#texas sun inspo

[from-the-clouds]

i just think that long-haired winter joel is something that can be so personal

[gl0ryg1rl]

Karma is a b!tch, well just make sure that b!tch is beautiful—

[wildemaven]

strangers : fog | dave york

pairing: dave york x f!reader word count: 5208 chapter warning's: 18+ blog: established relationship, workaholic Dave, soft Dave, miscommunication, Smut (slight exhibitionism, dry humping, orgasms, keeping kind of vague for the sake of not giving things away), implied/alluding to infidelity (there is none, reader just doesn’t know this), Dave’s phone makes an appearance- shocking, drinking alcohol, smoking cigarettes, conversations with bestie, reader is mentioned wearing lingerie and a bathing suit- but zero description features, no age given but it’s implied she’s at least over 30, no y/n, this is au- no Carol (at least not canon Carol) or kids, if I missed anything let me know notes: I kind of struggled with the end of this one. It felt very flat and blah, but thankfully @gnpwdrnwhiskey Is a gem and helped me, and it feels good now. So grateful for all of you who’ve been following along. Xoxo

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It’s sweet. 

But not the kind of sweet that aches and destroys your addiction. 

It’s perfect. Just enough. 

The kind of sweet that falls somewhere in the middle. Satiating that deep seeded craving that burns through your every fiber. 

Like a glass of ice cold tea under the Texas sun, sweetened to perfection. Each tantalizing drop coating your tongue, idly encompassing every single taste bud with refreshing pleasure. 

You're greedy. Reveling in your consumption. Take. Take. Take. Because it’s all you want and everything you’ve been needing. 

Finally.

You feel him everywhere. The weight of him is substantial, pressing you into the side of the pool. A secure grip onto the ledge, the swell of his biceps flexed as he does his best to keep you both suspended and unmoving from your secluded spot. 

He’s a blistering summer heatwave, one you’re fully hydrated and prepared for, but still stunned by its sultriness. 

“You think they’re watching us right? All of them so fucking jealous at how good I’m makin’ you feel.” You don’t bother to take a look when he says it, your head angled back and eyes closed as his lips work their way up your neck, your only concern at the moment. 

“Mmhmm— I honestly don’t care. Let them watch. Let them see how good you’re taking care of me— fuckbaby!” Your train of thought derailed when his hips jerk up with a little more eagerness than you expected. 

The cool water laps rhythmically against you both. The tiniest of splashes to your exposed skin as it surrounds your bodies, relieving the heat that’s burning through you. 

“Ahh!” You gasp at the sensation of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Nipping and pulling. The gentle glide of his tongue soothing over the pleasant sting. 

“Sorry—“ He manages to get out. “Didn’t mean to be so rough, but also been wantin’ this so fuckin’ bad.”

His lips seal over yours again, groaning where he can feel you grinding against him, discreetly hidden below the surface of the water. Your legs wrapped tightly around his narrow waist, holding him as close as possible. 

He’s unbelievably hard. Cock nudging against your aching core, the water aiding in the flow of your hips moving over him in search of relief. 

“I’m definitely not complaining in the slightest. If anything, I’m entirely enjoying the roughness— wouldn’t be opposed to more of it.” You say smiling against his swollen lips. 

Your words lure him back in, driven by a deeper sense of want forging beneath the water. Lashes fluttering shut as every bit of him consumes your senses. All tongues and teeth, tracing over every ridge and fleshy surface. A sweet delicate dance of unbridled emotions. 

It's a slow building, intensely breathtaking. Your body ignited by self-indulgent energy, so hell-bent on seeking out unrivaled satisfaction, but you don’t seem to care. Focused solely on how each and every nerve lights up because of him, desperately wanting a release. A natural response to the way he’s holding you, kissing you, his determination to bring you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Fuck— that feels so good!” Breathless and anchoring yourself to his warm body. 

“Yeah? You think you can come like this?” One of his hands settles on your hip, helping your unfaltering movements, hitting that ever so desirable spot just right. “There you go, gorgeous— just like that.”

“ohmygod!! I’m so close— don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.“ Your grip secure on his taut shoulders, unmoving even under the wet conditions. Your head falling onto his forehead, noses nudging, exchanging desperate wordless breaths. 

“I’ve got ya.” He whispers, nodding softly as your body writhes against him. “Come for me, Baby.”

“Oh fuck! oh fuck! oh fuck— I’m coming!” Everything dissolves into pleasure. Tense and blissed out as your cunt contracts around nothing. 

“Open your eyes, Baby. Let me see you come undone.”

You pull back just enough to see him. He’s beautiful, framed in a hazy white vignette. His patchy beard is both rough and soft beneath your fingertips, tracing over every little detail of him while you still can. His rich brown eyes now a golden hue as the light hits them from the reflection of the water.  

“Fuck— Joel!”

You’re floating. Further and further away. Every detail of him slowly dissolving into nothingness. 

Your body jolts awake, Oh god, That felt so fucking real. Quickly sitting up, your hand to your chest feeling where your heart is frantically pounding. 

The dry air from the vent billows out from above you, cooling as it skims over your tacky skin. 

The remnants of last night's headache still remain. Though it wanes in intensity, the throbbing pain continues. Rubbing at your temples, the added pressure doing absolutely nothing. 

There’s a faint familiar ache that catches your attention from below the sheets, prompting you to throw them off, finding a pillow still tucked tightly between your legs. The experimental squeeze of your thighs around the pillow sends a fresh ripple of pleasure from your fading orgasm, causing you to inhale sharply. Your palms clamping over your mouth, breath more constricted than the last as a strong feeling of shame begins to surge through your veins. 

The hotel room feels paralyzing, especially with Dave sleeping beside you. 

The beach. 

Needing some fresh air and some time to collect your irrational thoughts, away from this confined space where everything seems to be closing in on you. Hastily, you manage to pull on some warm clothes and sandals while throwing your wallet and phone in your purse without waking Dave.

You know the minute he wakes up to find you gone he’ll panic. It will take only minutes to have all his agent buddies pulling maps and running background checks on anyone who lives within a mile radius of the hotel. You’re already annoyed with his distant behavior, you don’t have it in you to deal with the added disgruntlement that will ensue. 

Grabbing for the monogrammed hotel stationary, you scratch out a note to leave on this nightstand for him to find when he does wake. 

Good Morning, Babe Couldn’t sleep. Went for a walk down to the beach. I have my phone. Will be back in a bit.  Love you Xoxo

You two his phone screen, noting the time at the bottom— 8:00 am —a little tactic Dave had ingrained in you for matters as such, giving a starting point in the case anything were to happen to you, taking the guessing game of when out of the equation. 

A New Message glows on the screen, came in sometime last night after you both got back from dinner, he must have fallen asleep before seeing it. 

Double checking, you peek over the mound of blankets that is Dave’s solid body— still sleeping. The side of his face buried into his pillow and his plush lips parted. No worry lines etched across his forehead. No tension pulling at his jawline. His perfectly groomed hair, all disheveled and twisted in all directions. 

Your heart blooms at how handsome he is, his truest self on full display. A running joke between you, how others would be disappointed to find out his grumpy exterior is all a show, only reserving his softer side and big heart for you. 

Refocusing back to his phone, you tap the message to preview it— a message from his mom. 

Mom: Did she find out? Call me when you can, we’ll talk about it then. 

Did she find out? Find out what?

*

The beach isn’t far from the hotel. Grateful for only a few hellos and forced smiles exchanged on the shared path on the short walk.

The air is crisp the closer you get to the water, a light breeze blows over the shoreline bringing tiny bits of sand crystals through the air. You can feel the salt already crystallizing against your cheeks. 

The lingering fog adds a bit of gloom to the atmosphere as you look out over the horizon in front of you. The white caps of the waves slowly roll over into the next, pushing their way through until they’ve reached the shore. The water fanning out as it moves, blanketing over the sand as it reaches where feet are planted firmly, now surrounded by the frigid sea water. Then it slowly slinks back out, leaving you numb as you wait for it to return. 

Good Morning! Are you busy?  No. Are you okay? Yeah, I’m fine. I just need someone to talk to.  One sec!

It takes a few flicks of the small metal dial for the flame to ignite, cupping your hand around to shelter it from the light wind threatening to squash your attempt at some sort of relief. 

It’s instant when it hits the back of your mouth, swirling and stinging about as it creeps up the back of your throat. That burn is all too familiar, no longer a regular occurrence, but definitely not forgotten. It takes the edge off momentarily, it always does. You imagine blowing out all your pent up anger as your release the smoke into the oceanic air. 

The cigarette sits between your fingers with ease, secure against those first knuckles as you bring it back to your lips for another desperate pull. That dedicated drag of your favorite menthol smokes had once been a regular part of your daily life in your college days. Getting you through long days of studying and working late hours, barely keeping your head above the water. Pack after pack. Light, smoke, tension gone, repeat. 

Eventually it was downgraded to a social practice before finally kicking the habit all together. Something Dave never pushed for, but was proud of you nonetheless. 

Your phone screen illuminates and buzzes simultaneously, a picture of Jacey double fisting some beers at last year's Fourth of July party pops up. The image alone already makes you feel better. 

“Mmm… Hello?” You can tell she just woke up by the way she garbles her words into the phone. 

“Hey, Jacey. I didn’t wake you did I?”

“Mhmm— Kind of but it’s okay— had a bit of a late night, but it’s fine. How are things going?”

“Fine. Good. Things are good.” Trying hard to keep your voice even without giving away too much— but she knows you too well. 

“I’m calling bullshit. You’re seriously the worst liar ever. Spill.” 

“Ugh. Where do I even start?” You tell her, audibly groaning into the brisk pacific air. 

“I’ve got some time.” 

Jacey has always been this way. Available whenever you’ve needed her, at a moment's notice. Connecting with her in college, your friendship has been a steady source of support and encouragement through the years. She stood by you when you married Dave— having her now makes you feel less alone. 

“Well, if it’s not one thing it’s another. There were some high hopes for sex when we got in the other night,  then he passed out— which is fine ‘cause traveling and what not. But I got in my head, questioning shit about myself and our relationship. Like maybe it’s me or something. He did try to initiate the next morning but I just kind of wasn’t feeling it— so we didn’t. Plus he had phone calls he needed to make so he wasn’t worrying about them the rest of our time here.”

“Hey, it’s not you at all. Don’t ever think that. You’re a catch— Dave knows that too.” She says, her reassurance firm but delivered sincerely. 

“Thank you. I mean, we kind of fooled around at the pool yesterday.”

“Ooooh!! I love this for you.”

“Well, then he ran off right before I— you know.”

“Fucking men, I swear.”

“Only to find him on the phone when he said he wouldn’t be. Then he was all jealous over this stranger I was talking to. We got back to the room, things seemed a little tense— we still went to dinner. Don’t really remember much after that, because I kept ordering dirty martinis at dinner.”

After hearing the beginning of his phone call, the shower didn’t do much to help. You didn’t want to make a scene, deciding to just leave the hurt bubbling inside of you back in the room and make the best of the rest of the night. 

Dave seemed pretty much his normal self going into dinner. Conversation was lighter than it was earlier in the room. You both caught up on things that you hadn’t really talked about in a while— details about his latest assignments (within reason), your own latest work projects, random tidbits about things —things felt normal.

There was a slight shift in the evening, when he was checking his phone more often than usual. Glancing at the screen between bites of his steak then trying to figure out where you left off in the conversation. 

You hadn’t even planned on drinking, but the chilled cocktail in front of Dave had been taunting you, begging to help obliterate your lingering thoughts. Then it was I’ll have another, Maybe one more, Suuuuure another sounds grreat. The dim restaurant turned into hazy fractures of light. The steady buzz of alcohol had you feel giggling and sleepy, slumping back into the velvet cushion of the intimate booth. Dave cut you off before things turned into a wild evening, shifting from your introverted self into a very lively and friendly drunk. 

You don’t even remember getting back to the room, just brief glimpses of Dave undressing you and helping you into one of his shirts, then tucking you into bed. 

“Hold up. Rewind— you fucking hate martinis! What the hell happened?!” She knows you so well. 

“Jacey, you’re my best friend. Someone who will be straight with me no matter what. I think— Do you think Dave is cheating on me?” You ask meekly, inhaling another minty pull from your nearly finished cigarette. 

“What?! Babe, why would you think Dave is cheating on you? Did something happen?”

““No— I mean yes. I think so. Fuck! I don't know what to think. We got back to the room after the pool yesterday, talked for a little bit then I went to get ready for dinner. I guess he thought I closed the door or something but I could hear him talking to someone—“ You try to keep your voice steady, finding it hard to blink the tears away as the wind whips around you. 

