#I’ve been on a hardware roll

[thisischeri]

instagram: cheri.png

[anemhoez]

Otherworldly…

Boothill/AFAB Reader

tags: @bokukenmakuroo

WARNINGS: unprotected sex I GUESS?? he doesn’t ejaculate and its made of fine grade silicone sooo????

A/N: in where Boothill gets a check-up 🤭 ok ok so the recent quest let us know more about him and this has been in the drafts for a while so there will be inaccuracies hehe and alot left to my imagination, yes im a robot fucker HEHE! also please imagine my man with the prettiest most perfect robot dick you’ve ever seen, lord i just know its big…oh also im not a robotics or programming expert but they’re in space and stuff im sure tech like this exists in their world SOMEHOW loll

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

“Hold still, it should only take a few seconds.” you said to Boothill as he fidgeted under your touch. “I’m ticklish doc,” he said with a sharp toothed smile as you replaced one of the many sensory devices on the metal skin at his shoulder.

“The famous interstellar galaxy ranger being subdued by a bit of tickling? Don’t let your enemies find out.” Once finished, you reattached the cover and made sure it was flush with the other metal parts of his body. He truly was a technological marvel, sleek and efficient with not one line of code or piece of hardware going to waste. You considered yourself lucky to be his technician, a job offer you were pleasantly surprised by.

“You think I’ve got enemies?” he asked with sincerity, not believing that there were people out there who actually didn’t like him, or even targeted him. “I’ve seen the reports Boot.” you quickly pulled up a program on the screen in front of you to begin configuring the new sensor.

“Thats all…alternative facts, darlin.” you simply rolled your eyes and input some commands, ignoring his silly statement. “You say your synesthesia beacon was hacked?” you asked for reassurance, not once looking away from the screen and you heard as he sucked his teeth behind you.

“It sure forkin’ was, you think you can fix it?” You knew you were a great technician, fantastic even. But taking down an IPC virus? That was something you’d need a few days to crack. “I can try,” you cocked your head to the side, your statement causing him to jump up off the examination table in excitement.

“But aside from that and the sensor malfunction, is there anything else you need looking at?” you asked as you typed quickly. “You might as well get everything looked at before you head back out.” He stayed quiet though, not answering your question but instead turning away from you.

“Boothill?” you asked turning to him, realizing he was awfully quiet for someone who just jumped up for joy. He rubbed the back of his neck, “We have, doctor and patient confidentiality right?” he asked in a low gravely voice, as if someone would be able to hear him outside of your workshop.

“Dammit boothill! I’m a mechanic not a doctor!” you exclaimed absolutely sick of him calling you by a title you didn’t have credentials for. “So no we don’t but,” you stood up and walked over to him, turning his body around in a circle looking him over to see if it was something visible on him you could fix right away. “I’m not going to go around and talk about it if that’s what you mean.”

You placed a hand on your hip, “I may not look it cause I’m usually covered in grease and keep my workshop a mess, but I do consider myself a professional you know.” he sighed and looked at you, “Of course you are! You’re one of the best machinists I’ve ever had, it’s just. Aw fudge how do I even say this?!”

He resigned himself to feeling foolish for the worries he had. “I’m uh, having trouble with…intimacy.” he finally said, meeting your eyes. “Well, I’m also not a match maker so…” you looked at him with an eyebrow raised. He sighed and held his head in his hands, “Finding a partner isn’t the issue, it’s when I’m with someone. I can’t really feel it, you understand?”

You tried to picture it in your mind. Could cyborgs even achieve an orgasm? And even if they could, could they ejaculate? The scholar in you was fascinated, but the friend and professional in you was ready to help in any way you could.

You grabbed a tool from your bench quickly and headed back towards him. “Drop ‘em.” you said matter of factly pointing to his pants and he clutched his groin in reaction to you. “You fudgin’ joking? Wait, come on now-“ he stuttered through his words as a blush formed on his face. “Boot, do you want me to help you or not?” you crossed your arms, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, you can trust me.”

He had never had someone besides the technician who affixed his broken body to metal even look down there. He hesitated but given just how important this was to him, he sighed and dropped his trousers after undoing his belt. His cock was…to say the least…impressive. It even bobbed and twitched in a way similar to that of a person made of flesh and bone. Upon seeing it through the eyes of a machinist however, you started to notice just how intricately crafted it was.

“Aeons, just what exactly were they thinking with detail like this?” you asked with a small giggle before taking his appendage in your hand and detaching it from his body. “I’m not a love machine, if that’s what you’re insinuating sweetheart.” He explained almost immediately, as if it’s something that needed defending. He shuffled back into his pants, “This iron body of mine was made for combat, and revenge.” You shrugged playfully and raised an eyebrow, “So you didn’t ask them for this cock then?” you joked, holding it in your hand and testing its weight. “Alright, alright just…see what you can do?” He huffed and pulled his hat down over his eyes in embarrassment.

You began disassembling the object, looking for any visible damage. “You keeping it clean and oiled?” you ask and he just sighs, “This is so embarrassing but yes. I perform regular maintenance on myself weekly.”

“Only weekly?” you teased and he rolled his eyes, “Okay okay, I’ll stop.” you reassembled everything and took the device over to your computer, plugging a wire into the hidden port you found

“Let’s see what…oh wow!” you yelped as you examined the device’s programming. “What an interesting piece of tech!” you said with a smile. Now you were the one blushing. “What?” he said and came over to examine the code with you, only seeing an unfamiliar mess of text. “Is it broken?!”

You input a commend into the terminal and the appendage began thrusting on its own. “Quite the opposite actually, did you know it had this many modes?” You typed away and the device now vibrated so violently it rolled off of the desk and onto the floor. “I should’ve guessed what extreme vibration meant.” you picked it up and held it with both hands.

For some reason, seeing you holding it like you were about to jerk it off made him stare. “No I didn’t, but that’s not the issue I’m having. I’m having trouble really feeling, if you catch my drift?” he said and looked away again while coughing awkwardly.

“You mean having an orgasm?” You placed the metallic phallus on the desk with a loud thud. “I can check if you have any software updates, and maybe come up with something of my own.” you turned to him, “If you don’t mind leaving it here with me to tinker with it.” you said with a playful smirk. That was all he needed to hear as he turned to head out, “I’ve never been without it for long so, just be gentle okay?” he said as he headed out. You immediately turned towards him, “Hey! Just what do you think I’m gonna do with it?!”

************

You had stayed up late the past couple of nights, modding the mechanical cock. If your professor had told you all those years ago in university that you’d be working on an interstellar cowboy’s robotic dick, you probably would’ve screamed. But here you were, losing sleep to help a client yet again. You had reviewed so many lines of code that you were even seeing it whenever you closed your eyes.

“Warming mode?” you whispered to yourself and looked over at the cock half expecting it to shoot off into the ceiling, but nothing happened. You reached out and grabbed it, feeling a light warmth to it. “Oh!” you said out loud as you held it with both hands, the warm appendage oddly soothing in your grip. You rubbed the smooth artificial skin, gunmetal gray in color and detailed with thick veins. The smoothness of it was thanks to the layer of silicone skin that felt so much like the real thing it almost scared you. Not to heavy, but not too light either, almost the perfect weight and girth. A devious fleeting thought flashed in your mind, of how it could possibly feel inside of you.

You shook the thoughts from your head immediately and put it down, finally turning off your computer and heading to bed to get the rest you so desperately needed.

************

Boothill arrived a few days later in much better spirits. “Well? How’s my pecker?” he said loudly with his arms out as he walked over to you. You shook your head and grabbed a tool to reattach it to him. “This thing’s a monster.” you said tiredly and helped him with his pants once the device was back on his body. You observed how he adjusted himself in his pants, he was no different from someone with an actual dick in that regard either. Another one of those debaucherous thoughts came to your mind as you looked him up an down. Thats when you realized just how fucking attractive he was.

“Anyway, I adjusted some things so you don’t accidentally kill anyone.” You explained the various functions and modes, telling him the restrictions you put on certain settings so no one would get seriously hurt while fucking him. “Yeah I’d hate to burn someone’s uh, insides.”

“I also wanna see if I can get your beacon working again.” You handed him a wire and he connected it to a port on his neck. You started the download and waited for the hack to work. You looked at the cowboy who was currently smiling at you.

“I can’t thank you enough doc- uh Y/n.,” You smiled back and waved him off, “It was nothing, I’m happy to help.” you started re-organizing your tools as his software updated. “Bet you’re just dying to see if it worked, I don’t mind testing it out right now.” he suggested and took his hat off, placing it on your desk gently. Of course you’d want to know if your tinkering actually worked, but you knew the only way to test it was for him to…well…pleasure himself.

“Sure, you can use the bathroom and test it out. Let me know how it felt, in detail.” you said as a slight heat crept up your body. He looked in the direction of the bathroom, a smile spreading on his lips. “Actually, I was hoping you’d want to test it out, with me?”

His words shot straight to your core, your stomach jumping with sudden anticipation. Your cheeks went flush and you hoped you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. “Are you sure? Wouldn’t that be a little uh, inappropriate?” you put down your tools and turned to look at him. You inched closer and closer, knowing you weren’t about to pass up the offer. After all, it was your duty as a scientist wasn’t it?

He chuckled and started moving closer as well, “What’s so inappropriate about making sure your hard work pays off?” He was but a breath away and reached out to grab your hand and you let him intertwine his fingers with yours, his robotic hand surprisingly gentle. “In all honesty, I thought about it while I was working on…it.” He moaned out loudly, “That’s so fucking hot.” he said, stopping when he realized he finally cursed properly.

“Looks like your beacon is fixed,” you pulled the wire from his neck gently, “Don’t go getting hacked again.” you teased and his hands came to rest on your waist. “You’ll fix me though? Won’t ya?” he leaned in, closing the small gap between you two. You moved to wrap your arms around his neck and mumbled a soft “Yes.” into the kiss as he lifted you up.

He walked the both of you to the workbench that was high enough so that you were perfectly fitted in his embrace. His strong yet gentle hands trailed up your back and under your shirt, his mouth hot on yours as the two of you shared an intense kiss.

You allowed him to pull your shirt off of you, briefly interrupting the kiss. “You’ve got such great control of your mobility module.” you said in praise and he moved in to kiss at the exposed flesh now available to him. His tongue licked a trail along your collar bones to your neck, “Can you, taste? “ He chuckled against your skin as he sucked, parting your legs before pulling away. “Sure can.” he whispered gruffly in your ear before bending down and slotting between your legs.

You hesitated a bit when you saw his sharp teeth, worried about your sensitive skin down there. But as soon as he buried himself into your cunt you threw your head back, letting the pleasure take over and the worries fade.

He moaned, the highly sensitive sensors on his tongue allowing him to fully enjoy your taste. You tugged at his hair, moving it out of his face to get a better look at him. He met your gaze and pulled away, his elongated tongue shrinking down to its regular size impressively.

“And you say you’re not a love machine,” you teased and wrapped your legs around his neck. You wiped at the corner of his mouth and he opened it to suck on your thumb, “Mmh, I can be your love machine,” he said before moving back to work his tongue along your folds. You watched it extend in real time as he dove in deeper inside of you, spreading your legs widers to get his artificial tongue as deep as he could. You felt him so deep inside, an unfamiliar but delicious feeling, making you let out a loud whimper at the intensity of it all.

He snaked his arms around your thighs, pulling you even closer while he pulled up on the skin above your pussy. “Ahh!,” you moaned out and dug your nails into his scalp desperately. The cowboy groaned deeply, lapping up what poured out of you and soon introducing his fingers to fuck you while his mouth sucked hard at your clit.

You could feel yourself coming undone as his nimble fingers curved to find your spot, fingering you hard. You soon cried out as you climaxed, writhing under his touch and clenching down on his fingers as he stood to face you.

You immediately pulled him into a kiss, pulling your bra down to finally expose your breasts to him. His hands came to squeeze the soft flesh and he pulled away, staring at them lovingly as he chuckled. “What’s so funny?” you asked looking at him while you held onto the backs of his mechanical hands as he squeezed. “I’ve just…been wanting to do this for a very, very long time.”

He pulled himself from his pants and began sliding his thick metallic shaft against your wet folds. “Fuck, I can feel how wet you are? I can’t believe it.” You patted yourself on the back mentally for your ingenuity. You moved to take him by the back of his head for another feverish kiss. He held you close, his metal abs and chest surprisingly warm against your skin. The two of you pulled away from each other with a huff after making out for a few minutes.

“You’re a fucking genius.” he praised and held your face in his hands, your face heating up at the compliment. “Thank you,” you breathed deeply and looked down at his cock that was still teasing you, desperately wanting him inside of you. “I’d love to see what else I’ve improved upon,” you said as you laid back down, opening your legs wide for him. Your hands went to your folds where you collected your slick and moved to tease your bud, “And if you’re any better than something I can manufacture on my own.”

You saw a glint in his eyes as he smiled wickedly. He took your hand from your cunt and along with your other hand, he pinned them over your head. He grunted as he finally entered you, his long hair cascading down on either side of his face as he moved in closer to kiss you.

Those thick eight inches of his robotic cock finally plunged into you, deep. You whined, the sensation feeling so familiar to the “real” thing but so much better. He growled and nipped at your bottom lip, all the while pushing in and out of you slowly.

“You curious about the modes? Or do you just want me at default?” he asked as he let go of your hands. “Surprise me.” You pulled him back to your lips and he kissed you roughly before leaning back up and pulling you towards the edge of the bench.

You watched as he lolled his head back, his body fully reacting to being inside of you. “This what I’ve been missing?” he asked rhetorically, as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “How is it?” you asked, wanting to know if your improvements worked. “Amazing, It’s so warm and tight darlin’.” he hissed as he moved his hands to grab your ankles.

“I mean- ahh!” you were cut off by a particularly hard thrust, “What are you feeling?” you asked and kissed him briefly before letting him speak again. “It feels like every one of my sensors is activating at once, an overall good feeling? I don’t really know how to-” You cut him off to kiss him again, running your tongue over his sharp teeth before pulling away. “That’s okay, it seems like the program is working, fuck!” you exclaimed as his dick brushed over that oh so sweet and toe curling spot inside of you. You looked at him with pleading eyes, “You’re fucking me so good Boothill.”

Lost in the moment and moaning against his lips, you suddenly felt his cock getting warmer inside of you. The sensation filling you with new feelings of pleasure you’d never felt before. “Risky but, fuck that feels so good.” Your words caught in your throat as he thrust into you harder. “Got somethin else for ya.” He practically growled as his cock started to vibrate inside of you.

“Oh fuck!” his pistoning inside of you sped up as you came hard, clenching down on him and causing him to moan out loudly. The cry that fell from his lips was desperate, “Fuck how did you-?!” he couldn’t stop himself as he fucked into you faster and harder, “Get tighter?!” the vibrations along with the almost brutal pounding he was giving you brought you over the edge again and this time your juices squirted all over him.

He slowed down and pulled out of you, your essence slick on his shaft and spilling out of you onto the bench. You whimpered as he pumped his fingers into you, your cunt still extremely sensitive. “And you think what I’ve got between my legs is dangerous.” He said with a smile before bringing you to stand on your wobbly legs, re-entering you from behind and meeting your lips as you turned to look back at him.

Boothill gained that sane speed from before within seconds, his cock at default as he chased whatever high he could find. “You doin ok doll?” His voice seemed so sweet and gentle against the lewd and messy sounds of his harsh backshots into you. He then pulled you further onto him by grabbing a fistful of your hair. “Yessshmmmmmuhh, its- hmmssofuckiggood.” You babbled gibberish as your response to him, just scratching at the the cold slab below you. He fucked into you faster and faster, your pussy clenching down on him as you lost yourself in the full body euphoria that overtook you.

Boothill chuckled darkly and pumped into you harder, moaning as his peak neared with every thrust. He let out an almost howl, feeling your tightness around him bringing him over into a sweet, delicious bliss that he could really feel for the first time. “Fuuuck!” he sighed and stuttered against you, leaning over and biting down your neck gently as he “came��.

“Your hard work payed off gorgeous, that was incredible.” He praised as he slowly leaned back and pulled out of you. You turned to him seeing his very satisfied and flushed face, “Incredible is an understatement,” you sighed and reached down to grab your pants, “That was, fucking otherworldly.”

You were about to put your pants back on but he stopped you. “What the hell you doin’ darlin? I’ve only fucked one hole so far,” he looked at you with intense eyes as he moved in closer. “For fuck’s sake Boothill, you’re gonna ruin me for other people!” He smiled that signature pointy smile of his and gave you a kiss on the cheek.“Thats the point.” His voice was alot lower than it usually was, a sultry and sensual tone laced within it.

“Now, on your knees.” You obliged quickly, finally taking off your bra so that you were completely bare before him. You took his cock in your mouth eagerly, looking up at him through your lashes as you took him in fully. You were proud of your work, there was truly no technician out more brilliant and luckier than you in this moment.

Now, if only you could manufacture and program a way to have him ejaculate inside of you…

A/N: i think i blacked out writing this………hes sooooooo…..i will never be normal about him thank you so much hoyo for this rootin tootin hottie 🥴 GODDDDD SAVE A HORSEEEEE!!! 🤧 i also think itd be cute to have other scenarios with him like….him learning how to love someone again and- 😭 idk i just want some angssst and like, a life with him?!?!

[jolalibrary]

7. honey cream

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seven of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.9k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. bad tool names. anxious!reader. an: can i just say a massive thank you to all those who show up EVERY SINGLE WEEK. i adore you so much. thank you. if you're new to the ride, also welcome. even if i loved this story so much, i never expected people to love it even half as much as me, never mind the love i keep getting. so thank you.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Nice forearm in your story.

Thanks, It’s this guy I met in a hardware store? We’ve been kind of seeing one another.

Oh, tell him he has a nice watch.

I’ve been told to tell you that you have a nice watch.

You’re hilarious.

I try to be.

You can say no to this, but do you want me to call you later?

That’ll be nice. I’ll be working late so I'll take a break when you do.

Tomorrow, I just need to grab some bits from the store and then I’ll be with you.

Are you sure you want to spend your day off helping me paint?

I was promised to see you in overalls, so yes.

They’re nice, but please lower your expectations.

I bet they look great on your ass.

Everything looks great on my ass.

Including my hand.

Yes, specifically when you slipped your fingers in my jeans pocket on the way to brunch.

I can’t wait to see you.

Drive safely, Butterscotch.

“I feel bad that your day off is spent painting.”

Flicking the lid off with a screwdriver, Frankie just smiles—eyes looking up at you from under his cap.

When he looks at you, you might as well be a fly irresistibly drawn to the brilliance of it, captivated by it.

He’d come in clothes that were long since paint-splattered. A set, you assume, he wears most times—an over-washed and over-loved flannel over a greying white tee, and a pair of cargos that have more pockets than you know what they could be used for.

It had been more natural when he’d arrived this time. A sweet kiss at the door, a long hug where he walks you in and his heel kicks your door shut. A muttering of 'you smell nice', into your neck—grinning over his shoulder because you’d sprayed far too much of your perfume.

“Don’t—I want to be here.”

“I think I’ll likely apologise another three times, at least, before we’re done.”

Standing, wearing a slightly twinged expression on his face, he steps over the clean trays and folded step ladders. His hand rises, turning the beak of his cap around, before he’s in front of you, staring at you before he kisses you.

Kisses you like he wishes to rid you of your worries and make your guilt wash away. Like he wants to empty your mind of things you’ve once been told, make you forget them, purge them. Fuck, his mouth almost does.

“So, rule of thumb—ceiling, walls and then kickboards, window sills.”

“Did you… Did you really just finish kissing me and immediately talk about painting?”

Grinning, he chuckles, bending down to grab a paintbrush. “Did you want me to linger on why you feel bad, or are you ready to get your hands dirty?"

You hesitate for a moment before taking the brush, fingers brushing over his. “I guess I’ll get dirty, since it’s with you.”

He seems to swallow, gaze holding yours as a soft smile tries to tug at his lips before flattening out to a line. Then, you just watch as he pours the off-white paint into the trays—its thick, glooping contents filling it quicker than you’d banked on, but he took it perfectly in his stride.

The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, forearms flexing as he tilts the larger tub until he appears content with the measurement in the tray.

You know a thumb covered in paint shouldn’t cause your throat to dry, but it does. Your mind thinking up all the places he can leave a stamp of it, a trail of it, turn you into a map showing where he’s been—over a thigh, collarbone, your —

“Race you to the end of the wall?”

Blinking, finding him already readying his roller on the blank, sun-stained wall.

Before you can respond, he's off. The roller glides smoothly across the wall, leaving a trail of fresh paint in its wake. You laugh, shaking your head at his competitive spirit before joining him, your own brush meeting the wall—cutting in.

In time, the room fills with the rhythmic sound of brushes against the wall, the occasional laughter, and gentle conversations. The room transformed over the hours, looking fresher, already a thousand times better than it had this morning with the patches off filled in holes and cracks.

Taking the brush from your hands, you step back to the middle, looking around, not initially aware of how he’s looking at you. Not until you spot a satisfied smile and a glint in his eye.

“We did good, didn't we?”

You shrug. “Think you could do better—put your back really into rolling next time.”

Shaking his head, he throws your brush into the used tray before he’s grasping, tugging, your body connecting with his in an oomph—his reflexes quicker, arms longer than you’d expected—as laughter escapes out as you slide your hand around the back of his neck.

“Thank you. For helping me.”

“Sure,” he whispers, cheek close to yours, fingers on your hip. “Have I told you how good you look in your overalls?”

Rolling your lips, you slowly turn in his hold—all set to turn his cap for him again. To whisper to him that they’re easy to remove too, that he could slide his fingers up, even slant your mouth back over his again.

But you hear his stomach. It rumbles—practically thunderous.

“I haven’t even offered you food,” you confess, words laced with guilt. “I should make you food.”

“You don’t have to…”

Fingers entwining with his, you pull him—finding him happily following, even as he mumbles about cleaning up, that the paint will dry in the tray. You don’t loosen your hold until the two of you are in the kitchen, a hand needed to open the fridge, both required to pull out some ingredients.

“You cooking for me?”

“I’m going to try, if that’s okay?”

He leans against the counter, watching you with a soft smile.

“I'd love that, baby,” he says, the affection in his voice making your heart flutter like it keeps doing.

Before you’ve even sliced the first vegetable, Frankie excuses himself—a kiss to your cheek, all domestic, normal. It not feeling weird even as he goes back to the “project room” and you hear him tidying.

Because it’s not odd in the slightest him being here.

A thing you turn over as you continue to prepare ingredients, cutting and marinating. By the time he’s returned, sporting an amused smile on his face, you’re about to begin frying things.

“Can I do anything?”

Shaking your head, you glance at him over your shoulder, finding he’s taken up his earlier spot. “Just keep me company.”

And he does. Asking you things, questions—some about your childhood, your family, friends. Every word spoken, he hangs onto. Staring like he’s making notes in his head, committing them to memory, somewhere inside that beautiful, amazing mind of his.

“Should I get used to you cooking if I come round and help you with your project?” he teases, taking a water from the fridge like you’d instructed.

“You better not get used to it,” you retort, throwing a small piece of bell pepper at him playfully. He ducks, laughing. “I batch cook most of the time—easier when you eat for one.”

