#his reaction to his dad putting a hand on his shoulder was heartbreaking

[kneedeepindramaandcocaine]

I’ve been waiting for a Nico Di Angelo pov for 5 books and now it’s here it’s just unrelentingly sad.

[luveline]

Here’s an idea for the roan and eddie series?,,

what if Roan gets a bad toothache and Eddie + The reader have to take her to the dentist but it’s her first time so she’s extra scared and nervous about the dentist Eddie and The reader help try to get her to feel better about it

thank you anon! dad!eddie x almost step mom!reader, 2.5k

tw for dentist’s office visit and related minor trauma, minor oral surgery, sedation, infection and blood (there’s no graphic description but mentioned)

You're sitting in the back seat of Eddie's car, gaze flitting between his stone-set brow and his crying daughter intermittently. You've never seen Roan in pain like this before, and Eddie's reaction is heartbreaking. 

"I want more Mapap," Roan says tearfully, cheeks shining wet with tears and bright red, "Dad, I want Mapap, please." 

He keeps his focus on the road, but his voice betrays his panic, "You can have more in just a minute, babe. One minute." 

"I want it now," she says. 

Her toothache began a few nights ago after a mishap with a sharp tortilla chip. She'd cried unexpectedly —the older she gets, the better she handles small pains— and Eddie had doted on her lovingly, rubbing her back for hours until she was calm enough to show him the fallout. He shined a torch into her mouth and found the problem, a cracked baby tooth, her spit orangey-red with blood. 

He called the dentist the next morning, though she'd woken up without a fuss, and they'd agreed to see her in four days time to make sure it wasn't a problem. 

Three days later, it’s definitely a problem. Clearly the cracked tooth and exposed gum has become infected and left your poor almost-daughter in a lot of pain (almost because you and Eddie aren’t married yet, not because you don't love her like one). 

You give her knee a little rub, shushing and humming as sympathetically as you can. 

"Almost there," you murmur. 

"It hurts," she says sullenly, "daddy, I want the Mapap." 

Eddie's shoulder tense. He's not mad, you know that, he's just not sure what he can do. He licks his lips, turning into the parking lot, and doesn't answer until he's parked. 

"I'm coming, Ro," he says, "two seconds."

Eddie gets out of the car. You wait for him to open her door and scoop her out of her car seat before you get out yourself, dipping into the passenger side for the papers he'd set aside earlier, all of her medical information in a neat folder. 

You're pretty sure he forgets to lock the car, pat pat patting Roan's back as you begin the short walk to the dentist's office. Roan whines for painkillers and Eddie praises her for being so good rather than refuse her again, "You're so brave, babe," he says, arms full as you reach the door. 

You put your hand on his elbow before you open it. "I got this," you say. 

He nods stiffly. Together, you enter the dentist's office and Eddie quickly takes a seat, Roan longer than ever and yet impossibly small as she curls up in his lap, her swollen cheek held away from his chest. 

"I want to go home," she says, "I don't like it in here. I want to see Uncle Wayne." 

"Hi," you say as you approach the front desk, wincing at her crying behind you as it grows louder, "we’re here for an emergency appointment for Roan Munson."

The receptionist smiles, clicking Roan's name into the computer. She nods, ticks a box or two, and hands you a clipboard. "Fill this in, please. The dentist is on schedule, so it should be any minute now. Don't worry about finishing the form in time, as long as you hand it back before you leave." 

"Thank you." 

Eddie's promising things as you return, hand on Roan's knee. "I swear, sweetheart, it'll stop hurting any minute now. The dentist will give you a little bit of medicine to make the pain stop, and then he'll fix your tooth. How's that sound?" 

"I want medicine at the house," she says, eyes wide. 

Her wriggling panic from the pain has abated some now Eddie's holding her, but she hates the dentist, and it's written plainly on her face. The poor baby is terrified. 

You fill in her clipboard forms as best as you can. You're a Roan expert at home, having known her for more than a year and loving her that whole time, but there's some medical stuff you can't answer. You don't know what her blood type is, you certainly can't tell them where she was born. You assume Hawkin's general hospital, but you just don't know. If they wanted to know her favourite pair of shoes, or what shape she likes her pancakes in, you’d be the girl to ask. 

"You gotta fill this in," you say. 

Eddie looks up. "What?" 

"I don't know this stuff, sorry." 

He gives you a quick smile and takes the clipboard. "That's alright," he says, pressing it to Roan's leg. "Roan doesn't know your blood type either. Equal exchange." 

You crouch down by their seat and meet Roan's eyes. Tender, you tuck a sweaty curl behind her ear and give her your softest smile. 

"You're so brave, princess. You just tell me what you want after this and we'll go get it. Anything you want." 

Her lip wobbles. "It's scary in here," she says, like she's breathless. 

You find her hand and take a deep breath, hoping she'll take her own to match. 

“Don’t be scared. Me and dad are right here with you. Don’t be scared.” You smile at her, though really you want to frown, perturbed by her sniffling and her rumpled hair, her tear-sticky collar. “You think I’d let them hurt my girl? No way. We’re here to make you feel better, and I promise that’s all we’re gonna do. Me and dad aren’t going anywhere.”

She gets called into the dentist's office soon after. You take back the clipboard and Eddie puts her down on her own two feet for the short walk into the room, wiping his face with the back of his hand. You say polite and rushed hellos to the dentist and her assistant. 

"Hi, Roan," says Dr. Mackenzie, a tall, pretty black woman in scrubs and a white doctor’s coat . She’s known Roan since she had teeth to look at, but her presence unfortunately doesn't calm her. "I didn't think we'd see you so soon. What's the matter, hun?" 

"She cracked her tooth on a tortilla chip," Eddie says succinctly, though he does add, "Hi, Dr. Mackenzie. It's good to see you." 

She waves her hand at Eddie, grinning at you. "God, he's charming. Alright, Roan, let's have you up on the big chair. Dad can hold your hand, here we go." 

The assistant stands with her prepped tools, and Dr. Mackenzie grabs the circle light and moves it over Roan' face. Eddie rubs her little knuckles in a careful hold as Dr. Mackenzie investigates the wound. You stand off to the side feeling useless and wishing you were the one holding Roan's hand as she yelps. 

"I see," Dr. Mackenzie says. "Okay, so this is the tooth with the cavity we filled last time, do you remember? It's only a little tooth, and we wanted to prolong its lifespan, but the filling we used was a temporary one because it was white. White fillings look good, but they aren't as strong, and you must've had a very sharp chip. So what I want to do now is take an x-ray to assess the infection, and then we'll fix your poor tooth. How does that sound, dad?" 

"Is it a bad infection?" Eddie asks worriedly. 

Dr. Mackenzie shakes her head. "Not necessarily, but the tooth is cracked all the way to the root, that's why she's in so much pain." 

"Can I have Mapap now?" Roan asks, when the mirror tool's and the lollipop stick have been removed from her mouth. 

"Something stronger," Dr. Mackenzie agrees. 

You and the dentists have to step out of the room for the x-ray, but it only takes a second. Eddie stays and absorbs whatever miniscule radiation it is that's exuded. They don't show Roan, but the infection is a small abscess in her gum wrapped around the root of the tooth. Dr. Mackenzie has a couple of options for treatment, but the best and luckiest is that Roan can either be put under mild sedation or she can breathe some nitrous oxide, both methods avoiding all the pain and traumatic memory of an extraction. 

"It's more expensive to be sedated," Dr. Mackenzie says, because she has to. "But it's what I recommend."

Eddie's at the point where you're sure he'd do anything. "Then we'll do what you recommend," he says. 

"Alright. We'll only need a few minutes to prepare. Has she eaten today?" 

"Breakfast, but nothing since, she can't," you say. 

"Alright. Roan, I'm gonna give you a glucose dissolvable, hun. It tastes very sweet and chalky, but I want you to try and let it dissolve on your tongue, okay? You don't have to chew it." 

Roan eats the glucose tablet. You and Eddie stand hip to hip and as out of the way as you can manage as they prepare the room for her procedure, laying the chair very flat. When it's time to start, they usher you back to the chair at the opposite end of the room. Eddie holds her hand the whole time. They medicate her, and you're glad she's sedated, even if the procedure isn't especially brutal. They clamp and wiggle out her broken tooth in two clean pieces in about a minute, before draining the abscess and packing her wound with gauze. It's done in fifteen minutes altogether. 

They give her a couple of minutes to come around properly, asking guiding questions. Do you feel any pain, hun? Dizziness? Do you feel sick? 

Eddie doesn't let her walk. He picks her up with infinite gentleness and positions her head on his shoulder like a pillow, smoothing the hair from her face a strand at a time as the dentist talks about cleaning and prevention of further infection. 

"She might, uh, need to spit," the assistant remarks. 

Drool dribbles down Eddie's front. He's practically all smiles now that she's finally out of pain. "That's okay, I'm used to it by now." 

Back to the waiting room for more paperwork. There will be another heap to come in the mail sure enough, you can already picture the arguments you're going to have on the phone with Eddie's insurance, 

"World's most expensive bag of Doritos," you remark on the way back to the car. 

Eddie's thumb rubs thoughtlessly against the bumps of her spine. "My girl," he says, not talking to you, lips on Roan's forehead, "poor girl. Though I bet that's much better relief than a spoonful of Mapap, huh?" He kisses her smooth forehead. "You're the bravest girl in the whole world." 

His severeness startles you, but of course you agree. "The bravest in the universe," you agree. "How about I drive, handsome?" 

Eddie dotes the entire drive. You make a stop at the store for soft foods, ice cream and yogurt and soup, as well as a cute cup to make the salt water wash she's going to have to endure more appetising, as well as some general treats. Eddie, usually averted to you spending money on treats, doesn't say a bad word when you show him the new pyjamas, socks, and Barbie doll you've bought for her. He strokes some life into Roan's cheek and says, "Oh, look what Y/N's got for you, angel." 

"This isn't her present," you say firmly, turning back to the wheel. "She still gets to choose something else." 

Eddie kisses the top of her head, pleased when she has the sense about her to say, "My mouth tastes funny." 

"Yeah?" he asks. "You want to drink some of my water?" 

She drinks some water, though the majority of it ends up back in the bottle. She's still mildly woozy when you park the car in the driveway to your house and usher them inside of your sanctuary. Eddie's wrapped her up like an octopus, unwilling to part with her, and for once allowing you to expend some of your own energy on things that need to get down. You set them up with drinks and blankets and TV while you clean the mess of the kitchen. You give yourself a breather by the open window, and it's quiet enough to hear Eddie's praising murmurs. 

"You're so, so brave, Ro. You're such a brave girl, and me and Y/N have never been so proud of you… I know this has been a really hard week for you, and I promise I'm gonna make it up, okay? I love you." 

"...Love you, daddy." 

"I love you," he says again. "Can I have a look at your gauze, sweetheart?" 

"I'm tired." 

"Really quickly. Really quickly, and then we'll get you into some pyjamas." 

There's a gap of silence. 

"Dad, you have yucky stuff on your t-shirt." 

"Ew, I know. I was just crying so much worried about you," he teases. 

You grin at his silly fib and trek back into the living room where Roan's propped back on her big fluffy pillow on the couch, Eddie leaning over her just slightly. He's inching forward threateningly, Roan's gross dribble splotch on his chest and growing closer and closer. She giggles lazily. 

"Don't," she begs. 

"Don't what? You don't wanna hug me?" 

"Get changed, dad," she says, pushing his chest away. 

He sits up, noticing you where you wait by the back of the couch. "Hey. Y/N's gonna sit with you and I'm gonna change my shirt, okay? I'll be really fast, Ro, and then you owe me a hug." 

Roan sighs morosely. "Okay, you can have a hug now." 

"I can?" Eddie beams at you, beams at his girl, and looks properly light-hearted for the first time in days. "Thanks, Roan. You're the bestest." 

"I know." 

Eddie grabs blindly for you and tugs you down to join the hug wonkily. It’s haphazard and ill-fitting, but he squeezes your shoulder, and you try to get in on the love. It reminds you of any other night. 

Eddie tears himself away from her eventually to change. You stop him from stepping around you, taking his stubbly cheek into your hand. “Good job, Munson,” you say, letting your hand slide down his neck to the curve of his shoulder. “You were…” You swallow down the cheesy praise you were going to give him. “I think you deserve a treat too.”

“We all do,” he says. “I know you were freaked out–”

“I wasn’t,” you interrupt, though you concede, “Okay, a little bit.”

“Me too. I’m majorly impressed by how fast they fixed her.”

“You’ll be majorly impressed by the bill,” you joke softly. 

He steals a hug. “Ah, well. Worth every penny, right?”

You hug him back. “Definitely,” you agree. She’s worth whatever it costs. “Good thing we’ve been saving. Goodbye, familymoon.”

“We’re still going on vacation,” he says. He pulls back to chuck you under the chin. “Even if we have to walk there.”

“Dad, can I spit again? My mouth tastes bad,” Roan says. 

You usher him upstairs and tend to his daughter unflinchingly, happy to take the icky job. She’s worth a million times more than a vacation, and you’d deal with worse than spit if it means she feels better. 

—

more eddie, roan and reader <3

[alectoperdita]

i don’t know how this could be conveyed in fic, but i’m always thinking about kaiba filming promos and what not for tournaments/dm stuff and he makes snarky jokes about jounouchi’s presence but the camera keeps zooming in his face to emphasize the adoration and glee on his face when he sees jou do /any/thing. but kaiba is not selfaware. he reviews the footage wondering why the cameras keep recording his reaction during jou’s duels instead of the audience. they want u 2 notice something, kaiba

Ooo this is such a juicy idea, anon! I love me a pining Kaiba. It's even more entertaining when he's a bit oblivious.

I know you didn't quite mean this as a challenge, but it activated my outsider-POV-loving neurons. So I attempted to write a little ficlet based on your idea. Sorry, that was why I was delayed in responding to your ask. Also apologies that I'm a little rusty. Haven't been writing regularly recently. 😭 I hope you still enjoy it.

---

Kenji always figured that Kaiba's, well, everything was an act. A show persona put on for the masses to sell his tech and promote his tournaments.

No one could be that genuinely ridiculous.

Except he was. Kaiba appeared to be every bit that extra, as Kenji's teenage daughter would say.

("Dad, no one says that anymore!")

Because in the week since he started following the larger-than-life CEO around, he recorded a number of baffling incidents on film. Initially, he wrote them off as the producers' or Kaiba's people's attempt to inject more oomph into the series. It wouldn't be the first time. Kenji wasn't paid to care about that. He was the film crew. His job was to point the camera wherever the producers told him.

But not even Kaiba would stage an attempted kidnapping as a publicity stunt, right?

Kenji could've done without that one. Not just because he got far closer to a gun-toting maniac than he ever wanted to. The police also confiscated his equipment and that day's footage for their investigation.

But they were back to business the very next day. Nothing changed except for a few extra suits lurking in the background. Kaiba showed no signs of being shaken or slowing down. He had a tournament to throw, after all.

That tenacity and resilience were admirable. Kenji could see why Kaiba was so successful at his young age. Barely nineteen and he had the world in the palm of his hand. It was easy to forget the boy wasn't that much older than Kenji's little girl.

Nowhere was that more apparent than when Kaiba was surrounded by his peers.

Kenji kept his camera trained on the trio of teenagers. Kaiba towered over most, including people twice his age. Next to Mutou Yugi, he looked like a telephone pole.

"Kaiba-kun!" Yugi grinned, craning his neck to meet Kaiba's eye. "Glad to see you're well!"

Even an old fuddy-duddy like Kenji (again, much to his heartbreak, his daughter's words) knew about the storied rivalry between Kaiba Seto and the King of Games. But he was surprised by how calmly and politely Kaiba returned the greeting, even if his tone was a touch gruff. Kenji was unfamiliar with the blond boy who slung an arm over Kaiba's shoulders, however.

The blond boomed. "Still in one piece, eh? Saw the news about what happened. You really kicked those guys' asses."

Kaiba swiftly threw off the arm, but the blond didn't seem too offended. He also took a step to the side to put space between them. In profile, the tips of his ears went pink.

"They should've known better than to try anything. They've learned the hard way," Kaiba grunted. He made a motion to dust off his left shoulder, where the blond's hand rested mere seconds ago, yet his fingers seemed to linger momentarily on his flamboyant coat.

Not that the blond noticed. He was busy sweeping his gaze across the surrounding. "Yeah, tournament security's tighter than usual. Noticed 'em spooks hanging everywhere." Then he spotted Kenji. Or more likely Kenji's camera lens. He immediately perked, straightened, and puffed out his chest while flashing a crooked grin. "Hey, are they filming me?"

"No, deadbeat. Who would want to film you? They're filming me," sneered Kaiba.

The blond snapped toward Kaiba and took a step forward with his hands fisted at his side. A menacing move if directed at most people, but Kaiba wasn't cowed. He merely stared down his nose at the other boy.

The air crackled with palpable tension. If they started fighting, should Kenji keep filming or break up the fight? His producers probably preferred the former.

Yugi's eyes flitted between the two boys, then to the camera. "Kaiba-kun, Jounouchi-kun, calm down. Let's not fight before the tournament. I'm sure Kaiba-kun didn't mean that."

Kaiba and the blond, presumably Jounouchi, stared at each other for several more beats.

With a scoff, Jounouchi wheeled back and stuffed his hands into his ripped jeans. "Whatever. They can get a load of when the great Jounouchi-sama beat your flat ass out in the arena."

Kaiba smiled a sharp, toothless grin. "In your dreams."

Another charged pause.

Yugi shifted nervously.

"Only if you're lucky."

Kaiba's expression froze up. It looked as if he'd blue-screened and crashed. His ears were definitely pink now, though Jounouchi likely didn't catch that given how intensely he was staring at Kaiba's face.

But it didn't escape Kenji's notice. Or his camera.

Jounouchi smirked. "What? Cat got your tongue there, Kaiba?"

Kaiba coughed, making an admirable recovery. His expression retained an imperious quality when he replied, "Hardly. I'm merely stunned by your astonishing lack of self-awareness."

Jounouchi rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. You're fulla hot air."

And just like that, they found their way back to the conventional arena of trash talk.

Yugi checked his watch. "We should get to our places, Jounouchi-kun. It's almost time."

"Run along, deadbeat. Or you'll be disqualified before you even take a step into the stadium."

Jounouchi made a rude gesture that Kenji was sure they'd blur in post. Yugi cheerfully wished Kaiba luck before following the other boy. Strangely, though, Kaiba's gaze seemed to linger on the departing figures. For no more than a beat or two, then he straightened and strode down the hall in the opposite direction, coat tails flaring dramatically in his wake. Kenji had to hand it to the boy's stylist.

***

There was a surprising amount of downtime when the duelists weren't playing. Much more standing around and gossiping and observing the current game than Kenji expected. Now that the tournament had officially started, Kaiba joined the other duelists stadium-side. Kenji naturally followed him.

Kaiba stood ramrod straight, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the tournament proceed. It was a picturesque pose, but even that became dull when he did and said nothing further. He had already played his first seed of the tournament and won summarily.

Kenji hoped this wasn't how the rest of the day played out. It would be dreadfully boring in that case.

Then Jounouchi took center stage for his duel.

Kaiba scoffed silently, but he remained as attentive as ever. Maybe even more so.

Not even two turns in, the mic picked up Kaiba's stray comments.

"Again with that unreliable gambling mechanic."

Still, he grunted in near approval when Jounouchi called his coin flip correctly. Soon, his stance and facial muscles eased to a state one might even call relaxed.

"Lucky," he muttered when Jounouchi countered his opponent's trap, but the light in his blue eyes shone brightly.

Kenji was a Duel Monsters novice, but he could read the room. The crowd's energy—Kaiba's energy changed as soon as Jounouchi was backed into the corner. Even Kenji winced when the opponent's monster halved Jounouchi's lifepoints with one attack.

Kaiba took a step forward before catching himself. A newfound tension vibrated through his body as Jounouchi picked himself from the floor. "Don't tell me that's all you got, deadbeat," he snapped to no one in particular. "This is just the first round."

Jounouchi didn't give up. Determination shone through his every move and declaration. It made for dramatic television, which the official tournament crew was filming. Kenji stayed focused on his assignment, which was recording Kaiba's every reaction to Jounouchi's moves.

A cheer rose among the spectator.

Kaiba stiffened, but the corner of his lips twitched. Upward. "Oh, he updated his deck."

Something warm and fond bubbled beneath the surface. It might be pride.

A dragon materialized on Jounouchi's side of the field. Kenji couldn't help but be struck by how its appearance was the polar opposite of Kaiba's sleek, white ace monster—black leather wings, sharp, and covered in spikes.

Ironic.

Or, dare Kenji think it as he zoomed in on Kaiba's face, serendipitous, judging by Kaiba's familiar expression. It was the same one Kenji's daughter wore when she thought of her "beloved"—one Kenji probably still made for his Ikuko. Infatuation was the best word for it.

***

"Isono."

"Yes, Seto-sama?"

Isono glanced up from where he was taking notes of his boss's comments to send back to the production team. Reviewing the cut footage took time, but Kaiba had a vested interest in how he was portrayed and he preferred the hands-on approach in this instance. Kaiba's brow furrowed as he watched scenes of Jounouchi's tournament duels interspersed with close-ups of his own face and reactions.

"Why is it so focused on the deadbeat's duels?" he asked. Not angry, though clearly baffled. Even now, Kaiba's attention was glued to Jounouchi's face as it always was whenever the blond duelist came into the vicinity.

A moth drawn to the flames.

Isono's eyes flitted between his boss's current oblivious face and his smitten expression caught on film. Most people wouldn't recognize him as smitten, including Kaiba himself. Isono did, thanks to his years of employment, though he initially doubted it. Evidently so did the cameraperson.

For a second, Isono contemplated confronting his employer about his crush. But he liked his job. Kaiba was a bright young man. He would eventually realize it, right?

He cleared his throat. "Jounouchi-san performed quite favorably in this recent tournament. Stories about underdog competitors are always a crowd favorite."

He gave himself a mental pat on the back. Both statements were technically true.

"He did perform above expectation," mumbled Kaiba, studying the paused image of Jounouchi on the screen.

Isono dared to hope on his employer's behalf. Then it was dashed.

"We'll see how long his luck lasts then," Kaiba smirked.

One day, thought Isono, Kaiba will realize what had been staring him in the face all along.

[sammypinkgirl]

Fallout 4 Companions React: Sole Survivor’s Parents Skeletons (Part 1)

—

Quick personal thing here: Hey people! I just wanted to say that I will be doing each of the posts I outlined in my upcoming ideas blog. Companion reaction posts honestly take a lot of time to write, so, just bear with me. 😅 I hope everyone is doing good. Leave me a comment on what you wanna see from me.

