#the first eight all aired in july

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #1

Step by Step ep 12:

Be My Favourite ep 7:

Be My Favourite ep 8:

Be My Favourite ep 8:

Hidden Agenda ep 2:

Wedding Plan ep 1:

Wedding Plan ep 2:

Wedding Plan ep 2:

Love in Translation ep 1:

Only Friends ep 6:

Only Friends ep 11:

Peaceful Property ep 11:

A remake of this post.

[withahappyrefrain]

“Stop wiggling around, I’m trying to sleep! Wait… what’s tha… oh!”

Forced proximity with best friend Bob?

A chance to do friends to lovers with Bob? Say no more!

"Remind me to never let Javy book the Air B&B again."

Bob chuckled at your comment, despite agreeing, "Well at least we have an actual bed. Reuben and Mickey have bunk beds."

"So all the single people have to suffer?" You scoffed, continuing to shuffle through your luggage.

The annual lake trip was going well, until the room arrangements were revealed. It wasn't that you minded sharing a room with Bob.

It was the lack of a second bed.

Twenty years ago, when you were both eight, this wouldn't have been a problem. But then puberty, high school, and base camp occurred, which brought to light the crush you had been harboring on your best friend.

"We'll make it work. And if it's that bad, I can take the floor," he offered, always the considerate one. It was one of the many traits you adored about Bob.

"Robert James Floyd, absolutely not!" You scolded, eliciting a chuckle out of him. It was deep and low, just like his voice and you didn't want to admit how it made your knees nearly shake.

"I've slept in barracks before, it's the same thing."

The comment would have gotten a laugh out of you. In fact, you would have even made a remark back, probably about how you've also slept in truck beds and underneath a wide open sky.

But then Bob Floyd took his shirt off.

It wasn't even your first time seeing him shirtless, far from it. But now he had filled out, with muscle and a dusting of hair that trailed down from his chest, past his stomach.

God, was he always this hot? Had to be and somehow you just didn't notice it until later. Perhaps that was the worst part; you fell for him because of who he was. It wasn't as if he had some type of glowup over summer break, like you'd see so often in those stupid teen movies you'd watch to feel better about yourself. No, Bob Floyd was always a beautiful soul, inside and out.

And he wasn't yours. Couldn't be. The risk of him not reciprocating was too high. Plus, your family was friends with his'. That meant Thanksgiving, Christmas, Fourth of July, hell, even fucking Memorial Day gatherings would be tainted. All thanks to you.

The pressure was too high, the risk was too great.

But you could look, right?

"Sunshine?"

Bob's childhood now turned adult nickname for you broke the spell. Your wide eyes met his oceanic's. His hair, which had gotten darker over the years and now had threads of early greys, was mussed from taking off his shirt, some curls over the front of his forehead, others to the side. White shirt in hand, highlighting how massive they were when clutching the alabaster fabric. Brow's knitted together, combined with his narrow eyes and titled head created a downright adorable look of confusion.

"You,,,," he briefly turned around, to see if there was something on the wall behind him and that's why you wouldn't look at him, "You okay?"

You nodded eagerly, probably too eagerly, "Yeah sorry....I uh spaced out. Probably thinking of ways to get back at Javy."

Bob smiled, despite it never reaching his eyes when he nodded. You had turned around so quickly, unable to make such an observation.

"I'm going to go take a shower," grabbing the top and bottom you could find the quickest in your suitcase. You avoided eye contact with him, too busy feeling shame for getting caught doing something so lewd.

Rushing, you turned the water on in the showers. Focusing on ensuring you grabbed the correct products. Get the water to the perfect temperature and pressure, it exists, it has to exist because if it doesn't then you'll think about the dark body hair that went past the waistband of his jeans.

For about twenty minutes, it worked. You did your skincare routine, brushed your teeth for nearly two minutes, even blow dried your hair. Applied a lip mask, that stupid lash and brow serum the worker at Sephora conned you into buying. Moisturize every inch of your body, even though it was the dead of summer and you would sweat it all off before sunrise. That stupid reusable eye mask that you got because it was on clearance. Have you done the Wordle today, you should do the Wordle. You should do anything other than thinking about sharing a bed with your shirtless best friend.

It worked. Even put on some music, not too loud, just enough to hear and hum along.

It worked. For a while. But then you had used nearly every product in your cosmetics bag and it was time to get dressed.

Fuck.

You could never match a pair of socks, not even if your life depended on it. But tonight, fucking tonight of all nights, you had to grab a whole matching set.

The pale pink lace trimmed cami, paired with joggers. An oversized T-shirt that went further down than the pair of matching satin shorts.

You had brought the set when you were talking to a guy and thought you would be able to move on from the wonder that is Bob Floyd. What a fucking joke.

Maybe you could wear them, run back out to grab something else and run back in to change. No, why would anyone do that? If anything, it'll just make it more obvious that you didn't want to wear it in front of him. But what if you didn't change and Bob thought you had worn essentially casual lingerie on purpose? What if he found that weird? What if-

"You okay in there Sunny?" His voice always calmed you, always able to break you out of whatever self inflicted spiral you were on.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded despite Bob being unable to see you, "Yeah, I'm good. Just developed a more extensive skincare routine."

A short burst of laughter was released on the other side of the door, "You don't need all that. Already pretty."

"Bob Floyd, you are....." Charming. Amazing. Too good to be true. The love of my life,

"....too kind."

"Just telling the truth," his feet audibly stepped away. The butterflies in your chest were still exploding from his words. He made you feel safe, that this was Bob you were talking about. He'd never think you'd do something lewd or negative on purpose. Bob knew your intentions to be good. After all, he was your Bobby.

Just not in the way you want.

Your head cleared long enough to walk out the door, into the well lit bedroom. When he first made eye contact with you, you didn't even falter, simply smiling at him.

But Bob didn't say anything at first. Usually he'd make a teasing but well meaning comment about you taking so long. His thin pink lips parted, yet no words came through.

"Are you okay Bobby?"

The concern in your voice broke the trance. His features soften, his lips quirking into a half smile, "Yeah, I'm good. Just gonna shower and then head to bed."

Tension had left the room. Flopping down onto the bed, you scrolled through social media, watching all the videos and photos the squad had posted today.

"Uh, Sunshine?" You turned and lost your breath. Bob's hair was freshly washed, ends beginning to curl. A white shirt that was barely translucent and grey sweatpants that hung low on his lithe hips.

Bob Floyd had downright slutty hips.

"I don't think the bed is big enough for both of us to lay down."

Your brow crumpled in confusion, "Javy said this was a queen."

"Javy thinks anything that isn't a single is a Queen." Bob explained, not phased at all by this mistake.

Clearly it wasn't the first time. But you were still going to kill Javy Machado tomorrow morning.

"Here, if we both sleep on our sides, it'll be good."

"Like spooning?"

"Uh yeah," a hand came up to rub the back of his neck, "That's one way to think about it."

You supposed it was better than feeling his ass against yours, "Alright, well....come on in, the water's fine."

It took some time to figure out the arrangement. What was one supposed to do with their other hand? The final agreement consisted of your hips flushed against Bob's, his arm slung over your waist.

Zero awkwardness in the air. It felt....natural.

"Night Bobby."

"Night Sunshine."

Things were looking up. There was no way this would change your friendship or threaten to reveal your well kept secret. Sleep was well within your reach.

Then Bob moved. And kept moving. Due to his closeness, you felt every maneuver, no matter how subtle.

"Floyd, do you mind?"

His movements continued, as if he was trying to avoid your body while somehow simultaneously hang onto it.

A loud huff left your lips, "Stop wiggling around, I'm trying to sleep! Wait, what's that...."

Oh.

Your hips were flushed against his, your ass perfectly fitting the space formed by his thigh meeting his hip. Right against his hardened groin.

The sweatpants were thin. He didn't have anything underneath. Thanks to the flimsy fabric of your shorts, you could feel him greatly.

You were in bed with Bob Floyd. Bob Floyd was in bed with you, rocking an erection. You were being held by Bob Floyd, in bed. Bob Floyd had a huge cock, a grower.

Silence filled the room, tension thick enough to be cut with a butter knife. Neither one wanting to move, for fear of making it worse.

He let out a shaky breath. He developed a rhythm, almost imitating one sleeping.

You shifted, just enough for your thigh to rise, but subtle enough to play off as nothing.

His breath hitched.

Inch by inch, your hips began to gyrate, rubbing against his clothed cock.

"B-Bobby," you were panting, as if having run a marathon. His fingers sank into your hips, gripping the plush flesh as he flipped you onto your back, towering over you.

You moved to sit on your elbows, to raise yourself up to argue. From years of play fighting, he was fast as lightning, pinning your hands above your head.

Bob slowly lowered himself down until his nose brushed against your, his soft hair brushing your forehead.

"Twelve years." Was all he said, gritting through his teeth, squeezing your hands in hopes it would tethered him to Earth.

All that came out of your mouth was a hum of confusion. In the moonlit light, you searched for his eyes, trying to read them.

"Stuart Hendricks asked you to prom. You had been hoping all month he would ask you. Hell, I even helped him. Told him your favorite musical and which song to sing. I was excited for ya. And then you said yes to him and I wanted to punch him. I never had thought about fighting someone until then. Took me a week to realize why I was so angry."

Oh my God.

"Eight to ten years ago," you confessed. It was Bob's turn to knit his eyebrows together.

"Eight to ten?" He repeated, "Why is there a range?"

"I remember feeling....funny when you came back from boot camp. You had filled out a bit and had on those adorable military issued glasses. But it took me some time to accept what I was feeling," you explained.

How you found those glasses endearing was beyond Bob's understanding. But it didn't agitate him, it was just one of the many things he loved about you.

"That's a lot of time lost," his voice was barely a whisper.

You nodded, "Can we.....can we start making up for it?"

"Yes," he nodded, dropping his head lower, "one hundred percent yes."

His lips were like heaven. He molded his body to yours, chests flushed together, limbs tangled within one another. A hand that spanned the entirety of his neck, his thumb guiding your chin upwards so he could deeper explore your mouth.

"Heard you singing....and it just felt....felt like we were living together," he confessed in between kisses, "felt so right, like that's what it's supposed to be like."

Nodding feverishly, your hands found purchase in his thick hair. Tugging on the sun kissed locks, earning a groan from Bob that made your thighs clench.

"Can....can I touch you?" Always the gentlemen, your Bobby.

"As long as you don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it sunshine," his mouth latched onto your neck, leaving open mouth kisses along the side, teeth gently grazing your sensitive skin. A hand grabbed your leg, hitching it to wrap around his waist.

Bob Floyd was fucking heaven.

[pappydaddy]

made for loving you (s.h.)

a/n: we are just pretending that they had the ability to remotely check their voicemail systems in 1985, okay lovelies? awesome!

tv show/movie: stranger things | pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

requested by the lovely @echos-scomplink (ily lovely!)

synopsis: steve fears his chance with y/n is ruined leading to breathless proclamations in the rain. based on i was made for loving you by kiss.

taglist: @the-weeping-author | @lilypad-55449 | @popeheywardssecretgf | @smarie7547 | @eichenhouseproperty | @slytherinambitious | @k-k0129 | @ihatepeanutss | @moralina |  @poppet05 | @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @badass-yn |  @lexi-2004 |@i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo |  @savagemickey03 *line through your user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: depictions of being beat up | blood mentioned | fluff

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____

  King Steve never believed in the whole soulmate idea. He found it certifiably insane for someone to think that someone was made specifically for one person, it was baffling to him. Not only did the idea of commitment send a shockwave akin to the eight-point-zero magnitude earthquake through his body, but the idea of committing to one person blew his feeble little mind. How could someone become so in love with one person? Was it just that it is actually just socially acceptable to have affairs and simply never talk about it? He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t comprehend the rhotic lacing romance novels and movies. How could someone be so obsessed with someone that they devote their whole life to this one person? How could someone be so obsessed with someone that can be happy spending their whole life around someone? Because, certainly, his parents are not happy spending their whole lives together.

  It all fell into place like puzzle pieces in the Summer 1985 when he first laid eyes on Y/N L/N. She worked in the Ladies’ Speciality store on the same floor as Scoops Ahoy. He would see her going to the food court, passing by the Parlour on her way to her shift or leaving for the day. He hadn’t even talked to her and he was infatuated. Not a word was spoken to him from her lips and he was being driven mad by the thought. It wasn’t until Y/N came in to get some ice cream with Robin (the two forming a friendship from working so close together) on her day off before they headed to the community pool that he spoke his first words to her. 

  From there, he was entranced. It all made sense to him. Every poem ever written about the obsession of love. Every line of literature that oozed with the sense of pining. He knew that he was made solely for her. To love her. To hold her. To simply be with her. It was his higher purpose. His calling. He was simply there to be hers. Despite his fumbling attempts at talking to her, Y/N found his dorkiness endearing enough to take a chance on him by making the first move - asking him to call her.  

  Unfortunately, that’s as far as Steve got before getting trapped in a storage room and plummeting into a Russian Underground Base. Her phone number in his passenger seat and the suggestive words of a date hanging in the air of his car from where she uttered them two nights ago. If he hadn’t been trapped and, consequently, kidnapped by Russians, there would be no way in hell Y/N would be at the Fourth of July party with some jock who didn’t even know her favourite ice cream flavour. 

  “I’m sorry,” Steve blinked, a dumb look on his face as he looked at Robin. Robin cocked her head to the side with a roll of her eyes, waiting for Steve to speak as she still held the payphone receiver in the air. “I must have heard you wrong,” He continued, speaking with a chuckle, hoping she was wrong. “‘Cause it sounded like you said that Y/N left you a voicemail saying she was going out on a date tonight-”

  “It’s ‘cause of the giant flesh spider running rampant through Hawkins, isn’t it?” Dustin nodded as if he understood why Steve was so pale after hearing this news. Baffled, Steve and Robin both looked at him as he stood there, sweat staining through his graphic shirt. 

  Opening and closing his mouth like a fish, Steve shot a panicked look between Dustin and Robin. The three of them were off to the side, away from the rest of the scheming groups as Robin checked her voicemail, hoping to hear anything from Y/N to make sure she was okay. “No,” Steve nearly yelled, his voice impossibly high. “Well, now I’m worried about that.” 

  Robin, finally hanging up the phone, sighed. “She said he was taking her to the carnival,” Dread filled Steve. Obviously, Robin noticed since she continued on. “According to Hopper and Joyce, the carnival was untouched by the giant flesh spider-” She gave Dustin a pointed look for wording it that way. “And if this flesh spider is looking for this El girl, Y/N should be safe.” 

  “Again, not what I’m worried about,” Steve stressed, a hand coming up to run through his matted and grimy hair. Blood, sweat, and product weighed his normally fluffy hair down. “I’m more concerned about the fact that she’s out on a date with another guy because I was just trapped in a Russian Base for like three days!”

  Dustin scoffed, causing Steve’s eyes to point angrily at him. “Calm down, Drama Queen. It was like 48 hours,” Dustin looked between Steve and Robin, shrinking slightly as he took in the context of the situation. “Which clearly felt like three days and jeopardised Steve’s chances with Y/N. I can clearly see that now.” 

  Silence enclosed around the three as they stood there. Robin ran the voicemail over in her head, trying to decipher how her new friend felt about this date knowing her feelings for the floppy haired new graduate that currently stood across from her. Dustin, trying to gauge the situation, looked between Robin and Steve before slowly starting to back up in an attempt to remove himself. 

  Steve. Steve was a ball of anxiety. So much so that this made Robin realise that Steve had actually changed. King Steve wouldn’t have cared. King Steve would have just shrugged it off and went off to find his new conquest. She could actually see the doubts and insecurities bubbling to the surface of his mind. “Wow. Nancy Wheeler ruined you, didn’t she?” Robin whispered, but she wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that the words met Steve’s ears. His mind seemed to be screaming too loud for him to hear anything else. 

  “I should’ve just manned up and asked her out,” Steve was beating himself up. Literally. Robin watched, a look of pure shock and bafflement on her freckled face, as he beat a closed fist into an opened hand. Just enough for his already swollen, bruised, and cut face to wince but not enough for it to attract anyone’s attention. “Now, she’s probably having the time of her life with this quarterback who will get a full ride to the University of Alabama or something-” He muttered to himself, the punches continuing, concerning Robin slightly. 

  “Woah, woah, woah,” Robin’s voice cracked slightly as she lunged forward. Gently, her hands grasped Steve’s wrists, keeping him from hitting his hand again. Steve, eyes watering in sheer insecurity, looked at her. Her heart broke for both her new found friends. She knew Y/N wasn’t having the time of her life. A, she hated stereotypical jocks and, if memory serves Robin right, this guy was the quintessential quarterback. B, she wasn’t with Steve - her long-standing crush. Something she admitted to Robin drunkenly. “Go to her.” 

  “What?” Steve’s voice was wobbly. It was soft. 

  “Go to her, Steve. You remember where she lives, you dropped her off that one time when her car wouldn’t start,” She started to explain. “Go to her, tell her how you feel. Lay it all at her feet.” 

  “W-what about everyone else?” He stammered, wide eyes looking towards the cluster of people. Robin waved her hand dismissively, making him look back at her. Her blue eyes were so confident and sure. They were compelling him to listen to her. Confirming that everything will be okay if he just listened to her. 

  They stared at each other, locked in a kind of communication only people destined to be best friends could achieve. “We can survive. We will survive.” She urged him despite the fact that she didn’t believe those words one bit. Swallowing thickly, Steve slowly nodded. Brown eyes casting over the cluster of people. Some he fought side-by-side with for the past two years, some who just joined the battle. They were all probably more capable than Steve at everything. At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

  Squaring his shoulders, he stood to his full height. “I’m going,” He spoke with a firm nod. The kind of nod that sealed some of the best and worst plans in history. “I’m going to her.” Just as the rubber sole of his converse slapped the pristine tile as he started to move towards the exit, unsure of how he’s going to get to Y/N’s place with no car, Hopper’s sharp whistle of his lips stopped him. 

  Seeing a Walkie-Talkie flying through the air, landing right in the scrambling hands of a nervous Dustin, disappointment and dread filled him. He wasn’t going to be able to slip away that easily. He barely listened as Hopper, Dustin, and Erica bickered about how it was best for them to communicate, hoping that whatever the solution was could spare him. His body buzzed with the need to tell Y/N everything. The need to bare his soul to her. The need to be near her - nay. To be hers. 

  The jingle of keys brought him from his locked in zone, letting him catch the keys Hopper was throwing him in time. “Steve’s in charge.” Those words weighted Steve��s soul down to the depths of the bowls of Hell for he knew this night was far from over. 

  “Come on,” Steve gruffed, his drive zeroing in. His sole focus was simply on beating this shit for another time and getting to Y/N as fast as he could. “Let’s kill these bastards.” 

____

  By the time it all fell silent again, rain was pelting down. Once the paramedic’s gave Steve the okay to leave and the firefighters were able to retrieve one of his keys from the Scoops backroom (thank god for cold rooms), he didn’t waste any time speeding off. He knew he should probably change his clothes from something that bore his blood, sweat, and tears, but he simply couldn’t waste another moment. That’s how, after a bout of reckless driving and a few near-misses, Steve was parking on the street, peering into the darkened driveway of Y/N L/N’s house. 

  A moment of hesitation fluttered through him. One thought was about the possibility of her not being home. The other one being the very likely possibility of her being asleep given the late hour. Another thought was about her parents not appreciating a beaten and bloody person professing their love for their daughter. However, a warm glow emitting from an upstairs window and her car being the only one parked in the driveway reassured him enough for him to muster the courage back up to get out of the car. 

  “You just survived two days in a Russian base and an interdimensional creature made of human flesh. You can do this.” He breathed, pumping himself up. Shaking his limbs out, his eyes zeroed in on the front door of her house. Just like a magnet, his body started to be pulled towards her, almost as if it were sure that it was meant to be around her. With a determination greater than the determination he felt to get out of the Russian base, he started to move quicker up her driveway until he was practically running up the rather long driveway, rain pelting his shirt and hair. 

  Standing there, his chest heaved as his back tingled with a mix of excitement and nerves. Before his consciousness could catch up, his finger was jabbing the doorbell repeatedly - much to his own horror. Despite not wanting to continuously ring the doorbell, his finger couldn’t seem to leave it alone until she pulled the door open. It was like his eyes were desperate to see her and his body was doing everything in its power to do just that. 

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Even with the muffled voice barely making it through the wooden front door and the sound of socked feet rushing down the stairs, his finger never ceased to stop pushing the doorbell. Part of him hoped that if the Jock did accompany her back to her place, his incessant doorbell ringing was annoying him. The large majority of him, however, was mortified that he couldn’t seem to stop ringing the damn doorbell. Suddenly, the door was pulled open, the burst of air from the movement making her hair wisp back from her face perfectly and Steve was stunned into a stupor, finger pressing on the button. 

  “Steve,” A look of shock crossed her face before it deepened once she caught the sight of his face in the glow of the entryway light. “Oh, my god, Steve!” She breathed out, concern lacing her voice as her hand came up to delicately cover her mouth as she took in his nearly swollen shut eye. 

  He couldn’t muster up any words. Hell, he couldn’t even take his finger off the doorbell. Hesitantly, Y/N reached out. He wasn’t sure if she was scared of him or scared to hurt him, but once her slightly cold fingers met the wet skin of his wrist, he blinked out of the trace he had been lulled into. “I needed to come see you,” His voice was much more hoarse than what it had been earlier. His throat was dry from the lack of water, but his body was becoming more and more exhausted as the seconds ticked by, but he felt energy shooting through him now that he stood in her presence. “Robin told me about your date with the Jock tonight and I couldn’t lose you just because I was kidnapped by Russians for two days.” 

  “You were what,” Y/N blinked, expression dropping from shocked to horrified. “Steve! You need to go to the hospital or the police station! Not to my house! This is serious-” She started fretting, her hands coming up, looking like they were going to lay on his face. His skin tingled in anticipation of her touch on him and his chest heaved as he tried to control his breathing, his eyes darkening, but her hands stilled halfway there. “Does it hurt?” She breathed, hands slightly shaking as her own adrenaline coursed through her.

  Steve, with another surge of confidence, reached his own hands out to grab her wrists gently. Suddenly, as his fingers wrapped around the softness of her skin, he was all too aware that he hadn’t had a shower in two days and probably smelled horrible. On top of it, he was very much aware of the level of grime on his skin. But Y/N didn’t seem to care as her wrists seemed to sink into his hands, relief washing over her at the feel of his touch. “I’m fine. I got checked over by the paramedics, the Feds were there. I am fine,” He reassured her, noting the worry that still swam within the depths of her eyes. “But I needed to come see you. I would have ran here the second I escaped, but I was stopped.” 

  “Probably the paramedics stopped you because you were kidnapped, Steve,” She blinked and in a split second, guilt consumed him for not being able to tell her more. He was sure he would eventually tell her everything, but he didn’t want to scare her off. “But why did you need to see me so badly, you must be exhausted.” She furrowed her eyebrows, eyes flicking over his face. 

  “I needed to tell you how I feel, Y/N. Hearing that you were out with the Jock tonight, I-” He cut himself off, his throat swelling with emotion. “I couldn’t lose you. I couldn’t lose the person I was made for,” His words were like drops of blood dripping from his bleeding heart. “I can’t get enough of you, Y/N. I need to be around you and I’ve never understood the concept of soulmates until I saw you,” Shock crashed against Y/N like a tidal wave. Staring at the beaten and bruised boy, she could only manage to blink her eyes slowly as his words bleed with passion. “Y/N, there is no doubt in my mind that I was made solely to love you.” 

  Those words hung in the air like an anvil ready to squash Steve as his eyes burned into her shell-shocked ones. Her mouth hung open slightly as he could see her brain processing the words her ears just heard. Suddenly, she snapped back to reality, her jaw softly closing as she stood up, eyes as soft as a plush bed - making Steve want to lay within them for the rest of his life. “Oh Steve,” She breathed out, seemingly overwhelmed with the proclamation. Steve’s heart lurched, the anvil dropping an inch. An equally as soft smile as her eyes graced her lips, but it did little to ease Steve’s anxiety. “I thought you were never going to make a move. I thought you didn’t like me like that-” 

  Her words were cut off as Steve grabbed her face in his blood stained and, truthfully, grimy hands. In one motion, his lips nearly jumped on hers, kicking off a feverish kiss. His lips moved against her stunned ones as if she were the water he was so deprived of for two days. As if she were the thing he was derived from for so long. As if she were the air he needed in order to live. 

  He could feel the gentle touch of her fingertips ever so lightly touching his forearms as her lips seemed to match his speed, her body coming to life after falling into the shock of the sudden kiss. Goosebumps marked the trail of her fingertips as they made their way up to his hands. Soon, the warmth of her hands rested over his, just sitting there. Almost as if she was using them to tell if this was real or just a dream. Steve was worried about the same thing but the coldness of the pouring rain hitting his back as the wind blew it under the cover of her porch told him it was all reality.

  Their lungs ached, Steve’s bruised ribs pulsed from his lungs beating against them, begging for air, not realising the lips he was attached to were (in fact) his air. Their chests swelled with warmth, both from their hearts becoming electrified with love and from the burning of their chests screaming from the lack of air. Lips became feverish in desperation as they both realised that, soon, they would have to pull away. Steve hated himself as he reluctantly pulled his lips back ever so slightly, just enough for both of them to suck in air, chests heaving - panting as if they had just ran a marathon. 

  Neither of them opened their eyes, feeling the laboured puffs of breath against their swollen lips as shockwaves of tingles shot through their bodies as if they were still kissing. “Nope,” Steve shook his head. “Not enough yet.” Y/N’s eyes fluttered open out of an act of confusion just in time for Steve’s lips to pounce back onto hers, this time her feet stumbling back from the force, his body crashing flush against hers. A squeak left her lips as she felt like she was going to fall backwards but his hands immediately left her cheeks, flying to her waist to pull her against him even more. 

  “Steve-” She pulled her mouth back slightly, words muffled by his lips still, but the risk of biting either of their tongues lowered, but he shushed her, ready to let his lungs explode if that meant he could keep kissing her. “Steve-” She tried again with a giggle, hands coming up to his chest to hold him back slightly. Finally opening their eyes, Y/N was stunned for a moment as she saw Steve. His lip now swollen, the cut on his lip re-opened and bleeding slightly. His eyes (or the eye that wasn’t swollen shut) nearly blown out as if he were high. Regaining her thoughts, she cocked her head to the side, eyes softening from the heated pools they were seconds ago. “Do you need a place to stay tonight?” She asked, having only caught enough information about his home life to know his parents were barely around and when they were, they barely met the standards of parents, let alone supportive and kind parents.

  Suddenly, and if Steve wasn’t already sure, he knew he had finally found the place in the world he was looking for. He found the purpose of his life. He found the thing he would live and breathe. He found the thing he would even die for. “Actually, yeah.” He said almost sheepishly, realising his house key was on the set of keys the Russians took from him and his parents were away (shockingly). He felt scared, worried that she would think he came here and professed false feelings just so that he could have a place to sleep for the night. 

  His worries were eased with that soft smile slipping upon her swollen lips as she stepped back, Steve’s hands reluctantly letting go of her waist. “Come on in. I’ll even let you shower and sleep in my bed.” She winked, a giggle gracing the dimly lit entryway as she backed up, Steve following immediately - almost like she was luring him into a trance like state just with her beauty. In that moment, he knew he would never get enough of her and he will live everyday trying to give his everything to her.

[cherryjamandtoast]

UPS TEAMSTERS-UNION WON !!!!!!!!!!!

From the article:

[(WASHINGTON) – Today, the Teamsters reached the most historic tentative agreement for workers in the history of UPS, protecting and rewarding more than 340,000 UPS Teamsters nationwide. The overwhelmingly lucrative contract raises wages for all workers, creates more full-time jobs, and includes dozens of workplace protections and improvements. The UPS Teamsters National Negotiating Committee unanimously endorsed the five-year tentative agreement.

“Rank-and-file UPS Teamsters sacrificed everything to get this country through a pandemic and enabled UPS to reap record-setting profits. Teamster labor moves America. The union went into this fight committed to winning for our members. We demanded the best contract in the history of UPS, and we got it,” said Teamsters General President Sean M. O’Brien. ... This contract sets a new standard in the labor movement and raises the bar for all workers.”

“UPS came dangerously close to putting itself on strike, but we kept firm on our demands. In my more than 40 years in Louisville representing members at Worldport — the largest UPS hub in the country — I have never seen a national contract that levels the playing field for workers so dramatically as this one....” said Teamsters General Secretary-Treasurer Fred Zuckerman. “We stayed focused on our members and fought like hell to get everything that full-time and part-time UPS Teamsters deserve.”

“Rank-and-file members served on the committee for the first time, ... “Our hard work has paid off — from those members and leaders negotiating for more at the table to my sisters and brothers building a credible strike threat around the country. Our union was organized and we were relentless. We’ve hit every goal that UPS Teamster members wanted and asked for with this agreement. It’s a ‘yes’ vote for the most historic contract we’ve ever had.”

Highlights of the tentative 2023-2028 UPS Teamsters National Master Agreement include:

Historic wage increases. Existing full- and part-time UPS Teamsters will get $2.75 more per hour in 2023, and $7.50 more per hour over the length of the contract.

Existing part-timers will be raised up to no less than $21 per hour immediately, and part-time seniority workers earning more under a market rate adjustment would still receive all new general wage increases.

Wage increases for full-timers will keep UPS Teamsters the highest paid delivery drivers in the nation, improving their average top rate to $49 per hour.

New part-time hires at UPS would start at $21 per hour and advance to $23 per hour.

All UPS Teamster drivers classified as 22.4s would be reclassified immediately to Regular Package Car Drivers and placed into seniority, ending the unfair two-tier wage system at UPS.

Safety and health protections, including vehicle air conditioning and cargo ventilation. UPS will equip in-cab A/C in all larger delivery vehicles, sprinter vans, and package cars purchased after Jan. 1, 2024. All cars get two fans and air induction vents in the cargo compartments.

All UPS Teamsters would receive Martin Luther King Day as a full holiday for the first time.

No more forced overtime on Teamster drivers’ days off. Drivers would keep one of two workweek schedules and could not be forced into overtime on scheduled off-days.

UPS Teamster part-timers will have priority to perform all seasonal support work using their own vehicles with a locked-in eight-hour guarantee. For the first time, seasonal work will be contained to five weeks only from November-December.

On July 31, representatives ... will meet to review and recommend the tentative agreement. All UPS rank-and-file members will receive a list of improvements in the contract. ... Member voting begins August 3 and concludes August 22.

The UPS Teamsters National Master Agreement is the single largest private-sector collective bargaining agreement in North America.]

Check the article for the full list; but ho ho holy shit.

This is huge. It shows the collective bargaining WORKS. The Teamsters sent a message to UPS and this win will send a message to Corporate America that unions can WIN for rank-and-file workers!!!

[zeroeightzeroone]

homesick - han jisung

love collection

genre: hurt/comfort

pairings: fem!reader (infp) x idol!han jisung (istp)

warnings: none?

wc ~3.7k | moodboard

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:

you miss your boyfriend–you miss him a lot.

how could you not?

all you have wanted to do for the past couple of weeks is throw your arms around jisung and hold him close. you want to keep your boyfriend so tightly against your chest that you're encapsulated by the warmth radiating off his body, the warmth that never fails to comfort you, resting your head against his chest to listen to how his heart beats in tandem with your own. you miss the physical closeness with jisung.

stray kids has been on tour since late april this year, and the last leg of the tour is expected to end early april next year. while that's quite a long time for the boys to be away, they'd be back in asia in late july and on a break until the tour kicks back up in early september. it's currently the beginning of july.

thankfully, you weren't taking any summer courses. through the grace of whatever higher power there is up there, you managed to convince your boss to let you work remotely so you could join jisung and the boys for two weeks during the japanese leg of their tour back at the beginning of june.

you loved watching jisung perform. seeing him firsthand from the crowd, in his element when he's on stage, performing his art and perfecting his craft, makes your heart lurch; you fall for the man all over again, watching him up there. seeing it firsthand is completely different from watching videos of him–you can feel the energy radiating off him when he's up there.

at the end of those two weeks, you and the boys ended up in the same place: the airport. you were boarding a plane back to seoul, and they were boarding a plane to their first tour stop in america. due to the influx of reporters and fans waiting at narita international airport, your goodbyes to the boys and their staff had to be in the hotel, inside your rooms, hours before checkout time.

knock, knock, knock.

"come in!" you call whoever is on the other side of the door; if it's any of the boys, then they will be accompanied by jisung, who has the extra room key for your room.

you grunt in a squatting position as you move your luggage from laying on the ground, on its back, to standing upright on its wheels. you hear the keycard machine beep from the other side of the door in confirmation as you're hunched over, wheeling your luggage up against the wall before standing up straight and rubbing your palms against your jeans. you watch as the front door opens to reveal the eight boys, jisung in front, holding the keycard to your hotel room. behind them, the managers and some guards come into the room with them, but the bodyguards stay outside.

"y/n!" felix whines with a pout as he pushes forward, running to you and enveloping you in his arms, "fly safe, okay?"

you pat the freckled boy's back appreciatively as you nod.

"make sure you text ji when you land, okay?"

"i will, but you guys will still be in the air when he gets that message."

felix pulls away, his hands on your shoulders as he looks at you, "still, it's the thought that counts." you smile and giggle at felix, who moves aside for the next couple of members to say their goodbyes to you.

your exchanges with jeongin, minho and changbin are on the shorter side; brief hugs with jeongin and changbin, who thank you for coming to support them in concert, meanwhile minho gives you a half hug and pats your head as he bids you farewell, thanking you for taking two weeks out of the many months jisung will spend talking about how much he'll miss you.

meanwhile, hyunjin, chan and seungmin's hugs last a little longer when you're swayed around a little bit and told to be safe, get a lot of rest on the plane and not miss them too much. chan lets you know that if there is any other time you're going to be free when they're on tour, let them know, and they'll arrange everything for you–from the plane tickets to where you're staying–anything at all.

seungmin, the member you're closest to after your boyfriend, whispers in your ear quietly to ensure it's kept between the two of you: "i know you're going to ask me to take care of jisung for you, so don't worry about that. don't worry about hannie; we all got him."

the reassurance brings a smile to your face, and your grip on seungmin gets tighter in appreciation. the boy sways your bodies back and forth, patting your back when you separate. when he pulls away, he steps aside to reveal your boyfriend standing there with a pout, his big, brown eyes glossy as tears build up at his waterline. you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing.

you were already feeling on the verge of tears when felix came rushing in and pulled you into a hug. chan's words about arranging anything and everything if you're free, then seungmin assuring you that they'll look out for your boyfriend while on tour and now, here's your boyfriend, your hannie, your jisung, looking at you with teary eyes.

you open your arms and jisung runs into them, prompting you to take a step back at the sudden impact, but jisung's tight grip around your waist protects you from any chance of falling backward. jisung buries his face in the crook of your neck while your arms are wrapped around his neck, your chin resting on his shoulder as your eyes are squeezed shut. your grip on each other is tight, knowing that once either of you lets go, the next time you'll be in each other's arms is in two months.

jisung lets a choked whimper slip out that he tries to hide with a cough. you smack his back gently, "ya!"

you clear your throat, trying your best to stay composed and stern as you utter the next words.

"if you cry, i'm going to cry too!" your voice cracks and trembles as you speak.

"i'm not crying," he denies. though his voice is muffled from his head buried in the crook of your neck, you can clearly hear that it's softer than usual, shaky, and uneasy.

you let out a pained laugh, "liar." the tears flow down your cheeks as you hold him even tighter.

"i'm not lying!" jisung continues to deny. he lifts his head up from your neck, and you stand there, still in each other's arms, looking at each other, "see."

what you see is how jisung's cheeks are flushed, wet with tears that probably fell and landed on the fabric of the hoodie you're wearing, his lashes clumped together with tears as he tries to keep his lips pursed together when they're trembling and threatening to go back to that pout. on the other hand, your tears are freely falling as you stare up at your boyfriend through your fluttering lids, mouth opening and closing as you breathe heavily through your pouted lips, cheeks also flushed and damp. you smack his chest.