His eyes follow as you move around the kitchen with a fondness in his eyes, you focusing on not burning anything. Stomach knotting itself when it comes to dishing it up, placing it down, and watching him slide into the stool.

When he takes the first bite, you swear you are frozen—unable to move, or think. Eyes just focused on his, watching, waiting, until you breathe a sigh of relief at the way his eyes light up. “This is really good, baby.”

You can't help but feel a little proud. “Thank you.”

He raises his water in a toast. “To more cooking then,” he proposes, and you laugh, agreeing wholeheartedly.

As you stick your own fork in, it's easy to find comfort in the shared silence, a contentment you continue to be amazed at. The atmosphere all at ease. There's no need for words as you both eat, side-by-side, a relatively normal thing for most, but not for you.

But, none of it feels weird, awkward. It never has—even if part of you continues to wait for it. If anything, it continues to be comfortable, right.

Even as the food effortlessly vanishes off both of your plates, it's not until you've reached your fill that you clear your throat.

“So, how often do you have Luca?”

Chewing his food, he puts down the remainder—wiping his fingers on the napkin. “It’s a weird rota. But it works? I’ll have him in the week for two nights and then overnight on a Saturday one week and then one night in the week the following and then Friday to Sunday, and then I’ll have him for three nights in the week the following. Sometimes, extra if I have time off or I want to take him to see family.”

Nodding, you take a sip of your drink.

“Does that… bother you?”

“No! No, of course not,” you grin. “He’s the most important, in all of this. It was just curiosity, I couldn’t… I couldn’t work out the pattern.”

Chewing his cheek he smiles. “You trying to work out when I’m free?”

Shrugging, you look away, aware of the heat warming your cheeks. “Well, someone did post about brunch on their Stories…”

“I remember someone else posting my forearm on theirs.”

Smiling, you plate your cutlery down. “It’s a very nice forearm.”

Shoulder nudging you, Frankie chuckles—cutlery lined up on his plate, your hand moving to take it. Sliding around the kitchen as he begins debating what part of him will appear next, a thigh, an ankle.

“I can include all of you next time, if you like?” Hand testing the hot, soapy water filling the bowl.

“Yeah?”

Licking your lips, you smile. “I don’t cook for anyone, Morales.”

Shifting to meet your gaze, his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Is that right, Rainy? I must be pretty special then.”

“You have no idea,” you reply, your voice a mere whisper but the words carry an immense weight, one you suspect has snuck out, and embedded itself into him.

You're quick to turn your back to him, hide the heat and shyness, as you carefully rinse off the dishes. Only hearing the stool shift at the last moment, the sound of his sock-covered feet padding around until he's standing behind you.

His presence is unmistakable, more so when he places his hands on your hips. “I think I'm beginning to,” he murmurs into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

You turn to face him, the plates forgotten in the sink. Looking up into his eyes, seeing a reflection of things fluttering in them.

“You better,” you say, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek, “because I'm not planning on posting anyone else’s arm for a while.”

His grin widens at your words, his hands pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. "Good, because I don't plan on trying brunch with anyone else."

And as he leans down to kiss you, he pauses, mouth hovering over yours. “Speaking of…”

Narrowing your eyes, you retract your head, soap suds sliding off your wrists.

“My friends… they want to meet you.”

His words catch you off guard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Meet...me?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

As soon as he confirms with a simple nod, you feel a tightness in your chest. An explosion in your mind. A vortex of thoughts, all overwhelming, non-stop.

Each second you try to breathe, the knot in your chest tightens, sitting, carving a bigger hole where your happiness had just been—

“Yes,” he confirms, his hands soothingly rubbing circles on your hips as though noticing your sudden tension. “I think, maybe, I’ve talked about you too much?”

Running your teeth over your lip, you feel a piece of skin. One sticking up, not as smooth as the rest. Lip balm would solve it, fix it—but you pick at it anyway, pick, pick, pick—

Running your teeth over your lip, you notice a stray piece of skin, protruding slightly, disrupting the otherwise smooth surface. Lip balm would fix it, effortlessly smooth it out—but despite knowing this, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to pick at it. Listening to him as he explains, hearing names, a day suggested. As you compulsively pick, pick, pick—

Until he says your name.

Soft. Gentle. So cautiously spoken it makes your heart do a double take as you taste copper on your tongue.

“Are you sure? I mean, I want to. I just… don’t want to intrude or anything,” you reply, and you know it’s left your mouth shaky, bathed in nerves.

Attempting to shake the suds from your hands, hoping to fling off the worries with it, you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. Mind a flurry, a snowstorm of ifs, buts and maybes.

Because meeting his friends is a significant step—a thing you’re happy about, pleased he feels the same way. Yet, you're also terrified.

Digging your hip into the counter because of it, rooting yourself as you flex your fingers.

“Hey.” His fingers gently lift your chin, forcing you to look up at him; eyes full of warmth and reassurance. "You wouldn't be intruding, baby. They're… they’re like my family and… I want them to meet the person I can’t stop thinking about.”

Shoulders sliding down from your ears, you move to rest your hands on his waist. “You really talk about me that much?”

Scrunching his nose, he smiles. “A bit.”

“Okay,” you agree, your voice sounding more confident than you feel. “I'll meet your friends.”

“Great,” he grins, his relief evident. He pulls you close, hugging you tightly. “Benny—the one who fights—that's who we'll be supporting.”

“When?”

He frowns, but vanishes it away as though realising you hadn't been listening. “Not this weekend, but next. They’re going to love you, I promise.”

“I hope so,” you whisper into his chest, your heart rate trying its best to slow down.

I need you to tell me what I need to do with the office room, if your friends happen to not like me. They’re going to like you. But if they don’t. Rainy, they will. Introducing you is more so they don’t think I’ve made you up. You have a habit of making up people? No. But apparently, the way I talk about you makes it seem like you’re made up. Why? Because you’re perfect. I am not. You are, but let’s have that battle another day. What are you worried about?

It sits there, in your fingers. The answer to his question.

Foot kicking out at your kitchen island, laptop light illuminating your face as you roll your tongue over your lips.

Foot kicking out nervously at the kitchen island, the harsh glow of the laptop casting an eerie light across your face, you roll your tongue over your lips.

A nervous tic. One you find yourself repeating—letting it trace over the same path again and again, desperately seeking a sense of calm that seems perpetually out of reach.

The question doing its rounds, spinning and swirling: What are you worried about? What are you worried about?

Like a bell has been wrung, it blares out. The answer.

It vibrates through your bones and comes back to you in an echo. Almost a chorus: That I’m not good enough.

A thing you’ve done well to ignore, to stuff down. But now, it's crawling up out of its boxes, the tape having barely kept it down, flapping about in the whirlwind of worries in your head.

As your phone screen dims, memories flood, recalling the evidence. The words flung at you, feelings you’ve wrestled with in bathrooms at loud parties and brutal quiet nights; arguments in places that don’t feel like home and tears against brick walls that cut shoulders.

Unlocking your phone, you tighten your jaw because he's not like them. He's good, kind. A sudden unwillingness to bend to insecurity roaring inside of you as you list every good thing about him; not willing to let a good thing be ruined by things that could never happen.

Sliding your fingers over the screen, you type words that seem easier, less difficult to confess:

Living up to the stories you’ve said. No stories, just a mention of your name and apparently a smile they’ve not seen in a while.

With a mouth-closed grin, you purse your lips.

Reading over the message again and again as your teeth sneak out to bite your lip, thumbs darting out over the phone’s keyboard.

Would it be okay to pick you up? You want to pick me up? I do. Yeah, sure. I was going to offer to pick you up. I think I’d like to pick you up, and if I don’t make a fool out of myself, would you like to stay over? I’ll pack your robe.

As soon as he throws his bag into the backseat and slips into your car, you feel at ease.

The drive over to grab him had been a combination of whispered mutterings about how it was going to be fine and a mind full of all the ways it wouldn’t be.

It’s further helped when his lips press to your cheek, allowing hands to loosen on the steering wheel, and when that low voice sweeps over you as he greets you—as other words hang there unspoken.

You almost say it on sight, I've missed you.

Because you have. A week and a half of messages and phone calls sufficing, but you’ve missed his presence, his face, the chance to brush your fingers over his cheek.

“You look nice.”

Eyes widening, he stares down at himself, palms brushing out over his thighs. “Me?”

“No, the ghost you brought with you—of course, you.”

Snorting, he fastens his seatbelt. “Says you, hermosa.”

“Smooth talker.”

The drive to the fight continues with similar, gentle teasing, all comfortable conversation filling the vehicle. He begins to fill you in on the new developments in the saga of Luca’s newfound love for blanket forts rendering the living room a disaster and you about the sign-off on the work you'd been worked up over.

As you navigate the roads, excitedly sharing about how you've picked a wallpaper you like, Frankie's warm hand finds a home on your thigh, his thumb idly tracing patterns over the fabric of your jeans as he continues talking.

No smirk, nothing. Just the usual smile, as if he'd done this before.

Yet, he hasn't. Unfamiliar sensations surge through your body, catching you off guard, body all ill-prepared for the way it warms you. It almost urges you to shuffle in your seat so his hand rises north; Electricity crackles along your veins, accompanied by a tightening in your abdomen that refuses to dissipate. And, it only worsens when he coughs and his hand grips you a little tighter.

As more of the cityscape flits past your windows, you steal glances at Frankie. His profile illuminated intermittently by the passing street lights, shadows highlighting the rugged contours of his face.

By the time you're pulling into the parking lot, you wish the drive had been longer. Momentarily, you press your thighs together, for reprieve. Only doing so when his hand moves to open the door, the liveliness and music spilling out onto the sidewalk as he comes around the vehicle to take your hand.

“So, where will your friends be?”

Frankie tightens his hand on yours, leading you, holding the door open. “They’ll be in the locker room. Will is Ben’s non-official trainer.”

Nodding, you smile, letting him lead until the two of you come to a stop at the bar—him asking you what you’d like, giving you a look that says please don’t fight me as he takes out his wallet.

“You not needed there?” Shaking his head, ordering drinks as he faces his head forward but his eyes slide down to you. “And what are you, what's your role?”

“His other non-official, less present trainer.”

“You slacker.”

Shrugging, he shakes his head, paying for the drinks. “I know, so much free time to do it too.”

Grinning, you follow him to a spot out of the line, sliding your arm around his back, curling into him—the ice cubes in your plastic cup colliding in the fizziness of your drink.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Because you missed me?”

His mouth opens, parts—the tip of his tongue peeking out as you feel his chest expand before relaxing. “Yeah. Nine days was too long.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you slide your hand under his jacket, it taking a moment, more awkward than full of ease before you can fan your fingers out against him.

“Technically, it was five—if you count me half-waving to you when I came in to get a screwy.”

Almost spluttering as he takes a sip, he clears his throat, staring down. “You can’t call it a screwy?”

Narrowing your eyes, smirking away. “And why not, Morales?”

“Because suena mal... dirty,” he argues, trying to suppress a laugh.

Your eyebrow raises in question, but before you can retort, his lips are on yours, effectively silencing you. The place around you is all of a sudden silent, muted—as if no one else is around at all. The ring, the lights, and all of the people blurring into nothing, not as your fingers tease over his chin, as your mouth reminds itself what his feels like.

Pulling back, mouth hovering close to his. “So, what do I need to know about your friends? Outside of the obvious.”

The obvious is that they all served together. Frankie had explained it one night as you cooked for yourself, him on a shelf—face filling the screen as you sliced and brewed on the stove.

It was clinically given, top-level you'd been sure. Just the need to know—the need to understand.

“Well, Ben is loud—but he’s gentle. Will is a bit protective, especially since we've all been through a lot together," he begins, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand. “But they're good people. They're upfront and honest.”

“Does Harold like them?”

Tutting, he pauses as he lifts the plastic cup to his lips. “The only person Harry likes is you. And his own family.”

“I’ll be sure to drop that in conversation then. Show them I’m one stamp approved already.”

Tilting your chin up, he licks his lips—slowly, intently. “You have nothing to worry about, alright?” You nod, trying to take in his words. “I mean it.”

“Okay.”

Kissing the top of your head, Frankie keeps his arm around you. Even when Benny's name is shouted and the crowd goes wild.

I think they like me.

Are you texting me from the bathroom?

Maybe. But, I think it’s going well.

Baby, are you peeing and texting me?

No! I dried my hands and then messaged you.

So you’re leaning against a dirty wall texting me.

Are you grinning like an idiot at your phone?

Don’t answer I can see it.

Shut up.

If that’s the grin you wear when I message you, no wonder they wanted to meet me.

Basta!

You're cute when you're flustered. Can see the red climbing up your neck from here.

Come back and keep me company.

Grin a bit more and I might.

Rainy.

Fuck you're handsome, Butterscotch.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

an: while the meeting happens off-paper (haha wanted to say off-screen) all meetings won't appear like this 👀. we knew they'd love her, and in time we'll see how much. also, her texting him in the bathroom may be my fave thing she's done off her own accord (i am merely just a body and fingers when rainy begins talking to me)

[carolmunson]

carol is at the laundromat.

(reader references being formally catholic as a child.)

New guy, you think, when you shuffle through your apartment door and down the hall — spotting him at the end of it. You’d seen him once or twice before in very brief passing. You’re sure he’d never noticed, you barely noticed him. Only that mop of curly brown hair and the clink of his wallet chain.

“Oh here,” he smiles, holding the door open for you that leads into the stairs to the basement.

“I’m actually not going to the laundry room,” you smile politely but tightly.

“You sure?” his brows quirk behind his curly bangs, brown eyes landing on the laundry in your arm.

“I’m sure,” you nod, “I’m going up the street.”

“Why?” he asks, lifting his full laundry bag higher up his shoulder, “There’s laundry in the building.”

“Eh, when your panties start going missing you stop wanting to use the amenity,” you shrug, “Plus, you’re not gonna find one washer open down there right now.”

“And you are? It’s Sunday — peak laundry day,” he counters. You chuckle, shaking your head — it only makes him more intrigued.

“Maybe downstairs,” you shrug, “You new to the neighborhood or something?”

“Seven months.”

“Hmm,” you nod, “Well, if you didn’t notice yet - lot of churches over here. And if time serves me right, church starts around 9 and runs until 10; sometimes 11.”

Your head tilts toward the clock on the yellowed walls of the hallway, “So, 9:15 is the perfect time to go.”

“No way,” he grins, “I don’t know if I buy it.”

“Don’t take my word for it. Everyone’s at church and everyone who isn’t is probably hung over,” you explain, “You wanna come and see for yourself? Washers are weirdly better over there anyway.”

He looks at the stairs and then at you, then at the clock, and the rainy weather outside. The elevator dings, two people walking by with laundry bags to head down the stairs.

With a sigh, he accepts the fate, “Alright, you got me.”

You both venture out into the soft mist of a dark gray Sunday morning, your IKEA bag of dirty laundry weighing heavy on your shoulder.

“Seventh months, huh? Welcome.”

“Thanks. What about you?”

“Ten years,” you laugh, “Not in this building, this is year three. But I’ve been in the area a while.”

“Cool,” he smiles, “I never see you around.”

“I live on the first floor, so our chances of an elevator meet cute are pretty slim,” you pull at the bag again while you turn the corner, he follows suit.

“Oh true, I’m on four.”

“Jealous. Good sun?”

“Yeah,” he smirks bashfully, “Like, really good.”

“That’s good. Though, it’s a good compromise for sharing a floor with Mrs. Slattery.”

“I really thought I was on her good side,” he turns back when he realizes he’s a few steps ahead, “Three weeks in she saw me in a Dio shirt, came home to a cross on my door.”

“She is…” you roll your eyes, crossing the street to the laundromat on the corner, “Easily the most god fearing Catholic I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a lot.”

You both make your way through the door, loose on its hinges. It’s a dilapidated place, and there’s a better laundromat two more blocks down, but you’re used to this now. The owner in the corner with her earbuds in, listening to gospel while she works on wash and folds. An older man with four bags of clothing on the other side, bedding for the family.

“You weren’t kidding,” he observes the emptiness, putting his laundry over an unused washing machine. There were plenty available for the taking.

“I know,” you murmur while you load your own machine - your favorite one. Row three, four washers down. Medium sized.

He gets to work too, the hardware on his wallet chain and leather jacket jingle like change in the pockets he pulls out of his jeans and sweatpants before he tosses them in to be washed.

Locked and loaded, he stands next to you, “Do you just go back home and come back to switch?”

“I stay for the wash,” you explain, “And then once I switch, there’s a café another block over that I’ve been going to for a while. Normally get breakfast while I wait for my clothes to dry. They have the best fucking biscuits.”

“Okay, okay, I hear that,” he grins, lower lip tucking into his teeth while he pulls his frizzing curls up into a bun at the back of his head, “Mind if I join you?”

“Nah, I don’t mind,” you take a seat on one of the cracked plastic chairs against the windows walls where he follows suit, “Been here almost a year…have you like, explored the neighborhood at all?”

“Honestly?” he holds his shoulders up by his ears with a hint of embarrassment, “Not really. Hate doing shit like that alone.”

“Do you not have friends?” you ask, realizing how accidentally mean it sounds as it comes out. He laughs anyway, heartily.

“Some, not around this area though,” he finishes out with a chuckle.

“Well, I’ll show you the café, there’s a lot of stuff over there that’s pretty cool,” you assure, checking the clock.

“I believe you. I’m not in a position to be saying no to friends in the neighborhood.”

“Good,” you smile, not even caring that you look exactly how you did when you rolled out of bed this morning.

“But if the biscuits are bad, it’s over,” he teases in faux seriousness. Denim leg crossing over the other, Vans now a grey and black from the weather outside.

“You’re gonna be more mad at me over how good they are,” you cross your legging’d legs to match his posture.

“You better hope so,” he huffs playfully, “I’m Eddie by the way.”

“Eddie,” you repeat back, introducing yourself, “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m glad we didn’t have our meet cute on the elevator,” Eddie smiles, “This is much more fun.”

“Also,” he turns, “If you ever wanna see how good the sunlight is upstairs, you can come over if you want.”

[mlm-writer]

Test Ride Pt. 2 (Peter Parker x Android!Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker (TH ver.) x Android Reader (with a robovagina) Rating: Explicit Words: 1189 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 10 - Robotfucking Note: A sequel to a piece I did for kinktober 2020. Reader is a robot and has no gender. Last time reader got a robopenis and I thought it only fair to give reader a robovagina this time. Reader's chest is unmentioned. Tags: robotfucking, unnecessary use of fancy words to make it more sci-fi, at least I don't put 'quantum' in front of everything to make it science, dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, safeword ignored(?), robot tentacles as restraints, vibrating pussy, nipple play and software/hardware updates gone ' wrong'

A new HUD interface greeted you as you booted up after your last upgrade. Your physical statistics and environmental parameters were found in new places, but that mattered little. Your optics activated after a short delay, visual input now also available to you. Your creator stood before you, his lips moving, but you received no audio input. “Audio module connection failed,” you replied to whatever he said. You saw him curse, or at least that was your best prediction of what his expression conveyed. He motioned your head down. You bent at the hips, allowed him to unplug and reconnect your audio modules. 

Once the cables reconnected, you could hear Peter clearly. “Please, don’t be ruined, please don’t be ruined,” he muttered to himself. 

“All modules operational,” you informed him. He jumped at your voice, but let out a sigh of relief right after. “Awaiting command,” you added. As per usual after an update, Peter started poking and prodding your frame, confirming your sensory input was still operational. When he was done testing your basic functions, he dragged you to his bed. 

“Program D.O.M. version V, please,” he spoke nervously. You detected an increase in heart rate and blood flow to the genitals. You confirmed the break command, as it was standard protocol, before you could execute the D.O.M. program. Once the safety protocols were satisfied, you had your digits on Peter’s clothes. You unbuttoned his flannel, revealing his pale chest underneath. There was minor bruising, but a quick scan revealed no serious injuries that were contraindications to the program. You pushed him onto the bed and started running your tongue over his chest, paying extra attention to his nipples. 

Peter whimpered as you played with his chest, artificial tongue and teeth taking turns with your digits pinching his sensitive nubs. You kept track of his arousal, only stopping your onslaught once his involuntary noises got a little louder. You sat up, retracting your pelvic panel and rubbing your wet hole over Peter’s crotch. He whined as you slowly soaked through his jeans and underwear, until he could feel your wetness on his cock through his clothes. “Please, I need to be inside you,” Peter eventually moaned, his mind tethering on the edge of madness. 

He was hard underneath you, so you deemed him ready for the next stage. With superhuman deftness, you removed his clothes until he was naked on the bed. His cock protruded from his body, the tip red and leaking. You wrapped a servo around his rod, stroking slowly as to tease him. When he started thrusting into the tightness, you placed your other servo on his hip, your mechanical strength counteracting his. He was forced to only take what you gave, which was exactly what he programmed you to give. It was not enough to get him even remotely close to orgasm, but the build-up was perfect to make him start begging. Once the begging got frequent enough, you proceeded on to the next stage; you mounted him, letting his cock slide into your wet and soft hole. Peter moaned, his eyes rolling back as you rode him at a decent pace. “Please, give me more, I’ve been good. I will be even better, I swear.” 

His moans filled the room. You took his dick all the way inside and paused on top of him. “I will grant you more. However, unpermitted orgasms will be reciprocated with punishment.” He nodded, promising he would not cum. You decreased the elasticity of your inner walls, giving him a tighter squeeze as you proceeded to ride him. Your movements were quicker than before, fully intending to make him cum without permission. Peter was moaning to the ceiling, eyes squeezed closed sometimes and other times wide open. His mouth stayed wide open, tongue peeking over his lower lip. 

Just as predicted, your inner sensors detected his cum painting your inner workings. You rode him until the spurts seized. Then you planted yourself firmly on him. Tendrils extended from your body and wrapped around his appendages. “You have disobeyed my orders,” you stated as you held him down and turned on the vibrations of your inner walls. Peter wailed as his sensitive cock was forced to endure the intense vibrations. He writhed against your restraints, but not even his super strength could remove you. Just like he had begged you before to fuck him, he was now begging for your mercy. You bent your upper body, putting a servo around his throat. You put a little pressure on the blood vessels below his jaw. Tears poured down Peter’s eyes as you forced a second orgasm out of him. You detected more cum inside you as he cried out. 

After his second orgasm, you ran a scan on him, the analysis showing that he had enough. You removed your servo from his throat and turned off the stimulation or at least… attempted to. “Error: deprecated code, V-module unresponsive.” You stated, your tendrils no longer retracting and your hole vibrating on and on. 

“What?” Peter exclaimed, clearly in panic. You ran a diagnostic check, your hole trying to reboot by first ramping the vibrations all the way up, so it could be brought down again. Peter screamed during the process, his brain unable to process the stimulation. 

The tactic worked fine, but the module got stuck again at the same level of vibrations you started at. “Tendril module interfering with V-module. Attempting tendril reboot.” Peter did not perceive a word you said. As the tendrils rebooted, they lifted up a little, Peter’s body now hanging in the air except for his pelvis, where you still sat, vibrating his cock. 

Peter cried, feeling like his brain had melted away from the intense pleasure. “Stark! Stark!” He screamed the break command. You tried to terminate the program immediately, but the backlog of reboots and diagnostic checks made it impossible. Your creator, against your predictions, came again, barely a drop of cum leaving him. He kept screaming, trying to get through to you. Just after his third orgasm, you regained control of the tendrils. In a flash, they were retracted and you uncoupled the module for now. 

