#*imagines tommy being the one to answer*

[kraviolis]

one of these days im gonna be incredibly self indulgent and draw an entire fix-it comic about cleo shaw bcus shes one of my all time favorite characters and i fucking miss her so much bro

[mariatesstruther]

okay hear me out modern au where Tommy and Maria first meet in a club in their 20s and they bump into each other while dancing and just start dancing together and they just hit it off but in the end they both forget to give each other their numbers so both of them go back to the same club the next week to hopefully meet each other again (also Tess and Maria definitely go clubbing together because I love them as best friends)

cowboy!!!! yes yes YES i LOVE this. and u could extend this meet-cute into like a whole thing where tommy and maria keep trying to meet at the club and exchange information, but something gets in the way everytime!!!! kid emergency!!! bar fight!!! cocaine bear on the loose!!! zombie apocalypse—who knows????

im thinking the first time, tess drags maria to a bar she likes because she’s been trying to get the attention of this hot dilfy guy at the bar, but he’s always tailing along with his friend. by tess’s design, maria and tommy meet and and hit it off and dance (to maria maria by santana) the night away. they fall in love and decide they want to go home together, so maria goes to the bathroom—but joel randomly comes up and is like “tommy, hey sorry selena’s mom called, sarah had a nightmare and she wants us both to pick her up, we gotta go” and in true miller dad-uncle panic they BOLT. by the time maria comes back, tess is like “idk dude, mine got a call so they had to go. seemed like an emergency. bummer” and they assume thats that

on the flip side: everythings okay with sarah, but after tommy and joel tuck her in tommy’s suddenly just like “fuck—fuck!!!!!” and joels like “what? what???” and he’s like “i didn’t get her number :(:(:(:( fuck” and so joel’s like “it’s okay, i see her friend there all the time” and so tommy’s like “omg :D do you have her friends number?” “well… no” “joel… what the fuck man.” so they make a plan to go back next week with the hopes of at least seeing tess and getting maria’s number from there—tommy also wants to get tess’s number for joel, but he doesn’t need to know that

little do THEY know, tess and maria are already plotting for next weekend. they show up to that bar looking fine as FUCK—they quite literally turn heads walking through the door. of course the miller brothers are there, sitting in a booth all the way in the back and waiting, making eyes. tess and maria are not shy, so they start making their way over. unfortunately, some drunk asshole decides to try to get handsy with tess on her way there—which results in her punching him in the face, which results in him trying to punch her in the face. she dodges, of course, but it starts a full-on bar brawl that the miller boys jump into without hesitation (joel manages to tackle and land a few good ones on og drunk asshole too so. slay.). none of them get arrested or anything, but they definitely don’t get eachother numbers on account of joel and tommy having to duck the cops

so i guess they gotta keep trying ;)

[punkshort]

Evergreen | Chapter Three: Bargaining

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel are left to deal with the fallout of Sarah discovering your relationship.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, grief, mentions of OC deaths, mostly Joel POV but it swaps back and forth, super soft Joel, heartbreak, grief counseling

WC: 7.4K

Series Masterlist

Joel still smelled your perfume in his beard as he stood outside of Sarah's door, one hand propped on his hip, the other holding himself up against the frame. He stared at the locked door, the sound of some female pop singer blasting angrily through the speakers on her dresser.

This was not how things were supposed to go. This was not how he wanted his daughter to find out.

Even as his fist pummeled loudly against the door, wood rattling in its hinges as he shouted at Sarah to open up, he couldn't get the distressed look on your face out of his mind.

Coward. Asshole.

He had froze. He was too stunned and shocked that Sarah arrived a week early for a visit. He thought he would have had more time to conjure up what he would tell his daughter about the new and exciting woman in his life. The woman who made him happy, who cared for him, the woman he wanted to care for in return.

He vaguely remembered you fixing your bra underneath your shirt, skin red hot with embarrassment as Sarah's eyes bounced back and forth between her father and a much younger woman.

"Who the hell is this?" Sarah had spat with a look of distaste. You smoothed down your hair and looked at Joel, expecting him to say something, but he was still panicking. Immobilized. So you stood and gave her an awkward smile, offering your name and your apologies. His daughter scanned you up and down once and ignored your outstretched hand. Instead, she pinned all her energy and focus on Joel.

"Dad? W-what is this? What's going on?"

You slowly dropped your arm and looked back at Joel, both women waiting for him to act. To fucking do something. When it became clear Joel wasn't making a move and it became too uncomfortable to stand there any longer, you walked to the front door.

That's when he finally blinked and snapped out of it.

"Wait! Where're you goin'?" he had asked as you slipped your sneakers back on.

"Home. You guys should talk," you said without looking up.

"But-"

"It's fine, Joel," you had said once you straightened up. But when he saw the look in your eye, he could tell it was anything but fine. "We'll talk tomorrow. Or... whenever."

His heart lurched out of his chest. It felt like he was being split in two. He didn't want you to go. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to grab onto you, to not let you leave. But when he looked back at Sarah, at the hurt and confusion clouding her face, he knew you were right.

So as much as it killed him, he nodded tightly and softly promised you call you as soon as he could. After what he had expected to be a calm and rational conversation with his daughter. One hour later, and Sarah had yet to say a single word to him. Each passing minute made his blood boil even more.

"Sarah! Open the goddamn door!"

"No!" she shouted back from the other side. Joel groaned and turned around, then leaned up against the wall next to her door and closed his eyes. His patience was wearing thin.

He knew she wouldn't take the news well. Deep down, he always knew. Tommy tried to tell him otherwise, but Joel knew his daughter better than anyone on earth.

And he couldn't really blame her. It had been just the two of them for so long, to invite a new person into the fold was... a lot, to say the least.

"Sarah, will you please just - talk to me?" he yelled over the music.

He tipped his head to the side, waiting for her answer. An answer that never came.

"Sarah?"

"Leave me alone!" she cried out, then a moment later something soft hit the door. Joel imagined her angrily throwing her pillow and he rolled his eyes.

He wanted to argue with her. Wanted to remind her she was an adult now and what she was doing was immature, but he was exhausted. It had been a long day and any other time, he would have been asleep for almost three hours already. He glanced at his watch and pushed off the wall.

"When you're done with your damn tantrum, come find me," he said into the locked door, then trudged down the hall to his room and closed the door.

He collapsed into bed with a deep sigh, the bass from Sarah's room thumping against the walls, the noise matching the pounding headache he was quickly cultivating. With an exasperated groan, he dragged his palms down his face, fingers pressing into his eyes to dull some of the pain for a moment.

What a fucking mess.

He sighed and hauled himself to his feet, forced himself to go to his bathroom, and washed up. He popped two Tylenol, then flicked off the lights before shuffling to bed.

It was almost midnight. He stared at his cell phone, finger hovering over your name. It was late, but as he weighed his options, he decided it would be worse if he didn't call you.

Besides, selfishly... he really needed to hear your voice.

He dialed your number before he could overthink it.

"Hello?"

His chest ached at how tired you sounded.

"Hey."

He waited a beat before taking a deep breath.

"I'm so sorry. 'Bout earlier. She wasn't supposed to come home til next weekend."

He heard some movement on your end, some fabric rustling before you replied.

"It's okay. How - how did it go?"

His eyes drifted towards his closed door, music still thumping loudly from Sarah's room.

"She ain't talkin' to me."

You sighed heavily through the phone and he swallowed.

"She'll come 'round. I think it was just a shock. Never saw me so much as holdin' hands with another woman her whole life, let alone..." he trailed off and nervously scratched his beard.

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath, and a feeling of dread washed over him.

"Maybe it's for the best," you said, voice trembling like you were trying to fight the emotion from reaching through the phone.

"W-what'dya mean?" he stammered. Something didn't feel right.

"I mean -" he heard you sniffle and his heart began to race. "Maybe it's good she interrupted us. I mean, I don't mean - shit. Just that - maybe it was a sign, you know?"

Joel shook his head and straightened his spine, phone clutched so tightly in his hand he thought it might splinter.

"No, I don't know. A sign that... what?"

"A sign that..." your voice wobbled clearly now and he closed his eyes. "That we shouldn't be doing this."

"Why? Why would you think that?" he pleaded. His heart sunk in his chest and he could feel the tears burning the backs of his eyes as his world slowly crumbled around him.

"I-I don't know. I don't want to come between you and your daughter, Joel -"

"You ain't," he insisted, "Please don't think that. You ain't comin' between us. She just - she needs some time, is all."

"... and m-maybe I'm not as ready to move on as I thought."

Joel paused. It felt like, for one moment, the world stopped spinning. How could he argue with you about that? As much as it hurt him to hear, as much as the past few weeks told him otherwise, he couldn't tell you how to feel.

"Oh," was all he managed to say.

"I'm sorry," you told him, voice soft and filled with sadness.

Joel sniffed and shook his head. He could feel his throat closing up. His head was still pounding but at least Sarah's music finally fucking stopped.

"Don't be sorry."

There was a long pause after that. A silence filled with despair as Joel struggled to find the right thing to say. His head was spinning. How did everything fall apart so quickly?

"I -" he began, then swallowed the lump in his throat when his voice came out broken. "I can wait. I'll ... I'll wait. Whatever it takes."

"Um," your voice bled through the phone, and this time he could tell for certain you had been silently crying. "It's getting late," you finally said with a shaky breath.

"Oh... okay," he replied thickly as two tears slipped down his cheeks.

"I'll... I'll see you around."

He nodded until he remembered you couldn't see him.

"Yeah. Okay."

The line went dead. Joel stared at his phone in his hand, vision blurring with tears. He tossed it onto the bed next to him and laid down, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut tight, wondering how long it would take for the pain to go away that time.

Coffee didn't touch the migraine he woke up with the following morning. He tossed and turned all night, his muscles aching from the tension riddling his body. If he had to guess, he might have gotten three hours of sleep.

"Thought you told me you were running in the mornings?"

Joel looked up from his spot at the kitchen table, his third cup of coffee growing cold between his hands.

"Didn't feel like it today."

He dropped his gaze back to the table, pain blossoming once again in his chest when he remembered the look on your face, the tone of your voice, the shaky breaths through the phone.

He listened to Sarah move around the kitchen. Pulling a clean mug from the cupboard. Splashing her coffee with a bit of milk. The clink of the spoon around the ceramic.

Joel continued to stare down at his reflection in his coffee when she sat down across from him.

"Do you usually run with her?" Sarah asked, venom lacing her voice. Joel's hackles raised. She was looking for a fight and he was not in the fucking mood.

"No. I go too early," he said through gritted teeth.

Sarah huffed and took a loud slurp from her mug.

"So she just lays in your bed til you get back? Real supportive," she muttered dismissively. Joel's jaw clenched and his fingers wrapped tightly around his coffee.

"Knock it off," he growled. Sarah's eyes flickered up to meet his over the rim of her mug. "You ain't got the first idea what you're talkin' 'bout."

She scowled at him. "Fine. Enlighten me, then. Tell me about her. What does she do?"

Joel took a stiff sip of coffee. "She ain't workin' at the moment. She's been applyin' places."

Sarah gave him a dry laugh and flopped her arms on top of the table, exasperated. "Dad. Come on. You gotta see what I'm seeing, right?"

Joel just shook his head and kept his eyes down, fighting back every instinct to fall into an argument with his daughter.

"Dad," Sarah said, her voice softer when she reached across the table and placed a hand on his arm. "She's young and she doesn't have a job. Do I need to spell it out for you? What she's doing?"

"She ain't doin' anythin'. Leave it alone," he barked before standing up to rinse out his mug. Sarah swiveled around in her chair to watch him at the sink.

"I don't blame you, Dad. This happens all the time. Girls take advantage of men going through a mid-life crisis or whatever-"

"What?" Joel hissed, dropping his mug in the sink so he could look at her. Sarah shrugged.

"You're fifty-one. It's the very definition of mid-life."

"Quit talkin' before you piss me off," he said, turning back to the sink.

"I'm just trying to look out for you!" Sarah protested, standing up so she could join him in the kitchen. "You can't see it but just try to take a second and think: why would a girl that young be into someone your age?"

"She's thirty-one, she's an adult," he replied, aggressively drying his mug with a towel. "And she's got plenty of money. More money than me. She ain't - this ain't - goddamnit," he cursed, recklessly shoving his mug back in the cupboard before turning around and folding his arms across his chest.

"She told you she's got money but she doesn't have a job?" Sarah asked suspiciously. "And how did she acquire this money?"

"She inherited it," Joel told her with a shake of his head. He wasn't even sure why he was entertaining Sarah's ridiculous theory. He knew it wasn't true but it didn't even matter now, anyway.

"Oh, god, Dad," Sarah whined sympathetically. "You didn't seriously believe that, did you? God, she really has done a number on you-"

"Hey!" he said, pushing off the counter and taking a step closer. His face was flushed with anger and his head was still pounding, fueling the storm inside him. Sarah was a good kid. He could count on one hand how many times he had to punish her in her life, so he probably let that particular argument go on longer than he should have, but now he had reached his limit.

"Do I gotta remind you who you're talkin' to? I'm your father. You don't get to speak to me like I'm a goddamn child. I know what I'm doin', and you got no fuckin' clue what's been goin' on 'round here. I'm done talkin' 'bout it."

He brushed past Sarah, leaving her gobsmacked in the middle of the kitchen, eyes trialing after him as he stormed up the stairs to take a shower.

Some distance helped him cool off, but anger still simmered in his veins as he was getting dressed. At the last second, he snatched a pair of running shorts, deciding to go for a run after all. Maybe it would help blow off some steam.

He jogged down the stairs, feet landing a little louder than normal. He almost reached for his phone but then decided against it. The only person he wanted to hear from wouldn't be contacting him, anyway.

"Sarah? I'm goin'-"

Joel stopped short when he entered the living room to find Tommy sitting across from his daughter. It appeared he had interrupted their conversation, and by the looks of it, he could guess it was about him.

"I'm goin' for a run," he finished saying, tone flat.

"Okay," she replied, eyes flickering between the two brothers for a moment. One look at Tommy's face and Joel knew Sarah had filled him in on the past twelve hours. He turned towards the door and bent to tie his sneakers when Tommy stood.

"Hey, uh, sounds like everyone got off on the wrong foot last night," Tommy began. Joel kept his focus pinned on his shoes when his brother asked if he could give you a call to stop by, to maybe start fresh.

"No need. It's over."

Joel straightened up and reached for the door, but Tommy stopped him.

"Over?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose.

"Yep. She called it off. It's done."

Tommy's face fell but Joel didn't see it. Instead, he rushed out the front door before they could see the hurt in his eyes. It was too fresh. He needed some space to think things through. And he really couldn't stomach the pleased look Sarah likely had when she heard the news.

"The hell's gotten into you?" Tommy asked, swirling around once Joel slammed the door shut behind him. "He's finally happy, finally gettin' back out there-"

"With someone twenty years younger than him, uncle Tommy!"

"Gimme a goddamn break, kid!" Tommy huffed, collapsing into the recliner and dragging his palm roughly down his face.

"Why couldn't he go for someone his age? He looks like a- a creep! She's closer to age with me than him!" she protested, but Tommy just shook his head.

"He tell you anythin' 'bout her? How they met? Who she is?"

Sarah slowly shook her head and leaned back into the couch. "Just that she's magically very rich without having a job."

"Yeah, 'cause her fiancé died a year ago. Some hotshot author. She moved down here 'cause he's from Austin, and now she's all alone. They met at that - that group we were tellin' him to go to."

Sarah was silent for a moment, staring down at her lap and picking mindlessly at her chipped nail polish.

"She gave your dad some books for you. For him, too, to read so he had somethin' to share with you." Tommy nodded towards the bookshelf that was adorned with trinkets and framed photos but now housed a stack of familiar looking books.

Sarah stood and tilted her head to the side, reading the titles with a frown.

"I love this series," she said softly, fingertip brushing gently along the binding. "She was married to Daniel Davis?"

"Engaged," Tommy corrected, "but, yeah. Died in that wreck on the forty-five. She was in the car."

Sarah swiveled around in surprise.

"I remember. I was devastated," she murmured, gaze dropping sadly to the floor. "He was supposed to do a bunch of book signings the following week. I was gonna ask Dad to take me."

"She ain't tryin' to take advantage of him," Tommy said once Sarah slumped back into the couch. "They have a lot in common, and she treats him good. Takes care of him. And I think she's the reason he's runnin' and eatin' better, but he won't admit it."

Sarah crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "But why does she have to be so young?"

Tommy looked at his niece for a moment, perplexed.

"Why do you..." then he trailed off when he saw Sarah's eyes flicker over to a photo above the fireplace. One of her, Joel and her mother on Christmas Eve. All fight left his body when he saw the look on her face.

"It ain't really 'bout the age, is it?" he asked softly.

Sarah shot him a look, narrowing her eyes in his direction before stubbornly gazing out the window.

"I ... I don't know."

Tommy pressed his lips into a thin line and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"No one's gonna replace your mom, kid. Y'know that, right?"

Sarah just shrugged and continued to stare blankly out the front window.

Tommy gave her a moment before trying again.

"He didn't have anyone 'cept us for ten years. He's lonely, baby girl. And he found someone who's just as lonely as him. Both of 'em tryin' to - hell, I dunno." Tommy raked his fingers through his hair and sat back with a sigh. "Tryin' to get a second crack at it. It's fuckin' scary, y'know? Took a lot for your dad to put himself out there and take a chance. Was real worried 'bout you, and at the time I didn't get it, but..." He trailed off and swiped his palm over his mouth. "You two've been through somethin' terrible, but so has she. I can't remember the last time I've seen him so happy. They're good for each other."

Sarah's eyes drifted back to his, now misty.

"I thought I was cool with the idea of him moving on," she said quietly. "But when I saw them, I just... it hurt. More than I thought."

Tommy nodded and leaned forward to gently tap on her knee.

"Tell 'em that. And apologize, for Christ's sakes."

Sarah dragged in a shaky breath and nodded before swiping casually at the corner of her eye.

"He probably hates me now. I ruined everything."

Tommy laughed. "He can't ever hate you, and you know it. Couples have bumps in the road. He can fix it. Just - cut him some slack, yeah?"

She gave Tommy a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, alright."

It was almost twenty minutes later when Joel came back from his run, his grey tshirt soaked with sweat. His ankles were already sending jolts of pain up to his knees and he hadn't even taken his sneakers off. He ran too hard, harder than usual. He pushed himself because he was angry and wanted to take his frustration out on the pavement. Now the rest of his afternoon was shaping up to be one filled with discomfort, but he took solace in the fact that it might help distract him.

