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shellshocklove · 12 hours

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does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

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The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This <s>new</s> temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

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httpknjoon · 2 days

Text

the crown | jjk

plot | While staying in Blaire's beach house, your friends cannot help but notice your new tattoos. The ones you got with your secret boyfriend.

words | 2.7k+

genres | fluff, crack, secret relationship au, established relationship au, friends to lovers au

pairing | jungkook x reader

note | we're back at the beach house!! things are about to get sloppy lol I love love LOVE this one so much, I had fun writing it. i hope you'll enjoy reading it too!

main masterlist | drabble series masterlist

Jungkook was still deep in his slumber when he sensed a rustling sound near him. At first, he didn’t mind it. Maybe you were just shifting on the bed. But then, he figured there wasn’t any movement in the foam mattress you two were sleeping on. That’s when he hears your voice.

“Oh, you’re coming? Do you want to go with me, baby?” your voice was hushed, trying not to disrupt your boyfriend’s sleep.

But with Bam jumping up and down excitedly while you walked around the room, Jungkook slowly opened his eyes. His vision was a little blurry but he could see your figure standing in front of the mirror. Rubbing his eyes, he stretched his limbs under the sheets. He sees you clearly under the dimmed light, wearing your plain black sports bra and shorts.

“Where you going?” he asked with his voice still deep and groggy.

You turned around, “Oh, you’re awake? Did I wake you?”

Still comfortable on the bed, Jungkook lazily nodded his head. You frowned before walking up to him.

“I’m sorry, babe.” you leaned in, kissing the tip of his nose. “Me and Blaire will go on an early jog. We’ll try to catch the sunrise too.”

You’re taking Bam with you?” he looked up and you smiled at his doe eyes.

“Yeah, he seems excited already.” you chuckled. “You can join us if you wanna.”

Jungkook grunted, “It’s Saturday.”

Saturdays are synonymous with rest days to him and you are very much aware of it. Jungkook already has a workout schedule and routine for six days a week. He saves up Saturday as his cheat day. He gets to do everything he wants for the whole day without any schedule. It’s a routine he picked up sometime when he got his first job. It took a whole lot of discipline for him to get used to it.

“Well, okay. It’s just me and Bam.”

You hooked the leash to Bam’s collar. Jungkook watched you tie your hair up with the classic bun in front of the mirror, exposing one of the tattoos you got on your forearm. His lips stretched into a small smile whenever he remembered he drew that tiger lily himself. Then, he smiled even wider when he spotted the small crown inked on your left ribs, slightly covered by your top. You turned around, instantly scrunching your eyebrows in confusion why is he smiling like a fool.

“What?”

“You’re so pretty. How are you even mine, princess?” he grinned. He sat up on the bed, exposing his bare top while the sheets pooled around his hips.

“I don’t know, babe. Maybe you just tricked me into all of this,” you utter.

Leaning in once again, you aimed for his lips. One of Jungkook’s hands reached for your cheek. It began as a slow and gentle kiss. Until you had to sit down on the mattress while still kissing him. You placed a hand on his chest as the kiss deepened. Jungkook’s hands moved from your cheek down to your waist, pulling you closer to him until there was no space left. Like a rhythm, your lips move together.

“Ah,” you moaned when he bit your lower lip, making his tongue gain access easily.

Lost in what’s happening, you just cannot keep your hands to yourself. From his chest, shoulders, and arms, to his hair. Jungkook shivers at your touch. He was so ready to carry you on top of him when you tugged on his hair, pulling him away.

“I gotta go, Blaire’s already waiting outside,” you whispered, breathlessly.

Your chests were both heaving with your lips swollen and red from this unexpected intense session. You were about to stand up but his hold on your waist stopped you. His eyes pleaded for you to stay, but you shook your head. You laughed when he began peppering kisses on your neck, tickling you at some spot.

“Twenty minutes?” he asked, in between kisses.

“No.”

“Ten?” he continued bargaining for your time while planting his lips from the skin on your neck to your shoulder.

And when you shook your head again, he stopped and looked at you. You can feel his thumb tracing circled on the skin where you got your dainty crown tattoo.

“Five? I can be quick, princess.” He smirked.

You laughed, pushing his face away as you stood up, “I doubt that. Me and Bam are just gonna go..”

He frowned when he saw you pick up your phone and Bam’s leash. Jungkook slides down the bed again, wrapping himself with the blanket. Before you walked out the door, you turned around.

“Don’t forget to go back to your room, okay? Sleep well, babe.”

“Good morning,” Blaire nodded when she noticed you and cooed when she saw your big baby, who was also happy to see your friend.

Blaire was already waiting outside the beach house, stretching her arms, when you and Bam saw her. You looked around the beach. The crescent moon was still visible in the purplish-blue sky. The waves were calmer as they met the ends of the sand. You took in the fresh breath of air, calming you down.

“You can release Bam from this. He doesn’t really have anywhere to run to here.” Blaire suggested.

She was right. Considering that the whole area is private property, white wooden fences are placed on the spots where your dog might want to go. You agreed, unhooking the leash. Almost instantly, Bam ran near the ocean where he could watch the waves. You didn’t really worry as you can still see him from a distance. You began stretching next to Blaire.

“I was knocking on Dara’s door to ask her to join us but she wasn’t answering.” She shared.

You snickered, “We know her, she’s a deep sleeper.”

“Yeah, I wish I could sleep everywhere that great all the time.” She quipped, making you two laugh. “How about Jenny?”

“She said, she’ll try to show up. But won’t promise to. I think she had a long day yesterday in the restaurant.” You replied.

“Ah, yes. She talked about her suppliers stressing her out.” Blaire recalled. “She was ranting the whole time we were on our way here.”

As usual, everyone was in buddy-buddy mode on their way here to Blaire’s beach house last night. You, Jungkook, and Bam were all in his Jeep Wrangler. Blaire came with Jenny. While Dara picked up Wooshik at his house. now that Blaire is aware of you and Jungkook the last time you were here, she put you and your boyfriend in rooms next to each other. The house was massive, thanks to her wealthy aunt. So it would be weird to make you share a room. This time, Blaire warned you and Jungkook about doing anything everywhere if you don’t want to be caught unexpectedly, referencing that early morning she saw you all tired in the kitchen. The warning didn’t stop him from sneaking into your room at midnight.

As soon as you two began jogging beside the sea, Blaire pointed out something.

“I never noticed you had tattoos.”

“Oh, these? It’s all new. I and Kook got it last Valentine’s. He drew it himself.” You replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

As part of your Valentine's surprise for him, you two got matching tattoos of crowns, your favorite flowers, and a clock pointing to twelve o'clock. You got the crown on your left rib, near where he likes to hold you every single time, out of habit. On the other hand, he got the crown on his knuckles with his other tattoos from before. It was the same size as yours, placed in the center. He already had tiger lilies inked on his arm before while you placed your in your right forearm that is only visible when you raise your arm. The last tattoo is on your right wrist. It was all dainty and small so it can be unnoticeable at times.

“That’s cute.” She mumbled before turning her head to you. “I’m so happy for you guys. You two seemed really happy with each other.”

“I love him so much.” You giggled, feeling your blood rushing to your cheeks. It felt like you’re in elementary all over again, having a childish crush on someone.

“I just cannot understand why you kept it a secret from us.” She spoke. “And for two years? That’s fucking impressive. Hats off to you two.”

You laughed at the recognition, “Thank you. We try our best.”

You two jogged and walked and jogged again for almost thirty minutes straight, back and forth on the sand, along with Bam. The sun was already peeking in when Jenny came down with a coffee mug to see you both. She was still in her pajamas.

“I’ll prepare everyone breakfast. How do y’all like your eggs?” she asked when you passed by where she was standing.

“Scrambled!” Both you and Blaire answered in unison.

“Orange juice or coffee?” she asked once more.

“Coffee!” You two replied together again.

If it wasn’t for the random 6:30 AM alarm in his phone, Jungkook would have not woken up from his peaceful and satisfying slumber. He would have slept until noon with how comfortable the whole room was. He groaned as he stretched his arms and legs. For a few more minutes, Jungkook buried his face on the soft pillow he was hugging. After five more minutes, he sat up on the corner of the mattress.

That’s when he realized where he was.

He’s still in your room and he promised to come back in his before everyone wakes up. But he can already hear pop music playing downstairs, indicating that someone or maybe everyone is already up. He put on his slippers, scratching his head. He makes his way to the door and as soon as he steps outside, another door on the floor opens.

“Morning, JK.” Wooshik greeted him.

“Morning.”

And it didn’t take Wooshik to notice something unusual. Jungkook watched him look at him to the door then at him again. His best friend squinted at him.

“What?”

Wooshik raised an eyebrow, “What were you doing in YN’s room?”

Jungkook’s heart stopped for a second. His hold on your door knob tightened as the gear in his brain works quicker than it usually does in the morning. Once he thought of something, he pushed it close.

“I was… looking for Bam. I thought I could take him with me outside.” He reasoned out, that even he is not buying it totally.

“But you look like you just woke up.” Wooshik’s tone is too curious like that Sheldon kid from that show.

“Yeah, I went as soon as I woke up.” Jungkook crossed his arm over his chest. He looked directly at his best friend. That is when he noticed something too. “And what were you doing in Dara’s room?”

They exchanged glares from one another. Jungkook nods his chin in a sassy way while Wooshik squinted his eyes to him. It’s a way to say something like I know that you did something I just cannot prove it.

“I borrowed her charger. I left mine at home.” Wooshik showed the charger he was holding. “Everyone is already downstairs. Dara’s helping Jenny with breakfast.”

He didn’t wait for Jungkook to answer and strolled down the stairs. Jungkook didn’t say anything and followed. The appetizing smell of bacon immediately enters his nostrils as he makes his way to the dining area. That’s when he sees Dara carefully pouring coffee on every empty mug on the table while Jenny fries some bacon. There’s already toast and eggs on the table so Jungkook reached for a slice. Wooshik, who plugged his phone into the living room, entered and sat on the chair opposite his.

“Bam’s already outside, by the way.” He told him.

“Is he?” Jungkook asked, acting naïve.

“Yeah, Blaire and YN are jogging outside.”

“Oh, they are?” Jungkook asked again.

It’s obvious Wooshik is suspicious and teasing him so he teases him back. His best friend glared at him, Jungkook scrunched his nose, taking a bite from his toast. The tension was only broken when Dara asked Wooshik,

“Milk? Sugar?”

“Sugar, please.” He replied, smiling at her. Then, frowning back to Jungkook.

Jungkook mocked, “Shugar, pleash.”

The backdoor to the beach opens, letting the sunshine enter. Bam was the first to come in, wagging his tail as he made his way to Jungkook. Blaire enters, greeting everyone. You followed behind like a ray of sunshine in your boyfriend’s eyes. Your hair bun is now a little loose while your skin glistens through your sweat.

“Now, everyone here. Let’s all have our breakfast.” Dara said, sitting next to Blaire and Wooshik.

You sat next to Jungkook, while on your other side was Blaire. He handed you the plate of scrambled eggs. He also placed two slices of toast on your plate, one with spread butter on top. Everyone began talking about what do they wanted to the whole weekend since you all our staying in the beach house the entire time.

“Can we do bonfire later?” Dara suggested.

Blaire nods, “Yeah! We can barbecue too and those marshmallows stuff.”

“Then, we should go out later to buy groceries,” Jenny said.

You just listened, enjoying your food and coffee. Many other suggestions were made since everyone is taking their rest days before returning to their lives next week.

“YN, can you pass me the bacon?” Blaire asked.

You did, unaware that your top slightly raised when you moved.

“Is that a tattoo?!” Dara pointed out to the crown on your skin.

Then, Jenny saw the other one, “Wait, you have two?”

“Three actually.” you smiled, showing off the clock on your wrist.

You seemed proud as they complimented the color of the lilies or the design of the clock. Jungkook hides the growing smile on his lips while sipping in his mug. Also, on the other side of the table, Wooshik was the first one to ask.

“Are there meanings behind them?”

You nodded, “Yes, of course.”

“Well, the tiger lily here represents confidence and good fortune. I like that,” you explained.

“Wait. Jungkook, you have those too right?” Dara asked him.

Jungkook nods and shows off his forearm. “Yeah, right here. YN is just a copycat.”

You rolled your eyes, “For the record, I am not. Someone suggested it to me.”

“Who?” they asked collectively, including Blaire as if she was unaware of who.

Instead of answering the question, you just smiled eating your toast. They groaned. During your Galentines with the girls, you already told them about meeting someone special. And you assume that the news already reached Wooshik.

“It’s her secret boyfriend!” Wooshik exclaimed like he solved a murder mystery.

Again, you didn’t say anything. But your ex[ression is enough to show that you and your love life are currently in a happy state.

“Seriously, when are we gonna meet this guy? You seemed like floating on cloud 9 just thinking of him right now.” Jenny said.

You heard Jungkook chuckle beside you. You secretly pat his lap under the table, stopping him from getting too prideful from what he’s hearing.

“Soon. We’re already talking about planning something so you guys can meet him,” you told them. “Anyway, moving on…”

With you talking about your secret boyfriend, one person at the table cannot help but recall the same statement he heard from Jungkook when he found out about Princess. Wooshik eyes you while pointing to the tattoo on your wrist and Jungkook, who’s just watching everything, specifically you. For the first time, Wooshik noticed how different his best friend looked at you. Jungkook has his head resting on his hand, looking at you like you are the most precious gem in the world. There was this adoration and fondness in his best friend’s eyes as he looked at you. Jungkook’s quiet glance at you speaks so loud that Wooshik feels so dumb that this is the first time he has seen this.

“And what about the crown?” Jenny asked.

You showed off the said tattoo, “Oh, I’ve been feeling lucky and loved lately. You know, like a princess.”

Like a princess.

And that was the confirmation Wooshik got.

TAGLIST (closed)

@hobiuwusunshine @alinerl @bbangtanlove95 @daydreamiies @craftymoonchaos @awseokjin @yoonabeo @luvrsofbts @bloopkook @chvngbiin @takochelle @wildarmy @cuddlysoftbear @luv-minhyun-world @shydestinyyouth @bbtsficrecs @fan-ati--c @rjsmochii @jkbabiey @hopeworldjimin @chieftoadturkeynickel @ppeachyttae @tannies-luv @loomipee @sanctify-mp3 @stuffy1985 @di0rgguk @tswisal1 @amara-mars @jksgirlhere @callmejimmeo @rapmonie2047 @daemontargaryenwhore @juju-227592

#bts fluff #bts series #bts drabble #bts scenarios #bts secret relationship au #bts established relationship au #bts friends to lovers #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook drabble #jungkook series #jungkook secret relationship au #jungkook established relationship #jungkook friends to lovers #our little private love affair

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Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | chapter two

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love

word count: 6.1k+

warnings: This chapter in particular is written from Yoongi's perspective, oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of body shaming by Hybe executive, bestie!tae is wonderful support 🥹, light fighting between members (literally crack), Namjoon has a little crush, Oc being a total boss at work bc she is amazing at her job, and cute & meaningful Yoon and OC interactions that make them finally start bonding (a little flirty too, hehe) 😉

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: CHAPTR TWO IS HERE! GOD...the slow burn exists outside the series too with me not updating for two months. I'm sorry guys but TYSM for your patience! I'm VERY excited to release this chapter bc I think Yoon & Oc are super cute, hehe. Okay anyway, this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

Yoongi stands with his hands placed loosely on his hip, chest heaving as he attempts to catch his breath. The seven of them had been practicing choreography for their new RUN BTS song nonstop when Jimin called for a much-needed, fifteen-minute break. There’s a part of him that’s thanking the younger for it and another that’s wishing he hadn’t, as every moment left alone with his thoughts is spent decoding his last encounter with you at the cafeteria.

Why had you made such a beeline for the exit the moment he was waved over by his member?

You also completely ignored his attempts to greet you on your way out. He only stopped by the cafeteria to slip an orange in his pocket before returning to his studio. He didn’t mean to intrude or incite that you had to leave with his sudden presence.

Taehyung assured him that you merely left to tend to work matters, which he’d typically sum as hyper-fixation with one’s work as he’s prone to do the same, but this felt different at its core. Your behavior seemed more intentional than that. The last thing he wants to do is misread the whole situation, but he must’ve done or said something to cause your uneasiness.

“Hyung, how did the album meeting go this morning?” A clear voice comes from Yoongi's left as his fellow band member, Namjoon, strides next to him, water bottle clenched in his fist. Like himself, large droplets of sweat dots around the man’s brow. The minor interruption shakes Yoongi out of his slightly dazed state.

“Went well.” He takes a big swish of his own water before screwing the cap back on. “We reviewed everything in three hours and the album looks better than I anticipated. There are a couple of promotional strategies that still need finalizing, but I’m pretty confident about it overall.”

“That’s great, man. __-nim’s been doing good work with TXT for the last few years, so she’s definitely suited for the job. I thought about requesting her help to promote Indigo but the timing of it all didn’t work.” Namjoon’s voice drops an octave at the last part, as if remorseful for more than a missed professional opportunity.

“Ah, maybe your next album hyung,” Jimin suddenly chimes in, slapping the taller man on the shoulder from the side. “I have a feeling you and __-nim would work well together. Think about it, you’re both natural born leaders and you’re smart too. I bet __ -nim has as high of an IQ as you.”

Namjoon’s cheeks flush with the faintest tint of rose as Jimin flashes a knowingly cheeky grin. Yoongi, of course, witnesses the entire exchange, the slightest part of him feeling uprooted by the thought of his band member and new marketing manager suddenly hitting it off. He decides not to comment on the matter, choosing to remain in ignorance instead. This is all speculation, right?

Now that they’re all on the subject of his album though, it gets him thinking that maybe he’s been too narrow viewed regarding the reason for your off putting behavior at lunch.

D-Day’s release has become a consuming priority lately, with everyone involved worked to the bone. Aside from himself, you’ve been bearing the brunt of it. He’s appreciative of course, considering the album holds a deep sense of meaning to him, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to be perfect. A little pushback during the first proposal is natural, yet he did get more resistant toward ideas during this morning’s meeting than anticipated. Perhaps some of his nitpicking was unnecessary, adding to your already heavy load.

Yoongi’s head feels worse the longer he entertains the possibility. He doesn’t want to make the first time working together a complete whirlwind, especially this early. A strong, healthy partnership starts with trust, safety, and mutual respect. The same philosophy can be applied to relationships of varying natures. That reminds him—since when did Taehyung and you become so close? He’s been ruminating over it all afternoon, like a jigsaw puzzle he can’t solve.

It’s odd how little he knows.

“I heard someone mention __-nim over here. I want in.” A small grumble leaves Yoongi’s lips as Jungkook pushes next to him, displeased by how tiny his space bubble has gotten due to the huddle his members have formed around him. Just why the hell is everyone so interested in his new marketing director? That's what he wants to know.

“Can you introduce me to her sometime hyung?" Jungkook pleads. "I’m thinking about releasing an album in the next year and it’d be great if you could hook us up…yknow?”

Oh, Yoongi knows. He knows exactly what this young buck is insinuating, but it isn’t mating season yet and even if it were he will do no such thing as to “hook them up”. Besides, his conscience tells him that you wouldn't be interested in the company of a younger man anyway—not that your dating life is any of his business or anything.

“Get in line Jungkookie, behind Namjoon. He needs her for his album first.” Jimin squeezes down on Namjoon’s muscular shoulders with both hands, shaking him just enough to hype him up. His hands are removed seconds later when he’s told to knock it off.

“That’s enough about this, okay? I’m pretty sure Yoongi-hyung is the only one who actually needs __-nim right now because, in case you dumbasses have forgotten, D-Day is set to release in April,” Namjoon scolds the two with a commanding tone. Jungkook, per usual, remains persistent in his original request and keeps his full attention on Yoongi.

“Anyway hyung, as I was saying, I know your album takes priority so I’m in no hurry to meet her. I can be pretty patient as you know-“

“Heh, that’s a lie.”

“Shove it Jimin, no one’s talking to you.” Jungkook’s eyebrows scrunch together as Jimin snorts helplessly next to Namjoon.

“You shove it Kook,” Jimin counters. “And stop trying to date __-nim! Find your own woman!”

“I’m not trying to date her! She's my noona for gods sake! Do you think I’m oblivious to how the public reacts to idols dating? Also, __-nim is a Hybe employee, not an idol. I can only imagine the type of scandal the media would spin it as.”

“Right, we all know you actually just want to take her to your bed instead,” Jimin interrupts for the umpteenth time. “Our handsome leader, on the other hand, is interested in her professional abilities. We can learn a lot from him.”

“Why are you always trying to start a fight with me Jimin? Is it because I can take you, now that I've been building up more muscle?” Jungkook’s accusations earn him nothing more than a sea of eye-rolls until Jimin lunges himself towards him, puffing out his chest the best he can to size him up.

Namjoon rubs his face with a hand, a clear visual display of his exhaustion. He’s been moderating these stupid squabbles for nine years now. “Alright very mature, biggest boy band in the world and this is what it’s come to? Amazing, congrats to everyone for winning the award for most-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Seokjin interjects, effortlessly shouting over everyone while waving his hands. “My brothers…why are we fighting over here like a couple of peacocks? We are all beautiful in our own, individual ways. Mine, for example, is my handsome face.”

“For the love of god hyung, we’re trying to settle something. Go take your inspirational pep talk elsewhere!” Jungkook bends his knees, swooping down to throw Jimin over his shoulder but he misses when the man starts tickling him ruthlessly.

“St-ah-stop it Jimin!"

“You stop it, you frickin’ brat! Trying to take advantage of our hyungs for your own selfish gain.” Jimin then slaps Jungkook on the ass which does not go unappreciated as Hoseok cackles from the other side of the room. Up until this point, he’s been scrolling on his phone, completely unbothered by the chaos. As Hoseok nears the action, Jungkook delivers a swift kick to Jimin’s rear end.

“Ow, what the fuck Kook?!” Jimin tries soothing the sting by massaging it with his hands. “You little prick!”

“Oh come on, I barely hit you. Gaining sympathy points won’t help this time, plus I see you trying to hide a grin. You think this shit is funny. You’re sick you know that?”

Jimin makes a move to return the kick to his youngest member but ends up hitting a far taller, and leaner subject instead. Taehyung, who just returned from the bathroom, throws a hand over his abdomen and grunts from the sudden impact.

