#maybe worlds being in boston this year

[tsarinajissa]

Actually surprised there are so many seats left open for the men's short. At the challenger event I watched he skated (lombardia?) there were people sitting on stairs it was so crowded.

I guess us in north america have been spoiled with opportunities to see Ilia Malinin skate compared to the europeans and that probably makes for the difference

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Failing

Summary: Joel made many mistakes. The biggest was leaving you.

Pairing: past Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.3k

Rating: G

Warnings: angst, a lot of inner thoughts, panic attacks, Joel and Ellie do not talk, Joel is a mess, lots of talk about being a failure and not good enough, messy breakup, unplanned pregnancy

A/N: This has been going through my mind since I saw the new pic yesterday. This is really different from everything I write usually, so let me know what you think. And yeah, come yell at me in my inbox

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part one of invisible string

He knew he should have stayed home tonight.

He could have worked on… something. He could have talked himself into picking up his guitar and pretend everything was okay.

He could pretend that he wasn’t a failure.

He could pretend Ellie was still talking to him.

Instead he was here, the people around him celebrating god knows what, music playing, people dancing and he?

He was hoping to at least get a look at the girl that had become like a daughter to him. The daughter he lost because he lied to her.

Turned out his mother was right, lying was not getting him anywhere. 

He hadn’t talked to her in weeks, not getting more than a fleeting look at her from afar like a creepy stalker.

Tommy was right, he needed to give her time.

But somehow he felt like time was running out. 

Tommy had been right in a lot of things lately. Something Joel was not used to, still having the irresponsible young man in the back of his mind he had been before outbreak.

But Tommy wasn’t that man anymore.

He was a husband, a father, a respected leader of the little community he had helped build.

And Joel was…. He did not feel like he changed much. He was still angry all the time.

Angry at the world.

Angry at the people.

But most of all angry at himself.

The way he was feeling now? Alone and lonely?

He had no one but himself to blame for it.

It was moments like these that you came to his mind.

You would know what to do. You would know how to fix this mess that he got himself into. You always did. Until he had pushed you away for good, almost six years ago when he got even more involved in the underground in the Boston QZ.

Meeting and falling in love with you had been the only good thing that had happened to him since the outbreak. You had seen him, the real him.

The broken man that was desperate for… something.

That something seemed to be you.

But like every good that happened to him, he managed to fuck this up too. Not at first, but definitely in the end. 

And he tried. He tried to become a better person. Tried to become the man you deserved, not listening to you when you told him that he did not have to become a better person.

That you fell for him the way he was. With all flaws he thought he had.

But maybe if he had worked on himself he wouldn’t have reacted so poorly when you told him that you were pregnant.

Maybe he wouldn’t have blamed you and you only, taking the easy way out and telling you he would not go through this again.

He should have talked to you, instead of lashing out, should have told you how fucking scared he was about losing another child. About losing you. About raising a child in this fucked up world. About fucking up.

He did so anyway.

He chose to forget about the whole conversation the two of you had after you told him that you were pregnant and that you were intending to keep it from his mind. Or he tried. God, did he try.

But now, deep in the night, when he was laying awake and alone in bed, only the shadows of the night in his company, the words he spat to hurt you creeped back into his mind, not that they had ever been gone.

I don’t love you.

Get rid of it.

Get out of my life.

I never loved you anyway. 

He could still see the way your face crumbled, tears running down your cheeks. 

He broke you that night. And he broke himself. 

He thought about this last argument, this breakup a lot if he was honest with himself.

He never told you, not in words, how much he loved you. He took you for granted. He shouldn’t have been this surprised to learn that you had left the QZ days after he broke you. 

Not a day went by that he wondered what happened to you.

If you were alive.

If you kept the baby.

Would it have your eyes and his hair?

A boy or a girl?

Where they as stubborn as Sarah was?

Did you still love him as much as he still loved you?

Shaking his head he took a sip from the surprisingly good beer someone had offered him when he came here, his eyes wandering through the room, sneaking glances at Ellie who smiled at Dina, deep in conversation with the other girl.

Sucking his bottom lip in, his hand flexing on his side as he tried to find the courage to walk over to Ellie and ask her if they could talk, again, when he heard laughter behind him.

Laughter he heard before, a long time ago.

A laugh he heard in his dreams when his mind allowed him to dream about you instead of the nightmares that plagued him. 

Narrowing his eyes he tried to remember why he was hearing that laugh, why that voice that spoke in low tones now, made his heart flutter, when he saw Tommy walk towards him in a fast pace, his face worried.

“Joel,” he said but Joel wasn’t listening to him.

He was busy preparing for a breakdown that was creeping slowly into his body. 

Joel’s heart seemed to make the connection before his brain did, heart beating widely in his chest as he slowly turned around, his brother’s hand on his shoulder to keep him for turning. He shrugged it off with a grunt, bracing himself to be let down, that he was finally turning insane and imagining you when his eyes landed on you.

Blinking his eyes in disbelief he released a shaky breath when you were still there. 

You were sitting at one of the picnic tables, still as beautiful as he remembered a small smile on your face. A man had his arm wrapped around your back and in your lap sat a girl not older than five who had your eyes and his brown curls.

His heart stopped, he was sure of it.

“She got in yesterday. You were on patrol, I was trying to find you and tell you but….” Joel heard his brother say, but he ignored him.

You were here.

You were here.

And you were alive.

And you had a girl sitting in your lap that was….

His eyes widened when you leaned back and he saw a little boy sitting in the lap of the man next to you that looked like a mini copy of Joel himself.

His chest felt heavy.

Closing his eyes he tried to take deep breaths, but he just couldn’t.

This was too much.

This hurt too much.

This was the happiest he ever was.

“Joel?” he heard his name from his side, Ellie looking down at him worriedly as he pressed his hand against his chest, his eyes watering.

This was the first time she had talked to him in weeks and it might as well be the last time from the way he felt right now.

He was having a panic attack.

But it felt so much worse than it had ever before.

Looking away from Ellie he turned his head back towards you, finding you now looking at him with wide eyes.

“Deep breaths brother,” a strong arm came to pull him up and his frantic eyes found Tommy’s.

“In and out,” he said, trying to calm down his brother. Joel’s hands grabbed his brothers shoulders. Trying to mimic the way he was breathing but couldn’t.

“Joel?” he heard your voice, his head now turning towards you, finding you looking at him worriedly.

Joel shook his head, dark spots at the corner of his eyes.

“You’re here,” was the last thing he whispered before he passed out.

[copperbadge]

I wanted to thank you for running RFM for so long.

And as we wind down to the end of the year (and the era), I want to ask if there's anything the Tumblr community could do to thank you for the effort you've put into this over the years.

Is there a charity or cause that you support that we could contribute to or other action we could take?

Aw, thank you for asking!

If you want a specific place to give, there are a couple of nonprofits I support. The Anti-Cruelty Society where I got the cryptids is local to Chicago and BAGLY is a queer youth nonprofit local to Boston; you can also give to United Way either locally or nationally, to Planned Parenthood, or to the American Library Association, currently fighting the good fight against censorship. I know people working for all of these orgs and your support means a lot to them. You can also give to my Ko-Fi marked "for donation" and I will give in a lump sum to the org I work for, which funds research into terminal lung disease and outreach to patients suffering from it.

But honestly, I hope the most long-lasting legacy of RFM is that people think consciously about caring for one another and about being kind and compassionate even if you feel judgement for the person asking. Over the years I found myself judging people sometimes when they asked for help, and I had to make a policy that I would not only share their link but publicly defend their right to ask, if necessary, because I am not infallible and nobody else is either. It is not for us to determine who can ask, only who we answer.

I've been on a campaign for about a decade to persuade people that while some nonprofits are indeed not great places to give your money, you should approach giving in the spirit of trust. When we buy something -- say, a box of pasta -- we trust that what the box says is inside actually is inside. When we buy a wool sweater we trust it truly is wool unless we have reason to believe otherwise. We look at the box or the label, we do our due diligence, but we don't automatically assume we are being lied to. If you give to a nonprofit, by all means, read the website, maybe do a quick google about them, but trust that most people who work in this field, which is underpaid and full of burnout, are doing their best to help the world. Find a nonprofit you really like the look of and treat it like starting a new friendship -- get to know them, read about what they do, if they have events, especially free events, maybe go to one and have a look around.

But yeah -- that's what I hope lasts, the idea that giving is an act of community and that the spirit in which you give matters, not whether or not you did the most good in the most moral way.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻 | joel miller x reader x emmett

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | the last thing you wanted to do was make emmett jealous, or question your loyalty to him; but as it turns out, he may be a little more supportive than you expected when he catches you looking at joel miller.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 7.1k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut - 18+ only (threesome, established relationship, sharing/hotwife kink, daddy kink, oral m and f receiving, anal and DP, creampie, light choking, overstimulation/multiple orgasms, some very gentle/mild degradation, tons and tons of praise), implied age gap (not specified, obviously reader is an adult), takes place in the last of us universe but pretty much porn without plot lol so don't overthink it

In the last year of traveling with Emmett, you’d mostly avoided the QZs.  He said that the people there were cheats and liars at best— and that’s to say nothing of the corrupt military leaders that actually ran the place.  However, desperation puts people into positions they never expected to be. 

After all, you would’ve never imagined being with a man like him, though in this case you meant it in a good way— that you never thought someone as brave and resourceful as him would want somebody like you.

But, that said, you made yourself useful when you could.  The best thing you could offer was your medical knowledge, and you were always the one tending to Emmett after injuries or illness.  Still, he promised that he loved you for who you were, not what you could do for him.  He was shockingly gentle, and passionate, especially for someone who had been forced to be rather ruthless to survive in this new world.

So, while you had been avoiding the quarantined areas and sticking to abandoned strips of forest and city, a lack of food out there forced you to venture to Boston— or, what was left of it.

Fortunately, you'd found more hospitality here than you expected.  Maybe it was just pity— and wanting some more of that ammo Emmett had sold him— but a man named Joel Miller had given you a place to stay and helped you earn some rations here so you could finally eat.  He reminded you of Emmett in some ways: stoic, hardworking, and generous beneath that hardened exterior.  But Emmett had become much more sensitive and open with you in your time together, and Joel was all but a stranger.  Sometimes he was so stern that he almost seemed irritated with you, but he kept letting you and Emmett stay, so he must not have been too annoyed by you.

And, you helped him how you could— like when he was in yours and Emmett’s room, sitting in the chair and talking to Emmett about something to do with tomorrow’s open jobs, and you noticed a cut across his palm.

“I-I can help with that,” you offered softly, motioning to the injury.  “Do you want me to bandage it for you?”

“It’s not that bad,” Joel shook his head.

“It’s easier to clean it now than worry about an infection later,” you reminded him.

Though he seemed a little tense, glancing at Emmett for a moment, he relented with a nod.  You smiled lightly as you stepped forward and knelt by Joel’s feet, picking up his hand and examining the cut.

Once you figured what it needed, you quickly hopped up to rifle through your bag, bringing back a disinfectant wipe and a roll of gauze.  Holding his hand open— and feeling a little flustered from touching his warm, rough skin— you carefully wiped up the cut.  “Does it hurt at all?” you asked him.

“Not too bad,” he replied lowly.

“You should see Emmett when I’ve gotta wrap him up,” you giggled, “he always acts like what I’m doing hurts more than when he actually got the injury in the first place.”

“Hey,” Emmett warned you in a stern voice, but you smiled up at Joel who returned with a small smirk.

“Alright, all better,” you hummed as you finished bandaging Joel.  “Let me know if it’s hurting you too much, that’s a bad sign.  Don’t just ignore it and act tough, okay?”

Joel seemed a little uncomfortable— if not sort of amused by— taking orders from you, but he nodded.  “I’ll let y’all get to bed now,” he decided as he stood up.  “Sleep well.  Lot of work to be done in the morning.”

“G’night,” Emmett offered him with a nod.

You felt a little strange, him standing up fully while you were still on your knees on the floor.  “Goodnight, Joel,” you said, your voice sounding sweeter and girlier than you intended.  Your face felt warm— you worried Emmett had noticed the change in your voice, too, but would he think much of it if he had?  

Thankfully, he didn’t say anything about it that night, simply pulling you close when you got into bed, burying his face in your neck.

But the next night, that was a different story.  You weren’t actually going to sleep yet, even though it was late enough for it— he’d already changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants, while you were still in your dress, but he’d laid back on top of the sheets and patted the bed, silently asking you to join him.  You smiled and obeyed, of course, leaving the lamp on as you slipped in by his side.

Emmett held you gently, rubbing your back as you laid your head on his chest.  “You’re not too tired, are you?” he asked quietly.

For what? you wondered, but just shook your head instead.

“We can stay up a little longer,” he decided.  “Didn’t get a chance to hold you all day.”

“Yeah,” you sighed wistfully, nuzzling in more as you squeezed his torso a bit.

“Or talk to you much,” he continued.

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” you asked, looking up at him from your head’s happy place on his shoulder.

“Just something I noticed,” Emmett replied, looking back at you sweetly as he brushed your hair aside with his fingers.  "I think you've got a crush on Joel."

You froze, face getting warm in an instant.  "I-I only want you, Emmett, I swear— you know I would never—"

"Shh, shh," he soothed as he chuckled a little, "it's okay, baby.  I'm not angry with you… you're not doin' anything wrong."

"Really?" you asked nervously, and he nodded.  "I thought you might be jealous…"

He shook his head and laughed a little.

"I-I just think he's handsome," you explained, "and sort of nice— but that's really it!"

"It's alright, baby," he purred, "cause you know something?  I was talking to him earlier today, and he wants you too."

Your sat up and your eyes went wide as you tried to imagine that conversation.  You could hardly believe that that was true, let alone that Joel has admitted it to Emmett… or had Joel approached Emmett about it, asking for a night with you?  Oh god, your head already hurt trying to wrap itself around this…

"I know how hard it is to keep a naughty little thing like you satisfied," Emmett explained with a smirk, sitting up with you and speaking softly beside your ear.  “I'm willing to bring in a little… outside help."

Just then, the door opened slowly and Joel stepped inside.  You watched him, totally unsure how to feel, as he shut the door behind himself, and then his eyes met yours.

"C'mere," Emmett offered to Joel, patting the bed beside you two.  "No need to be shy, Miller."

You watched as Joel took a seat on the bed, and you looked at Emmett as you lowered your voice.  "You don't have to do this for me," you promised him softly.  "You know I love you— I only need you—"

"It's okay," he soothed as he pet your face.  "I told you, I'm not angry.  I want you to do this."

"You… want me to?"

"If you want it," Emmett replied.

You shivered as Joel leaned forward a bit, reaching out to gently rub up and down your leg.  "What do you think, princess?" he asked softly.  "Don't worry, you're not gonna hurt my feelings if you say you don't wanna—"

"I want to," you admitted quickly, afraid to lose your courage if you waited any longer to say it.

Both men smiled at you as you looked back and forth between them; Joel's warm brown eyes against Emmett's steely blue ones… they were so similar, and so opposite, in so many impossible ways.

Without saying anything, Joel suddenly lifted your chin and guided you into a kiss.

You felt strange kissing someone other than Emmett, something you hadn't done in quite some time.  Joel's lips weren't as soft as Emmett's, and his kiss wasn't as gentle; he moved his hand to the back of your neck to hold you close, gently pressing his tongue into your mouth.  It wasn't too aggressive or anything, but it was certainly quite forward.  Emmett's hands were still on you, gently rubbing your back, and you reached back to find and hold one just as your other arm wrapped around Joel's broad shoulders.

Joel made you gasp by breaking away to kiss at your neck instead; you squeezed Emmett's hand slightly.  "Fuck, she sounds so pretty," Joel noticed when you moaned at his teeth teasing your pulse.

"Yeah," Emmett agreed.  "She can get loud, too, so let's just hope she doesn't wake anybody up…"

Joel pulled your hand away from Emmett's and guided it to the bulge in his jeans; you sighed as you felt it, a hot feeling stirring in your chest.  "See how you got me all worked up already?" he scolded you playfully.  "C'mon and take it out for me."

Your hands were shaking more than you realized when you brought them to unfasten his belt… it felt new, and exhilarating, and a little scary as well, to be with someone new after so long.  But you remembered when it was new with Emmett and it felt like this, exciting and weird and wonderful all at the same time.  But you'd known Emmett longer before anything happened between you— you'd only met Joel a few days ago.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose when you reached into his boxers and wrapped your fingers around his erection.  It was so hot to the touch, you were worried your fingers felt cold to him, but he didn't seem to mind much.  You shuddered as you released it from the fabric, your mouth falling slack and your hand instinctively beginning to stroke it gently.

Joel's cock wasn't as long as Emmett's, but it was thicker, with a slight curve to one side.  Regardless of exactly what it looked like, you were just amazed to see and stroke another cock but Emmett's— it had been so long, and you hadn't been with all too many people before Emmett anyways.

"Show him what you can do, baby," Emmett encouraged in a low voice, and you nodded as you leaned down to capture Joel's cock between your lips. 

He hummed as you licked and sucked the tip, swirling your tongue over the head.  But he groaned aloud when you dipped lower and took as much as you could into your mouth, letting the tip of his cock bump into the back of your throat.

Then you set your pace, hollowing your cheeks and slowly moving up and down on his length.  Your jaw ached slightly already and you'd only just started.

You felt Joel's hand on the back of your head, not pushing you down but just guiding you in your movements.

"Mm," Joel praised with a grunt.  "Your girl's got a sweet fuckin' mouth, Emmett…"

"Yeah," he agreed, "and she loves using it— gets her so wet, feel it."

You whimpered slightly as Joel reached back over you and pulled up your dress, slipping a hand inside your panties.  His fingers curled through your lips, even toying with your swollen clit for a moment, and you moaned around the thick cock in your mouth.

"Damn," Joel chuckled, "she's soaked."

You broke away from Joel and turned around, looking at Emmett expectantly as you sat on the bed.  "Can I suck you too?  Please?"

Joel chuckled a little as Emmett nodded, letting you pull his pajama pants down as his hard cock bounced free.  It was nice to get back to what you knew for a moment, and you didn't hesitate at all to take hold of him and lick a long stripe up his shaft.

Joel took the opportunity while you were facing away from him to toss up your dress and pull your panties down; he purred at the way the fabric stuck to your pussy, peeling off slowly with all the wetness there.  "Fuckin' gorgeous," Joel groaned as he got a good look at it.  

Two thick fingers rubbed over your clit until your toes curled; putting your head down in Emmett's lap to suck him sort of forced your hips up, nearly at eye-level with Joel, and feeling him explore you so gently made you feel exposed in the best way.

He slid one finger into your hole, just one, and you clenched down on him.  "Damn," Joel groaned.  "I don't know how you find the energy to do anything but fill this pretty little pussy of hers, Emmett."

But Emmett wasn't really paying attention to him— he was watching you with heavy eyes and a slack mouth, petting your hair as you bobbed your head on his cock.

"Just like that," Emmett praised you quietly.  When you moaned around him in response, it turned into a muffled cry as Joel suddenly took his finger out of you and replaced it with his tongue.  His hands held your ass and kept you spread wide for him, burying his face in your pussy and tasting everything his tongue could reach… which was a lot.  Your whole body quivered when he licked a long stripe up from the base of your clit all the way up, higher and higher, even running over that hole as you shuddered.  

Your moans vibrated through Emmett's cock and his hand in your hair tightened into a fist and tugged on you a bit.  "Fuck," Joel moaned against your soaking folds, "tastes even better than it looks."

"Feels even better than it tastes," Emmett promised with a smile, though he snarled as he pulled your head off of him by your hair and guided you into a rough, dominating kiss.  He all but threw you back towards Joel, and you were sort of dazed and moving on instinct as Joel turned you around to face him.

But as you leaned down to suck Joel's cock again, he stopped you with a hand around your neck.  "Taste yourself first," he ordered before he kissed you, diving his tongue right into your open mouth as you whined at the tangy flavor of your arousal coating his lips.  

He pulled you back from the kiss with a growl, holding your hair and examining your face— you must have looked fucked out already, panting through your mouth and looking at him as you waited for your next instruction.

“Was she always this desperate?” Joel asked Emmett, though he was still looking at you. “Or did you train her?”

“A little of column A, a little of column B,” Emmett replied with a light chuckle.

He shoved your head back down into his lap, guiding his cock to your waiting lips and groaning when you swallowed it down.  “Good fucking girl,” he praised.  “So fuckin’ dirty— damn, that tongue…”

You gagged harder on Joel’s cock when you felt Emmett toying with your clit, teasing you with slow and delicate circles that made your toes curl.  “Wanna fuck her?” Emmett asked Joel simply; your hole pulsed in anticipation.  The way they talked over you, like you weren’t even there, was sort of irritating: but it made you so desperate, and you couldn’t even figure out why.

Joel just laughed.  “Are you kidding?” he wondered.

It was Emmett’s hand that pulled you off of Joel’s cock, but Joel grabbed your neck— not too tightly, just enough to make you let a whimper out of your open mouth— and flared his nostrils as he stared closely at your face.

“Get on your hands and knees for me,” he ordered firmly, and you nodded right away.  They both let you go and you took the position, feeling a little shy again suddenly— like you had any right to be shy now.  You faced Emmett, your hands on either side of his lap as he sat up on the bed, and he reached up to hold your face as you heard Joel get up and kneel behind you.

He teased you by running the head through your folds a few times, your lip catching between your teeth as the tip bumped against your swollen clit.  Emmett studied your face closely, watching your mouth go slack and your brows knit together as Joel pushed just barely inside you.

And then you cried out, far too loud, because he shoved the rest of the way in at once.  "Shit," Joel hissed, "fuckin' tight little thing.  Fuck."

You could feel his gaze on your hole, no doubt watching himself split you open so wide, when his hands spread your ass open again for a better view.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy,” Joel awarded it with a sigh.  “Fuck, feel how good you fuckin’ take that?  Feel how easy this big cock slides right into ya?  Such a sweet little girl…”

Easy was one way to describe it— and yes, you were wet enough that he hardly had any resistance— but it felt like too much to really be easy.  You fluttered your eyes open, not even noticing that you’d shut them, and found Emmett’s gaze still on you.  How was it possible that he was looking at you with so much pride in his eyes?  You bit your lip and returned his stare, whimpering each time Joel thrusted roughly into you.  

"How's it feel, baby?" Emmett asked you as he gently stroked your cheek.

You choked a little, not sure you could find the words for it.  "Different," you managed to blurt out, and both men chuckled a little.

"Yeah, bet it is different," Joel agreed, "don't think I'm gonna be as sweet with'ya as your old man here usually is."

Well, fair enough: Joel wasn't in love with you, so why should he treat you the same?  Actually, your thighs shook a little as you thought about that… Joel just wanted to use you, fuck you like a toy and toss you back to Emmett when he was done.  It should've been demeaning, but it made your back arch a little deeper.

"Yeah, fuck," Joel praised, "she likes that.  Wants me to fuck her harder, I can tell."

“Then do it,” Emmett instructed him.

Joel gripped your hips tightly and slammed into you, making you choke on your own cry.  “F-fuck—” you stammered, suddenly gripping Emmett’s shoulders for stability.

“God,” Joel choked behind you; you could feel the bandage you’d given him as his hands held onto your hips, keeping you steady so he could pump into you as hard and fast as he liked.

You whined and dropped your head on Emmett’s shoulder, hearing him gently soothe you as each thrust rocked you forward into him.  “Takin’ it so well,” he praised softly, “that’s my girl…”

Emmett started to push your dress down your arms and chest, exposing your tits for his big hands to rub slowly; Joel reached around and felt them too— and four hands on you felt like more than you could keep track of.  A hand running up your thighs, squeezing your ass, teasing your tits, even wrapping around your throat and threatening to tighten… you were overwhelmed, in the best way.

"God, she's so perfect," Joel breathed.  "Can't believe you let me borrow her."

"Just don't come inside her," Emmett instructed, "that's just for me."

"Fuck, I don't mind," Joel grunted, "think I'll like painting that pretty face…"

“She swallows, too,” Emmett smiled, “if you like that.”

“Like it?  Fuck,” Joel laughed, “that’s fucking hot.”

“E-Emmett,” you whimpered in protest, “I never… I’ve never done that for anybody but you…”

“Well, it’s not so different for anybody else,” Emmett assured you with a chuckle.  “You’ll swallow his come if I tell you to, won’tcha?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Good girl.”

That was all you really wanted— to be good for him.  And you felt your chest fill with pride knowing he was happy with you now, even if you’d never expected this to make him happy.  He could be very protective of you, and you assumed he would never want another man to lay a hand on you— he’d killed men for less, actually.  But you realized that there was a massive difference: those men had threatened to hurt you, had scared you, had tried to take you from him.  Joel was the first man other than Emmett that you’d trusted, let alone shown any interest in.  Emmett was too busy fighting off creeps to mention that he didn’t actually mind good guys getting a chance with you, apparently.

