#they are so father and daughter i can’t do this

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between: Chapter 26

OTHER CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10

Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15

Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19 I Chapter 20

Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: As Gabby arrives in Austin, excitement and nerves swirl as she prepares to introduce Glen to her father, Mike, and her uncle, Joe. Tensions run high at first with Mike’s protective instincts kicking in, but Glen remains steady under pressure. Over the course of the evening, Mike observes Glen not just through conversation, but through the way he interacts with his family and, most importantly with Gabby. Later, Mike takes Glen aside for the classic "dad talk," testing his intentions and ultimately finding himself surprisingly impressed.

Warnings: Mild Family Tension (Protective Father), Mild Intimidation ("Dad Talk"), Mentions of Grief & Deceased Parent, Mild Alcohol Use (Social Drinking)

Word Count: 4.4k

Gabby stepped off the jet bridge, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. The warm Texas air hit her as soon as she entered the terminal, a stark contrast to the cooler breeze she’d left behind in Los Angeles that morning. Even though she’d been looking forward to this trip for weeks, a mix of excitement and nerves settled deep in her chest.

She spotted them instantly, first her dad, Mike, standing near the baggage claim with his arms crossed his stance effortlessly exuding protective father energy. Next to him Uncle Joe leaned casually against a pillar scrolling through his phone, completely unbothered.

As soon as Mike saw her, his expression softened. “There’s my girl,” he said, pulling her into a hug that nearly lifted her off her feet.

Gabby laughed, hugging him back. “Missed you too, Dad.”

Joe grinned as he pocketed his phone. “Hey, kiddo.” He leaned in, kissing her temple. “How was the flight?”

“Long,” she admitted. “But worth it.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And how much of that has to do with seeing us and how much has to do with seeing this guy?”

Gabby sighed. “Here we go.”

Joe chuckled. “Oh, he’s been dying to ask about Glen since we got in the car.”

Mike ignored the comment, picking up her carry on like it weighed nothing. “So, what’s this guy like? Should I be worried?”

Gabby rolled her eyes. “No, you shouldn’t be worried.”

He gave her a look. “That’s exactly what a daughter would say if she didn’t want her dad to be worried.”

Joe shook his head. “Mike, the man flies fighter jets in movies and wears cowboy hats. He’s probably fine.”

Mike grunted. “We’ll see.”

As they started walking toward the exit, Gabby sighed, deciding it was best to get ahead of this now.

“Listen,” she said, looking up at her dad. “Just… be nice, okay? No interrogation, no intimidation. I actually like him, and I don’t need you scaring him off.”

Mike smirked but didn’t make any promises. “I’ve got to make sure this guy is good enough for my little girl. If he can’t handle a little conversation with me than maybe he ain’t the one sweetheart.”

Gabby groaned. “Oh my God, please don’t say things like that when you meet him.”

Joe laughed as he slung an arm around Gabby’s shoulders. “I cannot wait for this.”

The drive out to Glen’s place was filled with long stretches of open land, rolling fields, and the occasional herd of cattle lazily grazing beneath the sun. It was a stark contrast to Los Angeles, and yet, Gabby had grown to love it from just the one other time she’d been here.

She glanced down at her phone, fingers hovering over the screen before finally sending a quick warning text.

Gabby: We’re five minutes out. Please don’t be weird.

The three dots appeared almost immediately.

Glen: Define weird?

She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head.

Gabby: Just be normal. My dad is already skeptical.

Glen: Noted. Normal cowboy mode activated.

She rolled her eyes, slipping her phone into her lap just as the truck turned down the gravel road leading to Glen’s ranch.

As soon as the house came into view, Gabby spotted him. Glen stood on the front step, hands resting in his pockets, watching as they pulled up. Casual but put together in worn jeans, a fitted T-shirt, and boots that had clearly seen a day’s work. His hair was a little messier than usual, the late afternoon light making the golden strands even more noticeable. He looked ridiculously good, and her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of him.

Before Mike had even fully parked, Gabby threw open her door and practically launched herself out of the truck.

“Could’ve waited for me to at least turn it off,” she heard her dad mutter behind her, but she didn’t slow down.

Glen’s grin was instant the second he saw her, his arms open just in time for her to jump into him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Hey,” she breathed, hands threading through his hair as he caught her effortlessly.

“Hey,” he murmured back, holding her just a little tighter than necessary.

He spun her once before setting her down, but even when her feet touched the ground, he didn’t let go right away. His hands rested on her waist, hers on his chest, their eyes locked.

Gabby barely registered the sound of the truck doors closing behind her. It had been a month since she’d seen him in person which was too long. And judging by the way Glen’s fingers tightened on her hips for just a second, she knew he felt the same.

He tilted his head, dipping slightly not quite kissing her, but hovering close enough that her breath caught. It was a little more than PG, but still okay.

A pointed throat clearing from behind them.

Glen pulled back like he’d just been caught committing a felony. Gabby whipped around, finding her dad standing there, arms crossed, face unreadable. Her uncle, on the other hand, was barely containing his amusement.

Glen recovered quickly, his easy charm slipping back into place as he stepped forward, offering his hand.

“It’s really great to finally meet you, sir.” His tone was polite, confident, but not forced.

Mike took the handshake, firm, unyielding. “We’ll see about that.”

Gabby groaned internally.

Joe, ever the peacemaker, grinned as he shook Glen’s hand next. “Ignore him. He’s just mad Gabby didn’t tell him she was dating a movie star sooner.”

“I wasn’t hiding him,” Gabby defended. “I was just—”

“Delaying the interrogation?” Glen finished for her, smirking slightly.

Mike narrowed his eyes. “Smart man.”

Joe laughed. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Glen didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Gabby’s carry on with one hand and rested his other hand lightly on the small of her back, guiding her up the porch steps.

“Come on in,” he said easily, glancing at Mike and Joe. “Make yourselves at home.”

Inside, the warm scent of home-cooked food filled the air, mixing with the faint crackle of music playing in the background. Gabby instantly recognized the lively hum of conversation. Glen’s family was already here.

As soon as they stepped inside, Cyndy appeared from the kitchen, her face lighting up.

“There she is!” she said warmly, pulling Gabby into a familiar hug.

Gabby sank into it, smiling. “Hi, Cyndy.”

“Glad you made it in okay, sweetheart” Cyndy said before pulling back, giving glen a knowing once-over. “This one’s been counting down the minutes.”

Gabby glanced at Glen, amused as he shook his head. “You didn’t have to tell her that, mom.”

“Sweetheart, you’re not subtle,” Cyndy teased before turning toward Mike and Joe.

“You must be Gabby’s dad,” she said, offering Mike a warm handshake. “Welcome.”

Mike took her hand, nodding. “Thanks for having us.”

“Of course! We’ve heard a lot about you,” Cyndy said with a smile before glancing at Joe. “And you must be the uncle we’ve heard about!”

“Hopefully all good things,” Joe said, grinning as he shook her hand.

Leslie and Lauren entered next, both already smirking.

“Well, well,” Leslie said, arms crossed. “Look who’s back.”

Lauren grinned, nudging Gabby. “Still putting up with our brother I see.”

Leslie turned toward Mike and Joe. “Welcome, y’all. Hope Texas is treating you well.”

Before they could respondGlen’s dad, Glen Sr. stepped forward, offering Mike a firm handshake.

“Good to have y’all here,” he said, his deep Texas drawl evident. “Hope the trip wasn’t too bad.”

Mike met his handshake evenly. “Not bad at all.”

Joe, on the other hand, grinned and clapped Glen Sr. on the back. “I gotta say, I feel like I already like you.”

“Oh?” Glen Sr. raised an eyebrow.

Joe nodded. “Because the second I walked in, your wife hugged my niece like she was already family, and your daughters are roasting your son. Reminds me of what happens when some of our family gets together.”

Leslie smirked. “It’s our love language.”

Glen sighed. “Again, we’re done with that.”

Lauren grinned. “Sure, birthday boy.”

Gabby laughed, feeling a little overwhelmed but in the best way. The Powells were so effortlessly welcoming, loud, and full of energy. Still, she snuck a glance at her dad, wondering how he was taking all of this in.

Mike, to his credit, didn’t seem rattled. But there was a carefulness to his expression, like he was still taking stock of everything.

Glen, sensing the moment, gave a nod toward the hall. “Let me show y’all around.”

He led them through the house, giving them the full rundown.

“This is nice,” Joe said, whistling. “I see why you left LA.”

Glen nodded, hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Always knew I’d come back here.”

The late afternoon had settled into one of those perfect Texas evenings warm but breezy, the kind that made you want to sit outside for hours. As the group stepped onto the deck, the scent of smoked barbecue lingered in the air, mixing with the laughter and easy conversation of Glen’s family and friends.

A few people were already gathered some of Glen’s childhood friends, a couple of his college friends, and even a few Gabby recognized from L.A. all blending seamlessly with his family.

Glen Sr. had already settled into one of the Adirondack chairs, bourbon in hand, looking completely at ease. When he saw Mike and Joe, he gestured toward the open seats nearby.

“Y’all drink bourbon?”

Joe grinned. “Is that even a real question?”

Glen Sr. chuckled and leaned forward, grabbing a bottle from the small table beside him. The label was slightly worn, the kind of bottle that had been aged and saved for special occasions. He poured three glasses neat and handed them over.

Mike took his glass, hesitating for half a second before nodding in approval. “Alright. Let’s see what Texas has to offer.”

Glen Sr. smirked. “Careful now. This one’s got a bite.”

They clinked glasses, and Gabby watched in mild disbelief as her dad took a sip, let it sit for a second, then gave an approving nod.

“Not bad,” Mike admitted.

Joe took a sip, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Damn, that’s smooth.”

Glen Sr. grinned, clearly pleased. “Good. Now that we got that settled tell me, Mike, are you one of those fair-weather football fans, or do you actually know the game?”

Gabby blinked.

Her dad tilted his head. “Oh, I know the game. Played a bit of it in college back in the day.”

Glen Sr. raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Longhorns fan?”

Mike scoffed. “Bulldogs, actually.”

A collective groan came from the group.

Glen, from across the deck, shook his head. “Well, this just got interesting.”

Glen Sr. leaned back, swirling his drink. “I should’ve known. You’ve got that stubborn energy.”

Joe smirked. “Oh, you have no idea.”

The conversation naturally rolled from football to old rivalries, and even a few dad jokes that made Gabby physically cringe.

She sipped her drink, watching her father who had walked in here prepared to be skeptical now looking completely at ease, talking to Glen’s dad like they’d known each other for years.

Joe elbowed her lightly, chuckling. “Well, that was unexpected.”

Gabby shook her head, still processing the sight in front of her. “Yeah, I thought I’d have to drag him here.”

Joe grinned. “Looks like you might have to drag him away from here instead.”

The evening soon settled into a comfortable lull. The fire pit crackled low, drinks were being refilled, and conversations had broken off into smaller groups.

Gabby was deep in conversation with Leslie and Lauren when Mike noticed Glen standing alone near the edge of the deck, watching the night sky. Mike took a sip of his bourbon, then set his glass down with quiet finality. 

He crossed the deck, coming to stand beside Glen. “You serious about her?”

The question landed like a weight in the quiet space between them.

Glen turned fully to face Mike, no hesitation. “Yes, sir. I am.”

Mike studied him, his expression unreadable. “Serious is a strong word.”

Glen nodded, choosing his words carefully. “I know it’s only been a few months, and I get why that might seem fast. But I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

Mike exhaled, taking a slow sip of his bourbon. “You know, I’ve been around long enough to recognize when a guy’s just saying what he thinks a dad wants to hear.”

Glen met his gaze evenly. “I’d expect nothing less. But it’s not just words, sir. I mean it.”

Mike gave him a long, measuring look before leaning against the deck railing. “Alright then. Since it seems like you’re going to be around…at least for a while, might as well get to know you.”

Glen perked up slightly, a little surprised but open.

“Let’s start simple what do you do when you’re not making movies?” Mike asked. “What’s your thing?”

A small, easy grin tugged at the corner of Glen’s mouth. “Planes.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Planes?”

“Yeah.” Glen leaned against the railing too, suddenly more relaxed, more in his element. “I’ve been obsessed with them since I was a kid. I got my pilot’s license a few years ago. Any chance I get I’m up in the air.”

Mike hummed, genuinely intrigued now. “Commercial or just for fun?”

“Just for fun.” Glen shrugged. “I love the freedom of it. No cameras, no scripts just the sky and me. It’s kind of my escape when I need to get away.”

Mike nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Alright. That’s actually pretty cool.”

Glen smirked. “Thanks. High praise coming from you.”

Mike side-eyed him, fighting a smirk of his own. “Don’t push it, kid.”

Mike swirled the bourbon in his glass. “So, movies. That the plan all along?”

Glen chuckled. “Yeah. It’s all I ever wanted to do since I was a little kid. Liked entertaining people.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Glen exhaled. “I went to school at UT here in Austin. But I dropped out when acting took off. At the time, it felt like the right move.”

Mike’s expression didn’t shift much, but Glen felt the weight of his silence.

“So you never finished?” Mike asked after a beat.

Glen hesitated before shaking his head. “Not yet. But I’m working on it.”

Mike’s eyes flicked to him. “Yeah?”

Glen nodded. “I’ve been taking online classes to finish my degree. It’s a slow process, but it’s important to me. I want to finish what I started.”

Mike’s lips pressed together, considering. “That’s good to hear.”