“What is—shit Jimin that really hurt!” Taehyung’s baritone voice echoes off the walls as he winces from the pain. He takes a few deep breaths, then viciously eyes the two brawlers followed by the rest of the room. “What the hell is going on? I heard you all talking about __-nim from the hallway. Yoongi-hyung here is trying to kick off his album and tour, which we are supposed to be celebrating over drinks this Friday, but here you are arguing with each other and who has the biggest dick. Well, you can all put it away because as __-nim’s best friend, and number one wingman, only I’m allowed to set her up with someone and it won’t be with any of you! Sorry hyung…” he looks at Namjoon who appears to have brushed the comment off.

As soon as Taehyung ceases his mini-speech, eery silence sets in. Hoseok is the first to dare say a word.

“Uh, so what’s this about being her best friend Tae?”

“Yeah, I had no idea either.” Jimin quirks his head to the side, awaiting the details.

“Same,” Namjoon adds in a short breath.

“What happened to us, man?” Jungkook pouts at Taehyung, a total 180 from moments ago when he was in an unsolicited sparring match with Jimin. “You used to share everything with me. Now you’re holding out on me. Since when did you and __-nim start hanging out?”

Yoongi’s ears perk up for the first time since all the commotion began, curious to hear Taehyung’s response. He only recently discovered the blossoming friendship hours ago and even then, it was a brief inside look.

“I didn’t think to mention it but yeah, we started talking since her first day at Hybe. I bumped into her on the way into work, early morning for both of us. I expected her to be a bit on the reserved side, considering she was a new hire, but she was quite friendly. The more we talked, the more I felt like I knew her as if a childhood best friend I’d reconnected with.” Pausing, he wets his lips before continuing. “We share a lot of our meals together now, like our lunches during the weekday. Her food tastes amazing by the way. I think she missed her calling as a chef but it’s more than food— it’s a love language, a labor of love.”

“Wow, you two sure are connected,” Hoseok speaks first again, seeing the rest of his members working to process the new bit of info.

“Platonically, yes.”

“This’ll be good for Yoongi-hyung and his album then! No bad blood exists here!” Hoseok shifts his gaze between Taehyung and Yoongi, pleased with the outcome. The older of the two remains speechless, yet it’s far from a dazed expression. Yoongi is instead deep in thought, the wheels turning in his head.

So maybe it’s true that birds of a feather flock together, he hums to himself. The two of you seem to be social butterflies with a vase full of commonalities. He, on the other hand, prefers his solitude. That’s not to say he’s a hermit or anything though. Hybe hosts a company-wide New Year’s Eve party every single year and he’s made his best effort to attend them all. He mainly mingles with his members, but he still makes sure to small talk with other coworkers. Come to think of it, did he even see you at last year’s New Year’s Eve party?

He can’t remember much from the night except Seokjin scolding him for not wishing him a happy birthday the minute the clock struck midnight. He was a bit tipsy at that point. Taehyung disappeared soon after to make his usual rounds, stopping to chat with everyone in his path. Maybe he took off to talk to you during that time.

Okay, he really needs to stop thinking about you.

"Just to confirm, is everyone still on for Friday night to celebrate D-Day?" Jimin pipes. "I booked us a good place to have some food and drinks.

Taehyung nods, "I am, as long as it's not the same place we saw our CFO and his much younger date feeding each other. I couldn't eat for the rest of that night."

Jungkook fakes a gag before replying. "I'm sorry but does anyone know how is he still working here? Guy creeps me out."

"I swear, I couldn't agree more. Just yesterday he made an egregiously body-shaming comment toward __-nim to someone else on the board. She kept a brave front when she told me, but I'm damn tempted to get him removed from his position myself!" Taehyung's nostrils flare as he shares his frustration, fingers digging into his hips.

Yoongi takes a final chug of his water before abruptly tossing the bottle on the floor. A sharp crack resounds through the space, instantly commanding the authority of the room. “Fifteen minutes is over,” he gruffs. “It might be twenty minutes with all the bickering earlier. We don't have time to be talking about this anymore.”

“Come on now," Hoseok says. "Didn't you hear what Taehyung said? Our CFO really is a class-A jerk. I feel so bad that __-nim has to put up with his bullshit, she doesn't deserve it." His eyes frantically search the room, hoping to rally support.

"Don't worry about that asshole," Yoongi assures, "I'll handle it." He strides over to his choreographed position on the dance floor as if a leader in his own right, the rest of the members following in his steps.

"Just don't kill him, hyung," Namjoon says, resting a hand on the older's shoulder from behind. Yoongi merely snorts lightly in reply.

Yoongi is dead tired, his feet feeling heavier the minute he stands from his studio chair. He could have left hours ago, but here it is nearly 9:30 at night, and he's only just leaving the office.

As he shuffles down the hallway towards the elevator, he notices the eerie silence. It's thick, almost palpable. There's not a soul left in the building this late at night. When the elevator doors open, he leans casually against the metal rail, closes his eyes, and mentally retraces his day.

Overall, it was a decent day, he thinks, productive at best. Skipping dinner to work on his album tracks was an easy decision, but he might be paying for it now given the intense growling of his stomach. Despite his songs being considered perfect by his members, he can't help but tweak each one a final time. It's as if his gut tells him there's still a piece missing from the whole.

All at once, the elevator comes to a sudden stop. Yoongi's eyes shoot open, anticipation flooding his senses. Is someone still here? He listens intently, straining to hear any sound over the faint hum of the elevator. After a few moments that feel like an eternity, the elevator doors slide open to reveal an empty, dimly lit hallway. It's the 16th floor. He hesitates for a second, peering into the shadows, but there’s no sign of anyone. Strange.

Just as the elevator doors begin to close, Yoongi hears a distant, unmistakable voice. "Please hold the door!" you plead, your voice strained with urgency. He responds immediately, stretching out an arm to block the door. "Thank you so much," you say, slipping in beside him, your bag thrown over your shoulder.

Yoongi watches as you enter, curiosity in his eyes. It seems you were of like mind tonight, working late and likely burdened by the extra work he caused for you. The feeling of tension is as clear as it was yesterday, lingering as a reminder of the unspoken discomfort between you both.

But then again, there's that issue Taehyung mentioned, looming in his thoughts. He hadn't realized you overheard the horrendous comment his CFO made about you. No wonder you hurried away from him like a bat out of hell yesterday; you knew he knew. He wouldn't dare shine a light on the situation and risk embarrassing you further; no one needs to relive such a belittling experience. Yet, he's wrestling with the right words to say.

"Heading home, Min PD-nim?" You surprise him by speaking first, voice firm with a touch of gentleness.

Yoongi allows a faint smile to tug at the corners of his lips, hoping it'll relieve some tension. "I am, it's been quite a day. What about you?"

You nod, shifting the bag on your shoulder. "Same here. Just had to wrap up a few things before heading out."

He hesitates for a moment, noting how you speak as if it were only a few minutes past five or six in the evening. "I understand. I was working in my studio up until now. I should be back up there tomorrow too," he says, then chuckles lightly, "Sometimes I feel like I should just live up there."

You return the subtle laugh and smile softly at him, your light brown eyes catching his dark ones. It feels like the same prolonged gaze you shared upon first meeting, yet now, it's somehow become easier; perhaps a hint of familiarity.

"By the way," he continues, seizing the opportunity, "feel free to call me Yoongi-ssi. I'm not that formal in case you didn't know." He playfully gestures to his casual attire; tan cargo pants, grey plaid button-down, and sneakers.

You seem hesitant towards the request at first, evident from your delayed response. "Are you sure?" you choke. "I don't want to over step my boundaries."

"There's no need to worry about that," he assures. "We're on equal level aren't we? If we're going to be working side by side for the next eight months give or take, I want us to feel comfortable with each other. Please, call me Yoongi-ssi."

"Okay, I might need some time to get used to that," you say, head nodding, "I'll try calling you Yoongi-ssi from now on."

"There's one other thing too," he pauses, "since we'll be working on D-Day's promotion from start to finish, I'll have many of my own opinions. It's a natural instinct for me, but I don't want to be a hinderance. I don't want anyone else giving you issues either, so I'd like to hear your full thoughts on matters, especially when it comes to important decisions."

"That means a lot Yoongi-ssi, thank you. I'm very grateful that you'd allow me to be a part of this and I'd very much like us to have an equal partnership. This is your album though, so I want to make sure it gets the recognition it deserves in the way you'd prefer."

Yoongi glances at the floor numbers displayed to the right of the elevator doors. Any second now and you'll reach the lobby. He wouldn't mind talking longer, but letting you both get a decent night's sleep is the far better idea at this point.

"I trust that D-Day is in the right hands with you, __ssi," he replies. "It's why I recommended that we work together to promote it in the first place. Bang PD was also confident in the idea. We don't doubt your expertise for a second." He pauses when the elevator doors slide open and allows you to be the first to exit. "Have a good night, okay?"

For the first time, you reciprocate the wish with a full, illuminating smile. It's not a professional one, Yoongi notes, its a real one—as genuine and sincere as his words. He takes it as a sign that the tides may finally be turning for the better. "You too," he hears you say before you push through the large revolving doors and step into the cool night air.

In the evenings that follow, Yoongi finds himself back in his studio as promised, a glass of whiskey in hand. He ultimately decided that if he was going to be here until all hours of the night, he might as well have a cold beverage to keep him company.

As he leans back in his chair, swirling the dark amber liquor in his glass, his mind inadvertently wanders to you. Were you downstairs again? Were you here with him? It would seem that given your unexpected late-night encounter in the elevator, the validity of the idea wouldn't be all that wild or far-fetched.

With each passing minute, as the clock inches closer to the late hours, he finds himself circling back to the same thought. It's as if the possibility of running into you has become a highlight of his night.

Just then, a deep and familiar voice interrupts. "Burning the midnight oil again, hyung?"

Startled, Yoongi looks up to see Taehyung standing in the doorway, a sympathetic smile on his face. Despite it being almost 9 at night, his younger member is nothing short of flawless in appearance.

"Yeah, working on my tracks," Yoongi replies, offering a small smile in return. "What are you doing here?"

Taehyung steps further into the room, hand tucked in his pocket. "I wanted to stay late to keep __-nim company, but I'm not sure how much longer she plans on staying tonight. I was on my way out when I figured I'd stop by to see you too."

"Well, thanks for thinking of me. Want a drink?" He offers, nodding towards the nearby whiskey bottle.

"No, thanks," Taehyung declines politely, shaking his head. "I'll let you enjoy your whiskey in peace. Although, __-nim might take you up on that same offer one of these days. She has a strong taste for it, as you do. Anyway, I'm heading out. Don't overdo it with your music, hyung, they're already perfect."

Once Taehyung leaves the studio, Yoongi's previous string of thoughts return to him tenfold.

So you really are here, he muses, and you happen to like the same throat-burning alcohol. Should he venture downstairs and offer a drink? No, that would probably be too much, and he wouldn't want to interrupt you. Maybe if Taehyung were accompanying him, but not alone; he doesn't share enough rapport with you to merit such a spontaneous drop-in yet.

No, he takes another sip of his whiskey, he'll see you tomorrow morning instead; during your morning meeting. But that gets him thinking—he's still yet to decide on whether or not he'll make an appearance on Fallon's show. He’d done it with his members numerous times, but this would be the first time doing it alone. His album would indeed benefit from the exposure, though.

"Damn it," he curses, raising from his seat. "I work my ass off. I work my ass off for it all!" He then sits back down, finishing off the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, the burn soothing his frustration momentarily. With a resigned sigh, he turns his attention back to his music. "Damn it, I guess I'll do it."

If it weren't for his phone notification reminding him of his 10 am meeting on Friday, Yoongi would have missed it entirely. Normally, he never forgets important events, but several late nights in the studio had predictably caught up with him. He feels extremely sleep-deprived today, his memory more prone to blanking than usual. Waking up with a throbbing headache at 5 am, which hasn't dimmed in the slightest, doesn’t help either. Nonetheless, with only ten minutes to spare, Yoongi has no choice but to pull himself together and head downstairs to the conference room.

"Good morning, Min PD-nim," you greet him as he walks through the door. "We're about to start."

Yoongi drags out a chair and takes a seat. You look nice today, he notes quietly to himself. He makes sure to send a small smile your way before returning the warm greeting. "Good morning __-ssi," he says. "I told you we can speak informally didn't I?"

He waits for your response, easily tuning out the startled reactions from the rest of the team. Most high-ranking officials in the organization expected to be addressed formally by those in lower positions, but here he was, openly requesting you to speak as equals. It was almost unheard of during work hours. He was Min Yoongi, after all.

"Right, of course," you reply, "You'll have to excuse me, Yoongi-ssi. It slipped my mind for a moment."

Yoongi watches as you shuffle a few papers in your hand before continuing. "To get us started, I thought we'd discuss the decision to schedule a spot on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. Will we be proceeding with this?"

"After mauling it over I think it's a good idea for the album. Do we have an idea of when this would happen?"

"Ideally after the album releases and around the time the U.S. tour begins April 26th. I say we aim for early May. Given Fallon's show's high demand, we'll need to get a jump on this as soon as we can." You shift your attention to your digital marketing and promotions team. "So-hyun, can you reach out to the producers and see what strings we can pull?"

She nods, scribbling a quick note on her writing pad. "We'll reach out today. I'll let you know as soon as we get a response."

"Excellent, thank you. I'm glad to hear you're on board with this Yoongi-ssi. It'll be a great way to promote D-Day and attract a global audience. The more smartly we utilize our resources, the better your album will be positioned in the current market." You take a brief pause to flip through your notes again. "Speaking of resources, we'll need to start booking magazine shoots and interviews. I'm proposing we run cover pages with Marie Claire Korea and Vogue Japan."

Yoongi would be taken aback by the flood of ideas and schedules you're firing at him, all within the first fifteen minutes, if he weren't already aware of your level of competency. This is exactly why he chose you, he hums to himself, your preparedness is impressive, but not surprising.

"I presume this will take place next year?" he asks. "During their spring issues?"

"Absolutely. We'll submit inquiries soon to get the ball rolling, but having the shoots completed now would be premature. Plus, it'll take some time before there are any openings with the companies. I think we should be consistent with tour dates and have Marie Claire go out in May and Vogue ready in August of next year."

"Okay, I'm fine with all that but we'll need to have something exciting released now, don't we? I know I start my weekly lives tonight, but shouldn't there be something more we can do?"

"I agree," you reply. "That's why I wanted to propose a brand new idea that came to me a couple of nights ago while I was drafting promotional content. Anytime idols release a new album or music, it gets published on YouTube, right?"

He nods, curious on where you're heading. "Right."

"Why don't we start a talk show with you as the host Yoongi-ssi? It can allow your fans to see another side of you, as well as the general public. We can invite your BTS members as guests where you can discuss music or past challenges that you've had to overcome—the choice is yours. To make it more interesting for viewers, you can have these frank conversations over a glass of whiskey or soju."

"I like the idea," he says, weighing it in his mind. "What would the timeline look like for this?"

"If we move forward with the idea, I suggest December 5th and we continue it for a max of two months. I know that only leaves us with just under two weeks to get started, but creating the set shouldn't take more an a day or a day and a half. We can also easily shoot a 30 to 60-minute video in an afternoon and publish it on YouTube the following week. Of course, a preview of the show will need to go out beforehand."

"Would we be able to invite other guests to the show? Outside of my members, I mean."

"Yes, feel free to invite whoever you'd like. We can start with the member for the first several episodes but ultimately, welcoming a variety of guests from the same or differing industries would be the goal."

"If I may." A member of the social media team suddenly joins the discussion, "I think Kim Namjoon-nim might be a good person to feature first since Indigo releases December 2nd."

Yoongi nods in agreement. "I can ask him."

"That would be fantastic, actually. If his availability is limited, we could have him guest star for the second or third episode instead," you add. "Hoseok released Jack in the Box this summer so we could have him be the first guest as well."

"Do we have a name yet?"

"Suchwita," you answer without hesitation. "It's a play on words with Daechwita."

"Suchwita..." Yoongi repeats, "Time to get drunk." He chuckles at the last few words, amusing the room, but you remain contemplative.

"How about Suchwita...time to drink with Suga, instead? It's simple and has a slight whimsical nature."

"Sure, let's use that," he answers, noticing that you've already begun jotting down the idea. "Yours is better."

Despite the adrenaline from the productive meeting with you and your team, Yoongi still feels the weight of his sleepless nights bearing down on him. His headache remains relentless and he is in dire need of a moment to himself. Once the team disperses, he slips his phone into his pocket and makes his way outside. The crisp, early morning air should offer him some relief, along with the pack of cigarettes tucked in his pocket.

When he reaches the building's designated smoking area, Yoongi takes out a cigarette and lights it, taking a deep drag as he leans against the cool brick wall. As he exhales, watching the smoke dissipate into the clear sky, his thoughts drift back to the meeting. The idea of hosting a talk show, "Suchwita...time to drink with Suga," still lingers in his mind. It’s an intriguing concept, and he can already envision the relaxed, candid conversations that could come from it.

His thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching on the ground nearby.

"Oh, Yoongi-ssi," you say with alarm, obviously startled by his presence. "I didn't mean to interrupt you. I'll come back lat-"

"There's no need for that. Join me if you'd like." Yoongi watches as you hesitate to accept his offer, your feet already positioned to head back inside the building. "Seriously, there's plenty of room, and no matter what they'll tell you, I don't bite."

He allows himself to smirk as you carefully move beside him, only stopping when there is at least two feet of space between you both.

"Thanks," you say, pulling out your own pack of cigarettes and lighting one. "I needed a break too."

"Rough morning?"

"Just busy," you reply, leaning against the wall next to him. "But the meeting went well. We should be able to get the ball rolling now that we have a more finalized plan. I'm glad you liked the idea of starting Suchwita, by the way."

"I do," Yoongi says, nodding. "It has a lot of potential and I'm sure Namjoon will be more than happy to help us out. He's a natural at this kind of stuff. I guess it's why he's our band leader."

"You know you're good at all of this too, don't you, Yoongi-ssi?" You pause, taking a puff of your cigarette. "Even when you have a lot on your mind and a packed schedule, you have a knack for making people feel at ease. It's why I think producing Suchwita will be such a great way to connect with fans and other artists—you'll be the host."

He chuckles, appreciative of the remark. "You really think that? That I make people feel at ease? It's not what a lot of people assume."

"Nah," you reply, tilting your head up toward the clouds. "They're just on the outside looking in. Those who know you, who are around you and talk to you, will agree that you're a pretty calming presence."

"Well, I think we're not so different then." Yoongi shifts his eyes to your face, still looking up at the sky, and smiles softly. "So, what made you come to BigHit? Didn't you say you worked for Atlantic Records? That's a pretty good gig."

"Yeah, it was. I learned a lot there, and man, I was thrilled when I got offered the job as a brand manager. I've always loved music, ever since I was a kid. I could connect so intimately with the lyrics. Music is one of the few things that could soothe me during rough times, and it still does today. I'm sure you can understand."

Yoongi nods, intent on listening to your every word, intrigued by your story.

"Anyway, sorry about getting long-winded here" you chuckle. "I ultimately decided to move on when Bang PD reached out and offered me the marketing manager position for TXT. It gave me the chance to be a more integral part of bringing music to individuals who need it most. It's like we say, 'music for art and healing.' I'd never had the opportunity to manage a completely new set of musicians before either, let alone a group. Plus, being on the global marketing team? I couldn't turn it down."

"It makes sense why you joined us then, and I have to say, it's a blessing you did too. Music is a way of communication for me, a way I can best express my story. That includes my past, present, and hopefully future. After hearing all you shared, I don't think there's anyone else I'd trust with handling my album promos." Yoongi pauses a moment, unsure if he should ask the next thing on his mind. "How come we never met before? I mean really meet and talk?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure myself. But things have a way of falling into place when the time is right, I suppose." You're now looking at him, the intensity of your gaze mirrors his own. A gentle breeze tousles a few strands of your hair and for a split moment, Yoongi begins to understand what Taehyung meant earlier when he said it feels like he's known you his whole life, like a childhood friend he'd reconnected with. While it may not be to that extent for himself, there's a comforting warmth emanating from you that leaves him feeling strangely tranquil.

"Given the circumstances, I feel like we should have at least met through Taehyung by now," he slips out. "Or even at a company-sponsored event."

"Why, do you like me that much, Yoongi-ssi? After five days of working together?" Your playful tease catches him off guard, revealing a side of you he hadn't seen before. It's kind of cute-wait, what?

"I-"

"Sorry," you quickly interject, feeling the need to backtrack. "I shouldn't have said it like that."

"Don't worry, there's no need for apologies. And to answer your question, I like you enough." He hopes you can hear the tease in his own tone as he responds.

You both lapse into a comfortable silence for the next few minutes, the only sounds being the distant hum of traffic and the occasional chirp of a bird. He finds all of it soothing in a way he can't quite explain.

After a few minutes, you turn to him, your expression thoughtful. "You know, if you ever need to talk or just need a break, I'm here. We're teammates now."

Yoongi looks at you, his tired eyes softening with gratitude. "Thanks, __-ssi."

You give him a reassuring smile before pushing off the wall. "I'll let you finish your cigarette. See you later? And by later, I likely mean at 9 or 10 pm in our company elevator."

"Yeah, see you later," he laughs, watching as you walk back toward the building. He takes one last inhale, extinguishing the cigarette and letting the remaining smoke escape his lips slowly.

Yeah, he likes you just enough.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed it! Lmk what you think 🥰

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by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 7}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Summary: A letter, clear words, the work forged by skilled but aching hands, all of it helps you to heal from what had been one of the worst weeks of your life.

Word Count: 13.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, age gap (reader is early 40's and joel is 57), pining, requited unrequited love, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, mild injuries, confessions, lots of feelings, light angst, hurt and comfort, fighting, two (2) satisfying slaps, joel miller's hands need their own warning, smut, p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), soft joel, pet names (sweetheart), serious conversations, apologies, references to child loss, minor character death, blood, talk of female anatomy, reader has no assigned name but has a commonly used nickname, lemme know if i missed any major ones!

A/N: SURPRISE, Y'ALL!! i was supposed to have internet installed this week but it's been delayed again and my local library is only open today and since queues make me nervous, i threw caution to the wind and yeah - WE MADE IT. this is the final chapter! i am so delighted and humbled by the responses to this fic. i put a lot of myself into olive and for everyone to root for her and cheer her on means so, terribly much to my lil heart. i love y'all and i hope this finds you well ♡

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The hush of cardstock is the only sound in the room as Joel shuffles through the recipes you had written down for him, for him and Ellie. The fancy loops of your cursive are faded, a little blurred in some spots and he regretted your time and devotion getting smudged by his lack of attention. He had been too slow to retrieve all the index cards where they had landed, flying into the air as you had run straight into his back. It had taken so long because Marsha hadn’t seemed to get the hint or his direct words that he was not and would not be with her the way that she wished for him to be.