Joel kneaded a handful of your ass roughly, and you whimpered when you felt one of his fingertips start to rub gently against your other hole.  “What about this hole?” he asked with a groan.  “This just for you, too?”

Emmett grinned a bit.  “She’s only done that a few times… what do you think, baby, wanna let Joel try your ass?”

It was already quite an ordeal to get Emmett to fit in there, and you whined just imagining Joel trying to fit that thick cock in your ass— “Oh my god, she just got so fucking wet,” Joel noticed.  Clearly, imagining it was having some effect on you.  “Think she wants it— don’t ya, sweet girl?”

Though your cheeks burned with shame, you nodded, and both men chuckled darkly.  “Warm her up first,” Emmett suggested.

“Of course,” Joel agreed, “wouldn’t wanna break your toy.”

You moaned just from him saying that, before he’d even started to gently press his finger inside you.  He spit right down onto it as he slid the digit inside, making you clench around him— both ways.  He hummed lowly, twisting and curling the finger into you, still fucking your pussy (though slower than before, thank god).

You gasped as a second finger carefully slid in, almost pushing you too far and making you wince slightly— but Emmett soothed you and kissed the side of your face, rubbing your back to help keep you relaxed.  “You can take it,” Emmett promised, “be my good girl, okay?  Let him get you ready.”

You nodded and clung tighter to Emmett, moaning when Joel twisted his fingers around and even curled them a bit inside you.  “Not too much, is it?” Joel wondered when you whined loudly.

“No, she’s tougher than she looks,” Emmett answered— you sort of thought that question was for you, but you were too desperate to answer properly anyways.

Joel could pump those fingers in and out of you now, picking up the pace slightly to match the way he thrust his cock into your cunt, but when he tried to spread them a little wider he didn’t have much luck.  “Still too tight, I think,” Joel noticed with a laugh.  “Y’sure she can get stretched out enough for it?”

“Yeah,” Emmett promised, “I can help, hold on—”

He brought two fingers to your open mouth; you sucked on them instinctively, shutting your eyes and moving your head forward to swallow them as deep as you could.  What Joel said before suddenly made sense— he really did have you trained.

You bobbed and suckled on Emmett’s long fingers, hearing him whisper his praises to you before he suddenly pulled them out— your open mouth chased after them for a second, and Joel seemed to notice with a small, condescending laugh— and reached over your back, pushing the slick fingers into your hole right beside Joel’s.

“Fuck!” you yelped at the feeling, legs shaking as you realized you’d never been this full: a cock and four fingers, it was more than you’d ever imagined.

Joel groaned a little, picking up the pace of his thrusts into your pussy again, and you did your best to breathe steady as those fingers pumped in and out of you.  You couldn’t deny the way it turned you on— none of you could, you could hear it as Joel fucked you slowly.  “She’s fuckin’ dripping, Emmett,” Joel noticed with a sigh, “she really likes this little ass played with, huh?”

Emmett laughed and nodded in agreement.  “She likes doing what she’s told,” he clarified.

“Such a good little slut,” Joel praised, and you whimpered before Emmett kissed you again.

They continued that way until you worried you’d start begging for a cock in your ass if they made you wait anymore— thankfully, they didn’t make you embarrass yourself like that, Emmett felt with his fingers and saw in your eyes that you were ready.  Pulling his fingers out of you, he glanced at Joel behind you: “Go ahead,” he offered simply.

Joel’s fingers left your ass, too, and you felt empty there but different— when his cock slipped from your cunt, you gasped a little at having nothing inside you for the first time in a while, and you glanced back at him.  “Yeah,” Joel encouraged, “keep lookin’ back at me while I put my cock in your ass.”

You felt a little awkward doing that, but you did it anyways, biting your lip as he met your gaze and lined up his thick head with your stretched ass.  He was still soaked from being in your pussy, and your ass was pretty much dripping with spit now, so he didn’t have too much trouble pushing into your puckered hole— but it was still tight, and you still winced (but kept your eyes on him, of course).

Even with all that prep, you shuddered and whined as Joel slowly slid into your ass— he savored every inch, licking his lips and groaning as he stretched you wider and wider.  He seemed to just get thicker, even at the very base of him, and your eyes rolled back when he was seated in you all the way.  And then he punched his hips just that little bit more, apparently intent on burying himself in you as far as humanly possible; you gasped and hugged Emmett tighter, turning your head towards him again but shutting your eyes tight from the sting of the stretch.  

“God fucking damn,” Joel moaned, digging his fingers into the skin of your hips, clearly trying to control himself.  “Fuck, Emmett, you’ve really got yourself such a perfect little fucktoy— where’d you find her?”

Emmett smiled wide, stroking your hair and looking at your face— painted with filthy pleasure— tenderly.  “She found me,” he answered.  “Still got no fuckin’ idea how I got so lucky.”

Joel started to move, making you tighten your hands into weak fists, and set a careful pace that gave you some time to adjust… even if not quite as much as you would’ve wanted.

A sudden, sharp thrust nearly knocked you forward— thankfully Emmett was there to catch you— and you moaned loudly.  Emmett laid down slightly, letting you lay on top of him and hide your face in his chest.  “That’s my girl,” he praised quietly.

As Joel’s movements sped up a little more, he sighed, seeming to find a comfortable pace (for him, at least) as you forced yourself not to tense up: it didn’t hurt, but it was certainly an intense feeling, especially when you felt Joel’s heavy balls slap against your dripping pussy.

"This'll be better than coming on your face," Joel grinned.  "Filling up this tight ass, fuck, you're so dirty, baby…"

You felt someone move your hips down a bit, changing the angle of it all, but you were too lost in it to even know who it was.  Emmett kissed your neck, teeth teasing your pulse, and you whined— you would beg him to bite you and leave a mark that everyone could see, if you could speak at all right now.

Your legs ended up straddling Emmett’s lap, and you gasped when you felt his cock press against your pussy— you'd been too distracted to even notice him taking it out— and he cooed at you sweetly.  "You can take both, right?" he asked quietly.  "You've always got room for me, don't you?"

Though you were still intimidated by the idea, you nodded as you bit your lip.

"That's my girl," Emmett praised, grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto his cock.

You almost screamed at the feeling of being so full, digging your fingers into Emmett’s shoulders.  He looked up at you with eager eyes, watching you struggle to take them both— but you eventually relaxed enough to sink down and fit them both to the hilt.

“Good fucking girl,” Joel praised with a groan, holding on tight to your hips as he started to move again slowly— as for Emmett, his hands moved from your waist to your head to guide you into a sloppy, needy kiss.

Your moans were loud yet weak, your shaky hands clutching at Emmett desperately as they both pumped into you.  Joel seemed almost overwhelmed by it, too, leaning down over you, growling and biting at your neck and shoulder. 

“F-fuck, dunno how long I can last like this,” Joel admitted, “so fucking tight…”

You jumped slightly when one of Joel's rough hands reached around your hips and slid down to your clit, rubbing at the bud until you jerked back from the sudden intense sensation.

"Just wanna feel you come first, princess," he explained with a purr.

“A-ah, fuck,” you whimpered, shaking all over as you tried to process all that you were feeling.  They moved you around how they wanted you, and at some point Emmett was sitting up and holding you in his lap while Joel kept thrusting into your ass from behind while holding your shoulder— how were you supposed to keep track of all the anatomy of this, while you had two big cocks stretching you open and Joel’s rough, experienced fingers on your clit.

Emmett moaned against your skin as he kept sucking on your neck, meanwhile Joel was speaking gruffly by your ear, sending chills up your spine.  “Can you come, princess?” he asked darkly.  “‘Round both our cocks?”

“Yes,” you admitted in a gasp, “fuck— Emmett, can I come?”

He smiled against your neck; “Of course, babydoll,” he breathed.  “Let’s show Joel how much you love bein’ fucked like a whore.”

You wrapped your arms around Emmett’s neck, dropping your head limply back on Joel’s shoulder as the feeling washed over you: you tightened up everywhere, inside and out, and they both groaned as they watched you give in to ecstasy.  You weren’t even sure whose hands were where anymore, but they were everywhere, and even through your exhaustion you felt desperation guide your hips to move on their own— chasing an even higher pleasure.

“Fuck,” Joel grunted as he watched you go, his own thrusts getting faster and rougher.  “Fuck, that’s so cute.”

You didn’t expect him to describe you like that in a time like this, and you whimpered as your walls flexed again.  You could tell Joel was getting a little desperate himself, that bandaged hand giving your clit a break and holding your hip tightly instead.  “Come in her ass, Joel,” Emmett ordered with a sigh, staring at your face with heavy eyes, “she’s ready.”

He did it pretty much instantly, groaning lowly and tossing his head back with a sharp breath in through his teeth; you felt him flexing, and it stretched your tighter hole even just that much more.  You whined softly at the feeling, hearing distantly little praises from Emmett, and finally Joel finished and pulled out of you with a little hiss.

It was less of a relief than you expected— your ass was still stretched and sore, and Emmett was still so deep inside you… and then, a moment later, you felt that hot trickle out of your used hole.  You felt filthy with Joel’s come running out of you like that, tickling your inner thigh as it dribbled down— but the way Emmett was looking at you seemed to remove any sense of shame you had left.

"God, look how beautiful you are," Emmett grunted as he guided you to move faster in his lap, "men just can't help it with you, can they?  Bet every guy in this town wants you, bet they're all thinking about having you to themselves— but you're mine, huh?  My girl?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "yes, I'm yours— all yours, Emmett, always—"

"Gonna show Joel whose girl you are," Emmett promised with a growl.  "Gonna get this pussy nice and full how you like it."

"Yes," you said again, a needy groan this time— the tip of his cock was hitting so deep inside you that you could hardly breathe, yet you only wanted more.  "Yes, please, please— come in me, daddy."

"Damn," Joel laughed, "she is dirty."

Emmett grinned.  "Only gets that way when she's real desperate.  Needs her daddy's come so bad…"

“Please,” you begged shakily, feeling him pull you closer and start to buck his hips up into you faster; he was breathing roughly, quickly, and you knew that he was getting close, but he had a habit of holding back until he absolutely couldn’t take it anymore just so he could watch you like this for as long as possible.  

Apparently unsatisfied with the speed and control he could reach with you on top of him, Emmett pushed you back down onto the bed, holding your legs and fucking you hard and fast— you cried out, arching your back as his hands slid up to hold your waist.

You gasped loudly when Joel unexpectedly leaned down and sucked on one of your tits; your back arched even further towards it, and you heard him moan against your skin as his tongue circled the hardened bud.  Emmett's mouth suddenly found the other one, without his pace slowing down at all, and you could've screamed right then.  You hadn't realized how sensitive they would be, and never in your life had you had both sucked on at once— it was so overwhelming, it was making jolts of white hot pleasure burst inside you, and fuck Emmett’s cock was filling you just right, hitting that perfect spot—

"I'm coming," you sobbed, "f-fuck, daddy, I'm coming—"

Emmett groaned loudly, his mouth falling slack around your breast as hot breaths fanned your skin.  You felt him starting to flex inside you, and you moaned louder knowing he was filling you so deep.  His grunts were in time with his deep, hard thrusts into you, and you went numb and tingly all over as the orgasm seemed to drain everything out of you.

Finally, he slowed to a stop, moving up to kiss you slow and sweet— both of you breathing heavily against each other, your shaky fingers reaching up to hold his face and run through his hair.

He broke away and sat up with a sigh; you wanted to kiss him longer, but you were too exhausted to even complain, simply relaxing against the bed and almost wincing when he pulled out of your sore cunt.

Emmett sat back and tugged your limp form up a bit, cradling you as he held your back to his chest.  “Oh, look at that,” he whispered just beside your ear, reaching down to rub your thigh, “all’a my come running out of you… both holes nice and full just how you need… so fuckin’ pretty, baby, my pretty little girl…”

You just whimpered sleepily, soaking in the warmth of Emmett’s embrace.

"Why don't you taste her now, Joel?" Emmett suddenly offered him with a smirk.  

Before you could process that idea, Emmett was holding your legs open while Joel dived down between them.  You whimpered as Joel licked up through your folds, your whole body getting hot at the thought of Joel tasting you and Emmett.  He really didn't mind doing that with another man's come?  The idea that he might just be that insatiable for you…

He suddenly latched on to your clit and sucked hard, making you yelp and buck your hips— but Joel and Emmett were both holding onto you tight, keeping you steady as your body shook uncontrollably.

"Oh, that's it's," Emmett praised, "let him taste you, baby— let Joel lick that pretty pussy, okay?"

"F-fuck— s'really sensitive—" you choked out.

Emmett held you tighter, both hands groping your breasts and his fingertips gently toying with your nipples.  “Bein’ so good for me,” he praised in a low, rough voice.  “So fuckin’ pretty when you’re getting your pussy ate, babydoll— never get to appreciate it ‘cause I’m too busy doin’ it.  But you look so fuckin’ cute like this…”

Your back arched, pushing your shoulders against Emmett's chest as he held you, and he trailed gentle kisses along your shoulder and up your neck. 

"Gonna come, huh?" he noticed, pinching your nipples harder until you whined.  "It's okay, baby, let Joel make you come.  Just one more and you can rest…"

“C-can’t,” you choked, “can’t come anymore—”

“Shh, you can,” Emmett promised.  “You can show Joel how good you are for me, huh?  You can come when I tell you to.”

“Fuck,” you sobbed, grabbing onto Emmett’s hand tightly— though your other hand gripped a handful of Joel’s salt-and-pepper hair, making him look up at you with those dark brown eyes…

“Mhm, you can do it,” Emmett continued, squeezing your hand in encouragement.  “Put your tongue inside her, Joel.”

You shuddered and quaked when Joel obeyed, the most filthy sounds filling the room while Joel lapped and sucked at your leaking pussy.  Emmett’s hand— the one you weren’t holding onto for dear life— groped your tits roughly, pinching your nipples hard enough to make you buck your hips against Joel’s face, but Joel still had that iron-tight grip on your hips to keep you where he needed you.

Joel was moaning lowly against your skin, focusing his tongue attention back on your clit— from teasing little circles around it to hard, rough licks right over it.  This time, when he went back to sucking on the nub harder than ever, you knew you couldn’t hold it back anymore.  “Fuck, Joel!” you screamed, making him groan darkly again.  “I’m gonna come!”

Emmett dragged his teeth over the shell of your ear, laughing softly yet wickedly.  “You’re sayin’ his name now?” he noticed.  “You’re not coming for him, baby, you’re coming for me.  Because I told you to.  Yes?”

“Yes, yes,” you promised, chanting it mindlessly.  “Yours, Emmett— fuck, I’m yours, you know I am.  Only yours.”

His hand moved from your breast to your face, turning it far enough to look at him— those eyes were boring into you, and you whimpered with your lip between your teeth as you hoped you hadn’t disappointed him.  “Say it again,” he demanded.

“Yours,” you repeated as you looked into his eyes— even though your imminent orgasm made it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.  “I’m yours, daddy.”

He grabbed your jaw and kissed you hard, his tongue keeping your mouth wide open; he swallowed every moan as you came, moaning himself like he could taste your pleasure in the kiss, holding your hand tighter than ever. 

Joel kept eating you out even when your whole body was shaking, even when your weak little hand was trying to push his head away— he only stopped when Emmett’s hand joined yours, just one touch and Joel lifted his head and sighed.

Emmett guided your hand back up to his face, and you held it (with what little strength you had) as you kept kissing him… though the kiss changed, it went from rough and hungry to soft and slow and gentle.

He stopped kissing you just enough to speak, his thumb petting your cheek so you would open your eyes.  “You did so good for me, babydoll,” he cooed under his breath.

Knowing you had finally done everything he wanted, you melted limply into Emmett’s arms, who chuckled a little at your exhaustion.  

“Looks like you really wore her out, Miller.”

“You did, too,” Joel returned.  “Besides, at that age, I’m guessin’ she’ll be raring to go again by the end of the hour.”

Emmett snorted.  “I can get her begging in five minutes,” he countered.

“Please— m’too tired,” you whimpered, cuddling up tighter against Emmett— but his hand was already snaking up your thigh, teasing further between your legs.

“Too tired, huh?” he taunted quietly, petting closer to your sore pussy until your legs spread naturally to let him touch where he wanted.  “Good girl.”

Two fingers delicately teased you, circling around your clit but never quit reaching it— until you were rocking your hips up to try to find some attention in the right spot.

When he did touch your clit, ever so gently, you shivered and mumbled his name; your eyes still closed, you hid your face in his neck and began to shamelessly rock against his fingers.  He teased your opening, making it apparent how wet you still were, but never dipped inside no matter how hard you tried to tempt him to.

“Please,” you whispered, too desperate to feel guilty for it at all, “Emmett, I need—”

“Jesus,” Joel laughed, “didn’t take long at all, did it?”

“Nope,” Emmett agreed.

“So fuckin’ needy,” Joel groaned.

“Yep,” Emmett responded simply again.  “Tell us what you need, babydoll…”

“I…I need…” you mumbled, face getting warm.  “Need to be full…”

“With what?” Joel pressed.

“Um…” you stalled, nervous to admit it but knowing they wouldn’t rest until you did.  “With a… a cock.”

Emmett snorted.  “Any cock?” he wondered.

“W-well, I figured one of you two—”

They both laughed a little, and you felt silly but your walls tightened against themselves.  “We’re not young like you, sweetpea— it’s not that easy,” Joel explained.  “Gonna need a little more patience…”

“But— but you got me all worked up!” you whined.  “You did that on purpose…”

“Yeah,” Emmett admitted with a purr, “yeah, baby, I did that on purpose.”

You pouted a bit.  “You’re mean sometimes…”

“Mhm,” he agreed with a soft laugh, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Joel.  “How long will it take you to get hard again?”

“Not that long,” Joel answered, “if she puts that mouth to good use.”

Emmett helped you sit up, patting your back encouragingly.  “Go ahead, baby, you know what to do…”

As you crawled towards where Joel knelt on the bed, still totally dazed and exhausted, you realized that tonight was far from over— and that tonight may not be all that Emmett had in store for you.

[letstripdotcom]

shut up my moms calling- chris sturniolo x fem!reader

a/n i love naming my fics after songs bc then i listen to them on replay while i write.

summary- coming home from college means seeing the kid you’ve hated most your whole life. chris sturniolo. you’ve hated everything about his existence since the beginning of 6th grade when you transferred to somerville. the summer after your freshman year of college is when everything starts to change.

warnings- long(ish) smut ofc, mention of toxic relationship, choking, pet names (princess, baby, pretty girl) overstimulation {i think that’s all!}

-

6th grade

i just moved from oklahoma to a small town outside of boston called somerville. it was my first day of 6th grade and i was everything but excited to go. i had a good amount of friends in oklahoma, and absolutely none in massachusetts. if it were up to me i would have stayed, but i had no choice because my mom got offered better work down here.

i walked into the crowded classroom with my schedule in hand. “is this mrs sawyers class?” i ask quietly. “yes it is, and you must be y/n?” she looks up at me through her glasses. “y-yes” i utter nervously. “nice to meet you, have a seat wherever” I walk to a more empty side of the classroom and take a seat.

“newww girlll” i voice calls out in a mocking tone when i sit down. when i look up i lock eyes with a boy with short brown hair. hes sat with his 2 triplet brothers and another one of their friends. “yeah?” i say quietly. he starts immediately attacking me with questions

“where are you from? why are you here? what school did you go to last? did you have friends” i’m overwhelmed as questions pour out of his mouth. “chris you’re freaking her out” his brother says. “i’m nick.” he smiles at me. “that’s chris, obviously, and that’s matt”

“hey nice to meet you” the third one says. “oh and that’s nate.” nick says. i nod my head looking at the 4 boys. “i’m y/n” i say. “y/n?” chris says under his breath almost inaudible. “excuse me?” i say turning my head to look at him. “what nothing.” he tries to play it off

“who decided on the name y/n, your mom or your dad?” chris asks with a disgusted but confused look on his face. “it was my mom’s best friend’s name before she passed.” i explained. “tough” he muttered. the whole rest of the class period was filled with his snarky remarks and questions.

over time, as i got closer to matt and nick, the snarky remarks from chris turned into full on arguments. anything i would say would lead to chris having something else to say. i could tell him my head hurts and he would say something along the lines of “maybe if you wouldn’t think so hard about what to say and just shut the fuck up for once that wound be a problem.” i would just roll my eyes and go back to talking to nick

-

this behavior lasted all the way through senior year of high school. i stayed close with nick and matt, which means i was stuck with chris. we got in several heated arguments over the years and they all led to me leaving the triplets house at 2 in the morning because i couldn’t physically be around chris.

our last big fight was the weekend before i left for college. nick wanted to host a small party of about 15 friends for me since i wouldn’t be seeing him again til the summer. we were setting up the decorations and chris was being extra annoying.

“chris can you actually help out and stop acting like a fucking toddler.” i snapped at him while he stood under me watching me hang up a banner. “maybe if you weren’t nagging at me every 30 seconds.” he complained. “i wouldn’t be nagging if you wouldn’t stand in my way instead of actually contributing to anything in this world” i yelled, stepping off the ladder as i finished hanging the banner.

“you act like i wanna do this party. i don’t give a fuck about you.” he spat “i might not even show up tonight because you’ve been a bitch all day long!” my heart dropped and i felt a lump form in my throat. bitch? me and chris never got along but he never called me a bitch

he knew how much i hated it because of a past relationship i had. during junior year, i was in a super toxic relationship with a kid from our school. i was so naive i had thought he had actually liked me but it turns out i was wrong. we would constantly argue and he would gaslight me into forgiving him.

i stared at chris blankly as tears formed in my eyes. “y/n i-“ “fuck you chris.” i cut him off “and yeah i think it’s best you don’t show up tonight.” i ran upstairs to the bathroom and wiped away my tears. i checked in the mirror and adjusted myself before going back down.