—

The Sole Survivor froze when their eyes rested upon the car. It was rusted, after two centuries of exposure to the elements, and its hood was buried in the crumpled side of a station wagon, but otherwise it was exactly as they remembered it two centuries ago. It was a sleek black muscle car, a statement among the surrounding family cars and pick’er up trucks. There was no way of mistaking the vehicle for anyone else’s. It was Sole’s father’s car. As they approached, slowly letting their rifle fall to the ground, they saw the two skeletons in the front seat. For a long time, Sole stood still, at a loss for words. Eventually they spoke, through welling tears. “This was my Dad’s car…”

—-

Piper: She could hardly believe it. She tried not to look inside as she approached, and put her hand on the square of Sole’s back.

“God Blue..I’m so sorry”, She said. “Do you need a minute? I can…wait over there, and give you space.”

Sole didn’t respond with words. Instead, they wrapped their arms around Piper in a hug, as they began to sob. They buried their face in her shoulder. She hugged them back.

“If it’s any consolation…I don’t think it was the bombs that did it.” She said. She couldn’t think of anything to say, anything that would help. She knew what it was like to lose a father, and the pain that came with it. They stayed like that, the two of them, as long as Piper felt it was safe. She didn’t want to be distracted in Lexington for too long. Eventually, she spoke, trying her best to not come across as rude. “We should get out of the street Blue… it’s not the safest here.” Sole responded, only with a silent nod, and a sniffle.

Piper looked into her companion’s eyes, and reassured them with sincerity.

“We’ll bury them blue, I promise.”

——

Preston Garvey:

Preston wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do when he heard. All the ideas he had of supporting Sole, the general, through their loss seemed insensitive. He hadn’t ever been a people person, or especially good at processing feelings. Eventually, he would speak, but not to Sole, just into the open air.

“Damn….” He would be sure to give them space, and assist in whatever Sole needed him to do. If they were going to bury some skeletons, then that’s what he’d do. He just did what he did best, follow orders. Overall, Preston would be sorry for Sole, and their loss. He just wasn’t sure how best to comfort them. He second guessed each idea as it ran through his head, on how to make the situation any better.

When Preston would speak to Sole, it would be earnestly. “I’m sorry for your loss General. I really am. If you need anything, you just need to ask.”Aside from that, he’d be sure to give them space.

—

Nick Valentine:

Nick knew by the look on Sole’s face that something was wrong. They hadn’t needed to say anything. Everything about them screamed sadness, especially their body language when they approached the car. He could see the hesitation, the dragging of their feet on the cracked asphalt, Nick knew it had to be a family car. When he saw their face, the recognition had been clear as day, the widening of their eyes, the welling tears… When they tried to approach the car, he’d been the one to put out his arm, in their way.

“You probably don’t wanna see what’s inside (friend/doll). How about you let me take a look first, hm?”

He didn’t want them to see it if they didn’t have to. If there was still any gore, anything unsightly, he wanted to be the first to know. When Nick did approach the car, seeing the skeletons inside, he sighed to himself. It was heartbreaking.

“Damn….” He said. “It never gets easier.”

He would do his best to cover the bones, using his coat. It wasn’t the best of ideas, but it right. He wanted to leave their memories intact. In the front cup holder, between the seats, Nick would find a sun bleached leather wallet, worn down by time. When he returned to Sole, sitting on a curb, he would hand them a drivers license from within. When he got the confirmation that it was Sole’s father on the card, he would take a seat beside them, and wrap an arm around them.

“I’m so sorry…”

—

Porter Gage:

“Hell Boss, What now?” were the first words out of Gage’s mouth. The sun was already lower than he’d have liked for the day’s travel, and after another petty argument, he wasn’t in the mood for something else to get in his way. The argument had been over something stupid, about how his new Overboss seemed different than the usual wasteland scum he’d met. He’d meant it to be a compliment, but of course Sole had taken it as criticism. Being misunderstood was one of Gage’s little pet peeves, and worse, was having words put in his mouth. Still fuming from the pissed off exchange, Gage approached his Overboss, standing in the middle of the street. At first, he didn’t notice the look on their face, after all he only had one eye, and had his mind on other things, but when he did turn to look them in the eye, he could see something was off.

“Uh…Boss…?” He started, “somethin’ wrong?”

For a moment, they didn’t reply to him, just staring through the windshield of the beat up automobile.

“This was my dad’s car. Two hundred years ago, this was….”, they paused, “these were my parents.” They said, pointing into the car, and to the set of bones inside.

“Shit…” Gage said. “I don’t know if mine are still alive, for what that’s worth. I’ll tell ya what though, your old man had some taste.”

“Yeah. This was his favorite car.” Sole said, quietly. They were getting more reserved, trying to not let the emotion show on their face. Gage could read people like a book, and he could tell a brave face when he saw one. He decided to give them space, after all, they were a human too.

“I’ll give ya some time Boss. I’ll be watchin’ your back from over there.”

—-

Dogmeat:

When Dogmeat saw that his beloved owner was upset, he did what dogs do best, and gave his master kisses. He would let Sole pet him as long as needed for the pain to go away, and resist the urge to sneak a bone when the skeletons were buried.

[mybrainiswild]

Broken Promises to myself

Daryl Dixon X Grimes Reader (Ricks daughter) established relationship

Warnings: Mentions of death, age gap, swearing

A/N: This fic is set in the prison during the flue outbreak. The reader is of legal consenting age however Daryl is older than her. I have not put an age on Daryl so you can do that yourself. part 2

Daryl had only been gone a few hours before I started to feel it. It came on gradually, starting as just a tingle in the back of my throat then cold sweats started wracking my whole body. That's when I knew I had been infected with whatever nearly everyone else had.

Tying a spare tang top around my face I started to make my way to the block the rest of the infected were, trying my best not to run into anyone. Keeping my head down I tried to stifle my coughs as much as I could as to not draw attention to myself. "Y/N/!" It was Carl one of the two people I didn't want to see right now. Without turning to face him I called back "Carl, go back inside ok? Just stay there, look after dad and Judith. You know I love you bud right?" The words just came out I wasn't thinking straight as my body couldn't decide weather it was hot or cold.

"Yeah I love you too but what's wrong?" "I've got it." It was all I had to say, he knew what I was talking about. "No!" His voice cracked, what would normally make me laugh and make jokes about him going through puberty was now something of hurt and heartbreak for both of us. "Dad! Come here!" He was yelling back behind him now trying to get Dad to come do something, anything. " Carl what's wrong?" It was now that I turned to face them, meeting my dads eyes I didn't have to say anything. He just knew.

Turning slightly he ran his hands over his face in a distraught manner tears forming slightly in his eyes. "No, no not you. You're fine I'm sure you are, you.." A deep cough one I'd been holding in for the past couple of minutes wracked through my body causing both dad and Carl to take steps back to ensure they weren't close enough to be infected. Carl was crying now and there was nothing I wanted to do more then wrap my arms around him and tell him everything was going to be ok just like an older sister should do.

However all I could do was comfort him with words. "Hey, Carl c'mon don't cry over me. Just think I'll get to see Mom again, we'll get to talk about how grown up you've gotten and how big Judith is. I'll tell her all about how good you are with her, how Beth sings her to sleep and how Daryl never calls her Judith. God she'll loose her shit when I tell her Daryl calls her daughter lil' ass kicker. Dad, I need you to do something for me. If I'm gone, witch I probably will be when Daryl gets back just tell him that I love him. I love you both too, and hey Carl you better tell Judith all the cool stories you have about me even the weird and embarrassing ones. I love you guys."

I didn't wait for a response I just turned and continued my way to the block. I let myself in and find Glenn sitting just outside a cell. "Shit." that's all he said when he saw me. "Wow, that is just the sweetest reaction anyone has had to seeing me." He knew the stiffness in my voice was from supressing tears, so he opened his arms allowing me to sit on the floor next to him with his arms around me as I cried into his shoulder.

From what I could tell about two days had passed since I first came to the block, so far I’ve had to put down three walkers witch in the grand scheme of things wasn‘t as many as I though I would. However my health was as I expected. Deteriorating. Lizzie and I sat on a bed together, my arms wrapped around her as I told her stories about my time in high school and all the crazy shit I got up to. Our laughter about the time I got my foot stuck in a chair while playing Fiona in Shrek the musical was interrupted by commotion at the entrance gate.

“I have to see her Carol. I have to see my girl.” It was Daryl, he was back. “you know you can’t go in there you’re not infected. She wouldn’t want you risking yourself.” "Daryl." he turned to face me the pain was evident rom his eyes I just wish I could see all of his face. The face of the most handsome man Id ever seen, the man I fell in love with but I couldn't. His nose and mouth was covered with his black bandana what I would give just to kiss those lips again.

"Carol's right, you shouldn't be here." "No, no I should. I love you too you know. I don't say it to you enough but I do I love you so much and I'm here to help. Look." He held up a large duffel bag in my direction. "We got the stuff. You'll take this and get better. I need you to get better ok, because I can't do this without you. I promised myself I wouldn't get too attached to anyone here so that loosing people wouldn't hurt. The moment you sat by me at the bonfire the night your dad came to the camp and asked how I was with the whole Merle situation I knew that I was gonna break that promise. I can not loose you."

"Daryl, Hershel is going to do everything he can and with that stuff the chances of us all getting better is higher but if things don't go to plan you have to let me go. ok? you have to take care of lil' ass kicker she needs her bad ass uncle to make sure she's doing good. And don't worry about me in here I've got Lizzie to fill in on a lot of stuff. For now you have to drop the bag and go back out there, deal with the walkers at the fence and keep everyone in line. Everyday I'll meet you in the interrogation room and you can fill me in on all the shit my dad is giving you. I love you, I'll see you tomorrow."

I turned grabbing Lizzies hand we walked back into my cell sitting on the bed in the same position we were in before. "So what story do you want to hear now?" "The one of you and Daryl. How did yous fall in love?"

[blessednereid]

August

WC: <4100

Mentions: Sexual innuendos, cursing, slut-shaming, Affairs/Adultery, Lying, Deceit

A/N: It’s an AU, basically where James and Lily don’t end up together, and the War ends before they graduate. Snape and Peter don’t become death eaters IG but that doesn’t really matter later on. Unedited, but it’s the last day of August so I gotta get it in NOW.

