#a little rusty here but we are getting into the swing of things once more c:

[pedrospatch]

call it what it is

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: A disagreement over patrol duty leads to declarations that have been long overdue.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. established relationship. HEFTY AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and joel is 56). ellie and joel are fine bc i said so and they deserve nothing less. reader handles a rifle, joel’s a little too overprotective and almost seems controlling, but i promise he is not. well, maybe just a smidge. arguing, admission of feelings, joel miller says i love you (yes this is ooc, no i do not care bc i need this old man to tell me he loves me). angst, fluff. quite a bit of side character interaction before we get to joel and reader in the second half. the only physical description of reader is that she is shorter than joel. fair warning, i am quite rusty.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: hi hello. i have not shared a wip in over 2 months. i was going back and forth on whether or not i wanted to share a fic with so much going on but decided i wanted to get back to doing what i enjoy. that and ofc that new footage was a boost of inspo. i am sending so, so much love to anyone who happens to see this author note, whether you read this fic or just happen to see this note in passing whilst scrolling. i know things have been tough, but i am here with you. <3

Joel wakes with a gentle start. Yawning, he rolls over from his side onto his back, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as warm, golden sunlight filters into the bedroom through the sheer, white linen curtains drawn over the window. He stares up at the ceiling, his breathing slow, steady, and even. He’s still getting used to it, it seems. Waking this calmly, with a tranquil peace he had been so certain he would never in his life feel again. He knew it couldn’t be a mere coincidence the nightmares had all but stopped tormenting him in his sleep when the two of you stopped doing that awkward little tap dance around one another and began sharing a bed, a home, a life.

No more bolting upright in sheer panic in the middle of the night, heart pounding and drenched head to toe in a cold sweat. No more believing he’s failing in his sleep. No more waking up feeling like he’s lost something.

Even his dreams about Sarah had become so, so much more pleasant. Images of her in that field on that night were replaced by different memories, like watching her teammates dogpile her after she’d scored the winning goal in their soccer tournament, or the big, triumphant grin she’d flashed him over her chocolate milkshake as the pair sat in their usual corner booth at their favorite fifties-themed diner in Austin—much to Joel’s surprise, Sarah had politely declined her teammates’ invitation for pizza once the match ended, choosing to celebrate her victory with him. Just the two of them.

“Y’sure you don’t wanna go with your friends, kiddo?” he’d asked, raising an eyebrow. He had been certain she was approaching the age where she would start spending less and less time with her old man. “I wouldn’t mind, y’know.”

“Positive,” she had reassured him with a smile, looping her arm through his and leading him off the pitch. “I’d much rather be with you, dad.”

Rather than smelling metallic in his slumber, he smells the grass that stained her white and blue striped jersey. Her cheeks are smeared with dirt, not with crimson.

Stifling another loud yawn, Joel stretches his arm out over towards your side of the bed, his calloused fingers seeking the warmth and softness of your naked body—instead, all they find are empty sheets, cold and long abandoned. He turns his head, and as suspected, you are not laying there beside him. That’s hardly out of the ordinary. Out of the two of you, you were the early riser, up before the neighbors’ rooster even had the chance to sound the alarm. Joel knows how much you treasure your quiet mornings lounging on the porch swing he’d built for you as you watched the sunrise with a hot cup of coffee in hand. He often made a genuine effort to get up and join you, but lately, his patrol rotations had been all over the place thanks to a shortage of patrolmen. He found himself sleeping in whenever he had the chance, seeing as he never knew when he might have to work a damn double. Or maybe it was just his age catching up with him.

He checks the time and then rolls out of bed, groaning when his sore knees and his aching lower back protest his movement.

After taking a quick shower using whatever hot water the kid had left for him after her own shower—much to his annoyance, it was not very much—Joel brushes his teeth and gets dressed for the day before pulling on his boots and heading downstairs into the kitchen where he finds the culprit responsible for the cold downpour he’d been forced to wash himself under. Ellie’s sitting at the table, absentmindedly stirring her oatmeal around her bowl with her spoon as she flips through one of her comic books. Just as he’s about to greet her, he spots the clean, empty coffee pot on the kitchen counter and frowns. You hadn’t even made coffee yet?

Now, that—that is out of the ordinary.

“Where is she?” he asks.

“Well, good morning to you too, old man. Oh, I slept great, thanks for asking,” Ellie quips without looking up at him as she flips the page. She mumbles something under her breath he doesn’t quite catch, something like, and you get on my ass about my manners?

Rolling his eyes, Joel snorts in response and pads over to the coffee maker on the counter. He spoons in some of the grounds he’d traded for earlier that week into the reusable filter, pours in water from the tap, and turns it on to brew. He grabs two ceramic mugs from the wire dish rack beside the sink and sets them down on the counter. “She out back?” he questions, yanking the refrigerator door open—he tries to remember the little things, like how you enjoyed your coffee with a bit of milk as well as a dash of cinnamon, if you had the rations, or something to trade for the precious spice. He always made sure that you did.

“Nope.” Ellie shovels a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth and adds thickly, “She went to get some eggs.”

Joel shoots her a look of disgust over his shoulder. “Jesus, Ellie! How many times do I gotta tell you? Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s bad manners,” he scolds her, shaking his head. He turns his attention back to the refrigerator. As he reaches for the glass bottle of milk, he pauses and his eyebrows pull together in confusion when he sees the wicker basket on the top shelf. “Wait a minute.” He feels her stiffen in her chair. “Why the hell would she go get eggs when we’ve got a full basket of ‘em right here in the fridge?”

She clears her throat. “Oh, uh, my bad. I got confused. Think she said she was gonna go get more honey? Uh, I used the last of it to make my breakfast this morning and she, uh—she wanted some for her toast. You know, ‘cause she really likes putting honey on her toast,” she rambles before piling more oatmeal into her mouth.

Closing the refrigerator door, he turns to her, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as uneasiness settles deep in the pit of his stomach. “Ellie?”

There’s a momentary pause. “...yeah?”

This time, Joel doesn’t bother to chastise the teenager for talking with her mouth full. “Where is she?”

Ellie nervously swallows her food and holds up both of her hands. “Hey, I already fucking told you, man.”

“Look, I know you like the back of my own hand, kiddo. And I know damn good and well when you’re lying to me.” Joel crosses his arms over his chest. “Now tell me the truth. What do you know that I don’t?”

Groaning, Ellie sits back in her chair. “Ugh. She made me swear not to tell you! She’ll fucking strangle me if I do—”

“Yeah, well, not if I fuckin’ strangle you first myself,” he threatens her. “M’Serious, Ellie. Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

“Alright, alright! Jesus,” she huffs. “She’s with Tommy. He’s been taking her out of town to do target practice in the mornings, just the two of them. She usually gets back to the house before you get up,” she admits.

Joel’s arms fall back to his sides, his shoulders tense. “And how long has this been goin’ on?” he asks, rigidly. There’s a sudden tightness inside his chest, a feeling he hasn’t felt it in a while, but is still all too familiar to him.

After Tommy spread the word around town that more people were needed for patrol duties, you’d expressed an interest in the role, but Joel had been all too quick to shut you down, telling you he didn’t want you stepping foot outside the community’s gates.

“No,” he’d said. “Not happenin’. S’too dangerous.”

“But Joel—”

“I said,” he lowered his voice. “No.”

He hadn’t offered you an explanation as to why he was against it, refused to give you one good, solid reason as to why it was acceptable for him to risk his own life to protect Jackson, but it wasn’t acceptable for you to do the same.

Joel hadn’t known how to tell you the truth. How he needed you far, far more than you needed him, how the mere thought of losing you, the best fucking thing that could have possibly happened to him since the world ended, made him feel like his heart was going to stop.

A few weeks had passed since then, and thankfully, you never brought it up to him again. You had lost interest in patrol duty. Or so he’d thought.

“How long has this been going on?” he repeats after a minute.

“C’mon, man! Haven’t I already snitched enough?”

“Ellie,” Joel bites out her name. “Tell me. How long?”

She sighs in defeat. “Two weeks? Maybe three?” When she notices the muscle in his jaw tick, she grimaces. “You do realize why she didn’t fucking tell you, right?”

“Don’t,” he warns her, sharply.

“I’m just saying,” Ellie mutters, peering down into her bowl.

Without another word, Joel angrily storms past her and straight out the front door, snatching up his rifle on the way. He heads straight for the stables, trying to ignore the anxiety flaring inside of his chest.

Focus.

Now, breathe in. And breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe...

You exhale as you slowly squeeze the trigger.

Y’squeeze it like you love it, you had been told by your reluctant instructor.

The round fires off into the distance and you swiftly grab the bolt handle, bringing it up, back, forward, and then down again. You pull the trigger once more, then repeat and continue firing one shot after the other for a total of five rounds.

The rifle’s recoil nearly sends you flying backwards, but a strong hand on your back keeps you nice and steady. That same hand then moves to your shoulder and gives you three firm taps.

“Alright, alright! Christ,” Tommy laughs. He withdraws his arm from around you and shakes his head. “Fuckin’ calm down, Annie Oakley.”

Picking up his binoculars, he rises to his feet and looks through the lens at the makeshift targets that he’d set up for you, three empty soup cans lined up in a row on top of a wooden fence about twenty-five yards away—your longest shooting distance to date.

“Well?” You don’t even bother masking your impatience as you lower the rifle, carefully propping the weapon up against the tree stump you’re perched behind. Rubbing your sore shoulder, you hope the kickback won’t leave a bruise. You wouldn’t know how to explain that to Joel. “How did I do?”

His response comes in the form of a long, low whistle.

There is no telling if that had been good whistle, or if it had been a bad one. You groan. Now was not the time for him to dick around. “Please tell me I got at least one of them?”

“You got ‘em all, actually.” Tommy replies, lowering the binoculars and peering down at you. There’s a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “Good job, kid.”

Kid? Not exactly a nickname one wants to be called by the brother of the much, much older man that they are romantically involved with. It’d taken Tommy months to accept your relationship with Joel, especially when you moved your things out of your unit and into his over the summer. Part of you wonders if him referring to you as a kid is simply his own subtle way of telling you—no, of reminding you, that he’s still not comfortable with it.

And perhaps he never would be.

After all, you had still been a teenager when you first arrived to Jackson a few years ago, stumbling upon the town just a few months shy of the twentieth birthday you weren’t sure you would survive long enough to see.

You were indeed a kid when you’d met Tommy Miller.

Were.

Scowling up at him, you snap, “I told you to stop calling me that. I’m not nineteen anymore, Tommy.”

Having read your mind, he gives you a small smile and acknowledges, “Yeah, you’re right. You definitely ain’t a kid anymore.” He offers you his hand and hoists you up to your feet. Before dropping your hand, he gives it an apologetic squeeze.

You relax a little and smile back at him. “Did I really get all three?”

Tommy nods. “You sure did. You’re a damn good shot. I gotta be honest with you—I didn’t expect you to be this fuckin’ good,” he admits sheepishly.

Chuckling, you scoff, “Thanks. I think.”

“It’s a compliment, sugar.” He winks and flashes you a lopsided grin. “In fact, I’d say my work here is done.”

“Great! So when are you putting me on the roster?”

His grin instantly vanishes. “Uh, listen. About that....”

He trails off, and your heart sinks a little.

Tommy wouldn’t back out of this now—would he?

“Oh, no. Don’t you dare go back on your word, Miller,” you say, lightly poking him in the chest. “We had a deal. You said if I did well enough, you’d think about it.”

He nods in agreement. “Exactly. Said I’d think about it. And I think that puttin’ you on the roster for patrol ain’t a good idea.”

Your mouth falls open. If he never had any intention of holding up his end of the bargain, then what had been the point of teaching you how to shoot?

You didn’t understand.

“You just said it yourself, I’m a great shot! I’m a good on horseback, too. I’m stealthy. I’m diligent. What more do you fucking need from me, Tommy?”

Tommy’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “Joel would fuckin’ murder me with his bare hands if I even thought about puttin’ you on patrol duty. Hell, he’d murder me just knowin’ we’re out here and I’m teachin’ you how to shoot. It’s a damn fuckin’ miracle he still hasn’t caught onto this, y’know.”

Shocked, your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. “This is about Joel? Are you serious?”

“‘Course it is.” He pauses. “Listen, now I know the three of us had our—differences—when he first told me ‘bout you two. Still takin’ me a bit of gettin’ used to, but I can see he’s real serious about you. I know my brother, and I know he won’t risk losin’ what’s most important to him. Ain’t no way in hell. He doesn’t want you out here and you know that as well as I do.” Tommy shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging as he shuffles his weight from one cowboy boot to the other. “Unless he’s alright with it, I ain’t gonna put you on the roster.”

For a moment, you’re at a complete loss for words.

Upon seeing the crestfallen expression on your face, he makes a suggestion. “You can try talkin’ to him ‘bout it again if it means that much to you. Ask him—”

“Ask?” You want to laugh. You almost do. “I’m an adult, Tommy. I don’t need his permission to do this. Or to do anything for that matter. Joel doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

Tommy smiles wryly. “Well then, if that’s the case, why are we sneakin’ around and doin’ this behind his back?”

Your shoulders slump in defeat.

Because the ramifications could be disastrous.

Joel had made his stance on the matter abundantly clear, and yet here you were, deliberately disobeying him.

“Stumped you real good, didn’t I?”

Before you can even start to think about how you can possibly respond to that, you hear the sound of hooves in the dirt behind you, followed by whinny of a horse.

Tommy’s face pales as he glances over your shoulder.

“Shit.”

There’s no need for you to ask. His grimace says it all.

Somehow, you will yourself to turn around just as Joel’s steed comes to a halt beside the mare you and Tommy had ridden out on together. He jumps out of the saddle, grunting at the forceful impact on his knees when his feet hit the ground. His rifle hangs from a worn, brown leather strap slung across his back.

He approaches the two of you looking absolutely livid, and your throat goes dry.

“The hell is goin’ on here?” He breezes right past you, roughly shoving his brother with both hands. “Why the fuck would you bring her out here, Tommy? What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Joel, c’mon. Take it easy—”

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to take it easy!”

“Joel!” You reach for his arm. “Wait, it’s not his fault!”

Joel shoves him again, then takes him by the collar of his shirt and pins him against the ponderosa pine tree behind him. “You’ve been bringin’ her outside the gates behind my fuckin’ back for weeks, asshole?”

The panic begins to set in—he’s taking his anger out on the wrong person, and deep down, he knows this too.

“Joel! Stop! Let him go!” Grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, you try pulling him off of the younger man. “Stop it! It’s not his fault! I asked Tommy to bring me out here!”

He whirls around, his nostrils flared, jaw clenched.

You’ve seen this side of him a handful of times before.

But his anger has never been directed at you.

“What?”

Immediately, you let go of him and take a step back. “I asked Tommy to bring me out here and teach me how to shoot so that I can start working patrol,” you explain, hoping, praying, he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. “This was all my idea, okay? If you’re going to be mad at someone, then be mad at me. Not at him.”

“So you did this after I fuckin’ told you I didn’t want you out here?” Joel seethes. His neck becomes flushed, his tan skin now a deep shade of red.

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “I had to find out from Ellie? You tried to get her to fuckin’ lie to me? After all the work it took for me and her to—” Stopping mid sentence, he places his hands on his hips and shakes his head.

“Joel. Please.” Behind the anger in his dark brown eyes, you detect something else. A mingle of hurt, concern—fear?

Tommy awkwardly clears his throat. “Well I’m, uh—I’m gonna head back to town,” he says, touching a hand to the back of his neck. “I’ll let the two of you work things out in private.” As he passes Joel, he lightly claps him on the shoulder. “Girl’s a sharp shooter, big brother. I’d reckon she’s almost better than you.”

His effort to lighten the mood fails. Miserably.

Offering you a subtle nod of encouragement, Tommy hops into the saddle of his mare and takes off towards the commune.

Silence falls over the both of you. It feels suffocating.

Unfamiliar.

Finally, you speak. “Joel, please just hear me out—”

“What the hell were you thinkin’? Or were you just not thinkin’ at all?”

“I was thinking I want to pull my weight in Jackson.”

“You already have a fuckin’ job,” Joel reminds you.

“Making sandwiches and serving whiskey at The Tipsy Bison?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I am capable of more than that, Joel. So much more. Don’t you believe I’m capable of doing more?”

“I don’t want you out here,” he grits through his teeth. “Capable or not, I don’t want you outside Jackson’s walls. I don’t want you on patrol and that’s fuckin’ final. You understand me?” Now it’s him who falters, and you wonder if you’re imagining things, or if that’s really a tear you see sliding down the side of his face, disappearing into the salt and pepper scruff of his beard.

“That’s not your decision to make, Joel. It’s mine.”

“M’responsible for you. It’s my job to look after you—to protect you.”

Something about the way he is looking at you, it feels like a punch to the gut, and it’s at that precise moment when you begin to realize that he’s not angry. He’s afraid.

“Joel, I know that all you want to do is protect me,” you sigh, letting your arms fall down to your sides. “I know you do. But you’re doing me no favors by trying to keep me sheltered. By treating me like I’m defenseless. Don’t forget, I’m a survivor too.”

“You already know how fuckin’ dangerous it is out here. Clickers, raiders—”

“I can handle it,” you insist, stubbornly.

“You’d be puttin’ yourself right in harm’s way!”

