainliness you managed to hit the horn with your backside, sending a loud tone that made both of you jump.

It seemed to snap you out of your stupor as you flung yourself back against the driver’s seat, your hands recoiling away from him like your fingers had been burnt.

“No…we gotta stop this,” you panted out as you regained your composure and smoothed down your mussed hair. The silence lay thick and heavy.

He sat back against his own seat looking a little bewildered. “Yeah…sorry. You’re right. I just…lost myself a little there,” he cleared his throat.

“You hurt me,” you told him meekly and unable to meet his gaze. “I feel really embarrassed. After we kissed…you didn’t get in touch. Then tonight you almost seemed annoyed I was there when you came in. And you spent the whole time with Amber, apart from when you got pissed at me for talking to another guy”.

You chewed your lip, mortified by your own vulnerability. But you were glad you finally said it out loud. It was the most honest thing you’d ever said to him.

You could see him nodding in your periphery. “I’m sorry, Sug,” he said quietly.

He took a deep breath. “That kiss…it did mean something to me you know”.

You finally turned to look at him, surprised by his admission. “What?”

He looked back at you. He seemed…smaller, somehow. “Of course it did,” he continued. “We both felt it, didn’t we? This thing between us. I feel a little crazy around you. You’re like this…brilliant woman. Smart and funny…makes the meanest spicy ‘marg for hundreds of miles,” he grinned.

Even you couldn’t stifle a chuckle at that.

“You also get under my skin in a way nobody else does. You make me so mad. But I can’t help being near you. And when you got hurt that night…I was so angry. Angry at myself for not protecting you. Angry at you for mouthing off and not getting help. I guess…I guess it sorta pushed me to finally make a move…and then Sam interrupted and…” he sighed “Fuck. I don’t know. I suddenly felt bad. I shouldn’t be hitting on my staff. Especially injured staff…”

“Yeah…but I wanted it too, Bucky. You know I did…”

“I know…But…I dunno, I wouldn’t want you to ever think I was taking advantage”.

You swallowed, absorbing everything he’d just told you. Yeah…that was reasonable. He was your boss after all and there was always going to be a weird power dynamic there, but you still had more questions than answers.

“Bucky…” you started quietly. “If you wanted the kiss…Why did you disappear? I didn’t hear from you…and then tonight…”

He interrupted you with a noise of frustration, but seemingly towards himself rather than you.

“Alright…look. This…well, there’s no way of spinning any of this that makes me look good here, alright? But I want to be honest with you…I’m not going to lie to you”.

You nodded, grateful for his candour but uneasy about what he might say. You stiffened but still turned to him and gave him your full attention.

“Okay…so. Like I said, I wanted the kiss. And I’m glad it happened. And I was gonna text…call…and I almost did so many times, I had your contact open on my phone and everything…but I guess…I panicked a little”.

“Panicked?”

“Yeah…I mean,” he sighed. “Because I really like you. And I’m not used to that. And on top of that, I’m your boss. And…you’re leaving town soon anyway. And…our relationship is sorta, volatile? I guess? I admit this is fucked up and chicken shit of me, but I kinda freaked out. I suppose I worried that if I jumped headfirst into something with you, it might be a mess. Or worse, I might fall hard, and it would be that much harder to see you go when the time came. I know you might think this is me taking the easy way out to give you the brush off…but it’s the truth”.

You sat in silence at his admission, eyes wide and lips parted. You were surprised at how open he was. The two of you had never really done ‘direct communication’ before…and it was eye opening to say the least. You knew deep down you agreed, you already knew that finally saying goodbye to him would be tough…you didn’t want to make it any tougher.

“I still shouldn’t have left you hanging like that. I’m sorry,” he told you with sincerity. “I’m not…good at this stuff”.

“And what about you and Amber? I mean the two of you…”

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Look…there is no me and Amber…”

“But-” you interrupted harshly. “I’ve seen you..”

“No. Seriously, it’s the truth,” he explained as he ran a hand through his hair. “Amber is cute. She’s fun. Again, I won’t lie to you – we’ve fooled around in the past. But I’m not interested in pursuing anything with her. She knows that, I’ve never lied to her about that. But she tries. And I do care for her. But it’s just messing around. We flirt and it’s fun, and I know it might look I lead her on, but I consistently remind her where I stand. I guess maybe she’s hoping I’ll change my mind? I don’t want to outright ban her from the bar…but she turns up…and some of the guys are involved with her friends…and I guess I’m too clumsy to give the situation the care it deserves because I don’t want to give her false hope, but I don’t want to be outright mean to her either. I know you probably think I’m just some meathead biker juggling girls, but I don’t like hurting people who don’t deserve it”.

You noted the concern in his voice. He really did seem to care about handling it right, even if he wasn’t very good at it. But you remembered the extent of tonight and rolled your eyes.

“C’mon Bucky…that’s all very well and good…but she was sitting in your damn lap this evening. So you’re not exactly taking a hard line with her….” You scowled.

“Yeah…and did you see the part where I rolled my eyes and moved her away?”

“Oh, come on…”

“It’s true! I told her to back off, but you’d disappeared…”

“Don’t insult me…”

“I’m not, it’s the truth!” He frowned. “Okay, fine, maybe I need to be stricter with her. We’ve just been doing this back and forth for so long I sometimes forget how it must look…”

“Poor little you…”

“Oh, don’t give me that. What about you, huh? Flirting and giving out your number in front of me?”

“That’s different! You were ignoring me…I thought you’d knocked me back!”

“I saw that message was from Wanda but you made out it wasn’t…I know what you were doing. You were enjoying me being jealous…And yes, obviously I was jealous, so don’t think make a whole thing of it”.

You stopped suddenly, your cheeks feeling hot as he’d caught you out in your game. “Oops. Um…okay. Fine…”

You both sat quietly until he spoke again.

“I guess both of us have played a part in this, not being upfront with the other about how we feel”.

“Yeah…” you sighed. “That’s true enough…I’m still mad, though”.

“That’s okay. I deserve it”.

He nudged you playfully and you couldn’t help but crack a smile. Damn him.

“Look…given how much drama there’s been already between us…Maybe we should just call it, put a stop to this thing and stay just friends and colleagues. Have quieter lives as a result,” you offered, unable to mask the melancholy in your voice.

He nodded. “Yeah…that probably is for the best”.

You felt sad…but you knew it was the right move. All this drama and angst and you’d only shared a few kisses. Imagine how much worse it would get? What if you’d slept together?? And he was right earlier, this whole thing did have an expiration date. You didn’t want to have to quit your job even if it was temporary. You didn’t want to leave on bad terms because you were banging your boss, or because you were insecure about who else he was banging. It all came back to the same bottom line…you didn’t need this in your life. Not now. Not with Granny’s house.

This was for the best. This was a mature decision. This was growth.

Wait.

Wait.

Why is he looking at you like that…?

What is he….oh.

Uh oh.

“Bucky…” you pleaded softly, but his mouth was already on yours.

“Just friends,” he mumbled into your mouth.

“Just friends,” you whispered against his.

Shit.

[acinnamongirlsdiary]

𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓕𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓡𝓲𝓫𝓫𝓸𝓷𝓼-𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 1: 𝓢𝓪𝓭 𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓫𝔂 𝓛𝓓𝓡

Summary: Reader and Jacaerys are arranged to be wed. But reader doesn’t want that bc she hardly remembers him. Tension are rising with house Lannister so allies are more important then ever.

Cw: Slowburn, angst, this is genuinely just a fix-it fic, Rhaenicent, some mentions of s/a trauma but will be tagged in the chapters!!, mean dad, eventual smut but will tag in chapters, readers super apprehensive, VERY self indulgent

Pls be nice this is my first fic lol!! Feedback is very welcome tho! Banner creds to- @gwzzzly

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

You were sure your father would be the death of you. One of the most powerful and influential lords of Westeros forcing his youngest daughter to marry Queen Rhaenrya’s eldest son, Jacaerys Valeryon.

Knowing him since you were kids claimed your beating heart just a little. The thought still scared you. The idea of a loveless, political marriage was terrifying. Especially with a man you haven’t seen in 7 years.

“We’re almost to Kings landing, My Lady.” Your maid and friend, Abby, said. “Are you excited? I remember when we were younger you were so in love with him and the idea of becoming queen.”

She was right. The idea of Jacaerys and being queen was enticing, but your father’s words were causing a little apprehension to say the least.

“I don’t know.” You spoke softly, as though you were trying not to wake a bear, “I remember him being kind, but it’s been so long. What if he’s changed? What if he’s become as power hungry like most other men.”

“I choose to believe Rhaenrya would rather die then let that happen.” Abby said. She was amazing to have around. So kind an positive even when you would start to spiral.

“I’m hoping for my sake he’s understanding. I’m so nervous I don’t know how I’ll react when I see him.” You said poking out the window. The foliage and mountains were so beautiful, covered with fog ready to claim travelers.

It reminded you of simpler, softer times.

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

Getting out of the carriage and up the steps to the throne room were grueling. Your father reminding you to speak kindly and be as open as possible was stressing you out and causing you to shut down even more. He could be kind, your father as you siblings loved to remind you, but he was nothing if not arrogant through and through.

The throne room was vast but smaller than you remember. Running through it and poking your finger on the swords of the iron throne (which was just as intimidating as before). Rhaenyra and Alicent smiled at you.

“Hello sweet girl” Alicent said, pulling you into a warm hug. “It’s been so long you’re so much older!” She smiled.

“Queen Alicent! I’ve missed you!” You exclaimed wrapping your arms around her. You didn’t expect to see Jacaerys right away asking the queens where he was.

“Oh Jace is on the beach with Luke training.” Rhaenyra stated. Her warm gaze on you felt nostalgic. “Heleana will show you your room and perhaps you two can take a walk to show you around.”

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

As you walked with Heleana, your anxiety started to lower. She spoke about how kind Jacaerys was, how much you’ll like it here and how excited he was to see you again.

“He’ll be at the feast tonight. It’s all he’s spoken to Rhaenrya about for the past couple of days!” She giggled.

“Really? I didn���t expect him to be so happy.” The thought of a man so happy to see you after so long felt you with warmth.

“Oh yes. He’s gotten bigger than he was before.” She giggled “I’m sure he’ll be able to twirl you around whilst you two dance the night away!” She let go of your hand and started to spin, while looking dreamily to the sky.

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

Your nerves eased through the day, talking and having tea and picking out dresses with Abby and Heleana.

“That one will bring him to his knees.” Abby giggle, referring to a beautiful pink gown with shirt sleeves and little ruffles on the bodice. You twirl thinking of dancing with Jacaerys. His arms around you as if you were the only people in the world.

“Did you hear what Lady Carrie said?” Abby spoke as she massaged shampoo through your hair. “She was speaking to one of the Tyrell boys and how she planned to dance with him.” You gasp. The idea of Lady Carrie and him was odd. Especially with how rough he looked. “I don’t think he deserves her though.”

The night went on with gossip and preparing for the grand meal. You tried to pay attention but ever mention of Jacaerys made you both freeze up and go stiff but also become excited in ways you could hardly contain. The idea of him and you being bound together scared you. But you’re hair tied up and flowers woven through out, your makeup in light pink shades and in your beautiful pink dress, you knew you at least looked your best.

Walking into the dining room all eyes were on you. Especially Jacaerys’.

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

Sorry if this is so short! The future chapters will be longer but I just wanted to get this one out!

[hooked-on-elvis]

JUNE JUANICO DESCRIBING HOW IT FELT TO BE KISSED BY ELVIS IN 1955/1956

They talked in the car for a while, and then he wanted to go for a walk. He took her hand, and there was just enough moonlight that she could watch for the cracks in the pier’s old boards so her high heels wouldn’t get stuck. Suddenly, he stopped. He turned her around so he was behind her and slipped his hands around her waist and kissed her neck. She felt a shock of electricity, and squirmed, but he promised he wouldn’t hurt her. He kissed her tenderly, first her forehead, and each eye, then her nose, and finally her lips. She kissed him back in a way that had a future in it. "Where did you learn to kiss?" he asked, surprised at her passion. "I was just getting ready to ask you the same thing!" she said, and she still remembers what it was like: "Soft, full lips. Nothing too sloppy. Oh! It was just marvelous, a little pecking here and there, a nibble, and then a serious bite. "It started small, and then got bigger, and then went little again before ending up with a lot of eye contact."

Excerpt from book "Baby, Let's Play House: Elvis Presley and the Women Who Loved Him" by Alanna Nash (2010). Chapter 7: "Biloxi Bliss"

[1] Elvis in 1955 (age 20) photographed in Memphis, TN, at William Speer's studio; [2] Elvis Presley (age 21) photographed in a room on the sixth floor of the Peabody Hotel in Memphis, TN, last week of July 1956, by journalist Lloyd Shearer, on assignment for Parade magazine.

