#and the show was 10 times better than Boston

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of court, slight angst

Leaving the courthouse, I couldn’t shake the buzzing energy coursing through me. My feet moved faster than my brain, and before I knew it, I was on the subway. I didn’t need to think about where I was headed, I just knew I had to tell someone, and it had to be Willow. She’d understand better than anyone. After all, we had just talked about both Chris and Nate only a few days ago. The odds of bumping into Chris after reminiscing about him? Too weird.

I had Willow's live location on my phone and saw she was home. Perfect. No need for a warning text. I got off the subway and sped walked to her apartment in Beacon Hill and hurried up the steps, barely pausing to catch my breath before knocking. When she opened the door, her face lit up with curiosity.

“Oh hey! Everything alright?”

I stepped inside quickly, my heart still racing. “You’re not going to believe who I just ran into.”

Her eyes widened as she shut the door behind me. “Who?”

“Chris.” I said, my voice almost breathless.

“Wait, Chris Chris?” she asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Yes, that Chris.” I confirmed, and her jaw dropped.

“Oh my God! You have to tell me everything.”

We walked into her living room, as I spilled every detail of my courthouse encounter. 

“I saw him at the courthouse. He was there for Nate, apparently, but Willow.. he looked so good."

Willow dropped onto the couch, her mouth open in disbelief. "Oh my god. What are the odds of that?"

"I know, right?" I said, feeling my face flush again. "We had a little catch up when we ran into eachother outside. Nothing serious, but I was dying inside the whole time. Then Nate showed up, and it got a little awkward, but Chris asked if we could hang out sometime."

She leaned forward, wide eyed. "And what did you say?"

"I said yes obviously, have you seen the man?"

"Well no.. no one has in years." Willow laughs. “What was Nate there for?”

“Uh something about over possession of weed, I should’ve been listening better but I was kind of in a state of shock.”

“Oh..bit of a red flag.. but you have to admit..” she said, grinning, “the universe is totally messing with you right now. We were just talking about him and now he’s asking you to hang out.”

“I know, it’s crazy.” I shook my head, still processing it all. “Speaking of listening better, I need to write a report on the court case today, can I stay here and do it?”

“Yeah of course,but can get takeout or something?” Willow suggests.

We spent the next hour gossiping, ordering pizza, and chatting about Chris, all while I tried to write my report. Our food arrived and the moment I closed over my laptop, my phone dinged. I instinctively glanced at the screen, and my heart skipped a beat.

It was an Instagram notification.

I checked it, and there it was – a message from Chris. I stared at the screen for a second, then gasped, my eyes widening in disbelief.

“What? What happened?” Willow asked, almost dropping the boxes of pizza.

I turned to her with a mix of shock and smugness, unable to hide my excitement. “It’s him.”

“No way.” She said dropping the boxes on the table and rushing over, peering at my phone. “What did he say?”

I read the message aloud. “He asked if we could plan a date.”

Willow squealed, nearly knocking over her drink. “You have to respond. Now.”

“I don’t want to seem desperate!” I protested. “Let me wait a few minutes. Just.. you know, play it cool.”

But Willow wasn’t having it. “Y/n, please. It’s Chris. The way you’ve gone on the last few days you’d think you’re yearning for the love of your life.”

Reluctantly, I typed out a reply, my fingers shaking slightly as I hit send. Almost instantly, my phone buzzed again with his response.

@christophersturniolo: Great! How about dinner at Woods Hill on Friday?

I glanced at Willow, my heart racing all over again. “He’s suggesting a fancy restaurant.”

“Of course he is” she said, a smirk on her lips. “You better say yes.”

I nodded, my mind spinning, and quickly agreed to the plan. A moment later, another message popped up, this time with his phone number.

@christophersturniolo : Text me your address on Friday, and I’ll pick you up.

I couldn’t believe how quickly this was happening. But as excited as I was, a small part of me couldn’t help but wonder... Woods Hill was a pretty fancy place, how was he affording something like that? I knew his family situation wasn’t great, but I couldn’t base it off that after all these years, I wondered what he was doing with himself now, but i’m sure i’d find out soon enough.

Friday came faster than I expected. I stood in front of the mirror, checking my reflection for what felt like the hundredth time. My outfit was simple but elegant – a blue grey two piece set, something that worked for a nice dinner but wasn’t too over the top. I wanted to look good, but not like I was trying too hard. My parents were out of town for the weekend, I was relieved I didn’t have to explain this whole “first date with a guy I haven’t seen in six years” situation.

After one last glance at my reflection, I texted Chris my address: 

28 Glenland Rd, Brookline.

He replied almost immediately.

Chris S: On my way. See you soon!

I tried to stay calm, but my nerves were all over the place. What would we even talk about? How was he doing after all these years? Was this going to be awkward? I didn’t have much time to dwell on it because soon enough, I saw his car – a black Mercedes, pull up outside. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs.

Chris was waiting outside, leaning casually against his car with that same confident smile. He looked good, almost too good.

“You look amazing.” he said, holding the car door open for me.

“Thanks” I smiled, feeling a little more at ease as I got in.

As we drove to Woods Hill, the conversation between Chris and me felt effortless, like slipping into a familiar rhythm. It wasn’t long before we were laughing about old memories from being teenagers, moments we hadn’t spoken about in years. I couldn’t help but glance over at him, the sound of his laughter making me feel nostalgic and.. something more. It was like time hadn’t passed at all, yet everything felt new.

But there was a shift in the air as we neared the restaurant. Woods Hill was upscale, the kind of place that required a reservation and wasn’t cheap. As much as I enjoyed his company, I couldn’t help but continue to wonder-how was he affording this? I debated whether to ask or let it slide.

Chris seemed to notice my silence as he pulled into the parking lot. “You okay?” he asked, shooting me a glance that was both teasing and concerned.

I smiled, trying to brush off the worry. “Yeah, it’s just.. you seem like you’re doing well for yourself” I said, keeping my tone light but curious.

His smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, flashing me that same charming grin I remembered. “I’m getting by.”

There was something unspoken in his response, something that left a lingering question in the back of my mind. But I let it go for now. The valet took the car, and we headed inside.

Once seated, the ambiance hit me immediately. The restaurant was warm and intimate, with soft lighting and elegant decor that made it feel like we were the only two people there. I caught Chris’s eye across the table, and for a moment, it felt like time slowed down. There was something about the way he looked at me, like he was really seeing me, not just the girl he used to know but the woman I had become. It made my heart skip a beat.

The waiter came and took our orders, and as the quiet settled between us, Chris leaned in a little closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “So” he said, voice low and warm, “what are you doing in college? What’s the big plan for you?”

I couldn’t help but smile. He always had a way of making me feel like I was the only thing that mattered. “I’m studying law.”

His eyebrows shot up, genuine surprise lighting up his face. “Law? Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a lot, but I love it” I said, feeling a little rush of pride. “I want to help people, maybe work in criminal law eventually.”

He leaned back, his eyes locked on mine, so surprised it almost knocks the breath out of him. “Law.. I didn’t see that coming. But it suits you. You’ve always been sharp, and now you’re out here trying to change the world. That’s.. pretty amazing, Y/n.”

Hearing him say that made my heart flutter in a way I wasn’t expecting. His words were sincere, the admiration in his voice making me feel warm inside. The way my pulse quickened every time his gaze lingered on mine. It wasn’t just catching up with an old friend. It was something more.

“I don’t know about changing the world just yet” I said, laughing softly. “But I work in my mom’s bridal studio too, you know, gotta earn my own living.”

“Oh she still has that going? I remember you going in there to get money off her when we hung out one day.”

“Oh my god I remember that day so well! We went and sat on the grass in Public Garden for hours just chatting, so weird to think of how long ago that is now.. What do you do for work actually?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

Chris hesitated, just for a split second, but it was enough for me to notice. “I.. do some odd jobs here and there. Nothing major. Kind of like freelance”

“Oh that’s cool” I replied, not trying to look too deep into anything, even though alarm bells were going off in my mind. Maybe it would come with time where he opened up about his own life a bit more. 

But in saying that, not too long after he told me he was still living in Somerville, but no longer with his family.

“I’m staying with my uncle now” he explained, sipping his drink. “Medford Street.”

I paused, the name ringing a bell. “Medford Street? That’s kind of a rough area, isn’t it?”

He shrugged, brushing it off. “Yeah, it’s not the nicest, but it works for now.”

I nodded, though something about his response didn’t sit right with me. The easy way he dismissed it, like he didn’t want to get into too much detail. There was more going on than he was letting on, but I didn’t push it. Not tonight.

As we continued talking, I felt myself softening toward him more and more. Every laugh, every shared memory seemed to pull us closer together. It was like we were both trying to pick up where we’d left off, but with this added intensity, like we were discovering each other all over again. And for some reason, it felt fast, like we were diving headfirst into something neither of us fully understood yet.

I pondered with the thought of asking him if he was seeing someone else, was this just a casual thing he does with girls or was there potential with this? Before the words could leave my mouth, Chris’ phone started to buzz on the table.

I froze, my eyes darting to his phone screen. Chris picked it up so fast that I couldn’t see the caller name properly, only that their name began with V. The only name beginning with V that came to mind was Vanessa. God, please don’t let him be entertaining other girls.

But Chris quickly silenced the phone, his easy smile returning as if nothing had happened. “Sorry about that” he said, brushing it off. “Just work.”

I wanted to ask more, but something in his tone made me stop. Instead, I smiled back, but my mind was racing. Who was this V person? And what was this “work” he kept mentioning? God is he a sex worker now or something? I’m not trying to jump to conclusions or anything but I’d rather just know.

Still, as the night wore on, it was hard to deny the pull between us. We laughed, we teased, and every time our eyes met, it felt like something electric passed between us. By the time we finished dinner, I felt more connected to Chris than I had in years, maybe more than I ever had before.

Chris’ phone rang again and he grabbed it immediatly and stood up. “I’m so sorry I have to take this.”

As Chris walked outside to take the call, leaving me alone at the table, a knot tightened in my stomach. I stared down at my half empty drink, stirring it absentmindedly. What had I gotten myself into? The evening had started so well, easy conversation, genuine laughter, but now, the air felt heavy with something unspoken. There was an edge to Chris, a shadow of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, and the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I became.

When he returned, his expression was tense, his smile forced. I could see it in the way his shoulders hunched, the way his jaw tightened as he approached the table. “I’m really sorry, Y/n” he said, his voice strained. “I have to go take care of something. It’s work related.”

My heart sank. This wasn’t the carefree Chris I’d reconnected with earlier in the night. There was something off, and it was glaringly obvious now. I nodded, trying to keep my tone neutral, though disappointment raged through me like a thick fog. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah” he replied quickly, too quickly, his eyes avoiding mine. “Just a bit of chaos. I’ll drop you home.”

The drive back felt like a far cry from the laughter and comfort we’d shared earlier. A thick silence filled the car, and every so often, I would steal a glance at him, hoping for some kind of explanation. But he kept his eyes on the road, hands gripping the wheel a little too tightly. The lightheartedness, the connection from earlier, it was gone, replaced by an invisible wall between us.

I fiddled with the strap of my bag, my thoughts racing. Why wasn’t he telling me the truth? Whatever this “work” was, it had a hold on him, and for some reason, he didn’t think I could handle knowing what it was. The more I thought about it, the more upset I became. If this was going to work, if we were going to be anything, I needed more than half truths.

When we finally pulled up outside my house, I was desperate for the night to end, but part of me didn’t want to leave things this way. I reached into my bag, fumbling for my keys, only to realise they weren’t there. “Oh shit” I muttered under my breath. “I forgot my key, on my way out.. The door just automatically locks behind me and my parents are out of town.”

Chris offered a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No problem. I can wait until you figure something out.”

I glanced over at him, searching for any sign of the man I’d spent the evening with, the one who had made me laugh, who had seemed so familiar. But all I saw now was someone distant, someone keeping secrets. “Actually” I said slowly, an idea sparking in my mind, “I can climb up to my balcony through the treehouse. It’s.. kind of a weird setup, but it works.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, a genuine laugh escaping his lips this time, the tension easing just a bit. “I’ve gotta see this.”

We walked around the side of the house, and I led him to the old treehouse. The previous owners had built it for their kids, and it connected perfectly to the balcony outside my bedroom. The wood creaked as I climbed, feeling like I was a kid all over again. When I reached the top, I looked down at Chris, who stood below, arms crossed, watching with a bemused expression.

“See?” I called down, forcing a smile. “Easy.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Alright, I’m impressed.”

I lingered for a moment, leaning against the railing, wanting to say more but unsure of what. “Goodnight, Chris” I finally said, my voice soft.

“Goodnight, Y/n” he replied, his smile still faint but warmer than before. “I’ll text you.”

I nodded, turning away as I opened the door to my bedroom, thank god I’d a habit of keeping it unlocked, and into the safety of my room. The second I collapsed onto my bed, all the emotions I’d been hiding the last hour rushed to the surface. The excitement, the sparks from earlier, they were overshadowed by something darker now. That nagging feeling of disappointment sat heavy in my chest, pulling me down.

Chris was hiding something, something big. And as much as I wanted to ignore it, to brush off the unease gnawing at me, I couldn’t. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for the truth, but I knew one thing for certain. If we were going to fall for each other, this secret, whatever it was, would be standing in our way. And I wasn’t sure how much of it I could take.

a/n: "freelance" is hilarious to me lol

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @slutniolo @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa

[anyarose011]

Christmas Time is Here {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Christmas (FINALLY) has arrived! What better way to spend the day full of cheer than with your family (and the boy you previously didn't really care for until just a few days prior). It'd be better if you could spend it in Boston as well...

Part 7 of 10 (Masterlist)

Warnings: Making out, swearing, talk of sex, and jokes about pimping out one's father.

Heyyyyyyy, what's uppppp, it's meeeeee. So...okay, long story short, I got back from strudying abroad and have been using this summer to just readjust to America (it's been rough, low key). So I just want to apologize for the long wait, and I hope this chapter is worth it. Also, because the main characters in this story (reader and Angus) are minors, I WILL NOT be adding smut. Still, thank you guys so much for your patience!

Word Count: 6.4k

You thought you slept in at first, until you glanced at the clock on the nightstand and read ‘7:30am’. Groaning, you sat up, rubbing your face when the realization hit you: It was Christmas!

That’s what caused you to leap out of your bed and immediately look under it, pulling out the three horribly wrapped gifts in newspapers tied with a twine ribbon. Before you could do anything else, a light knock on the doorway made you flinch.

“Yeah?” You whispered.

“Are you decent?”

Giggling at Angus’ use of your words from last night, you said. “Not really, I’m still in my pajamas.”

“Get dressed, I wanna show you something.”

You snorted. “You’re not gonna kill me or something, are you?”

“No, but on an unrelated note, we’re going off campus.”

“Wait,” your face dropped. “seriously?”

He snickered. “No. It’s just in the theater.”

You shook your head. “Okay, I’ll meet you in the hall.”

His footsteps echoed outside, and you decided to give him his gift early. After changing into a long-sleeved shirt and pants, then your socks and boots, you slipped out of the door whilst hiding the present behind your back.

“What’s behind your back?” Angus immediately asked once he saw you.

“Merry Christmas to you too.” You teased. “It’s nothing.”

“Amy…”

Sighing overdramatically, you held out the gift. His eyes grew to the size of the moon (both things that you still think are beautiful) as he took it from you. “I…what is this?”

“Well,” you shrugged. “it’s a present, but you kind of have to open it to-.”

“-No, I mean…I didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s okay, I don’t want anything.”

“Hey-.”

“-Ordinary people say ‘thank you’ and open the damn thing.” You smirked.

He mirrored your expression before tearing the newspapers. It was almost funny to you how Angus Tully looked as if his breath was stolen from his lungs just at the sight of Little Women in his hands.

“This is yours.”

“Well, it’s yours now. That’s kind of how gifts work.”

“It’s your favorite though.”

“Who told you it’s my favorite?” You tilted your head, as if challenging him.

You’d never seen a face whiter than the snow outside. “I-I, um, shit.”

“No,” you shook your head. “you’re telling me you kiss me so hard my lips turned blue in the kitchen-!”

“-Hey, hey! Shut up!” He tried to be serious but only ended up laughing.

“But you can’t remember what my favorite book is?!”

Taking a deep breath, Angus then said. “I’m sorry, okay?”

A smile pulled onto your lips. “Yeah, I’m just messing with you.”

“You’re horrible.”

“Thank you.” A giggle fell from you. “Oh god, I hope my dad didn’t hear that.”

“I checked his bed, he’s out somewhere.”

“Alright,” you shrugged. “escort me to the theater then.”

He grinned from ear to ear as he led you through the halls. Unashamedly, you were a bit disappointed; you wished he’d taken your hand. Still, despite the sun being out, to your knowledge, you were the only two people awake. You wouldn’t blame Mary for sleeping in, and it was Christmas, no way Danny would waste his time with you three; that man had family in Worcester.

When you and Angus made it to the theater, you both walked up the steps to the stage and after he set the book down on the floor, he leaned against the piano.

You crossed your arms, smirking. “Mr. Tully, you better not serenade me.”

“I’m not singing.” He tried not to smile.

“So, there is a God.”

“Quit it.” He snickered. “Sit down, I’m gonna teach you how to play the piano.”

Raising your brow, you said. “You told me you hadn’t played since you were ten.”

“I hadn’t taken lessons since I was ten. We have a piano back at home, so I still play sometimes.”

“Never here?”

“Never here. Come on.” he tilted his head to the bench.

Rolling your eyes, you sat down, placing your hands on the keys. Angus came to stand beside you. “Okay, you know the alphabet?”

“What the hell is that?”

“Perfect.” He scoffed, then pointed to the white keys. “So, you only have to know ‘A’ to ‘G’. If this,” he pressed the white key in the middle of the piano between two black keys. “is ��D’, then what is this?” He hovered his finger above the white key to the right of it.

“E.” You said simply. “I do know that this ‘B’ key is out of tuned though.”

You reached over his arm and played the ‘C’ an octave above, bringing your face just a little closer to his. He smiled. “Okay smartass, you do know what the alphabet it.”

“Yeah, I just don’t know how to play anything, that’s all.”

Angus took your right hand in his hand (fucking finally), and brought your fingers to play the ‘E’ and ‘D#’ a few times before then ‘B’, ‘D’, ‘C’, and ‘A’.

“Know that one?” He asked.

“‘Fur Elise’.” You grinned at the name. “And you’re sure you wish I was your first kiss?”

He answered plain and simple. “I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you decided to keep toying with him. “what comes next? And I’m pretty sure I have to use my other hand at some point.”

You expected a retort from him, but he only went behind you and grabbed your left hand. Gently, he pressed his fingers over yours, and guided you to slowly play the piece by Beethoven. It was peaceful to say the least; well, as peaceful as it could be while your heart was trying to beat itself out of your chest.

As his chest hovered against your back, you decided to soothe your own worries.

“Son of a bitch, you just wanted to hold my hand!” You teased.

The music stopped as he pressed his face against your shoulder while laughing. It should’ve made you uneasy how just at ease he was around you; but perhaps you both had already acted like this before you kissed. Perhaps, with only being around him for a week, you had come to know him as a close friend (even with how much you loathed him at first).

He took his head off your shoulder and looked at you, his nose practically against yours. “And what if I did?”

This was the part where you were supposed to say something smart in return and make him feel just a bit stupid. But…were his eyes always that brown and beautiful?

You were just a girl; no one should blame you for immediately throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him.

Luckily, unlike the night before, he was less surprised this time. His arms were around your waist, and whether he meant to or not, he pulled you down to the floor with him when his own legs gave out.

Still, even though the sudden shift of your body caused you to squeak out in surprise, your lips didn’t leave his as your hands soon carded through his hair, and his moved further down your hips.

“I don’t want to do anything more,” you said quickly between kisses. “I don’t want to do anything more!”

His lips moved down to your neck, one of his hands came back up to cradle your jaw tenderly. “Me neither.”

“Okay.” You answered, your voice slightly pitched as he kissed your neck. Angus laid you down as softly as he could on the stage and hovered above you; his kisses never leaving your skin. His hand found yours and held it above your head as he brought his lips back up to yours. Even with it being clumsy, nothing in your whole life had felt so…good.

You wondered just how anyone on earth could get anything done after being kissed like this for the first time.

Perhaps it is because they hear their father calling their name.

At the sound of your father’s voice echoing through the halls, you and Angus froze. With one look, you both immediately pulled away, and he got off you, sitting on the piano bench and putting his hands on the keys.

It was quite comedic how that was the first time you heard him play; and he was quite good at it.

Luckily, you managed to get up and lean against the piano the moment the door to the auditorium opened and soon slammed shut. Angus stopped playing, and you both looked up and saw your father, huffing as if to catch his breath from running around everywhere.

“Merry Christmas.” Were his first words, and after both you and Angus repeated his sentiment, he then asked. “Where the hell have you been?”

You shrugged. “Just here.”

His eyes traveled to you and then to Angus, who, like any nervous teen boy who’d nearly been caught after making out with the teacher’s daughter, waved. Your father simply nodded. “Well, come on. I have something to show you two.”

He left through the doors he came in, and after you and Angus glanced at each other, you both followed; Angus picking up the book of course. Your father took you both to the dining hall where Mary had been waiting, and proudly presented a frankly shabby Christmas tree with some wrapped gifts to you.

“No ornaments?” Angus asked.

“Oh,” your father sighed. “I’m sure we can round up some ornaments somewhere. Uh, now.” He picked up one of the gifts, handing it to Angus. “This is for you.”

The boy glanced up at him as if he handed him the best thing he could receive that day (next to your copy of Little Women of course). He tore it open, and it was revealed to be another book.

“‘Meditations.’” Your father read the title. “by Marcus Aurelius. For my money, it’s like the Bible, the Koran and the Bhagavad Gita all rolled up into one. And the best part is not one mention of God.”

Mary huffed, obviously not a fan.

“And this,” he handed her the other package under the tree. “is for you.”

She opened it, revealing another book of ‘Meditations’. “So, you just give this to everyone?”

“And.” He gave her the other gift under the tree; that being a horribly wrapped bottle of whiskey.

That got her to smile wide as she took it. Your father, grabbing the final package under the tree, then handed it to you. “Yes, it’s a book, no, it’s not ‘Meditations’.”

Smiling, you unwrapped it and stood absolutely still in shock before exploding into a cheer. “Where did you get this?! I couldn’t find even in Boston!”

“The day trip we took to New York for Thanksgiving? Found it while you wandered off in the bookstore.” He joked.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried.

“What is it?” Angus asked, looking over your shoulder.