And Glen could tell he meant it.

Mike sighed, shifting the glass in his hands. “Gabby’s been through a lot. She’s worked hard for the life she has. The last thing I want is for her to be an afterthought in yours.”

Glen’s jaw tightened slightly, his easy charm fading into something steadier, something real. “She’s not,” he said firmly. “I would never let her be.”

Mike took a slow breath. “You’ve got a big life, Glen. A flashy one. It’s a lot of attention, a lot of pressure. You’re used to it, but Gabby? She never wanted to be in the spotlight.”

“I know,” Glen admitted. “And I’m not gonna pretend to understand exactly what that feels like for her. But I do know that whatever she needs, whatever makes this easier I’ll do it. I don’t care if that means keeping things private, changing my schedule, or slowing down if I have to. She comes first.”

Mike studied him for a long moment. Finally, he gave a small, slow nod. “Good,” he said. “Because she deserves that.”

Glen nodded back. “I know she does.”

Mike tilted his head slightly. “And you? You deserve her?”

Glen swallowed, but his voice was steady. “I hope so. I’ll admit I have my flaws, but I really do my best to be good for her.”

Mike sat with that answer. It was the best one Glen could have given.

The evening had cooled, but the Texas heat still lingered in the air, softened by the breeze rolling across the open land. The sky was deep blue now, speckled with the first signs of stars, and the backyard was alive with movement laughter, quick footsteps, playful shouts carried through the night.

Mike stood on the edge of the deck, bourbon in hand, watching.

Below, a game of family football had broken out. It had started as a simple game of catch between Glen and his nephew, but then his sisters jumped in, then his mom got involved, and before long, Gabby with that fire in her eyes Mike knew all too well had grabbed the ball and challenged Glen to stop her.

That had been it. Now it was chaos in the best way. Glen’s dad stood a few feet away, watching the game with a lazy kind of amusement, shaking his head every so often at whatever stunt his son was pulling.

Mike, however, wasn’t looking at the game anymore. He was looking at Glen. And the way he was with his family. The way he let his nephew tackle him to the ground, even though he could’ve dodged easily. The way he high-fived his niece after she faked him out and scored. The way he laughed with his sisters, completely unfiltered, comfortable.

And then there was Gabby. Mike’s grip on his glass tightened slightly as he observed the little things. The way Glen’s eyes landed on her, even when she wasn’t paying attention. The way he looked at her, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Gabby was sprinting down the yard, ball in hand, her expression all determination and mischief. Glen caught up in a few easy strides, grabbed her around the waist, and lifted her off the ground, spinning her around to stop her.

Gabby’s laughter rang out, her head thrown back against his shoulder, completely unguarded. Mike felt something tighten in his chest. He hadn’t seen her laugh like that in a long time.

Mike hadn’t realized how quiet he’d gone until Joe appeared at his side, hands in his pockets, following his line of sight.

For a few beats, Joe just watched. Then, smirking, he let out a soft chuckle. “So,” he said casually, “you like him.”

Mike scoffed, not looking away. “Didn’t say that.”

Joe hummed, taking a sip of his drink. “Right. You’re just standing here watching them with a smile on your face.”

Mike exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “He’s a good guy.”

Joe grinned. “Knew it.”

Mike rolled his shoulders, setting his glass down on the railing, jaw tightening slightly. “It’s just…” He sighed. “She’s my little girl, Joe.”

Joe nodded. “Yeah.”

Mike kept his eyes on Gabby on the way she and Glen moved together without even realizing it. The way Glen reached for her hand instinctively when she stumbled. The way Gabby swatted at him playfully, but never pulled away.

“She’s all grown up,” Mike said quietly.

Joe gave him a look. “You knew it was coming.”

Mike let out a slow breath. “Doesn’t make it easier.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The fire crackled in the background, the sounds of Gabby laughing as Glen spun her again filtering up from the yard.

Then Joe, a little softer this time, asked, “What do you think Michelle would’ve thought of him?”

Mike huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh, she’d have loved him.”

Joe chuckled. “Yeah?”

Mike turned, finally looking at his brother. “I mean, look at him. Charismatic, good with people, big personality, damn good smile. She would’ve liked him even more than Gabby does.”

Joe laughed shaking his head. “You might be right about that.”

Mike exhaled, a mix of amusement and something heavier sitting in his chest.

“She always said Gabby needed someone who could keep up with her,” Mike murmured. “Someone who wouldn’t try to dim that fire she’s got.”

Joe watched him carefully. “And?”

Mike finally looked back at the yard at Glen and Gabby, still wrapped up in their game, still looking at each other like nothing else existed.

“And I think she found him.”

Joe smiled, clinking his glass against Mike’s. “Guess that means you better start being nice to him.”

Mike scoffed. “Not a chance.”

Joe laughed, shaking his head. “Come on, you can’t be too hard on the kid.”

Mike just smirked, watching as Gabby tackled Glen to the ground.

Maybe he was being a little hard on Glen. But he was her dad. And it was his job to keep this kid on his toes.

Out on the lawn, the game had somehow turned even more competitive. Glen had the ball now, holding it just out of reach as Gabby circled him, eyes narrowed in determination.

“Oh, come on,” she taunted, hands on her hips. “What, you scared I’ll take you down?”

Glen smirked, spinning the ball between his hands. “Not scared. Just trying to figure out if it’s even fair to make you lose twice in one night.”

Leslie snorted from across the yard. “Glen, you’re talking a lot of shit for someone about to get absolutely wrecked.”

Gabby grinned. “Exactly.”

Glen just arched a brow, playing it cool. “Alright then. Come and get it.”

And that was all she needed. Gabby launched herself at him, fast and determined, catching him by surprise. Glen had half a second to react before she tackled him full force, sending them both tumbling to the grass. The ball slipped from his grip as they hit the ground, Gabby’s triumphant laugh ringing out into the night.

Pinned beneath her, Glen let out a dramatic groan. “Oh, so that’s how we’re playing, huh?”

Gabby grinned, straddling his waist, her hands planted on his chest. “You said to come and get it.”

Glen tilted his head, lips quirking up. “Should’ve been more specific.”

She laughed, and it was that sound the one that was easy and full and real that made Mike’s chest tighten again.

From the deck, Mike just shook his head, sipping his drink, watching it all unfold.

Joe, still standing beside him, let out a low whistle. “Man, she got him good.”

Mike smirked, unable to deny it. “Yeah. She did.”

And what was more surprising?

Glen let her win. He could’ve held onto the ball longer, could’ve stopped her from taking him down—but he hadn’t.

Because winning wasn’t the point for him. Gabby was.

Out on the grass, Gabby finally pushed herself up, still grinning like she’d won the Super Bowl.

“Alright, get up, old man,” she teased, reaching down.

Glen huffed, grabbing her hand. “I am in peak athletic form, thank you very much.”

She snorted. “Sure you are.”

Glen let her help pull him up, but instead of letting go right away, his hands brushed along her arms, then instinctively down to her waist, steadying her.

It was subtle. Effortless. Like holding onto her was something he didn’t even have to think about.

Gabby tilted her head up at him, still catching her breath, her smile softer now. For a second, it was like the whole game had disappeared. Just the two of them, standing there in the glow of the string lights, eyes locked, bodies close.

Then, Glen dusted grass off her arms, his touch lingering for just a beat too long.

“Can’t have you getting all dirty,” he murmured.

Gabby rolled her eyes, but she didn’t pull away.

From the deck, Mike watched it all. The way Glen looked at her. The way Gabby leaned into him without even thinking about it. The way they just fit.

Joe, who had also caught the moment, nudged Mike’s arm. “Well,” he said, “if you weren’t already coming around to him, that right there should seal the deal.”

Mike didn’t say anything at first. He just took another slow sip of his drink, exhaling through his nose.

Then, quietly, he admitted, “Yeah.”

Joe grinned. “Knew it.”

Mike shook his head, watching as Glen tugged Gabby back toward the game, their hands brushing as they walked.

“She’s all grown up, Joe.”

Joe nodded, his voice softer this time. “Yeah. She is.”

And as much as it ached in a way Mike wasn’t sure he was ready for, he also knew she was happy. And at the end of the day, wasn’t that what mattered most?

The football game had finally settled into easy conversation, the competitive energy fading into the comfortable hum of a warm Texas night.

Mike glanced at his watch, exhaling. “Alright, we should probably head out.”

Joe stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, wouldn’t want the old man to get too cranky.”

Mike shot him a look but didn’t argue. As they stood from their seats, Glen Sr. stepped forward, already reaching for the bourbon bottle on the table.

“Well, since you both held your own tonight,” he said, pouring a slow sip into his glass, “I’d say y’all are welcome back for another round tomorrow.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “That an invitation?”

Glen Sr. smirked. “More of a challenge.”

Joe grinned. “Now that’s something we can’t turn down.”

Mike huffed, but there was no real protest behind it. “Fine. But don’t water it down just ‘cause I’m the new guy.”

Glen Sr. chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they stepped toward the truck, Mike paused, turning to Glen.

For a second, it felt like a test all over again. Then Mike looked him in the eye, his voice calm, steady. “Take care of her.”

Glen didn’t hesitate. “I will.”

And Mike must’ve believed him, because he gave a slow nod before turning to get in the truck. Glen stood there, watching the taillights disappear down the gravel road, only letting out a breath once they were gone.

Glen exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think that went okay.”

Gabby let out a laugh, stepping up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Yeah,” she murmured against his chest. “I think it did.”

Glen draped his arms over her shoulders, pressing his chin lightly to the top of her head, holding her close.

“So,” he said, voice teasing now, “does this mean your dad actually likes me? Or is he just tolerating me.”

Gabby pulled back just enough to grin up at him. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Glen smirked. “Guess I’ll just have to keep winning him over, then.”

Gabby shook her head, laughing softly.

[anotherbananasong]

ugh earth being able to hit the nail on the head that causes alpha to pull away from his family ;;

did earth know how much it'd hurt alpha, and do it on purpose to hurt him the way he's hurt earth(and air), or did he not know and just got insanely good aim to hit alpha where it hurts?? Does he even know HIS words are what caused it?? Surely as a Fellow Dad, he'd have some form of regret from saying it. Not for Alpha. But for Charon, who almost loses his dad bc of it.

I think Earth was conscious of how hurtful his words were; but it’s Alpha, and he doesn’t care what Alpha thinks or feels. That bridge has long since burned.

I ended up spending more time than I should, but I figured with the recent confusion, I’d break down the timeline of events.

Under a readmore because it’s loooooong as shit..

Without revealing too much, @bloodfin had a lovely little blurb that I definitely agree with; Charon wasn’t summoned. Not intentionally, at least. And when Alpha stepped up to the plate, he was already in love with the kit.

He was excited to be a father, especially if it meant he had Dew there with him. There was about a four-day period where the two (now three) of them hid out in their room, just enjoying this new life they were going to have. Charon didn’t leave Alpha’s arms the whole time.

But then, it was time to meet Astra. And Earth is less than thrilled (he doesn’t want his daughter near that asshole).

Earth says he feels sorry for the kit; Alpha’s ruined his life just by being his father. Air, of course, is the only that knows just how low Alpha got, the nights he had to spend with him just making sure Alpha would make it through to the morning instead of giving in to his misery. Though Air is quick to chastise Earth, the damage is done. A perfect example of how you shouldn’t say something hurtful cause you have no idea what someone is going through, or has been through. And, in Alpha’s mind, Earth is right: how could Alpha have possibly thought he’d be a good father?

So he distances. He can’t ruin this kit’s life with his horrid existence. Charon needs a good father, not someone as worthless and cruel as he is. Charon doesn’t understand why the distancing is happening, and neither does Dew. What changed, that made Alpha not love them anymore? What did he do wrong?

After almost a week, Alpha decides he can’t do this. Dew will find someone better to raise their kit. He’s going to ask to be returned to the Pits; Dew and Charon deserve someone better.

Like I’ve said, when Alpha is about to walk, it’s Charon’s cry that stops him.

While he’s lying with Dew and Charon in his arms, that’s when he decides he can’t hide behind “they deserve better” anymore and actually be what he thinks they deserve. He had to come a looooong long way, but that moment made him realize he had more to offer. His kit and his mate love him, and he loves them. Earth can say and think how he feels; Alpha knows he loves these two fire ghouls, and from here on out he will be exactly what he wants to be to make sure they know how much he loves them.

Alpha makes good on his promise that Charon will never cry because of him again. He’s going to protect him as fiercely as he protects Dew.

Sorry, this was long and sloppy… but I figured I’d throw the timeline out there (I forget people don’t know the things @ashthewaterghoul and I talk about and how much lore I haven’t shared…. eh heh). Yes, Alpha’s insecurities and fear pushed him away from Charon for a moment, but he doesn’t stay there. He doesn’t do that to Charon (or Dew) again. I just tend to bounce around when I draw for the “domestic Charon” tag because I bounce all over the place to begin with. Sorry to those that thought it meant that Alpha bounces around between caring for/neglecting Charon… Alpha only pushed him away once; after he had his epiphany, he never shuts Charon out again. He decides to be the father he wants to be to Charon.

[cherryblossomcowgirl]

The Bodyguard

Bodyguard!Jake Seresin x reader; Glen Powell x reader

WC: 2.3k

TW: age gap; angst; weapons; possessiveness; mentions of death

.

.