[febuwhump]

febuwhump 2024 survey results

has it been six months since febuwhump? yes. yes it has. nevertheless, here's the cold hard data (analysis) of the survey from febuwhump 2024: feb five.

firstly, this year was our most popular yet! with 1417 works in the official collection across 329 fandoms, we made (and shared) 103 fics more than 2023, and 770 more than my first year running febuwhump in 2021! this isnt even including all the art and fics posted to tumblr, or wasn't shared during the event, which would put our total so much higher!

the prompt list had 4000+ notes and i received 115 responses to the survey.

there were 62 people in the hall of fame, up from 51 in 2023.

the blog hit 2,683 followers, up from 1,946 at the end of the 2023 event.

across two independant check, based on the average word count of 2,000 words per fic in the 2024 collection, and aware of the multi-chapter fics (some of which were finished after the event), it is estimated that 2.8 million words were written for febuwhump 2024. which is just. fucking insane.

now, onto the survey results!

firstly: in what way did you participate in Febuwhump this year?

with extra write-ins not pictured, fanfiction was the overwhelming winner with 92 responses (82.6%), followed by original fiction (22.6%) and artwork (11.3%). interesting to me personally is the 4 responses who wrote poetry and the not-pictured 1 response who created web-weaving! which is very cool and i would like to see it.

fandoms

according to the survey:

the most popular fandoms written for were the star wars universe and legend of zelda universe (8/115 responses)

21 responses included original fiction

the majority of responses also referenced more than one fandom, meaning less people stuck to a single fandom or topic the entire time.

according to the collection:

21 anime/manga fandoms were represented

51 books/literature fandoms were represented, 12 being specific star wars subseries

24 RPF fandoms were represented, including bands and minecraft servers

the most popular fandoms written about in the collection were:

star wars (all media types) - 253 works

star wars: the bad batch - 80 works

torchwood - 66 works

original work - 56 works

my hero academia - 54 works

why and how

next, there were a lot of really lovely responses about why participants took part in febuwhump, a few favourite and repeated responses being that it seemed fun, they'd done it before and so wanted to do it again, and they liked to write about their favourite characters suffering. also, multiple people have been doing it for three of the four years i've been running it (of five total), and several were encouraged by friends!

the majority of participants discovered febuwhump through tumblr, the admin's tumblr, ao3 fics and discord servers. a handful said there's apparently a google doc floating around that houses a whump event calendar. i would be interested in seeing that if anyone's got it.

did you participate in Febuwhump 2020, 21, 22 or 23?

the majorty of respondants were new comers to febuwhump at 66.1% "no" to 33.9% "yes". the majority of comparisons to previous years referenced a noticably bigger community, more interaction on the blog, and the admin being more "confident" (oh, you guys), however several noted that the prompts felt more repetitive or samey this year than they did previously.

are you a Febuwhump completionist or participant?

a fairly even split, 51.3% of participants didn't finish compared to the 48.7% who did. however, only 88.1% of those completionists submitted to the hall of fame.

for those who didn't complete, the most common amount of prompts completed was 2 (13.6%), 3 (11.9%) and 12 or 6 (6.8%).

the most common place to share prompt fills was tumblr (74.8%), ao3 (72.2%), or choosing not to share at all (7%). several write-in responses said that they were planning to share in the future but hadn't yet. and while 76.4% of people submitted to the ao3 collection, those who didn't claimed it to be because the fics weren't ready to be shared on time, they weren't following the rules so didn't add to the collection, an inability to find the collection on ao3 (i swear i'm working on it) or shyness/fear.

what went well/even better if:

the only actual criticsm of the event received was that the blog was posting in a "spam"-like way, to the point that the participant almost unfollowed (and another suggested a reblog tag so it could be ignored easier if people didn't want to see the works throughout the month).

several comments asked for a later deadline for submission to the collection/hall of fame, which is going under advisement, but the current position is that by doing so, it makes the event a different event. there are no stakes to actually create once a day if, at the end of it, you actually get 2 weeks of extra time.

another couple mentioned there being too many dialogue prompts and vague prompts. this will be considered during the next voting period and prompt collation - potentially, if i allowed less dialogue prompts into the final 100 vote, less would make it through to the official 28, however the voting itself is out of my hands (unless voter fraud occurs once again).

the main suggestion for improvement (8 times out of 44 suggestions) was for an additional mod to help with reblogging more. (which imo flies in the face of the "spamming" from earlier, but there is surely a middle ground). this is likely to not happen, because i like running the event alone, despite the major burnout i receive every single year without fail. but thanks for your concern lol.

on discord:

31.3% of participants were in the discord server (which, this year, ignored the first year's 100 user cap and had 172 total users).

43.6% of people who didn't join the server did so because they hadn't heard of it, while the majority didn't join because they were either shy (the minorty) or don't use/like discord (the vast majority). i don't know if tumblr still does groupchats and if that would be a viable alternative, or if there is another forum/chat location that would work better (or to have in tandem), but i am open to suggestions.

of the people who were in the channel, most (33.3%) used it "rarely", followed by "most days" (25%) and "for half the month" (22.2%)

febuwhump 2025

the majority of responses wanted next year's colour scheme to either be red or green, but shout out to everyone who wanted orange, the person who said "children's hospital" and the other person who gave me this specific hex code: #4BEC13

which is vile, but also another vote for green.

finally, here are my favourite suggestions for febuwhump 2025's colloquial name. previously, we have endured febuwhump 2: electric boogaloo, febuwhump 3: tokyo drift, fourbuwhump and feb five.

febuwhump 6 suggestions:

fe6uwhump (which, i'll be honest, is a real contender)

"I don't know"

febuwhump 666

febuwhump: revenge of the sixth

"I don't know, sorry"

"febuwhump sex and make all the prompts kinky"

"??? i have been thinking about this for 10 mins"

febuwhump 6(9)

feBEEwhump

"i am bad at this"

"could not care less"

febuwhump feb five 2: electric boogaloo

apparently, i accidently made this a mandatory question and that made some of you mad :(

and that's the wrap up survey, six months late! any questions/queries/want to see some of that cold hard data? send me an ask. i'll actually respond to it i swear! (probably!)

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [7 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: The pack regroups after the deadly assault in the pass.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse, Fighting, Monsters, Animal Death, Violence, Mildly described gore

A/N: thank you all forever and ever for bearing with me as i struggle through writer’s block! i’m afraid you all won’t be happy with the results of this chapter, but i hope you have enough faith in me to stick it out and see what happens. as always, reblogs and feedback of all kinds are appreciated and always welcome!

When Steve attempts to pull the reins from your trembling hands you hold on tightly, fighting him. 

“Easy, Sweetmeat. Easy.”

The torchlight is warm and welcome in the gray mist, and by its light you can see the extent of the damage. Your hands are caked with blood and dirt, your nails raw and split. You raise a trembling hand to your chest and wince. There are wounds here too, matching claw marks like the ones you know now mark the space between your shoulder blades. 

They stretch from the base of your throat down between your breasts, cut cleanly through the ragged fabric of your dress. softness. Steve repeats it as he looses them from your grip, peeling each of your fingers back gently, until you are forced to release the bloody leather from your trembling hands. The pass is far behind, now, lost somewhere in the mist, but you fear it still, your wide, terrified eyes searching the gloom. For the sun, for more nameless horrors—

In the dark angry sky, you find neither. 

Perhaps it is morning, perhaps not—there is no sun by which to tell, no light peeking from behind the furious, roiling clouds.

Steve dismounts, landing beside the horse with a wet thud. You join him and grimace as you sink into the muck up to your calves. The ground is slick, thick with mud that sucks at your boots. The grass sea is pock marked with patches of lightning-scorched earth, patterning what little you can see in the gloomy twilight—some are bigger around than your father’s house. Above, thunder rumbles, and you watch massive bolts of lightning twist across the sky in a burning arc, lighting ablaze the distant hills where it strikes. 

Would this path have been any better? You eye the storm’s path of destruction across the sea. No, you decide, watching again as lightning cuts through the dark sky. Where there is death, there will always be death.

Steve produces a torch from his gore-stained saddlebags. He lights it, holding it aloft. The firelight is warm and welcome in the gray mist, and by its light you can see the extent of the damage. Your hands are caked with blood and dirt, your nails raw and split. You raise a trembling hand to your chest and wince. There are wounds here too, matching claw marks like the ones you know now mark the space between your shoulder blades. They stretch from the base of your throat down between your breasts, cut cleanly through the ragged fabric of your dress. 

“To me!” Steve bellows, the depth of his voice trembling in your chest. “To me!” Slowly, the pack begins to reform. Out of the darkness they come, circling the flame like lost moths. You are overcome with relief to see Carol among them. Beneath her, her steed trembles, the gash along its flank bleeding sluggishly.

So few. You cannot help but take stock of those who gather, dismounting their horses to stand before Steve. So few. The pack had been intimidatingly large before. Perhaps fifty, sixty riders strong—the ones who remain number less than forty. Steve knows it too, you can see it in the grim set of his jaw.

“Where is Bucky?” A murmur passes through the pack, but no one answers. For the first time, in Steve’s bright blue eyes, you see fear. You search for Bucky’s face amongst the survivors, your chest tightening as the realization dawns cold and clear—

You do not see him. After a long while, someone finally speaks. 

“He fell.” Carol steps forward, her head low. You watch Steve’s entire body go taut. He shakes his head, his brows knitting together in angry disbelief. 

“No.” 

 “I saw him.” She looks up, and her eyes are bright and wet. “He fell.” The wind whistles through the grass in the silence. “He fell.”

For a moment, Steve’s free hand rests upon the hilt of his sword, squeezing the pommel as if beset by foes a second time, but he releases it, clenching his fist. When he does speak, his voice is cold, devoid of anything but authority. 

“Then we will light his way to our ancestors.” The light of the torch does not seem to reach his eyes, which are shrouded, and dark. “We will light the way for all of them.” 

The fire is weak, at first, sputtering dangerously as you all feed it bundles of wet kindling. It catches, eventually, the light rain fizzling out as it meets the flames. Steve’s face is stone, dark and unchanging as he watches the flames grow tall. 

You are no stranger to mourning, to grief. Those who remain surround the fire, and their sorrow is yours too. The pass had claimed many who were kind to you, who had accepted you—

Gone. 

A young female Orc approaches the fire. Her face is bandaged roughly, and the edges of the long wound peek out on either side of the dressing. In one hand she holds a shield. Her hands are steady, but her voice trembles as she speaks. 

“Arun.” She tosses the shield into the fire. “May—” Tears choke her for a moment, and she swallows roughly. “May you find your way.” Others approach the flames, some weeping, others stoic and distant, speaking the names of those they have lost into the fire. 

“Jonai.”

“Huth.” 

“Karali.”

So many, many names. 

“May you find your way.” 

You do not know the Orc traditions for mourning, but you know your own. You have lifted your voice in song for your mother’s memory more times than you can count, praying that the crows will carry the notes high into the heavens, to her ear so that she might know that you have not forgotten her. You have no name to add to the fire, but this—this you can do. So too will you mourn for the pack, for the ones who have fallen. 

The words are slow to come at first, reluctant to leave your lips. It is not long, however, before they remember the familiar shape of these melodies; before they remember how to name your grief. So you do—you name it there, before the fire. You feed it your grief, like—and unlike—the rest of the pack. They gather behind you as you sing, bowing their heads. The song catches in your throat, the words faltering on your tongue at the sight of them.

“Finish it.” You turn back, and there is Steve, stood before the fire. He is close enough to touch it, a torn quiver held tightly in one hand. “Finish it and guide them home.” He tosses in the scrap of leather as you finish, his voice consumed almost entirely by the sound of crackling flames, and the last echoing notes of your own parting gift—

“Bucky.”

to be continued…

next

[finnsbubblegum]

I’m Sorry (Joel Miller X Reader)

Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: car accident, miscarriages (let me know if i missed any)

Summary (Series): reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah. 

Words count: 1.7k

A/N: I’m trying to make this as a rom-com, hope you like my new series! This is part 15 of Where It All Starts. But it can also be read as a standalone. I'm so grateful for all of you! Thank you for your comments, reblogs, and likes ❤️ There are still more chapters for this series so stay tuned! Love you!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Epilogue

“Should we go to my parents house this weekend and tell them?” You were sitting on the exam bed while waiting for the doctor to print your sonogram picture.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” Joel nodded.

“Sorry it took so long. Here, I printed five for you. And don’t forget to get the vitamins at the pharmacy before you leave.” The doctor passed you the sonogram pictures and a prescription.

“Thank you, doc.” You and Joel thanked her.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you on our next appointment.” She smiled.

“Do you want to wait here and sit while I get this?” Joel raised the prescription. 

“I’ll come with you.” You linked your arms to Joel’s.

“Hi, Joel.” A familiar woman and man stopped in front of the two of you.

Joel sighed. He didn’t expect to meet his ex-wife and her boyfriend again. At the obgyn in all of the places? 

“Hi.” You greeted them with a forced smile.

“Congratulations to both of you.” She pointed at the sonogram picture in Joel’s hand.

“Thank you.” You looked at her while you rubbed Joel’s arms.

“Congratulations to you too.” You pointed your eyes to her protruding belly.

Joel’s ex-wife was pregnant with her current boyfriend. She was bigger than you so it was obvious.

“I hope you’ll be a good mom this time.” Joel sarcastically said to his ex-wife. 

Even though it had been a few years, he was still hurt by her and he still hated her. He could never forgive her for what she had done. She failed her daughter but why did God give her a second chance to be a mother? He wondered. Life was not fair.

“It’s okay.” She grabbed her boyfriend's wrist as he stepped forward to Joel almost starting a fight.

“I will, Joel. I’m sorry. I hope to see Sarah sometime.” She brought up Sarah.

Joel groaned and rolled his eyes. You rubbed his arms with your thumb to calm him.

“Sure, we can set a time.” You smiled at her.

Joel turned his head to you and widened his eyes. He wanted to make his ex wife suffer by not allowing her to meet her daughter. 

“Thank you, (y/n). I hope you and your baby are healthy.” She put her hands on your upper arm.

“You too.” You smiled and parted ways.

In the car

“You okay, there?” You asked Joel as he was quiet since your meeting with his ex-wife.

He stayed quiet, not answering you.

“Joel, baby?” You called him.

He only hummed and looked straight while driving.

“I get it. You’re mad at me.” You nodded, holding the seatbelt on your chest.

“Yes, I’m mad at you. What the fuck was that?!” He raised his voice.

You trembled. Hands gripping your seatbelt tighter.

“You’ll let her see Sarah?!” He hit the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry. I just thought-I’m pregnant now and I know how a mother is connected to her baby. She grew Sarah inside her for 9 months, Joel.” You started sobbing.

“Don’t you dare cry now.” Joel growled.

“Joel, please. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“Fine, I’ll call her and tell her she can’t see Sarah anymore. If that’s what you want.” You took out your phone.