Peter’s cock was gradually turning limp inside of you. The poor boy was hoarse from screaming. Without the tendrils, you regained full control, the vibrations stopping instantly. “Thank you, thank you,” Peter whispered over and over as you lifted your frame off him. 

“Program D.O.M. paused,” you stated, “do you wish to continue after a delay or shall I proceed with aftercare protocols?” 

Peter laid starfish-style on the bed. His chest was heaving. He could use some aftercare, but it was hard to trust you right now. “Terminate the program all together,” he groaned, “initiate shutdown.” A second later, he was met with the sound of your vents shutting down and your pelvic plate closing to protect what was behind it. He was left in silence. As far as updates went, it still wasn’t as bad as that time Windows went from XP to Vista. He counted it as a win.  

—————

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[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.9 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 8. Chapter 10.

Plans and Arguments

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Mentions of breakdowns, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI

“Those missiles have a 100 megaton yield!”

Fives was exasperated at the new plan Krell had thrown at Rex, “We won’t even make it to the delta!”

“What can I do?” The captain met the ARC troopers eyes steadily, “I’ve tried to reason with him. Those are the orders.” 

March on the capital despite the massive missiles that rained from the sky. Fucking brilliant. 

Jesse sighed, “Great, another suicide mission.” he continued to inspect the console, typing on the screen, “The capital is too well armed.”

“Why does it seem like he has it out for clones?” Tup chimed in from where he continued to study the mechanics of the starships.

“Are we sure Krell isn’t, you know, fucking insane?” You mumbled, continuing to look at the data of the anomaly you saw earlier.

Dogma scoffed, “I think you're all overreacting,” He was steadfast in his belief in the general, “Obviously General Krell knows what he's doing. do you really think he doesn't care if he loses men?” 

Yes. you nearly responded, but opted to remain quiet. 

Jesse crossed his arms, “I’m not saying that,” He kept his voice steady, doing well at remaining calm, “But I do think his desire for victory has blinded him to the fact that there are lives at stake.”

You nodded, “Field doctors keep in contact with one another, and several doctors I knew have been killed under his command, not to mention the number of troopers,” Your hands were still as you focused on the conversation, “I’ve never seen such a high number of casualties from a single general.”

“He’s out of control!” Fives snapped, “He is not acting like the other jedi. He has no respect for us.”

I don’t think he has respect for anyone but himself. You thought bitterly. 

Rex stepped forward, trying to calm the ARC troopers ire, “Listen, I don’t agree with him either, but I don’t have a better plan.”

“What about using these starfighters to destroy the supply ship?” Fives continued, motioning to the ships that were in different stages of maintenance. 

“Our fleet has been trying, The Umbarans have it as protected as the capital.” The 501st captain rubbed his temple, clearly reaching his own limit. 

“But we've got their access codes and their own hardware,” Fives stepped up next to Jesse, looking confident. 

Rex, on the other hand, looked more surprised and hopeful, “You were able to crack it?”

“Mhm!” the ARC trooper gave a friendly punch to Jesse’s shoulder, earning a smile and a head shake from the other trooper, “We can sneak right past their blockade, get to where our ships can’t.” He clasped his hands in front of him, as if begging. 

The captain looked down and rubbed his chin, he remained silent, mentally planning and strategizing with this new information. 

Fives’ continued, as if trying to convince him, “If we take out that supply ship, then we cut off arms to the capital.”

Rex smiled, looking up and meeting his friend's eye, “This is why you’re an ARC trooper,” He put a hand on his hip, now with a proud smirk, “I’ll talk to Krell, see what we can do.” 

Fives practically cheered, and you laughed at his joyful display. The ARC troopers' energy and good mood always amazed you. 

The captain shook his head and gave a soft laugh before turning and walking out of the hangar. You, however, got up and followed him, “Captain, I don’t know where the barracks are.” you stated, with a small grin, “Can you walk me to them?” 

“Mesh’la,” he rolled his eyes but he matched your smile, “Of course.” 

Now that you two had semi-privacy, “Are you ok?” you asked him quietly. 

“Once this campaign is done, I will be.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “General Krell is…a challenging General to work with.”

You brushed your hand against his as a small sign of affection, “You’re doing the best you can given the circumstances.” 

He gave you a grateful, yet exhausted look. 

In the far distance, potentially a mile away, Umbaran missiles slammed down, exploding into a bright green and orange light. Despite how far the strike was, you could still feel the vibrations in the ground. 

“Damnit, they never give up.” Rex sighed, “This won’t stop until that supply ship is taken care of.”

“Hopefully Krell will listen,” You said as the doors to another section, the living quarters, of the airbase opened. 

“He hasn’t so far.” your lover led you through the halls before pressing a button next to a door. They slide open, revealing Rex’s temporary quarters and office. To the Umbarans, the private room must’ve belonged to the leader of the airbase. Once the doors closed, he held your face in his gloved hands.

“I want you to rest, mesh’la,” He murmured, kissing your forehead tenderly, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your exhaustion.”

“I can handle it.” you put your hands over his, “You and the others have been-.”

“We are built for this,” He interrupted you, “We’re clones, we can handle days without rest.”

You stared into his beautiful brown eyes, “Rex…”

“Please, mesh’la,” He whispered, “I can’t…I don’t think I can handle it if you're hurt again. Or worse.” He was pleading with you, gaze filled with an emotional desperation. It was rare to see him so unsteady. So unsure and even…afraid.

Your lovely captain was in despair. Yes, you’ve lost soldiers, but Rex has lost brothers. 

You moved your hand and stroked his cheek, “Ok…” your words were soft, “Alright Rex, I’ll get some rest.” 

He let out a small, relieved breath before kissing your forehead again, “Thank you.” 

As promised, you allowed yourself to sleep once he was gone again. It was comical how as soon as you laid down on the stiff bed, you were completely out. It felt like your brain just turned off. You didn’t even dream, so exhausted your consciousness just faded out of existence. 

When you awoke, it was due to yelling.

“Where is the honor in marching blindly to our deaths?!”

Fives.

You groggily sat up, rubbing your face in your hands with a pounding headache. You could hear Rex respond, but his voice was quieter and much calmer. It was hard to make out the words. 

However, you heard Fives loud and clear through the door, “I'm sorry. I cannot just follow orders when I know they're wrong! Especially when lives are at stake!”

Your lover answered him, and again, he was quiet. 

“I do support it. I do!” Fives was angry and frustrated, that much was clear, “But I am not just another number! None of us are!”

You admired the ARC trooper for his independence. He was a powerhouse on the battlefield and never backed down. Your friend was a very rebellious, free thinker, but intelligent enough to know when to fall in line. 

He was a good friend who you loved dearly. 

Surprisingly, you heard Rex’s voice, “Fives, where are you going?”

The ARC trooper responded with something, but you couldn’t hear him clearly that time. 

You sighed and stood, stretching your arms over your head. How long has it been…?

With a quick check of the time, it had only been a few hours. Everything was sore and you were still tired. It would take more than a nap to help, apparently…

The door to the captains quarters opened and Rex seemed surprised to see you, “You should still be asleep.” He approached to kiss your cheek. 

“I heard yelling. Is everything ok?” You asked, leaning into the peck. 

“The march on the capital will continue as originally planned.” He sighed, “the men are understandably against it.”

“You are too.” You pointed out. 

He nodded, looking downright tired, “I am, and if we had the time and the training, I’d go along with Fives’ plan. I know General Skywalker would with no question. But Krell has orders.”

You pet your lover’s cheek, “Rex, would you really follow every single order Krell gives?” 

“I am duty bound to follow.” He responded.

“Even if you know they’re wrong?” 

“I…” the captain sighed, “I believe in the Republic. I would fight and die for it without question.”

He’s avoiding the question. Pushing too hard might stress him further. You leaned forward and kissed his forehead, “You're a good soldier, Rex. but you're also a man with your own thoughts and feelings.”

He melted under your touch, “Without you, I’d probably have gone insane by now.” he mumbled, earning a small giggle from you. 

“You’re doing the best you can,” Your words were tender and filled with love, “I need to check on the med bay, but I want you to get some sleep. Even if it's just a nap.” before he could argue, you booped his nose gently with your finger. 

Rex let out a small chuckle, “Alright mesh’la, I’ll get some rest.” He pecked your cheek before you walked out of his private quarters. Getting to the med bay was quick and easy, and as soon as Kix saw you, he nodded in greeting. 

Back to work. You were the 501st field doctor, you had a job to do, “What supplies do we have?” 

Your medic friend listed everything you had. 

Bandages, tourniquets, laser cauterizers, laser scalpel, bacta, patches, emergency suture kits

It was better than before taking the airbase, but the amount of such items was the real concern. Perhaps in a standard battle you’d be able to help everyone, but with Krell’s overwhelming need to kill as many soldiers as possible, It would be difficult. 

You swallowed, taking in the low numbers. Triage would be crucial. Managing pain wouldn’t be the priority. Save bacta for critical wounds. Sutures and bandages for anything else. 

“I’m going to talk to Krell.” You informed Kix, “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t get killed.” He called to you as you left. 

Your steps took you up to the tower. Were you nervous? Potentially. If he took a step out of line, you might end up snapping and laying a fist in his face. Your anxiety came from your lack of faith in your own restraint. You’ve hit your limit, and if the damn Jedi pushed you too far, you might break. 

Once the doors opened, you were met with Appo and Hick typing at a console while Krell looked over the Umbaran holomap. 

“Doctor,” He greeted you rather…politely, “I didn’t call for you.”

“I have concerns, General.” You stepped inside, “I am aware of the impending march on the capital, but Kix and I do not have the supplies to keep everyone alive.” 

Pong Krell looked up at you, eyes looking down right uninterested in what you have to say, “You have an extreme lack of faith in your skills, Doctor.”

“I am not doubting my skills,” You responded, tone becoming icy, “I am limited by the supplies I don’t have. I can save lives, but if I don't have the medical supplies to do so…”

The General pressed a button and the map changed. He went back to ignoring you, “And what do you propose I do about your misuse of much needed medical equipment?”

Misuse!?

You swallowed, “Respectfully, General, I think for the sake of the men, you should work with Captain Rex and think of another strategy to take the capital.”

“We do not have time!” he slammed his fist down, causing you and the other soldiers around to jump, “Every moment we waste, we are getting that much further away from taking Umbara for the Republic! Now I know your judgment is clouded by your useless feelings surrounding these clones, but winning this war is the priority!” 

“Respectfully, General,” You backed down. All that bravado you told yourself earlier melted away. He had the power to court martial you, or worse, “My…feelings are concern for my patients. I am a doctor first, before I am a soldier.”

“Is it duty you feel, or something else?” He raised his head, “You spend an awful lot of time with the Captain, don’t you.” 

Your blood ran cold. 

He knew.

Your throat ran dry. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Appo look up from his console. 

Back track. Now. 

“Captain Rex and I have known eachother since the beginning of the war,” you explained, “We are friends, and I trust him with my life.”

“Just friends?” He rubbed his chin, “Your judgment is indeed clouded, Doctor. Your bias is hindering your view of the reality of this war.” The volume of his voice picked up until he was damn near shouting at you, “You can’t have friends on the battlefield! If you worry about those clones, you’ll never achieve victory!” 

Wrath burned under your skin. You wanted to shout back, but you didn’t have Fives’ courage, “I understand General, but these men, not just Rex, have protected me. Saved my life on the battlefield. In turn I do my best to keep them alive. It’s my duty to care for them. Because of this, I am able to view things objectively during battle.”

Krell was silent for a moment before he gave a slimy smirk, “Rex, huh?” 

Shit.

“Captain Rex, sir.” you cleared your throat and you caught Hick pausing in his typing on the console, “Since we are not currently on the battlefield, It’s easy for me to forget rank and titles. Forgive me, General.”

“I suppose you call General Skywalker by his name as well,” He turned to face the window, indicating he was done with you, “I am a General, Doctor. You will do well not to make that mistake with me. You’re dismissed.”

You saluted and turned, leaving the tower as quickly as possible.

Once on the ground, you spotted Fives and Hardcase walking to the hangar where the starships were being kept. With a glance back up to the tower, you followed the troopers. 

Oh what trouble were they about to get into?

[siblingshuffle]

Sibling Shuffle: Origins

I spoofed the Archie scene as best as I could with the panels I had scripted out

I really actually like how it turned out, especially panels 2, 3, 4, and Roll in panel 7. I hope the emotions / story came across alright…

Lore Below!

This is basically how that scene went down in this version. Roll had been told before that the risk that came with replacing Blues’s core was erasing his personality. And one constant across every version of Roll I’ve come across is that Roll is very protective of her family. Considering that him actually accepting would basically be a death sentence (the risk of erasing his personality is pretty high), she volunteered in his place. Siblings protecting siblings :)

Due to inefficient energy use, Blues’s eye-screens don’t usually glow (not very bright anyway). This is why characters like Piano & Bass had their eyes still glowing in a darker setting, but Blues can have his eyes covered in shadows or shades. He’s drawn like that unless he’s having some extreme emotions that would REALLY benefit from having an eye visible to help portray it.

Clarification Edit: I would like to clarify that, because he’s a prototype, Blues has a bunch of odd coding & hardware quirks that later models don’t have. From his inability to talk about hell (the location) without being censored to his eye screens only lighting up bright enough to be visible when it serves to show an emotion, to the distinctly non-0% possibility of getting literally deleted if his failing core gets replaced, this guy is, for lack of any better description, “less polished” compared to his siblings.

Next up: Whistle

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part thirty-two

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

crossing the river of death puts you in a precarious position.

a/n: I HAVE RETURNED LOOK AT ME GO. y’all aren’t read for the end of this chapter, or what’s around the corner!! thank you all for such a warm welcome back 🤍

word count: 7.1k

warnings: y’all know the drill. no smut here.

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

You find a better rhythm. With a direction in mind, you find it easier to pull your feet through the snow, your eyes trained on the back of Joel’s head. Ellie hovers somewhere in the middle of you two, her eyes downcast, refusing to look at you. Not that you blame her.

She has every right to be pissed at you, snapping at her like that. You know she was just concerned about Joel, and by extension, concerned about what would happen to the two of you if he was gone. But it was like she had reached into your heart, yanked out your worst fear, and thrown it in your face.

Because you’re fucking worried about him.

The cold still bites. The soup left a lingering warmth in your bones, but it has since faded away, leaving you just as chilled as you were before. Your feet hurt, your back aches, every scar on your body seems to thump with every step you take.

There’s something to be said for the landscape. The snow-capped mountains and deep valleys. You’ve yet to reach the River of Death, but you find stretches of land that aren’t coated in white, and your feet are eternally grateful.

After a good few hours of walking, Joel calls you to stop and hands you the rifle, disappearing around a tree. You and Ellie sit in awkward silence for a few moments, but your mouth won’t stay shut.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you like that,” you say, stepping closer to her and nudging her with your shoulder. “I didn’t mean for it to come out that way I just…” You trail off, looking in the direction Joel went.

“You’re worried about him,” she finishes, something way too wise in her voice for a fourteen-year-old.

“More worried than I’ve ever been,” you reply, digging your hands into the pockets of your coat. “He’s not okay, and I don’t know how to fix it, and when you asked if he was dying I…” You trail off again, unable to finish that sentence. “He’s the only reason I’m alive, Ellie,” you tell her, eyes stinging, “and I mean that in every sense.”

For a moment, you consider telling her. We’re not so different, you and I. You consider showing her the bite, telling her that you get it, that in a way, you understand what she’s going through and what she’s been through. The curious part of you wonders if she’d give you her own story, if she’d tell you what happened, but the protective part of you doesn’t want to know, doesn’t think you could stomach it.

“You two are fucked up,” she tells you before you can open your mouth again, “but like, in a good way?”

You bark a laugh despite the tears crawling up your throat. “Thanks, kid.”

Joel reappears, his brow furrowed, hand curling around your elbow when he’s close enough, leaning in to drop a kiss at your temple. Ellie makes a retching noise and he rolls his eyes at her. “Let’s go.”

And you fall back into the rhythm once more.

+

Whatever rift had formed between you and Ellie, Joel can see that it’s gone as he steps around the trees, watching you two for a moment, just talking. He can’t hear what you’re saying, though the expression on his face makes him think you’re about to cry. But before he can barrel forward and jump to your rescue, you laugh, a genuine smile on your face, and for a moment, he lets himself bask in it, forgetting everything he’s feeling, everything he’s carrying.

He can still remember the first time he made you smile.

The first day he walked into the hardware store. He was struck dumb the moment he rounded the aisle and saw you standing there. Made an absolute fool of himself, tripping over his words as he asked you for a drill bit, anxiety twisting his gut when he realized you didn’t have a name tag or anything confirming you actually worked there. But you’d indulged him, assuring him you did in fact work there and helping him find what he was looking for before turning on your heel and giving him an eyeful of your ass as you walked away.

It was when he walked up to the cash. He stumbled his way through another conversation, asking you if you were new to Austin, that he hadn’t seen before. And he knew he’d have remembered you. Yours wasn’t a face he would be forgetting anytime soon.

And you smiled as you answered, your eyes flicking from his to the cash register to the drill bit he was purchasing. It was an easy smile, relaxed, just simple conversation to you. But it was the kind of smile that reached your eyes, making them crinkle at the edges, making his heart riot around in his throat.

Joel had no idea back then that he was falling in love with you on the spot, but looking back, it’s easy to see.

You had him — hook, line, and sinker — the moment you smiled.

Now, he just needs to get close to you. He grabs your elbow as soon as he’s able, pulling you against him. Your warmth envelops him like a blanket, a comfort, and he kisses your temple, inhales the scent of you. You all smell awful, granted, but it’s still there, that thread of you beneath the dirt and blood and grime.

Ellie fake-gags and he rolls his eyes. “Let’s go.”

You walk side-by-side for a while, your hand wrapped in his, covering his bad side as always. Ellie walks ahead of the two of you, boots trudging through the snow, dead rabbit dangling from her backpack. You have your new bat propped against your shoulder, careful of the barbed wire, and despite that persistent ache in his chest, he grins.

You catch him, your brow lifting in question, but he can see the shake of your lips, the blue lining the edge of them. You’re freezing. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he replies, a slight shake of his head. “You just look all badass, carryin’ that scary bat of yours.”

Your grin is bigger than his, holding the thing out in front of you. “It’s not a perfect replacement, but I’ll make it work.”

Joel squeezes your hand. “Damn right, you will.”

The sun has hidden itself behind the mountains by the time you come upon the river. The air has gotten colder and Joel can hear your teeth chattering.

“The River of Death!” Ellie declares, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Scary.”

Joel sighs as you all come to a stop, looking down at the river below. “Don’t start.” He pulls you close, tucks you under his arm, trying to give you some of his warmth. “It’s too close to dark, and we need to get  warm. There’s some caves along the river; we’ll set up camp there, cross in the mornin’.”

He looks down at you, and you just nod, burying your face in his coat.

“Good,” Ellie agrees. “I’m starving.”

“Me too,” you say, voice muffled by the leather. 

“Should’ve stolen two rabbits,” she continues and Joel shakes his head.

“We can get our own rabbits.”

“You gonna teach me how?” the kid asks, perking up at the mere thought.

Joel gives her a long stare, inhaling deeply, feeling your hand press against his back. “Just keep movin’.”

She sighs and turns on her heel, starting to walk away.

“It’s not a bad idea,” you say, peeking your face up at Joel. Your lips are almost bright blue and worry lances through him. “She knows how to shoot, she might as well know how to hunt. I should know too, y’know, in case—” You cut yourself short, eyes flaring with the unsaid words, but Ellie’s voice rings out in his head.

If you’re dead, we’re fucked.

“Come on,” he mutters, forcing himself to ignore the wheeze in his breath. “We need to get you warm.”

+

Joel picks a cave not far from the bridge that’ll take you across the river, but it’s far enough out that you’re out of sight, and he deems it safe enough to build a fire. Which you’re now sat in front of, as close as you can get without burning the ends of your hair, both sleeping bags wrapped around your shoulders. Joel made coffee and sat beside you for a good hour, rubbing his hands over your shoulders, trying to help you get warm. He only got up when the fire started to die, in search of more wood to add.

Now, he’s sat beside you, rummaging through your bag or his, you can’t be sure. You watch as he produces the roll of duct tape you’d found in the watchtower, sliding one foot in front of him as he tries to find the end of the tape. Once he does, he wraps his boot three times over, bites the edge to tear it off before smoothing the end into place.

He catches you staring as he presses down on the tape. “What is it, baby?”

You shake your head, not realizing how rapt you’d been, watching his movements. “Nothing. Just…should have tried to find boots for you before we…” You trail off, rolling your lips together. “M’sorry, is all.”

“Liv, you don’t need to be sorry,” he tells you, tossing the tape back into the bag and sliding across the ground, closer to you. “You scoured every inch of that store; I watched you do it.” He reaches down, raps his hand against the side of the boot. “They’re still intact, mostly. I can still walk. It’s fine, okay? You don’t need to be sorry.”

He wraps his arm around your sleeping bag-covered shoulders and tucks you under his arm. You sink into his warmth, the feeling finally returning to your fingers and toes. You feel him shuffle slightly, reaching into his coat, and then something silver is pushed under your nose.

“Think this’ll help warm you up?” Joel asks, and your eyes nearly bug out of your skull when you see the flask in his hand.

“Where’d you find that?” you nearly gasp, snatching it from him. You shake it slightly, feeling the slosh of liquid inside. “It’s full?”

“Nicked it from the old folks,” he admits, giving you a boyish grin that momentarily eases the worry you’re still holding onto. “Saw a few other bottles tucked away in there, they won’t miss it.”

“Joel Miller, you thief.”

His eyes are shining as he unscrews the cap, taking a quick whiff before tipping the flask up to his lips. He actually makes a face, features pinching in a scowl, and you laugh. “That’s strong.”

“Good,” you say, taking the flask as he offers it. “Then it’ll definitely keep me warm.”

He’s not wrong. The liquor burns on the way down, nearly making you cough up a lung like some college girl doing shots of tequila. But once you get one sip down, the warmth spreads through you from the inside, and you take another.

When you go for a third, Joel stops you. “Easy, tiger,” he laughs, closing the flask. “We gotta ration this shit even more than those coffee beans.”

“Good point.”

You sink back against him, warm inside and out now. Your eyes snag on his duct-taped boots and there’s a pang in your chest, but you push it away. You’ll get across the river in the morning and you’ll find something. You’ll be damned if you let him walk another day in those boots.

You can almost feel yourself dozing off against Joel’s chest when an awestruck woah! fills your ears. You glance up, spotting Ellie atop the rock she’d climbed up as soon as you’d made camp. The protective part of you wanted to bark at her to get her ass back down on solid ground, but you let her go. And now, you can see you were right to do so.

She has an obstructed view of the sky overhead. The darkness shimmers with streaks of green, the Northern Lights dancing across the stretch of black, dotted with stars. The fire crackles in front of you and Joel tosses another thick branch onto it, wrapping his arm around your waist as you adjust yourselves.

It’s Joel that interrupts Ellie’s sky-gazing, and the protective part of you is thrilled that he does. He gives a whistle and she turns, wide-eyed. “Come down from there,” he calls. “You’re gonna break your neck.”