“Maria,” you answered. “by Mary Wollstonecraft. She’s Mary Shelley’s mom.”

“Like, Frankenstein Mary Shelley?”

Oh, how much you wanted to kiss him just because he knew the author of a popular book. Still, you didn’t know how many men even knew a woman wrote one of the most iconic stories of all time. Still, your father and closest woman you had to a mother in years were watching you, so you settled on shoving him.

“That’s right; maybe you’re not that stupid.�� Before he could verbally respond, you were almost out the door. “I got something for you guys, be right back!”

You felt like a little girl again as you ran through the halls and up the stairs into the infirmary room before taking the shittly wrapped presents off your bed. You slid down the main staircase railing before barging back into the dining hall where it looked like barely anything had changed.

“What was my time?” You asked your father, a huge smile on your face.

He gave a look. “You didn’t ask us to time you.”

“Happy Christmas.” You handed him his gift, then repeated the same action and sentiment to Mary.

Your father was the first one to open his, and a pleasant smile spread upon his face while holding it up to you; a coloring book of ancient Rome.

“How’d you know I wanted this?” He joked. He had perhaps almost every single book on Roman history, so you had to get creative.

You shrugged. “Oh, you wouldn’t stop talking about it, remember?”

Mary opened hers next, grinning from ear to ear once it was unwrapped. A pink pocket-sized prayer book. “How’d you know I lost mine?”

“Because you told me.”

She hugged you, pinching your cheek when she pulled away. “You’re an angel.”

“Oh, Angus,” Your father took the forgotten envelope out from under the tree, handing it to the boy beside you. “this came in the mail for you.”

He opened it, and glancing over his arm, you saw cash stuffed inside of the card with “Greetings of the Season and Best Wishes for a Happy New Year” printed inside, with the only written words being: “Love, Mom and Stanley.” Not any personalized notes or words of adoration anywhere to be found.

You wanted to squeeze his hand, give him any traditional sense of comfort; yet you weren’t ready to explain to your father and mother figure about the both of you…you weren’t dating, but you were something. So, instead, you merely pushed yourself against his side and acted annoying.

“Fuck, you’re loaded.” Mary scoldingly said your name, but you continued. “Well, he is! Yeesh, you should be paying off my father’s retirement if you hate him that much.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Emma Woodhouse.” You father rolled his eyes.

Angus, fortunately, snorted. “I’ll think about it.”

“Alright,” Mary placed her hands on her hips. “now who’s hungry?”

As usual, the four of you had a lovely breakfast; although, this time, per Christmas tradition, you each had a little piece of chocolate with your pancakes she made. When helping her with the dishes, you saw that only one Christmas cookie you left out the night prior had remained.

When the dishes were done, you and Mary pulled the men into the teacher’s lounge.

“So why are we being held against out will?” Angus joked.

Your father sighed. “It’s almost ten-thirty.”

“And?”

“Charlie Brown!” You cheered, plopping yourself down on the carpet in front of the TV to turn it on.

“It’s the one tradition we have each Christmas,” your father explained and lowered his voice to Angus and Mary. “and one I wouldn’t mind getting rid of.”

“If you want to go drink alone while reading Agatha Christie, go ahead.” You announced, not turning to look at him as you flipped through the channels.

Mary and Angus merely laughed, and you proudly sat down on the couch. Your father mumbled incoherently, but before he could take a seat beside you, Mary grabbed his arm.

“Now, now, come help me make popcorn for the movie.”

Sighing, he let her lead him out of the teacher’s lounge and into the kitchen. Angus soon sat where your father would’ve if not for Mary. You smiled.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” He grinned, and there was silence (as always) between the two of you. One that was broken with. “Thank you.”

You tilted your head. “What for?”

“Just…” He laughed. “for liking me I guess. Also, for what you said about the stupid card and everything.”

Smiling, you glanced up to see if your father and Mary were close by. When you determined they weren’t, you took his face into your hands and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, dumbass.” You pulled away, looking back at the movie as little children start to sing Christmas Time is Here. “Just don’t bitch for the rest of the day.”

He snorted. “I’ll try my best.”

And he did. The four of you watched the movie, and after that, you and Angus went back up to the infirmary and spent the rest of the afternoon reading. Definitely not kissing at all; for sure not.

When you weren’t reading, you were either talking about stupid shit-.

“I thought I heard somewhere that plants can feel pain, do you think that’s true?” You asked, looking up at him while you laid at the end of his bed, your feet by his head.

“…I just want to thank you for letting me peek inside your mind and to see how weird it is.”

Or, surprisingly emotional conversations.

Angus nodded as he laid on the bed, you at his side. “Yeah, I mean…I had a good childhood, it just felt…weird sometimes.”

“I get it.” You rested your head on his shoulder as you both stared at the ceiling.

Still, it was perhaps the longest and most intimate interaction you ever had with a person up until then. How strange it was with a boy you hated only days ago.

Hours later, Mary called you both down for supper (luckily what was reheated from the previous night), and despite there only being four of you, you felt less lonely than when you had at the party. You sat beside Mary, not minding when the smoke of her cigarette tickled your nose.

“Thank you Mary,” your father smiled at her once he was finished. “that was just lovely.”

“Oh, is that an actual compliment?” You never heard Mary sound so surprised. He sighed heavily, and you didn’t bother holding back your laughter.

Angus set down his silverware. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a real family Christmas like this. Christmas dinner, I mean, family style, out of the oven, all the trimmings. My mom always just orders in from Delmonico’s.”

Mary nodded. “She’s got the right idea. Next year, I’m ordering from Delmonico’s.”

“Anyway, thank you, Mary.”

She winked at him, then turned to you. “Well? You got something to say?”

You squinted your eyes mid-chew. After swallowing, you replied with. “The meat’s a bit raw, don’t you think?”

“Oh, none of that today!” She scolded you as everyone else giggled. “Ungrateful child on Christmas.”

“It’s great, Mary.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Your father rose a glass. “I’d like to propose a toast. To my two unlikely companions on this snowy island, to my lovely daughter, and to our absent friends and family.” There was a pause much obviously for your mother and Curtis as if they were at the table with you. “I realize that none of us is here because he or she wants to be, so if there’s anything I can do to make the holidays a little cheerier for any of you, just say the word.”

“Copenhagen.” You didn’t miss a beat.

“Try again next year, Josephine.”

Angus shrugged. “Boston.”

“Boston?” Your father wrinkled his nose. “Why?”

“Why not? I want a real Christmas. I want to go ice skating. I want to see a real Christmas tree with ornaments, not that stupid thing.”

That was what you couldn’t take (as a joke, obviously). “How dare you. You put some respect on that tree my father grew with his blood, sweat, tears, and other fluids.”

Whilst the adults groaned your name in disgust, Angus stared down at his plate, his body trembling with repressed laughter.

“You both said it was nice.” Your father reencountered.

“It is nice.” Mary defended.

Angus, after recovering from his amusement, continued. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Let’s have a real holiday.”

 Your father huffed. “We’re not going to Boston. It’s out of the question.”

“You just told the kids ‘anything’. So, if Copenhagen doesn’t work, then why not Boston?” Mary argued.

“Mary, we’re not allowed to leave campus or the immediate environs.”

Well, it was your moment to shine. Now, here’s the trick: Usually, the ‘puppy dog eyes’ only work on parents from the ages of birth to nine. Sometimes, but not in your case, it can go on longer into the early 30s (that is, if your parents are total pushovers, or you’re a master manipulator). So, what do you do instead? Well, if it’s with your father, you do this:

Glance at him one last time as if to make a final plea, but then act as if you already know the answer and look down as if you’re trying not to show your sadness. You cannot be angry at all, just sad and disappointed so that he can assume you’re judging all of his life choices that he had made previously to lead him to this.

…It’s not easy, but it certainly gets you what you want (…there was like a 76% success rate last time you calculated it).

“But,” your father sighed upon looking at you and Angus. “I suppose we could call it a field trip. A field trip would fall under the ambit of additional academic pursuits. There’s even a fund set aside for additional academic pursuits.”

Despite him looking annoyed, you had a feeling deep down, he wouldn’t mind getting out of Barton. Angus gleefully rose out of his chair.

“I’ll go pack!”

You knew you couldn’t chase after him excitedly, so instead, you focused on your father.

“Now wait a minute,” you scowled. “so you not only listened but also let him persuade you into having us go to Boston, but you didn’t even bother with Copenhagen? That’s really sexist of you.”

He sighed, exhaustedly saying your name. “You’re a smart girl, so you should know that there’s a difference between a ten-hour flight across the world, and a-!” Of course he stopped when he saw your shit eating grin. “…and you’re a smart girl because you played me like a fiddle.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you got up from your seat and wrapped your arms around him, kissing his cheek. “Thank you, papa!”

He waved you off with a smile as you gathered up your dishes and glass, then went into the kitchen and placing them in the sink. You dashed up the stairs to the infirmary, to which you were greeted by Angus’ arms entrapping you.

Laughing, you reciprocated. “Why’re you like this?”

“I’m just happy, is that so shocking?”

“Yes.”

He pulled away only to then cup your cheeks in his hands and bring your lips to his. You sigh into his mouth, kissing him back.

“Does it ever stop?” You asked between kisses.

“What?” He led you to lie on the bed.

“You kissing me all the time."

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare.” You meekly threatened, pulling him back down.

Neither of you started packing for another fifteen minutes; not until you heard your father’s footsteps in the hallway.

You surprised yourself by how well you slept that night. Usually, before an exciting day, you are restless. Yet, you actually jumped out of bed to get ready once your father came in to wake you up.

After a quick breakfast and an hour of waiting, the four of you were in the car on the way to Boston. A curse that you never thought possible is that you could not read in the car without throwing up; so, that forced Angus to read aloud (something that wasn’t a curse).

“‘That boy is a perfect Cyclops, isn’t he?’ said Amy.”

“That’s not what Amy sounds like.” You said matter of factly, laying almost flat in the backseat.

Angus sighed. “Well, she does today.”

“Mr. Tully,” your father looked in the rearview mirror. “is she implying that Amy usually sounds different?”

You grinned. “Yes I am.”

“Oh?” Mary arched her brow in interest.

“I’m not doing a voice.” Angus immediately retaliated.

Sighing dramatically, you stuck your bottom lip out. “Just this one line? Please?”

He stared at you as if you had him under a spell; either that, or your face was a monstrosity so terrible he couldn’t look away. It’s nice to think the first one. So, breathing heavily through his nose, he pitched his voice up.

“‘That boy ith a perfect thyclops, ithn’t he?’ said Amy.”

Needless to say, the car erupted into laughter.

You can’t quite remember what else was discussed between the four of you on that long drive. All you can recall is that you never once felt sorrow or pain from your mother’s absence. It was…lovely actually.

Soon, the car stopped outside Peggy Lamb’s triple decker apartment in Roxbury neighborhood. You hadn’t been there since you were thirteen for Thanksgiving. When, after your mother passed, Mary and Curtis invited both you and your father to dinner for the holiday. Then, just all of a sudden (much like Miss Crane’s Christmas parties), you stopped going.

“Here we are.” Mary announced.

“That’s an awful lot of stairs…” Your father trailed off.

“Probably icy too…”

Nope, not going to give your kissing buddy (what was Angus Tully to you? What were you to him?) a clue.

“Mr. Tully.”

“Right.” He nodded once he finally took the hint from your dad. He smiled. “Mary, can I help you with your bags?”

“Yes, please.” She smiled, and Angus got out of the car.

You leaned against Mary’s seat. “Mary, may I help you with your bags.”

“You may.”

You heard your father prod at just why you would want to go into the cold air and help Angus carry the bags but paid him no mind. You did though when it was Angus who asked.

“What’re you doing out here?” He popped the trunk.

“Mary asked me to help too.” You pulled out the large suitcase with all your strength. “She knew your noodle arms couldn’t handle it all.”

Scoffing, he took the hatbox and closed the trunk. “Seems like you’re handling it perfectly.”

“Of course, I am.” You did your best to hide the ache in your arms already forming as you led the way.

Mary, with her window rolled down, stopped you at the foot of the stairs. “Hey, why’s she carrying the suitcase?”

“She said she could handle it.” Angus replied.

“That’s not very gentlemanly of you.”

“Yeah, Angus.” You taunted as if him only carrying the box was his idea.

This was certainly not the first nor the last time you’d make his jaw drop from your wittiness. Sighing, he held out his hand for the suitcase, and you traded it for the hatbox.

“And be careful with the box,” Mary called your name. “Knowing you, you’ll drop it.”

You just stuck your tongue out playfully and continued up the stairs, Angus lugging the suitcase. “What do you think she packed in here, rocks?”

“I’d tell you, but you’d make a joke about how much women need to pack even though ‘We’re only here for a few days’.” You said in an accent that any man with low self-esteem would deem offensive.

He scoffed, stopping on the first floor. “Yeah, maybe.”

You tutted. “Ah, ah, ah, one more floor up.”

“What?”

“Peggy lives on the top floor.”

Angus sighed all the air that was left in his body before taking a deep breath. “I should’ve let you carry the damn bag.”

“But ya didn’t.” You smirked, leading him, once again, up the stairs.

When you both finally got to the top, you didn’t even need to knock on the door before Peggy and her husband came out to greet you.

“Oh, my goodness!” Peggy wrapped her arms around you once you set the box down. “It’s been too long.”

You laughed, hugging her back. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

She pulled away, but still holding your arms. “Never apologize, honey. And who’s this with you?”

Obviously, she was looking at the scraggly, 6’1 white boy behind you. Still, smiling, you introduced him.

“Angus; he goes to school at Barton and has been spending the holidays with us.”

“Aw,” Peggy shook his hand. “it’s nice to meet you.”

He nodded, grinning. “Nice to meet you too.”

“So,” she looked at you. “where’s that sister of mine?”

You tilted your head over ledge, and she and her husband walked over, waving and calling Mary’s name. Peggy turned back to you.

“Well, it’s been great seeing you again. If you ever need anything, you’re always welcome here.”

You nodded, smiling unwavering. “I’ll keep that in mind. Have a Happy New Year.”

She repeated the pleasantries and hugged you one final time before you and Angus started descending the stairs. When you passed by Mary, wishing her goodbye, she stopped you.

“Not yet, now you’ve gotta help me up there.”

“Oh yeah,” Angus offered her his arm. “sure thing.”

You resisted. “I already said hi to Peggy, am I excused?”

“I guess so.” She sighed as if you annoyed her.

Happy with her answer, you hugged her tightly and rushed into the front seat of the car, enjoying the warmth. In the corner of your eye, you saw your father arch his.

“You and Mr. Tully seem to be getting along finally.”

Glancing over, you nodded. “Yeah. He’s still a bit of an ass, but he’s not so bad.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Time.” You shrugged, hoping your years of (somewhat) lying paid off. “I guess forcing us together for a week in the cold really helps.”

He hummed, turning back to look at the front as if there was anything eye-catching about the road. Thankfully, it didn’t take Angus that long to walk Mary up the stairs, and he was soon in the back of the car.

Your father drove into the city centre of Boston, and parked outside of the hotel you three would be staying at. Of course, you had a room all to yourself (although, you only had a single bed and not a twin, but you were happy nonetheless).

After twenty minutes of getting situated, the three of you went out to explore the city (a city the three of you had been to multiple times but was still just as beautiful as the first day you saw it). You went through more parks you could count, streets that almost all looked the same but still something unique about each of them; it was just nice enough to walk and talk with your companions.

“Alright,” your father lit his pipe after the three of you had lunch. “it’s about one-thirty right now, what’s one thing everyone want to do today?”

“I have two things.” You said.

“One for now, Josephine.”

“Brattle’s Books.”

“Very good, even though you already have too many. Mr. Tully, what about you?”

He shrugged. “Just ice skating, honestly.”

“Wow.” your father released his breath. “I must say, I am impressed with how simple both your suggestions are.”

“What do you wanna do?” You asked.

“The Museum of Fine Arts, of course.” He began walking. You and Angus sighed as if it was the worst convenience in the world. Your father defended. “Oh, quit your bellyaching, both of you! This is still technically a field trip. Okay, what’s the second thing you want to do?” He asked you.

“A milkshake and fries.”

“That’s it?” He wrinkled his nose. “That disgusting concoction, is it?”

“Yes, and it’s not disgusting, you’re just a picky eater.”

Angus chimed in. “It doesn’t sound that appealing.”

“Who asked you?” You questioned.

Your argument ended there as the three of you made the journey to Brattle’s Book Store. Just as you did in the car, you talked about nothing and everything at the same time; perhaps that’s why those little moments of transitioning matter the most to you.

When you made it to Brattle’s, you spent a little time inside the actual store, but more of it outside in the large empty space between the two buildings. It was like it was another floor on the old bookstore, several upon several shelves hugging the walls, and smaller ones creating aisles on the floor.

You primarily were by yourself, keeping a mental list of more books to buy for later, and lose yourself quickly in between the pages and old smell of them. You hadn’t even noticed it’d begun to snow until Angus was beside you.

“So, you’re telling me it couldn’t have snowed all the times we were indoors?” He joked.

You looked up. “Of course not, God’s angry at us.”

“Why?”

Smirking, you nudged him. “Kissing outside of wedlock.”

“The worst of all sins.” He played along.

“Above heresy, even.”

“Hi there handsome,” a woman’s voice penetrated the air. “got a cigarette?”

Neither of you wanted to turn around to see who she was talking to (or acknowledge her if she was talking to Angus). So, communicating with just one look, you stayed put.

“No, sorry. I smoke a pipe.”

Well, so much for staying still. At the sound of your father’s answer, both you and Angus turned slowly. A woman with red hair tied up in a messy bun wearing the ugliest shade of yellow and a raggedy fur coat graced your presence.

“How about a date, then?” She tried again. “You want a date?”

“No thank you.” He took the pipe out, smiling nervously.

“Oh, come on, let’s go somewhere warm!”

“Go ahead.” Angus teased. “We can wait here.”

Jaw on the floor, you couldn’t even say anything at first.

“See?” The woman stuck her hands in her pockets. “They can wait here, read some books. They don’t mind if daddy gets a little candy cane.”

“Thank you, but I never really liked candy canes.” Your father picked up a book. “Plus, I’m prediabetic.”

She scowled, and turned over her shoulder, leaving. Angus leaned over the bookshelf in between the two of you and your father.

“You know, if you do want a little candy cane, I won’t tell anyone.”

You swatted him, finally. “Stop trying to pimp out my father, you…you…”

“What?” He grinned from ear to ear. “What am I?”

“Papa, cover your ears.” You looked at him.

“Mister Tully,” he said instead. “for most people, sex is ninety-nine percent friction and one percent good-will. Call me old fashioned, but I place value on physical intimacy, and so should you two.”

“I never-!”

“-You know,” Angus interrupted. “if it wasn’t for your kid in front of me right now, I would’ve thought you never had sex.”

Again, you struck him; this time, enough to leave a bruise.

“Ow!” He cradled his arm.

“You know,” you used his words. “if it wasn’t for your mom sending you to private school, I would’ve thought you were a cheap, common whore.”

Instead of scolding you, your father laughed. It’s not as if he never did, it was always just...a rarity and almost a blessing to hear him be so carefree.

“Mr. Tully, cover my daughter’s ears, would you?”

Angus followed through and you let him.

“Believe it or not,” your father continued. “there was a time when the fire in my loins burned white hot.”

“You’re full of shit.” Angus snickered.

“No, the details would curl your toes.”

“Okay, then let’s hear.”

He shook his head. “Whatever happened between my wife and I is none of your business; especially our daughter’s.”

“She can’t hear anything.”

“Yes, I can.”

His hands left your ears, leading both men to laugh. Nothing more was (thankfully) said about your father and mother’s sex life. It was after another ten minutes outside when your father announced it was time to go; not before having to use the bookstore’s bathroom. So, that left you and Agnus by yourselves for the first time since arriving.

“You’re horrible.” You playfully kicked his feet.

“You hit me!”

“You deserved it. God, you’re such a man.”

He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, with a smile, he reached into his coat pocket and brought something out. In his hands, he held a somewhat worn copy of The Little Prince, and two different colored ribbons.

Freezing where you stood, you could only stare at them. “What’s this?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Looking up at him, your parted lips couldn’t form words to express just the…surprise of it all. So, Angus continued.

“I bought it; the book at least. I found it inside, asked your dad for the money so I could get it for you, and that was it. The-the ribbons, I got one that was your favorite color, but then I remembered my mom would talk about how there’s some colors that look better in a girl’s hair, so I got one I thought-.”

You threw your arms around Angus and held him so close to you people would think you were using him for warmth. He froze at first before immediately melting into your embrace. You brought his face down to yours, kissing the tip of his nose before pulling away and taking the gifts into your hands.

“Holy shit…you’re too sweet.” You giggled, flipping through the book.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “So, you like it?”

“I love it, you idiot.”

“And if you find the book at your house when you go back-.”

“-I’ll keep this one too.” you cut him off. “You’re thoughtful, you know that?”

Angus stuck his hands in his pockets, kicking the snow at his feet. “It’s nothing.”

“Fuck you, it’s everything.”

“Well,” he shrugged, smiling. “since you said it so eloquently.”

You rolled your eyes with a playful grin, then held up the colored ribbon he deemed (and was correct about) would look good in your hair. “Can you put this one on, please?”

“Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat. “sure.”

You handed it to him, turning around. It wasn’t the first time he put his hands in your hair, but this time, with your back to him, it felt strange. Strange in a good way, but perhaps there wasn’t anything sensual about it, it felt that way.

And it was nice.

The feeling of it anyway; other than that, he had no idea what he was doing.

“What do you want it as?” He asked.

“Half-up, half-down.” You took a hair tie off your wrist, holding it our for him.

“What?”

“Like, instead of an actual ponytail, just make the top of my hair one, and leave the rest down.”

You didn’t even have to look at this man to know there was nothing going on inside his head trying to figure out what the hell you just said.

Thankfully, your father came out of the store.

“And what’s going on here?”

Angus looked over his shoulder. “I uh…”

“Step aside please, Mr. Tully.”

He did, and your father snatched the hair tie you were holding. “Half-up, half-down?”

“Yes, please.” You nodded.

“Do you know how to braid hair, Angus?” He asked, tying the hair tie around the ponytail he made.

“No.”

He hummed disapprovingly, sliding the ribbon into the hair tie and beginning to make a bow. “You should; it’s quite an important skill for a man.”

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter 7}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: Tensions run high as you can't seem to recover from your bout of sickness even though Tess is back on her feet and helping the newest member of your pack sort out some things. Neither of you had told Joel yet, bidding your time until some things are taken care of but you have a feeling it's more than just that if Tess's determined silence is anything to go by...