I cross my arms and huff, “This is so not fair, Dad.” He sighs, “Sweetheart, you knew this was coming. You had a security detail during my last term.” “I was in school then! I’m an adult now, Dad. I don’t need an armed babysitter.” “This is not a negotiation.” His tone is stern, the same one he uses during press conferences, and I immediately back down. The door to the oval office opens and one of his staffers pops their head in, “Mr. President, he’s here. Are you ready for him?” Dad nods and in walks the most gorgeous man I have ever laid my eyes on. Late 30s, tall, chiseled, tan, blonde hair, stubble, and a killer smile. My Father rises from behind the desk to shake his hand, “Hello, Mr. Seresin.” The man smiles, “Good morning, Mr. President.” Dad gestures to me, “This is my daughter, Y/n.” The blonde man turns to me, “Hello, Y/n.” I nod in his direction and my Father clears his throat, “As you can tell, she is not thrilled about this situation. I will warn you, this one gave her last detail quite the hard time. I would like to thank you and apologize to you at the same time.” Dad chuckles and the man nods, “Do not worry sir, she will be safe with me.” Dad sits back down and smiles, “I heard you are the best of the best. Let me know if you need anything.” The man nods and I walk over to kiss my Father on the head, “See you soon, Dad.” He grabs my hand for a second, “Don’t forget to call. I love you.” “You too.” I walk out of the office with my new shadow.

.

.

The sound of the engine humming fills the awkward silence as we drive back to NYC. My mind wanders as I stare at his hands on the wheel, they look so strong and rough. I gaze up his arms, vascular and practically bulging out of his shirt. He clears his throat, “So Ms. Y/l/n, would you like to tell me your daily schedule?” “Sure, Mr. Seresin. I wake up at 6:00 for my workout, then I walk home and shower. Right now I am in the writing stage, so I will set up my laptop at home or a coffee shop and write. Dinner with friends when I feel like it, but usually I just cook at home. Then I’ll watch something on tv and go to bed around 10. Also, you can call me Y/n.” He nods and continues to stare straight ahead at the road. After a few minutes I break the silence, “What’s your first name?” His green eyes pierce mine, “Jake. But Ms. Y/l/n, let me be clear about something. I am your bodyguard. You are my client. We are not friends.” I nod, turning to look out the window. This is going to be a long four years.

.

.

*1 month later*

“You can’t be serious!” Jake calmly sets down his coffee, “You can book private sessions, but no more group Pilates.” “Why not?” He doesn’t even look up from the newspaper, “Because I don’t know who will be in the class, therefore I do not have time to properly vet them.” I throw my bag over my shoulder and head to the door. He follows, “Where do you think you are going?” “Pilates. You work for me, remember?” “It’s not a good idea.” I roll my eyes, “What’s not a good idea?” His green eyes darken as he leans in, “Disobeying my orders.” A weird warmth starts spreading in my stomach. “Watch me.” I start walking out of my brownstone and he follows, begrudgingly. As soon as I get to class I see my friend, Glen. He walks right up and hugs me, “Hey, darling! I’ve missed you!” I smile, “You’re finally back! Pilates hasn’t been the same without you.” We put our things away, chatting about the movie he just came back from filming in Australia. As we walk into the room, Glen places his hand on my lower back and for a split second I swear Jake’s jaw twitches. His green eyes sear into Glen throughout the whole class. Afterwards, we say our goodbyes and I follow Jake towards my home. After a minute of walking in silence, Jake furrows his brow, “Who was that?” I chuckle, knowing immediately who he is talking about. “That’s Glen. He’s a… friend.” Jake’s next words come out low, “Yeah he seemed a little too friendly.” “Oh be quiet. He doesn’t see me like that. I mean look at him and then look at me.” The muscle in his jaw twitches again.

.

.

*The following week*

Writing had completely taken over my days. The last time I left the house was when I saw Glen at Pilates. I’m writing by my window and Jake is in the living room when my phone rings. “Hey! …. Oh that would be great! …. Okay, see you then.” I set down my phone and get back to writing. Jake walks over, “Who will you be seeing?” Without looking up I answer, “Glen. He would like to go to dinner.” His whole body tenses, “When and where?” “Tonight and I don’t know. He’s going to pick me up.” “No.” I turn to meet his green eyes that are burning with something I can’t identify, “What did you say?” He crosses his muscular arms, “I said no. He’s not picking you up and you aren’t going to a restaurant that I can’t check ahead of time.” I stand up, our faces inches away from each other, “I am going whether you like it or not. You can drive and sit a table away, or you can take the night off.” His cologne is distracting me. His voice lowers, “What did I tell you about disobeying me?” I start walking away, swaying my hips more than usual, “I’m going to shower. Be ready in an hour.”

.

After checking myself a hundred times in the mirror, I decide I am ready. The only thing I can’t decide is if I am getting dolled up for Glen or Jake. Something about those damn green eyes. I decided on a mini skirt, baggy sweater, tights, and my favorite pair of boots. Jake is by the bottom of the stairs and I feel the heat of his eyes on me. There’s a knock at the door and I run over. Glen is smiling, “You look beautiful.” He wraps me in his arms, “Thank you! Mr. Seresin is going to drive. He’s more paranoid than my last detail.” Jake’s body looks stiff as a board as Glen smiles over at him, “No worries. You ready to go?” With his hand on my lower back he guides me to the black SUV, opening the door and all. We have been good friends for a while, and I would be lying if I said I never thought about him romantically. He is so kind, smart, funny, and attractive. I was shocked when he asked me to dinner, because he usually is seen out with actresses and models. We pull up to my favorite restaurant and Glen smiles. I follow him in, trying to forget about the shadow following us. It’s hard to ignore him when he is staring daggers at Glen the entire night.

.

Dinner is wonderful and afterwards Glen walks me to my front door. Jake is standing at the bottom of the steps, still staring daggers. “Thank you for dinner. I had a great time.” Glen smiles, “You’re welcome darling. Maybe one of these days we could grab coffee after Pilates?” “I’d love that.” Glen’s eyes glance down to my lips, but he leans in for a hug. He kisses my cheek and I wave as he walks to his car. Jake follows me inside and I throw my hands in the air, “You have GOT to be KIDDING me! He’s not going to kiss me while you’re staring at him like you want to kill him!” Jake shrugs, “A real man wouldn’t have cared.” “You’re impossible!” He walks closer to me and his voice is gravely, “My job is to keep you safe. I don’t care if that upsets you or the little pretty boys you want to date.” I lean in, “Seemed like you were the one that was upset, Mr. Seresin.” I turn around, starting to walk away. His calloused hand grabs my wrist and spins me back around. His voice is barely above a whisper, “You are playing a dangerous game here, Ms. Y/l/n.” My heart feels like it is beating out of my chest. Heat rises to my cheeks and I pray he doesn’t notice. I lean in, smirking, “Good thing that’s my favorite kind.” Twisting my wrist out of his hand, I head up to bed.

.

.

*3 months later*

“Wanna grab a coffee? I’ll walk you home.” I smile while I pack my Pilates bag, “Yeah, that’d be great.” Glen grabs my bag and throws it over his shoulder as I follow him to the cafe. “So, how was England?” He sighs, “Cold, rainy, gray… no you. But I think the movie will be great.” I nudge his arm, “I’m sure it will be. They always are.” He blushes and grabs our coffees. We start the walk back to my house and I almost forget Jake is there. Almost. A couple of stray paparazzi see Glen and run over. Before we have time to react, Jake pulls us into an alley. His entire body is covering mine and his hand is hovering over his gun. Heat is radiating from his body. His sculpted body is pressing into mine with every breath. After I get my breathing under control, I place my hand on his chest, “It was just the paparazzi. I’m sure they’re gone by now.” I feel his heartbeat, strong and steady. He back away, allowing us to continue walking home. Glen smiles at me, “Seems like he’s really good at his job.” I sigh, “Yeah, it makes up for how aggravating he is.” We chuckle and stop at my front door. Glen kisses my cheek, “Have a good writing day, darling.” I smile, “Thank you. Let me know if you need me to edit that script.” His thumb brushes my cheek, “Will do.” I wave as he walks back to his house up the street. As I walk inside I grab my computer to get set up, and Jake is chuckling to himself. “What’s so funny, Mr. Seresin?” Jake smirks, “Maybe he just isn’t good at aiming?” “Can you do me a favor and just stay out of my love life?” His smirk spreads, “There doesn’t seem to be one to stay out of.” I stand up, poking his chest hard, “Thanks. to. you. I’m not getting any younger over here!” He scoffs, “Calm down. What are you, 24?” “25 next month. How old are you? 40?” He puts his hand on his chest, “Ouch. I’m 38.” I shrug, “Close enough. Can we make a deal?” He raises his eyebrow, “I’m listening…” “You let me have Glen over, unaccompanied. You can have the whole night off.” His jaw twitches, “Not a chance.” I inch closer to him, “I have needs.” His green eyes darken, “Not my problem.” I storm up to my room, slamming the door. Jake is going to be the death of me.

.

.

*2 weeks later*

It’s Saturday, so I decide to sleep in. I finally head downstairs for coffee, but I decide to stay in my pajamas. I am frustrated and bored and decide it will at least be funny to mess with Jake. Oh and my pajamas? It’s a silky pink slip with lace around the edges. Jake is at the breakfast table, going through some files. “G’morning Mr. Seresin.” Without looking up he responds, “Morning Ms. Y/l/n.” I start to make my latte, making lots of noise on purpose. I feel his gaze on me so I reach up for my mug, exposing more of my thighs. He coughs, taking a sip of his coffee. Once I have my latte, I sit across from him. My phone rings, “Hey Dad! … Oh, really? … No, I understand. … Some other time, okay? … Yeah, Glen is great. He’s doing a press tour right now. … I miss you too. …. Love you, bye.” I blink the tears away from my eyes and sip my coffee. Jake furrows his brow, “What’s wrong?” “It’s nothing. It’s stupid, really. Dad can’t spend my birthday with me this year, he has some important meeting that came up.” His jaw twitches, “Is Glen going to spend your birthday with you?” I shake my head, “He’ll still be on his press tour.” Still reading, Jake asks, “What do you usually do with your Father?” I look down at my latte, tears threatening to spill over, “It’s always the one day I get him to myself. No cellphone. No assistants. We’ll play chess, catch up on life, and he always cooks us dinner. Then we watch our favorite movie, The Sound of Music.” I swear a real smile flashes across Jake’s face, gone as soon as it appears. He clears his throat, “That sounds nice. It must be hard sharing him with the world like that.” A tear falls down and I wipe it quickly, hoping Jake didn’t see. In a moment of vulnerability, I decide to tell him something I haven’t spoken aloud before. “My friends say they don’t understand why I am unsure about Glen. It’s not that he isn’t nice or good looking, I just know I’d have to share him with the world. I already have to be second for my Father… I just want to be first for someone.” Sadness crosses Jake’s eyes. He blinks it away, “You will be to someone.”

[not-neverland06]

𝙴𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎 - 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚊𝚍 𝙻𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚍

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

A/N: Ah, we've finally arrived. The last stop on this journey. I honestly thought I would feel more relieved saying goodbye to these two but it's a little bittersweet. Arthur is such an important character to me and one I've always held close to my heart. Being able to write this series for him is definitely one of my prouder moments as a fanfiction author. Thank you all for staying along for the ride and all of the love and support you've given me 🫶

Hell Hath No Fury Series (complete)

Summary: The past is behind you, all you have to do now is choose which path you'll follow.

The door before you is covered in a fresh coat of paint. An attempt at erasing the past that almost makes you laugh. There’s no amount of polish that can scrub away the memories and lives embedded in its frame. This estate, once pristine, holds no warmth for you, only the echoes of a childhood so distant you struggle to remember it. 

Still, you know there were moments, brief fleeting moments of happiness before you knew better. Before you understood that love only had a place when it was currency, when it was useful, before you learned that you were just another debt to be collected. 

The door creaks open, and a pair of green eyes scrutinizes you from within. “Mrs. Rowe?” The maid’s timid voice asks hesitantly. 

You don’t know her name, after a while, they all blurred together. Each of them became the same spineless, faceless shadows that bent to your mother’s every whim. You consider correcting her, telling her to call you by your maiden name, but the thought goes sour in your mouth. That name was your father’s, and he had owned you just as much as your husband. 

“Please,” you lift your chin, eyes narrowing at her, “I’m not Mrs. Rowe any longer,” you tell her curtly. 

The maid frowns and the door opens a tad wider. Her nose wrinkles in distaste, but she says nothing, not bold enough to speak out against you. Instead, she bows her head and steps aside, holding the door open to you. 

The scent of overpriced cigars and aged whiskey is thick in the air. Breathing in is like being thrown right back to days of racing through these halls, avoiding your mother’s scoldings and your father’s plotting. You almost feel the twitch of a smile as you peer up the banister of the stairs, where you know your old room is. 

The house remains unchanged, the same ornate rugs swallow your footsteps as you follow the maid down the hall. Chandeliers drip with excess in a way that you always thought was gaudy but your mother claimed show class. 

The maid stops in front of a familiar oak door, bowing her head once more before rushing off like a frightened mouse. Behind it, he’s waiting for you. 

You push the knob down and step inside, your father sits at his desk, posture relaxed as if he were expecting you. A half-empty glass of bourbon rests in his hand, swirling it lazily as he watches you approach. You notice grays in his hair that you’d never seen before, signs of age, and the truth that even money can’t stop the relentless passage of time. 

