#i wonder if he ever got brave or was scared forever

[moghedien]

every now and then I think about the one guy that was in my women's literature class in college who never started shit and would occasionally participate in discussions but didn't really do much besides answer basic questions and whatnot, and no one really paid him mind and it was barely acknowledged that he was the only guy in the class with like 30 girls. and one day he showed up in one of those "menimism" shirts (this was back when those were a thing) and he walked in so proud and participated more than usual and was like arrogantly smiling the whole time but NO ONE even acknowledged that he was wearing that shirt or acted any different when he was talking and he never wore it again and barely participated after that. I think about that dude a lot and what was going on in his head

[whyanne4]

Money Power Glory

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Category: Mafia! au

Part: 1/?

Word Count: 3k

Summary: When you accidentally found yourself in the middle of a mafia show down you had no idea that your life was about to change, forever. For better or for worse.

Masterlist

The smell of the sea reached your nostrils as you strolled along the harbor of Monaco. You couldn’t help but feel amazed at the sight and couldn’t believe your luck that you got to move to a place like this. You’d just gotten accepted to the university of Monaco and moved into your little apartment right outside the beautiful country mere hours ago. The yachts that decorated the water were like out of a dream and you felt yourself daydream about owning one sometime in the distant future.

The hours went by and you decided that you would walk back to your apartment before it got too dark. You took your phone out of your purse only to find it dead. 

“Damn it!” You swore as you shoved your phone back in your bag. How were you supposed to find your apartment now? You had forgotten the address and your plan of just opening the pinned location on google maps won’t work now. 

‘How hard can it be?’ You thought to yourself as you decided to try and find your way home based on memory. The streets of Monaco were hard to navigate and you found yourself completely lost. You took a left turn, hoping for the best. You walked quietly along the street when you heard a man raise his voice followed by what sounded like more men arguing. 

You tried to make yourself ready to run in case the men were a threat. You decided  that continuing to walk to get yourself away from the situation was the best choice. The fact that your phone was dead weighed heavily on your mind. If the men were to attack you’d have no way of alerting anyone. 

The voices got louder as you walked and when you turned the corner you saw four men arguing. It looked like it was serious based on their tense stances, ready to fight. 

“Fuck you Leclerc. You think you’re so fucking powerful just because you inherited the biggest mob of Monaco and France from daddy huh? Well guess what? Daddy isn’t here anymore” The first man said as he and his friends cornered this “Leclerc” guy. You resisted the urge to gasp, not wanting to make a sound. This was the mafia. If anyone knew you were here you’d be in big trouble.

“You think I’m scared of you Bassett? I have more money and resources then you could ever dream of. And not to mention balls. Cornering me with two other men as I leave the casino is not what I would consider brave” The second man spoke arrogantly even if it was clear that he was at a disadvantage seeing as they were three against one. 

“I don’t need balls to do this.” You wondered what he ment but your questions were soon answered as you heard the click of a gun.

“You’re a fucking pussy you know that right?” Leclerc spoke, still calm as ever. “You owe me millions and instead of paying me back you’re going to shoot me? You know, it sounds to me as if you’re not as rich as you claim to be Mr. Bassett."  You didn't have the time to process his words before four gunshots were heard and three bodies fell to the ground. 

You yelped, you didn’t mean to but you couldn’t help it, the gunshots took you by surprise.

“Who’s there?” The man, Leclerc, was still standing above the three corpses and he was looking right into your eyes. His intense stare sent shivers up your spine. He started to walk towards you with determined steps.

‘So this is how I die?’ You think to yourself as he approaches you. You close your eyes, ready to feel the pain of a bullet but before you feel anything you hear the man collapse. You open your eyes and look at him, he’s on one knee, branching himself against the wall to stay upright. As you look closely you see a pool of red blood form on his white button up shirt. You watch in horror as it grows, a bullet must’ve hit him. Despite how afraid of this man you were you couldn’t let him die here.

“Are you okay sir? You asked quietly as you slowly approached him. The only response you got was a groan. You knelt beside him and took off your cardigan and pressed it to the wound. 

���Okay I think you need to lay down on your back.” You told him as you felt him become unstable. He did as you told him to and groaned when he had to move but didn’t complain. You reached for your phone to call an ambulance but remembered that it didn’t have any charge left.  “Do you have a phone? I need to call the ambulance” You asked the brunette in front of you. 

“Front left pocket.” He grumbled and you reached into his pocket. You quickly called the ambulance who told you that they were on their way and told you to keep him conscious and to keep pressure on the wound.

“So I have to keep you awake.” You started talking with him, deciding that it was the best way to keep him from blacking out. “Um… I’m Y/N.” You said, not having any idea of what to talk about.

“Charles” He said in a raspy voice.

‘Damn he’s kinda hot’ you thought as you got a closer look of him, his piercing green eyes looking into yours made your mind all fuzzy. ‘Fuck, Y/N concentrate’ you snapped out of your trance to focus on the task at hand.

“Um… so you want to tell me what just happened?” You ask him to try and get him to continue talking. It was probably a stupid question because if he was really in the mafia he wouldn’t tell you, a random girl, about it.

But it seemed as if bleeding out loosened his lips because he told you everything. How the leader of another mod owed him millions of euros and refused to pay him back. Instead cornered him after a night out.

Charles winced in pain as he continued to speak, his voice strained but determined. "You see, Y/N, this city might look like a paradise on the surface, but beneath it all, there's a constant power struggle. My family has been deeply involved in this world for generations, and sometimes, conflicts like these are inevitable."

You listened intently, both to his words and to the distant sound of approaching sirens. Time was of the essence, and you had to keep him conscious until help arrived.

Charles took shallow breaths, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're a brave one, you know that? Most people would have run away screaming. But you stayed and helped me. Why?"

You shrugged, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through you. "I couldn't just leave you here," you replied, pressing the cardigan against his wound a little firmer. "We're all human, right?" You tried to lighten the mood by sending him a reassuring smile.

He nodded in agreement, wincing at the pain. "You have a kind heart, Y/N. I've seen too much darkness in this world."

“Try not to move” You put your free hand on his forehead and gently laid his head back onto the ground.  

As you continued to apply pressure to his wound, Charles delved deeper into the complexities of his life. He talked about the struggles of maintaining power in a world where alliances were fragile, trust was scarce, and violence was always lurking in the shadows.

Sirens grew closer, their wailing an urgent reminder of the impending arrival of help. You could hear the paramedics getting closer.

Charles managed a faint smile, his green eyes softer now. "You, Y/N, might have just saved my life. And that's no small feat in this world. I owe you a debt of gratitude."

You chuckled nervously, unsure of how to respond. "Well, I hope you recover quickly. And maybe consider... finding a less dangerous line of work?"

Charles chuckled, though it quickly turned into a cough, and he winced. "I wish it were that simple, Y/N. But in my world, things are never straightforward."

As the paramedics arrived and took over, you stepped back to give them space, watching as they worked swiftly to stabilize Charles. He was whisked away on a stretcher, disappearing into the back of the ambulance.

One of the paramedics approached you, asking for your account of what happened. You recounted the events as best as you could, leaving out the more sensitive details about Charles's life. You didn't want to be involved any more deeply than you already were.

After the ambulance sped away, you were left standing there, alone on the dimly lit street. The adrenaline began to fade, and the reality of your situation hit you. You were still lost in an unfamiliar city, and now, you had a surreal encounter with the local mafia to add to your list of experiences.

With a sigh, you decided to try and find your way back to your apartment once more, this time determined to ask for directions if needed. You couldn't help but replay the events in your mind as you walked. Monaco had revealed a darker side to itself, one you never expected when you first arrived in this glamorous city.

Little did you know that your chance encounter with Charles Leclerc would set in motion a series of events that would entangle you further in the secrets and intrigues of Monaco, a world far removed from the idyllic facade it presented to the world.

Two months later you find yourself getting ready for a charity event for the university. From your understanding, some very influential business owner was hosting this gala in order to bring more funding to the school. You, alongside 24 other students, had been selected to attend this event. 

‘I really hate to mingle.’ You think as you exit the cab in your floor length blue dress. 

The night air was cool and carried a salty tang as you stepped out of the cab, the lights of the venue beckoning you. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the mingling and socializing you were about to endure. It wasn't your favorite activity, but you knew it was necessary, an invaluable opportunity to network with some of Monaco’s elite.

As you entered the venue, the opulence of the event struck you. The ceilings were adorned with crystal chandeliers, the walls draped in luxurious fabrics, and there was an air of sophistication that seemed to hang in the atmosphere. It was clear that this was a gathering of the wealthy and influential.

You began to navigate the room, attempting to strike up conversations with various attendees. Many were donors or businesspeople, keen on discussing their ventures and achievements. While you were polite and engaged in the discussions, your mind kept drifting back to that fateful night with Charles and the encounter with the mafia.

It was a blurry line between the glamorous facade of Monaco's elite and the hidden, dangerous world that lurked in its shadows. You wondered how many of these seemingly respectable individuals were involved in the kind of underworld you had witnessed that night.

Just as you were lost in your thoughts, a familiar voice broke through. "Hello beautiful”

Startled, you turned to see none other than Charles Leclerc standing before you, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit. He offered you a polite smile, his earlier wounds seemingly healed, at least physically. The surprise of seeing him here, at this event, momentarily left you speechless.

"Hi," you managed to reply despite your initial shock, a little flustered as you offered him a smile. "I didn't expect to see you here," you spoke, attempting to break the ice.

"I would say the same about you but then I’d be lying" Charles remarked, his eyes probing yet gentle. "I hosted this event to find you. You've been on my mind since that night."

“You’re the host?” You exclaimed, eyes wide at this knowledge. “Why?”

“As I said. You’ve been on my mind every day for the last two months.” He admitted, his gaze was intense as he searched your eyes for a reaction.

“How did you know where I go to school? All you knew was my first name” You questioned him.

“I have my ways” He said nonchalantly.

You couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions—surprise, curiosity, and a lingering unease. Charles Leclerc, the enigmatic figure you had encountered that fateful night, had hosted this prestigious event specifically to find you. It was a revelation that left you both intrigued and cautious.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect to see you again after that night," you confessed, still trying to wrap your head around the situation. "And hosting this event to find me? That's quite... unusual."

Charles chuckled softly, his charm as captivating as ever. "Unusual, perhaps, but when something captures my attention, I tend to pursue it relentlessly. And you, Y/N, have captured my attention in a way I can't quite explain."

You weren't sure how to respond to his admission. It felt like there were layers to Charles Leclerc that you had yet to uncover, and being in this elegant setting with him only added to the intrigue. Despite the initial danger and the circumstances of your first meeting, there was an undeniable pull between the two of you.

"So, what do you want from me, Charles?" you asked, choosing your words carefully. You couldn't help but feel that there was more to this encounter than met the eye.

Charles leaned in slightly, his voice a low whisper amidst the chatter of the gala. "I want to get to know you, Y/N. Beyond the chaos of that night and the secrets we both carry. I want to understand the woman who stayed by my side when others would have fled. And," he added with a wry smile, "I'd like you to consider giving me a chance to show you a different side of me, one that doesn't always dwell in the shadows."

His words hung in the air, laden with both mystery and sincerity. You couldn't deny the magnetic pull he had on you, nor could you ignore the curiosity that had driven you to seek answers about the darker side of this city.

"I'll admit, Charles, you've managed to pique my curiosity," you admitted, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "But I'm not one to rush into things, especially when the circumstances are so… chaotic."

Charles nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. "I understand. Take your time. Just know that I'm not one to give up easily when I want something."

“I figured” You can’t help but chuckle. “I mean you hosted this event just to talk to me”

“Oh darling, you haven’t seen half of the things I can do if I put my mind to something” His voice was playful but you had a feeling that he was in fact not joking.

You found yourself both intrigued and cautious about the enigmatic man before you. Charles Leclerc's world was undoubtedly complex and filled with danger, yet there was an undeniable allure in his presence. The mingling crowd and the opulent setting seemed to fade into the background as the two of you continued your conversation.

As the night wore on, Charles shared more about his life, the intricacies of the power struggles in Monaco, and the delicate balance he had to maintain within the world he inhabited. He spoke of his family's history and the responsibilities that came with their name, all while maintaining an air of charm and charisma that was impossible to resist.

You, in turn, shared your own story, your dreams and aspirations, and the reasons you had come to Monaco in the first place. The more you talked, the more you realized how different your worlds were, yet there was an undeniable connection between you, a spark that refused to be extinguished.

As the gala continued, you couldn't help but wonder if this chance encounter with Charles was meant to be more than just a twist of fate. There was a magnetic pull between the two of you, and despite the chaos and danger that had initially brought you together, you felt a growing curiosity about the man who had hosted this event just to find you.

The evening came to a close, and Charles walked you to your cab, a sense of anticipation hanging in the air. "I hope you consider my offer, Y/N," he said as he opened the cab door for you. "I promise you, there's much more to discover about both Monaco and me."

You nodded, still cautious but undeniably intrigued. "I'll keep that in mind, Charles. But for now, I have a lot to process."

Charles leaned in closer, his lips dangerously close to yours. "Take your time," he whispered before placing a gentle, lingering kiss on your cheek. "Until we meet again."

As you watched him walk away, disappearing into the night, you couldn't help but wonder if your path had just taken an unexpected turn into a world of secrets, intrigue, and a love story unlike any other. Monaco had revealed its hidden depths, and you were about to dive headfirst into the depths of the unknown, with Charles Leclerc as your guide.

The cab pulled away, leaving the gala behind, but the memory of that night lingered in your mind. You knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges and uncertainties, but you couldn't deny the thrill of the journey that lay ahead.

As the city of Monaco glimmered in the distance, you couldn't help but feel that your life had just taken a thrilling and dangerous turn, and you were ready to embrace the adventure, no matter where it might lead.

[number-onekidqueen]

The Seven Times Luke Castellan Said 'I Love You'

Luke Castellan x Apollo!fem!reader

Pure angst.

3.7k words

Warnings: death, injury, insecurities, bad parenting, spoilers for Percy Jackson book series.

One. 

Luke must’ve been four the first time he ever said those three words. 

He’d been at preschool, and it was the second week. He’d missed mommy. He felt different to all the other kids, and there were all these really scary faces that kept popping out of bushes that no one else could see. His mommy had picked him up early when the preschool called, and taken him home to a surprise. She’d baked his favourite: choc chip cookies, and he was even allowed to drink Kool-Aid too! 

“I love you, mommy!!” He’d mumbled, while he stuffed his little mouth with the baked goods, in a sugary daze. 

It made him feel so much better, knowing at least he had mommy to always come home to and rely on. 

If only that had been true. 

Two. 

He was 9 when he said that sentence for the second time. 

Mom wasn’t there for him anymore. 

He was scared to go to school and leave her alone, because every time he got home, she would be insane. It’s like she wasn’t there with him anymore. 

She would scream so loud and her eyes would be bright green, and she’d shake him and cry, wailing about how he was going to die. Usually it would make him so disturbed he’d run into his bedroom and lock the door, hoping she wouldn’t follow. 

She always did. 

It was when she started to pound on his door, begging him to come out, that he’d begin to sob, shaking in fright. 

He’d pray and pray to his dad in desperate tears, asking and asking him to bless his mom, to free her from this curse and to make her better again. It didn’t ever stop. 

She’d still make cookies, sometimes, but she’d forget about them and leave them in for so long they’d always be burnt to cinders. She’d serve Kool-Aid too, but he’d grown out of it. 

Eventually, he couldn’t stand it anymore. His mom wasn’t getting better, but worse. Her fits were getting more frequent, and Luke’s dad wasn’t doing anything to help him. 

Luke couldn’t stay here a second longer. 

“I love you, mum,” he whispered to her curled figure on the couch, a full backpack on his shoulder and all his childhood allowance in his pockets as he softly closed the door. 

He knew they’d be better off without each other. 

Three. 

Luke was fourteen when he said that phrase for the third time. 

He’d finally found his family. 

Sure, it hurt to think of his mother, all alone in his old house, but he had two amazing, brave and funny sisters to make up for that.

Until he didn’t. 

It was all such a blur. 

One second, they’d just been meeting some satyr by the name of Grover, who claimed to be their protector, a safeguard back to a camp for kids like them. 

They’d been on the journey, he, Thalia, Annabeth, wondering what it would be like when they got there, what would happen. 

And then the cyclops had struck. 

It had all gone too quickly from there. They’d been running madly, tripping through the forest scrub, their hearts pumping, their adrenaline pulsing, Grover yelling that the entrance to camp wasn’t far, that they’d be safe there and to keep going. 

The cyclops was still gaining on them,  and Luke was starting to feel an awful sense of dread. 

Then Thalia - brave, amazing, stupid Thalia - had volunteered to fight the monster. She’d told them to run ahead, that she had the sucker and would be right behind them. 

And Luke was scared and thinking of Annabeth and safety, and he agreed, he kept running. 

He left her. 

His sister. 

He swore he blinked once, and then she was dying, crumpled on the dirt, bleeding out and groaning in pain, camp only an ironic few metres away. 

None of them even had time to reach out a hand to help her before she turned golden, vanished into a great big pine tree. 

Gone forever before he could say goodbye. 

