#I play Texas its great

[crocs-in-socks13]

As somebody who is apart of a group that role-plays the blood gulch gang in a vr setting shit gets WILD when everybody is in character. I have so many stories of the chaos that happens i.e the Lopez incident and the many many Caboose incidents.

The group isn’t very good at naming things I know

#red vs blue #rvb #rvb tex #blood gulch #I play Texas its great #our Grif hates me #its so funny

[higurehige]

So texas just declared rebellion against the united states ....I live in Texas.... Not really sure how that's gonna go down but, alright, guess we're just fillin out the square that said "civil war" earlier than I expected....

#im not gonna lie to you #i live in san antonio and it's a haven for immigrants - it doesnt get along with greg #they tell greg to go fuck himself at regular intrevals #wich is great bc gregs fuckin stupid most of the time #so I'm a tad worried we may be on the targetted list but....i guess we just see how this plays out #maybe nothing will come of it besides texas just doing whatever tf it wants law wise #wich its always done anyway #gregs just being dramatic about it

[upsidedizzy]

story behind this audio: i was on the tf2 wiki, clicking random page, as one does on a wiki, when i landed on the item called "texas half-pants." this item has a voice line at the top of its wiki page. there is a link that says "click to listen" to this audio clip, which i assumed would bring up an audio player or at least take me to a separate page to listen to the audio in my browser. instead, it automatically downloaded the sound clip to my computer. i was laughing at this, saying, "this is on my computer now, great," and i clicked on the file to open it, thinking it would play it in whatever media player i had set as default. it did play…but apparently my default music player was set to itunes. so it opened itunes, added the clip to my itunes library, played the clip, and THEN started playing the next song in the queue, which was coconut mall from mario kart wii. so this is what i experienced just now.

#audio #tf2 #mario kart wii #coconut mall #i even tried to trim it to the point where i finally managed to stop the playback and close the window so you get the actual experience

[toournextadventure]

our little secret

Summary: You're the preacher's daughter with the perfect boyfriend. Lorraine is a rancher's daughter with a less than perfect boyfriend. You were both the best of friends. If only anyone knew what went on behind closed doors.

Word Count: 7.4k Warnings: 18+ smut (fingering, oral), swearing, religious talk (talk of sin, seminary, Christian/Baptist views), religious trauma, mentions of homophobia, angst Pairing: Lorraine Day x Fem!Reader Taglist: @aahdiieb (our little secret i) (our little secret ii) (our little secret iii) (our little secret iv)

There was something relaxing about spending a day outdoors on someone else's farm. Well, you had a farm; they had a ranch. It was quite the different beast to take care of, but you were more than happy to assist in whatever they needed you for, and they were always more than happy to ask for your assistance.

A benefit of being the preacher's daughter, you supposed.

It wasn't the first time you had found yourself crawling under Mr. Day's truck, and it wouldn't be the last. Piece 'a shit is broke, he grumbled before immediately following it up with don't tell your daddy I swore. You had just laughed at him and promised your lips were sealed.

But now that you found yourself tearing it apart, you had to agree with him. His truck was a certified piece of shit.

You slid out from under the truck and sat up with a sigh, your arms resting on your bent knees. It was going to take far more than one day's worth of work to get it fixed. That was mighty fine with you, though, you liked the Day family. They came to church dutifully and your parents almost always had them over afterwards for lunch. Just a nice, genuine Texas family. That was why you liked them.

Certainly not because of Lorraine.

"She's broke, huh?" Mr. Day asked, bringing you out of your thoughts. You glanced up and saw him leaning against the door frame of the barn.

"She ain't broke," you said with a shake of your head. "She just needs some love." You gave him a teasing smile. "Which you ain't givin' her."

"S'pose not," he huffed.

"Hope you been givin' your family more love than your truck," you continued as you pushed yourself up to your feet. Oil covered hands tried to brush stray pieces of straw off your jeans and left black stains in its place. "Ain't nothin' more important than family."

"Well now you sound just like your daddy," Mr. Day chuckled. You turned your head so he couldn't see the grimace his words caused.

"Sometimes he's right," you managed to chuckle back. If he picked up on the double edge of your words, he didn't acknowledge it. It was better that way.

"Well, he can be right again," Mr. Day said as he stretched his hand out in your direction. "Come on in, now, Mrs. Day made lunch."

You walked forward, suddenly focused on trying to wipe the oil off your hands. Mr. Day's hand rested lightly on your lower back, guiding you back to the house while you were now otherwise distracted. His other hand reached out to hold your forearm, helping you not trip up the stairs. By the time he opened the front porch door for you, you had managed to get absolutely no oil off your hands.

"Afternoon, Mrs. Day," you said with a smile and a little wave.

"Better wash those hands off 'fore you touch anything in this kitchen," she said with a pointed look that then directed you to the kitchen sink.

"Yes ma'am," you said with a sag in your shoulders. It made you feel like a child getting scolded for playing in the mud.

Only once she had declared your hands "good enough" did she have you sit down at the table for lunch. It was the perfect lunch, in your opinion; sandwiches, chips, and an ice cold coke. Mrs. Day really knew how to put the charm on.

"How are your brothers holdin’ up?" She asked once everyone had started eating.

"They're…" you hesitated. Perfect Christian family, your father's voice echoed in your head. "They're great," you finally said with a polite smile. "Just goin’ ta classes.”

“And that fella of yours?” Mr. Day asks.

You almost laughed. Instead you took a bite of your sandwich and took the time to chew before answering.

“Beau is fine,” you said with a small smile to yourself. “He should be back from the rodeo tomorrow mornin’.”

“How’d he do?” Mr. Day asked around his own mouthful of food. “Calf ropin’, wasn’t it?”

“Team ropin’,” you said with a nod. “Think he said him and his partner got third?”

“Well that ain’t half bad,” he mumbled. “Lorraine and RJ are s’pose to get back from that film thing tomorrow, too.”

The mention of Lorraine got your heart pounding in your chest, threatening to rise up out of your throat. Everything about her got your body reacting in ways you couldn’t quite describe. The mere mention of her name got your palms sweaty, your thoughts foggy, and your mouth dry.

But then the mention of RJ made you feel sick to your stomach, like when you drank warm milk after it had been sitting on the counter all morning. The thought of him touching Lorraine, or kissing her, or even talking to her made you irrationally angry. It wasn’t something the good lord would want from you.

Too bad you didn’t really care.

“The four of you should go down to the lake tomorrow,” Mr. Day mused aloud. “Give you all a day or two to relax before gettin’ back down to business.”

“Only if y’all behave,” Mrs. Day scolded. She didn’t wait for either of you to finish your lunch before taking the plates to the sink. You quickly got up to help.

It was the Southern thing to do.

“Go on home, sugar,” Mr. Day said when you finished drying the plates.

“I need to finish your truck,” you said as you leaned your hip against the counter. “She’ll never get fixed if you keep sendin’ me home after feedin’ me.”

“I think she can last a little longer,” he said with a light chuckle. “Go home. I’ll tell ‘Raine y’all can meet up around 2.”

“When the sun’s shinin’ down?” You complained.

“It’s good for you. You’ve been locked in that chapel for so long you’re gettin’ mighty ghostly-”

“-John,” Mrs. Day interrupted. You had to turn away from her so she couldn’t see you laughing. “That’s blasphemy.”

“Preacher’s daughter is here, she’ll forgive my transgressions,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Won’t you?”

“In a heartbeat,” you replied.

“You’re both blasphemers,” Mrs. Day huffed before walking away.

You and Mr. Day tried to stifle your laughter to avoid getting in trouble again, but you couldn’t help it. Only when Mrs. Day beat you both with the hand towel did you both stop, shouting your “sorrys” as you ran outside. You called out your goodbyes and hopped into your daddy’s truck before going back home.

“You’ve gotta be quiet,” you mumbled against Lorraine’s lips. Her fingers scratched against the back of your neck in response before pulling you back to her.

You let her lead, pulling you with her until her back hit the wall with a *thud*. You tried to tell her to be quiet again but she didn’t let you pull away. Her arms tightened around your neck. Your own hands slid under the hem of her shirt, resting on her waist. She shivered, giving you all the approval you needed to trail your fingers up her sides, stopping right below her breasts.

"Please," she whimpered against your lips.

Oh, how that gave you such unholy thoughts.

You didn't bother removing her bra; there was too much risk involved. But you had no shame in pushing it up just enough for your hands to cup her breasts. The smallest moan fell from her lips and you had barely brushed your thumbs against her nipples.

"Quiet, 'Raine," you whispered.

But before she could answer, you softly squeezed one of her nipples between your fingers. She moaned into your mouth that time, and you couldn't help your little chuckle before doing it again. Her back arched, pushing the rest of her closer to you. All you needed to do was put your knee-

-you shoved Lorraine into the coats when you heard the door click and open. You spun around just in time to see Jimmy looking in, quickly meeting your eyes.

"I'm goin' to see Liz," he said. "If Pap asks, I'm out studyin' with Blaine."

"You better not get her pregnant, Jim,” you said quickly, almost forgetting why you were in the chapel closet in the first place. “I can’t protect you from daddy forever.”

“I ain’t gettin’ her pregnant, god,” he huffed. “You know too much.”

“It’s on account ‘a I’m your big sister,” you said with a pointed finger, “and if you get her pregnant before you marry her, I’m gonna tan your hide.”

“You got me shakin’ in my boots,” Jimmy taunted with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll see you later.” He turned to walk out but leaned in through the doorway once again. “Bye Lorraine.”

You locked eyes with Jimmy and froze. There was a small smirk on his lips that you wanted to smack off. But then you heard rustling behind you, and his smile grew when you felt Lorraine’s hands on your waist as she leaned out from behind you.

“Bye, Jimmy,” she said sheepishly.

“Not a word, Jim,” you said with a slight shake of your head.

“You scratch my back, I scratch yours,” he said with a smile. “I’ll tell Liz y’all said hi.”

Both you and Lorraine mumbled goodbyes as Jimmy finally shut the door and left. You let out a shaky sigh and turned around to look at Lorraine. By all accounts she looked embarrassed with her flushed cheeks and guilty smile. But the flush could still be from the fact that she was turned on.

You would be in the same boat.

“I told you to hush,” you mumbled.

“Then keep me quiet,” Lorraine said before she wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you in for another kiss that had your stomach twisting into knots.

Oh this girl would be the death of you.

You were still remembering that day at the chapel while you watched Beau finish clearing out the trailer. It was a tough job, watching your fake boyfriend clear out the trailer with his fake friend. The way they laughed and couldn’t keep their eyes off each other was almost embarrassing. They were disgusting, truly. They needed to learn the definition of discretion.

“Howdy, beautiful,” Beau said with a smile when he finally approached you after cleaning back up.

“Afternoon, handsome,” you teased back.

When he was close enough, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he gave you a kiss on the cheek. It was simple, much more conservative than most couples. But it was a line you both had settled on. After all, it wasn’t like either of you were interested in each other. You both had… other fascinations.

“Bye, Huck,” you called out to Hucksley when you started climbing into your daddy’s truck. “I’ll bring him back in one piece.”

“Have fun, you two!” He shouted back with a big ‘ole grin and a wave.

“He likes you,” Beau said when he started driving over to the Day ranch. At the rate you were going, you would both get there just before 2. And then you could finally see Lorraine again.

“Y’all able to get some alone time this trip?” You asked. You didn’t bother looking at him, instead opting to look out the window.

“Little bit,” he said. “You get to see Lorraine yet?”

“No,” you sighed. “She went off with RJ. Again.”

“You know he is her beau,” he said with far too much gumption. “It’s almost expected she go with him.”

“That don’t mean I have to like it,” you said quietly.

“Now you know how Huck feels when I'm with you,” he said. “It ain’t easy, but it’s what we gotta do.”

You didn’t bother answering him. You knew he was right, he was always right. Hell would freeze over the day your daddy found out Beau was nothing more than a front so everyone thought you were both having normal relations. If anyone found out about your feelings for Lorraine, or his and Huck’s relationship, your lives would be over.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

What did make it better was seeing Lorraine standing on the porch with Mr. Day. She was staying out of the sun but that didn’t hide the brilliance of her smile. The scarred side of her face was turned away from the road - a habit she had picked up recently - but you didn’t care. She was home, and oh so close. It made your palms sweaty.

You didn’t wait for Beau to park the car before throwing the door open and jumping out. The ground was still rushing underneath you and you stumbled, but quickly regained your footing. All you wanted to do was run up the porch and hug her, letting her know just how much you had missed her over the past two weeks.

But your feet slowed to little more than a walk when RJ came out of the house with a bag in hand. Right. He was there too. Your smile fell into little more than a grin as you forced yourself forward and up the porch. Lorraine turned and gave you those soft, pitiful eyes that made your knees weak.

And the moment was ruined when RJ wrapped an arm over her shoulder.

“Thought you’d never make it,” RJ said with an irritating grin that had you grinding your teeth.

“My fault,” Beau answered as he finally stood behind you. He dutifully put his hand on the small of your back, just like any good boyfriend should. He always did play the part exceptionally well. “Huck and I took a bit to unload the trailer.”

“Congratulations by the way,” Mr. Day said.

“Thank you, sir,” Beau replied. “Coulda done better, but ain’t half-bad.”

“Would you let me film you some day?” RJ asked. “It’d make a good movie.”

“We’ll see, camera boy,” Beau said with a chuckle.

How he could be so casual around RJ was beyond you. The man caused you to want to do un-Christianly things to him. Whether it was his obnoxious smirk, or his stupid hair, or his dumbass glasses. Every single aspect of him got your blood boiling, and him wanting to film Beau was just the icing on the cake.

“Y’all should skedaddle before it gets too late,” Mr. Day said. “Should be plenty of daylight left to pitch the tents.”

“We can take my daddy’s truck,” you said. Lorraine’s eyes were broken, and butterflies instantly erupted in your stomach. "Plenty of space for everything."

Everyone agreed before grabbing their things, telling Mr. and Mrs. Day goodbye, and loading up the truck. Two tents, food, sleeping bags, and small backpacks with some extra clothes and necessities. It was as if you were all professionals. And you were, if you were being honest.

Well. Everyone except RJ.

"In the cab, pardner," Beau said to RJ once everything was loaded. "We'll let the ladies ride in the bed."

"Yeah, alright," RJ mumbled. He gave Lorraine a quick kiss on the lips before getting in the cab.

It made you sick.

Lorraine was perfectly capable of climbing into the bed of the truck all on her own, you knew that. But you couldn't stop yourself from holding your hand out to help her up. She flashed you that smile that you loved so much and climbed in, sitting on the left side. Her bad side.

You didn't bring it up as you climbed in next, sitting down directly beside her and immediately grabbing her hand. It wasn't like anyone could see, you were both surrounded by gear and the truck was already pulling away. She twisted her hand just enough to interlock her fingers with yours and suddenly things weren't so bad anymore. Things almost felt right.

"How was the shoot?" You asked even though you didn't exactly want to know.

"Rocky," Lorraine said; her first word to you in two weeks. "Nothin' went right so we gave up for the weekend."

"Did you join this time?" You continued.

She didn't answer. Her face was turned away from you and your fingers ached to pull her back. To make her look at you so you could see her eyes, caress her scars, kiss her soft lips. But all she ever did nowadays was turn away from you.

It had started after that very first film they did, when she had gotten shot. All you remembered was Mr. Day calling in the middle of the night to let you know she was in the hospital. Nothing had ever put the fear of God into you quite like that night.

Now she always did her best to sit on your left side so you couldn't see her face. It didn't matter how much you kissed her or tried to comfort her, she always turned away from you. The only time she didn't was when she was coming undone beneath you and had plenty of other things on her mind.

"How's Roy?" She asked instead. It was answer enough; she had done a scene or two for the film.

"Can't eat, can't sleep, hootin' and hollerin' cause he thinks he's still in 'Nam," you said with a shrug. "Daddy says we can pray it out of him."

"I'm sorry." Lorraine squeezed your hand lightly before pulling it into her lap and playing with your fingers.

It was your turn not to answer. You didn't want to talk about your veteran brother, or her smut film, or your preacher daddy. Nothing about Beau or RJ or Huck or anything else. You just wanted to talk about her; anything and everything you could possibly find out.

Not like you, Lorraine, Beau, and Huck had all been friends since you were in diapers and knew each other inside and out. That meant nothing.

Lorraine leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder as the truck continued to bounce down the dirt road to the lake. It was hot and humid and you were sweatin’ like a whore in church. But you still let your own head fall on hers and pulled her closer. You could handle the uncomfortable weather if you had her with you.

“I missed you,” Lorraine said softly before practically cuddling deeper into you.

“Missed you too,” you answered. 

There was a desperation to kiss the top of her head, tell her you loved her again. A desperation to pull her into your lap and kiss away the frown that you knew she had on her lips. To show her how much you loved her and give her something to take her mind off of whatever was bothering her.

But the truck pulled to a stop at the lake and she pulled away. It put a lump in your throat when RJ came around and helped her out of the back of the truck. Beau did the same for you, of course, shooting you a sympathetic smile in the process. It didn’t make you feel any better.

“Wanna help me pitch the tents?” He asked you while RJ took Lorraine to the lake, ignoring all the bags in the back.

You nodded and started to grab everything you could. If you “accidentally” left RJ’s bag in the back of the truck, you could be forgiven. Things happened, you know? The Big Man in White would forgive you for any transgressions. Beau started up a conversation for nothing more than to pass time.

It helped.

The sun was just starting to kiss the horizon when RJ and Lorraine came back, a smile on his face and a slight frown on hers. But that frown turned upside down when you admitted “oh I’m sorry, RJ, I must have forgotten your pack.” He grumbled and left to grab it while Lorraine turned around to hide her smile.

It was the little things in life.

“Hey ‘Raine,” Beau called out while RJ was still gone. She turned around to look at him. “Why don’t you and sweetness over there go get some firewood?” He gestured his head to where you were finishing putting the cooler down on the ground.

Oh that sneaky bastard.

She nodded once and waited for you to join her before walking away. You both knew where the firewood was, you had grown up around this lake. It just gave you a nice opportunity to be close to her; you thanked god for Beau every day of your life.

“Beau’s not very sneaky,” Lorraine said once you were both out of earshot of the boys.

“No he ain’t,” you laughed, “but I love him anyway.”

“RJ doesn’t like him,” she continued. “Thinks he’s fake.”

“Bold words,” you grumbled. You didn’t like talking about RJ; he always seemed to be the topic of conversation during the few moments you got alone with Lorraine.

It seemed Lorraine picked up on it because she reached over and grabbed your hand, slotting her fingers between yours and stepping closer. Her skin was just as sweaty as yours thanks to that Texas sun, and your hands were sliding against each other and were all clammy. And it was perfect.

“How’s seminary?” Lorraine asked. You didn’t necessarily like that question either, but you could at least talk about it.

And you did. You both started talking, going over what all had been happening since Lorraine had started traveling with RJ more often. How you and Jimmy were primed and ready to go to seminary, just needed to find out which one. How Lorraine was really starting to enjoy filming, and even sometimes being in the films. You teased her about the promiscuity, which she promptly shoved you for.

“Better watch out, ‘Raine,” you continued, “the flames of Hell might devour you for your sin of the flesh.”

“Oh shut up,” she huffed, but there was a smile on her face. “I think you commit the same sin.”

“I’m not at fault,” you said. You stopped abruptly and Lorraine was yanked back by your hand. With only a little bit of finesse, you pulled her into you until she had to look up at you. “I fell victim to a temptress.”

“Is that what I am?” She asked. “Your temptress?”

You looked down at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She went to turn away, to hide the scars covering the entire left side of her face. But you cupped her cheek instead, keeping her still and looking at you. It broke your heart to see her desire to hide away. Did no one remind her how beautiful she was?

“No,” you said softly, eyes trailing over every scar and freckle on her face. “You’re my whole world.”

You didn’t have to make the first move; Lorraine was more than willing to stand on her toes and kiss you. Just a peck, always just a peck at first, almost as if daring the other one to pull away. But it always led to the same thing. You bent down and cupped both of her cheeks, pulling her into another kiss that had butterflies crawling over every inch of your insides.

The moment her hands gripped your shirt collar, you knew you were done for. That needy, whiny grab that was so full of want and desperation, pulling you closer until you threatened to topple over. It gave you that little push to go a bit further, gently biting her bottom lip to draw out the tiniest moan from her.

You thanked God for whoever had invented the little snap buttons on your shirt. Lorraine's slender fingers could pop them open instantly, and you shivered from both the sudden brush of air and her fingers on your chest. Her skin was hot on yours, scalding like hellfire, and it felt heavenly.

A coyote howled in the distance and you quickly straightened, pulling Lorraine closer to keep her safe. It was getting far darker than you had expected and you knew better than to get caught in the open by a pack. You knew she could hear your heart racing in your chest, and she placed a comforting hand on your now-bare stomach.

"We should get back," you said quietly; you certainly didn't want to alert any coyotes to your location.

"We didn't get firewood," Lorraine said just as quietly. Her breath tickled against your chest.

"Beau and I got some while you were gettin' indecent with RJ," you said before immediately stiffening up.

You weren't supposed to admit that.

"And what, pray tell, are we doin'?" Lorraine asked in what you, Beau, and Huck had dubbed her Scolding Mother voice.

"Sinnin'," you said without hesitation. You were already in trouble, no use trying to get out of it.

"Y'all are bastards," she said with a huff and an elbow to your stomach. You coughed and doubled over, giving her the perfect opportunity to start walking back to camp without you.

"Be careful," you whisper-shouted as you ran after her, your fingers trying desperately to button your shirt back up. “Lorraine!”

You were in a state of complete disarray when you both got back to camp. RJ and Beau were already building the fire; well, Beau was forcing RJ to try and do it. He was failing miserably and you wanted nothing more than to laugh, but the look Lorraine gave you shut you up.

“Need some help, RJ?” You asked when he failed for the fifth time to get the fire started.

“I’ll let you try,” he said with a shake of his head and a shrug. The three of you knew it was his way of saying I can’t do it.

You knelt down and got the fire started in one go. You had to stay on the ground for a few minutes too long so you could stop yourself from looking so smug about it. By the time you stood up, convinced the fire would stay steady, Beau and Lorraine were finishing up preparing for dinner and RJ was messing around with his camera.

“You always have that with you?” You asked him, gesturing your head to the device in his hands.

“Never know when you’ll stumble across the perfect shot,” he said with a smile.

Laughter had you turning your head to see Beau and Lorraine with large smiles on their faces. She looked at peace, like she was actually happy to be there with him. There was no intent to hide herself, or keep quiet, or act a certain way. She was just laughing and pushing him around and talking ceaselessly.

It was the perfect shot, and RJ was missing it.

“Quit it,” you told Beau, who was waving a knife around all willy nilly. “You two go sit down before you hurt somebody.”

“Yes mother,” Beau said with a roll of his eyes. Lorraine said nothing but smiled and walked away to sit beside RJ.

Everyone kind of did their own thing after that; you cooked the stew for dinner, Beau got his guitar out and started picking a few tunes, and Lorraine and RJ were sitting together, whispering about something. Every now and then she would look up and meet your eyes for a moment before focusing on RJ once again.

Beau noticed, as he always did, and decided to make light of the situation. He started strumming a tune, singing horribly off key and inviting you to join. You shook your head and protested and did your best to ignore him, but how could you when he was giving you that smile? It was no wonder he had managed to pull Huck in.

You both continued to sing as terribly as possible, laughing when the coyotes started howling in harmony. He cracked open a lukewarm beer and handed it to you before grabbing one for everyone else and then himself. It was disgusting, but you couldn’t complain too much because it was about the camaraderie, not the taste. About knowing you were all just out having fun, enjoying the reprieve from the real world.

For a moment you could almost believe you were out there with Lorraine, free from the prying, judgmental eyes of the world. When you handed her a bowl of stew and her fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine and a heat in your belly. When she smiled at you while RJ and Beau were talking, as if you were the one she was with.

But then RJ would kiss her on the cheek, or wrap his arm around her, and you felt sick to your stomach. The world certainly knew how to play its sick jokes. You knew what your daddy would have to say about it. It's a temptation from the Devil himself to lust after another woman. Guilt started gnawing at your heart, piece by piece until it was beating wildly and you feared you would pass out.

“We should get some sleep,” Beau proclaimed once talk had died down. Maybe he had noticed you starting to lose every ounce of sanity you had left. You hoped he didn’t. “Plenty more fun to be had tomorrow.”

Everyone mumbled their agreements - you just stared off into the fire - before standing up and stretching. Sitting on the hard ground was always tough on the joints no matter how young you were. Once everyone started getting ready, you cleaned up and put out the fire, your mind still dwelling on the guilt your daddy continued to instill in you even from afar.

“RJ, you’re in the tent with me,” Beau said quickly. “I ain’t invokin’ the wrath of a man of god.”

He didn’t look happy about that proclamation at all, but what could he do? He had grown up a Southern man too, he knew how seriously people took such a thing. So he nodded once, grumbling an agreement before climbing into the tent with Beau hot on his heels. Beau gave you one look before zipping up the tent and leaving you alone with Lorraine.

Alone with Lorraine.

Oh god.

You took far too long gathering your things before heading to the tent. Double and triple checking that the fire was out, looking out for coyotes, checking for rattlers, making sure the food was properly put away. Only when you could no longer find anything to do did you finally venture into the tent where Lorraine was already waiting.

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw Lorraine sitting in the tent, lantern on and book in hand. She had her chin resting in one small hand as the other turned the page. Her hair fell over her face, creating a sheer curtain that you could barely see through. The tanned skin of her shoulder was bare to the world as her too-large sleep gown hung off her arm.

Just the sight of her was enough to make you want to praise the heavens, singing her gospel until God felled you from heaven himself. You would give up the very promise of heaven if it meant you could go to bed seeing her like that every night. The deepest pits of hell could not persuade you from loving her with every beat of your heart and every breath that she pulled from your lungs.

"You're starin'," Lorraine mumbled in her sleepy voice, the one you would die for.

"You're plum wore out," you said as you finally managed to get your body moving again. You zipped the tent up behind you and moved to get on the small pallet beside her.

"Long trip home," she said with a sigh. Slender fingers placed the bookmark in its spot before placing the book beside the lamp and blowing it out.

You laid down in silence, staying as still as possible so as to allow her to go where she pleased. You're acting like you've never slept with her before, your mind taunted you. And it was right, but there was a guilt that was still gnawing at your heart, chomping at the bit to devour you, body and soul.

"You ain't gonna face me?" Lorraine asked, her mouth so close to your ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sorry," you whispered as you turned on your side and ended up face-to-face with her.

"You're thinkin' real hard tonight," she said. You couldn't really see her in the dark, but you heard shuffling before you felt her hand resting on your cheek.

It felt like the touch of god himself.

"I'm alright," you said. Part of you hoped she would believe you.

Part of you hoped she wouldn't. 

"It's just you and me tonight," she said. Her fingers scratched gently against your skin, just enough to keep you grounded.

Tonight, your mind emphasized. It was just you and her tonight. When the sun came up she would go back to RJ, and you would go back to Beau, and no one would think twice. It would be as if nothing had ever happened, as if she hadn't made you want to prostrate yourself at her altar.

"You and me," you said to yourself. If you said it enough, you could believe it.

"I don't wanna fuck tonight," Lorraine said, making you blink in the dark at her complete 180.

"You… you don't?" You asked. "May- may I ask why?"

"All I ever do is fuck," she said, her lips now brushing lightly against yours. “I want you to remind me what love feels like.”

Oh. Oh, you could do that. It was all you ever wanted to do. There wasn't a single thought in your head when you felt her lips press against yours. No thoughts as you wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling her body flush against yours. She was warm and soft; she was yours.

You rolled over onto your back, gently pulling her with you until she was laying on top of you. It always amazed you how small she was, how her weight on you meant nothing as she straddled your stomach. Both of her hands made their way to your neck while yours went under her shirt and to her hips. Her skin was already slick with sweat thanks to the summer heat.

She bit your bottom lip as your hands slid up her sides, caressing every inch of skin they could find. Gentle touches until you reached the sides of her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat when one of your thumbs lightly brushed against her nipple, immediately followed by a shiver down her back.

“Don’t tease,” Lorraine mumbled against your lips. 

You hummed your acknowledgment and leaned up into another kiss, but continued to leave the lightest of touches. Brushing a knuckle against her nipple, softly kneading her flesh. Only when she was least expecting it did you do anything more, rolling a nipple between your thumb and forefinger and swallowing her moan.

The simple touch had her rolling her hips against your stomach. Even with her panties on, you could feel her arousal on your stomach. Just the knowledge that you had such an effect on her was enough to convince you that she had too many clothes on.

She whined when you removed your hands from her breasts. A needy, breathy sound that quickly disappeared when you pulled her gown up. Her lips parted from yours just long enough to get the gown over her head before she leaned down, instantly kissing you again.

Your hands rested on her hips, just tracing patterns on her skin as she continued to roll her hips. Her movements were slow, methodical. She was working herself up, not trying to get off just yet.

"Take it off," she mumbled as her hands fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. Well, it was Beau's shirt, but no one cared.

"Yes ma'am," you answered before sitting up.

Lorraine slid into your lap while her hands tugged at your shirt, attempting to assist you. But you could tell she was already too desperate, too distracted to be of any genuine help. As you pulled your shirt off, her own hands quickly replaced it, running over every inch of skin she could reach.

"I missed you," she said breathlessly. Her hands trailed from your neck down to your breasts, giving them the same teasing treatment you had given her.

"I missed you too " you answered just as breathlessly before her lips closed around one of your nipples and drew a moan out of you.

She loved to do that. She loved to interrupt your thoughts with her actions, whether it was a gentle bite here or the scratching of her nails on your back. And she did just that, biting down just hard enough to pull a gasp from you before soothing the sting with her tongue.

You let her continue for a few moments; it was one of her favourite things to do. All the while you massaged her hips, her thighs, could practically feel the heat from her core. She was still working herself up.

"Come here," you said, gently pulling her face back up to yours.

You couldn't see her in the dark but you could imagine the lust-drunk look she was giving you as you laid her down on the pallet. Both of your hands were on either side of her head, caging her in. Your thigh strategically placed itself between her legs and she took no time in rutting against it.

Her arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you into another kiss. One thing about Lorraine, she loved to be kissed. To taste you, feel your tongue on her lips, your lips on her skin. If you were kissing her then you loved her, and she couldn't have been more right.

"More," she said with another desperate grind against your thigh.

You lowered yourself down to your elbows before shifting your weight. Your body was tilted ever so slightly so as not to crush her while one of your hands finally made its way back down her body. If the sweat was anything to go by, you knew exactly what you would find when you slid your hand in between your thigh and her panties.

The wetness on your thigh and stomach had already told you how worked up she was, but when you actually felt how soaked her panties were, you couldn't help but sigh. She just made it so easy to tease her, to run your fingers over her so lightly that all she could do was whine and squirm.

"Stop teasin'," Lorraine whined, pulling a smile from you.

"Take these off too," you said in reply.

She had never moved so fast in her life, you reckoned. But almost within an instant she had kicked her panties off and laid bare beneath you. You wished the lantern was on so you could see her. See her kiss-swollen lips and her freckled skin, the blush on her cheeks or the almost bashful look in her eyes. You wanted to see her; all of her.

But she clearly felt you were taking too long, because she grabbed your hand and placed it exactly where she wanted it. You dipped your finger into her arousal and up to her clit once. She threw her head back with a moan at the same time as you.

"Jesus, Lorraine," you said as you bent down to kiss her neck. "You're so fuckin' wet and I barely touched you."

You could feel the vibrations of her moan against your lips as you continued to kiss down her body. Your fingers slowly circled her clit, putting the lightest amount of pressure just to keep her worked up. You kissed her collarbone, her chest, left little love bites on her breasts. Her hips rolled with your fingers as you kissed lower, across her stomach and to her hips. Extra kisses for her hips, one love bite on each before being soothed with your tongue.

"Please," Lorraine whimpered just loud enough for you to hear.

How could you say no to that?

The first swipe of your tongue already had her back arching and her fingers tangling themselves in your hair. She tasted like the nectar of heaven, something you could only ever find from her. Any semblance of self control dissipated and you dove back in like you had been parched for a thousand years.

Her hips wriggled below you with every touch on her clit. Flat broad licks always brought out the low moans from her while the quick kitten licks had her whining and her thighs shaking.

"You gotta be quiet, 'Raine," you said when you picked your head up for a moment to try and see her face.

Her fingers removed themselves from your hair before cupping your cheeks and pulling you back up. Part of you was upset you couldn't taste her anymore, but then she pulled you into another kiss. This one deep and slow. She liked your bottom lip and you quickly parted your lips, allowing her to taste herself on your tongue.

"Then keep me quiet," she said before immediately kissing you again.

She was going to be the death of you.

With your mouth now preoccupied, your fingers went back to work. Rubbing slow, wide circles on her clit to make up for the few seconds of lost contact. Lorraine sighed through her nose, the air tickling your cheek. But you were tired of teasing her. It had been too long for you to tease her all night.

You pressed two fingers against her entrance lightly, giving her time to tell you no. One of her hands left your face and grabbed your wrist, pushing you completely into her. You both moaned into each other, her at the feel of your fingers and you at how tight and warm she was.

Sometimes she liked it harder, faster, but not tonight. Tonight you went with slow, deep strokes. Every time you would pull out, you would curl your fingers just enough to hit that sweet spot that had her toes curling. Her hips rolled to meet your hand, pushing your fingers just that extra bit deeper to have her a sweaty, moaning mess below you.

You didn't stop kissing her when you moved your thumb to her clit, adding that extra sensation. Her nails dug into the back of your neck and your wrist, but you didn't care. She would bite your lip every time your fingers thrusted into her deeper than usual. She was coming completely undone.

All it took was one more circle on her clit before she came, clenching around your fingers and moaning into your mouth. You kept thrusting slowly, softly, helping her ride it out until she could gently come back down. You could feel the welts on your neck and wrist, but it didn't hurt. You stayed completely still until you could feel her body start to relax again, only then removing your fingers slowly.

"I love you," she whispered with a husky, exhausted voice. "I love you."

"I love you too, Lorraine," you whispered back before laying down beside her and pulling her until you could curl your body around her.

She interlocked her fingers with yours and pulled your hands tight to her chest. You felt her lips press kisses into each fingertip, the kisses getting slower and slower until you could feel her even breathing. Part of you wanted to laugh; she always fell asleep so quickly.

The other part was screaming. Reminding you that she wasn't yours. That come morning, she would go back with RJ like nothing had ever happened, and you would be alone again. You would never get the girl, and one day he would even take her away from you.

You closed your eyes and pulled her impossibly closer, feeling the warmth from her skin. The Texas heat was unbearable even in the dark, and it was humid and you were both sweaty. But the touch of her skin on yours was worth it. You left lingering kisses to the back of her bare neck as she continued to sleep.

"I love you, Lorraine," you whispered into the dark for no one but god to hear.

At least for now you could pretend she was yours. Just for one night.

#lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #jenna ortega x reader #lorraine day smut

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: September 26th, 2003

Plot: There are very few tragedies in life that come with warning.

Word Count: 12.8k (longest chapter yet)

Warnings: tlou ep.1 spoilers, language, canon-typical violence, gore, blood, guns, death, loss of a child, injuries, implied smut (16+)

A/N: Well, we’ve arrived at that fateful chapter…this took so long to even be emotionally able to write. There are so many small details that I hope people catch, and plenty of things to remember for future chapters.

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist unless your age/range is specified in your bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I hope y’all enjoy this one, and thank you so much for all the kind words, theories and general love I receive throughout the week 💞

————————

September 26th, 2003. Austin, Texas.

There are very few tragedies in life that come with warning.

Families of the terminally ill are given a vague timeline of when they’ll lose their loved one.

Soldiers are told before marching into battle that they may lose their life.

But a car crash does not announce itself before causing the collision.

A heart attack doesn’t prepare its victim before it steals their breath.

Nor did Cordyceps feel it owed the world any notice before it arrived.

On the morning of September 26th, Y/n was awoken by strips of sunlight coming through the blinds of Joel’s bedroom window. She was the early riser out of the two and she never minded, it gave her more time to admire the handsome lump weighing her down.

Y/n brushed a strand of hair off her boyfriend’s forehead and pressed a feather light kiss to it. Joel didn’t wake easily, but she liked to say she at least tried the sweet way before having to go nuclear. She gently rubbed his back, running her palm up and down the warm skin, but it only made him settle deeper into her chest. Y/n smiled and shook her head, knowing that in mere seconds….

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

It truly was miraculous how deep Joel could go into his rest. Y/n rolled her eyes and tried to reach across the pillows to switch off the clock, her fingers wiggling in the air as she strained. With his arms firmly wrapped around Y/n’s body, Joel didn’t even budge.

Finally, salvation came in the form of Sarah banging on the bedroom door, jolting Joel awake.

“Alarm,” the girl called, raising her voice the second time, “Alarm!”

“Thank you,” Y/n called back.

Joel rolled over, barely aware of his surroundings, and switched off the clock. He pushed up on one arm and turned back to his girlfriend, watching him with a smirk.

“What?”

Y/n shook her head, “You must be great in emergencies.”

Joel rubbed at his eyes, “Maybe I’m a little tired because someone wore me out last night.”

“Oh, don’t blame me for this,” Y/n laughed, “A year and a half and I’ve never seen you wake up when your alarm goes off. Not once.”