The lines around his face are deeper than you remember, but his eyes, still sharp and calculating, assessing you for your worth, haven’t changed at all. 

“When I received word from my daughter after nearly a year of believing her to be dead, I certainly hadn’t thought you would have become an outlaw.” You don’t take a seat and don’t say a word. Standing a few feet back from his desk, you keep your face carefully blank. “Van der Linde gang, wasn’t it?”

You don’t bite and ask how he knows, demand for him to tell you how he’s keeping track of you. It’s better to know less about your father’s reach and influence. Besides, little tricks like this haven’t scared you since you were a child. 

He waits for you to speak, huffing out a forced laugh when you don’t. “Finally returned back to me. I can only assume you want something.” He sets his glass down on his desk and leans back in his ornate leather chair. “I presume it has something to do with that outlaw lover of yours?”

Hands clenching reflexively around your purse and the revolver inside, your jaw clenches, the first tell you’ve given him. His lips curl, something cruel dancing behind his eyes. “If you hadn’t already been tainted by that useless husband of yours, I might just keep you here. Sell you to the next highest bidder.”

You don’t flinch and give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But you know he means every word. If you actually still held value or standing in society, he wouldn’t hesitate to put you back under lock and key, using any means necessary to cage you. 

“You can try,” you say smoothly, tilting your head ever so slightly. “But that worthless husband you picked out for me has left me as quite the undesirable.”

Something flickers across his face, amusement, maybe even appreciation for the bite in your tone. That’s the game he plays. He has no tolerance for disobedience and no respect for someone who doesn’t fight back. Perpetually dissatisfied. 

He leans back in his chair, eyes flicking over you. “What do you want, little bird?”

You take your time answering, stepping closer to the desk, glancing over the neatly stacked ledgers and letters. An old pen rests beside his arm, but he doesn’t seem to notice the black ink staining his shirt sleeve. 

“I want Arthur Morgan and the others who escaped with him left alone,” you say, voice even. “The Pinkertons, Cornwall. Every last hunter that’s sniffing after them. I want them called off.”

He raises a brow, lips curling slightly at the corners. “What makes you think I have that sort of influence?”

Your lashes flutter innocently and a demure smile flits across your face. “I know about the deal you made last spring,” you tell him, watching as his face tightens with recognition. “The one that ended with all of those men floating face down in the bayou. You’re the one who taught me to be seen and not heard, father. I just learned to listen.” You let the weight of your words sink in, watching as something like a warning crosses his face. You lean against the edge of the desk, voice dropping to a whisper, “You’ll find the power, and you’ll get me what I want.”

A slow smirk tugs at his lips and you draw back. “I always knew you were observant, listening in when I should have stopped you. Call it fatherly indulgence, but I didn’t think it would turn you into someone so conniving. I could almost say I’m proud if you weren’t such a disgrace to the family.”

Fists clenching by your side, you bite your lip and keep yourself quiet. It’s a waiting game, drawing the prey in to get what you want. 

He drums his fingers against the wood, considering. Then, finally, he sighs, reaching for his bourbon. “Fine. The Pinkertons and Cornwall will lose interest in what's left of your little gang.” He takes a sip, watching you over the rim of his glass. “But Dutch Van der Linde? The ones who followed him? I’m not lifting a finger for them.”

“Good, I wasn’t asking you to.”

That earns you a short, sharp laugh. “Cutthroat, I suppose becoming an outlaw finally gave you a spine. If only you discovered it sooner, it would have been much more entertaining to break you as a child.” 

You swallow hard, taking another step back from him before you feel the urge to put a bullet between his eyes. “What else?” He presses, setting his drink down. “I assume you didn’t come all this way just for that.”

“I need a few high-profile bounty hunting jobs- on paper.”

He arches a brow, “For Morgan?”

You shrug, not willing to give away more than you have to. “For a friend.”

Understanding dawns over his face, followed quickly by an all too familiar smirk. “The sheriffs won’t let a woman collect their bounties, is that it?” You don’t dignify him with a response and he hums, tapping his fingers against the desk as he thinks. “Done.”

Relief unfurls in your chest but you don’t give it away. Nodding, you turn away, but his voice stops you at the door. “You’re a fool for choosing this life,” he tells you, tone light but laced with something darker. “You could have had everything.”

You look over your shoulder, barely meeting his eye. “We have different definitions of what that means,” you tell him simply, “I’d rather be free than a miserable miser like you.” His jaw snaps shut, eyes going cold, and you walk out the door, leaving him behind. 

Arthur leaves Diablo to roam in the valley beside the cabin. When he’d gotten up this morning you were already gone, Lady nowhere to be found. He tried not to worry, he knows by now you’re smart enough to handle yourself. But there’s a lot of people who want to hurt you both right now. Not just the bounty hunters and the Pinkertons, but this land is infested with the Murfree brood. 

Coming back from his hunt now, he can already see Lady trotting up to Diablo, and there on the porch, you sit. Your back is to him as he approaches, fingers tight around a letter in your hand. He vaguely recognizes the handwriting, but not enough to identify the author. 

“Hey,” he mutters, taking a seat on the stoop beside you. You glance up at him, folding the letter away and smiling. “What’s that?” He asks, nodding toward the papers now tucked away. 

Your smile shifts into something a little sadder and you glance out toward the water. “Charles finally wrote me back,” there’s a tone to your voice he can’t recognize, it’s bittersweet. “I think it might be the last letter I receive from him. He has plans to move to Canada. To start,” you hesitate before smiling fondly, “he’s going to start a family.”

Sucking in a deep breath you shrug and look toward him. “How was your ride?”

“Fine,” he dismisses quickly. “Where’d you go this mornin’?”

Your face morphs into something careful, guarded. “I had some business in the city,” he knows you don’t want him to press you further. It’s clear that whatever you were dealing with was something personal. As much as he worries about you, he won’t press, even if the curiosity is gnawing at him.

“You know it’s risky to go out on your own right now.”

You smile, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, “Trust me, I won’t be taking any more risks.” 

The room is quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of your breathing beside him. Arthur lays on his back, eyes glued to the ceiling as his fingers drum a restless beat against his stomach. Moonlight spills through the window, illuminating the cabin with a soft silver glow. 

Sleep has been harder and harder to find. It’s never come easy before, but he’d hoped it might be different now. He’s spent too many years with one eye open, waiting for a knife in the dark or gunfire to crack through the night. Even now, with no enemies nearby, no barking orders, and no campfire flickering just out of reach, his body refuses to believe he’s safe. 

He supposes he isn’t. The Pinkertons will still be after him, he figures he’s probably got a hefty bounty on his head. Large enough for the more reckless hunters to go after him. Sometimes he thinks Dutch might even be out there, seething over Arthur’s betrayal, waiting to find him again. 

Arthur sits up in bed, scrubbing a hand down his tired face. He reaches for the sketchbook resting on the nightstand beside him and flips it open. A piece of charcoal is already wedged between the worn pages and falls into his open palm as he settles against the headboard. Idly, he lets his hand start drawing a far too familiar form. 

The curve of your jaw, the way your hair spills across your pillow, he barely has to look at you to draw it now. Still, he finds his eyes drawn toward your sleeping form, taking in the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. You shift, mumbling something incoherent, and sling your arm over his waist. 

Arthur huffs out a quiet laugh, the warmth of your touch grounding in a way. He runs his hand along your arm, lacing your fingers together as you shift even closer to him. There’s not long to savor the moment before a loud whooping laugh shatters the silence outside. 

His hand stills its idle sketching, body going rigid like a hunting dog who’s found his mark. He sits up straighter, ears straining to hear the night outside the cabin walls. The grating laughter moves closer, faster, and louder than he’s comfortable with. 

He hears the distant sound of a bottle shattering and a sharp crack echoing through the night. Arthur swings his legs over the side of the bed, muscles tense, and catches the flickering glow of fire through the window. It almost sounds as if the horses are screaming in their pen. 

He’s on his feet in an instant, rushing to the door and grabbing the rifle resting along the wall. You shoot up in bed, blinking the sleep out of your eyes, and watch him throw the door open. “Arthur?” You call out, voice thick with sleep but growing more alert. 

“Stay low,” he warns you briefly, already moving through the door. 

Heat licks at his skin as he steps outside. Wildflowers near the fence are ablaze, the flames stretching dangerously close to the horses’ pen. Lady and Diablo run around wildly, bucking at nothing as the fire stretches closer. 

A group of men holler in the distance, growing closer as they circle around the property like wolves. Arthur sucks in a sharp breath, aiming the rifle at the closest one. Murfree boys, he should have known. 

“Should’ve never come on our land!” One of them shouts, lifting another fire bottle, his match dangerously close to the fabric inside. Arthur doesn’t hesitate as he pulls the trigger, the boy and the bottle falling harmlessly to the ground as he slides off his saddle. 

You rush past him, paying no heed to the men with their guns pointed at you. He tries to snatch your arm, but you’ve got a bucket of water in your hands and you’re trying to put the fire out. He sees the way you glance worriedly toward Lady as the flames consume more of the dry grass around you. 

There’s a moment of stillness, the men stop moving and simply stare at Arthur. “He killed Mitch!” One of them shouts, the rest shouting something incomprehensible in rage. Gunfire erupts and Arthur curses, grabbing you and ducking behind the wall of the cabin. Arthur peers around the side and takes another shot before he ducks back into cover, reloading the rifle. 

There aren’t many of them, and they aren’t good shots. But he’s worried about the fire, not the fools shooting at him. The fight doesn’t last long, a few more well-placed bullets and the last of the Murfree boys fall. The only sounds left are the frantic whinnies of the horses and the sound of water sizzling against flames. 

He grabs another bucket and dips it into the lake, stomping out dying embers and putting to rest the remaining fire. When it’s finally out, you slump against him, chest heaving. His heart is still pounding in his ears, adrenaline thrumming in his veins. 

“They’ll come back,” you mutter against his chest, voice quiet but sure. 

Arthur swallows, watching the darkened tree line. They’re not known for letting go of grudges or forgiving the killing of one of their own. “I know,” he tells you, arm wrapping around you and pulling you close. His mind is already made up, he’s taking you somewhere else. And soon. 

The wagon rocks slightly to the side as Arthur directs the horses over a small rock and you reach eagerly for the reigns. “Let me drive,” you demand, the same way he’s been listening to you do the whole ride. 

Arthur snorts, shaking his head and tightening his grip. “Not a chance.”

You lean back on the bench, crossing your arms with a slightly amused tilt to your lips. “Oh, come on,” you admonish, “you act like I’m a bad driver.”

He gives you a flat look, thinking back to the cougar that nearly had you running the wagon off the side of a mountain. “You are a bad driver.”

“Yeah?” You taunt, something challenging in the way you narrow your eyes at him. “Who was it that broke the wheel clean off the last wagon?”

Arthur refuses to make eye contact with you, steering the horses around a rut in the dirt path. He shrugs, “That was different.”

You scoff incredulously, shoving at his shoulder. “How?”  

Arthur shrugs, “That was Dutch’s wagon.”

You bark out a laugh, shaking your head and leaning against his shoulder. “So? That makes it a bad wagon?”

“I ain’t sayin’ it makes it bad, I’m just sayin’ it don’t count.” You roll your eyes but he sees the fondness in your expression as you sit back. He knows you’re letting him win, you could argue with him for hours, running circles around him. Even though you are a bad driver. 

The thick line of trees lining the road slowly thins and opens up. A field of purple wildflowers stretching toward the horizon lay before you. A small stream glimmers under the light of the late afternoon sun and winds its way through. In the distance, at the end of the small trail, he can see John, Abigail, and Jack waiting for the both of you. 

Arthur makes his way up the rest of the off-road trail, nose already wrinkling in distaste at the spot John has chosen for him. He pulls the wagon to a stop and rounds the side, offering you his hand. You roll your eyes at the gesture, smiling playfully and letting him help you down even though you both know it’s unnecessary. 

Arthur adjusts his hat, leveling John with a skeptical look. “You sure this is gonna work?”

John exhales sharply, leveling Arthur with a flat look. He steps forward, holding out Arthur’s cut from what he stole from Dutch. “Why’re you always doubtin’ me?”

Arthur takes the money and crosses his arms, shrugging, “‘Cause most of the time, you’re doin’ somethin’ worth doubtin’.” Abigail makes a noise of agreement, cutting John a sharp glare. You shift uncomfortably beside him and he lets out a sigh. 

He’s never more grateful for you than when he watches John and Abigail interact. That woman wouldn’t be happy with him if he did do everything she asked him to, although he most definitely does not. She’s never going to trust that he can fully integrate into a normal life or make something of himself. Having someone behind you, always doubting you, always judging you, it would drive Arthur insane. 

As much as you’ve gotten angry with him over the stupid choices he makes, you’ve always trusted him. He’s given you plenty of reason to doubt him, and still, you stand beside him. Even when he told you he had some half-baked plan to start a ranch on some cheap land Marston found for him, you followed him. And you trusted him when he told you he could take care of you. There’s no constant scrutinization of the man he used to be. 

He lets Abigail and John bicker, looping his arm over your shoulder and leading you around them so you can get a good look at the land you’re about to be living on. You squeeze his hand, smiling up at him, and Arthur feels some of the weight on his shoulders ease. 

The fire crackles softly outside the tent, casting a flickering light against the canvas walls. This tent is bigger than the one he’d had in camp, more spacious, and with wooden poles to hold it up. It has to be better until the actual house can be built, it’s what you’ll be living in for a long while. 