You shoot back, “You mean, the way you and so many other people put yourselves in harm’s way every single day for the sake of keeping Jackson safe?”

A frustrated growl rumbles through his chest. “Christ, why are you bein’ so fuckin’ foolish? You’re just askin’ to get yourself killed!”

“I can take care of myself!” You realize your hands are shaking and curl them into tight fists at your sides in an effort to hide it. “Just accept it, Joel! Accept that I can take care of myself, alright?”

That is all it takes to tip Joel over the edge he’s been teetering on. “Then what do you fuckin’ need me for?” he shouts, his voice thundering over the quiet plains of Wyoming. “If you can take care of yourself, what’s the point in us bein’ together? Why are you with me?”

“Because I love you!”

As soon as the confession comes tumbling out of your mouth, you take a step back, your wide eyes meeting his own. Until now, neither of you have ever called this what it is, been bold enough to say it’s love.

Loving after so much grief, so much loss, is daunting. It’s something you thought you would never be capable of doing again, not in this lifetime. Not in this world. It’s happened, though.

You love Joel Miller.

And he loves you.

He’s never told you he does, but he’s shown you.

From the way remembers how you take your coffee in the mornings, to the way he laces his fingers with your own, holding your hand when he’s buried inside of you, whispering sweet nothings into your collarbone every single night.

“You—you what?” Joel’s whisper is hardly audible.

You inch your way closer to him, your voice soft. “I love you,” you declare once more. “I’m not with you because of what you can do for me. I’m not with you because you can take care of me.” Closer. “I’m with you because I love you—because I’m in love with you, Joel.” Closer, until your chest brushes against his, and he can smell the subtle scent of your homemade, rosewater soap. “The only thing I need, and have ever needed from you, is your love in return.”

His throat bobs. Before you can utter another word, he lifts his hands and gently takes your face, cradling it in between his large palms, gently. His eyes search yours, immediately finding the sincerity behind your words. Leaning down, he brushes the tip of nose against your own as one of his hands travels down, his long fingers curling around the nape of your neck. His thumb lightly strokes the column of your throat.

“I love you,” Joel says hoarsely. Three words he hadn’t said to anyone in over two decades—it feels foreign to him, they ring strange in his own ears. He tries it again, clearer this time, and with a little more confidence. After all, he’s only saying what he has known from the very start. “I love you.” His other hand moves to your hip, pulling you even closer to him. “M’gonna love you for the rest of my life, baby.”

He leans in further and presses his lips to yours lightly, at first, but he wastes no time in sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip, silently asking for more.

Your mouth parts for him, and he backs you against the ponderosa, kissing you deeply, greedily, like he’s a man starved.

You whimper into him, your hands sliding up his broad chest and past his shoulders until they’re tangled in his soft, graying curls. He breathes you in, like you are the oxygen he needs to stay alive.

It isn’t until you both hear the sound of rustling behind a nearby shrub that you’re forced to pull apart. “Don’t move,” Joel instructs in a hushed voice. He keeps you pinned against the tree, his hand abandoning your hip. He glances around, slowly reaching behind his back for his rifle. His tense shoulders relax when the both of you see a pair of rabbits dart out from one dried bush and straight into another. Exhaling an amused huff, Joel shifts his attention back to you and rests his forehead against yours.

Smiling, you reach up and softly graze his beard with your fingertips. “Guess it’s about time we called this what it is, huh?”

“Guess you’re right, darlin’.” He lifts his chin, brushing a kiss onto your forehead. “M’sorry for raisin’ my voice to you. For talkin’ to you the way I did. S’just, the thought of somethin’ happenin’ to you out here scares shit out of me.” Taking a step back, he pulls the strap of his rifle from around his shoulder. He chews the inside of his cheek and silently stares at the gun in his hands. After a minute, he meets your curious gaze. “Do you really wanna do this, sweet girl?”

You nod. “Yeah. I really do.”

Joel sighs. “Can I put a condition it?”

“Depends on what that condition is.”

“I’m your patrol partner. Every shift. Every rotation.”

You roll your eyes. “Joel.”

“At least for the first few weeks,” he bargains. “Last thing I need is for you to be paired up with some fuckin’ idiot who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doin’.”

Knowing that would be the only way he’d have some peace of mind, you decide to agree. “Fine. We’re patrol partners.”

“Alright then.” Joel nods and hands you the rifle. He flashes you a small grin. “Show me what you got, baby.”

divider credit to @/saradika 💛

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

[riverwritez]

movie night (with the boys).

a/n: hello! I’m river (or Lilly) and I’ve written like one thing on here and plan on writing more so! It’s nice to meet you all and I hope you enjoy this and what’s to come. Also be nice, I’m really rusty with writing.

warnings: fluff, I think that’s all.

edited: a little tiny bit

matt x fem!reader.

With the boys schedule being jam packed with various different meetings, events and video plans- you and Matt rarely found time to be together besides late at night when he came home, and early mornings when you woke up for work. Especially with Nate being in town, alone time was scarce.

But you and Matt finally found a sliver of time that you guys could have a small date at the house. Just a simple movie night with snacks, and neither of you complained, just wanting to be with the other for as long as they could.

“Ok, your pick tonight, what movie are we watching?” Matt asked as he jumped over the back of the couch and settled next to you, arm around your shoulders as you placed your head on his chest.

You tapped your chin as you thought for a moment, smiling as you looked up at the man next to you. “Tangled!”

Matt shook his head as he laughed. You always chose Tangled if the offer was on the table and he never complained, finding a sense of comfort from the movie ever since you two got together.

As Matt turned the movie on, and you both got comfortable with a bowl of popcorn next to Matt and various other snacks and drinks on the table, you both heard the front door swing open.

“No dude, you definitely cheated! I would’ve won both rounds if you didn’t do the stupid granny.” Chris complained as Nate and Nick followed behind him, scoffing and arguing back at the claim.

Matt groaned as he ran a hand down his face, annoyed at the intrusion and the fact that the group obviously didn’t listen to his pleads. “Oh my fucking- Can you guys be quiet or go somewhere else? I specifically told you guys to stay out so we could have a movie night!” Matt exclaimed as the three men stood in the living room, looking at the two of you together.

“Sorry, but we can’t bowl all night, plus Nick was bored so we just got a Uber back here.” Nate explained as he walked behind Matt and looked at the screen. “Ooh! You’re watching-“

“Tangled! Oh my god!” Chris said, rushing over to the other side of the couch, grabbing a blanket and getting comfy, already having his shoes off and eyes glued to the screen. You shook your head as you laughed at him, Nick soon invested as well as he sat down next to you and stole some of your blanket. Nate shook his head as he went to the fridge and got a Pepsi for himself and Chris.

“Ok, nice seeing you guys, now leave. This isn’t “date night plus the guys!”, this is date night with me and my beautiful girlfriend! Now fuck off!” Matt hissed out as Chris nodded along, yet not making eye contact once as for his eyes were still connected to the screen in front of him.

“But you have pizza! And plus i bet y/n doesn’t mind, right?” Nate asked after as he looked at you with wide eyes, full of hesitation and hope, slowly grabbing a piece of pizza from the box on the table.

Laughing at the situation, you shook your head as you leant into Matt’s embrace more. “The more the merrier!”

“Thank god, I’m already comfortable and I forgot how good this movie was.” Nick said as he leaned onto you for support as he grabbed chocolate that was already on the table.

Sighing, Matt buried his face into your neck, whining in annoyance as his brothers and best friend sat in the room, interrupting something he specifically told them not to.

“Love? what’s wrong?” You whispered at him, rubbing the back of his head as he nuzzled deeper into your neck and wrapped you up tighter in his embrace.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. It was supposed to be only us, but these idiots always need to be involved with whatever the others have going on.” Matt whispered to you, placing a gentle kiss on your jaw as you smiled down at him.

“It’s ok baby, I promise. As long as you’re here, I’m good. They’re fun to have around…. when their not being annoying-“

“I heard that!” Chris commented, his eyes never leaving the colorful screen as the animated movie continued.

“She isn’t wrong.” Nick added, offering you a piece of chocolate you politely declined.

Matt sighed once again, and took in the scene. His younger brother on the edge of his seat, intrigued with a movie he’s seen how many times with his best friend next to him. The oldest leaning against you as he snacked on chocolate and made little comments at how hot Flynn was, which made all of you roll your eyes at one point. And finally you, snuggled up under the blanket with him, drowning in his hoodie you had slipped on earlier while he held you tightly.

Sighing, Matt melted into the couch cushions and placed a kiss on your head, accepting what has become of the date he planned.

“I guess this isn’t too bad.”

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1

The walk passes slowly, as if the length of the tracks has more than doubled since the last time he was here. It seems longer than a couple of years ago, when Steve had strolled alongside him, talking about Farrah Fawcett spray. 

Dustin kind of feels like he’s following a breadcrumb trail that he can’t see—like his body already knows where to go before his mind does. 

He finds that the junkyard isn’t all that different; the only discernible difference is that the bus they once took refuge in is no longer there. It means that there’s more empty space, his eyes darting around until he lands on Steve, who’s sat with his back pressed up against the wheel of a rusty, broken down car—clearly not bothering to take shelter from the rain. 

The relief at the sight of Steve is short-lived; as he nears the car, Dustin starts to get a sinking feeling, like when he reads a detective story and the mystery is solved too soon—there’s too many pages left. 

So he doesn’t rush over, moves slow and steady, one step at a time. And he starts to notice…

Steve is dressed in a threadbare T-shirt, and his sweatpants look old and worn, a few inches too short around the ankles. As Dustin gets within touching distance, he realises that Steve must be wearing what he’d gone to sleep in last night.

“Steve?” Dustin says hesitantly.

Steve doesn’t respond, but his eyebrows furrow in a vague way, as if he’s heard Dustin, albeit distantly. His hair is damp from the mist and rain, his sneakers mud-stained. He doesn’t have socks on.

Dustin wonders how long he’s been out here.

“Hey,” he tries, crouches down in front of him. Slow and steady, he repeats inside his head. Like he’d been with Eddie in the boathouse.

He’s never seen Steve like this, but he knows that people can get stuck in places, like El in the lab and Will in The Upside Down—stuck in their head long after they’d physically left.

Dustin doesn’t know where Steve is stuck, exactly. Just knows he needs to bring him back. 

He clears his throat.

Steve’s eyes land on Dustin’s face—obliquely, but it’s enough to spur Dustin on.

“Remember the last time we were here?”

A pause. There’s a flicker of Steve in the slightest of wry smiles tugging at his mouth. “Your poor cat, dude.”

His voice is brittle, like each word is an effort.

Dustin smiles back. He thinks for a moment, then mimes swinging a bat, relieved when Steve’s eyes actually follow the movement.

“You were awesome.”

And it surprises him—not the sincerity, that’s a given, but the fact that he’s not said such a thing out loud for a while. Well, he reasons, at least not to Steve himself.

Pre-Vecna Eddie would roll his eyes any time the conversation circled back round to Dustin raving about Steve—but in the RV, as Steve swung them onto the open road, Eddie had turned to Dustin with the widest of grins. He furtively nodded towards Steve in the driver’s seat, then said with a breathless laugh, “You were right, man. Incredible.”

Steve makes a small sound that’s more of a gasp than a laugh. Shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m—” He swallows. “Don’t think I’m that guy anymore.”

What do you mean? Dustin thinks. I’m looking right at him.

But he doesn’t say it.

He doesn’t say it, because now he can see why each word Steve speaks seems to come at a cost. His chest is rising and falling erratically, his breathing quick and shallow.

And he’s shaking.

His hands are clenched into fists, knuckles turning white—like he’s focused so much on trying to keep still that it’s making him tremble anyway.

Slowly, slowly, Dustin moves the tiniest bit closer. His hand barely touches Steve’s before he draws back sharply, hitting his head against the body of the car.

“Sorry,” Dustin says quietly, raising his hands just a little, hopefully just enough for him to register as not being a threat.

He remembers Eddie in the boathouse again, when he’d sank down to the floor, the fight gone clean out of him—the danger of him hurting Steve having passed, but Dustin still being afraid that Eddie would accidentally cut himself with the glass bottle, his hands were shaking so much. 

“No, I’m—” Steve sighs, tips his head up with a shaky exhale. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s…” He looks at Dustin, finally meets his gaze properly. “I—I think.” Another sharp breath. “Dustin, I—I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“What? No, there’s—”

But Steve continues like he hasn’t even heard him. “No, no, there’s—like, something’s gone wrong, dude, really wrong. I-inside me. I’m fucked in the head.”

He grits his teeth.

And as Dustin scrambles for a response, Steve covers his face with his hands. His breathing shudders.

It takes a few seconds for Dustin to realise that Steve is crying—crying and trying to hide it, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes so fiercely that it must hurt, like he can somehow will away the tears.

“Steve,” Dustin says, and for a long moment feels completely useless. He’s never seen… he doesn’t know how the hell to approach this.

He’s used to Steve’s spiky brand of kindness, used to the eye rolls, the exasperated, “Dude, how many times, not on the inside,” when Dustin wipes his feet in his car, all the while insisting that he drive Dustin home whenever it rains.

But he doesn’t know what Steve needs from him.

Then Steve’s breathing starts to hitch, more than just the uneven rhythm of sobs; his hands fall away, and Dustin catches a flare of panic in his eyes.

It’s familiar. Makes him think of Will, how his eyes go wide sometimes, how Joyce will murmur, “Breathe with me, hon, it’ll pass. You’re okay.”

This time, when Dustin reaches for Steve’s hand, he doesn’t flinch. Instead Steve clings on, almost like it’s a reflex—like he’s at the edge of a cliff, and Dustin is pulling him back.

“Just breathe with me,” Dustin says. He over-exaggerates his breathing, takes Steve’s hand and places it over his chest so it can be felt.

“C-can’t,” Steve says.

This, at least, Dustin can work with.

“Okay, I know right now it feels like you can’t, but you totally can. Come on, would I lie to you?”

Steve shakes his head, manages a faint smile even as he wheezes—and Dustin is glad to know that even through Steve’s fear, their trust in one another remains a mutually understood thing.

“Look at my track record,” Dustin adds, “I’m always right.”

Steve catches his breath enough to chuckle, just for a split second. “Smart… ass.”

Dustin tsks. “Delirious. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

But what he means is I’m gonna sit with you for as long as you need.

He doesn’t know how long it takes, realises too late that he’d forgotten to check his watch when he’d started walking. He hopes Eddie is only mildly freaking out.

Steve moves his hand away, uses it to push back his hair, sticking to his forehead from a combination of rain and sweat. But it’s only when Dustin fails to suppress an involuntary shiver that Steve startles, snaps back into action. Wipes roughly at his face, then nods to himself as if to say Enough now.

“We should go.”

And he stands with only a little jerkiness, takes barely a second to lean against the car before he’s setting off. He looks behind his shoulder expectantly, and Dustin follows.

He doesn’t know how to feel. Relieved, maybe, that Steve feels secure enough to lead the way. Concerned—because the sudden return to ‘normality’ is happening too soon; he can feel it.

As they get off the railroad tracks, begin to approach the edge of the woods, Dustin hears Eddie before he sees him—the clatter and rustle of him repeatedly dropping the flashlight, his muffled curses.

Steve doesn’t seem to notice, has drifted back into silence, blinking down at the forest floor.

Eddie comes into view, and when he sees them, he just. Stops.

“You can’t keep track of time for shit,” he tells Dustin, and his voice shakes a bit in the middle.

Steve’s head raises at that. He blinks slowly. “Eddie?”

“The one and only,” Eddie says as he steps forward, comes to a halt right in front of Steve.

And Dustin doesn’t even take a crack at how incredibly uncool that reply was, because Eddie’s eyes are flickering across Steve’s face, his clothes, like he’s putting a few more puzzle pieces together, ones that Dustin can’t see.

Eddie’s hand lightly touches Steve’s shoulder, no doubt feeling that the thin T-shirt is practically soaked through by now.

“Oh, you’re freezing,” Eddie says softly. “C’mon.”

And Eddie leads the way back to the roadside. He doesn’t touch Steve again, but his hand hovers occasionally, like he can sense that Steve might need someone to lean on.

But Steve never does.

They don’t talk, not until they reach Eddie’s van. And Steve’s car.

“The… the keys,” Steve says. It sounds flat, but only in the sense that he might not have the energy to sound panicked, even when he is.

“Right here,” Eddie says quickly. He takes them out of his jeans pocket. “Safe and sound.”

He offers them, palm open. But Steve doesn’t move. Dustin sees his jaw work a few times.

Then Steve stretches out his hand—he doesn’t take the keys, just leaves it hanging in the air. He’s shaking again.

“Eddie, I don’t think I can-” He cuts himself off, exhales. Drops his hand back down to his side. “Don’t think I can drive.”

He’s talking out the side of his mouth. It almost sounds like he’s embarrassed over Dustin potentially hearing.

Like Dustin would ever think of him differently.

Dustin kind of wants to yell at him, kind of doesn’t. Wants to hug him.

Above all, wants to make Steve understand that he doesn’t ever have to drive people around again. It doesn’t matter, none of it does, because Dustin will love him regardless.

“Okay,” Eddie says. He gestures to Steve’s car. “You trust me with—?”

“Yeah,” Steve says before Eddie has finished speaking, as if he’s answering another question.

“Okay,” Eddie repeats. “How about… you two watch over my van? And I’ll drive the car to yours.”

