#‘you could have planned this out better’ Bitch I am the first person in my immediate family

[strohller27]

.

[falling-endlessly]

Boomerang (part 3)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: Your infuriating ex is planning something, and it's putting everyone on edge. But if he wants at the hotel, he'll have to go through you (and Alastor) first.

<— Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

—6 HOURS AGO—

"What," Valentino growled, claws creating cracks in the table from how hard he was gripping it. "The fuck did you just say?"

Velvette was no better. Her lip was pulled into a furious snarl, and for once her phone was nowhere to be seen. "Vox, are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Relax," Vox reclined in his chair, raising a brow at his murderous business partners. Velvette's eye twitched and the table creaked in protest under Valentino's fury. "I'm not actually going for redemption, damn, calm your tits people."

"What happened to keeping up an image for the brand?" Velvette banged a fist against her armrest, gritting her teeth. "The Morningstar bitch was literally humiliated on live television, and now you're going to personally advertise for her?!"

"The next extermination is coming sooner than ever, and people are getting desperate. This little publicity stunt can work in our favor," Vox crossed his claws under his chin, megawatt smile growing. "What's a little pity pitch going to hurt? Think about it, I can gather intel, fuck up Alastor's little project, and show Y/n where her allegiances should lie. Win-win-win," he chuckled ominously.

"Cut the shit, Vox," Valentino scoffed, leaning forward to sneer in his face. "It's obvious you're only going this far for that bitch. Can't keep a leash on your toys, hm?"

Vox grit his teeth, digging his claws into his thighs under the table. He knew this wasn't going to go over well, but to be talked down to by someone who was benefiting from him? "So what if I am?" He hid his rage with a large, mocking grin. "And by the way, where's Angel Dust? Haven't seen him around in a while."

Val's face twisted with rage. "You fucking—"

"Enough!" Velvette snapped, glaring at both of them. "I don't have time for this stupid shit. Get on with it or this meeting is over."

Vox's unhinged smile slowly relaxed into his charming PR one. "Of course, my apologies Velvette, Val. I can see why you're not...convinced yet. Let me fix that."

The projector on the wall suddenly sparked to life, displaying three pie charts and a legend with many colorful categories. He gestured to them from left to right. "This is a distribution of our profits from ten years ago, five years ago, and last year."

"We have eyes," Velvette droned boredly.

Vox's antennae sparked in irritation, but he continued regardless. "Y/n's helped develop countless programs and softwares, and with her expertise our earnings jumped thirty seven percent, especially during the collaboration between Voxtek and DeepSpace VR. Now, what happens now that she's taken her business elsewhere? Hell knows she has the computing power to run it without our servers—"

"So, we're supposed to just bend over backwards for a few bucks?" Valentino snarled, crossing his arms.

Vox's screen glitched as he struggled to keep his composure. Thirty seven percent was not just a few bucks. But he knew antagonizing Val right now was more trouble than it was worth. "Val," he chuckled, sauntering forward to rest a hand on the backrest of Valentino's chair, leaning into his space. "Since when have you said no to money?" His eye widened, rings spinning.

"Since it walked out on two legs and ignored us," Valentino snorted.

"Val, I need you to see the bigger picture!" He grasped both of Valentino's shoulders, moving behind him so he could speak enticingly into his ear. "This is an opportunity to keep our brand at the top, and get dirt on that radio bitch. The future is what matters, and we are going to be the ones pioneering it."

The projector flickered to one of the surveillance cameras pointed at an exterior angle of the hotel. Then, the image suddenly rippled to show an artificial video of the same property, but instead of the tacky hotel, there stood a modern building adorned with a bright, neon V logo.

Valentino's smile grew at his last sentence, and he turned in his seat, leaning his forehead to rest against Vox's screen. "I like your vision, Cariño," he purred, grinning wickedly to show off his golden tooth. "But, if your little money-making cocksleeve doesn't come back, well, don't say I didn't tell you so~" he said in a sing-song voice, long tongue coming up to lick languidly along the side of Vox's monitor.

Vox's grin froze on his face, screen glitching.

Valentino chuckled, pushing out of his seat before strutting away. "Oh, and Vox baby," he threw a saucy wink over his shoulder. "Come find me when you get lonely, yeah?"

The double doors slammed shut behind him, bathing the room in silence. Which Velvette quickly broke, of course.

"What the fuck, Vox?" She scrubbed a hand down her face. "All this for a profit we can afford to lose? Really?"

"Velvette," his smile twitched up to full, blinding attention again. "Have I ever let you down before? Everything is under control, trust me!"

"Uh huh," Velvette scowled, unconvinced. "You know, Alastor and Y/n are the only people you've ever really lost it for, and you're going to a place where there's both of them."

"What, you don't think I can handle myself?" His smile strained.

Velvette shook her head, standing up from her chair and approaching him. "You know, that PR shit might work on everyone else, but I can see through your bullshit, Vox," she gave him a hard stare. "Just don't fuck everything up, got it? Or I'll make you wish you didn't."

His fists clenched as she walked past him, smile dropping into a scowl as soon as she was out of view.

****

—PRESENT—

"Whatever you do, make sure he's at least ten floors away from me," you muttered to Vaggie, watching as Charlie gave the bane of your existence an awkward tour of the hotel.

The atmosphere was so tense and suffocating, it was starting to make you incredibly antsy. The others were no better. Angel was drumming his fingers anxiously on the bar counter, Niffty was curiously regarding the new "resident" and Husk was already chugging his second bottle of hard liquor. Holy hell, and you couldn't even forget about Alastor if you tried, the radio demon releasing a constant stream of static and looking about ready to sacrifice someone—preferably Vox—in an incredibly painful and sadistic ritual.

"I can't believe she's letting him stay," Angel hissed under his breath, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "Actually no, what am I saying? This is Charlie, of course she'd let him stay. God damnit."

A tap on your shoulder made you turn around, only to find your favorite stiff drink on the counter behind you. You nodded gratefully at Husk, taking the glass and throwing it back like water.

"At least the hotel's in one piece!" Niffty chirped, her one eye back to tracking any stray insects. "Less mess to clean up." Her knife gleamed as she stabbed a cockroach clean in half with a deranged giggle.

"This isn't going to end well," Vaggie scowled darkly. "He's going to try something, I fucking know it."

"Yeah, no shit," Angel groaned, Husk grunting in agreement.

"Or," Pentious chimed in, hair flaring thoughtfully. "He truly does want to redeem himself?"

There was a silence as everyone turned to look at him incredulously, before a unanimous, resounding "no," rang out.

****

"Anddd here's your room key," Charlie presented it to him with a flourish, beaming brightly. "We hope you enjoy your stay! Breakfast, lunch and dinner are served downstairs in the dinning room, or you can go out and get your own food! We'll get your survey ready for you tomorrow so that you can start building your schedule."

"Schedule?" He quirked a brow, taking the room key from her outstretched hand. "For what, exactly?"

"Oh! Um," Charlie laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "We actually host group therapy activities and trust exercises with the other staff and residents! You'll fill out a short survey so that we can personalize—"

"O-kay, let me stop you there, sweetheart," he chuckled, grin widening condescendingly. "I think it's great what you're doing, really, I do. But I've already got a schedule, and a billion dollar company to run. I'm quite the busy man, you know?"

Charlie furrowed her brow. "But—"

"Seriously, my sales would fall and what would my clients say? Hm?" A crowd booing track played in the background as Vox shook his head like she was just some uneducated child. "So thanks, but no thanks." He shot her a wink, before the door slammed in her face.

Charlie blinked in shock, taking a few seconds to process that she'd been dismissed in her own hotel. Her shoulders slumped as she trudged away.

But that only lasted for a few steps, before she perked right back up. What was she thinking? Giving up so quickly on one of her clients?

Charlie grinned, smacking a fist into her palm. She'd just have to try harder.

Unbeknownst to her, a figure had been watching the entire exchange from the shadows. Your jaw clenched, claws digging into the drywall.

"Unbelievable," you shook your head in disdain.

****

As soon as the door shut, Vox deflated like a balloon.

"Fuckkk," he hissed under his breath, sliding down the door tiredly. "The hell am I doing?"

He allowed himself only a few minutes to wallow in self-pity, before he sighed, pushing off the floor and getting to work. In less than twenty minutes, he had the whole room wired to his needs, electronic Voxtek devices littering the previously empty spaces. Now he had a way to travel without leaving his room.

He was just about to dematerialize into one of his laptops when a familiar, chilling presence made him freeze.

"Why, you only just got here! Don't tell me you're leaving already," Alastor chuckled, tilting his head in mock concern.

The radio demon was leaning an elbow against his dresser, just casually invading his privacy. God, just his smug face made Vox want to kill him already.

"What's it to you, old timer?" Vox sneered, electricity sparking from his claws in agitation. "Unlike you, some of us actually have responsibilities. So if you don't mind—"

"Oh my, breaking your word to Y/n already!" Alastor shook his head with a grin, sound effects of a heckling crowd emanating from his microphone cane. "How very...disappointing. Truly, I'd expect better from you!"

Vox's eye widened, the swirling rings on full display as his teeth grinded in rage. "Y-y-y-you keep her fucking name out of your filthy, cannibalistic mouth! You hear me?" He glitched furiously, electricity sparking in glowing webs from his monitor.

"Aha! Someone's a little on edge," Alastor laughed in tandem with an artificial, mocking laugh track. "Really, that was too easy! You're losing your touch."

"Get the fuck out of my room!" Vox snapped.

"Gladly," the radio demon grinned menacingly, the corners of his mouth stretching to unnatural proportions. "But first, I came to deliver a little message."

Vox gritted his teeth, curling his fists by his sides. His electricity buzzed under his skin, ready to electrocute the fuck out of this crazy fucker if he needed to.

"If you and your merry band of idiots pull even the smallest stunt to sabotage the hotel," Alastor approached him, antlers growing as his eyes turned to radio dials. "I think you'll find out that absence did not make my heart grow fonder."

"What, don't tell me you actually care about this place," Vox grinned, baring his teeth. "The whole redemption thing doesn't really seem to be up your alley, no offense."

"Oh, of course not! Haha! Don't be ridiculous," Alastor chuckled like he'd said something hilarious, but it was overlayed with bursts of radio static. "But I'm afraid I've invested too much in this source of entertainment for you to ruin it with your cheap, unoriginal touch."

The message was clear: don't touch my things.

Vox curled his lip, unwilling to back down no matter how utterly disturbing Alastor's demon form was up close. It gave him chilling flashbacks of their last explosive disagreement. "Then stay away from Y/n," he spat.

Alastor's grin widened, eyes glowing an eerie green as he held out his hand. "Is that a deal?"

Vox grimaced, looking at Alastor's creepy, voodoo doll appearance. "Hell no, you creepy fucker."

Then, like whiplash, Alastor's demon form receded and the air became breathable again. "Well, glad we cleared that up, then!" He laughed exuberantly, twirling his cane. "Nice catching up, chum!"

The demon grinned as he disappeared into shadowy wisps of smoke, melding with the darkness against the walls.

Vox's jaw clenched, electric anger vibrating through him and rattling his teeth. "Fuck!" He kicked over the first thing he saw, which happened to be a wooden workbench. It took a few deep breaths for him to finally calm down and collect his thoughts.

When he was no longer at risk of causing a city-wide outage again (that had been fucking embarrassing), he made his way back to his laptop like he was originally planning to do, only to pause in shock when he saw the brand new device short circuiting, screen full of pixelated static.

An explosive rage convulsed in his chest, the lights in the hotel flickering ominously.

"You red bambi ass fucker!"

****

<—Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

Taglist: @pooplyface1423 @spookysisters @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @neito327 @hxzbinwrites @coleisyn @bababahannah @yellowsubiesdance @dirk-strides @justaspectatorforfandomarts @harmoira @sunnyslug @gum-iie @lady-valtieri @mit-suri @whatelsecouldgowrong @sillysimplysilky @eternalera @aoiyx @hazellight11 @hopefully-not @tsuvvy @imcryinginemo @dinorawrss @rekoloid @ayesha-eroticax3 @sle3pyh3ad2 @l0verboyxoxo1111

[ecoamerica]

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[taurder]

Rude

top!dom!reader x bottom!miguel o'hara.

contains: edging, dacryphilia, begging, mentions of exhibitionism, oral (character receiving), spanking, fingering, degrading, bondage (hands tied up), dom/sub, power play? implied spider-person reader.

note: i really am getting all this spiderverse scenarios out of my head now.

"that was very rude, you know? you don't just shut people up mid briefing". you say casually, delivering the seventh spank into miguel's ass, hearing him moan against the piece of clothing you shoved into his mouth. "you were mad we haven't had time to do this? please, you were just bitching" you loved how every single one added to the red color in his glutes.

again he pushed back at you, a needy whine being muffled and again you slapped his thigh as punishment right after giving him another spank with your bare hand. he had been really rude in the meeting earlier, snapping at everyone, doing sarcastic remarks and cutting people off mid speech.

but here with you he was shivering, pretty and quick to apologize over and over again when you scolded his behavior. just minutes ago he had been serving your dick with his mean tongue. sucking and jerking you off while you pulled his hair, pushing it backwards as you saw him spread his thighs while being on his knees, probably trying to have his suit giving pressure in his own unattended cock.

you came in his mouth with no warning minutes later, pushing him off and remarking that you'd be as mean with him as he was with the others. "please, i didn't mean to. i'll be better, i promise" he begged more than once when you continued toying with his body. once he stood up again you guided him to the bed, pushing him to have his face against the mattress, his feet still on the floor as his long legs made it so his lower back was slightly arched.

and so you fingered him with lots of lube, until the wet sounds were impossible to ignore each time you went inside him. his moans became louder, his hands clenching at the sheets when you used your other hand to also stimulate his member, keeping the rhythm your fingers fucking him had.

more time passing, more sinful sounds and apologies coming from his mouth once he realized you weren't planning on letting him cum soon. you had four fingers in already when you heard the first sob, your own dick twitching as you checked on him. "you made me do this, miguel, how else am i gonna punish you for your bad behavior?" he knew the pause was to made sure you could continue, and so he turn to see you, nodding with teary eyes and pushing back against you.

"i'm sorry i was rude" he groaned when you squeezed his dick again, keeping him from cumming when he was feeling so close again. "i really am– fuck. please, please, i'll be good" you then pushed your fingers out, and so the spanking began short after. you decided to give him one for each spider-person he was rude to, and he took them well enough, getting his tears in the bed in the process.

"why were you apologizing to me anyways? you should be saying those things to the others" and here you were, with miguel still in the same position, except you have added some rope around his wrists, pulling his hands behind his back and the clothing in his mouth when he wouldn't stop asking for release six spanks in. he had been ten minutes silent after that, and much more time at the edge of cumming. his twitching dick oozing pre cum a prove of that.

"but then again you wouldn't do this to apologize to the others, would you?" another slap. "nah, you just give them your bitchy attitude to then come to me to be treated like one, right?" you delivered the final spank right into his hole, watching his legs tense up and pushing his ass up as a reflex. "you think they'll be as hurt with your words if they saw you like this?" a groan followed by a muffled moan was your answer and you were kind enough to remove the clothing now.

"well? should we ever show them the big intimidating spider-man being fucked?" you hear him swear, eyes closed when you grab his hips. "show them how that menacing voice of yours turns into slutty moans?" you guide your cock into his hole, and when you hear him sighing in relief with a low yes you chuckle. "yes? you want everyone to see their boss being submissive and good?"