Word Count:

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, mean joel miller, degrading language, violence, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, references to injuries, blood, sexual content, rough sex, p in v, smut, unprotected p in v (it's the end of the world, y'all), sexual propositions, oral (f receiving), talk of pregnancy, angst, reference to off screen assault, medical jargon, mentions of nausea, mentions of past trauma, mentions of canon death, mentions of past childloss, i think that's it for this one!

Fic notes: we are officially 10 years into the apocalypse! joel is 46 at this point and cane is early 30's, but please imagine her to look anyway you want! these are just rough estimates and descriptions that are not set in stone as per the x reader tradition. simply a way for me to get the story fleshed out a bit c:

A/N: this fic really just got so big and it can't possibly be contained to the original ten chapters when i first started it. these two have really taken the reigns and i am all for letting them develop and flourish as they wish ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

Joel scrubs a hard hand over his face, brushing away as much of the ash and dirt as he can as he lowers the bandana wrapped around his head as a mask. It’s not much, but it eases his mind enough for him to keep using it.

He’s been pulling more shifts, as many as they could give him. You and Tess both being sick was something that worried him, stressed him out. The dangers of the end of the world were rampant, too many to count and keep track of. A weakened immune system brought on by fever and sickness was something from Before that he had completely lost the notion of.

Seeing you beaten up and bruised from fights or shows of power, from hard days working whatever shitty physical labor the zone needed done or from crawling your way through the rubble of the fallen city around them in search of things to trade and sell- it was different. Different than seeing you wrapped up in all the thin blankets in the shared apartment, that he could get his hands on only to still see the shivers that rack your body and chitter your teeth together. It was different than seeing you barely manage to keep water down to take the pills he paid far too much for only for you to gag on the weight of it settling in your empty stomach.

The scraps of chicken and bone he managed to trade for had cost so many ration cards. But the medicine, the stock he was able to pull from the bone- all of it was worth it for you and Tess to start to get better.

Well, Tess was better. You were…you were…are still sick. No longer plagued by fevers, cold spells, and heat flashes. But your stomach was unsettled, and your appetite was borderline gone, the weight you dropped a little concerning and the color drained from your skin.

He’s been playing caretaker to whatever extent you’ll allow him when he’s in the privacy of your shared apartment. Even if it’s as simple as refilling your mug with hot water for a second cup of tea, of collecting the bowl you had used to try and eat something with before he got home. He’s willing to do it, to do more. But you won’t let him. Determined to hold onto your independence in a way that both makes him proud and feel a little useless.

So he works. To provide. To make it easier. To give you space. Doing the long standing trades, showing his face more on that side of things while you’re unable to do so. Tess now, too, is back at it and it seems like you’ve given her clear orders on who to trade with and who not to as the weather grows colder.

But right now all he can focus on is the sprawled out form of you on the bed. Sheets and blankets tossed and kicked to the end of the bed and nearly crumpled on the floor as you pant heavy breaths while trying to find a comfortable position to fall back asleep.

The baser instincts in him rise at the smell of sweat and the sounds your making, the slight groan of the mattress beneath your wiggling form. it’s not that he wants it for himself, well, not just that he wants it for himself. But your body is stressed, it’s fighting, mind and nervous system out of whack. He’s on you the second he steps over the threshold into the room, determined to give you some sort of relief. To give you something else other than seemingly endless days of sickness and being unwilling to leave the building.

“Joel, ‘m still sick.” You mumble halfheartedly, that tug in your navel letting you know that despite everything, your body still sings for him- because of him. And it’s intoxicating, the immediate reaction as you feel plush lips against your skin, feel the weight of his body so close.

“Don’t matter, want you.”

His kisses are like fire, trailing down from your chin where he nips hard to your neck and chest. Tank top pulled up as carefully as he could manage, ridding you of the thin fabric. His lips close around hardened peaks to pull out desperate sounds from you, so sensitive to the soothing swipe of his tongue after biting teeth. His nose skims across your skin, the sharpness of it driving you wild as his hands make quick work of removing the pants you had fallen asleep in.

His teeth nip gently at the swollen lips of your cunt through the fabric of your underwear before he breaths in deep. “Gonna get you outta your head for a bit.”

And like a switch, your mind and body only focus on him.

The drag of his nose over the same place, the tug of his fingers pulling the now damp fabric down. The hot, thick line of his cock against your legs as he pulls them up to bend into your chest. His tongue swipes flat over your folds, delving between them after, shockwaves of pleasure so intense after experiencing nothing but aches and pains for the last couple of weeks. It pulls a moan deep from your chest, the responsive chuckle earning him another as you feel the vibrations of it skitter across your skin.

He's pulling pleasure from you like he was made for it, his knowledge of your body all he committed to memory and you’re crying out within minutes. His fingers grip the backs of your thighs, spreading them to make room for his body to line of with yours and then he’s pushing in slowly. Through a crack of your eyelid, you see his focus on where the two of you connect, brown eyes dark and hair slicked back save for one stray curl folded over his temple. Teeth gritted and breath hissing as he fills you, slowly, taking in the sight for what it is, feeling it for what it is, living up to his promise to get you out of your head as he bottoms out and your mouth goes slack.

“Theeeere we go, huh, darlin’?” One of his hands snake up to grip your chin gently, pulling your thrown back head toward him. Thick fingers caress the too hot skin there and his eyes soften as your own fly open when he leans forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, the obscene sound of him pushing in deeper and your walls clenching around him. “Look at those pretty eyes, starin’ up at me with nothing behind them, that’s exactly what we wanted, wasn’t it?”

All you can do it try to nod, his hand so large cradling the side of your face, his lips so tantalizingly close but your body is frozen, the breath caught in your throat as you pulse around him, pleasure rippling through your body as he throbs deep inside you. He must see the way they tremble and he closes his mouth around yours, giving you exactly what you wanted without you needing to ask. When he pulls back, his teeth glint in the faint light seeping in through the window.

“Don’t gotta think about nothin’ else but how full you feel. Deserve to turn your thoughts off and just focus on gettin’ fucked.”

He’s pulling back a bit, his knees caging you in as they squeeze around your hips.

You can barely take a breath before he’s slamming back in and it’s pushed from your lungs.

Over and over again.

The day starts off normally, a plan in motion to tell Joel once he returns from one of his shifts. Tess spends the day helping to move most of Jean’s stuff out of the shitty apartment she had been given alongside two other single girls. Not enough room for her to even have her own space. But Tess was willing to give up her bedroom and move into the living room to provide some semblance of privacy and control for the young girl. You had taken her to the clinic, as well. Dropped her off and were due to pick her up any moment now, but you’re kneeled down in front of the toilet.

Your own sickness seems to linger while Tess is back in good health. Her color coming back while yours remains pallor, hot flashes and cold spells waring underneath your skin and making you nauseous. You were doing your best to hide the worst of the symptoms from Joel, not wanting him to feel like he needed to use the stock of goods and cards for more medicine that only worked at first. You’re just grateful that awful cough that rattled your brain and hurt your throat was gone, the phlegm that seemed to either clog up your sinuses or run far too freely gone as well. It had been a bad chest cold, same as Tess and you didn’t understand why you were better, but you weren’t…better.

You had given blood at the clinic, just to be cautious.

Because you were beginning to get worried. Between the new responsibility of caring for and protecting Jean, the rather startling reach out from Bill concerning new habits from Frankie he’s developed and the increasing scarcity of things to find in the city, you were feeling a slow simmering panic begin to form in the back of your mind and weigh down your mental and physical resolve.

The cold chill settling in the air wasn’t helping, telling you that it was about to get a while lot worse as the temperature dropped and winter weather became a daily struggle on top of it all. Snow and ice in Boston was normal this time of year, to begin falling from the sky and form on the ground.

Picking Jean up from the clinic was supposed to be a simple task. But you honestly don’t remember much of it. The ringing in your ears had started once the doctor had turned to you and read the results of your own testing. Effectively pulling the entire god damn earth’s crust from beneath your feet. You don’t remember the trek back to the apartment, nor the way that Jean was glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. Bottom lip between teeth as she contemplated commenting on same diagnosis that was read to you.

Shock. You were in shock. Mind reeling from the fact that now there wasn’t just one pregnancy to navigate, but two.

All you know is the startling cold of porcelain seeping through the towel you had placed over the top of the lid as you knelt in the bathroom once again. Stomach heaving and throat burning, heart beating far too fast as you struggled to regain your breath. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, a sharp contrast in how hot they were compared to the tile that surrounded you.

Just as you managed to stand up from your rather humbling position in front of the toilet again, you hear it.

The boom of Joel’s voice through the thin walls.

He was home early.

And Tess must’ve just told him what you two have been handling the past few days.

Keeping as silent on your feet as possible, not wanting to sound the creaks of your aged flooring, you inch into the living room and move into the kitchen. His voice is clear as a bell and angry.

“It’s just another fucking human being that’s going to be subjected to a shitty life and even shittier people. How do you think that kid is gonna feel when they learn about how they were conceived? You think she’s gonna be able to sit her kid down and explain to them the shit she had to endure? That she was raped and it was either go through with the birth or risk her life ending the pregnancy? You think that’s any kind of thing to put on child in this god forsaken world?”

“Joel, she’s scared. She said you told her to come to you for help. And Cane and I are an extension of that-“ Tess’s voice is raised, an attempt to wrangle in Joel’s own but its fruitless. You’ve only heard him sound like this when he deals with less than savory trade partners. You’ve only heard him when it was that first year of knowing him. When he didn’t trust you or share your bed. Before the shadow of a life you two slowly and carefully curated together.

“Just cause y’all are women doesn’t mean you know better about this than me. Don’t you try to pull that sexist bullshit with me, Tess. You know just as well as I do that bringing a new life into this world is a mistake. The risks of pregnancy before were deadly, with the help of machines and medicine. But now?”

He scoffs loud enough for you to hear it through the walls. You don’t flinch, though you know you would’ve once upon a time. There’s truth in his words, no matter how he’s weaponizing it to prove his point. To deny getting involved in the situation.

“Now she’s as good as dead if she goes through with it. And what if she does manage to give birth to a healthy baby and she’s the one stuck paying the price? Bleeds out or needs to be cut open, then there’s just another orphan the system is gonna abuse and use for their twisted sense of righteousness.”

“Joel-“

“She’s gonna be stuck with a kid, do you realize how much time and effort and work is gonna go into that and it’s all gonna fall on us. On me. And I am too fucking old for this shit.” You can hear silence that greets his harsh words, the raw and unfiltered emotions he feels on the matter. You knew Tess had a kid before all this and it must be hard for her to grapple with the reality of the situation. Especially as it brings up memories and her own past emotions. “There is no way in hell this is going to work out.”

“She came to us for help, Joel. You instilled in her that you would look after her, no matter what. And guess what? This is something big! She can live here with me, I can…I can help her through the rough patches, I know what it’s like to have a less than smooth time of it.”

“Tess…”

“I’m going to help her, Joel. From one mother to a prospective one. As a parent, I would think you feel at least a little connected to the issue at hand.” That gave you as much pause as it seemed to Joel. The silence that permeated the air was heavy, crackling tension palpable even through the walls.

“This is dangerous, this is stupid and reckless. Children aren’t a blessing, they’re a curse.” His even but thudding steps could be heard as he makes his way to the door. You’re still in shock a few moments later when it doesn’t slam shut, it doesn’t even open. He must’ve turned around and you can almost picture him looking over his shoulder. All broad and brooding, angry. “This is a mistake.”

With no other outlet for what you’re feeling, you shove your hands into the sleeves of your jacket and grab your keys from the nails they hang on beside the door. Glancing on the sleeping form of Jean on the couch, you’re relieved that she’s in a deep enough sleep to not hear the harsh words of the man who she had sought out for help.

You don’t even dare glance at the end of the hallway, not knowing what you would do if you glimpsed Joel at this moment.

And that scared you.

That you didn’t know if you would curl up into his chest, wrap your arms around his neck or waist and burrow your face into him. Inhale his scent and be comforted by the way he holds you back. Or if you would scold him for his choice of words, for the way he’s backtracking suddenly as the situation turns now to something he doesn’t have the patience and energy to deal with.

That you didn’t know if the words would immediately fall from your lips or stay lodged in your throat and suffocate you.

He had given Jean his attention, his protection, his word that he would look out for her. And he’s standing there determining the course of her future that would best benefit him. That would work in his favor, to not have to deal with something so monumentally important. The news isn’t the best, it isn’t born of a decision between two consenting adults who are determined to nurture and love. Hell, you aren’t even sure if Jean had ever admitted to wanting to be a mother beyond not feeling right with doing away with her condition. But it was something, it was someone.

Hope. It was hope you were feeling as you sped down the hallway and away from the harsh words that hang in the air.

Hope for a future that isn’t the same damn thing day in and day out. Fighting and hustling for supplies, for food, for water, for space in a crowded zone. That isn’t protecting your territory and your smuggled items, that isn’t holding fast to your going rates as people challenge them and clamor for them because even if you did want to provide things that were hard to find or considered contraband, you still needed to benefit from the effort and skills that go into supplying them.

The news Jean brought to you, born of devastation and immoral means, could be the universe’s push of urging you toward something else. Your own news born of a moment of passion under the influence with someone who you found rare solace and genuine companionship with. The naïve notion of taking it in stride and shifting everything for the better, for the hope of making something of the situation you’ve landed yourself in is a painful one. Cultivating and nurturing goodness back into the world where you could, back into your life that had become so violent and overwhelming in its eat or be eaten nature.

You’ve been violent for so long, have had to be violent for so long. The world demanding it of you if you wanted to survive, to breath, to live to see another tortured day. And all those days that it seemed like too monumental a task, too hard a thing to commit to once again. A flicker of your old, weaker self rising up and arguing that there was no point, that it was useless to survive a hard day and the only reward was another string of them. But now you know why it was imperative that you stuck with it, defending yourself, protected yourself, used teeth and nails and haunting violence to make sure you saw the sun rise each morning and set each night over a world that was decimated beyond help.

And that reason was a phantom weight low in your belly. The new reason you would fight even harder from this point on until the moment you drew your last breath. Your child would know better than you were thrust into, would know better than this broken world and mockery of what was once city life.

You would bite and claw and fight, shoot or slash anything that threatened the life you were determined to give to your child, to give back to her. That younger version of yourself lost piece by piece as things quickly fell, as people gave into temptation and damnation the second civilization crumbled.

You don’t realize the heavy words in your mind are coming out as snarled sounds every time your boots hit the ground with your fast pace. The man Jean had described was walking home, you on his tail and none the wiser about what fate was about to deliver. What you were about to deliver.

Crazy bitch. Depraved dog. Ruthless.

His insults don’t mean anything, as you stalk him through the streets and down the hallway that leads to his apartment. His pained groans and stuttered breaths mean nothing to you as you land hit after hit, they don’t give insight to anything but satisfaction that curls your lips up at the corners.

His words, Joel’s words, ring in your ears as you feel the impact of your knuckles on the man’s face. Each punch, each hit landing as the echo inside your head gets louder and louder. Those are the only ones that mean anything, the only thing that fuels your violence. The man crumpled beneath your knees deserving of every last bit even more so and you’re convinced he would feel the exact same way. He would see his own actions as righteous, taking what was his, what was deserved- the consequences not on his mind nor something he would feel like needs his attention. An afterthought, the result of an assault he forced on someone.

All of it, everything in the entire world was just- mistake, mistake, mistake. After goddamn mistake.

But this? Delivering retribution on the man who is weaker than you ever were, it feels right. It feels like something you’re meant to do. Despite the depravity and brutality of the sentence you’ve given him, it’s a step in the right direction. It’s a step toward a better future.  

Please. Stop. I’ll do anything you want. Take anything you want. Please- no…no!

And then he’s no longer breathing the air he doesn’t deserve.

With bruised hands, swollen knuckles and aching fingers you gather everything in his apartment into his own duffle bags hidden beneath the bed.

You leave the apartment, ignoring the cracked doorways as people peek through them to see what the scuffle was about, who had been target this time- the only thing left inside besides dirty linens and dishes is his body with a note stabbed into his chest with his pocket knife.

Don’t mess with my people.

Signed off with a stamp of ink in the shape of a paw.

And though it’s far too early to feel the weight in your belly, something settles there and you feel it the entire walk back to the apartment building, even as you stand at the sink and wash the blood from your hands. The stain of it lingers even with the aid of soap and cold water.

His figure used to be refreshing, a comforting thing to see at the end of every tumultuous day. But now, your eyes track him, take him in as if he posed a threat. As if he had done anything other than simply walk into the room, his muscles rippling with the action of removing his jacket. His scruff a dark shadow in the low light that glitters when the gray there catches the light. He’s so broad, the entire doorway filled by the width of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest. The same body you found comfort in when it curled around you or pressed down upon you. But now, it’s as if a stranger has strutted into your home for all that had happened recently.

Large, calloused hands reach for his belt, remove with a simple pull through the fabric holding it in place and you feel nausea rise at the spike of desire that pools between your legs. Feelings and urges war with each other in your mind and heart, body reacting to his as he approaches. Your head tilting into the cradle of his palm even as your mind screams at you that he doesn’t care. This is the same man who had declared loudly and determinedly that he wanted no part in the situation at hand. The one that involved a child. He hadn’t known his words were not only for another woman but for you too.

“You okay, darlin’? You look a little waxy there. The meds workin’ alright or do I need to go and get some more from the infirmary?”

“Fine, Joel.”

“Hey,” His eyes search yours as he tips your chin up, locking onto them and trying to find out what you’re not voicing. But he can’t seem to, because his brow furrows and the corners of his lips pull down. “You sure?”

“Had to take someone out, is all. Muscles weren’t used to being used like that.” The admittance doesn’t lift any of the weight in your chest, but the words are out. No longer caged between your ribs with the other secrets you now carry.

“Tell me you didn’t.” He takes a step back, and he’s not upset…but he’s- something. How were you supposed to know it was fear, when you swallowed yours down so long ago?

“I’ll tell you I did, because it needed to be done. He didn’t deserve to breath anymore. He forced her, Joel. He manipulated her long before that and then when she was finally free from him, he goes and-“

“You shoulda let me handle it.”

“Why? Because I’m too weak?” The snarl in your words has him removing his hand from you, giving you space. He lets out a heavy breath as he realizes the way you had taken his worry, his fear.

The room is crackling, the energy flowing from you having built up for days, weeks now. It hadn’t bothered you at first, it hadn’t bothered you at all. Until someone had made a comment that you had been made to heel, fucked into your rightful place. Just as you had been leaving the clinic earlier that day. You had been preoccupied, yes that’s true, but that didn’t mean you had taken a step to the side and allowed for authority to shift. You had simply begun to focus more on finding things that would not only benefit the anticipated needs of the zone’s occupants, but of Bill and Frank as well. Then you had gotten sick, all of that paired with the reality you were facing alongside Jean and no one could blame you for the whirlwind that had replaced your heart.

“You’re just tired, is all. Not weak, I could’ve been there for backup.” He tries to keep calm, but you can see the way the muscle in his jaw twitches. He looks from the collection of items on the dining table, to where you had made up a nest of sorts on the couch as you had tried to get some time out of the bed you really should be swathed in to recover. “Let’s get you another dose of meds and maybe a shower.”

And you know he isn’t trying to belittle your emotions or step around them. He’s seeing them for what they are, as least as best he can. He knows you’re overwhelmed, that small things grow into big things over time, and this is one of those moments where you realize that they have and it’s completely out of your control.

“‘M fine.” You can’t help the snap of your teeth as you clench your teeth, head pounding and stomach turning. You hadn’t left for days but you had heard the rumors going around as you and Tess all but disappeared from the scene when you both fell sick. Determined to get out and reclaim some semblance of control, you reach for your coat. The clack of plastic makes you freeze, worried that the object got shoved from the depths of the inside pocket it’s hidden in.

Joel takes the moment to come up behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle. Grounding himself and attempting to ground you too, knowing there was no stopping you if you wanted to get some space. You know he wouldn’t take that from you, try to control that part of you. He needed space sometimes too, even on the good days. But this wasn’t one of them, this was a bad day. A monumentally bad one. And it’s made even heartbreakingly worse by the confession he breathes into the back of your neck, his forehead pressed to back of your head as he inhales your scent. Don’t go. Love you. Need you safe while you’re sick.

You freeze, processing.

Love you. Love you. Love you.

It echoes in your mind, his voice caressing and soothing despite everything. It calms you enough to take a deep breath, to try and center yourself for the barest of moments.

And it sounds so good, his voice quietly voicing the warmth and affection that had developed, that had been carefully cultivated between you two over the years. But as good as they sound, they don’t bring you the comfort you know he hopes that they will. Because he’s already undermined the sentiment, he’s already crumbled the very foundation of what you two stand on. It breaks your heart a little to not return the words, even as you feel them harden and catch in the middle of your throat.

“You gotta know that, by now.” He fills the silence as your body tenses in his hold.

But the timing of it, the words he had spoken so devoutly just the previous day are like shrapnel stuck in your skin, burning and stinging. No amount of picking at them will take away the damage they’ve done, clear the burns and the irritation, the pain.

“Didn’t know you were the type of man who cast aside a pregnant woman who came to you for help. A woman who you’ve done nothing but try and watch out for until this point.” Your voice is a whisper, anger bubbling up, heartbreak spilling your chest open, body almost numb from the way everything was so poetically fucked.

“You’re right, I’ve done nothing but try and watch out for her. And guess what? She still got hurt, she still got assaulted, she’s still in this goddamn situation that has no good outcomes!” He’s pulling away, you turn to face him. The darkness that had fallen as night settled is not longer comforting against the onslaught of photophobia you had been experiencing all day. Now it feels suppressive, it feels like you’re in a cage that you can’t escape from. The words Joel had said and is now saying are like locks, connecting together in a twisted way to make you feel the weight of how they can’t possibly be coming from the same person.

“Is it really that bad of a situation?”

“Is it- for fuck’s sake, Cane.” He scrubs a wide palm over his face, the scruff of his neck bristling at the action and causing goosebumps to sprout all along your arms. “I think I get a decent read on you and then you go and ask somethin’ like that. Do you not see how this will affect us? Affect everything we try to do to survive?”

His voice has shifted from anger to something that rings warning bells in your head, it’s not desperation and its not beseeching. But there’s something in the deep timbre that alights your nerves and makes you feel as if everything between you will be determined in the next choice of words. Despite how you feel, despite the way things have been going, the groove you’ve found with him and Tess. Despite the smuggling getting harder but still holding a majority of the supplies and power, and how Joel returns to you every night. Despite it all, the phantom weight you feel low in your middle compels the words that leave your lips next.