“Don’t.” Joel started driving faster.

“What do I do? What do you want me to do?” You sobbed.

Joel cleared his throat and didn’t answer you.

“Joel! Slow down! You’re gonna get us killed!” You screamed.

He kept on pressing the gas pedal and speeding up.

“Joel! Please! Stop the car! Stop it!” You cried as you screamed.

Joel hit the brake suddenly as he saw the red light. You panted as the car stopped so suddenly. Then the light turned green and Joel pressed on the gas pedal again.

"Baby, I'm sor-" Joel didn't finish his sentence. 

*car crash*

A speeding car suddenly crashed from the left side. Joel’s reflex tried his best to turn the car avoiding the crash but the car turned in circles. You screamed as the car turned. Your hand instinctively wrapped around your belly protecting your baby inside your belly. You hit your head as the car crashed. You and Joel blacked out for a moment. 

“Baby..” Joel opened his eyes and groaned at the pain. 

Joel turned his head to you but you were unconscious. He panicked and hurriedly took off his seatbelt. He was shaking.

“Baby, can you hear me?” His bloody hands cupped your cheeks.

“Baby, open your eyes. Open your eyes for me, baby, please.” Joel tapped your cheeks with his palms and sobbed.

Your ears were ringing and your vision was blurry. You blinked your eyes a few times as you heard his voice. All you could see was him, blood and pieces of glass everywhere.

“Where are you hurt?” Joel looked up and down to your body.

“J-joel..” You called his name.

“Baby, you hurt? Tell me.” He cupped your cheeks.

“Wait here. I’ll get you out.” Joel immediately got out of the car and ran to your side. 

He was in pain but he ignored it. Your safety was his priority. You were more important than him. 

“Come here, put your arms around me. I got you, baby. I got you.” Joel put his arms around you to help you out ignoring his pain.

“J-joel. I’m in pain.” You shakily put your hand on your abdomen and squeezed it.

“I know, I know. I need to get you out first. Come on.” Joel tried to lift you.

“Joel, the baby.. I can’t lose the baby.” You cried as you felt warm liquid flowing to your thigh.

“Shit.” Joel looked down to your skirt and saw blood.

“Joel..” You cried looking through his eyes.

“Eyes on me, baby. Eyes on me. Don’t look down.” He tried not to panic so you didn’t panic.

“Joel, everything hurts..” You cried on his shoulder as he dragged you out of the car. 

“Somebody call the ambulance!” Joel shouted.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” Joel cradled your head as he laid you on the ground.

Thankfully, a stranger called an ambulance and they came right away. The paramedic laid you on the wheeled stretcher and Joel’s heart broke. He blamed himself. He didn’t know what he should do. He followed you inside the ambulance and held your hand throughout the way to the hospital. You squeezed his hand in pain and he brought your hand to his lips.

“Please help my wife. She’s pregnant.” Joel begged the nurse as she brought you inside.

“Sir, you need to get treated too.” The nurse invited him to the examination bed to get treated.

Joel’s head was bleeding. His bones probably dislocated or fractured but he didn’t care. His focus was only you. He felt extremely guilty and his chest hurt. 

“Sir, we’re sending your wife to the operating room. It’s best if you get treated while you wait.” The nurse repeated again.

“Save her, please.” Joel sobbed. 

“We’ll try our best.” The nurse smiled.

Then Joel followed the nurse and got treated. He called Tommy to watch Sarah for a while but he told him not to tell Sarah what happened. Then he waited for a few hours and shook his legs in anxiety. Joel stood up right away when you were brought out from the operating room.

“How is she?” Joel asked the doctor with his casted arm.

“Sir, I’m so sorry for your loss. We couldn’t save your baby. And your wife needs a lot of rest. We need you to stay strong for her.” The doctor felt bad for telling Joel such bad news.

Joel cried as he looked at your weak body laying on the hospital bed. The nurses pushed your bed to your room while Joel followed beside you. Joel stayed beside you all the time when you were still sleeping because of the drugs.  He slept resting his head on the bed beside you, holding your hand, never letting you go. In his mind, he kept thinking how he would tell you when you regain your consciousness.

“Joel?” You whispered as you opened your eyes a little.

Joel raised his head right away when he heard you call his name.

“Hey, I’m here, baby. I’m here.” Joel stroked your head.

“Where am I?” You tried to remember what happened and your head hurts.

“You’re in the hospital. We got into a car accident.” He explained the main points.

“My head hurts.” You put your hand on your head then your stomach.

“Joel- The baby. Please, tell me it’s okay.” You started panting as you panicked.

“Baby-I-” Joel couldn’t find his words.

“Joel-please-” You sobbed.

“I-I’m sorry.” He cried.

“Joel! No! Please!” You cried gripping his shirt.

“I’m sorry, baby. It was my fault. I’m sorry.” He cried and buried your head to his chest hugging you tight.

You cried so loud. Your tears wet his shirt. You didn’t expect this would happen. 

“Bring him back! Bring him back, please!” You screamed and tried to get out of the bed looking for the doctors.

You used him for your unborn child because you could feel it would be a boy. But now he’s gone. Your baby boy was gone. Your heart was shredded into pieces at the fact you couldn’t protect your baby.

“Baby, you need to lay down. You need rest.” Joel held you from standing up.

“Don’t touch me!” You threw his hand away from you.

“It’s all your fault! None of this would happen if you didn’t speed up!” You yelled at him. Tears falling down your cheeks.

“I hate you! I hate you! And I hate myself!” You took off the IV needle that was inserted on the back of your hand and stood up.

The nurses came inside as you tried to leave the room. They held you and put you back to your bed. Your heart rate was rising and they decided to give you sedatives to calm you down. Joel cried as he saw you like that. He was guilt-ridden and helpless. He never wanted to hurt you and now you hate him. 

To be continued…

A/N: I wasn’t planning about this but when I was writing for this chapter my hands kept typing it this way. I don’t know if you like it but I hope you like it!! ❤️

Taglist:

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[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 7

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, serial killer, mentions of cartels, grief, smut

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: The chapter where we find out why Ted is on Beau's punch list aka The One With Ted... 😂

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 7: Storm Coming

May 2021

“I sold the house,” you said, your voice ripping through the quiet of the car during another starry stake-out night.

“So you’re homeless now?” Beau joked and peeled his eyes away from the front window view and glanced at you from the driver’s seat, his hand resting on the steering wheel, the other one in his lap.

You chuckled. “Yup, but I got a hot plate now in my motel room and one of those Italian moka pots. So, you know, some would say I’m living the dream.”

Beau snorted in amusement before he pensively rubbed his mouth with two fingers. “You didn’t have to sell the house, you know?”

You heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I kinda did, though… I didn’t like staying in there anymore. It’s just… too many memories, I guess? ‘Sides, I’m always down here anyways. Actually considering moving here.”

Beau frowned at you, his nose scrunching. “What, to Mexico? Are you nuts? Over my dead body are you doin’ that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a say in it,” you retorted rather playfully and put a shocked palm on your chest in mock.

“Damn right, I do,” Beau scoffed his reply with a teasing grin. “Who do you think is lookin’ out for ya, huh?”

“Wait, you think you are? That’s what you believe?” You snorted a laugh, entering banter territory with him.

It was usually how you passed your time during most of these stake-outs – laughing, teasing, and the occasional talking about your problems. You’d never known Beau like this before. He was your husband’s best friend, but he had been more of an acquaintance to you. Now, after months of spending close to every day together, it felt like he was your best friend. Since Randy’s death, he’d been there for you, even if it was mostly out of guilt.

“Yeah, what d’you think?” Beau countered challengingly.

“Oh sweetie, you’re not looking after me. I’m looking after you,” you stated confidently. The smile that twitched on his lips seemed to actually agree with you. “Out of the two of us, you’re the way bigger wreck. Some would even think it’s your husband who died, not mine.”

“Are you calling me a girl?”

You coolly shrugged your shoulders. “Either I’m calling you a girl, or I’m calling you gay. I’ll let you pick.”

Laughingly, Beau scoffed and muttered, “You wish I was gay.”

However, you still heard his mumbled reply and responded, “Actually, I wish you were a girl and that I was gay.”

Beau stared at you and leaned back against the door for a better view of you, his brow raised and the corners of his lips drawn slightly upwards in amusement. “What are we even talking about?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted with a shake of your head.

The two of you then burst into loud laughter that filled the entire SUV. For a moment, all your sorrows and hardships seemed to be forgotten, carried away to the desert with the nightly breeze. Then, the familiar and comfortable quiet took over the car again.

“I’m moving out of the house, too,” Beau said, his eyes focusing on the barren landscape and desolate road ahead. “I’m giving it to Carla. I mean, she didn’t ask me to. God knows she can take care of herself… But I want Emily to keep living in the home she grew up in, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. That’s really nice,” you said quietly. Your soft smile then morphed to a grin. “So you’re homeless, too, huh?”

Beau laughed, throwing his head back into the seat. “Yeah, guess I am. Maybe we should live together?” he suggested half-jokingly.

“Like roommates? Ugh, God no!” You scoffed in abhorrence. “We’re way too old for that. You’re over forty, I’m barely in my thirties–”

“You do know I know exactly how old you really are, right?” Beau teased.

You decided to ignore that jab and continued, unbothered. “It would be seriously so sad. The Widow And The Divorcee – sounds like the worst sitcom on the planet. ‘Sides, it’d be super awkward if one of us starts dating again.”

“Fine, maybe you’re right,” Beau relented with a soft chuckle and then glanced at you sideways. His heart gained speed in his chest. “You ever think about it? Dating? Gettin’ out there again? Been nine months.”

You twitched your shoulders, choosing not to look at him. “I don’t know. Is nine months long enough after your husband died?”

Thoughtfully, Beau licked his lips and let out a small sigh. “I don’t think there’s a timeline, or a right and wrong. I just think it’s one of those things that when you’re ready, you’re ready.”
 “Well, consider me not ready then, I guess,” you replied honestly.

“Alright,” Beau accepted, bobbing his head. “But I still think you should try again at some point, you know? You shouldn’t be alone for the rest of your life. First of all, it’d be a total waste, ‘cause, I mean, look at you. And secondly, you’re barely in your thirties, after all,” he repeated your earlier joke with a soft grin.

You felt the heat creep to your cheeks in the moonlight. As you looked at him, you could see his smirk, making you laugh. “Noted,” you replied and were thankful for his pep talk. “I mean, there’ve been offers.”

Beau quirked one eyebrow, a hard lump forming in his throat as his chest tightened. “Offers? Like plural? Who?”

“Well, just some of the guys from our team. Cody, Jordan, Ted…” you named a few. “Also a few locals. Remember those guys we played pool with a few weeks ago? Two of ‘em asked for my number.”

“Huh. That is plural…” Beau pursed his lips and couldn’t keep his brow from wrinkling, his grip on the steering wheel stiffening. “Well, you know, when you’re not ready, you’re not ready. Shouldn’t force anything. No rush, darlin’.”

Smooth, Beau thought wryly with an internal sigh.

“Right, I know,” you agreed. “I do miss sex, though. Getting kinda bored of my vibrator.”

Beau choked on his spit. “Jesus…”

“What? Am I not allowed to talk about it? I thought we were friends. You’re supposed to care about my well-being and happiness,” you argued, frowning.

“I do care. Just… Can we please not talk about that?” he begged and exhaled a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his freckled nose.

“Fine. I miss having women around…” You shrugged and muttered, “Didn’t peg you for a prude.”

“Okay, let’s just get one thing straight – I’m not a prude,” he clarified in defense, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

“Alright, also noted,” you quipped, smirking to yourself. Sometimes you enjoyed making him a little uncomfortable. His blushed cheeks could be quite cute. “What about you? Have you still not talked to Carla? I’m sure you can win her back if you tried. You’re a lot better now.”

“Well, thank you for the, uh, vote of confidence, but it’s really over, I guess. We just talked about all the divorce proceedings last time. I actually think she started datin’ someone recently,” Beau told you.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really? Who?”

“I guess some rich tech guy. I don’t know…”

“And you’re good with that?” you questioned in disbelief.

Beau scoffed a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Ha, no… But what am I gonna do? Kinda shot myself in the leg with that one. I don’t blame her for moving on. It’s been over for months now.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry. I was kinda rooting for you two,” you admitted.

“Well, thanks, but we weren’t you and Randy,” Beau said. It made your brow knit.

“What d’you mean?”

“C’mon, you know what I mean,” Beau replied as if it were obvious, but you still shook your head. He sighed. “You and Randy would’ve never gotten divorced.”

“You don’t know that.” Honestly, you doubted it yourself, but you were too curious to find out what he meant by his statement.

“I do know that,” Beau insisted with certainty. “You guys had that once-in-a-lifetime kinda love. The kind that made other people jealous, you know? Your love made every other relationship pale in comparison. I always figured once the honeymoon phase was over, you’d settle and be less vomit-inducing, but that never happened. Me and Carla were never like that. Not even in the beginning,” he explained, a small, soft smile shaping his mouth. “You guys were special. True love. The stuff folk singers write cheesy songs about.”

“I guess we were,” you mused quietly, the memory of everything Randy was to you causing tears to well in your eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Beau apologized as soon as he noticed the sadness on your face. He reached his hand over to your side and squeezed your thigh gently, just above the knee.

“No, it’s alright,” you brushed him off, swallowing your heartache down. “But hey, if Carla wasn’t your once-in-a-lifetime, maybe she’s still out there. You just haven’t found her yet. I mean, that’s kinda a nice outlook, right?”

Licking his lips, he bobbed his head, his gaze focused on his hand on the steering wheel. “I doubt it.”

“Why? Never say never,” you said encouragingly.

“Well, maybe I already met her, and it’s too late now,” he replied. It sounded more like an actual fact than a hypothetical theory. You found yourself wondering.

