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coeurify · 10 months

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I have no idea how this would fit into an storyline but I am a hoe for fake dating. Imagine fake dating with abby and it slowly becoming too real

UGH YOU GET ME FAKE DATING IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES!!

⋆˚✿˖° now, abby anderson had a problem. specifically a blonde, brown eyed loud mouthed man of a problem. owen fucking moore. she had broken up with him in the summer time, little explanation given to the ass of a boyfriend other than that she needed to “find herself.” (not that she needed to give any.)

⋆˚✿˖° but owen? oh owen didn’t accept that. so from the very moment abby had broken it off, to when the air began to smell like fall.. he pestered abby. asked for a reason, begged for another chance (despite HIM going around with damn near every girl on the WLF compound.)

⋆˚✿˖° things came to a head at a get together in one of abby and owen’s mutual friend’s apartment style quarters. mutual friend who also happened to be your roommate.

⋆˚✿˖° abby and owen fought all night, abby’s cheeks red from embarrassment and anger, eyebrows furrowed together. “why can’t you just take no for an answer owen?“ the cup in her hand crackled a bit under the pressure when the man scoffed. “because you never give me a real answer!” abby’s arms crossed at that, searching around the room. quickly, and maybe a little impulsively, she shrugged. “i’m into someone else now.”

⋆˚✿˖° owen just couldn’t accept that, his arms thrown around dramatically. “so you like another guy? that’s why you wont give me another chance? you know i can treat you better.” that sentence alone reminded abby just why she hated being with him so much, but again that fast moving brain of hers spoke before the thought could finish, finger pointing in the direction of the first person she found.. you. “it’s not a guy. it’s a girl. im not.. into your..” abby made a motion, “species anymore.” sure, it was sort of true. abby recently realized she probably had a thing for girls, but you particularly? she couldn’t count on her fingers the amount of conversations she had with. “i like her.”

⋆˚✿˖° you, who’s head poked up, mouth full of slightly stale chips, having heard the whole conversation. abby anderson, beautiful, funny, madeyouweakintheknees, abby anderson was into you? and not straight? surely not. you swallowed harshly, deciding to play into whatever game abby seemed to have set on the floor. you made your way over, an award winning smile on your face as owen’s mouth dropped open further than a damn infected. “You like her? as in girls?”

⋆˚✿˖° honestly, you probably caused more trouble when you stood near the two, “abs!” you grinned, “you forgot your jacket here.. cmere ill grab it for you.” and then your hand is wrapped around her tensed bicep, the stiffness likely caused by her pure shock you even played along. still, she used it as an out from the devil with blonde locks, shrugging almost apologetically at owen before letting you whisk her away.

⋆˚✿˖° and that night, after everyone but you and abby had stumbled out of the cramped room, which was still humid and heavy, you made the plan. with a pen that had little ink left, scratching against the water damaged pages of the notebook you tucked under your pillow, you wrote the words “project get rid of owen moore.” which ok, in retrospect sounded really bad. but you were a little tipsy.

⋆˚✿˖° the plan was easy. play the role of abby’s first girlfriend, convince owen she was totally not into him or men anymore. what did you get out of it? a spot on the top dog abby anderson’s patrol team. something you had been vying for this year. abby agreed, although a little hesitantly. she promised she had picked you only because its who her pointed finger found first. not any actual attraction. you swallowed down the hit to your ego that brought.

⋆˚✿˖° and honestly? the plan went on pretty steadily. you were a damn good fake girlfriend if you had to admit it, and abby didn’t hate being around you. in fact, she really enjoyed being around you. she enjoyed how easily your fingers reached down, tapping on her palm to fing a way to hold her hand whenever one of owen’s posey was around. she enjoyed how you leaned in whenever owen passed by, your lips on her ear, whispering anything you knew would have her smiling. a fake smile of course.

⋆˚✿˖° you two had some pretty strict rules. no kissing, no extreme touchiness, absolutely no spilling to anyone this was fake, and the most important.. no real feelings. you had come up with a backstory, one you two had studied together. (you two met in the training room after your roommate introduced you two and totally hit it off. abby got you a spot on her team next to her and manny, and feeling bloomed from there.) abby added in a few details she knew would piss owen off.. and you sealed your lips shut to follow the rules.

⋆˚✿˖° the first few weeks were easy. you liked spending time around abby. you enjoyed how she smiled, you laughed at all the jokes she cracked (for the fake dating points of course..), and you loved training with her. you had to ignore the shiver her hands on your shoulders or waist gave, knowing it was just to help your position. “you have to fix your stance if you plan on fighting scars..” abby huffed.

⋆˚✿˖° the problem started in october. a month and a half into your fake dating plan. tens of lunches spent alone together, a handful of new hair styles you begged to try on abby, and around 5 missions out of the base, in. there was a party, one you demanded the two of you go to one day as you lounged on abby’s bunk— watching as she cleaned up manny’s mess across the room. “if we dress up together, owen will totally finally get off your case,” you assured, bringing a loud sigh from the blonde. “oh my god.. fine.”

⋆˚✿˖° you went as a angel and devil, simple enough to easy stitch together some devil horns for yourself and an angel halo you found in an old broken down store in the city for abby. no way did you admit the trouble you went for to find it to abs, especially not as she easily pulled her shirt off in front of you, totally clueing you in to where the nickname came from as she shoved on the white teeshirt.

⋆˚✿˖° see, the no kissing rule was an important one, but vodka made everything seem less important, and owen was awfully loud that night, scoffing any time you smiled and leaned into your angel, head band tilting off your head, which abby fixed with a grin. “you two act more like friends than people fucking each other,” owen scoffed as he pressed by you two, the words pounding in abby’s ears over the loud mingling voices.

⋆˚✿˖° “kiss me,” abby called over the old cd that played on the speakers, her cheeks red with anger— blue eyes flicking around. “what?” you laughed, thinking back to rule number 1. “i know we said no— no kissing but i just.. oh my god just kiss me,” abby muttered, her large hands gripping your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss, one she was sure owen was watching on to. one you melted into, sucking her lip in between yours.

⋆˚✿˖° that had been a breaking point, ragged breaths and heated necks as you pulled away. it lead to more excuses with less validity being used when the two of you stared at each other’s lips. stepping down the stairs of the base, eyes catching on someone who just looked like owen. “kiss me,” abby muttered quickly, and you wasted no time to turn your head and fill your nose with the scent of pine as you leaned in.

⋆˚✿˖° the no kissing rule crossed off right before the no touchiness one did, that one had been scribbled off completely when abby began pulling you into her lap in group functions, one soft hand rubbing up against your side as she whispered in your ear, “jus’ for show.”

⋆˚✿˖° just for show of course, but you screamed into your pillow for so long that night you almost thought the walls of your room would crumble down along with the barrier you put between you and the blonde.

⋆˚✿˖° kisses and touchiness turned to nights spent in abby’s room, mornings waking up and having abby’s shirt thrown at your face. “wear that, owen got it for me when we were dating.” sure, you probably should be ashamed to be wearing the clothes of a girl who didn’t like you, but the frown on owen’s face made it worth it.

⋆˚✿˖° that last rule, the one that didn’t have pen strokes over the letters, the one locked behind awkward coughs and side glances, well you weren’t sure who broke it first. you dont know why feelings came into play, but you sure do know it happened.

⋆˚✿˖° you felt it first when abby didn’t talk to you for a few days. you saw her across the stadium with nora, her head tilted back lightly in a laugh at something the other girl said. that was the first time you felt the needle sized ache in your heart, one that only ripped further when owen shoulder checked you on his way by, “better get your girl. she slips away easily.”

⋆˚✿˖° maybe that rule had been broken when abby stormed into your room, met with the sight of you on the couch with some other blonde girl, an old tape of a southern movie mid way through when anderson scoffed and demanded the girl get out. she did so in a hurry, scrambling for her sweatshirt as a frown grew on your lips. “abby what the fuck?” you scoff, watching her eyebrows unfurrow lightly. “you can’t have other girls over! it fucks with our plan,” she accused, though she stumbled lightly over the words. “she’s just a friend, abby.”

⋆˚✿˖° however, the night you sat in your bed, breath heavy and eyes stinging as you broke through the paper with the pen, scratching over the words “no real feelings,” that came in the end of november.

⋆˚✿˖° your head was pressed into abby’s shoulder, yawning and closing your eyes as the movie played on a big sheet, a biweekly occurrence in the WLF base. abby had pressed to your cheek, placing a kiss to it that had some sort of butterfly attack take fruition in your stomach. you two didn’t even know if owen or his friends were around, and they for sure were not the reason of abby’s hand linking into yours as you two walked toward her room later that night. you both seemed to realize that when you reached her door and she leaned forward just lightly, as if to kiss you.

⋆˚✿˖° she cleared her throat, licking over the lips you wanted to capture again. “i think-” she said suddenly, squeezing her eyes closed. “i think owen really believes it now.” you could feel your heart sinking to the empty stomach that laid below your chest, knowing what came next. “i think we should break up.” abby finished, quick to add, “fake break up.”

⋆˚✿˖° you nodded along silently to the story she built still standing in her doorway. miscommunication, arguments, differing plans, the whole shebang— anything to make the breakup believable. you agreed, but the moment her door shut, a half smile and thank you sitting on her lips as the door locked, you felt the tears prick your eyes.

⋆˚✿˖° you wiped quickly at the tears, your hand slapped over the aching chest you swore betrayed you. you sucked in shallow breaths, shaky hands finding your own door as your vision went blurry.

⋆˚✿˖° as your pen broke through the white sheet of paper, you cursed your own heart. you cursed it for being so easy to rip from your chest, presented on a platter for a blonde who only saw it as a fake replica. you threw the notebook across the floor, hand slapping over your mouth so your roommate wouldn’t wake as you sobbed into it. surely you had been the only one to break that rule, but that didn’t matter now.

⋆˚✿˖° but you were wrong. not that you could know that. a five minute walk away, abby breathed out slowly as her fingers scraped though the braid she was undoing, an odd stinging pricked at the corner of her lashes. she knew she did the right thing. she knew it as soon as her lips searched for your own at her doorway tonight. so why did it feel so bad? why did her hands tremble as she pulled out her blanket and climbed under it, squeezing her eyes shut.

⋆˚✿˖° if this was all fake, why did the break up feel so real?

#rins reqs ❀.#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson fic #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fluff

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mrsjellymunson · 3 months

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KNOCK AT THE CABIN | Prologue

Written for @bettyfrommars, @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing’s Stranger Prompts, Prompt 1. He shows up at your house covered in mud in the rain, but the problem is, he died two months ago.

Series Summary: After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But is it really him?

Chapter Summary: On a stormy night, an unexpected visitor arrives.

WC: 1.14k

Series C/W: 🔞 18+, MDNI, NSFW. I mean it, if you’re under 18, git! Post-S4, Upside Down exists, dark/supernatural themes. Eventual Eddie Munson x fem!reader smut. Swearing. Not much to caution about in this part, unless you don’t like rain, or bad decor.

A/N: This series contains a lot of things I haven’t written for before, so I’d love to know what you think! Please comment and reblog, it means the world to writers, and reblogs mean work gets seen. This series has a taglist so if you’d like to be on either it, or my general list, lemme know in a comment, ask or message 🙏💗

You’re holed up in an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Hawkins. It’s not exactly remote, but the nearest building is little more than a speck on the horizon so you feel pretty isolated. Owens organised it, explaining it would be a good idea for the older members of the party to lay low for a little while. Nancy had put forward an excellent argument for remaining with her family, but you, Robin and Steve had reluctantly packed up some of your belongings and relocated here. For how long, you don’t know.

It’s no palace. The wood-built building is certainly past its best, the yellowing 50s kitchen barely functional and the faded decor not to anyone's taste. But it’s (mostly) warm, (usually) dry, and most importantly, it feels safe. Which is something you all need after the events of the past few months.

You’re all acutely aware of the obvious gap in your merry band. Owens had insisted that the three of you didn’t attend the funeral, but he’d involved you as much as he could, ferrying messages between you and the kids and Wayne, discussing what he would’ve wanted to wear (you all agreed on his spare Hellfire shirt and leather jacket, knowing he’d never want to be separated from either, plus a brand new, government-funded pair of black 501s), and sneaking mementoes to you with Wayne’s approval.

Mike and Will have taken charge of his D&D paraphernalia, Dustin got his wallet chain (and wears it with literally everything, even his Weird Al shirts and colourful shorts), and Lucas opted for a small pocket knife. You, Steve and Robin each have one of his rings. Steve and Robin keep theirs in their rooms, but you wear the silver skull every day. It’s too big for your fingers, and is even a little loose on your thumb, but that’s where you keep it, spinning it to ease your anxiety, and smoothing the pads of your fingers over its bumpy surface to remind you of the friend you’ve lost. Rueing the fact that you always wanted him to be more than that, but never had the chance to find out whether he felt the same.

The kids visit periodically, even staying over sometimes, nobody expecting anyone to be watching the comings and goings of a bunch of nerdy teens. Nancy drops them off, sometimes staying, sometimes not. On this occasion she’d dropped and run, explaining that she was going to visit Max in the hospital tomorrow, spending some quality girly time with her. Lucas, who usually spent every spare moment by her bedside, was going to spend the weekend here, after Max, still seriously ill but now well enough to communicate, insisted that he needed to spend at least a bit of time with his old friends.

Tonight, you’d had a movie marathon, Keith developing an uncharacteristically generous side since everything kicked off and periodically dropping off and collecting piles of VHS tapes. Not quite generous enough to bring you any brand new releases, but even things you’ve seen before are better than the ‘sweet FA’ you’d have available given the nonexistent TV reception around here.

Popcorn litters the floor and the saggy furniture, as do gangly boys and a long-haired girl. Jane has commandeered the sole armchair, sitting in it cross-legged, and you, Steve and Robin are squashed onto the sofa with an equally squashed Dustin, the latter insisting that there was definitely room for one more.

Mike and Will are on the floor between the sofa and the old, battered coffee table. Mike’s hunched over a bowl of chips that he’s shovelling in, and Will is leaning against your legs, you stroking his hair in a way you know he finds comforting. Lucas is lounging on the floor at the side of the table, his long body stretched out and his head supported on threadbare throw pillows.

The gentle patter of drizzly rain against the windows and roof, and the crackle of the open fire, one of your only sources of heating, gives the evening a cosy feel, though you hope the rain doesn’t get any heavier as you don’t entirely trust the roof over the rear extension to cope with much more meteorological abuse.

You’ve just finished Raiders Of the Lost Ark and Steve has got up to swap it out for The Stuff, when there’s a strong gust of wind and the rainfall picks up significantly. Great, you think, the weather gods definitely weren’t listening to your silent pleas.

None of you notice Jane stiffening in her seat and shifting uncomfortably.

Under the lashing of the wind and rain there’s a sudden noise at the front door. Not urgent, not loud, just two soft thuds. If the kids had been roughhousing or the film had been on you may even have missed them.

You all look at each other, instantly and equally on edge, and all hoping that somebody, anybody, will provide a simple explanation for this.

Steve’s the first to speak. Jaw slack and brow furrowed, he asks the room, “Uhh, did anyone order takeout?”

There’s a cacophony of ‘no’s’ and shaken heads, before another soft thud is heard, just one this time.

Steve steels himself, not for the first time realising that it’s his responsibility to investigate the possibly terrifying, and potentially life-threatening, situation. He stands from his position by the video player and moves towards the door, fingertips skimming the top of the bat that’s always to the side of it, before closing his hand softly around the handle.

He pulls back the sliding bolts before twisting the lock and pulling the door open just a crack, leaving the chain on. The noise of the weather increases in volume, but other than that there’s no indication of what’s on the other side.

Steve has his back to you so you don’t see his eyes go wide, but you do hear a soft, “Wh- What the fuck?”

Robin being Robin, and perpetually thinking about her stomach, she says,

“What is it, doofus? Pleeease tell me it’s Jonathon and Argyle dropping by from Cali with some delicious Surfer Boy pizza??”

“Uh, no, it’s, uh- You know what? Maybe you should just come and see for yourself. Wait, scratch that, just the adults.”

Knowing this will unwittingly pique the interest of the kids more than if he’d just allowed everyone to come look, you and Robin glance at each other before quickly rising and moving to the door.

Steve closes it and takes off the chain, opening it wide as the three of you arrive, the kids following close behind and trying to look between you.

There, hunched, shivering, soaking wet and covered in mud, is your friend. The one who’d died saving the town. The one they’d buried only a few days ago, after he’d been lying on a slab in a lab somewhere for weeks.

Eddie.

Thanks so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this. Lemme know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts.

Extra tags: @jamdoughnutmagician @joejoequinnquinn

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cranberryjuice-posts · 3 months

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I kissed a girl and liked it

Pairings - teenage Abby anderson X lesbian! Fem! reader

An - abby and reader Are 16/17, this is around a year after Jerry’s death and Owen n abby r still together

Tw - reader smokes, making out, cheating (again don’t cheat on your partners)

Synopsis- Abby is a confused young queer girl who doesn’t know if she likes women or not and you being a good friend help her out

Abby was currently hanging out at owens place. He shared an apartment with a few other rookie soldiers but Abby didn’t mind just as long as she got to hangout with him.

At this point it was 2am and Owen was passed out asleep, Abby however was awake. She just silently walked in circles until she heard a nock at the window.

She moved to the sound and opened it where she found you standing. “Hey hot stuff” You teased which made the blonde blush.

“What are You doing here so late” she chuckled and tucked some hair behind her ear. You hardly saw her with her hair down but when you did you made sure to pay attention.

