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mayolive-writes · 10 months

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The Love Plaza | Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x AFAB Reader

Summary: Needing to take a break from the long trip to college, you and Jungkook are forced to stay at the only lodging available within 70 miles, a love motel. And much to Jungkook’s dismay, there’s only one bed.

Wordcount: 4102

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Smut, Best Friends to lovers, Oneshot(?)

Warnings: Dry humping, mild awkwardness (these poor virgins), no penetration (this time), They’re so cute and down bad

Minors DNI

A/N: thought this would be a fun writing prompt to exercise my humor muscle. I often feel that my writing lacks comedic relief, so this was good practice! I wanted this to be goofy as shit, because friends to lovers is just that much sweeter when it’s goofy. I do have a couple other WIPs with this couple though!! One that’s fluffy and another that is significantly spicier.

Enjoy!!

The Love Plaza | Moonlight Trampoline Adventure | Labret

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

You must be shitting me.

Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. Jungkook reads the sign in disbelief. The only lodging in 70 miles was a damned love motel. The bright red neon “18+” sign mocks him.

Unbelievable.

"Hell no, I can keep driving," Jungkook turns to you, there's no way you'd be okay with this.

"Jeon Jungkook, we've been driving on and off for 14 hours in a cramped truck with enough leg room for a toddler. We're both exhausted." You flash him a stern look, "we were honked at five times because we were going off the road!" With a light smack of his chest, you giggle, "besides, maybe they have a room with separate beds!" Your voice drips with sarcasm, calm about the entire situation.

Except you weren't. Inside, you were screaming. A fucking love hotel in the middle of nowhere? This is a sick joke. But despite your inner turmoil, you keep a humored face.

"You're sure?" Jungkook asks again, just to make sure.

Cocking your eyebrow, you give him an incredulous look, "the other option is getting into a crash. I don’t think coffee and 5-hour-energy can't help us now, bun."

He sighs. With every passing second, he can feel his heart losing years of life. This definitely isn’t healthy.

A bell sounds as you and Jungkook enter, catching the eye of a desk clerk. The shabby motel is surprisingly chic inside, with modern hardwood tile, and wallpaper patterned with soft wisteria, giving the space a fresh feeling.

"Hey there! Do you have a reservation?" The smile on the clerk's face is practiced, but falters when he sees the both of you in sweatpants and t-shirts.

He concludes on his own, no, you don't have a reservation.

As you both walk awkwardly up to the desk, the clerk continues, "just the two of you?"

Jungkook answers, "uh--yeah." You spot a basket on the counter and tap Jungkook on the shoulder, pointing.

It's full of different sized condoms in every bright color imaginable. Pink, blue, orange, yellow, purple, green.

You both hold back silly smiles, doing your utmost to keep cool.

"And do you perhaps--" you pick up a condom out of the basket and Jungkook chokes. He takes a moment before looking at the smiley clerk again, "have a room with separate beds?"

The clerk simply stares at Jungkook. Separate beds? In a love motel?

There's been very few moments in Jungkook's life when he was truly Flustered.

1. Confessing to Sandy Morrison in second grade.

2. His first kiss in 11th grade.

3. Figuring out that maybe he wasn’t totally straight.

4. Seeing you, his best friend and crush of at least 6 years, pick up a large condom, neatly packed in bright neon orange wrapping, and pocketing it for some ungodly reason.

Shit.

What are you doing?

You yourself don't know what the hell you're doing. There’s zero intention in your mind of using the condom, of course--not that you wouldn't like to. But you're just trying to have fun. What else do you do in a love hotel? With this thought, you promptly lose your shit when you sight a shelf near the clerk desk that displays a variety of items.

Lube, lace garters (neatly packed in plastic packaging, fancy!), satin blindfolds, fuzzy handcuffs (red, pink, blue, black, and orange!), and the cherry on top--a brochure of "The Best Positions For A Night of Passion!"

The cackle you hold in makes you shake. You hop over to the shelf and ask the clerk, "how much for these?" Pointing to the handcuffs.

The clerk is now thoroughly confused at the contrasting interests in both you and Jungkook, who is flushed in the face--both from embarrassment and holding his laughter in. "Um... They're all a dollar, the pamphlet is free."

The clerk looks back to Jungkook, "and, sir, I'm sorry, but we don't have rooms with separate beds," leaning forward to whisper, he continues, "if you guys are fighting, take the couch."

Well, it was worth a shot.

Once you're both checked in, Jungkook is about to walk away. That is, before he sees you go up to the desk clerk with one of each item that was displayed on the shelf.

Oh.

My.

God.

The clerk looks at Jungkook, his expression screaming, "dude, I can't believe you wanted separate beds!"

You happily stride beside Jungkook through the motel hallway, kinky bag in hand while he carries the luggage. You must be insane. Having finally reached room 40, you both realize that Jungkook’s hands are full of your bags. Awkwardly, you dig into his front pocket, feeling for the card.

"Um..." you look up when he speaks up, "it's in the other pocket.”

Oh. Oops.

You dig through his other pocket.

why are these damn things so dee--

What. Was. That.

Jungkook gasps.

You gasp.

Realizing what you’ve just done, you flinch away, “Oh my god! I’m so fucking sorry--" Jungkook is utterly speechless. This night just keeps getting more and more inconceivable. He says nothing as you dig more cautiously and finally yank out the godforsaken key.

One minute later you're finally in the room, with yours and Jungkook’s cheeks throbbing red.

Nice one, y/n.

As you both walk further in, you gasp. All other thoughts vanish at the sight.

Jesus Christ, what a night.

"Oh my god, Koo!" You drag him in faster and he sees you fall into a burst of laughter, and once he sees it too, promptly loses his composure at the ridiculous sight.

The bed is obviously heart-shaped, the sheets are red satin, and the blankets are pink velvet. The mattress is adorned with frilly heart pillows and lacy detailing, with a black headboard screwed into the wall (which is probably for the best).

You both share gazes of utter astonishment, only to fall over yourselves once more. The sheer ridiculousness of it all hitting you full force. Jungkook’s laughter only falters when he notices that there isn't a couch.

This leaves him with two options. Share the bed with you and sacrifice a sleepless night resulting in another 10 hours of hell tomorrow, or sleep on the plush black carpeted floor and spend the next week with achy muscles and a crick in the neck.

He's gonna have to sleep on the fucking floor.

Quietly, Jungkook goes into the bathroom, leaving you to your own devices.

One bed. God, what a cliché. Jeon Jungkook will not be brought down by some fanfic writer’s wet dream.

Despite the inconvenience of the motel, Jungkook is relieved as the hot water spews from the showerhead. He’s needed this all day. Each muscle becomes looser, and Jungkook finds himself relaxing as the sound of water hitting the floor puddles in his mind.

6 long years.

Jungkook was twelve when he realized he had a big, fat, disgusting crush on you. But he knew it wasn’t a big deal. Crushes pass and fade. It’s impossible not to have a crush at that age.

Jungkook was 16 when he realized it wasn’t just a crush anymore. The poor bastard was head over heels. Down for the count. Your smile made his heart burn—he’d do anything to see it. He’d pull up pictures of you on his phone on the rare occasion he couldn’t see you, just to make sure he could at least see your smile every day. He recalls feeling stupid for feeling so fuzzy about you all the time, but what’s shameful about wanting to see someone you love happy and smiling? Nothing.

At some point, it turned physical. Absolute hell. He felt complete and utter shame the first time he touched himself while thinking about you. It was deplorable how badly and how often he yearned for your lips on his body.

Throughout high school, Jungkook could barely look at anyone else other than you. Others could tell, most didn’t even try making a move on him. Except for his first kiss, taking place after prom in the parking lot. He remembers apologizing profusely to his date the next day, admitting that he just didn’t feel that way about them.

During graduation, he almost slipped. Almost confessed that he wanted to give it a shot. The longing was becoming too much. But no matter how close he came to finally spitting it out he’d always chicken out. You meant too much. And it felt… wrong to spring it on you.

But this? He might break in two. He’s insane, he knows, but that millisecond where you accidentally touched him through his pants almost made him hydroplane, losing all traction on reality.

A knock on the door yanks Jungkook out of his murky thoughts. “If you use up all the hot water, I’ll personally annihilate you, Kookie.”

He can’t hold back a smirk, “yeah, yeah, I’m almost done.”

If hot showers were personified, you’d marry them. Specifically, the ones taken after your best friend, with his scent still lingering. This night has been one hell of a rollercoaster, and you take your time washing away the 14 hours of uncomfortable driving and cleanse your airways. Jungkook has always smelled like home to you. Years of friendship will do that to a person. Not even your own family can make you feel at ease like he does, with the way he shines. Bright enough to feel warm, but not so bright as to scare anyone away.

7 long years.

You were 11 when you realized you had a big, fat, disgusting crush on Jungkook. But you’d had countless meaningless crushes at that age, he was just a crush out of convenience, right?

Wrong.

You were 16 when you realized it wasn’t just a crush anymore. Something about Jungkook’s demeanor with you changed. He was always nice to you, but as Jungkook matured, his rough-and-tumble attitude crumbled away into something softer, cushier, and sweeter. It was unbearable. Whenever he put a secure arm around your shoulder, your heart would squeeze, and then release. First yearning, then comfort.

You wanted him. In more than one way. Never in a million years would you live down the shame from the first time you let him invade your thoughts alone at night. It wasn’t that long ago, really. Jungkook had turned 18, and He wasted little to no time in getting a lip piercing. You nonchalantly said it looked cool, but it kept you up that night.

It was becoming too much, but with graduation fast approaching you thought you’d finally have your out. You’d go off to college, and as much as you’d miss your best friend, you knew you needed to get away, and hopefully the love would fade with time.

Well, that was before you found out that Jungkook was going to the same college as you.

It was pure coincidence.

So here you are. Desperately trying to wash away your increasing desire on both fronts, romantically and sexually.

Regretfully, you step out of the shower into the cold bathroom air. In an instant you’re pulling Jungkook’s stolen hoodie over your head.

The room is dead silent when you leave the bathroom, and you spot Jungkook resting peacefully on the heart-shaped bed. His eyes are closed. It’s moments like these that make you want to give in and just tell him. So what if he doesn’t feel the same way? So what if he doesn’t fight back the urge to kiss you every day? So. Fucking. What.

He’s your best friend. That’s fucking what.

Losing him is not an option.

“Gook?” Jungkook is lightly startled, and you almost feel bad for waking him. “Hey, can you move over?”

“Huh?” He groggily looks around, then realizes, “Oh—yeah, yeah, just a sec.”

With sloth-like movements, Jungkook grabs a pillow and a blanket from the bed and lays them on the floor, but before he can slip down onto the carpet you stop him, “woah, woah, woah. What’re you doing?”

“Uhhh, going to sleep?”

“On the floor? We’ve shared a bed before, doofus.”

“yeah, when we were like, nine.” Jungkook retorts. Please, God. Don’t do this to him.

You know it’ll be hell sharing a bed with him, but you’d feel like shit making him sleep on the floor. “What’re you afraid of, catching cooties? Come on, bun, it’s not a big deal.” It is a big deal. It is such a stupidly big deal.