“How’re you gonna get back here?” Dustin asks.

Eddie shrugs. “Walk?” Then he laughs slightly. “Nah, just kidding. I’ll hitch a ride.”

“Eddie,” Steve says warningly, and honestly Dustin gets it: the town might’ve largely cooled off, sure, but that doesn’t mean most people would tolerate giving Eddie a lift anywhere.

But Eddie just tuts, ushering them over to the van and flinging the door open. Steve seems to follow on automatic pilot, heads inside and sits with his back pressed against the interior, posture like it was in the junkyard. Rigid.

Eddie watches Steve’s movements, and Dustin catches him biting his lip. But he stops as soon as Steve looks his way, gives a gentle kind of smile.

“I’ll be fine, there and back,” Eddie says. “Honestly, Harrington, haven’t you heard? I’m very charming.”

And Eddie steps away, Steve’s keys in hand—but not before giving Dustin a look that he knows means that instead of watching over the van, his instructions are to watch over Steve.

[gloomiebearwritings]

Reiden, Fujin, Erron, Kabal, and Kitana with an s/o that has ADHD?

Sorry if it's too much or it makes you uncomfortable you can decline the request!

Sorry for takin' so long, I went on a break for a bit there! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) I had to leave out Kabal and Kitana as I'm a little rusty still, but I did add Old and Current timeline Raiden! ❤️❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Old Timeline Raiden

ADHD was a new concept to him, at least in terms of being named- but he’s seen a few people before with the same behaviors.

It takes him some time to learn all your little quirks and routines, or lack thereof.

May sometimes become impatient, but always apologizes for his behavior- which over time gets better.

You were asked about by just about everyone, and it seemed to frustrate him more than it did you. Resting off in a room away from everyone else, Raiden takes the brunt of most of everyone’s curiosity for you.

“Y/N needs rest- there is too much going on right now.”

He made sure his voice was stern enough to make his stance clear, “No one is needed that badly right now.”

Though a bit later he catches Johnny going towards your room, stopping him before he gets to the door, “What did I say, Johnny?”

“I was just tryin’ to bring some water!” 

“I will take the water. Go on.”

Current Timeline Raiden

When you first brought it up to him he joked about how Kung Lao must have it too. 

He’s more open to your needs, learning what you need to get things done and feel more comfortable.

Quite patient and understands you’ll have times of being overwhelmed, and tries to help you in those moments.

“Hey, you alright?” he asks you, seeing you utterly spaced out at all the noise. 

When you shake your head “no” he sighs, offering you his hand and giving a reassuring smile. Once he’s got you to your feet he brings you out of sight of everyone else, letting you pick a spot to calm down. 

“Johnny can be a little loud, I know…”

Sitting next to you he uses himself as a comforting barrier between you and the group, “You stay here as long as you need, okay? There’s no rush.”

Fujin

He has a better understanding of it than you’d expect considering his time among humans.

By far the most patient and open about things, offering to help remind you of things.

Will help create routines to help curb bad habits, and steer you away from getting too distracted. 

You felt a gentle nudge on your shoulder, breaking you out of your disconnected daze.

“You seem distracted, did something cross your mind?” 

His voice was sweet, face just as sweet as he leaned over to see yours more. When you shook your head “no” he gave a soft smile, “Overworked yourself? Maybe we should take a minute to refresh you?”

He opened the windows in the room to let fresh air in and brought you something to drink. 

“Have this to start, but let me know if you need anything else…”

Erron

Not the most knowledgeable about the subject, but granted he’s never had to think too hard about things like this before.

Willing to learn however, albeit a little slow when it comes to getting used to new routines.

He will leave little notes around the house for you though, little reminders for things either of you need to do or get. 

He’d left a note on the dining table telling you he’d be home later than usual because he’d be swinging by the market. Which really you didn’t notice until it was almost an hour after he’d normally have been home that it caught your eye. 

Though it seemed like only a minute later he was home, putting things away before coming over to you to give you a friendly little pinch, “Sorry for bein’ out so long…”

Looking at the clock out of curiosity you realize it was 2 hours ahead of when you last looked at it. He chuckled as he realized you must’ve gotten distracted given your mildly confused expression, “Least you didn’t miss me too bad?” he teased.

[vivwritesfics]

Love cowboy Rooster so I have idea,

Rooster and reader taking a trail ride (with others horses if you want) to a lake to have a picnic date while the horses are going crazy in the water :)

Also I love how you did a mixture of both the ideas, I loved it 🥹

-🐎

in my multipart baby of a bob cowboy fic the callsigns are nicknames they got from the rodeo -- same applies here

Bradley would never get sick of the sight of this. Of her in the barn, wearing a sundress and his fucking Stetson. All she was doing was leaning against a stable door, feeding Goose a sugar cube.

(Goose was Bradley's dad's horse. They'd gotten him at two years old from auction just months before Nick Bradshaw sadly passed. Bradley had kept Goose going for the better part of twenty eight years. He was too old to ride now, and nobody loved him more than Bradley's girlfriend).

Bradley couldn't stop himself from sliding his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a kiss. "Ready to go?"

"Let me say goodbye to Goose," she said and pulled the Stetson from her head to place it on his own.

The way Bradley watched her, it could only be described as having hearts for eyes. He watched as she held Goose's nose and lifted it, giving the little pink patch on his nose a kiss. "We'll be back soon, buddy," she said as his nose came to rest on her shoulder.

"C'mon," Bradley said and gently pulled her away. If he had any competition in this world, it was Goose.

Bradley helped her get into Bo's saddle. He didn't have to help her, but he always liked to. As soon as her feet her in the stirrups and she had leaned down to kiss him, he moved on, easily swinging himself up into Rusty's saddle.

They set off, riding side by side away from the Bradshaw ranch. It had been his parents before his. When his father died, Pete Mitchell (who had earnt the nickname from the rodeo) stepped up for a few years. Bradley couldn't remember when Pete left, he didn't even remember him being there. But Bradley had been the man of the house for damn near twenty years.

When his mother died, he was all alone on the ranch. Well, until she came along.

She, who brought that sparkle of light back into his life. She, who Bradley loved with everything that he had. She rode beside him, barely holding onto Bo. She didn't need to, not when he would loyally follow Rusty.

When they got to the lake, there was a series of whoops and hollers. Bradley jumped down from Rusty first. He knew she didn't need help getting out of Bo's saddle; he just liked standing behind her, pulling her against him for a brief second.

"Nice hat!" Jake 'Hangman' Seresin called towards her.

There was a time where she would have been so embarrassed that she rushed to place the hat back onto Bradley's head, but she just grinned at Jake. "Thanks," she said, tongue poking between her teeth as Bradley tied the horses up. "Stole it."

Jake rolled his eyes, but there was no malice behind it. She took her seat beside Bob, gratefully accepting the water he offered her. It wasn't often the squad got to do things like this. Jake and Natasha were both on the rodeo circuit and Bob, Javi, Mickey and Reuben all worked on ranches in the area.

Bradley sat down beside her and immediately pulled her closer, planting a kiss to her cheek.

"Are we gonna see you on the circuit this year, Bradshaw?" Nat asked from where she laid in the sun, her own hat covering her head.

Although Bradley (Or Rooster, as they called him on the circuit) was born and raised for the rodeo, he gave it up. Once his mom died and he was alone running the ranch, he just couldn't. There was far too much to do. Besides, he didn't miss the buckle bunny's begging for him to take them back to his Bronco.

"Yeah, Bradshaw," his girl said, but it didn't take him by surprise. She loved watching him do what he did best.

He finally took the hat from her head and placed it on her own. "You want to watch, pretty girl?" He asked, his mouth close to hers. They kissed and, well, a little more, only pulling away when they heard the group of late twenties/thirty year olds shouting 'ew!'

[my-own-walker]

Hiya!!!! I was wondering if you do peter maximoff smut? 😅😅😅 If you do, I have a request-but if you don't maybe you could make it like Tate or Kyle? <3

I was wondering if you could do something like Peter (if you can) like using his vibrations and going down on the reader(fem!) while making her read her smutty diary entries about him after he read what was in it? :) THANK YOU BESTIE MWAHHH

I Warned You

note: forgive me if this sucks. my emotions have been all over the past few days and i burned the FUCK out of my hand last night.

warnings: sm*t, oral f receiving, peter being a slut, etc

+++

It was a rather oppressive day, heat-wise. One of those sticky hot, thighs chafing, greasy bangs days. The sun shined down in a hazy way on the neighborhood I lived in. As I sat there in my denim shorts and big t-shirt, I reminisced on the days of summer as a child. How I'd spend them with my best friend, Peter.

He was the first person I met when I moved here. I was two, to be fair, so I don't remember much of it all. He's always been a permanent fixture in my life. Someone who was just...always there.

He lived next door. Just like a cliche movie. We would ride bikes and draw on the ground with sidewalk chalk together. He was my second-grade boyfriend. He decided to ‘ask me out’ on the last day of school. He learned in school how to say 'I love you,' in sign language just before he asked to hold my hand on the playground on that day in June. He signed it any chance he could. When his mom drove us home in her minivan that day, he held up the sign. Our little secret.

That summer was pure childhood bliss. Innocence. We really didn't 'break up,' per se. When we entered the third grade that September it was just mutual that we had crushes on other kids. We still stayed friends. I'd hang out at his house after school every day until my parents got home. When the weather was warm, I'd sit outside on my porch waiting for him after dinner. Then, like clockwork, we'd find something to do.

As we got older our activities changed. He taught me how to skateboard. I taught him how to trespass on the baseball fields that were tucked down a back street in our neighborhood. We'd swing on this old tire swing over the stream that ran through our backyards.

In our sophomore year of high school, he bought an old car with dreams to fix it up. A 1965 Ford Mustang. It was rusty, beat up, and had no engine. The windshield was shattered and the inside wasn't upholstered. The only working part of it was its radio. When I walked out of my front door on the day he brought it home, he slapped it on its hood, proudly declaring, 'I'm gonna take you to prom in this thing, baby!' We sat in the old thing all afternoon listening to the radio.

I had known about his abilities the whole time. I never got into foot races with him as a kid for that reason. He would beat me every time. Peter had it under control, for the most part, but only when he wanted to. He started getting brazen with it as a teenager. He'd take me on these wild adventures where he'd steal things. The first time it was just some candy from a convenience store. By the time he got that damned car, he was stealing entire carburetors. These trips took all of 2 minutes. Just the two of us speeding off to create havoc.

Somewhere along the way I fell in love with him. Or maybe it wasn't even that. I can't remember a time when I didn't love him. It changed, though. I started to feel things toward him I'd never felt before. When he'd hold my head to prevent me from getting whiplash as we were making our hasty escapes from his escapades, I'd find chills would run up my spine.

Our beautiful little romance blossomed once he finally got his Mustang up and running. Not that he needed it, really. He was leagues faster than any car. He just wanted to be able to transport more things. And his new girlfriend. We started dating in junior year. He had just gotten his license and took me on a ride one night. We parked down a backstreet in our town and our lips finally met. At long last, his fast fingers were allowed to explore my body in a way I had never allowed him to before. It was wonderful, awkward, and hungry. Everything a teenage love affair should be.

He ended up taking me to the prom in that car, just as he'd promised. He looked so smart in his little tux. We spent that entire summer simply enraptured with each other. Our hangouts transformed from outdoor antics to being tangled in my bed, fan on max speed, windows open to hear the mourning doves sing outside. I can still smell the fresh summer air and the smell of him combining to make something all-encompassing and intoxicating.

It was the next summer on this very hot day. Peter and I had been dating for a year. He was away, hanging out with his friends or something. I was home alone. I sat there on my porch, diary resting lazily on my lap, staring off at the hanging 'FOR SALE,' sign on my yard in front of me . I switched between twirling my pen in my hands and chewing the end of it, deep in thought.

It was always the deal in my house. As soon as I graduated, as the youngest kid in my family, we'd move away again. My parents weren't happy with the town. They knew I had made my life there, but a deal was a deal. I couldn't imagine a life without Peter.

When the sign went up on my front lawn, I began a diary. I was never a writer. I was horrible at keeping up with writing entries in a tiny book. But knowing my life was about to change, I began scratching down every small detail about my life. My time in this house. My childhood. My life with Peter. It was a passion project. I wanted to document everything so I'd never forget.

Peter interrupted my deep inner turmoil. Well, not exactly him. His loud-ass car pulled up, parking in the driveway next door. He stepped out of the car singing, keys jingling in his hands. Like clockwork, his head turned to see if I was on my porch. Our routine since we were kids. In a flash, he was sitting next to me.

'Hey pretty,' he breathed, kissing me gently on my cheek.

'Hey Peter,' I smiled, looking up at him. Whenever he was near me I couldn't help but get wrapped up in him. Swept away in his deep brown eyes and sea of silver hair. There was a palpable feeling between the two of us. Dancing around the topic of me moving away, even though the signs were all around us, literally. It was a tension that colored every moment of our time together, yet we tried in earnest to ignore it.

'Whatcha got there?' he asked, half-taunting, as he usually did.

'Oh, haha,' I blushed, clapping the book shut and tucking the pen inside. 'It's nothing, just a planner.'

'A planner? Y/L/N, when have you ever been the type to schedule things?' he scoffed. 'Gimme that.' He lunged for the diary. I curled my body up tight into a ball, the book nestled safely between my lap and chest. My arms secured it even further.

'Peter! Stop it! I gotta get my shit together,' I whined. 'Like, plan out packing!'

'Packing for what?' he asked sarcastically, still trying in vain to pry the diary from my grasp. In his desperation, he attempted the only trick he had left to get me to let go. He started tickling my sides. It was a surefire way to piss me off, but also to get me to let go. The diary clattered to the ground as I stood up quickly to get away from his hands tickling me at light speed. He paused for a moment to grab the diary off the ground.

'Hey, thanks!' he exclaimed, taking off in a flash inside my house, leaving only the wind behind to prove he was there.

I clamored inside behind him, calling after him as I stumbled up the stairs. He was already laying on my bed, on his side, reading my diary entries when I got to my room.

‘DON’T read those!’ I panted in vain. ‘They’re so bad!’

‘Oh, these little stories?’ he smirked, looking up only with his eyes. ‘I think they’re pretty good.’

My cheeks burned hot. I stepped into the room and slammed the door shut. He held the book up closer to his face and squinted. ‘Peter, please, I’m warning you,’ I pleaded.

‘His tongue slid into me. All of my insides felt warm and tingly…’ he read out.

‘OH MY GOD NO!’ I rushed over to him, trying to pry my diary out of his hands. I was on the bed on my knees doing what I could to get my embarrassing writing back. He and his super speed, though, had other plans. I gave up after minutes of trying, tired of grabbing at a person that wasn’t even there by the time my hands reached him. He stopped his motion and was right back where he started on my bed.

‘I think I got what I needed,’ he smirked. ‘Let me review the highlights with you…’

He moved quickly, without using his super speed, to lay me down my my back. I didn’t object. He was always gentle with me, careful not to use his speed unless I asked him to. Peter hated anything that took a long time, but with me he always had patience. Well, unless it was taking my clothes off.

Peter worked quickly to get every inch of fabric off my body. His smooth hands rubbed all over my skin as he kissed me passionately. He stopped to pick up the diary that had been discarded to the side on my bed.

‘Let’s see…’ he muttered, pinning my shoulder down with one hand, his legs straddling my lap. ‘He spread my legs slowly…okay I can do that.’

The diary was once again dropped so he could part my thighs. His hot breath hovered over my weeping cunt.

‘Right, right, then the tongue part,’ he reminded himself. He kissed all along the insides of my thighs, eventually making contact with my middle. My toes curled and my breath hitched. I was ready for what he was about to do. He slipped his tongue into me and my eyes rolled back. He flicked his tongue over my clit, making me yelp out.

He separated himself from me to grab my diary again.

‘You’re gonna have to read this next part, Y/N, I’m a little preoccupied here,’ he instructed. He passed the book into my shaking hands. I didn’t even have the energy to protest. I just wanted to feel his warmth within me again. His mouth reconnected with my pussy.

‘H-his abilities came in handy when giving me head,’ I panted. ‘He can do this thing- thi- this thing where he vibrates.’ I could only choke out so much in my pleasure.

I felt him take a few deep breaths before beginning to vibrate at sonic speed. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The first time he did it, I thought I would just about die. He pulled away for a moment.

‘Keep reading,’ he breathed. I whimpered, shaking hands once again opening the diary. He reconnected with my middle again and I let out a loud moan.

‘He kn-knows how to make m-me purr like a kitten. There’s n-nothing like it,’ I sputtered out.

I didn’t have much left in me. He, acting as my own personal vibrator, brought me to my limit. I came with a loud yelp, laughing immediately after. Peter stopped vibrating and laid on top of me, his face meeting mine.

‘You are SUCH a dick, Maximoff,’ I giggled.

‘I thought it was sexy, how you write about me and all,’ Peter shrugged. He peppered kisses all over my face and neck as we both caught our breath. For a fleeting moment, nothing in the world mattered. All we cared about was each other. For a moment, I wasn’t moving away. It was us and us only. ‘You’re a million miles away, beautiful. What’s wrong?’

Snapping out of my trance, I planted a kiss on his lips. ‘Nothing at all, Peter. Just really ready for round two,’ I smirked.