She turns back, face tilted back up to the sky, and for a moment, you think she’ll pull the defiant teenager act and tell him to go to hell, but she doesn’t. You hear her boots touch down a moment later, snow crunching on impact, and she rounds the rock, coming to the fire and taking a seat across from the pair of you.

Joel shuffles and your eyes catch the silver glint of the flask. “What happened to rationing?” you mumble, chuckling as he tilts it to his mouth.

Ellie doesn’t miss a beat. “Can I have some?”

He shakes his head as he hands you the flask. “No.”

“What? Just to warm up,” she protests, her eyes sliding to you as you take a sip and try not to wince. “C’mon.”

You can hear Joel start to form the second no, but you beat him to it, screwing the lid on and tossing it at her. She’s beaming as she catches the flask, opening the lid and giving you both a little salute before taking a sip.

Her dramatic cringe makes you laugh and you can feel a chuckle rumble through Joel.

“Yep,” she declares, her face screwed up as she reaches across to hand the flask back to Joel. “Still gross.”

“Still?” you ask, lifting a brow.

Her eyes go wide as she looks at you. “I mean…ew.”

You bark a laugh, taking another sip after Joel. You’re suitably warmed, you decide, as the liquor slides down your throat. “Well, whatever you had before, I hope it was better than that.”

It’s silent for a moment as you all settle back. You can feel Ellie’s eyes on you from across the fire as Joel moves his arm up to your shoulders, rubbing his hand up and down your bicep. 

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah,” she starts, looking down at her lap. “Yeah, I was just…You’d be a really cool mom, Liv.”

You’re not expecting her admission, and it manages to hit you like a ton of bricks. Your body goes nearly rigid and you feel Joel tense beside you, like he’s waiting for something.

Ellie gives you a soft smile and you school your face neutral, not wanting to give away the way your mind is spinning.

“Thanks, Ellie.”

Her eyes turn back to the fire and you feel Joel’s lips near your ear. Your mind is going a million miles a minute, blood thumping through your ears. All you can think about is Emily and Henry, Sarah, the kids you’ve held so dear to your heart all these years. You’d make a cool mom. 

Yeah, you like to think you would have.

And the fierce girl sitting across the fire from you, who’s managed to worm her way into your heart, hearing her say it out loud? It’s a punch to the gut, in a good way.

“You okay?” Joel murmurs, the words barely above a whisper. You nod slightly, leaning your head against his, your hand reaching out to cover his knee, palm rubbing at his jeans.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Ellie says, her voice cutting through the crackle of the fire. “Let’s say we find the Fireflies, it all works, they draw my blood and put it through some of their fancy machines and make a cure.”

Your brow furrows slightly as you draw your legs up to your chest, still huddled against Joel. You can hear the question in his voice when he says, “Okay?”

“Then what?” she asks. “Like, what do we do?”

“Oh, it’s we?” Joel quips, and you smack his chest, lifting your head slightly to shoot him a glare.

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine, whatever, you two then. You can do anything you want. Where are you going? What are you doing?”

You sit up fully, your eyes staying on Joel. You want to hear his answer.

“It’s never been an option,” he says, meeting your gaze, clearing his throat. You can see him searching for the words, but his eyes don’t leave your face as he gives his answer. “Maybe…an old farmhouse, some land, a ranch.”

Your brows lift. It’s not the answer you’re expecting, but it paints a picture in your mind all the same. A vivid one.

“Cool,” Ellie says, a smile in her voice. “What kind?”

“Sheep,” he says, and your brows shoot up. “I would raise sheep. They’re quiet, do what they’re told.”

There’s a point to his comment and you roll your eyes, turning your head to look at Ellie, who chuckles. “Yeah, yeah, okay. So, just you and Liv and a bunch of sheep. Sounds romantic.” She reaches over and pokes you in the arm. “You’re down with the sheep ranch?”

You scoff a little laugh, turning back to Joel. He’s still looking at you, his eyes glittering in the firelight. “I go where he goes,” you say with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter to me. Sheep, pigs, chickens, whatever. I always liked horses.”

Joel pulls you back to his side, fingers curling around your wrist and tugging you against him. You go willingly, glad to be enveloped in his warmth again, slinging your arm around his waist.

“And what about you?” he asks Ellie over your head. “Where are you gonna go?”

Her face goes almost wistful as she looks up at the sky, the stars and the full moon and the glimmer of the Northern Lights. “It’s probably because I grew up in the QZ,” she starts. “Behind you, there’s ocean, and ahead of you, there’s a wall. Nowhere else to look but up. I read everything I could in the school library. Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Jim Lovell. But you know who my favourite is?”

The passion in her eyes is infectious.

“Sally Ride,” Joel answers almost instantly and your brow twitches.

“Sally fuckin’ Ride!” Ellie repeats, triumphant. “Best astronaut name ever.”

But then she catches herself. You watch it happen, see the passion and excitement give way to something solemn and heavy.

“It’ll work, right? The vaccine?”

How this kid has managed to bowl you over with her words twice in the space of ten minutes is beyond you.

“It’s a little late to start wonderin’,” Joel grumbles, and if you weren’t stuck still, you’d smack him.

“I tried, with Sam,” Ellie admits, and your breath whooshes out of your lungs. After she told you, back in the hotel bathroom in Kansas City, you never told Joel. You weren’t actively trying to keep it from him, it just…

“Tried what?” Joel asks.

Her eyes shoot to you for a moment before she answers. “I knew he was Infected. I rubbed some of my blood into his bite.” You hear Joel’s sharp inhale and Ellie’s eyes flutter close, shaking her head against his impending anger. “I know, I know, it was stupid, but…I wanted to save him.”

Joel’s gripping your shoulder so tight you can feel every finger and you snake your hand up his coat, pressing your own fingers to his ribs. “Well, I reckon it’s a lot more complicated than that,” he tells her, his voice almost soft, and something in you swells at the thread of comfort in his tone. “Marlene, she’s a lot of things, but…she’s no fool. If she says they can do it, they can do it.”

The mention of her name makes you bristle, but you play it off, ducking your head against Joel’s side. Silence settles over the camp for a moment, only the sound of the crackling fire and the wildlife echoing through the night.

You can’t tell if Ellie’s pleased with Joel’s answer or not, but she changes the subject. “I can take a watch tonight, if you guys both wanna get some shuteye.”

Joel shakes his head, his chin rubbing over the crown of your hair. “I’ll take both. Get some sleep.” He pauses as she gets to her feet, and you follow suit, grabbing the rifle from where it’s propped against the rock you’ve been leaning on. “Dream of…sheep ranches on the moon.”

Ellie nods, and you see the corner of her mouth twitch. “I will.”

She disappears into the cave where you’d set up the sleeping bags and Joel grunts as he straightens, taking the rifle when you offer it. “And what should I dream about?”

You see the question sink in, his features twisting from hard to soft in a split second. Joel slings the rifle onto his shoulder and reaches up, curling his fingers in the collar of your sweatshirt, pulling you into him. “Baby, you should dream about a ranch too,” he tells you, leaning in until your nose nudges his. “Maybe not on the moon, but a ranch. Somewhere quiet, safe, warm.” He drops his jaw, giving you a soft kiss. Soft, but urgent, the kind that makes you want to melt into him. “Big ol’ bed upstairs, so I can have you whenever I want and not fuck up my knees.”

You bark a laugh against his mouth, kissing him again, hooking a finger into his belt. “Something tells me you’ll be too busy with your sheep.”

“Nuh-uh,” he protests, shaking his head, nose brushing yours. “Never too busy for my wife.”

You roll your eyes, lifting up on your toes as you wrap your arms around his neck, another kiss pressed to his mouth. It’s deeper, more demanding on your end, though you know it’s not the place or the time. The picture in your mind grows more and more vivid as you let your mind run with it, allowing yourself to feel like it’s a possibility.

If it works.

When you finally come up for air, Joel sinks back half a step, his lips swollen, and for half a second, you feel like that young girl in the hardware store, absolutely rabid for the man before you, stealing kisses in the alleyway. “Liv,” he says.

“Joel, are you—” you say at the same time, cutting each other off. Your unfinished question hangs in the air and you wonder if the worry you just tried to chase away, tried to bury under his musings of the future, is plain as day on your face.

You don’t wait long enough to tell, reaching up to rub your thumb across his bottom lip before turning on your heel and heading for the cage, calling over your shoulder to him, “Wake me for second watch.”

+

It’s not Joel that wakes you, but a bleary-eyed Ellie. She has the rifle in her hand, and as you blink sleep away, you can see that the sky is starting to brighten. What time…?

“Joel fell asleep,” she tells you as you sit up, rubbing a hand over your face. Sure enough, you look over, and Joel is sprawled on the floor at the mouth of the cave, head propped on your backpack. “I’ve been up a couple hours,” she continues, talking around a yawn, “but I don’t know how long he’s been out for.”

As silently as possible, you get to your feet, taking the rifle from Ellie. “Go lay down,” you tell her, slinging the gun over your shoulder. “I’ve slept long enough.”

She nods, brushing past you as you head for the cave’s entrance. You crouch near Joel, put a gentle hand on his chest, just to make sure he’s still breathing. He mumbles something unintelligible in his sleep, heart thumping against your palm, and it’s proof enough. 

You rebuild the fire as you wait out the morning, the quiet sounds of the forest surrounding you. The rush of the river is faint from where you’re camped, and the sun tries to peek out around the clouds, the sky overcast again.

Maybe an hour later, Ellie re-emerges, sleeping bag wrapped around her shoulders, and parks herself next to you beside the fire. “Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, and she just grumbles, tilting her head onto your shoulder. You’re sat with the rifle between your knees, boots propped in the dirt, and you let yourself get lost in the flicker of the fire, the crackle of the logs, the far-off birdsong that makes the whole world seem less…bleak.

Every so often, Joel makes a noise, and your eyes dart over to where he’s laid out on the ground. “Still mumbling in his sleep,” Ellie whispers. Your jaw goes tight with every sound, ears perking to see if you can make it out, if he’s having a nightmare or a panic attack or—

There’s a scuffling sound, and he shoots upright, gasping.

“Liv!”

Ellie startles beside you with a quiet groan, and you get to your feet, leaving the rifle in her lap as you walk toward the cave. “I’m here, Joel,” you call, crouching before him, taking in his confused expression, the panic in his eyes. “Hey, we’re okay. Ellie woke up early and you were asleep. You never woke me up, so she took second watch and I took third.” You grab his wrist, pressing your fingers hard against his pulse. “Everything’s okay.”

He looks over your shoulder, his eyes going wide, and points at Ellie with the hand you’re not holding. “You gotta wake me up if that happens,” he scolds, pulling away from you and getting to his feet. You follow suit, putting yourself between the two of them. “You can’t do things like this, Ellie.”

“But I can,” she throws back, “and I did. You needed the sleep.”

Joel goes rigid, his jaw tight, looking at you, but you just lift a shoulder.

“I’m responsible for you,” he says, looking back at Ellie, then back at you. “Both of you.”

“Then don’t fall asleep,” Ellie retorts. “I was quiet, I checked my six, I looked for tracks, I found the high ground, and I kept watch. When I got too tired, I woke Liv up. Just like you taught me.” Pride swells in your chest and you bite back your grin. “What can I say, man? I’m a natural.”

You nearly sputter out a laugh, but Joel’s dry-as-all-hell uh-huh makes the noise die in your throat as he snatches the rifle from Ellie. They’re both quiet as he slings it over his shoulder, Ellie giving you a sideways glance, but then Joel gives her a nod, and you know it’s the closest thing she’s gonna get to an attagirl. 

“You wake me up next time,” he tells her, his brow hard, but it’s with concern, not anger. “Or Liv. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Ellie says, giving him a smug smile.

You cross your arms over your chest, watching them a moment longer before, “If you two are done, can we pack up and get this show on the road?” Joel grumbles at you as you brush past, but you just lean up on your toes as you do, brushing a kiss across his mouth. “Good morning.”

“Mornin’,” he mumbles, and returns your kiss with his own. 

+

It’s starting to snow as the bridge that will take you across the River of Death comes into view. Joel’s had you keep to the trees, and the warning shot he makes with the rifle makes your ears ring, but sends a flock of geese into the sky, their honking sure to rouse any other creatures nearby.

You wait a few minutes and…nothing.

“The River of Death,” Ellie muses, “and still no people.”

“Fine,” Joel sighs, and steps out of the tree line, the rifle still raised, ready to shoot if the need arises. You and Ellie follow him down the snowbank, and into the thicker copse of trees that leads toward the bridge. It’s oddly pretty, in a way. The wrought iron beams blanketed with snow, the trees that have started to encroach on the metal. It doesn’t so much as creak as you step onto it, the only sound is the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots.

Ellie keeps looking back over her shoulder, and you nudge her with your elbow after the third time. “We’re good,” you tell her, trying to be reassuring, and she just nods.

“I know.”

You make it across the bridge with no incident, but you’re the first to admit that the air feels different this side of the river. Still just as cold and biting as before, but…

You have no idea what’s coming.

It’s just as much walking, though you’re glad for the flatter stretch of land ahead of you. 

Joel and Ellie only keep up their comedy from the morning; at least it helps pass the time.

It starts with Ellie making some strange breathing sound. You ignore the first squeak, but when she keeps it up, you shoot her a look. “I’m learning how to whistle,” she tells you, thumb and middle finger jammed either side of her mouth.

“You don’t know how to whistle?” Joel asks, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“Does it sound like I know how to whistle?” Ellie throws back.

“…no,” comes Joel’s response, and you toss your head back and laugh.

She keeps doing it, blowing around her fingers, clearly annoyed. “Seriously though, how the fuck do you do that?”

“Talent,” he answers.

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

When she looks at you, though, you lift your hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me, I can’t do it either. Not like that, anyway.”

A bit more walking, and Ellie has put herself at the front of the pack, walking backwards as she talks to you. Well, more to Joel.

“You should teach me how to hunt.”

“Huh,” is all he gives her.

“Huh,” she repeats, dropping her voice, “like, she’s a girl, she can’t handle it.”

“You can handle the shootin’,” he tells her, speeding up to walk past her. “Not so sure about the dressin’.”

“What’s the dressin’?” she asks, and you can’t hide the way your gut rolls as a memory bubbles up.

“The part where you take the guts out.”

“Oh yeah,” Ellie breezes, so nonchalant. “Why do they call it dressing? It’s like, they should call it undressing, cuz it is, it’s like undressing from the inside.”

“Can we talk about something else please?” you shout, squeezing your eyes shut to hide your nausea. When you open them again, Joel’s looking at you, the corner of his lips twitching. “Joel, please.”

“What?” Ellie asks, looking between the two of you. “What, what is it?”

“We used to go huntin’ out near Lincoln,” Joel says, and you groan, stomping your way past them, but not going out of earshot. “Nothin’ big, just rabbits, turkeys, that sort of thing. Bill liked rabbits, and after we got back, we skinned ‘em and dressed ‘em and hung ‘em up in the garage, but forgot to tell Liv that we had.”

“Oh, gross,” Ellie cries, and you whirl.

“Not just hung up in the garage, Joel Miller, you tell the whole story.” He’s pressing his lips together, trying not to laugh, and you’re trying not to punch him. “Tell her how you left the fuckin’ bucket of guts in there, too, and then asked me to go find a wrench or something and that’s the first thing I see.”

“I think that’s the loudest I ever heard you scream, baby,” he says, chuckling around the words. “All honesty, my first thought was an Infected had gotten inside somehow, even though I knew it was next to impossible at Bill and Frank’s. I go tearing in there and she’s flat on her ass, that bucket of guts is everywhere, and she’s got her hands over her face, refusing to open her eyes.”

“I tripped,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest. “Which could have been easily avoided if you’d just told me there were dead animals strung up in there!”

“Oh, baby,” he croons, closing the distance between you and hooking his arm around your neck, dragging you into him. “You’re not really still mad about that, are ya?”

You roll your eyes, ignoring him and looking at Ellie. “I still can’t look at rabbits the same way. That one we took the other day gave me nightmares.”

Ellie just laughs.

Joel presses a sloppy kiss to the corner of your mouth and you shove at him halfheartedly. Their giggles subside and you keep on, following the river until you find yourselves standing over a—

“Dam.”

You scoff, nudging Ellie’s shoulder. “You’re just full of the puns today, aren’t you?”

“Eh, she’s no Will Livingston,” Joel says, referencing the joke book that’s been your comic relief many a night since she’d first pulled out the puns.

“Yeah, but who is?” she grins, then juts her chin toward the dam, the rushing water below. “So that thing made electricity?”

“Yeah,” Joel answers, but starts to turn away as he continues, “but don’t ask me. I don’t have a clue.”

Her eyes shift to you and you bark a laugh. “He doesn’t know, and you think I do?”

“You know, you could’ve just made something up!” she laughs, and the pair of you follow after Joel. “I would have believed you.”

You keep walking, find yourself following another river, and you’re revelling in the feeling of the sun on the back of your neck, honest-to-god warmth on your skin despite the chill in the air.

“Look at that river; it’s crazy blue.”

Ellie trails behind a little and you tap Joel’s back to get him to stop, turning back to her. “El, what is it?”

She’s stopped in place, boots planted in the snow, staring out at the water. “What if this is the River of Death? What if the other one was just…”

Joel’s brow goes hard as he pulls out the map, staring down at it as he turns slightly, angling your steps in a slightly different direction. You tug on Ellie’s sleeve, trying to get her to follow when the sound of horses fills your ears.

They’ve over the ridge in an instant, hoofbeats thudding against the snow, kicking up sprays behind them. Ellie reaches for your hand and you grab her, positioning yourself in front of her as Joel steps in front of you, trying to find an opening as the horses and their riders surround you from all sides.

“Stay behind me,” Joel grits over his shoulder at you and you look to Ellie, lifting a brow. She nods in understanding and you do your best to ignore the twist in your stomach. They have guns, you realize. All of them. Pointed at you. “Put your hands in the air,” he says, and you listen, motioning for Ellie to do the same.

The wind howls, but even it’s not loud enough to cover up the thunder of your heartbeat in your ears.

“We ain’t lookin’ for any trouble,” Joel calls out, his tone placating. “We’re just passin’ through.”

“Drop the gun,” one of the riders calls and your breath stalls as Joel does as the man says, pulling the rifle from his shoulder and setting it down in the snow. “You,” the same rider calls, his eyes pinned on Ellie, “take five steps back.”

She stares at you, fear making her eyes big and wet and you almost drop your hands while Joel tries to reason. “How ‘bout we just talk this through?”

“How about you shut the fuck up?” the rider throws back. He has his gun trained on Joel, and the one to the left of him has one trained on you.

“Okay, easy,” Joel responds, and turns slightly, looking past you at Ellie. “You’ll be okay.”

She moves back slowly, and every step she takes feels like a punch in your gut.

“You been near Infected?” the rider calls.

“There’s no Infected out here,” you respond, finding your voice somewhere amidst your terror.

“The hell there ain’t,” the rider says, shaking his head. He whistles, the sound loud and sharp, and a dog starts barking in response. Your heart has now climbed into your throat as one of the other men leads the dog forward. “Last chance for a bullet. If you’ve been Infected, he will smell it, and he will rip you up.” The dog keeps barking, and your head is a mess of noise, your heartbeat and the barking and Joel’s you’ll be okay playing on a loop. If that thing gets close to either of you, you or Ellie, then—

It stops barking as soon as the man unclips the leash, and heads for Joel first. You’re holding your breath, frozen in place, as the dog sniffs at Joel’s boots. It jumps up, plants its front legs on his waist, cocks its head to the side as it looks at him. Joel’s just looking at the riders, and you’re grateful he’s not looking your way.

Apparently satisfied, the dog jumps down from Joel and turns tail, heading back to the man with the leash. “Like I said,” Joel says, “we’ll just move on.”

But the rider isn’t having it. “Now her,” he says, pointing the gun at Ellie.

It takes everything in you not to throw yourself in front of her. Joel looks at Ellie, then you, panic blooming in his eyes as the dog starts padding toward her. At the last second, it veers off, coming toward you instead, and the scar on your side seems to throb in response.

The dog sniffs at your boots the same way it had Joel’s, jumps up and puts a paw on your stomach as it sniffs more. You keep your eyes trained ahead, refusing to look at either of them until the dog drops down at heads for Ellie.

It barks once, and then Ellie starts to giggle.

You turn to look, your frozen state melting away, and find the dog licking her face, Ellie laughing away as she pets the dog. The man whistles again and the dog darts off. Ellie gets to her feet, and you try to angle yourself in front of her again, swallowing back the anxiety that just ripped through you.

“You just bought yourself ten more seconds,” the rider says, his gun now pointed at you. Somehow you feel more at ease with a gun trained on you than you did with the Infected-sniffing dog. “What are you doin’ out here?”

“I’m just lookin’ for my brother,” Joel calls back. “That’s all, nothin’ more.”

One of the riders toward the back of the circle, a dark-skinned woman with a mask covering half her face, cowboy hat on her head, nudges her horse forward, moving past the interrogating rider. The horse trots up until there’s only a few feet between it and Joel, before she pulls on the reins to stop it.

“What’s your name?” she asks, her eyes darting between you and Joel.

“Joel,” he responds, turns slightly and gestures to you, “and my wife, Liv.”

She juts her chin in Ellie’s direction. “And the girl?”

“My niece,” you say instantly, the lie spilling out before you can stop it. You hold your hand back toward Ellie and when she takes it, your heartbeat slows.

The woman slides from her horse, coming to stand in front of Joel. “I think you three need to come with us.”

+

They give you horses. Joel takes one, you the other, and Ellie slips into the saddle behind you, her arms tight around your waist as you ride. It’s been years since you’ve ridden a horse, but the beast beneath you seems friendly enough, and responds nicely when you dig your heels in, trying to keep up with the rest of the riders.

Soon enough, the high walls of Jackson come into view. It must be thirty, maybe forty feet tall, thick logs standing upright in the snow, patrols walking the top, spotlights currently turned off but still visible. When you get close enough, one of the riders waves a bright green bandana in the air, and the gate swings inward as you approach.

You tug on the reins, slowing your horse to a trot as you pass through. Ellie tightens her grip around your waist, her cheek pressed between your shoulders, and you suck in a breath, unsure what to make of the small town that lies within the high walls.

It’s everything the QZ never was. The storefronts look like something out of a Western movie, but it works. There are people everywhere you look, and they look…healthy. Well-fed. There’s not a beaten face to be seen. Back in Boston, you couldn’t go a block without seeing someone sporting a black eye or broken limb, FEDRA’s doing or the Fireflies. But here…it’s different. It’s all different.

There are snowmen lining the streets, kids laughing and playing, but some of them stop as the crowd of horses makes its way through. Joel trails behind you some, and you still don’t know where to look, when you hear him shout.

“Tommy!”

Sure enough, there he is. Your brother-in-law stands atop metal scaffolding, helping another man hoist a beam. He sees Joel, and then you, his eyes darting between and locking on his brother as he nearly leaps down the scaffolding steps. Joel gets off the horse, passing the reins to another rider, and you follow suit, scrambling down as gracefully as you can and handing the reins to Ellie, who takes them with wide eyes.

The Miller brothers meet in the middle of the road, Joel crushing his little brother in a hug, and tears spring into your eyes as you see Tommy start laughing, hugging Joel just as tight.

