tiki-tequila

[tiki-tequila]

ALL 👏🏾 OF 👏🏾 THEM 👏🏾

[tiki-tequila]

Love love love this chapter haq :-) aidan interacting with ziyah was SO cute.

I’d feel like aidan is coming around faster than sage is lol. Sage is not messing around. But i hate the thought that she thinks he didn’t love her :( and i hate that aidan doesn’t set the record straight. Oh well, makes for good character development.

Great chapter as always🩷💓🩷

Fic: Alive - Part 26

Summary: Aidan traced the thin chain around his neck, rubbing the infinity pendant between his fingers. No longer a symbol of their everlasting love, it was something he touched in anger when he thought of Sage. It was the only thing of hers that still remained with him after eight years, the last possession which still connected them together. When he 4did find Sage again, and he would no matter how long it took, he planned to destroy the pendant - and her.

Taking place across two timelines, Alive tells the story of Aidan and Sage, high school sweethearts driven apart by who they are and where they come from. Once enemies then lovers, their relationship runs full circle when they meet again in the present, now prepared to destroy each other.

My Masterlist (contains links to previous parts)

Sage was working on her laptop when the knock on the door captured her attention. That was probably Aidan, here to meet Ziyah. Realizing the importance of what was about to happen next, she cast a worried glance at her daughter who was watching TV a few feet away. After Aidan walked through that door, Ziyah's life was going to change significantly - and there was no way to predict if that would be for good or bad. All she could do was hope Ziyah's experiences didn't mimic that of her own with her father, recalling Thomas and the pain and disappointment he brought to her life. It was terrifying to think of Ziyah being exposed to that, and just the thought of Aidan inflicting any kind of emotional damage on Ziyah - intentional or not - wanted to make Sage lock up the little girl forever. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to stop the inevitable at this point.

"Mommy? Mommy! Someone's at the door. Can I open it?" Ziyah asked, looking at her with anticipation.

"No, honey. You stay here. I'll get it."

"You never let me answer the door. You're so mean!" Scowling, Ziyah stood up and stomped towards her room.

Sage exhaled a heavy sigh. Lately, Ziyah was throwing a lot of temper tantrums and although Sage had been concerned at first, she realised the change in temperament was normal after speaking to other parents and doing some research of her own. Of course, that didn't make it any easier to deal with. "I love you too," she muttered to herself, getting up to answer the door.

Seconds later she found herself staring at Aidan holding the most hideous stuffed toy imaginable. It was a pony, taller than Ziyah herself, and a godawful garish purple with a hot pink tail. Her gaze shifted to Aidan, who was watching her nervously.

"You think she'll like it?" he asked, his voice filled with trepidation.

"Well... it's definitely purple."

He glanced down at the pony. "I thought it was ugly as hell but then there was this kid in the toy store begging her mom for it. It was the last one there, I picked it up before they could grab it."

She crossed her arms, resisting the urge to smile. "So you stole a toy from a little girl?"

"Whatever. She was a brat anyway."

"Aidan!" she chastised even as her face broke out into a smirk.

"Hey, I was in that store for over two hours. I was going nuts trying to figure out what else to get Ziyah!"

"Please tell me that's all you got her."

"You want me to lie?"

"You're going to totally spoil her, aren't you?"

"I have to make up for a lot of birthdays."

She paused, wondering if he was going to lash out at her but there was no bitterness laced in his words.

"When I saw how excited that kid was over this thing, I figured Ziyah would be too." Teeth nipped at the bottom corner of his lips. "If you think she'll hate it... you know what, I'll grab the other stuff too. I don't want to disappoint her."

As he turned to walk away, Sage gripped his elbow. He stopped, focusing his attention on her. At first surprised, his eyes soon flashed with sheer intensity - which brought back that very unsettling feeling he tended to evoke in her. Realising it was a mistake to touch him, she withdrew her hand from his body.

"It's not a big deal," he said. "The toys are upstairs in the penthouse. It'll only take a few minutes."

"Aidan, no. It's fine. She'll love this."

He didn't look convinced by her words. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Trust me."

Finally, he smiled. "Yeah?"

"Just get in here."

He stepped inside the apartment. Thanks to his close proximity, the walls felt like they were closing in, and what was normally a spacious area started to feel as small as a closet. She took a few steps back, hoping that would help. He put the pony down on the floor to remove his shoes, and she noted how the stuffed animal almost reached his thighs.

"You're going to give me a tour of this place?" he asked.

"No."

He smirked. "Why? Worried I'll snoop through your things?"

"Well, yeah. You're definitely the type."

"True. I always did want to nose around your underwear drawer. Maybe now I'll finally get my chance."

"Shut up."

All of a sudden his face was overshadowed by fear, his gaze directed behind her. She turned around to find Ziyah standing in the hallway. Her daughter stared up at Aidan curiously, then at the pony, and back to Aidan again, apparently entranced by both.

"Ziyah, do you remember I said a friend of mine would be coming over today? This is Aidan." Sage looked to him to speak but he remained silent, frozen in place. Her attention shifted back to Ziyah. "Say hi, honey."

"Hi," Ziyah said, looking at the pony again. "Is that yours?" She pointed at the stuffed animal.

Aidan finally seemed to snap out of his stupor. "Uh, yeah. I mean, no." Flustered, he held it out at Ziyah. "I actually got it for you."

"Really?" A beaming smile appeared on the little girl's face. "You did?" All signs of shyness now gone, she practically ran towards the pony and wrapped her arms around the toy that was bigger than her. "She's so cute."

"Hey, what are you supposed to say when a person does something nice for you?" Sage asked.

Ziyah smiled at Aidan. "Thank you!"

He didn't respond, the nervousness vibrating off of him in waves. It was almost endearing to see him acting this way since he'd always been an extrovert. Popular in high school, star athlete, total flirt, and now he could barely say a word in front of a child. Thankfully, Ziyah was too busy chatting away to take notice of his strange behaviour.

"Does she have a name? Can I name her? I'm going to name her. I'm going to call her Pooja," Ziyah muttered to herself, rubbing the back of the toy gently.

"Aidan, don't you want to know why she chose that name?" Sage prodded, hoping that would be the push he needed to initiate a conversation.

He shot her a quick look of gratitude before kneeling down on the floor beside Ziyah. "Why that name?" he asked hesitantly, offering a small smile.

"'cause my best friend's name is Pooja. And she has long hair, like this," Ziyah answered, pulling the tail. "Now I have a best friend in school and a best friend at home."

"Wow, that's awesome," Aidan said.

"Do you have a bff?"

"I do," he replied. "His name is Theo. And you know what, he has really pretty hair too, just like Pooja."

Ziyah giggled.

"What do you and Pooja like to do?" he asked.

As the two engaged in conversation in front of her, Sage was struck by a sharp pang of jealousy. For so long it had just been Ziyah and her, their small little family that she loved and cherished more than anything in the world, and now Aidan was here and getting along great with Ziyah, and a part of Sage felt like she was losing her daughter. It was petty, and foolish, but she couldn't help feeling sad.

"Do you know Uncle David?"

Ziyah's voice brought Sage out of her reverie.

"I do," Aidan replied. "Your mom, David and I went to school together."

"That means you're my Uncle Aidan?"

His expression stiffened, and Sage sensed he wasn't fond of that idea at all. "No, honey. He's just Aidan." She approached Ziyah. "Why don't you ask if he'd like to see your toys?"

Ziyah flashed an enthusiastic smile. "Do you wanna see my robot, Aidan? His name is Jack and he changes into a car." "Wow, that's pretty cool." "And he makes noises, like a police car." "Does he talk too?" "Of course not!" Ziyah chastised. "He's a robot. He can't talk!" Holding the pony in her arms, Ziyah led Aidan down the hallway. "It's in my room. Do you want to see my room?" Sage remained in place, watching the two turn the corner and disappear from her line of sight. While the sadness was still present, there was also a strange feeling of hope surging through her. The smile on Ziyah's face, the way she and Aidan appeared to connect, it seemed to indicate the start of something wonderful. It was obviously too early to tell but maybe, just maybe, Ziyah and Aidan would have the kind of relationship Sage always craved, but never had, with her own dad. Cheered by that thought, she walked towards the living room.