“Okay. Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s cheating on you. It could have just been more work shit he said he wasn’t going to do. Maybe he figured he could squeeze it in before dinner— not wanting to upset you.” Jacey is all about layout the facts and details before jumping down dark rabbit holes. 

“Ashley— Her name is Ashley. I heard him say her name.” 

There’s a beat of silence on the line before you hear her sigh. 

“Oh— what else did you hear?” She says, sounding a little more somber than before. 

“Nothing. My brain kind of went blank after that and I just got ready for dinner like I didn’t hear anything. Hence the abundance of martinis I drank my way through. Which also explains the slight headache I woke up with this morning.”

“Okay. So whoever he was talking to—“

“Ashley.” Details Jacey. 

“Right, Ashley. We don’t really know much, aside from that. So it could be anyone. Could be work related— Ashley could be a last name too. You know how they always do that last name first thing for whatever reason.” Somehow she always finds a way to get you to back away from the cliff, especially when your feet are over the edge. 

“Yeah, probably.” You say softly in agreement. A flock of birds catching your attention, their wings moving in unison as they fly overhead. 

“Look, like you said before— I’m gonna be straight with you. I don’t think Dave is cheating or would ever cheat. That man loves you. Sure, he’s kind of been a little too invested in work, which is affecting things with you. I don’t think there’s someone else. I promise. But I do think you both need to talk instead of this weird dance you both are doing, that way you’re both on the same page.”

“Okay. Yeah— you’re right. Thank you, Jace. Last thing— Does it make me a bad person if I had a dream about another man last night?” You ask, feeling a bit embarrassed as you voice it out loud. 

“I have those all the time— especially with that cute actor from that narcos show we love. Dreams don’t equate to real life.” She only slightly laughs at your confession. 

“What if it was with a guy I met at the pool who’s staying in the hotel, who listened to me spill my life away about how I’m not sure if my husband wants kids or not now— and how marriage feels like a mess.” 

“Oh! Pool guy was cute— No, I don’t think that makes you a bad person. Your thoughts are just all over the place right now. It was a dream. You’re fine. Hey, I hate to bail on you— but I’m umm, getting another call. We will chat soon, then you can give me more details about the cute pool guy. Love you!”

“Love you too, Jace. Talk soon. Bye.”

The call clicks out. Waves crashing onto the shore brings you back to the beach. Your cheeks cold and feet stinging as the water recedes again. 

It's nearing 10 am now, deciding to head back before Dave does in fact worry that you’ve been gone for too long. You snuff out the smoldering cigarette in the wet sand and stick it in your bag to dispose of later. The added nicotine now mingles poorly with your lingering hangover, body in desperate need of water and a strong pain reliever. 

On your way back to the hotel, you take every bit of what Jacey said and truly let it sink in, even as hard as it is to not let your mind wander into dark territory. She’s right though, it doesn’t do you any good to dwell on situational events if you have zero proof of anything. That doesn’t mean that you’ve written off your uneasiness completely, just simply tucking it away for the time being. 

The sweet bellmen welcomes you back with a friendly smile and a wave as he holds the door open for your return. The lobby now bustles with more guests than earlier. Some checking in for their stay, others enjoying the picturesque ambience of the hotel. 

In the time that it takes to get up to your room, you’ve run through several different scenarios in your head. All feeling immensely overwhelming at the thought of talking with Dave about how you’ve been feeling since he hasn’t seemed to pick up on the subtle inklings that there’s been a definite shift in your relationship the past few months. You’re not really sure you even want to have the conversation now, let alone here— not wanting to ruin the rest of the vacation in the chance things don’t go as smoothly as you want. You ultimately decide to wait, once you’ve settled back in at home, finally address everything with him.

You can hear Dave’s voice muffled outside the door of your room as you search for your key card in your bag, sounding as if he’s talking to someone on the phone. 

The room is bright as you enter, the curtains pulled open allowing the sun to shine through the large windows. The bed is somewhat made with the pillows stacked neatly and sheets straightened in an orderly Dave manner. 

Food had already been ordered and delivered, set out on the small table on the balcony. Your favorite breakfast of eggs benedict and toast along with a fresh pot of coffee. Dave’s usual eggs and bacon sit untouched, waiting for your return to enjoy breakfast together. 

Dave’s standing in front of the window, looking out at the scenery with his phone to his ear, but the sound of you entering the room has him turning towards you. 

His hair is freshly washed, combed up and out of his face. Wearing his favorite blue jeans snug around his hips, a white patterned shirt just barely buttoned to reveal enough of his slightly burnt chest to make your mouth water. It’s his beaming smile, arguably his best accessory, that makes your chest flutter, drawing you in closer to where he’s standing. 

“It’s my mother.” He whispers, covering the phone with his hand as she continues to talk into his ear. 

Did she find out? Call me when you can, we’ll talk about it then. Still wondering what her vague text message meant. 

“Yeah, Mom. She just walked through the door.” You hear her mention your name through the speaker. “My mom says hi.”

“Hi, Carol.” You say sweetly, kissing Dave’s cheek before turning to place your bag on the ground near the dresser, leaning back on the wall, watching Dave as he finishes the rest of the conversation. 

“Okay, sounds good…Tell dad hello for us and we’ll talk to you later… Love you, too… bye.” The screen of his phone goes black and he tosses it over to the bed. 

Grabbing a glass and some small pills resting on the dresser, closing the short distance to where you’re standing and holding the water and pain reliever out to you.

“I figured your head is probably killing you this morning.” Dave says smiling at you, no sign of annoyance in his face. 

“Thanks— Sorry about last night. I don’t know what got into me.” Tossing back the pills back, gulping the water down quickly, your focus on the remaining drops of water sliding down the side of the glass, pooling together at the bottom. 

Dave takes the glass from you, setting it over on the top of the dresser. One of his hands settles on your hip as the other tilts your chin up so your gaze is now directed at him. 

“Did you have a good walk?” Dave asks. One of his warm hands now cupping the side of your neck, surely he can feel the way your pulse is quickening, elevated just by a simple touch from him. 

“Yeah. It was nice— foggy, but beautiful. We should go again before we leave.” Your hands migrate to his shirt, fingers absentmindedly toying with the top abandoned buttons and soft silky fabric.

“Umm— I can smell the smoke on you. It’s fine, I don’t mind that you were— but is everything okay?” He knows, senses something is off, because he knows you don’t just smoke to smoke these days. Senses there’s something that triggered your need for your old vice, something to dull out whatever is silently bothering you. 

Yet somehow you have almost forgotten about the cigarette until now when he asks. Feeling a bit of shame for the second time again this morning, though you don’t pick up on any sort of judgment when he does ask about it. 

“Everything is fine. Just sounded good so I bought them on my way to the beach— don’t think I’ll even finish the pack though. I’m good.” Liar. You hate the way Dave winces at your answer. He knows there’s something simmering below the surface, but he doesn’t push for more. 

“Okay— okay. There’s breakfast here and I was thinking afterwards we could go to some shops or something. I made reservations for tonight at 6, I thought you might want to find something new to wear. Maybe we can grab some lunch near the beach too.” He tells you, brushing off the small specks of sand cemented to your face. 

You find yourself on the brink of tears, swallowing the little lump that started to form in your throat. Certain the next few days would be filled with worriment and noiseless vexation. There’s almost relief in hearing how he’s planned out the day, something he hasn’t done in months. Work and meetings always at the forefront of his planning lately, leaving little to no time for dinners or regular weekend getaways. 

“Or we can stay in if you want.” His head tilts a little, brown eyes scanning over every detail of your face as you mull over his plans a little longer than he expected. 

“No, that sounds nice. I brought some dresses that I can wear though, we don’t have to buy anything.” You shake your head in response. Pushing a few loose strands that had fallen out of place, his eyes closing at the sensation of your fingers combing through his hair. 

“We can just look, and if you find something you like we can get it.” Dave suggests— a nice middle ground. 

He leans in, his nose knocking against yours, humming as you continue to play with his hair. 

“Okay.” You breathe out, his intense eye contact starting to ignite something within you. 

“You’re sure everything’s okay?” Offering you another opportunity to bare it all out for him. 

His lips graze over yours when he asks, just enough to have you wanting more. 

“Yeah. Everything is fine— promise.” 

“Alright. Let’s get some food in you and then we can get ready to head out. And there’s coffee—” His thought abandoned, his lips crashing into yours in a passionate kiss. 

You eagerly respond, wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses you further into the wall. Your head swirling with want, thrilled at the fact that he’s so keen to give you exactly what you’ve been craving. The scent of his cologne mixed with the musky smell of him fills your senses, making you weak for him even more.

His tongue explores your mouth, tangled together in a heated dance as your bodies grind against each other, arousal growing with each passing moment. 

His hands roam freely over your body, stopping at your hips to pull you in even closer has you gasping into his mouth.  

“Fuck— Dave!”

“Yeah— that feel good, Baby?” Dave’s hard almost instantly, pressing against you as you slowly grind on him. You're scorching from the friction of your bodies, the coil already winding in your lower abdomen, shivers tingling up your spine.

“Yes!! Oh god, yes!! So good, Dave!” You cry out. The heat between you unbearable, the need for release is all consuming—- more more more. 

Dave’s lips fuse to yours again, dragging one hand down between your bodies. He slips under the waistband of your leggings, deft fingers finding the damp fabric of your panties, a sticky mess because of him. He’s enlivened by the way your body writhes as a result of his touch. Fingers circling over your clit in a deliberate frenzied manner, causing you to release a breathy moan into his mouth.

“You think you can come right here? I’m not gonna last much longer.” He says breaking the kiss. His eyes are filled with a burning desire as he looks at you. You nod, encouraging him to continue his ministrations, before he’s capturing your lips again. 

You whine at the loss of his fingers moving over your aching bundle of nerves, your body in dire need of his touch now that he’s giving you all of it. 

Dave’s hands slip under your top, fingers trailing over your pebbled skin as he pulls it up and over your head. You help him, tossing it aside, leaving you in only your lace bra and bottoms as you lean back against the coolness of the wall, chest heaving with need.

“More— pl-please, I’m almost there. ohfuckyesyesyes!.” His hands explore your body, memorizing every curve and dip with a new surge of want and urgency, his fingers trailing down your back to grip your ass and pulling you closer— sparks of pleasure blazing through you nearing a fiery release. 

‘I know baby, I’ve got you’ murmured against your neck, his words riddled with assurance as he sucks on the sensitive skin there. 

Your hands grip his shoulders as he continues to explore you with his mouth, caressing every inch of you as he makes his way down to your chest, pulling the fabric of your bra down, his fingers gliding over the tight skin. He cups the weight of your breast in his hand, taking one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, teeth gently nipping as you moan louder and louder, while his other hand fondles and twists at your other side. 

“Oh fuck! Baby, I’m gonna come—“ You gasp, arching your back, your nails digging into Dave’s shoulders has him clamping down harder on your overly sensitive nipple. The pleasing painful sting shoots straight to your core, your velvet walls pulsating, your climax within reach.

A pleasurable ache builds for the second time this morning, except this time it’s because of Dave. All your pent up emotions forging together, building into the most magnificent wave of arousal you’ve felt in a long time. 

You pull his face up to meet yours, lips messily crashing against his in another bliss driven kiss. His hard cock straining behind the tightness of his jeans, tilting your cunt at the perfect angle while hoping Dave is reaping the benefits of your euphoric pursuit as you grind down on the rough seam of his denim that helps careen you over the edge. 

It’s like a dream— except it's not, it’s better. Real and satiating. Your orgasm is forceful as it rips through you, taking every bit of residual tension along with it. 

Dave’s movements become faster and more charged. His hips moving in a stuttering pattern— fuckfuckfuck —then stilling as a deep groan barrels through his chest. You wrap a leg around him as he collapses into you, his face nestled in the crook of your neck, holding him tightly to your body. 

A breeze blows through the open balcony door, diffusing the layer of sexual haze wafting through the room. The air is welcoming, enveloping your bodies in the crispness that comes with being in close proximity to the Pacific. 

It feels lighter. Less suffocating— even with the weight of your husband holding you against the wall. The low lying fog no longer a dense cloud looming over you, allowing the brightness to fully shine through. 

The turbulent thoughts have settled, replaced with a mildness that seems more manageable for the time being. Your headache becomes a subsiding dullness, overpowered by the replenishment of a compelling desire. 

“Shit— I came in my fucking pants like a goddamn teenager. Couldn’t even make it to the bed.” He says, post sexual vibrato etched into his voice, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone as he lifts himself up to his full height. 

