#now there's also. a secret game at play here (there are always games. doctor) and its actually between garak and his own self

[chitinleg]

"Mister Bashir, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you."

Julian, why in god's name would you invite him to play the villain?

#my art #ds9 #julian bashir #elim garak #star trek deep space nine #garashir #image desc in alt text #pencil #ok so on the outset it may look to some viewers as though julian invited garak to play the villain to get dommed by the scary lizard #this is not the case. not in my heart #in my heart julian felt a burst of something funny when Garak asked him ''what if you'd killed me'' #and he responded ''what makes you think i wasn't trying'' and garaks face blooms into a sudden understanding and respect. ooh. #That's that heady shit. catching garak off guard. ooooh. that's that High Quality Endorphins Happening. but. gotta pack that up for later #(he will not unpack that later) because garak also just threatened to kill 5 of his friends who are STILL IN DANGER. NO TIME FOR THIS. #so after everything. and MONTHS after OMB. he invites garak to something like a playful rematch. sort of. #after all theres only so long that garak can stomach being a sidekick u know? he needs to be able to do his own machinations. #so they make a character for him thats a villain. a little more cerebral than falcon. a little more ambiguous in his motivations. #now there's also. a secret game at play here (there are always games. doctor) and its actually between garak and his own self #you see garak Also wants bashir to defeat his character. he also wants to be shocked. challenged. a little dismantled even (state forbid!) #and because garak wants that for himself? hes going to fight tooth and fucking nail to make sure it doesn't happen. #that Gayle clip from ''COMPANY IS COMING'' but its garak yelling ''WE CAN'T LET THEM KNOW WE [WANT]!!!'' #and its a horrible idea for both of them but. oh so so exciting #you understand. #these rituals arent intricate so much as they are transparent but all encompassing. a fish doesnt know its swimming in water until its out #you understand? you understand. #thank you to anyone who found the time to read these tags i hope you enjoyed yourself and/or found what you were looking for #also garak is dressed so boring bc hes hiding himself u know how it is

[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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#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #wheresarizona writes #september series #the last of us #hbo the last of us

[kingofthe-egirls]

For your dark kink and fave may I submit Law and age play? I think he’d secretly like stuff like that with his partner wearing cute dresses and acting dumb

i love age play im not even sorry

Shadow Work (follower request event!)

SWEET SPOTS: LAW x Y/N

also this is sorta for @thus-spoke-lo so i hope u like it!

(cw: Lolita nickname, age play, use of devil fruit, daddy/doctor pet names used, spanking, haki, cunnilingus, fingering, sweettalk, kissing, aftercare)

(a/n: should i say "name-ya" for when Law says ur name? idk lol)

Songs: "Kinda Famous" by Peach PRC, "Sex Yeah" by Marina and the Diamonds

words: 1.5k

"Hey, daddy."

You stroll into the room casually, frilly pink dress swishing as you sit down on Law's bed.

He looks up from his desk, paperwork still in hand. "Room," he says, and then, "Shambles." You sift through the air, suddenly straddling Law's lap. He's leering at you, papers already forgotten as he grabs your hips. He shifts you back and forth on his lap, already hard.

"Lolita," he says, "Have you been feeling lonely, my love?"

You nod, pouting. You lace your fingers behind his neck, playing with the soft hairs at his nape. "Doctor's been so busy..."

Law smirks. "Well, I have a bit of time now. What would you like, dearest?" He always uses sweettalk like it's a weapon. It sounds cold, calculated, coming from Law's sneering mouth.

HIs condescension is addictive.

"Sweet spots?"

It's your favorite game.

Law grins, pushing his chair back to give you both more room. You bounce on his lap, slightly. The swishy skirt of your babydoll dress folds over your legs, riding up your plush thighs. He grips them, pressing long fingers into the sensitive skin. His tattoos glow under the orange lamplight. You stick out your lower lip.

"Show me my sweet spots, Doctor? Please?"

Law's eyes glint with fire, something harsh and cold even in the warm atmosphere. His hands tighten around your hips.

"Of course, sweetest," he murmurs, tracing one long finger up and down your upper thigh. "Here," he starts, tilting his head. His hair is scruffy and dark, his hat forgotten along with the paperwork on his desk. He brushes his thumb over your inner thigh. "Is quite sensitive, isn't it, Lolita?"

His name for you (a secret between you) sends sparks shivering down your spine. He traces circles on your soft, fleshy thigh. You moan behind pouty lips. "Yes, Doctor."

"And here," he abandons your shivering thigh to start pulling at the lacey strings of your dress's soft bodice. It has puffy sleeves, hanging down over your shoulders, revealing your cleavage with a sweetheart neckline. It's pink, and white, and chiffon.

Law traces the neckline of your dress, skimming his steady fingers over your fluttering chest. "Is where Doctor loves to tease you, isn't that right? So sweet for me, Lolita."

You whine, wanting more.

"More, please."

Law tuts, shaking his head. "So impatient, sweetheart. Does daddy need to punish you?" He arches an eyebrow, meeting your gaze with deadly seriousness. His eyes are the color of flint.

You whine, bouncing on his lap again. "Maybe...," you pout, slapping his shoulder softly. Law grins--an evil, malicious thing--and sparks shoot through you again. He shambles you again, this time switching places with the papers he left on his bed.

You're upside down, with your legs spread. Ass in the air, dress already folded up over your back to reveal the fact you didn't add any panties to your little sweetheart ensemble.

"Such a naughty girl," he chides.

Law's hands are sure and swift as they land a stinging slap onto the exposed flesh of your rear. You squeak, half in pleasure, half in surprise. Law soothes his hand over the stinging handprint, cooing softly as he murmurs over you. "Such a pretty thing," he shushes you, still whimpering on his bed. He slaps you again, this time much harder. He lands two more, still on the same place he spanked you the first time. You're gonna be sore in the morning.

"Ten," Law counts, slapping your other ass cheek. You squirm, hands gathered under your chest. Your face is pressed into the mattress, hair slightly covering your eyes. You can see Law's grin through the strands. He's biting his lower lip, flush spread on his scruffy cheeks.

"Nine."

He alternates slaps to either side of your stinging ass, not giving you any time to recover between each spank.

"Eight, seven, six."

He's grunting out the numbers, thrusting his hips slightly, just for the friction in his jeans. His sleeves are rolled up, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his sculpted chest. His abs clench with every swing.

"Sweetheart," he coos, halfway through, "Taking it so fucking good for me. Five."

He spanks you harsh this time, squeezing his fingers tight into the flesh of your ass. It's stinging in earnest now, and you whine.

"Four."

Ow.

"Three."

Fuck.

"Two."

Gonna--

"One."

With a gasping shriek, you cum from Law's delectable punishment. Law coos and sweettalks you through it, soothing his hands over your aching ass cheeks. "Such a sweet little slut for me."

"Law...," you croon, rocking your hips back and forth in midair. "Sweet spots again?"

Law chuckles, loving your neediness, and you hear the sound of his zipper being pulled down. You crane your neck, sitting up slightly in the soft, downy comforter strewn across his captain's bed.

"So desperate for me, aren't you, hm?" He's shrugging off his shirt, revealing tanned muscles emblazoned with his signature heart tattoo. He's your captain, your lover, your best friend.

"Love you, daddy."

He softens, slightly, flint eyes now turned to the soft, warm grey of a kitten's striped fur. You wiggle your ass, feeling the fat of it jiggle. He groans. "Such a good ass for me, huh baby? You like when I play with you like this?" His voice is husky, heavy with need.

"Uh huh!"

"Good girl."

Law stalks back toward you. Like a snow leopard stalking prey, he growls lowly in his chest. He's gonna pounce, and soon. He skims his fingertips over your already soaking folds, slick dripping down your thighs. He plays with it, sliding his fingers back and forth over your slit, before pulling away to examine the glistening shine on his hand.

"Slut," he praises you, and your breath quickens in your fluttering chest. He slurps at your juices, eyes rolling back in his head as he tastes you on his tongue. "Sweetest spot of all," he says, kneeling down behind you and out of view. You bury your face in the mattress, preparing yourself for what comes next.

"Is right here, baby."

He sucks on your clit, and sweetly. His lips are soft, with just the slightest scratch of his stubble. You squirm, already pulsing and clenching with need for more. Your first orgasm is never enough.

"Sweetheart," he gasps, sounds of skin slapping skin coming from behind you as he fucks his fist in time with his licks. "Such a sweet girl for, such a pretty girl--,"

"Law!" you squeal, rubbing backwards into his face. He speeds up, adding two fingers to pet at your entrance. He pushes them in slowly, starting to pick up the pace as he thrusts into his hand. You clutch the blankets in both fists. You're rocking back on his fingers, letting him slurp and suck at your clit like he's making out with it.

Your thighs shake, twitching uncontrollably as your doctor plays with you. Law is grunting and gasping, swiftly approaching his own high as he pleasures his baby girl. "Cum for me," he commands, hardening his fingers with Armament Haki. You shriek, covering your mouth with a fold of the blanket. Your face is buried in the bed, all senses shut out except for Law's fingers, his tongue, his snarling voice.

"I said cum."

The captain of the Heart Pirates crooks his fingers up into you, swiftly pulsing at your g-spot. He flutters them, stretches them, scissoring in and out of you as you gasp and writhe beneath his touch. So close, so close, so close, please fuck yes daddy, doctor--

"'M cumming!"

You cum with a prismatic shiver down your spine, squirting out your juices onto his bed. "S-sorry," you mumble, face heating up with shame.

Law giggles like a little kid, leaning forward to place messy kisses all along your pussy. His hands are spreading your ass cheeks apart as he coos and sweettalks your dripping ache. "So good for me, baby, don't be sorry. You did such a good job for Doctor."

"Th-thanks, daddy."

Law stands up, sliding his hand down your back. He soothes your shoulders, brushing your hair back from your face. You see him smiling down at you in kindness, in love, in adoration. He leans forward to kiss your cheek. "Love you, Lo."

You smile, turning your face into the mattress. Your body is twitchy, achey, and you want nothing more than for him to hold you. He slides into bed beside you, helping guide you into sitting up. He sits behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You rock together, slightly.

"Sweet spots is a good game," you sigh, leaning your head back on his solid chest. He scritches through your hair playfully. You hum, taking in the deepest breath you've taken all day. Law clears his throat.

"Sweetheart?" He asks, voice suddenly shy, "D'ya...d'ya love me, too?"

You gasp, swiftly turning around in his arms. "Love you, Law!!!" You cover his face in kisses, making up for the fact that you didn't say it back right away. You know he's self conscious, know he's nervous, know he's never played like this with anyone else. You're special, so special, and he reminds you as often as he can.

"So much."

Law sighs, finally relaxing into the bed. He tilts his head back, letting it hit the wall. His face is serene. You trace his cheekbones with your third finger. They're flushed, slightly rough.

"Good job, daddy."

He smirks.

#this is so self indulgent #law #law smut #trafalgar law #trafalgar law smut #one piece fic #one piece smut #law x you #law x reader #hehehehe #shadow work #request #follower event #dumpster dive #my writing #kitty writes

[erraticalart]

Saw Fortress II

Well, is this what you've been waiting for?

So, as some of you may or may not know, Saw is getting a new movie, Saw X, in two days and I'm so excited for it to come out! I decided to pay tribute to this movie by making a crossover between Saw and, of course, Team Fortress 2. I've been getting interested and invested in the Saw franchise, from its story to the characters and especially the creative but deadly traps. Took me about 22 days to create as I had classes and needed to take breaks every once in a while, but I finally finished it and presented it to my brother as a birthday gift (as well as an official Fallout cookbook).

Now, for the fans of both Saw and TF2, I'll explain the reason why I chose the characters and their designated roles. It's time to play a game.

Character Comparison and Roles

Warning: Spoilers for the Saw franchise

RED Engineer: John Kramer aka Jigsaw - Well it's pretty much obvious why. They're both engineers. They both are talented in creating many different unique contraptions that are beneficial, but deadly and dangerous. Engie also has his morals, although it's way different from John's. Let's not forget that Engie can be somewhat a little sadistic and loves seeing his enemies go down, although John hates sadistic people despite the irony in his traps. Also, are we gonna ignore his Gunslinger taunt kill and his sinister, evil laugh? I'm not sure if Engie should have the Gunslinger with him, but I think it would be pretty cool to have it on him. Maybe in this version when he attempts to commit suicide and fails, but all he's left is a completely maimed hand, he cuts it off entirely and replaces it. It would be a pretty cool backstory as to why he has it and would make a really cool reveal to show to the audience. I wonder what Engie sounds like saying the iconic line "Game Over"?

