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emeritusemeritus · 2 months

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Spellbound [Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader]

Title: Spellbound.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader

Timeline: Non-specified, no mention of canonical events but I pictured OOTP as I was writing.

Summary: Sick of how his twin’s devastating crush on you is affecting his Quidditch abilities, George takes matters into his own hands and meddles.

Warnings: Use of a love potion, essentially dubious consent. Pining, crushes, probably minor swearing. Fred’s a love sick puppy. Questionable morality on George’s behalf. Not beta read.

Word count: 2.7k

This was inspired by a lovely Anon request I was sent, original post here. I hope this is what you were looking for, I enjoyed working on this so much! 💙

George Weasley was one half of the infamously disruptive Weasley twins; usually mentioned second and hardly able to be distinguished from his slightly older twin to those that didn't really know him. To those that did, his identifying qualities included being slightly quieter, more patient, more understanding and perhaps more moral... sometimes. Though it was never said aloud, he was the slightly better Quidditch player with a slightly better aim and was arguably more passionate about the game than his twin. He had more focus at least, which was never more obvious than during this season of Quidditch when Fred had been mightily distracted through most of the games, missing bludgers an amateur could have hit and earning more fouls in one season than he had in his entire time on the team. His reason? He had a crush. An almighty crush on you which made him distracted, inattentive, sometimes irritable and almost constantly mopey.

George was perceptive by nature and had picked up on his brother's infatuation not long after it began, noticing that Fred's attention was often pulled away as soon as you'd walk into the great hall or class. Didn't matter that they were in the middle of a conversation or a tactful sale, in you'd walk and out would go Fred's sanity. George couldn't deny that you were pretty, you'd turned his head a few times, not that he'd ever admit that to his brother, but the affect you had on Fred was almost laughable. He was certain he'd seen his brother drool once over you, the hearts in his love-stricken puppy eyes almost making George want to laugh and vomit at the same time.

When he wasn't pining for you in ways George could hardly fathom, Fred was often touchy and sulky at the unrequited nature of his crush. If he saw another bloke talking to you or making you laugh, he'd be insufferable for the rest of the day, shooting daggers at the culprit and threatening under his breath to set off a dung bomb in the unsuspecting lad's dorm.

To make matters worse, you'd started attending Quidditch games regularly when Ron made Keeper in support of your friend and also as support for Hermione so that she wouldn't have to sit alone with her two best friends on the pitch, despite being a Ravenclaw. Many people went to support their friends and as long as they weren’t competing against your house you figured it was fair game to support them. You'd also infrequently started attending practice sessions with Hermione, sitting in the stands or on the side lines where you would spend most of the time studying or drawing. It was a double edged sword for the team if you showed up or not; if you didn't, Fred would mope about and keep checking that you hadn't arrived late during the entire time on the pitch. If you did show, he'd spend the time trying to impress you with comical dives on his broom, outlandish tricks and almost everything exactly fulfilling his actual role to get your attention.

So George came up with a plan. One night when they were restocking the skiving snack boxes and checking on their slow-brewing potions, he'd come up with a plan that was admittedly a little immoral but should surely work. Tensions had risen between the twins after Fred had received another avoidable foul causing them to nearly lose the match and George had walked out of the changing rooms in a huff to start on the restocking, not wanting to hear Fred waxing poetic about how fit you looked in your jumper or how loudly you were cheering for him the few times during the match he'd actually played well.

George was sick of listening to it and it pushed him to a point when his plan seemed to be the only choice.

The next morning George had woken Fred early, dragging his half asleep twin out of bed to get to the Great Hall bright and early, the older of the two still dishevelled from sleep and rubbing his eyes, grumpy to boot.

"Don't see why you're dragging me down at this time, not like they'll run out of food," Fred complained grumpily as he tried to fall into step with George who seemed to be walking at a faster than normal pace down the staircases. About halfway down the staircases, Fred noticed that his jumper was back to front and had fixed it with a huff and a yawn, battling the wool over his wide shoulders.

"Told you, I'm starving," George replied vaguely with a shrug, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he turned away from Fred to conceal it.

They took a seat at the table and once again Fred complained as he saw hardly anyone up yet except for a few Ravenclaws huddled together on the other side, talking in hushed but excited whispers. Fred begrudgingly accepted a glass of pumpkin juice from George and simply looked at the few slices of toast in front of him, his stomach still asleep. So consumed by his tiredness he didn't even notice that George hadn't taken a bite of any food even after five minutes, despite his prior claims of being starving. Fred sat in a gloomy slump at the table, head in his hands and staring down at the table, if his eyes were open at all whereas George kept his eyes trained on the open door in a much more jovial mood.

"Morning," your voice rang out quietly but pleasantly. George had to physically place his hand over his mouth to conceal the laughter that was threatening to burst out of him watching Fred's reaction to your voice. It was like he'd been electrocuted or at least unknowingly stunned as his head shot up, elbow banging on the table as it slid off the edge of the wooden table as his head whipped up to look at your face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," you said with a timid smile and a little laugh before taking a seat beside George. You’d usually sit with the other Ravenclaws but as it was so quiet this morning you figured you would sit with the twins.

"You're up early," George says with a smile, offering you the jug of pumpkin juice, which you gladly accepted. Fred had said nothing but his pink cheeks were talking all by themselves, though you didn't seem to notice.

"Wanted to take a long walk around the grounds this morning," you reply after taking a sip of the juice that George had poured for you. "I've been trying to do more exercise lately... it's always so pretty in autumn so it's not as horrible getting up early."

"Why?" Fred says, finally speaking. He regrets it the instant your eyes fall upon him, realising that the word had tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think, his tone a little sharp and defensive, as if it was an unnatural thing to do. "I meant, about the exercise."

"Oh, well I guess it's good for my head," you explained, placing down your cup. "And the waist line, I feel like I put on a stone every term with how good the food is." George chuckles along, finally helping himself to the breakfast food in front of him but you notice that Fred hardly reacts.

"I know what you mean, if it wasn't for Quidditch I'd probably be the size of a troll."

Your laugh renders Fred even more speechless than he already was, so much so that he'd accepted his fate as forever mute at this point.

"Well thank Godric for Quidditch," you say with a smile. Fred doesn't miss the way your gaze suddenly flashes over him, most notably his arms as he lifts the cup to his lips, making him choke into his juice. It was the first time he'd ever noticed your gaze slip over him so obviously.

"Must be tough being a beater, those bludgers must be really heavy," you say, your gaze hardly moving from Fred's arms, up and across his shoulders before slipping down again. He couldn't believe you were looking at him like this, especially when your eyes travelled up to his face and you caught his eyes. You didn't look embarrassed or look away, simply gave him a playful smile before addressing his twin again as he replied to you. Fred was dreaming, he must be.

But the attention didn't stop. Fred didn't know what had changed that morning but he started noticing little things like how you'd catch his eye when you walked into a room, like you were seeking him out, or if he gazed over at you it was only time before you would look in his direction too. He no longer had to pretend that you were cheering the loudest for him at Quidditch matches because you actually were, and noticeably so. You still attended practice sessions infrequently but you no longer kept your head down and in your books, now you were actually watching the team practice, though it appeared you were really only concerned by one half of the beater duo.

George's plan had worked. Fred was in a good mood more consistently, played better during Quidditch as he was actually focused on the game and no longer trying to get your attention as he already had it. Sure he was still grouchy if another male approached you but he didn't feel quite as bad about it when you would seek him out mid conversation, as if you wished it to be him instead.

"I'm gonna ask her out," Fred says one night as they enter their dorm, throwing off his big jumper and leaving it on a pile on the floor beside his bed.

"Maybe you should wait until after this season mate, only two more matches to go if we carry on playing well," George says delicately, taking off his own jumper but instead choosing to fold it onto the chair beside his bed unlike his sloppy twin. He watches as Fred's face scrunches up in displeasure at his words but he doesn't immediately question them, taking time to think about it.

"Yeah maybe," Fred says eventually, reaching don under his bed to pull out the large tray of stock they had stashed, mainly the slicing snack box stuff.

The two of them restocked and replenished the stock they had on hand for a while, completely ignoring all homework before they slipped down to the common room later that night.

"Gonna check the potions," George whispers in Fred's ear before slipping off, leaving him with Lee in the common room.

If Fred noticed anything off about George when he gets back, he doesn’t mention it. But George can feel it, the sense of dread and guilt, exactly what he didn’t want to happen was coming to fruition. He realised then that he’d have to break it to Fred, admit what he’d done.

“You coming mate?” Fred asks, grabbing his quidditch stuff ready to head to the pitch but pauses when he sees George sat on his bed, not making an effort to move. He looks sad, distressed even.

“What’s up? You didn’t eat all those Bertie boys did you?”

“Fred,” George says quietly, eyes slowly rising up until he’s looking into the all too familiar eyes of his twin. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

For the first time in history, Fred and George Weasley weren’t speaking. It was their first proper fall out, first argument and the first time in history that they hadn’t been wandering the corridors of Hogwarts together, causing mayhem or mischief but no one knew why. The tension between the pair was awful for them and everyone around them. Then suddenly, they were back together again even though it was still tense and not at all like it was before, they found their way back to eachother.

“Y/n,” Fred says from behind you, pulling you away from your conversation as the Ravenclaw table, your friends looking on curiously as you turned with a smile to see Fred behind you looking a little nervous.

“Hi Freddie,” you say with a smile, having missed him.

“Can I borrow you?”

You nod, turning to your friends to say bye and got up from the table and followed him out of the Hall, thinking how strange he was acting. He leads you up the staircases with little explanation and manages to sneak you up into his dorm through the portrait hole, something you couldn’t believe he managed to do.

When you walked into his dorm, you saw George sitting on the bed you assumed to be his, the room a little untidy but not awful.

“George?” You say, worried about the sad look on his face. He gives you a little smile and a brief wave as Fred closes the door behind you.

“What’s a matter? What’s going off?” You say, looking between the two. Fred offers you a seat on the nearby bed you assume to be his and he sits beside you, both now looking nervously at George.

“George has something he wants to tell you,” Fred says, casting a rather harsh glare at his brother, tone sharp and resolute. George takes a deep breath, clearing his throat as he looks up at you.

“I,” he manages to get out, but shuts down the moment he opens his mouth, apparently losing all the words he needed.

“It’s okay Georgie,” you say gently, trying to give him confidence.

“No it’s not,” Fred retorts in a much harsher tone. Your head whips round to him and he softens as he looks at you.

“He’s been giving you love potion,” he says, nodding his head towards his guilt stricken twin. Your mouth falls open in disbelief, a frown pulling at your eyebrows as you try your hardest to think of how it was possible.

“But.”

“I didn’t really mean to,” George says weakly but quickly changes his wording when Fred’s glare increased threefold. “Okay I did but not with any malicious intent. He’s bloody obsessed with you and I couldn’t stand the pining anymore, it was insufferable. He wasn’t focusing when you were at Quidditch and I just wanted him to focus again so I thought if you gave him attention back then he’d have his head back in the game and it worked.”

“George!” You say completely outraged, in disbelief that he’d have actually done that. “Stop it right now! It’s not funny.”

He frowns at you briefly, just quick enough for you to see as he looks between you both.

“I haven’t given you any in over a week,” he says curiously, “I ran out last week.”

The room is silent after his reveal as you start to slowly realise that even if you had been given the love potion initially, being without it hadn’t actually changed your feelings of Fred.

“You’re obsessed with me?” You ask, turning to Fred who looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up.

“I wouldn’t have said obsessed… but yeah, I really fancy you,” he says, not quite meeting your eyes. It’s a split second decision that leads you to closing the gap between the two of you, legs touching as you scoot along his bed and slowly lean in to him, trying to gage his reaction. He doesn’t resist in the slightest and finally looks up into your eyes just long enough to realise what’s happening before your eyes close and your lips meet.

George slips out quietly with a pleased look on his face, knowing that everything would be alright in the end. He walks down to the little store room where they brew their potions and he smirks to himself when he sees the still very full cauldron of love potion simmering, the pearlescent pink glow radiating from it.

You’d believed him to easily, both you and Fred. And if he had to take the hit for a little while, it was worth it.

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justagalwhowrites · 4 months

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Yearling - Ch. 27: Found

You try to figure out what you want. Joel and Ellie go on patrol.A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-26 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst. CLEARLY. It's me. Homophobia. Smut-adjacent. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 11.3k (THIS IS GETTING TO BE A PROBLEM I'M SO SORRY)

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Late August, 2027

“You’re making this hard on purpose,” Ellie’s nose scrunched as she held her guitar.

You laughed.

“Promise, Kiddo, I’m not.”

“Sometimes I really don’t like you, you know,” she grumbled. You snorted. “I’m serious! Swear you make me do shit the hard way because you fucking enjoy watching me struggle…”

“You learn better when you do it yourself and do it the hard way,” you shrugged, leaning back against a post of your porch. You stretched a leg out onto the step below and picked a little at your guitar. “You’ll never learn if I just give you all the answers.”

“Yeah yeah,” she muttered, leaning to the side to add more of her disorganized scrawl to her notebook. “Swear you didn’t have to work this hard at shit…”

“I started a lot younger than you,” you replied, picking up the pace on your guitar and adding slaps and pops, no real rhyme or reason to it, just what your fingers felt like doing. “Everything is easier when you start young. And hey, you’ve got a leg up on any asshole who tries to learn when they’re my age.”

“Because you’re a dinosaur?” She looked up at you from her notebook, a small smirk on her face.

“Nah,” you replied. “They’d been dead like three years when I was born, I’m not THAT old.”

She laughed and went back to her notes as you kept playing, looking out down the path from your yard to the road beyond.

It was sweltering hot and you’d never been more thankful for a breeze or the fact that it was your day off from the stables. The hair that had pulled loose from your braids stuck to your skin and you’d been sweating all day, waking up with your sheets balled up at the foot of your bed and your tank top damp even with the ceiling fan on. You hadn’t even put on jeans that day, throwing on one of the few dresses that had made their way into your closet in the almost two years you’d been in Jackson. The first you’d taken when Maria mentioned seeing one she thought would fit you, not long before things fell apart with Joel. You’d intended to wear it to the Tipsy Bison on a night there was dancing once it was warmer, opening the door to Joel when you were dressed like what your mother would call “a proper lady.” You’d pictured dancing with him, his hand sliding up the inside of your thigh when you sat down to have a drink until you couldn’t take it anymore and you practically dragged him home, riding him with the skirt bunched up around your waist the second you were in the door.

That had never happened. That dress stayed tucked safely away at the back of your closet, not able to bring yourself to part with it and the image of that night with him.

The other dress was perfect for days like today, long and loose and thin cotton that made the oppressive heat of late summer tolerable. Even if Ellie had looked at you like you had two heads when she saw you in the damn thing.

You didn’t mind, though. You were just glad that you had gotten to the point that you liked spending time with Ellie again. That you’d started feeling much of anything at all.

The first month you got back was hazy. You didn’t really leave your house at first, not able to contribute much at the stable and not seeing a reason to move otherwise.

You weren’t entirely sure how many days passed before there was the first knock at your door.

It wasn’t an Ellie knock. The sound didn’t carry her chaotic energy or almost audacious nature. Instead, it was hesitant but sturdy and firm without being forceful or insistent. You stayed flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling of the closet for a minute to see if the knock would come again. It didn’t. You stared at the ceiling a while longer but, eventually, you had to pee. You forced yourself to move and, on your way back from the bathroom, passed your front door. You hesitated for a moment before you went and opened it, to see if whoever knocked had left a note.

On your porch was a box filled with crackers and jerky and fruit and carrots and celery. All things you could eat without needing to cook or, really, do anything at all. You knew it was from Joel, even though it hadn’t sounded like his knock, either. There was no one else who would have brought it because no one else knew why you were locked inside your home. But he was no where to be seen. He didn’t leave a note.

A few days later, you forced yourself to go to the stable to check on the horses. The fillies and the colt weren’t making much progress without you - you’d have to probably start nearly from scratch with them once your arm healed - but you were able to feel somewhat useful, brushing horses down, checking on their hooves to see when they’d need to be shoed, just giving them some love and attention. That helped you feel a little more like yourself.

Ellie started coming by again a few days after that. She showed up one afternoon with a CD and a sandwich from the mess hall, marching into your living room like nothing had happened, complaining about another kid in town and how Joel wasn’t going to let her patrol with anyone but him for a while.

“I could get partnered with Dina but no,” she drew the last word out, sprawled on your couch, rolling her eyes as she did. “The old man is convinced I’m going to drop dead if he’s not looking out for me for five minutes…”

“I’m sure he’ll ease up once he sees how capable you are,” you said, sitting on the loveseat and picking up the CD case she’d brought with her. The Clash this time. “Mick Jones and Joe Strummer, nice choice. Why do you want to go out with Dina, anyway? I thought not everything was about girls…”

“Shut up.”

“Nah.”

You were’t sure if you were really doing better or if you’d just found a way to push the hurt down inside yourself again. You weren’t sure there was a way to recover from this, from the idea that you’d probably never see your child again. Clinging to the possibility felt so necessary but so foolish. You weren’t sure if it was reason or denial but it didn’t really matter. You weren’t sure you could live without that possibility dulling the jagged edges of your grief and pain.

The boxes of food made regular appearances on your porch. You never saw Joel.

When you were close to getting your cast off, Ellie came by your house but didn’t shove her way inside the way she usually did. Instead, she hovered on your porch.

“OK don’t be mad,” she said, a serious look on her face.

“Off to a great start,” you replied.

She glared at you for a second before pressing on.

“Joel sent me with a message,” she said. “He wanted me to tell you that the movie tonight was something called Ever After and that he thought you would like it and that he wasn’t going to be there so you should go. And to not be mad. I think you shouldn’t be mad, too, by the way.”

“Not mad,” you smiled a little. “I just… I don’t know…”

“Come on, Bambi,” Ellie said, dropping some of her pretense now. “Dina’s going with Jesse and I’ve never seen it and I really don’t want to be stuck sitting by them while they suck face.”

You sighed, looking back over your shoulder in the direction of Joel’s house. You found yourself looking that way a lot.

“Alright,” you said after a moment, looking back at Ellie. “I’ll go. But only to save you from your crush…”

“I’m going to ignore that last part and just be happy you’re going,” she said, a little smug. “Even though you’re annoying about it.”

“So annoying,” you agreed, stepping into your boots, turning on the lamp and following her out the door.

It was strangely easy to adjust to being around the people of Jackson again. Ellie gave you something to focus on, busy trying to distract her from the Dina and Jesse acting exactly like you remembered some of your friends in high school acted with their boyfriends.

“What’s this movie about, anyway?” Ellie asked as the two of you settled in toward the back of the room.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it,” you said. “But I think it was like Cinderella.”

Ellie looked at you and made a face.

“Like the fairy tale.”

“Yup,” you replied. She stared at you and you laughed a little. “What?”

“I’m just trying to picture you liking a fucking fairy tale.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms as best you could with one in a cast.

“What?” She teased. “Don’t tell me you like some stupid story where love solves everyone’s problems…”

“What’s wrong with that?” Julie, the woman you’d seen a few times at the Tipsy Bison and when she went out on patrol, appeared alongside Ellie, a large bowl of popcorn in her hands.

“It’s bullshit,” Ellie said. “There’s a reason they’re stories for little kids.”

“Maybe you just haven’t loved that way yet,” she smiled a little before nodding to the chair on the other side of you. “Seat taken?”

You hoped you didn’t just stare at her for too long. People didn’t just talk to you in Jackson, not without a reason, let alone try to sit by you. You weren’t entirely sure what to do with it.

“All yours,” you said, tugging your legs in close so she could pass you and sit down. She settled in beside you and smiled, holding out the bowl.

“Thanks,” she said. “Popcorn?”

“Sure,” you said after a moment, taking some with your good hand. “Thank you.”

“Course,” she smiled a little bigger in a lopsided, almost cocky way. “What’s the point of popcorn if you don’t share it?”

The movie was good. You’d only seen it once or twice before the outbreak but you’d liked it then, too. Cinderella was smart and capable, the prince was handsome and kind and you liked to imagine the way life was in that period of time.

“OK so that wasn’t terrible,” Ellie said as you headed out with her and Julie.

“Told you,” you teased a little.

“No one told me that sometimes the girls in fairy tales got to be badasses,” she replied. “I might have liked the stories more then!”

“The girls are always badasses,” Julie said. “They just try to hide it, scares the men otherwise.”

Ellie snorted.

“Sounds right.”

You reached Joel’s. There was a light on in his living room and you felt the familiar tug in you to go inside and join him. Just let yourself in the front door and settle in like it was yours.

“I’m gonna go tell the old man that his taste in movies isn’t totally awful,” Ellie said, heading up the front walk. “Still want help tomorrow at the stable?”

“Stalls ain’t gonna muck themselves,” you replied and held up your still healing arm. “And this isn’t much help.”

“Ugh,” she groaned good naturedly. “Night!”

You watched until she made it to the front door - not that the precaution was really necessary here but it made you feel better - and you turned to Julie, your good hand stuffed in your pocket.

“I’m that way and to the left,” you said. “So…”

“Mind if I join you?” She asked. “Nice night, figure I’ll take the scenic route.”

You looked at her for a moment.

“Sure,” you shrugged. “Not much to see though.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” she smiled one of those lopsided smiles and fell into step beside you, walking a little slower than you and you slowed down to match her pace. You looked ahead. “So, how’ve you been doing? Don’t see you at the Bison much anymore.”

“Fine,” you shrugged. “Just haven’t felt like going out.” You looked over at her and had the passing thought that she was pretty. Young, with long, dark hair and bright eyes and full lips.“How about you?”