Dave’s skin is glowing, a sheen of sweat glistening in the morning light. His cheeks flushed with a tinge of pink, the muscles in his neck flexing as he worked to control his breathing. The silkiness of his shirt now damp and stuck to his chest. 

“Hmm. I feel too good to even care. You have no idea how bad I needed that.” You smile at him, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, brushing a few fallen strands of hair away from his face. 

The corner of his eyes crinkle. He’s beaming, infatuated with you as he leans in, resting his forehead on yours and whispers, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?.” 

“Love you too, Dave.”

[mistydeyes]

hi again! I was wondering if you could possibly do a Task force 141 with a reader that has been through a final girl/boy situation before they joined the military? I was thinking something like a Sidney from scream situation almost.

(I do apologize if your requests are closed, have a good night/day!)

thank you for submitting! i love horror movies (even when they have the final girl trope) so I took inspo from the campy stories! hope you enjoy :)

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summary: When Laswell recommended you to Price to join the 141, you readily took the invitation and left the US Army. However, when you return back to the states someone recognizes you as the surviving victim of a series of murders and you have to answer for your past.

pairing: Task Force 141 x gn!Reader (codename: Onyx)

warnings: swearing, violence/blood/gore, non-major character death

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Before the summer of '08, you used to love horror movies. With your friends, you would have marathons of Halloween, Scream, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Friday the 13th, and other campy classics. You would drink and laugh at the screen as the characters slowly got picked off one by one, leaving one character standing. "God it's always the final girl," you remarked as you watched the generally brunette, book-smart teen walk away before the credits rolled. It used to be just another movie trope. But there are some things the gym and therapy can't fix. After that year, you always walked on the lit side of the street and triple-locked your doors every night.

"Onyx, we're here," Ghost boomed and you woke from your slumber. Your eyes adjusted to the morning sun of Colorado. "Air Force sent us a welcome party to escort us to base," Price commented, getting off the plane. Never would you have thought a mission would bring you back to the States. Despite being teased relentlessly for your lack of accent and inability to relate to growing up in the UK, you relished the thought of being thousands of miles away. "Onyx, you alright?" Soap asked as you piled into a large vehicle. "Yeah, just jet-lagged," you lied through your teeth. "Welcome back to the US," one of the Air Force privates commented and you couldn't help but frown. "Let's just finish this up for Laswell and head back to rainy London."

After a tour and briefing, you decided to head into town to get some dinner. Soap had made a big deal of wanting to try American food and you landed on a popular diner. The meal was alright as you scarfed down a burger and milkshake. You tried to join in the conversation as Gaz wondered if he should try the fried Oreos or get a classic American apple pie. Price and Ghost rolled their eyes, finishing their meal, while Soap tried to help his decision. You pinched your thigh as your scarred hands fell onto your lap. Just another mission, you told yourself, just another mission in another country. When your meal was paid, you walked back to the car casually. You were arguing over who was going to drive when a man did a double take upon locking eyes with you.

"I-I know you," the man yelled as everyone turned in his direction. At first, you hoped he was a mistaken pot head but your stomach dropped when he met your darting gaze. He paced up to you as you looked in fear. "You're that teen, the only one left alive," he continued, now getting closer to your face. "I don't know who you're talking about," you said roughly and attempted to walk away but he grabbed your wrist. "It is you, you were all over the news," his voice was now increasing in volume and people began to look over. "Get off of me!" you commanded but he continued to bombard you with questions. Eventually, as he held his grip, he was roughly pushed back by Gaz. "The fuck man!" he yelled, attempting to throw a punch but was quickly pushed back by Ghost. "Let's go," Ghost demanded and you rushed away from the man as he continued to shout at you.

"What the fuck was that Onyx?" was the first question uttered by Price as you arrived back on the Air Force Base. "Guess the secret's out," you mumbled in response as you sat down at a table. "What didn't Laswell tell us?" he edged and you avoided his piercing gaze. "Alright, boys sit down," you commanded, "better to tell you sooner than later." They had a mix of emotions ranging from confused to frustrated but they took a seat around the table. You took a deep breath as you unearthed your past. "It was in '08 when I was 16," you began, "high on life, good grades, thinking about going to college for international politics." "Get to the point," Price ordered but you let out a sickly laugh. "Captain, I'm about to tell you how I survived my entire friend group being murdered, I'll get to the point when I do," you said sardonically. That shut everyone up.

"Anyways, as you know I was from a small town on the East Coast," they nodded in response, "There were 9 of us, all friends from elementary school. We would do everything together until-." You paused for a moment, trying to suppress the urge to run away. "It all started with Logan." You tried to put the details into the best of terms but decided to pull the bandage off early. "They found his body with 9 stab wounds and 'Limbo' printed on a paper in his neck wound," Price's eyes widened as you looked at the shocked faces surrounding you. "Next was Ashley and the same thing, 9 stabs and a paper with 'Lust'," you continued, the realization began to set in as Ghost awkwardly shifted in his seat. You looked down at your shaking hands before you kept going. "After Ashley, the town was put on a curfew and they labeled the killer as "Dante" since the crimes were following his poem," As you kept reciting the story, you began to unravel further. "I remember texting the rest of my friends being scared shitless, my parents lived in constant fear and kept our doors barred."

Before you could continue, Gaz interrupted. "You don't have to keep going if it's too much," he began to say. "Ye we get the picture," Soap added but you shook your head. "After that, there were four more murders over the next two months," you spoke, "Nick, Amanda, Elizabeth, and Tyler all with the same wounds, paper, and the promise of more to come." "Did the police or FBI do anything?" Ghost asked, now folding his arms on the table. You laughed cynically as you remembered the shit show. "God they tried, they canceled school and kept patrolling but everyone was found either in their homes or after the constant fucking funerals." Tears were beginning to prick your eyes as you got to the last two victims. "They eventually connected us together after Liz and I spent weeks trying to think of anyone who would do this," you were now crying and your voice shook as you choked out the words. "Anyways, it died down for three weeks and we thought it was over with," you trailed off, "but then they found Miranda in her bedroom."

Price put his hat on the table and pulled out a tissue for you. You rejected the offer and wiped furiously at your face. "She was my best friend, had some trouble with depression and attempted suicide in freshman year but she was a good person," you said, almost in a whisper. You remembered the earth-shattering news delivered by the authorities at your door and how you screamed into the midnight air. They refused to give a public burial as it was just another hotbed of victims. You never even got to see her before she was cremated. "I think this is enough," Gaz said, now looking at Price with an angry tone of voice. As both the men exchanged bitter looks, you slammed your hands down on the hard surface. "No, I said I would tell you the whole story and I am going to fucking do it."

"The 8th was supposed to be me," you mumbled as the room looked horrified. Your legs shook and you tried to steady your uneven breathing. "Tyler was a twin and Elle was his sister he left behind" Your voice grew more hoarse as you fought through the pain. "When Tyler died, Elle's parents were devastated and she stayed with my family for the rest of the Spring. She shared a room with me and I slept on a shitty air mattress." You remembered crawling into bed with her some nights, after long hours with the police, trying to reassure her they would find the killer and the nightmare would be over. "I think it was a Tuesday but I woke with Elle sitting on my stomach, She had this crazy look in her eyes," you looked down at your white knuckles that gripped the oak table, feeling the unwavering gaze of your team. "She-she told me how I was a fraud all these years for kissing her after some stupid party and never telling anyone about how we were soulmates. I thought this was some stupid lovers quarrel but she shut me up with a stab to the shoulder." You pulled back your shirt to reveal a silvery wound the size of a hunting knife on your left shoulder. You could hear the silence in the room as they looked at it.

"After that, I tried to scream but she told me she took care of my parents with some concoction of sleep meds and cough syrup," you closed your eyes tightly as you remembered trying to wrestle her off of you and her hands plunging the knife into your arms and upper chest. "How did you survive?" Soap asked, his voice sensitive and low. "I remember feeling immense pain when she stabbed me in the collarbone but she got the knife stuck," your body was on fire, almost as if the wounds were fresh, "so I took the opportunity to throw her off and pull out the knife." Even Ghost looked horrified as he knew what was going to happen next. "I stabbed her in the carotid and she bled out on the floor," you whispered. Your mouth felt metallic and you struggled to make eye contact with anyone as the room became blurry with a flood of tears. "After that, I try not to remember much but apparently she planned to kill all of us and then herself. Her notes lined up with things we did in the past and she was able to pick us off because we all trusted her," you unclenched your fists and lay your palms on the table as they shook violently.

"Fuckin hell," Ghost mumbled and you swallowed harshly. "I moved here away from the town after the media circus, joined the Army after all of it, and when the wounds healed," you concluded, pushing back on the table and getting up. "I'm sorry, Onyx," Price was the first to say and you nodded. "I'm alright now but it's hard when the past follows you," you whispered as you looked down at him. "We're here if you need," Gaz comforted and you felt your face fall into a frown. "Just don't tell anyone else, I don't need a fucking recruit telling me I'm like Sidney Prescott." Before you could leave the room, Price stood up and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. His fingers felt warm on your cold skin as you looked up at him. "No one fights alone," he said, almost as if it was some corny movie line. You let out your first relieved laugh of the night as his hand dropped. "Appreciate it, Captain," you whispered, "I hope to see her in hell."

[punkshort]

Remember the 10 likes and dislikes you did for sheriff!joel?, would you consider doing it for Pornstar!joel? <33

Ok YES I love this and it was such a great mental exercise for myself because as I was thinking about my answers I came up with a few ideas for future chapters so thank you very much for the inspo!

Let's dive in, shall we?

Likes:

1. The rain: he loves it when it rains. He's not sure why. Maybe it's the smell, maybe it's the sound, but he just loves it.

2. His family/mom: as we discovered in chapter two, Joel cares very much for Mama Miller. Both he and Tommy are mama's boys, through and through, and even if he brushes off her advice at the time, he definitely takes it to heart.

3. Weddings: he may not be a marriage guy himself, but he loves going to weddings. He loves a good party and just simply loves love. It makes him happy to see other people happy.

4. Pool: he's gotten pretty good at it over the years, especially since Tommy became a bartender. He's been hanging out and all sorts of bars, waiting for his brother to get off work, and he's gotten a taste for pool. He's even won a few bucks off some drunks when they try to test his skill.

5. Sundresses: at the end of the day, Joel is still a man. And if he sees a pretty girl in a sundress, he's going to look twice. He can't help himself. Something about the ease of access and the air of innocence really gets him going.

6. Board games: Joel is competitive. Blame it on Tommy, but he loves a good board game and he really really loves to win. Doesn't matter what it is, Monopoly or Candy Land, he will give it his all and he will get super pissed off if he loses.

7. Sleeping in: Alright, he usually works late hours sometimes and he likes to sleep in. There's nothing like waking up naturally, letting the sun seep through his curtains and slowly rouse him from his slumber, and even better if he has a warm body next to him in bed.

8. Driving: He loves driving. He's not really into cars, per se, but he likes the act of driving. The open road, windows down, radio up... perfection.

9. Breakfast: He might like to sleep in but he will eat breakfast any hour of the day. Pancakes and bacon are his weakness.

10. Classic rock: Anything from the 70s will make him happy. He knows just about every hit and every band. Doesn't really care too much about current music, his radio is always tuned to classic rock.

Dislikes:

1. Leather sofas: Ok, the leather sticks to his skin and he doesn't like it. It gets hot in Texas and he hates the feeling of his skin unpeeling from a leather couch when he gets up. It's especially terrible when trying to hook up with a girl - the sound, the feel... it just kills the mood.

2. Snobs: People who think they're better than him or his friends/family can go to hell. He really dislikes snobby people, rich people, people who treat others differently, people who think their shit doesn't stink - can't stand it.

3. Drugs: Unfortunately in his line of work, he's seen a lot of his coworkers get sucked into drugs. He doesn't mind weed, but the harder stuff he can't stand. He's been in a handful of situations where it was obvious to him the girl he was working with got way too high before filming and it completely ruined the vibe for him. He doesn't like the idea of girls feeling like they need to get messed up to fuck him, but that's a whole other situation.

4. Cooking: He's terrible at it. He typically orders food in, gets something from work or heats something up from the freezer. If you're helping him, however, that changes things...

5. Sage: He can't stand the scent. It's too overpowering and it reminds him of his aunt's house when he was younger. A house that was most definitely not designed for children and more like a museum, where his mother would constantly scold him and Tommy, making sure they didn't touch anything breakable.

6. Olives: They are slimy and taste awful, and he will not be fielding any more questions on the matter.

7. Fake nails: He doesn't care if girls have their nails done professionally but the really really long, sharp ones freak him out. Especially when a scene partner has them and they are wrapped around his dick. He's always afraid one is going to accidentally stab him somewhere way too sensitive.