“I love you, Thalia,” he whispered that night, not caring that he was breaking curfew rules, getting too close to the dangerous outskirts of camp. 

Not caring he was using present tense. He refused to say ‘loved.’

Because he would love Thalia forever. 

Four

Luke was sixteen the fourth time he uttered those words. 

After all his life he was finally at home. 

He’d grown accustomed and comfortable with camp, accepting it as his home. Even though sometimes it was weird to be at a summer camp all year round, he found happiness in his new place, trying to forget about the bad things. Thalia. His mother. 

He’d found peace in routine, and confidence. Chiron said he was becoming what would be the best swordsman Camp Half-Blood had seen in 300 years. 

There were his friends and siblings. He had Chris and the Stolls, and all the other Hermes kids that made his cabin rowdy and feel homelike. 

Then there was y/n, probably his best friend, an Apollo girl who’d healed him immediately after he got to camp and had been there for him since. 

There were heaps of activities to keep him busy. Training. Capture the flag. Parties, when he was old enough. 

It had been the second of one of the post-curfew parties Luke had been to, and he admitted he had drank too much. Far too much. 

Things had got out of hand when an Ares boy had insulted you, someone who was lovely to everyone. He couldn’t really even remember what the boy had said, only that it enraged him and he’d only seen red after that. 

It all sort of went downhill from there. He’d thrown a punch, received one, and the rest was a sweaty and jagged dance of thrown limbs. 

And now he was here, replaying the events in his mind, sat on the bathroom floor of the Apollo cabin, you kneeling over him with a warm cloth. His fists clenched at the thought of that stupid boy again. 

“Luke,” you whispered, and the thoughts disappeared. “Look at me so I can fix you up.”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. It gave him an excuse to openly stare at you. In this dim light, you were gorgeous. Your skin seemed to glow golden from within, which mirrored the bright warmth of your eyes, and the radiance of your hair that framed your face. It was bittersweet, making him happy yet sick with longing, especially in his drunken state, to think of how you weren’t his. I want you, he wanted to whisper. He nearly did. 

“Thank you. You’re so good.” He said instead. 

“I don’t know about that, but always. That’s what best friends are for,” you reassured, smiling. 

His heart sank. He didn’t want you like a best friend. He wanted you to want him like he wanted you. 

“Yeah,” he said offhandedly. 

There was a long pause. Your touch was soft on the cuts all over him, and although it stung, it was worth it. It was finished all too soon except-

“I’m still hurt,” he tried to explain, but the words wouldn’t form, “like, my chest.”

“He got you there too? Through your shirt?”

“Yeah. Little sucker had a pocketknife and everything.”

“Ok,” you replied. The room stayed silent. Suddenly, he was confused. 

“Um-“

“Yeah, sorry, I just zoned out, um-“

Your hands reached for him almost… shyly. Could it be possible that you were overthinking seeing him like this, flustered, also thinking about him like he was about you? It drew a grin to his face. He decided to play with you. 

“You don’t have to treat me that delicately. I promise it doesn’t hurt that much.” 

You gave a nervous laugh, your hands moving slightly faster as he lifted his arms. 

And then it was time to gauge your reaction. Your eyes were certainly not on him, but his chest, and it almost seemed your cheeks had transitioned from golden to rosy. His grin turned into a smirk. 

“I gather that stare is either in reaction to my amazing abs or really bad cut. Either way, take it all in,” he teased. It occurred to him later he would never have said anything remotely like this if he was sober. 

“Haha, Castellan,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes and continuing your job. But you were smiling. 

Your features were even softer closer up. It took his breath away, and he couldn’t help the words that next escaped from the confines of his heart. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

You froze, midway through finishing dabbing a cut. Your eyes looked up at his, his earnest, vulnerable irises. And then you looked down at his lips. And dropping the cloth, you took his face into your hands and kissed him. It was the most exhilarating, fantastic five seconds of his life. And then you pulled away, stepping back. 

“There you go. That’s probably all you wanted, since you’re drunk. You’re-you’re healed now.” You stuttered out. 

And he wanted to chase you, have another kiss, try to create a proper response to that, to why he loved you, but you’d ran away from him, and he didn’t want to be snooping through someone else’s cabin, even in his state. 

He was left reeling in the moonlight, stumbling back to his cabin before the harpies found him. Once he was between the sheets, his mind muddled, he found it easy to fall asleep, the image and feel of you still in his mind. 

He woke up the next day, baffled that his mind could come up with a dream so lifelike. Even mad that maybe a Hypnos kid has taken note of his crush and decided to create a dream like that as a prank. What assholes. 

Because you would never kiss someone like him, he knew that. 

Like ever. 

Five

Luke was seventeen the fifth time he said that statement. 

He hadn’t known things could get so much worse. 

His father, finally acknowledging him after his claiming, had sent him on a quest. Sure, it was a reused quest from Heracles, but Luke knew just how glorified and contested quests were, and so he accepted happily, choosing two of the older and more experienced campers to assist him in retrieving the golden apples from the dragon. 

You were a bit offended that he hadn’t chose you, and he had no explanation that he could offer you, save for a confession. It made for a parting laced with bitterness. 

The quest started off fine, and they got to their destination smoothly, but it quickly went downhill from there. 

Once they were in the garden, almost immediately the dragon was alerted of their presence. It began to attack, using quick, violent manoeuvres that were hard to keep up with for even the most experienced. 

Too hard for one of his quest mates, who became food for the monster’s jaws. It was a sickening, gruesome sight that Luke could never wipe from his mind. 

The other quest mate became injured soon after that, and then it was Luke on his own. 

At that point, even he knew the quest was lost. He was just defending himself and trying to get out alive. And so he did, with a painful scar from eye to chin as a marking of his forever defeat against the dragon. 

He returned as a failure. 

He was wounded, with a permanent and ugly physical memory, one of his quest mates was dead, the other also mortally wounded, and their fingers hadn’t even grazed the golden flesh of the apples. He couldn’t even finish an already done quest. 

Worse was the pity. 

The moment he stepped past Thalia’s tree and into camp, all he received was pity. Quiet voices, soft glances, stopped conversations, permits, excuses. 

It was as if he were the dragon, and they were afraid that if they did not tread lightly he may begin roaring flames at them. 

He never did. 

Just like y/n never treated him with pity. 

Your eyes were objective, calculating as they surveyed his wounds. Of course your words were soft, but they always were, with your perfect bedside manner. In those moments where you treated him normally, he couldn’t appreciate you more. 

Worst of all probably were the nightmares. He had one awful recurring one: he’d be back in that hellish garden, the dying screams of his dead quest mate and the roaring of the dragon in his ears, the adrenaline and chase all through him, and then every camper he’d ever known would appear, surround him and shake their heads, looking at him in pity and knowing he was a failure. They would chant it, and pelt burning rocks at him, and he would run, run, run, but he could never escape it. 

He couldn’t bear it one hot late July night, and slipped away under the stars. He was always calmer there, where he could put himself and his feelings into perspective. 

And that’s where y/n had found him, sitting on the dew-soaked grass with his knees loosely curled to his chest. 

You didn’t say anything in the beginning, just sat there beside him, breathing, stargazing too. 

“I’ve seen you come out here, every night this week.” You stated, finally looking over at him. “Are the nightmares that bad?”

He nodded, gulping down the fear and tears that submerged at the thought. 

“You should’ve come to me, you know we have dreamless tonic at the infirmary-“

“Yeah I know. But I deserve it, don’t I?” He asked bitterly, turning to you, “I failed and so I get to live with the consequences. The nightmares.”

“No. No, of course not. You don’t have to face consequences-“

“But I do already, don’t I? I feel like I’m not even the same at all, like I’ll never be the same again. I’ve got this stupid, disgusting scar,” he spat, jabbing at his face, “as this reminder and I’ve got to live knowing I wasn’t ever good enough to succeed and my failure led to someone’s death.”

There was silence for a while, where you gazed at him, at his eyes. 

“Stop blaming yourself,” you said softly, “I won’t let you.”

“I can’t help it though,” he whispered, voice cracking, “after training for so long and everyone telling me I’m the best swordsman, I couldn’t save someone, could barely defend myself. And now they’re dead, because of me. And every time I try and forget it- I look in the mirror and see this-this scar and-“

You scooted closer, and one of your hands laid over his. 

“Your scar isn’t a symbol of failure. It should never be. It means you’re brave, that you survived that dragon-“ you reached for his face, and so, so gently began to run your index finger down his scar, “-that you’ve overcome all that horror and emerged stronger.”

You cupped his cheek after you finished tracing. His heart was racing. 

“And you’re still the same to me. You’re still smart, funny, brave, handsome, strong. You’re still you. Don’t let anyone take that away.”

Your hand slowly drew away from his face, but he caught it, keeping you there. 

And he stared. 

Stared at this beautiful, golden girl who was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He could only think of three words. 

“I love you,” he whispered to you, and he slowly leaned in. 

You kissed, his hands in your silky hair and yours on his strong back, and this was the most effective healing Luke had ever had. 

He knew at this moment that the best he would ever be was with you. 

And that would be always, he hoped. 

Six. 

Luke was nineteen the next time he spoke from his heart. 

Things were finally getting better, but they had a long way to go. Luke would be there to see the good change come through. 

Camp was normal. Demigods died, demigods lived. They got claimed, their parents ignored them for months or years. They would train for quests, row, sing at camp fires. He would teach sword classes, rowing, and in his spare time he and y/n would go to their secret spot at the lake and…. Spend some time together in private. 

Flustered and a little ruffled they would return to have dinner, stargaze, play wild games of Capture the Flag. 

Luke was happy enough. But he didn’t know how long this would last, this calm joy. 

He couldn’t live like this, waiting in fear for the other shoe to drop with no help from his dad and the other gods. 

He’d made his decisions, laid his plans, and now he waited. Waited. 

Tangled in your arms, he traced shapes on your hands as you played with his hair. It was a warm environment, like the home he never had. 

The nightmares never really left Luke. Well, unless you were with him. 

It was many a night, after curfew, when snores were in the air that he would sneak into your cabin and join you (There were too many people in Hermes cabin for the alternative to ever happen). 

And there in your bed he would stay. Sometimes you would talk. Sometimes you would make out. And sometimes you would have quiet times like this, all of each other intertwined as you were lost in comforting thoughts. 

Well, you were. 

Luke was lost in guilt and impossible choices. He never wanted to leave you, be apart from you. He didn’t know how he’d live without seeing you, hearing your voice. And he hated to leave you like this.  But he knew you would never join him. Apollo hadn’t been great, but he hadn’t been terrible and he knew his plans would scare you. He wanted the best for half bloods. This was the only way he could think of. When he came back, surely you would understand. 

“You’re so quiet,” you mumbled, from your place under his chin. “What’s wrong?”

“You know what I was thinking about?” And he made up some deep philosophical thought that the two of you quietly discussed and argued about for the next little while, the conversation drifting to other topics before you got drowsy. 

“Good night,” you murmured, lifting your face to kiss his nose, scar and lips softly. You returned your head to its place, your warm lips in a smile against his neck, “see you in the morning.”

His stomach plunged, and he felt sick with guilt. He reached over for you, drawing you in for a long, passionate kiss. You, still half asleep, confusedly frowned, but settled back into him with a grin on your face. It was a goodbye, but you didn’t know that. 

“I love you,” he breathed, while you fell asleep, and he swore he saw your lips turn upwards. You succumbed to sleep quickly, and it made it simple to softly slip away, escape from you. 

As he passed Thalia’s tree, he turned back to look at the cabins, your cabin. 

He’d run away once from a home, and it had hurt him. But it had been worth it in the end, and he didn’t regret it. 

It hurt running away from this home. Was it worth leaving if it tore his heart into two? He supposed only time would tell. Fitting, giving who his new master was. 

——————

And that was the last time Luke ever said I love you. 

Well, there was once more. 

——————————

Seven. 

He didn’t know how old he was when he said that small sentence for the final time. 

All he knew was he obeyed Kronos and that the gods had to be slain. 

The city at least was familiar. A deep, small part of him felt almost… scared and upset that this city was being damaged. 

Oh, and the people. There was a boy he hated, who was powerful and threatening. And a girl with him, who he should hate but he seemed to, well, not. 

It had all unfolded so suddenly, the defeat, and suddenly he remembered bits and pieces. 

He’d betrayed camp half blood, the only home that he had known, but only so the gods would pay attention to them, be better parents. But what he was doing now wasn’t what he had wanted. Not at all. 

He supposed it was an easy decision to make when the boy - ….. Percy - told him to stab himself in the armpit. 

He did and finally, in the deadly silence, he was himself again. He was Luke Castellan. A demigod, a child of Hermes. A lot of other things. 

For a moment all he could see was the blonde girl whose name he couldn’t remember, that stared at him as he began to writhe in pain. The same blonde girl he couldn’t seem to hate, who he seemed to be soft for. 

A lot of other faces stared too, who seemed to be familiar to him but he couldn’t place. 

And then there was screaming. Loud, pained screams and running footsteps and a panic rose inside of him. He knew that scream, although he’d rarely heard it. 

And there was you, y/n. A face and voice he instantly knew, that he would remember half-dead, which ironically reflected the place he was in now. 

You were as beautiful as he remembered, even now, your face contorted, grimy, tears streaming, your hair a sweaty mess. 

“No, I can heal him, I can heal him.” You sobbed, kneeling beside him and trying to staunch the bleeding which he could oddly not feel. 

He hated seeing you like this. So sad, hurt, in pain. Knowing there was nothing he could do to improve it made it even worse. 

He reached for your hand, squeezing it and attempting a weak smile. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, “I’m sorry for everything I ever did to you, because you never deserved it. And-“ he coughed, dust in his lungs. 

“I love you.” He said, loud and clear for the world to hear. He wanted to say more, but his chest was weak. 

It was only them for that moment. You dove in and kissed him, just as passionately as he had that final night. It took his breath away, and he found himself grinning, joyous, at peace. 

It was a goodbye, but he didn’t know that.

[v88sy]

I really do think Tommy was coming from a place of feeling inadequate, being scared of getting hurt, and feeling like he will never be able to live up to this grand picture Buck had painted of him just a few sentences earlier.

He called him transformative. Brave.

All of it, including the relationship itself, is still new, and Buck is still figuring things, along with himself, out. There's nothing wrong to that.

Yeah, the wording didn't come off the best, I'll agree, but I really feel like Tommy is just scared of what will happen once the new wears off and Buck starts to see him as he sees himself.

Whether or not that's an inevitable truth remains to be seen, but to Tommy, it already is. It's probably already happened with partners in the past. "But they usually aren't" (first being last) reads to me as someone who's been there before, maybe more than once.

Tommy knows he's not the forever guy, and that was fine. Until he didn't want it to be.

And yes, let's be honest here. Asking someone to move in with you before you have even said I love you, or known them well enough to know they were engaged, is impulsive.

I also think Tommy got spooked by realizing Buck's "himbo" past. Not because he's judgemental about it, but because he wonders if Buck will ever want that again, same as Buck worrying that Tommy stringing Abby along meant he could do it again.

Bottom line, they were both wrong, and they were both wrong in how they reacted. They should have talked it out better. Tommy shouldn't have left, but I get why he did. Buck should've fought for him to stay.

If we never get them back together in that capacity, I at least hope we can see some on screen resolution where they make peace.

[why4anne]

Money Power Glory

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Category: Mafia! au

Part: 1/?

Word Count: 3k

Summary: When you accidentally found yourself in the middle of a mafia show down you had no idea that your life was about to change, forever. For better or for worse.

Masterlist

The smell of the sea reached your nostrils as you strolled along the harbor of Monaco. You couldn’t help but feel amazed at the sight and couldn’t believe your luck that you got to move to a place like this. You’d just gotten accepted to the university of Monaco and moved into your little apartment right outside the beautiful country mere hours ago. The yachts that decorated the water were like out of a dream and you felt yourself daydream about owning one sometime in the distant future.

The hours went by and you decided that you would walk back to your apartment before it got too dark. You took your phone out of your purse only to find it dead. 

“Damn it!” You swore as you shoved your phone back in your bag. How were you supposed to find your apartment now? You had forgotten the address and your plan of just opening the pinned location on google maps won’t work now. 

‘How hard can it be?’ You thought to yourself as you decided to try and find your way home based on memory. The streets of Monaco were hard to navigate and you found yourself completely lost. You took a left turn, hoping for the best. You walked quietly along the street when you heard a man raise his voice followed by what sounded like more men arguing. 

You tried to make yourself ready to run in case the men were a threat. You decided  that continuing to walk to get yourself away from the situation was the best choice. The fact that your phone was dead weighed heavily on your mind. If the men were to attack you’d have no way of alerting anyone. 

The voices got louder as you walked and when you turned the corner you saw four men arguing. It looked like it was serious based on their tense stances, ready to fight. 

“Fuck you Leclerc. You think you’re so fucking powerful just because you inherited the biggest mob of Monaco and France from daddy huh? Well guess what? Daddy isn’t here anymore” The first man said as he and his friends cornered this “Leclerc” guy. You resisted the urge to gasp, not wanting to make a sound. This was the mafia. If anyone knew you were here you’d be in big trouble.