+++

I really enjoyed this one. Thank you so much for this request! I promise I’ll write more this week. It’s been cray cray on my end.

[theetherealbloom]

UNEVEN ODDS — CH. 2

Chapter Two: Roll Up Your Sleeves

Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-gap Romance, Violence, Angst, Fluff, Guns, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Swearing, Reader wants to sacrifice herself, Zombies, eventual SMUT, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: Holy shit there are so many of you sjdfhgsk AHHHH thank you so much for all the notes and comments, I appreciate it! Here’s a little bit of info for you to understand a little bit of my thought process. In my outline, the reader is an Enneagram Type 9: The Peacekeeper. (This helps me add a little bit of depth to you so I don’t feel entirely lost when writing) if she seems “passive” or “complacent” it’s cause she wants everything to go smoothly and be without conflict. I’d like to believe there’s a little part of us that prefer to avoid tension, due to the fear of loss and separation from the people or things you love. I’ll go a little bit more in-depth about this in the story as it progresses. Hope you enjoy!

Song: evermore (feat. bon iver) by Taylor Swift

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TLOU WORLD – 2023

BOSTON - NOON

You walk along the ruins of a long-abandoned Boston with an overpowering sense of dread. It feels like the build-up of a song in which you know the tune, the lyrics, and the beat. Strings of violins, drums, and bells ring and thump in your mind, unwanted and uncaring of how you feel. This curse of knowledge you never asked for but which you carry follows you as the four of you approach the Bostonian Museum. Creeper vines and Cordyceps grow on the sides of the building, marked by conspicuous veins and all-consuming every red brick of this once-beautiful structure.

The four of you stand outside the entrance of the museum. Cordyceps consume every part of the foundation, Ellie tilts her head to look up at it appalled, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You stand next to Joe, using your hand to rub your right eye, and mumble, “Shit.”

“Well, there’s a way across from the top floor,” Tess says while moving to place her hands in the pockets of her pants. Ellie sarcastically replies, “Well, then I guess it’s fine.” Tess reassures her by adding, “We use to take it all the time.”

Ellie answers, “Okay.” Joel leaves your side and approaches a dry vein of the Cordyceps, removing the rifle he stole from the FEDRA guard, he crouches and touches a part of it to check if it was still active. He swings downward, hits the vein with the butt of the gun, and a puff of dust releases from the dead fungi, he stands to walk over to Tess, “It’s bone dry. It could mean they’re all finally dead in there.”

Tess nods, then they both kneel to prepare their flashlights and weapons, just in case. You and Ellie watch them both rummage through their backpacks, “Oh, man,” the kid mutters.

Joel whips out a flashlight and waves it at Ellie, “Marlene pack you one of these or just sandwiches?” She removes her backpack, “Yeah,” and pulls out her flashlight. Joel looks to you, “Catch, hummin’ bird.” That was the only warning he gave you before tossing you the flashlight, “Luckily, I have a spare.”

You’re short of breath as you hear the nickname he gave you. Miraculously, caught it with both hands, and without even thinking you wink, “Thanks, cowboy.” Thankfully, no one says anything about your quip directed at him.

“Okay, so… more ground rules.” Tess announces and turns to Ellie,  “We’re gonna go slowly. If we come up against anything you get behind us and you stay there, okay?” The young girl nods and wears her backpack, “Yes.” Tess brings out her handgun and flashlight, positioning her hands in a way that she can use both. Ellie glances at the gun she’s holding, “I have a spare hand.”

Joel is unamused by what she is insinuating, dryly replies, “Congratulations.” He walks forward with determination, he pokes his head through the door to do an initial check before turning around to nod at the three of you to signal it’s clear. Reluctantly, you follow them inside, your mind has kicked into overdrive, trying to figure out a way to get past this with zero casualties. If you sacrifice yourself, would that change the ending? Would it buy Tess a little more time? This might be your grand attempt to do something right and kind without assurance, without the promise of an afterlife.

Flashlights dance and shine around the walls of the abandoned museum, you watch your step and try to calm the beating of your heart as you look at the artifacts left behind. You navigate through the hallways and come across a corpse of an infected deceased. Joel shines his flashlight on the fungi, “Yeah, cooked.” Tess exhales, “Finally, some fucking luck.” Ellie steps a little closer to investigate the remains of what was once human, Joel continues, “I guess we should’ve gone this way in the first place.”

You were so caught up in trying to ground yourself in the reality of all of this, that this is actually happening, that you forgot to at least warn them about the Clickers they were about to face in a couple of moments. Just as Ellie was about to turn a corner, you whisper loudly to her, “Ellie wait!”

Too fucking late. “Oh shit,” Ellie exclaims with wide eyes, and Joel makes a move to inspect what she found. A dead bruised, bloodied, young man slouched against the corner. Ellie’s eyes were full of shock, “What the fuck did that?”

Joel and Tess look at each other knowingly, and you finally decide to speak up, for her and theirs, “Whatever you’re about to say or hope for, don’t bother.” The three of them turn to look at you and you decide to continue in an audible whisper, “I wasn’t sure if I could or should warn you, but we need to stay quiet from now on.” You gather your courage to look directly at Joel with an unwavering stare, “It’s exactly what you suspect it is.”

“Are you saying an infected did that?” Ellie whispers to the three adults, and she resumes, “Because I’ve been attacked by one and it wasn’t like that.” Joel looks at you and he can see the way your face twists, your lips curled downwards, and your eyes show your remorse and guilt, he whispers to everyone, “Okay, from this point forward we are silent. Not quiet. Silent.” Ellie looks at him concerned and confused, “What?” But Joel shakes his head, “No. No questions. Just do it.”

This is it. You think to yourself as you will your feet to move, continuing, you follow Joel and Ellie up the stairs with Tess trailing behind. You remember when you could cover your eyes to the scary moments of the show, you could press pause, or fast forward, not needing to witness and feel the distress and panic.

The quiet creak of each floorboard of the steps as your boots land on the rotting wood, it groans all of your weight and dust falls from the ceiling. You all stop silently, waiting for any indication of an infected discovering that all of you were in the museum. After a moment, Joel looks back at you, a silent way of asking if it’s okay, you throw him a bone and give him a tiny spoiler, then you nod at him. And all four of you continue up the stairs.

As you make the first landing of the steps, you shine your flashlight to meet a horrifying view. Multiple corpses of people who were infected with Cordyceps lay on the wooden floors. It’s unspeakable and all-consuming, the silence overwhelms your system, there is a sudden tightness in your chest, and feel a part of your mask slip, your eyes shift and move to look at the pile of bodies. Organs and parts that were once human, were scooped out and transformed into fungi.

Your mouth opens silently, quivering as you do, and you lightly shake your head. Joel steps over the rotting fungi, just as you were about to grab Ellie and warn her about what she couldn’t see, you were too late. Again. A satisfying crunch could be heard throughout the building and you squeeze your eyes shut in fear for a moment then you reopen them. Joel whips around to look at Ellie with annoyance, the kid gives him an apologetic look.

Thankfully, you managed to make it up the steps with no more issues. Joel slowly opens the door to Independence Hall, and the wood gives a quiet creak. He quickly scans the area before deciding to nod at all of you, telling you it’s clear.

With your foresight and knowledge of events that had already happened in your time, you decide to act accordingly and give a hard shove to both Tess and Ellie inside the Hall and quickly follow after, gravity takes place and parts of the museum collapse, pieces of wood and cement block the doors. You were trapped.

Tess and Ellie push themselves off the ground, but you take a little longer to get up. You scraped your arms and hands, and the pain in your head came back. Joel quickly and quietly helps Ellie up then realizes you haven’t moved yet. He immediately makes his way to you, lightly shaking you to get up, you blink back the blurry black spots that are forming in your eyes and stand up with his help, both of his hands on the underside of your forearms.

You squint and slowly look up at him, and for what felt like a second, you see the worry that lines his face. Concern and need to protect you, even though you’re just a stranger. The moment doesn’t last long, you hear the familiar sound of screeching in the room adjacent to you. Flashlights shine in the direction of the noise and you hold your breath as all of you walk backward, keeping your eyes on the monster that emerges from the shadows. The twitchy movements are followed by the croaky noises of the infected, it tries to navigate, searching for its next prey. And on queue, the other Clicker screeches, indicating that there are two of them. This is no longer a museum, it’s a fucking horror house and all of you are in for the worst experience of your life.

You are now surrounded by predators, and prey, playing a twisted game of hide and seek. You press your back against the glass of the cabinet, Tess to your right, Ellie to your left, and Joel being the farthest left. He gestures to his eyes and ears, quietly mouthing, “They can’t see, but they can hear.”

The creature groans and croaks, clicking sounds from its throat. It’s right behind the glass, your eyes drift to the monster and see its jerky movements. You bring your eyes to look at Joel, he lifts his pointer finger to his lips, indicating to be incredibly still and silent. Fear is the darkness and the unknown, a hard-to-shake feeling, it overstays its welcome and leaves you panting.

Tess watches the monster make its way around the corner, limping and shaky. Ellie closes her eyes to try and control her breathing, and you get yourself ready for the fight you never wished for. ‘Why is it always so fucking dark?’ You wonder inside your head, The Clicker comes into view, and you hear an audible gasp come from Ellie. Shit.

The creature turns in your direction at full tilt, mouth wide open with its yellowing teeth, and gives the loudest high-pitch screech. Joel sprays bullets into the Clickers’ chest, but it fights back, he looks in your direction and yells out, “Run!”

The second clicker begins to sprint toward you and Tess shoots at it but the bullet misses. Tess grabs Ellie by the arm and drags her away, while you run with them. The four of you get separated, Tess trips and so do you and Ellie, she yells out to tell her, “Run… Run!”

Ellie crawls her under a table and finds her way out, while the Clicker runs after Tess. You are now at a crossroads, Joel is running at the other end of the exhibit while Tess heads in the opposite direction. You swiftly make a split-second decision and duck, right behind Ellie under the table, however, you do not crawl away, instead, you wait for the Clicker to run by you and quietly get up to follow after Tess. This is your chance to make things right, to ensure she doesn’t get bitten. Will this cost you your life?

You grab an ax hanging from the wall and run to the other side of the room, you hold it with both hands and feel the sweat coating your skin. You turn a corner and see Tess pinned up against the wall, the creature feasting on her neck, your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach, and you let out a scream, “No!”

The creature quickly turns and shrieks at you, angry for interrupting its meal, now it begins sprinting towards you, and the adrenaline pumps into your bloodstream and system. The anger starts to flare in your chest, the silence grows louder along with the ringing in your ears. You stand unwavering and with the courage that has been asleep for so long, it awakens at the right time.

Aiming directly at its head, you throw the axe with everything you have. It lands on a portion of its mushroom-infected face. Yet, it only slows the creature down a second, screaming and swinging its long mutated arms, and tries to locate you, but, it hears the commotion in the other room, loud pops of a revolver can be heard and you assume it’s Joel killing the other Clicker.

The abomination of what once was human turns and screeches at Joel and Ellie, it scampers towards them and you feel the pulse in your veins like a fighter, you fight the fear and let the rush take over, you sharply glance at the handgun Tess had dropped during the chaos and without hesitation, you pick it up and pray it still has some bullets in the chamber.

This was a skill you wished you never had to use. All those days in the range were just a precaution, the world is not kind to women, and you learned to protect yourself just in case. It meant only using a gun when you or the people you loved were in danger.

Using one hand, you swiftly remove the safety with your thumb, aim, and shoot at the head of the Clicker. With three loud pops and then a fourth one for good measure, the monster falls to its knees and on the ground.

Dead.

Blood oozes from the infected’s head, and you stand there watching the crimson splatter grow larger. Tess appears from the archway and takes in the vision before her. You turn to aim the gun at her, your fight instincts kick in, still high from the adrenaline, and you stand there breathing heavily.

Joel yells out your name. You blink once, then twice. A beat passes, and you don’t register Joel approaching you in a calm slow manner, his arm stretched out with his palm facing you, treating you as if you were a frightened animal, now he places his hand on top of yours, a touch so gentle you barely register it. Carefully and steadily he takes away the gun in your hand and turns the safety on before handing it to Tess, which she slowly takes, while you let it happen.

Your vision is blurry and tries to swallow away your guilt. You were too late. You couldn’t save her. Joel says your name again, he’s in front of you now, his frame covering and protecting Tess, but he has replaced the gun you once held, with his hand. Ellie watches the events unfold from the side, not wanting to create any more noise or movement. He squeezes your hand and whispers, “It’s okay… It’s okay.”

It’s not, but his voice brings you back anyway. You look to Tess, your eyes full of sorrow, and your voice quivers as you speak, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Tess nods knowingly, she swallows her pride and sadness to say, “It’s okay. You tried… um, thank you.”

Her words completely snap out of your trance, and you see the world a little clearer now. You nod back at her, then bring your eyes to Joel, who is still holding your hand. His eyes dance around, observing and taking note of every detail of your face. You’re the first to break the staring contest, realizing that Tess doesn’t have a lot of time. You step back away from him, dropping his hand, “We should get going.”

Joel turns to Tess, “You all right?” She nods, “Twisted ankle, but yeah.” She limps over to Ellie, “You all right?”

“Well, I didn’t shit my pants, so…” Ellie says and pulls up the sleeve of her jacket to reveal a bite from the infected. “You fucking kidding me?” she exclaims and turns to look at Joel, “I mean if it was going to happen to one of us.”

Tess stays silent at that, glancing at you to keep your mouth shut. You give a discreet nod in response, Tess calls out to Joel, “Hey. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Joel pushes the window up and opens, stepping out onto the roof, Ellie follows and you do too, leaving Tess for last, who plops down to rest her ankle, “Fuck.”Joel kneels and opens his pack to give Ellie a bandage, “Put this around your arm.” She takes it and says, “Thanks.” You watch as Ellie makes her way to a wooden plank, makeshift bridge, “Over there?” Joel glances over while continuing to fuss over Tess, “Yeah, I know it looks scary.”

“That was scary. This is wood.” Ellie states and proceeds to walk across the wood plank to get to the other building’s roof. Joel watches in disbelief and hollers, “Just wait there. Give us a minute.” He turns to look at you, “Can you go make sure she’s…” You only nod, knowing that Joel and Tess need to talk, you look at the wood plank they call a bridge and mumble to yourself, “If the way I die is falling from a high place, so be it.” 

You walk across with no problem and catch up to Ellie, “Hey,” you say as you stand by her and take in the view. “What happened to you back there?” Ellie asks, the wind blowing strands of hair away from her face. You huff, “I don’t know. The adrenaline took over, I guess.”

You both stand in silence now, then you can hear the heavy footsteps of Joel walking up to the right of Ellie, she merely glances at him and then turns back to see the State House in the distance, glittering under the sunlight. “Is it everything you hoped for?” Joel asks her, Ellie blinks but answers him, “Jury’s still out. But, man you can’t deny that view.”

You hear Tess approaching from behind, eager to keep moving, “Come on, let’s get there before it’s dark.” She turns and then climbs a ladder down, letting out a groan of pain no one question or brings up. Joel nods at Ellie to follow Tess which he does, you look at Joel as Ellie climbs down. And you held his gaze for a moment, then look to his broken watch, before climbing down after the young kid.

Leaves crunch with every step you take, Tess lightly limping ahead, she turns to look at you, and you could only stare back. Tess looks straight ahead once more, and you can’t help but wonder about the violence of the dog days and what could get you through this. You see the State House from a distance, a hauntingly beautiful sight, creeper vines growing on the pillars and sides of the edifice.

The group decides to hide behind an abandoned car near the state house, and immediately could tell that something was very wrong, “Where the fuck are they?” Tess harshly states, Joel, shakes his head and decides to go check the truck parked outside by the steps of the ruined State House.

Joel walks over cautiously to the door of the truck, he swings it open to aim his rifle at it, only for the seats to be empty. Joel sees the blood splattered on the sides of the door, and turns to mouth at you all, “Stay back.” He rounds the side of the truck and notices a recently deceased, he continues to the back of the truck, swinging the giant blue metal doors, to confront no one.

You follow Ellie and Tess as she demands, “Joel, what the fuck is going on?” Joel shakes his head, “I don’t know.”

No longer wanting to play along, you look down to see a trail of blood up the steps and into the State House, you hear someone call your name, but say nothing as you walk up to the doors of the building. You push your way through, briskly walking to the center of the structure, and you take a good look at the multiple dead people scattered on the ground. You shake your head and close your eyes, “Fuck.”

You hear the three come in after you and they notice immediately what happened, Tess goes into a panic, “Okay. I mean there’s gotta be a fucking radio or something, right?” She proceeds to open the kit boxes that contain nothing but supplies, searching for anything that could help them win.

“Who killed them? FEDRA?” Ellie asks, and you reply, “No,” you nod to the man on the ground, Joel rolls him over with his boot and you continue, “One of them got bit. The healthy ones fought the sick ones. Everyone lost.”

Joel’s nostrils flared as he stared at you, “You knew? You knew and didn’t even bother to warn us that this was all for nothin’?” You raised your chin, “They were already dead hours before we got here.” His jaw clenched while you stood, fists clenched by your sides, and rolled your shoulders back, glaring at Joel.

Joel calls out to Tess, “Tess, what are you doing?” She ignores him and approaches Ellie, “Where did Marlene say that she was taking you?” Ellie responds unsure, “Uh, I don’t know. Just west.”