Pairings: James Potter x Reader, James Potter x Lily Evans, (future) Lily Evans x Reader

~~~

Y/N

*

Salt air

*

You and your boyfriend of two months are sitting on the shoreline of the shared beach near your houses. You’ve lived in the same neighbourhood for as long as you can remember, but never really noticed each other until your formative years. And the chemistry was undeniable, which is what led you to that precise moment.

“Hey, James… What do you think is going to happen when we go away for school?” you ask meekly.

Being a Beauxbaton student is as luxurious as it sounds. You never have to put up with brutish and grotesque boys in pissing contests, and while there may be catty classmates, there’s no fighting over boys. No heartbreak. No major drama.

That being said, that didn’t mean that none of you had boyfriends. You all had your fair share of suitors from Durmstrang or Hogwarts or some other school in the country. And yours was James Potter.

He is the epitome of a perfect boyfriend. He remembers small dates, like the exact day your cat died, and knows exactly what you need.

You don’t think you’ve loved anyone as much as you’ve loved him.

And that’s precisely why you’re so afraid to lose him.

You knew that the long distance between you would be difficult. What started as a summer fling quickly became something more, and James changed from a friend who could make you laugh your guts out to the boy that makes your heart sing.

He has his arms wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. The distance isn’t going to change my love for you.

But he doesn’t realize that it’ll change the amount he can express. And that’s going to be frustrating. You’ve only been together for a little while. So how would this even work?

“We just have to trust each other, darling. I love you, and you love me. That’s all that matters.”

“But James-”

“No buts,” he states stoically. “Nothing is going to change this. You just need to trust me, trust that this is going to work.”

James

*

And the rust on your door

*

He had told you exactly what he meant. That he loved you, and that you could trust him. He knew that he loved you, and that love had taken root in the deepest part of his heart. So when he opened the door to Sirius, Remus, and Peter’s room, since he would not be staying here this year, he not only felt excitement for the new year but sheer happiness at the fact that he had found someone who loved him as unconditionally as he loved her. He did feel some remorse that he wouldn’t be staying with his gaggle of mates though.

“Mate, what’s that grin on your face for? Haven’t gotten in any trouble without us, have you?”

Apparently, James’ inner monologue reflected on his face because all his friends were made aware of the grin on his face.

“No, I just…”

He’d managed to keep the relationship a secret from Sirius that summer because you didn’t want the already confusing relationship to be found out by the Wizarding World. For reporters to make it more convoluted and twisted than it actually was.

“I’m just glad to be back,” he says, deciding he needs to discuss with you if he could tell his friends about your relationship just yet.

*

I never needed anything more

*

When he saw Lily in classes the next day, a pang swam through his chest. He didn’t see her yesterday on the train. He wasn’t focusing on that. But now he was. He noticed that her red hair had been cut short to her shoulders and that she appeared much more confident. Her school blouse had the first two buttons popped, showing just the slightest bit of rosy cleavage.

No.

He had promised you that you could trust him, and you could. He knew you could. He was going to be the man that you deserved. Lily was in the past. Lily was a speed bump on his path to finding true love with you.

But why did the way he felt about Lily now feel as strongly as it did before?

And it didn’t help any when she waltzed up to his desk and straightened her arms right in front of his face, pushing out her chest, and making his lust and sexual drive soar. He was sure it was evident. That he’d broken out in a sweat, but he attempted to play it off as cool as an Autumn day.

“Hello James,” she greeted. “How was your summer?”

He gulped. In front of his eyes was a woman, the woman that he had wanted so desperately. He didn’t know her intentions, but he knew his thoughts. And if you could see his thoughts, could hear them… he knew you wouldn’t be pleased. He knew you’d realize that you’d been right in not trusting him. “Summer was fine, Lily-flower. And you? Hang around with Snivelly, any?”

“No, we haven’t talked since the end of last year. But I’m thinking that this is more room for opportunity, to make new friends, see the light, you know?” she grinned and it lit up his heart.

“So, I was talking to Remus, and he told me that I should give you a chance to be one of those new friends,” but the way she said friends implied something more. “And at first, I objected, and then I realized, I never really gave you much light in my eyes. Do you think you could change that, Jamesie?”

And fuck, if that didn’t make his heart race a little.

Lily

*

Whispers of "Are you sure?"

*

Lily and James were kissing passionately and furiously as they stumbled into her bedroom. Since becoming head girl, she had gotten her own dorm room. James had also gotten one, but Lily didn’t want to see how messy that room was.

She moved her hands from in between their two bodies and picked up her wand to cast several different nonverbal charms.

When she was done, she pushed James down onto the bed and began tearing off her clothes. And then his. When she was done and they were lying beside each other he muttered a final “are you sure?” to her, and she nodded. He kissed her with ferocious passion until the kiss became something more.

This happened again, again, again.

*

"Never have I ever before"

*

When James left Lily’s room for the fourth time that month, she pressed two fingers to her lips in reaction to his goodbye kiss.

“I’ve never felt this way about James. About anyone,” she thought.

He made her feel alive, he made her grin, he made her giggle, and he made her heart flutter when he was around her. Of course, she knew this when she approached him. She just didn’t think it would escalate to this level so soon.

She wants to shout to the world the way she feels about him, the way he makes her feel. How he can take her breath away and make her feel like the most important and most special girl on the planet.

Like she was made just and entirely for him, and that the same applied for him to her.

She couldn’t stop her wild dreams, the ones of vivid love and passion, the ones where he would kiss her, take her hand, and profess his love in grand displays. Where he’d fight for her and never leave her.

Fantasy and delusion never left her mind when it came to him.

*

Your back beneath the sun

*

He and she both lie underneath the sun, soaking up its rays, sharing its warmth, staring at the clouds trying to make out certain shapes.

It was a sunny December day, which was rare, so they were getting as much out of it as they could.

“James, we should study,” she lightly approached the devastating topic. “It’s not like I really want to, but what kind of example are we setting as head boy and girl?”

“Well, If we go back up to our dorms, nobody will know if we’re studying or doing something else,” he said with a wriggle of eyebrows.

“No, James!” she laughs, and he joins her. His pearly teeth both ensnaring her mind and rendering her unable to focus on anything but him.

“When’s the next Hogsmeade trip?” he asked casually while he laid back down with his head facing the sky.

“Most likely before the holidays.”

She saw his face contort when she mentioned the Christmas break.

“James, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just thinking about… the war.” His face was pale, and his face sour.

“I’m thinking of joining the order after I graduate, but it’s still scary, you know. I’m worried about my mum and dad.”

“Your parents are going to be fine, James,” she assured him, but she knew he would be fully relieved until the war was over and all death eaters were locked up.

*

Wishin' I could write my name on it

*

She was sitting with Remus in the library when he brought up James. Let the record show that he brought up James, not her.

“So, how is everything going with James?”

She sighed lightly. “It’s magic, Remus. Pun intended.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you feel that way, Lily. Really, he’s a good guy once you get past that facade he puts on. I knew you’d like him.”

“Yes,” she says faintly. Doubts flood her head about his own feelings.

“What’s wrong, Lily?”

Her eyes turn down to her paper before reaching up again to meet his. “It’s silly, but… sometimes I wonder if he truly feels the same. I mean, most people don’t harbour feelings for one person for this long. What if all along it was just lust, and he’ll cast me away now that he’s satisfied that urge.”

“Lily, I promise you, James has had eyes for no one but you for many years. I highly doubt that it was lust, James isn’t like that.”

“You know,” she smiled. “You’re right. I just wish this didn’t have to be kept so hush-hush. The amount of girls I see fawning over him is grotesque.”

“So then ask him,” he pushed.

She took that as a challenge. “Alright. I will!”

*

The next time Lily saw James, they immediately rolled into bed and did what lovers do. But after that is when she posed the question.

“James, would we- will we ever be able to make this public?” she asked in a stern voice.

She saw thoughts swimming in his head for a moment.

“Lily,” he rolled onto his side. “We- I… This needs to be a secret for now. I mean, we are waist-deep into this war, and with my plans to go into the order, I can’t risk anyone coming after you.”

His logic made sense to her, and the wizarding world would get too caught up with the son of a prestigious wizard family being with a muggle-born in the middle of all of this.

He was right, she just had to swallow her jealousy for now.

*

Will you call when you’re back at school

*

The next week, there was a Hogsmeade trip, and despite them staying near the Marauders, really, it was a date for James and Lily. Or at least that’s what it felt like. An unofficial date.

They bought each other gifts to open over the holidays, kissed discreetly under mistletoes, and held hands while walking through the village.

When they went to get butterbeer for the rest of the group, there was a long but comfortable silence for a while.

“So what are you doing for the holidays?”

“Just going back home, maybe making some treats with my mum,” he said casually. “What about you?”

“Same as you, I guess. I’ll miss you, though.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

She tapped her foot absentmindedly as they waited. “What if I came with you?”

“What?” Panic flooded his face. “No, you couldn’t come with me, I’m afraid. My house is an Order safe place. If a death eater found it, you could be in danger.”

“You’re in danger just being there.”

“And you’re in danger by just breathing, Lily! That would be a double danger. I’m not risking that.”

She cringed at her sudden need to be close to him. “Right, sorry. It was a silly idea. A mindless thought.”

His face softened when he saw her embarrassment. “I’d love to bring you home, Lily, but it’s not safe.” But by now she could tell that he was lying, there was something more.

*

I remember thinkin' I had you

*

On the train back from London going to Hogwarts, Lily sat with Marlene and Dorcas, she hadn't seen them quite as much as she would’ve wanted since the school year started, and now was the perfect opportunity.

Lily felt remorse and guilt for not telling her friends about such a crucial part of her life, her relationship with James Potter, and truly she wanted to, but what if they judged her? And Marlene has had a reputation for having a loudmouth. What if she said something and word got out?

They conversed in idle gossip before an interesting topic was brought up. One that left Lily infuriated, and ready to murder a smug bastard.

“Have you heard about Potter and that Beauxbaton girl?”

Her eyes raised in curiosity and scorn. “What Beauxbaton girl?”

Dorcas revealed as much as she knew about you to Lily, your name, family, status in the Wizarding World. By the time she was done, Lily was struck with disbelief.

“And you’re sure they were kissing?” she said in response to Marlene’s information about the article in the Daily Prophet with a picture of them kissing.

“Yes!” she exclaimed.

“I have the article right here,” Dorcas mentioned.

“Way to bury the lead.”

“Oh shush,” she said and handed Lily the newspaper out of her bag.

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The man she had been with for the past four months was kissing another woman. With Tongue.

“Well, that’s fantastic for him,” she said sourly. “He must feel so proud to have gotten a pretty girlfriend after pining after me for so long. I wonder how long it’ll be before he tries pining after me again,”

“Who knows, maybe it is serious,” Dorcas proposed.

Lily growled. “I don’t think it’s that serious if he’s sleeping with another woman.”

Marlene’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean-”

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” she said before exiting the cabin of the train and heading to find James Potter.

“So,” she said when she reached his compartment. “How long have you been seeing her?”

James looked shocked to see her. “Lily, I can explain.”

“Can you? Please explain then. Is this why I couldn’t come with you? Why you had to keep us a secret James? For Godric’s sake, how long have you been seeing her?”

He gulped. “Since the summer.” Even Sirius looked shocked.

“I lived in your house, and you didn’t tell me, mate?”

“Not the time,” Peter chastised.

“Are you serious James? You spouted all of that you love me bullshit when you were with someone else?” Her eyes radiated anger. It was like staring into the mouth of an actively-fire-breathing dragon. “Does she know about me?”

“No, she doesn’t,” he admitted.

Lily said one more sentence before stalking away. “Well, you better tell her, or I will.”

*

But I can see us lost in the memory

*

Lily had no intention of telling you anything. She didn’t even know you. How would she send an owl to a total stranger and tell them that their boyfriend has been cheating on them with herself?

Lily never set out to be a homewrecker. But she didn’t even know she was wrecking a home, to begin with.

This was James’ fault, and he was going to own up to it.

Besides, It deserved to come from him. Lily knew how she felt about being told that she was the other woman from some outside source, and she didn’t want to do that to anyone at all.

But not even the sting of betrayal could mask the ever-flowing sadness that emanated from Lily. She truly believed he was in love. And maybe he was. Just not with her. And that was okay, but she didn’t deserve what she was put through.

Still, that doesn’t stop the fact that she, herself, was in love with him, and how is she supposed to ever get over that betrayal.

*

August slipped away into a moment in time- 'Cause it was never mine

*

Within the next few months, Lily had fallen into a rut. Her grades began slipping, her mood and cheeriness faltered. Even though the Wizarding World War had recently been won, with death-eaters being locked away, that didn’t change her mood, because she wasn’t in the mood to celebrate, to begin with. Her friends noticed her down-in-the-dumps aura, and despite knowing the cause, and how it wasn’t their fault, they couldn’t help but want to help her, to fix her.

But no one could repair the damage that James Potter caused to Lily but Lily herself. And that started with making amends.

“I have to send a follow-up letter to that girl. So I’ll ask you. Have you told her yet?” She cornered James in the library because, despite Head Boy and Head Girl duties, they didn’t see each other much. After all, he was avoiding her as much as she was avoiding him.

He gulped, “I haven’t. Lily, I can’t tell her. It would kill her, she was so worried about the distance and when she saw me at Christmas break, she was so happy. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you started an affair with me, James. An affair I didn’t agree to. I didn’t want to be anybody's mistress. And she deserves to know, and I am going to send her a letter. Today! So if you don’t tell her, she will find out from me. I’ve given you months.”

“Lily, don’t do this. Please. I can’t tell her over an owl. It has to be in person.”

She faltered. He was right. His heart may have been in the wrong place, but his head is in the right one. Doing that, telling you over an owl could have devastating consequences. It was a discussion that had to be had in person.

“Easter Break. That is your chance, James Potter. After that, If you don’t I will.”

She turned on her heel and was about to leave the library when he grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“Lily, you have to understand, I never meant to hurt you,” he said. “I have fancied you for so long, and when you finally reciprocated this year, I didn’t want to pass up that chance. I was wrong. You are so amazing, and I shouldn’t have done what I did, but please believe this. You deserve so much, and I couldn’t and could never give that to you, but when I did this, I never meant to hurt anyone. I didn’t think it would go this far.”

She scoffed. “Well, it did, James. You hurt me. You betrayed me, and you betrayed her. Neither of us deserved that, no matter what.”

*

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

*

Guilt twisted in her stomach every time she thought of you. Jealousy was surely a stage at first, everything about you had her enchanted, your hair, your eyes, your glowing skin. She was enthralled, and she could see why James was too.

And then she remembered his nights in her dorm, on her bed. Tossing and turning with her, his lips on her mouth, and she didn’t feel envy. She felt regret and culpability. If she had pressed James harder about whether his feelings really were the same as before, if he’d really wanted to do this, maybe he wouldn’t have done it.

And then she wouldn’t be in this position, and you wouldn’t be about to come crash-landing on impact with this heavy, and taboo truth.

But this wasn’t about her, Lily realized. This was about you. And how you were going to feel once James told you what happened when the train meets the station, and that is all Lily can think of as she sits on her bed, staring out of her window. When her owl knocks on the window to deliver her mail, the headline of the Daily Prophet is what catches her eye. “The Prodigal son in an affair with a Muggleborn witch!” It goes on and on about how a secret inside source heard an argument between the two of them in the Hogwarts library.

There is no doubt that you have seen this, and James didn’t get to tell you. Lily didn’t get to apologize to you. This just got a whole lot worse, and Lily didn’t know how she was going to deal with the sudden turn of events.

James is the villain here, she reminded herself. James is in the wrong, but she knew that she was still an unwitting accomplice. And her gut wrenched as she pondered on that very true fact.

*

August slipped away like a bottle of wine

*

Lily had to get away from the wizarding world, so although she didn’t plan on going home for the Easter holiday, she had to now.

She was being shamed for her insidious relationship with James, by certain people, mostly Snape and his friends, that bastard. Most everyone was supportive, they realized she had no idea about your relationship, but she was still worried about what you’d say to James, but more about what’d you’d say about her.

Had James told you that she didn’t know? That he lied to both of you. Would you be mad at her either way?

Shame pulsed through her body, and she couldn’t imagine what her mother would say when she told her if she ever did.

Though when she got home, her mother instantly noticed that something was wrong.

Knowing she couldn’t take her mothers knowing stares and hard gaze, she instantly confessed to everything that happened over the semester. Her mother didn’t judge her for having premarital sex as Lily thought she would, but rather comforted her daughter and reassured her. “If James is a half-decent person, he will tell her that you did nothing wrong, and she won’t be mad at you, Lily dear.”

Her mother's reassurance helped, but her rose bush of worry wouldn’t be clear of its thorns until she spoke with you.

*

'Cause you were never mine

*

When the break was over, and Lily was about to board the train station to the red engine that is the Hogwarts Express, someone was waiting for her at the door to the train.

“My train doesn’t arrive until later,” you say plainly. “I wanted to get here earlier though, to speak with you.”

Lily feels like she’s breaking out in hives under your eyes, and it’s not a good feeling.

“James told me about how you didn’t know about me, how you wanted him to tell me sooner, didn’t want me to find out from tabloids like you did.” You smiled at her.

“It really hurt me when I found out. I didn’t want you to feel that way, but you still deserved to know. I’m just sorry you found out like that anyway.”

“James already boarded the train, but I wanted to let you know we’re no longer together if you still wanted to be with him,” you said meekly.

Lily’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Godric, no! He’s a git.”

You laughed.

“I know we may not be able to be friends, but maybe it’ll be better if we work through all of this together, all three of us,” Lily proposed.

“Yes, individually, dually, all together, doesn’t matter, it needs to be resolved.”

Lily sighed a breath of relief. “Somehow, I feel lighter.”

“Me too.”

As Lily was about to board the train, you called out to her. “Lily!”

She whipped her head to face you. “We can be friends if you’d like, you know.”

That made Lily smile, and honestly, it made her heart bloom with a vague, but familiar feeling.

[itsmymeaningoflife]

Wanna hear your bullshit hehe

Hehe you asked for it. I’m gonna drop bullshit from the first half of s3 here:

- They really chose a 12 yo boy over grown women to raid the house wtf

- Carl’s crush on Beth is fucking adorable

- “While the others wash their panties let’s go hunt” Daryl darling you need to scrub your ass too

- Rick might have been a bit of a control freak in this era but at least he’s putting himself on the line over the others

- Carol almost shooting Rick bit being totally unbothered by it is hilarious

- Noticed that Daryl always keeps his distance but is always following Carol

- BACK RUB SCENE. Daryl providing physical contact and low-key also surprising himself with it is so adorable. The flirting, the innuendos *chef kiss*

- Daryl and Carol have a healthier relationship than Rick and Lori at this point. And they DEFFO sleep next to each other around the fire every night they were in the road

- The prisoners were wasted tbf. I wish they kept Oscar around as part of the main group for a few seasons. He could’ve shown the audience that not all people in prison are evil.

- Daryls obsession with not sleeping in a cage is deffo routed in trauma. He probs got locked in places as a kid

- Beths unflinching optimism / naive outlook is so pure and I love her. Damn 14 year old me for hating her

- “Not for one second do I think you have malice in your heart” YES LORI IF THAT DOESNT SUM UP RICK GRIMES IDDK WHAT DOES

- Twd really said “wow maybe we need more POC in our cast” and while they had the right sentiment they probably shouldn’t have made them all prisoners either :///

- Also Daryl taking the lead with the prisoners and being the main one to talk to them / reason with them despite Rick being a police officer is great. Give me a fic where Daryl is a youth worker

- Beth putting Carl in his place when he goes off at Lori is strong woman supporting strong woman energy

- Loris death scene makes me sob. Maggie is a real trooper in this scene too.

- Omg Daryl when he finds Carols bloody scarf and think she’s dead after they see T dogs body. He’s heartbroken that he thinks he’s lost one of his only genuine friends.

- Rick finding out Lori is dead is heartbreaking but I’ve seen too many memes of that scene to not laugh.

- Rick goes insane and Daryl immediately steps up. “Nope we’re not losing another one. Not her.” Organising a run. Pulling Beth aside to tell her to watch over Carl. We really see his leadership jump out real early.

- If Maggie wasn’t in a relationship with Glenn from the get go people would’ve shipped her with both Rick and Daryl

- Daryl seeing the “sofie” hand hurts. He really thought he was going to be the one to bring Sophia back. He believed she was alive

- DARYL WITH BABY JUDITh calling her ass kicker and sweetheart… bro my heart can’t take it. Also interesting when Carl suggests names he chooses Sofia and Carol first and the camera is focused on Daryls face.

- Daryl visiting carols grave at sunset and gently placing a Cherokee rose down and tenderly touching the cross is enough to make a grown man cry. He is deffo confused with what his feelings are and why he’s so upset that she’s gone here

- Daryl telling Carl how he was allowed to play out with other neighbourhood kids when Merle was gone and they chased a fire engine on their bikes and it ended up going to his house and his mom was dead / burnt down. Heart breaking. Trauma bonding over dead moms

- Give Daryl a child 2020 (jokes in s10 HES a chaotic sigle dad of 3)

- Daryl finding Carol knife HURTS. His voice is so wobbly and he’s so angry and he keeps the knife and he sits stabbing at the floor working himslef up to put her down. THEN HE FINDS HER ALIVE AND HOLDS HER CHIN AND CARRIED HER BACK HES A HERO

- Michonne and Rick locking eyes murderouly through the fences like damn what a way to kick start a romance

- Carl was the first to help Michonne my heart. And the way Rick hauls her over his shoulder with ease BRO… then he pours water over her boobs? Not sure why but hey I don’t question true love

- Daryl is so dramatic “hey Rick, come in here” “everything alright??” “You’re gonna want to see this” *leads everyone to carol*. He couldn’t just tell them he found her alive. I love his dramatic ass

- RICK AND CAROLS FRIENDSHIP IS everything. Also I’ll forever be salty about how we never got more of carols reaction to loris death

- Daryl calling Carol a POOR THING when he explains to everyone. Sir you are tender

- Michonne calling Maggie “the pretty girl” then one breath later calls the govener “pretty boy” is massive bi wife energy

- Rick and Daryl threatening Michonne like they won’t be tripping over themselves to lay down their life for her come season 9

- I fucking hate Merle so much. But he can’t comprehend that the group will be there to save them. He just doesn’t understand how to care for other people

- Daryl and Oscar could’ve been great friends

- Rick leaving 12 year old Carl in charge of the prison A* parenting

- Milton is the token chaotic gay scientist of twd change my mind

- The governor can rot in hell for what he did to Maggie I hate him

- Daryl sees a dead dog and makes a lassie joke? I’m sorry but this man is so funny

- Maggie said “men always have been and always will be trash”

- Axel being sleazy around Beth after Beth tells him she’s 17 and Carol immediately swooping in to protect her is PEAK MOMMA BEAR ENERGY.

- Okay but their heist to get glenn and Maggie back was elite

- The conflict on Daryls face when he realises Merle is around and his deperate voice when he’s asking Rick if he can go find him hurts my HEART

- RICK TELLING DARYL “I need you. Are you with me?” And Daryls soft “yeah” voice THAT IS THE MOMENT DARYL REALISED HE WAS APPRECIATED.

- OSCAR DESERVED BETTER. RIP KING

- Carl and beths friendship is underrated.

- Gov really thinks penny is still in there huh

- Everyone referring to Carl as “the man” is hilarious but also so concerning

- I forget how on odds Rick and Michonne were at the beginning. The original enemies to lovers

[tsarisfanfiction]

Libel (Part 2)

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: John, Scott, Grandma, Tracy Family

Day 6 “touch and go” for @whumptober-archive and for the prompt bruises my muses decided to add on to my day 3 chapter, so have a rather displeased John.  I’m not expecting this one to go any further, but then again I wasn’t expecting to add onto it at all, so who knows what’ll happen the rest of this month.

<<< Part 1

Grandma was waiting for them when they got home, the smell of something heavenly and clearly take-out wafting through the front door as it opened, and John felt a flash of guilt for forgetting to warn her about Scott’s physical condition when her mouth parted slightly in clear shock.

Scott’s weight had increased against him slowly but steadily as they’d finished the trek home, until his head was resting against John’s and his arm hung awkwardly around his shoulder. His eyes were rimmed with an angry red, and salted tear tracks cut down across the blossoming bruises.  One eye, in addition to the tell-tale sign of crying, was swelling shut with a purple-black mark blooming around it, but while that was the worst mark on his face, there was barely any untouched skin. The exposed arms were also littered with colour, including vibrant handprints that told a story all of their own.

John was certain that Scott’s t-shirt was concealing more.

“What happened?” Grandma demanded after a moment, swooping in and gingerly cupping Scott’s face in her hands.  His brother’s messenger bag dropped to the floor, and John let his own do the same without ever relinquishing his grip around Scott’s waist.  Scott was clearly feeling the emotional damage more than the physical, but that didn’t mean that the physical didn’t promise pain in his brother’s future.

The weight against him increased again as Scott sagged at the question.  John couldn’t see his face very well from his angle, but considering how wrecked his big brother was about the whole thing – and understandably so, in John’s furious opinion – he couldn’t envisage him repeating the tale again.