BLU Medic: Dr. Lawrence Gordon - It's also pretty obvious why. He's a doctor. (Can you guess the reference?) Dr. Gordon is my favorite character in the series, and I love seeing the change and progress in his character from a doctor and trap victim in the first Saw film to John's favorable accomplice and in his words, "My greatest asset" in Saw 3D/Saw: The Final Chapter/ Saw VII (Yeah, I can't believe that movie has multiple names). In a way, it makes sense to have Medic as Dr. Gordon because just like how it was shown at the end of Saw VII that he and John worked great together, Medic and Engie are also seen working together in Expiration Date as lab partners. They both would work great as an amazing sadistic duo. Also, I think it's kind of cute to have Engie give Medic a prosthetic foot after he too cuts it off entirely. Not only would it make sense because Engie knows a thing or two about prosthetics, but it would show that Medic and Engie both have something in common: cut off what's unnecessary to help with your survival. Medic would also try to justify and reason Engie's actions. Also, I love Dr. Gordon's "Game Over" line, it's soooooo good!!! It's my personal favorite (Of course nothing beats John's iconic classic version). I could totally imagine how great Medic would sound saying that line!

BLU Spy: Detective Lieutenant Mark Hoffman - Ok, this is where things start to get a little interesting. Hoffman became John's accomplice after replicating his ideas and making his own traps that John never made himself. In a way, he's becoming Jigsaw. Just like how Spy can become and replicate any class, Hoffman also became more mysterious and secretive to his fellow colleagues and tried to frame Special Agent Peter Strahm as Jigsaw. In the end, when he gets caught, he goes against everyone and executes them, so the secret never comes out. Also, another reason why Spy is Hoffman and please tell me if I'm not the only one here who thought this when watching Saw: Did anyone else get Hoffman and Strahm mixed up because they almost look like the same person and it's always confusing when there's a scene that focuses on one of them but it's actually the other? I decided to have two Spies in the story with the BLU Spy as Hoffman and the RED Spy as Strahm since they look the same minus the color.

Miss Pauling: Amanda Young - You're probably thinking, "Why her? Is it because she just so happens to be female and I just filled her in that role?" Well yes, but actually no. It's because Amanda was very loyal to John, looking up to him, defending him constantly, and was very close to him. Miss Pauling fits that role when it comes to the Administrator, but here she's loyal to Engie. I feel like she likes Engie the most out of any other class, so she would definitely help him out as well as get advice from him. She also can get shit done when being asked to accomplish a task. Sadly, we know what's to come for Amanda. Just like how in the comics Miss Pauling fails to bring the Australium, Amanda fails in John's tasks as he reveals to her that she's part of another game. I do feel like Miss Pauling was stuck playing around in the Administrator's game and it was also implied that every year the Administrator sends people to assassinate her to see if she succeeds as if it's an employee review. So, yeah, Miss Pauling and Amanda both are stuck in pretty tight situations.

RED Pyro: Billy the Puppet - Ah, yes, who could we ever forget? The main icon of the series. Both Pyro and Billy have terrifying appearances that'll leave you quivering on sleepless nights. I used to fear Billy as a kid, but now I see him as endearing and strangely, but freakishly, adorable. Pyro is freaky-looking, but he's such an adorable bundle of flames. I could definitely imagine seeing Pyro riding on Billy's iconic tricycle. That would be so funny, cute, and scary. As for Pyro's voice, since Billy is voiced by John (and Hoffman, I think? Idk), I'm not sure if Engie (or Spy) should voice Pyro since Pyro speaks in muffles. Maybe they should, idk. I also don't know if Pyro should speak in mumbles from time to time or whether he should have the ability to move and just walk around or just remain seated. And, of course, I don't know if Pyro should do his iconic laugh (maybe sometimes, idk). What I do know however is that Pyro should definitely have the iconic Billy laugh.

RED Balloonicorn/The Combustible Cutie Cosmetic (Yeah, I know it's pink, but it's the RED team's version which is why it's pink): Pighead Mask - Oink! Or in this case, Neigh! The mask that John and his accomplices dress up as with the iconic robe (though I'm not sure if this robe should remain red and black or pink and black, maybe the first option should be for Engie since he's the leader while the accomplices get the latter, or not, maybe they should match Engie, idk). At first, I chose Balloonicorn since it's related to Pyro and I know he'll love seeing everyone dress up as one, but then I remembered that there's a cosmetic for Pyro as a mask called "The Combustible Cutie" that resembles Balloonicorn, and boy does that mask look freaking scary!!! It's really fitting for both Saw and TF2 as a whole! It's pretty funny and scary to imagine getting kidnapped by a herd of pink unicorns all because you've been very naughty.

I hope fans of Saw and Team Fortress 2 enjoy this lovely piece of fanart as this has become one of my all-time favorites to create. I was also listening to the Saw soundtrack specifically the Zepp/Main Saw Themes. My favorite being, of course, "Hello Zepp". It fits Engie and John's character theme even though it's Zepp's (although you can argue that it IS John's since it's his perspective since he's saying hello, which I agree). But my actual favorite is "Zepp Overture" because to me it sounds like a holy church. I especially like the way the string instruments sound. Yeah, I know you can argue that Dr. Gordon has a theme at the end of Saw VII called "Dr. Gordon Montage" and "The Final Zepp" but to me, I think this theme fits Medic the best because, y'know, he replicates that sound by playing an actual saw when you taunt which is both funny and adorable. And it really fits his character to be seen as a holier-than-thou and especially a God. This might also fit Spy, but idk. I'm not sure which themes work for Spy and Miss Pauling or even Pyro (if you want Pyro and Engie to share the same theme, then that's fine by me). I might need to go back and listen to all of them depending on the movies that Hoffman and Amanda appear in. Maybe some of you can suggest one. But anyway, please go listen to the Saw soundtrack, especially the Zepp/Main Saw Themes, it's soooooo good!!! I might as well argue that it's one of, if not, THE best horror themes out there!!!

Here's a link to listen to it while you look at the art or whether you are interested in the Saw series and its music:

Welp, like I said before, I hope you fans enjoy it!!! I just can't' wait for Saw X to come out soon on September 29!!! I just hope and pray the movie is good though. Well, let's just wait and see. But until then,

GAME OVER!

#tf2 engineer #tf2 engie #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #tf2 pyro #miss pauling #balloonicorn #tf2 balloonicorn #TF2 #Team Fortress 2 #TF2 Fanart #TF2 Art #jigsaw #john kramer #billy #billy the puppet #dr lawrence gordon #dr gordon #lawrence gordon #mark hoffman #amanda young #saw #saw x #saw franchise #saw movies #saw fanart #saw art

[myechoecho]

Perfect Marriage Revenge, ep 5

This was such a good episode.

Yi Joo was terrified for Do Guk. She hasn't quite stopped to think why that is, but she a desperate advocate for him at the hospital. She pulled a doctor away from a critical patient. When Do Guk is not in his bed, she is frantically looking for him.

She finds him and we get this moment:

She initiated the contact. She grabs his hand and wrist with BOTH of her hands. Yi Joo sleeps outside his door, on the sofa because she was so worried. She learns about his panic disorder from his doctor friend, whom I love and hope we see more of.

I adore how Yi Joo has won over Do Guk's family, by simply being herself. This episode had more to do with his grandmother. Yi Joo advises Tae Ja not to sully her good name and make sure she fully investigates the deal her father is making. Tae Ja helps get some information about her past and her grandfather. In the end, Tae Ja insists that Yi Joo call her grandmother. Yi Joo is so pleased about being accepted and it has nothing to do with her plans with Do Guk. As an orphan, it didn't escape her notice how the kids in the home reacted to Tae Ja or how Tae Ja reacted to them. Further, she ate with Tae Ja which is simply massive for her and shows what trust she has in Do Guk's grandmother. She has accepted his grandmother, just as much as she's accepted her.

One important thing to note - Yi Joo has never directly bad mouthed her family in front of Do Guk's. She doesn't completely ignore it but she lets her feelings be known in a different way. "I prefer not to meet with Yoo Ra", "Please do not call my mother for the wedding plans". This is in stark contrast to Yi Joo's family who trashes her in front of everyone.

As far as Yoo Ra is concerned, I'd say this is less her villain era and more her acting like her authentic self. She was always a villain, but masked it somewhat as her mother always had her back. She's simply not hiding it now since her mother is not getting her what she wants. I suspected that Yoo Ra and Junk Wook (note: Junk Wook was a typo that I have decided deserves to remain) would team up and it's looking like that will happen.

Jung Wook miscalculated with Yi Joo and she does not rise to his bait. She's not here to play his games or for his attempts to manipulate her. He also proves her point, when Do Guk shows up and Jung Wook admits that he told Do Guk about the meeting.

You know, I'm not mad Do Guk calling Yi Joo out and reinforcing the boundary that she's laid. She did meet with Jung Wook to find out more to help Do Guk. She knows that his brother is the reason he hates being home, cannot sleet and has panic attacks. But by doing this she has crossed a line that she imposed (separate lives). Do Guk is not unwilling to tell her but he warns her it will entangle them further and it will become more and more real. He knows she's not there yet and Yi Joo proves it by pushing him away. Do Guk is so disappointed and he has to draw another line in asking her not to touch him. It's a bit of self preservation.

Se Hyeok proves again how ugly a person he is. "how could you do this to meeeee?" he whines. Doesn't acknowledge WHY he was dumped and it's all about him. He basically says he hates her and hopes she'll be miserable. I appreciate how outside of making Se Hyeok keep his distance, Do Guk allow Yi Joo to control what she wants to do or say. It's only at the end that he says anything. For Yi Joo, I think she understands there's an element of truth to what Se Hyeok is saying (she doesn't looks excited or happy). But it also reinforces her decision.

I love how Do Duk paid attention to her in her wedding dress and said she was beautiful. Contrast to Se Hyeok who could barely look at her and was like whatever.

We found out what the secret Yi Joo's grandfather was hiding - Yi Joo father is actually her bio father. And I guess that the grandfather wanted to make up for the one child who died by making sure his granddaughter was in her family home. But that home turned out to be awful and I don't know why he didn't do more when she was a child. I also don't know how Yi Joo's mom knows the truth about Yi Joo's parentage. She's also clearly poisoning her husband. She was probably poisoning Yi Joo as well, but Yi Joo knew better and did not take the pills. It wouldn't surprise me if the mother had something to do with the grandfather being in the home.

Stray thought - what if the adoptive mom killed the bio mom so she could have the bio dad?? Considering this show, it would not be that wild a theory.

Any question about Do Guk being in the other car was answered. When he saw the drawing, he near on had another panic attack and could hear the crash over and over. He was 100% in the accident and transmigrated with Yi Joo.

Yi Joo must have run out of that closet in some sort of trauma and shock only to have the police find her. Do Gok tenderly he takes care of her. He tends to the wounds on her feet, puts her to bed, does not press her for details. But because he loves her, he cannot fully leave her and "crosses the line" to comfort her by just being beside her and patting her shoulder. No one has ever cared for her like this before.

We have a bit of a time jump and it's the wedding time. I gather that things might still be a bit weird between Yi Joo and Do Guk. I think that Yi Joo is still processing the information about her parentage.

But here comes her mother, saying she's not family and taunting her to try to be happy. Which really triggers Yi Joo to the point of wanting to smash a vase of flowers over her mother's head - which I assume it is who Do Guk stops her.

I've seen some comments that say Yi Joo is too weak, or flip flops too much. I think that this might be the point where any seemingly hesitation is gone. For me, it always made sense that Yi Joo looks like she's hesitating because she's going against years of conditioning, abuse and trauma. While she does have those moments, she always picks herself up and pushes back in her own way. When her mother and ex's mom stage that little play that throws her off, she then takes down her mother's forgery ring on her own, without any help from Do Guk. When Do Guk finds Yi Joo, Yoo Ra and his mom meeting, she does not automatically leave when he says so. No, she stays to say her piece and leaves when she's ready. So whatever may have been slightly holding her back, she's done with that now.

Side note: It is just me or are Do Guk and Yi Joo staring to wear the same/similar colours/patterns?

#perfect marriage revenge #kdrama

[toosexymommys]

Oh, I'm sorry if my outfit makes you uncomfortable honey... I was sure I'm all alone at home right now. Do you mind if I stay like this just for now, it's just so hot and the fabric feels so nice on my skin... Oh don't be silly, it's not so bad! it's just your old mommy's body, why would it even matter?

LOOKING FOR A ROLEPLAYING PARTNER! (please only approach me about roleplay after reading below:)

The roleplay revolves around mom having an impossible fantasy about incest with her son. Son is a moral and ethical person, who would never cross that line. Therefore, mom's strategy is to find ways to tease him in ever more seductive ways hoping that one day he'll brake and just rape her. So, she makes up false reasons, lies and excuses to provide a believable cover and plausible deniability for increasingly teasing and seductive activity like dressing, acting, talking and touching in incestuous ways - but always for some unrelated or mistaken reason. She must always keep her true intentions under the radar or she'll scare her reluctant son away.

As this goes on, son always verbally maintains his position of moral purity (e.g., "mom, are you sure this is necessary? I feel like this is crossing the line", or "careful mom I can see your X!"). However, he never physically stops his mother's actions, as he respects his mother and doesn't want to offend her. He refuses to believe that she would actually have perverted desires for him, so he prefers to believe her excuses, ridiculous as they may sometimes be.