“Just west. Fuck. okay. Well, I mean, one of them’s gotta have a map on them, right?” Tess then goes to search one of the deceased Firefly’s pockets, “Joel, can you help me?”

“No.” He fumed, “Tess, it’s over. We are going home.”

“That’s not my fucking home!”

You let the exchange happen, while you move to one of the kits to retrieve a handgun, some ammo, and a small first-aid kit, and steal a backpack sitting on top of the chairs to shove all your supplies inside. Then, you hear Tess say the words you knew would happen, “I’m staying. I mean, our luck had to run out sooner or later.”

“Fuck.” Ellie whispers, “She’s infected.”

Tess sighs, and Joel’s eyes hardened and narrowed into slits, “Show me.” She takes a step forward and whispers his name, only for him to take a step back. Tess then steps back, anguish splashes across her face, then pulls the collar of her shirt and jacket, to reveal the growing infection on her neck, “Oops, right? And don’t bother taking it against her,” Tess gestures to you, “She did everything she could to save me, but I guess fate had already cut my string.”

Joel takes in a breath of disbelief while Tess looks to Ellie, “Take your bandage off.” Which she does to reveal no evidence of infection, just a new scar on her forearm to add to her collection. Tess makes her way to Ellie and holds her arm, “Look. Joel? This is real.” She drags Ellie closer to him, “Joel, she’s fucking real.” Her grip suddenly becomes twitchy and she wills her hand to stop shaking and hides it behind her back, she stares directly into the eyes of whom she once loved, “I need you to get her to Bill and Frank’s.”

Joel is shaking his head as he replies, “No.” But Tess continues to speak, “They’ll take her off your hands. They’ll handle it from here.”

“No… I can’t. They won’t take her. They’re not gonna take her.” He says and you watch each part you knew to unfold, Tess whispers to him, “They will because you’ll convince them. Yes, you will. I never ask you for anything. Not to feel the way I felt…”

“No.” He stubbornly states, but Tess lets the tears stream down her face and exclaims, “Now, you shut the fuck up because I don’t have time.”

He grants her request and listens, “This is your chance. You get her there. You keep her alive and you set everything right. All the shit we did.” Joel shakes his head as Tess begs, “Please say yes, Joel. Please.”

Despite the somber mood, a screech from one of the corpses has come to life and taken its revenge on the living, Ellie screams out, “Oh, fuck!” But your reaction time is faster this time, and you no longer hesitate as you walk towards the parasite, remove the safety of the gun and shoot it point blank in the head. Joel comes up behind you, and takes notice of what you’re staring at, the Cordyceps patch has awakened the rest of the infected and you hear the croaks and shrieks from outside of the State House.

Joel runs up to one of the doors to check how many are on the way, he shuts the door and locks it after making out the horde approaching. “How many?” Tess asks, Joel walks past her, “All of ‘em. Maybe a minute.”

Tess takes one of the rifles off of the floor and uses the butt of the gun to remove the lid on the fuel barrels. She pushes it to the floor, and the clear yellow liquid pours out of it and coats the floor. You help and do the same to the other barrel, knowing how this will end for Tess. “What are you doing?” Ellie asks, watching you and Tess scatter grenades on the ground, “Making sure they don’t follow you.”

Tess then approaches Joel, breathless and shaking, “Joel. Save who you can save.”

He clenches his jaw and his nostrils flared, angry, confused, upset, everyone he ever loved leaves or dies. He stares at her, soaking in her image as much as he can, and then he makes his decision. He quickly grabs Ellie by the arm and drags her away, her protests can be heard as it fades away around the corner, she punches his arm to try and break loose but he’s much stronger, “No! We’re not leaving her! Get off me, you fucker!”

Tess says your name and you turn to face her, “You weren’t lying? About the whole different universe thing?” You can only shake your head in response, hoping she can see your heart breaking into pieces.

Tess hums and gives you a small smile, “Take care of them for me, please? Especially Joel. Stubborn as a mule but you’ll learn to love him, just like I did.” You decide to grant the woman her dying wish, you nod and whisper, “Goodbye, Tess.”

You turn to run and didn’t look back, pushing out of the wooden doors, while tears stream down your face slightly obscuring your vision. But you manage to catch up with Joel and Ellie, as you did, the blast from the State House is sudden and loud. The smell of burning kerosine fills the air and you turn to look back at the raging fire, Joel turns and points his rifle at the area, ready to shoot just in case, only to hear screeching and the infected burning on the steps of the building.

You stare and one-half of your senses silently wish Tess would walk out, but you can no longer rewind, she’s gone. Ellie pants, trying to catch her breath, tears rimming her eyes and Joel lowers his rifle to turn away from the roaring flames. You and Ellie turn to watch his lone silhouette walk away from you both.

A/N: WELL that’s the end of Episode 2! Lowkey was fighting invisible demons to get this chapter edited and out bcs I wanted to improve on describing movement, anger, sorrow, etc. IT WAS EXTREMELY DIFFICULT T^T but I hope I didn’t disappoint ya’ll <3 ALSO YEP MHM TAGLIST! Send me an ask so I can add ya! It’ll stay open for a tiny period of time so send away :D

I’m proud of you for doing the right thing by trying to save Tess! Even though we all know you secretly admire Joel and would have chased after him to ensure his safety with Ellie. hehehehehe 

Yes, the reader only knows everything up to Episode 3, meaning she has no clue about the rest of the show! She knows (most) parts of the video game but alas we know Television series like to change things so she’s lowkey fucked lol

I LIVE FOR YOUR COMMENTS ya’ll crack me up and have the best reactions. Thank you for your support and love. I’ll try and get the next chapter out soon!

-Grace

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[mslanna]

How about Raphael (who is in love with interested in Tav) reacting to Tav, in a moment of desperation, transforming into a true dragon to save him from death.

The kicker? Tav did not remember that she was a true dragon due to the tadpole wrecking her memory and is just as caught off guard by this revelation as her lover is.

Well, this took a moment. 😂 Anyway. I finally got an idea and made it work. Enjoy. 😊 A Dragon Born on AO3

A Dragon Born

That's what you got for trying to outsmart a devil. Tav's war hammer crashes down on the nearest gelugon. A crown for a hammer. That was easy. That was predictable. But noooo. Another skull shatters under their weapon. They had to be smart. They wanted more and, what is worse, had their cunt allowed to do the thinking.

So here they are. Not on the frontline of Raphael's war, but balls-deep in it still. Bodyguard. Pah. A glorified breastplate is what they are. Just another layer between Raphael and his death.

The thought hones Tav's concentration back to the battle at hand. Thinking with their cunt had been one thing. And something Raphael had no qualms about. As things stood, they went well-satisfied despite Haarlep's warning. The devil was pliable to praise and eager to control. Characteristics that were easily exploited for pleasure.

On the flip side, he was as eager to conquer and the hells were offering ample resistance.

Should have been more careful with the duration of the terms, Tav thought not for the first time. Should have been more careful that my cunt doesn't drag other organs into the mess. Should, should, should.

It is too late for Tav. Raphael's current favourite plaything is hopelessly in love. A fact Raphael abuses shamelessly. Who better to keep him safe than somebody who can't stand the thought of losing him? Tav just swishes he wasn't so reckless with them in tow.

But he is and the tide of the battles turns against them ever so slowly. And Raphael, intent on still winning as he is, doesn't get any of the hints to move to a place easier to defend. The last thing they need is to be surrounded. Tav nudges the devil eastwards again, where rusty cliffs tower with the promise of stark ravines.

They can retreat there. Find a secluded space and at least get their own asses out of the fight intact. Tav has made peace with losing about the complete army at this point. But once again, Raphael doesn't budge.

Despite their situation, Tav has to admire the cambion. His helldusk armour is covered in blood and gore, his face splatters, hair almost ruffled. He looks positively vicious. Violence suits him well: Bare teeth emphasis the snarl of his lips. If they were not fighting for their lives – Tav shakes their head.

They are fighting for their lives and whatever thoughts cross their mind at the sight of Raphael in a battle frenzy, they will have to make a list for later. If there is a later. They push again, but the devil is too caught up ion the fight to react.

"Raphael," Tav hisses, leaning close. "We must retreat!"

Nobody tells n archduke of hell what to do. Raphael's eyes flare up, but the lunge harmlessly passes Tav's head, cutting through an imp behind them. In return Tav steps around their devil, swinging their war hammer in an expert curve that connects beautifully with an attackers temple. They drop dead on the spot only to be replaced by more opponents.

"Trust me," Raphael replies.

What can Tav say to that? The devil's trick almost cost them their lives as often as they save them. They hack on, keeping a small circle around them clear and hope Raphael will act soon. The press of enemies only gets thicker and Tav's arms tire from the prolonged fight.

Impossible. Tav inches closer to the devil. Enemies swamp them and still he doesn't move. Any moment now they will be overrun. From the corner of their eye, Tav sees him prepare a spell, one of the bin ones by the amount of preparation necessary. Taking a deep breath, Tav braces, ready to keep the flood at bay a little longer.

One of the devils breaks through though. Tav lunges, but only manages to shatter his skull once the curved blade ripped through Raphael's side and wing. They his, angry at themself, Raphael., the world. They hammer sweeps around the two of them in a wide arch. But every inch is hard won and lost as soon as their weapon moves on.

A wave of hellfire sweeps out from Raphael and incinerates most of the attackers close by. Tav shivers under the gust of warmth. Hellfire is a familiar comfort to them, another gift from Raphael. But they are not the only fighter with that advantage. The opposition closes in again, burnt bones of their companions crunching underfoot.

A gelugon drives their lance forwards. It catches on Tav's armour, bounces and slips to the ground behind Raphael's legs. Only when the devil falters slowly, does Tav realise it must have caught him behind the knee.

Curses fall from their lips as hits rain down on the surrounding foes. But it is never quite enough to buy a reprieve. And it gets more difficult with Raphael unable to fend for himself any longer. Tav prowls over his prone form. They will keep the blades away and if they have to use their own body for a shield.

Swords and arrows bounce from the helldusk plates, shaking Tav's balance each step. There is no thought left in their mind, just stay and protect. There is no way to get them both to safety now. But Tav will not leave Raphael undefended as long as they can still stand.

Tav lunges at the attacker, throwing themself at them chest first. The desperate movement expands and fills their whole perception. The world blinks out of existence for a moment before Tav lands on their forelegs, one arm reaching for a devil about to strike at Raphael's prone form.

A scaled claw closes around their waist. Without thinking, Tav sinks their claws into soft flesh and squeezes. The devil squelches in their grip, flowing apart on a soft mass of flesh, blood, and ground bone.

Tav stares it for a split second. They cannot afford to be distracted. Their long neck swerves and turns to take in the scene. The attackers seem to hesitate. Over their newly curved back, Tav finds a tail and gives it an experimental woosh that tales out a row of devils.

Well.

Alright then.

Tav inhales and roars their frustration at the surrounding enemies and their new scream comes with ice. A crescent patch of ground cracks as it is frozen and the devils stumble on the surface. Tav aims another blast at them directly and veins burst under the pressure of the freezing water in their bodies expanding beyond capacity.

It makes the others step back cautiously. Tav reaches out with their claws again, light blue scale glittering ominously in the red light of the hells, and sweeps the last devils standing on the icy patch off their feet. They slash deep gashes into their flesh through their armour. A very satisfactory feeling.

Cold violence bubbles under Tav's scales, but each time they lash out with claw, it gets worse instead of better. Their restraint melts away like the ice of their breath. If they are not careful this animal nature will take over. Tav concentrates on their objectives: protect Raphael. Stay alive. Save Raphael.

Tav looks around. There are to many foes even for this form that feels powerful enough to rip apart Asmodeus on his own throne.

With a roar, Tav crouches over their devil. Their wings expand and Tav understands now the display of power and unbridled ferocity it is. They push off the ground and cradle Raphael's from carefully in scaled claws. His cambion body is fragile compared to Tav's dragon form.

They rise slowly and their neck swings this way and that. Keeping arrows and thrown lances at bay. As soon as Tav flies out of reach, they check on their precious cargo. Raphael hangs limp in their grip, still knocked out.

It is alright. Tav will find a safe place for him. If they are lucky, they may be able to spin him a story, too. One that avoids the embarrassing subject of their transformation.

[solmtinel]

Panette swings her axe and it nearly misses her target. So she is getting rusty is she? Or perhaps there is something else on her mind, something itching at the back of her skull. Just as she is about to try to shake it off and try another swing, the training door swivels open with a slow creak causing her to start and turn around.

"Buh..."

The axe clatters to the floor with a loud thud, but she cares precious little when there is a much more important matter at hand in front of her. She dashes across the floor, nearly slipping on her way there.

"Boss! What the heck are you doing here? I thought-- Well, it doesn't matter. Ah, where are my manners? Ahem. Shall we take a jaunt on wolfback once you get settled in? It has been far too long and now without the pressure of war..."

"ehehe." solm's queen giggles, placing her hands on her hips. "looks like my surprise was a success." she teases seeing her retainer's floored reaction from her sudden appearance. as much as she understands and admires the amount of effort that panette put in to appear and speak like a proper retainer, she loved the more wild panette that didn't bother with manners more.

"you don't have to worry about solm. mom's keeping things afloat while i study here." timerra grins, knowing exactly what she was thinking. "we need to do a little camping too. it's just not the same without merrin and you camping with me!"

[kaynadoesalot]

Chapter 2: truth or dare?

prev|index|next

everyone was gathered around the fireplace trying to figure out how the rusty but vintage camera works.

"hm, strange I can't find any camera like this on Google. How old is this thing?" ryle asked, a little distress on his face presented by the scrunch of his eyebrows.

"It's okay, just a camera," said Ava, grabbing it and studying it for a few seconds before figuring out the mechanics of the cryptic device.

"ah here we go, just click this silver button here and we are good to go" said Ava, pointing at the button with a satisfactory look. rest of the group looking at her in admiration.

"wow Ava that was so cool, how'd you do it" exclaimed Noah

"I dont know it just came to me" shrugged Ava as she took her place before Olivia.

"Okay you guys, I see a timer button. I'll set it for 5 seconds. be ready" said Matthew, placing the camera on the table in front of them.

Everyone grabbed a spot, holding each other close, swinging an arm around their shoulders. Mia and Ryle coincidently being placed close together but if Mia saw the look in Isabella's eyes, she knew it wasn't accidental but on purpose. Ryle looked at Mia and smiled as he wrapped his arm around her waist, she looked away and straight to the camera, her face flushed.

"get ready!" exclaimed Noah as he heard the camera beep thrice over the chaos. Everyone looked at the camera except Ryle, who was still admiring Mia silently, one more second and he would have had a lifelong memory of this moment until Mia nudged him to look ahead. Just as he did, the camera clicked.

matthew grabbed the camera, trying to look for the picture but to his disappointment, this was a film camera.

"oh you guys we will have to get them developed"

"oh that's alright, we can click pictures all night and look for a shop tomorrow" suggested Mia

"yeah sounds like a plan" Ava chimed in agreeing with Mia

"come on you guys, let's hit the dance floor, and get the party started"cheered Olivia as daniel agreed with her, joining her with a glass of vodka in his hand.

Ava is already on the job of connecting her phone to the speaker, putting on a playlist curated by everyone before coming to Shadowvale, this way everyone gets to enjoy the music.

"let's rock this night you guys" wooed Isabella.

soon, everyone joined the makeshift stage they had made out of the living room, the lights dimmed, the music loud, the fireplace giving them the warmth they needed and the booze giving them the heat and slowly stripping them of their consciousness.

isabella too, for once wanted to let loose especially because of all the negative vibes she experienced today. She was probably the most drunk after Ava.

noah and Daniel helped her stand on her feet as she danced her heart out even though they were equally as drunk.

matthew holding onto Olivia for support as he was close to passing out.

the only half-conscious ones now were Ryle and Mia. They were still having fun, now let loose of the awkward tension from before. they were laughing together as they watched everyone trip, and do all sorts of crazy things they would never do sober.

mia already pulled her camera out, recording Noah and Matthew twerking together while Olivia and Ava threw tissue papers at them instead of cash. at one point they thought driving out to get some vodka was a good idea so they took out the huge couch cushions and rode them to the kitchen while intimitiating traffic sounds.

it was a hilarious night, mia had ordered some takeout to sober everyone down to minimise the effects of the hangover. She also ordered the ingredients for her famous hangover smoothie.

once they were all a little dried out and starving, Mia and Ryle bought out boxes of beautifully packed up boxes of pasta and risottos. it was a group favourite so she knew what everyone liked. She gave them each a glass of lemon water along with it knowing they were all going to thank her the next morning.

after stuffing themselves full and sobering up a little they decided to continue the party but with less booze now.

"we should totally play truth or dare" suggested Ava, still very much buzzed but excited nonetheless.

"oh yeah I dont mind" agreed Matthew, everyone giving in after a few comments about the game being childish.

"Okay Mia, you start," said Olivia, clearly wanting to poke Mia since she knew how much she hated the game.

Rolling her eyes Mia agreed and chose truth. After about a minute of choosing truths for her, they all landed on one thing they were curious to know. Mia was an amazing friend but she was uptight about a lot of things. Especially her love life, the only person who knew anything was Isabella and that was also only because she was present when Mia broke up with her first boyfriend, that's how their bond was created.