"Where's your uncle?" Joel panted when he spotted Sarah in the living room, reading a book. He walked past her without waiting for an answer. Joel grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge so he could chug it, too impatient to wait for his glass to fill up from the faucet.

"He left a few minutes ago," she said, trailing into the room after him. He was still greedily drinking down his ice cold water when his eyes locked onto the book in her hand. She noticed and looked down at the cover.

"I love these books."

Joel swiped his mouth with his forearm and nodded.

"I know."

"Did you - are you reading them?" she asked, peering up at him. Joel shrugged and leaned against the kitchen counter.

"Tried to but fantasy ain't exactly my thing. Kept readin' the same page over and over tryin' to figure out what the hell was goin' on."

Sarah grinned and hopped up onto one of the barstools.

"Uncle Tommy told me where you got them," she said, her tone light. "Did you know I wanted to go to one of his book signings? He had a few scheduled right before he died."

Joel froze. His eyes flickered down to the book and back up to his daughter before shaking his head.

"She gave these to you? For free?" Sarah asked, tapping a finger on the cover. Joel nodded and he could feel his shoulders tightening, bracing for another argument.

"Did she tell you this particular set is, like, incredibly rare? I think there's only..." Sarah trailed off and pulled out her phone. She read something on her screen and looked back up at him. "There's less than five hundred with the leather covers. I mean, just one of these would go for a lot of money online."

Joel took a steadying breath and dropped his gaze to the floor.

"She just said she had boxes of books in his office. Didn't know what to do with 'em all. She found out you were a fan and said I could have 'em."

"Not only that," Sarah continued, ignoring him momentarily so she could flip back to the front of the book. She opened it up and lifted it from the table so she could show him the front page. Joel squinted, seeing something written inside, but he couldn't make it out.

"He signed them. He signed them all. This is a small fortune, Dad."

"Don't sell 'em. I'll give you money if you-"

"I wasn't gonna," she said, cutting him off and gently closing the book. "What I'm trying to say is... that was really nice of her. Like, super nice and generous."

Joel swallowed and nodded. "That's her, in a nutshell. Kind, sweet, generous. Caring. You woulda gotten along if you gave her a chance."

Guilt flashed across Sarah's face. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Joel looked confused at first, struggling to keep up with the change of tone. He was unsure how to respond, but luckily, he didn't have to.

"I'm really sorry, Dad. I was talking to uncle Tommy about everything and he made me realize what a jerk I was."

Sarah's lower lip quivered for a moment while Joel remained stock still, waiting for her to continue.

"I guess I thought I was ready to see you with someone else but when I actually saw it with my own eyes, it felt - well, it hurt. And I took it out on you guys. And I'm so, so sorry I ruined this for you."

She dropped her head when tears burned her eyes. Joel took a few steps forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling Sarah into a hug.

"It's alright, baby girl. I understand."

"But it's not alright. I ruined your first relationship in ten years. I'm fucking awful," she sobbed, clutching at his sweat stained shirt.

Joel chuckled sadly and kissed the top of her head.

"I still got you, don't I?"

Sarah leaned back, tears staining her cheeks as she frowned up at him.

"That's not enough! You need someone with you all the time. Someone to care for you when you're sick and someone to watch those shitty fisherman shows you like."

Joel grinned and pinched her chin before taking a step back.

"I'll manage just fine. I gotta shower, then we can do somethin' together. Wanna go to the movies? Or-"

"No, Dad! You need to get her back!" she exclaimed, her hand subconsciously falling to rest on the book. He must have looked conflicted because Sarah slid down from the barstool and darted around the kitchen island to grab his phone from the charger.

"What're you doin'?" he asked, reaching around her and quickly yanking his phone from her hand.

"You gotta try! Please? Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her it wasn't her fault-"

He looked at his phone. No missed calls or texts.

"I don't know..."

"Just try! Call her! Text her! Whatever you do - just please, try. For me?" Sarah begged with watery eyes. Joel sighed and scratched his beard.

"I'll give it a shot. But it wasn't just what happened last night. She said she's havin' mixed feelin's 'bout bein' ready for somethin' new."

Sarah shook her head. "Then change her mind. I want you to be happy, Dad. I want her to be happy."

He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded.

"Okay. I'm - I'll give her a call."

You sat slumped in your chair next to Ellie, the two of you listening to a regular tell the group about reoccurring nightmares she was having about her sister, who she lost three months prior. Your phone buzzed again in your lap, so you looked down to find yet another text from Joel.

I didn't go to group today cuz I'm trying to give you space but please call me

Ellie watched from the corner of her eye when you slipped your phone into your purse without responding to the message.

"That Joel?"

You nodded and kept your eyes on the speaker.

"Where is he? Late?" Ellie whispered. You shook your head.

"Not coming," you whispered back.

She frowned and sat back in her chair. Something was going on. It was unlike him to not show up and your mood had been shitty all evening.

"Trouble in paradise?" she tried, meaning it as a joke until she saw the way your face pinched and her heart plummeted

"Fuck, I'm sorry. What did he do?" she whispered, then made a face at a woman a few seats down who frowned in her direction.

"Nothing. It was me. I ended it."

"What? Why?" she hissed, blatantly ignoring the looks she was getting for being disruptive.

You just cleared your throat and kept staring straight ahead, patiently waiting for the speaker to finish up. You could feel Ellie's eyes burning holes in the side of your head but you refused to meet her gaze. She would find out the answer to her question soon enough, anyway.

The young woman finished up, stepping away from the front of the room while swiping sadly at the corners of her eyes, then Ryan stood from his chair in the front row and addressed the room.

"Thank you for sharing, Vicky," he said, catching her eye after she sat down with an encouraging smile. He clasped his hands together as he scanned the room. "Is there anybody else who would like to share tonight?"

You bit your lip, heart racing a little when you slowly raised your hand. Ryan noticed the movement and looked slightly surprised, but he recovered well. He extended an arm in your direction and said your name for the group, then stepped to the side. You stood on shaky legs and inched past Ellie, who scrambled to get out of your way. Her wide eyes were glued to your back as you made your way past the rows of folding chairs to stand behind the wobbly podium you were fairly confident was abandoned by a music teacher at some point, then turned to face the group for the very first time.

"Hi," you began softly. You wet your lips nervously as your eyes drifted around the room, taking in the mostly familiar faces. Ryan sat back down in his chair and gave you an encouraging nod. "I lost my fiancé a year ago," you continued. "We were in a car wreck. He was driving. It was dark, we were on our way back from checking out a wedding venue-"

You felt your throat squeeze and you had take a moment. The room was quiet, respectfully and patiently waiting for you to go on.

"A truck hit us. Well, it hit Daniel's side. I was... fine. Mostly. I spent the last year living in our dream house, trying to settle legal issues while also trying to heal." You swallowed, dropping your gaze to your hands folded neatly across the podium. "I don't have anyone here. My family is from Portland and they keep telling me I need to sell the house and move back home. I... I think I've been waiting for a sign, you know? Like a sign to tell me what to do. Go home, or stay in Texas."

Your lower lip trembled when you said, "And then I met someone. Someone who made me happy. Someone who cared for me the same way Daniel cared for me. And I thought I had my sign."

You looked back up and your eyes briefly met Ellie's. Her expression was unreadable, but she was hanging on your every word.

"He's a little older than me. He has a daughter in college," you continued, dragging your eyes away from Ellie. "And he was going to tell her about us when she came home from school for a visit. But..." you trailed off, cheeks burning when you remembered the compromising position Sarah found you in. "She came home a week early to surprise him, I guess, and... well... she didn't exactly have a positive reaction when she walked in our date night."

You cleared your throat and shifted your weight, eager to move past that part of the story.

"The man I've been seeing lost his wife some time ago. His daughter's mother." You intentionally left out that Joel was part of the very same grief counseling group you were addressing, already feeling too exposed and embarrassed as it was. "It was the first time she saw her father with someone other than her mom. I don't blame her one bit," you added, raising your palms slightly in surrender. "But I couldn't help but wonder if I got my sign. If maybe..." you sniffled and dropped your hands back down, twisting your fingers together as you struggled to come up with the right words. "If maybe I was moving on too fast. If maybe I should grieve more." Your eyes flickered up quickly to Ellie when you said quietly, "If maybe I should listen to my parents and move back home."

Ellie stiffened in her chair but otherwise didn't give anything away.

"I feel so selfish," you whispered, staring back down at your hands again. "I already had the love of my life, and it was wonderful. How could I let myself think I deserved to have that again?"

You watched two teardrops fall and splatter across the podium, two perfect circles being absorbed by the wood, joining the countless tears that had been soaked in before you.

"Anyway, that's about it," you said, voice thick as you swiped at your eyes. "I have an appointment next week to meet with a realtor. It's going to be so hard to let go of that house, but I can't keep living there. I see him everywhere and it's just..." you trailed off again and forced your eyes back up. "It's just all too much, I think."

You gave the group a sad smile and stepped away, making to return to your chair when Ryan stood and placed a comforting hand on your arm.

"Hang back for a second after we wrap up, I would really like to talk," he said softly. You nodded and slipped out of his hold, solemnly heading back to your seat and slumping down next to Ellie. You felt like you had run a marathon. Your body was weak and you felt unbelievably tired.

"Dude-"

"I just need a minute," you told her, cutting Ellie off. You knew what she was going to say. She was going to try to convince you to stay and you were so fragile that you just might have let her convince you.

You were the last speaker. Ryan wrapped up the hour with his usual speech and a reminder he is always available to talk before dismissing the group. Everyone stood, hushed voices mingling with the sound of jackets being pulled on and zippers being done up.

"Can we grab a coffee or something?" Ellie tried again when you both stood. You caught Ryan's eye before giving her a tight smile.

"Maybe tomorrow? Ryan asked me to hang back."

She glanced over her shoulder, seeming to consider her options before you laughed softly and poked her in the arm.

"I'm not leaving tonight. I promise, we can talk."

She gave you a half smile before giving you a stern look.

"I'll hold you to it."

With a weak hand salute, you wished her good night, then headed towards the back of the room where Ryan stood by the door talking to an older gentleman holding a cup of coffee. When he spotted you coming, Ryan clapped the man on the shoulder and excused himself.

"Look, I'll get right to the point," he began. His forwardness took you off guard for a second. "You don't talk much here. I've seen you coming back week after week for months. And in my experience, when someone finally speaks up, it's because something is weighing on them so heavily that they have no where else to put it."

You felt frozen, surprised by how quickly he managed to clock you. Then again, it was his job, you supposed. He took your silence as an invitation to continue.

"I'm not sure if you are seeing a therapist but if you aren't, I would really like it if you would consider a few sessions with me." Ryan pulled out a card from his shirt pocket and handed it over. You took it hesitantly.

"I'll even give you the first session on the house. I want to help you work through some of these feelings, and it's totally your choice. But one thing I need to make sure you hear is this: there is no expiration date on grief. And it is completely normal to feel guilty for moving on for the first time, but please, I beg you - do not make any rash decisions until you have had time to properly process everything."

When you dragged your eyes up to meet his, you found nothing but sincerity and kindness staring back at you. Maybe you had been too quick to judge him in the past. He was young, sure, and it was sometimes hard to look past that, but he seemed genuine and caring. Like he really wanted to help people.

"Okay. Yeah. I'll give your office a call," you finally agreed. Ryan smiled, looking relieved.

"Good. There's no need to suffer in silence when there's people around who want to help. And I'm sure I'm not the only one," he added. You couldn't be certain if he was referring to Joel or Ellie. Maybe both. But either way, he wasn't wrong.

You nodded and slipped his card into your purse with the promise again to call before heading back out into the parking lot.

It didn't take much for Ellie to figure out where Joel lived. Given his age, she assumed he would still be the type to have a landline but not only that, he was one of the few remaining people who listed their number and address in the fucking phone book. She gave him points for just listing his name as J. Miller, but she was still shaking her head on the drive over. She couldn't imagine any of her friends putting all their information out in public like that.

"Must be nice being a dude," she muttered under her breath when she pulled up to the curb and cut the engine.

Glancing at the driveway, all she saw was a small red sedan. Joel's truck was nowhere to be found, but she thought maybe it was inside the garage. She pushed the driver's door open and marched up to the front door with a determined look on her face, ready to give Joel a piece of her mind, but when she knocked loudly on the door just to be greeted by a girl her own age, she faltered.

"Can I help you?" the girl asked with a little frown. Ellie squared her jaw and stood up straight.

"Yeah. Is Joel home?"

Now the girl crossed her arms defensively and scowled, immediately picking up on the sharpness in Ellie's voice.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Ellie. We met through a friend," Ellie explained, waving her hand in the air. The grief counseling group wasn't exactly anonymous but she still felt strange broadcasting it, so she chose not to elaborate further. "Something's going on and I need to talk to him. Is he here?"

The other girl still looked suspicious as she eyed Ellie up before finally replying, "No. He's at work but he should be home soon. Can I give him a message?"

Ellie sighed and scratched the back of her neck. She had been so preoccupied with what she was going to say that it didn't even dawn on her who the other girl was until a moment later.

"Wait... are you Joel's daughter?"

She nodded. "Sarah," she offered without extending her hand.

Ellie scoffed and crossed her own arms, mimicking Sarah's posture.

"Oh, so you're the one who caused all this."

Sarah made a face and pushed off the doorframe to stand a little taller.

"Excuse me?"

Then Ellie dropped your name as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and Sarah's face slowly began to soften.

"You ran her out of here last weekend, remember? Now she's talking about moving back to fucking... Portland or wherever. And I need Joel to man the hell up and apologize before she does something stupid."

"I did not run her out of here," Sarah sneered. "I don't know who you think you are but you don't get to come here and-"

"She means a lot to me, okay?" Ellie exclaimed. Her eyes looked a little wild and desperate, causing the words to die on Sarah's tongue. "I can't - she can't leave. I don't have fucking any family and she's really... she's cool." Ellie raked her fingers anxiously through her short hair, heart pounding in her chest at the thought of losing someone close to her again. "She's always there when I need to talk to someone. I know she does the same for your dad. She's a decent person and she's hurting and I need to help make it right."

Sarah cut off Ellie's rambling with her palms held up in the air, signaling for her to stop.

"I apologized to my dad, like, the very next day. He said he would try to get ahold of her. He promised me he would try to fix it. I told him-"

Sarah turned around and bent over to slide on her sneakers. Ellie took a step back, reeling from how quickly the atmosphere between them changed from anger to something else.

"Where are you going?"

"I gotta go find her, don't I? I gotta apologize," Sarah said, grabbing her purse and locking the front door behind her. "What's her address?"

Ellie blinked, pausing for a moment before shaking herself out of her stupor to pull out her phone.

"I only went there once when she gave me an unpublished manuscript written by her dead fiancé," Ellie said before rattling off your address. "It's an old Victorian house and it's got a huge fucking garden out front. Sticks out, you can't miss it."

"Got it, thanks," Sarah mumbled after she tapped it into her phone.

"I have to admit, I really expected this conversation to go differently," Ellie said, following Sarah down the steps of the porch.

"What? You thought I was some cold-hearted bitch who didn't want her own dad to be happy?" Sarah shot back over her shoulder. Ellie shrugged.

"Yeah. Kinda."

"Well, you'd be wrong. I had a shitty first reaction but I think I'm allowed that. I've never seen my dad look twice at a woman that wasn't my mom for my entire life."

Sarah unlocked her car door and tossed her purse inside. She rested one arm on top of the hood and took a deep breath when she turned back to Ellie.

"When I fix this, you're gonna let me borrow that manuscript."

Ellie blinked, then grinned. "Deal."

Sarah hid her own smile and slid into the driver's seat before starting the car and backing out of the driveway. Ellie slowly followed her car down the blacktop, pulling her keys out of her pocket when a horn beeped a friendly little sound just two doors down. Ellie looked up, immediately recognizing Joel's truck. She could see Joel behind the wheel watching Sarah quizzically as she zoomed past him in the opposite direction, then waited until he pulled into his driveway and got out of the car.

"The hell's goin' on? What're you doin' here?" he asked before his door was even open all the way.

"I'm here to knock some sense into you, old man," Ellie said, eyes drifting back towards the street where Sarah just disappeared. "But it turns out, your daughter is handling things for us, instead."

"Get to the point, Ellie," Joel scolded.

"Your girlfriend got up in front of group the other night and said she's gonna move back out west 'cause she feels like she's gotta beat herself up a little more over Daniel's death or something."

Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"What?" he breathed. Panic gripped his throat. He dug his keys into his palm just to ground himself and stop his ears from ringing.

Ellie sighed dramatically. "She thinks she moved on too quickly with you but I personally think she just feels guilty about moving on at all. Then the way Sarah reacted sure as shit didn't help but hopefully she'll set that right-"

"Sarah's goin' over to her house?" Joel clarified in disbelief.

"Yeah. Like you should've done days ago."

"I- I was givin' her space! I was callin' an- and textin' her but she never answered! Goddamnit!"

Joel swiveled on his heel and jumped back into his truck.

"You're going there, too? The entire Miller army?" Ellie asked when Joel backed up past her with his window down.

"I can't let her leave thinkin' we don't want her here," he said, eyes pinned on his review mirror. Ellie jogged to the end of the driveway, watching as Joel backed out and shifted back into drive. His expression was one mixed with fear and determination.

"Hey!" Ellie called, and Joel slowed his truck to look at her. "Don't fuck it up this time, yeah?"

He rolled his eyes and pressed his foot on the gas, peeling down his street and leaving Ellie to slowly climb back into her own car with a triumphant smile.

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[bucksaiga]

Imagining Buck being so worked up over Tommy's bubbling and abrupt stopping that he comes up with absurd ways to try and find out if Tommy's okay.

First he downloads one of those texting apps, creates a secondary number and then texts Tommy pretending he's conducting a survey on behalf of the LAFD, and Tommy promptly replies to the text asking if it's a phone interview.

Buck panics and says it is and now he's downloading a voice changer app and asking Tommy all these bullshit questions like "when's the last time you were injured on the job, do you have any current injuries, do you like being a firefighter pilot..." and Tommy's answering the questions without a hitch, then Buck starts asking for "demographic information" like "are you married, single" and Tommy sounds a bit dejected when he says he's single so Buck chimes in and says "all heroes deserve someone special!" and Tommy responds with a dismissive "yeah, I guess they do."

Now Buck, being certifiably fucking insane, wants to take this further and asks if he can call Tommy to do additional surveys about his life as a firefighter pilot. Tommy obliges and asks the surveyor for their name.

Buck comes up with a name on the fly. "Aaron Baxter."