"what?" he whines.

you open your mouth to laugh at him, but instead, a sob comes out. you fall back into his arms and bury your face into his chest as you cry.

"look who's crying now," jisung retorts as his arms move around your body again, holding you close. one hand rests on the small of your back while the other caresses your hair.

"yeah, the both of you," minho teases and jisung glares at the boy, but the older one just smiles back.

the rest of the boys watch the exchange between you and jisung with a slight ache in their chests as they remember how hard it was to say goodbye to their friends and family before leaving. chan looks around and he gathers everyone to leave, wanting to give you and jisung a minute alone to say your goodbyes before the driver takes you to the airport.

pulling away, jisung moves his hands to your face and brushes your hair back, some strands sticking to your skin because of tears as you hiccup. even when your hair is out of your face, he continues to stroke your hair back while the other hand is on your cheek, gently caressing the skin with the pad of his thumb. the two of you stare up at each other, sniffling.

"i love you," jisung whispers, his voice hoarse from crying.

you nod, sniffling and hiccuping in return, "i love you too."

jisung smiles down at you, "hey, i'll be back before you know it."

your eyelids flutter as you blink quickly, and your hands play with the back of the sweatshirt jisung is wearing.

"i'll text you everyday," he reminds, "i'll call you as much as i can, and as much our schedules and the time zones allow for."

you sigh shakily, "i'm gonna miss you so much."

"i'm going to miss you so much too, my love," jisung brushes your hair back again, "god, i wish i could just take you with me. two months away from you? that's too long."

you snicker, nodding in agreement, "i do too. but hey, i'll get to see so many videos of you taken by stay, doing your thing on stage."

your boyfriend smiles, gazing down at you lovingly.

"i'm so proud of you. look at you," you sigh, lips curled up in a smile, "my boyfriend is going on a world tour."

"do you know what that means?" you tilt your head in confusion, "souvenirs from every stop that remind me of you!"

since he left, both of you have been sending texts daily and video calls whenever your schedules permit it and when the time zones line up enough so it isn't too early or too late for either of you.

sometimes your calls only prompt you to miss jisung even more, wishing he was next to you and that his voice wasn't just coming through a device while he's on the other side of the world, but the distance also means you continue to long for the day jisung comes home. you know his parents long for that day as well, his mother sending you texts every couple of days asking when you're free so you can go out together. as jisung likes to put it–spending time with her future daughter-in-law.

however, as the number of days away from jisung increases, the number of days before jisung returns also decreases. with that in mind, you try to stay positive and look forward to the day he comes home.

now that the boys are in america, they've been quite busy rehearsing, checking and then rechecking their formations and any technical details that could go wrong during the concerts, the process repeating at each venue as they sync up their equipment with the new venues. their team organizing and making sure everything is okay with the venue and other organizers. as a result, jisung has been too busy to call late at night as he passes out the moment he's in his hotel room from the venue, then waking up a couple hours later to hop on a flight to the next destination.

he sends you texts here and there throughout his day, sending random photos of himself and the members during rehearsals or before and after the show. on jisung's end, he sent a text over when he landed early in the morning, saying he could probably hop on a call quickly when he gets to the hotel, seeing as they're going to be in inglewood for a little over a week for two shows instead of one. you were about to leave work when the message came through. going home for the evening when the message reminded you of your phone call with jisung's mother.

"hello, eomeonim (mother-in-law)," you greet when the line connects.

"y/n, myeoneuri (daughter-in-law)," she speaks into the phone, her tone sweet as usual. she doesn't say anything for a moment before speaking, "is this a bad time? you don't sound like you're at home?"

"ah, sorry eomeonim," you apologize, "i just got off the bus, but i'm on the way home now. but don't worry, i can talk if you need me."

"ah okay, i won't keep you too long then, myeoneuri," she assures before continuing, "have you spoken to jisung on the phone recently?"

you hum as you think, "I think it's been a couple of days since our last phone call; why? is he okay?"

you hear jisung's mother sigh on the other end of the line, "i'm a little worried, if i'm honest," you hum in acknowledgment and she continues, "he sounded quite down on our phone call yesterday and the day before. he told me not to worry when i asked… i know this might be a lot, but would you mind talking to him? if it's you, he'll open up more–at least, he'll have talked about what's on his mind."

"yeah, yeah, of course," you agree, "i'll see if we can call tonight, and i'll check up on him, see how he's doing, eomeonim. don't worry too much, i'm sure ji is okay!"

she chuckles on the other end, "ah, you sound just like him, y/n. don't tell him i sent you!"

you laugh in response to her rushed addition at the end of her statement: "i won't say anything," she sighs in relief, "was there anything else you were curious about?"

she hums, "nothing else, thank you so much, myeoneuri. i'll see you on the weekend, okay? come over whenever you want! the door is always open for you!"

your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you smile, "thank you, i'll see you in a couple of days. bye eomeonim!"

"goodbye, myeoneuri! get home safely. i love you," she bids her farewells, which you exchange right back with her before she hangs up the call.

thinking back to that conversation, you wonder what worried jisung's mother about him; was it how he spoke? his tone? the words he used? was he quite active in the conversation, or did he seem more passive? you wonder what exactly she meant by jisung sounding quite down, but you guess you'll figure it out when he calls you in the morning.

it's around eight in the morning when your phone rings from the bedside table. yunjin should already be awake and ready for work, so the ringer volume doesn't wake anyone up except you. you roll around, feeling around the bedside table for the device. you accept his call quickly and place the phone to your ear.

a deep yawn leaves your lips before you say, "ji baby?"

you hear him hum in acknowledgment on the other end before he replies, "yeah, baby, it's me." a sleepy smile forms on your lips at the sound of his voice. " did I wake you?"

you groan softly as you flick the lamp on, the sudden brightness causing you to squint, "yes but i don't mind. i just wanna hear your voice. are you back at the hotel now?"

"yeah, we got back a while ago. i just wanted to be ready for bed before calling; this way i can fall asleep while you're on the line," jisung explains, and you feel your cheeks heat up at his sentiments.

he continues to talk about what they did today. you're gradually more awake and more attentive as the minutes pass, so eventually, you realize what jisung's mother was referring to when it sounded like he's been down. jisung is speaking monotone, his voice softer, and when he speaks, it sounds like his mind is elsewhere.

when he's finished, you decide to segway into that conversation, "how are you feeling?"

he pauses for a moment, taken aback before he shrugs, "i'm tired, it's been a long day of rehearsal. what about you? how are you feeling?"

"i'm doing good, i'm hearing your voice, so i'm doing great," you answer quickly before he tries to shift the conversation to you, "are you physically tired or?"

jisung is lying in bed as he speaks to you, looking up at the ceiling and thinking of his replies, "yeah. dancing and all."

"emotionally?"

"emotionally?" he repeats to which you confirm, "i mean… i'm okay–better now since i'm hearing your voice after a couple of days… it's been a busy last couple of days."

you nod, running a hand through your tangled hair as you listen to jisung on the other end. his tone is still distracted as his words graze over how he's feeling, avoiding delving deeper into it. realizing that maybe he isn't ready to delve deeper into his emotions, you allow him to shift the conversation to your life and what you've been up to while he's been on tour–asking you how work has been and if anything new has occurred. you answer jisung honestly; there is nothing new at work as it's the same job you've had since getting into university; the only new events would be the lunch you have on the weekend with jisung's mother, aunt and grandmother.

the latter part of your updates brings a smile to jisung's lips, his heart warming at the thought of the most important women in his life spending quality time together. but at the same time, hearing your updates about your life back at home, no matter how small you think they are or if they're the same things that always happen, has jisung's chest aching in a completely different way.

"ji?" you call, not hearing anything coming from his end, "did you fall asleep?" you pause to listen, to survey whether or not you hear soft snores or heavy breathing that indicate that he is indeed asleep.

instead, jisung responds after a couple of moments, "i'm still here. i'm awake."

"are you okay?" you wonder, "if you're tired then i can go–"

"no, don't go," he quickly interrupts, "sorry."

"don't apologize, i just wanna make sure you're okay," you reassure, and you hear him hum in acknowledgment.

"i miss you," he declares softly, his voice solemn as he speaks.

"i miss you too, ji," you sigh, instinctively clutching the pillow closer to your chest.

the boy on the other end ponders for a moment before continuing, "i miss you a lot. i don't really know how to explain it," jisung blinks up at the ceiling, "i miss you all the time, but when we get back to the hotel or when i'm not performing, i miss you even more."

jisung's eyebrows knit in frustration as he continues to explain himself.

"i love being on stage, i love performing," he states, "i can't explain how i feel when i'm performing either, but… there's a feeling of contentment or fullness? i don't know… i just know i love to be up there. but…"

"but?" you encourage him to continue as his words trail off.

"but when i get back to the hotel, or when it's all over, i feel tired: the adrenaline doesn't last as long as it usually does. but even though i'm tired, it's hard to fall asleep."

you aren't sure where to place jisung's words, unsure if you've ever felt the way he's been feeling lately, uncertain if you can relate, but at the least, you want to understand and reassure him that you're there.

"there's a feeling of emptiness that kinda just sits there when i'm not on stage," his voice is softer when he says the word 'emptiness' like it's a fragile word, one he's unsure of, "i wasn't sure what it was before but listening to you talk started to help me realize what caused the emptiness."

"something i said helped you realize?" you repeat for clarification.

"yeah, listening to you talk about home, work, the local cafes, the conversations you have with my mom–just everything about your life at home," jisung lists, "i'm feeling homesick."

your lips part in awe when the last word leaves his mouth, the singular word allowing you to reconceptualize what he said previously and gain a greater understanding.

"i tried my best to distract myself and rehearse more to combat those feelings of emptiness but nothing seemed to work; it just stuck there. listening to you helped combat some of my homesickness but…"

"but it's still there," you finish his sentence, and he agrees with a sigh.

"i love being onstage, i feel so alive when i'm up there," now, when jisung speaks, his tone is clearer, and his thoughts are clearer, the way he's speaking signalling that instead of being lost in his own thoughts he's got both feet on the ground and he's working through them, "but i miss home so much. god… i miss you so damn much."

you smile sadly when you hear him sniffle.

"i miss my bed at the dorms, the air fryer at the dorms that we don't even use. i miss the smell of your laundry detergent and shampoo, i miss being in your arms, and you playing with my hair. i miss being at home."

jisung cries softly as he speaks, sniffling and continuing to list off the things that he misses at home. it brings tears to your eyes; using your comforter to dab the tears off your face.

"hey…" you call into the phone, "would it help if i sent little voice messages throughout the day so you could hear my voice? i can send pictures of things you love here too? just a couple more weeks, and you'll be here, and i'll hold you so tightly you get sick of me."

"i'll never be sick of being in your arms," he remarks, "and if it isn't too much, i would love that, all of it." jisung smiles at your suggestions, appreciative of you and your ideas to help him combat his homesickness until he's back in seoul.

"i'll try my best."

"baby?" he coos, prompting a soft response from you, "do you think we can video call? i wanna see your face before i sleep. can you stay until i fall asleep?"

your cheeks heat up from your boyfriend's suggestion, and your heart feels giddy at seeing his face for a couple of minutes before he falls asleep. " of course, baby."

[jjasen]

fireworks

request: due to popular request, I decided to give sleepless nights a sequel ❀

summary: hooking up with rafe at the cameron’s fourth of july party

warnings: smut (somewhat dark!rafe), 18+, minors do not interact

word count: 2k

a/n: if you already saw this pretend you didn’t! (I forgot to put tags and was wondering why nobody was interacting with it)

You’re out on the balcony, leaning on the railing as you wait for the annual Fourth of July fireworks show. The Camerons always host a party as Tannyhill has a good view of the patriotic display, and this year is no different. People from all around Figure Eight mill around, eating canapés and lounging in the pool. Rose really outdid herself this year - children snack on watermelon cut into perfect stars, their parents sip on cocktails from the open bar, and there’s beautifully expensive patio seating for the best view of the fireworks over the bay, framed nicely by oak trees draped in Spanish moss and string lights.

The view from the balcony is somewhat obscured by the tree line, but you prefer its relative quiet to the mingling below on the lawn. This was the first time you had been invited back to Tannyhill since you and Rafe had hooked up earlier that month. Perhaps it was paranoia, but ever since, Sarah had seemed to withdraw from your friendship. From everyone, really: both Topper and Wheezie had expressed to you their concern for her.

A shiver runs down your spine and you become acutely aware that you are being watched. You glance over your shoulder to find Rafe leaning on the balcony’s doorframe, looking you over with a sultry gaze. He takes a drink from the crystal tumbler in his hand, though it’s mostly ice, and sets it down, moving closer to you.

“You’re looking real pretty tonight, sweetheart,” he drawls, a hungry gleam in his eyes. You know what he really means.

“We can’t. Listen, Rafe, that night was a mistake,” you say. Even if you couldn’t stop thinking about him fucking you ever since, you thought.

He narrows his cerulean eyes at you and tilts his head. “Was it?” He steps closer to you, caging you against the balcony railing with his arms. He whispers into your ear, the sensation of his hot breath sending shivers across your skin. “Was it a mistake when you were moaning my name? Was it a mistake when you left scratches on my back while I was fucking you so hard you didn’t know your own name?”

You tremble and squeeze your eyes shut, praying that the hot coil of desire in your stomach disappears. He nods and smiles cruelly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, sweetheart.” He brings one hand down to cup the swell of your backside, pressing you into the muscular planes of his abdomen.

“Sarah’s my best friend,” you whisper. He doesn’t care, of course. Perhaps it adds to the thrill. He presses hot, feverish kisses your bare neck, and with each one you melt further into his embrace. He bites down gently into the sensitive skin of your nape, and you moan into the warm July night air. Your hand flies up to cover your mouth, and heat flushes into your cheeks.

“Better be quiet, unless you want everyone to know what a good slut you are for me, darling,” Rafe taunts. He’s achingly hard already; you can feel him twitching impatiently even through the fabric of his slacks and the thin linen skirt of your sundress.

“You’re such a fucking dick, Cameron,” you breathe. He only smiles with that stupid insufferable smirk of his and runs a hand through his hair.

“God, I can’t wait to have you on your knees, choking on my cock with that dirty mouth,” he says, amused. He undoes his belt, freeing his erection and nipping at your neck one last time before looking down at you expectantly, blue eyes glinting coolly, demandingly. Slowly, you sink to your knees, never breaking eye contact, and palm his heavy cock, lapping at a pearl of pre-cum from his tip demurely.

Taking in just the tip, you swirl and sweep your tongue over his purplish head until Rafe’s breath goes ragged. He fists your hair, throwing his head back and parting his lips with pleasure, sending a jolt of arousal between your thighs. “Just like that, baby,” he groans, his hips flexing as he thrusts into you, his eyelids hooded with lust and gaze dark with desire. His tip kisses the back of your throat as you coax more and more of his hard length into your mouth, and he’s so aroused that his cock throbs each time you brush over his sensitive frenulum.

“Fuck! Okay, okay, stop,” he laughs, jerking his hips back to pull out from your mouth before he can come. He helps you up and you rest your forearms are resting on the balcony’s metal railing, facing the view of the fireworks. The show is just beginning, effervescent sparks of red and gold lighting up the night sky. You expect Rafe to zip up his pants and return to the party. Instead, he rolls on a condom and reaches under the skirt of your dress, pulling the cotton of your panties aside. He rubs the tip of his impossibly warm cock against your slit, which is slick with arousal. You gasp in surprise.

“Here?” you breathe, chest heaving with apprehensive lust.

“Don’t worry,” he grins, “the noise from the fireworks will drown out whatever noises you make.” Your scowl quickly turns into a wanton moan as he pushes into you, the blissful stretch of his thick cock making you hiss with satisfaction. You wait for his heavy hand to press into the curve of your back, for his relentless thrusts, but Rafe simply goes still, the only movement the slight throbs and twitches of his cock inside of you.

“Why’d you stop?” Your question is less of a query than a crestfallen whimper, almost imperceptible over the crackling flares of the fireworks.

“Because I want you to beg,” he murmurs, lips brushing across the shell of your ear. His breath is heady and sinful against your neck and it only serves to increase your state of frustrated arousal.

“Please,” you moan, rocking your hips back and forth, aching for friction against your swollen clit. He grabs your hips roughly, forcing you to stop your movement.

“You can do better than that,” he rasps, nipping at the column of your neck teasingly. “I said beg.”

You move to glance over your shoulder and glare at him, but he swipes over your throbbing clit and you shudder, pleasure pulsing down your spine, and relent. “Please, Rafe, I need you,” whisper, and he begins fucking into you punishingly, painfully slow. “Harder, please, please,” you mewl. You grip the wrought iron railing tightly and bite down on your bottom lip as he begins pounding into you, rough with raw desire.

He thrusts into you so hard, so ruthlessly that your words choke in your throat and all you can do is moan helplessly. The pleasure of Rafe completely filling you and circling his thumb over your clit is incandescently euphoric, the waves of pleasure jolting through your body brighter than the fireworks that burst and glitter in the velvety night sky. Every nerve ending in the sensitive nub throbs when he swipes over it, and you can feel the slick of your arousal begin to drip down your thighs. Each time a firework explodes, you flinch a little at the sound, causing you to pulse around his cock, and he groans, throwing his head back.

“Fuck! I’m close,” Rafe rasps as his thrusting begins to get sloppier. He bucks his hips one, two, three more times until you feel him spilling into you, filling you with warmth. You begin to shudder with the beginning of your orgasm just as the finale of the fireworks display starts, and you cry out, a high pitched moan that sounds vaguely like Rafe’s name while the air reverberates with the crackling bursts of colorful sparks. Red, gold, green, and blue shimmers blaze through the sky as you bask in the glow of your own orgasm, your legs trembling around Rafe’s length. Sultry pulses of bliss radiate throughout your body.

Your chests heaving, Rafe pulls out and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, mussing his tawny hair artfully. You smooth your own hair back into place and run your hands over the skirt of your dress and dab at your lips, hoping that your gloss hasn’t smudged too much.

Like last time, Rafe is the first to leave. He pulls on his pants and calls back over his shoulder, “Meet me back downstairs in five minutes.” He doesn’t wait for a response before disappearing, the only trace left of him the slight scent of sandalwood and oakmoss clinging to the linen of your sundress. Despite his detached tone and general air of disinterest, you’re strangely drawn to him, although it is abundantly clear he has no inclination to know you further than the shape of your body. After waiting a few minutes, you follow his path downstairs and look around for a glimpse of brilliant blue eyes or his broad shoulders.

Instead, you hear someone call out your name and you whirl around to find Sarah in a blue floral tank top and linen shorts. She looks uncharacteristically nervous, twirling a stray lock of her honey-blonde hair and glancing around. Grabbing your hand, she whispers to you, “I have to tell you something,” and drags you to a far corner of the lawn under an oak tree. She sits down on the grass with no regard to staining her white shorts, and after a moment’s hesitation you follow suit.

Sarah looks down and fiddles with her necklace. “I know I’ve been kind of m.i.a. this summer,” she begins with a sigh. “And I’m sorry, I really am, babes.” She looks at you with uncertainty in her eyes. “I’ve…well, there’s no way else to put it. I’ve kind of been hanging out with John B.”

“John B? As in the guy who works on your boat?” you ask, arching a brow. Sarah runs a hand through her hair, scenting the night air with her honeysuckle perfume. She smiles sheepishly at you and nods, focusing her gaze somewhere faraway. “He’s really…I really like him. It’s different with him.”

You look at Sarah, the gentle curve of her smile, the way the corner of her mouth twitches fondly at some unspoken memory of John B, taking note of the lightness of the curve of her shoulders, as if an immense weight has been taken off her chest. Clearly, she is happy, and who are you to question that?

She shakes her head, bringing herself back to the present. “Anyways, babes, how have you been? I feel like I’ve been such a bad best friend lately,” she says, brown eyes full of guilt. Couldn’t be worse than sleeping with her brother, you think to yourself ruefully. A pit of guilt begins to form in your stomach at her innocently inquisitive gaze.

“I-” you begin, glancing back at the party. You catch the eye of Rafe, who is watching you, casually sipping from his amber drink. His gaze is hardened, full of warning.

“Nothing much, really,” you mumble, looking down at your lap. You recall the delicious stretch of Rafe’s length inside of you, the scent of his bare skin, the hot, open-mouthed kisses he would press to your neck. The way he had, not even one hour ago, demanded that you beg for his thick cock.  “It’s nothing,” you reaffirm. It’s everything, everything, you think.

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, Epilogue

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: M for Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics, mentioning of pregnancy/babies, family planning, breeding kink* Flirting, baby talk, tooth rotting fluff, Marcus being utterly Marcus. Summary: Ten years after getting married, the inn is seeing a slightly different kind of celebration for an even bigger extended family. Notes: While not indicative in any way of reader's appearance or ethnicity or anything else -- it's worth noting that Alex and David were heavily inspired by Alex and Henry from Red, White, and Royal Blue. So I've used a gif of them for this chapter in tribute.

I am particularly sad to say goodbye to these two, but I will hold their family close to my heart and revisit them frequently 🥰🥰 Next week we're taking a short rest, and Javi's soulmate story Bones Full of Words will start on July 14!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Ch 16 ~ Ch 17 ~ Ch 18

Getting out of the office was a priority today. Rushing to collect his briefcase, Marcus runs through the list of instructions for his assistant, even though he knows she is well aware. “If you need anything, call me. It will probably be loud, but I’ll keep an eye on things.” He promises, ignoring the little eye roll Tara gives him when he glances up.

She sighs slightly. “Like I’m interrupting tonight.” She scoffs, making him grin.

“We’ll be up late, so I’m not coming in until lunch tomorrow.” He reminds her, having blocked out the morning in his calendar months ago.

“No meetings, got it.” She bites her lip. “How did the lunch with the Director go?” She asks, making him hum as he closes the soft leather tooled briefcase bag that Junie had made for eight Christmases ago.

“Tell you tomorrow.” He promises, knowing that will have her fuming at being out of the loop for even twenty-four hours. She huffs and he’s sailing around the desk to grab his suit jacket. “Have a good night!” He calls over his shoulder playfully. “And don’t forget to go vote!”

It didn’t make sense to have the election night party anywhere but the inn. It’s well within Virginia’s 8th Congressional district and a very recognizable landmark across the country — Americans all remember their two term first woman President, and the stories about her children that played out in the media for the eight years she ran the country.

Tonight, the buzz of another election night has the inn — and the family — on high alert.

“Hey sweetheart!” Marcus rushes into the inn, aware that you will be here rather than at the house. “What do I need to help with?”

“Hi honey!” You’re four feet deep in party preparations, while Juan is out back setting up tents in the garden and Sydney is cooking her heart out. Thankfully the inn is totally sold out to people who will be attending tonight’s party, so there aren’t really extra guests to attend to and the restaurant is closed for one night for the occasion. “Junie has all the kids in the front room if you want to go say hi before I put you to work.”

“Of course I do.” His jacket is already coming off, but he leans in to press a kiss to your lips and his hand finds your stomach. “You aren’t working too hard, are you? I tried to get out as soon as I could.”

“I’m working as hard as little Pike will let me.” A soft moment to enjoy a kiss from your husband without all three of your children swarming him when he comes home from work is a blessing, but this third pregnancy is more tumultuous than the last one. “Constance, Holly and Sabrina insisted on construction papers banners to hang at the party and the boys made sugar cookies with red, white, and blue sprinkles earlier in the day” The generation of kids that are growing up together have bonded quickly — with Sydney and Juan’s oldest taking to your and Marcus’s twins, and the younger brothers of both families coming together just as easily. This time it is you and your sister who are pregnant together, and Junie has been unexpectedly enjoying the majority of her pregnancy. Her first has been mild and she has that fantastic glow about her at six months along.

“Good.” Marcus beams as he caresses the barest bump under your breasts. You had insisted you were just gaining a little weight this time but he knew better. “Everyone is excited for tonight. They’ve asked if they can stay up until the speeches.” He warns you with a chuckle. “I’ve already taken the morning off tomorrow.”

“They can stay up a little, but they have school tomorrow.” Which you’ve already told them, of course, but the twins are already learning that giving their Daddy big eyes will get them a whole lot of leeway. “After my mother’s second election, I genuinely thought we were done with this.” It sounds like a complaint, but you laugh softly and shake your head, leaning into your husband’s side in your office. “I guess one of us was bound to end up following in her footsteps.”

“It’s very fitting that it’s Alex.” He slides his hand down to rub the spot on your back that has been giving you the most grief with this last pregnancy. “I cast my vote for him today before lunch.”

“I love that he’s running in our district,” you admit, glowing with that sisterly pride that you’ve been known to show all along your brother’s campaign trail. “That we can actually vote for him. I gave the staff long meal breaks today to go vote. Everybody has their stickers on.”

“I know. But it’s convenient since he and David live one neighborhood over.” He teases, kissing your cheek and winking at you playfully. “Now, how can I help?”

"Go say hi to your kids and then I'll enlist you to help me set up the main sitting room for tonight." Stealing one more kiss before you step away is a challenge only in that you have to limit yourself to one more kiss.

“You got it, sweetheart.” Despite the time and the additional responsibilities, Marcus still feels that fluttering in his stomach every time he kisses you. Stepping away, he opens the door to your office. “Pike posse! Where are you?” He calls out.

"Daddy!" The scream goes up nearly immediately, and three sets of little feet hit the ground running to scramble around the corner into the hallway.

His kids are the most important people in his world, besides you. He immediately drops down, expecting to be tackled and grunts as he absorbs the impact of the three’s enthusiastic greeting.

The twins start talking at him immediately about their day at school, as nine-year-old Holly and Sabrina both aced their geography quizzes and are currently facing the very serious dilemma of picking out books for their next book reports. Six-year-old Matthew is quiet while his sisters command their father's attention, but snuggles into Marcus's side as tightly as possible in the meantime.

His arm winds around Matthew, hugging him close, and he kisses the top of his curly brown head. Giving his full attention to the reasons that he is proud to drink out of the #1 Dad mug that sits on his desk at work every day. “We will find the perfect books this weekend at the bookstore. How does that sound?” Marcus suggests, knowing they will love that.

"YESSSS!" Both girls chant over and over, wiggling out happy dance moves on the spot. This was clearly the outcome they were hoping for.

“And what about you, Matt?” Marcus turns his attention on the quiet little boy that is still clinging to him. “Does that sound like fun?“

The little boy thinks for a second, lips twisted up in concentrated consideration, until he finally nods a little. "Could I...get a crayon book?" The most artistic of your children asks, always favoring coloring books and puzzle books — collectively called crayon books by the first grader — over other activities.

“Absolutely.” The promise is easily made, making sure that he doesn’t feel judged by wanting to color or draw over reading. “We will find a great crayon book, just for you.”

"Do you want to see the banners we made, Daddy?" Sabrina asks eagerly, already about to pull their father into the next room to show him before she can even finish the sentence. "Matty drew stars on them, and I did stripes!"

“Come on bud.” Marcus hoists Matthew up into his arms as he lets the twins lead him into the main sitting room of the inn. “Oh, it’s great!” He proclaims when he sees the banner on the ground.

"Auntie June said we could put it up over the window!" Holly announces with a toothy grin. One of her top front teeth fell out a few days ago and a bottom tooth has become especially wiggly since then.

“Of course we will.” Marcus agrees. “I’ll hang it up as soon as you show me exactly where.” June will go nowhere near a step ladder, considering her condition and he knows Dylan will be thankful for that. You and June are too much alike, trying to climb on things and give your soulmates heart attacks while carrying the babies.

"I thought it would be best to wait until their helpfully tall father got home," June admits, coming back into the room from the other side — a direction that means she definitely ducked into the kitchen for a snack while the kids were saying hello. "Hi Marcus."

“Hey, June.” Marcus smiles at your younger sister and moves over to give her a quick hug. “I know your husband will be happy.”

"Yeah, yeah," she huffs and rolls her eyes like she hadn't tried to get up on a ladder with a hammer in her own house just three days ago and Dylan had had a fit after walking into the room. "How was your meeting?" She asks more quietly, tilting her head at her brother-in-law when her niblings aren't paying attention.

“It was…enlightening.” Marcus grins and shrugs, not willing to say too much right now. Today isn’t about him. “How was Charlie the horse, today?”

"My star patient is recovering marvelously." June's veterinary practice has unexpectedly become primarily focused on horses and small amounts of domestic livestock along with the usual dogs and cats, and she is thriving being an on-demand vet that makes house calls around their corner of Virginia. "He was trotting around very happily by the time I left today."

“Hopefully you are letting Marcy do all the heavy lifting with the animal?” Her vet tech is a wonderful woman who has aspirations of becoming a veterinarian herself, once she can complete the schooling. It had been a reassurance to Dylan to have her there with Junie as she made house calls.

“It helps that Marcy is also taller and stronger than me,” June admits with a laugh. “I’m behaving, Marcus. I promise.”

“Good.” He gives her a pointed look. “I know how the women in your family operate.” He reminds her. “Your sister nearly made me crazy with the twins.”

“Juan had to wrestle her away from the porch decorations earlier,” June tells him with a knowing smirk. “I think carrying twins makes her feisty.”

Marcus’s eyes widen slightly and his mouth drops open. “Carrying?” He chokes out.

"Oh shoot." June's eyes dart over to the kids, who have already set out at creating a chain of construction paper links in red, white, and blue to go with their banner. When she looks back at Marcus, she shoves him and grins. "Go talk to your wife, but do not tell her I spilled the beans."

“I—” he fumbles for something to say, but he can’t. Just turning around and immediately moving back towards the office. Happy the kids are occupied again so he can talk to you.

"Hey." His familiar shadow in your doorway makes you stand again, and you pick up a stack of papers that you had meant to bring home yesterday to look over before you think better of it and put them down again. Tonight is just election night. Tomorrow you'll deal with personal news and other business. That's what you had decided, even though you're almost vibrating with your own good news tonight. "Did the kids show you their banner? Holly is extremely proud of how straight her stripes are."

“They did.” Marcus nods as he closes the door behind him. Walking over to you and pulling you in for a more prolonged kiss, one that he pours himself into.

It isn't that Marcus never takes the time to kiss you breathless, but you hadn't expected it today and certainly not right now, so you end up both wrapped in his arms and boneless against him as you sink into the kiss until you're both breathless. "What was that for?" You breathe, when he finally pulls away again.

“I’m just…happy.” He nuzzles his nose against yours gently and kisses you again. “So fucking happy, hummingbird.”

"Does this mean your meeting went well?" You ask, arms twining around his waist and beaming at him.

“It was good.” He smiles back at you and sighs softly. “But that’s not important right now.”

"Your meeting...with the Director of the FBI...isn't important right now?" That doesn't make any sense to you at all, and you pull back a little to look Marcus over and frown. "Was it...not about what you thought?"

“It was.” Marcus admits, knowing that the idea of it has changed in the past two minutes. “I think I might turn it down.”

"What? Why?" That definitely isn't the response you were expecting from him. Not when he's been edging his way toward this one last promotion for years now.

“It would be a lot of hours.” He reminds you softly, leaning in and kissing you again. “We are about to have another baby.” He wants you to tell him, not have it come out that he knows. Hating now that he had missed the appointment because of a department meeting. You had assured him it was okay to miss one and now he has missed something important.

"You've worked so hard for this," you remind him gently. "This is your literal life's work. Your entire career. I don't want you to give up the chance to see that through. We always planned on a big family, that shouldn't stop you from accepting a promotion." Once glance down between you at your growing belly makes you sigh softly and you lean up to kiss him again. "I was going to save these until tomorrow...but do you want to see the ultrasound photos from this morning?"

“Not unless you don’t want me to.” Marcus would love nothing more, but he also doesn’t want to pressure you.

“I had a silly idea that tonight was going to be all about Alex, and nothing else.” From behind you, you reach into your desk drawer and pull out an untouched envelope of photos to hand to Marcus. “But this is important. Just like your work is important. Our lives are our family and our careers, and we’ve worked really hard to keep the balance.”

“I know.” Marcus assures you, not taking the photos but he drags his hands up and down your arms soothingly. “The director is retiring next month and wants to appoint me as the acting director as a trial run to being named Director of the FBI.”

“That’s…that’s incredible, baby. I’m so proud of you.” Pride in your partner, of how hard he works and how much he has accomplished, sticks in your throat and make your voice crack a little. If you’re a little teary while you beam at him and pull him in tightly for a hug? Well, that’s pride too but also a dash of pregnancy hormones. His thoughts of retiring early were thrown to the back burner when he got set on the fast-track of promotion after promotion. He’s been the Assistant Director of the FBI for almost four years already. “You deserve it, love. You work so hard and you deserve everything.”

“I don’t know about that.” He knows there have been sacrifices for his job, there always have been. But he’s worked hard to balance life and work. “This, our family is the most important thing in my life.”

“And I love how dedicated you are to us.” Your eyes track away from his just long enough to find the envelope again, and you smile. “You should look at the photos, love.”

He takes the envelope from you and swallows. “I wish I could have been there.” He murmurs, pulling out the sonogram photos and immediately tearing up. “Another set of twins.” He chokes out. “My babies.”

“We both got good news today.” If you’re honest, you had guessed it would be twins even before the doctor confirmed it. It felt the same as the first time you were pregnant. Intense morning sickness and faintness with an equally intense feeling of giddiness. Even the cravings have been similar so far.

He practically giggles and swoops you into another hug and kiss. Elated that you are happy about the news and he will never be unhappy about more kids. “I love you.”

“I love you too, honey.” Your hands on his cheeks are warm and doting, and your thumbs sweep over his cheekbones as you grin. “Whatever you decide is your path, the kids and I will be here to love you and be so proud of you.”

“I’m going to take it.” The idea of being able to pad the college savings for the kids is important. “But, the second it doesn’t work with having five kids, I’ll retire.”

“It’s your decision to make.” The way you nod — emphatic and beaming with pride — has you in giggles all over again. “Director Pike.”

“It’s our decision.” He reminds you, although he’s also grinning. “Nothing comes before you and the kids.”

“Tonight I’m afraid that can’t be true.” But you steal one more eager, excited kiss from him anyway. “It’s Alex’s night. And we should get out there and help with finishing the decorations before Juan comes and hunts us down.”

“Yes we should.” He can’t help but press a kiss to your lips again. “I love you so much, Hummingbird.”

No one eats quite the way congressional staffers do in the week leading up to elections, and Alex’s electoral team is no exception. The buffet that Sydney and her team put out is refilled a second time before things calm down, and the team is watching votes roll in on laptops, phone screens, and the big TVs all around the inn. Some folks are outside, where a little bit of a party is starting to brew as Alex’s lead in the polls becomes clearer and clearer. You, your siblings, the soulmates, and your parents are all piled into the front sitting room together with the big TV turned on and Alex’s campaign director is hustling back and forth between groups of people.

“They haven’t called it yet.” Alex hums, twisting his hands in his husband’s. He’s nervous and jittery and touching David seems to help him calm down. “The fourth and seventh district polls aren’t in yet.”

"I know, baby." David lets his husband's restless hands move in his as much as they need, standing steady as his rock while Alex gets his nerves out. "But look at what is in. We don't need every single vote for you to win, just a few more percentage points and you can put the finished touches on your acceptance speech."

“Ohhhh don’t jinx me.” Alex huffs, leaning over and closing his eyes as his head rests against David’s shoulder. “I don’t want to count my chickens.”

"Ba-gock." Junie deadpans the sound of a chicken as another district reports their numbers.

"Alex." Your hands are on his shoulders instantly. "Alex, look!" You insist, pointing to the screen. "Two percent more and you've got it!"

“Oh god, oh god, I’m gonna be sick.” He moans, eyes wide and he has to lean forward. “You never told me how bad this part of running is, mom.” He groans to the former President, currently sitting in her husband’s lap on the nearby sofa.