Jungkook takes a moment to read your eyes, only a feeling a twinge of awkwardness. With reluctance, he moves the blanket and pillow back onto the bed and climbs in first. He can do this.

You climb in behind him, settling in quickly. His back is to you, thank God, but warmth is radiating from his body. You can’t do this.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Focus.

Focus on the patter of the rain outside. Focus on the whirring of the ceiling fan above. Focus on the softness of the sheets. Focus on the warmth of the blankets. Focus on the smell of the detergent. Focus on the smell of Jungkook’s shampoo.

Wait, no. Don’t focus on that.

Hell freezes over in the time it takes for you to get comfortable.

It feels like infinity has passed by as Jungkook lays deathly still. One movement and he’ll shatter. The bed feels smaller than it looks. The proximity is too much. He can hear your deep breaths, can feel them in how your back lightly hits his with every intake of air. His body feels like it’ll start vibrating. His chest feels like it might implode. His thoughts are spiraling. He just wants you.

Eyes. Closed. Mouth. Closed. Mind. A work in progress. Sheep, count sheep.

1…

2…

3…

Just fall asleep. Please. You tell yourself.

Closing your eyes, you count the seconds as they pass by into minutes. You’re on minute 28 when a haze finally begins to ease you. But some prick outside of your room drops something heavy and you hear them giggling and walking away. You hope they have a terrible night’s sleep. Even if they weren’t planning on sleeping anyway.

Being conscious again, it’s impossible to ignore it. You can’t take it. You can’t. His warmth, his smell. His smile, his laugh.

Him.

Something possesses you. Chest aching painfully, heart beating mercilessly.

You whisper.

“Jungkook,”

“Yeah?” He curses the waver in his voice as your body shifts around to face his back. It takes him a moment before he has enough courage to turn around.

Your eyes.

Your eyes are big and wide, you look scared and excited all at once. “Jungkook, I…”

What are you doing?

You must be insane.

Just forget it.

But there’s no going back.

Do it.

Just say it.

Say it.

Fucking say it.

You like—

No.

He gently reaches for your hand beneath the blanket. The mingling of your fingers calms your mind, eases your breathing. “Thanks,” a whisper is sent across the small distance that separates the two of you. “How do you feel about me?”

Jungkook stares. Huh? That’s all? He chuckles, “We’ve been friends since we were like, four. It’s a good bet that I like you.”

You blink. What an absolute dunce. “No, you stupid asshat, how do you feel about me?” All this courage makes your mouth keep moving, “I mean… I feel something, and sometimes it seems like you feel something too. Can you like, tell me if it’s just me?”

Jungkook’s eyes go wide, his warm hand slipping away.

Oh. You’ve made a huge mistake.

Or so you think before he’s crawling to hover over you, hands beside your head. “You like me?”

It’s your turn for your eyes to bulge, your face burning at the position, one that you’ve imagined at least a million times. Head turning away, you reiterate, “Unfortunately.”

His head falls to your shoulder, “Oh my god. Holy shit, oh my God. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this shit, holy fucking shit.” You patiently wait for his rambling to stop, but you’re confused now. He’s on top of you. This man is on top of you but hasn’t said anything about how he feels yet.

The only natural response is to flick his forehead, of course.

“Hey, ouch!”

You exaggerate the clearing of your throat, “’holy shit, I can’t believe this shit.’ Isn’t a super direct answer, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re mean?”

“Aww did I hurt you fee—” His lips touch yours softly, but it doesn’t last long enough before he falls back to his side of the bed.

“It’s not just you,” Your hands find each other again.

A thick silence rests over you, despite your staggering heart. You want him to kiss you again, desperately. You push yourself to ask, “kiss me again? Maybe longer this time?”

Jungkook obliges wordlessly, leaning over to press his lips against yours once more. It’s slow, cautious, unsure. Your body feels tense, making it difficult to feel excited. Not sure what to do, you pull him closer by his sweatshirt, forcing your bodies to touch.

It feels like he’s melting into you. His lips are still shaky, but he pushes forward, placing his hand on your hip as you wrap a leg over his body. Creating even less distance between you. There’s a heavy breath.

“Um… okay, pause.” Your eyes meet. He nods and his fingers brush through your hair, playing with it casually and awaiting your next request. In this wide expanse of time, the tingle of him playing with your hair lulls your mind and heart.

“Again?”

Third time’s the charm, right?

With less hesitance than before, Jungkook finds your lips again, keeping his hand buried in your hair. This time, it’s more comfortable, and your lips tingle. Unsure of what to do with yourself, your hands grip his sweatshirt even tighter, and you find it in yourself to lean in closer, breath quickening less from nerves and more from pleasure.

How many times had you thought of this? Each scenario being different, passionate and fiery. And yet of the hundreds of daydreams, none of them were accurate. Despite the underlying awkwardness, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

All thoughts drift away when Jungkook’s lips leave your own, and before you can protest, they fall upon your neck. Far more astonishing is when he drags you on top of him, changing your positions.

A quiet gasp escapes. Woah, woah woah, buddy.

But your surprise doesn’t stop him from dragging his lips to the other side of your neck. You feel your legs go numb. With his stupid lips on your neck still, he asks, “Is this okay?”

There’s a lot of fumbling in your brain before you can answer, “mhm… I’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Oh really? How much of it?” This stupid bitch.

“Shut up before you ruin it, just keep going.” You have no clue, but to Jungkook, the breathlessness in your voice feels like kryptonite.

Slipping a hand beneath your hoodie, you jolt at his touch. “How far do you want me to go?”

You squirm, “Um… I don’t know yet, is that okay?”

“Good, cuz’ I don’t know either. We can stop at any point.” Becoming impatient, you only give him a nod before you guide his hand to slip further into your hoodie. The trail of his touch his tingly, unpredictable, exciting. The gentle nature in the way he feels you causes your body to take on a mind of its own as your hips sink into Jungkook, forcing a groan from his lips. “Fuck, do that again.” You follow his instruction, and he lets out another noise of pleasure. It sends a spark coursing through you, leaning in to kiss him again. It’s messier this time, the caress of his hand on your skin making the simple task of breathing complicated. Your hips push down again, and the bulge you feel beneath you makes you gasp. In quick succession, Jungkook’s fingers brush over the tip of your breast, and to your utter shock a whine flows out of your lips. Your legs lose more strength, and you follow instinct. One hand slips beneath Jungkook’s shirt, and the jerk has the audacity to cup your breast in retaliation, dragging another whine out of you. Your head falls to his neck, partially because you feel like jelly, and partially because you want to leave a string of kisses to match what he so generously left on you prior.

With each kiss your hands keep exploring his torso and chest. If he can play dirty, so can you.

Or so you thought.

He pulls the neckline of your hoodie down to gain access to your collarbone before leaning up and licking a bold stripe from your clavicle up to your neck, dragging your body closer all the while. And when he latches on to the crook of your neck, sucking hard and meeting your hips as they subconsciously grind into him, you release a moan.

“There you go.”

You see through hazy vision the smirk on his face. Different from any that you’ve seen in your countless years of friendship.

He does it again, latching onto a spot along your collarbone and sucking, harsh but loving. Easing the sting with another swipe of his tongue.

The room is soon a quiet orchestra of heavy breaths and stifled groans, whines, and moans.

Time feels nonexistent.

“I think I want you to touch me, koo--”

“You think?”

You whine, “God, I don’t know—I just need more.”

He groans, “Fuck, babe.”

His hands securely grip your hips, and guide them to grind down onto him, hard. His sweatpants barely getting in the way.

You gasp at first, but as he keeps guiding your hips you let out a moan, louder than the one before. You cover your lips, not wanting to be heard by anyone outside.

“shit babe, please don’t be quiet, please—”

As the rhythm of your hips continue, you lean down, resting your head beside Jungkook’s ear, hoping that the muffle of the pillows will prevent anyone other than Jungkook hearing you. You let go, letting your moans flow, as his hips meet yours. Each sound you let out into his ear brings Jungkook closer to his breaking point.

“Keep going Koo, I’m close.” You whisper, and the sounds Jungkook lets out sound almost painful.

“Fuck, I love you.” He whines. And with barley another thrust of his hips, he comes undone beneath you. He keeps his grip on your hips, continuing to bring your hips down onto him.

You can barely manage “I love you too, Koo” before you find release.

The butterflies haven’t subsided yet. You’re clean and warm in bed again with Jungkook, hands and hearts intertwined. This time sleep feels more possible, but you can’t help but want to talk.

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“some of that felt awkward, right?”

“Well, I don’t think anything is more awkward than when we were forced to take a bath together when we were toddlers just cuz’ we got all muddy in the rain.”

You giggle as Jungkook pulls you in closer against his chest. “Yeah, sex ain’t shit compared to that.”

The warmth lulled you into a comfortable silence. You can’t remember the last time you felt this content, and you never want it to end. Every night this is what you want. Hands fit together loosely, blanket tangled between your bodies.

Jungkook will process with time that this is his new reality. His new reality in which you fall asleep in his arms, in which he can pull you closer, hold you tighter, and play with your fingers as he drifts off into a dreamland that couldn’t possibly match what he has with you. No one knows what the future holds, but Jungkook sure as hell hopes that you’re a part of it.

This shaggy love motel did more good than he thought it would.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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mjolnirswriststrap · 1 month

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SCARED

Neighbor!Bucky Barnes X F!Reader

Word Count: 2,519 ⭐️Masterlist⭐️

Summary: I loosely based this off of a real life event of mine, so if things don’t make sense, ask God 🤣🤣

Warnings: Agegap, neighbor!bucky, adultery, 18+ not quite smut but I don’t want childen reading anything I write 🤷🏻‍♀️ suggestive or not.

Spending the summer with your aunt wasnt something you planned for when school ended. It meant church every Sunday, and Wednesday night. It meant no wifi and being stranded in a strange town on the border of Georgia and Alabama.

You’d never been to Georgia and the possibility of driving to Florida to go to the beach was enough to convince you 5 weeks wasn’t that long. The 10 hour drive there lasted longer than the summer escape.

The first few weeks were exactly what you expected. Church, shopping, eating your aunts famous fried chicken livers, talking on the porch late into the night. On the third Sunday, after church, she informs you that you’re taking a trip to Alabama. Her grandson is coming to spend the week. You both needed to go pick him up from her daughter.

It took 4 hours to get there, napping made it feel like 30 minutes. Your aunt pulled up to a trailer park, and you scan your surroundings. You were even further in the middle of nowhere, then what you were at your aunts house. You always wanted to know the way out. But here, a 2 mile dirt road separates you from the highway you turned off of. You take notice of the neighbors, one had a pool out front, some older ladies floating on pool noodles waved at your aunt, they must know her. The neighbors on the other side of your cousins house weren’t so inviting.

You saw a toddler sitting in the dirt crying. Watching up at his parents flinging spit in each others faces. You avert your gaze when the man flicks his eyes over to you. You know men like that, they’re terrifying and unpredictable. He could walk over to you and start on you just for glancing in his direction. Your aunt ushers you into her daughters house, not wanting you to see the altercation.