“Oh you know,” she waved you off. “Same old, same old. The berries are coming into season though, have you been to check out the orchards and stuff?”

“I’ve ridden past them,” you said. “Haven’t exactly spent time there, though.”

“You should!” She brightened at that, even more than she already was. The two of you came to a stop at your front walk. “Think you’d like it. You should come with me sometime, it’d be fun.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you smiled a little tightly. “This is me, so…”

“Nice place,” she smiled back, looking more genuine than yours felt. “Well, whenever you want to check it out, let me know. Hope to see you around.”

“You too,” you said, standing there awkwardly for a moment before turning and heading up the walk and into your house.

You went to the mess hall the next morning for breakfast. Dinner, too. And soon, your cast was off and you were going there for most meals, even if it was just to grab something to bring home or go to the stables. The food boxes stopped showing up on your porch.

Instead, you’d come back from the stables and find new guitar strings waiting for you there or a CD that you didn’t have or a copy of Titanic on VHS, the one that took two tapes and you had to get up halfway through to change it.

You’d told Joel he should move on. You weren’t sure if you really wanted him to - you doubted you’d be able to stomach seeing him with someone else - but you didn’t want him to be alone, either. You didn’t want to drag him down with you just because you couldn’t separate his past from your own.

“OK so I think I have it,” Ellie said, pulling you out of your head and making your fingers still. “Can you look?”

She shoved the notebook your way and you leaned over your guitar to look at it, fingering the chords but not playing them.

“Yeah,” you said after a minute. “I think that’s probably closer to what you’re looking for, give it a go.”

You pushed the notebook back towards her and she set her guitar on her lap, adjusting it for a second before playing it. You nodded along, watching as she scrunched her face, getting more and more frustrated before she groaned.

“That’s not right either,” she leaned her head back on the post at her back. “Song writing shouldn’t be this hard. This is bullshit.”

“The shit that’s worth doing is hard, kid,” you shrugged. “Why don’t you try thinking about it again for a minute. Do you want it to feel urgent or slow and confident? Both are strong but they’re going to have different vibes.”

She sighed and closed her eyes.

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” you shrugged, settling back with your guitar. “Figure out how you’re feeling and what you want the song to say about it. It’ll come to you.”

You went back to playing as Ellie picked her notebook back up, gnawing on the end of her pen.

“I didn’t know you played!”

You stopped and your head shot up from its place on the post to see Julie standing at the end of your walk, her hands in the pockets of her shorts, her thick hair piled on top of her head, her arms looking sculpted and strong in her tank top.

“Sorry,” she laughed. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Can I come up?”

“Um…”

“Sure!” Ellie said before you had a chance to really think about it. Julie reached over the short fence and unlatched the gate before opening it and coming up to your porch, sitting on the bottom step so she was looking up at you and Ellie.

“Didn’t know there was a guitar club in town,” she said, folding one leg into her chest and looping her arms around her shin. “Don’t stop on my account! What song was that?”

“Oh, that wasn’t anything,” you said, running your fingers up and down the neck of the guitar. “Just… fidgeting, really.”

“Yeah, Bambi is fucking awesome,” Ellie said. “Best guitar player in town, easy.”

“Ellie,” you gave her a look but she ignored you.

“Seriously, you name it and she can probably play it,” she said. “She knows so much about music it’s insane.”

“Not really,” you cut her off. “I just like music so I learned about what I liked, that’s all��”

“Oh bullshit,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “She’s a human juke box, try her.”

“Do you mind?” Julie asked, looking at you with her brows raised. Her eyes were bright green and almost sharp.

“As long as you’re prepared to be disappointed,” you shrugged. “I can try.”

Ellie scoffed and Julie ignored her.

“I remember this song from when I was a kid, just before the outbreak,” she said. “It actually took me a while to track down the name of it after and you might think it’s silly but… I’m With You? Know that one?”

You smiled a little.

“I know that one,” you said, settling the guitar on your lap. “Haven’t tried to play it before, though. Avril’s not really my wheelhouse, so… go easy on me.”

You couldn’t remember exactly how the song started but you remembered the chorus and you remembered a verse from there. The music just trailed off at the end, not really remembering how the song ended either, and you awkwardly drummed your fingers on the body of the guitar when you stopped playing, Ellie and Julie both watching you.

“Right, well,” you said. “Like I said, not really my wheelhouse and…”

“That was fantastic!” Julie cut you off, her broad smile making the freckles on her cheeks rise.

“Told you,” Ellie said. “She’s the best.”

“Well I figured that much,” Julie rolled her eyes a little dramatically but smiled that cocky smile as she did before looking back to you again. “Thanks for letting me put you on the spot.”

“Any time,” you said before you really had a chance to think about it. She smiled a little bigger.

“Hey, so, I hadn’t meant to break up the jam session,” she said. “I was actually coming by to see if you wanted to come with me tomorrow afternoon, I was going to head out to the orchards for a bit. You’re welcome to join, get outside for a bit. It’s nice, promise.”

“Um,” you said for what felt like the millionth time that day, trying to picture the stable schedule. “I think that would work, I have some patrols leaving that morning but should be able to step away for a bit in the afternoon…”

“Perfect,” she said, getting up. “I need to get down to the Bison but I’ll meet you at the stables tomorrow?”

“That’s where I’ll be,” you smiled in a way you hoped was genuine. “Looking forward to it.”

“It’ll be fun,” she said. “I’ll see you then. Bye, Ellie!”

“Bye Julie,” she dragged her name out and gave you a look. You seriously considered kicking her. Julie laughed and started down your walk, only making it halfway to the gate before turning around and walking backwards, looking back at you with her hands in her back pockets.

“Nice dress, by the way,” she said. “It works for you. See you tomorrow!”

You went back to messing with your guitar as you tried to not watch her walk up the lane. Ellie was far less delicate, craning her neck until Julie turned the corner.

She spun to face you and swatted your leg.

“Oh my GOD,” she half whispered, half yelled at you.

“What?” You asked, fingers stilling on the strings.

“That!” She said. “All that fucking flirting!”

“Ellie…”

“Oh come ON,” she cut you off. “You may as well have fucked right on your porch, Jesus Christ…”

“OK I will say this again,” you said, setting your guitar down beside you. “Who is and isn’t between my legs? Not your business.”

“Well that’s just not true,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who fucked Joel and made it my business.” You sighed and went to reply but she held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather you two work your shit out and get back together. But if you’re not going to figure it out then you shouldn’t just be miserable and lonely forever and Julie is hot as fuck.”

“Ellie!” You hissed.

“What!” She replied, her brows raised. “She is!”

“Jesus…”

“Just saying!” She said, her hands up in mock surrender. “Julie’s cool. And hot. I think you’d have fun. And you should at least try to have some fun sometimes instead of just being miserable all the time.”

“What if I like being miserable.”

“Just don’t chicken out,” Ellie said, ignoring you and picking up her guitar before getting to her feet. “But I’m getting hungry. Think I’ll go see what the old man is doing for dinner. You’re welcome to come along if you’d rather not be miserable with us…”

“Ellie.”

“Right, right,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean it, fucking go tomorrow. You big chicken.”

“Go home, you little brat,” you replied. She cheerfully flipped you off before heading back toward Joel’s.

You sat on your porch for a while longer, absently playing and watching as the color of the sky slowly shifted from blue to pink to deep, inky black. The darkness seemed to swallow everything, like there wasn’t anything beyond what was right in front of you. But you knew that if you walked far enough, followed the light of the north star, you’d find things beyond what consumed here and now.

It was late when you finally went inside, scrounging in your kitchen for the last of some of what Joel had brought you even though you weren’t particularly hungry. You turned on the stereo and just let whatever CD you’d put in last play, not really paying attention

You found yourself thinking about Julie. About what Ellie said about Julie.

It had been a long time since you’d had a woman flirt with you. You’d been with your fair share of women since the outbreak but flirting hadn’t really been part of it. Marisa was the first woman you’d slept with and, after Savvy came along, you stopped seeking out that kind of connection with men and kept it to strictly women. It just seemed safer. After Marisa, it had always been casual - you didn’t think you could bear another heartbreak like that - and it had always been fairly blunt. You could generally tell if they were interested in letting off some physical steam and, if they were, you had fun for a few days before they moved on.

But things with Julie reminded you of one of your first crushes, a girl who did trick riding on the same circuit as you when you were a girl. You’d first noticed Courtney when you were both 13. She was so beautiful you couldn’t help but stare at her. At first, you’d almost resented her. She was good, damn good, and she was full of charismatic smiles and she dusted glitter across her collarbones that peeked out from the top of her costume. She was exactly who your mother wished you were and, as much as you loved bronc and bull and roping, part of you wanted to be who your mother wanted you to be. You wanted to be satisfied with what she wanted for you and you wanted to be happy being who Courtney was so effortlessly. Life would be simpler and happier if you were content with that and Courtney was proof that life existed. And you wanted it.

You settled for beating her, for a while. Narrowing your eyes at her when you passed her between rounds at competitions, looking her way when you saw your scores narrowly eclipse hers on the board. You loved it. The only thing you wanted more than beating her was her.

Hell if you knew what to do with that.

In hindsight, you weren’t sure she knew, either.

The first time she’d said more than two words to you was when you’d smirked at her as you held the first place trophy. You went to the locker room after the awards ceremony and you had the place almost to yourself, most of the other girls already cleaned out. The third place winner - a girl who’s name you didn’t remember - left and it was just a few seconds later that you heard the door slam into the wall. You looked up to see Courtney stalking over to you. You could see the glitter on her collarbones and her cheeks, her eyes hot and her lips full.

“Want to tell me what the hell your problem is?” She demanded, getting so close to you that you could smell her body spray. It was almost sickly sweet and floral but on her it smelled good. “What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me so much!”

“I don’t hate you…” you said.

“Could’ve fooled me!” She cut you off.

“Why do you care?” You snapped. “We compete, we’re not friends, who cares if I hate you?”

“I care!” She snapped back.

“Why!”

“Because I like you!” She yelled, breathless. You just blinked at her for a moment as she caught her breath, her eyes drifting to your lips. “I like you and sometimes…”

She didn’t get a chance to finish. Instead, you kissed her.

It was clumsy and deeply uncertain. You’d never kissed anyone before and you had no idea what you were doing, your hands locked tight at your sides as though touching her anywhere at all was against the rules but you were risking it, anyway. Her mouth was warm and soft and it seemed oddly wet even though that made sense when you thought about it.

After a moment you pulled back from her slightly, your eyes wide, not really believing what you’d just done.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your turn to be breathless now. “I… I don’t know…”

“Shut up,” she kissed you that time, pressing you back against the lockers, stretching up to better reach your lips, her body hot on your own. You kissed her back, trying to focus and take in everything. How she tasted, how she smelled, how her costume hugged the slight curve of her waist.

“Courtney!” Her mother’s shrill voice from the hall made her jump away from you and wipe her mouth on the back of her hand. “You about ready honey?”

“One minute!” She called back before turning to you. “Do you have a some paper?”

You just nodded and fumbled in your bag for a notebook. She turned to a random page that happened to have some history notes on it and wrote her name and number at the top. Her handwriting was soft and curved and feminine and you envied that, too. She drew a little heart next to it.

“Call me,” she said, pressing the notebook into your chest. “OK?”

“Yeah,” you said, staring at her. You couldn’t help but stare at her. “Yeah, I will.”

“Good,” she smiled. “See you next time, superstar. Maybe I’ll finish on top then.”

“Courtney!”

“Coming!” She grabbed her bag out of a nearby locker and gave you an almost sly smile before she ran out to meet her mother.

From then on, most of your time with her was flirting. In between rounds at competitions or on the phone when you were far apart, carefully crafting your words so you’d have plausible deniability with your parents but know what the other meant. You wrote each other letters when you were apart, counted the days until you got to see each other again. When you found an empty spot when you were in the same place, you ended up tangled up together, kissing and fumbling against each other, figuring out what seemed to stoke the fires deep inside yourselves in the small moments you could find for just the two of you.

That continued for just over a year when Courtney came to a tournament with a somber expression on her face. You frowned but she gave you a subtle shake of her head as she passed you and you kept quiet. It took a few hours before you were able to get her alone and she told you the truth of it. That her mom had found your letters to her - thankfully not signed so she had no idea who had written them but still obviously from another girl - and had told her daughter that she, unequivocally, would end it.

“But…” you protested, trying not to cry.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick. “But… she threatened to send me to one of those camps if I don’t and… I can’t go to that, OK? I can’t, I don’t think I could make it and…”

You held onto her as she cried, her tears making little rivers in the glitter on her skin.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I really… I think I…”

You kissed her before she said it.

“Me too,” you said quietly when you pulled away.

She sniffed and smiled a small smile.

“Maybe in another life, right?”

“Right,” you smiled a little back.

She dried her eyes as best she could and you watched from the stands as she gave the best performance you’d ever seen. You did the opposite. Your routine ended with a full Stroud Layout but your top foot slipped when you were getting into position and you fell off your horse, tumbling over and over yourself in the sand of the arena, the feel of it gritty in your mouth as your head spun when your body finally came to a stop.

You didn’t make the podium and your mother didn’t push you to compete again for a while. You never saw Courtney again.

You weren’t sure how to navigate things with Julie. You weren’t sure what you wanted to navigate with Julie. She was beautiful, yes. And she seemed kind and funny and smart. She seemed like someone you could have fun with and could care about.

But she wasn’t Joel. You weren’t sure you could feel like you felt for him for anyone else. It seemed silly to even try. And if you couldn’t feel like that, what was the point?

You tried to sleep but gave up eventually. After a while, you found the moose carving you’d started when you were out with Joel, looking for Savvy. It was getting closer to being done, though it was still a rough hewn thing. You weren’t sure anyone who didn’t know what it was supposed to be would realize what it was without help. But still, it felt good to make something. You let yourself be absorbed by carving it for a bit, until it felt like you’d shut your mind down enough to sleep. You set the moose down on the nightstand, arranging him so it was like he was watching you sleep, the red splotch from your blood still staining his chest.

You brought him with you to the stables the next day for something to work on when you needed the distraction. Just sitting there with your thoughts when you had downtime seemed like a bad idea.

“You’re gonna tell me all about it, right?” Ellie asked as you gave Shimmer and Ares a final once over that morning.

“I don’t need to tell you every time I hang out with someone,” you replied.

“Whatever,” she said. “Just don’t chicken out. Actually go, you need a social life…”

“What, getting sick of keeping me company all the time?” You teased, handing her the reins.

“Yeah, you’re pretty fucking boring,” she smirked a little. You snorted. “I’m serious though. Promise you’ll go.”

“I’m going,” you said, giving her a gentle shove toward the door. “Get out of here. Be safe on patrol, see you back tonight.”

“Not if you’re at Julie’s you won’t,” she waggled her eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes as you watched her lead her and Joel’s horses out of the stables.

Time dragged until that afternoon and you found yourself feeling oddly nervous, waiting for Julie to come by. You weren’t sure what time she was supposed to get there and, you realized, you didn’t know what to actually expect with any of this.

Yeah, it had felt like flirting. And Ellie seemed sure that it was. But Ellie was a kid and your recent experience in that department was so limited you really knew fuck all about it. What if you’d read the situation completely wrong? What if Julie was just a nice woman who wanted to be friends?

“Hey you,” Julie’s voice surprised you enough that it made you jump, water sloshing over the side of the bucket you were carrying to top off one of the horses. “Shit, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you…”

“You’re fine,” you said quickly, refilling a waterer and setting the bucket down.

“Now still good?” She asked. “Because I’m not in a rush, today is my day off…”

“Now’s good,” you said quickly, trying not to think too hard about what she was wearing. Her long, lush hair was softly braided and hung over her shoulder, loose strands framing her face. Her shorts were short and her legs were long and sculpted and she wore a few long necklaces that settled into the curve between her breasts. She smiled.

“Great!” She held up a bag you hadn’t noticed before. “Brought snacks. Not that we’ll need much, it’s peak berry season out there. We could eat ourselves sick and not make a dent.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you smiled a little.

“Oh, I intend to,” she smiled back.

Julie led the way out of town, smiling and chatting with the guards at the gate for a moment before heading toward the orchards just east of town.

“So why are you heading out here on your day off?” You asked, looking over at her.

“Well as I think you know, one of my main contributions to the good people of Jackson is tending bar at the Bison,” she smiled. “But that’s because I just really like drinks. I found this old cocktail book when I was a teenager and I just kind of became obsessed, I guess? There was that and these books and magazines that showed what it was like before and I wanted to do that. Have the experience of going to a bar when life was different, you know? And yeah, we make some pretty decent booze here in town - or I think we do, anyway, didn’t really get to try any before - but that’s not all it takes to make a good cocktail. I can’t make a Coke or anything but I can make the syrups and infusions and things. I like to experiment in my spare time so I come out here, pick the supplies I need, and give things a try at home before I bring my ideas into the Bison.”

“Do I get to know what you’re working on?” You asked, brows raised.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” she smirked. “But I will need a guinea pig before too long if you’re game…”

“Far be it from me to turn down a free drink,” you replied and she smiled bigger.

The orchards were, indeed, beautiful. You followed her to a particularly dense spot and she pulled a blanket out of the bag, spreading it on the ground in the shade of an apple tree.

“I won’t lie,” she said, sitting back on her hands and closing her eyes, taking a deep breath. “This is probably my favorite spot.”

“I can see why,” you nodded, drawing your knees into your chest and looking around. “It’s gorgeous here.”

“It’s quiet here,” she laughed a little. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Jackson. Way better than the QZ we were in when I was a kid. It’s a good place with good people. I love the people, truly, I do. But everyone knows everyone and knows everything about everyone and it’s so hard to have anything for yourself, you know?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s a great place but… it’s definitely a lot.”

You talked a little about your pasts. You told her - vaguely, lightly - about your time before Mitchum. She told you about her time in the Denver QZ and you almost fainted when she said she was only 31 years old.

“How old were you when the world ended?” You gaped at her. “Do you even remember?”

“I was seven,” she laughed. “I remember a bit. How old were you?”

“Older than that,” you replied. “Jesus…”

“Not that old, clearly,” she said, picking a blackberry off a bush and holding it out to you. “This is a good one, you should have it.”

“Old enough,” you replied. “And if it’s good, you should have it.”

“I have them all the time,” she said, stepping close to you. You were suddenly acutely aware of the fact that you were wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing when working with the horses all day and you hoped you didn’t smell. She pressed the berry to your lips. “Try it.”

You obeyed, taking the fruit into your mouth and biting into it, the juice bursting on your tongue.

“See?” She smiled. “Told you.”

The two of you ended up back on the blanket and you stretched out on it, looking up at the clouds drifting lazily past overhead, arms bare - too hot to wear anything more than a tank top - but not feeling overly exposed. Julie lay next to you, her arm brushing your own.

“Is it weird that I sometimes don’t feel like I missed out?” She asked. You felt her adjust next to you and you glanced her way to see her lying on her side, facing you. “I mean I know there was a lot before that we don’t have now but… I dunno, I guess I still wanted to be a ballerina when the world ended. It doesn’t feel like I really gave up all that much, you know?”

“Think that has as much to do with Jackson as anything else,” you replied, adjusting so that you were facing her. “But I get that, in a way. If I’d found Jackson when I was younger, I think I’d feel the same. Shit, what I’m doing now is exactly what I grew up wanting to do. If it wasn’t for all the time in between, the end of the world would have just turned into me getting just what I wanted. Besides all the death anyway.”

“Think you’re right about the Jackson thing,” she smiled a little. “It’s a special place with good people. Like a few better than the others, though.”

“Yeah?”

She reached out and brushed some of the hair that had fallen from your braid back from your face and trailed her fingers down your cheek and your chin.

“Yup.”

She leaned in then, moving slow and holding your gaze, giving you all the time in the world to stop her if you wanted.

You didn’t.

Her kiss was soft and gentle, her lips smooth on yours. She tasted and smelled sweet and her hand went to your hip, tugging you against her.

Julie’s body was softer than you expected as she pressed against you and, in so many ways, she felt safe and comfortable there. But she felt foreign, too. You’d become accustomed to a different form on yours, one that was larger and broader and firmer.

You tried not to think about him as her kiss deepened, as your hand went to her waist and trailed over her side but stopped short of cupping her breast.

She nudged you onto your back and she settled on top of you, her chest pressed tight to yours, her hips starting to rock gently against you. You ran your hands over her back to the top of her ass but didn’t go lower, not able to shake the subtle wrongness of kissing someone and feeling someone who wasn’t Joel.

After a minute, she pulled away from you.

“I get the feeling you’re not as into this as I am,” she said, panting a little. You opened your mouth to argue but she silenced you with a look. “If I misread things, I’m really sorry. But you should know that you don’t have to fuck me just because I’m trying to fuck you.”

“You didn’t misread anything,” you said quickly.

“Good,” she smiled a little. “But… It doesn’t seem like you’re feeling this.”

You winced.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” you said. “But… I don’t think I’m feeling what you are.”

“Well shit,” she laughed a little and rolled off you, lying flat on her back beside you. “I really am sorry if I came on too strong or did something you didn’t want…”

You laughed a little.

“Definitely not that,” you said. “Just have… other things on my mind. And you deserve someone’s full attention.”

She turned her head to look at you and you turned yours, too.

“It’s Joel, isn’t it?” She asked. You winced a little. “Sorry, I’m not trying to dig into anything that’s not my business, it just… seemed like you guys split up a while ago so I thought it would be OK. I’m sorry.”