Joel looked down at her, squinting from the sunlight, a small smile playing on his lips, “Maybe I hear it, but there’s a more compellin’ reason to ignore it.”

He slipped back down into the sheets, resting his head once again on Y/n’s chest.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Y/n began to shimmy out of his arms, “We gotta get up.”

Joel tightened his hold around her torso, “My birthday, I make the rules.”

“No, it’s your birthday and Sarah and I make the rules,” Y/n corrected. Joel had never been one for celebrating the day, meaning it was up to Sarah and Y/n to make the day special, “What you want actually ranks very low on the list.”

Joel was paying very little attention to his girlfriend’s words, trailing a line of kisses up the chest of his t-shirt she was wearing and across her neck. “Five minutes,” he mumbled against her skin.

“No,” Y/n denied, her pulse speeding up the further his lips travelled.

“Yes,” Joel ignored her protests, making his way up to where her jawline met her ear.

“No,” Y/n laughed, her words not lining up with her reaction as she ran a hand over Joel’s hair.

“Say it again, honey,” Joel whispered against her ear, “And mean it.”

Y/n was teetering on the edge of letting him take what he wanted, but her loyalty to Joel’s daughter won out. “Sarah’s cooking you breakfast,” she said, slipping her hand between their chests, “And I’m not gonna be the one to tell her that her dad missed out on her efforts because he was horny.”

Joel snorted, dropping his head and laughing against Y/n’s chest.

Y/n pulled his face up to hers and laid a kiss on his lips, “Happy Birthday.”

“Just another reminder I’m gettin’ old,” Joel grumbled.

“True,” Y/n smiled, taking his scratchy cheeks into her palms, “But you’re my old man.”

Joel chortled, running his hands over Y/n’s body one last time before reluctantly rolling off of her. Their day had to begin, whether he wanted it to or not…

The two got dressed for work, while Y/n hadn’t officially moved in with the Millers, it was her second home. She kept practically one of everything in Joel’s room because of how often she slept over.

Y/n was the first of them down the stairs, landing in the kitchen where Sarah was already laying strips of bacon in a pan, “Can you take this so I can get the eggs?”

“You got it,” Y/n responded, switching places with the girl.

Sarah opened the fridge doors, getting a whiff of the inside, “When was the last time we cleaned this out?”

“Uh, two weeks ago, I think,” Y/n replied.

“Well, something died in it recently,” Sarah stated, grabbing a bowl to whisk the eggs in.

Sarah and Y/n’s relationship had stayed as steady as her and Joel’s. She’d expected some sort of pushback eventually, Sarah had just hit the teenage years, but it had yet to come. Y/n theorized it was because the young girl was just happy to have a woman in her life, but she felt like that was giving herself too much credit.

With the protein cooking on the stove, Sarah started searching through the cabinets. Joel had just come downstairs, still buckling his belt.

“Where’s the pancake mix?” Sarah asked her dad.

Still groggy, Joel scrunched his brows. “Oh, I was-” he’d forgotten the trip to the store he was supposed to take the night before, “Yeah, I was. Sorry.”

“I was gonna make you birthday pancakes,” his daughter complained, marching to the fridge and muttering to herself, “I swear…”

Joel ignored the smell of the food cooking and headed straight for the coffee pot, “You know, I don’t really like pancakes.”

“I know you don’t,” Sarah replied, pouring a glass of orange juice, “It was for my and Y/n’s benefit.”

“We’ll survive,” Y/n said, working on the eggs while Sarah was away, “Though pancakes are a weird thing to not like.”

Joel bristled at his girlfriend’s remark, turning around and facing Sarah with the glass of juice extended towards him.

“Vitamin C,” she explained.

For as much as Joel took care of his daughter, the roles were beginning to shift the older they both got. Sarah could spot his bad habits and tried to fix them wherever she could, the biggest one being his lack of actual nutrition. The man existed on coffee.

Joel took the glass from her, setting his mug down and humoring Sarah with a sip.

Y/n chuckled as she watched his expression turn sour, “Look more enthusiastic. I dare you.”

Joel grimaced, proceeding to pick up the coffee as soon as Sarah was back at the stove.

“You get your, uh, homework done?” Joel asked Sarah, waiting for her smile when she turned around, “Fractions?”

Sarah laughed, it was fact not only that she was ahead of her classmates, but Y/n was her tutor when it came to math. Joel wanted nothing to do with the subject.

Y/n and Sarah plated the feast and the three of them sat down at the table, as they did most mornings. Between Y/n and Joel’s work schedules and Sarah’s extracurriculars, it was the only guaranteed time they had each day to spend together.

“How old are you again?” Sarah asked her dad.

“Thirty-six,” Joel answered with a mouthful of egg.

“Gonna have to start wearing diapers soon,” Sarah joked, her tone remaining remarkably even.

”Who says I don’t already?” Joel replied, it wasn’t hard to track where Sarah’d gotten her humor from. He proceeded to pick something out of his teeth, looking to his daughter, “Shell.”

“Calcium,” she said, grinning wide with a mouthful of eggs on display.

“Lovely,” Joel muttered, looking over at Y/n as she laughed, “You’re encouragin’ bad table manners.”

Y/n shrugged and held her coffee mug to her lips, ”I see it as supporting a potential future as a comedian.”

The truck engine in the driveway signaled that Tommy was there to pick his brother and Y/n up for the day.

“Is there enough for Uncle Tommy?” Joel asked Sarah.

“There would’ve been,” Sarah grumbled into her plate, still bitter about the lack of pancakes.

“I can whip him up something, if we’ve got time,” Y/n offered.

Joel shook his head, “Nah, we gotta get going.”

Tommy entered through the garage door, the most carefree of them all. “Ay,” he clasped Joel’s shoulder, “You’re still alive, you old fucker.”

“Language,” Y/n chastised, she’d been trying for months to curb Tommy’s soldier’s mouth around Sarah. It wasn’t working.

“Aw,” Sarah cooed to Joel, “He loves you.”

“He’s dependent on me,” Joel watched his brother begin to raid his kitchen, “Not the same.”

Sarah shrugged, “I think it’s the same.”

“It’s definitely the same,” Tommy said, examining the countertops for food, “I thought we was havin’ pancakes.”

“The age started to take his memory last night,” Y/n’s tone turned serious as she pressed a hand to Joel’s bicep, “We’re meeting him where he is.”

Joel’s smirk contradicted the glare he shot his girlfriend, letting her hand stay on his arm through the teasing. “We’ll pick you up somethin’ on the road,” he addressed Tommy, “Concrete guys gonna be there?”

“Yeah, they said maybe,” Tommy replied as he opened up the fridge.

“‘Maybe?’” Joel echoed, “We can’t frame until we pour. We’re not gettin’ paid until we frame.”

Tommy started sniffing through various leftovers, “Well, we could bring someone else on, get the job done faster.”

“No, no,” Joel shook his head and cut up another bite of eggs, “I’m not splittin’ this job, I barely wanna split it with you. We could work a double.”

Sarah and Y/n both turned to him.

“Literally?” Sarah asked, “Today?”

“Joel, come on,” Y/n agreed, “Not today.”

“I know,” Joel was quick to remedy the moment, “I’d be done by nine,” he called to Tommy, “By nine, right?”

Sarah gazed across the table to Y/n, the two of them sharing a disbelieving look.

“I’ll bring back a cake,” Joel looked between the girls, “I promise.”

Y/n sighed, holding her coffee cup to her chest. Joel had been pulling double shifts more and more recently. She’d been meaning to talk to him about it, how she and Sarah had been missing him, but she was in no position to stop him from working. Money was tight and contract work was never a sure thing.

A news broadcast broke up the top 40 station Sarah had turned the radio on to while cooking. “Continued disturbances in Jakarta…” the voice announced, the clinking of silverware against plates breaking it up, “But are advising U.S. citizens-“

“Jakarta?” Joel repeated, “Where is that? Middle East?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Tommy shook his head, holding a coffee cup, “It’s definitely a country. Or maybe a part of Asia?”

Y/n smiled and tilted her head at Sarah, who was already prepared to answer.

“Jakarta isn’t a country,” she interjected, “Being a part of Asia isn’t mutually exclusive with being a country and in fact, it’s the capital of Indonesia.”

“That’s my girl,” Y/n said proudly.

“Shit,” Tommy grinned, “Hope for us yet.”

Joel took a final sip of his coffee before slapping his hand against his bare wrist, still expecting his broken watch to be there. He, instead, dug into his pocket checked the time on his cell phone.

“All right,” he announced to his daughter, collecting his and Y/n’s plates, “Finish up quick. We’ll drop you off.”

“I’m still eating my eggshells,” Sarah said.

“You got seven minutes,” Joel replied, dumping the dishes in the sink for later.

“Your t-shirt’s inside out.”

Joel looked down, deflated at the trip he now had to make back upstairs, “Shit.”

Sarah waited till he was out of the room and cocked a suspicious eyebrow at Y/n.

“Pop that thing down, missy,” Y/n pointed downwards, “Your dad just pays shockingly little attention for someone who works with power tools.”

Tommy smiled over the wings he’d taken for himself, “He’s losin’ it.”

Y/n laughed and nudged Sarah’s leg, “C’mon, finish up.”

Sarah scooped the last bite of egg into her mouth and handed her plate to Y/n, who brushed past Tommy on her way to the sink. She reversed a few steps to get a whiff of the chicken.

“Found the smell,” she called out to Sarah, patting Tommy’s shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Stomach of steel,” he replied, setting his plate on the edge of the sink and planting a kiss on Y/n’s cheek. The two of them had become as good as siblings.

Y/n climbed up the stairs and down the hall to Joel’s room. He emerged just as she approached, brushing his hand across her hip as they passed one another. As much as they both loved pouring out the fullness of their affection, the casual intimacies were their favorites.

Grabbing her keys and wallet off Joel’s dresser, Y/n peeked out the window and waited till she saw Joel outside with Tommy. “Sarah,” she called down the hall.

Sarah tiptoed her way in, just to be safe, “Good?”

“Yep,” Y/n nodded.

Sarah found the assigned drawer, digging through Joel’s possessions to pull out his broken watch. She’d developed the plan to fix it as a birthday present last month and had gotten Y/n in on it.

“You’ve got the money?” Sarah checked.

Y/n flipped through the bills in her wallet, “Should be enough.”

Sarah thumbed through Joel’s cash and pulled out a few extra, smiling mischievously, “Now we can be sure.”

“Sarah! Y/n!” Joel called from the truck, Tommy was honking the horn.

Slipping the watch into her backpack, Sarah and Y/n quickly left the bedroom and headed down the stairs. Y/n hung back to make sure the coffee pot and stove were off before exiting out the front door. From the porch, she could see Sarah was in conversation with Mr. Adler next door. Or rather, dodging conversation.

“Make ‘em happy,” Joel encouraged, passing Y/n to grab another load of tools.

“I could come by after school, but just for like, a little bit,” Sarah offered.

“She’ll take what you got,” Mr. Adler replied as he fed his elderly mother-in-law, “Y’all can bake or whatever. Speakin’ of,” the man held up a plate, “We got a lotta extra here, y’all want some biscuits?”

“Dad,” Sarah masterfully tossed the ball to Joel, “You love biscuits.”

“I do,” Joel replied cheerily, “But Y/n’s got me on Atkins.”

Y/n snorted, watching the exchange go down from the bed of the truck.

“On what now?” Mr. Adler asked.

“It’s uh-“ Joel stopped himself, “You know, we gotta run but Sarah’ll be by later. She’ll stay as long as you want,” he smiled genuinely to his neighbors and smugly to his daughter, “Tell you all about Atkins.”

“Great, I’ll let Connie know,” Mr. Adler called back as Joel took Y/n’s hand and led her around the truck, “Hey, Y/n, you’re invited too.”

She peeked over the truck’s flatbed, “I’ll be working, but I’ll come grab Sarah on my way home.”

“Thank you,” Sarah smiled at her dad’s girlfriend, glaring at her father himself, “Solid.”

Joel held the door open for them, smirking at Y/n. “Thirty minutes, then you can rescue her,” he instructed.

“I never suggested Atkins,” she replied, sliding into the backseat beside Sarah.

“Can’t tell you how exciting it was listenin’ to that fuckin’ conversation,” Tommy commented, his speech molding around the cigarette between his lips.

“Put that out,” Joel said, a second before Y/n could form the same words.

Tommy flicked the smoke out onto the driveway, “Happy birthday to you.”

The truck pulled out into the cul-de-sac, carrying each of them off to their separate days.

Once Sarah had been dropped off at school and Y/n at the hardware store, Joel and Tommy headed across town to their construction site.

“Y’all got plans for tonight?” Tommy asked as they rode.

“If I don’t bring a cake home, they’re gonna string me up,” Joel answered, “Other than that, nothin’.”

His brother chuckled, “Least they gang up on you together. I got a buddy who just brought his girl home, his kid can’t stand her.”

Joel wasn’t an idiot, he knew how lucky he was that his girlfriend and daughter got along. No, they did better than just get along. They were practically inseparable. He’d take as much shit as they could give him, so long as they did it together.

“When’re you gonna marry that girl?”

It wasn’t the first time Tommy had asked that question. It had been increasing in frequency over the last few months. After they’d passed their one year anniversary, it became a thought consuming more and more space in Joel’s mind. It had taken enough time to sort out his thoughts and fears on the subject of going into marriage again, but it had been something that week that had settled him on the matter.

Monday night, Y/n had dropped by after her shift to help Sarah with homework. Joel had been at work, but when he got home, he expected to see them waiting for him at the kitchen table. Finding only silence, he climbed the stairs and peeked into Sarah’s room. Y/n was sitting against the headboard of Sarah’s bed, the young girl tucked into her shoulder, the math homework spread across their laps.

In the seemingly meaningless display of affection, Joel saw so much more. He saw the rest of his life. He could finally give Sarah a crucial piece of happiness that she’d been deprived of. He could have the love he’d craved and denied himself for so many years. The three of them, a family.

He was going to ask Y/n to marry him that weekend.

“I was gonna head to that place in the mall tomorrow morning,” Joel replied, his fingers rubbing together in anticipation. The last few weeks of working double shifts would pay off if he could find the perfect ring.

“Oh, shit,” Tommy grinned, “You’re actually doin’ it.”

“No reason to wait,” he said, staring ahead as if he could see his bright future.

“Think she’ll say yes?” Tommy asked, practically bleeding from the daggers Joel shot at him. He heartily laughed, “You get Sarah’s blessin’?”

A small smile stretched across Joel’s lips, “I know I already got it. But yeah, I’m gonna show her the ring, ask her officially.”

“Girl’s not gonna say no,” Tommy replied, making a turn onto the street the construction site was on, “She’s as crazy about her as you are.”

Joel couldn’t see any reason why Sarah would reject Y/n, she liked her better than she did Joel half the time. But he’d still never make such a big decision without consulting his daughter.

“You fucker,” Tommy chuckled, smacking Joel’s chest, “Won the damn lottery.”

Joel smiled out the window, he knew it too.

——————

Y/n’s day went by as slow as possible. She kept moving around the hardware store, helping employee and customer alike with anything they needed. All she needed was to stay busy until 3PM when she’d clock out an hour early, pick Sarah up at the house and they’d head downtown to the watch repair shop.

She absentmindedly spinning down one of the aisles, passing Melinda, one of her co-workers.

“Head outta the clouds, kid,” she chuckled.

“I’m on the ground,” Y/n replied, doing another twirl, “I just need this fucking day to end.”

Melinda went back to hanging inventory, “You and Joel got big plans tonight?”

“I was gonna grill us up some steaks,” she shrugged, “Cake. He’ll get squirmy if Sarah and I spoil him too much.”

“I got a question,” Melinda rested her arm on a shelf, “And if it’s too personal, you tell me. I won’t care, but you can tell me.”

Y/n giggled, “Okay.”

“Are you two ever gonna get married?”

Y/n’s movements came to a stop in the middle of the aisle. She’d been thinking more and more about what it might look like to marry Joel. It wasn’t like she was daydreaming about meaningless details like what dress she’d wear or what color roses would serve as centerpieces. She thought about waking up in Joel’s arms every morning, cooking breakfast for Sarah, being there for every moment, big or small. That was what she cared about.

Joel had eventually opened up to her about his ex-wife and what her abandonment had done to both him and Sarah. Y/n knew it was a scar that was as healed as it could be. She would never rush Joel into making a decision about their future, but she’d have been lying if she’d said she didn’t want to eventually wear his ring on her finger.

“I’m not sure,” she answered honestly.

“Well, he needs to lock you down,” Melinda pointed towards Y/n with a hammer, “My cousin, came in last week, got one look at you, he’s been asking me for your number all week.”

Y/n laughed, “Ring or no ring, I’m locked down. This is it for me.”

The women turned their attention down the aisle to a man, taking sloppy steps down the aisle. It was barely two in the afternoon, a little early to already be drunk, but Texas took the rules of happy hour very loosely.

Melinda groaned, “Ugh, you want me to take him?”

“No, I got it,” Y/n put on her cheery voice and walked up to the customer, “Can I help you find any-“

The man spun to face her, snarling, and took a swing at Y/n. She jumped back just in time.

“What the f-“

Growling, he charged towards her again, this time using her shock against her and tackling her to the floor. Y/n screamed, shoving her hands against his chest in an effort to push him off of her.

“Fuck!” Melinda yelled, pulling at the guy’s legs, “Help! We need help!”

Y/n stared into the man’s eyes, they were glazed over entirely, filled with pure, animalistic rage. He snarled and bit at the air before wrapping his hand around her neck. She used all her strength to push him away, her breath stuck in her throat. He lunged to burrow his face where his hand lay, Y/n couldn’t get him off her, but she kept him from getting any closer.

The manager, Don, sprinted down the aisle with a few other guys and pulled the attacker off of Y/n. The man fought back, growling and clawing relentlessly at her. One of the employees dropped him on the ground and sat on him, ensuring he didn’t go anywhere.

Y/n scrambled to her feet, Don came to embrace her.

“You okay?”

She was fighting to catch her breath, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I’m callin’ the police,” Melinda announced, rushing off to the phone at the front desk.

“What happened?” Don asked, moving to hold Y/n’s arms.

“I-I don’t know,” she ran a hand through her hair, “He came down the aisle and just lunged at me. I-I just offered to help him.”

With the man still fighting to break out of his hold, making sounds that made him seem possessed, Don pulled Y/n out of the aisle.

“I’m sorry, Don,” Y/n apologized, her voice still trembling.

“You got nothin’ to be sorry for, sweetheart,” he quickly shook his head, “Men gotta learn they can’t go gettin’ rough on a woman just cause they’ve had a bad day.”

The police arrived within ten minutes, running down the aisle and cuffing the monstrous man. Y/n stayed far away from her attacker as he was dragged out of the store, residing between Melinda and Don. She’d been asked if she wanted to press charges, but she declined. She just wanted the whole thing to be over.

“Take off now,” Don offered after the officers left.

“No, I-I’m okay,” Y/n smoothed her apron down with shaking hands.

“Don’t even try,” Don shook his head, “Get on out of here.”

Y/n took the first breath she could actually feel, wasting no time in dashing back to the break room and grabbing her purse out of her locker. She wanted to be as far away from anything about the afternoon as she could. Plus, it would mean she could pick Sarah up straight from school instead of the Adlers.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Y/n bid her co-workers farewell on the way out.

Don rasied a hand alongside Melinda, “See ya tomorrow. Wish Joel a happy birthday from us!”

The mention of his name got a smile out of Y/n, “I will.”

With Joel and Tommy having dropped her off, she had to call a cab to take her back to her apartment. She held in her tears until the front door was locked and she knew she was safe.

Why hadn’t she fought back? Fought harder? She was great with her words, but she’d never been able to physically defend herself. In the world they lived in, it was becoming more and more necessary for a woman to be able to throw a punch. Y/n felt weak for not fighting for her safety with the ferocity that Joel or Tommy would have. It just wasn’t in her nature to be violent, even if her own life was on the line.

She managed to collect herself, drying her tears and heading back down to her car. She was determined to put the incident behind her and not let it ruin her day.

Y/n parked directly outside the front of the school so Sarah couldn’t miss her. She waited against the car door, tapping her heel against the asphalt until a barrage of kids came pouring out of the building. Sarah clocked her just before she headed for the bus.

“I thought you were picking me up at home,” she called across the street.

“My shift ended early,” Y/n explained, excluding the reason why.

Sarah opened the passenger side door and jumped in, “Can we grab ice cream or something after?”

“Nice try,” Y/n started up her car, “I’m dropping you off at the Adler’s after this.”

Sarah let her head fall against her seat, with a small groan.

“Half an hour and then there’ll be some big birthday emergency,” Y/n offered, turning onto the next street over, “Seatbelt.”

It was these small domestic moments that showed just how good of a parent Y/n would make. She still didn’t believe she was doing anything exceptional, but the smallest acts of care meant the most. Making sure Sarah walked on the inside of the street, making sure she’d eaten enough, helping her with homework…all of that equated to Sarah knowing she had someone else looking out for her.

They made it downtown to the jewelry-clock repair shop within minutes. Their part of Austin was small enough that everything was five minutes away.

The owner at the front counter examined Joel’s watch, “Twenty.”

“That’s it?” Sarah asked, surprised.

“Okay,” the man smiled, “Thirty.”

“My little negotiator,” Y/n looked down at Sarah, smirking, “Let’s stick with twenty.”

“It’s a spring,” he explained as Sarah pulled out the twenty she’d taken from Joel, “I’ll do it right now.”

Y/n put an arm around Sarah’s shoulders and tugged her into her side, the two of them absentmindedly hugging as they glanced around the store. Behind them, a line of police cars followed by a fire truck sped down the street. It pulled Y/n back to an hour before.

“All day, I swear,” a woman emerged from the shop’s back room, switching between speaking in English and Arabic, “We’re closing.”

“It’s 3:15,” the owner responded, “We close at 7.”

The woman anxiously stood at the window, staring down the street. She lapsed back into Arabic as she addressed her partner, before putting her hands on Y/n and Sarah’s arms, “I’m very sorry, he cannot finish.”

“I already finished,” the man replied, holding out the boxed watch to his wife.

She pressed the box into Y/n’s hands, “You should go home.”

“W-wait,” Y/n stuttered as the woman rushed them out of the shop, “Wh-“

“Go home,” the woman urged, staring into Y/n’s eyes with a desperation a child could never understand.

She shut the door on Y/n and Sarah, flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ after and pulling the blinds.

“That was weird,” Sarah muttered.

“Yeah,” Y/n watched as the woman continued shutting the blinds in the windows.

Successful in their quest, Y/n and Sarah loaded themselves back in the car and headed home. On the way, they passed four more police cars and one more fire engine. Austin had its fair share of crime, especially downtown, but this was out of the ordinary.

“What do you think’s going on?” Sarah asked at one point.

“No idea,” Y/n answered, pulling them into the driveway of Joel’s home and unbuckling, “I’ll check the news. Go be a good person.”

“I’m timing you,” Sarah said firmly.

Y/n smiled, “Go.”

Sarah dragged herself and her backpack out of the car and trudged across the Adler’s lawn. Y/n watched her lovingly, she had the biggest heart of anyone she knew, it was just butting heads with teenage hormones.

Y/n let herself into the Miller’s house, her body relaxing as soon as the door shut. She kicked off her sneakers and headed for the living room, switching on the television. She changed the channel to the local news station, expecting to see a fire or mass shooting. All the anchors said was that there had been reports of heightened violence throughout the day and that citizens should avoid going downtown. That lined up with what Y/n had experienced at the store, apparently the city of Austin was acting like a collective asshole.

Satisfied, Y/n busied herself with laundry and taking care of the dishes from breakfast until she scanned the clock, seeing it was ten past the time she said she’d pick Sarah up at.

She went outside, crossed the shared lawn and knocked on the Adler’s front door. Connie was the one to open it.

“Well, there she is,” the woman exclaimed, “Come in!”

They entered into the hallway, which smelled like cookies and mothballs, and Y/n spotted Sarah sitting in the kitchen, bag packed and a barely concealed frown on her face.

“I’m sendin’ you two home with some cookies,” Connie said, bustling around the kitchen for a Ziploc, “They’re raisin.”

“Oh, yay,” Y/n feigned excitement, following her in and stroking a hand across Sarah’s hair, “Those’re Joel’s favorite.”

Sarah fought the laugh caught in her throat, Joel would’ve rather died than touch anything with raisins in it.

Connie handed Y/n the bag and took her other hand, “You tell him happy birthday from us.”

“We will,” Y/n smiled before they headed down the hall and to the door.

“Wait,” Sarah mumbled just as they were walking out. She stopped to see Mercy, the Adler’s dog, whining at Nana Adler, seated in her chair as usual.

“Dogs are super tuned into their owners,” Y/n explained, “Some studies suggest that they can sense if their person’s in pain.”

Sarah hummed and accepted the answer, exiting out the front door with Y/n. “You were late,” she stated.

“I was doing your laundry,” Y/n replied, dipping her hand along Sarah’s through a lawn sprinkler, “So I’d say we’re even.”

The sun was just setting, a warm pink taking over the sky as night’s opening act. Kids, home from school, were playfully screaming a few houses down. Everything felt perfectly in place.

An overhead thundering encroached on the peaceful scene, drawing Sarah and Y/n’s attention skyward. Three fighter jets in formation blew over their heads, flying in the general direction of downtown.

“Air Force base isn’t too far from here,” Y/n commented, it was the only explanation that made sense.

Sarah didn’t seem too concerned, cutting ahead across the lawn and up to the front porch.

Inside, Y/n busied herself with cooking dinner while Sarah sat at the table finishing up homework. The steaks she’d bought a few days prior had gone bad, and she was searching the fridge for anything she could turn into something special.

Pressing her forehead to the appliance’s cool steel, she admitted defeat.

“You know Dad’s not picky,” Sarah tried to comfort her.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to do something nice for him,” Y/n replied, kicking her foot lightly against the fridge, “But I suppose ordering Chinese is just as special.”

“We could always run by the store,” Sarah suggested.

“Mm-mm,” Y/n shook her head, digging through the takeout menu drawer, “No one’s going anywhere while there’s all those cops on the road.”

They ended up ordering enough for themselves, Joel and Tommy, if he decided to stay for dinner. As the night went on, the food grew cold, and by eight o’clock, Y/n and Sarah grew too hungry to wait and sat on the couch with their cartons.

“If he’s home by nine,” Sarah thought the next part of her sentence over carefully, “I’ll give you a whole week off of helping me with my homework.”

“Doesn’t feel like much of a win,” Y/n shrugged, picking at another piece of orange chicken. They were coming up with bets for when they thought Joel would actually return home, “I don’t mind being on homework duty.”

“Okay, fine, um…” Sarah continued drafting, snapping her chopsticks together, “I’ll do the dishes for a week. Every load.”

Y/n waved a chopstick at the girl, “Done. But if he’s home past nine, I will…get him to learn one of the Halican Drops’ songs,” she tilted her head, “That’s a win for you and will definitely cost me.”

Sarah laughed, “Deal.”

They spent the evening talking and watching tv, the later hours eventually tiring them. Sarah leaned up against Y/n, lost in a magazine while Y/n read a book she’d left on the coffee table. The television played lightly in the background, though they’d stopped paying attention long ago.

Eventually, five after ten, a pair of keys jingled in the front door lock, signaling Sarah had won the bet.

“You locked the door this time,” Joel said, addressing his daughter, “Good job.”

“Yeah,” Sarah switched off the tv and sat up, “Y/n reminded me.”

Y/n scooted over to give Joel a spot on the couch, he flopped down on the cushions, digging his palms into his eyes.

“It’s 10,” Sarah said what they were all thinking.

“I know,” Joel groaned, pulling back up to take off his boots, “They…gave us the wrong size for the headers,” he looked over his girlfriend to Sarah, “That doesn’t mean anything to you, barely means anything to Y/n. I’m sorry.”

Y/n’s fingers walked across Joel’s leg, “And dessert would be…?”

Joel slumped forward, “Shit.”

“Come on, man,” Sarah bemoaned.

“I’ll get us one tomorrow,” Joel promised for the second time that day.

“Swear,” Sarah replied, “Or you don’t get your present.”

Joel turned, brightening up adorably fast. “You got me a present?”

“Swear,” Sarah continued.

Y/n smiled, eyeing her boyfriend with the same loving frustration as Sarah.

“On my life,” Joel swore.

Deeming it an acceptable answer, Sarah rotated and dug behind a pillow. Joel slid his hand over Y/n’s, flattening it down against his knee.

Sarah presented the box, holding it out to her dad.

“Wow,” Joel said, making a theatrical face before opening it. He hadn’t expected what was inside.

“Fixed it for you,” Sarah beamed with reserved pride.

Joel ran a thumb over the watch and held it to his ear, furrowing his brows, “Did you?”

“What?” Sarah reached for his hand.

“I don’t hear anything,” Joel continued.

“It was working four hours ago,” Y/n exclaimed, adjusting herself to sit up and examine it for herself.

The two girls barely had to raise it to their ears before they could hear the strong ticking. Sarah groaned and lightly shoved Joel, who was heartily laughing.

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Screw you, man.”

“That was lame,” Sarah smiled, “You’re lame.”

“Yeah, I know,” Joel chuckled, taking another second to admire his gift, “Where’d you get the money for this?”

“Drugs,” Sarah answered, “I sell hardcore drugs.”

“It’s better than what I do,” Joel slipped the watch onto his wrist.

“It was only $20, which I stole from you.”

“Which I had,” Y/n interjected, “If you’d have given me two seconds...”

“I could have stolen $60, but I put the change back,” Sarah defended herself against Joel’s parental stare, “Because I’m an honest thief. Besides, it’s the thought that counts. And you were never gonna do it for yourself, so…”

Joel, never one to be selfish, looked on lovingly at his daughter and co-conspirator, before turning his head downward. “Thank you.”

Sarah smiled, looking to Y/n victoriously. “Oh, there’s one more,” she dug behind the pillow once again and retrieved a DVD case, “Borrowed it from the Adlers.”

Joel wasted no time in taking it from her, it was Curtis and Viper, the guiltiest of all guilty pleasure movies. “Oh, this is the one with the deleted scenes.”

“Yeah, imagine how bad those have to be,” Sarah commented, “Come on, pop it in, while it’s still your birthday.”

Y/n got up alongside Joel, “I’ll go heat up dinner and brace myself for the cinematic masterpiece I’m about to experience.”

“I showed it to you a while back,” Joel called out to her, “Remember?”

“I remember,” Y/n swung into the kitchen, “And yet I’m still with you.”

Joel smirked to himself, setting the disc in the tray and jogging off to join Y/n. “Chinese?”

“There was going to be something home cooked,” Y/n scooped some food onto a plate for Joel, “But the grocery gods were conspiring against me.”

“Kidding? This is great,” Joel replied, coming to hold Y/n’s hips and move around the kitchen with her. He settled his chin against her head, “Thank you. For all of it.”

Y/n leaned back into Joel’s chest, “I don’t see how crappy Chinese food and aiding your daughter in thievery deserves thanks but,” she twisted her neck to plant a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll take it.”

Joel absentmindedly ran his hands up Y/n’s arms, gazing down at her skin. His eyes drifted to her exposed neck, the glow of the microwave illuminating a purple splotch across her throat.

“What’s this?”

Y/n was watching the timer, “Hm?”

Joel pulled back the rest of her hair and lightly ran a finger over the skin, “Where’d you get this?”

Y/n pulled away, confusedly grabbing a spatchula out of a drawer and relfecting it back on her. Sure enough, there was a large purple bruise developing where the psycho in the hardware store had choked her.

“Hm,” Y/n thought, she hadn’t intended to ruin the levity of the night, “Uh, are we sure you didn’t put that there?”

Joel bristled at the idea, even at his most passionate, he wasn’t rough like that, “I’d never do this to you.”

Y/n sighed, pressing the ‘stop’ button on the microwave before it could beep. She pulled Joel’s food out, set it down and leaned up against the counter.

“A guy attacked me today at work,” she said softly, not wanting Sarah to hear.

Joel’s eyebrows raised two inches, his voice got low, “What?”

“He came down the aisle and just,” Y/n gestured suddenly to herself, “Tackled me to the ground. It took three of the guys, plus Don just to get him off of me.”

Joel surged forward, hovering his hand over Y/n’s neck and examining her, “How bad is it?”

“I’m okay,” Y/n gently took Joel’s hand, bringing it down to his side, “Headache from smacking my head on the floor, little sore, but fine.”

“Please tell me you called the police and pressed charges” Joel asked, fully in protector mode.

Y/n shook her head, “I didn’t wanna drag it out, I just wanted the whole thing to be over. The cops took him, they can deal with it.”

Joel braced himself against the counter to Y/n’s side, halfway-caging her in. “And you weren’t gonna tell me about it?”

“It’s your birthday,” Y/n smiled softly up at her boyfriend, “I just wanted to come home and have a normal evening with you guys. Forget it ever happened.”

Anger swelled in Joel’s stomach for whatever freak had gone after her, but his gaze stayed soft. Her pain was his pain.

“Wanna know what the worst part was?” Y/n asked, looping a finger through Joel’s and smiling sadly, “I could have fought back…but I just laid there. I tried to push him off but…”

There was no need for her to finish the sentence. Joel’s mind flashed back to the night they’d met, when that creep had laid his hand on her and she hadn’t fought back. It was one of his deepest worries, that one day someone would come at her and he wouldn’t be there to protect her.

“Can you please,” he begged, “Enroll in a self-defense class?”

“Yes,” Y/n agreed, saying whatever she could to get the night to return to normal, “I think there’s one down at the community center.”

Joel’s shoulders rose and fell with his sigh, cupping the back of her neck and drawing her into his body. She wrapped her arms around his middle, digging her face into his pec.

“I hate the world sometimes,” Joel said over her shoulder.

Y/n scoffed, “You and me both, bucko.”

They stood in each other’s arms a moment, letting the stress of the day melt away.

“Your daughter’s waiting,” Y/n smiled into Joel’s chest, “And she’s been waiting all night.”

Joel broke from her, stroking a thumb over her cheek. He was looking forward to revealing the reason for his late night hours.

With dinner in hand, Joel and Y/n headed back into the living room, where Sarah was waiting with the remote. Joel settled down in the middle of the couch, giving him room to be surrounded by his two favorite people.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he warned, as Sarah snuggled into his shoulder.

“‘Course I won’t,” she said, “It’s too riveting.”

“I make no such promises,” Y/n replied, hanging one of her legs on Joel’s knee.

Both of them were out cold within an hour.

Joel couldn’t complain even if he tried. With Sarah passed out on his leg Y/n tucked under his arm, it was the happiest he’d been the whole day.

While watching the movie, Joel’s mind kept spinning around proposal ideas. If he got the ring in the morning, he could do it that night. Or did he need to spend more time, crafting some elaborate idea involving doves and roses and all the movie shit? Y/n wasn’t fancy, she probably wouldn’t care if that was missing. All he cared about was that she said ‘yes’ and that the ring was something she could cherish the rest of their lives.

Joel gazed down at his daughter and soon-to-be fiancé, fast asleep on him. A lifetime of that was a thought he could get used to…

The vibration of his cell phone broke Joel out of his daydream. He reached forward, trying not to wake either girl, bur Y/n stirred enough to come to.

“Sorry,” he whispered, picking up the call, “Hello?”

“Joel, it’s me,” Tommy’s voice cut through, Y/n’s head was close enough to hear the call, “Uh, I’m okay.”

“Yeah?” Joel asked.

“But I’m in jail.”

Y/n sat up groggily as Joel arched back into the couch, rubbing his eyes in stress.

“Wasn’t my fault this time,” Tommy was quick to defend himself, “I was at the bar, some guy goes crazy, starts swingin’ at waitresses, I stepped in, knocked him out, cops showed up-”

Joel and Y/n shared an exhausted look, both from true tiredness and Tommy.

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Tommy hurried, “You gotta bail me out.”

“Now?” Joel hissed.

“It’s Friday,” Tommy said, “You don’t get me out, I’m in here all weekend. It’s a fuckin’ madhouse, Joel. I gotta get out.”

Y/n rubbed the sleep out of her eye, and lowered her voice, “I’ll go get him.”

Joel’s hand shot out across Y/n’s legs, “No,” he switched conversations, “Well, which jail. Travis County?”

“Yeah, on 10th,” his little brother answered.

“Damn it, Tommy,” Joel shook his head.

Tommy took a breath, “I’m sorry…please.”

Joel waited before answering, “Okay,” he hung up his cell, “Fuckin’ idiot.”

“Joel, just let me go,” Y/n offered, gesturing to Sarah using his leg as a pillow, “You got him last time.”

“I don’t want you out this late,” Joel shot down the idea a second time, “Especially in that part of town. I’ll be back, hour tops.”

Carefully, Joel eased Sarah off of him and lifted her into his arms. He carried her upstairs to bed while Y/n stayed on the couch, trying to get her bearings.

Joel came back downstairs, grumbling to himself as he collected his wallet and keys.

“We do all this,” Y/n gestured to the empty dinner plate and gift box, “And Tommy’s still gotta one up us.”

“Yeah, well,” Joel muttered, throwing his cell phone in his pocket, “I shoulda just left him in there.”

Y/n looked up amusedly at her boyfriend, “Yeah, like you’d ever do that.”

Joel’s instinct was to protect, he couldn’t have left his brother to rot for the weekend if he tried.