“I’m not even sure if I know what love truly is but if it’s not what I feel for you then I have no clue. It’s never simple and perhaps it just speaks to how I’m meant to be alone.”

“What’s more simple than telling me how you feel?” His eyes are narrowed, though you see the way his irises are blown out. You wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s panicking, but he’s not…he’s hadn’t expected anything other than reciprocation. And it breaks your heart, the chasm in your chest deepening as you realize you can’t gift them to him as easily as you would’ve been able to just twenty-four hours prior.

“Because I heard you, Joel!” Your words leave you in a shout, an angry frustrated cry that bursts from your chest. Unable to quell the spike of emotions, this wasn’t just about Jean anymore. “I heard you talking about how that girl you’ve taken under your wing suddenly means nothing to you the second you can’t handle the situation. The things you said, the fucking vitriol in your voice when you talked about an innocent, a baby.”

“That’s what changed your mind? Affected everything I’ve done in the past four years, we’ve done in the past four years.”

“Yes! Because you- it- because it was so hateful. Like, I get it, Joel, really. You’re a big scary man, you’ve got the brooding scowl down and the razor sharp glare, but she needs our help with this. I don’t like it anymore than you do, but I’m not about to tell her what to do with her own body. You cannot be so daft to not think that that’s not going to alter the way I think about you at least a little.”

He doesn’t seem to know how to respond, his full lips pull down into a deep frown and his brow furrows, but he doesn’t say anything else. His eyes hard, sharp on you as he watches the way you shrug your jacket on and stand in front of the door. With a hand on the knob, you look back over your shoulder with a set expression, not willing for him to see any glimpse of what’s going on in your head.

“I’m going to take Jean to Lincoln. It’ll be safer for her there, better place to raise her mistake.”

The instinct to run, to protect, to build for not one but two mistakes settles deep in your bones as you realize the notion was a solitary one. Joel’s own instincts clashing with yours. Preservation and protection flare up and make you defensive, make you willing to walk away from the life you created with someone you love, to deny them the last true thing that makes life worth living- of loving and being loved in return, they allow you push through the heartache of leaving it all behind.

“I’ll be staying there to help her through everything.”

You don’t hear the whispered plea to not leave that falls from his lips, eclipsed by the sound of the slamming door. Or you do, and it push it from your memory for all the pain it brings to recall it.  

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[peachhcs]

after mack saw her again he took a few days to decide how he could see her again and maybe she had a competitor and he showed up alone and waited till it was over to find her alone and she’s shocked

au masterlist

also side note: mack and blaire go to college like a yearish early so they’re 18 at the start of this au and that’s why blaire’s in/finishing her 3rd semester

so maybe mack was a stalker, whatever, it didn’t matter nor count if all of it was public knowledge. he drove to the university, which, was conveniently 10 minutes from his house, a nervous edge in his system. maybe he shouldn’t do this.

he hasn’t seen blaire in maybe..two years? they stopped talking when he made his decision to go to boston which led to them losing all contact. she probably didn’t even want to see him and that’s why she hasn’t reached out since he got to san jose officially.

but macklin really wanted to see her. even if she turned him away and told him to never talk to her again, he had to at least try. they were in the same fucking city by coincidence. there was something someone or something was trying to tell them and macklin wanted to test his luck.

he was glad she was still super involved in figure skating and even more surprised when he read that she got a full ride from santa clara to figure skate. although, it also didn’t surprise him because he knew she was good.

the brunette took a few deep breaths as he walked up to the rink. his plan was to stay close to the back so she wouldn’t see him and by the end, he would try to catch her alone to talk.

okay, so maybe it sounded weird, but he didn’t know how else to do it. he didn’t want to sike her out before she went on and waiting until after sounded better than getting into her before she competed.

luckily, the place was somewhat packed, so macklin easily slipped through to the top of the bleachers and hid behind some tall dads. the skaters were warming up on the ice and he immediately spotted blaire. she was already in her costume stretching out her legs.

it didn’t even look like she changed much. she still looked like the same blaire mack knew and (still) loved that he met four years ago and that brought a smile to his lips.

there weren’t that may competitors, so the meet didn’t last long. when blaire went on macklin physically couldn’t look away. just like when they were 14, he was captivated by the way she lept and twirled across the ice so effortlessly. he didn’t even know how she did it or did those big spins without worrying about messing up. anytime he tried those turns he could only do 1 maybe 2 at the most.

the rink started clearing out after around 2 hours and macklin was really starting to feel the nerves. he hung around in the bleacher area still, waiting for blaire to come back out. he thought several times about just turning around and leaving, but something in him kept him from moving.

finally, the the dirty blonde shuffled out of the locker room with her bag slung over her shoulder. she was looking at her phone, so she didn’t see the brunette watching her a few feet away until he little jumped in front of her.

“blaire?” macklin muttered carefully. her gaze shot to his, searching his features before slowly realizing he was actually standing in front of her.

“m-mack..hey..” her own shock settled into her features.

“hi. sorry..i’m sure you’re probably wondering why i’m here and how i even found out you’re here..and i promise i wasn’t being weird..i just happened to see you at the game against san jose university the other day and i was like oh my god, is that blaire? and it was you and i just..i wanted to see you..and..” the poor boy began rambling out of nervousness. very typical of him, but blaire actually found it quite cute and glad that he hadn’t lost his touch of always talking way more than he had to.

“first of all, it’s not weird. it is public knowledge where i go to school. second of all, i’m..flattered you wanted to come see me,” she rocked on her heels, nervous but not weirded out or anything like mack thought she would be.

a tiny grin spread across his lips hearing her say that, “oh! okay..good. i was worried you would think i was some creep..” he slowed down for a second to let his mouth catch up with his brain, “it’s good to see you. you probably know this, but i play for the san jose sharks now.”

“i..did hear you they drafted you 1st overall this summer. congrats, by the way. that’s super awesome. i figured you’d go pretty fast. i..i meant to.. well..i didn’t know if it would be weird if i reached out to you since we.. it’s good to see you too,” now blaire was stumbling over her words. it seemed like both teenagers worried that neither of them wanted to reconnect, but it was obvious they were worried about nothing and did want to reach out.

“no, no i get it. i didn’t know if showing up here would be weird. how’ve you been though?” macklin tried making conversation as he scratched the back of his head.

“i’ve been good. i had a really good first year of college and the second year has been pretty good so far. how’s the sharks?”

“good! everything’s been good. it’s a dream come true basically,” the boy chuckled.

blaire happened to catch a glimpse of mack’s bracelet when he raised his arm to scratch his head. she quickly recognized it as the matching ones they used to have together and something tugged in her heart at the idea of him never taking it off. when she looked back up at his face it was like she was transported back in time to when they were 14—so young and naive.

“that’s really great, i’m really happy to hear that. i..i do have to get going, but we should catch up more. i can..i can give you my number again? so you can text me when you’re free,” blaire offered because she didn’t want this to be the last time she saw him.

mack felt the exact same way, “oh, yeah! totally. just put yourself into my phone,” he handed her his phone where she typed in her number.

“text me! i’m free most nights pretty much. i’d really love to talk to you more,” the girl grinned.

“i will, for sure. it was good seeing you,” they waved as blaire hurried out of the rink.

a new, happy feeling settled itself into mack’s chest and all the anxieties he had leading up to his were quickly gone.

[dostoyevsky-official]

The Second Trump Presidency, Brought to You by YouTubers

In an effort to understand the media diet of a generation, Bloomberg watched and analyzed over 2,000 videos from nine prominent YouTubers.

To hear them tell it, America is in a desperate place, destabilized by soaring inflation, migrants streaming across the border and the beginnings of a third world war. Gender politics have gotten out of hand while schools and the medical establishment duped the public. The same messages were communicated in Trump’s inaugural address on Monday. Now that Trump is back in power, the broadcasters are well-positioned to help build support for his political agenda, transforming grievances into policy that could have lasting effects even beyond Trump’s term in office.

In the months leading up to election, hosts had more politicians and pundits on their shows and discussed the issues more frequently. Of the broadcasters’ videos that reached over 1 million views on YouTube during the time span Bloomberg reviewed, more than a third of videos mentioned voting or the US elections — often with the host explicitly calling on listeners to vote.

None of the broadcasters style themselves as political pundits, and their conservative talking points were sandwiched between free-wheeling discussions of sports, masculinity, internet culture, gambling and pranks — making the rhetoric more palatable to an apolitical audience. Still, their popularity is sparking a “very big sea change in terms of who are the voices that matter,” Mark Zuckerberg, Meta Platforms Inc. chief executive officer, said in a conversation with Rogan published Jan. 10. “There’s this wholesale generational shift in who are the people who are being listened to.”

According to Edison Research, close to 50% of people over the age of 12 listen to a podcast monthly. Rogan’s three-hour interview with Trump in late October drew about 50 million views on YouTube.

[...] Exit polls have shown that Trump received more support from young men than any Republican candidate in more than two decades.

[...] Above all, the broadcasters described American men as victims of a Democratic campaign to strip them of their power — a comforting message to a disspirited audience. These days, young men are lonelier than ever, with those aged 18 to 23 the least optimistic about their futures, and having the lowest levels of social support, according to Equimundo’s 2023 State of American Men report. Trump and his allies showed up for young men in the places where they were already spending their time — and supplied them with answers.

Trump is expected to continue prioritizing the broadcasters once the administration gets underway, treating them like an “alternative press corps,” said Aaron Ginn, CEO of AI infrastructure startup Hydra Host, and co-founder of the Foundation for American Innovation, a center-right think tank for conservatives in Silicon Valley.

[...] Thirty percent of videos discussing transgender identity also mention children. Hosts criticized public schools for letting children explore their gender identity, and staunchly opposed gender-affirming care for minors. [...] In one April 2024 discussion on Fridman’s show, the former US Representative Tulsi Gabbard argued that advocating for the rights of transgender individuals infringed on the rights of women.

Matt Fitzgerald, a 35-year-old stonemason from a suburb of Boston, started listening to Rogan during the Covid-19 pandemic. He said he now listens to more than a dozen podcasts, including by Von and Bet-David, most of which he discovered through Rogan and his guests.

Once a registered Democrat who voted for President Barack Obama, Fitzgerald supported Trump in 2016 and has stuck with him ever since. Fitzgerald said he is better informed because of the podcasts he listens to.

[glasskey]

Nick & June's Mix tape Vol. 3

With volume 3 comes the battle for Holly, separation and the unveiling of painful secrets. Season 3 was notoriously poor to our 2 lovers with June becoming seriously twitchy without Nick, Hannah or Holly. Gilead is Hell.

What Are You Good For?

Love in Gilead is less than ideal. One day you’re dreaming about a beautiful beach with your beloved and the next he’s been promoted to Top Boy at the local horror show. Granted he looks great in the suit but Nick doesn’t seem to like the new tie, grabbing at it like the tightening noose that it actually is. Fred was obviously pissed about the baby snatching and his “reward” for Nick was to arrange a promotion complete with a quick trip to the front, undoubtedly to die.

I’ve often said that Nick sometimes DOES listen to his better angels and sometimes he takes the easy way out. Granted it’s difficult he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, but when June asks him to take the high road, hightailing it with her and Hannah for the border, and he doesn’t, it earns him a brutal verbal slap.

“What are you good for?” she demands and I was instantly reminded of S1 when June confronted him with his lowly aspirations: “Is this it? You’re just gonna polish his car and once in a while get a Handmaid pregnant?” In both of these moments Blaine looks deeply shamed, June has shown him that while she loves him she’s also acutely aware of his shortcomings.

It’s a justified blow to his ego, particularly given his newly acquired power and his reluctance to use it for good. As she demonstrates her willingness to risk so much more for freedom, he’s left feeling like a small and suitably chided man, instead of the patriarchal Gilead’s new Big Commander. “You’ll get killed” June says with a cold finality as he tells her that he’s been sent to the front, confronting him with the reality that his unquestioning loyalty to Gilead will now surely cost him his life. It’s madness.

This is one of the only scenes where Nick and June are not depicted in a glowing light, it’s difficult to ignore that Nick is now almost swallowed by the shadows. Over the last 2 seasons, they’ve become one another’s beacon of joy and hope and there’s a palpable air of desolation and sorrow here, as these two bid each other goodbye, possibly forever. The camera reveals Nick and June divided by a wall, Nick unwilling to leave her, his back literally pinned to the wall by the heavy weight of Gilead.

June opens the door, gently reaches around, sensing him waiting, somehow their hands finding one another and she leads him out of the dark hallway and back into her room. Doors often represent entrances to other worlds and here we see June reach across the divide to return him to her side, once again. The lock snaps shut signalling an almost unheard of privacy. There’s a sense of finality in it too, as though it may be the last time these two see sanctuary for a long time, if ever again. It’s no more than 10 seconds of screen time and yet it encapsulates their relationship so perfectly. Nick constantly waiting in the shadows, bound by duty, and June always reaching across the divide to bring him in from the cold.

Nice Girl Like You in A Place Like This

The DC episode ranks right up there with the Boston Globe episode as one of the most important and insightful for this entire series. In Ep 6 June witnesses for the first time the absolute devastation this dictatorship has unleashed on her countries seat of power. Fittingly Fred has selected new wave DC as the location to construct his own personal piece of propaganda in an attempt to force the Canadians to hand Nicole back. June’s depicted glowering with vast angel wings, a monolith of power and holy vengeance. In the middle of Fred’s little directorial debut, Nick strolls in and June does the trademark jaw drop. Fred wants to know what he’s doing there, after all he had arranged for him to be shipped off to the front after the whole holding him at gun point / baby napping thing. Despite Fred’s best efforts though, it seems that not only does Blaine continue to breath, but he’s also shown up to visit his girlfriend.

Now if you thought Blaine looked good in a suit, wait till you see him draped in long, dark, tailor made, hotness. It’s obvious there’s a new kind of swagger to him and as he steps up next to June he brushes her hand and drops the line “Nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” It’s a line lifted from a Scorsese film of the same name and Blaine’s used it to flirtatiously lighten the intensely grim mood. He knows DC is Hell but he also knows June is anything but a “Nice Girl”, she blushes barely containing a smile and he smirks.

Fred and Serena can’t help but notice it and Fred’s seething with jealousy. There’s a close shot of Serena’s false finger clenching, a sign of the love lost between her and Fred, that contrasts directly against Nick and June’s hand brushing. Exchanges between Fred and Nick reek of power and control. Fred directs Nick to do his bidding, maneuvering him across the stage and verbally leashing him by calling him son, once again reducing him to a subordinate. Fred makes June kneel down for the camera, and Blaine looks away unable to watch. Unbeknownst to Fred, this will be the last time he ever exercises this type of control over Blaine.

This is Your One Chance

Here we got our epic movie moment for the series, It was like Gone with the Wind and Dr Zhivago all rolled up into one big romantic snow globe. June runs out to meet Nick her hair and cape fluttering behind her freely, a stark contrast to the DC handmaids brutally silenced. It demonstrates the freedom she feels he brings her. Nick, however seems to want nothing to do with June’s gamble on the Swiss that involves him laying his neck on the line and entwining himself in yet another Governments manoeuvrings for power. I, for one could hardly blame him; the last time he got involved with politics he ended up in the bottomless pit that is Gilead and he’s been unsuccessfully digging his way out ever since.

Add to this the fact that the last time he tried to help June, a multitude of people risked their lives and most certainly died, and you have one understandably reluctant Commander. But he’s helpless, she forces him to look in her eyes, tears streaming down her face and tells him that it’ll be his one opportunity to truly show his love and fealty for his daughter.

Now while some may doubt that Blaine ever showed up to speak with the Swiss, I can guarantee that this little exchange ensured that he did. The fact is, Blaine is a sucker for the loyalty card and once June played it, it was a done deal. Scenes are cut and included for a reason and as we know, in The Handmaid’s Tale, even the smallest scene is there for a reason. Show runners went to the effort of showing Blaine at the embassy being called to give information; he showed up, albeit reluctantly, and despite the fact that it all went sideways, writers still wanted you to know that. Unfortunately the reality is, he just couldn’t face her after it did all go to shit, and as a result he beat a hasty and somewhat cowardly exit to the front.

He knew the Swiss would soon tell her he’d been part of the Sons of Jacob who’d been integral to the inception of Gilead, something he’d kept hidden from her for some time now, and she’d be suitably mortified. June IS devastated, she looks out on the glowing playroom once filled with happy children that lies noticeably empty and silent. It reflects her isolation and sense of abandonment; perhaps the family she envisioned with Blaine was just a fantasy.

DC was an episode designed to illustrate the total destruction of all of our personal and societal freedoms under Gilead. To properly demonstrate this writers pulled the rip cord on any emotional support June may have previously had, this included breaking her and Serena up and having Nick leave her somewhat high and dry. It was essential to illustrate Nick was manipulated and part of the Gilead machine from the beginning. It was difficult to watch, given his devotion, but from the moment I saw him cloaked from head to foot in black, practically swallowed by his uniform, I knew it was inevitable that at least for now, Gilead pulled the strings.

In our next 2 Nick and June Mix tapes I’ll be covering Season 4, which was somewhat kinder to the Osblaine fans. Back soon.

[bl-bracket]

Deserved Better Round 1: Boston (Only Friends) vs Haoren (Happy of the End)

[Submitted Reasons Under Cut]

Boston: "He had his flaws but he also had his reasons! He deserved some of his ending, because of his actions, yes. But it was way too much just for not having the same view on relationships as everyone else."

"I mean one could argue that Boston got the best ending out of them all because he's living his best life slutting it up in the US away from his shitty friends while they still have to deal with each other, but like... why did they have to revenge porn my guy TWICE"

"Sure Boston was a bit of a dick (sleeping with a friend’s boyfriend) but he didn’t deserve the treatment he got in the show. He got non-consensually recorded for porn and then was blackmailed by a friend with it. Pretty much all of the Only Friends characters did shitty things but only Boston is unfriended by the group because he was being a bit of a slut. And arguably what Boston did was actually less worse than a lot of the other characters on the show. The retribution he received was incredibly disproportionate."

"Look... was he an asshole? Sure. But the only person he actually deserved ill treatment from was Mew. He did not owe Nick, Top, Cheum or Atom ANYTHING. His privacy was violated multiple times, even though he was always clear about how he wanted things and how important consent was to him. He did not ask Nick to fall for him either, and it was Top who was in an actual relationship and went behind Mew's back to cheat on him. Yeah, i do think that he shouldn't have gone for a guy his friend was interested in because bro code, BUT HE GOT WAY WORSE THAN HE DESERVED."

Haoren: "Sexually abused as a child. Abandoned by his mother. Lived on the streets with nothing to call his own. Gets sex trafficked. Is repeatedly sexually, physically, mentally abused, starved and even gets many severe injuries that require surgery because of the sex trafficking. Escapes from the trafficker but cannot escape that life. His only friend is the guy who trafficked him in the first place. Finds his "mother" again but she doesnt remember him. Still gives her money. She kills herself with no warning. Has to be on the run all the time. Is almost killed at least 10 times, by others or himself. Has to go to jail even though he is a victim. Has to leave the love of his life and lives with zero hope of having him waiting for him outside of jail. He went through enough torture in one life than most characters go through in ten. (If he doesn't win this bracket i will kill) (/hj)"

[earthtoharlow]

Flashing Lights

10) I Miss You, Don’t Call Me

Jack Harlow x Singer!OC

TW: slight mention of violence, and mentions of alcohol abuse

Series Masterlist

Jack sighed as Maryse declined his call again. It’s been a month since that incident with Nate happened. The next morning Maryse didn’t want to talk about it, stating she was fine. Jack knew she was lying, but didn’t want to push her.

Things seemed to be okay for a few weeks but recently Maryse has been avoiding him. She would decline his calls and if the off chance she did answer she would rush him off the phone saying she had to get back to rehearsals for her shows she had coming up at the Apollo Theater.

Jack was afraid that if she continued on this path of keeping things herself that she was going to blow up one day. He hated seeing her like this. It doesn’t help that he’s in LA right now while she’s home in NY.

“Jack, why are you rushing back to New York, we literally need you in Boston for New Balance by tomorrow afternoon!” Neelam said as she interrupted his thoughts. Jack needed to see Maryse now, he couldn’t let this go on any longer.

“I’m going to see Maryse, I’ll go straight to Boston as soon as I’m done. I promise.” He responded as he continued to pack his backpack, deciding to only take essentials.

He ignored Neelam's sigh at the mention of his girlfriend. “Jack…” she started but he immediately interrupted her. “Don’t wanna hear it.”

“Jack, just hear me out! I love Maryse but your career is very important. This is a huge year for you, you can’t just drop everything for some girl, you’ve only been dating for 3 months! And don’t think I haven’t noticed her ignoring your calls…”

Jack pulled his hoodie over his head, and took a deep breath before replying. “It’s been five months.” Neelam rolled her eyes.

“I’m not dropping everything for some girl, she’s my girlfriend and a Grammy award winner, might I add.”

He continued as Neelam folded her arms in front of him. “She’s going through something right now and needs me. I’ve been running around nonstop, and haven’t missed an appearance. Boston is hardly an hour flight away from NY. I will be back in time for the NB event.”

Only thing Neelam could do was sigh, knowing she wasn’t going to change his mind. “Ok. Fine. You better be back in time.”

He gave a simple nod as he slung his backpack over his shoulders and headed towards the door. “Gotcha.”

As he walked out the door he turned around to say one last thing. “Oh, and Neelam?”

“Yeah?” She questioned.

“You’re going to respect my girlfriend, she’s here to stay. This weird energy you have towards her is going to stop.” He closed the door behind him, not giving Neelam time to react as she stood there with her mouth open.

***

“That sounded great guys, let's take a 30!” Maryse told her band with a smile. She was currently rehearsing for her shows the following weekend at the iconic Apollo Theater to celebrate her debut album.

Once everyone left the room she sat at the piano and she began playing around with some chords that had been in her head for a couple days.

She silently sighed as her fingers moved across the keys, the more she played the more she started thinking about Jack. He didn’t deserve how she was treating him and made a silent vow to call him when he left rehearsals.

“I haven't slept since Sunday…” she began singing the first thing that came to mind. She wished Jack was with her right now.

“Midnight for me is 3:00 a.m. for you. But my sleepless nights are better with you than nights could ever be alone.” Maryse hadn’t slept properly since the night of her release party, having dreams about Nate, she knew the only thing that would fix this would be opening up about with Jack.

“I was good at feeling nothing, now I'm hopeless. What a drag to love you like I do”

Fuck it. She thought as she pulled her phone out, dialing Jack’s number. He of course answered on the first ring, she spoke before he could even speak. “I love you so much, I’m sorry for ignoring your calls, we can talk about everything when I get home, okay?” She bit her lip as it was silent on the other line.