"And scare you off?" She laughs, unbothered and unworried for him. She knows he has this in hand, even if he doesn't. "Never, Al."

“Evil.” He huffs, making everyone else laugh. They’ve always had faith in him, maybe more than he’s had in himself and he knows that he wouldn’t be here without each and every one of you. “Distract me with something. Anything. Good news.” He begs, looking around the group.

You and Marcus exchange glances, and Junie clears her throat loudly. "Birdie went to the doctor today," she says loudly enough that there's no pretending it isn't the thing everyone has zeroed in on right away.

Marcus squeezes your hand and grins, unable to hide his delight. “And?” Alex demands, lifting his head instantly and looking over at you. “My latest niece or nephew?” He asks, thinking that the sex was determined.

"We just confirmed that I'm even pregnant again," you laugh, shaking your head at the question. You and Marcus probably stretched it a little going for your first doctor's appointment this time around, but you weren't really in a hurry when the signs were so clear — and so was the pharmacy test that you took. "But...we can tell you that the Pike genetics are strong." The grin that spreads across your face is broad. "It's twins."

Everyone gasps and starts celebrating. None of them are surprised, Selena just had twins last year, but they are happy. Alex jumps up, diving towards you to hug you. “God, I can’t believe it.” He whispers in your ear. “I’m so happy for you.”

"We'll have you kissing babies on the reelection circuit in no time." Though you hug your brother tightly, your eyes are on the television screen behind him. The announcement had taken your family's focus away from the campaign entirely, and that was apparently the magic touch necessary for more results to come pouring in. "Congressman." You poke his side slightly and nudge him back. "Alex, look."

“What?” His head whips around and his eyes bug out when he sees that they are declaring him the winner. The phones that have all been gathered on the coffee table immediately start ringing. “Oh my god.” He whispers. “Oh my god. I won!”

"You won!" David cries in turn, not that he had doubted his husband for a second, but so startled by the timing that he's thrown up his hands in the process.

“I won!” Alex lets you go, nearly jumping on David to kiss him. “I won!”

The room erupts in cheers, chatters, and rising voices that verge on shouting as more and more of Alex's campaign staff barrel in from the back garden. "Other direction!" You call, laughing when the room has filled but there are still more people who want to come in. "Back outside! Party goes back outside!"

It takes a moment, but the room clears and the garden is filled with the sounds of cheering and claps, whistles and exuberant celebrations. It’s been a long campaign season and they deserve to be happy for what they helped accomplish.

"I just want to say." Standing on the porch with a whole garden full of people, Alex stands with David at his side and glows. The pride of a well-run campaign and the excitement of a victory give him the same glow that you remember seeing your mother have over and over again, each election night of your childhood.

"I just want to say..." he repeats, laughing a little when it takes a few moments for everyone to quiet down. "My absolute most heartfelt 'thank you's." Everyone roars to life again with cheers and applause but only for a second. "We ran a campaign with integrity, transparency, and a whole lot of promises. Now the real work begins. Now we have to keep those promises, and build the good will with our constituents that will keep us moving forward. But tonight?" He takes David's hand, grateful to have his husband and soulmate there as his anchor. "Tonight we celebrate!"

Marcus holds you close, his hands on your shoulders as he watches his brother-in-law hug all the staff that have tirelessly worked to make tonight reality. “We are all damn lucky.” He murmurs in your ear.

"Hell yes we are." Turning around in his arms, you wrap your arms around your husband's waist and look up at him with a bright smile. "In every way, baby."

The sounds of celebration are loud enough to wake the dead, but the kids are zonked out in the third-floor apartment where they had finally given up trying to stay awake. Everyone’s kids are piled into the bed and having a sleepover even though it’s a school night. Your brother just won his election and will go on to become a beloved representative for his district. Marcus is slotted to become the Director of the FBI, a very important role that he had never originally let himself dream of.

Your inn is one of the best in the D.C. area and constantly packed, and most importantly, your pregnancy is proceeding nicely. It’ll be the last one, Marcus has already scheduled having a vasectomy done after the babies are born. He just hasn’t told you yet.

“Give it another ten years and he’ll be the first gay president.” Marcus predicts with a smile. “Despite what comes, I do know one thing.” The love he carries for you every day is shining through his eyes. “Our lives are amazing and I am so thankful to be here with you.” He promises. “Hummingbird has landed.” He tells you, using the code that had been used when you first met to signify that everything is just as it should be.

______

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[blarefordaglare]

Fan Joy July day 4

This one’s by @la-sera

Link: https://www.tumblr.com/la-sera/752542158668562432/for-the-single-drawing-request-what-about-legend?source=share

I enjoyed how you used warmer tones and cooler tones to work in harmony (I hope that makes sense) and overall just the color vibe of the piece. I also adore the line art and how you used a mix of shading with colors and hatching for some parts, like Hyrule’s neck or Legend’s cap. Overall the style is really beautiful and bright! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

___

“Alright, enemy camp to the right,” The traveler grinned confidently, a rare sight, yet the same intensity every time, “Want to aim for sub 10?”

Sure it was childish, it was irresponsible, it was immature, but every once in a while one will feel that longing-that call, that can’t be ignored. It was the call that pushed Hyrule to take that sword in the beginning, to realize that living isn’t the same as thriving. It was the call that got Legend out of bed that one night, that got him on a boat, that allowed him to wake up. 

“Heck yeah I do,” The veteran pulled out a fire rod, 1200 rupees was a scam, he should know, he can’t even count how many he has now, “I’m aiming for 9 minutes, max.” 

Hyrule let out a grin, “Just nine? I thought you’d be able to do eight,” He never had any family growing up, let alone brothers, and it only made the experience more memorable. For once he didn’t feel alone, but instead at ease. He felt he could make room for mistakes, and it wouldn’t allow the world to crash back down on him, “But I guess nine is alright, for a beginner.” 

“Oh you’re on.” Legend gave a challenging, yet playful glare, “Relay the rules to me?” 

“Not a scratch, not even a stain, no fighting more than 3 enemies at once, and most importantly,” he took a step back. No help.” 

“That’s not fair!” He never fought alone, well that was a lie, he’s fought alone countless times. But that was in his world, where the monsters were just monsters and no blood that was darker than the night sky plagued them. Now though, that wasn’t the case.

“Three…” 

“Hey wait a minute, I’m talking-“ He got cut off. Another thing about Legend is that he hates being ignored. He’s been ignored all his life, his pleas to spare one more person, to go another day with peace, even to have his bed back. It was too much ignorance to bear.

“Two…”

“Listen!” The sharp tone of his voice alerted the camp. Four bokoblins, two lizalphos, and one moblin. It shouldn’t be a problem-it’s only seven. Seven black blooded monsters that almost killed a guy. All the more fun.

“One…”

“I hate you.” That was a lie, he hoped the traveler knew that. What he hated was the fact he aimed too high-seven monsters, nine minutes. It would have to take less than two minutes to defeat one. 

“Go!”

He ran, allowing his boots to carry him at a high speed. Adrenaline pulsed through his blood as he allowed the hot flames to engulf some of the monsters. Hard ones first, easy ones last. It was a bad strategy, nobody would let him live it down, but that’s what he does solo. His steps were calculated and precise, a mix of muscle memory and an attempt to not get a single drop of blood on him. He allowed instinct to take over for the most part, leaving him surprised when he noticed there were no more enemies to defeat. 

“Seven minutes and thirty two seconds!” The familiar voice of the traveler called, “That’s a new record!” He waved his arms up in celebration, and Legend couldn’t help but echo the action. 

“Aww yeah!” Legend beamed at Hyrule, “Next time you’re going to try.”

“Fine, but for now let’s celebrate.” 

The two cheered, their voices echoing in the clearing. Their voices coaxing out the pure joy that was hidden long ago, a joy that could light up anybody’s day. Waving their arms in the air, basking in the dopamine from the achievement. It was stupid, sure, but it mended the soul in a way no amount of labor could. 

[poppitron360]

In honour of today being 55 years since the first stone thrown at the Stonewall Uprising, here is some Valgrace fanfiction (definitely that and not the fact that I just happen to have finished it yesterday).

I am so, incredibly grateful to all those people who rioted from June 28th-July 3rd in Greenwich Village, New York, just so that I could one day have the right to post angsty little fics about these two fictional teenagers on my tiny Tumblr blog (That is what they were fighting for, right?). We have come so far, haven’t we? And I think it’s important, next time we read a silly little Valgrace fic or reblog some Solangelo fanart, we owe it all to a Black Trans Woman who threw the first stone (Seriously, guys, read into the Stonewall Riots, they are fascinating).

So the message here is… Don’t be mean, just read Valgrace?

Anyway-

Summary: AU where Valgrace is canon meaning that Leo came straight back to chb after BoO. Set at New Year’s, following the aftermath of the battle with Gaea and Leo’s “Death”. Leo struggles with flashbacks, having just exploded and therefore probably being traumatised. Jason comforts him, and they realise- even though they’re still scarred from the war- just how lucky they are to have each other, and to, for once, not have the weight of the world resting on their shoulders.

CW: Angst I guess

Word Count: 2,084

VALGRACE

Jason was swaddled in his scarf and winter coat. Leo had settled for just a jacket and gloves, after much grumbling.

“I don’t get cold like you do!” He’d complained, “I’m toasty warm!!”

He’d agreed to put on the jacket for the necessity of pockets (because his magic infinitely-pocketed tool belt apparently wasn’t enough). Jason, on the other hand, was freezing. He needed a sweater, a coat, a hat, a scarf AND his hot-water-bottle of a boyfriend to keep from turning blue. He’d spent most of his childhood at Camp Jupiter in California, where even wintertime was balmy. Here on Long Island, the air bit like an alley cat.

They walked down to the beach, the cold night air stinging Jason’s cheeks. Jason put an arm around Leo’s shoulders and rested his chin on the top of his curly-haired head, which made it awkward as they walked.

“…What’re you doing?” Leo asked.

“Mmm…” Was Jason’s response, “You’re warm…”

Maybe it was the whole “raised by wolves” thing, Jason had always had the urge to curl up on a comfortable lap and snore.

Leo didn’t push him off.

They stepped gingerly down to the docks, hug-walking as they went. A crowd of people had already gathered along the shoreline, looking out towards the ocean. A large clock had been set up to face them, the time reading 11:52.

“Eight minutes to go…” Jason said, taking his chin off of his human chin-rest and looking at Leo, “It’s been a hell of a year, hasn’t it?”

Leo nodded, “Yeah. I died.”

“We fought giants and monsters.”

“And I made a super awesome plate of enchiladas, my best yet!”

“Those were some really good enchiladas.”

Leo looked down, and Jason could see a little hint of sadness in his eyes. Then he looked back up at Jason.

“I’m glad I have you, Jason.”

Jason put an arm around him and pulled him closer as they looked out towards the clock and the sky and the sea, “I’m glad I have you, too, firefly.”

They stayed there, enjoying each other’s company, waiting for the New Year to drop, and for once, they were just regular boyfriends.

Then the countdown started.

“10… 9… 8…”

Jason looked into Leo’s deep brown eyes and smiled. Everything was perfect.

“7… 6… 5… 4…”

Leo smiled back, yelling the numbers alongside everyone else.

“3… 2… 1…”

They kissed.

“Happy New Year!!!!!”

And then, the first firework exploded, and everything went wrong.

Bang!

Leo’s face flashed with panic, his eyes darting around wildly like for a moment he’d forgotten where he was.

Bang! Bang!

Fireworks lit the sky, but Jason wasn’t looking. He was watching Leo’s face as the colours flashed across it, reds and greens and purples. The bright twinkle that reflected in his eyes was supposed to be that happy spark of wonder at the fireworks, but Leo’s eyes were filled with utter terror and dread. He pulled away from Jason, and took a few steps back, momentarily stunned by the explosions.

“Leo, what’s wrong?”

BANG!!

Leo yelped and wrapped his arms around his head, covering his ears. He stumbled back, colliding with some other campers in the crowd. They briefly stopped their whooping and cheering to shoot him a disgruntled look, then turned back to the sky.

Jason stepped forward, but Leo was looking around, confused, like his mind had gone somewhere else. His breath was short and panicked. His eyes were watery, staring in fear at the sky.

Bang!! Bang-bang!!!

Leo unwrapped his arms from his head, and used them to push through the bodies of staring people, stumbling and scarpering away from the noise.

Jason chased after him, “Leo, wait! Where are you-“

Leo had disappeared into the crowd.

Jason spent the next few minutes searching for him on the beach, no luck. He ignored the bangs behind him. The crowd ooh-ed and aah-ed at the explosions of light. Jason pushed through them, calling Leo’s name. He was getting worried. Leo knew how to disappear if he wanted to. If he was running scared, Jason wasn’t sure if he could find him before he got himself hurt. Why did he have to end up dating the flight risk? No, that was unfair. Leo’s runaway childhood was through no fault of his own. But if he was frightened, Jason had to find him quickly.

He searched the Hephaestus Cabin. Nothing. The forges. Nothing. The only other place Jason figured Leo would hide was Bunker 9. And sure enough, as soon as he’d entered, the large industrial lighting rig slammed on, and he could see Leo curled up against the wall, shivering. And Leo didn’t get cold.

“Leo?” He asked, “You okay?”

Leo shook his head, his hands still clutched around his ears. His voice was chocked with tears.

“Expl-explosions-” He managed, “Loud… very loud…”

Leo’s whole body was shaking. Jason crouched down next to him.

“When you… when you died? In that blast? The fireworks brought you back to that moment?”

He remembered the confused look in Leo’s eyes as he watched the colourful explosions light the sky- like he was somewhere else, hearing a different bang.

“I… I…” Leo wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand, and took a deep breath. He seemed to regain his composure, enough to look Jason in the eyes. “It was so painful, Jason… I was… and I didn’t understand why everyone was clapping.”

Ever since Leo had come back, he’d kept that same bubbly persona going. Jason hadn’t even realised how much actually dying had scarred him, but of course, it must have done. Leo never let on that he was haunted by that, but Jason could see it now clear as ever. Every firework would bring him back to that morning, when Leo had vaporised Gaea with the force of his own power.

Jason nodded. “I understand. The flashbacks… they’re hard. Particularly when everyone else seems to be unaffected. Your whole life flashes before your eyes and they’re cheering. It’s scary… But you’re safe now. Nothing’s gonna hurt you here.”

Jason wrapped his big strong arms around Leo’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Leo buried his face in Jason’s lap and began to sob. Jason stroked his hair.

“Shh… it’s okay… you’re safe now… you’re safe…”

Outside the thick walls of Bunker 9, muffled bangs continued. Leo whimpered at every single one.

“It’s okay, Leo… they can’t hurt you… you’re safe with me…”

“I’m sorry…” Leo sobbed.

“Shh. Shh. Sorry for what, Baby?”

Leo rolled over in Jason’s lap so that he was looking up into his eyes, “For ruining New Year’s with my stupid PTSD. You should be out there enjoying yourself instead of worrying about me, crying like a baby who’s afraid of a little fireworks.”

“No. No. Stop thinking like that. Stop it, right now. As your commanding officer, I forbid it.”

“You’re not my commanding officer!” Leo complained, indignantly, “Those are only to Roman soldiers. At Camp Half-Blood, we’re both head counsellors. We’re of equal station.”

“Fine,” Jason rolled his eyes, “As your boyfriend then. You’re banned from calling yourself stupid. You’re not stupid, Leo. You’re hurting. You’re scared. It’s okay, you have a right to feel those things. It’s totally normal, considering what you’ve been through.”

Leo was silent for a long time. Then he said, “Actually, I have the title of Supreme Commander, so I outrank you.”

Jason chuckled, “How about Prince then? My dad is King of the universe.”

“Holy Hephaestus, you’re right… I’m dating a freaking Prince.”

They laughed and settled into comfortable silence for a few moments. Then Leo’s expression turned sad.

“I know that I- I joke about it a lot, but I was… dead. I was actually dead, Jason.”

“I know… I know…”

“Like, I actually died. And… I can’t help but wonder… how she felt…”

“You mean your mom?” Jason asked.

Leo nodded, “How much pain I was in… I put her through that…”

“No… Baby, no…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know it was Gaea who caused it, but it was my flames that burned her. Or maybe it was smoke inhalation or something, I dunno, but it came from me. The pain she felt was a direct result of something that came from inside me. And I felt it, too. When I killed Gaea. It was horrible. I finally understood how she would’ve felt. Except it would’ve been worse for her, wouldn’t it? Trapped in that workshop, helpless, alone, as the flames rose up.”

Leo paused. Jason just studied him, silently. At the lack of new input, Leo continued, “What was she thinking? Did she see the fire and know that I’d done that? I mean, she didn’t know that Gaea was there. In those final moments, dying by her son’s hand, did she think I’d let her down? Because I couldn’t control it? Did she realise with a sinking feeling that all her worst fears were confirmed, that I really was too dangerous? Was she disappointed in herself for not raising me right? For not teaching me to be more careful? It’s just… once you’ve faced your own death, experienced the thoughts going through your head in those final moments, you start to wonder what other people thought during theirs. I dunno…”

Jason thought about that, “No, no, I get it. I understand.”

It had taken a while for Leo to get to a point where he could talk to Jason so openly like that. Where he could share the thoughts that haunted him, articulate his feelings in a way that Jason could understand. Even if he didn’t understand sometimes, he still listened. But most of the time, he could empathise with Leo- probably more than Leo realised. Jason himself hadn’t been dead, but he’d come close. And what Leo had said about thinking in those final moments… that resonated with him. He thought about his own mom. Did she think about him at all in that car crash? Did she regret abandoning him, not reaching out? Or did she not care?

“I get it,” Jason said again, “I mean, I actually lost you. It might’ve been only for a day or so, but for a few moments you weren’t on this planet at the same time as me. I don’t really want to think about it, the fact that I could’ve…”

He stroked Leo’s hair, as Leo started to cry.

“I’m sorry, Jason…” He mumbled.

“No… No, what’re you sorry for?”

“I don’t know,” Leo admitted, “Putting you through that, I guess.”

“Oh, Baby… No… I mean, it hurt, but you came back. All is good.”

“And I’m sorry to my mom.”

“She’ll forgive you. She knows you didn’t mean it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I can take an educated guess,” Jason told him, “I’m Prince of the freaking Cosmos, remember? You have to listen to me.”

Jason rubbed Leo’s shoulder as Leo lay in his lap, “Look, Leo, you’re valuable. You’re needed. You deserve love, and forgiveness, and patience, and everything else. You’re brilliant, and awesome, and cool.”

“I know,” Leo said.

“Then why don’t you believe me when I tell you that? This was not your fault. You don’t need to keep kicking yourself about it. You did good. You saved the world. You avenged her death. You are loved. You are cared for. You are forgiven.”

Leo burst into tears.

“Shhh… it’s okay…” Jason soothed, “You can rest, now.”

“You can rest, now…”

Long had Jason waited to hear those words. And now, looking down at Leo, eyes closed, head rested on Jason’s knee, his breathing getting increasingly steadier- he realised how much Leo had needed them, too. And he found, with absolute certainty, that it was true for them both. There were no explosions. There was no Gaea. They were safe, here, at Camp. They had each other. It would take time for the nightmares to end, for the scars to fade. It would mean Leo would not be able to enjoy fireworks for a long time, maybe never. But they were safe. They could rest here, until daybreak. They might even skip breakfast and sleep in all morning. No urgent quests needed to be undertaken. No oracles prophesied their deaths. Leo had Jason to dry his tears. Jason had Leo to keep him warm. They were beaten and damaged, but they were alive. And they could rest, knowing that they had each other. For that, Jason was eternally grateful.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 395: Cat n Mouse, p6 (Bliss Interlude Number Two)

“Yes, for sure our female viewers are excited about the grand opening of Far Horizons Evolution Center,” replied Julie Winters, reporter for Channel 5, handing the microphone to Melissa herself, “but let’s hear more about you…” The casual-seeming interview was being done in the back of a big limousine. 

While onscreen Melissa giggled, Aubrey Henson just sat back on her couch and groaned. Her hands ran up and down her thighs. She was home alone, and for the ninth time tonight she was watching this news piece on replay, a teaser interview of her Office Manager by the local news station that was covering the office’s expansion. All part of the station’s plan to establish itself as a voice of the rising order of female leadership, it wanted to do a profile on Melissa. This was the first in a series on her that would be airing over the coming weeks. They’d already started doing other interviews of other local women leaders, but this was the first installment on Melissa. It had played tonight on the evening news, and was set to go again on the late night edition. People everywhere in the city would see it, people everywhere would see her. Aubrey had recorded this earlier broadcast.  She had been so excited about seeing Melissa onscreen, but had no idea it’d feel like this. 

“Oooohhh….” she moaned, listening to Melissa’s answers to the reporter’s questions. A little about work, but mostly simple, personal things. Her likes and dislikes (‘kitties!’, ‘mean people!’). How she gets her hair so pretty. How tall she was. 

“Six-foot eight…!” Melissa replied, laughing with microphone in hand and - for that answer - looking straight into the camera with those gorgeous, flashing eyes and big, white smile, “And still G-G-GRRROWING!!”

“Nnnngh oh my god…fuck…” Aubrey responded, her purr turning into a near-growl. “She’s so beautiful!!” She’d rewatched Melissa’s answer to that over and over and over earlier. They know, they know, Aubrey gasped to herself, in illicit, electrified excitement as her hands slid between her thighs. Now they all know.

Channel 5’s Evening News had a viewership of 56,000, making it the new leader in the Adults 25-54 demographic for the market, male and female. 

“Six-eight!? Well that’s amazing!” the off-screen reporter replied to Melissa, “and I’m sure that you’re - haha! - going to have a lot of admirers after this interview! Can you tell our viewers where they can find you again?”

“Oh, at Far Horizons of course! I’m normally…oh <giggle!> you mean, like, my social media? It’s…”

“OH. MY GOD,” Aubrey belted out, to the empty living room of her well-appointed apartment. It was small, but she had decorated nicely. “AH JESUS FUCK!” She was imagining men, men everywhere, subscribing, following Melissa, lurking, staring with glazed eyes, unzipping and offering themselves up to- “OH FUCK MELISSA YOU’RE A GOD!!”

In case you’d been wondering, when left to her own devices and away from other ears, Aubrey Henson tended to curse like a sailor. She was becoming preternaturally sensitive, a natural empath, but damn…the mouth on her. Like making up stories for  her journal, it was one of her secret vices. 

Aubrey had taken the time, earlier, to check Melissa’s Instagram numbers, for her public account. They’d begun to skyrocket exponentially as soon as the news piece aired. Just looking at those climbing - so fast! - had nearly made her soak out her panties again. She was sure that if she checked in now, there’d be another doubling, or redoubling again. To make matters even - nnngh! hell! - more overwhelming Melissa was, at the present moment, obviously with him. One Bliss had come earlier, and another one was-

Coming On

Oh god oh shit oh god here it comes it’s coming it’s coming it’s coming

So

Fucking

HARD.

Aubrey’s bra was about  to burst. She could feel her spine lengthening, her pelvis widening.

Nnnnngggh!!!

Melissa Melissa Melissa my god I love you I want to be yoursss yours to command make me morrrrrrrrrrrrrre…

=============================

[emisprocrastinatingbywriting]

Alone and Forsaken

Chapter 17 Summary:

Six months ago, Joel Miller had thought that the sky was falling, and now life seemed to be going surprisingly well. Having gotten over his fears of being a dad, he was slowly starting to get excited at the possibility of a future, something he never thought possible. However, a new fear has emerged, one that reminds him every day that the life he has can be taken away. With bodies showing up closer and closer to the gates of Jackson, what will he do when he is forced back into reality?

Warnings: Fluff & Smut, Breeding Kink, Pregnant!Reader, Angst/Comfort Abandonment Issues, Canon-Typical Violence Towards Infected, Talks of Joel's Past Self Harm, Two Brothers Sitting in a Booth - Five Feet Apart Because They Have Problems Expressing Their Emotions.

A/N:

Hello everyone! I hope you guys have been doing well :)

This week has a bit of a time jump, all the way to summer. Reader is now eight months pregnant and Joel has actually chilled out (as much as someone like our man possibly can lol). Life is domestic and sweet, but it can't go on like that forever.

Warnings for the chapter include pregnancy stuff obviously but also talks about fearing the loss of children, along with chats between brothers about Joel's past self harm. And of course, because I'm not a complete monster, smut ;)

Let me know what you think!

Chapter 17/20

Chapter 17: Even The Pawn Must Hold a Grudge

Sweat dripped down Joel’s face, stinging his eyes as his shovel dug into the cool dirt. The July weather had been uncharacteristically warm for Wyoming and he found himself missing the modern luxury of air conditioning as he searched for the leaking pipe. With no depressions or sinkholes around the dining hall, he and the few other Jackson residents on the job had been digging pointless holes in search of the leak for a week. It wouldn’t be so bad if the last vestiges of June hadn't drifted away so quickly, leaving him sweating in the sweltering heat as he worked. 

When Joel had agreed to this job, it had been advertised to him as a favor. Six months ago, when he had finally figured out what was ailing his mate, he had made the conscious decision to do everything in his power to keep you happy. That meant that he had to be present, at all times, a feat that had scared the shit out of him at first. Whether it be for check ups, late night cravings, or the inevitable mood swings that came with pregnancy, Joel Miller turned himself into the type of  man you would want to weather a storm with. That meant that if his pregnant mate wanted him to take less patrol shifts, needing him to be closer just in case she popped, then Tommy was out of luck. 

Which led him to where he was, with sweat burning his eyes as he worked. The strained nerves at the base of his spine jolted with each movement, sharp jabs reverberating down his legs every time the tip of his shovel jammed into the dirt, but he ignored it. What he needed was to get this finished so that he could get home, so that he could get back to you. By the time he finally saw the first signs of the leak, with the water rushing up from the small hole he had made to dampen his boots, he was moments from quitting. He sighed, an elated chuckle coming from him at the sight. 

“Found it!,” Joel shouted as he heaved himself up to sit on the edge of the pit. 

A whistle came from behind him and he turned his head, rolling his eyes at the mustached man that strolled towards him. 

“Thank Christ, thought you were gonna have a heart attack if ya didn’t find it soon,” Tommy laughed, his eyes twinkling with playfulness. 

Joel scoffed and lifted himself from the dirt with a hoarse groan, wiping his jeans as he stepped forward to meet his brother. 

“M’fine, healthy as a horse. Just my damn back,” he returned, rubbing his dirty hands on his brother’s coat as he passed. 

Tommy laughed and batted him away, chasing after him once he had wiped the dirt from his jacket. As Joel walked back towards the shed, leaving the rest for the younger guys, he listened to his brother’s incessant rambling and tried his best to answer each statement with at the very least a nod. It had been like this between them for the past few months, ever since the younger man had opened up to him at the bar. Tommy had left the door open for him, even letting him have a peek at some of the darker parts of himself that he had never seen, and Joel had tried his best since then to do the same. He was growing and it was as awkward as it was joyful. 

In reality, Joel’s version of open communication was a bit more reserved than his brother’s but it was progress. A few awkward conversations had been had, the majority of them making him feel so uncomfortable that he could barely look his brother in the eye, but they had found some common ground. The most obvious one being the conundrum of fatherhood in such a world. Talking about the things they had done and the people they had lost was excruciating, but it was nice to know he wasn’t the only one that was worried his blood soaked hands might stain the child. Tommy had slowly become someone he could rely on, or perhaps he had always been, and the more your stomach grew, the more he had needed him. 

The first time Tommy showed up for him had been a month after Joel found out, when you had excitedly pointed out the bump that had formed seemingly overnight. He had smiled and acted thrilled at the time, showering you with kisses and love before he quietly excused himself to tear into the stables for his patrol shift like a maniac. Tommy didn’t say anything at first, quietly allowing his brother to race through the patrol like a hellhound was biting at his heels, but it was once they had encountered trouble that the younger man had put his foot down. 

Joel had been reckless that day. The horde near the music store was small, with enough clickers to ensure that it would be a tough gig, but not enough to call in backup. Usually they would have gone in silent, as it was safer and left less room for failure. However, that day he had acted like an idiot and gone in guns blazing. He can still remember his brother’s surprised shout when he opened fire, the younger man cursing as he took his gun out and joined in on the mayhem.  

Much to Joel’s dismay, Tommy was not willing to let it slide as he would have once upon a time. The walls had come down. Joel was no longer the vicious smuggler of the Boston QZ, known to all for his brutality and bloodlust. And Tommy wasn’t a marine or a firefly anymore, meaning that there was no cause left for him to fight for except his own family. Which meant that after the horde was dispensed, his brother had slapped him up the side of the head. 

“Hey! What’s up your ass?,” Joel hissed, rubbing the red handprint burning against his skull. 

“What’s up my ass? What’s up YOUR ass? You’ve been off all day and now this? This shit was stupid as fuck, you know that,” Tommy snapped. 

A silence ensued, one where all that Joel could hear was the sound of his blood rushing in his ears and the snow that fell to the middle of the store in heaps from the holes in the roof. He watched as his brother chewed on his lip, looking like he was trying to see through his skull to pick at his brain. Another few tense seconds passed, the staring contest growing more heated by the second, but it was shattered when Tommy suddenly laughed. 

“Was it the bump or the heartbeat that freaked you out? For me it was the heartbeat, made that shit waaay too real,” the younger man snickered. 

He blinked, eyes widening as he tried to shove down the ingrained urge to clam up. You had broken him of the habit but it was Joel that needed to do the work to ensure it didn’t return. 

“Um, it was the bump. We can’t uh - I can’t see the baby you know? The heartbeat was cool to listen to on the stethoscope but I couldn’t see it. Then one day she wakes up and boom, there’s our baby sticking out of her stomach. I could see it and it felt so…,” Joel trailed off. 

“Real?,” Tommy guessed and Joel nodded. 

They walked back to the horses in silence, stopping only to peek into the pharmacy on the off chance that they might find something of use. Aside from collected dust and broken glass, the place was empty, leading them to quickly abandon it. Joel was ready to get back, to avoid his own feelings by burying himself in a series of jobs that took him away from the reality waiting for him at home. Perhaps if he worked hard enough, he wouldn’t notice how round you were getting. Maybe that would halt the panic attacks he had been hiding from you. 

An arm had stopped Joel when he moved to climb onto Rusty, drawing him from his spiraling thoughts. He lowered his foot, turning to face the younger man with a cocked eyebrow. 

“Look, I was scared shitless by that heart beat, but you know what I did to get over it? I talked to her, to Maria. You want to put yourself on the line during patrols? Fine, but how well do you think she’s gonna take it when you wind up dead? Think it’ll be good for the kid?,” Tommy prodded. 

Joel felt his chest tighten at those words, aching at the thought of you having to go through something like that. Even in the past month he had noticed other changes, like how much more emotionally vulnerable you had become. According to the timeline that was the doctor’s best guess, you were three months pregnant at the time and had been stuck to his side at every possible moment, while also being prone to bouts of crying. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what a loss like that would do to you in this state, not to mention the precious cargo you were carrying.

“Go home and tell her that you’re scared. I promise you that it’ll help. Lord knows I needed Maria to bring me back to earth more than a few times,” his brother sighed, patting him on the shoulder before he turned to hop up on his horse. 

That night Joel had gone home and followed Tommy’s instruction, waiting until you were cuddled up to his side in bed to share the worries that filled him with so much shame. He had used the cover of night, with the curtains you had made for the bedroom blanketing the room in such a potent darkness that you couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. As he had whispered his fears, you had listened carefully, pressing yourself deeper into his side to soothe his growing panic. And to his surprise, his brother was right, you had quelled his fears with one simple conversation. A simple conversation that had then led to a lovemaking session that was so sweet that you had both shed a few tears. 

Since then, Joel found himself confiding in Tommy more and more, something that he could’ve never imagined after his last stint in Jackson. His brother had showed up for him and he was trying his best to do the same. Which led him to where he was now, listening to the younger man gush about his son. 

“- and do you know what the kid told me? Dad, you’re too old to go on the swingset. Me! He called ME old. Can you believe that Joel?,” Tommy asked incredulously. 

Joel chuckled, “Uh yeah? Frankie’s right, you ARE fucking old. Might break a damn hip just by trying to climb up on that thing.”

His brother guffawed and punched him in the arm, which only made him laugh harder. 

“Asshole, you’re older than me. If I’m old enough to be breakin’ hips, you must have one foot in the grave you geriatric fuck,” Tommy grumbled. 

Joel shook his head and stepped into the workshed, discarding the gardening gloves so he could gather his things. He picked up the ridiculous lunch box you had started packing him in the mornings, the cartoon red dog on the front of him making him sigh each time he saw it. Nevertheless, Joel always took it with him, despite some of the looks that the Jackson residents gave him when they saw him slip it into his bag for patrols or carry it down the street to the neverending construction jobs. He didn’t care what they thought anyways. Plus, if his girl was going to go to the trouble of packing him a lunch, he wasn’t about to refuse it. 

With the bag in hand, Joel left the shed and shut it behind him. He spotted his brother across the street talking to Maria, the serious looks on their faces halting him in his place. His stomach clenched and he prayed that their conversation wasn’t about him. However, instead of waving him off so that he could return home, Tommy motioned for him to come closer. Joel dragged his feet every step of the way, his stomach churning at what he knew was about to be asked of him. 

“Tommy says you found the leak,” Maria stated, her gaze as pointed as ever. 

Joel nodded, “Yes ma’am, me and the crew are gonna bail it out tomorrow. I’ll replace the pipe and then we should be good to turn the water for the dining hall back on. The younger guys can fill the hole back up once we test it a few times.” 

She nodded, her eyes flitting to Tommy for a half of a second before they refocused on him. He sighed at her determined expression. There was no way he would be able to get out of patrols anymore. Something had happened, something that meant Joel’s expertise was needed. There was no other reason Maria would take time out of her busy day to talk to him specifically, especially with their history. 

“M’sure that the others can do all of that. That Dina is pretty handy, we’ll get her to replace the pipe and then the crew can do the rest,” Tommy piped up. 

Joel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The group effort from his family was a little much, even for someone as uncommunicative as him. With the sweat soaking through his shirt and his back aching like a motherfucker, he was not in the mood to be swindled. So instead, he focused his attention on Maria. Despite their rocky start, Joel had learned to appreciate how straight forward she was and that was exactly what he needed in that moment. 

“Knock it off will ya? Just tell me whatchu want,” Joel sighed. 

Tommy looked at his wife, his eyebrows raised as she straightened her spine and switched back into leader mode. 

“Four bodies were found this morning, all taken from different patrols that have gone missing in the last few months. All looking like they have been kept alive and tortured. We’re pulling the newer patrollers off of rounds, we need people with experience,” Maria explained. 

Joel sighed and looked at his feet, trying to avoid what he knew his answer had to be. The people going missing patrols had been a problem since before he knew about the baby, but they had only gotten worse in the months that followed. The first had been chalked up to desertion, the second infected, but by the fifth missing group Jackson had to come to terms with the fact that there was a threat lurking in the woods. 

From the second you heard about the bodies being dumped near the gates, he had decided to take a break from patrols. Maria had agreed with the promise that the arrangement was temporary, the understanding being that he could be called back at any moment if the camp needed him to. It was a sweet deal, one that Joel was surprised to have gotten considering the fact that he was already going to be taking time off for the birth and first few weeks of his baby’s life. He knew that his free pass wouldn’t last long but he had hoped for just a bit longer in Jackson for your sake. 

“I’m back on the schedule?,” Joel grunted, a heavy weight forming in his chest at the thought of having to break the news. 

“Me and you will ride out tomorrow at dawn. There’s been some weird shit going on in town, we’re gonna go check it out and then come back. Gonna keep the patrols short for now, should be back for lunch,” Tommy said, sheepishly kicking at the dirt. 

He sighed, unable to keep the distaste from his face as he stood before them. There was no answer he could give other than yes, he knew that, but it didn’t make it any easier. 