But she did now. She had been picking Millie up when Joel had all but kicked the door in, shouts of needing help echoing down the street. The woman had flattened herself to the wall, eyes taking in your unconscious form in Joel’s arms. How carefully he maneuvered, how mindful he was to not jostle your body too much, how frantic his expression was even as he tried to explain what he could to the nurse and doctor who sprang forward at the sight. His brows were drawn together, worry evident as he explained to them your stitches from a few days ago had opened, how you had been coughing up blood before he found you. The fear in his strong voice when he detailed how cold you were, how unresponsive. All of it combined was a reflection of his care for you. Something only seen in his interactions with Ellie. And now with you.

Joel had felt pride surge in his chest at seeing the damage you had inflicted on the other woman, guilt flaring just seconds after. You had been pushed to your breaking point, not just by her but by everyone in your life. Evidence of the fight was etched across your body from the scratches from the woman’s nails up and down your arms, the tangled tresses of your loose hair, to the bruises that had blossomed along your soft skin.

The most notable with the tearing of your stitches. The stain of blood on your skin in places he couldn’t wipe it away, for fear of harming you further, even in your unconscious state. It had been three days, and you still hadn’t woken up. Even after the repair to the wound, a better stitch pattern was implemented and two blood transfusions. One from him and one from Tommy.

He hadn’t wanted to leave your side since he brought you in, but he had things he needed to take care of. The few people who interacted with you coming in and checking on you, him coming to spend each evening by your bedside and staying through the night. Maria was across from him now, Macon sound asleep in her arms as the clock ticking on the wall displayed the post sunset hour.

“Marsha will be interrogated at the next town meetings, for her behavior and words towards Olive.”

“Good.” Joel croaked, his voice gravely from disuse.

“Millie will be on next week’s patrol with you, per your request. Once she’s adequately trained, she’ll be added to the rotation.”

“If she takes to being trained. I have a feeling she might pretend to not learn anythin’ just to get out of it.”

“We’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Maria hummed in agreement, knowing more than Joel the small requests and complaints the woman has made in her time behind the walls. “It’s time some of the people who have been idle share the responsibility. Besides, Olive requested to be taken off patrol before. I’m sure she’ll double down on that once she’s recovered.”

“Please tell me she didn’t hate being forced to be my partner when Tommy asked. I don’t think I could ever apologize enough if it was somethin’ she didn’t want to-“

“Joel, she was okay with it, believe me.” Moving to stand, the woman reached to rest a hand on your legs beneath the blankets. “She was glad to feel like she was trusted enough to be asked. She never had any ill feelings toward you, even when she didn’t know you.”

She watches him, he can feel the weight of her stare on him as he continues to go over each of the cards contents. There’s a bag beside him, a small canvas thing he had loaded up with some spare pieces of lumber from bigger projects, scraps that he spent the evening hours whittling and carving as he sits beside you bed. He alternates between doing that and going over the cards, habits to keep him awake as he sits vigil and waits for you to return to him.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect when you came back. But…you surprised me.”

“How so?” He knows he was always a sore and heavy subject between her and his brother. Even more so when he quite literally stumbled onto their doorstep. He had been determined to change, to give back into the second chance at life he had been handed, for Ellie, for his brother– for himself. Aligning himself with the customs and way of life carved out in the plains of Wyoming. He’s glad he hadn’t fallen completely to the depraved, hallowed out version he had adapted to, had been forced to become with the loss of everything he knew, with the loss of his daughter.

“You’ve meshed well with the lifestyle we created here, got onto good terms with one of the best people we have here.”

He didn’t look up from the cards in his hands, he knew that. Deep down, he knew you hadn’t minded patrolling with him. But it was hard to understand with how messed up everything was at the moment and he lost himself to the circling thoughts of how hurt you had looked as you stood your ground with him a few days ago in your kitchen. But his head shot up when a whimper sounded into the air that wasn’t from the woman or his nephew.

You were stirring in the bed, eyes still closed. Hands shaking as they raised to cradle your middle, mind no doubt recalling the circumstances of your last waking moments. Joel’s heartbeat was loud in his chest, echoing in the spot where they had drawn blood from the inside crook of his right elbow. Macon gurgled in Maria’s hold, wide eyes cut towards you as you shifted a little underneath the blankets.

“Joel…” You murmured, eyes clenching shut tightly. You weren’t rousing, you were still unconscious, though your mind seemed to be in working order if you were dreaming. Joel sets down the index cards atop the blankets over you, moving closer to grip a hand with both of his, the other laid out flat to ensure the line of the IV didn’t get tangled or kinked.

“I’m here. It’s okay, you’re okay. ‘m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m right here, Olive.” He soothed you as best he could, the wrap of your fingers around his stirring his heart to beat faster in his ribcage.

As he’s leaving the morning, a patrol that he would be taking Ellie out on with the approval of the council to begin her training as well, he see’s the shadow of two figures approach your room out of the corner of his eye just as he’s placing a parting kiss on your forehead.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know anyone would be here this early.” It’s the sister and brother pair you had insisted on bringing back. The woman, Callie Joel thinks her name is, is holding a hand to her swollen stomach protruding out from beneath her long coat. It looks like it wouldn’t fasten with how far along she was. Nolan, the man who had been with you when this whole mess started was a step behind her and a bouquet of dried flowers clenching in his hand.

“It’s okay, was jus’ leavin’.”

“Look, Mr. Miller.” Nolan steps up to him, leaving a few feet of space as Joel turns to head to the door while Callie sidles up to take the chair he had slept in and scoot it close to your unconscious form. “I tried my best to tamp down the fight, but Olive, she’s…she’s a scrappy one. Was on that other girl before I could even blink.”

“Millie. The other one’s name is Millie.”

“Millie did this?” Callie questions from her spot holding your hand in hers, eyes wide. “She’s been so nice to me, I had dinner with her and her mom just last week…”

“Millie ‘n Olive don’t get along too well, bad history.” Joel hopes he isn’t overstepping your privacy by saying so, but if the two were intent on being at least friendly with you, they deserved to know that not everyone was so forward in their interactions with you. “Patrol gone wrong, they both lost someone important to them and Millie didn’t deal with it well.”

“She called her a whore, when she saw us talking.” Nolan explained, “Olive moved first and apologized, but all hell broke loose when Millie hit her back.”

“She what?” Joel felt anger burn hot through his veins, the implication of you being anything other than kind and thoughtful not sitting well with him. No wonder you had snapped, Joel hadn’t found out exactly what had occurred, the council stemming the raging gossip as best they could as soon as it began to spread. Reminding people to deal with personal issues in non-confrontational ways or punishment would be doled out and extra duties would be tacked on.

The two fell quiet, feeling the anger simmering in him. Joel’s face had darkened, brow furrowed deep and his jaw ticking as he tried to get a control on it.

“Y’all have a good day.” He manages before he’s out the door, his steps even and nearly silent as he makes his way out of the infirmary. He’s at Marsha’s in the blink of an eye, fist knocking against the wood of their front door.

“Marsha isn’t home, she’s serving out her punishment by taking over Olive’s morning shifts at the mess hall.” Maria’s voice calls to him as she strolls down the street. Macon is in her arms, but he’s fussing. She stops and places him in the baby carriage in front of her and quiets him with a pacifier. “Millie is out getting the rundown of how patrol works and what her responsibilities are.”

“Did you know that Millie called-“

“Yes. It’s been dealt with.” Maria’s voice implied she didn’t agree with what happened, that it was indeed being considered with much thought, not taken lightly with how it built up to the point of combustion in the town’s center on one of the busiest nights.

“Easy now, honey, there you go.” Tommy’s soothing voice allowed for you to feel less embarrassed about how slow moving you were, how long it was taking to trek from the infirmary to your house. His arm was around your waist, his other in front of him as he held onto your right hand for added support. “Joel will probably be knocking on your door the second he gets back from patrol and finds you gone from the clinic.”

“He can knock all he wants.” You huffed out, not too sure how you were feeling toward the man at the moment. Once you had woken up, the nurses told you he hadn’t left your side during the nights you had been there. Tommy and Maria sharing with you the way he had been frantic to find you the second he had found out about your fight with Millie. The decision of you no longer wanting to do patrol being portrayed as a punishment for your violent outburst. But the council held no real ill will toward you, having addressed the behavior you faced from more than a few of the townspeople.

“Marsha is due to cover your shifts at the mess hall, the early ones. Until you’re ready to go back.”

“Dunno, think she needs more ‘n a week or two tackling that hectic shift.”

“There’s my girl,” Tommy beamed, glad to know you weren’t too injured to show the side of yourself he knew.

As you turned down your street, Tommy let go of you at your insistence to try and support yourself. After a few stumbling steps, you managed to find your balance, even if your pace was still on the slow side.

“Joel ‘n I fixed your door. Well, we made a new one, actually. Old man did some damage to the other one when his big bulky frame was pushed into it by those storm winds,” He chuckled, most likely picturing the ordeal that was far more tense and serious than a mishap on Joel’s part. It had been…one of the hardest things you had to do, stand your ground and deny the man you had come to care. Especially in the face of him practically confessing to you that he shared in your feelings. “Cranked the heat up to get it back to the temperature you prefer. Even watered the plants for you, fed that stray that comes around sometimes. I think it found the crate you set up for it on your back porch.”

“You’re too sweet, Tommy. Thank you.” You watched as he unlocked the door and for the first time since leaving the infirmary you noticed how he was constantly shifting. His weight from foot to foot, his hands raking through his long, dark curls.

He helped you up the few steps of your stoop, his hands a gentle weight, arms ready to tense and catch you should you lose your balance. Once you were settled in your bed, a bottle of pain killers and a glass of water on your bedside, the man tentatively settled on the foot of your bed.

“I wanted to apologize, formally.” He started, brown eyes glittering in the midafternoon sunlight filtering in through the blinds. You leaned up from the pillows propped up behind your back and up against the fabric headboard, about to say something but he held up a wide palm to stop you. “You told me ‘n Maria in passing the behavior people have toward you. It was out of our control, freedom of speech ‘n all but…we should’ve at least tried to tamp it down more than we did.”

“Tommy, everyone has already done so much in letting me in, giving me a chance. I did-didn’t want to stir any trouble and it wasn’t real-really anything I couldn’t handle.”

“Honey…” He stands up and nestles himself between you and the edge of the bed, his back on the headboard right next to you. He brings you into his chest and kisses into the crown of your head as you return the embrace. something he hadn’t done since you appeared back at Jackson’s gates with blood covering you head to toe and the corpse of your friend draped over the back of your horse. “You deserve to feel comfortable, to feel safe. No matter what.”

The next morning, after a night spent tossing and turning, you shuffled down the hallway and into the kitchen without turning on a light. It was still dark out, using what little of the streetlight so close to the front of your house filtered in through the sheer curtains. When you sat at the kitchen table, you tried to set your mug down but there was a clatter as the bottom of it collided with something already resting there. And the space next to it, it seemed the whole table was covered in stuff, leaving no room for you to set it. Mumbling about people being in your house and rearranging your stuff, you shuffled over to the lamp atop the storage hutch’s middle shelf.

But you’re shocked when you flick the light on and turn back around to the table. It’s…covered. Every inch of the surface taken up by small stacks of what looks like intricately carved plates, serving trays, spoons, spatulas, and small figures that look like birds moving in a downward swoop. The coffee still in your hand splashes a little to the tile beneath your bare feet, starting you as it bounces up to kiss the skin of your ankles. But you pay it no mind as you absently set it on the hutch beside the light and move to the table with watering eyes.

It had to have been him. Joel.

The plates are beautiful, vaguely floral shaped and stained such a deep mahogany. They’re not too heavy, though they are very sturdy in your inspecting hands. Turning each one from the three separate stacks of them, each a different size from dessert to salad to serving plates, reveal a small J.M branded into the wood. Each of the leaf shaped serving trays reveal the same, though they are heavier and a bit harder for you to turn over in your weakened state. Large smoothed edged bowls are nestled in each other, the topmost one holding matching large serving spoons made your heart lurch and your stomach swoop.

The carving had been lovingly attended to because each rivet and swirl, each boarder and flat surface, it was all so seamlessly smooth. On evert single piece littering your table.

Tears are trailing down your cheeks to rest atop his intricate creations. The sight of two sets of spoons and two sets of spatulas held together with twine making you have to clap a hand over your mouth as a sob wracks through your body. The memory of hurling the ones you had requested from him flashing too bright and loud. You had taken something crafted by him and thrown in across this very kitchen, disrespecting the time and attention he had devoted to the request you had made.

Collapsing into the chair, you let the emotions of the last week take over you. Your coffee is lukewarm when you rise to retrieve it, but you twirl a carved bird in your hand as you sip from it, tears waned for the moment. That’s when you spot the large, flattened pieces on the other side of the table.

Cutting boards, three of them. Each one with a branding on the thick sides to label them individually for herbs, vegetables, and meat. The entire surface of each it sealed with a coating, but beneath it on the corners are floral patterns that you squint your eyes to take a closer look at. Gasping, you realize he had depicted the blooms often found on olive trees. His voice suddenly rings in your head as your mind recalls something you weren’t even conscious for but had filed away.

‘I made you one…I made them all for you. All of them, every single one….C’mon, sweetheart. You gotta let me save you so you’ll have one. I’ll give you anything, I’ll give you everything. Olive, please.’

‘I’m here. It’s okay, you’re okay. ‘m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m right here, Olive.’

The tears flow, with no end in sight as you reach a shaking hand for the note you see laying atop the largest one.

‘Olive, I know I’m shit with words, I know I’ve sent such mixed signals with everything. But I want you to know, need you to know that seeing you is the best part of my day, of every day. Even if it’s just across the mess hall, across the street, as I walk home from patrol and see you in the window of your kitchen with a soft smile. The talks we have, the questions we share, every single word we’ve exchanged as made me feel worthy of the things you think of me, for the first time in a long while.

You are such an extraordinary, kind, thoughtful person and I am so lucky to have made it here to Jackson to cross paths with you. I can’t change what happened, but each hitch of your breath, each tug of the brim of your hat over your eyes, each moment spent with you makes me want to wrap you up in my arms and keep you close. I don’t want the first time you hear the words from me to be in writing, but, Olive. I fear I’ve fallen for you, and it’s made me such a fool. Please take these gifts for what they are, a representation of how I think of you every second of every day. Of how you inspire me to be a better person. Of how much love I have for you. J.M.’

Your coffee goes completely cold as you sit at the table, reading the note over and over again.

The gentle knock on your door kickstarted your heart, fluttering hard in your chest as you knew who was on the other side of the repaired wood. You turned the burner off on the stove top, shifting it to rest atop one of the cooler ones. You called for the man who held your heart to ‘wait a second, please’ before you turned to the table and reached for one of the serving bowls, spooning out the steamed contents of the pan into it and placed it back among the others already atop the table. The table was full, dishes coloring the spread laid out across the table. The rest of his gifts had been carefully places in the hutch along the back wall, some of them displayed behind the glass of the topmost part.

Toasted sandwiches cut into triangles rested atop one of the leaf serving trays, the one you had just filled up with three different types of steamed and roasted vegetables. A glass pitcher of fresh juice you pressed earlier a deep red and shining in the flames from candles interspersed between the trays and plates. You nervously ran your hands down the front of your apron, a worn but loved patterned thing that wrapped around the back of your neck and at the back of your waist.

The brownies looked a little thick, now that you took a second to consider them. A rich buttercream piped into a swirling tower amid them stacked up on one of the larger flower plates. The midsize ones set in front of two chairs with empty glasses and clean utensils beside them. All set up, all waiting.

For him, for Joel.

Moving to the door, you paused and took a deep breath to calm yourself, the titter of shyness you weren’t sure you would ever overcome when it came to the man on the other side. Reaching for the lock, you clicked it out of its setting and twisted the handle to open the door.

Joel was stood there, silhouetted against the bright winter sun, the broadness of his shoulders and the volume of his curls on display so close for you. His head had been hanging, one hand on the wall beside the door. And when he looked up to catch your eyes, your breath hitched and you felt your fingers twitch at the urge to pull him close. To let him make his written words a reality and cradle you in his arms.

“I-I got your no-note. And the – the things you left f-for me.”

“Did you,” He cleared his throat, hand moving from where it was supporting him to fall to his side, clenching and unclenching in that own nervous habit he had. His eyes roved up and down your body, taking the image you were making in your doorway. You felt like you looked okay, but your hair was a little frizzed out from the heat of cooking. And you were so, incredibly self-conscious. He was such a handsome man, and you were…just you. His voice was shaky, something you couldn’t ever recall hearing from someone normally so controlled. “Did you…like everythin’ alright?”

“It’s all so perfect. Th-thank you.” You smoothed your hands down the front of the apron again, nervous and unsure of how to approach him even as your body hummed in anticipation from the thought of it. He loved you. And you loved him back.

“And the- the note?”

“Y-yeah.” You couldn’t bring your eyes up to meet his, too self-conscious with how all uncharted everything seemed to be.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I-“ He surged forward through the open door, but his boots scuffed as he cut the movement short. You had unconsciously stepped back, nerves alight from the last time you had been approached. Muscles twitching, your arms tingled with the way you tried to relax from the sudden tension that had flooded your entire body. Fight or flight activated. You could see the way his throat bobbed with the nervous swallow he took before sighing out a deep breath. “Olive, I swear to you, I- you’re so good. The sweetest, prettiest thing I’ve had the pleasure of knowing in my time and if you’ll let me, I’ll be a good man for you. I’ll be a good man with you.”

“Joel, I-“ Your words choked off into a sob, tears trialing hot down your cheeks as your emotions spiked and cascaded over you. Hands trembling as you did reach out for him, fingers wrapping around the unzipped edges of his thick jacket. He moved into you, his own hands coming up to cradle your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here, I’m with you. Not goin’ anywhere unless you want me to, okay?” He holds you, letting you bury your tear-stained face into his neck. The flow of them still falling from your eyes dampening the fabric of his flannel.

“D-do you want some lunch?” A shy smile pulled at your lips, heat blooming in your chest even as the tears continue to fall.

He seems to release all of the tension in his shoulders as he sighs out something relieved. You can tell he’s a little confused by the question, but he wasn’t going to turn it down. The opportunity to spend time with you, to talk to you. He had come here, after all, not even knowing where you two stood after everything. Fresh from a patrol, you could smell the lingering scent of hay from the stables on him. The leather from his gloves sliding along and holding the reigns of his horse. Nodding, you finally manage to meet his eyes and your breath hitches even as a pang of worry echoes in your chest.

“H-how was patrol?” You wait for him to take a seat before you go to pick up the pitcher and pour him some of the juice you had made. His hands are a soft hush over yours as he takes it from you and pours himself a glass before reaching for your own empty one with a lopsided smile.

“It was good, took Ellie out for her first one. She’s been buggin’ me about it since the start of winter.”

“Is she going to be my replacement? I don’t want her to feel like she has to if she’s not ready.” His eyes move over your face as you spoon steaming vegetables onto his plate and then yours.

“Maria agreed with me that Millie should be trained up, she’s starting with me next week. It’s part of her punishment for instigating the fight.”

“Oh.” Another thing for the woman and her mother to hold against you. You worried for a second of how much damage you had done to her in your near fugue state but then realized if she was okay enough to start patrol then she was far better off than you happened to be.

“We don’t have to talk about that or we- we can, if you want to. Just…just want to talk with you. About anything.” About anythin’, about nothin’.”

The conversation isn’t much from then on, but it’s enough to hold his attention. You’re tired, so incredibly tired and lethargic from the emotional morning you had, from putting all the food spread over the table together, not much of it left after Joel devours a lot of it. Starvin’ he had said through a bite, pink tinging his ears as you offered to make another sandwich for him. He had assured you everything you had made was enough and now a half pot of coffee sits in mugs in front of you each, brownies bitten into after dipping it in the frosting you had made.

As soon as his two were swallowed, he turned beseeching, wide eyes to you and you found moving to stand between his legs. His arms were so warm around you, the food and his company weighing you down in the best way as you wrap your own around his neck. His face is buried in your chest while you press a kiss to his steel curls, something that worries you for a split second before he sighs out a small ‘you’re so soft, sweetheart’.

“I-I want to talk more, but,” Your weight sagged against him, his arms tightening around you to help keep you on your feet. “I’m so tired, Joel. I think I need to lay down.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand, lemme just- I’ll clean up lunch and get out of your hair, go on and rest.” But you didn’t move, your breath hitching as you leaned back enough to peer up at him. Your eyes surely gave away how drained you were, but you weren’t quite yet ready to let him go. Even if things were a little stilted and there was so much to discuss. Right now you just wanted to lay down, to get off your feet and relieve some of the tension on your stitches.

“W-will you stay?”

“Of course.”

He follows silently behind you, boots thudding on the hardwood flooring of the hallway. Each step matching the beating of your heart. Through the door and into your room, you realize he must’ve already been in here, it was so tidy and the laundry that had piled up was neatly folded atop your dresser.

If he’s just as nervous as you are, he doesn’t show it. Seemingly taking things as they come, letting you shrug him from the flannel you had unbuttoned. When you move your hands to the buckle of his belt, one of his large hands covers both of yours. Looking up, you reassure him nothing has to happen and that you aren’t ready for anything to happen but you don’t want the denim on your clean sheets. He nods, letting you continue to disrobe him. A shaky laugh falls from his plush lips as you notice the line of him through his boxer briefs, it twitches under your quick glance, and you feel a swoop in your own stomach in response.

He asks if you need to change to, offering to turn around. But you grip his wrists and bring his hands to the ties at the side. It’s a loose thing, to help you manage to move around better, the prospect of pants and a belt too daunting despite the season. He carefully lifts the fabric from your body, his eyes on your face the entire time, even as the clothing falls to pile on top of his. With a nervous giggle, you lead him to the bed and you both get comfortable underneath the covers. It’s early, not even the sun has set, but neither of you seem to mind the time.

He's settled against the pillows when you reach out a hand on your normal side of the bed, fingers tangling with his as you lay slightly on your side toward him. The bandages around your middle are obvious underneath the camisole you wear with your underwear. He’s facing you too, his other hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I…I want to.” Your words are barely above a whisper, as you take in the image he creates beside you, filling the empty part of your bed with his broad frame. His steel curls flattened on the pillow, his warmth only a few inches away, his eyes soft and watching you as you collect the words from your mind to fill your tongue. It had been something you yearned for since that first brush of his hand against yours, that first smile you managed to pull from him with an offhand comment, from the first moment he asked you a question in return to one of your own. Even if someone else had shown you the same kindness, his would be the one you sought after. “Be with you.”