On the other hand, it so happens that Son's moral objections and discomfort from his own attraction to his mother is exactly what mother lusts for and turns her on more than anything in the world - so the more he resists, the more turned on she becomes.

Clarifications:

At NO POINT in the roleplay do either mom or son admit to their incestuous desires for each other. The entire roleplay revolves around finding excuses, reasons and lies that mother uses to allow for increasingly perverted activity to happen. I didn't give examples for these reasons as all the fun is in coming up with them. The story can be modified in any way to make the reasons work, e.g. defining the circumstances (e.g., lockdown) professions (e.g., she's a physical therapist, doctor, or psychologist), etc.

With that in mind, so long as we come up with good excuses, things can go VERY far. In fact, given a good enough reason/excuse, even full sex can occur (but it does require some real creativity to come up with a seemingly non-incestuous, non-perverted reason why it's necessary for son to stick his penis in his mother pussy and thrust repeatedly. But it's not impossible!)

Bonus game which I also love: Husband/Father also has a secret mom-son incest fetish, and so he's the one coming up with fake reasons and excuses why mom and son need to see or touch each other in ways that would normally be considered perverted. In this game mom is (surprisingly) cooperative with fathers suggestions/requirements, and son is still the reluctant/moral/innocent "victim" of the situation, though he doesn't physically stop it and must comply with his parents wishes. It's also possible to have a daughter/Sister in a similar role to this Husband/father (that is - who loves mom/son incest). In any case, all erotica revolves around mom-son.

I don't mind playing either son or mom (or husband/dad, or sister/daughter). My favourite - we switch between the characters.

I'm not interested in passive partners who just expect me to do all the writing.

When I come online, it's usually around 10pm-1am CET (Europe), 4pm-7pm EST (US), 2am-5am India.

I'm not interested in any roleplay that doesn't follow these guidelines. So please ONLY ask me about roleplaying if you've read all of the above and you LIKE it (don't expect me to compromise about the above 6 rules). However, so long as we're keeping within these (admittedly stringent) boundaries, I'm open to any scenario.

you can send me a message here on Tumblr or by email/hangouts at [email protected]

If all of the above sounds good to you, we may be a rare and incredible match, so I definately would be thrilled to hear from you!

#hot mommy #mommy k!nk #domme mommy #mommy milkers #sugar mommy #son#cougar#mommy#sexy tease#cock tease#denial#seduction#seduce#seduce me#sensuality#intimate

[sl-newsie]

Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 1: Introductions

“You can’t keep me here! I demand a lawyer! I am an associate of the Hell’s Gate Psychiatric Institution and will not tolerate this denial of justice!”

The security guard bangs his baton against the bars again. “Quiet, Prentiss! You’re lucky you get your own cell. Or would you rather have to share?”

My gaze throws daggers. “I’ll have you know that I am perfectly sane and do not belong in this asylum. I will not cooperate until I speak to a lawyer.”

“That’s too bad,” the guard taunts. “‘Cause I got strict orders not to allow you any visitors.”

I gawk at his idiotic face. “On whose authority?”

“You’ll meet him once his current session is over,” he says as he walks down the hall away from my cell. "I think it’s with Croc if I’m not mistaken.”

Croc? As in Killer Croc? God, why didn’t I just play the game? Why did I have to go beyond my jurisdiction? I already knew Gotham was a rigged and twisted system the second I got here. I’ve gone from a respected psychiatrist to the very type of person I’m supposed to be above. Now all I have to my name is an orange jumpsuit, a pair of cheap sneakers, a toothbrush, and a small copy of the Bible. 

How long have I been waiting? There’s no clock, no windows. No clue to anything happening outside. All I see are beige hallways spanned into a webbed labyrinth that’s meant to keep patients from escaping. Keep me from escaping.

Thud-thud. Thud-thud.

Muffled footsteps echo down through the hall, potentially signaling my approaching contact. At first my heart soars at the hope of finally talking to someone in authority who can get me out; yet as the footsteps grow louder there’s something about them that sends a chill down my spine. It can’t be him. God, I hope it’s not him-

It’s him.

I’ve heard rumors of the dark secrets that go on at Arkham. Crackheads slicing open arteries, schizophrenics keeping doctors up for days on end. One that always highlights itself above the rest is the Scarecrow. And he just opened my cell door.

What I notice first is the eyes. Cold, icy-blue eyes so full of curiosity yet still impassive. Those cold and calculating eyes stare straight through and scan me. It’s a silent battle of how hard his stare can press until I break. I also see how he’s managed to keep his job. One might say he’s handsome but I know better. Just because you were a clean suit does not mean your soul is spotless. He may be able to charm his way into Arkham but I’ll never give in.

“Good afternoon, Ms…?”

The voice doesn’t help either. He does it well. Calm, soft, and smooth. Typical therapist nonsense I see in my line of work every day. Let’s see if I can win this game.

“You should have access to my file, sir. Introductions should not be necessary.”

The man’s eyebrows raise in response to my equally calm tone. Keep the voice calm, keep the eyes alert. I need to discreetly establish dominance in this conversation in order to gain leverage.

“I do have your file. But I prefer personal introductions with my patients.” The man sets a briefcase on the nearby table and takes a seat, then gestures for me to join him. “No need to hide. I’m here to help.”

Straight to the point I see. No use trying to beat around the bush. I step away from the corner I’m leaning against but refuse to sit down.

“There was a mistake.”

The man frowns and pulls out a pad to start taking notes. “What do you mean?”

He wants me to talk, so I will. “I mean I’m not supposed to be here. Someone paid off the judge to have me locked up, and the judge has had it out for me ever since I dug up his affair with the mayor’s wife.”

This intrigues the therapist as he jots down more notes, still looking up to keep his eyes piercing into me. “Are you a reporter?”

“Far from it. I am- was a psychiatrist in Metropolis. I was called to Gotham to help the mayor’s son. No one else was willing to work here.”

“And you are?” He asks with slight surprise though he tries to hide it.

“Metropolis can only take my curiosity so far,” I mutter. “Gotham is unique.”

More scribbling. I must say he’s much more organized than other professionals I’ve worked with. All the more reason to be concerned with the outcome of this conversation.

“I’m going to ask you some questions to start forming your profile.” Crane turns over an hourglass and clicks his pen open.

Basic protocol. There’s no way I’m giving him everything. Thankfully I’ve learned to avoid the telltale signs of lying.

“Full name?”

“Calico Marie Prentiss.”

“Pretty. Family name, I presume?”

Trying to soften me up and dig into my family history. “My father likes unique names, my mother prefers traditional ones. So they compromised.” Use present tense.

“How is your relationship with your family?” the man asks softly.

He has my family history. My job required me to keep an updated profile on personal matters to validate my own mental health. In other words just an excuse for the bored guys at the top to snoop.

“Currently undecided.” They’re dead. What else am I supposed to say?

“Ms. Prentiss, your parents-”

“With all due respect, sir, can we move things along and save that topic for later?” Just get to the part when I can get out of here!

My stern request doesn’t seem to faze the man. “Do you have supportive people in your life?”

Trying to bring me down by addressing empathy links. “People, no. I have other methods of support. And before you ask, I have never done drugs.”

He nods. “Current relationship status?”

This trips my mind a bit. Must be a new questionnaire protocol? 

“Single,” I enunciate in a cold voice.

“Interesting…” More scribbling. Jesus, is he writing a book about me? “Normally people like you are either engaged, married, or divorced. Very rarely do I see any single psychiatrists. Attractive, smart, rich. Very appealing characteristics for a relationship, don’t you think?”

Hm. He asked a question that isn’t based on my profile. Is this for genuine curiosity or a topic of interest for him? After a few seconds of silence go by he continues.

“Your toxicology screening came back clean, as you mentioned before. How many partners have you encountered?”

The question rings in my ear and for an instant my mask slips, but I’m quick to recover.

“None.”

Once again the therapist is surprised. “Catholic, are we?”

“I have my morals. I’m too busy to be worrying about sex, sir. My job comes first.”

More scribbling. God, how much longer?

“Are you having suicidal thoughts right now, or have you had suicidal thoughts within the past month?”

If this questioning goes any longer I may consider it.

“No.”

“Are you having homicidal thoughts, or have you had homicidal thoughts in the past month?”

“Never.”

“How do you cope with stress?”

“Exercise and hard rock. You should try it sometime.” I’m starting to lose my patience and I have to take a slow breath. This is just what he wants. Calm down.

The man hums. “What are some of your strengths?”

“I’m punctual and have a traditional mindset. This tends to drive away disagreeing parties, which is why I’m here.” I step closer and place my hands on the table to face him directly. “You are a head staff member here whether it’s morally correct or not. All I ask is to please allow me to speak to a lawyer, or at least a transfer to Gotham Penitentiary. I am not insane.”

“Morally correct…” he lingers on the thought and tilts his head. “Why would you say that, Ms. Prentiss?”

Just as I thought before, no use beating around the bush.

“I know who you are. Jonathan Crane, a former professor of psychology who’s obsessed with fear. Now you work here experimenting on patients behind the warden’s back.”

Crane’s eyes spark at the mention of fear. Must be a trigger word, perhaps for old memories. “Are you sure you’re not a reporter?” he asks, still in the same soft tone.

I shake my head. “Just a woman who’s not afraid to step on any toes.”

“Ah.” Crane stands up slowly and rummages through his briefcase. After tucking away his notes he looks up with a look that makes my blood run cold. 

“Would you like to see my mask?”

#jonathon crane #jonathon crane x reader #dr jonathan crane #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow #poison ivy #the riddler #harley quinn #the joker #two face #the penguin #batman #batman begins #the dark knight #the dark knigth rises #gotham #gotham tv #cillian murphy

[hauntingcryptids]

Secret Date

Gomez!Master x Reader

Summary - Missy convinces the Reader to break into The Vault for their anniversary.

Based On This Request - Anonymous requested - “Hi! May I ask for a soft fic with The Master where they hypnotise The Reader?”

Warnings - The Reader having anxiety, hypnotism, pre-established consent for hypnotism, mentions of alcohol consumption

Word Count - 1062

A/n - Gender Neutral Reader. Requested by this lovely anon! I will link the other fics inspired by this request HERE, if you would like to read them. I hope that you enjoy!

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

You first met Missy on accident when she was working as a shopkeep in your town’s cosy little shopping centre. You, stupidly and distractedly, had left your bag in the restrooms and Missy kindly returned it to you before you left for the day. Though it wasn’t until you returned home that you realised that the kind and beautiful shopkeep who returned your belongings had also left a little note with her name and phone number written on it for you to find.

It was odd, but you took the risk and scheduled a date with Missy the shopkeep. Then that single date turned into two, then three, then four, and then the two of you spiralled into a committed relationship.

But tragically, to you, in the middle of your committed domestic bliss, Missy would disappear at random times. At first, you thought nothing of it, she was probably just incredibly busy, but you eventually become worried that she was up to something. Maybe cheating on you?

You did end up confronting Missy and to your surprise, she told you a story about aliens and planets and shapeshifting time and space machines. You didn’t believe her. That was, until, Missy dragged you to her apartment above the shop where she worked. When you entered the building, before you was no regular apartment, but a gigantic room with a strange, science fiction-like console with many levers and buttons in the middle of the room. Missy explained that everything she told you before was true and that this was her ship. Finally, she told you that she wanted to show you the Universe. 

You accepted her offer, no matter how unbelievable it was at first, and the two of you began travelling together. But then Missy disappeared once again. This time Missy wasn’t sneaking off to be a menace around space and time, but The Doctor had abducted her and trapped her with The Vault. He did all of this without notifying you that he stole your partner away from you. 

You were worried sick without her, but Missy wasn’t going to let The Doctor keep you and her apart. She would let him play his games for a bit, but she would always keep her eyes on you. Her watchful and protective eye just had to be from a distance momentarily. 

Thankfully for you and Missy, The Vault did not entrap telepathic communications between its walls. So, the two of you ended up speaking frequently. Mostly it was just Missy complaining about her old friend and her trying to bribe you into visiting her.

After months of secretly communicating with each other back and forth, Missy did manage to convince you to break into the Vault in order to celebrate your anniversary. The anniversary of when you and Missy began dating.

You were incredibly nervous. You had never met The Doctor and now his oldest friend was convincing you to break into a basement he seemed to own. If he caught you during your attempt, that would be one hell of a way to first meet someone.

You made it into the chaotically filled basement without running into The Doctor, or either of his companions. Then you broke into the Vault. Missy greeted you with a tight hug and a warm kiss, which startled you at first. Missy was definitely affectionate with the right person, but the environment she was in was so strange and off-putting that you were shocked by her open nature. She countered your questions by explaining that The Doctor never watched her while she was in the Vault, he felt like it was too intrusive, and Missy just missed you too much to not attack you with affection upon seeing you again.

Missy ended up pouring some wine for the two of you that you had brought with you to the Vault. You were trying to dish out the food you had also brought but your hands fumbled with nerves. Missy looked at you concerned. She saw no real threat in The Doctor’s actions, other than the fact that he seemed determined to keep her where she was being trapped, but it wasn’t like he would ever hurt her or you.