8. Blood: Joel gets woozy at the sight of blood. He doesn't know why, it's always been that way and Tommy has teased him about it for years.

9. Ties: Absolutely despises dressing up and wearing ties. It feels like someone's lightly choking him all day when he has to wear one. If he absolutely must, he always tries to make it as loose as possible without looking sloppy.

10. Golf: Because all my Joels hate golf. For no particular reason at all.

[moonriseoverkyoto]

That’s Where I’m from, Sweetheart

Synopsis So I’ve been tinkering with southern reader and everyone’s favorite Scot.

cw: none? Maybe one mention of blood, talk of strip poker, some playful but still threatening language (all is fair in love and war guys), just a teensy eeensy bit suggestive (if you don’t wanna see it, just scroll by it’s that easy.)

Pairing: southern(texas/Georgia fusion inspired)!medic!reader x John "Soap" MacTavish

Author’s note: literally doing this as a test but if nobody likes it I’ll still repost it. Anyways all inspo and motivation comes from @glossythor

©️moonriseoverkyoto 2023. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

- Southern Medic!reader didn’t learn their tricks traditionally from med school, no in fact they aced their classes and almost graduated top of class.

- So when you were specifically invited to join the 141 in the field, you can imagine the look you received when you pulled up the flight deck in your low rise jeans, and a cowboy hat sitting on

- You can also imagine the peak curiosity you were going to withstand for the next few months on the mission

“Soap won’t be the only one with a tough accent around here anymore.” Announced Price as you walked into the room with a big smile only to be greeted by hardened eyes scanning you for your weaknesses and possible ulterior motives.

“hello everybody, I’ll be y’all’s medic for this trip. Believe me I’ve already heard all the western jokes, the hillbilly, and the redneck bullshit so can it for me okay everyone?” You spoke to the room with a gleaming grin that hid your boiling anxiety.

As the day proceeded on there was a tension stuck between your shoulders especially when you got placed between ghost and soap for the flight

“So what part are you from darlin?”

“The part where Mama doesn’t let you come home until the sun goes down and where you’re more likely to get kicked by a horse then learn the alphabet. That’s where I’m from sweetheart”.

- You never grow used to the look you receive from others as the team grows close to you. Nor do you ever live down the jokes and the constant harassment from the team to “get a room” with soap once your accents kick into high gear and his gaelish comes out.

- “dinnae be in any rush darlin, our captain isn’t bleeding out any faster than usual. I would hate to clipe to the rest of the group that you get slower when I come around.” The Scottish flirted with a wink as he dragged Price in one rainy day to base camp.

- “and I’d hate to hogtie you to a mustang and magically push my Nana’s spurs into it’s hide so you can eat shit for all the shit you talk, sweetheart.”

- “aye love if you did that, I’d let you just for the moment I’d be under you, even if it makes me boggin eejit being tied to the horse.”

Price’s grunt as you sprayed the wound stopped you both and the man spoke to you both with his look of surprise between you both.

- Soap definitely pulls you everywhere by your belt loops when you’re not in scrubs. Like I’m talking you’ll be doing something and just feel a tug before you’re face to face with your favorite (you don’t have favorites right :)? )

- the absolute one time you played strip poker, you whipped everyone’s asses and they’ve been begging to know your tricks since. You even had your cowboy hat on still by the end

- Soap who secretly goes weak at the knees hearing you say sweetheart but he would never admit how whipped you have him

-Soap who talks Ghost’s EAR off about you so much so that Ghost could win a jeopardy game about you

- Soap, the man who confesses by… well I’ll save that for another time

-Soap definitely is shitting bricks nervous to meet your family and actually makes your dad shit bricks instead when he sees your hunk of a boyfriend.

-Everyone turning their comms off once you say sweetheart because they know you’re just talking to Soap

-Soap sending everyone a video of you hogtying a pig, and winning first place at a rodeo held in your hometown over holiday one year

- now they actually get a little nervous when you start stomping around in your infirmary/makeshift medic tent talking about hogtying whoever who misplaced your special medical needle gifted to you from your nana/papa/mama/whoever you find special in your life

authors note again: Anyways I’m just gonna yk slip on past here. Lmk if there’s anything that offends you or anything I should improve as I’m still super new to writing fanfiction (so much harder than literature analysis or film writing) I loved doing this and I hope I can do more!

My requests are open and I love writing these as a emotional release

[baronessvonglitter]

Five songs I've been obsessed with lately

List 5 songs you're obsessed with and then tag 10 people

a big thank you to @inept-the-magnificent for the tag! 💖

Music is my lifeblood and my favorites change often, but these specific songs have been on heavy rotation on my phone, in my car, etc... (in no specific order)

Texas Sun - Khruangbin, Leon Bridges This sounds like a desert highway leading to wherever you need it to go.. smooth, chill, and honestly gives me inspo when I need it for my Joel fics.

2. Maneater - Hall & Oates If you don't like at least one Hall & Oates song, go sit in the corner 😜 This has been giving me some inspo for a short series starring [redacted] one of the underappreciated Pedro boys. I ALWAYS sing along to this one.

3. Saturn - SZA ahhh, the song that perfectly describes my maladaptive daydreaming and escapism. Yes, SZA, I too 'hate this place'.

4. Paradise Circus - Massive Attack (Hope Sandoval on vocals) this song is just sexy, mysterious, it feels like an intro to a character who gets everything they want with just a bat of an eyelash or a beckoning (manicured) finger.

5. The Less I Know the Better - Tame Impala just because it reminds me of an interesting time in my life. Plus it's just so easy to sing along with. Plus minor keys are more fun. (enough 'pluses' Adri)

NPT (sorry if you've already been tagged!): @missladym1981 ~ @imdrinkingpedro ~ @harriedandharassed ~ @syd-djarin ~ @amyispxnk ~ @coolranchdavidian ~ @darling-stevie ~ @vickie5446 ~ @twilightblogss ~ @manuymesut

[bsaka7]

18 for the wrapped ficlets? este and absolutely anyone if u have the inspo for it 💕💕

Thank u!! 18 is Prophets on hold - Belle and sebastian... One of my fav songs that came out this year! I hope u don't mind esteban/mick...

"I'll call you Sunday," Mick had said as a goodbye, splitting ways at the airport after a vacation together, beautiful and sunny. It was Sunday evening in Switzerland, and Mick still had not called. His flight had gotten in to Texas okay, Mick texting a cowboy emoji that made Esteban smile each and every time. Mick wasn't much of a cowboy, but he was certainly more of one than the rest of them, regardless of how Daniel tried.

Esteban hadn't expected his friendship with Mick any more than he had predicted the shining of the stars. Like opening his eyes in the country on a dark night, suddenly there was light; Mick, laughing in the afternoon sun, Mick, mouth set in determination, Mick, sprawled golden in his dreams.

Esteban wasn't waiting for a call. He had made dinner and loaded the dishwasher and then scrolled through his phone absent-mindedly as he tried to decide what to watch on television. The last night in France, Mick had curled up next to Esteban on the couch in their AirBnB, head on Esteban's shoulder, and everything seemed like it fell a little more into focus. They knew the taste of each other's dreams, the sharp tang of disappointment. It wasn't long until everything else would fall into place, too.

Esteban paused his scroll of his Instagram, his phone ringing, Mick's photo popping up.

"Esti," Mick launched into a story as soon as Esteban picked up. Something swelled, a choir of angels, in his chest. "Let me tell you what has happened..."

[thelightsandtheroses]

For the fanfic asks: 1, 3, 13!

Hi Lucy :D Hope you’re having a good day so far!

1. Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

I am a big daydreamer so most of my ideas start that way and I sort of marinate them in the daydream and then start writing. For example, my Joel fic was something I played around with as a daydream from when the show started airing for months before I started writing. My new Javi fic has been in my head for about 3 months too. That said, my Dieter fic was almost like a 48 hour fever dream of writing where I had like five minutes of daydreaming before I started writing.

In original writing, I plot things out a little but probably daydream a bit less before starting to write.

3. Do you share your fic ideas, or do you keep them to yourself?

This is a good one. I’m really used to writing groups, workshopping and sharing ideas and getting feedback so I love that sense of writing community and it’s something I’ve really missed for a long time so coming into this space and fandom is so great for that.

I hadn’t been sharing my ideas with people much in this fandom as I came in quite late, but in the last few weeks I have been and I’ve loved that.

13. Do you listen to music while you write? If yes, what have you been listening to recently?

Yes, all of the time! Unless I’m writing on my tablet or something and am in the same room as others. However I am a big fan of playlists for each fic and setting out the whole mood via a playlist. Once I start working on a fic too, I’ll play the playlist everywhere - in the car, in the shower, wherever to keep the ideas flowing.

Some of the songs and artists on my recent writing playlists include:

Leon Bridges (I love this man in general but River, If It Feels Good, and Texas Sun feature a lot)

Banks - Crowded Places

Arctic Monkeys - the 3am album particularly

The Gaslight Anthem - a band I used to adore so much and listened to to death in the 2010s. I’m just starting to relisten to them again.

Dermot Kennedy

Semisonic - Secret Smile (new fic title and inspo)

The Civil Wars

Phoebe Bridgers

Taylor Swift

Thank you so much for sending these through - this was great fun!

[estfenrirswood]

aiysha kaliyah carver

Hey, isn’t that AIYSHA KALIYAH CARVER. I thought they went away for the summer? Did you hear they might be a WITCH? What I do know for certain is that they’re 29, and they’re FLAMBOYANT and NAIVE. They’re originally from HOUSTON, UNITED STATES, and have been in/been back to FENRIRS WOOD for 6 MONTHS living in SUNE’S HABOUR. I wonder if they still work at THISTLE & SAGE as THE OWNER. Best if they stay safe for now. AIYSHA CARVER has secretly been involved in the Mystery of THE EMPTY SPOTS as one of the THE TWISTED.

✕ ⸻ BASICS ⸻ FULL NAME: Aiysha Kaliyah Carver ⸻ NICKNAMES: Aya, Kali, ⸻ BIRTHDAY: April 17 1990 ⸻ ZODIAC: Aries Sun/Mercury, Scorpio Moon/Rising, Taurus Venus, Leo Mars ⸻ AGE: 34 years old ⸻ GENDER: cis female ⸻ PRONOUNS: she/her ⸻ SEXUAL & ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: bisexual & biromantic ⸻ SCARS / TATTOOS: tbd. ⸻ OCCUPATION: Owner of Thistle & Sage ⸻ SPECIES: Witch ⸻INSPO/SIMILARITIES: bonnie bennett ( the vampire diaries ), damon salvatore ( the vampire diaries ), oberyn martell ( game of thrones ), Tyrion lannister ( game of thrones ), gabrielle solis ( desparate housewives ), penelope garcia ( criminal minds ),

✕ ⸻ BIO to be updated more in the future

Aiysha Kaliyah Carver, known to many simply as Aiysha K, was born and raised in the vibrant city of Houston, Texas. From a young age, she exuded a magnetic energy that drew people in, a charisma reminiscent of the city's own spirit. Growing up in a community rich with culture and resilience, Aiysha was inspired by the stories of her ancestors, their strength, and their connection to the unseen forces that shaped their lives.

Raised by her mother & grandmother, Mama Zuri (grandmother) & Mama Jasmine, Aiysha learned the ways of the old traditions early on. Mama Zuri was a formidable woman, well-versed in the art of herbalism, divination, and the subtle magic that wove through everyday life. She taught Aiysha the importance of honoring one's roots and the power of intention in every action.

As Aiysha grew older, her fascination with magic and metaphysics deepened. She was a voracious reader, devouring texts on astrology, crystal healing, tarot and spellcraft. Inspired by her mother & grandmother, Aiysha carved out her own path in the world of witchcraft.

After graduating from university with a degree in botany and anthropology, Aiysha felt a calling to share her knowledge and gifts with others. She decided to open a metaphysical and witchcraft shop in the quaint town of Ferirs' Wood. The town itself seemed to embrace her presence, as if the spirits of the land welcomed her as their own.

Her shop, named "Thistle & Sage," became a haven for seekers of magic and spiritual guidance. It was adorned with shelves filled with jars of herbs, rows of spell candles in every hue, and crystals that shimmered with unseen energies. Aiysha offered not only potions and charms but also workshops on meditation, tarot readings, and the ancient rituals that connected her customers to the natural world.