“What the fuck you doin’ here?” Tommy asks, still beaming as you step up to Joel’s side. “Liv!”

He pulls you into a bone-crushing hug that you return enthusiastically. The tears fall down your cheeks as he pulls back, touching a glove-covered hand to your cheek.

“You really let this fucker drag you halfway across the country?”

“We came here to save you,” you admit, and Joel lets out a wet laugh, his lashes clumped with tears as he claps his brother on the shoulder and pulls him back in for another hug. You step back slightly, letting them have their moment. As you look back at Ellie, who’s still perched atop the horse, something catches your eye across the snow-covered street.

“Cowan?”

PREV | NEXT

[mrs-johansson]

Chapter 6 - Dark Phoenix II - Emergence of conflagration

Part 2:

We slowly moved inside, taking down guards one by one. Natasha secured the security room and Sam got the armory room.

Us 5 had successfully reached the entrance and the only thing we needed to enter was Nat’s signal of a clear path. “How are you guys doing?” I asked in the comms. “There are about 50 guards left inside. Klaue is at the top of the building,” Natasha informed us. “How’s our way inside looking?” I asked. “Just a second…” She said, clearly focused on what she was doing. “You’re clear, go get him.” “I’m planning on it.”

We made our way through each level quietly. Collected all the files we found, searching for Vibranium and Klaue.

In no time we were nearing the top floor. We were left with 7 men and Klaue. “You get the guards, I have Klaue,” I looked at the agents, and once they all nodded we broke in the door, not leaving a second for them to escape.

Our agents were on Klaue’s men quickly and I spotted Klaue at the other side of the room. “Sam get over here and collect the Vibranium, Nat get all their data from the main hardware, and send your team over here. I’ll get Klaue,” I said and ran to Klaue. As he saw me coming he held up a different-looking gun and he aimed at me. Kicked up a metal table and threw it at him, making him fall back into a door and roll down some stairs. I followed him to the stairway and before I got to him, he started running down the stairs. Sent a fireball in front of him, trying to stop him, but it didn’t bother him, and jumped over the burning area and continued running.

Trying to stop him I tried to fire at him but somehow he managed to run out of the building. I followed him closely and finally hit him with a fireball, making him fall to the ground. “Who are you working for? Who needs this much Vibranium?” I asked as I stood over the man. “A lot of people,” he said with a devilish smile. “Who are you providing this for?”

He looked behind me and the next second someone jumped at me, sending me about 100 feet away from Klaue. I rolled in the dirt making me cough. I looked up and saw a man in a black catsuit, helmet covering his head. “What the hell, man?” I got up and when I looked to Klaue’s way he was gone. “I lost Klaue,” I said in the comms. The cat man didn’t waste time and started punching me. I tried to block his moves, and when I grabbed his arm I burned him but it seemed he didn’t even notice. “Why are you stealing Vibranium?” He asked and I frowned. “Stealing? I’m trying to get it away from Klaue!” I explained while we kept fighting. “How do you know him?” He asked not even bothering to stop. “I’ve been after him for months, he’s supplying someone with Vibranium, I’m trying to find out who! Stop fucking punching me,” I said angrily and with a big kick I sent him back.

He got up and took his helmet off and my eyebrows shot up. “Aren’t you the Prince of Wakanda?” I asked and he frowned. “Yes, I am. And who are you?” He walked closer. “I’m Y/N Stark. I’m part of the Avengers.” His face dropped and looked where Klaue had been laying a couple of minutes ago. “I blew that up, didn’t I?” He asked and I spread my arms. “Yeah, kinda. This was the first time in 6 months that we had eyes on him, so thanks for that. Why did you even stop me?” I asked frustratingly. He seemed like he didn’t know the answer either. “I’m sorry, I thought you were with him.” “Y/N I think we found the person he’s supplying, you’re not gonna like this,” heard Sam over the comms. “Yeah, and I bumped into the Wankandan Prince. I’ll be there in a second,” I said then turned to the Prince. “If you’re after him, come with me,” I said and he nodded.

“So what is this cat thing? Are like a… Cat-Man?” I asked, not really sure what he was supposed to symbolize. “I’m the Black Panther. It’s been the protector of Wakanda for centuries, once I become king I’ll be the official Black Panther.” He explained. “Right and what’s your name?” “I’m T’Challa.”

Once we got up to where the team was I explained what happened and Natasha wasn’t happy at all to lose Klaue. “I can help you find Klaue if you hand over all the Vibranium you found so far. It belongs to Wakanda,” T’Challa said and Nat looked at me questioning if he was trustworthy. “That’ll work. Sam, what did you find?” I asked and he handed me some files. “Hadria Folks. She has an army of super soldiers with Vibranium armor. Klaue has been supplying her for the last 3 months,” he explained as I looked through the pictures of the armor and the amount of Vibranium she got her hands on. I looked at T’Challa and handed him the papers. “You’ve got a bigger problem than just stolen Vibranium.” He looked at the information splattered on the files and he glanced at me with a weird look. “Send your team home, you three come with me back to Wakanda, we’ll get to Klaue that way.”

We made our way to the Quinjet and I tapped Sam’s shoulder. “Take the files back to the Compound and look her up. We need every information we have on her. And look up this Black Panther guy too just to be sure,” I said and he sighed. “Why can’t I go with you? Wakanda must be so cool,” he whined and I chuckled. “You’ll get there, Wilson.”

Natasha and I followed T’Challa to his plane which looked very cool. “How did you lose Klaue?” Asked Natasha. “This guy jumped on me and when I got back up he was gone. I really hope he can get us to Klaue because if not I’m gonna be very angry.”

We got the plane and the technology was very advanced. It looked amazing. I stepped one step closer to a sand table and suddenly a blade was by my neck then I heard a gun being held up by someone. “I wouldn’t do that,” Natasha spoke and I carefully looked to my side to see the woman who was holding a long spear. I guess Natasha was holding a gun at her. “Okoye, they’re Avengers, lower your weapon,” T’Challa spoke and she took a look between Nat and I then pulled back the spear. I looked at Natasha and glanced at her gun, signaling that she should withdraw too. “Okoye, this is Y/n Stark and Natasha Romanoff. Ladies, this is Okoye, the commander of the Dora Milaje,” introduced us, the Prince. “Dora Milaje?” I asked. “Special forces of Wakanda,” said the woman with a straight and intense look.

Once we got off Natasha and I sat down, she still looked very unimpressed with the situation. “It’s gonna be fine, trust me,” I said to her and she just sighed, and I saw the look she gave me and it seemed she was trying to make an effort. “I trust you, not them,” said Natasha, and I put my hand on her thigh in a second, slightly squeezing. “Natalia, we know about Wakanda and they are trustworthy,” I explained and she looked at me with a tense expression. “She held a spear to your neck, Y/n.” “She didn’t know who we were.” Natasha sighed and leaned back in her seat. “I really hope you’re right.”

***

As soon as the jet landed T’Challa went ahead and then us two, Okoye followed behind. When we all reached the ground, I saw the King and Queen of Wakanda with two other women, one younger than all of us. “Baba,” he bowed slightly, then looked at us. “This is Y/n Stark and Natasha Romanoff, Avengers,” he said and we bowed too. “King T’Chaka, a pleasure to meet you,” I said and he nodded. “Likewise, welcome to Wakanda.” “Thank you, didn’t think this would be the reason for our first visit,” I said and he nodded. “Yes, it’s very unfortunate. In the meantime, this is my wife Ramonda, and my daughter, Shuri. And Nakia, member of the War Dogs, also the girlfriend of my son,” said the King, and T’Challa was quick to get flustered. “Now, I think we should get to work,” T’Challa said, trying to avoid the topic.

***

We made contact with Sam at the Compound and as he was on video call with us, we saw all the information on Klaue from what T’Challa and the others had so far. “We unintentionally found one of Klaue’s hiding places around six months ago. He had a full cabinet of Vibranium but we didn’t know who he was at the time. Then we went after him and retrieved over 100 million dollars worth of Vibranium in the last six months. And today was our first time locating such a big amount that led us to Klaue. Then we found out why he needs this much. Sam, what did you find?” I looked at him on the screen and the next second he sent over everything on the bigger screen in the room. “Hadria Folks, ex-KGB. She has approximately 15 super soldiers with Vibranium armor and weapons. There were multiple attacks in Europe, but nobody got them in time. Police can’t handle them obviously and Folks haven’t been seen in 2 months. Her station is said to be in Siberia, a familiar place, don’t you think?” Sam said and I looked at him immediately. “He’s not there,” I said, crossing my arms. “Who’s not there?” Asked Nakia and I just kept staring at the screen. “Another super soldier, he was a Hydra weapon until we got him and now he is hiding, keeping himself off the radar. Maybe he could help us,” I said and Sam interfered quickly. “We couldn’t locate him for a while now, how are we planning to do this?” He asked. “You haven’t been able to locate him. He sent me a letter about two weeks ago, saying he was in Romania. He’ll know where to find her. Nat and I will go to Romania, get Barnes and you find Klaue. I’ll get you all the Vibranium we retrieved. Are you familiar with super soldiers?” I turned to the Wakandans. Shuri typed it into her computer then multiple images came up on the screen. One particular picture is of James. “Captain America is one of them, right?” Asked Nakia. “Yes.” “Why not get him involved with this?” T’Challa suggested. “He’s got other stuff to deal with. And besides, I think we’ll be just fine doing this.”

After some discussion, they flew us back to the Compound and I was ready to go home. I really thought that this could be a promising opportunity for us to get more allies and maybe get James out of hiding.

“When will you pick up Rina?” Walked into my office Natasha but stopped at the door. “Dad picked her up already. I asked him and Pepper to watch her for a while. I don’t know how long this thing will last,” I explained and packed up all my stuff, ready to leave. “So, you’ll be alone?” She asked with a gentle but clearly seductive tone. My eyes lifted in her and the smirk on her face was undeniable. I began to walk past her and before I stepped out of the room, I looked her up and down. “Care to join?” Natasha didn’t answer, she just grabbed onto my hand and kissed me on the lips. “Great choice.”

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

Hay It's Getting Cold Out

“The fuck?” Ian’s words stumbled from his lips as he walked into the apartment to find straw littering all over the kitchen floor.

Mickey’s head peeked up from behind the kitchen island and he ducked back down.

“Mickey why does our apartment look like a barn?” Ian walked over to the kitchen island and found Mickey on his knees surrounded by straw and plastic storage bins.

“I’ll clean it up.” Mickey muttered as he picked a knife up and jammed it into the bin, sawing a square into it before punching it through.

“What are you doing?” Ian asked trying not to sound accusatory but not being sure if he was succeeding.

Mickey paused and looked up at Ian, “It’s getting cold out, it's going to get colder this weekend, like below twenty degrees out.”

Ian raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, and we live in Chicago, this happens a lot in the fall and winter.” 

“Well, I wanted to do something for Clawdia, but everything I was looking at was super expensive. But then I found this do it yourself thing and it would only cost about ten bucks.”

“Claudia?” 

Mickey grimaced, “Clawdia, the cat that has the missing leg that hangs out around the pool in the summer.”

“You named her Clawdia?”

Mickey groaned, “Yes I named her, yes I’ve been feeding her, and no I don’t want her to get cold this winter, so I’m making her this cat house. But when I went to ordered the straw to get delivered I thought a bale was only like a pound or two, turns out it’s a fuckton. So I’m making more than one for any of Clawdia’s friends that get cold this winter and want a nice warm box.”

Ian felt his lips curve up in a smile, “That’s so s-”

“Fuck off Gallagher.” Mickey huffed sinking back down to keep sawing at the plastic bin.

“You know if you wanted a cat-”

Mickey groaned, “Fuck OFF.” 

Ian looked at the mess and shook his head, he went to the bedroom and put his phone on the charger before digging into the closet and grabbing another knife from the closet.

He came back into the kitchen and sunk onto the floor across from Mickey.

Mickey eyed him as he grabbed another one of the storage bins and stabbed the knife into the side before sawing a line into it.

Ian glanced up at Mickey and grinned as he sawed the square out of the bin and punched it through.

Together they made six cat shelters, even with each one stuffed full of hay they still had a good amount left over.

“How about we go to the hardware store and get some wood? Make a big shelter for the rest of the hay?” Ian suggested when they finished sweeping and bagging the remainder of the straw up from the kitchen floor.

“I didn’t want to make it a big project.” Mickey sighed tying the bag up and shoving it aside.

“I know, but I’m sure we can budget it enough to make it work, besides what else would we use the hay for?” Ian asked with a laugh.

Mickey smirked, “Well, there is that fantasy about doing it in the loft of a barn in the hay.”

Ian’s laugh slipped from his face and he looked at his husband sternly, “We are NOT putting that hay in our bed.”

Mickey laughed reaching up and cupping Ian’s face with his hands, “C’mon Carrot Farmer, you know you need to make sure the stable hand is doing the chores.” 

Ian let Mickey pull him into a kiss before gripping his wrists gently, “No way. Now let’s get these ones out to Clawdia before it does get cold out.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, “Spoil sport.”

“Well we couldn’t have done that at a better time.” Ian muttered as he looked at the picture Mickey had sent him.

Clawdia the three legged cat in one of the shelter boxes with four little puffy kittens around her.

“You know, that extra room we have would make a good nursery.” Mickey mused over the phone.

“No way.” Ian’s voice was firm, but when he looked at that photo again he felt his heart melting.

“Only Clawdia, and only her kittens. And once they’re all old enough we’re getting them all fixed.”

“Glad you’re agreeable because I already brought them inside. And since we still had that hay I took out the drawers of the dresser and put some in each.”

[topguncortez]

What to Expect | Chapter 1

previous part | Masterlist | Next Part

synopsis: Jake has returned to North Island for his new permanent attention position, meanwhile you come face to face with the consequences of your last night with him.

word count: 3k

warnings: pregnancy, vomiting, cursing, smut, mentions of infidelity, fear of not being good enough, tears, Jake being afraid of feelings.

            Present Day, North Island 

            The sun felt great as Jake drove his truck down the all too familiar road towards the Hard Deck. He had only been back in North Island for about six weeks now, and had fell in love with the place all over again. The area had hardly changed over the years, it remained a lot the same, but the one thing that was different was that his passenger seat was empty. Jake looked over at it and frowned, even though the breakup was six months ago, his heart hadn’t totally healed yet. He shook his head as he pulled into an empty parking spot. The parking lot of the Hard Deck was packed, and he knew it was going to be. Twas the night before a new TopGun class was set to start, and all the aviators were out on the prowl. 

            He walked into the bar with a certain swagger in his hips, his black Ray Bans hanging from the collar of his khaki button up, the new hardware on his collar had been freshly shined. Jake had been one of three pilots promoted from the Uranium Plant mission, and was now going to be a permanent fixture on North Island. Bradley Bradshaw and Pete Mitchell had been the two other pilots promoted. Part of his new position was going to be an instructor, something that he had been dreaming of doing since he was a little boy, and the next was going to be secondary team lead. Jake felt honored that Maverick named him as a team lead. He knew he was probably everyone's last choice, but Maverick saw something different in him. 

            Jake inhaled deeply as he walked into the bar, the smell of alcohol hitting his nose. His green eyes looked around the room and landed on the spot where his team was at, crowded around their usual pool table in the back. Coyote was the first to notice his friend walking over to him and smiled. 

            “Bagman!” Coyote said. 

            “Machado,” Jake said and gave his friend a hug, “How ya been?” 

            “I should be asking you that,” Coyote said and Jake shook his head, “Things been okay?” 

            “Peachy,” Jake said, knowing exactly what Coyote was talking about. There were only two people on the dagger squad that knew about Jake’s breakup; one was Coyote, and the other one was staring him down, “Bradshaw.” 

            Bradley looked at him, and then turned back to his conversation with Bob. Jake sighed and looked down at the pool table. Jake thought that he and Bradley had somewhat worked through their issues at the end of the Uranium Mission. They both kept their promise that they made to you, and were somewhat getting along. And then the break-up happened. While Jake turned to the bottle, you had turned to Bradley as a shoulder to cry on. Jake wasn’t sure what you had told Bradley, but whatever it was, it was enough to have the two of them back on awkward sides. 

            “I need a drink,” Jake announced, and walked over to the bar.

            — — — 

            “I need a drink,” You said, leaning your head against the cool ledge of the bathtub. Alyssa, and your oldest sister, Stephanie,  stood in the doorway, looking at you questionably. 

            “I’m starting to think this is more than just the twenty-four hour bug, Y/N,” Alyssa said, getting you a glass of water and setting it down next to you. 

            “It’s going around the school,” You took the cup and sipped on it, the cool liquid settling your burning throat, “I’ve had six kiddos out this week because of it.” 

            “Yeah well, you are mistaking a vital part of this ‘twenty-four hour’ bug thing,” Stephanie spoke.

            “What, Steph?” You rolled your eyes. 

            “This has been going on for two weeks and not just twenty-four hours,” Alyssa pointed and you groaned, rolling your eyes, “Seriously, Y/N, I think this is-” 

            “Don’t,” You pointed your finger at her, “Say it.” 

            You knew that this was more than just some bug, but you were too scared to admit it. Saying what you possibly thought it was out loud, just made the whole situation seem more real. You thought that the cause of your late menstrual cycle was due to stress at school. Being a second grade teacher wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but you loved it. You woke up every day ready to go teach them something new, you looked forward to seeing them grow throughout the year. You also thought that the recent post-breakup stress might have something to do with it. 

            You were blindsided by the break-up. You thought that everything was going great between you and Jake. The two of you had just hit the five year mark in your relationship, and were assuming that any day he was going to drop down and pop the question. The two of you had bought a house together in Lemoore, adopted two cats and a dog, you two even started looking at potential wedding venues. Then, one day, Jake comes home and tells you that he cheated on you. You were in shock, at first, not believing what you had heard. You actually laughed it off, but the guilty look in his eye confirmed your greatest fears. The next day, you packed what you could in a suitcase and flew back to San Diego. You sent Jake a message to send the rest of your stuff to you. 

            “I have some tests in my bathroom,” Stephanie said. You looked up at her and furrowed your eyebrows, “What? You’re not the only one in this house who has ever had a pregnancy scare. I made Michael go out and buy me some not that long ago.” 

            “Fine, I’ll piss on the stick if it’ll make you two shut up,” You said and the two women smiled at each other. 

            “Can I be the godmother?” Alyssa asked. 

            “You can shut the hell up,” You smiled at her and reached your hands out so she could pull you up. Stephanie came back to your room quickly with a box of pregnancy tests in one hand and a water bottle in the other. You looked at the box and frowned, “I’ll be back I guess.” 

            About five minutes later, you were laying on your bed between Alyssa and Stephanie, waiting for the timer to go off. It reminded you of nights when you were younger, where you and Alyssa would lay on your other sister Gia’s bed and watch her and Steph get ready to go out. You were six years younger than Gia and eight younger than Stephanie. You and Gia never got along, always fighting and bickering, but Stephanie and you got along quite well. 

            “Can I ask the question we are probably all thinking about?” Stephanie asked. 

            You sighed, “It’s Jake’s.” 

            “JAKE’S!?” Both Alyssa and Stephanie sat up at the same time and looked at you. You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment. 

            “Hold the damn phone,” Alyssa said, climbing off the bed, “I thought we hated Jake’s guts. Jake, the man you planned your entire future out with. Jake, the man who basically led you on for five years and then cheated on you. Jake, the-” 

            “I know!” You exclaimed, pushing yourself up. You pulled your knees to your chest as you felt your chest start to tighten, “It was a mistake. . . I don’t even know why I did it.” 

            “What happened?” Stephanie asked. 

            You sighed, and laid back down on your pillows thinking back to that fateful night nearly six weeks ago. 

            — — — 

            The ocean has always been your favorite place to be, especially at night. Living in Lemoore the past three years of your life, you had longed for the day you got to move back to the ocean. Jake had always promised you for his next location, he was going to pull all the strings he could to get by the ocean. At one point, you believed him, but now, you weren’t sure if that was another lie he told you. You blinked back tears as you pulled your legs closer to your body. 

            The night was somewhat cold, the breeze off the ocean sent a chill through your body, but it was relaxing at the same time. The moon was full as it sat in the sky, and you could see the twinkling of the stars in the sky. It reminded you of nights with your father, when he’d lay in the backyard with you and point out the different constellations. 

            “How did I know you’d be here?” A voice said, and you closed your eyes. You didn’t want to hear his voice ever again. You hadn’t heard it in four months, and you were just starting to forget what he sounded like. 

            “Go away,” You said softly. 

            “I don’t like you out here at night,” Jake said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “It’s cold and-” 

            “I’m not your fucking problem anymore,” You snapped and looked over your shoulder at him, “Please, leave me alone.” 

            “Well, it’s a public beach,” Jake said, walking towards you and sitting down next to you. You turned back to the ocean, watching the waves crash against the white sand. Jake looked at the waves, trying his best to not sit and stare at you. He could smell the scent of your shampoo as the wind blew through your hair. He so badly wanted to put his arm around you and pull you into him, but he couldn’t. 

            “Why are you here?” You ask, turning towards him. The last you knew he had gone home to Texas to “clear his mind” which you knew was more than likely a lie. He hated going home, “You hate the beach, especially at night. You think the open water is scary.” 

            “I needed to clear my head,” Jake shrugged, “You always said the best place to do it was on the beach. And we used to come here-” 

            “Yeah, ‘we’, there’s no ‘we’ anymore. So you can leave,” You said and turned back towards the water.    

            “Fine. . . but I’ll drink this Buffalo Trace by myself.” 

            You paused and looked at him, “Where the hell did you get that?” 

            “My cousin in Montana,” Jake said, and put the bottle of whiskey in front of you. Your eyes went from the bottle to Jake and back to the bottle. 

            “This doesn’t mean, I don’t hate you,” You said and reached for the bottle. 

            Somewhere along the line, the two of you ended back at your parents house. Jake had to help your drunk self up the stairs and keep you from laughing too loudly. He wasn’t in the mood to have your father wake up and yell at him. He wasn’t sure where he stood anymore with him, but he imagined he wasn’t on his good side anymore. Your room hadn’t changed a day since Jake had seen it for the first time five years ago. Band posters, books, records and pictures still lined the place. The only thing that had changed was the boxes of clothes and other items that Jake had sent to you from Lemoore. 

            You flopped down on your bed with an exaggerated sigh as Jake looked at some of the things you had started to unpack. His eyes went to the picture of you and him from one of the various Naval Balls he had dragged you too. It was the night that Jake had decided he was going to marry you. And he would’ve done it, if his own fears didn’t get in the way. Jake looked over at you, and you were looking up at him, your eyes wet with tears but still so full of love. 

            “I hate you,” You whispered. 

            “I know,” Jake said back and walked over to your bed. 

            “I hate you so fucking much,” You cried and pushed yourself up to your knees. Even kneeling on the bed, Jake still had some height on you. 

            “I know,” Jake answered and brushed a strand of hair from your face. You smacked his hand away and he looked at you with hurt in his eyes. You looked at him for a second, before you started hitting his chest with your fists. 

            “I. Hate. You!” You said between hits. 

            “Stop,” Jake said, trying to grab your fists, “St-stop it!” He grabbed your wrists and you looked at him, chest heaving. You pulled your wrists away from Jake’s hands, and grabbed his collar, pulling him in for a rough kiss. 