Tommy pauses, Buck gets nervous, then he's just like "okay, anything else you need, Aaron?" Buck tells him no and to have a good day.

Buck conducts a few more of these surveys with Tommy, just to hear his voice and how he's been doing on the job, trying not to dip too much into his personal life and make it weird.

On the third survey, Tommy mentions an injury that's kept him off duty, and Buck's so worried he's breaking character and Tommy's laughing, assuming this surveyor is flirting with him.

Buck doesn't know what to do so he kinda dances around the point but asks "what if I was flirting? you just sound so charming and interesting."

Tommy laughs into the phone and says he's flattered but his heart belongs to someone else and it probably will for awhile.

Buck thanks Tommy for letting him conduct another survey and tells him to get some rest.

Now Buck's scrambling around trying to figure out a way to make it seem like he found out about Tommy's injury a different way, without him finding out it was him conducting the surveys, so he asks Eddie to call Tommy and invite him to play basketball.

Eddie's asking Buck why he should do that and Buck doesn't want to tell Eddie about the survey thing either because he doesn't want his best friend to think he's a lunatic, so he just pleads, telling Eddie he just has a bad feeling.

Eddie eventually gives in and calls Tommy to ask how he's doing and see if he wants to play basketball. The problem is, Tommy never mentions the injury to Eddie. He just tells him he has a lot on his plate and he won't be able to come out for a few weeks.

Now Buck has to figure out another way to say he found out about the injury. He thinks and thinks and thinks, but he's got nothing. So he pulls out a secret weapon.

He'd been holding on to one of Tommy's shirts because it was the last thing linking them to one another. He hoped Tommy would come pick it up, or he'd ask for it, or something. So now Buck's in his car with this flannel shirt that he didn't want to let go of, but this shirt is the only way he can access Tommy.

He knocks on Tommy's door, and it takes him about 5 minutes to answer. They take a good look at one another, Buck immediately notices Tommy's crutches and starts profusely apologizing.

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I just wanted-"

"Come in."

Tommy invites him inside and they sit at the kitchen table having what feels like an endless staring contest.

"I, uh...I-I came to bring back your shirt."

"What shirt?"

Buck looks around, realizing he didn't even grab the shirt from the passenger seat. "Oh, damn it. I forgot it in the car."

Tommy snorts. "Sure you did."

"No I-I'm serious. It's in the car I'll go get it." He eagerly springs up.

"You wanna hear something strange?" Tommy begins.

Buck warily sits down, waiting for Tommy to continue.

"Some guy's been calling me every week or so, claiming he was conducting surveys on behalf of the LAFD."

Buck shrugged it off. "Yeah?"

"I asked my captain about it, he said there's no one conducting surveys on behalf of the LAFD. I started to think it was a scam at first, but the guy was only asking me about my well being and if I was seeing anyone and if I'd been injured on the job."

Buck was trying to conceal his nervousness. "O...kay?"

"I mentioned my injury, vaguely. And then Eddie calls me, asking if I wanna play basketball."

"B-but Eddie always plays basketball with you."

"Sure, but then, you suddenly show up here to return my shirt." Tommy cocks his head and smirks knowingly. "Something you wanna tell me?"

"I-uh-n-no." Buck falters. "I just...no."

Tommy laughs. "You have a very odd way of going about things, Evan Buckley. Can I offer you a little advice?"

"Sure."

"If you wanna lie, lie better, and if you wanna use a voice changer, use a better voice changer. I could still tell it was you."

Buck's mouth hung open. "I-uh-h-how'd you know?"

"I know you." Tommy responds in a quiet whisper.

"I'm sorry for lying to you. I just missed you so much and all I wanted to do was hear your voice again, b-but then you said you were injured and I-"

"Couldn't stay away." Tommy nods. "I would've done the same thing. I mean, not the voice changer, or the surveys, but...if you were hurt, I'd wanna be by your side too."

Buck sighs in relief. "C-can I ask you a question?"

"You've asked me lots of questions. What's one more?"

"When you said your heart belongs to someone else...did you know it was me you were talking to?"

Tommy shrugs. "Are you asking me if my heart belongs to you?"

"Well, I'm actually...hoping it does. Because Tommy...I can't let you go."

They smile at one another and Buck feels like the painful grip on his heart is finally loosening.

"How about I make us some coffee and we have a conversation? A real one. I wanna talk to Evan, not Aaron. Sound good?"

Buck agrees. "Yeah, that sounds great."

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve got the tattoo the day they held the very small, very secret service for Eddie.

He knew he had to get it somewhere hidden, didn’t wanna answer questions, not even from Robin.

The E+S on his upper thigh was precious to him, all he had left of the promises they made to each other as children and again as teenagers.

Eddie was Steve’s, even if he wasn’t here, and Steve would always be Eddie’s, even if Eddie no longer knew.

But eventually, the end of summer came, and the kids wanted to have something normal. Normal for them was a pool party that ended in a sleepover, and Steve didn’t have much choice about making it happen.

He wanted them to have something normal.

So he got his bathing suit on, forgetting the tattoo was in a spot that might show in it, and tried to have fun with them.

Robin noticed and then Max noticed, and once he’d tried getting out of the explanation twice in a row, Dustin and Will noticed.

So he just explained that he lost a dare with Tommy years ago and that got them to stop asking.

But he found himself crying in the shower that evening, trying his best not to make any noise as sobs wracked his body and it got harder and harder to breathe.

The only thing that snapped him out of it was the knowledge that Eddie would want him to go back downstairs to be with the kids. He wouldn’t want to see Steve like this.

He kissed his fingertips and pressed them to his tattoo, just like he’d done every single day since he got it.

And then he went downstairs to be with the kids.

His one rule during sleepovers at his house was he still go to sleep in his own bed. Sometimes Robin would join him, but most of the time, he slept alone.

He couldn’t sleep.

He could feel the exhaustion deep in his bones, but every time he closed his eyes and tried to drift, he’d get an overwhelming feeling of being watched.

His eyes would open and he’d look around, confused and frustrated.

And nothing would be there.

Which was good, great even. He didn’t want there to be anyone or anything there. But he did want an explanation for this feeling.

He sat up in his bed and sighed.

Maybe he could-

Something was definitely in his bathroom. The door had been closed earlier, like it always was, and now it was halfway open.

The light was off.

Steve stood from his bed silently, crept to the bathroom with his nail bat raised, and considered what would happen if he died up here.

“That’s a depressing thought even for your melodramatics, sweetheart.”

Steve barely resisted screaming at Eddie’s voice.

“Oh god. I’ve finally fuckin’ lost it,” he said as he turned the bathroom light on.

“I dunno. You still got it, baby. Even if you lost some weight in your ass.”

Eddie, or something that looked and talked like Eddie, was sitting on the sink in the bathroom.

“I did like those little swim trunks, though. Hope you wear those again for me.”

“What the fuck.”

“You know, that’s exactly what I said when I woke up alive. Kinda thought I was dying. Imagine my surprise when I didn’t.”

Steve held his bat tighter.

“Eddie? How?”

Eddie hopped off the sink and stepped closer, slowly, so he wouldn’t scare Steve.

“Not sure. But it’s not the craziest thing that’s happened.” Eddie wanted to touch him, Steve could tell. His hands were clenching into fists to resist. “I know I’m not human, but I’m close enough, I think.”

“Close enough for what?”

“To love you.”

Steve dropped the bat and fell against Eddie, burying his face in his neck and breathing him in, not caring about the dirt or sweat or grime clinging to his skin.

It was Eddie, and he’d take him any way he could have him.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’ve been trying to get back here for so long.” Eddie’s arms held him tight enough to bruise. “Won’t happen again, won’t leave you again.”

Steve’s sobs were loud, but trying to contain them physically pained him. He’d been in enough pain for months. He had to let these out.

He felt Eddie waving his hands behind him, but then heard Robin’s rambling and decided to turn.

“-and he’s been distraught for months but didn’t tell me anything and then I saw his tattoo earlier and I thought, well, must just be a joke you guys had. And then I was like, no, can’t be, because you barely spoke. Or at least I thought you did. Clearly I’m wrong. I’m super wrong. Wrongest I’ve ever been maybe.”

“Robs.” Steve’s choked voice silenced her. “You know how I told you to go for it with Nancy because I really didn’t have feelings for her?”

“I don’t see how this is relevant, but yeah.”

“She protected me, both of us, really, so we could be together. Offered to pretend to date me so no one would get suspicious.”

“Steve. Steve Harrington. You had a beard?”

Eddie snorted. “I know you said she was funny, but I’m pretty she’s my second favorite human now.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I’ve been with Eddie for forever. I mean, since we were kids practically.”

Robin was silent. A rare thing for her.

“Robin?”

“Sorry, just taking this in.”

“Yeah, Eddie being alive is a lot-“

“Not that. That is gonna come a lot later once I stop and think about the fact that he’s some kind of zombie.” Robin leaned against the doorway. “The fact that I came out to my best friend and he didn’t return the favor. That is queer code, Steve.”

Eddie laughed, and Steve let out another sob. He’d missed him so much, missed his laugh, his arms around him, his heartbeat-

“Eds. Eddie.” Steve lifted his head and pressed both hands to his chest. “You-“

“Ah. So I don’t seem to have a heartbeat anymore. As far as I can tell, I did actually die.” Eddie shrugged as if this news wasn’t absolutely insane. “So my best guess is vampire since I prefer blood to brains. But I can get by without it for a pretty long time.”

“How long?”

“Well, I haven’t had any since the day I woke up. Which is a few months according to your calendar.”

Robin held her hands up. “I’m going. Good luck. The kids are gonna flip.”

“Do not tell them. Not yet.”

Steve needed tonight, needed to have Eddie to himself before everyone else stole it for a while. He wanted to be selfish for the first time in a very long time. He knew Robin would understand.

“Sure thing. But you’re gonna have to be quiet. You’re lucky none of them heard you crying.”

Steve nodded and curled back into Eddie, placing a kiss against his neck.

“Glad you’re back Eddie,” she said as she left.

“I need a shower,” Eddie said. “Think it’ll wake the kids?”

“Nah. They slept through a tree falling in the yard last month during a storm. Just need to be quick,” Steve pulled away to start grabbing what he’d need for a shower, but Eddie pulled him back on, running his nose along his neck and sending chills down his spine.

“You wanna join me?” He asked.

“Of course I do. But we won’t be quick if I join you,” Steve smiled.

A real smile. One he realized he hadn’t had on his face since spring break.

“You wanna wait in bed for me, then?” Eddie beamed back at him.

“Can I stay in here? I don’t-“ Steve sighed. “I don’t wanna leave you.”

Eddie’s smile softened into something endeared. “Yeah, sweetheart. You can stay. Talk to me. Tell me what I missed.”

Steve told him about everything he could while he showered away the Upside Down grime, watching his shadow behind the glass door of the shower to make sure it never disappeared.

They made sure the bedroom door was locked before crawling into bed together, Steve laying on top of Eddie like he always did before.

He was heavier, but Eddie never cared.

Steve slept so long, Eddie had no choice but to go downstairs in the morning so no one would wake him up.

The chaos that ensued was nothing short of overwhelming, but Eddie didn’t mind.

He was happy to back with all the kids, even if they asked incredibly inappropriate questions about his body to find out what he was.

When Steve finally came down, he was still half asleep and barely registered the open-mouth stares of everyone as he came up to Eddie and rested his head on his chest, wrapped his arms around his waist.

Eddie smiled down at him and kissed the top of his head.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“Morning, baby.”

“Sunshine?!” Dustin yelled.

“Baby?!” Mike yelled louder.

“Make them go away,” Steve sighed against his neck.

“You don’t wanna explain?” Eddie asked him, half joking.

“Not today. Scare them or something.”

“You think Eddie can scare us? We’ve all almost died!” Lucas said.

“Fine. Eddie and I are together, have been forever. The tattoo on me is our initials. Get out of my house.”

The kids just stared at them in silence until Steve finally turned from Eddie and put his hands on his hips.

“I wasn’t asking. Get out.”

The kids scrambled to leave, making promises (threats) to come back soon.

Robin waved as she walked out with them, throwing them both a wink and knowing smile.

“So how long do you think we have until they come back?” Eddie asked, rocking them back and forth gently.

“Few hours maybe.”

“I can do a lot in a few hours,” Eddie nipped at Steve’s ear, making him shiver and laugh.

“You got super strength with your new life?” Steve grinned at him.

“I wouldn’t call it super, but I could definitely carry you back to bed.”

Steve jumped up and wrapped his legs around Eddie’s waist, arms around his neck.

“Carry me to bed, then, Eds.”

“Anything your heart desires, Stevie.”

[anne-chloe]

Imagine : Peter chooses you to be the Lost Boys’ mother

Summary : Peter Pan is fed up of hearing the younger Lost Boys cry for their mothers at night. When his shadow steals a 6 year old boy, Peter commands the shadow to take the boys sister too. You.

Peter Pan x Reader

Warning : manipulation, toxic behaviour, kidnapping

You could remember it like it was yesterday.

The shadow that crept in through your little brother’s bedroom. It had moved with such inhuman speed that it just didn’t seem possible. You had tried to protect Martin from being kidnapped into the night, but you were unaware of its intentions to take you too.

And so you were taken to Neverland, a world where children would never grow up. A world where an immortal boy ruled with cruelty and an iron fist.

Peter had greeted you with a smile so sinister it made you nauseous. “Welcome to Neverland,” he said with a chuckle, “the boys have been waiting for you.”

You had followed him, with Martin holding your hand, all the way back to his camp. There were boys of various ages scattered around a campfire, all talking amongst themselves, some soaking up the quiet and others causing chaos.

But the moment Peter stepped beyond the tree line, silence fell. The Lost Boys stood to attention and watched as Peter approached. “Boys, I promised you a mother, and I’ve picked the finest one.”

You.

You were to be their mother.

You rejected the responsibility at first. You stood your ground and you argued with Peter. “I’m not staying here, and neither is Martin. We have a mother at home, and you stole us from her.”

Peter closed the gap between you and him, his smile dropping and his brows furrowing into a deep, irritated frown. “Unlucky for you, no one leaves Neverland without my permission. I chose you to be their mother. So be a good girl and play the role.” Peter then looked to Martin, his green eyes glowing with something sinister and unrecognisable. “Or else there’ll be consequences.”

You hesitantly stepped into the role. The older Lost Boys weren’t fussed about calling you their mother, which you honestly were grateful for. But as time went on, and the days turned to weeks, and soon into months, none of the Lost Boys addressed you by your name.

“Mother,” Devin called out one evening. He held up his hand to reveal a squirrel he had caught during his hunt, a proud smile on his face. “I know you asked for rabbit, but none of them fell into my trap. Will a squirrel be okay for dinner?”

You gratefully plucked the squirrel from his hand. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Mother, I’m hungry,” Tommy whined, his hands holding his stomach as he stepped towards the campfire. “How much longer until we eat?”

You stirred the pot of stew carefully, it’s delicious aromas filling the evening air. “Soon, Tommy. Have patience, sweetie.”

“Mother?”

Martins voice was enough to make you choke on air.

You stopped stirring the stew and turned slowly to peer at your younger brother. He stood amongst the Lost Boys, his eyes large and innocent. “What did you just call me?” You slowly asked, your heart feeling incredibly heavy in your chest.

Martin stepped closer, his head tilting to the side, like he was confused. “Mother,” he repeated, sounding certain of himself.

“Martin…” you whispered, reaching your hands out and gently taking him by the arms. You knelt down so you were eye-level with him. “I’m your sister. I’m not your mother.”

Martin frowned, conflicted. “Then who is my mother?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but found the words stuck in your throat. The desperate, confused expression only served to shatter your heart completely, and you didn’t have the courage to stomp on his tangled thoughts.

You dropped the conversation and finished preparing dinner. You ensured all the boys were fed before seeking out Peter, who was a small distance from the camp and overlooking the bay from a great height.

You approached him, hands wringing your dress nervously. “Peter?” You called out, hesitant and fearful for how the conversation would end. “I… I need to speak with you.”

Peter, who was perched on a branch high in a tree, turned his gaze downwards to look at you. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “What is it, [Name]?” He asked.

You were unsure of where to start. You inhaled deeply to calm your nerves. “I want to go home.”

Peter’s smile dropped into a frown. He slowly dropped from the tree, landing effortlessly in front of you. His head tilted to the side, like he was a confused puppy, but you knew better than to mistake his expressions for anything other than cruel.

“You are home,” Peter pointed out.

You gently shook your head. “No, I mean I want to go home to the place you took me from. I want to go back to my own mother.”

Peter moved closer to you, his frown deepening. “And why would you want that?”

You struggled to keep steady. You fought the urge to shuffle back, to maintain a safe distance. But Peter would never take you seriously if you showed any fear. “I miss my mother, Peter. Martin, he…” you hesitated, struggled to finish the sentence.

Peter raised a curious brow. You didn’t even need to finish the explanation, because it was suddenly as though Peter knew anyway. His smile returned, and a deep chuckle vibrated his chest. “Oh, I see. Martin called you mother, didn’t he?”

Your silence only confirmed Peters guess.

“Isn’t that wonderful?” Peter pressed, smirking playfully at you. “The boys adore you. I couldn’t have picked a better mother if I tried.”

“I don’t want to be Martins mother,” you whispered defiantly. Your fists shook at your sides, though you were unsure if it was from fear or frustration. “He doesn’t remember our mother. It’s not fair.”

Peter scoffed. “Life isn’t fair. Get used to it.”

Peter turned to walk away, a clear indication that he was finished with the conversation. But you reached out and grabbed his hand, forcing him to stay and look at you.

“I’m begging you, Peter. Let me go home. Let me take Martin back home.”

Peter moved close to you, his nose almost touching yours. Your breath hitched in your throat as his eyes, so cold and cruel, bore into your own. “Nobody leaves Neverland without my permission. You aren’t leaving, ever. You’re the mother to my lost boys. You’re going to be their mother forever, whether you like it or not. And if you continue to defy me, I’ll lock you in a cage and throw away the key, and you’ll never see Martin again. Do you understand?”

You gasped and stumbled away, a sob catching in your throat from the cruel threat. “I understand,” you choked out, tears appearing in your eyes. “I won’t ask again. I promise.”

Peter snickered a laugh. “Good. Perhaps you should return to the lost boys now, before they start calling for their mother again, hmm?”

[cosyvelvetorchid]

Bucktommy prompt

Out on a call Buck accidentally says his last name is:

'Kinard. No...wait, BUCK...BUCKLEY!'

and the whole team hears it.

He's super embarrassed because he's only been dating Tommy for a couple of months, and the 118 rib him about it for the rest of the shift.