"no! no– please, just you. i've been good, yes? i'll be better, i swear" he pushes back again, desperate, keening when you don't move away, letting him impale himself into your cock. "aghhgh yes, yesss, mggh– please fuck me. want you to so so bad" you don't respond and he sobs again, really pushing himself until you're totally inside him.

he arches his back more, moving his shoulders and wiggling his ass again to provoke you. feeling no movement however he softly swears again, starting to move on his own, pushing back and moving up, grinding his body into the bed to fuck himself, wanting more. "please, please sir, i need it" a little sniff and some seconds more of your torture and you finally give in.

you can hear his breathy whine when you finally thrust back with his movements, setting a fast rhythm when you can't delay anymore your own pleasure. you fuck him hard, getting your dick almost completely out to them go right back in, hitting his prostate and making him wail. you grab his glutes to push them apart, loving to see how his hole takes you with no protest, moaning on your own when you let go and those glutes bounce a little. this encourages you go deeper, be meaner with each thrust.

miguel thanks you over and over, his words slurring out so prettily that is almost over for you. he comes first, screaming your name loudly as his dick finally gets the release it needed. you can see how his hands get into fists from the pleasure and you have put him in this position enough times in the past to know even without looking that he's biting his lip, eyes up in his head while the sheets get painted in seed along with the floor.

you thrust into him a couple more times enjoying hearing him moan, being oversensitive as you cum too, making him take your hot seed inside. it takes you both some time to stabilize your breathing, and you begin untying miguel's hands still being inside him. "learned your lesson?" you ask, caressing his sides and letting out a surprised sound followed by a soft laugh when you feel his hole squeezing your dick. "guess not".

"i might need more than that".

[chrollohearttags]

long winded ass post I contemplated not writing but did it anyways. read if you’d like or ignore lmao.

so I feel as though this kind of goes without saying but a lot has changed on tumblr and the vibe has shifted a lot, sadly, not for the better either :/ I thought about this for a while and although last week, I was not posting any new content due to the strike, I’ve decided to step away from writing in general after this month. I could sit here and go on a tangent about how it’s the ‘algorithm’ and ‘dying fandoms’ but to me, this boils down to the fact that I refuse to exhaust myself to be unappreciated + disrespected. That’s not to say I’m ungrateful to everyone who reblogs and comments on my works all the time because I am incredibly grateful! I love each of you and I look forward to reading your tags/thoughts. However, it’s not lost on me that the anime fandom in general is becoming shrouded in toxicity and many of us are being pushed away. We’re in an age where people are seen as content machines and not humans so others feel entitled to their art and feel no need to be kind, understanding or empathetic to that person’s feelings. I’m not wasting my time trying to teach people manners that they should’ve learned a long time ago. I refuse to share my craft with people like that. And to say the quietest part out loud: y’all don’t want black writers around, PERIOD. One scroll through the dash shows that much. As someone who’s written primarily for AOT (not changing btw) and specifically the black side of the fandom, it’s almost laughable at the extreme lengths that ppl have gone through to see it be erased. And I don’t mean getting fics hit with labels or reporting (that failed so they switched to plan B.) since I began back writing in 2020-21, it was obvious that it was the most popular among black girls and I remember ppl telling me to write for them. Hell, it’s the sole reason I even watched. Needless to say, I fell in love with the show and it holds a special place in my heart. However, I realized I didn’t need any of the original material. Not only that, in all the years I’ve been writing, it’s the first time I’ve seen so many black girls resonating and happy with a group of characters. It was the first and only time I’ve seen stories where I didn’t feel as though them being a black character was a hidden secret or toned down to appeal to others (no shade). It was in my face and proud, even if I didn’t personally resonate with the reader or concept of the story. It still felt good coming from a fandom where I was literally the ONLY black writer in it. Fast forward and I clearly see that now, it’s not welcomed. We could sit here and blame it on non-blk (yt) having the problems but that’s a load of bullshit and the only enemies we have are one another. It’s been other black writers who have littered the tags with discourse abt the same stupid topic to avoid new fics being seen. It’s been other black writers who have switched fandoms when they were no longer the ONLY ones bc coexisting is just too damn hard apparently. It’s been other black authors who have made it blatantly clear that they are only interested in seeing and creating stories that are palatable to other races so they won’t be perceived in a negative light or to be seen as one of the ‘good ones’. Even down to not using black reader tags or avoiding coded language. So much so, they are comfortable laughing at anti-black rhetoric being pushed on other apps so as long as their new favs are not the brunt of the joke.

I’m not here to tell anybody how or what to write. I’m not here to say you ONLY have to like one show but what I am saying is that i will NOT be spending hours and days agonizing over a fic for it to be minimized to a joke for a bitch on TikTok. I will not spend the little free time I have trying to crunch and finish a fic for it not do well but watch y’all pile in my mentions to argue over nonsense. And I won’t sit here and watch y’all purposely try to run other black writers away bc they don’t fit ur aesthetic. Fiction is fiction and whether you resonate with it or not, it’s expression. I’m a boring ass country bumpkin from the middle of nowhere, Florida who’s got social anxiety, chronically ill, neurodivergent and is in bed by 10:00. I don’t smoke, never had sex and I literally never leave the house unless I’m grocery shopping. I never have and never will live the life of any of my characters, even the most tame ones. But I write for EVERY black girl and want everyone of them to be seen. The one space where that seems to be allowed is obviously not welcomed anymore. Arguing and trying to defend ourselves against people who are committed to misunderstanding us is pointless. Minimizing us down to ‘baby mama’, ‘hoodrat’ fics, simply bc you no longer like certain characters (many of which you all were writing for not too long ago) is quite frankly clown and coon ass behavior. Watching y’all become enraged by tropes that are used by ever race, every fandom, etc but turning the blind eye bc it suits ur narrative is fucking hypocritical and laughable at best.

I’m not insecure in my writing. Never have been and never will be. I know I pour everything I have into creating the best work I can and it’s for that reason that I won’t allow it to be treated like trash. I have over 250 drafts in my Google docs and best believe, that’s where they’ll stay until I see fit. Although I know it’ll probably mean leaving the last place I have any sense of community and social interaction in general, it’s not worth coming on here angry everyday in defense mode. Its not worth getting out of my character over and I rather just not be around if it means I have to play mean girl. My mind may change and all of this will just have been me getting shit off my chest but as of right now, this account will be archived come February 28th. Thank you to everybody who’s supported me this far and gave me a safe space. I love all of you so very much and hope that we can enjoy the rest of this month together 🫶🏾 🤍

[theautisticwriter]

Love Letters: Yandere! Helluva Boss characters X G/N Reader

Characters- Blitzø, Moxxie, Millie, Loona, Stolas, Asmodeus, Fizzarolli

Show- Helluva Boss

Genre- romantic, yandere

Summary- Mini love letters from your not so secret stalkers admirers!

Warnings- swearing, pet names, yandere themes, mentions of planned kidnapping, stalking, delusional characters, unwanted attention

Word count- 1.5K

Extra notes- I have a Hazbin Hotel version of this uploaded as well!

key: f/l = first letter of your name, y/n = your name, n/n = your nickname

———————————————————

By this point you know who it is y/n, I’m the only person COOL enough to send u romantic as fuck letters like the old people do

Sorry for eating the food u made last night, when i was raiding ur fridge it looked so fucking good (and it was, who knew u could cook :P). i left u a pony as a replacement, u can’t eat it but it’ll make u think of me ;) and that pony cost me a FUCK ton of money, collectors addition and shit. i know, bad fucking ass right??

the stupid shitty loud alarm u installed didn’t work when i came in, ud be much safer with me and loony. that’s the plan anyways babe, u have NO idea the fucking creeps that live down here, they’re all fucking animals and ur…not, a fucking asshole i guess.

i drew you smth (it’s the thing stuck on the back of the envelope with the glitter glu)

^glue

it’s me and u holding hands, like other couples do. we’re better than those corny fuckers tho, hence the crowns on our heads.

ignoring my texts, BLOCKING ME (still upset about this BY THE WAY) and then ignoring my very nice letters is kinda a dick move f/l, but it’s whatevs. everything is almost ready for ur move in. i cleaned up n everything :D

from the only bitch worth ur time,

blitzø

&lt;3 (ignore that, moxxie threw a gun at me and my hand slipped, might fire him)

———————————————————

Hiya sweet cheeks!!!

It’s Mills here, just checking in! Via letter! Ain’t that just the fanciest little thing? Mox said it’s the best way to show thought and care to someone, so here’s all my thoughts and care, just for you!

How’ve you been? Good I hope, I’ve been just peachy thanks for asking! My Ma and Pa are super excited to meet ya one day, they’ve even started planning the wedding! Now I told them to slow their horses down, and not the overwhelm ya, we’ll get to that don’t you worry darlin.

Im just so excited to write this letter for you! Ain’t it so romantic?? I’m practically squealing in delight at the thought of you opening this and swoonin’, that’s what you’re doing, right?

Now i’m writing this on my break, and my boss really needs me back in the game! I got employ of the month! Most amount of kills, with the best and bloodiest results baby!

Until next time sweetheart,

Your Mills! ♡

———————————————————

Hi y/n,

It’s Moxxie here, I was a little nervous to send this letter to you, but I always try to follow my heart, and my heart was telling me to communicate with you in the most romantic way I know how due to our current circumstances of being so far away. It’s hard, for the both of us i’m sure, but we’ll be okay y/n.

As much as I don’t get along with my father, he has been helpful with my preparations for your arrival. It’s a big deal, moving in together. I’m sure your anxious, I am too, but in the best way possible. Love is pure, and can make somebody feel whole, it’s a wonderful feeling. I never want that to be taken away from me, and you are the source of all my love. That’s why we need to be together, being only half a demon isn’t good for the soul.

We can do lots of fun things together as well, like go to the opera, or to musicals, or I can show you my shooting skills. My boss says that I have a pretty good shot, which is the biggest compliment he’s ever given me. And we can do things you like too, marriage is equal of course. Obviously, this will all happen later done the line, you’ll need time to adjust, and I understand that. I understand you.

I’m running out of room on my page, but I will write to you again tomorrow. Please respond? Just once, y/n? It’d be nice, to hold something from you since I can’t hold you yet.

All my love,

Your Moxxie <3

———————————————————

Uh, hi?

Wait, you don’t put ‘uh’ in letters do you? Or put wait whilst you think, fuck shit fuck

Sorry, I’m new to this. Normally I just send a text to people but, your phone is off at the moment I think? Or you lost it? Or you blocked me?

Either way, I’ll send you these stupid letter things until it’s back on. So, uh, what are you up to? Blitz has been up my ass about meeting you, heads up, when I come get you and bring you to our room he’s gonna go all psycho dad mode and integrate you, but he’ll back off after a while. He’s a dick sure, but he does want me to be happy. And your, likeable or whatever, so i’m sure you’ll get along.

Once you get comfortable at home with me, Blitz said you could work with me at I.M.P. You’ll be like the co-secretary or something. You won’t be put in danger, I won’t let that happen, you’ll just get to sit with me. We can watch things together, if you wanted.

I guess i’ll see you soon, how do you end these?

See you,

Love from,

Regards?

Bye y/n,

Loona.

———————————————————

My dearest y/n,

I hope this letter finds you well. I yearn for your presence here, besides me. It’s quite lonely without you, I will admit my dear. It would be oh so wonderful if you could write back. I understand you may be preoccupied with your current activities, but I can’t help myself from desiring a response. I know, it’s selfish of me to expect you to reply to my letters when you’ll be here with me shortly, but I can’t keep my thoughts at bay at the moment.

Your face is a constant in my mind, night and day, asleep and awake, your voice in my mind calms me when I need it most, your smile brightens the bleariest of moments and so on. You can imagine the difficulties I’m facing with no response from you, but that’s alright. If you can’t write back to me dear, I won’t pressure you. Your time is precious, and we will have all the time in hell quite soon. Isn’t that exciting?

I can give you the life you deserve n/n, any luxuries or mundanities you wish for will be handed to you on a silver platter. Or a golden one, if that’s more to your liking? We can properly discuss the specifics once we are together. How thrilling, the though of you and I together at last.

We truly are written in the stars!

Yours until the end of the sky and then some,

Stolas.

———————————————————

Hey there baby,

It’s been a while, huh? I’m sorry if you feel neglected babe, it’s so hard keeping in contact with you when you’re so far away hun. Wouldn’t it be so much better if you were here with me? Sure I’ve got a lot of meetings, being a sin and all, but I’d be at your beck and call n/n, you could even be my new excuse to leave those awful “business” discussions. They barely talk business with me, it’s just complete bullshit babe.

I know the lust ring can be intimidating, we have quite the reputation, but I assure you, love is not a foreign concept to me. Romance is one of my most favourite things! Though that’s a secret, let’s keep that between us, yeah? That side of me is reserved for you n/n.

It’s so boring over here without you, I feel like i’m just lounging around and last time I checked, I was the lust sin, not the sloth sin. We’d have so much fun together babe! Can’t you picture it? Even if you can’t yet, I can wait. Having you near me will be enough, you are enough just as you are.

Sincerely yours,

Asmodeus (Ozzie) xoxo

———————————————————

Heya cutie!

Letters are a lot harder to write than I thought they’d be y’know? I’ve rewritten this like 16 times already, sheesh. It just feels so awkward, I can’t see your reaction to my words which means I can’t fix any mistakes I’ve made :(. I’m sure I haven’t made any though! Right? This letters going really well so far and is definitely wooing you, right, y/n?

Hah, I’m asking questions as if you can reply right away. Silly old me, I don’t know what i’m worrying about! We’re meant to be together. I know it’s super sappy, but we’re like soulmates. Soulmates are bound to be together! That’s why I’m bringing you home soon, I can’t wait! I’ve got sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo many awesome tricks to show you!

And, the best news, I quit my job!! ༘⋆-ˋˏ ༘⋆-ˋˏ This means, we will have a LOT more time with each other, and you don’t have to worry about Mammon being possessive over me, because fuck him! I’m my own clown! Or, well, your clown.

I can’t wait to see you! This is going to be great for us, I pinky promise :P

Love from,

Fizzarolli !!!! ༘⋆!!,-!ˋˏ!!!

———————————————————

[itsbeeble]

BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT

THE TBZ FRAT HOUSE IS HOSTING THE BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT COLLAB BY @juyeonszn AND @itsbeeble!

YOU'RE INVITED!

PAIRINGS: tbz x f!reader

GENRES: smut, fluff, minimal angst, crack

WARNINGS: smut, minor angst, fluff, mentions of injuries, alcohol, swearing, more warnings to be added to the individual fics 18+ MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

SUMMARY: Have you ever wondered what your favorite frat boyz are up to in their personal lives? If so, then these fics are just for you! Join us as we take a glimpse into the Tau Beta Zeta fraternity and see what they get up to in their free time!

MORE: The way me and Fawn have been planning this for so long omgggg. Me and Fawn are so excited to announce this collab in celebration of my 1 year on tumblr, 6 year anniversary of The Boyz, AND as just a fun little event!! I hope you guys are as excited for this as I am hehe. And please feel free to send an ask or comment on this post if you'd like to be tagged in each part!!

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

FALL SEMESTER

TRY HARD — LEE JUYEON (12/6)

Need to get rid of some junk? Well these college hunks will haul YOUR junk! Give us a call at xxx-xxx-JUNK and we’ll haul YOUR junk for FREE! (limited time offer)

EXCITEMENT — JI CHANGMIN (12/6)

You know, when you told your girl friends that you’d never finished before, you were expecting it to blow over like no big deal. What you weren’t expecting was for it to spiral into a whole other mess.