Jake kissed you back with fevor, teeth clashing and his hands going to your hair. Your hands moved feverishly, trying to remove the layers of clothing that separate your bodies from each other. The two of you seemed to move in a rushed haze, until you were down to nothing. Jake didn’t bother with foreplay, his cock aching to be inside you. He spread your legs and leaned down, you were already wet and he smirked to himself, before spitting on your pussy. You let out a moan at the feeling of his warm spit on your cunt. Jake rubbed his cock through your slick and his spit a couple times, before lining up with your hole. Slowly, he pushed himself into you, until he was flush with your hips. The two of you letting out a gasp at the same time. 

            “Fuck, I missed your pussy,” Jake said, moving his hips slowly. He held himself up on his elbows, the metal of his dog tags dangling down between your breasts. 

            Every movement was slow and languid, your nails digging into Jake’s back. You knew this type of sex like the back of your hand, it was goodbye sex. Jake’s hand ran up your thigh and hooked over his hip, so he could hit a deeper angle. He swallowed your moans with his mouth, trying to keep you quite. He knew how loud you could get, and while he somewhat missed it, he didn’t want any interruptions. 

            “Jake, I’m gonna cum,” You cried, pulling him closer to you, if that was even possible. You weren’t sure where his body started and yours ended. 

            “I got you baby,” Jake said, leaning your head into the junction of your neck, sucking lightly on the spot that made you scream, “Fuck baby, you with me? You gonna cum with me?” 

            “Yes, Jake,” You said, your hands went to Jake’s face, turning him so you could see his face when he came.

            “Fuck, fuck,” Jake moaned, closing his eyes as hot spurts of cum filled your cunt. 

Your walls fluttered around him, your own release covering his cock. Jake rolled his hips a couple more times, helping you ride out both your highs. Jake rolled off of you and laid down next to you. The two of you laid in silence, catching your breaths and looking at the ceiling. Jake let out a sigh as he pushed himself out of bed and walked to your bathroom. You were used to Jake going and cleaning himself up and then you, but for some reason, you had an intense wave of sadness crash over you. You couldn’t help the tears that rolled down your cheeks. 

            “Baby?” Jake asked, coming out of the bathroom. His heart broke at the sight of you, pulling on your panties, shaking with tears running down your face, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He walked over to you, looking you over for any injuries he might’ve caused. You shook your head and covered your face, “Love, can you tell me what’s wrong?” 

You shook your head at the sound of that all too familiar pet name coming from his pink lips, “I don’t want you to leave,” You said, and grabbed his face, “Please, please, stay with me. Just tonight, you can leave in the-” Jake cut you off by placing a soft kiss on your lips. 

“I’ll stay,” He said and kissed your forehead, “Let’s clean you up, okay, pretty girl?” You nodded and Jake picked you up bridal style, walking you to your ensuite bathroom. He helped you clean yourself up, and got you dressed in new underwear and his shirt. He tucked you into bed, before climbing in behind you. Jake laid on his back like he usually did, and pulled you into his chest. He grabbed your leg and put it over his hips, as you laid your head on his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” You sniffled. 

“For what?” Jake asked, running his hand through your hair. 

“For not being enough,” You mumbled. 

“Look at me,” Jake said, and lifted your chin to look at him, “You have nothing to apologize for. You hear me, nothing. It was my fault. Everything. . . it’s always been my fault.” 

You placed your hand on his cheek, running your thumb over his cheek bone, “We could’ve been good.” 

“I know, love, I know,” Jake said and kissed you, “Go to sleep.” 

You nodded and settled into Jake’s warm embrace, and drifted off to sleep. 

— — — 

Alyssa and Stephanie looked at you as if you just told the greatest fairytale they had ever heard. Their minds were spinning on what to say when the timer went off. Neither of you moved at first, somewhat trying to process what was going on. But then all three of you ran towards the bathroom, pushing each other as if it was some great prize you were about to win. 

“Hey! It’s my piss covered stick,” You grumbled and elbowed your sister out of the way, “Out!” 

“But we wanna know,” Alyssa protested. 

“And you will,” You said, “Let me just have a moment, okay?” 

“Alright,” Alyssa nodded, “We’re right out here, okay?” 

You nodded and shut the bathroom door. The tests laid on a towel face down on the counter. It was crazy to believe that those three pieces of plastic held what was going to make or break your future. You felt nauseated as you walked to them, your hands hovering over the first one. You closed your eyes as you turned it over and picked it up. 

“Okay, 3. . . 2. . . 1,” You counted down and then opened your eyes, “Holy fuck.” 

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[ixhika-jsx]

## What’s a Cyber Forensic Investigator?

Master post - part 1 • part 2

You must have heard bout forensics yk investigating bout dead people who might have been killed and all

You must have seen shows on those topics too.Cyber forensic investigator is just of same kind but investigating through all types of modern gadgets.

Catching hackers and all but cooler

### The Money Talk: How Much Do They Make?

- **Cash Money**: Expect to rake in about $60k to $120k a year. If you are very much experienced and skilled then you can expect about 150k+ a year.(obv different countries and companies may have different wages)

### Companies That Want You

- **Tech Titans**: Google, Amazon, Facebook—they all have requirement for such heroes

- **Gov Jobs**: FBI, CIA—basically every spy agency wants you.

- **Cybersecurity Firms**: CrowdStrike, McAfee—so every gateway you go you gonna have opportunities everywhere.

### What Other Forensic Investigators Are There?

- **Forensic Pathologists**: Real-life detectives who figure out how someone died. Less tech, more science.

- **DNA Analysts**: The ones matching DNA samples

- **Forensic Accountants**: Following the money to catch fraudsters and scammers

- **Toxicologists**: Poison experts, figuring out if someone’s been covertly poisoned. (Yeaa yk snow white story)

### What’s the Work Environment Like?

- **The Lab**: Imagine a room filled with more screens than your gaming setup. Gadgets galore, maybe even a Red Bull or two

- **On the Move**: Sometimes you’re out in the field, collecting evidence. Think of it like collecting rare items in a game.

- **Remote Vibes**: You could be solving cybercrimes from your bed in your PJs .

### How Long Does It Take to Become One?

- **Time Investment**: About 4 years for a bachelor’s, and then 1-2 more years for a master’s if you’re going all-in. So, 5-6 years total. But hey, good things take time, right?

### What Do You Study?

- **Cybersecurity/Computer Science**: Your main jams. Think of them as the ultimate cheat codes for this career.

- **Digital Forensics**: Specialized courses where you learn to be a digital ninja.

- **Law and Ethics**: Learning how to catch the bad guys without breaking the law yourself. (You yourself don't want to be troubled obviously)

### Subjects You Need to Get Into It

- **Math**: Yep, but not the boring kind—more like coding and algorithms.

- **Computer Science**: Your go-to for everything techy.

- **Optional Nerd Points**: Chemistry/Physics if you’re into hardware forensics or just want to flex those brain muscles.

### Work Hours: What to Expect?

- **9 to 5-ish**: Standard hours if you’re working for a company, but expect some late nights or weekend shifts when big cases pop up.

- **On-Call Madness**: Sometimes you’re on-call like a digital firefighter. Cyber-attack at 3 AM? Time to suit up (or log in) and handle it.

- **Flexible/Remote**: If you’re lucky, you can work from home. Just remember, no solving crimes in your underwear during Zoom meetings!

### Interview with a Cyber Forensic Investigator

**Interviewer**: What’s a day in the life of a cyber forensic investigator?

**Cyber Sleuth**: Imagine rolling out of bed, grabbing your coffee, and diving into cases. I’m talking analyzing hard drives, sifting through emails, or tracking down cyberattack origins. Some days it’s all data, other days I’m working with law enforcement or testifying in court. Never a dull moment!

**Interviewer**: What’s the coolest case you’ve worked on?

**Cyber Sleuth**: Helping bust a phishing ring that was scamming millions. Tracked their digital footprints, caught the culprits, and recovered their loot. Felt like a total legend.

**Interviewer**: Ever seen some dark stuff, like murders?

*Cyber Sleuth**: Yeah, I’ve stumbled across some pretty grim stuff. It’s not all memes and malware—sometimes it’s serious business. But catching those bad guys makes it all worth it.

**Interviewer**: Have you ever been on the dark web?

**Cyber Sleuth**: Oh, for sure. It’s like the sketchy underbelly of the internet. Lots of shady deals. I go there when I need to, but it’s not a fun hangout spot.

**Interviewer**: How dark can a case get?

**Cyber Sleuth**: It can get really intense. I’ve worked on cases involving human trafficking and other serious crimes. It’s tough, but making a difference makes it worth it.

**Interviewer**: Any advice for someone who wants to get into this field?

**Cyber Sleuth**: Stay curious and keep learning. Tech evolves fast, so you’ve gotta keep up. And don’t be afraid to dig deep—sometimes the answers are buried in tons of data, but finding them is like hitting gold.

So if you’re into tech and have subjects like mathematics , chemistry and physics then you are all set to start your journey.i have seen ppl running for a common a job and all and they are not even specified about what they want. So just research and find out what you want.

[possibly-evil]

SO SORRY IF THIS IS AWKWARD but i wanted to send in a writing thing 😭

prompt: what if Paul and Emma swapped places with Tom in Black Friday? Like Emma is part of the doll ‘feast or famine’ crowd for. Yk, the family reasons and Paul (unaffected) essentially is just running around/running into the foster sisters and whatever the hell was happening in the mall. Dude is having a terrible time as always

(If i phrased that weirdly can i just ask for paulkins interacting with the foster sisters in a casual setting please 🙏 ty!)

yeah!!!!! love this idea sm, hope you like it :)

“You want us to do what?” Emma slammed her coffee on the table.

“Pick up a Wiggly for Tim.” Emma scoffed at Tom. Paul stood awkwardly in the corner. He didn’t want to get involved, Emma was better at arguments.

“Why would we-”

“I want to spend the holidays with my son, not waiting in line.” Tom said. Emma rolled her eyes.

“I thought we were spending the holidays together, Tom. As a family.” Tom clenched his fists.

“My son lost his family when that car crashed. I’ve never asked anything of you ever before. Do this one thing for Me. For Tim. For Jane.” Emma looked away. After a few seconds, she walked over to Paul.

“Lets go get a fucking Wiggly, I guess.” They picked up their bags.

“Emma? Where are you going?” Tim asked, poking his head into the kitchen.

“We have to go to the hardware store to pick up a new bandsaw for your dad. Merry Christmas, Tim.” Emma slammed the door shut.

-

“There's nowhere to park…” Emma said, driving slowly.

“There?” Paul asked, pointing at a large spot.

“That's where the delivery trucks dump their stuff off.”

“It’s probably fine. Let's just hurry.” They parked the car and hopped out, and began walking into the mall.

“You can’t park there.” A voice said. It was a teenager, wearing the Toy Zone uniform and smoking a cigarette. She couldn’t have been older than 19. Paul blinked a few times.

“Lex? Lex Foster?” He asked. She nodded.

“I used to babysit her and her sister,” Paul said to a confused Emma.

“Have you babysitted everybody in this town?” she mumbled under her breath.

“Do you know how many Wiggly’s they have left?” Paul asked. Lex sighed.

“The store isn’t even open yet. Not that it matters. People have been waiting outside for days. You'll be lucky if you even get in the store by noon.” Paul groaned.

“C’mon, let's at least see if we can… buy our way into line? Or something? I don't know. Let's just hurry up.” Emma walked off, dragging Paul behind her. He waved awkwardly at Lex.

“You can’t park here!” Lex called after them. They didn’t hear her. “Oh well.”

-

“Hello? Sorry, can we cut in here for… uh… twenty bucks?” Emma said, pulling some cash from her pocket. The girl in line scowled at her. She was wearing a nursing uniform. Emma vaguely remembered her from highschool.

“Hey, some people have been waiting in line for a very long time, that’s not very fair,” a blonde lady shouted from further ahead. The nurse ignored the other customer.

“No, you can’t cut. That's bribery, and it... should be illegal.” Emma opened her mouth to retaliate, but Paul stopped her.

“Emma! Emma! Over here.” She turned. Paul was pointing to- Gary Goldstien? The attorney?

“This is Gary. He’s uh- my brother. Gary, this is Emma. My…” He shrugged. Emma glared at the nurse one last time and walked to where Paul was standing.

“Hi Gary, nice to meet you. Can we cut you for twenty bucks?”

“Sure. I’ll do it for free. I’ve a lot of favors due to Paul here for taking care of my son when I'm away,” Gary said in his nasally voice. Emma smiled at him.

“Hopefully this will go by quick so we can all go home.” She muttered to Paul as they squeezed their way into line.

-

Emma tried to be quiet as the rabid customers ran by her hiding spot, the popcorn counter in the movie theater. She looked out and saw Paul skittering towards her.

“What the fuck was that?” He whispered, crouching down into the shadows with her. His face was ridden with sweat and panic.

“I-I don’t know. Everyone’s going crazy. Is Gary- where’s Gary?”

“He… I think… I think he killed a guy. I don’t know what’s happening to him- what's happening to anybody. We know these people. They’re not murderers.” Emma nodded.

“We just need too-”

Something clattered to the floor. Emma shrieked, and Paul jumped up, looking around their area. He locked eyes with a young girl, who had knocked a can off of the counter on accident.

“Hannah?” He asked her. She backed up against the wall.

“Bad blood… bad blood…” she repeated it over and over again. Paul looked at Emma, who had calmed down.

“It’s Lex’s sister.” He turned back to the frightened girl.

“Hannah? It’s me, Paul. I used to babysit you. Do you remember?” He walked a little closer to her, and she whimpered, clutching her backpack.

“Hannah… what’s in the backpack?”

“Bad. Bad. Webby says it’s bad. He’s bad. He’ll trick you! He- he…” She started crying. Emma came up to the girl and sat down next to her.

“It’s ok. It’s ok.” She let Hannah lean on her. Emma looked in the backpack quickly.

“Oh. It’s a Wiggly.” A look came over Emma’s face. A look Paul had never seen before. A look Paul didn’t like.

“Emma?” She didn’t look at him. She slowly took the bag from Hannah. The girl looked up at her with a distressed expression.

“No! No! Bad!” Emma stood up.

“Lets go Paul.”

“No! He’s bad! Black and White! Bad blood! NO!” She grabbed at the bag, and Emma kicked her legs.

“Emma!” Paul rushed to stand in front of Hannah. “Emma, this isn’t you.” Her eyes darted around.

“Tim wants this doll. He needs it. He needs it.” Paul shook his head.

“Leave the doll! We need to get out of here, get safe.” She locked eyes with him, and her gaze softened. She dropped the bag. Paul took Hannah’s hand.

“We need to find somewhere safe. Let’s go.”

-

“Emma?” Tom jumped out of the car and rushed to her. Emma ran to embrace him, and Paul shook his hand awkwardly afterwards.

“Tom, god, I'm so glad you’re here.” The mall was aflame behind them, and the few stragglers that made it out were charred and distressed. Hannah and Lex had found each other in the mall, and Paul could only hope they got out.

“I’m so sorry, Emma. I- I don’t know why I sent you to get that doll. Tim doesn’t even want it. I’m gonna get him a Nintendo or something.” They all laughed, but soon a silence followed.

“I almost lost Paul in there."

"And my... my brother..." Paul looked back at the mall. He still hadn't fully processed what had happened to Gary. Maybe he got out? Paul doubted it. He'd never see his brother again. He'd have to tell Richie. He'd have to tell his friends and family that Gary had burned in the mall after beating a teenage boy to death. He looked away from the people, and squeezed Emma's hand tighter. She continued talking to Tom.

"All this stuff, people dying... friends, family... it made me start to think…Tom, it’s time we sit down, as a family, and talk about Jane.” He looked reluctant, but nodded.

“I’m just glad you’re ok. Both of you. And I'm sure Tim will love spending the rest of Christmas with his Aunt. And Paul.” Paul gave him a thumbs up, wiping his eyes. If he could make it through today... he could make it to tomorrow. that is, if tomorrow even came.

A plane whooshed overhead.

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (11/4/2024) Episode: A Household Name

Losing his last living parent was devastating, but at least Luigi was sure that Valentina and his dads would surely be proud of his latest accomplishment.

The sales figures for his new game had started rolling in, and it was clear that it’s launch day popularity wasn’t just a flash in the pan. It looked like Watcher Tales had a chance to become a lasting part of the gaming landscape, maybe even the start of a franchise.

The good news kept coming when Luigi heard from his contact at Unorthobox. They’d loved his footage of their hardware in use at the launch party and they told him they planned to use his star power to help advertise and promote the Ubox version of the game.

Not, they were quick to assure him, it needed much help. Watcher Tales was already one of the most popular titles for the Unorthobox 2 console.

Their manager Patricia at Rainy Day corporate was equally excited about the game’s success when they next visited.

“Sales on PC are phenomenal and buzz in the community so far is mostly positive, even if players are starting to report some bugs.” She told them “There is also, of course, a lot of comparisons being made to Sims Forever. They like what you added the other game lacks Luigi, but they’re also quick to point out what Watcher Tales is missing compared to their old favorite.”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly cram 80 DLCs worth of content into my basegame” Luigi lamented “though I think we did a good job offering at initial release many key gameplay features that Sims Forever locks behind expansion packs. As for the bugs, the whole team is working on a hotfix to address the most commonly reported issues.”

“I’ve got a couple programmers just finishing up another project that can help with the patch” Patricia replied, “I want you to start focusing on those content gaps.” she smiled “You ready to send your humans on new adventures?”

Luigi grinned from ear to ear. They’d had a feeling Rainy Day would be interested in DLC, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon “Absolutely!”

Luigi had already been a household name, but with his game being played and talked about all over his fame skyrocketed to a whole other level.

“You, sir, are a global sensation” Peachy’s favorite late-night talk show host told Luigi the evening he appeared on the program to promote Watcher Tales “The people can’t get enough of these hoo-mans of yours and I want to see what all the fuss is about. Let’s head over to the pit, where my staff has promised me they have your game booted up and a little challenge prepared for the two of us. You ready?”

“Bring it on!” Luigi said with a laugh, his inner child jumping up and down for joy as he followed behind the other sim to get started.

To celebrate their success the couple sent Skye for a sleepover with Grandpa Candor and headed out for a date night.

Taking Orange’s advice, this time Luigi threw on a “celebrity disguise” to help him keep a low profile so he could enjoy the time with his lady love without distraction.  He’d been skeptical about the idea, but the simple concealment did the trick, allowing him and Noemi to enjoy dinner and a drink at the bar without constantly being interrupted by fans seeking his attention.

“This is great!” Noemi hollered over the DJ’s beats on the dancefloor after their meal. “Thanks for going incognito; I have you all to myself for once.”

“You…” Luigi replied, pulling her towards him and kissing her hard “have me today, tomorrow, and always. Thank you for putting up with the insanity. I know the attention I crave isn’t always your fave. Now, are you ready to take your personal Superstar home and try out that new toy we bought?”

“Only if you’re a very obedient Superstar” she replied with a smile, leading him away from the busy club towards a little private fun back home.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[kedsandtubesocks]

Bendecido

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

summary: Javier and the terrible, no good, very bad day (and how you now might be his reminder of better days)

word count: 4.8k

warnings & tags: post season 3 and lovestruck Javi, fluff, just extreme sweet goodness, light sexual allusions but even with that my work is 18+ only mdni

a/n: I’ve been having a tough time & just needed to write something sweet and tender and thought Javi deserves some of that too or maybe we all just do. the title of this is from the juanes song of the same name that inspired this. thank you so much for reading! also a sweet thank you to @skeletoncowboys & @lowlights for everything always

For a Friday, Javi thinks it has to be one of the shittiest he’s seen in a while.

He’s already wondering if he might be fucking cursed. 

First he spilled coffee all over himself this morning. After that his trip to the hardware store to just get one item for his dad turned into an hour long hunt with the piece of shit hardware store owner Javier swears is the devil incarnate. Then once he returned home to finish up some last minute chores, Javi caught his finger on the fence gate latch and it hurt so damn bad.

And the only thing that has been getting him through this damn ridiculous day? 

Knowing he finally is going on a date with you tonight.

And not just any type of date, he’s doing this one right because it’s with you. 

Jesus, you’re special. Javier knew it from the first time he saw you at the bar here in Laredo and you snorted at his corny joke. You rolled your eyes of course, already seeing right through him like he was a damn crystal glass.

But he likes that about you.

There’s honestly so much he likes about you. 

It’s why he wants to do this first date right. Because shit, he can’t even remember the last time he had a true first date. 

“Don’t forget to pick up flowers.” Pop repeats for the third time and Javi sighs annoyed. 

“I know Pop, I know.”

Chucho now sighs understanding to step back. Yes Javi knows he might be letting the nerves get to him, but he does appreciate his dad’s well meant support. Before he leaves, Pop pats his shoulder firmly with a fond warm smile.

“Enjoy tonight mijo, you deserve it.” Then Chucho adds-

“You deserve to be happy again.”

The words weight more than Javi can put his finger on. He can’t help but nod appreciatively at his dad.

“Thanks Pop.”

His Friday can only get better now.

When he arrives at the flower shop by the ranch, Javi can’t even be upset it’s closed. Because he proudly says fuck it and simply drives to your place. And the minute he shows up to your place and you greet him at the door, you brighten his day ten fold.

You’re beautiful, looking so pretty and dressed up that his heart skips over itself. 

Javier has to stop from leaning down and kissing you as if it’s the most natural way to greet you, as if he’s always been doing this. Him showing up to take you out, admire how gorgeous you are, and just get knocked out at how lucky he is to be by your side. 

Or maybe that’s just what Javier hopes for. That this is the consecration, the start of many more dates with so many sweet moments in between. 

“You ready to go?” Javi calmly asks, trying to hide how giddy he truly is. He’s here, with you, and he doesn’t wanna fuck it up. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” You smile and it illuminates him from the inside out. 

With that he drives you to the restaurant.

He picked this place the same day you agreed to go on a date with him a week ago. He made the reservation that night because he knew how stupidly lavish it was. 

The most elegant and fanciest restaurant in town was a daunting one. It’s why he’s in a stuffy blazer and too tight dress shoes. But for you? He wants this. He wants to wine and dine you like the lovely treat you are. Besides, a fancy first day is classic. This feels like it’s the best way to start whatever this is on the right path. He knew it couldn’t go wrong.

Except apparently when it can.

“I’m sorry sir,” the hostess sighs sadly for the second time. “But we’ve checked twice and there isn’t a reservation for Peña anywhere.”

“Are you sure?” Javi is about to scream, maybe even beg. He can’t believe this. 

“Is there even a spot at the bar open?” He’s getting desperate. Panic leaks out of his voice like a broken dam he can’t stop.

The hostess frowns, shaking her head. “I’m afraid not. We’re a packed house tonight.”

On a Friday night of course they’d be packed as hell. And of course this would happen.

“Javi, it’s okay.” Suddenly your hand gently rests against his back and your voice floats out a comforting balm. You effortlessly become a steady lifeline.

“Come on, let’s try and figure something else out.”

Javier lets you guide him out of the restaurant like a deflated balloon.

Back in his truck, the most bone aching defeated sigh leaves him as he rubs his face in his hands. There’s no way any of the other upscale restaurants Javi has in mind will have availability this late. 

Something inside him starts crumbling. He should’ve known this day was cursed to crap and just rescheduled. 