"is there someone you like who is in the room right now?" asked noah

Mia froze, she didn't know what to say. She could say no but that might give Ryle the image that she didn't like him and if she said yes its going to be too obvious for him. Today isn't the only time with awkward interactions. he knows, she knows, and almost everyone does but they love teasing these two indirectly.

"uh, yeah" mia nodded, shifting a little as she cleared her throat sipping on her cocktail later

"Who is it, who is it" Ava jumped up excitedly

"hey, one question only" Mia rolled her eyes tiredly

"fine okay Matthew it's your turn" said Ava

"Okay, I'll choose to dare."

"Okay I got this, I dare you to go up to the attic and record a dance for 4 minutes," said Mia

"the attic? why there?" Matthew questioned

mia leaned in closer to him, " because there are spiders there" she whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear and they all laughed at Matthews's reaction. he was absolutely terrified of spiders, and despised them.

"you guys are the worst," he said, standing up.

They all just laughed and walked him to the attic giving him song suggestions until they settled on the only dance he knew. Love nwantiti. He was scared but he stayed there and a danced to the song, everyone laughing at his recording as he kept looking over his shoulder and near his feet for the prospect of spiders crawling around him.

everyone was laughing and having fun except for Isabella, Ryle noticed and walked towards her.

"Hey, you've been too quiet all day today. What's wrong?" he inquired

"oh no it's nothing, I'm just exhausted from today's trip" she smiled, lying through her mouth and smiling through her eyes.

"I dont want to believe you, and I don't. if somethings wrong you know you can come to talk right?" he said

"yeah I know Ryle, thanks" Isabella smiled as she patted his arm and walked away

mia noticed the interaction silently until she locked eyes with Ryle and then immediately looked away.

"I can feel them on my body, I hate you guys" Matthew hissed as he looked at everyone annoyed but deep down everyone knew he wasn't really mad.

"Okay guys, it's 2 am I think we should call it a night. We've got a long day ahead of us" said Mia, everyone nodding in sync, exhausted after tonight's fun events.

"Who's gonna clean up though? I don't think we would have time in the morning" asked Ava.

"Oh that's okay I'll do it" Mia said with a smile, the least drunk out of all of them.

"No girl are you crazy, it's a mess you can't do it alone" said Olivia with a frown.

"I'll help her out" volunteered Ryle, already moving his feet towards the living room.

isabella nudged Mia and whispered in her ear "Take your chance" and walked along with the rest of the group waving goodbye to Mia.

mia walked to the living room, seeing Ryle already on the job. he was picking up the pasta boxes and cleaning off the wrappers of chips from the table.

"Hey, thanks for volunteering" Mia smiled at Ryle helped him with the boxes and went over to the kitchen to throw them in the bin. She came back with a cloth to clean up the table when Ryle bent over to help her out by taking it from her hand. He was right beside her and he straightened himself, looking at Mia.

"hey listen, I need to say something" he said

"What's up?" Mia asked with a smile even though the proximity made her nervous.

"I want to say that you have done enough for all of us so why don't you get some rest and let me do the cleaning hm?" ryle suggested

"what? no, I'm not letting you clean up alone" Mia frowned and shook her head

"I'm not asking Mia, you have to rest. you're getting pale and I know it's not long before you get sick if you don't rest" Ryle said, this wasn't what he originally wanted to say but he couldn't go through with it. nervous, just like Mia.

but something about tonight was making Mia crave him. maybe it was the alcohol, the atmosphere, the corridor situation, everything in her screamed at her to just throw herself at him.

"oh you're stubborn aren't you" Ryle rolled his eyes when she didn't say anything, he grabbed her arms and just as he was about to turn her around and direct her to the stairs, the camera which quietly sat on the table, clicked.

no one touched it, there was no timer, yet it clicked. both Ryle and Mia looked at it with a suspicious look. wondering if they just heard it but then it clicked again.

"what the fuck?" said Ryle.

mia picked the camera up and kept it in the case, leaving it on the couch.

"leave it, go to your room. now," said Mia, remembering Isabella's look when she saw the camera.

"i am not going alone, you're coming with me" Ryle stated as he grabbed her wrist and took her with him, he walked her to her room.they both stood outside, silently. knowing that there is something they want to say but are compelled not to.

"um, goodnight ryle" initiated mia

"yeah goodnight Mia," Ryle said with a smile as he leaned in to hug her

surprised by the hug, Mia let out an 'oh' before hugging him back. th hug lasted for a while. it was as if they were silently saying everything they wanted through the hug.

"I should get going," Ryle said as he pulled away. mia nodded and watched him walk away from her, once again.

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals || send me "Good boy/girl" for my muse's reaction || accepting!

" Good boy " from Cain, the grandfatherly approval way

they're standing outside the old ranch house with it's barn in the back and rather large shed to the side. there's enough room for a garden between it and the house itself. now? it's a weed farm and that's about it. in the distances, there's woods and from what he was told? a lake somewhere that the former owner made by stopping a natural spring that flows into the area. the whole place has certainly seen some better days. looks like it could use a lot of work to bring it back to where it once was. decades upon decades ago. but there's charm to it. potential. and most of all it's safe. tucked away out of sight from the main road. takes a little bit of a drive down a dirt path to get there. gotta swing open a rusty old gate and keep on going.

but?

it's theirs. something the family who owned it was all too happy to get rid of when dean paid cash. he's not gonna say where he got it from. or how long he'd been saving it. or how much it was. was pennies on the dollar they let it go for. leaves him with a little more than the usual six bucks to his name and a plethora of unmentionable credit cards to put behind their elbow grease. yeah, he got what he could afford. pretty damn awesome though. in his book. and it'll give them something to work on. to build. together. sam helped him settle on the place. sam truly helped in more ways than one. and dean couldn't be any more grateful. because..

green eyes glance at cain's profile and dean sees he's smiling. when the other meets his gaze? dean's smiling too. then his chin tucks towards his collar and he looks ahead again. "it's time to get him out of that bunker for good. maybe take a little less jobs, too." he brushes the back of his hand against the tip of his nose. then stuffs it back in his pocket. "we stay there less and less but it's back to motel rooms and anywhere we can be other than there. gives him nightmares. anxiety. me, too. too much bad's happened there and i don't want him living in anything that hurts. this is ours but sometime soon? it'll be everyone else's who needs it.."

'good boy...' cain's voice holds a heavy amount of pride in it as they stare ahead at the place. he brought him here before he mentioned to cas what was going on. wanted him to see it. to approve. those words? tell him he was right. he made the decision. and it stuck and it was good and this is going to be the best thing that's ever happened for them. aside from him getting cas back.

[starlessskies94]

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?

Pairing: Joel Miller x OC

Notes: HEYYYYY Guess who's back??!! It me!! I just want to say a HUGE thank you to all you lovely readers; the support for this story has been unreal and I'm eternally grateful for it; I literally couldn't even put it into words. I'm doing a lot better now and I'm in a much better head space and ready get back into the wonderful world of this story. I have slightly changed a sentence in chapter 11 (The flashback of winter) just to include Ada's medical knowledge because it was bugging me that I missed it the first time. It's just a little change and it doesn't really change the chapter in any. It was just something I needed to change from a writers POV if that makes sense. Anyway thank you for sticking with me for so long; you incredible people make my day with your support/comments etc… its readers like you that really keep me motivated to continue writing so thank you for that.

I hope you enjoy this chapter and it doesn't disappoint as it's taken me a while to get back into the swing of things so hopefully I'm not too rusty and it's not a let down. Love yous lots hope you enjoy the chapter ❤️

Chapter Fifteen

They’d been driving for what felt like hours and they were running out of road. Tommy had managed to follow Joel’s tracks from the gate, although at times it had been difficult with the rain washing most of them away. Eventually they followed their way out towards the ski lift outpost; only to be greeted with disappointment when they found the place empty. There were signs of life however; muddy boot and hoof prints dried to the floor from the storm that had now passed. The crumbs of half eaten carrots litter the ground and open cans of stew left scattered along one of the tables near the recently lit fire pit. Dina moved to inspect it; taking a hold of the spoon left in the pan, both stuck together by the burnt remains of the leftover stew sticking to the bottom of it.  

“Well; at least we know he was definitely here.” Dina joked awkwardly trying to lighten the mood a little. But Tommy didn’t see the funny side; his nostrils flaring in frustrated anger as he stomped forward kicking at the table, sending the empty cans sputtering across the floor. 

“Goddamn it!” He yelled. The sound echoing through the dead quiet. Ada and Dina both flinched at the outburst. The older woman moved towards him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder in a feeble attempt to calm him. 

“Taking it easy Tommy.” She tried but he threw his shoulder aggressively, shrugging her away as he whipped around on his heel to face her. “Easy?!” He barked. “We keep just missing him, how the fuck are we supposed to find to him when he had a two day head start?!” 

Ada signed deeply trying to ignore the sting of Tommy’s spurn. She knew he didn’t mean it. He was tired. They all were. And frustrated and worried about Joel. It was hard not to lose your temper at the situation; especially one that was more of less of their own making. She and Tommy blamed themselves for basically driving Joel away from Jackson in the first place. Even now Ada was rerunning their last conversation over and over again in her head. Her guilt twisting in both her stomach and tightening within her chest at all the things she could’ve said instead. But that kind of thought would get her nowhere now. She needed to focus on the here and now. And the only thing that mattered was bringing Joel home. 

She took another breath; her eyes searching the room for any more signs that Joel may have left behind. “We just have to be smart about this.” She wondered aloud as she continued looking. “When we move on, we have to be certain we’re headed in the right direction.”

“And how the hell are we supposed to do that?! Huh?” Tommy scoffed bitterly, throwing his hands up in defeat. “We don’t even know where Joel’s going!”

She turned back towards her brother in law; her mind scrambling desperately for an idea or a lead. Her eyes staring down intensely at the floor before glancing back up at Tommy. “Well maybe he’s going back to Boston? You talked about your time in the QZ right?” She offered hopefully. Tommy’s lip curled in disdain at her idea; pacing back and forth. 

“I told him but that don’t mean he listened.” He dismissed. “And I doubt he’d head back home to Texas… he knows there’s nothing there anymore. I’ve been, I’ve seen it. The house is wrecked and it’s been picked clean.” 

The room fell silent at Tommy’s condescending tone as Ada bit her lip to keep from saying anything that might just aggravate the situation. Her eyes glancing across towards Dina who was looking around the back of the room; obviously trying to keep out of the way. Ellie had stayed by the door at first but now was kneeled down behind the remains of the cafe bar; pulling through the drawers and cabinets. Throwing away any junk that didn’t aid in her search for Joel. Her heart ached as she watched her. The teen hadn’t uttered a word since leaving Jackson. It was clear even now that she blamed herself for everything, she was so tired of this. The Fireflies had caused them nothing but grief and anger ever since she’d met them. Even years later, after the fuckers had disbanded they were still tearing apart her family and she despised them for it. 

The thought made her pause for a moment. Wait…the Fireflies…Joel's letter; her stomach dropped at the realization.

“Then he’s going after the Fireflies!” Dina announced, speaking her thoughts before she could voice them herself. Ada offered the girl a broken smile in spite of herself, a wave of relief that at least someone was on the same page as her.  But once again…Tommy only scoffed bitterly at the suggestion. 

“And why the hell would he go after the people that tried to kill him?!” He spat, pulling a face at Dina as she backed down to sit on the one the couches. Her head hung in shame like a child that had just been scolded. Ada’s blood was beginning to boil now at his attitude. She stomped over towards her brother in law; standing toe to toe with the man. Her dark eyes staring him down as her patience was beginning to wear thin. 

“Think about it, everything goes back to them for him.” She explained trying to keep herself calm. “I told him what happened and what he did to save Ellie. But he still couldn’t get his head around exactly who the fireflies were and what they meant.” She took a breath clenching her fists by her side, almost daring Tommy to shoot her down again. But the man just scoffed in her face and damn if she wasn’t tempted to punch the condescending bastard in the nose all over again!

 “Great! That’s just fucking great! He’s going after the Fireflies which means he could be anywhere by now! We don’t know where the fireflies were even headed!” 

“Yes we do! You said you got word they were in Seattle.”

“Rumors, Ada, I heard rumors. Nothing concrete. And it don’t matter anyway, that was between me and a few of the boys on lookout. I never even told Joel about it!”

Okay, now Ada was getting pissed with him. She trembled with anger; her eyes wide and nostrils flared as she once again stood toe to toe with Tommy. Her fist somehow managed to unclench as she instead pointed her sharp finger into his chest; her voice quivering. “Well I don’t see you coming up with any ideas!” She yelled into his face.” You just keep shooting down everyone else’s!”

“Because I’m trying to make sure that we know where we’re headed. We can’t go running in any damn direction, just hoping we stumble into Joel by accident.” They were practically nose to nose now; almost growling at each other like challenging wolves about to snap at each other throats for the kill. Eyes blazing with anger and frustration that had no outlet except aimed at the person in front of them. 

“She didn’t say we should!” Dina said defensively as she tried to pull them apart. It was a futile attempt however, both were stubborn and both were angrily still glaring at the other. Until Ellie slammed one of the chairs against the floor to grab their attention. 

“For fucks sake enough! God this arguing is getting us nowhere! Everyone just shut the fuck up okay?!” She growled. The room grew quiet again. The tension dissipating as Ellie glared at the both of them, until eventually they backed away from the other. Both awkwardly cowering like wounded animals. Clearly embarrassed of their childish behavior. They glance at one another with an apologetic look in their eyes. They knew  she was right. They were the adults and they were acting like moody teenagers. While the actual teenagers seemed to be the only ones with their heads on straight. Ellie took a breath as everyone turned to look at her. She sighed once again as she gestured to the record book that was left open on the table in front of her. Ellie didn’t know why, she just knew it was Joel who’d left it there. Her eyes running across the writing from happier times. She glanced back at others with tears welling in her eyes. “I know where Joel’s going… he’s heading back to Salt Lake City.” She said with unshakeable certainty. 

“What? You mean back to the hospital? Why the hell would he be going there? The Fireflies quit that place years ago.” Tommy pointed out gently. But Ellie was in no mood to argue anymore; shaking her head defiantly. 

“Put yourself in his place…Joel’s trying to remember things. He wants to get his memory back; if you were him where else would you start?” She explained and in that moment everything clicked into place. 

“Holy shit you’re right. He’s trying to retrace his steps! Ellie you’re a fucking genius!” He beamed, a broken laugh of disbelief leaving him as his eyes lit up.  “Everyone back in the truck, we move now we might be able to catch him up.” 

No one wasted a second as they scrambled to their feet; all four rushing back towards the door and out into the truck. She didn’t know how she knew but she was positive that was where Joel was heading. After all, it was exactly where she had gone for answers herself and it was also the place where mournfully she had lost him all those years ago; perhaps now it would be the place where she finally got Joel back again.

[frankyz287]

The field outside.

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Words: 1139

Date: 1/4/23-1/5/23

>Tw, talk about heavy topics, if not being able to handle please read something else❗️❗️<

>BUT ALSO THIS IS ALL FAKE❗️ idk If I would get taken down if I don't put this but just in case.🗣❗️<

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As a child I remember the times out in the backyard.

On those summer days back in 2006.

The sunny days I spent in my back yard looking at the field that was full of noting but Bugs and snakes.,

The wind blew making the hay like plants flow, making their own dance as she swayed side to side

Back then I was 7, the world was noting more of bigger people who where my parents and other people who they knew

My siblings. Being older taunted and teased me being smaller and weaker then them

I miss those days even if back then they where noting but childhood fun., I miss playing with my Little poney toys. Pretending they where on a big adventure to save the Queen...

Those days are gone.

Noting but distant memories. Somthing I think of when I'm on those summer days now, wasting my time with whatever shit I had

The days where I was. Could be happy...and not some stupid smoker 23 year old,

I miss the days where I could run inside the house hearing my mother in the kitchen with the music in the background...making lunches of sandwiches with some Chips for a side and some juice to wash it down with...

Those days. Looking back where noting but a normal day...instead of the days I long being a young child...who knew noting but her toys.,

I walk down the dirt road I knew to well from my mother sending me and my brother out to the store. I road in the Red wagon we owned. He use to pull my up and down the hill...

I walk past the woods that we use to make tree forts in. Forts that would fall apart in second of being done with them

I look around at my surroundings making sure I didn't fall in that hole that was never fix. I still can hear my father mutters of "that damn hole" every time we ran over it

I finally hit the good old mail box...the thing we all made together. Our hand prints on it, faded but still there...purple was my color...my sister was yellow and my brother was green...dad was red and mom was blue,

I rubbed my bigger figures past my then baby ones.

I soon walked away from it and walked to the house infornt of it. A old wooden house with yellow colors and white frames on it.

It been years since I came here..

not since mom passed...

The old path of different colored and sized circled stones where was much the same as normal.

The summer night air picked up making the Windchimed ring its bell I remembered well.,

the swinging seat was in the same place it was when I left it. The changes that held it in place where Rusty and almost ready to snap after years of being alone. Pasting the winter to fall, the rain and sun...

Once I got to the door, my feet felt weird missing the welcome rugged that use to be there...silly but I remember my bear feet touching it after I played outside for hours.

Even tho I'm in my shitty sport shoes it still feels off...