“What, did you have like an old college flame? The one that got away?” you teased lightheartedly, but he only grew more serious.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replied vaguely, rubbing his mouth with his fingers.

“Look her up on Facebook. Maybe she’s divorced, too. You could reconnect or something,” you suggested. He nodded but didn’t seem too convinced. You then shot him a hesitant glance from your periphery. “So, now that Carla’s moving on, are you gonna start dating now, too? Jump back into the game?”

“I guess so… Why?” A part of him was curious to hear your response, while another part reminded him that his desired answer was only wishful thinking – and completely insane on top of that.

“That fiery brunette lady at the bar last night seemed really interested in you. Maybe you should hook up with her if she’s there again tomorrow night?” you proposed in earnest.

Wide-eyed, Beau blinked at you in incredulity – like you had lost your goddamn mind. “I’m sorry, what?! Hook up? Who are you right now? Are you tryin’ to set me up?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged simply, not seeing what the big problem was. “Don’t look at me like I’m trying to convince you to get a tramp stamp above your ass with a dirty needle. I’m just trying to be a good wingman… woman. Randy would’ve tried to set you up, right?”

Beau sighed frustratedly. “Yeah, he would’ve,” he admitted in a grumble and then barked, slightly more furious, “But you ain’t him. And I don’t want you to be, so stop it, alright?”

“Geez, I’m sorry. I was just trying to help,” you mumbled defensively and raised your hands in surrender, unsuccessfully hiding your upset over his reaction. He felt guilty when he saw the small pout on your face.

Beau rubbed his forehead before dragging his palm over the rest of his face. “I know. I’m sorry, too,” he said and let out a deep breath through his nose. “I just-… I guess I’m just waiting, okay?”

“Waiting for what?”

Beau squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. For you to be ready, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t very well do that now, could he?

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N…” he breathed exhaustively. That was all he managed to say. With his palm on his mouth, he rested his elbow against the car door, gazing out the window.

“Why are you so upset?” you asked, your brow woven with confusion.

“Switch subjects,” he requested.

It was a phrase the two of you used whenever you didn’t want to talk about something anymore. When someone pushed too much, or the topic got too emotional and you needed a break. The only rule was to always respect the request, so you had no choice but to let it go after that.

“The Texans game sucked last night, huh?”

That elicited a snort from him, and he looked at you with a warm smile. “Yeah, goddamn awful.”

“How many times are you gonna watch those?”

Beau’s question broke your concentration. Your gaze snapped from your laptop screen to his concerned face. You’d been rewatching the victims’ videos for four days straight now, trying to find more clues. Maybe even something that directly led to Diane.

“I keep thinking maybe I’ve missed something,” you mumbled and stared back into the computer, your teeth gnawing on the pen between your lips. “It’s 48 hours each. We have twenty-four victims. I keep watching them sped-up to get through them all, but maybe I should slow ‘em down. I mean, I’ve watched them full-length, normal speed a couple of times before, but maybe I should watch ‘em even slower and really focus, you know? There’s gotta be something there…”

Bobbing his head worriedly, Beau pursed his lips and took a scan of your desk. He counted eight empty cups of coffee and five cans of energy drinks. There were bags under your red eyes and your hands were jittering. He knew you hadn’t slept a lot. He tried to hold you in his arms, but as soon as he dozed off, you snuck out and went back to work.

Beau shut the laptop. “You’re cut off.”

“Hey!”

“Y/N, you need to sleep. Just look at you, darlin’. This obsession isn’t healthy. I’m taking you home,” he declared sternly, ignoring your protests. You were pretty sure he had used his dad voice, too.

“Y/N, you need to sleep. Just look at you, darlin’. This obsession isn’t healthy. I’m taking you home,” he declared sternly, ignoring your protests. You were pretty sure he had used his dad voice, too.

“I need that woman in prison, Beau.”

“You startin’ to sound like Jenny…” Beau quipped under his breath.

“We’re running out of time. There’s only one day left before the next victim drops,” you stated and tried your best to keep your voice steady as it broke off towards the end.

“I know.” Beau clasped your shoulder and squeezed gently. ��And we’ll get her. I promise you. But you’re no good to any of us if you’re exhausted and losing it right now.” You nodded and rose from your chair. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against him, kissing the top of your head affectionately. “How about some dinner, huh?”

You grinned warmly. “What, like a second date?”

“Exactly like a second date,” Beau said and mirrored your grin. He was making up for lost time as best as he could, even if it meant taking you out every night for the rest of your life.

Your phone buzzed on the table, your brow quirking at the number. Eagerly, you picked up and wound yourself out of Beau’s embrace. “Special Agent Y/L/N… Uh-huh… Great, thank you.”

Beau pursed his lips. “We’re not going out, are we?”

“‘fraid not, Sheriff.” You shook your head and chuckled at his groan. “That was IT. They’re finally done and sending over the IP addresses.”

“Alright, guess I’m gettin’ take out,” Beau announced with a small sigh, knowing the two of you were in for a long night – and not the one he had planned.

You smiled and pecked his lips. “Thank you.”

August 2020

Beau’s heart thudded frantically in his chest as his knuckles tapped your front door in the early evening. The sky was a color spectacle full of azures, indigos, and apricots as the summer sun slowly set. His boots only stood on that same spot not even twenty-four hours ago. It still felt like a surreal nightmare he couldn’t escape, his hope to wake up soon a ceaseless prayer.

He’d stayed with you all night, held you as you cried yourself to sleep. Beau awoke on your couch with your head resting on his thigh and a strange feeling in his gut. He couldn’t help but think you were beautiful, even in a state of utter turmoil, shoving said thought swiftly down into the depths of his darkening soul.

But he’d spent all day thinking of you, plagued by guilt and torn by misplaced feelings. He’d sat through hours of interviews, going over and over the events of last night till his mind spun like a hamster wheel. He was forced to fill out forms, sign documents, and recount each unforgettable step. He’d listened to lectures, sermons, and admonitions. His captain gave him a tongue-lashing that sounded like mere white noise before he was sent home with a suspension – investigation pending.

Only he didn’t go home; he came here.

At home, his wife and daughter were waiting – for a husband, a father, an explanation. None of which he could provide. Beau wanted to wallow in his grief, his guilt, his loss in peace. He lacked the strength to be strong, play pretend, and act above it all. He wanted to be punished, sent to perdition, and held accountable for his lapse of judgment. A suspension wasn’t good enough. It barely patched the abysmal gaps in his heart.

The only suitable punishment was you. Witnessing your suffering was his personally crafted hell. You were the broken remnants of his destruction, the shattered pieces of his idiocy, the explosive fallout of his arrogance.

And you hadn’t answered a single call or text of his. His torturous worry was part of his penalty.

Consecutive rings of the doorbell and incessant knocks remained unanswered. For a moment, Beau rested his forehead on the door. He felt helpless and clueless all the same. You had friends and family to take care of you, probably better suited and closer to you than him, but somehow he felt burdened with the responsibility.

He took the spare key out of the left-side planter and barged inside. The ground floor was deserted. Last night’s uneaten dinner still sat untouched on the table. It felt like a whiplash against his bare back.

Bolting upstairs, he found the door to the main bedroom ajar. He pried it open slowly, the sight of you delivering his second lashing. This time, he felt the sting burning through to his heart.

He found you curled up in bed, on your husband’s side, in your husband’s t-shirt, with your wedding photo album clutched tightly in your arms. His breath halted for a moment; his heart did, too.

Did he do this? Was this all his fault?

“Y/N?” His deep voice was quiet and careful as he spoke. Slowly, he walked over to your side and knelt down in front of you. “Darlin’, hey… You need to get up. Eat somethin’.”

Beau was sure you hadn’t moved all day. He didn’t ask you if you were alright or how you were doing. The question seemed insulting. The answer was obvious. Your phone was lighting up on the nightstand with a million unanswered calls and messages, his own among them. Your beautiful eyes were vacant, red, and empty. You didn’t cry, however, not anymore. You were dehydrated and all out of tears at this point. You never looked at him, not even a glance.

“I want him back,” you whispered, your voice coarse from screaming, crying, cursing.

Beau nodded, licking his lips. Caringly, he caressed your head, brushing a few strands of messy hair out of your face. “I know. I hope you know I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat if I could.”

For the first time your eyes found his. Your gaze was scathing and piercing. “Tell me what happened.”

Beau let out a harrowing sigh. He had rehashed the story all day long. He wasn’t sure if he could do it again, but maybe this version was the most important one. Who deserved the truth more than you?

“Y/N, I don’t think this is such a good idea, darlin’,” Beau tried to reason, mostly for himself. He wanted to hold on a little longer, the idea of you hating him tearing him apart. He wanted to spare himself the additional guilt, the anger, the hurt.

“Tell me or leave.”

Beau closed his eyes and nodded hesitantly. “Okay, alright.” He took a deep breath and settled down on the floor, leaning his back against the wooden bedside table. “We were closing in on that biker gang. Few murders, arms trafficking, drug deals… You know the drill. I’m sure Ra-… he filled you in.”

Not that long ago, Randy had asked you for advise on the case. You gave him your contacts in the DEA and a number to a CI.

“Your DEA guy warned us. Said the gang was working closely with the cartel down in Juárez. But I had my own intel that only a few members were meeting at the Hatcher warehouse in MacGregor. It was supposed to be a small deal. But I figured it could lead to bigger things if we shook ‘em down, you know? But fuckin’ Harper told us no like usual. Refused to give us back-up. Said to pass the case on to the DEA. But Randy and I worked our asses off the last few months to get even this far. We were so close. I didn’t wanna let go… So, I suggested we go in anyways. It was supposed to be only three guys from the gang. I knew if we were smart about it, we could easily take ‘em down, you know?”

You rolled onto your back and propped yourself up on the bed. Shaking your head, you chuckled humorlessly and grabbed the half-empty whiskey bottle from the nightstand. “‘Course you did. It’s not the first time you broke a rule or shit on authority.”

“Yeah, and I was right every single time,” Beau bit. His anger wasn’t geared at you but at himself. He knew he was in the wrong. He flew too close to the sun and got burned. But he still felt the need to defend himself, even if it was unjustified.

His gaze drifted to the dresser and the patch of wall above it, decorated with photographic evidence of yours and his partner’s life together. The wedding, dates, vacations, holidays – it was all there. Beau had watched it all, start to finish. He wished he could rewind the tape and cut off the ending, all so you could have the love of your life back. He didn’t know yet your cassette had a B-side. One that featured him.

“You got fucking lucky, is all,” you scoffed.

“Randy backed me up on it!”

“Of course he did! You’re his fucking partner! He would’ve followed you anywhere if you asked him to,” you snapped, shaking your head. You gulped down some whiskey then and locked your jaw before you met his eyes again with a glare. “And? What happened then, Beau? Was it only three guys?”

“No.” The word was almost inaudible. He shook his head with a harsh swallow. “They were meetin’ with a few cartel members there. My intel never said anything about that. When we were inside and saw what was really going on, it was already too late to get out. They made us, bullets started flyin’… They got a hold of Randy and… shot him.” A tear escaped down his cheek, his throat closing as he tried to choke out the last bit of the story. “I had to leave him there. I barely got out myself. I’m sorry, Y/N. I know this is on me.”

Your lips twitched with a bitter smile. You didn’t look at him, just rubbed your tired eyes. “Damn right it is. Get out.”

“Y/N, please–”

The storm in your eyes made him stop as you met his gaze, his useless apologies becoming stuck in his throat. “I said, get out. I ain’t asking a third time. You’re the reason my husband is dead. You’re the reason I don’t even have a body to bury. So, get the fuck out.” Like a snakebite, your words were targeted, sharp, and venomous.

You finally got out of bed and prodded towards the en-suite bathroom. The truth had been what you needed to switch the fighter inside of you back on. You knew what you wanted to do then and were determined to get it.

“Y/N–”

“Do you know what cartels do to bodies, Beau? To rivals? To law enforcement? ‘Cause I just came back from a job where we found forty-eight decapitated bodies, left to rot inside the walls of a house. Still haven’t found the heads yet. Probably never will,” you told him and stared him dead into his dark green eyes. “Ever seen that before, desperado?”

Beau bit his lips, averting his gaze. “No.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “Now, leave. Please. Get the fuck outta my house. I don’t wanna see you anymore,” you spat and slammed the bathroom door shut behind you.

Beau then grabbed the whiskey bottle you’d left and walked out of your home. It was the first of many nights he started to drink himself to sleep, but at least it kept the nightmares temporarily at bay.

“Theodore.” Beau forced a bright smile onto his freckle-dusted face, although the stiff features could barely fool anyone. At least, they wouldn’t have fooled you.

“Beau, good to see you again.” Ted smiled and did a more convincing job of it as he waltzed into Lewis and Clark County’s Sheriff’s Department. It almost seemed like he meant it. “I was surprised when Y/N told me you got a gig as a sheriff here.”

Translation: I was surprised because you were such a fuck-up back in Texas.

Beau feigned a chuckle. “Yeah, I bet you were.”

“Hopefully, you’re givin’ the DAs here less headaches,” Ted jabbed under the disguise of friendly banter. He then turned to Jenny with that same shit-eating grin. “Your sheriff is a little troublemaker.”

Sweet Lord, Beau wanted to whack the bastard.

The blonde deputy coolly brushed the accusation off. She shrugged and playfully nudged Beau’s arm, sending the Texan attorney a smile. “I prefer him that way.”

“Hey, there she is!” Beau smiled with frazzled relief when you finally hurried into the station. A little while longer, and he definitely would’ve thrown a punch.

“Hey, Ted. Thanks for coming. How was your flight?” You greeted him with a warm smile and a quick hug.

“Good, good. Never been to Montana before,” Ted said and then let his eyes wander up and down your body. “Look at you. You look great!”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” You subtly cleared your throat. You could physically feel Beau stiffen next to you. In your periphery, you could spy a tightly clenched jaw and a few strained muscles in his neck.