A piece of him wonders if this is the universe telling him he doesn’t deserve an actual sweet normal relationship. Like all the bad shit he’s done finally has cultivated into this bad cloud of some twisted form of karmic punishment and Javi can’t even argue with its arrival.

You’re too good, too dang smart and lovely for him.

This might be the universe just reminding him of that. 

“Javier,” your voice floats out a concerned whisper. “Javi, please talk to me.”

When he turns to look at you, he’s mentally kicking himself for making you this upset. Even if you do look adorable with your soft endearing eyes, he doesn’t want to worry you this much.

“I’m sorry cariño,” he reassures you as his hand moves to rest on top of yours. “This night…this day has just been shit. You deserve better.”

“Better?” You ask a bit confused.

“Yeah. You deserve a good first date. Not this.” Javi mutters disappointed.

A moment passes in the stillness of his truck.

“Do you…want to take me home?” Your voice comes out small and Javi swears he catches an underlying thread of disappointment.

“If you want.” He leaves the final decision up to you. 

“Javi,” you squeeze his hand and now stare directly at him. A delicate seriousness settles among your lovely features. “I’m sorry this day was hard for you. And I understand if you’re tired and want to reschedule. But…”

But?

“I’m still open to see if we can figure something out tonight.” Your voice floats hopeful and light, a delicate olive branch reaching out to him. Javi swears he feels his mouth drop open a bit in surprise.

“You still wanna go out tonight?” He doesn’t even recognize his own stunned voice. 

“Of course! And with you, definitely.” You grin playfully and it sparks a crawl of something warm against his neck. 

“Are you sure?” He offers you one final out, like he’s trying to bargain with a damn narco.

“Yes Javi I’m sure!” You laugh. “Now come on, I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat!”

His heart flutters at how warm your voice is and he squeezes your hand.

“Alright grumpy pants. Let’s get you some food before you chew off my arm.” He teases playful and you cry out without any malice as a smile tugs at your lips.

God he’s already down so bad.

It’s why he’s only thinking about how good your perfume smells in his car, how his hand still feels so warm from holding yours. Javi is so caught up in your presence that he doesn’t even let his nerves get to him.

Except when he arrives at the spot.

The parking lot stretches out among a small cluster of closed shops. Cars are already parked in various spots and in the distance, his plan for tonight glows. 

“Okay,” he begins cautiously taking off his seat belt. “I can argue how I think this place is honestly one of the best damn places in town. But, I get if this… might not be your thing or what you had in mind for a first date.”

His eyes rapidly whip to your face to gauge your reaction. 

Your eyes stare out from the window and Javi holds his breath. He waits for this day to hit the final nail in the coffin with you wanting to go home.

“You brought me to a food truck?” Your voice sounds intrigued and Javi wonders if maybe you’re staying this composed for his sake.

“…yes.” He hesitantly replies.

“Oh hell yeah!” That’s when you answer so effervescent, so excited, that it colors your voice and dances across your face. Javi swears you’ve never looked more beautiful.

Your eyes sparkling flicker to his. “Alright, let’s go!”

His heart flies out of his ass but in the best damn way. He scrambles out of his seat and rushes to open the door for you. He even slides his blazer off to keep you warm in the cool late Laredo evening air.

The music swirls to greet you and him with buoyant rhythm. Javi tells you about how he and Pop have been coming here for years, that’s it’s a favorite spot of theirs.

Javi holds your hand in line the entire time. 

“Oo, Peñita! Who’s your cute new friend?” Marco, the man who runs the window, wiggles his eyebrows curiously and Javier wants to shut the window on the old man’s face.

“Did you bring a date here?!” Marco's curiosity spikes even more as he soaks in yours and Javi’s fancy attire.

Before Javi can bark at Marco to shut up, you surprisingly jump in and answer. 

“He did!” You sound proud, so proud that your voice clutches Javi’s heart. Marco cackles an amused laugh and winks at you. Then he tunes to Javi and grins wide. 

“I like this one.” 

Me too, Javi thinks. Maybe more than he can admit even to himself.

Now Javi can’t help but watch you take the first bite. It might be weird. He knows this. But shit, he's nervous.

Sauce pools by your cheek. Your eyes light up and you beam brighter than all the damn neon lights illuminating the parking lot. 

“Holy fuck, this is amazing.” You cover your mouth from the last bit of chewing but he honestly wouldn’t even care if you spoke with your mouth full. Because right now? You really are the most beautiful force on this damn earth. 

On the hood of his truck, with his blazer around your shoulders, bathed in the fluorescent glow, Javi thinks his world melts to focus simply on you.

You and him stay in that parking lot for hours. Laughing and exchanging stories that range from the funniest holiday memories to worst date experiences.

“This…isn’t one of those bad dates right?” Javier can’t help but ask, nervous again like a damn school boy praying his crush likes him back.

You hum playfully and even pretend to be in deep thought.

“Well, so far it’s going great.” You admit light and Javi’s heart drops a bit.

“So far?” He asks as casual as he can.

“Yeah,” you begin. “I mean, just between you and me, it’s actually one of the best. Might be a top five actually. But you know what will make it the best ever?”

“What?” Javi hates how quickly he asks. You grin so big it crinkles your eyes. You nudge your face to the truck.

“If we split one of those ice cream sundaes I’ve been seeing everyone walk around with.”

Javi laughs, so warm and true that he feels it in his damn chest. He doesn’t hesitate to push himself off the truck he’s been leaning on. 

“For you cariño, I’ll get you two.”

Your laughter carries Javier all the way to order at the window and even all the way back to your place. Your hand stays in his the entire time he walks you to the door. Something echoes in him, a small ache of a thing, upset that he has to leave you. 

In the quiet space of your apartment door, Javi whispers out your name. 

“Thanks…for making tonight great. Sorry if it wasn’t what you thought it to be.” He adds still feeling a bit of shame for not giving you the elegant first date he had in mind. 

“I get it and it’s okay. But honestly, I think it turned out way better than expected.” You beam. 

“Yeah?” Javi asks soft.

“Yeah.” You smile back beautifully. 

Javi can’t help it. His hand gently cradles your face and his thumb strokes your cheek.

He hasn’t felt this way about anyone in so long. He hasn’t been caught up in someone’s orbit this fast.

So when he watches your eyes soften as they flicker to his lips, he leans down and kisses you like you’ll float away. Because he’s worried you will. You’re just so good and he doesn’t know how much time he will have with you. So he wants to stay caught up in your atmosphere for as long as he can.

Immediately he tastes the lingering sweetness on your lips of the ice cream you kept playfully stealing scoops away from him. Then he realizes, underneath that, that delicious sweetness is just you. And you taste so good, like the delicate hope of something special and Javi wants to let it consume him. Your lips are so soft and Javi continues to chase their plush warmth.

“Thank you for tonight Javi.” You whisper soft and genuine against his lips. He kisses you again. 

“You too baby.” After that Javi floats back home on cloud nine. 

When he goes to grab the drink he kept from dinner, he finds a receipt from tonight tucked into the other cup holder.

His name is scribbled on it and Javi’s heart jumps.

When he opens the receipt he finds a note.

“Thanks again for tonight! I really did have so much fun, can't wait to see more of your secret food spots!”

Javi knew he was falling for you so bad. But now here he is getting tripped up over how much he likes your handwriting. He's even getting weak over the sweet little heart you drew.

Yeah, you really did taste like a sweeter tomorrow…

“Whoever said you don’t get to eat at your wedding I hate that they were right and I want to fight them.” 

Javi snorts amused at your huffy comment then kisses your bare shoulder.

“I’m being serious Javier! We should’ve taken a plate or something to go!” You try to sound aghast but it’s hard, especially when your new husband continues kissing up your neck. You giggle in his arms.

After running around the reception hall the entire night earlier, to Javier deciding to celebrate the minute you and him stepped into the hotel room, your legs are practically jello. However, you welcome this exhaustion with a coy pleased grin. 

“We could order room service.” Your husband offers while he tenderly kisses your jaw. The two of you are tangled in the afterglow of exhaustion and pure newlywed marital bliss.

“It’s one in the morning my love, you know it’s too late.” You sigh defeated as you pray maybe there’s a bag of chips or something in your travel bag. 

“I can go get us something.” Javi suggests. Although the temptation of a delicious late night drive through dinner sounds heavenly, you don’t want to get out of this bed or see him leave.

You twist in Javi’s arms and cling to him as if to lock him to you. 

“No, I’m fine. You know I’m just being…a little grumpy.” You mutter out and Javi smirks against your forehead.

“A brat. You’re being a brat.” Javi clarifies with a bright tone. 

“No!” You argue back. “I’m just grumpy from being hungry.”

“Uh huh.” Javi says unconvinced.

“Hey, I’m a Peña now. That means I have to work on my cute grumpy pout so I can compete with yours.” You tease, leaning back in Javi’s arms to grin up at him.

You expect a semi classic Javi complaint about him not being grumpy, about him not wanting you to be grumpy. But instead his molten eyes stare down at you with something achingly tender that sweeps you up in a landslide.

“Damn right you’re a Peña now.” His voice croaks, thick and beautifully weighted down by unwavering adoration.

He swoops down and kisses you, passionate and so loving it seeps into your soul. You think this might spark another round until Javi sighs against your lips. Your poor husband, he is tired too and you know it.

It’s why he kisses you soft now once, twice, until he draws you into his chest again. 

“You know,” Javier begins lightly. “I like it when you act like a brat sometimes.” He lightly squeezes your bare ass making you squeak. 

“Naughty, naughty.” You teasingly chide him.

“I just state the facts baby.” Javi simply shrugs casual, unbothered, and you laugh. 

That ignites him to pepper playful kisses all across your face and your laughs bubble louder.

“Besides, I’m your husband.” Javier’s voice almost comes out a low growl. “I’m always gonna take care of you, especially when you wanna act like a brat.”

His voice is rich, begging you to drown in him. You pull your handsome husband’s face to yours and kiss him again. It’s all you can do and you find it’s all you want to do. You discover there is something simple, unwaveringly strong, that knocks you breathless just knowing you’re kissing the love of your life, your husband.

You can’t even stay grumpy even with how hungry you are.

“Wait here.” Javi mutters your lips. Then suddenly he untangles himself from you and slides out of bed.

Curiously from the warm sheets you watch him slip on his pants. He walks over to the side of the hotel room where all his bags and other things clutter together.

He simply grabs the brown bag folded and sitting unsuspectingly on the counter. Now you sit up, intrigued at what’s inside. Javi places the mysterious bag beside you as he takes a seat on the plush mattress. 

“Are there snacks inside?” You can’t help but sound hopeful.

Your husband simply shrugs casual, almost bored. You narrow your eyes at him but then greedily scramble to open the bag up.

What’s inside greets you like the warmest friend. A few plates, plenty of napkins, a small bag filled with various to go items and then a couple of hearty rolled up aluminum treats, all get poured out onto the bed.

“What’s this?!” You can’t help but exclaim in both confusion and adoration at your husband now helping you set up your makeshift table on the sheets.

“Just grabbed us something earlier.” Javi says casually. 

He continues to be so casual about this, not even meeting your eyes.

But you know your husband.

This is a response to being so overwhelmed by all the emotions swirling around that he doesn’t want anyone to see how greatly it affects him. Because what your sweet husband sometimes doesn’t want the world to know is how deeply he does feel. But you understand just how much Javi loves, how much he can get swept up in his true golden heart. 

And right now, that is evident in the meal laid out before you.

“You got us food for later.” You say the words so gently as Javi grabs a few drinks from the mini fridge.

“Knew we might be hungry.” Now he grins so boyish as he shrugs again.

“Well thank you.” You tell him earnestly as you slide out of bed to slip on your robe. Of course you scurry over to kiss all over your wonderful husband’s face who soaks it up with an amused grin.

“Come on cariño, let’s eat.” Javi softly kisses your forehead and pats your ass softly. 

There on the hotel bed you sit down to enjoy your first true meal with your husband.

Then you take the first bite and your eyes go wide. 

You snap your face towards Javier who simply pours out a whole salsa cup on his torta.

“Javi…”

“Hm?” He doesn’t even look up at you as he looks for a lime slice.

“Did you get us food from our truck?” 

Our truck. You can say that because it has become yours and Javier’s.

Anytime you didn’t feel like cooking or even after bad days at work, the truck was the first place offered to go to. Of course the food was delicious every time and you loved becoming friendly with all the workers who relentlessly joined you in teasing poor Javier.

But if you think about it, the food truck had transformed into something more. It now stands a strange but beautiful concrete evidence of you and Javi growing with each other since that very first date all those years ago. 

“Well yeah. Like you said, it’s our place.” Javi says simply. Your throat tightens heavy with adoration.

“And besides,” he suddenly adds. “It’s the spot we went to on our first day. Had to get it for tonight.”

Earlier, when the exact moment came when you were officially announced as husband and wife, you thought your heart was going to burst out of your chest into millions of bright confetti pieces.

Now you don’t know why, but this moment overwhelms your heart just as much.

Maybe even a bit more if you were being honest. Mainly it’s because it feels so much in so little. It’s Javier wanting to take care of you that he got food for later. It’s a visual representation of just how far you and Javier have come wrapped up in the most simple to go bag. 

That first date, you were so worried and heartbroken seeing him so upset. Now here you were, married to the man who on that same first date playfully joked about fighting you for the cherry on top of the ice cream sundae 

You can’t help but blink back tears before you wipe them away.

Of course your dear wonderful husband notices as he slides closer to you on the bed.

“Honey, what’s wrong?! I can go get you something else if you want. I won’t be upset I promise-”

“No.” You laugh through the tears as you wipe more away.

“No baby, this is perfect.” You mean every word as you finally turn to look at your handsome man, your Texas sunrise who’s brought so much tenderness and love into your life. 

“I love you.” You croak happily.

“Love you too, mi amor. You sure you’re okay?” Javi thankfully draws you into his arms and presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

This sweetly grumpy heart of gold man you can’t believe is yours. 

“I am. Thank you.” With one extra thank you kiss, you readily jump in to feast. You consume the late night meal through drying tears and the most tender warmth blooming through your chest. 

As you start to clean up you spot the folded receipt tapped to the other side of the brown bag. 

Your name is scribbled in the familiar handwriting of your husband. With greedy fast hands, you happily scramble to open it.

“To my wife,

Thank you for making me the happiest man every day but especially today. Here’s to more food truck dates 

I love you”

You remember when you had left a note for him on that first date.

You had done it because Javi had seemed so upset about the restaurant cancellation. You just wanted to reassure him that the new route your date took only seemed to make you fall for him more. You even had written the note in secret when Javi went to grab you more napkins.

Now here he is leaving you a note just as sneaky and twice as sweet.

You don’t care that you’re exhausted or that you and Javi might fall asleep any moment now.

Quickly sliding off the bed you rush to Javier’s side as he cleans up in the bathroom. You embrace him tight.

“Honey?” His voice even weary and tired more than ever still sounds so comforting.

“Thanks for taking me to that food truck.” You kiss his bare arm as you snuggle into him as close as you can.

“Nah, I’m the one who needs to thank you. You were the one who agreed to go with me. Can’t even believe you even agreed to marry my stupid ass today.” Javi snickers a soft tired chuckle and you reverently kiss his warm skin.

“Easiest decision ever.” It was. It is and will always be the easiest decision to pick Javi every and any time.

Javier abandons whatever he’s doing to completely wrap you in his arms, holding you tight, strong and true. 

In your husband’s embrace, exhaustion finally catches up to you. Your mind melts under the whirlwind of the day, and from the overwhelming love you have. You don’t even realize you’re being tucked into bed until Javier turns off the light by his nightstand.

“Night baby.” You slur half asleep barely staying awake.

“G’night cariño, get some sleep.” Javi kisses you goodnight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

And every day after that. 

The promise of getting to greet every day with Javier by your side eases you into the most peaceful and beautiful sleep.

You’re still knocked out cold when Javi wakes up the next morning.

He can’t help but snicker at the sight of you. Practically hogging all the covers, lightly snoring, and now curled on his pillow, you’re his favorite sight to wake up to.

As he starts going through all the shit he brought back from the wedding a soft knock comes at the hotel door. Freezing with every caution he would’ve used at a drug raid, Javi stares at you waiting and worried you’ll move. 

You barely make a sound and that again makes him almost snicker. 

At the door stands a hotel worker with a small and beautiful bouquet of flowers.

“They were sent in for you and your new bride.” He warmly explains and Javi smirks. 

That first date he forgot the flowers, but this time he knew he wouldn’t. It’s why he ordered these in before to make sure. 

When Javi pulls out a few bills from his wallet to leave a tip, he cant help but spot the white paper still folded in his wallet. His lips already twitch wanting to grin like the lovesick husband he is now.

He quietly places the flowers on your nightstand so you’ll be surprised to see them when you wake. Then he pulls out the white paper.

It’s faintly faded and he refuses to throw it away. Just like how he didn’t want to throw it away those few years ago when you first left the receipt in his truck’s cup holder.

Javi unfolds it with a delicate touch. The message is still the same. Your little heart still knocks him breathless. It still brings the goofiest smile on his face and fills his body with an incredible amount of love he never knew he could have for another.

As if on cue, the sheets start to rustle. Then comes the softest sigh from you almost like a siren’s song luring him to your side. And who is he to deny you? 

Besides, he’s already excited about celebrating your first morning together as husband and wife.

As he slides back into the sheets, into the warmth that radiates beautifully from you, Javi thinks that even on the worst day, it will never truly be a bad day because of you. 

He can’t help but think of that first date and how awful that day had been. Then you just effortlessly transformed it into something damn magical he still can’t believe he witnessed. 

His mind always goes to the image of you in his blazer, looking so gorgeous in that elegant outfit, leaning against his truck as you giggled.

Javi might not have known it, might not have fully processed it, but in that moment his life became tied to yours. To find someone as understanding as you, who even back then was so eager to face whatever changes, whatever stupid hiccups life threw at him, he can’t believe how lucky he is that he found you.

Maybe it’s because some part of him is still in that parking lot. He’s still in his truck under the neon lights waiting for you to leave him any minute. He’s done so many terrible things, probably doesn’t even deserve you, yet you never left.

You simply stayed by his side, firmly even told him that’s where you felt you were always meant to be. 

His sweet stubborn little love, his wife. 

Javi knows he’s the lucky one who gets to stay by your side. You’re not just his good luck charm to beat any kind of awful as fuck bad days, but you’re his sunrise. You’re his tomorrow and forever.

And for that, he can’t help but thank that fateful shitty Friday that led him here. 

"bendecido" en inglés: blessed

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part thirty

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

you make an unwanted but surprising detour, and find something of a silver lining.

a/n: ok I know I said the weekend and I know I’ve sucked at posting but I’ve finally got back into the swing of writing and I’ve written almost up to part 32 so here we go!!! thank u forever for ur support bbys 💕

word count: 6k

warnings: y’all know the drill.

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

“You’re okay,” you say over again. You’ve said it so many times in the last half hour it’s starting to sound less like words, more like meaningless sounds.

The carpet is stained with blood, crimson pools stretching outwards, but you’ve kept Ellie away from it, still on the ground, pressed against the wall beside the bedroom door, which now lays on the floor in front of you.

She hasn’t stopped crying, and neither have you. Hot tears flooded your cheeks as soon as Henry’s body thumped to the floor, and Joel had stood there for a long moment, one hand covering his mouth. Ellie sobbed loudly in your ear, and you called your husband’s name, your voice cracking around it.

He half-turned to look at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, blinking wildly. “What d’we—what just…Liv—”

“We need to bury them,” you told him bluntly, your voice somehow strong as more tears fell down your cheeks, dripping off your chin and into Ellie’s hair, “and we need to get out of here.”

Loudly, he clears his throat, and you can see the shift in his expression. That hard mask of his, all too familiar to you now, falls into place. He steps into the bedroom, returning a second later with blankets, and covers both the boys’ bodies with them. Then he comes back to where you’re still sitting with Ellie and crouches down.

“There’s a hardware store next door. I’m gonna go check it out, see if I can find some shovels or something to…” He trails off, wetness creeping into his eyes, and you nod.

“Go,” you tell him, jutting your chin towards the rifle, propped beside the door. “Be safe.”

He leans in, pecks your forehead. “Always. You’ll be okay with…?”

You nod again. “I’ll get her cleaned up.” As soon as he disappears out the door, you curl your hand around Ellie’s shoulder, shaking her slightly. “Ellie? C’mon, honey, can you get up?”

She sniffles loudly, but nods against your collar. It’s slow going, you favouring your good leg as you slide back up the wall, taking her with you, trying to shield her from seeing the boys’ covered bodies. Once you’re standing, you steer her toward the bathroom, keeping one arm braced across her shoulders. She keeps her head tucked beneath your chin, and you try to ignore the way your heart constricts in your chest.

You just want to protect her.

In the bathroom, you give her a good once over, making sure Sam hadn’t injured her in their tussle. After a moment, she waves you off, mumbling that she’s fine, and starts rummaging in the cabinets beneath the sink. There’s a near-triumphant look on her face when she produces a mostly-looted first aid kit, but there’s a wrapped roll of gauze tucked in one of the pockets. “We should change the bandage on your leg.”

You’re both silent as you work, peeling away the bandage Joel had wrapped you with last night. There’s no water to clean it out, but Ellie darts from the bathroom for a moment and returns with her backpack, producing an alcohol wipe.

You slam your palm against the counters as she cleans the blood from your skin, trying to avoid the wound, but it burns like hell. “Sorry,” she murmurs, but you shake your head.

After the gauze has been tied, Ellie sinks back on her heels as you adjust your torn pants around the bandages, testing your weight slightly. The far-off look in her eye is not unlike the look you’d seen on her face when you’d escaped the chaos of last night, after that Infected kid had ripped into Kathleen.

“You don’t have to,” you start, and your voice makes her flinch, but pulls her gaze up to you, “but I’m here, if you want to talk about it. You know that, right?”

She nods, and a single tear slips down her cheek. “I tried to save him.”

Your chest feels tight. “Sam?”

Another nod, and slowly, she gets to her feet, looking anywhere but your face. “I thought…I thought if I gave him some of my blood, then maybe…” She shakes her head. “It isn’t fair.”

“No,” you agree, offering her your hand. “It isn’t.”

“I was really scared,” she tells you, wrapping her fingers around yours, “when you stayed behind back there. Joel said he’d go back for you, once we were safe, but I thought��”

“Shh,” you hush, tugging on her hand and pulling her against your chest again. She buries her face in your collar once more and you hug her close, planting your cheek on top of her head. “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

You can feel her nod, and she gives a quiet, “Okay.”

“Here to Wyoming, I have no idea what’s going to happen. Something tells me that everything we’ve been through so far has been the easy part, and that scares the hell out of me. But what I do know is that from here on out, we stay together. And Joel and I will keep our promises: we’ll keep you safe. No matter what. You understand me?” She squeezes her arms around your middle, but says nothing. “Ellie?”

She pulls back, tear tracks on her face and nods. “I understand.”

You cup her warm cheek in your palm and wipe a tear away. “Good.”

Joel calls your name suddenly, his voice echoing through the hotel room, and you touch Ellie’s shoulder before stepping around her and out of the bathroom. His brow is hard when you look at him, but he’s got a shovel in his hands, and over his shoulder, you can see a wheelbarrow and another shovel.