“You think I’m scared of you Bassett? I have more money and resources then you could ever dream of. And not to mention balls. Cornering me with two other men as I leave the casino is not what I would consider brave” The second man spoke arrogantly even if it was clear that he was at a disadvantage seeing as they were three against one. 

“I don’t need balls to do this.” You wondered what he ment but your questions were soon answered as you heard the click of a gun.

“You’re a fucking pussy you know that right?” Leclerc spoke, still calm as ever. “You owe me millions and instead of paying me back you’re going to shoot me? You know, it sounds to me as if you’re not as rich as you claim to be Mr. Bassett."  You didn't have the time to process his words before four gunshots were heard and three bodies fell to the ground. 

You yelped, you didn’t mean to but you couldn’t help it, the gunshots took you by surprise.

“Who’s there?” The man, Leclerc, was still standing above the three corpses and he was looking right into your eyes. His intense stare sent shivers up your spine. He started to walk towards you with determined steps.

‘So this is how I die?’ You think to yourself as he approaches you. You close your eyes, ready to feel the pain of a bullet but before you feel anything you hear the man collapse. You open your eyes and look at him, he’s on one knee, branching himself against the wall to stay upright. As you look closely you see a pool of red blood form on his white button up shirt. You watch in horror as it grows, a bullet must’ve hit him. Despite how afraid of this man you were you couldn’t let him die here.

“Are you okay sir? You asked quietly as you slowly approached him. The only response you got was a groan. You knelt beside him and took off your cardigan and pressed it to the wound. 

“Okay I think you need to lay down on your back.” You told him as you felt him become unstable. He did as you told him to and groaned when he had to move but didn’t complain. You reached for your phone to call an ambulance but remembered that it didn’t have any charge left.  “Do you have a phone? I need to call the ambulance” You asked the brunette in front of you. 

“Front left pocket.” He grumbled and you reached into his pocket. You quickly called the ambulance who told you that they were on their way and told you to keep him conscious and to keep pressure on the wound.

“So I have to keep you awake.” You started talking with him, deciding that it was the best way to keep him from blacking out. “Um… I’m Y/N.” You said, not having any idea of what to talk about.

“Charles” He said in a raspy voice.

‘Damn he’s kinda hot’ you thought as you got a closer look of him, his piercing green eyes looking into yours made your mind all fuzzy. ‘Fuck, Y/N concentrate’ you snapped out of your trance to focus on the task at hand.

“Um… so you want to tell me what just happened?” You ask him to try and get him to continue talking. It was probably a stupid question because if he was really in the mafia he wouldn’t tell you, a random girl, about it.

But it seemed as if bleeding out loosened his lips because he told you everything. How the leader of another mod owed him millions of euros and refused to pay him back. Instead cornered him after a night out.

Charles winced in pain as he continued to speak, his voice strained but determined. "You see, Y/N, this city might look like a paradise on the surface, but beneath it all, there's a constant power struggle. My family has been deeply involved in this world for generations, and sometimes, conflicts like these are inevitable."

You listened intently, both to his words and to the distant sound of approaching sirens. Time was of the essence, and you had to keep him conscious until help arrived.

Charles took shallow breaths, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're a brave one, you know that? Most people would have run away screaming. But you stayed and helped me. Why?"

You shrugged, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through you. "I couldn't just leave you here," you replied, pressing the cardigan against his wound a little firmer. "We're all human, right?" You tried to lighten the mood by sending him a reassuring smile.

He nodded in agreement, wincing at the pain. "You have a kind heart, Y/N. I've seen too much darkness in this world."

“Try not to move” You put your free hand on his forehead and gently laid his head back onto the ground.  

As you continued to apply pressure to his wound, Charles delved deeper into the complexities of his life. He talked about the struggles of maintaining power in a world where alliances were fragile, trust was scarce, and violence was always lurking in the shadows.

Sirens grew closer, their wailing an urgent reminder of the impending arrival of help. You could hear the paramedics getting closer.

Charles managed a faint smile, his green eyes softer now. "You, Y/N, might have just saved my life. And that's no small feat in this world. I owe you a debt of gratitude."

You chuckled nervously, unsure of how to respond. "Well, I hope you recover quickly. And maybe consider... finding a less dangerous line of work?"

Charles chuckled, though it quickly turned into a cough, and he winced. "I wish it were that simple, Y/N. But in my world, things are never straightforward."

As the paramedics arrived and took over, you stepped back to give them space, watching as they worked swiftly to stabilize Charles. He was whisked away on a stretcher, disappearing into the back of the ambulance.

One of the paramedics approached you, asking for your account of what happened. You recounted the events as best as you could, leaving out the more sensitive details about Charles's life. You didn't want to be involved any more deeply than you already were.

After the ambulance sped away, you were left standing there, alone on the dimly lit street. The adrenaline began to fade, and the reality of your situation hit you. You were still lost in an unfamiliar city, and now, you had a surreal encounter with the local mafia to add to your list of experiences.

With a sigh, you decided to try and find your way back to your apartment once more, this time determined to ask for directions if needed. You couldn't help but replay the events in your mind as you walked. Monaco had revealed a darker side to itself, one you never expected when you first arrived in this glamorous city.

Little did you know that your chance encounter with Charles Leclerc would set in motion a series of events that would entangle you further in the secrets and intrigues of Monaco, a world far removed from the idyllic facade it presented to the world.

Two months later you find yourself getting ready for a charity event for the university. From your understanding, some very influential business owner was hosting this gala in order to bring more funding to the school. You, alongside 24 other students, had been selected to attend this event. 

‘I really hate to mingle.’ You think as you exit the cab in your floor length blue dress. 

The night air was cool and carried a salty tang as you stepped out of the cab, the lights of the venue beckoning you. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the mingling and socializing you were about to endure. It wasn't your favorite activity, but you knew it was necessary, an invaluable opportunity to network with some of Monaco’s elite.

As you entered the venue, the opulence of the event struck you. The ceilings were adorned with crystal chandeliers, the walls draped in luxurious fabrics, and there was an air of sophistication that seemed to hang in the atmosphere. It was clear that this was a gathering of the wealthy and influential.

You began to navigate the room, attempting to strike up conversations with various attendees. Many were donors or businesspeople, keen on discussing their ventures and achievements. While you were polite and engaged in the discussions, your mind kept drifting back to that fateful night with Charles and the encounter with the mafia.

It was a blurry line between the glamorous facade of Monaco's elite and the hidden, dangerous world that lurked in its shadows. You wondered how many of these seemingly respectable individuals were involved in the kind of underworld you had witnessed that night.

Just as you were lost in your thoughts, a familiar voice broke through. "Hello beautiful”

Startled, you turned to see none other than Charles Leclerc standing before you, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit. He offered you a polite smile, his earlier wounds seemingly healed, at least physically. The surprise of seeing him here, at this event, momentarily left you speechless.

"Hi," you managed to reply despite your initial shock, a little flustered as you offered him a smile. "I didn't expect to see you here," you spoke, attempting to break the ice.

"I would say the same about you but then I’d be lying" Charles remarked, his eyes probing yet gentle. "I hosted this event to find you. You've been on my mind since that night."

“You’re the host?” You exclaimed, eyes wide at this knowledge. “Why?”

“As I said. You’ve been on my mind every day for the last two months.” He admitted, his gaze was intense as he searched your eyes for a reaction.

“How did you know where I go to school? All you knew was my first name” You questioned him.

“I have my ways” He said nonchalantly.

You couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions—surprise, curiosity, and a lingering unease. Charles Leclerc, the enigmatic figure you had encountered that fateful night, had hosted this prestigious event specifically to find you. It was a revelation that left you both intrigued and cautious.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect to see you again after that night," you confessed, still trying to wrap your head around the situation. "And hosting this event to find me? That's quite... unusual."

Charles chuckled softly, his charm as captivating as ever. "Unusual, perhaps, but when something captures my attention, I tend to pursue it relentlessly. And you, Y/N, have captured my attention in a way I can't quite explain."

You weren't sure how to respond to his admission. It felt like there were layers to Charles Leclerc that you had yet to uncover, and being in this elegant setting with him only added to the intrigue. Despite the initial danger and the circumstances of your first meeting, there was an undeniable pull between the two of you.

"So, what do you want from me, Charles?" you asked, choosing your words carefully. You couldn't help but feel that there was more to this encounter than met the eye.

Charles leaned in slightly, his voice a low whisper amidst the chatter of the gala. "I want to get to know you, Y/N. Beyond the chaos of that night and the secrets we both carry. I want to understand the woman who stayed by my side when others would have fled. And," he added with a wry smile, "I'd like you to consider giving me a chance to show you a different side of me, one that doesn't always dwell in the shadows."

His words hung in the air, laden with both mystery and sincerity. You couldn't deny the magnetic pull he had on you, nor could you ignore the curiosity that had driven you to seek answers about the darker side of this city.

"I'll admit, Charles, you've managed to pique my curiosity," you admitted, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "But I'm not one to rush into things, especially when the circumstances are so… chaotic."

Charles nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. "I understand. Take your time. Just know that I'm not one to give up easily when I want something."

“I figured” You can’t help but chuckle. “I mean you hosted this event just to talk to me”

“Oh darling, you haven’t seen half of the things I can do if I put my mind to something” His voice was playful but you had a feeling that he was in fact not joking.

You found yourself both intrigued and cautious about the enigmatic man before you. Charles Leclerc's world was undoubtedly complex and filled with danger, yet there was an undeniable allure in his presence. The mingling crowd and the opulent setting seemed to fade into the background as the two of you continued your conversation.

As the night wore on, Charles shared more about his life, the intricacies of the power struggles in Monaco, and the delicate balance he had to maintain within the world he inhabited. He spoke of his family's history and the responsibilities that came with their name, all while maintaining an air of charm and charisma that was impossible to resist.

You, in turn, shared your own story, your dreams and aspirations, and the reasons you had come to Monaco in the first place. The more you talked, the more you realized how different your worlds were, yet there was an undeniable connection between you, a spark that refused to be extinguished.

As the gala continued, you couldn't help but wonder if this chance encounter with Charles was meant to be more than just a twist of fate. There was a magnetic pull between the two of you, and despite the chaos and danger that had initially brought you together, you felt a growing curiosity about the man who had hosted this event just to find you.

The evening came to a close, and Charles walked you to your cab, a sense of anticipation hanging in the air. "I hope you consider my offer, Y/N," he said as he opened the cab door for you. "I promise you, there's much more to discover about both Monaco and me."

You nodded, still cautious but undeniably intrigued. "I'll keep that in mind, Charles. But for now, I have a lot to process."

Charles leaned in closer, his lips dangerously close to yours. "Take your time," he whispered before placing a gentle, lingering kiss on your cheek. "Until we meet again."

As you watched him walk away, disappearing into the night, you couldn't help but wonder if your path had just taken an unexpected turn into a world of secrets, intrigue, and a love story unlike any other. Monaco had revealed its hidden depths, and you were about to dive headfirst into the depths of the unknown, with Charles Leclerc as your guide.

The cab pulled away, leaving the gala behind, but the memory of that night lingered in your mind. You knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges and uncertainties, but you couldn't deny the thrill of the journey that lay ahead.

As the city of Monaco glimmered in the distance, you couldn't help but feel that your life had just taken a thrilling and dangerous turn, and you were ready to embrace the adventure, no matter where it might lead.

[heybluez]

if i didn't know better, i'd think you were still around

little angsty disaster twins snippet i posted on ao3 a while ago. thought it might be cool to post it here too! cw for major character implied/ referenced death. enjoy!

-----

He walked past his room again.

At this point, it was starting to become an exercise in futility. It was like a data point to be measured, a new tally to be marked down, how many times could he walk past his room in a day under the guise of doing literally anything else. Checking the kitchen to see if they needed more eggs. Ducking into the dojo to see if Raph had let up on his everlasting training routine since he had last checked on him, seeing if Mikey needed more salve for his aching arms. Walking behind dad’s recliner to see if he had moved an inch, at all, or if he was still stuck watching the same stupid infomercial reruns in lieu of getting up and helping mend the chaotic, broken stasis that his sons were stuck in.

It had been almost five months. Four months and sixteen days, if you wanted to be perfectly exact, but man, who was really counting?

(He was. Donnie was.)

It was, truthfully, stasis. The time had passed, but nobody acknowledged it, not really. It was still August fifth. Maybe it would always be August fifth. It felt that way. Sure, they moved around it, this gaping hole of just, loss, the grief in its totality, like it didn’t exist, but the proof of it persisted every time Donnie walked past his room, and he wasn’t there.

Leo was supposed to be in his room.

Leo was supposed to be in his room so that when Donnie walked in after fruitless efforts of getting a specific line of Python to code, a blanket would be lifted so Donnie could crawl in and commiserate in Leo’s insomniatic company. Leo was supposed to be in his room so that Donnie could bring in two sugar free Redbulls and turn on a Five Nights at Freddy’s video essay, staying up until four in the morning discussing with Leo which game contributed the most lore to the series. Leo was supposed to be in his room so that Donnie knew exactly where to find him when he got a text from Leo that he was heading topside for a slushie run and wanted Donnie to come with him. Leo was supposed to be in his room so that Donnie could come bug him to share his Switch so they could play Mario Kart.

Leo was supposed to be in his room.

And all Donnie could do was walk by, adding more tallies to the count for every time he did, wishing he could push past this inane thing, this fear, of walking into Leo’s room, and having to face the total eclipse of acceptance that his room would always be empty.

It had been almost five months.

He wondered if Leo had ever taken the mug he had been drinking his peppermint tea in back to the kitchen, the tea he had made the night before the world ended, or if it was just collecting dust now on his nightstand. He wondered if Leo had taped up the left corner of his Jupiter Jim poster that had fallen down, or if it was still hanging off the wall, doomed to be stuck that way for the rest of time. He wondered if he had remembered to plug in his laptop, or if it was still sitting on his bed where it would remain forever paused on whatever movie he had turned on to help him fall asleep.

Donnie could try to rationalize to himself all he wanted that he walked past Leo’s door everyday to check on the state of the lair. To check on the state of his family, as they too tried to process their grief. He could give himself a million reasons as to why it wouldn’t be alright for him to finally just walk into Leo’s room, a room that was now made to hold his memory, a mortuary for the people who loved him, love him, so much. In truth, he was scared to see the same stasis that he saw in Raph, saw in Mikey, saw in his dad. Their life was an ellipsis, waiting for the resolving sentence that was Leonardo to make them truly whole. If he walked into Leo’s room, if he finally let himself be brave, the pause button he had placed on his own life would start playing again, and the feeble control he so painstakingly allowed himself in his grief would finally be unraveled.

The feeble, tiniest hope still left in him that when he walked past Leo’s door, maybe he might hear the shitty eighties glam rock Leo so loved to dance to, or a Ghibli movie he had watched a million times, or hell, maybe even Leo’s voice and his wonderful, dazzling laugh as he talked to someone on the phone.

He still had this small hope inside him that perhaps Leo wasn’t truly gone, just somewhere far away where Donnie couldn’t quite reach him, and any minute he might portal back into his room where Donnie could find him again. That seeing the portal close, the portal that painted the early morning New York City sky in so many beautiful shades of brilliant colors, had just been a terrible dream. And he would wake up any minute now, and the one color the sky couldn’t take away from him, his most favorite shade of blue, would be waiting for him like he always was.

But the dream didn’t pass. It never did.

Donnie felt like insanity personified, and maybe he was. Doing the same thing over and over, hoping, wishing, praying for a different result.

One more time. Just once more.

He walked past his room.

[brrbrina]

echoes

joe burrow x og!c

part: 1/?

warnings: cheating, implied sex but nothing explicit, pregnancy (?) ANGST

"Cinnicinatti Bengals Quarterback Joe Burrow and Model Designer and Wife Kendall Carter broke off their marriage after 7 years. The couple welcomed their first and only child Natalie Burrow-Carter four years ago.

There has been no comment or statement made by his reps but a close source to the couple shared that the breakup was amicable and that their priority is their daughter."

When the announcement hit the news the only thing on Kendall´s mind was her daughter, she was a beautiful reminder of the love she and Joe had for the time they were together. And Natalie adored their parents, she was the happiest kid when she would accompany her mom to work and cheer for her dad every weekend of the season. Telling her they wouldn´t live together anymore broke Kendall´s heart in a way she didn´t know was possible.

"So Daddy won´t drive me to school anymore? " Natalie said looking up at her daddy as he turned to see his soon-to-be ex-wife, "He will baby, it will only be a few times a week my love " Kendall stopped and place her hand on her heart "I want you to know that we love you and we will always love you" she said with tears on her eyes and gulping "On the bright said you will have two Christmas" Joe said excitedly and held her daughter as she laughed, Joe took her out for ice cream and Kendall took a shower.

Being by herself made her heart race and her stomach hurt, she hated Joe, the breakup wasn´t amicable, it was the worst heartbreak she had ever gone through, she cried herself to sleep constantly on an empty bed, holding the pillow where he used to lay his head. He slept in the guest room, had dinner when she was asleep, and took showers when she wasn´t home.

Every corner of that house was haunted, filled with memories and his laughter, his scent, significant moments, and then also screams and anger. Dinners were eaten my themselves and luggage was never unpacked, the shirts she wore once after making love were back in his side on the closet, washed and smelling like detergent, it no longer smelled like Joe´s cologne or her favorite VS body spray she used to wear at home because she knew he loved it.