“Bullies,” he said shortly, enough to give an answer without tormenting Scott further by retelling the whole thing in his earshot.  At some point the rest of the family needed to know that Scott and Christie were no longer together – preferably before one of them made an innocent comment – but he wasn’t going to dredge that up in Scott’s vicinity.

In his pocket, Scott’s phone hadn’t stopped vibrating with incoming messages.  If they were all along the same vein as the ones John had seen initially, he was very glad he’d decided to, for all intents and purposes, confiscate his big brother’s phone.  He’d probably need to change his number before it was safe to give it back.

“Terrible children,” Grandma muttered beneath her breath, before slowly stepping back and letting her hands reluctantly part with Scott’s face.  “Your dinner’s in the kitchen and your brothers are upstairs in bed.”  Had they stayed out that late?  “Alan’s sharing with Virgil and Gordon tonight so you two don’t need to worry about him.”  That was a relief – John loved Alan, and neither he nor Scott minded sharing a bedroom with the youngest, but tonight the last thing Scott needed was Alan’s innocent blue eyes forcing him to struggle to hold himself together.

Dinner sounded – and smelled – inviting.  Grandma had taken his warning text seriously and gone straight for Scott’s favourites, from the smell of it.  It was definitely a pleasant surprise in John’s book, and he hoped that Scott was up for trying to stomach at least some of the comfort food.  If nothing else, the apple pie, whose cinnamon-tinted scent was wafting through invitingly, should entice his brother in.

Scott hadn’t said a word since choking out what had to be an extremely brief summary of events, and his silence continued as he kicked off his sneakers – still not separating from John for a single moment.

It was familiar behaviour;going to a brother for comfort when the world went mad was a common tactic, but the brother they all went to was Scott.  He was never the one seeking comfort – that is, until now, and John couldn’t blame him in the slightest, so he stayed close and kept one arm around his brother without saying anything, hoping that it would help Scott as much as Scott’s presence always helped him.

“Get some food in your stomachs,” Grandma instructed.  “Scott, have you taken any painkillers?”

Hair rustled in John’s ear as Scott shook his head.  He still didn’t say a word and John rubbed his back gently.

“I’ll get you some,” she said, ushering them through the kitchen door.  “Once you’ve eaten, Scott, I want you to take a hot bath.”  She didn’t wait for a response before disappearing, leaving John to guide his brother over to the table, where Scott’s favourite burger waited.

To his relief, Scott didn’t need any convincing to eat, although the way he mechanically took each bite told John that he wasn’t really tasting it.  The apple pie went down a little better – while Scott still didn’t speak, or smile, his mouthfuls seemed to be a little more organic, and irregularly frequent.  John ate his own in equal silence, aware of the still-vibrating phone in his pocket but refusing to check the messages while Scott was next to him.

Grandma reappeared with Tylenol and a cold compress as Scott sipped at the soda, both of which were gratefully received, even if Scott’s reaction remained unusually muted.  Still, he finished his meal, accepted the painkillers without a fuss, and let Grandma press the compress gently over his swollen-shut eye, which was as much as John could ask, given the situation.

All the while, Scott stayed in physical contact with him, leaning in and seemingly trusting John to hold him up so he didn’t fall to the floor.  It felt rather like a metaphor, so when Grandma eased the compress back again several minutes later and nudged Scott towards the bathroom where she promised a nice, warm bath was waiting for him he didn’t hesitate to escort him.

The door clicked shut behind them and Scott sank onto the tiled floor, wrapping his arms around his knees. John settled down beside him and put his arm around him again, letting his brother lean in to the touch.  Silence continued to reign.

Outside the room, he could hear the running feet of several brothers – probably all of them – and the subsequent scolding for running in the house, followed by a reminder that they should be in bed and that they’d see their eldest brothers in the morning. John would be very surprised if no black or blond heads poked into his and Scott’s room during the night.  Dad was moving around, apparently finally appearing from his office for food, and John heard the outraged outburst as Grandma no doubt told him about Scott.

At least John could be confident that Scott wouldn’t be allowed into school tomorrow – with both Grandma and Dad on the warpath, his brother would be kept safely at home, likely not doing any work at all, although he might poke at some of his preferred subjects.

Speaking of his brother, Scott was showing no signs of getting in the water.  John nudged him gently.  “It’s going to get cold,” he prompted.  “Do you want me to leave?”

His brother groaned lightly, but straightened enough to yank at his top.  John shifted out of the way as the fabric came off over messy brown hair, and did his best not to let his reaction show on his face.

As suspected, Scott’s torso was awful.  Bruises littered the skin, the fabric doing almost nothing to protect it from the blows it had taken, leaving it a rainbow of red hues.  One in particular caught John’s attention – a large, darker area that sprawled across one side as though it’d been hit multiple times in quick succession. It took him a moment to yank his eyes away, shifting his entire body until Scott was out of view, and not turning back until water splashed and then stilled again.

Only his brother’s head and shoulders were visible over the edge of the bath, complete with one arm hanging over the side, fingertips just brushing the cool tiles of the floor. The heat of the water was rapidly adding even more pink to Scott’s skin, as though it needed it when there were enough broken blood vessels below his brother’s skin to change the hue all by themselves.  Even with the painkillers Grandma had bestowed, John knew Scott was in for a sleepless night.

Then again, the heartbreak probably hurt more than everything else put together.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked again, already gathering his legs underneath himself in preparation.

“No,” Scott rasped, the first word he’d spoken since returning home.  His voice sounded scraped raw and weak, and John obediently settled back down again.  “Please.”

John was going to destroy everyone who had a hand in reducing his big brother to this.  There would be no mercy, and a large number of them were obligingly making his life much easier by blowing up Scott’s phone with messages his brother would never see hide nor hair of.

“Okay,” he agreed, settling his back against the toilet and shifting around until it was halfway comfortable. From that angle, Scott couldn’t see anything that might be on a phone screen, so while his big brother soaked in an attempt to ease the bruising, John got to work.

First was a message to Grandma from his own phone, giving her the basic rundown of events.  She didn’t reply, but she did leave him on read, so he knew she had seen it.

There was no doubt in John’s mind that she would do everything in her considerable influence and power to make sure Scott didn’t have to go in to school again, or at least until it all blew over.  His big brother was in good hands.

Still, John was not about to let things lie himself, either.  Scott’s phone was a veritable goldmine of information, and while there was little John could do without his laptop, he could at least take note of the names sending threats and begin to scheme how he was going to get revenge.

No one hurt his brother and got away with it.

Quiet sobs that started up after a while, muffled in a way that sounded like Scott had a hand or arm over his mouth.  John reached out for the dangling arm and tangled his fingers lightly with Scott’s even as he scoured his way through the social media of Christie’s two brothers, looking for the most damaging place to hit them back.  If he played it right, he could ruin their football aspirations with a neat black mark on their record.

Oh, he understood why they’d reacted the way they had – if he’d gone to Scott and said someone had hurt him, there was no way Scott wouldn’t have launched himself straight into the situation entirely on his side.  That didn’t mean John was going to spare them from retribution; he wasn’t that benevolent.

Christie herself he left for the moment.  If he was going to hurt everyone who had hurt Scott, he was going to destroy the girl behind it all in the first place, and that would require his full attention. It would be most efficient to eliminate everyone else involved first.

From the state of Scott’s phone, it was a long list of targets, but John was nothing if not thorough as he sifted through the hateful messages.

Some of them were truly vile, and there were threats in there that made John feel sick just thinking about them.  He set those aside to show Grandma; some things needed an adult’s intervention to handle effectively, and he was certain that some of the threats were jail-worthy if acted upon.

Scott had barely moved since getting into the bath, and John wondered if he was falling asleep in the pleasant warmth.  Part of him hoped so; it was much better than wallowing in negative thoughts, especially ones he didn’t deserve.  He squeezed his brother’s fingers lightly and was rewarded with a twitch in return.

His brother still didn’t talk.  Not when he stopped crying again, wiping away tears with a wet arm.  Not when Grandma lightly knocked on the door to suggest that they get ready for bed.  Not when he got out of the bath, either, skin pruned and wrinkly, and John averted his gaze so he didn’t see anything he didn’t want to as Scott slowly dried off.

Dad was waiting when they left the bathroom, Scott wrapped up snugly in his favourite pyjamas, and wordlessly folded Scott into a big, warm hug which his big brother sank into bonelessly.  John took the chance to slip away, finding Grandma downstairs and slipping her Scott’s phone.

She took one look at the first message on the screen and her face turned to granite.

“Neither of you are going to school tomorrow,” she told him.  John hadn’t expected to be included in that, but it was clear there was no arguing.  It worked in his favour anyway; vengeance would be easier to enact using his laptop without the prying eyes of hovering classmates.  “And whatever you’re planning, John, don’t get caught.”

She followed him back up the stairs.  Dad and Scott had migrated into their bedroom and John took the chance to get into his own pyjamas – although sleep wasn’t on his agenda just yet – before going to join them.

A door creeping open as he passed caught his attention and he paused to see three pairs of worried eyes peering out.

“Is Scott okay?”  Alan was the one that spoke, not yet aware of the nuances of the indoor voice, but making a good go at whispering regardless.  John could see the question reflected in two pairs of brown eyes as well and sighed, shoulders slumping.

“He broke up with Christie,” he explained, keeping his own voice low enough that there was no way the brother in question would be able to hear from down the hall.  It was Virgil’s eyes he met, knowing that he was the only one old enough to comprehend what his next words would mean.  “It was a bad breakup.”  Sure enough, chestnut brown eyes widened.

“But is he okay?” Gordon asked, frowning, and John swallowed, not wanting to lie, but not wanting them to worry, either.

He settled on shrugging.  “He will be.”  I hope.

They surged forwards, apparently taking that as an invitation to go see him, and John had to plant himself firmly in the doorway to stop them. There was no way Scott would want them to see him in his current state.

“Tomorrow,” he said, somewhat sharply.  “He needs space right now.”

They grumbled malcontentedly, but he stood firm, pulling upon his rarely used big brother clout to get them to obey until the door closed again.

In all likelihood, they’d be sneaking in later, but hopefully Scott would be less visibly distraught by then.

John padded into his bedroom and headed straight for his bed.  Dad was sitting with Scott on his brother’s bed, arms firmly around him and one hand running through his hair as he sobbed. From the way he was slumped, and the weakness of the sobs, Scott was on the cusp of sleep.  John wasn’t naïve enough to think that he’d sleep all through the night, not with all those bruises, but he’d gladly support any sleep Scott could get.

For his part, he pulled up his phone and continued scrolling through the names of Scott’s year mates.  Most of them had left a message on his phone.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Dad cautioned suddenly and he jumped, checking the time to see it was much later than he’d realised.  Scott was neatly tucked into bed, the vision of a perfect slumber ruined by the tear tracks down his face.

“I won’t,” he shrugged, an acknowledgement but not a promise.  “Night, Dad.”

“Goodnight, John.”  He was pulled into a brief hug, kiss pressed against his brow, before Dad slipped out of the room, leaving him with his sleeping brother.

Armed with his laptop, phone, and the simmering fury kept at a boil by the sight of his battered brother, John got to work.

[deliciousangelfestival]

xWicked Romance : Chapter 4 : He’s cute.

Character : Mob!Steve Rogers x Retired Assassin Female Reader

Summary : Steve was hoping to meet the right one until he met her. But is he ready to be with her? He thought his life already dark because of his job. He wouldn’t able to find a woman that strong enough to face the hardship to stand beside him. Turn out his life is nothing compared to her. 

Warning : No smuts, since I don’t know how to write it. Peace y’all.

Steve woke up because he felt someone softly brushing his hair. He opened his eyes, finding her hand stopped. Both of them are lying on his bed.

Her head still laying on his arm, he move her body closer to feel her warmth. He bury his head into the crook of her neck and mumbled "Don't stop."

“That’s a nice way to wake me up.” His voice sounded deeper and raspy. 

(Y/N) chuckled softly when she heard his voice. “You’re too excited last night.”

She suddenly turned her body and jumped off the bed. 

“Where are you going?” Steve was surprised that she's easily escape from his arms.

“Stay there; I’ll be back.”

When she left the room, Steve noticed she was wearing his shirt and boxer. 

The smell of bacon and pancakes made him look at his door. She came in, bringing a tray filled with food, a glass of water, egg, bacon, pancake, and coffee. It's been a while since he had breakfast in his own house. 

Steve is confused if today is his birthday or not? He never got pampered like this. Usually, it was him the one who did this kind of thing. Not the other way around. 

He sat up, the blanket only covering his waist this time. (Y/N) gently put the food tray on his lap. She saw Steve had a confused expression on his face.

“You need a big breakfast to start your day.” (Y/N) said.

“How did you manage to do all of this?” Steve asked after he finished drinking water. 

“Because I woke up too early. I made breakfast for both of us.” (Y/N) said, walking in with another tray of foods. She sat beside him and kissed his side lips. “You completely tired me out last night.”

Steve gave a loud laugh; he never could imagine a girl like (Y/N) not just brave but also good at cooking. He didn’t notice she was able to slip out from his arm. Because of his habit he got from the military, Steve could get awake so easily even with a small voice and movement.

Both of them enjoy their breakfast together, a few dirty jokes there but not much since it’s still early in the morning. After that, they have another hot session in the bathroom. (snu snu time.)

The time they spent together (Y/N) told Steve he is free to ask anything from her. She’s pretty sure if she tells him everything about how she grows up, he wouldn’t believe any word that came out of her mouth. 

Steve doesn’t mind it; he prefers her life to be mysterious. She never failed to give him a surprise. He likes her spontaneity. Perhaps some day she could give him a heart attack. 

While they put on their clothes (Y/N) phone vibrates with a pop message from Peter saying he’s downstairs to pick her up. 

“Do you have to go?” 

Steve felt the time was not enough when she told him that she needed to go. 

“Come on, just stay a bit more,” Steve asked her with a pleading tone. He holds her wrist when she is ready to go out. (Y/N) saw his puppy eyes couldn’t help blurting out, “So cute.” 

Steve get worried; no one would dare to call him the mafia boss cute. At the moment, he questioned his masculinity. In which part she saw him cute. 

“I have too.” Her finger caressed his cheeks and touched his beard. “Let’s have dinner tonight. Okay?”

Steve answered, “Alright, see you tonight.” Before he released her, he gave a surprise kiss on her lips. 

With hazy eyes, he pulls away while (Y/N) is still shocked with the kissed “Wow.”

Steve chuckled and winked at her. “That’s a sneak peek for tonight.”

(Y/N) smiled, she doesn’t want to light a fire from Steve. She closed the door and left the house. 

When she walked out, (Y/N) saw two older couples get out of a car. She knew who it was. They are Steve’s mother, Sarah Rogers, and the former mafia boss Joseph Rogers. 

She looks at them as a couple; they look lovely together. But (Y/N) noticed when Sarah looked at her, she became a scary mother in law like on the TV. 

Sarah walk like a lady and stop infront of her. She told (Y/N), “Listen carefully. Regardless of what happens between you two. I can’t accept you. I know you are different from any other woman. Even if you can stop Brock with just one bullet, I’m not going to let some girl use my son again.” 

After she said her words, Sarah turned and left (Y/N) alone while Joseph finally followed her. 

Sarah walks too fast; she turns and talks to her husband, “Is she still looking?”

Joseph glanced through his shoulder “Yeah, and she’s waving at us.”

Sarah was bewildered. “What kind of woman Steve got into this time?” She thought the woman would get angry, but it turned out she’s still there and waved at them. 

“First, it’s a C.I.A then a journalist. Now what?” Sarah sighed. 

Joseph also feels the same way as his wife. Their son picks a girl that always reveals their business. It’s pretty funny seeing his wife getting so worked up. 

“Alright, don’t get mad. Let’s meet our son.” Joseph hugged his wife's shoulder. 

When the bell rang, Steve hoped it's (Y/N) the one who stands in front of his door. He didn’t even check the monitor; he quickly opened the door. 

"You're back…." Steve didn’t even finish his speech. His smile dropped when he saw his parents.

"Stevie." Sarah hugs him. 

"Mom? Dad? What are you- AHHH!!!” 

Steve hissed when his mother pinched his chest. He looked at his father with a look of ‘What’s all that about?’

Joseph answered, “We met her when we arrived.”

Steve finally understands why his mother became moody this morning. 

“I can see why you like her. She seems different.” Joseph whispered at his son while Steve nodded all the time. 

Sarah suddenly jumped in. “Are you sure she’s good for you? What’s her job? Please don’t tell me she’s a lawyer or a judge?”

Steve patted her back to calm her down. “Mom, calm down; I’m not dating from that side this time. She’s an analyst in automotive for a private company.”

“Ooh, that explains the nice car,” Joseph murmured. Sarah glared at her husband. 

“I hope you don’t get a heartbreak this time.” Sarah felt pity towards her son, Steve could be scary when he’s mad, but when he’s sad, he looks like a golden retriever puppy. 

He understands why his mother asked him this cause she saw how broken he was when his relationship ended with Peggy. 

####

From day one, they have obstacles because of their jobs. Peggy stands to abide by the law while he already saw how corrupt and hypocritical the government is. He saw his comrade die for nothing. 

His world almost crumbled when he found out that Peggy was ready to put his family into jail. And the most hurtful thing is that she did that to get a promotion. 

'What am I to you?' He asked her this question. She was unable to give him the answer.  

####

But behind the thunder, there’s a rainbow; his mother, Sarah, she used to not give a damn about what Steve and her husband did in mobster stuff. When she found out her son got used, she went livid. 

She told her son to make them regret treating him like that. Sarah knows her son is a mobster, his life is always related to dark stuff, but he always makes sure to treat his own woman like a queen. 

And right now, he knew he moved too fast with (Y/N), but he felt like she shares the same value with him. 

.

.

.

In the afternoon, Steve is in the car with Sam and Bucky. They’re heading to the hospital right now. 

Steve was looking at the window; he could see his reflection. He suddenly remembered what (Y/N) said in the morning, “Guys.”

Bucky and Sam ‘Hmmm’ at the same time.

“Do I look cute?”

Sam stops the car abruptly. Suddenly everything became silent. While Bucky cursed, “What the f#%* Steve?”

“Alright, the answer is pretty clear.” Steve scoffed, he doesn’t want to continue; their reaction is enough for him. 

Sam and Bucky are confused because their friend just asks them nonsense questions. 

“Well, we have arrived,” Sam said; he looked at Bucky. “You follow him; I will stay here. Make sure he doesn't get plastic surgery.”

Steve rolled his eyes and got out of the car with Bucky. 

“Is she the one who said you’re cute?”

Steve nodded.

“Hmm, you completely whipped. Well Steve, I completely understand,” Bucky tells him they’re in the same position since he’s with Natasha. 

Both of them stopped at the V.I.P patient room. They saw two bodyguards standing in front of the door. The bodyguard steps away when Steve approaches them. One of the bodyguards opened the door for him. 

Steve turns to Bucky. “Wait here.”

“Sure.”

Steve walked into the room; he thought Brock still fainted. It turns out he’s awake and eating. 

Brock was wearing a neck brace, his two legs wrapped in a cast, his left arm also wrapped in a cast, and his elbow fractured. 

Brock lifted his head when he saw Steve. He clicked his tongue. 

“Your girlfriend almost killed me.”’

“Huh?” Steve responded. 

Steve didn’t know that (Y/N) visited Brock before him. 

####

What happened 4 hours ago 

It was Peter who picked up (Y/N) at Steve’s place with her car.

She gets into the car and puts on her seatbelt. “Let’s go back to my apartment first; I need to change my clothes. I have to meet someone later.”

“Who?”

“A friend, he got into an accident last night.”

“Hmm.”

When they arrived at her place, Peter asked, “Let me guess your sick friend is Brock?”

“Yes.”

Peter shook his head. “Poor guy.”

.

.

At the hospital.

Brock is feeling drowsy because of the painkiller. Because of the car crash, his neck got the impact. 

He saw a shadow figure in front of him, “You!!!”

“Good afternoon Rumlow.”

“Hmph!!!” Brock wants to strangle her; he remembered her from last night. 

(Y/N) walked closer to his infusion bottle; she took out something from her pocket. 

“Wha--”

“You see, Rumlow, I kinda like Steve, but the Tom & Jerry fight between you and him has to stop. I don’t want you to appear and ruined the romantic moment like last night.”

Brock finally could see what she’s holding in her hand. (Y/N) notices he is looking at the syringe that she has.

“What inside this syringe could put you to sleep forever. You know what I’m capable of, right?”

Brock cursed, “#$%^*!!!”

(Y/N) nodded. “Correct, so if you still want to leave, just stay 1 million km from us, okay?”

Brock defeatedly answered, “Okay.”

“Great, go back to rest.” She opens the cap of the syringe and injects it into his infusion bottle.

“Bi*$#!!”

“Relax, it’s just another painkiller for you.” After she said that, Brock eventually fell asleep. 

When he woke up, his bodyguard gave him a food container with a small note 'I'm sorry, she’s pretty scary.'

####

Back to the present

“Really?” Steve was astounded.

“Your new girl is crazy.” Brock clicked his tongue. He can’t imagine having a girlfriend like (Y/N).

In Steve’s mind, her threat towards Brock is nothing. His heart fluttered when he knew what she did for him. Never in his life, a woman would threaten his rival for him. He never get spoiled like this. 

Steve chuckled; he got up from the chair and mumbled on the way out of the hospital ward, remembering what (Y/N) had done for him “My cute devil.”

He finds it cute, though; he never had a brave enough girlfriend to threaten his rival. He used to be the one who protects his girl. 

Steve wants to meet her again; lucky for him, she texts him first and gives her location. 

.

.

.

Steve arrived at the high-end restaurant that, even for him, it’s difficult to book a table. She won’t stop giving him a surprise. He saw her wearing a dress that fitted her figure. She looked beautiful and confident.  

“(Y/N).”

(Y/N) raised her face gently, the corner of her lips moving upward when she saw him. 

Steve felt like he could drown in it. Both of them had dinner together. While they’re eating, he needs to say something important to her. They were having wine when he grasps her hand. It made her look at him. 

He has to say it to give her the chance to walk away “(Y/N); I like you. I feel a connection between us. But being with me means sometimes you will be facing unexpected things. I know you are strong, but I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

She tilted her head a little and looked at Steve in front of her. She pinched his chin lightly. “Steve, I don’t care how many enemies you have.”

“I will kill them one by one.” 

She wasn’t saying a flirty line towards him instead of a deadly one. Everyone said she’s scary, but for him, she’s a great blessing in his life. 

“You know that I’m capable. I don’t mind working as your partner. Not just as your girlfriend.”

‘Thump!’ Steve's heart fluttered when he heard that word.

“Girlfriend?” 

“You don’t want to?” (Y/N) raised her eyebrows. 

Steve quickly answered, “Please be my girlfriend.” It would be crazy to decline it; he wants to show the world that she belongs to him. He’s afraid if he’s too late, she will slip away from his finger. To put it more plainly, Steve may not have met another woman like (Y/N). 

A/N: Thank you for the likes and reblogged my post. 

To my followers and people who liked my post, I hope you don’t mind if I tag your name:

Tag:

@samwinter09

@colorfulpeachpurseghost

@marce170018

@stepheewdgirlie

@juliealma1

@valhalla-kristin

@fivebefore21

@iloveshawnieboi

@sarahbellesaurus

@kesyakesh

@xkarmenvlx

@jemimah-b99

[official-weasley]

Godparents - (The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley AU)

Warnings: absolutely nothing

Word count: 3,076

Characters: Charlie Weasley and my OC Nova from TICW which you can find here

Charlie

“Okay, Dee-Dee, remember, we have to triple the ingredients today because a lot of people are coming.” My brother warned my firstborn.

“I know, uncle Georgie.” Aoede glared at him.

“Okay, can I trust you with the measurements while I talk to your dad?”

“Of course. I know how to make cookies.” Aoede turned to look for the flour the second George walked to me.

“Do you remember when I was uncle Geogie?” George sighs. “She is growing up so fast!”

“And so is her attitude.” I chuckled. “What, that?” George shrugged his shoulders, looking at his niece. “She just takes making cookies very seriously.”

“I know and I know you miss her calling you Geogie, but she is five and a half now and a lot of names suddenly changed when she learned how to say R.” I laughed, reminiscing when Tiger's name went from Tigel to Tigerrrr.

“Yeah, I mean Luna Dora said her first word a few days ago so perhaps I have a chance to be Geogie again.” George's eyes shone.

“Don't remind me.” I groaned. “And since she is giving everyone nicknames already you will probably get one soon enough.”

“Are you still grumpy about her first words?” George laughed out loud.

“No!”

“Yes, you are, Charlie! I can't believe it.” George couldn't stop laughing.

Luna Dora said her first word last week and as much as I was proud of it that much I couldn't help that her first word would be something else.

I was luckier with her than with Aoede and I didn't miss any firsts with her. I was changing her diaper when she smiled for the first time and I was there when Nova put her down on the sofa and she sat by herself. Nova was the one who missed the first crawl this time and we both got to see Luna Dora rollover. She is already walking if someone is holding both of her hands and I am planning to be there for the moment of her walking for the first time too. That was the only first I got to experience with Aoede and I promised myself that I am not missing anything else.

I still remember when Aoede said her first word. We were having breakfast and Nova was feeding her some apple sauce and for some reason every time we started talking, Aoede started to laugh and we couldn't help but join her and because Nova forgot for a split second to feed her, Aoede kindly reminded her that she is still hungry and said ma-ma.

As much as I was overwhelmed by her saying her first word, I was a bit down that she didn't call me first. Of course, I was expecting it – Nova being at home with her while I was working – it was only reasonable and the first word usually ends up being mama so I didn't stay down for long.

Nova said that since we are planning to have 2 more kids I have 2 more chances to be called first so that cheered me up a bit.

Aoede was about a year and 3 months old when she started saying her first words so it came as a surprise to the both of us when Luna Dora started showing signs of speaking with mumbling a few weeks ago – meaning before her first birthday which is today – so since I was around more I got my hopes up.