You sidestep the covered bodies, trying to ignore the way your throat seizes when you see Sam’s much smaller form from the corner of your eye. Joel reaches for you as soon as you’re close enough, pulling you into the doorway of the hotel room.

“She okay?”

You sigh. “Are you?”

He shakes his head. Not now. His lips form a tight line. “We need to get this done.” But then his free hand comes to rest on your hip, his eyes darting down between you, and you see a crack in his mask. “How’s the leg?”

“I’ll live.”

“Olivia—”

“It’s fine, Joel, okay? Like you already said, we go slow.” You glance over your shoulder at the bathroom just as Ellie steps through the doorway. “We stay together.”

Stepping out of the bathroom completely, Ellie’s expression is the polar opposite of what you’d seen a few moments ago. The hard mask of her expression mirrors Joel’s, and your throat bobs as she steps quickly to where you’re both standing. Wordlessly, she grabs a shovel from the wheelbarrow, and takes off across the hotel parking lot, towards the other side of the road, where the pavement gives way to grassy ground.

You go to reach for one of the other shovels, but Joel stops you. Your brow raises. “You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m staying in here while you two go dig holes.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll grab their bags. Might be something useful that Henry had. See what you can find.”

You stifle your misplaced anger and nod. “Okay.”

While Joel and Ellie dig, you consolidate your gear. Ellie’s backpack was the only one between the three of you, and you can’t bring yourself to carry Sam’s, so Henry’s bag becomes Joel’s new one. Flashlights, some batteries, a singular can of beans, a pencil, a few of the comics Sam and Ellie had bonded over, a knife, the empty guns the boys had threatened you with back in the high-rise. The parchment-wrapped food you’d given them.

Henry’s voice echoes through your head.

New day, new start.

Except it’s not a new day. It’s the same day, and you want to scream with everything that’s happened. The shred of hope you’d found in those two boys, snuffed out in an instant.

You ignore the prick in your eyes as you refill the bags, sheath the knife at your hip, put the comics into Ellie’s backpack. Once you’re done, you get to your feet, still favouring your leg as you call out to Joel. “I’m gonna go see what else I can find in the hardware store.”

He nods and points to the rifle he’d set on the ground. “Be safe.”

With the gun slung over your shoulder, you head for the building behind the hotel. There’s the hardware store, and attached to it, what you think might have once been a coffee shop. Most of the storefront is shattered, and you can see the space Joel had cleared, the glass brushed away from the window ledge, enough for you to climb through.

It’s dark inside, and you flick on a flashlight, the beam tracing across the mess inside. You spot a few shovels on the ground — most of them broken — and assume Joel hadn’t gone much farther than he had to. You do a quick sweep, making sure there are no Infected lurking in the darkened corners or behind closed doors. 

What would happen, you wonder, if you were bitten again? Sure, you survived the first one, but who’s to say a second one wouldn’t do you in? Ellie was fine after the bite she’d gotten in the museum back in Boston, but did that mean the same for you?

The image of Sam attacking Ellie, thrashing at her while she screamed for you and Joel, creeps into your mind. The terror on her face — not entirely from being bit, you now realize, but also from the fact that it was her friend now trying to kill her.

You shake your head, brush away the tears that have formed.

Just keep going.

The store is empty of Infected, save for one you find tucked inside what you assume was once the break room. Stuck to the wall, fungus sprouting everywhere you look. It’s similar to the one you’d found down in the subway, the one that had scared Tess when you’d gone to confront Robert.

The first time you met Ellie.

So much has changed since then, it feels like a punch in the gut. You stumble back out of the room, the door swinging shut behind you, and drop to your knees, ignoring the pang in your leg as you hit the floor. The rifle nearly slips from your shoulder, and the flashlight pinches between your knuckles on the ground.

You open your mouth to scream, and no sound comes out.

A few minutes pass, you’re sure of it, banging your fist against the long-broken concrete tile, tears streaming down your cheeks and wetting the ground beneath you. Henry and Sam, Tess, Bill and Frank. The most recent losses sting, but they only make way for the ones that haunt you, remnants of the past you’ve kept buried too long.

Emily and Henry. Deanna. Nick. Tommy.

You don’t know if they’re alive. In your mind, the kids are still kids, but you realize that they’d be far from it now if they’re still breathing, still themselves.

Not…

You shake your head, pressing your forehead to the mossy floor and shoving your hands through your hair. You can’t think like that. It’s a path you can’t let yourself go down, one that only leads to dark places, places you’ve explored before.

Places you refuse to go.

But the loss still rolls through you, pulling more faces to the surface. Ones you know are gone.

Your parents. Anna. Sarah.

It’s just not fair. Any of it.

Sighing, you force yourself to your feet, using the rifle like a crutch to get upright. You swipe at your cheeks, lifting the flashlight and starting down the aisles.

You don’t find much. The store has clearly been picked over since the outbreak, and there’s not much left, but you manage to find a few things of use. A length of rope, a small hunting knife, an empty canteen, some camping cookware. It’s mostly metal cups, dinged and dented in places, but it’s something. You find another bag too — a canvas backpack similar to the one Henry had carried — and stuff your new items inside.

You realize you’ve been gone long enough that Joel will start to worry, and head for the front of the hardware store. As you reach the broken window, the coffee shop next door catches your eye, and you see there’s an opening that leads into it from the hardware store. Whether or not the opening was always there, you’re not sure, but you step through anyway, swinging the flashlight beam behind the high counter, craning your neck to make sure nothing’s lurking in the shadows.

Satisfied that there’s nothing, you make your way around the counter, poking at the shelves and cupboards. A rat scurries out of one of the cupboards and makes you jump, but when you flinch back, your boot connects with something that sounds hollow, and your brow raises.

You move slow, praying it’s not another rat, but when you pull on the cupboard, it won’t open. Locked. Brow furrowing, you sink down, pulling the knife from your belt. It takes a bit of finesse, tongue pressed between your teeth, but when you finally get the lock free, falling back on your ass with a huff, your breath catches when you see what was locked away.

Coffee.

Not instant, but the good stuff. Three bags of it. The kind that Frank always plied you with when you visited Lincoln. The kind that Cowan always had on hand just for you when you two were still…

The kind that you and Joel would share back in Austin, your breaks from the hardware store spent getting your caffeine fix and stealing kisses in the alleyway.

There’s even a stack of to-go cups beside the bags of coffee grounds, along with a French press.

You just start laughing. The tears come back, and you laugh until your sides hurt. It’s like the universe is saying, not fair? How’s this for not fair? 

Calling it a silver lining would be pushing it. A bright spot, maybe. 

Once your laughter and tears subside, you take all of it, stashing it with everything else you found in the hardware store. You can’t wait to tell Joel.

As soon as you step back outside, however, the sight before you sobers you again.

Joel is tamping down the dirt again, smoothing it out with the end of the shovel. Your throat bobs as you head back to where he stands, favouring your good leg. The pain has lessened some, but the ache is still there. Go slow, you remind yourself. Go slow, stay together.

As you reach Joel, Ellie comes into view, wearing her jacket, Joel’s in her hand. She’s holding Sam’s writing board. Your heart sinks and Joel reaches for you, brow raising at the bag over your shoulder, but you wave him off, leaning against him as Ellie hands him his coat.

The graves are unmarked, and none of you say a word as Ellie sets Sam’s board onto the ground. The wind whooshes in your ears as she straightens and steps away from the graves. She turns and looks back at you both, and her voice is flat as she asks, “Which way’s west?”

Joel tilts his head, looking over yours, past the hotel and the hardware store. The road stretches on until it fades into the horizon. Ellie just nods and starts walking toward the curb. You open your mouth to call after her, but something stops you.

Joel’s arm settles across your shoulders, and he squeezes you against him, pressing his mouth to your temple. You sling your arms around his waist, pulling him closer, inhaling deeply.

You look down at the grave — Sam’s grave.

Written on the board: I’m sorry.

“Let’s go,” Ellie calls with that still-flat tone, and you both turn to see her standing at the road, looking expectantly back at you.

You give her a nod, stepping away from Joel as he reaches down for Henry’s backpack. He takes the rifle from you and you take his coat, offering him your free hand as he slings the bag over his shoulder, then the rifle. He takes it, twines your fingers together, and you start toward the pavement. His grip on your hand is tight, and you can tell he’s trying to take some of your weight, to keep you off your injured leg. You let him.

Ellie’s eyes are glued to your linked hands as you reach the curb. They flick to your face for a second and you open your mouth again to say something, but she turns before you can get a word out. Joel squeezes your hand, and you can feel him looking at you, but you shake your head.

Time to go.

+

Somewhere outside of Omaha…

It’s slow fucking going.

Joel knew it would be. He doesn’t want to push you harder than he needs to. Between your leg and the concussion you’d more than likely received (and barely got over) in Kansas City, he’s watching you like a hawk. He notices Ellie doing the same, the girl lurching for your side when you wobble, slipping herself under your shoulder to give you some support when your leg refuses to. He gives her a nod each time he sees it, a silent thank you, and she just nods in return.

The days are quiet. None of you have much to say, and in all honesty, Joel’s still reeling from everything that happened in KC. The scene plays over again and again in his mind, the way you’d grabbed Ellie and tried to shield her from it, the way Henry had stared at Sam’s lifeless body.

What did I do…?

It’s all haunting him, every goddamned thing. Everything that’s happened to you since you left Boston, and hell, everything before that. It sits heavy on his chest, a gnawing pain that seems to have woven itself around his ribs, squeezing tighter when his mind wanders away from the present moment, sifting through memories that play more like a horror movie than a lifetime. 

From the moment you left Boston, almost nothing has gone as you’d planned it. Joel knows he should have expected more than a few hiccups, but…losing Tess that way. Everything you uncovered in Lincoln. You’d nearly been killed twice in Kansas City, and if Kathleen hadn’t brought you with her, if that horde hadn’t appeared when it did, he doesn’t know what…

“Joel,” your voice calls, soft, accompanied by a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. He blinks, your voice muffled in his bad ear as you say his name again. “Baby, eat something, please.”

He scrubs his hand down his face, forcing himself out of his head. You’re stopped for the night, tucked in the back room of a long-forgotten convenience store. Ellie is passed out on the sleeping bag behind you, her coat zipped to her chin, hands folded underneath. She looks so much younger while she sleeps, and it makes the pain in Joel’s chest tighten when her brow furrows and she mumbles something unintelligible.

Your gaze follows his, your head turning to Ellie as she mutters again. You reach out, your hand landing on her leg, squeezing softly. “Hey,” he hears you say, “you’re okay.”

Joel’s eyes flutter shut, and suddenly he’s back in that hotel room, seeing the pair of you pressed to the wall, hearing your broken voice mutter the same two words over and over again. He can smell the iron tang of blood in the air, the gunshot still echoing through his head.

You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.

Ellie says your name, more of a whimper than a word, and Joel ignores the sting in his eyes as he opens them again. He can see the wetness on her cheeks from where he’s sat, the camping lantern set between the two of you the only light in the space. “We’re right here,” you continue, your voice still so soft. “You’re safe, El. Nothing’s gonna happen, alright? Go back to sleep.”

She nods and Joel swallows back the lump in his throat.

Turning back to him, you slide the half-empty can across the ground. “Eat, Joel.”

He bites back his protest. There’s that glint of determination in your eye, one that’s been there as long as he’s known you, and he knows you’re not taking no for an answer. He’s been off since you left the hotel, and he knows you’ve noticed. You know him too well, and enough to know not to press him, not yet. He doesn’t know what he would say to you right now if you did.

You give a slight nod when he picks up the can, tips it back until the cold…soup? He thinks? Whatever it is, it’s long past its best-before date, but there’s something resembling a vegetable inside, the broth made slightly more tolerable by the bit of water you’d mixed in.

Once it’s empty, Joel sets the can down as quietly as he can, then gestures to you. “Lemme see your leg.”

This time, it’s you biting back your protest. He sees it in the crease of your brow, the way you bite the inside of your lip as you plant your hands on the ground, shuffling awkwardly to his side. You wince as he curls a hand around your knee, lifting your leg into his lap. There’s blood on the bandage wrapped around your thigh, red blooming through the gauze, and Joel grits his teeth. Carefully, he pulls the bandage away and you inhale sharply, reaching up and fisting the shoulder of his coat in your hand.

His brows pull down. Ideally, you would have had stitches, or some of that medical glue crap he remembers you having back in Boston. Probably brought it with you when you left, too, but your bag is long gone, most likely looted by Kathleen’s cronies. Ellie had found bandages back in the hotel, some stroke of luck, but they’ve run out, and Joel’s resorted to tearing up strips of his t-shirt to wrap around your thigh.

But it’s not enough. The going slow hasn’t been slow enough. “Where’s the water?” he mutters, tossing the soiled bandage away. You jut your chin to your backpacks, on the ground beside the lantern.

“My bag,” you answer, and Joel reaches for it, pulls out the canteen you’d found back in the hardware store. He pulls out his mostly torn t-shirt too, wetting the sleeve and using it like a cloth. You whimper as he cleans away some of the blood, bending slightly to inspect your skin. It looks just as bad as it had that night, if not a little worse.

Your fingers tighten in his coat, your mouth pressed to his shoulder, biting the fabric of his coat to combat the pain. “I know,” he murmurs softly, turning his head slightly to kiss your forehead. “I’m sorry, baby; we can’t let this get infected.” It’s a miracle it’s not already, but he doesn’t want to say that out loud. “We need to keep you off your feet for a while, somehow. It’s not getting any better.”

You shake your head, pain flaring in your eyes. “We can’t stop, Joel. Not here. It’s not safe, it’s not…” A tear falls down your cheek. “It’s only been a few days.”

“It’s been two weeks, Liv,” he tells you, rubbing his palm over your knee as he wipes at more blood. “Two weeks, and you’re still bleeding. We have to do something.”

Your head turns, your gaze landing on Ellie’s sleeping figure. When you look back at him, there’s a tear on your other cheek. “Fine. We find somewhere safe, for all of us. No splitting up, none of that bullshit ever again, you hear me?”

Joel actually cracks a laugh at your tone. “Yes, ma’am.” He leans in, gives you the softest kiss, forcing himself to ignore the way his blood rushes south at the little noise you make, the way your hand comes up to cup his scruffy jaw. “Like I’d let you out of my sight.”

The corner of your mouth twitches, but no smile follows. The pain in Joel’s chest squeezes slightly and he rubs your knee again, tilting his face up to press a kiss to your forehead. “Joel?”

“Yeah, baby?”

A tear rolls down your cheek, slips off the curve of your chin, splattering onto his sleeve. “Tell me we’re gonna be okay.”

His chest twinges again, his ribs constricting, mind reeling. He changes his grip, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to his chest.

“We’re gonna be okay.”

+

You know he’s right.

You know you’re all going to be okay, that your leg will heal and that you’ll find someplace safe to be while you do. You want to believe that everything you’ve lost thus far isn’t just a precursor to more. You want to believe Tommy is still in Wyoming, and you want to believe that you’ll survive to see him, to see the look on Joel’s face when he sees his brother again.

You want to believe Ellie’s nightmares will stop, that the pained expression that crosses Joel’s face when he thinks you’re not looking will go away, that the way your whole body is tense all day, every day, waiting for the other shoe to drop, that it’ll all cease.

You have a sinking feeling that the only way those will stop…

You can’t even say the words out loud. You won’t.

It’s all gonna be okay.

It has to be.

The Omaha QZ was a third of the size of Boston, and only lasted three years past the outbreak. Vaguely, you can remember the reports, soldiers passing information back and forth through the radios, the same radios you’d camped out at with Cowan, desperate to hear news of your family, of Joel’s. 

God, it’s all so long ago, isn’t it? A lifetime.

Knowing what you do, you steer clear of the mostly-standing QZ walls. It’s been the same since you left Kansas City: Joel takes the lead, Ellie covers his bad side, and you stay close to her. If you so much as wobble, she’s there, tucked under your arm, keeping you upright.

“Thanks, kid.”

She only ever just nods.

Eventually, the city gives way to nature, the skyline receding, replaced with thick forests and hills, rivers and ponds. It reminds you vaguely of the cabin near Lincoln, where Joel had taken you for your honeymoon. There are paths through the forest, dug deep in the dirt, lined with tire tracks and footprints. It’s a good a path as any, though it does your leg no favours.

A few hours into the hike, Ellie spots something through the trees, halting you all, pointing. “What is that?”

Joel follows her raised finger, steps off the path just enough to disappear from view. You can still hear his movements, and just when he’s been gone long enough to make anxiety prick in your gut, he reappears, a satisfied look on his face.

“Good?” you ask, squeezing Ellie’s shoulder as she helps you forward.

He nods, offering you his hand as you follow him off the path, Ellie at your side. You move extra slowly, mindful of every step, testing the resistance before planting your foot, making sure your boots won’t slide. Joel stays close, his fingers twined with yours, only going a few feet ahead to poke around the trees, the rifle raised.

The forest gives way to a clearing after a bit, and then you can see it for real. Halfway up a hill, high up enough to see in every direction, is a watchtower. Your eyes scan the structure, praying to whoever’s listening that there’s nothing wrong with it. You can make out a high metal fence surrounding the tower, topped with barbed wire. To you, it looks like heaven.

“Who built that?” Ellie asks.

“Probably park rangers,” Joel tells you, squinting up at the tower. “It’s too far out to be FEDRA. They would have used them before, to keep an eye on things, make sure no one got lost hiking in the woods. It’ll be a good vantage point; we’ll be able to see in every direction.” His gaze lowers, sweeps through the clearing. “We’ll be safe, for a while.”

“A while?” Ellie repeats, and you can hear the twinge of panic in her voice. It makes guilt claw at your insides.

Joel speaks before you have the chance to. “We need to stay put for a bit, give Liv’s leg a chance to heal. Two weeks, maybe more.”

She swallows hard enough you can see her throat bob. “And then?”

“Then we keep going,” you tell her, squeezing her shoulder again. “Together.”

She just nods.

You and Ellie wait at the base of the hill while Joel heads up to the tower. There’s a clear path leading up to the fence gate, an overturned truck jammed between a few trees nearby. No sign of people, that you can see, or Infected. The tension in you eases ever so slightly, but when Joel disappears again, it comes right back.

Ellie’s silent as you wait, but your guilt won’t keep its mouth shut. “I’m sorry,” you say softly, “for slowing us down.”

Her head whips in your direction so fast you worry she’ll hurt herself. “What?”

“It’s my fault,” you say, gesturing to your leg, the bandage poking through your jeans. “If I hadn’t…we’d be closer to Wyoming by now if I wasn’t…”

She actually rolls her eyes at you. “You didn’t get shot on purpose. Or kidnapped. Joel told me why you stayed behind, when they started shooting at us. We’d all be dead right now if you hadn’t done what you did. You don’t have to apologize for it.” The corner of her lip tugs up, and it’s the closest thing you’ve seen to a smile on her face since… “Y’know, you’re kind of a badass, Liv.”

You lift a brow, narrowing your eyes slightly. “Only kind of?”

Ellie laughs, and the anxiety in your gut turns to triumph. “More than kind of.” She slings her other arm around your waist, keeping you upright and hugging you at the same time, and your chest grows warm. You hug her back, leaning down to press your cheek to the top of her head.

Joel reappears a few minutes later, your own triumph mirrored in his face. Finally, something fucking good. He nods, offering you his hand again. It takes time, your leg betraying you as the hill slopes up, and it takes both of them on either side of you, your arms draped over both shoulders and Joel ducking to make up the height difference, but eventually, you make it up the hill. There are clear paths dug in the dirt, what look like single tire tracks marring the ground.

“Bikers?” you ask, your brow lifting as Joel releases you to push the large gate open. It’s reminiscent of Lincoln, and you swallow back the comparison, refusing to let it get to you. “Anything useful up there?”

“Couple’a gas cans in the shed,” Joel tells you, jutting his chin toward the rusted metal structure just inside the gate. “Some stuff up there, few beds, propane. Dunno how long it’ll last us, but it’s enough for now.”

Ellie’s in awe as you step through the fence, craning her head back to get a good look. She squints up at the watchtower, shielding her eyes from the light, and you laugh. “Go on,” you nudge her, gesturing to the stairs. “We’ll meet you up there.”

You see her eyes dart to Joel, who nods as he closes the gate and locks it shut, and then she’s off like a shot, darting up the stairs with a broad grin on her face. Joel grunts as he takes more of your weight, his arm moving to curl around your waist. You look up at him, sure your guilt is clear as day in your eyes, but he brushes it off, leaning in to give you a soft kiss. “Hush,” he mutters, starting to lead you to the stairs. “Let’s go.”

You have to stop for a breather more than either of you would like to admit. It’s a few steps, then stop, a few steps, then stop. Over and over, and you’re half-sure your leg is worse than it was on the ground, but as soon as you reach the top, it doesn’t matter.

You can see everything. There’s not that much to see, to be truthful — it’s a lot of trees and trees and oh yeah, more trees. But you can make out the roads, the pathways that wind toward the watchtower. You can see the city off in the distance, the crumbling buildings making for a fitting skyline. And the windows wrap the watchtower, the glass all intact, a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of the world around you. Nothing’s getting close to you without one of you spotting it.

You’re safe.

Joel was being modest when he said there was some stuff up the tower. The beds have actual damn mattresses on them, and Ellie’s already started laying out your sleeping bags. Joel tries to get you to sit, but your curiosity gets the better of you, inspecting the desk in one corner of the room. The drawers are locked, but the wood is old, and it only takes a few jimmies of your knife to have the thing popping open. A handful of bullets roll around the bottom as you slide the drawer out, and you grin at Joel as you pull out a full box of ammunition that you know will fit both your guns.

The propane turns out to be a few tiny canisters, small enough to power a camping stove you find tucked under one of the beds. You’re all holding your breath as Joel hooks up the canister, turns the dial on the stove slowly. The blue flame flares to life and you can’t hold back your excited squeak, immediately reaching for your bag, pulling out the metal cups you’d pilfered from the hardware store. And…

“I’ve been saving this,” you tell Joel, chewing your lip as you rummage around in your bag. It’s a miracle he hadn’t found it yet, but you’d wrapped your findings carefully in your spare flannel, tucked at the bottom of your bag. “Didn’t want to give it to you until I knew we could actually make it.”

His brow raises as you pull out the French press, but then his entire face twists into shock when you pull out the first bag of coffee grounds. “You’re kiddin’.”

“Swear on my life, baby,” you grin, laughing as you pull out the second bag, setting it beside the first. “Care for a little pick me up?”

He’s on you a second later, wary of your leg but grabbing you up into his arms, kissing every inch of your face he can reach. You’re actually laughing, giggling as he peppers you with kisses, mumbling how much he loves you in between.

“Jackpot!” Ellie shouts suddenly, and you break apart, though Joel still holds you in his arms. “Look what I found!”

Grinning ear to ear, she shows you what she’s found: the largest first aid kit you’ve seen since the shelter in the mall back in Boston, a gigantic jug of water — sealed, and…

A baseball bat.

Not just any baseball bat. It’s much different from the one you’ve carried for so long. Wood instead of metal, though the handle is wrapped similarly with dark leather that has barely stood the test of time. But the end of the bat, the end where yours was dented from years of use, this bat is riddled with nails, sticking out at every angle, blunt side and sharp alike. 

You grin at Ellie. “Jackpot.”

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