“I want that too, sweetheart, more’n anything, but…I hurt you. I know that, I was careless in my attempts to be careful, to not push you. To…surprise you with what I wanted to be the first thing I gifted you.”

“Tommy told me. You know I thought some kids stole that piece of the trunk?” Your eyes glitter with a hint of mirth, teasing tone light and reminiscent of times past. It’s fleeting, the bone deep exhaustion settled in your body not only physical but mental. “I…Joel, I worry about…everything. All the time. You deserve to the chance to thrive here, for Ellie to thrive here and…being with me would-“

“I’d choose you over the town any day, you’ve gotta know that. Me and Ellie, we’ve been through a lot but we’re tough, you don’t gotta worry about us. I know…that people see her lack of manners and anxious tendencies as something that needs to be fixed. Maybe, yeah, the little troublemaker could stand to hold her tongue sometimes but she’s so young, she’s got a lot to unlearn from being raised the way she was. She’s a good kid, she’s good but you are too. We’ll take it slow, because I haven’t done this dance in while, hell, ever really. And I want to do it right, I want to be what you want because I definitely know you don’t need me.”

“I haven’t needed for anything in a long time, but Joel Miller believe me when I saw my days are better when they’re spent with you. Even…even the bad ones to an extent.”

“I’ll apologize a thousand times.” He tightens his grip, tired eyes trained on them. There’s a sadness to them, the depths of which he had let you glimpse once before. Loss, pain, devastation in the wake of when the world has broken and then turned into. You share in that sadness, having lost the person you had devoted your life to protecting, having lost the life you had just begun to flourish in before it was ripped from your hands, having lost a child that you could still hear crying in your sleep some nights…

The words are on the tip of your tongue, the need for comfort from the one person you wanted it from, needed it from. It was true that you had been complacent before him, not concerned with the things people felt the need to pursue in the lives they felt safe enough to pursue here in the town. That he stroked yearning in the very core of who you were, something you hadn’t ever experienced even back when the world was thriving and bustling as it once had been.

“Can we j-just kiss a-and start to move for-forward?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I exactly deserve that right now…” Your face falls. The small, shy smile dipping and the sides of your mouth dropping into a frown as you feel the burn of tears prickle again behind your cheeks. The rejection hurts, even if you understand why he feels that way and agree with him to an extent that this situation isn’t going to magically fix itself.

“But I do.”

He doesn’t even think to argue, not with the way that he’s leaning close to touch his soft lips to yours as soon as the words leave them.

“I’ve gotta get goin’, sweetheart.” Joel’s whisper roused you, so close you reached for him. Long fingers curling around his wrist, nails lightly scratching the soft skin there. He felt the cumulation of inching out of bed slowly and quietly to not wake you as the vain attempt it was. He should’ve known his efforts would be fruitless, his resolve chipping away to nothing when you breathed his name out on a sleepy sigh. “I got training patrol. Be back early this afternoon, bring you something from the mess hall, alright sweetheart?”

You only hummed in response, lips pressed against his wrist now, sending tingling trickles of sensation all over his body at the easy way in which you displayed your affection for him now. It had been a couple of weeks. Two weeks of you making dinner one night, then walking him through another the next day. Of coffee in the mornings when he wasn’t busy, the never-ending list housed on the spiral notepad in his back pocket present in only the worn fabric over his pockets, the actual thing mysteriously gone. A break for the season, he has said when you asked him, palming the fabric of his back pockets one day.

As you lay in bed, dozing back off in the wake of his departure, Joel is outside the gates with a nervous Millie astride a horse beside him. They stop on as Joel figures an open field a few miles away would be the best bet for practice. Far enough for the sound of gunfire to not echo back and alarm people but close enough to rush back should something go awry.

“Know anythin’ about guns?” He looks over to the younger woman, her eyes wide and her head on a swivel as she constantly takes in her surrounds. He feels a little bad that she’s so on edge, but the only way to make her more comfortable is to get her out more and more. Allow her to see that it doesn’t have to be all bad. But he does understand her reaction, she’s never been outside the walls, had never been outside the town that it was before the walls went up. She had been younger than you when the world shattered, had people to look after her and care for her.

“My daddy taught me how to shoot them when the world fell apart. But that was…a long time ago now.”

“Okay, well, we’re gonna see what suits you better. On patrol we use shotguns, but a handgun will do in a pinch. The key is range, keeping any threat as far away as possible.”

“Yes, Mr. Miller.” She watches him closely as he removes the shotgun slung around his back. He checks that the safety is secured and he holds it out to her as she moves to stand beside him at the beckoning of his hand. He walks her through the general mechanics of the gun, firm in her not placing her finger on the trigger until she was ready to shoot.

“Are you right or left handed?”

“Um…I favor my left.” He hands off the gun to her, telling her to practice her grip on the large gun while he rummages in one of the packs attached to his saddle. He’s got a cloth bag that he fills with snow and ice that coats the ground, propping it up a good distance away on top of a long dead tree stump.

Time passes and her aim gets a little better, though she’s taking too long to line up her shots. Joel reminds her to just take a breath in and shoot as she exhales. But the words cut off as he sees movement on the horizon of their spot on in the field. He’s off a ways from her, by the target he had set up for the woman to practice on. He’s turned to hold a halting hand up to her before he takes his own gun out from the holster and puts one of them down.

Another sprints from the cover of the forest nearby, but he’s focused on taking down the other two far too close for comfort. Just as he turns to take out the one closing in on him, it lunges and he’s struggling not to fall with the sudden weight slamming into him. His gun goes flying and he curses out as he tries to fend it off with his arms, the snapping of its mangled teeth loud and far too close to his face.

He wishes he had spent a few more minutes with you in bed, pressing his lips to your forehead to your cheek, to your plush lips, to any part of your body he could as the bullet ripped through him and pain sparked hot across his entire chest. Through it, he manages throw the stunned thing to the ground, another shot flying from across the field to land directly in the back its head. Joel is looking up as he bends down to retrieve his gun, his other hand pressing hard to the burning in his shoulder. Millie is too focused on him to see the blur running toward her, too late in her shifting attention as it grips her shoulder tights. Taking a deep breath, Joel tries to focus as best he can to line up his aim and take out the single Infected that remained.

He shoots and it goes down.

His shoulder throbs and his vision darkens at the edges.

“Joel!” You shout, simmering panic making you forget common manners as you burst through the door leading into the main exam room of the infirmary. There are three beds lined up on the opposite wall, other rooms set up for more serious cases that required overnight stays. Millie and Joel are settled into two of them, the younger trembling and holding her right shoulder while Joel is pressing a kerchief to his front, blood soaking it through.

Marsha is already plastered to the side of her daughter’s bed. Making no noise whatsoever, which was just as uncomforting as you realized how pale she they both were. Blood splattered over Joel while Millie looked relatively unharmed.

Millie launches into a jumble of words as she gets up from the bed, but you stop her in your tracks with a chilling look over your shoulder as you go immediately to Joel’s side.

“You need to back the fuck up, Millie. I told you I’m not engaging with you anymore, now go back to your own bed and mind your business.”

Turning from them, your eyes land on Joel and he’s barely able to keep his eyes open as he lays across the bed. Your heart stutters, as does your voice the closer you get to him.

“You two are just perfect for each other with your penchant for harsh words.” Jealousy was ugly on the older woman, making her act out towards you but more concerningly towards Joel. He hadn’t done anything wrong, even in the moments he had let his anger flare around her and he scolded her for her manipulation and childish behavior. He had told you all about it, about every interaction between them to tide your hurt feelings and assumptions about them. He hadn’t needed to do it, but he had wanted to be completely transparent. To share with you the things he experienced.

“And you would be just perfect for recognizing harsh words, wouldn’t you?” You fire back, not even bothering to look over your shoulder at the woman who had caused so much grief and anxiety. Your words seem to stun her, as she doesn’t rebuff you in anyway, but you feel guilt flash at the kneejerk reaction, still so worried about upsetting anyone or instigating anything remotely unfriendly. But Joel was bleeding and it you were far more worried about him at the moment.

“What ha-hap-happened? That’s so mu-much blood!”.” You ask him quietly, concerned with how his unseen injuries could be affecting him. His fingers twitch, letting you know he was trying to reach out for you. You sidle up beside him, hands reaching for his left as your wide eyes take in the expanse of his naked chest. The nurse has on pink stained white. One of the nurses bursts through the open door, ignoring the tension in the room, quickly getting to work with the tray of equipment she brought in. Her pristine gloves immediately take on a pink stain, blood gushing over his front as she digs a pair of long tweezers into a large bullet hole. She exposes in his right shoulder once she peels back the collar of his jacket and cuts away the tattered collar of his undershirt. “J-Joel, did you g-get ambushed by In-Infected? Or was it peop-people?”

“Was an accident.” He grunts out, hand tightening over yours as the nurse works to stall the bleeding.

“Millie sh-shot you?” You feel ire bubble up ugly and thick, heart beating hard at the thought of Joel out there with no protection other than the person in question, the person who had no idea how to begin to fend for herself or an injured person beyond the walls. She had been so young when the world broke, a few years younger than Aiden had been when you took him as your responsibility, his parents being the first to turn in the restaurant.

“Oh, would you shut up with that god-awful stuttering? Grown woman can’t even speak properly in a moment of crisis.”

“Mother!”

“Making a bad situation worse by simply being here, why don’t you let the nurse take care of him and just leave?”

“Mother, enough! That is no way to talk to Olive, she puts her life on the line every time she goes out beyond the walls. She and Mr. Miller have helped to make this a safe place, you should show her respect and leave her be!”

“Millie Antoinette, that is no way to speak to me.”

“You’re going to lecture me on language with the way you’ve been slinging backhanded insults about Olive all these years? Blaming her for something completely out of her control, berating her for her stutter when you know she can’t help it because the whole town makes her feel like she’s walking on eggshells.”

“This conversation is not over, we will continue this at home.”

Finally turning to look over your shoulder at the way she began to take out her frustrations on Millie, your eyes were set hard and your displeasure was obvious as you took in the way Millie’s good arm was being held far too tightly by the woman.

“Why do-don’t you just keep my na-name out of any future conversations you may have. You’ve caused enough damage, your own daughter paying for your actions and getting injured because of it. Joel getting injured because of it. No one is to blame but you and the influence you’ve lorded over her all these years. Twisting and tainting the memory of the man she loved, the man I devoted my life to protecting and ensuring he got to live a somewhat normal one after the world fell apart. He wouldn’t have wanted her to harbor such ill feelings toward me, toward what happened. But you turned it into something to use against me and you hurt her worst of all, teaching her it was okay to behave like such a child!” Your

You’re breathing heavy by the end of your outburst, finding your voice after stuttering through the first words. Unconsciously reaching for and tightening the hold on Joel’s hand through the entire exchange. He squeezes it in reassurance, through the nurse’s ministrations.

“You tell ‘er.” Joel slurs as the nurse secured a large patch of gauze over his would, betadine staining the edges of the material. The action of pressing down the tape around the corners making him hiss out a pained breath and your attention focuses on him once again.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you ungrateful little-“ You could feel her approach you from behind and you let go of Joel’s hand, not wanting to jostle him should she push or shove you. She was about your height so when you swung your hand out, your palm landed right on her cheek with enough force to turn her head as the sharp slap echoed around the room.

Red blossomed bright on her skin. Her fingers twitched and you landed another hit without thinking before she could make a more intentional move.

“I know you were not about to touch me,” The feeling of your lip lifting up in a slight snarl was unpleasant, but you couldn’t help the visceral reaction to the woman after everything she had done.

Even in the wake of trying to be polite and cordial with her when you thought her and Joel were a thing, she had shown you thinly veiled niceness in return. Her eyes always watching, much like a hawk stalking its prey. But you wouldn’t be her prey any longer, unwilling to play the part she had bestowed upon you for no good reason. You weren’t a malicious person, you weren’t a violent person. Not anymore. You were kind and thoughtful and did everything you could to be nice and help out where you were needed or wanted, and you would not put up with the woman any longer.

She raised her hand up once the shock of your quick movement wore off and you used the back of your forearm to knock it down, your hand sliding down her arm to capture her wrist in your grip. Her widened eyes found yours and you hoped, fleetingly, that she was unnerved. She cried out when her wrist began to smart underneath the force of your grip, trying to pull it from you but you didn’t budge. She was a fool to think using her free hand to pry at the fingers you had wrapped around her to no avail. You saw the thought for her to raise it at you flash across her face before you felt Joel’s hand gently pull at the back of your sweater.

“That’s enough, Marsha.” Maria’s voice was harsh, cutting into the scene suddenly. “Seeing as your daughter is in good hands, let’s have a little chat.”

The woman’s harsh expression, the twist of her mouth about to shape around a degrading insult, the furrow of her brow as she focused on you, it all fell away the second she realized she had an audience.

The nurse tending to Joel moved silently from Joel’s bedside to Millie’s as you released Marsha from your hold to follow behind Maria.

“Olive, I am so sorry. For everything. You’re right, Aiden wouldn’t have wanted any of this. I-I feel so…badly for how I’ve ignored you all these years when I should’ve been there to comfort you. You lost him too.” Millie cries as the nurse tends to her bruised and swollen shoulder, there now that Joel is taken care of. There was a large bruise marring her skin that was around angry looking welts, scratches that looked like they hadn’t broken the skin, no doubt from whatever occurred outside the walls. You tried focus on her, but it was hard with the adrenaline of confronting Marha thumping harshly through your entire body, Joel could surely feel the trembles where he held onto you.

“We were practicing shootin’ and a group of five or six of ‘em came outta the trees.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you began to peel back his opened flannel and shoved up the shirt he had on underneath. Hands frantic as you felt all around his body for signs of a bite. When you brushed against his groin to move down to his legs to check underneath the denim, you noticed he had fallen quiet. Looking up at him from where you were inspecting his shins, you clocked the way he rested the inside of his wrist over his zipper and belt buckle. His face was tinged a little pink at his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

“You could’ve led with that!”

“I’m okay, sweetheart. Millie shot the one that almost got me, but the first shot missed and then she took it down. She didn’t see the one comin’ up behind her cause she was so focused on helpin’ me.”

“Just lay back,” You croon sweetly, gently pushing the bulk of him to sit atop the bed.

“Yes, ma’am.” Joel groans, adjusting his hips as he scoots up to lean against the plush headboard.

It’s soft everywhere in your room, from the fabric of the headboard to your sheets and covers, to the dried flowers and sheer curtains hanging over the windows. He feels swaddled in the best way, completely wrapped up in the little world you’ve created in your space. The mix of him seen interspersed between your many books lining new shelves he crafted for you to replace the old, creaking ones worn down over time. A carved serving plate he had made for you, atop your bedside table and housing a tube of hand lotion, a note left from him the other day when he had to leave in the early hours. One of his flannels hanging up from a set of floral hooks he had made to go on the back of your door.

He was just a present influence in your home as you were in his. From the multiple bottles of oil scattered about his stove top, to the leftovers clearly labeled and stored in his fridge, to the pair of underwear that had ended up nestled with his in the top drawer of his dresser. The very ones you wore underneath his shirts when you slept over in his bed, making the sheets smell a heady combination of you both that had him seeing you in his dreams even more.

It had been a slow dance of homemade dinners, of nights spent in each other’s bed, of searing kisses and soft words shared between you both over the last two months. Both healed from the events that had allowed for the confusing and heartbreaking one to shift to this one, where it was obvious you both wanted each other, both had so much adoration for each other. But you were still so shy around Joel, never letting things go further than wandering hands sneaking beneath clothing.

But tonight, you were feeling so encompassed by the need to see him, to touch him, to be seen and touched by him in return. Tommy had let slip it was your birthday tomorrow when he asked if you were still coming around his and Maria’s for dinner. Joel had been confused why you hadn’t shared that with him, you knew when his birthday was after all. And everything that came tangled with the date.

“Joel,” You whispered against his lips, having moved to hover over his lap with your arms atop his shoulders. His hair had grown long, the thick locks brushed back by his large hands to swoop into gorgeous curls behind his ears and over the back of his neck. Nearly brushing the tops of his broad shoulders, he groaned out as you toyed with the ends of the long locks now. Nervous energy made it hard to keep your hands still and you confessed quietly as you ran your fingers through the curls. “I…I need to tell you something before we- before we, um, do this.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” His eyes blink open, concern and worry glinting in them as he takes in the way you’re worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “We don’t have to do nothin’ if you don’t want to or aren’t ready. Just wanna be with you, no matter what.”

You start and stutter a few times, the words trailing off as your emotions spike and memories find their way to the surface. But it was the right thing to do, to share this part of your past with him. The potential for the mood to be ruined all to glaring as you realized it would be one of the heavier things you shared with the man who had become you partner in every definition of the word.

“Joel, I…I don’t have, um, I don’t have all my…parts.” Waving a hand over your lower stomach, right where you rested over his own. His confusion was obvious as he focused on the part of your body in question, his plush lips parting as he contemplated how to better ask for clarification. But you leaned back a little, your thighs tightened around his hips as you did so to pick up the hem of your camisole and unbutton the jeans you were still dressed in. A faded but thick scar ran from the bottom of your belly button, swooping below it in an imitation of a smile and then down in a straight line from the middle to disappear beneath the band of your underwear. It was completely healed, but still pink in discoloration.

“The doctors at the QZ we briefly stayed at in the beginning of everything…they did a hysterectomy after I had my…son.”

“Olive…” His hands raise from where they were around your hips, shaking slightly as he pauses in his reach to caress the marred skin. His eyes flash up to meet yours in a silent question for consent and at a small nod, he brushes the knuckle of his index finger over it. Shuddering at the soft touch, you watch the way emotions flit across his weathered face.

“They weren’t nice about it, I still…I still have pretty vivid nightmares about it because there was very little anesthesia, something about rationing the drugs and it…it was one of the most painful things I’ve had to endure. But…I thought you-you should know because I know you have some years on me, and you said you don’t think…an accident would happen and you seemed genuinely concerned because of my age. But it wo-won’t because of this.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel presses the palm of his right hand over the scar, the warmth of his skin soothing just as much as the kiss he placed on your cheek. “You’re…you’re okay though?”

“As okay as I can be about it,” You consoled his worry, breath hitching as he gently caressed the skin beneath his hand. “I waited until I was healed a year, when the threat of infection was long gone, then I took Aiden and…and Ezra and I got us the hell out of there.”

He didn’t ask how you lost Ezra, he didn’t berate you for your choice to leave the QZ, he didn’t ask how you had even ended up in that situation in the first place. He didn’t do anything but slowly move to where your back was on the bed, and he was hovering over you. Soft kisses and the brush of his mustache trailing over every inch of skin he could see. His fingers slid beneath the thin straps of your top in a silent question, and you sat up enough to allow him to life the garment from your body. Willing to show yourself to him, to take the offer of his soothing comfort. His breath puffed out at the sight of your naked chest, his fingers skimming up to brush against the supple skin and hardened peaks now on full display.

He clocks the way your fingers move to the buttons of his flannel and fumble, prompting him to take over for you to push it off his own shoulders, his undershirt disappearing along with it to the floorboards. But before you can move onto his belt, he’s gently pressing you back to the bed and pressing the plush softness of his lips to your body, trailing lower and lower until he brushes them so lightly over your scar.

Your breath hitches and you can feel the small smile as he takes his time to worship your body. To sooth the emotions he must know it took to confess something so big, to engage with him in this way even if you wanted to. Mind’s always tickin’ he would tease, no heat behind his words, but adoration.

Fingers skimming over soft skin, the callouses of time and skill a heady sensation over it ahead of his lips, he slowly shimmies the undone fabric of your jeans down your legs. He takes the time to undo and step out of his own pair before he’s back on the bed, attention focused on your legs as he begins to move up, up, up. Only giving you the barest of chances to take in the thick line of his hard cock as it twitches beneath dark fabric.

His fingers slide underneath the waistband of your underwear from where his palms rest wide on your upper thighs, his mouth suckling the plush skin before him. His lips feel like heaven, like finally stepping through your front door after a long shift, like a hot bath after a long day, like a breath of fresh air after being in a stuffy room. It feels like home. Startling slightly at the sudden press of his nose to your clothed core, you feel more than hear the rumble of his chuckle.

“This okay, not too much?”

“Not too much,” you assure, lifting your hips to allow him to drag the fabric down. Heat blooms in your chest, worry for not being as pretty as someone else or as groomed as you used to be. But all of your anxieties and insecurities fade away as you look down and see the way his eyes are trained on your glistening cunt. He groans out as he drags the beck of a knuckle over your puffy outer lips, reveling in the jerk of your hips at the light contact.

“’s pretty, sweetheart. So perfect.” Is all the warning he gives you before he’s spreading you open with both of his hands and burying his face between your thighs. A long, warm wet lick with the flat of his tongue from one end of you to the other has your head thudding against the pillows and your hands searching for purchase in his hair. Pleasure sparkles all over your body, glitters behind your eyes as he tastes you, suckles that little bundle of nerves, as he gently glides two of his thick, warm fingers right inside and curves them up.

His name is a strangled sound puffed into the air, your breath hitching in the way he admitted to loving so much as he begins to pet your inside walls with his fingertips, his lips latched around your clit. His patchy scruff and mustache adding to the feel of him against your skin, against the most intimate part of you he’s taking his time in pleasuring. It takes everything you have to lift your head enough to peer through bleary eyes to find him already staring up at you. His pupils blown so wide there’s no hint of the deep brown they’re made up of. His brow is furrowed in concentration, the tops of his cheeks barely visible a deep hue of pink as he worships you.

While still holding your gaze, he purses his lips and sucks, turning the sparkles of pleasure into hot waves as they overtake you. Your body isn’t your own any longer as it tenses, back arching clean off bed, your thighs clenching around his ears. Your lost in the force of the pleasure he pulled from you as easily as breathing, taken every moan and sigh as signals to what you liked best, listening to your body like he was meant to. It’s no longer yours but his.

“They’re we go, so good, sweetheart. You taste so good,” He murmurs as he helps your through the crest before pulling again to palm at himself through his underwear with one hand, the other holding your bucking hips down to clean every last bit of your release from where his fingers are pulled from you.