This one made me laugh so much! Thank you!

You can send any bucktommy, saltommy or Tommy prompts to my ask 🩶

*****

5 months, 14 days and 18 hours. That's how long Evan Buckley had been dating Tommy Kinard. And yes he had counted. It had been both a whirlwind and the calmest relationship he had ever been in. Every day felt like the flirty, giddy honeymoon phase, and simultaneously with the ease of a decade together.

Buck knew he had a tendency to get ahead of himself; to go all in with what he wanted or was passionate about, but Tommy had the, quite frankly magical, ability to pull Buck back down to earth without making him feel like an over excited child. That didn't stop how from secretly imagining a future with Tommy of course.

The 118 arrived on scene of a scaffold collapse to find a construction worker on the ground underneath a large piece of wood.

"Chim, Hen you assess him, I'll speak to the foreman."

"Uh that's me." The portly middle-aged aged man standing above his injured colleague called out. "Colin Denison." He reached out his to shake Bobby's hand.

"Captain Nash." The man then held out his hand to Buck.

"Kinard.. No wait! BUCK! BUCKLEY!"

Bobby, Hen, Chim and Eddie's eyes all shot to Buck, whose face burned with the fire of a thousand sun's. He made a silent prayer for more scaffolding to fall and land directly onto him. Only death could take away this level of embarrassment.

"What did you just say?" Eddie asked with a smirk.

"Nothing" Buck replied quickly.

"Did you just say you're name was-" Chim tried to ask but Buck cut him off.

"Nope." A lie. An obvious, slap in your face, kick you in the crotch lie. He knew it, they knew, God himself knew it. He turned his attention to Bobby and the foreman and tried to ignore the stifled giggles behind him.

"Im just glad the rest of my guys were at lunch. If they have all been up there.." Colin shook his head. "Is Dave gonna be okay?" He fielded the question toward Hen and Chim.

"Couple of lacerations, definitely a broken wrist and he's gonna have some gnarly bruises, but he'll be fine."

"Hey Tomm- sorry Buck.. can you bring the gurney." Hen teased. Buck shot her a glare before walking back to the ambulance, coming back a moment later with the gurney.

"Thanks, Tommy." Chim sang.

"Come on guys." Buck pleaded, wishing another sinkhole would appear and swallow him whole. Or maybe a lightning strike. Hell, being on a capsized cruise ship would be better than being here right now.

"He's stabilised Cap. We just need to get all this crap off of him." Eddie informed him. "You wanna help Tommy?" He added. Buck groaned.

"Hey guys let's keep it professional - we have a job to do."

"THANK YOU Cap." Buck praised narrowing his eyes at everyone. Cap pointed to the large piece of wood covering the man.

"Eddie, Hen, Chimney, you take that side. Kinard you're with me."

"Bobby!"

***

Buck was more grateful than ever for his shift to be done with. Even more so that he was headed straight to Tommy's. He let himself in, kicked off his shoes - stopping to admire how warm it made him feel looking at both his and Tommys shoes sat side by side - and walked into the kitchen where Tommy was busy preparing dinner.

"Hey babe." He was stirring some sauce in pot as Buck walked over and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Good shift?"

"It was fine." Buck answered plainly. He had already humiliated himself enough today.

"Nothing happened?" Tommy asked.

"Nope." Buck said popping the 'P'. Tommy stopped starting and turned to face him.

"Really? Nothing? Nothing at all?" Buck noticed the glint in his eye.

"Who told you?!"

"Who do you think?" Tommy laughed. "I don't think Chims ever texted me that much before. Actually, it was mostly voice notes of him and Hen laughing."

"Oh god." Buck held his head in his hands as embarrassment soared through him. It was bad enough everyone else heard him but now that Tommy knew about it..

Tommy laughed and walked over to him, putting his arms around his waist.

"Hey." He said, wanting Buck to look at him, which he slowly did.

"Look, Evan.. were not near that step quite yet, bu-" Bucks head went down again, and he groaned. "But-" He said louder so Buck would look at him again. "I like that the idea of it doesn't freak you out. It's.. its actually kinda nice."

"Y-Yeah? You don't think I'm an idiot that's going overboard again?"

"Oh I definitely think that," He said with a laugh "but.." He placed soft kisses onto Bucks forehead, cheek, birthmark and finally his lips. "..I happen to love that about you." Buck sighed with relief.

"Although, what if I wanted to be a Buckley?" He asked half teasing.

"Are you kidding? I don't want to be a Buckley, so you're definitely not."

"Oh is that so?" Tommy questioned kissing him on the lips again.

"Yep." Buck smiled kissing him back.

"Noted." Tommy stated. "Now, come taste this sauce." He took Bucks hand and led him to the stove.

[hayleythesugarbowl]

spencer agnew ideaaaa

reader is tommy’s friend from mythical and meets spencer at a party they end up being found in a closet kissing???

Spilled Punch || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: when you agreed to go to a smosh party with your best friend tommy, you didn’t imagine enjoying yourself very much. you also didn’t imagine you’d end up making out with spencer in the coat closest 🤭

word count: 3k

warnings: none

a/n: hello love! i hope this is what u wanted—you said tommy and mythical but and i wasn’t sure if you meant trevor but either way, because you said tommy (and because i am not super familiar with mythical) i scrapped the mythical part and went with tommy’s friend. hope that was ok darling, enjoy! also female reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Thanks again for agreeing to be my plus one to this thing,” Tommy said to you as you both walked from his car towards the house ahead.

     “Anytime,” you answered, “But you have to promise not to leave me.”

     You had been hesitant at first when Tommy asked you to attend a Smosh party with him, in lieu of his boyfriend who was away for the week. 

     Not because you didn’t want to help Tommy out. He was your best friend and you’d known him since you were both in diapers.

     But because you didn’t no anyone here. Not a single person. And you’d be lying if you said that didn’t scare you just a little bit.

     You’d heard stories from Tommy about his coworkers of course— Amanda this and Shayne that—but that didn’t mean you actually knew any of them. 

     “Are you kidding?” Tommy let out a laugh, “Leave you? And have to socialize with people alone? I think not.”

     That might have been why you were such good friends.

     You smiled at him as you drew closer to the home, a sign that read ‘Welcome, Smosh’ greeting you at the entryway.

     According to Tommy, this party was thrown to celebrate Ian and Anthony’s ownership of Smosh. You hoped you dressed right for that occasion. You weren’t sure what outfits said congratulations YouTuber businessmen!

      Tommy knocked on the door and the man who must’ve been Ian—he was hosting the event—answered.

      “Hey, Tommy! Glad you could make it,” he said. 

      “As if I would miss a chance to see if Anthony was actually real,” Tommy joked.

     “Heard that,” the man who you guessed was Anthony peeked out from behind Ian, stirring a drink.

     “He’s not a myth!” Tommy exclaimed.

     You cleared your throat not-so-subtly.

     “Right,” Tommy started, “Ian, Anthony, this is my friend (Y/n).”

     You shook both of their hands in turn. “It’s nice to meet you. Congratulations on the whole buying Smosh thing.”

     “Wait, we bought Smosh?” Ian joked, “Anthony, can I talk to you for a minute?”

     “Wasn’t me,” Anthony teased, “I thought you must’ve.”

     You decided you liked both of them as Tommy led you through the doorway. 

      You were met with a large, spacious living room with decorations and tables dedicated to drinks and refreshments.

     You were surprised to see that you were some of the first people to arrived. You’d figured you’d be somewhat late—because Tommy had spent an hour making you rate each of his outfit options before finally selecting one. 

     Then again, you weren’t exactly surprised you were early—Tommy’s driving still scared you a little bit, but, hey, at least you got places quicker.

     “Tommy!” You heard a voice call, and you turned to find a woman standing by the refreshment table and waving your friend over. 

     “Hey Angela,” he called back, walking towards her. You followed. 

     “Angela,” Tommy started, “This is—”

     “(Y/n)?” She interrupted. “Yeah, seen her on your instagram. Do you know if there’s gonna be a cake?”

     “Stalker,” Tommy coughed into his hand and you just laughed.

     At least someone here knew who you were.

      “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Angela,” you told her.

      “Ditto,” she shot back. “Nice shirt.”

      “Thanks,” you beamed. Maybe your outfit choice had been a win after all.

      “Hey, are you good if I see if there’s a little boys room around here?” Tommy asked you. “I’ll just be a minute.”

      “Go for it,” you told him, “Have fun.”

      “I’ll try,” he said, walking down the hall.

      You were left with Angela. She was currently eating an olive off of a stick. You were pretty sure those were supposed to go in drinks, but who were you to stop her fun. 

     You turned your attention to the front door where more people were starting to file in now.

     “So,” Angela began, “You wanna see if there’s a cake here?”

     But you were distracted by the man who had just entered the house.

     He was wearing a blue-and-white striped button down tucked into dark jeans, a black blazer overtop it. You watched as he greeted the hosts and began talking to other partygoers.

     “Hey,” you asked Angela, “Who’s that?”

     You tried to point out the man as discreetly as you could. 

     “Spencer?” She said loudly. You winced, glad the party had gotten louder. “What about him? You know him?”

     “No, I just—He’s cute,” you confessed, blushing.

     She smiled knowingly. “Oh, got it. Want me to call him over here? Spencer!”

     “No!” You interrupted her. “No, don’t do that.”

     But it was too late. The man—Spencer—must've heard Angela, because he smiled and waved before heading in your direction.

     “Hey Ange, what’s up?” He asked her.

     “Nothing much,” she rocked back and forth on her feet. “Hey! Have you met (Y/n)?”

     Spencer turned to you, his gaze landing on first your face and then your outfit and then back to your face. 

     You willed yourself not to blush. He was even more attractive up close and the way his eyes bore into yours didn’t exactly do anything to make him less appealing.

     “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Spencer said, “Do you work at Smosh?”

     “No,” you answered, “I’m just a plus one.”

      “I knew I would’ve remembered you,” he said, picking up on of Angela’s olives. 

      Now you could do nothing to stop the heat rushing to your cheeks.

     “I—” you got out, “I’m just here with Tommy.”

     “What about me?” Tommy asked, coming up behind you. “Oh, hey Spencer.”

     “Sup man,” Spencer addressed Tommy. “I was just meeting your girlfriend.”

     Angela snorted. 

     “Not my girlfriend,” Tommy rolled his eyes at Spencer. 

     “His loss,” Spencer turned to you, mock whispering, “You could do better anyway.”

     “I’m going to pretend that wasn’t offensive,” Tommy said, picking up one of Angela’s olives before gagging and spitting it out.

     “I forgot I hate olives,” he said through coughs.

     “Well,” Spencer said, “I can’t be near someone with such bad taste in—vegetables? fruits? whatever the hell olives are—so I’m going to bounce. It was nice meeting you (Y/n). Congratulations on the breakup.”

     Spencer gestured between you and Tommy before walking away. You let out a breath.

     “Ok, is it just me or was he totally flirting with you?” Angela whispered. 

     “What?” You raised an eyebrow. 

     “That was flirting if I’ve ever seen it. Tommy, back me up.”

     “As far as straight people flirting goes…yeah. I’d say he was,” Tommy said, considering. 

     You blushed again. Had he been flirting with you? He had seemed…friendly, at least. You were already sad that he was gone. You liked his quick wit and easy conversation skills.

     And the whole finding him really attractive thing didn’t hurt.

     “Is it warm in here or is it just me?” You asked them. 

     “I think it’s Spencer,” Angela sing-songed. 

     “Very funny,” you crossed your arms. “But actually, I think I’m going to see if there’s a coat closet or something.”

     You took off your jacket and headed down the hall. You stopped at the first door you found—it looked closet-like enough.

     Judging from the row of sweaters and coats that greeted you, your guess had been correct. 

     You began to hang your jacket, stopping when you spotted the blazer Spencer had been wearing.

     You imagined what it would be like to wear it. Not now, of course—you swore it was like a hundred degrees in there—but you pictured yourself as Spencer’s girlfriend, sharing clothes, his scent engulfing you.

     You snapped yourself out of your fantasy. You had just met this man. You hardly knew him. 

     You quickly hung up your coat, closing the door and taking a minute to collect yourself before heading back out into the party.

     Definitely not thinking about seeing Spencer again. 

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     You had come to the conclusion that a small army must’ve arrived in the short time it took you to discard your layers. 

     Apparently it was the style to arrive fashionably late, because the party had almost doubled.

     Someone had begun blasting music and it was now so crowded that you couldn’t find Tommy amongst the partygoers.

     “(Y/n)!” You heard someone call. 

     After a few seconds of scanning the room, you found Angela waving her arms to get your attention. 

     You squeezed through people to get to her.

     “Are you looking for Tommy?” She had to yell to be heard over the music and chatter.

     “Yes!” You shouted back.

     “I think I saw him over by the appetizers! Don’t bother looking for a cake though, there isn’t a single slice in this place!” She pointed in the direction she was indicating and you began to make your way over there, bumping into people on your way.

      You had just spotted Tommy a few yards away when you saw a flash of movement and suddenly red liquid dripped down your front.

     You looked up in confusion to find Spencer directly in front of you, a look of shock on his face as he tried to figure out how he had been pushed forwards. 

     “My bad,” he shouted, looking down at the now-mostly-empty cup in his hand. “Don’t suppose we could blame this on whoever shoved me?” 

     You looked down at the dark liquid already forming stains on your light blue top, the fabric clinging to your body.

     You shrugged. “What they don’t know can’t hurt them. I’ll transfer my grudge—and the 40 dollars this shirt cost—to whoever shoved you.”

     Spencer smiled. “Phew. Glad we got that figured out—I almost had to pay 40 bucks for a shirt.”

     “Bold for someone who technically still owes me,” you put your hands on your hips.

     “Sorry,” he put his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground. “Believe it or not I’ve  actually never spilled punch on a pretty girl before, so I’m kinda playing this by ear.”

     You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling the room get warmer at his use of the word ‘pretty’.

     “I should probably go change out of this,” you gestured to the material hugging your torso. “Good thing I brought a jacket.”

     “I’d feel like a jerk if I didn’t offer to come with you,” he said.

     “Oh, um, thanks for the offer but—”

     “No, I insist,” Spencer cut you off, leaning closer and saying quieter, “Don’t tell anyone, but in not a huge party person.”

     “Neither am I,” you confided back. “After you.”

     You filed in behind Spencer as you made your way to the hall. It got gradually quieter as you walked farther and farther away from the center of the gathering.

     You became aware of the fact that you and Spencer were going somewhere together. Alone. 

     Your pulse picked up and you told yourself the dampness though felt was just the punch soaking through your shirt.

     Once you reached the closet, Spencer hung back and let you open the door.

     “How many coats can one party have,” Spencer eyed the row, shaking his head.

     “Don’t act like you didn’t contribute,” you said, looking for your jean jacket.

     “Technically—” He stopped abruptly, looking at you with a smirk. “How did you know I have a jacket in here? Creep.”

     You blushed for the millionth time that night. You’d forgotten when you said it that he didn’t exactly know you’d been eyeing his coat earlier.

     “More like observant. You were wearing it when Angela introduced us,” you covered.

     “But you don’t know I put it in here,” he raised an eyebrow. 

     “Where else would you have put it? The bathroom?” 

     “This coming from the girl wearing punch for a shirt,” Spencer gestured to your top.

     “And who’s fault is that?” 

     “Random party-shover, remember? I thought we agreed that’s where the fault lies.”

     “How could I forget,” you stepped into the small room, still digging for your jacket. Was it possible someone had moved it in the short time you’d left it alone?

     “Wow, it’s so much quieter in here,” you said, ducking underneath the long shawls and sport coats. 

     Spencer stepped in with you, and you realized how close you were to him. 

     “Watch this,” he said, shutting the door  and drowning out all noise. 

     It was calming, the break from the loud chaos. Unfortunately, you couldn’t fully enjoy the calm because the whole being in a tiny closet with Spencer thing didn’t exactly put your nerves at ease.

     You turned around, still searching for your new shirt.

     “Found it,” Spencer said, and you turned to find him standing next to you and skimming through the rack.

     “My jacket?”

     “No, the one I’m going to take home!” He pulled out a long, orange-and-purple shawl that looked like something your great-aunt would have worn.

     “Good call, brings out your eyes,” you teased. “Oh, here’s my coat!”

     You pulled it off the hanger, pausing.

     “Spencer?”

     “Yeah?”

     “I kind of need to change,” you said.

     “Oh, right,” he looked vaguely embarrassed. “I’ll just—”

     He tried to turn around but got caught in the slew of coats. You giggled as a large sleeve landed on his head. 

     “New plan,” he finished, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “My lids are sealed.”

     You smiled, even though he couldn’t actually see you, pulling your shirt off and dropping it to the ground. 

     It was odd, changing in front of him. Even though you knew his eyes were closed, it still felt like he was watching you and you hurried to put the jacket on, buttoning it up quickly. 

     You looked at Spencer, who was rocking back and forth on his heels. He looked so vulnerable and respectful—and mildly uncomfortable.

     Even though you hardly knew him, it felt like you had been acquainted longer. You couldn't attempt to deny your attraction to him. Just in the couple hours you had known him, you already thought he was kind and funny and charming and—

     You watched him standing there, eyes still closed. You took a step closer to him, almost involuntarily.

     “(Y/n)? Are you trying on all the coats?” His voice brought you back to reality. 

     “Just the old lady shawl,” you said.

     “Well, in that case, you have to let me open my eyes.”

     “I already took it off, you’re too late,” you teased. “It was too sexy to be seen by any eyes other than my own.”

     Spencer ran his tongue over his bottom lip. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

     “That I believe,” he almost whispered. 

     You were silent for a moment, before taking another small step towards Spencer.

     You took a deep breath. 

     “(Y/n)? Can I open my eyes now?”

     You didn’t answer him, closing the distance between you until you were inches apart.

     You took in his features and before you could talk yourself out of it you leaned towards him and placed your lips on his. You felt him tense up.

     “You can open them now,” you whispered. 

     Spencer’s stunned expression lasted only a moment before a heat filled his eyes and suddenly he was kissing you back. 

     He grabbed your waist with one hand, the other going to rest in your hair as he kissed you harder. 

     You wrapped your arms around his neck as your back found the wall, engulfing you in the sea of coats. 

     “God, (Y/n),” Spencer mumbled against your lips. 

     You gripped him harder. This moment was everything you imagined it would be. This was so much better than the party.

     You felt like you could do this for the rest of the night. Because, damn Spencer was a good kisser. 

     You pressed up against him, deepening the kiss as your nails dug into his shoulder.