Y/n got to her feet and slid a hand up Joel’s chest, bringing his restlessness to a halt. She wrapped her other hand around the base of his neck, rubbing at the permanently tense muscles.

“Happy Birthday to you,” she sleepily smiled.

Joel leaned forward to connect his lips to Y/n’s. In an ideal world, he’d carry her upstairs and they’d fall asleep in each other’s arms. But after rescuing Tommy, they’d have the whole weekend for that. Still, he poured as much love as he could into his kiss.

Neither of them knew it would be the last one they shared.

“Be safe,” Y/n told him once they broke apart.

“I will,” Joel replied, heading for the front door, “Go to bed. Be back soon.”

Y/n nodded, her eyes following him till he was out of the house. In her stupor, she wasn’t thinking of how packed the streets had been earlier in the day with cop cars. Or how the news had said there’d been increased violence in the city. Or how the story Tommy had recounted sounded eerily similar to hers. She was just tired enough that all that made sense to her was climbing into Joel’s bed and going back to sleep.

Slowly climbing the staircase, Y/n made her way down the hall. She paused outside of Sarah’s room, poking her head in to make sure she was settled. Joel had thrown a blanket over her and she was rolling over. Satisfied, Y/n pushed off of the door frame to leave.

“Mom?”

She froze in her tracks, she’d barely moved out of sight before Sarah had called for…someone. Not her. It couldn’t be her. But who else? She had no memory of her birth mo-

“Mom?”

Y/n’s chest fluttered, it could only be her. She hesitated to answer, “Yeah?”

“Where’s Dad?” Sarah asked, her eyes were still scrunched but she was looking to Y/n’s silhouette.

“He had to run by Uncle Tommy’s,” Y/n answered, saving the full answer for the morning, “He’ll be back soon.”

Sarah seemed to accept the response, nodding a little and settling back into her pillow.

“Goodnight,” Y/n wished, her hands awkwardly fidgeting against her chest.

“Night,” Sarah mumbled.

Slipping against the nearest wall, Y/n’s breath trembled with joy, shock…she couldn’t tell. Sarah had made up her mind as to what Y/n was to her…and what she was was a mother.

Feeling like she was floating, Y/n made her way down the hall to the bed that was as good as her own and slid underneath the sheets. Her smile stretched so wide, she thought her cheeks might split. She couldn’t wait to tell Joel when he got home….

—————————

First came the sirens.

Then came the choppers.

Then the car alarms.

And the flares.

Y/n was the first to wake, the sound of helicopter blades and the sensation of the house rattling waking her. She reached over in the dark for Joel and grasped air. The clock read 2:15AM, he’d left at 11.

That was enough to wake Y/n the rest of the way up.

She rolled out of bed and went to the window, peeking through the blinds to see flares being shot into the sky. Though her vision was blurred from sleep, she could see the smoke cloud in the distance. It was coming from downtown.

“Dad?” Sarah called down the hall, “Y/n?”

“In here,” Y/n said, still watching the sky as another round of helicopters flew over their neighborhood.

Sarah came through the door, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Y/n answered, her stomach twisting in confusion, “Go check if your dad’s downstairs.”

Sarah left, calling for Joel as she descended the staircase. “He’s not here,” she yelled up.

Y/n’s chest sank, anxiety beginning to creep its way up her throat. Was this some kind of invasion? It had barely been two years since 9/11, was something of that scale happening in their backyard?

“Y/n!”

The urgency in Sarah’s voice got Y/n moving out the bedroom and down the stairs as quick as she could. “What is it?”

Sarah had switched on the tv, the emergency broadcast signal was on every channel, delivering an ominous message to stay indoors and wait for law enforcement.

A thud against the window had Y/n pulling Sarah to her chest, the girl wrapping her hands around Y/n’s wrists. Mercy, the Adler’s dog, had his paws against the window and was trying to get inside.

“Stay here,” Y/n told Sarah, heading to unlock the front door. She crouched down on the porch and the dog leaned against her legs, whining. “Shh, Mercy, shh…”

“Is he okay?” Sarah asked, right behind Y/n.

“I think,” Y/n answered, clueless as Mercy panted furiously under her touch. She looked across the street, finding nothing out of the ordinary visually. Audibly, there were car alarms coming from all directions and the chopper was making another circle around the subdivision. Something felt very, very wrong.

“Stay here,” Y/n told Sarah, “I’m gonna take a look around.”

“No, I’m coming with-“

“No,” Y/n’s tone firmed up, “Take Mercy inside and stay-“

Mercy started barking as if he knew he was being discussed. Y/n knew nothing she said would get Sarah to listen, she was out of options.

“Let’s get him back home,” she said.

Sarah led Mercy by the collar across the lawn and onto the Adler’s driveway. Once he realized he was back at his house, Mercy began to whine and pull away from Sarah.

“C’mon, Mercy, please,” Sarah begged.

Mercy pulled one final time, the collar unclipping and letting him loose. He took off into the night.

“Mercy!” Sarah called, he was too far gone to hear her.

“It’s okay,” Y/n quickly tried to smooth Sarah’s heartbreak over, “We’ll find him. But first, we’re going home and-“

Clanking from inside the Adler’s home drew their attention.

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah called, receiving no answer, she looked to Y/n to decide their next move.

Y/n was torn between following the noise and running back home to call Joel.

“Stay behind me,” she decided, placing herself in front of Sarah as a barricade.

They crept up the Adler’s porch, letting themselves in through the ajar door. The carpet runner was scrunched up, something the meticulous Connie would have never allowed.

“Connie?” Y/n announced their presence.

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah repeated, the two of them frozen in the hallway.

Another loud sound from the kitchen, followed by a distant gunshot and chased by a car alarm.

Y/n tried to inhale steadily, but the trembling came anyway. The long stretches of silence broken up by what sounded like war were creating a steady pit of fear in her chest.

She reached backwards, pulling Sarah closer to her body. The girl was already holding onto Y/n’s hips. They took soft steps through the hall and to the kitchen.

“Con-“ Y/n held on to the room divider as she stumbled, looking down to see the slippery substance across the floor.

Blood.

Sarah and Y/n’s breaths caught in their chests as their eyes followed the trail of crimson through the kitchen…to Mr. Adler, laid against the cabinets.

“Help me,” he whispered, a particularly gory wound to his neck oozing blood down his body.

Y/n moved to help him but was yanked back by Sarah, who already had eyes on the next terror.

Nana Adler was hung over her daughter, her face burrowed into her neck.

Y/n eased Sarah back, making no sudden movements, as the elderly woman slowly looked up to them. There were strands of something springing from her mouth, it was something out of a horror movie.

Nana rose to her feet, her movements choppy and careless, and Sarah wrapped her arms around Y/n’s torso.

The woman, animalistic, shrieked and ran towards them.

Y/n shoved Sarah back towards the door, racing out of the house and onto the lawn. She was pulling the girl toward their house when the roar of a pickup truck came barreling down the street.

Tommy’s truck.

Tommy pulled the truck up onto the curb, Joel jumped out before it had even stopped.

“GET IN THE TRUCK,” he yelled at Y/n and Sarah, “RIGHT NOW!”

With Sarah in her hands, Joel grabbed Y/n and pulled them to the vehicle, “Move!”

Nana Adler came screaming out of the house, Y/n and the Millers watching the bones in her body violently crack under her skin before she fell to the ground. They waited in anticipation until she startled back to life with a gasp, stumbling to her feet and charging towards the family.

“What are we doin’, Joel?” Tommy yelled, his rifle pointed at the grandmother.

Y/n wrapped Sarah in her arms, shielding her body from any harm, but not her eyes.

Joel wasted no time in making the decision, it was either her, or the women he loved. He slashed the wrench he was clutching into Nana’s head, the life leaving her as she dropped.

After, he turned to Y/n and Sarah, their tearful eyes widened in horror. He rushed to them, bending to cup Sarah’s cheek.

“You killed her,” the girl said, unable to form a deeper thought.

Joel pulled his daughter and partner into his arms, “Baby, I’m sorry.”

“Joel, we gotta go,” Tommy warned.

“Joel,” Y/n shook, “What’s going on?”

“Listen to me,” he looked to both his girls, “It’s not just the Adlers,” he took Sarah’s cheeks into his hands, “But we’re gonna be brave, and we’re gonna get out of this.”

A flash of green to their left and Joel was covering them with his arms. The transformer at the end of the block had exploded.

“Hey,” Tommy rounded the truck, “Let’s go. C’mon!”

Joel and Y/n hurried Sarah in front of them, “Get in.”

Y/n stopped before joining her, gripping Joel’s arm, “Joel…”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, posessing no more answers than she did, “I don’t know.”

Y/n dove into the truck, pulling Sarah into her arms the minute she was seated.

Joel slammed the door shut, his neighbor calling his name out in concern.

“Denise, you get back inside the house,” he yelled, “You lock your doors! Now!”

“C’mon, c’mon, get in,” Tommy urged.

The second Joel’s door shut, Tommy was already pulling them around the cul-de-sac. As he rounded the turn, Mr. and Mrs. Adler came across their lawn and into the street, in the same possessed state as Nana had been.

“Get your seatbelt on,” Joel told Tommy.

“Hold on,” his brother said, accelerating the engine and ramming into the Adlers head on.

Y/n tried to pull Sarah’s head into her shoulder, but the girl was too quick, already looking out the back to see Mrs. Adler on her feet.

“You take 70-“ Joel began to give directions.

“71,” Tommy finished, “I know.”

A line of police cars blew down the opposite lane, speeding towards more chaos they didn’t even understand.

Sarah’s breath had steadied enough where she could speak clearly, “Daddy-“

“We don’t know,” Joel cut her off.

“They’re saying it’s a virus,” Tommy explained, “Some kinda parasite.”

“What parasite does that?” Y/n asked, knowing none of them had an answer.

“Is it from terrorists?” Sarah asked, her voice getting watery.

“We don’t know,” Joel repeated himself, watching his brother as he drove.

“A-are we sick?” Sarah’s panic was growing.

“No, we’re not sick,” Y/n answered immediately.

Joel fiddled with the radio, getting static back in return.

“Why did things blow up?” Sarah asked.

“No cellphone, no radio,” Tommy mused, “Minute ago, newsman wouldn’t shut up.”

“They were broadcasting emergency signals on the tv,” Y/n recalled, as if it made any difference now.

“How do you know?” Sarah kept up her questioning.

“What?” Joel acknowledged her.

Sarah couldn’t hide her tears any more, “How do you know we’re not sick?”

Y/n stroked her hair, offering what little comfort she could while also sharing Sarah’s terror.

“They’re sayin’ it’s mostly people in the city,” Tommy explained, “That’s why they got the highway blocked off.”

Joel craned his head to meet Y/n’s eyes, “This what happened at the store today?”

“Yeah,” Y/n answered, flashing back to 12 hours before. Her attacker hadn’t had the strange strands hanging from his mouth, but he’d had the same animal-like rage.

The car fell silent again as they passed a house, the whole structure consumed by flames.

“It’s Jimmy’s place,” Tommy said as they drove by.

“The Adlers would take Nana into the city,” Sarah continued to try and solve the puzzle, “To the hospital for stuff.”

“That’s right,” Joel agreed, “They would. That’s probably why.”

“But…” Sarah’s brain worked double time, “You’d have to go a lot…right?”

Tommy shook his head slightly, “We’re fine, trust me.”

Through the dashboard mirror, Y/n’s worried eyes met Tommy’s. He was saying a prayer rather than stating a promise.

On the side of the road, a car was pulled over, a family standing outside it waving their hands wildly. “Here! Right here!”

Tommy began to slow down, drawing Joel’s confusion. “What’re you doin’?”

“They got a kid, Joel,” Tommy gestured to the family.

“So do we,” Joel said firmly, “Keep drivin’.”

The father panicked as Tommy followed orders, screaming for them to stop.

“We could put them in the back,” Sarah offered just as they passed them by.

Y/n’s heart sank as the father’s cries echoed in her ears, her eyes drifting to the back of Joel’s head.

“Somebody else’ll come along,” he said to the car, but mostly to himself.

Sarah, trying so hard to remain calm, let her tears fall silently. Whatever shred of reality they could make of the chaos around them was starting to sink in on Y/n too. She pulled Sarah deeper into her arms, feeling the girl’s sadness land on her skin.

Tommy sped down the lane, trying to get on the freeway, and meeting the sea of likeminded cars.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed, “Everyone had the same fuckin’ idea.

Panicked drivers were speeding towards them, the little white lines on the asphalt ceasing to matter.

“I can’t get through this,” Tommy said, dodging the cars.

“All right, all right,” Joel tried to remain calm, “Let’s think it through, we’ll think it through.”

“Tommy!” Y/n cried as another reckless driver nearly clipped them.

“All right, take the field,” Joel directed, “We’ll cut across and pick up on the-the west side.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tommy’s breath shook, “West, west, all right. All right, hang on.”

Sarah held onto Y/n a little tighter, bracing herself as Tommy went off road into the tall grass. The truck dipped and bounced with the land, until they met smooth dirt…giving them a view of the freeway. The military had already set up shop.

“Shit,” Tommy exclaimed, “Fuckin’ army!”

“Isn’t that good?” Sarah asked

“It’s good for them” Tommy said, “But that’s the highway we’re tryin’ to get to.”

Joel’s brain was spinning with roads, “All right, keep movin’. Head north.”

“Could be a lot of people,” Tommy pointed out.

“Well, we can’t go south, we can’t go east, we can’t go west,” Joel replied, “Hell else we supposed to go?”

Tommy hesitated, his hands nervously gripping the wheel.

“Tommy, come on,” Joel yelled, his own anxiety beginning to show itself.

Listening, Tommy turned the truck north, leading them towards the distant light of a small town.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know that place,” Joel said, “This can work.”

“Joel,” Y/n spoke up, “What then? Where are we going?”

He didn’t know, he barely could remember the numbers of the highways. All he knew was he needed to get his family to some sort of safety. “I don’t know, Mexico,” he blurted out, “Just far, far as we can,” he looked to his brother, “How much gas?”

“Three quarter tank,” Tommy answered, it was enough to make it to the border.

“Go through town,” Joel began to list off directions, “Golf course by the river, straight across, we pick up the highway on the other side of the blockade…” he exhaled, “Then we’re out.”

“Maybe it’s everywhere,” Sarah theorized, trying so desperately to make sense of what was happening, “Maybe there’s nowhere to go.”

Joel and Yn’s worried eyes met in the dashboard mirror, they were both wondering the same thing. Illnesses didn’t stay quarantined to just one city in one state, they spread like vines, reaching for any life they could. What if this parasite worked the same way?

A loud roar began to encroach on the truck from above.

“What the fuck?” Tommy exclaimed.

Sarah and Y/n shielded their ears from the noise, looking up through the roof’s glass top to catch a low-flying plane directly above them. There were a line of three more trailing the sky behind them.

“Shit,” Y/n whispered, her facade for Sarah was fading.

Down the road, the red white and blue lights of a police car became a stumbling block. “Son of a bitch,” Tommy complained, “Gotta go around. Grab somethin’!”

Joel reached an arm back, both to brace himself against Tommy’s seat and give Y/n something to hold onto. Sarah held fast to Y/n as Tommy made a hard right down the next street. The town they’d turned into had descended fully into chaos, its residents running wildly through the streets, either screaming for help or attacking one other.

“All right,” Joel talked his brother through the roads, “Keep goin’, keep goin’,” he looked to his left to see a truck barreling towards them, “Shit, Tommy!”

The tire screech had Y/n flipping Sarah’s body over hers, making herself a human shield. Thankfully, the crash never came.

The next street Tommy turned them down was even worse. People were beating each other senselessly in the street, the screams of the wounded piercing their ears.

“Tommy, you can’t stop here,” Joel said as his brother slowed the car.

He gestured to the crowds, “I can’t drive through ‘em.”

“Are you serious?” Joel yelled, “Just keep goin’!”

Up ahead, an explosion shattered the windows of a building, eliciting every person inside to run for their lives, all headed towards the truck.

“Go, go, go,” Joel urged, smacking the dashboard a little harder with each utterance, “Back, back, back, back, back, back, back!”

“I’m tryin’!” Tommy yelled back.

Y/n caught the faces of people as they ran past, the terror, the confusion in their eyes. One woman had blood streaming down her chest, the deep red turning her white blouse deathly crimson.

“Tommy, go faster,” Joel berated, “We gotta go!”

“I’m tryin’, there’s nowhere to fuckin’ go,” Tommy said, maneuvering them backwards.

“Tommy,” Y/n couldn’t stay quiet, “Fuck, anywhere!”

“Find an alley!” Joel added.

“What alley?! There’s people everywhere!”

“Roll the fuck over them,” Joel ordered, “We gotta get off this street.”

Sarah had shifted out of Y/n’s arms and was staring out the back, watching as the humanity was sucked out of her city. In the sky, she could spot bright, blinking lights headed straight for them.

She blindly reached for Y/n’s hand, “Dad?!”

Y/n and Joel both turned, their eyes falling on the same sight. One of the planes was headed straight towards them.

“Fuck,” Y/n uttered breathlessly.

“Move…” Joel managed to say, “Move!”

The plane completed its nosedive into the road behind them, exploding in a fiery inferno. Joel reached back to grab hold of Sarah, Y/n shoved her down into her lap.

None of them saw the piece of debris heading for the truck.

—————————

Joel was the first one to wake up. He struggled out of his seatbelt, dropping to the roof of the flipped truck and looking into the back.

Y/n and Sarah were out cold.

Sarah’s leg was elevated, her foot caught in some part of the truck. Y/n lay in a terrifyingly still ball.

“Sarah…Sarah…” Joel weakly called, tugging on her free leg and startling her awake, “Stay right there. Don’t move,” he looked to Y/n, “Y/n, wake up.”

No response.

“Rosebud,” Joel urged, his voice betraying him and turning to a whine, “Honey, get up.”

“Y/n,” Sarah disobeyed her father, fear-stricken, and stretched her arm out to shake Y/n.

Y/n gasped, waking up the same way she’d passed out; panicked.

“Joel,” she cried out, “Sarah?”

“We’re here,” Joel reassured her, a hand to her arm, “We’re here. Tommy? You okay?”

Tommy grunted, trying to free himself, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

With a pounding headache, and the feeling of air hitting small cuts across her face, Y/n struggled to her knees. Nothing felt broken inside her, just weak.

Sarah’s breathing began to pick up, turning her body to stare out the busted window. Twenty feet away, someone was heaving over a body, draining it of blood the same way Nana Adler had.

“Sarah,” Joel moved to the back of the truck, “Don’t look. You look at me or Y/n, okay?”

Y/n was at Joel’s side instantly, gently holding Sarah’s calf so he could free her leg. The girl winced as Joel worked.

“I’m sorry, baby, I know, I know,” he apologized profusely, letting her leg drop into Y/n’s hands.

“Come here,” he urged his daughter, “Put your arms around me. Come here, come here,” he pulled Sarah into his embrace, “I got you.”

Y/n was crawling past, into the driver’s half of the truck, “Tommy?”

Tommy was already out, kneeling down at the window, “Come on, take my hand!”

Straining to reach him, Y/n slapped her palms against his and he dragged her out. She could feel the glass scrape against her skin, trying to hold her cries in for Sarah’s sake.

Tommy and Y/n pulled each other to their feet, Tommy reaching for his rifle after. Joel and Sarah had made it out on the other side. Y/n rushed around the wreckage of the truck to reach them, grabbing them both, “What’s wrong?”

“My ankle,” Sarah strained.

“We gotta get off the street,” Tommy urged, a fast approaching siren sending him diving for the asphalt, “Shit!”

A police van slammed into their truck, creating a fire between the two vehicles. Joel and Y/n shielded Sarah from the flames, “Tommy?”

Y/n wrapped her arms around Sarah, trying to take some of the weight off her ankle and freeing Joel.

“Tommy!” Joel screamed again.

Separated by the two totaled bodies, the brothers found each other.

“Head to the river,” Tommy shouted, “I’ll find a way!”

Joel hesitated to leave his brother behind, regardless of his competency.

“Get ‘em out of here,” Tommy insisted, “Go, Joel!”

It was the mention of Y/n and Sarah that snapped him back, he immediately turned and bent down to Sarah’s eye level.

“We can’t leave him,” she argued.

“Joel-“ Y/n began.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, “Can you both run?”

“No,” Sarah said as Y/n nodded.

Joel bent over and swung his daughter into his arms.

“You keep your eyes on us,” Joel half demanded, half begged Sarah, “Okay?”

“Okay,” she breathed.

“And don’t look anywhere else,” he finished, his panicked gaze moving to Y/n, “Don’t let go.”

Y/n locked one arm around Joel’s shoulders, the other under Sarah’s legs, needing one hand on them both.

The three of them rushed through the street, lost as to how to get to the river. Joel stopped in fear when they found a grouping of bodies, groaning, writhing, devouring one another on the ground. He guided Sarah’s head back into his body, but she’d already seen too much.

One of the monsters popped up, eerily fast.

Y/n and Joel’s hearts collectively stopped, anxiety kick starting them to run for the back door of a building. They dove inside, Y/n running ahead to bang on the locked door.

“Move,” Joel cried, kicking down the wood and pulling them through it, “Get ahead!”

Y/n jumped in front of them, racing down the length of the diner. She could hear the frantic footsteps and growls of the monster chasing them.

Slamming her body into the second door, Y/n cleared the path for Joel, the two of them sprinting away from the encroaching death nipping at their heels. The monster snarled as it came after them, too quick for Y/n or Joel even at their fastest-

BANG!

A shotgun fire silenced the animalistic sounds, Joel spun around to see the creature laid out in the grass, blood spilling from its head.

“It’s okay, baby,” he assured Sarah, “You’re safe.”

Y/n’s hands dropped to Joel’s arm, resting her head against his shoulder in an effort to catch her breath.

“C’mon,” Joel urged, turning around for the way of the river.

A searchlight hit them.

“Don’t move,” a stern voice commanded, through the light, Y/n and Joel could make out it was a soldier.

“My daughter’s hurt,” Joel explained, “Her ankle.”

“Stop right there,” the soldier ordered, they’d barely moved in his direction.

Y/n and Sarah both trembled, in shock at the sight of the rifle pointed at them.

“Okay,” Joel backed down, taking them the slightest step back, “Easy now. We’re not sick!”

The soldier reached for his radio, reporting into it, “I got three civilians by the river, one of ‘em injured,” he waited for a response, “Ankle.”

“What about Uncle Tommy?” Sarah looked up to Joel.

“We’re gonna get you somewhere safe first,” Joel panted, “Then we’ll go back for him, okay?”

“Okay,” Sarah accepted.

Y/n rubbed a hand over Sarah’s uninjured leg. The horror still had yet to be named, but they were so close to asylum from it.

An impatient Joel took a step forward, earning another up and close look at the rifle’s barrel.

“Hey,” the soldier shouted, “No one told you to move.”

Y/n trembled against Joel’s arm as they waited, why was it taking so long?

“Yes sir,” the soldier said into his radio, his voice having shifted and making Y/n and Joel’s stomachs tighten.

The gun came back up.

“We’re not sick,” Joel echoed, knowing what was about to happen.

“W-w-wait,” Y/n’s lips began to shake, she held out a hand to the soldier, “We’re not sick.”

“Sir,” Joel urged again, his voice rising with every second of silence, “We are not sic-“

Bullets rained down on the three of them, the force of the lead sending them rolling down the hill.

Joel pushed himself off his stomach, a harsh light on him drawing him onto his back. The soldier was mere inches from him, his rifle trained on Joel’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, he almost sounded genuine.

“Please don’t,” Joel begged, raising his hands.

Y/n had rolled farther than Joel, already weak from the crash and now with a pain radiating in her side. One of the bullets had definitely grazed her. She was able to push up onto her arms, dragging her gaze across the dirt and spotting the position her boyfriend was in.

“JOEL!”

The soldier was thrown forward, a bullet from behind lodging in his chest. Joel looked up to see Tommy, marching forward with his rifle still trained on the dead soldier.

Joel hurried to sit up, running a hand his side, a bullet had scraped across the skin.

Y/n let out a breath as she watched Joel move, her eyes scanning around her for Sarah.

“Oh, God,” Tommy breathed.

Frantic breaths could be heard, closest to Y/n and furthest from Joel.

Y/n froze at the sight.

Then she was rising, racing to the spot.

Joel was right behind her. “No…” he mumbled, “Oh, no.”

Y/n made it to Sarah first, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes ran over her body. Her attempts at breath were wracking through her violently.

“No, no, no,” Joel shushed his daughter, pressing a hand to her neck, “Okay, you’re okay. You’re okay, move your hand, baby.”

“Sarah, move your hand,” Y/n rubbed the girl’s cheek, “We gotta take a look, babe.”

Sarah let her hand drop to her side, revealing the blood that covered her entire lower abdomen.

Joel felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Y/n felt her entire body lock up.

Joel was the first to move, slipping an arm under Sarah’s shoulders. She let out the most heartbreaking cry, pain flooding her body as she reached to push her father away.

“I know, baby, I know,” Joel agreed, “I know, I know, I know. I know it hurts.”

Sarah’s breaths came quicker, groans accompanying them as she strained to take in air.

“Eyes on me,” Y/n urged, taking her face into both palms and rubbing her thumbs across the skin, “Don’t look down. Look at me.”

Sarah struggled to move her lips, barely pressing them together and humming. She was trying to say something.

“Shh, shh,” Y/n tried to keep her calm, “It’s okay.”

“Come on, baby,” Joel soothed as he examined her wound, “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Another wave of unbearable pain hit Sarah as Joel pressed down on her wound, trying to slow the bleeding.

“I know, I know, I know,” the panic finally reached Joel’s voice, “I know, baby. I know, I know. I know this hurts. You’re gonna be okay.”

Sarah’s breaths grew ragged.

“You’re okay,” Y/n fought back the relentless tears, keeping her hands on Sarah’s cheeks, “You’re okay. I promise. You’re okay.”

“All right, baby, baby, baby,” Joel tried to talk over and in between Sarah’s noises, “Listen to me, I gotta get you up, okay?”

Sarah shook her head, her eyes widened with terror she couldn’t physically put into words.

“Babe, we have to get you up, okay?” Y/n continued, “It’s gonna hurt like hell for a second, but it’ll be alright.”

“All right,” Joel couldn’t wait any longer, “You come on.”

Y/n moved around to help lift Sarah’s back, her and Joel working as a team to raise her. Sarah groaned and wept as they shifted her body.

“I know, baby,” Joel was on the verge of tears as Sarah strained to help herself up, gripping his neck. “I know, I know, I know,” his voice rose in fear, “I know, I know, I know.”

Joel turned to where he’d left his brother, “Tommy, help me!”

Tommy didn’t move, “Joel…”

Sarah’s body stopped shaking under Y/n’s hands, her chest went still.

“Sarah,” Y/n begged, “C’mon, babe.”

“C’mon, baby girl,” Joel whimpered, moving frantically to loop an arm around her, “I gotta get you up. Come on. Come on, we’ll get up.”

Rising on her knees, Y/n hung her head over Sarah’s. The girl’s eyes were blank, her lips were parted.

“Come on,” Joel sobbed, his pleas dropping off as reality began to invade his blind hope, “Come…please…”

It was too late.

Joel took Sarah fully into his arms, wrapping around her so tight, he thought he might be able to physically put her back together.

Any air Y/n still had in her chest left her body, her hands resting in midair as if she was still holding the child.

She crawled to Joel, covered in blood, rocking Sarah’s body and sobbing breathlessly over her shoulder.

It was real.

“Sa-“ Y/n whispered, tears starting to flood down her cheeks. Her voice dropped to a whimper, “Sarah.”

If the universe could grieve a human being, it was Sarah Miller’s passing that brought it to tears. No part of the Earth would be spared from the chaos that had claimed her. No corner of the planet would ever bloom and flourish as it had when she was alive. When she ascended, she took humanity and all of its beauty with her.

And the souls of the two people cradling her corpse, screaming into the night, went with her.

——————

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest @burninggracesandbridges @star-wars-lover @lucyhotchner @cococola-cocaine @witheringhqarts @fall-writes @alwaysdjarin @xxmoonn @emilia-the-artist @wand-erer5 @boneyarrd @lizard-zombie @itwasallinmyhead1 @cassidylea123 @paleepeaches @mxltifxnd0m @kettlekatie @ultimate-cinephile @gloryekaterina @caramelkatsukis-bitch @whovianayesha @memeorydotcom @deadunicorn159 @get0ut0fmyr00m @siriuslymooned @emmyeed @superbreadsoul @hellu-people1 @ourautumn86 @inas-thing @noraapple05 @givemylovetoall @luvwanda (tags continued in comments)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fic #twenty years later

[wheresarizona]

September Part 4

Jackson House of Worship, 2024

summary: Joel Miller didn’t get a chance to marry you twenty years ago, and now that you’re back together, he’s not wasting any more time—especially after you both bared your souls the night before, revealing your darkest secrets to make your bond unbreakable.

rating: Explicit (18+! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (10 years), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, dirty talk, praise kink (Joel gets called a good boy), spit mention, spanking, Joel should’ve stuck to missionary, flashback to the first meeting, handwavey medical jargon, mention of period typical sexism, emotions, tons of banter, LOTS of fluff, wedding, Ellie taking her best man duties seriously, Ellie’s handkersleeves, sweet Joel & Ellie father-daughter moments, Tommy being a little shit, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, dancing with Joel, Joel playing guitar, angst with a happy ending, confessions, emotional hurt/comfort, talk of pregnancy loss (stillbirth), talk of child loss, grief/mourning, talk of suicide attempt (Joel), TLOU tv/game spoilers)

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader (reader is a doctor with no physical descriptions)

word count: 24.8k+ (This is who I am.)

a/n: I apologize for the delay in getting this done—March was not great for me. A lot of people wanted Joel to find out about the baby, and oh boy, does he. This chapter is emotional; you’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll feel all warm and fuzzy, you’ll swoon, and you’ll have a good time. Shoutout to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for being by my side through this whole thing. This is unbeta'd all mistakes are my own.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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July 2002 - Austin, Texas

The clinic wasn’t your first pick for where you wanted to do your residency to become a doctor; it wasn’t even your fifteenth choice. You applied to fifty programs across the entire country, hoping for a bustling hospital in a big city or a large clinic somewhere you could have the opportunity to explore different specialties—pediatrics calling to you, but also interested in internal medicine and surgery. And yet, out of fifty applications, the place that accepted you was a family medicine clinic in Austin, Texas.

But what had you expected? You weren’t a prime candidate due to being a lot younger than others fresh out of medical school, and the real nail in the coffin is you’re a woman; gender bias in the medical field is absolutely astounding.

So, here you are in this clinic with its beige walls and oak wood accents, sitting at a desk reading over the chart of a patient the attending physician said would be easy enough for you to handle on your own, with it only being your second week in the program.

The patient is Joel Miller, a thirty-four-year-old male complaining of knee pain. This is his follow-up appointment after he had scans done the previous week, and your job is to go over the treatment plan the physician has already decided on.

Your nose crinkles at the other doctor’s notes, seeing he isn’t offering a long-term solution but instead is basically shoving a band-aid over a gaping wound that will progressively get worse over time. That wouldn’t do; already figuring out better options in your mind that would have lasting effects and offer relief—that’s something that drew you to medicine in the first place, always having to solve puzzles, making your brain work to help people and save lives.

You’re interrupted by Janis, the nurse who you’re pretty sure hates you, though you don’t know why glaring as she lets you know the patient is ready to see you. Maybe she’s just one of those people with resting bitch face, and you shouldn’t take it personally, except she’s so cold towards you. There isn’t anything you can do about it. Shrugging it off as you get up from your chair, your white coat on and stethoscope hanging around your neck, making your way to room four with the chart in hand.

There are many facts you know about the man you’re seeing: his name, age, occupation, vitals, what the inside of both his knees look like—knocking softly on the door twice, you enter, closing it behind you for privacy—those details hadn’t prepared you for what he looks like. When your eyes land on him sitting on the edge of the exam table, you pause, struck by how handsome he is—brown waves of hair, big chocolate-colored eyes, plush lips, ridiculously broad shoulders that have the navy blue t-shirt he’s wearing hugging his chest sinfully.

You gulp, mentally berating yourself for finding a patient attractive, reminding yourself you’re here to do a job to help him feel better, quickly regaining your composure and offering your name.

“...I’ll be your doctor today,” you tell him.

His eyes round, mouth falling open before he catches himself and closes it, seeing that gorgeous throat of his work as he swallows.

You need to stop noticing his attractiveness—he’s a patient.

“Doctor…?” he asks slowly, with a drawl you’re becoming familiar with.

The surprise is clear on his face, which is something you’re used to, the walls rising inside you, readying yourself for a fight because either he’s going to be okay with you taking care of him, or he’ll be a dick and demand another, older, male, doctor—which has happened multiple times this week and is why you’ve only treated a dozen or so patients.

Your chin rises as you reply with a nod, “Yes. I’ll be handling your care.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just I can’t believe you’re a doctor.”

Your eyebrow quirks.

“Because I’m a woman? Young?”

He shakes his head as he speaks, “‘Cause you’re so beautiful.”

That’s an unexpected response that has you so taken aback that your breath hitches, trying to control the butterflies that are wildly fluttering around in your tummy.

His eyes get big, realizing what he said, quickly backtracking, flush staining his cheeks as he looks away. “I am so sorry, ma’am,” he says. “It’s rude of me to be commentin’ on your looks when you’re just doin’ your job. You probably think I’m some creep.”

This poor man is beating himself up about saying the nicest thing anyone’s said to you all week.

“I don’t think you’re a creep,” you reassure him. His eyes meet yours, him gauging if what you’re saying is true, so you smile. “You’re honestly very sweet. A lot of people have a hard time getting over my age or that I’m a female in a male-dominated profession, so you thinking I’m too beautiful is a lovely change and also wonderful for my self-esteem.” You laugh.

His lips curl up.

“Well, I’m happy you’re not kickin’ me out. You bein’ a young woman doesn’t bother me—wish my daughter was here so she could see that if she wanted, she could be like you one day.”

The sincerity of his words has your chest going tight. In med school, a doctor told your class to let the patient ramble at the start of the appointment for five minutes because you’ll learn quite a lot about them. Usually, it’s things about their lifestyle or what’s actually causing them issues. What you now know about Joel Miller is that he’s respectful, a sweetheart, and a caring father—you’re fucked, realizing your eyes are drifting to his left hand, happy that you don’t see a ring.

Not that it means anything to you. He’s your patient. You need to focus.

“How old is your daughter?” you ask.

That’s a safe question. It’s important to build rapport and trust, plus you’re genuinely curious and want to know more about him to ensure you give him the best care—at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself.

He visibly brightens, and it’s adorable.

“She’s twelve, turnin’ thirteen Saturday after next. Her name’s Sarah and I can’t believe how quickly she’s growin’—feels like just yesterday she was havin’ me check under her bed for monsters.” He has a fond expression on his face.

“Wow, you’re gonna have a teenager. Are you and your wife planning a big party for her?”

There’s no way he’s single, not that it matters to you.

“No wife, or girlfriend, for that matter. Sarah wanted a slumber party with her friends, so I’ll be hidin’ away in my room alone watchin’ a movie or somethin’.”

It shouldn’t excite you to hear he doesn’t have a partner, but there’s a thrill moving through you.

“Sounds like my ideal Saturday night—just relaxing watching tv or a movie.”

“Yeah?” He smiles. “We got somethin’ in common, then.” He scratches at the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. “I, uh, wanna apologize again. You just caught me off guard, is all—was expectin’ Dr. Carlson with his bad combover.” There’s a smirk on his face when he continues, “But you’re a nice surprise.”

“Because I’m easier on the eyes?” you tease.

Don’t flirt with the patient!

“Yes,” he chuckles.

It’s time to focus on your job and not how his eyes twinkle, clearing your throat as you approach him.

“So, Mr. Miller—“

“Please call me Joel,” he interrupts.

You smile.

“Okay, Joel, I was looking over your chart, and you're having pain in both knees?”

“That’s correct.”

Pulling your pen from your pocket, you ask, “Has it gotten worse since last week? Feel any different?”

“No, ma’am.”

You jot down his answer.

“Well, that’s good.” Your eyes land on his. “May I take a look?” you ask, pointing your pen at his lower half.

“Of course.” He nods enthusiastically. “Look, touch, do anythin’ you want to me, I don’t mind.” He grimaces, whispering to himself, “Jesus, I’m embarrassin’.”

You can’t help the giggle that slips past your lips.

“You’re okay, Joel,” you say, putting away your pen and moving to set the chart down on the nearby counter opposite the exam table to wash your hands in the sink.

He lets out a long sigh.

“It’s been a while,” he says. “I’ve forgotten how to talk to women.”

“That’s gotta be a problem with fifty-one percent of the population being female,” you reply as you dry off your hands with a paper towel, tossing it in the trash when you’re done.

He snorts, you turning around and seeing the amused look on his face.

“I’ve forgotten how to talk to women I think are pretty.”

“Well, thank goodness we’re having no issue holding a conversation.”

“It’s taking a whole helluva lot of effort with your gorgeous eyes lookin’ at me.”

Heat is crawling up your neck to your face, focusing on getting your bearings back together. Taking a few steps, you’re close with a little bit of space, needing to get the appointment back on track.

“So, I’m going to examine your knees over your jeans. If I need to, can I push them up your legs?” you ask.