You sit beside him on the cot, sewing up a hole in one of your pants while he looks through the plans for the house. The scent of lavender and honeysuckle drifts through the open flap along with the sound of the creatures in the forest beyond. 

“I went to St. Denis,” you tell him, and somehow, he knows you mean the morning you disappeared. 

Arthur’s expression pinches, he looks up from the paper, taking in the way your face is illuminated by the dim light. “Why?” He demands, frustration creeping around the edges of his tone. It’s one thing to have gone out on your own, it’s even worse that you went to a place swarming with Pinkertons and cops. 

 “I went to see my father,” you tell him, voice calm despite his tension. You place your sewing to the side and shift closer to him. “The Pinkertons, the bounty hunters,” you pause, eyes roaming over his face to gauge his reaction. “They’ll be leaving us alone now, all of them.”

Arthur rubs a hand down his face, biting back the urge to say something smart. It’s not as simple as that. Whatever you’ve done, whatever favor you’ve called on, men like your father don’t just let things go. He feels like he should be angry. Hell, a part of him is mad that you put yourself at risk. 

But he sees the quiet determination on your face. You reached into your past, took the pieces that could be used against you, and turned it into something that could finally give you both a true clean slate. Arthur exhales, shaking his head. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips and he reaches forward, tugging you closer to him. “A whole new life, huh?”

You smile at him, leaning in until your lips are nearly brushing against his. “Yeah,” you whisper, “A whole new life.” Arthur leans forward, lips catching yours as he tugs you onto his lap. Maybe you acted a bit like a fool, but he can’t blame you. He would have done the same thing if it meant another chance with you. 

A few years later

The morning air is crisp, as always it carries with it the distant scent of the animals around the ranch, and poppies and lilies. Boots creak softly against the wooden planks of the porch as you step outside, pausing for a moment to take in the sight before you. 

Arthur sits in his rocking chair, the slow, steady rhythm of its movements in time with his easy breaths. His gaze remains fixed on the pasture, watching as the horses move lazily through the field, the cattle grazing beyond them. The sun is already high in the sky, warming the porch under your feet. Its golden light spills across the land, lighting up the stream beyond. Every morning, he watches it rise. 

You move toward your chair beside him, settling into the familiar seat. He doesn’t look away from the horizon, but his hand finds yours, calloused fingers warm against your skin. His thumb drags slow circles over the back of your hand, a quiet steady reassurance. 

Neither of you speak as there’s nothing to be said. No threats hang over your heads. No weight presses against your shoulders. 

There is only this. The soft rustle of the grass in the breeze, the warmth of the sun on your skin, the gentle creaking of the rocking chair. And the two of you, the outlaw and the lady. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Hell Hath No Fury Taglist: @buckysblondie @littlebirdgot @heloixe @summerdazed @committingcrimes-2047

@m1stea @pokiona @fleouris @soupvender00 @warmsideofthepillow03

@whimsiwitchy @cloudywithachanceofcrisis @martinys-world

[aquarius-johnny]

nct johnny's master list: fluff ❀ aquarius-johnny

all fluffy posts | masterlist navigation | individual links below:

one-shots:

✦ thank you ≫ an intense and heated argument between Johnny and his ex, makes him appreciate your relationship with his son even more.  ✦ confessions ≫ it’s been four years since you’ve seen your neighbor, johnny. when he returns from university, after graduating in the winter, you realize he’s no longer the boy next door you remembered. ✦ merry christmas ≫ you don’t really care for the holiday season, but johnny was absolutely in love with it, so he made it his mission to make the holidays special. ✦ give me a reason ≫ johnny finds out you know about his confession, but not in the way he was hoping. ✦ family affair ≫ johnny asks you to meet him to tell you something he’s been hiding from you.  ✦ in the moment ≫ amidst Johnny’s incredibly hectic schedule, he finds time to see you to ensure that you know he still loves you. ✦ blind dates ≫ your parents’ paranoia and panic set in when they realize you weren’t settling down which causes them to line up a few blind dates. little do they know, you already had someone waiting for you. ✦ coffeehouse ≫ johnny is infatuated with you, a stranger he saw at the coffee shop. ✦ plan c ≫ although traumatized by a painful past, you tell johnny you’re pregnant and he’s nothing but excited to be a daddy. ✦ confidence is key ≫ filled with insecurity and doubt about every aspect of yourself, johnny makes sure you know where he stands with the parts you absolutely dislike. ✦ playing nurse ≫ johnny is sick and wants you to come over and take care of him. ✦ love, johnny ≫ johnny uses playlists as a way to tell you he loves you. ✦ father’s day surprise ≫ this particular father’s day is a lot more special because you decide to tell johnny he’s going to be a father.  ✦ final call ≫ nct night night is back and in full swing and everyone is excited, except your 3-year-old daughter who just can’t seem to let her dad go. ✦ disconnected ≫ based off the song disconnected by 5 seconds of summer.

blurbs:

✦ johnny rummages through old christmas... ✦ neighbor!johnny always hears you blasting... ✦ your heart pounded against your chest as you... ✦ the crowd of people around you shout... ✦ a date with johnny... ✦ olderbrother!johnny hides in the corner... ✦ amidst his incredibly hectic schedule... ✦ dropping your bag near the door... ✦ tossing and turning in bed, you enviously... ✦ roommate!johnny begging you to...

drabbles:

✦ johnny sits on the living room couch… ✦ high school volleyballstar!johnny turns... ✦ johnny could feel the hurt that radiated off… ✦ after a long day of shopping with johnny... ✦ it wasn’t a surprise that girls would swoon... ✦ you deserve so much better... ✦ they can’t hurt you anymore… ✦ you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to... ✦ the sun’s ray beamed through your window as... ✦ you felt exhausted, not only physically but... ✦ backstage is hectic, clothes thrown... ✦ viciously typing your keyboard, you let out a... ✦ your hands tangled into Johnny’s... ≫ mature ✦ okay, I’m gonna run to the corner store... ✦ after completing your intensive skin care... ✦ johnny wakes up to find you passed out on... ✦ you found comfort and solace when... ✦ don’t be scared, i’m right here… ✦ your relationship with johnny could be... ✦ you weren’t sure why you had stopped... ✦ how you got involved with johnny is a... ✦ you found yourself on the doorstep... ✦ you absolutely hated crying in front of johnny... ✦ it was your first day of college and... ✦ will they like me... ✦ you and johnny were neighbors since... ✦ the silence of the room is replaced with... ✦ johnny rests his head on your lap as you... ✦ i bought this because i thought you’d like it... ✦ i always want to kiss you... ✦ "welcome home, baby,” johnny greets... ✦ you pat johnny’s broad shoulders as... ✦ it wasn’t too long into your relationship... ✦ it had been 3 months since you and johnny... ✦ you and johnny lay under the night sky... ✦ adrenaline pumped through your veins... ✦ johnny hated when you were on the phone... ✦ the soft melody plays in the background... ✦ “can’t wait for our baby to be born”… ✦ as you approach your front door, you’re met... ✦ fit of giggles erupt as you walk through… ✦ laughter erupts from the tiny body... ✦ johnny always made it a point to wake… ✦ your heart fluttered immensely as you... ✦ johnny admires the twinkle in your eyes... ✦ sitting his daughter on the couch… ✦ “hey,” johnny greets shyly as... ✦ "for it being the first time you’re trapped"... ✦ when you received a phone call from... ✦ johnny is a sentimental man, maybe the most... ✦ “daddy, it’s too cold here!” …

[biggerbearficrecs]

January 2025 Fic Recs

A list of what I’ve read/am reading this month.

[Note: Sorry for the delay.]

All recs underneath the cut:

Summary:

Teaser:

The Restless One by @bullet-prooflove (Colter Shaw x Reader)

Summary: Colter never sticks around in one place until now.

Teaser:

He sighs, thinking you’ve disappeared again but then he hears the crackle of wood outside, sees the orange glow of a fire peeking through the blinds.

He brings the blanket with him when he steps outside of the trailer. There’s a bite in the Nebraska air that causes goosebumps on his skin, he can see them on yours too as you sit out here in nothing but his t-shirt with a mug of tea clasped between your hands.

The scent of lavender reaches his nostrils, it’s infused with honey and camomile. Nightime tea, he realises, the exact same type his mom used to make when he was a kid.

“Bad dreams?” He questions as he drapes the blanket around your shoulders, squeezing them gently before he sits down alongside you.

“You think I’d be used to them by now.” You sigh, tucking yourself up against him.

“I don’t think it’s ever something you get used to.” He says softly, staring into the fire. “I still dream about the night my father died, finding him at the bottom of that cliff…”

He trails off then because he doesn’t like going back to that night, the guilt that’s associated with it. For the longest time he’d thought Russell was responsible, but then he ran into him again, looked into his eyes he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that his brother had killed their father.

“They say that PTSD changes your brain chemistry.” You tell him as you cradle the mug to your chest. “Mine must be seven shades of fucked up at this point.”

“I’d say we’re both a little fucked up.” Colter concedes as he gathers you up close, shielding you from the coldness of the night. “It’s probably why this works so well.”

A comfortable silence falls, the two of you watching the flames as they lick up towards the sky trying to chase away the darkness.

The Exit Strategy by @waynes-multiverse (Russell Shaw x Female!Reader)

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there’s one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Teaser:

“So, what’s the plan here?” Colter asked with a clear of his throat. “You just wanna stay here and wait till she accidentally runs across the street?” It was meant as a joke, but to Colter’s dismay, Russell remained dead serious.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” the older Shaw confirmed and squinted his eyes at the busy street. Again, he had omitted a few things. In his mind, Colter didn’t need to know why Russell knew to be in front of the post office at exactly 15:03 (UTC–4) on a Tuesday.

Colter snorted a laugh. “What? C’mon, that can’t be the plan… Do you know how many people live in Falls Church? Or in the general Washington metropolitan area? We could be here for days. Weeks even…” The younger Shaw then switched fully into work mode, grabbing his phone from the Bluetooth car mount. “We’re never gonna find her like this. You got a phone number, maybe?” But before Russell could answer, Colter replied himself, shaking his head at his own silliness. “What am I even asking? Of course you don’t.”

Russell only smirked at that.

Unspoken Words by @winchesterwild78 & @cheekygirl2309 (Jensen Ackles x Reader)

Summary: This one is about a single mother with a nonverbal autistic daughter who loves Supernatural. The reader is going to a Supernatural Convention with her daughter and things unfold from there.

Teaser:

We were walking around looking at everything they had. Lily saw shirts and other items with Jensen on them and immediately wanted them. 

Then I heard a laugh that instantly pulled my head in the other direction. Standing at the Radio Company table was Jensen. 

My heart beat wildly. Lily didn’t hear or see him at first, but then he started talking and she saw him. 

Her eyes went wide and before I could stop her she ran towards him, arms wide and hugged his leg. 

“ Oh, who’s this?” He said as I walked up. Clif was instantly by his side. I was so scared we were about to be kicked out. 

“I am so sorry. She saw you and got away before I could grab her. Lily, let go. Come on baby.” She held tighter. Jensen smiled at me and bent down, “Hello Lily. It’s nice to meet you.” She held tighter. 

“I’m so sorry. She doesn’t speak. She’s nonverbal but loves Dean. We watch the show together as a way to bond. Lily, please let go. He has to leave. We have to leave.” 

She shook her head no. I took a deep breath trying to hold myself together.

1am by @bullet-prooflove (Joe Velasco x Reader)

Summary: You call Joe at 1am asking for a ride

Teaser:

You’re asleep, curled up in the passenger seat of Joe’s car, his leather jacket draped around you. He turns up the heating, reaching over to alter the vent so the warm air blows in your direction.

You’d scared the hell out of him tonight, calling him up at 1am drunk and crying, begging him to pick you up. He doesn’t think he’s ever dressed so quickly in his life. He’d found you hanging around outside that old bar the two of you used to visit, back when you were more than just friends.

He gets part of the story as he helps you into the car. The man you were with, the one after him, he was fucking someone else. You’d caught him in your bed, left the apartment without so much as your jacket.

Joe can’t say he’s surprised, there’s always been rumours about that guy, he’d tried to tell you that but you’d accused him of being bitter, jealous. It’s the reason the two of you stopped talking for a while because you were half right, he was jealous of the man who got to love you, the one that wasn’t him.

Baby, it's Cold by @winchestergirl2 (Alec McDowell x Reader)

Summary: Alec tries to convince you to stay in bed.

Teaser:

There was a crisp chill in the air when you woke, making you want to snuggle back down under the covers. Turning your head, to check the time you realise you are going to have to brave the chill or face the wrath of Normal for being late to work once again. Although in your defence, how were you supposed to resist the charms of the man who was the cause of your recent tardiness.

As you try to twist yourself out of the warm cacoon you were in, Alec woke up and slid his arms around you, mumbling into your neck 'it's too cold, stay in bed'.

Downpour by @klutzygirl (Brooke x Rachel)

Summary: Rachel and Brooke run out into a storm.

Teaser:

Rachel grabbed Brooke’s hand and gently dragged out of the house, ready to soak up the storm. “What the hell?” a laughing Brooke shrieked as the rain started to pour down on them.

“Figured you’d want to enjoy this,” a grinning Rachel told her before they locked lips.

“Okay, you win this round,” Brooke acquiesced.

“Glad you know who the real winner is here,” Rachel snarked at her girlfriend before twirling her around.