“Dear, you must calm down. I promise that everything will be alright.” Missy tried to comfort you as the two of you prepared the finishing touches of the little indoor picnic that was being forged.

“How can you be certain about that Missy?”

“I know The Doctor, dearie. He wouldn’t hurt you. The most that would happen would be a strict talk.”

“Even that’s terrifying!” You yelped before taking a rather large sip of your wine.

“Shh, we’re safe here.” Missy manoeuvred herself closer to you; her actions were far too elegant to be referred to as ‘shooting over’. She then gently grabbed you by your shoulders and pulled you into her side before rubbing your back in a reassuring manner.

“But what if The Doctor keeps me away from you?” That question made Missy pause. She never really considered that option; Missy didn’t think that The Doctor had the nerve to do such a thing, but seeing your fear at such an idea made her fear that outcome, too. Even if The Doctor was enough of a fool to try and take you away from your Master, Missy would never allow The Doctor to succeed.

“I will always be here to protect you, Y/n. The Doctor can’t keep me away from my love.” You felt Missy kiss your temple and then press her forehead against yours. You then felt Missy’s presence prod your mind. You let her in and then you instantly felt a wave of calmness and clarity wash over you. Missy had sent a little hypnotic spell through your mind like she had done many times before when you felt overwhelmed. She always managed to help you with your anxiety better than any Human medicine or meditation could.

“Better?” Missy asked hopefully, still massaging your back and shoulders.

“Much better. Thank you, Missy.”

“Good. Now! Let’s toast to our beautiful relationship together and dig into this lovely meal you brought.” Missy kissed your temple one last time before grabbing her wine glass and clinking the glass against yours. Despite the unusual circumstances, nothing could keep Missy from having a great anniversary date with you.

#ghost's posts #my writing #fanfiction #x reader #anon #doctor who #doctor who x reader #the master #the master x reader #gomez!master #gomez!master x reader #missy #missy x reader

[unluckyhoneybee]

Sex Education: Just pretend. (Lando Norris)

Part 14.Smile for the cameras and say everything it's fine. That was the plan.

Previous part: Breaking point.

MASTERLIST.

Note: They will be happy soon. I promise. Plus, next chapter has been half written for months because I got the idea so long ago.

Warning: angst. so much angst. only angst and miserable characters.

"Is it true that you and Lando are dating?"

"For how long has it been going?"

"It's difficult to mix racing and relationships?"

"People say you and Lando were drunk, it's true?!"

I put my sunglasses on and tried to cover my face from the cameras. I was wearing my cap and looking down. I felt like a zombie. My knee still hurt from the crash and I was having meds. The ones FIA allowed. They weren't too strong and they didn't help much, but the doctor had given a green light to race.

The sleepless nights were short. Only 4 days had passed. Only 4 and I was here again under everyone's excruciating eyes. They were all judging me. They all had something to say.

I was YN YSN, the driver who had gotten Gio's seat only to go and fuck other drivers. The girl that had only gotten into F1 so she could have a good fuck.

I crossed the security fence and breathed deeply. They couldn't reach me here. The journalists and media here were more professional.

I walked to the hospitality avoiding anyone and once inside, I found no one but Frédéric.

"Morning" He said looking at me.

"Morning."

"I hope you are ready"

I frowned.

"Ready?"

"Yes. Don't fuck it up this weekend. It depends on how it goes if you have a seat or not"

I swallowed.

"Okay"

I felt like walking on thin ice. I felt like the next step I took would be wrong.

"Go, you have press. And stay away from Norris"

No relationships with other drivers.

No interactions with Lando Norris.

Good distance with drivers.

No more relationship with Lando Norris.

No talking to Lando Norris more than necessary.

No texting, no phone calls, nothing that can be filtered to the media.

The list kept going and going. The boss had basically told me to ignore Lando's presence. We wouldn't even do any kind of media together in the following weeks. And it was painful.

"No more secret games, we've seen you two are not good at it" They said.

And there I was feeling miserable and not wanting to be there. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. I should be happy. It was my dream. I had a seat on Formula 1, I was a woman racing here. Why did I have to choose? Why couldn't I have both? I had been doing good for months. Why not now? Why wouldn't they listen to me?

"Sweetheart" Sarah made me look at her. "Come here"

She gently cleaned my tears, tears that I didn't notice falling.

"I know it's hard. I know it."

"How?" I whimpered.

"I see it. I saw it the moment you watched those pictures. But YN, remember the plan. Once things calm down, we all will talk to them again. I'm sure there is something you can do"

"I'm sorry" I whispered.

"Why?"

"For making your job so hard"

"No, honey. It's fine. This word is still not made for us. But we can change it, though"

I nodded a bit.

Once I arrived at the press area, all eyes were on me. I walked between people while hearing them whispering. What was the plan? The plan was to tell everyone that it meant nothing. That it was a mistake and it wouldn't happen again. We had to give similar answers, say the same things and play the act our teams had written for us.

The other drivers looked at me as I arrived at the private area. I didn't like what I saw. I didn't like the pity in their eyes. Also, the doubt, could they even talk to me?

"YN!" George walked to me. He was probably the only one keeping me sane.

I hugged him quickly and bit my lip.

"We are together on press" He said with a happy face. But that was also an act. It was a known thing that we were childhood friends. And people had always been okay with it. The team said that I had to keep doing the usual stuff with him. Nothing had happened between Lando and me after all. It wasn't important. I was dealing with this feeling of sadness and emptiness in my chest.

I nodded at his words and touched his arm as a thank you. Us being together in press meant that I wasn't alone.

I looked around. George, Carlos, Fernando and... Pierre. Pierre too. I sighed.

Once we got inside, the nerves settled in my stomach. I tried to avoid eyes and cameras, they were all on me.

"Okay, let's start"

"I have a question for YN!"

Of course, you do. Who doesn't?

"We have all seen the photo that was leaked last weekend. Lando has already said that it means nothing and it was a one-time thing. He described it as two young people partying and said that if there was another girl or boy there wouldn't be any drama. What can you say about it?"

I took a deep breath.

"Basically the same. We were partying and it just happened. It really has no meaning. A kiss. That's all. The person who took the photo was lucky enough to catch it" I said shrugging it.

"So... There are people talking about a relationship between you two, what does it mean, then?"

"Nothing. A kiss is a kiss. We are not gonna marry. It's 2022"

I was playing with my fingers and trying to control my breath.

"The picture leaked during the race. Is it possible that you had that crash because of it?"

I let an annoyed laugh out.

"We are not allowed to have phones in the car"

The guys chuckled.

"Okay" They guy said.

A woman lifted her hand.

"How has this affected to you and the team? There had been comments talking about you having other intentions in F1 and rumours about you leaving after this"

I took a deep breath.

"I'm still here, as you can see. And the comments... The team is really supportive and is already working on those. Obviously, they all are defamatory and the only intention is to cause damage because clearly, that people don't know me. I'm here because I love racing, I have always loved racing and George can confirm that. I'm not using this as a dating app as many says. I'm just a young woman and I can make my own decisions. I can have fun and yes, probably it shouldn't have happened because we are rivals and maybe it's not that ethical. But well, it's done. It's another step that we both had to take in life and something that we surely will learn from."

Lies, lies, lies and more lies. All lies.

"Do you see yourself in a relationship with Lando or any other of the drivers?"

"I see myself fighting for a championship in a couple of years" I answered and laid the microphone in my lap.

The guys looked at me with smiles on their faces.

"Pierre" They directed the cameras to him now. "Is there something to say about the crash?"

"No. It was a racing incident. We both pushed too much."

We left the room ten minutes later.

"YN?" George asked in a whisper.

"It hurts" I said with tears getting into my eyes. "For how long do I have to pretend it was nothing? It was the best thing I've ever had."

George looked around, probably trying to see if there was anyone dangerous in sight. Once he checked, he hugged me so tight. I hid in his chest and closed my eyes.

"I wish things were easier." He whispered.

And suddenly I felt a touch on my back. I looked to the right and saw his green eyes and sad look. His hand dropped quickly as he was pushed by his PR assistant, but he kept staring at me until he was out of sigh. That was the first time I had seen him since the meeting. We hadn't even talked.

"He is not much better" George whispered. "I don't know if that's what you need to hear. But... he is not doing good."

I bit my lip.

"There is something coming and I want you to know that he misses you just as much."

"What is coming?"

"I can't tell you."

"George"

....................................

PIC

Yes, it's him. After being the protagonist of the year's paddock gossip with his rival YN YSN, Lando Norris has been seen in Monaco with the model Sylvie Flannagan.

The model is 24 years old and has worked with the big ones. We have seen her on Paris, Milan and New York's runaways. With her relaxed catwalk style and signature blue eyes, we understand Norris's interest.

But, what about YN?

Both drivers already talked about the episode between them, that eclipsed Max Verstappen's last win. Not even the spectacular recovery after touching his teammate while overtaking the Mexican was enough to make him shine more than these two. Now, only two weeks after the pictures leaked, Norris has been seen with another girl.

For the moment we know nothing about Sylvie and Lando. The only thing is that they both left a known restaurant in Monte Carlo and left in Norris' car. Are they dating? We will see. Maybe we get a new paddock appearance soon.

The article had come out only two days ago and the girl was already posting candids of Lando.

I was looking at my phone. It was a picture of her pinching Lando's cheeks with those long and expensive nails. I groaned and let the phone fall.

I received a message from George with the link.

George: this is what I told you about. He still loves you.

"It's fake" Sarah said. "I'm sure it's fake"

"It doesn't hurt less." I whispered. I wanted to believe it was a stunt, but they looked so damn cute together. The driver and the model.

Sylvie had those perfect curves, perfect nose, perfect lips, perfect hair, perfect hands... She was everything I wasn't and she was supposed to be dating the guy I was in love with.

I walked back to the press room. There he was. Why was he there?

I sat and gave him a smile. Behave normally, nothing happened after all.

"Hi"

The questions started.

"YN, what do you think of those rumors about Lando being in a relationship?"

Lando groaned.

"Um... Well, I've seen pictures. Aren't they highly invasive? I think paparazzi are crossing way too many limits, right Lando?"

He nodded.

"And the pictures Sylvie Flannagan posted?"

"I would kill to eat that pasta she posted last week"

"So you follow Sylvie on instagram"

"I do. I follow many models. And influencers. And actresses. And politicians. And singers"

Lando looked at me.

"And it doesn't bother you that she posts Lando?"

I turned to Lando.

"Does it bother you? It's consensual, right?"

He smiled and Sebastian on my other side chuckled.

"It's consensual"

"You don't have any kind of problem with this rumoured relationship"

"Why would I?"

"I don't understand what this has to do with racing" Lando said.

"Same. You guys should stop, it's his private life" I said and crossed my arms.

The guy directing the press told them to ask only about the racing.

"YN" Lando grabbed my arm when we left.

I looked at him in panic.

"Thank you" He breathed out. "Really, thank you"

"YN, Lando, you can't do this..."

"My contract, Lando" I whispered.

Lando POV.

I groaned. She had it forbidden.

"Yeah, sorry. Can I text you?"

She looked down and bit her lip.

"Don't make it harder" She whispered with tears in her eyes and I felt like the worst guy in the room.

I stayed there watching her leave and the lump in my throat only grew tighter.

Hours later, I sat alone in the hospitality. I didn't feel like talking to anyone.

"Mate. Why are you here alone?" I heard Danny calling from behind.

"I want to be..."

He ignored me and sat next to me.

"Is about..."

"What else could it be about?"

He sighed.

"It's a shit, man. But you can stay like this. Where is your... girlfriend?"

"It's fake." I said.

He nodded.

"I supposed." He touched my arm. "Do you even like her?"

"She is nice. She really is nice. She is friendly and understands the situation. But I don't want to sit with her for two hours in a restaurant or have her in my car as I sign stuff. I don't want her in my flat. She is not even my friend. She is earning money and this is only a job for her"

Daniel cleared his throat.

"Zak and I are not on the best terms now, mate. But I could talk to him. Tell him I'm seeing you sad or something"

"He knows. He knows I don't agree with all of this. I don't even think this is helping. People only ask about YN or if I was already dating Sylvie when... you know. When they caught us. There are people out there calling me a cheater. A cheater! They forced me to leave the girl I love and start fake dating this girl."

I felt like crying and screaming. I wanted nothing more.

"I hate it all" I whispered and covered my face with my hands. Daniel hugged my shoulders.

"Lando. This has a solution. I'm sure it does. You just need to let if cool down. You will have her."

"I can't wait until we retire"

He sighed.

"Lando. This life is a fucking shit. It's cool to drive fast cars. I know. But... Just wait a bit, and then fight. Okay?"

I didn't move.

"End this thing with the model as soon as you can. Then go for YN"

"She can lose her seat because of me"

Daniel gasped and pulled back from me.

"What?"

"Yes. They made her sign a contract"

"Fucking shit"

"I can't do that to her. I can't"

Daniel sighed.

"Lando..."