-

present day

i hung up the phone with nick and got in my car. i was on my way home from college for the summer, and i finally got to see my best friend. he’s so excited that he rented out a cabin by the lake for a whole week to celebrate. i haven’t seen any of the triplets since i left, i haven’t seen chris since before the party. chris. my stomach dropped and my heart started pounding when the realization hit that i would be seeing chris.

i didn’t want to see him at all. nick said he changed a lot, and maybe he did, but you can never be too sure. and he did change a lot physically. chris was much more attractive then he was in highschool, not that he’s ever been unattractive, other than his personality.

about a few hours later i called nick to tell him i was close to the cabin. i pulled in and nick darted outside. “omgggg it’s been forever” i squealed as i got out of my car. “you have to see the place!” he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the back of the house. “there’s a hot tub, a massive pool and all of this space.” he gawked at the house. we went inside as he gave me a tour of the house. “this is your room!” he announced pointing inside.

i looked around and it was absolutely beautiful. “thank you so much nick this is amazing” i hugged him. “don’t thank me too much” he said “i had to put you in the room across the hall from chris, i hope you don’t mind because i’ll work something out”

“no that’s totally fine, i’ll just pretend he isn’t even here” i smiled. he smiled back “okay i’ll be downstairs getting everything ready bc we’re gonna have movie night tonight just like high school.” he said as he left my room.

after i got settled in, i took a shower. i picked out my pajamas which was just a big t shirt and shorts and i headed down stairs happily. “there she is!” matt exclaimed, giving me a hug. “matt i missed you so much!” i said hugging him back

after i pulled away, i made eye contact with chris, who was glaring at me and matt. i shot him a calm smile and looked away. wow chris got really hot. you thought to yourself. no, chris is awful. but i couldn’t help but notice his fluffy hair and his defined jawline.

i noticed his sun kissed face, which made his freckles stand out. god i could only imagine what he looked like with my leg- no. remember what chris said to you. i snapped myself out of my thoughts and sat by nick on the the couch. he handed me a blanket and i cuddled up next to him and focused my eyes on the screen

my focus only lasted for about 30 seconds before my mind was back on chris. why hasn’t he spoke to me? because he hates me. duh. i wonder what he’s thinking right now. why am i so worried about chris? “you okay?” nick asks from beside me. “yeah i’m fine” i say in a convincing reassuring tone.

after the movie ends, i say goodnight and i head up to my room. i get situated in my bed, and i try to fall asleep but i can’t. my mind is flooded with thoughts of chris, and the next thing i know my hand is down my pants. what has happened to me?

this is chris sturniolo, the kid who’s bullied me for 7 years. i never imagined i would be getting off to the thought of him at 2 in the morning. i need to go to bed, but i physically can’t.

i get up out of bed and dig through my bags. i grab my pink swim suit and put it on. a get a towel from my bathroom and quietly head down stairs. i go out the back door and get in the hot tub. i zone out and try to find peace of mind.

i sit there with my eyes closed until i hear someone else getting in the water. i open my eyes, only to see chris. great. this is exactly what i need right now. “look y/n” his voice breaks me out of my thoughts. “i’m really sorry for the way i’ve treated you, you didn’t deserve any of it. but, we’re older now so i wanna put the past in the past”

“i forgive you” i say flatly. “really?” he seems genuinely shocked. “can i kiss you?” i asked immediately regretting what i said. “what?” is all he says before i grab my towel and run inside.

i lay on my bed for a split second before i hear a knock. i know it’s chris, but i still go to the door and answer it. i look up at him with a guilty look on my face. before i speak he’s slamming his face into mine.

he kisses me very passionately like he’s been waiting is whole life. he pushes me into my room and shuts the door behind us. he turns me and pushes me against is as he kisses me harder. one of his hands come up and squeeze my neck slightly

i moan into his mouth causing him to squeeze harder. i moan again growing super wet between my legs. one of my hands come up to tug on his hair, while the other one makes its way up his shirt.

with one hand still around my neck, he guides me over to my bed and lays me down flat as he climbs on top of me. “can i?” he asks, toying with the strap of my top. “pls chris” i whine. he unties my top and yanks it off, his mouth immediately meeting my nipple, his available hand massaging my other breast.

i throw my head back and moan as he does whatever he wants. next thing i know, his hand is coming off my throat, and down my body. he stops abt my bottoms before looking at me for confirmation. i nod desperately. his cold hands slip into my bottoms as his fingers meet my clit.

i’m a moaning mess at this point, begging for whatever contact i can get. “god you’re fucking soaked.” he says, his voice raspy and quiet. “fuck chris please touch me.” i beg “whatever you want princess” he says before putting his ring and middle finger inside of me. he quickly pumps in and out for a few seconds before i cut him of. “chris wait” i say

“are you okay did i do something wrong?” he questions. “no but i have an idea.” i tell him. i then instruct him to lay on his back and put his head on the pillow. i watch as he does what i say. once he’s situated i ask him “can i sit on your face?”

i laughed a little inside about how innocent it sounded. “of course princess” he says. i make my way closer to him as i put my legs on either side of his head. i slightly lower myself down, enough to make contact.

my legs shake as i try to hold myself up while he eats me. he lifts me up a little and says “don’t be shy baby, suffocate me.” he grips my waist harder as he pulls me down all the way onto his face. my back arches at the contact.

chris eats me like i was his last meal, i grip the headboard, and struggle to stay quiet while his nose rubs my clit. “chris i’m g-gonna cum” i whine. one of his hands come off my waist and grabs my ass, massaging it. my legs squeeze his head. and i moan uncontrollably as i release all over his face.

after i come down from my high, i get off and straddle his waist. i lean down and kiss him, tasting myself. i grind on his hard on while we kiss, making him grunt. i reach my hand down and palm his boxers as his body twitches.

i go for the band of his swim shorts and slowly pull them down, exposing his hard dick. i look him in the eyes, to get his consent “y/n please” is all i need to hear before i slowly stroke him. he moans and tosses his head back

after a few more strokes, i sit up and line myself up with him. i slowly lower myself onto him, wincing at his size as i feel him in me. once i’m fully sat, i sit still for a minute to adjust. once i’m ready i start bouncing up and down. he puts one hand on my waist to guide me, as the other one makes it way to mu sensitive clit.

“ughh chris don’t stop” i whine as i ride him. my words make him rub my clit even faster than before. my eyes are now practically stuck in the back of my head as i moan out for him. when i’m about to finish, i clench around him, making his mouth fall open. i come all over him, as he helps me through my high

“good job princess.” he grunts i keep riding him until i feel him twitch. “you feel so good pretty girl. i’m almost there.” i clench again, becoming slightly overstimulated. just then he releases, inside of me. after he comes down i slide off and plop on my bed.

“you okay princess?” he asks with concern “overstimulated” is all i can bring myself to mutter. chris picks me up and lays me in a more comfortable spot on the bed. he then heads to my bathroom and comes back with a towel. he helps clean me off before he finds the shorts and shirt i had on earlier.

he helps me put them on, then he puts his shorts on and goes to his room. i feel sad in that moment. how could he to all of that just to leave? just then he enters my room with pajama pants on. “don’t worry i’m not going anywhere.” he whispers as he crawls into bed with me.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

a/n: kinda love this what do u think?

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 6

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, angst, mentions of shooting, confusion, flufffffff

The morning light beamed through the windows of the bridal studio as I quickly unlocked the door, stepping into the familiar sight of lace and silk. It was a quiet Saturday morning after my date with Chris, and the shop felt like a safe space from the thoughts swirling through my mind since last night. I flicked on the lights, the soft glow illuminating the rows of white gowns hanging in neat lines. Saturdays were always busy, especially with brides coming in for final fittings, but today felt like it would be a bit harder since there was a heavy weight in my chest that I couldn’t seem to lift.

As I settled behind the counter, I turned on the small radio, keeping my normal routine. Soft music played for a few moments before the news interrupted.

“Breaking news this morning: Boston police are investigating two separate shootings that occurred last night. One incident took place in Somerville, while the other took place in the South End area. No fatalities have been reported yet, but authorities believe both incidents may be gang related. More updates to follow.”

I paused, my fingers freezing over the appointment book. Two shootings? I felt a chill run down my spine as I listened. How awful it was that violence like this was so common here the last few years, and how easily lives could be shattered overnight. The mention of gangs tugged at something deep within me - a sense of unease I had been trying to push away since Chris abruptly left last night. I shook my head, trying to shake the thought.

I went through the motions of my normal working day, greeting brides and their families with the same professional smile, but my thoughts kept drifting. The night before had left me feeling.. off.. and heavily single. Chris and I had started the date on such a high, but the way he left so suddenly, without really explaining much, left me with a sinking feeling. It wasn’t just disappointment, it was confusion, too. Was I the only one catching feelings? It made me feel fucking stupid.

After my shift ended, I headed home, my legs heavy with exhaustion. As soon as I walked through my bedroom door and threw myself on my bed, my phone buzzed. I glanced at it, expecting a message from Willow, and sure enough, her name lit up my screen.

Willow: “Hey girl! There’s a party at Tyler’s tomorrow night. You should totally come! And see if Chris wants to join ;) Maybe ask him to bring along a certain friend too..”

I sighed, dropping my phone on my bed. A party. Part of me wanted to go and let loose, but the other part was still tangled up in confusion about Chris. I hadn’t gotten the chance to fill Willow in on it yet. Was I being ridiculous for feeling this way after one date? I barely knew him now.. he wasn’t the same Chris I’d remembered from my teenage years. He was more.. closed off, like there were parts of his life he couldn’t or wouldn’t let me see. The uncertainty of it all scared me.

I told myself I’d wait a bit to reply to Willow. As I was about to set my phone down, it buzzed again.

Chris: “Check your tree house.”

I blinked, confused. What could he possibly mean? I pushed myself off of my bed and stepped toward the balcony door, pushing it open as the cool evening air washed over me. My gaze shifted to the old tree house in the backyard, a relic of someone’s childhood that hadn’t seen much use in years. With curiosity tugging at me, I slipped outside, my heart pounding as I squinted across into the tree house window that was now glowing inside.

I stopped once my eyes fixated on what was inside, my breath catching in my throat.

The tree house was transformed. There were fairy lights hung around the edges of the roof, blankets and pillows spread across the floor, pizza boxes neatly stacked in the corner, a bouquet of wildflowers lying on top. It was perfect in a way I hadn’t expected.

I looked down from the treehouse and standing there was Chris. His eyes met mine, a small smile forming on his lips as he waved.

"Hey.." he called up softly. "Can I come up?"

I couldn’t help but smile back, my heart doing backflips. “Yeah get up here” I laughed.

Chris climbed up with ease, as I climbed in through the window. He glanced around at the setup, his expression a little smug. I laughed, warmth spreading through me. "This is really sweet, Chris. You didn’t have to do all this."

"I wanted to" he said, his eyes meeting mine in a deep, sincere way that made my heart race. “I wanted to make up for last night” he said quietly. “I’m sorry about the way things went.. I really didn’t want to leave like that.. I felt like I messed up, and I don’t want you to feel like... I don’t care. Because I do."

I studied him for a moment, trying to find the right words. “It’s okay” I replied, though a part of me had been hurt. “I was just.. a little confused. I thought we were having a good time, and then you had to go so suddenly.”

Chris nodded, his face full of regret. “I know. I didn’t plan for it to go that way. But I really did enjoy our date, and I wanted to make it up to you with something a little more.. private.” He gestured to the tree house, the pizza, the flowers. “I figured this was a good place to start.”

I smiled, warmth spreading through me. “It’s perfect.”

We sat there for a while, sharing slices of pizza and talking. It was so easy to fall into conversation with him. Every now and then, I’d catch him looking at me with that same intensity I remembered from years ago, only now, it was deeper, more meaningful. It was like he was seeing me, really seeing me, for the first time. I had to admit, I liked the way it made me feel.

"You know" Chris said, his tone becoming a bit more serious, "when we were younger... I always thought you were going to do something amazing, I was always in awe of you."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. You were always so determined, so driven. I mean, you seem to really be doing things for yourself Y/n."

I couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes softened when he looked at me, and the way he seemed genuinely interested in me. It made me feel seen, like he really cared. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was scared. Scared because I could feel myself falling for him. Fast.

We kept talking, the hours slipping by as we shared stories, hopes, and dreams. The conversation flowed easily, and before I knew it, it was near midnight, and a cool breeze had started to creep into the air.

I shivered slightly, and Chris noticed immediately. "You’re cold" he said, concern flashing in his eyes.

"A little" I admitted, hugging the blanket around myself.

He glanced toward my house, then back at me. "Do you want to go inside? I mean, if you’re okay with that."

I hesitated for a second, but then nodded. "Yeah. My parents are still away, so.. there’s no issue."

We climbed out the tree house window, making our way back inside through the balcony door. The warmth of my room wrapped around us, and I gestured for him to make himself comfortable. Chris settled onto the edge of my bed, his eyes scanning the room before landing back on me.

"This is nice" he said, smiling softly.

I sat beside him, my heart racing a little faster now that we were inside. The atmosphere was different - more intimate, more charged. And yet, there was a sense of comfort that made me feel safe. Chris shifted closer, and I could feel the warmth radiating from him as he gently took my hand in his.

“This place is exactly how I imagined it would be” he said, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“What do you mean?” I asked, tilting my head in curiosity.

Chris chuckled softly, sitting down on the edge of my bed. “I don’t know.. It just feels like you. Neat, organised, but with a little bit of chaos thrown in.” He nodded toward my cluttered desk, where textbooks and random papers were strewn about. “Like that.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing as I sat down next to him. “Hey, I’m busy! College life is no joke.”

He grinned. “I know. And I still can’t believe you’re studying law.”

I felt my cheeks warm at the compliment, but his tone had a hint of something else - something more uncertain. “What?” I asked, studying his face. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

“No, that’s not it” he said quickly. “I just.. I don’t know. It’s a lot. A lawyer and a guy like me?” He let out a nervous chuckle. “That’s one hell of a combo.”

I nudged him playfully. “A guy like you?” I repeated, teasing. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit, Chris.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Maybe.”

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking the moment. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen for a split second before putting it back without replying. The name had flashed across the screen too quickly for me to see, but there was something about the way he ignored it that made my stomach churn. Was it another girl? 

“Everything okay?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

Chris hesitated for a beat, then smiled. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t, maybe I’m overthinking.. There’s no way he’d do all of that if there was another girl in the picture.

Chris’s hand was still held in mine and I could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. His presence felt so calming, yet there was this underlying tension, a kind of electricity I couldn't quite ignore.

I shifted slightly to face him, our eyes meeting. For a second, we just stared at each other, as if both of us were trying to figure out what the other was thinking. His gaze dropped briefly to my lips, and I could feel my heartbeat quicken.

“Chris..” I started, not even sure where I was going with it, but his name felt like the only thing I could say in that moment.

He leaned in a little closer, his hand gently finding its way to my cheek, his thumb lightly brushing my skin. The touch sent a wave of warmth through me, and I instinctively leaned into it.

“I’m really glad we reconnected.” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were so sincere, so full of something I hadn’t expected to see – vulnerability.

I felt the same vulnerability rising in me, too. “Me too” I whispered back, and before I could say anything more, he closed the small gap between us.

His lips met mine gently, testing at first, almost hesitant. But when I responded, pressing back into him, it was like something clicked between us. The kiss deepened, his hand moving from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me in closer. I could feel my heart racing, but this time it wasn’t out of nervousness or fear. It was because this felt right.

For a moment, everything else melted away. The awkwardness of the previous night, the confusion I had felt.. all of it disappeared as the kiss continued, soft yet filled with an undeniable intensity. It was like we’d been waiting for this moment for years, and now that it was here, neither of us wanted to let go.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. I could feel his warm breath on my skin, and I smiled softly, my lips still tingling from the kiss.

“That..” I began, still trying to catch my breath, “was.. unexpected.”

Chris chuckled lightly, his hand still gently holding the back of my neck. “Yeah” he murmured, his voice low and husky, “but in the best way.”

I couldn’t help but agree. There was something about being here, in this moment, with him, that made everything else seem so far away, like we were the only two people in the world.

Before I could second guess myself, I looked up at him and smiled. "There’s a party tomorrow night, Willow invited me.. do you want to come? She said you could bring Nate too if you’d like"

Chris smiled, his eyes lighting up in that familiar, charming way. "I’d love to. I’m sure Nate would too."

For the rest of the night, we stayed close, talking in whispers, sharing more smiles, more laughs and even a few more kisses. It was like we were stepping into something new together, something unspoken but full of possibility.

The nervousness I had felt earlier about catching feelings seemed to evaporate, replaced with something even scarier – hope. Maybe, just maybe, this thing between us could actually work.

a/n: are things going to work out???

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 @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend

[ch0llies]

REVIVAL | CHRIS STURNIOLO

A story in which a messy breakup lands you in your best friend’s Boston apartment a year after high school, and you find yourself face-to-face again with Christopher Sturniolo—your first love. As your paths cross again, the bitterness of how you left him still lingers, fueling every hated glance. But with your best friend dating his brother, you know is there’s no escaping Chris—or the tension that refuses to die. Is this revival destined to reignite, or will it crumble under the weight of your unresolved past?

story warning: filthy smut, angst, swearing, underage drinking, underage drug use, abusive behavior, morally skewed choices, toxic relationships, and overall mature themes. if any of this upsets you... don't read!

word count: 8.9k

CHAPTER ONE:

You had been eyeing him all night. The longer the party went on, the stronger the ache between your legs became. 

You could blame it on the alcohol that was coursing through your body, or the fact that you hadn’t fucked in nearly a month since you dumped your piece of shit ex-boyfriend. 

But you knew the real reason. It had been a year since you’d seen him, and it was undeniable that Christopher Owen Sturniolo had grown into a man.

He was no longer the lanky little boy you shared your first kiss with in seventh grade or the awkward acne-ridden teenager who took your virginity sophomore year, and he most certainly wasn’t the wavy-haired senior who was irrevocably heartbroken when you got into a relationship and ghosted him. 

No, this Chris was different. 

His features had grown since you last saw him. He had sharp cheekbones, a strong and prominent jawline, and light stubble that made you crazy.

The freckles you used to tease him about but truly loved more than anything in the world were still there, scattered across his nose, but now they added to his charm rather than taking away from it.  

His thick brown hair, which he used to grow out and flaunt endlessly, was now cut shorter and only added to the maturity he seemed to be radiating. It framed his face perfectly. The brown strands were darker now and looked almost unreal next to his light blue eyes. 

He’d filled out too. The smaller frame you remembered was gone, replaced by wide shoulders and slightly toned arms.

He looked good. Too good. 

He stood across the room, laughing at something you assumed his friend had said.

You tried not to stare, you really did, but your eyes betrayed you. Every movement he made, every time he laughed, or ran his fingers through his hair, you felt your stomach tighten. 

And it wasn’t just lust– it was the past of everything unresolved coming back from the deep dark corners of your mind where you had hidden them.

Chris hadn’t acknowledged you yet— not really. Sure, you’d exchanged nonchalant hellos when you first arrived, but the conversation ended there. 

So technically he knew you were there. He was just refusing to recognize you and every feeling and emotion you would bring with you. 

So, you were just another face in a crowd, and he was the man you couldn’t stop thinking about.  

Maybe this was your karma.

Part of you was mourning the Chris you once knew. That Chris would have been glued to your side the second you walked in, his eyes lighting up like you were the only person in the room. This Chris didn’t even flinch when he saw you. His face was so incredibly straight that it made you feel like a goddamn stranger.  

You were only here because of Ava. She’d practically dragged you out of the apartment you shared that her dad bought for you two with promises that “It’ll be fun, I swear,” and “You have to be there—Matt’s expecting you.” Matt, of course, being her boyfriend, and Chris’s triplet brother. It was almost laughable. You had no desire to see Chris, no desire to stir up all the feelings you’d spent the past year pushing down. Yet, here you were.

He was standing near the kitchen now, leaning casually against the counter with a beer in his hand, talking to a girl you didn’t recognize. She was laughing at something he said, touching his arm lightly, and you hated how it made your chest tighten. A wave of something—anger, jealousy, regret—surged through you, and you tried to ignore it, trying to focus on anything else.

Ava leaned in closer, her hand lightly touching your elbow. “You okay?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

“I’m fine,” you lied, plastering on a smile that probably looked as thin as it felt. You glanced over at her, noting the way her cheeks still flushed whenever she talked about Matt even after they’ve been dating for years.

Your gaze flickered back to Chris—like it had a will of its own—and you caught his profile just as he threw his head back in laughter. The sight of his throat working, the slight scruff along his jaw, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners… It was too much. You swore you could feel your stomach flip in response.

Ava followed your line of sight, sighing softly when she realized what had your attention. “You can still talk to him, you know,” she whispered, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “He’s still—”

“Absolutely not,” you cut in, your voice sharper than you intended. You were grateful for the pounding bass that swallowed the tension in your tone. “We said hi, and that’s all that’s needed.”

She gave you a look—equal parts sympathy and frustration—but didn’t push. You both knew there was more to this story, a history you hadn’t even begun to unpack.

You let out a breath, forcing your gaze anywhere but him. “Listen,” you said, nudging Ava gently, “go find Matt before he starts complaining you’re ignoring him.”

Ava hesitated for a second, like she wanted to say something else, but then she nodded. “I’ll be back ,” she promised, and with a smile, she slipped away into the crowd.

With her gone, you were left in the crowd of half-drunken strangers, music pulsing around you. You tried to dance a little, tried to lose yourself in the haze of alcohol and conversation, but it was nearly impossible.

He still hadn’t looked your way again—at least not that you’d noticed. But it felt like you could sense him, the same way you used to be able to tell he was approaching before you ever heard his footsteps.

You hated how your body seemed attuned to him even now, how the ache between your legs grew every time you caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. He was close enough that you could see the tension in his jaw as he spoke, see the way his fingers curled and uncurled around his beer bottle.

The girl who had been talking to him drifted off, pulling someone else onto the dance floor. Chris stayed where he was, sipping his drink and scanning the crowd, a flicker of something in his eyes that you couldn’t read from this distance.

Ava reappeared in your peripheral vision, weaving her way through the crowd with practiced ease. You watched as she sidled up to Chris, her lips close to his ear as she whispered something you couldn’t make out. A flash of surprise flickered across his features, followed by something you could only describe as annoyance. Then, as if he could feel your stare all the way from across the room, his gaze snapped to yours.

Your stomach dropped.

He didn’t break eye contact—not even when Ava squeezed his shoulder in parting and drifted away into the crowd. Instead, he kept those intense blue eyes fixed on you as he lifted his beer bottle to his lips, took a slow sip, and set it down on the counter behind him.

You could practically feel the tension crackling in the air by the time he started moving toward you. Your heart thudded in your chest with each step he took, every cell in your body screaming for you to look away, to find someplace else to be. But your feet remained rooted to the spot, as though glued there by all the unresolved tension between you.

Finally, he stopped in front of you. Close enough that you caught the faint hint of cologne and the warmth radiating from him. Close enough that all the old memories you’d tried to bury threatened to resurface in an instant.

“Hey.” His tone was clipped, casual on the surface but laced with something sharper—like he was testing you, waiting to see if you’d crack first.

You swallowed hard. “Hey.”

An uncomfortable beat of silence passed. You couldn’t read the look in his eyes—there was anger there, maybe some hurt, and definitely that lingering spark of attraction that neither of you had ever truly extinguished.

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Didn’t think I’d see you here, of all places.”

“Yeah, well,” you forced a shrug, fighting to keep your voice steady, “Ava’s my best friend. Matt’s her boyfriend. I got dragged along.”

He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that made his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt. “Still letting other people call the shots for you, huh?”

The jab was subtle, but you felt the sting immediately. You square your shoulders, ignoring the faint tremor in your knees. “Acting as if I didn’t walk you like a dog all throughout high school”

He nodded slowly, as though taking in your words. “This isn’t high school anymore, clearly.” He said, looking you up and down disgustingly.

The tension between you felt almost suffocating, thick with memories of late-night phone calls, stolen kisses, and the bittersweet aftermath of what happened senior year. The way you ended things—ghosting him right when he thought your relationship might finally become something more.

“You don’t have to act like this,” you said quietly, your voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it level.

He arched an eyebrow. “Act like what?”

You hesitated. “Like I’m some kind of inconvenience.”

He scoffed. “If that’s how you’re feeling, I wonder why.” He glanced away, jaw tightening. 

Your heart clenched, and you pressed your lips together, trying not to let your emotions spill out for everyone to see. “We don’t have to do this,” you repeated softly.

He shrugged, and the movement was painfully casual. “You’re right. We don’t have to do anything.” He flicked his gaze past you, scanning the crowd like you might bore him any second. “So why are we?”

You swallowed, a soft ache in your chest. Because despite all the time and distance, you both knew there was still something here—something electric, something that made it impossible for you to pass each other by like strangers.

“Chris—”

“Look,” he cut you off, his voice lowering enough that you had to lean in to hear him over the music. “I’m not gonna pretend I’m happy to see you. And I’m not gonna pretend everything’s fine. Because it’s not.”

Your pulse hammered in your ears at his bluntness. “Okay,” you whispered. It was all you could manage.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “But we’re here,” he finally said, a slight tremor lacing his words. “And I can’t just—” He paused, jaw working as though wrestling with something unspoken. “I can’t ignore you,” he finished in a harsh exhale.

You felt your chest tighten. He was right; he’d tried ignoring you all night, and you’d tried to ignore him, and still you’d both ended up here, facing each other, every unspoken thing hanging in the air like a storm about to break.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as his eyes flickered to yours. “So what now?”

You swallowed, heart pounding so hard you wondered if he could hear it over the pulsing music. His question—“What now?”—hung in the air, thick with a tension that set your nerves on fire.

You wanted to say something—anything—but words felt woefully inadequate. Instead, you met his gaze, letting him see the swirl of emotions that had taken up permanent residence in your chest: guilt, anger, desire. Especially desire.

For a beat, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was so charged you could practically feel it crackle. Your body felt hypersensitive to every shift in the air, every faint brush of his scent. All you could think about was how easy it would be to close the distance, to press your body against his and say the things you’d been holding back.

But instead, you let the moment slip by.

Chris exhaled sharply and dragged a hand through his hair, clearly wrestling with a torrent of his own. “You know,” he said at last, his voice low, “this isn’t exactly how I pictured seeing you again.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Yeah, me neither.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, but instead he just shook his head and turned away, jaw clenched. “I’m gonna get another drink,” he muttered, barely meeting your eyes before he disappeared into the crowd.

A breath you didn’t realize you were holding hissed from your lungs. You stood there, your entire body humming with the tension that still vibrated in the wake of his departure. It was as if every nerve ending had been lit on fire—burning with all the words left unspoken.

Hours later, the party was winding down, though the music still thumped in the background. You’d spent most of the time dancing with other friends, forcibly ignoring the steady undercurrent of longing that tugged you toward Chris like some gravitational pull. If he noticed you looking, he never showed it, except for a few fleeting moments where your eyes met across the room, sparks flying before you both turned away again.

Eventually, Ava found you. She looked disheveled, eyes glassy and a lazy grin on her face. Matt clung to her side, equally worse for wear—his hair mussed, his speech slurred. They were hanging off each other, giggling like teenagers.