“No, it probably should be,” you said. “It’s got nothing to do with you, trust me.”

“Well,” she said. “At the risk of this being the most awkward hang out ever… want to help me get some raspberries?”

“Sure,” you laughed a little. “I’d like that.”

She smiled.

“Good. Me too.”

It was awkward for a bit, but by the time the two of you started back to Jackson, it was lighter. Easier. Like you’d never kissed at all.

Julie walked with you back to the stables, not too long before you were expecting patrols that weren’t out overnight to return.

“Even with everything today, I hope we can be friends,” she said. “I do actually like you. Not just because I’d like to fuck you.”

You laughed a little.

“Yeah, I’d like that, too,” you said. “I’m sorry I’m not… in the same place on the fucking front…”

“I’d rather pretend we never found that out,” she laughed a little. “Maintain some of the mystery. But, you know. If anything changes, it’s a small town. You know where to find me.”

“That I do,” you said.

She turned to leave but seemed to think better of it and turned back.

“If he’s it for you?” She said. “I think you should figure out a way to make it work. No point in wanting something and acting like you can’t have it when it’s right there, you know? And yeah, it’s not really my business and yeah, I don’t know you all that well but… something tells me you’re not going to be feeling any different anytime soon. And I don’t think he is either. Just… my two cents.”

She smiled and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Thanks, Julie,” you said quietly. She gave your arm a squeeze.

“See you around, Bambi.”

You watched the door she left through for a few minutes after she was gone before you went back to work.

The patrols all made it back without incident, Ellie returning her and Joel’s horses. She asked how things went but you just waved her off and she deflated a bit.

“I keep trying to get some excitement around here,” she said. “You are no fucking help, you know that?”

“I am so sorry my romantic life isn’t more entertaining,” you said wryly. “I’ll work on that. Entirely for your benefit, of course.”

“Well you’re clearly not going to do it for your own.”

You just rolled your eyes as she headed back home. You stayed late at the stables. Not for any real reason, you just didn’t want to be at home alone and going to the mess hall didn’t sound like what you wanted, either. You worked on the moose carving, pleasantly surprised at the progress you’d made on him.

You ended up working on him until, almost suddenly, you realized he was done. Fully formed - or as close to it as you could get him - with four legs and jagged shapes for the antlers. But he looked like a moose, broad and steady and strong. You turned him over in your hand a few times, running your finger over the arch of his back and the curve of his neck.

“What am I going to do with you?” You said quietly, holding it up in front of you, looking where his eyes would be if he had them. The bloodstain was still crimson on his chest.

After a few minutes, you got up off the floor of the stable and did your final check for the evening before locking up behind you and heading home.

You took the long way.

It was dark but not so late that the Tipsy Bison had closed for the night, a warm glow coming from the windows. With the sun down, you were a little cold with bare arms but you didn’t mind. You walked slowly, watching the stars as you went.

You stopped at the end of Joel’s walk. The lights were out. You thought he probably went to bed early - he got tired after a patrol - but he could be at the Bison, too. Either way…

You all but crept up his walk, holding the moose tightly in your fingers. You stopped at the base of his stairs and held the rough-hewn animal in front of your face again.

“Keep an eye on him for me?” You said quietly to the wood. It didn’t say anything back. You stepped as lightly as you could up the stairs but the same step as always squeaked below you. You set the moose on Joel’s doormat before turning to go, making the step squeak again. You made it almost all the way back up the walk when the lights inside turned on and you picked up the pace.

It didn’t matter. You heard the front door open just as you turned onto the street and your eyes darted over toward him before you could help it.

“Bambi?” He called, not too loud. He was in his blue cotton plaid sleep pants and a black t-shirt that hugged his body just right, tight across his shoulders and upper arms, highlighting the soft curve of his stomach. You stopped for a moment and just gave him a tight smile before continuing on home.

When you went to bed, you found yourself looking at the spot on your nightstand where the moose had been before, part of you wishing he was still beside you.

***

“Hey. Hey Joel.”

Joel smiled a little to himself. He recognized Ellie’s tone.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Wanna hear a joke about pizza?”

He sighed, trying to sound annoyed. He wasn’t sure if it worked.

“Get the feeling you’re gonna tell me either way.”

“Eh, never mind,” Ellie said, sounding a little put out. Joel looked back at her, frowning slightly. And then she smirked. “It’s too cheesy.”

Joel groaned.

“That one’s bad, baby girl.”

“No it’s not!” She rode up alongside him even though the trail wasn’t really wide enough for that. “That was a good one!”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “It was terrible, three out of 10.”

“Bullshit!”

“What would you give it?” He asked, brows raised. “Because I’m questioning your judgement here…”

“At least a six.”

“No.”

“Yes!” She laughed. “You’ve just got shitty taste, old man.”

“Uh huh,” he laughed. “And what’s that say about you then, hm?”

“Broken clock is right twice a day,” she replied. “You were bound to accidentally do OK every now and then. Will Livingston, however, is right every time.”

“You got that entire book memorized?” He teased lightly. “If not, you gotta be close…”

“I’m getting there,” she said. “Saving the best for last.”

Joel just shook his head a little.

He loved patrolling with Ellie. Even more than he thought he would. It was so much like when he’d first come to know her and care for her. It was a time, he realized now, that made him understand that he could still love. That he had it within himself to care for another person, that he could cope with the fear of loss that came with attachment because Ellie was worth it. He liked spending the time just the two of them and getting to know her better as the young woman she was becoming instead of the little girl he’d come to know years earlier. She’d grown so much, come into her own in a way that was only possible in a place like Jackson. She had friends and hobbies and had become part of the community there. Every day with her was reassurance that he’d done the right thing. That every life he’d taken that day in the hospital was a worthy price to pay.

Joel had left Jackson with Ellie plenty before patrolling with her, back when she was still speaking to him. Before she found out the truth of everything. He’d loved it then, too. But this was different. She was still his baby girl but they were out here as partners, working together to protect the community they both loved. It was a glimpse of the future they had, one where their lives moved along side by side and he got to watch her find her place and fall in love and have a family of her own and just be happy as herself.

They were only a day out from Jackson now, heading in from a three day long patrol. It was Ellie’s first overnight patrol and she’d been so excited for it, even as she tried to pretend like she wasn’t. The days before they left town, Ellie was over at his house every night, going over the list of what she should bring and looking over the map. She’d lit up when he said they could bring a guitar, something else that made Joel smile.

It had been more than a month since she’d gotten him back into playing, showing up at his house with a guitar and saying she wanted his opinion on something. She played American Girl, one of his favorites, and set the guitar down when she was done.

“That was amazing, baby girl,” he’d said, more than a little in awe of her. “Where did you learn that?”

“Bambi,” she replied. “But do you think it’d sound better with two? I feel like it would. But you’re the musician so…”

It was an obvious ploy but it made him smile a little. The idea that Ellie would do that much to make him play again. That you’d help her.

“It might,” he said, getting up to get his instrument. “Let’s give it a try.”

Joel tried to not think of you too much. He usually failed. But he was getting better at not drowning in the memories of you, of not letting the loss of you consume him.

It helped that he’d found a way to care for you while respecting the distance you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to just abandon you, not when he had a sense of how much you were hurting. So he brought you food. Selfishly, it served two purposes. It meant you were, hopefully, eating something. But it also meant he knew that you were still alive. That he could leave a box on your porch, walk by a few hours later, and see that it was gone. He could check on you without forcing you to talk to him and that eased the steady drumbeat of worry inside him.

When he heard you were back at the stables, he shifted from things you needed to things you would want. He brought you the things he found that made him think of you, things he’d have given you when he came home to you in another life.

It also helped that he knew you thought of him, too. At least occasionally, enough that you’d left the carving you’d made on his porch a few weeks before. He thought he was hearing things when the first squeak woke him up from his place on the couch, but then the step squeaked a second time and he was sure he heard it. He’d thought it might be Ellie, needing something but not necessarily wanting to say it. He hadn’t expected to see you heading down the street, the first glimpse of you he’d had in so long. Your arm was out of the cast and you looked good. A bit thinner than you’d been the last time he’d seen you but still good. Still beautiful, still soft with sharp edges. Still what he wanted to sink into and wrap himself up in every chance he got. He picked the moose up and brought it inside, tracing the outline of its frame for a moment. You’d finished it. It was rough, you were clearly a beginner, but you’d finished it and given it to him. His thumb brushed the wound on its heart, where you’d bled. Before he really thought better of it, he brought the figure to his lips and kissed it gently before setting it on the side table and turning out the lights.

The two of you were set to leave Jackson again in just a week, another gap in the patrol schedule that you could leverage to search for Savvy now that you were healed. He hoped this search led somewhere. He couldn’t imagine what it was like, living like that, not knowing what happened to your child. The closest he’d come was the torturous time that Ellie was with the monsters who’d taken her in Silver Lake. He was so frantic, so terrified of what he’d find but even more terrified of never finding it to begin with. He needed to save her, protect her. But if he couldn’t do that, he needed to know what happened to her. He needed to know who to destroy before he destroyed himself for letting it happen. Living in that for years would be unbearable.

“Hey Joel?”

He could hear the frown in her voice.

“Yeah Baby Girl?” He looked over his shoulder, Ellie and Shimmer falling behind him again now that the trail had narrowed further. She stopped and so did he.

“That’s something we should be watching for, right?” She nodded toward something off the trail, a small frown on her face. Joel followed where she was looking and he froze in his saddle.

It took an eagle eye to spot it, just brush amongst brush, but it shocked him when he saw it. The gentle arch of a sapling, stretching down toward the ground, held there with rope.

“Yeah,” he said. “It is. Stay with the horses.”

“But…”

“Just one second,” he said, dismounting and going for the trap, trying desperately not to get his hopes up but his heart was racing. It was a common set up for a trap. It could be anyone’s.

This trap was far fresher than the one he’d found with you, the dirt where the pin and been put in the ground still disturbed. The trap itself was still baited and the pins were smooth, almost artistically carved. It hadn’t been here long. He looked around quickly, looking for some indication of where the person who set this trap might have gone. It took some doing - whoever it was covered their tracks well - but he found it, the edge of a boot print.

He went back to his horse and mounted up.

“Ellie,” he said, voice serious. “Need you to listen to me, OK?”

“OK,” she frowned. “Joel, you’re acting weird…”

“We’re gonna track someone,” he said. “But when we find them, need you to not shoot them until we talk to them, OK? And… and if its a teenaged girl, need you to not shoot them even if she pulls a gun on me, OK?”

“A teenaged… Joel, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Just trust me,” he said. “Please.”

He started with the boot print and found little hints of someone moving through the brush from there. Disturbed leaves, a splotch of dirt that looked misplaced, a small branch that had snagged on another when something about human height passed below it.

“Joel,” Ellie said after they’d been tracking for about 20 minutes.

“Still looking,” he said gently. “It’s OK…”

He heard something rustle down low up ahead and he adjusted Ares’ path to check on it. He didn’t need to go far, the source of the sound only about 100 feet away and next to a large rock. Standing there, beside to a large horse and a large dog, was a girl. She was a little taller than Ellie, with gangly arms and legs, a rifle held high in her hands.

“Stop right there!” She said, her voice sharp with a familiar southern twang. The dog moved in front of her, getting down low and bearing its teeth. “Don’t wanna shoot you but I will. You can move right along, this spot’s taken.”

Joel lifted his hands and caught a glimpse of Ellie raising a gun next to him.

“Ellie!” He said sharply. She looked at him, eyes wide. “Gun down. Now.”

“But…”

“Now.”

She huffed but lowered the gun slowly, her eyes back on the girl in front of her.

“Won’t shoot you in the back,” the girl said. “Just turn around and go.”

Joel fought to focus. The girl in front of him… she looked like Sarah, so so much like Sarah. The same shock of curly hair, same brown skin, same bright eyes. If he didn’t know better, he’d think they were sisters. He fought to stay here, in the forest with Ellie, not getting swallowed by his own memories. He’d found her. He was all but certain of that now, he’d found her and he was going to bring her back to you.

“You out here on your own?” He asked gently, his hands said up.

“Don’t see how that’s any business of yours,” she said sharply. “All that matters to you is that I will kill you, don’t try me.”

“I understand,” he said. “Not going to hurt you…”

“Bullshit.”

“We’re not,” Ellie snapped.

“Ellie.”

“What!” She said. “Joel, I swear, if she shoots you…”

“Remember what I said,” he replied.

“But…”

“I mean it,” he cut her off. “Don’t, OK?”

He turned back to the girl.

“Not going to hurt you,” he said again. “Just… just hear me out for just a second, OK? We’re from a settlement, about a day’s ride from here…”

“Good for you,” she said. “Better head that way then.”

“It’s a good place,” he said, ignoring her. “With good people. Including… including your mama, I think.”

Her eyes went a little wide and she lowered the gun ever so slightly. He caught a glimpse of Ellie’s head whipping around to look at him but he kept his eyes on the girl.

“Your name’s Savannah, right?” He pressed on. “Your mom, she calls you Savvy, right?”

She raised the gun again.

“How’d you know that,” snapped. “You one of the assholes that took her? That it? What, you kill her? Get her to tell you about me first? That what happened?”

“No honey,” Joel said, his throat tight. He’d found her, he’d found your daughter. “No, she… she escaped them, few years back. She got hurt real bad doin’ it, we brought her in, got her fixed up and she stayed. She’s been looking for you but she’s still there…”

“Why should I trust you?” She snapped. “Why should I believe a damn thing you say?”

“Because I know her,” he said. “Been helping her look for you. She’s… I know her. She trains horses, guessin’ she trained the one you’ve got? She trained the one I’m on, too. She runs our stable for us, she…”

“Bambi?” Ellie gaped at him. “Bambi’s her mom? Bambi has…”

“Ellie,” Joel said again, cutting her off and looking back at Savvy.

“She’s there,” he said. “She misses you, she misses you so much. Told me how you liked to read to the horses when you were little. How the dogs liked you better than her. How you’re real good at carving… Recognized your trap, found another one of yours a few months back. She told me how your pins are always smooth and even… Let us take you back with us. Won’t take your guns, just… just come back with us. Please. She misses you so much, she’s been so worried…”

“We’re not people to be afraid of,” Ellie said and Joel glanced her way. She was looking at Savvy now, her face serious. “Well, as long as you’re not an asshole. I know Joel seems scary but he’s not. Promise. He’s safe.”

She lowered the gun slowly, looking between the two of them before looking down at the dog.

“Gattling,” she said. “Heel.”

The dog dropped its defensive stance and went alongside her, looking up and waiting for a command. She looked back at Joel and Ellie.

“You really know my mom?” She asked quietly. “She’s… she’s really alive?”

“She is,” Joel nodded, lowering his hands to the saddle horn. There was a knot in his throat. “And we can take you to her. Please.”

She hesitated for a moment.

“She teaches me stuff about music,” Ellie said quickly. “How to play some stuff on guitar, too, but more about music in general. She’s cool. Really. I’m… I’m sure she wants to see you again. And Jackson’s nice. And so are we. Just come along, OK?”

She took a deep breath, looking down at the dog for a moment, adjusting her grip on the rifle.

“OK.”

***

“She’s in rare fucking form this week,” Olivia said, watching as you steadied Persephone, one of the fillies you were working with.

“She’s just got an independent streak,” you said, the horse’s feet stomping impatiently in the dirt. “That’s OK. I get that. So do the best of us, right?”

She huffed and jerked her large head. You smiled a little.

“You’re sure she’s not gonna throw you?” Olivia asked, sounding a little worried.

“No,” you shrugged. “But I’ve gotten thrown off horses before, nothin’ new. Only way to break her is to break her, no point in stalling. You in a good spot?”

“Think so,” she said, stepping a little further back from the horse as you got ready to mount her.

“Then let’s go,” you said, all but jumping onto Persephone’s back. You barely got your foot in the stirrups before she started really bucking, Olivia moving even further away. You clutched the reins in one hand and let your hips go loose, digging your heels down toward the earth to stay seated. You let your body move with her as she hurled herself through the air, desperate to dislodge you. But you weren’t going anywhere. She gave you a good shake that made you grab the back of the saddle but otherwise, she didn’t get anywhere close to throwing you. After a while, she started to calm, her movements still sharp and harsh but closer to the earth, her hooves staying on the ground more often than not. Eventually, she mostly stilled, just tossing her head and huffing indignantly.

“See?” You said soothingly, reaching forward to pat her neck. “That’s my good girl, you did so well…”

“Bambi,” Olivia said, catching your eye. She nodded toward the gate to the paddock and you frowned a little before you followed her gaze.

Standing there was Joel and Ellie, their reins in their hands. But between them was a girl. She was young, a teenager, with springy curls and brown skin and wide, soft eyes.

You knew those eyes. You knew those eyes and that hair and that skin. For a moment, the world shrank to a small point centered on her and you wondered if, maybe, you’d finally lost your mind. If something had finally broken so thoroughly that you were seeing things.

But you weren’t. She was here. Your daughter was alive and she was here, in Jackson.

“Savvy,” you breathed and Persephone bucked below you. You weren’t paying attention to the horse and you flew off her back and into the dirt, landing with a brain rattling thud. You didn’t care.

You scrambled to your feet, throwing a glance back at Olivia to make sure she had Persephone so Savvy wouldn’t get hurt, and ran for her.

“Mom,” she said, her voice thick as you reached her and pulled her into yourself. You clutched her to your chest until you thought you could feel her heartbeat alongside yours, clinging to her too close to even kiss her or look at her but you needed to feel the life in her first, soak up the vitality of her before someone took it away.

“You’re alive,” you managed, voice thick. You buried your nose and mouth in her hair, breathing her in. “You’re alive, you’re here, you’re OK, you’re…”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said wetly and you pulled back from her just enough to look at her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she sniffed as you took her face in your hands. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, I thought you were gone, I…”

“I’m so sorry baby,” you kissed her forehead before pulling her against you again and clinging to her. “I’m so sorry I let you go, I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s OK Mom,” she said, her hands holding your elbows. “I’m OK, it’s OK, I promise…”

You just held on to her, trying to memorize everything about her that you could. That she was taller now, that her shape had changed, that it seemed like she hadn’t had a chance to really grow into her limbs yet.

You looked up at Joel who was still there, his eyes wet, watching you hold your daughter.

“You found her,” you said softly.

He just nodded.

“Found her,” he said. “Couldn’t have without you, though. With everything you told me about her, was able to find her.”

You just nodded, running your hand down the back of her head as you held her.

“Thank you, Joel,” you whispered, holding her so tight that you were worried you might hurt her but too afraid that she’d slip away to stop. “Thank you.”

Next Chapter

A/N: AHHHH SAVVY'S HERE!!!!

And Joel found her. I'm so happy that Bambi has her baby back, for real. Things are getting there. I promise.

Thanks so much for reading and sticking with this story! Don't forget that you can get updates on my updates blog here.

Love you!!

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#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

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lady-raziel · 10 days

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Cna i... Can I ask what the beef is with M Night Shyamalan?

fair warning, this is a self-indulgently long post. but if you endure the page break, you may find the story entertaining.

a long time ago...in a small indie comic book shop in downtown Philadelphia...

picture this. it's circa 2016. my hyperfixation at the time is DC Comics-- the Flash specifically. I like the Flash, but I really like his nemesis, the Reverse Flash. This guy's gimmick is that he has the same powers as the Flash, but he's also evil because he used to be a Flash stan and his idol didn't validate their parasocial relationship when they actually met in person, and now he just wants to kill the Flash instead. It's a long story. Reverse Flash has died many times. He's also from the future, but that's not the important bit right now.

Anyway, despite being one of the Flash's main enemies, there are not that many comic book issues that feature the Reverse Flash for some reason. My main hobby at the time of this whole ordeal is to go to the local comic book shops and search through the bins of back issues to find anything with the Reverse Flash in it (bonus points if he's on the cover, but at a certain point you can't be picky). I'd been fairly successful at this, and had even been able to avoid buying too much off Ebay as I really didn't care too much about the condition or grade of the comics. The comic book shop in downtown Philly I was in on the day of the Incident was one I'd been to before, but not in a while as I went to school out in the suburbs and didn't leave that general area too much.

So. I enter this shop, and it's not too busy. That's a good thing as it's not a large space and if there were too many people it would have been very difficult to navigate around the displays of Funko Pops and tables of back issues. However, as I was soon about to find out, it doesn't matter if there's only one other person shopping at the same time as you if that person is the wrong person.

I make my way to the back where all the big boxes of old comics are, and scan the rows alphabetically to find the 'Fs.' I see 'Firestorm,' and 'Fantastic Four,' and all the others...but there, right there, where the Flash comics should be...there's a guy. Standing there. In the way.

Now, that's alright. He just seemed to be perusing randomly and wasn't actually looking at the Flash comics specifically (my Flash comics), and I can just go look at the action figures or something until he moves to another section of the shop. No problem. I mean, it's one box of comics, Harold. How long does it take to look through it? 5 minutes? No, all I have to do is wait a little bit and then I can examine those 1980s Flash comics with my own grubby little paws.

So I do a loop of the store. I examine the Funko Pops (they all look the same), the t-shirts (only Hot Topic quality), the new comics (Superman #1? How many times are they going to reboot this thing?), and even the super expensive vintage comics up on the wall (no Reverse Flash here, and it would still be beyond my price point anyway). But when I finally make my way back to the back issues, the guy...is still there. He hasn't moved. And now he's not even pretending to look at the comics anymore.

Now, to my horror, he seems to be having a full-on conversation with one of the store employees right on top of my box of comics, and neither of them seem like they plan to end this discussion anytime soon. You may be asking at this point, "well Raz, if you wanted to look at the comics where they were standing, why didn't you just ask them to move out of the way?" You're right. I could have done that.