"There is nothing more to say"

"I wish I could help. I can give you my farm keys if you want to go there and hide for the rest of your life."

I smiled a bit.

"Thanks"

"But really, if you need something... I'm here, mate"

I nodded.

"Thank you"

He stayed there in silence.

"Could you and Heidi come with us on a double date or something? I can't sit with her and not talk again. Really, we have nothing in common"

Sylvie wasn't like YN. She didn't sit there and listen to me ranting about golf or whatever. We barely knew each other and I could be who I wanted to be around her.

..................................................

Your POV

"I can't believe I'm asking for permission for a party" I groaned.

"You can go, but be discreet. Stay with George and Carmen okay?"

"I'm not gonna make them babysit me"

They did. They stayed next to me on the club and tried to keep my mind of the mess I was living.

But suddenly I saw her. Sylvie Flanagan. A second later and following her like a puppy, Lando appeared.

"YN..."

"It's fine. I'm fine" I turned around and leaned both elbows on the table.

"You don't need to pretend with us." Carmen said while touching my hand.

I groaned and ran my hands through my hair.

"I don't understand how that can be a solution. I get a ban to talk and even look at this guy and he gets a pretty girlfriend"

"It's an awful idea" George said. "But... I don't think he is happy with it"

I looked up at my best friend.

"He is in love with you. He wants to be with you. Don't you think he would prefer to be here than with a girl he barely knows. We are talking about Lando. He is awkward as hell"

I sighed.

"She is really pretty"

"And so are you. You have a million things in common with him."

I closed my eyes.

"YN!"

I looked to the side.

"Pierre"

"How are you?"

I shouldn't have, but I ended sitting with Pierre, Close enough to George and Carmen but only talking to the French.

"I wanted to talk to you..." He said turning serious after some stupid joke.

I swallowed.

"About what?"

"About what I did" He sighed.

His blue eyes looked darker on the club's light. He was serious and for once keeping the distance. There was nothing about the old flirty Pierre.

"Yeah, what you did..."

"I overstepped. It was none of my business."

I nodded.

"It wasn't. But... Why?"

George told me. He said Pierre was just trying to get Lando to act on his feeling.

"You know... I've been trying to get something from you for a while"

"What a way to start, Gasly" I chuckled and drank from my non-alcoholic drink.

He laughed a bit.

"Yeah, yeah. I have flirted with you for so long, YN. And that's a thing"

"It is"

"I thought you were interested in me at first"

"I was. You are hot. I was kind of interested. But look what happens when you are a girl and fuck another driver. They ban you. I'm glad I didn't fuck you."

He sighed.

"I'm glad too, yes. It would have been messy"

"Why?"

"Because you never looked at me in the way you look at him"

I opened my mouth to speak but words didn't come.

"You were being a couple of idiots and it was horrible to watch" He said with a smile. "I knew Lando was... I don't know. He was jealous of me, right? I don't know when your thing started but he has been giving me killing eyes for a while. I thought that if he saw that he could lose you he may go and do something."

"But he didn't" I said. "We fighted."

"I'm sorry for that."

I shrugged.

"I still want to cut your balls"

"I understand"

I looked at my drink.

"I'm really sorry. And I wish I had left you two alone"

"It would have changed nothing. The photos were already taken"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't have spend the weekend angry at each other. And then we wouldn't have crashed."

"Do you think we crashed because of..."

"Babe, you fighted like you hated me"

I chuckled.

"If I had known it was our last weekend together I would have talked to him. Instead of giving the silent treatment."

"That's what I mean"

I looked at him.

"Thank you for talking to me, Pierre. It means a lot"

He patted my knee.

"It's fine. And how is it? You can't talk to him in person or..."

"Nothing. I can't have any contact with him for the moment."

"And... What happens to us? The others"

"Nothing for the moment. Not sex and funny stuff with drivers though. I can't lose my seat."

"Lose you seat?"

I nodded.

"Break up with Lando and keep my seat or stay with Lando and lose my seat"

"Wow, why..."

"He told me to. He was pretty convincing and..."

"What the fuck are you doing YN?"

We both looked to my right, Lando was there and he was furious. George had a hand on his chest.

"Have you lost your mind? You can lose you fucking seat, YN!"

I looked around. I was confused. What was I doing?

"And... Pierre?! After what he did?"

"Lando what are..."

"No! I thought you would be more careful!"

His eyes were glassy and he was red. Other drivers were around us.

"After everything!"

I got up and looked around.

"Lando, you need to calm down. I'm not..."

"Yes you are! They go and tell you you can lose the seat because of us and now you go and do the same with Pierre?"

My eyes filled with tears and took a step back.

"I'm not doing anything"

"What if they take another picture?"

"We were just talking, Lando. Just talking. I'm allowed to talk to people"

He let his breath out and his eyes filled with tears.

Daniel grabbed his shoulder.

"You are not allowed to talk to me..."

I felt my heart crushing.

"Lando..."

"Go and talk to Pierre... It's fine... We... We are n-"

"Let's go outside, Lando" Daniel said pushing him slowly. The aussie guided Lando away.

I felt two hands on mh shoulder and the next thing was Carmen hugging me.

I felt cold, shocked, dizzy. I hated this. I hated all of it. I just wanted to be a normal girl with a normal boyfriend. I wanted a normal life with Lando.

"I want this to be over" I sobbed on her shoulder.

"I know, YN. I know"

Next part: Serious talks and possibilities. .

Taglist: @ophcelia @damnyourlife @hannahholland1811 @somanyfandomsbruh @incalescentheart

#Fic #Lando norris #Ln #Angst #S*x ed #F1

[bisexualboysbroadcast]

okay, are you ready? here’s my be mine superstar melt:

1. I am unbearably obsessed with the personality “swop” that happened between these two actors. going from fiat our little sunshine brat in dsn to Ashi our regal serious actor in bms and Leo our serious big boy protector in dsn to actual puppy sunshine baby punn in bsm -> getting a swop like that shows me their range as actors but also just different sides to their acting personalities and how well they know each other which is pure magic in romance

2. I’m OBSESSED with the way they met. like yes punn is madly in love with ashi as a fan boy (the little poster kiss really ruined my life), but to have an accidental bump in meet-cute and then (as far as it looks like the plot is heading) to end up working together is a delightful start to their story (cause it alludes to plot directions like “oh fuck I’m in love with you what am I supposed to do with these feelings??” , and “secret relationship eras (my beloved)” and “how can you date him you’re just a student intern and he’s a superstar” and “but I love him. I love him.”. can you tell I’m ready for this?)

3. the sets for this show seem to be out of this world. not just in relation to the period drama ashi (and co) are acting in but also the cafe where punn met his friends, the bar where doctor and superstar met (HAH!), punn’s mom’s cafe, dad’s art studio. all of it is so good. and from what I can see they really seem to be using the lighting and set structure to show personalities which is incredible in and of itself. (e.g. if you notice the lighting and set is pretty light/airy/flowing when punn is the central focus (that shower scene speaks for itself); but quite dark/wood/sort of solid when ashi is the focus)

4. the costumes, oh good god, the costumes! firstly just how beautiful the period drama stuff is ! ashi’s white cloak? and title’s full princely (guard?) suit? IMMACULATE. but also their casual clothes. ashi being so neat, tidy, and elegant always. versus punn who is soft and comfy (that lil grey cardigan did so much for my heart). as far as I can see (and probably because there’s been so many costume changes as a result of ashi’s job), there hasn’t been any colour coding between him and punn (yet?). so not much to say on the blue boy/red boy (/other colour variations) connotations. they may just play this out in style more than colour which is always less obvious but satisfying all the same, but I guess that’s just a waiting game.

5. so so happy with all the touching we’ve had. and I don’t just mean punn and his delusional body pillow cuddling (although that’s so relatable). but also between doctor and superstar (I really need to get to their names lmao) -> their entire scene was iron melting! the thumb swipe across the bottom lip, the finger brushing against the hand, the dancing (holy fuck), and then naturally the sex. SO GOOD. but also yes punn and his little prayer to his ashi poster, punn and his brother pai fighting (ah sibling love), even the touching between the three superstar friends. I like that the intimacy of touching is already being shown in a full range of ways. parents to children, sibling to sibling, friend to friend, love interests, lust. EATING SO GOOD!

anyway, now that I’ve talked y’all’s ears off, I am so happy to have a Monday night (more like Tuesday morning) watch for the next few weeks and I’m beyond excited for wherever this one will take us !!

#ciara watches bms #be mine superstar #no I can never shut up😫

[major-fukkup]

OK I'll bite. First thing to note is that in this post "my mom" and "my family" refers to my biological mother and family, whom I lived with until age 20. I'm in a much better, more stable situation now and have found a family who actually loves and respects me. Anyway, here's my homeschool story.

I was homeschooled my entire life, never even set foot into a public school until I was 22 or 23 (dropping off and picking up a roommate's child), and I've only known a total of three other homeschool families personally. One was in our neighborhood when I was a child, and the other two I met online in groups that had absolutely nothing to do with homeschooling, we just became close and opened up to each other over time about it (my mom only knew about the one, since I was 11 and didn't have a way to keep any secrets, not to mention was naive enough to still hope I could make things work out if I played my cards right; and the other one I was 19 and knew enough by then not to tell her shit).

When my older siblings were younger (before I was school age), they, along with my mom, participated in a homeschool group where they had meetings and events with other families and could get involved in whatever local things were going on and make friends, whereas, I never had that. We had completely stopped associating with anyone else by the time I started school, and it was like everything about our life and family was a secret from everybody.

I was never allowed to have friends (I was allowed to play with the neighbors' kids but ONLY if they invited ME, and only in our front yard or on bikes on our little dead end street; I wasn't allowed to invite them in, go to their houses or yards, or call them my friends; and any time I asked my mom for permission to do anything other than bike or play in the yard she would yell at me), go anywhere without an older sibling or my mom (she was a single parent), or go anywhere with the family during school hours "because someone might think it's suspicious that I'm not in school right now". I was also forbidden to talk about the things we did at home - the movies and shows we watched (they were few), games and activities, everything.

I have autism, ADHD, depression, and a whole list of other things that went undiagnosed for years because I wasn't allowed to go to any doctors except the optometrist (I've had to wear glasses since I was a baby).

My mom is an anti-vaxxer so I always just assumed I was unvaccinated until I was 17 and I overheard her talking to my brother about it so since she had never told me I just straight-up asked. "So, am I vaccinated or not?" She said yes, but that she's regretted it ever since. She says that she had to so that I wouldn't be taken by the Department of Social Services. I'm told we were under investigation for about two years around when I was born, which could account for some of her behavior and paranoia and never wanting to let me out of her sight, despite giving my siblings more freedom even when they were my age or younger, but on the other hand, seeing what I have in more recent years, it's more likely in my opinion that her behavior is what got us under investigation. She always just said it had to do with "false accusations" my sister made (I've been wondering for years now how false they were, if that part is even true at all).

Usually she insisted that neurodivergence (she didn't know that word) and mental disorders like depression, OCD, schizophrenia, the list goes on, were all fake. However, sometimes, she would say that they (specifically ADHD and autism), were caused by vaccinations and that's why they were so "popular nowadays".

A few years ago I read that there were studies associating autism in children with lead poisoning - a condition she told me I was diagnosed with as a baby right before (or after, I don't remember) telling me that the doctor was "lying to get her to pay more money" because apparently there's NO WAY there could be anything "wrong" with one of HER children. (Just a note: it hasn't been proven that there's a connection and I'm pretty sure autism has almost always existed, we just didn't always have words for it and scientific explanations for our brains working differently from each other.)

I have a theory, also unproven, that I WAS diagnosed with autism as a child and that she withheld this information from me in hopes that I could grow up to be "normal". But unless I can get access to all my medical records from back then, I'll never know, and most of the doctors she must have dealt with who might recognize my name have probably retired by now (it's been about 20 years and I know for a fact that my optometrist from around that time retired, so it's not unlikely that others did too; I have no recollection of any of them and I don't know any names to look them up).

But I was never her version of normal. I was always doing something "wrong", despite following her instructions to the letter. Never good enough, no matter what I did. I was a failure. I always just thought there must have been something wrong with me, that I just wasn't trying hard enough and that I could earn her love one day for sure. To put it in perspective, I started contemplating suicide when I was 7 and it's just been in my mind ever since. The belief that everyone would be better off if I was dead. Foreground or background, it's always there. I've lost count of how many times I've attempted, and I've all but given up on it because this many failed attempts either means I really am that much of a failure, or that it was never meant to be.

ANYWAY, back to the actual SCHOOLING part of this guaranteedly-too-long-already post about... homeschooling.

I swear all that was at least partially related.

I didn't have help. I had books. I would sit at my desk and read words I couldn't understand to try to help me figure out work I didn't know how to do.

The only "help" I got was in the form of screaming. I don't know which I heard more, "IT'S NOT THAT HARD" or "I DON'T GET WHAT YOU DON'T GET".