“Want me to take them off?” he asks eagerly.

It makes you laugh, him smiling.

“There’s no need for you to strip.”

“You sure?” he asks with a crooked smile.

“Positive,” you answer, winking.

What is wrong with you? You need to stop flirting with him. He’s a patient! You’re the embarrassing one here. It’s like something inside you shifts when you look down at his right knee, going into doctor mode, brain whirling as you gently touch it over his jeans. Joel tenses, a reaction that furrows your eyebrows, meeting his eyes.

“Does it hurt when I touch here?”

There shouldn’t be any pain based on the scans; if there is, you’ll need to have more imagining done.

“No.” He shakes his head.

“Okay. I need you to tell me if anywhere I touch hurts.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Your attention is back on what you’re doing, processing what you’re feeling under your fingertips, having him extend his leg so you can see his range of motion, Joel’s face pinching in pain, which you expected.

“I’m going to push up your jeans.”

“You go right ahead.”

Getting them up to his thigh, Joel shivers when you touch his warm skin.

“Sorry about my hands being cold,” you murmur, pressing into the back of his knee to feel his ligaments and tendons, comparing in your mind to what you saw on the scans with how it feels.

“Your hands are nice—soft,” he replies in a gentle tone.

The doctor-patient relationship is sacred and an essential part of healthcare, built on trust, respect, communication, and common understanding. You swore to follow certain ethical guidelines to ensure that your patient gets the highest level of care. Things might be flirty with Joel and you, but his health is your main priority—it’s your job, and you’re not going to cross a line, even if he’s tempting you like forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden. While he’s your patient, that’s all he’ll be and nothing more. You’re focused, being thorough, and checking for anything that’s out of the ordinary.

“You don’t have to answer,” he says, “I know it’s a personal question, but how old are you..?”

You’re busy working, answering distractedly, “Twenty-four.”

“Jesus,” he gasps. “And you’re already a doctor?”

There’s slight swelling but no tears that you can tell—everything matches the imaging.

“I have the degree,” you say. “This is the first year of my residency—basically, I’m a doctor in training, but I’ve treated people.”

There’s a curious expression on his face when you finally glance at him.

“I’m just thinkin’ about all the schoolin’. Are you a bit… younger?”

Smiling, you answer, “Yes. I did a lot of work to get my degree sooner—basically zero life outside of school for the past six years.”

He looks impressed.

“Christ, smart and beautiful, your boyfriend’s a lucky guy.”

“My boyfriend is non-existent—was too busy with school. Well, no changes in this knee from last week—” You pull his pant leg back down. “—so that’s good. Let me check the other.” You move, immediately pushing up his jeans this time. “Does one hurt worse than the other?” you ask, going through the same exam as you did on the other, checking his motion and behind his knee.

“Uh, nope. Both hurt the same. Sarah says it’s ‘cause I’m old,” he chuckles.

“Has Sarah thought about becoming a doctor?”

As you thought, this knee doesn’t have any changes either.

“No—she wants to be a singer.”

You finish, putting his pants back in place, straightening your spine as you look at him.

“Well, she’s got a knack for medicine—she diagnosed you.”

He frowns.

“The pain is because of my age…?”

“It’s a big contributing factor along with the wear and tear from the work you do.”

He runs a hand through his hair, sighing loudly.

“You must think I’m an old man.”

“I don’t.” You shake your head. “You’re only a little older than me.”

He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Ten years is a lot.”

“Not really.” You shrug. “And you’re in excellent shape aside from your knees, but that’s bound to be an issue with your job.”

There’s a change in how he’s looking at you, and it has you gulping, watching him slide his thumb over his bottom lip like he wants your attention to go there, getting his wish, not able to stop yourself from wondering if his lips are as soft as they look.

“You, uh, think I’m in excellent shape?” His voice has gone deeper, ignoring the simmering heat in your belly.

“Ye-yes,” you stutter. He’s smirking, and you need to get back into safe territory, clearing your throat before you start speaking, “So, let me go over what we’re gonna do to help with the pain.”

From the look on his face, he’s disappointed, which confuses you, not understanding his reaction.

A tired sigh comes from him before he says, “I’m assumin’ medication, then?”

Oh, he thinks you’re going to give him a prescription for pain relief instead of actually treating him. It’s a common issue with doctors who are up to their ears in patients—instead of taking the time to figure out the root of the cause and treat it accordingly, they just write out a prescription to make the patient comfortable, a temporary solution, that has them coming back again, and again. Dr. Carlson’s plan was medication for Joel.

You’re moving to pick up his chart, your eyes scanning over the information, and turning the page, seeing that this is his sixth visit this year, and it’s only July—imaging wasn’t even ordered until last week.

“How long have you been dealing with this pain?” you ask.

“Last couple of years, I started gettin’ achy. Then in, uh, December of last year, there was a big job I was workin’ on—twelve-hour days for almost three weeks straight, and they started hurtin’ real bad.”

Your blood is boiling that he’s had to suffer for so long.

There’s a serious expression on your face when you look at him.

“There are other things we can do that will be long-term. With you being a single dad, the sole provider for Sarah, and working a manual labor job, I don’t think you’ll have time to commit to physical therapy, and I wouldn’t want to take away from your quality time with her.”

He looks surprised before his expression softens.

“What are you thinkin’, Doc?”

You smile warmly, jumping into what you planned that he can do at home, Joel listening intently as you explain each of the things in detail, him nodding along, seeming to like what you’re saying.

“You think it’ll work?” he asks when you finish.

“I do.” You nod. “It’s just keeping up on the exercises—we need to strengthen and stretch those muscles to assist with joint movement, and the other things I suggested will help with the swelling and give you some relief.”

He’s nodding. “I understand—do the exercises. Don’t wanna let you down.”

You pull a small notepad from your jacket pocket, placing it over the chart as you start writing out your treatment instructions, replying, “You shouldn’t be worrying about me.”

“Maybe I wanna worry about you. You’re the first doctor that’s actually cared about helpin’ me. Gonna have to come here more often to see you since you take such great care of me.”

“I’m not your primary physician.” You’re almost finished writing. “You’d end up seeing Dr. Carlson.”

“What if you became my primary doctor?”

Tearing off the page, you hold it out to him, his hand taking it.

There’s something here between you two, a connection you can feel, so you tell him truthfully, “Then all I could and would be is your doctor.”

Understanding dawns on him.

“Oh, is the appointment over?”

“Do you have any other concerns?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then the appointment is over. If you have any other issues or questions, please reach out to Dr. Carlson. It’s been a pleasure helping you today, and if there’s nothing else, you’re more than welcome to leave.”

He gets down from the table, groaning when he stands up straight, folding up your note and putting it in his pocket.

Thinking there’s nothing else he wants to say and not acknowledging the disappointment that feels like a stone in your belly, you make your way toward the door.

“Wait,” he says. You stop, turning around to face him. “I have a question.”

Taking a couple of steps closer to him, you ask, “What’s your question?”

He closes the distance, stopping when he’s taking up your vision, focusing on his big brown eyes, noticing his spicy cologne that has you feeling warm. He scratches at the back of his neck, looking nervous.

“Well,” he starts, “since I’m no longer your patient and you’re not my doctor, I’m not usually this forward, and I know I don’t have a chance in hell, but I’m wonderin’ if you’d wanna give an old guy like me a shot at takin’ you out?”

Happiness thrums in your veins that he asks, unable to help when a laugh sputters from you, quickly covering your mouth, his cheeks going red, looking unsure and embarrassed. You quickly apologize, “Sorry! I’m not laughing at you for asking me out—I want to go out with you.” That makes him perk up, rewarding you with a dimpled grin. “It’s just you said I was the first doctor to actually help you, and you’d rather date me than have me take care of you. It’s sweet but also hilarious.” You’re laughing again.

He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, the other perched on his hip, keeping his weight to one side.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are a lot more doctors out there—sure, I can find another, but I’ve only ever met one you, and I’m not gonna miss my opportunity to get to know you better.”

It feels like your skin is buzzing, so caught off guard by how genuine he is, seeing it in those dark eyes of his.

“How are you single?”

Is there something you’re missing? Some deep dark secret? He seems so perfect and adorable. It makes zero sense that he’s unattached.

There’s a sad smile on his face.

“Not a lot of women are into single dads.”

“That’s a lie—I’m very into single dads.”

He laughs, a beautiful flush crawling up his neck.

“I’m happy to hear that. Can I get your number?” he asks, pulling out a Nokia phone from his pocket and holding it out to you. “I just got this.”

“Of course.”

Taking it, you punch in the numbers, saving them to his contacts before giving it back. He looks at the little screen, hitting some buttons.

“‘Doc’?” he asks amusedly, meeting your eyes. “Why not your name?”

“Can’t take the risk of a handsome guy like you meeting another girl with my name—need to make sure I stand out,” you answer with a wink.

“No other woman is like you. I only want your number.”

“You’re really laying it on thick,” you tease. “I can assure you that you’ve successfully seduced me, and I really want to go out with you.”

He smiles.

“Good. I really wanna go out with you, too. What time are you off?”

“Seven.”

“Can I call you later?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Then I will.”

“I can’t wait.”

The joy is evident on his face, and you know you’re wearing a matching expression.

He holds out his hand as he says, “It’s been a pleasure meetin’ you today, Doc.” Holding his chart with one arm, you shake his offered palm that engulfs your smaller one. “You’re already a mighty fine doctor.” He winks, bringing your hand up to place a soft, chaste kiss on the back of it, his gaze staying on yours. Your skin tingles, and your body feels like it's burning from the inside out as your jaw goes slack.

Your voice is rough when you say, “You are a liar, Joel Miller.”

His eyebrows dip together, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“You said you’d forgotten how to talk to women, and that is not true—not even a little bit. Got me thinking about kissing your stupidly perfect face.”

He crookedly grins.

“Stupidly perfect?”

“Yes,” you groan.

“And you wanna kiss it?”

He gets closer, your bodies practically pressing together.

“Yes.”

His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, leaning into his touch, his eyes moving from your own to your lips, the tension rising, thinking he might go for it and hoping he will.

His voice goes lower, “Then we better go out soon.” He takes a small step back, putting space between you, your heart pounding hard in your chest. “You busy tomorrow night?”

“No,” you breathe.

“Off at the same time?”

“No.” You shake your head. “It’s a half day.”

“Can I pick you up at seven?”

“Yes.” You nod.

He smiles brightly.

“It’s a date. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Okay.”

“Bye, Doc.”

“Bye, Joel.”

He brings your hand up to kiss the back of it one more time and leaves you standing there in a daze, thankful that out of fifty applications across the entire United States, this was the clinic that accepted you, inadvertently introducing you to Joel Miller.

Spring 2024 - Jackson, Wyoming

For a cold night, the house is comfortably warm, the room illuminated in a soft glow by the bedside lamp, the sky outside dark and hidden by the closed blinds—Joel’s on his knees on the bed, your legs resting over his arms keeping them spread with his hands tightly gripping onto your hips, holding your ass up as he fucks into you hard.

The nap had lasted a couple of hours, the front of your body snug against his back, his fingers intertwined with yours over his heart, kissing his bare shoulders when you woke. Water was drunk, some food was eaten from the rations in your pack, and the next thing you knew, Joel’s face was buried between your legs.

Now, he’s grunting as he pounds into you, his thick cock pushing into that one heavenly spot that only he’s been able to find with his eyebrows furrowed and teeth bared—your head is dizzy with pleasure, fire burning so brightly in your belly that it’s going to explode at any second.

You’re gasping moans, your fingers digging into the bedspread, feeling so fucking close to coming, every thrust having the muscles in your stomach winding tighter and tighter.

“Come on, baby,” he says through gritted teeth. “Let me fuckin’ have it—you feel so fuckin’ good. Fuck, wanna feel you come.”

“Close,” you whine. “Oh, fuck.” Your body is starting to writhe, not able to control yourself. “You’re fucking me so good, Joel. Oh, god. Gonna come.”

The slap of his hips echoes in the room, the sound magnified by how wet you are, filling the air with the loud squelch of your cunt mixing with rough sounds coming from Joel’s throat and your breathy noises.

The heat builds in the pit of your stomach, growing hotter and thicker until stars are dancing at the edge of your vision, coming with a shout of his name.

“There it fuckin’ is,” he groans, “My good girl—I fuckin’ love you.”

Your body seizes up, the pleasure starting deep in your center and radiating out through your limbs, feeling it spread to the tips of your fingers and toes, your mind going hazy. Joel slows to a grind, letting you feel every ridge and vein of his throbbing dick, working you through your high.

The orgasm ebbs and your body continues to tremble—opening your eyes to meet his lust-blown gaze, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks.

Smiling dreamily, you answer, “Yeah, babe. Feel fucking amazing. You’ve always known how I like to be fucked.”

“Yeah, I do,” he rasps, slowly thrusting, “and I know you got one more in ya.” He slaps your hip, making you gasp when he pulls out, letting your legs fall to the bed. “Hands and knees, baby,” he says, helping you get into position, your body thrumming in excitement, knowing what’s to come.

Your knees sink into the mattress, hips up, forearms resting against the pillow just how he wants you, looking over your shoulder to watch him grab onto the flesh of your ass, squeezing hard.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this,” he says, spreading open your asscheeks, the bed jostling as he moves. His face gets close, moaning when you feel him spit onto your entrance, the hot saliva mixing with your slick and come, your eyes closing, facing forward once more.

He straightens up, wasting no time to press back inside you in one smooth thrust, gasping at how he stretches you. It was something you’d never tire of, the way he fills you and how your body makes space to have him fitting all nice and snug, sliding perfectly along your sensitive walls.

His hands are grabbing onto your hips, digging in his fingers as he starts moving, soft sounds falling from your lips with each push and pull of his cock inside you. He sets a punishing pace, hearing the dull smack of your bodies colliding and his balls slapping into your clit, him grunting in exertion with how hard he’s slamming into you.

Your head falls forward, pressing it into the cushiony pillow, him turning you into a whimpering, drooling mess at how good it feels, the familiar heat in your core growing, expanding, as he fucks you into the mattress.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he grits out, his hand landing on your asscheek in a resounding smack that has your cunt clenching. “You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

He’s making your ass jiggle and thighs quiver with every hard thrust, whining in reply, “Yes, Joel. So good.”

You have to push back to keep him from fucking you into the headboard, your arms trembling, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your end.

His hand leaves your hip to massage your clit, making you keen, the jolts of electricity ramping you up and setting every nerve in your body ablaze, clawing at the pillow for something to hold onto.

You’re so close—everything he’s doing to you builds you up until you fall over the edge, chanting his name as the waves of euphoria spread through you.

“My good fuckin’ girl,” Joel groans, grabbing your hips once more to fuck you through your climax, going harder to extend it—snapping into you with abandon. It makes your head spin, and feels like the pleasure just keeps going and going—

He comes to a sudden stop with a hiss—pulling out, the bed jostles as he falls onto it beside you on his back. You’re coming down from your high, turning your head to see his chest heaving as he catches his breath with his eyes closed. Reaching over, you pat his flushed, sweaty chest.

“Tire yourself out?” you mumble.

“Yeah,” he pants.

“Shoulda listened to Tommy and stuck to missionary, you old man.”

His head turns a fraction toward you, opening one eye with a grumpy expression on his face, grumbling, “Don’t be fuckin’ mean.” You laugh when he pinches your hip, your body crumpling flat onto the mattress.

“I’m sorry, babe,” you giggle, scooting over to him to throw your arm over his stomach and rest your head over his heart, leaning up to kiss his chin.

“Liar,” he replies.

“I’m not lying,” you say into his skin. “I am a little sorry.”

“Good—did I, uh, tire you out?” he asks.

You snort.

“Need me to get on top and finish you off?”

His cock is still hard and resting on his belly, wetting his skin in your slick.

He lets out a long sigh. “...Yeah.”

“Say no more,” you reply, kissing his stubble.

With a groan, you’re moving to straddle his hips, one hand on his chest to hold yourself up, the other moving to grab his dick to notch him at your opening, him twitching in your palm. It’s a reflex when his big hands land on your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles into your soft skin.

“Fuckin’ love when you’re on top,” he rasps, his glazed-over gaze on yours.

“‘Cause you like watching my tits bounce.”

He’s unable to reply, his mouth falling open as you sink down on him, your eyes fluttering closed at how he feels so much bigger like this, your thighs meeting when you bottom out.

“God, I love your dick,” you moan, both hands on his chest, rolling your hips, adjusting to the fullness.

His voice is strained when he replies, “I know you do—always hungry for my dick.”

“Says the guy who can’t keep his face out of my pussy—fuck,” you gasp, tilting your hips to have him press into something divine.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Gotta make up for lost time.” One of his hands moves to your center, pressing his thumb to your clit it making pleasure spark in your belly. “You wanna come again?” he asks.

Meeting his eyes, you shake your head, “No,” you answer. “I’m spent. Another, and I know I’ll pass the fuck out.”

He smirks. “Nothin’ wrong with that.”

Your eyebrow raises.

“Except that you’d have to get yourself off with your hand—I’m good, babe. It’s your turn.”

“Okay.”

His hand goes back to your hip, your inner walls fluttering around him, starting to move up and down, rising on your knees and falling over and over, his eyes locking on your chest with his jaw slack.

“Fuck,” he groans. “So fuckin’ beautiful. Lean down, baby.”

It makes you grin. Of course, he wants you to lean down.

Your hands move to either side of his head to hold yourself up, riding him in earnest, not surprised when he palms your breasts. His fingers tease your stiff nipples, rolling and pinching them, causing electricity to shiver down your spine, breathily moaning as you work him over, feeling the sheen of sweat coating your skin and your thighs beginning to burn. There’s a beautiful flush covering him, his golden skin glistening in the lamplight, wanting to lick the drops of perspiration along the column of his throat. He feels so good inside of you, his cock moving in and out of you, going at a rhythm he likes, his face screwed up like he’s in pain, knowing he’s getting close with the rough noises he’s making.

“Kiss me,” he pants.

Lowering your face, you hover your lips over his. “Aren’t you needy,” you say between heavy breaths, nudging his nose with your own. “You want me to kiss you?”

“Please,” he croaks out, looking absolutely wrecked.

“My good boy asking so nicely.” He moans loudly, feeling his cock jerk. You give him what he wants, capturing his mouth in a kiss, pressing your lips forcefully to his while you keep rutting against him, his hands squeezing your breasts.

It’s loud between your legs, hearing the wet sounds of you moving on him.

“‘M close,” he murmurs into your lips, making you go harder, your heart pounding in your chest.

It doesn’t take much more for his big hands to finally grab onto your hips, pulling you down all the way to be flush with him, a dirty, low groan spilling from his throat as he comes—his dick twitching, the warmth of his spend filling your inner depths.

You’re wrung out, your head falling into the crook of his neck, panting hot breaths into his skin, Joel sounding just as winded, hugging his arms around you to hold you close.

Minutes you lay wrapped up in each other, your heartbeats slowing together, comfortable, happy, neither of you wanting to move.

Exhaustion is creeping up on you, afraid you’ll fall asleep. Your voice is muffled when you say, “Joel?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m old.”

He swats your ass. “Stop that. You’re not old.”

“Joel, I want to sleep—I’m old,” you sigh. “I’m too tired to fuck.”

He sighs, too, replying, “Fuck, I’m tired, too—bone fuckin’ tired. That doesn’t mean we’re old.”

A memory comes to you. “Remember that one weekend Tommy watched Sarah? You’d been swamped with work the week before, and according to him, you were an absolute asshole because you needed to get laid, so when the job was done, he told you to stay with me all weekend, and we literally fucked the entire time?”

You’d barely left your bed.

“That was a good weekend.” You can hear him smiling.

“It was. We barely slept and fucked like rabbits. Joel, we didn’t even last all of tonight. Face it, babe, we’re old.”

“We just need a good night’s rest, and we could easily go all night.”

“Sure, babe—“ You lightly pat his cheek “—just some sleep, and we can go all night like we’re twenty years younger.”

“That’s what I said, and I know I’m right.”

“You’re cute,” you say, moving to kiss his jaw. “I gotta get up and go to the bathroom—I’ll grab us some water.”

“Mmkay.”

Unwrapping his arms, you carefully got up with a groan, the bed squeaking as you maneuvered off of it.

Your first stop was the en suite to take care of your needs and clean yourself up, relishing in the delicious ache between your legs at being thoroughly fucked. Next was doing the same walk of shame that Joel had taken earlier, not bothering to put on any clothes as you padded down to the first floor to refill your cups, returning with them full of water.

Your eyebrows dip together when you get back into the bedroom, finding Joel in the same spot you left him—his head is cushioned on a pillow, his eyes closed, completely still, seeing his chest's steady rise and fall.

Normally, he would’ve gotten up to clean himself up and use the bathroom.

Did he pass out?

You set the glasses on the bedside table next to him. “Joel?” you whisper. “Did you fall asleep?”

You’re afraid that if you touch him, you might startle him.

“No.” He says the word clearly.

Stepping closer to the bed, you push his messy hair away from his face.

“You just comfortable?” you ask.

“...no.”

Well, the slight pause has alarm bells ringing in your head.

“What do you mean?” You stroke your hand over his cheek. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He lets out a really long breath, finally blinking open his eyes to look at you, a frown on his lips.

“Don’t make fun of me…”

Oh, god, he’s hurt. Immediately you’re looking over his body for any sign of injury, noting that his breaths are even, your fingers moving against his neck to feel the steady thump of his pulse.

“What’s wrong?” you ask again.

“I… can’t move,” he answers, grimacing.

That narrows things down. “Jesus Christ, Joel. Hips or back?”

“Back—pulled somethin’. Fuckin’ hurts to move.”

Your brain is making quick work on how you will treat him, remembering you saw some ice in the freezer.

“Well, at least you didn’t break a hip,” you murmur. “Tommy and Ellie would’ve never let you live it down.”

That grumpy expression comes over his face.

“My hips are fuckin’ fine,” he grouses. “Just gotta lay here for a bit, and I’ll be okay.”

“Um, no,” you reply. “You’re not laying here and suffering.” Grabbing a glass of water, you ask, “First, I need you to drink something. Does it hurt to lift your neck?”

His frown becomes more pronounced, him lifting up as much as he can, and your hand immediately going behind his head to help him up, the other bringing the cup to his lips and tilting it for him to drink. Once he’d drunk the whole thing, he laid back against the pillow again.

“Thank you, baby.” He looks so sad, and it has you putting the glass back onto the table before cupping his cheeks and leaning down to kiss him softly.

Breaking it, you look him in the eyes, smiling. “You’re welcome, and don’t be upset. I believe you said it was sexy that I could treat your sex injuries, and I’ll have you feeling better in no time.”

His eyes are big. “I know you will,” he says softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now, I gotta flip you over to make sure it is a pulled muscle and you didn’t slip a disk or something worse.”

“Okay,” he sighs.

Helping him get onto his stomach involves him making a lot of pained sounds and muttering ‘fuck,’ repeatedly. Luckily, after a quick exam, you confirmed it was just lower back strain.

Earlier in the evening, Tommy had dropped off a bag filled with clothes. Rummaging through it, you found a white t-shirt that was clearly meant for Joel that you put on before going downstairs to grab some ice that you wrapped in a small towel.

When you got back to your injured fiancé, you applied the cold compress to help reduce the pain and swelling.

You’re lying beside him, your hand holding the ice to where his pain is, his head turned toward you.

“I refilled the ice tray,” you say. “We just need to do this every three or four hours over the next couple of days, and you’ll have to take it easy. No strenuous activity.”

“Yes, Doc,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“You wanted to fuck for a couple of days.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” you reassure. “I was dreaming big and did not account for the fact that I am no longer an energetic twenty-something. Honestly, I am so fucking exhausted. I think everything is catching up to me—saving Ellie, finding you, us walking here to Jackson. I want to sleep for days. Then there’s the fact you fucked me so good, I’m gonna need some time to recover—I’m sore.”

“We overdid it.” He lets out a breath.

“We overdid it.” You nodded.

“But it was good..?” He looks hopeful.

You smile. “So fucking good—worth the pain.”

“Yeah?” He smirks.

“Yeah.”

“I reckon it was worth the pain.”

Once his back is iced, he’s able to get up, and you both take a quick shower together, deciding to call it a night. Joel’s protective instincts have him sleeping closest to the door with a gun and knife on the bedside table, you nestled into his left side, your leg hitched up on his thigh, resting your head over his heart, the strong beats so calming that it has you relaxing. There’s no doubt that you’ll sleep more than a few hours—you’re beyond tired and sated, so comfortable and happy that your mind is already beginning to drift. Add in Joel’s fingers sliding along the bare skin over your ribs, the shirt you’re wearing pushed up under your breasts, and you’re in heaven.

It’s the early hours of the morning, the room is dark and quiet, save for your even breaths filling the air.

His voice is gentle and barely above a whisper, “Baby?”

“Hmmm?”

“In the shower, you asked about my scar?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s one below your belly button that I don’t think is from bein’ stabbed. How’d you get it?”

His question has your eyes flying open, the sleepiness now replaced with panic as your mind races and heart pounds, knowing exactly what scar he’s talking about—it’s surgical, a cut made by a scalpel that’d been hurriedly stitched up after the doctor sterilized you.

It’s an easy enough answer to give him since he’s aware you can’t get pregnant. But it feels like a lie; it’s not the whole truth that you’ve buried so deep down inside your conscious because of the pain of remembering.

You’d been adamant about wanting to protect Joel from the anguish of discovering the extent of all he lost twenty years ago. You didn’t see the point in upsetting him and knew without a doubt he’d blame himself. Yet, there’s a part of you that feels he deserves to know, that he needs to know, and that this isn’t something you should have to carry by yourself. He’s the love of your life, the man you’re going to spend whatever days you have left on this earth with, and it feels wrong to keep a secret like this from him. If he found out later, he’d be even more devastated, and you don’t want to betray his trust like that—you don’t want to keep anything from him, like how you hope he doesn’t keep anything from you. You’re partners, you’ve always shared everything, and this is no different.

The resolve hits you that you’re going to tell him the truth, the whole truth.

“We don’t have to talk about it…” he says when you’re silent for too long. “It’s late anyway.” The last word turns into a yawn.

“No, I’ll tell you,” you reply. Moving, you get on top of him, your thighs bracketing his naked hips, leaning over to turn on the lamp. His eyes squint from the light, looking uneasy, your body pressing into his to hover your face over his, holding yourself up on your elbows beside his head, stroking your fingers through his damp grey hair. His arms automatically wrap around your back to rub his hands along your shirt-covered spine.

“I’m not gonna like what you’re about to tell me, am I?” he asks with a frown.

“No, Joel,” you answer softly. “It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, so take a deep breath for me.”

The expression on his face turns serious, clenching his jaw, his hands stopping their movements.

His voice is low, “How’d you get the scar?”

“We’ll get to that in a second. First, I need you to understand that everything that happened to me is not your fault, okay?”

“Just fuckin’ tell me.”

“You tell me first that you understand what I just said.”

“Yes—not my fault,” he says impatiently. “Tell me.”

One of the things they teach you in medical school is how to give a person bad news. There are times when you have to tell someone they’re dying or have an incurable illness; a patient dies in surgery, and you’re having to inform the next of kin. It’s a step-by-step process, starting with finding out the person's understanding of the situation for a place to begin and build upon. Next is the warning shot, which you delivered by telling Joel that what you’re about to tell him is going to hurt. Then you present the news in plain words to avoid any misunderstandings. It’s common for there to be silence, so you wait for them to make the next move and validate any emotional responses. It’s a little fucked up that this is the process you’re going to use to tell him, but it’s the best way to ease him into it and not cause too much emotional distress all at once.

“Good,” you reply. “Remember in the truck when I told you I took measures to ensure I couldn’t have children?”

“Yes. The scar’s from that? Surgery?”

“Yes.”

“Okay… what aren’t you tellin’ me?”

Taking a deep breath, you answer, “The reason I had it done.”

His eyebrows crease together, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“But you said—”

That you had a fellow doctor help you out.

“Yes,” you cut him off, “except after the Outbreak, especially right at the beginning, doctors weren’t doing elective surgeries, and still aren’t with the lack of supplies. They only do sterilization at the time of childbirth or in conjunction with another abdominal surgery.”

“Please, for the love of God, say surgery,” he says desperately, and it makes your chest ache, hating that you’re putting him through this.

Cupping his cheeks, you give another warning shot, saying as gently as possible, “Joel, I’m sorry I have to tell you this, but I was pregnant.”

His eyes go wide. “When?” he breathes, but you can tell he already knows the answer.

“2003.”

He looks like he’s just been punched, his face pinching in pain, squeezing his eyes shut as he absorbs the blow and processes what you said.

There’s a roughness to his voice when he speaks again, hearing the hurt when he whispers, “The baby?”

“Didn’t survive the pregnancy.” Swallowing hard, your eyes are burning at remembering all that’d happened, knowing something was wrong, and discovering the worse when an ultrasound was done. “I, uh, lost her in December of that year. I was a little over five months along.”

The devastation is clear on his face when his gaze meets yours, seeing how hard he’s trying not to cry with the tears brimming his eyes and his bottom lip trembling.

His throat bobs, the word cracking when it leaves his mouth, “Her?”

“Yes.”

“Five months? Five? You were… you were…” He can’t even say the whole sentence. “Before? On my, my… On my birthday?” Tears start falling down his cheeks.

Your throat is so tight that it’s hard to speak, answering morosely, “Yes.” Wiping at the wetness on his face, continuing, “I found out a few days before.” The next part, you say so quietly, “I was going to surprise you—it was your gift.”

You can see his heart break, and it makes your own squeeze so tight it steals your breath. It was the right thing to tell him—he deserved to know, but it comes at such a great cost, feeling terrible that you’re causing him so much distress. A pained noise comes from him as he crushes you in a hug, pressing your face into his neck, his body shaking as he cries hard, giving in to your own sadness.

“I’m so sorry, Joel,” you sob.

He’s in agony. It hurts. The pain is gut-wrenching, the sadness so deep inside of him he can feel it twisting him in knots, his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. It’s like someone is trying to skin him from the inside out. What he’s feeling is unbearable, and he is unsure if he will survive.

Getting stabbed felt better than this. He’d rather get stabbed because that’s something that heals and scars over, but this? It’s a gaping wound that’s going to stick with him just like Sarah’s death had.

There was nothing he’d wanted more than to have a baby with you all those years ago, and now knowing how close he got to his dream—that he lost two daughters without even knowing, he’s at an utter loss, the anguish consuming him, and overflowing into the tears he can’t hold back, letting it all out as he holds you close, needing your comfort.

His body is trembling uncontrollably, wracking with sobs. “We lost our baby,” he chokes out. “Our baby girl—I lost my babies.”

It feels like his chest is caving in, his heart getting crushed under the weight of his sadness, and he’s thankful you’re here with him—you’re keeping him grounded, your presence stopping him from simply checking out, and he’s allowing himself to feel the emotions, and grieve, something he couldn’t do with Sarah.

He can’t even imagine what you went through alone—losing the baby, him, and Sarah. At least he still had Tommy, but you had no one, having to deal with it all by yourself. Joel feels like shit that he wasn’t there for you in your time of need, wondering if he had been, would the baby have survived? Did another of his kids die because he failed to protect them again? Maybe he wasn’t meant to be a father—he’s not supposed to outlive his children, and he has with two of them, fucking delivering the third to people who wanted to take her from him, too, and barely saving her. He’s a failure as a father, unable to keep his kids safe, and now he’s very aware of how much stronger you are than him. After all the loss you went through alone, and you kept going? He’s weak in comparison, a coward; he barely survived—a failure of a father, partner, and human.

Your words are muffled, your tears hot on his skin, “I’m sorry,” you cry. “I did everything I could to give her the best chance, and it wasn’t enough.”

It’s not right that you’re blaming yourself, and he’s so angry at himself that he’s stopped crying, needing to make you understand it wasn’t your fault—if anyone’s to blame, it’s him.

He pulls you up to look you in the eyes, seeing your face is wet, his large palms caressing your cheeks. “I know you did all you could.” He speaks the words clearly, making sure you can hear the truth. “It’s not your fault, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I… I,” he stutters, “failed you both.”

Your eyebrows dip down, going serious. “I told you everything that happened to me isn’t your fault, Joel. You can’t blame yourself for what happened to the baby, or Sarah, for that matter. I’m the one who fucked up and got a flat tire. I’m the one who became a doctor for the army and had to deal with the stress of treating people caught in the blasts when they tried to stop the spread of infection by bombing Alberquerque, which didn’t even work. The city was lost, the army cut their losses and sent us to Phoenix, we just…” You pause, sounding ashamed when you say, “We abandoned the survivors—left people in the medical camp who’d die without treatment, and as a doctor, I was horrified, but as an expectant mother? I was one of the first people on the truck because the baby was all I cared about.” Taking a deep breath, you continue, “I figured having the protection of the military and access to medical supplies was the best option I had to safely bring her into the world, even at the cost of my morals—she was all I had left of you, and I was willing to do anything to protect her, and in the end, she didn’t make it, and none of it was your fault.”

“There’s a chance she would’ve survived if I was with you.” Pain cuts through him like a hot knife, the regret stinging. “They both might’ve survived if I’d been with you.”

It’s weighing on him how things could’ve been different, feeling like it was all his fault for not finding you sooner. After Sarah’s death, he doesn’t remember much about the days or weeks that followed—he’d completely disconnected from everything and wasn’t himself, simply an emotionless shell of a person that did whatever he needed to keep Tommy safe, looking for you in every QZ, settlement, or army camp they entered. That night everything went down, they should’ve checked the route you took, they should’ve tried harder to find you. His mind is whirling with all of the different choices he could’ve made.

Your hand cups his cheek. “Hey,” you say softly. “Don’t think about the what ifs. I know it’s hard, but all it will do is drive you crazy. What happened, happened, and you don’t need to torture yourself over it by thinking of how you could’ve changed things. So, stop blaming yourself. I don’t blame you. I’ve never blamed you. It gave me the strength to keep searching for you, thinking that you and Sarah were out there looking for me, too. We can’t go back in time, so we focus on the present and the fact that after everything we’ve been through, we still managed to find each other again.”

Hearing that your grief spurred you on to keep looking for him makes guilt roil in his stomach over how weak he’d been and that, by his own hand, he’d almost made your search pointless.

There’s no sugarcoating it, and you should know after all you’ve revealed to him, so he just says it, “I tried to kill myself.”

It makes you flinch, shock coming over your face. “What?” you whisper. “Joel, when? Why?”

Taking a deep breath, he lets it out slowly, his eyes darting away because he feels so much shame.

“Second day,” he answers. Swallowing thickly, he continues, the emotion making his voice rough, “Sarah died in my arms, and after all the shit I saw, I thought you were gone, too, and that was why you never made it to my house. I lost you both and couldn’t see the point anymore.” He takes a second to figure out his next words. “I’m, uh, not as strong as you are. The two people I love most were taken from me, and I didn’t want to keep living. Simple as that. Wasn’t even scared,” he admits. “I was ready—more than ready.” He pauses, his jaw flexing as the memory of holding the gun and feeling so calm comes back to him. “When I…” He has to swallow again, a lump forming in his throat, it just as hard telling you as it was with Ellie. “When I went to pull the trigger, I flinched.” His gaze meets yours, seeing the sadness in your eyes. “I, uh, told Ellie this story the other day, and I said I don’t know why I flinched, but some part of me likes to think it was Sarah tellin’ me to keep goin’ and not give up.” A sad smile turns up on his lips. “You know how she was always bossin’ me around.”

You sniffle, sharing the same look as him, both thinking fond memories about his daughter. “Because you’re a fucking disaster, Joel,” you reply. “You need someone bossing you around.”

He’s not going to deny the truth. “That I do, and I’m so fuckin’ happy I did keep goin’ ‘cause I found you, and there’s Ellie.”

The only kid he has left.

If he was protective of her before, he doesn’t know what he is now, a little afraid he might become one of those annoying helicopter parents. He can’t risk anything happening to her. He needs to keep her safe, ignoring the sudden urge to jump out of bed to go over to Tommy’s to check up on her.

After the resort town, and what she’d gone through, he’d been so worried about her change in demeanor—how quiet she became, closed off, distracted, aloof. She wouldn’t talk about it, but from the look in her eyes and the blood that’d been on her clothes when he found her, she’d had to kill a person or people, and Joel felt like he’d let her down by not being able to keep her safe.

He hated when she had to shoot the guy in Kansas City to save him, and he hated even more that she had to kill when he wasn’t there to do it for her—she’s still just a kid, his kid, and he knew it’d be traumatic for her, even if she tried to put on a brave face, and sure enough, it’d fucked her up, Joel worried sick that he’d lost his upbeat, chatterbox, bad pun telling Ellie forever.

He’d done everything he could think of to cheer her up and get her out of her head as she’d always done to him, pretty sure he said more words to her on their trip to Salt Lake City than he’d said in the past twenty years combined.

Then she met you, and he knows it was you who brought her back to him—you’d literally taken him to her, helped save her life, and given her hope that everything she’d been through, the good and bad, all meant something, freeing her conscious of the guilt she’s held over those who’d died for her.

And since Joel and Ellie are cut from the same cloth and terrible with emotional shit, now that she’s better, they’re pretending like it hadn’t happened.

Thank Christ you were there to call him out on his lie about the Fireflies finding someone else and telling her the truth—she never would’ve forgiven him.