She hated that, she was always scared of falling in love, her parents got divorced when she was twelve years old, old enough to realize love wasn´t meant to last, she hated the thought of Natalie feeling that way, she knew love existed, their daughter was proof of that.

"I talked to my lawyers, and they will contact yours soon, you can keep this house and the holiday house in Rhode Island," he said as Kendall was in her closet,

Joe wasn´t brave enough to admit when he stopped loving her, he met someone new on one of his trips to New York, she was two years younger than him, a smart-looking woman who he met at a coffee shop, he couldn´t take his eyes off her. He then found out she worked at the NFL and followed her on social media. The first time Kendall and he had sex after the trip, he was picturing Jaqueline or Jackie as he used to call her now.

With every kiss she was giving him, Joe pictured her, when Kendall was giving him the greatest head of his life, he couldn't stop imagining the lips around his cock were from a woman who wasn't his wife, when he was licking her, he wondered how she would taste, .

He knew it was wrong, he was married, had a kid, and a family he wanted to span, Kendall didn´t want a baby right away, she knew she needed to go back to work, and having a baby wouldn´t be the smartest option at the time.

"I haven´t had that great sex in forever, I bought you a new piece of lingerie I can´t wait to see you on. Love you baby see you in a week"

Kendall broke down crying when she saw the message being sent from her husband's phone, she couldn´t believe it. Natalie was dropped off at her grandparent's house with a lame excuse and Kendall waited for Joe sitting on their bed

"Honey I'm home" Joe yelled from downstairs but she didn´t hear him "Where´s Natalie? What´s with the box?" he asked "How long have you been fucking Jaqueline or do you prefer me calling her Jackie or baby? Tell me, Joe, how do you prefer me to call her?” she said with her heart racing and watery eyes, but she wasn´t sad she was mad, she was angry, and she need him to feel the way she felt.

"How long Joe?" She screamed and he was pale as a ghost, words wouldn´t come out of his mouth. "If you don´t tell me how long you have been having this little adventure I swear to god I will make sure you will never come near Natalie anymore" she stated looking at him in a way he had never seen her before.

"Baby please listen to me" he tried to grab her arm but she quickly brushed it off and fought the urge to spit him in the face she said, "Don´t you dare touch me once in your life again or call me baby again".

Joe sighed, "I have seen her for the last two months, I never intended to cheat on you I swear baby" She slapped him, and he started to cry "You have the nerve to cry?" she chuckled "Joe you destroyed our family, you cheated on me and while you were sleeping with that slut I was here, taking care of our daughter, putting my career on hold just because I loved you enough to support you through your career, I was stupid oh my God" she put her hand on her forehead, "I can´t believe I even had this planned this is so stupid" she threw him the box that was next to her on the bed, a pregnancy test, a positive pregnancy test.

Truth be told, Kendall wanted a baby, she hoped it would be a boy, and she was a bit jealous of how much Natalie looked like her dad, Joe could be a cheater, but at least he was a good father to her kid. She fantasized constantly about how their family would be. This would be her last baby, she would go back to work in the clothing company she worked so hard to develop and Joe would win a few more rings, they would be a happy family and eventually move out of the spotlight.

She found out she was pregnant when Joe was away for a game and it made her sick to her stomach that while she was creating life, he was sleeping with another woman. She found out about the cheating three weeks later, and she was angry, pissed, and insanely heartsick, it was almost Thanksgiving and she planned on giving Joe the surprise that weekend, then a month later, telling Natalie on Christmas day, that dream was crumbled.

"How long have you been pregnant?" Joe said excitedly, "Babe this is the greatest news of my life he said trying to hug her and she took a step back "How do you have the nerve to be like this?" she had steady breathing "You tore this up Joe, you ruined our family and" she stutters "You haven´t even apologized, you became self-center and arrogant"

"Ken if you give me one more chance I promise I will change, I will cut any relation I have with her" he had slumped shoulders, and she didn't say a word "Any relation I had with her was purely sexual, you´re the only woman I love"

Kendall had her arms wrapping around her body "So that makes it better" "No, it doesn´t I know it doesn´t but I can go to therapy and work that there, you can have my phone all the time and go through it whenever you want" Kendall chuckled "I don´t want you near this place until we come to an agreement, if you want to see Natalie you can pick her up at school and go to your parent´s house to be with her" she went to bathroom and cried until she heard Joe leave the house.

That was three months ago, she was 5 months into her pregnancy and her baby was growing healthy, she saw Joe every now and then, the season was over, the Bengals won the super bowl and as much as Joe showed he was happy that night, he could only think of the woman he lost and the family he missed so dearly.

He constantly wondered how their life would look like if he hadn´t messed up things, he hated himself, he hated that he wasn´t close to his daughter anymore, and he was grieving that he hadn´t seen his baby, Kendall told him she didn´t want him to go with her to the check-ups, "Well Joe you fucked up honey I don´t know what you want me to say" his mom said staring at him and her son was crying, he seemed awful but at least he was happy that Natalie was staying with him over the weekend.

"Daddy!" Natalie screamed and Joe felt full again, he knew she would eventually know the truth and he deep down knew his children would hate him for it, he would hate his dad if he ever cheated on his mom, and the pure thought of Natalie and baby Burrow hating him broke his heart. He knew he deserved it, he knew he fucked up and he was sorry.

That evening they went to a mall to Build-a-bear, Joe took her telling her that it would be a nice gesture for her baby brother, she was extremely happy with the news, she loved the idea of being a big sister.

"I want that one daddy" She pointed to the classic teddy bear, he grabbed it and went on to fill it, he knew these moments wouldn't last forever and he was scared of his baby girl growing up. When Kendall told him she was pregnant, he was over the moon, Natalie was a copy of him, she had her mom´s brown hair but her dad's blue orbits. When she was born Joe made the promise to always protect her, care for her and guard her dreams, he was mad at himself now because he knew he fucked that promise, his baby would eventually get her heart broken by a guy, and he was sure she would hate him for what he did to her mom.

"Are you excited for your brother to come home, honey?" Joe said with Natalie in his arms as she was eating an ice cream cone "Yes, but I'm more excited to come and buy Mat clothes" They made the agreement of coming to buy clothes for her teddy bear once the baby was born "Mat? Where you got that name from" he chuckled as he put her on the car seat "That´s the name of mommy´s friend, he´s very nice, look" she showed him a bracelet "CARTER".

He felt his blood boil, Mommy´s new friend? Was he spending time with his daughter, was he bringing Kendall late-night pregnancy cravings? He drove Natalie to her mom´s house. He passed a Trader Joe´s and bought Kendall flowers, "Which one do you think mommy would like?" he asked Natalie, she pointed to the pink ones,

Hoping to come to clarity on who that man was. He parked his car in the driveway, rang the door, and hope to see the love of his life, Kendall opened the door, and the smile she had dropped when she saw Joe,

"What are you doing here? You know your mom is supposed to bring Natalie when you hang with her" Kendall took her daughter from her dad´s fathers arms, she was fast asleep, "I know but I really want to talk to you, I want to see how the baby is doing, how are you doing?" Kendall was a pathological people pleaser, and unfortunately for her Joe knew that, he knew she would´t reject him, and deep down Kendall knew the same thing, she was glad her children´s dad was present in their lives and every month when she got ready for her check-ups she wished Joe would go with her; when Natalie was on the way, she was the happiest she had ever been, she loved this baby nonetheless but it pained her to know her son wouldn't experience having a "normal" family, however, that was Joe´s fault's, not hers.

She moved out of the way and he walked inside, Kendall was going upstairs to put Natie to sleep but she was too heavy for her, carrying a baby and her big baby was something she stopped doing a few weeks ago.

"Can you carry her upstairs? I can´t lift her anymore" She turned to see Joe and he quickly brought her back to his arms, he made his way upstairs and Natalie went behind him, when both of them entered their daughter's room a sense of nostalgia filled the air, a longing to have his family back took over Joe's body, to return home and share his life with his love.

Natalie woke up as Joe tucked her in "Can you stay here tonight Daddy? I promise I will eat all my veggies tomorrow" Natalie said with her little sleepy eyes, he didn´t know what to do, he kissed her daughter on her forehead and Kendall stared at them with eyes that once were full of love.

As they made their way out of Natie´s room Joe looked at her with puppy eyes "You can stay here tonight, in the guest room but you have to leave tomorrow evening because I can´t risk Natalie having the hope that you will come back to live here"

a/n: hello everyone! i know i have been mia but i´ve had the biggest writer´s block, this idea came to me yesterday night and i couldn´t stop writing. I hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

special thanks to @cowboyburrow for encouraging me to post this, i appreciate her opinions and feedbacks and i LOVE her stories :)

[transparentkinks]

Hey, we don't talk enough about how a lot of companions are gonna way outlive the player.

Angst and death ahead!

Nick: 

Attitude

He doesn't like to think about how long he’s gonna live, and how long she’s gonna live. Never puts him in a good headspace. He just makes sure to stay by her side, keep her out of harm’s way, learn his way around radaway and stimpacks and med-x. She gave him plenty of stress, no doubt, but that was also why he loved her. She was brave. She knew what was right, she kept a level head and stood by those that stood by her. She was skilled enough to rebuild a peace the likes of which the commonwealth hadn’t known in ages. Honestly, it was probably better now. Her settlements were something to behold, and they kept the area around them safe. There was so much food, clean water, people were safe, people had something to fight for, she had taken down anything in her way. She was a one woman nuclear bomb and the commonwealth was never the same. 

He realizes sometime later on, that part of him just felt like she’d find a way to live forever. She was brilliant like that, but he also knew that’s something she’d never really pursue. It wasn’t until Nora started showing signs of age that he started looking for ways himself. He found evidence of plenty, none though that let her keep her humanity. He swore to himself he’d stay by her, support her in age and infirmity, she wouldn’t be alone. The looming threat of Nora’s death was something he proffered only to pay mind to while fighting, or while Nora entertained a much too shady quest. Then he used it to protect her, and knowing that he would be there no matter what hairbrained scheme Nora managed to get herself entangled in gave him some measure of peace of mind. Nothing would take her if he had a say in it. Maybe not even death, if that synth to human connection line of research lines up with the research on downloading a human mind. 

In the Moment

Realistically, it was probably a delicious dinner. He didn’t eat, but he set himself timers to harass Nora to eat, drink and sleep as she had a tendency to procrastinate all of them. They were not needed tonight. Tonight she wasn’t just Nora, she was Nora, general of the Minutemen. And Nora, general of the Minutemen, was to be meeting with the upper brass of diamond city. No doubt quite annoying for them, seeing as her history placed her as a dirty vault dweller asking questions in the upper stands and eventually finding out the mayor is a secret synth. The fact that she had to meet with them to solidify trade deals they desperately wanted no doubt got under their skin. 

Evidently too much, as Nora quickly curled into herself in her seat, clutching her sleeves and shaking. “N-nick?” She sounded scared as he watched a shudder wrack through her. 

“Nora, what’s wrong?” Her labored breathing had him pulling her back into him. She seemed to be foaming at the mouth. “No, baby no” he nearly dropped her in his shock, managing instead to cradle her to his chest as he fell to his knees. Her hand twitched up and he grabbed it tight. He’d seen cyanide poisoning before. He knew it hurt. There wouldn’t be enough time to get her a doctor, much less anyone who can treat a poison like this. “Please no.” He begged. Her chest was heaving, but he knew none of it would help her breathe. Her eyes were flitting around the room, unfocused and scared.

“Look at me Nora” He gave her hand a squeeze and her panicked eyes locked onto his glowing gaze. “I got you” He smoothed her hair back, winced at the pained groan falling from her lips.  “I love you Nora” and he knew it was likely the last thing she ever heard. He watched the light leave her eyes, her breaths fall short. It happened all too fast. 

He looked up around at everyone there, everyone’s reaction to what transpired. He would get to the bottom of this. He’ll find who did this. God help them when he did. 

Hancock:

Attitude

Sometimes he wished Nora would turn ghoul. He wondered if that drug he took was really the only hit ever. He didn’t care what she looked like, what the years would do to her, but he would never be ready to lose her. Not her smile, not her will to see the world made better, not her joy or her ability to see the potential good in everything around her. 

He always maintained visibility with her in battle. He’d been yelled at more than a few times for taking hits meant for her. He trusted her ability to protect herself, he knew just how incredibly capable she was, but nothing prepared him for the full blown animal panic he felt the first time he saw her go down. He fought like he hadn’t before even to save his life. He hated seeing her hurt, seeing her sick. She of all people deserved a long, healthy, pain-free life. He knew it was too late for the last one, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try to mitigate what he could. As far as he and the decent half of the commonwealth were concerned, she was a saint walking. The idea that he would somehow outlive her felt like a cruel joke.

He didn’t expect to breakdown like he did the first time he found a gray hair on Nora. He didn’t think she even woke up for it, him cradling her head on his chest, trying and failing to calm his hyperventilating with her even, rested breaths. He would make her a synth if he could, bottle her somehow and keep her like this, forever. If it wasn’t her worst nightmare he wondered if he could put her back in a cryo pod, wake her up for the best moments. She would hate it, he knows, but he dreams still, of having her around for every beautiful moment of his life. 

He knows he’ll never be ready for it, whether it comes in fifty years or tomorrow. He dreads what he’ll become when she’s gone. He knows she’ll want him to carry on her legacy, watch her settlements and keep people who just want peace safe. He would do it too, he thinks. It could become his singular drive, after her. He knows no matter what, when she’s gone he’ll just feel empty. He prays when she passes it will be peaceful, not scared or afraid or alone. He prays he’ll be there. 

When it happens

It was a political grab in the end. 

A tribe of raiders who didn’t know how she had restructured the minutemen to withstand her loss, an assassin killed seconds after they struck. 

He held her as she fell, cushioned her fall and put pressure on the wound. Packed it with clean cloth from the table that she made possible with her water purifiers and generators and traps and creative ability. It was such a brutal thing though, through the gut and up into the lung. She was supposed to be safe, she was just wearing a cotton dress. It did nothing against buckshot. He screamed for Curie.

 “Please baby, stay with me. Hold on, you’ll be okay. You’ll be okay sunshine.” He helped heave her onto the table, helped Curie access the wound, administered the med-x so she wouldn’t hurt, because god his sunshine was gasping. 

“She can’t breathe Curie, what do we do?” Curie looked like she wanted to cry, a very grim mask on her face. 

“We need to get her on oxygen or I need to get this lead out of her fast and hit her with a super stimpak. We don’t have oxygen.” Curie set to work removing each piece of buckshot, quickly and efficiently and he would never forget how Nora started to wheeze. She thrashed and he knew he had to hold her down when Curie grunted. 

“Hold on sunshine, you’ll be okay. Hold on for me.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead, placed a kiss upon it and prayed. He felt a hand on his head, caught a weak hand, laced his fingers with hers. He knew he was crying, he did during every scare, but when he caught that scared, spacy look in her eye he sobbed. “Curie, what’s going on-”

“I just keep finding more!” Curie yelled back at him, pulling out pellet after pellet. 

“Fuck, sunshine please. I don’t want a world without you. I love you.” He held their entwined hands to his face, pressed kisses to her fingertips. “Please, please, please” He wasn’t sure who he was begging. Her, god, fate? It was all happening so fast. He wasn’t ready. 

She wheezes, this awful hollow sound and he watches her eyes finally focus on him. “John?” She says it so light, so quiet, like a question. He just hoped she wasn’t as scared as she sounded. 

“Yeah sunshine, I'm right here. You’re okay.” He gave her hand a squeeze. She started to shake her head. “Please baby, you’re okay.”

“Shawn” she gave the tiniest squeeze to his hand. 

“I know baby, he’ll be okay. You know me an’ Curie and Nick and, an’ Codsworth. Ada. Strong. We- we got him. Just please hold on, hold on for me please sunshine.” He was begging at this point. She just tried to shake her head again. “Reserve your strength baby-”

“I- love you-” He hated the hollow, wet change to her voice. Her lovely, clear, beautiful voice. 

“I know sunshine.” He cut her off. “I love you too. So much. I will always love you.” She smiled, shook her head at that again. She got this faraway look in her eye. Curie pushed him away, injected the stimpack despite the countless bits of buckshot still within. She began administering CPR. After what felt like ages, Curie crumpled against Nora’s chest. She was shaking, he knew she was crying. He screamed. 

Curie:

Attitude

Curie always fretted over Nora’s health. She knew that Nora would age, that she could get hurt. Her own newfound vulnerability was certainly an adjustment when Nora got her a synth body. When she was able to actually feel it, she discovered that Nora’s vulnerability even compared to her, terrified her. 

She dedicated a lot of energy to watching Nora’s health when she realized that Nora herself didn’t pay much mind to it. She pestered Nora to eat a balanced diet, refused to move on from a fight without checking her over. When she needed stitches, Curie was the one stitching Nora up. When Nora needed medicine, Curie administered it. If Curie didn’t join Nora on an outing, she was worried until she laid eyes on Nora again. She wouldn’t let Nora settle in until she was certain Nora didn’t need treatment. 