You hadn’t seen your cousin since you were a little girl. Now she has a little boy. It was weird. Your family was so large, it was impossible to keep up with everyone. You had many cousins you hadn’t seen since Christmas of ‘06. After a ham sandwich and barbecue chips you were ready to leave, it was more boring here, and your cousin even had cable. You aunt must’ve noticed your boredom, offering a swim in her friends pool out front.

“But I didn’t bring a bathing suit?” You say grinning, knowing you’d go naked if it meant you could swim. “Just wear your bra and I’ll go ask the neighbor if she has some shorts that will fit you.” Your aunt says, swinging open the screen door. You nod your head, quickly braiding your hair to keep it out of your face. You almost lose your spot, twisting knots into your hair when the blonde woman from next door walks in, smiling. “Hey, your aunt said you needed some shorts?”.

You hop up from the couch. “Yes, thank you, I don’t know if we’re even close to the same size but what can it hurt to try?” You give her a soft smile. She looked like a wounded animal. She was way too nice to be getting yelled at like that. You wonder what set him off. But you know better than to ask. “Tanya, your kids crying.” You both look behind her to the open door. The dark haired man was standing there, looking thoroughly disgusted. When his eyes find you again, you have nowhere to hide. “Your aunt says you guys are staying the night.” He informs you, walking away. You furrow your eyebrows, why wouldn’t your aunt tell you that herself?

“She did, James needs a ride into town tomorrow and your aunt couldn’t say no.” She gives you a tight lipped smile. She knows a young girl would rather be spending her summer somewhere else. Once you squeezed into the shorts, you bolted to the pool, with a quick introduction to Sherry and Barb, sisters who owned the park. They were nice, asked you questions and treated you like family. Your aunt must really know them, you had no clue how.

Tanya and your aunt walked across the grass and climbed into the pool. Tanya tightly held onto a bottle of Budweiser, letting you know the night was already starting. You dunk your head, wanting to wash away the sweat from your forehead. When you resurface you see James stomping towards the pool, his shirt missing and motor oil smeared on his chest. “Drinking beer but not watching your kid I wish I could be surprised.” That’s when you notice a little boy in his hands, floaties tightly wrapped around his arms and body. He snatched the brown bottle from her hands, tossing the boy into the pool. “I got shit to do.” He walked away, finishing the beer and throwing the empty bottle to the ground.

After two more hours in the pool, your cousin came out looking for your aunt, leaving you alone with the Tanya and the baby. “Are you happy?” You finally ask, only because you’re truly alone with her. Her eyes well with tears, she shakes her head no. You move across the pool grabbing the boy you’d become acquainted with. You pulled yourself out of the water, not bothering to dry off, but you wrapped the boy in a towel. The sun was setting and it wasn’t warm enough for him to be out here wet. “I’ll be right back.” You give her a firm nod, carrying him in the direction of her house. She just watched helplessly as you turn the corner out of site.

Your heart started beating faster as you walked up to the trailer, knocking on the door. You try to think of what to say as you wait for him to open the door. You hear cursing from the other side before it’s swung open. He stands there for a minute, holding the door open before you realize he’s inviting you in. You step up, still holding onto the toddler. You don’t move from the doormat, afraid of tracking water through the house. “You can lay him down on the couch.” He says, pointing toward the corner of the room. You nod, padding your feet across the cold linoleum. You didn’t even notice the boy fell asleep in your arms, swimming always tuckers out kids. You straighten your back when you feel water droplets sliding down the inside of your thigh, pooling water at your feet.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even dry off before bringing him.” You look at the ground, wondering how you could fix the wet footprints that painted his floor. “I’m not.” He says but you barely catch it. “Huh?” You ask.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s just water honey.” You look up at him, not believing his sincerity. His blue eyes are piercing into yours. “Okay, well I better get back to the pool.” He watches you as you walk out of the door, he doesn’t make room for you to slip past him, causing you to turn your body towards him, he smelled good, you don’t know how. He was covered in black dirt from under the car, and sweat. He still wasn’t wearing a shirt and his tanned skin was so smooth, save for the happy trail growing up his stomach.

He was a lot older than you, more than 15 years, you’d guess. But you couldn’t tell standing this close to him. Your brain forces you out of the door. If you stood there in the tension for a second longer you don’t know what stupid thing would come out of your mouth. When you got back to the pool everyone had rejoined Tanya, even your aunt and cousin were drinking. You escape to your cousins house, changing back into your leggings and putting on your t-shirt. You check on your baby cousin, he’s sleeping in his room, not a worry in the world. You take the chance to spend a minute alone and turn on the tv.

You don’t even care to change the channel, SpongeBob played, lulling you to sleep. You’re awoken by your aunt, handing you the neighbor boy. “Will you watch him for a minute?” You just nod, and she’s out of the house. You peak through the curtain to see blue lights out front. Why are the cops here? You rock the boy to sleep, laying him down beside your cousin in his bed. When you walk outside everyone’s gone. The cops, your aunt, the neighbors. “What the hell.” You say out loud. You go knock on Sherrys door, hoping your aunt was there. But no one answered. Walking across the grass field someone caught your attention. It’s James, yelling at his trailer. “You don’t love me anyways, bitch.” He throws another beer bottle, this one smashes against the siding of the house. “I should’ve never fucked you and let you have my kid.” You stop in your tracks when he turns around, obviously drunk. “Hey.” He says, slowly walking towards you. “Are you okay?” You ask naïve as ever.

“I’m a good person, right?” He asks. You don’t know what to say, not wanting to tip him off that you were shitting your pants right now.

“Yes, you seem like a really good dad.” You’re trying to deescalate. “I am.” His voice is a little louder than it should be. “I don’t doubt it.” You’re still standing in the same spot, too afraid to move. “You’re nice.” He says, smiling widely. You give him one back, he hadn’t done anything to you yet, you weren’t going to give him a reason to.

It was no secret that you were nervous. Your breathing was fast and your eyes kept darting past him. “You don’t have to be scared. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He throws his hands in the air. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He says, stepping closer to you again. “Everyone hurts me. Treats me like I’m not worth anything.” He lets his head hang, and you start to feel guilt building inside of you, this man just needed someone to lean on. “I’m not worthless, right?” He looks up at you with tears in his eyes. You know he’s drunk, but this pain was real.

“You’re worth more than you know.” It was cliche, but a true blanket statement, no one knows their true worth. “Thank you.” He says, wiping his eyes. “I just need someone to hold me for once.” You felt that, you knew exactly what he meant. “Wanna hug?” You offer, knowing that sometimes that’s all people need, church the last three weeks had taught you that. Sometimes a smile and a handshake is all the human contact people get all week.

He just looks at you, expecting you to close the gap between you. So you do, you walk towards him, fear in the form of sweat, still dripping from you. You give him a warm smile as you lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his middle. His hands quickly found your hips, pulling you even closer to him. He squeezed you tightly, and you swear you hear him smell your hair. You try to pull away after an awkward silence falls over the two of you, but he won’t let you go.

“I’m sorry you’re going through stuff man, I am.” You say, patting his shoulder to tell him to let go. You feel his body go rigid against yours so you think he’s crying again. Drunk tears are never ending. “It’s okay.” You wrap your arms around him again, rubbing up and down his bare back. You try to pull away again, this time saying something “Don’t want Tanya to come out here and catch you hugging a stranger, probably best we let go now.”

His silence was a thousand words. Then he spoke, “You can’t do that.” He says lowly. You pull away and try to look at his face. “What are you talking about?” You ask, fear filling you again. He looks into your eyes, letting one of his hands slide down to the curve of your ass. You instantly put your hands on his chest and try to push him away. “You can’t be sweet to me and expect me not to like it.” His voice was different now, desperate. He presses his face into your neck, sloppily kissing up to your jaw.

Your heart is beating out of your chest now, and you stop fighting, not wanting to anger him. “You don’t want to cheat on your wife, you’re just drunk.” You try to break through to him. “You don’t know me.” He says, pulling you towards the back yard. “No I don’t, but you seem like a good man, don’t let a drunken mistake ruin what you’ve built for yourself.” You keep trying to persuade him.

“I wasn’t drunk earlier, when I watched you bend over in my living room, dripping wet. I wanted you then, just didn’t say anything.” He says, pressing you against your cousins house. He breathes in your face, and you smell more than beer on his breath, whiskey was pungently invading your nose. “So what? You like me or something?” You ask, confused on where this was going.

“Something like that.” He says, pressing his lips to yours. You’re shocked, you thought you were gonna be able to talk your way out of it. “This isn’t right.” You stop the kiss, nodding towards his trailer. You look between his eyes and try to find some common sense. “Then why does it feel right?” He grabs your hand, forcing you to cup the hard mass in his pants.

You gasp, you’d never felt one before, your virginity not up for debate, you’d never even had a boyfriend. “See, you like it too.” It’s like he’s trying to convince you. You look between him and the houses, searching for a witness. When you couldn’t find a soul, you stop fighting all together. He feels your body relax and takes it as permission to pull your leggings down. “Hey!” You say, but you guess it was too loud for his liking because he covers your mouth with his hand, looking you dead in the eye while his fingers push past your panties and dip inside of you. “You like being scared little girl?” He pulls his hand away from you, licking his fingers and tasting you.

Him reading you like a book was also a turn on. You stay silent, telling him everything he needs to know. He twist your body, pressing your face into the plastic. “Maybe you like it rough too, huh?” He slaps your bare ass, rubbing the raised red welt to soothe it.

You whimper, you’re going to let him have his way with you. If this was the only eventful thing that happens this summer, then what the hell. Tanya wasn’t happy and neither was he, who were you to interfere with destiny?

#avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #neighbor!bucky

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yaut-jaknowit · 1 month

Note

Male Yautja with Single Mom Human who got pregnant with Her Ex-Husband who Later Left Her and had Twin Sons and They Both Probably Calling Yautja "Dad" Even though They're not Biological But It's Still Family to Him (Sorry,If It's Not Suitable for Your Fics or/and Headcanons then That's Still Fine) also Will be Platonic at First Then Fluff Romantic,I Think?

Blood in the Water

Pairing: T'a'yta (male Yautja) x AFAB/Mother!Reader

Word Count: 5367

Summary: T’a’yta happens to be around and sees the struggle of this mother. He reveals himself and the mother grows uncertain about him and nearly attacks him. He takes no offense and offers to take her and her children to their home. From there, she offers T’a’yta a chance to swing by at a later time to her house to show her appreciation.

Author Note: Anything really goes with my stories. I write what the people want. I love doing that. I wasn't able to fully finish this to the end of your ask, I hope that's okay. It is about ten pages long so there is plenty to read! To be honest, I love this idea. Though there has been a lot of asks like this of late. What's going on guys?

Masterlist

Ao3

The worn engine sputtered and clunked. It gave one last screech before it fell silent. The forward momentum kept it rolling for a football field length before coming to a halt. Now dead in the water, you attempted to turn the key in hopes it would turn back over. It didn’t even give a cry at the try. You cursed under your breath and glanced in the rear-view mirror.

Two toddlers happily kicked their feet, entertained by the outside world of rolling plains. One of your sons, Shawn, whined when the movement of the hills were stopped. “Mama!” he called to you and pointed to the outside world.

“Yes, I know, baby boy. Mom’s gotta fix the car and we’ll be back on the road,” you answered and pulled your phone out to call for help.