“I know that you’re worried about her, but I can promise that she can handle you being gone for the morning. She’s a grown woman,” Maria reminded him. 

Joel sucked his teeth and nodded, wordlessly agreeing to their request with a scowl. Without another word, he turned and walked away. He knew that it was abrupt, but he needed to go before he exploded into a rant about how well you would actually handle his absence. Or better yet, how he’d fair knowing that you were back at home worried sick about him. 

“Joel!,” his brother yelled. 

“If you want me to be able to go, I better go tell her. She’s ain’t a big fan of surprises right now, so thanks,” Joel called over his shoulder, not even stopping to turn back. 

They didn’t try to stop him after that, allowing him to hightail it back home so that he could have the difficult conversation. Joel dreaded the look on your face but he didn’t dare slow his brisk pace, knowing the truth in his previous statement. The hormones had driven you to nest in your freetime, along with plan every other second of the day in order to welcome the pup into a completely prepared home. He went along with the lists, happy to fix up the house, brainstorm baby names, and help paint the nursery, but he drew the line when you tried to pencil in times specifically for fucking. 

“But Joooooel, that way you won’t forget to take care of me before work… And after work… And also maybe on your lunch break,” you had whined, making him bite back a grin. 

The funny thing was, he knew that you were being absolutely serious. Although the pregnancy hormones had made you more emotional, they had also made you incredibly horny, a fact that he had been thoroughly enjoying for months. 

“S’too much honey, just tell me when she needs me and I’ll be there. You know that,” Joel had laughed. 

Of course, that had led to you telling him you needed him right at that instant, and filthy fucking had quickly ensued. As a result of that conversation, there was only one part of the day that remained unplanned, while every other second was accounted for. He allowed it, knowing that the lists saved you from going into a nesting frenzy and trying to complete a million jobs at once. Even after you started working at the clinic during your third month, something he hated due to the physical toll but ultimately had to support, you still kept a strict schedule. And now, he was about to fuck that coveted schedule up by going on patrol, which meant he was scared shitless. 

“Good afternoon Joel,” a voice called, breaking him from his reverie. 

Joel looked up from his dirt caked shoes, reaching the driveway just as your mother and Allie stepped off of it. The glossy ringlets that adorned the little girl’s face were drenched in red syrup, the culprit being the popsicle that she slobbered on. He chuckled at the sight, thankful that he didn’t have to deal with the handful of a toddler once all of the sugar hit her system. 

“Afternoon ma’am,” he drawled, nodding to your mother respectfully. 

Although he could tell that she still didn’t trust him at all, something that he completely understood given the hell she had been put through, your mother had been slowly coming around. Whereas months ago she could barely stand to be in the same room with him without pointing out his faults, she had become cordial to him. With where they had first become acquainted being so desolate and the embarrassment of their second encounter, Joel counted that as a win. 

“You should get in there. I told her she shouldn’t be doing all that work but you know my daughter, too stubborn for her own good,” she warned, grabbing Allie’s free hand so she could pull the girl towards home. 

Joel thanked her and turned on his heel, picking up the pace until he was barreling through the foyer. He stomped through the house, remembering how you had recently tried to climb up a ladder to clean the gutters by yourself when he had been just a few minutes late getting home. For six minutes Joel had tried to convince you to come down from the three steps you had taken towards the roof but you had refused, leading him to lift you from the ladder and carry you kicking and screaming into the house. The fight that had resulted from that had been legendary, but you had ultimately agreed that you shouldn’t be climbing a ladder with nobody around, let alone while you were pregnant. 

When he saw that the living room and piano room were empty, he was close to tears. All Joel could think about was the million little jobs you could have gotten into, the ones that you had promised you would let him do despite your insistence that you were perfectly capable. It wasn’t so much that he thought the pregnancy was making you weak, more so that your center of gravity was so off that it was affecting your balance. Every day it seemed like he was catching you as you stumbled. That and the dizzy spells you had been getting recently were enough reason for him to be terrified at the thought of you in high altitudes. 

“Darling? Where are you?,” he yelled, speed walking towards the back of the house. 

“In here,” replied a melodious voice and he hastened to follow it. 

The kitchen was a disaster when Joel walked in, with all of the bowls, plates, glasses, and other various kitchenware items scattered over the floor and crowding the table in the breakfast nook. The mess was huge, with all of the cupboards stripped of their usual contents in order to make way for a good scrub of the inside, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about it in the slightest. Not when you were the only thing he could see. 

The fact that you were shirtless didn’t surprise him, tits out seemed to be a constant since you had hit the third trimester and he was not about to complain about the free show he got every day. Being eight months pregnant meant that you had grown out of your clothes first, then his as well, meaning that you were scraping by with annoyingly oversized extras donated from the community. The baby was big, so big that the word twins had been thrown around a few times by the doctor, but he was actively ignoring that insight at every turn. One problem at a time, he thought to himself. Joel was a tall kid and his brother was no runt either, that was what he had to remind himself of each time the topic was brought up so that he didn’t have a panic attack. 

Still, with the heat of summer in full swing, Joel found you walking around in nothing but a pair of painties most of the time. The weight of the child was already enough, but the added heat meant that during your spare time you would likely be naked to combat it. Which was how he found you, in nothing but a pair of black panties as you stood on the counter, scrubbing the inside of the cupboards. 

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?!,” Joel gasped, stumbling through the maze of kitchen supplies that you had created while he was gone.  

“They need to be cleaned Joel, who knows what kind of germs are in here. What if the baby-”

“The baby isn’t going to be anywhere near the inside of the cupboards!,” he cut you off, an urgency in his voice as he continued, “Please, you gotta get down honey, you’re gonna give me a heart attack. You’re gonna fall, I can feel it.” 

You snorted and turned, the swell of your stomach peaking out to him. Seeing the taut skin pulled over his growing child did little to soothe his alarm and Joel reached out a shaky hand to help you down. His breaths rattled in his chest, heart thumping wildly as he waited for you to take it. Furrowing your eyebrows at him, you looked at it for a second before placing your hand in his. He knew that you only caved because you could sense his growing panic, but he didn’t care, too frazzled to do anything but help you down. It was only when your feet touched the floor that Joel let himself breathe. 

“Joel,” you chided, “You’re so dramatic, I was perfectly fine! Plus, it needed to be done. It was on the schedule and you weren’t here so I-”

“So you come get me next time, or you go get Tommy, or Cooper, or literally anybody else to do the job! I told you they both said that they’d be more than happy to help and I-” 

“But I told you! I don’t want to bother them, especially Cooper, he already has to deal with Jake being on bed rest. And plus,” you sighed, “I don’t want to have to put on those stupid clothes, it’s already hard enough to do it when my mom comes over. I basically begged her to leave today.” 

Joel groaned in frustration and leaned down, pressing his forehead into yours to remind himself to take a breath. He knew of your aversion to clothes as of late, as well as your stubborn need to always do things yourself, but it didn’t give you a pass on putting yourself in danger. What he needed more than anything was to not worry about you every second of the day, yet you seemed adamant about working yourself to death while carrying his pup. Nevertheless, he also knew he had to be gentle in his approach. The last thing he wanted was to make you cry. 

“Okay sweetheart, I understand,” Joel started, “But you can’t be getting up there and I think you know that the doc would agree with me. S’not safe for ya. If you really don’t want to stay dressed then give ‘em the job and frig off, tell them you're going upstairs for a nap.” 

Sighing, you rolled your eyes at him but nodded. 

“Fine, but if one of them sees me naked you can’t be mad. Not my fault if they come up and catch a peek,” you shot back, earning a chuckle from him. 

He shook his head, “I won’t, promise.” 

Joel smiled when you kissed his jaw, happy that you were willing to go along with his request. He knew that the limited mobility was driving you nuts, but that was nothing compared to him. The thought of you getting hurt while growing his child was close to turning him into a lunatic. If he had it his way, you would let him do everything and get your exercise by taking easy walks throughout town on your days off like the doctor had suggested, but nothing with you was ever that easy. Of course you had disregarded that, still working at the clinic while you did insane jobs around the house in your free time that turned his hair even grayer than it already was. 

“Okay, just let me just put all of this back. I’m fucking starving and there’s no way I’m cooking in this mess,” you said, pulling away to get back to your ridiculous task. 

He grabbed you just as you turned away, shifting your hips so that your belly was pressing against his front. Joel placed his hands on the swell, admiring the way your body had changed to accommodate the child growing within. Fine white lines stretched over the skin, each one serving as a reminder of the strength it took for you to house the life that the two of you had created together. He brushed his hands over the bump, his gaze reverent as he looked up at you.  

“Baby, you know that I think you are capable of anything right?,” Joel asked tentatively. 

You nodded. 

“So, you know that it’s nothing personal when I tell you to sit your ass down so that I can do it, right?,” he pressed on, making you roll your eyes at him again. 

“Hmmmm… Fine, but I want food and then I want you to take a nice cool bath with me,” you conceded, leaving a kiss on the bald patch of his beard before you walked away. 

Joel shook his head, watching as you strolled down the hall with hawk-like eyes. The extra few pounds that pregnancy had brought on were looking mighty fine to him from where he stood. To his delight, much of it had gone to your ass, the same one that swallowed the black fabric of your panties deliciously as you walked away. Along with that, he had been thrilled by the added volume to your hips, which taunted him with their swaying each day. If the fact that you were his mate and you were carrying his baby wasn’t enough to make him grovel, which it was, the new edition to your curves made him want to kiss the ground you walked on. 

“Doing a lot of staring and not a lot of working, mama’s hungry,” you hollered back to him as you turned into the living room. 

“Yes ma’am,” Joel answered dutifully, spinning around to take in the disaster of a room before him. 

He worked incredibly fast, the thought of leaving you hungry too much for him to bear. The kitchen was put back together in no time, and Joel soon got to work on making you something to eat. Ignoring the oatmeal he knew you hated, as well as the meat which had started to make you sick about five months into your pregnancy, he decided upon a simple vegetable soup for lunch. 

Music drifted from down the hall, the sound of an old country ballad gracing his ears as he cooked. The record player had been a gift from Tommy and Maria, a generous edition to the guitar his brother had left in the piano room for Joel to find upon his arrival. Since getting it, you used it everyday, having read somewhere that music would help with the baby’s brain development. There were even a few times that he had been goaded into playing the guitar for you, singing ever so softly to the growing bump in hopes that she might be able to hear him. Joel wasn’t sure about how much he believed in the baby being able to hear him from within the womb but it made you happy, which meant he loved it. 

Once the soup was finished, he poured it into bowls, grabbing the biscuits your mother had brought the previous day to satiate your hunger. Joel walked down the hall and he felt his heart melt when he reached the living room. He smiled at the sight of you sitting on the couch, cradling your stomach as you mumbled sweet words under your breath. For a few seconds he watched, a warmth like no other wrapping around his heart and squeezing it when he realized you were singing to the pup. It was a Kenny Logins song that he had once tried to teach you on the guitar eons ago, in a desolate cabin in the woods with nothing else to do, and he couldn’t believe you remembered it. 

When you stopped to smile at him, Joel practically teleported to your side, not wanting to spend another second apart. In fact, all he wanted was to sit and watch you eat the meal he had prepared, to witness first hand how he had nourished both you and his child. It scratched an itch deep inside of him, one that screamed at him every second of the day to safeguard what was his, one that needed to ensure that nothing bad ever happened to his loved ones ever again. Every moment of every day since finding out he was to be a father again was about that itch and he clawed at it constantly, unwilling to let the worst come to pass for a third time. 

“Thank you baby,” you sang, eyes lighting up when you noticed the biscuits he had brought. 

“Soup too please, can’t have you running on nothing but treats,” Joel reminded you, making you groan and nod as you took the bowl from him. 

Only when you dug in did he calm, with Joel slowly munching on his food as he eyed you. He tried to be as subtle as he could while watching you eat, knowing how uncomfortable it made you, but he couldn’t help it. Joel didn’t know why, perhaps it was some crazy alpha instinct or perhaps it was his previous losses, but he found himself desperate to satiate every need, even when you didn’t ask him to, Every time you finished a meal, he was already up, collecting your bowl to refill it even if you claimed to be stuffed. There had even been a couple times where he had snuck his own food onto your plate, willing to go hungry if it meant you would be cared for. 

“Ya know, if I didn’t love you so much, I would probably say that you’re being a little creepy with the whole watching me eat thing,” you said around a mouthful of food. 

He huffed a laugh, “I know, I don’t mean to stare sweetheart. Guess, I just need -”

“You need to fuss,” you finished for him, having heard it more than a few times, “I know, just maybe not while I’m eating. Makes me feel weird and that makes me not want to eat. I need to fucking eat Joel.” 

Those were the magic words that forced Joel’s gaze downwards, leaving him to stare at the contents of his bowl with newly found interest. He felt his ears turn red at your words, slightly embarrassed by his inability to let it go. There was no reason for him to be so interested in your eating habits. He knew that you had been keeping up with every dietary requirement thrown at you by the doctor, but his hormone fueled brain was not as reasonable as him. 

Joel was so focused on trying not to look at you that he jumped when he felt your arm brush against his. When he realized that you were scooching closer, he smiled, loving the feeling of your body melting into his side despite the heat. With you practically sitting in his lap, arms knocking against his as you ate, he didn’t need to stare to know that you were enjoying the meal. Instead, he could feel it. 

“Thank you honey,” Joel murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek before he returned to his own meal. 

“Mmmm-hmmm,” was all he got in response. 

The meal was finished in relative silence, aside from the soft music coming from the record player and the sounds of spoons scraping against bowls. Joel let you finish off the biscuits, waving you off with a knowing smile when you tried to be polite and offer him some. When you were done, he collected the dishes and walked them back to the kitchen. He managed to reach the sink just in time to drop them in with a bang, practically sprinting back when he heard the telltale sound of you trying to get up off the couch. 

“I can do it myself,” you grumbled as he helped haul you up. 

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, remembering how you had spent the entire day sitting on the floor of the piano room a week ago because you had made the mistake of kneeling down to retrieve a dropped book. Joel had found you absolutely fine, other than a bladder that was begging to be relieved and a growling stomach. Still, he had made it his mission to help gather you from as many surfaces as possible since then. 

Joel hummed, “I know baby, just let me give you a hand now and then. Makes me feel better.”

Sighing at his obvious attempts at distracting you from the fact that you were gravitationally challenged, you nodded and allowed him to pull you towards the staircase. Joel climbed the steps glued to your back, ready to catch you at the first sight of a shaky limb. He knew that this part you could still do, but that didn’t mean that the glossy wood didn’t make him incredibly nervous. By the time you waddled into the bedroom, Joel could tell that you were annoyed with him so he quickly moved to the bathroom to start your bath to hopefully quell the incoming storm. He poured the herbs and salt that Maria had given you into the water, the same ones she had used to soothe her back when she was pregnant with Frankie, and reminded himself to thank her. As he watched the water fill up, he heard you call his name and walked back to the doorway. 

“Yeah?,” he answered, poking his head into the bedroom. 

And there you were, lying on your back with your feet dangling off the edge of the bed. Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of your panties pulled only halfway down to your knees, knowing that you were either too tired or too round to get them off.

“I need help,” you admitted, sounding absolutely heartbroken at the admission. 

He stepped forward, “I can see that.” 

You eyes snapped open and he watched as you shakily propped yourself up on your elbows to glare at him. Joel wiped the smirk off of his face, raising his hands in defeat as he moved to untangle the black fabric from your knees. When they were off, you quietly thanked him, flopping back against the sheets with a sigh. 

“Something on your mind darling?,” Joel asked carefully, not wanting to poke the bear. 

“I’m just so fucking big right now, I can’t even take my own underwear off Joel! And I’m pretty sure that if it is just one baby that’s in here, it’s going to be like the size of a five year old when I finally push it out. How am I supposed to do that? My coochie is NOT that big,” you groaned. 

He sighed and grabbed your hands, carefully peeling you from the bed so that he could kneel between your legs. Although you whined at the change, you still allowed him to haul you up and quickly grabbed his shoulders for stability once you were upright. In turn, Joel placed one hand on your back for support, the other one resting protectively over your midsection. 

“Honey, I’m not going to act like I know anything about being pregnant, but I do know that you can do this. Sure, she might be a big ass baby, but she’s going to come out and we’re going to love her. You’ve got this,” Joel encouraged, drawing soft circles over your aching back as he did. 

“She?,” you piped up, eyes twinkling with delight. 

With the ultrasound machine in Jackson broken beyond repair, the two of you had been unable to see any of the fine details of the pup, including the sex. Nevertheless, with most expecting omegas doomed to go through the pains of pregnancy and childbirth completely by themselves, with no guarded walls to protect them or supplies to aid in their efforts, Jackson at least had one doctor who could safely monitor and birth the baby with slightly retro but usable tools.  

Once Joel had recuperated from his first baby-induced meltdown, and the two families had been officially told the news, both sides had begun debating on the gender. His family was convinced it was a boy, while yours claimed to know that it was a girl. Neither of you had named a side yet, as the only thing the two of you cared about was that it was healthy, but that didn’t mean Joel didn’t have his own hopes. Having only ever been a father to girls, he couldn’t picture the child as anything other than that and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to. 

“Oh, I dunno honey, it’s just a guess. Only ever had girls so you know…” he trailed off, worried that he might have ticked you off. 

“A baby girl,” you tried out, smiling at the thought, “You’ll be a good dad either way but there’s just something about you as a girl dad that does something for me. Can’t wait to see you with her, you’re definitely DILF material.” 

He grinned, “S’that right?” 

His eyes twinkled with enthusiasm, only growing darker when he saw how you squirmed under the weight of their stare. This too had been a new edition, with any reminder of how the other would look nurturing the child making the both of you go insane. Not only had he chosen a good mate, one that he loved and cherished so much it hurt him at times, but he had found one that felt the same about him, one that would extend that love to his baby. 

“C’mon sweetheart, let’s get you in that tub. I put them salts and shit that you like, might help your back some,” Joel muttered, shaking himself from his thoughts as he pulled you up from the bed. 

As Joel led you towards the bath, he felt your feet drag every step of the way. He mumbled encouraging words, ignoring your soft whimpers so that he could grab your hands and help ease you into the tepid waters. Once you were fully sat down, you moaned at the weight being lifted from your spine, blinking up at him with a dopey grin that made his heart pump a bit harder. He knelt beside the tub, reaching in so he could press his hand into the bump as you got used to the weightlessness of the water. 

“Get in with me?,” you asked him sweetly, your voice light and airy in the silence of the bathroom. 

“I don’t want to crowd ya honey, gotta make sure that you’re comft-”

You shushed him, reaching out to muffle his words with your palm. Joel stopped and grabbed the hand covering his lips, kissing the back of it once in surrender. He lifted himself from the side, motioning for you to scooch forward as he rid himself of all of his filthy work clothes. From the moment his boxers had slid off, he felt your ravenous eyes burning a hole through him and he tried not to blush at the feeling. His cock twitched against his thigh and you smiled like a cat that had just got its cream, zeroing in on it as he begged every higher power there was to help him keep cool. In a daze, you bit your lip and Joel resisted not to surge forward to grab it with his own teeth. Clearly, you felt the same way, as he had to remind you three times to move forward. 

“S’okay baby, I’ve gotchu,” Joel chuckled, grabbing a washcloth as he eased himself down behind you. 

With careful hands, he washed your body clean of any bit of sweat or dirt that plagued its surface. He stopped every so often, to either kiss or rub the tension from a particularly sensitive patch of skin. By the time Joel had worked his way down to your hips, you were leaning into him, purring with satisfaction and close to falling asleep. He wanted you to rest but he could tell you were still holding on, still waiting for some sort of release, and he knew exactly how to help. 

Joel skimmed his hands down your thighs, causing goosebumps to raise on the soft skin there. He brushed the pads of his fingertips over the insides of them, drawing long lines up and down your thigh, stopping short of where you wanted him each time. A hitch of your breath as he ghosted his index finger over the crease in your leg was the only indication he got of your arousal, making him do it again and again until you broke. You whimpered, bucking your hips against him in frustration at his neglect of your drenched slit. 

“What is it darling? Need me to take care of you?,” he whispered in your ear, making a gush of slick drip from your pussy. 

You nodded, “Please.” 

Normally, he would have made you beg for it, but with how keyed up you had been lately, he knew that he needed to make this quick and devastating. Wasting no time, Joel wrenched your thighs apart, lifting them so that they hung on either side of the tub. With you left wide open for him in his lap, he skated his digits downward until they slid along your drenched seam. Even with the water sloshing over your pussy, he could still feel the sticky slick that poured from your hole. 

“Aw babygirl, she’s so wet today. Did she miss me while I was gone?,” Joel teased, pulling back the hood on your swollen clit so that it was exposed for him. 

“Yes, yes, yes, my pussy always misses you, she - oh f-,” your voice was cut off by a loud whimper, one that made his neglected cock twitch hard against your back as he plunged two fingers deep inside of you. 

Joel gave you no time to adjust, greedy for the desperate noises your overstuffed pussy would make for him. While one of his hands curled fingers up inside of your walls, rubbing that mind breaking spot with the pads of his fingers until your legs started to shake, his other drew wicked circles against your throbbing clit. 

“Oh my f-fuck, oh Joel! Don’t stop - mmmm, just like that - don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, shit!,” you cried out, with your head thumping back against his shoulder as your orgasm drew near. 

While pressing sloppy kisses against the side of your neck, biting down on the skin hard enough to leave tiny love marks, Joel increased his efforts. Instead of plunging his fingers in and out, he switched up his tactic, choosing instead to shake them inside of you. He made sure to hit that sweet spot every time, the vibrations of his quick movements making your eyes roll back almost instantly. The circles he drew on your pulsing nub grew heavier and you keened, walls beginning to tense up already. 

“Can feel you fightin’ it sweet girl, why? Don’t you want to be a good girl and cum for me? Know that pretty pussy does, she’s cryin’ for it. Can’t you hear her?,” Joel goaded, practically growling it in your ear. 

“Joel, Joel, Joel, please, I need, I need” you begged, too fucked out to fully spit out the request. 

He chuckled, cock jumping between his legs at the sound of his name falling from your lips so sweetly. As he stroked your pussy towards an overwhelming release, fingers wringing out as much pleasure as he could from the inside of your walls and your swollen clit, he made sure to ingrain each whine or whimper into his memory. They would go with the rest of his collection of lewd memories he had of you, each of them being stored away for the days he was too riled up to bother you, the days where he had to lock himself in the bathroom to jerk off to the thought of you like some sort of horny teen. Not that he had to do that often. 

“What darling? What d’ya need? Tell me baby, I’ll give it to ya,” Joel whined, losing his edge from his own growing desperation to hear you cum. 

“Kiss me,” you answered, turning your face to nudge your nose against his. 

Joel captured your mouth in a searing kiss, tangling his tongue with yours in a way that he knew that you loved. His fingers were clenched so tightly within your walls that they were stuck inside, forcing him to dig the calloused tips of his fingers into your most sensitive spot with increasing demand. He bit down on your lip, earning a filthy groan from you, and you were gone. 

Water splashed over the side of the tub, soaking the floor and likely his discarded clothes, but he couldn’t care less. Not when you were thrashing in his hold, breaking away from his mouth so that you could choke on your own cries as you came. He kept his pace up, allowing you to feel every single wave of your release until you started to try to shove him away. 

Ever so carefully, Joel eased his pace, slowing it little by little until he stopped altogether. When he finally pulled his fingers out, you shuddered but gave no complaint, too blissed out to care about the absence. He kissed the side of your sweaty face, easing your legs off the side of the tub with care so that they didn’t strain any further. 

“Feel better?,” he drawled, moving you forward in his lap so that his hard length didn’t poke at your backside. 

You nodded dreamily, “I’d enjoy the afterglow a lot better if you didn’t keep pushing me off your lap.”

He hissed when you reared your hips back, his angrily weeping cock getting nestled between your ass cheeks in a way that was so perfect that he almost cried. 

“Baby - ah! Shit, this ain’t about me. Was just - oh god damn - was just doing that for you. Need to take care of you, my pretty girl, fuuuck,” Joel groaned, unable to stop himself when you reached back to position him near your entrance. 

Being as big as you were, there wasn’t much you could do in terms of riding him. However, with the water helping with the extra weight around your abdomen, you managed to lift yourself up enough to drop down on his cock. The glide into your drenched channel was relentless, with your lack of mobility allowing you no other choice but to take him all in one go. Joel hissed at the feeling of your tight pussy opening up for him, clenching and unclenching around him in a way that almost made him go cross eyed as you took him down to the root. 

“Fuck, okay,” you wheezed, panting hard at the way the head of his cock was pressed against the spot that made you see stars, “That’s all I’ve got, the rest is all you baby.” 

He laughed and you did too, the sound of it reverberating off the walls as he took back control. Joel kissed your shoulder, gripping your hips so that he could lift you until only the head of his cock remained inside. You mewled, hands flying backwards to yank at his hair and dig crescent moons into his thigh in protest. 

“Don’t worry babygirl, I’ve got this,” Joel assured, kissing your shoulder one more time before he slammed you back down onto him. 

He kept a slow but hard pace, bringing you up until nothing but the head remained nestled inside each time. When he speared back into you, he grinded you against him, ensuring that his cock rubbed every sweet spot from within. Most of the water had been sloshed out but neither of you cared, too immersed with one another to focus on anything but the growing tingles spreading out from where you were connected. Each thrust was answered by a call of his name, something that was making him dizzy with lust. 

“Shit darling, love how you sound calling out my name. So fucking sexy all fucked out on my cock like this. Already fucked a baby into you, what else do I have to do for this needy pussy? Do I gotta keep her plugged up with cum? Fuck, or maybe I gotta fuck her in front of the whole town, make sure everyone knows she’s mine,” Joel rambled. 

He groaned when your walls tightened up around him, squeezing his length so hard that his eyes rolled into the back of his head. There was something about the way you reacted to just his voice that drove him crazy. It was as if he was fucking both your mind and body, taking you apart in every possible way before he slammed the pieces back together again, and it made him feel wanted. The high pitched whine he got in response to his filthy words made his jaw tick and he slapped your ass with just enough pressure to get your attention. 

“Answer me,” he hissed, grinding you even harder against him. 

You nodded desperately, “N-Need it, need you, desperate for your - ah, shit - your cock! Let you - oh my god - I’ll let you fuck me anywhere daddy. Don’t care where, as long as it’s you fucking me, love mmpf, love your cock.” 

Joel bit your neck and you squealed, going limp at the surge of hormones that rushed through you at the sharp reminder of his claim. He chuckled darkly, uncaring of the way his muscles burned from exertion and how his heart thumped wildly against the walls of his chest. All that mattered was making you feel good, of caring for you in the one way he knew that he could easily do. 

“Wanna know a secret honey?,” he asked, “S’not just you that’s desperate. I’m starvin’ for ya, every single day. So fucking sexy, so smart, gonna be such a good mama to our - fuuuck - to are pup. Shit, tell me you’re close baby, I need to fuck my cum into you. Gonna let you have it.”

The wanton noise you made was incoherent but he understood it, that particular whine being the one that usually signaled an incoming release. Joel stuck his face in your neck, worrying the skin between his teeth as he rambled all of the depraved promises he could think of. He knew that you loved to hear him talk, he felt it with every spasm of your walls, and he used it to his advantage. As Joel’s balls tightened up, his cock twitching wildly in the vice grip of your pussy, he laid it on thick in hopes that it might push you into a release before he exploded. 

“F-Fuck baby, if you weren’t already knocked up, I’d fuck another baby into you right now. Pussy needs me to keep her fed, gonna fuck so much of my cum into her so that she’ll never want anyone else. Shiiiit, she’ll never need anyone else. She’s mine, you are fucking mine,” he growled. 

“Yours, yours, yours, yours,” you chanted, too gone to do anything other than repeat. 

“Then cum for me darling, want to feel my girl milk my cock,” Joel commanded. 

The ecstasy fueled scream you answered him with was so instantaneous that it nearly knocked him off of his rhythm but he held strong, continuing his pace as you gushed torrents of slick into the dwindling bath water. For one twisted moment, he thought about how the herb scented water would taste with your slick mixed in and it made his mouth water. His cock twitched hard inside of you, jumping at the thought of your delicious taste. You convulsed on top of him in turn, letting out ragged moans and broken whimpers as your pussy greedily sucked him dry. 

“Cum, mmmmmm fuck Joel, want your cum,” you begged, eyes rolling into the back of your head as another wave of pleasure dragged you under. 

“Christ honey, m’gonna cum - shiiiiiiiit,” was all Joel managed to get out before he was cumming, mindlessly locking himself inside so that he could explode inside of you properly. 

His knot breached your hole and you squeaked, already so stuffed as it was, but you soon dissolved into a whining mess. He felt your walls suck at the base of his cock greedily, as if he had the power to somehow impregnate you twice. The groan that he let out at the thought was loud, signaling another round of toe curling releases that had him shaking beneath you. 

You were no better, whining and grinding him well past the point of overstimulation. Joel let you do it, clenching his jaw while you wantonly circled your hips enough to keep you both cumming until he could physically give you no more. By the time you were sated enough to stop, his cock was raw and his abdominal muscles ached from the exertion of his releases. He let out a sigh of relief when you went still, silently praying that this would be enough of a workout to force you into a couple of hours of much needed rest. 

Joel eased you further into his lap, allowing you to lay back against his front until he could pull his cock out without hurting you. With how full your body already was, he felt a flash of guilt at knotting you in such a state, but he also remembered how you had begged him to keep you knotted nearly every day for the past six months. Every moment that you weren’t busied by home improvements or work, you were on him. This led to constant bouts of desperate love making, with him having to get more creative with the positions the heavier you got, followed by him helping you come down with the sweetest touches afterwards. 

Most of the water had been splashed out of the tub and onto the floor, leaving an awful mess that he would have to clean up when he could disentangle himself from you. With barely any water left, the full weight of the baby was pressing into you, making you wiggle against him in discomfort. Unsure of what else he could do to ease your pain, Joel did the only thing he could think of. Having heard of the trick from his brother, he cupped the bottom of your swollen belly and lifted it from your lap, easing some of the pressure that had been gathering there. He smiled at your sigh of content, nuzzling your cheek in response. 

“Never stop doing that,” you mumbled dreamily. 

He chuckled, “I won’t honey, at least not for a while. We’re gonna be stuck here until it goes away.”

Joel’s knot was still very much swollen, angrily inflated and locked deep within your walls as you both lounged. Until it went down, the two of you were trapped but neither of you cared. Instead, he took the time to truly appreciate the woman he loved, lifting your belly for a few minutes at a time as he whispered sweet words into your ear. And you returned the sentiment, cooing at him as you helped scrub the dirt from his tanned skin. There was no rush, just two lovers worshiping each other with all of their might, staying connected in the most intimate of ways as they did. 

When the two of you were cleaned, both in mind and body, he carefully pulled himself out of you. He soothed the absence he left with soft kisses, holding you tight until you calmed once more. The line of kisses along your neck finished with an obnoxious smooch to your cheek and he laughed when the smacking sound made you giggle. With you finally soothed, he slowly pulled himself up from behind you, careful not to jostle your lax body too much. 

“Alright, let’s not spend the whole evening here,” Joel mumbled, kissing your shoulder before he lifted you in his arms. 

With your body rendered useless from his thrusts, it was easy for Joel to cradle you in his arms as he walked you to the counter. He placed you down in between the two sinks, fetching a towel to dry the dampness from your skin. Once he was done, he grabbed the oils he had procured for you in town. After hearing you complain about the burn of your stretch marks, he had made it his mission to find a cure. The few tools he had traded to get the bottle was worth it to see the happy tears you had shed the first time it soothed them. Who needed a hacksaw anyways? Not him, not if the alternative was watching you cry about the angry lines that had bloomed across your midsection. 

While Joel worked, he allowed you to play with his hair, forming ringlets around your fingers that he knew would only grow with the heat of the summer air. Each time you had taken a pair of scissors to his hair, you were always careful to leave it a bit longer than he normally would, but he allowed it because he knew how much you loved his curls. Not to mention how much he loved the attention you gave him because of them. By the time your belly and hips were slathered in a layer of the sweet smelling oil, every strand on the top of his head was accounted for. 

“Okay baby, nap time?,” he asked through a yawn. 

The heat of the day had caught up to him, making him feel like he was awake standing up as he readied himself to lift you again. Sleepily nodding in response, you threw your arms around his neck and sighed as he transferred you from the counter to the bed. Joel placed you down gently, laughing when you refused to release him from your hold. 

“Can’t exactly lay on top of ya right now darling, gonna need you to let go,” he reminded as he carefully pulled your arms from around his neck. 

“Ugh, another reason why your kid needs to come out as soon as she can,” you groaned. 

Joel snorted and scooched in behind you, forgoing the blankets to combat the summer heat that filled the room. Instead, he draped himself over your back, kissing your neck as he helped cradle the swell of your belly. 

“My kid, huh?,” Joel questioned, the playfulness evident in his tone. 

“When she’s being annoying, yeah she’s your kid,” you deadpanned. 

He chuckled, nipping your shoulder so that you broke into another fit of giggles. As you laughed, he pulled you closer, burying his nose into your hair so that he could huff at your sweet scent. After a while, you calmed and leaned back into him, allowing him the access to snuffle at the gland on your neck. It lulled him, pulling him into a trance where all he could do was hold on for dear life as your scent engulfed him in a bubble of trust and adoration that he had never known before he met you. 

“Love you baby, get some sleep,” you whispered to him. 

“Hey, that’s my line,” Joel shot back. 

The groggy laugh he got in response made him smile. 

“My bad, go ahead.”

“Thank you. Love ya honey, get some sleep. See? That’s much better,” he teased. 

You chuckled, “Whatever, dork.” 

Joel hummed at that, too tired to send back any more responses with your body glued against his so perfectly. It didn’t matter that there was a layer of sweat forming between you, what mattered was how perfect his life was at that very moment. He was half asleep, cocooned around his soul mate, his best friend, the only reason his life was worth living, and he was happy. 

Joel was older than he’d once thought he’d be, having imagined during Sarah’s lifetime that he might meet his soulmate while his daughter was in middle school. Then, when that obviously didn’t happen, he had predicted that it would happen when she was in high school. Then, when the world ended, he had no choice but to watch that dream die alongside her. Nevertheless, life is fickle, and somehow it had all come at a time when he least expected it. It had come at a time when he had given up on life altogether, which often made him wonder whether you had been sent to him. He was not a believer of any higher power, but with how often he talked to them in his dreams and while in his loneliest moments, he sometimes wondered if it had been his girls. 

As Joel felt your body go lax against the covers he listened to the sound of your even breaths, softly brushing his hands over the new life beneath your taut skin. Soon, Joel would be a father again, something that had once terrified him to the point of an all out breakdown. But at that moment, he was ready, unshaken by the previous heartbreaks of his traumatic life. If his girls HAD sent you, they would likely be looking out for you and their incoming sibling as well. Soothed by you and thoughts of the children he had once had, he allowed himself to take a moment of rest, tangled up with you atop of the sheets as he drifted off into sleep. 

- You - 

The first thing you noticed was how hot it was. It felt like the surface of the sun was glued to your back, pounding bursts of sunlight into your flesh as you roused from sleep. Not to mention the heat of the air around you, which at this point was downright tropical. When you cracked an eye open, you huffed in annoyance, noting how Joel had once again forgotten to leave the screen door to the balcony open so that the evening air could come in. 

The second thing you noticed was the foot that was jammed into your bladder, repeatedly kicking the poor organ until you hissed at the familiar urge building in your lower abdomen. In an effort to not literally piss on yourself and the human furnace behind you, you quickly slipped from Joel’s arms and waddled to the bathroom as fast as you possibly could. When you made it, you sighed in relief, still embarrassed at the time a few weeks back where you were not as fortunate. 