SEEING STARS — KIM SUNWOO (12/10)

It’s slightly embarrassing how Sunwoo is naive enough to take Eric Sohn’s “advice” to heart. Luckily, you like idiots. Especially when they kick a ball into your face and agree to do a semester’s worth of schoolwork for you.

CLUMSY — JU HAKNYEON (12/10)

When Haknyeon ran into you at a TBZ party for the first time, he didn’t think he would fall for you so quickly. Or literally. Or both simultaneously. But there’s a first time for everything, he supposes.

"FRIENDLY" COMPETITION — LEE SANGYEON (12/14)

The TBZ frat had always had a rivalry with the KAT sorority. At least, they did when you and Sangyeon became the presidents three years ago. What happens when you mix a little friendly competition into this rivalry of yours?

JE NE SAIS QUOI — JACOB BAE (12/14)

Jacob thought the concept of fraternities was stupid. So stupid that despite every single one of his friends being in one, he still refused to join. However, after meeting you at one of the TBZ parties, he’s starting to think maybe they’re not that horrible.

SPRING SEMESTER

LET LOOSE — KIM YOUNGHOON (12/19)

Younghoon has hated you since the day he met you. He thought you were stuck up with that better-than-you princess attitude of yours. What better than to just…fuck it right out of you?

(NO) STRINGS ATTACHED — LEE HYUNJAE (12/19)

Becoming friends with Lee Hyunjae after his valiant attempt to save your life (stopping you from drunk driving) was certainly not on your year’s bingo card. Also not on your bingo card? Waking up in his bed every other night following, but it’s not like you’re really complaining.

NO BITCHES? — ERIC SOHN (12/22)

When you met Eric, you’d thought he was just another frat boy, looking to get into any woman’s pants (particularly yours at that moment). You never would’ve thought that he was just a loser who really liked FNAF and just thought you were pretty.

PARTY O'CLOCK — CHOI CHANHEE (12/22)

In spite of being a frat boy himself, Chanhee could never actually see himself enjoying the luxuries of the title. Besides, how could he with all the responsibilities of being treasurer? Enter you and your carefree spirit and Chanhee’s got a real big problem on his hands.

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER — KEVIN MOON (PT. 1 | PT. 2)

It wasn’t like you and Kevin hated each other. In fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. Well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

© juyeonszn & itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[sp0o0kylights]

 Part Five Part Two / Part Six YOU ARE HERE. / Part Seven

A03

"No come back here and hug me dammit!"

"I told you it'd be funny." Gareth stage whispered to Steve the following Monday, as Eddie proceeded to cause his usual amount of chaos in the lunchroom.

Tiff just shook her head.

"Come on, just do it and then tell everyone I'm better!" Eddie shrieked again, loud enough to be heard across the school. Possibly into the parking lot, given the winces and glares their peers tossed Eddie's way.

Jeff had his own head in his hands having been Eddie's prior cuddle victim and still suffering the consequences from it.

"I hate you." He groaned, and every single person knew he was talking to Gareth. "I cannot believe you told him his stupid hugs didn't even compare to Steve's. He almost broke my back this morning!"

Which wasn't an understatement--Gareth himself had dodged his best friend's aggressive hugs only by bolting to his first class, then acting like a ninja as he snuck about all day.

He'd even dropped to the floor and army-crawled at one point.

Now he stayed close to Steve, blatantly using the jock as a meat shield.

"Anyone have any ideas on how we can get him to chill out?" Stewart asked, from where he'd taken refuge under the lunch table.

Their second eldest member put up with many things, but drew the line at bodily injury by overly affectionate metalhead.

"Same as always." Jeff grumbled, making sure Gareth saw his glare. "We wait him out."

"Tiff!" Eddie whined, whirling around, hands reaching out for her.

"You touch me Munson and I'll burn the trigonometry notes I promised you." Tiffany threatened without looking up from her book.

"Fine." Eddie wheeled right back around. "Graaaaant-!"

"This could take days!" Stewart complained, acting like a man caged. "I can't wait much longer!"

'Dramatic, the whole lot of them.' Gareth thought fondly, knowing he was just as bad.

"Okay. Seriously, how are we fixing this?" Jeff said sourly, as Grant once again picked Eddie up by his jacket and bodily threw him as far away as he could.

Like an eldritch being from a B horror movie, Eddie simply bounced back up and came for him again.

"His issue is that he thinks I'm the better cuddler, right? Nothing else?" Steve said thoughtfully.

"Yes." Groaned the other four in unison, as Grant laid a hand on Eddie's forehead, the latter pinwheeling his arms like a cartoon character.

Steve nodded once, before his face morphed into something devastatingly smug. "Yeah we're screwed."

Jeff switched targets from Gareth to glare at Steve instead. "Really Harrington?"

"I'm back to Harrington now? Jeff, man, you wound me." Steve faked a gasp, putting a hand over his heart.

It made Gareth grin, if only because Steve wouldn't have done that a month ago. "God I love when you're a bitch."

Steve looked over at him and winked.

"Just for that, we should make you cuddle with him." Stewart grumbled. "Tell him he can decide for himself who's better!"

Which of course killed the playful look on Steve's face.

Two pairs of shoes proceeded to kick at Stewart (who dodged Jeff's only to be nailed by Tiffany's far more tactical aim.)

Except when Gareth though about it, it actually wasn't a half-bad idea.

If one pitched it right.

"You know," Gareth said slowly, a plan forming. It was half-baked, but it'd work. "--you could end this pretty easily if you did. You  have the power."

"Are we being serious right now?" Jeff grumped. "This does not feel like we're being serious."

Gareth ignore him.

"You up for one last cuddle, Sir Carrington?"  He asked, playfully.

He got a flat look in return. "You've got to be kidding me. You're seriously suggesting the solution here is for me and Eddie to cuddle."

"I am indeed." Gareth said with a grin. "So long as it's an absolutely terrible cuddle."

That got an interesting reaction.

"Good luck, I'm an amazing cuddler." Steve huffed, offended--and it looked like he actually believed it.

A curiosity, considering even with everyone announcing themselves before touching him he still got jumpy.

"Then pretend." Gareth wheedled. "You don't even have to do it for that long. Sneeze in his ear and he'll be done for."

He got a few grossed out looks for that, but it was worth it all to see Steve growing more comfortable with the idea.

"If I were to do anything of the sort I wouldn't sneeze in his ear." The jock retorted, but he looked contemplative.

"I'm sure you could come up with something else. " Gareth suggested, and gave his best, award winning smile as he said it. "You're creative when cornered."

No ulterior motives here, no sir!

"I know what you're doing, Gareth." Steve said, calling him out immediately. "But I might be convinced to take a hit for the team--for a price. My reputation would be on the line."

"What do you want?" Stewart asked immediately, more than a little desperate as Eddie carried on in the background.

"Well..." Steve trailed off, slowly meeting each and every one of them in the eye. "what are you offering?"

"You know what?" Jeff said, putting his head back in his hands. " Just for that, you and Gareth both are on my shit list."

"I'll bake you those marble brownies you wanted and get right back off it." Steve said, the smug air only growing as Jeff sighed loudly.

"Name your price, Harrington." Stewart said, talking over Jeff's second, overly dramatic sigh. "You want some D&D treasure, or an item for your character? You got it. You want a fucking," He paused, eyes scrunching up in thought. "--new basketball? Or whatever sport ball you're into right now?"

"Not even close." Steve told him.

Jeff sighed a third time, loud and obnoxious.

"Why does this always fall down to me?" Tiff asked the ceiling, as though God himself might respond back with the answer. She tilted her head back down, aiming to make eye contact with Steve. "You're in Rucker's class right? I'll write your poly-sci paper. Highest grade I will guarantee is a B, and that is because it would be suspicious if you looked like you suddenly had strong, A-grade opinions on current, geopolitical policies."

Steve snapped and pointed towards her. "Sold!" He called, mimicking an auctioneer.

Smooth as butter, he turned towards Hurricane Eddie. "Hey Munson!"

In two seconds the jock had summoned that cocky persona of his, wearing a smarmy smile like a cloak. It was getting easier and easier to tell which "bitchy Steve" was the real one and which one was a total front.

(Tiffany had decided the man was a mean girl at his core and honestly, the label stuck.

But Mean Girl Steve was a hell of a lot different than King Steve--or any of the other overly confident swaggering personas Steve adopted like a second skin.)

For for all the preparation he'd had, was still rigid most of the time Gareth had occupied his lap, only relaxing when the younger boy had gotten Eddie so wound up their eldest friend couldn't form coherent sentences.

Now, as Steve strode over and issued the challenge of a cuddle off during the next Hellfire game, he was already less stiff.

Eddie had that effect on people. Particularly ones who had crushes on him.

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever been involved in." Tiffany complained.

"Is it Tiff? Is it really?" Jeff challenged as he finally sat up.

"She's definitely forgetting the purple griffin incident." Grant said, completely ignoring what was going down on the other end of the table as he took advantage of Eddie being distracted to make his escape.

"Fine." Tiff conceded before anyone could list anything else off, "But it's at least in the top five."

"This Friday, Harrington." Eddie announced loudly then, fire in his eyes and a finger in Steve's face. "Me and you. It is on."

"Hope you're ready to lose." Steve taunted.

It was hilarious as it was ridiculous.

Which meant of course, that dumb shit had to get in the way of it.

xXx

Steve backslid the next morning.

Worse, he kept backsliding, growing worse throughout the week until the person left looked a whole lot like the guy they’d dragged to their table all those months ago.

He sat silently next to Eddie during lunch, only speaking if asked a direct question, all banter and playful bitchiness gone.

He avoided Hellfire’s members in the hallway, Stewart reporting he had been uncharacteristically silent during their one shared class.

Most damning?

He’d flinched when Eddie had done their dumb little “shoulder bumping” routine.

Which officially meant that ghost Steve was back.

(“I didn’t realize how Steve was our little ray of sunshine and positivity until he stopped being it.” Tiff complained, idly spinning a pencil in the library. “Worse, I didn’t think I’d miss it.”

Gareth, who definitely wasn’t skipping again, agreed wholeheartedly.)

Not even Eddie's antics got a smile out of Steve. He really tried too, to the point where Gareth was starting to worry his best friend was going to do something dramatic just to get a little chuckle.

Steve at least, picked up on the fact he was freaking out all of Hellfire when Grant started to get blunt with his questions.

A part of Gareth (the part that appreciated Grant’s bluntness, instead of the rest of him, that wanted to duck and cover in case it made things worse) was curious if this would finally get Steve to open up; but instead it just made things worse.

Within two direct “No really dude, what's wrong?” ’s, Steve retired the haunted act and instead brought the downright freaky return of one Hawkins' jock's doing a real good job at pretending he was okay.

Pity for him this wasn't Tommy H or the rest of the public Steve was trying to fool.

This was a group of people who tended to be hyper aware of things, ranging from their surroundings to their people. (And then went on to play, as Steve regularly teased them, “one giant math game about it.”)

Not a single one of them was fooled by the act, or the evasive answers Steve pulled out of his ass when the rest of them all, individually, in their own way, tried to figure out if their newest member was okay or just having a few bad days.

"He told me he wasn't feeling good." Jeff said, worrying his lip with his teeth when they all finally convened together after school to discuss it.

"Are we choosing to buy that?" Tiffany asked, one eyebrow raised in a challenge. "He's been off since Tuesday. It's Thursday."

Grant huffed an agreement, arms crossed over his chest.

"Devils advocate, people are typically sick for more than one day." Stewart pointed out. "Dudes probably got allergies or something, it is the end of May."

"It's not allergies." Gareth said flatly.

Allergies usually came with symptoms like coughing and sneezing.

They did not come with vacant stares and falling over one's feet when their friends said hello in the hallway.

"Well clearly he doesn't want to talk about it so maybe he'll just…work himself out of whatever it is." Jeff reasoned. "I don't know if we should really push him about it."

"And miss out on another week's worth of baking?" Stewart bemoaned, as if Steve's lack of treats was the sole reason they were concerned.

Tiff swiped at him with her paperback.

Interestingly, Eddie had yet to say much on the matter. Everyone knew he was just as worried. The guy was a secret teddy bear, and they all still knew to warn him if a dog so much as got hurt in a movie. Worse, Steve was one of his "sheepies" as he so lovingly called them all, and was notoriously defensive of Hellfire as a whole.

Gareth had been eyeing him throughout their little gathering, watching as his best friend tapped his foot anxiously.

The guy seemed lost in his own head and while it wasn't completely unusual, it too, was odd behavior.

Gareth squinted at him, making eye contact and asking if he was alright with the kind of subtle facial expressions only best friends could pull.

Eddie didn't respond, but instead, looked away.

'That's a no.' Gareth thought, as the conversation around them wound down, without anyone coming up with any solid plans on what they were going to do about the Steve situation.

This is exactly how he ended up following Eddie home.

"Inviting ourselves over I see." The elder teen muttered out of the corner of his mouth as Gareth chased him to his van, hopping into the passenger seat instead of heading for his bicycle.

"It's a good night for a smoke sess." Gareth responded casually.

"You hate smoking weed." Eddie returned with a snort. "You prefer edibles."

"Just think of what we could do with Harrington's baking skills." Gareth replied wistfully--but made sure to watch his friend.

There it was. The slightest of weird expressions, flitting over Eddie's face like a shadow before he hid it back into whatever cage it escaped from.

"You're worried." Gareth guessed. Not like that was a hard one.

"Aren't we all, Gare-Bear?" Eddie returned, eyes never leaving the road.

He pretended like he couldn't feel Gareth scanning him, taking in the too tense shoulders and the shuttered, guarded look on his face.

"You know something." Gareth guessed after a moment.

The declaration made his best friend flinch, hands squeezing tight on the wheel.

'Got you.'

"Are you going to spill or do I have to blackmail it out of you?"

"Please Gary you have nothing you could blackmail me with." Eddie challenged with a snort. "I am shameless."

A challenge that could not be ignored, if only because Gareth wanted to remind him who had had the upper hand since Steve had crashed into Hellfire.

"Really? So you wouldn't mind if I show Steve those photos of the time we dressed up as a Barbie “ken doll” band for Jeff’s sister’s birthday? You know, the one were you were wearing that pink boa and the star glasses--”

A hand shot out, clapping Gareth over the mouth.

"Thank you, I got it!" Eddie said, voice an octave higher than normal. "Why do you still even have that!?"

"My mom." Gareth managed to get out, even if it was horribly muffled between Eddie's bony fingers.

"Curse that woman's thirst for nostalgia and scrapbooks." Eddie hissed, as if his mom was some grand villain.

"You love her crafts, you ass." Gareth rolled his eyes, wiping his mouth when Eddie finally removed his hand. "Now spill."

"I'm not sure this is what's causing it." The elder cautioned after a pause just long enough to be dramatic. "But rumor has it his parents are home."

"You think they're why he's acting all…" Gareth trailed off, unsure of what to compare Steve to and not wanting to say a kicked dog.

Eddie hummed in agreement. "Every time I walk into Steve's house, the place starts off feeling like a living tomb. There’s got to be a reason for that, and the only one I can think of is that his parents want that. The tomby-ness."

Gareth leaned back in his seat, contemplating. Turned the idea of Steve's mysterious parents over in his head, comparing it to how the guy's house did have a sort of museum quietness to it.

It wasn't that the place was huge, or even that Steve was typically its solo occupant beyond the occasional weekends one or both of his parents "popped in."

It was the perfectness of it.

How on any given day a photographer could show up to take pictures and the place would be camera ready.

A sort of--trophy house.

He went on to tell his best friend this.