But problem. I have social anxiety. And sometimes it gets very bad about very small things. So while it would have been entirely reasonable to ask these two men to move their conversation elsewhere, the crippling social anxiety made it so that asking for that very small and reasonable thing would have been akin to asking these guys if they would set me on fire right here right now, please and thank you. It wasn't gonna happen. My only option was to hover uncomfortably 6 feet away, pretending to go through the back issues systematically and hope they picked up on what I was doing and moved out of the way when I got back to the 'Fs,' or give up and suffer an hour and a half on the SEPTA train back home with nothing to show for it.

now, i've never had a conversation with famous filmmaker and director M Night Shyamalan. I didn't even know what he looked like at the time, so when all this happened I thought he was just Some Guy who in his unawareness was keeping me from completing my mission. Maybe he's a really engaging conversationalist and talking with him causes you to not notice anything going on around you. That may even be the case-- as neither the Twistmaster himself or the besotted store employee seemed to notice I was there. But I WAS there. And my frantic silent social cues were being "returned to sender," unread.

Meanwhile I was enduring a level of internal turmoil on the level of a character in a Greek tragedy. This was my crucible. Surrender, or do something I was honor-bound not to do. Was this the meaning of an impossible choice?

It was only after almost 15 long, agonizing minutes and two more laps of the store on my part that finally, finally there was a breakthrough. Unaware Man (for this would be Shyamalan's superhero code name) and Employee-Bro had moved to the cash register, as the former had found something he wanted to buy. With speed rivaling the Flash himself, I descended on the fated box of comics like a plague. It seemed that the day had not been lost after all.

However, like any film from the man himself, there was to be a final twist to this tale. One last turn of the knife. You might be thinking-- "And it turned out that there weren't any comics in the box you wanted to buy after all, rendering this whole ordeal meaningless, right? Like any tragic hero you endured the terrible trials only to discover that the treasure you sought was a hollow fantasy of your own creation, and this all could have been avoided if you had not fallen prey to the follies of man?"

No. The problem was-- I did find several comics in that box that I wanted to buy. I even found one with the Reverse Flash on the cover. But now that I had found my prize, I faced a new, even greater challenge, which was somewhat an extension of the old challenge, but to the extreme.

I now had to get Employee-Bro to ring me up so I could leave this cursed place, but here's the kicker: I had to do this while he was still utterly engaged in discussion with Unaware Man and thus blind to the outside world. I had come out of the frying pan and into the fire, because now it wasn't like I could just go home and take only a feeling of defeat with me. My precious comic book finds were on the line, and what was I going to do? Just put them back in the box and leave?

Unfortunately, I was committed. I would have to stand reasonably out of the way of Unaware Man's personal space yet close enough to indicate that I was, yes, in line to check out my purchases. And goddamnit, I was going to do this until all of us died of old age or the world ended.

I kind of lost all sense of time at that point. It could have been only a few minutes. It could have been five hours. All I know is that it was long enough that I wished for the sweet release of death, because then at least I'd be able to lie down. How it eventually went down was that Employee-Bro rung up Unaware Man (because really, processing a credit card transaction and signing the receipt only can take so long), and the two continued to talk as Employee-Bro gradually gained awareness that I Was There Too, and multitasked to check out my items while remaining totally focused on his other conversation and not speaking a word to me.

And that was it. I was free, from the physical prison of the comic book store at least. But again, like a Shyamalan film, this was in reality only the end of the second act. Because as I walked through the streets of Center City Philadelphia and rested my head against the smudged window of the SEPTA train on the way home, I started to descend into the mental turmoil of the question, "wait, who was that guy? Was he like...famous, or something?"

If you've ever been to a comic con or spent enough time in a hobby shop, you know that sometimes Nerd Bros can get really deep into conversation about these sorts of things. Many of them even have lots of opinions on films, and will be happy to share them in detail unprompted. So it wasn't entirely unreasonable for me not to realize in the moment that what was happening wasn't just "Nerd Bros Being Dudes."

But the more I thought about it, the one-sided adoring dynamic between Employee Bro and Unaware Man did seem unusual. And in the bits of their conversation that I had been forced to endure, hadn't one of them mentioned something about...filming locations? What was that about? Nobody in their right mind films stuff in Philly unless they're making the 86th Rocky film or the like.

It was a Google search of "movies filming in Philadelphia" that returned several results of articles talking about how location scouting was going on in the area as part of the production of a long-awaited sequel to the 2000 film Unbreakable, a undercover superhero sleeper hit. Unbreakable, a film set in Philadelphia, written and directed by famous filmmaker M Night Shyamalan.

Shyamalan. SHYAMALAN. the man responsible for 2010's The Last Airbender. it was HIM. he was not only the man who originated the (still unbroken!) curse on the Avatar franchise, but also the man who had ruined my day. Thoughtlessly. Carelessly. Not by massacring a beloved children's television franchise, but by being unaware. Inconceivable.

This was horrific. It wasn't even like I was the Reverse Flash or any other famous superhero nemesis, who had a compelling backstory causing their undying hatred of the hero. Instead, I now had a narrative foil who barely even fit that description, because chances are he hadn't even taken notice of my existence the whole time! This was my supervillain origin story, and it was his normal day!

It was at this moment I swore an oath. I would not forget this terrible day of inconvenience that was partially caused by my own social failings. I would dedicate my life from this point forward to slightly narrowing my eyes and shaking my head disapprovingly when I saw mentions of Shyamalan or his works online. I would color any opinions I had of his films with the thought, "but remember that one time he was kind of a dick to you without even meaning it? what was up with that?"

and that is the tale of my tragic encounter with M Night Shyamalan. To this day, my only solace is that my epic origin story turned out more narratively coherent and with deeper substance than any other film made in the Unbreakable saga, including the one he was location scouting for at the time this happened. Shyamalan can write twists all he wants, but no one is better at that game than karma itself.

-END-

#not included in this narrative retelling: me raising a fist into the air and shouting 'SHYAMALAN!!!' like i'm in star trek wrath of khan #if you read all that you deserve a medal #if there's ever a cinematic adaptation of this event it can only be made by shyamalan himself

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 9 months

Text

Stolen | Canonverse Angst Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ 1.3k ✧ notes ➼ canonverse, implied soulmates!au, angst, death, levi being in pain :(, all hurt no comfort, i'm not sorry, idk if this is any good but if i didnt post i was going to rip my hair out plus it gave me an excuse to make some sad sad gifs ✧ warnings: blood, death, canonverse-typical violence, prepare for sadness :)

Even successful expeditions were rarely anything to celebrate. There were generally too many people that died to really make any result worth it. Even if it did technically move humanity forward, the loss of human life always made victory seem somewhat sinister.

This expedition certainly didn't go well, but no one died, which was already something that was practically unheard of. Levi was able to easily account for everyone assigned to his flank, however he had no way of confirming the survival of the soldiers in the left flank—the one you had been assigned to.

Externally, he wasn't too worried. You were capable. Your squad was capable. However, competency and capability could only get you so far. That was how much of an advantage the Titans had over humanity.

Plus, he shouldn't even be having the selfish thought of wanting to immediately confirm your survival. You were supposed to be just another soldier. There was no reason as to why he should prioritize you over anyone else that had come onto the battlefield with him.

Levi sighed to himself as he blatantly told himself that lie. He knew it was a lie. He hated that it was a lie, but your relationship had long moved past the point of being professional.

He remembered the conflicting thoughts that stirred within him when he woke up next to you earlier that morning. The two of you had made a habit of going to see each other the night before an expedition, starting the night off with discussing your shared ire over the world you found yourselves living in before it quickly escalated into another form of stress relief that involved elated breaths and intertwined legs.

You'd see each other, sleep with each other, and then go on your separate ways. This morning was the first one in which Levi didn't immediately leave upon waking. He was usually quick to leave, occasionally electing to avoid staying the night entirely.

The only reason for this was that he didn't want to catch feelings for you. He knew it was a slippery slope, which was why he found himself so pissed that morning when he was forced to admit to himself that he did catch them. He could picture the exact moment that he had realized it. You were stirring in your sleep and a part of him longed for the idea of waking up to that one peaceful moment every day—with the sun shining through the window and you curling up against his chest.

It was just sex at first. It was a good stress relief and you were both easy on the eyes. He had consistently distanced himself emotionally, even on the few occasions in which you would ask him to stay for a while longer on especially stressful nights. He didn't want to get involved in a relationship when either of you could die at any moment, but it was getting harder and harder to stay away from you, and even harder to get himself to leave your bed in the mornings.

Sure, it was just sex—until it wasn't.

It was driving him nuts. He couldn't possibly see himself continuing this friends-with-benefits relationship with you, but he didn't want to cut you off either. He wanted, and needed more.

He had spent the majority of the lengthy ride back to Wall Rose strategizing over how to approach this. Levi had already made up his mind that he was going to bring up the idea of committing. He felt almost pressured to do so. He wanted you by his side, and not just as someone that was readily available whenever he needed to fuck.

He knew some type of celebration was going to occur once they got back to the Walls, given the fact that no one died. It helped keep morale up. He knew you hated how rowdy those could get, so he figured a good opportunity would be to walk you outside to finally have that talk, or maybe he could just go to you as soon as you were back within the Walls and the both of you could spare a minute to be alone.