That was a moment you hoped to never have to live through again, as you were forced to look your mate in the eye and tell him what you had done. You remembered how your face had burned with embarrassment as you explained that you couldn’t get down on your knees to clean it up without his help. Of course, Joel had waved you off, cleaning it by himself without a single word of complaint or jest, but it still made your stomach churn thinking about it. So much so, that the two of you had made a pact to never speak of it again. 

When you were done, you washed up, sighing at the bags that had gathered under your eyes. Sleep was a luxury that you seemed to only be able to obtain for small amounts of time. Naps had reigned supreme so far and you had the enormity of the child to thank for it, with her limbs constantly knocking into organs and getting stuck in your ribcage. That and the inherent need to make the home presentable for the baby, as if a newborn would care about things as trivial as dusty cupboards. 

Nesting called to you, constantly dragging you from sleep to complete the most trivial of tasks while Joel slept. Most of the time they would be left unfinished, with you either too frazzled to complete them or Joel eventually dragging you back to bed, but your brain continued to send the urges nonetheless. Which was why when you finished in the bathroom, you didn’t return to where the man you loved was snoring into his pillow. Instead, you pulled on a pair of clean underwear and veered right, padding towards what would soon become your child’s room. 

The two of you had chosen a room on the other side of the hall, close enough so that you could hear the baby cry out but not so close that they might hear anything from behind a shared wall once they got older. Joel had laughed when you had suggested that, shaking his head as he agreed to switch his top choice of potential bedrooms. It was a good sized room, one with a deep closet that was already filled with a modest amount of hand-me-downs that Maria and other Jackson residents had dropped off. Some of them needed to be sewed up but you didn’t mind, touched by the kindness of the multiple strangers who had come bearing gifts once you had begun to show enough for other residents to notice. 

After much debate, the room had been painted with one of the only two paint colors Joel had found in the basement that were still usable. It was a gentle green that didn’t fit any of the other rooms in the house, which made you dissolve into a puddle of tears at the thought of the previous occupants having their decorational dreams crushed. Joel had laughed and shushed you, allowing the hormone fueled crying spell to pass before he got to work on the room. With a few of Frankie’s shabby toys lining the shelves, blankets draped over a rocker that your mother had brought from her own home, and a crib carved by none other than Joel himself, the baby’s room was ready. 

Nevertheless, the hormone fueled beast you had become always had to take issue with something, which meant that you suddenly decided that the closet needed to be reorganized. Four nights ago, you had already done this, organizing each piece of clothing by color, but now that seemed ridiculous. What good would color do? With a huff of annoyance, you tore the clothes from the shelves, piling them on top of the rocker and dresser so that you didn’t have to collect them from the floor. 

After the closet was empty, you got to work on re-organizing them based on type of clothing. Pants first, then shirts, then jumpers, then onesies, and finally, the dresses at the very end of the line in case Joel’s prediction was wrong. Much better, you thought to yourself as you got into a rhythm, so locked into your task that you didn’t notice the figure watching you from the doorway. 

“Sweet girl, why didn’t ya wake me? S’gotta be way past suppertime now, doctor said you’ve gotta be eating regularly,” Joel called out from his place against the doorframe, making you drop the little dress in your hands. 

“I’m almost done! Just have to get these back up and then I’ll go get something. It won’t take too much longer,” you protested. 

When you tried to squat down to pick up the little piece of purple fabric, Joel swooped in, snatching it from the floor before you even had a chance to fully bend your knees. He tsked as he handed you the dress, his gaze chastising enough that he didn’t even have to say anything. You rolled your eyes but nodded, turning your back to him with a dramatic sigh so that you could complete the job. However, despite your attempts at focusing on the task at hand, Joel did not like being forgotten and quickly picked up the small pile of dresses that remained so that he could pass each of them to you. 

“Why’re you up? You were sleeping like the dead when I left,” you asked after a time. 

“You know that I can’t sleep long without ya in bed with me,” he sighed, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he continued, “Plus, I’ve been meaning to talk to ya but I got kinda distracted.” 

You turned then, visibly bristling at the foreboding words sent your way. Joel gulped when your pointed gaze met his, looking like he was cornered by a lion as he tried to spit out whatever it was that was making him sweat. 

“I uh, well… Today Maria came down and pulled me off maintenance, said that now that the pipe’s found that the crew can patch it without me,” Joel began, his voice trailing off near the end. 

At once, you understood. Grabbing the little blue dress that hung from his hand, you turned towards the baby clothes so that he couldn’t see your face fall. When Maria had originally pulled him, upon his request, from the patrol shifts, you had been told multiple times that the arrangement was temporary. At the time, temporary was a relative term, all that mattered to you was that Joel was safe in Jackson and free to come home when you needed him. Which, much to your dismay, was becoming more and more as your pregnancy progressed. With the bubble of security popped, you couldn’t help but sour at the sense of impending doom you felt anytime you thought of him outside the safety of Jackson’s walls. 

“What happened? She must have had a reason for pulling you from maintenance,” you prodded, keeping your tone light despite the lump that formed in your throat. 

He didn’t respond and again, you knew. Jackson was growing, but it was still a small town filled with people that had nothing better to do than talk. That meant that you had heard about each of the missing patrols, as well as the four missing bodies that had shown up this morning. Stupidly, you had hoped that Maria might call someone else, someone less bonded, someone with a mate who wasn’t eight months pregnant, to go after the group that was picking people off. But, ultimately you knew that she had to put Jackson first. Joel Miller was a renowned killer, a man who had survived against all odds for decades, meaning that he was the best person that she had for the job. 

“Bodies, um,” he cleared his throat before he continued, “They found some bodies near the gates, who knows, maybe it was infected -”

“Don’t lie to me,” you spat, “I’m pregnant Joel, not a fucking child.” 

Joel sighed and you turned, feeling guilty at the venom you had just spewed at him. He was scared to tell you because he didn’t want his pregnant mate to worry, you knew that, but you were getting tired of people tiptoeing around your emotions. What you needed was for him to be honest, not to sugarcoat the situation to the point of inaccuracy. All that lying would do was hurt you more once you inevitably heard it from the people in town. 

“Look, m’sorry about lying to ya just now, but I don’t want you worrying about me. Yeah, there were some bodies and yeah, they were our guys, but I’m gonna be okay. It’s me and Tommy gone for the morning, that’s it,” he rushed out, stepping forward so he could grab your face. 

“Okay,” was all you said back to him. 

He blinked, shocked at your dismissal, “Okay?” 

Pulling away, you nodded and placed the last dress in its place. The closet was done but you stayed there, staring at all of the clothes as you tried to put a muzzle on the swelling emotions that rose up from deep within your subconscious. Joel needed to go, he had no choice, and you would have to stay in Jackson without him. And if he didn’t return? There would be a child that would have to be raised without him, with said child never getting the chance to know the man who you’d move mountains for. Your mother’s hardened face flashed in your mind, making you want to vomit at the thought of having to raise his baby alone. It was all too much and suddenly, you were too aggrieved to be in his presence any longer. 

Stepping around him, you hurried towards the stairs, desperate to do something, anything, to keep from crying in front of Joel for what must have been the billionth time in the past week. It wasn’t his fault and yet you wept, causing you to feel even more guilty for the tears that streamed down your face as you ran away. The last thing you wanted to do was make him feel bad for something he couldn’t control but, as he bounded towards you and whipped you around to face him, you failed at hiding your heart break from him immediately. 

One thing nobody prepared you for when talking about pregnancy was how the slightest aggravation would lead to a torrent of tears running down your face, leaving a mess for Joel to clean up on a daily basis. He always said that he didn’t mind, that he loved taking care of you no matter what, but it still made you feel awful. He had his own worries and responsibilities that he had taken on since becoming a Jackson resident, but he had to constantly look after you. 

“Stop, it’s fine Joel. No, really! It’s okay, just ignore this, this is just hormones. I’m super g-good,” you sobbed, sounding ridiculous to even your own ears. 

“Oh sweetheart, m’sorry, you know I’d stay if I could,” Joel sighed, bringing you into a tightest hug he could manage considering the bowling ball that was strapped to your stomach. 

Another sob broke from your lips, this one more strangled than the last, and you kicked yourself for not being able to stop it. Every time you tried, the tears only worsened, to the point where you had no choice but to allow yourself to cry into his chest so that they would finally go away. Joel was patient, rubbing your back and whispering lovingly into your ear until you calmed. 

“Darling, I know you’re scared. Believe me, I don’t want to leave you alone any more than you want to be left, but it’ll be okay. Maria gave me a short shift, just a couple of hours and I’ll be back. Hell, you’ll probably sleep through most of it, we leave at dawn,” Joel said soothingly. 

You whimpered but nodded, trying to wipe the tears and snot from your face as you pulled away. He cooed at your weepy eyes, batting your hands away so that he could do the job himself and you let him. Joel smiled when he was done and kissed your forehead, his lips chapped yet soft as they lingered against the skin. 

“I’ll come home to ya honey, always will, I promise,” he mumbled. 

“You better,” you shakily replied, with your voice too weak for the words to have any real heat to them. 

Joel hummed, lingering for a bit to ensure that you were truly calm. It was you that pulled away, with a sudden kick to your ribcage serving as a reminder of the supper you had missed out on. Grunting at the feeling, you hissed and tried to use your hand to shove the little foot out from where it was caught. 

“She getting ya again?,” he asked, replacing your hand with his so that he could help untangle the wayward limb. 

“She gets mean when she’s hungry,” you grunted. 

When it came loose at last, you released the breath you had been holding in. The discomfort ebbed away, however the child seemed to be only more aggrieved by the sudden change and you soon felt more kicks to your most vital organs. Joel winced at your scowl, leaning down so he could get face to face with the swell. 

“C’mon sweet pea, take it easy on your mama now. I’ll feed ya both, but you gotta let her sleep afterwards, that’s the deal,” he bargained. 

The kicking stopped and you grinned, your heart glowing at the feeling of his soft timbre slowly soothing the pup. It was unfair how easily Joel’s voice eased the constant kicks that kept you awake all hours of the night, as if the baby had already chosen their favorite parent. You didn’t blame the kid, he was your favorite person in the entire world and you had no doubt that he would be the baby’s as well. 

“She gone back to sleep?,” Joel asked, pulling himself up again to kiss your cheek. 

“So annoying that she only listens to you. I’m the one literally growing her,” you answered, rolling your eyes to add to the effect. 

He smiled and shrugged, trying and failing not to look smug. 

“Can’t help it, I’ve got a way with words,” Joel answered, giving you one last kiss before he wrapped his hand around yours. 

Joel led you to the staircase, placing your hand on his shoulders so that you could lean on him as you made your way down. He was careful not to go too fast, wanting to act as a cushion in case you fell. It was slightly ridiculous, considering the fact that you had to make your way down every morning alone when he went to work or you had an early morning shift at the clinic. Nevertheless, you knew better than to argue and used his shoulder to ease some of the weight off your feet as you took the steps. 

He tried to lead you over to the living room but you refused, opting instead to follow him into the kitchen to watch him cook. Taking a place at the breakfast nook with the glass of water that he demanded you drink, your eyes raked over his backside as he whipped up some of the chili in the freezer that you had nicked from the dining hall. 

Joel’s shoulders were broad, so god damn broad that you couldn’t help but imagine how simple it would be for him to let a few kids hang off of them. Each movement he made reminded you of his strength and your mouth watered as you watched his arms flex while he stirred the pot. You were blessed with the sight of his bare skin, scarred and beautiful as the muscles moved beneath golden skin. If the doctor was right in her assumptions, there were two babies stuffed inside of you, two babies that would be blessed with a father who was strong enough to carry them both with ease. 

Neither one of you had said anything about it, not wanting to bring life to a possibility that was becoming more realistic each day you grew impossibly larger, but you knew there was a second crib carved. Joel had hidden it in the basement, stupidly believing that you would actually heed his request to not go down the creaky steps without him. Although you had kept it cool around him thus far, you had sobbed when you found it, overwhelmed with love for him. It drove you wild how easily he cared for you, despite his own fears about having another life, let alone two, to care for. 

This man had grown so much since you had first met him. He was your best friend, your lover, the person you’d live and die for, and he was devoted to you almost to the point of insanity. It was for that reason that you knew that his ability to provide for you would extend to your offspring, something that stirred something primal within you. 

As you squeezed your thighs together to get some relief, you couldn’t help but gawk at the smattering of hair across his chest when he turned to grab the bowls from the cupboards. Everything about Joel screamed man, from his wide frame, to the thick muscles that made his boxer covered thighs that much more enticing, to the fact that he had banished you to the table to relax as he made the meal. At this rate, you were pretty sure that there would be a wet spot left on the cushion when you got up from the booth. 

“You want me to pose or something?,” Joel drawled, breaking you from the lust filled haze he had caused. 

He turned and you jumped, pretending to rearrange the salt and pepper shakers on the table. Despite your best attempts to act natural, you felt the flush that crept up your neck that gave you away immediately. The click of the stove being turned off made you jump, along with the heavy footsteps that barreled towards you. By the time Joel was in front of you, lifting your chin to force you to make eye contact with him, your panties were absolutely drenched. 

“What’s got you all worked up baby? Can feel you staring a hole through my back,” he jested, softly running his thumb over your trembling bottom lip. 

“You’re so big,” you sighed dreamily, mesmerized by the puppy dog eyes that lovingly held you in their gaze. 

He cocked an eyebrow, a wry grin spreading out on his face at your words. 

“Not like that!,” you groaned, “Well, okay, yes you are big like that but that’s not what I meant.” 

While your cheeks burned at the admission, you buried your face in your hands and Joel laughed. Butterflies erupted from deep in your stomach, stirring up your nerves and making the baby give you a few kicks as a reminder to calm down. You tried but it was hard, especially when her father was so god damn attractive. 

“S’that right? How’d ya mean then?,” he teased. 

The sigh you let out was long and drawn out, making him laugh even harder at your sudden shyness. It was crazy how this man could make you feel so confident one moment, easily loosening your lips with lust so that you begged him to do the filthiest things possible to your needy pussy, and the next he could still make you feel like a giddy teen. In the time since you had met him, he had ruined you in the best way possible. Nobody would ever live up to Joel Miller, the man that could take you apart and make you whole again in the blink of an eye. 

“It’s just your stupid shoulders!,” you groaned, “ And your arms - God, they’re so big! It’s not fair Joel. Here I am minding my business, and all I can think about is how good you’d look with a few kids hanging off of them. You’re going to be such a hot dad, it’s going to drive me crazy.” 

He cocked an eyebrow, “A FEW kids? We don’t even have this one yet.” 

“Yeah but,” you sighed, “I know we aren’t talking about what the doctor said the other day BUT, if there’s two then I’m going to have to watch you take care of them. And the thought of you carrying them at the same time - ugh - my ovaries are exploding just thinking about it.” 

Joel snorted, getting a kick out of the way you squirmed at the thought of his broad frame easily holding a few pups. It made you blush even harder and you found yourself too worked up to do anything but peek at the pudge of his stomach from behind your hands. The urge to bite at the tantalizing treasure trail that led towards his waistband was strong but you ignored it, not wanting to force him into another round of love making while he was trying to make you a decent meal. 

“Does the thought of me being a good dad turn you on?,” he questioned, pulling your hands from your face as he knelt in between your legs. 

You nodded solemnly, unsure of how he was about to react at the admission. Was it weird that you felt that way? You couldn't tell, but it was impossible to hide it from him when everything he did for you or the unborn child riled you up so much. If you had it your way, he’d stay buried inside of your cunt for the next month, keeping himself there for easy access when you inevitably wanted him to fuck you again. 

“Aw honey, s’alright. No need to get embarrassed,” Joel cooed, rubbing your tummy as he did, “Know what? I think the same thing about you. You’re so loving, so strong, gonna take such good care of our pup. Makes me want to show you how much I love you, every day.”

Joel’s words were sweet, but you couldn’t help but squirm at the double entendre.  

“Then show me,” you whispered. 

His eyes turned black at that, his pupils growing with lust until only a thin line of brown remained. A heady scent of desire cloaked every other smell in the room, making your cunt throb between your legs. Joel’s nose twitched as he caught the scent and he licked his lips as though he was readying himself to take a bite of you. As he stared at your lips, you spotted the neglected food on the stove, suddenly feeling ashamed at how needy you were for always begging him to fuck you into oblivion at the drop of a hat. 

“I’m sorry, you don’t have t - ah!,” you squeaked, cut off by his hands pulling your legs towards the end of the booth so that they hung off the edge. 

Joel threw your legs over his shoulders, groaning as he buried his face into the drenched gusset of your panties. He huffed at the fabric and you whimpered as his nose bumped against your sensitive clit. Panting and whining, you reached down to bury your fingers into his hair to ground yourself amidst the intense need rushing through you. 

“Never fucking apologize for this, taking care of this pretty pussy is my job, nobody else’s,” he drawled, yanking your panties up so that they dug into your slit. 

“Y-Your job,” you mimicked, too desperate to do much else. 

He chuckled darkly and leaned forward, mouthing at your soaked cunt through the fabric he held tight in his grasp. It was somehow too much and not enough, with his strong tongue easily working you up despite the barrier, but you craved more. What you needed was his face suctioned to your core, sucking at your clit as his fingers slammed into that one spot over and over again. 

“Joel, Joel, Joel, please,” you begged, thighs twitching around his head as he teased. 

“No, take what I give ya and then maybe I’ll be nice,” Joel replied, his voice muffled by your panty covered seam. 

You groaned and kicked your legs out in protest, earning a nip to the calf from him. The sting shot up your spine, adding to the growing pressure between your thighs. With your heart slamming inside of your chest and your hands yanking on his curls, you shook and keened. Joel growled and pulled you even closer, rubbing his face against your core as you barreled towards the edge. The scruff on his cheeks burned at the inside of your thighs and you knew that the skin there would be flushed from the friction, but you didn’t care. In fact, you hoped that he would leave a mark, something to remind you of how good he made you feel on a daily basis. 

“C’mon baby, cum for me. Know you want to my filthy fucking girl. Pussy full of my cum and she still needs me, doesn’t she? We taste so fucking good, can’t wait to bury my tongue in that sweet cunt, gonna clean my cum out and make you taste it when we kiss,” Joel groaned. 

His words sent a shockwave through your body, making all of the muscles in your body tense up before you exploded into all out euphoria. The sound of liquid hitting the floor below barely registered, you were too busy gushing slick as your walls clenched around nothing. Joel let out a pained whine when you tugged on his hair, too blissed out to care about suffocating him as you rode out your high. After one last brutal wave of pleasure, you sighed and let go of him, trying desperately to catch your breath. 

“That’s it honey, such a good girl for me,” Joel panted, leaning back to press wet kisses against your thighs. 

“J-J-J,” you gasped, trying desperately to answer him. 

Any attempt to catch your breath failed and you slapped his shoulder, signaling to him that you needed something. With the weight of the baby strapped to your midsection, it had become nearly impossible to lie on your back at times. As much as you would love for him to continue to devour you in the booth of the breakfast nook, there was no way you were going to be able to keep going without changing positions. Joel took the hint, immediately halting the kisses to your shaking thighs so that he could help. 

“What’s the matter sweetheart? Is she kicking you again? Do ya need to pee?,” he questioned, rubbing your sides as he asked. 

You shook your head, “C-Can’t breathe, g-get up, need t-to get up.” 

Joel cussed and slipped your legs off of his shoulders, quickly holding out a hand for you. When you took hold of his hand, he pulled you up, slipping the other one around your back for extra support. It was only when you were right side up again that the pressure against your lungs melted away, allowing you to take a few steadying breaths that calmed your racing heart. As you gulped down the much needed oxygen, Joel’s hands brushed over your skin, desperately trying to soothe you in any way he could. 

“I’m okay Joel, it’s just hard to lay like that when I’ve got a fucking watermelon pressing into me,” you chuckled once you had finally caught up on breaths. 

He hummed, “You gotta tell me if you’re hurtin’ baby, we could’ve moved.” 

You shook your head, grabbing the back of his neck so that you could pull him close and kiss the damp skin around his face. The taste of you lingered around his mouth, along with the delicious saltiness of his own cum that had sprayed out of your cunt with the force of your orgasm. Joel hesitantly kissed you back, still too spooked to get into it again, and you sighed. 

“I really am fine. Nothing hurt and I could breathe just fine until you made me cum. I promise I would have told you if it did,” you said, your thumb rubbing soothing circles into his tensed jaw. 

Joel nodded, “Okay honey, that’s fine. D’ya wanna stop for right now? We could get something eat and then come b-”

“No!,” you cried out, grappling at his shoulders as he tried to pull away, “You made dirty promises mister and I’m holding you to them! We just need to move first and then I’m all yours.” 

He chuckled and shook his head, mumbling something about you being insatiable as he scooped you up from the booth. The screech that you let out was cut off by his mouth sealing over yours and you sighed into it, allowing his tongue to sweep into your mouth. Joel tasted like a delicious mix of the both of you, something that forced another rush of desire to pulse through you. It was only when he was suddenly placing you down onto your feet that the spell was broken and you found yourself whining as he pulled back. 

“Nuh uh honey, none of that,” Joel tsked, “M’gonna take care of ya, just need to do it right this time. If ya can’t lay down, we’ll have to do it like this.” 

He pulled away and plopped down on the couch, grabbing your thighs as he laid across it. The smile he wore was almost boyish, as if your pussy was the last slice of cake and he had just been given permission to dig in. You wanted nothing more than to take a seat on his ruggedly handsome face, riding it until you could no longer speak, but you hesitated. If you were scared about crushing Joel before, now it seemed inevitable. How the hell was he going to breathe with you on top of him? It wasn’t like you would notice if he was suffocating, you couldn’t even see your own toes anymore, much less a face buried in between your thighs. 

“Don’t even want to hear it sweetheart, hop on or I’ll drag you up here myself. I just carried your ass all the way from the kitchen, you ain’t gonna crush me,” Joel demanded, already tugging on the leg closest to him in excitement. 

There was no arguing with Joel when he got like this, you knew that, so you sighed and shimmied out of your panties. It was a bit awkward when you first climbed over him, throwing your wobbly leg over his chest so that you hovered over the scarred skin there. He smiled from ear to ear, grabbing your ass to yank you towards his mouth. 

“Joel!,” you yelped, catching yourself on the armrest above his head to keep from falling forward. 

“Hush,” he growled. 

Joel’s hands squeezed your cheeks, pulling them apart so your holes were exposed to his greedy eyes. All you could see was the swell of your own stomach, leaving you guessing as to when he was going to finally dive in and it was maddening. Slick dripped from your core, likely covering your thighs and his face at the point, and you whined a desperate plea to him. With that, his patience shattered and you couldn’t help the shocked screech you let out when he slammed you down on his face. 

The feeling of Joel’s mouth was exquisite and you struggled to keep from clenching your thighs around his head, not wanting to suffocate him even more than you already were. He started by running his thick tongue from your asshole, all the way to your clit where he ended with a sharp flick. Every inch of you came alive, with his mouth sending you into an all out frenzy as it expertly swept over every pleasure spot in your core. Sweat dripped down your face, making your hair stick to the sides of his as you held onto the couch for dear life. 

“J-o-oel fuuuuck, s’good. Oh my god, don’t stop,” you whimpered. 

A hand reared back and slapped your ass, using less strength than usual but just enough to force out a choked sob. Joel groaned when one of your hands left the armrest to grip his hair, using the curls to squish his face even further into your drenched folds. He let you do it, happily working his way up to your clit so that he could pop the swollen bud into his mouth to suck. 

You convulsed, babbling as your hips tried to pull away from the intense stimulation, “P-Please, please, please, fuck! Feels so good daddy, you’re gonna make me cum.” 

Joel held strong, easily keeping you pinned against his mouth so that he could pull you into another round of overwhelming pleasure. Every time you managed to pull away even an inch, he yanked you back down, until a threatening grumbling noise came from his chest that stilled your movements. It was as if your instincts had overwhelmed your ability to think with just one simple growl from him. The omega in you heeded to the noise, rendering you unable to do anything but sit there as your alpha took what he wanted. 

And it seemed like what he wanted to do was kill you. From the second your pussy had touched down against his face, you were already so close. The power Joel had over you was unimaginable, with just the first few strokes of his tongue rendering you a hopeless mess. However, as you felt him suck your poor clit into his mouth even harder, batting the nub with his tongue as he did, you were gone. 

A high pitched noise echoed in your ears, your vision whiting out for a second as the growing pressure was released. As you panted and scraped his scalp with your fingernails, walls contracting around nothing, you realized that the high pitched noise was your own screams. The sound of Joel's palm slapping your ass made you choke on a shriek, the sting heightening the pleasure that surged through you. He worked you through it, moaning wantonly as he welded himself to your folds. It was only when you slumped over him, twitching and shivering in overstimulation, that he finally let you go. 

Carefully, ever so carefully, Joel scooched you back so that you straddled his chest again. He hissed when your arms faltered, catching you just in time to save you from squishing the bump against him. A slurred apology came from you, with your mind too discombobulated to truly react to the fall. He shushed you, lifting you again so that he could pull himself into a seated position. With the armrest against his back, he cradled you in his arms, cooing at the tears that ran down your cheeks. 

“Aw, my sweet girl, did so good for me baby,” Joel praised, wiping the sweat soaked hair from your eyes as he did. 

Another cry came from you, this one louder than the last, the pleasure having wiped away all lines of defense against the overwhelming emotions you were prone to. Joel’s face, with its fine lines, scars, and the facial hair you refused to let him shave off, was absolutely drenched. Slick covered it, making everywhere from his cheeks to his forehead shine in the dying light of the day. It was like you had claimed all over again, the remnants of your pleasure being yet another sign of his devotion. All you wanted was for him to hold you for tonight, and every night for the rest of your life, but you were terrified that a life like that would be taken from you. His brow furrowed in worry, looking almost heartbroken by your outburst. 

“What’s the matter honey? Aw, c’mon now darling, don’t cry. Talk to me,” he cooed, bringing your face closer to his so that he could place kisses all over it. 

Too ashamed to say anything, you shook your head, trying and failing to control the awful cries you let out. Joel held your body closer to his, doting upon every inch of it as you sobbed. Every time you thought it was done, it kept going, until nothing remained but wet sniffles and embarrassing hiccups. He ran his thumb over your cheeks, collecting the moisture there in silence. It made you want to break, to tell him how your more deranged side wanted nothing more than to chain him up in the basement so that he would be forced to stay home, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t fair. 

“M’gonna be alright pretty girl, s’not like it was before,” he said softly after some time. 

Looking away from him, you nodded and tried to control the tears. Of course, Joel couldn’t know that, but there was no reason for you to make him worry any more that he already was by freaking out. You needed to be strong, you knew that, but the hormones running rampant throughout your body never seemed to get the memo. 

“How?,” you broke, too terrified to let it go for his sake, “How is it not like before? There’s p-people out there k-killing our patrols and you have to be the one to go out there. Y-You Joel! And I c-can’t do anything about it. If you go missing I-I can’t, I won’t be able to…”

You trailed off, too overcome with emotion to continue down that dark path, but it was hard not to, especially when there was some truth to the statement. In the state you were in there was no way you would be able to pull off the miraculous rescue mission you had once before, there would be no going after him if something went wrong. Each time Joel and you were apart, bad things would happen, and you couldn’t help but feel like this was going to end the same. Except this time, he would be doomed. 

“S’not like before because I’m not going alone, I have Tommy and as dumb as he can be, he knows what he’s doing,” Joel paused, placing a broad hand against your swollen belly, “S’not like before because of you and her, I’m not taking any chances. No way m’gonna miss this.” 

“But what if -”

His index finger pressed against your lips, effectively silencing your doubts before they could take life. The seriousness of his gaze halted your defiance, with his big brown eyes drilling into the deepest corners of your heart with a single look. 

“I’ve had two pups in my life and I’ve had to watch them both die. I didn’t even get to bury them. If you think for one second that I’m gonna let anything happen to me out there, that I’m not gonna be there for this baby, for you, then you’re crazy. There’s no buts baby, I’m gonna come home to ya,” he promised. 

The way Joel said it was so definitive that it soothed your cries, sobering you to the reality of the man that held you so tightly to his chest. He was confident in his abilities because he had to be, he had to make it back because the other option was too unbearable for him. It would be as if he was failing his other children all over again, only this time in a different, more painful way. If he died, Joel would not only be leaving his unborn child without his care, but his pregnant mate as well, his pregnant mate that would then have to birth and raise said child alone. As much as you wanted to bemoan his involvement in patrols, there was no denying the determination of a man that had previously faced hell and survived. 

“Okay,” you sniffed, his promise making the worries that were lurking around in your mind drift away. 

Joel gave you a small smile, “Okay.” 

He kissed you then, so softly that it almost made you cry again, and it was then that you felt the hardened length against your leg. Pulling away, you wiped your face and tried to ready yourself for another round. After pulling you into two consecutive releases, Joel had been left wanting, and you suddenly felt even more terrible than before. However, he batted you away when you reached for it. 

“You didn’t get to cum,” you whined. 

“Relax darling. Wasn’t about me, this was about you,” he said, batting away your wayward hands. 

Joel kissed you softly, making a flurry of butterflies erupt from your chest. This man loved you, so much so that he would deny his own pleasure just to see make you happy, so much so that he would walk through fire just to get back to you, and it made you want to scream. As his lips parted from yours, you already missed them, but found yourself yawning instead of leaning back in. All of the pent up emotions and mind breaking orgasms had caught up, pulling at your heavy eyelids as you struggled to hold onto consciousness. Although you wanted to end the night fucking and cuddling with the man you loved, the lethargy that plagued your life as of late reared its head. 

“C’mon, let’s get you fed and then we can go back to bed. Can’t have my girls starvin’ when there’s perfectly good food waiting for them,” he said, groaning as he lifted you from the couch. 

At this rate, you had a feeling that Joel was going to be waddling almost as bad as you were by tomorrow. The muscles in his back were already strained by the hard labor he had been assigned to and he was only making it worse each time he lifted your swollen body, carrying you throughout the house as if he were a young man and you were not at least twenty pounds heavier than usual. Still, you didn’t say anything, having already been shot down the multiple times you had tried to remind the alpha throughout the pregnancy that you were perfectly capable of walking. 

Joel kept you in his arms as the two of you ate and you had a feeling that it wasn’t just you that was nervous about tomorrow. Which was why you snuggled further into him, uncaring of the way his arms bumped into yours with every bite. When the bowls were empty, they were left on the table, a job that would be done tomorrow when the two of you weren’t exhausted. He carried you all the way to the bedroom, only releasing you so that you could go through your nighttime regiment alongside him. It was all so domestic, the way he gave you a goofy grin around a mouthful of foamy toothpaste as you prodded at a pimple on your chin, and it was perfect. 

When you slid into bed alongside Joel, you were calmed, with his words and affection lulling you into a sense of security. He pulled you close to him, holding the bump between you like he was trying to make himself into a human shield. I love yous were exchanged, along with a flurry of kisses, until you were both too tired to do anything but look at each other with tired eyes. You slipped off first, but not before you heard him quietly repeat his promise into the stillness of the night. 

“I’ll come home to ya honey, I promise.” 

- Joel -

The blood stuck to the bottoms of his boots made him grimace and Joel made a mental note to scrub the infected gunk off of them before he went home. If you saw it, he knew that your hormone addled brain would lead you to immediately clean it, and he couldn’t have that. Although the first few months of your pregnancy were rocky, having fought through hell and back the entire time without knowing about the life inside, that didn’t mean he was willing to let the rest of it be the same. From the moment he knew about the budding life inside of you, he was adamant that his mate would be safe from being stained with the filth that came with the outside world. 

“Christ almighty, look at this one,” Tommy called, pulling his attention away from his feet. 

Joel walked towards his brother, careful not to trip over the plethora of bodies that were strewn about the carcass of the store. It was clear that a horde had come through, as they now laid hacked to pieces across the rotted floors, but that left a glaringly obvious question. Who had killed them? Who had left this present for a Jackson patrol to find? And, were they the same people that had been taking out their residents? 

When Joel reached his brother, he looked down, gazing upon the sole body that didn’t look like it was overcome by the mind controlling fungus. He could see two bite marks on the woman’s thick forearms, but besides that, she was clear of infection. The single bullet wound between her eyes said it all. She had been bit and someone who cared enough to not let her turn had shot her, putting her out of an eternity of misery. 

“This could be one of them,” Joel said. 

Tommy hummed, “Could be, reckon that any more of them got bit?” 

He shook his head in response. If they had shot her, they’d likely shoot anyone else that got bitten by the horde. That was the way the world worked and he hoped for his own sake that his own loved ones would be kind enough to do the same if the day ever came. His brother kneeled down to check the body for something, anything that might give them a hint as to who the woman was and he looked away. Tommy wouldn’t find anything, not if they were the group that Jackson was on the hunt for. They were too smart to leave anything on her for a patrol to find. 

“Nothing,” his brother sighed. 

Joel nodded, already heading back to the horses and leaving him behind. The group was likely long gone, held up in whatever hide out they had coveted for the last few months. A storm was coming, he could smell it in the air and feel it in the humidity that made his clothes stick to his form. The clouds above were bruised, darkening the sky and blocking out the summer sun as he strolled towards Rusty. 

He briefly worried about you getting to your short shift at the clinic, half cocked fears about you falling against the slick ground or a bolt of lightning striking you down racing through him, but he shoved them away. It wasn’t even noon yet, meaning that Joel would be there to see you off. He could carry you there if need be. In fact, given his hormone fueled brain that screamed at him at all hours of the day to care for his mate, he would prefer it. 

“Hey, wait up!,” Tommy called, jogging to keep up with his long strides, “Slow your roll big brother, we’ve still gotta check out the residential area up that way. 

“Look at them storm clouds brewin’, you really think that’s a good plan?,” Joel asked, pointing at the dark patches in the sky as he did. 

“You want to come back out here again today? Cus, that’s what’s gonna happen when we go back and try to explain to Maria that you went all squirrely over some rain,” his brother shot back, making him glare at him as he hopped onto his horse. 

Joel sighed. It had only been about three hours since he left camp and already he missed you. This morning it had been unnecessarily difficult for him to let you go, with your hands glued to his shoulders to keep him stuck in place as you slept. He had almost wept when he had to peel them away, kissing both you and the swollen bump that was nestled between the two of you before he eased himself off of the bed. 

And now, with Rusty trotting towards the dilapidated homes nearby, Joel burned with desire. A desire that was not inherently sexual, more so one that was attuned to every fiber of your being. After he had been taken by Paul’s men many months ago, you had mentioned that during that time you had felt his presence on this earth, as if your souls could track the movement of each other without even knowing it. And similarly, he had felt something of the sort when he was racing towards the church after you had sacrificed yourself for Cooper and Allie. Joel had never been one to believe in soul bonds but since meeting you, he had begun to change his mind. 

However, it was only when you had become with child that those feelings had begun to take on even deeper meaning. Perhaps it was Joel’s past losses intermingling with his already heightened nervous system, or perhaps it was simply the alpha in him that demanded he pay extra attention to the people he was designed to protect, either way, each day he was driven mad by it. He could feel every bit of your discomfort and despair, calling out to him from miles away, and he was ready to tear through an army of infected to return to quell your fears. 

“Hey, let’s pull off. We can leave ‘em here, I’ll take the right and you take the left. You get into any trouble, holler for me, alright?,” Tommy instructed, waiting for him to respond. 

Joel nodded, shaking his head to clear out all of the hormone based thoughts that were fogging up his brain. The last thing he needed was to be distracted while he was exposed like this. As he hopped off the horse, he promised himself to remain on task, knowing that it was the only way he was going to be able to get home safely. 

He tied Rusty next to his brother’s horse Boots, leaving the knot loose enough so that the stallion could run away if trouble came about but not so loose so that he would take off for no reason. Tommy followed suit, leaving Boots with a wide berth between him and the chestnut colored stallion so that he wouldn’t get kicked. Much to everyone’s disappointment, the only beings that could coral the finicky horse were you and Joel, leaving him with only two possible riders despite the growing populace of Jackson that could use him. Joel patted his nose before he left, as if to say he understood the feeling. 