“Mind if Y/N and I borrow your office, Sheriff Arlen?” Ted asked and emphasized his title. “Considering the nature of this case, I’d like to keep it as private as possible. Don’t want anything to reach Ms. Newton’s ears.”

Your hunch had been right. Several IP addresses pointed to Diane, some to public Wi-Fi’s. You and the team still needed to connect her to the other states and find out where she’d been staying there, but you could definitely trace some posts in recent weeks to her home in Montana. It was enough for an arrest warrant, but you still needed more evidence.

Additionally, it had all come together a little too easily. It seemed like a giant trap you were walking into. Diane wanted to be caught. But why?

“Why don’t I just join you? I’m sure Y/N here doesn’t mind,” Beau suggested with a tight smile and then snaked his arm around your middle, pulling you closer. “Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Internally, you sighed a little at his obvious territorial pissing, but you were willing to throw him a bone. You stretched up and claimed his plump lips in a fervent kiss that Beau only all too happily reciprocated.

“Not at all, Sheriff. You know I always appreciate your input,” you replied with a dirty smirk at the double entendre.

As Beau looked down at you, he mouthed ‘God, I love you.’ You grinned in response.

“Happy to give it to you,” he said with another sweet peck of your lips. A triumphant and slightly cocky grin graced his lips as he looked back at Ted.

“Oh, so you two are back together?” Ted realized, his brow rising to his hairline. He’d never seen you two together but certainly had heard the whispers down in Mexico from your old task force. He’d been the DA for those cases as well. You’d never explicitly told him about you and Beau, though, even when he had tried to pry a little on those dates you went on.

“Well, I’m a hard one to quit,” Beau quipped almost proudly, like a peacock showing off his fan of feathers.

“As are cigarettes and many other vices,” Ted shot back with the same stupidly proud grin.

Translation: You’re an ass. And a failure. She deserves so much better. I’m ‘better.’ But maybe that didn't need a translation.

Beau should’ve known it was hard to out-argue a lawyer and ground his jaw. After all, he’d been married to one for many years.

You, on the other hand, shared a wide-eyed and baffled look with Jenny that bordered on amusement. You had almost gasped in shock. You hadn’t expected such a fiery reply, sure the men would stick to their Southern manners. But, oh well, everyone’s packing in fucking Texas…

“Why don’t you two go ahead? I’ll join you in a minute,” you ordered more than you earnestly proposed and shooed the two men down the hallway towards Beau’s office.

“Sure it’s such a good idea to lock those two in a room alone?” Jenny teased, her eyes lingering a little too long on Ted’s perfectly formed ass as he sauntered down the hall.

You couldn’t blame her. You had checked out Beau’s in the same breath.

“It’s only for a short time. They’re not gonna kill each other,” you laughed it off. Jenny arched a doubtful eyebrow at you. “That quickly,” you added a correction. “So, what did I miss here?” you asked and nodded towards the two men, closing the door to Beau’s office behind them. All you heard last was them talking about the recent Texans game.

Ugh, of course, they’d end up by football…

“Dick measuring contest,” Jenny supplied wryly.

“Ah, figured…”

“Well, better them than to lock Agent Y/L/N and the sheriff into the same room,” Poppernak joked with a soft chuckle as he appeared next to you and Jenny, chiming into the conversation.

You gaped at him in mock-shock. “Mo! I can’t believe you just said that,” you chided playfully.

His cheeks turned crimson red. “I’m sorry, Special Agent Y/L/N,” he apologized in a fluster.

“Mo, I told you to call me by my first name,” you reminded him with a smile. “Or I’m gonna have to start giving you silly names like Beau does.”

“Oh, I love Sheriff Arlen’s nicknames,” he quickly defended with a nervous laugh.

“Do you?” Jenny tilted her head with a questioning eyebrow.

He shrugged. “They’re clever.”

August 2020

“Old Fashioned,” you ordered with a look at the bartender, feeling Beau’s confused eyes and crinkled brow wander up to you. “Couldn’t have picked a nicer bar, huh? This place is a dump. You know that, right?”

Beau clicked his tongue and took a sip from his Ranch Water. “What are you doing here? Thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You let out a small sigh but didn’t meet his gaze. “Carla called me. Your family is worried about you.”

“I didn’t tell her where I was. How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. Carla said you haven’t been home in three days. Figured you’d gone on a bender. This is the fifth cop bar I checked out. Finally got lucky,” you said and thanked the bartender as he placed his drink in front of you. You settled down on a barstool next to Beau.

“Quite the effort. Sure I’m worth it?”

Your tongue swept over your lips. “Beau, look at me.” His forest-green eyes found yours upon your soft plea. “I’m sorry I put all that shit on you. It wasn’t fair. It’s not your fault, okay? His death isn’t on you. I know you loved him like a brother.”

“I did.” Beau took another sip of his drink. “But it is my fault. I was reckless and arrogant. We both know it.”

“It was a set-up, alright? I talked to my DEA contact. Cody said your intel was wrong. They knew you and Randy were closing in on them. They wanted to get rid of you,” you explained.

Beau smacked his lips. “I still shoulda known better. I should’ve seen it was a trap.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. You couldn’t say you would’ve done the same thing, but you knew Beau would’ve never purposely put Randy in danger if he had even the faintest idea. “But it could’ve happened to anybody. This was bigger than you knew.”

“It wouldn’t have happened to you,” he stated quietly. You couldn’t argue with that. You were more by-the-book than he was. You would’ve never gone against a superior’s order. You would’ve respected it.

“Look, just go home. Talk to your wife. Get some help,” you said. “You missed your suspension hearing, but I spoke on your behalf. Told them it wasn’t your fault. The DEA backed me. Harper’s gonna reinstate you. Just come back as soon as you’re ready.”

Beau nodded slowly. Even if he didn’t say it, you could tell he was thankful for your efforts. “I can’t go home.”

Your brow furrowed. “Why? I’m sure Carla will understand. You need to talk to someone about this. Go to therapy – and not the alcoholic kind. Losing a partner is not something you get over quickly. You need people in your corner, including your wife.”

“You mean the wife that lets criminals out on the street?” Beau’s gaze was focused on the glass in his hands. The wrinkles on your brow deepened. “The guy that shot him… Carla’s his defense attorney. Was, at least. He was supposed to do time, but two months ago, she got him paroled.” With a dark chuckle, he emptied his glass.

“Beau…” You knew he had always struggled with Carla’s job, making you sometimes wonder about their dinner conversations at home. “It ain’t her fault more than it is yours. She’s just doing her job. You know that. You’ve been together for so long, you’d think you’re used to it by now.”

Beau scoffed a chuckle and gestured to the bartender for a refill. “I was a young cop back then. Wasn’t on the job as long. I didn’t know it would bother me so much. Still lived in that hopeful bubble, I guess.”

You smiled knowingly. “You mean the ‘I didn’t think I’d see as much shit and injustice as I do now’ bubble?”

He snickered softly. “Yep, that one. Just didn’t think it’d be this hard, you know?”

“I get it. I mean, me and Carla butt heads all the time over this stuff. But we do it in a competitive fun way and then get drunk,” you said with a light chuckle. “Guess it’s different when you’re married, though, huh?”

“Yeah, it is…” he sighed.

“Still, go home. Talk to her,” you encouraged but could see your words of wisdom fell on deaf ears. “By the way, the funeral’s on Saturday.”

He turned his gaze away from his glass and found your eyes. “You need any help with that?”

“Maybe you can give a eulogy. You knew him best. I think he would’ve really liked that,” you said with a warm smile. No matter your own feelings, you knew deep down Randy would’ve wanted you to forgive his partner.

“Yeah, I can do that. Anything you need, okay?” Beau clasped your hand that laid on the bar counter and squeezed reassuringly before dropping it again.

You smiled appreciatively and teased, “Maybe show up sober. Or at least close-to.”

Beau chuckled a little. “I promise.”

You stood up from your seat then and put some cash for your drink on the counter. “Alright, I’m heading home. You need me to call you a cab?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just gonna finish this drink, then I’ll head out, too,” he said.

“You sure? Don’t make me come back here,” you threatened playfully.

Beau laughed softly. “I won’t. Thanks for everything, Y/N. I mean it.”

You sent him a smile and gave his shoulder a squeeze on your way out. “You’re welcome. Get home safe, okay?”

However, Beau couldn’t keep any of his promises. He made it home after three more drinks and woke up on the front lawn of his house. Carla wasn’t happy when she found him in the morning as she brought Emily to school. But Beau couldn’t stop. Every time he closed his eyes, the tragic events flashed before him like a horror movie, witnessing Randy’s death in a never-ending loop. He kept seeing his partner get dragged away, heard the shot over and over again like a rain of bullets without a ceasefire.

The guilt was eating him alive. The guilt of getting his partner into this mess in the first place. Of leaving him behind. Of surviving and coming out alive when he didn’t deserve to.

So, Beau kept drinking to forget, even though he knew it was a futile endeavor. The memory would never fade, but at least it was blurred.

Your heavy breaths echoed through the small trailer. His mouth moved down the column of your throat, leaving a wet path of ravenous love bites in its wake.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned wantonly, his grip on your flesh punishing as he kept you pressed flush against him while he devoured you on the little dining table. Your ass sat on the wooden surface, your crossed ankles locked tightly behind his muscular back.

“God, you made me so happy today,” he growled against the shell of your ear, his rising length rubbing against your core through layers of denim.

“I can see that.” You giggled, your hands dangling in his hair. “There’s no need to hate him so much, you know?”

“Says you,” Beau quipped and unzipped your jeans, eagerly pulling them off you as his mouth sucked your clavicle purple and blue. “That slimy coyote always had it out for me.”

Beau removed your panties as well, tossing them behind his shoulder where they landed in the kitchen sink. “Whoops.” He grinned charmingly but was unstoppable, freeing his throbbing dick as he shoved his jeans and boxers barely over his ass. He didn’t bother to slip out of them all the way, too impatient to wait any longer to enter you.

“Still, I’m already yours. I’ve always been yours,” you said and braced yourself on his broad shoulders as one large hand on your back pulled you closer to the edge of the table. His other hand grabbed his cock, twisting his fist along the hard, long shaft a few times before he glided his cockhead through your slick folds.

“Not always.” With one harsh thrust, he pushed inside you, your tight walls fighting to make room for him and adjust to his stretch.

You gasped at the pleasurable burn that coursed through your body and ignited every sizzling nerve. He dropped his head to your shoulder, giving both of you some time to get used to each other. You could tell you were in for a wilder ride tonight. You always loved when he fucked you rough and hard. There was something raw and animalistic about the need in his hypnotizing green eyes.

Beau then claimed your lips with one fervent kiss, enough of a spark to cause a wildfire. He met your gaze, hands gingerly cupping your cheeks. “But I love that you’re mine now. And I’m sure as hell gonna make you mine tonight, darlin’.”

You crashed your lips against his, your kisses frenzied and untamed as his hips began to slam into you. His pounds into your pussy were relentless as you swallowed every inch of him. You gripped him tight, already feeling your first orgasm bloom. It accumulated like dark, violent storm clouds on the horizon, forecasting roaring thunder and heavy rainfall.

“Oh God! Fuck, baby!” You screamed as your climax tore through you like a hurricane, your cunt gushing on his cock and pulsing around him. Your nails dug into his shoulder blades and scratched down his back as you came undone.

Beau groaned into your ear, squeezing his eyes shut as he barely held on himself. But he didn’t let up and kept up his furious pace, not ready to stop yet. “Shit, keep doing that. You’re so fucking tight, Y/N,” he grunted against your skin, your sensitive flesh barely withstanding his ruthless pumps. “Want you to come again, darlin’.”

With his declaration, his hand slipped between your sweat-clad bodies. You came close to losing your mind as he thumbed furiously at your clit, the stars already starting to twinkle in front of your eyes. You could feel yourself get shoved to the edge once more, staring down the steep cliffs of white-hot ecstasy.

Your mind was consumed by need, his grip on your hips bruising as you exploded. You cried out raucously, your whole body quaking in his hold upon your eruption, the aftershocks so powerful they could cause cracks in your bones.

Beau spilled his seed deep inside of you, his body stuttering in rhythm with yours as your earthquake took him down with you. Hazy gazes met each other with lazy smiles as ragged breaths mingled.

“Fuck, that was good. I think that one might make it into our Top Ten.” Beau chuckled gravelly and placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

“Hmm, not sure. We have a few greatest hits.” You giggled and bit down on your lower lip with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “Can I tell you something?”

Beau cupped your cheeks, thumbs caressing the heated and rosy skin as he lifted your gaze. “Anything.”

“Just between us, you’re the best lover I ever had,” you confessed with a wide grin. The corners of his mouth rose to match yours.

“Well, between us, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. You’re it, darlin’. You know that, right? You’re the love of my life,” Beau revealed, making you smile brighter than you ever had before.

“I’m not sure about the sex, but this moment, right here, is probably gonna make it into the Top Ten,” you said softly as a few tears stung your eyes.

“Good.” Beau smiled and pecked your forehead.

The buzzing of a phone shifted your attention. You recognized it as yours, and Beau was quick to retrieve it from your jeans pocket in the pile of clothes on the floor.

“It’s Jenny,” you told him before picking up. “Hello… What?! Uh-huh, we’ll be right there.”

Beau’s brow furrowed as he watched your features flicker through an array of emotions. “Bad news?”

“Uhm, honestly, I don’t know,” you said and swallowed some of your confusion down, gathering your thoughts. “Jenny said Diane just walked into the station and gave herself up. She is ready to confess but only wants to talk to us.”

“Us? As in us two?” Beau’s eyes narrowed. You nodded. “Well, that doesn’t sound fishy at all,” he commented wryly.

“Yup, I don’t like it.”