Levi was sick of waiting and dancing around or avoiding the topic entirely. No matter what happened next, he was determined to show you that your feelings were reciprocated, and not by just a small amount. He couldn't rest until he took that next step to commit himself to being by your side.

~~~~~

Disaster struck. Of course disaster fucking struck. Levi should've anticipated this the minute he noticed that there were next to no Titans on his side of the travel formation.

There was a stench of blood and death in the air as soon as he reached the rendezvous point. The left flank had been ambushed by multiple aberrants. They were still in the process of searching for and retrieving survivors, but the preliminary conclusion was that nearly the entire left flank was wiped out.

Levi currently stood still, his eyes falling on a drape that covered a suspiciously familiar looking body. He was standing only about a foot or two away, with his hand hovering over the corner. All he had to do was lift it to confirm whether it was you or not, but he already knew.

The longer he held off from confirming it, the longer he could continue telling himself that you were okay, and that he can still hold onto the hope that he would still get that chance to tell you what had been brewing underneath the surface.

He took in an unsteady breath and forced himself to grab onto the drape, trying to contain his shaking.

Levi took an unsteady step back, dropping the drape as soon as he came into contact with your eyes, now lifeless.

Every single shared (and occasionally stolen) moment with you flashed through his mind. Those lifeless eyes of yours were once filled with mischief, pain, lust, glee, and hope. He remembered how annoyed he'd get with your tenacity, and how that tenacity ended up contributing to the fact that you were the only person that he felt like could really be competent on the battlefield against the Titans. Your competency was why, even after countless failed expeditions, his faith in you to make it back to the Walls was unwavering.

You had become an odd source of comfort for him. Even when he was actively denying his feelings for you, there was still a huge part of him that would feel safe around you. When he was with you, he wasn't Humanity's Strongest, he was just Levi, and that made you a source of stability in his life that he had been lacking elsewhere.

From the minute that he set eyes on you after you joined the Scouts, he knew that something was different about you, and that there was something drawing him to you. He avoided admitting it for years, and now that he did admit to it, it was too late.

A dark, but unreadable expression fell over Levi Ackerman's face.

He knew.

He had known this for years. He knew that his curse was that the moment that he decided that he wanted something was the exact moment that he lost it.

He knew that you were supposed to be here with him, alive and well, and not as a mangled corpse that resulted from their war with the Titans.

He finally recognized that it was you that was supposed to be by his side, but not in this lifetime—not anymore.

Your life—the life the both of you were supposed to share—had been stolen from him in the blink of an eye.

#: @chaotic-on-main @romantichomicide95 @levisbrat25 @leviismybby @moonmalice @averysmolbear @cathybarn @tclbts @belovedackerman @bejewelledd @sad-darksoul @ackermendick @aomi04 @apolloshaiku @laraackerman @pulpolicia @raenacreates @nube55 @roseofdarknessblog @saenora @noctemys @sixpennydame @sleepyfairyxo @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @levis-squishy-cheeks @dumbfound-princess @evas-leslas @kokosmiles @mrsmiagreer @catskze join my taglist! and pls pls lmk if you wanna be taken off :')

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackermann x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi angst #levi #levi ackerman #levi ackermann #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

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lurkingshan · 3 months

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Japanese QL Corner

ICYMI: There are so many Japanese qls airing weekly, so I’m going to start posting this little round up at the end of each week. All but one of these are on Gaga and I highly recommend watching!

Chaser Game W

Fuyu got a personality transplant this week and I have officially given up on this show being what I hoped it was. Enjoy the mess and the humiliation kink and don't look for consistent writing, logical plot, or deeper themes and you will find some things to enjoy. Like these two beautiful ladies making out a bunch!

Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yara ka

I love this show so much, y'all. This week we got the return of Sakae's selfish chaos ex, Mizuki, and because this is a show by and for adults, this resulted in our leads engaging in some proper communication, clarifying their feelings for each other, and sharing their first kiss by the end of the episode. I loved seeing more of Sakae and Mizuki's dynamic, and I just know if Soga wasn't in the picture Mizuki would already be in with Sakae again. Sakae is a soft touch and Mizuki clearly knows how to play him. But thankfully, Soga has already wormed his way into Sakae's loyal heart, so he was not tempted to waver. And for Soga, who is experiencing a queer awakening via his relationship with Sakae, Mizuki's presence was a much needed jolt to sort out his own feelings and decide he wants to try a relationship despite his concerns about not staying in Osaka long-term. I also loved the way their friends rallied around them to push Sakae and Soga to figure their shit out, and the sauna scenes will never get old.

Perfect Propose

It's official, I have adopted Kai as my child and will be forming a protection squad. This show is striking a good tonal balance of being fairly downbeat and serious, between Kai's past and Hiro's current work/life balance issues, but also uplifting in how their relationship builds. I like that they talk to each other so honestly about what they're feeling for each other, and Kai's quiet confidence that Hiro returns his feelings and just needs to come to terms with it is both hilarious and correct. My favorite thing that happened in this episode was Kai confidently noting all the ways Hiro’s body was responding to him and asking him to “be conscious of it.” Kai wants Hiro to be conscious of Kai’s feelings but also of his own responses, and he’s asking him not to look away from it and pretend he doesn’t know there’s something between them. I love the confidence of that.

And I sympathize with Hiro, as well, because it's not just that he's never considered being with a man before--he also just doesn't feel he has anything to offer to a partner right now given his brutal work situation. His guilt and shame for missing the festival after inviting Kai to go together was real, and you can see that he just can’t fathom having anything to give with the situation he’s in at work right now. The trick will be trusting that Kai can accept those limitations until he’s able to find a better balance, and then actually taking steps to pay attention to what he needs and wants, both in this relationship and in his career. Hiro has not been taking care of himself and it's catching up to him.

Ossan's Love Returns

A downbeat week for this show, and an episode that did not entirely work for me. I liked some of the themes they were exploring in this one, but it was all missing the humor that I've come to rely on and I don't feel that all the story threads pulled together as tightly as they normally do. In particular, my head is inquisitively tilted at the show's decision to make Maki and Haruta's wedding episode feel like such a misery slog, to focus primarily on the tension and strife leading up to the event rather than the joy it should inspire, and then to stay in the melancholy after a small moment of catharsis for our couple (and some season 1 flashbacks) by focusing on the sadness their marriage inspired in their various lonely suitors rather than their own wedded bliss. Seeing a wedding in jbl is a practically unheard of occurrence; a bit more queer joy was in order IMO and its absence was notable. I also thought the swing from Kurosawa beginning to accept a new role in Haruta’s life to suddenly going back to being lovelorn felt abrupt and poorly constructed. It's not that I think these ideas are unfounded given the show's focus on older male characters who feel past their prime for romance, but the execution was not quite right. And of course I am not too keen on the death flagging we got at the end for Kurosawa; I really hope the show will not take this story in a tragic direction for him.

Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna 2

I have still only seen the first four episodes of this; sadly, the next batch is not yet available to me. But soon! In the meantime, let's revisit Nomoto sobbing over a lesbian film. She's just like me fr.

Next week we'll be continuing all of these plus adding My Strawberry Film, the final Drama Shower (go here for an explanation on what that is from @bengiyo) show for the season! I continue to be delighted by this embarrassment of jql riches.

#chaser game w #sukiyanen kedo do yaro ka #perfect propose #ossan's love returns #tsukuritai onna to tabetai onna #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #japanese bl #japanese gl #japanese ql corner #shan shouts into the void

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overleftdown · 4 months

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farleigh start thoughts

this is going to be a very random, very eclectic post. i just wanted to share some stuff that i can't figure out how to post independently. some headcanons, some commentary, some references... who knows. probably just a lot of yabbering.

"keep the rain" by searows. dude. just listen to the lyrics, i swear.

i was wondering about what the cattons really give farleigh. there's kind of... endless possibilities. his family in america is emotionally neglectful, but how do the cattons differ? i can imagine that having felix and venetia, two people of similar ages that he can glue himself to, is important to him. i also think that frederica start is an overlooked aspect of farleigh's character. e.i. he needs to have some semblance of closeness with the cattons if he has a chance at convincing them to financially support his mom. i think his ultimate mistake when confronting felix was perhaps centering himself, when the conversation was originally about frederica. although farleigh needed to finally say what he knew all along; he's different, and he's being treated differently because of it. i digress; farleigh wants companionship, a loud and distracting lifestyle, the security that only wealth can give you, and the possibility of helping his mom. that's how i sum it up, at least.

although farleigh is prone to escapism (into his wealth, into drugs, into his social life, into the games he plays), he doesn't seem as committed to cognitive dissociation as the rest of the cattons. i don't think farleigh is deluded by the wealth and power he has access to; i actually think it's the opposite. he is so hyper-vigilant of what he can lose that he's entirely aware that he doesn't know how to exist without wealth. the rest of the cattons have convinced themselves that wealth isn't an inherent part of them (elspeth with her odd anecdotes that imply she's a worldly woman, felix with his down-to-earth "i'm beyond classism" attitude, venetia with her general boredom of wealth and everything attached to wealth). farleigh never has that attitude. he knows exactly who he is with wealth, and he's terrified of what he will face without wealth. how would he cope with his sometimes-debilitating otherness? how would he have any power, any control, if not wealth and status? (this is a warped perception of reality, but i believe that's the perspective that comes with omnipresent wealth since you were born).

i think that farleigh would smother his room in pictures. i mean all kinds of media. films he likes, artists he likes (beyonce, justin timberlake, gwen stefani, aaliyah, madonna), pictures of new york, polaroids, photo booth strips, favorite travel locations (greece, italy, LA, germany, whatever), chad from hsm because that's his hair inspo, vogue magazine clippings- jesus, dare i say... postcards? i'm picturing anything and everything. but let's say that farleigh is a very private person. i mean, he's a professional hider, secret keeper, "inside thoughts" kind of person. i'm imagining anything just slightly too personal would be kept in a box. maybe that same box he keeps his cocaine! family pictures, baby pictures, personal photography (would it be bold to imagine farleigh as a notorious street photographer?), old knick knacks like his first friendship bracelets or seashells he found on the beach. i'm getting carried away. farleigh seems like the type to consume, linger, consider. i feel like anyone who wears gucci loafers also has an immense amount of sentimental material.

farleigh doesn't like english food that much.

farleigh is clearly able to apply himself in an academic setting, if the tutoring session is anything to go by. he takes a gamble on whether spending time with people is more beneficial than actually doing his work, and maybe he's just a little bit bored by school. but at the same time, he listened to oliver's entire essay and counted each individual time that oliver said "thus." where the tutor wasn't even listening, farleigh made the choice to specifically comment on oliver's rhetorical content because he understands how to apply yourself academically, even if you've yet to get around to the actual assignment. so.

i think farleigh likes to read. clearly felix, vee, and farleigh all made an agreement to read harry potter together. but i'm also imagining farleigh as a sort of classic literature, historical drama, and romance type of reader. i just think he'd get a kick out of it. i imagine his myspace page genuinely contained moments where he shared book plot like it was school drama.

based on archie's information about how he was asked to audition for farleigh, i think that farleigh speaks to his mom less often and very casually. in a few of archie's interviews, he said he was asked to mimic a phone call with the character's mom while he talked about guys he slept with recently. i think farleigh learned to avoid attempting any substantial conversation with frederica from a fairly young age (also from what archie has said about farleigh's dynamic with his mom). there's a level of both maturity and immaturity to farleigh's relationship with frederica. frederica clings to youth and avoids traditional aspects of motherhood. farleigh had to meet her in this odd middle ground, speaking to her like a friend that's similar in age to him. i can imagine that very few people have had any genuine, serious, emotional conversations with farleigh. like archie has said, farleigh and felix's heated confrontation has never happened before. farleigh doesn't say shit about what he's feeling or thinking.

farleigh and the cattons is so GAH. familial but transactional, familial but not quite. the cattons resolutely ignore the massive elephant in the room that is their inability to let go of how they view farleigh. "dad felt so guilty that he agreed to pay for all of farleigh's education," which also implies that farleigh is only living with the cattons because james has roped himself into this odd situation where farleigh is being shipped to england for school. now that he kinda has to stay with them based on that one agreement, it would also be weird if the cattons didn't treat farleigh the same as felix and venetia. i'm getting carried away. supporting a family member isn't supposed to be on the basis of guilt or pity. there is supposed to be... love? like, c'mon. this makes farleigh's relationship with his cousins odd. venetia believes farleigh is spoiled ("talk about biting the hand"), felix agrees that farleigh is there for entertainment. both comments didn't sit very well with me. the normal family dynamic is shrouded in this strange obligatory and transactional attitude. odd. odd odd odd.

YOUR BEST AMERICAN GIRL BY MITSKI

nothing, just farleigh's relationship with sex and how abysmally unhealthy it is, actually. and also the fact that oliver coerced him sexually GAH. i see this character and he makes me insane to be so honest.

he had to mourn both his cousins ALONE??

i hope farleigh eventually does something incredibly sinister and conniving and mean to oliver.

okay i'm done. hope you enjoyed... all of that.

#farleigh start #such a USED and ABUSED tag #good gravy #I FORGOT ABOUT “good gravy”#white people cooked w that one #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #archie madekwe #me when farleigh when farleigh when farleigh?#i made my friend watch saltburn with me and now i'm thinking a lot #this hyperfixation feels endless #which just means that it will most definitely end #i'm kinda loving it rn though #SALTBURNNNNNNNN

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ecogirl2759 · 6 months

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~~~NEW UPDATE~~~

(I'M A DUMBASS WHO DOESN'T KNOW HOW TUMBLR WORKS SO IF YOU SAW THIS ALREADY NO YOU DIDN'T)

I'm glad people liked my 4コマ KINGS post so much lol. I love spreading the word about obscure lore :)

Under the cut I've responded to some of my favorite tags, given a little more backstory into the source of these pictures, as well as posted a few new ones :D

There's also a question at the very bottom that I'd love to hear opinions on, but no pressure if y'all don't feel comfortable answering ^w^

You're welcome >:D

Same, bro. I was basically thinking that the entire time I was reading these books lol

I feel like I should give a little context to these comics and where they come from lol. I wasn't very clear about the backstory in my original post. I do agree, when I found these, I thought they were super important, too, particularly because I don't think a lot of the fandom knows about these books lol.

The Danganronpa 4コマ KINGS anthology series was published in the early 2010's featuring a bunch of different artists. The series is 4 volumes long and published by Spike Chunsoft, meaning, while these aren't necessarily canon, they ARE official :)

There is another series of anthologies in relation to both the first and second games, but I don't have those.

The first two volumes of this series is relatively well documented. There are sites where English translations have already been added to all of the comics in them (I'm pretty sure), as well as some screenshots popping up on places like Pinterest.

The third and fourth installments, however, are really poorly archived. The third has some content from it floating around, but it's hard to come by. The fourth had almost no information on it no matter where I searched.

I say this because a while ago I found the ONLY pictures of the Mastermind!Taka comic on this really old Tumblr blog from 2014 and REALLY wanted to figure out what it was about. (Didn't help that I couldn't read some of the bubbles in those photos.) First I searched for an English translation (there wasn't (so I'm working on one hehe)), then I tried to find which book it was even from, and NOTHING!

These books, since they were in circulation around 2014-ish, have stopped being printed, so copies of them are very hard to come by. Luckily, I was able to get my copies from a kind stranger on Ebay :)

-NOW-

Here are a few more pictures that I thought were funny/interesting that I couldn't add in my first post because of the picture limit lol.

Sorry for the really long post, I just thought it'd be interesting to share :)

Here's the page of artists that contributed to this anthology! Please go check them out (or see if they have any socials since it's been so long). Some credits change per volume, hence how many photos there are. (And sorry for my hand, it's hard to hold these open lol.)

You've probably all seen the covers, but have you seen what's behind the covers? (Also including the opening illustrations. These have probably been posted online already as well, but they're worth including imo.) (Again, please excuse the fingers, I'm trying my best ;-;)

^ Sayaka came with a smudge :( she still pretty tho

So, uh, remember when I said Hifumi made ship fodder? ......Here it is. Eat your heart out lol

Also remember when I said that Mondo's hair was fluffy and bouncy? Here's the proof:

Sakura has been de-buff-ified twice LMAO

ALSO remember when I said Syo was a fan of BL? ...... :)

ALSO remember when I said Kyoko was kinda socially awkward?

(Context: Kyoko sees Kiyotaka and Mondo calling each other bro and, thinking it'll strengthen their bond as well, calls Makoto "Makoto-oniichan," or "big brother Makoto" lol. Also, second picture says "I have come to save you, Makoto")

Chihiro Shinji chair meme

I'm at my picture cap, but there's a lot I haven't brought up lol

-SO-

For a different thread, would people like me to find pictures of certain characters? (i.e. just photos of the characters looking cool/hot/stupid without a lot of the text.) Because I am totally willing to do that :)

I've already got a lot on Byakuya, Sakura, Aoi and Mondo for all you simps out there, and it's not hard to find even more lol.

So lmk :D

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witchofthesouls · 3 days

Note

So this is based off of my own personal medical experience as well as my mutual love for aliens being terrified of humans (aka Humans are Space Orcs)

We set the scene as follows; TFP Megatron and Soundwave having a human mate who is pregnant and due. The problem? Hybrid baby is having trouble coming out ‘naturally’ and has to be delivered via a C-section.

To describe a c-section accurately, you are pealed like a literally onion - layers being cut to reach your organs and uterus. Despite popular belief, your organs are not taken out during a c-section but they are moved aside in order to reach the baby. Once baby is taken out, organs are still there as they should and mama is stitched up. It’s by no means an ‘easy’ surgery both during and after for recovery.

I picture both holoformed Soundwave and Megatron supporting wifey and one of them (probably Megs) takes a peak behind the cover and sees his wife’s organs and baby possibly being yanked out and at the most probably pales (most dads either vomit or pass out).

I would like to add in some culture clash to go with the "humans are space fae/orcs" vibe we got here.

I'm thinking it's a post-war TFP au, so it makes sense how there's humans and Cybertronian medical personnel in this shindig.

For some reason, the newspark refuses to detach themselves from their latches inside the womb, even as it contracts in a vain attempt to evict them.

26 hours later and no progress in stage 2, the human carrier getting a C-section to fish out the barely six-pound metal infant as staff figure out how to manually detach the nutrient connective tendrils.

It takes the infant a moment to find their voice, but they do and don't like the cold air! Wailing their displeasure to everyone around.

It's not the worst Megatron and Soundwave had seen, but they're in the middle of stoically grieving that it came to this point, and they have no idea how the human will take it because the human wanted a large family-

Until, still high and exhausted from the entire ordeal, the human carrier blurts out to give them a year or two. Part to heal and part to psych up for another 2.5 years of pregnancy because it's the other mech's turn to spark a new one.

The Cybertronians get a crash course on how humans are able to repair internal damage to a certain extent, which includes their equivalent of a gestational chamber. It's a wonderment to them because surgical intervention during an active carriage is the Cybertronian equivalent of a hysterectomy.

The C-section scar gets a lot of attention from Megatron and Soundwave. It's their favorite scar.

(And because Megatron is the one that initially sparked this one, it's a girl.)

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gracieheartspedro · 8 months

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I Will Leave Your Words

description: what does grief look like? truly? how would it feel to watch the man you love get completely taken from you, just completely out of the blue?

word count: 1.1k

warnings: ANGST. that’s it. mentions of death, blood, and murder. talking in detail about grief. this is literally a drabble as to what joel’s lover would feel like if she had been there after he was murdered. that’s it.

authors note: hi lovers. I posted about this already but I watched this tik tok: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8224mye/

and I instantly felt the need to write what I would feel if I was joel’s lover and witnessing his death. I enjoy writing angst for some reason. I think this is some of my best writing. please let me know if you want more stuff like this. thanks!

and because you two asked for it. dedicated to @jenispunk and @ilovepedro <3

You don’t remember what you saw that afternoon, you only remember the taste of the air. Metallic.

You were cornered, your body weak and full of grief. You couldn’t find the words. You leave once they wrap up the body and begin planning how to take it home.

The body.

That same body that was wrapped around you in the early morning hours. It was just a body now.

You knew your presence was needed, but you didn’t have answers for anyone. You didn’t have any input on what should happen next. What happened fucking happened before you had a say in the matter. When Jesse is asking who you’re riding back with, you just tell him you’ll walk.

“It’s a 5 mile hike,” He mutters, trying to reason with you. But there was no reasoning. You had just lost your other half and you were trying to figure out how that was even possible.

Sure, you had lost everyone in your life, but he wasn’t supposed to die. He was supposed to outlive everyone, his luck never running out. But on some random winter day, the tragedy of him came to a close. And you didn’t understand how that could happen. How could he just be gone?

You needed to be alone. You didn’t want to watch them haul his limp body back to Jackson. You didn’t want to face Tommy or Ellie. You didn’t want to face the truth.

As soon as you start your way down to the entrance of the lodge, you hear Dina trying to get Ellie to come with her. But she’s a lot like you. There’s no reasoning with someone who experienced what she experienced. They made her watch.

Your hands were already numb from the cold. You start treading up a steep hill, away from the ski lodge. You prayed you’d run into the crew who brutally took him from you. It’s rageful and complete rejection of the truth, this feeling you have in the pit of your stomach. You know it’s going to fester, blossoming all over your skin.

The crunch of the snow is repetitive. You’re walking in a steady rhythm.

You start to picture his face, it’s hazy and contorted in that grimace he used to make at you sometimes. He was perfect in your mind. His speckled and slowly wrinkling face. His gray hair, peppered through out the darker chocolate brown locks. His large and warm hands, that would cup your chin when you kissed him as he walked through the threshold of your home. His booming laugh you only heard once and awhile. He was all encompassing, his radiance filled your entire being with love and security.

It would be your 4 year anniversary next month.

And he was not going to be there for it.

You’d have to sit at his grave, planting yourself there like a tree. Maybe if you grew roots, you could be closer to him.

You hear movement behind you, spotting a lonely Tommy on horseback. He was beaten pretty bad, but it seems that now that he’s conscious, he’s able to ride by himself. He calls after you, but your ears are practically ringing. You freeze anyway, waiting for him to approach. He hops down from the large creature, reaching out to touch your wet and frozen body.

“We can’t have you dyin’ out here, darlin’,” He mutters, his voice cracking, “Listen, I kn-”

“Just… let’s go home.”

You two mount the horse, you wrapping your cold arms around his frigid middle. You place your head on his back, letting your tears trickle down your face. They practically turn to crystals when they reach your chin.

The ride is painfully long and quiet. You and Tommy don’t see anyone else on your trek, finally spotting Jackson’s gate in the distance. People are waiting, the doors wide open and letting in a crew of people.

When the horse halts in the middle of the crowd, you hop down. You stumble a bit, trying to remember what the ground feels like. Everyone was watching you, too wary to say anything or do anything. You knew you probably looked a mess, your cheeks frosted and red.

“Hey,” You hear her small voice behind you. It’s Ellie, she’s has this glazed over look. She can’t say anything else and you can’t return with any words either. Instead, you just grab her shaking hands and start to walk home. Past everyone’s glances and gasps. She squeezes your hand sporadically, expecting nothing but a returning squeeze.

You get to the front of the house, staring up the concrete stairs. You wanted to scream. What the hell were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to go in there and resume your life?

“Want to come to my place?”

You look at her, waiting for her to dissipate from your sight, too. Not that you wanted her to, you wanted to keep her around forever. But you were waiting for another rug to be pulled out from under you.

Her nose is still crusted with blood, her lip split open. She was completely wasting away right before your eyes.

“Yeah,” You finally say, your throat dry from not speaking for so long, “Need to clean you up.”

You two spend the rest of the night together. She was in shock, the full realization not hitting her until you crack again and start sobbing. You hold each other, rocking back and forth. Ellie was the only person who got it. She knew what you meant to him. She knew what he meant to you. And God, even between the differences they had going on between them, Ellie felt the loss in her bones. They ached with sorrow.

She finally falls asleep in your arms, but you can’t shut your eyes. You will just see his limp body, contorted and broken. The blood trickling all over the floor, it splattered across the walls.