“Hey,” Ava said, her words blending together, “I—uh—we need to go home.” She hiccuped, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Like, now.”

You glanced at the two of them, realizing just how hammered they were. Rolling your eyes affectionately, you hooked an arm around Ava’s waist to keep her steady. “Okay, okay. Let’s get you guys out of here.”

Getting Matt to focus was a chore, but between you and Ava’s coaxing, he finally managed to shuffle toward the exit. You kept an arm around your best friend, her head lolled onto your shoulder as she slurred something about how much she loved you.

Matt grinned drunkenly. “Y/N… you’re… you’re the best,” he mumbled, stumbling.

You snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get you home in one piece.”

Ava’s apartment—yours and hers, really—was close enough to walk, but considering how unsteady they both were, you worried it might be a disaster. Halfway to the door, you felt a presence behind you, a telltale warmth that made your skin prickle.

“Mind explaining where you’re taking my brother?”

Chris.

You turned, finding him standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets, eyes flicking between you and Matt, who was practically leaning his entire weight on your shoulder. Chris’s face was a complicated mask—some concern, a lot of annoyance, and just a hint of that ever-present tension.

Your chin lifted. “Home. With his girlfriend?” you said simply. “They’re both wrecked, so I’m taking them back to our place.”

A shadow of doubt passed over his expression. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

You arched a brow. “Excuse me?”

He nodded toward Matt. “I can’t leave my brother with you—” he gestured to Ava clinging to your arm, “—and that drunk fool. No offense, Ava.”

You bristled, even as a very small part of you was relieved that he cared enough to intervene. “Ava’s not that drunk. She just needs some water and a good night’s sleep, and Matt clearly needs the same.”

Chris’s gaze hardened. “Look, we can argue all night if you want, but at the end of the day, I’m not letting you carry his drunk ass home alone.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Matt swayed dangerously, cutting you off. Chris moved closer in an instant, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and steadying him. Matt mumbled something incoherent, then blinked as if just recognizing Chris was there.

“Hey, kid,” Matt slurred, lips curling into a lazy grin. “Missed you… or something.”

Chris rolled his eyes, but you didn’t miss the fleeting look of concern. “You see?” he said flatly. “He needs someone who can actually hold him upright.”

You blew out a breath, too exhausted and too buzzed to keep up the argument. Fine. Let him play the hero. “Alright,” you relented. “Let’s just get them home.”

With that, the four of you spilled out into the cool night air, Matt and Ava clutching onto each other and you, while Chris hovered on the other side. The walk was short but felt endless with your two drunken companions swaying and stumbling. Chris moved in to help whenever Matt nearly toppled over.

Every time his arm brushed yours, every time your shoulders bumped, the tension between you flared to life again—like an ember bursting into flame. It was maddening how your body seemed to respond to him, no matter how much you tried to tamp it down.

Finally, you reached your apartment building. You fumbled with the keys, grateful when the door clicked open. Inside, you guided Ava to her bedroom, where she promptly collapsed onto the bed. Matt, half-lidded and swaying on his feet, followed suit, flopping down next to her without a second thought.

You stood there, watching them, heart still pounding with adrenaline—or maybe something else. You could feel Chris behind you, close enough that warmth radiated off his body. The quiet of the apartment only amplified your awareness of him, every breath and shift in his stance sending your nerves sparking.

You turned, finding yourself nearly chest to chest with him, the small hallway leaving little room to maneuver. His eyes pinned you in place, a swirl of emotions dancing across those blue irises—conflict, frustration, and under it all, that magnetic pull you knew too well.

“So,” you murmured, voice low, “I guess you’re not leaving yet, are you?”

Chris swallowed, and for a moment, you saw the mask slip. “No,” he said quietly. “Not yet.”

You turned, finding yourself nearly chest to chest with him, the small hallway leaving little room to maneuver. His eyes pinned you in place, a swirl of emotions dancing across those blue irises—conflict, frustration, and under it all, that magnetic pull you knew too well.

“So,” you murmured, voice low, “I guess you’re not leaving yet, are you?”

Chris swallowed, and for a moment, you saw the mask slip. “No,” he said quietly. “Not yet.”

The tension hovering in the narrow space was almost suffocating, so thick it felt like you could reach out and touch it. But before either of you could say another word, a sudden commotion broke the moment.

A door creaked behind you. Ava, looking pale and disoriented, stumbled out of the bedroom. She blinked blearily in the dim light. You recognized that look immediately: she was about to be sick.

“Ava,” you said in alarm, stepping forward. “Oh no—”

But it was too late. Her face contorted, and she heaved forward. Chris, seeing what was about to happen, darted sideways to avoid the inevitable spray—only to crash directly into you.

“Shit!” you yelped as he slammed your shoulder. You lost your balance, stumbling back until the sharp corner of the wall made harsh contact with your head. Pain exploded at your temple, and you winced, hissing through your teeth.

Meanwhile, poor Chris was still caught in the line of fire, a portion of Ava’s vomit hitting his arm and splattering onto his shirt. He recoiled, muttering a string of curses under his breath.

Ava wiped her mouth, tears in her eyes, and mumbled something close to an apology. “I—I’m sorry… ‘m so sorry—”

You pressed a hand to your head, anger flaring as throbbing pain pulsed behind your skull. “What the hell, Chris?” you snapped, forcing yourself to straighten. “You didn’t have to knock me over!”

He turned on you, face drawn tight with frustration and disgust from the mess on his sleeve. “You were in the way,” he ground out. “I’m not exactly going to stand there and get covered in puke—though apparently, that happened anyway.”

Your brows shot up, temper sparking. “Oh, so that makes it okay to push me? You’re a real gentleman.”

Chris’s jaw flexed. “Don’t start with me. I’m not the one who can’t hold down a drink.”

“Hey!” Ava croaked from behind him, her voice wuavering. She slumped against the wall, looking miserable. “I didn’t mean—”

“Ava,” Matt’s voice interrupted from the doorway. He appeared with bleary eyes, hair sticking up in every direction. He took in the scene—Ava hunched over, you rubbing your head, Chris spattered in vomit—and promptly turned on his brother. “Chris, why the hell are you yelling at her?”

Chris took a breath, trying to calm himself, but the frustration was evident in every line of his posture. “I’m not yelling at her,” he said through gritted teeth, yanking at the soiled fabric of his sleeve. “But maybe try not to puke on people next time!”

Matt’s face darkened, protective anger flaring up. “Dude, she’s drunk and sick. Back off.”

A tense beat of silence followed, the four of you standing in that cramped hallway, hearts pounding, heads throbbing—some from booze, others from bruises, and Chris from equal parts disgust and fury.

You rubbed the spot on your head again, wincing at the dull ache that pulsed beneath your fingers. Ava slid down the wall to sit, eyes closed, still mumbling apologies. Matt hovered beside her, steadying her as best he could.

You pressed a hand gingerly to your head, wincing at the dull throb that had settled behind your temple. Meanwhile, Ava slumped on the floor, still half-groggy and covered in the remnants of her unfortunate mishap. Matt hovered next to her, one hand on her shoulder to keep her steady.

“Let’s get you two cleaned up,” you sighed, ignoring the furious pulse of pain at your temple.

Ava groaned but let you help her to her feet. Chris stayed by the wall, still looking half-annoyed, half-disgusted, but when Matt stumbled, he automatically reached out to steady him. Despite the tension in the air, the four of you worked together to guide your drunken friends toward the bathroom.

Once inside, you managed to get Ava to rinse her mouth while Matt hovered behind her, swaying dangerously. Chris stood awkwardly in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, that exasperated expression never leaving his face.

“Brush her teeth,” he said gruffly, nodding to the unopened toothbrush sitting on the counter.

“I know how to take care of my best friend, thanks,” you shot back, though your voice lacked its usual bite. Your head hurt too much to spar properly.

He rolled his eyes, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. I’ll handle Matt.”

You and Chris maneuvered around each other in the cramped space, exchanging occasional glares whenever you nearly bumped hips. Eventually, you got Ava’s teeth brushed—despite her half-hearted protests—and Chris convinced Matt to rinse his face with cold water, muttering warnings all the while about “not throwing up on me, too.”

By the time Ava and Matt were more or less presentable, both of them looked ready to pass out on the spot. You guided Ava back to her bedroom while Chris helped Matt stumble in behind her. They collapsed onto the bed, Matt’s arm draped protectively over Ava’s waist, and within seconds, both were out like lights.

You stood there for a moment, catching your breath, still nursing the throbbing pain in your skull. Chris lingered behind you, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“You alright?” he asked finally, voice lower now that Matt and Ava were asleep.

Your head still pounded, but there was no ignoring the fact that Chris’s shirt was splattered with sink water and vomit stains. “I’ll live,” you muttered, pressing your fingers gingerly to your temple.

He huffed, his tone edging into that familiar snark. “You sure? Looked like you smacked your head pretty hard.”

“I wouldn’t have smacked it if you hadn’t used me as a human shield,” you shot back, though there was more weariness than heat in your voice.

Chris dragged a hand across his jaw, clearly wrestling with another sarcastic comeback. But instead of firing off a retort, he let out a frustrated groan. “This shirt is disgusting,” he grumbled, glancing down at the dark splotches. With a brusque motion, he yanked it over his head.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him bare-chested—this close, the hallway lighting throwing every muscle into relief. You tried to be discreet, but your gaze couldn’t help but linger on the defined planes of his chest, the way his shoulders had broadened since high school. You forced yourself to snap out of it, shifting your eyes quickly back to his face, hoping he hadn’t noticed the heat creeping up your cheeks.

He shot you a quick look that might have been amusement or annoyance, you couldn’t tell. “What?” he asked, almost daring you to say something.

You cleared your throat, ignoring the traitorous flutter in your stomach. “Nothing. Let’s just… get you cleaned up.”

Without another word, you led the way to the kitchen, pressing a hand against your throbbing head as you walked. Chris followed with the soiled shirt balled in one hand.

“Sit,” he ordered once you reached the small table, his voice unusually gentle.

Too tired to bicker, you sank into a chair. Chris rummaged in the freezer and emerged with a bag of frozen peas, wrapping them in a kitchen towel. He offered it without meeting your gaze.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, pressing the makeshift ice pack to your temple. The cold relief was almost instantaneous, dulling the worst of the ache.

Chris turned toward the sink to rinse out the vomit-stained shirt, muscles in his back flexing as he scrubbed the fabric. You found yourself staring again, and you silently cursed the unwelcome rush of heat that flooded you from head to toe.

Trying to distract yourself, you forced your gaze elsewhere. “Let me… let me grab some dish soap,” you said, pushing yourself up. A bolt of pain in your head nearly made you stumble.

He cut you a sideways glance. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you muttered. But the sudden movement left your head throbbing again, so you settled for just handing him the soap from the counter.

He muttered his thanks, squeezing a little onto the shirt and scrubbing at the stain. The quiet felt thick, loaded with tension that had nothing to do with the earlier chaos.

You tried to focus on the peas pressed to your temple, but your eyes kept wandering. Finally, you gave a short laugh, more at yourself than at him. “You know,” you said, “for a guy who’s half-naked in my kitchen, you’re pretty grouchy.”

He snorted softly, still working on the shirt. “Guess you bring out the best in me.”

A spark of irritation lanced through you, though it was tempered by the undeniable awareness of just how good he looked—tanned skin, toned arms, the faint spattering of freckles you remembered from years before. “You’re not exactly a delight either,” you shot back, pressing the ice pack firmly against your head.

He finished rinsing and wringing out his shirt, then turned off the faucet. Water dripped across his arms, sliding down the lines of his muscles. You forced yourself to keep your eyes level with his, ignoring the tilt in your stomach.

After a moment, Chris set the damp shirt aside and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He eyed you for a second, then jerked his chin at the peas you clutched. “How’s the head?”

“Haven’t had any complaints,” you smirked and his eyes widened at your innuendo.

You laughed at his reaction but actually answered the question this time. “It’s a little bit better, though.”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair, obviously uncertain where to go from here. “Look,” he said, voice quieter now, “about earlier. I wasn’t trying to push you. I just—”

“Didn’t want to get puked on,” you finished for him. “Yeah, I got that memo.”

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “I’m sorry if I knocked you over.”

You held his gaze, a wry smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “You’re forgiven. Now, are we done acting like idiots, or do we want to keep this up all night?”

A muscle flickered in his jaw, and for a second you thought he’d snap back with another sarcastic remark. But he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nah,” he said softly. “I’m good.”

An awkward beat passed, the both of you taking stock of what remained. Matt and Ava were unconscious in the next room, you had a knot forming on your head, and Chris was half-naked in your kitchen, still dripping water.

“Well,” you said, pushing your chair back, “I guess we should try to sleep. Unless you want to stay up and make sure no one else hurls on you.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “I’ll take my chances on the couch.”

He grabbed a spare towel off the counter and scrubbed at the stray droplets on his arms. You couldn’t help a quick glance at the way the movement flexed his shoulders, and you hoped your expression didn’t betray how flustered you felt.

“Night, then,” you managed, your voice a little tight.

Chris nodded, stepping around you to head for the living room. “Night.”

You stood there for a moment, the makeshift ice pack pressed to your head, watching him go. As he disappeared around the corner—shirt still in hand—you exhaled slowly, muscles taut from all the pent-up tension of the night.

The morning light drifted through the blinds, prickling against your eyelids as you stirred awake. The dull ache in your temple reminded you exactly why you’d gone to bed last night with a bag of frozen peas pressed to your head. You blinked, slowly registering the muffled sounds coming from the living room.

You pushed the blankets aside and slipped out of bed, wincing at the minor throb that still pulsed behind your temple. Padding into the hallway, you paused at the sight of Chris sprawled on your couch, arms folded over his chest. He looked about as comfortable as one could be when sleeping on a lumpy couch in someone else’s apartment.

He stirred at the sound of your footsteps. His eyes cracked open—still heavy with sleep but alert enough to narrow in on you as you stepped closer.

“Morning,” he grumbled.

Your first instinct was to snap at him—some half-baked comment about overstaying his welcome. But before you could open your mouth, he cut you off, lifting a hand as if to ward off your tirade.

“Before you bitch me out,” he said, “I’m waiting for Matt to wake up so I can take him home.”

A quick wave of annoyance flared in your chest, but you only sighed. He had a point—Matt was definitely in no state to hop on an Uber last night, and Chris wasn’t the type to leave his brother behind. Instead of biting back, you nodded reluctantly.

“Fine,” you muttered. “At least you didn’t run off in the middle of the night.”

He shot you a look, somewhere between exasperated and amused, but said nothing. A fragile ceasefire, at best.

Just then, you heard a low groan from the hallway. Ava appeared, bleary-eyed and leaning heavily against the wall as if the sheer act of walking was a Herculean effort. Her hair was a mess, and she looked about as hungover as a person could be.

“Ow, my head,” she mumbled. “Did anyone catch the license plate of the truck that ran me the fuck over?”

You grimaced sympathetically. “Welcome to the consequences of your own actions.”

Ava rubbed her temples, squinting as she glanced around the living room. Her eyes fell on Chris, who was watching her with a mild, unreadable expression. She blinked once, twice, then turned to you, face twisted in confusion.

“Um… why is Chris here? Did you guys… fuck?”

Your jaw dropped. Chris actually closed his eyes like he was silently wishing himself elsewhere. After a beat of stunned silence, he cleared his throat. “Where is Matt?”

Ava shot him a mischievous smile despite her pallor. “Oh, you know,” she drawled, her tone teasing, “he’s probably hiding in my room because you two were up all night going at it.”

You and Chris both spluttered in protest. “Ava!” you snapped, cheeks heating. “We did not—”

She raised an eyebrow, wiggling it suggestively, but then cringed as her headache reeled her back in. “Ow. Okay, sorry. Too loud.”

“And too wrong,” Chris added flatly. “The only ‘going at it’ last night was you puking all over me.”

Ava’s eyes went wide, suddenly looking mortified. “Wait, what?”

You let out a half-amused snort, remembering the chaos. “You really don’t remember? You staggered into the hallway and threw up on Chris, then he tried to dodge and slammed me against the wall.”

Chris nodded, eyes flicking pointedly to your temple. “Which gave her that nice bump on her head.”

Ava cringed again, glancing at you with genuine guilt. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I… I blacked out.” She turned to Chris, noticing the faint dried stain still on his forearm. “Oh my God,” she repeated, horror-struck. “Did I really—?”

He shrugged, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Hey, a shower and about twenty gallons of soap later, I’m mostly fine.”

Ava buried her face in her hands. “This is humiliating.” But then, despite her headache, she cracked a small laugh. “I guess that explains why you’re in the living room, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, too, as the absurdity of the whole situation sank in. Chris let out a resigned chuckle, shaking his head.

“Believe me, I’d have been long gone if I didn’t have to cart Matt’s drunk ass out of here in a bit,” Chris said.

“I can’t believe I slept through all that,” Ava muttered. “Did I at least apologize?”

“Yes,” you said dryly, “though I’m not sure how coherent it was.”

“Enough to rub vomit in my hair again,” Chris grumbled good-naturedly.

Ava groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Ugh. I’m never drinking like that again.”

Chris smirked. “I’m holding you to that.”

A wry grin tugged at your own lips. After all the tension and drama last night, there was a strange relief in being able to stand here and laugh about it—like all of you were finally exhaling.

“How about I make some coffee?” you offered, tossing a glance at Ava’s pale face. “I think we could all use a little caffeine.”

“Oh, God, yes,” she mumbled, rubbing her forehead.

Chris nodded in agreement. “Sure. Then I can drag Matt home to sleep this off somewhere that’s not your couch.”

The faintest hint of warmth stirred in your chest at the idea of him staying just a little bit longer—even if it was just for coffee. But you pushed that down, focusing on the task at hand.

“Sounds like a plan,” you said, leading the way to the kitchen. Behind you, Chris and Ava followed, still chuckling under their breath at the mess they’d all endured last night.

As you flicked on the coffee maker, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen once Matt woke up, once Chris left, once this bizarre morning after turned into actual daylight. But for now, at least, you had peace—and, surprisingly enough, even a laugh or two to share.

You settle around the small kitchen table with Chris and Ava, nursing your cup of coffee. The early sunlight streaming through the window does little to mask the awkwardness lingering from the night before. Ava, sporting a messy bun and still looking a bit drained, leans an elbow on the table and eyes Chris over the rim of her mug.

“So,” she drawls, voice scratchy with sleep but brimming with sass, “get comfortable, Chris. I’m gonna go wake Matt up, and it’s gonna be a while.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “You and Y/N can, I don’t know, get cozy and touch tips while Matt takes me to pound town again.”

You nearly choke on your coffee. Chris’s face goes through about three different shades of horror before settling on exasperated. “First off,” he mutters, setting down his mug a little too hard, “I really don’t need to know the specifics of my brother’s sex life.”

Ava just laughs, utterly unapologetic. “Suit yourself,” she shrugs, sliding off the chair. “But don’t blame me if you two get bored. Find something to do, or each other to do—whatever.”

“Ava, seriously,” you groan, pressing your palms to your eyes. “At least use protection, okay?”

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Yes, Mom,” she shoots back sarcastically. “You’re so thoughtful.” Then she winks at Chris for good measure. “Think of me fondly while I’m gone.”

With that, she downed the rest of her coffee, set her mug in the sink, and strutted upstairs to Matt’s room, shutting the door with a pointed click behind her.

An awkward hush settles over the kitchen. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, fiddling with the handle of your mug. Chris avoids your gaze at first, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck.

“So,” you say finally, deadpan, “that was subtle of her.”

He huffs a half-laugh, glancing up at the ceiling like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Yeah, subtle as a car crash.”

You both fall silent. Then, from above, a soft thud—followed by the unmistakable sounds of Ava and Matt… reacquainting themselves with each other.

“Oh, God,” you mutter under your breath, cheeks heating. You rub your temples, trying to will the noise away, but it only grows louder.

Chris grimaces, then tries to play it off with a roll of his eyes. “Guess they didn’t waste any time.”

You make a face, sipping your coffee in hopes the caffeine will distract you. “They’re in for round two, apparently.”

A moment passes, filled with an increasingly steady rhythm of moans that filter down the stairs. You and Chris exchange a glance—equal parts discomfort and wry amusement at the sheer absurdity of it.

He breaks the tension by arching an eyebrow. “Reminds me of some of our high school experiences.” There’s a dryness to his tone—like he’s testing how far he can push you.

You sputter, nearly spilling your coffee. “Wow. That’s a throwback.”

A half-smile ghosts across his lips. “Well, she’s not moaning as loud as you did back then.”

Heat flares in your cheeks—part anger, part embarrassment, and, annoyingly, part amusement. “Excuse you?”

He shrugs, crossing his arms, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Just saying, I’ve got a good memory.”

Your eyes narrow as you set your mug aside. “No one asked you to remember. And I’m pretty sure I was never that loud.”

Chris smirks, leaning back in his chair. “You can keep telling yourself that.”

“Ugh.” You glare at him, ignoring the slight flutter in your stomach that you really wish wasn’t there. “And here I thought we’d have a civil morning.”

“I’m plenty civil.” He lifts his coffee cup, giving a mock toast. “You’re the one who let your best friend invite me to loiter in your living room.”

“As if you had no choice in the matter?” you counter, eyebrows shooting up. “You could’ve left at any time—”

“Except for the part where my brother was drunk off his ass and still is, apparently.” He nods toward the ceiling, where Matt and Ava’s very enthusiastic “recovery” session continues.

You roll your eyes, even as a small twinge of guilt twists in your gut. “Fine. You win that one.”

He sets his cup down, a flicker of genuine concern crossing his features. “How’s your head feeling?”

“Better,” you admit grudgingly, resisting the urge to rub the lingering bump. “Still a little sore. You’re lucky I don’t sue you for damages.”

He lets out a dry laugh. “Yeah, good luck explaining that to a judge: ‘Your honor, he dodged puke, and I paid the price.’”

The corners of your mouth quirk up despite yourself. “I’ll have to come up with something a little more dramatic.”

His gaze lingers on you, a hint of that familiar tension creeping into the air between you. For a second, neither of you speak. The echo of moans from upstairs fills the silence, but you try to tune it out, focusing on Chris’s expression. It’s a mix of exasperation and something you can’t quite pin down.

Eventually, he clears his throat, looking away. “Anyway. As soon as they’re done, I’m taking Matt home.”

“Fair enough,” you say, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from his lingering stare. “I’m just glad he’s not making an even bigger mess down here.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

You share a moment of uneasy quiet, sipping at your drinks and trying to pretend the floor isn’t practically vibrating with Ava and Matt’s activities. Each moan or thump from upstairs seems to underscore the unresolved tension between you and Chris—like the universe is mocking you both.

You collapse onto the couch, remote in hand, while Chris drops heavily onto the opposite end. Neither of you seems particularly eager to be in the kitchen, where the sound of Ava and Matt’s increasingly enthusiastic activities upstairs is even more obvious. Even here, though, you can still catch the muffled rhythms and gasps emanating through the ceiling.

“Want to put something on?” you offer, brandishing the remote as a distraction.

Chris shrugs. “Sure. Maybe it’ll drown them out.”

You flip through streaming services, settling on some mindless show you’ve both seen before—something you can half-watch, half-ignore. Anything to keep the awkward silence at bay.

Except the background noise doesn’t stop. Ava’s voice floats downstairs in a series of moans, clearly not worried about volume control. You feel your face heat, trying hard not to picture what’s happening up there, but it’s impossible to completely shut it out.

Chris catches the faint color in your cheeks and smirks. “You okay?”

You shoot him a glare. “Fine.”

He snorts, eyes flicking toward the ceiling with a knowing tilt of his head. “I guess some people really enjoy their mornings.”

“Can we not analyze it, please?” you mutter, turning up the volume on the TV.

For a few minutes, the two of you watch the show in a tense silence, interrupted only by the occasionally awkward clearing of throats. On the screen, the characters are bantering, their dialogue a hollow cover for the more intimate soundscape filtering down from upstairs.

Eventually, Chris shifts, pressing his knuckles to his mouth as though suppressing a grin. “Kinda like old times, huh?”

You glance at him warily. “Old times… meaning what exactly?” even though you knew exactly what he was reffering to.

He lifts a shoulder. “High school. All that sneaking around we did.” He nods at the ceiling again with a wicked glint in his eyes. “Not that we ever woke the whole house up—but you sure knew how to make noise back then.”

A spike of heat floods your cheeks. “Oh, shut up. I told you I wasn’t that loud.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I distinctly remember having to clamp a hand over your mouth one time, so your parents wouldn’t figure out I was in your bedroom.”

Your crotch thrums at the memory, even as you roll your eyes. “You’re making that up.”