“I’m happy you kept going, too,” you say, “so you could be there for her. Ellie needs a parent, someone to love her unconditionally, and I know you love her like she’s your own kid.”

“I do.”

“Have you told her?”

He looks away. “...no. We’re, uh, not very good at that kinda thing.”

“I figured as much. You’ll have to tell her one day. I think it’d make her happy.”

“Maybe…” He looks at you again, frowning. “That little girl has been alone her whole life. No parents—abandoned with FEDRA when she was born. I reckon she’s never been loved or cared about, and she isn’t quite sure what to do now that she’s got a… a…”

What is he to her?

“Dad,” you finish for him. “You’re her father, and she’s your daughter. You’re still a dad, Joel. You’ve got another teenager to raise or at least guide. She’s no longer alone and now has people to love and care about her, all thanks to you.” You poke his nose.

“She’d hate me sayin’ I’m her dad…”

“Because it’s so foreign to her. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have one, and I think she’ll warm up to the idea after some time.”

He couldn’t help feeling hopeful. “It’d be nice,” he replies. “Easier way to explain our relationship, and I do know she loves me.”

She’d never had to say it. Her actions and how she said she’d follow him anywhere were enough for him to know. That’s how their relationship has always been—doing their damnedest to talk around their feelings because they’re both just so fucking awkward. He told Ellie it wasn’t time that healed him, and she’d understood what he meant: I love you, and you’re the reason I’m better. When she responded that she was glad the attempt on his life didn’t work out, he heard: I love you, too.

They get each other.

“Good,” you say. “I know she loves you, too.”

It’s an understatement to say life has been unkind to him. Frankly, it feels like all he’s gone through was some kind of sadistic test of his resolve to live, it getting harder and harder with every passing year.

Joel thinks he’s finally catching a break or at least hopes.

He’s got you, Ellie, and Tommy all together someplace safe.

It still hurts like hell everything he lost to get here, unable to stop himself from imagining what it’d be like if his other two daughters had survived—all of you settling in Jackson, him and you taking care of Ellie, Sarah in her thirties with her own home and a family, and then there’s the girl who would’ve recently turned twenty that looks like a mix of you both; he pictures a face with your gorgeous eyes, his mouth, your chin, and he’d feel awful that she got his nose, but she’s beautiful just like her mom.

What would she have been like? Would she have looked how he’s imagining? The thoughts have his chest squeezing so tight, feeling like he’s lost another piece of his heart after he just put it back together again.

His eyes are watery, his voice wobbly when he asks, “Did she have a name?”

Your face goes soft, sadness gleaming in your eyes, your fingers sliding through the hair above his ear. “Yes,” you answer.

“I’d like to know it,” he says softly.

“When I first found out, she was Jellybean.” There’s a fond expression on your face. “Then, after everything, I started calling her Hope? Didn’t even know if she was a girl, but to steal from Star Wars, she was my only hope and kept me going, so that’s what I referred to her as. If she’d ended up being a boy, I would’ve named her Joel.” That makes his breath catch in his throat. “Then I found out the gender, and Hope just stuck.”

“Hope was perfect.”

“Hope Miller.”

Tears are rolling down his cheeks. “Hope Miller,” he says, the name ending on a sob, Joel crying once more.

He hugs you close to him, breathing in your hair while he breaks down, your body shaking as you let go, too, needing each other at this moment, mourning together, sharing in the sadness.

It could’ve been minutes or hours later that there were no more tears to shed, both of you overly exhausted, feeling like your bodies had been wrung out of everything inside of them.

You lean over him to turn off the lamp on the bedside table, and with a hand on the back of your head, he brings you down for a tender kiss.

“Thank you for tellin’ me,” he murmurs into your lips.

“Thank you for telling me,” you reply.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, no matter what.”

“No matter what,” he agrees.

It’s comforting when you end up half on top of him, your leg thrown over his waist, your head on his chest, your arm across his belly. He holds you, everything that happened tonight, making him fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

He turned onto his left side as he slept, and It’s the bed jostling, you sitting up quickly beside him, that has him waking abruptly, adrenaline pumping in his veins over not hearing the intruder enter the room. You’re in danger, his heart pounding, breathing hard, and he’s out of the bed immediately, needing to neutralize the threat, not seeing any weapons, his hand grabbing the unarmed man by the throat.

He’s being shouted at by you, it finally registering in his brain, “Joel, it’s Tommy!”

His brother’s eyes are wide, his hands clawing at Joel’s arm, using what little air he has to repeat, “It’s me, it’s me…”

It breaks him from the spell, letting go of the other man, who starts coughing.

“Jesus Christ, Tommy,” Joel growls. “I coulda fuckin’ killed you!”

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes. “I knocked, and nobody answered.”

“So, you broke in while we were sleepin’? You got a fuckin’ death wish?”

Tommy catches his breath. “I wasn’t thinkin’.” He looks sheepish. “Doc’s here, and I thought it’d be funny, like back in the day when I’d barge into your room when she was at the house.”

Joel’s hand is on his naked hip, the other pressing to his face.

One of Tommy’s favorite past times, back in Austin, was showing up at his house on Saturday mornings when he knew you’d be staying over and annoying the fuck out of you both until you got out of bed to go have breakfast at the diner with Sarah—after the first time, you started sleeping in a shirt much to Joel’s chagrin.

“You’re fuckin’ stupid, Tommy,” Joel sighs. “You can’t be doin’ that anymore. There’s a real chance I’d end up murderin’ ya, and I don’t need Maria hatin’ me more than she already does.”

“Maria doesn’t hate you.”

He moves his hand from his face to narrow his eyes at his brother. “Maria hates my fuckin’ guts,” he replies.

“Wait,” you say, Joel stepping to turn his body toward you, confusion on your face. “Why does Tommy’s wife hate you?”

There’s a thrill running through him because he knows that as soon as you find out, you’re gonna rip into his brother. He looks at the younger man, nodding his head toward you, “Tell her why Maria hates me.”

Tommy looks uneasy. “Well, like I said, she doesn’t hate you. She’s just gotta warm up to you, is all,” his brother says.

“Uh-huh.” Joel doesn’t sound convinced. “Stop beatin’ around the bush, and tell her.”

“I told her the truth of all we did in order to survive,” Tommy says quickly. “How we fuckin’ murdered innocent people and all that fucked up shit. I didn’t leave out anythin’ ‘cause she’s my wife, and I tell her everythin’.”

“Tommy,” your voice has gone low and serious, and Joel can’t help his smirk. “Did you blame everything you did on Joel and make him sound like a fucking monster?”

Tommy looks mad. “You don’t know what we did—all the people we killed. We could’ve done things differently. It was Joel’s fault.”

“For keeping you alive, Tommy?” she asks, Joel glancing her way to see her looking just as angry. “His daughter died in his arms. His daughter. He lost me that night, too, thinking I was dead, and you’re fucking blaming him for doing fucked up shit to keep the only person he had left alive? Are you fucking kidding me, Tommy? If anyone has survived to today, they’ve had to do horrible shit to get here—I’ve done horrible shit that I’m not proud of, but I’m still breathing, and that’s all that fucking matters.”

“There were other ways we could’ve survived,” Tommy says. “Maria—”

“Maria,” you interrupt, “wasn’t in the same situation as you and Joel. You make her sound like a goddamn saint, but I have no doubts she’s had to do fucked up shit, too. Get off your fucking high horse, Thomas. You were the last person Joel had, and after the shit that happened to him, you’re gonna bet your ass that he would do anything, no matter how shitty, to keep you alive. Frankly, you should be thanking him that you survived long enough to make it here.”

The other man breathes in deeply before replying, “Look, it’s in the past, and I get it now that he was just desperate to keep me livin’. I still feel pretty fuckin’ guilty about the shit that went down, but I understand why he did it. I’ll, uh, talk to Maria.”

“Yeah,” you say. “You better.”

“I will.” He nods.

“Did ya come over just to annoy us?” Joel asks his brother.

“No,” Tommy replies. “Brought y’all breakfast, like I said I would. It’s in the kitchen, and I’m also here to find out what the fuck happened ‘cause Ellie is a goddamn liar.”

Joel’s stomach twists. “What’d she say?”

“I know I said I tell everythin’ to Maria, but I kept my word to you and didn’t mention Ellie’s… condition. She thought you were takin’ the girl to find her family.”

“Thank you.”

“Ellie said y’all found the campus in Colorado abandoned and that you ended up in Utah at a hospital the Fireflies were usin’, and that’s where you found Doc. She said the place got hit by raiders, and you had to fight your way out.”

“I did find Doc at the hospital in Salt Lake City, and Colorado was abandoned,” he says. Scratching at the back of his neck, he looks away. “We got to Utah, found the Fireflies, but they’d wanted to kill Ellie in order to try and make a cure…”

“What the fuck did you do, Joel?” his brother asks through his teeth.

“Joel and I killed them all,” you answer for him, Tommy’s attention moving to you. “I was a doctor there and have been researching a cure for the last five years. Ellie was our key, but Marlene and the head of the facility wanted to murder her instead of doing a procedure that she would’ve survived. It was fucked up, so I helped Joel save the girl, and we took out the Fireflies in the process.” You shrug.

“You saved her instead of everyone else on the entire fuckin’ planet?” Tommy sounds like he can’t believe what he’s saying.

“I couldn’t let her die,” Joel replies, his eyes meeting his brother’s. “Not after Sarah—she’s my kid, Tommy.”

His brother sighs. “Yeah,” he replies. “I get why you’d do it. It’s just fucked that there coulda been a cure, and now what the fuck are we gonna do?”

“Well,” you start. “If I can get my hands on the right equipment, I can do the biopsy and work on developing it myself, but I’d basically need a lab.”

“You could do it?” Surprise is in Tommy’s tone.

“Yeah? The assumption is that Ellie has had Cordyceps growing inside her since she was born—my theory is that her mom was bit while pregnant and somehow gave birth before turning.” That has Joel’s stomach falling through the floor at the thought of Ellie’s mother making sure her baby survived even after being handed a death sentence, not knowing if the child was infected, too. He understands, though, if he’d been in her shoes, he would’ve done the same thing to ensure his kid was safe—hell, he murdered an entire hospital, risking the lives of millions for Ellie, and he thinks her mother would’ve approved. “Anyways,” you continue, “what we think happens is when Ellie gets bit, the normal Cordyceps think she’s Cordyceps or that she’s already turned, making her immune. If I biopsy some of her mutated Cordyceps, I can multiply the cells to make a vaccine to give people that will cause the same immunity, or at least that’s what I’m hoping. There’s no guarantee it will work.”

“Fuckin’ A, Doc!” Tommy’s grinning. “I always said you were too fuckin’ smart to be with this fucker.” He points his thumb at Joel. “We got a clinic, nothin’ fancy, but I’m thinkin’ I could probably convince Maria that we need more medical shit. The town’s gettin’ bigger, anyway. It’d make sense. We can send raiding parties to nearby towns and cities to gather whatever they can find—you give me a list, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I can do that,” you reply. “Does Jackson have a doctor?”

“Yeah, Dr. Jones is an old, ornery motherfucker. We could use some new blood if you’re up for it.”

You smile. “I’d love to.”

“Great! The other reason I’m here—” he focuses back on Joel “—is findin’ out when you wanted to get hitched.”

Joel looks at you. “You got a preference, baby?”

“The sooner, the better?” You shrug.

He smiles, thinking the same thing as he nods his head, facing Tommy again. “You heard the lady. The sooner, the better.”

His brother’s smiling big, looking delighted. “In that case, be at the House of Worship in two hours.” He holds up two fingers.

“Will do. How’d Ellie sleep?” Joel asks. “You fed her, right? Let her take a shower?”

The younger man’s eyebrows are up to his hairline. “Jesus, you really care about this kid.”

“Congratulations, Tommy,” you say with a smile. “You’re an uncle again.”

“I guess I am—missed it.” He’s smiling softly. “She had no complaints when she woke this mornin’, and, of course, I fuckin’ fed her. Couldn’t believe how much food she scarfed down. I should be askin’ if you’ve been feedin’ her,” Tommy tells Joel as he pokes him in his bare chest. “She showered first thing at the house, and Maria got her more clothes.”

“Thank you for takin’ care of her. You didn’t have to,” Joel replies.

Tommy smirks, saying, “Based on all those fuckin’ hickies coverin’ your naked ass—” He points at Joel’s torso “—it’s safe to say it was better she stayed at mine last night.”

Joel’s cheeks heat, having not realized that he is, in fact, completely nude. Walking over to the bed, he groans as he sits down on the edge, pulling a blanket over his thighs to cover himself up, his back twinging in pain.

He sighs. “Yeah, yeah,” Joel says. “Thanks again for watchin’ her. Can you make sure she’s at the weddin’? You, too.”

“We’d really like you both there,” you add. “It’s important to us.”

“What about Maria?” Tommy asks, looking unsure.

“Like you said last time I was here,” Joel starts. “She’s family and allowin’ us to stay here, so she can come.”

You speak behind him, “But, if she isn’t civil and ruins my wedding, I get to kick her ass.”

Joel snorts, and Tommy puts his hands up in a placating gesture. “Woah, Doc,” his brother says. “Maria isn’t gonna start shit—she’s seven months pregnant, for Christ’s sake, she’s got enough on her plate.”

The blood leaves Joel’s face, feeling like he’s been kicked in the gut with all the air leaving his lungs.

He’d forgotten about his brother having a baby, or maybe he’d pushed the thought away because he didn’t like to think about it. It wasn’t his proudest moment how he acted when Tommy first told him the news. He’d been jealous and resented his brother for living his dream of being married with a kid on the way. Tommy was getting to live this happy, idyllic life, and Joel, at the time, was struggling with his fears of failing Ellie and getting her killed. It’d been too much to hear his brother had a kid on the way, making Joel dwell on the fact that Tommy had been right, his life had stopped all those years ago, and he couldn’t stand how his brother and everyone else in this town were living like the world hadn’t ended.

It didn’t feel fair to him, not with all he’d been through.

Of course, he wants to be happy for Tommy. He really does. He wants to be able to share in his joy, but it hurts so fucking bad being reminded of how close he’d gotten to having what his brother has now.

He lets air fill his lungs and slowly lets it out.

At least he’s got you back. And Ellie.

He’d started living again the moment Ellie had forgiven him, shoving her bag into his arms the last time they were in Jackson and telling him, ‘Let’s go.’ They went, and the journey wasn’t easy, both coming far too close to death to be comfortable. He found you, or you found him as it were, and now he’s getting his chance to live a happy, idyllic life married to you, and together, you’ll care for Ellie.

That sounds pretty fucking perfect to him.

A wife and a kid. Wouldn't have even crossed his mind a year ago—a fever dream.

“Someone married you,” you say in disbelief, taking Joel from his thoughts, “and is having your baby? I know the apocalypse happened, but did hell freeze over, too?”

“I forgot how fuckin’ mean you are, Doc,” Tommy chuckles.

“You’re tellin’ me,” Joel whispers, receiving a playful swat to his shoulder from you.

“I’m not mean,” you grumble.

He has to hold in his groan as he twists his body to pat your thigh. “No, you’re not,” he tells you. “You’re perfect.”

“Stop lyin’ to her,” Tommy says. “And I’ll have you know that I’ve matured, Doc, now that I’m older.”

Joel turns back, squinting his eyes at the other man. “You almost got yourself killed by bein’ dumb…” Joel replies.

“It was for old time’s sake.”

“Well, congrats, Tommy,” you tell him. “You were always so good with Sarah. I know you’ll be a great dad.”

Tommy smiles. “Thanks, Doc. I’m nervous but excited. Put together the nursery myself.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair and see y’all in a bit. Joel?”

Their eyes meet. “Yeah?”

“For all that’s holy, put on some fuckin’ clothes. We don’t need you bein’ our first prisoner in the town jail for public indecency.”

Joel glares at his brother. “You’re right,” Joel replies. “It’s time for you to get the fuck out. We’ll see you at the church.

Tommy laughs as he leaves, hearing his footsteps thudding down the stairs and the slam of the front door.

He presses his hands to his face, “Fuckin’ asshole,” he mumbles into them.

There’s movement as you crawl up behind him, wrapping your arms around his front and resting your chin on his shoulder.

“You okay, babe?”

His arms go over yours to keep you in place, turning his head to look at you. “Yeah,” he answers. “I’m fine. Had a rude awakenin’, is all.”

“Do you wanna talk about becoming an uncle?”

He lets out a long sigh. “There’s nothin’ to talk about—I’m happy for Tommy.”

“Joel, you don’t have to lie to me. It would be reasonable if you were feeling hurt that your brother is living such a great life and having a baby. I’m…” you pause, chewing on your lip. Your voice is small when you keep speaking, “I’m sorry I can’t give you children, and I’d understand if you wanted to find someone else you could have a family with.”

Hissing in pain, he’s standing quickly and turning around to face you, getting back onto the bed on his knees, not understanding why you’d even say such a thing—not after everything you’ve both been through to find each other again.

Is this you getting cold feet? Do you not want to marry him? Did he rush things?

His hands cup your face, making sure you’re looking him in the eyes.

“What?” he asks. “Are you second guessin’ marryin’ me? Was it ‘cause of how I woke up?”

He’s scared.

“What?” You look confused, your hands rubbing up his bare chest. “I want to marry you. Your reaction this morning was warranted.” Letting out a slow sigh, you continue, “Just, I know how much you’d wanted kids, how we wanted kids, and I wouldn’t blame you, now that you’re in a place like this, if you wanted to settle down and start a family.”

His face pinches in confusion, saying slowly, “Baby, we have a family… You, me, Ellie, we’re a family, and you’re all I need. You’re the only woman I want to be with.” He swallows hard. “I can’t stomach bringin’ any more children into this world—I’ve lost too many.” He inhales deeply, letting it out slowly. “I… uh, struggle with my need to keep Ellie safe. It’s always on my mind, and it scares me that I’ll end up gettin’ her killed like… like…”

“Sarah?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Like Sarah. I know Ellie isn’t her. I’m very aware. They’re so… different.”

You smile softly. “But they would’ve loved each other.”

He smiles, “Yeah. I reckon they would. Sarah would’ve found Ellie funny.”

“Oh, yeah.” You grin. “Would’ve loved Ellie’s terrible puns.”

He’s fondly thinking about it as he says, “She had a book full of ‘em. They were fuckin’ awful—if you think my jokes are bad, these were worse.”

Laughing, you reply, “I love your dad jokes. They would’ve enjoyed music together, too.”

“That they would. Both would’ve given me shit if I played guitar for them.”

“Affectionately, because they can’t reveal how much they actually love it to avoid seeming uncool. I miss your singing. Remember the first time you played for me?”

“Sarah’s thirteenth birthday party.” He nods. “We were hidin’ away in my bedroom while the livin’ room was overrun with teen girls, and I was tryin’ my damndest to woo you by playin’ some Ben E. King.”

“Oh, you wooed me.” You smirk. “Stand by Me was always my favorite.”

“I know.” He smiles. “I’ll have to see about findin’ a guitar.” He’s gotta play for Ellie and you. “What we were discussion’,” he says. “Ellie’s different, and I know it. She can shoot a gun and protect herself—has protected herself when I wasn’t there.” He frowns. ”I worry about her constantly. Somethin’ inside me needs to know she’s okay. If I’m like this with a girl capable of killin’, how would I be with a baby? It honest to god frightens me, and I’m sure I’d end up worryin’ myself to death.”

Your arms loop around his neck, a tender expression on your face. “As a doctor, I can tell you it makes sense that you’re overprotective of your living child. Hopefully, being here in Jackson and not constantly on guard will ease some of the worries. Just know I’m here if you ever wanna talk.”

“Thank you, baby,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you. When he pulls back, he looks you in the eyes. “I’m happy with all we have,” he says truthfully, “and there’s nothin’ for you to be sorry about—Ellie is more than plenty.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” There’s something he can tell you to ease your mind, and it makes him smile crookedly. “As a matter of fact, me bein’ able to fuck you full of my come with no risk of knockin’ you up really riles me up—gets me harder than a fuckin’ rock. I’m happy as a fuckin’ clam, baby.”

Your eyes go a little wide. “Oh my god,” you breathe. “You’ve got whatever the opposite of a breeding kink is.” You looked away, eyebrows creasing as you thought aloud, “Would it just be a creampie kink? No, ‘cause it turns you on that, there’s no risk of pregnancy. Wait, a birth control kink. You’ve got a birth control kink.” Your gazes meet, a grin on your face looking beyond delighted, as you playfully slap his chest. “I thought I knew all your kinks and fetishes, and look at you keeping me on my toes.” Leaning forward, you kiss him, Joel moaning when you shove your tongue into his mouth to tangle with his own, his hands holding your face, meeting your energy until you both need to breathe and separate. “I feel better knowing you’re happy with what we have because I’m happy, too,” you pant.

“Good,” he replies, smiling. Joel kisses you quickly. “We better get ready,” he says when he pulls back, a grin on his lips. “We got a date with an officiant.”

You’re smiling just as brightly, and it has butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He almost can’t believe this is happening, that you’re here, and in—he looks over at the clock on the bedside table—an hour and a half, you’ll be his wife, something you should’ve been twenty years ago. He’s missed too much time with you and won’t waste any more.

“It’s about damn time,” you reply.

“Don’t I know it.”

It’s obvious you’re both excited with how quickly you’re getting off the bed. Turns are taken in the bathroom, then it’s going through the bag of clothes Tommy had brought over. Neither of you expected to look like a traditional bride and groom; wedding dress stores no longer existed, and there definitely weren’t places to buy a suit. He asked your opinion on what he should wear, settling on a black and charcoal-colored plaid shirt with some dark wash jeans that were a tad tighter than he was used to. You did the same, showing him potential outfits and trying things on before you went with a cream-colored cable knit sweater over a white tank top and some light blue jeans that hugged your hips perfectly, but were too long in the legs, having to bunch them over the top of your boots.

Once dressed, you’d made your way down to the kitchen to eat the breakfast Tommy had left. Sitting at the kitchen table, you’re across from each other, barely coming up for air as the two of you eat your plates of eggs and bacon, the best fucking thing Joel has eaten since the last time he was in Jackson. You’re setting your water down after taking a gulp, a thoughtful expression on your face.

“You know what would’ve made today perfect?” you ask him.

“Hmm?” Joel hums around a bite, his eyes on yours.

“If Sarah were here.”

The sadness hits him like a truck, taking him off balance with how it slams into him.

He swallows his food, setting down his fork, frowning as he looks at you. “I wish she were here, too,” he says sadly.

A small smile appears on your lips. “I’d been so nervous the first time I met her because I didn’t want her to hate me.”

“There’s no way in hell she would’ve hated you.”

“Kids are really protective of their parents, and you’re the only one she had since birth,” you point out. “Then, for the first time in her life, you started dating. The cards were stacked against me—there were a ton of reasons for her to hate me.”

“She, uh—” he scratched at the back of his neck “—was always tellin’ me I needed to find someone, and then I met you and told her about meetin’ you. When our first date went so well, she was beggin’ me to meet you. I’d tell her about you, and she approved. You had nothin’ to worry about.”

“That makes me happy. You know, almost a year in, she said she hoped you’d marry me.”

He smiles. “Oh, she was tryin’ real hard to get me to pop the question—kept suggestin’ romantic places, she even said I should take you to Paris,” he chuckles, “and I’d have to remind her that I was waitin’ for the first year of your residency to end so you wouldn’t be stressed about a weddin’. Then there was the hiccup with you gettin’ fired—”

“Forcibly relocated,” you interrupt.

“Right.” He smiles. “There was the hiccup of you bein’ forcibly relocated and out of work for those few months, just didn’t seem right at the time, which was dumb, I know. So, by the time you’d started makin’ up your time at the clinic, I was done waitin’. I asked Sarah’s permission a week before my birthday, and she’d wanted to help me pick out a ring.” He frowns. “I’d been busy with that job, and well...” He sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair, leaving it unsaid because you two were very aware of what happened. “What I’m tryin’ to say is—” your eyes were on his “—Sarah loved you from the very beginnin’, and she would be so fuckin’ happy that we’re finally gettin’ married.”

You sniffle, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “I miss her so fucking much, Joel.”

His throat was closing up, having to clear it before he could speak. “I miss her, too, baby—every fuckin’ day.” He has to wipe at his eyes, something coming to him suddenly. “Last time I was here in Jackson, Tommy tried givin’ me a picture of her and me—one of the Polaroids that’d been on the fridge.” Sarah had been obsessed with the Polaroid camera you got her for her thirteenth birthday, the refrigerator littered with pictures of her with Joel, you, and Tommy, some a combination of the four of you. “I didn’t take it, couldn’t, not when I was thinkin’ if Ellie stayed with me, she’d end up like her. I didn’t want the reminder.”

There’s sadness on your face. “Oh, babe,” you say, “we’ll have to get it from him. Maybe put together a little memorial for her somewhere in the house.”

“I’d like that.” He nodded. “We could do somthin’ for Hope, too.”

“I’d like that,” you reply softly.

He nods. “We better finish eatin’” He points at your plate. “They’ll be expectin’ us.”

You smile. “Yes, they will.”

It’s a beautiful spring day, the sun shining high above in the clear sky.

It caught him off guard when you took his hand as you exited the house. Normally he wouldn’t want to be without his dominant hand in case he needed to use a weapon, but then your fingers intertwined with his, reminding him of times spent walking around the mall or the park, and the little smile on his face said that he didn’t mind, he actually quite liked it. Hand in hand, the stroll to the House of Worship has you taking in more of the town. It throws him a bit how people smile as they pass or offer quick greetings, it feeling foreign when Joel tries to politely smile back.

“I can’t believe it’s an actual functioning town,” you marvel beside him. “Electricity, water, sewer. I wonder how they found people to get things working again. They’d need engineers, electricians, and plumbers, too. Add in the fact they’re producing enough food to feed hundreds of people, and that’d require people with ample husbandry knowledge. They really got lucky.”

“Probably found people with backgrounds,” he replies. “I did construction, but I know my way around some electrical and plumbin’. Don’t know if I could get a dam workin’—if I had a manual, I’m sure I could figure it out.” He shrugs.

You glance at him. “It’s true you can learn a lot just from reading—don’t need fancy degrees anymore.”

“I reckon you’re a much better doctor than anyone who learned after the outbreak. Your fancy degree still means somthin’.”

“I guess.”

“I know it does, baby,” he says, leaning over to kiss the top of your head.

The House of Worship is an old church along the main street, the wooden siding of the building painted a deep red, with the entrance coated in white. It’s traditional looking, with the tall steeple containing a bell and its gabled roof that made the front look like an ‘A.’ The inside had the vaulted ceilings that you’d expect and rows of pews that led to the front where a plain podium stood, no holy symbols anywhere since it was multifaith. The place was empty, the tall windows along the walls letting in light from outside and illuminating everything.

“Five bucks says Tommy’s late,” your voice echoes in the large room, turning your head to look at Joel, his hand still engulfing your own.

“That’s easy money, baby.” He meets your eyes, looking amused.

“Wanna walk me down the aisle?” you ask.

Letting go of your hand, he straightens his back, it aching a little as he offers you his arm with a grin, answering, “Gladly.”

You hook your arm through his. “Ready?” you ask.

“Born ready,” he responds.

It doesn’t feel right that there’s no music, imagining that if this was before the outbreak, you probably would’ve walked down the aisle to the “Bridal Chorus.” Now, though, you’re thinking it needs to be something different, wracking your brain for the perfect song when it hits you, your lips turning up when you both face forward.

As you slowly start walking, you start humming loud enough for Joel to hear. He’s silent for a second, and you know with how much he loves music, he’ll recognize it.

“Etta James?” he asks, glancing at you with a curious expression.

“It felt fitting,” you reply, not feeling any embarrassment when you do your best impression of the singer, singing the opening line of “At Last.”

He huffs out an amused breath.

There’s a reason you studied sciences instead of the arts, and it’s because you’re not very talented in any of them; your singing voice is pretty lousy. Warmth spreads through your body when Joel jumps in on the second verse, sounding a bit rusty as he softly sings with you, making your way down the aisle.

The song isn’t finished when you get to the front of the church, both of you stopping on the same line. There’s a pause where you’re standing in silence, a circular window high above behind the podium showing the blue sky.

There are nerves swirling in your belly, even though you know you have nothing to worry about. Marrying Joel felt so right and was always what you’d wanted, now getting to make your dream come true. You’ve been alone for so long and lost so much in the past that you’re nervous about having people in your life to love and care about again, knowing they could be taken from you in the blink of an eye. You’re not sure how you’d survive if you lost Joel again; hell, it’d fuck you up if something happened to Ellie or even Tommy. These are your people, they’re all you have left, and you can’t worry about the morbid possibilities. You just need to focus on the right now and enjoy what you have, living every day to the fullest.

There’s something else you know without a doubt that Joel is feeling, too, and it’s the sadness weighing on your chest that Sarah is missing today.

Joel clears his throat beside you, his voice rough with emotion when he says, “You know, she’s here with us.”

“I know,” you reply truthfully.

Unhooking his arm from yours, he undoes the button on his left cuff, carefully rolling up the sleeve to his forearm, doing the same with his right. He turns to face you, and you do the same to look him in the eyes, seeing that sadness in the dark depths.

Gently, he grabs your left hand, bringing it up to softly kiss each knuckle, lowering it after a moment, his thumb rubbing over what he kissed. “It’s silly,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “She, uh, fixed this watch and gave it to me as a gift?” He holds up his left arm to show you his favorite watch that had broken, the glass now splintered. “It broke again when she died. The time it stopped on, well…” Your heart squeezes, feeling your eyes burn. “It’s,” the word cracks. He takes a deep breath, trying again, “It’s all I’ve had left of her. I keep it to keep her with me. She’s here.”

You cradle his cheek with your right hand, replying, “She is.” You nod. “She’ll always be with us, Joel.”

The door at the back of the church opens, both of you tensing, and looking toward it, the emotions dispersing as you go on high alert.

“It’s so much bigger than it looks outside,” Ellie’s voice echoes while walking quickly down the center aisle, looking around at everything, a visibly pregnant woman waddling slowly behind her. Ellie’s nose crinkles. “Smells fucking weird.”

“It’s an old buildin’,” the woman replies. “Old buildin’s smell.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Ellie’s finally made it to you, her attention on Joel as you both turn toward her. “Well, you’re not in a wheelchair, so your hips—”

“Are fuckin’ fine,” he grumbles.

The amusement is clear on the young girl’s face.

“Thank god for that,” she says. “Imagine traveling across the fucking country and almost dying multiple times, only to get to your destination where you cripple yourself from not being able to keep it in your pants. That’d be so fucking embarrassing,” she laughs.

“Well, that didn’t happen, so there’s nothin’ for me to be embarrassed about,” he retorts.

“Oh, there’s plenty for your old ass to be embarrassed about, Joel,” she replies. “You couldn’t even make it to the top floor of that building in KC. There was that time you couldn’t find the shit you stashed or, oh my god, how fucking smelly you get—which good on you, cleaning up for Doc.”

He lets out a long sigh, his hands on his hips. “You done?” he asks.

“I’m sure I’ll think of other shit, but for now? Yeah.” She nods.

“Thank you for bein’ here,” he tells her.

“Like I’d fucking miss you assholes getting your happily ever after, or whatever. Plus, I’ve never been to a wedding. Read about them, though. Wanna see what the fuss is all about, you know?”

“This should be pretty straightforward,” you respond, Joel and Ellie looking at you. “Just someone leading the ceremony and us saying vows to each other. Back in ye olden times, some people had crazy long ceremonies with a lot of speeches, but that’s not really us. We’re doing this more traditionally.”

“Yeah,” Joel agrees. “We’re not needin’ no sermons or someone waxin’ poetic about the sanctity of marriage.”

“Weddings sound exhausting,” Ellie replies.

“Oh, they could be,” you say. “Super boring, too.”

The woman spoke up, standing beside Ellie, “Tommy and I just did a small ceremony, like what y’all are doin’ with some close friends, and we exchanged our rings.”

“You must be Maria,” you say, sticking out your hand and introducing yourself, wanting to be cordial. “Most people call me Doc, and it’s kinda stuck.” You shrug as she shakes your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she replies, letting go of your hand.

“Are you guys gonna get rings?” Ellie asks, pointing between you and Joel.

“Rings are hard to find…” you answer.

“Not when you live here,” Maria responds, smiling. “We’ve got a smith in town who can make you some—she does it for all newlyweds as a gift.”

Your eyes widen.

“Oh, I’d love a ring,” you say. Looking at Joel, you ask, “Joel?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I’d like one, too. Thank you, ma’am.”

“You can call me Maria, Joel, and there’s no need to thank me,” she says. “It’s Valerie who makes ‘em, and I’ll let her know you’ll be stoppin’ by to get sized.”

“Well, thank you for doin’ that,” he responds.

“You’re welcome, Joel.” She nods.

You can tell Maria doesn’t particularly love Joel, but there’s nothing about how she’s looking at him, speaking to him, or her body language that says she hates him. If anything, it’s more indifference, her coming to terms with him being her brother-in-law and now a part of her life, so she has to make some kind of effort for things not to be awkward. Joel’s doing the same thing. It's almost like they’ve silently agreed that this is how things will be—civil and nothing more.

“Thank you for giving us a place to stay, Maria,” you tell her. “The house is lovely, and Jackson is so wonderful.”

“Y’all are more than welcome to stay as long as you’d like,” she says. “Joel’s family, and you’re about to be family, too. I know Tommy’s excited to have all of you here.”

“Speakin’ of my brother,” Joel cuts in. “Where is he…? And whoever's officiating, for that matter.”

As if on cue, the door to the church opens, and Tommy comes striding in. He’s in jeans, a light blue button-up tucked into them, with the ugliest brown and mustard yellow striped tie around his neck, and a navy blue suit jacket about a size too big for him—he even slicked back his hair. “Sorry, I’m late,” he announces. “Had the worst fuckin’ time findin’ a goddamn tie.”

“Going without one would look better than whatever that abomination is,” you reply, pointing.

He frowns. “This is a tie-wearin’ occasion, so I’m wearin’ one.”

“You didn’t wear a tie when we got married…” Maria says slowly.

“‘Cause I love ya and wouldn’t want you havin’ to look at this eyesore.” He replies, holding up the tie.

“So, you don’t love us?” you ask him. “What are we, chopped liver?”

“Liver and onions ain’t too bad,” he answers. “And, of course, I fuckin’ love y’all, too.”

He makes it to your group, going over to Maria, his hand on her swollen stomach as he kisses her sweetly. “Hey, honey.” He smiles at her, and she grins back. He looks toward you and Joel. “I’ll take it introductions were made? Doc, you met my wife—” He’s rubbing her belly. “—and mother of my kid?”

“Yep,” you answer. “We met.”

“Good. Well, everybody’s here, so we can start.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Joel asks. “Where’s the minister or whoever the fuck you got to do the ceremony?” His arms cross over his chest.

A shit-eating grin appears on Tommy’s face, the one that means he’s up to no good and is about to say something that is going to aggravate Joel. “You’re lookin’ at him.”

Joel’s eyes squint. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he grits out. “You’re not marryin’ us—the towns gotta have someone ordained or somethin’.”

“It just so happens Jackson does: Me.”

“This ain’t funny, Tommy.”

“Remember when you told me you were gonna marry her?” Tommy nods his head toward you.

“Yeah..?”

“Well, I went ahead and got myself ordained to do your weddin’—ain’t no skin off my back. I did it on the computer.” He looks proud of himself.

“What?” Joel sounds like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Why on God’s green earth would you think we’d have you do our weddin’? We probably would’ve had the minister at the church ma, and pop went to do it.”

“That man was older than sin and long dead now.”

“You’re not marryin’ us.”

Tommy matched Joel’s pose, crossing his arms over his own chest and staring his brother down.

“Then I guess you’re not gettin’ married.”

Joel scoffed. “We’re gettin’ married. We can do it ourselves.”

“Joel?” you said, putting your hand on his arm.

He met your eyes, the angry look on his face immediately disappearing. “Yeah, baby?”

“I don’t have a problem with Tommy marrying us. I think it’s sweet he got ordained.” You pointedly look at Tommy, saying in a tone that brokers no argument. “And I know Tommy would be very serious about the whole thing because he knows how important this is to us.”

Tommy’s hands go up in defense. “Hey, now, I’m not takin’ this job lightly,” he says.

Looking back at Joel, you say, “See, he means well, and I kinda like the idea of him doing it. We’ve got our whole family here—him, Ellie, Maria. Why not let him be involved?” You shrug.

He’s frowning, sighing out, “Fine.” He glares at his brother. “Don’t say anythin’ stupid—this is a big day for us. Keep it simple.”

“I can do that.”

“Okay.” Joel nods. His face softens when he looks over at Ellie. “Would you, uh, care to be my best man or woman, as it were?”

Surprise is on her face. “You want me to be your best man?” She points at herself.

“Well, yeah?” He sounds unsure as he keeps talking, eyes darting away, “Or, if you’d rather be the maid of honor, I’m sure Doc would be happy to have ya by her side.”

Ellie makes a face, meeting your eyes. “No offense, Doc, but I’m not feeling, ‘maid of honor.’” Her attention moves back to Joel, grinning. “But best man sounds fucking cool. What do I do?”

Joel’s smiling, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Just gotta stand next to me and be my moral support. Unfortunately, I don’t have a ring for you to hold.”