He was fucking gone.

You’d never feel those arms wrap around you again. You’d never get to see that smile again. You’d never feel him between your hips, appreciating every piece you were willing to give to him. You’d never smell his woodsy scent, especially after he was twiddling wood all day. You’d never hear him strum his guitar on the front porch again, replaying the same tune you heard a million times over.

All of your senses would live in agony, never able to recover from losing him.

You would spend eternity missing him. His memories were now just a book on the shelf that was forbidden to be open. You wouldn’t get to pick his brain anymore. The only thing left of him earth side is you and everyone else’s memories. He would hold a spot on the mantle, in all the pictures you took.

And of course, in the imaginary file cabinet in your head. You’d organize every possible moment you could remember spending with him. How he made you feel. How you hoped you made him feel. It would be labeled, The Only Reason I Decided To Stick Around.

#joel miller tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou fic #tlou drabble #the last of us drabble #joel miller drabble #joel miller angst #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #joel miller one shot #joel miller #angsty as fuck #gracieheartspedro

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blue-bujo · 4 months

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Bowled Over (Roy Kent x Reader): Chapter Eight

You work at a bowling alley and a young girl named Phoebe has a birthday party there. You catch her uncle's eye.

Roy Kent x female reader

Will try to update roughly every two weeks

Chapter Eight: Roy Kent, Baby Whisperer

(7.2k words)

Warnings: Roy Kent-level language (you know what you're in for), insecurity, mentions of sex, tooth-rotting fluff

Summary: Roy takes a big step and asks you to come to a team dinner at Ola’s, where you get to properly meet the greyhounds and their families.

Author's note: Buckle in for a long one! This is to tide you over, because I probably won't be posting a new chapter in January; we've got family birthdays three out of the four weekends, so I don't want to stress about getting something out in time. Happy New Year, and I'll see you with a new chapter in a month!

You had great fun driving Roy’s SUV for the next few weeks. It was large and expensive, so people tended to give it a wide berth. And since you didn’t have to walk to work, you were getting to sleep a bit later, which was doing wonders for you.

It was amazing that Roy let you use the Beast without any hesitation, that he trusted you that much. That he wanted to spend time with you, and keep you around, and know you deeper. Things were going very well between the two of you.

Lettie was completely invested. She wanted to know every single detail, and had done her homework on Roy once you’d revealed that he was a public figure. She’d questioned every single text and phone call that made you smile during a shift, demanding to know exactly how Roy was treating you right. You’d even caught her telling the other members of staff that you were dating “a football legend.”

Roy had gotten a kick out of that when you’d told him one date night. It was at your favorite restaurant, a little hole-in-the-wall Italian place where he was unlikely to be spotted by paparazzi. Rumors were starting to swirl that he had a “mystery girl,” which both thrilled and terrified you, but thankfully no pictures had been sneakily snapped. Yet. You were still able to enjoy your anonymity, laughing and twirling pasta with the man you’d been lucky enough to meet while you worked his niece’s birthday party.

“So let me understand this, she tried to tell Snack Bar James that he’d forever missed out on catching you because now your standards are too high for the likes of him?” Roy’s eyes were crinkled at the edges as he tried not to grin.

“Pretty much,” you laughed. “I think we were both relieved. Lettie’s been trying to set us up for the entire year he’s worked with us, but he’s obviously more interested in Ashley in the pro shop.”

“Still, that Lettie’s a fuckin’ savage,” said Roy, respect heavy in his gruff voice. Then he took a bite of his chicken parmesan and sighed happily, looking at you.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing. Just- this is nice. Us. I’ve been enjoying myself.”

“That’s good to know, considering we haven’t really done anything. What with your knee and everything.”

You both glanced down to the offending appendage in its articulating brace. Roy would hopefully get the okay from physio the following week to begin putting weight back onto it and using it more normally, but you were enjoying being the chauffer for now. It leant itself to quiet days in, calm conversations and movie nights snuggled on the couch, sometimes with Phoebe as well. It was hardly any different from your quiet existence before, except you weren’t lonely anymore.

“You’re kidding about doing nothing, right?” The man put down his fork and trained his gaze on you. It was one of the things about him that you loved best; he made sure that those around him felt seen. “This isn’t nothing, it’s fucking everything. I get to be a normal bloke with you, hearing the petty gossip of normal people. I haven’t had this in pretty much my entire adult life. I love this.”

He paused, his mouth open like he wanted to continue the thought. Like he might want to say that he loved you, but he didn’t say anything more. It disappointed you more than you expected; you realized that you maybe cared more deeply for him than you thought. Maybe you loved him.

A grunt jolted you out of your thoughts. Roy was looking at you tensely.

“I just fucked that up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

And it was you were confused by your own feelings, so it was okay that he was taking responsibility for acting on his. He reached for your hand and held it tight.

“I’m an idiot. I know. Can I make it up to you?”

Your attention piqued, you nodded. “Yes, you can. How are you making it up to me?”

You watched as he took a breath, sat up a little taller, and asked, “Come to a family dinner with me?”

“A family dinner?”

“Well, we call them family dinners. Sam started it. It’s really a team dinner.”

Up to now, Roy had kept his football life separate from his dating life. You were excited that he seemed ready for his circles to start converging.

“Are you really sure you want me to come?” you asked. “That’s a big step, Roy.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. The boys have a pool going on why my mood’s been so abnormal, and I’d love to prove them all wrong. They think it’s because I’m on painkillers or some shit.”

“Didn’t you tell them that you’re not taking anything stronger than Tylenol?”

“Of course I fucking did, but they didn’t believe me. What do you say? Want to help me prove them wrong?”

“I would love to help you prove them wrong, but only if I get a cut of the pool,” you giggled. “Considering I’m the cause of it, I deserve it.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Fine, you get a cut of the winnings if you can convince any of those idiots to share with you. Happy?”

“Yes, very.”

“Fuckin’ right.”

The two of you smiled at each other over your pastas. You were happy, even more so that he wanted you to start meeting his team. He’d been very protective of them, and of you, and you suspected of himself in keeping his worlds apart. You could understand it; it was always more comfortable keeping things in their separate placed. But you were pretty excited that he deemed you worthy of introducing into another part of his life.

“What are team dinners like?” you inquired. Then you took a large bite of your dinner so he’d have to say more than two words.

“They’re fine,” grumbled the man in response. “Once a month we all go to Ola’s, and Sam has us try some new Nigerian dish he’s thinking about putting on the menu. Richard brings wine, because he’s fucking French, and the lads destroy a week’s worth of training with how much they eat. It’s nothing fancy. People bring dates if they’ve got any.”

“But not Roy Kent,” you pointed out. “The day he brings a date will be one for the books.”

“Hmm.”

If it was possible for a man to look nervous while eating chicken parm, Roy was doing it as he thought about bringing a girl to a team function. You smiled reassuringly at him and tapped his foot under the table with yours.

“It’ll be great. I’ve already met them anyway, so now it will just be a reintroduction, which is much less awkward,” you promised. “I’ve been meaning to catch Jamie for a few weeks now.”

“Why?”

“To thank him for chauffeuring you around on the days I work! He must really like you for him to do that, and I need to thank him for being good to you.”

Roy could obviously tell that you were trying to push his buttons, but took the bait all the same. “The only thing he is to me is a prick. Please don’t encourage him. He’s been trying to corner me in the car park for the past two weeks to see who’s been dropping me off. I’m trying to protect you from him for as long as possible.”

His logic made no sense. “By inviting me to meet him and the rest of your idiots?”

“Beat ‘em to the punch,” he said. “We do it on my terms instead of theirs, so I control the conversation. It’s tactics, just like on the pitch.”

You threw one last jab. “I thought Nate was the tactics man?”

Those expressive eyebrows scrunched down. “Fuck you, babe.”

You finished your meals, ordered dessert, and ended your date night. After dropping Roy off at his house, you went home to your flat. You fell asleep thinking about the team dinner, three nights away, and how lucky you felt to be getting more serious with the man who insisted he didn’t care about it but obviously wanted you to go with him. The man who wanted you.

The day of the team dinner, you pulled up to Nelson Road early. You and Roy had decided that it would be easier for both of you to be the first to the restaurant and have the attention spread out, rather than arrive together later and be bombarded by the entire team at once. You’d thought you’d timed it so that nobody would see you idling in the parking lot, but after a moment, you realized there was someone in the Aston Martin parked next to you.

It was Jamie Tartt, and he was sitting in the passenger seat of his own car waiting for you to notice him. Once you did, he hopped out and motioned for you to roll down the window.

“And what are you doin’ in Coach’s car?”

“Driving,” you quipped.

“Driving Coach’s car?” the man probed. “When Coach just so happens to have someone driving him around while his knee is unusable? And when there are rumors that he’s got a girl?”

You did your best to keep your face neutral. “I know, it’s quite a coincidence, but stranger things have happened. Coach Kent and I just happen to have the same taste in cars.”

It wasn’t a lie, just not wholly the truth. Now that you had driven the Beast for a while, you loved it. Jamie eyed you good naturedly and didn’t say anything else, content to lean in the window. You could see why Roy found him annoying at times, but also why he would probably die for him. His manner was so casual that he was completely disarming.

“What are you doing here, Jamie?” you questioned. “No one else is here, so training can’t be done yet.”

“Me? Nothin’. Just forgot me headband.”

Your eyes darted to the elastic currently holding back his floppy hair. Strands were flying away; it had obviously been there for a while. You raised an eyebrow to let him know you weren’t fooled by his lie.

He shrugged. “All right, you caught meh. I’ve been trying to catch Coach’s driver for weeks, but haven’t managed it until today. I was hoping the rumors were true about our old man finding a girlfriend, and I’m really glad it’s you.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because it’s right, innit? He hasn’t looked at anybody the way he looked at you at the bowling alley. Not since Keeley, and that look was different.”

Keeley. The model, and previous girlfriend. You felt extremely insecure every time you thought about her with Roy, despite his insistence that you didn’t need to. “I don’t know about that. Keeley’s famous.”

With a scoff, Jamie challenged, “And do you think that matters to Granddad? He only does what he’s sure of. Anyways, he’ll be out soon, and I don’t want him to see me out here. I told him I were being sick so he wouldn’t ask any questions. Are you coming to family dinner tonight?”

Nodding, you replied, “Yes, but it’s a secret. You can’t tell the team. It’s going to be a surprise.”

“I won’t tell, swear down.” He started bouncing back and forth between both feet. “I better get back inside. I’ll see you tonight!”

“You sure will. Oh, and Jamie!” you called as he jogged away.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for driving Roy on the days I can’t. We both appreciate it, even if he’s too tough to say anything.”

Jamie grew two inches taller under your praise. He pointed at you and smiled. “Oh, he definitely needs to keep you around. See yah, Splits!”

The young man bounced back into the stadium, leaving you to wait for Roy. You didn’t see the prick in Jamie the way Roy had described him to you, but then, you weren’t in charge of him. You supposed somebody that chipper could be a bit of a handful. But you were pleased; the first interaction with somebody know you were the girlfriend had gone well, and the information hadn’t even been a surprise. It boded well for tonight.

Roy was upstairs; you could hear the steady thumping of his crutches as he got ready for the dinner. He’d finally mastered navigating the stairs, thank goodness, so you didn’t feel the need to run back and forth grabbing clothes and toiletries for him. This gave you time to do your makeup. Admittedly, you didn’t need long, as you were pretty minimal when it came to painting your face, but you were nervous, and kept messing it up.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t met the team before, and your conversation with Jamie had gone well earlier today, but tonight was your public debut as Roy Kent’s girlfriend. After tonight, there was no going back. There would probably even be press hiding somewhere, waiting to be the first to confirm the news that Roy was seeing somebody new.

“What’re you doing? You’re staring into space?”

Roy’s gruff voice startled you, and you almost stabbed yourself with your mascara wand. You hadn’t heard him come downstairs, but his reflection in the mirror was leaning on the doorframe, like he’d been watching you for a little bit, his face soft.

“You are so quiet when you want to be, it’s scary,” you scolded, turning to face him. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to be scary; it just happens.” He looked at you, a small smile curving his lips. “You look great.”

With a scoff, you told him “I look okay at best. I’m not done yet.”

Roy stepped closer and looked you up and down carefully. “No, you look done and you look incredible. Don’t change one thing. What the fuck has you so freaked out?”

“After tonight, there’s no hiding,” you said in a small voice. “If I make a bad first impression, or a photographer gets a picture of me mid-sneeze, or choking on my food or something, that’s it. I will forever be the idiot that you took pity on.”

“No, you’ll be the young and beautiful date of a washed-up old has-been.” Roy kissed the top of your head. “The team will go easy on you. Its me they’ll be fucking with.”

You looked up at him, hovering above your hair. “Do you promise?”

“I promise. Now finish up, so we can get going. I want to beat everyone there.”

“Okay. I’ll be out in a minute,” you said, turning back to the bathroom mirror. Roy’s reflection swung away on its crutches, and you quickly put on the rest of your mascara before pulling the green sweater over your head and doing your hair. When you walked into the living room a few minutes later, Roy was gazing up at you with the look that Phoebe called his heart eyes.

“Is that the same jumper you wore on our first date?” he asked.

“Yeah. I remember you liked it, but I don’t have to wear it if it’s not right.”

“It’s perfect,” said Roy fondly. “They’ll all love you.”

You both walked to the car, and Roy put on his cheesy pump-up playlist for you. It only got through a few songs before you arrived at Ola’s, but it had the desired effect, and you were less anxious about the impending ordeal.

Roy was looking around as you parked the Beast. “I don’t see any of their cards,” he grunted. “Let’s get inside while we’re still in the fucking clear.” He reached toward you and squeezed your hand. “Ready?”

Squeezing back, you braced yourself and hopped out. Sam Obisanya’s restaurant, Ola’s, was a cute little corner unit deeper than it was wide. Airy curtains obscured most of the dining room from outside view, but you could see inside enough to know that you and Roy were the first ones there, as planned. Two people were bustling in the back when you opened the door for Roy, and while one ducked into the kitchen, the other approached.

“Coach!” called Sam, smiling widely. “Welcome! I’m so glad you could make it, although we’re not quite ready for everyone yet.”

Roy was obscuring you from Sam’s view while you followed him in. “Wanted to make sure that the close parking spots would be open, so we came early.” Your boyfriend stepped to the side as he said “we,” and pulled you to him.

Only for a moment, Sam faltered, then his eyes lit up as he recognized you, and realized the rumor about his coach was true.

“You’re the lady from the bowling alley!”

“Guity,” you chuckled, extending a hand to properly introduce yourself, but before you could do that, Sam took it in both of his and shook it warmly.

“I am so very glad that you are here, and that you are with Roy! What is your name?”

Roy introduced you before you could respond, and the sheer amount of pride in his voice made your heart melt a bit. He was acting like he didn’t deserve to be on your arm, not the other way around. And he was smiling, unashamedly.

“I am so glad to officially meet you,” beamed Sam, “and so glad that Coach gets to be with someone so lovely. I do hope that you enjoy yourself tonight.”

“I’m sure I will. Thank you, Sam. If the food is as good as the restaurant looks, I’m in for a treat.”

“Do you want to sit down, babe?” Roy gestured to a table in the corner, out of view of the door.

After a last smile at Sam, you joined Roy. He practically threw himself into a chair, and then carefully stretched his knee out onto one of the extra seats.

“That didn’t go so badly, as far as introductions go,” you told him.

The man grunted. “Sam is the golden child of the team. I wasn’t worried about him. It’s the other ones that’ll be idiots about it.”

The other ones showed up shortly thereafter. From your corner, you and Roy watched the team slowly trickle in. Coach Shelley and his fiancée were the earliest, and both lit up when their gazes settled on you. Jade planted herself next to you and told you how happy she was that there would be another girl there to talk to when Roy and Nate inevitably started talking tactics. You liked Jade; she could hold her own.

Some of the second team came in next. They all greeted you warmly, and heaped verbal abuse on Roy for taking so long to settle down. One of them, Paul, was the oldest on the team since Roy’s retirement, and promised you a few stories of their time playing together before his daughter pulled him away.

The defenders and midfielders arrived together, minus Jan Maas, who was apparently late to everything. Isaac McAdoo shook your hand seriously.

“He’s good to you, yeah?” he asked.

“Of course I’m fucking good to her!” Roy spluttered. “You’ve known me for years!”

“It’s always the ones you think you know,” Isaac said darkly. He looked you in the eye, still holding your hand. “If he ever stops being good to you, you call me and I’ll fuck him up for you. You’re at a family dinner, so you’re one of us now.”

“I’ll let you know if that ever happens,” you promised, trying your hardest not to laugh at how Roy was gripping one of his crutches like he was going to hit Isaac with it. The captain wisely moved out of reach before that could happen.

Most of the team didn’t seem all that surprised to see you. You saw a few bank notes changing hands throughout the course of the night, but everyone was more or less calm about you being there. Roy even halfway relaxed, until Jamie came in with Jan Maas in tow.

“The dinner can start now, ‘cos the party’s arrived!” he called as he came in, arms wide. “Splits! What are you doing here?”

Jamie was acting like your parking lot conversation had never happened. He plopped down next to Roy and stared at him cheekily. “Coach, I’m surprised at yah. Keeping a lovely lady all to yourself? Not cool.”

“And why should I have to share every fucking detail of my life with a prick like you? You’d only make a huge deal out of it and lord it over the whole team that you knew something about me that no one else did, and then no one would leave me the fuck alone.”

“Roy,” you interrupted, sensing that the rant would have been a long one, “Jamie already knows. He saw me driving your car when I came to pick you up.”

Eyes narrowing, Roy could only growl. You and Jamie grinned at each other.

“I think it’s great, man. You needed some happiness in your life, and she seems to be giving it to you. We all knew something was going right for you, and it definitely wasn’t your knee.”

Your boyfriend’s nostrils flared once, but then he looked at you and softened, just the slightest bit.

“All right, fair enough,” he admitted. “Life isn’t terrible right now, even with my shit knee.”

“She must be special, to make you that happy. You aren’t having any sex right now with your knee like that,” deadpanned Jan Maas.

There were shouts. Half the team jumped out of their chairs anticipating a fight. You reached out to grab Roy’s shoulder, as did Jamie, you noticed. Bad knee or not, you wouldn’t put it past Roy to lunge at the taller man after a comment like that. He had already grabbed one of his crutches and was brandishing it like a club.

Coach Shelley was talking the team, and the dutchman, down. “That was uncalled-for, even for you, Jan. There are ladies present.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Coach. I can handle it,” Colin Hughes joked. It made everyone else relax, but Roy was still furious.

“I’ll kill him. I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill him.” His growl certainly sounded murderous. “Embarrassing you like that.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” you liked. “You told me he could be rude.”

Jamie shook his head disapprovingly. “Rude and Dutch. That was mental. He’s lucky our old man here is laid up.”

“I could still kick his ass, just let go of me!”

“How about some dinner?” Sam shouted over the din in his dining room. “Simi and I have some new dishes for you all to try.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for the Beards?” someone from second team asked.

“Who knows when they’ll show up?” someone else called sarcastically. “Queenie probably pitched another fir, and they’re never on time anyway.”

You looked to Roy. “Queenie?”

A growl; Roy seemed incapable of speech as he glared at Jan Maas. Jamie answered your question.

“Coach Beard’s daughter. They named her after the chess piece. Poor babeh hasn’t forgiven them for it. She’s always screaming.”

A few of the men loudly agreed that dinner should be served before Coach Beard and his family arrived so everyone else would be able to eat in peace. You weren’t sure that any team function could be considered “peaceful,” but agreed that dinner shouldn’t wait. Sam and his chef Simi – you couldn’t figure out whether they were dating or not – brought out countless platters of delicious food, and you all dug in. With every bite, you found yourself falling in love with Nigerian cuisine. Even Roy’s bad mood couldn’t stand up to it, and soon he was listening intently to the conversations around him, his hand on your knee under the table.

You quickly learned that not many people kept to one seat. Higgins and O’Brien found their way to your table to learn more about bowling from you, and you spent an enjoyable few minutes talking strategies, moreso for O’Brien’s benefit than Higgins’. The reserve keeper had enjoyed the team bowling night so much that he was considering joining a league. You would have been happy gushing about your sport all night, since everybody at work had already heard everything you had to say, and O’Brien was willing to listen. Higgins, too; you learned that he was registered for a tournament that you were also competing in at your alley, and he wanted to know which oil patterns were going to be laid. But your conversation was cut short when the door to the restaurant opened, and a screaming toddler was dragged in by her parents.

You recognized Coach Beard; he was often shown next to Roy during match broadcasts. The woman with him must be his wife Jane, who Roy had told you was slightly insane, but in a different way than Beard was. The two-year-old looked more like Jane, and was crying as only an unhappy toddler could. Half of the team looked sympathetically at Beard, Roy included, and the other half looked annoyed. Queenie didn’t seem to be popular.

She didn’t stop crying and whining. For twenty minutes, the Beards, and eventually everybody else, tried to cheer her up while they ate, but it was useless. People started scooping her up and passing her around, just trying to keep her occupied long enough for her to forget she was upset.

It didn’t work.

People were starting to get antsy, looking at the exit as if contemplating how quickly they could reach it. Wives and girlfriends were still trying to soothe Queenie, while Beard and Jane scarfed down a meal. Jade reached out for a turn, and put her purse in front of the girl to distract her. You would be the next victim if Jade couldn’t calm her down.

Unfortunately, digging through a purse wasn’t what Queenie wanted. She looked like she was gearing up for another fit. The adults at your table exchanged glances.

“Does anybody have a better idea?” challenged Jade.

You could only shrug. The only children you had in your life were the kids in the youth league, and they were older. Toddlers didn’t make any sense to you. Nate also seemed to be at a loss. After waiting a moment, Roy let out a sigh and rolled his eyes.

“All right, give her here,” he grumbled, holding out his hands. “Don’t any of you know any kids? Fucking amateurs, all of you.”

Once he had Queenie, Roy stood her up in his lap, holding her up by her hands. They looked at each other seriously, as if acknowledging each other’s existence. Roy did the same thing with you, you realized; every time he spent time with you, he ignored his surroundings to focus on you. Then Roy lowered her hands, and rather than stand on him, the toddler chose to snuggle up on him, her front pressed against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her and tucked his chin into her curls, which she’d wedged under his head.

Ola’s was silent. Mouths hung open in shock, eyes stared at the manager. He glared at everybody.

“What are you all staring at?”

“She stopped,” Beard said, awestruck. “She hasn’t stopped in days.”

“You’re the fuckin’ baby whisperer,” chuckled Jamie.

“You’re forgetting about Phoebe. She was small once. I learned with her.”

Roy was speaking to the room, but he was looking at Queenie burrowed into his chest. There was something so gentle in the way that he was with her; you hadn’t even seen it with Phoebe, maybe because she was older. It was like he was marveling at her, or in her willingness to trust him. Seeing this gruff man melt made you fall a little deeper for him.

The team was stunned at this peaceful side of their coach. Across the dining room, Beard and Jame were having a hushed conversation. Roy was choosing to ignore all of them; he was focusing on Queenie, who was starting to look like she was going to fall asleep as he rubber her back.

“Incredible,” Nate murmured. “I didn’t know you had this in you, Roy.”

“No reason to let it out at Nelson Road,” he grunted. “Now shut up. She’s not going to stay quiet if you idiots wake her up.”

Rather than say anything else, the assistant coach went to another table with Jade. Jamie followed suit, leaving you with Roy and Queenie.

“She really trusts you, Roy,” you observed quietly.

“Hmm.”

“Any reason why? Have you babysat her before?”

“No. I think she can tell that I’m just as scared of the world as she is, and she takes some comfort in that.”

“Roy Kent is scared? What does Roy Kent have to be scared of?”

Your boyfriend finally tore his eyes from Queenie to look at you.

“Roy Kent the footballer wasn’t scared of anything. But Just Roy… He’s effing terrified of life after football, and how great it’s turning out to be, and how much could be lost if he effs it up.”

It was startlingly honest. You’d never heard Roy that open before, even when it was just the two of you. Kids were apparently his weakness, which kind of made sense. He was fiercely protective and took care of everybody he cared about; children needed caring for more than adults did, so he probably felt even more himself while he had someone small to protect. Plus, he apparently related to how he thought kids viewed the world, which probably contributed even more to his being comfortable enough to share.

Your thoughts were moving too fast and with too much emotion for you to articulate anything, so you reached out to gently play with Queenie’s hair. Roy, his chin still in those curls, snuck a quick kiss onto your hand and smiled contentedly at you. It would have been a tender moment, had Jane and Coach Beard not chosen it as their moment to approach. Some of the usual grumpiness settled back onto your boyfriend’s face once he noticed them.

“Roy,” Jane began in what could only be described as a wheedling tone.

“What do you want?”

“We were hoping we could ask you to watch Queenie for a bit. You’re so good with her, and she’s been so difficult the past few weeks…”

Beard interrupted. “We’ve got to do some stuff around the apartment, and it will be a whole lot easier without a 25-month-old screaming the entire time.”

“It will only be about an hour,” continued Jane. “We’ll be quick.”