“I love you too.” Maryse gasped as she heard his voice from behind her. Turning around, Jack was leaning against the doorway, phone pressed against his ear.

She immediately jumped up from her place at the piano and skipped towards him. “What are you doing here?” Maryse questioned as she pulled him closer to her, pressing her face into his chest and smelling his cologne.

Jack just shook his head, and kissed the top of her head. “We can talk about it later. I just needed to see you.”

***

It was 10 pm when she got back home from rehearsals, she stripped as soon as she walked into the house. Walking into her room, Jack was spread across her bed, soft snoring leaving his mouth. She felt bad that he came all this way for her. Changing into one of his many shirts he’s left at her place, she climbed into bed next to him, pressing a kiss to his face.

Jack, being a light sleeper, woke up from the light kiss. “Hey” he said softly.

Maryse smiled at him, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for ignoring your calls.”

Jack pulled her in closer next to him in bed. Maryse wrapping her legs around his own. “I guess I should explain myself.”

He nodded. “But only if you’re ready, I never wanna pressure you. I’m just worried about you.”

Maryse nodded and was silent as she continued playing with his hair. “I had been dating Nate since he was a senior in college. So I’ve known him for a really long time. You could say he was my first real relationship. Everything was really good for a long time, until we weren’t. But everything changed when he tore his pec during a playoff game.”

Jack stayed quiet, letting Maryse get her thoughts out.

“He was really upset and angry with himself for getting hurt. So he started drinking to cope, I would come home from the studio and he would be passed out drunk in the living room.”

Maryse took a pause before continuing, she hasn’t spoken about this to anyone in almost two years. “I watched alcohol turn the man I loved into a monster. We would argue all the time, every problem we faced steamed from his drinking.”

She didn’t realize it in the moment that she had closed her eyes as she spoke, thinking about the things he would say out of anger. “You’ll never make it in the industry.” “No one will listen to your music.” “No one will ever love you like I do”

“He would say the curliest things to me during arguments but he never once put his hands on me. That night at the release party was the first.” Maryse could feel herself getting overwhelmed and tears started forming in her eyes.

Jack immediately pulled her into his chest, bringing her closer than she already was. “I’m sorry.” Maryse said, pulling back and wiping her eyes. She grimaced seeing the tear stain on his shirt.

He shook his head, “This isn’t my favorite shirt.” Maryse couldn’t help but giggle and pinched his side.

“Not about that you idiot! Sorry, for putting you, and Urban for that matter in that position. You both could’ve gotten extremely hurt that night! Especially with how angry Nate was. That’s why I was ignoring your calls because I was really embarrassed after that night.” Maryse ended with a frown.

It was Jack’s turn to frown. “I’m going to stop you right there. One, you didn’t deserve any of that shit he put you through. I’m sorry that you had to deal with that, loving an addict is a hard and taxing job. Two, you’re worth defending. I’ll throw my last punch defending you. You’re my person, my peace. I’ll do anything to protect you.”

Hearing Jack reassure her made Maryse relax for the first time in weeks. She also couldn’t help the flutters she felt in her stomach at Jack calling her his person.

“I love you, Jack.”

Jack leaned forward and kissed her head, nose and finally a sweet kiss on her lips.

“I love you more. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Maryse pressed her lips against his lips one more time, happy he was here in her arms.

Jack let out a yawn. “Now, wrap your legs around me so I can go back to sleep. I have a flight to catch in 3 hours.”

She did just that, getting a full nights rest for the first time in weeks.

***

AN: hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Let me know you’re thoughtssss!

Tag List:

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @bout-mine @mace23477 @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @comehomeimissyou@minkookie95@harlowcomehome @jackharloww@jaydaaasworld@xxkoolkatxx @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @w1ldthoughts @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @halfmoondaze @babybardi2@vinniehackersbaee

[were-wolverine]

selina adopts dick au - details

- bruce and selina are dating when she adopts dick, and continue to date on and off. they get married after bruce adopts jason but still live separately because selina values her independence

- dick and jason (and later tim) have sleepovers all the time when they’re younger

- each of the boys has their own specific cat at Selina’s that they got to name. dick has a calico named Penny, jason has a tabby named Ernest and tim has a tuxedo named Mittens

- babs dick jason and tim went to Gotham Academy together (in this au it’s a K-12)

- babs & dick are best friends that flirt as vigilantes cuz they think it’s funny. they were friends as civilians first before revealing their identities which just made them even closer

- since selina is good friends with Harley & Ivy, and dick doesn’t work with Batman, they are basically dick’s aunties. him and harley do gymnastics together and she teaches him self-defense, ivy helps him with his chemistry homework and they often garden together

(he makes them promise not to hurt Batboy because that’s his little brother!! and so they usually just tie him up and put him in the corner while they deal with Batman lol)

- dick as Stray will often lead Batboy on chases to distract him when Batman fights some of his more ruthless rogues, because he’d rather have jason chase him and some priceless museum artifact than get hurt by a villain. he always lets jason catch him and return the artifacts in the end bc jason doesn’t call the cops on him lol

note: babs becomes Batgirl at 14 about a year after dick becomes Stray. jason (13) becomes Batboy when dick is 16 and babs is 17

- so: babs (17) is Batgirl, dick (16) is Stray and jason (13) is Batboy. tim (10) is not a vigilante but basically lives with dick and selina atp. they all know each other’s identities and go to school together

- babs (18) is shot by the joker about a year into jason (14) being Batboy. she becomes Oracle after teaching herself how to hack

- after graduating she moves to boston and goes to harvard law, but still helps Batman as Oracle

- dick (17) is a senior, jason (14) is a freshman, and tim (11) is in like 6th grade. dick continues to be Stray and jason continues to be Batboy until they graduate

- jason is 15 when he decides not to look for his birth mom (Sheila Haywood) and spends a few months living with selina before returning to the manor (mostly for alfred)

- when babs returns from boston after two years (she graduates early bc she’s a genius like that) she becomes a more permanent presence as Oracle and this is when tim asks to be her apprentice

- dick (19) went to college for a year before dropping out and enrolling in a paramedics program, which he is about halfway through (they take two years in NJ)

- around this time is when dick gives Stray to tim and instead becomes Nightwing (he read about the Kryptonian legend in an interview with Superman by Lois Lane), a vigilante that mainly does detective work and helps injured people instead of fighting criminals

- jason (16) is a junior and plans to leave Batboy behind when he goes to college

- luckily, this is when steph (14) as Spoiler shows up and basically forces Batman to train her. jason thinks she is hilarious and they become good friends. tim (13) is Stray atp and they end up having (another) Batman/Catwoman dynamic as Stray and Spoiler

- tim and steph do date briefly but decide they are better off as friends. the Cats are way less uptight about their identities so steph knows Stray & Nightwing are tim & dick

- dick still lives in Selina’s apartment with her and tim. he briefly dorms at Gotham University for the year he’s there but ultimately moves back (he misses his mom and his little brother and the cats)

- Spoiler helps out Batman when he needs an extra hand but prefers to patrol with Nightwing and be his crime-fighting partner while he helps the victims. they work really well together

- Stray and Spoiler honestly don’t cross paths very often unless they are purposefully hanging out together or both following Nightwing around

- jason helps train steph before he goes off to college and when he does, babs give steph the Batgirl mantle. she works more with Batman after jason leaves but still patrols with NW when she can

- jason goes abroad for college and later talia invites him to the League to be trained and tutored (talia and bruce are exes but ended on good terms. talia and selina are good friends and gossip about bruce). she also appoints him as her son’s bodyguard (she doesn’t mention that Damian is bruce’s… not yet at least)

- jason is also still sent to the All Caste cuz i think he deserves magic swords. in nanda parbat he is trained in martial arts and gets tutors for anything he wants to learn. talia basically adopts him as her own (selina is 100% aware of this and is happy for them, she and jason were never as close as her and dick or tim)

note: i changed this from jason’s original ending bc i wanted to include talia and damian

- tim is sent to boarding school by his dad and for a few months steph steps in as Stray. selina is eventually able to get custody of tim and bring him back to gotham, and he gets Stray back as steph chooses to become Spoiler again

- during the time tim is at boarding school, bruce finds and adopts cass. steph gives her Batgirl so she can sub in as Stray. cass happily takes on the role and loves working alongside bruce

(random side note: selina and talia have def hooked up before and talia calls both selina and bruce ‘beloved’)

timeline/ages

babs (20) is Oracle, dick (19) is Nightwing, jason (16) is Batboy, tim (13) is Stray, and steph (14) is Spoiler

after that we skip a year or two. babs (22) is still Oracle, dick (21) is still Nightwing, jason (18) is off in college, tim (15) is still Stray and steph (16) is Batgirl

the next year jason (19) is with the League, tim (16) is at boarding school, steph (17) is temporarily Stray and cass (18) is Batgirl

[wiiildflowerrr]

5 Seconds Of Summer’s Debut Album Is A Bestseller Again, A Decade Later

Forbes Business: Hollywood & Entertainment (7 February, 2025)

5 Seconds of Summer attend KISS 108's iHeartRadio Jingle Ball 2019 on December 15, 2019 in Boston, Massachusetts.

5 Seconds of Summer has been entertaining audiences for a decade now, a fact that may be difficult to swallow for many millennial fans. The pop-punk band released its debut album, a self-titled affair, in the summer of 2014, and since then, the group has been racking up hits and bestselling projects.

The band celebrated the tenth anniversary of 5 Seconds of Summer by releasing several different vinyl reissues of the record, including one that was bright red and another as a picture disc. Fans snapped them up, and all that love, which has continued for quite some time, helps the title return to the Billboard charts.

The self-titled project appears on two of Billboard’s albums-focused rankings this time around. It returns to one and debuts on another list that it's never managed to reach before.

5 Seconds of Summer opens inside the top 10 on the Vinyl Albums chart. The set is new at No. 5 on Billboard’s list of the top-selling releases on wax in America.

The band has sent five different releases to the Vinyl Albums chart, with all but one of them entering the highest tier for at least one turn. 5 Seconds of Summer is the lowest-ranking of the group’s four top 10, landing behind Sounds Good, Feels Good, which peaked at No. 3, and both Calm and 5SOS5, which missed out on running the show by just one space.

The same full-length also rebounds onto the Top Album Sales ranking, which isn’t focused on one style or one format, but instead, which paints a picture of the bestselling musical releases throughout the nation. On that roster, 5 Seconds of Summer returns at No. 13, almost managing one more turn inside the highest tier.

The self-titled debut project is one of 5 Seconds of Summer’s five No. 1s on the Top Album Sales chart. The group has collected an additional pair of top 10s, as well as one other release that didn't quite manage to appear inside the loftiest space, as the live recording, The Feeling of Falling Upwards, stalled at No. 35 in 2023.

Data from Luminate states that in the past tracking week, 5 Seconds of Summer sold just under 5,750 copies throughout the U.S. Those are pure purchases, not equivalent units, and the title likely performed significantly better when streams are taken into account as well. That figure is up more than 213% from the period before, when it managed a little over 1,800 purchases.'

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 19

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x dealer!Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, selling drugs, slight angst, cursing, fluffffffff

Chris’ POV

It was nearly 3 pm, and I’d only been awake for about an hour. Sleep didn’t come easy, not with everything circling in my head, Vince’s message, Y/n’s ultimatum, the danger Nate was in, and the weight of everything else. Vince’s response had come through a little after 12pm, while both Y/n and I were asleep.

"Not around tonight, kid. Tomorrow at the docks. 6 pm."

I’d stared at that message for longer than I cared to admit. Part of me had hoped Vince would meet me tonight, get this over with so I could show Y/n I was serious. But of course, nothing in this life ever worked that smoothly.

Still, I’d tell her the moment she woke up. I’d show her the message to prove I wasn’t stalling or dragging my feet. I wanted her to see I was committed to this, to us.

I glanced over at her, still curled up against me, her breathing soft and steady. She looked peaceful, almost serene, and it made me wish I could freeze this moment. But I knew as soon as she woke up, we’d have to dive right back into the chaos.

While she slept, I lay there thinking. Vince’s delay meant I had time, time to make things right in a different way. An idea had sparked in my mind as I scrolled aimlessly on my phone earlier. What if Y/n and I left Boston for the night? Got out of the city, out of the tension, and found some peace somewhere else, even if it was just temporary?

I opened the Airbnb app and started searching. Cape Cod seemed like the perfect spot, far enough to feel like an escape but close enough to get back if something came up. After a few minutes of scrolling, I found it, a beautiful villa near Long Pond. Modern but cozy, surrounded by trees, with a porch overlooking the water. It was available for the night, and I didn’t think twice before booking it.

Next, I looked into car rentals. My car was still out of action, but I found a place downtown that had a sleek SUV I could pick up by late afternoon. Everything was falling into place, now, I just needed Y/n to agree to it.

The thought of seeing her relax, even for a little while, made me feel lighter. We both needed this, time to reconnect without the weight of everything weighing us down.

Within the next 10 minutes, she started to stir. I felt her shift against me, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she slowly woke up.

“Morning..again” I said gently, even though it was already afternoon.

She blinked up at me, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Just after three” I replied. “I let you sleep. You needed it.”

She sat up slightly, brushing her hair out of her face. “Three?” she said, her voice filled with mild disbelief. “I never nap that long.”

“You needed it” I repeated, offering her a small smile. “Feeling any better?”

“A little” she admitted, though I could still see the weight of last night lingering in her eyes.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand. “Vince got back to me earlier on” I said, opening the message thread and handing her the screen.

She took the phone and read his response. “Tomorrow” she said quietly.

“Six at the docks” I confirmed. “I wanted you to see it. I didn’t want you thinking I was bullshitting you.”

She nodded, handing the phone back to me. “Thank you” she said softly.

I hesitated, searching her face. “There’s something else I wanted to ask you” I said.

Her brow furrowed slightly. “What is it?”

“I was thinking.. maybe we could get out of Boston for the night. Just you and me” I said, gauging her reaction. “I found this place in Cape Cod. It’s near Long Pond – A villa. I already booked it but I can cancel if you want.. and I rented a car for us. We could leave in a couple of hours and be back tomorrow afternoon before the meeting.”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Cape Cod?” she echoed.

“Yeah” I said, nodding. “I thought it might be good for us to get away for a bit. No distractions, no tension, just us.”

She didn’t respond right away, and I could see her mind turning over the idea.

“I know it’s a lot” I added, “but I just.. I want to give you something good. After everything, you deserve it.”

She looked at me, her expression softening. “You really think we can just.. leave?”

“For the night yeah” I said. “Everything else will still be here when we get back. But maybe, for a few hours, we can forget about it all. What do you think?”

She hesitated for a moment longer before finally nodding. “Okay” she said quietly.

A smile spread across my face, relief washing over me. “Okay” I repeated, already grabbing my phone to confirm the car rental.

“Thank you, Chris” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I glanced at her, catching the faint smile on her lips. “Thank me after we get there” I said, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a sliver of hope. Maybe we couldn’t fix everything in one night, but we could start.

Y/n’s POV

Chris’s idea to escape for the night had caught me completely off guard, but the more I thought about it, the more it felt like exactly what I needed. A break from the suffocating weight of everything going on, a moment to breathe and just be with him.

As he finished explaining the plan, I nodded. “Okay” I said softly. “Let’s do it.”

Chris’s face lit up, and he immediately grabbed his phone. “I’ll get an Uber to the rental place now” he said. “Pack a bag for the night, I’ll get mine and I’ll come straight back for you.”

“Okay” I replied, already making a mental list of what to bring.

He leaned in to kiss me gently on the forehead. “I’ll be back soon” he said before heading to my balcony door out of habit. “You can go out the front door now you know” I laughed.

“I like this way” Chris turns and smirks at me, closing the balcony door behind him. I watch him through the glass balcony door, climbing across into the treehouse. The fairy lights still in there flick on and off three times. Chris popped his head out and gave me a small smile before climbing down to ground level.

Once he was gone, I stood there for a moment, processing everything. The idea of leaving felt a little surreal, but I shook off the hesitation and moved to my closet. I grabbed a small overnight bag and started packing the essentials: pyjamas, a change of clothes, toiletries, and my phone charger. I hesitated for a moment before adding a sweater, Cape Cod could get chilly at night.

As I zipped up the bag, I realized I should probably let my parents know I’d be away for the night. She’d left a note earlier saying she’d be out for the day, but I didn’t want her worrying if she came home and I wasn’t there.

I grabbed my phone and dialed her number. It rang a few times before she answered.

“Hi, sweetheart” she said, her voice cheerful.

“Hi, Mom” I replied. “I just wanted to let you know I’ll be away for the night. Chris and I are going to Cape Cod. Just for a little getaway.”

There was a brief pause before she spoke again. “Oh, that’s lovely, honey! You two deserve some time to yourselves. But it looks like I won’t see you for a week, then.”

I blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Your dad and I decided to book a last minute trip” she said, her tone a mix of excitement and nonchalance. “A bridal convention came up in Cuba, and we thought we’d turn it into a bit of a holiday. We fly out early tomorrow morning.”

“Cuba?” I repeated, still trying to wrap my head around it.

“Yes” she confirmed. “We’ll be gone for a week. I was going to tell you at dinner tonight, but I guess this works too.”

“Oh” I said, unsure how else to respond. “Well, have a great trip, then.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. You have fun with Chris, okay? And make sure the studio stays a float while I’m gone!”

“I will” I assured her.

After we hung up, I sat on the edge of my bed for a moment. Mom and Dad in Cuba? That was unexpected, but I supposed it didn’t really matter. I’d have the house to myself for the week, which was rare.

I finished packing my bag, lost in a day dream until the sound of a car pulling up outside snapped me out of my thoughts. I glanced out the window and saw Chris parked outside in the rental car.

I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs to meet him. Whatever this night away held, I hoped it would be the reset we both desperately needed.

Chris opened the passenger door for me with a small smile, taking my bag and tossing it gently into the backseat before I got in. The rental car smelled like fresh leather, and the interior was pristine, not too far off his usual car. I buckled in, glancing over as he settled into the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the wheel confidently.

As we pulled away from my house, Chris glanced at me with a grin. “I’ve got you some snacks for the trip. They’re in the back seat” he said, nodding toward the rear.

I twisted around and spotted a paper bag filled with goodies. Curiosity piqued, I reached for it, pulling it onto my lap. Inside, there were all my favorites: a bag of salt and vinegar chips, a chocolate bar, a can of Fanta, and even a small bag of gummy bears.

I laughed softly. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“Had to” he replied, a playful smirk on his lips. “Can’t have you complaining about being hungry halfway there.”

I unwrapped the chocolate bar and broke off a piece, popping it into my mouth. “I wasn’t going to complain” I teased. “But this definitely earns you some bonus points.”

Chris chuckled, his eyes flicking toward me briefly before returning to the road. “Good to know I’m earning points.”

The car hummed softly as we merged onto the highway, the city slowly giving way to more open spaces. I leaned back in my seat, letting the scenery blur past us. The tension that had been weighing me down since last night started to lift, piece by piece.

We fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds coming from the car engine and the low hum of the radio playing a soft indie tune. I opened the bag of gummy bears and offered some to Chris. He plucked out a green one and popped it into his mouth without taking his eyes off the road.

“So, this villa” I said, breaking the silence. “What’s it like?”

“Nice” he said, his tone casual. “Big porch, private access to Long Pond. The pictures made it look cozy, thought it’d be perfect for us.”

I smiled at the thought, imagining us sitting by the water, the world finally feeling quiet and still for a moment.

The drive stretched on, but with Chris beside me and my favorite snacks in hand, it didn’t feel long at all. By the time we reached Cape Cod, the late afternoon sun was casting golden hues over the landscape, and the tension I’d been carrying felt like a distant memory.

The villa was stunning, much bigger than I expected. It was perched near the edge of Long Pond, its pristine white exterior glowing softly in the evening sunlight. I glanced over at Chris as he parked the car, his hands still on the wheel as he looked out at the villa with a faint smirk.

“Wow” I murmured. “This is.. a lot.”

Chris chuckled, turning off the engine. “Thought you deserved a little extra.”

We got out of the car, and I grabbed my bag as Chris walked around to join me. The air smelled fresh, carrying the faint scent of the lake and pine trees. The villa's large porch wrapped around the front, and I could already see adirondack chairs with big pillows on them, set up facing the water.

Chris unlocked the door, holding it open for me. Inside, the space was bright and airy, with high ceilings and large windows that overlooked the pond. The hardwood floors gleamed, and the furniture was modern yet cozy.

“Four bedrooms?” I laughed as I peeked into the hallway. 

Chris grinned, tossing his bag onto the couch. “Yeah, thought we could have options”

We walked through the villa, exploring every room. The kitchen was spacious, with marble countertops and state of the art appliances. The living room had a massive fireplace and a TV mounted above it. Upstairs, the master bedroom had a king sized bed, a balcony, and an en suite bathroom with a huge soaking tub.

“Alright, this is way too fancy for us” I joked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Chris leaned against the doorway, watching me with a playful glint in his eyes. “Nothing’s too fancy for you.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the warmth that spread through me at his words.

After dropping off our bags, Chris clapped his hands together. “There’s an arcade down the road” he said. “Wanna go? Thought we could make it a little date night.”

I glanced at the clock. It was nearing 6pm, and the idea of a carefree evening sounded perfect. “Yeah, why not?”

“Good” he said, flashing me a grin. “Let’s head out.”

We left the villa and made our way to the arcade, a small, charming spot lit up with neon signs. Inside, the place was buzzing with energy, the sound of coins clinking and games chiming filling the air.

Chris exchanged a few bills for tokens and handed me half. “Let’s see if you can beat me at air hockey” he challenged, his grin widening. “Ready to lose?” he teased, his tone dripping with playful confidence.

“Lose? Oh, you’re in for it” I shot back, already eyeing the air hockey table.

We headed straight there, and Chris slid me a paddle, smirking as he dropped the puck onto the table. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

“I was born ready” I replied, bracing myself.

The game started off evenly matched, the puck zipping back and forth across the table as we both focused intently. Chris scored the first point, and his triumphant grin was maddening.

“Lucky shot” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Pure skill” he countered with a wink.

I leaned into the game, determined to even the score. The table’s vibrations buzzed under my palms as I deflected his shots and sent the puck flying back toward him. My persistence paid off, I managed to sneak a goal past him, and my celebration was nothing short of theatrical.

“Oh I have this one!” I declared, laughing.

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Not a chance.”

The match was intense, filled with laughter, playful banter, and a few “accidental” distractions from Chris. By the end, he edged me out with one last goal, throwing his arms up in exaggerated victory.