At the top of the screen, it read no bars. You cursed to yourself again. A bad habit you needed to stop but have yet to do so.

The second son, the eldest by eighteen minutes, whined and shook his empty bottle in your direction. Simon looked at you with pleading eyes. You unbuckled and turned around in your seat. Both of your children were oblivious to what was happening. A simple road trip to see your folks on a surprise visit was going terribly wrong. Clearly.

It took you less than two minutes to fill up his sippy cup with more water to hold him over for now. You patted each child’s knee and gave them a look. “Okay, I need you two to be good. Mama’s going to get out and see what’s wrong with the car, okay?” Both of them looked at you with little thoughts between their innocent eyes.

With a sigh, you slipped out and popped the hood. Off the top of everything, you couldn’t see what was wrong to have this happen in the middle of the nowhere. Not a build or car in sight. Then your phone, no service to call for help. Anyone to drag your beat up car to a mechanic. It’ll cost you leg but at least your car would be working.

After your divorce with your husband, everything has gone downhill from there. The love you once saw in his eyes disappeared during the pregnancy… The man you once loved faded after you gave birth to his children.

He despised how big you grew, especially with twins. Let alone, yes, the mood swings and cravings. Pickles and peanut butter weren’t health but you needed to have them or you’ll start to cry. Not your proudest moment.

The stretch marks. He was absolutely disgusted with them and refused to touch you, even to help bathe when you couldn’t. You had just been spilt in half to birth two children he wanted and your own husband wouldn’t look at you. That hurt. A lot.

You leaned over the engine bay and sucked in your tears at the flashbacks when your life fell apart. You wouldn’t be stuck in this position if it wasn’t for him. It was all his fault.

Nothing flashed to easily fix the issue. You gave a sigh and returned to the drivers seat. All you needed was this day off to sleep in and relax. Except, the world continued to drag you to the deepest pits of hell to suffer.

In the mirror, you smiled with love sparkling in your eyes. Despite everything that has happened over a year ago, you wouldn’t trade the world for those two boys. They are your world, in all honesty. Both of your children went back to entertaining each other with the toys you’ve brought. Doing this for a year and half, you learn a thing or two.

This situation didn’t give you much for options. You looked around the car to see if that could help because you were truly clueless. If it was just you, you could start the long walk to find cell service. Yet with the twins in the back, all you could do was stay and hope for help. Hopefully help does come or you’ll be in deep trouble once night comes. Or the heat that’s starting to build up inside the car.

In a last-ditch attempt, you turned the keys for your car. As much as you wanted to hope for it to suddenly roar back to life, it stayed silent and dead where it had come to rest. Why did this have to happen to you, right here, in the middle of absolutely nowhere?

The driver side door was open to let in a breeze as you checked your phone again. Just the same reaction to your run-down car. Useless.

While the time ticked on by, your sons grew restless, strapped safely in the car. They whined to get out since the car had been stopped for some time. With no sign of rescue in sight, you slipped out of the car and got into the back seat. Both of them reached for you as you unbuckled them from their restraints.

Shawn was the first to be released and stood on weak legs. His twin brother came to his side and gazed out into the hilly plains that surrounded the three of you. Simon tightly clutched his cup as he wobbled away from you. A close eye was placed on the boy while he sought to explore his surroundings.

On the other hand, Shawn stayed at you lowered form and clutched to your hand. When his brother got to far from him though, he left your side to follow him.

All the hairs on back of your neck stood up. You straighten your spine and scanned the surrounding lands for any sight of a possible other person or animal. Yet, there was nothing to be seen this far out. Nor did anything move and catch your attention. The feeling refused to leave and stuck to you like cold honey.

As the feeling dragged on, your heartbeat increase with each passing second. You could hear it, thundering in your ears. You were already moving towards your two exploring children when you hear clicking. Instantly, you snatched your twin sons up and backed towards the car.

Your back hit met with warmth. Live warmth rather than the steel of a car. You spun around, hands occupied by holding Shawn and Simon at the same time. Nothing immediately caught your attention, and that made the dread brewing in your stomach to worsen. It burned you from the inside out as you tried to plan either an escape or to fight whatever threatened you.

When the light caught something in front of you, you truly peered at what could be blocking your path. You gasped and stumbled back, nearly tumbling over your own big feet. Something was standing in front of you, almost invisible to the naked eye. It was when you didn’t even know to look for it.

Tiny hands clutched at your clothing due to your reaction. Shawn was the first to bury his face into your chest to seek protection. Yet, Simon wiggled and squirmed in a way that made it hard to hold him. You couldn’t even look down to give him the famous mom stare to get him to stop it. “Simon, stop moving!” you ordered the eldest twin, but he didn’t take your tone seriously.

Before you could drop him, he slid down your side to the ground. You snatched his wrist before he could run off to gods knows where. The young boy struggled against your firm grip. “Simon, I swear!” But he refused to listen even when you sent the stare directly at him.

It hurt you to do this but this was a dangerous moment. You roughly tugged on Simon’s hand and dragged him away from the camouflaged creature before you. He screamed in frustration and started to hit your hand. “I am your mother! Listen to me, goddamnit.” At a later time, you would hold him close and apologize for your harshness. Yet, with an unknown threat hanging before your sons, you acted in instinct to protect them.

Simon glared his own tiny daggers at you and clawed at your tight grasp. A bruise could appear later but right now, when you didn’t know was standing in front of you. There were a lot more important things to fret about than a bruise.

Like from a comic book or sci-fi movie, a humanoid form waxed into appearance. All the muscles that lined your back tensed. A cold dread entered your fiery veins and froze you to the spot. Simon was able to escape ran up. You stared in terror and gripped onto Shawn, unable to react in time.

The figure sat down on its haunches, still a towering form, and tilted its head at the bouncing child. His exploration side flaring its head at the worst time possible.

Your heart thundered in your ears, roaring like a storm brewing in the middle of the sea. Simon reached it on wobbly legs and flopped onto the thick thighs of this ‘person’. You couldn’t tell what it was.

A metal mask covered its facial features, leaving you blind to what laid behind. Primitive armor of sorts covered the most important parts of a human. Relatively close to a fishnet like wire covered its body starting from the neck and down to its legs. It was ripped in some areas, clearly used and worn. Worn for what? And… and why was it wear stripper clothing?

Out of your children, Simon had to be the people person. He hugged onto this things leg like a lifeline and giggled his cute little laugh. Any other situation, you would’ve smiled at him and laughed alongside him. You clutched Shawn tighter to your side and watched with bated breath for this thing to do something.

The masked person reached out and offered a massive, scaly hand to Simon. The young child ‘oo’ed at the sight, immediately drawn to the different skin texture than his own.

Shawn began to squirm in your hold. You whipped your head to gaze at him. He made grabby hands towards his twin brother and the humanoid creature. The hairs along your arms bristled. “Absolutely not!” you scolded and returned your gaze on the two.

The incredible size difference didn’t seem to effect this being. Instead, it looked like they took it into great consideration and was soft with the way it moved towards him. Simon latched onto the offered limb and brought it up to his face for a close examination. With a bout of excitement, he spun around and thrusted the hand into the air. “Mommy look!” he cheered as if he had found gold.

A great amount of weight lifted off of your shoulders. You nervously laughed with an unsure smile. “That’s great honey. Now, come over here, please,” you demanded rather than ask Simon to listen to you for this once. Yes, it seemed like the thing humanoid wouldn’t hurt a hair on Simon. You refused to let your guard down for one millisecond. Life lessons and all that fun stuff.

Simon started to pull on the hand, tipped with short yet lethal claws. Talons that could gut you or your children if you did one wrong move.

What had you gotten yourself into? A day vacation turning worse with every passing second.

You watched with a fragile gaze, on the verge of breaking if it moved for an attack. Parental instinct and all that would damn you in this situation. If this creature turned, you couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Not with the way it held itself. Not pride… no. But with an air that consisted that it knew what it was doing.

It followed after Simon, letting him guide it over to you. The entire time, hunched over to allow constant contact with the older twin. Simon stopped in front of you and offered the hand to you; to check it out yourself. “No… no honey,” you refused and shook your head kindly. “I’m all good. I-I can see.” You cursed the slip up stutter in your words. Not like it couldn’t read the terror shining in your eyes, or the realization this creature could kill you at any second.

“Mama, take. Look.” Stubborn as a mule, a trait the two of them got from both of their parents. Shawn squirmed in your hold again and finally slipped down. On his feet, he stepped up to the masked figure and wrapped his arms around one of its legs.

Then, a glint entered Simon’s innocent eyes. The older one latched onto the other leg and looked up at the imposing figure who stood at least a good head taller, if not two.

“Kids,” you called to them but didn’t gain their attention. “Simon, Shawn. Let go. We… we need to get going.”

“Mister, what you are?” Shawn asked and tugged on a long piece of cloth tied to the waistband of the figure’s pants. You were growing frustrated at the lack of obedience in such a dire situation from your children. If you were to survive this, you were going to have a long sit-down with them and ensure they knew the consequences of not listening. Especially when their life could be in danger.

Worst of all, you couldn’t even plan a way to attack this lumbering giant. The thing was massive not just in height but in stature as well. The barrel chest, large muscles that adorned its arms and legs. You didn’t dare even take a step towards it. Not when it could see you as a threat and leave you a bloodied mess for your sons to witness.

“You better listen to your dam,” a voice that easily matched the body spoke in a tone that left little room for arguing. Yet, it wasn’t to threaten or cause any issues with you. Not, he seemed to be attempting to help you in this situation. Then, he tilted his head up and looked at you with emotionless dark pits. “I’m not going to harm them.”

As much as you prayed for those words to be completely truthful without doubt, you still kept your guard up.

“But, I know how dams can be. Protective over their littles.” The more it spoke, the more you realized it wasn’t an average person’s voice you were hearing. It sounded a bit gruff, rough around the edges, as if it wasn’t a language he was meant to speak. He rose his arms in surrender and offered his palms towards you. “I extend a helping hand instead to show I do not have intentions of harm towards your family unit.”

You straightened yourself and set a glare on the masked beast. “Who and what are you?” you demanded and possibly pushed your luck with his declaration earlier. Before you can offer him a single once of your trust, he must be willing to fork over ten times of yours worth.

He settled back down on his haunches and allowed for you to take the tallest title for the time being. Simon and Shawn were forced to move and practically thrown themselves onto his thighs. “What are you?!” Shawn interrogated their newfound friend. Worse than the monster friend in their closet that freaks you out every time they talk about it.

He’s able to pull himself onto one of the beast’s thighs with his help. Shawn sits unsteadily and pointed at the metal mask adorning his strange friend’s face.

The entire time the creature interacts with your children; the way he’s extremely gentle, slow movements; the way he gets down to their level; the way he doesn’t mind them climbing on him… he must be a father himself or knows great patience. You only let your shoulders slack a centimeter.

Still on his haunches, he tilted his head up slightly to gaze at you once more. Without saying a word, his hands come to the mask and go through a worn routine of disengaging it. Muscle memory detached the metal from his face.