“That’s fine,” she replies. “I can stand beside you—catch you if you faint, make sure you say your lines, oh! Offer you a handkerchief when you start crying like a baby.”

“You don’t have a handkerchief…”

“Or do I?”

“Do you?”

“Of course not. Where the fuck would I get a handkerchief? My plan if you become a blubbering mess is to just, like, wipe at your face with the sleeves of my sweater.” She holds up her arms to show her maroon zip-up hoodie that’s a little baggy on her.

“I’m not gonna cry…”

There’s a shift, her playful expression melting away, replaced with a soft look showing earnestness and trust, her voice a little quieter like she’s trying not to scare him away, “You know it’s okay if you do, right?” she asks. “I won’t think any less of you, Joel. This whole thing is really fucking exciting, and I’d expect some tears, so don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Okay,” he replies, the word coming out rougher.

“So,” she starts, looking around at the adults. “How is this going down? In the books I’ve read, there’s music and people walking down the aisle and shit.”

Tommy walks around everyone to stand in front of the podium, everyone turning to look at him. “They’ll be over here and stand in front of me, you next to Joel, and I’ll get this show on the road.”

“I’m sitting,” Maria says, taking a seat in the first pew, her hand resting on her belly.

Your head turns toward Joel, him meeting your eyes. “You ready?” he asks.

The nerves you felt earlier had disappeared, and now you’re just excited. Sure, you hadn’t envisioned Tommy Miller doing your wedding ceremony, but you know, without a doubt, he’ll do his best. Even with him being a pain in the ass sometimes, he’s always been a sweetheart who loves his brother dearly—loved his niece a whole lot, too—and he’ll go out of his way to make this special.

You smile, taking his hand. “Let’s get married,” you answer.

He gives you a beaming smile, and quickly you’re moving to where Tommy had indicated, you on his left and Joel on his right.

Ellie pats Joel on the back, hearing her whisper, ‘You got this,’ him twisting a little to say back, ‘Thanks, Ellie.

Tommy pulls out a piece of notebook paper from his back pocket with writing on both sides, unfolding it to read from, and you’re impressed that he put in so much thought. Your hands are in front of you, Joel holding them, his thumbs rubbing over your knuckles, him smiling softly.

“Welcome, everyone,” Tommy starts, looking between you all and glancing at his notes. “Now, I’ve been to my fair share of weddings. They were all before everythin’ went to hell, and a lotta them started with how gettin’ married was the beginnin’ of some remarkable journey, yadda yadda yadda, you get the picture. That don’t quite work for Joel and Doc. No, their remarkable journey started in the summer of 2002, and I remember the day they met ‘cause Joel called me askin’ if I could come over the next day to hang out with Sarah since he asked his doctor out on a date—let me just tell y'all, I was confused as all get out ‘cause our doctor was a man in his 60s, with a bad combover, that was happily married, and I was under the impression, Joel was only attracted to women. My brother and I were raised that you love who you love—skin color, gender, none of that shit matters, which was pretty progressive for Texas. So, Joel tellin’ me he was goin’ on a date with his doctor, I thought he was comin’ out to me, and Joel, do you remember what I said?”

Joel snorts, replying, “‘Dr. Carlson’s a great guy. Where ya fellas goin’?”

You remember what Dr. Carlson looked like, which has you laughing hard with everyone else.

“That’s what I said,” Tommy continues, amused. “I was just happy my brother was goin’ on a date, didn’t care who with. He’d corrected me that it was a new doctor, and I’m not jokin’ when I say that Joel jabbered on and on about her for a solid hour, and I knew he had it bad. That was only the beginnin’ and after their first date? I knew he’d found the one.” Tommy looks at Joel. “I apologize for airin’ your personal business—” he went back to addressing everyone “—but Joel had bad luck with women, mostly ‘cause he went out with the wrong ones who didn’t much care for him havin’ a kid. But then he met Doc, who loved him, and his daughter, and I can tell y’all that Sarah—” Emotion is thick in his voice, already feeling tears starting to form in your eyes. “—woulda been happier than a hog in mud that they’re finally gettin’ hitched.” He’s fondly smiling. “I think her exact words would be, ‘Oh, thank god, took ya long enough.’” You and Joel chuckle, a tear falling down your cheek, his eyes watery, knowing he was hearing in his mind her saying those exact words just as you were. “Seein’ these two together,” Tommy kept speaking, “they just make sense. Aside from my wife, and I, I’ve never seen a more perfect couple—they complement and balance each other, and honestly, couldn’t have picked better partners. I only saw their relationship from the outside, but boy, could I feel their love; I can still feel it, and that love is what’s brought them here today. I don’t know that remarkable is the right word to describe their journey to get here—impossible seems more fittin’, and if there’s one thing they’ve shown me, it’s that soulmates exist.” Ellie scoffs, Tommy looking at her with a smile. “I know it’s cheesy, but hear me out. You familiar with Greek mythology?”

“No…?” she answers, and you’re wondering where he’s going with this.

“Myths are stories passed on by people that explain things about the world, like how it was created and such. Pretty much just people makin’ shit up and tellin’ each other until they thought it was true, but there’s this one I heard once about soulmates. It goes that when humans were created by Gods—the Greeks had more than one,” he clarifies, “they had four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces. They weren’t fragile like we are now, they were pretty freakin’ powerful, and it made them fearless enough to challenge the Gods, and they sure didn’t care for that, so to take the humans down a peg, they were split into two, and were forced to spend their lives searchin’ for their other half. Sounds kinda familiar, right?” he asks her.

“Holy shit,” she breathes.

“Right? You’ve got these two who had a happy life together and were torn apart. I, uh—” Tommy audibly gulps “—didn’t know if Joel could live without her if I’m honest. They kept searchin’, ‘cause that’s how deep their love goes, just never stoppin’, and it took twenty goddamn years for them to find each other again, but they did—found their other halves, ‘cause they're meant to be together. So, us bein’ in this church today? It’s been a long time comin’ and marks the beginnin’ of a new chapter in their lives—one where they’re back together and finally gettin’ to live as husband and wife.” Tommy looks between you and Joel. “Before we get into it, I gotta thank you both. Even though I was jealous of what you have, it gave me a blueprint for what I wanted in a relationship.” He smiles softly. “Our story isn’t as crazy as yours, but I found it with Maria—she’s my soulmate.”

His wife starts booing from her seat, and everyone erupts in laughter. “This ain’t about us,” Maria teases. “You’re embarrassin’ me.”

“Sorry, honey, was just tellin’ the truth.”

“You can tell it later. Keep goin’.”

“Gotta listen to my wife,” he chuckles, looking at his paper quickly. “Does anyone object to this union? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Do people actually object?” Ellie asks. “What happens if they do?”

“Nothin’,” Joel answers, looking over his shoulder at her. “The person gets kicked out.”

You lean to the side to meet her eyes. “The objection part was for back before there were public records, so if there was a legitimate reason for the couple not to wed, like one of them was already married, someone with the knowledge would object, and the wedding would stop. In modern days, people who objected usually wanted to proclaim their love to the bride or groom.”

“That sounds really fucking awkward.”

“It was.”

You straighten, your attention back on Tommy as he starts speaking, “We are gathered here today to join these two in the union of marriage and celebrate their love. We all know the seriousness of the commitment bein’ entered and recognize that they have a truly special bond. Go ahead and look at each other; you’re gonna wanna remember this.”

Looking into Joel’s eyes, you take in the rich chocolate color and how they’re gleaming with unshed tears. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks, those grey waves of his combed back from his face, and his pouty lips turned up in a happy little smile, him looking so unbelievably handsome. There may be more lines on his face, signs that he’s aged, but staring at him in this moment, he still looks like the man you fell in love with all of those years ago, and you can see him, can perfectly picture that Joel having this same expression on his face.

“And now,” Tommy begins reading from what he’d written, “Joel, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to protect her, to comfort her, to share in the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health, and whatever life might throw your way?”

“I do,” he answers so clearly, hearing how much he means the two words, and it makes you sniffle.

Tommy says your name, addressing you, “Do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to protect him, to comfort him, to share in the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health, and whatever life might throw your way?”

“I do,” you reply with the same conviction as Joel, and he smiles, a tear falling down his face.

The other man’s attention is on Joel, “Joel, repeat after me, I, Joel Miller, take you—” He says your full name, “—to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and protect always, holdin’ unto you forevermore.”

Joel’s gaze is locked on yours, his voice thick as he repeats what Tommy told him to. Your lip is trembling, feeling so happy you want to cry.

“Doc, repeat after me,” Tommy starts, “I—” He uses your full name, “—take you, Joel Miller, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and protect always, holdin’ unto you forevermore.”

“—take you, Joel Miller, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and protect always, holding unto you forevermore.” He can hear the truth in every word you speak, knowing you mean them all, and it has warmth spreading through his veins, feeling like he might be floating with how happy he is.

You’re on the verge of tears, smiling at him, and looking so beautiful that he’s saving it to memory how you look at this very second, wanting to remember it always.

Tommy’s grinning. “By the power vested in me by some online church, I forgot the name of and the town of Jackson, I now pronounce you husband and wife!” He looks at Joel, clapping his hand on his shoulder. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Joel doesn’t need to be told twice, his hands moving up to cradle your jaw while he moves in, fusing his lips to yours in a searing kiss, ignoring the tears falling down both your cheeks. It’s a little wet, but he puts everything he’s got into kissing his wife for the first time.

His wife. He got you back, and now he’s married to you, and nothing else has felt more right in the world. You’re his wife.

He’s deepening the kiss, wanting you to feel his love, his happiness, his devotion, that the vows you made to each other are the real deal, and he meant every single one—he will live as your husband until the end of his days, following you even in death, loving you forever, doing everything he can to honor you, protecting you with his life, being there when you need comfort, happy to share whatever good times await you and be with you through the bad, knowing he’ll never leave your side in sickness and in health, and that you’re stuck with him no matter what life throws in your way, because like Tommy said, you’re meant to be together—went through literal hell to find each other, and he never wants to lose you again.

There might be some credence to the stuff his brother said about soulmates. When Joel lost you, it felt like he’d lost a chunk of himself, and having you back has filled that void.

“Is the kiss supposed last this long?” Ellie whispers to Tommy. “It’s like he’s eating her face.”

You must hear her with how you snort, breaking the kiss so you can giggle, Joel sighing, Tommy and Maria laughing.

“Sorry,” you apologize to him.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about,” he replies, leaning in to give you a quick kiss.

“Let’s all hit the bar to celebrate,” Tommy says.

Joel nods at his brother, who starts walking over to his pregnant wife to help her up from her seat.

It just seems like the natural thing, Joel taking your hand as you both turn around toward the door, his attention moving to Ellie beside him.

“What’d ya think?” he asks her.

She smiles. “Disgustingly sappy, but I liked it. That soulmate shit was cool. I gotta do my best man duties—can you get down a little? You’re too fucking tall.”

Confused by her request, his eyebrows crease, but he slightly bends his knees. Ellie covers her hand with her maroon sleeve, pressing it to his left cheek, and it feels like his throat is going to close up that she’s wiping away the tear tracks. Her tongue is peeking out in concentration as she gets one cheek, then the other, giving him a once over and moving her head to get different angles, ensuring she gets all the wetness.

“Done!” she says, her arm dropping to her side. “How’s Doc’s face? Does she need me to help her out, too?”

He stands to his full height, his head swiveling your way and finding you’ve used your own sleeve to clean your face.

You lean past him to look at her. “I’m good, Ellie,” you reply with a smile. “Thank you, though.”

“No problem.”

The young girl is next to him as you leave the church, Tommy and Maria leading. His brother has an arm around his wife’s waist as they walk, and Joel’s holding your hand.

“So,” Ellie begins. “If we’re going to the bar, does that mean I get to have a celebratory drink, too..?”

“No,” all four of the adults say simultaneously.

“Geez, you guys are no fun.”

“There’s juice for you and me,” Maria replies, looking over her shoulder at the teen.

“Great,” Ellie grumbles, and it makes Joel smile.

The bar is how he remembers it from the last time he was here, except the mood is lighter this go around, and the place is just as empty as before.

“Holy shit!” Ellie exclaims, beelining for a corner. “Mortal Kombat?!”

He remembers how excited she’d been seeing the old arcade game when they’d stopped on their way to Bill and Frank’s. She said her friend knew everything about it, and Ellie seemed to love the character Mileena. She’s pressing the buttons and jerking the joystick. “Does it work?” she twists her body to ask.

You and Joel are standing with her while Tommy goes behind the bar, Maria taking a seat at a table near her husband.

“No,” Tommy replies, frowning. “Sorry, kid. We tried gettin’ it to run, but somethin’ in its fried. The jukebox works, though.” He points to the opposite corner where the machine sits. It was one from the 80s modeled after jukeboxes from the forties and fifties but updated to play CDs, with colorful lights glowing on the front. “There should be quarters in the bucket on that table by it.”

Ellie immediately went to it, the arcade game forgotten, hearing her clicking the button to flip through the track listings. The two of you headed for the bar, Tommy having set five glasses onto the bartop and was currently using an ice pick to break ice from a block.

“Tommy?” Maria calls.

“Yes, dear?” he answers, putting ice into each cup.

“Can you show ‘em what we got?”

“Yeah.” Tommy moves a few steps away to grab something, then sets it up next to the glasses.

On a plate sits a small round cake covered in white icing.

His brother is smiling. “She says ‘we,’ but it was really her,” Tommy confides in you both. “An olive branch, if you will.”

You’re turning to tell Maria, “Thank you. This was very thoughtful of you.”

The other woman waves away your words, replying, “It was nothin’. Can’t have a weddin’ without cake.”

“Well, thank you. We appreciate it.” You’re hugging Joel’s arm, looking up at him. “Right, Joel? We appreciate it very much.”

“That we do,” he responds, his head moving to look at the other woman. “Thank you, Maria.”

“You’re welcome, Joel.” She nods.

He doesn’t think they’ll ever be best friends, but she’s been friendlier this time around.

“I’ve never heard this song,” Ellie’s voice is loud as she speaks. “But based on the title, I’m pretty sure it’s how Joel feels about Doc.”

“What song?” he asks, both of you turning in place, looking in her direction.

“Gimme a second. I’m trying to figure out how to work this fuckin’ thing.” There’s the sound of her struggling, and before he can go help her, you’re already heading her way.

There’s a pull for him to walk over there, too, and he has to fight it to stay back, resting his side against the bartop with his arms crossed, watching from afar.

He glances at his brother to see him pouring drinks, putting what looks to be apple juice in two of them.

His attention goes back to you and Ellie, her pointing at what he assumes is a song, which makes you laugh, and him frown because he’s dying to know which one it is.

“You’re right on the money, squirt,” you tell Ellie as you show her how to use the jukebox.

A second later, the opening to “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” by The Police starts playing, Joel snorting and shaking his head as the lyrics run through his head, seeing how they are pretty accurate—every little thing you do is magic, and you’re always turning him on.

Something inside him soothes when you beckon him over, Joel quickly walking across the bar.

He’s in front of you, and you lean in so your lips are close to his ear, asking in a whisper for only him to hear, “Is your back okay?”

You’re pulling back, searching his face. His back isn’t bothering him at the moment, and he’s able to move around fine. “Yeah,” he answers.

A toothy smile appears on your face. “Dance with me, then,” you say. “Please.”

There’s an empty space in front of the jukebox that you’re standing in that must’ve been used as a small dancefloor. He feels heat licking up his neck because he hasn’t danced in years, and there’s an audience—Ellie watching off to the side with an amused look, Tommy with a matching expression over at the bar.

“Yeah, Joel,” Ellie ribs. “Dance with her.”

“Remember, Joel,” Tommy yells. “Happy wife, happy life!”

He sighs, gulping at your hopeful expression, not wanting to disappoint you. “Apologies in advance if I step on your toes, ma’am,” he says as he pulls you into his arms—a hand around your waist, the other holding your hand, while you’re grabbing his shoulder. He goes the safe route, starting to move you both in a swaying shuffle, you grinning at him with stars in your eyes that make his heart pick up in speed.

It’s not really a slow-dancing song. It’s too upbeat and moves too quickly. His heart is in his throat when the steps come back to him as if he’s riding a bicycle, you laughing softly when he begins leading you in quicker movements around the small space. He’s smiling at your glee when he throws in a spin here and there, knowing it amuses you, always pulling you back into his arms.

Ellie is standing by the jukebox with an expression on her face like she can’t believe what she’s seeing but is delighted by it anyway.

It’s reminding him of going out with you to the bar in Austin that did live music, having a few drinks, and you pulling him onto the dancefloor with the rest of the couples. With how happy you look, he thinks you’re remembering the same thing, the both of you just letting loose and having fun.

Fun.

When was the last time he got to have carefree fun like this? Sure, he and Ellie had some fun on the road, but he was always on alert and couldn’t let his guard down. Christ, he sure as hell wasn’t having any fun before the teenager came into his life.

That means the last time he got to enjoy himself like this was on his birthday, watching his favorite movie with Sarah while waiting for you to get off work. He hadn’t found it odd you were working at such a late hour that night since your clinic in the big city was open twenty-four hours, and there were times it was so busy you couldn’t call him until the end of your shift.

And here he is, having the best time dancing with you.

He’s taken aback by how normal this all feels. He woke up that morning with you beside him, in the new house you share, got married in a church, and is now celebrating in a bar with a cake, having drinks, and dancing to music as if outside the town walls, there isn’t desolation and unimaginable horrors.

How long can Jackson remain being this little oasis amongst the apocalyptic hellscape? How much time will he get in this bliss? Too many things have happened to him to think this will last—it’s too good to be true.

The song comes to an end, and he lowers you in a dip, causing you to giggle while Ellie claps.

Pulling you back up, you grab his face and kiss him, Joel losing himself in the sensation of your lips on his, feeling you smiling.

He focuses on you in his arms and your mouth on his, grounding him and pulling him from the darkness of his thoughts, giving him hope.

Joel will do whatever he can to help keep this town safe. It’s a new beginning for the three of you; Ellie can have a somewhat normal life and get to be a kid, you can relax, and the two of you can settle down together, hopefully living out the rest of your many years here.

“Thank you for dancing with me,” you say when you pull back, taking him from his thoughts.

“Any time,” he replies, smiling.

There’s a possibility you might explode from how happy you are.

You’re married to Joel. He’s your husband.

Staring into those big brown eyes of his, a sweet smile on his lips, you start speaking, “I need you to do something for me.”

His eyebrows dip together. “Anythin’,” he responds, rubbing his big hands over your arms.

“I need you to pinch me—I’ve gotta make sure I’m not dreaming and you’re really here with me.”

The expression on his face melts into something soft. His hand dips down to pinch your hip, his other one caressing the side of your face. “There,” he says. “Believe I’m here now, baby?”

Tears spring to your eyes, grinning as you crash your mouth to his, kissing him desperately, your hands wrapping around his neck.

“I suddenly want juice,” Ellie announces to no one in particular. “So, I’m gonna go get some, so I don’t have to see this. Seriously, guys. Gross.”

Her comment has you breaking apart from Joel, giggling as you face her.

“Sorry, Ellie,” you tell her, seeing her face pinched in disgust. “We did warn you about the excessive PDA.”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Still gross. I mean, who wants to see their… their… their.”

“Dad?” you finish for her.

“He’s not my dad.” It’s said almost like a reflex, and you can see fear in her eyes.

She’s like a wounded animal, and you’re going to need to be careful. You close the distance slowly; it’s only a couple of steps.

Joel’s moved beside you, and you’re surprised when he speaks, his voice low so only the three of you can hear. “It’s okay,” he says, her gaze on him. It takes him a second to figure out his next words, and he looks away with his hands perched on his hips. “That shit I said last time we were here? I was lyin’.” He sighs. “Thought if I said it out loud, it’d be true.” He meets her eyes. “You can, uh, call me whatever you’d like—caretaker, guardian, ward, Dad. ‘Cause—” he audibly swallows. “—I think of you as my kid,” he says softly. “You’re not cargo. Never were. You’re family. My family.”

“You’re my family, too.” Her voice is quiet, looking hopeful. “Feels weird calling you, Dad, though—” She points at him “—you’re Joel.”

He smiles. “Then keep callin’ me, Joel,” he reassures. “If people ask, can I say you’re my…?”

“Daughter?” she finishes for him, smiling. “Sure.” Ellie shrugs. “And you’re my father, but—” She looks around like she’s making sure no one is listening, saying conspiratorially, “—I’m pretty sure I’m adopted.”

He snorts. “That was stupid.”

She grins. “I thought it was pretty funny, Dad.” She makes a face. “Oh, yeah, that’s fucking weird—no offense,” she adds quickly.

“None taken.”

Her eyes dart away. “I’m glad you brought me here,” she says. “And that I’ve got you—both of you now.”

“Yeah, I’m happy you’re here, too, and Ellie?”

“Yeah, Joel?” They look at each other.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere. Okay?”

“Okay.” She nods. “That juice sure sounds good,” she says a bit louder, making you smile because Joel hadn’t been lying that they’re both terrible at expressing their feelings to one another.

“Let’s go, kid,” he replies.

She’s already moving toward the bar, and you take his hand, both of you mosying your way over.

“Congratulations, Joel,” you whisper.

“For what?”

“It’s a fourteen-year-old girl.”

He chuckles. “What can I say?” he whispers back. “I’m a girl Dad.”

“Yes, you are.”

Taking seats at the bartop, Joel is between you and Ellie, Tommy placing drinks in front of each of you before walking out from behind the bar to take Maria her juice, holding his own glass.

“To Mr. and Mrs. Joel Miller!” Tommy toasts.

Everyone raises their glasses before taking a drink.

It’s whiskey—actual facts whiskey, and not moonshine, it sliding down your throat smoothly, relishing the burn. This was quality shit from before the outbreak that was extremely hard to find.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, staring at the glass. “This is the real fucking deal.”

“We save it for special occasions,” Tommy replies. “But we also have shit we’ve made.”

“Thank you for letting us have some,” you say, turning your head to look at him. “I haven’t had a decent drink in years.”

“You’re welcome, Doc.” He holds his cup up to you.

Joel sets his glass down, you taking another drink.

His arm goes around your waist, his other hand scratching at the back of his neck, and you can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say.

He keeps his eyes forward. “I just wanna thank y’all for makin’ today real special for us,” he says loud enough for everyone to hear. “It means a lot to us havin’ ya here.”

“Psh—” Ellie playfully punches his arm. “—like I’d miss my chance at seeing you so happy it makes you cry, and I wasn’t disappointed.”

“Yeah…”

“We ain’t done celebratin’!” Tommy exclaims. “There are gifts.”

You and Joel are turning in your seats to look at his brother.

“What are you talking about?” you ask. “You’ve done more than enough. The house, the beautiful ceremony, the cake, this booze. We can’t accept anything else.”

“Yeah, Tommy,” Joel adds. “We don’t need anythin’ else.”

“Oh, quit it,” he replies, walking back behind the bar. “Let us spoil ya today. You sure as fuck deserve it.” He’s leaning down to grab something behind the bar and coming back up, keeping his hands low so you can’t see what he’s got. “This first gift is from Maria and me.”

“Why are you lyin’ to them?” his wife asks. “That gift is all you—I got the cake.”

“‘Cause we’re married.” He sounds exasperated.

“That one’s too damn special, it’s solely from Tommy, and I had nothin’ to do with it.”

He sighs.

“This first gift is from me,” he says, the last word a little louder. “And only me.”

“We read you loud and clear,” you reply. “I am dying to know what it is.”

He looks a little unsure as he speaks, “Well, now that y’all are here together, I’m hopin’ you’ll want them.” Two Polaroid pictures are placed between you and Joel, both having faded a little over time, your breath catching in your throat, covering your mouth with a hand.

The first one is of Joel and Sarah making silly faces at the camera—him with his hair still brown and his face less worn from age. You’ve worried that over time your memory of what Sarah looks like had decayed, but here she is with her dad’s eyes, her beautiful smile, and her head full of curly hair, just as you remember.

You’re reaching out to touch the second photo of the three of you on her fourteenth birthday at Joel’s house. You’ve got your arms around her, Sarah resting her head on your shoulder, Joel hugging you both from behind, all three of you smiling at the camera.

“I, uh, told Joel this last time I saw him,” Tommy starts. “But I went back to the house some years ago. Place was picked clean—found those, though.” He points at them. “Kept one of her and me—hope that’s alright.”

Joel’s voice is thicker from emotion, “Of course it’s alright,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, Tommy,” you add.

“You’re welcome.”

“Look at her,” you murmur.

“Just like I remember,” he whispers. “God, I miss that smile.”

“I do, too.”

“Can I see this one?” he asks, pointing at the one with the three of you.

“Yeah.” You move your hand to pick up the other, him taking the one he wanted gingerly between his fingers.

He stares at it for a second before showing it to Ellie. “This is Sarah,” he says to her. “My other daughter. I just know she would’ve liked you. Not that I think you’re the same. Definitely different kids, but still mine.”

“How are we different?” she asks.

“Well, she was a lot more, I wanna say girly?” He’s quickly adding, “And I’m not sayin’ that you’re not girly...”

She snorts. “I’m not.”

Joel smiles crookedly, “Yeah, you’re not. So that. She was taller. She had that killer smile.” His eyes widen, worry on his face, speaking fast, “Again, not sayin’ you don’t...”

“Chill out, Joel,” she laughs, him visibly relaxing. “She did have a killer smile. You really think she’d like me?”

“Oh, yeah.” He nods. “You’d get on like a house on fire. She would’ve liked you ‘cause you’re funny. I think you would’ve made her laugh,” he answers thoughtfully. “The two of you love music—she had a small CD collection she would’ve liked showin’ you. And I know together you would’ve had too much fuckin’ fun givin’ me shit. Can picture you gangin’ up on me,” he chuckles. “She would’ve liked you a whole helluva a lot, and I bet you would’ve liked her back.”

“Yeah, I think I would’ve,” she replies. “Sarah sounds really fucking cool.”

He’s softly smiling, looking at the picture. “Yeah, she was the coolest.” His head swivels in her direction, “Not sayin’ you’re not cool—you’re really fuckin’ cool, too. The two of you are way cooler than me.”

She’s laughing. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” she says. “It’s okay, and it doesn’t take much to be cooler than your old ass.”

“Yeah,” Tommy speaks up, Joel and Ellie looking at him, smirking. “Sarah would’ve found you hilarious, and y’all would’ve had a blast terrorizin’ the fuck outta this asshole.” He nods his head toward Joel.

“God, Joel’s right,” you add. “They would’ve ganged up on him, just a constant Joel roast.”

“It’s already a constant Joel roast…” Joel grumbles.

Rubbing his arm, you reply, “But it’s done affectionately.”

“I guess,” he sighs.

“There’s one more gift for ya,” Tommy says.

You’re staring him down, telling him, “Tommy, the pictures are more than enough—way more than enough. We can’t accept anything else. We won’t.” You shake your head.

“She’s right,” Joel cuts in. “You’ve given us too much. There’s no fuckin’ way we can ever repay you.”

“This gift isn’t from me,” Tommy responds with a little smile. “It ain’t from Maria either.”

“Then who’s it from?” Joel asks, confusion on his face.

You’re wondering the same thing. There’s no one else in Jackson you know.

“Ellie.” He points at her, both of you turning your heads to look at her, you having to lean around Joel.

“Hey.” She puts up her hands in defense. “Tommy helped!” She points at him. “Told me I could pick out a gift for you guys, and we went around to a bunch of places last night looking at shit, and I saw something I thought you might like, but it’s probably super fucking lame, so if you wanna trade it, go for it. I have no fucking clue what to get people when they get married.”

“Hey, don’t stress,” you reply, giving her a reassuring smile. “We’re gonna love it.”

“Yeah.” Joel smiles, knocking his shoulder against hers. “We’ll love anythin’ you got us.”

She looks unsure. “I hope so.”

“What’d you get us?” you ask.

Her attention moves to Tommy.

“Is it back there?” she asks him.

“Yep,” he answers.

Ellie jumps off her barstool, walking around the bar, to lean down and grab something that seems big, but you can’t see since it’s so low, her moving back toward you both.

When she’s in sight, your eyes go wide, realizing it’s a black hardshell guitar case.

There’s pink on her cheeks, holding it out to Joel, looking down at her feet. “When, um, we were on our way to Salt Lake City, you, um, said you wanted to find a guitar?” she says it as a question. “Said you hadn’t played in forever and that you’d teach me. Which you don’t have to,” she quickly adds. “But, um, I figured if you used to play, you probably played for Doc and Sarah, and she’d maybe wanna hear you again, so a guitar, for your wedding or whatever.”

“It’s perfect,” he chokes out, and you can see his eyes glistening as he gently takes it from her. “Thank you, Ellie. I, uh, didn’t think you’d remember all that.”

She meets his eyes. “I do. Remember a lot of it. So, there you go.” She’s wringing her hands in front of her, Joel carefully setting the guitar against the bar and getting up from his chair to stand in front of her.

“Would it be alright if I hugged you?” he asks softly.

“Sure.”

He’s slow in his movements, not going too quick as he wraps his arms around her, one behind her back, the other hand cradling the back of her head, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Her own arms go around his middle, his chin nestled atop her hair.

A father holding his last living child, a daughter being held by the only parent she’s known, a comfort they’ve both needed and something to cherish.

“Thank you, baby girl,” he whispers.

This seems like a private moment, averting your eyes, Tommy doing the same.

“I’m happy you’re, uh, better,” he continues.

“Thanks for not giving up on me,” she says just as softly.

“Never in a million years, I… care about you too damn much.”

“I care about you, too.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

They stay like that for seconds longer before separating, his hands on her shoulders.

“I think I promised I’d sing for you,” he tells her with a warm smile. “I apologize if I’m a bit rusty.”

“I didn’t save the world.”

“There’s still time, kiddo.” He moves back over to the black case to open it up, pulling out the mahogany acoustic guitar, its sides stained black, him admiring it. “Well, isn’t she a beauty.”

“You gonna play the thing or take it out on a date?” Ellie asks, making you giggle.

Joel’s eyes narrow at her, him moving to sit on the barstool with the guitar resting on his thighs.

“Gimme a second,” he replies, strumming his fingers over the strings, it clearly out of tune. “I gotta fix it.” His eyebrows are creased in concentration as he turns each peg to adjust the pitch of the strings until he’s satisfied, nodding his head when he strums, and it sounds right.

He’s not playing any particular song, just reacquainting himself with the chords, doing little melodies to get back into it.

Tommy walks out from behind the bar to go sit next to Maria at her little table, his arm over the back of her chair, while nursing his drink with his other hand, both of them watching Joel in interest.

Since Joel was a child, he’s been passionate about music. By the time he turned seven, he was playing guitar, and as an adult, he was so good that he only needed to hear a song once to know how to play it.

“Promise me you won’t laugh,” he says to Ellie while still playing.

She’s smiling, replying, “I won’t.”

He gives her a look.

“I won’t, I promise,” she says.

He nods his head.

“I’m trustin’ you.”

It makes sense that only after some minutes, he seems to have the hang of it, things sounding smoother, and you grin when he moves into a familiar tune—the steady rhythm with the twang as he plucks the strings, excitement bubbling in your belly over what was about to happen.

He’s focused on the guitar, his voice a deep, throaty rasp, as he starts crooning the beginning of “Stand by Me” by Ben E. King.

Tears are back in your eyes, feeling emotional that he’s playing your song.

This was the first song he’d ever played for you all those years ago, the song you’d ask him to play again and again because of how much you loved it, the song you thought would play while you shared your first dance after saying ‘I do,’ the song you could imagine him singing to your children.

And here he is, playing the guitar for the first time in over twenty years, and this is the song he’s chosen to sing, knowing how much it’d mean to you.

Joel Miller is the love of your life, has always been the love of your life, and now you get to call him your husband.

She’s honestly surprised that he’s not bad—kind of reminds her of the singer from Pearl Jam, but, like, if he were Texan and his voice was a bit deeper.

God, she misses her Walkman so fucking much, she’d kill to hear “Take on Me” again. Wait, maybe Joel knows it, and he could play it for her. She’ll have to ask him when he finishes with this song.

It’s crazy to her that this time last year, she’d been in FEDRA school, getting up to shit with Riley, and now she’s across the country, in a small town that fucking works with her—Jesus, it’s even fucking weird to think about calling him her Dad—Joel, he’s her Joel, it’ll take some time to ease into the name change. Anyways, she’s now here with Joel and Doc, who’s honestly a great addition to their team.

If anyone deserves to be reunited with their one true love like he’s living a fucking fairytale, it’s Joel, and Ellie is so fucking relieved that Doc is actually pretty great; she’s more than pretty great, actually. Doc is fucking awesome and has always been honest with her, so she knows that when Doc told her she’d try to figure out a cure, she was telling the truth, and that gives Ellie hope that she might actually get a chance at saving the world after all.

Everything she’s gone through, all of the people who’ve died for her, it all needs to fucking mean something. It has to.

Ellie’s happy for Joel and Doc, she really is, and she’ll never admit it out loud, but she’s scared. Not that, like, Joel will forget about her now that he has a wife. No, they care about her too much, and that’s what scares her.

For the first time in her entire fucking life, she has a family—Joel, Doc, even Tommy, and Maria—she has people who give a shit about her and love her. Joel wants her to call him ‘Dad,’ he thinks of himself as her father, and she sees herself as his daughter, and now there’s Doc, too, who’s so warm and comforting, and fuck, what if something happens to them? What if she loses them like she’s lost every other person who’s ever given a fuck about her? This time last year, she had Riley, and now Riley’s dead, and not only that, but Ellie’s the one that had to kill her.

A year and so much has changed.

What if she loses all of this?

She told Sam she’s afraid of ending up alone, but really she’s frightened of outliving the people who care about her, and now there are so many.

She just has to remind herself that Joel is the strongest man on the entire fucking planet. He got her across the country, basically came back from the dead, and took out a hospital full of Fireflies—they’re not in danger here in Jackson, and if they were? Joel will keep her and Doc safe, she’s positive about that, and Ellie will help, she can hold her own, and she’s not going to let anyone else die for her.

They’re safe.

Everything is going to be okay. Joel will make sure of it.

The song finishes, and he sighs, not looking at her as he asks, “Well?”

“Well, that didn’t suck,” she replies, smiling. “I’m honestly impressed ‘cause I figured you’d be fucking terrible, but you weren’t. You were pretty good.”

He looks at her with big eyes and a little smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nods her head.

“You still got it, babe,” Doc says.

He turns to look at her with a grin. “Yeah?” he asks her.

“Yep.” She smiles back. “You had me swooning—you know how much I love that song.”

“Yeah, I do,” he replies in a different tone that has Ellie making a face.

Jesus, they’re so gross, and now they’re kissing—of course, they are. She’s pretty sure they can’t go five fucking minutes without their lips locked.

Her attention moves to Tommy and Maria, who aren’t much better sitting close together fucking canoodling.

Disgusting.

She’s got the ick.

“Cake sure sounds really fucking good right about now,” she says loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

“Hell yeah, it does,” Tommy replies, getting up from his chair. “I’ve got plates and shit.” He’s walking back behind the bar.

Joel and Doc have unlocked their lips, thank god.

“Joel?” she asks.

He meets her eyes. “Yeah?”

“This is probably a long fucking shot, but there’s this band I loved called A-ha? Listened to the tape on my Walkman all the time, and they had this song called “Take On Me.” Do you know it?”

He smiles. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

He’s already playing the beginning, the familiar melody making Ellie smile so big she thinks her cheeks are gonna hurt.

Yeah, everything is gonna be okay, and her life has never been better.

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[wildemaven]

until now, until you : part one | javier peña

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: You meet a handsome stranger in a bar, both of you agreeing on certain terms as the evening goes on— no names, no strings attached, no commitments. What could go wrong— or right?

WC: 4020

Warnings: 18+ Blog: Smoking, Alcohol consumption, heavy flirting, smut!!, fingering, protected p in v, nipple play, consent is sexy, reader has zero descriptive features

A/N: I’m deranged and don’t know what happened with this. But I love it and I’m so excited to share more!! Big big thanks to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for continuously listening to this wildness with Javi and correcting all of my mistakes!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

The dimly lit bar wasn’t as crowded as you would have thought for a Saturday night. Its revolving variety of music and drinks paired with the ostentatious haze that accompanied the flicker of candles decorating the tables, it made the perfect backdrop to unwind and people watch. 

From your seat at the bar, you had a great view of the somewhat upscale space. Cushioned high back leather chairs lined the cherry oak bar top, a few chairs provided comfort for a few guests as they faced the array of liquor bottles, watching the bartenders move about mixing elaborate cocktails when requested. Semi-circular booths covered in a rich velvety green fabric lined the opposite wall, each table reserved by a group of ecstatic friends enjoying a small celebration or couples seeking a private spot to lounge in close quarters. 

Your eyes occasionally scanned the room as you sipped the lemony concoction that was recently placed in front of you, the bartender insisting it was a popular drink among regulars, observing the quiet conversations and unfamiliar faces, contemplating over how your evening had turned from a blind date with zero promise of a future, to you now sitting alone in a bar. 

The night was still young when your date and you had come to the conclusion early on that there was zero compatibility between you two. Not wanting your evening or your outfit to go to waste, letting your stilettos do the thinking and guide you to the nearest place in hopes to turn your night around. 

Every so often you find yourself fixated on the handsome man sitting two chairs from your seat, dark chestnut hair styled with some care, a perfectly trimmed mustache framed his upper lip— the perfect addition to his devastatingly gorgeous features. 