In Ferirs' Wood, Aiysha found a different pace of life compared to bustling Houston. Surrounded by towering trees and the whispers of woodland creatures, she felt deeply attuned to the earth's rhythms. She spent her days tending to her garden, where she grew medicinal herbs under the guidance of Mama Zuri's teachings, and her nights under the starlit sky, practicing moonlit rituals that honored the cycles of nature.

Aiysha Kaliyah Carver, at 29 years old, embodies the essence of a modern witch rooted in tradition yet unafraid to embrace innovation. Her journey is one of empowerment, as she channels the spirit of her ancestors and the influence of her family to inspire those around her to harness their own magic and find strength in their uniqueness. In Thistle & Sage, Aiysha has created not just a shop but a sanctuary where the spirit of witchcraft thrives, offering solace and transformation to all who seek it.

✕ ⸻ WANTED CONNECTIONS

regulars at thistle & sage

neighbors

open to anything

✕ ⸻ HEADCANONS

Thistle & Sage: She sources a lot of thistle & sage's products from other local witches, farmers, etc.

Home Life: She lives with catalina flores & her twins in Sune Habour

Herbal Enthusiast: Aiysha has a deep fascination with herbalism and natural remedies, often experimenting with different herbs and plants to create potions and remedies for her friends and community.

Star-Gazer: She has a habit of spending late nights under the open sky, studying constellations and finding solace in the quiet beauty of the night.

Tea Connoisseur: Aiysha is passionate about tea and has an extensive collection of teas from around the world. She enjoys hosting tea ceremonies where she shares stories and folklore related to each tea's origin.

Bookworm: Aiysha is an avid reader, with a particular love for ancient texts and grimoires. Her personal library is filled with books on magic, mythology, and occult practices.

Artistic Flair: She has a talent for painting and often expresses her creativity through abstract art inspired by the natural world and mystical themes.

Animal Companion: Aiysha has a familiar—a sleek black cat named Salem—who is her constant companion and has an uncanny knack for sensing magical energies. She also has a black German Shephard named Loki.

Community Activist: She is actively involved in community events and initiatives, advocating for the rights and well-being of supernatural beings in Fenrir's Wood.

Fluent in Spellspeak: Aiysha is fluent in Spellspeak, an ancient language used for casting spells and communicating with magical beings, which she learned from her grandmother.

Collector of Crystals: She has a vast collection of crystals, each with its own unique properties and energies. She uses them for divination, healing rituals, and enhancing magical practices.

Moon Rituals: Aiysha is attuned to lunar cycles and regularly conducts moon rituals to harness lunar energies for empowerment and manifestation.

[house-of-slayterr]

Story Master List

DC Comics: 

Tik Tok's 

Cat Has A Kitten

Wrong Number 

Harley's Day

Ink Blot Meet Cute

Rorschach's Journal

Gotham: 

Magnolia Blossom: 

Y/N POV

Life On The Vine

Riddle Me This

About Molly Maddox

Mayoral Favor 

At The Gala

Jim's Wish

Party Aftermath

One Kid, Two Kid, Dead Kid, New Kid

A Riddle To Remember, A Night To Forget

In Too Deep

Blurred Lines

Court of Owls 

Wayne's The Name

Let The Games Begin

Mad Hatter

Ask and Thou Shall Be Roasted

Get Groovy With It

Very Special Talent 

Beheading 

Girls Night Out!

Spring Into Offspring

Euphoria in Dystopia 

Necromancer, oh Necromancer 

Home, Sweet Home

Text Chats: 

Wrong Number 

Gotham Newbie 

New In Town

Bagel

Marriage Proposal 

Family Vacay

Fanfic Harvey

Cat Called

Kids

Misc: 

The Youth Of Gotham 

Jerome's Eye

Interview With the Vampire: 

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[wildemaven]

fall apart, again : chapter one | joel miller

Pairing: Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x OFC!Genevieve

WC: 5k

Warnings: 18+ Blog; Heavy on the Angst, post-outbreak world, no specific age mentioned but reader is close in age to Joel, minor character death, Ellie and her smart mouth, leaving the rest to read at your own risk to not spoil things, reader has a name but there are zero references to her appearance/she’s a blank slate character, 2nd POV, this is way AU so can be read as Game Joel or TV Joel

A/N: I’ve been so excited and nervous for this series. I don’t have a timeline for posting with this one, just going to take my time with it. Big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for listening to me wrack my brain over this series and for being my second set of eyes!! Please go check out her new Dieter Series!!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Inspo Board

Next

Spring was slowly transitioning into the next season. 

Bright fragrant blooms wilting away into the dry soil from where they were born— a poetic reminder of the time. 

21 Summers. 

21 years of surviving. 

Enduring. 

Remembering—  the normal life before the outbreak that you mourn daily. 

A giant Bur Oak lends itself to you, branches providing ample shade as you sit resting against its sturdy trunk, the ground cool beneath where you sit. 

The harsh sunlight filters through the tree’s canopy, a warm dapple light speckled all around you. 

There’s a gentle flicker to your left that catches your attention, a single light-ray hits the small diamond on your dainty gold band where it sits heavy on your ring finger. You hold your hand up, remembering back to when you both had found it, he had immediately dropped to his knee— it wasn’t much, but it was perfect. 

“I give you this ring as a reminder that we face this world together. We’re an unbreakable team.”

Even after all these years and the circumstances of the world around you, it’s a vow you stand by. 

Branches above rustle and crack as a breeze sweeps through, the edges of the paper that is resting on a book in your lap fold over with each small gust, drawing your attention back to the words you’ve written. 

…We passed what looked like it was a small farm at one point. It made me yearn for normalcy. Where we could settle into the small farmhouse, drink our morning coffee on the wraparound porch while we watch the sun rise. Have all the animals that would give a homestead atmosphere. A coup of chickens where we would gather eggs daily, a flock of sheep and goats for milk, and a small herd of cows— because what’s a farm without some cows I can give silly names to. 

We’d raise a family in that farmhouse— lots of babies running around to wrangle. Breakfast of pancakes and fresh eggs, all of us together around our table, then tucking them all in at night after we’ve read them several stories. 

We’d lay in each other’s arms as the crickets sing their chirping songs. A breeze washing over us through the open windows, the evening air lighter and crisp as the night fades and our worn bodies succumb to sleep. 

There wouldn’t be heartache or sadness. No fighting or stressing over jobs. We’d be happy. We’d be together… 

“Eve! Let’s get goin’— we only got a few more hours of light left. Should be at the cabin before sundown.” The thick Texas twang breaks through your thoughts. 

Steve standing off in the distance, his blonde hair disheveled and wind blown as he looks back to where you’re tucked under the tree. 

He’s handsome in his own right, not someone you would have ever found yourself with in different circumstances, but now you wouldn’t know how to function without him. 

A chance meeting the day of the outbreak had brought the two of you together. 

You were working as a traveling nurse at a hospital 4 hours from where you lived, instantly going into crisis mode as lead of the trauma response team, the ER quickly overwhelmed with patients seeking treatment for bites or flu-like symptoms— it was unlike anything you had ever seen before in all your years as a nurse. 

Steve, a retired detective, was on vacation with his wife visiting a friend before the initial outbreak happened. The morning of, he’d gone on a duck hunting trip, while his wife went to breakfast with some girlfriends at a local Waffle House. He had brought her into your ER when he noticed she was acting strangely, similar to the symptoms the news was reporting as a widespread epidemic. Her outcome was not hopeful as you did your best to administer vials of antibiotics and fluids, the infection moving through her was beyond anything you could treat. 

It was Steve who made the call to abandon his wife and the hospital and the realization hit fairly quickly that there was less you could actually do to help others. 

Fleeing the area, seeking solace in one another as you both navigated through quarantine zones— searching for familiarity in your former hometown, only to be met with decimation and nothingness. 

Steve’s way around a gun helped keep you safe when evading FEDRA, the nursing kit you put together came in handy when stitching him up between shootouts and fighting off the infected— this was now your new normal. 

As the years progressed, you both found contentment with each other. Security gave way to a sense of comfort and revival, falling into a deeper connection beyond two people surviving a post outbreak apocalypse— if you were going to be in each other’s lives, you might as well be fully committed. 

“Eve! Pack your shit up— let’s go!” He spits out a little harsher, no real malice behind his tone— he likes to stick to his schedule. 

You don't respond, folding your letter carefully then tucking all of  your items into your canvas pack.  Standing to your full height, you give your legs a minute to let the blood reacquaint fully, your hands brushing the bits of dust and weeds from your pants. 

You hear Steve continue his huffing, as you make your way closer to where he’s standing. 

“I thought I told you to knock it off with those pointless letters!” He gruffs, hands secure at his hips and his head cocked to the side, hoping to catch your gaze. 

Your letters. They had become a loose journal, your stream of thoughts you needed to get out so you were not plagued by the pain and anxiety that came with them whirling around your brain. 

Letters to your past, letters to a new life that awaits you and sometimes to no one at all— you wrote about your travels, things you missed or longed for now, hope for the future. 

They were too much to keep, pages and pages filled with your words and stories, some containing memories too painful to read or share, a weight you didn’t want to carry, so you scattered them throughout your travels. In the last 21 years, you’ve written hundreds of them, dropping them in abandoned mailboxes, or tucked away in the abandoned spaces you’d settled into in passing, as if to send them to whomever you were writing to— leaving a trail of your life across cities and states. 

“And I thought I told you to stop calling me Eve— guess we don’t always get what we want?” You had asked him multiple times over the years to not call you Eve, that was your former life and you hated the reminder, but you know he doesn’t do it out of spite. 

The gravel crunches under your boots as you walk past, not looking to argue with him in the heat of the sun. 

Steve’s hand reaches out clasping around yours, halting your movements, his eyes fixed on you, furrowed brows as if he wants to say something. 

“Hey— Ya know I love you, right?” He sighs, his fingers toying with the gold band on your ring finger. 

You look to where your hands are joined, the twisting of the gold band a small gesture of his when things get tough or tense, you smile when you meet his gaze again. 

“I know.” You do know, and you feel it too. “Come on, we’ve only got a few hours of light left.” He shakes his head, but gives you a smile at the way you throw his comment back at him. 

*

It had been close to 2 hours of walking, nearly dark, by the time you both made it to the cabin, nestled among dozens of other abandoned cabins on the hillside of an old ski resort. 

You imagine it was a popular spot in its prime, filled with families taking their kids on their first snow trips, friends racing each other down the slopes, non-skiers enjoying warm beverages in the lodge while everyone else enjoyed the snowy weather. 

Now desolate and forgotten, a stop for raiders on the hunt for supplies and hostages or survivors seeking refuge in search of a town just north of here, Jackson. 

Steve had managed to trade for a hand-held CB radio early on, he kept tabs on chatter that happened among FEDRA, staying one step ahead of their whereabouts. At some point he had stumbled upon private channels used by other survivors, he didn’t talk much about what they discussed with you, it was his realm of expertise and a small thing that was just his, so you didn’t push him to share more than what he was willing to. 

It was a year ago he had connected with someone and heard about Jackson. There was an offer for a place for a fresh start, a community of other survivors, somewhere to feel safe and comfortable without fear of being attacked, placed in solitary confinement, killed— or infected. Steve decided it was where you both were meant to be, hashing out a plan and specific route on his tattered map, making sure to stay in constant contact with this person in Jackson as you both traveled. 

Venturing further into the resort, you both settled on the lesser marred of the dilapidated cabins.

“I’m gonna check the perimeter, you go on inside— check each room first, I’ll be right in. But remember, if I’m not back in ten minutes, you don’t come looking for me— you wait until morning and you head over that mountain, under no circumstances do you leave that cabin before sunrise.” Steve instructed, his hands on your shoulders reassuring the doubt he can see written all over your face. 

“Steve— W-what if, there’s something inside—“ Your voice is barely a whisper, nervousness creeping in as your hands grip onto Steve’s wrists that have moved to cup your face, his thumbs smoothing across the apples of your cheeks. 

“We’ve done this a million times before, I know you can do it— I wouldn’t send you in there if I didn’t think you were capable, you’ll be fine. Just think, this is the last time we have to do this. Then it’s you and me, in Jackson, together and safe— ‘kay?” His direct eye contact really drives home the message— together and safe.

“Okay.”

“I love you, go be brave.” Romantic and encouraging as he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“I love you— be safe, please.” 

“Always.” He shoots a wink with his mustached smile, a few slow steps backwards then turning to make his way up the backside of the cabin, pulling the butt of his rifle close to his chest, hunched and scanning every inch of the surrounding area. 

The cabin would seem warm and inviting if the possibility of a Clicker behind the door wasn’t a high probability. 

Armed with the knife Steve insisted you keep on you at all times, your refusal at his request for you to carry a gun, you make your way up the front steps. 