They were both soaked to the bone now but neither one of them gave a flying fuck about it - they could have fun drying each other off in a little while.

Sneaking Away by @caplanbuckybarnes (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: Dean catches you just before you leave the bunker for good.

Teaser:

The creak of the bunker’s heavy door echoed faintly in the stillness of the night, followed by the soft shuffle of boots against the cold floor. You barely made it past the war room when a voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Where are you sneaking off to at this late hour?”

You froze, heart sinking at the familiar gravel in Dean’s voice. Slowly, you turned to see him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his green eyes shadowed with suspicion—and something deeper you couldn’t quite place.

“Dean…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, his boots heavy on the floor, the sound unnerving in the silence. “What’s in the bag?” he asked, nodding toward the duffel slung over your shoulder.

You tightened your grip on it instinctively, your stomach churning. “It’s nothing. I just need some air, that’s all.”

“That why you’ve got your car keys, too?” His jaw clenched, his gaze burning into yours.

You bit your lip, unable to meet his eyes. You’d spent weeks working up the nerve for this moment, convincing yourself it was for the best. But standing here, with Dean looking at you like that—like you were breaking something inside him—it was almost too much to bear.

#11 by @talesfromlissom (SDV Leah x Female!Reader)

Teaser:

Leah looks up and behind the couch again, her grip on her fuzzy blanket tightening. There’s another crash against the door, causing Leah to flinch. You turn to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Leah?” You whisper.

“I heard it again.” She whispers. “The…banging on the door.”

“Banging?” You ask.

Leah nods, her eyes fixed on the door infront of her.

“Do…Do you think-” Leah starts.

“No, I never think.” You chuckle, grinning afterwards. Leah frowns.

“Sorry.” You mutter, clearly not being able to lighten the mood.

Leah scooches over to you, resting her head on your shoulder.

“You don’t think someone is trying to break in…right?”

You shake your head.

“In this weather? No. I wouldn’t even go out in this weather. I think it’s just the thunder, dear.” You say, planting a soft kiss on her head.

Hush Hush Behind The Shield by @syrma-sensei (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: Being America's greatest hero's wife has its perks, but they don't come for free…

Teaser:

You crooned softly as you wrapped a towel around your body after you finished your shower. Stepping out, you rubbed your hair with another towel and made your way down towards the kitchen to check on the pie.

Oh, Ben liked pies. You found it amusing how he'd swallow a whole pie alone and wouldn't affect him one bit; a supe sure required a lot of calories. Sometimes, you wished you had his great metabolism.

The moreish scent of baked dough and chocolate told you it was ready. You opened the oven door with a protected hand and placed the delicious pie by the window to let it cool down while you dressed up.

On your way back to your bedroom, you padded through the living room again. Your eyes glanced fleetingly at the screen only to stop abruptly in your tracks. A slight frown made it to your face as you saw a picture of Ben and Crimson Countess together. You never liked Countess. Something about her always disturbed you, and your guts were right.

Your eyes roamed the headline over and over, dilating in stupor.

Breaking News: Soldier Boy and Crimson Countess are officially together, Vought announced.

You shook your head in disbelief, hand grasping the remote control from the couch, shivering fingers shuffling through the channels.

Soldier Boy finally found the one!

Your heart paced up with each press.

A long awaited power couple is now here!

Vought just shocked the world by—

And here's Soldier Boy and Countess's statement…

It was hard to quell your simmering anger when you saw your husband smiling face with that bitch between his arms. Camera flashes and clicks swarmed around them with an entourage of reporters and interviewers.

“Hey, Soldier Boy, now you're together, what can you tell us about the first time you saw Countess? Was it love at first?” A reporter asked.

Ben scratched his beard with his gloved hand, drawling “First time I met Tess was when Vought concocted a hero collab years ago, remember that honey?”

You did remember that event very clearly. You were still Ben's secret girlfriend at the time, and it was exclusive to superheroes, yet Ben brought you there as his date.

Ben grinned as if dreamily reminiscing about the memory as he continued, “And lemme tell ya one thing, this one is a firecracker.”

Countess giggled playfully, gazing up at your husband in the most flirtatious way, it made you gag with disgust.

You scoffed bitterly at the blatant lies spurting right in your face. That specific night, Ben had childishly grumbled and complained about how much he wanted to be out of there. And to spice things up, he playfully dragged you from the pristine hall the event took place in, and fucked you raw against one of the wall of some other hall, keeping your panties as a souvenir for the rest of the soirée. He kept teasing you through the entire night, riling and messing you up. At the time, it was thrilling and venturous. Now, however, it knotted at the tip of your stomach. His focus that day was solely on you. He wasn't even aware of the bitch's presence for all you care.

“And when I first saw her… knew she was the one….”

You couldn't comprehend what Ben said after that point as a deafening buzz bolted through your ears. Tears rolled down your cheeks, and soon they were streaming from your eyes as you stood numb on your spot. Your tears splattered on the ground along with your heart.

"I'd let you if you asked" by @heavysighing-dreamyeyes (Jason Todd x Reader)

Teaser:

Jason Todd always had a habit of being in your space. It's something you didn't mind, but it is something you kept note of. He leans towards you, head angled down to catch every sound that comes through your throat, observing every twitch of your muscles with a sharp, intent gaze.

But even if he always seems to linger in your shadow, even if his eyes darkened with the desire for something more, he was careful. He never touched you before you touched him, and he always caught himself, when his fingers instinctively reached for you.

Something as simple as a hug, a brush over the back of your hand, a tousle of your hair, he denied himself over and over again. It was almost frustrating to see him denying himself something you never held back from him.

He melts into every hug you give, relishes when you thread your fingers together, nearly drops to his knees every time you kiss his cheek.

But then he'll falter, when you pull away, like he's snapping back to reality. He'll remind you that he's not good. In not so many words, he tells you he's poison. That he'll end up ruining you. Breaking you.

You think he's silly for it, because Jason Todd is nothing but good.

Helping Hand by @bensonstablers (Benson x Velasco)

Summary: Prepared to go home for the night, Velasco finds Olivia still in her office and sticks around to check in with her.

Teaser:

He moves closer to where she stands but not too close, afraid to spook her again.

“Here.”

She turns, looking a little startled but not scared. Her eyes narrow in confusion then down to the bag of peas he’s holding up and her face turns to amusement as she raises a brow at him. “Peas?”

“Yeah, I picked them up.” He feels nervous suddenly. “Figured they might come in handy with," he gestures vaguely to her face, "and I wanted to do something.”

She visibly softens and when she speaks, her voice is quiet but sure. “You’ve done a lot. I don’t think we could have gotten to Oscar Papa as quickly as we did without you helping to get his driver's name.”

“It was nothing.” He shrugs. “And anyway, I know from experience that frozen peas can sometimes be better, more comfortable, than ice.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re in pain.” He urges the bag towards her. “Now, all due respect, Captain… Take the bag.”

An amused smile forms on her face. “Is that an order, detective?”

“If that’s what works for you.”

There’s a moment before Olivia huffs out a laugh and swipes the peas from him and Velasco can’t help the triumphant smile that crosses his face. There’s a slight roll of her eyes before she presses the bag to her face. He has to bite back a laugh when a groan escapes her and her shoulders sag with relief.

“I’ll let it pass that you gave me an order, if you don’t let it get to your head that this was a good idea.”

He really does laugh then and feeling emboldened he guides her over to the couch, ignoring her protests, and gets her to sit down.

"All that tough talking you were doing and now look at ya" by @daryl-dixon-daydreams (Negan Smith x Reader)

Teaser:

"Whoooa, whoa! Okay—hey, doll. Take it easy. Negan's here," he said, kneeling down beside you. "I'm gonna help you outta here, alright?" One of your pant legs was absolutely soaked in blood and your teeth were gritted against the pain. You had a hand pressed over your thigh but blood was seeping out between your fingers alarmingly fast.

You looked up at him and your eyes were fearful and a little disbelieving to see him there. "Didn't I tell you, about two hours ago, to 'fuck off'?" you breathed.

Negan couldn't help chuckling a little despite the situation. He pulled a spare shirt from his bag and ripped a strip off. "Anything you want to take back?"

You shut your eyes and leaned back against the tree behind you. "I don't know. Let me think about it."

He smiled. "Yeah, alright. While you think about it, I'm gonna save your life, okay?"

Against the Wind by @zepskies (Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega Female!Reader)

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

Teaser:

You wake up freezing and shivering in pain. A sensation of small sharp needles begins to travel all across your skin. Slowly, as you’re able to blink, your view of the dark wood cabin clears and focuses. You realize that you’re bundled in blankets, and laying on a chaise in front of a large fireplace. Still, you’re too cold. A keening whimper escapes you as you try to burrow in.

Alpha. Your body instinctively recognizes his presence, as he’s suddenly there, hovering close above you with a divot between his brows and a frown marring his face, where thick stubble threatens to become a beard. Stern, dark brows are furrowed over his concerned eyes. His plush frown is framed by a stubborn-looking chin. Your gaze wearily travels over his handsome features, his short brown hair, the flickers of firelight that splash across the side of his face.

He places a warm, calloused hand on your forehead, and he mutters a curse. Your body trembles further with cold. You part your lips, but you can’t yet force your voice to escape them.

Again, he quite literally takes the problem into his own hands. He peels away the thick blankets just to slide himself in behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and you feel their tempered strength when they cage you in against him. You manage to turn your head and rest your cheek against his chest, covered by red plaid. Thank you…

Almost on reflex, you breathe in his scent deeply.  The earthiness of it calms you, warms you from the inside. Your shivering eventually calms and turns to purring in your chest. 

“What’s your name, Omega?” he asks. His voice is deep and gruff, and it threatens to make you shiver for a different reason as the timbre of it washes over you. 

It’s difficult, but you manage to speak, clearing past your parched throat to give him your name. He nods, as if rolling the sound of it back and forth across his mind.

“Was somebody out there with you?” he asks.

You shake your head, even though the thought elicits a painful twinge in your heart. 

“Who…” you try to speak again, even though it hurts a little. “Who are you?”

You feel him take a deep breath. He hesitates, like he’s reluctant to give it to you. 

“Dean,” he says. 

You roll the name around in your head, over and over. Dean, Dean, Dean…

You smile slightly. “Yeah, makes sense.”

Forging A New Life by @klutzygirl (Beau x Cassie)

Summary: Beau and Cassie start building a new life once they move in together.

Teaser:

Beau dropped a box on the floor and groaned. “I hate moving,” he complained to his girlfriend.

Cassie glanced down at the box then looked back up at him. “You’re lucky there’s nothing breakable in there,” she teased.

He shrugged. “Eh, fuck it even if there was anything fragile. I don’t care anymore.” He plopped down on the couch, needing to take a break.

Cassie joined him and smiled when he wrapped his arm around her. “Moving sucks.”

The ranch was perfect so that was a point in its favor - as was the woman he loved. He and Cassie were forging a new life together - with Emily and Kai - that they hoped would last. This was a second chance at love for both of them. They didn’t intend to waste a minute of it.

Okay to Cry by @romancingromanoff (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Summary: (request) Natasha romanoff and reader? Established relationship. Reader has a really really bad day and comes home crying, doing her best to hide her tears from her girlfriend but Nat finds out anyway?

Teaser:

You wiped a couple of stray tears off on your sleeves and blinked profusely while fanning your face. Looking in the rear view mirror again you noticed that your eyes were indeed a little puffy but you could just blame it on allergies. Sighing at your predicament, you dragged your way out of your car and tried not to make too much noise fumbling with your keys at the door. You opened it as quietly as you could and stepped into the house.

“Hey, babe,” Nat’s voice came from the kitchen where you could also smell leftovers being cooked up.

“Hi!” you tried to sound like your normal chipper self but then whined at how over exaggerated that came out. She would definitely be suspicious now…

“You’re excited. Good day at work?”

“Um, yeah,” you carefully put up your coat and bag near the door so that you were facing away from your girlfriend at all times. “Addison’s birthday was today so she brought in cupcakes for everybody.”

“Ooh, those ones her boyfriend the baker does with the homemade icing?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you bring me one back?” Natasha eyed you looking up from her food and you did your best to try and just casually shrug before just naturally becoming interested in arranging the vase of flowers in the hallway. It wasn’t your worst coverup since you often went a little OCD and organized random things around the house, but you still hadn’t even looked at your girlfriend which caused her to frown in suspicion.

“Uh, no, sorry. He only made enough for everyone at work.”

“I think you’re lying,” her words pierced you with fear and you froze for a second. Trying to play it off, you fake sneezed into your elbow and then continued to take your shoes off, never looking her way.

“You’re right,” you playfully fussed back. “Sorry, I just got hungry on my way home. You know, in the traffic?”

“Y/N,” Natasha was blatantly demanding that you look her in the eyes. You cringed and took a deep breath in before putting on your best face and turning around.

Sweet Like Chocolate by @raz-writes-the-thing (Venom x Reader)

Summary: Venom's enjoys it when you're his host.

Teaser:

WE ARE NOT A BABY.

You tut and continue about making Venom’s tater tots. It hadn’t really been a genuine thought. It’s just that when you and Eddie trade Venom between you like parents trading a toddler for alone time, it kind of felt that way at times. Not that you were complaining, of course. Any time with Venom piggybacking in your head was time well spent in your own personal opinion. 

It was just a shame that you weren’t a better match. Then he could come around with you more often. But no, that was Eddie’s responsibility, it would seem. 