“Champion of the universe” he announced dramatically, pointing to himself.

“Champion of being annoying” I retorted, laughing.

Next, we moved to the skee ball lanes. I took a moment to examine my lane, plotting my strategy. Chris stood beside me, casually rolling his first ball and landing an effortless 50 point shot.

“No way” I muttered, trying not to let him psych me out.

I took my first roll and managed to land in the 40 point slot, earning a small cheer from Chris. “Alright, alright. Not bad” he teased.

The game turned into a full on competition, with each of us trying to outdo the other. Chris had a knack for the high scores, but I managed to hit the elusive 100 point slot twice, earning myself some serious bragging rights.

“Looks like I’m not the only champion around here” I said smugly, watching as Chris missed his last roll.

He shook his head with a laugh. “Beginner’s luck.”

We moved on to bowling, a tiny alley tucked into the corner of the arcade. Chris insisted on going first, confidently rolling his ball down the lane. It curved slightly and knocked down seven pins.

“Decent” I said, grabbing my ball.

My first roll was a gutter ball, much to Chris’s amusement. He didn’t even try to hide his laughter.

“I don’t have the bumpers up this shit is hard!” I said while laughing, lining up for my second roll. This time, I managed to knock down eight pins. “Comeback season” I declared with a grin.

The game was a rollercoaster of strikes, spares, and the occasional gutter ball, on my behalf. 

After bowling, Chris pulled me toward a claw machine filled with plush toys. He studied the prizes like a man on a mission, his eyes locking onto a large white teddy bear holding a red rose.

“You want it?” he asked, already feeding tokens into the machine.

I smiled. “It’s cute, but those things are rigged.”

“Not when I’m in charge” he said confidently.

I watched as he maneuvered the claw with precision, lowering it carefully over the bear. The claw gripped it tightly and began lifting, and I held my breath.

To my surprise, it made it all the way to the chute without dropping. Chris reached in, pulling out the teddy bear with a triumphant grin.

“For you” he said, handing it to me with a flourish.

I hugged the bear, unable to stop smiling. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

Chris shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “What can I say? I aim to impress.”

We left the arcade with our tickets redeemed, my new teddy bear in hand, and hearts lighter than they’d been in days. As we made our way back to the villa, the sun was long gone, the moon casting a glistening glow over the lake.

We stepped into the villa, the lingering excitement from the arcade still buzzing between us. I set the teddy bear on the couch, its red rose contrasting beautifully against the neutral tones of the living room. Chris stretched his arms above his head, his hoodie riding up slightly to reveal a hint of his toned stomach, before plopping onto one of the oversized armchairs.

"Alright" he said, pulling out his phone, "What’s the plan for dinner? Fancy some Uber Eats?"

I smiled, kicking off my shoes as I sat cross legged on the couch. “Honestly, carbonara sounds amazing right now. And maybe a bottle of wine wouldn’t go a miss.”

Chris chuckled, already scrolling through options. “Carbonara and wine it is. Anything else? Breadsticks? Dessert?”

I tilted my head, considering. “Breadsticks, definitely. And maybe some tiramisu if they have it.”

He nodded, his fingers flying over the screen. “Got it. You’re lucky you have me, your personal gourmet delivery expert.”

I laughed, leaning back into the cushions. “Oh, is that what you are now? Adding it to the resume?”

“Absolutely” he said with mock seriousness. “It’s a highly sought after skill. You understand how many people would love to have such qualifications?”

A few minutes later, he set his phone down on the coffee table. “Food’s ordered. Should be here in about thirty minutes.”

“Perfect” I said, stretching my legs out in front of me. “That gives us time to pick out a movie or something.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Or we could just sit out on the deck, enjoy the view for a bit while we wait.”

I glanced toward the sliding glass doors leading to the deck. “You’re right that sounds nice.”

We grabbed a couple of blankets from the linen closet and stepped out onto the deck. The air was cool, but not cold, carrying the faint scent of pine and the water. Chris draped one of the blankets over my shoulders before wrapping the other around himself.

“You know” he said, leaning on the wooden railing, “it’s kind of crazy how peaceful it is out here.”

I joined him, resting my arms on the railing as I looked out over the lake. “It’s like another world. Hard to believe it’s just an hour and a bit out of the city.”

Chris nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Makes you think, doesn’t it? About what it’d be like to live somewhere like this all the time.”

I turned to look at him, my heart tugging at the sincerity in his voice. “Would you want that?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Maybe someday. For now, though, I’m happy just being here with you.”

The warmth in his words settled over me, a quiet comfort that chased away the lingering tension from the past few days.

Before we could dive further into the conversation, the soft buzz of his phone broke the moment. He glanced at the screen and grinned. “Dinner’s here. Be right back.”

As he disappeared round the front to grab the food while I stayed on the porch deck, I noticed a heater behind us on the wall, and the gas fire pit next to the table. Chris was too distracted by trying to make everything perfect to even notice them so I decided to turn them on just for a bit of extra heat.  

As Chris came back onto the deck, his arms full with the Uber Eats bag and wine bottle, his face lit up in surprise. The orange and yellow glow from the heater and the fire pit bathed the space in a warm, cozy light.

"We have a fire pit?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

"We do have a fire pit" I said, laughing. "I thought we could make the most of it and eat out here. It’s too nice not to."

He shook his head, still smiling. “You always think of everything.”

Chris set the bag on the table while I stepped inside to grab plates. On my way back, I turned on the TV mounted on the wall of the deck, connected my phone to the Spotify app, and shuffled my liked songs.

“This is a vibe” Chris said, nodding appreciatively as he started unpacking the food.

I set the plates down and helped him dish out the carbonara, adding the breadsticks and tiramisu to the table. Chris popped the cork on the wine bottle and poured us each a glass, the flickering light from the fire pit reflecting in the deep white liquid.

We sat down, the heater above us keeping the cool night air at bay. The sound of the lake lapping against the shore mixed with the music, creating a tranquil atmosphere.

“This is really nice” I said, taking a bite of my carbonara. The creamy, rich sauce was exactly what I’d been craving.

Chris leaned back in his chair, his plate nearly empty already. “It’s perfect. I’m glad we came here.”

I looked at him, the golden light from the fire illuminating his features. He seemed more relaxed, the usual tension in his shoulders gone for the moment.

As the last bite of carbonara disappeared from my plate, the opening chords of Strangers in the Night by Frank Sinatra filled the air, smooth and timeless. My heart skipped a beat as the familiar melody swirled around us.

“Oh, I love this song” I said, the words slipping out before I could think. It had always been one of my favorites.

I leaned back in my chair, letting the music wash over me. “I want this to be my first dance song at my wedding” I added, almost wistfully.

Chris, who had been slowly finishing his wine, looked at me with a soft smile. “First dance, huh?” he repeated, as if savoring the thought.

Without another word, he stood up, his eyes never leaving mine. His hand stretched out toward me. “Dance with me.”

I blinked in surprise, my pulse quickening. "Here? Now?"

Chris nodded, the smile on his face playful but sincere. “Why not?”

A smile tugged at my lips. “Okay” I said, standing and placing my hand in his.

He gently pulled me toward him, guiding me to the center of the deck where the soft glow of the fire pit illuminated the space around us. The cool night air seemed to soften, like the world around us faded into the background as the song played on.

His hands settled on my waist, and mine naturally rested on his shoulders. We swayed to the music, the sound of Sinatra’s voice filling the space between us. There was something intimate about the moment, about the way he held me close, as though we were the only two people in the world.

“I really want to marry you one day, Y/n” Chris whispered in my ear, his voice steady but filled with raw emotion. “It feels so right.”

His words hung in the air between us, and I couldn’t help the way my heart swelled in response. It was like every doubt, every fear I had felt about the future, about us, suddenly melted away. There was something about this moment, the way he held me, the way he spoke so honestly, that made everything feel certain.

I pulled back just enough to look at him, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation, but all I saw was sincerity. His hands remained on my back, steady and sure, and I could feel the weight of his words, the truth in them.

“I-” I started, but my voice caught. My chest felt tight, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions. I didn’t know what to say. Part of me felt like I should say something grand, something that matched the enormity of what he’d just shared, but the truth was, I was overwhelmed in the best possible way.

Instead, I just smiled, letting my heart speak for me as I reached up and kissed him softly on the lips. It was simple, but it was everything.

“Me too” I whispered when I pulled away. “It feels right.”

Chris leaned in, his hand still cradling my cheek as his lips met mine. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was the kind that made the world fall away, leaving only the two of us. His other arm wrapped securely around my waist, pulling me closer as if he couldn’t bear for there to be even an inch of space between us.

I melted into him, my hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was the kind of kiss that spoke a thousand unsaid words, every emotion pouring out in the simplest but most profound way.

When we finally pulled back, our foreheads rested against each other, and I opened my eyes to find his already gazing into mine. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting every feature I adored. His eyes held a softness I rarely saw, a vulnerability that made my heart ache in the best way.

“I’m in love with you” Chris said, his voice barely above a whisper, but each word landed with the weight of something undeniable.

My breath hitched, the sincerity in his tone sent butterflies swirling in my stomach. I could feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming rush of happiness and love.

“I’m in love with you too” I replied, my voice trembling slightly as I smiled at him. “So much.”

Chris’s lips curved into that lopsided smile I adored, and he brushed a thumb over my cheek, wiping away the tear that had escaped. “You don’t know how happy that makes me” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

We stood there for a moment longer, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the weight of our words settle. The fire crackled softly in the background, Strangers in the Night played on, the timeless melody floating around us as we held each other, the worries of the past days melting away.

In that moment, everything felt perfect. Nothing else mattered, not the chaos waiting for us back in Boston, not the uncertainty of what tomorrow would bring. It was just us, standing under the stars, wrapped in the kind of love that made the world feel small and infinite all at once.

a/n: THEYRE SO CUTE I CAAAAAANT . If you've never heard this song before please listen so you get the full feels!!! Part 20 tomorrow. (Hopefully 6pm GMT)

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @bernardsbunny @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend @lvrsturniolo @sophand4n4 @ilovepurpledragons @mattsside @riasturns @sturnslutz @chrisstxrnsaxe @sturnslutz @2prcntmilkluvr

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14A: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O' Mine,” Guns N' Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

She's got eyes of the bluest skies As if they thought of rain I'd hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place Where as a child I'd hide And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by...

Philadelphia || June 1988

Claire pushed her chair back a bit from the desk. Raised her arms. Stretched. Breathed deeply.

Reading for the eighth time the words she’d finally tapped out on the Selectric this morning, after days of rolling them around in her head.

Chief Physician

Boston Medical Center

To Whom It May Concern,

As you may be aware, I am a trauma surgeon at BMC. Twelve months ago I was placed on administrative leave by the BMC, and my medical license was suspended, pending the resolution of BMC’s internal investigation into my conduct. The investigation started by looking into a near-fatal error I committed during a surgery, and then quickly discovered that I had not only been forging prescriptions and stealing painkillers for quite some time, but also developed a severe addition to those painkillers.

As you may also be aware, I did not contest the actions taken by BMC. Subsequently I enrolled in an intensive drug rehabilitation program in North Carolina. I am happy to share that I am almost twelve months clean, having completed the program last December and successfully maintained my sobriety since then.

I have previously communicated to the Board, on several occasions, my sincere regret for what I did and my remorse for the incredible lapse of professional judgment and ethical standards I demonstrated. I repeat those regrets to you now.

Which is, in part, why I am writing you today. I wish to understand what else is required of me to return to work, in any capacity, at BMC.

Making amends for wrongs was something that Claire and Geillis had talked about a lot, during her time at The Ridge. Yes, doing that was a formal part of any 12 Step program.

But it was more than just saying sorry – it required the addict to recognize the wrongs.

To own them. To understand why they had happened, and the impact they had had on others.

Because nothing sounded more inadequate in the English language than the two words, I’m sorry.

But words matter. And this attitude shift was a crucial step on any addict’s road to recovery.

Making amends was something that Claire and Jamie had talked a lot about, too. She had seen him make amends many times, in their short time together – and quite often during their last few weeks on the road, as they traveled city to city for Print’s acoustic tour and Jamie came into contact with many people who had last seen him drunk/rude/high/demanding/hung over/acting like a total asshole during the last (disastrous) tour in ’86.

He made it a point to really talk to each person, to apologize for specific things he remembered doing. No matter if it was the venue manager, or the catering guy, or the lighting guy, or the security guard. I was a dick when I was drunk. I said terrible things. I hurt you. I’m sorry.

Two weeks ago in Chicago, he couldn’t sleep after a fucking incredible show at the old Chicago Theater. The adrenaline buzz after the show so much better than any pills or bourbon or groupie could have given him. He had tossed and turned for hours, until finally, quietly slipping out of their bed and perching in the easy chair in their suite at the Palmer House, watching Claire shift restlessly under the covers without him.

But of course, she knew when something was wrong. She woke, and turned to face him, easing up on one elbow. Watching him back. Giving him space.

When he finally spoke, it was just above a raspy whisper.

“How can you be here, Claire, when all you do is hear me talk about how awful I was to so many people?”

Her heart did break a little bit. “Because I never knew that version of you, Jamie. What I care about is who you are now.”

He sighed, breath ragged. “This shit is so fucking hard.”

“I know, baby.” Somehow she was standing beside him, and blindly he buried his face into the warm skin of her belly. She threaded her fingers in his hair, held him close as his pulse spiked.

“Deep breaths, Jamie. Focus on me. I’m here.”

He had had several panic attacks during the tour. Which could be chalked up to anything – the stress of changing hotels every day, the crush of fans and press that clustered around their tour bus when they arrived in a new city, the women who pulled down their tops in the front row at every concert, the Jack Daniels bottles and little baggies of powder left in his dressing room before the show in Wilkes-Barre.

But instead of smashing to pieces all alone, she sheltered him. He knew when to ask for help. And always found her just in time to crash against her, shaking and crying in bathroom stalls and green rooms and even once on the deserted tour bus. And each time she was so grateful for the psych rotation she’d done in med school that prepared her to help him.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

“Breathe in, Jamie. Think about how much I love you.”

He drew in a deep, sobbing breath.

“That’s right. Now exhale. I’m never going to leave you.”

He exhaled, shoulders shuddering.

“And inhale, Jamie. We can get hamburgers for breakfast again, if you want.”

He inhaled, and she felt a faint smile against her belly.

“That’s right. And out. Think about how amazing our wedding night will be.”

He exhaled. Gently bit the soft, soft skin above her bellybutton. She shivered, and smiled.

“Good. Center on me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She counted along with him – twenty four more deep breaths. Caressing his forehead, and kissing his hair, and loving him and loving him and loving him.

Finally when he had calmed down, she crawled back into bed, and he held her so close against him. Kissing her forehead. Whispering endless words of love.

“If I ever fuck up with you, Claire, know I’ll always own it.”

She kissed his eyebrows. “The same for me, Jamie. I’d rather be mad at you than not have you.”

He had said the same words to her this morning. A promise he never tired of repeating. Murmured against her hair when he bent over to kiss her in the bed, body thrumming with energy.

Colum had booked a studio here in Philadelphia for the day, so that the band could lay down recordings of the acoustic tracks they’d played to dozens of sold-out crowds during the tour. With the incredible press from the tour – thanks in no small part to Geordie Ash’s profile in Rolling Stone – and bootlegs in wide circulation, it was time. And for once, the band agreed with the label.

She would join him later, of course. But today she needed the time to herself, to finally write and then mail the letter to Boston.

All because of Jamie.

“You can’t stay in a state of limbo forever, Claire,” he had said one night, meeting her eyes in the bathroom mirror as he gently brushed her shower-wet hair. “And I know we still don’t know where we’ll live when we’re married. But you have the right to know.”

She had sighed, jamming her hands in the deep pockets of the hotel bathrobe. “I don’t want to go back to that life.”

He had set down the hairbrush they shared, slipping his hands into the pockets, pulling her close against him. “I know. But you can’t have that door hanging open, Claire. Whether you open it or close it, you know I support you. But you’re not doing yourself any favors by not knowing.”

She had nodded, and pursed her lips. Smiling just a little as he kissed the shell of her ear.

She blinked, and turned back to the typewriter.

I have been traveling for the past few weeks, and won’t be back to Boston for at least the next month. Although I may not be immediately reachable by mail or telephone, I’m enclosing the contact information for someone who can get any letter or other message to me.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Dr. Claire Beauchamp

She gently pulled the paper from the typewriter roll. Signed her name. Took a deep breath. Began to address the envelope.

[overthebluemoon]

BLUE MOON! is a kpop GIRL GROUP formed in 2018 by OUTSIDER MEDIA. they first debuted with FOUR members in 2018, though in 2022 added a FIFTH and FINAL member. the group currently consists of FIVE members; JINRI, ARIES, DELLA, COMET, and TAEHA.

KANG JINRI is the LEADER, MAIN RAPPER, LEAD DANCER, VOCAL, CENTER, and PRODUCER of the girl group BLUE MOON. she was first shown to the public through the survival show PRODUCE 48 where she placed 15TH overall.

FULL NAME :: kang jinri

STAGE NAME :: jinri

BIRTHDAY :: february 10, 1999

POSITION :: leader, main rapper, lead dance, vocal, center, and producer

FACECLAIM :: jeon soyeon

BACKGROUND!

KANG JINRI was born in BUSAN, SOUTH KOREA as an only child in her family. from a young age her parents pushed her to be the best of the best in school, which only seemed to push her further and further away from it. when she was little, her uncle produced music and she always looked up to him for it, wanting nothing more than to be like him when she grew up. her uncle helped her learn all about producing even if her parents hated that it was talking time away from her studies. JINRI knew that if she wanted to get her parents approval to be a producer one day, she would have to become one of the best, which had her working every spare moment on becoming better. in 2016, she began posting her music online, where it was eventually found by MINJI, a member of the girl group LOTUS along with a producer under OUTSIDER MEDIA, and she asked to become a mentor for the young producer. JINRI agreed and started to work under MINJI, though in 2017, OUTSIDER MEDIA asked her to become an idol trainee to be in their next girl group. after only a few months of training, she appeared on the survival show PRODUCE 48, where she placed 15TH overall, just missing the debut lineup and went back to her company to debut in OUTSIDER MEDIA’S next girl group BLUE MOON.

NAM HYUNBIN, professionally known as ARIES, is the LEAD VOCAL and VISUAL of the girl group BLUE MOON. prior to being added into BLUE MOON in 2022, she was a well known MODEL due to her parents fame in the ENTERAINMENT INDUSTRY.

FULL NAME :: nam hyunbin

STAGE NAME :: aries

BIRTHDAY :: april 5, 1999

POSITION :: lead vocal and visual

FACECLAIM :: kim minjeong

BACKGROUND!

NAM HYUNBIN was born as the THIRD child and ONLY daughter of famous parents NAM DONGHYUN and KWON GYURI. her parents were one of the biggest couples in the entertainment industry and from a young age their kids were pushed into the public eye. she appeared in her father’s dramas and as a child model from numerous campaigns since she was little, focusing more on modeling once she hit her teen years. once she turned eighteen, she stopped appearing in the public eye all together, causing numerous rumors to pop up. HYUNBIN had decided her hated modeling and that she wanted to be an idol from the age thirteen, though her parents refused to hear anything about that, wanting her to follow in her mother’s footsteps and become a model. while she was younger, she couldn’t do much to change their minds, though at the age of eighteen she refused to take anymore modeling gigs and started to audition for many different companies. many companies were after her, though she didn’t want to go to one of the big companies, instead choosing OUTSIDER MEDIA, where she trained for a few years before being added into the BLUE MOON lineup when MAISIE had pulled out of it after IZ*ONE’S disbandment.

DELLA JANG is the LEAD VOCAL of the girl group BLUE MOON. prior to BLUE MOON, she had been a member of the girl group MISSKISS, which disbanded after only a year in 2017 and then appeared on the survival show PRODUCE 48 where she placed 38TH overall.

FULL NAME :: della jang

STAGE NAME :: della

BIRTHDAY :: may 16, 1999

POSITION :: lead vocal

FACECLAIM :: lee chaeryeong

BACKGROUND!

DELLA JANG was born as an only child in BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS. DELLA had always been a very hyperactive child and her parents put her in dance classes given by her preschool to tire her out. she started to really enjoy dancing, though it was always more of just a hobby for her. she also joined her schools theater program as a way to keep her busy after school, falling in love with singing and lots of musicals. when she was sixteen, she and her family went on a trip to SOUTH KOREA, where she was street casted by a small agency and decided to try her luck with an audition. she made it through the audition and quickly became a trainee under the company and debuted in the company's first girl group MISSKISS, which quickly disbanded after a year of inactivity. she then moved to OUTSIDER MEDIA with her fellow members MAISIE and TAEHA in hopes to debut in the company’s next girl group. she then quickly appeared on PRODUCE 48 where she placed 38TH overall, failing to make it into the debut lineup. she then came back to OUTSIDER MEDIA, where she debuted in the girl group BLUE MOON.

CHALITA 'COMET' NIKULPHON, professionally known as COMET, is the MAIN DANCER and VOCALIST of BLUE MOON. before her debut, she had been one of the most well known OUTSIDER MEDIA trainees.

BIRTH NAME :: chalita 'comet' nikulphon

STAGE NAME :: comet

BIRTHDAY :: june 2, 1999

POSTION :: main dancer, vocalist

FACE CLAIM :: natty

BACKGROUND!

CHALITA 'COMET' NIKULPHON was born in BANGKOK, THAILAND as the oldest child of three kids. her parents put her in dance classes as a kid, due to her mom loving taking dance classes as a kid, and COMET quickly fell in love with dancing. she started dancing all the time and quickly became a competitive dancer where she was noticed by some kpop companies around the age of fifteen. she joined JYP ENTERTAINMENT and began to train, though once she saw that she would likely not debut in their next group she left and joined OUTSIDER MEDIA in 2017 where she trained and joined the lineup of BLUE MOON, debuting in 2018.

LEE TAEHA is the MAIN VOCAL, LEAD DANCER, and MAKNAE of BLUE MOON. she had also been a member of the girl group MISSKISS with fellow member DELLA prior to the debut of BLUE MOON.

BIRTH NAME :: lee taeha

STAGE NAME :: taeha

BIRTHDAY :: july 2, 2000

POSTION :: main vocal, lead dancer, maknae

FACE CLAIM :: an yujin

BACKGROUND!