***

Aidan sat cross-legged on the floor, listening to Ziyah while she introduced him to two of her favourite dolls. They were twins in purple dresses, had massive yellow braids, and although they appeared identical to his untrained eye, his daughter patiently explained that that was not the case. Apparently Rani and Karen had vastly different personalities and often didn't get along, but were forced to behave with each other or Ziyah wouldn't play with them. Fixing her big, brown eyes upon him, Ziyah emphasised she was the twins' favourite person in the world, they thought of her as a big sister, and that's why she had to punish them if they weren't being good. "Pooja says I have to pick, I can't have two favourites. But I love them both. I don't wanna pick," Ziyah said, putting both dolls on her brand new pony's back. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Aidan answered solemnly. Ziyah frowned at him. "That's not true. Mommy makes me do a lot of things I don't want to. I don't wanna go to bed sometimes but she makes me go. And I don't wanna eat carrots but she makes me eat them. And I wanna watch TV all the time but she doesn't let me." Shit. He chided himself for forgetting that he simply couldn't blurt out things in front of a child, and chose his next words carefully. "Well, Mommy's really smart, and she probably makes you do all that stuff because it's good for you." "I don't care," Ziyah grumbled. "When I'm a grown-up, I'm never gonna do anything I don't want to." He smiled, remembering feeling the same way when he was a child, but then something far more disturbing crossed his mind. As a kid he had spent a lot of his time wishing he was bigger, stronger, taller - anything that would make his father's beatings hurt less. He remembered the paralysing feeling of dread that would start in the pit of his stomach and then spread throughout his whole body, the helplessness he felt at not being able to stop what was coming next. Of course it was worse when he made a mistake, or misbehaved, in public. His father would be all smiles, putting on a cheerful mask for everybody, and even Aidan would go about his day pretending everything was fine - but inside he was terrified of the horrible punishment that awaited him at home. Fear had always been such a major constant in his life and it made him sick to think of Ziyah experiencing the same emotion. Feeling helpless again, he watched his daughter. Instinctively, he reached out to caress her hair to assure himself she was alright. "Ow, that hurts!" He withdrew his hand immediately, realising he must have pulled the strands too tight. "I'm so sorry." Panic surged through him like a tidal wave, he felt overwhelmed. Not wanting to frighten Ziyah, he stood up and quickly walked to the kitchen. Sage was on her laptop, sitting at the table, but he didn't acknowledge her, instead rushing towards the sink. "You okay?" Sage asked from behind him. He felt nauseated, and tried to puke in the sink but nothing came out. Turning on the tap, he splashed his face with cold water. "Aidan, what's wrong?" "I'm fine," he replied, his voice hoarse, taking the towel she offered. Patting his face dry, he turned to her. She was standing near him, studying him with concern, and for a moment it felt like nothing had changed and she was the same girl he'd always loved and could share all of his inner demons with. "I don't know if I can do this, Sage."

That girl disappeared in an instant; in her place now was a woman glaring at him with a hardened expression. "Fine. Get out."

She was right. He should leave, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

She swallowed an audible breath, averting her eyes from him. "I don't know why I'm even surprised. I mean, this is what you do. When things get hard, you run away. I guess I should just be grateful you didn't let Ziyah get too attached before you decided to ditch her." Her voice cracked when she spoke next. "What? Why are you still here? Are you waiting for me to escort you out or something?"

"You think I want to leave?" he demanded, closing the distance between them. "I don't want to go. I want to stay, but I don't want to hurt her!" He hated feeling this exposed in front of Sage, not when he knew she would probably end up using it against him - but he needed to explain himself and maybe, just maybe, she would understand. "Ziyah is a great kid. She's happy, she's funny, and she's fucking brilliant - but what if I mess all that up? What if I screw her up? You remember everything my dad did, don't you? What he used to do me? What if I'm like him? I mean, I don't think I am. I would never intentionally hurt Ziyah - but what if I just snap one day and hit her? I couldn't bear that, Sage. I can't stand the thought of hurting Ziyah." He tore his gaze away from Sage, disgusted with himself.

After what felt like a lifetime, she finally spoke. "When it comes to Ziyah, I don't trust you. At all. I don't think you have any idea what it means to be a parent, a good parent, and a part of me suspects you're only here for some excitement because you're bored with partying and fucking around."

As much as he wanted to argue back, he couldn't. She had every right to be angry with him.

"I hate the idea of you being in her life because you're immature, you're reckless, you can't commit, and you jump into things without thinking things through. But the one thing I've never worried about is you hitting Ziyah. If I thought for a second you would lay a hand on her, you wouldn't be here right now. Trust me on that."

Stunned, he met her gaze. Disdain still brimmed in her eyes but there was also a steely resolve in them. He didn't doubt for a second she was being completely honest with him.

"You're capable of a lot of nasty things but you would never physically hurt your child, or anyone else you loved."

"How can you say that with such certainty?"

"Because I know firsthand how deeply you love the people you consider family. Even when you have every reason to turn on them, you don't. You hold on, you protect them at all cost. I don't know why, but you're somehow compassionate towards them no matter how much they may have wronged you."

"I hurt you, remember? I came here with every intention of destroying you," he pointed out.

There was no emotion in her voice when she responded. "Yeah, but you never loved me. Besides, this isn't about me. This is about Ziyah." She levelled him with a cold stare save for the quick glimmer of desperation that flashed across her face for a second. It was like she was silently pleading with him to stay and prove her wrong, even if her words didn't betray any of that vulnerability. "If you want to walk out that door, then fine. Go. Do it now, but leave because you've finally accepted that you're a coward and don't want the responsibility of being a parent, not because you think you've inherited violent tendencies from your father. You're not him, you're not a monster, and you don't have it in you to hurt people the way he did."

Her words reached deep into his heart, somehow assuaging the insecurities that had crept up ever since discovering he was a father. With Sage there were no empty platitudes, just absolute honesty, and that meant everything to him. If she could believe in him, then he owed it to himself to stick around.

"So what is it going to be, Aidan? Are you leaving or not?"

"Nah, I'm sticking around. Besides, I'm supposed to help you guys bake cookies, remember?"

Her facial expression may not have revealed any changes but he sensed the enormous relief that emanated from her. It was almost as if a huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

"Yeah, that's not happening. There's no way I'll be able to bake that many cookies in one day."

"Now who's giving up, huh?" he teased.

"Whatever." She turned around, walked back to the table, and he was not the least bit shy about checking out her ass as she did. While she'd always been cute, her confident stature and the way she carried herself with absolute certainty these days had transformed her into a woman who was unbelievably hot. Back in high school, she was defiant and always had a chip on her shoulder. Now, she was comfortable in her own skin and simply didn't give a fuck about anyone else's opinion. "It's not a big deal anyway," she continued, forcing him out of his daze. "There's a bakery that I can pick up the cookies from. It's a bit far away but I'll go there after work tomorrow." "You do realise there's a bakery across the street from here too?" She cast him a snooty expression, as if he'd just suggested picking up poison instead of cookies. "Because, Aidan, cookies for the bake sale have to be nut-free. There can't be any traces of nuts in them. There are kids in school that are allergic to them." "Oh." "Since I'm not making them myself, I have to make sure the bakery doesn't use nuts and the only one that guarantees it is that one." "Didn't realise you have to take so many things into consideration." "You do." She smirked. "Welcome to parenthood. A lot of the times, it's a bitch." He laughed. "Text me the address. I'll pick up the cookies for you." Her eyebrow quirked up. "You don't have to do that." "I don't mind." Just then Ziyah stormed into the kitchen, flashing an exasperated glance at him. "Aidan, why are you here? You're supposed to be playing with me." She walked up to him, grabbed his hand. "Rani's being mean to Karen again and I have to talk to them. Come on." As Ziyah dragged him away, he sent Sage a grateful smile. "Thank you," he mouthed. She returned the grin, a beautiful, warm smile that filled him with hope and made him believe anything was possible - even a life with not only Ziyah, but also Sage.

To be continued...

@bustlingcrowdsxorxsilentsleepers​ @idaofinfinity​ @tiki-tequila

[tiki-tequila]

In all honesty i can’t see them resolving their issues but i’m hoping things go well with Ziyah😭 i kinda want Aidan to have a bumpy start with her bc i can definitely see Ziyah as a mommys girl. I would love to see where Aidans relationships with his parents are atm as well

Fic: Alive - Part 25

Fic: Alive - Part 25

Summary: Aidan traced the thin chain around his neck, rubbing the infinity pendant between his fingers. No longer a symbol of their everlasting love, it was something he touched in anger when he thought of Sage. It was the only thing of hers that still remained with him after eight years, the last possession which still connected them together. When he 4did find Sage again, and he would no matter how long it took, he planned to destroy the pendant - and her.

Taking place across two timelines, Alive tells the story of Aidan and Sage, high school sweethearts driven apart by who they are and where they come from. Once enemies then lovers, their relationship runs full circle when they meet again in the present, now prepared to destroy each other.

My Masterlist (contains links to previous parts)

Then...

Aidan glared at Sage sitting at the next table, her eyes cast downward as she pushed food around on her plate. He willed her to glance at him, to catch his gaze. She didn't look up, not even once, even though she was fully aware of his focused attention. Her defiant chin and the stubbornness etched onto her face was a dead giveaway. These days when their paths crossed she looked right through him, like he meant nothing. Like he no longer existed in her life. He'd begged, he'd pleaded, he apologized in person, over text, on the phone, over and over again but none of it mattered. He didn't understand how she could go from loving him one day to absolute disdain the next.

"Stop staring at her. You're embarrassing yourself."

Even as Cat's annoying whisper dragged him back to reality, he kept his focus on Sage. "Fuck off". She bristled, turning back to her friends. For a moment he shifted his eyes to Cat. Despite all the shit they put each other through – the fights, the cheating, the manipulative head games - they still had each other's back. Cat understood loyalty, which was more than what he could say for Sage. A simple fuckup on his part and she'd already kicked him out of her life.