Fortunately in sixth grade, she stopped checking my work entirely. I graded my own tests against the answer sheets, but I made sure to do well for fear of the one time I slack being the one time she would actually check. Any time she was out of the room (which was pretty frequently now that I think about it), I'd just cheat off the answer sheets. And if she did come into the room, I'd waste time pretending to do the work until she left again.

All my siblings had actual graduation parties, with gifts, and family, and they were even allowed to invite friends (my mom failed to take into consideration that she never allowed us to have any). Their graduations were made into a big deal. Celebrated. Mine was just another day. Nobody cared.

All of these things have had a major impact on my whole life, namely, I learned not to share my opinions and feelings with anybody because they might take advantage of me or hurt me, like my family did; I find it almost impossible to make friends and therefore feel like I have to suffer alone forever; I don't know how to talk to people even if I consider them close to me; I don't know how to do basic self-care and hygienic care; and I have absolutely no plans or hope for my future.

What other people my age apparently learned in school was how to do math, how to use proper grammar, where countries and cities are in the world, how to cook, what career they would be best suited for, and how to be self-sufficient while still being able to lean on others when necessary.

What I learned in school was how to cheat the system, how to lie and hide everything and not get caught, how to take care of myself and not depend on anyone for any reason at any time, how to mask my emotions, that it's wrong to have an opinion, not to trust anybody, how to make anything worth eating in the microwave, and, above all, that I am a piece of shit that no one could ever come to love even in my wildest dreams.

Almost certainly more useful information (with exception to the last one), but not exactly the way I wished for a long time that I could have learned all those things.

I am aware that I really went on a tangent here, but that's why I elected to make my own post in stead of tacking my story onto someone else's.

That said, I genuinely don't think there's anything wrong with homeschooling. I think that some parents just really suck at raising their kids to live in this world. Or maybe just kinda suck in general.

I think that there are right ways and wrong ways to homeschool. I think that my mom went about it in a wrong way, but I'm not even entirely sure what I would have wanted her to do differently. I guess treating me like a fellow human being instead of a failed experiment would have been a good start. Or at least treating me as if I was equal to my siblings, despite being the youngest.

But maybe she was right. I haven't done any good for anyone. At least, not that they will tell you. I'm not loved, valued, or appreciated, or at least, not by very many people and am rarely treated like it. I haven't done anything with my life. Nothing notable. I don't suspect I will be remembered when I'm gone. I think my name will be forgotten within a year. But I think I'll live on in the memories of the few and far between who will speak now and then of this one person who was just... different. But they can't quite remember how.

Maybe she was right when she said she wished I had never been born. I wished that too, and I told her so.

Maybe she was right, I can't live without her. But I've been doing better on my own over the last four years than I ever was during the 20 I spent chained to her. She said I could never go across the country to meet my best friend, but look at me now.

She was wrong about that... I wonder what else she could be wrong about?

#real shit #long post #seriously this is my longest ever personal post #this is basically my life story but genuinely only maybe like half the trauma lol #suicide mention #tw trauma #trauma dump Ig #it's not actually but I'll throw that on there just in case #this isn't even me venting #it's just my past #from my point of view #depression tw #I was debating even posting this but I think you all deserve to know my story even if it doesn't change anything

[zooophagous]

Today's installment of Wayward Souls contains no explicit sexual content but does contain references to it. Viewer discretion is advised.

Strauss closed the lid on the last of the mouse cages. They'd all been cleaned, fed, and watered methodically, and now he had a moment or two to just sit back and enjoy them. They had been friendlier, now- now that he was in charge of raising them, and had made it a point to only breed friendly individuals.

The favorite among these sat in his open palm, grooming his whiskers calmly while a massive predator loomed over it. "I am not sure what to do, Edelweiss."

He spoke softly to the mouse in his claw. Speaking to animals was therapeutic- it wasn't as if Edelweiss would share secrets or become angry. "I have not experienced these feelings in a very long time. I wasn't any good at it then, either, and now? It is impossible. I fear I may be cursed to be crushed under them. There is not an outlet."

The mouse stopped its grooming and began climbing his arm, hunting for bits of oat or apple that his master usually had on hand for him. Strauss walked him over his claw, and then one hand over the other, letting the rodent run on his hands like a treadmill.

"What would you do in my situation, hm? Do you know what romance even is?"

He placed the animal back into the little pen with the breeding females. In moments the male mouse was on them, and there was a small flurry of annoyed squeaks and scuffling bedding as they rudely sorted their differences.

"Eugh... no." He sighed.

"That is not how a civilized animal treats their mates. I may have to ask someone else." He shrugged and went to wash his hands. He supposed a therapist would be the best answer. But his therapist also being the object of his misplaced amorous emotions... that was impossible. No.

Maybe he'd have to find a different outlet. Maybe he could get a computer from the library and start online dating. Maybe he could bury his emotions in a nice tidy pornography addiction. Maybe he could convince one of the doctors to castrate him.

Or maybe Troy could help. He was trustworthy, and worldly enough to understand these sorts of desires for sure. If nothing else, Troy was a  better option than Ursula.

Troy was easy to find in the game room. He was playing 'Skyrim,' a game in which Troy always played a werewolf. He recognized the dialogue as the opening credit sequence- Troy was starting a new game. Good. He wouldn't mind talking through this part, he'd heart it all before.

"Troy." Strauss greeted him quietly.

"Oh hey man. Sup?"

"Do you mind if I sit for a while?"

"Please do. Starting a new build with some mods."

"I do not know what that means." The vampire found himself to the couch and sat in an awkward hunch with his hands clasped together. "Troy, you have an affable, social nature that I much covet. May I ask you an awkward question?"

"Your questions usually are awkward, bud. Go ahead though."

"How do you cope when you develop strong feelings for someone unattainable?"

"Oh now there's a fun question." Troy chuckled. "I went to high school right when homophobia was only just starting to get a tiny little tish bit better in America. Most of the guys I've been attracted to were unattainable."

"I see. Yes, that complicates things terribly. I am sure it caused you a great deal of pain."

"Yeah, I mean when you're a teenager everything is the end of the world y'know? and once I found out about the lycanthropy thing on top of it, you could FORGET about the dating scene. I was really lonely for a long, loooong time."

"What did you do?"

"I don't know... I tried my best to cultivate a safe friend group, I focused on my studies, I got really in to some hobbies. Thing of it is, highschool doesn't last forever. All circumstances are temporary, y'know? Sometimes you can only wait it out."

"I don't suppose the object of your affections waited with you."

"No but here's the thing, there's billions of people out there. You can be sad about missing a connection but it's not your only chance to be happy. And Hell, people change too. I know I wouldn't date any of the guys I knew in highschool now."

"That is fair. Perhaps as an immortal, I only need to be patient and I will outlive my feelings like I outlive everything else."

"I should be asking you for advice dude, you're the old one. And weren't you married before? I've never been married. So anyway, who you crushing on so bad?"

"I have developed feelings for Director Van Helsing."

"Called it." Troy pumped his fist.

"Called it? What do you mean called it? I haven't told anyone about this."

"Oh please buddy you ain't subtle." Troy gave his friend a sly glance. "The coffee breaks, the walks together, the way she gets you out of any conceivable punishment security tries to impose on you, you're her favorite and you're obviously all twitterpated about it."

"Twitterpated?"

"You're in to her. I didn't have to study you like Jane Goodall watching bonobos to figure it out either. You follower her like a puppy dog."

"Puppy dog. That is rich, coming from you. So what do I do?"

"You tried talking to her?"

"No. Absolutely not." Strauss got up and began to pace. "For many reasons, our union would be a terrible idea. It would be unethical for a researcher to mingle with a subject for one- I could destroy the results of years of work. She has put so much of herself into this project I refuse to let that happen. There is also something to be said for the considerable age difference."

"You're both adults."

"I am over two hundred years old and she is thirty five."

"So what, you think it's only ok for vampires to date other vampires?"

"That is another issue. It is unknown if a... coupling between a vampire and a human provides a risk at transmitting the vampiric pathogen. I would not risk hurting her that way."

"Oh come on, it's not like being together means having sex. Besides there's condoms and safety measures you can use, or just do hand stuff, and wasn't there a test they were supposed to do to figure out if it was safe or not?"

"There was, but I wasn't able to complete it."

"Oh, I guess that might be in the way of a physical relationship if you can't get it up."

"That wasn't the problem. I was able to, I just... got wrapped up in the moment and I missed the cup."

"So try again?"

"I can't. If I hand over physical evidence of my infatuation with Director Van Helsing I will die of shame. It was the best I could do, to get to the point where it didn't cause me physical pain."

"It hurt you?"

"The first time, yes. Two hundred years of inactivity led to atrophy. After the fourth or fifth attempt, it was much more comfortable."

"Wait. Four or five times in a row?"

"Yes."

"That's... wow that's actually really impressive. But Jesus Christ dude, you're down BAD. I knew you were super repressed but this is actually kind of sad."

"So what do I do?"

"In your case, I guess... you've been able to start expanding your horizons and branching out, right? Maybe start finding a friend that's outside of this weird power dynamic thing that's going on and see if you can't shift focus. You can't just repress it all away though dude."

"Watch me."

"Hopeless." Troy shook his head. "Absolutely hopeless."

"Well. That's enough of my deep dark secrets, Herr Cunningham. What about you, Hmm? I've seen Sam visiting a time or two now."

"Oh yeah, Sam is great. I think we really clicked, y'know? I might see if I can't spend a weekend at his place soon once we're sure my medications are working."

"And he doesn't know about you?"

"Nope. And with any luck I won't have to tell him, I'll just medicate myself into nice human normalcy forever."

"That sounds unhealthy."

"Yeah well, I still can't much control it, so I'll just have to schedule my shifts every now and then and just keep it a secret. Manage it like any other medical condition."

"You can't repress it all away, Troy."

Troy smirked at the vampire in reply. "Watch me."

#wayward souls #writing #long post

[mirkwoodshewolf]

I’ll always be here; Eddie Munson x reader

*Author’s note*

Well it’s certainly been awhile but works kept me INSANELY busy plus the heatwave really affecting my brain in creativity but now that I’ve got some time, I’m gonna start doing some major updates to some WIP’s, not only in the request dept. but also trying to finish up my Celestial Hobbit story so that way I can start posting up what I’ve done so far for the LOTR sequel (already got like 6-7 good chapters of that).

Now this comes from an anon who wanted an Eddie Munson request. Now this can be viewed as either platonic or romantic (I’ll let you all decide) but just know this takes place roughly a bit after the events of s.3. So no real warnings except for canon violence, some horror jumpscare(?), mentions of torture, some swearing but overall EDDIE MUNSON FLUFF!!! Enjoy my lovelies and until next time!

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@queen-paladin​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@byersboys​

_________________________________________________________

I felt another punch across my face and the familiar numbness of a bruise forming on my cheek.

“We grow tired of your games. Tell us, who you work for? And this will all go away.” The Russian guard interrogated me.  I narrowed my eyes at him and spat in his face, this time blood spurting across his face.  He looked at me stoically before slapping me so hard, the chair collapsed to the floor and I panted.  “It would seem we need the heavy artillery.”

But something was different.  Two Russians began pulling in what looked like a large steel crate that held some kind of animal.  Wait, wait this-this isn’t how it played out. The cage rattled and I heard the familiar sound of the creature that was inside.

“No! No please! Don’t open that cage! I already told you I work at Radio Shack! What else do you want!?” but the Russians remained silent as one of them removed the locks from the cage and opened the door.  It was quiet and still and I couldn’t see anything but blackness inside the cage.

That was until the damn thing launched out at me with its face open wide and rows of teeth filled my vision.

I shot up gasping and panting as I looked around and saw that I wasn’t in the secret Russian base of the former Starcourt Mall.

“(Y/n)? You okay?” I groaned softly burying my face into my hands. “Hey, hey, hey whoa, whoa. Look at me.” I looked to my left and there sat Eddie as physically close as he could possibly be.  “Another nightmare.” He said more as a statement than a question.

“I knew this was a bad idea. I’ve been here a week and I’ve kept you up with my stupid nightmares.” I whined softly.

“Hey, first of all they’re not stupid. What you went through in that mall fire……god I can’t even imagine it. You’re lucky the worst thing besides the bruises was just your broken leg.” He said gesturing to my casted leg.

I had told him it was from a beam that had fallen on top of me when in reality it was because of the Mindflayer.  Like El, I had suffered a pretty nasty scar on my leg from it’s sharp, tendril clawed hand back at the mall.  It ran from the back of my knee right down towards my Achilles tendon. The doctors were surprised that I was able to survive let alone keep my leg with how deep the scars ran.

But it wasn’t a total loss.  Every day Eddie would come in with good proper food (which is basically junk food), some comic books, and his worn out copies of Tolkien’s books. Which he would read to me to cheer me up and not be so bored in my hospital bed up until I was able to be released.

“Second of all, you know I don’t mind you being here. I’ll always be here to look after you, just like I know…..”

“I’ll be there for you.” I finished.  That was our saying to one another ever since we first became friends. He leaned his head forward and pressed his forehead against mine.