They looked pleadingly at Roy, who rolled his eyes. He didn’t have to think for long.

“Fine, but only because she’s effing asleep, and because I’m still injured, which are two very good reasons for me not to move.”

“Thanks, Roy,” said Beard. “We’ll be quick.”

“Effin’ hope so. If you’re not back in an hour, like you said, I won’t be doing the training reports for the rest of the month, you will. That’s my condition.”

“Deal.” Coach Beard took his wife’s hand. “We appreciate this, Roy.”

There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “You’re wasting valuable time. Now scram.”

You heard something that could almost be a laugh come from Roy as he watched the could run off.

“What are you laughing about?”

“I just got out of a month’s worth of reports,” he chuckled smugly. “It’s a ten minute trip to their flat, if they run the whole way, and they won’t. They can’t keep their hands off each other.”

“So you just agreed to babysit a difficult toddler for who knows how long, just to get out of doing some paperwork, because you know your coworker would be distracted by his wife?”

“Pretty effing smart, right?”

Roy was quite pleased with himself. He even kept conversation up for a few minutes more than usual before he let it die, and by then, Sam and Simi were bringing out the next course. Yor table was given a wide berth – nobody wanted to risk waking Queenie – but you and Roy were fin with that, and enjoyed having a break from everyone’s attention.

Until Dani Rojas walked over.

“Hola, Roy! Have you seen Coach Beard?”

At this point, it had been well over an hour since he and Jane had left.

“No, they went home to get some things done without Queenie in the way.”

“Oh. So you are babysitting, yes?”

With a suspicious look at you, Roy answered, “Yeah. Why are you fu- effing asking?”

“No reason, really. Mostly, I wanted to tell you how good it is to see you and Señora Splits here together. You look like a real familia, sitting here with the little Queen.”

You felt some color rise to your cheeks, and saw how Roy shifted his weight uncomfortably. First Jan Maas bringing up the sex thing, and now Dani Rojas bringing up a family, kids! This team definitely wasn’t shy.

“Oh! I apologize, you just started dating. These topics are probably uncomfortable, yes?” Dani glanced between you and Roy apologetically, reacting to your reactions. “I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.”

“Dani,” growled your boyfriend as he put his hands over Queenie’s little ears, “fuck off. Now, please.”

The striker retreated back to his original seat, which left you and Roy alone again. You subconsciously started twisting a ring you always wore, your mind racing as you contemplated everything. Did you want kids? You’d never really had the urge, unlike the girls you’d grown up around, who’d had baby names picked out by the age of twelve. Nothing specifically bothered you about kids, but you’d never been in a hurry to have any. But seeing Roy in front of you, murmuring softly to Queenie…

Maybe, with the right person, domestic bliss wasn’t unattainable.

“What’re you thinking about? You’re doing your ring twisting thing.”

You weren’t ready to have this conversation yet. Not here, where a footballer could interrupt at any second. You chose to ask your own question instead.

“What were you saying to Queenie just now?”

“I was saying sorry for swearing, just in case she heard me tell Dani to eff off.” The corners of his mouth were threatening to turn upwards. “I’ve been trying so hard all night not to corrupt this baby the way I’ve corrupted Phoebe, but at some point, you have to say it.”

“I was wondering why you were censoring yourself,” you smiled. “It’s been strange.”

“Yeah. Not how I expected my night to go, but it’s been all right. My knee’s killing me from having this one in my lap all night, and I need to use the toilet, but other than that.”

“Where are the Beards? It’s been closer to two hours. You should try to get two month’s worth of reports out of it.”

The twinkle returned to Roy’s eyes as he realized the genius of your suggestion. Then he shifted Queenie higher, probably to relieve some pressure from his knee.

“Knowing those two, they’re probably all over each other. Hopefully not making another of these little gremlins, because they don’t give enough attention to the one they already have.”

“Do you think it’s an attention issue?” you asked. “She’s had attention all night.”

Before he answered you, Roy let out an aggravated sigh. “No, she’s been handled all night. None of that lot actually interacted with her, they just passed her around trying to distract her. Kids are people, too, you know. They want to feel included the same way adults do. Honestly, babe, you coach youth bowling, how do you not know this?”

“I guess I’m just good at seeing them in the context of bowling, where it’s my job to watch after them,” you mused. “But I may not be a natural like you.”

You expected the man to respond with something sarcastic, but he looked thoughtfully at Queenie once more. As did you. As much as you didn’t want to have the conversation here in the open, seeing him so comfortable with her felt like it might be a small glimpse at a future. The two of you hadn’t been together long – only six weeks – but it was serious, and future wasn’t out of the question for you.

Gradually, you felt Roy’s gaze on you. All harshness was dissolved from his face.

“I know you don’t want to talk about this in public, and I’m with you on that, but I want you to know… I don’t hate this. I think I’ve known since Phoebe was born, but I hadn’t really thought about it until my career went up in flames and I had to effing retire. I think I want a family to take care of. Kids. Or just one, I don’t know. But I need you to know that before we fu- effing go any further. We can talk about it later, when you’re ready. If you’re ready. You don’t have to be, and if it was too early to say, I’m really sorry. I can be –“

“Roy, stop.” His voice was getting high and strained, and he had yet to take a breath; you had to make him stop to breathe. “I think it may be something I want, too. It’s okay.”

And it was, you realized. The man in front of you, holding the toddler that wasn’t yours, could be something very serious. He’d taken a chance on you, somebody decidedly outside his world, and brought you in. He’d given you his trust and his weakness, and become a steward of yours. He was the baby whisperer. He could be the endgame.

It was all so simple. He could be it. And he seemed to think that you might be it, too.

“Oi, take Queenie for a second.” Always abrupt, Roy seemed to be switching topics. “I can’t stand it anymore; I have to get up before I piss myself, and before my good knee locks up.”

You held your hands out, and Roy passed you a drowsy toddler. You made sure to acknowledge her before she settled, as he had, and she didn’t fuss as she nestled into you, using one of your boobs as a pillow. Roy was already stumping away towards the back of the restaurant, and the team was busy passing around a dessert, so you were alone with your thoughts. It may have just been biology, or attraction, or the fact that sex had been reference more than once tonight, but cradling a sleepy little kid that had been handed off to you by the man you were currently seeing was doing something to your insides. A yearning was suddenly there. You could imagine a tiny, foul-mouthed menace running amuck.

Roy was it.

Roy was so distracted that he hadn’t noticed he was washing his hands with sanitizer until it found a paper cut. He swore and corrected his mistake, then looked his reflection dead in the eye in the mirror.

The man hadn’t seen himself wear this expression before. In the press, he’d always looked angry, all hard angles and glares. Having Queenie all night had melted it all away, and Just Roy, staring back at him looked… Fond? He wasn’t sure. It was something soft.

He reached for a paper towel to dry his hands, his mind spinning. Taking care of Queenie all night had ignited something warm in his chest, which felt suspiciously like his heart. But it wasn’t really about Queenie, was it?

No, it wasn’t. It was about the woman who’d been beside him, who hadn’t flinched through this whole night. And its many twists, turns, and blunt footballers. Splits had exuded grace all night, and he hadn’t consciously noticed until this moment how peaceful his normally-raging thoughts were whenever he was with her.

Just Roy was wearing heart eyes when he looked back in the mirror.

“Fuck. She’s the one.”

As he hobbled out of the toilets and back to the table, Roy knew with more certainty than he’d ever had in his life. He wanted to serve her, to protect her, to have her, to love her. For her to hold his kids as gently and tenderly as she was holding Queenie right now, who hadn’t even noticed the return of her parents.

Fuck being Roy Kent. He wanted to be Just Roy with her. Splits was it.

She smiled up at him when he got closer.

“Better?”

Why was she asking if he was better? Oh, right, his quick retreat to the toilets, which had been a bit of a lie because he’d needed to get his emotions in check more than he’d actually needed to go.

“Yeah, much better, thanks. How was Queenie?”

“An angel,” Splits answered. “You’re onto something with this whole acknowledgement thing. I was just telling the Beards.”

Jane was wearing an irritated expression, probably mad that other people were telling her how to manage her own child. Beard just looked thankful that said child wasn’t currently screaming. They both looked red and puffy around the mouth. Roy was pretty sure that they’d been making another fucking gremlin, and to his surprise, was insanely jealous.

Fuck, he was falling hard. It scared him how intensely sure he was that Splits was the one.

He had to get out. It was too much, being around his team, his family.

“Are you ready to go?” he questioned, more harshly than he’d meant to.

She shrugged. “Yeah, we can go. Is your knee bothering you?”

“Something like that. Beard, you were gone for two hours, not one, so I’m expecting two months of training reports.”

Coach Beard was nothing if not fair. As he took his daughter from Splits, he nodded stoically. “Fine. You held up your end.”

“Well said.”

Roy pulled out his girlfriend’s chair and turned for the exit. He’d wanted to sneak out, but the whole team saw them leaving and called out goodbyes. Sam, of course, thanked them for coming. Jamie, less predictably, shouted, “Good night, Kents!”

In his peripheral, the manager could see Splits was stifling a smile and waiting for his reaction. Roy didn’t correct Jamie, only flipped him off without turning around. He ushered his girl out of Ola’s to the Beast, then turned on one of his playlists. He texted his father as she drove them home.

Me: Need to talk. Call tomorrow?

Dad: About fucking time. Your mother’s upset you haven’t told us.

Me: ???

Dad: typing…

After a moment, his father sent a link to a post on The Sun’s social media. It was a photo, sniped through the window of the restaurant, of him in profile holding Queenie and kissing Splits’ hand as she played with the little girl’s hair. They’d been caught, but he fought down the anger rising in his throat. He typed out one last message.

Me: It’s new, but she’s fucking amazing. Do you still have Nan’s stuff?

With that, he closed his texts and pocketed his phone. He reached over for Splits’ hand, resting on the center console while she waited for the light to change, and took it.

It was missing a vital piece of jewelry. He needed to fix that.

Tag list: @preciousbabypeter @harry-bowie-mercury @amieinghigh @onceuponaoneshot @chewymoustachio @my-neurodivergent-world

#roy kent bowled over #roy kent #roy kent x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #mutual pining #slowish burn #reader is a bowler #because I was a bowler #hence the terrible pun title #my writing #no editing we die like men

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miscfandomgifimagines · 1 year

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Okay so I am currently sick af and this is purely comfort writing for myself. I kinda wrote it for myself but in a way that you can insert yourself or your oc, whatever you wish. Also posting this on my fandom blog vs my main because my roommate has called me out for my blue person hyper fixation lmao. Human reader x Lyle Wainfleet, Lyle being a caretaker.

* Lyle isn’t too fond of scientists. They tend to be boring and super serious and he can hardly understand most of them. But there were 2 scientists in particular that were assigned to the recon squad that he actually enjoyed. Two young kids in their mid twenties from Earth who got the chance of a lifetime to get shipped out to space to work with avatars.

* Your partner/ coworker was low key a genius at understanding Na’vi biology on a totally different level than everyone else. When offered the job he demanded that he be able to take his lifelong best friend with to act as his second hand man and that’s how you got in the picture. You were smart, but everyone could tell you weren’t really a scientist. You had loads of skills from welding, to navigating the stars, first aid training, and being an a pretty big nerd on Pandora flora and fauna. So you had your uses to the team.

* From day one you were labeled as sarcastic and a smart ass which didn’t bother you too much. In fact you were kind of happy to inflict yourself on others, especially the recoms. You and Lyle butted heads from the first minute you met with insults and burns flying both ways.

* He’ll never forget the time he asked you a question and you tried to make him figure it out himself. It wasn’t that he was stupid, but he wasn’t exactly book smart either. Eventually when he got his answer he was quite proud of himself. You on the other hand gave him a snort and shot another comment his way.

* “I’m really surprised! I didn’t think you’d actually get it. I just wanted to see how many brain cells you were capable of using at once.” *Ouch*

* Once you got to know each other a bit better the comments and roasting turned humorous and mildly affectionate. Lyle and you would take turns coming up with burns for each other and eventually the recom team as well.

* “When he wears his sunglasses he looks like a little league coach.” Lyle snorts and gives a little nod.

* “Wainfleet you are so god damn bald I can see my reflection off the back of your head.” You snickered. “Oh really? I didn’t think you could see that high Short stack.” Lyle shot back.

* Your laid back attitude and nonchalantness about wrangling an entire team of marines was kind of impressive. Lyle remembers the first time you got on Colonel’s temper and you were so offended when Quaritch hissed at you that you sprayed him with the water bottle you were holding while gardening.

* “Colonel, you are a grown ass man and I know you have better manners than that.” Quaritch started to growl and was about ready to fire back some insults when you held up the bottle again towards his face. You raised a defying eyebrow at him and said in the most stern voice you could possible manage, “Don’t make me get the hose.”

* Lyle couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore and the pair of you turned to look at him. Colonel scowled and you had such a mischievous sparkle in your eyes. “Short stack you got some balls.” Was all Lyle managed to say before Quaritch was angrily stalking towards him.

* While there weren’t a lot of humans that the recoms interacted with on a weekly or even monthly basis, the scientists still had to get supplies from the main bases. Lyle would accompany you to the commissary shop and watch in curiosity to see what you would pick. Mainly shower supplies, some new clothes to replace your tattered ones, some impulse snacks that get shipped up to generate cash for the base. Okay, mostly snacks like sour gummy worms and chips.

* You even snuck away for a brief minute and came back with some other goods, which upon smelling turned out to be edibles. He just shook his head and laughed while trying not to draw attention. You smiled and winked at him, “I gotta keep myself sane somehow!”

* After about a week and a half of returning from base you started to complain about not feeling good. You were restless at night and didn’t get much sleep so you were extra crabby. For the most part you were alright but when Quaritch pushed you out of bed ridiculously early to make breakfast for everyone you let him have it. There was yelling and a fair bit of cursing about how men are so helpless they can’t even cook for themselves for one freaking morning. You looked everyone straight in the eye and in a hoarse voice you told everyone you were going back to bed.

* The colonel was miffed to say the least, Lyle had never seen him so angry at you before and he grabbed the Colonels arm and said “I’ll handle this.”

* Due to part of the mission objective was to “become Na’vi” the RDA custom built a shack and transported it out to the middle of the forest, a few miles away from main base. The shack everyone lived in was one level for the most part with a sectioned off sleeping quarters for the crew. There was also high ceilings to accommodate the recoms height. There was also a kitchen and what you could call a living area of sorts. A few chairs here and there but that was about it.

* For the two humans, there was a second floor added- almost like a horseshoe shaped loft. There were two bedrooms on opposite sides that had curtains for privacy. There was also a middle living/ work area that was were you and your colleague had set up your equipment and offices. There was a open section leading into the loft that Avatars were able to stand up in, which came about chest level for them. This was where many of the recoms physicals and vitals took place since the humans could reach the avatar faces without the recoms having to crouch down.

* You had your curtains drawn shut and he almost hesitated. Lyle knocked his knuckles into the floor and called out to you. “What’s up Short stack?” You didn’t respond but he could hear you rustling in your bed. His ears flicked at the nose and he waited for your response.

* “I don’t feel good, I think I’m getting sick. I have had a headache for the past 2 days and nothing has helped. I also have a sore throat. All I want to do is sleep.” Lyle felt sympathy for you and reached out one long arm to pull the curtain back. You were sitting up, propped against your pillows with the blanket wrapped around you. Lyle could see the redness in your eyes and assumed you had cried a little bit either out of frustration or pain.

* “Is there anything I can do?” Lyle offered and you took a deep breath in. “Well I’d love to get some more sleep honestly. But I think picking up some cold medicine from base would be a good idea.” You huffed angrily, “I can’t believe I go to another freaking planet, I’m hardly around other humans, and I *still* got sick! This sucks.”

* Lyle nods understandingly. “I’ll get you your medicine, so you can go back to sleep. Just try not to piss the Colonel off anymore okay? And make sure you drink some water too.” You nodded but rolled your eyes a bit. “Okay dad.”

* When Lyle came back to the group in the kitchen he cleared his throat and addressed Quaritch. “Sir she’s sick. I think it would be a good idea to let her rest and pick up some medication before it gets any worse. So it doesn’t spread to the other human.” Quaritch huffs but doesn’t say anything other than “Alright.”

* Lyle goes to the commissary like the two of you usually did. The person behind the counter asks what he can do for him. “I need cold medicine.” The man behind the counter laughs. “Good luck finding that around here. I haven’t seen a new shipment of that in a while. Come back in a week and we may have some. In the meantime here is some cough drops and electrolyte replenishers.”

* Lyle’s tail flicked in disappointment. He knew that timing was important and in order to make this better you needed treatment sooner rather than later. So he looked down at the man with sharp eyes and said in his best threatening voice “I’ll be back next week. You better save 2 bottles of whatever you get for me or I will not be happy.” The man’s heart rate spiked and he nodded frantically.

* Lyle came back home with the meager supplies he could get and called to you from the kitchen. You came down wrapped in a big sweater and pulled his tail gently as you walked past. “Did you get some?” He shook his head and sighed. “They’re all out, maybe next week. I promise I’ll go as soon as the shipment comes in. In the meantime drink one of these.” He places a bottle down in front of you, which looks ridiculously small compared to his hand. You drink most of it down and place the cold bottle to your forehead in hopes of persuading your headache to go away.

* You look up at him and see a small frown forming on the corners of his lips. “I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault, you did what you could. I appreciate it dude.”

* Over the next few days your symptoms end up becoming worse. Now with the sore throat you are congested, coughing, and running a fever. Due to safety concerns your friend is temporarily set up in the recom quarters to prevent contamination. So while you were suffering from a cold you were also isolated too.

* What made it a little better was that your colleague was certain your sickness couldn’t be passed to the recoms so you could still hang out with Lyle. Lyle was hanging out by the railing each day, doing what he could to cheer you up. He brought you some cool rocks he found outside, told you a few funny stories about the shenanigans he got up to in the marines, and of course brought you snacks and water.

* One morning your fever broke 102 and Lyle was seriously freaking out. Unfortunately all he could do was give you acetaminophen and some cold rags to hopefully lower your temp. At this point even the Colonel was worried. They both looked at you on your bed and then at each other. “How many more days until the medicine gets here?” Quaritch asks, worry dancing in his voice. “Day and a half.” The Colonel puts his hand on Lyle’s shoulder and looks at him in the eye.

* “We just got word from base that Jake Sully has been sighted outside of the mountains. I’m getting the team together to go find him. I feel bad about leaving her in this state, but I’m going to put my trust in you that you can take care of her by yourself. We are leaving in an hour.” Lyle’s heart sinks a bit. He wants so badly to get revenge on Sully too but right now his biggest worry is you. Lyle nods and Colonel starts packing up supplies.

* The team leaves and it causes enough noise to wake you up. You head down the stairs slowly, your head bobbing up and down on each step. “Hey Short stack, you hungry?” You look up at Lyle, his hand comes down to rest on your forehead. You put your small hand on top of his and nod your head gently.

* Lyle gets to work heating up some soup and makes you each a sandwich. You eat in silence and when you finish he puts another drink in front of you. Without saying anything you open the bottle and take a few chugs.

* “So,” Lyle’s tail flicks to one side and then another, “What do you want to do now that everyone is gone?” A small smile on his lips, hoping it’ll spread to yours. You put the bottle down and think for a minute. “We could watch some movies or something.” “Okay just no chick flicks.”

* Lyle gets the two of you set up in the den with blankets and pillows and tries to make a comfy spot for you to lay down. You grab your tablet and settle into the pile, leaning against his side for support. You choose something to watch from a list, something animated. He watches it with you somewhat, getting engrossed in the plot. He feels you get heavier against his side and glances down at your now sleeping body. He pick you up gently and sets you in the curve of his arm in a more comfortable position for your back.

* He’s surprised at just how warm your fever is making you. His skin feels like ice compared to yours. He places one hand on your forehead again and you mumble in your sleep a bit. He turns on his side and peers at your sleeping figure.

* Lyle’s ears perk up when he hears your friend come in. “Hey so good news! The medicine is in early, I’m on my way to go get it now. You hold down the fort while I’m gone.” Lyle nods and turns his attention back to the sleeping girl in his arms. For the past few days you had been a shell of who you usually are. No quippy comebacks, no sarcastic interruptions, not even a joke for the past week. He was worried about you. After everything he had been through in his human and avatar life he had not had a relationship like this with anyone else.

* He loved you- platonically of course. He didn’t realize how much he missed the roasting and cursing and well, the normal you. He saw you as his closest friend and he hadn’t had one in so long. Without thinking the words start to fall out of his mouth.

* “Come on Short stack, hurry up and get better so you can kick my ass again.” He lets out a small laugh, lowering his lips to the top of your head. He places a small kiss to your temple. You curl into his body as he pulls away. “I miss you. Please.” He whispers. He moves a pillow under his head and relaxed his body. With the background noise of your wheezy breathing and the show you picked Lyle eventually fell asleep himself.

* He woke up when your friend came back with the medicine and he gently woke you up. Your eyes fluttered open and you reached out for his face, still groggy. He scoops you up in his arms and sits you on his lap so you can drink the medicine. You shudder as it hits your tongue, the nasty taste shaking the sleep from you. You finish it all and within a few hours your fever is gone and so is most of your cough.

* You were still in the pillow nest Lyle had made for the two of you and you turn towards him with a smile. “I think I was hallucinating or dreaming or something.” “Oh yeah?” Lyle smiles, happy you’re doing better. “Yeah I could have sworn you kissed me.” You let out a laugh and cover your mouth as you begin to cough.

* “Yeah Short stack, you were definitely dreaming.” His ears flutter for a brief second after being called out. He was so sure you were asleep when he did it. Whatever, at least you were getting better.

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aylacavebear · 20 days

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The Traveler - Chapter 8 - Earth, 2013 pt 2

You're from a specific dimension, Solaris Eclipse. It was a dimension of magic. When your kind, the Eldrathiren, turned fifteen, your unique power would awaken within you. Most times, it was something small, levitation, teleportation, creation, elemental manipulation, and things like that. Once in a while, a fifteen-year-old would just disappear, and those were called Travelers. None of them had ever returned. Your parents had told you stories about them, and you hoped that wouldn't happen to you.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 6024

Pairing Eventually Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You & Sam Winchester x OC Reader/You

Warnings: Angst, fluff, some alcohol use. A/N: Don't think there's anything else in this one. It's fairly relaxed.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 8 - Earth, 2013 pt. 2

The Borhter’s POV

Dean dragged his hand over his face once he closed your door, then headed to the library where Sam was sitting, having another beer, “It’s not fair,” he grumbled.

“She needs this time to recuperate, Dean. It's not fair to any of us. We don’t even know where Y/N from our time is right now. What dimension she ended up in,” Sam told him, then sighed.

Dean poured himself another glass of whiskey before he sat across from his brother, “This is gonna be a lot harder than I thought it would be. I have to keep reminding myself she’s only sixteen and doesn’t know how we all are together.”

Sam glanced toward the hallway where the rooms were, “She doesn’t look sixteen. That last world was hard on her.” He sipped his beer as the silence spread between them for a bit. “Let's just try to help her remember what laughter is.”

“Not gonna be as easy not being able to touch her,” Dean chuckled, smirking with the thoughts dancing through his mind.

“Hey, I’m trying not to think about that, and you’re not helping,” Sam tried to sound stern but couldn’t keep from chuckling.

“It’s also not gonna be easy sleeping,” Dean somewhat groaned.

“We’ll just have to think of it like when she has her alone nights,” Sam said, glancing over at his brother.

“I have a hard time sleeping those nights. Don’t tell her when she comes back, though. She’ll feel guilty and end up wanting to comfort me instead of taking the alone time she needs,” he told his brother seriously.

“I won’t tell her. I promise. I’m gonna go take care of her clean stuff. Don’t overdo it on the whiskey. You know she’ll be able to smell it on you in the morning,” Sam warned his brother before he headed to the laundry room.

Dean pulled out his wallet, then the picture of you he’d taken when you were seventeen and had come back for the first time, smiling as he got lost in the memory. He let his thumb gently glide across your cheek in the picture. You were in the middle of laughing at a joke he’d told you at Bobby’s. It was the day he realized he was in love with you.

“Dude, how long have you been staring at her picture?” Sam asked, setting your things down on the library table.

Dean quickly slipped the picture back into his wallet, leaning back in his chair, “Not that long. Just pulled it out.”

“Sure ya did,” Sam teased him, knowing he’d probably been staring at it the entire time he’d been gone.

“Bitch,” Dean retorted.

“Jerk,” Sam chuckled, “I’m heading to bed. Don’t beat yourself up. She’ll be back. She always comes back to us.”

“I know,” Dean mumbled, sipping his whiskey.

Sam headed to his room, knowing there was nothing he could do or say that could ease the pain his brother was going through. This wasn’t the first time they’d gone through the heartache of missing you due to your shifting. Since Sam had turned eighteen, the two of them had been trying to figure out a way to help you stay in one dimension. Up until this point, they hadn’t been able to find anything. Sam had been hoping the bunker would hold some secret spell buried somewhere in all the lore it held.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