“What are You doing up so late hm?” You asked Back with a teasing grin. “Well I couldnt Sleep” Abby leaned forward on the window.

“Then I couldnt Sleep either” Abby just rolled her eyes at your response. She then noticed you had your backpack on. “What’s with the bag? Are you going out or something?”

You just shook your head. “Nah I’m going to go smoke”

“Smoke? Y/n isn’t it to early for that” she slightly criticized but you just gave her a sarcastic look. “Really? I’m 16 abs I think infected or a scar will kill me before smoking some weed”

“I meant its 2am”

“Oh..”

There was some awkward silence before you just rolled your eyes. “So are you gonna come with me or not”

Abby shook her head “not unfortunately, owens asleep and I’d feel bad leaving him”

“Fuck Owen dude, come hang out with me it’ll be a hundred times better I swear” you spoke with a clear distaste for Owen, abby could never figure out why you hated him so much.

After a few moments abby looked back at her sleeping boyfriend before nodding. “Allright you win” You jumped excited and helped the blonde out of the window and onto the stair case.

Normally Both of you walked down and into the city bellow, it helped that the rookies homes was stationed in an old apartment complex inside the WLF QZ and super close to the stadium so whenever you felt like skipping out you were able to just explore the abandoned city.

This time however you started to go up the fire escape. “Where are you going” Abby yelled after you while pulling her hair back into a braid.

“You’ll see!” You shouted back and continued to climb, Abby of course had no choice but to follow.

Soon you two were up at the roof. You set your bag down and laid out a few blankets some snacks you stole and two rolled joints as-well as your water canister.

Abby took a seat beside you, enjoying the cold breeze the light from the full moon and just the comfortable silence.. the starts were bright and Abby couldn’t help but stare at them wondering if old world had ever gotten to see the stars like this.

You leaned over and pointed to a constellation. “See that constellation there, that’s Hercules and there riiighhhht above it that’s Lyra” looking over you saw Abby’s smile and you gave a content sigh before moving back.

“So.. how’s that book about greek myths you found going?” She asked as you light the blunt. You nodded excitedly and smiled. “Great actually! I can’t believe people were able to think of stories like these”

The two of you continued to talk and pass the blunt around. Abby loved being around you, she would even think more than she liked being around Owen but she would never admit it. She studied how you looked under the moonlight with your cute pj pants sports bra and jacket, the way your hair complimented your face and skin tone and your lips… she looked away embarrassed but you took note.

You softly stopped laughing and put up a face of concern wondering if you had said something wrong “What’s wrong abs?” her cheeks were a soft red. There was some silence and you grew more worried, leaning forward more towards her. “Hey, you can talk to me” you touched her hand with a certain comfort that Abby couldn’t take it anymore

She breathed out gently and leaned on her arm. “Your like into women right”

Confused and taken back you nodded “uh yeah I’m really only into women men just don’t do it for me” Abby took in the information.

“Right.. well I mean I’m with Owen so I wouldn’t know but what’s it like, being with a girl?” She finally looked over at you. You were still confused but decided to humor Her, you moved your hand away and placed it on your thigh. “Uh it’s nice… I mean there’s this certian understanding between both of you that you could never find with a guy, I mean girls are soft gentle you both just want to be loved unconditionally so it’s easier to show that with them… plus it’s funner to kiss them” You threw in the final joke but Abby just nodded.

“Ok..” was all she spoke, Abby looked back to the scenery down bellow.. you gave her a suspicious look before chuckling.

“Abby do you want to kiss a girl?” You teased but Abby shook her head a little to quickly. You laughed and moved to face her better. “It’s ok, your pretty cute so if you really really wanted to someone would”

She just rolled her eyes but eventually made eye contact with you. There was silence.. neither of you made a move but it was clear both wanted to. After a moment both reached forward and kissed each other.

You stood in your knees with your hands in Abby hair. Inhaling she took in your subtle perfume and the cherry chapstick you always wore. Abby grabbed your waist and pulled you into her as you both kissed.

It was different from when she kissed Owen, you followed Abby’s lead and worked with her to make the entire kiss enjoyable. The way your hands ran through her braided hair and caressed her cheek. Abby ran her hands up and down your back with subtle shy touches to your butt which made you laugh in the kiss.

She hated how wrong it was but shit did it feel right. Your soft lips on hers, the way you started to kiss down her jaw and eventually landing on her neck.

Abby gasped once you started to lightly suck on her neck, your new position was laying in-between Abby’s legs with your hands tracing her body. She gently tucked some hair behind your ear while you kissed her and leaned back to give you more room.

——

You two laid on your backs, your head was laying on Abby’s chest and her arm was around you. Neither daring to speak of what you two had just done. Would owen be mad if he found out you two made out yes, yes he would but if he didn’t know then there’s no way he would mind right.. right.

You felt Abby pull you closer and you just chuckled.. sitting up you kissed her cheek before her lips softly. “Common, let’s get you back before your sucky boyfriend wakes up” you joked and started to pack up, mainly you wanted to leave because you knew you loved Abby but there was no way she would love you back.

You dropped Abby back off and helped her into the window.. silently looking at each-other you finally turned and left to go back to your place, Abby gripped the window seal and watched as you walked away, she wished she could regret what you two had done but deep down she knew that was the best kiss she ever had..

The following day at training you avoided Abby not wanting to make things awkward even though you knew that was the last thing to do to not make shit awakard.

Abby sat down exhausted and Owen followed. He tried to lean over and kiss her but she just pulled back putting a hand on his chest and giving a small smile. Owen rolled his eyes playfully and looked down confused.

“Where’d you get that” he touched her neck gently rubbing the hickey you accidently left.. Abby paniced and cleared her throat.

“Oh uh it’s just a bruise, some kid was throwing rocks and it hit me in the throat” Abby lied, Owen however put on a more serious look. “Damn.. just be more careful ok”

“Yeah ok” Abby reassured him. He kissed her cheek but little did he know she was looking behind him and at you.

——

A week later Abby broke up with Owen.

Abby - *kisses y/n*

Abby -I’m a homosexual.. IM A HOMOSEXUAL😢

—

#Spotify #lesbian #wlw #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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r3starttt · 4 months

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Dress: you and Abby are good friends but you have secret crush on her. You go to a party together and you get buzzed but not drunk and start spilling your guts about your secret crush on her. Little do you know she's secretly been pining over you as well.

Zinnia

a/n: 🤓☝️ Zinnias symbolize endurance, lasting affection, and friendship.

Also, I changed things but the og idea is there I promise 🫠

Warnings: none I think, let me know if there’s any cause this is pure fluff and a bit of angst ig?

Abby had broken up with his boyfriend some weeks ago. It’s not a secret how much you hated Owen since you meet him, so both of you were struggling right now.

Abby felt like shit and you didn’t know how to comfort her, you were happy she left him, but it broke your heart to se her like this, you’ve never seen her cry before, not even this mad.

You didn’t understand why Abby would be crying over such a dumb men like Owen. They met when they were younger, probably high school. When you met her she was already dating him and the more you knew about him, the more annoying you find him.

Abby knew, and would do anything so you wouldn’t be near him, however she never understood what was so wrong about him that made you hate him so much. And no, it wasn’t the fact that you’d meet Abby hoping she was into girls, or the fact that you loved her as more than a friend, not even that he was annoying itself.

You hated him because he would treat abby in the most disrespectful way a man could treat her girlfriend, because every time abby was with him she’d transform. Because you knew how much Abby liked him and how much he would take advantage of it.

And now your feelings were so confusing. You were glad they were over, but you hated the reason. You felt your heart sink when Abby got to your shared apartment crying as you’ve never seen before because she found out Owen was cheating on her.

You also hated how happy you were about this, because you knew how you had no chance with her so feeling positive about this was disgusting and shameful. But you couldn’t help it.

So when you two got invited to a friend’s party none of you hesitated, you needed to get drunk because you couldn’t take seeing her like this and you were definitely more overwhelmed than you should, and she needed to forget about her ex, at least for one day.

Once you were ready and you got out of your room you noticed Abby waiting for you in the living room, laying on a large couch. You glanced at her muscles on full display thanks to the blank tank top she had chosen tu wear, and her long toned legs resting on top of a small coffee table that was settled in the middle of the room.

“You’re ready?” she asked, moving her head slightly to look at you “Mhm” you nodded, signing a small yes.

You walked towards the door, grabbing a small purse that u usually took everywhere as you hear her standing from the couch. The sound of a leader jacket adjusting over her body and the tap of her shoes behind you.

Once you arrived to the party you were greeted by your friend, who went almost immediately towards Abby and tried to comfort her. She seemed uncomfortable, but that look on her face disappeared once she was offered a drink.

You decided to go straight to the kitchen of the house, you were determined to get as drunk as possible. Maybe that’ll make you forget about everything, at least for a long while.

The music was loud, making you feel the beat on your body and not letting you hear anything else than your own self. You kept on drinking, hoping the alcohol could make its effect on you, and it was.

That until you saw Abby, apparently alcohol doesn’t have any effect on the heart. You felt so desperate, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the situation itself, but you couldn’t hold yourself from feeling the need of tasting every bit of her body, to press your lips on top of hers and her body, to make her scream your name and beg for more. And it was so cruel that you couldn’t.

She signed at you to come closer, she had got rid of her jacket and her muscles were basically shining at your sight. You walked towards her, feeling dizzy as the best of the music could be felt on your body.

“What?” You screamed at her so she could hear you properly. She put the beer she was holding on top of a counter near the two of you and just stared at you “Stop drinking, I’m the one that’s supposed to be taken care of don’t you think?” a cocky smile formed on her face, and so did on yours “sorry” your reply came out more like a small mumble than a word but she understood, she just chuckled.

You felt her hands grabbing yours and taking the red cup with alcohol in it away from your hands, yet before you could say anything she lead you to what seemed like the living room, helping you get on a couch. You noticed your friends sitting there as well.

You felt some weight besides you, there was no need to turn around to know who it was. Just by the strands of blonde hair and the feeling of a muscular arm touching yours you knew more than well that Abby was besides you.

“It’s not fair” you say out of nowhere, turning your body towards Abby “what’s not fair?” she asks in confusion “He never deserved you Abby, he’s such a dick. How dares he to treat you like that for years and then cheat on you after all you’ve done for him? fucking asshole” she just chuckles “fucking hate him so much” you let your body lay on the couch, placing both of your hands on top of your stomach and moving your head towards Abby’s.

“You’re way prettier than her” she furrows her eyebrows in response “why do I feel like your more mad than I am?” the sarcasm on her voice made you smile unconsciously “why did you even date him on a first place? He’s hideous” you feel how her arm hits yours softly “why do you hate him so much? he never treated you bad, did he?” You nodded your head as a no.

“I’m jealous of him, he’s been so fucking lucky having someone like you on his life” you felt the tears forming in your throat, it was painful “he also treated you like shit, he never took the chance to understand you, he never cared about you and it was painful to see you with him” just shut up, you thought to yourself.

She didn’t reply, and it made you feel nervous. You saw how she took a sip from her beer and placed it again in between her legs, you gulped silently and stood up, not being able to stand the awkward silence between both. She grabbed your wrist “I’m going for the last one, I promise” your eyes went immediately to her lips, it was painful how much you needed a taste of them. She let you go.

As you were in the kitchen drinking what you expected to be your last drink the same friend that had greeted you when you first entered the house spoke to you. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, the pain of your last talk with Abby or the music, but you just couldn’t understand a single thing she was saying, you were getting overwhelmed.

“Are you good?” your brain finally connected the words that seemed like murmurs “Why?” you replied in pure confusion. “You’ve been drinking nonstop” your eyes rolled impulsively as a chuckle came out of your mouth “I feel like shit, hopefully alcohol helps”.

She moved her hands to your shoulders, making you look at her “It’s Abby isn’t?” you felt like throwing up “What’re you talking about?” the beer in your hand was now being tasted, desperately “You like her, am I wrong?” Fuck.

“I won’t say anything, just…. you can talk to me if you want to” and so you did. The beer vibrating on your hand as you placed it top of the counter. “I first talked to her because I liked her. When she told me she had a boyfriend I was dumb enough to think I’ll do good if we stayed at friends” your friend just nodded.

“And then I was even more stupid to agree and move with her to the fucking apartment. I couldn’t take Owen, he wasn’t just annoying, he definitely knew I liked Abby and would do anything to make me suffer. He’d insist abby to take me with them, the fucking excuse being he was trying to be more close with me…. and abby believed every word of it” you felt the tears growing on your eyes “And now I’m so confused because I’m happy they broke up you know? but it’s fucking overwhelming to see her sad like this, it’s gross that I even feel happy, I should be supportive but I just don’t know what to do. I’m so pathetic, I don’t even have a chance with her, I feel like this whole situation has never been fair for us”

Before the tears could run all over your face you took another sip of your beer. You felt the knot of tears on your throat slowly disappearing. “I can’t stand looking at her and feeling so desperate, and I feel like I’m just…. cheating her too” your friend hugged you, and as she did you noticed Abby, just staring at you as she rested her body on the door frame.

She couldn’t have heard you right? Music was louder than your words, or that’s what it felt like in the moment.

Just as you pulled off from the caring embrace of your friend you left the beer on the counter, passing by your friend, almost as if you were running towards Abby. There was no need to explain anything.

Before you could say anything she apologized, a small sorry came out of her mouth. She moved her arm to the back of your neck, pulling you closer to her chest. You mover your arms around her waist, this is all you needed right now.

“You heard me didn’t you?” finally the alcohol was making its part because you didn’t felt ashamed, or maybe it was the mix of the drunkenness and her body holding you, whatever it was it didn’t matter “Why you never mentioned anything Mhm?” her voice was so smooth, so tender.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything” you murmured, loud enough for her to hear you “I’m sorry” you pulled away from her, staring at her eyes in search of any sign that let you know how Abby was feeling.

“Don’t be” his lips moved upwards slightly, and you were about to do the most dumb thing ever. If she had already heard anything why not kiss her before she actually freaks out.

So your lips press on hers before you even realize what you’re doing, and she doesn’t move. You try to pull away but her hands pull you closer, moving to the back of your neck and cupping your face softly.

The taste of your alcoholic saliva mixed with hers made you feel clouded, it tasted way better that you could ever imagine.

“It would’ve changed everything” she replied once she breaks the kiss. The look on her eyes was so different from what you’ve seen before and that definitely had some sort of effect on your body because whatever you were feeling now wasn’t because of the alcohol.

You were so close to her, to her face that you desired to look for so long, to her body that you dreamed of touching so many times before. It felt surreal. Her hands moved from your face to your waist, pressing it gently and making small circles on each side.

“Let’s go home mhm?” suddenly her voice sounded so husky, so genuine and desperate. You we’re gonna taste every inch of her body tonight, any explanation you needed about whatever was going on could wait.

“Fuck you” you did had to let her know you were fucking exploding in confusion though. She just rolled her eyes at you and pulled you for another kiss. Fucking dream you were living today.

#abby anderson #abby x you #abby smut #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby fluff #abby x reader #abby anderson fluff #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson smut #abby headcanons #lesbian #tlou2 #ren masterlist ᵎᵎ ִ ۫ ּ ⊹

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mangosrar · 6 months

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Always, i will be here.

chris sturniolo x reader

a/n: guys this one is lowkey-highkey sad but i love it so much:(

loosely based off always by Daniel Caesar!!!!

My y/n,

I wonder when i first met you, in a way that was more than just physical. I wonder when a line in a song reminded me of you, or the first time i walked past someone who carried a scent so similar to yours, that i questioned if you had just walked past me, or the first time someone made a joke so good i had to relay it to you later and pretended it was my own.

I always thought that heart break was caused by mean words said so harshly they pierce the soul. But in reality, they’re from goodbyes that weren’t told, kisses never shared and hugs never felt. These are the ingredients of a broken heart and they can never be fixed. Broken beyond repair.

The thing is even if you could go back, you wouldnt belong there anymore. I still perform autopsies on conversations we had lives ago. They could hook me up to a polygraph and ask me if i still love you, i would say no, and the line would jump and stutter in the exact pattern of your laugh. It feels better to die at your hands y/n, than to never have felt them at all. The heart has its own memory, and i have forgotern nothing, so dont set me on fire and act like you're the one burning.

I remember once you told me you killed a plant by feeding it too much water, and now you worry love is voilence and i know i always say you hold on to too much and every time you reply; asking me where you should put it down. This is starting to look like a contest of who cares less but i liked it better when you were on my side. Im afraid i will love you for the rest of my life and we will never be in the same room again, and im worried the amount of time we have left together is limited so please lingre near the door or forget your jacket and come back for it later. Please just tell me that im not as forgetable as your absence is making me feel. You only hate the people you love, and i know i could never be someone you dont like.

But surrounded by the churches and the dirt, i fell in love with you here. I had never told you. I wish i was braver. It's okay to not be who you thought you would be. But now summer is almost over, my feelings didnt change, and you aren't coming back. But always, i will be here y/n.

My Chris,

Christopher Owen Sturniolo, you have siezed my spine, took my bones and left me to melt into a sticky pile of mush where my body used to be.

I have spent half of my life loving you, and the other half figuring out my love for you. If i could write a book on all the things i wished you would have said, i would run out of pages. I feel like a kid at christmas whos been hopelessly dreaming about getting a pony,only to be given socks. I pushed you out and now youre so far away i cant even reach for you. I could call you a hundred names and scream and shout about why you were awful. But where would that leave me. I still loved you. I still have to live with that.