I rummaged around in my pocket until I got the key out, I put it close to the looked door and turned it, hearing the unclicking sound and soon the sounds of a squeaky door that use that was always update when my father was around,

I Step into the house....it looked the same. The Big boxy TV with the recliner that my dad use to lay in his work uniform watching whatever was on while he drank his "dad juice" he put it as even when my brother told me it was beer.

I could hear my mother from the kitchen telling me to take my shoes off since "I don't want dirty Floor prints."...

I took my shoes off putting them alone on some plastic flooring we used. It was dusty with thick dark Grey on the black plastic..., I closed the door behind me turning my phone Flash light on missing the cream colors I was met with normally.

I miss the sound of the TV on and the music playing while my mom cleaned.

I walked in more looking at the tints of Old toys in the living room by the bricked fireplace., I could see old dolls. Ponies and half coloring books. Blocks and some stuffed animals that haven't been touched in years,

I looked up the stairs that where only to the left of me. I saw the marks that where left behind the photos that year nailed their for years. Baby to middle school photos...small ones of holidays where gone and in some boxes I wish I had found before I did this.

Remembering the times me and my siblings would sit and play on the also Carpeted Stairs. Our cheeks or arms getting imprints from it once we got bored.

I walked more into the kitchen. The Fridge was empty but the Magnets and a few photos of my parents. Young and in love, a few colored in lion king pictures from our coloring books. Some colors where perfect and others where just scribbles called art.

I can remember being a "little helper" in the kitchen when it came to baking. Licking the frosting or eating the chocolate chips that where left over from making cookies...,

I remember my mother talking to me but what those conversations where of I can't remember. Just being more onto the Sugar my little body craved so much back then.

The house smell was noting but dirt and Rusty stuff and possibly mold.

I wish I listened to my mother more.

I look out of the small window that was above the sink, a window my mom would yell out to use for. Either for use getting to close to the now wilted down into the Soil by now. Or it was dinner time.

I look out to see the field I use to fear. Bugs and snakes where somthing that younger me couldn't handle well, but tonight

Was different...

And this leads me to now. A sad 23 year old who is writing on the counter that was full of dust as well, this doubting people would see it or care for it..but I need somewhere to write down my thoughts. But this is getting to long isn't it...

But if someone does find this...then im already dead.

I'm sorry.

I'm in the fields I feared at one point. If you want to call the cops to tell them their a rotting cropes outside 8 feet away from where your standing possibly.

I wasn't murdered...

I just missed my family...

I just wanted to meet them again...

------

Uhm, so i hope you enjoyed this shorter story then my normal ones but I just felt sad about getting older and just made a quick story.

[cappadocius]

Why most liminal things on the Internet aren't actually liminal

Something that is 'liminal' is neither here nor there, it exists between one distinct quantum state and another. In cultures with distinct "adulthood" rituals, a youth that has matured but has not undergone that ritual is in a liminal state; they are clearly not a child anymore, but they are also not yet an adult, they exist in a strange non-place that is neither, or maybe it's both. A road can be liminal, it exists merely to connect Point A to Point B, but once it acquires an identity as its own entity, it stops being liminal, it's a place in and of itself. The famous American highway Route 66 is not, in any way, liminal - people go TO Route 66, it's no longer just the space between (capital-S) Spaces. Crossroads are traditional liminal spaces, given magical qualities, right up until you get a permanent market or settlement or some other distinguishing feature there - when it becomes a place.

The popular internet phenomenon "The Backrooms" starts as liminal, yes. It's an endless series of identical hallways and corridors, of multi-use spaces not currently in use. But it's not *compelling* because it's liminal. There are hallways and no-places everywhere in our lives and we don't think anything of them - we're not supposed to think anything of them because they're just the space between.

The reason people make videos and wikis and stories about The Backrooms is because they're eerie. Mark Fisher tells us that The Eerie is when we encounter something that lacks what we (usually subconsciously) consider integral to that thing. A playground at night, creaking with the sound of rusty swings moving in the breeze, is eerie because it lacks the children who should be making the swings move; it lacks the children that make a playground a playground. An unrecognizable sound in the dark is eerie because we know sounds come from things, but we cannot perceive the thing!

The Backrooms would be a little eerie just because we expect something that looks like it to be filled with people and activity. The multiuse spaces should show evidence of previous or upcoming use. The hallways would see people going somewhere, and The Backrooms are almost entirely empty. But again, we encounter empty hallways all the time and we don't typically make endless Internet content about them. The BIG eeriness about The Backrooms is that they lack the reference points that define liminality. Within the space, you have neither a here to go back to, nor a there to go towards; it is definitely and defiantly "between" but it's between nothing. That's the lack that made The Backrooms eerie, and that eeriness is what gave us the little frisson that made them compelling.

As the Internet added more and more lore, more and more things, more and more monsters, as The Backrooms became a THING, it actually lost a good deal of its liminality, and therefore its big source of eeriness. The Backrooms was now a place to go, a location to do things in, a point in our mental landscape. As it lost its eeriness, people began adding monsters as a jolt of the Weird (another Mark Fisher term, this time referring to something that is incongruously present when it should not be) but they quickly became another identifying feature of The Backrooms, another nail keeping it a place with an identity.

Lacking the frisson, people began looking for other things that made them feel like The Backrooms did. And because they knew The Backrooms was 'liminal', they began calling anything that made them feel this way liminal as well, when the feature that made them feel this way was the eeriness. And so, empty preschools or abandoned malls (places that are innately places and therefore not at all liminal but are eerie because they lack the noise and presence of humanity that we strongly associate with those places) started getting called 'liminal' despite a complete lack of liminality.

[rosepettles]

Ad Astra Per Aspera (deanwinchesterxfemaleOC)

This story contains allusions and discussions of SA, Supernatural typical violence, and trauma, Please read with caution <3

 The dim lights of the cement walled room flickered with a consistent hum, similar to the hum of the lights overhead inside of a library or bank. Regardless of familiarity the sound provided her, she  wanted nothing more than to be back inside of her own home, tucked away in her own bed which was much more comfortable than the broken in and stained army cot she was situated on. Over time she had come to notice another very constant sound, the mummering of her captors. She could constantly hear them speaking, laughing, joking, living as if she wasn’t slowly losing her will to live. With a sudden ‘boom!’ the mumbling stopped. She flinched at the noise regardless of her ability to mobilize her body. The mumbling turned to yelling, she could only assume the group's kingpin was the one barking orders. Without a second longer to process her thoughts were sharply interrupted by a gunshot ringing throughout whatever hellscape she was stuck in. She wanted to scream, hoping that the shot came from some kind of law enforcement, however no noise would rise from her vocal cords which she had practically shredded in her early days of captivity. She can no longer remember how long she had been there. After what she estimated to be around ten shots rang out, the yelling had completely ceased. She laid there, in the earth shattering silence waiting for the shooters to get to her next. The door swings open on its rusty hinges with a high pitched screech. Two masculine figures emerge from the shadows of the dim hallway. The two broad shouldered men stood in the doorway with guns drawn in her direction, however they were quick to aim towards the floor as they took in her restrained state, little did they know her desire for them to raise their guns again. 

“Please…” she spoke with a gritty rasp, pointing eye contact at their now lowered guns. The slightly shorter man spoke,

“Holy shit,”

 The slightly taller man took a timid step towards her cot, making it a point for her to see him holster his weapon.  

“Hi, Oliva? My name is Sam, are you hurt? We’re  are here to help you,” Oliva; was that her name? She ran it through her mind, only resulting in vague familiarity. It had then dawned on her just how detached from reality she had become in an attempt to provide herself some sick assemblance of mercy. She must've been staring at him because he continued to ask her questions. 

“Can you hear me?” She nods at him, still shocked by the kind, human, presence in front of her. The shorter man began to look annoyed, his eyes continuously scanning the room behind him. 

“Sam! We don’t have time for you to coddle her, move. Your. ass,” Sam turned to his companion with an incredulous look on his face. 

“I’m not “coddling” anyone Dean, I'm being gentle with someone who's been hurt. You could learn a thing or two,” Sam scoffed before turning back to Oliva. Dean stood back with his eyebrows furrowed into a frown, his strong arms now crossed in front of his chest. Sam pulled a pocket knife from his jeans, bringing it towards the ropes binding her hands and feet. His eyes trailed to the pool of blood underneath her left foot, a clear slice had clearly traveled its way through her achilles tendon.

“I just need to get rid of these,” he paused a moment before sighing, “Even though he’s being a douche about it, Deans right, we need to get you out of this shit hole asap,” he spoke in a more hurried tone than that of what was previously used. Oliva nodded given that there wasn’t much she could do in this situation. Once her restraints were removed from her atrophied limbs Sam gestured towards her with an awkward yet caring smile. 

“May I?,” she nods with hesitation once again before Sam places his forearms under her thin body, lifting her into the air in order to begin their journey outside.  Dean rolled his eyes at the caution in his brother’s face as he haphazardly stomped through the, now door-less, door frame. As they made their way to the car Dean took notice of the glass-like woman in his brother’s arms, Although her wounds weren’t freshly given, they appeared painful and driven by scorn. 

“Don’t let her get blood on baby,” Dean muttered to Sam just before he was able to climb into the back seat with Olivia; In return Sam shot Dean a stern look into the rearview mirror. Olivia was sitting slumped  against the cool leather of the car, allowing the material to relieve the burning of her shot nerves. However, her comfort did not last long as the road they were driving on was filled with potholes and uneven pavement. Oh what a joy it was to be driving in the middle of nowhere. 

The  juvenile talking  started up again. The joy throughout the house signified, to Olive, that her suffering was about to resume. The piercing laughs brought only fear to her prolonged hell. She prepared herself as the janky door she was trapped behind creaked open, cobwebs being broken in the process. How long had that door been closed in front of her? A lanky man with luscious blonde hair, styled to the side as if he were dressed for a formal event, his eyes were brown, although lacking the once familiar shine in them. Before she could stand up and hide her back was shoved against the rough surface of her army cot. 

With a particularly deep pothole she was jolted awake by her back bumping the car seat. With a deep breath she opened her forcefully squinted  eyes. Sam watches her with caution as she wearily looks around. Sam gives her a tight lipped, sympathetic smile. It was pointless for him to pretend that he knew what she had gone through but he was able to empathize at least. Samuel Winchester was certainly no stranger to nightmares. Sam leaned over and grabbed an old, but unopened, bottle of water that had fallen beneath the driver’s seat. He extended his hand towards her weary form . 

“It might be a little warm, fair warning,” Oliva accepted the bottle from his hands, returning his previously given tight lipped smile. She could lie to herself and say that she was super comfortable around the winchesters and that she enjoyed their company. She really wanted to feel safe, she would do anything to feel safe again.  She allows herself to sit up a tad bit straighter, no longer feeling the heavy pull of sleep. She looked over to the rather large man who was staring at her like she may break down at any minute. 

“Where are we headed?” Her voice was so soft and subtle that Sam would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking at her. Dean had apparently heard her on account of Sam making him turn his music down, much to Dean's chagrin. 

“Bunker,” Dean deadpanned without taking his seemingly serious eyes off the road. Sam took the opportunity to harshly flick the back of Dean's head by reaching an arm around the headrest. With a curt ‘ow!’ emitting from Dean, sam turned to olivia who was slowly sipping on her warm water. 

“He means our house. It’s our house. Please don’t worry about him, he’s just being a prick,” she had no other response than a brief nod. Nobody spoke for the next few hours, somewhere within that time slot Dean turned his music back up. 

*At the Bunker*

Sam and Dean assist her inside and help her find a chair within the kitchen. Dean made a B-line for the fridge to grab himself a beer. Sam had left her side to go grab a first aid kit for her wounds. The shorter brother pulls out a chair besides her, sitting down as if he didn’t see her. She was terrified of him. She knew that he was the kind of man who could spill blood with no consequences, she saw not only discomfort but suspicion in his eyes. She decided to take the friendly approach. As she learned, compliance and acting is better than death. She aimed her eyes to the ground and tucked her knees to her chest, allowing her arms to hug them closer. 

“Thankyou,” Den swivled his head to the side with an unamused look. He took another swig of his beer. 

“For what?” Olivia wasn't sure how to respond to that properly. 

“F-for saving m-” Dean cut her off by putting his hand up, palm facing her face. 

“I didn’t have a say in the matter, that was all sammy. And besides I wouldn’t take it personally, It’s our job,” Olivia knew she wasn’t special in regards to her rescue but having those words said to her with such indifference sent a ping to her chest. Samuel returned to the kitchen and set the large plastic box on the scratched up table. He taps his older brother’s shoulder with the back of his hand. 

“Up,” Dean made a subtle noise of annoyance but knew it would be no use to argue. As Sam sits down he scoots his chair slightly closer in order to get a good look at her injuries. She, by visceral reaction, hugged her knees closer. He looked at her with pity, not the sympathy he was trying to pass it for.

“Hey, I know you don’t know us very well, and I understand that you are afraid right now but if these wounds won't get clean you could get sick or worse…please?” Dean rolled his eyes at how gentle Sam's speech was. She slowly and gently unfurled herself and allowed his access to her pathetic shape. The worst surface wounds were the ones on the soft part of her thighs, crescent shaped scars were accompanied by what looked like an empty space for a blade. However where they ran into serious complications was her ankle. That solid slice through her achilles looked no better in the light than it did in the dark. 

“I know what you're going to say but I really think we should take her to the hospital, some of these injuries neither of us could fix,” Dean attempted to counter Sam's statement.

“Bullshit, she’ll be fine the same way we always are, just fix it like normal,” Sam’s jaw nearly touched the ground due to the speed at which he began to argue.

“Dean. Her foot is hanging on its last threads. We cannot fix anything like that without making it worse …No matter what you say I am taking her. Dean immediately stepped in front of the front door.

“Sammy don’t be stupid! You’ll get caught and then I’ll have to bust your dumbass out of the clink, I am not putting up with that!"By the time dean was finished Sam already had oliva in his arm again, this time she had been gently wrapped in a soft blanket that was set on the couch.

Time skip lol sorry

It’s been about a month since the Winchesters found her in that building, still no lead as to who or what organized the whole thing. However, Olivia didn’t seem to mind not knowing anything because amongst all of the nightmares and anxieties, She felt happy and safe…with Sam at least. She could tell Dean was warming up  or, at the very least,  becoming more accustomed to her presence at least. One morning she had found herself stumbling into the kitchen with an oddly uneven gate,  after a particularly traumatic nightmare.  She was careful not to turn on any light with the exception of the dull yellow bulb that resided above the sink.  She opened the cabinet above her head before attempting to stand on her toes to reach a glass. The post-surgery brace that surrounded her foot made it nearly impossible to do, however. She retracted her attempts and surrendered herself into using a red solo cup from a stack of four Dean had left on the counter. She made her way to the fridge and filled her sad red cup with off brand apple juice, which she happily sipped on.  She was almost finished with her drink when the main kitchen light was turned on, she jumped in response. 

“sorry bout that…what're you drinking out of that plastic shit for?'' Dean groggily wandered into the kitchen, already dressed and prepared for the upcoming day. She looked down at her feet  to avoid his eyes. 

“I can’t reach the glasses.” she said to the ground as opposed to the man standing before her.  He grumbles as he moves towards her position near the cabinet.

“You could've asked,” he slightly complained as he reached beside her to grab a glass and handed it to her. She accepted the glass despite having no use for it anymore.

“Thank you, but I don’t need it anymore…thank you though.” she shyly smiled at him. He nodded his head towards the fridge.

“You could help me get a drink then, can you reach the milk?” she walked and turned to face the now open fridge. Before she could admit that she couldn’t, Dean stepped behind her to reach up for it, placing a hand on her backside.

“It’s ok I got it hun.” he whispered to her. Her blood ran cold, dean never spoke like that. The realization hit her like a freight truck, she froze. He moved her away from the fridge with a gentle pull of her waist before cornering her against the door of white appliance. 

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted us to get along liv?” She tried to move but his heavy arms and rough hands wouldn’t allow that. She knew what he was now, he no longer made any attempt to hide it. 

“I've missed you liv…you really thought you could live here with whoever these punks are?” he teased, stroking a warm, stolen hand down her cheek.  She flinched away as a tear hurried  down her face.  His feet inched closer to hers, he forced deans steel-toed boots on the hard plastic of her brace. She made an attempt to scream only to have a hand placed over her mouth.  She side eyed the glass she had gotten out that was now sitting on the floor beside the fridge. She moved her un injured foot to move the glass. Whilst her trapped leg was attempting to move, the false impression of Dean was busy with his teeth and lips against her skin and his fingers toying with the top of her waistband. She inched her foot just close enough for her to hear the clear glass clatter against old tiles. She silently thanked whoever may have been listening. The mimics eye’s shot up to Oliva’s face with anger filling his irises, a grim smile spreading through his cheeks. Upon hearing the ringing of never used glass, Sam and Dean both shot out of their beds and into the kitchen, both of them accompanied by a firearm. At first glance the men were confused…why would Oliva have a man with her? Since when did she ever have guests? Oliva’s eyes locked with her friend’s hazel eyes. Sam could see the discomfort in her eyes and acted as quickly as he stormed through the doorway. 

“Hey!” he shot his gun toward the cupboard in a means to scare the man away, disgust laced both of the men's faces as a wild eyed dean turned to face them. 

“Sammy?! What the hell?!” he exclaimed using Dean's nickname to his advantage. Although they weren’t fooled it surely riled them up.  