With this place having no windows and you not knowing how to read a clock, you had no idea what time it was when you woke up. You stretched, then just laid there for a bit, enjoying the softness of the mattress and pillow. Due to the last world you had been in, you weren’t entirely sure how many hours of sleep you would get at a time, as there was no way to tell time in that place.

You pushed the blankets off, got out of bed, and headed toward the library. Neither of the brothers were there, so you headed to the kitchen. They weren’t there either. Then you checked the garage, but the car was still there, so they hadn’t left.

Where are they?

The only way you were going to be able to tell what time it was was if you went outside and you knew it. That, or attempt to find the brothers’ separate rooms and see if they were still sleeping. Sighing, you made your way up the stairs and then to the door that led outside. Opening the door, you couldn’t see any light, and glancing toward the sky, you could still see the stars twinkling in the darkness.

After closing the door, you headed back to your room, grabbing your bag and the small pile of clothes on your way. Although, you weren’t tired. How little sleep had you gotten used to having in the last world you’d been in? Your new goal for the day was learning to read a clock. You set your stuff on top of the small desk in the room, then headed back out to the library. There were so many books lining the shelves. You were sure they were filled with all sorts of fantastic information, but since you didn’t know how to read English, all you could do was admire them. You plucked one from where it was nestled on the shelf and opened it, smiling a little as your fingers danced lightly across the page filled with words. The scent of the old book almost circled around you, and you almost chuckled.

“Sam’s scent,” you mumbled, smiling a little.

You sat down at one of the library tables and slowly flipped through the book. It had some pictures but without the explanation, you didn’t know exactly what you were looking at.

“You’re up early,” Sam said, somewhat surprised as he stopped when he saw you in the library.

“I’ve been up for a while,” you replied as you looked over at him, “Will you teach me how to read a clock?”

He chuckled, “You really are adorable, Y/N. Yeah. I can teach you how to read a clock. Lemme get some coffee.”

You felt a slight warmth in your cheeks when he called you adorable, and you weren’t entirely sure what to say in return. As he walked away, you closed the book and returned it to where you’d found it, then sat back down and attempted to wait patiently for Sam to return.

Now on the fifth go around with numbers, several pieces of paper, Sam’s laptop open with a clock on it, you were slightly frustrated.

“Why does this seem so difficult?” you grumbled.

“What are you two up to?” Dean asked, finally awake and in the war room.

“Numbers are annoying,” you grumbled again, laying your head on your arms on the table.

“Sam, did you try with coins?” Dean asked.

“No. I was trying to teach her what the numbers were, not how to count,” Sam told him in a slightly smart-ass way.

“I got you, Sweetheart,” Dean told you, “Lemme grab some coffee real quick.”

When Dean returned, he had a cup of coffee and a box. He sat down on the other side of you, smiling.

“How are dominos going to help her learn numbers?” Sam asked, both confused but also amused.

“You’ll see,” Dean chuckled as he dumped the dominos out of the box.

You sat up a little, watching Dean. He was grouping the small rectangular objects with dots on them. Then he took some of the paper, drew numbers on them, and then put one of the objects under the number.

“Okay, Sweetheart. Technically, these are called dominos, but right now, that doesn’t matter. I know you can count. This will help you make the correlation,” he chuckled.

Dean continued to explain his concept to you as you tilted your head in curiosity. He started at the first one. The domino had a single dot on it, and the paper had a number. Once you caught onto his concept, it was reasonably straightforward. The amount of dots equaled the number on the page. Sam just shook his head at how his brother had taught you numbers.

They did get a little complicated after ten, but with some practice, you picked it up quickly. Dean grabbed Sam’s laptop and explained how the numbers were divided by the hour and the minutes and had your wrapped attention. Once you were able to tell him the time consistently, you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you, Dean,” you told him happily, “Now I’m hungry.”

He chuckled, hugging you back, “You’re welcome, Sweetheart.”

Once you disappeared into the kitchen, Ssam turned toward his brother, “I can’t believe you taught her numbers with dominos,” he chuckled, thoroughly amused.

“It worked, didn’t it?” he asked, rather proud of himself.

Before Sam could answer, you poked your head out of the hallway for the kitchen, “Umm, I kinda need some help with what's okay to eat.”

“I’ll help her with breakfast. You’ll try to make her eat salad or something,” Dean told Sam before he joined you in the kitchen.

You followed him to the fridge, curiously attempting to see what he was getting out, but when he backed up, he bumped into you.

“Tell you what. Have a seat on the island there, and you can watch, okay?” he told you, trying not to chuckle at how adorable he found your curiosity.

“Okay,” you sighed.

You hopped up onto the island but occasionally had to move to see what he was doing. You were careful, though, to avoid bumping into what he had placed on the island. The familiar scent of bacon wafted through the air, causing you to purr. You weren’t quite sure what the other two things were, but they smelled delicious as well.

“Alright, have a seat at the table,” he told you, plating up what he had cooked.

“What is it?” you asked, moving to the table.

“I give you bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns with two pieces of toast,” he explained, setting the plate down in front of you.

Your eyes followed the plate and widened when you saw the deliciousness in front of you, “Looks yummy.”

“Dig in, Sweetheart,” he chuckled before he began cleaning up.

He could hear you purring from across the kitchen as he cleaned and you ate. He was also missing the you from this time but refused to let it show. Dean knew you couldn’t feel the connection and that you wouldn’t feel it fully until Sam hit eighteen.

You happily ate, enjoying the new food, especially when you ate some of it all together. At least now, you could tell time here, and you planned on figuring out how long you normally slept for. Once you finished eating, you took the dishes over to the sink. You’d watched how Dean had washed the other things, so decided to attempt washing yours.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, slightly puzzled.

“Helping,” you mumbled, messing with the nobs on the sink.

He chuckled and walked over to you, “This one’s hot, that one is cold. You need hot water to wash dishes with so it gets all the food off,” he explained gently.

“I know how to wash dishes. It’s just a little different in your world than mine,” you told him, using the scents in the air to direct you to the soap and sponge.

Dean leaned against the counter and watched you, arms crossed. The hot water was hotter than you had expected, so you had to turn on some of the cold one so it didn’t burn your hands. You wondered why Sam had stayed in the library but didn’t ask. Your mind wandered for a moment.

Two mates…

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. Sorry. I got lost in thought,” you replied, putting the now clean dishes into the drainer with the others.

“Whatcha thinkin' about?” he asked fairly curiously.

“Just stuff you don’t want to tell me about,” you answered plainly as you dried your hands on a towel nearby.

Dean sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad. It just sucks,” you replied, now looking up at him, “So, now what? You said I was here for two weeks.”

“I’m not sure, really,” he answered, looking like he was attempting to think of something.

You giggled at the face he was making, “Let’s go see if Sam has any suggestions.”

Dean rolled his eyes but followed you to the library, “Sam, got any suggestions for what the three of us could do while Y/N is here?”

“Hmm,” Sam hummed, now thinking as you and Dean sat down in the library.

You noticed how Sam had cleaned the things up from when Dean taught you about numbers and how to read time here. While Sam thought, your mind wandered again.

When does it happen? Am I in their world when they feel it? How do I get back to the right time? Where do I end up after this shift? Why do they have to smell so good? How would two mates even work? Do they get jealous of each other?

Too many questions with no answers. You knew you couldn’t ask them. They already wouldn’t give you answers you wanted. As your thoughts traveled down a very intimate path, Sam finally spoke, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Well, we could teach you to read English so you can read some of the books. Then there are games we could play that you might like,” Sam shared, using his memories of her future self and the things they’d all done in the past.

“We could spar a little,” Dean chuckled, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“You sure you wanna do that?” you asked, not completely understanding what he was suggesting.

“You might learn something on how to defend yourself better. Plus, it’s all in a friendly way. We wouldn’t be doing it to hurt each other,” he explained.

After mulling over what they had both suggested, you opted for learning to read English, at least to start with. Dean grumbled a little, so you told him that when you needed a break, you’d want to try the sparing with him. Seeing him smile like a happy child made you giggle.

Sam moved so that he was sitting next to you with his laptop open. You watched as he pressed the keys, and things changed on the screen. Learning how to read wasn’t too tricky, as you had picked up speaking English quickly on your first visit to Earth. He started with simple words and worked up to harder, more complicated ones.

Four or so hours later, Dean was beyond bored, and you could tell. Sam had switched from the laptop to several different lore books from the bookshelves. You found reading fascinating, along with the information the books held. A plate being set on top of the pages you were reading caused you to look up seeing Dean.

“Figured you were hungry. It’s past lunch,” he told you, attempting a smile.

“Oh. Uh, thanks, and I’m sorry. I’m not used to paying attention to time,” you replied, feeling bad.

Dean sighed and sat next to you, “Don’t feel bad. I just wanted to spar with you today, but you looked so happy reading, I didn’t want to ask.”

You gave him a small, happy smile, “Then after I eat, we’ll spar,” you replied, then looked at Sam, “Are you coming too?”

“Sure,” Sam chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

The sandwich was delicious. You had really missed Earth food, and this one was new, with new items and flavors that made you purr as you ate. Dean had even brought you a soda. The bubbles it had, which Dean explained was carbonation, tickled your nose, making you giggle. The belch you released caused both brothers to laugh.

“Ready?” Dean asked, getting up from his seat.

“Definitly,” you replied with a mischievous smirk.

You followed Dean while Sam followed you to the gym. As Dean opened the door, your eyes widened with awe at everything inside the room. You had seen it when he’d given you the tour the day before, but this time, you were able to look at all the objects in the room. Everything was placed neatly around the room. You only vaguely knew what these items were, as you’d seen most of them on TV on your first visit to Earth.

Dumbbells and barbells of varying sizes were neatly organized on racks along the walls. Vintage boxing equipment adorned one corner of the room, its weathered leather and polished wood exuding a sense of timeless nostalgia. Heavy punching bags hung lifeless from the ceiling, their surfaces worn smooth from countless rounds of training and sparring.

In the center of the room, several thick mats lay on the floor, ready for sparring between the brothers and now you. Dean slipped off his shoes, as did Sam before they walked onto the mat. So, taking that as a queue, you did the same.

You felt giddy as a sense of anticipation coursed through your body, watching the brothers for a moment. They had no idea what you’d learned in the last two places you’d been, or at least, you hoped they didn’t know. It would at least give you an advantage, even if this was just for fun.

“You ready for this, kitty cat?” Dean teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

Your ears twitched in amusement at the nickname, your tail swishing behind you in anticipation, “Bring it on, Winchester,” you retorted, voice laced with determination and playfulness.

At least it would be one-on-one, as you weren’t sure you could manage both of them at the same time. You and Dean nodded in agreement before you both lunged forward simultaneously. Your movements were a blur of speed and agility. However, your cat-like abilities gave you the upper hand.

Dodging Dean’s hits and attempted grapples was simpler than you had expected, and you wondered if he was going easy on you. So, after dodging yet another punch, your muscles coiled like a spring as you countered with a swift kick to his side. Hoping back a couple of steps, you smirked, looking at him.

He grunted as Sam chuckled. Dean stumbled back a bit, but his grin widened into a smirk, “Not bad,” he admitted, his eyes alight with excitement, “But let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Sure you aren’t going easy on me, Winchester,” you chuckled, distracting him with your words.

Wasting no time, you launched another attack, your movements fluid and precise as you danced around Dean’s defenses with practiced ease. Your cat-like agility allowed you to move with lightning-fast reflexes, darting in and out of his reach with grace and finesse. You found it fairly fun to just tap his body instead of actually hitting him. Just showing him you had the ability was far more amusing.

The few hits Dean did get in were light in comparison to things you’d fought before. Although, you were still fairly certain he was going easy on you. He did manage to block several of your jabs, but it taught you how he moved, making further hits far easier.

“Pretty sure she’s up on hits, Dean,” Sam chuckled from the sideline.

Dean refused to take his eyes off you, watching how you moved, “Shut up, Sam.”

In one last swift movement, you knocked his feet out from under him, chuckling as he landed flat on his back, “That the best you’ve got, Winchester?”

All he did was smirk as he grabbed your leg, pulling you to the ground with him, where he attempted to pin you, “Just a friendly sparing match, Sweetheart.”

You smirked, not only getting out of his hold but turning things around so that you were now pinning him, “Still think you’re going easy on me.”

“All right. That’s enough for one day,” Sam chuckled.

“What? Worried I’ll pin you too?” you asked Sam, not taking your eyes off Dean.

“Alright, Sweetheart, let me up,” Dean chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, letting go of him and moving so he could stand. You had no idea that he knew your weaknesses, although he wasn’t going to use any of them. You were far too young for him to use those particular tactics this time.

“No. Just figured we could all relax with a movie before dinner,” Sam chuckled again as he slipped on his shoes.

“I like movies,” you replied happily, picking up your shoes so you could just toss them into your room. Walking around in socks was far more fun as you could slide across the smooth floor of the bunker.

Halfway through the movie, you looked over at Dean, who was to your right in the chair again, debating the question you’d been thinking about since you’d gotten there. “Do you know where I’m going to end up after here?”

Dean paused the movie and looked over at you, as had Sam, “All I can tell you is that it won’t be as bad as the last place. You still have to be careful, though,” he answered, hating he couldn’t tell you more.

You sighed and looked back at the TV screen, so he pushed play as the brothers shared a silent conversation through their expressions.

Dean again carried you to your bed that night, as you hadn’t wanted to go to sleep after one movie, and left you with Sam to watch another while he had made dinner. The three of you even ate while watching the movie.

That first week passed quickly, too quickly for you. There was laughter, teasing with light banter and jokes, and there were too many times when you’d get quiet or they would. It was those awkward moments you wanted answers for.

You also realized you had horrible sleeping habits. Some nights, when you’d go to sleep, you’d sleep for six hours; other times, it was only a couple, and you’d end up needing to nap during the day. It took almost that whole first week to fix that, so you were sleeping all night. On the nights you were awake, you’d spend your time in the library, reading the lore books.

During those times when you’d read, your mind drifted to your interactions with the brothers. The way they would look at you when they thought you weren’t paying attention. Their scent was also different from the last time you’d seen them. They always acted as though they wanted to be closer to you but were keeping their distance on purpose.

That second week, Dean introduced you to his music. Due to your hearing, he couldn’t turn it up as loud as he usually would have. He did watch you, though, as you listened to the words and the beat, adoration in his eyes and a soft smile. Sam chuckled, watching the two of you. Some of his music you really enjoyed. The ones with an upbeat sound made you want to move your body along with it. The slow ones weren’t your favorites, but you listened to them because you were curious as to what they were about and why Dean liked them.

When you asked Sam about the kind of music he liked, Dean just rolled his eyes. Then, he went to make some food while Sam shared some of his favorites with you. You noticed Sam had more love songs mixed in with lighter rock music, some country, and more recent things. Some of the songs were even sweet, making you smile a little.

“There’s nothing like that where I’m from,” you told the brothers as the three of you ate some lunch Dean had prepared.

“There’s probably nothing like it in any dimension that isn’t similar to Earth,” Dean chuckled.

“Is there any more pie?” you asked curiously, but also wanting to change the subject. You could tell that the brothers didn’t completely agree on music.

“Sorry, Sweetheart. You had the last slice a few days ago,” Dean answered, feeling a bit bad that they were out.

“I can go make a run, pick some up,” Sam offered, knowing his brother needed this time with you more than he did. He also had far more patience than Dean did.

“Really?” you replied, your ears perking up at Sam’s words.

Sam chuckled, “Yeah, really.”

You jumped up from your seat, quickly going over to Sam and hugging him tightly, overjoyed. “Thank you.”

He gently put his arm around you, holding you close rather than hugging you. “You’re welcome.” There was also a softness in his tone and his touch, which you didn’t miss. It made all those questions circle through your mind again. You watched Sam head to the garage before you sighed and sat back down, confused and mildly frustrated.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked you from across the table.

“Just questions you won’t answer,” you grumbled.

“Sweetheart,” Dean sighed sadly.

“I know. You can’t tell me stuff. It just sucks, that’s all,” you replied quietly, fidgeting with your fingers.

“Come on. Let’s play a game,” he offered, trying to brighten your mood and change the subject.

You tilted your head at his suggestion, puzzled but also curious as your ears perked up. He went over to a shelf on the far side of the library and grabbed a rectangular box before sitting back across from you, smiling like a little kid. You found him looking fairly adorable at that moment.

“This is a game called Sorry. Since you can read now, it should be easy enough to follow along,” he explained.

Dean explained the rules and that you had to pick a color for the pieces that would be yours. So, you chose blue, and he chose red. The two of you played the game, and you got the hang of it quickly, realizing you did have a bit of a competitive side, which the game brought out. You were on the second game, halfway through it, when Sam returned with the pie.

Before you could tackle him with another hug and grab the bag containing the item you wanted, he held it above his head, causing you to pout.

“I’ll put a slice on a plate for you. You can’t have the whole thing in one sitting,” he told you, attempting to keep from chuckling as you tried to reach the bag he held over his head. Perhaps if you weren’t 5’2”, you might have been able to reach it better.

“Come on, Sam. Let her have the pie. One time won’t hurt her,” Dean chuckled, trying to persuade his brother.

“You’re as bad as she is,” Sam chuckled, finding you rather amusing as you still were attempting to reach the bag.

“Pwease,” you begged, pouting slightly, trying to give him those kitten eyes.

It took everything in Dean not to lose it laughing as Sam sighed, giving in and handing you the bag that contained the pie. You were acting like an adorable kid, and he couldn’t tell you no when you looked at him like that; neither of them could. You may not have known that at the time, but you’d learn later on.

“Lemme get you a fork,” Sam chuckled.

You were grinning from ear to ear as you sat back down, pulling the pie out of the bag and setting it on the table in front of you. The aroma filled our senses when you opened the package, closing your eyes to commit it to memory. You were so lost in enjoying the apple pie in front of you that you’d completely forgotten about the game you and Dean had been playing.

“So, you want to take your turn or just eat your pie?” Dean asked through a chuckle, making you giggle.

“We can keep playing,” you answered, then took another bite of pie before taking your turn.

Throughout the rest of the day, the three of you played different board games. Though, Dean suggested you cook with him when dinner time rolled around. The way the stove worked fascinated you. He didn’t have to build a fire or get the coals to the amount needed for whatever needed cooking. This thing, you just turned a nob, and the fire appeared under the burner. Then, you could adjust it to the strength you needed the flame. Yeah, you’d watched him cook before, but this was the closest you’d been to the stove so far when he started.

“I’m gonna teach you how to make those burgers you like so much,” he explained.

Smiling like a little kid again, you opened the fridge and pulled out the things you’d seen him grab before when he cooked these things. Like bacon and ground meat. Then, there were the toppings that he cut up, along with cheese.

“Somebody’s eager,” he laughed, watching you.

“I love these things. No other place has had anything like this,” you admitted, still smiling as you placed the items on the island for him.

Dean explained every step as he did it, starting with putting the ground meat in a medium-sized bowl and then adding the spices before mixing them into the meat. You helped him form the patties, watching carefully how he did it so you could mimic the outcome.

After washing your hands, Dean explained the cooking process, starting the burgers in one pan and the bacon in another. He even came up behind you, holding your hands gently. He showed you how to hold onto the handle of the pan while flipping the burgers with the spatula in your other hand.

It felt nice to be close to him, comforting in a way. He didn’t stay there long, though, before he leaned against the island and sipped his beer, just watching you cook.

He began slicing up the toppings, and you wanted to help with that, too. So, he explained how thick things needed to be, and you grabbed the onion, following his directions. The onion made your eyes and nose water, which was somewhat annoying but made Dean chuckle. Sam had even come to watch the two of you from the kitchen doorway, smiling softly at the scene of the two of you.

“Smells amazing,” Sam said with a smile as he finally joined the two of you once it was done cooking.

“She’s a quick learner,” Dean smirked, watching you plate up a burger for yourself.

“It helps when I have a good teacher,” you smiled, looking at the two of them, plate in hand. “Are we watching another movie or eating at the kitchen table tonight?”

“We can do another movie. How about an action one this time?” Dean asked.

“I think that’d be okay,” you replied, then headed toward the room with the huge TV.

And that was how most of the second week went. Dean taught you how to cook, the three of you played board games and watched movies, and the two of them taught you a few new things, one of which was how to use a gun and how it worked. Since you knew how to read at this point and had read several of the lore books, they also taught you what killed what in their world.

You woke one morning, near the end of the second week, feeling a pull toward something. It wasn’t the scent you’d been following. No, this was a different sort of feeling. You dressed, then made sure your bag was packed with all your belongings, including the new things the brothers had given you.

I don’t want to leave, but I know I can’t stay.

It was early, just after seven, when you set your belongings on one of the library tables. The oddest thing about this particular visit to Earth was that you hadn’t gotten any abilities like you had in the other worlds.

Perhaps it’s because this is the future here and not the present time?

Your ears drooped as that familiar scent drifted along the air.

Almost time…

Now, all you had to do was wait until the brothers woke up and came into the library. You knew that if you walked out of that room, you’d end up in another dimension. That was how it always happened. The scent would come, and you’d walk through some sort of space between two objects or a doorway, and then you’d be in another dimension. You closed your eyes and really took in the scent this time: the scent of the pages of an old book, pine, apple pie, oil, coffee, mint, and that one shampoo in the shower you thought smelled almost like pine but slightly different. It was the brothers’ scents, all mixed together, but it wasn’t like what they smelled like now. It was from a time that you wanted to get back to, as this was the future and not where you were meant to be.

“You okay?” Sam asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

You gave him a small, sad smile, “It’s time, Sam. I have to go.”

Without hesitation, he went to you and pulled you into his arms, holding you close. It was far more than just a hug, “We will see each other again. You always find your way home, Y/N.”

“Thanks. I didn’t want to leave, without saying goodbye and… thank you, for everything,” you replied quietly, wrapping your arms around him.

“I’m gonna go get Dean. He’ll want to see you too, before you go,” he told you quietly, although he didn’t want to let go of you, not yet.

“I’m really gonna miss you guys,” you said, now fighting back tears of sadness at leaving them yet again.

Sam gently squeezed you one more time and kissed the top of your head before he headed to wake up his brother. The two returned shortly afterward. You hadn’t gotten ready, not quite yet. It would have been challenging to hug Dean with your stuff on you.

“Has it really been two weeks already?” Dean asked, now wide awake.

“Yeah,” you sighed.

He then wrapped you up in a hug, but it was more like an intimate embrace. So, you put your arms around his waist and held him just as close. The goodbyes last time were bittersweet as well. This time, though, it felt harder.

“You’ll be okay. You always find your way home, Sweetheart,” and there was a softness in his words that made you both feel comforted but also like you wanted to cry.

“I’m looking forward to when I can finally stop dimension-hopping,” you mumbled, leaning your head on his chest.

“We’ll never stop looking for a way to help you with that,” Sam said, and you realized he was now standing next to his brother.

The two of them hugged you, sandwiching you between them. The feeling of safety, comfort, peace, and then something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on made you want to stay. You knew better, though. Fighting against following the scent only ended up hurting you in the long run.

When the scent came again, you pulled away from the two of them, tossing your bag over your shoulder and grabbing your spear before you looked back up at them.

“I’m gonna miss you two,” you told them, trying not to look as sad as you felt.

They both gave you a comforting smile, “We’re gonna miss you too. Hell, we miss you now, but we’ll see each other again,” Dean tried to reassure you.

With a deep breath, you walked toward the opening between the library and the war room, the scent drifting along the air, beckoning you to follow. You looked at the brothers one last time, trying to commit their appearance to memory before turning toward the opening, then stepped down the two steps toward the war room when everything changed.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 9 - Aqualumina

Link to the series Masterlist.

A/N: If you'd like to get in on the Dimensional Traveling, go to this link and leave me with a comment, or several, with as much or as little detail about the dimension you'd like the Traveler to end up in. If you'd like to have something specific happen, share that too. I'll make sure that you get credit for the idea you shared in the chapter in which your dimension is featured. I'd love to have as many readers involved as possible. I think this could be a lot of fun.

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list.

Tag List: @littlemadamred @mxltifxnd0m @foxyjwls007

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