“So what shall it be first? An early morning movie marathon or smoking our troubles away?”

“Movie marathon.”

“What her highness wants, her highness shall receive.” He said with a bow before handing me my crutches and headed out of the room to get our movie marathon started.  I steadied myself up and carefully maneuvered around his trailer until I got to the couch.

Eddie had just gotten done setting up the pillows for my leg, as I hobbled over, Eddie held out his hand and I took it as I slowly spun around and he helped me sit down on the couch.  I raised my leg and set it down on the pillows with a groan.

“Thanks Eddie.” I said.

“No prob, I live to serve.” He said with another low bow. “So what shall it be? Footloose? Risky Business? Or perhaps West Side Story?”

“But you hate those movies.” I said.

“I know, but you love them.” I placed my hand over my heart and cooed.

“Aww you do love me.”

“Do I know that? Yes, yes I do. Now come on, you’re the patient here, what shall it be?”

“How about this, we compromise by watching West Side first, and then we watch Scarface.”

“I like how you know my taste in violent movies. Deal.” He said going through the rented collection of films he got from Robin and Steve down at Family Video.  

As he started the video, he sat himself down beside my upper body and I wrapped my arms around his neck, one arm resting over his shoulders while the other stroked through his hair which made him lean back into me.

While watching the movie, my mind kept going back to the nightmare.  The Starcourt Mall wasn’t my first interaction with the ‘Curse of Hawkins’. I actually got involved with the Upside down a year after Will Byers had been found.  I had went to Dustin’s place since his mom called me to babysit him, when I nearly got attacked by his demodog that he named Dart.

Both him and Steve ended up saving my ass and from then on I became part of the group and learned the truth about what really happened to Will, got the DL on the new girl El, Hawkins lab, the Upside down, all that insane shit.  However it killed me to not tell Eddie about all this stuff (since we always told each other everything).

And now with my leg busted up for pretty much the rest of the summer and maybe even into the start of the next school year (boy is that gonna be hell), I can’t even tell him the real reason why it happened, and more importantly why I keep waking him up every night screaming and sweating.

“Eddie.” He turned up and looked up at me.  “I really am sorry.”

“For what?”

“For always waking you up. I-I wish I could tell you what happened that night but I just…..” I sighed heavily and turned away from him. I felt a hand underneath my chin as my head was turned back towards Eddie who looked at me with those deep, concerning brown eyes of his, and even emphasized his concern with that adorable puppy dog head tilt.

“I want you to listen and listen good, okay (Y/n)?” I gave him a soft nod.  “I know a thing or two about trauma, hell my whole life has been nothing but one trauma after another.” I gave him a soft glare.  “The point is, I know, at least through the shitty mental standpoint, of what’s going through your head right now. And I’m here to tell you, you’re not alone anymore. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to share every detail with me right this second. Like I said, you went through some serious shit in that mall fire. And there’s not a day that I don’t regret not having been there that day for you. I was planning on bringing you lunch since you didn’t have breakfast that morning.”

“All because someone wanted to have an Indiana Jones movie marathon.”

“But you forget you accepted the invitation to said movie marathon so you are just as much to blame as I am.” He reprimanded as he booped my nose.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I muttered as I stroked through his hair.

“Anyways, I would’ve gone but then Gareth just had to ask me to help find a new snare for his drumkit and we had to make the drive outside of Hawkins for it. I may not have been there for you then, but I’m here for you now.”

“Thank you Nurse Munson.”

“That’s Doctor Munson to you little miss.”

“Oh yes right Doctor Munson, and what is my prescription Doc?”

“More watching your favorite movie and snuggles with your favorite trash panda.”

“You are not a trash panda!” I slapped his shoulder.

“Yes I am.”

“Alright if you’re one, then that makes me one too.”

“You can’t be one.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are too cute to be one.” He said placing his hand on the back of my head so that our foreheads were once again pressed against one another’s. “So I’m guessing you won’t be able to audition for the Spring Musical this year then, huh?” he asked me after a few minutes of silence of watching the Dance and the Gym scene now play out on the TV.

“Guess not. And such a damn shame, my last year and I can’t go out with a bang.”

“I know. I remember crying like a baby when you played Cinderella.”

“Ed that was when I was in 1st grade and you were in 3rd.”

“Well, still. You’ve always had the acting bug. I expect to see your name in the Hollywood stars one day. Alongside Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher and even your star crush Mark Hamill. ‘Oh Mark you’re soo dreamy, take me away on your ship to a far off galaxy!’” he mocked the last part in a higher pitch trying to copy my voice.  I lightly smacked his shoulder as he snickered.

“Thanks for the distraction.”

“Figure I let you off easy this time. You know what I usually do to distract you from your negative thoughts.” He teased threateningly as he wriggled his fingers at me menacingly.  I grasped his hand in mine and pinned it to the couch.

“Thank god you’re showing mercy.”

“But I hope you realize that as soon as that cast is off, I’m gonna be making up for lost time.”

“I’m really hoping you don’t.”

“Oh but I must. Can’t have my beautiful, beautiful (Y/n) feel neglected now can I?” Eddie cooed as he nuzzled his face into my neck, his wild mane tickling my neck (which of course the big shithead knew).

“Eddie! I yield I yield!” I said through my giggles.  He let out a soft whine but removed himself off me.

“Well only because you’ve yielded to Eddie the Banished.” he gave me a quick peck to my cheek before taking my arms and wrapping them back around over his shoulders resting over his chest as we went back to the movie.  “Imagine if this were to be the musical of Hawkins ’86.”

“You trying to make me even more depressed Munson?” I asked.

“Absolutely not. It just means this would be the first year I won’t be able to see you take the lead as the lovely Maria.”

“Please, for this musical there’s only one role I would want. And that’s Anita. Rita Moreno is a queen in this film. Reminds me a lot of my Tia Gabriela.”

“Yeah, I remember when she came for a visit from New York. Woman scared the shit out of me.”

“She can be intimidating but she’s also loving. Remember for Christmas back in Middle school she made you that shawl with your band’s name on it.”

“I still have that you know. I never go to The Hideout without it stashed in my van. Gives me luck.”

“And I know she appreciates that. She always said you were her favorite.”

“Really?”

“Don’t let that go to your head Munson.”

“Too late, if I get the approval of such a wonderful woman like your aunt Gabriela, then I know I must be doing something right.” I shoved his head playfully as he snickered and we went back to the movie.

It’s probably best that Eddie be kept out of the whole Hawkins curse thing.  At least with him, he helps make the stress of what I’ve experienced the last year feel like things are still normal and that we’re not in some countdown to the end of the world.  And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him in the clear from all that shit, God and Santa Maria above, at least give me that.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie munson fandom #joseph quinn #joseph quinn imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fandom #stranger things fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfic #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x female reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn imagines #netflix: stranger things

[visionsofmagic]

⎯ stories with song lyrics [requests are open/a request post]

Explanation: I was thinking about writing stories with some song lyrics I am in love with. Below, you can see these lyrics [some will be added as well from time to time] and characters/people’s name that I like and can write stories about them. So, you can message or ask me with a lyric [or more than one] and a specific character/person [it can be two character at one time a well]. Then, I will write it. ^^ Feel free to add your own imagination as well. Also, you don’t have to use lyrics to ask a requests.

Stories can be one-shorts, series, headcanons.

important notes: i really want to write about jk, tae [from bts], peter parker, wanda maximoff, and bucky barnes [from marvel], bats [from dc]. so, this ones will come sooner because i already have some ideas about them with some of these lyrics. so, you can request it as well or you can wait me for to write this without any request. ^^

྾   ྾   ྾   ྾   ྾   ྾   ྾   ྾   ྾   ྾   ྾

↬ for example: “I want to read a story about Jungkook with 1st song lyric.”

[or] “I want to read a story about steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes with 41st song lyric.”

[or] “I want to read a story about peter parker  with 9th and 45th song lyrics.”

Warnings for requests: please identify what gender you want it to be; female reader or male reader and please describe what you want to read, so, I can really understand your wishes. ^^ [also, it can be an original character as you wish, will created by me of course.]

◆ Characters/People

⌑ dc ⌑

Bruce Wayne/Batman [every version of him, especially robert p.], Clark Kent/Superman, John Constantine [movie version]

⌑ marvel ⌑

Steve Rogers/Captain America, Peter Parker/Spiderman [tom h. and andrew g. versions], Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier, Loki, Thor, Wanda Maximoff/The Scarlett Witch, Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow, Stephen Strange/Doctor Strange

⌑ tv series ⌑

The Boys (2019-) Billy Butcher, Homelander, Soldier Boy, Queen Maeve

The Sandman (2022-) Morpheus/Dream/The Sandman, Corinthian/Nightmare

⌑ movies, movie series ⌑

Star Wars (not specific movie) Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader, Obi Wan Kenobi [tv series’ version as well]

Uncharted (2022) Nathan Drake - also game version too.

Twilight (all of them) Edward Cullen, Alice Cullen

In time (2011) Raymond Leon

American Psycho (2001) Patrick Bateman

John Wick (whole series) John Wick

The Prestige (2006) Alfred Borden

⌑ idols, actors, actresses ⌑

bts [especially jk & tae], chris evans, elizabeth olsen, sebastian stan, tom hiddlestion, tom holland, chris evans, robert pattinson     

◆ Lyrics

1. A little bit older. A black leather jacket. A bad reputation. Insatiable habits. He was onto me, one look and I couldn't breathe. Yeah, I said, “If you kiss me, I might let it happen.” ▸my oh my, camila cabello [m]

2. Our secret moments in your crowded room. They've got no idea about me and you. & Say my name and everything just stops. I don't want you like a best friend. Only bought this dress so you could take it off▸dress, taylor swift [m]

3. I'm not here for games. I told you what it is, you chose to stay, oh. Baby, you chose the pain. 'Cause you don't know me, you just know my name, oh ▸renegade, aaryan shah [dark theme]

4. You don't know what you did, did to me. Your body lightweight speaks to me▸under the influence, chris brown

5. Please understand that I'm trying my hardest. My head's a mess but I'm trying regardless. Anxiety is one hell of a problem▸consume, chase atlantic [angst]

6. Bend it over slow 'cause daddy I know how you like it. Backseat of the 'Rari pullin' over just to ride it. Make you get down on your knees. Can't always havе what you please. This bitch ain't comin' for free & you know I carry a knife. You should be scared for your life. 'Cause you know I don't play nice▸oh mami, chase atlantic ft. maggie lindemann [m]

7. Don't worry, my hands. They're only warm for you. If I'm ruining you right now. Please forgive me. Because I can't live without you▸pied piper, bts

8. Someone told me stay away from things that aren't yours. But was he yours, if he wanted me so bad? Pacify her. She's getting on my nerves. You don't love her. Stop lying with those words.▸pacify her, melanie martinez

9. And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me". I can't help this awful energy. God damn right, you should be scared of me. Who is in control? ▸control, halsey [villain vibe]

10. There's parts of me I cannot hide. I've tried and tried a million times. Cross my heart and hope to die. Welcome to my darkside▸darkside, neoni [villain vibe]

11. And if somebody hurts you, I wanna fight. But my hands been broken one too many times. So I'll use my voice, I'll be so fucking rude. Words they always win, but I know I'll lose▸another love, tom odell [angst]

12. Terribly like terrible, she's the villain. One as sweet as caramel, she's my saint. Think I'm getting butterflies, but it's really. Something telling me to run away▸inferno, bella poarch & sub urban

13. I could be a better boyfriend than him. I could do the shit that he never did. Up all night, I won't quit. Thinking I'm gonna steal you from him. I could be such a gentleman. Plus all my clothes would fit▸boyfriend, dove cameron [from this lyrics, I am getting a big vibe of wanda x f!reader, so, you know what I mean]

14. I keep forgetting I should let you go. But when you look at me. The only memory is us kissing in the moonlight▸can’t remember to forget you, shakira & rihanna

15. Yeah, we danced on tabletops, and we took too many shots. Think we kissed, but I forgot last Friday night▸last friday night, katy perry

16. Don't blame me, love made me crazy. If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right. Lord, save me, my drug is my baby. I'll be usin' for the rest of my life ▸don’t blame me, taylor swift

17. Call me in the morning to apologize. Every little lie gives me butterflies. Something in the way you're looking through my eyes. Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive▸teeth, 5sos

18. Six feet tall and super strong. We'd always get along. Alright, alright. Ooh, he'd pick me up at eight. And not a minute late. 'Cause I don't like to wait, no. Kind and ain't afraid to cry. Or treat his mama right. That's right, that's what I like▸guy.exe, superfruit [fluff]

19. I'm in love with a fairytale. Even though it hurts. 'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind. I'm already cursed▸bad blood, taylor swift [note for this one; I added these part but I will write with whole lyrics because this song’s every lyric is amazing for an au, or a love story]

20. And you're startin' to bore me, baby. Why'd you only call me when you're high?▸why’d you only call me when you’re high?, arctic monkeys [protective or possessive vibe]