Its like youve taken a part of me and left it where i cant find it. I tried to forgive you, so i could move on, but how is that possible when i find you in every song, every tone, every frequency and every static. My brain cannot move an inch without bumping into some part of you. You are just a burning house that i want to live in, so why can't you let me put you out?

I wish you had left me wondering. I think it would have hurt much less if i never knew what made you fall out of love with me. You held me tight as i weeped like a little girl who had just dropped her ice cream, you kissed the top of my head and rocked us back and forth. You muffled my sobs with your lips. You whispered sweet nothings to me as i cried in your arms. You wiped the tears that fell for the heart you broke. You told me there will always be a piece of your heart that belongs to me. You have stained me. Tainted and bruised my soul. You told me that you’ve never had a love like ours and never will. You said that you’re future wife will know about me. Your kids will learn what love is through the stories you tell them about us. And suddenly, im at the kitchen table. Crying. Wondering what went wrong. But always, i will be here chris.

@christinarowie332 @jcwrites-blog @sturnphilia @biimpanicking @sssturniolofart @lividnity

LMK WHAT YALL THINK!!!!

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angelkissiies · 1 year

Text

high infidelity

abby anderson x reader

cw : cheating/infidelity ,, angst

wc : 1.7K

The funny thing about the apocalypse is the fact that the scariest thing isn’t infected, no they don’t even come close. To you, the scariest thing about the desolate world now was the repetitive knock on your bedroom door once all the lights had ceased. It was a girl, a tension, a fleeting intimacy. It was a ball of dread that formed every time you saw her with him. It was the ability to remember the soft brush of her lips but forget the fact that every time she left, she went home to him. Cruel and unusual punishment, stemming from the overwhelming love you carried for her, for a girl who’d never love you in the way you love her.

“This isn’t right, Abs.” you cautioned, taking a small gulp as she inched closer to your lips. She had a boyfriend, there was no way she was thinking clearly. She loved him, right? There was no denying your heart racing, no matter how much you knew she’d regret it- regret you, all you saw was the way she stared at your trembling lips. “You’re with Owen.”

The girl paused momentarily, almost as if she was debating it before she moved her eyes to your own. “I want to kiss you and I know I shouldn't.” She whispered, voice quiet as she pushed her previous activities with Owen to the back of her mind. For some reason, they didn’t hold a candle to the blossom of light she nursed in her chest as she felt your breath fan across her face. For some reason, the girl she’d known her whole life felt a whole lot like home. “Nobody has to know, it'll be only once.”

Words escaped you as you sat entranced beneath her, focusing on the heat that had risen into your face. She was everything you’d wanted, for as long as you could remember it had always been her. “O-okay. Just once.” You hummed, taking in a shaky breath as you followed her eyes, attempting to read her thoughts.

Once turned into twice turned into a couple dozen times. That led to the moment you had her oh-so-familiar knock on the door of your bedroom, sending your stomach into a tight knot as you took longer than usual to get to the door- to allow her back into the vulnerability she’d dug out of you- to allow her in. It felt just like every other night, every other useless display of affection. The doorknob felt like lead, but you forced it to turn, opening the door wide enough to let her squeeze in as you made sure nobody saw her come in. It was a ritual, one that you performed under the false pretense that maybe she’d ever love you.

“Hey, Abs.” You spoke quietly, shutting the door with a soft click before turning the lock. So far nobody knew of your infidelitous escapades, and you preferred to keep it that way. She looked beautiful, as she did most nights, but it was different today. Her hair was free of its usual fishtail, draped casually over her shoulders as she peeled off her jacket, and her eyes seemed brighter- glossier.

She threw a smile at you as she tossed the garment onto your table haphazardly, spinning around to face you in the compacted corners of your hallway. “Miss me?” She asked, beckoning you to follow her deeper into the room you called home. “Who am I kidding, you always miss me.”

It was almost funny if the statement hadn’t been true. Despite the guilt you felt going into the situationship you found yourself in, you’d begun to anticipate the moments you got with the girl. Your reasoning being that you’d never get a chance like this again, soon she’d realize how much she’d fucked up and it would all be gone. The intimacy, the late-night calls, the remnants of your friendship. So hell, why not enjoy the thing you longed for the most before she’d never talk to you again.

“What’ve you been up to?” You ask the girl, following in step behind her as she took a seat on the couch on the far side of the room. It was just like it was every night, the nervous tension that followed you around like a blinded haze as you anticipated her next moves. It was like a game of chess, she moved, you moved and somehow she always won.

Abby shrugged, moving to untie her boots. “Nothing, just dealing with Owen’s bullshit.” She huffed, her words tightening as she mentioned his name. It wasn’t unusual for her to bring him up, but it hadn’t ceased to send a jolt of nausea through you. “Enough about me though. What about you? I feel like I've barely seen you around.”

‘For good reason,’ you thought to yourself, pulling your lip between your teeth as you pulled your sleeves down your arms to accompany the chill that had overtaken your body. Was there a good answer to this? Was there something you could say that would distract her from the fact that you’d locked yourself in your room all day, hiding from her watchful eye. No matter where you were, you could feel her gaze linger on you, sending a burst of color into your skin. And guilt into your consciousness. “I’m fine, just wasn’t feeling too good today.” You settled on, watching as the girls' brows furrowed, sensing deception.

“Sick?” She asked, pushing the pair of heavy work boots to the corner. Abby wasn’t stupid, no not in the slightest. She knew something was up, from your separated stance and the hesitation in your words whence she spoke to you. “Come here, let me check your temperature.” This was her way of weeding out the truth, finding the real reason for your obvious off-pittance to her.

You cursed yourself, not willing to break your train of lies, shuffling over to where she sat. “It’s probably not too bad, I just-” You began, but getting abruptly cut off by her strong hand coming up to pull you down onto her lap.

“Abby!”

The girl laughed lightly, hands coming around to brush the now frizzy hair from your face. “(y/n), I know you're not sick.” She stated matter-of-factly, eyes trained on yours as she now attempted to read you. That was much easier for her, seeing as it was her job to know what everyone else was going to do before they did it, and you were no exception. Yet, when she probed deeper into the story your eyes had to tell- you ripped them away from her own. “Why won’t you look at me?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Abby..” Your voice was trembling, leading her to release her hold on you. You shuffled over to rest on the opposite side of the couch, avoiding looking at her. You already knew what you’d see, the hurt expression she carried like an open wound, the one that shattered your heart into a million pieces, the one she knew would bring you back to her. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Abby furrowed her brows, lips parting as she struggled to find the words to say. Her chest felt tight, breathing getting heavier as she just stared. You were the only thing she looked forward to, her eyes finding you in a crowd before she could even find herself. The time she got with you was precious, she devoted herself to it.

You took a shaky breath, glancing up at her before finding interest in the cushion of the couch. “Whatever this is, it’s-,”

“Please don’t say it.” Her voice trembled, and the anxiety had twisted her stomach into knots, causing her breathing to go shallow as she fought the pricking tears.

The room fell into silence as you halted, your heart hurting as you thought about the life you were throwing away. If it could only be as easy as asking her to choose, to stay here. To give him up. You couldn’t do that to her, you knew how much they’d been through together.

The girl beside you slid off of the couch, coming to sit up on her knees in front of you. Her striking blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she peered up at you. It was her way of leveling with you, as that’s all she could think to do, hoping you’d change your mind. “Stay with me, please.” She whispered, hands resting on your knees gently.

“I can’t be second to him anymore, Abby.” You admitted, shaking your head as you wiped the quickly escaping tears from your cheeks. You hadn’t intended to cry, wanting to break this off on a good note, but the universe had other plans. “I love you, but I just can’t.”

She knew this would come one day, though she didn’t expect it to be so soon. Something inside of her wanted to give in to you, to march into her apartment right now and break up with Owen, but she couldn’t bring herself to throw away so many years of her life for something she didn’t know would last. As much as she loved you, she feared leaving the safety of familiarity. She spoke of her love in poetic terms but she found herself faltering on her follow-through as she slowly pulled her hands away from you. “I won’t leave him if that’s what you’re asking of me.” She murmured, casting her eyes down. “I love you but he’s my past.”

You felt the sobs shake your body as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Let me be your future.” You pleaded, words coming out broken as you battled the emptiness that had started pulsing in your chest.

Abby felt your words pierce her heart, filling her with an indescribable sadness as she mulled over the things she’d be giving up by leaving you now. You were everything, but Owen used to be her everything, so how long until you turned into nothing just like him? Her face was tinged red, eyes gaining a hazy fog as she fought herself. It was eating her from the inside out.

“I-I have to go.” She rushed, pushing herself off of her knees, grabbing her shoes, and heading for the front door. She was moving so fast that she forgot her jacket, barely even noticing it as she struggled to unlock the door. Her hands were shaking so badly it took her over a minute to get it open, practically vaulting herself outside before slamming the door closed behind her.

You just stared at the door, stunned.

She just left.

#abby tlou #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson ff #abby anderson angst #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us part 2 #x reader #the last of us #tlou part 2 #ellie williams

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sc0tters · 9 months

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The Best Favour Yet | Owen Power

summary: Kent asks Owen to help you settle in when you move to Buffalo, that favour ends up being the reason for some of your favourite memories with the love of your life.

request: yes/no

warnings: some allusions to sex.

word count: 2.1k

authors note: this request made me laugh because it literally said Owen dating Kent’s sister and all the chaos that would entail. Started writing this as a regular oneshot but I hated it so I’ve just made it a 5+1.

Kent never planned on this.

When he asked Owen to keep an eye on you once you got accepted at Buffalo State University. Kent never once let the thought of you falling for one of his best friends.

1. ❝he’s like totally harmless.❞

to PowPow 🔫: thanks for checking in with y/n I appreciate it

to y/n 👾: remember Owen is like totally harmless!

You were nervous to meet the boy, sure you had spoken to Owen in person before but it was never by yourself. Usually Kent was around for those moments as he didn’t want to let any of the guys think that they could have the chance to make a move on you.

Once they reached sophomore year you were merely just a name to them though as you were going to university in Florida.

A year of that was more than enough and you had transferred to Buffalo for your sophomore year.

But as the cold Buffalo breeze chilled your face as you clutched the sides of your jacket you began to lose hope “y/n!” Owen called out as he recognised your stature from anywhere.

Owen would never admit it but he did have the tiniest of crushes on you that he felt in his freshman year the first time he met you “hi Owen.” You smiled as you spun around to face him.

You looked up at him as he gave you a hug “I’ve got a few different restaurants in mine so whatever you-” the hockey player began to ramble as he didn’t realise that his nerves were showing.

It took you giving his hand a squeeze for him to calm down “you’re the local, I trust you Owen.” You nodded as you sent him a serious look to show that you were down for anything.

And that night you laughed so hard your stomach hurt and you even managed to make eating pizza look good because Owen looked at you like you were the only girl in the world.

2. ❝you’re a sabres fan now,❞

You had to say that you were surprised that it took Owen three weeks before he invited you to a Sabres game. Every time the game was in Buffalo you’d watch from your dorm window as fans lined the road up to the KeyBank Center.

So as you stood in the waiting area with WAGs and other members of the players friends and families you couldn’t help but wish you were back there in the comfort of your dorm.

Sure the people were nice but you weren’t one of them, you were meant to be a simple college kid “you made it!” Owens cheer pulled you out of your thoughts as he wrapped his arms around you.

The older players watched on in amusement as they pieced together why the umich alumni seemed so loved up over the past month “wouldn’t miss this for the world,” you smiled as him still having his skates on meant that you had to tilt your head up further to look at him.

He swore he was on cloud nine when he realised you were wearing the jersey that he had given you just days prior “you like the outfit?” You asked as you did a little spin so he could see your outfit in its whole.

Owen sucked at his teeth as he tried to remain calm seeing Power on your back “you’re a sabres fan now you know that right?” He teased as he had seen all of the Blue Jackets memorabilia from Kent that decorated your side of your dorm.

You shrugged as you ran your fingers through your hair “I’ve been called worse if I’m honest.” You joked causing him to let out a laugh.

A lightbulb seemed to go off above his head “you gotta meet the rest of the boys!” Owen wrapped his arm around your shoulder as he pulled you into the direction of more of his teammates.

3. ❝too good for this world,❞

On Tuesdays if you had late lectures Owen would pick you up and you’d spend the evening at his. Each time you’d take turns being head chef when it came to making meals.

This particular Tuesday it was your turn and you were making spaghetti bolognaise “Power don’t you dare!” You could see the smirk on his face as he leaned against the counter behind him.

Owen laughed as you continued to watch the pasta boil “I’m not doing anything.” He raised his hands in surrender as he pushed himself off of the counter as he walked over to you.

You scoffed as you shook your head “I can see it in your eyes that there is something up there.” You pointed to his head causing him to smile.

His hands landed on either side of you “are they telling you that I think you’re beautiful?” Owen asked letting his voice act like a gentle hum over the sound boiling pasta water.

Warmth spread over your cheeks as you tried to bury your face in his chest “I’m serious!” He laughed as his hands cupped your cheeks so he could continue to look at him.

Your tongue danced over your teeth “why me?” You let the question you had been wondering for weeks finally come out.

Owens cold thumb cooled your face as it softly rubbed circles on your cheek “because you’re perfect y/n,” the hockey player hadn’t told you about how he truly felt before.

He sighed when you shook your head “I wish you’d see that you’re too good for this world sweets.” Owen confessed as he let his head drop so that his lips barely hovered over your own.

The air around you went silent “what about dinner?” You statement had to be pushed out of your lips.

It made Owen smirk “I can be done before that pasta is ready.” He proposed as he turned the heat down a setting.

That seemed to be all you needed to carry on “let’s not waste anytime then.” You shrugged before his hand was on your jaw letting him kiss your lips.

4. ❝I’ll count to three,❞

It had been two months since you started dating Owen. Besides for your close friends nobody else knew and that was because you two didn’t know how to tell Kent.

Your brother knew you had a boyfriend because you had been in the process of soft launching your relationship on Instagram, but all of those questions were met with coy answers.

So when the long awaited day came around when the Blue Jackets were playing in Buffalo you knew you had to tell your brother.

But that morning when your mind was full of clouds as you were still half asleep you didn’t think twice when you opened the door to Owens apartment in nothing more than one of his shirts.

Kent on the other hand was shocked to see his sister stood in his friend’s apartment “where is Owen?” He asked as he furrowed his eyebrows.

That was what seemed to wake you up “oh Ken-” you stammered over your words as your eyes widened “babe who is there?” Owen called out from the kitchen.

You couldn’t rack your brain for what to say “it’s Kent!” That seemed to get the right response out of Owen as he came out to the entryway.

The Blue Jackets player really didn’t know what to do “you just called my sister babe?” Kent honestly zoned out once he heard you get that title.

Owen could see the upset look on his friends face “let’s just talk about th-” he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck “I’ll count to three because I like you.” Kent cut him off as he walked into the apartment.

You let your lips swirl in as your eyes went wide “baby?” Owen looked to you for help as Kent got to one “run and lock a door.” You proposed as your brother got to two.

Part of you watched in amusement as Owen ran to the end of the hall when Kent got to three.

5. ❝wrapped around her finger,❞

Kent loved you, truly you were his little sister that he wanted to protect in bubble wrap. So it wasn’t surprising that it took him four months to be okay with the idea of going on holiday with you and Owen.

That was until your brother was reminded of the fact that you were going to be sleeping in a bed with your boyfriend.

Quickly the relaxing holiday turned into one that he didn’t get sleep in “morning baby,” you smiled as you found your boyfriend stood in the kitchen making coffee.

Owen was quick to swipe away from you “I brushed my teeth,” you pointed out as you smelt your breath wondering if that was the problem “what if he sees?” Owen whined as he still seemed to be scared of Kent’s threats “they are both still sleeping.” You grumbled as you pouted your lips not enjoying the fact that your boyfriend was ignoring you.

That was a sight that Owen truly couldn’t say no to so he placed the coffee mug down on the counter causing you to smile “always getting what I want,” you pointed out.

Owen nodded “my baby got me wrapped around her finger for days.” He never did seem to mind admitting that you just how whipped he was.

Your hands wrapped around his waist “think you should show me that then,” you proposed as just as his lips touched yours Kent had to walk in “I do not need to be made an uncle on this trip please?” He begged as he scrunched his face in disgust even once you had pulled away from Owen.

A laugh left your lips “but wouldn’t we be such cute parents daddy?” You let the words fall out of your mouth like butter.

Both Owen and Kent’s eyes went wide. Of course your boyfriend could see the mischievous look on your face and it clearly meant you were doing this to screw with your brother “you’ve got two seconds to get your hands off of-” Kent didn’t even need to finish his sentence before Owen listened and took two steps away from you.

A frown formed on your face “you’re no fun,” you mumbled as you looked at the Sabres player.

“it’s hard to be when you’re trying to get me killed!

+ 1 ❝what’d you say?❞

The last three years had been a whirlwind, whilst you hadn’t made Kent an uncle just yet you and Owen had your fair share of pregnancy scares that you both agreed were secrets you’d take to your grave.

With each day that went by you found yourself falling deeper in love with him. You had the house, the pets, and the love so there was only really two things left on that checklist.

Bless Owen for being clueless but you spent the last three months trying to hint at the wedding ring you liked but that seemed to just fall on deaf ears.

So now you took matters into your own hands as you watched him get ready for boys night “baby,” you sang as you were sat on your bed watching him pick an outfit for tonight.