Chapter 8: Chemical Bonds – JUNE 26

A lot of revelations and foreboding in this one... 👀 Also, I just love having Beau say the word "coyotes" for some reason 😂

Join the TAG LIST here! 🌌 Wanna sponsor my caffeine addiction? ☕️

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @autistic-gothic

Everything Beau Arlen: @snowayumi

Polaris Series: @corruptedcruiser @spnfamily-j2

[bigtreefest]

Bigger Houses Masterlist

An Ari Levinson Series based off Dan + Shay’s latest album

Mountain Ranger! Ari x Female Reader

Main Masterlist

Series Summary: A year after shattering break-ups, two hearts start life anew in the Rocky Mountains. It’s always just when you swear off love that a new beast crosses your path.

*chapters are arranged in the order they are to be read but track # in parenthesis is as they are on the album

1. Breakin’ Up With a Broken Heart (Track 1)

2. Heartbreak On The Map (Track 3)

3. Save Me The Trouble (Track 2)

4. Neon Cowgirl (Track 11)

Thunder + Birds

5. Heaven + Back (Track 7)

Leads to You

Rocky Road

The Pizza Incident

6. Missing Someone (Track 9)

In The Stars

A Night Out

7. Then Again (Track 6)

8. What Took You So Long (Track 8)

Take a Stab

Garden Party

9. For The Both Of Us (Track 5)

You’re a Gem

Words Are Just Words Unless They’re Verbs

10. We Should Get Married (Track 10)

Keep it Move-in

Bound to You

11. Bigger Houses (Track 12)

A Little … Snow

Even Bigger Houses

12. Always Gonna Be (Track 4)

Drabbles & Extras

Sexy Sasquatch

How they Show Their Love (ask answer)

Who they run to (ask answer)

Happiness and Jealousy (ask answer)

[0fantasma0]

Petals to Thorns

{Chapter One}

General Fic Warnings: NSFW, dubcon, stalking, manipulation, possessive behavior, canon typical violence.

Chapter Two:

The sun was up, but you saw no reason to move from your spot at the kitchen table. A beautiful orange glow streams through the white curtains of your dining room. The soft light gleams against the tiny metal-tipped tool you use to whittle the chunk of alder wood in your palm.

This was your routine.

Sleeping well into the early evening to spend your nights at the kitchen table carving. It keeps your mind focused and your hands busy. You’d never thought your hands being unoccupied would be a bad thing until you started picking your lips raw. A nasty habit you haven't been able to kick since your games.

The other positive of sleeping through your days was that you missed all the people who came to your door. It had been a little under a month since you returned, and people were still dropping by. Most came to leave flowers or bottles of booze; some even left a few cords of wood. Thoughtful, but it would be several more months before you could put your new fireplace to use.

Nobody ever knocked, but just knowing they were on the other side of the door was enough to make you want to disintegrate. You couldn’t imagine trying to greet any of them. The walk from the train station to your new home in Victor's Village proved to be challenging enough.

Seeing the faces of your fellow District 7 inhabitants was somehow worse than being goaded by Capitol cretins.

Some cheered, some cried, and some didn’t say anything at all.

They were disgusted by you.

You slam the tool on the mahogany table below. Rubbing your eyes with your thumb and pointer finger, you were in desperate need of background noise. Your old radio busted a week ago, and you hadn’t worked up the courage to buy a new one.

You really should go to the market.

It was only a half mile from the Village, and walking might be pleasant. You could perhaps trade some of your woodwork for goods like you always have. Though, you didn’t need to barter anymore. The Capitol’s generous compensation for your efforts ensured that you never had to worry about the usual obstacles of District life again.

Maybe tomorrow.

Bracing yourself on the table as you stand from your chair. You drop your chin to your chest and stretch your achy limbs briefly before starting the long trek to the bathroom. This house was much bigger compared to the one-room shack you once called home. You weren’t sure who, but somebody had taken the liberty of moving all your belongings into your new home in the Village. They had even organized your clothes in the closet and hung your family pictures on the walls.

It had to have been Flora.

You fail to keep her son alive, and yet she still takes the time to make your transition easier. The mother of three was well known for her compassion and willingness to help others—traits very few people still possess.

What you did to still deserve her kindness, you were unsure.

Finally arriving at your destination, you nearly melt at the sight of the porcelain tub. Twisting the silver handle, you let the warm liquid slide down your hand before reaching its final destination.

A bath and then bed.

You had only just managed to fall into a dreamless sleep when the sound you had been dreading hearing echoed up the hall.

A knock.

Remaining still in your bed, perhaps whoever it was would think you weren’t home and go away.

Another knock.

Throwing the covers back, you grab the pair of trousers you left to rot on the floor. You tuck your white long-sleeve shirt into the waistband while searching for a belt or suspenders to hold your pants in place. Most of your pants and shirts once belonged to your father, and to say they were ill-fitting would be an understatement. Finally finding a pair of suspenders, you clip them on and shrug them over your shoulders as you walk down the stairs to your front door.

Hovering for a moment over the door knob, you take a deep breath. It was probably just a child or maybe even somebody you went to school with. You didn’t have a lot of friends per se, but you were friendly with almost everyone.

So why were you scared?

Turning the lock and twisting the handle, your eyes squint as the hot summer sun blinds you momentarily. Your vision slowly brings the figure in front of you into focus before a familiar, icey voice clues you into who your visitor is before you can finish fitting the pieces of their face together.

“Good morning.”

Coriolanus Snow.

He is as well put together as the last time you saw him. His hair combed back, and a perfectly tailored black vest hugged his torso and made the white of his dress shirt shine against the rest of his dark ensemble. Did he know it was a million degrees outside?

“Good morning,” You manage to choke out. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

He smiles kindly, like you would greeting an old friend.

“That’s quite alright. May I come in?”

No, you can’t come in.

“Of course.” You move to the side and open the door a little wider.

Why was he here? Gamemakers never usually leave the safety of the Capitol. There was more hate for Gamemakers than for Peacekeepers; plenty of disgruntled family members of fallen tributes would gladly hang if it meant there was one less Gamemaker in this world.

He’s here to arrest you.

Coriolanus takes his time surveying the state of your home, stopping at a picture of your mother laughing as you dangle from the maple tree that once grew outside your childhood home.

He’s alone. You could take him.

“Can I get you something to drink? I don’t have much right now, but I do have coffee.” You ask as you move towards your kitchen, hoping to create a little distance between you.

“A glass of water if you could.” He calls back, seemingly still looking at the picture on the wall. It takes a few tries to find the cabinet with your cups in it; still unfamiliar with the layout. Bringing the glass over the sink, you stare out the window as it fills with water.

If he were here to arrest you, you would have already been dragged through the mud and on your way to a cell or the hanging tree by now. Any chance they could take to make a spectacle of a rebel’s torture or death, they would.

Is that what you are now? A rebel?

You didn’t feel like one, but the secret you harbored was undoubtedly an act of rebellion.

“Did you make these?”

You jump at the sound of Coriolanus’ voice behind you. Looking down, you see the cup has been overflowing for some time and has soaked your shirt sleeve. Shutting the water off, you quickly grab the washcloth next to the sink and wipe off the outside of the cup.

Turning around, you see the Gamemaker has one of your sculptures in his hand. A chickadee. It looked so much smaller in his hand. Coriolanus seems to consider the wooden bird before moving on to another sculpture. A rabbit whose ears you were still working on defining.

“These are lovely,” He muses, carefully returning the rabbit to its place in the ecosystem you have amassed at your kitchen table. “Do you only carve animals?”

Why do you care?

“No, I uh,” You hold out your hand, inviting him to sit across from you, placing the cold glass of water in front of him as you take your place at the head of the table. “I can make tools and cutlery, too; I was commissioned to make a jewelry box a while back. That was a unique challenge.”

There is a moment where you almost forget you're talking to a Gamaker—the very same man who boasted about his involvement in creating your prison cell.

Especially when he’s looking at you like that.

His expression is much softer than it was when you first met him. The threatening air that you felt before is nowhere to be found, and he seems content to let you continue talking if you so choose. His blue eyes don’t leave yours as he lets the quiet hang for a moment longer before straightening his back.

“I apologize for showing up unannounced. But I’m here on behalf of The Capitol.”

You’re fucked.

Like the young man could sense your immediate unease, he continues calmly.

“There have been reports of increased rebel activity in District 7. Now, this isn’t unusual. We’ve found there is a spike in this sort of conduct following a particularly emotional game like yours.”

You remain silent.

“I’m here to investigate these claims and ask a favor of you.”

A favor? That’s brave.

“The Capitol sends Gamemakers to deal with rebels?” You can’t help but scoff.

Coriolanus seems to find it funny as well. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I studied military theory in university and served as a Peacekeeper in District 12. They send whoever they believe best represents and upholds Panem’s values.”

Silence fills the room once more.

You cross your arms in front of your chest and shift as far back in the chair as possible. You catch a slight twitch in the Gamemaker’s cheek when he notices the albeit small but important change in your posture.

“We’ve found that Victors tend to be the best at dissuading these acts,” He intertwines his fingers in front of him on the table. “I’m not asking you to make a speech. Just to be an example to the others in your District.”

“An example of what exactly?” The weight of your exhaustion is starting to wear you down.

“An example of compliance, order, loyalty. Show them the truth. That we are better and safer united as one.”

He wants you to be a mouthpiece.

To have you whisper Capitol rhetoric into their ears under the guise that it’s coming from one of their own. Easier to swallow that way, perhaps. But there was no way you’d be able to convince anyone that their children weren’t worth fighting for.

Not that you ever would, for anybody, at any cost.

“I would love to help with your rebel problem.” You mutter. “Unfortunately, I hold very little weight in the minds of the people in this District.”

The Gamemaker’s brows bunch together like he couldn’t tell if you were facetious. He nods slowly before you watch his eyes wander back to the chickadee. The first time his gaze has left yours, this entire conversation.

Coriolanus slowly unlaces his fingers in front of the bird, lingering like he wished to hold the tiny wooden creature once more. It seems to be a fleeting thought, though, as he quickly tangles his fingers back together

Had this been a different conversation and him a different man, you might have even offered to let him take it.

“I think you will find that to be quite the contrary.” Coriolanus abruptly pushes himself away from the table. You flinch before mimicking his actions and stand. “In any case, I will be available to you should you encounter anything troubling.”

He pushes in his chair, taking extra care not to knock the table. You feel dizzy from getting up so fast but try not to let the heaviness in your head become apparent to the Gamemaker.

The last thing you needed was Coriolanus Snow, knowing you were barely put together.

“I have to meet with Commander Ward, but there are other things I would like to speak with you about.”

Of course there is.

“You know where to find me.” You give a practiced, polite smile, which he returns. For a second, the blonde looks as though he has more to say. His lips part, and you find yourself holding your breath.

“Thank you for your time. I’ll see myself out.”

You wait until you hear the sound of the door opening and closing before you rush down the hall to lock it behind him. Steadying yourself on the wall, you gulp down some much-needed air. The late morning heat was starting to fill the house, but you felt cold and clammy. A symptom no doubt brought on by the Gamemaker.

Finding your way back to the kitchen, you stop in the door frame, your gaze settling on the untouched glass of water. Your chest burns with an emotion you can’t put a name to. It weighs heavy, and you feel the need to cry.

The promise of return made by Coriolanus only further fuels the flame growing beneath your sternum.

Next time you won’t open the fucking door.

Stomping over to the table, you snatch up the cup. Water spills over the edge as you raise your arm in the air. You aim at the empty hutch located behind the table and watch as it shatters into countless glistening pieces all over the floor.

It felt cathartic for a fraction of a second before your senses return as you realize the mess you’ve made.

A problem for later

On unsteady feet, you start for the stairs. White knuckling the railing as you climb your way up, perhaps your bed would grant you the relief you hoped you would find in the broken glass.

[tired-teacher-blog]

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

Rays of sunshine seep through the drawn curtains to cast an illuminating aura around the bed where you're deeply cuddled up with him. You yawn tiredly and try to stretch out your stiff muscles, but two strong arms are wrapped securely around you, keeping you fixed in place.

You smile brightly and struggle to shift in his hold until you're finally facing him. Relaxed, peaceful and handsome features welcome you, eyes still closed and soft breaths fanning over your face.

Your fingertips trace his cheek gently, careful not to wake him, and your eyes study his face as you wish to engrave this image of him in your mind, "good morning Shouta.."

Memories of the night before come rushing to your brain as your sore muscles remind you of every part of your body he touched, squeezed and kissed.

A blush creeps up your face and you're suddenly aware of your exposed frame under the sheets, covered only in one of his tank tops and nothing else, and you squirm away from him so you could get dressed before he gets up and sees you.

_ "Where'd you think you're going?" he groggily pulls you back to himself, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply, "feels so good not to wake up alone."

Your breath hitches hearing his words, and your mind wanders briefly to the first time you went out together, that night he opened up to you about prioritizing Eri over his own love life, and that none of his relationships were serious enough for him to pursue, but does this mean that he has never invited anyone over to his house before? That you're perhaps the first? That you're special enough for him to pursue?

Regardless, you're here with him now, in his bed and a part of his life and Eri's, and that's more than you can dream of, "it feels so good to wake up to you, Shouta."

You run your fingers along his back, tracing the faint scratches you've left behind, and smiling bashfully while recalling how they came to be.

_ "Can we stay in bed a little longer?" and it's adorable how he's mumbling that little plea while tightening his hold on you.

_ "Of course we can." how can you say no to him?

You have never expected to see this vulnerable side of him, never even thought he possessed it to begin with, but he does, and you feel blessed out that he's comfortable enough to unveil it around you.

You smile blissfully and kiss the top of his head as he presses his naked body to yours, it's warm and intimate, nothing sexual about it, just the closeness of one another that you both find comforting.

His breathing is already evening out and body is relaxing again, and it's endearing to watch him fall back asleep in your arms.