     Neither one of you noticed the closet door opening.

     “(Y/n) was right, it is hot in here,” a voice was saying, but you and Spencer were too wrapped up in each other to notice.

     “They can afford an indoor fountain but not a air cond—”

     You heard a cry of surprise as the closet door opened fully. You and Spencer pulled apart, gasping as you looked up at Tommy, who looked just as horrified to see you as you were to see him.

     “Well,” Tommy started, “I was just saying how hot it was out there, but it seems it’s much hotter in here.”

     You and Spencer looked at each other, grinning sheepishly. You were still breathless. You noticed you were standing on a coat that must’ve been knocked from its hanger.

     “It’s kind of a long story,” you started.

     “Basically there’s some guy out there attacking people with punch,” Spencer finished, looking at you, eyes sparkling.

     “I’ll be on the lookout,” Tommy said, a confused look on his features. 

     You couldn’t stop smiling at Spencer.

     “Well,” Tommy clapped his hands together, “I guess I’ll—leave you to it. Have fun.”

     “And tell me all about it later,” he mock-whispered to you. 

     He started to shut the closet door before turning around.

     “Oh and (Y/n)?”

     “Yeah?”

     “Can you toss me my coat?” He gestured to the one that was currently under your foot. You hadn’t even recognized it as his in the dim lighting of the room.

     That, and you’d been a bit distracted. Your heart leapt just thinking about what Tommy had interrupted. Your hand found Spencer’s in the dark  

     “I thought you said it was hot out there?” You asked, throwing his sweater to him. 

     “It is,” he sighed, “But my keys are in the pocket.”

     You raised an eyebrow. 

     “Angela and I are going to go buy a cake.”

     “Does that woman think of anything else?” You laughed 

     “Pick us up some olives,” Spencer threw in, blinking up at him.

     “Why not,” Tommy shrugged, “let’s hit all the stores in California.”

     “You sure you won’t miss the party?” You asked him.

     “Nah, I was gonna bounce anyway. I accidentally shoved some guy pretty hard in the back earlier, but I don’t think he knows it was me. I don’t want to test my luck.”     

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this!! look out for more spencer fics in the near future 🫶 also bonus points if you found the himym reference 🤭

[zablife]

This Has to Stop

John Shelby x wife reader

Summary: John's dangerous work is taking a toll on him and your marriage so you confront him, demanding he spend more time at home. Torn between his loyalty to you and his brothers, John lashes out in frustration and you must ask yourself if it's time to give up on the man you love.

A/N: This was inspired by a request originally sent to the lovely @runnning-outof-time. Ty for trusting me with it, K!

Warnings: mention of drinking, pregnancy

The shrill ring of the telephone cut sharply into the quiet of the evening, trilling above the giggles of the children. Their little heads popped up one by one at the sound, looking to see if you would rise from the table to answer it. You'd allowed John to install the contraption on one condition, calls would never interrupt family time. Now that seemed to be a long lost promise, considering how often he used it himself to tell you he'd be home late.

"Y/n?" John's voice rasped at the end of the line. The way he drew out the syllables with a slight slur indicated his exhaustion and the pints he'd drunk with Arthur to tamper the stress of working for Tommy.

However, your sympathy was being sapped away with your dwindling patience. Constantly left to care for the children and keep a home he hardly saw, you'd had enough. "Let me guess....don't wait up?" you rushed out in a huffed breath.

John cleared his throat and you could imagine him shifting his weight awkwardly where he stood in the betting shop. Guilt dripped from his voice as he admitted,"Yeah, Tommy needs me to..."

"Do what you like," you snapped, unwilling to hear tonight's excuse for missing dinner and bedtime. "You always do," you added bitterly, slamming the receiver down.

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

You didn't see your husband until the sky began turning a watery blue violet, the growing light seeping around the curtains and across your bleary eyes which hadn't closed all night. You tried to convince yourself it was the energetic child in your belly that kept you from your rest, but you knew it was more likely the absence of John's warm body by your side.

John tiptoed into the bedroom in stocking feet, giving a small gasp of surprise when he noticed you watching his stealthy movements.

"Good morning," you sighed softly, arm outstretched toward him.

Relieved to hear the anger in your voice had dissipated to its usual dulcet melody, John approached. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, his large hand came to rest over your swollen stomach. He was rewarded with a sharp kick that made him break out in the lopsided grin you'd fallen in love with long ago.

"We missed you," you offered as he returned to unbuttoning his shirt.

"Fuck, I missed you," he admitted sadly, leaning in to kiss you with a tenderness that made you weepy.

John pulled away, hooking your chin with his finger to bring your gaze to his deep blue eyes. You'd nearly lost yourself in the comfort of his affection before he added softly, "Please don't cry. Things will get better."

Your brow furrowed at the empty promise you'd heard time and time again. "It will only be better once you stand up to your brother," you asserted.

His hand fell away from your face and a chill settled over you immediately. He clenched his fist at his side, frustration building in his chest as he whispered harshly, "Look, I don't have a choice."

You emitted a breathy note of disappointment as his posture grew rigid, jaw clenching tightly in profile.

He didn't even try to read your eyes, afraid to see the damage he was causing. Of course he knew his work was taking him away from you too often. It had become routine to slip out into the inky blackness as you snored softly, only to return to the same sight of crushing darkness. No light, no love to be felt, only the monotony of routine.

"You have a say in your own life," you reminded him. "Start by having a rest, hmm? What time is it anyway?" Your fingers deftly slipped into his pocket to retrieve his watch, a bit of paper falling out with it.

Even in the dim light, the stark contrast of the black star against the paper caught your eye. John reached for it at the same moment as you, but you'd already begun to read the ghastly instructions.

"What are you becoming?" you asked your husband.

"This is our business, we Shelbys," he reminded you, snatching the small note from your fingertips. As he spoke, your eyes drifted to his open shirt front and the scars splayed across his torso from a recent altercation in Chinatown.

"Turning you into Arthur, another mad dog to unleash on his enemies?," you argued.

John scrubbed a hand down his face, holding his temper with the children asleep on the other side of the thin wall.

However, as he rubbed his temples deep in thought, you could feel the tension growing, loyalties strained to the breaking point. He finally snapped, kicking the bedside table with a harsh thud.

Though it wasn't unusual for him to break things these days, your body jumped in surprise. You knew he could never hurt you or the children, but you were growing more concerned about his fraying nerves. Placing a hand to his shoulder to ground him, you felt the taut muscle beneath which held his burdens.

Despite your resentment of his predicament, your heart ached for your kind, loving husband. That was the man you attempted to coax out as you placed your cheek to his back. "You're a good man," you whispered reassuringly. "Don't let Tommy change that with his ambition and endless demands."

You felt him inhale a deep breath to quell the raging battle inside his head and you seized the moment to pull him into bed with you. Tugging at his shoulders lightly, you hummed soothingly to him as you gently commanded, "Lie down."

But to your dismay, he rebuffed you with a shake of his head. "I only came home to change...M sorry," he apologized quickly before standing to gather fresh clothes.

Staring at him in bewilderment, you rose from the bed to follow him about the room pleading, "You can't be serious! It's half five and you haven't slept or eaten."

John's hands trembled as he attempted to close a drawer, head hung low as he felt the effect of his sleep deprivation on his coordination. He couldn't allow you to glimpse weakness, however, resisting your soft embrace as he explained vaguely, "I have a duty."

"To family," you insisted, digging your nails into his forearm to stop him leaving.

"Yeah? Which family?" he returned so quickly he'd hardly realized the powerful meaning behind his words.

"I'll pretend you didn't just ask that," you mumbled numbly, face crumbling the moment he disappeared out the door.

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

The sun was still visible, if only a sliver above the roofline of the houses on Watery Lane, when John's boots came crashing down upon the cobblestones. Hurrying toward home, he gripped a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his fist, rehearsing an apology he knew was long overdue.

He was careful to remove his boots at the door and hang his hat and coat in their proper place for once instead of slinging them onto the floor haphazardly. He'd resolved to be a better husband to you, as well as a more present father.

You and the children deserved nothing less which is why he'd suddenly found the courage to disobey his brother. The black star remained etched in Tommy's diary. Perhaps Isaiah would be the one to dole out punishment in future, but it would never again be him. He'd made sure of it when he gathered his share from the company safe under Polly's watchful eye.

The plot of land and country house you'd always wanted was within his grasp and the idea of a peaceful life with you somewhere quiet flooded his mind. In fact, he was so preoccupied at the thought of you tending a garden and raising chickens, he hadn't noticed the missing items from the bedrooms.

However, as he searched each room, his heart began to claw at his throat. He quickly reasoned the house was too neat and tidy for there to have been foul play so there could only be one other explanation. His stomach dropped with deep foreboding settling into his gut just as the phone in the hall began to ring.

Startled back to reality by the harsh sound, he lifted the receiver to hear you greet him in a voice that seemed far too calm and removed. "If I'm reaching you then you know I've gone," you announced, trying to steady your voice against the emotion swelling in your chest. "You have a decision to make. Think carefully," you advised.

John didn't know what to say as he realized his worst fear had come true. The deafening silence of his empty home was quickly juxtaposed with the distant echo of children's voices in the background. He could only stand dumbly, listening to them babble away happily as a lump formed in his throat.

"Y/n, we have to talk about this," John urged, swallowing harshly as he realized the decision might not truly be his to make. "I told you things will be different and they will."

"No more empty promises, my love," you cautioned him with finality.

"Wait--" John cried out, afraid you'd hang up. "It's true, I've already made changes."

You bit your lip, willing the tears not to fall in front of your children. Staying firm you replied, "I hope so. I have to go."

"Tell me where you are and I'll come..." he began frantically before the line went dead. Throwing the phone against the wall, John slumped to the floor with his head in his hands. Then a sudden realization struck him, he'd heard Karl's voice as well.

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

As she opened the heavy front door, Ada's expression was a mixture of shock and disbelief. She hadn't expected her brother to come, yet here he was on her doorstep looking utterly disheveled.

He hadn't failed to notice the look of disappointment in her eye, feeling like a complete failure. "Please, I know she's here. Let me see my wife," John begged.

She moved aside the second she heard the desperation in her brother's voice, knowing he'd do the right thing. "She's in there," Ada pointed down the hall.

The approaching footsteps outside the parlor attracted your attention first as they didn't sound anything like the heels worn by Ada or the maids. Your eyes flicked to the doorknob as the handle slowly turned, the door swinging open slightly to reveal your panic-stricken husband.

He didn't speak as he captured you in his arms, breathing in your scent as his rough hand stroked over your hair and cheek. "Thought I'd lost you forever," he mumbled as he buried his head in your shoulder.

You relaxed against him, understanding this was his attempt at an apology. Pulling away to search his eyes, you found them glossy with unshed tears.

"Oh, John," you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheeks with your hands. "Tell me what you've chosen."

"You, always you," he promised. Taking your hands in his, he stroked over the badly bitten nails and swollen cuticles. "Is this my doing? All the worry?" he asked with a pained look.

Your lower lip began to wobble as you admitted, "I count your heartbeats at night when you're lying next to me because I don't know if they'll be your last..." You could no longer speak, the sob in your voice drowning out any other words.

However, it was all your husband needed to hear, the affection you still held for him giving him hope. Tucking your hair behind your ear gently so he could gaze into your eyes, he made a new vow. "I'm taking you away from here for good. A life in the country...with the chickens you've always wanted," he professed. "If you'll still have me?"

John loved the way your eyes sparkled in that moment and you couldn't deny the dose of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you allowed yourself to consider his proposal. A flutter of kicks inside you made you aware you hadn't given John an answer. Releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding, you assured him, "Of course...that's all I've ever wanted."

A wide grin overtook his face at that moment, eager to tell you more about his plan for a new life and hear your ideas in return. "By the time the baby's born, we'll be settled," he told you, placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

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

John's promise was finally fulfilled and in the spring, you stood together on a wide expanse of land. Looking out over your kingdom, your newest addition gurgled from the safety of John's protective arms.

"I think she likes it here," he told you as his youngest daughter grasped his pinky. He hadn't left her side since the day she was born, present for every milestone.

You surveyed the children running barefoot through the garden, your warm gaze finally resting upon your husband in serene repose. As a satisfied smile graced your lips, you agreed, "We all do. Oh John, we did it!"

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

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@an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction

[guess-my-next-obsession]

the alchemy | ii. the moment

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter rating: Mature [18+ only, minors dni, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), reader is described as curvy & only has one parent--all else is open to interpretation (we are POC friendly over here okay!!), one mention of f!masturbation but it’s super brief]

summary: you go over to the miller house to spend the afternoon with sarah, only to find that she's spending the summer with her mom. when joel insists you stay, things get flirty and then awkward and then flirty and then what the fuck.

wc: 3.6k

the masterlist | next chapter

Sarah had begged you to come over to their house next door to watch her at the pool, given that Joel was busy upstairs renovating his master bathroom with his younger brother, Tommy, and you were more than happy to oblige her request. Armed with a book, sunscreen, and a bag of chips, you made your way over and waited on the front porch for one of the Millers to answer. 

Luck seemed to evade you—or perhaps shine down on you, depending on how you wanted to look at it—as it was Joel who answered the door. He looked as good as ever in a paint-stained white t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, his hair damp with sweat and curling at the nape of his neck. His gaze traveled up and down your body, taking in the relatively modest one-piece swimsuit and unbuttoned denim shorts you’d chosen for today’s activities with something one could only perceive as appreciation. 

“Hey,” you managed, offering him a pathetic excuse of a smile. “Sarah invited me over to swim.”

“Oh,” he said, brows lacing together. “She didn’t text you?”

You shook your head, your confusion mimicking his own. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just that her mom called last night and asked her if she wanted to spend the rest of the summer with her, so she’s gone now until the middle of August,” he said, his tone giving away that he wasn’t exactly pleased by the last minute invitation. “But you’re, uh, still welcome to use the pool if you want. I’m just upstairs workin’ on the bathroom.”

He didn’t say anything about Tommy, which could only mean he was the one who was dropping Sarah off at her mom’s. And that meant that Joel was the only one around today, your dad off visiting his girlfriend in San Antonio for the rest of the weekend. 

Was it really a smart idea to spend your day around the one man you’d found yourself fantasizing about in the last year? Probably not. But it beat sitting at home sorting through your piles of keep or donate. 

“Yeah, sure,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “If that’s alright with you. I wouldn’t want to impose or anything.”

“No, you’re fine,” he assured, stepping aside to let you in. You held your breath as you walked past him, convinced that if you caught another whiff of that warm cologne he always wore, you’d be right back under the spell that caused you to act so awkward last night at dinner. “Did you have lunch yet? I was thinkin’ of grillin’ some burgers.” 

He followed closely behind you as you made your way through the living room towards the kitchen. 

“No, but that sounds good,” you said, setting your things on the kitchen island as he walked over to the fridge to grab himself a beer. 

“You want one?” he asked, holding up an extra bottle. 

“Freshman and sophomore year ruined beer for me,” you admitted with a laugh, bringing a slight smile to his face. “Water’s fine.”

“Alright,” he said through a chuckle, grabbing you a bottle and passing it over to you before taking out some thawed burger patties. “How’s it being a college graduate?”

“Nice,” you said, shrugging. “Don’t have to worry about deadlines or finals anymore. But…I don’t know. I guess it’s just a little hard moving back in after living on my own for so long.” 

“Yeah, I can imagine,” he said, cutting through the plastic wrapping of the pack of meat. “But your dad seems happy to have you back.”

“Yeah, he’s being a mother hen about it,” you said, chuckling. “I had to tell him it was fine to go visit his girlfriend about twenty times before he finally decided to go.”

“Oh, is that where he’s off to? I saw him leavin’ earlier this mornin’.”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a swig from your water. “Off to visit Vic. Have you met her?”

“Yeah, couple times.” He glanced up at you as he washed his hands in the island sink, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Have you met her?”

“No,” you replied, scrunching your face up. “And I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. It’s only been a few years since my mom passed, and well…I just worry that I might be a bitch to her for no reason. Or worse, I’ll find a reason.” 

“She’s alright,” he assured. “A little quiet, a little conservative for my taste, but she ain’t the evil stepmom type from what I’ve seen.”

“I think I’m a little old to call her my stepmom,” you said, cringing at the idea. 

“And how old are you?” he asked, busying himself with seasoning the patties. “I’ve never really asked.”

“Twenty-four. Turning twenty-five in December,” you said, fighting off the butterflies that frenzied in your stomach at the thought of him finally realizing you were only a decade younger than him and all the possibilities that might open up. 

“You started school late then.”

“Yeah, took two years off to work and save money so I didn’t have to take out as many loans.”

“Smart girl,” he praised, and god, did you want to hear more of it from him. “I’ve been savin’ for Sarah’s school since she was a baby, and I still think it won’t be enough.”

“She’s a smart kid, she’ll get scholarships,” you assured, and it was true. Sarah was by far the brightest kid you’d ever met, not to mention that she’d been playing the cello since she was in first grade. She’d have no problem financing her education, but it was sweet that Joel cared so much about investing in her savings just in case. “Did you, uh, go to school?”

“No, I thought about it, but I was never the studious type,” he confessed with a smile. “I liked math and readin’ and all that, but I hated the homework part. Figured all that was important in college, so I just decided to get my carpentry license instead. Tommy went to school, though, after doin’ his four years in the army.”

“Yeah, I think we talked about it once. Hospitality, right?” 

“Yeah.” Joel smiled, a look of surprise on his face as he met your eyes again. “I didn’t know you and Tommy ever talked like that.”

You’d done more than talk to his younger brother, going so far as agreeing to a date with him last summer, but nobody knew about that little secret. It didn’t end in anything more than a kiss goodnight, though, so both of you agreed it would be something kept between just the two of you. 

“Yeah, we’re friends,” you said instead, shrugging your shoulders. Joel arched an eyebrow at you in question, but you only smiled at him, daring him to prod. 

“Tommy isn’t known for havin’ a ton of female friends,” he said, moving back to his sink to wash the seasoning off his hands. “Or just friends, should I say.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, amused by his questioning. If you were a more delusional woman, you might’ve thought his tone carried a hint of jealousy to it, but unfortunately, you were a bit too realistic to buy into that. 

“It would make sense,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back against the counter, his beer in hand. “He ain’t that much older than you.”

“Five years,” you added, smirking into the lip of your water bottle. “I’ve been known to date older men than that.”

“Have you now?” He laughed, swallowing it down with a sip of his beer. “Your dad know that?”