Sage stood up, gathered her things together and headed towards the building. He followed suit. The hallway was less crowded than normal, with most people hanging outside during lunch. As her steps quickened in pace, so did his. When she moved to turn the corner, he grabbed her arm from behind and pulled her into the closest empty classroom. Cornering her against the wall, he simply stared at her a few seconds even if she refused to meet his gaze.

While Sage wouldn't even look at him, he couldn't stop breathing her in. Her subtle scene, a mixture of cherry blossom and vanilla that was forever ingrained in his brain consumed him, making his knees weak, his body hard. He wanted her so much, he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was everything to him. "Look at me, Sage."

She closed her eyes, defiant as ever, but he wasn't going to give up on her so easily. Cradling her face in his hands, his thumb stroked over her bottom lip, his heart racing a mile a minute when a soft moan escaped her mouth. No matter how angry she was, she couldn't hide how much she wanted him.

At least he had that to cling to.

His efforts seem to be paying off as her mask of indifference slipped. Sage's face was awash with vulnerability, her lips quivering. Desperate to connect with her, he dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I miss you." His arms circled around her, hugging her tightly, as he dipped his head into the corner of her neck.

God, he missed her. He missed her terribly. Her kindness, her compassion, how smart she was. From the way she laughed to how she snarked back when he was teasing her. "Can you hold me? Please?" he begged. "Just for a minute?" With anyone else he would have felt too pathetic to plead for affection, but not with Sage. Never with her. She was the only person in this entire world who made him feel safe and loved. Despite her earlier disdain her arms wrapped around him, his heart leapt with absolute joy. She'd forgiven him. Finally. He smiled into her skin, deliriously happy.

Suddenly Sage was pushing him away. He staggered back, trying to catch himself from losing his balance. She was staring at him with complete hatred masking her face. The resulting pain he felt at her vitriol was a thousand times more intense than even the worst beating his father had given him.

"I'm not your fucking girlfriend!"

Aidan's jaw clenched with anger. He tried to remind himself she was angry and lashing out. It didn't mean anything. "Don't be like this."

"Like what?" she fired back. "Like I can't stand the sight of you?" She shook her head vehemently. "You don't get to come crying to me when my sister's being a bitch to you."

"Stop it!" he warned. "I've had enough of this shit! Okay, yeah, we had a fight but you don't get to act like a fucking bitch about it non-stop."

"Stay away from me. Or I'll tell-"

"What? Who're you going to tell?" He was furious, so furious that he could barely keep himself from shaking. "You keep threatening me that you'll tell everyone about my dad. Do you really think anyone is going to believe anything that comes out of your mouth, Sage? Your own father doesn't believe anything you say. Why would anyone else?"

There were so many things he wanted to scream at her. How much he hated her for acting like a stuck-up bitch, how pissed he was that she couldn't get past a stupid fucking mistake. But more than anything, he just wanted to hurt her as much as she hurt him.

"I don't even know why the hell I'm wasting my time on someone like you," he yelled. The words may have been a lie, but a part of him desperately wanted them to be true. With Sage everything was amplified - the joy, the rage, the sheer pain of being apart from her, and it made him realize how much simpler and easier it was with Cat. "I'd rather be with Cat anyway."

The impact his words had were immediate. Hurt flooded over her face, and he instantly regretted his words. "Sage-" he said, reaching for her but she was quick to escape him.

She didn't even cast him a second glance when she left the room.

***

Now...

Aidan stood still, trying to wrap his mind around the fact Sage was kissing him. To say he was surprised by the gesture was an understatement considering the sheer hatred she seemed to have for him but, frankly, none of that mattered at the moment. Not when she was in front of him, standing so close that he all had to do was reach out to touch her - and he did just that as his arms clung to her and pulled her towards him. The kiss intensified, his mouth ravaged hers and she responded with equal ferocity. His hand curved around the back of her head, fisting her hair, while the other swept down the length of her back to grab her ass over her jeans. God, she felt fucking amazing, her body swaying against him, already making him hard. He was dying to see her naked, touch her, taste her and fuck her until she was screaming his name over and over again - except the voice in his head refused to be silenced. After fantasizing about her for so long, he just wanted to enjoy the moment but he couldn't stop questioning her motives. Why was she kissing him? What was in it for her? He cursed himself even as he pulled away, and took a step back. His breathing ragged, her body trembling, he peered down at her. "What was that for?" She looked away, panting for air. "Why did you kiss me?" he demanded again. She refused to answer or meet his gaze. "Did you do it to fuck with my head?" She glanced up at him, guilt flooding over her face for a quick second - and he had his answer. Furious, he advanced towards her. "What? You thought if you let me cop a feel I'd be easier to manipulate?" His lips twisted into a sneer. "Maybe if you offered a blow job." "Fuck you!" she sniped, shoving him hard. Refusing to back off he got in her face again, pointing his finger at her. "You don't ever get to do that to me again. You don't get to play games and make a mess out of my life. Not anymore." She slapped his hand away. "Get out!" "You think I'm sticking around here for you? I'm not. Why would I? I've had enough of your shit. You're nothing but a fucking liar!" "That's rich coming from you after everything you did!" "You're still pissed because I used Cat to hurt you? Get over it, it wasn't a big deal! What you did to me was way, way worse. You made me fall in love with you, made me believe I wasn't alone, that I would always have you by my side." His voice cracked with emotion, his jaw clenched in anger. "And like an idiot, I fell for it. You said we could get through anything as long as we were together but at the first sign of trouble you took off! You left me without a word!" "God forbid that I actually wanted to live my own life." Disgust coursed through him; he couldn't even bear to look at her. For all her faults in high school, Sage was never cruel or dismissive. Yeah she was a fighter and always retaliated back, but he still remembered the night he'd shown up at her doorstep, bloodied and bruised, and she'd been kind to him despite having every reason to turn him away.

The woman in front of him now, he didn't think she was capable of that. "All those years, you were always on my mind. I thought about you constantly. What you were doing, what your life was like, who you were with... did you ever wonder about me? Did I cross your mind at all?" "No. I had a baby to raise." "You know what's pathetic? When dad was on trial, I honestly thought you'd reach out to me. I waited for you to call, I was convinced you still cared enough to find out how I was holding up, if I was okay." "Your father raped god knows how many women and you're complaining about your pain. Why am I not surprised?" "That's not what I meant." "Your pain, your feelings. Do you even think about those women? What he did to them? What they must have gone through?" She swallowed audibly, her eyes glistening. "Or maybe you knew all along and just didn't care." Her vicious words hurt far more than any of the beatings his father had inflicted upon him. "Did you? Did you know, Aidan?"

There was a kind of desperation in her voice which he didn't quite understand, and right now he was too angry to care. Besides, if she genuinely thought he was capable of that... there was no point in trying to change her mind. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. Guess you'll just have to wait for the biopic to find out." Her gaze narrowed, glinting with a hardness that was such a part of her now. "Everything is a joke to you." "Ziyah isn't, and I'm not going to let you do anything to mess that up for me. So don't fuck with me or you'll regret it. This isn't high school; I'm not going to be your little bitch anymore." "Threatening me now? "Like father, like son? Is that what you're going to say next?" He gave her a bitter smile. "Go ahead, hurl your insults. Do your worst. Say what you have to say and be done with it so we can finally move on from this shit." She crossed her arms in front of herself, hostility marking her features. "You're the one who keeps bringing it up, throwing it in my face!" He exhaled a sigh of resignation, realising she had a point. Although he was angry and still felt the sting of betrayal at being abandoned by her, he had to find a way to get past the bitterness for Ziyah's sake. Besides, there was no point in clinging to the girl he once loved. Sage had changed, for the worse, and he had no interest in getting to know the cold, hard woman she had become now. "You're right. What's done is done and talking about it now isn't going to change anything." Her expression softened, and it was apparent she was surprised by his words. "I won't bring it up anymore," he continued. "All it does is make us angry, bitch at each other, and that doesn't accomplish anything. We have to find some way to get along because I don't want Ziyah to see us like this." "I don't either." "Good." He took a step back, slid his hands into the pocket of his jeans. "Can we call a truce then?" "Okay, fine. But I need to say something to you first." He locked eyes with her again, watching her intently. "What?" "You may think I did the wrong thing by leaving, and maybe you want me to apologize but I can't. I won't." He sighed out loud, irritated. "Not again." "You had your say, now it's my turn. After that, we can put this behind us and never bring it up again." "Fine." "I was drowning back then. It felt like the walls were caving in, like there was no escape at all. Leaving was the only shot I had at saving myself and I took it. I won't apologize for that." "Why didn't you ever tell me how bad it was for you? Maybe I could have helped." "You were part of the problem." Her words hung in the air between them, alive and palpable. "Still interested in a truce?" she prodded. "It's necessary at this point, don't you think?" She nodded her head in agreement. "Yeah." He held her gaze for several seconds until she finally looked away, prompting him to snap out of the moment. "I'll be moved in by this weekend." She quirked her eyebrow. "So you haven't changed your mind about the penthouse suite?" "Nope. Don't worry, I'm not planning to stalk you or anything. That's something the old me would do, not the new me." She offered him a small smile. "Good to know." "Do you think I can meet Ziyah this week?" Her teeth pulled at her bottom lip; she was nervous. "Okay. If you want, you can come over tomorrow and help us bake cookies. It's for a fundraiser at her school." Maybe they weren't friends, but at least they weren't sniping at each other either.