Each move was slow and calculated, the wood beneath your boots wobbled and creaked the closer you got to the front door. The handle is cold to the touch as you twist it open, pushing the door with a little extra effort to unstick it from the doorframe. 

It’s dark and musty, uninhabited by the living and anything beyond that at first glance. Dust and cobwebs cover every surface, pictures still mounted on the walls slightly hanging uneven. A floral couch with two side chairs still arranged in an inviting way, waiting to be enjoyed during a long conversation. The kitchen was small but large enough that it still would have been possible to whip up a hearty meal over the stove, then gather at the tiny table to enjoy the meal and dessert. 

You’re grateful the floor plan is an open space, no immediate threat to you upon entering. 

There’s only two doors, which you assume hide a bathroom and a bedroom. 

The first door reveals nothing but a sink, toilet and shower-tub combo— you’re looking forward to a hot shower when you get to Jackson. 

You stare at the closed remaining door, the handle of the knife twisting in your hand as you prepare yourself, not really feeling like you have it in you to take out anything that might be waiting for you on the other side. 

A deep breath in, reaching for the the handle you give it a quick jiggle announcing your presence, twist and a quick swing open— a queen size bed draped in outdated sheets, bedside tables with lamps covered in a layer of dust, a dresser opposite the bed with a giant mirror hanging above it. 

Empty. 

Relief washing away the dread. 

Stepping into the room, you toss your pack and knife onto the dresser before finding a seat at the end of the bed, the mattress shifting under you, the springs groan as you settle into a comfortable spot. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed since you entered the house, noting it’s been a while since you had heard or seen anything from Steve, but knowing he likes to be thorough, you’re hoping he makes his way through the front door soon. 

The moon has crept into the night sky, shining through the small bedroom window, illuminating the reflection staring back at you. 

Sometimes you forget how long it’s been since you’ve seen what you really look like. While it’s you that you’re staring at in the mirror, you feel slightly unrecognizable to yourself— aged by 21 years in every sense, tired and worn down by the state of the world and lack of sleep. 

Your fingers lightly trace over your skin, taking in every detail, rediscovering every angle of your appearance— the old characteristics blending into the new ones. 

A yawn escapes you, remembering what Steve had said about not leaving, you decide to get yourself comfortable in bed and wait for him. 

Kicking your boots off, you crawl up the length of the bed, plopping your head down onto the stack of lumpy pillows, your mind wandering as you run through all the scenarios as to why Steve hasn’t returned yet, debating whether you should go take a look outside or listen and wait for morning— scared of what you might find waiting for you. 

Your eyelids begin a heavy blink, struggling to remain open and alert, your breathing evening out as your body relaxes into the mattress, sleep consuming your mind. 

Warmth surrounds you, the bed dipping and creaking pulls you from your sleep, immediate panic bursts in your chest as your eyes shoot open, your vision blurred as you seek out the movement of a shadowy figure behind you. 

“Hey, hey it’s okay— it’s just me.” 

“Steve?!” Turning your body to lay facing him, your hands fisting his shirt, scanning his face for any sign of distress or discomfort. “What took you so long?”

“I’m fine.” Placing a hand over one of yours that’s settled on his chest. “Decided to wait a bit, just to be sure nothin’ was out there— I’m sorry.” His hand moves to the base of your neck, his forehead resting against yours.

“S’okay.”

“No— I’m sorry for callin’ your letters pointless earlier. I know how much they mean to you.  I just—“ He releases a heavy sigh, voice quivering as he avoids eye contact with you. 

“What— what’s the matter?” You sense there’s something Steve’s not telling you. 

“Nothin’s the matter. I just worry about what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours— you shut down on me and I just wish you’d let me help you carry the burden.” His gaze moves back to yours. “Promise me, when we get to Jackson, you don’t let your thoughts weigh you down any longer— promise me you’ll let yourself be happy there.”

“I p-promise.” You say, brushing the blonde strands of hair off of his forehead. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier.”

“Nah, I was pushin’ your buttons— I deserved it.” You both laugh at his response. 

Steve leans into your space, his lips slotting over yours, it’s angled and slow, his grip on your neck still steady as the kiss begins to deepen. Throwing your leg over his hip, canting against the sturdiness of his thigh, seeking out some sort of friction to relieve the building ache between your legs. 

But before things are about progress, Steve’s pulling away from your mouth, slowing the roll of your hips with his hand. 

“We should get some sleep— we’ve got close to a 3, maybe 4 hour walk tomorrow, we need to get all the rest we can get.”

“Y-yeah, of course.” Your response is breathy, a slight pang in your chest at his soft rejection, questioning whether you had been too harsh towards him earlier in the day— but your body could use the rest. 

Adjusting yourself, you turn away from Steve, his large arm wrapping around and pulling you closer to him. Your back now against his firm chest, each one of your tense muscles slowly relaxing into him and his warmth. 

Thoughts of a new start in Jackson flood your mind as you drift off into a deep sleep. A chance at a better life, where Steve and you can settle into normalcy together. Retire from the constant fear and panic of daily survival out in the open. The taste of prosperity and the sense of peace, an almost tangible reality for the two of you. 

Steve senses sleep has set in for you, the ease of your regulated breathing paired with your gentle snores. He nestles himself into the crook of your neck, his fingers instinctively migrate to your ring smoothing over the cool metal, his thick whiskers tickle lightly at your skin as he whispers reserved confessions into the balmy. A gentle kiss to your shoulder before allowing himself to fully breathe easy, deciding to keep a watchful eye throughout the night. 

“You’ll be happier Genevieve, I promise.”

*

The sun is in its full glory once you both set out on the last stretch of your journey over the mountain.

Steve had been rather short with you all morning, you chalked it up to his tossing and turning all night, his eyes bloodshot, evident in lacking sleep— he had promised everything was fine, so you believed him. 

“How much longer do you think we have?” Not really knowing what to talk about with the uneasiness that’s been going on all morning. 

“I don’t know, Eve— they guy said it was about a 3 hour walk from the resort. We’ve been walking close to 2 and a half, so we’re probably close.”

“Please don’t call me—“

“Jesus Christ Genevieve! I’m fucking sorry! But you don’t make it easy for me sometimes— I feel like I’m always at a fucking arms length away from you even after 21 fucking years.” Anger shoots from his mouth like bullets, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, at least never towards you. “It’s a goddamn name! Gen, Eve, Genevieve— they’re all the fucking same!” 

“I-I’m sorry.” Tears prick at your eyes, you try your best to not let them fall— you’ll save them for when you’re alone in the safety of your new home. 

“Fuck! No, I’m sorry— shit! C’mere.”

Steve pulls you into him, his face hot against your cheek as he holds you close, the button down he’s wearing is drenched in sweat, there’s a slight tremble to the grip he has on you. 

“Are you okay?” You pull back to get a better look at him, beads of sweat glisten across his forehead, his cheeks flushed a bright red. 

“Yeah, just really fucking tired.” 

*CLICK*

“Hands where we can see them! Slowly, no fast movements!” A woman’s voice echoes through the air. 

Steve releases you from his arms, both of you slowly turning, arms raised up as you were told. 

There’s 5 of them, all on horses with their guns drawn in your direction. The woman seems to be in charge of the group, her horse placed a few feet in front of the others.

“We don’t mean no harm, we’re just trying to get to the settlement just over this mountain. You must be Maria? I was told you might greet us before we got there.” Steve says, keeping his tone even as explains himself. 

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” She asks, her expression still unreadable as she waits for Steve to respond. 

“No— you don’t, but I was told you would bring us the rest of the way in.” 

Maria takes a minute to decide whether she wants to believe Steve or not. 

“Scan them.” Looking back at one of the men behind her, nodding to where Steve and you are still standing with your arms raised. “I don’t care who you talked to, you get scanned before you come in.” 

The man grabs a device from his saddle pack, then makes his way towards you, the other 3 men’s guns still aimed, fingers hovering over their triggers. 

“Lady’s first.” The man states, placing the device on your neck, there’s a small zap to your skin when the scan is administered. 

“Green!” He shouts, holding the device up to show the green screen in Maria’s direction. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, even though you knew you were fine. 

Turning towards Steve, the man places the scanner on Steve’s neck, Steve’s eyes locking with yours as the man presses the designated button to conduct the virus scan. 

The man steps back quickly, a flash of red catches your attention. 

“RED!” He holds the device up. 

The other men direct their aim to Steve, his head hanging low and no sign of resistance to finding out he’s infected. 

“Steve! No— Tell them you’re not infected!” Insisting he speak up. “He’s not infected! Scan him again! Please!” You scream at the group, your voice straining as you plead with them to scan Steve again, convinced it was a bad read. 

“Please!! Scan him—“

“Genevieve— it’s not wrong.” Steve says. 

You turn to him, chest heaving and your throat burning from yelling, confused by what he’s saying.

“What? What do you mean it’s not wrong? You’re not infected Steve— you’re just tired, they need to scan you again!”

“I was bit.” 

You can feel the blood drain from your face as the words leave his mouth. Your brain takes a moment to register what he had said. 

Bit. 

Infected. 

“No— no! No, no no!”

“Genevieve—“

“W-when?”

“Last night, there was a runner that came out of one of the other cabins—“

Steve’s confession hits you like a ton of bricks in slow motion. You hate it and don’t want to believe a single thing he’s saying, because the reality is that this is where it ends for him— for you. 

The tears burn as they begin to stream down your face. 

“You didn’t say anything though—“

“I needed to get you here— I needed you to be safe.”

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, throwing yourself at him, anchoring your arms around his neck. 

“No! I can’t do this without you— I can’t lose you too!” 

“Yes, you can. You’re the bravest person I’ve known in a long time. You’re going to get there and you’re going to meet new people and you will be able to help out because that’s what you love— you love helping people and I love that about you. This is your chance to start over, to be happy— do that for me?” His hands cup your face so he can look at you, his eyes filled with tears as well. “Do me a favor, write me one of your letters— I want to know everything.”

You nod, unable to speak, the lump in your throat growing as your remaining time together dwindles away. 

“I love you, Genevieve.” His words muffled against your skin, leaving one last kiss on your forehead. 

“I love you, too.” You breathe out, your eyes closed savoring his soft touch one last time. 

“How long?” Maria asks Steve.

“Probably ‘nother hour left, give or take.”

“Alright Genevieve— you’re riding with me, hand your pack to one of my men. Andrew, you hang back with Steve— you know what to do.” Maria orders everyone. 

Wiping your tears before placing a kiss to Steve’s cheek, then turning to where Maria is waiting for you, handing your pack to one of her men. Maria leans down to grab onto your arm, as you hoist yourself up onto the backside of the horse. 

“Let’s head back.” Maria says, pulling the reins up and to one side to signal the horse to turn around, a click of her tongue has the horse moving forward in the direction of the settlement. 

You can’t bear to look back in Steve’s direction, not trusting yourself to not run back to him. 

Leaving him and knowing his fate is like reliving the same pain you endured 21 years ago. The outbreak takes everything from you for a second time. 

Your world shatters, crumbling as the horse carries you further and further from him. 

*BANG*

The sound ricochets out over the valley, your heart sinks as a new wave of tears silently fall. 

*

You don’t remember the entire ride to the settlement or how you ended up on the porch of a two story house. 

Maria had mentioned putting you up in her brother-in-law's converted garage, a small studio bedroom where those new to the settlement would stay while their permanent residence were being cleaned and prepped. She said it wasn’t anything special and you’d have to use the main houses kitchen and bathroom, but you’d have your own space in a few days— so interacting with a few strangers was the least you could do for the hospitality. 

You honestly didn’t care where she put you for the time being, the stables would have been enough, you just wanted to be alone. 

Glancing over your shoulder you see others moving about freely, children running about in the open, a stark contrast between what you had been so used to. 

There’s rows and rows of homes, a small town-like area, a community garden— this place was everything that Steve had described to you, he would have loved it. 

The opening of the front door pulls you back to the front porch where you’re standing with Maria. 

“We’ve got a newcomer, she’s going to stay here until we get a room ready down the street.” Maria explained to the young girl who is glaring at you. 

“Why do you keep bringing them here? This isn’t a shelter— can’t she stay somewhere else?”

“No, she can’t. This is Ellie, her bark is worse than her bite— she’ll grow on you. Ellie, this is Genevieve let’s let her get comfortable and situated— she just lost whom I’m assuming was her husband, so please make her feel welcomed.” Maria coerses Ellie into letting you stay, but you don’t miss the eye rolling throw your way. 

The home is spacious and inviting, you decide it’s far more comfortable than the stables would have been. 