Reaching for him, you tug at him, urging him up to his knees so you had run your palm over the trail of dark hair that disappears below his waistband. He moves his hand from where he’s holding himself through the fabric as your fingers sneak below and touch him for the first time. His hips cant, pressing firmly into your willing hand.

“Take these off, please.” You whisper as you wrap your hand around him, barely able to touch the tips of your fingers with the girth of him fully hard. He’s hot against your skin, velvet soft over the rigidness of his cock. Finally seeing all of him as he pulls the fabric down and pushes it past his thighs. You let him go for him to toss them over the side of the bed, eyes taking in the stretch of his body through the action.

He’s peppered with freckles over his tan skin, chest covered in thick hair that’s the same steel grey of his curls, thick thighs tensed with the way he sits before you on his knees. He’s littered with scars, some thin and crisscrossing over each other, some raised thick to disrupt the smoothness of his skin, though none hold the same untold story of the one at his temple. The one he lets you brush softly before sleep. But they don’t take away from his beauty, they enhance it and let you know without a doubt he’s a fighter.

His cock is thick and long, ruddy at the tip and bobbing despite the heft to kiss his stomach as you eye him up and down. Every inch of him is beautiful and you tell him with a sigh, body singing for him to come back to you. Locking eyes with him, you see his own insecurities wash away at the wonder and admiration you gaze at him with.

As soon as you move to reach for him, he’s doing the same. Mouths connecting and laying his body over yours to feel every bit of your skin against his that he can manage, your legs parting to wrap around his waist. You gasp at the bump of his tip to your folds, the breathy sound turning into a moan when he grinds down against you, his hands tangling in your hair as he swallows it straight from your lips.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he reaches down to grip himself, guiding the ruddy tip to your entrance and holding his breath for the barest of seconds. You nod, unable to form words so wrapped around him, so covered by him, to consumed by him and what he means to you. Twin moans decorate the air as he pushes in, the girth of him stretching you and causing heat to lick at every single nerve.

It’s soft and slow, sensual the way he moves against you. Taking in the moment for all that it is, showing you in the most intimate way what you mean to him as you feel how deep he gets with every thrust. But when you moan out for him to go harder, to go faster – he willingly obliges. The slow roll of his hips shifting into quick snaps against yours, a hand gripping your thigh over his shoulder as he presses down in such a delicious way. You can tell you startle him when you cry out, the head of his cock catching that perfect spot, as your hands scrabble at his shoulders and your nails dig into the freckles skin of his broad back.

Sighing, you take a moment to stretch out your shoulders once you remove the apron from around your neck. It’s well into February and you’ve take back control of the morning shift at the mess hall.

Marsha had done a…well, she hadn’t done the best, but Maria had stepped in the week before you had been due back. To ensure everything was exactly the way you preferred it. It had been a lot of long early morning shifts on top of staying through the lunch service. You had tried to stifle your amusement at Maria complaining about how fast the woman had tried to get through cleaning tasks to get home before the sun set. None of it had been good enough for Maria, knowing that you dedicated yourself to making sure things were not only clean but ‘Olive clean’ as she termed it. Turning the whole dining room and setting up the kitchen for a smooth open the next morning since dinner was normally left to the individual households or the Tipsy Bison.

Part of her punishment was formally apologizing to you and thanking you for your service to the town, but it hadn’t happened. You weren’t holding your breath for it to happen, either. It wouldn’t undo all the anxiety and hesitancy you still had even now interacting with anyone outside of your very small circle.

“Miss Olive?” The sudden voice of someone peeking their head through the swinging door that led into the kitchen caught you off guard. “Oh shoot, I am so sorry! I didn’t meant startle you.”

“Oh, it’s okay, just lost in my own head. How can I help you?”

They step inside, an older couple that comes at the same time everyday, enjoying the quiet before the rest of the residents make their way into the dining room.

“Just wanted to say it was a good meal this morning. We really appreciate all the work you put in providing for the town. Glad to have you back in the swing of things.”

“Oh! Well, th-thank you very much. I’m glad you enjoyed today, had a couple friends urge me to include the pastries.” They nod at you, waving before turning away and disappearing back through the door. A smile graces your lips as you shrug on your coat and wrap a scarf around your neck. The kind words help you to trudge your way through the built up snow from the night before, none of it having melted once the sun rose. The winds are still sharp, piercing in their added chill to the air.

Your home is nice and toasty when you enter, intending to shower the splash of porridge that had gotten you, sinking into your skin even after you had wiped off. But you pause when you catch the scent of fresh coffee and hear a distant grunting coming from your back room. Instincts taking over, you reach for the bat leaning up against the corner behind the front door.

“Hello?” You call out, unsure of who would be in house since Joel was supposed to be on patrol with Ellie. Maria and Tommy wrapped up in council meetings with Macon dropped off at the school to be watched over.

“Jus’ me! Shit-“ A loud thud cuts off Joel’s words and you’re rushing down the hall to find him crouching on the floor, hands busy holding the framework of a shelving unit where it had tilted over. “Hey, sweetheart, wanted to have this done by the time you got back.”

You had torn out the old shelves of the back room, the wall smoothed and painted over a few days ago when you had tried to reorganize everything and one of them came crashing down. Ellie had been over a week or so ago, indulging in your vinyl collection as she did homework while she stayed the night, Joel on an overnight patrol. Apparently, she had shared with him the scary moment that prompted the change to the wall.

“Are you okay?” The words rush out as you move around him to help push the large structure back onto it’s base. He sighs as he stands, knees cracking from the added weight of the wood against him as he tensed and braced against it. When he did, your eyes rove over him to ensure he really was okay. Then the bump on his forehead catches your attention as he looks over to you. It’s red and slightly swollen.

You see the small scrape on his cheek, blood beading up along the thin lines.

“Damn thing just shifted as I was adjusting the line up. ‘m okay, promise.”

But you close in on him, hands cupping his face as you pull it down to you, brushing your lips lightly against the bump as his hands wrap around your waist. Shifting down, you kiss just below the thin scrapes, not wanting to pull at them or irritate them further before reaching for a kerchief from your back pocket and dabbing lightly at the blood. Pulling back to peer into his eyes, you see the almost shy way he’s looking from you to the shelving unit.

“There,” You press your lips to his next, his eyes fluttering shut at the swipe of your tongue against his plush bottom one. He swallows the sound that bursts from your chest as he pulls you close. He tastes like the coffee you had smelled when you first walked through the front door. Humming out an, “All better.”

His grin is bright, the dimple in his right cheek fluttering your stomach as you catch sight of it hidden in his scruff.

“All better.” He parrots before shifting you both so your back is to the wall he had been working on installing the shelving unit against. “But you ain’t supposed to be home yet. Your present isn’t ready.”

“Present? I didn’t ask for anything, Joel Miller.” You crane your head around to try and look at what he was doing, too concerned with him to see what he had been trying to do exactly. But he brought a hand up from your waist to grip at your chin and he halted the movement. “And aren’t you supposed to be on patrol with Ellie?”

“Traded off with Tommy, told ‘im I had something important to do today.”

“Joel…”

“Nu-uh. You’ll have to wait to see it, birthday girl. Macon is due for pick up in an hour,” You huff a laugh as he bends his knees to lift your weight and toss it over his wide shoulder. Hair falling loose around your face, it’s impossible to see anything as he struts out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom. He sets you down atop the vanity counter with a light of his own at how disheveled your hair got.

“So pretty,” He muses quietly as he brushes it from your face and tucks it behind an ear. Heat creeps up your face, still not used to such open compliments from the handsome man. Stepping away for a moment, he fiddles with the shower knobs to get the water going, ensuring it’s the perfect temperature that you prefer. He helps you to disrobe, trailing his lips over every inch of your upper body as it becomes exposed before ushering you into the stall with a parting kiss. We’ll head over to Tommy’s for an early dinner once I’m finished up here, yeah?”

“Yes, of course.”

Dinner was a small affair, Ellie using one of the recipe cards you had made for Joel to attempt her hand at a casserole and a cake. The noodles were far too mushy and the cheese was a little too crusted, but you wouldn’t trade her bright smile as she set it down with a flourish for anything in the world. The cake was a touch better, the frosting smooth in most places and the perfect amount of sweetness to counteract the rich chocolate she had been adventurous in trying out. Two candles were lit atop it after meal, her smile infectious as you thanked her and reached to squeeze her smaller frame to yours.

“Alright, alright. Now make a wish and blow them out!” She was excited, Macon imitating her as he bounced in your lap.

“Macon, want to help me?” He gurgled his agreement, barely able to hold his head up and only for short bursts of time. But he pursed his lips as you leaned closer to the cake and blew. He made a sputtering sound, bubbles forming at the corners of his lips and everyone laughed as he seemed shocked at the smoke lifting from the now spent candles. You looked over to Joel, catching the soft smile he was sporting as he watched on.

But you were both in your home now, having left at the assurance of dinner being cleaned up and the kitchen tidied. You were standing in the back room, taking in the sight of what he had been working on all day. Floor to ceiling shelves had been installed on the wall that was shared with the kitchen on the other side. The supplies you kept for the harvest from the olive trees aesthetically placed in the cubbies.

“Joel, it’s beautiful. Thank you so much.” You felt the heat of him as he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. His deep voice was so close as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. He guided you out of the room and across the hall to your bedroom, waddling his frame around yours as he refused to let go.

“What’d you wish for, sweetheart?” He whispered, as if it was a secret he was hoping to be privy to, your breath hitched as you turned in his arms and snaked your hands around his neck.

“Nothin’, just…for everything to keep on the way it has been. I’ve got everything I need.” You leaned up and kissed him, his hands tightened around your waist, and you giggled as he dipped you a little with his enthusiasm. You could feel his own smile as his lips moved against yours and you breathed out one last laugh before pivoting your bodies toward the bed. He let you, so willing underneath your touch.

The next morning you both rise early before the sun, helping each other dress and then walk hand in hand toward the stables, boots crunching over the thin ice that had formed overnight. Just as you lead Lowry through the gates, Joel astride is own horse, he turns to you with a lopsided grin.

Your eyes trail over him, landing on the worn fabric of his back pocket, the spiral top of his notepad tucked securely inside. It turns out the faded patch was your business after all and you smile at him in return as he speaks.

“So what’s your favorite movie?”

You answer him honestly, earning a huff of slight exasperation for your answer. Turning the question on him as the sound of steady hoofbeats and soft conversation flows over the open plains of your morning route.

previous chapter || end

taglist:

@joelsgreys @morning-star-joy @sawymredfox @pascalpvnk @littlemisspascal

@merz-8 @orcasoul @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag

@picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @joeloverture

@joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @corazondebeskar

@honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @hiroikegawa @dugiioh

@persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc

@part2joelmiller @formulafun @noisynightmarepoetry @sofiparallel

@blueberrylemon7 @maryrhodalouandted @joelsdagger @fluff-lover

@communism-bitches @slugz-writes-shit @mosssbawls @vie-is-punk

@ohhellotherebumblebee @koshkaj-blog @amyispxnk @wand-erer5

dividers by the lovely: @/cafekitsune and /saradika-graphics

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hwanchaesong · 2 days

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━⁠☞🍽️First Course: It's always this, it's always that. The never ending demands you have failed to meet. How much more can you take of this bitter situation? 🥢

🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Enough For You

wc: 1.4k

genre & warnings: angst angst angst (no happy ending here with hj), reader learns how love must work in a relationship, lovers to exes, marriage, other idols appearance, cursing, insecurity, just pure angst :D

a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

You watch Seonghwa and Mina sway to the romantic music for their first dance as a newly wed couple, and your heart flutters with joy seeing them so happy.

No, jealousy was never an option for this one because you've seen their journey together. How their relationship blossomed and now, they are entering a new phase of their lives together. It was truly magnificent.

"Hey. Mind if I join you?" a voice brought you out of your reminiscing, turning your head to look at the source and you were dumbfounded to the core.

The man that you have been avoiding for the rest of the day is standing in front of you in his full glory, an awkward yet hopeful smile on his face as he awaits your answer.

"Yeah, Hongjoong. Go Ahead." you replied, returning the smile before sipping the now warm champagne in the goblet that you have been ignoring for the past few minutes in lieu of admiring the pair in the middle of the reception area.

A moment of silence, and he dared to break it.

"It's been a while since I last saw you. How's life?" he inquired, making small talk and you fight off the urge to leave him there alone, but no can do, you're not gonna be childish in the presence of your ex-boyfriend.

"It was good," then you paused, blinking and correcting yourself, "no actually, I have been living the best life."

He was taken aback at your slightly ironic tone, not used to the way you're speaking, like you're a completely different person after your separation, and only a month has passed since.

"Well, as for me.."

He trails and you roll your eyes, you did not ask how he's doing and certainly not interested. But you maintain your poise, not wanting him to see that he's having a negative effect on you.

"I've been miserable... without you, at least."

You whipped your head to look at him incredulously, an aghast scoff coming out of you unconsciously at his audacity to tell you that.

Wasn't he the one who decided to end your relationship? He was the one who destroyed a 5-year long bond, so what the fuck is he on about?

"Are you serious?" he looked offended when you asked him that, like he was pulling a stunt or something but who could blame you?

"Why would I even joke about that?" he mutters back, frowning when your confused expression turns into an appalled one.

He really isn't serious, right?

After all the shit that you have to go through because he's always wanting, needing, and looking for more in you.

You've never really seen the importance of going outside all glammed up, your friends and family have always complimented your bare face. A natural beauty, as they liked to call you. Then you saw the girls that he dated back when he was younger, and it made you insecure.

So you learned how to do hair and make-up. Buying expensive ass hair curlers, eyeshadows, foundations, lipstick, brushes and all that shit just for him to say to not notice what you have been doing.

You observed him to no end, taking notes of his likes and dislikes. His favorite dishes and drinks, colors and style of clothing, heck, you even memorized the song that he's been humming to for days.

The books beside his bed and on his shelves weren't left untouched by you. Every page was read dutifully so you could relate to him whenever he tells you a story about a recent book that he had bought.

But it seems that your efforts were all in vain, as there is always something that is lacking in you.

"The colors of your outfit are not matching."

"Oh, I'm actually trying a new kind of coffee today."

"No, wrong author, I can't believe you'll make a mistake about this."

It may be the emotional attachment or the undying commitment that you hold dear for him are the reasons why you continued to change yourself for him. In your eyes, he is absolutely perfect, and you're determined to fit in his aesthetic.

You were determined to make him accept you.

But as they all say, the more you burn, the more you turn yourself into ashes that will inevitably crumble.

And the snapping point was nigh when you're tired and he couldn't even bat an eye on your well-being.

"Is that what you're wearing tonight?" Hongjoong eyes your appearance, black dress and clean hair and make-up, and if you ask anyone, they'll say that it's simple yet elegant.

Truth to be told, you don't have the energy to go all out for the event that you're attending. Still, you did your best to look presentable, and you did a great job, you think.

It was a hellish week for you. Finals are coming up and you're dying from all the studying, you're also struggling in your part-time job because of the lack of sleep. The worst one was the nagging of your parents, constantly asking you about your plans for the future.

Everything was taking a toll on you and the last thing that you wanna hear came from the very same person that should have been a source of comfort.

Hongjoong sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Just.. stay put in one place. I can't have you embarrassing me further than this."

There you go, you lost it.

"Embarrass you?" a deriding tone rode along with your words, "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Y/N, do you see yourself? I told you to do your best, and this isn't what I envisioned." he mumbles, expression souring when you exuded such an attitude in his words.

"Ah." it was flat, the way you said it, as you were suddenly hit with the realization that even when you restart and destroy yourself, it will never be fucking enough for him.

Gosh, he could've at least acted better. Feigned care and faked affection, but he can't even give you that.

And you're so fucking done with his bullshit.

"I will not come with you anymore. Go alone." you muttered, turning in your heels and heading to the bedroom.

"What? Y/N, stop being a child."

"No, Hongjoong. I need you to stop being a know-it-all, go fuck yourself."

That was the first time you stood up for yourself, and damn did it feel good. Like you're finally free from his restraints, and it's addicting.

He rolls his eyes at you, muttering a 'Suit yourself.' and exiting the house, not even an ounce of concern at your sudden outburst, and that was all you needed to make a cathartic decision.

That was the day you left without a trace, and you can finally breathe without him cursing you into the darkness of being inadequate.

He blew your phone up, messaging and calling you, and you were disappointed when it ceased just after a day. It says a lot about him though, on how much of an asshole he is.

Especially after a mere three days and he's already posting a new bimbo in his social media accounts.

At the present time, you're tempted to spill the alcohol in his face and probably ruin his expensive suit.

How could you even believe him that he's serious, that he's not kidding when he made you feel like a clown.

You chuckle, staring straight ahead, "Did your new girl dump you or something?"

"No. I just realized that it's different, you know? If it's not with you then it doesn't feel right." he admits, looking down at his shoes because frankly, he is ashamed of gazing into your eyes.

You couldn't help but ridicule him, standing up from your seat and straightening your dress, shooting him a dangerous glare, "I told you this before, and I'd repeat it a thousand times."

You smile wickedly, flipping him off, "Go fuck yourself."

You walk away, not paying attention to his desperate calls, the polite facade is gone in the wind and the only thing that you could think of is that you're not gonna allow him to break your heart and soul anymore.

You have only started to regain your true self, not the image that he wanted you to have, and you'll be damned if you'll let him get inside your head again.

Kim Hongjoong was a lesson, one that you'll never forget and never forgive. Maybe you loved him too much, but at least you now know that if someone truly loves you, that person will accept you for who and what you are.

taglist:

@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @shakalakaboomboo @xdannix @nsixns

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wildemaven · 13 hours

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fifth anniversary : a curated love | dieter x poppy

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader (nicknamed Poppy) words: 1260 warnings: 18+ blog; smut adjacent or the build of it (nothing really graphic depicted), fluff, dieter and poppy being smooshy and very much themselves, reader is non descriptive but goes by the nickname Poppy, I think that’s it notes: god I love these two! I’ve missed them something fierce, so it was nice to revisit them— especially on such an exciting occasion. Thank you all for your endless love for them. It truly makes me giddy that you love them as much as I do!! Another big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for reading over this like she did every single chapter of the series 💕

series masterlist | celebration masterlist

Creativity continues to bloom endlessly with Dieter in your life. In all aspects.

The gallery has been lucrative and busy, far beyond what you had expected when taking it over. Juggling the rotating parts of running over-booked art classes and sourcing new artists to spotlight, all while you’re teaching a rambunctious class of first graders and Dieter gathers scripts for new roles left and right. The chaos of life has you both feeling like two worn passing ships in the rough sea. Each day only allotting enough time for a quick good morning and good night.

When Dieter is away on location and the sun has gone down, you find yourself tucked away in your little home studio late at night. Your phone propped against the window with his handsome face on the screen as he reads over his lines while your paint brush moves aimlessly over the paper.

No amount of distance could sever your need to stay connected to each other.

But it's when the universe seems to align perfectly, nights like tonight, both of your schedules free of duties and obligations, that's when you find yourselves collaborating on a thrilling endeavor.

Your little home studio dimly lit. Candles scattered around the room. Flickering distorted shadows project across the walls. A warm aroma of dusty cedar and woody citrus melds with the musky aura emanating from your steamy bodies.

The wooden tabletop is rigid and uneven beneath you. Layers and layers of color, added since Dieter’s arrival into your life, massage into your back. Each dried nodule of paint, pricks of memories you’ve created alongside Dieter, aid in the pleasurable sensations streaming through you.

“Oh— fuck! Dieter—” The bristles of the new paint brush Dieter had gifted you fan out pressed against your skin, an ample amount of pressure used when Dieter drags it across your hardened nipple. The course hairs of the brush paired with cool wet paint on your overly sensitive peak, has your back arching off the table and your head tilted back, making your enjoyment more evident.

“You look so fucking good like this, Pops.” Dieter muses.

He leans on his arm, supporting his upper body as it hovers over your exposed form. His attention alternates between the languid brush strokes he's creating and your reactions to his touch. The very definition of an eager artist with a newly acquired blank canvas, ready to create a colorful masterpiece.

Dieter’s eyes, brimming with creativity and ardor, study your form like a painter studying his muse. Each ardent stroke he paints onto your skin is an affirmation of his adoration— a testament to the connection you share. His fingers, stained with hues of love and longing, trace the contours of your body, creating a symphony of colors that only you two understand.

His breath hitches as he looks down at you, admiring his work. You. His masterpiece. A silent vow passing between you. The air in the room now rich with the scent of paint and the undercurrent of your shared intimacy.

"Beautiful," Dieter whispers, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the room. His eyes, shadowed yet shining, meet yours as his fingers slide through the drying paint, tracing the path his brush had taken, goosebumps erupting in their wake. Each touch sends an electric thrill coursing through your veins, amplifying the connection between you two.

You remain silent, wearing a faint smile as you look up at him, basking in the way Dieter is so consumed by the moment.

"Ah! Wait!! No!! Stop!!" A fit of giggles infuses the blissful atmosphere as your body jolts and writhes when Dieter touches a hypersensitive spot on your torso.

"What! Are you— Are you laughing?" Dieter's movements halt, taken aback by your sudden burst of laughter.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry— you know how ticklish I am right there. Sorry, I didn’t mean to break the mood.”

"Fuck—I'm sorry. I was so lost in the moment. I didn’t even think— I just wanted this to be perfect for you." Dieter hangs his head, dejected by the ruined moment.

“No! No— Babe, hey— it’s perfect!” You tell him. Your hand sliding up the length of his arm, then reaching up to cup his face, pulling his attention back to you.

Dieter surprised you with dinner at the same restaurant where you had your first date. You both laughed and cried, reminiscing about how far your relationship has come. After exchanging gifts and sharing a passionate kiss, Dieter took your hand and led you to the studio room. A romantic setup awaited you, a room filled with memories of the past few years. This was where you both shared your first 'I love you's, a marriage proposal, and countless hours of artwork and late-night conversations. Each memory etched into every corner of the space.

"Yeah, but you're laughing, not the reaction I was hoping for. I was hoping for some of those sexy little moans you do or even 'Oh Dieter, don't stop keep going you sex machine'. Damn, Poppy. I’m sorry I ruined this whole moment."

"Dieter, stop. First of all, I'm never going to call you a sex machine, no matter how much it turns you on. So you can forget about that fantasy. Secondly, you didn't ruin anything. I'm enjoying myself, completely— I promise."

"Really?"

"Yes, Dieter. You planned this whole special night for me. Plus, you went and got me those paint brushes I've been wanting. And the way you’re using them on me right now— everything is perfect.”