"I think Ziyah will be home any minute now," Sage said, interrupting his thoughts. "I'll take that as my cue to leave." He turned and walked to the door, a little surprised to find her following after him. Out on the hallway, he faced Sage again. "I'm nervous about tomorrow." She leaned her head against the door. "Don't be. Remember she's just a little kid. As long as you're nice to her and play with her, you'll get along fine." "It's that easy, huh?" he teased. "Parenting's a breeze." He laughed. "I want to bring something, a gift, for Ziyah tomorrow. Is that okay?" "She'll love that. Nothing extravagant though, okay?" "Any ideas?" "She's going through a purple phase right now." There was genuine affection in her voice as she spoke. "That means all purple, all the time. Bring her something in that colour and she'll love you for it." "I can do that." Feeling more reassured at the thought of meeting his daughter, he smiled at Sage, and she returned the gesture. Unaware of how long they remained locked in that position, he finally broke eye contact when the uneasy tension returned between them. "I should go." She cleared her throat. "Yeah, sure. Just give me a call tomorrow." "Okay, bye." As he walked away, he heard the door shut behind him. Waiting for the elevator, he reminded himself not to fuck this up. Sage wasn't the same person she was before, neither was he, and that meant the bond between them no longer existed. That was good, and necessary, because they couldn't afford to be bogged down by messy feelings - not when they had a kid to raise. All that mattered now was Ziyah and he would do whatever it took to keep her safe and happy.

To be continued...

@bustlingcrowdsxorxsilentsleepers​ @idaofinfinity​ @tiki-tequila

[tiki-tequila]

Omg waaaait ah !! I been MIA on this story but OMGGGG ???? My poor tommy

𝐇𝐈, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 8k

chapter summary: Joel takes you on your first date. A barbecue meant to be fun becomes a minefield of unpleasant memories for Tommy.

warnings: mutual masturbation, piv, dirty talking, light spit play, PTSD, war flashbacks, angst towards the end

a/n: yup, you're seeing correct, I uploaded a day early!! woooo

Chapter Ten || Chapter Twelve

When Joel mentioned taking you out for a date, you couldn't help but imagine something simple and unassuming, just like him. You envisioned a quaint, unpretentious restaurant where you could share intimate conversation, followed by a leisurely stroll back home. You knew Joel wasn't exactly an innovative man; however, his wood carving skills, took you by surprise when he showed you some of his artwork, it made your heart grow fonder for him. As much as he poked fun at himself for not understanding art, or knowing much of it, he was an artist. 

In the end, you weren't expecting anything extravagant, and you had no complaints about it. That was a part of his Texan charm. It was who he was, and you loved him for it.

What you didn't expect was to take a thirty to forty-minute drive to South Congress.

“You didn't have to go through all this trouble,” you say as Joel opens the truck door for you. Smiling, he rolls his eye. He offers you his hand, and with a skip in your heart, you accept it, feeling the heat of his palm. Joel steadies you as you hop down from the vehicle. Sarah was at another sleepover, carefully orchestrated by Joel, making it the perfect time for him to take you on the first date he mentioned a couple of days ago.

“It’s no trouble,” he answers, moving his jaw. “But if you keep sayin’ that I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re not a fan of the idea.” 

“Oh, I’m definitely a fan. No need to worry your pretty head about that.” 

Before taking the first step, he holds your arm and tugs you back toward him. Your eyes widen when he throws your jacket over your shoulders, “‘Might get cold,” he murmurs, fingers skimming down your bare arms. Then he sighs. “I love it when you call me pretty. Makes me all tingly inside.” 

“Well then,” you smile, leaning closer. “Let me say it again, you’re pretty. Prettiest man I know.” 

Joel's lips curl into a wide grin, his humming filling the air. “I’m blushin’,” he teases, capturing your lips in a swift, lingering kiss, lacing his fingers with yours. “I knew this would be a good idea,” he mutters against your lips in a self-congratulatory tone. His taste lingers on your mouth, leaving you craving more. 

“I don’t want to burst your bubble but I’m still not sure what we’re doing here. You never told me.” 

Hand in hand, you and Joel set off, walking down the street at a leisurely pace. The sun, beginning its descent from the vast expanse of blue skies, painted the world in a soft, golden hue. 

“We’re here to look at the murals,” he explains. “Thought you might like it, bein’ an artist and all. And if we get hungry there’s this Tex-Mex place I like to go to, I take Sarah there all the time.” 

He's nonchalant about it, yet he still averts his eyes. A soft crimson flares under his shirt, creeping up his neck and tinting his cheeks. Your heart beats quickly. You may now be a part of his life, but Sarah will always hold a tender place in his heart. Something he hesitates to share, like a tiny box of secrets. She's his everything. You wonder how many times he had to keep that part of himself hidden, how many times he mentioned his daughter and saw the hesitation in the other party's eyes. It's no one's fault, really. It's a complicated situation no matter which side you consider. And you're fairly certain he's never mentioned his romantic endeavors to Sarah. Why would he? To him, none of it ever led anywhere, so there was no sense in telling her about it.

You don't want him to be nervous about sharing more about that part of his life. You have adored Sarah ever since you met her. Now, you're somewhat grateful that it took the two of you longer than normal to get here. It gave you a chance to show him that no matter the state of your relationship, you'll be there for Sarah, for Tommy, and for everyone he cares about.

Because you care about them too. 

“You visit here a lot?” 

He tips his chin, “We used to,” he answers and offers you his arm, you thread the gap between torso and tricep. “When she was five we came here a lot. Really liked it.” 

A half chuckle, half exhale leaves his lips. You give him a sympathetic look. “Well, maybe we can come here together one day. Tommy too. We can make a day of it, I bet she misses it.” 

"Yeah," his eyes glaze over for a second, looking ahead towards the sun-kissed street. You softly dig your nails into his arm, snapping him out of it. He blinks and tenses under your touch. "Yeah, we definitely should. Maybe during spring break or somethin’."

You squeeze his arm again, and when he turns to look at you, you smile. He returns it in kind, and you feel his smile leave an imprint on your skin as his lips touch your forehead.

“Can’t wait to show you all of it, sweet tea.” 

And he does. 

Joel shows you everything that he loves. The streets of Austin come alive with vibrant murals, each one captivating in its own way—some simple, some complicated. You see the South Congress Mural on South Congress Avenue that stands tall, its graffiti letters painted in vibrant colors, depicting the cityscape. The italicized phrase 'I Love You So Much,' spray-painted by Amy Cook for her partner Liz Lambert—Joel doesn't say much here. He stares at it for a while before gripping your hand tighter. Suddenly, he tugs your arm, pressing his lips firmly against yours, sucking the air from your lungs. Here, you take a quick coffee break and continue on.

There are so many. Your eyes catch sight of a mural depicting a piece of toast and yellow butter, lovingly painted on a vibrant blue wall, inside the piece of butter and toast it says “you’re my butter half”. You laugh and nudge Joel in the ribs and repeat the words to him. His smile is the widest you’ve ever seen. 

Joel introduces you to Jeremiah the Innocent. A smiling cartoonish frog, on top of it you read HI, HOW ARE YOU. He then told you that Jeremiah had another name as well— Ron. Named by, of course, Sarah. Leaning closer, you tell Joel that you agree, the frog looks much more like a Ron rather than a Jeremiah. 

After that Joel, a keeper of his word, takes you to a small Tex-Mex place. He orders chips and queso as an appetizer, followed up by two cold beers and tacos. 

"I think you might have killed me," you say, rubbing your stomach and leaning back as the cold metal of the chair bites into your skin.

Joel cocks an eyebrow, a small smile touching the corner of his lips. “So. . .no dessert?” 

“Don’t joke,” you answer seriously. “I always have room for dessert.” 

He laughs, “You sound like Sarah,” just as you begin to smile, he adds. “And Tommy actually. That man has an endless pit instead of a stomach.” 

“Tell me about it.” you grin. 

The sun begins to disappear, shades of light blue fading into something darker that lingers in the sky. It reminds you of the times when you angrily slap your widest brush on top of the canvas and just move it around without any aim or goal. The string lights come to life. Joel looks gorgeous under the soft glow; it's almost dreamlike. If you were to reach out, you're not entirely sure that he wouldn't fade away.

His hand finds yours over the table, lacing your fingers together. A stuttering, silent breath escapes your lips. The effects of alcohol buzz both in your veins and mind. His thumb traces your knuckles, a gesture so familiar yet foreign at the same time. With a smile, you bring the back of his hand to your lips before he does. You tenderly kiss him, feeling the softness of lips moving over the mountains and valleys of his hand. His breath hitches, and your ears feel warm.

"Should we head back?" he murmurs, his voice dipping into something darker. His thumb finds purchase on your lower lip and tugs on it, eliciting a soft gasp. "I think I'm gettin’ hungry again."

You kiss the pad of his thumb as he cups your cheek, and you nuzzle into the width of his palm. Wetness gathers between your legs, heat building at the base of your spine. You can't wait for him to devour you.