Dean rushed forward, having a knack for fighting first and asking later. He grabbed his double by the collar of his flannel shirt and hooked him across the jaw. Oliva took the opportunity to inch off to  the way to the other side of the kitchen, pulling up her now falling pant waistband. She huddled herself into a corner behind the kitchen table. Once the double was subdued, Sam wasted no time putting a bullet through its chest, leaving a scorching hole in its wake. Dean stood looking at the creature as Sam rushed to his cowering friend. He crouched down to meet her distant eyes. 

“oliva..It’s gone. I got it, you're safe.” he tried to comfort but she made no assimilation of his words. Dean strode over to the pair, his eyes falling on his brother saying hushed conformations of safety. Dean reached down and wiped his palms on his pajama pants, not attempting to break the thick tension formed by his out of place presence by the pair. 

“ I’m going to run out to get some cleaning supplies…do either of you want anything?” Sam stopped his murmurs and side eyes his brother at his out of touch question. 

“No dean..'' Sam grumbled, immediately turning his face back to Oliva. Oliva paid the true dean no attention, just as he expected. Dean ran to the store and upon his arrival he spotted small trinkets that reminded him of Oliva. 

A few weeks into staying with the brothers they had made it clear that she was free to decorate her room as much or as little as she’d like.

“We have plenty of rooms, seriously it’s no issue,” Sam said with a slight chuckle in his voice over her excessive conformations. Day by day her room slowly filled with small stuffed animals and notebooks she used to write and study in. As much as Sam and Dean dreaded encountering the things they had to, Oliva still owned some of her childish whimsey for the supernatural and the fantastical.  While the Winchesters were figuring out how much salt they needed to buy, Olivia was researching their cases to find the new main character of her short stories. She found one case about supposed imaginary friends who helped kids. That story consisted of the human main character being herself, and what she would have loved to experience as a kid. Not that her childhood was awful, she just felt it would be nice to have a friend who would always have her best interest in mind. It’s easy to say that Dean did not love the idea of her romanticizing their lifestyle, although Sam enjoyed reading her works when he was allowed. 

Dean walked through the isles, picking up a pack of colored pens and placing them in the basket before he could tell himself off. By the time Dean got back home he saw Sam standing against the kitchen table, his head in his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose. Dean set his supplies on the table, quickly stealing away the bright pens from on tops of the bleach and baking soda. As Dean went to leave, Sam placed a hand on his chest, restricting him from leaving the room yet.

“Just a warning…she has no interest in seeing you right now so just please be vigilant and be careful not to scare her.'' Dean understood and walked away, sliding the book of pens under her door before entering his own room and deciding to get dressed for the day as it was now around four in the morning. Dean made his way to the library to begin looking for books on protection spells and items.  From the library Dean could hear his brother speaking outside of Olivia’s room trying to reason for her. 

“I-i refilled your cup with coffee if you want it… I'll be in the library if you need me.” he lightly knocked his knuckles against the wooden door before walking away to meet his brother. 

“what are you still doing awake? I figured you'd be sleeping till dinner as usual.” Dean made an exasperated face at his brother..

“How much of a dick do you really think I am? Our friend was just attacked, Sammy! Obviously I’m going to try to help from as much distance away as necessary.” he argued, clearly distraught by the whole situation. Sam's eyebrows peaked at the term with which Dean used to refer to olivia. 

“ not that there's anything wrong with it but since when are you two friends? You act like you hate her.'' Dean couldn’t truly answer because he didn’t know why that term came to mind, sammy was right they weren't friends. Dean sighed and rubbed his forehead with exasperation.

“ I don't know Sammy, I just, I don't know… as much as i hate to admit it she’s been here long enough that I've had no choice but to kind of get to know her. She’s a sweet girl but she doesn’t deserve our shit or whatever curse hangs over everyone we’ve ever met. But it’s clear y'all get on well…if she’s your family then i have no choice…she’s family sammy.” Sam knew his brother was never good at expressing his emotions, he would put Dean in therapy against his will if he could. Samuel really appreciated the honesty from his older brother, it was always a 50/50 chance of dean opening up. Now Sam's only hope was that when the time came that dean would be equally as open with Olivia. However, to Sam, it was always obvious when the dean wanted to express remorse or sympathy. He never upfront spoke his mind but you may find extra food on your plate or the promise of a shotgun on a supply run. His brother was a simple man who wanted nothing more than to protect people and to be appreciated. Once again Sam knew his brother would never admit it but he knew Dean had always wanted to be taken care of by someone with the same amount of concern he wanted to show others. 

It had been days of Oliva holed up in her room, she began to feel more and more disgusting the longer she went without the strength to wash the stolen fingerprints off of her body. She looked around her once tranquil room to see piles of  dirty mugs that once held sweet coffee that has now become sticky sugar residue at the bottom of the cup, as it had quickly become the only thing she’d consume, beside the mugs on her nightstand sat a package of gel pens. She couldn’t sleep. She would close her eyes only to be greeted with a slideshow of the many stolen windows to his empty soul that he had used against her. She didn’t quite know where she was planning on going when she left her room but it didn’t seem as if she had much time to figure it out as she began watching her feet moving without her approval. One thing she did notice, however, was the quiet space that was now replacing her attempted screams in her head. She was safe again. Her brain functioning similar to how it had when she was captive, She was warm and she was content. She watched as her feet moved across the wood to the kitchen. Her body was hungry although she wasn’t craving anything. Sam sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper when Olivia finished her slow journey to the kitchen. Sam eyebrows nearly shot off of his face with how surprised he was at her evening appearance. Did she even know it was evening?  He had not seen his friend in days,

“Hey! How’re you feeling?” He knew it was hardly a question that needed answering, however after knowing Olivia for a while he knew how much of a burden she hated to be. He wanted her to know he didn’t view her any differently, he was her friend, and she deserved to still feel like one. Olivia seemed to take in Sam's presence which received very little reaction. She gave him a small smile that reached nowhere near her eyes. Sam’s eyes secretly raked over her pitiful form, taking in the residue left on her skin from her attacker. His teeth imprinted on her jugular, he could imagine the  fingerprints burned into her hips like the aftermath of a close range explosion, her skin a concrete wall covered in shadows 

“Me and Dean just went shopping, I could make you something to eat if you’d like.” Olivia backed herself behind a door in her spectral world, suddenly she was the one looking through her eyes, staring back at Sam like a lost child. She figured that there was nothing wrong with that, it worked for her when she lived with him, she could be safe again. 

“You know what, that sounds great sammy. Thank You,” she spoke happily, much to Sam's shock. Sam moved to the fridge to scan the groceries. Dean had clearly already been in there, Sam swore his brother was a man akin to a yogi bear. 

Sam watched carefully between spreads of peanut butter as he noticed her become utterly indifferent. He was surprised to see how relaxed she was as  his brother walked in through the door, grunting as he kicked mud off of his boots. Dean's eyes turn sullen at the seemingly in shock woman that sat further into the kitchen. Sam could cut the tension in the room with the butter knife he was holding. 

“Sandwich?” sam asked awkwardly, dean nodded slightly waving to Olivia. Much to deans surprise she waved back, only a little. His heart constricted at the sight of her, he wished sam hadn’t allowed the two of them to get attached. Dean almost wished he had the capacity to kick her to the curb like a puppy that just showed up one day, hell she had the eyes to match. 

“I could eat.” He spoke like a normal, casual Dean. It brought Olivia some solace to see the real dean again. The dean who could care less if she were a victim or not, the Dean who could care less about her being around. After eating dinner  Olivia decided to lay on the couch and rest, watching t.v to pass the time. Sam and Dean stuck around the kitchen to chat. 

“What hell is up with her?” Dean asked, suspicious of their guest’s sudden relaxed appearance.  Sam pursed his lips into a line and sighed. 

“Honestly Dean, I have no idea. She just walked out of her room, she didn’t even say anything. She seems fine to me.” Dean nodded as if he was ,ocking his brother’s obvious observation.

“Yeah no shit, It's weird. Most victims that we deal with don't take monster attacks very well.” They both Walk out to the living room to find a sleeping Olivia. Dean nodded his head towards her but Sam put a hand out, and pulled a blanket off the top of the couch to cover her with.

“just let her sleep. I doubt she’s getting enough,” Dean backed up slightly allowing his brother to get past him to head to bed. 

“Right. Night sammy…” he looked towards Olivia again, “ Night live,” with the final goodbye, he too walked to bed, truing on a lamp in the dark room before fully exiting. The time was roughly 5:00 A.M when dean woke up to use the bathroom. He doesn’t fully know what compelled him but he decided to dip into the living room to check on Olivia. She was tossing ever so slightly in her sleep. He walked over to her quietly, gently placing his rough hands on her shoulders. 

“Oliva…” he whispered to her as he carefully shook her. She opened her eyes although it was clear to him that she was not looking at him, in his eyes she saw someone else's. She wasn’t in the bunker, she was in her prison, lying atop a soiled mattress that god only knows how many other women were laid upon. She didn’t yell out like he expected her to, instead she simply laid back down against the couch and stared ahead to the ceiling.  

“Olivia?” he spoke worriedly, kindly taking a step back. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her knees parted. Dean shifts his gaze around before looking at the lamp on the side table. Moving slowly he turns on the small table lamp, a yellow glow reflecting onto the scrunch faced of the traumatized woman.  He wasn’t ready to help, he truly didn’t think he knew how. He fought things physically, not with chick flick moments. As uncomfortable as he felt he took a seat on the floor, his back pressing against the front of the couch. Dean carefully took Oliva’s hand, slowly enough to give her the time to pull away. She allowed him to take her limp hand. He gripped her cold digits in his warm calloused ones, with a firm squeeze he spoke, he admired her chipped fingernail polish as he did so, it was his favorite color. 

“ I uh, I don’t really know how much of this you’ll hear but I want you to know that you’re safe…I’m sorry that he hurt you…clearly more than either me and Sammy ever knew… I’m not the best at this kind of thing,” he chuckled and continued, “ but you're not stupid so I don’t know why I’m talking to ya like you wouldn’t have known that.”  Word by word the tangled remnants of Oliva’s memories, she can hear dean’s voice slowly breaking through. She felt the strong yet gentle grasp of his hand grounding her, a stray tear slipped down her cheek, she knew she wasn’t supposed to cry but her mind slipped. She wasn’t in the presence of false love like she assumed, she was with Dean…Dean cared, she figured.  He was still rambling as she began to see who was really besides her. Dean feels her shift, he turns his gaze towards her, he cheeks stained in memories and salt.  

“Olivia…are you, uh ok?'' Dean struggled to confirm, suddenly feeling awkward. She weakly nods as she takes the time to truly hear his voice, Dean’s real voice. He rubbed the back of his neck as he weakened his grip on her hand. 

“Would you like water or something?” he asked in a tone suggesting that he’s considering going back to his brash and uncaring nature that he usually exudes. Once again she nods, still safely quiet. He lets go, her skin craving his warmth. He turns around to head back out to the living room with the glass only to find the smallest looking version of his guest facing him, he jacket bundled around her body, edge seems gripped in her uncherished fingers. Dean took a moment to smile at her as if he hadn’t seen her fearful of him as he handed her the glass. A shaky hand reached out to grab the glass from his hands. As much as Olivia’s subconscious was screaming at her about her vicinity to Dean, she took a deep breath as she set the glass down on the counter and gently walked towards Dean with her arms outstretched. Offering the confused man a hug of appreciation . her weak arms barely wrapped around his torso, his hands gripping his flannel robe, she enjoyed that he smelled like beer, car oil, and  3-in-1 soap. He gently put his arms on her back, carefully rubbing up and down. Without letting go of her he asked gently,

“Do ya want to go back to bed?” He made it sound as if he no longer wanted to be the gentle caring man that bought her pens and held her hand. She swiftly shows her head side to side in objection. He immediately backtracked his idea.

“Alright uhhh…hungry?” She furrowed her brows, thinking, before nodding her head against his chest. He carefully pried their bodies apart and looked at her. 

“Let me grab my keys.” She stood right where he had left her before coming back with the baby's keys. He slowly got her outside and into his baby, she’s never sat in the passenger seat before since it was always reserved for sam. Dean eventually drove the two of them to the diner down the road, internally Olivia saw it and thought it was a shit show…it was going to be amazing, or at least that's what the boys have taught her. The pair was sitting in a cold booth at the back of the restaurant, Dean with a black coffee in front of him and an omelet with extra meat, and Oliva with a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with a large vanilla milkshake. Whipped cream was her favorite part. Dean had begun to notice that she became much more childlike as she became more comfortable. Olivia, seemingly out of the blue, looked at dean.

“I can repay you when we get back to the bunker, I-I don’t have my wallet.” Dean held up a hand to signal for her to drop the topic.

“You don’t gotta do  that, we’re good.” Oliva seemed uncomfortable with that conclusion, she looked at him a tad longer before placing a whipped cream covered cherry on his plate, one she was clearly planning on saving for herself. Dean fought a smile, at  the sweet, meaningful gesture, he nodded at her, satisfied. 

This is my first story on here and my first ever fanfic, I hope Y'all liked it, feedback is always appreciated <3

[authorwithissues]

I'm frustrated.... and I feel like furniture.

I've been at this job for 4 months now. I still have a hard time with traffic so I'm still 5-10 minutes late now and then, but otherwise I've got this pretty much down. I mostly know what I'm doing and I'm getting to a decent speed on it too. Our customers know I'm the one to talk to and I'm generally able to supply whatever answers. We're a little busier now so I'm not spending 80% of the day bored out of my mind, but I'm also not slogging through an unreasonable workload. So the work's pretty good.

But the workplace...

I have 4 coworkers. One, I've spoken to once. He sits in the corner farthest from me and is v quiet and works from home half the week so 🤷‍♂️. Another, sits in the cube next to me and she'll chat a bit and ask about my cat, but she's also only in half the week and her lunch is scheduled oddly so I only see her about half the time she is there. We're chill but good. My supervisor sits across from me 5 days a week and he talks at me all day long. And I do mean "at" and not "to". He'll talk and talk about his hobbies, his weekend plans, what he saw on social media, etc. And then there's my manager. He's a private guy, doesn't talk about himself much, but he talks to everyone else about what they've got going on. The guy in the corner he'll quietly chat with all day, he'll check in on the girl next to me, he swings by to talk to my supervisor about anything and everything. He doesn't talk to me.

He'll ask and direct for work stuff which, yeah, is what a manager is supposed to do. But it's rarely positive. And by rarely I mean pretty much never. I was convinced I was going to be fired when my probation was up. I did tell HR that I was frustrated about how he talks to me. He doesn't tell me a bar even exists let alone how high it is until I've apparently failed to clear it. I got scolded because the corner guy made an expensive mistake over the weekend and I??? Didn't catch it???? Apparently I was supposed to be checking and correcting his work???? Because he's apparently bad at it?????????? He's been here for over two years and I'm brand new so 1.) Why is it my job to check his work and 2.) Why would no one tell me it's my job to check his work? and 3.) If he's so consistently bad at this, why hasnt the manager or supervisor stepped in to correct what he's doing wrong????????????? So I got scolded and in my 50 day review it was specifically written down as a miss on /my/ part. I'm still salty about this. I told HR, "I am salty about this." And they must've communicated my frustrations because in my next review he actually said a couple positive things, wonder of all wonders! They're glad I'm here and that I've picked everything up so quickly! I am not on the verge of a firing! And I thought, "Okay! It was probably just a small failure in communication but now that that's been cleared up, we should run smoother :) This will be a Good Job :)"

But it hasn't gotten smoother. Like I said above, the work is fine, but I feel like furniture. My manager will only talk to me about work which. Okay. Not inherently bad. Except. He talks to everyone else about their hobbies their weekends their lives. He comes over to talk to my supervisor about his weekend plans and will stand behind me to talk over my head to him for 10 minutes. I am not invited to join this conversation. I thought, "Well, I've been alone all day for 3 years, my social skills are rusty. I just gotta try harder to catch the social cues and participate more smoothly in conversations with my coworkers is all :)"

But I'm coming to the realization that, yeah, my social skills are rusty, but I'm not completely obtuse. They're not interested in hearing from me. They don't ask me about my hobbies my weekend my life, so I'll bring it up myself. To silence. No response or comment or anything. Okay, so plan b! Engage in my hobbies in a way that would promote engagement, like quilt and sew in the break room and at my desk. The export ladies ask, my coworkers do not. Okay, well let's try plan c! Ask about his hobbies his weekend his life and include a segue into mine. He's excited to talk about his stuff and just steamrolls over any additions I try to make. Okay. Plan d! Just join a conversation! Manager is talking with supervisor over my head again, this time about hiking trails. I make multiple attempts to join. The first one they briefly acknowledge happened before steamrolling along. I keep trying. I keep trying. We're to a point where I have something actually interesting and relevant to contribute and theres a gap so it's perfect! I jump in! And I am furniture. They don't acknowledge or even glance at me, just continue along as if I hadn't spoken at all. I didn't bother finishing the thought I'd started, I just left.

I'm. I'm sad, okay. 3 years of isolation. I knew rejoining daily society was probably going to be a little rough, but I didn't think the people I'd be spending so much of my time with would consider my own life and thoughts just so. Uninteresting as to not even entertain? I don't need to be friends with my coworkers by any means but would the occasional two-sided conversation really be too much to ask?