I had to fight the urge to tell Luna Dora to say the word dad or dada since Nova and I said even before we had Aoede that we will never press or push them to do anything, so we waited patiently for what she will say to us.

Luna Dora first surprised us when she was born and she came out with blue hair. The next thing was how fast her magic started to show by the baby powder and Aoede's toys flying around when we were changing her. Somehow, though, we haven't learned that she is full of surprises so when we were watching the telly and she started to make bubbles nobody expected her to say her first word let alone for it to be her sister's name.

First, she mumbled something, so we turned the volume down to encourage her to speak by talking to her. Nova was bouncing her on her legs, making Luna Dora laugh while she was watching her sister play with glitter and her unicorn plushie. I invited Aoede to join our little laughing party and as I called her name, Luna Dora started laughing uncontrollably and because Nova found it funny, she kept repeating the name of our firstborn.

Aoede was almost as confused as I was about what was going on but since Luna Dora's giggles filled the whole lower floor of the house, we started laughing as well. Aoede started repeating her name and in the midst of us having the best time as a family, Luna Dora spoke for the first time, calling her sister Dee-Dee.

The second the name came out of her mouth we all stopped and looked at the blue-haired girl who kept repeating the name and extended her arms to Aoede to hold her.

The second Nova noticed she had her mouth open and closed it, she glanced at me to see my reaction. I was as shocked as much as she was since we didn't think Luna Dora would actually say anything.

Without asking me how I feel about her first words, Nova said that perhaps she meant to say dada or that that is her version of it but Aoede was quick to point out that Luna Dora was saying the word while trying to get Aoede to hold her.

Aoede needed a minute to compose herself and realize what just happened, before clearing her throat and picking her little sister up, and taking her to her toys. The more Aoede talked to her, the more Luna Dora started to repeat her name and the whole situation was so cute that I completely forgot about my wish to be Luna Dora's first word.

That night, when the giggles stopped and we put our daughters to sleep, we knew that Aoede officially got herself a nickname. Nova was so excited about it that she sent letters to the entire family the next morning, and now, even though not even a week later, nobody is using Aoede's full name and she is doing nothing but being very proud about it.

“I am not grumpy about it.” I scoffed.

“Whatever, it's sweet that Luna Dora said Aoede's name first, admit it,” George said with a smug face.

“It's adorable but the wish is still there. You'll see when you'll be a dad.” I tried defending myself.

“I don't know if that is happening for me, Charlie.” George sighed.

“Oh, don't be so pessimistic. You still have time.” I tapped his back. “What happened between you and Angelina, didn't you say that your date went well?”

“It did. But she went to the Yule Ball with Fred and they went on a few dates so it's a bit weird that I'm dating her now.” George avoided looking me in the eyes.

“Yeah, but they weren't that serious, were they?”

“Not really but it's still strange.” George looked at me with pleading eyes as if waiting for my advice.

“Listen, you came to the wrong older brother for relationship advice.” I felt the heat on my cheeks.

“But you're married and have 2 kids. That's pretty successful if you ask me.” George wiggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah, well, I married my best friend. I was lucky. Besides the drama with McNully, I don't even know what heartbreak feels like.”

“You're right. You are kind of useless in that department.” George chuckled.

“In what department?” We both turned around when we heard Bill behind us.

“Uncle George!” Aoede called from the kitchen.

“Well, duty calls. Hi, Bill.” George waved at his eldest brother and walked to the kitchen.

“What department?” Bill asked again as he sat down next to me at the kitchen table.

“I think you need to talk to George about girls.” I sniggered.

“At this age?” Bill raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“He thinks he shouldn't date Angelina because of Fred.”

“Oh, that. What do you think about it?” Bill was curious.

“He clearly likes her a lot so why not. Fred and Angie weren't that serious anyway.” I shrugged.

“True.” Bill narrowed his eyes thinking. “I'll talk to him later.”

“Thanks and welcome to the birthday party by the way.” I chuckled, pointing to the living room where Nova was sitting on the floor with Luna Dora in her lap, conversing with Fleur who was holding Victoire.

“Thank you! Nova said to put Luna Dora's gift into the guest room.” Bill grinned.

“You didn't have to get her anything. She's one.”

“Hey, we bring toys to Aoede all the time, we are not planning to only pamper her.” Bill winked.

“You didn't buy her glitter did you?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “The bottle you got Aoede for her 5th birthday is still sprinkled everywhere around the house.”

“Are you expecting me to apologize? “ Bill tried hard not to laugh.

“I woke up the other day with Nova laughing at my face and she didn't want to tell me what was going on so it wasn't until I looked at myself in the mirror when I was washing my teeth that I saw that I had a few glitter pieces in the middle of my forehead. I have no idea how it got there – it's just everywhere!” I slammed my hand against my forehead.

“Yeah, glitter does do that.” Bill let out a silent laugh knowing full well I would glare at him if he dared to laugh more.

“Just wait until Victoire turns 5 and I'll get my revenge!”

“Don't you even dare!”

“Oh, you'll see,” I smirked. “And if you didn't get Luna Dora glitter I thank you for whatever you got for her.” I put my arm around his shoulder.

“You're welcome.” Bill smiled and turned to where George and Aoede were making cookies.

“Are they making a cookie cake?” Bill giggled.

“Nah, Olivia made the cake, and mum brought all sorts of things so they are just sticking to good old cookies.”

“Are any of the lot coming?” Bill asked.

“Penny and Tulip?”

“Yeah?”

“We thought about inviting them at first, but it's Luna's first birthday and she won't even remember it and they were here for Aoede's birthday party.”

“Yeah, true.” Bill scratched his nose. “Listen, speaking of kids. Fleur and I want to talk to you and Nova about something.”

“Did you grow tired of Victoire already and want to give her to us?” I joked.

“No! She is the best thing that ever happened to us,” Bill said with scarlet cheeks.

“I was teasing you, Bill. I know you are just as manly about being a dad as I was when Aoede was born.”

“Right.” He chuckled nervously.

“So you were saying?” I encouraged him to speak further.

“We want to talk...”

“Daddy! Come and look at my cookies!” Aoede shouted from the kitchen, interrupting Bill.

“Char, could you get Luna Dora ready for her birthday party and I'll go with Aoede to change her clothes?” Nova asked from the living room.

“Dad duty calls.” I grinned at my brother. “Can we talk about this after the party?”

“Sure. Yeah, even better.” Bill nodded and we both got up.

I hurried to the kitchen for Aoede to show me her cookies before George put them in the oven and then brought her to Nova who gave me Luna Dora so we could get our girls ready for the celebration.

—

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Luna, happy birthday to you.”

Mum, dad, Olivia, and George were sitting on the sofa, Bill and Fleur were on the floor with Victoire, I was holding Aoede who was eating a cookie and Nova held Luna Dora while we were singing to her.

We all knew that she had no idea what was going on but she was giggling constantly and that makes the birthday party good enough of a success for us.

Aoede and I helped blew the candles and Nova helped her mum cut the cake. Despite being very excited to blow the candles for the second time this year, Aoede declined the cake and asked George to accompany her to the kitchen to get a cookie.

Both Luna Dora and Victoire fell asleep soon after. Aoede wanted to show George her glitter collection because for some reason he was the only one of her uncles who didn't see it yet and my mum and dad decided to take a walk.

“Now that we're alone, do you think we could have that talk?” Bill whispered to me, as we were both observing Aoede making glitter fly everywhere. “Sure.” I nodded and turned to him and Fleur.

Nova sat down next to me just in time to join the conversation and Bill cleared his throat as I wrapped my arms around my wife.

“Why are you zo nervous, William?” Fleur chuckled when Bill scratched his nose for the third time.

“I am not!” Bill lifted his chin in defense.

“Should I ask zem?” Fleur raised her eyebrows.

“What is this about?” Nova whispered to me.

“I have no idea. I just know they want to ask us something.”

“Nova, Charlie, we want you to be Victoire's godparents,” Fleur said casually.

“That's what you were nervous for?” I raised my eyebrows at Bill.

“Well, I didn't know how you'd react given that you asked us first and we're Aoede godparents,” Bill mumbled.

“What do you mean how we would react? We would love to!” Nova exclaimed.

“So you don't mind zat we are godparents to each other's children? I mean, you're godparents to Teddy, and Penny and Andre's son Max. We don't want to ask too much of you.” Fleur pressed her lips together.

“I don't mind at all. Soon, I'll have my own little army.” Nova giggled.

“At this point, it does seem as if we're trying to have our own little kindergarten.” I joked.

“Army, Char. Army. We strike at dawn.” Nova laughed mischievously.

“So, is that a yes?”Bill asked as he stopped laughing at how silly Nova was. “Of course, it is!” Nova and I said together.

“We would be honored and truth be told, we kind of expected it.” I sniggered. “You did?” Fleur asked.

“Yeah, we see each other often and Victoire adores us,” I explained.

“We knew it was going to be you before she was even born,” Bill admitted.

“As I said. We will take the role gladly.” I smiled at both of them and pulled them both into a hug.

“That reminds me. Did you pick Luna Dora's godparents?” Bill asked. “We did, we just didn't ask yet,” Nova answered.

“Right. We forgot about that!” I gasped.

“Hey, George!” I called his name.

“Busy right now, Charlie.” George who was sitting as still as possible because Aoede was drawing on his arm slightly turned his head to us.

“It's okay. No need to move. We were just wondering if you'd be Luna Dora's godfather?” Nova asked gently.

“What?” I had to hand it to George for not moving even the slightest at the question.

We have been debating who to choose for Luna's guardians for months. We ended up deciding between Ron and George because it seemed that Luna Dora liked them the most when we went to visit or when they were here.

In the end, Nova came to the final decision saying that George adores Aoede so much and she loves spending time with him and there is no doubt in her mind that Luna wouldn't feel the same way and I had to agree with her that even though Ron would have loved the title, with everything that George went through and how much he loves to come and visit us, it would mean more to him.

See him shake from excitement but not move at the same time not to disturb our firstborn at her work, only proved to us more that we made the right decision and we're planning to have another child anyway, perhaps Ron will get his turn.

“I-I don't know what to say.” George tried looking at us despite facing in the other direction.

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” Nova said gently.

“Oh, no! I would love to. In my head, I am already calling myself godfather.” George sniggered. “It's just...I didn't expect this at all. Why choose me?”

“I thought that was obvious. The girls love you and you love spending time with them both.” I explained our decision.

“I do. They are the best!” He moved slightly as he tried to smile at us, receiving a glare from Aoede.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Did I ruin anything?” George apologized.

“No, I know how to fix it. Dad moves all the time.” Aoede sighed and frowned in concentration as she got back to work.

—

“Thank you for this.” George pulled me in the tightest embrace I have ever gotten from him as he was saying goodbye the next day.

“George, we told you that you're a perfect fit. You're great with kids.” I hugged him back.

“No, Charlie, I am serious. You have no idea how much this means to me.” He swallowed thickly as he finished speaking and as I pulled away I saw his eyes were filled with tears.

“I know, George. That's one of the reasons we chose you.” I whispered to him and pulled him in for another hug and smiled.

After a year and a half after the battle, George was doing much better and I knew he was going to be excited about being a godparent but seeing it mean so much to him simply warmed my heart, and any time that I could make one of my brothers excited and smile as George did right now, I felt as if I accomplished something great and there was nothing better besides having my own family than to make the ones back at home happy too.

[kpopmalereader]

dessert ; lee taeyong

• summary: taeyong meets your parents for the first time, and it doesn’t go so well • pairing: lee taeyong x male!reader • word count: 2094 • to do

You tap along the steering wheel. A song plays quietly on the radio, barely heard even in the silence of the car. You breathe out and shake the thousands of thoughts running through your head around. 

“Okay, I’m going to give you the run-down on some things.”

He watches you for a second, waiting for you to continue. He hopes for something to calm his nerves, but instead, you begin warning him of everything your mom may do to make his life more difficult.

“So, don’t serve yourself first. My mom is going to say you should get food, but you’re going to decline and smile that pretty smile, and then after everyone else gets food, we’re going to get some. And you don’t start eating until my dad takes the first bite.” You think over everything you’ve seen your dad disprove of or your mom mention after meeting one of your cousin’s spouses. “And there’s going to be a dish in front of you, and my mom will say she messed up the recipe or doesn’t like it and wants you to try it and you’re going to pretend it’s the best thing ever and even if you don’t like it much you need to get a second serving.”

Taeyong listens. He waits for you to continue speaking, watching your chest move up and down with your face, switching emotions every few words.

“And offer to help clean up but if she says no, don’t ask again, just nod and say you can help if she needs it. Then when dessert comes, get a slice of cake and compliment the icing and ask about the recipe so my sister can get some compliments.”

You continue to talk about things your parents and siblings will do. Taeyong stays quietly next to you. He’s trying to keep track of everything you say, but soon your words are blending together, and he’s left stranded in his thoughts.

You finally arrive in front of your parent’s house and park the car. “Was there anything else?”

You look at Taeyong for an answer. He looks at you. Lost in the situation at hand.

“It’ll be fine. They will… love you.”

“I hope so.” Taeyong smiles and pats your leg.

You flip down the vanity mirror and scan yourself. Taeyong straightens out his shirt. He waits for you to open your door but after a minute of waiting for it and it not happening, he broaches the silence and the halted breaths. He pats your shoulder and opens the passenger side door. He waves for you to follow him and walks three steps towards the door.

You groan and step out. Your shoulders are hunched forward, and you seem lost as you trudge past Taeyong. You take his hand as you walk and pull him along. He waits with more patience than you would have in front of the door, with your knuckles hovering over the center of it. You squeeze your eyes shut and rap your fingers against the frame before you back out of the meeting entirely.

Before the drive over, Taeyong was nervous. He spent hours getting ready, talking himself up even longer before that, and was prepared for you to tell him it would all be okay. Instead, when you arrived, he saw helplessness in your eyes, and the first words out of your mouth were of quitting. You’ve spent the entire day mumbling about what you hope your parents will do and how you want your sister to act and what Taeyong should do, and how you should act.

Your dad opens the door. You look similar, but your dad wears a stoic expression that would be foreign on your face. His eyes are bored as he looks over you. He doesn’t say anything and steps back, gesturing with his hand for you to come inside. You gulp and pull Taeyong in. Taeyong can see your father eyeing him up and down as he passes. He’s silently exhilarated that he’s on the opposite side of you.

Your dad points past you, into the kitchen, and you nod your head. You roll your shoulders back. You give yourself a moment before you walk into the kitchen. Your mom stands in front of the stove, mixing something in a large pot. She looks over at you and smiles.

It’s a weird smile that makes Taeyong uncomfortable. A scrutinizing and fake-happy smile even Taeyong can read through. She walks over and hugs you. Both of you are stiff with the movement. Your sister is flipping through a cookbook and barely looks up when you say hello. Your mom shoos you out of the kitchen and tells you to stay in the living room until the food is done.

Your dad is nowhere to be seen, which makes Taeyong nervous, but being able to hear the puttering of your mom and sister in the kitchen helps slightly. You hold Taeyong’s hand and fiddle with his fingers.

The dinner is completed soon after, and your sister silently beckons you into the dining room. You sit at the end of the table, with Taeyong next to you, but your mom shakes her head at you when she places the first dish down. You sigh and stand up, moving to sit across from Taeyong. He reaches forward with his foot, knocking his toes against the bottom of your shoe.

Your mom finishes placing all of the dishes on the table and finds the seat across from your dad. She slowly picks her napkin up and drapes it across her lap. Then, as if on cue, she asks Taeyong to serve himself first.

He politely declines and shakes his head when your mom offers it again. Your dad serves himself first, then your mother. Your sister doesn’t hesitate to grab a spoon before your mother is even finished. You help yourself next and nod for Taeyong. He serves himself and waits.

Your dad begins to eat, and the dinner continues in painful silence. Your mom takes a bite and watches Taeyong. She waits until nobody has food in their mouths and gestures to the dish in front of Taeyong.

“I think I may have added too much salt. Do you think you could taste it for me? Give me your honest opinion.”

You watch Taeyong with bated breath as he gives himself a serving and takes a bite. He hums approvingly and begins to compliment it. He serves himself more and continues to eat it, hoping his reaction didn’t seem as fake as it felt.

You tap on your thigh, looking straight down the entire dinner. After your father is finished eating, your mom begins to clean everything up, interrupting you and Taeyong from stuffing your face to avoid the silent stares. She picks up your plate and points to the dishes upon dishes of food. 

“Grab some of that and come help me.” She states, and you prepare yourself.

“Would you like me to help?” Taeyong asks, placing his napkin down.

“No.” She doesn’t look at him as she says it, but her straight face and stern voice are evidence enough for him to stay still.

You gather the food, shooting Taeyong a “save me” look. You follow your mom into the kitchen and begin to divide the leftovers into containers.

She begins speaking, and your heart falls to a halt. “So, he is the one you spoke about?”

“Yes.” Your reply is curt. Not wanting and not ready for any argument but aware one is to come.

“Hm.”

“I don’t want to hear it, mom.” You shake your head and stack the dirty dishes. “He’s nice and sweet. He loves me. I love him. I brought him here because I thought it was the polite thing to do.”

“Is he the reason you’ve begun speaking like this?” She asks, waving around a spoon as if it’s the most menacing weapon in existence.

You hold back from rolling your eyes. “I’ve always thought these things, and I’ve wanted to say them for a while now.”

“Is this the person we’ve raised you to become?” She asks. She puts down the spoon and shakes her head. “I’m disappointed.”

“You’re disappointed I’ve found a person I wanted to bring home? Is that why you’re disappointed, or are you disappointed that I found someone that makes me happy?”

“I’m glad you’re happy. I think you could be happy with a nice girl and have a wonderful family. A girl who listens and obeys-”

“Obeys?” You gasp out the word. You place the dishes in the sink and begin running water. “That’s barbaric, even for you.”

The soap pumps out slowly, needing to be refilled soon. Your mom stacks up unused containers to put back in cabinets. You stay in silence for a while before your mom decides it would be best to speak again.

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like anyone.” You wash the plates and cooking dishes, shaking your head the entire time. “I don’t need you to approve of him. I just want you to be nice to him. I know our family isn’t big on conversation, but the least you can do is talk to him.”

“We don’t like him. Are we supposed to lie to him?”

“You didn’t give him a chance! You don’t even know him-”

“I-”

You speak louder than you ever have in front of your parents. “You don’t like him because he’s a man!”

“Don’t you raise-”

You shake your head and turn off the water, throwing the scrub brush down. “Am I wrong?”

“I’m sorry I have these beliefs. I’m sorry we raised you-”

“Yeah, you raised me straight, and you see that turned out.” You shake your head and roll your eyes. “You didn’t even give him a chance, mom. Why does his gender matter? Why do you care about anything other than him making me happy?”

“Because your happiness doesn’t matter compared to-”

You tune her voice out halfway through the sentence. She stands, talking, as tears prick the corners of your eyes. You pull at your hair. You start to argue against her, opening and closing your mouth repeatedly. You push through the dining-room door. She yells at you not to walk away from her, but you ignore it, and the looks and complaints from your father for raising your voice or causing a scene.

“I’m sorry I brought you here,” You hold your hand out for Taeyong and smile. It’s a sad smile that Taeyong never wants to see again, and your heartbreak is visible behind the motion. “We should go.”

Taeyong no longer cares about impressing your family. Instead, all of his worry goes into your sad eyes and defeated posture. He stands, not looking at your sister’s angry manner, and walks you out of the house without a second thought.

He sits in the driver’s seat this time. Tears spill over your cheeks as the doors finally close and you cover your face.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? None of that was your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have-” You sniff and shake your head. “I shouldn’t have brought you. I had hoped they would act differently. I hoped they would finally be accepting, but I knew. I knew they were going to give you the cold shoulder tonight. I knew my mom was going to act like that.”

You wipe at your face. You’re rolling your eyes, and Taeyong isn’t sure if it’s at yourself or your family.

He reaches out to rub your shoulder, waiting for you to calm down a bit more before he speaks. “It’s not your fault your family acts like that. Nothing you did, especially not dating a guy, deserves that kind of treatment.”

“But I knew they were going to do something like that, and I still forced you to come along.”

“You didn’t force me to do anything.” Taeyong turns to you and takes your hand in his. “I willingly came along.”

You lean your head back, sighing deeply. “I’m still sorry.”

Taeyong pats your shoulder. He kisses your knuckles softly. “I’m just upset we couldn’t get dessert. Those cookies looked pretty good.”

You start smiling halfway through his statement, and you’re laughing by the end. He smiles with you. 

“It’s not your fault. And if you ever want to go back, even after I saw how they were acting, I’ll be happy to join you.”

You breathe out and shake your head. “That’s not going to happen any time soon.”

[peakyxtommy]

Not So Little - Thomas Shelby x Daughter X Wife!Reader

Summary: Tommy’s Reaction to Daughter Christmas dress and his feelings toward her growing up. (This was requested!) 

A/N: Thank you so much to whoever sent this request. It made my day and I was so happy and excited to write this as soon as I came home from work. I hope you enjoy this!! The first half is in Reader’s POV and then Daughter’s POV. 

It was the annual Shelby Christmas party at yours and Tommy’s home. It took lots of time preparing and planning but it was always a joyous evening to have. The kids really enjoyed themselves, so this year was no different with taking them out to get the perfect outfit for the occasion. As your daughter grew older, the more she thought about her choice of fashion and style. 

This year was the very first year you let her pick out her own dress, deciding she was old enough to make the decision as she was going to be turning 16 in a couple of months. She was very excited about the decision and thanked you profusely. It was the happiest you had seen her in a while as she was becoming stressed with her studies and managing her social life that came with school and your father being a politician and a gangster. 

Tonight was the special night for the Christmas party. You had gotten your youngest boys 8 and 5 ready for the party. Then sent them on their way down stairs to play with a few of their cousins that arrived early. Tom was downstairs making sure everything was in order as you continued getting ready. It had been a while since you had gotten dressed up and were glad as well to look a little different then normal. 

As you sit at your vanity finishing up your hairstyle of the evening, you hear a quick knock at the door. 

“Come in.” You respond watching as the door swings open, only to be close to just a crack. As your daughter came in with her red lace dress and white stocking and black heels to you in a hurry. 

“Mom, I need to borrow your red lipstick to complete my look.” She speaks with joy as you take in how much older she had gotten since she was a little girl. She was smart and clever like her father but sensitive like you. She also knew how to hold her own most of the time. 

“Sure my love, let me go through my bag.” As you go through your bag, you hear the door open yet again, to reveal your husband. Wearing a three piece suit and a gold arm chain, glasses on, and black shoes to complete the outfit. 

“What’s going on here?” He asks as your daughter turns around to face her father.

“Just getting some lipstick from mum. Do you like my dress dad?” Your daughter responds to her father’s question with excitement. As you watch his face fall into a scowl and face slowly becoming red. 

“You need to go change right now young lady!” He shouts, pointing his finger at her. He goes to close the door, to keep the conversation private. Pinching the bridge of his nose on the way back to hold his actual temper. 

“Why dad? Mom let me pick it out! I really love this dress. I am not a little girl anymore!”

“Yes, you are! If you live under my roof, you follow my rules!” 

“Enough!” You  shout, making all eyes land on you.

“Gemma, darling, take the lipstick and finish getting ready. Put a black sweater on over your dress, okay. I’ll come check on you in a few minutes.” Your daughter takes the lipstick with a pout on her face and walks out the room with her face toward the ground, not daring to look her father in his eyes. Her shoulders slouch down as the door closes loudly behind her. It leaves the room echoing in silence as it was just you and Tommy now. 

 “You had no right, Thomas to do what you did just now. Especially on a night like tonight. You should be ashamed of yourself.” You yell pointing your finger at your husband in anger as he continues to stand his ground. 

“(Y/N), she’s only a child. She shouldn’t be dressing like that. It’ll get her all the wrong attention. Why did you let her make the choice anyway?” He huffs, going to take a seat on the bed. 

“Tommy, you and I both know that’s not fully true. She’s going to be 16 in a couple of months. She is becoming a woman now and we need to support her in making her own decisions and choices. I let her have this dress, because if you could’ve seen her face and confidence when she came out the dressing room, you would feel the same. It’s the happiest I've seen her in a while since she began this semester. You took that all away right now with the choice of your words and actions.” You watch as his face crumbles. Now realizing the weight of his words on his daughter, not only making her upset but now you. You come to sit next to your husband who continues to look at the floor lost in thought. 

“What’s really bugging you, hun?” You speak into his ear, fingers running through his hair.

“I’m scared.” He mumbles and you almost miss it.

“Scared of what Tom?” 

“She’s not going to be a little girl anymore. That I can’t protect her from this cruel world more than I have already tried. She’s going to get her heart broken and she’s going to leave us one day. I’m not ready to let her go.” He finally shows his blue irises to you and you can tell he’s getting emotional as a tear appears in his eye, fighting it’s way back down. 