His gaze was heavily focused on the amber liquid, whiskey if you had to guess, that he swirled around in the crystal glass. 

In between his own sipping, he’d take a drag off of his lit cigarette. His plush lips wrapped around the tiny tobacco stick with such ease. You were mesmerized by the way his cheeks sucked in with each pull, accentuating his sharp cheekbones. He seems like a seasoned smoker, letting the smoke ruminate through his airways before tilting his head back and blowing the vapor through his gorgeous pursed lips, making an effort to keep it from settling around those sitting within close proximity to him. 

You had clocked him pretty quickly on his arrival, the crisp Texas evening air billowing through the room as the heavy wooden door swung closed the second he stepped into the bar. Your attention was captured by the unfussiness of this mysterious man, dressed in dark blue jeans and a red button up— an attire meant for a more casual setting, but he looked like he was seeking something more than a dive bar could offer. 

He had sauntered his way up to the counter in the most Texas way possible, the heels of his palms resting on the edge of the bar counter as he eased himself into the unoccupied chair two seats over. Your breath catching when his eyes lock with yours, offering a smile and a nod before taking a seat and signaling for the bartender. 

Majority of your evening was spent stealing brief glances, memorizing every little detail of his beautiful face, while trying to muster up the strength to have a conversation with him. You weren’t looking for anything serious, but he definitely seemed like he could potentially liven up the rest of your evening— your brain muddled with a deep attraction and desire to be closer to this man.  

A streak of adrenaline streaming through your system had you feeling bold and confident about your approach, hoping you weren’t coming on too strong in your efforts. 

“Would it be okay if I bummed one of those off of you?” Pointing at the red and white packet of cigarettes, leaning forward in his direction. 

He looks down at the pack, then back to you, his chair swiveling in your direction as he holds out the small box and lighter. You pluck one of the untouched sticks out, placing the butt of it between your lips— not missing the way he watches intensely at how your mouth holds the smoke, eyes constantly flicking back and forth from your lips to your eyes. 

You watch as your thumb flicks vigorously at the lighter, each attempt failing to produce the little flame you so desperately needed to pull off this moment. He must have sensed your frustration, sliding his glass in your direction and his knee knocking into yours as he sits down in the chair next to yours. 

“Here, let me.” He says, taking a hold of the lighter in your hand, his thumb deftly striking the spark wheel and holding the ignition tab.

The flame flickers about at the end of the cigarette, a glow washes over your face as you focus on the long drag of air through the cigarette, the end beginning to form a glowing fiery ember. 

You’re not really sure of the exact process, but you try to play it off like you have definitely had this before. It burns as the smoke settles in the back of your throat, immediately expelling the smoke from your mouth in a few short coughs, waving off the lingering haze floating through the air as you try to downplay the assault on your lungs. 

“First time?” His brows furrowed, concerned about your little suffocating mishap, three fingers bringing his glass up to his lips, his throat tensing as he swallowed down the rest of his drink. 

You mirror his actions, washing down the residual nicotine on your tongue, wishing it was water to help with the lingering burn. 

“What gave it away?” You say, twirling the stem of your glass between your fingers. 

He takes another drag, deciding you hate how sexy he looks doing it, but you don’t want him to stop because it’s making you feel a sort of way each time he does it. Silently torturing yourself with all the ways you would love to see his mouth work— on you. 

“The choking was a dead giveaway.” You both laugh together at how right he is. 

“Guilty! You just looked so— attractive over there with yours, I figured I’d give it a shot. Lesson learned. Here, do you want the rest of it?” Holding out the smoldering cigarette to him. “Plus, they say they’re bad for you— so I guess my lack of experience isn’t such a bad thing.”

He laughs again, grabbing the cigarette from you and placing it in an ashtray, then focusing back on you as he props and elbow up on the counter. 

“You get stood up?” He asks. 

“Straight to the point. What makes you think I got stood up?” 

“A beautiful woman, dressed like that, sitting alone in a bar— a man would be stupid to see you and leave without you on his arm. So, I’m assuming he never saw you to begin with?” He’s confident in his assessment. 

He thinks I’m beautiful? Evening not wasted. 

“Actually, I was on a date— set up by a friend who’s determined to find me someone to settle down with.”

“That bad then?” 

“No, he was a great guy, almost too great. But we wanted different things, and decided it was best if we just ended the dinner early before we went any further.” You explained with complete transparency. 

As you shift yourself in the seat, your foot brushes up against his leg as you cross your legs. You catch the way his thumb slowly skims over his bottom lip, intently watching your foot slide up and down the length of his calf, his eyes then returning to you. Even in the middle of this dimly lit room, you can see the desire sparking in his warm brown eyes. 

“Different? How so?” 

“He wanted a potential wife.”

“And you?” 

Your teeth catch your bottom lip as you contemplate the answer you want to give him, and gauging by how enthralled he is, leaning closer into your space, it’s fair to assume the attraction is mutual. 

“Nothing serious— no strings attached. Just a fun evening to let off steam and then go about our merry way.” You tell him, as you prop yourself up onto the counter, the distance between you gets smaller and smaller. 

His response is a low hum, jaw ticking to the side and an eyebrow cocked upward as he contemplates your suggestion. He finds you very attractive and likes the suggestion of no strings attached— he’s not looking for anything serious either, so maybe a night of indulging is just what he needs too. 

He studies the way your body responds to his touch, placing a hand on your exposed knee that is situated between his legs, thumb drawing light circles over your now pebbled skin. He doesn’t miss the small gasp you let out as hand inches over your thigh, exploring how soft you feel under his callused hands. 

If you could, you’d will your body to come right now. This prequel to what you hope to be amazing foreplay, has your body buzzing with anticipation, craving more of whatever he’s willing to give. 

Confidence erupting through your body, you decide that one night with this handsome man is a very good idea. Waving down the nearest bartender to close out your tab, leaving a more than generous tip, has things in motion. 

Hopping down from the bar stool, downing the rest of your drink in one final gulp before grabbing your clutch and turning to the man still seated, awaiting your signal. You take a move out of his playbook, placing your hand on his denim clad thigh, slowly sliding up towards his groin—  he exhales deeply when you boldly brush your fingers against the growing bugle within the confines of his jeans. 

“I think we both know where this is going…” You say, your lips ghosting over his ear, hand slowly sliding off of his leg as you move around him, heels clicking against the floor as you head towards the bathroom. 

Looking back over your shoulder, he’s watching your every move, giving him a sultry wink and adding a little more sway to your hips as you walk down the shadowy hallway— missing him throw  a few bills on the countertop before stubbing out the rest of his cigarette and finishing his drink in a hastily manner. 

*

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you step into the bathroom. Nowhere to set your clutch, you toss it into the oversized sink, then bracing your body against the washing basin as your brain catches up to what is about to happen if that beautiful stranger walks through that bathroom door. 

Not just a simple one night stand, but a one night stand with someone you had only laid eyes on 30 minutes prior. 

There was a small part of you that was nervous about the thought of sleeping with someone you knew absolutely nothing about— but it was only a small part of you. The other part was completely eager, an excitement stirring within you, so turned on by the fact that you were about to have the most amazing night in a long time. 

You give yourself a once over in one of the many framed mirrors, different shapes and sizes, hung above the sink— grateful in your choice of a silky shift dress, the fabric draping over your curves perfectly. 

It’s an impulsive move, but a daring one as you rid yourself of your lace underwear, confidence continuing to build as the seconds tick on, carefully stepping out of them and stuffing them into your clutch. 

A light knock on the door grabs your attention, one quick look at your reflection before turning to open the door. You’re met with a rush of air. Bodies colliding, gripping and pulling, strong hands providing stability in a synchronized flow of hasty movements as your back collides with the cool brick wall. Lungs exerting a passionate strain, as you look at the handsome stranger pressed against you. His eyes search for any sign of hesitancy on your face, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. 

The room is quiet once the lock is set, shared breaths drowning out the world existing on the other side of the door. 

“Are you sure you want this? Tell me to stop and I’ll walk right back out there, no questions asked.”  His words fan across your face, hot and honeyed as he seeks your consent to continue.

“Yes! I want this— I want you.” You purr with conviction. His chest is firm beneath your touch, fingers settling into his thick rich brown hair. 

You gasp into his parted lips when you feel one of  his hands cup your unclothed cunt, the skirt of your dress bunched over your hips. His other arm is quick to wrap around your waist, aiding in the support of your now shaky legs. 

“Were you planning on this happening?” He asks as his deft fingers begin to swipe through your wet folds. 

“No— but it seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up.” You say between staggered rapid breaths.  

“And what if I turned you down?” His hand stills, the question hanging in the air as he observes your nearly blissed out expression. 

You're not quite sure what happened to your usual demure self, and frankly you don’t mind that she is taking a backseat to this exhilarating situation unfolding. 

“I would have gone home and gotten myself off thinking about how handsome you looked sitting there at the bar. If it’s too much of a challenge, my hands are more than capable of handling this when I get hom—“

There’s a mixture of fierceness and purpose behind his heady work, your words forgotten as his mouth crashes against yours in a mess of greedy lips and ardent nips. 

He continues to kiss you with a fervent effort, swallowing the mewling whine that escapes your throat when his two fingers slide exquisitely into your velvety heat. His chest rumbles as your walls immediately clench around him, your body already on the precipice of an intoxicating payoff that it takes only a few swipes of his thumb over your sensitive clit to have you coming all over his hand. 

“Oh fuck!”

There’s a steady buzz of desire burning through you, your head falling back against the wall, mind reeling over the way this man was able to pull you apart with measured precision on his part. You would be lying if you said you were not looking forward to what else he was able to do with the rest of his extremities. 

His warm mouth latches onto your open neck. Blood rushing to the surface of your skin as he sucks and bites along your collarbone, his tongue soothing over the surface as he continues his quest for more of you. 

“I didn’t get your name.” He states as he halts his movements. 

His hair is a tousled mess and you can’t help but admire how gorgeous he is up close. The aurous flecks in his irises, visible even in the soft glow of this bathroom. A flush forming on the apples of his cheeks, the rosy coloring is perfect with his golden skin. His lips are a little fuller, tactile and tempting in their plushness. 

“I didn’t give it.” You muse, brushing the fallen hair off of his forehead. “No names. No strings attached. No commitments. We just enjoy what’s happening and then you and I leave this bar with just a memorable time together— is that okay?” 

“Yeah.”

It’s another blurred rush of motions, now pushed up against the sink facing the wall of ornate mirrors. You watch through one of them as he rips open a condom wrapper in record time, hands hurried as he works it over his hard length. 

“You sure still want this?” He asks once more, his chest flush against your back, the head of his cock notching at your weeping entrance. 

“Y-yes— Please!”

He slowly sinks into you, your moans mingle about in the confined space as he stills to let you adjust to him, his grip firm on your hips as you hold steady to the sides of the sink.  

“I’m gonna move, okay?” His voice is rough against your ear. You manage to nod in response, your brain too dazed at the sensation of his cock inside of you. 

The echoing  of his hips slamming into you fills the room, the drag and thrust of his length hits that sweet spot— eliciting a high pitched sigh from somewhere deep inside of you. 

“Fuck! That feels so good!” Your jaw goes slack, as he continues to punch through your aroused cunt.

His hands begin to wander around. One still firm against your hip, holding your bunched dress out of the way, while the other settles under your breast, oscillating between kneading at the weight of it and pinching at your pebbled nipple— triggering your muscles to grip him tighter as he does it. 

His breath is hot on your neck, forehead resting against the side of your head. 

“You’re so beautiful— the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.” Words freely fall from his lips. There’s weight to them, your stomach dropping as he continues to praise you in the most endearing way. 

You manage to open your eyes in your pleasured haze, his eyes already locked on you and they don’t falter. This isn’t what you expected going into this, to feel anything aside from an amazing kiss and a good orgasm, but this pure infatuation has begun to  creep up into your chest. He’s looking at you with an intensity that far exceeds anything you’ve ever been on the receiving end of— your body craving more of it. 

Your body begins to tense, your cunt clamping down as a lustrous arousal blooms at your core. A surge of heat licks at the base of your spine, you feel yourself beginning to tip over the edge. 

“Oh god! I’m— I’m gonna come!” 

“I got you— I got you. Go ahead, let go.” He nods to your reflection as draws delicate circles over your clit, coaxing the final push needed to reach euphoric heights. 

“Shit! Fu— hnngh!” He moans as the pulsating grip on his dick has him finishing right behind you, his warm spend filling the condom. 

He continues to hold you against him as his movements halt, pressing a trail of tender kisses from your shoulder to the sensitive spot behind your ear, then his gaze focuses back to where you’re still watching him in the mirror. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah— more than okay!” Still trying to catch your breath, your skin tingling in a post carnal delight. 

The room is filled with silence, the excitement at a low simmer now as he pulls out of you, ridding himself of the condom as you begin to search for your discarded underwear. 

Situating his jeans back onto his narrow hips and fastening his leather belt, all ready to head back out to the now bustling bar when he catches the way you stumble trying to step into your lace underwear. 

“Here, let me help you.” He says, kneeling down to help. 

“It’s okay— I just need a minute for my sea legs to get back to normal.” 

He chuckles softly, grabbing your undergarment allowing you to properly step into them while you steady yourself with the sink edge. He slowly slides them up your legs, fingers lightly grazing over your skin and glancing up to you as he does so, then positioning them just right, your dress falling when he removes his hands from you. 

“Thank you.” You say as you turn to look at yourself in the mirror, your usual timid demeanor now taking over your senses. 

A stillness hangs between you for a moment, neither of you really sure how to feel about what just happened. There was a spark building between you, a yearning for something more than you agreed on. 

“I’m gonna head out then I guess. This was fun— I had a great time with you.” He said, chewing at his bottom lip, tapping his knuckles against the porcelain surface of the sink. 

“Yeah— me too. Thank you for this— I really needed it.” Holding your purse tightly in front of you, nervously picking at the tiny beads that decorate it. 

Taking a few short steps toward where you’re standing, the space between your bodies disappears, his hand cups your face as his lips begin to move over yours without hesitation. You hold his arms, allowing his proficient tongue to meld over yours. It’s passionate and all-encompassing— and there’s an unreasonable part of you that wants to kiss him for an eternity. 

You’re not sure how long it lasts, long enough to crave more and not enough to be disappointed when he pulls away. 

He rests his forehead against yours, then slowly backs away towards the door, giving you one last look before heading out and the door closing behind him. 

You groan in frustration, smacking your clutch into your face as you try to compose your blurred thoughts about what had just transpired— most of them about the nameless man who you will most likely never see again. 

*

The bar is now filled to its max capacity, music levels lifted to accommodate the lively atmosphere. You hang up the pay phone tucked in the corner and head in the direction of the front door. Dancing bodies make it difficult to shuffle your way through, but you manage and welcome the cool air as you step out onto the sidewalk. 

A breeze blows through as you wait by the curb, wishing you had an extra layer to shield you from the wind. 

“Hey!” A familiar voice says, prompting you to turn in the direction it was coming from. 

The handsome stranger, his boots scuffing against the ground as he walks to where you were waiting, giving you ample time to admire him under the glow of the full moon, now noticing the dimple that pairs with the casual smile he gives you. 

“Hi.” You smile brightly at him, a nervousness washing over you as he stands there with his hand on his hips. 

“You need a ride home? My pickup is parked over there— I don’t mind getting you to where you need to go.” He points back in the direction of the parking lot, his nervous rambling is endearing. 

You tilt your head as you let his words resonate around in your mind. You want nothing more than for him to take your hand and guide you to his truck, holding your hand and the door open as you carefully climb into the cab. To watch his profile as he focuses on the road ahead, while some sweet country song about falling in love with a stranger at a bar drifts from the speakers. For him to walk you to your front door so you can both stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say as the night comes to an end. To feel his lips once more before he tells you to have a good night and he’d love to see you again. 

“That would go against the no strings attached part of our deal though.” You explain lightly, the crunching tires of your cab coming to a stop grabs your attention. “This is me. Thank you again— I really had a great night with you.” You lean in and kiss his cheek before turning and getting into the cab. 

“‘Night Handsome.” You say to him as you shut the door and the driver pulls away from the curb. 

He waves you off as the cab drives away, a small part of him hoping this isn’t the last time he sees you. 

#Javier Peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #until now until you series #pedrostories

[sarahsmi13s]

The Surfer and the Paramedic

paramedic!jake 'hangman' seresin

9-1-1, what is your emergency?

when jake was a kid he had wanted nothing more than to play pro-baseball. he loved the sport and worked his tail off to succeed. and he had great prospects to go pro. he had already committed to the texas longhorns, going to college to further his experience before going pro. he never thought he would need a back-up plan... not until his senior year when a raging storm tore through texas and devasted the towns in its path. jake and a few of his friends had made the horrible decision to chase it. only for it to turn around and chase them. the memory of the event is hazy. the visuals of it anyway. the pain? jake remembered it vividly. his leg, from the knee down, had gotten crushed by debris. it was a devastation to his life plans, his dreams. the debris crushed more than his leg... but something came out of that. jake had been saved. his got to keep his leg because of the paramedics and fire/rescue team that managed to pull him out. and that is where jake found a new opportunity. and that's where he met you. the surfer who would change his life as he saved hers...

=========

hey guys! i know i don't usually leave comments under these but i did mention in this post that this will have a fic to go with it! and once i can get the muse to cooperate with me on things, i will have it written.

and i do want to apologize for not getting this up last week like i said i would. i haven't been feeling quite like myself lately, but im trying to get back to it because i want to share my ideas with anyone that wants to see them. 💜

#vinny's moodboard multiverse #vinny creates #week 11 #week eleven #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #paramedic!jake hangman seresin #paramedic!jake seresin #paramedic!AU #au #jake hangman seresin moodboard #top gun maverick moodboard #glen powell #glenjamin powell #top gun maverick #sarahsmi13s

[nintendont2502]

cant find the original post but a while ago i impulsively decided to add all 32 sburb players (betas, alphas, alternians *and* beforans) to a random name generator and then randomly mix them up - characters kept their original first name and class, and took on the last name and aspect of whatever character they took the role of. this was just meant to be a funny 1am experiment so i could laugh at the cursed results

...yeah it has lore now. i cant stop thinking about it. help.

Beta Kids:

Gamz Egbert (Gamzee) - Bard of Breath. One of the most chill guys ever. Constantly zoned the hell out. Loves clowns :0) him and his dad bond over it. Hangs out with Kari a lot over vc, where it's basically just Kari talking at him uninterrupted (the kid needs it sometimes)

Kari Strider (Kankri) - Seer of Time. Gifted kid and he won't let you forget it. Permanently lives in a sweater vest even though he literally lives in Texas. Constantly annoyed by how childish and immature his older brother is. Lectures him a lot. Lectures his friends a lot. Has 'visions of his past lives' (aka occasional memories from his post-scratch/alternate timeline counterparts). Lectures his friends about how theyre real and valid whenever they make give him shit for it (which happens a lot). Dedicated pacifist - for now, anyway.

John Lalonde - Heir of Light. Golden child. Has an over-bearing mother that constantly pushes him into learning instruments/lanugages/skills, participating in competitions and events, winning award after award. Sure, he's... kinda sick of doing things all day every day, and he doesn't really want to do any of this, but... shouldn't he do it anyway? Even if just for his Mom? Hell, he can't really complain about it, right? He has such a good life! He goes horseback riding every sunday! Sure, it sucks that he doesn't have any free time that isn't controlled by his mother, but he can deal with it. It's fine.

(Things get even worse during the three year trip when Wuh Oh! Gender crisis time! Except he can’t be a girl because he was always meant to be his mom’s perfect son, and he’s already let her down once by letting her die, right? He can just… live with this. Its fine. It's not that bad. It's for her, after all.)

Roxy Harley - Rogue of Space. Grew up living on a small island somewhere in the Pacific that her grandfather 'won in a poker game' (aka probably scammed someone out of, knowing him) - or so he says, anyway. He also used to say he got Roxy the same way every time she asked where she came from! Haha very funny Roxy definitely loved hearing that and not a real response every time she asked where she came from and why she didn’t have any parents. That was great. Her grandfather died when she was fairly young, leaving her alone on the island with nothing left of him but the small inventions he left around the place to make life easier for her. She grows up learning how to maintain them, and although she tries becoming a great inventor like her grandfather, she just... doesn't have the skill. Hacking, on the other hand - shes great at that shit! She finally cracks her final goal - cracking into her grandfathers servers - just before her friend Gamz's 13th birthday, finding mostly boring shit - expenses, customer complaints, legal threats, budgets, etc. What's mildly more interesting to her, however, is the insane amount of money (if they lived on the mainland, they'd be fucking LOADED), and a .exe file for a really cool looking game, with a note from her grandfather congratulating her on finally getting in. And hey, would you look at that? Its multiplayer! And all her friends are free - even John, who through sheer coincidence found himself with a free weekend after his tutors came down with various mysterious illnesses and injuries. It's like the universe wants them to play the game or some shit! Haha wild

Alpha Kids:

Raph Crocker (Rufioh) - Rogue of Life. The living embodiment of all those business major memes. Dude is *dedicated* to the Crockercorp brand - he's determined that one day, he'll climb the ranks and become head of the company, and hopefully lead it just as well as his great-grandfather did. He unironically wears a suit everywhere, and seems committed to sounding like a 50 year old boardroom exec trapped in the body of a 16 year old - although it isn't hard to get him to crack. As much as he pretends he has no patience for his online friends and their constant stories of 'living on a remote island' or 'living in the post-apocalyptic future' (seriously guys, he isn't that gullible), he does genuinely care about them. Besides, when you're stuck in the house all day, there isn't much else to do.

Tuna Strider (Mituna) - Heir of Heart. Trans king. Exudes pure 'disney channel older brother' energy. Shithead (affectionate). Looks up to his Bro, a famous pacifist who resisted the Batterwitch's rule with a global peaceful protest... only to be killed the moment he became too much of a threat. Yyeah. Tuna has... some thoughts about how that should have gone down - most of them involving swords. Or guns. Or both. Maybe if his Bro had a sweet katana, the world wouldn't have been flooded! Although it's too late for his Bro, Tuna has decided to take up the fight in his stead by creating his own 'sick as fuck gun-sword' with whatever scrap metal he can find in the apartment (his Bro, for some reason, didn't think to leave him any useable weapons. cringe). He's got the sword part down great, but the gun... not so much.

Vris Lalonde (Vriska) - Thief of Void. The second half of the 't4t post apocalypse chaos squad', as Tuna calls them. Girl doxxes people for fun - what are they gonna do? Doxx her back? lmao good luck with that losers - closest youre gonna get is still 400 years off. Constantly daring her friends to do stupid shit and quote, 'stop being so fucking boringggg'. it usually works on tuna. sometimes on dave. she still hasnt gotten raph yet, but *one day*...

Dave English - Knight of Hope. smooth talking mile a minute inventor who *loves* trying to 'pitch' his latest invention to his friends. its become almost a game to them, where theyll take turns bidding increasingly ridiculous amounts for an umbrella that shoots seeds ('for easy planting in the rain yknow') or a beat-boxing robot ('i dont even need to explain this one just look at it man. cool as shit'). hell, even raph gets involved sometimes, usually turning it into a shark tank style negotiation. dave swears hes keeping a tally of how much everyone 'owes' him, and claims that one day hes settling that bill. his inventions are genuinely pretty impressive, especially considering his limited resources - being stuck alone on a remote island makes sourcing parts pretty hard. he probably wouldnt even need to jokingly scam his friends in order to jokingly sell his inventions - they jokingly sell themselves. he just thinks scamming people is fun.

Alternia Rapid Fire Round lets goo

Cronus Megido - Bard of Time. relentlessly flirts with anyone of a higher caste than him in the hopes that, if he can get into a quadrant with them, he'll have more protection than he would as just a solo rustblood. this strategy ultimately fails when he flirts with a particular Serket one too many times and gets killed for it. damn. oh well.

Sollux Nitram - so so tired of everyones shit. the only person that actually vaguely got along with Cronus (because he was the only person that Cronus didn't flirt with). just wants to play his pokemon in peace man stop dragging him into drama

Damara Captor - Witch of Doom. 'curses' people. seems weirdly unsurprised when those curses actually work. after cronus' death, a rumour went around that she was the one who caused it, and she absolutely wasnt denying that shit - now no one wants to fuck with her, and those that do? well, she still has her psiionics.

Meulin Vantas - Mage of Blood. Basically the only fucking thing holding this friendship group together. Despite all the complicated as shit relationships - the friendships, the exes, the mortal enemies, the attempted (and successful) murders - Meulin somehow manages to navigate the web of relationships and keep everyone relatively stable

Jaydee Leijon (Jade) - Witch of Heart. catgirl :33. Wishes she lived closer to everyone so she could see them 33: especially her moirail!! at least she still has her lusus to playfight with

Karkat Maryam - Knight of Space. basically a tboy vampire. Used to live in the caverns, but after he realised he was a dude, he began to feel uncomfortable with how oppressive and 'feminine' the caverns were. ran away. struggles with his identity - the contrast between the typical female jadeblood standards of being caring and nurturing, and the typical alternian female standards of being violent and aggressive, leave him stuck in the middle, unsure of what to do or who hes 'allowed' to be. swings wildly between being aggressive and letting himself care about his friends. he eventually figures out that gender stereotypes are bullshit and he can care abt his friends and still be a dude. hes still an asshole though <3

Eridan Pyrope - Prince of Mind. Incredibly committed to a strict moral code - which... no one can figure out. it seems to vary wildly depending on what suits him best at the specific moment. Used to roam Alternia looking for 'criminals' to 'improve' or, if that failed, 'bring to justice' with one Serket, but after an incident involving the loss of three eyes and one arm... they arent exactly on speaking terms.

Dyrrhk Serket (Dirk) - Prince of Light. i dont know how else to say it this mfer makes saw traps. he claims its to 'improve' people - by putting them through some specific trap, it... fixes a percieved issue? even if its an issue only he can see. and if they die in the trap? well, they should have just tried harder right. they probably deserved it. he isnt even doing this out of a desire to hurt people hes *genuinely* convinced that what hes doing is helping, and thinks that this is the best way to go about it. puts eridan through one one day, resulting in the loss of his vision, and after he (finally) figured out that 'huh maybe that wasnt a good idea', he... apologises. lmao just kidding that would be too reasonable - instead he mind controls one of his friends into putting *dyrrhk* into a trap of his own design, resulting in the loss of an eye and an arm. he seems genuinely convinced that this should make them even. everythings fine now, right? he scares me just on a conceptual level

Tavros Zahhak - Page of Void. hes basically a himbo im ngl. hes tall hes ripped hes clumsy and he cant help but draw attention to himself wherever he goes - attention he *hates*. moirails with jaydee. theyre cute <>

Latula Makara - Knight of Rage. clown... despite the usual purpleblood stereotypes, she doesnt really get angry all that often - most of the time, shes just vibing. but when she *does* get angry? its always for a reason. theres always a specific goal shes fulfilling through that anger (even if its just intimidating someone into doing something). i have the least thoughts about her but shes interesting

Jaiikk Ampora (Jake) - Page of Hope. Just a funny lil guy that likes playing pirates :) all the lowbloods he roleplays with definitely want to be there and don't feel coerced by being 'asked' by a literal violetblood :)) if people die during his 'games' well that sucks but he cant exacly stop playing because of a few small accidents right? ..yyeah. hes incredibly ignorant of his position in society and how that effects other people, even if (especially if) those consequences are deadly for others. after a certain point its just easier to not know whats going on than to face all the damage youve caused right. claims he loves the ocean and dreams of living in the depths. never goes into the ocean. hes a weird guy

Equius Peixes - Heir of Life. Future heir to the Alternian throne. Determined to lead Alternia into a new era of strength, no matter the methods to get there. moirails with Jaiikk (which absolutely doesnt help the whole 'Jaiikk accidentally pressuring lowbloods into doing things for him' thing. bro has scary dog privileges with the future emperor looming behind him at all times)

Even faster Beforus speed round because you cant legally make me think about them for more than five seconds

Porrim Megido - Maid of Time

Feferi Nitram - Witch of Breath

Rose Captor - Seer of Doom

Nepeta Vantas - Rogue of Blood

Kurloz Leijon - Prince of Heart

Aradia Maryam - Mage of Space

Aranea Pyrope - Sylph of Mind

Kanaya Serket - Sylph of Light

Jane Zahhak - Maid of Void

Meenah Makara - Thief of Rage

Terezi Ampora - Seer of Hope

Horuss Peixes - Page of Life

#me.txt #christ this was long #randomiser au #homestuck #i love these guys sm #they haunt me #ask me questions abt them please please pleas eim so so normal

[crag-dreams]

Y’all. I have been listening to Cowboy Carter almost all day, and Beyoncé has created a masterpiece. I usually do a vibe listen first time on albums, and she said “absolutely the fuck not” by having Ameriican Requiem be the opener. Hooked immediately. Jesus. Random thoughts:

Ameriican Requiem: oh, this is a really pretty start, wait, is that For What It’s Worth (Stop Children, what’s that sound) but her version? Holy shit, it is. And then she does like three other things in the same song, with incredible lyrics to set the entire album up.

Blackbird: my god, it’s gorgeous, and she included incredible artists on it.

16 Carriages: already super familiar with it, and it remains one of the most beautiful songs.

Protector: imagine being sung a lullaby by Beyoncé as a kid, and she’s just being a dope mom in the lyrics.

Having Willie Nelson and Dolly Parton and Linda Martell do the enthusiastic intros to multiple songs is fucking genius.

Texas Hold ‘Em: also been out for awhile, remains a banger.

Bodyguard is gonna be playing everywhere for months.

The decision to turn Jolene on its head and have her warning Jolene? So smart.

She just casually drops in some Italian opera on Daughter???

Angry Beyoncé rap is always fun.

II Most Wanted (Miley) and Levi’s Jeans (Post Malone) are also going to be everywhere. Great duets.

Ya Ya is wild as fuck. I love it and can’t believe we get to be alive as she releases this art.

Tyrant is 100% horny Beyoncé, and good for her.

Amen is one of the best outros ever. When she sings “trumpets blare”, it’s almost enough for me to believe god exists.

Anyway, that’s barely scratching the surface of this album. She’s a legend. I can’t believe this album exists.

#mine #beyonce #cowboy carter #new music #music

[bellewintersroe]

Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

part 10 here’s the LINK to part 9. Thank you for reading! Sorry for a bit of a boring filler chapter, I’m gonna really start building on Leni and Max’s relationship from now on, maybe throw in some more drama and complication cos I love it muahaha

Social media start to see something between Max and his team principles daughter, Leni. Max (especially after a few drinks) can no longer hide how he feels towards her.

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24@larastark3107 @maxxiemoo @crashingwavesofeuphoria @18754389

Austin, Texas October 22nd:

Max somehow felt even more out of bounds than he ever had before. I didn’t know how to act, I mean the first few days were kinda awkward. Whenever we spoke it felt like there was something else behind the eye contact we’d make, like there was that familiar tension lingering. ‘Just don’t ignore me’ his words played in my mind over and over. Whenever he was around I could feel the squeeze in my chest, the urge to just smile at him or say hello. “Hi Max.” I did a double take, breaking off from the conversation with Daniel and Heidi. “Hello, Leni.” His smile grew, I broke the eye contact, smiling to myself. When I glanced back at him, he was doing the same, a smile that made my stomach feel all fuzzy. “You excited for the race?”

“Yeah, actually-” he held is breath, bringing his hands together. I awaited his response patiently. “I need you- we need you to help with something.” My face flushed at his correction, tongue pressed to the inner side of my cheek.

“Mhm, what’s up?” I desperately hoped I wasn’t burning such a red colour right now, not as red as Max, because it was painfully obvious. Both of us knew exactly why it was happening, but it was unspoken. “There’s a piece of tare-off that’s gone inside the car, I thought you might have small enough arms to reach it.” I laughed at his response. “Oh great, I can try my best.”

The whole time I was reaching in, it was lucky my dad wasn’t there because I wasn’t bent to an angle that was rather… promiscuous? “Max- my skirt.” I breathlessly laughed, arm still inside the car trying to reach wherever the hell this tare off had gone. I could tell Max was getting a little stressed, he had to be out there soon and nobody could reach this stupid film out.

“Oh, got it.” He reached for the end of my dress, holding it firmly back down to preserve my modestly. My finger tips touched the film, leaning deeper in before retrieving it. “Ah, got it.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Everybody was treating me like the woman of the hour, I kinda loved it.

“There you go.” I handed it back to the gloved driver. Max pulled me in for a sudden hug, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “I love you, Leni.” He proudly announced. Despite the playfulness. “Yeah, don’t let Christian hear that!” One engineer called out as I rolled my eyes, watching them kick start into preparation again. “Thank you.” He rubbed my arm, before breaking apart a little awkwardly. “It’s okay, now you just have to win.” I teased, feeling his eyes lingering over my face. His plump lips were pulled into a smile, one that slightly reached his eyes as his eyelids dropped heavy. He looked beautiful, I couldn’t resist looking back up to him, despite how intimate the moment oddly felt.

“I’ll try.” He shrugged, “good luck.” I gently smiled, nodding before leaving him to get in the mindset before a race. Whatever was between us was lingering there thick. It was distracting enough for me, so I couldn’t imagine how he felt.

I’d spent the race in a mixture of the Red Bull garage, the paddock and the Mercedes garage. A traitor moment of me, I know, but my long time friend Mick, and his girlfriend Laila were here so I enjoyed some time with them, taking lots of pictures with the endless amount of cow boy hats there seemed to be lingering around this place. It felt too stereotypical to say that, but why did the grid have so many laying around?! Half of them were probably Daniels.

After another successful race from Max, the celebrations obviously began in full force. “Leni, Leni, look at this.” Lando smirked, pulling me by my sleeve to one side where I glanced down to a tik tok. “You have tik tok?” I laughed, bringing the cigarette up to my lips.

“You smoke?!” “Only when I��ve had a drink.” I muttered. “I’m telling Christian.” He tutted. “That’s right, bum your way up to a Redbull 2024 seat.” “No way- anyway. Look at this video.” He held the tik tok out to me again, I took his phone in my hand, eyes widening to see the pictures. Lando was snickering like crazy, especially when the audio began playing. “It seems Max Verstappen has been in close contact with Red Bull’s team principles daughter. Leno Horner who is 22 and stunning may I add seems to be taking over the paddock this season and it seems Max in particular has his… well.” The girl backed off to show the picture of Max’s eyes on my eyes whilst I bent over to retrieve the plastic from inside the RB earlier in the day. “-Eyes on her. Max is recently single after his split from Kelly Piquet, and Leni has been single (I believe don’t quote me on this) for some time now. Could we be seeing a new WAG entering the paddock anytime soon?!”

“Will we?” Lando glanced to me with a smirk. My jaw opened to speak. “What’re you guys looking at?” Max questioned and u physically jumped, closing Lando’s phone and shoving it back into his hand. Simultaneously I tossed the cigarette onto the floor before.

“Nothing.” I seriously answered causing Lando to crack up further. I didn’t even have time to react to the video, Max most definitely heard what was blasting and I was emotionally traumatised, embarrassed from the whole exchange.

“Sounded like nothing!” Max nodded, standing beside me and nudging his hand towards Lando’s phone. “Mate, you don’t wanna see the video.” Lando childishly laughed as I pursed my lips, preventing a nervous giggle from escaping. “Mate, I already heard it!” Max spluttered out as I cracked out a laugh. “You don’t wanna see it though.” Lando nudged me. “Why not?!” The Dutch man glanced between the pair.

“Trust me. I’m saving you from a lifetime of embarrassment.” Lando dramatically spoke. Max rolled his eyes and took the one. Lando snickered as he unlocked it for the other driver. “I’m going now-” I began.

“Wha- no Leni, what is it?” Max was dumbfounded, pulling the audio up to his ear. I cringed. “Don’t listen to it.” I swatted his hand back down. Max took my hand in his free one, holding it bay. He looked amused at the video, but I could see vividly the horror contort on his face when he glanced down to see what he’d already been looking at prior. My ass. Lando was laughing like a teenager, taking the phone back from a red faced Max. He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or hide from embarrassment. “Well hey, she has a good ass- if you don’t mind me saying.” “Yeah, I’m not denying that.”

“Max! Deny it!” I laughed, my hand slipping from his grasp. The two boys shared a look and I felt my face warming. “Oh, I’m not even- I’m going. You’re both gross.” I teased playfully nudging Max. Just as I backed off to playfully go find somebody else, Max hurried forwards. “Are you actually going?” He breathlessly spoke. “It is late, I’m kinda tired.”

“But- I didn’t upset you did I? You know with that video?” He innocently spoke. My heart melted and I found myself laughing at his worried tone.

“No, not at all. You know I don’t listen to that kinda stuff.” “Me either.” He awkwardly laughed, walking beside me. “But… stil.” He shrugged. “No it’s fine, Max. I stare at peoples bums all the time.” I shrugged, pushing my way through the double doors where I could make my way to the back entrance.

“I’ll come back with you.” Max commented, scurrying up beside me. “Are you sure? I thought you said you were getting Lando shots?”

“Yeah.” Max waved it off as I paused, standing to face him. Max’s eyes were slightly glassy from being intoxicated and he was a little wobbly.