He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nope. That was, like… sophomore year?”

“Junior,” you correct quietly, the mental images flashing unbidden behind your eyes—late-night kisses, stolen touches, the muffled giggles when the floor creaked.

Chris spreads his hands, as though he’s proved his point. “See, you do remember.”

You hate the surge of warmth pooling in your stomach, especially with the unmistakable moans from upstairs fueling the tension. Your gaze flicks to him, noticing the way he’s tugging at the collar of his still-bare torso as if he’s feeling the heat, too.

Desperate to reclaim some composure, you turn back to the TV and raise the volume a couple more notches. The show’s bright laughter and goofy dialogue bounce off the living room walls. It helps—just a little—until there’s a particularly loud thud from above, followed by Ava’s not-so-subtle cry of Matt’s name.

You cringe, flicking Chris a sideways glance. His eyebrows are raised, and the corner of his mouth twitches with restrained amusement. “They’re really going for it, huh?”

“Stop it,” you hiss, trying to ignore the thudding of your own heart.

He chuckles, low and mocking. “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re blushing. Maybe it’s bringing back memories for you, too?”

You grit your teeth. “Yes, because the best soundtrack for nostalgia is my best friend hooking up with your brother.”

His gaze slides over you, lingering on the curve of your hips, the lines of your legs tucked up on the couch. “Pretty sure I’m remembering a different soundtrack…”

A fresh wave of tension courses through you, courtesy of those teasing words and the faint recollection of your younger selves entwined in the dark. You can’t help the jittery sensation in your stomach—part annoyance, part undeniable attraction.

“That was forever ago,” you say, voice a little tight.

“Was it, though?” he counters, his voice dropping just enough that the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

You scowl, holding his gaze even though your pulse hammers. “Yes, Chris. It was.”

From upstairs, Ava’s delighted shriek rattles through the ceiling. You stifle a groan, covering your face with one hand. “Oh my God, I am never letting her live this down.”

Chris laughs, and it’s surprisingly genuine. “She’ll do the same to you if the roles were reversed.”

“Probably,” you admit.

You try to refocus on the TV show, but all you can hear is Matt and Ava’s muffled moans, and all you can feel is Chris’s eyes tracking you from the other side of the couch. The air feels charged, like a static storm on the verge of sparking, and you can’t decide if you hate it or crave it.

Finally, you shoot him a sharp look, hoping to douse the tension. “Got something to say?”

He smirks. “No, not really. Just reminded that you and I used to have this effect on each other… and it was never quiet.”

Your cheeks burn, and you set your jaw, refusing to let him rile you up any further. “Keep it up, and I’ll crank the TV so loud the neighbors call the cops.”

“And here I was, thinking we could just talk about the old days,” he drawls, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his bare skin shifting with the motion. “But hey, if the thought of me dicking you down is too much for you to control yourself right now, then I get it.

You open your mouth to retort—except your heart is pounding and your mind can’t help flipping through flashes of those stolen nights in high school. The way his hands felt on you, the desperate hushes whenever there was a risk of being caught, the rush of young desire you never quite forgot.

Upstairs, Ava lets out another moan that makes you cringe and press the remote’s volume button a few more times. “God, they better wrap this up soon.”

Chris arches an eyebrow, smirk widening. “Jealous?”

Your eyes snap to his. “Of them?”

He lifts a shoulder, carefully casual. ‘You tell me.”

A beat passes, and you can’t help flicking a glance at his bare torso—at the taut muscles that were far less defined back in high school, the confident air that certainly wasn’t there as a lanky teenager. You snap your eyes back to the TV, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

He chuckles, and it’s a low, lazy sound that does nothing to steady your heart rate. You pretend you’re enthralled by the sitcom characters on the screen, hoping the next few minutes pass quickly—or that Ava and Matt finally decide they’ve had enough.

But as you stare at the screen, you find your mind wandering, remembering the feel of his lips on yours, that electric rush you once craved. And judging by the heavy silence from Chris’s side of the couch, he’s remembering, too.

You and Chris remain on opposite ends of the couch, the TV blaring in a desperate attempt to drown out Ava and Matt’s enthusiastic finale. Finally, the unmistakable moans and muffled thuds from upstairs taper off. A few minutes later, you hear shuffling footsteps on the stairs.

Ava appears in the living room doorway, hair even more disheveled than before, cheeks flushed. She looks from you to Chris, who’s still shirtless, arms crossed as he lounges in an almost-too-casual pose. Something in her gaze flickers—mischief, curiosity—and you realize she’s not missing a single detail.

“All right,” she says, stretching her arms over her head like she’s been in a yoga class instead of a bedroom romp. “We’re done. For now.” Then she eyes you and Chris. “So, did you two fuck while we were busy, or…?”

Your face heats instantly. “No!” you blurt out, a little too fast. “Of course not.”

Chris just huffs a low laugh, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. “No,” he echoes, nonchalantly. But he doesn’t deny the tension that’s been crackling between you both all morning.

Ava narrows her eyes, scanning the room. “Mmm-hmm, sure,” she says with a knowing drawl. She lets her gaze settle on Chris for a moment, then glances back to you. Though she doesn’t say anything outright, it’s like she’s clocked something beneath the waistband of his sweats—and is doing her best not to cackle.

Before you can overthink her silent observation, Matt stumbles down the stairs behind her, hair sticking up in every possible direction. He looks like he barely has the energy to walk straight.

Chris pushes up from the couch—maybe a little too abruptly, as if trying to hide any…obvious issues. “C’mon, man,” he mutters, grabbing Matt by the arm with more force than necessary. “Time to get you home.”

Matt, still half-asleep, doesn’t protest. He just mumbles something incoherent, kisses Ava goodbye,  and lets Chris steer him toward the door. Ava steps aside, watching them go, biting back a grin.

“Uh, thanks for the hospitality, I guess,” Chris calls over his shoulder, still wearing that faint smirk. He glances at you once, eyes lingering a beat longer than normal before he hauls Matt outside.

The door clicks shut. Silence falls—blessedly free of moaning and snark. You exhale, slumping back against the couch cushion. All the tension of the morning seems to settle in your shoulders, and you rub the knot at the back of your neck.

Then Ava whips around, hands on her hips, eyes dancing with amusement. “Holy shit, girl,” she hisses, scurrying over to flop down beside you. “Did you see the giant hard-on Chris had?”

You choke on air, cheeks flaming. “Ava!”

She throws her head back, laughing despite her obvious hangover. “I’m serious! Dude was packing some serious heat under those sweatpants. And you’re telling me you two didn’t get busy?”

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “We did not—no! Absolutely not,” you insist, shaking your head. “And can we not talk about…that?”

Ava props an elbow on the back of the couch, eyeing you like she sees right through your protest. “So you’re telling me he was just sitting here, sporting a massive boner, and nothing happened?” She snorts. “He’s still into you, obviously.”

You swallow hard, memories of the heated banter and near-constant tension flashing through your mind. “It’s not like that,” you try again, but the argument sounds weak even to your own ears. “He’s just waiting for Matt—well, was waiting—to get home safe.”

“Right,” she says, drawing the word out. Then she pats your leg in mock sympathy, still clearly amused. “You know you’re free to live your life, right? Even if it includes hooking up with your old…whatever the fuck he was.”

You set your jaw, refusing to meet her gleeful gaze. “He’s annoying. We bicker. That’s it.”

Ava shrugs, standing up to stretch again. “Annoying plus bickering can sometimes equal good, angry sex. Just saying.”

You toss a couch pillow at her, sending her into another wave of laughter. “Oh my God, you’re impossible.”

She catches the pillow and smirks. “And you’re in denial, babe.” Then she lifts her hands in surrender. “But hey, my job here is done. I’m all freshened up, physically satisfied, and apparently, I missed quite a show down here, too.”

Rolling your eyes dramatically, you bury your face in your hands. “I cannot deal with this conversation before lunch.”

Ava laughs again, patting your shoulder and leaning in conspiratorially. “Fine, fine. I’ll let you think about Chris’s, um, situation in peace.”

With that, she saunters off to the kitchen, presumably for more coffee—or to nurse her hangover with some Advil. You remain on the couch, heart still beating a tad too fast, unable to stop yourself from recalling the way Chris smirked when Ava asked if you’d hooked up.

Because maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as opposed to the idea as you claimed to be. And if Ava’s not wrong about the whole “obvious interest” thing, then the next time you see him, it might be a whole new kind of mess.

tags: @mattsobvimyfav

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[livwritesstuff]

boston pride is today so here have an edited repost from when i walked in the parade last year

Steve is getting boring in his old age (forty-four, almost).

It was inevitable, he supposes when he looks back, and he likes being boring. 

He likes the steady routine of the life he and Eddie (married for seven years, now) have built with their three daughters (four, seven, and nearly ten, a notion Steve is choosing to ignore because there’s no goddamn way Moe nearly has an entire decade under her belt already), and he doesn’t find himself making attempts to mix things up all that often.

Naturally, Eddie is the one to suggest they make the trip into Boston with their daughters for the annual Pride parade, and when he does, Steve isn’t automatically inclined to agree.

Look – Steve knows it’s important for kids to see the world and do new things and all that enriching shit, but maybe he still bears some of the scars from keeping a semi-feral pack of teenagers alive amidst the eldritch hellscape of their hometown, and it’s not like they don’t keep themselves entertained at home – Hazel had finally got the gist of Go-Fish not too long ago and that’s been a whole new ballgame Steve is perfectly content to continue exploring.

In the end, however, the logical side of him (and Eddie’s ever-persistent badgering) wins out, and come mid-June of 2011, they all make the drive into Boston to see the parade.

It doesn’t take Steve long at all to acknowledge that it was a good idea. He hadn’t been to Pride in many years (again – he’s boring in his old age), and he’d forgotten how much fun it is – a true celebration of love and happiness in the face of a lot of fucked up shit and all that. The parade’s pretty good too (definitely a few floats he hopes the girls are too distracted chasing after candy to notice and ask questions about later, but only time will tell), and so is the festival afterwards. It ends up being a really great time for all of them.

Of the whole day, though, Steve’s favorite part is the trip home, a drive that should have only been thirty minutes, but turns into nearly two hours with all the traffic on I-90.

The girls are still riding the sugar rush of an afternoon’s worth of lemonade and fried dough and candy thrown from parade floats (Hazel might be succumbing though, if Steve’s quick glances in the rear-view mirror at the way her eyes are drooping closed are anything to go off of), and it seems as if the day’s contagious joy had followed them into the car. Robbie and Moe have been asking a lot of questions – mostly chatter about what floats were everyone’s favorites and who got the best face paint until Moe, perceptive as she’s always been, hits them with, “What’s Pride for?”

Which turns into, “Why do people think it’s a bad thing?” and that becomes, “So how did you and Papa fall in love?” at which point Eddie, who’d been fielding their daughters' questions so Steve could keep his focus on the stop-and-go highway traffic, launches into a dramatic and involved retelling of how their relationship had begun nearly eighteen years ago.

“So I told him that I liked him and what do you think Papa said?” Eddie eventually asks as he approaches the end of the story.

“What?” the girls ask with eager smiles and wide eyes.

“Nothing,” Eddie says ruthlessly, a wicked grin on his face.

“Alright,” Steve cuts in over the laughter coming from the backseat, “Let’s not be dramatic. I said something...eventually, and it wasn’t even that long later – four hours tops.”

“That’s right,” Eddie concedes, “And then we all lived happily ever after and all that jazz.”

“Good,” Robbie says, “’Cos if you hadn’t, today wouldn’t happen.”

“Hate to break it to you, sweet pea,” Steve replies, “but I’m pretty sure Pride would still happen even if Dad and I weren’t there for it.”

“We wouldn’t be here," Moe corrects him, "All together.”

Steve blinks.

Jesus Christ, these kids are gonna be the death of him. Can’t drive the damn car if his eyes are misting over, can he?

“Yeah,” Eddie says as he reaches over to curve his hand around the back of Steve’s neck, “Yeah, bug, that’s true.”

And thanks goodness for that.

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter 6}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: You and Joel make what you can of the life you lead in the zone, though the thought of more begins to form in your thoughts three years down the line.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, age gap (pre time skip reader late 20's and joel is early 40's, post time skin reader is 30 and joel is mid 40's), outbreak fic, 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), slight dom/sub vibes, topping from the bottom maybe?, sexual propositions, oral (m receiving), warnings of pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, references to off screen abuse, references to off screen assault (not reader), non con touching (not joel), mentions of past use of narcotics, illegal smuggling, references to death, lemme know if i left any out!

A/N: hi and bye (not back to posting on a regular basis yet but wanted to share this with y'all)

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

The ground beneath your feet tears up with the force of your running steps, panic and terror making you numb to the amount of noise you’re making as you try to escape from the man who had separated you from everything you had ever known. A shock of violence for your quiet group as they had settled for the night just as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The image of Frankie being slammed into the ground hard and the breath knocked out of him burned into your mind’s eye. Of everyone, the few still left scattered like bugs underneath a log that was plucked from the earth.

They had come out of nowhere, ambushed your little group a mere five miles out from the zone that you had escaped from at the first sign of trouble, of change. It had only lasted two years, the initial set up for protection and mutual residence. Safety in numbers, safety in routine, safety in working together to preserve what worked from a time past and figuring out what worked in the current time.

But it all deteriorated. You had witnessed it with your own two eyes, the fall of what people clung to, the fall of what little relic of civilization had tried to survive. Frank hadn’t wanted to go, always believing that things could get better, that they wouldn’t fall, that people were good.

He had been convinced when you told him about the officer that had cornered you and tried to force himself on you in exchange for a few extra ration cards. His stuff packed in less than a day and a group of three others who he was on friendly terms with quickly gathering supplies when you showed up at their doorstep.

You had been torn from him, voice hoarse from shouting out at the rough treatment. Distracted by the violence that had befallen your group, territory being protected, and people seen as a threat. The pack of food and supplies was ripped from your shoulders as a man took advantage of your shock, of your shouting for someone who wasn’t you. It was the last time you were ever that unaware of your surroundings. It was the moment that changed the trajectory of your life, altered the very person who you were supposed to be into who you would become.

“Now you listen here and you listen good, little girl.” The man’s breath was ragged as he leaned in close and pressed his hands into the soft give of your chest. Fingers curling in a suggestive manner. “You’re either gonna let me have my way with you or you’re gonna be of some other use. Don’t need no one who can’t earn their keep.”

“Then let me go.” Your eyes look past him, to where Frankie is being thrown to the ground underneath the persuasion of a shotgun. His hands are shaking, held up in front of him. Looking straight at the accomplice of the man who had set his sights on you. A spare glance from both of them, then the man is smirking before turning back to Frankie and saying something that steals all the color from his face.

“Not on the table. We got two jobs for you, it’s your choice which one you’re willing to do.”

“Neither.” You spit into his face, the hold he has on your arm tightening and beginning to sting, your skin smarting.

“Cheeky bitch,” His palm is sharp where it lands on your cheek, stinging. He roughly jostles you, pain blossoming. Throwing you to the ground, all you can do is try to keep the trembling of your bottom lip to yourself and the tears watering your eyes from falling. “You’ll learn to respect me, that’s for damn sure.”

He laid himself over you completely, face far too close, his hands running up and down the length of your body. They lingered in places they shouldn’t, fingers dipped underneath the waistband of your jeans and then settled again over your chest where he feels it in his palms roughly. Moving to caress your face, he croons at how young and pretty you are, unsettling your stomach and rousing bile in your throat. All you can do is force your mind to blank and hope that the others got away…

You feel the same tendrils of fear now, as your boots beat into the ground now. There’s an eerie feeling about the early morning as the rising sun paints the sky with deep pink and orange hues, the distant screeching of possessed beings chasing after you. The safety that’s slowly diminishing as you rush around chunks of concrete and avoid spokes of rebar reaching for you.

Joel isn’t by your side, having pivoted when a clicker ended up between you both. There was a meet up point, in case of separation. That’s where you were headed, even as you hear the runners behind you gain speed at the harsh breaths, you’re unable to silence as your lungs burn.

Your pack catches on the corner as you round a building that still remains standing, the fabric ripping and the contents inside spilling out. You trip on a canister of coffee, the roll of it just right to be wrong and you feel yourself begin to go down. A monstrous snarl is far too close and you don’t even think to look back as you use your hands to push off the side of the building and then shove off the pack, goods be damned. Your life was more important.

He would understand, you know he would, but you still lament the loss of the pack.

You’re suddenly pinned to the ground, a heavy weight on your back uprooting your center of gravity.

Snapping teeth and a deep, guttural snarling fills your ear and drives your heartbeat up to a painful notch. Your hands scrape on the earth beneath you as you plant them as firmly as you can and arch your back to throw off the weight. Gnarled, spindly hands rake down the back of your jacket but the lack of nails on the tips of the infected’s fingers allows for you to buck them off of you directly. As soon as they land beside you, they lunge, crawling toward you on all fours in a terrifying scramble.

The gun you had lays between you both, the safety off. Kicking out, the heel of your boot makes a sickly crunch when you land a hit on the side of the infected’s head. The action pulls out a grating howl but gives you enough time to scurry forward for the weapon and as soon as it’s in your grip you’re pulling the trigger once, twice, three times before the thing collapses on its front and goes silent.

But you don’t waste a second, you don’t think you even take in a full breath before you’re back on your feet and running once again. You can’t see the others, but you can hear them, can sense them honing in on the gunfire and their steps are loud as they careen to where you had been just moments before.

You only watch with bated breath as you hear the distant sound of echoing footsteps from end of the hall. The door to the stairwell pushes open, creaking for the barest of seconds until a single hand curls around it, securing a hold on the handle just so and lifts the door slightly to relieve the tension on the hinges. It’s quiet as it slowly swings open the rest of the way and Joel’s form steps through it.

Your stomach swoops and the tense ball of fear and concern eases in your chest. Because for all your snapping teeth and biting words, for all the brandishing threats of your knife and the deliberate pointing of the barrel of your gun, the power in your decisions – you do have fear. For him to transform into something even you couldn’t bring him back from. From him simply disappearing from you in a heartbeat and you’d be left with nothing but a body that was once warm and housed his soul.

Sucking in a breath to center yourself, you watch as he traverses down the hallway, carefully avoiding the little traps and deterrents you’ve set up over the years. Once he’s cleared the distance and through the door to the apartment that is the hideaway and meet up spot, the door is closed and locked securely behind him.

His hands are scrabbling at you, reaching and pulling you nearly flush to him. Joel’s expression is hard, but behind his eyes you can see the worry and concern that he’s feeling. The steel gray that streaks through his dark hair is more apparent in the sunshine that filters in through broken windows and crumbling walls of the hotel lobby. Prominent in his sideburns, the scruff along the curve of his strong jaw, and the dusting of hairs across his chest. There’s water that has built up over the years, from the rain that trickles in, green with a thick layer of film over the top. It’s not an adjustment anymore to reach for him when you’re overwhelmed, though your voice and instincts betray you in snarky comments and biting rebuttals all the same.

“You did good,” He rumbles, voice breathy as he pants to regain the air in his lungs. He had taken longer to make it to the meeting point, but he was here. He was okay. You feel the harsh beats of your heart begin to calm, your own breathing beginning to even as you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crook there. His large palms are sliding down your back as he kneels. Hooking underneath your thighs as he hauls you into his arms, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist.

“Nasty scratch there,” You notice the bloody line cut into the skin of his chest, where his shirt is unbuttoned at the top, his undershirt gone- it’s hanging back in your shared apartment on a drying line from when you had washed it a few days ago. Yesterday’s run was not supposed to drag and turn into an anxious and long overnight stay in the ruins of the city outside of the zone. Not supposed to be a loss, but a win for the collection that steadily grows between two apartments and three partners.

You knew things were getting worse, but this was the first time any run had fallen apart in such a fashion in a long while.

“It’ll heal, they always do.”

He’s littered with them, from runs and trips and even an altercation or two with Bill over the years. But he’s fine, he’s more than fine. He’s…he’s strong, capable, a force to be reckoned with. A big, silhouette of a man that no one would dare to mess with. He’s really come into himself more, defined a clear-cut way of business that he’s taken a more invested front in. You still head the smuggling, the deals, the runs, dictating when and where he and Tess need to be. But he’s definitely the muscle of the operation, the one that people deal with the most.

He's bowing to press his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, spurring hot sparkles to dance along your skin and mingle with the sharp adrenaline that pumps through your veins. Teeth nip sharply at your bottom lip, at cut of your jaw, the column of your neck as he walks you toward the small bedroom at the back of the apartment.

It’s desperate, the way he’s dropping you down on the aged mattress and grasping harshly to flip you onto your knees. It’s depraved, the way his thick fingers undo the buckle of your belt and the fly of your jeans, tears the material over your ass and shoves it to bunch around your knees. It’s reverent the way he skims his palms down the small of your back as he hikes up your shirt and trails them along your sides, feeling the handles of your hips that make him dizzy, the curve of your backside, the ticklish skin of the back of your thighs.

You can’t help the moan that floats from you when he drags his knuckles over the swollen apex between them. But he doesn’t take his time, this round, as you hear the clink of his own belt being undone you can’t help but arch your back more for him. He let’s out a small, breathy fuck as his attention focuses on you and you alone.

The rounded head of his cock is striking as it glides between your slick folds, his skin fire that catches and burns through you in the most delicious way. He’s sliding into you, taking the moment to slow down and catch his own breath, his fingers bruising as they hold tight around your hips.

“Take it.” Joel grunted, hips slamming into the back of your thighs. The heft of his body behind every powerful move pressing you into the creaking bed. The frame was little more than a board of plywood set up on some concrete blocks. The mattress is far too soft from years of use. But it didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was that he was upright and breathing. It was enough of a comfort in the hiding spot deep in an apartment building that still stands. The windows barricaded and the hallway lined with makeshift sensors to alert of anyone the second they open the stairwell door to the floor. “Such a good girl for me, letting me give you it to you like this.”

His hips slam into you, knocking you forward and one of your hands out from under you. A deep, guttural sound heaves from your chest at the new angle. As you’re bent and arched in a way that allows him to drive even deeper, to fill you even more. The thick feel of him has you fluttering around his base, your clit throbbing at the pleasure that crawls over your skin in a hot sparkling sensation. “Always love to see this thick, fucking ass ripple. How you let me do what I want, give me the chance to show you what you mean to me. See the way she swallows me into her tight, slick heat. God, you always feel so good. Better than any pills, better than any drink.”

He’s never been loud, at least excessively, but the mouth on him lately has even your head spinning. The walls he had constructed around himself lowering when he shared his space and body with you. When you shared your own with him.

You reach into the front pocket of your pants, still bunched around your knees. Taking a pack of travel tissues out and a single one from inside as you move to wipe yourself clean of his drying spend. Behind you he gets up to his feet as well, his thighs protesting the movement, his knees twinging at the weight of him standing. The barely audible pops and cracks of his body realigning itself after the rather intense actions catch your ear as much as it does his. A small groan rumbles deep in his chest as he gathers his breath, face turning away from you as he reaches down to rub at the bends of his knees.

“A little too much for you, hmm?” You needle, unable to help the saccharine coo from your voice as you turn around onto your back and look down to the end of the bed. Your chest is rising, heart racing and body singing as you still feel him all around you, his touch a brand into your skin.

“Ain’t enough, actually.” His teeth glint as he brandishes them at you before leaning over you to playfully nip at the end of your nose. Your eyes light up as a raspy giggle sneaks up from somewhere deep in your middle, the glint in his eyes sparkling as he takes in the mirth his action drew out.

“You say that, but your knees seem to want to argue that.” You lean up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing completely against him. He groans as your unclothed hips meet his, the press of your still slick skin against him where he hadn’t tucked himself away just yet. Another giggle sounds in the air and he’s mumbling underneath his breath, knowing that you’re trying to get a rise out of him with your taunting. He steps back, putting ample space between your burning bodies before he thinks better of it.

He’s approaching, eyes zoned in on the tissues in your hands as he comes up in front of you. You don’t try to hide your smirk as he snatches the small pack out of your hand, lips curling in an ill masked grimace before pulling one free from the plastic.

His hands are shaky, the adrenaline of the separation and then rather…enthusiastic reunion is draining, leaving him a mess of shot nerves. Cooing, you circle him and back his large frame up to the edge of the shitty mattress until his calves are pressed up to it. Locking eyes with him, you place a hand firmly on his chest and push him to take a seat. He does so willingly, body losing some tension as his backside sinks into the fabric.

“Why don’t you let me clean you up?”