Tommy parted from him, veering off towards the houses on the right so that he could poke around. Joel followed his lead, carefully examining the buildings to the left. Most of them were broken beyond repair, too run down to house anything other than rotting wood that stunk in the summer heat, but he did find a pair of scissors that could be of use. He sped through the remainder of the homes, not seeing anything other than the carcass of life before the outbreak, until he finally reached his last one. 

Stilling at the entrance, Joel felt all the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. Something or someone was in here, he could feel it in the way his gut twisted with the indescribable feeling of incoming doom. He stepped back from the doorway, giving himself some space as he went over his options. Just as he landed on the more subtle approach, a voice from behind him rang through the air. 

“Hey! All clear over this way, let’s get going before - OH SHIT!,” Tommy shouted, his voice overpowered by the screech that came from within the home, along with the sound of a feral beast sprinting towards his brother at top speed. 

Joel cussed and pulled the gun from around his back, barely managing to switch the safety off before the runner was a mere four feet away from him. He shot once, making it stumble back as the bullet slammed through its chest, then again, this time getting it right between the eyes. The runner fell back against the ground, letting out a few hard twitches before it finally stilled. 

“Holy fuck,” Tommy swore, jogging up from behind to have a look at the corpse. 

Joel hummed, too distracted to respond to his brother’s surprise. The runner was freshly infected. No visible bite marks could be seen across its body, meaning that whoever the man was, he had likely hidden it before going off to succumb by himself. But that was not what Joel was focused on. He couldn’t care less that these assholes were too stupid to deal with the hordes that came through Jackson from time to time. What distracted him was how familiar the guy looked, yet he couldn’t quite place him. 

“What? You know this guy or something?,” the younger man asked, noticing how intensely Joel was studying his face. 

Did Joel know this man? He didn’t think so, although the way alarm bells were going off in his brain told him otherwise. Racking through his many years of disastrous decisions, he tried to place him amongst the numerous moments where he had fucked up, but he couldn’t. The man was slight, with olive skin and dark hair that was slightly matted, likely from time spent away from the luxuries of grooming. He reeked of a stifling mix of body odor and incense, another clue that had Joel scratching the back of his head. He had seen the man somewhere, somewhere where the air had been thick with the same stench of burning herbs, but he couldn’t remember where. 

“I don’t know, I think I do, but for the life of me I can't figure out where from,” Joel admitted, cursing his aging brain for being unable to recall as it once had. 

Tommy cussed, “Shiiit, alright. Well, let’s get going then, I don’t wanna stick around if there’s more of your old buddies hanging around here waiting for ya.” 

“Buddies,”Joel mumbled, rolling his eyes as he turned back towards the horses. 

Whoever the man was, he had never been a friend. Joel could tell by the way a cold sweat had already broken out on his back, making him shudder as he hastened his pace. By the time he got back to Rusty, he was ready to kick the stallion into high gear, galloping the rest of the way home to escape the pit that was forming in his stomach, but mother nature had other ideas. 

The first drop hit Joel’s nose as he seated himself atop of his horse, making him scrunch up his face as he wiped it off. However, it was followed by a second and third that darkened his shirt, leading to an all out downpour by the time they had trotted back from whence they came. The skies had opened up in seconds, the rain pounding against his back as he squinted to see three feet in front of him. Even Rusty, with his superior vision and tact for withstanding harsh weather, was getting nervous from the winds that whipped through the trees. 

“- and we’re gonna have to pull off! I can’t see jackshit!,” Tommy shouted over a crack of thunder, the start of his sentence completely cut off by the boom. 

Joel nodded and followed his brother closely, squinting to keep his figure in sight amidst the storm that had begun out of nowhere. Tommy pulled off at a small tavern at the other side of town, one that had a hole already blown into the side of it that allowed them to ride their horses straight in without having to leave them out in the howling wind. With his head finally saved from the severe beating the weather was giving it outside, Joel sighed, reaching forward to pat Rusty in thanks before he slid off of his back. 

“God damn, I ain’t never seen it come on like that before,” his brother laughed, wringing the water from his drenched shirt. 

He didn’t answer, too busy peeking around to make sure they were completely alone inside of the rundown bar. Aside from the moss that crawled up the walls and the half used bottles still lined up on the shelves, the place was safe. Dusting the seat of one of the few salvageable booths left behind, Joel plopped himself down to wait out the storm. From where he sat, all he could see was sheets of rain sliding off of the roof, hitting the cracked pavement so hard that he could hear the heavy slap of its weight. 

A flash of lightning struck one of the trees across the road, followed by a loud bang that made him jump in his seat. Sighing, Joel looked back down at the table, annoyed that he was stuck in this place while you were up to God knows what at home. It was probably a little after ten in the morning, which meant that you would be awake and likely doing some sort of task that would make him sick with worry. He was so riled up at the thought of it that he nearly launched himself out of the booth, the only thing keeping him back was the knowledge that going out in the storm and getting hurt would not do anyone any good. Still, with his scent soured with worry, his brother immediately picked up on his uneasiness and slid into the other side of the booth. 

“Penny for your thoughts?,” Tommy tried, keeping his tone light despite the pungent scent that was likely burning his nostrils. 

Joel shook his head, unsure of what to say. What could he tell him? That he was glued to you not so much out of fear anymore, but out of some primal need to protect what was his. He no longer feared being a father again, as weird as that sounded coming from him. Instead, he now feared the possibility of that bright future that seemed within his reach being cruelly taken away. 

“Ya know, if you’re having doubts about being a dad again, I can tell ya that I -”

Joel cut in, “I ain’t got no doubts.” 

Tommy widened his eyes, looking surprised before his face relaxed into a small smile. His brother nodded, beaming at him as he sat back in his seat. 

“So? Why are you acting like someone pissed in your cornflakes?,” Tommy asked. 

Joel sighed and leaned back, unsure of whether he wanted to get into it with his brother at that moment. However, as the storm only worsened outside, it seemed like he was out of any other option, so he began. 

“She is… the love of my life and now she’s having my kid. That used to scare me but not anymore, now I’m scared of something else, something even worse” Joel stammered. 

Tommy nodded, silently urging him to continue. 

“Now, I’m scared of…,” he paused, gathering himself before he continued, “What if it happens again? What if, I get the life I wanted, I get to be a parent again with someone who is my best fucking friend, and it all just goes away. What then? I can’t - There’s nothing - What do I do?!” 

Joel watched as his brother’s face fell, the corner of his mouth losing that signature smirk that both pissed him off and comforted him at the same time. All at once, he felt ashamed, like he should’ve kept his big mouth shut rather than blather on about his incessant fears. Of course, he knew that Tommy was familiar with loss. Afterall, it wasn’t just him that had lost Sarah. Nonetheless, losing a child was a different sort of pain, one that Jackson had protected him from ever having to become acquainted with. 

“Listen, I can’t tell the future, so I ain’t gonna make any grand promises about knowing what’ll happen,” his brother started, “But I do know this. There’s no way that your kid is going anywhere anytime soon. Not this time.” 

He reared his head back like he had been slapped, suddenly angered by his brother’s nonchalance. How could Tommy possibly think that? Especially when he knew better than anyone how cruel the world could be. Hell, having been a marine before the outbreak ever started, he probably knew of the world’s cruelty longer than Joel. Still, when the younger man raised his hand he halted the insults that were on the tip of his tongue, begrudgingly giving him the benefit of the doubt. Tommy leaned forward, almost like he was about to tell him a secret and Joel couldn’t help but lean in as well. 

“That lady of yours scares the fuck out of me,” he started, making Joel guffaw, “You say Maria is terrifying? Try talking to that feral little thing when it has anything to do with you. She practically ripped me a new one when I tried to put you with Stan for patrols. Said it was either me or she’d be going herself.” 

Not once had you ever mentioned doing that for him. Joel had never even heard that a switch had ever been possible, he had just assumed Tommy’s schedule happened to line up with his. Looking back, he realized how stupid that was, especially when his brother seemed to always be rushing from one place to the next, as if his shifts conflicted with one another every week. 

“Not to mention when I asked her about moving closer into town. She told me that if I took you guys away from your home, she would burn mine to the ground, said it right to my face like it was nothing. It wasn’t even my idea! Maria had asked because of how far of a walk it is to the clinic,” Tommy exclaimed. 

A true belly laugh came from Joel, making his brother’s mouth fall open at the sound of it. He couldn’t help it, not when he was imagining the younger man’s terror at his spitfire of a mate threatening him within an inch of his life. The thing was, he also knew that you were probably being serious. As unhinged as Joel could be, the two of you went tit for tat, meaning that he could perfectly envision you standing in front of the burning house with your hands around your swollen belly, a smile on your face as you turned to waddle back home. 

“Joel,” his brother sighed, the exasperation in his voice breaking him from his fit of giggles. 

He wiped his eyes, focusing back on the beta as tried to calm himself down. 

“That pup is going to have two parents who would do anything for them, anything. The two of you are… Well, what else is there to say? You’ve met your match Joel, which is why I know that the kid is gonna be fine. Christ, whatever’s out there should probably be terrified of the little hellspawn y’all are about to let loose on the world,” his brother joked. 

Joel rolled his eyes, ignoring the last part to appreciate the sentiment. Currently, you were out of commission, as the pregnancy had left you unable to move around to any great degree. Nevertheless, the second that the baby was born, he knew that you would do anything for her, just as you once had for him. It was part of the reason he loved you so much. Maybe his brother was right, maybe his family would be safe this time, as this time he was not the only one that was willing to do anything to protect it. 

“Did she really say she was gonna burn your house down?,” Joel piped up after a while.  

Tommy solemnly nodded, “When I tried to explain that we were just worried about her giving birth and y’all having a newborn so far away from the clinic, she told me that she was gonna send ME to the clinic if I didn’t leave her the fuck alone.” 

Joel chuckled, shaking his head as he dreamily sighed, “Fuck, I love her so much.” 

And he did, so much so that he wasn’t even bothered by you threatening his brother. Tommy was a big boy and plus, you knew how much Joel hated being around the busier parts of Jackson. He preferred a quiet life with you, in the oasis that the two of you shared away from the rest of the residents. Plus, he also knew how much blood, sweat, and tears you had poured into turning the place into something special. 

Tommy smiled, shaking his head at the hearts in Joel’s eyes, “Well, as scary as that woman is, I can tell you one thing, I am grateful for her. She did something I never thought possible.”

“What’s that?,” he asked, curiosity pulling him from his obsessive thoughts about the woman he loved. 

“When you left here, I was sure that you were going to go kill yourself in them woods. That’s why I made you meet with me twice a year, to make sure my brother wasn’t going to die on me,” Tommy admitted. 

Joel winced at the pain in his baby brother’s voice. 

“I didn’t -”

Tommy waved him off, taking a steadying breath before he continued. 

“The Joel that left Jackson last time was no better than the infected, just walking through life on complete autopilot. Last time I saw you before winter, you were a ghost, but now I’ve got my brother back. She brought you back to us, to yourself! I can’t thank her enough,” he finished.

Joel swallowed hard, clearing his throat to try to dislodge the lump he found there. Everything Tommy had said was true, you were the only person that was able to pull him out of the deepest pit he had ever been in. And you had done so without even having to try. The love you showed him came naturally, just as it had for him when he finally stopped fighting it. 

“Tommy look, I know that we haven’t talked much about it but I need to say this to ya once, before I lose my nerve,” Joel rambled, throat thick with emotion, “I’m sorry for what I did before I left, what I said about your family, all of it. None of it was true, I was just looking for a fight.” 

His brother nodded knowingly, giving him a sad yet understanding look as he tried to keep his own emotions in check. Joel couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain he had caused his brother, especially now that he had a baby on the way himself. If Tommy had said those types of things about you, about his unborn child, Joel wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive him, which was why he didn’t expect him to respond. 

“I know. And I ain’t mad at ya for it no more so stop beating yourself up about it. Me and you? We’re square. Just promise me you’ll keep that mate of yours from committing any acts of arson or battery in town, Jackson don’t take too kindly to that sort of thing,” the younger man joked. 

They both laughed and the tension washed away with the rain, allowing them both to take a calming breath. 

Joel held up three fingers, “Scout’s honor.” 

“You were never in the scouts,” Tommy pointed out. 

“Fuck, guess you’re out of luck then,” he shot back. 

The two of them broke out into another round of raucous laughter, almost forgetting that they were stuck in some god forsaken dilapidated bar as they waited out the storm. They fell into a comfortable silence afterwards, one that was mixed with bouts of small talk about kids or home renovations. Never in Joel’s life did he think that he’d be able to do this, to be a brother again, but he supposed that it was like Tommy pointed out, he had you to thank for that. When it was finally time to go, he practically glided back to his horse, too excited to see you to hide the smile on his face as he saddled up. 

By the time the storm had passed, it was well past noon, meaning that you would be at the clinic stitching up cuts and learning how to catch certain symptoms from the patients that arrived. Part of the reason Joel was so okay with you still working was the fact that you were literally under the watchful eye of the town doctor, while the other part remembered how you had said that you once wished you could be a doctor. There was no way he was going to stand in the way of that, not when he knew how much it had hurt the teenage version of you to have that dream ripped away, doomed to a life as a housewife. Still, that didn’t mean Joel couldn’t swing by to bug you as you worked. In fact, now that he thought of it, he did have an awfully bad headache that only one person could fix. 

Seeing the walls of Jackson was like seeing the gates of heaven, or at least he thought so as he raced towards home, towards you. He ignored the few groups that were leaving as they came in, too focused on veering the horse towards the stables to ask why they were leaving in such a rush. Even when he reached the stable and noticed that all of the other horses were uncharacteristically in use, the air smelling distinctly of cleaning supplies as he led Rusty into his stall, he still didn’t think anything of it. 

It was only when Joel left the stalls, coming face to face with the hardened expression of his sister in law as she spoke to Tommy in a low voice that he knew something was wrong. The anxiousness he had been feeling back in town reared its ugly head, making him swallow back bile as he stumbled towards the pair. Tommy whipped around to face him, the fear and pity on his face evident as he did, and Joel felt like the sky was falling for what must’ve been the millionth time in his life. There was only one reason they would be looking at him like that. 

“Please, please just tell me,” Joel begged, uncaring of how desperate he sounded. 

Tommy looked at Maria, getting a subtle nod from her that made his stomach twist. 

“She’s gone Joel, someone’s taken her.” 

[majorhortonisonleaveinlondon]

An updated (November 11, 2024 3:40pm pst) list of WW2 movies and TV shows in chronological order

thought out WW2 -(Imitation Game 2014) -(The Book Thief 2013) -(The Zookeeper’s Wife 2017) -(The Pianist 2002)

1937

October 26, 1937 Defence of Sihang Warehouse (The Eight Hundred 2020)

December 13, 1937 Nanjing Massacre - (John Rabe 2009) - (The Flowers of War 2011)

1938

Fall of 1938 (Munich – The Edge of War 2022)

1939

Summer 1939 (Six Minutes to Midnight 2020)

September 3, 1939 King George VI first wartime speech (King’s Speech 2010)

September 17, 1939, Soviet Union Invitation of Poland (The Way Back 2010)

November 30, 1939 Soviet Union invades Finland (The Winter War 1989)

1940

April 9, 1940 Operation Weserübung -(April 9th [movie] 2015) -(King’s Choice 2016) -(Narvik 2022) -(War Sailors 2023)

April 27, 1940 (Into the White 2011)

June 4, 1940 -Churchill gives “We Shall Fight on the Beaches” speech (Darkest Hour 2017) -Dunkirk Evaluation (Dunkirk 2017)

July 10-October 31, 1940 Battle of Britain (Battle of Britain 1969)

1941

May 1941 (Call to Spy 2019)

June 22, 1941 Operation Barbarossa -(Fortress of War [The Brest Fortres 2010) -(Defiance 2008)

September 8, 1941, Siege of Leningrad begins. -(Battle of Leningrad [Saving Leningrad] 2019) -(Leningrad 2009)

October 1941 Battle of Moscow (The Last Frontier [The Final Stand] 2020)

October 1941 Battle of Sevastopol (Battle for Sevastopol 2015)

December 7, 1941, the Empire of Japan attacks Pearl Harbor (Tora! Tora! Tora! 1970)

December 8, 1941 Japan invades Shanghai International Settlement (Empire of the Sun 1987)

1942

January 20, 1942, Wannsee Conference (Conspiracy 2001)

February 1942 Battle of the Atlantic (Greyhound 2020)

February 1942 (The Railway Man 2013)

February 19, 1942, Bombing of Darwin (Australia 2008)

Spring 1942 (U-571 2000)

April 18, 1942 The Doolittle Raid (In Harm’s Way 2018)

June 4, 1942 Battle of Midway (Midway 2019)

1942 Summer Occupation of Jersey Island (Another Mother’s Son 2017 Prime)

July, 10 1942 Easy Company Trains in Camp Tocca (Band of Brothers 01x10 Currahee 2001)

July 21, 1942, Kokoda Track Campaign (Kokoda: 39th Battalion 2006)

August 7, 1942, 1st Marine Division land on Guadalcanal (The Pacific Ep. 1 Guadalcanal/Leckie 2010)

August 19, 1942, Dieppe Raid (Dieppe 1993)

August 23, 1942 Battle of Stalingrad begins (Stalingrad 1993)

September 1942 Formation of Troop 30 (Age of Heroes 2011)

September 18, 1942, 7th Marines Land on Guadalcanal (The Pacific Ep. 2 Basilone 2010)

Autumn of 1942 Battle of the Atlantic (Das Boot 1981)

October 18, 1942, Operation Grouse (Heavy Water War Ep. 2 2015)

November 8, 1942, Operation Torch (The Big Red One 1980)

November 10-17 1942 Vasily Zaytsev kills 225 German Soldiers during the Battle of Stalingrad (Enemy at the Gates 2001)

December 1942 The 1st Marine Division on Guadalcanal is relieved (The Pacific Ep. 3 Melbourne 2010)

December 15, 1942, Battle of Mount Austen (Thin Red Line 1998)

1943

March 13-14 1943, liquidation of the Kraków Ghetto -(Schindler’s List 1993)

April 17, 1943 Operation Mincemeat (Operation Mincemeat 2021)

April 19, 1943, beginning of the Warsaw Uprising (Uprising 2001)

May 4, 1943, Final Mission of The Memphis Bell (Memphis Bell 1990)

May 15, 1943, Salamo Arouch and his family arrive in Auschwitz Concentration Camp (Triumph of the Spirit 1989)

May 27, 1943 Louis Zamperini plane crashes on a search and rescue mission (Unbroken 2014)

May 30, 1943 first All-American Girls Professional Baseball League game played (A League of Their Own 1992)

June 25, 1943, 100th Bomb Group flew its first 8th Air Force combat mission (Master of the Air: Part One 2024)

July 1943 -(The Tuskegee Airmen 1995) -(The Liberator Ep. 1 2020) -(Heavy Water War Ep. 5 2015)

July 16, 1943, The 100th Bomb Group bombed U-Boats in Tronbhdim (Masters of the Air: Part Two 2024)

August 17, 1943 the 4th Bomb Wing of the 100th Bomb Group bombed Regenberg (Masters of the Air: Part Three 2024)

September 16, 1943, William Quinn and Charles Bailey leave Belgium (Masters of the Air: Part Four 2024)

September 18, 1943 John ‘Bucky’ Egan returns from leave to join the mission to bomb Munster (Master of the Air: Part Five 2024

October 14, 1943, John ‘Bucky’ Egan interrogated at Dulag Lut, Frankfurt Germany (Masters of the Air: Part Six 2024)

December 26, 1943, 1st Marine Division lands on Cape Gloucester (The Pacific Ep. 4 Gloucester/Pavuvu/Banika 2010)

1944

January 22, 1944, Battle of Anzio -(The Liberator Ep. 2 2020) -(Red Tails 2012) -(Anzio 1968)

February 20, 1944, Hydro Ferry bombing (Heavy Water War Ep. 6 2015)

March 7, 1944, Stalag Luft III Sagan, Germany, Germans find the concealed radio Bucky was using to learn news of the War (Master of the Air: Part Seven 2024)

March 24/25, 1944 Allied Mass Escape of Stalag Luft III (The Great Escape 1963)

June 1944 (Cross of Iron 1977)

June 6, 1944, 00:48 & 01:40 First airborne troops begin to land on Normandy (Band of Brothers 02x10 Day of Days 2001)

June 6, 1944, 06:30 D-Day landings -(Storming Juno 2010)

-(Saving Private Ryan 1998)

June 10, 1944, Easy Company Takes Carentan (Band of Brothers 03x10 Carentan 2001)

June 15-July 9, 1944 Battle of Saipan

-(Windtalkers 2002)

-(Oba: The Last Samurai 2011)

July, 1944 The Monuments Men land in Normandy (The Monuments Men 2014)

July 20, 1944 Operation Valkyrie (Valkyrie 2008)

August 12, 1944, The 332nd Fighter Group attack Radar stations in Southern France (Masters of the Air: Part Eight 2024)

September 15, 1944, U.S. Marines landed on Peleliu at 08:32 (the Pacific Ep. 5 2010)

September 16, 1944, U.S Marines take Peleliu Airfield (the Pacific Ep. 5 2010)

September 17, 1944, Operation Market Garden

-(Band of Brothers 04x10 Replacements 2001)

-(A Bridge Too Far 1977)

October 2, 1944 Battle of Scheldt (Forgotten Battle 2021)

October 12, 1944, Battle of Peleliu, Assault on Bloody Nose Ridge (the Pacific Ep. 7 Peleliu Hills 2010)

October 13, 1944, Rovaniemi public buildings were destroyed (Sisu 2022)

October 14, 1944, Erwin Rommel is arrested (Rommel 2012 Prime)

October 22/23, 1944, 2100 – 0200 Operation Pegasus (Band of Brothers 05x10 Crossroads 2001)

November 1944 middle of the Battle of Hürtgen Forest (When Trumpets Fade 1998)

December 16, 1944, Battle of the Bulge (Band of Brothers 06x10 Bastogne 2001)

December 1944 (Hart’s War 2002)

1945

January 2, 1945 (The Liberator Ep 3 2020)

January 10, 1945 (Attack Force Z)

January 13, 1945, Battle of Foy (Band of Brothers 07x10 The Breaking Point 2001)

January 30, 1945 The Raid at Cabanatuan (The Great Raid 2002)

February 14, 1945, David Webb rejoins the 506th in Haguenau (Band of Brothers 08x10 The Last Patrol 2001)

February 19, 1945, Battle of Iwo Jima starts. - (Letters from Iwo Jima 2006) - (The Pacific Ep. 8 Iwo Jima 2010) - (Flags of our Fathers 2006)

March 21, 1945, Operation Carthage (The Bombardment 2021)

April, 1945 (Fury 2014)

April 5, 1945, 506th Finds abandoned Concentration Camp (Band of Brothers 09x10 Why We Fight 2001)

April 17, 1945 Lee Miller arrives at Concentration Camp Buchenwald (Lee 2023)

April 26, 1945, near the end of the war in Europe (A Woman in Berlin 2008)

April 29, 1945, 45th Infantry Division liberated Dachau Concentration camp (The Liberator Ep. 4 2020)

May 2, 1945, Fall of Berlin -(Downfall 2004) -(Jojo Rabbit 2019)

May 1945 Battle of Okinawa -(Hacksaw Ridge 2016) -(The Pacific Ep. 9 Okinawa 2010)

May 7, 1945, Germany Surrenders V-E Day - (Master of the Air: Part Nine 2024) - (Band of Brothers 10x10 Points 2001)

July 30, 1945, USS Indianapolis sank. (USS Indianapolis 2016)

August 15, 1945, The Empire of Japan surrenders end of the War. -(Oppenheimer 2023) -(The Pacific Part Ten: Home 2010)

September 11, 1945 US Military search and Arrest Japanese Leaders for war crimes (Emperor 2012)

1946 April 29, 1946 Tokyo War Crimes Tribunal (Tokyo Trial 2016)

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Most memorable items of clothing in bl series in 2023

In order of their airing/me watching them:

I'm thankful I've gotten into the habit of noting which shows I watch and when otherwise I wouldn’t be able to remember. As it is, first on my list is Bed Friend, which kind of sets the tone for this post since it features the best and the worst outfit choices for Uea. The waffle robes and cat ears vs the fake sleeves shirt.

Next is a quick shout out to Por in My School President, since the show started in 2022 but did finish in 2023, and basically all of his outfits. The man is a style icon. But this stripy polo shirt takes the biscuit for me. I need to have it.

On to Moonlight Chicken and this one is a combined effort between Heart and Li Ming. @telomeke prompted me to write a little about it, but essentially the two shirts together are saying 'you're my other half'. Urthe / Tomato sauce.

The Gloves! Need I say more? (Alright, for those of you who don't know - how could you not?! - they're from Chains of Heart).

And now not strictly an item of clothing but an accessory, the most straight ankle bracelet you'll ever see in a thai series. Totally platonic, not gay AT ALL. In Midnight Museum.

In July the different Thai production companies took stock of three versions of the same stripy linin shirt – the cream long-sleeved, the brown short-sleeved, and the charcoal short-sleeved - and proceeded to clad every actor they could in one of them within a three and a half month period (six shows*, eight different characters). We had couple-shirts with both Kawi and Pisaeng and Mew and Top wearing them, and Namneua in Wedding Plan wore all three. (*Step by Step, Be My Favourite, Hidden Agenda, Wedding Plan, Love in Translation, and Only Friends).

Staying in July for a while, and speaking of weddings, Kawi rocked on up to Pearmai and Not's wedding in Be My Favourite in this brown houndstooth shirt and black pants outfit - an almost exact replica of Ray's outfit in the original pilot trailer for Only Friends. I waited with baited breath to see if Ray would still wear the outfit in the actual series...and he did! Not only that, I then realised Uea had already worn it in Bed Friend earlier in the year.

In a surprising turn of events, Be My Favourite – and Krist – turned out to actually be Quite Good. Perhaps distracted by Krist's puppy eyes, we weren't entirely ready for the first appearance of the Dudes shirt – itself a wonderful comment on the narrative since Kawi was figuring out his feelings for Pisaeng – but it was a delight to see it again on Nick in Only Friends, and offering a different narrative comment.

This next one may only be notable for me, but when I was doing my dedicated scan through of oh so many shows to collect items for the communal wardrobe, I noticed this sand and grey sweater amongst the many other items of shared clothing which appeared in The Warp Effect and then very briefly on Pisaeng in Be My Favourite. Not long after, the trailer for Last Twilight dropped and I spotted it again immediately. I've also since noticed it in a speed scan of The Shipper. Not only do I think it's a pretty neat sweater, but I loved the effect it gave in Last Twilight, which I wrote about at the end of this post.

This is getting long but I'm going to keep going (this might be the only 2023 wrap up I do so I'ma make it count).

If you've been following me for a while (or since the BBS days), you’ll know how rabid I go when I see a pair of the yellow-soled Mustard brand shoes in a show. The most recent being in Hidden Agenda worn by Zo…but they're not the ones on this list. Oh no, it's Joke's blue-soled shoes which made me sit up and scream this time...meaning even their shoes were colour-coded in this show. Oh how I wish I could buy a pair of each.

There were many fabulous outfits in Laws of Attraction (especially Charn's) but Tanthai's green rope shirt wins out for me. Green seemed to be used in the show to represent the lies and secrets Tanthai was forced to keep because of his father, and he was metaphorically bound and trapped in these lies and his life. Ah perfection!

I've mentioned a lot of brilliant items but there have also been many awful ones, and the one I can't seem to stop thinking about (or horrifying over) is the Droopy Tits shirt (or Nipple Protector, whichever way you want to call it) which first appeared in Dangerous Romance and then The Jungle just three days later. I'm surprised we haven't seen it again to be honest, but I imagine if we get more spoiled rich kids we probably will.

These next two aren't specific items but more of a shout out to the whole wardrobe design of the shows.

First, Only Friends, with Mew and Ray's transformation to Ray and Sand's (respective) wardrobe choices, as well as the inversion of colours to highlight differences in relationships, and the use of colour-groupings to separate characters (<- a post i have yet to write). I wish I could write more about it…but life is just too busy to give it the time it needs.

The second is, of course, Ai Di and Chen Yi in Kiseki: Dear to Me with how they always share a colour in their different outfits. @respectthepetty details this perfectly here, so I don't need to. I am however still feral about these two and can't wait to do a full re-watch of the show.

And lastly, much like Baseball Mom in Bad Buddy two years ago (and to be honest many of Pat's other shirts), Aof recently gifted us another absolutely ridiculous but brilliantly poignant t-shirt slogan in Mhok's Fart Proudly shirt in Last Twilight, which I went into detail about here. Just A+

Thanks for sticking with me through all that! Any others that stood out for you or that I missed?

[spidervee]

easy (like you) • jake seresin x fem!reader

↳ marbles series // part 1

summary: jake doesn’t always think before he acts and you tend to do enough thinking for the both of you. this is the story of your friendship and five years spent apart; your budding romance and broken hearts. part one -> on a rainy afternoon you run into an old friend and realize that some moments make a friendship

words: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ only; cursing; reader's nickname is jersey; no use of y/n; frat parties and football players; flirting and sexual tension; heavy making out and some touching; virgin!reader; protective!jake; childhood friends to strangers to almost lovers; thoughts and validation always appreciated; not edited because reasons; part one of eight

You start work at the campus library on a Tuesday, the sky overcast and dull with the threat of rain and the air laid heavy with humidity. It’s still July, early enough that the semester hasn’t quite appeared on the horizon and the library hosts only a few scattered patrons, mostly graduate students who arrive upon opening, settle into a secluded corner, and hunker down for six or seven hours of frenzied typing. In their hunched shoulders and the dark circles under their eyes, you catch a glimpse of a possible future self—there are a few versions of her running around in your head these days, vying for attention and the plans to make themselves your reality. 

Fewer patrons translates to fewer books in circulation and your boss grants you the kindness of reshelving, suggesting it will help you familiarize yourself with the place. You appreciate the opportunity to get lost amongst the stacks, the smell of old books curling into your nostrils as you run your fingertips along delicate leatherbound spines. In the months to follow you’ll learn that your affections are torn between the aged Romantic poetry collections on the fifth floor and the crisp new medical textbooks that live on the second. But on this particular Tuesday, your first of many, you find yourself in the company of Walt Whitman—and the myriad of scholarship surrounding him—when you hear the telltale sound of a downpour against the tin roof overhead, as if the sky has opened up and let loose all its fury. Cringing, you suddenly remember the exact location of your umbrella—hung neatly off the back of your closet door in the dorm room you share with another freshman on the entirely opposite side of campus.

If you’re lucky, the rain will stop by the time your shift is over in—you check your wrist for the time—twenty-six minutes. 

You’re not. And it isn’t. 

In the front vestibule, you briefly debate the merits of dashing through an apocalyptic storm versus camping out underneath one of the uncomfortable-looking cubbies on the Humanities floor. 

“Wanna share?”  

A voice, thick with the Texan twang you’ve not yet grown accustomed to since moving back to Austin last month, draws you from your inner turmoil. Glancing over, you wish you’d just been decisive enough to scurry back to the safety of the stacks because there’s a man standing next to you who you’re pretty sure is a movie star, with his straight white teeth and his chiseled jaw and his carelessly confident posture. 

“Better yet,” he grins at you, offering you the handle of a bright orange umbrella emblazoned with a University of Texas logo, “Why don’t you just take it?”

There’s something familiar about him but you choose not to ask, lest he think you’re flirting with him. Still, the boyish grin that tugs at the corners of his lips is one that sends you reeling into years earlier and you nearly stumble over your own feet as recognition barrels into you. 

“Jake?” 

He blinks and for a moment you think you’ve made a mistake. But then he’s tilting his head and pulling expensive-looking aviators down the bridge of his nose—why the fuck does he need them in this weather anyways—and really looking at you. 

If you weren’t sure before, you are now because, sure, you might have been only thirteen the last time you saw Jake Seresin, but there was no forgetting those sparkling green eyes and the mischief that constantly simmered just beneath their surface.

“Holy shit, Jersey? That really you?” He sounds happy, if more than a little disbelieving, when he finally speaks. Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief that he remembers you as well—you’re not sure you could have survived the mortification otherwise.

“Yeah,” you try for a small nonchalant grin, as if your entire world hasn’t just exploded, “Hi.”

“Hey.” Jake laughs, and the sound is deeper than you remember—well, no shit, you tell yourself, he’s a man now. “This is fucking insane,” he says, his smile deepening and as puts the umbrella into your hands. “Here. Lead the way.” 

You’re not sure what possesses you to simply do as he says—take his umbrella, open it up against the wind, and start walking. A small bit of guilt eats at you because you’re not tall enough to maintain coverage for you and Jake so he’s getting drenched as he walks quietly alongside you, the wind and rain creating too much noise for real conversation anyways. His longer legs are easily keeping pace with your own hurried strides and, with that iota of guilt subsiding, you almost laugh at the confidence Jake exudes, as though he knows he looks good soaking wet with a t-shirt clinging to a lean and muscular chest and locks of blond hair sticking to his forehead, falling into the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen. It’s comical and you wonder if you’ve fallen asleep somewhere between the 19th century romance novels and awoken in a weird parallel version of your boring reality. 

What other explanation is there for running into the boy you’d first met in the seventh grade when your mother had been transferred to Austin for work? The boy who’d laughed when you told him you’d just moved from New Jersey but you absolutely were not from there, thank you very much, and who had bestowed the city’s name upon you as a way to playfully torture you for the two years you spent living down the street from him. The boy who you’d wanted to be your first kiss, more than anything else, who’d told you he was going to be the best pilot the Navy had even seen and, no Jersey I will not join the Air Force it is not the same thing, The boy who you’d wept over when your parents announced you were moving, again, because it wasn’t fair that you had to leave behind your entire life (Jake) and all your friends (Jake) and everything you loved (Jake) all over again. 

You’ve not much time to contemplate your unexpected reunion because soon enough you’ve reached your dorm building and are diving for shelter underneath the awning in the entryway while Jake takes his umbrella back, not that he’s got much use for it now. You mumble a shame-faced thanks, which Jake quickly shrugs off, insisting that the flu he’s doubtless going to catch will be worth helping you. 

And then, the words you’ve been hoping and fearing. “I’ve missed you, Jers. It’s been too long.” Jake reaches out to brush a drop of water off your shoulder in a way that is all-too-familiar. “You should come by mine,” he suggests, “We’re having a welcome back party next weekend.” 

*** 

Standing on the porch of Jake’s frat house the following Friday, you try not to imagine yourself as fresh meat, an unwitting feast for a house full of horny pledges. 

You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to choose an outfit that you’re still not entirely thrilled with, worried that the thigh-kissing hemline sends the wrong message and that the red lipstick is too bold a choice. So worried, in fact, that you’d almost tapped out and just curled up in bed, but your roommate had already invited her boyfriend over and you really, really weren’t in the mood to listen to them try to have sex quietly while you awkwardly drank tea in the shared living room and pretending not to hear the bed creaking. 

So, with no other option, you slip into the house, hoping to go unnoticed for as long as possible as you’ve only rehearsed two bits of small talk on your walk over and have absolutely zero opinion about the Longhorns other than to smile and nod. 

A drink, that’s what you need. 

Unfortunately for you, the kitchen is empty save for one very large blond man who looks like he could play linebacker—you think, at least, as you’re not sure what size linebackers are meant to be in relation to all other football players. 

He begins talking and you can’t even pretend that you don’t know his words are directed at you because you’re the only other person there and he’s asking you about your name and your major and why’re you all by yourself, cutie and how’d you find your way over to this party?

Opening the fridge allows you a moment of reprieve from the conversation, its hum a gentle comfort as you mindlessly rifle through the various beers stocked on otherwise bare shelves. 

“Uh, Jake invited me.” 