KIM TAEHA was born in DAEGU, SOUTH KOREA as the youngest of two kids. ever since she was little she wanted to be a singer from watching idols on stage. she began learning how to sing, though never actually got formal lessons. when she was fourteen, she finally convinced her mother to start letting her audition for companies, though she got rejected from most of them and kept audition to different companies for a year before being accepted to GLOWLIGHT ENTERTAINMENT, where she was quickly placed in the debut lineup for MISSKISS, which debuted in 2016. once the group disbanded after a year of inactivity, she moved over to OUTSIDER MEDIA with MAISIE and DELLA and debuted in BLUE MOON following the completion of PRODUCE 48.

[misfitwashere]

Friends,

Trump called attention to the discrepancy between his height (reportedly 6-foot-3) and Kamala Harris’s (5-7½ in heels), insisting that no accommodation be made to appear closer in size.

“No boxes or artificial lifts will be allowed to stand on during my upcoming debate with Comrade Kamala Harris,” he wrote, adding that such accommodations would be “a form of cheating.” There’s no evidence Harris has sought such things. 

Nicholas Rule, a psychology professor at the University of Toronto who researches social perception and cognition, said Harris’s shorter height will be irrelevant tonight because she exudes “Tall Energy,” which he defined as “the confidence that comes from being above average height.”

I am 4-feet-10. At my highest, I was 4-feet-11. I doubt I have “Tall energy.” But if I were on the stage tonight with Donald Trump, I’d demolish him. 

To be sure, when it comes to choosing leaders, our society is exceptionally heightist. 

When I ran for the Democratic nomination for governor of Massachusetts in 2002, it seemed that the only attribute reporters wanted to cover was my height. Regardless of what I said in my speeches, the Boston Globe ran photos of me standing on boxes so I could see over the podium. The right-wing Boston Herald ran a headline on its front page charging “Short People Are Furious with Reich” because I had joked about my height on the campaign trail. 

None of it helped me with that election. But I didn’t lose because of my height. I lost because I was a lousy campaigner.

Research shows that voters do prefer taller candidates. A paper published in 2013 by psychologists at the University of Groningen in the Netherlands analyzed the results of American presidential elections dating back to 1789. They found that taller candidates received more votes than shorter ones in roughly two-thirds of all elections. And the taller the candidates were relative to their opponents, the greater the average margin of their victory. 

Among presidents who have sought a second term, winners have been two inches taller, on average, than losers. The authors conclude that height may explain as much as 15 percent of the variation in election outcomes. 

It’s similar in the private sector. A survey of the heights of CEOs of Fortune 500 companies showed they were on average six feet tall -- about 2.5 inches taller than the average American man.

Why are we so heightist? Probably because of some genetic trigger in our brain that told early humans they needed the protection of very big men. Other things being equal, large males are more to be feared and they live longer. An impulse to defer to them, or prefer them as mates, makes evolutionary sense.

In Size Matters, Stephen S. Hall writes that in the eighteenth-century Frederick William of Prussia paid huge sums to recruit giant soldiers from around the world, thereby giving tangible value to matters of inches, and revealing “the desirability of height for the first time in a large, post-medieval society.”

But hey, I’m okay with giant soldiers, big security guards, and massive CEOs. I don’t care if I lack “Tall energy.” I’m fortunate to have grown up (or at least grown upward) in a society that values brains at least as much as brawn.

Kamala will win tonight, and she’ll go on to win the election in 55 days — not because of her “Tall energy,” but because she’s smarter, tougher, and better in every way than her large, stupid, decrepit opponent. 

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 10

You take Joel and Tommy around the QZ and reconnect while Andrew has misgivings. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-9 found on Tumblr here.

Main pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Length: 9.1K (sorryyyyyyyy)

Warnings: Smut :D YES FRIENDS JOEL IS BACK SO WE GET SMUT Oral sex, female receiving; unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up kids); no use of Y/N. Minors, DNI. 18+ only

“You’re not OK.” 

You were staring at the doors where they’d just taken Joel and Tommy. You couldn’t stop watching the doors. 

“Hey.” 

Andrew’s hand went over your shoulder. 

“Yeah?” You said, glancing at him for a moment before looking back at the doors. 

“C’mon,” he said. “We should get you out of here, you’re not OK.” 

You looked up at him. 

“Can I stay with you?” You asked. 

“Sure you don’t want to do your place?” He frowned. “I’ll go there…”

“Yours is closer,” you said.  

“By a block!” 

You shrugged. He sighed. 

“Yeah, my place.” 

He put his arm around you and tucked you against his side, staying mercifully quiet on the walk to his apartment. 

Joel was here. In Boston. He was alive, he’d survived all this time. He was here. Sarah wasn’t. 

“Hey Andrew,” his roommate, Steve, was on the couch, playing a GameBoy. He did a double take when he saw you. “Doc! Haven’t seen you in a bit. Thought you guys were doing better on the codependency thing…” 

“Not the night for it, dude,” Andrew cut him off. 

“No, it’s fine,” you sighed, flopping on an arm chair that you’d help them fix. You’d had to figure out an upholstery needle for that one. “You’re right. I’m just a shit show of a person at the moment.” 

“What happened?” He asked, glancing back at you before going back to the GameBoy. 

“Joel’s here,” Andrew said, putting a glass of whiskey in your hand and sitting on the floor by the couch. 

“Wait what?” Steve turned and stared at you. The GameBoy made a sad sound. “Aw shit, that was my last life…” 

“Sorry,” you said, taking a sip of the liquor. It was bad. You didn’t care. You looked in the direction of the clinic. 

“The fuck did Joel come from?” Steve asked, sitting up and tossing the GameBoy on their gouged coffee table. “Five years and he just appears out of the ether? It’s THE Joel, right? The one you’ve been looking for since the outbreak started?” 

“Yup,” you took another drink. 

“And you’ve seen him,” he said. “It’s not like you heard about him showing up in like… Atlanta or some shit, right?” 

“Oh he’s here,” Andrew said, sounding none too happy about it. You frowned. “In holding at the clinic as we speak, had to pry him off her to get him to go back…” 

“You don’t like him,” you said it more than asked it. Andrew sighed. 

“I don’t not like him,” he said. He was choosing his words carefully. 

“Then what’s the deal?” You asked. “I thought you’d be happy for me.” 

“I’m happy he’s alive,” he shrugged. 

“But?” 

“But,” he sighed, looking up at you, clenching his jaw for a moment. “Look, I talk to a lot more smugglers than you do.” 

“Yeah, I really wish you wouldn’t do that…” you said but he ignored you. 

“I know what people do outside the QZ to get by,” he said. “None of it is good. If he’s made it this long, it’s because he’s done some shit. Bad shit.” 

“What are you saying?” You frowned down at him. 

“I’m saying,” he said slowly. “That the Joel you knew? Is probably long dead. Unless the Joel you knew was a killer. Because the one who showed up here is.” 

“We’re killers, too, Andrew,” you said quietly. “I killed a lot of people to get us here.” 

“You killed infected,” he corrected you. “I killed infected. That’s different, they’re dead men walking then. It’s a mercy killing. That’s not the kind of killing I’m talking about.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, shaking your head. “There’s no way…” 

“He might have been a fucking raider for all we know,” he said. 

“That’s harsh,” Steve said. 

“It’s true,” Andrew replied. “Steve, you deal with smugglers all the time.” 

“I cannot confirm or deny…” he replied but you cut him off. 

“Come on, I work for FEDRA because I have no other options. I’m not a narc,” you rolled your eyes. “I know you buy pot, Steve.” 

“Oh,” he said. “Then yeah, all the fucking time.” 

“And what do they say about the outside?” Andrew asked. “About the people they trade with?” 

“It’s… rough,” he said. “Even the smugglers have to do some shady shit. But that doesn’t mean he’s a raider…” 

“He’s not a raider,” you snapped. “He’d never have put Sarah at risk like that…” 

“Yeah and he showed up without her,” Andrew said. “Something killed her.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you snapped, jumping to your feet so you towered over him from his spot on the floor. “He’d have never done anything to hurt her, never would have let anything happen to her if he could do anything to stop it, he’d have died for that girl if he could have.” 

“Old Joel, sure,” he shrugged, looking you dead in the eye. “You don’t know this Joel, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s been a long five years. For everyone.” 

You sat back down, staying on the edge of the chair and chugging the last of the shitty whiskey. 

“I just don’t trust him with you,” he said, voice gentle. “You’re fragile…” 

“No I’m not,” you snapped. “I’ve survived everything you have.” 

“Emotionally fragile,” he replied. “You’re better than me that way.” 

You snorted. 

“By our powers combined, we’re almost a functioning person,” you joked. He laughed. 

“I’m just saying, I’m worried the guy is going to wreck you,” he said. Steve laughed, Andrew smacked him. “Dude. Not like that.” 

“Sorry,” he was still laughing. “Sorry, Doc!” 

Andrew sighed. 

“You know what I mean,” he said. “And I don’t want you suffering because you went in all open hearted to some guy you don’t actually know.” 

“It’s Joel,” you said softly. He sighed. 

“Yeah, I know it is.” 

The three of you stayed up drinking for a bit, your eyes always drifting back toward the clinic, where Joel was. 

“Alright, come on,” Andrew said eventually, half pulling you out of the chair. “You need to sleep, I know you’ve been going all day today and tomorrow’s going to be rough.” 

“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to sleep,” you said, looking toward the clinic again. 

“There’s nothing you can do for him right now,” he said gently. “And I think we can agree that the Joel you used to know would want you to get some sleep, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. 

“Then let’s go.”

You went to his room and got the pajamas out of the half drawer he’d left for you in the dresser. 

“You know, if we’re actually aiming to break the codependency habit, we should probably not leave shit at each other’s apartments,” you said, changing with your backs to each other. 

“We’re doing better than we were five years ago,” he said. 

“A low bar indeed,” you said, getting in bed. He climbed in beside you. “Sorry in advance.” 

“Yeah, I know what I’m getting into,” he said. “You do the same for me. Wake me up if you need it.” 

He held his arms open and you tucked yourself against his chest. 

“Same.” 

There were planes falling from the sky again. You could smell burning jet fuel and the inhuman sound of infected was deafening, so loud you couldn’t move. You just fell to your knees, hands over your ears, screaming to drown out the other sounds. 

“Help!” Sarah was in front of you, wearing the shorts and tank top she’d been in the last time you’d seen her, July five years earlier. You could see the metal of the barrettes in her hair, reflecting the fire as it burned. You reached for her but she was suddenly too far away, so far out of reach. But her voice somehow carried over the screams of the infected. “Help me!” 

“Hey!” Andrew shook you, snapping you back into reality. It took you a moment to figure out where you were. You were hyperventilating. “It’s OK, I’ve got you…” 

“Fuck,” your tense body loosened into the mattress. There were tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “Just breathe through it, you’re OK.” 

You nodded into his chest and did the best you could to obey. 

“What time is it?” You asked. 

“Just after 4:30,” he said. “You did pretty good, all things considered.” 

“Look at me, almost sleeping through the night,” you sniffed. “I’m like an accomplished infant.” 

“I’ve been in worse positions with you,” he said. He kissed the top of your head. “This is just what we do.” 

You stayed in bed until your heart rate returned to normal and got up, only then realizing that you didn’t have much in the way of clothing options at Andrew’s place and you certainly didn’t keep the things you liked the best there. It was a stupid thing to be worried about, but you wanted Joel to think you looked good. You wanted to feel like you looked good when you were with him. 

“Want to go back to your place real quick?” Andrew asked, leaning against his doorway. Like he could read your mind. At this point, he probably could. 

“No,” you said, putting on the shirt you had there. “I want to get to the clinic.” 

He sighed but went with you. 

“You’re going to be real early for work if you show up now,” you teased him, trying to focus on anything even slightly normal. 

“I know, it’s a change of habit,” he half smiled at you. “Aren’t you usually making excuses for me?” 

“We all just expect it now,” you shrugged. “You’re lucky I’m such an amazing doctor, they want to keep me sane so they’re stuck with you and your shit.” 

“Should really abuse that connection as long as possible,” he nodded solemnly. “Pretty much the only reason I keep you around, only a matter of time before you get wise.” 

You got to the clinic and he unlocked the front door, no other doctors there yet. 

“You can’t get him for an hour,” he said, leaning against the front counter. “They picked them up at 6 p.m., Lee and Elias won’t let you fudge the waiting period…” 

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed. “But I wanted to be here.” 

You were starting to wonder why you’d ever left the clinic at all. It felt better here, being in closer proximity. You couldn’t see Joel but you knew he wasn’t far, close enough that you could be to him in just a moment if it wasn’t for the walls and guards between you and the holding rooms. You could breathe easier knowing he was close, knowing you were going to touch him again in just a little while. That this was as close to him as you could get and you’d done what you could to be there. 

“C’mon,” he jerked his head and led you down to the doors for the holding rooms. You frowned but he just sat beside them and patted the floor next to him. “My lap’s a good pillow. Try to get some more sleep.” 

“You’re lap’s a shit pillow, actually,” you snorted but sat down beside him, anyway. “You’ve put on too much muscle, you need some pudge. You’re too hard.” 

Your head went into his lap anyway. He ran his fingers through your hair. 

“Bake for me more and we’ll see what happens on the pudge front,” he replied. 

You did manage to drift off for a few minutes, Andrew’s easy breathing and his hand in your hair making you feel secure enough to sleep again. But yelling from the other side of the door woke you up. 

You shot up with a jolt. 

“No,” you breathed, jumping to your feet and yanking on the doors. You knew they would be locked, you couldn’t get into the holding area without a security escort. You kept pulling anyway before you started beating on them. “Let me back! Let me back!” 

Andrew pulled you back and you fought to rip yourself away from him. 

“If he turned, you don’t want to see that,” he said, his arms caging you in. “If he’s turned, there’s nothing you can do…” 

“He’s not dying alone!” You sobbed, straining and reaching for the doors. “I don’t care if he’s turned he’s not dying alone!” 

The doors opened, a guard looking you over. 

“Friends of yours in there, Doc?” He asked. You nodded. “They’re pretty demanding, wanting to see you.” 

“So they didn’t turn?” You asked, going still. 

“Just as healthy as they were when they went in,” he replied. You went limp in Andrew’s arms, relieved. The guard sighed. “They’ve only got half an hour left, want to come sit with them? On this side of the bars, can’t let you back further.” 

You couldn’t seem to find your voice so you just nodded as fast as you could. Andrew released you and you all but ran into the holding area. 

It wasn’t a place you knew all that well, always escorted on the occasions you needed to come back and euthanize someone who came in infected but still lucid. You hated this place, hated being in there, hated that it seemed to reek of death even though you knew it was clean and sanitized. 

Joel was… loud. His voice carried and you were able to follow it easily, running full tilt until you found where he was. They were in separate cells and there was another set of bars separating the passage between the cells and where you were. Tommy noticed you first. 

“I don’t give a shit,” Joel was yelling.”I need to see her, I need to see her right now…” 

“Hey Kid,” he smiled sheepishly from the holding cell across from his brother. 

You gave him a quick smile as Joel realized you were there. His eyes ranged over you, like he was reassuring himself that you were alive. 

“Hey, Tommy,” you said. You weren’t looking at him. “Hey, Joel.” 

“He make enough noise that they went and woke you up?” Tommy asked. You still didn’t look at him but you shook your head. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” you replied. “Figured I’d just come here. I was going to just sit in the clinic but…” 

“Everything OK?” Andrew asked. It was almost reassuring that he hadn’t felt the need to run with you. Almost. 

“Yup,” you nodded once.

“My brother was just causing a scene,” Tommy said, giving him a wave. “I’m Tommy, by the way. That’s Joel. Seems like you’re a… friend of the Kid’s.” 

“The Kid’s?” You could hear Andrew’s frown. 

“What they called me back in the day,” you glanced back toward him. You were right, he was frowning. You looked back toward Joel and smiled a little. “Ten years ago now.” You realized that you hadn’t introduced anyone to someone else in… well, years. “Sorry, this is Andrew.” 

When he didn’t say anything you looked back at him, giving him a look. He sighed and raised a hand. 

“Hi,” he said, tone flat. You rolled your eyes and looked back to Joel. He was pretty much the only place you wanted to look. 

“There’s a lot you have to do when coming into the QZ,” you said after a moment of awkward silence. “I’m going to take you guys through it today, get you housing, into the system to find work, that sort of thing…”

“Gonna be weird to be in a system again,” Tommy joked. You glanced at him. He was watching Joel, closely. Trying to get him to engage. “Course starting out behind bars oughta kick start that process for me.”

“God, I bet,” you said, talking more to Tommy but glancing at Joel. “Should be old hat for you now. I pretty much went from one system to another but hey nothing was as bad as when I was trying to get into that one 400-level bio class my senior year. Remember that, Joel? I had to be on campus at 6 a.m. on registration day so I could get one of the slots? I made you take me so I wouldn’t have to park…” 

“You didn’t make me do anything,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I volunteered. Got to spend the morning with you, worth losing a little sleep.” 

You smiled. Andrew was wrong. Your Joel was still in there. He always would be. 

***

Joel hadn’t slept for shit. The dreams woke him up early. He’d dreamed of you dying before - more times than he cared to count, more times than he cared to think of. It had been a foregone conclusion then. He had the idea that he would have felt it when you died, sensed it somehow. He’d just… know. And he’d felt that way. The day after the outbreak, he’d felt it. 

He stopped looking for you then. Couldn’t handle it, having it confirmed on the off chance he ever found something leading to you. Not that there was any kind of record keeping in the apocalypse but he lived in fear of one day finding out that you’d been infected, that someone had hurt you before they killed you. 

But the lack of knowing left room for his mind to concoct the worst outcomes. You, torn to pieces by infected. You, shot and left to bleed out after your supplies were stolen. You, taken as a commodity by the kinds of men who grabbed power when things went to shit, killed when you were no longer useful. His unconscious mind had filled in every blank except one: you, alive. 

Now that he knew you were, the dreams were a different form of hell. They weren’t images of what had happened, things he couldn’t change no matter how much he wanted to. Instead they were fates that could befall you, things he desperately needed to protect you from. When the dreams woke him up this time, he couldn’t handle it. He had to see you. Confirm that you were alive, whole. And they were keeping him from you. 

He tried to keep it down for Tommy. He tried to ask nicely. It got him nowhere. It felt like he was going to lose his mind if he couldn’t just see you, just for a second, just to confirm that you were OK. The relief when saw you was acute, sharp. Like someone had healed a gaping knife wound in his chest. It took him a moment to even hear what you were saying. 

You kept looking at him, like you needed to see him, too. Only ever pulling your eyes away to glance at Tommy or sometimes the man who’d come in with you. Joel knew he’d heard his name but he hadn’t remembered it. He was just thankful he seemed to be keeping his fucking hands to himself. 

“Alright, step back guys,” the guard snapped Joel out of his own head, stepping forward with keys. He immediately obeyed. He started with Tommy first - probably punishment for Joel’s yelling overnight - and then moved to Joel. You were there, just one more set of bars between you. It seemed like unlocking that last fucking door took hours when he knew it had only been a moment and then he was holding you again. 

You somehow still smelled like lavender. It didn’t make sense, how the fuck did you smell like flowers in the apocalypse? Maybe he hadn’t found you. Maybe he’d finally lost his mind and he was hallucinating in a ditch somewhere. He didn’t fucking care. You were soft and warm and smelled like you and your arms were so tight around him he couldn’t take a full breath and he didn’t care about that either. 

“Can we get the fuck out of here?” Your… whatever he was said. “I hate it back here.” 

You nodded against Joel’s chest before you realized that you’d probably have to speak to answer him. 

“Yeah,” you said. Your voice was muffled by his shirt. “Let’s go.” 

You hand slipped into his as you separated from him, as though touching him was the most natural thing in the world, and you followed your friend out of the clinic. 

It was still dark outside, the city quiet. 

“Welcome to the Boston QZ,” you smiled a little, looking up at Joel. “Your luxury accommodations for the end of the world.” 

Tommy laughed. Joel smiled. You’d kept your sense of humor. 

“Truly the finest,” your friend was walking backwards so he could look at you. Joel narrowed his eyes at him. “Ration cards, FEDRA housing, a black market that occasionally has AC/DC albums. We have it all.” 

“You hid my Beatles CD at the clinic, I know you did,” you said, tone accusing but light. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tried to look innocent. “I do know that the next time you’re going into surgery and you just absolutely need ‘Hey Jude’ to get through it, it will magically appear.” 

“You’re the worst person,” you smiled as you said it. “Just a kick in the balls personified.”

“How would you even know!” 

“It was a very important part of my training,” you said seriously. “Studied ball kicking very intensely…” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

You stopped at a side street and your friend frowned. 

“I know you’re tired,” you said. 

“So.” 

“Don’t need an escort, Andrew.” 

Andrew. Joel tried to remember it this time.  

He glanced quickly at Joel then looked back to you. 

“You know why…” 

“And I’m saying I know that’s not a concern,” you cut him off. “I don’t need you to protect me.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe you do,” he replied. “Maybe I know better than you here.” 

“Andrew.” 

He sighed. 

“I’m checking on you later,” he said, pulling you into a hug and kissing your temple. Your hand stayed in Joel’s. He lowered his voice but Joel could still hear him. “Remember what I said. He’s not…” 

“I’ll be fine,” you looked up at him. He quickly glanced to Joel, kissed your temple again, and left. You watched him go for a moment. 

“Sorry about that,” you said brightly. “Andrew’s paranoid. Course I’m paranoid with him too so I guess it’s only fair… anyway, stop one on our tour is going to be my apartment. We can grab something to eat and I can get a few things to make getting you set up easier.” 

You led them another block to a building that had probably once been luxury apartments but those days were long passed. Your place was on the third floor and Joel liked that there were two deadbolts on your door. 

“Sorry, it’s pretty small…” you opened the door for them and turned on the lights. It was small, even by city standards. All one room, your bed against one wall with a small couch at the foot of it. A two seat table just off the kitchen that only had one stretch of counter. What little extra space there was was filled with shelves covered in books and CDs. “I never have more than one person over at a time but you guys take the table, I’ll see what I have here. Unfortunately Whataburger died with the rest of civilization and it never made it this far north to begin with so we’ll just have to make do with what I’ve got.” 

You opened a tin - one you’d painted because of course you had - and put it on the table. Tommy all but dove into it, grabbing an oatmeal cookie and taking a bite, moaning as he did. 

“Fuck, Kid, you still make a mean cookie,” he said, sitting back in his chair. You smiled.

“You just haven’t had cookies in a while,” you said. “Imagine if you could just get a fucking Oreo now?” 

“Yours are still better,” he shrugged. Joel took one, too, looking at it for a second. He hadn’t had anything like this in so long - and nothing of yours in even longer. He took a bite, absorbing it for a moment. Tommy was right. You still made fucking delicious cookies. He watched as you rifled through your tiny kitchen, pulling things out, frowning, considering them, setting them on the counter. You were still… you. He didn’t understand it. How were you still you? After everything that had happened to the world, you’d remained intact. 