“Already got this,” Joel tries and fails to fight off a yawn as he waves the tissue in front of him. His teeth snap shut with a clack as you kneel in front of him, shoulder your way between his knees, and press a caste kiss to the still swollen head of his half-hard cock where it bobs in his lap. The jingle of the belt he had re-looped is loud as his hips jerk, oversensitive where his pants had barely been pulled back up over his hips.

The pack of tissues falls to the ground as you wrap your lips around him and lick your own release where it saturated his entire length. A testament to what he does to you, what he still does to you with a single look. Casting your eyes up through your lashes, you can see the way his own flutter as he struggles to keep them open and trained on you. His eyes snap open wide when the hands trailing over his middle beneath his shirt caress the jumping muscles in his thighs, one wrapping securely around the base of his cock and squeezing while the other sneaks between your legs.

His deep voice rattles of endless praise and encouragement as you both find another crest together.

You move to pick the pack up from the ground, but his hand pulls you toward him. The action is too quick, your legs too weak for the sudden movement, and you stumble into him where he’s still perched on the edge of the mattress. His hands cup your backside, thick fingers digging into the skin as he holds you in his lap, your hands tight over his biceps for balance. His chuckle is dark as he murmurs something about wanting more time to see how much he can really tired you out before he’s leaning in to kiss you deeply. The scruff about his face is a soft hush against your skin but you revel in the feel of it.

Rough movements for a rough man.

The pressure of his hands disappears for a moment before he’s bringing them down to smack his palm to the flesh. Gasping, you look up at him to meet the playful look of shock on his rugged features.

It morphs into a smirk, eyes calculating as he watches whatever crumbs he can glimpse of your thoughts across your face.

It’s not uncharted territory, it’s not uncommon ground, the crackling intensity of shared desire. It’s a facet of your life now, hidden between the seedier parts of survival, fending for yourself and protecting what was yours every minute of every day.  The physical connection you found with Joel is equal parts exhilarating and daunting. A reprieve of the harshness of life in the zone, but it could just as easily turn into damnation alongside everything else.  

You lean forward and kiss him deeply, his lips bruising as they move against yours again and again.

He sneaks a hand underneath your chin and nudges your face up more. Eventually he pulls away from you and something different swirls behind his eyes that has your heartrate pick up again. Something you see more of as the days come and go.

There’s a depth to them, beyond his hidden emotions and easily displayed ones, as if he was feeling the minute shift in the air that was beginning to take place. One prompted unwittingly by the thoughts that were beginning to tumble inside your brain, one in particular more than others. The idea was a silent one, a personal one. A way to get out, a way to make your own little bubble away from it all. To be more like Bill and Frankie. You think his own mind may be on the same wavelength or that he at least senses the yearning that is beginning to glow in your chest.

“All you gotta do is ask and I’ll oblige.” The words are whispered, like it’s a secret that they exist. Only for you to hear and only this far away from the place you both begrudgingly call home. You duck your head, to hide the small glint of teeth that betrayed a satisfied grin, his eyes catch it anyway and he dips down to nip at your bottom lip in a teasing manner.

You could feel his eyes on you still, as you detangled from him with a lingering caress to his neck, his muscles twitching at the soft touch. His dark eyes always watching as they took in the way you jiggled a little to get the waist of your jeans back up on your hips, the movement making your chest bounce in your tank top.

“Hmm, sure know how to fill ‘em out.” He’s reaching to trace a finger along your collarbone, thoughts swirling in the brown depths of his beautiful eyes. Watching, cataloguing, cautious and on alert every second of every day. “Zone’s getting worse, with the change of the season.”

“Medical bay is already rationing the antibiotics and steroids. Hell, they have been but it’s more apparent as this…strain of flu or whatever wreaks havoc.”

“Don’t want you gettin’ sick.” You hear the unspoken sentiment in his voice, the worry he holds as you had shared with him one night that you have recurring nightmares of suffocating as your body works against itself. Tries to fight off sickness only to be too weak. He hadn’t understood at first, when you whispered it to him. He had thought you were worried about being Infected, of the cordyceps, which you were. But you had explained that you meant you were worried of finding your death in something simple, something completely preventable. Something that would reveal just how weak you were, how human you were.

He had fallen silent, when you explained it. You hadn’t pushed him to share his own nightmares and he hadn’t dug any deeper into yours, but you know he thinks of the exchange often.

Once you were both fully dressed, he pulls you into a tight hold that you wouldn't classify as a hug, but for him it was. You huff as the air is squeezed from your lungs. Your body tenses for a millisecond before relaxing and bringing your arms around him, around his middle. You rest your head on his chest, his chin going to rest atop it. You squeeze him back, just relishing the fleeting casual intimacy.

Knowing it was only a moment and the gruff commands and barks of words would resume the second you both stepped out from the abandoned building. The way he acted in public so drastically different from how he softened when he was alone with you. It had been years, since that first explosive argument and then whispered plea to let him take care of you, it had been a long journey to get to this point and you’d be damned if anything threatened the life you had made for yourself. The life you had made with the man you leaned into willingly and wholeheartedly.

Sickness plagues the zone, from the youngest to the soldiers. It’s nasty, the strain of influenza, and stronger than the medication that has begun to wane in potency the longer is sits in bottles and foil packets. There are no more shots to take, no more antibiotics or narcotics of medical grade. Unless you were willing to pay big, and even then there was no guarantee it would save you.

There are so many bodies to burn each day, you know it and Tess knows it. But Joel doesn’t speak about it, just wordlessly enters the shared apartment and immediately showers after his shifts. Emerges in cleaner clothing and makes a beeline for the hooch you keep hidden underneath a loose plank in the floorboard. Today is one of those days, he’s off at work to earn enough ration cards to make the deal of getting you and Tess medical attention to combat the sickness you’ve both come down with.

Eventually the sickness has found itself at your doorstep, catching you and Tess by surprise even with the extra caution you both exhibited around others. Makeshift masks, excessive hand washing, but it wiggled its way into your immune systems all the same.

It's been two weeks, neither of you able to work or do much beyond organize trades for him to do until dark. Both of you losing weight, with hardly any appetite and fevers that wane in intensity.

Despite feeling like the very little food you had been able to keep down all day was making its way back up your esophagus, you push yourself up from the couch where you and Tess had been going over inventory of all the items hidden in both your apartments when a soft knock sounded on the front door.

Getting a knife into your palm, a small security, you peer through the cracked peephole. A moment passes as you watch the young girl on the other side of the door fidget in her spot, looking down both sides of the hallway before down back at her interlocked hands in front of her. She looks vaguely familiar, like the girl that Joel had once given a thick handful of ration cards one random day and then every two weeks since then. The same girl that you see around the mess hall and on job sites that have to do with the more lightweight work to ensure the zone keeps up in operation.

He hadn’t said as much, but you know he watched out for her. Tried to prevent her from falling into the seedy dealings and scene of the zone that grew bigger each year. The trade of skin for ration cards and goods, for food, for protection too prominent a life for girls and women alike. Their bodies simply another thing they could offer up in order to survive another day. But you know she’s on his radar, though she had yet to set foot in your apartment or Tess’s.

And you didn’t think it was sexual, you trusted him on that front. No, it was born of a need to protect and prevent, much like the way he watched over you and Tess. Another part of the pack that he deemed important. You had asked, once when you first noticed her eyeing him up across a crowded street, if the older woman recognized her. All she knew was that the girl used to work in the speak easy sometimes frequented. That was years ago now, but you always made sure to save a portion of anything you managed to bake from the sorry excuse of supplies the cards still got you. For Joel to give to her, the errant thought of having her move in with Tess was unspoken but on all three of your minds the worse things got.

“Yes?” You crack open the door and peek through the space, but you’re opening the door completely and ushering her in as you spy the tear tracks that stain her delicate face. She’s so young, you realize, a decade younger than you for sure, two more than Joel. You idly wondered the reasoning behind his soft spot for her, but then you realize whatever spurred it also spurred the one he has for you.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know where else to go. And M-Mr. Miller said to come for him if I ever needed help. Is- is he here?” You turn back to look at Tess, her own curiosity controlled into an even expression.

“He’s run out for something after his shift, are you hurt?” You close the door firmly behind her. Securing the lock in place and taking a deep breath before you reached out to touch a gentle hand to her shoulder. She cowers, a small whimper escaping from between her pale lips. “Do you need immediate aid?”

“N-no, just…bruises that are fading,” She rubs at her shoulder, thin hand reaching up and exposing her wrist and the mottled skin there. Your eyes narrow at the sight, Tess equally, is focused on the girl now.

Fuck, she couldn’t be more than twenty…

“I-I don’t know how I was even going to tell him, so it’s probably good you two are here…” Her voice trembles, fresh tears trailing down her cheeks.

“What is it-” Tess starts, cautiously stepping into the kitchen as you usher the girl into a chair. Her knees knock together as she struggles not to bounce them or cross one over the other. The stilted way in which she pivots her hips tells you more than she had verbally so far and your chest pangs for her. Kneeling down, you gingerly place a hand on one of her knees and assure her that she’s safe here with you both. That she can tell you as much or as little as she is comfortable with, but that you need her name and at least a direction to move in.

“Jean, my name is Jean.”

“Jean, is-who did it?” You can see it in the way she’s moving, the healing that her body is still attempting to do. The bruises that have nearly faded along her neck and the way her eyes cut to every sound that neither you nor Tess caused. The older woman stands at her full height at the shift in your voice from cautious and on edge to thinly veiled anger. “Who hurt you?”

“I-it was one of the guys who I used to work for in the speak easy. He…he cornered me one evening after my shift at the kitchens. He-he-” She breaks down, her sobs creating a valley in your chest that you recall heaving yourself once upon a time. “He did this.”

Something is thrust into your hand, thin and long and plastic. You glance down at it, surprise and anger fighting for purchase as your chest blooms with something akin to fierce protection.

It’s a pregnancy test. And it’s positive.

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[thebiggerbear]

FANFICTION FRIDAYS

This week I moved the # from 32 to 38.

Here are my picks for Dec 13th 2024, please go give them a read:

Baby it's Cold by @winchestergirl2 - Alec tries to convince you to stay in bed. (Alec McDowell x Reader, Dark Angel)

Mechanic and Mistletoe by @deanwanddamons - Y/N, an ER nurse is driving home to her Mom on Christmas Eve. Her car breaks down on the side of the road. She calls Winchester Singer Autos and Bobby sends Dean to help her. Will she make it to her Mom in time for Christmas? And will she get back home in time for her shift on Boxing Day? (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader, Supernatural) Father Material by @wayward-dreamer - Curiosity from the public and media has Ben expressing his dream to be a father. Y/N wants to make his dream a reality. (Soldier Boy x Female!Reader, The Boys)

Before You Go by @lamentationsofalonelypotato - You thought you had it all figured out, but when a certain green-eyed stranger keeps showing up in your life and turns it upside down you wonder if it’s best to push him away or if you should let him in. Reader is a grad student in medical school that doesn’t know anything about the supernatural world. This is just a collection of one-shots that all take place in the same world. (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader, Supernatural) Smokey Snuggles, Zero Struggles by @syrma-sensei - Request: laying in his arms while he smokes (Soldier Boy x Reader, The Boys)

Unresolved by @nightxcreature - Reader finds Demon Dean on a hunt, but maybe she shouldn't have. (Demon!Dean x Reader, Supernatural) You Belong With Me by @justwhisperingfantasies - You're in love with your best friend, but he is with someone else. You try to move on when the new cute guy in town asks you on a date. (Beau Arlen x Reader, Big Sky) Wake Up Call by @zepskies - Sam often gets up before you in the morning. He enjoys luring you into the waking world. (Sam Winchester x Female!Reader, Supernatural)

Question...? by @collecting-stories - After leaving your home in Boston for a new life, a ghost from the past rolls into the same place and you can’t shake the feelings you once had for him. (Tom Davidson x Reader, Walker: Independence) Little Soldier by @lila-lou - Ben’s approach to parenting is all grit and discipline, just like the way his own father raised him. But with a little nudge from you, he starts to see that being a good dad is more than just teaching strength—it’s about showing love too. (Soldier Boy x Reader, The Boys)

One Time Thing by @bullet-prooflove - This thing between the two of you was just meant to be a one time thing. (Cordell Walker x Reader, Walker) Where the love light leads by @elizabethwritesmen - in high school, steve and y/n were the best of friends. now, she’s moved back to hawkins, and he hasn’t seen her since her graduation 7 years before. (Steve Harrington x Reader, Stranger Things)

Countdown by @quietlyimplode (Clintasha, MCU) Sunshine by @sethsclearwater - the (very) popularly requested sam uley smut (Sam Uley x Reader, Twilight) Rising Up by @waynes-multiverse - On a hunt, Dean’s girlfriend gets him into trouble in an underground fight club. (Dean Winchester x Reader, Supernatural)

Lucy Gives Up by @jayankles - When Y/N’s trusty car breaks down things get a little steamy so she takes Wanda to place hidden between overgrown grass. (Wanda Maximoff x Powered!Reader, MCU) Cute When You’re Jealous by @rootedinrevisions - Glen misses out on an event the two of you had planned to go to together. So a friend takes you instead, but it leaves Glen feeling a little jealous. (Glen Powell x Reader, RPF) Assistance by @ohsc (Sam Winchester x Female!Reader, Supernatural)

Tuesday’s Gone by @pamwritessometimes - When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined. (Russell Shaw x Reader, Tracker) fill me with colour; paint me blue by @vampiredaisiesss - it had become your routine. you’d sit in a shitty motel room, researching while the boys handled the monsters. and when the rough patch of the hunt was over, dean winchester would come seeking solace in your arms. (Dean Winchester x Reader, Supernatural)

Imagine recognizing the faith healer, Sister Jo, as your old friend, Anael by @supernaturaloneshots (Anael x Reader, Supernatural) Georgia Peach by @stxrrylunatic - You are a local journalist for the Oklahoman covering the multiple twister converge over central Oklahoma. Crossing paths with the adrenaline chasing and charming Tyler Owens was not in your agenda. Long story short: He finds you to be the sweetest peach in town. (Tyler Owens x Female!Reader, Twisters)

Lookin' At the Stars by @kaleldobrev - Beau takes you and your daughter out on a special family date to look at the night sky (Beau Arlen x Mom!Reader, Big Sky) Beneath Some Old Moon by @batsycline69 - After a close call with the Two Face Gang, you offer your savior–the mysterious Crusader–some hospitality. (Cowboy!Bruce Wayne x Reader, DCU)

Choices by @andreafmn - After the snap (Y/N) and Steve decided to shift their friendship into a romantic relationship. After the Battle of Earth, and Thanos’s ultimate defeat, Steve had to travel back in time to return the stones, but what (Y/N) doesn’t know is he’s not returning. The man leaves to his best friend the hard task to break the news to his lover. But what will happen if Steve returns in an unexpected manner? (Steve Rogers x Female!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, MCU) Duty by @asongofmarvelanddc - Y/N Myrrton is set to marry the King in the North, Robb Stark. Unfortunately, they’re both in love with other people. (Robb Stark x Reader, Game of Thrones) Neighbors With Benefits by @joelswritingmistress (Joel Miller x Reader, The Last of Us) Let it Snow by @nesillia - Day 4 of the Christmas advent (Negan Smith x Female!Reader, The Walking Dead)

Rescue Me by @caplanbuckybarnes - you vowed to rescue Bucky. No matter what it took (Bucky Barnes x Reader, MCU) Partners in Crime by @xoxo-author (Joe Velasco x Female!Reader, Law & Order: SVU) Her Little Stark by @insomniakisses (Cersei Lannister x Reader, Game of Thrones) These Bruises Make For Better Conversation by @bullet-prooflove (Ryan x Reader, Yellowstone) Breaking at the Seams by httplilyyy - sometimes even the strongest people need a break (Sam Carpenter x Reader, Scream) His Games: A Prequel by @foreverlilaclies (Shane x Rick, The Walking Dead) NSFW Alphabet: Leah Clearwater by @ineedmorefanfics (Twilight) Operation Christmas Couple by @janicho88 - Some of the cast members of Supernatural have been watching the interaction of two close friends around each other. Neither one will admit to there being anything more between them. With the most magical season of the year upon them, what better time to open their eyes? Brianna and the girls, along with some help from Jared have come up with just the way to accomplish that. But are Jensen and the reader going to cooperate, or are they going to foil their plans? (Jensen Ackles x Reader, RPF) Sweet Dreams by @luci-in-trenchcoats - After watching a horror movie at Jensen’s place one night, the reader can’t sleep and Jensen tries to help her get a restful night… (Jensen Ackles x Reader, RPF)

'Twas the Night... by @zepskies - Dean listens, sometimes when you least expect it. This year, Christmas begins to become something new for both of you. (Dean Winchester x Reader, Supernatural)

And please don’t forget when you come across any and all creative content on here:

divider by @saradika-graphics

[justlookfrightened]

Warm greeting

Filling a prompt from @shygryf: Tater and Bitty are papped and speculation abounds (can be pre or post cup)

Jack laughed when he first saw it.

He was at the St. Martins’ house, having a cup of coffee with Marty and Thirdy, listening to the girls play in the den while Gabrielle was at work, wondering what it would be like to have a house and a couple of kids.

He’d never really thought about that, not before this summer. Now, though, he was out of the closet — could never go back in the closet — and Bitty had been living with him since May, and it was … delightful.

Sure, it had been an adjustment. The condo felt crowded sometimes, with all of Bitty’s things everywhere, but that had gotten better when Tater had finally given up the guest room and taken his 6’4” body back to his own condo, and then, a couple of weeks later, back to Russia to see his family.

And sometimes Bitty chattered on, usually about nothing, or about baking, when Jack was craving silence.

But they’d gotten better at communicating what they needed when they needed it, and Jack had found his thoughts turning to a future that maybe … just maybe … included a family. With Bitty, who was already so good with kids. Marty and Thirdy’s kids all loved him.

He should really talk to Bitty about it before he got carried away. They’d never talked about having kids. Why would they? Bitty was so young, only a few years from being a kid himself. He still had two years of school to finish before they could even think about getting married.

Or maybe … Jack had known other players who married women who were still in college. It worked, they said, because the academic year roughly matched the hockey season, so they were busy at the same time.

Jack also knew a lot of players who got divorced after a few years.

“Earth to Jack.” 

Marty was waving his phone in front of Jack’s face, trying to call him out of his daydream.

“Looks like Tater got back okay,” Marty said, once he had Jack’s attention.

The phone showed a picture of Tater at the airport in Boston, arms wrapped around Bitty and lifting him into the air. It was from a local news site, and noted that training camp was around the corner.

The sheer joy that Jack read on Bitty’s face made him laugh.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I had a meeting with my agent this morning, so Bits went down to pick him up. I know he was a little worried.”

“Tater?” Thirdy asked.

“No, Bitty,” Jack said. “Well, he said Tater was worried, too, but … I didn’t see it.”

“About what?” Marty asked.

“About Tater going back to Russia,” Jack said. “After the Cup. Or, I mean, after I kissed Bitty. Because people knew Tater was staying with me … staying with us … and the way Russia has been cracking down on gay people. That’s why Tater didn’t do a statement in support of us or anything.”

Tater had wanted to, Jack knew. Bitty had talked him out of it, after a long phone call to his old skating coach in Georgia, who apparently still knew people in Russia. She didn’t actually know Tater’s family, but Bitty said they had friends in common.

“Figure skating’s a small world,” Bitty had explained. “Even smaller than hockey.”

“I was surprised by that,” Marty said. “I never thought he’d be homophobic.”

“No, he’s not,” Jack said. “But his mother and sister are still in Russia, and he wanted to see them, and he was already staying with me. So he decided to have his Cup day there, like it was important for him to bring it home to them, and then work on getting things in place for his mother and his sister to move here this year. He just found out last week that their visas were approved.”

Jack didn’t say how much work had gone on behind the scenes, with George, with his American mother, with the U.S. State Department to make sure that Tater’s closest relatives would be admitted.

The next time Jack saw the picture, it was on the phone Bitty was holding out across the breakfast bar while Jack did the dinner dishes that evening.

Tater had come for dinner, full of plans to look for a place for his family to live in Providence, to have everything ready when they arrived. 

“They’re not going to live with you?” Jack asked. 

“No, no,” Tater said. “Me, I’m keeping my bachelor pad. Anyone I date, they need to get along with my mama, yes, but not over the breakfast table. You understand?”

He left, wiped out from traveling, as soon as the meal was over. Bitty was sitting at the counter and scrolling through his phone when he sat up, eyebrows at his hairline, and said, “Really?!?”

Now the picture was on what Jack recognized as a gossip site, and the caption underneath said, “Moving on? The man seen greeting Providence Falconer Alexei Mashkov at Logan Airport sure looks a lot like Eric Bittle, who Jack Zimmerman said was his boyfriend after kissing him on the ice following the Falconers’ Stanley Cup win. But Zimmermann and Bittle haven’t been seen in public together for weeks. Did Mashkov steal this puck bunny away from his teammate?”

Jack almost dropped the plate he was holding.

“Puck bunny? Osti de tabarnak!”

He set the plate down and took the phone from Bitty to read it again, saying as he did so, “I’m calling my lawyer. I’ll get them to take it down.”

But his phone was already ringing.

Shitty.

“What the fuck, brah!” Shitty started. “Did you see —”

“We saw,” Jack confirmed. “I’m calling my lawyer. Puck bunny?”

If Jack was furious, Bitty was incandescent with rage.

“How could they do this!?! This could ruin everything! I have to call Tater.”

Bitty tugged his phone out of Jack’s grip and looked at the post again. 

“After everything Tater did all summer to smooth everything over. I mean, maybe I shouldn’t have hugged him, but I was so glad he made it back okay … and I didn’t even see anyone with a camera. Fuck, it’s my fault. What if his family can’t come anymore?”

Bitty was almost wailing now. Jack knew he was upset — Bitty didn’t usually use casual profanity like that — and he knew that he shouldn’t call Tater in that state.

“It’ll be okay,” Jack said. “You really think the Russian government looks at trashy gossip sites from Boston?”

“You really think they don’t?” Bitty retorted. “And I don’t know what your lawyer’s gonna do.”

“Tell them to take down the caption?” Jack said. “Sue them for defamation?”

“For what? Implying that I broke up with you and started dating Tater?” Bitty scoffed. “I love you, but the media law class I took last year — you know, for my blog? — I don’t think that’s actually defamatory.”

“Puck bunny?” Jack said in disbelief. “I mean, I saw the photo before, but it was one of the news channels talking about training camp. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Once again, you might see the caption as derogatory, but … they’re gonna say it was intended to be humorous. And we were in public, so no expectation of privacy. I hate it as much as you do, Jack, but you know they can take photos on public property.”

That, in fact, was why Bitty and Jack had not been seen in public together for weeks. Bitty had had a minor breakdown over not even being able to go to the grocery store without photos ending up online.

“But they still might take it down if they get a call from a lawyer,” Jack pointed out. 

“Yeah,” Bitty acknowledged. “They might. I’m just kicking myself for not being more careful. I’ll call Tater.”

Jack went to the closet he called his office to call the lawyer while Bitty called Tater.

“Tater? I’m sorry to bother you — I know you’re exhausted,” Bitty started.

“I’m fine,” Tater said. “You need something? Forget something?”

“No — I, um, I have to give you some bad news,” Bitty said.

“You alright?” Tater asked. “Jack’s alright?”

“No, we’re fine. It’s, well. It’s that there was a picture taken. Of us. On the sidewalk at airport.”

“Yes?” Tater said, sounding a little mystified. “I saw the photo hours ago. You look very cute. I look very strong.”

“Well, yes, but some other place posted it, and the caption makes it sound like you ‘n’ me … like we’re dating,” Bitty finally managed to say.

“Okay?” Tater said. “I know that is not true. You know that is not true. I’m sure Jack knows it is not true.”

“But what about … you don’t think it will cause problems for your mother?”

“Mama? No,” Tater laughed. “Mama — she told the people in Russia that she needed to come to the U.S. to — how to say — set me straight. That I was forgetting the ways she taught me and she and my sister must come so I remember.”

Tater paused.

“Don’t worry, she can’t wait to meet you! She just said that so they would let her come here. I saw the photographer and I thought the picture might help, yes?”

Bitty thunked his head gently on the kitchen counter.

“Tater, are you sure about this?”

“Of course I am sure!”

There was another pause.

“They called you puck bunny!” Tater shouted.

“Just saw it, huh?” Bitty asked.

“They should not say that about you!”

“Yeah, Tater, Jack is on that. As long as you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Little B. Going to bed. Maybe tomorrow you, me and Jack all go out together?”

[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

Your mama’s crying

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x daughter reader

Warning: death, angst, Ian Doyle, depression, Ian calling reader by her “name”

It had been seven months…

Seven months since your mother had passed, your best friend had died at the hands of your father Ian Doyle. Seven months of losing yourself and recreating a new version of who you once were, everything had changed once she left, even me.