“We don’t really talk about my dating life,” you chuckled. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Joel’s smirk was devious, and you had no idea how you’d managed to start flirting or what gave you the confidence. But here you were, trying not to let your hopes get too high that maybe, just maybe, he’d flirt back. 

Sighing through his amusement, he shook his head and picked up the back of burger patties without saying another word, leaving you to follow after him as he step out onto the patio. 

You expected some sort of verbal confirmation that he was interested, or that he wasn’t, but instead all you received was silence an a permanent look of amusement as he got the grill started. 

And silence just wouldn’t do. 

“Where is Tommy? I expected he’d be here helping you out,” you said, hoping to coax more conversation out of him. 

“Droppin’ Sarah off,” he said, not so much as glancing your way. Your mouth twisted with disappointment. It seemed like he was so close to playing along with your flirtation in the kitchen, but now he was back to being his usual closed off and sidetracked self. “Don’t worry, your boyfriend’s gonna be back soon.”

You let out a gasp of a chuckle, shocked by his teasing. “Boyfriend?”

“Mmhm,” he hummed, glancing up at you from over the hood of the grill with a half-smirk. “And don’t you try and deny it. He’s been askin’ about you since we heard you were movin’ back.”

Well, that was mildly surprising. You were under the impression that he was as disinterested in you as you were in him. After all, he wasn’t really the type you went for. You liked your men quiet and reserved, at least outside of the bedroom, and Tommy was the exact opposite. He was talkative, outgoing, and at times a bit too much. 

“I promise you, Tommy is not my boyfriend,” you said, laughing. 

“Well, seems like he’s interested, then,” he said, setting the patties down on the grill. “Might wanna give it a shot.”

Was this his way of letting you know that he, himself, wasn’t interested? If so, you wished he’d just come out and say it rather than trying to push you off on his younger brother. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, I guess.” 

Deciding to let the conversation end there out of fear that he might continue trying to play matchmaker, you finally decided to take a dip in the pool. Sliding out of your shorts, you briefly cursed yourself for choosing a more modest swimsuit today rather than the string bikinis you’d learned to love wearing through years of teaching yourself to be comfortable with your body and all of its imperfections—or what society deemed to be imperfections, at least. Instead, you were wearing something that covered all the bits you hoped to tempt Joel with, and judging by his lack of interest, your one-piece seemed to serve its purpose. 

You shoved Joel out of your mind as you stepped into the perfectly lukewarm water, keeping your back turned to him. You didn’t turn around and chance a look his way until you were submerged up to your neck, but even then, he still wasn’t paying any attention to you. 

It seemed that whatever had sparked that brief interest back in the kitchen had vanished completely, for better or worse. For the better because if your father ever found out you were fooling around with a man ten years your senior, he’d likely have nothing nice to say. And for worse because despite all the trouble it would cause, you still wanted Joel—wanted to flirt with him, wanted to touch him, and wanted to know him beyond what little he’d shown you over the course of the last four summers. 

When Tommy arrived, the burgers had just come off the grill. You were wrapped in your towel, sitting at the patio table across from a very quiet Joel. Tommy, of course, shooed away what lingering awkwardness remained between the two of you with his overt friendliness, choosing to sit beside you and fix his attention on you alone. 

“How’s it being back home?” he asked, as everyone seemed to. 

“S’alright,” you said, taking a bite out of a fry. “What about you? How’ve you been?”

“Been alright,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a sip of his beer. “Workin’ mostly, but you know me. I make time for extracurricular activities when I can.” 

You rolled your eyes at his playful tone, a smile finding its way onto your face despite your lack of interest in playing along. 

“You have any extracurricular activities goin’ on right now?” he asked, not at all subtle. 

“Not the kind you’re talking about,” you said, shooting him a look. “And I’m not looking for any, either.”

“That’s too bad,” he said, giving you a playful look of disapproval. “Now’s the time.”

“And who do you suggest I fill that time with?” you asked, your tone teetering the line of flirty. You weren’t sure why you were doing it, either, except out of the delusional hope that if you managed to make Joel jealous, perhaps he’d finally be lured into your trap. 

“There’s always me,” he replied, resting his arm over the back of your chair. 

“That’s my cue,” Joel muttered, grabbing his plate from the table. Your eyes shot to his, a pathetic look of disappointment in them as you watched him get up and walk inside. 

So much for jealousy, then. 

“Hey.” You turned in your seat to face Tommy, biting at your lip. “Did you say anything to Joel about our date last summer?”

Tommy smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “I might’ve said somethin’. Why? Should I not have?”

“I just thought we were gonna keep it between us like we said.” You weren’t sure why it angered you so much that he’d gone and done the exact opposite behind your back, but you had an inkling that it had something to do with the fact that now that Joel was aware of your very brief history with his younger brother, he likely wouldn’t try anything with you. 

“It ain’t a big deal,” Tommy said, his brows lacing together. “Unless you wanted it kept a secret.”

“Obviously,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes before standing up and collecting your plate. Tommy’s hand was gentle as it touched your arm, stopping you from walking off. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean to cross a line,” he said, his eyes rounding. “I just didn’t know it was that big of a deal.”

“It’s fine,” you said. Anything to get him to drop it. “No worries.”

“It doesn’t look like it’s fine,” he said. “Looks like you’re pissed at me.”

“I am, but like I said, it’s fine.” You moved past him, his arm slipping out of reach as you opened the sliding glass door that led into the kitchen. 

Joel was standing there at the sink scrubbing his plate, his back turned to you. You swallowed the dryness in your throat and approached him, earning a glance. 

“I can wash mine,” you offered. Joel rolled his eyes at that and gently grabbed the plate from your hand. “You don’t have to—“

“S’fine,” he grumbled, turning back to the sink. 

“Did I manage to piss you off somehow?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head and frowning. “Why would I be pissed off at you just because you’re sneakin’ around with Tommy?” 

You chuckled, the sound not one of amusement but realization. 

He was jealous. 

And he was sulking over it. 

“I told you, Tommy and I aren’t sneaking around,” you said, trying not to laugh. “We went on one date last summer, but he’s not—it wasn’t a match. That’s the end of that.” 

Joel shut the tap off and moved over to the stove to grab a dish cloth so he could wipe his hands dry. He kept his head down, watching his hands, but you could tell he was still stewing from the clench of his jaw. 

“Joel, I don’t know why you’re pissed about the prospect of Tommy and I, so why don’t you tell me?” you said, stepping closer to him until his warm scent hit you. Joel lifted his eyes to look at you, his head still shaking. 

“I don’t know either,” he confessed, his voice soft and whispered. “Just am.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes at him and turned to go back outside so that you could grab your things and head home, but Joel’s warm hand on your arm caught you before you could even take a step. Your breath hitched as he pulled you close, his hand slipping up your arm as if to cradle your cheek. You waited for the warmth of his palm to touch you again, but the sound of the sliding glass door opening behind you forced him to take a step backwards as Tommy walked in. 

“You’re still here,” he said, oblivious to the moment he ruined. “Thought I pissed you off enough that you left without your stuff.”

You cleared your throat and turned to him, shaking your head. “No, but I was just about to.”

Joel remained a few feet away, watching the two of you in tense silence, but Tommy didn’t seem to think twice about it. Instead, he gestured for you to follow him out back with a nudge of his head. You took a breath, glancing at Joel before deciding that either way, you needed to grab your shit and go before things got even more awkward. 

“Listen,” Tommy started as he slid the patio door shut behind you. “I didn’t mean to piss you off. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Tommy,” you sighed, gathering your things in your arms. 

“No, I should’ve kept it between us like we said we would,” he said, stepping closer to you as you stood by the patio table. “I know I went and pissed you off, and I know you probably don’t wanna give me another chance, but—“

“I’m not looking to date anybody right now, Tommy,” you said, half annoyed and half flustered by whatever it was Joel was about to do before he was interrupted. “But we’re cool. There’s no hard feelings, I just…I’m only interested in being friends right now.”

Tommy swallowed the defeat with a nod, his lips pursing just slightly. “Alright. If you ever change your mind, though.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, though you knew it would take a miracle for you to ever go down that path again. Especially when Joel was finally starting to pay you some attention. “I should go.”

“Can I walk you home?” 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine. Right next door, remember?”

“Right, sorry,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I’ll see you, then.”

“Yeah,” you gave him a gentle pat on the arm as you passed him to head back into the house, somehow feeling guilty for rejecting him even when you knew you had every right to do so. Still, you were empathetic enough to remember the sting of your own rejected advances and hated the thought of him feeling that way. But your feelings for him, or lack thereof, couldn’t be helped. 

You wanted Joel, and Joel alone. 

Even if it was delusional, even if it was unrequited. 

Joel was nowhere to be found when you entered the kitchen, nor was he in the living room. It seemed he’d retreated back upstairs, and though you were familiar enough with the house, it felt like an intrusion to seek him out when it was clear that he wanted to be alone. So you’d save your feelings for another day, perhaps one where his brother wasn’t around to interrupt the two of you. 

You walked yourself back to your house in the late afternoon sun, your bathing suit and shorts already half-dry by the time you shed them in the bathroom before taking a much needed shower. You were only mildly ashamed to admit you’d used the memory of his warm hand on your skin to get off in there, but it never took much in that regard, at least when the fantasy of Joel was involved. 

By the time you got changed into some pajama pants and an old t-shirt, you were ready to call it a night. You opened your phone to start your routine of mindlessly scrolling until your eyes got too tired to stay open, but were surprised to find a missed text notification from Joel on your lock screen. You opened the message with bated breath and shaking hands. 

Joel Miller: Sorry about today. If you want to talk about it tomorrow, feel free to stop by. Hope you have a good rest of your night. 

Impatience gnawed at you, the urge to get up and drag your ass over there right now so that you could tell him there was no need for him to apologize hitting you hard. But you managed to reel yourself in, choosing to reply to him via text instead. 

Don’t you dare apologize. We can talk about it tomorrow. Have a good night, Joel. 🤍

You waited an agonizing few minutes for a response, half ready to die with embarrassment over your choice of words, your decision to add a heart emoji, the fact that you even responded at all, but thankfully, his reply came in before you had the chance to worsen things by sending a second text. 

Joel Miller: I’m just sorry I didn’t get the chance to kiss you like I wanted to. 

Well, shit.

[inknopewetrust]

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐝—𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 [𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] [𝐰𝐜: 3.5k]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤.

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

The band had long ceased playing.

As the strings of confetti laid scattered on the floor and the lingering drips of spilled champagne stained the linens, the new year had rung in with a start. London was electric; buzzing in the underground of the darkest shadows—there was nothing more thrilling.

For a deal had been struck as smiles beamed.

And Alfie Solomons had never felt so alive when the guests dispersed and he sat at a vacant table in the golden light. A cigar burning in his hand, the man leaned back on his chair in victory.

The tendrils of smoke swirled in the air; dancing around his face and into the room. It carved him as a Prometheus of men—Camden’s king that gave and protected those who needed it most.

He intrigued you, Alfie Solomons.

A ruggedly handsome man with the mouth of a foul sailor. He had eyed every person in the room before they could clock him but he was never difficult to miss, not after how much Tommy had talked him up.

It would be easy, he said, charming the socks of Alfie to warm a deal between the two sleuths.

Easy was an understated word when the night had worn thin and all you had done from your table of rich ladies and their scrawny men was stare at him. He’d caught your eye one too many times as you tried to gain his attention throughout the night—but he never made his way to you.

You knew there was no doubting he knew you worked with Tommy, that you were being used in a way to sweeten prospects with batting eyelashes and a dress that dipped a little too low in the front. Alfie had seen that before. The desperate nature of a con too important to lose.

It was why when the guests had left the building and the music had stopped he remained. You’d left to powder your nose, he’d heard your excuse to a woman at your table who happened to be the wife of an employee. He sent his snakes far too. Tommy wasn’t the only one who played for keeps.

When you re-entered the space, Alfie sat at the table with the smoke billowing around him in puffs. His cane slanted against the table while his legs spread wide, thick thighs resting themselves on the chair in welcome.

He teased absentmindedly. He was erotic when he tried not to be, more so as you looked upon him from your perch in the hall.

You thanked Tommy endlessly for sending you. This line of business wasn’t hard work when the goal was a specimen like Alfie was. You stood in the doorway with confidence faltering under the surface and leaned against the wall as seductively as you could imagine.

Yet Alfie said nothing.

He continued to smoke at his cigar with the knowledge of you standing there. You felt your heartbeat pick up.

You shifted on your feet, crossing them together and pulling your hands behind your back. It popped your hip out to the side and for a brief moment, you swore Alfie’s chest lifted in a scoff but he sat too far from you. You truly couldn’t tell.

He smoked for another eternity, a minute perhaps before inhaling dramatically and blowing it out again.

“And to what,” his messy drawl was thick, “do I owe the pleasure of your company, Miss—“

“I think you know why I’m here,” you answered in kind. He shrugged his shoulder casually.

“Perhaps. But Tommy ain’t exactly a friend,” his eyes narrowed a bit. “If you know what I mean?”

“He’s not asking to be your friend, Mr. Solomons. He wanted to ensure the deal was final.”

Alfie stuck the cigar between his lips. “I see he won’t be doin’ that ‘emself now?”

“No,” you smiled abashedly. It was cute, he thought, how you played so innocently at this larger game. “He knew your interests lie elsewhere.”

The smoke blew once more. He put out the cigar on a glass tray on the table before beckoning you with two fingers.

You might as well have floated against the wooden floors of the room as you approached. Hips swaying, shoes echoing in the room. You traversed the tinsel and confetti and spilled champagne to meet his table and rest in front of him. Alfie was shameless in the way he let his eyes wander. Slow and unforgiving, he could see everything if he wanted to and this was a kind of gift from Tommy—you.

You were close to the operations of the Shelby’s. He had heard about this woman, as beautiful as you, being as ruthless in Birmingham as the brothers. He knew your name, your family, your history even if he played it off as not. A childhood friend, Alfie supposed, brought on to pull strings in ways only women knew how.

He imagined you like Polly—cunning with a tongue and if you let the slit in your dress draw apart, maybe with other bits of you as well.

“The word from Thomas?” Alfie asked gruffly. You set your small bag down on the table beside you and rested a hand on your waist.

“Three boats from Camden Yard every morning for a month,” you reminded him. The details of the deal were boring, listed off like a grocery list of things to do or get and the most relief you felt that entire evening is when you finally stopped talking.

“How does he plan to have the payment delivered?”

“Through me.”

Alfie hummed. He looked around the room, mind already aware of the deal being sealed and delivered to Tommy by one of his own men in that very moment. He’d sent one of his finest to Birmingham on the off chance the one Tommy had sent was less than capable.

Alfie could admit he was wrong in such an assumption.

“You know,” Alfie shifted in his seat to widen his legs. The expanse of his stance, the seat directed towards you had your eyes trailing his torso, falling square to his crotch and back up to him. His arms rested at his thighs. Hands flat and rough. “This is our new beginning, here in Camden.”

“Shana Tovah, Mr. Solomons.”

“Did he ask you to study? He knew it was a holiday. The Shelby’s aren’t Jews.”

“I think you underestimate our worldly knowledge, Mr.—“

“Alfie,” he corrected.

“—Alfie,” you repeated. “Birmingham isn’t a shithole all the time. We are cultured people.”

Alfie smiled slightly, turning his head away to gaze at the entry way. “Eh,” he grunted. “It’s all shit if you really think ‘bout it.”

You looked down at him as he sat and he peered back at you. His eyes shadowed by his hat in the shimmer of the light.

“Why you still ‘ere?” He tested. “I can’t imagine you sneakin’ around for some challah when the cooks have gone on home.”

You adjusted your stance on your leg causing your dress to ripple. His eyes flickered in the dark.

“Tommy send you to seduce me, treacle?”

Treacle. You’d never heard someone use that word before. You ran your tongue over your lip as it jutted out to clear the dryness that manifested.

You weren’t nervous, per se. But Alfie was a strong, loud man who was more than capable of sending a message to his friends, or enemies, without remorse.

It enticed you—He enticed you greatly. The danger, the selfless anger that rested under his thick skin.

“No,” you answered honestly. “I fear I may be doing that myself.”

“There ain’t anyone here any more.” Alfie only looked at you. His eyes underneath the shadows swallowed you whole. They drew you in and spit you back out.

“Oh?” You feigned obliviousness. You knew everyone had left as well.

Alfie rubbed his hands over his thighs in warmth. His fingers danced along the tops of them.

“Step closer,” he ordered.

Without hesitation, you stepped closer and closer until you stood between his open legs and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You could smell the cigar, his scent strong and burly.

“I’m sure you’ve heard what kind of man I am.”

“No more horrible than the rest.”

“What would Thomas say, eh?” He leaned his head backwards to look up at you. His fingertips twitched against his pants in want. “That his little friend is so willing.”

“I didn’t say I was willing.”

Alfie’s smile barely ghosted his face. Amused, he flicked down to your breasts and back up to your face.

“Your body says otherwise, love.”

He could see your nipples pert against he fabric of your dress. Your chest rose and fell erratically.

“Tommy sent me to ensure the deal was final, that is all, Alfie. I do not need to entertain you to see it through.”

“But you chose this beautiful dress,” he lifted a hand dramatically. It grazed the side of your body to feel the silken fabric that laid over the parts he wished to see further. “And these women,” he motioned to the empty room, “don’t dress like you.”

“Well they follow a different code than I.”

“And what else does that code allow?”

Alfie had yet to drop his hand. It played at the fabric that hung at your hip. He pinched it between his fingers and tugged gently.

“It depends on what the caller is asking of her,” you proposed and took his other hand into your own.

His hands were bigger than yours by a mile. Rough and calloused from his life, Alfie allowed you to overturn it and caress it in your touch. He watched your eyes, not your motions as you dragged his hand up toward your body, resting his hand not tightly gripping your dress on the space on your chest not covered by clothing.

Your skin was hot to the touch. It burned him as he felt the softness so different from his own.

“I do feel a bit cold, yeah?” He questioned and in an instant brought you down onto his lap and in a scramble of legs to straddle him.

Legs now on either side of his thick thighs, you sunk to rest your core where the zipper of his trousers began to bulge.

Alfie breathed you in deeply. His gripped turned bruising as you wrapped one arm around him and the other hand reseted on his chest.

“Why Mr. Solomons,” you snickered, “this is a bit forward.”

“Says you.” His hand slipped from you uncovered chest to one of your breasts and squeezed then soothed over the pebbling bud. “Don’t know the game your playin’, love. It’d be a dangerous one for a girl like you.”

You smiled at him. Tilting your head into his, you shuttered a breath as he slipped the dress from your shoulder and let the fabric fall to reveal you to him. You shifted your hips on top of his to feel his growing sensation.