Your head jerked back yet you didn’t make a sound. That wasn’t what you were expecting. Then, you blinked a few times. This thing wasn’t anything on earth. No, not with the way if just appeared out of thin air and the facial structures. “You’re an alien, aren’t you?” you questioned, breaking the quiet air that filled the space.

What you believed to be an alien smirk graced his features. One of his strange four fangs rose into a grin. A knowing glint entered his baby blue eyes. “A smart dam,” he mused and bowed his head in a slow motion. “Yes, you caught me. I am an alien in your terms.”

“Alien?” Simon questioned and turned his head to look at you. “Mama, what is alien?” On the other leg, Shawn had spun around with the careful guide of the creature and leaned into his torso.

“An alien is a species that comes from space, not native to our planet,” you explained, hopeful the terms were small enough for either of them to understand. Then, you returned a hardened gaze the alien. “Do you have a name?” Again, you wanted to know what was possible before even entertaining the idea of accepting whatever help he thought was right for the situation.

He lifted his head back up. “T’a’yta and yours?” he returned the gesture in full warmth. The longer he talked with you, the more you grew to be lax around him. Not by much but enough to loosen the tension growing in your muscles.

It was soft on your lips, your name. He tested it on his alien tongue then gave each child a gentle shove off. They whined but were given no choice besides off. Shawn came back to your side and held onto your leg in the same manner he did to T’a’yta.

“And what is this help you offered in the beginning?” you asked afterwards. The cedar-colored alien returned to his full height but a respectful distance away from you.

His head turned towards the crappy car that had started all of this. “I see your mode of transportation has failed you. I have one of my own. I couldn’t bare to turn a blind eye to a dam in trouble. I would like to offer you a ride back to your home,” T’a’yta explained and glanced over your shoulder.

Your expression softened at his confession, eyes flickering down at your children. They had to be getting hungry. The snacks you brought probably won’t last longer than an hour. There was night as well. Darkness would soon swallow you and your family up… and you didn’t know how long it would be before help arrived.

Despite him not showing any signs of harm, you still eyed the creature with suspicion. “And what do you want in return?” you retorted and gave him a hardened stare. You had found aliens exist yet you didn’t know if this one was completely friendly. Who knows what it might do to you if you put your guard down?

T’a’yta snorted and shook his bowed head. “I do not want anything as payment. I’m not doing this to except something in return.” A person with years of patience built under his belt. He didn’t act offended by your question and simply answered it. He didn’t give you any reasons for doubt. “If you wish not for my help, then I accept that. But I will not leave until you and your little ones are safe.”

If only your ex-husband was as thoughtful as a random alien willing to protect you out of nowhere.

The decision came quick to you. You nodded your head towards T’a’yta. “Alright. I’ll accept your offer… Thank you.” T’a’yta smiled at you then motioned his hand for you to turn around. You quirked a brow before slowly listening to him and spinning on your heel. The alien moved around you, your children in tow as they followed the coolest thing they’ll ever see in their lives. You smiled to yourself at the sight shadowed after T’a’yta.

He led you about a hundred yards from the road before coming to a stop. Confused, you paused as well and waited for him to reveal why he had taken you this far from the road.

Unease boiled in your stomach. You eyed the alien with a weary eye all over again yet kept your trap shut in case something you said could turn him.

One hand pressed two buttons on his metal gauntlet. In a similar fashion of how he waxed into existence, a spaceship appeared before your very eyes. This was very Stars Wars like. Your jaw dropped as you stared upon this craft and alienness it had.

A hiss sounded from the metal ship before a ramp began to lower from the belly. It felt like you had been transported into some sci-fi movie.

You were pulled from your shock by a tug on your leg. Shawn stood at your feet and put his arms up for you lift him. Muscle memory had you bending down and scooping him off of the ground. He looped his arms around your neck then looked over at T’a’yta. You walked over to the alien and stood shoulder to bicep with him. “I can’t believe aliens are real,” you whispered the confession.

T’a’yta snorted and shook his head. The weird rubbery, round bands that hung from his domed head snaked with the movement. Metal trinkets adorned the dreads and clinked against one another. “Oomans and their lack of thoughts. Aliens have always existed. There’s always something out there in the big, expansive universe. Not even I know what all lies out there and I’m over five hundred years old in ooman years.” As he spoke all of this, he began to stroll over to the ramp and leading the group. You followed along, hooked into everything all despite the possible danger.

At his last few words, you stopped mid-step with a bewildered expression falling upon your features. “Five hundred?! Five hundred?” you sputtered and blinked a few times to comprehend all of this. Not that you knew what an old whatever his species is looked like, he didn’t even act like someone even hitting thirty.

“Again: lack of thoughts. You will never be alone out there. Life finds a way.” He reached the top of the ramp and motioned for you to keep up. Even Simon was able to run after him with that cute little toddler run and looked back at you.

“Stop being slow, mama. Keep up!” Simon scolded with a childish scowl and held onto T’a’yta’s leg. The cedar brown alien bent at the waist and patted the top of your son’s head.

Simon let a grin spread across his face and leaned up into the affection. You sighed and strolled up the ramp after them.

The new sight of the inside of an alien spaceship washed over you. Yet, it was surprisingly subtle in here. There was detail in here but mostly simple designs. Just a vehicle for transportation or something who didn’t need much to be happy.

Once you had entered along with them, T’a’yta pressed the same two buttons again. The ramp hissed again and began to close. T’a’yta motioned with a jerk of his head to follow after him and started to walk further into the ship. You took a deep breath and listened to him with just a hint of apprehension in the moment. The door to the outside world was now closed, locking you in here with him.

Through three doors, he took you to what had to be the cockpit of his ship. Out in the distance, was a tiny white dot on the road. Your car.

“I would advise you to take a seat during takeoff,” T’a’yta expressed and sat down on a seat that easily fit his larger complex. His hands moved with muscle memory as they went over the console, typing and pressing the proper buttons. You listened to the engines fire up underneath your feet before stepping up to a chair that you knew would swallow you up.

You sat down and held Shawn close to you. Simon was still at T’a’yta’s feet and held onto his knee. With a sigh, you patted your leg. “Simon, come here,” you called to your other son.

T’a’yta easily scooped the child off of the ground and held him in one arm close to him. “It’s alright. You’ve got your hands full with the one. I can watch over this one.”

At first, you apprehensive about letting him hold Simon. Yet, you pushed down the helicopter mom instinct inside of you and slowed your heart down.

The ship rumbled while T’a’yta added power to the engines. They started to lift the vessel off of the ground and further into the air. You gripped onto the chair and held Shawn close. Being in a plane was completely different than this. You held your breath, tense as you felt the craft lift off even more.

“Now, where to?” he questioned with an ease voice, soothe. Your eyes cracked open without realizing they had been shut and glanced over at him. T’a’yta cradled Simon close to him while letting the child have room to wiggle if he so pleases.

An address tumbled out of your lips. T’a’yta let his fingers glide across a screen and hit enter. His hand fell away from the controls. The giant alien swiveled around in his chair to face you.

“In all my years, I’ve never once crashed any of my ships. I promise you with my heart you and your offspring are safe in my hands.” His words helped ease a little tension sitting on your shoulders. “You are free to move about as well. Take-off can be a little unpredictable in some cases.”

He easily picked up Simon and set him back on ship’s floor. Said child began to explore his newfound surroundings with vigor. To ease the tension settling in your bones, you nervously smiled at T’a’yta. “You know, Simon is a huge explorer. He’s gonna find something he shouldn’t probably be in.”

Two of his upper mandibles quirked up. “Sounds like me when I was kid and I turned out fine,” he jestered and motioned towards himself. You huffed through your nose. The alien was scared and armored, ready to take on an army at a moment’s notice. Now, that you were thinking about. He probably could take on the army.

Shawn shifted and slid off of his lap. “And there goes Shawn. Wherever Simon goes, Shawn loves to follow him,” you said to the quiet air and watched as the two went over to the controls.

Even to you, the controls sat higher than you thought was comfortable to use. You knew they wouldn’t be able to reach them.

“They are twins, yes?” T’a’yta asked and leaned back in his chair, lax in his position. From the corner of your eyes, you glanced at him. Despite the terrifying creature he looked like, he showed nothing but peace. You reclined in your chair and brought your legs to sit comfortably in the large seat.

The ship lightly shuttered at the touch down. Both of your kids whined but otherwise stayed silent in your arms. T’a’yta moved from his seat and stalked over to your seat. With a tired look in your eyes, you looked up at him and gave a weak smile at him. The days events had dragged away what energy you had left. T’a’yta nearly talked you into sleep. Your sons have already dozed off at least an hour ago.

His towering form stood before you. “I can carry them for you,” he offered in a voice no louder than a breath. The smile only grew on your features. You timidly nodded your head. T’a’yta easily scooped both of them out of your lap and cradled them close to him. A move only an experienced father would know and be able to do after so many times.

You untucked yourself from the seat and stood up, arms stretched high above your head. Little thought was given to follow the large mass as he moved through his own ship. He kept a pace you would be able to shadow easily in your tired state.

In all of its run-down glory, your apartment complex greeted you. With a sigh, you pulled your keys from your pocket and found the proper key. This time, you guided T’a’yta to the third level and towards a door you’ve grown to learn after a year and half of living here. You kept an eye on the alien’s gaze but it didn’t change one bit. Either, he was amazing at steeling his expressions or he truly didn’t judge the conditions of your living. It was the best you could supply on one income.

The inside of your apartment hadn’t changed one bit over the course of twenty four hours. You breathed in its familiar scent, relieved to be home. You glanced back at T’a’yta who had to duck to enter your dwelling. Both of your sons are still cradled in each of his arms. A soft smile was brought to your face at the sight. You walked over to their shared room. “Over here,” you whispered into the silent air.

T’a’yta entered and set both children down in a bed. It didn’t matter which one. The two of you exited the bedroom for the living room and sealed the door behind you.

With just him in your presence, you could feel a little more at ease. You didn’t need to worry about your children getting harmed in anyway around him.

“Thank you… for everything. I’d still be out there right now,” you voice your appreciation to the alien. T’a’yta stood a respectful distance away from you and yours bedroom door.

He bowed his head. “I’m glad to be of assistance.”

Now, a silence fell over the two of you. You gnawed on your bottom lip, words on the tip of your tongue. When he dipped his head and went to turn away, you sprung forward and gripped his arm. His skin was warm the touch and rough underneath you softer fingertips. Instantly, you jerked your hand away, hoping you hadn’t offended him.

“Do-don’t go… I-“ you cleared your throat and had to look away when he turned to you. “I would like to offer you a chance for dinner. As a thank you. I would cook you dinner. Or-or, you’re more than welcome to come back at, at anytime.” You were on the verge of face palming at your stupidity and nonsense you sputtered to him.

The alien chuckled, shoulders jumping with the sound. “I told you. There is no need for repayment. I did this out of the kindness of my heart.” You gave him a pleading look. You didn’t want this to be the last time you saw him.

“I know this. Please, just entertain my stupid idea.” T’a’yta looked at you for a long time before shrugging. Your face brightened with a smile, toothy and all.

“Alright. I shall return into three days. Is that enough time for you to plan this dinner?” he questioned.

You rapidly nodded your head. “Plenty. Thank you, thank you. Again. I-I just want to ease my consciousness. I wouldn’t be able to sleep peacefully knowing I’d done anything to thank you.”