"It’s like a shrine to their success." Eddie added an hour later, when they'd resettled onto his couch, trying to break down just what exactly about Steve's house made it so weird.

They'd shared a beer each--some gross kind that a cat couldn't have gotten buzzed off of, and Gareth had just finished helping Eddie select their chosen flower to roll when an awkward sound erupted throughout the trailer.

If Gareth knew any better, he'd say it almost sounded like someone was knocking on the shitty aluminum door.

Couldn't be though, because he'd never in his life heard someone knock--Eddie's uncle Wayne had a key, and every member of Hellfire was aware that the window in Eddie's room had a broken lock.

To get it open you just had to push at it from a specific angle, and with a few tugs it'd come right up for you.

The noise came again, this time a little louder.

Gareth looked to Eddie, and found his friend holding all the weed.

Understanding flashed between them, and Gareth stood up to answer the door as Eddie magically made the drugs disappear.

Thankfully, it wasn't the cops.

"Hey." Steve said, standing awkwardly on Eddie's porch, looking like he desperately wanted inside but wasn't sure he'd be allowed in. "Eddie said I could just come over if I needed to…?"

He trailed off, awkwardly miming smoking with his fingers.

Gareth couldn't hold in the snort.

"You're in luck man, because I just finished rolling a few." He said, stepping back to let their wayward jock in.

"Hey Stevie." Eddie drawled, now in the process of making the weed reappear. "Come in, have a seat, take a puff."

Rather than sit on the admittedly small couch, Steve chose instead to drop his ass to the floor, leaving the open spot above him to Gareth. He waited until the younger was seated before he leaned back, broad shoulders brushing both his friends legs as he relaxed.

Eddie’s hand twitched, as though he wanted to run it through Steve’s hair and thought better of it.

(Knowing him as Gareth did, that was very likely exactly what the weird little movement of his was.)

“You wanna tell us what’s goin’ on?” Eddie said softly, long after all three of them had an inhale of the joint Eddie had lit, sitting in relaxed silence. "Cause you've been pretty down, Stevie."

"Yeah." Steve agreed hollowly. "Sorry."

Eddie nudged his leg with a foot, then offered him the blunt again. "Don't apologize man, we can't all be sunshine and rainbows."

“You’d be surprised at how many people expect an apology for just that.” Steve muttered.

Gareth traded careful looks over Steve’s head, Eddie turning back and resolutely plowing on.

“You don’t have to, but talking tends to make people feel better.”

“Does it?” Steve asked, before taking a slow, measured inhale of the joint.

Idly he added; "Gareth you can't roll for shit."

"Fuck you dude!" The younger teen exclaimed, instantly offended, but knew a redirect when he saw one. "You try rolling them then!" He snatched the joint out of Steve's hands, huffing audibly.

It was an offer. If Steve didn't want to take the opening Eddie had given him, he could instead take the out Gareth had given.

The option reminded him of Alice in Wonderland (Gareth’s actual favorite movie, even if he tells everyone else it's The Empire Strikes Back)

Specifically when Alice was lost, standing before a split path and asking advice from the Cheshire Cat.

Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?" Alice asks.

The Cheshire Cat spins its head, smiling its smile as it answers;“ That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."

Steve proved himself to be a stronger man that Gareth had given him credit for, and took the harder path.

"My parents are home." He said, eyes glued to the TV in front of him, as if that would make the conversation easier.

Perhaps it did.

Eddie to his credit, didn't treat the declaration as anything important. "Yeah? They bring you something nice back from New York?"

"Florida this time and no."

Steve fussed with a thread on his sweater for a moment, a single yellow thread unspooling from the end. It looked like he’d been tugging at it a lot, a small imperfection on an otherwise expensive looking piece of clothing.

"Apparently I've been such a disappointment they're demanding I get a job." He began again. "They want me to learn the realities of hard work."

Gareth traded puzzled glances with Eddie.

Steve had never shied from hard work.

Everyone had heard the story of how he’d won over every coach in Hawkins' High’s favor. It was practically school legend, since he was the first freshmen to take up and finish some bullshit exercise challenge they hosted every year.

The guy even had a herd of some of the most obnoxious children he looked after, without pay.

There was no way the source of whatever was eating at him was a summer job.

Or perhaps, not just a summer job.

"Summer jobs fucking suck, but I hear that new mall’s finally finished.” Gareth said hesitantly. “You could probably get in somewhere there before you head off to college.”

"I'm not going to college. Didn't get into any." Steve said flatly.

Ah-ha.

"I only applied to the one Nancy made me." He added, still refusing to look at either of them. "Couldn't bring myself to apply to any of the others."

Which--odd, but it wasn't the oddest thing ever. Some people just didn't like school, or traditional learning methods.

No matter how much Gareth's counselor insisted otherwise.

"My dad found that out too." Steve said after a moment.

"College isn't the fucking answer to life." Gareth continued. "There's plenty of other things you can do."

Eddie’s head cocked, like a dog who’d been presented with a puzzle.

Steve shrugged. "That's not my issue with it, but the old man thinks it is. He keeps insisting that the free rides are over now." His voice kicked into a deep mockery of his fathers at the end, the condescending tone coming through loud and clear. “Thinks I'm here to screw my girlfriend and party my life away. Wouldn't hear me about not wanting to go to college, at all. Definitely didn't care that I broke up with Nancy." The last part was muttered, almost said more to himself and for himself than it was for them.

Eddie’s head tilted the other way.

"Did you have an idea of what you wanted to do?" Gareth asked. He figured it they knew, they might be at least able to help.

He got a shrug in response.

Gareth was about to open his mouth--probably to put his foot in it, but hell if Steve wanted help brainstorming what he did want to do with his life, or at least get positive support from someone who wasn't a rich asshole, it might as well start here.

Eddie beat him to the punch though, because as usual, Eddie was able to track the weird unspoken thing that no one else could pick up on.

"It's the kids, isn't it?" Eddie asked softly. Reverently. "You don't want to leave Hawkins, because of the kids."

Steve took another sip of beer, waving off the joint Gareth offered him. For someone who'd come to smoke he'd barely touched it or the beer, but then no one here would push.

It was pretty obvious, (to Gareth anyway) that the weed had been a flimsy excuse to begin with.

"When those damn kids started trying to trap the--dogs." Steve started, correcting his slip so smoothly Gareth almost didn't pick up that he'd intended to say something else. “I was the only damn adult they could find.”

Steve gave up fiddling with his sweater to tug angrily at his beer tab, twisting and pulling at it.

"They had figured out where the dogs would be. Had an entire meat bucket they wanted to use as bait and but I was the only damn person to try and at least wrangle the little shits. You wanna know how they found me?" He picked up steam now, and Eddie couldn't even be satisfied that he'd managed to hit the nail on the head because clearly whatever was happening here was the actual thing Steve needed to get off his chest.

"Football practice?" Gareth asked mostly to fill in the tension-filled pause, and then ducked from the swat Eddie aimed his way.

Steve blew out a harsh, mocking breath.

"Dustin found me on the way to Nancy's house, where I was planning on apologizing. Had flowers and everything."

Oh.

Steve's tone said a hell of a lot more than that, the raw emotion making Gareth's own stomach roll.

A careful glance showed an equally punched-out expression on Eddie's face, the metalhead having physically reared back like Steve's words had struck him.

"What were you apologizing for?" He asked, recovering faster than Gareth could.

"Honestly man? I don't know." Steve laughed then, a harsh little disbelieving noise. "I just knew Nancy had said--well she said some shit while drunk, and wasn't able to say some shit sober, and I realized after that maybe I--I rushed her or something you know?"

He ran a hand through his hair, a self soothing behavior. "Or that I did, fuck I don't know. She's Nancy Wheeler, she's smarter than me by a longshot, so if she was mad, than I figured I must be at fault." Steve shrugged, like that was a fact of life.

Eddie interrupted immediately. "She's not smarter than you."

"I--what?"

"Nancy isn't smarter than you.' Eddie repeated firmly. "She's booksmart, Stevie. School smart. Nancy Wheeler absolutely owns tests and papers and things you need to study for, and she’s a hell of a researcher--but she's not people smart."

"What?" Steve repeated incredulously and there Gareth caught a flash of bitchy Steve.

The real one, who'd been shoved aside by the apathetic version.

"Have you ever seen that girl get fixated on something? She's tenacious, gets her teeth in and won't let go.” Eddie snapped his teeth, shaking his head while growling like a dog.

Gareth rolled his eyes, but a ghost of a smile graced Steve’s face.

“But she hasn't figured out how that hurts people yet. She's caught up in getting the results. She's not intentionally unkind, she's just--a little out of touch." Eddie flopped back against the couch, making a grabby gesture for the joint Gareth now held. “People like you--”

Here, he poked Steve in the chest, before reaching past him to wave his hand obnoxiously in Gareth’s face for the joint (and get smacked at for the effort) “are people smart.”

"That's not--no." Steve protested head jerking from Eddie's fingers to Eddie's face, but it was weak, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes.” Eddie mocked, but it was in jest, proven by the easy, soft smile he gave Steve. “You said it yourself. The kids go to you, man. They go to you even now, when Nancy or Jonathan could be driving them all over town. You get people; how they work, how they tick, what makes them happy or sad, and people are drawn to you because of that.”

“Jonathan drives.” Steve muttered in disagreement.

“And yet we all witnessed the clown car act when all those kids came out of your backseat two weekends ago.” Eddie refuted. “You’re just as smart as Nancy is, Steve. Just in a different way.”

Steve frowned.

“My parents don’t see it like that.”

“Your parents can get fucked, Sweetheart.”

That was pushing it, but Steve didn't comment on the nickname. Never commented on any nicknames Eddie came up with, beyond the occasional eye roll.

Which is right about when the phone rang.

They all glanced towards it, then down at their respective watches.

It was well past midnight.

"Think that's Wayne?" Gareth asked, eyebrows raising as Eddie stood to answer the phone.

His friend just shrugged, before picking up.

"Munson Mortuary, you stab em we slab em." He chirped as he pressed the phone to his ear.

"Tiffy-Taffy isn't it kinda late for--whoa." Eddies easy smile flipped, back going ramrod straight. "Slow down, what happened?" And oh, shit, that was Eddie's "somethings wrong and I'm going to fix it" voice.

Gareth sat up, making sure the joint Eddie had put down was out as he stared worriedly at Eddie.

"Okay. Gareth and Steve are with me, we're all coming." Eddie finished, prompting Steve to also sit up. "Stay there and for the love of God, tell Stewart not to touch anything else."

"What happened." Steve and Gareth demanded as one.

It'd be funny if the look on Eddie's face wasn't so serious.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to break my promise about not going to the lab, Steve." He said, a hand going to tug anxiously at his hair.

"What?" Steve said, immediately on the defensive.

Then; "Why?"

"Because all our darling friends went to the Hawkin's lab without us. Apparently they ran into some kids on the way and now Stewart's stuck in a hole."

“All of them?” Gareth questioned, because sure, yeah he could see Stewart doing it. Could see Grant and even Jeff really, but Tiffany? Out exploring an abandoned lab that had killed people?

On a school night?

"She's gonna give us the full story when we get there, she called from the nearest payphone. Had some kid who kept interrupting her so she just gave me the basics, but apparently Stewart is really stuck, and for some reason the damn kids won't let anyone try to get him from some other door. They keep saying it's not safe or some shit." Eddie's anxious tugging grew as he moved to snatch up his wallet and keys, walking and talking as it were.

Gareth had expected a reaction out of Steve then, but  what he hadn't expected was Steve to surge to his feet in a near panic.

"Kids!?" He shouted, eyes wide and frantic.

Eddie flinched, but Gareth knew immediately what the jock was thinking.

"You don't think they're your feral pack of kids--do you?" He asked.

"It's always them so yes, yes I do." Steve snarled and for the first time that week, the guy looked alive.

Gareth just wished it was under better circumstances.

[hawkins-losers]

You’re my best view (part 2) | Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You fulfill your promise and take polaroids for your boyfriend

Word count: 1.6k

Warning: nudity? 

A/N: This ended up being so much longer than planned and I’m not even sorry. It’s also the type of girlfriend I am, but that’s bc I’m an artsy bitch 

Part one

-

It’s been three weeks since you mentioned it and it’s been three weeks of Eddie asking you when you’d do that damn polaroid you promised him.

The day had finally come.

On Thursdays, Eddie's uncle had an earlier shift at the factory, meaning the trailer was empty at an earlier time. You took advantage of that knowledge and planned accordingly.

That meant convincing Eddie to move his Hellfire club meeting.

''Why did you ask me to cancel my 'Satanic worshiping' tonight?'' he asked as you got out of the van and headed inside the trailer, quoting a news magazine about Dungeon & Dragons.

''I did not ask you to cancel it, I asked you to move it to tomorrow. That's different,'' you corrected, sliding your backpack off your shoulder and down on the table.

‘’Same thing,’’ he waved off, closing the door behind you. ‘’So, are you finally going to tell me why? You were being very secretive and promised me I would not be regretting it. It better not be a catch to get me to help you study for Biology class or something because, unless it’s body anatomy, I’m not going to be a great help.’’

You chuckled at the ground. ‘’That’s not it.’’

‘’Thank you, Jesus.’’

‘’Check in my bag, I got a surprise for you.’’

Eddie cocked an eyebrow, curious.

A surprise could mean a lot of things. It could be a movie you rented and a bag of popcorn, sexy lingerie - although that would already be on you and not in the bag -, a tupperware of cookies you had baked, the latest record of one of his favorite bands, or, in tonight's case your polaroid camera.

You watched as he unzipped your backpack, trying to hold back a smile, impatient to see his reaction. His doe eyes rounded up like saucers at the sight of the polaroid camera, and his lips twisted into a Cheshire cat smile, immediately putting two and two together.

A film camera would’ve been more practical to use, but you didn’t trust anyone to develop them. It’s too easy to print one more and keep it in your pocket for personal use. The idea of a stranger having a sexy picture of you on their nightstand and wanking every night to it made you sick to your stomach and very uncomfortable.

Eddie flickered his eyes to you, seeing a bounce in his bones, unable to contain his excitement. ‘’Where is it? Is it in there?’’ He motioned to your backpack.

You shook your head. ‘’No. I need someone to take them for me.’’

‘’Them? As in…more than one?’’

You nodded slowly. There were five polaroids left to take in this camera.

You took a few steps toward the tall young man, tying your arms behind his neck as you made eye contact with him. ‘’Eddie Munson, will you do me the honor of being my personal photographer tonight?’’

As if possible, his smile widened even more. He grabbed your face and kissed you. ‘’Fuck yes.’’

Although the creative concept was quite simple, the ‘make it happen’ part was not.

While Eddie tidied the bed and cleaned a little - an empty bag of chips and a condom wrapper were not good background decor accessories -, you stood before his closet and picked out the shirt you’ll be wearing for the pictures. It was messy and some shirts were very creased from having fallen off their hanger and down the bottom. You were tempted by this Black Sabbath one, but, out of the corner of your eye, you recognized the shirt he gave you the first night you slept over.

It was the one.

‘’Found something to your liking, sweetheart? There’s some a few the dryer too.’’

You said nothing.

In silence, you removed your sweater and jeans and slipped the black and white raglan shirt over your head. It reached about your mid thigh and it smelled woody and spicy, topped with a tinge of weed.

‘’How do I look?’’

Eddie turned around, his jaw almost dropping at the sight. He looked at you with admiration in his eyes and swiped his tongue over his plump lips, feeling his body react instantly. ‘’Are you trying to kill me? You know I can’t control myself when you wear that? It’s my weakness. I swear you woke up today and thought ‘ah today is a beautiful day to kill my boyfriend’.’’