The few times she saw Nora hurt, Curie felt more than she ever had in her life. She couldn’t focus on anything beyond healing Nora. She only really yelled if Nora was hurt and Curie was scared for her. If her and Nora fought, it was about the carelessness with which Nora dived into situations or her willingness to brush off an injury. The one time Curie ever yelled at Nora was when Nora insisted that the best plan of action for her bullet wound was to ‘walk it off’. 

Curie realized that realistically, she would far outlive Nora. Just like she outlived her researchers. She wouldn’t be alone, sure. Nora entrusted her with the long term guardianship of Shawn. She liked being a parental figure to him. They were both adjusting to synth life together, but she could still see so much of Nora in him. He felt like their son. Still, she knew she’d never be ready to say goodbye to Nora. Nora made her feel like she could understand being alive. She made her want to feel. She dreaded the day she’d have to say goodbye. All she could do was protect, care for, and cherish Nora while she had her. 

When it happens.

Curie wasn’t ready. She was not ready to watch Nora deteriorate. Cancer was an inevitability for many in the fallout riddled wasteland. She just wished it wasn’t Nora’s fate. Curie had dove into her research, but there was no safe way to treat it any more. By the time Curie found a way to potentially attack the cancer it had already reached her lymph nodes.

Curie and her friends had to hide their grief from Nora. They tried as best they could. Nora tried her best to stay upbeat through it all, shut down conversations about grief and dying. Pushed herself through dinners and parties and a few final speeches to the Minutemen. Gave her opinions as to potential succession. She started a journal, sitting for hours into the night writing down every useful piece of information she knew. Accounts of her life before the bombs, details of politics and culture. What poems she could remember, songs she loved, recipes and life tips, how-to guides and blueprints. She restructured what she could, Curie didn’t quite know how to break the news to Nora, but she seemed to know even before Curie told her. Nora set to work the moment she felt herself waver. She restructured everything about her settlements, built methods for local leadership and transfer of power and communication between settlements. Nora made sure that her radio system was robust. 

Curie hated all of it. The way Nora knew, the way she comforted her when she was telling Nora that she wouldn’t make it. The way she became unhurried, content to linger in moments. No more of that fire to act like she would never have enough time to do what she wanted. Now that Nora knew it was coming, she slowed down. She tried to hide it, but Curie knew Nora was so tired. She wouldn’t stop, but Curie knew she was slowing down to savor it. Like she wanted to remember what was happening. 

She hated it even more when it became clear Nora was hiding that it hurt. Curie and her friend group had to practically fight her to get her to rest. The last fight they ever had, Curie was sobbing, begging Nora to tell her what hurt, let her take care of her, stop pushing herself. Nora hated seeing Curie cry. The fight ended with Nora acquiescing, finally letting Curie take care of her, letting herself rest. It always took a bit of prodding to get an assessment of Nora’s pain, even more so to get her to accept pain relief. 

Curie found herself praying for one more day. Every night, when it looked like her love was wilting in front of her. Curie prayed for just one more day, found herself counting Nora’s breaths into the night. She found herself fearing this sleep she now needed, worried she’d awaken one morning to the love of her life cold beside her. She began staying up late into the night, holding Nora afraid of the moment her breathing would stop.

The night Nora passed was a painful one. Curie hadn’t left her bedside the whole day. Nora looked so tired, grimaced at just the idea of trying to move. Shawn was scared of visiting her now, had spent that morning crying into Nora’s lap, letting her run tired fingers through his hair and tell him that he would be okay, that she loves him, that he would never be alone, that he was always going to be her son. 

All of Nora’s friends were there, helping Curie and Shawn watch over Nora. They were desperate to talk to her, say their goodbyes without actually saying goodbye. As always they cringed through her morbid jokes at her own expense. No one wanted to point out to Nora that they weren't funny, that no one actually benefited from her death and no one was laughing at her new condition. 

That day Nora had more energy than normal. Fought Curie a little more about her med-x. Didn’t settle as much when Curie held her that morning. Held long conversations with each of her friends, refused to eat, if not occupied with conversation then with a book or writing. Nora and her friends felt hopeful about how she felt that night, but Curie knew otherwise. She tried not to cry. Prayed more than ever in her life for just one more day. One more day with her, please. 

The room was dark and quiet, just her and Nora. Curie held her that night, told her again how she loved her, despite her protests administering her nightly dose of painkillers because she could tell from the tightness in Nora’s limbs that she hurt. She counted Nora’s breaths as she drifted off to sleep, stroked her hair. She had nearly passed out herself when she heard what she always feared. She was shaking when she felt Nora’s breathing stop. She tried to resuscitate her. Begged for Nora to come back to her. Fought to keep her heart beating. She knew she was gone.

She was not ready to be alone.

Charon:

Attitude

Charon was willing to do a lot for Lone. Kill for her. Live for her. Die for her. She bought him, freed him, walked with him to help him realize he was free. She made him feel human again. 

There was a time, before he realized what she had done, when he wouldn’t have cared if she died. He’d seen plenty of peppy young things ground down by the wasteland, put a good few down himself. He expected to have his work cut out for him, taking care of this foolish waif of a girl. Even more so when she immediately tried to tear up the contract and “Declare him free and no longer bound to it”. She actually looked like she feared him when he explained what he was meant to do at the destruction of his contract.

Instead, she proved wildly capable, scarily adaptable. She took action without hesitation, and while he wished she would think before diving into other people’s problems he could never deny that she was brave. She was a crackshot, and there were times when she shot down every threat with her pistol before he even got a shot off. 

More often than not, she cared for him. Insisted he slept and ate, paid him money he found little use for considering she made sure he had a bed and food, and told him to fuck off on his apparently “mandatory breaks”. She wouldn’t let him go off with an injury, yelled at him when he got hurt and didn’t tell her. The only time they ever ordered him to do anything, was when they told him to run when the enclave came after them and the G.E.C.K. He spent a good time back in the underworld wondering why he felt so scared for this master, why he kept glancing at the door waiting for their crazy unkillable self to stumble through the door and drag him back out into some ill-planned charity scheme. Why instead of apathy or amusement he felt dread at the idea she wouldn't make it back.

He got his answer when he watched them walk into the water purifier. She walked into the same room where she watched her father die, didn’t even look back at her friends behind her. He knew all she needed to hear was “Lives are on the line”. He tried to stop her, but she was always fast. He hated the way her whole body shook and swayed from the radiation coursing through her as she tried to type in the code.

It was an answer he was slow to come to, waiting by the side of her bed. He thought she was a good person, better than any he had ever met. He thought she shouldn't have to do the things that she does. He thought the whole wasteland owed her a whole lot, himself included. He was free, he had realized over that bed. She was too clever to let him be anything but free, even when he could only imagine servitude. In a way he appreciated his role, not much before when people used him like a tool; but now, Lone showed him he was simply a man, and a skilled one at that. Poked and prodded and teased the humanity out of him, she insisted he deserved respect.

He followed this woman because he wanted to. He couldn’t think of wanting to spend time with anyone else. He loved hearing her talk, watching her work. He actually enjoyed talking when it was with her, even if he remained ever taciturn. He couldn’t imagine wanting to protect anyone else.

He realized he relished the work. She did good things, brought him to help her do good things. Protecting her, it felt like a good thing. Not erasing, but evening the score of the things he has done. It felt like repentance.  Whatever this woman decided she would do, he knew he wanted to be there to help her. He was free and his heart belonged to this woman because he gave it to her. It was not fear for himself and his future that caused his worry, there would be no masters after her. No, he loved her. And he did not want to live in a world without her. 

The panic that overtook him when he realized that fact was unlike anything he felt in decades. Here he was, with a love like a chain around Lone’s neck praying this wasn’t her deathbed, and nothing he could do. He didn’t think he was ever religious, but he started praying to something that night. 

She recovered, and he had to practically fight her to get her to rest instead of springing back into action. He tried hard to hide his newfound realization, but of course she noticed. He was talking more, speaking before he could even think. Pushing her not to take risks, to stay safe. Going out of his way to take bullets meant for her. He started telling her that she did enough, that she doesn't need to play hero, that she should stay safe and enjoy the relative safety she helped make. Of course she asked him what was up, offered him his contract again. 

It was hard explaining that he wanted to serve her, wanted to stay with her. Her inquisitive self pried out all the little secrets in his heart and was delighted at what she found. She accepted him wholeheartedly, despite the social stigma that came from it. She loved him, started to fight for him. She became more ferocious in her campaign to ensure those around her respected him and those like him. Wore the target that came with that like a badge of honor, sent those that challenged her off either with their tail between their legs or one extra hole in their body.  He became desperate to protect her. Anyone who wanted to so much as talk to her would have to go through him if he had any say about it. Disrespect, threats, towards her he would never tolerate. If she would try to protect him with her ferocity, he would protect her with every ounce of animosity in his soul.  

He took joy in being able to protect her, being the person she would lean on when life got hard. For the first time in as long as he can remember his life, his efforts had meaning. The paths she chose were good, she time and again fought to help people; ghouls even, people she didn’t know. She cared if they were getting enough food and water, cared to build communities, cared enough to forgive things he personally found unforgivable.  If anything he did could protect or support her, if it could bring her joy, it was worthwhile. 

How this undeniable good, loving, beautiful person could stand to love him, choose to fight for him he would never understand. He was something twisted and bent to serve a violent purpose, but if she would make him more, then his bloody talents would be hers without question. He found himself often musing over if there’s really anything he wouldn’t do for her, amusement only. She wouldn’t order him to do anything to save her life, just to save his. She was too good for this world, caught that idealism from her parents like a chronic disease. They’d both watched her father burn for it. He watched her brave radiation enough to knock a ghoul on their ass for those same ideals. He would never tell her, but he swore to himself he would protect her from herself if it came down to it. He would not stand by as she walked into hell, over his dead body. 

In the moment

“I said you’re a fucking lying bastard Maxon!” Charon had to physically hold her back. She was on the verge of tears. He knew she thought she could help change the brotherhood, help them become something more than the violent military group they were. He knew she thought they could be family. But they weren't good. Not like her. They found discrimination and massive civilian casualties to be the cost of doing business. Once again she was being betrayed by a group she thought she belonged to. 

“You will mind your words when speaking to elder Maxon.” A knight had a weapon trained on her. This was meant to be her dropping in to clear up a discrepancy. Instead they walked into a den of snakes, telling her she was being betrayed and that their favor was her being able to walk away alive. 

“Elder my ass! While he was a kid my father was dying for this project. My mom died dreaming of this project. I am willing to die for this project. She said free water for all and I’ll be damned if I don’t fight for it! You can just let people get it! There is enough for everyone! We have a caravan system going! You can’t just decide to cut people off-”

“Those aren't people” Some fascist in power armor spoke up. 

“Oh so that’s it? You’re gonna cut them off because they harbor-”

“Are infested by” Maxon corrected.

“God, Maxon what the fuck happened to you? You’re killing people with this decision, you know that?” Lone was full on crying. 

“I don’t have time for this, have them removed.” Maxon hardly looked at them as he began walking away.

“No you don’t!” Lone tried to go after him, lurching forward in Charon’s grip. 

“Lone, let's just go. We’ll figure something out.” This was getting dangerous and emotional, she wasn’t safe. He wanted to get her out of there so badly. 

“I’ll fucking kill you for this Maxon! You hear me! I’ll-” Charon pulled her back, lifting her flailing body and moving to carry her out before she decided to open fire, but he guessed someone decided not to give her the chance, hit just beneath her collarbone, into her lung. No exit wound. 

He ran, he had to get her out of there. He was thankful no one at the gate opened fire. He ran until he couldn’t see any signs of the brotherhood, and he would have ran more if not for the worrying amount of blood coating his shoulder. He shifted her and she let out a hollow, wet groan. He kicked his way into a boarded abandoned house, placed her on the rusty bed that had survived in the corner and tried to ignore the panicked wheezing sound she was making. He started looking through her pack, grabbed her med-x, stimpacks, alcohol, bandages, and tweezers.

“Charon-” She reached a clumsy hand out for him. He poured the liquor over his hands, soaked the bandages and tweezers. 

“I’m here” He brought everything over to her, felt her place a hand on his head, heard her wheeze again. 

“I got you” He set to work fast, administering the med-x before searching for the bullet. 

“Charon” She gasped out. Her voice sounded strained and wet. 

“You’re okay sweetheart”. He spoke with as much confidence as he could manage, but he knew the pet name betrayed him. She’d teased him about it before, how he only talks to her like that when one of them is fucked up. She wasn’t moving much, but she tried to shift her weight and groaned at it. “Save your energy” he commanded as he worked, placed a steadying hand over her sternum and felt it rise and fall as she breathed. He was scared of looking up at her face. He hated seeing her in pain. He just wished he could find this bullet-

“Charon” She sounded more desperate this time. “Please”. 

He glanced up at her face. It was so pale, she looked confused and scared. “I got you, you’ll be okay”. He reassured. She had lost so much blood. He just wanted to take care of this wound fast, get some stimpacks in her. Put this whole mess behind them. She wheezed again. 

“No, Charo-” 

“Please save your strength” He pleaded. She tried to move and he pushed her back, held her body in place. She stopped fighting him quickly, didn’t quite manage to hide the pained grunt from her exertion. Holding her down didn’t take as much strength as it should have. 

“Too much blo-” he hated how she talked about her injuries sometimes, like she herself was a doctor. He wanted to curse her medical background. 

“No” He felt himself shaking. She was so pale, but he couldn’t give up. 

“Listen” She pleaded. Would administering a stimpack now hurt her? He couldn’t find the bullet. He looked up, met her eyes. She looked scared. He really hoped he didn’t too. “I’m not”

“You’re gonna make it” He spoke firmly. 

“I’m not” She wheezed again. He felt her thumb pet one of the few patches of hair he had left. Normally he loved when she did that. “Charon, they’re gonna take-” 

“I know” He tried to hold back a sob. 

“I- stop them” She seemed desperate, he could practically see the lightheadedness getting to her. He felt the hand on his head briefly make a fist before flattening again. 

“I need you to hold on” he pleaded. “I love you, it's not time for you to go yet”. Fuck it, she’d lost too much blood, he can’t find the bullet and she was talking scary. He tried to ignore her wet hiss and his shaking hands as he administered the stimpack. 

“Charon” she whined. Her chest started heaving faster, like she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs. He held the hand not on his head. She felt too cold. He forced himself to meet her eye. “I love you” she spoke desperately in a whisper. 

“I know sweetheart” He spoke as softly as he could. Gripped her hand tight. Prayed the stimpack would be enough. They both knew it wouldn’t be. 

“Charon I’m scared”. She gripped his hand back as best she could. He lifted a bloody hand to grab the hand on his head, kissed the palm.

“You’ll be okay, I got you-” Fuck, he was crying. 

“Them, Charon don’t let them-” The words came in one wet gasp. 

“I won’t”. He promised.

“I have you”. He gathered her up in his arms, held her like he knew she liked, prayed she felt warm, because to him she felt freezing. He looked her in the eye, they were getting unfocused and distant now. “I love you” he spoke quietly, placed light kisses to her face, repeated it all for her in soft whispers till he felt her last scraping breath. 

He was screaming, he realized, when he came to sobbing over her body. 

He would bury her, he decided. Then, he had one final order to carry out.

Fawks: 

Attitude

He had suggested FEV before. Just once. Lone shot it down of course, wanting to be certain of maintaining her intellect. He couldn’t blame her. 

He was always hyper aware of how killable she was, from the moment she let him out. He ran into a lot of radiation explicitly because he knew she would not survive that much radiation. He realized she was a little less killable than he thought when she strolled out of the enclave, the entire faction in ruins, because, apparently to hear her tell it, of her being able to convince the computer that ran the place to blow everything up. 

She proved herself highly intelligent, but he often questioned her sanity considering some of the undertakings she willingly endured. When he would voice his objections on basis of safety, she would tell him she could handle it herself if he didn’t want to go. Of course he always went. 

He thought she was beautiful, and kind, and accepting. He fought down any and all romantic feelings toward her, relishing instead in being able to help keep her safe and in action throughout all her suicidal attempts at making the wasteland a better place to live. He was always legitimately shocked at her frequent success, and well as some of the situations she managed to just walk out of with nary a scratch. 

He was furious when she just walked into the water purifier the second she realized the stakes. Didn’t even ask him to help, just walked in and wobbled her way through typing in the code. He thought she died. Stayed by her bedside terrified she wouldn’t wake up. Felt joy like he couldn’t remember in ages when she did wake up. 

Unfortunately for him Lone was curious, mischievous at the best of times, shameless at the worst. She pulled a confession out of him one dark night holed up against a rad storm, himself two bottles of vodka deep (He was a lightweight for a supermutant). Herself quite tipsy, she proceeded to kiss the breath right out his lungs. The next day, she didn’t regret it, and suddenly he had what he thought impossible for him: Love. 

His desire to aid and protect her grew tenfold, and they got into a lot of fights about Lone walking into dangerous situations without him going first. He knew better than to tell her not to do something when she put her mind to it, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try and keep her safe. 

In the moment

“I don’t like the look of the rest of this compound” Fawks spoke warily, eyeing the change in wall material. 

“It could mean we’re closer to the G.E.C.K.” Lone chimed in from his side. 