“Of course. I will see you in three days’ time.” T’a’yta took his leave then. The door softly clicked behind his retreating form.

A new silence engulfed you. You turned around and faced the door your children were in. They were safe because of T’a’yta. An alien. He was nice. Much nicer than a lot of folks you’ve met and he was an alien. An alien who looked like he could crush your skull with two fingers. You took a deep breath in before heading to your own room. It had been a long day.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #predator x reader #alien vs predator #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #T'a'yta

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sopiao · 9 months

Note

can i request headcannons with the 141 and konig during a road trip? like a looong ass road-trip. nothing for a mission, just a little trip or vacation.

ooh i just got back from a 10 hour long road trip too!

(Callsign will be ‘Shark’)

Price would be the one driving, Soap in the front, Shark, Ghost, and Gaz in the middle row, while König gets the back all to himself. Sometimes it would cycle who would be in the front with Price since they all wanted to take turns sleep.

Since König is the big bitch he is, he gets the whole back row to himself. He can ‘shooonk’ and ‘mi mi mi mi mi’ all he wants. With his pillow and pink jaguar blanket someone lent him cause he forgot his (most likely Soap’s). While Shark is stuck in the middle, stuck between Ghost and Gaz.

—

Price would have first dibs on the aux since he’s the driver. He’d only play songs that no one knows. Y’know the classics and his personal faves. No one gave him the aux since.

Soap would play songs that he likes, regardless of what anyone else thinks. ‘Shut up and drive’ by Rihanna, ‘Talk dirty’ by Jason Derulo, ‘Treasure’ by Bruno Mars. Will literally blast the volume at his favorite parts.

Occasionally Ghost or Gaz would yell at him to shut up, his only response being to turn the music up even louder.

—

“I’ve got to go to the loo..” Soap asked. Price gripping the wheel and taking an audible and long breath in and out through the nose.

“We just left THE FUCKING STOP”

—

During stops to restock on gas stations snacks or fill up on gas Gaz would get drinks he never finishes, it just piles up in the back. Shark got a bag of chocolate marshmallows, they later played basketball with it, Ghost’s mouth being the hoop.

Price would 100% do the dad-snack-hand from the drivers seat. While König got a whole tub of ice cream to eat in the back, just because he felt like it.

Soap actually got left at a gas station once. The car ride back to get him was quite.

—

Shark’s gasp made everyone turn to attention since it was so quite and their gasp sounded so alarmed. Shark leapt across Gaz’s laps and looked out the window.

“Cow!” They pointed out towards the field of cows minding their business.

“Cow?

“Woooaaah”

“COW”

—

König gets motion sickness very easily. Which is why he spends 60% of the car ride sleeping. But the times where he is awake, half the time he’s throwing up in a paper bag. Ghost having to throw it out while Gaz and Soap try not to gag. Shark is rubbing him on the back and giving him water to feel better :).

—

Gaz would sleep against the car door, a pillow between him and the door, one leg would be across Ghost and Shark’s lap and the other would be on the middle console of the front. Sometimes Soap would have to nudge his dinosaur socks out of the way.

Ghost would claim he’s not tired at all, but is always the first one to fall asleep. Arms crossed and head back while he snores like a motor boat. First time this happened Price freaked out that he was dying, choking or something, and had Shark punch him in the chest.

He didn’t feel like sleeping after that.

Eventually when he does he’d be in the same position as Gaz, but both of his legs would be across Sharks and Gaz’s lap. Hitting the opposite door.

—

“Would you rather fight 100 toddlers or—” Shark asked of the first thing that came to mind.

“A hundred toddlers” Soap interrupted them, no hesitation.

“I didn’t even finish the question—”

“Those kids are getting CURB STOMPED”

“No—”

—

Going down a long path in the middle of the night. Practically in the middle of nowhere as the only thing keeping them company was yards of grass and mice that hid in little holes for the night. Everyone was fast asleep until they felt the car shift to a stop. They all immediately looked at each other after seeing where they were stopped.

“Let’s stretch our legs, been a while” Price explained, being the first to get out, turning the car off and the key out of the ignition. They were all still confused why they stopped suddenly, but they understood that hours of driving does no good for the legs.

Price made sure to turn the head lights off too. The rest of them thought that they’d just but in the middle of nowhere in the dark but they were frozen in amazement when they saw how bright the sky is, despite it being 12 midnight.

Without all the city lights and street lights to pollute the sky the night looked so bright. Stars that were barely visible, only a dot in the sky, were now shining and bright. In the city you could only see 6-7 stars 10 if your lucky, but right now it was like you could see till the end of the galaxy.

Not a word was spoken the entire time they were out. It was beautiful but also so surreal and bone chilling seeing how much space there is beyond this world. Every star a sun and every sun had at least 5 planets. There had to be at least one other life form.

Those 20 minutes were the most quiet but calming 20 minutes of the trip. Something they shared and saw together.

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milkibabe · 11 months

Text

♥ family camping trip w/ stan (headcanons) ♥

✢ summary: headcanons on going on a camping trip with Stan’s family

✢ warnings: nsfw

Stan HCs

𝒮𝐹𝒲

It was of course Randy’s idea to bring you along, Stan didn’t want to subject you to his family for a week.

He was glad you came anyways since he loved having you around.

“Bring your earbuds, you’ll need them in the car"

You and Stan of course shared a tent together.

Stan was a pro at putting the tent together since he had gone camping with his family since he was a toddler.

Stan literally wakes up the latest out of everybody.

You would always get up early to start making breakfast with Sharon.

Stan unzips the tent and comes out with his black hair all messy and rubs his sleepy eyes.

“That smells amazing babe”

Stan sleepily holds your waist and rests his chin on your head while you prepare breakfast on the little propane stove.

Randy says cheesy dad stuff like “ah, young love” and “to be a teenager again”.

Stan always rolls his eyes at his dad being cringe, but you find it endearing.

Sharon always tries to make sure you’re eating enough.

Shelley was forced to go with, but you and her get along well enough.

Stan LOVES documenting everything you guys do with photos.

You’ll just be cozy in your pajamas, wrapped in a blanket, roasting marshmallows when he whips out his phone to take cute pics of you.

He’s totally posting a photo dump of you two on his insta when he gets back home (and has wifi).

Asks you to go on hikes with him away from his family when they become a little suffocating.

“Are your feet tired? I can carry you on my back.”

You two go on the most romantic midnight stroll by the lake and stare at the pretty stars.

He’ll let you sit on his lap while you two listen to music in the dark.

While you two are sitting and taking in the view he wraps his arms tightly around you.

“Look at the sky tonight— all of the stars have a reason”

𝓝𝓢𝓕𝓦

Stan’s a fucking fiend for risky sex, so this camping trip is his time to shine.

Purposely told you to sit way in the back of the car during the road trip so he could finger you under his blanket when he got bored.

He was so eager to fuck you he told his parents “we’re heading to bed early, its been a long day” on the first night.

It was like 8pm...

As soon as you zipped the tent closed Stan’s hands were already roaming your body.

“Fuck, your ass looks so fucking good in those shorts”

Wanted to give your ass a loud slap but his parents were literally 40 feet away outside the tent.

Opted to biting and marking up your body instead.

As soon as you got a little too vocal he’d grab your jaw with his hand and hush you.

“Do you want my parents to know just how much of a slut you are for me?”

You’d of course shake your head no, which would make him give you a quiet chuckle.

“Then be a good girl and be quiet for me.”

He says that but would go right back to making it impossible to stay quiet.

It’s almost as if he likes making your life harder than it needs to be.

Slides his fingers inside of you and fingers you, just slow enough for you to always be on the edge.

You beg for him to let you cum in the quietest voice you can muster.

“Be patient princess, as soon as they all go to sleep I’ll give you what you want.”

His parents go to bed finally and after a while Stan finally withdraws his fingers from you.

You whimper desperately but become excited when you hear him shuffling out of his boxers.

With no hesitation he thrusts into your needy, wet pussy.

He’s on top of you, clamping your mouth shut to keep you quiet.

Tears start to spill from your eyes as they roll into the back of your head.

“Mmm, fuck, your so fucking tight for me. Squeezing me like a good little slut.”

That was enough to send you finally over the edge as you release the tension within your body into a heavenly orgasm.

Stan cums inside you soon after that, painting your walls with his seed.

Stan rolls over, sweaty and out of breath.

You were tired and satisfied, drifting off to sleep when you hear him softly say something.

“Oh princess... we aren’t done yet”

Welp... you are not getting any sleep tonight.

#south park x reader #stan x reader #stan marsh x reader #south park #stan x reader smut #south park hcs #south park fanfiction #stan marsh

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ladylooch · 5 months

Text

Nico's Best Girl - [Nico Hischier]

A/N: It has been a hot minute since I wrote Nico Smut.. or at least it feels like it? But the people spoke, and they were desperate for Nico and some spanking 🤭 So let me introduce you to Nasty Nico and all the things he does to his beautiful wife on the occasions he comes out.

Word Count: 2.1k

Read more Lexi and Nico Here.

Nico Hischier is so far in my dog house, he can’t even see our house anymore.

This is a rare occurrence between the two of us, but I’m livid. Seething. Visualizing myself smothering him with a pillow.

Why?

Because he walked into our daughter’s room after his latest road trip and woke her up, then fell asleep next to me. So now, I’m the one up at 5 am in the living room, watching god awful toddler TV and sucking down my second cold brew of the day. Huge bags are under my eyes, purple and blue, for the three hours of sleep I managed to get.

It’s well into the late morning when Nico emerges from our bedroom. I’m still mad, but at least Lucie is taking a nap. My shoulders tighten when he leans down to kiss my head next to my dilapidated bun. He stays there for a moment, breathing in the smell of me after being gone for so long.

“Good morning.”

“Mmm is it?” I mutter back as I stand. I begin gathering some of Lucie’s toys, starting by putting one of the puzzles back into its home.

“I think so?” Nico wonders. “I am so tired. I might need a nap later.” He says through a huge yawn. I look up at him, scowling at the back of his head. “Where is LuLu?” He asks, scratching at the hairs on his chest.

“Sleeping.”

“Aww.. I wanted her to nap with me later.” A disgruntled pucker hits his lips. Nico goes to the fridge, pulling out orange juice and pouring himself a glass. I watch him, standing still and flabbergasted in the living room at his lack of attention. He turns back to make eye contact with me as he drinks. “Hm?” He asks between slurps, bushy eyebrows raising in question at me.

“If you ever do what you did last night again, I am going to blow an airhorn in your ear.” Nico pauses from drinking. He seems to take me in more, then grimaces.

“I’m sorry.”

“You think, Nico?” I question, shrugging my shoulders with attitude. He cringes and brings a defensive hand up.

“I’ll make it up to you.” I start grabbing the couch pillows Lucie threw on the floor, tossing them back into their places. I reach for the knitted throw blanket next, beginning to fold it back aggressively. “I missed her so much. I didn’t want to wait until morning to give her a hug.”

“Well, now I’m missing the five hours of sleep I need to function.” I toss the blanket back onto the ottoman, adjusting the ends so it drapes over the side the way I like.