You threw your head back laughing at his antics. His sarcasm and sense of humor were one of the things that seduced you first.

You sat on the bed and Eddie had to fight the envy to pull you on his lap and make out.

Instead he asked, ‘’What’s the plan? I’m no photographer, so you gotta guide me here.’’

‘’I’m gonna do pretty much all of the work. All you gotta do is check in the viewfinder, make sure I’m in frame, and push the button to take the picture.’’

He rolled his eyes. ‘’I know how to use a polaroid camera. I meant, how do I get the right shot? We only got five and I don’t want to mess up.’’

It was cute that he cared this much about the project. That he wanted all the pictures to look beautiful and sexy and not just…dirty - something to jerk off to. If he wanted pictures of that genre, he could just open one of his Playboy magazines under his bed.

The first picture was simple. Just you, sitting on the bed with Eddie's precious red electric guitar. Eddie's Hellfire club shirt was relaxed on your body and exposing most of your thighs as you sat cross-legged. Your hands and fingers were positioned as taught, making it seem like you were playing for real.

For the second one, you laid on your back against the pillows, still holding the guitar. The angle was changed, now exposing your underwear - and the hickey on your right inner thigh - to the camera while Eddie sat on the end of the bed, watching with hungry eyes. He felt his dick stiffening at the sight before him, causing his jeans to become tight and uncomfortable.

He reached for his belt to release some of the pressure down there, but you stopped him.

‘’Nuh-uh.’’ You shook your head. ‘’You take nothing off.’’

‘’Wha- That’s unfair! That was not part of the plan,’’ he began to protest. ‘’How can I sit there and watch you undress and do these sexy pictures if I don’t get to - at least - take my pants off? You know how you make my dick feel. One small peak of your tits and my pants are about to burst.’’

With a mischievous smile on your lips, you grabbed the bottom of your shirt and lifted it to flash him.

Eddie groaned painfully. ‘’You little devil.’’ The corner of his lips twitched and he grabbed your ankles. ‘’Get over here,’’ he said, pulling you down and closer to him, making you squeal and giggle.

Your shirt had ridden up due to the movement, exposing your under-boobs.

You didn’t bother fixing it.

Hesitantly, Eddie grabbed the camera. He searched your eyes for consent and pushed the button after getting a nod. This one was a little more on the dirty side, but a little glimpse was nothing too scandalous, right?

You heard the soft click and the polaroid was released. Eddie put it on the table to develop and sent the camera down again. He leaned over you, connecting your lips and slipping his tongue in. Your hands went to his hair, feeling his soft curls and pulling a little as the kiss deepened, while his snaked up your body and to your chest, the coldness of his silver rings making goosebumps raise on your skin. One of his thumbs brushed over the bud of your nipple, making you gasp softly into the kiss and arch your back.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling yourself closer and grinding down. His jeans were rough against your soft skin, but you did it again.

Eddie moaned at the feeling, breaking the kiss. ‘’If you do that again, we’ll never finish this shooting,'' he warned against your lips.

A part of you wanted to say 'fuck the shooting', your body craving his in all the possible ways, but another part wanted to continue playing model.

You captured his bottom lip between your teeth and pulled, teasing a little more before breaking away and taking the shirt off completely, leaving you topless.

Between your collarbones, there was a dainty silver chain with a small pendant of your lover's initial, matching Eddie's. Unlike your school's basketball players who lended their jersey or team jackets to their girlfriend to mark them as theirs, this jewelry represented that you were the only one who really knew the other.

He was about to kiss you again, thinking the shooting was over, but you grabbed the camera. ''Let's do the last two.''

‘’Are you sure?’’ Eddie asked with a puzzled look on his face, his eyes shifting from the camera to yours.

Although you had said no nudes - which Eddie was totally fine with and respected -, you wanted to take a topless picture. You felt confident enough and safe enough to take one. You trusted the hands in who it would be in.

‘’Yes.’’

Later into the night, after a shower and fixing something to eat, you took a look at the now developed pictures and smiled pleasantly at the result. They could’ve been better. The lighting was weird on two of them and you could see perfectly the handcuffs by Eddie’s bed - which you once used in bed -, but you made them together and that’s what made them special.

You took the one where you were clothed the most and handed it to Eddie, who was confused. ‘’That one you can keep in your van. You know, in case you need to show off your hot girlfriend.’’

He shook his head and grabbed the rest from your hands. ‘’Hell the fuck no. No one's going to see any of these. All mine.’’

-

Taglist:  @broadway-or-noway​ @violetsleftfist​ @thelaststraw3​  @cursedandromedablack​  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1​  @wh0reforbucknasty  @eddiemunson-slut  @slvdsjjk​  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @grace-loux

Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie​ @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend

[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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[heejayy]

I’m not over you

Warning • swearing, hair pulling, spanking, cunnilingus, face riding, praising, degradation, squirting, pet names

Genre • 18+ if I catch minors interacting with this ur blocked! straight up smut!, fluff at the end

Pairing • player! Shuri x Black Reader

Wc: 3.9k

A/n: this was not proofread I’ll edit it in the morning 😭✋🏾

You were sick and tired of sitting at home playing wifey you were just fed up with Shuri’s games. All she ever did was lie and cheat. So to switch it up you called up a few girlfriends and planned a night out; for the first time in a long time, you were going to have a good time.

"Girl, Shuri is going to have a fuckin' fit if she catches you in that," you shrugged, adjusting your dress. "I could give a less shit, tonight I don't want to hear her name at all," your friends exchanged glances before nodding slowly.

“Fine fine we won’t mention her” You smiled satisfied with yourself and your looks.

“Ight let’s go!”

You were having a great time singing, dancing, and drinking. You're not even a drinker yet you were downing shots like water while shouting lyrics to every song that played.

"May I join you?" an unknown person yelled in your ear as she placed her hand on your hips, You turned around to make sure she was worth your time; she was taller than you, lean, and had a nice smile. Exactly your type. You nodded giving her permission, and she encircled you as you danced against her to the beat. You danced with her for three songs but couldn't get rid of the feeling that you were being watched.

Your dancing became more provocative as Nobody Has to Know by Kranium started blasting through the speakers.

"This is my shit!" You grinned as you wrapped her hands tighter around you, feeling the music vibrate through you, lights flashing around as hot sweaty bodies danced on each other. Everyone was having a good time, not worrying about the hangover they’ll have tomorrow.

However, your moment was short-lived, as your friends yanked you away from the attractive stranger.

"What the hell, I was having a good time!"

"Not for much longer, bitch, look who's here." Eve swung you around, pointing to the devil herself. Shuri was in her VIP section, scowling staring down at you. She was surrounded by women, but the only one she was looking at was you, which reminds you of the first time you two met.

"Damn, damn, damn! What am I supposed to do now?" They all looked at you with an 'I told you so' expression as they waited for an answer.

"Don't look at me that way."

“Nah this shit yo’ fault” Carmen commented, “you claimed you were a grown ass woman who could do whatever she want now you stuck” You rolled your eyes at her crossing your arms.

“Shit, well let’s just sneak out while we can it’s dark in here I’m sure I can say she was seeing stuff” You grab your handbag ready to make a run.

“Too late she walking over here now…well good luck” she patted your butt making her way over to the bar and the rest of them followed suit. You watched Shuri make her way through the crowded club with the look that would make one’s enemies kneel before them.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asked with her grills glistening at the bottom of her mouth, you fixed your posture trying not to seem intimidated.

You cocked an eyebrow eyeing her up and down “I could ask you the same thing.” She scoffed giving a sarcastic laugh looking away for a second then back at you, she leaned down to your ear a whispered “You better be outside in five, and if I have to come back in here for you this whole place is getting shut down” before walking off. You sucked your teeth following her, who does she think she’s talking to?

“What is it?” You asked aggravated pushing the club door open.

“So this is what you do now? You get mad at me and come to the club to dance with strangers?” You let out a sarcastic laugh “That’s rich coming from you ya know? That’s like your whole routine. We argue, you get mad and come to the club, dance with a dozen women maybe even make out with one and then you come home back to me like nothing ever happened. I’m tired of that shit, you don’t wanna be mines just say that” She stares down at you clenching her jaw in anger, she couldn’t rebuttal because she knew all of it was true.

Before you met Shuri she was out there in many ways, she went from this sweet young girl to a player who breaks hearts for sport. People warned you about her but you thought you could handle her, apparently not.

“Usana I’ve told you many times you are the only one who has my heart, where do I go when I come home? Straight to you, you know I love you” You rolled your eyes.

“Bullshit! I’m sick of hearing that same speech ‘Oh you’re my baby, I love you’ blah blah blah. I’m tired of sharing I want something real and if you’re not ready to give that to me then we’re done.”

Over the year you and Shuri have been together you two broke up on multiple occasions, but for some reason, this felt real to her.

“You’ll be back” she called after you as you disappeared back into the club. You told your friends you weren’t in the mood for clubbing anymore and you went home. They thought you were going home with Shuri to have makeup sex again, but not this time you truly were going home alone.

It’s been about three weeks since your fight with Shuri and you had to admit you were feeling a little lonely. Your friends say they’re proud of you for dumping her but you didn’t feel proud. You wanted to be held and touched in places that she would say were off limits to others, you wanted to be loved on until you wept begging for her to stop, but if you call her begging for that she wins. So your next best option was calling an old hookup.

The phone rang for a few seconds then someone answered.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Hey, Indiyah it’s y/n how’ve you been?” It was silent for a second then you heard a soft chuckle.

“Well damn, I thought you forgot who I was, whatchu been up to mama?” Damn, you missed that nickname.

“Oh nothing I was just seeing if you were busy” She knew exactly what that meant, Indiyah knew you weren’t going to flat-out ask her to come over and fuck so she quickly learned how to tell if you were needy or not.

“Nah I’m not, whatchu’ want me to come over?” You bit your bottom lip “Yeah.”

“Ight pretty girl I’m on my way.”

“Ok,” You giggled not thinking it would work. You haven’t spoken to her in months after you dropped all your girls for Shuri.

Feeling excited you ran to the bathroom to get ready. You took a shower, shaved, and put on light makeup and some cute lounging clothes. Last but not least you sprayed your favorite perfume making sure you smelled good, you checked yourself in the mirror one last time before smiling. You couldn’t even sit down to relax the doorbell rung. A giddy smile appeared on your lips as you jogged to the door.

“Hey boo” you greeted her with a sweet smile, she returned the smile looking you up and down.

“Damn mama you look good as fuck” you giggled feeling your cheeks heat up “Thank you.” Now wasting any time pulled her in shutting the door behind her.

“So…” you giggled nervously “how you wanna do this?“ without saying anything she gently pushed you onto the couch hovering over you

“Just let me take care of you pretty girl” She straddled your lap kissing you soft and sensually, her lipgloss tasted sweet with a hint of mint. You jolted feeling her cold hands roam under your tank as they caressed your nipples, you moaned against her lips loving the feeling. You could slowly feel that throbbing sensation between your thighs become worse aching to be pleased.

“Wait wait…” she pulled away looking down at you “You done with that panther freak right? Her and those warriors won’t jump me right?” You chuckled shaking your head.

“Yes she’s gone for good” she smirked, “good.”

She dipped down to connect your lips again, “damn I missed this” she moaned between kisses. Your hand found its way to her ass giving it a firm squeeze, “fuck baby.” Her kisses made their way down to your neck, she sucked and nibbled with every intention to leave hickeys.

“Mmhh come up out these baby,” she said moving off you as she tugged on your silk shorts. You slid them off with ease and opened your legs, without hesitation, she dropped to her knees hooking your hands under your thighs. She slowly kissed up your thighs while looking up at you “You so fuckin’ fine” you smiled down at her biting your lip “Thank you, baby.”

She began to lick up your right thigh up to your lady parts, you missed how she would lick you up and down like this. “fuck don’t tease me” you begged.

Granting your wish she began gently sucking on your throbbing clit, not too hard but enough to edge you “Ooh shit baby” you moaned as your eyes fluttered close.

Your hand reached for her braids as you tugged on them, in the middle of a blissful moment and feeling an immense amount of pleasure you suddenly hear your front door slam.

“Is this what you do when we argue? You go find someone else to fuck?” Your eyes shot open as heat rushed to your cheeks. You knew that thick Wakandan accent from anywhere.

You pushed Indiyah’s head from between your thighs and sat up “What the fuck are you doing here?” You asked visibly annoyed.

“Well I still have the key and I also pay bills here so, technically I can show up whenever I want.” She was so cocky it was annoying. You rolled your eyes quickly getting up to pull up your shorts.

“Nah you gotta go, bye!” You attempted to push her towards the door but she didn’t budge, “no thank you the only one who’s leaving is you” She stared at Indiyah with hatred oozing from her dark eyes, Indiyah just sat on the couch confused and nervous.

“Um, you told me you two were done?”

“We are” Shuri scoffed “You have two seconds to leave before we have a problem, so I advise you go” Shuri demeaned narrowing her eyes at the girl knowing good and well she wouldn’t challenge her, she was pulling her Panther card and it was unfair. Feeling intimidated Indiyah got up and grabbed her things.

“Tell me when you two really break up I’m out” she put an emphasis on really before walking out.

“Indi wait-“ Not wanting you to run after her Shuri grabbed your forearm pulling you back.

“Shuri let go of me I’m so sick and tired of you, damn you’re annoying.” You snatched your arm away walking to the kitchen and of course, she followed you.

“You don’t think I’m annoying when your legs are-“

“Shuri” you gave her a warning glare, she closed her mouth and rolled her eyes “What do you want?” You asked hoping if you give it to her she’d leave. She shrugged leaning against the counter “It’s been a few weeks since our fight you still can’t be mad at me can you?” She tilted her head with a fake pout, you rolled your eyes mushing her head away.

“You know damn well I’m still upset with you. I’m sick of your games Shuri you lie and expect me not to call you out I’m done.”

“You knew this wasn’t exclusive, we were never official” Hearing those words kind of stung. She’s right you two weren’t dating but that doesn’t mean you can’t feel a certain way.

“I- I know but if you weren’t guilty about what you’re doing you wouldn’t lie” she huffed shaking her head “I don’t tell you everything because I know how you are.”

“What do you- you know what I’m not doing this leave now” you demand pointing towards the door, “usana” she cooed stepping closer.

“Are you really going to make me leave?” She was closing in on you like a predator with its prey. Not wanting to fall for it you backed up until you hit the counter.

“Shuri-“

“Shh, my love you know I’m sorry right?” She cupped your face with both of her hands making you face her. She knew eye contact was the main way to make you fold easily.

‘Don’t fall for it’ was all you repeated in your head, you looked away avoiding eye contact as her veiny hands held your face. She was so intoxicating it was hard not to just say fuck it and give yourself to her, but you vowed to yourself that you would stay strong this time.

“Look at me” she demanded, feeling all self-control leave your body your eyes shot back to hers. All the anger and hatred you held melted away. Her once dark fierce eyes shifted back to her normal soft brown ones. Her eyes flickered down to your lips as she caressed them with her thumb.

“You know I don’t like it when you’re mad at me, this has been going on for too long and I miss you,” knowing she had you right where she wanted you she leaned in and kissed you. Your eyes fluttered close feeling yourself melt into the kiss, her kisses always left you aching and wanting more.

“Shuri” you whimpered against her lips.

“Yes, my love?” Feeling everything in you scream for her touch you just gave up.