I couldn't bare looking into the mirror to stare at the dark eyes, raven hair that I mourned the loss of so I dyed it. Pink. Purple. Blue. Green. Red. Before settling on a beautiful Blonde that she would've loved. I swapped my glasses for coloured contacts, it hurt to see the ghost of my mother in myself.

Seven months and yet it felt like seven years..

The first day had begun a month after mum had passed, I was curled in her bed my face smothered in her blankets that were slowly loosing her scent. Morgan had burst into the room throwing my gym clothes at me telling me to get ready, we ran ten kilometres that day only stopping at the lookout on the hill to yell out our frustrations at the world.

It became a routine of sorts and sometimes Penelope would join us although she couldn’t keep up with us as often. It was okay. We would be okay, Sergio clung to me more as the months grew almost as if he just knew.

I sat with Derek on the roof, his arm wrapped securely around my shoulders as we spoke "I miss her" I whispered curling myself into him more. "Me too, miniP' he kissed my head before resting his cheek on it"me too he repeated sadly "she'd be proud of you, you know that right?" | nodded biting my lip.

I hope she would be

Although I wanted revenge

I had graduated university top of my class with the team cheering me on in the crowd, how was I to see those two guilty faces. It hurt my mother not being in the front row like she was meant to but I imagined she had been.

My father loved me in a strange way

The team thought it best to use me as the bait to catch him, I called him to a cafe just a quiet one that I had visited him before at. Staring at him I felt nothing, his face was blank “whats the softest way to say you took away my friend, my buddy?. Whats the kindest way to say you took away my friend?”.

“You wouldn’t understand Alora” he whispered “so help me understand father” hopefully the team should walk in any moment. “It was simply fate my dear, we have a past” fate? Fate took my mother? My heart had shattering once more.

I wanted to scream and cry, throw anything available at him but I was just so numb and maybe he knew that as he leaned over. Placing a gentle kiss on my forehead before the team burst in “Je t'aime Y/n” he whispered I love you Y/n “Adieu père” I whispered. Goodbye father

How dare he simply call it fate

“Elle m'a enlevé ma fille”

She took my daughter away

I was bound to him, mum was bound to him

I was his daughter

It was all a blur as he was arrested, I had become numb but I knew I hated France it would never be the same I’m not sure Virginia could be the same anymore.

I never went home that day, finding myself at Penelope’s front doorstep tears streaming down my face. Her arms had become home I wondered if my mother would be disappointed in me- of who I had become.

“Oh my sweetheart”

I wished I could’ve told her sooner about my adoration for women of my harboured feelings for an older blonde that I had no chance with. I had an internship with the bau while I found a job that I actually wanted, I had plans just as my mother once had.

We had been called into the conference room, I stood near the back “everyone take a seat” Hotch sighed as JJ stood beside him. "7 months ago I made a decision that affected this Team." he said, and I knew immediatly that this was about mum.

"As you know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. The doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfilitration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know." he said and I felt sick to my stomach.

"She stayed there until she was well enough to travel, she was reassigned to Paris where she was given several different identities which we had no access to for her security." He goes on.

"She's alive?" Penelope asked.

"But we buried her..." Reid says hurt.

I had buried my mother

I had buried my mother

Yet she had walked into the room with a smile on her face as if these seven months had never existed, I had buried my mother for nothing. These seven months had been a lie, all the words JJ and Aaron said had been lies all those tender hugs and kisses were full of guilt.

I couldn’t help but leave quickly as mum made her way around the team giving out hugs unaware she had watched me go. I couldn’t be there, I couldn’t be in that room not with everyone so happy to have her back, I grieved my mother.

I mourned someone who wasn’t dead

Maybe it was selfish of me but I left the team that day, finally moved my things out of my mothers apartment now that she was back. I ignored her calls so angry she could do such a thing the same went with Aaron and JJ, how could they? my mother?.

The team had called me often saying how my mother had been crying, her sobs begging for me and maybe in some sick way she knew just how I had felt.

I laid with my head in Penelopes lap as I sobbed, her soothing hands running through my hair “I know it’s hard right now Y/n but maybe it would be a good thing if you started talking to her again”.

“I’m just so scared Pen”

“And thats okay baby cakes”

It wouldn’t be another two weeks before I worked up the courage to talk to her, Rossi was hosting a part while I had arrived with the blonde. Mum made her way beside me “I’m proud of you Y/n” she slowly placed a hand on my shoulder.

She took a deep breath in tears already staining her waterline “and I’m sorry, if I could’ve taken you with me I would’ve but Aaron had said no. I asked them everyday about you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be here I’m sorry, I put my little girl through all this pain”

She moved her hands to cup my face “my baby girl, and when you graduated Uni. I made sure Aaron got me a clip of you. I never once stopped thinking about you, Mon cher I love you”

“And I am so so proud of you” the warmth of her lips pressed against my forehead cemented she was real “I’m sorry mama” I cried. “I was just so angry, I didn’t mean to make you cry” she pulled me into her chest rocking us gently side by side.

After a while she chuckle causing me to look up confused “you and Garcia?” She smirked with a raised brow

[justrainandcoffee]

“Good Morning” (Tom Hardy x fem!oc)

Part 1 of the series: “Only for tonight”

Summary: It's 2012 when Hannah received a call from an important executive to work with them. She's a great musician only until that moment she didn't have the chance to really show her natural talent. The BBC offered her the opportunity to finally do it and at the same time the opportunity to meet him. || Three years later, everything is very different. Two different realities linked by the same phrase: “good morning.”

Warnings: None. Although there's some angst towards the end. || This is pure fiction. All names are made up except his. Even in future chapters all filmography named here was invented. || The story is divided in past (2012) and present (2015)

Words: 2.7 k. || Remember that English isn't my first language. Please, consider leave a comment or reblog considering this is the first time i post this and still don't know what I'm doing 👉👈🥺.

Three years ago.

Hannah Murphy was born in London a morning in middle of May. His father was architect, her mother owner of a several beauty centres and her eldest brother was a neurosurgeon now working in Boston, United States.

Big things were expected from Hannah. Maybe being a doctor like Eric, her brother, or having a PhD in Economics like one if her cousins because first and foremost, the Murphys were successful people. Her grandfather, Mr. Andrew Murphy, was the one who designed the building for one of the most important corporations that existed nowadays in England. So, considering that everyone had their eyes on her, even as kid. But Hannah W. Murphy wasn't born with numbers and theories in her veins, she was born with music.

"You're wasting your life," her mother said when she was 10 and her father accepted to take her to a conservatory of music to learn to play piano. "Look at Eric, he's reading books that are for advanced students! And you're nothing compared to him, Hannah. Music! What kind of shit is that?"

But Hannah knew, even when she was 10, that music it was going to be her life. And she was right.

"Your daughter has a gift," one of her teachers said not longer after she started to study there.

But Greta Murphy, her mother, insisted on study something that could give her a name in the future and her brother thought the same as her. The only one who supported her was her father, Andrew Murphy jr, who was also the only one who went to her first solo in a theatre when she was 15.

Hannah was 16 when one of her plays, composed by herself, was part of a local play. Small, but it gave her some money and the hopes that her dreams could be possible.

Yet, when she finishes school, to stop hearing her mother for once, she decided to study engineering.  During those years, she didn't stop writing music but she just kept it to herself.

At the age of 23, she finished her career and threw the diploma in front of her Great. Hannah never worked as engineer.

Teaching kids and offering her music to different people who was interested in her talent, she was able to earn enough money to rent her own apartment and lm have her the freedom she was craving for.

Seven years later Hannah Murphy, 30 years old, was about to face the biggest change of her whole life.

She was walking Solomon, her black staffy and the most brainless dog in the whole world, when her phone on her pocket started to vibrate. It was an unknown number but she answered anyway.

"Hannah speaking."

"Ms. Murphy?" A female voice on the other side of the line made her stop walking.

"Yes?"

"Good morning, Miss Murphy I'm calling you in name of Mr. Henry Atwood, he wants to have an appointment with you, miss Murphy."

The first Henry Atwood that crossed her mind was the director and executive producer the BBC had and the brain of one of her favourite tv shows the last years. But the idea of someone calling her and saying that  that Henry Atwood wanted to see her was ridiculous.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. Who's Henry Atwood? and how did you get my number?"

"Mr. Atwood, the tv producer," by her voice tone, Hannah believed that the girl considered her stupid. "I'm his secretary and I got your number because he asked for it to one of the directors you worked with."

"Scott?"

"Mr. Scott, yes"

If it wasn't because she was in middle of a park, Hannah could've screamed.

Travis Scott was a director working on a play and he asked her to help his team with the music. Finally after several failed meetings she ended up working alone and the final result in Travis's words was "the best fucking thing he ever heard."

That was four months ago but she didn't know that he knew Atwood and even less than he was going to receive a call from him. Or his secretary to be more specific.

"Ms. Murphy?"

"I'm sorry I'm trying to understand what's happening… I- the answer is yes! If he wants, yes of course I can. I just need to know when."

"Great. I'll make an appointment, then."

.

Two days later a very nervous Hannah was waiting for Atwood in the waiting room. It was perfectly tidy, with magazines on the glass table, some flyers prompting the movies and TV shows to come and some from previous months. The tiles shone reflecting the lamps on the ceiling.

Hannah felt stupidly nervous. Most people there arranged things thanks to secretaries or managers but she didn't have any of those. She had a dog without brain cells and she was sure Solomon didn't know how to talk. Although she did know that the staffy was the best to calm her and right now she needed his comfort.

Hannah would remember that day for the rest of her life. It was 20th of June, 11:30 am and it was a  guy talking about the European football league on the radio sounding in the background when he saw him for the first time. He was wearing a white shirt and jeans. He'd have been any other man but he wasn't.

"Good morning," Tom said to her who was sitting in the chair next to the office's door, so still that she wasn't sure that was even blinking.

"Good morning," she managed to say.

Don't be awkward.

Tom smiled before walking towards the elevator "call me, okay?" he said to the other man.

"I will."

Both him and Hannah look at Tom go. "Quite a character," he said. "You are Hannah, right? I'm Henry Atwood."

Hannah was still seeing the corridor where he disappeared from their sight and Atwood couldn't help but chuckle.

"Tom Hardy," she said "It was him?"

"Yeah, it was him. We hired him for future our project. And I have an offer for you, too, But please first, come in."

Hannah called Betty, her best friend, as soon as she left the building like if everything was a dream. All was so surreal that she needed something to drink and to eat to process what just happened. Both women went to a pub, ordered beer and fish and chips.

"The main theme?" Betty asked. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, I'm not!"

"Oh, my god! Your mother is going to freak out and probably pass out. Imagine her telling her friends about this."

"She's going to say that the BBC isn't Hollywood and no one outside England is going to see it. And probably she's going to say that the music is horrible."

"She doesn't know a shit about music."

"But she does know how to destroy people. Believe me, I know."

"Then fuck her. Don't tell her a word, better that way."

"I won't."

"But you already signed the papers?"

"No. I mean I said yes, but I need to make it official. I'm going to read it tonight and then sign them. Fuck me, I can't believe it."

Betty smiled at her Hannah couldn't help but imitate her. That was a good day.

Good morning.

Hannah was very tempted to say to her about her seeing Tom inside the building, but suddenly she felt really silly.  What she was going to say? Do you know I saw Tom Hardy today and he said good morning to me? Besides, it was something so random and something that Hannah believed that wasn't going to happen again that she felt unnecessary to say it.

Next week, Hannah returned to the BBC building with the papers signed and her hopes higher than ever before. Hannah was happy and it was good. Not long ago she ended a relationship that left her with debts, without her motorbike but with Solomon. The only good thing the bastard did was abandoning the dog in her house. Solomon was just an eight-month puppy, playful and sweet, but according to his ex, he was just a waste of money. As if he himself wasn't a waste of money and oxygen.

So these unexpected good news was exactly what she needed. And her first salary was more than welcome.

"There's a meeting this Friday. The whole team," Henry Atwood said. "Including you."

"Including me? But I have nothing to do with the cast."

"That's the point. It's not just the cast. There are always new ideas to add or to erase from the plot, suggestions, new plans. Etc… maybe you can create something even more great if you know what it's this about. Can you come?"

"Yes, I'm free, so… yes!"

"Good then!" Henry offered her a big smile and his hand to shake it "Welcome aboard, Hannah."

Hannah preferred to be one of the firsts to arrive there instead of being there late. It was her first meeting and officially it was also her first day at work. It'd be considered rude to be there late. Not to mention that the idea of people looking at her was something she wasn't used to. Not without her piano as shell, at least.

The meeting office was big and chairs and tables were in a circle so everyone could look at the rest.

Hannah couldn't help but felt nervous. The idea of working for them suddenly hit her in her face with fury.  On her first day at work, she had to leave the office and find an empty place to calm herself. She felt sick and she was hyperventilating. Her mother's voice in her head didn't help at all "You're going to fail, because you're a failure."

"Look at your brother, head of the surgeon committee of Boston."

"Your music is quite mediocre."

"Shut up! Shut up!" she said to herself resting her forehead on the cold window that was in that corridor. The last thing she needed that special day was her mother and her awful vibes with her. "Please, go away."

Hannah closed her eyes and tried to think about good things. Her dog, her best friend, her piano… she imagined herself sitting in front of it and tried to breathe normally again.

"Are you okay?" A male voice brought her again to reality.

Hannah gasped and back off surprised by the unexpected company.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry," he said.

It took Hannah few seconds to recognise that Tom was in front of her, but when she did it, she rushed to reply. "Yes, yes. I- uhm, I was nervous and I felt anxious. I needed to clean my mind. It happens, from time to time."

"Are you sure?"

Hannah nodded as Tom walked to the water dispenser and offered seconds later a glass of water.

"Thanks," she said smiling briefly.

People tend to see celebrities as deities, not humans. Because of course they're people but also, they're beyond of what could be considered approachable. Not everyone could be near one. And suddenly Hannah was few inches away from a famous actor that seemed to be concerned about her. Like, indeed, any good person in the world could be worried about another. Famous or not.

"I started today," Hannah said "I think my brain felt I couldn't do it."

"It's normal, a new job make everyone feel nervous. You'll be fine. You'll see. What's your name?"

"Hannah Murphy."

"The composer," Tom said. His voice denoted surprised and he smiled at her "Henry talked a lot about you. You're a little celebrity here."

"Oh, please, no! I'm just- I'm not. I Just play the piano."

"It seems to me that more than that. Were you in the meeting?"

"I tried to be there before feeling sick."

"Come on, Hannah. They'll love you, don't worry about it."

Tom smiled at her again and something in his reassuring made her feel better. Together they entered in the meeting room.

___

Now. Three years later.

The apartment was still dark, the windows were closed despite the morning was a reality. She could hear the cars, people… even birds. Everything was the proof that outside those walls nothing changed.

Hannah didn't sleep in the whole night in that bed  that now semeed to be awfully big for her. The empty spot.

She didn't want to cry again, but new tears appeared in her eyes.

Where was her morning kiss on her shoulder? The beard tickling her skin? The "let's stay five more minutes"? His morning coffee, too strong for her taste, but whose smell was synonymous with the beginning of a new day?

It's not like Hannah didn't break up with another person before… but never before everything hurt that way.

Tap tap tap.

Solomon was wagging his tail against the wooden floor because he saw her moving in bed. Against all odds, she smiled briefly. She pat the mattress and the dog didn't waste time to jump and snuggle with her in a single motion. His big head was now on her chest and she caressed it with her hand.

"You're hungry, aren't you?"

The animal looked at her. He didn't know anything about broken hearts, empty beds and tears. But he could feel her sadness. He'd wait for his breakfast until she felt better. Solomon settled closer to her.

It was 10am when she finally decided to go out of bed. The sun was shining, the city was indeed awake long time ago. Looking through the window she'd say that everything was the same. Only it wasn't.

Her phone was full of messages from her family and friends. Especially Betty. But Hananh didn't have the energy to deal with them, especially not her mother that for sure was ready to say that she was nothing but a disgrace, not even smart enough to keep a relationship with the best man she ever found. And for the first time in her life, Hannah hated the feeling that her mother was right.

She sat on her couch with a cappuccino mug in her hands and some toasts on a plate. On a chair on the opposite side of the living room still was one of his T-shirts, one that she stole from his wardrobe and ended its days as her pyjamas. She didn't use it for a while and she didn't want to touch it now, afraid that it'd smell like him.

The memories of the previous night overwhelmed her. It was her fault, she knew. For being too weak. Her mother was right, she wasn't like the rest of them, never was.

The sound of a new message caught her attention. She didn't need to see who it was. That was his ringtone, she personalized it long time ago.

Hannah took her phone and read the message.

[Can we talk? Ily]

Hannah pictured Tom in his house with his own dog next to him. His phone next to his nose because probably his glasses were somewhere where he couldn't find them.

She ruined it.

She received a new message from him.

[Pooh, let's talk]

Hannah broke into new tears when she read her nickname. No one before him ever called her Pooh. And everything started the moment he knew her second name was Winifred. Winnie. Hannah hated the name and she always used just the W, as reference for it. But with Tom, Hannah learnt to love her second name, even before dating. Or maybe it was because it was him.

Hannah called Tom.

He answered before the second ring, for a moment no one talked until he did "Good morning, Pooh."

[vickytaa]

Music keeps me alive. M.S. Chapter IV

sumerry: y/n's father passed away, and she moved to Boston to finish school. She always keeps her headphones on, only she knows the reason why. What happens when she meets Matt?

Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III

Y/n Pov:

I was never a big fan of parties, especially when I didn't know anyone, but being next to Matt always calmed me down a bit. After the thing with Emily, everything felt weird and uncomfortable, but the guys quickly noticed it on my face and made me feel at ease again.

“Honey, I'm going to the bathroom, I'll be right back,” I told Matt, who kissed me on the forehead and let go of my hand so I could go. It didn't take long, or well, a little bit. I just did my business and touched up my makeup a bit, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to go back out. The party wasn’t bad, and getting to know the guys' friends better is great, it's just that I was tired and I've never been one to go to these parties, but if Matt liked it and it made him happy, obviously I was going to go with him.

As I walked in, I was met with a crowd of sweaty bodies dancing together, which made me a little uncomfortable. But when I found Nick talking to Chris, everything else faded away. Reaching the circle where everyone was chatting, I saw him. Matt was wrapping his arm around Emily's waist, just like he used to with me. He must have made a mistake. But how could he not realize it wasn't me? Maybe he'd just had too much to drink... But Matt doesn't drink much. I was approaching them when I saw Emily grab his jaw and kiss him. He didn't pull away, he kissed her back. How? Why? Didn't anyone notice that I wasn't the one with Matt?

Without realizing it, my eyes had filled with tears and some rolled down my cheeks. My breath caught in my throat. My heart ached. Those few seconds of their kiss felt like years to me. I felt invisible, until Matt heard a sob coming from me and turned around. That's when he realized that the girl he was kissing wasn't his girlfriend, it was Emily.

I was in shock, my world was falling apart, again. "What? Y/n?" I heard Matt say, looking completely confused. I had trusted him, I had told him things about myself that I never thought I would tell anyone else. I couldn't think of anything else, I wanted to get out of there, away from everything, from everyone, lock myself in my room and never come out. So I did, I turned around and started running through the crowd, while I heard Matt shouting for me to stop as he ran after me.

"Y/n! Wait!" Matt repeated, his voice desperate. I had managed to get out of the house, but hearing him cry made me unable to contain my pain and I turned around, this time stopping. "Y/n, I- I didn't- I didn't realize that... that it wasn't you. I had too much to drink and when she..." Matt started to speak, trying to explain what happened, but I couldn't take anymore pain, so much betrayal, so much everything. "No, Matt!" I tried to interrupt him, but I couldn't. He had come very close and grabbed my arms tightly, afraid I would leave. "I thought you had already come back and..." "Matt! Stop!" I yelled, now desperate because I couldn't escape. Matt stood still, slowly raising his gaze that was fixed on the floor to meet mine. My tears were now falling uncontrollably, despite my enormous effort to stop them. "Matt, let go of me," I said, now in a softer, lower tone. But he didn't let go. "I don't want you to leave Y/n. Please," Matt started begging me not to leave, which hurt me even more, but I had to stay strong and respect myself. "No, Matt. Now let me go," I said again in the same tone. "No, no, no, please don't go, I need you," Matt said as he began to kneel in front of me. He was crying uncontrollably, begging me please not to leave, grabbing my legs. "Matt let go of me!" I shouted and my voice cracked.

Hearing my voice crack, Matt let go of me. I quickly ran away from there, not wanting to hear anything else from anyone. I didn't know where I was going or how long I was going to walk, all I knew was that at that moment I needed my dad. He had always been there for me in the best and worst of times, always trying to make me feel better. Even though sometimes I didn't quite understand what he was saying, he always found a way to see the good in the situation, or a way to make me feel good, no matter how bad the situation was. For example, when my cat Sherlock died, he made sure to be there for me the whole month, giving me gifts, affection, making me laugh, despite the fact that I wanted to cry, among many other things that I had never realized I needed until he was gone.

And that left a huge void in me, a pain in my chest, a sadness and a need for him to come back, not at 2 in the morning at my lowest point of mental breakdown, but when I was laughing with my cousins while playing at the last family dinner all together.

I didn't need the music. When I said it kept me alive, it was a lie, what kept me alive was the memory of my dad. The countless nights I spent sleeping in his arms while listening to his favorite records, the road trips singing at the top of our lungs while mom laughed at how much we were alike, that's what kept me alive.

After an hour of walking in the middle of a neighborhood I didn't know, I decided to order an Uber home. The ride was quick, I got home and opened the door, still in costume. "Hi honey! How-" My mom started talking until she looked into my eyes. "What happened to you? Are you okay?" She started asking me a million questions, but I wasn't really listening. I couldn't feel anything but pain. Why does something bad always have to happen when I'm having a good time? It broke my heart to see myself so vulnerable in front of my mom, not knowing what else to do but wanting to run away from everything, like we had done when Dad died. My mom understood that I wasn't going to talk now so she hugged me. She knew I needed my father there, and maybe that wasn't something he would have done, but now he wasn't there and she had to find a way to make me feel a little better. I was crying uncontrollably, and my mom's hug made me cry more, but it helped me, because I felt more comfortable expressing my feelings, I felt accompanied, I felt at home. After a while hugging, my mom helped me go to bed and lay down next to me. Maybe I'll never say it, but I was very grateful to her.

That night, I could sleep very little, so my mom let me sleep a couple more hours and then try to talk about what happened yesterday. When I woke up, I stretched and grabbed my phone. There were thousands of messages and missed calls from Matt, but I couldn't even start looking at them when my eyes started to fill with tears again. I decided that maybe I wouldn't want to see my phone for a few days, so I just turned it off and got out of bed. My mom was making breakfast, like every day. "Good morning, my love. How are you feeling?" she asked. How do I feel? It was my time to speak, to explain everything that had happened, to talk about everything that has been happening to me lately since Dad died, to talk about my desire to leave, to talk. But who cares? If I have a problem, the problem is mine and I have to solve it myself, if I talk to someone I'm sure I'll bother them, I can't talk. If I talk, I cry. Why can't I explain what I feel like everyone else?

I simply swallowed my urge to cry and nodded. I sat down for breakfast and just sat there, staring at the plate of food in front of me. "Y/n, please," Mom said without explanation. I started eating. When I finished, I went upstairs to go back to sleep. I had nothing else to do. When I got up, I would just stare at the ceiling, not knowing what to do. Read? I couldn't form a complete sentence in my mind. Listen to music? I can't even hear my own thoughts. Talk to someone? I cry.

The moments from last night replayed over and over in my mind. The turn the night took, before we went out we were all doing great, happy, and at the end we didn't even leave the party together. I wonder what Matt is thinking, what he's doing. Is he thinking about me? Why would he think about me now if he didn't think about me before kissing Emily? God. I need to sleep and never wake up again.

The emptiness inside me grew bigger and bigger. I don't know if I'll ever trust anyone again. I feel broken and alone, as if the world around me is falling apart and there's nothing I can do but watch it crumble. I don't understand why he would want to make me believe he was in love with me and that he loved me only to break my heart. A big part of me wanted to talk to him and tell him what a jerk he is, the other part wanted to believe that it was an accident and that there's still hope.