You stroke his hair gently and place little kisses there until you're almost back with him in dreamland, but you don't want to sleep, you just want to observe him while he does.

It's gradually getting brighter, and you're finally able to see his room clearly -now that you're not all over each other like you were last night- and it's quite elegant and minimalistic, just as you expected, it suits his personality quite well actually.

Your eyes study the wall sized wardrobe closet, jet black -same as his bed and nightstands- the huge dark grey carpet laid on the fancy wooden floor at the foot of his bed, the refined wall clock hanging opposite from you, the downlights recessed into the ceiling and illuminating the unsurprisingly charcoal painted walls.

You giggle softly thinking of how different his room is compared to your brighter and more colorful one, which seems a bit childish now that you think about it.

You love it though, you love how different you two are, it makes everyday an adventure, learning about each other and observing one another in your own element is something that you wouldn't give up for the world.

A few months ago you were nothing but strangers, acquaintances at best, but today you woke up in his bed, with his arms around you, and.. and..

What's that? What's that faint dark pink defying the monochrome hues of his room? It's familiar, really familiar, "Shouta, are those.. the roses I gave you when you visited my shop the first time?" your voice is no higher than a whisper, as if you're talking to yourself instead of him.

It's them, you can tell, you can recognize the flowers you cultivated yourself anywhere, even if they were preserved in what looks like resin, they don't look as vibrant as the day you cut them, but it's also nearly impossible to tell they're a couple of months old.

Why did he frame them? Why go so far as to keep them in his room, hanging on the wall facing his bed, for nearly two months?

_ "Shouta, can you hear me?" you cradle his cheek while gently calling out to him and brushing your thumb along his lips, you feel a little guilty for waking him up after he's already drifted back to sleep, but your eagerness to hear his answer is a lot to contain.

You peck his forehead and then his nose, and finally his lips, until he lets out a groan, "umm.. yeah, what's going on?" and it actually sounds more like a whine.. cute.

_ "I'm sorry I woke you but, I need to ask you something." and your soft caresses on his neck are only pulling him deeper into slumber, despite this, he forces his eyes open to listen to you.

_ "What is it babe? Tell me." his voice is deep and gruff as he slowly starts regaining his senses.

Your eyes soften apologetically and you kiss his pouty lips one more time before starting, "the roses I gifted you, why did you frame them?"

He's fully alert now, body tensed up and breath caught in his throat, he did not expect to hear that question from you, and it's not that he was ashamed or anything, it's just that you've caught him off guard.

_ "Well, no particular reason really, don't read too much into it." he shrugs his shoulders dismissively while fixing the pillow under his head.

_ "Oh! You're lying aren't you? You did it because you really liked my gift!" you shake his arm excitedly with a beaming smile adorning your face, he can deny it all he wants, because the faint blush dusting his cheeks has already exposed him.

He tries to turn onto his other side and avoid your persistant accusations, but you're too quick for him, pinning him down on his back and straddling him with a hyper squeal, "you're not running away!" you demand shamelessly and kiss all over his face and neck, for a moment forgetting that you're naked under the shirt that's now riding up your waist, but he's aware of it.

_ "Fine, you want to know why?" his voice is even deeper than before, but there is something else as well, a mischievous smirk and a mysterious glint replacing the bashful expression of earlier as you suddenly find yourself plopped onto your back and looking up at his menacing figure hovering over you, "I wanted to preserve them, not because I'm particularly fond of flowers, but because they're from you, and I couldn't bear the thought of seeing them wither, that's why I did it."

Your eyes are wide open and lips are slightly parted while he speaks, and now, you're the one who's flushing a deep shade of pink as his fingers slide up your leg, "are you satisfied with that answer?"

_ "I'm.. yeah." where did your confidence vanish all of a sudden?

_ "Good, because that's the truth." his gaze softens and his playful smirk turns into a warm smile as he leans in to kiss you, slowly and deeply, mingling your tongues together and swallowing every moan you're attempting to let out.

The hand on your leg is inching closer and closer to your exposed butt, and with every agonizingly slow millimeter he moves, the heat in the pit of your tummy intensifies.

He's naked too, you almost forgot, if it wasn't for his awakening stiffness nudging your thigh.

_ "Ugh fuck.." he breathes out, almost painfully, as he detaches his lips from yours before looking away with an embarrassed expression on his face, "I'm sorry, just give me a minute, I'll be right back." and with that, he tries to escape you.

_ "No wait, don't go!" you slide a hand along his toned chest, bringing it lower and lower until you reach his twitching cock, "just, stay." and your confidence is back as you coax him into giving in.

_ "But, I don't want to overwhelm you after last night." he says that, but his hips are mindlessly bucking against your hand.

_ "That's fine I'm okay, I want you." you have never been vocal with your desires before, never been demanding or bold, but you are so comfortable with him that it's all coming naturally.

_ "Well then, who am I to decline?" he purrs teasingly before connecting your lips again.

To be continued..

[kendallroydefender]

Somewhere only we know - Chapter 1 (Kendall Roy x reader)

I was seven and you were nine looked at you like the stars that shine In the sky, the pretty lights And our daddies used to joke about the two of us growing up and falling in love

Masterlist

Series summary: You met Kendall when you were six years old. You have spent every summer together and now years later you and him are still just as close.

This story follows Kendall and his best friend through their lives. Will they realize their feelings for each other before it’s too late?

Chapter 1: Split in to halves the first part is you and Kendall at sixteen, 10 years after you had met spending a summer together. The second half of this chapter focuses on the time you’re 18 and about to go to college.

This chapter is mainly fluff - some mentions of Logan being abusive but not much else. I really hope you enjoy this series!!

Words: 2.8k

It all started when your family bought a new summer house in the hamptons. You were 6 years old and were a little sad to leave the old summer house behind. But your parents really wanted a bigger one for the summers so you had to follow. The first day your parents took you to the neighbors. A couple a little older than your parents with 3 children. A boy that was in his teenage years, a toddler and a boy your age.

That was the first time you’ve met Kendall Roy. Nobody would have known that this fateful afternoon would turn into a lifelong friendship. From that day on every summer of you an Kendall was spend together. Playing together when you were children, hanging around the two big houses when you were teenagers. Going to summer parties of other rich families, swimming in pools or the sea or meeting in the little garden shed you had discovered. It was in the back of your garden, the end that was connected with the Roy estate. It was abandoned years ago, when your father had decided to just hire a company to do the gardening instead of having a gardener. The former staff had taken their tools with them so the small house was mostly empty except from some old outdoor garniture, chairs, a sun lounger, a table, stuff like that. Kendall and you had quickly made this into your space. It was somewhere the two of you could go whenever you wanted to escape the other people. One summer when you were about 13 you even got a hammock for this place. Only your parents where aware that you two were hanging out around there since you had to convince them not to tear it down. You also refused to let your mom hire someone to turn this place into a hip little hang out spot. It was your and Kendalls and it was perfect the way it is.

Now at sixteen and the first day of summer you got out of the car into the car and into the house. After rummaging a little in your room, you go down into the room where your mother was.

"Mom is it okay if I’m going over to the Roy’s before dinner?“ you ask and she looks at you with a knowing smirk. "To see your little boyfriend?“ she says back "How often do I have to tell you we’re not a couple.“ you mumble as you walk out of the house. "Dinners at 7 be on time- oh and bring Kendall if you want.“ she yells after you. Your father is the CEO of an airline and your mother is a former model. They had wanted a child for years until your mother got pregnant and you were on the way. Your family is very loving even though your father was quite busy.

With quick steps you walk over to the big white house. Ringing the doorbell you wait until you hear commotion inside.

A woman off the staff opens the door and after you ask if she could get Kendall she walks down the corridor again. A few moments later you see a dark haired boy hurry down the floor. Kendall. He grins at you. "Hey.“ you hug him "Hi Kenny, god I missed you.“

Despite both living in New York you rarely see each other in the city. From that moment on the summer started for you. There is no summer without Kendall. Never in the ten years you two had know each other was there a summer spend without the other. Summer and the dark haired boy were deeply intertwined in your mind. Sure you had seen each other on Christmas dinners at the Roy families city space and there was a New Year’s Eve spend together and once even a easter party, but summers were reserved for only the two of you.

You go to a fair with all the Roy kids one day this summer. Kendall been wary about this plan but you assured him it would be fun. Connor drives all of you in his car. He had come to visit for a few weeks. Since the two of you were sixteen he let you go off on your own on the fair while he stays with Shiv and Roman. You like Connor, he was kind to his siblings and sometimes even acted more like a Dad towards them than Logan does. Hell, you could’ve never imagined Logan Roy taking you to a fair, to the cinema or to the beach. You knew Roman likes to go fly fishing with his eldest brother in the summer. Connor also always asks to include you in his plans. He is like a cousin to you. It ended up being a great day. You and Kendall had gone to some of the rides and had a match in can throwing, where Kendall beat you and gave you the prize he’d won, a stuffed elephant. Connor brought you some food from the stands and drove you all home in the evening.

One day you go over to hang out with Kendall when you find a child sitting on the front steps. Roman. He is avoiding your gaze as you come closer. You can feel something is wrong. You approach the young boy carefully, how you would a deer in the woods. ”Hey Rome.“ You say softly. The boy curls more into himself. You sit down next to him, you don’t want to ask what had happened because you don’t know if you want to know but also because you don’t want this Kid to relive it by telling you. So you sit in silence for a few minutes before you ask ”You wanna play something?“ He is still not looking at you but comes out of his shell a little. He looks at you curiously for a moment, when you meet his eyes he looks away. His head doesn’t turn fast enough for you to not see the red mark on his cheek. Your heart starts to hurts at this. You always had wondered if Logan had used physical violence against his children but you had pushed the thought away, not wanting to believe it. You grew up with so much love that the thought of a parent hitting his child was something you thought of as evil. Roman was always a sweet child to you, yes he could be a little cheeky but what child wasn’t. You had once heard Logan compare him to a ”weak dog.“ and even though he made it sound like a joke you had seen the way Roman had flinched. Since then you had always try to be kind to him.

Kendall hears someone laugh outside of his window. He instantly recognizes that its you who’s giggling. He gets up to look outside to see you run around with his younger brother on the lawn. He’s confused for a moment but you look happy and even weirder his brother is laughing too. It looks like you’re having fun. Kendall isn’t jealous, he finds it actually kind of endearing to see you care for the little ones.

Now two years later, at eighteen, you were back at the Hamptons.

You hold the letter in your hands, growing more nervous with the second.

You and Kendall had made the promise that you would open your college letters together. You had told your parents that and they had found it adorable. Kendall was not blessed with such understanding parents so he hadn’t told Logan about the letter arriving, not wanting to risk his father forcing him to open them in front of him, robbing him of this moment with you. He walks to the garden with the bundle of letters in his hands. He opens the door to the little gardening house behind the bushes and sees you already sitting there on the slightly dusty floor. Bundle of unopened letters in your lap. Your eyes meet his as he enters the place and he feels warmth flood his chest as a big smile is spreading on your face. ”Hey Kenny:“ you grin up at him ”Hi“ he smiles back at you. You haven’t seen each other in months, busy with exams and graduation from high school. You talked on the phone a lot. That’s how you came up with this plan. You would open your college letters together.

”Okay, who goes first?“ He asks after he sits down in front of you. ”Can you?“ You answer him shyly. He nodds taking the first letter. Tearing the paper open glancing over the words. ”Holy shit. Fuck! I got in.“ He lets out ”I got into Havard!“ He tells you before you tackle him in a hug. ”Congrats Kenny! I know you could do it!“ You sit back and take your letter, staring at it for a moment. ”I’m scared. Can you open it?“ you asked him ”I could but it’s your moment you know?“ he answers.

You take a deep breath before opening the envelope and taking another look at him, Kendall nodding, encouraging you to go ahead. As you read he tries to gauge your reaction, he usually can read you like a book but at this moment you pull a really good pokerface. You bite your lip for a second, eyes connecting with his as a huge smile breaks out on your face. You nod and Kendall smiles at you too. ”Congrats!" He tells you sincerely before asking wich college letter you had read but that was unnecessary as you tell him "Guess we’ll be college buddies now.“ with a smirk and his heart jumps "You got into Harvard too? Fuck this is amazing!“. This was the cherry on top, not only did he get into his dream college, wich would please his father, but he was going to be able to spend a lot more time with you. This day couldn’t have been better.

You read your other letters too after that, you got another acceptance message and three rejections. But that doesn’t matter, you got into your dream school and you would be able to spend these years with your best friend.

"You wanna sleep over tonight?“ Kendall asked you passing you the joint you shared. "I’d love to but I don’t want to get you in trouble.“ he smiled "He’s not here tonight, there’s some party.“ you exhaled "Yeah I’d love to, we can catch up.“ you also couldn’t wait to cuddle him again, it had been way too long.

"Honey! You’re back!“ You’re mother says excited as soon as you step into the kitchen "How was it! Tell me everything!“ But before you can answer her she holds up a finger asking you to wait before yelling down the house "Richard! Y/n is back!“ While you waited for your dad , eating strawberries out of a bowl, your mother was asking about how Kendall was doing and how his family was.

Your Dad walked into the kitchen smiling, you smiled back at him. "So I got three rejections.“ You pause for a second, dramatics and all, you knew your Parents were counting how many accepted you. You named the college that accepted you that wasn’t Havard first. Before announcing "But im not going to go there because Havard accepted me too.“ You tell them proudly and your Mom lets out a small scream hugging you tightly. "Congratulations sweetheart! We’re so proud of you“ Your Dad tells you while giving you a hug too. "Thanks Dad.“ You tell him. Harvard had been your first choice after all, even before you knew it was where Kendall wanted to study too. "We need to eat something special tonight!“ Your mom says "What do you want to eat Honey? Maggie can make you anything you like!“ She tells you. After you had wish for your favorite meal your father speaks up "Ask Kendall if he wants to come over too. Its a special day for him too after all.“ He suggest knowing that the Roys wouldnt celebrate his news like you’re family did. For them it was what was expected, of course Kendall had to go to a good school. He had taken extra courses for this exact reason. For your family a good education was important too, but they still wanted to recognize it as a big achievement anyway.