“I know, V- you know how human brains work. Thoughts just pop in unannounced.” 

I WILL ALLOW IT.

You chuckle and pour yourself a glass of wine. A tendril of Venom’s form spreads from your back to put the wine bottle away for you, and you thank him kindly. Checking the timer on the tots, you frown. They were going to be at least another fifteen minutes. 

“What do you want to do tonight, V?” You ask, plopping down on the lounge chair and taking a sip. 

WE WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU. 

You smile softly, and Venom chuckles in your brain in response. That took some getting used to, actually, hearing someone laugh in your mind. But like all things, you acclimated. 

“We’re doing that, buddy,” you reply.

Whiskey and Cola by @french-vanilla-in-the-clouds (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: When Y/N visits Harvelle’s, she’s not feeling her best. It isn’t until another bright-eyed hunter joins her for a drink that things start to liven up…

Teaser:

“Tell me I’m dreaming.”

Y/N gave a start and looked to her left. She hadn’t noticed that a young man had taken a seat on the stool next to her despite the line of empty spots.

She quirked a brow. “Is that your idea of a pick-up line?” she asked, unimpressed.

The man turned away from her to wave at Ellen. “Double shot of whiskey. Rocks!” he called out.

“On it!”

He turned back to Y/N and grinned. “Course’ not. I just can’t believe you ordered a can of Coke at a bar. Just making sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me. You know that they sell booze here, right?”

“I like pop.”

“I can see that. Just take it easy on the sugar, something tells me you’re sweet enough,” he said with a wink.

“Dean Winchester!” Ellen exclaimed, placing an amber glass and a red can in front of the man and Y/N respectively. “Quit heckling my customers!”

“I happen to be engaging in polite conversation here, Ellen,” he said innocently. “No harm done. Oh and before you go, how bout’ you keep a couple of beers on standby for me?”

Y/N chuffed in amusement. “I’ll lay off the sugar alright,” she said. “Just as soon as you tone down on the alcohol. It’ll do a number on your liver, you know.”

He tipped his glass forwards. “Touché.”

Stolen Crown by @roonyxx & @jay-and-dean (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: What happens when she is sent in a world that isn’t hers, but with very familiar faces?

Teaser:

Her back flat against the tree, she turns her head a little to be able to see beyond the thick bark, holding her breath and reaching for the knife in her boot. 

A beautiful, massive shiny black horse is nervously stepping on the ground while the owner of the mare pats it on the neck.

“Easy girl” the man says. 

She frowns, keeping the dagger in her hand, ‘that voice… I know it.’ When she dares to look between the leaves, her eyes widen.

“Dean?” she says with a confused smile, putting the knife back in her boot, as she steps from out of the bushes.

“My Queen !” he throws his leg over the majestic black horse and steps off, right away going down on one knee in front of her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I have been looking for you, my Queen” he says towards the ground, not looking up to her once.

“Queen ?” she huffs, still a little dizzy. “Where the Hell are we, Dean ? And what the fuck are you wearing, is that… a freaking armor?” she asks, pointing at his weird clothes.

Dean finally tilts his head upwards. And when he sees her, his eyes nearly fall out of his head, his mouth is open but no words leave his lips. The more he stares at her like she was naked, the more she starts to feel a little self conscious.

His eyes slowly travel up her bare legs, a confused expression on his face, when she bends a little to make eye contact with him he quickly adverts his gaze.

“Your Majesty, what happened to your robes ? Are you harmed ?” he asks, obviously worried. 

“Cut the crap, Dean, what’s happening ? Where are we ?” she asks, annoyed.

“We are in the…” he looks around a little, apparently wondering what to answer. “In the woods… Not far from the Castle, my Queen” he says.

She stares at him, mouth agape, a deep feeling of confusion replacing the annoyance totally. Her tone changes to something colder, more distant.

“Why do you keep calling me ‘queen’ ?” she asks. “And what’s up with the stupid clothes ?”

He dares looking up at her again, a sorry frown on his face. 

“My apologies, your Highness. I do not understand… Is there something wrong with my apparel ?” he stands up, his eyes searching her face. “Did you hit your head or have you fallen maybe ? You disappeared, my Queen. I have been so worried” he turns to his horse to retrieve a big grey fur cloak. “What happened to your gown, did someone attack you ?” 

His head low, he comes closer to carefully drape the very heavy cape around her shoulders.

“I obviously failed at my duty” his eyes are dark and she clearly recognizes that crushing guilt on his features

She touches the floor length fur coat he put around her with a frown. It’s pleasantly warm outside, there is no need for this… 

Everything he does is weird, and why does he look so different ? Was he hit by a spell of some weird stuff like that time he was losing his memory ? 

Unless… 

If It's Meant To Be by @jawritter (Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!Reader)

Summary: Bad things happen to good people, that’s just the rule of thumb. But sometimes, things happen for a reason, and that reason is so you can find the person you’re meant to be with…

Teaser:

“Go away Omega,” he warned, sending a shiver down her spine at the use of her title in his voice. “You’re not safe here.”

Now, normally, that would have sent her running, screaming in the other direction. But she was nothing if she wasn’t stubborn, and fuck if he didn’t smell amazing, and the way his deep voice rolled over made her heart hammer so loud against her ribcage that she seriously thought he could probably hear it through the door. There was no way she could run now if she wanted to. The Omega had gotten his scent, and she knew what she wanted. She wanted her Alpha. Beau was her Alpha, she knew it, she just knew it. 

“Alpha, please, open the door,” she pleaded and he whined as she placed her hand on the cold silver steal of the door. “Jenny said you’ve been sick for days now. I can help. Just let me in.”

“Darlin, you don’t want to be tied to a man like me, and if you come in here, I’m not gonna be able to stop. Leave, please, while I still have the composure to let you,” he tried again, and she flinched at the rejection in his voice. 

He was standing closer to the door now, probably leaning on the other side, because she could swear that she felt the heat of his body coming through the thin steel. 

“You’re not gonna scare me off Beau,” she stated matter of factly, rooted in her own stubbornness. She never was one to give up very easily and walk away, especially not when it took all the self convincing to even come all the way out here to see him. 

“I’m not trying to scare you, I’m telling you the truth,” he growled through the door. “I’m telling you the truth. I’ve got more baggage than I can even handle on a good day. My job is dangerous, I’m more likely to die on the end of some asshole’s gun than I am to retire. I’ve got a child with another woman. I live in a goddamn tin-can that I call a trailer. I’m old enough to be your dad. I’m action packed with issues you will hopefully never see. I’ve got trust issues, and separation anxiety. I talk to fucking much. I promise you Omega, you don’t want me. No one does.”

Y/N leaned her forehead against the cold door, and closed her eyes to fight against the sudden pit that had begun to form in the pit of her stomach. His scent had changed to an almost sour, oppressively sad scent that could have been suffocating, and it told her that he believed every word that had just come out of his mouth. It made her heart ache for him.

Marry me in the battlefield by @herstarburststories (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: Dean decides to propose you in the midst of a hunt.

Teaser:

The surprise stokes him when he recognizes them on your face, moonlight shinning on you as if its only mission is to give you light to search in the dark for more monsters. Lisa understood job, but you understand what exactly comes with it. Not only the anxiety, not having a home for too long, or the fact that there are guns hidding in every inch of places you stay for a couple hours.

You understand the thrill, the necessity to keep going, how the blood in your hands is never going to be washed, so you might as well make it worth it.

And you smile. You smile as if it was a romantic date and you couldn’t wait to kiss him. You smile as if this is a good routine. You smile as if you are excited to crumble into a random restaurant and eat food that will kill you from inside.

And Dean knows you mean all of it. You want this life, you want him. You love how it goes.

Therefore, it’s no shock when the words leave his lips, “Marry me.”

Sam stops on his tracks, holding a vampire’s head as a football ball; he is surprised, and so are you. Ok, this specific moment might be unsettling for normal people, but what would be more fitting than that for you two?

You frowned, unsure of your own ears, “What?”

“I said, marry me.”

Love On the 26th Floor by @wayward-dreamer (Dean Smith x Reader)

Summary: Y/N has been working as a personal assistant to the successful CEO of Smith Construction Co, for just a few weeks. It may not be her field of expertise, but she needs this job to pay off her student loans and live her life as she tackles a part-time Masters degree at the same time. She finds her boss Dean Smith incredibly intimidating and insanely attractive; but an office fling is the last thing she needs, especially with her employer. But you can only avoid temptation for so long…

Teaser:

“Congratulations to Y/N, on her new job at Smith Construction!”

Y/N and her friends clinked their glasses of champagne together, cheering for her as the loud chatter of the bar continued around them. Y/N sipped the sparkling liquid, smiling at her friends.

“Thank you,” she said, wrapping her arm around Annie, who had just given the toast.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be working for Dean Smith,” Emma exclaimed from across the table. “He’s so fucking gorgeous!”

“You get to look at his face any time you want,” Annie said, smirking.

“And maybe even do something else,” Emma suggested, wagging her eyebrows. The girls laughed, but Y/N didn’t join in.

“Guys, come on. I’m not going to sleep with my boss. I need this job and I’m grateful he even gave it to me. So, drop it. Okay?” she told them, looking between both her friends, an eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, Y/N. We were only joking,” Emma muttered, a sheepish look gracing her face.

“It’s okay, let’s just forget about it.” Y/N took another sip of her drink, before picking up the menu from the table. “Alright, what’re we eating?”

As her friends continued to decide what they wanted, Y/N’s mind pondered over what they had just talked about. Dean Smith had absolutely had an effect on her, and she knew how hard it was going to be to work for him now. However, no matter what happened, she couldn’t give into the thoughts she was having about him. As much as she wanted him to rip her clothes off and bend her over his desk, she couldn’t let it happen.

She needed this job, and she was determined to keep it.

Too Close To Gone by @jawritter (Huntercorp!Dean x Reader)

Summary: Dean’s been gone for a year. You have been gone from the Bunker for just about as long. When you finally get the guts to go back “home” after leaving, someone you never thought you’d see again stumbles into your life, and now you have to figure out how to move on with a constant reminder of what you’ve lost following you around in the flesh.

Teaser:

Slowly, you peek around the wall, and stop in your tracks, nearly  dropping your gun at the sight that was waiting for you. 

At first, you were  in utter shock at seeing Dean’s face, albeit battered and more than a little banged up, but it was his face. His eyes stared bewildered back at you as he raised his hands slowly, using the sidewall of the building to brace himself. 

Once the shock faded, anger took its place. You fired a shot at the ground close to the creature’s feet before you even realized what you were doing. The damn idiot just sank to the ground and covered it’s face. 

How could this creature, whatever the fuck it was dare put on your dead boyfriend’s face. How dare it imitate him. You were going to destroy it, whatever it took. 

“Y/N! Please, it’s me! It’s Dean!” It yelled at you from it’s cowered position on the ground as you fired off another round, this time one much closer  than the previous one that had landed in the dirt. You hadn’t intended to taunt the creature, but whatever the fuck it was that was trying to act like he was your Dean, that shit  wasn’t going to fly. 

Tears were rolling down your face in  anger. You had never been so sick. So angry. The last time you had seen that face was when you had spent hours washing off the blood that had dripped from his lips, and you wrapped him up so carefully to be burned. Now, it was calling your name a damn look alike? You couldn’t think. All you could see was red. 

“Don’t you fucking dare imitate Dean, you sick son of a bitch. I’m going to fucking kill you, you understand me. You’re going to fucking die. Dean is dead. I buried his ashes myself, and you’re going to come here and try to act like him! After you sons of bitches took him from me!”

This time you sent a round straight to it’s thigh muscle, and it screamed in pain, it’s voice an exact echo of what Dean’s had been. It was silver bullets in the gun, a devil’s trap carved into the blunt tip of the bullet. If it was a werewolf you would have gotten a hell of a lot more than a scream, and if it was a demon it wouldn’t be able to try and roll away from you like it was doing. Silver would have proved it a shifter too, but something wasn’t right.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I’m not imitating Dean. I am Dean goddammit! From the other world! The one Chuck destroyed! Remember? You were there when my brother Sam and I left  here!”

You froze on the spot, completely unable to move. 

Meet Cute by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader)

Summary: Reader is surviving in the apocalypse alone, until she meets a stranger who needs her help, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. This is a reimagining of when Daryl gets hurt trying to find Sophia in Season 2, in which the reader shoots Daryl instead of Andrea. This can be read as stand alone, but can also be read as a prequel fic to “Your Fault,” describing how reader and Daryl met for the first time.

Teaser:

You hear a strange sound behind you and as turn around, bag in hand, you notice that the man isn't on the ground anymore. He's standing, crossbow drawn, pointed directly at your chest.

Great.

"Where the hell am I?" The man growls.

Your chest tightens in fear. By the time I reach for my gun he’ll shoot me.

"It’s okay." You force the tremor from your voice, trying your best not to look frightened. The bag drops to the ground  and you hold up your hands in front of you in a gesture of surrender. "You're at my cabin. You're safe."

"Why?" His eyes narrow as he takes another step forward.

This was such a bad idea.

The One That Got Away by @justwhisperingfantasies (Jensen Ackles x Reader)

Summary: You thought you had left Supernatural and Jensen in the past, but almost 6 years later you get roped back in when your job is on the line.

Teaser:

“I don’t think I can do this.” A nervous Jensen admitted walking up to the curtain on the stage between you and Jared.