Nico watches silently from the kitchen while I stalk around the living room, trying to repair the disaster of our living room. My displeasure is obvious. Whenever I glance at him, I can see Nico’s mind calculating which fix he needs to pull out to move us forward.

“Lex.” Nico’s quiet call reaches where I am tucking her Lightning McQueen ride-on toy by the side of the couch. I look up at him and startle. He decided the fix is sexual. “You need me to wake you up?” His voice is husky, gone is the rough coating of sleep, replaced by the burning desire. It’s a reminder of how long that road trip really was- almost two weeks without each other, filled with FaceTime calls that barely grazed over the itch.

“Not sure you can, cap.” I quip back. Nico’s chuckle is low, accepting of my challenge. He pushes off from the kitchen counter. I bite back the desperate whimper in my throat at the sight of his hard cock straining his black pants. My lips part as he stops by the couch. He gestures for me to get on it. My cheeks are pink, eyes wild, chest fluttering as I take slow, teasing steps.

“The longer you take to get over here, the more angry I’m getting… the harder your lesson will be.” My green eyes sparkle. A slight smirk pulls one side of Nico’s lips up, reminding me he is still there even as Nasty Nico is beginning to take over his body. Nasty Nico doesn’t like when I’m an ungrateful brat. Or when I whine at how hard he fucks me, or pulls my hair, or shoves his fingers into my mouth. He demands for me to be a good girl, his best girl, while I take him so well.

My folds are slick as I come to stand next to him. His hands reach for my big t-shirt- an old one of his he won’t wear anymore, from a playoff series that didn’t result in a cup. The old fabric teases my nipples when his fingers work it over my head. His thumbs come up, probing the puckered skin until I sigh. Nico kisses along my cheek until he gets to my ear. He tugs the lobe with his teeth, then continues with his lips down my throat.

He lowers himself to the couch. Then he grabs my fingers, tugging me to bend down so he can suck a nipple into his mouth. I grip the back of his head, working to straddle his lap. Nico’s hand wraps around my waist, releasing my nipple. He jerks me forward, pinning me down to his side with my ass in the air. The harsh vibration of skin hitting rips through our living room. I moan, savoring the feel of my ass cheek tingling beneath his hand. His palm rubs over the area, then he digs his fingers in to heartily grip the muscle.

“That what you want baby, hm? You frustrated with me?”

“Yeah, asshole.” I sigh.

SLAP!

“Oh.” I moan.

“Keep it up.” His tone is searing. He pins me down harder, gripping the waistband of my leggings. I turn my face out of the couch cushion, unable to see him, but the coolness of the room strokes against my wet, pulsing heat.

His finger prints bleed into my ass, then pull apart my cheeks to hear the crudeness of my wet folds splitting open from his force. Despite his profession, Nico’s hands are relatively soft, no callous or hard points, so the smoothness of his palms over my bare ass have me closing my eyes. It’s a hard distinction, between how good his skin feels on me and how hard his next slap is. I jolt, screwing my eyes tightly shut. Those same fingers get soft again, going to explore my folds. He gathers my wetness on his fingers, then slides his middle finger into my entrance. I’m more than ready and pulse my muscles around him.

“Mmm, greedy girl today.” He stuffs another finger inside, fucking me hard with them as I try to press my hips back into his hand. His thumb rolls over my clit.

“Cap.” I groan, “want your cock.” My hips buck back, finding enough momentum to thrust his fingers deeper into me. Nico steadies me for a moment, curling his fingers up, rolling them over the velvet spot inside of me. I quiver around his appendages.

“You can have my cock when you cum.”

Everything gets wetter at his dirty words. Nico's free hand finds my nipple, rolling it between three of his fingers as he fucks me with his hand. I moan, wiggling under his pin and bucking my hips again. Nico lets me this time, groaning as I take over. The distinct slurp of wetness from each rock into him has Nico cooing encouragement to me.

“You looks so sexy right now.” He praises me.

I moan loudly, then cum. Nico takes over, gently riding me through the orgasm. He pulls his fingers out, releasing me from my position and letting my knees straddle him upright again. I grab his wrist and before he can even demand, I wrap my mouth around his middle finger. The sweet, tanginess of myself explodes in my mouth. Nico’s pupils blow wider at the sight, mouth dropping ajar. I close my eyes and hum. His breathy moan dances across my face.

“I taste so good for you. Only you.” I confess after finishing his ring finger.

“Mine. Forever.” He grabs the back of my neck to pull me in for a hot, wet kiss. We moan into each others mouthes. Nico helps me work my pants the rest of the way off. Then he drops his sweatpants and underwear to the floor. I watch, intoxicated, as his thighs tighten while stepping out of them. Fuck, I want those thighs slamming into the back of mine.

“Hard, Nico.” I request as he strokes his cock in front of me. The tip of him is swollenly pink, oozing already. “So hard.” I moan as he puts that same head against my clit. He slaps it there. I bruise my bottom lip with my teeth. Another small whimper pushes out. Nico smirks, slapping my clit again. A bead of his pre-cum sticks there, creating a thin line of connection as he pull himself away.

“My pussy.” He reminds the room as he bottoms out inside of me. I groan at how tight the fit always is at first. He works his way all the way out, then does the same push forward. Nico moans this time. “So wet for me. Know how much you like it when I slap your ass.”

“Mmhm.” He brings his fingers up oo my mouth, the same ones that made me this wet, and he stuffs them back into my mouth. He watches them slide in and out, pressing down on my tongue as he presses his cock deeper inside of me.

“Look how good you are for me today. Even though you’re mad at me. Such a good girl, Lex. My perfect wife.” The last praise gets me and I moan loudly through the room. He pulls his fingers out of my mouth, bringing them instead to my clit as he leans farther forward. “Kiss me.” He demands. I curl up, pressing our tongues together, then allowing his to hurriedly enter my mouth.

“Right there.” I moan, shivering, feeling the tightness in my body coil to an unbearable point. My face scrunches up in pleasure and I put my forehead to his big shoulder as I scream out his name in ecstasy. Bright hot white explodes across my eyelids as Nico fucks me faster and harder. “Oh my god!” I yell, feeling myself tighten up again, instantly. Nico picks me up off the couch, fucking hard and fast. His balls slap against my ass as those powerful, hockey thighs take me to heaven again. This time, he comes too. He curses in his languages, almost dropping me as his powerful orgasm explodes inside of me. His fingers bruise me in his desperate grasp to keep me upright.

A freight train of blood rolls through my ears, trying to regulate me after two incredible, back to back orgasms. Nico lays me on the couch, staying on his knees between my spread legs as he curses again to the ceiling. After a few moments, I hear the faint call of a little girl.

“Daddy?” Lucie’s small voice comes from the monitor in her room.

Nico’s brown gaze come back to me. We are both panting, barely breathing. Lucie cries on the monitor again, then Nasty Nico disappears completely, and in his place is my sweet husband. He reaches from my hips, flipping me so my ass is in the air again. Nico leans down, kissing the red marks he’s left on my flushed skin. Once he is satisfied they have been fully covered with his appreciative mouth, he leans forward, connecting his chest with my back.

“I’ll get her.” He murmurs. “I love you.” He closes his eyes as he says it like a grateful prayer. “You need help getting to our room?”

“Mhm.” I respond. He chuckles, pulling my naked body up into his arms. He hands me my clothes before we move towards the hall. I lay my cheek on his shoulder.

“One minute, LuLu.” Nico sweetly calls to her when we walk past her room. “Gotta take care of my number one girl first.”

“I am not your number one girl.” It’s light hearted and I chuckle as I say it. Nico hates it and makes me look at him.

“What? Yes you are.” Nico is confused.

“It’s Lucie.” I shrug like it’s obvious.

“No, it is not.” Nico shakes his head insistently. “It’s you, baby. No matter how many girls we have in our life, you’ll always be first.”

I know better than to argue further with Captain Nico Hischier.

#what my world spins around au #nico hischer x oc #nico Hischier smut #hockey writing #my writing #NHL fan fiction #nhl smut

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smok3r7 · 3 months

Text

They Always Come Back

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Explicit, 18+

Eye Catching

Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My Ao3

Series Summary: You and Aaron met in college, Criminology Major, funny enough. Throughout your five years at George Washington College, you and Hotchner had this on and off again relationship; it was all fun until you started to realize that you loved him. After graduation the two of you cut ties and left it as dumb college love, going your separate ways. After a decade you finally land your dream job, a seat at the BAU; however when you notice the name copied on the email, you can’t believe your eyes.

Chapter Summary: It’s your Freshman year at George Washington College and you’re determined on getting your doctorate in criminology. Little did you know the handsome man you sit next to in your first lecture, Psychology 101, will have you feeling things you haven’t in years.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: anxiety, self esteem issues at first

*a quick little cameo from Professor Joel Miller ;) idea from Chloe with her Seeking series with her cameo of Father Lawrence and @merz-8 with the idea of him being the professor*

—

“Bye Mama, love you!”

“Bye baby, you go rock this shit!”

Your eyes start to well with tears as you back out of the long paved driveway, where your mom stands by the garage door hugging herself, trying her damned best not to break down while she slowly waves to you. When you reach the road and put your truck in drive, you turn your head to look at your beautiful mother one more time as you blow her a kiss. You wait for her to return the gesture before you push your right foot on the gas pedal and you focus your attention on the road in front of you.

Just a four hour drive, all I gotta do, you whisper to yourself as you turn onto the main road that leads to the freeway. You’ve lived just outside of Roanoke, Virginia, with just your mom ever since you were a toddler, and you have no memories of your father or any other family members. He left as soon as he was informed about the pregnancy and all your mom has told you about her family is, well-

“They just let too much shit slide. No one’s ever been held accountable for anything they’ve done. I had to leave, to save you. That’s all I cared about; saving you from their disgusting behavior.”

You have never asked her for further details, gathering on your own that her family, your family, were inhumane and cruel. So you just left it at that, which you really are okay with, at the end of the day. Your mother has been the only family to consistently cheer you on for whatever you do, pushing you to become the smart, strong, and independent young woman you are today. She’s all I need.

—

It’s late August, just on the cusp of September of 1987, and the road trip to Washington D.C is beautiful. The trees are just starting to turn from the bright greens to the light oranges and reds. It’s just amazing to be able to witness the change in seasons. You start to realize that the rest of Virginia isn’t much different than home, which brings you a sense of comfort and calmness.

You love living in Roanoke, it’s so cozy and peaceful, and now that you’re not going to be there anymore, it scares you. The fear of not being familiar with your surroundings is heavy on your mind and heart, since you’ve lived in the same environment and home for twenty-one years.

Even with all that in mind, you’re still extremely excited to start fresh. You’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about Washington D.C - the scenery and structures are breathtaking, and the history of it all enraptures you. But what you’re really looking forward to is the college life; the learning environment, the gratification from being able to move forward in your career, the range of different people, the parties, and who knows - maybe a little fling here and there. Overall, it’s all very intriguing and an electrifying experience that you cannot wait to begin.