“Ellie, can you grab Genevieve a glass of water please.” It’s more of a demand than an ask. “Here Genevieve, have a seat here at the table. I’m sure Ellie can make you something to eat if you’re hungry too.”

“So now we’re a shelter and we have room service? Her legs don’t seem broken to me—.” 

“Ellie, glass of water!”

The girl grunts something under her breath as she follows through with getting you water, you settle into a chair and try to not let the unwelcome feeling that’s been looming over you since you set foot in the house add to the pain that is still radiating through you. 

You wipe a few tears you hadn’t realized had fallen, a new wave of emotions hitting you, another moment of realization of Steve not being here with you like you had both talked about. 

“Is there anything else I can get you Genevieve?” Maria cautiously places a hand on your shoulder, you take it as her way of apologizing for your loss. 

“Umm, just my bag would be great and a shower would be nice.” You sniffle, ready to lock yourself away for the day, not wanting to be forced to have unwanted conversations with a teenager who already hates your new presence. 

“I’ll go grab your bag from the stables, then you can start getting settled.” She gives your shoulder a light squeeze before turning for the front door. “Ellie, be nice.”

A glass of water is placed in front of you, a few cubes of ice float around the clear liquid. You don’t even remember the last time you had enjoyed an ice cold drink. 

Ellie situates herself in the chair across from you, looking as if she wants to say something. 

“So— your husband is dead?” 14 years old and a great conversationalist. 

“No— y-yes.” Your chest aches at the mention of ‘your husband.’

“Well, that’s not confusing. So, did you watch him die?”

“Hmm?” 

“Your husband, did you watch your husband die?” She asks again. 

“N-no.”

“I’m all out of questions then.” She slinks back into her chair. 

You stare at the ice, almost half the size it was when it was placed in front of you. Wishing you could slowly melt away, become the nothingness you feel like. 

The front door swings open and closes with a gentle click, the clunking sound of boots makes the presence of whoever stepped into the house known. 

“Hey kid, sorry I’m late. Tommy wanted to get drinks after our patrol.” 

A deep husky voice permeates the room, its thick syrupy tone seeps into every little crevice of your memory, its familiarity prompting the goosebumps to form across your body. 

“I didn’t know we were having guests— this a new friend of yours?” He asks, his foot step getting closer to where you're still seated at the table, your back turned to him. 

“Fuck no! It’s one of Maria’s strays. Said she has to stay here until her room is available— which is bullshit if you ask me!” She spouts off, her annoyance very apparent. 

“Ellie, manners!” He grits out. 

You lift yourself from the chair, steadying your weak state on the table and chair as you turn in his direction. 

Your heart nearly stops the moment your eyes land on him— a ruggedness to him, his soft brown eyes filled with a darkness that comes with loss and sorrow, his dark locks and beard sprinkled with tuffs of gray, an overall hardness about him that hides his true self. 

“Joel?” Your eyes wide and filled with more tears, the name is barely a whisper as it falls into the air. 

“Eve?” A name he never thought he would say again. 

[suaimhneas-sonas]

I made a thing

[thehinks]

—  but I'm gonna be where the lights are shinin' on me !

—  ALL ABOUT JESS

muse: the rhinestone cowboy full name: jess ramona hinkley nickname: jessie, hinks face claim: brigette lundy-paine gender & pronouns: non-binary, they/them birthday & age: april 1st, 26 years old zodiac: aries sun, pisces moon, leo rising hometown: belton, tx sexuality: bisexual, biromantic occupation: clerk at rockin’ n rollin’ roller rink character inspo: michael kelso (that ‘70s show), lloyd dobler (say anything), shaggy rogers (scooby doo)

—  PINTEREST & PLAYLIST

—  A LITTLE MORE IN-DEPTH

(tw: parental death, implied violence, transphobia, and homophobia)

jess hinkley was born to the owners of the best damn barbecue place in bell county on a sunny april fool’s day in belton, texas. they grew up inside that restaurant, lovingly named robin’s after her effervescent mother. and when they lost their mom, they helped their old man and older brother raise their little sister inside its walls. they were the type to mow their elderly neighbor’s lawn and refuse payment every time; to help the single moms carry in their groceries as they wrangled their little ones; to hold the door open for a whole line of folks leaving the sunday sermon.

despite the responsibility of looking after their little family and the innate kindness that came so naturally, jess grew up wild, careless, and positively carefree. if it sounded dreamy and fun, jess was in. they wore bright red cowboy boots, still a staple of their closet, and kissed girls behind the all-night diner. everything was bright and full of possibility, even when they ended up smiling through a split lip and black eye after one of the assholes in town for the rodeo caught them behind the diner and started somethin’.

jess ran fast and hard all through school; first on their track & field team, then from the various authorities as their restless impulsivity ran wild. they spent every weekend dancing at the local dive bars with the latest catch their town managed to reel in, fell in love hard, and got their heart broken every week, without fail. even though they helped out at their pop’s place until the day they left texas, there was a laundry list of other jobs they’d held for a little while that was a mile long. 

you never knew where to find jess, but they’d show up when they were needed, anyway. they were an open book, as easily read as someone could be, which made it all the more shocking when they up and left. one minute, they were slinging pizzas for the little italian place in town, and the next, they were packing their bags and letting their family down easy. what our open book hadn’t shared with everyone was how sheltered they felt, even considering their widely accepted status as the most flamboyant part of belton.

there had to be more than their little town, right? the pull of the bright lights and the promise of something new was too tempting to resist. their desire to be a star, completely unfounded in talent but egged on by blind ambition, instilled deep within their heart that they could do anything; star in movies, play in a band, tell jokes like gilda radner. they found themself hitching a ride with a van of friends following the grateful dead and rode with them all the way to sunny los angeles. what happens next is anybody’s guess. jess is just along for the ride.

[absentsdream]

* you know juniper rothschild, right? they’re twenty-five, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, one and a bit years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to siren 042 by lala lala like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole unending expanse of forest coming alive with dread, a loneliness corroding the soul as acid ; splinters in the plush muscle of the palm circled by a blush of irritation ; at the true centre of a tarnished crucifix pendant, a worn pit thumbed from habitual nervousness thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is february 2nd, so they’re an aquarius, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

AESTHETICS.

bloody nose and a split lip to match, ladybugs crawling over the hand, heavy morning fog, creased linen, reading a novel until two a.m., nearly-empty diners, tarnished silver, words kept silent on a bitten tongue, dull sunlight, half-melted novelty candles, pitched ringing in the ear, tattered comics, ivory, nineties sci-fi television, chlorine drying stiff on the forearms.

CHARA INSPO.

carrie white ( carrie ), tender branson ( survivor ), sara sidle ( csi ), annie landsberg ( maniac ), iris ( the student ), toru watanabe ( norwegian wood ), abby ( blood simple )

BACKGROUND.

bethany ellis grows up an only child in manchester, new hampshire. free time is spent cycling around town to pick strawberries from the front garden of a house down the street, becoming lost in state parks over the weekends where pine needles roll underneath her sneaker soles; everything a young girl does. with two loving parents, it is an idyllic childhood.

her parents were happy for a little while. sucked neck-deep in debt from identity fraud, it had slipped their grasp as quickly as it had come about. they did an about-face nearly overnight. classmates signed her a goodbye note before relocating to an odd little commune some ways out of a town up north when she is nine.

she’s now home-schooled, taught more domestic skills than science. she struggled to accept the change; while she wanted to learn about physics and literature graced by the hands of long-dead poets, she was taught to sew until her fingertips were pricked with blood, to take out stains from clothing to the point her hands were raw and angry, and memorise bible verses until they were the only thought left in her head. she would often act out, much to the embarrassment of her parents. too young at the time for any real punishment, they bore the brunt of it at times where she couldn’t see it.

RELIGIOUS FANATICISM TW initiation is on her sixteenth birthday. there’s many details of it she refuses to let known. for some time, the commune stays in the realm of town speculation and wild rumours, a potential church fundraiser for the baptists who think everyone needs salvation, before another girl her age, battered and bruised, manages to flee through miles of forest into town and the sheriff’s department catches wind. 

POLICE TW she’s almost seventeen when torchlight winks through the gaps of the barn’s ant-ridden wooden beams. it’s not a full moon that night. disoriented and huddling with other children on the far side of the barn as the adults chant and float across the dirt floor in a trance, there’s a deafening noise as the rusted iron grooves of the door is forced open and police pour in. many are taken away, her parents included. she’s gifted a crisp new manila folder. in it, a new identity. juniper rothschild. TW END

a family in the middle of nowhere, nevada, take her in. the caseworker overlooks the fact a crucifix graces the wall above her bed’s headboard. they’re nice enough, but to the point it makes her stomach turn. as soon as she’s old enough to, she leaves. 

desperation pushes her far enough to apply for college in new york. there’s one place generous enough to take her, hardship bursary and all; the other is the community college some ways west in carson city. the decision isn’t difficult. but the cold of the city settles into her bones in a way she never comes to accept. eventually, after a grueling engineering degree that tests her organisation limits she moves south. north carolina is warmer. the sun on her face at the pier in irving makes her forget life isn’t as hollow as it often appears.

TRAITS & QUIRKS.

wears long sleeves on the hottest day of the year, and lives in a hoodie, jeans and tattered converse to the point others question whether she’s a glitch in the matrix

makes a conscious effort to cover up, avoid being seen altogether. she’s grown familiar with the idea to draw as little attention to her as possible

following her swim and water polo team years in college, she’s now a junior swim coach for the high school. swimming lets her centre herself

guarded and distrustful. won’t divulge in her family history easily, and keeps the odd urge to journal hidden under lock and key beneath her mattress

lives in a fairly run-down beach shack along dorado road, she thinks the several rats in the roof that call it home are her pets. she talks to them through the ceiling

reading and writing are not easy things for her. numbers come a lot more naturally, with a natural aptitude for it. because she knows she’ll never hold a full time job in her current state, she’s a part time cadd technician at a boutique architecture firm in charlotte

naturally a blond, she rigorously dyes her hair with the cheapest box dye available. it’s fried to death and resembles straw more than actual hair

in more extreme measures to be someone else, her voice has been trained to speak lower than what it is

was dead certain about being a lesbian in her teens, got pissed off when she ended up dating a boy at twenty-two.

paranoid. like, the government is listening into conversations via robotic birds in nearby trees, paranoid. she thinks she’s probably right.

has a gun she bought from a dodgy shop in texas whilst on family vacation in her underwear drawer

almost always reeks of chlorine

horny for class warfare

has a thing for drew barrymore

thinks online mbti quizzes are a military-designed hoax designed to control the masses 

WANTED PLOTS.

cryptid hunting buddies. she’ll pack the coffee thermos, u bring the sandwiches

a previous, fleeting relationship. someone juniper used as an effort to feel more anchored in irving but soon realised it was ugly for her to do people dirty like that :/

she’s fairly lazy, so a person who often sees her like clockwork at cutie’s for midweek dinner

literally anything. let’s plot baybee !

[fanficimagery]

Natalie’s Half-Sister [Part 3 of 3]

Summary: Imagine being surprised by your sister and landing an interview with a hospital all the way in LA. Looks like it's time to finally make a decision- stay in Texas or move out to LA.

Words: 2.9K Warnings: None really. The ending sucks. I started to run low on inspo.

David's trailing after Natalie and Jeff, the three of them walking through the Texas airport to grab their luggage.

"As you can see, guys, we're in Texas to surprise Y/N who we haven't seen in about two months." Natalie and Jeff turn around, flashing peace signs and smiles. "Natalie's here because it's her sister and Jeff is here because he's secretly in love with Y/N."

Jeff rolls his eyes. "Will you stop telling the internet I'm in love with Y/N! She's gonna see this and stop talking to me." His smile completely says otherwise and David laughs as he continues to record.

"That wasn't a denial. You heard it here first, folks. Jeff's got himself a crush."

"Don't be an idiot."

"Whatever. You literally worked your ass off to clear your schedule this week so you could make the trip out here with us."

"Will you two hurry up!" Natalie grumbles. "I wanna make it to Y/N's house before she leaves for the football game."

"What football game?" Jeff asks.

"It's a Friday night in Texas," she says. "High school football is a big thing around here, and Y/N has a nephew in band and another on the football team."

"Well I guess we're going to a football game." David smiles.

          - X - X - X - X - X -

Homecoming is tonight and while you have one nephew playing in the football game, your other nephew who's in band is also running for Homecoming King. You had your entire outfit planned out, but after an unexpected cold front pushed through earlier that morning, the night time temperatures are expected to plummet and you need to rethink a few things.