“Jay, you got this,” Jared assured him.

Jensen took a deep breath. “Did you get the seat?” He looked over to you.

“Yes, I’ll be right in front of you. When you get nervous or overwhelmed just look down and I’ll flash you or something.”

Jensen let out a laugh lifting his face.

“Um, (y/n) I’m feeling a bit nervous too. “ Jared professed

You and Jensen glared at him. “I think you’ll be alright.” You told him walking over to the  stage entrance

“You guys got this.” You kissed Jensen on the cheek. “I love you both.” You then kissed Jared on the cheek. “Have fun!!” You said as you turned to walk away.

“Love you too.” They said at the same time. You could hear the boys talking, but you couldn’t make out the words.

Lily was standing by the wall. She started walking with you as you passed. “Are you ever going to tell him how you feel?” You rolled your eyes and looked back at Jensen.  He blew you a kiss and mouthed thank you. You nodded and gave him a smile.

“Probably not.” You said facing forward and continuing walking.

Princess Treatment by @storiesofsvu (Terry Bruno x Reader x Joe Velasco)

Teaser:

You tugged your lip into your mouth, glancing toward the bathroom once again and were just about to slip your fingers into the waist band of your shorts when a beep echoed from the door and you nearly jumped, reaching out for your cocktail again.

“Hey.” Joe flashed a tired smile in your direction as he let the door fall shut behind him, already tugging the shirt off his body to toss in the direction of his bag. He stalled slightly, glancing back to you as his hands came to his belt buckle, “you mind?”

“Huh?” You barely pulled your eyes away from the television and he chuckled.

“Who am I kidding, you’re already in your underwear.” Another couple of seconds and he was stripped down to his briefs, wandering to the mini fridge to grab a beer while you drained the rest of your cocktail. He looked up at the sound of your straw scraping the bottom of the glass combined with a muffled noise he couldn’t quite make out, “what?”

“Neighbour’s got company.” You explained, nodding your head toward the wall.

“Great.” He muttered, grabbing a beer, “you want one?”

“Please.”

He tossed you the chilled can before retreated to the other bed, dropping against it and you couldn’t help but watch out of the corner of your eye as he rolled the can against his neck to help cool down as he settled in. Right as he cracked open the beer there was a rather loud moan from the other side of the wall, followed by the sound of a spank and an even louder noise from the woman. An exaggerated chain of swears and moans began to come through the wall and Jose chuckled.

“Someone’s enjoying themselves.”

“Oh please.” You scoffed, “she’s showing off.”

“Yeah?” He raised a brow in your direction and you rolled your eyes.

“Yes.”

On the other side of the room the shower finally came to a stop, Terry stepping out wrapped in a towel a few minutes later. He was about to greet the two of you when the bedframe from the other room began colliding with the wall, the woman’s wails nowhere near natural and he huffed.

“Are they seriously still going at it?”

“Still?!” You whined, “it sounded like they just started.”

The banging on the wall increased, louder with each hit and you barely had time to wince before Terry pounded against the shared wall with his fist. Silence overtook the room for a couple of seconds, followed by muffled laughter until the moans started up again.

“Looks like no one’s getting any sleep tonight.” Bruno groaned, running a hand over his face.

“Great.” You muttered, taking a swig of your beer.

Stoking the Flame by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior (Beau Arlen x Jenny Hoyt)

Summary: Jenny and Beau have been ignoring the spark between them for a long time. How much longer can they continue?

Teaser:

It had been there from day one.

Under the cover of antagonism and teasing, behind the barriers of obligations and professionalism, there had burned the embers of a fire she knew would quickly flare to life if they ever dared to stoke the flames for even a moment.

Beau broke their locked gaze, as he usually did, looking away into the fire. But he squeezed her knee gently, letting her know without words that he wasn't pulling away completely.

She leaned into him a little closer and laid her head on his wide shoulder, his jacket slightly rough beneath her cheek. He kissed the top of her head before resting his cheek against it.

They stayed that way for a while, knowing that they could continue on like this, simply giving each other comfort and staring into the flames; they wouldn't be going any further, they wouldn't be risking anything, they could still make believe they were just partners, just friends.

They could stay like this and stay safe.

But as though by silent, simultaneous agreement they pulled out of the easy embrace, turning to look at one another. Their gazes connected again and Jenny knew Beau wasn't leaving tonight.

Oh, and before I forget…

Thank you!!! 💕💕

all dividers by @saradika-graphics

[whumpypepsigal]

#ellie resting her head on joel’s shoulder, her hand on his chest comforting him and his head slowly leaning towards her

[insert christina yang yelling “somebody sedate me” gif]

[cookiemumster1]

it’s so funny to me that while i was watching the fallout show, i never even considered the ghoul and lucy as a ship because the entire time her and maximus were on screen i wanted them to be together

[weisscreamcake]

fe3h/asoiaf crossover au where the mittlefrank opera does a production of the dance of the dragons. dorothea is alicent ofc and she manages to get edelgard on board as rhaenyra. they lean fully into the toxic yuri tragedy and there’s not a dry eye in the house at the end of the night

[skoulsons]

She beat his chest.

She beat his chest and he held her.

Well, as best he could with one arm. As best he could in this newfound partnership with a kid. As best he could not know what plagued her mind so much that she lashed out against him. What thoughts and memories were circulating in her mind to send a strong, wise girl into feeling such a way.

His phantom pain and loss on his right side longed to hold her back. To hold her as she deserved to be held. Had she ever been held before? His left hand only jumped between rubbing small circles down her back, tracing her spine, to threading his fingers through her blonde strands, carding the tangles out as he combed his fingers through. But it wasn’t enough.

His hand, as it was against the crown of her head, left too much empty space across her back. He wasn’t holding her at all that point; she was pushing herself into his chest, her fists balled up against it. And with a hand across her back left out, what he figured, was some degree of comfort and reassurance, purely based on the way her breathing changed every time he did.

He couldn’t give her the best of both.

But he did what he could. What, deep down, he thought was right. He’d never comforted anyone, let alone a young girl, in a long time. He hadn’t been comforted, truly comforted, or held in a long time. Like the pain in his right side, it was a sort of phantom pain. Something there was missing, but he could never get it back.

He didn’t say anything and it caught her, and, funny enough, him by surprise. He never stopped talking, they both knew that. She’d told him as much.

You talk a lot.

That I do, birdie.

Even if it was mindless information; meaningless words that meant no stretch of importance in the Black, he said it anyway. Random stories of his time on the Green, mythical tales, old partners, some phrase he picked up in his time as a scoundrel and it’s history that needed a twenty minute explanation. Everything had a place in the air between him and anyone who would listen. Or wouldn’t.

But now, in a moment of emotional vulnerability that they somehow managed to keep at bay until right now, he had nothing. Not a word to lighten the mood (and he’d thought about it, but decided against it), or a word of comfort. Though, he wasn’t exactly sure what could comfort her through something like this.

Her cries had quieted down, only small hiccups strewn across his chest and following sniffles and gasps for air. She loosened her fists against his chest, very gently fiddling with the slack of his undershirt.

He’s not Damon.

Eventually, she adjusted against him and pulled her arms away from his chest and wrapped them around his middle. She held onto her own hands around his back and settled her face more into his chest.

He’s not Damon.

He continued tracing her spine. Whenever a few more tears fell or she’d sniffle or let out a small whimper, he’d bring his arm as far around her back as he could, squeezing her tightly for a moment, eyes closed as his cheek would graze the side of her head. He’d turn into it, every time, nearly swaying them side to side to hold her as tight as he could.

How much was too much? Could he hold her as tightly as he wanted to, that he believed she deserved for all that she’s gone through?

She was a tough kid, that was for sure. He, honestly, never imagined having to do this. Having to comfort some kid who shouldn’t have been been on the green in the first place. A girl who’s father he killed. He shouldn’t be doing this.

He shouldn’t be caring. Shouldn’t be attached, if he could even call it that. Shouldn’t want to hold her tight enough to squeeze the life out of her. To reassure her and try and understand the thoughts in her head and hold them in his own. For her to lay her grievances on him so he could bare them in her place. He shouldn’t be wanting to take care of her.

Reluctantly, she pulled away slowly, reaching up to wipe at her face with her sleeve before he could see her.

Ezras hand hovered, unsure what exactly to do with it. He let it fall to his own side, hesitant to keep on her if she didn’t still want it.

She let her head hang as she pressed her sleeves to her face, trying to sniffle the congestion away that all her crying had given her.

“I’m not… mad at you,” she started, trying to compose herself in front of him despite having just cried against his chest. “There’s a lot that’s happened. Damon, the Saters, your injury, trying to get off the Green, trying to keep you alive…” she sighed, doubting he understood the weight of last frustrating few cycles and how they’d weighed on her.

She looked up shyly, anticipating a more Damon-esque reaction to her outburst. “It’s been a lot and it caught up with me and I didn’t know what to do with it. I’m sorry,” she said, looking anywhere but his eyes.

Ezra gave her a hesitant, soft smile. “That’s alright, little bird, don’t you worry a thing about it. I’m afraid I can’t be mad at you for feeling such a way after all that has transpired.”

He was not Damon.

Damon would ridicule her for feeling anything that wasn’t related to Aurelac, the Green, or survival. He’d make her push through it, refusing any comfort or reassurance, leaving Cee to fight it all on her own. He didn’t let her enjoy things or have likes. She’d tried to talk about The Streamer Girl to him, and every time he’d managed to brush her off and pay more attention to his syrettes or sleeping. He was barely kind. She was barely a person to him anymore, let alone a daughter. An extra pair of hands just so he could get some points.

But Ezra. Ezra was kind. He was soft. He wore a smile that she hadn’t seen in a long time, especially not on her own father. He indulged her likes and even said he’d like to read Streamer Girl someday. He protected her every way he knew how while also missing a limb. He trusted her. Trusted her words and trusted her capabilities.

“Say, birdie, do you plan to write some of your thoughts into that notebook? You spend quite the time in there as is-“

She laughed wetly and punched his arm, “shut up, Ezra.”

He smiled, raising his only arm surrender. “Afraid I’m not critiquing your avocations. Simply an observation.” He paused, his lips forming a tight line. “Think it’d do you well to write them down, birdie.”

He was right. She did spend a lot with her notebook. Writing, mostly. Her own small stories. Retelling Streamer Girl word for word from reading it so many times. Small sketches of what she saw on the Green or out in the Black. The interior of the ship. Ezra.

She could add journaling to the list.

Cee nodded, her eyes still red and slightly puffy as she looked up at him. “Yeah, maybe so.”

They didn’t talk much more that night, the two of them settling comfortably into the silence. Well, silence for Ezra. It was only slightly uncomfortable to him, but with the light scratch of Cee’s pen against the paper and her humming and the tapping of her foot to the tune coming in through her headphones, he managed.

They were managing. A new person, for both of them. For Ezra, a child. For Cee, a guardian. New, unforeseen circumstances to work through. Both of them having someone to care about, to fight for. And the entirety of the Black out there to explore, and they’d be doing it together.

[fore-seer]

insane about lucina today

[geisterland]

There’s one thing that really separates Portugal from the rest of the “main colonizer countries” (UK, France and Spain. I know there are others) in my mind is that, contrary to certain people in his own government, he just feels such like… Immense crushing guilt and shame about his past all the time. Things that happened during the period in which he was dead (estado novo) such as the wars of Independence of lusophone African countries are things he can sort of abstract as not being his fault, but everything that came before it… But honestly, it’s still a twisted kind of guilt, in a way. Portugal doesn’t necessarily feel bad for the colonization itself - because well, he was just following the country he represents, wasn’t he? he didn’t do anything bad out of his own volition! -, he feels bad about his lack of closeness to his former colonial possessions, for having never been there for them. Whenever he’s with the other Lusophone countries, there’s just such an distance between everyone and Portugal, which is something that personally hurts him.

But he knows that he’s never said anything in the past, knows he never made the effort to be there or to make the situation better for them, so these bridges are pretty much broken beyond repair. Portugal desires a weird sense of fatherhood to them, something he knows he can never have because, well… He’s just never having a colony again. He’s never going to have the “opportunity” to get what he really wants - a deep familial connection. He just can’t be a father to them, time has passed, and really, none of them want it either.

Sometimes he wished he could go back in time, do things differently, perhaps even give Iberian Union the type of attention they never received from him or Spain, but he just can’t. It’s impossible. Time’s arrow only goes forward, and he already messed up irreparably.

In principle, Portugal knows that it’s the colonization itself that was bad, but in his mind… The almost selfish desire to be a father is what matters the most.

[sadisticyouko]

so often I feel like I put the more awful parts of my personality on a leash. like I’m always sweet, always cute, catering to the more visual aspects of my personality. but that’s not all who I fucking am. sometimes I get tired. and when the self control part of me gets too tired, I feel like all the awful fucked up parts of me are awakened.

[himblebo]

I haven’t looked in on the unfinished side of our basement in a while and… my dad’s hoarding has actually gotten significantly worse. And we just heard from my grandfather last night that he’s pretty sure my grandmother is going to pass soon. And when that happens, my father’s hoarding is absolutely not going to get better. So. That’s a lot. I brought it up to my mom and she told ME to research psychiatrists that specialize in hoarding. It’s a very eldest daughter kind of day.

[stinkbeck]

oh my god. my dad has that al pacino look 2 him. that’s literally why my mom loved him. oh my godddd

[fromcainwithlove]

.