Joel’s fingers trace the spine of the book that lays idly on your bedside table. He adorns a soft smile, gaze curious as he picks it up. 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, turning your back as he begins to flip through the pages. “I’m going to freshen up a bit, make yourself comfortable.” 

With that, you exit the bedroom and head to the bathroom. You're feeling positively tingly. The ache in your bones would normally entice you to go to bed early, but sleep is the last thing on your mind right now. All you want is for that man to ravage you. During the drive back, the only thing on your mind was his lips, his hands, his cock—his weight on your body.

You quickly splash cold water onto your face, sighing as the cool numbness replaces the sticky sweat from the day. After brushing your teeth, you head back. 

You smile when you see Joel sitting at the edge of the bed, book still in hand. 

He’s looking at something. 

You raise an eyebrow, taking a step closer. There’s something in his hand, something smaller and vaguely familiar. 

Shit. 

Shit shit shit shit. 

“Joel?”  Your voice barely manages a whisper, you're surprised he hears your pleading call of his name. He flinches, shoulders raising all the way to his ears. You clear your throat. “What. . . What are you looking at?” 

You already know the answer. 

"How long have you had this?" he asks, every word sounding dull. He twists his body enough to face you, holding the small Polaroid picture between his fingers— oh god, you're screwed, aren't you?

"I-I can explain," you blurt out, increasing your steps' speed. You stand in front of him, the picture's glossy surface reflecting the light into your eyes. "You forgot your magazine, and when I opened it to read it, the... the picture just fell out, I swear! I know I should've told you, gave it back, but, well, I—"

Unable to keep your eyes open due to the constant spinning of the world around you, you close them. His gaze remains fixed on you, half moons hidden beneath bushy eyebrows. Embarrassment surges through you, heating you from the inside out. In a fit of desperation, you cover your face with both palms, sighing into them. "Fuck, I'm so sorry," you mutter, your voice muffled by your hands.

Joel stares at you, dumbfounded. With shaky legs, he stands and gently cups your wrists, tugging your hand away from your face. You refuse to meet his gaze, your eyes glued to a spot on his neck. You miss how wide his eyes are, how his gaze grows soft as he stares. 

“Why are you sorry?” he whispers. “I think you misunderstood, sunshine. I ain’t mad. I’m embarrassed.” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, lifting your gaze. “Why?” 

He smiles, “Lots of why’s goin’ around,” you continue to stare and he clicks his tongue. “It’s a half-naked picture of me. A picture that I took, you can’t blame me for gettin’ flustered.” 

“You look good.” 

“Thanks,” he scoffs with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I guess it’s better that you found it instead of. . . Tommy or worse.” 

You know what worse means. He’s right, he was lucky it had been you. 

“I’m just glad you’re not mad.” 

“Me, mad at you?” he shakes his head, looking appalled by the thought. “Never.” 

“Don’t be so sure.” 

His hands drop to your waist. Fingers roughened with work digging into your flesh. The excitement you felt comes rushing back, flooding your veins. Joel pins your hips together, the growing outline of his cock brushing your clothed mound. You gasp and he inches impossibly close, lips brushing your ear. “Why did you have it in your little book over there?” he drawls, his voice thick. “Did you touch yourself lookin’ at it, sweetheart?” 

Your voice shakes and you can barely get a word out. You swallow, shaking your head. 

“Don’t lie,” he hums. The drag of his lips down your neck turns your insides into mush. “Can I see?” 

“See what?” 

A moment of silence follows. You take this time to unbutton his jeans and slip a hand underneath the dense fabric. You cup his length, and it hardens in your palm, growing in size. Your breath hitches as his hips move forward, chasing the grip of your fingers. Taking a deep inhale, you breathe him in, filling yourself with his scent. 

“I wanna watch,” his voice cracks. “See how you touched yourself while thinkin’ of me.” 

Your breath hitches, “And what will you be doing?” 

You stroke him slowly, the pad of your thumb moving over the slit before moving down again. You shiver at the feeling of his hot breath against your skin. 

“I’ll be watchin’, sweetheart. Engraving your spread-out cunt into memory.” 

“Jesus, Joel,” you breathe heavily, your pulse loudly thrumming in your veins. Joel is absolutely filthy—something you never thought you’d be thinking. He tugs you towards the bed. With every step, another garment falls to the floor. You’re shivering all over, body cold yet warm at the same time. The expectation crackling in the air pricks at your skin. 

What is this? It never felt like this before. A need so desperate. A want so large. In this moment you’re convinced that you and Joel were always meant to be as pretentious that might sound. You have no idea how else to explain it. Every time you’re with him, even in the most peaceful moments, you feel an impending. . . something. You’re not sure what it is yet but you know it’s a wicked, dark feeling. A dystopian surrealism. The works of  Zdzisław Beksiński; death, destruction, shattered worlds. . . yet still beautiful. You love those paintings. Just like Joel, it leaves you uneasy and mystified. 

The air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the bedrest, your naked legs falling open like a butterflys’ wings. You wait for a touch that never comes. Joel drags the chair and takes a seat. He pulls out his hefty length, fingers loosely curling around it. You hold your breath. 

“Don’t keep me waitin’ now,” he rasps as he touches himself lazily. “Show me.” 

Your eyes never leave him, and you slowly circle your clit with two fingers. An immediate sense of relaxation and soft pleasure blossom over different patches of skin. You pinch the sensitive bundle of nerves and continue moving your fingers around. You arch your hips, wetness growing with every stroke. Your insides clench. Joel’s heavy breathing fills the room, your own breathing coming out in short pants. 

“Spread yourself darlin’,” his voice lowers, making your stomach turn. With two fingers you show him, spreading yourself s while you circle the middle one around your clit. A soft whimper of his name echoes from the back of your throat. It’s different like this. Knowing that he’s right there, staring, observing your every move. It lits a fire between your legs. A feeling so raw and open.  

Your ache swells inside of you like wildfire. You keen at the slick sounds of Joel’s fist accompanying your own lewd sounds. The rest of the world falls silent, your mind a complete blank, your sole focus on the man that makes you feel soft and tender. 

A build-up to an orgasm can be a strange thing. Sometimes you don’t think of anything or anyone, just focused on your fingers and the fire between your legs. Other times your imagination becomes so vivid that you swear there’s a cock splitting you open. Your stomach clenches, muscles rippling under the faux feeling of someone being there with you. And, technically, there is someone with you but not in the typical sense. Your back lifts from the mattress, your feet sliding down the soft sheets as your fingers move frantically. You can feel it hardening, throbbing under your ministrations. 

“That’s it,” Joel groans, the bed dips, you’re too far gone to notice he stopped jerking off and is inching closer for a better look. “Come for me, darlin’. Let’s see how you make a mess.” 

Your ears ring 

Your lips part so wide that the corners are aflame

Your throat constricts a silent plea

Your fingers twitch, insides pulsing as you gush and make a mess—just like he wanted. 

You love doing what he asks of you. 

You feel it trickling down the inside of your thighs, the curve of your ass. It’s too much. Whimpers rattling your chest, your throat sore. Joel mutters praise, telling you how good you are, how perfect. Another soft lingering orgasm warms you from the inside out, more drops of pure ecstasy spilling over. 

He trails his hand up the inside your thigh, slick gathering at the tips of his fingers. A soft gasp leaves your lips as you clench around nothing, “Next time I’m bringin’ the camera over.” you give him a look and he chuckles. “It’s only fair, don’t ya think?” 

“I don’t think that picture will be sexy as you think,” you answer, smiling. 

He frowns, his look almost glaring as he stares into your eyes, “Bulshit. You’re gorgeous. It’ll be like havin’. . . the . . . Mona Lisa in my pocket,” he says, slightly unsure.

"I do appreciate you using art references whenever you talk to me; it's like a gimmick," you grin and wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him closer. "Hey, if you want a picture, you can have one. Just promise not to leave it lying around like you did with your own. I don't need any more embarrassing moments in my life."

“We all have embarrassing moments.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a promise,” you answer with a playful lilt. He rolls his eyes, a hand sneaking down between your bodies, he aligns himself with your sopping sex, cock filling you slowly, inch by inch. Your eyelids flutter, a moan ripping from you. 

Fully inside you, he murmurs into your mouth, “I’ll guard it with my life. Promise.” 

His words fall on deaf ears. Your vision blurs at the stretch of his cock, drawing his hips back, only the bulbous head remains. He watches you. Watches your fluttering cunt adjust to the size, then, just as you’re about to say something, he slams into you. Electricity crackles over your skin, a sensation that makes you feel numb. Joel buries his head into your neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin as he sets a brutal pace. His strokes are slow and hard. Every ridge felt as he massages the insides of your cunt. It’s exhilarating. Breathtaking. So much so that you think you’re crying a little, soft salty tears gathering in your eyes. 

“You wanna know something?” he groans, fucking deeper into you. “I thought of you while takin’ the picture. Thought about this perfect cunt.” 