“Seresin?” He sounds disbelieving, as though Jake Seresin would never have invited you to a party like this. It makes you wonder how much he’s changed since you once knew him. He’d obviously gotten hotter—Jake had always been a cute kid, the one that adults weirdly laughed over being a future heartbreaker. But you had the sense they weren’t wrong. That day at the library, before he’d realized it was you, had he thought you were some other girl, one he’d bedded? 

Things go downhill from there and before you know it, you’ve lost all personal space mr. maybe a linebacker and can’t quite seem to work your way out from where he’s wrapped a thick arm around you.

Jake finds you like that, and, for a moment, when his eyes meet yours he looks annoyed. Then, his expression shifts in such a way that it makes you wonder what he saw etched upon your face because he scowls and puffs his chest out at the man next to you.

“Tyler, get your fucking paws off my girl.” 

The man—Tyler—who’s been monopolizing your space immediately takes a step away from you and you welcome the relief of no longer smelling the beer on his breath. He mumbles an apology to Jake, something about not knowing, and you don’t keep track of where he slinks off to, instead focusing on how intensely Jake is watching you. 

“C’mere,” Jake breathes, reaching out and tucking you into his side, the smell of his cologne instantly making you feel safer—this, a smell you don’t mind at all. In a swift motion, he pulls the Longhorns cap from his head and sets it atop yours, grinning as it falls ever so slightly over your eyes. “No one else is gonna bug you if you’re wearing that, Jersey.” 

“Thanks,” you mumble, a little embarrassed at needing to be protected—or wanting to be. 

“And don’t you leave my sight.” 

You want to protest, argue that he should have met you at the door instead of being distracted by pretty girls in short shorts and crop tops, but he’s smiling at you again in that way of his; the one that makes your heart flutter. 

*** 

Somehow, you end up in Jake’s bedroom, two beers deep and a little tipsy and still wearing his cap, though now it sits backwards over your hair. 

“Never imagined I’d see you again, sweetheart.” 

“Sweetheart,” you roll your eyes to hide the pleasure such a nickname gives you, “Does that work on all the girls ‘round here, Jake?” 

“You’d be surprised,” he shrugs nonchalantly, spreading his thighs wide as he falls into a seat on his bed, and motioning for you to come nearer. You hesitate—Jake’s grown up now, but isn’t he still the same little boy you used to skip rocks with out by the pond behind his family’s barn? Aren’t you still the same shy little girl hiding a biting tongue between worrying lips? 

“Hardly,” you counter, taking a step closer to Jake, weighing your options carefully in your mind as you do. He doesn’t seem bothered by your slowness, watches you from under thick lashes as you kick across his bedroom floor, in your socks now because you’d kicked your sneakers off at his bedroom door. 

“So, first thing’s first,” Jake chuckles, changing the topic, “Why Texas?” 

The question catches you off-guard and you have to stop yourself from opening and closing your mouth as you formulate a response. This was decidedly not one of the rehearsed topics of conversation. Since when had Jake asked deep questions? 

“I missed it here,” you reply, because it’s the only thing you can think to say and it’s an honest answer. Because you did miss Austin, and the late nights you’d spent by bonfires in Jake’s backyard and the way he’d helped you learn to ride a horse and the treks through the corn fields on that horse. 

“Don’t be shy,” Jake coaxes, “You can say that it’s ‘cause you missed me.” 

By now you’re standing between his thighs and looking down at him, at the way his arms are taut where they’re supporting his weight and the way his gaze is tilted up to drink in your features and the way his shirt is unbuttoned just a bit more than when you first saw him downstairs. 

“Jake.” Your voice is little more than a whisper and suddenly everything seems serious. Jake’s hands move to the backs of your thighs as he sits up a bit straighter, his eyes near level with your chest, though he keeps them focused on your face. 

“You’re so pretty, Jersey,” Jake breathes against the fabric of your dress, “Always been so pretty and so sweet.”  He gives your legs a little squeeze and you part them slightly so he can slip one hand between your thighs, resting it just above your knee. You’re worried at how embarrassingly warm you feel and think, for a moment, you need to step away because you should not be doing this. 

But then another voice, a louder one, asks you why shouldn’t you? You’d been hoping to have your first time before starting college and now, with the semester only a couple weeks off and Jake magically reappearing in your life—why not? 

“I had such a crush on you when we were kids,” Jake continues with a chuckle, his fingers drawing little circles on the sensitive skin between your legs. “Wanted you to be my first kiss so bad. Damn near broke my heart when you moved again.” 

No, no, no. He can’t be saying things like that. Can’t be giving utterance to the thoughts you’ve long-since buried because that’s truly not fair. Still, his words send warmth blooming through your abdomen and you feel your panties getting wet as Jake’s fingers continue their exploration. 

Gently, Jake’s other hand guides your wrist towards his crotch, leading you to press your palm flat against where his jeans are bulging. You can feel him harden further under your touch and you gulp, unsure what to do, gently rubbing your open hand up and down his zipper a few times. 

Then his lips are on yours and he’s kissing you as though he’s been starved, as though you’re the thing keeping him tethered to this world. He squeezes you between his thighs, pulling you ever closer to his body as he forefinger finds your underwear and swipes carefully across their seam and you gasp at the sensation. 

It’s all a bit overwhelming—your brain fuzzy from breathing in through gasps between kisses, your fingers trembling where they toy with the buckle of Jake’s belt, awaiting instruction, your ears ringing with the music from downstairs and the pounding of blood in your ears. 

And you can think of nothing to do so you stop, a little panicked, a little afraid, and entirely confused. Your shoulders have tensed and your hand has frozen in its spot on Jake’s lap where you simply stare at it, willing it to move. 

“You don’t seem super into this.” Jake says lightly as he pulls back, hands immediately withdrawn from your body and thumbs hitching into the pockets of his jeans. He doesn’t sound angry, just matter-of-fact. You’re knocked back into reality like you’ve just been dunked into a cold swimming pool and pull your own hands back, wringing them together. 

“I am,” you insist, “I’ve just…it’s…” 

He tilts his head to look at you, as though he’s trying to read some great cosmic truth in your sudden hesitation. Then he sighs. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” 

Good lord,  hearing it out loud is mortifying. You want to up and run, but Jake is there, wrapping an arm around you and shaking his head as he pulls you gently into a seat on his lap—it strikes you as ridiculous that you think it gentlemanly he’s avoiding placing you near his hard-on. 

“I can’t,” he sighs again, “Not without buying you dinner, taking you to some museum you’ll love and try to explain to me, and truly earning it. Earning you.” 

“But, I want to,” you protest, trying not cringe at how whiny you sound. 

“Really? 

You say nothing, which is more than enough of an answer for Jake and he slides you from his lap to his mattress. 

“I can’t go home,” you whisper, “At least, I don’t think I can.” Jake looks concerned and you launch into an explanation about your roommate and her boyfriend and not wanting to be rude or spoil the delicate beginnings of a friendship. 

Jake nods along, amenable to the story even though you’re certain it’s silly, then stands and moves over to the unkempt bookshelf on the other side of the room. He rummages around for a long moment before turning back to you with an open gamebox and a devilish smirk. 

“You still play Scrabble?” Jake asks, tossing a stray tile up and then deftly snatching it out of the air. 

“Still not particularly well,” you shrug, “I’m bad at exploiting the bonuses.” 

“Figured you were still a nice girl,” Jake teases and you feel your stomach twist at his words. “Let’s do this. I’ll order a pizza, you’ll kick my ass at this game, and then we’ll see where we’re at, yeah?” 

You nod, grateful for his tact, if more than a little surprised at it. Maybe Jake’s three older sisters had managed to teach him a thing or two, despite the constant bickering you remember. 

“Yeah.”

Jake smiles and sets to work putting the gameboard out. “I meant what I said last week,” he says without looking up, “I missed you, Jersey.” 

“Missed you too, Jake.”

You don’t kiss Jake again that night. In fact, you don’t kiss Jake again until two years later.

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 24 - Up Where We Belong

IN THIS CHAPTER: Graduation gowns, strawberry milkshakes, and Wayne asks a question [9.9k]

WARNINGS: dealing with grief (nancy, dottie, eddie to a less extent), writer not knowing how graduations are in the us

A/N: happy new year!!!! i hope everyone is having a wonderful start of 2024, here's your belated christmas gift from yours truly. if you read this and think "that's not how that works", then i don't know what to tell you bestie but i tried. i watched a TON of graduation ceremonies on youtube and i pulled heavily from those, aside from borrowing things from my own not-american graduation. i hope you enjoy it anyways! (and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!) <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

All we have is here and now All our life, out there to find

Friday, June 13th - 1986

Wayne Munson had walked the halls of Hawkins High School several times throughout recent years courtesy of his nephew’s misbehaving, but never making it past Principal Higgins’ office was turning out to be a problem. Resigned, he stomped on his cigarette gently before following a family that looked like they knew where they were going, regretting not taking up Eddie’s offer to escort him inside before he disappeared in search of his friends and fellow graduates. Graduation. Ain’t that a funny thing to think about, Wayne mused. The auditorium, he noted as he finally found it, was decorated in bright orange and calming forest green, a Class of 1986 paper banner hanging from the dark curtain that was doing its job as an unassuming background at the very back of the room. On the stage, there was a regal-looking wooden lectern, and a small table with stacked up rolls of paper tied with orange and green ribbons; next to it, a bunch of black chairs where teachers would probably be sitting during the event had been carefully lined up into a single row.

Excitement filled the air. It was in the murmurs of the people taking their seats, skimming their programs to proudly find the names of their kids printed on the semi-matte paper. It was in the way the school’s faculty could not stand still, barely having time to say hello to everyone walking in before they were off to check yet another little detail so everything could go as smoothly as possible. Wayne walked down the central aisle trying to find a good spot to sit in while feeling a bead of sweat go down his back. The last time he’d worn a suit, any suit, had been to his mother’s funeral eight years before; in fact, he still only owned that one suit. The temperature in Hawkins was steadily rising as June turned into July, and Wayne felt incredibly stuffy in his clothes but he didn’t dare wear anything less for such a special day. Eddie had defied all odds and was now a High School Graduate, the first Munson to walk to stage in three generations. Truth be told, his Uncle was willing to bet that he was actually the first one to do so in their entire family history, and thus, Wayne wore the suit, and the shirt, and the tie, and searched for a seat near the front to witness his nephew doing the exact opposite of what the whole town had always expected him to do: succeed.

Bianca, Donny’s mom, was fussing over her youngest grandson, Francesco, when she saw Wayne looking a little lost in the crowd and waved at him to wordlessly invite him to sit with them. The eldest Munson approached them with a smile, settling himself on the row behind the Vitale family who was so very busy trying to keep little Francesco and his (barely) older cousin Marco from running down the aisles and bothering other families.

“Good to see y’all made it,” Wayne commented, shaking Donny’s dad Angelo’s hand before turning to Vittoria, Donny’s heavily pregnant older sister. “Though I coulda sworn I heard you were on bed rest, missy.”

“I am, but what my doctor doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she laughed, hand resting over her swollen belly. “This little lady hasn’t stopped kicking me all day, I think she’s more excited than I am to finally be outside the house!”

“It’s a special day, I’m sure the doctor won’t mind too much as long as we take it slow,” her husband said, kissing the side of her head. “Say hi to Mr. Munson, Marco.”

“Hi!” the little boy said, standing between his parents’ seats. “Whose Grandpa are you?”

“Marco!” his dad exclaimed, but Wayne laughed loudly.

“That’s not a grandpa, you dummy! That’s Eddie’s dad,” said Francesco, before grabbing his cousin’s hand and leading him towards Nonna Giulia down the row in search of the candy she always kept in her purse.

“I’m sorry,” Vittoria said with an apologetic smile. “They read this picture book about families at pre-school and now he thinks all men with white hair are grandpas.”

“Ah, it’s fine. I know I’m not gettin’ any younger,” Wayne joked, his eyes straying to the side of the auditorium where the seniors were finally getting ushered into formation.

The Vitale family craned their necks to see their boy, and Wayne in turn searched for his: Eddie was standing near Jeff towards the middle of the line, the two of them engaged in conversation as they waited for everyone to get into their respective places. It wasn’t that Eddie wasn’t paying attention to what his friend was saying; he was clearly answering back and keeping the chat going, but it seemed to his Uncle that he was searching for someone in the crowd, eyes scanning rows of unknown family members for a face he hadn’t yet found. Wayne was about to lift his hand to let him know where he was sitting, but it soon became apparent that Eddie hadn’t been looking for him - he had been looking for the short haired girl who had just ran into the auditorium with a panicked look on her face and an askew cap on her head.

Dottie hurried over to where her classmates were standing, enveloping a curly haired girl Wayne wasn’t familiar with at the very back of the line in an enthusiastic hug before doing the same with Donny. Wayne saw with an amused smile how Eddie waited patiently for his turn while she hugged Jeff, and how all his anxiety looked like it was melting away as he embraced her, eyes closed and face buried in her hair. After saying their hellos, Dottie kept walking to the front of the line where she greeted a strawberry blonde girl with excited hops and shared an equally loving hug with both her and Gareth. Her dad watched her with a fond smile from his place near the doors, a program held tightly in his hands. Taking pity on the poor man who Wayne knew was attending the event alone much like he was, he motioned for James to join their mismatched group who gladly took the offer, walking briskly towards the still empty seat next to Eddie’s uncle. James greeted Donny’s family before getting comfortable on his wooden chair and let a long breath out. Finally.

“Long morning?” Wayne asked, knowingly.

“Be grateful you don’t have a teenage girl in your house, Wayne. It was near impossible to get here on time,” James scoffed.

“Can’t be worse than Ed’s allergy to his damn alarm clock. It went off for a whole 15 minutes before he got up today.”

“Did it wake you up?”

“Nah. Was already up reading the paper but I wasn’t about to turn it off for him. He just rolls over and keeps sleeping if I do,” he said, and James shook his head with an affectionate smile on his face.

“Teenagers, right?”

“Yup. Teenagers.”

Over the few short months Wayne and James had known each other, they had learned to appreciate the quiet but hard work the other did for their respective kid. It wasn’t easy to be a single father, and even though Wayne wasn’t Eddie’s biological dad, there was no doubt in James’ mind that he fulfilled that role wonderfully in the boy’s life and heart. The Munsons and the Burkes had gone through a lot over the years, that much was undeniable, but on that hot Friday morning both fathers could be proud that their kids had made it to the other side relatively unharmed, all the while somehow finding each other to rely on along the way. If Dottie and Eddie were going to be inseparable all summer as they had been since the day they met, it was only fair James and Wayne got to compare notes on parenting and commiserate over the little annoying things they’d miss once the kids had left the comforting safety of their family homes.

Before they could continue their talk however, teachers began herding the seniors into a neat single file and getting into their places on the stage, Principal Higgins taking his spot behind the lectern. Excitement amplified as the crowd hushed - only suppressed coughs and a few little children’s voices could be heard in the quiet room. Wayne saw Higgins approach the mic and took a deep breath letting the pride he’d been feeling all morning take over him. The heat of the almost-here summer was forgotten outside in the parking lot, along with his smushed cigarette butt and the heavy weight he’d been carrying since a CPS agent left a scared 8-year-old Eddie on his doorstep all those years ago.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Hawkins High School Principal Thomas Higgins,” the man began, voice booming across the room with the aid of loudspeakers; Dorothy peered at him over the shoulder of the taller girl standing in front of her. “On behalf of the faculty, staff, and administration of Hawkins High, we’d like to welcome family and friends, and most importantly, to our seniors to the Commencement Exercises of the Graduating Class of 1986.”

Higgins paused for effect and the crowd followed his cue by breaking into happy applause - the aforementioned seniors gleefully waved to the few family members they could find within the sea of heads straining to look at them. The Class of ‘86 stood patiently to the side towards the back of the auditorium, waiting to be called into the main aisle where their names would be announced one by one and they’d go up the stage, accept their diploma, and go back downstairs to the rows of chairs at the front left that had been reserved for them. The full graduating class was small, no more than 40 students, and Dottie wondered how different things would have been for her if she were graduating with her New York classmates in a year that comprised around 400 kids instead of doing it in Hawkins, Indiana.

“Please, rise from your seats and join us in singing the National Anthem, followed by the Hawkins High School Spirit Song,” Higgins announced, and the sound of creaking wooden chairs filled the air as everyone followed his request.

Dottie sang along to the National Anthem without thinking too much about it, but when the first notes of the Hawkins High school song came through the speakers, she realized she had no idea what the lyrics were. No one had told her they’d be singing it during their only rehearsal, and certainly no one had spared a moment to teach it to her in the last six months. She wasn’t even sure she knew a spirit song even existed before that very moment. Eyes surveying over the crowd of family members, she saw that most if not all were singing along - the only ones not joining in were probably those who hadn’t attended Hawkins High and lived in a different town, perhaps even in a different state altogether. Heat rising up her chest under her dark green gown, she turned her head to the front, feeling very much like an outsider amongst her peers for the first time in months. Bryan Butler right behind her sang louder as the song was ending and she tried to not call attention to herself to let him take the spotlight. Once the music stopped, Principal Higgins neared the lectern to continue his speech.

“Thank you, you may be seated now,” Higgins said, and the wooden creaking resumed for a second as everyone sat back down to watch the rest of the ceremony. “The Hawkins High School Class of 1986 has experienced many memorable moments over the last four years, and Hawkins is proud of how these young graduates have worked and persevered through hard times to get to this day. We as faculty could not be prouder or more thrilled to celebrate with them, and we look forward to sending them off onto the next chapter in their lives. Parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and other family members, we are honored to have you here today as our guests to celebrate our graduates and we thank you for your support. Please clap along as the Class of 1986 proceeds to their places.”

The speakers began playing Pomp and Circumstance March No.1 in D and the crowd broke into fervent applause once more, Michael Allen leading the way for his fellow seniors to stand in the central aisle right below the middle set of stairs where they’d wait to be called to the stage. As they fell into their designated spots, Dottie finally recognized who had been assigned to stand right in front of her; it was Robin Buckley, the shy band nerd she had met at Family Video a few weeks earlier and briefly bonded with over their shared love of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. She was wearing white Converse sneakers with little drawings in blue and black ink, and the edges of her black rolled up jeans could be seen poking below her gown. She’s so cool, Dottie thought, not knowing that Robin was desperately trying not to scan the audience lest her nerves paralyzed her. Not even painting her nails bright orange had saved them from being chewed on this time around.

“Hawkins High School’s Class of 1986 was given the opportunity to choose a member of our staff to read their names as they cross the stage today,” Principal Higgins explained as three people already on stage stood from their seats. “I am honored to announce that this year, our Assistant Principal Mrs. Elaine Chandler will present the diplomas to our newest graduates. Mrs. Suzanne O’Donnell, Mr. Leopold Hauser, and myself will present them with their diploma cover, graduation medallions, and honor cords if applicable. Elaine?” he motioned for her to switch places with him.

“Thank you, Principal Higgins,” said Assistant Principal Elaine Chandler, adjusting her glasses on her nose as she looked down the list of names in front of her. “Allen, Michael,” she called first from behind the lectern, and the crowd clapped as Michael went up to her and received a hug and a rolled up certificate before moving down the stage towards the other teachers to shake their hands.

Dottie’s palms began sweating as more names kept being called and her time as a Hawkins High student slowly came to an end. Even though she had felt very much like an intruder looking in through a window during her first few months in the town, she had to admit that was happy here now - certainly much more happier than she’d ever been back in New York. Here all the teachers knew her name without having to read it from a file. Here she had a group of friends she’d go to literal Hell and back for, and she had a boyfriend who loved her the way she’d always thought love should be: easy and gentle. Here she had attended the best prom of her life, and her face would be permanently attached to a club that had given her the safety she’d never gotten anywhere else to finally, truthfully, be herself. Here Dottie had been at home.

While Barnes, Kathleen was getting her extracurricular honor cords for being part of the cheerleading team, Mrs. Chandler called upon Buckley, Robin and Dottie suddenly found herself at the front of the line. Robin climbed the steps with as much grace as she could muster while being pretty much mortified, and Mrs. Chandler soothed her with friendly pats on her back before presenting her with her diploma. The tall girl accepted it with shaky hands, her rings glinting under the stage lights, when a loud cheer rang above the polite applause of the crowd. Robin laughed, half embarrassed and half grateful, and when Dottie turned to see where the sounds were coming from, she found not only Dustin and Erica hooting and hollering besides a couple who were clearly Robin’s parents, but also that Steve guy that worked at Family Video with her, the one that Robin had described as her strictly platonic best friend with a capital P. It looked like retail did bond you forever after all.

Mr. and Mrs. Buckley looked between confused and amused as Steve pinched his bottom lip and let out a loud whistle - a chortle escaped Robin’s mouth while a cheerful Mr. Hauser, who had been her favorite teacher all four years of high school, put her graduation medallion around her neck, nerves all but forgotten before she skipped her way down to Mrs. O’Donnell to receive her extracurricular honor cords for being in band. Huh, that’s curious, Dottie thought distractedly. Didn’t know Dustin and Erica were such good friends with her and Steve. I wonder how they met.

“Burke, Dorothy,” called Mrs. Chandler through the speakers, jostling Dottie out of her musings.

This was it. The moment of truth. Dottie climbed the stairs and accepted a hug from Mrs. Chandler, hearing her friends cheering for her loudly in the background when her damp fingers came into contact with her diploma. She glanced at the crowd and time seemed to stop when her eyes found her Dad, a proud smile on his face and his program tucked under his armpit so he could clap loudly for his daughter. She waved at him and Wayne, who had also stood up to cheer for her, and time resumed after a blinding flash went off and she was whisked along to where the rest of the teachers were standing. She shook hands with both Principal Higgins and Mr. Hauser even though she hardly knew both men, and accepted her diploma cover and her graduation medallion before turning towards Mrs. O’Donnell. She was about to hug her teacher when the old woman presented her with her own honor cords, entwined green and orange ending in delicate tassels dangling from her manicured hands.

“That’s not- I’m not-” Dottie began.

“You have one of the highest GPAs in your year, besides being involved in two extracurriculars. Congratulations, Miss Burke. You’ve earned this,” O’Donnell said, and it was perhaps the only time in the whole semester Dottie had seen her genuinely smile.

“T-thank you,” she managed to get out, letting the woman drape the cords on her shoulders and rushing to her seat before she began bawling on stage.

“Hey, congrats!” Robin whispered once they were both seated next to each other, shaking her own cords lightly. The ceremony continued with no regards to their little chat.

“You too! Didn’t know I had qualified for any of this, I think everyone saw me have an aneurism up there.”

“Nah, everyone’s too nervous about not tripping down the stairs on their way back, don’t worry about it.”

“Coleman, Gareth,” Mrs. Chandler announced, grabbing Dottie’s attention.

Carver, Jason hadn’t even reached the sidestage stairs to go down after accepting his diploma when Gareth, in his haste to get everything over with, tried to climb two steps at a time and got his feet tangled in his dark green gown. Cunningham, Chrissy, who was right behind him, quickly caught his arm before he could lose balance and hit the floor. He quietly thanked her with red cheeks and embarrassed eyes before he finally went up the stairs, one step at a time. Chrissy went back to the front of the line while other classmates around Dottie and Robin snickered at the little mishap; Gareth accepted his diploma and other paraphernalia, and got the hell off the stage as quickly as humanly possible.

“Thank God that wasn’t me,” Robin muttered, and Dottie grimaced in agreement.

Gareth ended up awkwardly sitting between Jason and Chrissy, but much to his relief, they had all been assigned to the row behind Dottie. Taking advantage of the proximity, he leaned forward to talk to his friend as the ceremony progressed and Chrissy quickly joined, stopping to give Dottie a kiss on her cheek from her seat behind her as a second greeting. Jason watched the scene unfold and asked himself when had his girlfriend started hanging out with people he didn’t know. He thought he knew everything about Chrissy - when had that changed and to what extent? Selfishly, he couldn’t help but think about what the future would look like for them when they left for college. Chrissy was headed to OSU and he would be at Indiana State, almost four hours and more than 250 miles between them. Would this be their last summer together? He didn’t like to entertain that thought.

Davis, Monica, Foster, Kyle, and Hanson, Randall were some of the names they didn’t pay much attention to until Humphrey, Andrew was called to the stage. Jason distracted himself from his anxiety over his relationship possibly having an expiration date by clapping loudly for his best friend. Dottie and Gareth shared a mischievous look: Andy wasn’t wearing any bandages on his nose anymore, but the dark purple shadow under his eye was still very visible with the bright stage lights illuminating his face. After him came Hurley, Marcie, one of Dot’s colleagues from the newspaper club, and Kemper, Lucy, the girl who had sold almost everyone their prom tickets. Morgan, Theresa was on stage when Dottie realized she knew almost all the people in her graduating class by name now, even if they had never spoken to one another before. In New York, she’d never known the names of all the people within a single class, not since elementary school at least. She wondered if they remembered her, but then decided she didn’t care that the answer was probably a resounding no.

When Munson, Edward was called to the stage, Dottie and Gareth stood up to make as much noise as possible, both infinitely proud of the long haired boy with the charming eyes who was accepting the one piece of paper that had seemed so elusive all this time. Dustin and Erica hollered at him, and the rest of the Hellfire Club, still in line waiting to accept their diplomas, joined them in their antics. When Principal Higgins went in for a handshake, Eddie pulled him into a hug; the older man laughed and let it happen, a sort of fondness for the metalhead’s unwavering resilience present in their interaction. He accepted his medallion and his own honor cords for being the Chapter Leader of a student organization, and just before he climbed off, he approached the edge of the stage with a dazzling grin.

“Here it comes,” Dottie muttered, anticipating her boyfriend to give the middle finger to the entire town and bolt as he had declared he’d do on multiple occasions.

What Eddie did instead was find his Uncle in the crowd and bow deeply in his direction as people clapped for him like it was the end of a play. Wayne pretended to not be choking back tears as his nephew got off the stage, lips pursed behind his fingers trying to hide the grin threatening to break out on his face.

“Coward,” Gareth said, and Chrissy hit him in the shoulder.

There was no time for Eddie to do anything more but find his seat, because immediately after him came Patton, Jeffrey, and exactly ten names later, came Vitale, Donatello. The teachers laughed and cooed at his excited nephews jumping up and down the aisle, cheering for his favorite Uncle. One day in the not so distant future, they’d probably be handing them their diplomas too. Just how many faces in the crowd had walked through these same halls, attended the same classes, and some of them even had the same teachers as the Class of ‘86? A much younger and recently married O’Donnell, a Higgins as a History teacher prior to his Principal days, a Kaminski after his eldest son had just been born. Never before had the kids in the Hellfire Club felt as much part of the Hawkins High community as they did now - it almost felt unfair that they had to permanently leave the place to finally feel that way.

“And last, but certainly not least,” said Mrs. Chandler when there was only one person left to climb up the stage. “-Wheeler, Nancy, the valedictorian for the Class of 1986 who will say a few words for us and her fellow graduates after receiving her diploma.”

The crowd broke once again in loud applause as a red cheeked Nancy in her dark green gown and bright orange valedictorian stole greeted all her teachers with a few flashcards containing her speech in her hand. Karen Wheeler looked at her daughter with shiny eyes, infinitely proud of her little girl that’d grown into a smart, capable woman right in front of her. In a few months she’d be far away, following her dreams, and taking a piece of her mother’s hopes with her as she did so, but none of her fears. Holly raised her arms, silently asking to be lifted up so she could see better, and Karen picked up her youngest daughter, pointing at her big sister in the distance so she could wave at her. Nancy took her place behind the lectern and looked at the audience, a carefully put together mask over bittersweet eyes that Dottie had almost become used to seeing on her friend. If she stared into a mirror too deeply, she could recognize the dents in her skin of her own mask, now laying shattered at her feet.

“Honorable guests, Principal Higgins, Hawkins High School faculty, academic and supporting staff, friends, families, and graduates - good morning,”  Nancy began, voice soft but pleasantly clear. “It is with great pride that I stand here before you on such a special occasion to deliver this speech, which I promise I’ll try to keep short and sweet,” she lightheartedly smiled at her audience before she grew solemn once more. “However, before I start, I would like to ask you to join me in a moment of silence to commemorate the students and family members who could not be here today with us, and to remember the victims of the Starcourt Mall Fire on July 4th, 1985.”

Not a sound could be heard for a few heartbeats, and Dottie watched the faces of the town she’d come to love morph from amused to weary. There was real mourning here, a deep gash left open in a community that couldn’t heal properly because some wounds were just too deep to scab over. Eddie had told her everything he knew about what had happened, the official story everyone that hadn’t been involved in the tragedy repeated when asked, and her heart constricted when she saw Dustin and Erica in their seats with their heads down. They looked downright haunted. Steve sat next to them, watching over them with such turmoil in his eyes that Dottie had to wonder if there was something they were all missing about what happened. Had Steve also been in the mall with them? Had Robin, who was quietly sitting next to her like she was reliving a horror movie behind her eyes, her fingers absentmindedly tangling and untangling themselves in her honor cords?

Karen, sitting next to her unaware husband and emotionally closed off son, took a few deep breaths to keep her tears at bay and gently kissed Holly’s head before shifting her baby on her lap to hold her against her chest more tightly, like someone could snatch her off her arms at any given moment. Dottie twisted her mom’s engagement ring on her left middle finger and bit the inside of her cheek while blinking away the wetness gathering on her lash line. Not now, she scolded herself. Later.

“Thank you,” Nancy said, breaking the silence and moving onto her next flashcard. “Four years ago, we arrived at Hawkins High as children, and we are now leaving as young adults with our whole lives ahead of us. Some will go on to college, others will enter the workforce, but all of us will take the lessons learned here and let them guide us to become who we were always meant to be,” she turned to look to her side. “I'd like to thank our teachers for sharing their knowledge with us, for being patient and pushing us to achieve great things. With their help, our Hawkins High Mathletes reached their first ever state finals and brought home the silver medal earlier this year.”

There was a loud cheer coming from somewhere in the auditorium that sounded very much like Rick Stewart, exiting Captain of the Hawkins High Mathletes. Some people laughed goodnaturedly and joined in, the teachers clapping proudly at their labor being recognized. Nancy smiled and continued, knowing the applause would only get louder as she read the next part of her speech.

“I'd like to thank our coaches and counselors for making school more than just homework. You taught us about discipline, teamwork, and integrity, which led our basketball team to win the 1A North Central Conference Championship for the first time in 22 years,” the applause that followed was deafening, and it took several minutes for it to die down before Nancy could keep going. “I'd like to thank our families for supporting us in more ways that we could ever count, for chaperoning our dances and field trips, cheering for us at our sporting events, and attending all our plays with so much love and commitment, that our Drama Club was able to extend their winter run of West Side Story with a packed audience every night until their closure.”

The cheers this time were much more subdued, yet polite and sustained enough to not be embarrassing to the Drama Club members and their families in the audience. It was clear, however, where the town’s loyalties stood: Indiana’s love for basketball was known throughout the country, and Hawkins wasn’t the exception to the rule. Nancy looked at her graduating class and grabbed the last two flashcards in her pile.

“No one achieves success alone, and we are truly grateful for the help and guidance we’ve received during our years as Hawkins Tigers. However, if my classmates indulge me for a second, I’d like to ask each of you to think about a moment where you felt proud of yourself. Think about the things you’ve accomplished here, and the challenges you’ve overcome. A great woman by the name of Eleanor Roosevelt once wrote, you gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’ You must do the thing you think you cannot do. Our time as Hawkins High School students has come to an end. We did it, Class of ‘86. We did the thing we thought we couldn’t do, and we’ve learned that we can take the next thing that comes along, so keep moving forward. I’m proud of you, and I hope you are too. Thank you, and congratulations to us all.”

Dottie followed Nancy with her eyes as she shook Principal Higgins’ hand once more and left the stage towards her seat. Her hands were shaking lightly, and her lips were pursed, but she almost looked lighter, like she’d left significant weight behind that had nothing to do with public speaking related nerves. Nancy’s speech had been beautiful, there were no doubts about that, but it was strange to think about someone like her looking at her high school years as something that had been horrific to live through. She was popular enough to not have been bullied, pretty enough to have been desired and looked up to, smart and well-off enough to never have to worry about not fitting in.

High school was certainly hard for almost everyone, but the way Nancy had spoken about it left a familiar bitter taste in Dottie’s mouth. If Eddie had been right when retelling her the town’s recent strange happenings, Nancy had probably been thinking about her friend Barb when writing her speech. She would have most likely graduated alongside her, maybe she’d be headed to a nearby college where the two girls could still see each other often, or to a completely different one across the country and they’d have to call every weekend with updates on their new lives. Holland, Barbara should have been called up to the stage between Hall, Suzanne and Humphrey, Andrew, but now she was just another name added to the always-growing list of people who ought to have been there, but ultimately couldn’t be.

“Thank you for that inspiring speech, Miss Wheeler,” said Principal Higgins, returning to his place behind the lectern to close out the ceremony. “Graduating is an amazing achievement for these students, and we here at Hawkins High are excited to see the things they’ll accomplish in the future. By the authority vested in me by the Governor of the State of Indiana, Mr. Robert D. Orr, I confer the appropriate diplomas for the Class of 1986. Graduates, please move your tassels to the left,” he smiled at his now former students. “Congratulations Tigers, you can now throw your hats!”

As they had been instructed during rehearsals, they threw their hats directly above them, not wanting to lose them on the way down before they could take pictures with them but in the excitement and elation of the graduates, some caps ended up on the floor, prompting kids to search for the lost items under their chairs while their classmates cheered above them and congratulated one another. Dottie hugged Robin again while Principal Higgins said his goodbyes through the loudspeaker without anyone really hearing him, families eager to leave the auditorium and get into their cars quickly to avoid the inevitable bottleneck at the entrance of the parking lot.

“Thank you all for coming and being part of this special moment,” Higgins said, voice ringing above the loud chatter and scraping of chairs. “Please drive safe and have a good weekend!”

“Dad!” Dottie called upon seeing James talking to Gareth’s family near their cars. He waved at her in acknowledgment and she turned to her friend to say her goodbyes. “I’ll call you as soon as I have my new schedule down, okay? We can go to the movies some day!”

“I’m gonna go see family up North next week, but I’ll call you when I get back,” Chrissy said, arm still tangled with hers. “We have to go see the new Karate Kid coming out soon, Ralph Macchio is so cute.”

“I’m not even gonna correct you on that because I do wanna see it with you, but just know I think you’re crazy,” the brunette said, laughing at her friend.

“Well, excuse me, bad boys aren’t everyone’s type,” the blonde retorted, a secretive grin gracing her fairy-like features before she pulled her into a goodbye hug. “I’m gonna miss you!”

“We’ll see each other soon! You go have a great trip, forget about this boring town for a while.”

After the girls said their goodbyes and went in separate directions, Dottie watched Chrissy greet her family with curious eyes. She didn’t know much about the Cunninghams and was surprised to see that her newest and most unlikely friend had a little brother she had never mentioned before. He must have not been the right age to be in high school yet or he’d probably be under Jason’s overprotective wing, especially if he was athletic like his big sister.

Chrissy might have looked small and dainty, but there was a certain fierceness cheerleaders had in their step - their aura had been painstakingly trained to command a room and demand attention. And yet, Dottie noticed that as Chrissy turned from her unassuming Dad to her elegant Mother, the brightness she radiated seemed to dim ever so slightly, even if her charming smile stayed in place.

“There you are! I was looking for you everywhere,” James exclaimed, her thoughts instantly lost to the wind. “Congratulations, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Dottie melted into his hug, knocking her cap even more askew with his shoulder. “They gave me honor cords, did you see? I didn’t know I had earned them!”

“I’m seeing them now! You worked so hard, good job.”

“Congratulations, sweetie!” Lydia, Gareth’s mom, said, pulling her into a hug. “Have you met Gretchen yet? Gare’s big sister?”

“Hey, congrats,” Gretchen said with a polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, hi! It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Likewise,” Gretchen said, eyes sparkling with mischief as she saw Gareth approach with two more kids toddling behind him. “I’m always really curious to meet any girl who would even talk to my brother in the first place, but you seem normal enough.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Gareth said, and Erica snickered.