Owen continued looking through his clothes as he smiled “yes?” He asked wondering what it was that you wanted to ask him “I want to marry you.” You announced as you swung your legs against the frame of your bed.

You had truly never seen him stop what he was doing that fast before “what’d you say?” Owen looked like he had seen a ghost as he walked over to you.

It made you confused “just said I wanted to marry you.” You shrugged as you watched him lean over to his bedside table drawer as he pulled out a velvet box “was gonna ask you this weekend.” He pointed out as he revealed what looked like the ring of your dreams.

A gasp left your lips “you were?” You knew he was taking you on a mini trip to Canada so that you two could go stay in the mountains for a week as it was the start of the off season.

He nodded as he sat next to you “pretty sure I can take this as a yes then?” Owen joked as he placed a kiss to your temple seeing the tears form in your eyes.

You smiled as you let out a sniffle “don’t get it twisted I asked first!”

#owen power #Owen power imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #imagines #oneshots #amber writes fics

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thot-of-khonshu · 3 months

Text

All Access, Chapter 2

All Access Masterlist | Ko-Fi | A03 Link

Pairing: 70s rockstar! frankie morales x f! reader

Rating: 18+ (explicit, minors do not interact)

Word Count: 7.4K

Summary: You're officially on the road with Triple Frontier and you try to adapt to a boys club. After Benny makes a misogynistic comment, you lean into the arms of Frankie and things quickly get hot and heavy.

Content: 70s au, drug use, heavy partying, triple frontier as rockstars, vietnam war discussion, misogyny, explicit smut, fingering, p in v sex

Thank you all so much for the love on this and for everyone's continuous help in any beta reading/reblogs. @pedropascal-whore and @nostalxgic thank you so so so much for your continued help!

Please don’t forget to like, comment, reblog!!!

There's a giant doin' cartwheels, a statue wearin' high heels

Look at all the happy creatures dancin' on the lawn

Dinosaur Victrola, listenin' to Buck Owens

Doot, doot, doo, lookin' out my back door

Benny was currently orchestrating a sing-along with everyone on the bus, the radio blasting CCR as you drove past green pastures. Benny loved sing-alongs.

They all loved sing-alongs. That was the first thing you’d noticed when you boarded the tour bus with the guys.

Your roommate had dropped you off, surveying the scene like a mom watching her kid on the first day of school. She asked if you were sure you wanted to do this. So many people had asked this question over the last week, why the hell would you ever say no?

You knew deep down that they had a point. The music industry was a beast with teeth, and being the lone woman on a bus full of rock stars wasn't exactly a walk in the park. You didn't have a lot of experience with men, let alone with famous ones, but there was something about the opportunity to tell their story–their real story–that compelled you. You had a feeling in your gut that this was the path for you, the path to your future.

The guys had also welcomed you with open arms, between the maelstrom of stale cigarette smoke and the musky scent of leather jackets and guitar cases they had given you your own space in the form of a bunk bed.

In the brief time you’ve been on the bus with them, you’ve been able to take out your journal and pen, and jot down observations and thoughts. Every so often, your gaze drifted over to the boys, studying their mannerisms, and the way they interacted with each other.

Santiago was the charmer, flirting with anyone and everyone, including you. His confidence was palpable, but you had a feeling there was more to him than just his cockiness.

Benny was the jokester, always cracking a smile or a bad pun, lightening the mood when it got tense. His playful nature was endearing, and you couldn't help but feel drawn to his warm personality.

Will was the stoic one, never letting his emotions show. You sensed a deeper layer of pain beneath his gruff exterior, and you were determined to uncover what it was.

Frankie, with his soulful eyes and kind smile, was a mystery. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you, a bond that you couldn't explain. You wanted to know more about him, but you knew he was a man of few words.

With your observations jotted down in your journal, you leaned back in your seat, listening to the low rumble of the bus and watching the landscape pass by.

"Mind if I sit here?" Santiago's voice cut through your thoughts, his voice smooth and inviting.

"Of course," you replied, flashing him a quick smile as you shuffled your belongings to make room. He slid into the seat beside you, his presence immediately commanding, like a spotlight finding its mark on a dimly lit stage.

"Getting some good material for your story?" he asked, nodding towards your journal.

"Always," you said with a small smile, feeling the weight of the assignment on your shoulders. "Got to capture the essence while it's fresh."

Santiago chuckled, a low and raspy sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Well, you're in the right place. This tour is gonna be a wild ride."

"If it's like the other night at the Chateau, I can't even imagine."

He grinned, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Oh, sweetheart, that was just the beginning. You ain't seen nothing yet."

"Fillmore West," you murmured the venue you were on your way to, sketching out the bare bones of the article in your head. The name alone carried weight, history—a legacy of acts that had stood where Triple Frontier would soon take the stage.

"Big shoes to fill," you whispered, more to the passing trees than to anyone on the bus.

"Biggest," Santiago agreed. "But we'll fill 'em."

"Confident," you noted, unable to suppress a smile.

"Realistic," he countered, a spark of humor lighting up his features for a fleeting moment.

"Well, you've certainly got the attitude," you teased.

Santiago shrugged before leaning back in his seat, his long legs sprawled out before him. "I'd prefer to call it passion."

You cocked an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

"Sure," he said, his gaze meeting yours. "When you love something–when it's your whole fucking life–you gotta give it your all, you know? You gotta go balls to the wall, all in. Anything less isn't worth it."

"Interesting," you said, intrigued by his perspective. "So what about the fans, then? Is it the same for them?"

Santiago thought for a moment, his eyes fixed on the passing scenery. "Yeah, I guess so. They're as invested as we are: they show up, scream their lungs out, and buy our records. They're part of the machine, just like us."

"The machine, huh? Do you think it's fair to say that the music industry is a machine? That everyone is just a cog in the wheel, working to keep it running?"

Santiago shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips, "Fuck no. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there. If you want to survive, you gotta be willing to fight for what you believe in. You gotta be hungry, and you gotta be ruthless."

"Ruthless, huh? And that's how you got where you are now?"

"It's how I've survived this long."

You nodded, processing his words.

Santiago leaned in to whisper to you, tapping a rhythm against his thigh. "Speaking of passion, Frankie couldn't stop talking about how passionate you were about your work. ‘Said it was refreshing to see someone so dedicated."

Your heart stumbled over a beat, the mention of Frankie sending a curious warmth radiating through your chest. You turned to Santiago, trying to gauge the sincerity in his words. "He said that?"

"Yep." Santiago gave a nonchalant shrug, but his eyes twinkled with mischief. "Frankie doesn't give out compliments easily. You must've made quite the impression."

An unfamiliar fluttering sensation took residence in your stomach, a mixture of nerves and something elusively akin to excitement. You tucked the feeling away, instead focusing on the story unfolding before you. "Well, impressions are part of the job, aren't they?"

"Sure, but not everyone leaves a lasting one." He watched you for a moment, a knowing look etched onto his face.

"Let's hope I can live up to it then," you quipped, eager to steer the conversation back to safer territory.

"Something tells me you will," Santiago replied. Picking up on your nervousness, he changed the topic. "Just remember, this is a two-way street. We're giving you a glimpse behind the curtain, so you gotta share a bit of yourself, too."

You considered his words, surprised at his openness. "Fair enough. I'll do my best."

He sauntered back to his bandmates, leaving you with a notebook full of scribbles and a mind swirling with possibilities.

Frankie thought you were special.

The idea sent a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cool breeze sneaking in through the cracks of the bus.

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

The clang of silverware and the chatter of patrons swirled around as you and the band stepped into a modest roadside cafe, the scent of fresh coffee and griddle pancakes saturating the air.

You grabbed a menu, your eyes scanning over the array of sandwiches and salads. "What's good here?" You asked, more to yourself than anyone else.

"Try the turkey club," Frankie suggested, his voice unexpectedly close. "It's pretty solid."

"Thanks," you said, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the sudden attention. Your eyes met for an instant—his brown gaze steady, a quiet intensity within their depths that seemed to see right through you. You quickly looked down at the laminated menu, pretending to be engrossed in the sandwich section.

"Ever tried writing about food?" he asked, his tone light, teasing almost.

“Can't say I have," you replied, smiling despite the awkward fluttering in your chest. "My editor would probably have a heart attack if I pitched him a piece on the culinary prowess of roadside diners."

"Shame," Frankie said, chuckling softly. "You might be onto something."

"Maybe in another life," you mused, still avoiding his gaze. You could sense his amusement, and it was oddly comforting. You risked a glance at him, finding his smile genuine, devoid of the usual rock star pretense.

"Turkey club it is then," you declared, setting the menu aside just as Tom approached the two of you before getting sat down by a host. He gestured to you.

"Hey, can I grab you for a sec?" Tom's voice carried the weight of unspoken urgency.

"Sorry to pull you away," Tom began, leading you towards a corner of the café, away from the buzz of lunchtime chatter. His brow was furrowed, the lines etched deeply. "About that conversation you overheard the other night—it wasn't what it seemed."

"Okay," you said as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your senses heightened to the undercurrent of seriousness in his demeanor, "but managing another band? That's pretty significant, Tom."

"Look," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck—a gesture you'd come to recognize as Tom grappling with the complexities of his role. "I am fully committed to Triple Frontier–those are my brothers–but this industry... It's relentless. You've got to keep your options open, ‘doesn't mean I'm abandoning ship."

"I get it," you said, not sure if you truly did but were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Just trying to stay ahead of the curve, right?"

"Exactly." Tom's lips twitched into a semblance of a smile. "I appreciate your understanding. Now, go enjoy your lunch. And don't forget to try that turkey club."

"Will do," you replied, your mind already spinning.

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

You had barely finished your first bite of the turkey club when the guys started telling you stories about Vietnam.

"I swear, these fucking rats would've been the death of me," Benny said, shaking his head. "We're talking like the size of a cat or a small dog. Some of 'em were big enough to carry a baby in their mouth."

"That's heavy," you said, fascinated. "So what would you do when you saw them?"

"I'd either try to kick it or shoot at it, sometimes both."

"You didn't do shit," Frankie interjected. "Remember the time that big rat came scurrying across the tent and you jumped up on a crate, screaming like a little girl?"

Benny glared at Frankie, his eyes narrowed. "Fuck you, Morales. I was not scared, just wasn’t in the mood to deal with some mangy rat."

"That was the only thing that scared you the entire time we were over there, hermano." Santiago added.

"You're both full of shit," Benny said, rolling his eyes.

"Are they?" Will asked, "Because I remember when mom asked us to help clean up the garage and a mouse was hiding behind one of the boxes. You screamed like a banshee and ran out of the house, ‘wouldn't go back in until dad caught it."

"Fuck you, too," Benny shot back.

"Language," Santiago said, smirking.

"Oh, shut up," Benny grumbled.

"Don't get mad at me," Santiago replied, his expression feigning innocence. "I wasn't the one who got scared by a rat."

It was clear that more than anything; the guys shared a brotherhood between them. An unbreakable bond.

"You're all terrible," you joked, unable to contain a smile.

"Yeah, yeah," Benny waved his hand dismissively. "But we're also the guys who will protect you from the rats, so you're welcome."

"How valiant," you replied, earning a few snickers. "Between all the rats and Benny's screaming, how did you guys have time to decide you wanted to make music?"

"Oh, that was a no-brainer," Tom piped up, leaning back in his chair. "These guys would play and sing every chance they got. ‘Didn't matter if it was the middle of the night or the ass-crack of dawn, they were always making music."

"We could hear them in the next barracks," Frankie added, his voice softer than the others, his gaze fixed on the table. "Santi and Will would have their guitars out, and they'd just start playing."

"And Benny would be singing along," Santiago added, "Or dancing. Or doing some weird combination of the two."

Benny shrugged, his grin lopsided. "Gotta keep things interesting."

You nodded, taking notes as the conversation flowed, their stories illuminating the early days of Triple Frontier. You could picture them on a rickety wooden stage, surrounded by sweaty bodies and cigarette smoke, their music carrying them into the night.

As the meal wrapped up, you felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that you'd have to eventually write about their military experience, something they clearly were not proud of.

"Guys, I'm going to have to ask a difficult question," you began, swallowing thickly. "But it's necessary for the article."

"I think we know what you're gonna ask," Santiago said, his tone guarded. "And we don't have any regrets about joining the military. It was a hard time for everyone, but we did our best. We served our country."

"I know, and I respect that," you replied, "But you're also a rock band now, and people are interested in what drove you to that point, how you got out."

The silence hung heavy, no one willing to break the tension. Finally, Benny spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically somber.

"It's like I said earlier, we were all looking for an escape. We needed something to believe in, something to help us make sense of everything. Music was that thing for us."

"It became our purpose, our mission," Will continued, his words deliberate. "We knew we had something special, and we weren't going to let anything stand in the way of that. When Nixon sent us home in '70, we decided to pursue our dream, no matter what."

"So, to answer your question," Santiago concluded, "We joined the military because we were desperate, and we got out because we were hungry. Nothing more, nothing less."

"I understand," you nodded, grateful for their honesty. "And thank you for trusting me with your story."

"You're welcome," Frankie said, his voice quiet but his eyes warm.

"Now, let's go rock this show," Benny declared, his energy returning as he jumped out of his seat. "We've got a lot to celebrate."

You nodded, tucking your notebook away. As the group filed out of the café, you couldn't help but linger a moment longer, a strange feeling tugging at your heart.

You glanced back, catching Frankie's gaze, his eyes searching yours. A silent understanding passed between you, a mutual respect and appreciation for the fragility of the moment. You smiled softly, nodding in his direction before heading off to join the others.

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

The road to the venue in San Francisco was a blur of green and gray, the hum of the tour bus's engine playing a monotonous backdrop to your thoughts. You were lost in the loop of the group's words at the cafe earlier when Tom's voice cut through, sharp and sudden.

"Alright, you ready for the real rockstar treatment?" Tom asked, eyeing you from across the narrow aisle. His brow was furrowed, a crease of concern marking his usual stoic expression.

"Sure," you laughed, trying to infuse some bravado into my voice. "How bad can it be?"

"Bad? No, not bad. Just... intense." He leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing some sacred secret of the trade. "When we open these doors, there's a sea of fans out there. They'll swarm the bus before we even hit the pavement."

"Fans?" You echoed dumbly, clutching your notepad like a shield.

"Like bees to honey," he added, his eyes scanning your face for understanding. "Just stick close to us, okay?"

"Got it." The words tumbled out easier than you felt. The pen in your hand suddenly seemed like a flimsy shield against the onslaught of adoration awaiting the band.

The bus slowed to a halt, and through the tinted windows, you could see a swarm of people pressed against the metal fencing, their faces flushed with excitement. A sea of faces along with a racket of shrieks and chants, banners and signs hoisted high—all for the five guys you'd shared sandwiches with not even two hours ago.

"Here we go." Benny clapped his hands together, grinning ear to ear. "Showtime, boys—and lady."

The door hissed open, and the sound hit you like a physical wave. You instinctively clutched at your bag, holding it close.

Tom went first, striding out to make sure the path was clear. Santiago followed, loose and relaxed. The rest of the band fanned out behind him, their signature swagger dialed up to an eleven. You trailed a few steps behind, feeling like an awkward sixth wheel.

Hands reached out, grasping at any piece of the band they could touch. A security team formed a protective barrier, pushing back the throng as the group made their way towards the stage entrance.

The crowd's chants grew louder, a steady rhythm of "Triple Front-ier! Triple Front-ier!"

It was a strange mix of emotions: awe and intimidation, wonder and apprehension. You felt small, insignificant. But at the same time, a tiny spark of pride flickered within you. It was an honor to be part of that experience.

Someone jostled you from the side, a fan slipping past security to try and touch one of the guys. Off balance, you stumbled, your heart leaping to your throat, instincts screaming that you'd be swallowed whole by this crowd and your rock and roll dreams would be over.

"Hey—watch it!" A familiar voice rose above the chaos, strong and steady.

Frankie.

Before you could fall, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against the solidity of his chest. He was warm and real amidst the surreal whirlwind of bodies and noise.

"Gotcha," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, giving you a feeling in your core that made you feel even more unstable.

His grip on you tightened, his palm splayed across your stomach. Your own fingers curled around his wrist, the pulse there fluttering under the pad of your thumb.

You reached the safety of the entrance into the Fillmore West, and he let go, the loss of contact almost physically painful.

"You alright?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.

"Y-yeah," you stammered, heat rising to your cheeks. "Thank you. I mean, for catching me. You know."

"No problem," he replied, the corner of his lips quirked up. "Just stay close next time, okay?"

You nodded, trailing behind him as he joined the rest of the group, the adrenaline of the moment still coursing through your veins.

Before you could fully process what had just happened, Tom boomed. "Alright, boys—we're behind schedule. You're on in five - let's get this show on the road!"

The group scattered, each of them heading in a different direction. Frankie cast a glance over his shoulder, his gaze lingering for a moment on you before he turned away, following Tom near the stage.

You took a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. This was your job, after all. You needed to keep your wits about you.

The boys all made their way close to the stage, huddled in a circle as Tom gave them a pep talk. You could tell that the group was amped up, and they were ready to go. They had an energy about them that was contagious, and you could feel the excitement building as the crowd started cheering louder and louder.

Suddenly you heard Santiago's voice over the group, "Stop, hey, what's that sound?"

"Everybody look what's going down!" The boys echoed.

The group then broke apart, and you could see them all getting ready to perform. Benny ran to the stage first to a sea of applause. Tom hovered back, talking with a lighting crew member and giving a thumbs-up to the sound technician.