He holds your thighs with a heavy hold, pushing both legs up until your knees are grazing your forehead. You don’t think being a pretzel ever felt so good. Joel jackhammers into you, the wet glide of his cock leaves you breathless. Between narrowed eyes you watch him; his brows furrowed with concentration, lips slightly ajar, pink tongue poking out. He’s flushed. The soft tint of red looks good on him. You desperately want to bury your lips into his neck and lick the vein that meanders down, you want to sink your teeth into it. 

In a quick glimpse, his eyes briefly catch yours. The muscle in his jaw moves and he licks his lips, the color in his irises gone, eaten away by lust. You notice him pursing his lips and your eyes go wide, a thin line of saliva drips from his mouth, adding to the mess between your thighs. Your breath falters, you squeez him tight. His hips stutter but he’s not phased by the sudden tightness. 

“Touch yourself,” he commands, voice hoarse. “I wanna feel you comin’ around my cock.” 

You moan at how soaked you are, your fingers playing with the mixture of spit and slick. It doesn’t take you long. A couple swipes of your fingers and you’re seeing stars. Your orgasm sears you from the inside out, your entire body tensing at the force of his thrusts. With a knee-jerk reaction, you grip the back of your thigh, nails biting into your skin. He pushes your hand away, thumb soothingly going over the crescent-shaped marks. 

His unwavering gaze aggravates you. A sudden shame rolling in your stomach, he bats the thoughts away by allowing your legs to fall and frame his broad waist. Suddenly his lips are on your own, sucking your tongue into his mouth, swallowing the moans. He tastes your hesitations, your fears, your unsaid love for him—all of it, from a single, hungry, messy kiss. 

Joel’s hips slow down into a delicious grind, the coarse hairs that crown his cock doused, you feel the brush of his pelvis on the pearl that beats. Your insides flutter one last time before he’s pulling out, spilling over the soft flesh of your stomach. 

“Fuck,” he moans into your open mouth. You shudder at the trickle of seed on your skin. “That was amazin’ sweetheart. You always feel so fuckin’ good. ‘Can’t wrap my head around it.” 

You giggle, “I hope you know the feeling is mutual, neighbor,” you feel the wet drag of his lips down your cheek. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good before.” 

“You’re just sayin’ that,” he tuts, breath fanning your neck. 

“Do I need to remind you how we ended up in this bed?” you tease. “You, finding a picture of yourself that I masturbated to? If that doesn’t convince you I don’t know what will.” 

He thinks about it for a second then shrugs, “Fair.” 

“By the way thank you for. . . everything. I had a great time Joel,” you thread your fingers through his mussed hair and he lays his head on your chest. His hand gently cups the underside of your breast, a possessive gesture. You feel the scrape of his beard as he speaks. 

“I didn’t do nothin’ special. You deserve more.” 

Your heart clenches the ache of his self-deprecation a reflection of his inability to perceive his own worth. “Stop selling yourself short—” 

He cuts you off, “You deserve to have a relationship you don’t need to hide. It’s not fair.” 

Your heart splinters, torn between the desire to protect what you have and the yearning to be truthful to those that you love. When your silence grows, Joel look up to you, his eyes wide like full moons. And just as somber. Your lips crack in a smile. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “We’ll tell him eventually. When we’re ready, right?” 

He swallows, throat moving. “Yeah,” he answers, gaze breaking away from yours. “We will. When we’re ready.” 

Neither of you are brave enough to ask when that might be. 

The sun beats down on Tommy’s skin and with the back of his hand, he wipes away the sweat on his forehead. Next to the grill is always the hottest. It’s a beautiful day out, birds chirping, sun shining and whenever a cloud passes by, adding a bit of color to the boring blue sky, Tommy sighs in relief, enjoying the fleeting coolness of the passing shadow.

Joel is at the grill, and from the corner of his eye, Tommy sees him turning the ribs and chicken wings. A loud sizzle fills the air, and with a hiss, Joel backs away, cursing as a searing drop of fat lands on his tanned skin. In typical younger sibling fashion, Tommy laughs, earning an equally heated glare from his older brother. Neither of them says a word. Joel returns his gaze to the meats, while Tommy shifts his eyes back to the large bowl he's holding. It contains a mixture of a generous amount of barbecue sauce, olive oil, Worcestershire sauce, minced garlic, smoked paprika, cayenne pepper, salt, and black pepper. He gives them another vigorous stir before adding the stemless button mushrooms. He tosses them all together until each one is evenly coated.

A bead of sweat rolls down his face, “Joel, I know you have this sense of always wantin’ to be right but I doubt our recipe is gonna be the one to change her mind about mushrooms.” 

“It will,” he grunts, shirt dipping and sticking between his shoulder blades. “If she doesn’t, more for us.” 

“Well, I guess that’s one way to look at it.” 

Joel doesn’t answer and Tommy doesn’t bother to force a conversation. The silence he shares with his brother has always been a comfortable one, but lately, that hasn’t quite been the case. There’s this wall that he can’t seem to breach no matter what he does or says. And ever since Joel broke up with Asha, it only got worse. He can’t shake the sense that whatever his older brother had in mind, it must be about you. It has to be. 

Tommy’s feelings for you haven’t exactly disappeared. As much as he wished he had a button to turn it all off, he can’t, but he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t mind staying friends. What he feels for you is more than that. He enjoys your company, your jokes, your thoughts. He can’t imagine living out the rest of his life without it. 

However, he's not stupid, contrary to what many people might believe.

Tommy has noticed the stares, the weird tension in his brother’s shoulders whenever you’re around. Hell, if Joel has feelings for you he should just own up to it, talk about it. All Tommy wants is for Joel to come and talk to him. However, when it comes to romance, Joel rarely does. Even after the breakup with Asha, Joel barely said a word. Tommy later on learned the details from Asha and it fucking stung. 

Ever since they were little, Joel had this tendency to shoulder everything, it didn’t matter if the issue was big or small, he would carry it, and he would do so in silence. Tommy hated that. He wanted to talk about things, wanted to tell Joel about his nightmares, the blank notebook that Tommy can’t bring himself to write into—he desperately wants things to change. He wants Joel to stop playing the martyr. Tommy’s not a kid anymore, they can carry the weight together. 

“Gosh that smells delicious!”

Tommy jerks at the sound of your voice. Startled, he looks up and sees you making your way through Joel’s yard, carrying a Tupperware full of coleslaw and a pitcher of homemade iced tea. You place both items on the wooden table and walk toward the brothers. Just as you pass by Joel, your hand brushes his shoulder. Again, Tommy sees him visibly tense with the contact. 

You turn to Tommy, arms spread wide, a joyous grin stretched across your face. Tommy mimics the expression, pulling up a different kind of mask. He pulls you into a tight embrace and presses his lips ointo your forehead. 

"Oh, are those the mushrooms?" you ask, still held within Tommy's arms, your gaze lowered to the small table Joel brought out for food prep. "I'm both terrified and excited."

“I hope you’ll like’em,” Tommy answers. “Joel is convinced that you will.” 

You laugh and mouth at Tommy, "Do you think he'll explode if he turns out to be wrong?" Tommy can barely hide the snicker that escapes his lips.

“I heard that,” Joel grunts without looking. 

You expertly move the conversation along, “Where’s Sarah?” 

"She should be here soon," he responds. "She mentioned wanting to buy some lemon bars for the barbecue."

“Where is she buying them from? Olivia is going to come over too so she can pick Sarah up.” 

After discussing locations and making a quick phone call, Olivia happily agrees to pick up Sarah because, according to you, she's not that far away anyway. You help Tommy skewer the barbecue mushrooms, and conversation flows seamlessly. Even Joel gradually loosens up, relaxing as he starts to place the prepared skewers. You appear surprisingly cheerful, and Tommy doesn't mean to imply that you were ever a downer—rather, he hasn't seen you this relaxed in a long time. It seems the grief that had molded you months ago, forcing you to behave a certain way, had loosened around you. Now you see what he’s seen all along; that you deserved to make jokes and have fun and be happy. 

He likes to think he had a part to play in that with the renovation of the room.

In the midst of finishing up the mushrooms, a car stops, and a moment later, Olivia and Sarah hop out.

Sarah wastes no time wrapping her nimble arms around Tommy's neck, giving him a tight hug. Tommy returns the gesture in kind, lifting her off the ground a little. "Hey, sugarcube! How was school?"

"Boring," she answers, letting go. "How was work?"

Tommy scrunches up his nose, prompting a bubble of laughter from her. "Boring," he parrots.

While Sarah heads inside to change, Olivia places the lemon bars on the table and comes to greet you. The sizzle of the grill fills the air as Sarah's voice cuts through the lively atmosphere, calling out to Joel from the window of the house. "Dad, I can't find my purple shirt!" she exclaims. “You said you’d have it washed today!” 

Joel turns his attention away from the grill, a concerned furrow forming on his brow. "I'll be right there, sweetheart," he assures her. He looks over at Olivia. "Liv, can you man the grill for a moment?"

Olivia nods, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Consider it done. You go find that shirt."

With a grateful nod, Joel moves swiftly toward the house, leaving Olivia to handle the grilling duties. He passes by Tommy and you, giving a brief smile and a nod of acknowledgment before disappearing inside.