“That could also mean we’re a lot closer to a lot of radiation. We need to be careful.” Fawks warned, gun ready for anything to pop out and attack. 

“Look!” Lone grabbed a finger, the closest she could get to holding his hand, and dragged him ahead to a large section of glass paneling looking down into a chamber with a small plate atop a pillar, with a great metal needle hanging from the ceiling above it. “It must be the G.E.C.K.!” She spoke excitedly, hands and nose pressed against the glass. “Where do you think the controls would be?” Lone looked down into the chamber. 

“I’m checking it out” Fawks spoke, opening the door and stepping into the larger chamber. When he looked behind him, he was exasperated to see Lone had followed behind him. He sighed, then looked to the wall below the glass panel. “Well, we found the controls”. 

“Perfect! The note said that once it's activated, it will start purging radiation from the surrounding wasteland and make the ground fertile. All we gotta do is figure out how to activate it.” Lone wandered to the panel, ran her hands over the buttons. “It’s a two person switch, or one really long person switch”. Lone announced, looking at the glass-enclosed dials on either end of the panel. “Lucky you got backup”. Lone looked at Fawks and winked, and he could only sigh. 

“On the count of three?” He opened his box, placed his hand on the dial, watching Lone do the same.” “One..Two..Three!” The machine was deafening when it turned on, sent a blast of air through the room.

“Fawks?” He didn’t even register her geiger counter going off till he realized she had crumbled to the ground. “Fawks?” He gathered her up in his arms, checked her pip-boy ignoring the shake in her limbs. Started sweating when he saw the geiger counter couldn’t go any higher. He couldn’t look her in the eye, couldn’t stop. He had to get her out of here now.

He ran for the door. It was locked, no handle and it was keypad operated. He kicked at the door, then the keypad, then what was left of the keypad, until finally the door opened. He ran up the hallway, up up up, to another door. Locked from the other side. Her geiger counter was still buzzing, quieting only slightly in comparison to the G.E.C.K. chamber. That was the door they came in, the only door that lead in and the only door out. He fell to his knees, started digging through the packs for radaway and rad-x. Placed a delirious Lone against the door, the farthest point from radiation and the quietest her counter could get. Ignored her groans when he held her arm still to roll up the sleeve and insert the needle. She seemed to come to, just a little bit. 

“Fawks?” She was looking up aimlessly. He held her much smaller hand in his. 

“I’m here love, I got you.” He grabbed some rad-x and purified water. “I need you to take this”. Lone scrunched up their face and groaned, but let him help them sit up, take the pills and then the water. Their eyes rolled down to their geiger counter. 

“I guess the door is locked?” Lone looked very tired. 

“Yes” he sighed. 

“Fawks, if I don’t-”

“You’re gonna make it Lone” He leaned forward, his head against the door, body arching over Lone. What he wouldn’t give to put those few inches of lead between there and Lone. 

“If I don’t” They spoke with a determination. “Don’t let the brotherhood horde this shit, yeah?” She smiled up at him, but her eyes didn’t seem to focus. 

“I’ll make sure” He promised. He was crying, he knew. 

“Hold me?” Her voice was so quiet. 

“Of course love”. He gathered her in his arms. Tried not to sob more when her geiger counter started getting louder. He started talking to her, trying to keep her awake, keep her responsive, but she seemed to zone in and out. 

He changed her radaway the second it was used up. He knew the side effects would be killer if she made it. If she made it. Did start sobbing when she yelped, pulled back at the feeling of the needle leaving her skin. She seemed confused. 

“Lone, its Fawks, I’m right here. This is gonna hurt but you’ll be okay” She nodded slowly, he exposed the needle on the new radaway, slid it into her skin right where the last had been, held her arm still for it because she was crying and shaking. He just held her arm still and held her. He checked repeatedly if he could get the door to open, praying it was just a time lock, but it held fast. She cried more when he turned away to check, and he really just wanted to hold her. 

He resolved to hold her, kiss her and igraine the smell of her hair into his memory. He kept trying to talk to her, got some sporadic half logical replies during the second bag of radaway. The geiger counter got louder, and they may as well have been back in the larger room. The third bag of radaway she was only able to sporadically say his name. He pressed kisses to her forehead, her brow, her nose her cheeks her lips her chin. Told her he loved her, over and over again. Halfway through the fourth bag, she stopped responding, and by the end of it her eyes had glazed over. He knew she was gone. He thought he was gonna lose his mind. 

Two weeks later, the door opened. The world he stepped out into was green.

I think I mighta spelled fawks wrong but he can eat my a$$ about it.

[impala-dreamer]

Colder Weather

A Supernatural Story

~Dean's always been the one for you, but his life - hunting, fighting, almost dying constantly- it hasn't given you a chance to try. Until one day, things seem to change...~

Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester (briefly)

2858 Words

Warnings: Bittersweet Romance, Angst, Glossy Smut. - Set somewhere inside the SPN Finale - S15E20, Carry On. - Just so beautiful and painful and ... damnit. I did, in fact, cry a few times while writing... 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

It’s the strangest thing. His skin is so incredibly soft in some places, so rough and tortured in others. He’s covered in scars, lines thick and faded to a dull white; holes where bullets have torn him through, but around those imperfections lie a universe of freckles covering the softest skin she’d ever felt.

His fingertips are forever calloused but so tender when they’re caressing her flesh, scooping up into her, even roughly holding her down. There’s fire in his soul but his kiss is pure love, lips so cracked but plush, smooth and tingling as they trail across her cheek, slide down to taste her.

Everything about him is a contradiction. He’s brave yet scared, strong yet fragile, quiet but so loud when he’s in her arms. He could talk forever with one cheek on the pillow they share, green eyes staring into hers as if blinking would break the spell.

He talks of forever, of leaving his life and settling down somewhere in the woods by a stream. He wants to spend his days fishing and learning to finally play the guitar for real. He wants to stand in the sunshine and breathe deeply, close his eyes for once and not be worried about something attacking from the shadows. He wants to put down his blade, lock up his gun, put it all behind him. He talks of nights spent by a little fireplace wrapped in her arms, fighting for space beneath a handmade blanket while the wind howls against the old windows. He wants to wake to her sleeping face, to brush the hair back from her cheek and kiss her delicate eyelids. To wake her with love, not an alarm. He wants to take his time, ride out the rest of his life by her side.

She teases him that they’d be bored after a while, that a fantasy like that would never last, but he swears that it would. Says with her, he could never be bored, he’d never want for anything ever again as long as she was there. Her cheeks burn from smiling and she bites her lip to hold it all in, but that only makes him want to kiss her, and they roll under the sheets once more.

Every time with him is the same.

There’s a text, maybe a call if he’s desperate to hear her voice.

‘I’m nearby. Wanna buy me a drink?’

‘Passing through on Tuesday, you around?’

She’s always around it seems, life hitting pause when her phone rings. She would put aside the entire world just to see Dean Winchester walk through her front door. And she does.

It’s a Thursday the last time she sees him darken her front steps. The sky is a deep oily gray with lighter clouds than makes sense. It’s been raining on and off for hours and the midday sun is lost behind the airy cover, lighting the edges of the world but only enough so that he didn’t have to turn the headlights on.

She heard the car anyway, didn’t need to see the familiar sweep of light across her front windows.

She’s at the door before he’s even got the driver’s side door shut and she hears the creak of metal, wonders why he’s never oiled the hinges. Everything else about the car is perfect; from the sheen on the tires to the way the raindrops slick off the hood and slid down the windows in a race to the ground. She can close her eyes and smell the old, worn leather in her dreams. Something comforting and warm even on a chilly day like this. She can feel the springs in the backseat give as Dean lays her down. Remembers the feel of the felted roof beneath her fingertips, the cool chrome pressing into her back. So many nights spent driving out into the middle of nowhere and finding bliss in the backseat together.

Dean looks up as he closes the door and a smile tugs at his pink lips. Realization catches in her stomach and Y/N wonders if he’s ever looked happier. His hair is a bit longer than last time they met, his face a little fuller, features more relaxed. He looks good, content. She dares to think: happy.

Even in his lighter moments, there’s always a darkness in Dean’s eyes. Something nagging at his thoughts, some horror lurking that she can’t get near. She would, if he’d let her. She would dig down deep into his soul and scrape away all the pain, all the scarred bits of him until he could breathe again. But he keeps her just far enough away that it’s always a mystery to her. She knows of his life, of the things that lurk in the night, but he never lets it touch her. Not once has she feared for her life, never have the monsters of the world knocked at her door. She’s his secret. His lifeline to normal. His good dream.

But now, he smiles so easily it almost scares her. Her cheeks twitch and she bites her lip, watching as he gallops up the walkway and takes the steps two at a time until she’s in his arms.

He smells like tacos from the road and is so warm she melts right into him, her face in his chest, her arms sliding around to hold him close.

“Dean.”

She looks up and he beams down at her, green eyes fresh and clear, cheeks rosy with a grin.

“You gonna invite me in or we gonna do this out here?”

She laughs at his assumption and slaps his chest as she backs away. She turns to go inside, but he grabs her arm, spins her back to him. His big hand catches her cheek and his thumb curls beneath her chin, lifting her face gently. His kiss is familiar yet striking, wet and hungry. She breaths him in too deeply and stumbles when he lets her go, dizzy and so in love.

“Won’t you please come in, Mr. Winchester?” she teases, bowing her head to invite him inside.

He chuckles softly and takes her hand, fingers slipping in between hers so easily it’s like they’ve been there forever. He kicks the door shut behind him with one muddy boot and the rain is left to carry on without them.

She shoves the jacket from his shoulders, nips at the tip of his ear. He kicks his boots off, paws at her chest.

They stumble through the living room, desperate for the empty expanse of her bed while they strip the road from his back. Naked and shivering, they fall together onto the blankets with searching hands and warm, hungry lips.

He’s starving for her, but he takes his time. Slowly savoring every inch of delicate flesh, he drinks her in, tastes everything she has to give. Relentless, he doesn’t stop until she’s breathless and begging for him.

His name reaches Heaven, pushed like a prayer from her kiss-swollen lips.

When it’s done, they lay tangled in the sheets, fingers laced, hearts synced.

She stares, counting the flecks of gold in his gorgeous eyes, pondering the changes she feels in him.

“You’re starin’ right through me,” he says, blushing like a fool.

Y/N shakes her head gently and lays her hand on his cheek. The stubble sparks against her palm and she rubs her thumb across his cracked bottom lip.

“Not through you,” she answers honestly, “never through.”

He kisses the pad of her finger and smiles. “Hope you like whatcha see.”

“I do.” She leans in, fingers sliding back to scrape lightly over his scalp. “I really do…”

Their kisses are soft and lingering, lazy. Leading nowhere. There’s no urgency, no push to overtake the other. It’s just peace and love and wanting to be close.

Dean catches her in his big arms, closing his hug around her head and kissing her hair. She laughs against him, captured and terribly, wholly happy.

She can hear his heart beating, feel it ticking beneath her cheek. It’s steady and calm, so different from the hundred times before.

“What’s up with you?” she asks, her words slipping out before she thinks them.

He sighs, relaxed. “What do you mean? I’m good. I’m… really good.”

“That’s… kinda what I mean.” Pushing back, she looks up at him and lets her head rest on his bicep. “You just… You seem different. So happy. There’s no… I don’t know, you’ve always got this dark cloud over you and today… it’s gone.”

Dean’s smile falls but it’s not for sadness. His lips pucker and smooth out, the dimples pop above his lip as he thinks about her words and how to answer. Thick lashes distract her for a moment as they flutter over a constellation of freckles and his deep whisper almost makes her jump.

“Something happened, Y/N. I’m still not sure if it was good, but I think it was. I really do. And… things are different now. There’s… hope. I have hope for the first time. I can see a future for me… for-” He takes a breath and brushes his fingertips across her cheek. “-for us, maybe. A real future. Not random hookups every few months. I mean… a real, honest life together.”

Shock washes over her and bubbles up into tiny laugh. She swallows it down and stares at him, her eyes flickering between his, in awe and surprised.

“Dean, I-”

Suddenly shy, he pulls his hand away, but she grabs it, puts it back against her cheek.

His voice cracks. “I didn’t mean to just assume-”

She kisses his palm. “Dean… I have never wanted anything more than to be with you. I hope you know that.”

The smile that spreads across his face is true and stunning and Y/N can’t help but trace it with her fingertips.

“You are so beautiful, Dean.” Her eyes float across his lips, his crooked nose, the deep seated crease between his eyes. “If you are happy, so am I. I mean that. And if… whatever happened has opened something up for you to be able to be with me… then- I mean- of course, I’m yours, Dean. Of course I am. I always have been.”

He crushes her like he’s afraid she’ll disappear, breathes her in as if she’s the only air in the room.

When the moment settles, he tells her everything. He talks of God and how they defeated the biggest evil in every universe. Of Jack saving them, bringing the world back and setting everything right. Wipes away tears when he tells her about Castiel and how he gave up his soul to save him. He smiles, amazed at how he and Sam finally broke away from fate and their horrid lives. He talks about feeling free for the first time in his life and how he’s thought of nothing else but being with her, of running away and starting their life together.

Y/N clings to him, listening with all of her being. She’s confused but grateful that he’s opening up, nervous to hear some parts, but happy that it all ended well.

Silence holds them close as they drift off to sleep, promises made and minds at ease.

He’s going to take her away for a while, somewhere with sand and sun and little rum drinks with neon umbrellas shoved in their tops. He wants to rub sunblock on her shoulders and run through the waves, feel the world around him, feel alive and safe.

He just has a few things to finish up back home.

One more hunt.

Then he’s out for good.

It should be easy, he says as he kisses her forehead and squeezes her hand. “More like one last road trip with my brother, really. Do what we do best, ya know?”

“Do you have to?” she asks, sad to see him go. “You could just text him. Doesn’t have to be such a dramatic farewell.”

He laughs and sucks his tongue against his front teeth. “Nah. Sammy deserves more than a text. Besides, I want to tell him all about you and that’ll take a while. And I gotta pack up my room, give the car a tune up and then-” He reaches down and wraps an arm around her back, tugging her close. “Then it’s you and me and clear blue waters, baby.”

He grins and she pushes up on her toes, sealing it all with a kiss.

She watches from the door until the brake lights are faded, until the glint from the chrome doesn’t catch her gaze anymore.

Days pass without a word.

There’s no answer when she calls, no reply to a text, nothing.

Worry stirs in her gut and Y/N spends the third night pacing her livingroom, running a trench into the hardwood with her barefeet. There’s an aching fear deep inside and she jumps whenever headlights strike her window.

It’s never him.

Panic wraps itself around her and she grips the phone, calling every number she has for him, listening to every voicemail intro like they’re ripping her soul open.

“Dean, please- whatever is going on, just call me. Please. I just need to know that you’re alright.”

It’s two in the morning when the line picks up. Her heart stops midbeat and pain webs across her chest. She takes a breath and presses the phone to her ear.

“Dean?”

She’s near to fainting waiting to hear his voice, but it’s not Dean who answers.

He clears his voice, takes a breath. “Uh- No, it’s… This is Sam.”

“Sam.” She says his name and her hands start to shake so badly it’s hard to hold the phone. “Um… Hi. I don’t know if you know who I am, I don’t know if Dean ever- well… My name’s Y/N. Dean was- We were-”

Sam exhales quickly and she can hear the tears on his breath. “I know who you are. He… Dean told me about you.”

“Oh. Good.”

This is wrong, she thinks. Something’s wrong.

She closes her eyes, blocking everything but the white noise in the background and Sam’s heavy breath. “Is he there?”

The pause is painful. She holds her breath, ready to scream, to run, to collapse in on herself.

“Sam?”

She can hear his hard swallow, a swipe of fabric across a wet cheek.

She can’t stand it.

“Is he dead?” she whispers. Her eyes are flooded already, jaw clenched so tightly against her trembling that her teeth ache. “Sam-”

“He’s… He’s gone.”

She can feel herself falling, takes the crash of her knees into the floor like it’s nothing. Her limbs go numb, her eyes blur.

She doesn’t want to ask but she has to know, has to understand.

“What happened?”

Sam’s voice is so low she has to strain to hear him.

“It was… it was so stupid. We, uh- It was just a milk run.” He hangs there for a long moment as memory washes over him. “I tried. I wanted to get him to the hospital but it was too late. I couldn’t- I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save him.” He trailed off, losing against his tears. “I’m so sorry.”

She wasn’t sure how long she’d laid there on the floor but it felt like forever. Her back was aching, body craving water after shedding so many tears.

She crawled to the bedroom, struggled up onto the bed and hid her face in his pillow. He always took the left side when he was there, always nuzzled deep into the down, said he loved her pillows.

The sheets still smelled like him and she pushed her face into them, wondering how long it would be before his scent left her for good. She clawed at the pillow, crushed it to her face, wanting to suffocate, die with him on her last breath.

“Dean…”

It’s the strangest thing. The sand is soft and yielding but rough between her toes. It’s hot too, like the sun has penetrated every tiny grain with heat and its pushing into her with each step.

It feels good.

She walks along the beach, skirting the waves as they breach the shore and threaten to overtake her. She stares out into the waves, squints at the sun. She sees the ocean for the first time and thinks of him. Of how tanned his face would be under the tropical sun, of how silly he’d look slathering lotion on his nose when he started to burn. She dreams about watching the sunset over the water, their asses sinking into the damp sand, the breeze tickling their cheeks.