“Love, she’ll always be your little girl. You are her first love and she’ll always need her dad. You’ve been a great dad, even with your flaws. We both know she’s a smart girl and is focused with her head in the books. She can take care of herself. We’ve raised her well. 

Yes, she’s going to get her heartbroken. We’ve had our share of heartbreak but it brings us here. Yes, she’s going to leave, but she’ll always come back to us. It scares me too if I dwell on it too much, but I trust her fully Tommy. You should too and even when she messes up, because she will.” You press a kiss against his temple, taking his face into your hand, making your faces meet to stare into each other's eyes. You could tell your words helped him, as his eyes shone with devotion for only you. 

“Don’t know how I got so lucky for ya to be my wife.” He kisses you sweetly on the lips for a moment. 

“I love being your wife Mr.Shelby. I am lucky too. You still owe our daughter an apology though.” You peck his lips one last time before making your way back to the vanity. 

“Yes, Mrs. Shelby.” He nods curtly and makes his way toward the door. 

“Tom, I love you.” You speak as his hand twists around the gold knob, to open it.

“I love you too (Y/N).” He smiles at you as he leaves to find your daughter. 

-

He knocks at the wooden door, hearing her small voice answer. He enters to find her sitting on her bed staring at the ceiling. Her head picks up to see who is at the door and goes back down and body turns toward the wall in the opposite direction.

“I know you’re angry Gemma. You have every right to be.” He speaks, taking a seat in the chair at his daughter’s vanity as she continues to ignore him.

“I came to apologize. I’m really sorry lovie, for the way I acted and responded toward you. You looked very beautiful in the dress and I'm proud of you for making your own choice.” He speaks, hand rubbing the back of his neck in nervousness. He still wasn’t one for apologizing or being vulnerable. With having kids, even after all these years, it was still hard for him, but he knew it was important as well. 

“Then why say it at all?” She responds to him. He takes a moment to think about his words carefully before coming around to her bed to look her directly in the eyes. Bending down to meet her at her level. She looks anywhere except his eyes. 

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Your dad gets scared sometimes. I am scared about you growing up.  I remember when your mother told me she was pregnant with you, the first thing I felt was fear but also excitement. I was excited to meet you before I even got to know you. As soon as you were born, I held you for the first time, I became a changed man. 

You are my little girl and it’s my job to protect you. It scares me to watch you grow into the beautiful and smart young lady you are, but I need to let you grow to be yourself.” She takes a minute to soak in her father’s words towards her. Accepting them as the truth and his love. 

“I love you Gemma. I’m always going to and nothing will ever change that. I will always support you and try my best to get better at holding my temper and letting you grow.” He speaks, taking a seat on the bed as she comes to sit up on the bed facing him. 

“Thank you dad, I accept your apology. I’ll always be your little girl. I love you.” She speaks, giving him a long hug as he presses a kiss to the crown of her head. 

Unbeknownst to them, you were standing listening through the crack in the door at their interaction. Proud of them both and couldn’t imagine life without the two of them. The love in your heart multiplying. 

“Who’s ready to party?” You make yourself known as they both stand. 

“How long were you there?” Tom questions, as you daughter chuckles, coming to give you a hug.

“Long enough, now let’s go. We’re due for some fun tonight.” 

“That we are.” Tom takes your hands in his, kissing your cheek. As the three of you make your way down stairs to join the chaos of the party. Having a fun and memorable evening.

Taglist:

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

[volleychumps]

HEY HEY HEY!! I just wanna say your writing is just amazingggg! If possible, can you do a Bokuto x reader where reader is dared to call her crush and calls bokuto and he's right next to her but hella confused? I feel like the clownery would be IMMENSE 😂😂

Hiii!! They yoinked my teethsies but I’m feeling better, thanks to everyone who asked I love youuuu guys so much!! 

Sober Realizations. -Bokuto Kotaro-

Word Count: 1548

Warning(s): cursing, suggestive content(nsfw),  alcohol (aged up) 

-------------------------------------------

“Talk about a pussy dare.” 

Kuroo winks at you as he downs the rest of the vodka bottle in one go, high-fiving Bokuto afterwards as you glare at Tsukishima, who had given the raven-haired captain the dull dare to begin with. The blonde simply shrugs, leaning back to pop open a can of cranberry beer as Kaori continues to burst out laughing at the turn of events. 

“So I have to strip my shirt off but Mr. I’m-too-good-for-girly-drinks gets to chug his favorite alcohol? I call bullshit.” 

“At least your bra is cute!” Kaori exclaims, cuddling you close as you roll your eyes, feeling Bokuto shift next to you as your breath catches in your throat. The shared dorm of the boys had you all sitting in a rather closely knit-circle, you and Kaori coming over for old times’ sake seeing you were all attending the same college as you ended up sidled comfortably up to your high school crush. Bokuto takes another swig of Smirnoff before offering the rest to you. 

Bokuto grins as you fight your blush when he reaches a hand out to tousle your hair as you shyly sip, his jacket loosely covering your frame yet still remaining unzipped to reveal your black bra underneath. Bokuto hadn’t even reacted when the bastard Nekoma captain dared you to strip, simply laughing and making you feel worse as a result-

especially considering the brother-like gesture of draping his team jacket across your shoulders. 

Tsukishima had to call Daichi- 

“D-Dad come pick me up, they’re drinking alcohol-” 

“Tsukishima, to put it nicely, what the fuck-”

Akaashi had to reenact High School Musical’s iconic Gotta Go My Own Way with Bokuto playing as Troy-

“Akaashi how do you mess this up?! It’s a simple one-two rhythm-!” 

“I will end you.”

And your personal favorite- 

Bokuto had to also strip his shirt off, due to Tsukishima’s bland-ass pick of the dares and his unwillingness to be creative. So that’s how you ended up, head leaning loosely on the broad shoulder of Bokuto, who (thank the gods) had his hair down from his previous shower, smelling of bath soap and a tinge of his cologne with his shirt discarded to the left of him. 

You bite back a sigh as your turn comes around again, Kaori grinning a tad wickedly at you as you arch a brow, wondering just where your friend would take this. 

“Truth or dare, Y/N~?” 

Your eyes narrow at her tone. “Truth.” 

“Who would you want to fuck the most in this room right now?” 

“Me, obviously-” 

“Bite my ass, Kuroo.” You snip at the smirking player, turning back to your suspicious friend. “Dare.” 

“Oho? I dare you to call your crush.” 

“What are we, seventh graders?” You challenge almost immediately, feeling your heart rate pick up as your fingers trace the rim of your drink, telepathically cursing Kaori with every colorful word you could come up with. 

“Well, I’d most definitely want to fuck Kei-” 

“wHAT?! Over me?!” 

“Sit your clown ass down, Kuroo, I’d want to fuck Kei over for picking shitty ass dares.” 

“Don’t make me come over there, woman.” 

“Not the truth, Y/N~, you know what that means~” Kaori sings as you think it over for a moment. Although your immediate reaction had been to deny deny, and deny, you couldn’t help but wonder if doing this childish action would bring you the closure you needed. Your petty crush on Bokuto had started in high school, but he had never acted as anything more than your older brother and best friend. However, you had never directly stated to him after all these years what you really felt for him, the boy who had been there through countless breakups and heartbreaks. 

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you throw your drink back as your other hand fiddles with your phone, tapping quickly before you can stop yourself. 

“Five bucks she calls Lev.” 

“Lev’s like, my child, how dare you say that.” 

After your pointed glare towards an amused Kuroo, the silence that settles around the room when you hit call makes you want to turn off your phone and end it-

but it was far far too late for that.

You keep your eyes downcast as Bokuto’s phone lights up with your name, heart emojis and all. 

Akaashi and Tsukishima exchange quiet, knowing glances as Kaori and Kuroo’s eyes widen at the fact that you had actually done it-

“Huh?” The golden-eyed boy seemed to be immersed in confusion for a good second as he looks down at the caller. You hold your breath- 

“Heyooo Y/N!” Bokuto picks up the phone from next to you as you sweat drop. 

“You were supposed to call your crush, but you called me! Do you need a do-over?” 

Akaashi and Tsukishima both hang their heads gloomily in disbelief as Kuroo cackles, Kaori putting both hands to the sides of her temple to massage the sides. You swallow the lump of dissapointment in your throat as Bokuto continues to hold his phone up to his ear, grinning that same cheeky grin you were still in love with. 

“What? Why is everyone being weirder than usual?” Golden eyes blink in innocent confusion as you forget just how much of a dumbass the talented ace was at times. 

“...Yeah. Maybe I do need a do-over.” Your smile is wobbly as you finish off your drink, standing all of a sudden to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. In the minute of silence after your leave, Bokuto seemed to be concentrating really hard with furrowed brows, wondering why the sudden change of atmosphere had occurred as Akaashi begins to reach a hand out-

“Bokuto-san-” 

“Sh. He’s almost there.” Kuroo stops him with a knowing grin. 

“Kuroo, his brain might explode from thinking too hard-” 

“Let it.” 

“That’s awful, Kei!” Kaori swats the blonde. 

Amidst the conversation, Bokuto stands all of a sudden, eyes widened with a weak finger ponting at himself as he looks each of his friends in the eye. 

“Wait, don’t tell me-” 

“I was this close to playing jeapordy music, too.”

“Tsukki, go to your room.” 

Ignoring the flicked off finger in the direction of Kuroo from the blonde, Akaashi groans to himself when Bokuto makes a mad dash to his bedroom, the room that had the bathroom you excused yourself to as the setter rolls his eyes. 

“Four years to get together and they have to do it in my dorm bathroom?” 

“Just drink your wine, old man, we’ll put him on clean-up duty.” 

Tap. 

“Can I come in?” 

“O-One second!” Your voice attempts to chirp, only to crack. Upon hearing that, Bokuto lets himself in anyway to see you supporting yourself up with both arms on Akaashi’s sink, head hung over the drain as you straighten all of a sudden, startled at his entry as palms swipe at the moisture falling down your flushed cheeks. The loose sleeves of his jacket and the exposure of your undergarment-

had Bokuto’s mouth drier than he remembered it, the sudden urge to touch you overwhelming him. 

“Sorry, I might’ve had too much to drink, I don’t know what’s with me...” You trail off in a slight slur, prompting Bokuto to shut the door tightly as he lessens the distance between the two of you in the already small bathroom. You bite your lip at his shirtless form and you’re practically matching one as your thoughts remain sober, wondering if you could play it off with you being too drunk. 

“Y/N-chan...Did you mean to call me?” Bokuto’s voice is scarily soft as his grey-black locks fell over his goregous golden eyes, and you find yourself at a loss for words when a hand reaches out to grab the sink, leaning over you and sealing off your escape. You gulp at the proximity, looking away bashfully. 

“No. I didn’t.” 

“Don’t lie, Y/N-chan, we promised we wouldn’t do that!”

You flinch at the feel of Bokuto’s lips ghosting over your neck, feeling hot all of a sudden as Bokuto pulls back slightly, gold eyes deadly serious, something you only had seen in his matches. 

“How long?” 

Your lips pout as you look away again, refusing to answer, prompting the gray haired boy to use his thumb and forefinger to turn your chin back in his direction, gold eyes desperate for an answer. 

“S-Since our second year.” 

His warm hands dip through his jacket to stroke your waist, causing you to whimper a little as Bokuto releases a breathy sigh, using the sides of his jacket to pull you closer to him so he can sit you on Akaashi’s sink. He smiles as you try to process what’s happening as he moves to stand between your thighs. 

“Then I have...what, four years to make up?” Your alcoholic breaths mingle as your fingers find themselves woven throughout his hair, your other hand moving to rest on the back of his neck as you shyly meet Bokuto’s loving gaze.

“O-Only if you want to...” 

“Oh trust me.” You flinch when he pulls the jacket off your shoulders, the material falling to the floor as his hand moves to turn the lock. 

“I want to.”

[lololova]

Visiting Hours

A/N: Please listen to Ed Sheeran’s new song “Visiting hours” during/after reading this ficlet, it was inspired by it and it’s so beautiful. Also, this is a Guitar Girl universe ficlet. Hope you enjoy it! Until next time, xxxx

----------------------------------------------

Richard Castle wakes with a startle and looks around to find her. Only he doesn’t. He sits up in bed only to find she’s not in her chair either, her guitar is gone too. He tries to listen, maybe she’s gone to her living room to play without him waking up, but he can’t hear her. His heart starts to accelerate and so he decides to go up and find her. He looks in the living room, the kitchen, he even goes to the bathroom, only to find she’s nowhere to be found.

“Kate?” he calls out in the apartment.

No answer. Now he’s really starting to worry. Where can she be? He looks for her phone and doesn’t find it, her keys are gone as well. He finds his own phone and calls her.

“You’ve reached detective Kate Beckett, I can’t answer your call right now. Leave a message after the beep.”

“Damnit,” he says as he starts to worry. What if something’s happened? He calls the precinct.

“Officer L.T. here.”

“Hey, it’s Castle, is Beckett there?” he immediately asks and he hears L.T. shuffle around a bit.

“No, I haven’t seen her come in, wait a minute, I’ll just go double check,” he says and he leaves the phone on the desk in order to go and check her desk.

Castle can’t stand still as he awaits the officer to come back and give him an answer. What if she’s hurt? He keeps pacing back and forth in her apartment, still kind of hoping she’ll just come out from some corner asking him what he’s doing up.

“No, she’s not here, Castle,” L.T. says and his heart pounds harder.

“Okay, thank you, L.T.” he says as he quickly hangs up again to try and call her cell phone again.

“Come on, come on,” he whispers for himself as he listens on the phone.

“You’ve reached detective Kate Beckett, I can’t answer your call right now. Leave a message after the beep.”

“Kate, where are you?” he asks as he hangs up again and races to put on some jeans along with his jacket and shoes.

On his way out he’s calling Ryan, who’s awakened by his call.

“Ryan,” he mumbles and Castle starts rambling on about Beckett being gone immediately. “Hold up, hold up, Castle, what?”

“I woke up and she’s not here! And she’s not answering her phone! She’s not at the precinct either, I called and L.T. checked!” he’s pretty much shouting with the panic flowing through his veins.

“Okay, I-ah,” Ryan sounds confused as he’s probably doing his best to understand what’s going on. “Have you tried calling Jim?”

Castle stops in his tracks, his hand on the door knob. “No,” he says. “Would she want me to worry him?”

He can practically hear the shrug from Ryan. “Well, if you really think she’s gone out then perhaps her dad knows where to.”

“Okay,” Castle says and Ryan tells him to call again if the elder man doesn’t know or if Castle doesn’t find her after looking where her dad might suggest.

Castle goes out before calling Jim Beckett, figures he wants to be on his feet in order to be able to steer his footsteps the second the man suggests a location. The older man answers almost immediately.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Rick Castle, I’m…”

“I know who you are, you’re dating my daughter,” Jim cuts him off and Castle gulps.

“Yeah, I-uhm, I’m calling because I can’t reach Kate, do you know where she could be?” he asks and he hears a sigh on the other end of the call. “I’m so sorry for disturbing you this early I’m just…”

“No-no, don’t apologize, I was up anyway, just like Katie,” the old man sighs again and Castle feels his forehead wrinkle in confusion. “It’s January 9th.”

Castle is quiet for a few seconds. “What does that have to do with anything?” he eventually questions.

“She hasn’t told you yet, has she..?” the old man sounds sad and it’s kind of heartbreaking to listen to. “My wife passed away ten years ago today, Katie usually spends an early morning at her grave since she throws herself into work during the day.”

Oh! “I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” Castle starts but the man hushes him.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be back in a few hours.”

Castle waits a beat, gathering up courage. “Can I ask where her grave is, sir?”

He can feel the hesitation radiate through the phone, and he’s certain the man won’t give it to him. After all, they’d only been dating a couple months, but still. She shouldn’t be alone, should she? Was it wrong of him to go after her?

“Richard,” the man says slowly. “Promise me you will leave her alone if she asks you to.”

He nods, even though he knows the man can’t see him. “I promise, sir.”

“It’s Jim, son,” the man says with a friendly tone before he tells the cemetery his wife is buried at.

“Thank you, thank you so much, Jim,” Castle says.

“Take care of her,” Jim states before he hangs up and Castle immediately sets off to find his girlfriend.

----------------------------------------------------

He does find her at the cemetery, he spots her long before she spots him. In fact, she doesn’t spot him until he makes himself known, since he’s coming in from behind her. Before he does make himself known, though, he stops a few feet behind her to observe her.

She’s sitting in the grass, guitar in her lap, her fingers playing something softly. He moves slightly closer to be able to hear the music, and eventually he hears her voice too.

“I wish that Heaven had visiting hours. And I would ask them, if I could take you home. But I know what they’d say, that it’s for the best. So I will live life, the way you taught me. And make it on my own.”

He listens as her voice dies down and she sings a last chorus. Carefully he walks closer, gently clearing his throat to make himself heard. Her head immediately whips around with a frightened expression on her face, until she sees it’s him.

“Hey,” he says carefully and she wipes her cheeks quickly.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, turning her head away from him and he slows down his steps towards her. He promised he’ll leave her alone if she wants him to.

“I-I called your dad, you scared me. I thought you… I had no idea,” he says and he sees her shoulders slump a bit.

“I didn’t want you to know yet,” he hears her whisper.

“I understand that, do you want me to go?” he asks, his voice gentle. He won’t be hurt if she does. He won’t be hurt if she kicks him away. At least that’s what he keeps telling himself. This was her pain to share, not his to find.

It’s quiet for a while and he awaits her answer, doesn’t want to move closer until he knows what she wants, and when the sound of sobs fills the silence he wants to wrap his arms around her. But he doesn’t.

“No,” he eventually hears her whisper as she’s turning her head to him with tears in her eyes and that’s all he needs to close the last steps between them, sinking down to the ground and she immediately leans her head into his chest. His arms wrap around her in a comforting hug and he hears her take a deep breath as she’s clamping onto him. “I’m sorry I scared you,” she whispers after a few seconds and he shakes his head as he hugs her tighter.

“Don’t be, I’m sorry I snooped around,” he apologizes and feels her hug his side.

“I shouldn’t have invited you yesterday without telling you,” she mumbles.

They sit there for a while, she’s pulling away slightly to look towards the grave in front of them and for the first time he’s looking at it too.

Johanna Beckett, it says.Vincit Omnia Veritas. If he’s not wrong it means something like; Truth conquers all.

“Did you write a new song tonight?” he asks after they’ve been silent for a long time.

“What do you mean?” she asks and he nods towards the guitar lying in the grass in front of them.

“I heard you play,” he states and she blushes a little bit.

“Well, not really, I wrote it a long while ago, I just sing it to her,” she tells him and he bites the insides of his cheek.

“Can I hear it?” he asks with big puppy eyes.

At first she shakes her head, an immediate reaction he supposes, but then she looks down at the guitar and up at her mom’s grave.

“Only if you promise not to sing it further or tell anyone about it,” she says with serious eyes looking up at him and he smiles.

“I promise,” he says for the second time tonight. And just like the first time, he means it.

The end

[tsarisfanfiction]

Libel

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Scott, John

Words are powerful weapons.  It doesn’t matter how popular you are when the rumour mill turns against you.

Day three “Sticks and stones may break my bones but...” of @whumptober-archive and we’re using the prompts insults and “Who did this to you?” today.  Romantic trouble ahead, with cheating and nasty false accusations.

Scott slouched against the wall, feeling the cool but rough texture of the bricks pressing against the bare skin of his arms.  The day had been hell from beginning to end, and now he just wanted to go home, but it was a Tuesday and Tuesdays were special.

On a Wednesday and Thursday, he had to leave school the moment class let out to pick up Alan from daycare, because Grandma had her own commitments that she couldn’t reschedule and Dad was always too busy with work.  On Mondays and Fridays, John stayed behind for extra classes, so Scott would go home alone – or hang out with friends, or-

Well.

On Tuesdays, John had no extra classes, Grandma was free to pick up Alan, and Scott’s schedule was clear, so they made a point of going home together.  It was a routine they’d settled into almost immediately, and Scott enjoyed the quiet time with just his immediate brother before they returned to the chaos that was the rest of their family.

John’s last class was the far end of the campus from the gates, so Scott always made it to the meeting point first by a few minutes.  Sometimes several, if the quiet ginger got caught up talking to a teacher about an assignment, which happened more often than not.  Today, he’d been waiting for five, and there was yet to be a sign of him.

Today had been rotten. Scott didn’t want to still be on campus, conscious of all the eyes boring into him as his year mates moved past in packs.  None of their gazes were friendly; several were outright hostile, and he pressed back a little further into the wall of the math block in a vain attempt to escape.

His phone was in his hand, a message typed out by trembling fingers and waiting to be sent.

Sorry, something came up. I’ll see you at home.

A thumb hovered over the send key.  All it had to do was descend and then he could slip away from the hoards and their accusing eyes.  Escape from school and hide out in the woods for a while to try and come to terms with exactly what had happened before slinking home in time for dinner.

It would spare him John’s reaction for a little while longer, too.

But while John never said it in so many words, Scott knew that he looked forwards to their once-a-week walk home, too.  He’d be disappointed if Scott bailed on him – and confused, because Scott hadn’t bailed on him once all year, despite occasional social invites.  With four brothers, one-on-one time with any of them was precious, and Scott was always at loath to give it up.

“Sorry I’m late.” John was talking even before he rounded the corner to their meeting place, and Scott dropped the phone back into his pocket, unsent message still taking up the screen.  He hadn’t decided in time, or maybe he subconsciously just wanted to get the judgement over with.  “Mr Kemp-”

Scott looked up as his brother’s voice cut off, unable to muster even a faint grin at the sight of him. Turquoise eyes were wide with horror as John stared, whatever Mr Kemp had said or done immediately forgotten.

“Hey, John,” he greeted. His voice fell flat even to his own ears, and he watched as John stashed the tablet perpetually in his hand into his messenger bag before he hurried the last few paces towards him.

A pale hand rose up and lingered in front of his face, not quite touching as it traced something on his skin.  The black eye that had swollen his left eye almost shut, probably.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was glacier cold, and barely above a whisper.  It was less a question and more a demand – a copy of Scott’s own attitude whenever he found out someone was hurting his brothers.

John always was observant.

“It doesn’t matter.” It wasn’t a story Scott wanted to tell to anyone, and if it hadn’t spread far enough through the school to reach John’s ears during the day, then he wasn’t about to provide a second wind. “Let’s get out of here.”  He pushed off from the brick wall, gallantly ignoring the screaming protests of his battered body at the idea of moving.

Scott was pretty sure there was nothing serious, it just hurt and no doubt his skin was varying shades of bruised.

“Scott,” John warned, but he didn’t try to stop him.  Maybe he knew that Scott needed to get out – then again, Scott suspected that he was broadcasting that painfully loudly to his brother.

They left the safety of their meeting point and joined the throng headed for the gate.

“Bastard.”  It wasn’t clear where the word came from, but it was from somewhere in the masses of teenagers they were forging through.

“Creep.”

“Sick.”

“Filthy.”

“Slut.”

Each word, each insult, crashed into him and suffocated him a little more.  It hurt, pain adding onto the pain that had started it all in the first place – hurt more than his physical wounds, an almost-negligible throbbing that would probably make its presence known sharply once the haze of disbelief and emotional impact faded.

Beside him, John seemed to stand a little straighter, a little taller in a reversal of their usual stances, where the ginger was the one that tended to aim for invisibility and Scott was the one that strode ahead purposefully.  He cut a swathe through the milling, jeering crowds, forcing a path to open up for them.  If Scott could look anywhere other than the stained, chewing-gum riddled tarmac, he suspected he might find that John’s face was thunderous enough to cut through even the upperclassmen he usually ignored.

He was jostled suddenly, someone crashing into his shoulder hard enough to drive him staggering into John, and the cacophony of noise continued as he stumbled back upright with his brother’s hand now lightly holding his arm.  In his periphery, he saw John pluck his own phone out of his bag. For a moment his brother did nothing about whatever was on the screen, but then he was tapping out a message Scott couldn’t read before sliding his phone away again.

His other hand didn’t leave Scott’s arm.  Not when they reached the gate, and Scott stumbled over a stray ankle suddenly in his path, or when they passed it and a moped sped past close enough that he could hear the rider’s snarled insults over the roaring engine.

Not even when he diverted from their route home all of a sudden, nudging Scott down a narrow alley that led towards the woods, losing the crowds and replacing them with large, old trees packed closely enough together that the casual observer couldn’t see between them.

It was Scott’s favourite place to retreat when he needed his own space, and John – unsurprisingly – knew that.

“Scott, what happened?” John drew them to a halt under the reaching arms of a particularly large tree, branches thick and low and almost forming a cavern of brown and green.

He shook his head, not sure he could trust his voice not to betray him.  The soft fingers left his arm, and John moved to stand directly in front of him.  Scott looked at the ground, littered with broken twigs and the occasional fallen leaf, rather than meet his eyes.

He should’ve known better than to hope John would leave it alone.

“Something happened with Christie.”

It was too confident to be a guess, but that was John all over, putting the facts together and reaching the logical conclusions.

Scott sank down to the ground, his bag landing heavily beside him.  John followed more gracefully, crouching in front of him.

“Did she dump you?”

The noise that forced its way out of Scott’s throat was best described as strangled laughter, driven by despair rather than humour.  “No.” The word cracked in half.

Morning recess, leaving the cafeteria with her favourite chocolate in hand as a surprise. Rounding a corner into the locker corridor.  Christie with her tongue down another boy’s throat, top riding up indecently high with the guy’s hand clearly snaking inside her bra.

Heartbreak.

“I ended it.”

His brother inhaled sharply. “What did she do?”

What didn’t she do?  Breaking his heart was just the start; he was popular, but so was she, and the person who cried out that they were a victim first was almost always the one believed.

Popularity meant nothing against the rumour mill, and something Scott had never realised was how good an actress Christie was.  While he’d spent the rest of recess hidden away, choking out tears of betrayal and shock, she’d-