Tommy's gaze follows Olivia as she confidently takes charge of the grill, her tongs expertly flipping the remaining skewers and wings. There's a sense of ease in her movements, a natural grace that Tommy finds captivating. Her focused expression softens with a slight smile. 

Meanwhile, Tommy takes a moment to observe you as you retrieve a couple of cold beers from the cooler. The sunlight catches in your hair, casting a warm glow around you. 

You approach him with the beers in hand, Tommy can't help but be captivated by your infectious smile. It's a smile that reaches your eyes, radiating happiness and a genuine warmth that draws him in. He takes one of the beers from you, his fingers grazing against yours for a brief moment, sending a jolt of electricity through his veins.

"Cheers," you say, raising your bottle in a toast. Tommy mirrors your action, their bottles clinking together, the sound ringing in the air.

"Cheers," he replies, his voice laced with genuine affection. The clinking of the bottles marks a moment of connection, a shared bond that goes beyond mere friendship.

“Isn’t it interesting?” Olivia suddenly says, snapping your attention from Tommy to her. He frowns.  

“What is?” you ask. 

“That I’m here. . . doing all the work without a beer in my hand.” 

You roll your eyes, walking back to the cooler, “You could’ve just asked you know?” you tease, handing her a cold bottle. She shrugs with a wink. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

Tommy smells smoke. The crackling of flames too loud. Their banter fades into the background. His body grows tense by instinct, feeling the threat of danger that isn’t there. He becomes uncharacteristically still, listening, but not hearing anything. 

“Ah shit, I burnt it,” Olivia hisses, fanning the smoke with a moisturized hand. “Well, at least I only burned three of them. You guys think Joel will kill me?” 

He hears bits of the conversation, your laughter following Olivia’s words. The smoke in the air is thicker now, grayer. Sweat sticks to his skin and Tommy swears he feels the familiar feeling of hot dirt on his skin. Unaware, he starts rubbing his arms, trying to get rid of the sticky feeling. 

Tommy smells gunpowder. 

He hears bullets whizzing through the air. 

Just as the grill suddenly flares up, a searing pain jolts through Tommy's body. In his disoriented state, he misconstrues your touch on his back as a threat. Reacting instinctively, he moves away, his mind clouded. His hand inadvertently catches your wrist, twisting the limb. You let out a shout. 

A surge of guilt pierces Tommy's heart as he realizes that it’s you. His eyes widen with a mixture of fear and remorse, and he releases his grip on your wrist, his hands trembling. "Fuck, sorry—" he stammers, choked up. "I. . . I thought. . ."

Before he can finish his sentence, he sees Joel above your shoulder, his face etched with concern, closely followed by Sarah. 

"What happened?" Joel demands.

You step in before Tommy can explain, his chest heaves, “Nothing, I just startled him.” 

Joel doesn’t seem to buy it, his gaze fixed on his baby brother, he raises an eyebrow. “Tommy?” he asks again, his voice leveled. 

Tommy's gaze shifts from you to Joel and Sarah. He struggles to find the right words, his mind still tangled in a web. He doesn’t say a word, just shakes his head. Joel’s gaze softens, hands coming up to cup Tommy’s cheeks. He lifts his brother’s gaze to face his own. 

"It's okay, Tommy. We're here. We're safe, you’re home," when Tommy attempts to back away, Joel holds him tighter. "Let's just take a moment to breathe."

Tommy’s mind blanks for a second when Joel visibly takes a deep, slow breath. Joel looks at him with a sign of expectation and the younger Miller mimics the way he breathes. Deep and slow. One, two, three. Once more, and that’s it. He’s breathing again. The sky is blue again. 

“Shiiiit,” he exhales on the last breath. Joel drops his hands and takes a step back, you’re standing right next to him, brows drawn together. Suddenly the guilt is back. “I’m sorry,” he says the apology muffled by clenched teeth. “Are you. . . okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you say hovering back and forth, wanting to come closer but also not wanting to overwhelm him. “Do you need anything?” 

“I should be asking you that,” he takes a step closer, taking your wrist between his fingers. He gently smooths his thumb over where he bent—god, he’s a fucking mess. “We should put some ice on that.” 

“I got it!” Olivia jumps out, placing the end of the cold bottle on your wrist. You stifle a snort. She narrows her eyes at you. “That’s a weird way to say thank you.” 

You roll your eyes, “Thanks, Liv.” 

Tommy pulls away and takes a seat. Content in having calmed his brother, Joel returns to the grill and gives Olivia a look that screams, "What the hell have you done?!" 

He smiles, feeling his racing heart finally begin to calm down.

“Are you sure you’re alright uncle Tommy?” 

His eyes meet Sarah’s, two concerned and observant juvenile eyes staring into his own. He’s not sure what to say—no, he knows what to say, he just doesn’t know how to say it in a way that she’ll believe him. 

Without waiting for a response, Sarah sits next to him and reaches for two glasses and the pitcher. She pours iced tea into both. “Here,” she says, prompting him to replace the beer with the glass. Tommy obliges. 

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he murmurs. “That ain’t your responsibility.” 

“It’s not. . . but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t worry. And I know you can’t talk to me about it, I’m not dad, but you know I love you, right?” 

“‘Course I do,” Tommy answers quickly, ignoring the way the sun stings his eyes, he forces them to stay open. “Your dad takes good care of me. And I know you care, I appreciate the reminder though,” he lets out a sigh, drags a heavy palm down his face, and swallows. “I’m gonna get better.” I have to get better. 

Sarah doesn’t say another word. She slowly drops her head to his shoulder, looks over to her father who’s in the middle of placing three mushroom skewers on your plate. Tommy smiles. 

“They’re idiots,” she murmurs, he doesn’t miss the affectionate cadence in her tone. 

“Yeah,” Tommy answers. “But they’re our idiots.” 

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. However, your love for mushrooms still remained nonexistent, much to Joel's surprise. He was shocked to see that his and Tommy's barbecue mushrooms hadn't managed to convert you into an avid mushroom lover. In an attempt to mask the lingering taste, you nearly downed the entire pitcher of iced tea—making sure Joel wasn't looking, of course. He was still quite salty about not liking them. He even went far as to pout about it, which you found adorable if you’re being completely honest. You're not sure his ego could handle the thought of you desperately wanting to scrub your tongue with a sponge.

Olivia was the first one to leave as the scorching sun was replaced by shiny stars, and you helped with cleaning up. You noticed that Tommy was avoiding your gaze like the plague, and Joel remained silent about what had happened. Your wrist, although not physically hurting, still ached. You had promised him that you would be there for him, but you felt like you had failed miserably. You had no knowledge of what was going on in his head, and if today was any indication, there was a lot happening.

When he’s about to bid his farewells, you touch his forearm. It’s such a small gesture but he flinches anyway and you quickly withdraw your hand. You chew the inside of your cheek. 

“Do you want to come over?” you ask, swallowing. “I have some leftover wine.” 

It doesn’t take him long to answer but the seconds that pass feel like an eternity. He nods and gestures to the door. 

“I’ll be waitin’ outside, go get your things.” 

“Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in a sec.” 

He closes the door softly behind him. A click that is barely audible. You hear footsteps and turn to see Joel exiting the kitchen. “Everythin’ good?” he asks. 

“I think so, I invited Tommy over. I think it’ll be good to talk.” 

You see it in his eyes, the need to hold you, to cradle your cheeks and brush your lips together. The internal fight is visible from his expression. You figure which side wins when he remains still, staring, eyes flitting between you and the windows near the door. Tommy’s smoking a cigarette with his back turned. 

“I think so too,” he says, dropping his gaze to the floor. “He’s been more closed off lately and my usual grumpy self probably ain’t helpin’.” 

“I applaud you for admitting that you are, in fact, grumpy.” 

He tries to hide it but can’t, a small smile peeking from under his mustache. “Shut up.” 

“I really wanna say make me,” you grin and pick up your bag. “But I don’t think we have time for that.” 

“I’ll remember, don’t worry.” 

You ignore the way your legs press together at the sudden drop in his tone. The chill of the doorknob sends shivers down your spine. You’re afraid of being alone with Tommy. You’re scared that you’re going to blurt everything, all of it. You miss being able to talk to him—Tommy definitely wasn’t a stranger to the rants about the many failed romances in your life. With a sigh, you crack the door open. You hear a shift behind you. . . then a gentle hand on your waist. 

A kiss on the back of your neck. 

“Call me if you need anythin’.” 

“I will.” 

You finally step into the warm night. Tommy turns to you, exhaling smoke from his nostrils. The knot in your throat makes it hard to breathe, the younger Miller looks over your shoulder. 

“See ya later old timer,” he calls out to Joel. You don’t hear him answer but you’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, the click of the door follows. Cigarette loose between his lips, Tommy offers you his arm and you take it. 

The walk to your home is a silent one. 

Your house is ominous in the dark, quickly, you flick the lights open. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

“I always do,” he murmurs and takes off his shoes. “Would it be alright if we skip the wine? I’m not really feelin’ up for it.” 

“Of course,” you answer. “Do you want anything else?” 

“Nah. Let’s just talk.” 