Her heart aches for him but the tears never come anymore. She hugs her arms over her chest and closes her eyes, imagining his warmth, his love. If she tries really hard, she can feel his lips on her cheek, his firm chest pressing into her back, holding her close.

In some small way, he’s always with her.

And she holds onto that until the day she can see him again.

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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[mrs-snape5984]

“Oh, but what will it take ‘till you believe in me the way that I believe in you?”

“I said I love you, that's forever. And this I promise from the heart, I couldn't love you any better. I love you just the way you are…” (“Just the way you are” by Billy Joel)

I will turn 40 years old in two months. 40 goddamn years on this planet…and only now - at my lowest point in my existence - I realised something. All my life, I’ve been hidden behind a mask. A mask, made of all my responsibilities and supposed duties, which I’ve put on from a far too young age. A mask, which helped me to hide all my ugly vulnerabilities and my true self from other people. A mask, which I thought would keep me going and going for lengths…hiding myself behind an “I’m fine” or a “No, it’s okay!”. A mask, which also came with the capability of erecting thick walls around my heart and soul…building a fort around the real Julia.

21 years ago, when I’ve found the perfect coping mechanism for myself in the love to Severus Snape, I started to allow myself being vulnerable in my little stories about Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules. Only Severus was permitted to know, what’s really going on behind this mask. He became the safe space for my deepest thoughts and emotions…the only place, where I’ve granted myself the right to express my own wishes.

And suddenly, after almost 40 years of existing in this world, I recognised, that there’s a drawbridge to my fort…and that there’s someone, who’s brave enough to knock on my door. Someone, who isn’t afraid of looking at the personality behind my mask. Throwing all my unpleasant traits at them, the defensive guards of my fort tried to scare them off in an almost desperate attempt…pushing them away to protect my raw core from being seen.

But my guards got propitiated by this someone. One after the other, they laid down their weapons and lowered the drawbridge ever so slightly…centimetres for centimetres…until someone slipped into my fort…getting a glimpse of the real Julia behind the mask. They made themselves comfortable within the black walls of my fort and switched a light on. This little light is shining through the eyes of my mask now…and it didn’t stay unnoticed.

All of a sudden, some people started to notice a change in my mood, my behaviour and my attitude. Even my children are wondering about the unfamiliar lighthearted happiness of their mother…despite the confines of my disease ME/CFS. Someone lit a fire in the darkest corners of my heart…and for the first time in my life, I allowed myself to acknowledge my own wishes and hopes. Maybe, I don’t have to hide myself behind walls and a mask the whole time? Maybe, there’s even some beauty in the rawness of my soul? Maybe, I’ll be bold enough to act on my own dreams and desires for once? Maybe, this time, I’ll be brave enough to stand up for myself…and let myself heal. Maybe, for once, the mask will be discarded for someone.

As always, when I’m thinking of these complex urges to express myself through Severus and Jules, I commissioned my dear friend @madfantasy to help me by creating the perfect artwork for my ideas. Mani, you beautiful gem of a human being, you’ve outdone yourself with these masterpieces! When I explained my imagination of Jules, showing herself to others (here presented as an audience behind the green flames of the fireplace) only behind the alleged safety of her well worn mask, I wouldn’t have thought, that your realisation of this idea would even be possible like that. But again, it seems as if you’re capable of understanding the pictures on my mind. Thank you for your willingness to hold the paint brush…helping me to pour my emotions out into art. Feel hugged, my precious friend.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[kitasgloves]

"Medicine"

tracklist

— ♬ "And how can I refuse? Yeah, you rid me of the blues"

— ♬ Semi x Reader, timeskip, SFW, fluff, gen reader, friends to lovers, musician! Semi, sickfic, no beta

In a cloudy-eyed world, Semi Eita searches for clarity. He's searching for something to bring fresh oxygen back to his lungs, something to make him feel alive, just something that will get rid of this sickness he has of heartbreak. Romance wasn't always a winning game for Semi having experienced heartbreak for most of his life. He has felt it in various ways but it often ended up with him feeling tethered and torn or permanently stuck in an endless cycle of having a sick day. He couldn't get up and remain in bed with the desire to rot. With no energy, no motivation, or inspiration. Semi couldn't feel his limbs as he exposed himself to self-sabotage.

And then you ripped the air out of his lungs while giving it back. It scared Semi in the beginning because the truth was he always fell quickly and hard. He's afraid that you won't catch him or you'll leave him hanging, possibly also scarred and in a worse state than before. However, you proved him wrong. God, he always wanted you to prove him wrong. That you wouldn't do any of that to him. To see you in a crowd whenever he sang with his band, to feel your eyes focus on him whenever he played his guitar, to smell your perfume when you sat next to him after the show, to hear your laugh every time he said something funny, and to taste what it feels like to be alive beside you. Semi craved it all.

Your first encounter with him was at your friend's birthday party, he was invited with his band to perform and you just happened to be brave enough to strike up a conversation. You told him nice things, innocent compliments about his talent in music and his taste in fashion that he secretly takes seriously. You came across as sincere that it was hard for Semi to turn you down when you asked for his number.

"I'll see ya around, Semi"

"...You too, [Name]"

The two of you exchanged text messages and occasionally had phone calls until the dead of night. It was so easy for him to connect with you, he's convinced that his soul fits well with yours. But you felt so close yet so far. Semi knows it's inevitable not to fall for you, not when you look at him with those glimmering eyes. It was hard not to look back at you as if you held the keys to the universe's secrets. However, Semi was too caught up in his last heartbreak to shoot his shot, he didn't want to rush into things knowing he was not prepared yet. And in tandem with this, he needed to leave.

"Why are you leaving?"

You pouted at him on your front porch drinking cola during the summer heat. Semi explained that he and his band wanted to sign a record label overseas in hopes it would boost their career as a band. You hummed in understatement, Semi was forever grateful for how understanding you were.

"I might...I might never come back"

"Oh. You want to live there?"

"I wanted to give it a try"

There was silence as Semi wondered if he was doing the right thing. You sip on your drink and watch the children play across the street. Semi finds it hard to say bye, even in the state of him and you. If you ever ask him to not go, how can he refuse? You rid him of the blues, ever since you came into his life.

"When are you leaving?"

"A week from now"

"Well in the case..."

You finished your cola with one gulp and grinned at him. Semi could never know what's going on in that pretty head of yours, but he knows he'll do anything you ask.

"Let's make the most of this week, right Eita?"

It sounded like a promise and Semi was willing to hang on to it. His following week became eventful with you dragging him wherever you went. From hiking to stargazing, from road trips to sleepovers, from concerts to picnics, you never gave him a rest and he enjoyed it. All because he got to spend his remaining days with you here before he leaves. Tonight, the two of you went bowling and now Semi is teaching you how to play guitar in his room.

"Now, just move your finger up a bit...there! You got it!"

"Just watch, Eita. I'll get better than you! I'm coming for your career!"

You joked and playfully strummed his guitar. Semi couldn't help it when he reached forward to fix your hair out of your eyes. You went still, gazing at him as if awestruck and he could already feel his face heating up. He clears his throat.

"Let's clean up and get to bed, I'm feeling kinda tired"

Both of you brushed your teeth and changed into your sleeping clothes. Semi took the futon while you occupied his bed, something you two argued days ago for almost an hour before ultimately deciding through rock-paper-scissors. As he closed his eyes that evening, he smiled, believing that this was the happiest moment in his life.

That morning, Semi wakes up feeling groggy and his body heavy. He groans when his head begins to spin, and he feels nauseous too. He sees your face looking down at him with concern in your features.

"Are you okay, Eita?"

"I feel...hot"

"Damn, I think you got a fever"

You say when you brought your hand against his forehead, he huffs. You walk away to fetch a damp towel to place against his forehead. You help him get comfortable as you drape a blanket over his shivering figure.

"Rest up. I'm gonna make you some soup and get you some medicine"

"Thanks"

You smile at him and patted his shoulder. Semi can feel his heart swell at how caring you were. He felt a bit guilty because it was his last day with you before he leaves tomorrow, he wanted to spend today outside doing god knows what, not having you take care of him. He hopes he gets well before his flight tomorrow. But as you return with homemade soup and medicine for his fever, Semi thinks he'll have a speedy recovery.

Hours later Semi can feel his head spinning and growing hazy. Damn, this was one hell of a fever. But you made sure you were within his reach when he needed anything. God, his heart never felt so full, he couldn't name anyone else who was willing to take care of him when he got sick. As you go over to check on him again and bring him lunch, Semi loses his self-control.

"I...I wanna marry you"

You freeze when you unpack his food, your head whips towards Semi when he blurts those words out. He looks at you, softly. You gulped as you waited for a punchline or some excuse, when the silence was prolonged, you began to panic.

"What did you say, Eita?"

"Said I...I adore you"

That was not what he said but he made you feel the same thing. Your heart skipped beats, you were crossing your fingers hoping he'd take it back. Or not. But Semi doesn't crack a smile and keeps looking at you like he's never gonna let you go. Semi knows it's too late, he could explain that it was his fever talking. Yet after seeing your reaction, he refrains from elaborating further. Semi finds it sad that's all he has to say and bye-bye, once he leaves the country. You opiate his hazy mind that he becomes impulsive.

"Eita?"

"...Yeah?"

"You know, I like you, right?"

"Of course"

"I like you more than that"

"Oh"

"More than friends"

"Oh"

You looked precious all flustered and timid that he wanted to hold you forever. This could all be a fever dream, but Semi was proven otherwise when you inch closer to him to intertwine your fingers with him. His heart jumps, unable to believe his eyes. He sharply inhales.

"[Name]..."

"I want to be yours, Eita"

"But I'm leaving-"

"I don't care. I love you and I want to make this work"

If he wasn't sick right now, Semi would've picked you up in his arms and spun you around. But what you said made him regain some strength to lean forward and kiss your cheek. You let out an adorable giggle that makes his internal organs feel like mush.

"Shit, I probably shouldn't have kissed you. You might catch a fever too"

"It's fine, I don't mind. Just rest up so you'll be well before you leave tomorrow"

"You're serious about what you said?"

"Of course, ya dingus!"

"Man, I think I feel better already"

"So, my confession got rid of your fever?"

"No, it's you, my darling. Because you're my medicine"

Your face goes entirely red and he chuckles. Call him crazy but he thinks he doesn't want to leave tomorrow, maybe he should just call off everything so he could stay here with you. After all, Semi didn't want to be apart from you, his medicine.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[misscherry-26]

The Billionaire and the Stripper.

CHAPTER TWO.

Summary: Billionaire businessman, Ari Levinson, seems to have everything he could ever want: wealth, power, and success. But beneath the surface, he is haunted by his troubled past and the demons that have plagued him for years. Y/N Y/L/N is a stripper struggling with dreams of a better life. She may not have much, but she knows how to survive and make the most of what she has. But when one night Ari walks into the club Y/N works at, he is immediately captivated by her presence and drawn to her in a way that he cannot explain. As they embark on a passionate and intense relationship, they must confront the challenges and obstacles of their vastly different lifestyles. Can Ari and Y/N bridge the gap between their two worlds and find a way to make their relationship work? Or will their differences prove too great to overcome, tearing them apart forever?

Pairing: Billionaire! Ari Levinson x Stripper! Reader

Warnings: Mature content. Mention of the objectification of women (slight)

Author's note: Back into writing! I missed it a lot, but life lately has been harsh on me so I didn't have time to sit and write. This one is short but honestly it's all I got for Ari. Good thing is we get to know him. No proofread. All mistakes my own. Let me know your thoughts about this chapter after reading. Enjoy it!!

Series masterlist.

ARI

Ari doesn't know why he still frequents these places. He should have stopped coming a long time ago. But he can't and he knows why. Here he does not care about his past, present, or future. Here is nobody. This is where his responsibilities, decisions, and thoughts vanish.

So after twenty minutes of waiting, it's more than obvious that the last thing he would want is to be able to release his frustration. If he had done it himself, he would have been faster.

But this woman, not only had the audacity to be late but also to insult him. Who does she think she is?

But whatever anger, perhaps, that he felt at that moment, vanished as he turned and saw her for the first time. The woman was young and beautiful. perfect. She was wearing black lace lingerie which was ridiculously covered by a thin robe of the same color, only more transparent, so he could see everything. Her eyes seemed to mesmerize him. And when it seemed that something inside it opened, a great gray mist covered it. And he went back to her original facade. To be an idiot.

"Not so brave now, huh?" Ari smiles playfully. "I'm surprised, for a moment I thought I had heard that wrong"

TWO HOURS BEFORE

Ari suddenly wakes up, his chest moving up and down faster. Again the same nightmare. Sometimes he just thinks about how everything would feel if he didn't have those nightmares. Those memories that long ago were real.

He wonders what it would feel like to be normal. To just travel around the world knowing those not-so-well-known places that save amazing stories. He did travel around the world, although those travels were work-related. Dirty work.

Fuck, he curses. He needs to distract himself again because he already knows, like every other night, that he won't be able to sleep again.

"So? Cat got your tongue princess?" he steps closer to the beautiful woman, gently caressing her cheek. But he quickly takes it off when he sees her closing her eyes. She is scared. He knows those gestures so well.

Ari is hit by another memory again—one when he is back to his teenage years.

“Fuck… Just get out of here.” he sighs. "I don't want it tonight"

The woman is about to say something but he doesn't give her the time and instead decides to hurry and get the hell out of the room.

Taglist (open): @bunnyforhim @wintasssoldier

@buckysteveloki-me @magnificentsaladllama

@yoruse @patzammit @moonlightdivine

@alessandraavengers @xx-rennyxx

[the-wiggler]

I hope we kiss goodnight, it might just end my life

phyiscally cannot stop thinking about elliot and sunshine and im projecting bad in this fic but shhhh im allowed to.

sypnosis: sunshine cant sleep, except when elliot is around. [title is from Kiss Goodnight by IDKHOW]

word count: 1.1k

Their eyes slowly fluttered open, blue morning light washing over their room, tinting everything in the same hue. They were facing the ceiling now, their blanket tangled between their legs. 6 am. Their eyes fluttered shut, a weary sigh filling the empty room. That was what…2 hours of sleep? It’s better this way. Force themselves to sleep later, the self-induced insomnia meant that their brain prioritises deep sleep over REM, the dream-having sleep phase. That was what their therapist said anyway. Less sleep means less REM means less dreams means less nightmares.

Sure, it was an “unhealthy” coping mechanism, with its “averse” side effects, and a method their therapist “highly discouraged”. But if it meant fewer nightmares, Sunshine would brave the sluggishness, the irritation, the occasional nausea and the concerned looks from their friends.

Like now, as they sat on the worn, soft couch of Elliot’s apartment. Sinking into the worse-for-wear leather, scratched and faded in a way that perfectly matched Elliot’s second-hand-vintage-found-on-the-side-of-the-road-borderline-trash-esque design choices, they avoided the watchful gaze of their friend and hoped that their concealer had done a good enough job to cover their eyebags.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I think you look amazing as you are, Sunshine,” He chuckled, settling down next to them, “But, uh, you’re looking a little….worse for wear.”

Ok so maybe the concealer wasn’t doing the best job.

They waved their hand dismissively, making up some excuse about jobs, life, busy this, busy that, no time to rest. It came easily now. Lying, that is. And it wasn’t really a lie, they had filled and jam-packed their schedule full of random events to avoid a moment of rest, should they accidentally slip back into the ever-inviting embrace of sleep.

Not good enough for Elliot, though. As they watched his brow furrow in a way that made them want to instinctively smooth out, they racked their brain to reassure Elliot. There was, after all, no need to pile on more shit to Elliot’s plate.

“I’ve just been having trouble sleeping is all,” They reassured him quickly, “Nothing to worry about, I got some melatonin pills and it’s just taking some time to get used to.”

He conceded with one last concerned look, before turning his attention to the TV. “Alright, so, I was thinking for tonight, we could watch…The Tunnel? Or….Final Prayer?”

Now it was their turn to quirk an eyebrow. “You want to watch a horror movie? Mr. Never Watched FNAF, Mr. Scared of the Babadook, Mr-”

“Ok listen, I think we both know that the 4th FNAF game is genuinely horrifying. And, well, no, I’d much rather watch an actually feel-good movie. But if my bestest friend of all time has been raving about how wonderful this movie is, and has been feeling down, I will concede and watch whatever mind-fucky content you so eagerly consume as a coping mechanism. I’m simply fulfilling my best friend duties. No matter how messed up it is. And I will ignore how the fact that you watch horror movies as a coping mechanism is a major red flag and possibly a sign of a budding serial killer. Because I’m such a good friend. The best, even. ”

They scoff indignantly, “Ok, yeah I’m the serial killer. Says the one whose forever excuse is Sorry, was burying the bodies.”

It always starts like this. As Elliot loads up the movie, they make sure to maintain a completely platonic distance between them, two friends sitting on a couch, five feet apart because they are not pining for their ridiculously attractive, soft-hearted best friend. Elliot scoots closer, the leather dipping under his weight, forming a crater around them, cocooning them together, pushing Elliot closer to them. They feign annoyance as Elliot shoots a mischievous look at them. “Oh don’t think you’re getting away scot-free, Sunshine. I might be sacrificing several nights of sleep to cheer you up, but you’re going to be my human shield tonight. Trade-offs.”