A few months ago, during a visit to a major art supply store in Los Angeles, you mentioned you wanted them. Dieter suggested you get them, but you decided you didn't need a new set right then and chose to wait.

"Not just any brush. They're made from wood too, which makes them extra special. Especially on a day like today." He loved how your face lit up when you opened the gift. You dropped the gift, threw yourself into his arms, and kissed him with endless gratitude.

"How so?" You ask, as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer until he's just a breath away.

"5 years. I looked it up and the 5-year anniversary is wood. I might have not figured that out until after I bought them— but that’s beside the point." He whispers, his lips softly brushing against yours.

"Oh— well, how apropos." You reach down between your bodies, grabbing a handful of Dieter's hard cock straining behind his comfy lounge pants.

Dieter's eyes flutter and his body tenses as you grip him firmly. "Fuck, Poppy!" His voice strained with pleasure.

“Happy Anniversary, Mr. Bravo. I'd appreciate it if you fucked me now."

"Mmmmm— I'd love nothing more than to make love to my wife." He says before his lips slowly mold over yours.

It’s a curated masterpiece. A creation of you both, crafted meticulously in slow unhurried movements and pure euphoria as the hours burn through the night on your fifth wedding anniversary. It becomes more than just mingled breaths and paint on skin, more than just vows reaffirmed five years later. It's persistent love. An ongoing commitment. A strong declaration to your beautiful connection. It's a tangible imprint of your shared moments, silently narrating your story together.

#dieter x poppy #sweet creature celebration #sweet creature series #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #wildemaven writes #pedro pascal #pedrostories

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absolutebl · 2 days

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This Week in BL - All's Quiet on the BL Front

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

May 2024 Wk 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Wandee Godday (Sat YT) ep 3 of 12 - I love how were getting a solid depiction of two queers just genuinely enjoying sex with each other. That’s actually rare in BL. In this case, it manages to also be weirdly adorable and cute.

Dee is such a tease. I guess Y likes a brat?

LOOK at those bedroom eyes!

Linguistics corner: when these two are being serious, sweet, or flirty with each other they use rao/nai which is kind of old fashioned and charming and not common in BL. They move pretty seamlessly into gu/mueng and back depending on the style of convo, tho. It's FUN to hear them talk.

Let the fake relationship commence!

My Stand-In (Thai Fri iQIYI) ep 4 of 12 eps - I HAVE THOUGHTS. I'm really enjoying the sinister backbone of this show. I hope they have the courage of their convictions in that regard and lean into a kind of sexy evil revenge narrative. It was a pleasure to watch the break up and I do not want a redemption arc for Ming or a romance for us. Fuck 'em, let’s just ride a revenge train, okay Joe baby?

That’s said, I totally sniffled at the ending scene where Ming (for two years!) has been paying penance cooking for two and waiting alone. Excellent pathos. Now, I understand how they're gonna make this a full 12 eps. And I’m excited about it. Carry on!

We Are (Weds iQIYI) ep 7 of 16 - I wasn't a fan of Winny & Satang in My School President but I'm loving them in this. The thing with Q, Toey, and Chain had me hooting with laughter. I think I’m finally just easing into the relaxed absurdity of this show. The key is not to expect anything from it. Just them being tiny gay idiots.

Two Worlds (iQIYI) ep 10 fin - Someday I’d like to really enjoy a MaxNat show, but today was not that day. (I feel like ever since Between Us I’ve been generally disenchanted with established OG pairs and what they’re bringing to the table. Perhaps that’s a discussion for another day. Cherry Magic excepted, of course.)

OK, so this final episode, they sure tried to fit a lot in. But that made the pacing better for me. So I kinda liked this weird cliff notes resolution to the story.

In conclusion:

MaxNat do a credible job with a messy script about parallel worlds, gangsters, and strange diseases cured by forest fruits. It sounds confusing because it is. The chemistry is excellent the side pair is entirely forgotten about, and one could drive a Tardis through the plot holes. Still, I found it modestly enjoyable if not at all rewatchable. 7/10

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 6 of 12 - I do love how bold and brash Moo is. He’s truly a great character, such an utter outgoing sunshine puppy focused on his pursuit of his older boy. I'm charmed by his utter harmlessness. They gave us a sweet coming out scene, and an awesome supportive mom. Frankly GMMTV has a good track record with moms. (With a few noted exceptions, of course.)

That said, I do keep forgetting this is a GMMTV offering. It just doesn't FEEL GMMTV. Just me?

OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ????) ep 1 of 10 - Starts tomorrow, will report on sitch next week. LeeFrank are back - not unlike the undead. But how do we feel about it? Unsure given their track record.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

At 25:00 in Akasaka AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - I like it. I like our sulky 2nd lead. He’s pouty, adorable, brash, and adding some much-needed tension to this narrative. The blurring lines between show within a show is a lot of fun. Probably the best I've seen done in BL so far.

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 6 of 10 - I like that we got backstory, but we also sort of already knew it. So this ep felt a bit like filler. They are wonderful when they’re on screen together but when they aren't it's a bit dull. I hope we just get them together for the next 4 eps. But this is Japan, so I doubt it.

Blossom Campus (Korea Thurs Gaga & iQIYI) ep 1 of 6 - The image resolution on this show (via Iqiyi ) is terrible. Meanwhile, awkward crush. Jock nerd pairing. Dorky. Maybe a bit too much awkward/dorky for me? I'm not sold on this one.

Meanwhile the ordering then not eating or drinking of food continues. Very upsetting.

Boys Be Brave (Korea Viki) eps 5-8fin - This show was just never sure what it wanted to be. Slacker sunshine KiSub moves in with nerd JinWoo, mostly because he knows JinWoo likes him but won't confess and that's never happened to him before. It reminded me of some earlier KBLs like Behind Cut, yes is had bones but not much flesh, so it only just hung together and progressed through not very much plot in a jerking rattling fashion like an animated skeleton. All the story and chemistry was with the side couple and none of the screen time. That just annoyed me. What did this BL want to BE? Who tf knows. I, for one, don’t care, and resolve to think no more on it. 6/10

Blue Boys (Korea Sat YouTube) - This ended at 4 eps on a cliffhanger. Since this is a very small studio I don’t have a lot of faith in there being a part two. But they have bundled both this BL, and the GL, bingable chunks on YT. So if you want to binge it, it’s there. Just be aware that it ends on a cliffhanger.

My thoughts?

Promising reunion romances full of class and coming out struggles but I grade with what we got, not on expectations, and you know I HATE a cliffhanger. So yeah, it HAD promise but as of now it gets a 4/10 - fatally flawed. I reserve the right to change my mind if they amend for damages.

It's airing but...

You Made My Day (Thai YT) ep 1 of 5 - mini series staring the I Will Knock You couple Tar & Bom, started but I couldn't find it. I also didn't try very hard.

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

A Balloon's Landing (Taiwan movie) trailer - A frustrated Hong Kong writer, Tian Yu, meets a Taipei street gangster, Xiang (Fandy Fan from HIStory2: Crossing the Line), and the two of them embark on a journey to find the Bay of Vanishing Whales. Along the way, they discover unexpected twists and turns and close bonds, which brings out the message that "there is always someone like you in this world who is waiting for you. This released to cinemas in Taiwan, no word on international release.

In case you missed it

A really really thorough and fascinating article on 2 Moons 2 and what happened.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

May Releases

VBL (Taiwan) is releasing 4 'Special Episode' epilogues to their 4 2023 shows every Friday this month on Gagaoolala, Viki & Viu. Not sure on search terms or how to find these. (Or, frankly, if we need them.)

5/10 – You Are Mine

5/17 – VIP Only

5/24 – Stay By My Side

5/31 – Anti Reset

5/25 The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer - HoTae & DongHee are back but unfortunately not in a cinema near me. Side couple from Unintentional Love Story, same actors, same character names. I love them. I NEED TO SEE THIS.

5/28 My Biker 2 (Thai movie YT?) - trailer

5/30 Knock Knock Boys (Thai Thurs WeTV) - I'm hoping I can get it elsewhere since my WeTV account is inactive, but I do love Best and I'm interested in seeing him in a new pairing. That said, I'm not wild about Seng... so I won't be too cut up if I can't get hold of this. More here.

5/31 The Time of Huannan (Taiwan movie) - May not be BL

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

I'm a sucker for this king of casual claiming. (Only Boo)

It me! (Wandee Goodday)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @sunflower-positiiivity @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

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wosomaanum · 9 hours

Text

Pains | Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: You we’re on day two of your period, and it hurt everywhere. You’re girlfriend, Jessie was there to help.

Warnings: anything to do with periods, medication

Notes: Short

————————

You were wrapped up in bed, clutching your stomach. You felt horrible and just miserable. Not only were you having severe cramps and dealing with your period, but you had a horrible headache.

“Hey babe, I saw this really cool resta-“ your girlfriend, Jessie is soon cut off by her own concern as she enters the room - her speech that trailed along the hallway coming to a halt.

“Baby what’s wrong?” Jess says instinctively, her freckles highlighted by the sun hitting her face - perfectly framing her features. All of which you adored.

“I promise it’s not that bad. I’m fine, really.” You knew you weren’t, and you knew Jessie knew that too.

Jessie cutely grumbled in a soft tone. “I know you’re not. Are you on your period, is it cramps? What do you need me to get you?” A sudden plethora of questions escaped her mouth.

“Jessie I said I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. I’m gonna get you a few things. Just stay here.”

You told her not to bother, but your words fell on deaf ears.

Soon, Jessie returned. A hot water bottle clutched in her arm and some medication and water in the other. She speed walked over to your side and crouched down next to the bed as she examined your face.

“Hey hey. It’s okay I’m here.” She comforts you, as she places the hot water bottle on your stomach. She brushes some loose strands of hair out of your face.

“I’ve got some paracetamol okay? Come on let’s just sit up for a moment.” She gently guides you so your back is against the headboard before she hands you your medication. You drink it, reluctantly - knowing your too stubborn to let others take care of you.

"Here you go, love," she says softly, handing you the medication and water. "This should help a bit.”

You didn’t grow up in a house of affection. You weren’t use to it and it made you feel awkward. You were stubborn, and you knew it but Jessie made you better. Overtime, she made a dent in your stubborn exterior slowly and slowly peeling back the layers. Of course, there was still times you felt like you were a burden but Jessie always reassured you that you weren’t.

The truth is you weren’t.

———————

Throughout the day, Jessie ensures you are as comfortable as possible. She prepares meals that are not only nutritious but also easy on your stomach. Whether it's a bowl of hearty vegetable soup or a plate of fresh fruit, she prioritizes your well-being with every bite.

"How about some soup for lunch?" she suggests. "I made your favorite vegetable soup.

"That sounds perfect," you reply, grateful for her thoughtfulness.

Understanding that rest is crucial, she encourages you to take it easy, often taking over household chores to allow you some much-needed relaxation.

"Why don't you lie down for a bit? I'll handle the laundry," she says, giving you a reassuring smile.

When the pain gets intense, Jessie is there with a stash of your favorite chocolates and a comforting hand. She’ll sit with you, holding your hand, or massaging your lower back when the cramps are unbearable.

"Do you need anything else?" she asks, her eyes full of concern. "Let me know if the cramps get worse."

"Just having you here helps a lot," you admit, squeezing her hand.

In the evenings, Jessie suggests watching your favorite shows or movies, a welcome distraction.

"How about we watch that new comedy series you've been wanting to see?" she offers, dimming the lights and creating a cozy atmosphere. You snuggle up together on the couch, her warmth and care transforming these difficult days into manageable ones.

Jessie’s unwavering support not only eases the physical discomfort but also makes you feel profoundly loved and cared for. "I don't know what I'd do without you," you whisper, snuggled against her.

"You'll never have to find out," she replies, kissing your forehead gently.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #period cramps #period #portland thorns #canada #canwnt #jflem #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader

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quin-ns · 21 hours

Text

The blue V (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for

Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)

Series masterlist + OBX masterlist

JJ was trying to grapple with the fact that you kissing him somehow resulted in an awful night. It should’ve been a dream come true, but then you took it back in an instant.

He made himself at home on Pope’s couch for the next few days following the movie night, not knowing how to face you.

He thought he’d ruined everything when he kissed you that night in your room, but then in the morning, you’d given him some sense of relief. You didn’t hate him, and you were willing to forget about it. It wasn’t exactly what JJ wanted and sure it hurt like hell to agree, but at least he hadn’t lost you entirely.

But then it seemed as if you changed your mind almost immediately, evident by you going out of your way to ignore him at the movie. JJ couldn’t blame you for that, he had a feeling you were only trying to spare his feelings that morning. You were so loving like that, but he should’ve known that you always saw him like a brother—then he wrecked that, like he did with most good things.

JJ resolved to hide out until the movie was over in an attempt to accept his fate, but then you came along… and you kissed him. He was so happy to be wrong, but then you decided you’d made a mistake and decided it couldn’t happen again.

Everything had become such a mess. JJ wished he could blame you, or John B, or someone that wasn’t himself.

JJ wondered where he’d be right now if he hadn’t kissed you that first time, if he hadn’t crossed that line that there was no turning back from.

He couldn’t come up with an exact answer, but he guessed it wouldn’t be on Pope’s couch, pretending to be asleep so he wouldn’t have to get up just yet. He liked to think he’d be with you.

“I know your awake,” his friend said, calling his bluff. JJ reluctantly opened his eyes to find Pope standing over him, looking down with a brow raised. “Maybe I’d be more sympathetic if you told me why you were sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” JJ argued. “I just know you’re gonna make me work.”

Maybe it was a believable enough lie, because Pope snorted.

When things got bad, JJ would usually stay at the Chateau. No adults around to worry about, and John B had the extra space for him—and you, on most occasions. It wasn’t like they weren’t on speaking terms, but JJ knew he overreacted and didn’t feel like apologizing quite yet. Plus, from what Pope mentioned, the other boy was busy anyway.

Or maybe it was just an excuse, he couldn’t know for certain.

He appreciated Pope for letting him stay, even if he’d begun to wear out his welcome. JJ could handle Heyward’s back handed comments, he’d dealt with worse. It was better than being at home, especially without you.

That was another thing he learned from Pope, that you were basically living at Kiara’s. He’d crack a joke about great minds thinking alike if you were around. But you weren’t, and he still blamed himself.

JJ wondered if Pope got the information from you or Kie, but he didn’t let himself ask. It didn’t really matter in the end as long as you were okay, even if you weren’t talking to him.

After he stormed off from the concession building, leaving you behind, he convinced Pope to pack up and head out early, leaving you and Kiara to finish the movie without them.

The entire drive back to Pope’s house, he dodged his friends' questions, and suppressed the urge to run back to you.

He wasn’t used to fighting with you, or even being mad at you, and he hated it. But he held onto that anger, because he knew if he saw you and you asked for forgiveness, he’d break. JJ clung to the stubbornness because it was easier. Even if you weren’t trying to hurt him, you had. It was bad enough feeling like he fucked everything up, but you giving him a taste of reciprocation only to regret it sent his mind in a spiral.

You told him that you couldn’t. Not that you didn’t want to. He reminded himself of that.

So if you did want to, what was so wrong about it? Really? He loved you, and you at least imagined a world where it was possible you could love him back the same way—enough to kiss him, at least. Maybe it only seemed wrong because of the way you two were acting.

You’d never been good at dealing with your feelings. That was something JJ learned the two of you shared.

JJ wondered what you were thinking right now. If it wasn’t for Pope practically dragging him off the couch to get ready for a day of grocery deliveries, JJ could’ve spent the entire day trying to guess what was going on in your head.

JJ wasn’t exactly thrilled that Pope drove them to the Chateau after all the deliveries were taken care of, but he didn’t protest, either.

Truthfully, he did miss hanging out with John B. The two of them had been best friends for what seemed like forever. Even he knew that the building resentment towards his friend didn’t feel right.

When JJ thought about it, like really thought about it, he bet that if he genuinely told John B to forget his feelings for you, his friend would try. He was a good guy like that.

JJ’s only problem was explaining himself, and that’s what kept his mouth shut about the entire thing.

John B didn’t mention it either, just greeted him and suggested the three of them go out on the boat to fish in the marsh.

There was a strange sense of relief JJ felt when John B didn’t apologize, because he wasn’t ready to either. The silent acceptance of one another’s presence was enough for them to get on with things.

It was late afternoon, so they’d be able to fish for a little while. They each had lines cast, sitting scattered along the boat. JJ happened to be on the front of the boat, while John B was on the right and Pope was on the left. They had to keep it balanced enough that it wouldn’t tip.

“He’s not so bad,” John B explained as JJ tuned back in. “He’s just really into his boat.”

Right, John B was talking about work.

“He’s paying you enough, right?” JJ piped up, looking away from his line to his friend. “To have you on call like this?”

“Not exactly ‘on call’, but yeah. Ward’s being fair,” John B explained with a shrug.

JJ smirked to himself as he looked forward. “I still think Ward wouldn’t notice if we borrowed his boat for the night.”

John B scoffed out a laugh.

“He definitely would, JJ, it’s not happening.”

“I’m not spending my summer in jail,” Pope joined in.

John B and JJ exchanged a smile over their shoulders, and everything seemed back to normal.

“We should’ve invited the girls,” Pope said randomly. “Kie would’ve made sandwiches and Y/N always brings her speaker.”

“Kie won’t let us keep anything we catch and Y/N gets bored if we’re stopped too long,” John B countered. He smiled to himself. “If Y/N were here, she’d already be jumping behind the wheel and driving way too fast.”

JJ found himself chuckling, because it was true.

“When she drives it’s like she’s trying to throw us all off,” JJ added fondly. “But we let her anyway.”

“It’s not like you can argue with her,” John B continued. JJ shared a smile with John B at the thought. “She always wins.”

“It’s ’cause you guys let her,” Pope joined in, causing both JJ and John B to turn and look at him. Pope shifted to face them. “What? It’s true. Especially JJ.”

JJ couldn’t argue because it was true, like Pope said.

A curious look appeared on John B’s face.

“You think the girls talk about us when we’re not around?”

The three of them shared a look at John B’s question.

“Probably not,” Pope finally said, turning back to his line. He sounded almost disappointed.

If Pope liked you too JJ might have to jump into the ocean.

John B exchanged a look with JJ before asking, “You good, man?”

JJ swore he noticed the same selfish worry on John B’s face, and it reminded him John B was supposed to be an obstacle.

“You think Kie even notices me?” Pope asked.

JJ felt a weight off his chest. Somehow he’d forgotten about his own suspicions about that. He’d been so caught up in his own self destruction, it was hard to keep track of everyone else.

“We’re all friends, man, of course she does,” John B supplied, but he knew that’s not how Pope meant it.

“Right,” Pope said. He got to his feet, evidently done with trying to catch anything. None of them had been successful yet. “Just forget it,” he decided, reeling in his line. “We have rules for a reason.”

No Pogue on Pogue macking. It was supposed to maintain all of their friendships with one another without anything getting complicated or anyone getting hurt. The more JJ thought about it the lamer it sounded. It was pretty useless now.

No one knew quite how to respond to that, because if John B and JJ told him to ignore the rule, things could get weird. If they told him to follow it, they’d be hypocrites.

As John B got up to go to the wheel after reeling in his line, JJ watched him. He wondered what John B would have to say about it when it came to you.

You were someone worth breaking rules for, JJ knew that all too well.

He tried to smother the sudden wave of jealousy that threatened to overtake him. Him and John B were cool now and he didn’t even have to address the argument. That should’ve been a win in JJ’s book, but he couldn’t help but think about what would happen the next time you all hung out.

It made his stomach turn to think he might have to wait a while for that. He hadn’t seen your face in person in days, hadn’t heard your voice in just as long, and he was going through withdrawals. Photos in his phone of the two of you together only made his heart ache when he looked at them before sleeping. JJ tried to dream of you, but when he woke up he could never remember the details. There was only a familiar pang in his chest that he took to mean he had.

Every time he zoned out, he remembered the kiss. Mostly the second one, where you had kissed him. Where you’d held him and he’d pressed his body to yours.

JJ cleared his throat, face growing flushed at the memory. If you hadn't rejected him, JJ wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to stop at just kissing you that night.

He looked out in the murky water, getting only ripples of his reflection. It looked wrong without you at his side.

Back at the Chateau, they lounged on the porch, now avoiding the topic of you and Kiara. They all did it in a not-so-subtle manner, but no one commented on it either.

JJ was relieved, because the longer he thought about you, the more he started to internally spiral. It didn’t help that John B was right there, sitting on the couch that fueled the fire not too long ago.

He wasn’t even sure you liked John B like that, but JJ still held enough overall doubt to keep him on his toes. He didn’t think you would kiss him either, or that you’d reject him right after. He was finding it harder to read you these days and it got to him.

“There’s gonna be a party on the beach tonight,” John B mentioned once steady conversation began to dry up. “Apparently everyone is going.”

Everyone. That could mean you.

For as far as he’d gone out of his way to avoid you to spare himself, JJ missed you. He wanted to see you. JJ couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone this long without seeing you and it was becoming unbearable. Another part of him wanted to go to get an answer. If he could just talk to you, maybe he could get you to see his side of things. If he couldn’t… JJ didn’t want to think about it at the moment.

“I’m down,” JJ replied, already getting lost in his own mind, trying to formulate what to say to you. It excited him in a strange way as all the outcomes he wanted overtook his brain. He zeroed in on the positives, the ones where he got exactly what he wanted—to be happy with you. “How ‘bout you, Pope?”

“Yeah, sure,” Pope agreed with a nod. “I just gotta stop by my house first.”

Having dinner with Pope’s family was nice, but JJ was itching to get out of his seat the entire time. He should’ve stuck with John B so he could be at the beach party by now, but he couldn’t say no to Pope, and Pope couldn’t say no to his mother.

It was way past sunset when they finally got to the Boneyard, and the party was in full swing. People cluttered the shore, music blasted from a speaker somewhere, kegs were placed about, filling the red solo cups that nearly everyone carried in their hands, and a decently sized bonfire was lighting the entire scene.

The entire car ride, JJ had been preparing himself. He decided he was going to tell you everything. Maybe you had some idea (well obviously, he didn’t kiss you for no reason), but he was going to lay all his cards on the table.

Stupid things had good outcomes all the time, right?

They hadn't so far but he had a lingering bit of hope as he reminded himself you’d kissed him too. You wouldn’t do that for no reason, he was sure of it.

JJ actually felt pretty good when he crossed into the sand.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Pope announced, to which JJ just nodded.