Santiago grabbed his guitar, checking the tuning as Will and Frankie tuned their bass and guitar. Benny was already behind the drum set, tapping the sticks on the drums.

The crowd was now going wild, and the band seemed ready. Frankie headed out first, then Will, then Santiago.

"What a day, what a crowd," Santiago said, his voice low and gruff into the microphone. "We've come a long way, baby. Thank you."

You watched as the band played the intro to their hit song, "Santa Maria." The crowd went nuts, and you could feel the electricity in the air.

As the song played, the band started getting more and more into it, their energy feeding off the crowd. Santiago and Benny were bouncing around the stage, while Will and Frankie stayed more rooted in place.

You watched as Frankie moved to the center of the stage, his fingers expertly dancing across the fretboard of his bass. He was the epitome of cool and collected, despite the sweat dripping down his forehead, the same broad hands that splayed across your waist earlier playing the guitar with ease.

Your pen couldn't go across the paper fast enough, trying to capture the essence of the concert—the sweat that glistened on Santiago's brow as he sang every lyric, the bass reverberating through Frankie's body as if he were the instrument himself, Will's fingers deftly plucking the strings of his guitar, his hair fluttering wildly around him, Benny's eyes locked on the audience as he slammed the drums, his arms flying furiously.

After an hour and a half, the group played their final encore, bringing the crowd to their feet. Santiago and Will stood back to back, singing the last notes of the song, the rest of the band playing the final chords.

The crowd cheered, the deafening noise drowning out everything else. You watched as the guys made their way off the stage, exhaustion etched on their faces.

You caught Frankie's gaze as he passed by, his eyes locking with yours for a brief moment. He smiled, a lazy, lopsided smile that sent a jolt through your body.

As the boys made their way backstage, they were greeted by a mob of adoring fans. Benny and Santiago were surrounded by a group of girls, their shrill voices echoing through the hallways.

You lingered in the shadows, watching the scene unfold. It was a strange feeling, witnessing the band's transformation from the quiet guys you'd shared sandwiches with just hours ago to these larger-than-life rock stars.

The guys seemed to be used to it, their easygoing nature never faltering. They signed autographs and posed for pictures, their smiles genuine.

But as the crowd dispersed, you saw a rare glimpse of the band's true selves.

"Triple Frontier's not just a band," You penned in a rare moment of stillness. "They're a phenomenon, a revolution. And I'm right here, in the eye of the hurricane."

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

"Drinks on me, folks," Tom declared, his voice hoarse yet triumphant as he claimed a spot at the bar for the band, crew, and you. The band had decided they wanted to celebrate a good show with some drinks.

"Make that a bourbon, neat," You chimed in, slipping onto a stool beside Tom. Your adrenaline still coursed, mingling with anticipation and fatigue.

"Hard day at the office?" Tom joked, his gaze scanning the group to ensure everyone was accounted for and content.

"Something like that," You said, your eyes scanning the room for Frankie. He was somewhere amid the tangle of bodies and laughter, but maddeningly out of reach. You wanted to thank him for earlier.

The bartender slid a glass in front of you, the amber liquid beckoning.

"Bottoms up," Tom said, raising his own drink in a toast. "Here's to the end of a helluva first show on tour with us."

The whiskey was smooth, burning a warm trail down your throat. The buzz was instant, settling into your bones and loosening the knots that had been tying you up since you'd first stepped foot on the bus.

The conversation flowed freely, and you finally got to get acquainted with the roadies, a diverse group of people with varying stories of their own. It was nice, you thought, to be part of a community.

It had been a long time since you'd felt so at ease with a group of people, so included and welcomed. Your job, despite being the closest thing to a rockstar's life you'd ever experienced, had left you somewhat isolated.

And then there was Frankie, his eyes meeting yours across the room as if drawn by some magnetic force. But before your liquid courage could act upon it, Benny came up to you, his voice slurred but his eyes still clear with a mischievous glint.

"The newest girl on the bus, huh?" He said, leaning in close to your ear. His breath was warm and heavy, the smell of beer and cigarettes mixing with the warmth of his skin.

You narrowed your eyes at him, sensing the questionable compliment coming.

"Yeah, Ben," you replied, trying to keep things friendly but also cautious of his intentions.

"Well, you know what they say," he continued, a smirk playing on his lips, "behind every successful man, there's a woman holding down the fort."

You rolled your eyes, trying to laugh it off as you glanced around the bar, looking not only for Frankie amid the crowd this time but for someone to get you out of this.

"Benny, I don't need a man to be successful," you said, feeling a hint of irritation in your tone. "I can be successful on my own, thank you very much."

Benny let out a low chuckle, not treating your words as a serious rebuttal.

"Well, sure, honey, you can be successful without a man," he said, still smirking. "But let's be honest, it's not going to be as easy as if you had one to support you. I mean, think about it. Who's going to iron your clothes, cook your meals, and keep the house tidy when you're out there touring?"

"Benny..." Will had heard part of the conversation, and his face scrunched up in disapproval. "Lay off, man."

But Benny was relentless, "I'm just saying, sweetheart, it's a stark reality. A strong woman like you, you're gonna face a whole lot of challenges out there in the world, and it would sure be a lot easier with a good man on your side. Just remember, a good woman is hard to find these days. Maybe you'll be lucky enough to find one of the roadies to show you the ropes."

You felt the heat of embarrassment rising in your cheeks as you excused yourself from the conversation telling Tom briskly, "I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel, not feeling too well."

You stepped out of the bar, feeling the cool night air on your skin. You knew Benny was a good guy, you had seen it in the countless acts of kindness he showed the crew, but his words stung more than you had anticipated.

You'll never forget the first time someone made you feel invisible because of your gender. It was a sobering reminder that, despite your success, the industry was still a man's world. You were a woman, and women had no place in the rock 'n roll world, especially not as a journalist. You were a novelty, a rarity, an outlier. A pair of tits.

It was a painful realization, and one you had to learn to accept if you were going to make a name for yourself. You were more than just some bozo’s personal maid. You were a sharp mind, a skilled writer, and a tenacious spirit. And you were going to prove every jackass who thought that way including Benny wrong.

"Fuck 'em," you murmured, the alcohol making you bolder as you went into the payphone booth to call a taxi.

You didn't need anyone's approval or permission to do your job, and you damn well knew it.

You dialed the number for the taxi service and they promised a cab within the next 15 minutes. You sighed and leaned against the cool glass of the phone booth, trying to clear your mind. "Hey" a deep voice pulled you out of your thoughts. There was Frankie, leaning against the booth door, his expression unreadable.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yeah," you replied, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"No, I get it," Frankie cut you off, "I saw what happened back there and Will told us that Benny was being an asshole. I'm really sorry about that. He's usually a decent guy, but when he drinks..."

"It's alright. He's not the first asshole I've had to deal with and he won't be the last." You tried to sound more nonchalant than you felt.

Frankie carefully looked at you, you cursed yourself for feeling so exposed in his gaze. “Do you have a ride back to the hotel?”

You nodded, "Yeah, the taxi will be here soon. I should probably go wait for it, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Frankie said, "If you want some company, I can go back with you. I'm not really in the mood to be around a bunch of drunk assholes, myself."

The offer caught you off guard, but the idea of having Frankie as company seemed comforting. "That would be...nice, actually."

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

You nursed a whiskey, the ice clinking against the glass as you swirled it absentmindedly. The bar at the hotel was dimly lit, casting long shadows over the bottles that lined the shelves and reflected in the mirror behind them. Frankie slid onto the stool beside you, coming back from the bathroom.

"Another round?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

"Let’s do it." You smiled, the corners of your eyes crinkling. Frankie matched your smile and ordered for the both of you. You liked that he knew what you wanted without needing to ask. He sighed, the tension easing from his broad shoulders as he leaned back, resting his elbows on the bar.

"So," he continued, turning towards you, "how's the article coming along?"

"Slowly but surely," you replied, your eyes tracing the edge of your glass. "I feel like I'm still getting used to all of this."

"Honestly?" He looks thoughtful as he takes his hat off and cards through his dark curls. "It's kind of hard for us, too."

You raise your eyebrows at him, curious.

"Yeah," he continues, "I mean, it's been a lot to adjust to. And it's not just the crazy schedule and the traveling, the fans. Trying to fit my daughter into all of this. It's the media and the pressure and all the expectations. It's a lot to take in."

"I bet," you agree, nodding slowly. "But I can see how it would be pretty exciting, too.”

Frankie hums in agreement, "It is. It's just a lot. It's like, this is something we never thought was actually possible and now that it's happening, I don't know, I just never really expected it to be like this."

"Like what?"

He shrugs, "I don't know. So big. So fast. I guess I just always thought we'd have more time to enjoy it, you know? Before it all gets so crazy."

You give him a small smile, "I get that. But nights like tonight, where the whole bar wants to buy you a drink, should be easy to enjoy."

"Yeah," he agrees, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "you're right. Unless your drunk bandmate decides to bother the sweet Rolling Stone reporter to where she wants to leave the party."

You feel the warmth of a blush creeping up your neck, "It wasn't really that bad, I just..."

"You don't have to explain," he interrupts, his voice gentle. "Just because this is your job doesn't mean people can talk to you like that."

You take a sip of your newly placed drink, feeling the burn of the whiskey as it spreads warmth through your body.

"I know," you agree, "but I'm used to it. The industry is a man's world and women, especially journalists, are seen as outsiders. It's just part of the job, I guess."

Frankie lets out a low whistle, "It sounds like a lot of bullshit, honestly. But hey, if you're tough enough to handle all of that, you're tough enough to handle whatever comes your way."

You smile at him, appreciating his support. "Thanks, Frankie. I really appreciate it."

He nods, "Of course. Like I said, if you ever need anything, just know I've got your back."

You take another sip of your drink, feeling the tension of the night begin to fade. The liquor was doing a great job of releasing any inhibitions or shyness you had with Frankie. The two of you talked and laughed about everything.

There was something comforting about his steady presence, his warm laughter resonating with your own. As the night wore on, the bar began to empty out, the loud chatter and clinking glasses giving way to the soft hum of a late-night radio. "My Love" by Paul McCartney & Wings filled the air.

"God, I love this song." You said, leaning against him. “This might be controversial but McCartney is way better than Lennon."

"Lennon has passion, though. He's a rebel," Frankie countered, a smile on his lips.

"I have to say, though, radio never does a song justice," you mused. "You lose the depth—the soul of the vinyl."

"Couldn't agree more." Frankie looked down at you, his eyes softening.

Those damn brown eyes.

"Then maybe..." Frankie began, hesitation making his voice just a bit uneven, but before he could finish his thought, the bartender made an announcement- "Last call!”

You both glanced at your watches, realizing how late it was. Where had the time gone?

“Guess we lost track of time,” you said, a little surprised.

Frankie rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Yeah," he agreed. “I guess we did.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts and feelings that neither of you were quite ready to articulate.

"Hey," You perked up. "I brought my Red Rose Speedway vinyl."

He stood up and offered you his hand, "How about we get out of here and give it a proper listen?"

You hesitated for a second before taking it. His hand was warm, fingers firm against your own, and you felt the uninvited familiarity of those damn butterflies.

"I think I'd love that," you answered with a small smile that reflected in his eyes.

You hesitated for a second before taking it. His hand was warm, fingers firm against your own, and you felt the uninvited familiarity of those damn butterflies.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

You couldn’t believe he was on your hotel room couch.��

His large body sprawled out on the floral pattern, elbow resting on the armrest and head propped up by his hand as he watched you rummage through your luggage. The dull light from the lone lamp in the corner of the room cast long shadows across his features, accentuating his strong jawline and nose.

"Got it," you exclaimed, triumphantly holding up the vinyl.

He looked over at you with eager eyes, a smile playing on his lips.

You placed the small record player on the table next to the couch, carefully placing the record on the turntable and lowering the needle. The crackle of anticipation filled the room as the music began to play. You sat down on the couch next to Frankie, his presence a warm and reassuring closeness in the low-lit room. The opening notes of "Big Barn Bed" flooded into the room.

"I can try to skip it to 'My Love' if you want me to." You suggested.

"No, I like it. I like it a lot," he replied, his eyes fixed on you.

The two of you sat in silence as the song played, the air between you thick with tension. As the last notes of the song faded away, you turned to look at Frankie, your eyes meeting his.

"What do you think?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze remained steady on your face, the corners of his mouth twitching into a soft smile. "I think," he began, his voice matching yours in its whisper-soft delivery, "I think I needed this...a little bit of music, a little bit of normality. And you."

"I needed this too," you admitted softly.

His hand found yours on the couch, fingers entwining with a comforting familiarity. The intimacy of the moment sent a swell of warmth through your body.

Frankie's gaze never left yours as he leaned in closer, his eyes searching yours for permission. You found yourself holding your breath, your heart pounding against your chest as he closed the distance between you.

His lips met yours in a soft, slow kiss that made your head spin.

"Is this okay?" he murmured against your lips, pulling back slightly to study your expression.

"Yes," you wrapped your hands around his neck. "It's more than okay."

Your lips met again, deepening the kiss and asking for more. He tasted like smokey liquor and cigarettes

His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, your bodies molding together on that floral pattern couch.

You moved to straddle him on the couch, the flowing skirt from your mini-dress bunching up around your waist as you moved.

Frankie's hands came to rest on your hips, thumbs tracing small circles through the thin fabric of your dress. Looking into your eyes for permission, he started to slowly lift the hem, his touch on your bare skin.

Your hands drifted to his hair, tangling your fingers in the dark curls and removing his hat. There was an urgency in his movements now, a raw need that echoed your own.

His lips, hot and insistent, traced a path down your neck and you began to move against him, riding out the want building within you.

Without hesitation, he lifted you from the couch and carried you to the spacious bed on the other side of the room. He laid you down gently and you lifted your arms, allowing him to carefully pull the dress over your head and toss it aside. His eyes raked over your bare body, your breasts exposed to his intense gaze.

"Took my damn breath away," he murmured. He removed his clothes except for his underwear, exposing his tanned chest and soft belly.

Then, with a gentle push, he allowed himself to be pulled down onto the bed next to you, both of you inhaling sharply as skin met skin. His hand traced a gentle path from your shoulder down to your waist, ending his trail between your legs.

His thumb found your swollen clit, gently circling it. Your hips bucked in response, a soft moan escaping your lips. His fingers slipped lower, sliding into you with ease. His eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time, drinking in every reaction, every shudder of pleasure that coursed through you.

Your hand found his hard length, trapped in the fabric of his underwear. Without a pause, you slipped your hand within the elastic band and drew him out.

A low, guttural moan came out of him as you stroked his thick cock, pre-cum already beading at the tip.

"You're gonna kill me," he growled, his hips thrusting involuntarily into your touch.

He shallowly thrust his thick fingers inside you, matching the rhythm of your hand on him. Your soft moans filled the room, mingling with the faint strains of the next song on the vinyl.

When you came, his mouth found yours again, swallowing your gasps and moans as he helped you come down. His thumb was still gently circling your clit.

He removed his fingers from you and gripped your wrist, gently but firmly. His eyes searched yours, a silent question written on his features. You nodded, understanding his need.

Your bodies shifted on the soft bed sheets, Frankie positioning himself between your legs. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against yours.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered.

"I want this." Your words were breathless, barely audible.

He slid into you slowly, filling you completely. Your fingers dug into the muscles of his back as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning against your skin.

"Oh fuck," he grunted.

The feeling of him inside you was unreal, his thick length stretching and filling you in ways that nobody had ever done before. He slowly inched himself into you until he bottomed out, and for a moment the two of you just stayed there, breathing each other in; the whiskey, the weed, the road. You both smelled the same but also so different, and you both wanted to know more.

"Fuck, baby." He breathed.

And then he began to move. His hips rocked back and forth in a steady rhythm, his cock gliding in and out of you. You matched his rhythm, wrapping your legs around his waist and urging him deeper.

You both moved together, lost in the sensation of each other's bodies. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the air, mixed with the faint music still drifting in from the record player.

He lifted his head, his gaze fixed on yours as he continued his slow thrusts. His hands roamed your body, squeezing and pinching your breasts and ass, exploring every inch of you.

You gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down into a passionate kiss. His tongue traced your lips before entering your mouth, deepening the kiss.

His pace began to quicken, the friction between you building. His cock filled you completely, hitting all the right spots, and the pleasure was almost overwhelming.

"Fuck, I'm so close." He grunted, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust deeper.

He reached between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit again and applying the perfect amount of pressure.

It was enough to send you over the edge. Your orgasm washed over you in waves, his name tumbling from your lips as you clung to him.

He came a few seconds later, his cock throbbing inside you and spilling his cum into you.

"Fuck." His forehead pressed against yours, his breathing ragged.

He rolled off you and lay down on the bed beside you, the both of you coming down from your high. He pulled you close, your head resting on his chest.

The record was still spinning, the soft crackle of the vinyl the only sound in the room.

"Holy shit." You murmured, trailing your fingers along his chest.

He nodded, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. Holy shit."

You both laughed, the tension in the air broken by mutual satisfaction, what felt like a great exhale to your tension. You rested your chin on his chest, gazing up at him.

"Thank you," you whispered, suddenly feeling shy.

"For what?" He raised an eyebrow.

"For... well, for everything. For tonight, and for just being you." You smiled at him.

He grinned, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "Thank you, too. This was the best night I've had in a long time."

You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing briefly. "Me, too."

The two of you lay in silence for a while, content to just be close. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, his fingers idly playing with your hair.

"Frankie..." You whispered.

"Hmm?" He responded, his voice soft.