Despite this, he wraps an arm around them, the dip of the couch pushing them snugly into his side. Who’s protecting who, Elliot? Regardless, they lean into his touch, his hand gently moving up and down their arm.

They blink.

The blanket around them definitely did not belong to them, but smelled familiarly comforting in a way that broke down all of Sunshine’s defences. Half asleep and not fully cognizant of their surroundings, they push themself deeper into the blanket burrow around them, instinctually chasing the fuzzy feeling of slowly waking up in the morning after a good, solid, rejuvenated night of sleep.

“Morning sleepyhead.” A familiarly husky voice; and the words don’t register, nothing but the groggy understanding that this voice emanated safety, understanding, and protection pulled Sunshine out of their dazed state. They push themselves up, rubbing their eyes to see Elliot standing there, morning hair unruly, beaming down at them. “You zonked out last night on my couch.”

Too groggy to come up with a retort, they lean into him as he sits next to them. He makes a noise of surprise, but otherwise lifts his arm to allow them to press into his side. “You’re oddly snuggly Sunshine,” He chuckles, pulling them closer, “And you fall asleep every time we hang out, am I that boring?” They half-heartedly slap his chest, feeling his chuckles reverberate through them. They sit there, in silence, simply enjoying the slow mornin in each others presence before Elliot clears his throat awkwardly.

“Anyways, uh, how was your sleep last night?”

“Good,” They mumble, “Slept well.” No nightmares, no dreams at all, actually rested. Better than they had all month

“That’s uh-that’s good.”

“Only ever sleep well when you’re around.” Still sleep-addled and fueled by the simple wants of the heart, they bring their arms to wrap around his torso, mumbling sleepily against his chest, “Maybe you’re magic.”

As they drift off back into a dreamless sleep, Elliot’s hands move to pull them in closer. Pressing a kiss to the crown of their head, he whispers, his voice impossibly soft, yearning dripping from his words, “Just for you, Sunshine.”

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.58 Still scared

I appreciated her asking, but the question blindsided me and I hesitated to answer. The issues that still haunted me were mine to work through, and I didn't want to burden her with them. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel even the slightest bit of regret. But I couldn't lie to her and say everything was fine. No matter what I wanted or how I presented it, this burden would always inevitably end up at her feet. She had always handled me and my hesitations with grace, but I wished she didn't have to handle them at all.

"I'm going to be honest with you," I said, "but I don't want you to take it personally and think you did something wrong, okay?"

"Of course. Okay."

I inhaled deeply and bared my soul.

"Being here with you gives me so much joy. I am where I want to be. These feelings I have for you...I've been trapped inside myself with them for a while. You forced me to reckon with them in a way that both scared me and freed me. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't have concerns."

She nodded slowly, and I feared she still took offense despite my warning.

"You think this is a mistake?" she asked.

"No! Being with you is one of the best decisions I ever made, however scary and unexpected it was. But..."

I had shared many things about my life with Sophia, but I glossed over the painful parts in favor of keeping the mood light and not wanting her to feel sorry for me or whatever women did with men's drama. But I couldn't keep her in the dark forever.

"The thing is," I continued, "My parents are divorced. You know that. What you don't know is how it affected me. I didn't find out why they broke until I was well into my teenage days. I lived nearly my entire childhood wondering what happened and confused about why we couldn't be a family anymore, especially when my parents seemed to get along."

"My mom cheated on my dad for literally no reason. She was in love with another man their entire relationship, even though she said she didn't realize she had feelings for him until right before she cheated. But anyway...I was so devastated by that. Like, I just couldn't picture it. My mom? She was so perfect and magical to me. I just couldn't imagine her hurting my dad like that...hurting me like that..."

"And to be so flippant about it? Who decides to destroy their family like that??"

My face started getting hot, and I couldn't lose my cool, so I took a moment to calm down before continuing my sordid tale.

"Ever since then, bits of information about their relationship and past lives keep coming out here and there, and every time I think it can't get worse, it does. I feel like if this can happen to two people who were very happy and in love, what hope is there for me? I have zero reassurance that I can be happy with someone for the rest of my life."

I took another moment to breathe and reflect on everything I blurted out. If I didn't have Sophia and hadn't committed to being brave, I think my words could have hardened my heart. But I continued.

"My parents started dating, moved in together, and got married within a matter of days. One thing my dad said he would do differently was date longer. We've known each other way longer than my parents did, and even though it feels like we rushed into living together, I know that's not really the case. But I can't deny how familiar this feels. On one hand, I feel like we have a solid foundation and are well on our way to a long, fulfilling life together. But on the other hand, I feel like we're following in my parents' footsteps and are perfectly primed for repeating their mistakes."

"Wow," she said. "You never really told me about their situation. I figured it was just one of those things you didn't like talking about. I had no idea it was that bad."

"Now you understand why it took me so long to ask you out. I wanted to call you so badly immediately after getting home from Mt. Komorebi, but...I just couldn't. This fear paralyzed me. I only recently decided to work toward fighting against it."

"I understand, Luca. Trust me," she said with a little extra something in her voice.

I turned back toward her with my eyebrow raised, but she turned away from me.

"I am all too familiar with what you're going through," she said.

"Yeah?"

She nodded.

"Let's just say...I've been where your dad is..."

The anger that attempted to arise in me earlier returned, and I wanted to know names and addresses. What kind of idiot cheats on a sweet angel like Sophia??

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"Yeah, thanks. I've had a lot of time to get over that, but like you, there are certain things I haven't been able to shake. And also like you, I'm working to grow past them. I asked you to live here because I know you're the man for me, and I am the woman for you. I love you, and I want you around. But...there is a tiny voice inside that tells me I need to keep you close so I can watch out for threats. I ignore it because I trust you, but it doesn't go away completely. So...yeah. I know what you're going through."

I completely missed the last part of what she said because my hearted pounded in my chest so loud I couldn't hear a thing when she admitted she loved me. SHE LOVED ME?!! The weight of her admission pressed down on me, filling me with a mix of exhilaration and terror. I wanted to reach out and hold her, to tell her how I felt and say it back, but the fear held me captive. I could share many things with Sophia with ease, but when it came down to exposing the deepest depths of my heart, I freaked out. The words got stuck in a huge knot in my throat. I swallowed a few times, trying to stuff down the fear that tried to choke me, but it prevailed.

"I...I want to say it back. I'm trying to... In my heart, I know that's what I feel, but..."

I longed for the words she deserved to hear to flow effortlessly from my lips, and it pained me to admit I wasn't ready. It hurt so bad I could feel the pressure of tears building up behind my eyes. But I couldn't cry in front of her. Not over this, especially after everything I'd just confessed to her. But she grabbed my hands and caressed them, giving me hope that one day I'd be okay enough to tell her exactly how valued she was.

"Hey...it's okay, Luca. Don't beat yourself up. I said it because I was ready, not because I wanted to hear you say it back. We don't have to be ready at the same time. I agreed with what you said about us rushing. It was a long time coming, but it was sudden no matter how you look at it. You need time to adjust, which was why I asked the question in the first place. Don't rush the process on account of me. When you're ready, you'll say it."

I don't know what I did to make the Watcher deem me worthy of such a woman, but I was eternally grateful.

"I'm glad you understand. You're a real gem and I..."

I tried to ignore her and force myself to say it, but it still wouldn't come out. Instead, I said, "I care about you deeper than I've ever cared about anyone."

She smiled.

"I will take that and cherish it."

Need to catch up? See what you missed or start reading here!

When I moved in Luca, I checked her relationships, whims, etc. to see what I'd be working with. She had the fear of being cheated on! We're still getting to know her, but what do you think?

[kissorkill16]

Guest: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Crowface warns Nicky about what'll happen if he keeps up his bad behavior.

"You look that way, I'll go upstairs.", said Trinity.

Nicky nodded and watched as Trinity ran upstairs. He made his way to the living room, searching for any clues about this mysterious "Crowface".

Apparently, Trinity told him that she saw him walk out of her room and just disappear into the night. While it was weird and unsettling, Nicky wanted nothing to do with it.

After he escaped, he didn't want anything to do with anything supernatural or unusual in Raven Brooks. Mr. Peterson had broken him down from an adventurous, seemingly apathetic, and brave boy, to a scared, hyperventilating, quivering mess. Messed him up real bad, and all he wanted to do was go home.

But the only reason he was even here was because Trinity told him that he was the one who told her that people have to face their fears. While he did say that, facing your fears could mess you up forever.

He put his thoughts aside. Right now, his friend needed him.

He looked under the couch, under the cushions, in the drawers, the wardrobes, and under the rug. No clues to be found.

Nicky started to wonder if this "Crowface" was just a prank. He wasn't in the mood for pranks. He hasn't been in the mood for pranks ever since...

Ever since Aaron...

Nicky sighed and flopped down on the floor at the thought.

He suddenly remembered his friends. Aaron, Mya, and Lucy. They used to hang out and pull pranks on random civilians all the time, and put it all together in the woods. But ever since Lucy died and Aaron and Mya went missing, things haven't been the same.

He remembered being locked in the basement with Aaron, trying to find a way to escape, but being slowly driven to insanity as Mr. Peterson bartered and bruised him, turning him into his fragile little ragdoll. Aaron couldn't do anything but watch as his best friend was crying and writhing in pain, just watching and hugging his shaking body.

He missed them all. He wanted nothing more than to have everyone back. Aaron, Mya, Lucy, Diane, the old and friendly Mr. Peterson, even his grandmother, Bubba.

He wanted the good days back.

A sudden wind from the hallway startled him out of his thoughts, and he peeked his head through the doorway to see what it was. He didn't find anything, just a messy, distorted corridor full of locked and unlocked doors. Like the ones him and Aaron used to pick open, back when things were less complicated.

His mind was screaming at him to not go check it out, to just turn back around and get out of this house, but he was already walking down the corridor.

He peeked his head through every unlocked door, and still found nothing, not even an open window, because that's usually how most wind gets in. He could try picking the locks open, but he didn't have his lockpicks with him at the moment, and he doubted that Aaron's would be anywhere in this disgusting house.

One last unlocked door, and he still found absolutely nothing. He groaned, slamming the door shut, but there was something on the door that really caught his eye.

A long shadow.

Was someone else in this house?

If so, then who? Did someone see him and Trinity walk in and is here to take us back to their parents?

He readied his excuses.

"My friend made me do this! I just wanted to go home."

"I got lost."

"I heard a noise coming from this house, and I got worried."

He turned around to where the shadow was coming from, but before he could even get a single word out, his eyes widened at the sight of what he saw.

A tall, cloaked, beaked figure.

"Hello, little boy.", said the figure.

Nicky jumped back, ready to run. But he didn't even take a step away from the thing before it grabbed his arm.

"Now now, I'm not going to hurt you. Though I might have to if you don't do as I say, but...let's just talk for now. Shall we?"

The thing wrapped its arm around Nicky, his long, sharp fingered hands gripping his shoulder in a vice grip.

"Listen, I know you've been...watching. I don't necessarily blame you. If Mr. Peterson had nothing to hide, then he wouldn't be acting so apprehensive.", said the figure. "But breaking into his house? Oh, you're quite the rebel, aren't you? Yes, quite the rebel."

Nicky looked down at his feet.

"I don't necessarily blame you for that either. After all, you weren't always like that. Your little friend encouraged you to be like that. Such a bad influence."

That made Nicky push the hand that held his shoulder away, "Aaron is not a bad influence! He's my best friend! He was the only one who wasn't a total jerk in this town, the only one who didn't treat me like dirt. Everyone else believed he was cursed, but I didn't -"

The figure gripped Nicky's arm again. This time, in a tighter grip.

"Yes. Yes. Yes. I know the story. You didn't believe the rumors.", it said. "And when he went missing, you've been slowly destroying yourself to find him. And now he's long gone. Away from you."

"Where is he?", asked Nicky.

"Oh don't you worry your little head, dear child. He's alive. But I wouldn't worry about him right now, I'd worry more about you."

The figure pushed Nicky to the floor, and towered over him.

"We all have secrets, do we not? And we're entitled to keep those secrets without you nosy little kids sticking your snotty noses where it doesn't belong.", the figure almost growled. "And it's not just you, it's your little school friends too, but I'll deal with them in a minute. Right now, I'm more focused on the one who started this whole mystery."

The figure leaned in closer, and Nicky felt like he was going to faint.

"Stay away from this house. Don't go anywhere near here, or the woods, or the amusement park ever again. If you do as I say, then we'll never see each other again. But if you don't and keep up this bad behavior, then...well...I'd hate to see another child end up like little Lucy Yi."

Nicky's eyes widened. He was scared, but how DARE he bring Lucy into this?!

But this thing was scary, and he didn't sound like the kind of guy you'd want to mess with.

And Nicky didn't want to die.

"Have I made myself clear, young man?", asked the figure.

"Yes.", Nicky said, trying not to whimper.

The figure patted him on the cheek, "Good boy.", it said. And then it disappeared into the shadows.

Nicky sprinted out of the corridor, running out of the house and ducking through the lines of police tape.

He didn't stop running until he was on his front porch, he climbed up the trellis, through his window, and into his room.

He jumped into bed, burying himself under his blanket, holding his shaking knees.

He forgot about the whole investigation and clues about Crowface, he forgot about facing his fears...

He completely forgot that Trinity was still in the house, and he just left her there to find the clues by herself.

[photogirl894]

Hello. Would it be possible to get famele reader and Hunter? Hunter sees her with disheveled hair for the first time and thinks that it suits her very well.

Aw, this is a sweet one! Yeah I can totally do that! I definitely focused a bit more on Hunter in this one cuz I got a bit carried away, but I think you'll love it still 🥰

"Wild Woman"

Pairing: Hunter x fem reader

Hunter's eyes slowly fluttered open. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt well-rested and content.

It was all because of you...and his head turned to find the object of his affections laying beside him in the bed, still asleep.

In recent months, the two of you had grown close since you had joined up with Clone Force 99. You thought he was handsome, courageous, resilient, caring and an upstanding leader. He thought you were beautiful, brave, resourceful, passionate and fiery. For quite a while, there had been some flirtations and stolen glances, but you both had been hesitant on expressing feelings to each other...until just last night.

The day before, you all had been on a mission that had gotten you into some serious trouble. You all had come across some pirates who had gotten a hold of you and used you against the Batch. They tried to trick the Clones into giving them the cargo you all had gone to collect and even when they did, the pirates tried throwing you over a ledge. Lucky for you, Hunter had been quick to jump over, catch you and grapple you both to safety, but in those moments, you both had been scared of losing each other. Later that night, in a moment of quiet desperation, the truth had come out and you had spent the night together in wonderful, loving bliss.

Hunter propped himself up onto his elbow and looked down at your serene, sleeping face. Your hair was fanned out beneath your head, disheveled and unruly. Normally, you wore your hair up in some way to keep it out of your way when in a fight, but seeing it this way was...intriguing. Something about the wildness of it on you seemed to make him smile. It was adorable and he found he almost loved it more than your normal look. It was a fitting look for you. You had your moments where your true personality shined through with the rest of the squad; when you joked around with them, took crazy risks or were perhaps being reckless in one way or another. You had a fire in you that wasn't going to be tamed by anything or anyone. You did what you wanted, when you wanted and how you wanted. It sometimes was irritating when it went against a plan they had, but it was also something Hunter would never change about you. Your tenacity for disobeying orders, even if they were sometimes his, was what made you a wonderful addition to the Bad Batch.

To him, you were perfect in every way, even with your messy and wild bedhead.

He brought his hand up and brushed a lock of hair from your face before leaning forward and gently kissing your temple. You stirred ever so slightly at his touch, but didn't quite wake up. With a loving smile on his face, he leaned down again and kissed you on the lips with the intention of waking you up this time. He felt you tense up and stir under his lips before you released a quiet sigh, kissing him back as you awoke. His heart skipped a beat as he pulled back and saw your lovely eyes looking up at him and a sleepy smile crossed your face.

"Good morning," you said through a stretch.

"Good morning," he said back.

"I can't believe I'm actually waking up next to you," you said, your lips spreading wide in a happy grin.

He caressed your cheek. "Neither can I. I'm rather fond of the way you look right now."

You felt the heat rise up in your cheeks and you turned your face into the pillow to hide it. "Shut up...I have terrible hair and I'm a mess. I look hideous," you whined.

He put a hand on your shoulder and refuted, "You could never look hideous to me and I love the way your hair looks. It suits you...and I'm glad you would trust me enough to see this side of you.".

Hearing him say such sweet things about how you looked made you feel a bit better and less shy about it with him. "Well...of course, I trust you," you told him, turning back to look at him.

"It's a wild look and it fits you perfectly," he told you.

"Are you saying I'm a wild woman?" you asked, smirking.

Hunter just smirked back and replied, "I am...and you already know that's true."

You grinned even wider. "You know, you're right," you said back with a chuckle.

"I would never change that about you," he said to you as he leaned down and kissed you sweetly on the lips.

Not only were you a wild woman...you were his wild woman.

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