The request takes you by surprise. You blink dumbly at the back of his head, and when the silence fills the space between you, he turns. He stares at you for a moment, gauging what your reaction means. His brows come together, a humorful smile tugging at one corner of his lips. 

“Why do you look so shocked? That’s why you invited me over right? To talk.” 

“I. . . Yeah, exactly.” 

He heads to the living room and you follow his trail like a lost duckling. “Before you say anythin’,” he says, lifting a hand as you take a seat next to him. “Let me apologize. I didn’t mean. . . I would never hurt you. Today was an accident, I got lost.” 

Lost. . . that was exactly what it was, wasn’t it? 

“It’s okay, it was my mistake really. I shouldn’t have touched you when you were so out of it. Can I. . . Can I ask what you were thinking about?” 

His shoulders raise, his breathing becomes shallow, “I think it was because of the smoke. I was right there, at the battlefield, again. Fuck. I didn’t know.” 

You wait for him to continue. 

“There ain’t much out there you know? Just you and a couple of brothers you made along the way. When you see them fall, it’s hard to erase the memory of it.” 

“No one is expecting you to erase it,” you whisper, your hand hovers above his knee and when he nods, you place itover the curve. “As hard as it is, that’s a part of you. No one blames you for today. No one is mad at you. We just want you to be okay—I want you to be okay.” 

“I know,” he murmurs. “I’m workin’ on it. I just hate talkin’ about it so much. I tried. . .I tried to be the hero you know? I tried so hard to make a difference. It didn’t mean nothin’ and when you realize the person you’re gunnin’ down is just as lost as you are, you realize there are no heroes in the battlefield.” a sudden chuckle bursts from his lips, compeltly void, he covers his face with a palm. “But I’m still so stupid. I still want to believe some difference can be made. I want to be good so fuckin’ bad and I don’t know why. I should be happy just doin’ my own thing like Joel but I’m not.” 

His words sink into your skin, blend with the blood in your veins, and suffocate your lungs. You want to cry. He sounds so broken, so hopeless. The need to hold him makes your knees tremble. You imagine an eighteen-year-old Tommy, signing up with the army with a hopeful gaze. You’ve heard the stories, remember Joel telling you the arguments that followed after that. Tommy hadn’t backed down, adamant about proving his brother wrong. The stubborn nature of it reminds you of your own brother, the endless arguments that would go on and on and on with your grandfather. 

The army takes their hopes and dreams and spits them out broken and strange. 

“You’re not stupid, Tommy,” you mutter, barely audible. “We all want to be good. There’s no shame in that. I’m. . .similar, I always want to do the right thing. I want to be good too. Don’t compare yourself to Joel he. . . he got lucky with Sarah. As long as she’s happy and safe he doesn’t care about right and wrong. We on the other hand, we’re still trying to find ourselves. It’s not as easy for us to make that distinction. We think endlessly about the ones who get caught in the crossfire.” 

God, but you aren’t doing the right thing. It’s easy to forget that with Joel’s lips on your skin—sure, maybe you’re not straight-up lying to him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re being dishonest. 

He looks at you with those puppy dog eyes. So round and wide. “People like you can’t try to be good,” he answers, confusing you. He waits, allowing the silence to follow as he thinks of his words. “You’re already good. You don’t need to try to be.” 

The confession bubbles up from your chest to your throat. You taste it. Sweet like sugar and deadly like poison. You have to tell him. You need to tell him. 

You lick your lips, your mouth  dry like sandpaper. He’s staring directly into your soul, he sees something hopeful. Something good. You want to shake him, tell him that he’s the good one. He doesn’t blink. Not once. You open your mouth. You’re going to do it, you’re going to tell him and whatever happens next, however he reacts, it’s what you deserve. 

Normally, Tommy’s eyes are a shade lighter compared to his older brother’s. While Joel’s eyes walk the line of being downright black, Tommy’s always reminds you of your favorite brand of chocolate. 

But right now it’s dark as night. Just like Joel’s. 

“Hey,” he finally blinks, smiling. The confession that had bubbled to the surface slowly simmers down. “We should get some sleep.” 

“But—” 

“I appreciate you talkin’ to me sweetheart. I. . . feel better, in a weird way,” he comes closer, kisses your cheek. His lips are damp. “I’ll be sure to talk to you more in the future, a’right? Promise.” 

“Okay,” you mumble. You both get up from the couch and saunter upstairs, the air that surrounds you lighter. He takes the guest bedroom, the room where August slept the week before. 

Tommy stills at the door, “Well, goodnight.” 

You can’t leave it at this, you just can’t. 

“Tommy, I need to tell you something.” your words are sharp and clear. His hand tightens around the doorknob, what does he think you’re about to say? 

“Yeah?” 

You can’t do it. Coward. 

“Do you need. . . another pillow?” 

“Um,” he opens the door, takes a look. “No, I’m good. Is that all you were gonna say?” 

“It is.” 

It isn’t. 

I'm sorry that this took me insanely long for some reason???? Honestly, I blame the fact that I'm not used to writing family dynamics, it's hard. 😭😭😭 but nonetheless I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, let me know what you guys thought 💜

I did make a post about it but I'll be taking a small break from SIB, I will return to it and will be working on it in the background but I really need to let my mind loose. The next two chapters are already outlined so y'all won't be waiting for that long! This isn't one of those series where the rest of the plot is lost in time and space and I'm too chicken to work on it lmaodfvd

Thank you so much for all the support!!

TO BE CONTINUED

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Super late on this one but haq. CONTINUE PLS LOL

Literally why would she KISS HIM

Fic: Alive, Part 24

Summary: Aidan traced the thin chain around his neck, rubbing the infinity pendant between his fingers. No longer a symbol of their everlasting love, it was something he touched in anger when he thought of Sage. It was the only thing of hers that still remained with him after eight years, the last possession which still connected them together. When he 4did find Sage again, and he would no matter how long it took, he planned to destroy the pendant - and her.

Taking place across two timelines, Alive tells the story of Aidan and Sage, high school sweethearts driven apart by who they are and where they come from. Once enemies then lovers, their relationship runs full circle when they meet again in the present, now prepared to destroy each other.

My Masterlist (contains links to previous parts)

Keep reading

[tiki-tequila]

haq u knew what u were doing releasing this in parts bc if u released it all at once I promise u I would have ran thru this story about 4 times by now 😝 ! your writing style soo addicting, I love ur dialogue scenes!

Fic: Alive, Part 23

Summary: Aidan traced the thin chain around his neck, rubbing the infinity pendant between his fingers. No longer a symbol of their everlasting love, it was something he touched in anger when he thought of Sage. It was the only thing of hers that still remained with him after eight years, the last possession which still connected them together. When he 4did find Sage again, and he would no matter how long it took, he planned to destroy the pendant - and her.

Taking place across two timelines, Alive tells the story of Aidan and Sage, high school sweethearts driven apart by who they are and where they come from. Once enemies then lovers, their relationship runs full circle when they meet again in the present, now prepared to destroy each other.

My Masterlist (contains links to previous parts)  

Keep reading

[tiki-tequila]

@queen-haq a woman reborn tease

obsessed where stories where it is like. the mistakes are unfixable and the worst thing that could happen happened and nothing can go back to how it was. but there was still love in this and love will continue after this and love endures always.

[tiki-tequila]

Screaming haq! How annoying is Aidan lmaoo taking Ziyahs photo like. U r a LOSER ! Crazy to think this is all just a miscommunication thing but idc i ride for my girl Sage ! (In all honesty i ride for any women characters in your fics haha!)

Can’t wait to see more of Aidan and Sage taunt each other 🤭 Bc Sage is so unbothered i know it ignites a different level of rage in him. Good. Muahahahah

Fic: Alive - Part 22

Summary: Aidan traced the thin chain around his neck, rubbing the infinity pendant between his fingers. No longer a symbol of their everlasting love, it was something he touched in anger when he thought of Sage. It was the only thing of hers that still remained with him after eight years, the last possession which still connected them together. When he 4did find Sage again, and he would no matter how long it took, he planned to destroy the pendant - and her.

Taking place across two timelines, Alive tells the story of Aidan and Sage, high school sweethearts driven apart by who they are and where they come from. Once enemies then lovers, their relationship runs full circle when they meet again in the present, now prepared to destroy each other.

My Masterlist (contains links to previous parts)

Keep reading

[tiki-tequila]

VICTORIA MONET - jaguar dir. by AOA (2020)

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Mississippi Masala (1991)

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i can’t find this one fanfic and its literally driving me crazy

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Men’s thighs. Reblog you agree

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tiana’s outfits in the princess and the frog (2009) dir. john musker & ron clements

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カオスちゃんねる : その一枚でドラマ・メッセージを感じる画像

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[tiki-tequila]

update: didn’t go on the date (lol) i went back home for a week and one of my closest friends didn’t see me bc she didnt want to reschedule a date AND my other close friend didn’t make me a bridesmaid in her wedding because i’m ‘too far away’ then proceeded to invite me to the bridal festivities anyway (???)

this man wants to take me on a date and i’m so ;_; about it bc i’m a big SCAREDY BABY i need a pep talk i need a tequila shot i need some comfort and affection