He didn’t even know why she’d done it.  It felt like a revenge tactic, but Scott had no idea what she was avenging, why she was suddenly so determined to ruin him.

Coming back to class, eyes still stinging, to find metaphorical daggers pressed to his throat by every student in the room, had been a shock.  Christie had been sobbing into the chest of Peter, a boy Scott normally got on with fine but suddenly looked like he wanted nothing better than to murder him where he stood.

It wasn’t until lunch time that he found out what she’d told everyone, letting the story spread like wildfire across their year group until Scott was the scum of the earth in the eyes of everyone.

She’d dumped him, the rumour mill said even though Scott knew for certain that he’d been the one to tell her we’re over while fighting back tears.  The chocolates had fallen to the floor and he had the stain on one sneaker to prove he’d accidentally stepped on them, too.  She’d dumped him, she’d claimed amongst floods of tears and ruined makeup, for pushing too far, for ignoring her boundaries, for taking more than she was willing to give.

They’d never even got as far as she had with the random guy he didn’t know in the corridor.

“I- I can’t,” he choked out, tears spilling out and stinging his cheeks as they slid down.  He swiped at them, trying in vain to hide them from the little brother regarding him with an ever-growing fury he knew wasn’t aimed at him.

“Tell me who beat you,” John insisted, thankfully changing tack although Scott knew the topic of Christie was only temporarily shelved.  “Did you see the nurse?”

Christie had two brothers, twins in their final year and both demons on the football pitch.  They’d always been reasonably chill towards Scott, at least much as older brothers would be, but just like any decent big brothers, took the distress of younger siblings very seriously.

They also had several friends who likewise adored sweet, charming Christie.

Even if he wasn’t still reeling from finding his now-ex girlfriend shacking up with another guy, Scott would never have stood a chance against the pack of upperclassmen. Stunned by the accusations hurtled his way, he’d been easy pickings.

He shook his head.

“Scott…”  John swallowed and slender fingers brushed against the side of his face, where he was no doubt a deep purple from the fist that had crashed into it.  “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but if that crowd at the gate were anything to go buy, it’s only a matter of time before the whole school hears something. I can’t help if I don’t know what we’re up against.”

“We?”  The word slipped out without permission, a startle against his brother’s proclamation.  “No- John- This-”

“They hurt you.”  John’s voice was laced with stubborn steel.  “I doubt Grandma’s going to let you out of her sight for the rest of the week at least.  Talk to me, Scott.”

He shook his head.  The tears kept flowing, periodically yanking sobs from his throat; each one had him hunching over further, coiled across his tender abdomen as he continued wiping away the salty liquid to no avail.

John edged closer, slender hands gripping his shoulders lightly.  “I’m here,” he promised.  “I’m here, and I’m not letting them hurt you again.”

It shouldn’t be a younger brother reassuring an elder – that went against the rules engrained deep within him – but John was exuding confidence and protectiveness in a way that was reassuring.  After a day of being destroyed both emotionally and literally, the tattered remains of Scott’s psyche found themselves clinging to every word and gesture.

It was enough to, haltingly, summarise the story.  No details, no explanations, just a shaking recounting of how she’d cheated on him, how she’d fuelled the rumour mill, how her brothers had reacted.

The hug his brother pulled him into, gentle and warm but firm and protective, promised safety and love. Promised that John believed him, a fear he hadn’t even realised was lurking until it was dismissed.

"You’re not going in tomorrow,” John told him.  “Not with these injuries, and not with that mob.  Grandma will back me up on that.”

Scott wanted to protest, but even the thought of walking back into school again, with the hissed words following him and aura of menace honing in on him, was enough to have his heartrate picking up like a rabbit’s.  He said nothing.

John didn’t need him to, and the two of them sat in near-silence, wind rustling the leaves and tears dripping from his eyes onto his brother’s shoulder.

He had no idea how long they stayed like that as his tear ducts ran dry and eyes transformed into crusty, stinging messes.  Eventually, John pulled back slightly.

“Ready to go home?” his brother asked.

No.  No, Scott was not ready to go home and face his family looking like this, but he didn’t have a choice.  They’d find out sooner rather than later, and the longer he and John took to get back, the more Grandma would worry.

She was probably already frantic, he realised as his vision focused enough to register that dusk was hitting.  They must have missed dinner.

“Don’t worry.”  John pulled out his phone.  “I told Grandma we’d be back late.”  Scott caught a glimpse of Scott’s upset, we’ll be back late, and an answering I’ll save you some dinner, don’t stay out too long, amongst several messages of concern from her in the interim.  The timestamps were from just after he’d met up with John after school – long before he’d started talking to his brother.

He blinked.  That didn’t make sense.  How did John know?  Actually, how had John known that he needed to come here, and not home?

The phone disappeared back into John’s bag, but not before Scott spotted his name high up in the message list.  Too high, considering he hadn’t sent him a message in days.

He fished his own phone out of his pocket and glanced down at it.  Notifications of messages from half his classmates sprung up everywhere, the message previews full of nothing nice, but that wasn’t what caught his attention.

Sorry, something came up. I’ll see you at home, the screen said, the same text he’d composed while considering ditching John and running.  The same text he knew he’d never actually sent.

It was on read.

A split-second memory of being jostled while passing through the gate flashed through his mind.

“Thanks for deciding to wait for me after all.”  John plucked the device from his fingers, and scowled down at the screen.  “I’m holding onto this for a while.”

Scott didn’t bother arguing, even though he knew full well that John would be collecting as much data as he possibly could from every single threatening message and probably had less than friendly intentions for doing so.  He was just too drained to do anything about it, and now that he’d exposed the situation onto his brother, it almost felt like a relief to let someone else handle things for a while.

“Ready to go home?” John asked him again.

Home meant worried family and an inordinate amount of fussing over the injuries he had.  Home meant burnt dinner leftovers because it had been his turn to cook.  Home meant more questions to field when he just wanted to bury his head in his pillow and pretend the day hadn’t happened.

Home meant a family who would believe his side of the story.  Home meant unconditional love and support.

Home meant safety.

He nodded and let John guide him back to his feet, his brother keeping a supporting arm around him even once he was vertical.

Home sounded like the best place to be.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part 24) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±9400 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part 24: John’s presence at the horse show flips Dean’s world upside down, sending him a tailspin that could have serious consequences. Will Y/N and his friends be able to get through to him? Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak, slowburn. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: How Do You Get ‘Em Back - David Ramirez. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @atc74​​​​, and @winchest09​​​​ for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999​​​​, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam​​​​, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand. Guys, this is going to be a heavy one. 9.3K of angst. If you are invested in this story, I suggest you’ll have the tissues ready before you start reading. Godspeed.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “Hello, son.”

     Only two words, but it’s more than Dean has heard his father say in a long while. The simple greeting lingers between them, like smog polluting the air, stealing his breath. A force of habit the cowboy assumed was long forgotten has him square his shoulders. After all, if there’s anything John taught him it's that men can’t be weak.

     What does he call him? Dad? Sir? The cowboy isn’t even sure and so he decides to keep his mouth closed. Instead, he measures the man before him. He is but a ghost of the parent Dean remembers - or at least idolized for so long. His boots are dusty and worn, the leather tearing at the creases. His clothes are dirty, stains on the white t-shirt he’s wearing under a camel jacket. He grew a beard, the tough hairs grey now. A black cowboy hat hides most of his slick hair, but they don’t conceal the dark circles under his father’s eyes, nor the tale of pain and sorrow that are still apparent. Nothing has changed, really. He just got older.

     Dean can feel his knees weaken as his breaths come out shaky, but he is able to stand his ground. He sets his jaw, gritting away the frustration that continues to build, his fists clenched, nails digging into his palm. But it’s more than just aggravation that courses through him; it’s joined with an overwhelming sense of panic and fear. He wants to run, far away from confrontations and the dull blade that is tearing open old wounds. What he would give to go back in time, just an hour or so, to prevent this moment. What he would give to be able to live the life he naively pictured, with his family, with Y/N. 

     Meanwhile, John watches him, eyes glossed over and wearing a small smile. “It’s good to see you.”      Still, Dean can’t speak. He just stares at his father. Even the gentle words falling from John’s chapped lips don’t lift the tension. Where Dean was thankful that the stables were empty just a few minutes ago, he now wishes it was swarming with people, because being cut out from the public eye is not a position the cowboy wants his girlfriend to be in. When John steps closer hesitatingly, Dean moves in front of her, one hand back to make sure she stays behind him. It’s instinct, a reaction that is fed by years of doing the same for Sammy. He did everything possible to protect his brother then, and now he has to do the same for her. Dean has to get her out of here. Now.

     The cowboy turns his head slightly, addressing Y/N without letting his old man out of his sight. “You should get Joplin warmed up. I’ll be right there.”      “Dean? Are you s--”      “Go,” he insists, wincing at the strict tone of his own voice. 

     John has halted and watches the exchange, his gaze following the cowgirl who moves to the box on her right and takes off the halter of a black horse inside the stable. Without a word but with concern and confusion evident in her eyes - which flick to his before she averts them quickly - she takes the Quarter by the reins and guides the mare out of the stable. When she’s out of earshot, Dean’s father returns his focus to his son.      “That your girlfriend?” he wonders.      “No,” the wrangler claims, wanting to keep her out of this at all costs. John doesn’t have to know about his relationships with her or with his friends. It will make them vulnerable to his influence. “She’s just an intern,” he adds.

     Believing the statement to be true, he dips his chin, nodding slightly, and Dean is able to exhale. At least he got Y/N out of harm’s way, now he just needs to somehow prepare himself to take the fire. It’s been a long time coming, but it’s time to face the faults of the past. He  allowed the family to fall apart on that dreadful night when the bond between the Winchesters was shattered to pieces. Dean destroyed it all.

     Carefully, his old man moves closer once more, and involuntarily the young cowboy steps back. He doesn’t want to. He intends to stand tall and hold position, but trepidation has him back up before he can stop himself. Apparently aware of the effect he has on Dean, John ceases his attempt to close the unbreachable gap between father and son. 

     Leaving a safe distance between them, he speaks again. “You’ve grown up to be quite the man, Dean. Your aunt and uncle must have taken good care of you.”      More than you’ve ever done, Dean thinks to himself, but he doesn’t say it out loud, too apprehensive for the reaction it might trigger. “They have.”     “Well, I’m glad,” John smiles at the ground. “I’m glad you landed on your feet. Do you know if Sammy did too?”

     Dean’s eyes fill to the brim before he can blink. He doesn’t know. The big brother who was supposed to look out for him, who was supposed to give everything to provide his younger sibling the safety and care that he deserved, doesn’t know. The question is a punch in the gut, a verification of the fact that he has failed Sam like he has failed so many others.      “I don’t,” he admits, doing everything in his power to keep his voice steady. “I haven’t seen him since.”

     John sighs, sniffles slightly and glances up, as if he’s mad for a prayer that has been left unanswered. The news does a number on the old guy, and suddenly Dean feels sorry for the man standing before him. His father was already lost when their mother died, and it only got worse when Sam disappeared. The agony it triggered has never left him, just like it never left his son. That loss will always remain, a piece of their heart cut away violently, leaving a hole that bleeds to this day. They both had to settle for a life without Mary and the youngest Winchester in it. As much as Dean wants to hate his father, he simply can’t. He wouldn’t want to wish that kind of torture upon anyone, let alone his dad. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes he has made.

     “I’m sorry to hear that. I hoped that maybe…” John pauses, shaking his head slightly. “I hoped you boys at least found your way back to each other.” 

     Dean swallows with difficulty, his bottom lashes barely clinging to the tears that threaten to roll down his face, but he manages to keep it together. He wishes the same, because life without his sibling feels incomplete. God, he misses Sam. And all that guilt, the sorrow, and the uncertainty of his well-being come rushing back to him in a magnitude that he can’t cope with.

     John watches his son again, a grown man now, yet still his boy. “I was wondering if maybe we could sit down someday. Have a drink or something, y’know? Try and put this all behind us?”

     Astonished, Dean stares at him. A part of him wants to mend this broken relationship, but John must be aware that rekindling the father-son bond will never undo all the trauma their family endured. There’s no going back to how things were, there is no returning to the time the Winchesters were happy. Mom died, and her death set them on a course of total ruination. And yet, Dean can’t answer. He can’t tell his father ‘no’.

     “John Winchester!”      Hasty footsteps echo between the stable walls, and when the conflicted cowboy glances past his father, he notices Bobby, moving closer with determined strides. A shuddering sigh of relief escapes Dean, and he’s glad the man opposite of him turns around to face his former brother-in-law so that he doesn’t witness the sign of weakness. With his uncle here, he instantly feels safer, knowing that even if this conversation develops into an argument, he has back-up now. 

     The elder man holds a fury in his eyes that is visible even in the shadows of the worn ball cap he always wears. “You better walk away,” he warns.      “We were just talkin’,” John assures, calmly.      “I don’t care if you are holding a family reunion,” Bobby sneers. “If you don’t leave right now, I will get my gun and blast your sorry ass so full of buckshot that you will never sit in a saddle again without scratching the leather.”

     Dean’s gaze bounces between his father and his uncle, weary of the clash that is about to kick off, as the two older men keep their eyes locked on each other, tension rising by the second. But then, against his expectations, John gives in to Bobby’s request and steps aside. He glances back at his son one last time, giving him a sad smile, before he breaks away and strolls off, shoulders slumped and defeat obvious.

     Collecting himself by taking a breath and blowing it out as slowly as he can, the younger cowboy makes eye contact with his uncle, who approaches him until he’s in arm’s reach. He puts his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, gently encouraging the troubled young man to look at him, hoping the touch will ground his nephew.      “You alright?” Bobby asks, the lines in his forehead deepening as he frowns.      Dean swallows down the lump in his throat and nods, his lips pressed together in a firm line. He can’t speak and has to break away from his uncle’s observant gaze. Bobby’s grip loosens; he’s aware that Dean isn’t ready to expose his true feelings about this unfortunate run-in.      “I’m gonna make sure he leaves the premises,” he assures.      With those words, the man - who once again has provided him safety - turns away to follow John, committed to matching action with his words if the guy doesn’t take his threat seriously. 

     Finally alone, the unsettled cowboy tries to inhale again, but his diaphragm seems to have risen to chest height. He can feel anxiety like he has never experienced before in his adult life get a grip on him, and whatever he tries, he can’t stop it. Afraid that his legs might give way, he takes a step to the side and holds on to one of the stable bars, but he still can’t breathe. Unable to hold the frontline in the battle he’s fighting with the overwhelming sense of distress, the tears break through his defense, spilling down his cheeks. Suddenly, he feels sick. He needs to get out, he needs fresh air.

     Feeling the bile creeping up from deep inside him as he stumbles outside, he quickly turns the corner behind the tent before he heaves this morning’s partly digested breakfast into the grass. He throws up everything he has been holding, hoping the anguish will leave his body as well, but it doesn’t. When his stomach is empty, he is still left with the same misery.      “Fuck,” he chokes out, steadying himself against the steel corner pillar of the stable.      He wipes at his runny nose and his tears, sniffling. Get a hold of yourself, Dean, he lectures, you need to keep it together now. He straightens his back, looking down at the mess he made, closing his eyes for a second as he pulls in a careful breath. 

     “Dean?”      Recognizing his friend’s voice, the cowboy turns around. Benny stands behind him, worry in his clear blue eyes. Manning up and finding his footing again, Dean walks up to meet him. The Southerner hands him a bottle of water, and even though the receiver is thankful for having something to rinse his mouth with, he wishes it to be something a whole lot stronger.

     Taking a swig, he lets it wash away the sour taste before he spits it onto the ground. After another attempt he realizes that it’s no use and takes a careful sip this time, swallowing it down to put out the fire inside his chest. He glances at Benny, giving him a nod.      “I - I’m good,” he says, not just trying to convince his companion. “I’m good.”

     Knowing him well, his best friend doesn’t contradict him, even though it’s clear as day the statement is far from the truth. Dean’s eyes are bloodshot, his hand trembling when he moves the bottle to his mouth.      “You might wanna get to the warm-up,” Benny reminds him, handing him the headset.      The wrangler grimaces. “Shit, yeah. What time is it?”      “Two-thirty. Her starting time is in twenty-five minutes,” the Southerner says.      “I gotta get goin’,” Dean realizes after cursing again, moving past him to make his way to the arena. He holds up the water bottle as he jogs away. “Thanks.”

     Hoping his friend will understand that he’s thanking him for a lot more than just the drink, he hastens away. Right now, he has someone else who needs his support. Y/N has left the stables well over fifteen minutes ago, so he hopes she’s not nervous because of his late arrival. When he finally reaches the fence, he spots her amongst the other riders, warming up Joplin. He can tell she’s focused, or is she upset with him for not being on time? Finding it hard to read her from a distance, he sums it up to a mixture of both. Without disturbing the other competitors, he bends down to duck under the barrier, approaching her and her horse. But when she ignores him completely and continues to work the Quarter on a small circle, he hesitates. 

     “Y/N?” he calls out, not sure if she saw him from inside her bubble.      “What?” she snaps.      Taken aback by her reaction, he watches how she keeps circling, slowing down to a walk, but still not stopping to take the headset or even grant him a look.      “C’mon, let me help you,” he ushers, holding up the device for her.      But when she looks him in the eye, the coldness they behold frightens him. “Why do you even care?” she wonders. “I’m ‘just an intern’ anyway.”

     Like she just slapped him across the face, Dean stares at the cowgirl, the daggers she’s shooting at him with her powerful gaze stabbing him right in the heart. No no no, he thinks to himself as he closes his eyes. She wasn’t supposed to hear him say that to his father. He labeled her as an intern only to make sure John wouldn’t be able to get to Dean through his girlfriend. Of course he didn’t mean a word of it! He has to make her understand.      “Yankee, I’m sorry. I--”      “Forget it, Dean. I can handle myself,” she snarls. “Leave me alone.”

     With that, she moves away from her boyfriend, riding Joplin to the other side of the warm-up ring, as far from him as possible. Regretful, her trainer saunters back towards the fence, making his way out of the ring. When he straightens himself, he is met by Jo, who has her arms crossed in front of her chest as she narrows her eyes at her cousin. It’s clear as day that she’s about to rip him a new one as well.      “What did you do?” she demands to know, sternly.

     Dean looks at her, opening his mouth to answer, but unable to even utter a word. I fucked up, that’s what I did, he realizes. Like he has fucked up everything else that was ever good in his life. He doesn’t reply, though, and instead shakes his head, admitting his loss.      “Here.” Dean hands her the small device with a microphone attached to it, his fingers still trembling. “Help her if she needs assistance, alright?”      Perplexed, she watches him walk off. She at least expected a counter with a claim that he didn’t do anything wrong.      “You’re not gonna even watch her ride?” she asks before he’s too far gone.      “I’ll watch from the bleachers. I don’t wanna distract her,” he returns, sadly looking into her eyes before he carries on.

     Observing her cousin, an uneasy feeling settles in her stomach. The guilt is oozing from him in great amounts as he disappears in the crowd, his head hanging, the usual upbeat attitude nowhere to be found. What has gotten into him? Something must have happened, something bad. She can’t recall the last time she has seen him this troubled, not since… Jo’s eyes grow a little larger, her brows that were knitted together a moment ago now rising. Suddenly it dawns on her; she hasn’t seen him so thrown into disarray since he arrived at the ranch at fourteen years of age. She might have been only eight at the time, but those memories lingered. The sight of a kid so scared, so depressed, and so broken left an impression. Even as a little girl she knew he had been through hell, and by the looks of her cousin now, it seems like those dark days are catching up with him.

     Jo wants to go after the poor guy, but she knows she can’t abandon her best friend. When the steward calls out Y/N’s name, announcing she’s up next, she focuses on the rider again. Right now she is her main priority, because whatever happened between the intern and the wrangler, Jo knows she’s Dean’s priority too.

     “Ready?” she checks while quickly drying Joplin with a towel before they head towards the gate.      “Yeah, I am,” Y/N assures, pushing Dean from her thoughts.      “Remember that it’s fine to pick your first cow from the side of the herd, okay? Don’t set the bar too high. It’s your first time,” the blonde cowgirl offers.      “I know,” she assures, even though she’s not planning on playing it safe.

     The frustration has morphed into determination, a strong will to prove that she can manage just fine and that Bobby has every reason to dote on her. She much rather feels aggravated than insecure, so she allows the anger to flood the worry, shutting out her usual insecurity. She’s not going to let anyone down, especially not herself. 

     Concentrated, she goes to the gate, eye for the prize. Joplin already has her ears perked towards the cattle, knowing it’s game time. The clock starts to tick, and with confidence, she guides Joplin through the group of heifers, picking one dead in the middle to single out.

     She doesn’t know Dean is watching from the sidelines, and intense sadness filling his soul. She doesn’t know how proud he is when she makes two amazing cuts and she scores 73 points, outclassing him. She doesn’t know that he’s very much aware that his girl doesn’t need him anymore.

     Swift strokes brush the dirt out of Joplin’s dark coat. Dust particles dance in the air, illuminated by the orange rays of the setting sun that fall through the window of the stable. The mare allows the pampering, on hindleg resting on its toe, her head hanging low. Big, brown eyes are half closed, falling shut every once in a while. Sleep almost taking the normally feisty horse, the grooming having a relaxing effect on her. It’s almost as if she realizes she’s about to go on a new adventure, and she’s taking this moment to recharge after her run.

     Jody has matched Joplin with a great family. A sixteen-year-old girl will be riding her. The teenager and her parents came to meet her new horse right after the great performance, absolutely beaming, knowing this wonderful animal was now theirs. In about fifteen minutes, Joplin’s new owners will be here to take her to their farm in Alamo, New Mexico. The family promised to give the Quarter a forever home, and they showed Y/N pictures of the beautiful barn where the little dark horse is going to live. She’s going to a good place, but the farewell remains bittersweet.

     Once the Joplin is thoroughly cleaned, her rider takes her by the halter, raking her fingers through her mane. Y/N has never been good at saying goodbye, but it’s time now.      “Be good, okay?” she whispers, letting her hands gently run down the horse’s neck. “And don’t pin your ears back too much. People are gonna think you’re mean, but I know you’re a softy.”

     Joplin breathes out a sigh through her nose as if answering the person who has been her companion for the past month. It’s peculiar how fast a bond between human and animal can form. There has been a connection between them since the first time Y/N saddled her up for a trail. The thought of buying the beautiful Quarter herself has crossed the cowgirl’s mind ever since she learned Bobby planned to sell her, but no matter how difficult, this is also an aspect of the business that she needs to get used to. When she will finally have her own stables in a year's time, horses will come and go. She can’t keep every one of them, and so she needs to set Joplin free.

     Judging by the hollow sounds under the tent’s roof, the new owners are on their way. She can distinguish Jody’s voice, and Bobby’s too. A girl with long, brown hair and bright eyes peers over the stable door, already glancing at the beautiful horse lovingly.      “I bought her new transport boots,” she announces enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t want her to get hurt on the trailer. I also got a rug for when it gets a little colder during the night. Do you think she will like that?”      The teenager holds up a red, woolen rug, which matches the leg protection perfectly. Y/N chuckles at the sight. Joplin is going to get so spoiled.      “Those look amazing.” She reaches for one of the boots. “Here, let me help.”

     They strap on the protective wear together while Bobby, Jody, and the parents close the deal on the other side of the alleyway. After the money is counted, the ranch owner hands over the horse’s passport together with a certificate of ownership, shaking their hands once more. Y/N waits for her boss to look her way, wondering if he - as owner - should give Joplin away, but the old man gives her a friendly nod, telling her without words that she will have the honor.

     “Well, I guess this is it,” she says, fumbling with the leadrope. “She’s yours now.”      “Thank you,” the young cowgirl returns. “We will take good care of her. Promise.”      Not trusting her voice, the Y/N smiles warmly, but there isn’t a doubt in her mind that the family will. She doesn’t want to get emotional, it wouldn’t be professional after all. And so she does her very best to blink the mist from her eyes when she offers the leadrope, handing over Joplin to her new owner.

     The family who just gained an additional member exits the stables, heading to the trailers to start their journey home. The rider, the trader, and the rancher watch them leave, all with smiles on their faces. Everyone involved in this sale wins. Y/N can’t help it, though, and has to wipe a lonely tear from her cheek. Jody, who notices, wraps an arm around her shoulder, sheltering and comforting.      “Sorry,” the cowgirl excuses, a little embarrassed.      “Don’t be sorry, honey,” she dismisses sweetly. “Caring matters, especially when money comes into play. Someone who cares has far better judgment than someone who’s greedy. Remember that.”      Y/N smiles at the wise words, storing that piece of advice with all the others she has picked up along the way. 