“Take me please.” without a second thought she picked you up like it was nothing and as routine your legs instantly wrapped around her slim waist.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” You nodded with a whimper. Feeling the wetness seeping through her boxers Shuri quickly made it to your bedroom and kicked the door closed. She left multiple kissed on your neck as she gently laid you on the bed. She laid between your thighs kissing you with such lust and hunger. You both moan into each other's mouths, you tugging on her hair and Shuri gripping your thighs.

“Fuck I need you now” you whined feeling her pants rub against your clit through your thin shorts.

“Before I give you what you want, you need to be punished” you swallowed thickly staring up at her innocently.

“But Shuri-“

“Shut up, what did I tell you about letting people touch what’s mine? Do you like being a slut for other women huh? Answer me” she demanded as she grabbed your jaw pulling you towards her “N-no I’m sorry Shuri forgive me.”

“You know exactly what to do if you want forgiveness usana.” She tugged off her shirt moving from between your thighs. You immediately sat up and laid across your her lap and she pulled your shorts down to your thighs.

“You ready? If it’s too much let me know” You nodded giving her all the consent she needed.

She started on your left cheek leaving a smack that echoed through the room, your back arched and your toes curled.

“Ah fuck” you whined as your voice broke trying to hold in a sob.

“Keep count” was all she said before leaving another spank. You gripped the covers burying your face into them before letting out a whimper. She spanked you again and again then switched sides, the feeling between pain and pleasure was a thin line at the moment but you could care less it felt good.

“F-fuck Shuri’m sorry please” you whined feeling tears roll down your cheeks. Shuri’s ego grew at the sight of you begging her to stop.

“How many was that?”

“Eight” feeling as if that was enough for now she gently rubbed both sides of your ass before leaving a kiss on your lower back.

“Good girl now get on your knees you’re far from being done” You obeyed her getting up slowly, you started feeling the stinging sensation intensify as you moved to the floor but you chose to ignore it.

“How may I please you?” You asked as you knelt on the hardwood floor, without speaking Shuri pulled off her pants along with her boxers. She spread her long pretty legs showing you her glistening cunt.

“Eat it” You scooted closer rubbing your hands along her thighs, you tugged her closer to the edge of the bed so you could please her properly. You parted her wet lips running your thumb along her clit, you guessed she was feeling sensitive as she hissed at the little touch.

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to play with your food? be a good girl for me and taste it” Not wanting to anger her you leaned in and kissed it before licking up her dripping juices. Before you indulged yourself in her you got an idea. You reached for your nightstand pulling out your vibrator. You peered at her for permission to use it and she gave you a nod.

You switched it to the lowest setting before repositioning yourself back between her legs.

You teased her clit with it before sliding your tongue into her, Shuri’s head fell back in pleasure. As you circled her clit with the vibrator you could feel her walls clench around your tongue.

“Fuck baby” she whimpered gripping the covers. Her back began to arch as the vibrator flicked her clit, feeling cocky you clicked the vibrator up a notch. You watched as her eyes screw shut, seeming it might’ve been too much you moved the toy away continuing to eat her out.

You hummed against her giving her clit a little nibble “Mmm you taste so good baby,” You cooed rubbing circles into her hips.

“Faster” she breathed out “go faster.” As asked you flicked your tongue faster, sucking on her swollen clit. Wanting her to reach her high you slid in two fingers and curled them up hitting her g spot.

“Fuck! Fuck!” She let go of the covers and latched onto your curls, she pushed your head down deeper in her pussy enjoying the feeling of being on the edge of cumming. Feeling sadistic you pulled away with a smirk, the bottom half of your face was covered in her juices.

“Y/n what the fuck?!” She sat up with a confused look feeling frustrated.

“I want you to sit on my face please” You stood up from the floor and crawled onto the bed, you gave her a sloppy kiss before removing her bra, and you quickly kissed down her breasts before coming back up with a grin.

“You gonna do it?” She nodded with a grin pushing you onto the bed, she moved up placing her knees on the side of your head “Tap my thigh three times if you want to stop” You nodded.

She lowered herself gently and began to ride your face, feeling that intense feeling from before return her hips stuttered a bit. A high pitch moan escaped her lips as she fastened her pace “You are such a little slut for letting me ride your face, you like that shit don’t you?”

Letting her know you enjoyed it you hummed, the vibrations made her whimper even louder. Having a feeling she was close you stuck your tongue out letting her ride it.

“F-fuuuuuck!!” Shuri leaned back with her arms resting on your thighs, her movements became quicker and quicker. The feeling of your tongue sliding in and out of her as your nose hit her clit drove her wild. You reached a hand up to play with your nipples as she threw her head bad in pleasure.

“I’m- im cumming fuuuck!” she screamed as her grip on your thighs tightened. You just gently held her hips helping her move back and forth as she rode out her high. As she finished she collapsed beside you with her eyes closed breathing heavily.

You grinned as you took your fingers to clean up your face and licked them clean, “do you forgive me now?” You innocently ask kissing her lips.

“Yes, now you can go get it” You knew exactly what she meant, you excitedly hopped off and reached under your bed for your toy box. You pulled out the dark brown realistic-looking strap on, and handed it to her. While she got it adjusted you laid down waiting for her.

She caressed your face as she climbed on top of you. She maneuvered her self between you taking one leg and resting it on her shoulder, she teased you a bit tapping your soaking clit before sliding it in. You moaned at the feeling of her stretching you out, “Ooh shit baby.”

She pumped in and out slowly letting you get adjusted, when she thought you could take it she sped up. You reached for the pillow behind gripping it you as your eyes fluttered shut “f-fuck right there” The aching feeling you’ve been feeling all night was finally being attended to and it felt so damn good. The way the veins on the dildo rubbed against your g spot had you crying her name.

“Ohhh fuck Shuri r-right there!” She kissed your ankle before removing your leg off her shoulder, and instantly your legs wrapped around her waist “Be a good girl and take it for me like I know you can.”

Hearing her speak to you in such and calm tone while drilling into like her personal fuck doll you made you clench around her. You became whiny and started to squirm under her, not be able to take anymore you pushed against her chest. With ease, Shuri took your hands and trapped them above your head while her other one held onto your hips.

“Fuck” you cried out feeling an unfamiliar pressure building up in the pit of your stomach. She watched as your face contort in pleasure as your breasts bounced with each thrust. It was almost mesmerizing to her.

Your whines got louder as that feeling in your stomach grew tighter, Shuri could feel you squeezing around her, she knew you were close. She continued to hold your hands above your head while the other one slipped down between you to play with your clit, she watched her dildo disappear and reappear as a white creamy ring formed at the base.

“Fuc- fuuuuuck I’m close!”

“I know baby, I know hold on just a little longer” She gently kissed your sweaty neck as her thrusts became rougher, your thighs squeezed around her and your back arched off the bed. You couldn’t take it much longer, your head was dizzy and you were seeing stars.

She moved closer to your ear to encourage your release“Breath usana, let go and breathe. Come on I know you can do it you’re so close” A few more strokes plus hearing her whisper in your ear was the cherry on top. You obeyed her and let go, you cried out her name as you came with a warm liquid shooting all over the bottom of Shuri’s torso. Pleased with you she trusted and few more times and then pulled out.

“Good girl, you did so well for me” Her sweaty body collapsed right beside you.

“I didn’t mean to-“

“Shhh, we’ll clean it up later,” Trying to catch your breath you both lay there in silence, you could still feel your cum leaking down your thighs.

“I’m sorry baby I really am” she breathed heavily as she kissed your damped forehead. You and Shuri been through everything together no matter how bad you fight in the end you’ll end up going right back to each other.

“I know baby, I know.”

Taglist 💌 : @locoforshuri @6-noir @saintwrld @vampzxi @ihearttish @cafehyunji @sapphicvqmpires @yamsthoughts @shuriszn @shurismainbxtch @oceean @shurislover @siqueth @shurisbathwater, @zayswriting

Shuri’s Masterlist

[mmjmmj]

For the fic ideas/requests, I think lee!Vox and ler!Velvette would be cute :3

Here you go anon! Hope you liked this, I tried my best :)

Dont you dare!:

Hazbin Hotel |Tickle fic|

Lee!Vox

Ler!Velvette

Summary: Vox says a little cocky remark which triggers Velvette to teach the Tv host a lesson.

It was normal day for the V’s as usual, the group separated to do their own work for the day. Vox ended up being the first one to finish work and do his own stuff in his own time.

Vox got home, made himself a cup of coffee, and retreated to the living room area, where he sat down and turned the tv on, relaxing out as his gaze averted to the tv screen.

One habit Vox had was just not watching tv, but it was watching camera CCTV of the Hazbin Hotel, just so he could hopefully get a glimpse of Alastor or have some intel that he could use for his own personal use and advantage, he hated the radio demon after all.

Not too long after Vox got home, the shortest, and most stylish of the V’s came home, opening the door and walking through, shutting it behind herself, though she had not noticed Vox yet, she was too busy texting and tapping on her phone.

Vox looked back to see the overlord stood there texting away. Speaking out. "You use your phone too much." Vox spoke, a little grin growing on his screen.

Velvette looked up from her phone to see the Tv host starting back at her, a little smirk on her face as well. "Good afternoon to you too, Vox." Velvette said, walking over and sitting next to him.

"Where’s Val?" Vox questioned, cocking a brow in question. Velvette relaxed in her seat before she responded.

"Valentino won’t be home until late tonight, he still has some shoots to finish before he can go home." Velvette told Vox, looking over at the television now seeing what Vox was watching, scoffing at this. This habbit was annoying to Valentino and Velvette sometimes, each time something would happen for example, the radio demon appearing on screen, Vox would rant and rave about how he hated Alastor and how he wanted him dead.

"Again with this?" Velvette asked, folding her arms, narrowing her gaze towards Vox.

"What?" Vox asked, saying it like he had no idea on what Velvette was talking about, as if that the Hazbin Hotel wasn’t on screen, blaring at the two.

"You know what, Vox! Alastor isn’t just going to appear on screen you know! You’re very obsessive of him aren’t you?" Velvette asked, earning a scoff from Vox.

"Oh fuck you, I am fucking not!" Vox growled, his Tv voice coming in to play when he spoke. "I need to know what he has planned, he wouldn’t just be running a hotel for no reason.." Vox mumbled, Velvette snickered in response to this.

"That just sounds like you’re obsessed with him, if he was on the screen right now you would be whining about how you hate him." Velvette said.

"Oh fuck off, that’s better then bitching over models not wearing a few dresses that you don’t like." Vox had really done it when he said, Velvette narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance.

"Excuse me? Did you just call me a bitch?" Velvette asked, placing her phone down by a nearby coffee table.

"See? You’re already stressing out just from me talking about him and now your being rude…" Then an idea popped up in Velvette’s head, a sinister one at that.

"I think I’m going to have to destress you for this." Velvette said in a low tone, Vox’s eyes winded, immediately scooting a bit away from her.

"Don’t you fucking dare.." Vox said in a warning tone, Velvette had known him long enough to know what his weaknesses was, and this certain little weakness, mortified him, and Vox had known Velvette enough to know what she would do if he annoyed her.

"Don’t I dare do what? What exactly do you think I’m gonna do?" Velvette asked, unable to hide that grin that was growing on her face, scooting closer towards the other V.

Vox could feel that nervousness building up in his body, leaning back away from her, leaving him in a very vulnerable spot to get attacked. "Y-You fucking know what! Look I’m sorry, I-It was just a slip of tongue.. you know?" Vox mumbled, he smiled sheepishly, unable to stop that blue blush glowing across his screen.

But it was too late, the shorter overlord pounced onto Vox, reaching down and digging her fingers right into his tummy, earning a nice sharp squeal from Vox, already giggling up a storm.

"EHEHHEEK! Wahahahahahahait, hohohohohohold ohohohohon! Vehehehehellvette!" Vox begged but Velvette just couldn’t stop now! Vox’s pitched giggles were too adorable to resist.

"Hmmm, what was that? I’m sorry, Vox you’re gonna have to speak properly! Mind turning on your subtitles?" Velvette cooed, her sharp her scribbling all over Vox’s tummy, with no remorse, making the tv host hiccup through his giggles, already becoming a flustered mess.

Vox shook his head in question, blush attacking his screen as he struggled to handle the tickles that were already destroying him. "Ohohohohohoho fuhuhuhuhuhuck ohohohohohoff stohohohohohohop tihihihihihickling m-mehehehehe!" Vox giggled away, Vellette traced her nails town from his tummy down to hips and squeezing the hipbones, rewarding herself a sharper, high pitched squeal from Vox.

"NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHE HIPS!!" Vox screeched, Velvette now had this playful little smirk on her face as she tickled the very sensitive overlord’s hips. "Not where? I can’t hear you, you’re screaming way too loud!" Velvette teased, the hip squeezing intensified quickly, determined to tickle the Tv host to a giggly little puddle.

Vox let out a girlish like shriek, kicking his legs as he was being tickled to a pulp, his blue blush attacking his whole screen, he began to now buffer out a little as he was tickled. "EHEHEHAHAHAHAHA-HEHEHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO STAHAHAH-AHAHAHAP! NAHAHAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!" Vox began, already tearing up from the tickles. Velvette smirked and thought for a second.

"Hmm you’re right.. I am getting pretty bored of tickling her, how about… here?!" Velvette reached up and held Vox’s antennas, fiddling with them with her thumbs, scratching along them. Fucking jackpot. This caused Vox’s whole screen to go to a static for a few seconds before returning to now a big smile, and loud cackling.

Vox reached and gripped on Velvette’s wrist in defence to stop her tickling his poor antennas. "VEHEHEHEHEH-EHEHEHEHELVETTE! NOHOHOHO-OHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE OHOHOHOHOHO FUHUUHUHUHUHUHHUCK! MEHEHEHEHEHEHERCY! MERCY!"

"What was that? Did you say something?" Velvette asked, her grin growing sharper as her little prey began to plead and beg for mercy.

Vox shrieked out squeezing his eyes shut as he got absolutely WRECKED. "I SAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAID FUHUHUHUHUHUCKING MERCY!" Vox screamed, feeling his screen overheat as his whole screen flushed.

Velvette finally spared poor Vox, leaving him a little giggly mess, sinking into the couch. "I-I’m sohohohohohohorry!" Vox apologised.

"All is forgiven, you just need to watch your mouth when you speak to me like that, or else I’ll just tickle my favourite Tv host until he cant see clearly!" Velvette teased, moving off of Vox and seating herself back on the couch. "Though we both know you liked it~".

"N-NO I-I FUCKING DID NOT!" Vox whined, the blush that was fading, coming back and attacking his screen again.

"I’m only messing with you!" Velvette giggled, looking at the sight she caused.

"Now let’s both relax now. Valentino will be home soon." Vox nodded in agreement as he sat up, using his power to change the Tv channel to something else other than the Hazbin hotel. If he ever wanted to be tickled again he might just have to make snide remarks Velvette more often…

[aftersamu]

THE EXIT PAIRING: r.suna x gn!reader GENRE: angst + exposure of the bet trope (enemies to lovers to enemies)

it gets personal at the end, and this has such a different energy to anything i've written before. like there's harsh words, fucked up tropes, and it's definitely more 2010 teen drama. proceed with caution <3

a party.

people crowding the living room and backyard of the house, 20+ bottles of alcohol, red cups lining every table and surface, casual hookups, and girls rushing to the bathroom to throw up, and others blacked out on the grass.

you lost suna throughout the night, got invested in a conversation with a girl you've never spoken to before. and once you realised he was gone, you searched for him.

asking around for his whereabouts, getting closer and closer to finding a distinct location. osamu told you where to go, and you went. ducking underneath the velvet rope blocking off steps, and heading up.

turning every corner, trying to open every door, with a ear pressed to each closed surface. and down the hall, at the corner, a small ray of light illuminates the hallway.

you walk forward, starting to hear the hushed conversation and walking on your toes, holding your breath in your chest as you approach the slightly opened door.

back pressing against the wall, hiding in the shadows you listen. maybe it's nothing serious and you're being nosey, feeding off drama that might not even involve you.

until you hear your name.