"If you're tired, you can stay..." You trailed off, suddenly unsure of yourself. Maybe this was all too forward?

He pulled you closer, planting a kiss on the top of your head. "I'd like that," he murmured, his eyes already beginning to droop closed.

You smiled, snuggling closer to him and feeling his heartbeat against your skin. The night had ended up being more than either of you expected, and it seemed the morning would be no different.

The two of you fell asleep, tangled together, as the vinyl record finally stopped spinning and the night came to a quiet end.

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sweet-lover-girl · 1 year

Note

trust issues shaped reader >>>>

trust issues reader just like me crying and losing sleep thinking she's not enough to be loved and her gf will always need to be with someone else >>>>>>>>

There he was, that fucking ass.

Owen Moore. That fucking prick—telling your girlfriend he got Mel pregnant.

You huff and say,”Owen, the definition of man who only think with his dick.” Taking another bite of food.

Manny was taking a drink as you say this and he spits it out laughing, trying desperately not to chock as he covers his mouth.

Abby looks at you unamused, tilting her head to the side with a frown.

“What?” You say looking her way. “It’s true.”

“Really? Don’t do that,” she sighed, picking up her tray.

“Why?” You pushed.

“Because—I expect more from you.” She got up and walked away.

You sigh as Manny pays your back,”Hey it’s okay, she’s just moody because its early.”

You know it’s not that, she’s been moody with you for at least a week now, not telling you way. But you think you know why and it breaks you heart, Owen. The man who once held you lovers heart—still might hold it. You tear up at the thought and turn away from Manny, picking up your tray and throwing away your trash.”I’ll see you later Manny.” You wave to him over your shoulder and leave the cafeteria.

You sigh as you stuff you hands in your jacket pockets once you got outside, it was mid winter and freezing, there was a thick blanket of white snow everywhere. You let out another sigh of white puffy smoke and you perk up when you hear Abby’s laugh.

Looking to the side where you heard it you could see Owen leaning his arm up against the wall as he spoke to Abby, her face flushed—wither because of the cold or his flirting, you didn’t know and you didn’t wanna find out. You quickly walked the other way with tears in your eyes. You couldn’t even keep her away from her ex-boyfriend, why did you think this would work, you were nothing like him. Owen was a solider who was apart of Abby’s past, an important part of Abby’s past at that. You only knew her for four years at this point, having made friends with her when she first got to WLF.

You are worthless, your intrusive thoughts hissed in your ear, making you shake your head. You will never be good enough for her. You let out a whimper and close your eyes, a tear falling down your cheek. Your heart physically hurt right now. You didn’t understand why, why? Are you not good enough—don’t work hard enough. Maybe she just never loved you—

“—stop!”

You gasp and twist your wrist that was now in someone’s grasp, quickly turning around you see Abby’s concerned face. You relax with a breath and close your eyes. She places her hand on your cheek while still holding your wrist, and you nuzzle into her gentle hand.

“Hey, are you okay?” Abby voiced her concern.

You stand there for a second. Are you okay? No. Are you gonna tell her that? No. You smile and nod you head, making Abby just hummed to your reply. Not believing you.

She drops her hand and let’s go of your wrist, crossing her arms in front of her chest looking down at you. “Okay, what is it?” She asked.

You look at her feigning confusion, but she knew better, she knew you better.

You sigh and drop the act, looking down at the ground with solemn eyes. Tears reappearing at your water lines, making you vision go blurry. “Tell me—what’s wrong with you.” She commanded in a sharp tone, and you flinch and blink, making tears finally fall from your eyes. Abby sighs and drops her arms taking a step closer to you, and you back up. She pause her advance with wide eyes, looking at you like you slapped her.

You felt ashamed looking to the ground—not being able to look at her hurt eyes. “Pumpkin?” She whisper waterly.

You let out a sob and say, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—Abby breaks her stunned form and quickly gathers you up in her arms.”Shh, it’s okay—it’s okay Baby.” She rocks you both side to side, sharing her warmth with you and you just tear up even more, letting out a cry as you hug her to your chest.

She lets you cry into her shoulder for a while, just holding you and swaying back and forth. Whispering sweet words,”It’s okay,” and “I love you.” And you begin to settle down.

“Pumpkin, what’s wrong? Please—talk to me.” She whispers desperately in your ear and you break. Telling her how all week it seems like she was mad at you and there was tension between the both of you. You hated when you and Abby fight—as rarely as you did, you still fucking hated it. But this time you had no idea what you did, so you tell her as much.

“Please, what did I do Abby?” You beg. “What ever I did I’ll fix it I promise! Just please—“She stops you by placing her thumb over your lips, looking at you with regretful eyes. “Baby, I’m so fucking sorry—you didn’t do anything I—“She sighed as she dropped her arms, sliding her hands down yours as she looked at the ground. You wait for her to speak, holding your tongue.

“You didn’t do anything, I’ve just been a bitch because Isaac has been holding back on some information about ‘what the fuckever’ and when his stresses like this it pisses me off because I’m the one who gets the shit for it—but I-I’m not saying that’s a good reason as to why I’ve been so mean this last week! I just—“She sighs once more.

“I’m so sorry Pumpkin, I have no reason as to why I’ve been a bitch but I have been one. I’m so fucking sorry.” She whispered sadly.

Now it was your turn to sigh and you gather her up in your arms, now it was your turn to be truthful with her.

“I’ve been in a strange mood too love, it’s not just you and I’m sorry.” You hold onto her tightly as your eyes water up again. “I just feeling like—like I’m losing you..”

It went dead silent as Abby froze in her place, eyes wide as she looked over your shoulder hugging you still, a tear falls from her eye as her eyelashes flutter. What? What did you say? She pulled away from you to see you look back down to the ground, avoiding her gaze.

“What?” Abby asked quietly.

You stood there and crossed your arms over your chest in a protective stance and lift your hand up to lick at your lips, your nervous tick Abby hated.

“What?” She repeated and grabbed your hand—pulling it away from your mouth and made you look up by lifting you chin with her knuckles.

You let out a huff and turn your head from her, hiding your tears. “Don’t play with me Abby, please..”

“I’m not, what do you mean by that?” She stepped in front of your vision. “You think your losing me?”

You turn from her once more—trying desperately to hide you emotions. You were hugging yourself, your arms holding hardly any warmth close to Abby’s, you felt so cold.

“Pumpkin please, tell me..”Abby walks up behind you and wraps her arms around you, warming you instantly. You sigh for the hundredth time and finally tell her how you really feel, how hurt you feel and ashamed.

“Because! I’m not Owen! I’ll never be like him and I’ll losing you because if it! I’m no solider—I don’t work hard enough—I don’t love you enough and I—“

You rant is jolted as she steps in front of you and kisses you hard, shutting you up instantly. You melt into the kiss—full of tension and love, anger and passion. It was a lot.

She pulls away and your both breathless. She hasn’t kissed you like that in a while. She placed her forehead on yours and looked you in the eyes.

“Fuck Owen.” Is all she said and kissed you again.

You didn’t wanna pull away—but you needed answers. So with a heavy heart you pull away breathless once more and look at her about to speak, but she beat you to the punch.

“If I wanted Owen—I would date Owen, but I don’t want him—fuck him, okay? Fuck him. I want you Pumpkin, only you. The last four years of my life have been so much brighter with you in them. Fuck baby, your smile alone fixed my heart. I just need you—please, only you.” She said.

You let out a sob as you leaned in to kiss her once more with all your heart and soul. She stood there holding you in the freezing cold for a while, just kissing and loving you, no words were needed.

She finally did say though.”Let’s get you inside, okay Baby?” She took off her jacket and wrapped it around you arms despite you trying to stop her, but she told you her long sleeve was enough and lead you inside for a warm drink and cuddles.

———

What they didn’t see was someone standing there behind a tree watching the whole thing.

Owen Moore. The man who stood there studded as he realized—he truly lost Abby Anderson to someone who was far greater and much more better then him, he had finally fucking realized it.

>>>>>>>>

Fuck Owen.

#lovely people #anon ask #abby anderson #abby anderson/reader #abby tlou #wlw #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #eden replies🖤❤️💜#abby anderson fan fiction #abby x reader #abby anderson/you #abby the last of us #Abby Anderson Blurbs

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deepouterspacecandy · 4 months

Text

Dancing Shadows

It’s not that you were smitten with her.

It’s just that when she accidentally brushed her leg against yours under the table, it set your body on fire. Warmth spilled from your head to your toes with an innocent touch and it was almost adolescent. The way her very presence caused you to avert your eyes the moment it happened, an instinctual reach for the nearest plastic straw or frayed string of your hoodie.

Anything to fiddle with to distract from the jackhammer between your ribs.

“Abby!” a familiar voice rang out.

You winced and immediately regretted it. You were never good at hiding your emotions.

Maybe nobody at this godforsaken table noticed your distaste for Owen. It wasn’t reasonable—your hatred for him, and you knew as much. Your reaction to his presence was based solely on boiling, unadulterated jealousy and so what? You were only human.

“What’s up?” Abby cooed, letting herself become smothered by the man behind her.

Okay, so smothered is a tad dramatic, but come on. Get a room.

“Just thought I’d check in with my favourite girl before shipping out,” Owen said. “This might be the longest we’ve been apart since we met.”

“Good riddance,” you mumbled.

Nora snorted at your near silent outburst, giving you a gentle kick. That tender brush of ankles beneath the table set nothing on fire but your attitude. You’d have to give it to her, though. She was always looking out for your best interest.

Owen Moore was the luckiest man in the entire compound, and you envied the way his dopey demeanor always seemed to put a smile on her face. Did he know how fortunate he was?

“I’m full,” you blurted, pushing away your half-eaten burrito. “Catch you later.”

You couldn’t bear to stop and analyze the shocked expression painted on Abby’s face.

She had saved you a spot at the table, the way she did every day. Her grey jacket bunched up on the bench across from her, awaiting your arrival. Her pretty face breaking into a smirk as you fumbled with your tray and her favourite coat.

She hadn’t muttered a single complaint when you opted for laying the fabric across your lap, even after dropping a stray piece of lettuce and mayo onto the collar.

She simply grinned and continued ranting about the current book she was reading. Well, that was before Owen turned up.

Abby called out to you, but your cheeks burned, and your stomach twisted in that uncomfortable way it often seemed to do in these situations. You hurried out of the chow hall without a second glance or destination in mind.

Your feet, one in front of the other, took you away from the source of the agony, and that’s all you could stand to process.

When you collapsed onto the couch in the library, it wasn’t much of a surprise.

This was your safe place. Your sanctuary.

Within minutes, the tight ball of rope in the pit of your stomach relaxed. Dim lighting and the weathered scent of old literature, the quiet hum of passersby in the hallway. The glide of battered paper between your fingers. The comfort of knowing that a temporary slice of peace was only a chapter away.

This little nook developed into a haven to have yourself a serious nervous system override, which your body desperately needed after a hectic week on patrol, coupled with far too many sleepless nights.

Fear wove its way through the stadium as the conflict between the WLF and the Scars mounted. In a matter of weeks, the ceasefire between the two factions disappeared.

When the Seraphites crossed boundaries they ought not cross, both in land and principle, Isaac retaliated without hesitation. And when Isaac sent his soldiers into their territory intending to cause abject harm, the Scars gathered their resources and fired back in short order. A vicious cycle perpetuated by ruthless leaders at the expense of loyal, dependent lives.

To say the conflict had transformed into a bloodbath was putting it lightly. You spent many hours in your bunk over the recent weeks, staring into the abyss in sheer disbelief.

How could human beings treat each other with such careless disregard? You didn’t agree with the way they lived, but at your core, it didn’t spark a desire for violence. You understood the importance of protecting your community, and you would do so without protest. It just seemed rather counterintuitive.

Could the war between your groups meet an end before your life wound up on the front lines as the next sacrifice?

It wasn’t until you started curling up in Abby’s jacket that you realized you’d taken it hostage in your frenetic escape. Heat trickled across the bridge of your nose, pooling in your cheeks.

“It looks better on you, anyway.”

“God, you scared me,” you huffed, clutching your chest. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Abby’s calm tone filled your chest up with wild flutters as she slid in next to you on the couch.

Was this piece of furniture always so small?

Suddenly, there was only the hard edge of it at your heels and the overwhelming strength of the girl nestled beside you.

“It’s that brain of yours, always fretting about something. It’s bad for your health, you know,” Abby said. Her fresh breath, so close to your own, caused your insides to capsize. You tried not to fixate on her blonde braid spilling onto your shoulder. How she reminded you of an autumn forest, her skin softened by a bar of her beloved pine soap.

“I knew you were hoarding packs of chewing gum,” you said. “Show off.”

She smirked, giving you a playful nudge with a wad of minty green pressed between her teeth. “Want some?”

“Hard pass,” you said, desperate to control the giggles building in your throat. “Keep all those Owen cooties to yourself, please and thank you.”

She nibbled at the dry skin on her bottom lip before giving you a sidelong glance. “You don’t like him much, do you?”

A pang of guilt struck at your core. There was a tinge of melancholy in her voice. The last thing in the world you wanted to do was make her sad.

“He’s alright,” you said with a lazy shrug.

She grinned. “Just alright?”

“I’m indifferent to his existence.”

“That’s so much worse,” she chortled, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them back up, bright blue and glossy, it felt like she was staring into your soul.

Your heart thundered, turning your mouth bone-dry. Perhaps you should’ve accepted her gum after-all.

“What?” you rasped. If she recognized the panic in your voice, she was kind enough not to draw attention to it.

“Just you,” she whispered.

“Me?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You.”

“What about me?”

She shifted her body, and you all but froze as she moved onto her side, bracing herself to better look at you. It took all your might to muster the courage to meet her gaze. Her eyes flitted to your mouth for the briefest moment, and you swallowed hard.

“I think you’re really sweet,” she said. “Not very discreet, though.”

“Excuse you? And what exactly does that mean?” You graciously took offense, challenging her assessment. Her smile only radiated.

“It means I can read you like a book,” Abby said.

“Fat chance,” you teased. “It’s a miracle you can read at all!”

Her brow quirked, and her high spirit slipped into a tantalizing grin. “Can I take a crack at your disdain for Owen?”

Part of you wanted her to hit the nail on the head to tear your feelings for her wide open. Another part of you prayed for her to change the subject to save you from the heartache of the inevitable.

She was in a relationship. Taken. Beyond that, you were certain she was straight as an arrow, and it was nicer to exist in sheer denial of that fact for the time being.

“Well?” she pressed. “Can I?”

“Go nuts,” you said, feigning nonchalance. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

She shifted again, this time to make room for her hands to fidget. Was she nervous?

“He’s terrible at tracking,” Abby offered, as the corner of her mouth hitched. “Right?”

“I mean, yes,” you groaned. “He sucks at tracking, but that’s—that’s not why.”

She blew out a ragged breath, a sudden wash of pink highlighting her freckles. She hummed to herself and then clicked her tongue, pretending to ponder. “Gotcha. Okay. Only two more guesses. I better make them good.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” you asked, covering your face with your forearm.

“I know what it is!” she exclaimed, pausing for theatrical effect. “It’s because he interrupts everyone just before the punchline of a story, isn’t it?”

“Abby.”

“That drives me mental, too.”

“Abigail,” you grumbled. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

You hid yourself behind her crumpled jacket and the scent of this beautiful girl all around you turned your already racing thoughts into a dishevelled mess.

“Hold up,” Abby said. She reached for her jacket with such gentle intention, pulling it away from your face. “I get one more guess.”

Electricity threatened the mellow ambiance of the library, despite the adjacent hallway falling into silence. Everyone must be heading back to their duty assignments.

Everyone outside of you and Abby, of course. Surely, someone would come searching.

“A deal’s a deal,” you said.

The heat from her body prickled your skin with a million tiny beads of sweat. You wanted to swipe your sleeve across your upper lip, too conscious of drawing focus to your nerves.

Her gaze transformed into something deep and ethereal the more you squirmed. She seemed entertained by your anxious energy, and you swear you could melt into the couch with each expectant glance she sent your way.

“If I get this right, what will you give me?”

“Give you?” you scoffed. “You mean like, a prize or something? Do I look like a carnival to you, Anderson?”

“All you really need is a big red nose,” she smirked.

This is precisely why you adored her. She knew when to apply pressure and when to ease the load. It’s what made her an excellent leader.

Abby was so much more than a disciplined soldier.

“You calling me a clown?”

She wiggled closer, laying her head on your shoulder. She let out a long exhale, as if she’d been holding her breath. “Maybe.”

You struggled to piece two coherent thoughts together. This conversation had already played out in your mind a dozen times, through many daydreams. You ached for Abby. Hopelessly charmed by her wit and her magnetism. But you couldn’t fathom being a secret of hers. A sneaky affair in the shadows.

Sure, you weren’t fond of Owen, but hurting him wasn’t at the top of your priority list, either.

You wanted Abby in the daylight.

Arms wrapped around her before a patrol, as her squad loaded the Humvee and Manny called over his shoulder about how utterly corny you two were. You wanted her to pull you onto her lap in public, a bashful smile on her face.

You wanted to be hers, and you wanted it to be okay.

“You make me feel things I’ve never felt before,” Abby said.

Her confession sent you over the edge, your heart beating impossibly fast. Could she feel it?

As you scrambled to find your words, she continued.

“I think about you all the time. Probably more than I should,” she said. “It’s making me crazy.”

You heard the echo of another hard swallow. This time you weren’t sure who it belonged to.

“Is that a bad thing?” you asked.