There's still a couple of hours before you need to leave, so you're relaxing while you can. But just as you've gotten comfortable watching some mind-numbing reality tv show, your doorbell rings. Then quietly groaning, you get up to go see who's there.

As soon as the door is opened, Natalie and Jeff pop confetti cannons and David shouts Surprise!, recording the entire thing. Your mouth drops open, but then you're quick to smile and laugh.

"Oh my god!" Immediately pulling Natalie into a hug, you hug her before switching out for David and then Jeff. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you guys doing here?"

"I missed you!" Natalie gushed. "And where I go, David goes."

You smile and then look at Jeff, raising an eyebrow at him. "What?" He chuckles. "I missed my best friend."

You coo and hug him again, David giggling. "I caught that on camera. I'm showing Todd."

"Shut up."

Ushering the trio into your house, you help them bring in their bags as Natalie casually mentions just how long they'll be here for. "Okay so I got two spare rooms and a couch. Or if someone wants to bunk together, that's fine too."

"I want the room." Natalie and David say simultaneously.

Everyone looks at Jeff and he shrugs. "I haven't had a good nap or night's rest since Y/N left. If you think I'm sleeping in any room other than hers, you're delusional."

You laugh. "That's good to hear because I was wondering how I was going to wrangle you into my bed without seeming clingy."

You quickly show David and Natalie to their rooms, and then lead Jeff to yours. He whistles as he walks in. "Now this is what I'm talking about," he muses. "Your place looks homey."

"Well I hoped it would. I've lived here for five years."

You meet Natalie and David in the hall, leading the way back towards your living room.

"What's up with this weather?" Your sister asks. "I was expecting heat and humidity like you're always complaining about."

"If you wanted that miserable Texas weather, you should have been here last night. Cold front pushed through this morning and it's only expected to get colder. Especially when the sun goes down."

"So we're going to be sitting in that tonight? Natalie said something about a football game," David wonders.

"Yeah. But not just any football game," you grin. "It's Homecoming which means the stands will be packed, and a King and Queen will be crowned before the game starts. Which speaking of," you then address Natalie. "Devon is running for King."

"Aw. Yay!" She muses.

"Yeah. So if you guys are gonna join, we have two hours to run to Walmart and find you guys hoodies if you didn't pack any."

"Well I guess we're going to Walmart!" David laughs.

          - X - X - X - X - X -

Natalie easily ends up finding an outfit from your closet to wear to the game while the boys opt for their regular jeans and shirts from their luggage, and a hoodie bought from Walmart.

You're finishing getting dressed when David and Jeff enter the room, relief evident in their features when they see you're pulling a high school themed t-shirt atop a black long sleeve rather than having caught you less dressed. Your hair is down and curled, and a sparkly headband drapes across your forehead. Natalie then exits the bathroom in a similar outfit to yours.

"What time does this game start?" Jeff finally asks.

"Seven thirty, but we'll need to get there about an hour or so earlier," you say. Glancing around, you asks, "Has anyone seen my garter?" Their expressions are rather confused, and your eyes roll. "Homecoming garter," you reiterate. "You wear it over your clothes, not under."

"Oh."

You snort at their simultaneous exclamation.

"Is this it?" Natalie picks it up from your bedside table. "Aw. Cute!"

You take it from her, bending down to step into it with your right leg and draw it halfway up your thigh. The artificial, white chrysanthemum has been sprayed with glitter and a small football player and musical notes have been glued on it. Ribbons, at least six inches long and in your old high school colors, hang down. Two ribbons bear the names of your nephews, two others bear the words HOCO 2019, and there are two miniature cow bells dangling.

Your sister and friends stare at it in confusion, and you huff a laugh. "Girls are typically supposed to wear mums that are pinned to their shirts and boys wear garters on their arms, but I don't like pinning something heavy to my shirt and bra strap, so garter it is."

"I've seen memes about mums," David says. "But the ones they show are usually bigger and being held up by a strap around the neck."

"Oh you'll see those," you tell him. "I personally think those are ridiculous, but the teenage girls love them. Just wait and see." Then after slipping your feet into a pair of boots, you make sure you and your guests have everything they need before leaving.

          - X - X - X - X - X -

You luck out and find one of the last parking spaces in the parking lot, and then pull out four small fuzzy blankets from your car trunk. Jeff, Natalie, and David seemed skeptical of you needing them, but after seeing several other people walking in with blankets, they agreed that maybe it was a good idea to have them close by.

You pay for four tickets, after convincing Jeff and David that they could buy dinner later, and then lead them towards the bleachers. They're surprised by how many people have shown up and David is far too amused when he sees just how crazy big the mums get. Then leading them towards your usual spot, close to the band and halfway up the bleachers, you all take a seat and watch as they look around to take in the hyped atmosphere.

"This is crazy!" David laughs, looking around at the packed stands. "I can record. Right?"

"I don't see why not. Just bleep out last names."

"Of course."

Both football teams take the field to warm-up and music blares from the scoreboard speaker.

"Not to be a downer," Jeff says, leaning towards you so you can hear him, "but is your old high school football team even good?"

"Well right now they're five and one," you say. "Tonight should be a good game."

The band soon marches out and takes their place in the stands, as well as the dance team. You clap and cheer for them all, waving at several familiar faces that have made an appearance or three with your nephews at your house. Girls in beautiful dresses start making their way towards the field and Natalie coos at them.

Then just before you can cave and wrap yourself in a blanket, one of the cheerleaders rushes up to you. "Y/N!"

"Hey, Dee. What's up?"

"Devon needs an escort. His mom is not going to make it."

Your eyes widen. "What?"

"Devon really wants you to walk him on the field. He nearly started crying when his mom called."

"Fuck," you curse softly. "Is he sure? I mean, his other aunts are here too. Is he sure he-"

"Yes," Dee assures you, smiling. "So are you in or out? I need to go make the change up in the press box if you agree."

"Do it! Do it!" David gleefully urges you.

Natalie is eagerly nodding and Jeff nudges you. "Go on. I'll keep your spot warm."

"Fine. I'll do it."

As you take off with Dee, Jeff, Natalie, and David remain in the bleachers.

"So what are the odds of Y/N's nephew getting king?" Jeff wonders.

"If I remember correctly, Devon's been in band all four years of highschool."

"So he's a band nerd."

"He's not a band nerd," Natalie chuckles, swatting at David. "He's pretty popular, but I'm not sure he's as popular as the football players running for king as well."

"Okay and what about the football player nephew?" Jeff wonders. "What's his number?"

"Uhh.. fifty-six. Right there." Natalie points him out and the boys hum.

"Geez he's tall," David laughs. "Hopefully he hits hard."

Jeff grins. "Yeah. I wanna see some hard hits."

Time winds down and soon enough the Homecoming court takes the field. Boys are escorted by a female family member and girls a male family member. One by one they're called forward, their extracurriculars listed off and what their future plans after graduation are. Then when Y/N and her nephew Devon are called, Jeff, Natalie, and David join the small group of Devon's family to cheer the loudest.

A prince and princess are named first, the crowd cheering and screaming in delight. Then when it's time for the king, David turns his camera on and zooms in on Y/N and Devon. The crowd seems to hold their breath and then.. Devon's name is called. He's won king.

Natalie jumps up, screaming, and David and Jeff laugh as they join the crowd in cheering Devon on. Pictures are taken, congratulations are given, and soon Y/N joins her guests in the stands.

"Holy shit," you breathe in awe, laughing in disbelief still. "He did it. He really won."

"That's so cool!" Natalie gushes. "I'm so happy he won."

"You and me both."

You take your seat and then ten minutes later the National Anthem is being played, followed by the school songs. You clap along when appropriate and cheer for the football team when they run on the field, yelling for your other nephew Ivan.

The game soon starts, the high school bands do their job of keeping the crowds hyped, and you're constantly jumping to your feet to cheer on your nephew's team. It doesn't take much for Natalie and David to join in with the excitement, and while Jeff is a little more subdued you can still see he's having fun.

Just before halftime, your nephews team is leading by only three points. The visiting band is supposed to perform first, so you, your sister, David and Jeff take the moment to leave your blankets behind while getting in line at the concession stand for some hot chocolate and snacks.

This time when you're seated, you and Natalie take a seat one bleacher lower so the boys are at your backs. You and Natalie cheer on Devon who's performing in the band, and then settle back down for the third quarter. And just as the game gets underway, a small family in front of you starts to have trouble with the cold. Well the parents don't, but their children do. And feeling guilty, you unwrap your blanket from around your shoulders and tap the mother on her shoulder. She refuses the blanket at first, but after pushing it on her she accepts and wraps her children in it. They visibly sigh in content and you go back to watching the game, ignoring your sister's beaming smile directed at you.

Arms wrap around you from behind, Jeff using his blanket and body heat to keep you warm. "That was the nicest goddamn thing I've ever seen."

"I felt really bad," you mumble.

"Hashtag couple goals." Natalie laughs at David's remark, and you and Jeff roll your eyes at the camera now directed at you.

Your nephew Ivan ends up making a touchdown in the fourth quarter and his team barely pulls off the win in the end. And by the time the game is over, you're more than ready put your car heater on full blast and drive to the nearest Whataburger before going back home.

Then sitting around a table at Whataburger and fiddling with your half eaten food, you say, "I know this place isn't what you're used to, so I hope you have at least a bit of fun during your stay."

"Trust me, this is perfect," David says. "The partying kind of caught up to me and I've been meaning to take a break from it all." Natalie nods along with his assessment.

"I like a good party," Jeff then says, "but sometimes a person just needs some down time. And their best friend." He nudges you with his shoulder and you huff a laugh. "Don't think too much. We'll be happy to do whatever you want to do."

"I have a couple of interviews lined up this week, but afterwards I'm all yours."

The reunion between your dad and Natalie is a tearful one, and then a regretful one when David and Jeff hit it off a little too well with your dad and brother. David and Jeff thought their friends were bad with the sex jokes, but more often than not you and Natalie were left blushing as the boys died of laughter whenever your dad and brother did their best to embarrass you.

Your job interviews also went fairly well, but you just weren't feeling those particular hospitals. Natalie guessed you were still holding out for something in LA, but you just didn't know. You thought any hospital would do, but apparently you were picky.

The cold weather then proceeded to go away after day three, and your sister and friends regretted taking the cold for granted. Texas heat and humidity were no joke, and they finally got to experience it firsthand. Especially when a severe thunderstorm took everyone by surprise and a bolt of lightning struck a tower nearby, triggering the tornado siren. You'd never seen your sister or David look so terrified, but after a phone call from your dad that the siren was a false alarm, everyone calmed and stayed awake until the storm passed.

Natalie, David, and Jeff only have one more day with you, so they're taking full advantage of being lazy before they have to get back to work.

David and Natalie are laid back in your recliners, dozing off after a fulfilling lunch, whereas Jeff has laid out on the couch with his head in your lap as you scroll through your phone. Your phone dings with a new email and you click over to see whether it's important or spam.

Important. It's important.

"Up, up, up." You tap the top of Jeff's head until he moves, you then standing up. All three occupants of the room glance at you. "I, uh, I need to make a Skype call so please steer clear of my bedroom until I come back out."

Natalie, David, and Jeff watch you go.

"What do you think that's about?" David wonders.

Natalie shrugs. "Dunno. She'll tell us when she's done."

Nearly an hour later, the trio are anxiously waiting. They'd tried eavesdropping through the door, but unfortunately couldn't hear anything.

You finally return to the living room, expression neutral and feeling like there's been a weight lifted off your shoulders. "So," you start, startling them. "I got an email earlier. From a hospital in LA." That seems to pique their interest. "The board of directors wanted an interview with me, but since we're states apart, they had to settle for an interview over Skype."

Natalie slowly grins. "And?"

"They like me." You huff a laugh, your body relaxing as Natalie squeals. "They were impressed with my resumé, and most of that Skype call were the other nurses who'd taken over and gave me a tour of the hospital, as well as introducing me to other members on staff."

"Wait, so you got the job?" David asks, beaming.

You nod, laughing. "I got the job!" Natalie, David, and Jeff all cheer, jumping to their feet and hugging you in congratulations. "The girl whose position I'm taking over still has to finish out her contract, so I won't be starting until mid-January."

"That's awesome," David muses.

"Yeah. So I'll be spending Thanksgiving in Texas and then fly out afterward since the family is all doing something different for Christmas. I don't wanna be pulled in three different directions, and anyways I rather spend Christmas with my sister."

"Yesss! I'm so happy!" Natalie gushes.

"You and me both." You sigh. "I'm so ready to start this next chapter of my life, especially with you guys by my side."