"so, how are things going between the two of you?" atsumu, his voice is easily identifiable. "it's been a couple months since they've stopped hating you, i take it's a good sign."

"look, i don't think this is a good idea anymore." suna sighs, "it was fun for a while, but it's getting pretty serious now."

"you going soft rintarō?" atsumu teases, "i thought you hated that bitch, now you're sympathetic? what happened?"

"i don't know man, my fucking morals kicked in, i guess." suna quips, he's frustrated. you can see his shadow pacing around. "look this was fun, the games, but i don't know if i can do it anymore."

"so... you fucked?" atsumu bluntly remarks, "come on mate, i'm not stupid. you wouldn't be backing out unless you two fucked."

"yeah, well, it happened and now i'm screwed because you're a dickhead and i'm an idiot." suna scoffs, "it ends now, i'll give you the money, i don't want to do this stupid bet anymore."

bet. of fucking course, how cliche of them. how naive of you to think of giving suna a chance, he's a dickhead, you knew that. but, there's no way he spent six months trying to get in good with you for a bet.

no amount of money could have him commit for this long. or at least you think, it was a moment of boredom and a way to make easy money. two rich kids who have nothing better to do other than drop a grand on a bet.

a gambling scheme.

with twist and turns, challenges and money rewards. to keep them both interested in the little plan, one that has been pulled straight from a reality tv show.

"you're backing out now? it's been half a year, i think it's too late to feel remorse now." atsumu states, "do you need a recap of how much money we've bet? do you know how much money has been exchanged during this entire ordeal?"

"no, i don't, and don't be a dick." suna snaps, "you are just as much a part of this as i am."

"yeah, but i wasn't the one who brought it up." atsumu retorts, "i wasn't the one who stood up, and bet that i could get in good with them. that i could manipulate them with my killer charm."

"yes, but you proposed those sick side bets. bring them to the party, kiss them on this day, get them to make the first move within a week." suna mocks, "you're no better than me."

"so what? you going to go down there and tell them that you've been manipulating them for a little extra cash? that you've been fucking around with others the same time you've been buying them flowers, and making them eggs in the morning?"

your heart is beating hard against your chest, is it the anger, sadness, or alcohol that's giving you vertigo? is it the betrayal that causes all feeling to escape from your body, or is it how you feel like a complete idiot that sends you barging into the room.

you kick the door wide open, face red, and eyes already watering. the look of shock on suna's face and fear that paints it, and atsumu's smugness ever so present.

"don't even try." you say, holding up a finger to stop the brunette from saying anything. it's so funny, you can't seem to stop the manic smile from growing on your lips.

"let me explain–"

"oh, yeah sure. i don’t hate you babe, i never hated you, i love you, you’re everything i need. you’re the only one who understands me, and sees me. i can’t hate you." you mock, bringing up the words he spoke to you. "shut the fuck up suna."

it's as if those months have vanished, and all you feel is pure hate and rage towards those eyes that you thought you loved.

"you definitely outdid yourself with this one, this whole fucking twisted six month plan of yours.” you dryly laugh, bringing your hands up, "oh, but love, i don't feel that way, i tried to back out." you mimic. "go fuck yourself."

god, you seem so delusional.

"it's not like that!"

"yeah, and i like totally care." you say, rolling your eyes, "you don't mean shit. so pay miya what you owe and move on, because you lost! that's what you get for being a fucking cunt."

"love, you're drunk." suna sighs, taking a step towards you.

"don't come near me," you deadpan. "you manipulative, sick fuck. you will never be good enough for anybody, no one will ever love you, your sister doesn't even want to see you. i see you, and you're an insecure, needy, fucking freak."

you want to strike a nerve, and you know you have. you want to cause pain, regain some dignity that you've lost. you may have seen the worst of him, but he has not seen the worst of you.

"i'm done with you, i fucking hate you... and you're friends are hotter."

[bucknastysbabe]

Thank you hotd fam for making me feel like a million bucks— it’s also so freeing and fun to be confident and open about this to ppl in my personal life. I told my aa sponsor and she was like YES GIRL! What a queen. Next up for HOTD I’m gonna try to get into the obsessive Criston hcs but I am a busy bitch

Anyways this nasty shit has been sitting in my drafts TOO DAMN LONG. I have so many Bucky blurbs if anyone is into those— they’re already written. BUT in honor of going to an all day Catholic event tomorrow I’m going to try to get excommunicated by posting this. Ladies and gents and fancy folx I bring you: ✝️beefy priest bucky✝️

Noble and Chaste

“Lust; disordered desire for or inordinate enjoyment of sexual pleasure.” -Catechism of the Catholic Church

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Rough oral (m!receiving), priest kink, LOTS OF SACRILEGE, teasing, confession booth, manipulation, age difference, dom!bucky, priest!bucky, BEEFCAKE BUCK, reader is of age, degradation, dirty talk, deep throating, f!masturbation, smuttysmutsmut

1977

St. Maria Goretti Boarding School. Also known as where parents send their daughters who are whores or have a temperance issue. Or both, just like you. Your parents sent you up the east coast to this place in upstate New York. It was down the road from an asylum. You felt that was a planned threat.

You placed your new record onto the player. It was the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever. You loved disco so much. Back in New York you’d gone to some clubs and partied all night long to their songs. Now you were here surrounded by idiots and dusty nuns. At least the priest was funny. You had a year left, this being your senior year. You could pretend to be normal and get back into your parents good graces before fucking off to college and being free again.

For now you smoked out of the window, singing to the along to ‘Night Fever’. Wanda whined from her bed, “No smokingggg, Sister Agatha will whip us again.” You rolled your eyes and snickered, “You want one or not Maximoff?” She groaned and joined you on the windowsill, lighting up.

The girl was accused by her parents of being into ‘witchcraft’. In reality she just liked crystals and horoscopes. She took a drag and spoke on the exhale, “Did you hear about the assistant priest coming to train under Father Dugan?” You whinged, “He better be hot this time. The one two years ago was a square.”

Wanda gasped, “Girl! He’s a man of the cloth.”

The pair of you devolved into giggles, bumping shoulders affectionately. You spent the afternoon gossiping and planning on how one would seduce the young priest.

You ended up wearing your skirt from freshman year. You’d grown since then, leaving little to the imagination. Of course you had your thick white tights on underneath. If your button popped loose on your shirt during the nightly meeting, everyone would be too prudish to say anything until afterward. Wanda dolled you up with the little makeup the pair of you had smuggled.

The nightly meetings were a bore. It was run by Father Dugan. They were a time for the ladies to share about a topic and learn how to deal with it more ‘christ-like’. Sometimes you’d just start laughing uncontrollably to Sister Agatha’s chagrin. You strolled in, last in line of the senior girls. There was about twelve of you, filling the chairs. Sister Agatha watched like a hawk from the back of the small room.

Father Dugan walked in with the new priest. A collective low burble of noises broke out amongst the ladies. You whispered to Wanda, “Fuck— he’s like sex on legs.” Dugan smiled knowingly but you focused in on the new one. He was powerfully built, all wide shoulders and huge arms. The priest had brown hair to his neck and the prettiest lips. His angel face and baby blues didn’t quite match up with being sturdy as a brick shithouse.

He introduced himself softly, “Hello, I’m Father Barnes. I’ll be helping Father Dugan here until I’m assigned to my first parish. I can’t wait to get to know you lovely ladies of the Lord.”

You lowly groaned, “I can’t wait either.”

The pair of holy men sat in two of the chairs in the circle. You eyed Barnes’ chest straining his black garb. God he was gorgeous. Father Dugan started with a prayer and some scripture. He began, “And with that, I’d like to talk about confession and honesty today.” You snorted when the others all suddenly had something to say. They could try but he was yours.

You sat through the boring drivel and bit back a laugh when Elizabeth burst into tears about lying to her parents. Agatha cleared her throat pointedly, staring you down. You caught blue eyes on you, and smiled good-naturedly at Father Barnes. He blushed and redirected his attention to the squalling Elizabeth. Wanda elbowed you.

“Since you seem to be so invested, why don’t you share your thoughts?,” Dugan asked humorously as he pointed at you. You laughed flatly, straightened up and crossed your legs. You dryly rambled, “Well Father. To be human is to sin. We’re born with it. Instead of holding onto the guilt I just confess it. Whether it’s to you or my friend, I have to be honest. Even if I just pray to the Holy Spirit. Keeps me in check.”

Dugan replied, “Well said. Humans are sinful. So we must-“ You blocked off his voice to a dull hum as you ‘accidentally’ popped a button on your shirt, revealing your cleavage. Wanda smirked from next to you. You stretched your arms, highlighting the opening. Father Barnes’ eyes flickered over before dropping to the ground. Then repeating again. Hooked. With an exaggerated gasp you excused yourself from the meeting, citing ‘impropriety’.

You relaxed in your bed, kicking your legs as you laughed. Wanda busted in and pointed at you. She hissed, “You little minx! He watched your ass when you left the meeting!” You rolled onto your side with a smirk. You drawled, “I just gotta get some more info,” you hugged yourself dramatically, “get closer!” Wanda cackled in glee before Sister Maria told you two to hush through the door.

The next day you were in the cavernous library. Considering all your faults you did try to keep your grades up to secure your way out. You wrote down equations, a bored hand supporting your head. You heard a door open behind you, and some footsteps echoing after.

“Dugan warned me about you,” Barnes spoke.

He tried to sound confident but you picked up on the slight crack in his voice. You smirked at your paper before schooling it into a placid expression. You retorted, “Whatever do you mean, Father?” You turned to face the young priest, who perched on a table two rows away. His muscular arms were crossed defensively.

Barnes’ lips pouted as he stared you down. A few beats of silence passed over the room before he spoke again.

“I think you know what I mean,” he deadpanned.

You mimicked the clergyman’s pose, turning around to sit on the table. You spread your legs ever-so-slightly. Barnes’ eyes stayed on your face but his jaw twitched and cheeks flushed. You purred, “Tell me. What did Dugan say about me?” You thought the man was going to explode as he slapped his hand down on the table and spluttered, “Quit with the nonsense!”

Your lips stretched into a catlike grin.

“Tell you what Father, I’ll confess to you what I do so sinfully. Then we can start fresh huh?”

The angered brunette’s heaving chest slowed as he processed your words. Accusing blue orbs bore into you before he clicked his tongue. Barnes replied, “Fine. Lead the way.” You laughed and hopped off the table, swaying down the hallway leading to the chapel and confession booths. You felt his heat close behind, but the man kept quiet.

You entered the booth, kneeling immediately. The priest entered the other side, the curtains closing with a swish. You heard the wood creak as he sat down. He cleared his throat awkwardly. You made a sign of the cross while speaking, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was one month ago."

You saw his silhouette shift behind the screen. You continued, “Since my last confession I’ve sinned greatly. I was inattentive and late to the last mass. I didn’t show respect for my classmates. I’ve been prideful, angry, envious, and a gossip.” The priest hummed quietly as you breathed, “I’ve been especially bad lately. A lustful sort. I know why Dugan said what he did.”

His breath hitched as you falsely expressed sorrow in your next words.

“I haven’t been chaste in word and thought. I’ve had impure thoughts and gratified myself sexually to them. I just can’t help it. It’s been so long since I’ve been fucked.” Your voice petered out in a sigh, “And you look so good.”

He growled suddenly, “Do you think this is a joke?”

You shook your head vehemently. You cried, “I’m so sorry— do you think I’ll be forgiven?”

You yelped as he jerked out of the booth. You thought he was leaving before a big hand ripped you up violently by the arm. Barnes pressed you up against the unforgiving wood of the confessional. His nostrils flared and jaw ticked as he furiously glared at you. The brunette’s hand gripped your arm in a vice.

You held his gaze, panting softly. He hissed, “You probably won’t be forgiven. But neither will I.” His lips sealed against yours roughly, dominating the space. You opened up, letting the man take his rising frustrations out. Your free arm wrapped around his neck, gripping at the base of his skull. You moaned lowly as he nipped your lip, big body pressing into your giving flesh.

The priest let go of your arm to move both hands down to your ass, squeezing forcefully. He groaned raggedly, “Fuckin’ Jezebel— Delilah— Been thinkin’ bout that ass since last night. Whore of Fuckin’ Babylon.” You whined at his words, chasing his plump lips eagerly. Father Barnes sucked on your tongue before massaging it with his own. His thick cock pressed into your waist, throbbing hotly.

You moaned, “Wanna suck you off— please.”

He pushed you down quickly. You cried out when your knees hit the wood floor. He jammed two thick fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Saliva filled your mouth as you sucked the best you could. His eyes rolled back and you saw his cock twitch under his dark slacks. The brunette breathed out, “Do it then, do it since you need it so bad. Slutty little thing.”

Trembling hands undid his belt and popped the button. You slid down the zipper and pulled him out with a shaky noise around his unmoving fingers. Drool fell down your chin, dropping onto the floor between your thighs. Your pussy throbbed and clenched in need. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, sucking on the wet digits with a long groan. Your hands held onto the man’s hips as you slid him in your mouth.

You started with kitten licks around his tip before swiping your tongue against the leaking slit, savoring the salty taste. The priest swore and groaned, thighs flexing. Then you started to suck and hollow your cheeks to take him in. His hips thrusted forward and you gagged. Barnes cursed, “Fuck— you’re gonna take this cock like a good girl now. I’m gonna fuck your throat, mhm.” You nodded around his length, sucking air in through your nose.

Tears slid down your face as he eased the hot flesh down your throat. Eventually your body accepted the intrusion and he started an easy rhythm, hips thrusting shallowly. The man let out a weak noise and gripped at your hair. He quickly sped up, the slick noises of your throat heightening. Father Barnes hissed, “Sh-shit you feel good. Damned succubus.” His strokes stuttered when you whined pathetically on a particularly hard jerk of his hips.

You reached a hand down between your legs, shoving your fingers into your panties to get at your swollen clit. He laughed breathlessly, “Yeah pretty girl— come when I fill your whore mouth.” You circled your fingers harder around the sensitive bud, bucking onto your hand. He was earnestly fucking your throat now, you choking on a whimper every other thrust. The man of the cloth fared no better, running a frantic hand through his long hair and softly begging for forgiveness as he let out a particularly high noise.

Barnes cried out, “G-gonna come, fuck, fuck!” He pulled you flush to his pelvis, your nose hitting his wiry curls. You felt him twitch and swell as the man emptied down your throat. You seized up on your fingers and wailed around his dick as you gushed in your panties. The brunette slid out with a whimper as you gasped for breath. Your swollen lips throbbed as you heaved in. The clergyman rubbed a big hand against your cheek.

He looked down at you, pinkened cheeks and hazy eyes making him look like an angel. Barnes demanded softly, “Act of contrition.” You whined a ‘huh’ as he repeated harder, “Say the act of contrition.”

You made another sign of the cross with a weak hand as you hoarsely prayed, “O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell. But most of all because I have offended you, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve with the help of your grace, to confess my sins, to do penance and to amend my life. Amen.”

He drawled, “You’re absolved. Come back next week.”