     “Pretty good ride,” Bobby compliments his intern, in his own way trying to cheer her up. “Especially at your first cutting class.”      Jody glances aside at the ranch owner, not impressed with his choice of words, before pulling the cowgirl closer into a side hug. “Pretty good? Are you kidding me? You absolutely slayed it! If you’re not giving that girl a rider’s fee, I will.”      “Oh, that’s really not necessary,” Y/N objects.      “No, you deserve it,” he insists while leafing through the hundred dollar bills in a large envelope.      “Bobby, it’s okay. I am already super grateful for everything I’m learning and the experiences that I’m gaining. You have already given me a room and a stable, not to mention Ellen’s cooking. You really don’t have to pay me.” 

     Y/N shortly places her hand on her boss’s to seize his actions, wanting him to stop counting. The Gold Canyon Ranch might have made good money over the past three days, yet that doesn’t mean a financial disaster is avoided. She doesn’t want a share.      The old man holds her gaze and she can tell he’s wondering if either Dean or Jo have spilled a little too much information. Maybe it is because of that assumption that he settles and lets it go.     “At least lemme buy you a drink, huh?” he offers before he turns to his business partner. “I just have to round a few things up with Jody here.”      “Alright, see you in a bit,” Y/N returns.

     As the two business partners walk off to look for a private place where Bobby can give the woman who has made the sale possible her commissioner’s fee, the cowgirl slips into the tack room. She decides to start packing, since the crew presumingly will leave in a couple of hours. She has to keep busy, but Dean breaks into thoughts straight away. Sighing deeply, the cowgirl tries to wrap her head around her boyfriend’s reasoning. His words, which had her freeze to the ground for a second as she left him with his father, still ring in her ears. She’s just an intern. Why would he say such a thing? Why hadn’t he expressed that she is his girlfriend? Why did he never mention his father to her? And if he isn’t even able to talk to her about his family, what else is he hiding?

     Her train of thought is interrupted by Jo, who hastily rushes around the corner, her restless eyes searching the tack room before she checks the stables.      “Have you seen Dean?” she asks, concerned.      “No,” Y/N bitterly answers.      “Okay, enough.” Jo places her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to one leg. “What the hell is going on with you two?”      “You tell me,” her friend responds coldly. “I was under the impression we were doing just fine until Dean wasn’t even able to introduce me. Clearly, I value our relationship more than he does.”

     “What are you talking about? He’s crazy about you,” the blonde cowgirl reminds her.      “Is he?” Y/N spins on her heels, finally looking her in the eye. “Because for someone who claims to care about me, he sure keeps an awful lot of secrets.”      Jo sighs. “Look, I know Dean isn’t the guy who’s very chatty about those kinds of things, but what makes you say that he doesn’t care?”      “Because he couldn’t even tell his family - who he failed to tell me about, by the way - that I’m his girlfriend! He told his father that I am just an int--”      “Whoa whoa, wait. His father?” Her best friend stares at her bug-eyed, needing a moment to process the information. “His father is here?!”      “Yeah, he showed up in the stables earlier to visit him, before I got on Joplin,” she confirms, somewhat confused by her shocked expression.      Jo steps towards the intern, grabbing both her shoulders and looking at her intensely. “Are you absolutely sure?”      Y/N shrugs a little, not understanding the earnesty. “He looked a lot like Dean, and he called him his son, so I’m assuming.”

     Her best friend just gapes at her, her cousin’s demeanor by the warm-up ring suddenly making much more sense. If he had an encounter with his father, his entire world just got turned upside down. Judging by how messed up he was when his only living parent left him to rot when he was still a child, she can only imagine what his return after all that time has set in motion.

     “We need to find Dean, now,” she says, grabbing her friend by the wrist and pulling her out of the tack room. “I’ll explain along the way.”      Unsettled, Y/N fastens her pace to jog next to the ranch owner’s daughter. “Jo, what’s going on?”      “Dean didn’t lie to you when he said that he hadn’t seen his family in a while. In fact, the two haven’t been in contact for fifteen years,” she explains as they exit the stables.

     Stunned by the revelation, the cowgirl next to her tries to make sense of it all. Fifteen years? Why would he have cut all ties with his dad for fifteen years? She can’t possibly imagine doing such a thing. Something horrible must have happened, something beyond comprehension.      “That still doesn’t explain why he described me as anything else but his girlfriend,” Y/N  brings up.      “Listen, you don’t know John. He is a manipulative son of a bitch who has played dirty mind games before. If Dean let on that you were just someone working at the ranch, he was trying to protect you.”      Y/N stops dead in her tracks, her hand which is still entwined with Jo’s causing her friend to spin around. “He w - what?” 

     “You need to talk to him,” her friend insists, dragging her into motion again. “My guess is that he found a place to be alone or he’s liquoring up. Either way, your man is spiraling out of control and he's gonna need his girl in order to get out of that vicious circle.”      “He - he won’t talk to me,” she stammers. “Not after how I was with him before my run. God, I can’t believe I was so self-absorbed. I thought he didn’t want me there because he was embarrassed of me, and you’re telling me he was making sure I was safe?”

     Jo wishes her companion wouldn’t put herself down like that, because the blonde cowgirl honestly gets why she reacted the way she did, being unaware of the family drama. She never thought the day would come, but here she is, defending her cousin’s honor.

     “Like I said; he’s crazy about you, Sis. He has never been like this with somebody else, so if there’s anyone who can through to him it’s you. He might try to--”      “- push me away, I know. That’s kind of his thing. I won’t let him,” Y/N promises.      Jo nods at that, glad she was able to convince her. “Good, now we just have to find him.”

     They arrive at the square where all the shops are situated, most of the stand holders packing their unsold products into cars and onto trailers. The sun has disappeared behind the horizon, the skies painted with red. There are a few people around, music coming from the tent further up where the after-party is in full swing. They meet Benny at the crossing, though, who is looking for his friend as well.      “Have you seen him?” Y/N asks the farrier, who has the same worried frown on his face as the girls.      “I tried the trailers, but no luck,” Benny says. “Stables?”      But she shakes her head. “We were just there.”

     The three glance aside when a group of young guys stumbles out of the tent, alternated colored beams in their wake, coming from the disco lights inside. The concern that has Jo’s intestines in knots worsens, because if Dean has hit the bar, reasoning with him is going to be problematic. 

     Y/N enters the tent, backed up by the other two members of the Gold Canyon Ranch. The band plays a happy, upbeat country song that contradicts the alarming anxiety and dread that is riding her nerves like a racetrack. Frantically, she looks around, trying to identify her boyfriend amongst the crowd. She doesn’t see him in the booths on her right, nor around the dancefloor which she and Dean owned two nights prior. Once she convinces him that she understands why he said those things and that he did nothing wrong, she can wrap her arms around him again, comfort him with a kiss and ask him for another dance. He can continue to be the wonderful, supportive boyfriend, making her laugh and making her smile, lifting her up and making her feel appreciated. They can go back to how things were.

     Trying to convince herself that everything is going to be fine, she moves through the mass of people towards the beer taps, when she stops suddenly, the wind being knocked from her lungs by the sight in front of her. At the end of the bar, she finds Dean. Not nursing a beer, sad and alone like she expected to find him, but in company of the same girl who was all over him on Friday night as well; Jamie. The cowboy, already intoxicated, leaning into her when the blonde whispers something in his ear, touching his arm as she does. A blind man would be able to see the chemistry, their conversation easy and carefree. The beautiful girl seated on the stool next to her boyfriend doesn’t show a sign of insecurity, her cheerful and confident personality matching Dean’s perfectly. She is everything Y/N isn’t.

     Unable to move, she watches the film play out before her, a story of fun and romance that will push her story with Dean to a tragic end. Tears begin to fill her eyes, her breath hitching in her throat. A part of her hopes that he will turn around and see the devastation that his actions are causing, but he doesn’t, occupied by the gorgeous old flame which seems to have ignited something new. He doesn’t even see me, she realizes. He doesn’t see her, because once again it has been made perfectly clear she’s not worth holding on to. That has always been the case whenever it came to love, hasn’t it? So why on earth did she think that with Dean it was going to be any different? And just like that, she’s back to being invisible again. 

     Abruptly, Y/N turns around, desperately needing to get out of the buzzing atmosphere, but she collides with Jo the second she does.      “Woah! Where are you--” Jo steadies her friend when she almost falls over, holding her by her arms. Stunned, she stares into her eyes, noticing how they are glazed over with absolute heartbreak. “What’s going on?”

     But Y/N just shakes her head, moving past her hastily; she can’t stay here a second longer. The upset girl struggles towards the exit and ignores Benny, who watches her departure, perplexed. When he straightens himself again, he glances at Jo, as much confusion on his features as on hers. But when his focus locks on his buddy at the bar, his face falls.      “That son of a bitch,” he mutters, his remark triggering the blonde cowgirl before him to turn around as well.

     Jo’s jaw falls slack, observing as the two order another round of shots. She can’t believe what she’s seeing. She can’t believe she’s witnessing the man who she thought had made a change for the better, now making a turn for the worse. Frustration boils inside of the petite yet feisty woman, who is biting down hard on her bottom lip when she faces Benny again.      “You talk some sense into him before he really crosses the line,” she directs. “I’m gonna go after Y/N and see if I can repair the damage.”

     The broad-shouldered wrangler nods and watches Jo take off before he goes in the other direction. He pushes through the mass of people who are enjoying the last party of the event, all oblivious to the dramatic scene they are all a part of. He senses that the drama might become a whole lot worse if he doesn’t manage to pull Dean’s head off his ass.

     “What do you think you’re doin’, brother?” Benny claps his hand on his friend’s shoulder, interrupting him before he downs the shot waiting for him on the bar.      He scoffs. “What does it look like?”      “Seems to me you’re about to get a lil’ too friendly with a gal that ain’t yours,” the farrier says with a lowered voice, hoping it will enlighten him.      “We’re just having a drink,” Dean counters, annoyed, reaching for the glass in front of him, but Benny pushes it out of reach.      “Do you think that’s what Y/N saw too when she was here just now?”      Now he does get the cowboy’s attention, common sense finally pushing to the forefront. “She was here?” he questions, dumbfounded.      “Yep, and you’ve got somethin’ to fix. Let’s go,” Benny suggests, his large hand flat on his companion’s back calmly pushing him off the chair and onto his feet, both men giving Jamie a short nod before they leave the party.

     The fresh air slaps Dean in the face when he exits the tent, sobering him up enough to realize how bad he screwed up. He knew it was a horrible idea to do the one thing his dad always did when the pain got too much to bear; hit the alcohol and drown his sorrow. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? No matter how hard he fights, no matter how different he aspires to be, he will always be just like his father. The same ego-centric, selfish and spineless dick that breaks everything he touches. 

     When the two men stop in the middle of the square, Benny looks around, trying to find the girls. He doesn’t spot them sitting at any of the outside tables, nor by the restrooms.      “It don’t matter, I already fucked it up anyway,” Dean mutters when his friend glances between the market shops.      The farrier pauses his search and gazes at him superciliously through half-lidded eyes. “No disrespect, Chief, but what the hell is wrong with you?”      “You really want me to get started on that list? Because if so, we’re gonna be here for a while,” the wrangler returns snarky, avoiding his friend’s blue eyes, taking a few steps away with his hands on his hips.      “John showing up here is not y—”      “Don’t!” Dean interrupts with venom in his voice, spinning around and pointing a firm finger at Benny. “Don’t you dare bring up my father.”

     He’s trembling, the anger that ran in John’s blood for years now raging through his veins. Fire sets alight his insides, flames dancing in his pupils that glare at his comrade warningly. The Southerner takes a tentative step towards him, realizing he needs to get through to Dean, but has to handle the subject as carefully as possible.      “You are not him. I know this,” he speaks slow. “I know you love Y/N, too.”

     But Dean scoffs and shakes his head, not just denying that he does, but refusing to allow himself that kind of fulfillment. He was stupid to even think that he ever had a chance with her. It was just a matter of time before it all would come crashing down on him, ruining everything that he never deserved in the first place. He can’t love her, because if he does, she will fall victim to him, just like he did to his dad.

     “Listen, brother. You’re not seein’ straight right now, but you can still make this right,” Benny continues. “You care too much about her to just throw in the towel. Remember when she first came to the ranch? You were smitten the second she walked through those doors. You called dibs on her for a reason.”

     The cowboy’s shoulders rise as he inhales deeply and fall again when he blows out a breath. Of course he remembers. He remembers the first time he laid eyes on her over his poker cards, how she responded to him from across the saloon. He remembers how she gave him a run for his money when he came on too strong. He remembers how he panicked when she didn’t seem interested and the idea of her being with someone else had him strike an agreement with his best mate. He remembers the rides, their first kiss, the moment i--      “You called dibs on me?”

     Stunned by the unexpected voice, both men turn to where it came from. Benny gulps thickly when he notices Y/N stepping from under the awning of one of the food trucks, Jo in her shadow. Even in the dim glow from the overhanging strings of lightbulbs, he can see her eyes shimmer with despair.      “Y/N, it ain’t as bad as it s--”      But the cowgirl cuts him off immediately, shooting Benny a glare. “You can stop with the Southern smooth talk. I need to talk to Dean alone.”

     After exchanging looks over the course of several uncomfortable seconds, both Benny and Jo step aside, sauntering away from the couple. Once their friends have disappeared behind one of the trailers, Y/N returns her focus to her boyfriend again, her judgemental stare boring into his soul.      “I asked you a question,” she repeats, managing to prevent her voice from trembling. “Did you make some kind of pact with your buddies?”

     Dean doesn’t answer, but he sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble. He lifts his eyes from the ground for a moment, glancing over before he averts them again. The woman standing a few feet away from him chuckles cynically; she knows enough.

     “So what, women are like cattle to you? This is a funny bet?”      The cowboy frustratingly shakes his head once. “You know it’s not.”      “Do I?!” Y/N returns, her tone sharper and higher than anticipated. “Because if this isn’t just a game, then why did you shove me aside for some blonde broad--”      “For fuck’s sake, we were just having a drink! We had this argument already!” Dean snaps, throwing his arms to the side.

     Taken aback by the hostility, Y/N stares at him. She has seen this anger before, but just a glimpse of it. It was when Ash lost his job and blamed them, in particular Dean, who took the acquisitions hard. That evening it was mostly guilt that triggered the cowboy to lash out to her and the second he realized he had upset her, he apologized. But now an apology doesn’t even seem to cross his mind that is clouded by darkness far greater. At this point, she’s not sure if she would be able to accept it anyway.

     “Well, it didn’t make much of a difference, now did it?” she returns after using the dreadful silence to recover.      “Apparently not,” Dean scoffs, shifting his unfocused gaze aside.      Mulling over the chain of events that have led to this moment, he swallows with difficulty, indignation taking off the heat for a bit, stopping it from boiling over. The calm gives Y/N enough courage to step closer.      “Dean, I know today was a whirlwind. I know - I’m aware that what happened in the stables earlier has sent you into a tailspin,” she sympathizes, careful not to mention his father after witnessing his outburst with Benny when he did, “but this isn’t you.”

     The disheartened guy before her huffs again, sardonic and hopeless. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Because it’s exactly who he is. This is who he was always destined to be. It’s how he was raised, it’s in his DNA. For two months he allowed himself to hope that maybe he could change, that maybe he could be better than the poor excuse of a man his father was. Y/N gave him that pipe dream, and even though it’s unreasonable to be upset with her for seeing the good in him, it’s amongst one of the many frustrations he’s experiencing. 

     “It is. This -” Dean points at himself, his upper lip twitching with disgust. “- this is who I am.”      She shakes her head, not ready to give up. “It’s not. You are kind, loving, your heart is--”      “You don’t know me!” He exclaims, running a hand through his hair and trapping the light-brown locks between his fingers before he gestures wildly. “You think you do, but you don’t have a fucking clue! I haven’t told you anything about my life--”      “Then talk to me!” Y/N yells back as he turns away from her.      “I CAN’T!!” 

     Dean is facing her again, vexation flaring in his emerald green eyes. His heart beats so vigorously that it has his entire body pulsating. He takes her in, the beautiful young woman who he fell for, and he can see that her hope is fading. It pains him to hurt her, but he’s left with no choice. Being angry with him will make things easier, though. It will help her move on. If she is going to feel sorry for him, the pity would only prompt the caring girl to hold on and try to piece the shattered shards back together, and he can’t let that happen, simply because it’s useless. He refuses to take her down with him, to burden her with the same demons that he has to live with. He can’t do that to her, not to the one he loves. She’s way too good for him, so pure, so selfless and gentle. She’s everything he shouldn’t have, everything he isn’t worthy of. It’s better this way, it’s better to end it now. 

     “I can’t. Who you think I am, it’s not me. I’ve been lying to you, pretending. I can’t be the person you need me to be,” he claims, calmer now that he knows what he has to do.

     Y/N’s breathing picks up slightly, the air leaving her with a shudder each time. His words seem so definite already, but he can’t possibly believe that they are not right for each other, can he? All those moments they shared, all the affection he offered; that was real. That was him. Why can’t he see he’s exactly the man she needs?      “And what person is that?” she questions, hoping that whatever argument he fires back, she can turn around.

     Dean is quiet for a few seconds, thinking about a fitting answer. The profound fondness he feels for her begins to resurface and it’s tearing him apart. She needs to understand that the fairytale they have been living is a facade he can’t continue to maintain. Dreams never last forever, this is where they wake up.      “You need a guy who is honest, who you can trust. Look at us; I can’t even bring myself to tell you about my family, my past, or anything for that matter,” he reminds her.      “I knew what I was in for, Dean. I don’t expect you to spill every dark secret you think you have. You don’t have to spell out everything to be with me. We can work it out!” she argues desperately.      But the cowboy shakes his head, feeling the sorrow brim in his eyes. He wants her to be right so bad, but he knows he can’t live a lie.      “You don’t get it, okay? I’m a fucking mess. I did things that are unforgivable. I don’t have my shit together, but you do,” he says, a sad smile barely pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You know exactly where you wanna go in life, what you want to achieve.”      She steps closer, praying that if he lets her, she can eventually bridge the space between them.      “We can do that together,” she pleads with all the hope she has left.      “We can’t,” he returns, having gathered every bit of strength to look at her before he pronounces the words who he knows are the truth. “This isn’t gonna work.” 

     The tears that have gathered become too much even for a dam to withhold roll down her cheeks now. An already unbearable ache gets worse, her heart physically hurting and taking up so much space that Y/N feels like she can’t breathe. He can’t be doing this. He can’t pull the plug, not after all the epic moments they shared. Every warm look, every gentle touch, every loving kiss; every blissful memory. How can he possibly let go of that?      Refusal has her reach out to him, one last attempt to repair what is already broken. “Dean, stop… Why are you hurting me like this?” she cries.

     The cowboy drops his gaze while fighting the tears and the grief for what he’s losing. He wants to reach out too, take her hand in his, but he can’t cave now, he can’t be selfish. He has to do this for her.      “Because if I don’t, if I allow this to go any further, it’s gonna hurt a lot more.”      Dean fixates on anything but Y/N, no longer able to endure the sight of her falling apart in front of him. It’s dreadfully quiet as if the world stopped turning, and in a way, for the two individuals in the middle of the square, it just did.      “So - so what? This is it?” she stammers, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re breaking up with me?”      Biting his lip now, he focuses on what this decision will offer the woman at arm’s reach. An uncomplicated life in which she can pursue her dreams without having to worry about someone dragging her down. She can be free to do whatever she wishes and that’s all he can ask for. But in order to provide her with that opportunity, he has to let her go.      “Yeah. We’re over.”

     Like a bullet fired from a gun, the defining words rip through her chest and pierce her heart. The silence after the shot is deafening, canceling out the sounds of their surroundings. The streaming pathways of desolation gather at the end of her chin and drip down on the dry soil, enough to darken the dust. Her eyes are glued on him, though, but he doesn’t return her gaze. The conclusion of their relationship sinks in with every passing second, leaving her soul in ruins. It’s over. They are over. And there is nothing she can do to change the course of history.

     Unable to be in his presence, she forces her feet to move, turning away from the man she is no longer with. Dean can’t watch her leave, fixed on the dark earth where her tears fell just moments ago. From his peripheral vision, he notices Jo rushing by to go after her friend. Good, he thinks to himself, she’ll have someone to lean on. 

     After standing there for what feels like an hour, he takes a few hesitant steps towards one of the trailers, placing both hands flat on the metal, searching for something to ground him while he closes his eyes and lets his head hang. He can’t find it, though, not in the cold steel, not in his reasoning behind this brutal decision. The resentment builds again, and Dean pulls his right hand back, balls his fist, and almost puts a dent into the barrier before him. The action only confirms what he deep down knew to be true all along. All that rage, the self-hatred; he can’t bottle it up forever, so it’s for the best that Y/N will no longer be there to witness it. 

     Dean bends his elbows, his forearms now pressed against the iron and his forehead resting between his clenching fists, as he struggles to pull in a shaky breath. He feels like he’s imploding, the outer frame of his structure caving in on itself. His mouth falls open, his bottom lip trembling, then he allows the tears to cascade down his face. 

     He can sense Benny by his side, but Dean is too wrapped up in his own destruction to really acknowledge him. The comforting hand on his shoulder is a touch he barely registers, his body is already rebuilding its emotional walls, caging away his ability to feel and casting it in a permanent shadow. That’s where it will remain, encapsulated in darkness, cut out from the light that his girl had to give. Benny stays by his side, though, letting him know that he is there for his friend, as much as Jo is there for hers. 

     “Sis, wait,” the ranch owner’s daughter tries desperately, following the woman who just had her heart broken into the stables.      Her request remains unanswered, Y/N only stopping when she has reached Meadow’s box, her hands shaking while she tries to unlock the door. When she’s unable to, Jo quickly steps in and opens the gate, holding it for her companion. The bay horse has lifted her head, alerted by the commotion in the alley, but clearly recognizes the person stepping inside. She seems confused by her owner’s frail state of mind, though, pricked ears and concerned eyes taking in the situation. 

     The cowgirl folds an arm around Meadow’s neck while she buries her face in the Quarter’s brown coat, then she breaks. She breaks into a million segments, lost in the mixture of wood shavings and straw underneath their feet. The air is too thin to breathe and sobs wreck her entire form. 

     Never in her life has she felt so unwanted, purposeless, and vulnerable as she’s feeling now. Dean let her in and she trusted him to handle her with grace, yet the second she was comfortable with this new way of being, he pushed her out. She thought she knew the man she felt such a strong connection with. Yes, she realized very early on that it was going to be difficult to get through to him. The soldier with thick armor had stacked the barricades high, but that never intimidated her. After all, she had climbed mountains before. 

     She gave Dean her all, but in the end, it turns out it was useless. Y/N isn’t even sure what’s real and what’s not, if the cowboy has been wearing a mask all along, or just now turned into someone that he isn’t. It doesn’t matter, though. He has made himself perfectly clear; she is not the girl he wants to be with.

     The only one stopping her from collapsing is Meadow, who holds still like a statue, aware that if she moves, her owner will fall to the ground and might never be able to get up again. The horse senses exactly how to handle Y/N, the usually so spirited mare now timid and calm, picking up on the despairing energy. 

     Jo, who had silently slipped into the tack box to get a bottle of water and some tissues, comes back into the stable, tearing up at the sight of the two who have such a strong bond. The thousand-pound animal has curved her neck around her human, resting her large head on the cowgirl’s shoulder. As if trying to comfort her, Meadow twitches her lips, gently rubbing them against her owner’s back, her way of showing affection. People can be cruel sometimes, to others, to horses. Jo has witnessed it, and she knows Dean has too, which has ultimately led to his dreadful decision to cut Y/N loose, and by doing so he has hurt her in terrible ways himself. But at least the girl has her horse.

     Meadow, who is oblivious to the reason behind her owner’s sorrow, offers solace nonetheless. Quietly, she waits until the cries die down and the tears begin to dry, and even then she stays close to her person, having a better sense of direction than most humans do. Y/N’s four-legged friend is honest, treats her with kindness, and loves her unconditionally. It’s a special connection no man can ever steal away, yet many can learn from. This incredible being is her soul horse, a term Dean has taught her, the one who she thought was going to be her partner in life until he decided otherwise. He is right, though; it is over between them. She has lost Dean’s heart, but at the end of the day, no matter what happens, she will always have Meadow.

That’s that then. They are over...

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-five here