So you go and make a quick call to tell Kendall about these plans wich he accepts, you can hear his smile in his voice as he tells you. It was like it always had been, as soon as you were reunited you were inseparable.

A few mintues before seven pm Kendall arrives at your summer house. He greets your parents politely, still being on his best behavior, they tell him every beginning of summer that he can relax around him. He’s basically part of the family after all these years. Seeing the way he seems more carefree at your place always makes you happy. Even though your father is friends with Logan he doesn’t particularly agree with his parenting style. He has seen glimpses into what is going on in the house next to yours and you ad told him a little. You havent told him any details, not wanting to accidentally get your friend into trouble. But you knew a lot more. Kendall had told you over the years.

"So Kendall, what have you kids planned for this summer?“ your dad asks, a casual tone telling that he was genuinely interested in what you want to do. "Well, uhm I think just the same as every year. I also got this motorcycle- well it’s not a real one. More like a Vespa? And I want to show it to Y/n." Kendall said before your father spoke again Kendall adds "I’ve had a lot of practice and I won’t speed. I will be careful. I promise.“ you giggle a little at his nervousness. "No worries, kid." Your father tells him "We trust you. You take care of our daughter.“ he says before he takes another bite.

You follow Kendall to the front door. "So? Sleepover’s still on?" He asks with a mischievous grin. "Sure, we can braid each others hair and talk about how cute Tim is." You tell him leaning against the doorframe. "Exactly what I had in mind. Keep the window open.“ he quips back.

It’s around eleven when you hear noise coming from outside you window and you smile to yourself, putting the book down you were reading. Kendall heaves himself into your room, wich looks the same as the last time he’s been in here. You pat the bed next to you and lift the covers for your friend to crawl under. "What are you reading?“ he asks and you show him the cover. While he studies the book you ask him if he wants to watch a movie with you he answers with "Sure“. The movie is just background noise as you talk for hours. Your voices slightly hushed so that your parents won’t find out: even if their room is at the end of the floor and you don’t think they would mind too much. You’re not even entirely sure that your mom doesn’t know that you let Ken sleep over or you sneak out from time to time during summer. At home you usually don’t sneak out of the house. Your friends Anna and Meghan are allowed to sleep over and you can go to parties with them - if it’s only parties at the homes of other kids your age. Your parents wouldn’t appreciate you going to clubs. And now that you’re 18 it doesn’t matter anyway.

At some point you fall asleep, your cheek slightly squished against Kendall’s shoulder.

The next weeks are spend just enjoying the summer together. Driving around on the small motorcycle Ken had bought. You were having so much fun

You took a picture with your camera of Kendall on the bike wich would find a place on your wall.

Kendall had to attend some of Logan’s business calls throughout the summer. Logan was convinced he was ready to learn more about the company he would be working for after college.

It felt like the weeks flew by because soon enough your summer was over and you were off to college. Saying goodbye to Kendall is much easier this time. You would are going to see him in just a week anyway - and from there on you would life close to each other. You can’t wait to spend more time with your best friend. Yes you had close friends at school but you always consider Kendall your best friend. He just understands you and you can tell him everything knowing he wouldn’t judge you. Kendall would never tell you, he was an eighteen year old boy after all, but he considered you his best friend too. He likes being able to talk about family issues with someone - his friends at school couldn’t know but with you it was easy. You care.

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - semi smut (not really)

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 18

My attitude toward the usual wedding formalities was naive and unsophisticated. If it had not been for my good friend Amber Doe, I can’t imagine what I would have done. Amber was great that way. She was raised in Missouri, where her mother was somewhat involved with political events and ventures. Amber knew all the social graces along with proper etiquette.

Before the wedding there had never been an occasion for formalities—the same people came around for years and were always included when there was a special party such as New Year’s at a local club or fireworks wars in back of Graceland.

She reminded me to order my own personalized stationery for later thank-yous and a guest book for later memories. She registered our name with the city’s finest silver and crystal dealers for the convenience of family and friends buying wedding presents.

I had never attended a wedding as large as ours—nothing even close. I was nervous. The bounty from the wedding showers took me by surprise. Graceland had always seemed to have everything anyone could want. We were content with what was there, plus little things I’d bought over the years, such as simple dishes and plain glasses (in case of breakage).

“What’s wrong with those?” I wondered. I was raised to be practical and it was showing. Amber introduced me to dining luxury, the top names in silver, crystal, china—Baccarat, Lenox, Steuben.

The wedding ceremony itself took place on May 1, 1967. Colonel William handled the arrangements. His plan was for Matt and me to drive from L.A. to our rented house in Palm Springs the day before the wedding, so that any inquisitive reporters who got wind of the event would think it was going to take place there.

In fact, we planned to rise before dawn on our wedding day and fly from Palm Springs to Las Vegas, where we were scheduled to arrive at the city clerk’s office at 7 a.m. to get our marriage license. From there, the plan was to rush over to the Aladdin Hotel, dress, have a small ceremony in the private suite of the hotel’s owner, and then—we hoped—slip out of town before anyone noticed.

Time was of the essence. We knew that once we applied for a marriage license, the news would flash around the world. It actually was only a few hours after we got our license that Rona Barrett’s office began calling to ask if rumors about the marriage were true.

Matt and I followed the Colonel’s plan, but as we raced through the day we both thought that if we had it to do over again, we would have given ourselves more time. We were particularly upset at the way our friends and relatives ended up being shuffled around. The Colonel even told some of the boys that the room was too small to hold most of them and their wives, and that there wasn’t time to change to a bigger room. Unfortunately, by the time Matt found out, it was too late for him to do anything about it.

Now I sometimes look back at all the commotion of that week and wonder how things could have gotten so out of hand. I wish I’d had the strength then to say, “Wait a minute, this is our wedding, fans or no fans, press or no press. Let us invite whomever we want, and have it wherever we want!”

It seemed that as soon as the ceremony began, it was over. Our vows were taken. We were now husband and wife. I remember flashbulbs popping, my father’s congratulations, my mother’s tears of happiness.

I would have given anything for one moment alone with my husband. But we were immediately rushed out for a photo session, then a nationwide press conference, and finally a reception, with more photographers.

Mrs. Matt Sturniolo. It had a different ring, a nicer sound than previous labels such as “constant companion,” “teen heartthrob,” “live-in Lolita,” “lover.” For the first time, I felt accepted by my peers and the majority of the public. There were exceptions, of coursethose who had that little hope that they might be the one to finally catch Matt. I didn’t understand that at the time. I was in love and just hoped they would be happy for us.

When I read in the newspapers that I was the best-kept secret in Hollywood, I felt very proud; it was good to be acknowledged. The years of doubt and insecurity of where and if I belonged were over.

I was both exhausted and relieved when we finally returned to Palm Springs aboard Frank Sinatra’s Learjet, the Christina. There were more photographers and reporters waiting for us as we stepped off the plane, and others were parked outside our home.

I was surprised that Matt was holding up so well, considering how nervous he’d been about this ultimate commitment. Yet he was charming with the press and dealt easily with endlessly clicking cameras and flashbulbs, all of which he could usually tolerate only for short periods of time. On top of everything else, we hadn’t slept for nearly forty-eight hours.

In his own way, Matt was determined that our wedding day would be special for us. He joked with Nate Doe, asking, “Is this the way it’s done?”

He carried me across the threshold of our house singing “The Hawaiian Wedding Song.” He stopped and gave me a long, loving kiss, then proceeded to carry me up the stairs to our bedroom, the whole crowd teasing and applauding.

It was still daylight and the sun shone brightly through our bedroom windows as Matt carefully placed me in the middle of our king-size bed.

I don’t think he really knew what to do with me. After all, Matt had protected me and saved me for so long. He was now understandably hesitant about fulfilling all his promises about how very good this moment was going to be.

I have to laugh at how nervous we both were. One would have thought that it was the first time we had ever been together under intimate circumstances.

Gently, his lips touched mine. Then he looked deeply into my eyes. “My wife,” he said softly, as he drew me close. “I love you, y/nn,” he murmured, covering my body with his.

The intensity of emotion I was experiencing was electrifying. The desire and lust that had built up in me throughout the years exploded in a frenzy of passion.

Could he have known how it would be for me? Had he planned this all along? I’ll never know. But I do know that as I went from child to woman, the long, romantic, yet frustrating adventure that Matt and I had shared all seemed worthwhile. As old-fashioned as it might sound, we were now one. It was special. He made it special, like he did with anything he took pride in.

Within a few days we were in Boston, where Angela Sturniolo held a small wedding shower for me. At the end of May we threw a big reception at Graceland for all our friends and relatives—and some fans. Matt and I wore our wedding clothes, greeted everyone, sipped champagne, and shared cake just as if the party were taking place after the wedding ceremony. It was much more comfortable and relaxed than Las Vegas.

Laughing and somewhat high from the champagne, we could really have a good time. There were no photographers or strangers watching our every move.

It was fun seeing James get loose.

“Dad, you want some more champagne?” Matt asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Don’t mind if I do, Son. That’s pretty good stuff.”

“Yeah. Well, don’t drink too much. I don’t want my dad gettin’ in trouble. I see that blonde you’ve been eyein’.”

James stole a glance at the girl and, with the same twinkle replied, “She ain’t too bad, is she? Think I’ll go see if she needs anything.”

Matt turned to me and said, “I like seein’ Dad happy. He hasn’t had too much of it lately, poor ol’ guy.” He watched James make his way through the crowd.

The reception at Graceland was our way of trying to make everyone happy—those who hadn’t known about the wedding ceremony, those who knew but couldn’t attend, and those who knew but weren’t invited. It was a way of including everyone, of making up to anyone whose feelings might have been hurt during the rushed hours in Vegas.

One person who had been very upset was Red West. He had not been invited to the wedding ceremony in the suite, only to the reception afterward. I believe the reason Red was so hurt was because Matt did not demand that he be present, did not take a stand over Colonel William’s decision that only the immediate family and best man attend. I also believe that Red wanted to be best man. After all, he’d known Matt the longest, since their days at Humes High. When Red found out he could not watch the ceremony, he refused to come at all.

Matt was aware of Red’s decision but was determined not to let anything mar the wedding. I understood that but was never able to figure out how Marty Lacker made it to the ceremony. In a last-minute decision Matt had included him as best man along with Nate Doe.

It took a long time for Red to come around again without showing his displeasure. This bothered Matt and he discussed it with many of us, justifying himself and blaming Colonel for putting him in an awkward position.

“You didn’t make the decision—I did,” Colonel reportedly stated. “No matter who you picked, there was gonna be someone left mad. You got too many as it is. You oughta listen to me and let go of some of ’em, then these things won’t come up.”

There’s an old Southern belief that holds that a woman goes into a marriage thinking she can change her man, while a man wants his woman to stay the same as when he married her. I didn’t want to change Matt, but I did have the romantic delusion that once we were married, I could change our life-style.

For the first few days after the wedding, I thought my dream had come true. We divided our time between Graceland and the ranch, where Matt and I had taken up residence in a large, three-bedroom trailer.

It was typical of Matt to choose the trailer over the quaint little house. He had never lived in a trailer before and it intrigued him. The place was completely furnished, including a washer, a dryer, and a modern kitchen. It turned out to be very romantic.

I loved playing house. I personally washed all his clothes, along with the towels and sheets, and took pride in ironing his shirts and rolling up his socks the way my mother had taught me. Here was an opportunity to take care of him myself. No maids or housekeepers to pamper us. No large rooms to embrace the regular entourage.

I got up early, put on a pot of coffee, and started his breakfast with a pound of bacon and three eggs, proudly presented it to him the moment he woke up.

“You see, if we were ever stranded somewhere alone, you know I can take care of you.”

It must have been difficult for him to eat the instant he opened his eyes—but he wasn’t going to disappoint his new bride.

Although the rest of the group traveled with us, they respected our privacy as newlyweds and, for the most part, left us alone.

I understood Matt’s need for the camaraderie the entourage provided, and I didn’t want to take him away from the people he loved, especially now that we were married. He had always criticized wives who tried to change the status quo. He told me about one wife, saying, “She doesn’t like him to be around the boys so much. She’s going to cause problems in the group.” The last thing I wanted was for Matt to think I’d be the kind of wife who’d come between her man and his friends.

I decided one evening to show off my cooking skills for everyone by making one of Matt’s favorite dishes, lasagna. I invited the regulars, bragging to one and all about how well I prepared this Italian specialty. Despite my outward confidence, I must have made ten longdistance calls to my mother in New Jersey, checking and rechecking on quantities and measurements. It was important for me to prove myself a success. Nate Doe, our only Italian and a “gourmet chef,” kidded me all week about how he bet that my lasagna wouldn’t be as good as his. All that ribbing only made me more nervous. I kept thinking, What do I know about pasta? I’m not even Italian.

Finally, the night of the dinner came. Everyone was seated at the table, watching me expectantly. I tried to appear cool and confident as I brought out the fancily prepared platter and started cutting individual squares for my guests. I did notice that when I started slicing the lasagna, it felt a little tough, but thinking I was holding a dull knife, I continued dishing it out.

I sat down, smiled anxiously, and said, “Please start.” We all took a bite and—crunch. There was a look of shock on everyone’s face. I looked at my plate and was mortified when I realized I had forgotten to boil the pasta.

Matt began laughing, but when he saw I was about to cry he turned to his plate and began eating, uncooked noodles and all. Taking their lead from him, everyone followed suit.

Nate Doe still laughs about it, frequently saying, “y/nn? How about some lasagna?”

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - married!! 🎀