Barnes extended his other hand to help you up. You stumbled like a newborn foal into his broad chest. His stony face eased into a soft smile as he murmured, “Such a good girl. You alright?” You nodded against his chest, worn out from the experience. He kissed your forehead and warned, “No speaking of this. Then maybe I’ll let you come on my tongue next time.”

[avelera]

Random thoughts on the D&D movie in no particular order:

I loved the jokes. All of them. All the stupid jokes. I was their target audience and they succeeded at making me cackle at dumb shit while my partner's soul left his body

The landscape shots were breathtaking and honestly made me tear up at the beauty in places. In the theater, I remember thinking, "Yeah, FUCK yeah, these guys understood the assignment!" Nine out of ten times, I think fantasy should be animated, because if you don't pour millions into the budget, the action looks like crummy LARPers wearing silly costumes in the woods. This movie understood that if you're doing live action fantasy, you owe your audience some damn beautiful landscape shots and damn did they deliver on some beautiful landscape shots.

(cut for spoilers)

I sincerely appreciated Holga and her husband being divorced but still amicable. I'm so tired of the trope of exes being evil or awful. They just seemed like two adults who wanted to love each other but the circumstances of being together doomed them from the start. It was played for laughs but it was just a moment I genuinely enjoyed as divorcee. I also loved her ex's new wife looking exactly like her, both for the gag, and for what it said about both of them being each other's type even if it didn't work out.

I also cackled like a hyena at Holga's halfling fetish while also finding it rather sweet and enjoyed imagining all the reasons why she might have that preference lol

As a basic Drizzt Do'Urden loving bitch, I squeed when I saw Icewind Dale on the map. Then I had a moment between that and the Underdark of wondering, "Am I gonna see him? Even in the distance? Am I going to see my first love, Drizzt Do'Urden??"

And then I realized: the Paladin. The Paladin is Drizzt. Only good person who came out of a nation destroyed by evil. Too good for this world, too pure, to the point of being sanctimonious but is also a hottie. Xenk is Drizzt.

Oh, I also squeed when I saw the Underdark.

I appreciated how knowledge of D&D improved certain story beats (like the gelatinous cube or the displacer beast) but wasn't required to enjoy the plot. That's how references should be done.

The most agonizingly cringe moment for me was when Holga was dying. Just. I appreciated the beat. It couldn't go any other way. They delivered on their set up with the tablet, the only question was ever, "Who besides his wife is going to get saved with it?" And it made perfect sense who it was. I'm glad they didn't try to pull a fast one. But the scene was like... 10 seconds too long of her dying for me to not roll my eyes. We know you're going to use the tablet on her, dipshit, please keep this moving.

BUT I think the reason they did it was to land a sincere moment with the daughter, and I appreciated that. I think the scene could have been improved by Holga being like, "Don't you fucking dare use that tablet on me!" and then smacking him when he did it anyway and then he'd have to explain that he set out to save his daughter's mother, not his wife, who has passed on, etc etc. but I'm not sure that would have been much better so maybe the drawn-out opera death scene and the sincerity was better in the end idk.

I KINDA wanted to see the actors as the players playing D&D BUT I know why they didn't and it was a wise choice, it undermines the drama too much to say it doesn't matter because it's a game. Maybe if instead they'd should the characters playing D&D in universe as normal humans? Idk

I thought there'd be more Xenk? I thought he'd be in the arena with them? A little bummed but I also loved his GM NPC energy.

The combat and camera work was great! Genuinely enjoyable and well made, I appreciated the artistry that went into it.

Loved the bardic distraction scene for truly capturing the chaos of a D&D party's attempt at breaking and entering

Loved the portals bit for truly capturing the strategy and planning that can go into a functioning D&D campaign's clever heist, even if I'm sure it would have taken 5 sessions to plot out IRL

Honestly, it was just a fun, solid film! It's been a while since I've seen such a fun, solid film! I would buy it and put it on in the background to just enjoy and not angst over it! It was worth the price of admission, it was faithful to the spirit of D&D instead of sneering at it the way the early 2000s one did, and I had a good time! It wasn't the highest of art but it would have been weird if it had been! I liked it a lot!

[bridgetoesoteria]

🔥🐉Messages for 2024🔮✨

Sorry for the delay 😅 Got a bit carried away yesterday.

There are three decks for three piles, left to right. Each pile also gets two bonus affirmations to start their year 🥳.

Asking for messages/ what you need to know heading into 2024! Hope it resonates <3

Pile 1: Rider-Waite

Off the bat: I am getting something about your love life. It could be prominent for the first 3 months of this year.

Be less tense. Maybe get into yoga or pilates or something similar. Some people might enjoy strength training.

4 Card Spread: Ace of Swords, Wheel of Fortune, 9 of Cups (R), High Priestess. Bottom of deck is Queen of Wands.

I can see why some of you may be tense. I think you have a lot going on. In particular, there could be a toxic situation or individual you have been dealing with. I almost want to say managing. It won't be a relationship for all of you. It could be any domineering masculine figure in your life or a job situation. I'm saying this because right under the Queen of Wands is the Devil and a few other negative cards, bookended by the King of Wands.

Anywho, despite that I am getting a positive message for you heading into 2024. I kept hearing that "you know the truth." So I don't know if someone has been trying to gaslight you or if you are learning to trust your intuition. Either way, you only benefit from trusting what you know in your gut is the truth of a person or situation.

You are much more resilient than you may know. Or maybe you are just tired of having to be resilient (i feel that). I think that is going to motivate you to start taking more control of your life. I'm not a doctor and if you are feeling depressed, or just not okay emotionally, please reach out to someone for help. With the 9 of cups reversed, some of you may be feeling super unfulfilled, disappointed, and despondent.

The Wheel of Fortune is next to it however, it is my "things are looking up," card. So I see the lack of fulfillment changing. For some this may require you learning how to be more "selfish" or getting rid of a person with a selfish attitude! I see you giving them the boot and them just swirling away like they're being flushed 🚽 lol. These changes may even benefit you financially.

TL;DR: So I guess the overall message is to stand in your power. Remember you are that bitch/guy/person. Or at least you can be if you so choose. Better boundaries and less need for external validation will bring you a lot of peace. You know the truth and the right thing to do. You can trust your intuition

Pile 2: Lucid Dreams Beginners Tarot

Off the bat: You could feel a little scatter brained right now. You might feel like your mind is buzzing and there is a lot to do! Slow down a little so you don't mix things up. I almost grabbed the wrong deck for your pile. Double check everything. Don't lose shit!

You may want to meditate.

4 Card Spread: The Tower, The Fool, Ten of Pentacles, and Queen of Pentacles. Bottom of deck is Seven of Swords.

You know...just as I was beginning to shuffle, I got a message about the soft life. Maybe you should allow yourself to be pampered and blessed more. Not just by people but the universe and yourself.

Also, are there scammers in this pile cause I'm getting some finessing energy 🤣. If you are living a city girl type of life, tread carefully. Just giving this warning because of the 7 of swords and Tower. But you seem to think quick on your feet so you will be good. Work hard but keep your hands clean. You want to build a lasting dynasty.

For others, you could be planning a wedding or planning to elope. Maybe some of you are actually reconsidering marriage all together. It doesn't feel negative but more like, you feel you need more time on your own. Maybe a recent success at work or another area of life has you wondering about the health of the grass just yonder 🤔. Should you follow your heart or stay where you are? I don't know just don't do anything crazy and focus on your legacy/long-term goals.

I can't ignore all the pentacles. In some way, money and foundations are important. This could be related to your family, legacy, inheritance, career, etc. There is emphasis on your physical world. Some of you could be going against family traditions or in some way stepping out on your own. You feel ready to carve out your own path and it is hard to hold it in any longer.

Some of you could go back to an ex or someone you are separated from. For others, that could be the very thing you are rebelling against. I'm hearing "who said I have to choose you?!" You could just now be realizing that you have autonomy and the feeling is intoxicating. There is a male energy present. I can't tell if this is a family member or significant other. Be wary of this person. They are a bit stuck in their ways.

TL;DR: You want to take life by the horns. You feel so ready for it! I feel like it could have been a long time coming for many of you. See what it feels like to be free. Just don't get too carried away! Be wary of the intentions behind people wanting to sway you from your decisions. Keep focusing on your bag and carrying yourself with grace. Maybe you will make some mistakes but maybe they will be make for awesome memories! For some of you, marriage or long term partnership could be on the mind heavily.

(three wanted to come out so I rolled with it).

Pile 3: Muppet Bear Tarot

Off the Bat: I felt really chill starting this pile. I took a little break, had a laugh then came back to it. So maybe you are a little checked out and just going with your flow. The last few years may have been rough and all you want is quiet. As long as you are balancing your priorities, keep moseying down the lazy river of life ☮

Also, if you have been considering getting your first tarot deck...

🔆this is your sign🔆

There are plenty of budget and beginner friendly decks. Do some research then choose what you feel drawn to. Caution: Don't get too sucked into doing readings. I think many of us had that phase 😅

4 Card Spread: 8 of Wands, 5 of Cups, Queen of Pentacles, and Strength (R). Bottom of the deck is the World.

Again, I am getting the feeling that you are more focused on your day to day. You make sure your "home is in order," then you go off to your happy place. If this is not what you are doing, maybe this is encouragement to start. You could be mourning a loss, whether it is a person or a relationship. Or you could be feeling down for another reason. Its okay to do what you need to feel better. Maybe its a quiet night in with a cozy atmosphere or a solo trip.

In some way, releasing control will help propel you forward.

Some of you may be in a long-distance relationship and finally getting the chance to be together. For others, as you focus on healing yourself, you will naturally meet a love interest. Or an existing connection could unexpectedly develop into something romantic. I feel this person being emotionally safe for you. You are entering a new chapter in your life without even realizing it.

You may receive a message that you have been waiting on. Could be a DM, text, email, or even physical mail. Someone may have been sitting on it for awhile. I am not necessarily getting malice behind this delay even though it may be annoying.

There's definitely a chance for a fresh start. It could start slow but I have a feeling you won't mind that. This fresh start could somehow be related to you coming out victorious in a situation or just being "chosen."

Some of you may have family going to combat or returning from combat. I'm definitely getting a military undertone. This could be a young male that wants to make everyone proud. I think whoever that message resonates with will get it. For others, there could be a male who you would like to see do well.

TL;DR: Focusing on healing is the right thing to do. You have been through a lot so its okay to create your own safe space to reside in. Your blessings won't miss you. Even as you focus on yourself, good events and people will still find their way to you. Trust that the whatever high power(s) you believe in have got your back. You could experience rejuvenation in your romantic life. Also, a delayed message is coming through. Welcome to the next chapter of your life :). You deserve all the good karma headed your way this year. 🥰

Hope you loved your readings. May we all have a wonderful start to our 2024s 🥂🎇

~K

[yuri-is-online]

Damn I'm really like the storyline of this game.But FUCK Leo,if I ever get a chance to smacked the shit out of him, please Chancellor one chance.He fucked with the Mc head, how Alan and Thoma didn't kick him out that car if beyond me, there better than me honestly.Sho isn't much better because he's going along just because he's isn't mean.

Just because there isn't cruelty that doesn't mean kindness.But he's the lesser evil.Makes me sad for Alan.

Let's talk about Lucas I wonder if the soul system is like JJK,like if your twins you share the same soul and that's why the demon took his brother.

Also which character did you pick for your first

-🤡

I picked Thoma first, but I didn't take screenshots of the opening. Probably gonna use my emulator to take a crack at screencapping all of the boys intros because I am insane and want to pick it apart for lore research.

Twins sharing the same soul/being seen as the same person is very common in Japanese folklore if I understand correctly? But that might just be me overthinking the plot of Fatal Frame II: Crimson Butterfly. So yes that's my assumption too, the demon likely took Luca's brother in his place since they technically share a soul.

Now. Let's talk about Leo. The main reason Alan and Thoma didn't immediately kick him out of the car was to not make a scene. Thoma specifically seems to respect the opportunistic sort, and thinks that Leo shows promise if he shapes up. He's skilled with tech, good at reading people, quick on his feet, all of those things are arguably good traits that Vagastrom, and Alan, could really use! Besides it's not like he has enough on either of them to get in their way yet, best to play it cool and walk away with the upper hand. Another thing we learn from this conversation that might be easy to miss is that unlike Twisted Wonderland where each dorm has rules about who should be the leader, Darwick's Administration picks the Captain and Vice Captain of the dorm, and grades seem to be more important to them than say. Whether or not the person has a good character, as we have seen from both Thoma and Leo, is significantly less important.

But if there is one thing I sort of have to point out that I think Alan gets and tries to call him out on, Leo is incredibly short sighted. He sees MC's power as worthless not because it doesn't work but because he already used it and got what he wants from it. He doesn't see anyone other than himself, and maybe Sho, as a person so he doesn't feel any guilt about using MC to get what he wants and then trying to get her kicked out of the school. He's also the only bitch in this house that completely ignores that MC can't leave, he doesn't mention her curse once when talking about her and honestly I don't think he was paying attention enough to remember that she can't leave because of that. Allan makes a point at the end of the Vagastrom book that I really hope is followed up on:

I sort of read this as applying to his friendship with Sho and his own reputation. Sure, it's all fun and games now while he snatches up the Vice Captain role and still has Sho doing his bidding, but well. Sho does occasionally do what he wants, he didn't go along with Leo's plan, not completely. He didn't outright lie about MC's power, and he hates how Leo keeps asking about why the ghouls made their wish on a demon. He thinks it's wrong, he hates it. Leo's treatment of MC did bother him, and I know he doesn't want MC to die. I don't know how far you or anyone else has made it, but something happens in Book 3 that makes it seem like MC has gone missing, and according to Hyde all of the Frostheim, "and one or two" of the Vagastrom ghouls have to be talked out of going to look for her.

As of right now Leo's only real ally is Sho. If Sho gets fed up with him and stops covering his ass, then Leo has no one, and I don't think that's occurred to him since according to Sho's bio they've been friends since long before Darkwick. Anyway I hope they get divorced and Sho gets to keep his food truck. Like I said, we can run Leo over with it for the insurance money.

Have some Side Notes:

The ring of Solomon, or the ring of wisdom, granted Solomon the power to make demons do his bidding in the original myth. Since ghouls powers come from demons, in some way, shape, or form, my theory is that the ring is likely enhancing the demonic part of them.

The "like doves" supposedly appear when someone is thinking of you positively/likes you. The first people to make these doves appear around MC are Luka and Kaito. The second is Sho, which is honestly why I am a bit softer on him then I should be. The third time it shows up is at the end of Jabberwock's book with all three dorm members present, meaning literally the only bitch in this house who does not respect MC is fucking Leo that dick-

while it isn't specified, Professor Dante appears to be the advisor for both Frostheim and Vagastrom, something I think is more or less confirmed by Hyde being in charge of both Jabberwock and Sinostra. Anyway the point I want to make is that we are missing a dorm if we follow the rule of each advisor being in charge of two, and no I don't mean the two missing characters from Obscuary I mean a whole dorm that seems to have specialized in exorcisms (perhaps of curses 👀):

My personal theory is that their dorm used to be in the Cathedral we are staying in and that it was destroyed during "the Clash" that's been alluded to in the first part of the story, we don't know much about it other than 1) it was between ghouls, perhaps exclusively 2) there is a spy of some sort Thoma and Alan are looking for that might have had something to do with it and 3) a Frostheim student behaved very badly during the Clash to the point Thoma seems to think they should take some responsibility for it. But that's just my speculation, don't know how much of it's real.