21. But you didn't have to cut me off. Make out like it never happened. And that we were nothing. And I don't even need your love. But you treat me like a stranger. And that feels so rough▸somebody that i used to know, gotye

22. Right now, I'm shameless. Screamin' my lungs out for ya. Not afraid to face it. I need you more than I want to▸shameless, camila cabello

23. We laugh together, we cry together. These simple feelings were everything I had. When will it be?. If I see you again. I will look into your eyes. And say, "I missed you"▸still with you, jungkook

24. She said, "Fuck me like I'm famous", I said, "Okay"▸slow down, chase atlantic [m]

25. You're too late. Had your girlfriend at my house for two days. Should be obvious, the reason she stayed with me▸too late, chase atlantic [m]

26. Where have you been? Do you know when you're coming back? 'Cause since you've been gone. I've got along but I've been sad▸reflections, the neighbourhood [angst]

27. And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime. And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine.▸dandelions, ruth b. [fluff]

28. You'll never know the psychopath sitting next to you. You'll never know the murderer sitting next to you. You'll think, "How'd I get here, sitting next to you?" But after all I've said, please don't forget ▸heathens, twenty one pilots [dark theme, like mafia au]

29. But mama I'm in love with a criminal. And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical.▸criminal, britney spears [this one is like mafia au too]

30. Oh, dear diary, I met a boy. He made my doll heart light up with joy. Oh, dear diary, we fell apart. Welcome to the life of Electra Heart.▸ bubblegum bitch, marina

31. Come on, don't be silly. I beg of you, stop. I'm sure that he doesn't reflect. What he really is▸ainsi bas la vida, indila [dark theme]

32. I can't be your Superman. Can't be your Superman & Don't get me wrong, I love these hoes. It's no secret everybody knows. Yeah, we fucked, bitch, so what? That's about as far as your buddy goes & I never loved you enough to trust you. We just met and I just fucked you▸superman, eminem [so much homelander vibe]

33. You think I'm crazy, you think I'm gone. So what if I'm crazy? All the best people are. And I think you're crazy too, I know you're gone. That's probably the reason that we get along▸mad hatter, melanie martinez [dark theme]

34. I'm tired of being home alone. Used to have a girl a day. But I want you to stay. ▸ lost in the fire, the weekend [playboy vibe]

35. We found each other. I helped you out of a broken place. You gave me comfort. But falling for you was my mistake.▸ call out my name, the weekend

36. Give it to me daddy, that's what she keeps screamin'. Give it to me daddy, She love the way I beat it.& Lights down low, time to get naughty. ▸lights down low, maejor ft. waka flocka flame [m]

37. You can say what you like, don't say I wouldn't die for you. I, I'm down on my knees and I need you to be my God. Be my help, be a savior who can.▸ train wreck, james arthur [angst, mainly]

39. We used to be close, but people can go. From people you know to people you don't. And what hurts the most is people can go. From people you know to people you don't ▸ people you know, selena gomez

38. One: Don't pick up the phone. You know he's only callin' 'cause he's drunk and alone

Two: Don't let him in, you'll have to kick him out again

Three: Don't be his friend. You know you're gonna wake up in his bed in the mornin'

And if you're under him, you ain't gettin' over him.▸new rules, dua lipa

40. Saw you there and I thought. "Oh, my God, look at that face. You look like my next mistake. Love's a game, wanna play?" ▸blank space, taylor swift

41. I know I can treat you better than he can. And any girl like you deserves a gentleman. Tell me, why are we wasting time. On all your wasted crying. When you should be with me instead? ▸ treat you better, shawn mendes [love triangle vibe]

42. Only love can hurt like this. Must have been a deadly kiss & But every time you're there I'm begging you to stay. When you come close I just tremble. And every time, every time you go. It's like a knife that cuts right through my soul▸only love can hurt like this, paloma faith

43. I heard from a friend of a friend. That that dick was a ten out of ten ▸ need to know, doja cat [m]

44. Evil, I've come to tell you that she's evil, most definitely. Evil, ornery, scandalous and evil, most definitely ▸ doin’ time, lana del rey

45. Baby, I'm a sociopath. Sweet serial killer. On the warpath. 'Cause I love you just a little too much ▸ serial killer, lana del rey [dark theme, dark!nat and wanda vibes or dark!mc/reader with a pretty boy like peter p.]

46. Guys my age don't know how to treat me. Don't know how to treat me. Don't know how to treat me. Guys my age don't know how to touch me. Don't know how to love me good ▸ guys my age, hey violet [mature, sugar!daddy/mommy theme]

love, rose <3

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perseprose/profile you can request in ao3 too. i will publish this in there too.

[masterlist]

#mcu #dc #the boys #the sandman #star wars #marvel x reader #dc x reader #batman x reader #billy butcher x reader #bts #bts x reader #actresses #actors #idols #written by me #do not steal #morpheus #request #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #homelander #fanfiction #masterlist #the sandman x reader #obi wan kenobi #edward cullen #twilight #nathan drake #Raymond Leon #Patrick Bateman

[themodernsimmer]

rating sims 4 expansions

hey all!!! i’m gonna be rating the sims 4 expansions i have and telling you whether i think they’re worth it! these are in chronological order.

Get To Work

rating: 8.5/10

get to work is def a must have pack for me. i don’t really use the careers like doctor, detective, scientist but the aspect of making your own business offers SO much gameplay and is just a huge blast. i just wish that they had the option of live-in business without mods and aliens left more to be desired. also not a huge magnolia promenade fan, but still love this pack. def one of the best packs to buy as your first.

Get Together

rating: 8/10

this was pretty strong for the second pack ts4 released. there isn’t a huge amount of gameplay here but i do really enjoy the clubs because that way i can create my own friend groups or support groups for sims which adds to story a lot. also one of the best worlds ever and the build/buy is pretty good too. another good one for a first pack.

City Living

rating: 9/10

listen, i think as simmers we can all agree that city living is one of the best packs ever. it’s really unique in terms of living spaces and i think having the option to move your sim to an apartment offers a lot for storylines. the only reason it doesn’t get a 10/10 is because there isn’t a lot of gameplay other than unlocking apartments. for that reason i wouldn’t recommend this as a first or second expansion, but regardless one of my favorites.

Cats & Dogs

rating: 7/10

i love being able to give my sims pets! this was actually one of the more recent packs i got so i haven’t had it for very long, but it’s been fun. i’m not a HUGE fan of the vet career but it can be fun for a little while. the only thing that annoys me about this one is how easy it is to take up household slots with pets.

Seasons

rating: 8/10

seasons has a special place in my heart. it’s one of those packs that’s so integrated into my gameplay that sometimes i forget it’s even an expansion. the build/buy stuff is wonderful and holidays can be such a blast if you’re into that. however, it bothers me that this is an expansion since obviously seasons should have been a base game aspect. despite that i love this pack.

Get Famous

rating: 6.5/10

oh, get famous. this was actually the first pack i ever bought. i enjoyed it a lot at the time but now that i have more i see this as one of the weaker packs. it’s not bad by any means and it was fun as my first pack, but for me it’s just not that memorable now. i feel like i don’t really use fame a lot but that’s just due to my own gameplay style! def offers a lot of storylines but i don’t find myself using it a ton. i wish there were more options for child stars.

Island Living

rating: 8.5/10

i feel like this pack is overlooked a lot! i still have a lot of fun with this one. mermaids are such a cool occult despite there not being a ton of special abilities with them. Sulani is just an awesome world to me!!! summer on sulani is my favorite. who doesn’t love an off the grid beach house? as an avid builder, they’re some of my favorites to make.

Discover University

rating: 7/10

i don’t always have my sims go to uni, but when i do i have a lot of fun with it. building dorms is a blast for me (using cheats, ofc). i also love using the basemental drugs mod with university. this is a fun expansion but def not for everyone. i just wish there were more interactions for teachers/classes instead of the rabbit hole. also secret societies could have been so cool if they’d been more elaborate so that takes my rating down a bit.

Snowy Escape

rating: 5/10

this might be controversial. sorry to anyone that’s a huge fan of this one. skiiing and snowboarding are fun but there’s just not enough gameplay to make this pack worth it to me. the build/buy is pretty cool but i could totally play without this pack to be honest. i see this one as kind of an opposite to island living but it doesn’t match up to the level that island living is on for me.

Cottage Living

rating: 10/10

my all time favorite pack. i think it’s genuinely so fun for my sims to run a farm and Henford-on-Bagley is so quaint. this pack totally lived up to my expectations and exceeded them! it’s not a great first expansion pack but one i would totally recommend it!

High School Years

rating: 7.5/10

This is the last one i have since i’m missing Eco and Growing Together. nostalgia definitely plays a factor in my opinion on this one since it was such a nostalgic time in my life when this came out! i know this pack got a lot of hate (which i feel like is a typical response from the community) but the build/buy is so good and it’s nice to have the option to go to school. i wish the cheer/sports team matches were better though and the default school is so bad. still a fun pack to me and i’m glad i have it since i think it adds a lot for teen sims.

that’s all for now! i’ll update if/when i get the other two (and ofc horse ranch). hope you enjoy!!!

#sims4cc #ts4 builds #sims 4 maxis match #high school years #get together #get to work #island living #cottage living #discover university #snowy escape #city living #cats & dogs #ts4 seasons #ts4 horse ranch #ts4 packs

[forgottenlivesobverse]

The Island of Aeons

The first story in Forgotten Lives 2 is James Bojacuik's 'The Island of Aeons', in which the Christopher Barry Doctor takes a sea voyage. James answers some questions about his story and the book...

What made you want to write for Forgotten Lives 2?

Imagine if Doctor Who had a secret history, stretching back alongside the history of film and science fiction. I love how Forgotten Lives explores an imaginary version of Doctor Who's development, and I adore the fun that can be had telling stories in now uncommon (but never outdated) styles. A little bit pastiche, a little bit mockumentary, a little bit of a spin on the games Sherlockians play, Forgotten Lives is some of the most fun I've had with Doctor Who. The moment I had the chance, I knew I needed to write for it. It added light to my life when I needed it most! What's your story about?

An unimaginable treasure waits on a secret island. Pirates and a mysterious expedition race across the globe to claim it for themselves. Amidst it all, the Doctor faces an impossible choice. What did you most enjoy about writing for this version of the Doctor?

Standing at the hazy earliest history of Doctor Who, the Christopher Barry Doctor is shrouded in mystery. All of the aspects we take for granted--the TARDIS, regeneration, even time travel--are still being figured out and often only exist by implication. And yet, he also embodies so much of what 'later' writers and actors would pull out of the character. While I see signs of all the classic Doctors, he most strongly recalls our first two. He is as stern and grandfatherly as Hartnell; as playful and tenacious as Troughton. Any adult will easily doubt him, but any child would instinctively adopt him. What were the influences on your story, and what genre were you writing in?

First and foremost, Simon Bucher-Jones's story for the first collection. I wanted to write something at peace with his mysterious early history of Doctor Who. His stories for the Barry Doctor play with being reconstructions from scanty sources: a few frames of footage, some remaining documents of doubtful provenance. In that vein, 'The Island of Aeons' is a story from the pulps of the early 1930s, a 'novelization' of a lost talkie matinee film or serial. A film that would have delighted children of the depression: swashbuckling pirates, horrible monsters made with in-camera special effects and gorgeous make-up, elaborate sets that stretch beyond the imagination, larger than life heroes and villains, and an unerring moral compass. A film that did not need Technicolor to roar with all the colour of life. These were the movies I was raised on, and adored, even at 60+ years remove. Somewhere, the child I was cheered. But this is 'the story of the film', as a pulp byline would have put it in a blazing font. And as such, its true home is in the crumbling, vanilla-scented pages of the popular magazines. The next strongest inspiration were the pulp fantasy stories of authors like Robert E Howard. Fantasy stories taking place in wholly invented worlds were still rare; instead, they wrote stories that took place in reassembled versions of history, where cultures stood at their most recognizable point and set against each other. 'Rome' is always about to fall. 'Egypt' is always a bastion of high culture under the pharaohs. 'Greece' is always Athens and Sparta and the controversies of the philosophers. The middle east's equivalent preserves lost learning, and  'Britain' shines in an Arthurian dawn. This story imagines what would happen if the Doctor was thrown into a world where all the romantic heights of the ancient and medieval world have congealed into a new form. He fights to preserve the lives here, and in history as it 'should' be. 'The Island of Aeons' can be found in Exciting Adventures, a magazine sold by any quality imaginary news stand. In the real world, we are lucky enough to find it in Forgotten Lives II.

Aside from the one you've used, which of the Forgotten Lives Doctors is your favourite?

I especially love the Robert Banks Stewart Doctor as I adore occult detectives, British supernatural horror literature from the 1940s, and B&W British horror films. I also have particular soft spots for Chuckaboo and his companion the Gallaccio Doctor, Jilly and Cedric and their companion/father the Christopher Baker Doctor, and the Hinchcliffe Doctor.

Can you describe your story's Doctor in three words?

The Definitive Article.

#forgotten lives ii #morbius doctors #christopher barry #doctor who