He began to look around, knowing you were here. He had Pope text Kie to make sure. In hindsight it was a little intensive to Pope, but JJ could make it up to him later.

When he found you, you were sitting on a fallen tree trunk that had sunken into the sand since the last big hurricane knocked it down.

Just seeing you took his breath away, you always did. You didn’t seem real to him, he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve you in his life but he would be forever grateful.

And then, from a distance, he heard you laugh. He should’ve had the forethought to look who you were talking to, but JJ had been so distracted by the sight of you after many days without.

One flick of his eyes to the left and he sucked the air back into his lungs.

Right next to you was John B, sitting too close for JJ’s comfort. The two of you were talking and flirting, probably. JJ had eyes, he could see the way his friend was looking at you.

He swallowed, forcing himself to look away.

He didn’t see the point in watching any longer, a sour feeling was already building in his gut. Then, shocking even himself, JJ did something he had a hard time doing all his life.

He walked away.

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, just an ask or reply to lmk 🫶

The blue taglist: @empath-bunny @juniebugg @lashay28 @redhead1180 @mariaeirhnh @wearemadeofstardust0 @obxwatcherficreader @echobx @rafeinterlude @rubixgsworld @niyahnotnia

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #step brother!jj maybank #step brother!!jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #stepbrother!jj maybank #step bro!jj maybank #outer banks #obx #the blue #quin-ns writing

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aziraphales-library · 1 day

Note

Hello! Good morning/afternoon/evening to you! Thank you so so much for all the effort you put in :) here's my ask :

Are there any fics in which A & C are reincarnated over and over again and every single time, they fall in love with each other? Thank you! <3

Hi! We have a #reincarnation tag with loads of fics, so do check that. Here are a few more fics along this theme to add to the collection...

Till the End of Time by bitchofdarkness (G)

In the back, she heard the red-head say in a heated tone:"Adam and Eve? Are you kidding me? Is this some kind of joke to Her?" ------ So basically, I just love reincarnation storys/theories and stuff.

You are my better half by SlyKing (G)

Ezra’s throat suddenly tightened and he wanted to cry, his chest compressed with gratitude. He felt as if he had just found something precious and, met by a gaze as puzzled as was his own, he felt at home. [...] And then, quite naturally, the man reached out to him. "Anthony Crowley." He dropped with a certain detachment which, however, was anything but detachment. - In this Alternative Universe, Aziraphale and Crowley are soulmates; they reincarnate at different times and always find each other. Each part can be read separately.

did you open up your heart there? by weatheredlaw (E)

or were you quiet and afraid? — Aziraphale and Crowley meet over and over and over again. Aziraphale doesn't know what Crowley is, or why their souls can't seem to be parted, but he is a creature of love, and he's not going to argue with that.

Are These Days Forever And Always? by nephiliminality (T)

"Maybe 'our own side' was never really an option. Maybe there's just Heaven, or Hell, or Earth? With- with all that each entails." (In which Crowley and Aziraphale discover that giving up Heaven and Hell means giving up something else as well. But maybe it's not that bad, once you get used to it.) For the Angst Bingo 2020 prompt: "Curse: time loop". I got a bit carried away...

I second that emotion by HolRose (Series) (G-M)

Crowley and Aziraphale are exploring what it might mean to be together. As part of this, they find a way to view a series of very human stories in which couples find their way to love despite the problems and obstacles that life throws at them. On their way to a deeper understanding of just what close, loving relationships look like in humans, they find themselves becoming closer, and nearer to an acceptance of themselves and each other.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #reincarnation #mod d

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chaifootsteps · 2 days

Note

I love Garnet and think she has the second best song in the series (Second, because literally NOTHING touches Other Friends.) but I love Peridot so much more, (my first real exposure to autism rep, actually) so I've had to stand on business and say fuck her ever since It Could Have Been Great.

I liked Garnet a lot more back when Garnet was allowed to have flaws. As the series went on she became this kind of infallible fountain of wisdom and Always Correct Relationship Advice even when her relationship advice was very bad. I remember I used to get people calling me lesbophobic for saying Ruby and Sapphire need to unfuse and do other stuff now and then and was dancing in the streets the day canon vindicated me.

Peridot's the best, just an autistic little gremlin and an inspiration to us all. She's also my birthstone, so there's that.

#Anonymous #steven universe #su #actual blog post

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trickphotography2 · 3 hours

Text

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 19

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 8.8k (sorry, it's a long one)

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 18 | Series Master List | Ao3

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

Chapter 19

Jake's heart pounded, eyes darting around the arrivals area at Tokyo Haneda. The arrivals board had said you'd landed twenty minutes ago, and his anticipation was turning into restlessness. He wished he could text you, check in on how you were feeling, how the flight was, and if you needed anything.

He was looking down at his watch again when the doors slid open. His head jerked up, and he felt a twinge in his neck with a flare of disappointment when it wasn’t you. Grimacing, he rubbed the sore muscles, fingers squeezing the cup of coffee he’d sipped on the train. The hour ride took twice the amount of time as a taxi, but after your reaction to the charges on the credit card bill, he was happy to do that if you wouldn’t fight him on grabbing a car back to base. After all, you’d already been traveling for 19 hours. After a nearly six-hour layover in San Francisco and over 11 hours in the air, it was almost 6:00AM local time. Jake had managed to get an early pass off the carrier to meet you at the airport and had reserved the Navy Lodge starting the night before so you could get off the plane and go right in to relax. You’d already texted him that the upgrade to first class was worth it for the lounge use alone during the layover, and he hoped you’d been able to sleep on the flight. He’d been too anxious to ensure everything was ready to get much sleep and regretted it, fatigue making his eyes heavy. After downing the rest of the coffee, he tossed the empty cup.

The doors opened again, and Jake felt his heart stop. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight than you in leggings and his old sweatshirt stretched across your seven-month pregnant belly. A grin spread across his mouth as he gripped the strap of his backpack and started to push through the crowd, watching as you looked for him. When you spotted him, he saw how your eyes widened and filled with tears as you hurried toward him, waddling a little. The smile that hid your wobbling lower lip.

And then, in an instant, you were there, standing before him. Without a moment's hesitation, he enveloped you in his arms. His lips found the crown of your head, and he felt his heart surge with love at the sensation of your stomach against his. “Hey, darlin’,” Jake whispered, his voice husky with emotion. Unable to speak around the lump in your throat, you held him tightly - or as tightly as you could, between your stomach and breasts pressing against him and forcing you apart.

Pulling away slightly, you tilted your head up and smiled at your husband, eyes blurry with tears. His lips met yours, and you could feel him grinning as one of his hands spanned your lower back while the other slid to touch your stomach. When you broke apart to breathe, you pushed onto your toes to chase his lips, trusting that he would keep you steady. Jake chuckled, kissing you again before resting his forehead against yours and wiping away the tears from your cheeks. “Missed you,” he said softly.

“I missed you more,” you replied. Shaking his head, he gently broke your hold on him.

“Not possible,” he said, sinking to one knee. You felt a flush rise as he leaned closer and kissed your middle. “Hey, Sloane-girl, it’s your daddy. Were you good for Mama on the plane?” Your hand went to his shoulder, holding tightly to his backpack strap as he leaned against you.

“You’re gonna make me ugly cry in public, Seresin.” Your tone was teasing, but he could hear the barely concealed tears in your voice. Chuckling, he kissed Sloane again before springing to his feet and tugging you into his arms.

“Can’t have that, Mama,” he replied. “We need to get your bag?”

“Nope, traveled light. Or a light as you can when you’re huge.”

“Darlin’.”

“Just have my carry-ons,” you plowed through, ignoring his stern tone. His hold tightened, and he pressed kisses into your hair. You weren’t the only one that had gotten bigger over the deployment. While he’d always been fit, you could tell he’d put on more muscle, and his stomach was firmer against your own. To put it plainly, your husband was hot as hell. And if you noticed the differences in his appearance, he was surely noticing your own.

Of course, you’d sent him pictures throughout your pregnancy, so it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen your body's changes. But those pictures were carefully curated to be flattering. The weekly picture he requested of your bump was only taken after you’d gotten ready for work, hiding the worst of the stretchmarks on your stomach and breasts. Makeup concealed the bags under your eyes after sleepless nights pacing the house. It was almost comical to think about how self-conscious you’d been about your tiny bump that Jake had watched grow, given that Sloane had more than doubled in size since last seeing him.

After three and a half months apart, you wanted to look your best for your husband. But instead of taking the time to do that, you’d only brushed your hair and teeth on the airplane, forgoing any makeup, and hurried through customs instead of stopping in the bathroom to freshen up. And you felt like crap and were exhausted after traveling for almost a day. The flight attendants were great, ensuring you had everything you needed. Your first-class seat was converted into a bed, but it wasn’t comfortable. The pillows you shoved under your belly while lying on your side hadn’t helped, as they were too flat. One of the flight attendants had rolled up blankets and suggested using those as a wedge under your stomach, which had helped some. But, per Dr. Shearer’s orders, you’d gotten up every hour to walk around to avoid blood clots and had to rearrange the blankets when you got back into bed. Sloane had also been restless, pressing on your bladder after you forced yourself to drink a lot of water to stay hydrated.

Jake’s palms lifted to cup your face, leaning down to brush his lips to yours. “You look gorgeous. You always do, but now? Christ, darlin’.” His thumb traced your trembling bottom lip. His soft smile nearly broke you, and you tried to quiet your internal monologue, listing all the faults in your appearance. “Ready to get outta here?”

“I should probably hit the restroom before we go,” you sighed, placing a hand on your stomach. Jake nodded, leaning down to kiss you before gently batting your hand away as you reached for your suitcase handle. His free hand took yours, raising it to brush his lips to your knuckles.

Jake waited for you outside the bathroom, and you quickly did your business and studied your reflection in the mirror while washing your hands. The bags under your eyes were slightly less prominent with the excited flush in your cheeks. After drying your hands, you smoothed them over your stomach and took a deep breath. You felt a flutter in your belly and pressed against Sloane, “Ready to go see Daddy?” you said quietly.

Green eyes met yours when you stepped out of the restroom, and Jake extended his hand. Drawing you in, he grinned against your mouth. “Can’t believe you’re really here,” he murmured. When his kisses bordered on indecent, you laughed and gently pushed him away.

“Remember we’re in public, Lieutenant,” you gently chided, tapping his nose. He smirked, leaning forward to whisper in your ear.

“Good thing we’ve got a hotel to go back to. Realized a few weeks ago that I can’t remember how you taste, which is unacceptable,” he drawled. Your breath caught at his whiskey voice, feeling heat flood your face as a different type of fluttering occurred in your stomach. Trailing his lips along your cheek, he pecked your lips and pulled away. A teasing smolder lit his green eyes as they ran the length of you, lingering on your belly and breasts before rising to meet your own. “Ready to go?” his voice was husky, and his grip on your suitcase tightened. Rather than answer, you held out a hand, feeling his fingers slide between your own.

The taxi slowed as they neared the gate, and Jake was glad he’d asked for your ID as soon as you got into the car. The moment it had started moving, you’d leaned your head against his shoulder and fallen asleep. After wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tucking you close, he’d rested his head against yours and closed his eyes, his free hand on your belly. He couldn’t get enough of touching you and wanted more than anything to feel his daughter move.

After the MP checked both IDs, the car pulled away from the guard shack. Jake kept his eyes open, blinking in the weak early morning sun. A tired smile tugged at his mouth when he looked down at you, and he gently ran his thumb under your eyes. You’d mentioned having trouble sleeping, but now he could see how tired you were.

Your brow furrowed as the car turned into the Navy Lodge parking lot, and Jake chuckled. “Alright, sleepy girl,” he said softly, pressing kisses into your hair. “We’re here. Let’s go get our keys and go to bed, alright?” You groaned, nuzzling closer to him, and he chuckled again, meeting the taxi driver’s gaze in the mirror. The man quickly looked away as he pulled up to the hotel and got out to get the bags from the trunk. “C’mon, darlin’. Gotta open those pretty eyes for me.” After undoing his seat belt, he reached over you and unclipped yours, holding the belt away from your body when you let out a disgruntled little sigh, eyes slowly blinking open. “There’s my girl,” Jake cooed. “Let’s go get more comfortable, Mama.”

You smiled sleepily, and Jake couldn’t resist kissing you. “Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” he smiled. He held out his hands to help you from the car and grabbed all the bags when you reached for them. When you commented on taking your things, he shook his head. “You’re on vacation. Besides, you’re already carryin’ the most important thing.” He handled check-in while you relaxed on the couch and watched the bags, kneading the muscles in your lower back. “They’ve got breakfast if you want me to grab you something,” Jake said when he appeared at your side.

“I’m fine for now, but we’ll want to grab some stuff for the room later,” you sighed, mentally preparing to push to your feet.

“There’s a store across the parking lot, and the NEX and commissary are about a 10-minute drive, but the taxis are close.” Nodding, you scooted to the edge of the couch and braced your hands on your knees. When you stood, you noticed your husband was grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he replied before handing you the room keys and swinging his backpack over his shoulder. The room was on the second floor, and Jake made sure he was behind you as you climbed the stairs, one hand resting on your lower back. While you internally rolled your eyes at his overprotectiveness, you didn’t say anything to discourage him. It felt nice to have his hands on you again.

The room was decent-sized, with a small kitchenette and two queen beds. The window faced Tokyo Bay, and you could see a few small boats bobbing in the morning tide. After tossing the bags onto the extra bed, Jake stood behind you as you gazed out the window, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. His lips grazed your temple as his palms rested on either side of your stomach. “I saw something and wanted to try it,” he said softly.

“A sexy something?” you asked, rolling your head onto his shoulder when his lips trailed down your throat.

“Not exactly.” His hands moved further down your body to curl around the hem of your sweater and drew it up. You grumbled a little when he encouraged your arms up so he could take it off. His attention turned to your leggings, and he rolled the waist down before tugging up your shirt so it was tucked under your breasts. Jake’s calloused palms slid down your stomach, and he knit his fingers together underneath your bump. His arms caged you in as he raised his hands, lifting Sloane. The relief was immediate, and you sagged back against him, letting out a moan as the weight disappeared and the tension left your back. Jake laughed, and you felt tears spring to your eyes. “That good?”

“So good,” you breathed, swallowing hard when he kissed your cheek.

“You alright, Mama?” he asked, concern lacing his voice when he saw the tears on your cheeks. “Does it hurt?” He started to lower your belly, but you quickly closed your hands over his.

“Don’t you dare,” you breathed, loving the brief reprieve from the extra weight on your front and the feeling of his arms around you. “I just missed you.” Jake whispered your name, lifting Sloane again as he gently nudged you with his nose until your lips found his.

“Miss you all the time,” he said softly against your mouth. You deepened the kiss, curling a hand around the back of his neck.

And then Jake froze, eyes opening and meeting yours in wide-eyed awe. “Was that…” he asked.

“Your daughter moving?” you nodded, feeling Sloane wiggle. Slowly, he lowered your belly - you bit back a groan at the weight now tugging you forward - and turned you around. His hands returned to your stomach, and he frowned when he felt nothing with his light touch. “Here,” you said, guiding his hand and pressing a bit harder.

“I don’t feel anything,” he sighed after a long minute.

“I don’t either. She might be sleeping. What time is it at home?” Jake glanced at his watch and did the mental calculations to account for the 16-hour time difference.

“About 3:00 PM yesterday.”

“Give it a couple of hours,” you assured him. “She’s usually active around the time I get off work.”

“You sure it’s not just that she doesn’t like me?” While his tone was joking, you could hear an undercurrent of worry in Jake’s words. “I’m just some stranger tryin’ to feel her, after all.”

Sighing, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, purposefully pressing your stomachs together. Resting your forehead against his, you guided his hand back to your belly. “You’re not a stranger. She goes crazy when we’re on the phone or a video call and she hears your voice. And she loves it when I’m on the flight line, and the jets are taking off or landing, just like her daddy. It’s just been a long day, and we’re both tired. But I promise you, your daughter loves you.”

Jake’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I’m missing everything, darlin’. I hate that I - ” You cut him off with a kiss, his hands shifting to your hips when you rose onto your toes. The movement pushed you off-balance and forced him to take some of your weight, but you didn’t care - you trusted him enough to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt.

“I hate that you’re missing it too,” you panted against his mouth. “But at least we have this week, alright? I don’t want to spend it being sad.” Jake nodded, chasing your kiss when you landed on your feet. Gently pushing him away, you gripped your shirt and tugged it over your head, dropping it onto your discarded sweater. “Now, I’m gonna jump in the shower because I feel gross. Do you want to join me?” Forcing his gaze from your breasts, which were so much bigger than the last time he’d seen you, Jake nodded. “Good. Would you mind getting my toiletries for me?” When he nodded again, you smiled and moved past him, undoing the clasp of your bra and tossing it onto the bed.

Careful to set the water to a reasonable temperature, you did your business and stepped under the spray, tilting your head back and letting out a soft groan. You were so sore. Even with the compression socks Dr. Shearer had recommended, your legs and ankles were swollen to the point of seeing the indents in your skin. Your hips and back hurt from trying to sleep on the plane. Your shoulders from wearing a bra for almost a day. On days like this, you wished you could enjoy an extra hot shower to soothe your tense muscles. Letting the water wash over your face, you rubbed your shoulders and rolled your neck.

The curtain pulled back, and you glanced over your shoulder to see Jake stepping into the shower, toiletries in one hand. Taking a deep breath, you turned, holding out your hands for your things. Your face flushed when his eyes widened, taking in your naked body - stretch marks, swelling, and all. Forcing yourself not to cover up, you plucked the travel bottles from his hand and turned away to place them on the shelf.

You felt him move closer, and then his hands on your hips encouraged you to face him. Jake licked his lips and smirked, drawing you from the shower spray and switching spots. He faced you as he tilted his head back into the water, arms bulging as he lifted his hands to scrub through his hair. Heat pooled low in your stomach as your eyes followed the water running down his chest and abs, the lines of his Adonis belt. His cock, hardening under your gaze.

Your mouth watered at the sight of your naked husband, and his cocky grin let you know that he knew what he was doing. Jake reached for you again, maneuvering you under the spray. “Sorry, darlin’, I’ll stay outta your way,” he drawled. His eyes focused on your breasts and belly as he loosely gripped his dick and lazily stroked. You shifted, trying to ease some of the pressure between your legs. Biting your bottom lip, you forced yourself to turn away from him - as much as you wanted to fuck him, you needed to clean up first. “‘M surprised you didn’t make the water hotter. Usually have it scalding.”

“I’m not allowed,” you sighed, rolling your shoulders to try and loosen some of the tension. “Can’t have any temperature too hot. I hate it.” Jake moved closer to press himself against you. His big hands went to your shoulders, rubbing gently before his thumbs pressed harder at the base of your neck. You groaned, letting your head fall forward and eyes close.

“Good?” His touch tiptoed the line between pain and pleasure, and you could only hum a response. Bracing a hand on the wall before you, you closed your eyes and pressed back into your husband’s touch. Too soon, his hands trailed down your spine, knuckles stroking lightly until he reached your lower back. He pushed hard, massaging the muscles of your back and hips, and you couldn't keep the loud moan from escaping. Jake chuckled. You struggled to keep your eyes open between his magical hands, the lukewarm water, and exhaustion. After a few minutes, you felt his palms slide around your hips and glide up your belly as he moved closer, gently pulling you upright. His breath was steady on your ear as he slowly explored your new shape, fingers tracing the reddened stretch marks and the dark line below your flattening belly button. You could feel his cock against your ass and shifted as his attention drifted upward to cup your breasts, arousal simmering in your veins. “This alright?” he asked, mouth pressed against your throat as he ran his thumbs over your sensitive nipples. Unable to speak, you nodded, reaching back to touch him. One hand trailed down your body, fingers dancing over your stomach to cup your core. “How ‘bout this?” You let out a shaky breath, widening your stance to allow him better access. “That’s my girl,” he rasped, parting your lower lips. “Wanna taste you so bad, darlin’, but I can wait. Wanna feel you cum on my cock, but I think I’ll settle for you on my hand for now. Gotta be more careful, now, darlin’.”

“J-Jake,” you stuttered as he sank a finger into you. Your head fell back against his shoulder, hand curling around the back of his neck to play with his wet hair. His hand left your breast to curve around your jaw, tilting your face closer so he could kiss you. His lips were rough, tongue plundering. He swallowed your gasp as he added a second finger, his thumb finding your clit with ease.

“So fuckin’ tight.”

“Fuck me,” you pleaded. “Want your - ” He curled his fingers to pet your g-spot, cutting you off with a choked gasp.

“Gotta work up to that, darlin’,” he chuckled. “Been neglecting my pretty pussy for too long. You been using the toy I bought you?” Unable to speak, you nodded. “Good. Read somethin’ about pregnancy hormones makin’ mamas hornier than usual, and wouldn’t want you to go without.”

“You read a lot about pregnancy hormones?” you asked, then whined when he withdrew his fingers. Your hand shot down to cover his when he pulled away.

“Don’t worry, darlin’ - not gonna leave my girl hangin’.” Instead, he tugged you away from the spray and backed you against the shower wall. The tile was cold against your heated skin, and you tried to move forward, but Jake boxed you in. With one hand by your head, his other went back between your legs. His mouth covered yours, panting as you grasped his cock. He thrust into your hand, synchronizing with his fingers in your pussy. You ground down on his hand as he trailed kisses down your throat, licking the water from your tits before sucking on your nipple.

The sensation set you off, and you clapped a hand over your mouth as your moans echoed in the bathroom. Jake continued his ministrations as you came, fingers pumping as he switched to your other breast. When it became too much, you tugged him up and kissed him, feeling his grin against your mouth. He pulled away only long enough to lick his fingers clean before he kissed you again, allowing you to taste yourself.

You could feel his dick twitch against your thigh and reached for him, but he caught your hand, shaking his head, “Not yet, sweetheart.” Ignoring your whine, he led you back under the shower spray. His hands were gentle as he washed your hair, massaging your scalp and trading lazy kisses. You held onto his shoulders when he went to his knees to wash your legs, kneading your calves and tracing the lines the compression socks had imprinted on your skin. Once satisfied that you were taken care of, Jake quickly washed himself, eyes alight with teasing as he watched you watching him.