“He’ll be fine. I’d rather leave, make sure you get back alright, you know? You are more fun than half those people, anyway…”

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x OC #Max verstappen imagine #Max Verstappen x hornerdaughter

[d0llhrts]

ᨳ. 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤 ↝ 𝐛𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: basically the bowers mansion video but you're there and you help colby when he's scared because *awee*

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing and fluff bc &lt;;33

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: colby brock x fem!reader

𝐚/𝐧: my first imagine slay 😎 THIS IS NOT PROOF READ BTW!! i decided to do it on this video bc its probably one of my favs omg the activity they caught!! plus colby playing with the cats was so cute stop. i do have a questions box on here so if you wanna request something feel free!!! ok hope y'all enjoy ღ

bowers mansion - from the front, looks like a stunning victorian Italianate-style house hidden within a small neighbourhood in texas. but what lies inside is much more sinister than you could imagine.

and this is where i found myself, in between my two best friends - and seth of course - counting down as they prepared to say their welcomes to a camera, or their youtube subscribers. the intro was done and everyone introduced themselves, then sam suggested we should have a look around the property.

round to the front side of the house there was a cellar, a common recurring theme through all of the haunted videos the boys have done. "oh my god, no way!" sam panned the camera around to the three of us standing there behind him "someone is going down that cellar tonight" he immediately put his finger up to his nose, colby followed and i seconded it by one swift movement of my finger. everyone panned around to look at seth as he quickly realised what was going on, unfortunately, he was too late meaning he was going into the creepy cellar tonight, but we'll see where the night takes us.

we all took a minute to group up and sensibly, like adults, speak about what we were going to do tonight. all eyes were on me as colby asked me "are you scared" obviously mocking but i hoped to god he couldn't see that twinge in my eyes as i started up at the house. of course i was scared, i was about to step foot into a haunted house for the second time ever, the sallie house was not the best to look back to for comparison. but, my answer was a simple "no" as i rolled my eyes and playfully pushed against his shoulder, feeling the twinge of pink coming to my cheeks at the close contact.

sam made a great note to point out the cock on the bell next to the door as we stepped inside this house. Inside our tour guide was already waiting for us, holding his companion, his dog alice."wassup alice" colby said in that tone you use to speak to animals "just bites my hands off" he followed up with, making us all chuckle."she's got a k-II on her back" seth point out "wait actually" sam moved the camera to get a better look at her back whilst the guide moved her to show us her back, "yoooo" we all said in unison. "ghost doggy" i added, stroking her head.

"I gotta get y'all to sign a paper saying if you get hurt or attacked or something like that it ain't none of our fault" our tour guide, david, announced to us leading us over to some papers to sign. looked at colby in horror. confusion, fear? "oh great" he laughed sarcastically. In response, he then tried coming up to alice, but she ran away, as expected. I was certain i saw the emf reader on her back spike up to orange, but i brushed it off trying not to frighten myself before we even began investigating.

"oh, it's a little bathroom" colby announced in a sing-song voice. Turning deadpan to the camera "harry Potter lived under the stairs but i take shits under the stairs". standing in the middle of this tiny bathroom, face going red as he was mimicking you know... taking a shit.

"and make sure when y'all are coming up and down these steps tonight, that you keep your hands on the rails because somebody can push you. I do not know who does that.."

holding tightly onto the bannister, sam replied, "okay".

already making it halfway up the staircase, without anything pushing me, colby's words behind me were another great sign of comfort! not."off camera the guy told me, there is a very very high percentage of us falling through the floor at some point, so lets all not stand very close together"

"what do you mean?" whipping my head around "so like.. this whole place is gonna fall down?" "this place" he turned to me "is like over like one hundred and twenty years old". I gasped "one hundred and twenty, what!" i exclaimed. "noo, what if i get scared" i pouted "do i not get a comforting hug" i joked. "of course, of course" he played along pulling me into a hug to prove it. gosh, this is going to be a long night.

"this is mary's room" colby, our new tour guide apparently, explained as he led us into this room, "this is where she got, shot and killed" 'oooo' sam gasped 'oh my god it looks like a full-on god damn seance". the room itself was nice and spacious, with some strange chairs that did in fact look like - a seance, and another little room that peaked off to the side. colby snuck out first, so naturally, i followed behind

"what is it colbs" i questioned behind him. "honestly like, i don't know" "looks like a balcony" i hummed in response. "how do you like" looking at me as i paused, "get out? got no clue this doors locked" he finished my sentence for me motioning to the door beside me. Looking back into the bedroom to get a peak at what sam and seth were doing, i heard a small crash behind me, and then the call of my name. "y/n/n look"

turning to look, i saw him pushing on a screen that sat behind the window, and it was indeed leading to the balcony. "holy fuck colby, don't go breaking up the place" i laughed, meeting his eyes as he smiled down back at me. calling out to sam to come see what he'd found. "exploring time" colby announced, climbing through the window. with sam, who had already hit his foot on the door frame, behind him filming. sam went next complaining that it was not the right day to wear skinny jeans, and colby proclaiming he stole his line.

ducking my head as i stepped into this mystery room, a hand flew in front of me, looking up i met eyes with colby, who had outstretched his hand to help me through. obviously, i took his hand into mine, enjoying the feeling of skin to skin.. even if it was just his hand.

all of us had clamped through the little entrance and were now aiming for the other door on the other side of this tiny hallway. "wait like since this was locked we gotta be careful probably on these floors" colby made a good point, this was locked for a reason. "yeah this is probably where it's fucked" sam joined, but we kept walking anyways."we just fall through". "This is gonna get so many views" colby said laughing. "colby brock dies in a haunted mansion" sam exclaimed. chuckling, i did wonder what was happen if we fell through, but as usual, i pushed the thought to the back of my mind

"that one says no entry as well" sam pointed out as we crowded around the little door. Colby tried the door handle, and to everyone's surprise, it was open. "looks like we can enter to me" he followed with an evil laugh.Entering the small balcony, it felt like it was being supported by twigs, "this is gonna fall through" all three of us said at the same time, looking at each other laughing. "we might be the first and last to investigate this" "yeah were like, we are the first investigators to really investigate this place" he makes a movement of falling through the floor. "yeah now let's go back inside before we do actually fall and die" me, with the brains, obviously.

"who's sleeping here tonight" tour guide colby led us into yet another room, but this one had a bed "yooooo they actually have a bed" sam shouted "we could do a slumber party" "hell yeah" i agreed.

"they should just make this a hotel" a gasp came from colby making us suddenly look in his direction. "actually" he pointed a finger "i remember seeing this room online, this is Bernard's room" "oh!" "this is where he would just sit at the window every single day and just do nothing" "that's so sad" i imagine how lonely he would have been.

snapping me out of my thoughts, colby finds yet again another place we are probably not supposed to be in. an old, black wooden door the paint chipping off as it's withered over time. he slowly pulls the door open and reveals some stairs, they're painted blue and yet again look worn. They lead downwards and they turn, it's complete darkness down there, and the stairs don't feel particularly safe either-not one bit of this house does. but we proceeded to go down anyway. sam goes first, saying something about shitting? I wasn't really listening, just trying to safely get down the stairs. colby follows him with the camera, then me, then seth. somehow colby found his way to the front of the line and goes down to adventure by himself. I heard him talk about another potty but the lord knows. meanwhile, the rest of us head into this boiler-looking room.

"so i think the only basement to this place is the cellar that we saw" colby pointed out. I was now standing with my back to the stairs as we all stood talking about what this room could be. "we have to go outside the to get to the c-"

BANG!

a loud slam was heard upstairs, we all jumped. "that was right behind me" i shouted "what the fuck was that" i coward."what the fuck" "was that upstairs" "it was upstairs" seth confirmed. "keep it recording" sam pointed as he headed back up the stairs. "wait was that upstairs" colby, confused, asked "yeah bro that was the fucking door" seth replied. "no way that was not" "it was literally right behind me colby" i shouted back, trailing upstairs behind sam.

"the doors fucking closed' sam yelled out "the fucking door just closed by itself" "there's no draft up here" "holy shit" we were all talking over each other. "bernards room is the most active" colby bellowed out, scaring sam in the process. "that's what he told me" "bernard told you that?" i asked creasing my eyebrows. "no he-" cutting himself off, laughing. "bernard just shut us in the basement, he's like don't come back" sam declared. we had only been in this house for around twenty minutes and i already had a bad vibe.

the tour guide had just left us alone for the night, so it was time to start the proper investigation. we had been trying to film the story behind this house. but every time we would hear a noise coming from upstairs. colby was certain there was someone in here with us, but we searched and found... no one.

regrouping at the bottom of the staircase, we began to explain to the camera about bernard, the man's room where the door slammed. there was noise after noise after noise, there has to be someone or something here. 

sending colby upstairs first, which he was more than happy to go and throw a punch at whoever was upstairs messing with us, i have to admit was hot. I lingered behind him when he took the lead, however, when we walked past the "private, do not enter" room i noticed something. the door looked like it had been... moved? shaking my head i moved on, still trailing behind him. until we both heard this... meow? why would we be hearing meows in an abandoned mansion? I looked at him and he nodded, acknowledgement to show me that he heard it too. turning around to walk back down the hallway, he pulled out his phone to film

but i stopped at that same door. the private one, the one i thought was open. "colby" i hollered down the hallway, he came running back out another room. "what, what happened" he sounded almost worried? I decided to ignore it, for now, brushing it off as a fragment of my imagination. "the door is open" i responded "the door?" he sounded equally as confused. "yeah the door, you remember the one that was locked" "how the fuck.." "i know right, i walked past it before i just thought nothing of it" he went to push it open. "wait, don't" i stopped him "sam!!" i called down to the blonde boy downstairs who was setting up our equipment

he paced up the stairs, with the camera in his hand, and i assumed it was recording. "yeah, what?" he panted out. "look the fucking door is open" i gestured. "what, how it was locked" "that's what i thought but it's open" "shall we open it?" he questioned. "yeah" colby butted in outstretching his hand again, i made no move to stop him this time letting sam film around me as we all peered around to see what was in this room

to our surprise, we were met with 7 pairs of glowing eyes. cats...?

colby jumped as one of the cats approached the door, he looked back at our group. "what the fuck' i was the first one to speak out "why is there like 18 cats in a room" i questioned, bewildered. we must have been playing with the cats for at least half an hour. them passing the cat ball back to us and seeing their little faces pop up when we stuck our phones in was such a nice little distraction from where we actually are.

 but sam wanted to start the investigation soon, so we all huddled outside, deciding what equipment we each are going to use. colby got to be inside on his own with the k-II a small device that scans electromagnetic fields, measuring them with a bright LED array that moves from green to red depending on their strength. seth has the ovilus, a device which also uses its temperature and magnetic field detector to pick up words and spit them out using its built-in dictionary. and sam had to be in the cellar on his own, with a rem pod, that detects physical touch or temperature change, and a night vision camera

me on the other hand had to choose. It was between seth and colby. sam wasn't offended when i passed up the offer to come down to a scary cellar. I knew i was going to choose colby, of course, i just had to. but for the dramatics, i pretended to think.

"ok I'm going to have to choose hm... colby" "great choice" he smiled side hugging me. loaded up with a camera and a music box, that plays a tune when motion is detected in front of it, we headed inside.

"game plan" colby announced when we were situated inside. "you stay downstairs and I'll go upstairs, that good?" i nodded. his expression softened slightly, looking into my eyes "you don't have to do this y/n" he pulled me into a hug. for a millisecond i was frozen, but i came to my senses as i relaxed into him, inhaling his scent, i did feel calmer. "im ok" i muttered into his chest "ill do it" . "ok" he pulled away and held me by my shoulders "let's do this" he winked before turning around and heading upstairs

a few good minutes went by while i set up, setting up a camera on a ledge wasn't as easy as i thought. i could hear colby walking around upstairs, i assumed talking to the camera.

i set the music box down in the hallway behind me, let it calibrate, and started asking questions. nothing was really happening, i was debating about moving into a new spot, but as soon as i went to pick up the music box, a loud crash was heard from upstairs.

frozen, i called out to colby. was that him or...

"colby" i yelled up the stairs. i could faintly hear him cursing to himself, and his footsteps get closer to the stairs. turning my head towards the stairs, i met his eye. he was visibly shaken, almost pale, and sweating. "holy shit colby what happened" running over to him grabbing his arm as he stood in the middle of the room with, said arm, over his mouth and one holding the camera. i could feel him shake under my clutch. confused as to what happened i kept asking. but he didn't say anything.

"come on colbs let's go outside" dragging him by his arm, he was getting sweaty and i knew he needed some fresh air. i manoeuvred him to sit down on the stairs. sitting up one from him so i could reach his head, and hold it into my chest, trying to get him to calm down his breathing. "It's ok colbs i got you" "i got you" i kept repeating, reassuring him i was there. i kissed the top of his head, which was still resting against his chest, we must have been there for about 15 minutes before he finally sat up. 

"what was that colbs what happened" he just looked at me, my eyes were pleadings for some answers. "that door"...

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby imagine #colby brock x reader #colby x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock imagines

[wildlife4life]

Seven (+) Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the very lovely @rainbow-nerdss, @fortheloveofbuddie @wikiangela @evanbegins and @daffi-990. Thank you! Can't wait for all your upcoming works!

In honor of the NFL regular season coming to an end today and the beginning of the playoffs, I'm sharing a part of a fan favorite. That's right ya'll, its an NFL Buck snippet! WOOOOO! (And I know this wayyyyy more than seven sentences, but are ya'll going to complain about extra NFL Buck?)

Eddie wasn't lying when he told Chimney he loved football. He just didn't say how much. When Chim invited the newest member of the 118 and his son to a kid friendly sports bar to watch the Rams play the Colts in Indy, he was expecting to be turned down. Hen encouraged it, "He needs friends that enjoy what he does. And I really can't listen to another rant about football stats or how Dustin Watson isn't taking the Texans to the tournament." "Deshaun Watson." Bobby corrected from the kitchen, "And its the playoffs." Hen rolls her eyes, "Whatever. You both have Sunday free and Buckley is playing, Christopher's favorite player." "How do you know the Ram's quarterback is playing, but not the name of the man who got Buckley kicked out of Texas?" Chim teased. "Denny." His friend answers simply, "You know he likes all things LA Rams." "Then why aren't you inviting Eddie and Christopher to your place to watch the game with Denny?" "Because Howard," Hen remarks a little sharply, "I'm not off Sunday and Karen has yet to meet Eddie, so it would be uncomfortable for everyone to have him in our home without me. Why are you arguing about this? You were just complaining about how Eddie and I are all buddy-buddy the other day." "You two have a lot more in common and somehow I always seem to stick my foot in my mouth whenever I talk to the guy. I freaking outed the dude!" Chimney reminds them. Bobby steps away from the stove and joins the two paramedics at the marble island, "Eddie wasn't making it easy for any of us to get to know him. Hen was just braver than most to actually approach him. Now its your turn and football is a good jumping point." Chimney opens his mouth to try objecting again, "And it will help in making up for the whole outing incident and interrogating his kid."

Cap had him there "And you'll pay." Hen demands and when Chimney arches a brow of slight disagreement she just shrugs and states, "It'll help dispel some of the notion of being his boyfriend's sugar baby and his birthday is the same week, making this an easy gift." And Hen made the kill shot. So Chimney awkwardly approached Eddie in the locker room at the end of their shift and invited him and Christopher to watch the game. He was happily surprised when Eddie said yes and brought an equally ecstatic Christopher with him without hesitation. Chim was additionally surprised with Eddie's total enrapture of the game, even more so with his undivided attention to the Ram's new quarterback, Evan Buckley. Every play the man made, Eddie was on his feet making some sort of comment. Good plays came with shouts of, "Good boy Buckley!" and "Great throw man!". Poor plays, interceptions, or missed opportunities, were met with, "Shake it off Buckley!" and "You got this Evan!" And any missed or bad calls from the refs... well Chimney knew foul language when he heard it, no matter what language. "We have a swear jar at home. It gets donated to Evan's charity at the end of the season." Christopher explains when he catches Chimney's questioning side glance after his father's latest f-bomb. Ah well, at least there's some sort of consequence to cursing in front of a child. "I have to pay up too if I say anything like my dad does, but I've never come close to his number." Chris adds on with a giggle and Chimney joins him with a low chuckle of his own. A niggle of curiosity has him asking, "And what about Buck?" The younger Diaz gives all his attention to what remains of his fries and shrugs with one shoulder, "Um... well I've never watched a game with Buck, but he does always double the jars total when we donate it." Chimney really wants to push on the whole matter of Eddie's partner of 10 years never once watching a game with the kid, but he knows interrigating Chris (again) about Buck (who is off limits unless otherwise brought up) would probably put an end to Eddie and Chim's burgeoning friendship. So he goes for a joke, "He must live with soap in his mouth if your dad is to go by." Earning a full belly laugh from the teen and Chimney counts it as a major win when Eddie glances back with bright grin.

I feel like Eddie and Chim have the whole, I'm friends with you because of a Buckley and because we work together thing. So take away the Buckley and its a bit of an awkward friendship, which I wanted to highlight and improve. Hope you all enjoyed!!!! More NFL Buck can be found here.

Tagging (no pressure): @disasterbuckdiaz @elvensorceress @devirnis @lover-of-mine @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @jamespearce9-1-1 @giddyupbuck @malewifediaz @hippolotamus @thewolvesof1998 @jeeyuns @911onabc @911-on-abc @bekkachaos @loserdiaz @hoodie-buck @try-set-me-on-fire @spotsandsocks @theotherbuckley @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @eowon @honestlydarkprincess @eddiescowboy @vampbuckley @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @arthursdent @glorious-spoon @buddierights @athenagranted @prosperdemeter2 @gayedmundodiaz

#seven sentence sunday #tag game #my wip #911 abc #911 on abc #911 show #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #chimney han #christopher diaz #hen wilson #bobby nash #nfl #la rams #quarterback buck #firefighter eddie #secret relationship #eddie and chim friendship #awkward friends #swear jar #christopher diaz is a treasure #eddie makes friends #eddie is buck's biggest fan

[positivexcellence]

EXCLUSIVES INTERVIEWS How Jared Padalecki Changed From A Gilmore Girls Kid To Walker Season 4's Father - Exclusive Interview

"Walker" is now in its fourth season. What about the show, and also the character of Cordell, has made you want to keep coming back year after year?

Well, so many things. But I think to answer your second question first, what I love about the character of Cordell Walker and what he is going through is that it feels, though very different, very similar to my own life. I mean, I am a father. This is the first chance I've ever had to play a father. So selfishly, I love exploring what that looks like. Our writers have been so diligent about making this show as honest as possible. I hope I don't sound like I'm disparaging the OG "Walker, Texas Ranger" in any way, shape, or form, but this is not a martial arts show as much as it's a human being show about adulting and about having relationships and having troubles, and things are dirty and messy and there's not always an easy fix. 

It's not necessarily get the bad guy and everything's good for the week. It's sort of like, get the bad guy, but in the process of getting the bad guy, you ignored your daughter, so how do you fix that? Or in the process of getting the bad guy, you skipped out on your son. Or in the process of getting the bad guy, you locked yourself in your room for three weeks straight and weren't available to anybody, and now you have some relationships to repair. So it's much more similar, in my opinion, to life. Life as I know it, at least.

And to answer your first question about Season 4, I'm really excited. We haven't really explored past traumas in the sense of the Ranger world. And so we have this serial killer, the Jackal, and it's very clear that the Jackal — before Captain James (Coby Bell) was captain, he was just Ranger, and Ranger James and Ranger Walker were partners — he really terrorized these guys, specifically Ranger James, then Captain James. And Season 4 has been a great kind of dark dive into what someone can do to you psychologically when it seems like they're playing with your emotions, and they're one step ahead of you all the time, and you just can't save those around you when your job is to protect and serve.

"Walker" is your first dive into the world of executive producing. What has that been like for you? 

My trailer's bigger, I get to tell people what to do. [laughs] By the final seasons of a show I did before "Walker" called "Supernatural," Jensen Ackles and I both had a say in the storylines and in the scripts and the blocking. And then, to quote the Bard, "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." We weren't executive producers by any means, we weren't involved in all the meetings that artists aren't necessarily usually involved with, but we were so passionate about our characters and about the story and about the canon and about the cast and crew that our vote was counted, even though we were never producers on "Supernatural." 

With "Supernatural," I think the executive producers were able to see through 10 years of example that Jensen and I cared about the story and the script and the characters, not about like, "Hey, it'd be cool if I took my shirt off. Hey, it'd be cool if I had leather pants and a motorcycle." They knew that we were doing what was best for the character. And so I think when you come in as the EP, that's assumed, and so that kind of bridge has already been passed, that speed bump has already been navigated. That's been wonderful. 

I have a wonderful relationship with ["Walker" creator] Anna Fricke. Funny enough, her husband Jeremy Carver was executive producer and showrunner of "Supernatural" for many years, and that's how she and I first met. And from day one, she and I have just been on the same page. We just talked this morning, as a matter of fact, about the finale that we're shooting right now. And so it's been nicely passionate. I think what I've found in my 20-something years in the industry is that, as an actor, what happens between action and cut doesn't really interest me all that much. It's fun. But what I'm interested in is being home with a script, with the puzzle of how does this work? Where does this not work? How can this work better? What else could we do? 

So to be a partner and trying to determine what storylines are most poignant and most pertinent along the way, and what works best for each character has been really special and I'm really excited about it. And even learning a lot about what happens, quote-unquote "behind the scenes," some of which is kind of unnecessary for me to know. "Well, hey, this location's going to cost $1,000, but this is going to be $1,200." I'm like, "Okay, well, what's better?"

I was a kid that spent time in my room building Legos, much like my middle son. I was just so fascinated by the way things work. And I think, frankly, for certain actors, that informs their performance as well, knowing everything that went into why a scene has to be a certain way. I can recall on "Gilmore Girls" or "Supernatural" reading a scene and going, "Well, wouldn't it be a lot better if we did this instead?" And now having been EP for years, I can read a scene and go like, "Oh, I know why this is inside, not outside. Oh, I know why they just push each other and don't get into a full-on fight. Oh, I know why this person has lines, or this one doesn't." So it kind of helps complete the puzzle, so to speak. 

Speaking of "Supernatural," you've had some really big roles in your career, like Sam, and Dean on "Gilmore Girls," obviously.

OG Dean! I like to say OG Dean because Jensen was Dean on "Supernatural," but I'd already been Dean on "Gilmore Girls" for five years. So I like to try and kind of wink and nod. 

What does it mean to have those fans that started with you on "Gilmore Girls" also embracing this newer character of Walker?

I can't put into words how grateful I am that people have enjoyed the work I do. And funny enough, even though it's scripted television, I feel like my work and career have been kind of like a journal. On "Gilmore Girls," I did the pilot when I was 17 years old and I was a kid fresh out of San Antonio, Texas, where the only apartment I could afford, the door didn't lock. It was in the parking lot of a liquor store. And then I grew up a little bit. And then at 22, I started "Supernatural" and I was still essentially a kid. But during "Supernatural," I became more of a man and an adult and a husband and then a father. And now on "Walker," I'm a father. And so it's really life imitates art. 

And so the idea that people have taken the time to listen to me, I feel listened to. Which is ironic because I'm playing characters. This isn't a documentary by any means. But I'm flattered and I hope they all understand that I would not be here able to tell stories if it weren't for them, period. 

Is there anything that you want the fans to know before they watch the "Walker" Season 4 premiere?

Yeah, we have a shortened season. We have 13 episodes. Jensen and I used to joke when we were doing a 23-episode season of "Supernatural," you're not going to win them all. If you go up to bat 23 times, you're not going to hit home runs every time. If you shoot 23 three-pointers, you're not going to make them all. But with 13 episodes, each one is wham, bam, don't miss, don't blink, don't walk away. We're bringing a lot of awesome, incredible, high-stakes stuff the audience's way, and I can't wait to watch alongside them. 

Looper

#walker #jared padalecki

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 4/2/2024

in which i try to clean two different boxes with varying success

new people: hello! the tuesdaypost is a weekly roundup of stuff i've been listening, reading, watching, playing, and making. it is NOT a recommendation series, although i sometimes dabble in critique. when im firing on all cylinders i ask "what is the core concept of this? does it succeed in what i think it's trying to do and what it says it's doing?is it well-made but i dislike it/beautiful but not for me? why? what parts Really Work?"

if you are into purity culture, yelling at other people about the problematic media they consume, or are under 18 i am going to have very little patience for you.

listening

now that i live in houston i am legally obliged to loop the new beyonce album 24/7. there is absolutely truly nobody fucking doing it like her. every song is a multimedia art piece. goddamn do i miss the album as a tool to convey a specific concept/listening order/flow. sometimes (chappell roan most recently comes to mind, although it does feel unfair to compare anyone to beyonce) every individual song is pretty good but the listening experience if you sit down and listen all the way through the album is unpleasant and choppy. not so here. NEVER here.

my favorite like Dance Number is YA YA (it samples nancy sinatra's boots! and the beach boys' good vibrations! wildly different tones despite coming out a year apart!)

the one that goes on four different character/tone playlists is BODYGUARD.

great early roundup of influences, samples, and collaborators. delighted to see five fingers for marseilles listed, a rocky but underrated south african neo-western free on tubi rn for americans

-

reading

also very texas-relevant with the recent pornhub lawsuits! pornhub and sex tech (among other things) have been samantha cole's beat for almost ten years. i trust her to report sensitively and not for like. shock clicks

this site has a free paywall (sign up with your email for a link to the full article) so bots have a harder time scraping articles: this is a journalist-founded site with only the four founders running it and writing articles. while annoying i do think this is a reasonable measure

The platform still has problems, but after years of critical reporting and a litany of legal and reputational consequences, Pornhub is now more heavily moderated than any other porn platform, and most major social media platforms, for that matter. A growing list of age verification laws has put Pornhub in a position where it is compelled to block access to its site in seven states and counting. In theory, these laws are designed to prevent children from being able to access pornography online. In reality, what is going to happen is that children are going to end up on pornographic sites that don’t care what the law says, and where some of the most harmful content that exists online is actively promoted to them.

she's also got a new limited series podcast with CBC about the rise and fall of pornhub, which was fascinating and kept me company during an extremely early morning drive

-

watching

i'm lukewarm about this one but i spend a lot of time getting there, much like this movie

ive been watching a lot of frankly dogshit thrillers, which has made me wonder: what's the deal with supervillans? where did they come from? and thence arrived at the prototypical film Dr Mabuse the Gambler (1922, dir. Lang). the four and a half hour cut on Kanopy is two normal-length movies superglued together, which makes sense as a streaming product but it is sort of a terrifying runtime and took me three days to get through.

sometimes, as we know, i get a real bee in my bonnet about visiting the early versions of things. dr mabuse is the blueprint for every james bond and mission impossible villain, or really any shadowy supervillain with power over [INDUSTRY] or [THE MARKET]. it is a four and a half hour long cat and mouse game through lavish, eccentric sets between mabuse and prosecutor wenk. it has some trouble sustaining itself bc it is four and a half hours long but does deliver on the cat and mouse aspects. this letterboxed review has interesting things to say about the political climate of 1922 germany and how lang subverts the formula of the pulp serial.

really the film opens with mabuse yelling at his cocaine-addicted assistant, but the film properly gets going with mabuse's henchmen stealing a trade agreement (nothing really carbon dates a movie more than a missing trade agreement. vanishingly few post-early-30s movies have missing trade agreements as plot points) and then he crashes the stock market. for fun and profit.

however. i think every time you see an evil man who is a banker or stockbroker or generally uses money as power you have to interrogate whether it's antisemitic. the answer here is "maybe" but i'm not sure if intent matters when contemporary nazi critics were eager to hold mabuse up as "this is the typical jewish criminal". (sorry about the link directly to wikipedia, it's been touch finding online sources for this section). mabuse is not specifically jewish, but there are certainly elements of stereotype. i am still not good at being presented with "this movie has a shadowy behind the scenes figure manipulating the government and all the money ever" and going "hey wait a minute".

after that tremendous glaring caveat, for which i read more contemporary reviews and reviews in general than i ever read for movies in these posts, is it good? eh. a contemporary VARIETY review remarked (and i largely agree)

The direction of Fritz Lang has moments – but Lang somewhat negates his good technical effects by twenty forty-word captions of a ludicrous unconciseness.

the night scenes are particularly well done, and imo are better than many modern night scenes--other contemporary reviews remarked

In this film the techniques of the film camera (Carl Hoffmann’s brilliant photography) are brought to perfection. The problem of how to film lit-up streets at night has been solved for the first time. It is unbelievably impressive to see the glaring lights of speeding cars flash through the night or the rapid passing of an elevated train of the initially blurred, then gradually focussed glimpse through a pair of opera glasses on to the variety stage, the nuances of light and shade—these things alone prove the value of film documentary.

look at this shit! filmed from within the cars! in 1922!!!

this film asks you to believe hypnotism is real and really effective, so i don't think it's that big of a leap when it asks you to believe in ghosts. i don't understand that quibble from contemporary viewers. there are several on screen suicides with like. specific methods. which is not currently regarded as good filmmaking practice. im curious to know what contemporary audiences thought but couldn't immediately turn anything up, and wading through masters’ theses on cinematic suicide is a little beyond my current mental health.

if i were a more content-minded woman this would turn into a clickbait video essay about the antisemitic origins of every supervillan. however i am unqualified and untalented at video editing and i'm sure there are forty theses on this already. this movie is a hard sell to anyone jewish or employed. it is also a stunning example of cutting-edge film technology and part of the genesis of the modern supervillan. Fritz Lang films tend to fall in the category of “movies i am happy to see once and feel no need to revisit”.

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playing

playing what is effectively the same game three times back to back (breath of the wild, tears of the kingdom, genshin impact) has sort of burned me out on open world games with a focus on battle skill progression and stumbling across little puzzles in the overworld. i have to get itch.io up and running on this pc and find the most linear jankiest possible one-sitting indie thing. or several of them. i might try the solo ttrpg Gentleman Bandit i seem to have acquired in one of the giant charity bundles

brief breath of the wild update bc i don't want to pull screenshots off my switch: i have gotten to the boss fight for the gerudo and goron regions, have not completed them bc my focus in this game is NOT hearts, and am in the middle of the zora temple. despite the quality of life improvements and new regions in totk i think i prefer botw: progression is a bit easier, there are fewer mmo-style hub quests and repeatable quests. things like the stable photos are cute but very repetitive, so are the sign bracing puzzles, and the sky crystal quests for sky shrines feel VERY samey. also dislike how the CLEAR OUT: [REGION] quests with the monster suppression squads reset at the blood moon.

anyway! to genshin! there was an exceptionally fun little event with a surprisingly involved management sim tacked onto the game??? you make and sell potions fulfilling different requirements, and can eventually stock travelling merchants all over the continent. the actual act of making the potions was this block-filling 1010! style thing (screenshot from polygon)

the new region, a port town and tea-growing area called Chenyu Vale, is maybe the prettiest one in the game so far? it's the one that feels the most picturesque and Designed, like this is one huge mansion garden studded with follies. they also added background chatter and noise in the cities and towns, which really startled me and makes them feels much more lived in! this is a fun trick to avoid putting in a thousand NPCs and making everyone's framerate crash. the less stuff in your game, the less shit can go wrong.

also pulled for and got chiyori, a geo-aligned seamstress (and sometime spy???) swordswoman who has what i can only call domme voice

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making

ok now we'll talk about boxes. i was rearranging my kitchen, as unemployed women are known to do, and noticed this recipe box i picked up back in mass was disgusting. the finish is starting to fail but it was genuinely grody and last summer i packed my kitchen in a blind panic inside an hour and did not have time to address it. i have never seen a recipe box at an estate sale before or since and it made me desperately sad.

it was full of a lot of stuff.

i went at it with a somewhat inadvisable combination of things: wood soap didn't budge it, so i dampened a paper towel in vinegar and wiped it down in the vain hope it would do something. the thing that worked, and would be inadvisable for anything veneered or less densely textured, was baking soda paste and the scrubby side of a sponge. it still smells Very musty even after 48h of loose baking soda inside with several changes, but that might be partly the recipe cards' fault. i would like to refinish this at some point but i don't have polyurethane on hand and the fun little project budget is empty until further notice/i get a job.

the hinge did rust a bit despite my best efforts but that has since been lightly steel wooled and oiled. a well loved object! it's possible the lady who died just fucking sucked and that's why literally her entire estate including many other things families usually keep was on sale, but i would like to think perhaps she simply had no other family? a well loved/used object even if all the recipes are for semi-horrifying fifties new england recipes.

the other box, pre-acids but post-washing: this topp trading card box with seven episode one packets of cards was intact with the original seal. i have verified it was not worth much more than the $5 i paid for it with the trading card obsessed man in my best friend's husband's friendgroup. i bought this three months ago but the man was unavailable to open it until uhhh last week. some sort of liquid got inside it at some point and it was super corroded. i was going to store embroidery floss in here but even with all my powers (barkeepers friend. brasso.) i cannot completely remove the corrosion. it's not corroded Through but it looks bad and feels rough. so it goes. it'll probably hold the tiedown straps in my car bc that plastic bucket is rapidly failing

#aaaaaaand we're back baybee!!! #tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #uncharacteristically nervous about this one since there are so many new people haha

[jenniferjareauwife]

Surprise

pairing: jennifer jareau x cowgirl fem reader

category: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

word count: 865

summary: 4th part to its a datemoving in with jj has caused you to get a little homesick but she's there to help

I had decided to move to DC with JJ. It was the best for both of us. She couldn't give up her job and my mental health would be better in DC, where I was more accepted. I had only lived here for about a month and it was going great, I got to see the love of my life everyday and get unlimited kisses and cuddles. The sex was even better too. It was also more inclusive. There weren't as many slurs or discrimination up here than there was in Texas.

Even though it was so much better than my hometown I still missed my old home. I loved waking up to the sun rising, not cars honking in the streets. And I liked seeing my animals everyday. I couldn't do that here. It was amazing waking up next to JJ everyday but there were somethings Texas had that DC lacked. "Baby?" My girlfriend poked my cheek as she saw me lost in thought. "You ok? You look like you're thinking a bit too hard there."

"Yeah I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

"I'm gonna head to the coffee place down the street. You want anything?"

"Bagel sandwich please." She smiled before leaning down to press a kiss on the top of my head.

"You got it."

She came back 20 minutes later, giving me my bagel sandwich. I didn't eat it though. I wasn't in the mood. "Honey?" I asked quietly.

"Mhm?"

"Can we cuddle?"

"I think I can do you one better." She grabbed her car keys again. "Let's go."

"Go where?"

"It's a surprise. Come on." She put her hand on my lower back and led me out the apartment door.

"Jayje I want to stay home." She smiled, loving how I already called it home. It did feel like home. Since the first time I visited her and woke up in her bed, saw her get ready for work in the morning. It was home.

"You'll like this place better. I promise." I frowned but I trusted her.

The car ride wasn't super long, just 20 minutes. We were driving out of DC and surprisingly, there was a lot of country. This looked more like home. "Where are we going?" I asked again.

"It's a surprise baby." She rested her hand on my upper thigh, playing with the frays of my jean shorts. I put my hand over hers and squeezed it. "I want you to be happy here."

"I am happy here. I wouldn't have decided to move here if I didn't want to JJ."

"I know. I'm just saying...it's natural to feel homesick, and it's ok if you're homesick. I just want you to come to me about it instead of acting like everything's ok."

"I'm sorry." I whispered. "I just thought you might get offended."

"We've been together seven months. I wouldn't be offended if you were homesick." She laughed and the car stopped. I looked straight ahead. We were at a farm.

"There are farms in DC?"

"This isn't DC silly." She laughed. "I didn't know you were this clueless about DC geography, Texas." I blushed at the nickname.

"Well I've only lived here for a month and I've only traveled a few blocks from the apartment. Don't judge me."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes and squeezed my thigh. I got out of the car, my eyes widening when I saw horses.

"Can I go?"

"Yeah baby. You can do whatever you want." She laughed as I ran up to one of the horses, petting its head before hugging its neck. JJ stayed a few steps back, watching with a huge smile on her face.

"Honey come here!"

"No...I'm good."

"Please?" I gave her my best puppy eyes and she couldn't help but give in. She came up behind me and gave me a hug. "Give the horse a hug."

"Baby I'm not comfortable with that."

"But they're so comforting. Look how calm he is! Please. Just a little hug."

"Ok. Fine. Only because I love you." She have my bare shoulder a kiss before moving around to his other side, hugging him loosely."

"Isn't it comforting?" I rested my head against his neck.

"Yeah." She admitted. "I like your hugs better though." I giggled.

"Yeah. My hugs are pretty great." I looked all around, seeing how much land was around. It reminded me of my ranch back in Texas."

"You ok?" JJ asked quietly, walking back over to me and giving me another hug.

"Mhm." She kissed my cheek and my jaw. "It reminds me of Texas. I miss it." I turned my head to peck her lips.

"I know you miss it my love and it's ok to miss it." She rubbed my back.

"We should go home...before I get too attached to this cutie." JJ laughed.

"You mean me, right?"

"No."

"You didn't even hesitate." She backed away.

"Sorry."

"You're definitely not sorry." I laughed and jogged over to her, kissing her gently on the lips.

"Let's go home." I whispered, wrapping my arms around her waist.

"I love you." She pressed a kiss to my forehead, rubbing my back.

"I love you too."

#x reader #criminal minds #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #wlw post #lgbtq #jennifer jareau x you