The following days were the same, I only left my room to eat or go to the bathroom, I missed a whole week of school, I left my phone off, in short, I disappeared for everyone except my mom. She understood that I didn't want to go to school now because I didn't want to see Matt's face, but she refused when I asked if we could move because if I did anything here it reminded me of him, and that hurt me a lot. "No, honey, we're not moving again." I was crying again, begging her to leave. "Mom, please!" I said in my broken voice, full of pain. My mom's heart broke seeing me like that, but she couldn't take a step back again. "Honey, listen, when your father... passed away, I couldn't go back home because I was afraid of having to start over without him. He was the engine of my life." Her eyes began to fill with tears, she paused to catch her breath and spoke again, "That's why we moved, because I couldn't go back home and see all his things. But now that some time has passed, I could think about it better and I think maybe it wasn't the best thing on my part, because with that I taught you that if something bothers you you have to run away from it, and no, you have to talk. I barely knew Matt, but he seems like a good guy, and it shows that he really loves you and would never do anything to make you feel bad." She finished and I saw a tear fall and roll down her face. "Mom..." I said in a weak voice. "Honey, talk to him." "I... I can't," and with that I ran to my room and locked myself in again.

When the weekend arrived, I found myself out of my room, in the living room, listening to music again after so many days. As the first song was about to start, I heard the doorbell ring. Who was it? I wondered. Honestly, I didn't want to see anyone, especially at that moment, because I had red and swollen eyes, my hair in a messy bun, a big t-shirt and shorts.

But I didn't think about it much either, so I quickly got up from the couch and walked to the door. The doorbell rang again, it seemed like the person behind the door was desperate. "I'm coming!" I said, a little annoyed by the impatience. I opened the door and there was Nick, who looked very worried, and as if he had been crying, but little compared to what I had cried. "Y/n, I need help," Nick said. I knew this was serious, because he went straight to the point, without greeting or anything. Before I could ask, Nick explained what was happening: "Matt... he's not eating, he's not talking, he won't leave the room, Y/n please, we've tried everything, but-" I interrupted him, "Wait, wait, what happened to him?" I couldn't believe it, Matt was bad, very bad. Could it be because of...? "When you ran out that night, we went after Matt and found him crying on the floor. We took him home, we tried to talk to him, but he doesn't answer, he just locked himself in the room and won't come out. I'm afraid he's going to do something bad. I'm scared, Y/n."

I knew what happened between us had affected him, but hearing it from Nick? This is terrible. Nick is never afraid of anything. I knew I had to do something to help his brother, as much as it hurt me, Nick and his brothers were still my friends and seeing him so devastated broke my heart.

I tried to calm him down a bit, we spent some time together, but my mind was fixed on Matt, I had to help him. So when Nick left, I turned on my phone, after a few days off. And there were millions of messages from Matt, of all kinds, but they all ended with an 'I love you, I'm sorry'. I can't deny that my heart didn't break as I read the messages.

I couldn't wait any longer, there was no more time, I changed into a more comfortable outfit, greeted my mom and left the house, to head towards the triplets' house.

a/n: I cried writing this chapter. What happens when she goes to their house? I can't wait

love yall:))

[sidekick-hero]

I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her

Written for @steddieangstyaugust day 3, prompt “The sunset looks lovely, don’t you think?”

tags: future fic, pining, not actually unrequited love, angst with a happy ending, Eddie Munson needs a hug

words: 2.5k | AO3 | rated: teen

Eddie had sworn to himself that he was done being a coward. He didn’t run from the demo-bats, and he wouldn’t run away ever again.

That’s why he decided to call Paige once he got out of the hospital in 1986. Years had passed since things ended rather abruptly and dramatically between them. He had left her hanging, even though there hadn’t been much he could have done about it, what with his dad dragging him into his shitshow of a criminal life. She still had paid his bail when he was arrested because of his dad’s scheming, even though he couldn’t join her in LA to audition for her boss, a famous music producer.

He never properly thanked her, never really talked things through. The pain, the bitterness, the shame were too big, too oppressive.

They cleared the air between them, and Eddie decided to use his hush money to pay Paige back and make the trip to LA, a few years later than planned.

Rekindling their old flame seemed like the logical thing to do, especially when Eddie managed to score another audition. While his music career took off, their relationship did not. Too much had happened, and they both changed over the last three years.

But they remained friends. Still are, in fact. She was one of the first people he came out to as bisexual. While his friendship with Robin and Steve had grown substantially since their shared adventures—nightmares, more like—Paige didn’t have a clear picture of who Eddie was supposed to be. The risk seemed smaller somehow.

Now, ten years later, he’s out and proud, thanks to men like Freddy Mercury and David Bowie, who made being a bisexual man in the music world somewhat acceptable. It still isn’t easy, but he’s happy.

Well, mostly happy.

Even though he’s a successful rockstar now, he still makes time to see the kids, who are all over the country. Dustin is in Boston with Nancy, Jonathan, and Will. Lucas and Max are back in California, so he sees them the most—he even officiated their wedding. Mike and El are still in Indiana, close to Hopper and Joyce in Hawkins.

He also visits his uncle Wayne, of course. And when he makes the trip West, he always stops by Chicago to spend time with Robin and Steve. They come to his shows whenever they can, sometimes making a vacation out of it, like when he played in New York.

They’re all still close, even if they don’t see each other as often as they’d like. So Eddie’s unfortunate crush on Steve Harrington never had a chance to fully go away. Every time Steve walks towards him with a blinding smile and wraps him in a tight, too-short hug, the butterflies in his stomach wake from their winter sleep.

There had been a few times over the years when Eddie thought that maybe, just maybe, Steve felt the same way. Like the morning of Joyce and Hopper’s wedding in 1989. They had bought a house together that was almost, but not quite, big enough to house everyone, so Steve and Eddie had shared a bed. Eddie had woken up in Steve’s arms, his chest pressed against Eddie’s back and a noticeably hard length against his ass. Steve’s face had been in his neck, hot puffs of air brushing against Eddie’s skin with each breath.

It had been the sweetest torture. Eddie convinced himself it was just a natural reaction to another body in bed with him, but when Steve woke up, he didn’t scramble away or push Eddie off. Instead, he stroked Eddie’s bare arm and murmured, “Morning,” in his ear. Then, he’d shifted back a bit so Eddie could turn around, searching his gaze. The air between them crackled with electricity, a tension so thick Eddie could barely swallow.

“Eddie,” Steve had begun, just as a pounding on the door startled them both. They jumped apart quickly before Henderson barged into the room, urging them to hurry up and get dressed because everyone was waiting for them.

Another time, in 1991, Steve had visited Eddie in LA without Robin, whose girlfriend had invited her to meet her parents. They spent a whole week together, swimming in the ocean, walking along the beach, and going to a few clubs where they danced with each other in ways you never could in Hawkins. At the end of that week, Steve held him for a long, long time, seemingly unwilling to let Eddie go when they said goodbye at the airport. They had to call his name over the speaker system to make him let go of Eddie.

The last time Eddie wondered if Steve could ever feel the same for him had been almost two years ago. Steve had called him while Eddie was in Europe. When Eddie answered, he’d just come back from the aftershow party of his concert in Berlin.

“Guten Tag,” he had jokingly greeted Steve, expecting at least a low chuckle, but Steve sounded… off.

“Eds, hi. Sorry that I’m bothering you so late—”

“You could never bother me, Stevie,” Eddie reassured him immediately because he was pretty sure there wasn’t any time Steve couldn’t call and Eddie wouldn’t want to speak to him.

“Okay.” Steve still sounded off, causing worry to creep up on Eddie.

“What is it? Did something happen? Are you okay? Is Robin?” Eddie bombarded him with questions, suddenly sure something horrible must have happened.

“No, nothing happened. We’re all fine. Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s just… I’m calling because I met someone. A woman,” he clarified, as if it could have been anything else. The golden boy of Hawkins wouldn’t call because of a man, now would he? “It’s getting pretty serious. I’m thinking about moving in with her.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t know you were seeing someone. That’s… that’s great, Stevie. I’m happy for you.”

“You are?”

“Yes, of course! Why wouldn’t I be? That’s what you always wanted, right? Someone to marry, to have your six lil’ nuggets with. Aren’t you happy?”

Steve hesitated for a long moment, and Eddie had just started to wonder if they got disconnected when he finally answered. “I guess.”

“You… guess? That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic.”

There was something Eddie wasn’t getting, he was sure of it.

“Do you ever feel like you’re looking at everything you’ve done, everything you worked toward, everything you thought you wanted to be, and wonder if that’s really you or just something that was expected of you, so you made it your whole personality?”

Eddie didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know what Steve needed to hear. He could be selfish and tell Steve that maybe he didn’t have to be the poster boy anymore, that he didn’t need to marry a woman and have a hoard of Harringtons with her to have a family who loves him unconditionally. But he would only be saying that to cling to the unobtainable dream of Steve and him for a bit longer, and maybe it was time Eddie faced reality.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to be supportive. “Steve, if she makes you happy, then you should go for it. You deserve to have someone who makes you feel loved. You’ve been through enough to not take a shot at happiness, right? If it’s what you really want, don’t let doubts get in the way.”

“So you think I should go for it?” Steve asked, and Eddie couldn’t place the tone of his voice.

“Yes, I think you should. You deserve your fairy tale ending, Stevie. The knight in shining armor should get the pretty princess, right?”

Steve sighed, and Eddie had no idea why he sounded so forlorn. “Right. Thank you, Eddie. See you at Friendsgiving at Joyce’s?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Eddie replied, meaning it. But when they hung up, he still felt like he had said the wrong thing.

At their yearly get-together on Thanksgiving, Eddie met Laura for the first time. He liked her instantly, even though she got to have what he wanted so badly. She was beautiful, smart, and had a dry sense of humor he could appreciate. And she was clearly head over heels for Steve, something Eddie could relate to.

The Eddie before March ‘86 would have begrudged her happiness with the man he was in love with. He would have been petty, maybe even cruel. He also would have run away, avoiding Steve with weak excuses. Eddie did none of these things because he had grown up and learned that some things were more important than a bruised heart.

The happiness of someone he loved, for example.

So when Steve asked him to be one of the groomsmen at his wedding, Eddie said yes.

He was done running.

On the morning of the wedding, which was supposed to be in Hawkins, because they wanted to celebrate at Joyce and Hopper’s place with the whole ‘family,’ Eddie got dressed in his fancy tuxedo with a red bow tie and even tamed his wild curls into an artful man-bun.

Eddie Munson would go through with this, no matter how much he didn’t want to.

He would not run away.

When he climbed into his rental car and started to drive towards the church in town, he was convinced that he could do this. Watch the man he was in love with marry someone else. He wouldn’t be the first person in history and certainly not the last to do it.

For Steve, he would even face the Upside Down again. What was a wedding in comparison?

It was only when he puts his car into park at the side of the path leading up to the Quarry that Eddie has to admit to himself that maybe he wasn’t done running away just yet.

Sitting on the edge of the Quarry, he lets his thoughts wander, replaying the last ten years. How many times had Steve and he sat here with a cool beer and a warm blanket, gazing at the stars and sharing everything, from comfortable silences to deep secrets? He wants Steve to be happy, but he finds that he can’t be there to witness him being happy with someone else. Eddie swears to himself as he watches the sun wander across the horizon that he’ll make it up to Steve somehow. He can’t lose Steve, he just can’t.

Eddie hopes that Steve will forgive him one day for missing one of the most important days in his life.

The day goes by quickly, the thoughts in his head running in circles enough to distract him from the passage of time or basic human needs like thirst or hunger.

“The sunset looks lovely, don’t you think?”

The voice startles him badly, almost making him lose his balance and tumble down into certain death. What a poetic way to go, if not for the strong arms steadying him.

“Easy there. Don’t have to fling yourself off a cliff just to get away from me,” Steve jokes, but it sounds strained.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes out, wonder, guilt, and shame warring inside him. Even more so when he realizes that Steve’s still in his tuxedo, looking breathtakingly handsome. “Oh God, I am so sorry, Stevie. I—”

But there are no words to explain to Steve why he couldn’t be there for his best friend’s wedding. At least none that wouldn’t be “I couldn’t watch you marry someone else.” He can’t put this weight on Steve’s shoulders. And selfishly, Eddie doesn’t think he could handle Steve looking at him differently. He wouldn’t hate Eddie for it, but he would feel bad for him, trying not to make it any harder on him. They would see each other less and less, a new distance building between them until one day, Eddie was just a guy in some old pictures and memories.

“I didn’t marry her,” Steve says into the ensuing silence, and Eddie thinks he must have heard him wrong.

Eddie's breath catches in his throat, and he turns to face Steve fully, searching his face for any sign that this is a joke or a misunderstanding. But Steve’s expression is serious, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and something else Eddie can’t quite place.

“What do you mean, you didn’t marry her?” Eddie asks, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Steve sighs and sits down next to Eddie, their shoulders almost touching. “I couldn’t go through with it, Eddie. I realized that I was trying to force myself into a life that wasn’t mine. I was trying to be someone I thought I should be, instead of who I really am.”

Eddie’s heart pounds in his chest, a wild mix of hope and fear. “What are you saying, Steve?”

Steve turns to look at him, eyes filled with a vulnerability Eddie rarely sees. “I’m saying that I’ve been lying to myself. And to you. I’ve spent so long trying to fit into this mold that I forgot what it was like to be truly happy. I thought marrying Laura was what I wanted, but when it came down to it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Eddie’s mind races, struggling to keep up with what Steve is saying. “Me? What about me?”

Steve takes a deep breath, as if gathering his courage. “Eddie, you’ve been a constant in my life for the last ten years. The one person except for Robin I can truly be myself around. You make me feel alive in ways no one else does. I think… No, I know that I have feelings for you. I’ve been too scared to admit it, even to myself, but I can’t keep running from it anymore.”

Eddie feels like the ground is shifting beneath him. He’s spent so long hiding his own feelings, convincing himself that they were one-sided. “Steve, I—”

But Steve cuts him off, placing a hand gently on Eddie’s cheek. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just needed you to know. I couldn’t go through with marrying Laura because it wouldn’t have been fair to her. Or to me.”

Eddie leans into Steve’s touch, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, Stevie. I didn’t think you could ever feel the same.”

Steve’s eyes soften, and he moves closer, their faces inches apart. “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. But I’m here now, and I want to see where this can go. If you’ll have me.”

Eddie’s eyes fill with tears of relief and joy. “Of course, I’ll have you, Steve. I’ve always wanted you.”

Steve smiles, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds. He leans in, closing the distance between them, and their lips meet in a gentle, tentative kiss. It feels like coming home, and Eddie knows that he’ll do everything he can to never lose this feeling ever again.

[cowgurrrl]

Going to The Chapel

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: the wedding day fic is coming but this was the first idea that presented herself so enjoy

Summary: “Where did love begin? What human looked at another and saw in their face the forests and the sea? Was there a day, exhausted and weary, dragging home food, arms cut and scarred, that you saw yellow flowers and, not knowing what you did, picked them because I loved you?” — Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping [2.2k]

Warnings: quick canonical type of violence, grief, idiots in love, domestic Joel and Ellie

Let the record reflect that despite twenty years of an apocalypse and an insane amount of loss, Joel Miller is still a romantic. It just took him a little longer to find that part of himself again. 

The first time he thinks about it, you're sitting on the floor with Ellie, helping to adjust her hold on her guitar. "It's not going anywhere. You can relax," you tell her. You gently move her hands and ensure she has a pillow under her so she can be comfortable while you teach her chords. The sun slips behind the mountains and makes the light hit your eyes as you watch her gain confidence in her strumming. Ellie looks to you for guidance when she gets stuck or needs reassurance, and you never flinch. By the end of the night, Ellie's fingers are raw, and you tell her how proud you are of her. "You'll be playing circles around us in no time." You say, and Ellie's smile makes you light up. Maybe, he thinks. Maybe here. Maybe now.

It's not that he had never thought about marrying you. He dreamt about it all the time but figured that's all it could be; a dream. He made excuses for why he never proposed. He was too old, too broken, and too scared. The world had already taken so much from both of you that it seemed cruel to even think about creating a family like that. And then Ellie happened. Suddenly, you had this little girl you loved and cared for more than anyone else, and you found a safe home thousands of miles away from Boston. Everything had changed. Why couldn't this change too?

The next time the thought crosses his mind, you're holding Tommy and Maria's daughter. Camille Sarah Miller came into the world and immediately captured both your hearts, but you aren't focused on Camille when he thinks about it. Sure, she's sleeping in your arms, but you're looking at Maria and asking how she's feeling, how much she's sleeping, and what she's been eating. When someone has a new baby, it's easy to get caught up in the latest family addition but not you. You care about Tommy and Maria's well-being as much as Camille's, and tell them never to hesitate to ask you for help. That night, you go home and make two freezer meals for the new parents. That's the night Joel asks Ellie what she would think if he asked you to marry him. Her answer encaptured everyone else's feelings: "Fucking finally."

He asks Tommy where he got Maria's ring the next day. Tommy smiles and claps his big brother on the shoulder before directing him to the local blacksmith. He usually only works with artillery, but he makes special exceptions for things like this. Joel designs the ring himself with some help from Ellie—a simple gold band with wildflowers etched into the sides. They look exactly like the ones you and Ellie would pick while on the way across the country. Joel used to complain about wasting time and asked you about it one night after Ellie had gone to bed. "Ellie's fourteen years old, and the closest thing she's seen to a flower is probably a Cordyceps," you said. "Just… let her be a kid, okay?" He could tell you were waiting for a fight, but he just nodded. That was the first time he realized you were starting to love Ellie too.

"What's this?" Ellie asks, pointing to the year etched on the inner part of the ring. 

"It's the year we met," He says. Ellie smiles and mumbles something that sounds like "you fucking sap" as she hands him the ring back. "So, d'you think she'll like it?"

"I think she'll love it." She says. It's all the confirmation Joel needs. 

He had something planned, he really did, but in true Miller fashion, it didn't work out that way. He planned on taking you to the meadow where you've gone on a few family picnics together, delivering a long, emotional speech where he'd probably cry and then pull out the ring. What actually ended up happening was much less wholesome. You two were out on patrol when a group of raiders attacked you. You managed to take them all down, but not before Joel got shot in the shoulder. You were frantically trying to slow the bleeding enough to get him back on a horse when he asked. "Can we talk about it when you're not bleeding out?" You yelled as you pulled him off the ground.

So, that's why you're holding his hand in the hospital as his drugs slowly start to wear off. You tell him everything the doctors did and that you can take him home in the morning. Ellie gets to sleepover at the Other Miller's (as Ellie affectionately calls them) house and is relieved that he caught a bullet in the shoulder, not somewhere more severe. "And I won't hold you to the bleeding-out proposal, so we're good." You laugh, but he looks serious.

"Check the front pocket of my backpack," He says. You furrow your brows but open the pocket to find the gold ring at the bottom. Your hand flies to cover your mouth as tears fill your eyes, and you look at him. "I was goin' to propose in the meadow. I planned a whole thing, but somehow this feels more like us." He smiles and reaches for you. You let him hold your hand as you stand beside his hospital bed, tears streaming down your face. 

"Does Ellie know?" You ask, and he laughs. 

"She helped pick the ring out." 

"Oh, my god." You cry. He squeezes your hand and takes the ring from you. Tears fill his eyes as he stares at you like you hung the stars.

"Will you marry me?" He finally asks, and you nod. 

"Of course I will." 

"You sure? 'Cause, there's no backin' out after this."

"Yes, I'm sure," You laugh as you bend down and kiss him. Joel's arm isn't strong enough to hold you, and you can't stop crying, but it's perfect. You break the kiss with giddy laughter, still incapable of wrapping your mind around the fact that Joel just proposed to you in a hospital room. "How long have you been planning this?"

"I mean, the gettin' shot part wasn't the original plan." 

"No, I meant, how long have you been planning to propose?"

"Baby, I always thought about marrying you," The gentleness of his voice is enough to make you tear up again. He grabs your left hand and carefully slides the ring on your finger. It's the tiniest bit too big, and you can't help but laugh as he groans defeatedly. "This was supposed to go so much better!" He says. You kiss him again and feel him smile against your lips.

"It's perfect. Thank you." 

You climb into the hospital bed with him, avoiding his injured shoulder, and listen as he points out all the details. He tells you about the engraving on the inside of the year you met and the flowers that were copied exactly from a drawing. He explains the original plan further and then apologizes for getting shot. "As long as you don't get hurt every time we try to make a life-altering change, I think we'll be fine." You say, and he laughs. You stay up talking for a long time even though the nurses urged Joel to get some rest. 

You wonder aloud what Sarah would think about her dad getting married, what all your dead loved ones would think about this. Your parents would've loved Joel, but they would've loved Ellie more. They'd probably listen to her tell shitty jokes all day if they could. You miss them, especially now. You laugh, trying to imagine Tess throwing you a bachelorette party that would inevitably be insane. You talk about what Bill and Frank would say and decide that Frank would definitely cry while Bill would insist on cooking on the wedding day. You'd have Henry stand at the front and sign the entire ceremony to Sam. Eventually, you end up falling asleep listening to Joel's heartbeat, and for the first time in a long, long time, you don't have a nightmare. Instead, you dream of a wedding day full of all your favorite people. 

You were never one to believe in signs from beyond, but you take the peaceful dream as one big group hug from those you've lost.

You're exhausted when you leave the hospital in the morning, but you still make the walk to the Other Miller's house. You can hear Ellie talking to Tommy about her favorite comic book when you walk through the door, not even bothering to knock. "Hello?" You call as you walk into the kitchen with Joel close behind you. Ellie and Maria have a stack of pancakes in front of them as Tommy mans the stove with a sleeping Camille strapped to his chest. 

"Hey! How are you feeling?" Maria asks. You walk over to Ellie and smooth her hair back before kissing her forehead. She scrunches her nose at you but doesn't protest when you wrap your arms around her. You're sure Joel is answering Maria's question, but Ellie catches the glint of your ring before he can finish his sentence.

"Holy shit! He actually did it?" She asks loudly, and you shoot Joel a look. He shrugs, a smile pulling at his lips, as Maria and Tommy give each other confused looks. Ellie grabs your left hand to look at the ring, and it finally connects in Maria's head.

"Holy shit!" She yells, shooting out of her chair and covering her open mouth with her hands. You laugh as she leans over to look at your ring, a happy noise leaving her.

"It only took him getting shot, but he proposed." You say, and the room erupts into cheers. Tommy turns off the stove before walking over to Joel and wrapping him in as big of a hug as he can give him with Camille in the sling. Maria hugs you and rocks you back and forth, practically screeching about how excited she is. When she's done congratulating you, the couple switch, and Tommy hugs you tightly.

"Welcome to the family, officially." He says as he kisses your temple. Your chest could burst from all the love filling the room, and you feel your eyes getting wet again.

"Thank you, Tommy," You say. Tommy declares to make more celebratory pancakes, this time in the shape of a ring, but he barely gets a response as Maria asks Joel for all the details about the proposal. You look down to see Ellie staring at you with a big smile. You crouch down to look her in the eyes and put a hand on her knee. "What do you think about all this, kiddo?" 

"I'm just glad he finally got the balls to ask you. I thought it'd be forever before you guys made it official," she jokes. You smile but stay silent, waiting for her honest answer. She takes a deep breath, glancing between you and Joel before landing on you again. You squeeze her knee to encourage her to talk and see tears brimming in her big, brown eyes. "I'm really, really happy you guys are getting married." 

"You're sure? 'Cause I'll give this ring right back to him if you say the word."

"Hey! I worked hard on that ring!"

"I heard," you say, holding your left hand up to spin the band. "They're the wildflowers we used to pick, right?"

"It was Joel's idea. I just drew it." She says, and your heart skips a beat. You look at your ring again and notice the tiny pencil markings on the petals. A tear falls from your eye as you look at her again, grabbing her hand.

"Your drawings are on my ring?" 

"Do you like them?" She asks nervously, and you pull her into a tight hug. 

"Oh, baby girl," you whisper. "They're perfect." Joel doesn't miss your interaction with Ellie, there's rarely a time when he isn't watching his girls, and he smiles. Maria runs into the other room and comes back with a Polaroid camera in her hands.

"Okay, okay, you love birds! Let's get a picture!" She says, waving her hands for Joel to stand with you. Joel pretends to be annoyed, but you catch the sparkle in his eyes as he walks over to you and Ellie. He wraps an arm around your waist, and you put a hand on Ellie's shoulder to keep her from trying to escape the picture as the camera flashes. You eat pancakes and laugh with your family as the picture develops safely on the counter. Before you can leave, now with Ellie in tow, Maria hands you the picture with her handwriting under it. The Millers, she wrote, even though you haven't decided on whether you want to change your name and Ellie will forever have her mother's surname. 

Names don't mean anything when it comes to family, and you've always been family. You and Ellie have always been Millers, even if you didn't know it.

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Tag list: @evyiione