Your patience snapped as he dried you off, and you snatched the towel from his hands and threw it onto the floor. Tugging him back into the bedroom, you perched on the edge of the bed and reached for him. Jake grinned, lowering you onto the mattress as he kissed you. But then you grimaced. “Shit,” he hissed, pulling back quickly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said, bracing your hand on the bed. “Just kinda uncomfortable being on my back.” Glancing over at the other bed, you pointed. “Grab me one of those pillows.” Jake scrambled to get it as you sat up and moved toward the head of the bed. When he extended the pillow, you took it and positioned it under your hips, wiggling as you laid back down. “Much better.”

“You sure?” He still looked skeptical as you reached for him and nodded.

“Positive. Unless…” You tried to push down the wave of self-consciousness as he watched you. “Unless you don’t want to?” Jake sighed, crawling across the bed to hover over you, ensuring he kept most of his weight off you.

“Mama,” he breathed, leaning down to nip at your lips. “I’ve dreamed about this.”

“How’s reality stacking up?” You sighed when he ran his cock along your entrance, gasping when he tapped it against your clit.

“So, so much better.” His mouth covered yours, swallowing your moans as he slowly pressed in, inch by glorious inch. Jake’s arms shook by your head when he bottomed out, his breath stuttering as you squeezed him. “Fuck, darlin’, feel so fuckin’ good.” You had to stretch to kiss him, curling a leg over his hips to encourage him to move.

“Please,” you panted. “Jake, I need - ”

“I’ve gotcha, honey.” Setting a languid pace, bracing himself on an elbow, he reached between you and circled your clit. The extra pressure on your stomach made your back twinge, but you ignored it as your husband played with you, trailing his lips along your neck and shoulders, peppering your face with kisses. Too soon, you came, clenching around him as his rhythm stuttered. He grunted your name against your throat, pausing until you lifted your hips to encourage him to keep going.

Sitting back on his heels, Jake looked down at you before his eyes fixed on where you were joined. His hips started to move again, and you scrambled to grasp the sheets as he thumbed your clit. “Can’t,” you gasped.

“Yes, you can, pretty girl,” he growled, angling so every thrust hit just right. “Just one more for me, darlin’.” The combination of his fingers and cock was deadly, but when his eyes finally met yours, you couldn’t hold back. Jake hurriedly leaned down to cover you as you shook, kissing you hard as he finally came.

You stayed like that, trading tired kisses until lying on your back became too uncomfortable. Jake slipped out of bed to retrieve a washcloth as you curled on your side. After he cleaned you up, he handed you pillows to put under your stomach before sliding into bed behind you. His fingers twined with yours, wedding rings sliding against one another before he rested your hands against your belly. “Just gonna nap,” you promised, pressing back against him and feeling his nod. “Need to get on the time zone.”

“Just a nap,” he agreed, lips grazing your shoulder. “So happy you’re here, Mama.”

“Me too, Daddy,” you yawned.

The day flew by too quickly. As much as you wanted nothing more than to spend it in bed with your husband, you eventually forced yourself to leave the hotel. Together, you explored Yokoska, your husband indulging you as you browsed 100 yen and stationery stores, listening to your reminiscing about buying gel pens and trading Hello Kitty and Bad Batz-Maru paper over lunch in elementary school. When you pulled him into candy stores, he said nothing and helped fill a basket with your childhood favorites. When you squealed in delight at finding a vending machine selling a grape drink you remembered loving as a kid, Jake couldn’t help but laugh while digging out the yen to get it for you. He wasn’t a fan of the little pieces of white grape in it and chose to finish the melon soda you’d already opened instead.

Jake quickly got a taxi and returned to the base at the first sign of you getting tired. While you napped at his insistence, he walked to the store to pick up a few things for the room. You woke to the sound of him loading water bottles into the refrigerator and shoving snacks into the cabinets. When he joined you in bed, lying on top of the covers, his hands went unerringly to your stomach. “Hey,” you whispered, covering his hand with yours.

“Hey,” he replied, kissing the back of your neck. “How was your nap?”

“Would have been better with you. I hate that I’m so tired.”

“I figured you would be. You had a long day.”

“I don’t like wasting our time.”

“Not wastin’ it if you’re relaxing.” Sighing, you rolled to face him, raising an eyebrow. He chuckled, leaning forward to kiss you. “We don’t have to do anything while you’re here. I’ll cancel all the plans, and we can stay like this the whole time.”

“You want to spend your first time off the ship in months just staying in this room?”

“If that’s what you want, definitely. Just wanna take care of you, Mama. You and Sloane.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed onto an elbow. “Spending our whole trip in bed sounds like fun, but I need some stories to tell people when I get home.”

“We can make those up,” he teased, looking up at you as his hand rested on your hip, fingers bunching in the bedding. Shaking your head, you kissed him, tongue teasing the seam of his lips until he opened for you.

It didn’t take long for your clothes to land on the floor, Jake’s hands roaming your body as you rode him.

Rooster and Mav met you in the lobby of the Lodge the following day, and you tried not to blush when they inevitably made comments about how big you were and congratulated you on having a little girl. Jake’s arm was around your waist, his fingers lightly resting on your stomach. Together, the four of you took the hour train into Tokyo, and the three aviators caught you up on their deployment while you shared what was happening in Lemoore.

The city was much bigger and busier than you remembered as a kid. It was a change from your sleepy California home, and you felt a slight pang of longing for city life that was quickly stifled when you looked at your husband. Sure, you’d always imagined living in a bustling city, but if you hadn’t accepted the promotion and transferred to Lemoore, you wouldn’t have found Jake. As if sensing your thoughts, his hand squeezed yours, and he smiled down at you as you browsed a store. “Love you,” you said softly, disentangling your fingers and guiding his hand to where you could feel your daughter moving. Jake’s eyes lit up, turning to face you as he felt the subtle movement beneath your skin.

While you felt you were slowing the men down, they didn’t say anything when you had to find a place to sit or a restroom. Together, you visited temples and gardens before venturing into Harajuku. The shopping district was crowded, and you were happy to lean against your husband as he lifted your belly, feeding him bits of a crepe over your shoulder while Mav and Rooster looked for souvenirs. Excited by the sugary treat but unhappy with the intrusion on her space, Sloane squirmed in her father’s hands.

Jake didn’t have liberty on Wednesday and had to be back on the carrier by midnight, so you left Tokyo in the early afternoon and boarded the train back to Yokosuka. The gentle shaking lulled you into a trance, and Jake guided your head onto his shoulder as his arm went around you, encouraging you to sleep. He forced himself to focus on the conversation Rooster and Mav were having as your hand rested high on his inner thigh, your wrist brushing his throbbing cock with every sway of the train. Later, after a dinner on base and a quick shower, he massaged your swollen legs and sore feet before curling up behind you. His hand went around your mouth as he fucked you so sweetly and deeply that you couldn’t help the loud noises you made. After, he touched your stomach, simultaneously fascinated and terrified when you had Braxton-Hicks contractions. At your final check-up before the trip, Dr. Shearer had made sure you knew the difference between them and active labor and when to head to the hospital, a knowing look in her eyes.

Reluctantly, as midnight neared, Jake crawled out of bed and took a quick shower. You could see the concern in his eyes when he caught you shifting from the cramps as he dressed and made you swear to call him if you needed anything. He tucked you into bed, ensuring the pillows were positioned just right, before kissing you and Sloane goodnight. With one final check that your purse sat on the stack of medical records you’d brought ‘just in case’ to make both your doctor and husband happy, he left.

Mav and Rooster had invited you for another outing to Tokyo the next day, but you declined. A lazy day hanging around the base sounded like heaven. It was a cool day with rain threatening, but you didn’t mind. You debated going to see a movie but found the theater was closed. Instead, you took a taxi to Kosano Park and looked out at the bay, munching on McDonald’s fries before walking to the NEX. Being on base brought back memories of living overseas as a kid, and you felt a pang of regret that your daughter wouldn’t have the same experience. She would never dread shopping for school clothes on base, sure that everyone would wear the same thing, or experience the month-long trips back to the States where you would spend days shopping. With that thought, you walked next door to the commissary to pick up some stuff for the room and a few things for Jake to bring back onto the ship. It felt so nice to be shopping for both of you again that you had to pause in the chip aisle and take a few breaths when tears threatened to overwhelm you.

You were propped up in bed, eating yogurt-covered pretzels and sipping on a water bottle, watching a sitcom when the door opened just after midnight. Jake smiled tiredly, an eyebrow raised at the sight of you eating in bed before shaking his head and dropping his bag to lie beside you, his head in your lap. While running your fingers through his hair, he told you about the admin work he’d been doing all day while you caught him up on your activities. His nose brushed your stomach before he tugged down the blanket and pushed up your shirt to kiss your skin. You shifted, flushing at his hot breath so close to where you wanted him. Jake looked up at you and raised an eyebrow again.

“They weren’t kidding about pregnancy hormones,” he panted, holding onto your hips as your fingers curled into the sheets of the spare bed that he’d had bent you over. It had taken some convincing and swearing that you hadn’t had any actual contractions at all and a quick chat about orgasms causing Braxton-Hicks for him to agree to touch you. Unsatisfied by his hand, you’d gotten out of bed and stripped, reminding him that you owed him a video for being right about having a girl. His legs had gotten tangled in the sheets, and he nearly fell to the floor while grabbing his phone while you laughed. But that laugh had died on your lips as he cooed about how sexy you were, a hand between your shoulders gently pressing you down, setting a hard and fast pace. You whined as he pinched your clit, leaning forward to hiss and get a shot of your fucked out expression on camera. “Don’t think I forgot about our agreement of no crumbs in bed.”

To make it up to him, you woke him up the next morning, slowly pulling down the blankets to stroke his cock and, once he was awake, kneeling on the floor between his spread thighs and blowing him.

Jake surprised you with dinner reservations for Thanksgiving the next day at the Officer’s Club. To kill time, you took the ferry to Sarushima Island and explored the fortified pathways and old bunkers. The ocean was cool when you walked along the shore, feeling the coral sand between your toes, thinking about the last time you’d walked along the beach together in San Diego and picking out baby names.

“If we have a boy later, what do you think about still using the name Oliver James?” you asked. Jake stopped walking, eyebrows high over his sunglasses as he smirked.

“Already thinkin’ about having another one?” he teased, stepping before you to tug you into his arms.

“I mean,” you shrugged, looping your arms around his neck. “We’ll see how it goes when this one makes her appearance. Maybe she’ll traumatize us to the point where we never want to touch -”

“Don’t talk about my little girl like that,” Jake playfully chided, lightly smacking your ass before leaning down to kiss you. “Besides, it’d take a whole hell of a lot for me to never wanna touch you.”

Rooster and Mav joined you at dinner, sharing stories about their trip to Yokohama. It was fun to hear them trade stories about the deployment and to hear Rooster’s perspective of what Jake was like at their first base. When Jake and Rooster went up to get second helpings, you were able to chat with Mav for a minute and ask how your husband was doing. The older man glanced over his shoulder at the younger aviators before reaching for your hand and squeezing it.

“It’s hard,” he admitted, “especially when his parents…” You felt goosebumps rise at the mention of your in-laws. Taking Jake’s lead, you hadn’t outreached Sarah once they left the house. After a challenging conversation with Lina where she’d accused you of lying about her father’s behavior, you hadn’t spoken again. Jake mentioned his sister was angry with him, but he didn’t care. You knew she was still following you on social media so the Seresins would be informed about your trip and see the pictures you posted. “But he’s okay.”

On Jake’s last day of liberty, you reluctantly agreed to take the 40-minute train to Enoshima. As pretty as the shrines and sea caves were, you wanted nothing more than to be closed up in your hotel room with your husband. He paid the fees to take the escalators up the tree-topped hills so you could admire the views of the Pacific Ocean and distant Mt. Fuji. It was a surprise to see a fence decorated with padlocks, and after using an app to translate the signs, you realized you were at a place called Lover’s Hill. A bell hung in a little stand, the placard stating that if a couple rang it, they would be together forever. You set your phone up on the provided photo stand, snapping a picture of the two of you tugging the bellrope with Sagami Bay glistening behind you. When Jake went into a small store to grab you a melon soda and water, he returned with a lock and sharpie. He wrote your names on it before taking your hand, leading you back to the fence, and pointing out a spot for you to lock it.

At the Navy Lodge, Jake tried to encourage you to pack your suitcase, but you refused. He was due back on the carrier at midnight again, and you didn’t want to spend a minute of that precious time thinking about flying back home the next day. Still, tears gathered in your eyes as he started to clear out the kitchenette, putting your candy in a pile while shoving the snacks into a plastic bag for him to take back to the carrier. You watched him from the bed, biting your lip to keep from sobbing. When he turned to offer you a bottle of cold water, he sighed your name.

The clock was your enemy as Jake undressed you, his lips caressing every inch of skin he uncovered. With a pillow under your hips, he guided you to lay down as he kissed and licked his way down to the cradle of your thighs. Deliberate and slow, he brought you to the very precipice of pleasure before backing off, savoring your taste and whimpering moans. Again and again, your husband toyed with you until you had to switch positions when you started to hurt. It took some convincing for you to straddle his face, clinging to the headboard for balance, but Jake’s soft pleading and cajoling eventually had you grinding against his mouth as his fingers dug into your thighs.

Dinner was a quick affair - burgers that Jake ran across the parking lot to grab from a chain restaurant while you begrudgingly checked into your flight and started to pack. Trying to keep the mood light, he joked that he was happy to finally cross off a french fry run off his Daddy Bucket List, and you quickly ducked into the bathroom to hide your tears. You turned on the sink tap to hide your sniffles, but Jake was waiting outside the bathroom and folded you into his arms when you opened the door. “‘M sorry, darlin’,” he whispered against your hair.

As much as you wanted to focus on enjoying those last few hours together, Jake pulled you onto the bed and handed you a stack of printed papers. Standing before you, he ran a hand through his hair as you flipped through them. He explained that he needed to update his base dream sheet in case he got orders soon and wanted to discuss them with you. Though his tone was even, you could detect an undercurrent of anxiety in his words, and you looked up at him. “So, what do you think the timeline is?” you asked.

“I dunno. I just… have this gut feeling that it’s gonna be within the next year.”

You sighed and set the papers beside you, threading your fingers through his belt loops and tugging him closer. Resting your chin against his flat stomach, you looked up at him, “As long as it’s not within the next five months, it’ll be fine. I really don’t want to deal with a PCS with a newborn.”

“You’d be okay with leaving your job?” he asked tentatively, tracing the curve of your cheek. Frowning, you pulled away from his touch.

“Are you saying you want me to stay in Lemoore?” you asked, a hint of hurt coloring your voice.

“No! No, of course not,” Jake quickly answered. “I just… Are you going to be okay if we move?” Heaving a sigh, you grabbed his left hand and tapped on his wedding ring.

“I knew that was part of the deal when we married, babe. Do I want to leave my job? No. I like the work and the people I work with. But I love you, and - for now - your career is going to be the one that makes decisions for our family.” Jake swallowed hard before burying his free hand in your hair and tugging gently so your head tipped back. His mouth covered yours, nipping at your lips as he tried to lower you onto the bed. But you braced your palm on the mattress and resisted, chuckling against his lips when he grunted. Shaking your head, you reached for his jeans, quickly undoing the button and dragging down the zipper.

Leaning against the headboard, Jake whimpered as you sank down onto his cock, hands clasped around your hips. He could feel you clench around him and let his head fall back, grunting when you refused to move. “Darlin’,” he pleaded.

“Nope, not until we get this dream sheet filled out,” you breathed, fighting your own urge to move. Instead, you grabbed the discarded pile of papers and a pen from your purse. Resting them against his shoulder, you started to read off the bases he’d put as his top choices back when he was single. Jake found it hard to concentrate as you debated the merits of each base. But as much as you pretended you weren’t affected, he could see the pulse fluttering in your throat and feel you clench around him when his hands roamed your thighs and ass. When his hands ventured higher to cup your breasts, your head lolled back as he ran his thumbs along your tender nipples. “Back on task, Seresin,” you panted.

“‘M a great multitasker,” he promised. You laughed, and he groaned as you rocked against him, hips lifting to thrust into you. But you shook your head, setting the papers on the bed and covering his hands with your own. The movement made him moan, and you chuckled, lifting his hands and guiding them to curl around the top of the headboard.

“You’re the one who decided to wait until the last minute to have this conversation, Lieutenant. Now, don’t move those hands until I say so.” It was torture, he decided, trying to talk about your future as you warmed him, squeezing him anytime you felt he wasn’t paying attention. Most of the time, he loved how thorough and logical you were, but at that moment, he would have been happy with whatever random base the Navy decided to send him to. Finally, Jake felt the pen drag across his skin when you propped the papers on his chest to write the new ranking - Lemoore at the top with San Diego after, but including a few bases in Florida and even leaving Iwakuni, Japan on the list.

His head fell back, and he swallowed hard when you leaned to place the papers and pen on the nightstand. Chuckling, you licked his Adam’s apple while taking his hands from the headboard. But when you guided them back to your breasts, he shook his head, a sly smirk crossing his mouth. “Had your chance, darlin’,” he murmured, shaking off your hold and resting his hands on your knees that bracketed his hips. His calloused palms glided up your thighs, one circling your hip while the other slid between your legs. Jake pressed his thumb to your clit but didn’t move. “Now you’re gonna have to work for it.”

The unspoken order was clear, and you pouted. “You’d make you poor, tired, pregnant wife - ”

“Absolutely,” he cut you off. “Especially when she’s being a tease. You wanna come, you’re gonna work for it.”

“On our last night together?” Jake nearly caved when you leaned forward to kiss him. Your words reminded him that he only had hours left until he wouldn’t see you again for two and a half months. But when you smirked against his mouth when he circled your clit, his resolve firmed. Pulling away, he leaned against the headboard while landing a loud slap to your ass. You jolted, clenching around him, and he groaned.

“Clock’s tickin’, Mama,” he managed to say, looking down his nose at you. You sighed, rising onto your knees and sinking down onto his cock. You both moaned, and Jake’s free hand returned to the top of the headboard as he fought the urge to help you. The only help Jake gave was the consistent pressure on your clit and the litany of praise and encouragement that fell from his lips - “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby. Just like that. Liked that, hmm? Do it again. Can feel that you’re close.”

When you finally came, Jake kissed your temple as you collapsed against him, his hands sweeping your skin as he told you how much he loved you. Gently, he encouraged you onto your knees and turned you around, lifting your hips. Your cries were muffled in your folded arms and blankets as he fucked you from behind, thrusting hard enough to punch the air from your lungs. Glancing behind you, you were mesmerized by the sight of his muscles moving beneath his skin, highlighted by the stream of sunset through a gap in the curtains. Your husband grinned as he met your gaze, one hand leaving your hip to run a soothing hand down your spine.

Hit with a horrible sense of deja vu, you refused to close your eyes when Jake tried to get you to relax after a shared shower. His hands drifted over your skin, mapping every curve and divot before pressing lightly when the baby made herself known. He shifted down the bed to press his forehead to your stomach, stroking softly as he murmured his love to his daughter, promising he would be home soon. As usual, when she heard her Daddy, it felt like Sloane was doing cartwheels in your belly. Jake’s grin was worth every bit of discomfort as you threaded your fingers through his hair, savoring the moment for the three of you.

With less than an hour until the taxi came, you watched as Jake checked the room to ensure all his stuff was packed away. His bags sat by the door, ready for the moment he had to go downstairs and return to the port. With his last check completed, he joined you in the kitchenette, where you sipped a water bottle, boxing you in against the counter. Setting it aside, you wrapped your arms around him and felt him kiss your forehead. “Just a couple more weeks,” he said softly.

“More than halfway done,” you nodded. Jake lightly tugged your hair, encouraging you to look up at him.

“It’s gonna fly by.”

“February will be here before you know it.”

“We’ll have so much to celebrate then.”

“Not sure I’ll be in celebrating shape by that point,” you said, attempting a teasing tone that fell flat. “Can’t have sex for at least six weeks after giving birth.” Jake chuckled, stepping closer so your stomach pressed against his.

“Worth it.” You nodded, swallowing hard against the tears that threatened to fall. “Talked to my CO, and he’ll make sure I’ve got a private space to be on a call with you when…”

“What happens if you’re in the air when I go into labor?”

“The tower’ll let me know, and I’ll land as soon as possible and call you.” Blowing out a breath, you met his solemn green eyes and forced a smile.

“I’ll make sure my laptop and charger are in my hospital bag.” You watched as the sadness crept into his gaze and his brow furrowed against yours. “It’ll be okay,” you promised. His touch was calculated as he slowly stripped you of your clothes, fingers caressing your bare skin as he kissed you. After he kicked away the jeans and boxers pooling at his feet, you palmed his cock before his hand wrapped around your knee, keeping you steady as he encouraged you to wrap it around his hip. Holding you there, he slowly pressed into you, swallowing your gasps and sighs as he rocked against you.

The front desk called at 11:35 PM to inform you that the taxi had arrived. Jake tried to get you to stay in the room, but you refused. After tossing his things into the back seat, he pulled you into his arms and kissed you hard. “Love you, darlin’.”

“Love you too. Be safe.”

“You too. Both of you.” He dropped to his knee and pressed his forehead to your stomach. “Be good for Mama, Sloane. I’ll be home soon.” You felt him push your shirt up just enough to brush his lips to your skin.

“Go before I start crying,” you whispered against his mouth when he kissed you again. He nodded, dropping his head to rest his forehead against yours. “I love you, Jacob Michael Seresin.” You felt his smile as he said your full name.

“‘M so glad we aren’t friends,” he chuckled, and you laughed, standing on your toes to kiss him.

“Me too. So much better being your wife.”

As the taxi drove away, you lifted a hand and waved. Jake smiled at you from the backseat and blew you a kiss.

The house seemed empty when you finally made it home. Javy carried your bags to the bedroom while you darted into the bathroom. The plane had hit bad turbulence on the flight home, and you still felt nauseous. You kept that information to yourself when replying to Jake’s text while standing in line for Customs, instead telling him it was smooth.

As tired as you were, it was hard to sleep that night without the sound of your husband’s soft snoring and his hands on you. Sloane seemed restless as well, moving more than normal at night.

“I know,” you sighed, pressing a hand to where she’d kicked you. “I miss Daddy too.”

February couldn’t come soon enough.

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Author's Note: Jake and Darlin' got their babymoon 🥹 I had a lot of fun writing this chapter - my family wasn't at Yokosuka, but we did live in Japan for 9 years when I was growing up. Guess who didn't realize that Johnny Rockets was an American burger chain until they were 16 since I'd only gone in Tokyo? Yeah... good times...

Though I can't tag her here, May deserves credit for helping me with this chapter and making sure I didn't go too far into the body image angst.

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