“I know my game, Alfie,” your lips barely grazed his. He chased it, nipping your bottom lip and for a moment you thought yourself crazy for acting such a way with a man like him. “Do you know yours?”

Alfie responded by meeting his lips with yours abruptly. The hand on his chest cupped his face while his simply wandered along you. His beard was long and tickling your skin as he begged to dominate your mouth with his own. You tipped his hat off and laid it on the table before pulling away with a pop.

“My God, woman,” Alfie mumbled. You rolled your hips against his softly. He moved both of his hands to grasp the sides of you and encouraged you to grind against him. Your dress fell further down your chest and bore your luscious tits to him.

You entranced him with your movements. The roll of your body, the jiggle of your breasts as you moved. He grew hard under you and his palms wandered further to gather your dress at your waist.

“You were prepared, eh?” He commented lowly at the absence of your underwear.

“I took my chances.”

One of his thumbs met your core and found your clit quickly to rub circles at the pace of your thrusts. Your body jolted at the feeling. You were out of your mind, letting him pleasure you. Yet you didn’t say no. You couldn’t say no when you were so enraptured by his entire presence.

He was thick and heavy in his trousers which only stirred you further.

Alfie circled your clit ferociously. Meticulous and rapid, he wound up the coil within you to the point of no return. His thumb gathered the wetness greedily. You cupped his head, nearly swaying him as you lost yourself and inclined your head backward as your eyelids drooped.

“Alfie…” your voice was barely above a whisper as it hitched. He had found a good spot. One so tender and reactive. He grinned slyly.

You moved to undo the belt of his pants and slid it out from the loops the best you could. He hadn’t worn suspenders or an absurd amount of vests to add to the layers. Fingers deftly popping him open and carving the lines of his cock with your hand, you worked him out of the trousers and into your palm.

“You feel plenty warm to me,” you suggested with a purr.

Alfie sat up straighter. The advantage catching the back of your neck and drawing your lips to his again. You groaned into his mouth; savoring the feeling of your lips on his as his breath mingled with yours.

You stroked him lazily in your hand while he was more deliberate in pleasuring you.

Alfie’s mouth trailed along the sides of your neck. He left foul, bruising kissed on the column as he made his way down to your tits again and took a nipple inbetween his mouth. He pulled back, gently biting it between his teeth and letting go with a tug.

“You were right, Alfie,” you breathed in heavily. Rolling your hips against his hand, you had the sudden urge to have him inside of you. “I have heard the stories about the kind of man you are.”

“And? I don’t suppose you give a fuck about them now, love.”

“No,” you smiled shyly. “But I would be lying if I wasn’t interested in the things I’d heard.”

Your ran you thumb over the head of his cock to wipe at the cum that had leaked out of hum. Smoothing it over and down his shaft, he might as well have shivered at the sensation.

“I am more interested in the man I haven’t heard about. The one like this.”

Alfie quirked a brow and stopped his movements. He helped lift you slightly, taking control of his dick as his hand replaced yours and ran it along your slit.

“You wanna be my lover? A gy—“

You shushed him with a kiss. “I didn’t say that, Mr. Solomons. It’s not something anyone needs to know of.”

“Too dangerous, treacle.” He swiped his cock’s head along you clit and you could feel the blood rushing, the heartbeat that pulsed as hard as the one in your chest. “I’m not in the business of leading women as beautiful as you to an early grave.”

You shook your head gently. “I don’t believe you.”

Alfie hummed and with it, pushed the head of himself into your aching pussy that had been warmed by his previous ministrations and he was taken by the way your mouth fell agape. Shoulders relaxing and falling as you took him in as much as you could before pushing further; further and further until there was nothing more left to take of him and you took him fully.

“No,” Alfie said deeply. His chest rumbled with the word and echoed as far into the room as it could reach. He didn’t allow you to adjust yourself on his cock. Alfie held your hips down and made you sit there, still.

“I don’t believe myself either.”

He relished the way your cunt swallowed him. Alfie’s mind wondered if all of your holes could take him the same and in the times you’d come to Camden to collect the payments on behalf of Tommy, he’d be able to explore all the scenarios that plagued his mind as you clenched down on him and gripped him tightly. So warm and inviting, he could stay like that forever and if this was the feeling of your first meeting, he wasn’t romantic enough to consider how he’d feel after your tenth, twentieth, or more.

Alfie’s mind traveled to you kneeling under his desk and taking his cock in your mouth; feeling you spread out before him on a table in the distillery room and watching you gush around him. He could see himself under covers in the dark pleasuring you with his mouth and the taste of you on his tongue. In the tub with your back against his and the water splashing over the sides and if he was lucky, as the sun broke the horizon in Margate in his house by the sea.

As he let you sit on him and rake your fingers through his short hair, he caressed your sides and backs of your thighs as the muscles trembled.

“When you collect the money,” he whispered as much as a man like he could, “come straight to the bakery. Go to the office and if I am not there, do not let anyone in who knocks.”

“Afraid of what your men will do to me?” You questioned and his grip tightened.

“They’d be fuckin’ idiots to try.”

You learned quickly that Alfie Solomons loved to kiss you. He enjoyed the feeling of your lips on his and the selfless way you let him take control of you. He pushed the boundaries of comfort and with his cock still inside of you hard and pulsing with want, it was hard to imagine letting another man touch you in the same way.

“You come straight to me. You take the money and I’ll leave you walkin’ funny till you return to those fuckin’ Shelby’s so they know who you belong to.”

You pulled Alfie in close around his shoulders. He loosened his grasp on your hips as you lifted yourself up. His cock coated in your slick slid along your walls and before you lost him completely, you sunk down on him again and he guided you with ease every bounce you made.

You barely squeaked as his dick filled you. Thick and long, he was exactly as you’d imagined him to be based on the man you’d heard so much about. His large thighs supported your weight and he complained not about any part of you that you’d deem less than perfect.

Letting Alfie maneuver you, you leaned back onto his thighs and your hands placed themselves on his knee caps and allowed the space between you to be viewed completely by the man. He watched you sink onto him. Watching as you took him with languid rolls and calculated moves that barely drew a sweat on your brow. He held onto you tightly and helped speed up the movements as he pulled you into him once twice and then repeatedly.

The sounds of your pleasure were lewd. For anyone could waltz in and see you both openly fucking in the dining hall of the beautiful building but they wouldn’t. The sun had long set, the doors long had been locked and all that was left was you and Alfie left to settle a score.

And it was building rapidly.

Too much. It was overstimulating—the force of his actions and the long drawl of his cock against your plush walls. You were soaked. Soaking him and his trousers that were barely pushed down enough to set him free. Your body trembled as the quick revelation of your orgasm approached. Gripping his knees so tightly your nails dug into the caps, you couldn’t help the yelps turned into weak, whimpering moans that spilled from your lips.

Alfie muttered words of mere nothing at the quake of your thighs. Your stomach’s muscles tightened and with a jolt, you lurched forward and clung onto his shoulders as your release reached its peak. Your pussy clenched down on his cock with all the strength it could in the moments between your tremors. Alfie sore disorienting profanities as your orgasm threatened his own.

He wanted to pull out. He didn’t need more on his plate than what he already had and certainly not any child that bound him to the Shelby LLC for eternity. Alfie huffed, breathing through his teeth as he lifted you up slightly and barely managed to empty himself onto your stomach and bits of your dress.

You watched as his release waded down your body and his hold loosened greatly at his finish.

“So,” Alfie spoke lowly. “Do I have your word?”

“Of what?” You responded breathlessly. He grinned at your fucked out face. The way you could barely hold yourself upright even if it wasn’t the most intense fuck either of you had ever had.

“You come straight to me, got it?”

And well, Mr. Alfie Solomons didn’t have to ask twice.

Happy almost end of Kinktober! I’m trying my best to get all the fics out that I’ve promised. I’ve never written for Alfie before but I love the character so much that I’d thought I’d give it a try. As always, it is so much appreciated that you leave a like, a comment OR a reblog (I like the last two the best!) thank you for reading and free to check out any of my other works.

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 4: Supportive Boyfriends

and for my next (LATE, SO LATE) @bucktommypositivityweek contribution. KITTEN FIC.

(read on ao3)

**

The 118 doesn't have a baby box.

In fact there aren't any in the state of California at all. Buck looked it up, after Maddie's postpartum episode. When half his family was missing and there wasn't much he could do besides wait and... think about things.

So he thought about safe haven laws. Read up on the training seminars for first responders who want to be better equipped to deal with hand-offs. Read a bunch of other stuff he sort of wishes he hadn't. Spent the next week haunted by articles about abandoned children.

He considered talking to Bobby about it. Only partly to ask him if they should get a box for the firehouse. Partly because Buck wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, and Bobby always seemed to have answers. But he never worked up the nerve to broach the subject.

And now. Bobby's not captain anymore, and Buck really can't imagine Gerrard giving a shit about any of this.

So, they don't have a box. But.

Well, this isn't a human baby. It's not like the same rules apply.

Buck has to wonder if wires got crossed somewhere, because. Someone left a kitten. Outside the firehouse.

Buck was just going to grab something—he can't remember what—from his Jeep, when he spotted an unlabelled cardboard box on the pavement, up against the side of the building. His first thought was bomb.

Until it meowed at him. A tiny, high-pitched peep of a meow.

Kind of scared the shit out of him, if he's being honest.

There's only one. All alone in the box. A poofy grey thing wriggling around half buried in an off-white towel. Like a very ambitious dust bunny with big round blue eyes and skinny legs. It wobbles slowly over a fold in the towel with all the effort of someone scaling a mountain.

Buck crouches next to the box, and pokes a finger inside.

"Hey, buddy," he murmurs, holding very still while the kitten inches towards his hand and squeaks. It's unclear whether there are teeth in that little maw. That means it's really young, right? Too young to be left alone for very long.

Shit, how is he going to explain this to Gerrard? He's still got, like, 12 hours left on his shift, but someone has to feed this thing. How long can kittens go without food?

Oh, it does have teeth. Really teeny ones. They're ineffectively poking his knuckle.

Buck fishes his phone out of his jacket—with the hand that isn't currently being drooled on—intending to go to Google for answers. How to figure out how old a kitten is. How often do kittens need to be fed. Do cats get separation anxiety. He has a million questions.

Only he doesn't pull up his browser. He calls Tommy.

It's a whim. Barely a seed of an idea. But when he unlocked his phone the first thing he saw was their text history (he'd been complaining about Gerrard off-and-on all morning, and Tommy had been sending random updates about all the chores he'd been getting done—his last message was a picture of a mop with no context) and he just thought... Tommy will know what to do. Not in so many words, more a feeling. Comfort and certainty, just from seeing Tommy's picture in a little bubble at the top of his screen.

"Evan?" Tommy answers almost immediately, and there's a subtle undercurrent of worry in his tone. Buck winces. Right, calling out of the blue while he's at work would look. Bad.

"I'm okay!" He says quickly, all in one breath. Then pauses. The kitten squints up at him, meowing again, long and loud. Its whole fluffy face scrunches with the effort.

"...What was that?"

"Uh. That would be why I called, actually."

—

Gerrard is less of an obstacle than Buck feared he'd be. Because he's holed up in his office doing paperwork when Buck sneaks in with the kitten, and Buck's decided he has no intention of letting him know the cat was ever here.

Tommy promised he'd come get her.

Buck didn't even really ask, and wasn't planning on asking. Didn't have any plan whatsoever, in fact. He just wanted to know if Tommy knew anything about taking care of kittens, and suddenly Tommy's voluntarily sacrificing the rest of his day off to scope out vets and pet supply stores and whatever else Buck's helpless little friend might need.

He hung up hours ago and his insides still feel warm and goopy about it. He can't stop thinking about the gentle fondness that softened Tommy's voice after Buck explained the situation. Buck would wrap himself up in it like a blanket if he could.

Tommy's getting so kissed when he shows up.

In the meantime, Buck's sitting upstairs, working his way through the dozen or so tabs he opened up after googling kitten care.

He thinks the one he found might be around three weeks old (ears not quite unfurled, can't sheathe claws yet, legs unsteady but mobile). And possibly a girl. She did not care for being picked up and turned over, and the indignant squirming made it difficult to tell what's going on down there. But he's almost certain he's right.

She was shrieking up a storm about it, and he was worried if he took any longer she'd alert Gerrard. (She didn't. She did, however, draw the attention of about half the firehouse.)

"You are disgustingly cute," Chimney coos, scratching under her chin with the tip of one finger. She's lifted her head as high as she can and her eyes are squinted happily. Buck can hear her purring from across the room. "Yes you are. Hen, can you get a picture of this?"

Hen pulls out her phone. "Sure... why?" She asks, leaning over his shoulder to snap a picture and eye him with mild suspicion.

"Jee. She'll wanna see when I tell her about my day."

Her expression softens to a smile. "I'll text it to you." She taps her screen a couple times. "Just had to make sure you weren't planning on calendar campaigning again."

Chimney grins. "Nah, my calendar days are behind me. The only person who gets shirtless pictures of me now is my wife."

"Gross," Buck says without conviction. He narrows his eyes at the site he's scrolling through, swiping away a Join Our Mailing List! popup. "You guys don't think she's cold do you? Are her ears warm? It's only, like, 70 today and we don't know how long she was out there."

Hen and Chim exchange glances, and then, disturbingly in sync, look from the cat to Buck. Chim gives her ear a perfunctory poke, which she does not appreciate as much as chin scritches, "She's fine, man."

Hen waves a hand at Buck when he opens his mouth again, "We're medical professionals. And in my medically professional opinion. She's fine."

"Okay, but—"

"Hey guys, look who stopped b—uhhh. Is that a cat?" Eddie slows to a stop at the top of the stairs, blinking at the kitten on the couch. "When did we get a cat?"

"Couple hours ago," Buck says, still frowning at Hen and Chimney. "Where have you been?"

"I found him polishing the engine."

Buck shoots out of his seat. "Tommy!"

He only half-hears Eddie muttering, "Favouritism," as he scuttles around the chair to meet Tommy halfway between the stairs and the sitting area. Tommy has just enough time to smile—and it warms Buck, like it always does, with a spark caught in his chest for safekeeping—and say hi before Buck's on him, palms clapped on either side of his face, smushing their lips together.

He makes a bit of a show of it, dramatically swooping in, because he knows the big smacking MWAH will make Tommy laugh, and he likes the way that feels rumbling against his chest.

Buck taps their noses together. "Hey," he says, savouring the mirth sparkling in Tommy's eyes for a second before kissing him again, properly this time.

His brain goes sort of fuzzy when Tommy's palm cups the back of his neck.

Someone in the distance wolf-whistles.

When they finally come up for air Tommy asks, "What was that for?" a little breathlessly, which is doing things to Buck.

"Mmn...y'know. For being you."

Tommy raises his eyebrows, kiss-reddened lips curling fondly. "Okay."

"Hey, Tommy. Good to see you," Chim calls in a very pointed way.

Right, public setting. Workplace. Friends watching. Buck exhales slowly, and tries to think about anything other than how much he wants to bite that bit of clavicle peeking out of the collar of Tommy's shirt. Like the fact that Tommy's hands are warm, and he's sort of rubbing his fingertips over the short stubbly bits of hair on the back of Buck's head, and Buck's lips are still tingling a little, and—no wait, not that either.

Tommy pulls away first, which is probably for the best, but also very sad. The corner of his mouth twitches like he can see Buck thinking it. He curls his index finger and gently taps Buck's chin with the knuckle before he turns to the group.

"Howie," he says, not even pretending to be contrite in the face of Chim's mock-judgement. "Hen."

"Tommy." Hen fails to contain her smirk.

Some time during all the kissing, Eddie moved over to the couch. He's sat next to the kitten, watching her attempt to groom her paw with all the grace of a toddler who's only a little bit sure they know how to hold a brush. She keeps starting and stopping at random intervals, sometimes licking the cushion beside her, sometimes sticking her tongue out at thin air.

She's so cute it makes Buck's chest hurt. It's a little much while he's still loopy from making out with his boyfriend.

Then Tommy goes and crouches next to the couch so he can get eye-level with the kitten while she sniffs his hand, talking to her all calm and soft with smile-lines crinkling his cheeks, and. Buck might need to lie down for a bit. Like, on top of Tommy, preferably.

The kitten seems to like him too, and he really can't blame her when she crawls up Tommy's sleeve to perch on his shoulder.

She looks so much smaller cuddled up on Tommy. He reaches up to steady her, and she's almost entirely obscured by his hand.

God, is it wrong that he's getting a little hot under the collar about that? He just looks so strong and competent and at the same time, like, gentle. Buck knows how it feels to be touched tenderly by those hands, and apparently just seeing it happen does not affect him any less. In fact it's only added dimensions to his desires.

"I should probably get going," Tommy says, bringing Buck back down to Earth with a resounding splat.

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. He's right. The last thing Buck wants is for Tommy to have another run-in with Gerrard, and they don't know how long the old bastard's gonna be occupied.

"Mhm, run while you still can," Chimney pipes up. "Before our dear old captain smells an opportunity to ruin someone's day."

"He does seem to have a sixth sense for that," Eddie adds sullenly. Buck makes a note to ask him what that was about. Later.

"I'll walk you out," Buck says, trying not to sound like a pouting child. He's fairly certain he fails, because Tommy laces their fingers together and gives his hand a comforting squeeze.

He says his goodbyes, the whole time being careful not to dislodge the kitten while she crawls across his shoulders.

Buck goes through the list of kitten care basics he memorized as they make their way to the parking lot. It's...more than he thought it was, honestly. It starts to feel overwhelming as he goes on, and on, and on. He's running out of time to get it all out, and he feels like it's just now sinking in his huge this responsibility that he's dumping in Tommy's lap is.

"You're sure you don't mind taking her?" The question bursts out of Buck before they make it to Tommy's car. "W-we didn't really, I mean. We talked about it over the phone, but..."

"Yeah, now that I've seen her she does seem like a real handful."

The kitten yawns, and curls up into a tiny grey ball in the crook of Tommy's neck.

Well. Alright.

"It's just, t-they need a lot of attention when they're that young, and I kinda just, just dropped this on you."

"Evan." Tommy gives him a look. "Are you worried that you baby-trapped me?"

Okay, when he puts it like that. Maybe a little bit. But also now he's having complicated yearning feelings that he really should not be having this early in the relationship.

Buck's pretty sure he looks like a deer in the headlights right now, because Tommy's doing his damnedest to pretend he isn't laughing at him.

He tugs Buck's hand, leading him the rest of the way to his car.