She lifted her head from your shoulder, and let it fall to the back of the couch, her sturdy features enveloped by the amber light of a nearby lamp. She was breathtaking. Sweat caused the short hairs around her face and neck to curl, bits of frizz peeking out from her loosening braid. You’d seen nothing more gorgeous in your lifetime.

“If I do what my body is begging me to do right now, it would be a very bad thing,” Abby said. “I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

You nodded with a mixture of disappointment and relief. “I understand.”

Abby rubbed her vascular hands along her thighs, seemingly absorbed in thought. “I still have one more guess.”

“That you do.”

She sucked in a breath, controlling her exhale. A gym method she no doubt applied to most stressful situations during her daily grind.

“You hate Owen because you want me to be your girl instead,” Abby said. Her eyelids became heavier as she tried to catch hold of your unfocused gaze. “You want me.”

You nodded again, unable to look her in the eye, terrified that the two of you might lose control.

“Tell me then,” she said. “Tell me how you feel. I need to hear you say it.”

You noticed her legs spreading further apart, her natural confidence rivalling the alarm bells going off inside you. She anchored herself to the couch and the sudden thought of straddling her showered you with an intense surge of heat.

“When you kiss him, I wish it was me instead,” you said. “I wish it was me you reached for whenever you crave comfort. I want to be the one you run to when you’re happy or afraid. I want to keep you safe and make you feel alive. All of it.”

“Are you sure?” she murmured.

“Beyond,” you said. “I have wanted you for so long, Abby.”

Her knuckles skimmed the outside of your thigh. Inconspicuous and so, so gentle. “Give me some time, okay?”

“Of course.”

“God, you’re so pretty,” she said, igniting you both in a bout of shy giggles. “I finally get to say it. That’s allowed for now, right? I don’t even care. You are so fucking pretty, it’s killing me.”

Before you could fall into another dangerous pull, the doors to the library cracked open. Manny poked his head inside to remind Abby of the duties she needed to tend to. There was a slew of small missions Isaac demanded she organize, some requiring her to leave the compound for the afternoon. You were grateful to be off his radar for the day.

“Will you be here when I get back?”

“I’ll be around,” you said, linking your pinky finger with hers in unison, your hands tucked between her thigh and your own.

“Good. I’ll find you,” Abby whispered.

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #tlou part 2 #tlou abby #abby x reader #abby x you #abby x fem!reader

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chicgeekgirl89 · 3 months

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Rating: T Words: 6,934 Summary: In the hours after their wedding Carlos struggles to balance his joy with his grief. A/N: Please accept this in lieu of Seven Sentence Sunday! Thanks for the tags @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @kiwichaeng, @carlos-in-glasses, and @strandnreyes! Read on AO3

The reception has been in full swing for three hours.

Carlos smiles softly as he watches Ana swing his nephew around on the dance floor to Kanye West’s “Gold Digger;” a song that he’d definitely put on the no-play list and apparently T.K. had taken right back off again.

In the end, the hours they spent agonizing over the playlist for the DJ, the color of the napkins, and the font for the invitations don’t even matter. They’re not what he’ll remember from tonight.

When he thinks of this night for the rest of his life he’ll remember the tears in T.K.’s eyes as he said his vows, the way it felt to hold him during their first dance, and the joy on their friends’ faces as they smeared cake all over each other. He’ll feel the ache in his heart over the way his mother’s eyes had gone glassy while she pinned on his boutonniere, the way Luisa had clung just a little tighter than normal to her husband’s hand, the way he kept looking for his father in the crowd only to remember that he’ll never see him again.

The joy and the grief are twined together in his soul in a way that he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to separate. And he can only hope that one day they bloom into something that feels like peace.

The day hasn’t been perfect; he’s not sure anything is ever going to feel perfect again. But it has been good. Their family, their friends, their love, it’s all so, incredibly good.

What’s not good is that he hasn’t laid eyes on his husband in nearly thirty minutes. Having T.K. by his side is the only thing that has made today bearable, and now that he’s not here Carlos feels adrift and exhausted.

His eyes search the crowd, taking in Nancy and Mateo who are slow dancing and both more than a little tipsy, his mom talking with one of the caterers about what to do with the leftover cake, Owen chatting with his brother and their family. But T.K.’s sweet face still eludes him.

He’s about to get up and go conduct a physical search of the premises, but then a hand, its weight familiar even if the gold band on the third finger is still slightly foreign, squeezes his shoulder and T.K. drops into the seat next to him, a plate in his hands.

His jacket and tie are gone, the top few buttons of his shirt open so that Carlos can see his medallion gleaming in the soft lights that illuminate the dance floor. His hair is a wreck, sweaty and all over the place, and there’s this glow about him, like the joy of the day has lit up his body from the inside out.

He’s never looked more beautiful.

“How many pieces of cake have you had?” Carlos asks, a fond smile on his lips.

“Three? Four? No idea babe,” T.K. says spearing another forkful. “It’s our wedding day, the calories don’t count. Want a bite?”

He extends his hand, but Carlos shakes his head. “I’m good thanks.”

Instead of eating it T.K. sets the plate and fork on the table then leans forward and puts a hand on Carlos’ knee, studying his face. “You’re tired,” he says softly.

“I’m okay,” Carlos assures him. “I’m—I’m so happy T.K.”

“I know you are. But you’ve barely slept this week,” T.K. says. “It’s okay to be happy and want today to be over.”

Leave it to T.K. to put what he’s feeling into words. He doesn’t want this day to end; he wants to stay here and dance and laugh and feel the sparkling joy of forever with those he loves. But he also wants to curl up in bed with T.K., wrapped in the quiet softness of his arms, and be alone together.

Sometimes his husband knows him better than he knows himself.

He must stay quiet for too long, because T.K. squeezes his knee. “Let’s leave.”

“We can’t leave,” Carlos tells him, checking his watch. “We still have another hour of the reception.”

“Is there a rule that says we have to stay for the whole thing?”

“Well we paid for the whole thing, so we probably should.” He looks out at the crowd again. Paul and Marjan are yucking it up on the dance floor while Asha laughs, Judd and Grace cheering them on. His mom is bringing drinks to his sisters who are watching the kids play with a bunch of glow sticks the staff just provided. It’s beautiful and bright and there’s no way they can leave it behind.

“It’s our wedding,” T.K. says. “We can do whatever we want.”

Carlos hesitates. It’s so tempting. It’s what he really wants. But T.K. is here, eating cake, and clearly having the time of his life. He can’t pull his new husband away just because he’s tired. “I’m really okay,” he says again. “Go back out there and dance.”

T.K. stands, but he doesn’t head back toward their family and friends. Instead he holds out a hand. “Come on.”

Carlos takes it and T.K. pulls him to his feet and then toward the building, away from where the party is. “T.K. where are we going?” he asks.

“We’re leaving,” T.K. says. “And before you say anything,” he continues, cutting off Carlos’ protest, “this is what I want. This day has been…it has been everything I dreamed it would be and more Carlos. But our marriage isn’t about today, it’s about the rest of our lives. And taking care of you is the most important thing I’ll ever do. So we’re leaving. Okay?”

He gives Carlos’ hand a squeeze and tugs him along down the hallway toward the rooms where they’d gotten ready this morning. It takes only minutes for Carlos to pack up his things. Everything is neat and tidy, just the way he left it. T.K.’s room on the other hand is a bit of a wreck and Carlos would tease him about it if he wasn’t so ready to get out of here.

Instead he helps T.K. hunt for a missing sneaker, fetches his toiletry kit from the bathroom, and waits patiently as T.K. stuffs the clothes he came in into a duffel bag.

He’s zipping it closed when the door opens and Ana walks in. She immediately yelps and claps a hand over her eyes, then drops it just as suddenly. “Sorry, sorry! I saw you two and assumed I was walking in on reception sex, but you’re both fully clothed so, obviously not. Or you were about to have reception sex and I interrupted. In which case sorry again.”

“Ana what are you doing down here?” Carlos asks.

“The kids and I are playing hide and seek. So far I’m winning,” she says. “Why are you fully clothed? And packing a duffel bag? Are you about to make an Irish exit from your own wedding?”

Carlos looks at T.K. then back at his sister. “Yes,” he says.

Her eyes go soft with understanding. “Good. I’ll cover for you with Mom, okay?”

He opens his arms and she walks into them. She’s his big sister, but he’s been taller than her for years and he easily envelopes her in a hug. “Love you,” he mumbles into her hair.

“Love you too Carlitos,” she says, her voice a little rough, like she’s holding back tears. “And you T.K.,” she says when they pull apart, going in to hug him too. “Now go. Get out of here. Go start your life together.”

The Camaro is still where he parked it twelve hours ago and just remembering how long the day has been has Carlos sagging a little with fatigue. “I’ll drive,” T.K. offers, and Carlos hands over the keys without resistance.

They’re married now, the Camaro is half his anyway.

Funny how he thinks of everything they own as half T.K.’s except for his heart. That’s belonged to him fully since day one.

“Are you hungry?” T.K. asks as he starts the car. “We can stop and pick something up.”

“Not really,” Carlos says. “We can always order room service at the hotel when we get there.”

Owen booked them a room at some swanky place in downtown Austin where they’re staying for a couple nights before they leave for their honeymoon. They have the honeymoon suite which boasts a jacuzzi, a balcony, a king size bed, access to the hotel’s spa, and a butler. It’s incredibly generous of his father-in-law, and if it were any other time, Carlos would be looking forward to all the things they’re about to do in that hotel room. But tonight? He’s just so. damn. tired.

He must fall asleep on the drive because the next thing he knows T.K. is squeezing his bicep gently and he’s blinking gritty eyes open. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep or the emotions of the day, but he doesn’t recognize where they are until he stumbles blearily out of the car. He turns and looks at T.K. in confusion over the Camaro’s hood.

“My dad called the hotel and asked them to push the reservation to tomorrow,” T.K. says. “After he explained, they were more than willing to accommodate us. I thought tonight—“ He looks up at the brick building in front of them, “—it felt like you might just want to be home.”

This is what finally breaks him.

It’s as if the center of his chest rips open and he caves inward, wrapping his arms around his ribs to try and hold himself together. How is it possible to feel so elated and so anguished at the same time?

T.K. is there, his hands coming up to cradle Carlos’ face. “It’s okay baby,” he says. “You’re okay.”

“Thank you,” Carlos manages, his voice cracking over the words. “T.K. I—“

“Shh,” T.K. soothes. He presses a kiss to Carlos’ forehead. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Carlos leans heavily against T.K. in the elevator. They’re halfway up before he realizes they didn’t bring in their bags and says as much to T.K. “We’ll get them tomorrow,” T.K. tells him gently. “There’s nothing in there that can’t wait until morning.”

Carlos clings to him like a child, tears still streaming freely as T.K. rubs his arm and murmurs sweet things into is curls while they wait for the elevator to reach their floor.

“Why don’t you go take a shower?” T.K. suggests once they’re inside the loft. “I’ll make us some tea.”

It’s ridiculous, but the thought of being separated from T.K. for even as long as cleaning himself up feels impossible to bear. “Come with me?” Carlos asks. “Please?”

“Yeah, baby. Of course.” T.K. brings Carlos’ knuckles to his lips for a kiss and then guides him toward the bathroom.

Carlos doesn’t realize his hands are shaking until he starts trying to undo the buttons on his shirt. He only manages a few before T.K. takes over, strong, capable, and steady. When he finishes Carlos slides it off, letting it drop to the floor without caring that it’s not anywhere close to their laundry basket. His undershirt, pants, boxer briefs, and socks join it as T.K. turns on the spray of the shower.

Carlos steps in, the water hitting him in the face, not fully warm yet. He closes his eyes and lets it pour down, holding his breath until his lungs feel like they might burst. He only releases it when he feels T.K. step in behind him, his husband’s hand finding the small of his back. Carlos leans into him as T.K. presses a soft kiss into the skin of his shoulder before reaching around Carlos for the shampoo.

“I can do it,” Carlos tells him.

“It’s okay,” T.K. says softly. “I got it.”

T.K.’s hands work through his curls first, soft and gentle, and then down the rest of his body. The water washes away the sweat and the tears, but not the ache that now lives permanently between Carlos’ ribs. It hurts more with every breath and he struggles to try and push past it. He doesn’t want to feel this. Not tonight.

“Go dry off,” T.K. says when all the suds have been rinsed away. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Carlos towels off, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before sinking down on the edge of their bed. He should do something. It’s their wedding night. He should pour sparkling cider or sprinkle rose petals or find the leftover chocolate covered strawberries his sisters brought to their family dinner that are somewhere in the back of the fridge. But he can’t make himself move. All he can do is sit and try to remind himself how to breathe. In, out. In, out. In…

T.K. steps out of the bathroom in a clean pair of boxer briefs, the scent of their shower swirling around him. He’s gathered up their soiled clothes from the bathroom floor and Carlos watches as he sorts them out according to their laundry system. It’s this small act of love that causes tears to well and begin falling silently all over again. He’s married someone so good, so tender hearted. A man who takes the time to care for the pieces that Carlos can’t right now.

“I love you,” Carlos says, the words somewhere between a croak and whisper. He wishes for all the world that there were better words. Love is not strong enough for the feeling that lives inside him because T.K. Strand is his.

T.K. closes up the hamper and comes to him, his hands cupping Carlos’ face and wiping the tears away. “I love you too.” He looks into Carlos’ eyes, searching for something, though Carlos doesn’t know what. “Do you want tea?”

Carlos shakes his head and tilts his chin up. T.K. understands his wordless request and meets him, their lips coming together in a brief kiss. “Let’s go to bed,” T.K. says softly, brushing his thumb over Carlos’ cheek one more time before leaving him to slide beneath the covers on his own side of the bed.

Carlos joins him in the middle of the mattress, hands reaching to pull T.K.’s body into his. He’s desperate to close his eyes and succumb to the oblivion of sleep, but his husband deserves something more. Something better.

He kisses T.K. once, then again, trying to say without words what he’s feeling, like maybe if T.K. can feel it too he’ll be able to help Carlos make some sense of the tangled emotions knotting themselves around his heart.

T.K. kisses him back, his hand coming up to rest on Carlos’ side, unusually still, just his thumb moving back and forth in a soothing motion. Carlos takes a breath and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss, the warmth of T.K.’s mouth a familiar comfort against his own.

He finds the waistband of T.K.’s briefs and begins to slide them down his hip, but T.K. covers Carlos’ hand with his own breaking their kiss. “Baby no, not tonight,” he says quietly.

Carlos feels like he’s grasping at straws. There’s a script for how a wedding day is supposed to go, and T.K. has been nothing but gracious as they’ve improvised the whole thing instead. But there are expectations about how the night is supposed to end and Carlos can’t stand the thought of T.K. being disappointed if it doesn’t. “But it’s our wedding night. It should be special. You deserve to feel special.”

His voice breaks as he says it, the words coming out almost like a whimper.

“Oh Carlos. You are in the midst of unspeakable grief and you chose me anyway. That is,” T.K. swallows hard, his eyes growing bright with tears, “that is more than I could ever have asked for. I don’t need your body to make me feel special tonight.”

Carlos inhales a shaky, uncertain breath. “Are you sure?”

“You’re exhausted and grieving. This isn’t the moment. It will be. But not tonight. Tonight we both need to rest.” He gives Carlos a watery smile. “I’m not exactly in the right headspace either.”

Carlos’ heart squeezes in his chest. He’s spent the last few hours so overwhelmed with his own pain that he hasn’t thought of T.K.’s. “Your mom?” he asks.

T.K. nods, his mouth twisting a little, like he’s trying not to cry. “I miss her.”

“I miss her too,” Carlos tells him. “I wish she could see you. She’d be so proud.”

“I thinks she can,” T.K. says. “I hope she knows that I chose right. That you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I hope she knows how incredibly happy you make me.”

Carlos absorbs his words and feels them touch on a something he’s been feeling for the last week but hasn’t quite had the words for. “I’m sorry,” he says.

T.K. furrows his brow and brushes a hand through Carlos’ damp curls. “For what?”

“When your mom died, I thought…I thought I understood. I thought I knew how deep your pain was and that I could be a part of fixing it for you. I didn’t know,” he swallows down a sob that gets stuck in his chest where it aches and aches, “I didn’t know that it’s unfixable. I didn’t know how deeply losing someone breaks you. I wasn’t enough for you then. I didn’t do the right things or say the right things and I—“

“Carlos, Carlos stop,” T.K. soothes. “You were enough. You were everything I needed, even though you couldn’t understand.” He bites his lip, his soft gaze full of compassion and sorrow. “And I’m sorry that you do now.”

“It’s too much,” he says, his voice cracking. “I don’t know—god everything hurts. I don’t know how I can hurt so badly and feel so much love for you at the same time.”

“It’s okay,” T.K. tells him. “Don’t try to figure it out. It will ease.”

“It doesn’t feel like it will,” Carlos tells him, giving voice to the fear that’s eating inside him. He doesn’t want to be like this forever and he’s terrified that he’s just forced T.K. into marriage with a grief stricken monster.

“It will,” T.K. says. “You can trust me, it will.” He kisses Carlos’ knuckles. “Turn over. Let me rub your back.”

He’s too tired and sad to protest, so he does as his husband asks. T.K. moves his fingers slowly up and down Carlos’ spine. Carlos turns his head so he can see him, focusing on the feel of T.K.’s fingers against his skin and his eyes immediately begin to slide shut. “I love you,” T.K. tells him again and again and again, the only weapon he has to wield against Carlos’ exhausted grief. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Carlos says, his words slurring with sleep. “I love you.”