“Honestly, he’s lucky we’re nice to him,” the middle-grader joined in, making Gareth groan in annoyance.

“You’re my friend, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Congrats, Dot!” Dustin said, hugging the older girl from her right side, prompting Erica to cuddle up to her on the left. “We’re super proud of you.”

“Aw, Dus,” she pouted, leaning her head on his. He really was like the little brother she’d always wanted and never had. “Thank you, you’re so sweet. I’m happy you two could be here!”

“It was fun! We enjoyed it.”

“I saw you guys with that Steve guy earlier, did you come with him?”

“You know Steve?” Dustin said, curious.

“Yeah, he works at Family Video with Robin!” Dottie said.

“You know Robin?” it was Erica’s turn to ask.

“Uh, yeah, we’re classmates? She was sitting next to me throughout the ceremony- wait, how do you know them? What am I missing here?”

“Nothing! Steve’s, uh- Steve’s our babysitter!” Dustin hurried to say. “Did you know he used to date Nancy a while ago? That’s how we met, through Nancy. And we know Robin through Steve. Hawkins is a very small place.”

“W-what? Nancy and…”

“Yeah, she dumped him in front of everyone at a party and he’s been all mopey and sad since then,” Erica said, prompting Dustin to elbow her. “What? Just the facts!”

“Uh…,” Dottie looked at Gareth, dumbfounded.

“Anyway,” Dustin continued, aware that multiple eyes were on him. “He’s our babysitter.”

“Dustin, you’re fifteen,” Gareth laughed. “You’re a little old to still have a babysitter.”

“My Mom’s protective of me, okay? I’m an only child.”

“And he’s a good babysitter?” Dottie asked, amused.

“The best. Steve’s… yeah, Steve’s great. More like an older brother figure than a babysitter,” Dustin smiled, clearly fond of the older boy. “You should hang out with him, I think you’d like each other.”

“Stop. Just stop,” said Erica, knowing where Dustin was headed.

“What?” he shrugged, feigning innocence.

“Alright, let’s take some pictures!” said Lydia, not having paid any attention to the kids’ conversation.

While they were in the middle of taking photos, the remaining Hellfire Class of ‘86 joined the group with their respective families. Eddie snuck up behind Dottie while she was distracted taking a picture with Jeff and picked her up, arms encircling her middle and spinning her around while she giggled unabashedly, hands coming to rest on his forearms when he put her down but didn’t let go. Wayne had to hide a chuckle while he talked to the other parents; his nephew really wasn’t as smooth and mysterious as he thought he was, and Wayne had been around the sun too many times to not recognize what he was seeing between Eddie and his little lady friend. Gretchen, in turn, looked at Donny and lifted an eyebrow at him quizzically.

“What have I missed?” she quietly said, a smirk lifting the corner of her lips. She’d always liked Donny the best out of all his brother’s friends, and was aware that as much of a good confidant as he was, he never shied away from gossip.

“He said he wanted to wait until after graduation to ask her out so I don’t think anything has happened yet,” Donny muttered back, crossing his arms and leaning closer to her friend’s big sister. “They’re totally gone for each other, though.”

“You don’t say,” Gretchen said and turned to Erica who looked very interested in their conversation. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s too chicken to ask her out,” Erica laughed. “But they have been looking really cozy lately. That’s suspicious.”

“Eddie knows she’s into him,” Donny said, making Erica’s eyes widen. “Forgot to tell you about that.”

“You bastard, I thought we had a good thing going and you’re withholding information from me? Nuh-uh, this is betrayal. I want reparations.”

“Oh, she’s feisty,” Gretchen said.

“Come to the restaurant this weekend, I’ll give you ice cream and we can catch up and compare notes,” Donny offered, genuinely interested in keeping his friendship with the fiery younger girl intact. “But it has to be this weekend, Dot starts working with us on Monday.”

“How big is that ice cream?”

“Big as you want.”

“Deal,” she put out her hand for them to shake on it, but it was merely a formality - Donatello Vitale had no intentions of ever crossing the one and only Erica Sinclair again.

As families began saying their goodbyes and heading to their cars, it soon became clear that Eddie and Dottie did not want the festivities to end so fast. They’d already taken multiple photos with everyone and with each other, waved Dustin and Erica off as they climbed into Steve’s red BMW, and even said hello to the Wheelers, but they would just not leave each other’s side, always fluttering around one another no matter what was happening. If James thought anything strange about it, he didn’t mention it, but as Wayne looked at his nephew’s beaming smile, he realized he didn’t have the heart to cut his happiness short when there was such an easy solution to their problem.

“You two have any plans for lunch?” Wayne asked James, finishing up another smoke.

“Not really, no. I was thinking of picking up some burgers to celebrate. Why? You have any suggestions?”

“Well, me an’ Eddie like to go to the diner down on Randolph on special occasions. Thought you might want to join us,” he smiled at the kids who were now both staring at him expectantly.

“Can we go, Dad?” Dottie asked with hopeful eyes. “They have crinkle fries - you love crinkle fries!”

“That’s really kind of you, Wayne, but we don’t want to intrude,” James was saying, but Eddie hurried forward.

“You wouldn’t be intruding, sir. We both graduated today, we can celebrate together!”

“Come on, Dad, they wouldn’t ask if they didn’t want us there.”

Both older men looked at each other with knowing eyes and James sighed theatrically before conceding, his daughter cheering happily at the new impromptu plans. The teens quickly headed in the direction of their cars deep in their own happy little world; their parents amusedly looked as Eddie opened her door for her and helped her in while they talked about burger combinations and debated about their orders.

“Meet you there?” James asked Wayne, also getting into his car.

“You bet. Come on, boy, quit the yappin’. You’ll see her again in ten minutes, she’s not gonna run away from you!”

“Jesus Christ, Wayne!”

Eddie and Dottie had already been to the diner down on Randolph a few times; some of them before they’d begun dating and once after, but never with their parental figures as unofficial chaperones. The booth at the back they loved to sit at was occupied, so they chose a table near the front instead - the diner was bustling with energy as multiple families had had the same idea as them and got a headstart on their kids’ summer holidays. Eddie helped Dottie with her chair, thoroughly enjoying how shy she’d get whenever he did something remotely gentleman-like, and plonked himself next to her, quickly engaging in conversation about the menu she was holding. James had no option but to sit in front of his daughter as Wayne took the seat in front of Eddie, both of them also busying themselves with their own menus.

The teens tried to act normal in front of their elders, they really did, but it was such a lovely day, and they were celebrating one of the biggest achievements in their short lives that it was as if they’d forgotten that friends didn’t usually look so smitten with one another. Wayne took little peeks at them over the bright laminated piece of paper in his hands, catching how Eddie was stroking the side of her arm resting on the table with his pinky finger while she talked; he loudly coughed when James put his menu down and took his reading glasses off, the unexpected sound making them jump and separate instantly just in time for him not to see them. A young and friendly looking waitress approached their table, pad of paper and pen in her hand.

“Hi! Are you ready for me to take your order or are we waiting for the wives to arrive?” she said with a perfect customer-service smile. Dottie blinked up at her twice, her face morphing into a blank expression.

“No, thank you, it’s just gonna be us four today,” James said politely.

Today, he’d said. Like Margaret and Maureen were off doing other things, like working or shopping or attending a jazzercise class, and couldn’t join them for lunch but they’d probably be around later. Like they weren’t gone forever. Like they were still alive. Nancy’s speech rattled around in Dottie’s brain, her eyes glazing over and her ears filling with invisible cotton. James and Wayne ordered their food, and Eddie ordered for both himself and her, very much aware that something was bothering her. Her sight was stuck to her Dad’s hand resting on the cheap laminate tabletop. The gold band that had been there on his finger since Margaret and him had said I do all those years ago taunted her, glinting under the fluorescent lights of the diner. They’d promised each other forever, and what did they get? What did she get?

“Dot,” Eddie muttered, hand sneaking down the table to settle on the exposed skin of her knee. “Darling, can you hear me?”

“Huh?” she turned to look at him in a daze.

Behind him, there was a table where a family sat: a father, a mother and a daughter, barely older than she’d been when she’d lost the most important woman in her life. The baby gurgled in her Mom’s arms, and the woman cooed at her, noses nuzzling against each other’s. Dottie turned her head towards the other side of the diner where a mother was cleaning up a little boy’s face, chocolate staining his chubby cheeks.

She had just graduated from high school and her mother wasn’t there. She hadn’t been there when she got her first period, during her first heartbreak, or when she won a spelling bee at age seven. She wouldn’t be there when she graduated college, when she got her first job, when she got married to the boy who was holding onto her leg with worried eyes. She would never be there, not today, not tomorrow, not ever. It was always going to be just them.

“Honey, are you okay?” James asked, leaning forward.

“I-I’m sorry,” she managed to get out before she stood up and bolted outside and into the parking lot, her chair scraping against the floor in her haste to get out of the diner.

“I’ve got it, sir,” Eddie said before he sped after her, his chains rattling with every long step he took to catch up with her.

In silence, James and Wayne watched their kids through the huge windows next to their table. When Dottie saw Eddie running behind her, she turned her back on him, hugging herself as she tried to keep her emotions together. She lifted a hand to wave at him over her shoulder and said something - probably that she was okay, that she didn’t need help so he should go back in - but as he came closer, it was evident that the storm that had been brewing inside her all morning was on the brink of overtaking her. All it took was feeling his hand hovering on her shoulder for her knees to buckle as she folded onto herself, Eddie instantly rushing forward to catch her and pulling her into his chest, her back rising up and down violently as she sobbed into his graduation gown. He chewed on his lower lip as he held himself together, never one to cry in public where people could see him and judge him for it. He muttered something into her hair, his chin resting onto the crown of her head, gently rocking her side to side as her sobs subsided.

“She was really lonely until we came here, y’know,” James said, breaking the quiet that had fallen on their table. Wayne could only look at his nephew, the gentleness he’d always known he’d possessed perfectly on display. “All her new friends are great to her but Eddie… you’ve got a good boy there, Wayne.”

“They’re both good kids,” Wayne said, matter-of-factly. “It’s a damn shame they’re so young and been through so much already.”

“Yeah, it is.”

In the parking lot, unaware that they were being watched, Dottie lifted her head from Eddie’s chest, an embarrassed smile on her lips as she fanned her face with her hands in an attempt to dry her tears without ruining what was left of her mascara. Eddie, still holding onto her, blew on her cheeks; she laughed, heart feeling equally heavy and light at the same time. There was joy and levity to be found in shared grief, that was something new she had learned from him.

“Sometimes I feel like Eddie understands her better than I do,” James admitted, fingers toying with his wedding band.

“They understand each other in ways that you and I never will,” Wayne mused. “That ain’t a bad thing. Actually, I think it might be healthy.”

“Mhm,” James agreed, half lost in his own thoughts.

Dottie squeezed Eddie one last time like she was mentally preparing herself, gathering strength for whatever came next, and nodded once to let him know that it was okay to let her go. Eddie followed her inside quietly, holding the door open for her as they filed in and sat once again at their table. They both looked very tired, and perhaps even a little bit flustered at having to face their guardians after bolting out of the diner so unexpectedly. Dottie leaned forward to grab a napkin to blow her nose.

“M’sorry,” she said, eyes low. James grabbed her hand gently.

“You okay, honey?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. S’just a lot, you know?”

“I know,” her Dad said, watching her glance at Eddie next to her.

“Can I… is it okay if Eddie and I go to the lake after lunch?” she asked, shy. “We want to burn some cards.”

“Yeah, of course,” James said, knot tightening at the base of his throat and fingers tangling with his daughter’s.

Eddie was silent through the entire interaction, hands hellbent on shredding the paper napkin in front of him to minuscule pieces. Wayne could feel their table shake as he bounced his leg frantically, something he had long understood as his nephew’s tell when holding back tears. The waitress, unaware of what had just transpired, came back at that moment with their drinks and two milkshakes for the teens. Dottie smiled at them with wet eyes, and Eddie had the indecency to look sheepish: she hadn’t mentioned to him she wanted one, but he knew she loved strawberry milkshakes from this specific diner because they made them with real strawberry ice cream and not the powder. He must have ordered them when she blanked out. The simple gesture felt like balm for her anguished soul.

“Well, I’d like to propose a toast,” Wayne said, dissipating the remaining uncomfortable tension at their table. “To the Class of ‘86.”

“To the Class of ‘86,” James joined him, clicking their bottles of Coke together in the air.

Food arrived shortly after, and as an easy conversation sanded whatever edges were still sharp for the moment, Wayne observed the tender behavior of the kids sitting in front of him. It wasn’t as playful as it had been before, no, this felt much more… intimate. Considerate. Muted, yet still softhearted. Not missing a beat in the story she was telling to her Dad, Dottie grabbed the cherry on top of her milkshake and left it on top of Eddie’s. He gave her a toothy grin before popping it into his mouth, and she shook her head at him fondly. Yeah, this ain’t a bad thing at all, thought Wayne, taking a bite out of his food and laughing along with James at the ridiculous gossip Dottie and Eddie were sharing about their now former classmates.

“Okay, hold on a second before you run off,” Wayne said, as his nephew ushered his friend towards his van.

After lunch was done, it was decided that Wayne would drive Eddie and Dottie back to their trailer so they could get Eddie’s van and head to the lake for what they were calling The Card Ritual. The eldest Munson didn’t really understand what it meant, but it seemed that James knew what they were talking about so he didn’t ask too many questions about it - all he knew was that the kids were going to buy some cards at Melvald’s and then burn them, and that Dottie was emotional over the whole thing. If burning some paper brought peace to her heart, then who was Wayne to judge? He’d indulged in far more destructive coping mechanisms throughout his youth, evidenced by his unshakeable smoking habit.

After they’d said goodbye to James, they climbed into Wayne’s truck and headed to Forest Hills, graduation caps, gowns, and his suit jacket now discarded into the backseat. The heat kept rising in the early afternoon and Wayne just wanted to get out of his clothes, drink a glass of icy cold water, and take a nap in his undergarments next to his trusty fan, but he felt like there was a pressing conversation to be had before he went in and could finally relax on his day off.

“What’s up?” Eddie asked, Dottie coming to a stop next to him.

“I just gotta know, kid,” Wayne turned to her. “Does your Dad know about you two or do I have to play dumb with him?”

“W-what? What do you mean?” she asked, nervously.

“I may not be young, but I ain’t blind, sweetheart,” he smiled. “You’re not in trouble, I just wanna know how to act around your old man, that’s all.”

“He doesn’t know,” Eddie muttered, grabbing Dottie’s hand and surprising her with how quickly he confessed. “No one knows, we haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Except Chrissy,” Dottie said.

“Except Chrissy,” he conceded. “She knows because I asked her for advice, but she’s the only one.”

“How long?”

“Huh?”

“How long has this been going on?” Wayne asked, pulling his lighter out of his pocket.

“Uh, like two weeks? We’re not, like- we’re not official yet,” Eddie scratched his neck uncomfortably.

“Not offi- Edward,” his Uncle hardened his stare. “I taught you better than that.”

“Shit, I swear I was gonna do it today! Wanted to wait until after graduation, I’m not trying to be a flake-”

“It’s okay! We talked about it,” Dottie said, hanging onto his arm. “I don’t mind waiting, we just thought it’d be best to keep it a secret for now,” Wayne turned to look at her, wary. “Mr. Wayne, please, I’d announce it at the next Town Hall meeting if he’d let me.”

“We share all the same friends,” Eddie explained. “They’ll wanna know all the details, and I just- she breaks up with me and I’m the biggest loser in Hawkins, you know how those assholes are.”

“Oh my god, stop calling yourself a loser!” she whined.

“Don’t break up with me, and I won’t be!” he argued back, but it was clear he was being silly about it.

“Okay, so what’s the situation here? You two dating or not?” Wayne asked, getting back on topic.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, smiling down at her with hearts in his eyes. “We’re dating. I was gonna ask her to be my girlfriend officially later today but I might as well do it now since you’re so nosy.”

“It’s not like anything’s changing anyways,” Dottie said. “We just didn’t put a label on it, but I’ve kinda been his girlfriend since that party we went to a couple of weeks ago.”

“Hell yeah you are. And I’m your boyfriend, right?”

“No, you’re my private driver,” she deadpanned. “Of course you are, Eddie, what kind of question is that?”

“Just making sure, darling,” Eddie said, and Wayne snorted at how smug his nephew looked.

“Well, then… you two can go now, I guess. I’ll keep the secret.”

“Thanks, Mr. Wayne,” Dottie said, coming to hug him. “We’ll tell people soon, we just want a little bit of privacy for now. The guys can be so nosy sometimes.”

“Don’t I know that, kid,” he chuckled. “I’m real happy for you two.”

“I’m really happy too,” she whispered to him, a bashful smile on her face.

Eddie finally let her into his van, her white sundress and summery sandals a stark contrast against his ripped jeans and chains. They were an odd couple if one only looked at their clothes, but it was so clear that they vibrated at the same frequency that Wayne couldn’t help but think that he should have expected this development sooner. He didn’t know why he’d chosen to believe them when they’d said nothing had happened between them the night of the party. His nephew went towards the driver’s seat when he called to him again.

“Ed, a word,” he was dead serious as Eddie jogged to where he was standing.

“Yeah?”

“You treat that girl right, okay?” Wayne said, voice low so she wouldn’t hear from the van. “I don’t wanna hear shit from her Dad about you bein’ stupid with her.”

“I know.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not gonna fuck this up, Wayne. I love her,” Eddie told him, so sure of what he was saying that it knocked the wind out of his Uncle’s lungs for a bit.

“Love, huh?” Wayne laughed softly, and Eddie shrugged with red ears but looked so very happy. “Go, have fun. And take care of her.”

“I will,” he nodded.

“I’m proud of you, son,” Wayne said, ruffling his hair roughly like when he was just a boy barely taller than his own hip. “And your Momma would be too.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, eyes full of unshed tears. “I’m proud of me too.”

taglist: @munsonology @kurdtbean @every1lovesanunderdog @eg-dr3amer3

[suffersinfandom]

A Summary of The OFMD Meta

Sooooo... this is part one of an incomplete summary of A Meta-Discussion Of The Subtext by meratrishoslee (Mera) on AO3 (linked to, as the author requests). I hope it’s helpful to the folks who’ve been curious about it -- heyooo @fahbee and @pushbuttonkitty -- but maybe not quite 90K-words curious! I’m not going to comment on anything; this is meant to be an impartial -as-possible summary.

It's massively long, so this is just the first eight chapters.  

“There’s every possibility you are still in your feelings as you read this, even weeks after the finale. You are in your autonomous knee-jerk reaction, adrenaline-spike, slapped across the face, feeling-so-betrayed-right-now moment. You’re valid. That’s absolutely what’s happened… on the surface. But as you take a deep breath and begin to examine logically what’s in the show and engage with the material both in its text and subtext, you will see a new concept begin to take shape.” (Mera)

Chapter 1: Overview

Some background: Mera was involved with The Johnlock Conspiracy and believes that TJLCers weren’t wrong. (If you want a fun watch, I recommend Sarah Z’s YouTube video.) Essentially, TJLCers believe that Sherlock and Watson of BBC’s Sherlock were supposed to be endgame, and this can be proved with careful analysis. This is often paired with the idea that there is a missing fourth episode to the show’s fourth season that will eventually air and confirm all theories.

Mera defines ‘text’ and ‘subtext.’ Text is “dialogue lines / Shot choices and directions / Visible actions, describable as stage directions.” Subtext is “every single other thing, as well as what is suggested by or can be inferred from the text above.”

“Whenever something doesn’t make sense in the text, it is a BEACON (or maybe even a LIGHTHOUSE) to look at the subtext. Your subconscious mind recognizes subtext long before your conscious mind parses it -- assuming it ever does.”

The rest of the chapter is devoted to short descriptions of Mera’s key assertions with links to relevant chapters and their convention experiences. They cite talking to Con O’Neill at Florida Supercon 2023 as one of their reasons for believing so strongly that Izzy Hands is alive:

I asked him for advice in a specific time of trouble, and he gave me something real that had worked for him. I asked for a hug and he gave that also. 

As I was pulling away I said "I’m glad that I gleaned one absolutely true thing from your portrayal of Izzy." 

“What’s that?” 

I said: "The character (in my original work) that Izzy inspired – when he’s out of pain at last, it’s impossible not to love him." 

That seemed to hit him on an emotional level; he couldn’t hold my gaze after that.  He said “That’s what I’ll be taking with me today.” 

This was July 1st 2023, after completion of the filming of Season 2.  I've thought about it often as the season went on, and how it must have affected him. 

We have to love Izzy so that he'll live.

Mera spoke to Con again at NYCC:

The last thing I managed to get to say to him was: "They gave Izzy Hands a Passion Play." 

"They did?" he asked. 

"Yes, they did!" I replied. 

And I watched that brilliantly swift mind again at work, because he considered it for the briefest beat -- and said in a tone of joy: "They did; yeah, you're right!" 

I remember for the minutes and hours after I was amazed: did he not know, somehow? Did the writers not tell him (and he didn't realize at any time since) that in first quarter of the series they'd given him Gethsemane, a betrayal, a crucifixion (okay, getting shot in the leg and head, but don't get stuck on the details), a burial, and then a full on canonical resurrection?

Con then said another very important thing:

"But I got over it." 

[...]

If Izzy's dead (for real and forever dead) and he knew it, then what he said to me was on a level of cruelty that I could never countenance from him. If Izzy lives, then those words are yet another piece of proof to me that Con was clever enough to be right both for someone who'd only seen five episodes, and someone who would eventually see all eight. 

Chapter 2: The Cup and Ball Trick

The chapter is an extended “game” of cup and ball (where a ball is hidden under a cup and the guesser needs to determine which cup it’s under) interspersed with pictures from OFMD at various points in season two. It ends on a shot of Izzy’s grave where his body definitely isn’t.

The important takeaway: Izzy returns from the dead once to shoot Ed during Ed’s final suicide attempt. Ed returns from the dead after the near-fatal mutiny. Why would you think Izzy’s actually dead and in his grave at the end of the show?

“I didn't cry at the finale -- I was too filled with joy and excitement. I was Mary Magdalene at the grave; I was one of the first to know the truth of the resurrection, whether or not anyone believed me!” 

Chapter 3: OUR LOVE MEANT DEATH

"..because if [Izzy] doesn't [live], with what I know now, his death is a cruelty struck at every queer individual alive or dead since 1981.”

Mera observes that almost no one touches Izzy’s bare skin and Izzy bleeds more than any other recurring character.

There are two times someone touches Izzy’s bare skin: first when his screams are being muffled when he yells at Jim and Archie to kill him, second when Ed puts the gun in Izzy’s ungloved hand during his first go at suicide.

Conclusion: "Izzy is coded with AIDS.”

Ed holding his bloody hand up to the rest of the crew away when Izzy is dying is a “warding-off gesture.” 

Izzy is pale and sickly-looking as he’s dying. “My gorge rises. In the year of our Lord Shiva 2023 -- THEY GAVE THE MOST QUEER CODED CHARACTER ON THE SHOW A FUCKING AIDS DEATH.”

Izzy touches someone else’s bare skin twice in the show, and both instances are Ed. The first is in S1E10 “where he puts his left Death-marked hand on Edward's wrist as he's choking him.” The second is in S2E8 as he’s dying “in his ex-lover’s arms” (notably, this is the same hand with the spade tattoo).

“If Izzy's well and truly dead, for real and stays dead... He is in media both the first historically and the most recent chronologically to receive a full on AIDS death.”

“Until they prove to me and all of us that only Izzy's grief and the specter of AIDS remains in the grave -- and the rest of our beloved boy, our new unicorn (oh hey do you know what Problematic Modern Culture says about unicorn blood?), our pure-hearted risen being, our self-sacrificing queer man, will get his chance to be touched, held, kissed, and LOVED in Season 3.”

Chapter 4: “The Third Was For Death”

“Season 1 was Pinocchio: a wooden puppet wants to become a real boy -- and does!  Hip hip hooray; that was pretty easy.  Wow, the cute tall young guy of the crew lost a finger and the mean nasty short grouch that some people hate and some people like (because they understand him on a visceral, subconscious, subtextual level) lost a toe -- but if that's the worst that happens, we came out okay!”

Season two is “The Monkey’s Paw.” Mera tells the story with pictures from OFMD to emphasize the connections. Importantly, there’s an instance of a couple’s son coming back wrong after a wish (Lucius). The final wish returns the son to his previously-dead state and Mera ends on a picture of Izzy’s grave.

The cast’s and crews’ interviews might not support the real narrative because they’re not allowed to say what they want to (“Ever had to develop code language to hide your queerness from your parents, your teachers, the state?”) They’re all “in distress” and trying to tell us without telling us. 

“Why does the new (old broken down) house smell like death? Why does everything we wished for that we got feel bad? Why does everything we're supposed to be happy about feel sad? How long would it take YOU to spot someone blinking out the word T-O-R-T-U-R-E?”

Mera hopes that the next season won’t tell us certain a new story: George Orwell’s 1984.

Chapter 5: Where Were We? Oh Yes, In The Pit Of Despair

This chapter is about The Princess Bride as it relates to Izzy’s story in seasons two and three of OFMD. It’s a comparison based mostly on costumes and lines; there are no one-for-one character comparisons. Vitally, the plot of TPB is used to predict the next season of OFMD. 

Season two of OFMD ends at the part of TPB when Westley is thought to be dead (Izzy in his grave). Westley is revived, soooo…

“At what point does a preponderance of evidence flip over into fact? At what point does a handful of chance coincidences become planning and architecture? At what point do you go beyond a reasonable doubt into conviction?”

Chapter 6: Birdman and Blackbeard: Or, How To Watch Media

This chapter is about analyzing media. Once you learn how, you stop being a passive watcher.

“Instead you read its rhymes and rhythms like a sonnet. You go to the media in return – you meet it halfway, like a lover. You engage with it. You find themes embedded in the subtext that, once unearthed and examined, continue to inform and expand your experience of the text.”

“The people that like things nice and easy are the ones that watched the finale of Season 2, got angry and upset and – instead of examining those feelings and sitting with them and figuring out why everything felt weird and fucky – wrote it off as bad writing and cruel showrunners, and are already onto the next piece of media to pour into their open eyes and ears.”

And that’s fine! But if you like to think, you interrogate the media and see what else it’s saying.

Mera summarizes The Hero’s Journey through the lens of Orpheus’ story.

Season two mirrors season one almost too well. “...Why are they recreating their first season almost beat by beat? Why is this “second verse, same as the first – only a little bit louder and (in many cases) worse? Then Episode 8 hit… and I realized. They wanted to make sure that, in every conceivable way, the fans had a subtextual map of the meaning of Episode 8. So the mirrors between seasons had to line up almost exactly.”

Now we go into the three-act structure and how the hero’s journey maps onto it. Mera then uses Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue Of Ignorance) and to show how they personally analyze meta, but I don’t care nearly enough about what they’ve gleaned from Birdman to go into it here. You’ll have to go read it yourself if you want their methods.

“Remember: Everything on screen in the finished and published movie is a choice. If something doesn’t make sense on a textual level, it is often a signpost (or LIGHTHOUSE) to look at it on a subtextual level.”

Mera points to an article about three-act structure and notes that “fun and games” is both part of that author’s second act and the title of an OFMD episode. 

“Are we being fucked with? Or are we being instructed?”

Chapter 7: If You Strip Away The Myth From The Man

It’s the Jesus Christ Superstar chapter and it’s massive. I’m only including the most substantial comparisons and points.

Mera starts by linking to a gifset of Con talking about Taika saying that Izzy and Blackbeard are comparable to Judas and Jesus (and then Taika and Con sang songs from JCS while getting their makeup done). Notably, Con didn’t specify which character was which.

Blackbeard is a myth created by (of) two men, Ed and Izzy. “there's always two male bodies involved: Jesus and Judas, and both sacrifice themselves to the cause.”

It’s easy to say that Izzy is Judas, but wait -- there’s a better and deeper interpretation! Look at this picture from S1 that resembles the Last Supper and frames Izzy as Jesus! “Now I finally understood. Sure: Izzy is Judas-coded. That's plain for anyone to see. But Izzy is also Jesus-coded… from the under/reverse side.”

Izzy is Jesus-coded for all of season one (even more than Ed), and the comparison is solidified by the end of S2E3: “Izzy Hands is almost fully and directly Jesus-coded, and after Ed's own resurrection (not as an agape-love self-sacrifice for the saving of others, but through selfish personal/eros love alone) Edward is now obviously the betrayer of the whole crew who is permitted to stay aboard only on terms of sackcloth clothing and uneasy tolerance.”

Judas died by hanging himself according to the Gospel of Matthew. The only characters we see hanging are Ed and Stede, which clearly aligns them with Judas. 

Izzy is a good person. He cares about the crew; Ed never does. When Izzy’s wrong, he fesses up to it and apologies; Ed does not (or when he does, the apologies are bad). “Does he lie?  Yes, ostensibly to protect his captain and crew. Is he fairly mean to the Revenge crew until they [...] become his crew? Pretty much, although I could argue otherwise in places -- especially the fact that while Ed throws Lucius violently and bodily off the ship without any warning, Izzy carefully puts the crew on a safe island with a minor fuckery of his own to keep them calm and happy until he leaves. (It's obviously not Edward's idea, although he does permit Izzy to put himself between the deadly Kraken and the Revenge's crew in order to accomplish it.) Is he selfish? Yes, and who of us aren’t sometimes selfish about the people we love?”

Jesus and Judas have massive amounts of sexual tension (yeah, can confirm). Izzy is Jesus-coded because, while he doesn’t initiate contact like Jesus does in JCS, he’s always looking directly at Ed. Ed is Judas-coded because he has a hard time looking at Izzy and finds it difficult to touch him.

“...If Izzy Hands is a queer man who is Jesus-coded, who we see go through not one but TWO passion plays during Season 2... [near-death after having his leg removed, end-of-season death] he is conquering the death of HIV/AIDS and queer grief. He has to die so that he can vanquish that very real death, and arise again triumphant over it.”

“One direct correspondence with Jesus is that Izzy is convinced of one right way to be (whether or not it actually is), and everything outside of that offends him viscerally at this point in the series.” Izzy is convinced that there’s one right way to be a pirate, and Stede’s fucking that up.

And back to AIDS/reverse-Jesus Izzy: “Now among the lepers we're back to the reversal: no one touches Izzy. He’s desperate for it yet can never allow it. Jesus’s touch, kiss, love cures – and everyone seeks it and craves it. They demand it, they swamp and overwhelm him. Jesus's naked touch/kiss/love cures disease -- Izzy's carries and spreads it.”

“Judas/Edward makes his deal with the priesthood/King George to betray Jesus/Izzy – his price is 30 pieces of silver/Stede’s life.” That is, Ed is the one doing the betraying in season one. 

But the real betrayal happens when he cuts off Izzy’s toe and feeds it to him while he’s vulnerable. Important note for the AIDS stuff: “...Edward puts on leather gauntlets immediately prior to this assault -- he ‘gloves up.’ He doesn't have direct naked contact with Izzy's blood or flesh during this scene.” The toe-feeding scene is absolutely framed as sexual assault.

And the toe thing continues into season two. “Sit with that also for a moment: the faux consent of making Izzy remove his own clothing to bare his body parts for this violation. Is it too far a stretch to think that Ed also made him eat each one, in their own private, gristly sacrament? He did threaten to ‘feed him the rest’ after all.”

Here is the outline of Izzy’s first “passion play”:

Izzy's Last Supper: all the toes eaten before as well as the one threatened now. 

Izzy's Gethsemane, wherein he begs his God for the cup to be removed: he tries to bargain his and the crew's way out with his conversation with Blackbeard, to find an alternative to the self-destructive violence. 

Izzy is betrayed by his Judas (again): shot in the leg for the 'crime' of mentioning Stede Bonnet's name, or Blackbeard's affection toward him. 

Izzy descends into the grave: lays in a secret tunnel in what we can believe is the lowest part of the ship, while rotting enough to be smelled throughout.

 Izzy dies: he shoots himself in the head and both we and Blackbeard believe him to be dead.

Izzy is risen: he hauls himself up out of his own grave without assistance from anyone else, crawls to the main deck, reloads his pistol somewhere along the way -- and shows himself to his followers crew at last, in order to bring about their salvation.

Con himself said that this is a passion play, and it takes up a massive chunk of the first part of the season. You don’t throw something massive like that into a show unless you’ve got something bigger coming.

But Judas dies before OFMD ends (mapping OFMD onto JCS), so now who is Ed? He’s Pontius Pilate. There’s the whipping of Jesus (Izzy’s back scars), then Pilate kneels down to hold the bleeding Jesus in his arms. It’s this specific Pieta statue.

“Izzy has to die to conquer his own living death, to end the curse that has kept him untouchable and unable to be loved as he so desperately desires.” There’s the crucifixion for you. Izzy dies and is buried, and we’re still waiting on the resurrection. 

The last shot in JCS is of the empty cross; the last shot of OFMD S2 is Izzy’s grave. “If the cross in the last and arguably the most significant shot of JCS symbolizes the triumph of resurrection and rebirth... the one in OFMD S2 must also.”

Alex Sherman liked one of Mera’s Izzy Lives tweets that he was tagged in. 

Chapter 8: The Dual Substance Of Christ

Now we’re looking at The Last Temptation of Christ. This is another long and involved one, so I’m cutting a lot of minor things that don’t serve the overall meta. (I also know fuck-all about this movie, oops.)

“An argument can be made (and I will attempt it) that Judas in this instance is not only the show creators/writers room of OFMD who had to put their much beloved boy Izzy Hands through all this agony... but also we the Unseen Crew who adore him, who have suffered alongside him through all he's endured, and who want nothing more than to have him back and whole in resurrected triumph.”

TLTC presents another reason to identify Lucius with Mary Magdalene (and notably, Jesus can’t touch Mary -- because Izzy is AIDS-coded). Once again, there’s an immense amount of sexual tension between Jesus and Judas.

This Jesus is angry and this God is fearsome. Judas does a lot of slamming-Jesus-into-walls, much like Ed and Izzy in S1E10. 

Jesus confirms that he is a heart and he loves, which solidifies Izzy’s position as the heart of Blackbeard. 

In his final trial in the desert, Jesus’ final tempter appears as flames. Izzy and Ed both play with flames when they lie.

“Izzy is pretty much Jesus-coded as I explained in the JCS meta… but here also due to the timing and content of this scene, Izzy’s also Lazarus-coded.He dies, he goes into the pit of the grave, he smells of rot, then he is raised from the dead.” Lazarus and Izzy both have a rough time of being alive again and drink about it. 

Jesus says “I have to die on the cross, and I have to die willingly.” This parallels Izzy saying that he wants to go when he’s dying. Judas doesn’t want Jesus to die, which puts him more in line with Jenkins and company than any characters.

“But Izzy has to die, in order to conquer death. He’s lived with the specter of HIV/AIDS that has separated him from loving touch and the sharing of physical intimacy. He has to go into the grave to leave his disease and his queer grief behind, and to be reborn to love.”

On the cross, Jesus says, “Father, stay with me. Don’t leave me.” As he’s dying, Izzy tells Ed, “Sit with me, Eddie.” 

“I feel sick, and I think I’m supposed to. It’s supposed to hurt. Both Izzy's death and Jesus's crucifixion are supposed to be two of the realest and most awful and most beautiful things I’ve ever seen on television.”

In TLTJ, there’s an extended part of the movie where Jesus is in a kind of gravy basket. The events are all kind of odd. They involve Jesus sleeping with Mary (the reborn unicorn, free of AIDS and safe to touch). Jesus returns to his body, suffers, and dies.

TLTJ doesn’t cover Jesus’ resurrection. “We have to trust what we know of the story: that Jesus is risen, and only death itself remains in his grave.”

--

On to the next!