“So first lesson in QZ foodstuffs,” you said, setting a few things out on the table. “Lots of shit that’s been preserved. Jerky is, unfortunately, your most reliable source of protein. We get the fresh stuff from time to time but it’s pricy. Andrew’s roommate Steve gets it the most but he usually asks me to cook it because they were teenage boys during the outbreak and couldn’t cook a steak if their lives depended on it…” You shook your head and smiled a little and then blushed. “Sorry, I’m rambling, I just haven’t talked to… Anyway! Dried fruit, I’ve still got some bread left from what I made the other day and there’s coffee. The coffee is pretty rough, fair warning, the beans are all like five years old.” 

You poured them each a cup, grabbed a slice of bread and went and sat on your small couch. Joel frowned, taking a piece of jerky and his coffee and sitting next to you. You just raised your eyebrows at him but didn’t question when he put his arm on the back of the couch and you slid into your place against him, head on his chest. He put his arm around you. This was better. 

“So how’s the ration card thing work?” Tommy asked after a moment of looking between the two of you. 

“They’ve basically just replaced money at this point,” you shrugged, still tucked against Joel’s side. He could feel you breathing. “I think they were intended to work differently than that - I was only in some of those discussions. I helped Dr. Elias set up the medical facilities here at first so I know a lot more about that. Even though that’s devolved a bit, too. I’ve tried to keep the better things going as I can but we’re reliant on what we can get from FEDRA out of Atlanta when it comes to medications and supplies. Originally, ration cards were intended to make it so everyone had enough and no one took too much but of course human nature took hold. I work a lot - don’t exactly have much else going on in my life - and it’s just me, so I’ve got a bit of a stash built up. We can use that to help make sure you guys get set up in a decent place, have food to get you going, that sort of thing.” 

“We can’t have you wasting your money on us,” Tommy tried to wave you off but you scoffed. “The fuck else am I supposed to use it on?” You rolled your eyes. “I’d rather them go to something good than sit with me forever.” 

After breakfast, you made Joel get off the couch and moved it slightly, prying up a floorboard below it. You pulled out an old shoebox and grabbed a few handfuls of cards from it, tucking them into a small bag. 

“Trusting you guys with the location of my secret stash,” you teased. “Don’t go clearing me out now.” 

You looked between them for a moment before something seemed to occur to you. 

“Oh, duh,” you shook your head. “I don’t think I have much here that would fit either of you - Andrew’s a bit on the skinny side - but did you want to shower real quick? We can always come back later, after we get you some clean clothes and whatnot but if you want to clean up now, too…” 

“Later’s fine,” Joel said quickly. He wasn’t sure he could handle being somewhat alone with you in your small apartment while Tommy got cleaned up. Not yet. Not if Andrew had clothes at your place. 

“Then on to the next adventure,” you smiled and led the way. 

You took them through the city, pointing out various landmarks and things of note (“That’s the speakeasy. Technically illegal but FEDRA officers are in there as often as anyone else, really the only safe spot for a drink in town.” “That’s where you go to find work until you can get something steady.” “Market’s here, use ration cards to get what you need…”). Your fingers were always laced with Joel’s. It seemed like everyone there knew you. Everywhere you stopped, someone said hi. Everyone called you Doc, like that was your name. Except one older man who made you practically jump out of your skin when you saw him. 

“Abe!” You called out, waving your arm up high. He spotted you and you started pulling Joel along behind you to meet him. 

“Sweets!” He pulled you in for a quick hug before looking Joel up and down. “Who’s this?” 

“It’s Joel and Tommy,” you smiled so huge your face shone with it. Abe’s eyes went wide. 

“Oh, Sweets,” he hugged you again. Your hand stayed in Joel’s. “I’m so happy for you. How’d you find them?”

“They showed up yesterday evening,” you were still smiling. “I knew they would turn up eventually…” 

“You did,” Abe stepped back from you, lifting your chin with his fingers, smiling affectionately at you. “Just goes to show you shouldn’t listen to an old man like me.” 

He looked at Joel at Tommy for a moment, like he was looking at ghosts, before looking back to you. 

“Take it I won’t be seeing you tomorrow then?” He asked, half smiling. 

“Hey, I said I’d bring you muffins,” you replied. “They just might be a few days late.” 

“You’ve fattened me up enough,” he hugged you tightly. “How about I just see you around. I’m so happy for you, sweetheart.” 

You watched him go for a second before turning back to Joel and Tommy. 

“I’m so sorry, I am so bad at introducing people now,” you shook your head. “I’ve just known everyone for years… That was Abe. He’s the radio operator here. It’s underground, goes to the other QZs but FEDRA turns a pretty blind eye. I’ve been his most regular customer for the last five years.” 

“Why?” Tommy frowned. “Why’d he seem to know us?” 

“I’ve been looking for you,” you replied, starting off again. “I figured if anyone was going to make it out alive, you guys were. And I didn’t think you’d go to a QZ until you either absolutely had to or you decided life outside the QZ wasn’t worth the trouble and you decided to give it a shot on the inside. I knew you’d turn up eventually. So Abe’s been radioing all the other QZs for me twice a week every week to see if you’d turned up.” 

Joel roughly pulled you into his chest, breathing in your hair. You hesitated for a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“You OK?” You asked, voice muffled. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Got you.” 

He could barely pay attention to anything else that happened. You hadn’t given up on him. You’d been searching, calling around, trying to track him down, certain that he was alive somewhere. You hadn’t given up on him. He’d just given up on you. 

Five years. Five fucking years you’d been almost exactly where he’d told you to go. Had he just gone where he’d said he’d go, he’d have tried Boston almost immediately. And he’d have found you. He could have been with you the last half a decade and instead he’d been wandering the wasteland that had been the United States, finding places to lay low, killing whoever he needed to for supplies, justifying it with survival. And you’d been here, searching for him. 

There were a few changes about you he noticed as you helped them through the process of getting set up in the QZ. One was, you’d become a deft negotiator. You were still you about it - never cold or cruel, all kindness and sweetness as you bartered, leveraging your personality and skills in the process - but it was strange to see you go back and forth with the housing person to try to get them what you thought was a suitable place. You did it, though, counting out the ration cards in your bag and passing them over with a kind smile. 

You did something similar at the clothing shop, chatting with the woman who was putting out new stock to get her to point out where the better stuff was and asking after the cashier’s child (“How’s that incision looking? Still holding food down OK? Need me to come by and check up on him?”) She gave you a discount and you told her to just come by the clinic if she changed her mind about her son, that you’d be happy to make a house call. 

Five years you’d been here and you’d built yourself a life. You somehow managed to have everyone you met wrapped around your finger. It was the end of the fucking world and you’d made everyone fall in love with you. Of course you had. You’d stayed sweet and soft and kind through it all and Joel couldn’t understand it. 

You stopped by the market on the way home and picked up a few things to make dinner and told Tommy and Joel to get cleaned up while you cooked. Joel went first, he needed to try to get his head right before being alone with you. He didn’t know how he was going to handle it, didn’t know what the deal was with you and Andrew, didn’t know what to want from you - what it was OK to want from you. 

He put on the clean clothes and looked in the mirror at himself for a moment. Could you still want him now? Was that even a possibility? Should he just thank you for your help, go to his new apartment with his brother, and try to forget you? He didn’t know. 

You were in the kitchen when he came out. There was a Fleetwood Mac album on and you were unconsciously bobbing your head in time to the music. Tommy gave Joel a look on his way to the bathroom, a look that said ‘don’t fuck this up you absolute idiot.’ Joel just shrugged at him. You glanced behind you. 

“I’m afraid I can’t promise you anything too fancy,” you smiled a little. “But I do have some beer if you want?” 

“Beer is good,” Joel nodded. You nodded back, sucking something off your thumb before going to the fridge. The beer was in large jars and you poured two glasses of it, handing one to Joel and taking a sip of your own before putting a baking dish in the oven. You busied yourself cleaning up the kitchen and Joel took a moment to look around your place. 

“You still have the quilt,” he said, looking down at the bed. 

“Oh,” you glanced at him, giving him a half smile. “Yeah. When I was packing a bag that night, I had some space and I really wanted to keep it if I could… turns out, it survived the trip.” 

You’d had to patch it a few times over the years, some of the small purple flowers much brighter than the others. 

“My mom made it,” you said, rinsing a measuring cup. “When she was pregnant with me. It’s the only thing I have of her, the only sign I have that she thought I might have been worth the trouble at some point, even if it was just for a bit. I didn’t want to leave it behind.” 

He looked at you for a moment. 

“It was her loss, Kid,” he said softly. You just shrugged. He went back to looking around your place, freezing at the photo on your nightstand. 

It was framed - you’d painted it, flowers over the gouges in the wood - and Sarah stared back at him. His heart was pounding. He picked it up slowly, almost in a daze. 

He hadn’t seen her face in years. You’d taken the photo on your hiking trip, just over a year before the outbreak. It was slightly off center. You were the only one looking at the camera. Sarah was looking at you, smiling, and Joel was looking at her. You looked like a family. You’d been a family. It was how it was supposed to be. 

His eyes traced the planes of her face, trying to make sure he remembered everything right. Just where her freckles lay, the way her eyelashes fanned out, the few curls around her temples that were a bit more unruly than the others. 

“Oh, Jesus,” you dropped whatever you’d been cleaning. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that, I should have put that away…” 

“Where’d…” he asked, still looking at the picture. 

“I grabbed a few photos as I was packing,” you said quietly. “I have a few of the three of us, one or two of me and Nan, one of me and Becca… I had a feeling I wouldn’t be back so I wanted to make sure I had them.” 

You were quiet for a moment. 

“You can have that one,” you said. “Or one of the others. All the others, if you want. I’m in them, too, but they have… I’m guessing you don’t…” 

“Didn’t grab anything,” he said, setting the photo back down. “It was too hectic. Was just tryin’ to get the fuck out.” 

“I was only able to take stuff because of you,” you said softly, looking down at the ground for a moment before looking up at him. “I’m only alive because of you.” 

The water turned off in the shower. You went back to cleaning up. 

Dinner was surprisingly good. Joel wasn’t sure how you’d turned mostly canned stuff into something good but you had. It probably helped that he and Tommy had been living on shit or anything they could hunt for a while - wasn’t like they had fucking garlic lying around - but it would have been good regardless. 

Tommy was kind enough to keep the conversation going through dinner, asking you questions that had run through Joel’s mind but he hadn’t been able to make himself say it. Like how you’d come to be known as doc. He had an odd moment of pride, hearing how you’d persevered and done what you’d dreamed of doing in the midst of it all. You said you also taught at the FEDRA school during the day before going and working in the clinic at night. The school was understanding when you got pulled away for emergencies - apparently mass casualty incidents happened in QZs, too - and it sounded like you enjoyed the odd balance you’d been able to strike between educator and medical professional. He didn’t, however, ask about Andrew. 

“Well, Kid, I think you’ve spoiled me enough for one day,” Tommy patted his stomach. You smiled. 

“Happy to have the chance to do it,” you said. 

“I think I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted… go start settling in to the new place,” he got up and clapped Joel on the shoulder. 

“If you need anything, you know where to find me,” you smiled. “Seriously, any time. I want to help. I’m happy to help.” 

“Thanks, Kid,” he smiled before looking at his brother. “Joel.” He gave him a nod and then left. You watched him go for a second before taking a sip of beer. 

“You’ve done well for yourself here,” Joel said after a moment of awkward silence. “Better than just survivin’.” 

“Thanks,” you smiled a little. “Figured if I was stuck living through the end of the world, I should do what I can with it, right?” 

“Suppose so,” he half smiled back. He took another drink of beer. 

“Joel,” you sighed after a moment. “I should apologize for what I said yesterday.” 

He frowned. 

“What d’you mean?” 

“Before I left for the night,” you weren’t looking at him, you were staring down at your empty plate. “When I said I loved you… I shouldn’t have said that and I’m sorry. I understand that it’s been a long time, a lot has happened, we weren’t even together when…” 

“Don’t apologize for that,” he cut you off. Your eyes met his. “I… liked hearin’ it.” 

“I just don’t want you to feel remotely obligated to me,” you said. “Not in any way. You don’t need to even be my friend if you don’t want to. I’ll still help you guys get settled, you can even consider it payment for saving my life when the world came crashing down if that makes it better…” 

“I just don’t want to disrupt your life, Kid,” he said, sitting back in his chair. Fuck, you were pretty. “You’ve got a life here. An actual life. You’ve got a career doing something you love, you’ve got people, you’ve got Andrew… I don’t want to fuck it up for you.” 

“You won’t.” 

“Not sure Andrew agrees with that,” he said, grinding his teeth a bit. He thought of Andrew touching you, the way he held you, kissed your head, they way he must kiss other parts of you… 

“Andrew’s being a jackass,” you waved him off. “He’ll come around.” 

“How long have you two…” he trailed off. You frowned. 

“We met during the outbreak,” you said. “Made it to the QZ together…” 

“Is that when…” 

You looked at him, head cocked, confused. It took you a moment to catch up and you laughed, hard. 

“What?” He asked, his turn to be confused now. 

“No, I’m sorry,” you caught your breath. “I’m sorry, I’m still not used to being around people I’m not already around all the time… No, Andrew is not my boyfriend.” 

Joel must not have looked convinced because you kept going. 

“I forget that it must seem odd for people who don’t know us,” you sank back in your chair, beer in hand. “But we’re much more like siblings than anything else. He was 18 when the outbreak happened, I found him in the woods on his own with a broken arm a few days after I left home. I set his arm and he traveled with us. We kept each other alive, saw each other through the absolute worst of it. I’d be dead on the side of the road somewhere in New York State if it wasn’t for him and he’d probably be infected if it weren’t for me. But by the time we got to Boston, we’d gotten so used to needing each other to survive, one of us couldn’t really function without the other. Took a few months before we could sleep apart. We got separate places when the QZ was really getting set up because we realized how we were living probably wasn’t healthy, but we kept doing it, anyway. But no, not the least bit romantic. Or physical. At least, not in that way. We still sleep in the same bed when one of us is overwhelmed or just has a hard day, it’s the only way we can really function. I stayed with him last night, actually. It’s the only reason I slept at all. He’s just… who I have. And I’m who he has. We get each other. We need each other. It’s a bit codependent but…” 

Joel nodded slowly. He got it, in a way. He and Tommy had barely spent 10 minutes apart over the last five years. He had no idea how he’d handle being apart for a day. Even here, he’d be worried about him. Thinking he needed to keep him alive, at least for a while. 

“So do you have… anyone else?” He asked. 

“Are you asking if I have a boyfriend?” Your eyebrows were raised. He just nodded once. You have him a small half smile. 

“No,” you said. “No boyfriends. Been hung up on this ex of mine for a while. Doesn’t make for a great dating life…” 

“Sounds like a fuckin’ fool for letting you go,” he replied.

You shrugged. 

“Well the end of the world kind of happened in there,” you said. “Think he gets a pass.”

He watched you across the table, your hair loose around your face, lips full. It’s not that he hadn’t been with other women since you. He had. If there was someone willing and he had the urge, he wasn’t about to say no. Getting lost in someone else for a bit was one of the few things that made existence worth it anymore. But it had been years since it had been anything but a fleeting escape. It had been since you. 

“Can I get you another beer?” You nodded to his nearly empty glass. He just gave you a nod and you refilled both glasses, moving to your small couch. The Fleetwood Mac album had started over. You gave Joel his glass but walked past him and sat on your couch, one leg crossed over the other. 

“Why do I feel like you’re trying to get me on your couch?” He asked, his eyes roaming over you. You shrugged.

“No one’s making you do a damn thing, Miller.”

He moved to the couch. You are stayed on your side of it, sipping your beer, seemingly happy to just have him close. He reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear, exposing your neck. There were white scars down the side of your throat to your shoulder. He frowned, tracing them. 

“What happened here?” He asked quietly. You set your beer on the small table in front of the couch and glanced at him. 

“That happened a few minutes after the last time we spoke,” you fidgeted with the seam on your jeans. “Nan had turned, pinned me down in my room as I finished getting packed. I’d already grabbed the shotgun thankfully, I had to shoot her to get away.” 

“Oh Baby,” he said softly, pulling you against his chest. You melted into him. “I’m so sorry.” 

You shrugged but pressed yourself closer to him. He enveloped you. You fit against him the same way you always had, like you belonged there. As though he’d been designed to hold you, protect you. But he’d failed at that. You looked up at him. 

“I’m sure we both did a lot of things we aren’t happy with or proud of to get here,” you said quietly. “I wouldn’t have been able to shoot her if not for you. If you’d never called that night, I’d never have gotten the gun. I wouldn’t have known what was happening. I wouldn’t have been able to bring myself to hurt her if I hadn’t been trying to get to you. But you got me here. I’m alive because of you and Andrew. I don’t care what you did to get here, Joel. Only that you got here.” 

He kissed you then, your lips soft and sweet on his. You stretched into his kiss and his tongue dipped into your mouth as he held your body close to his own. His grip grew firmer and your body shifted to align with his, him laying you beneath him, covering you with him. He pulled away from you slightly, searching your eyes. 

“You’ll tell me if I do anything you don’t want,” he said, already breathless. You nodded but bit your lip. “What is it? I can stop, I can go…” 

“No!” You said quickly, eyes going wide. “No, please don’t, I’m just… out of practice. It’s been… a while.” 

He frowned. 

“How long?” 

You blushed a bit.

“Since 2003?” You said it like a question more than an answer. He tried to hide his surprise and brushed your hair back. 

“I’d like to change that,” he said softly. “If you’ll let me.” 

You nodded quickly and his mouth was back against yours. 

He had to fight to go slow with you. It had been so long since he’d been with someone he cared about, so long since he’d wanted someone like he wanted you. But he traced the contours of your body, getting to know you again, what parts of you made you melt into him, what parts made you freeze for a moment. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what caused those moments. He kissed you softly, deeply. It was like coming home, like the world hadn’t ended, like he hadn’t been stupid enough to leave you to begin with. He was right where he was always supposed to be. 

You pulled at his shirt and he took it off. Your fingers ran over his chest, tracing the new scars he’d collected over his years dodging infected and humans alike. You kissed each one gently, your lips staying against each spot on his skin for a moment. 

His fingers found the hem of your shirt. 

“Can I?” He asked. You just nodded. He pulled it up and away, tossing it somewhere near his. You had scars, too. One on your shoulder looked particularly bad. He kissed it before tracing it with his thumb. 

“Bullet graze,” you said softly, sadly. “On my birthday in 03.” 

He kissed it again, his mouth moving down over your shoulder to your breasts, tracing your cleavage with his lips. He reached around behind you, your back arching into him, and he unhooked your bra before gently sliding it off. His memory hadn’t done you justice, you were so much more beautiful than his mind seemed capable of containing. He touched you softly, relearning how your breasts filled his hands, the way your nipples peaked against him. He took one into his mouth, sucking you, holding you as you moaned and ground your hips against his torso. He smiled as he trailed kisses over your chest to your other nipple, sucking you there, too. 

His hands traced over your body, down to your pants. He opened them, kissing back up your chest to your mouth before looking in your eyes. You just nodded and he pulled your jeans and panties down your legs, lifting from you just enough to leave the last of your clothes on the floor. 

He went back to his place between your legs, kissing down your stomach until he reached your slit. Your breath caught and he pressed his lips to your clit, his tongue slipping between to gently tease you until he felt you take a shaky breath against him. 

Joel dipped his tongue into you, tasting you, opening you to him. You moaned, hips working against his face and he smiled against you. He’d forgotten just how damn good it felt to give you pleasure, to make you lose yourself to him. 

He slipped a finger inside you as he sucked your clit, curving it into the place he still knew made you melt and he felt you tighten around him. 

“Joel,” you whimpered and fuck he’d forgotten how good his name sounded on your tongue when you were about to cum. He added a finger, sucked you harder, worked you until he felt you flutter around his fingers, a choking moan slipping from you. 

He’d also forgotten what it was like to be desperate for someone. To want to be inside you so badly he’d shed his skin just for the chance to be inside yours. He was breathless with it, it felt like he’d die for wanting you if he couldn’t have you. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this hard, the last time his whole body ached with need.

You were still coming down from your orgasm when he took off his pants and underwear, leaving them on your floor. Your body was pliant as you panted for breath below him. He ran his fingers over your slit, slick and wanting, collecting your wetness and coating himself in you. He notched his head at your entrance and you moaned, reaching for him. 

“Joel,” you keened. “Please, I need…” 

“I know Baby,” he said softly, sinking into you as you gasped. He could only gain a few inches, you were almost impossibly tight around him. You moaned, rocking your hips against him and he almost collapsed against you. “Just let me inside you Baby, just relax and let me inside you…” 

You whimpered, all but incoherent, and he took you by the hips, holding your in place as he worked his way deeper into you, opening your body to him until he was fully inside you. 

This he hadn’t forgotten. He’d sometimes lived in the memory of just how you felt around him, how you felt like two halves of the same whole, how it seemed like you’d been made for him. It was the only justification he could find for anything feeling quite as good, quite as right, as being inside you. His head fell to your chest and he panted for breath, desperate to move but desperate to never pull back from you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you were gasping, your fingers in his hair. “God, I missed you. I missed you so much, I love…” 

He cut you off with a kiss, pulling himself back from you just enough to thrust forward again, pushing all the way inside you with every stroke, needing to be fully inside you as much as he could. 

“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered and you rushed to obey. He picked you up - buried deep inside you - and moved you to your bed. His movements became harder, more insistent, your body tightening around him with every stroke. 

“Joel,” you moaned. He wasn’t sure you were even fully aware of what you were saying, your fingers digging into his back, your pussy tightening around him. “Please, need to feel you…” 

He kissed you again, pressing into you harder, moving faster until he felt you start to come undone around him and he emptied himself into you, gasping for breath and all but collapsing on top of you. He held himself inside you, both unwilling and unable to move, you feeling too good to ever want to leave. You held him as your breathing eased, your body lax beneath his. 

For the first time in more than five years, it felt like he was home. 

A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this posted! I've been on vacation this week trying really hard to pay attention to my husband and NOT fictional men. This chapter written in part in a poolside cabana on my cell phone this afternoon :)

Now y'all. This chapter has a happy ending and I need you to know... it's not the HEA yet. THERE'S SO MUCH MORE DRAMA COMING GUYS. So much more for them to work through and so much more to have happen - we haven't even met Tess or Ellie yet. But we gotta have little pops of happy in here, right?

As always, thanks so much for reading, reflagging and commenting, I love you all!