When Carlos wakes in the morning he feels rested for the first time in days. His head aches, his eyes feel gritty, and his face is stinging and raw from the salt of last night’s tears, but he doesn’t have that spinning, dizziness that comes with lack of sleep or the immediate feeling his gut that something is wrong. He remembers within seconds, he always does, that his father is gone. But it’s immediately followed by a second, much more welcome thought; he has a husband.

He shifts a little and reaches out blindly, his hand landing on T.K.’s thigh. When he manages to blink his eyes open he finds T.K. sitting up against the headboard, smiling fondly down at him. “Good morning husband,” he says softly, brushing his fingers through Carlos’ curls.

“Good morning,” Carlos says, smiling back. He rolls onto his back and captures T.K.’s hand, staring at the gold band encircling his finger. “You’re happy?” he asks, looking up to meet T.K.’s eyes.

“So happy,” T.K. assures him. “So, blissfully happy.”

“Me too,” Carlos says. He shifts a little, brow furrowing when he sees what’s in T.K.’s lap. “Are you reading my book?”

“I am,” T.K. says.

Carlos furrows his brow. “You don’t read. And you definitely don’t read my smutty romance novels.”

“That’s true. But you’ve been asleep for a long time and I needed a way to entertain myself because you seemed very reluctant to let me go last night. I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

It’s crazy how T.K.’s words can light him up from the inside out. The level of care T.K. lavishes on him is unparalleled. “Thank you,” Carlos says softly. “What time is it?”

T.K. glances at the clock. “A little after eleven.”

“Eleven!” Carlos startles. “I slept for twelve hours?!”

“It’s good babe. You’ve barely gotten any sleep this week. You needed the rest.”

Carlos is still shocked. “How long have you been awake?”

“Since like eight.”

“You sat here with me for three hours?”

“I did get up and go to the bathroom,” T.K. admits. “But I was very quick. I wanted to get back and find out why Alex hates Henry so much.”

Carlos snorts. “He doesn’t hate him.”

“Oh I got that,” T.K. says. “The blatant horniness practically leaps off the page.”

“Don’t make fun of my book.”

“I’m not! I’m not!” T.K. chuckles. “It’s sweet the way they want each other.”

“That’s why I picked it,” Carlos says. “It felt like it might be fun to read before our wedding. Two young men falling desperately in love.”

“Just like us,” T.K. says, locking their fingers together. “I am desperately, desperately in love with you Carlos Reyes. Always have been. Always will be.”

“Soulmates,” Carlos says softly.

T.K. nods. “Soulmates.”

He pushes himself up so they can kiss, long and sweet. When he pulls back he grimaces. “Sorry. Morning breath. I didn’t brush my teeth last night.”

“Yeah I knew you were out of it because you skipped that and the seven step skincare routine,” T.K. teases lightly.

“Is this what marriage is going to be? You making fun of my books and my self care routine?”

“Absolutely,” T.K. says immediately. “It was a footnote in my vows. I vow to take care and nurture you heart for the rest of my life and also mock you mercilessly as is my right as your husband.”

“Damn,” Carlos snaps his fingers. “I knew I should have read the fine print.”

“Too late. You’re stuck with me,” T.K. says.

“Stuck with someone who puts off our hotel reservation and stays with me in bed all morning. Not a bad way to be stuck,” Carlos says, partly to T.K. and partly to himself.

“How do you feel this morning?” T.K. asks.

Carlos considers this. “Better,” he says. “Lighter.”

“We don’t have to go to the hotel,” T.K. tells him. “We don’t even have to go on our honeymoon if you’re not feeling up to it. We can cancel the whole thing and just stay here.”

It feels overwhelming to try and make that decision. He feels okay now, in control of the grief instead of letting it consume him the way it had last night. But his hold on it feels tentative and he’s not sure what tomorrow or even the next few hours will bring.

T.K. seems to sense this. “One thing at a time,” he says. “Do you want to go to the hotel?”

“Yes.” Carlos is a little surprised by how quickly the answer comes, but the thought of spending time with T.K. in such an incredible space feels safe enough. They’ll be close to home, they can always come back if he falls apart. “Yes I want to.”

T.K. beams at him. “Me too. Let’s go.”

Their bags are still packed and in the car, they hadn’t planned on coming back home after the wedding at all, so they’re ready to go in a matter of hours.

Carlos drives this time, T.K.’s hand tucked into his most of the way. He keeps rubbing his fingers over the cool metal of T.K.’s wedding band. In so many ways it feels like they’ve been married since the day T.K. came home to the loft, but having this tangible, visible reminder of their love feels so incredibly special.

They pull up to the valet and Carlos brings T.K.’s hand up to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “All right, save it for the jacuzzi,” T.K. teases, making him smile.

The joy he’d felt yesterday during the ceremony and the beginning of the reception feels like it’s rekindling in his chest. He’s married. For real this time. To a man who holds his heart and his body with care and love. It’s more than he ever could have dreamed of.

They check in and are immediately swept into five diamond luxury. Their bags are whisked away and they’re given fresh, fruit flavored water before being ushered upstairs by their personal butler Victor. It feels slightly ridiculous, they’re a paramedic and a police officer, not the Kardashians, and he catches T.K.’s eye more than once in the elevator, his husband looking like he’s about to burst into laughter at the poshness of it all. This absolutely feels like something Owen Strand would enjoy and is far too rich for the two of them.

“Mr. and Mr. Strand-Reyes,” Victor says as they reach the penthouse floor and Carlos bites back a laugh because of course Owen made sure the reservation went his way on the hyphenation, “welcome to your suite.”

The door slides open and they walk into a room so big the loft could fit in it three times over. There are floor to ceiling windows that highlight the downtown world of Austin, along with a king size bed covered in rose petals, a freaking chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a bottle of sparkling cider on ice, and a tray of handcrafted pastry treats. They can’t see the bathroom from where they’re standing, but Carlos has a feeling it’s equally as grand as the rest of the room.

Victor explains the call button to them and gives them a tour of the space (the bathroom is indeed huge and Carlos feels T.K. squeeze his hand when Vincenzo shows them how to work the jacuzzi), while a second hotel employee delivers their bags and begins to unpack for them.

It’s everything last night should have been and Carlos resolves to make up for ending their wedding night in tears. Tonight? Tonight things are going to be perfect.

“Well, your dad really outdid himself,” Carlos says when Victor takes his leave. “If Owen Strand was a hotel room, this is what he’d be.”

“My dad does enjoy going overboard,” T.K. says, hopping up onto the bed and bouncing a little. “How much do you think it’s going to cost if we break that chair over there?”

“More money than we’ll ever make in our lifetime,” Carlos says.

“That’s what I thought.” T.K. flops all the way down onto the comforter, rose petals fluttering around him. “Oh my god this bed is amazing. Babe, come here.”

He wiggles a hand and Carlos huffs a fond chuckle as he walks over to join him. They lie flat on their backs staring up at the crystals of the chandelier, sparkling with tiny rainbows as they catch the light of the late afternoon Austin sunlight. “We’re married,” T.K. says softly. He turns his head and looks at Carlos. “You kissed me in a honky tonk bathroom and then you married me.”

That night seems like a million years ago and yet Carlos can still feel every second of it in his bones. The instant he’d looked into those green eyes he should have known this was where they’d end up. It was inevitable. “This is a little nicer than that bathroom,” he says, his eyes dropping to T.K.’s lips.

“It is,” T.K. agrees, leaning closer, that half lidded, wanting look on his face.

The kiss is soft, the perfume of the rose petals filling the air as they’re crushed beneath their bodies. Carlos doesn’t wait long before rolling so that he’s hovering over T.K. There’s an urgency thrumming through his veins, but he refuses to give into it. He doesn’t want to rush this moment. He wants it to be like that first night, so bright and sharp that it writes itself on his very soul so he can relive it over and over again in the years to come.

“Let’s get this off,” Carlos murmurs, sitting back so that T.K. can push himself upward. They work together to remove his shirt and then he lays back down again while Carlos makes quick work of his sneakers and then undoes the button on his pants, slowly sliding them down his legs.

T.K. puts his hands behind his head, his eyes following Carlos’ every move. “Yours too,” he says when Carlos goes to rejoin him, still fully clothed.

Carlos shakes his head. “Let me take care of you first.”

But T.K. sits up again, his hands coming to rest on Carlos’ hips. “If you’re taking care of me, then you should give me what I want,” he says, tilting his head to the side and looking up at Carlos from underneath his lashes. When Carlos doesn’t move T.K. lifts the hem of his shirt with one hand and presses a kiss into the softness below his navel, causing the muscles in Carlos’ stomach to clench with want. He drops one hand into T.K.’s hair, tightening it when T.K.’s teeth scrape gently across his skin. “Okay,” he breathes. “You win.”

T.K. smirks up at him. “I usually do.”

Bastard. He always does.

Carlos pulls off his shirt and throws it somewhere to be found later and then lets his pants join it. “Better,” T.K. says as he reclines once more, his eyes going dark as he drinks in the miles of bare skin Carlos has exposed.

Carlos presses his knees into the mattress, straddling T.K.’s hips. He gazes down, memorizing the sight of him with a halo of rose petals scattered around his head. T.K.’s lips are already pink from their kisses, his cheeks flushed with desire even though they’ve barely started. He’s so achingly gorgeous that it takes Carlos’ breath away.

T.K. reaches up to cradle his face. “You’re my husband,” he says. “We take care of each other.”

Husband. Carlos lowers his head and kisses T.K. once, then again. He breathes the word into his mouth, marks it into his skin with his teeth, paints it with his tongue into the lines of his stomach and hips until not a single part of him is unclaimed. Nothing about them has changed physically, but those two syllables make everything feel different. His mind knows and he ensures T.K.’s body does too.

It’s soft and slow, the minutes melting into hours as they take their time finding their way through this new level of intimacy.

In between, when they’re catching their breath, they drink the sparkling cider and feed each other pastries in a tangle of bedsheets before falling back into each other’s arms again. By the time the sky turns pink with dusk Carlos feels boneless with pleasure. He never wants to leave this bed. He never wants to be separated from T.K. again.

“I’m hungry,” T.K. says from where his head is pillowed on Carlos’ chest. He’s stroking his fingers slowly up and down in the space between Carlos’ hip and his ribs. “Let’s order room service.”

Carlos’ stomach rumbles in agreement, putting an end to his plans to stay in this bed forever. “Good idea,” he says, pressing a kiss to T.K.’s hair. “Go ahead and grab the menu.”

T.K. props himself up so he can look at Carlos. “Oh I have to be the one to leave the bed?”

“Well you’re on top right now,” Carlos reminds him. “And you did say you wanted to take care of me.”

“I believe I said we take care of each other,” T.K. reminds him, poking a finger into his stomach.

“Well if you get up I promise I will take care of you any way you want when you get back,” Carlos says with a grin.

T.K. huffs but rolls off the bed, walking across the room without bothering to put any clothes on. Carlos sits up against the pillows, watching as his husband walks across the room and grabs the menu off the table. He smirks when he turns around and catches Carlos staring. “Like what you see?”

“Always,” Carlos says.

T.K. plops back onto the bed, turning the menu over and reading through it. “How do we feel about duck confit tacos? Or strawberry goat cheese crostini?” He looks up at Carlos. “Let’s get both. It is on my dad after all.”

“Whatever you want,” Carlos says and means it. God he would do anything for this man, his heart is so full he feels like he could burst.

T.K. orders half the menu in the end and insists on a glass of wine for Carlos even though he says he doesn’t need it. “We’re celebrating,” T.K. says firmly. “You should drink the fancy wine.”

“Okay,” Carlos agrees. “If it will make you happy I will drink the wine.”

“Good,” T.K. says. He sits back and looks at Carlos. “How are you feeling?”

Carlos’ heart twinges and he tries to push it away. He doesn’t want anything to poke at their little bubble of happiness. “I’m fine,” he says, smiling and settling back beneath the sheets. “I’m happy T.K. Really. I’m not…last night won’t happen again.”

“It would be okay,” T.K. says softly, “if it did.”

Carlos swallows hard. “I don’t want to feel like that anymore.”

“I know,” T.K. says, his face compassionate. He squeezes Carlos’ knee through the sheets. “I wish I could tell you that you won’t. That the worst of it is over.”

“I know you can’t,” Carlos says. “I know it’s…I know it’s going to take time.”

T.K. nods and then leans over and reaches into his suitcase. “I got you something.”

Carlos holds out his hand and T.K. drops a silver chain into it. It coils in his palm and Carlos looks up at him questioningly. “When I’m on shift,” T.K. says, “I’m going to wear my ring on the chain with my medallion. I thought you might want a way to keep our ring and your dad’s ring close too.”

Carlos looks down to where both rings rest on his fingers, one of them a blessing, the other a reminder of his loss. Tears clog his throat at the thoughtfulness of his husband. “Thank you,” he says. “God, I love you so much, you know that?”

Instead of answering T.K. leans forward and kisses him. “I know,” he murmurs against Carlos’ lips. “Always and forever I know.”

The warmth and weight of their bodies pressing together makes Carlos thrum with want all over again and he pulls back reluctantly. “We should wait,” he says. “Victor will be here soon and we don’t want to give him a show.”

“Are you sure?” T.K. asks, ever the bad influence in their relationship.

“Later,” Carlos says, giving him another firm peck on the lips to finish it.

“Fine,” T.K. says with a roll of his eyes as he slides off the bed. “I have to go to the bathroom. Don’t do anything fun without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Carlos says as he disappears behind the bathroom door.

His phone chirps and he picks it up, his heart immediately squeezing with a lightning flash of pain. It’s a reminder about their flights tomorrow. They’re supposed to be on a two fifteen flight to Mexico. And they still haven’t decided if they’re going.

A second reminder pings onto the screen about their hotel reservation. He taps it and watches as it opens up to the hotel’s home page. His eyes drink in the sight of blue water, white sand, gorgeous pools, and stunning sunsets. It’s beautiful. The stuff honeymoon dreams are made of.

He hears the toilet flush and the water run in the sink before T.K. reappears, now dressed in a massively fluffy white robe with the hotel’s logo embroidered over his heart. “I’m never taking this off,” T.K. says, holding out his arms so Carlos can get the full effect. “This is the softest thing I’ve ever put on. I feel like a WASPy woman from New England.”

He catches sight of Carlos’ face and cocks his head. “You okay?”

“Will you be disappointed if we don’t go to Mexico?”

“No,” he says immediately. “We can do it another time. Or never. It doesn’t matter to me. All that I care about is you feeling safe. If that means staying home then that’s what we’ll do.”

“T.K. the entire last week has been about me and what I need,” Carlos says softly. “What do you need? What do you want?”

“I want to do what’s best for you.”

“T.K.”

T.K. shakes his head and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Sorry babe. It’s all about you this time.” He flashes a smile. “Don’t worry, it will be all about me again someday.”

Carlos snorts. “I’m sure it will.”

“But for now you have to make the call. And if you can’t, then I’ll just tell you, we’re not going. I’m not taking you out of the country when you’re uncertain about it. If you barely made it through a vacation with your family out of state, we’re definitely not going somewhere that requires a passport to get back.”

Carlos’ heart tears a little bit. Hearing T.K. talk about them not going hurts. They’ve both used up so much vacation time, there’s no chance they’ll be able to go again in the next calendar year. “I think we should go,” he says, testing the words out to see how they feel.

T.K. looks at him intently. “Are you sure?”

Carlos glances down at the pictures again. “So much about the last few months has been us trying to scramble and fix things. We had to rush to plan the wedding and then we barely made it to the altar at all. This is one thing we can do that fits the script of getting married. I think it might feel good to do something normal. We need a break. We need time and space. I think,” he swallows, “I think that’s what my dad would want for us.”

“I think so too,” T.K. says.

It feels right. “Then we’re going.”

T.K.’s face breaks into that sunshine filled, elated grin that took Carlos’ breath away on that honky tonk dance floor three years ago. “Baby! We’re going to Mexico!”

He launches himself at Carlos, tackling him into the mattress and kissing whatever part of him is closest to his mouth. Carlos laughs and pushes him off. “Stop! Victor’s going to be here any minute.” He looks around and winces. “Maybe we should clean up a little.”

The room looks like they’ve been having a sex marathon. Their clothes are everywhere, the sheets and duvet are practically on the floor, and somehow they’ve knocked over the fake potted plant in the corner.

T.K. rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure Victor knows what people get up to in here. It’s fine.”

Carlos starts to get up. “I’m just going to move—“

T.K. grabs his hand and forces him to stay. “Do not get out of this bed. We only have so many hours left and we are not wasting time cleaning up.”

Carlos gives him a look. “Fine then. What do you want to do while we wait that doesn’t involve sex or cleaning?”

T.K. flops onto his side of the bed. “Read me some more of your smutty book.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes seriously. I want to know what happens on New Year’s Eve.”

Carlos laughs as he reaches down beside the bed and retrieves the book from his bag. “I’ll make a romance reader out of you yet,” he says as T.K. snuggles into his side.

“One book,” T.K. says. “I’m not committing to liking an entire genre. Don’t invite me to your book club.”

“That’s how it starts. One book and then another and then another…”

“Not happening babe.”

Carlos smiles fondly. “Good thing I have the rest of our lives to try and convince you.”

#Crowd Me With Love #Tarlos #Post Wedding Fic #Husband Era #Tarlos Husbands #Tarlos Wedding #911 Lone Star #911lsfic #911 Lone Star Fic #Tarlos Fic

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