The backseat is full of cat stuff. Containers of milk-replacement powders, and a shiny plastic litter box, and toys, so many toys, baggies of fake mice and feathery things, just. So much stuff. Piles of it.

"I called up a friend who used to foster kittens. She had a lot of advice. And then I got a little carried away."

"I, uh. See that," Buck laughs breathlessly.

"Over the phone, you sounded like this meant a lot to you? And I think I got really attached to the idea of...this. Taking care of her for you. With you." He sounds hesitant, like he's trying not to say too much, and Buck can't stand it—

"I love you so much," he says in a rush.

"Well, good," Tommy purses his lips around a smile, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners. He reaches up to his shoulder, like he's absent-mindedly checking to see if the kitten's still there. "Wouldn't want her to grow up in a broken home."

Buck huffs a laugh.

"And I love you too."

[punkshort]

to have and to hold

A The Way We Were/Look What We've Become one-shot

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (established relationship)

Summary: You and Joel enjoy a quiet morning together the day after your wedding.

Warnings: language, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, brief mention of oral (m!receiving), an absurd amount of happiness and love.

WC: 2.2K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Was it what you always envisioned for your wedding day?

Certainly not.

No, you definitely didn't imagine finding the love of your life, who also happened to be your extremely intimidating boss, right before the apocalypse. You didn't think you would spend a year traveling across the country together, fighting for your lives and keeping one another safe while doing your best to deny your feelings for him, and he for you.

Yet somehow, it all worked out. After enduring unspeakable things in that year, you found sanctuary in Jackson, Wyoming, with Joel's brother. Tommy had a very different experience in that first year. He managed to find Maria, his wife, and create a beautiful community. The walls around the town were still being constructed when they found you both on the side of the road, on your way to Yellowstone to settle down together someplace safe. They took you in and you acclimated nicely, although it took a long time for you both to feel safe, to let go of that nagging feeling in the back of your head that said stay alert, keep one eye open, stay awake. But you did, and you each finally found peace.

Sure, it wasn't all easy. Old fears cropped back up when Joel mentioned starting a family and getting married. You said all the wrong things, anxiety driving you instead of your heart and it nearly destroyed you both. But with time, you managed to work through your fears and you came out on the other end stronger than ever.

And now you were married. Devoted to one another forever, said the words with tears in your eyes and smiles on your faces in front of your friends and family. Ellie never called you mom and dad, but you took on the roles for her, anyway. You fed her, taught her, kept her safe, kept her secret. She was just as much family as Tommy and Maria, who also stood by your sides as you exchanged vows.

As silly as it was, Joel still insisted on keeping the hair tie you had given him that night wrapped tightly around his wrist. It was a makeshift ring, a symbol more than anything of your love and devotion to him, and even though you had since found a thin gold band for him to wear one day not too far outside the walls under Tommy's guard, Joel still never took off that hair tie.

It was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes the day after your wedding. Your cheek was pressed against his bare chest, his right arm wrapped possessively around your middle and his left hand resting on his stomach. The way the sun beamed in through your bedroom curtains made the gold band around his finger practically sparkle, or maybe you were just imagining it. Either way, it made you smile and nuzzle into his warmth even more, inhaling his natural, comforting scent.

He took a deep breath, his chest rising underneath your cheek, then you heard him grunt softly before his fingers twitched then left his stomach in favor of scratching his beard.

"'S'late," he yawned, voice thick and gravelly. The way it sent a wave of arousal through you, you would have thought he said the most filthy, depraved thing known to man.

"We were up late," you reminded him, biting your lip when you saw the slow smile spread across his face.

"Oh, I remember," he teased before his hands found your hips and shifted you so you were lying on top of him. You pressed a slow, lazy kiss against the center of his chest and you could feel his heart fluttering under your lips.

"What do you want to do today?" you asked him sleepily.

He hummed and you got your answer before he even had a chance to respond when you felt a familiar twitch against your leg.

"I planned on stayin' in bed with my wife all damn day," he said, making you giggle.

"I like the sound of that."

With Ellie at a sleepover, which was at her own insistence to give you some space on your wedding night, a gesture both thoughtful and embarrassing in nature, you knew you had at least a few more hours to yourselves.

"C'mere," he murmured, his chest rumbling underneath you. With a grin, you propped yourself on your elbows so you could reach his mouth. Pressing your lips together gently, you each sighed, feeling yourself relax even more in his arms.

His tongue swiped along your bottom lip and you dropped your jaw, allowing your tongues to lazily reunite. One of his hands delicately traced your spine while the other cupped your cheek, cradling it like you were made of glass. You leaned your face into the palm of his hand, letting him hold you close. It felt like he had you completely surrounded, like your body was just melting right into his, and you couldn't be any happier.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Turned out, you could be a little happier. That became rather clear when your kisses grew heated, your hands began to roam and your hips started to shift. You didn't even bother to ask, you just pushed yourself up so your legs were straddling him on either side and reached between both your bodies, angling his cock so it lined up with your opening and slowly, oh so slowly, you sunk down. You watched through heavy lidded eyes as his face went slack and his brow furrowed, taking great pride in the way you made this broad, strong, beast of a man all pliant and soft underneath you. How you and you alone with one touch or look could stop him dead in his tracks.

"Yeah, sweetheart, that's it," he growled when you started to move. He pressed his head back into his pillow and groaned, watching as the evidence of your arousal smeared between you both with each rock of your hips. His hands gripped your waist, one set of fingertips brushing up against the shiny, but faded, scars on your ribs. His eyes focused on them for a moment, allowing his ego to inflate just a bit when he recalled what you would be willing to do for him. It was the same he would be willing to do, and have done, for you: kill anyone who dared try to do you harm.

His hands drifted over your stomach, rough palms gliding over smooth skin, until he reached your breasts. He squeezed one, then the other, then drew small circles over your nipples, flicking his nail against the hardening bud and making you whine.

It didn't take much convincing. Just one hand pressing lightly on your back made you fall forward, planting a hand on either side of his head so he could take your nipple into his mouth while you continued to ride him at a pace you seemed to enjoy best.

"Feel so good," you practically slurred, your mind growing numb as your pleasure built. He released your breast with a smack to his lips and pushed you back so you were upright once again. His eyes looked black when he met your gaze and he clenched his jaw before he muttered lowly, "fuckin' take it. C'mon, lemme see you work for it."

You took a deep breath and stabilized your palms against his chest before tilting your hips up and dropping them down quickly, over and over in a steady, fast rhythm that had your skin slapping together obscenely in the otherwise quiet house.

"Yeah, that's it. Fuck, what a good girl," he murmured. You could see the shift in his face now and it fucking thrilled you. Gone were the sweet, loving looks and chaste, gentle kisses. Now that his own pleasure was mounting low in his stomach, his cock throbbing and begging for release deep within you, he was growing impatient. He bared his teeth while you kept up your fast, tight pace, eyes flashing up at you hungrily, heat flushing his chest and neck and you briefly thought he looked not unlike an animal, the thought only spurring you on more.

"Keep fuckin' yourself on my cock, sweetheart," he gritted out. "Look so pretty like this, all stuffed full of me. My beautiful wife," he added, his voice dropping to an adoring whisper with his last words. It had you tipping you head with a deep moan, your gaze locking onto the ceiling while you continued to ride him as best you could with trembling legs.

And he could feel it. He could feel your legs shake, he could hear your breath stutter and he knew you were growing weak but fuck if you didn't try to push through it just to please him. The mere thought practically short circuited his brain, his senses dulling at the idea of someone as perfect as you wanting to do what he asked. But he knew you were tired and sore from the previous night. He hardly let you rest once you finally tore away from the festivities to be alone for the first time as husband and wife, but you both knew the desire was double sided. You couldn't keep your hands off him, either. After all, it was you who dropped to your knees in your beautiful fucking dress right on the other side of your front door, barely making it inside, to take his cock down your throat.

So he decided to help. His hands found their place on your hips, thumbs pressing into the crease of your thighs, and he bucked up into you, each movement paired with a deep grunt that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your fingernails digging into his chest.

When your body shuddered and your jaw hung open, a sharp gasp the only sound to leave your lips, he smirked because he knew what would happen next. Your perfect fucking pussy clenched around him so deliciously, squeezing and relaxing over and over again while each wave of your orgasm ripped through you. The sight and feel was unlike anything else, the experience simply incomparable.

He lifted you off him quickly, making you yelp in surprise, and rolled you over so you were on your back. He knelt between your legs and furiously tugged at his cock, his eyes fixated on your spent cunt. He groaned loudly and fell forward onto one hand as he came, painting your stomach with his release, and you watched in a daze as you continued to catch your breath.

"Christ," he gasped when he was finally finished, then collapsed next to you with a tired groan. "Gonna kill me one day."

You giggled and tossed your forearm across your eyes, and he grinned before reaching toward the ground for something to clean you up.

"Why don't I make you breakfast?" he offered softly as he wiped the rag over your belly. You hummed and dropped your arm to your side with a smile.

"I think Julia baked us muffins as a wedding present. The basket should be downstairs somewhere."

He was surprised his stomach didn't growl on command.

"You stay here, I'll be right back," he said before kissing the tip of your nose and lifting himself up with a grunt. He slid on his boxers, not fully convinced that Ellie wouldn't come bounding through the front door unannounced, before heading down the steps. While the coffee brewed, he rubbed his lower back with a wince. The last twelve hours wore him out, but he wouldn't ever let you see it. But by the time he got back upstairs with a tray full of muffins, coffee and apples, he could tell you were just as exhausted as him. You had hardly moved from the spot where he left you, but he couldn't deny you looked completely relaxed.

You ate in a comfortable silence, picking at baked goods and feeding each other pieces of apple until you were full. Afterwards, you took his left hand in both of yours and admired the way it now looked adorned with a gold band, marking him as yours forever.

"Looks good on you," you murmured. He smiled and cupped your jaw with his other hand, kissing your lips so tenderly it took your breath away.

"What do we do now?" he asked, nuzzling the side of your face.

"What we promised we would do," you said with a sigh. You leaned into him, head coming to rest on his shoulder while his arms circled your waist, holding you as close as he could.

It took him a moment, but he understood what you meant.

I promise to love and cherish you. To remain faithful, to protect you, to laugh and cry with you. To grow together and lean on one another. Until my very last breath, this I swear.

His chest swelled at the memory and he felt so happy in that moment, he thought he could float away.

He took a deep breath and kissed the top of your head before replying.

"Okay."

[jadeyarts]

Thank you for answering my question about your fop as if I could ask one more question - how do you think Timmy would be as a dad? I know you kind of went over it in the original answer but I’d love to hear more if you have more to share. It make me so mad that they made Timmy jacked and like a bad dad when his own dad is a thinner guy and you would think Timmy would be a good dad since he cares so much about family :(

(previous ask for reference / adult timmy)

okay the stars have finally aligned for me to answer this: IMHO i think timmy would be a doting dad and prone to spoiling his kids - since such a major component of his character in the og series is how often he goes out of his way to do nice things for people. i think its probably kind of on his spouse (gary in my fanon, but i'm not opposed to it being molly... lol) to be the rational one and put a foot down if he's indulging them too much.

i also personally like the idea of timmy being a stay-at-home dad so a babysitter isn't necessary all that often - and when one is needed he makes sure to only leave his kids with someone he can completely truly trust, usually chloe. so i've been considering the idea that he's a children's book writer and he gets a lot of input from tammy and tommy about what kinds of stories he should write. so they probably all tell each other a bunch of stories and come up with ideas together.

timmy believes in the importance of play and imagination so he makes sure to share that with tammy and tommy.

[livelaughlou]

Plausible Deniability

Ficlet of how I imagine it could go if Tommy is involved in ground ops for the plane landing because I couldn't resist. From Eddie's pov. I don't know why. lol.

Eddie really feels like they should have seen this coming. He can tell he and Chimney clock Tommy's presence by the 217 engine at the same time, chatting with one of his guys, and Eddie realizes that he may not know Buck isn't with them.

That is confirmed almost immediately when Tommy rushes up, looks around, and says, "Where's Evan?"

Eddie grimaces as Chimney looks toward him. "Uh," Chim says. "Eddie'll tell you."

"Traitor," Eddie hisses and Chimney just shrugs.

Tommy is eyeing them. "You guys? Why isn't he here?"

Eddie looks at his phone and the obviously hastily typed out text that reads 'on 110, clearing traffic for landing', and winces.

"I can tell you what he's not not doing," Eddie hedges and he hears Chimney snort beside him. "He's not not on the 110, helping Bobby clear traffic with a fake fire engine from the show he's working on."

Although, now that he thinks about it, he's kind of surprised Tommy doesn't know that. He knows he and Buck are practically joined at the hip and he knows this because he's often the third wheel, even though they really do try their best. "He didn't text you?"

Tommy exhales in frustration. "I left my phone in my locker. I was on a call right before they mobilized everyone."

"There you go," Eddie encourages. "You're probably going to find a whole string of texts from him when you get your phone back."

Unfortunately, this does not seem to make Tommy feel better. "So, you're saying he's in the path of a damaged plane being flown by someone not actually trained to fly one with only Bobby and an actor to back him up?"

And okay, when he says it like that...

"Not not," Chimney supplies and Eddie elbows him sharply, starting a brief but intense elbowing back and forth.

Tommy is rubbing the bridge of his nose like he's got a migraine coming on and Eddie thinks that's probably fair.

He hands his phone over. "Here, check in on him. You know the drill, he'll answer if he can. No sexting!"

"No promises," Tommy mutters but takes the phone gratefully and Eddie thinks there is probably going to be more scolding than sexting, but honestly, he doesn't put anything past them. He vows to delete the whole thread when this is all over.

Tommy's just finishing off a text, looking marginally less worried, so Eddie knows he must have gotten ahold of him when they get word they're heading to the 110 to meet them and they all scramble to get on the way, Tommy handing his phone off with a hurried 'thank you.'

Eddie knows that Buck is good at his job and he knows that Tommy knows that too. It's still hard, though, not to be worried anyway.

If, when the plane is down, people are safe, Athena is being hugged within an inch of her life by Bobby, and they're helping the injured passengers onto land, and he sees Tommy and Buck share a brief but heartfelt kiss in the midst of the crowd of people not likely to notice in the chaos?

Well, he'll make fun of them for it later.

[thissortofsorcery]

Thinking about how insufferably smug billy would be once he realised he was Steve’s bi-awakening 😌

Oh he WOULD be. He's so obsessed with Steve - crush at first sight - that when he hears the Steve never really thought about guys before Billy started grinding up on him during basketball practice...

Imagine it like this: after they get together, Billy kind of assumes that Steve must have at least fumbled around with a guy before - but that's mostly due to Tommy's obvious jealousy rather than anything Steve does. Though the lack of a freakout (because monsters) is a little sus too.

And then, one day Steve is like in a reflective mood. They're cuddling on the living room couch, Billy's back to Steve's chest, snug in between Steve's long legs. Steve's stroking a hand over Billy's naked torso, feeling him up a little because obviously, and Billy hums, stretches his back and looks back at Steve, says:

"You really like my chest, huh."

Steve's hand pauses over Billy's left right pec, thumb brushing over a nipple, making Billy twitch. There's a pause before he answers, and his voice is soft and mellow.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I mean, it's a really nice chest."

Billy laughs. "I know." He licks his lips. "What do you like about it?" He asks, and he tells himself it's because he wants to hear Steve say how hot he is, and not due to any lingering insecurities about being the first guy Steve's dated.

Steve breathes deep, and Billy's body moves with it, like they're one.

"I like that it's firm," Steve says, running his fingers lightly over Billy's sternum. "I like how wide it is. I like your nipples. Round and brown." Steve's pinky brushes over Billy's nipple, light as a feather, and Billy shivers. "I like how hard you work on it."

Billy turns his head to stare resolutely ahead, willing his face to cool because he's sure he's bright red. Steve's hand is distracting, and his words wash over Billy like cool ocean water, lighting him up from the inside and settling something warm deep in his chest.

"Careful, Harrington," Billy goads. "Or I might think you like me, or something."

Steve's breath is a huff against Billy's ear.

"I mean, I do. Thought it was obvious," Steve says. "You know I'd never thought about a guy like this before I met you."

Steve says it off-handedly, like it's common knowledge, but Billy can't hold in a surprised gasp, breath hitching at the very idea.

"I thought-"

"Thought what?" Steve asks, nose brushing over the shell of Billy's ear like he has no idea what it's doing to Billy's dick.

"You and Tommy never...?"

And Steve laughs, the fucker. "Tommy? No, man." His voice goes a little quiet. "You're the first guy I ever saw and thought like... 'Wow. He's gorgeous. I wonder what his lips taste like.' You know?"

"Yeah," Billy says, hand squeezing around Steve's knee. He knows the feeling a little too well, though Steve was far from the first guy he looked at with interest. But he is the prettiest, and he's by far the nicest guy he's been with, hands down, enough that sometimes Billy wonders what he did to deserve a guy like Steve. To deserve the kind of relationship they have.

It can only be described as wonder, the feeling that spreads through his chest, warm and fluttery. It's Billy who turned Steve's head, who pulled his pigtails until Steve paid attention, who plagued Steve's thoughts. Billy's the guy for whom Steve decided to get on his knees for the first time, who gets dicked down regularly and cuddled with in equal measure. Billy put in the work to get his attention and it paid off.

Suck it, Tommy.

"You couldn't resist me, huh?" Billy says, kind of joking and kind of not. "Couldn't wait to get a piece of me."

Steve huffs a laugh against Billy's ear again. "Nope."

"I mean, I am the best ass in Hawkins," Billy goes on. "We've established that."

"Sure have."

"When did you realize you wanted me?" Billy asks, all smug. "Was it during basketball? Shirt off, all sweaty all over your back?"

"You smiled at me," Steve says, and Billy feels like he's been hit over the head. "I mean, the real one. With the dimples. After we won that last game in December. You smiled at me, and I really wanted to kiss you."

"Oh," Billy says. "All I had to do was smile at you?" He feels a little big indignant, but he'll take it.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I mean, I was looking during basketball practice. It was a little rough trying to play with a half-chub all the time."

"How do you think I felt?" Billy grumbles. "With those tiny shorts of yours?"

"You like my shorts."

"Yeah, I like the shorts, that's beside the point." Billy wriggles around until he's laying on his stomach, chest to chest with Steve. "You wanted me," he says, lips stretched in a smile so wide it shows all his teeth.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I did."

Steve brushes away a curl from Billy's face, finger poking at the dimple on his cheek. Billy has no choice but to kiss him.

---

Not sure this was what you had in mind but I had to do it!