In June, you celebrated your twenty-first birthday and that was the day you decided to take your career seriously. Ever since you were a pre-teen and got a chance to talk to an actual FBI agent, who was a woman - insane, right? - in your eighth grade class, you dreamed about becoming a part of the BAU at Quantico. You’ve had a fascination with crime for as long as you can remember, but also, you get this overwhelming sense of satisfaction when you’re able to help others. So no matter the circumstances it takes to get there, you will be able to make it.

You’ve been on the road for about three and a half hours now, stopping to fill up your tank before you hit the city where it’ll cost more. Gotta be smart. When you climb back into your truck, you grab the map that’s on your leather passenger seat and take one more look at it. Your mom insisted on marking the backroads way after a certain time on the freeway to get there with a red sharpie, and honestly, you’re glad she did because otherwise you’d be fucked.

“Just gotta take Fruit Ridge for another ten miles, then take a right on 28th St. ‘n I’m downtown. Perfect,” You tell yourself as you drag your index finger along the red line that leads to your destination. Thank you mama, setting the map down, you put your truck in drive and you’re on your way once again.

The warm summer breeze flows through the open windows of your truck, drying the sweat that’s appeared on your skin, the fresh air rushing up your nose with undertones of country life. The drive has been nothing but sunshine and peace, no one tailing you and no one being an ass in front of you - pretty much just you and a couple cars here and there.

You only have about two miles until you hit 28th St. and the anticipation is starting to hit you. The adrenaline is coursing through your body.

Am I really ready for this?

Can I do this without my mom?

Yes, I can do this by myself, I got this.

Your mind won’t stop racing like the cars and trucks that fly past you, going the other direction, away from the city. You’re starting to get cold feet as you get closer and closer. But, you’ve already made it this far, I can’t back out now.

As you take a deep breath in and out, the back of your head leans back onto the headrest when you notice the large green sign on your right side. You raise your head forward so you can read it clearly.

George Washington College 3 Miles, with a white arrow pointing East.

A soft smile takes over the worried expression you had a minute ago, and you turn onto 28th St., where the scenery changes instantly. Smaller homes and apartments on either side of the road, and people spread all over the yards and sidewalks, unlike the trees and farms that you drove past. A sense of security comes over you, I made it.

Now feeling calm and put together, you can enjoy the last bit of the ride there. With your right hand on the steering wheel and your left arm hanging out the window, the sound of the radio escapes from your vehicle along with the rumble of your engine.

“You’re listenin’ to Classic Hits FM with Doug n’ Carrie. N’ that was The Whispers with their hit, Rock Steady. One of my favorites, what ‘bout you Carrie?”

“I mean how can it not be? But this next one is my all-time favorite right now, can you take a guess at who?”

“Lemme guess, somethin’ by Fleetwood Mac?”

“The one and only Fleetwood Mac, you’re right Doug! My girl Stevie Nicks, the white witch. God I love her! Here’s Seven Wonders, their most recent single that’s been at number one for the last month!”

So Long ago,

Certain place, certain times

You touched my hand on the way, on the way to Emmeline

But if our paths never cross

Well, you know I’m sorry, but

If I live to see the Seven Wonders…

“I’ll make a path to the rainbows end! I’ll never live to match the beauty again, the rainbow's edge.” You sing with a smile large enough to be seen from the sidewalk where a range of people walk up and down.

The beautiful view of the pale brick pillars that hold the black metal gate in between them reads, Professors Gate on the top. I made it.

—

“Knock knock!”

You spin your body around to face the door and your face lights up at the sight of the shorter young lady in front of you.

“Bella! Oh my god!” You yell and run towards her with open arms, “What are you doing here?” You wrap your arms around her, as she does the same. The dorm room fills with laughs and mumbles of words from the both of you.

“I wanted to surprise you, and it worked!” She says into your shoulder as the two of you rock side to side, still holding each other.

“Hell yeah it did!” You step away from her and then the realization hits you, “Wait, is this your dorm?” Your arms wave around to show you meant the room you two are standing in. All she does is nod her head with a huge grin showing off her pearly white teeth, oh my god, no way, you screech again.

You and Bella met in fourth grade and have been best friends ever since. She too only lives and speaks with her mom, and it’s kind of scary to know that someone else has lived your life - but it’s also relieving in a way because you’re not alone, and you can talk about your feelings without feeling judged.

“Criminol-“

“-logy, yes!”

She finishes your question before you can even ask it, something the two of you do subconsciously at this point. Which fits because the two of you are like twins, not identical but the way your minds work together us incredible, and the two of you also share the same birthday, June eleventh, nineteen sixty-six.

The two of you unpack and begin to make the dorm into a comfortable space for the both of you. You and Bella ramble on and on about the drive here and how sad you both felt for leaving your moms at home by themselves. She traveled here about a month earlier than you, her boyfriend needed help moving his things into his apartment - he too is attending Washington College. But you and her knew that this was the best decision, neither of you could stay in Roanoke any longer.

After you both are happy with your sides of the room, it’s about eight at night, the sun has just about set, creating a beautiful pink and orange sky. The two of you kept getting distracted by certain items one of you found while unpacking or just by simple conversation, hence why it took so long.

“Wanna get takeout and watch Dirty Dancing?” You ask Bella as you plop down on your twin sized mattress that’s covered by a sage green blanket. Her face lights up, “What kinda question is that? Of course I do, Domino’s?”

You cock your head to the side and give her an are you really asking? kind of look and she just laughs as she stands from her bed and walks towards the phone that’s on the table on the other side of the room. She picks up the red telephone and dials Domino’s number that you both know by heart, but you realize that you’re not at home, so she must’ve ordered from the one around here in the time she’s been here.

“Hi! Order for pick-up please,” Bella chimes as she wraps the cord around her fingers and sits on the table next to the matching cherry red base. “Bella works, um, I would like-“

She goes on to list her pizza order and your garlic bread balls with chicken wings without any hesitation. After so many years of being friends you know each other's orders like the back of your hands.

“Twenty minutes? Awesome, thank you!” She hangs up the red phone with a click, and hops off the table, “Get dressed, we’re gonna walk. There’s too much traffic to drive there n’ back.”

“So you know where we’re goin?”

“Duh, it’s been my favorite place to get food since I’ve been out here. Now c’mon!”

Okay okay, you concede, shaking your head and laughing as you grab a thin gray hoodie and slip it over your head, then grabbing your black and white Nike air forces and slipping them on. C’mon, Bella drags out with a whine as she stands in the doorway holding the door open, you’re standing in front of the long mirror by your bed just making sure you don’t look too crazy you’re first time out in public in the new city.

“God, you’re so impatient.”

“You should be concerned the day that I’m not, that’s when you know something’s wrong!”

You both laugh as you make your way down the dorm hallway and out into the beautiful summer night air to go pick up your delicious food. When you reach the courtyard, you observe clusters of people spread across the grass. One group of women and men are sitting in a circle, one man has an acoustic guitar and looks like the group is just listening and watching his technique.

Another group of men are sitting on the wood picnic tables as they gaze at the courtyard, much like you are, but they’re whistling and hollering at girls who walk by their table. Not surprised. Then there’s one other group, which looks to be mainly women with a few men scattered and they have a boombox next to their picnic table as they start a dance routine, it looks like they’re practicing for something.

“That’s the dance team, I think we should join,” Bella interrupts your observation, causing you to think back to middle and high school. You and Bella were captains of the dance team for five years, it was one of the main reasons you guys are as close as you are.

As you exit the courtyard and start on the sidewalk, put your hands in the front pocket of your hoodie and turn your face to look at her for a second before you answer. “Maybe, just maybe.”

—

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP

Ughhh, you groan rolling over and slamming your hand on the boxy alarm clock on your bedside table as you sit yourself up, raising your arms to stretch your limbs and yawing from exhaustion. After a moment you turn your attention to Bella’s bed and notice that she’s not there. Confusion takes over your sleepy mind. Where the hell did she go?

You gain enough strength in your tired body to hop off your bed and walk over to the table that holds the telephone, where a yellow sticky note lays on it.

Morning sleepyhead!! My first class starts at 7, I’ll be back around noon! I hope your first class goes well baby, love you!! <3 Bella

You smile at her note and stick it next to the red base of the phone. You turn around and look at the clock, 8:40 AM. Okay, I have forty-five minutes to get there. You shake yourself to wake up fully and you begin to pick out of your brown dresser, a pair of jean shorts and a black, thick strapped tank-top, with your classic black and white Nike shoes. Then sitting criss-cross on the floor in front of the mirror, you do your hair and makeup for the day.

After finishing everything, you glance back at the clock and it reads 9:08 AM. Shit, you mutter, swiftly grabbing your black Jansport backpack that’s filled with notebooks and utensils for class, and your schedule with your professors and lectures on it. Then you're out the door, down the same hallway from last night, but instead of going out to the courtyard, you continue down the hall towards the classrooms.

Psychology 101, 101, you repeat as you search the hall for the door that reads the lecture number. After passing about five classrooms, you finally find the right one. The silver plaque on the wood door reads, Psychology 101, Doctor Joel Miller. You glance down at your watch and relax your shoulders when you notice you’re early by just about ten minutes, so you don’t have to rush or worry about being late.

Might as well go in now and get my seat, you think as you reach your hand on the silver handle and gently pull the door towards you. When you open it, the first thing you observe is who you can assume is the professor writing something on the chalkboard. You can't believe that he is your professor. His cream button up shirt is tight around his biceps and chest, but loose around his lower abdomen where the bottom is tucked into his khaki pants. His brown, loosely curled hair is combed to look nice and not messy. His thick beard to match has you feeling like a child with a stupid crush.

His attention turns to you and he smiles, his round glasses fall a bit down his nose as he tilts his head forward to take you in. Wow, he’s hot.

“Hi, I’m here for your class,” you chime, walking into the large room and turning your head to the left to observe the seats and to your surprise it’s about half full, turning your attention back to him, “thought I would come a bit early.”

“That’s a good idea, I admire the dedication. Don’t let it fade away, darlin’, okay? But, your name is?” Dr. Miller steps away from the board and meets you halfway to greet you. You firmly shake his hand and share your first and last name. Well welcome to Psych. 101, dear, he tells you and winks when he lets your hand go.

Thank you, sir, you smile and turn to head towards the stairs on the edge of the room, so you can claim a seat. You observe the other students here, a couple pairs of friends scattered throughout the seats just talking away, and then the loners, you guess you could call them. But the person who catches your full attention is the man who can’t be much older than you, sitting alone in the second row at the top. He has this longer black hair sort of combed back, but not insanely gelled, with his round thin glasses, and a facial structure that’s sharp and soft at the same time.

Holy shit.

You’ve never been shy to men, you actually tend to be more confident than most, usually making the first move. It’s just something your mom and Bella have instilled in you throughout the years. So you decide to take a shot with this handsome young man in front of you.

“Is this seat taken?”

The intelligent looking man picks his head up from his desk to look at you a few feet away from him, pointing at the chair next to his. He takes a second before he answers, “Um, I don’t think so.”

“Perfect. Thought I’d keep you company up here. Ya know, since you’re all by yourself ‘n all,” you slightly tease with a smirk as you slide your bag off of your right shoulder and set it on the carpeted floor next to the wooden chair.

He chuckles watching you sit down in the seat only a mere three feet away from him, “Oh, did you now?”

“Yes, sir. So, are you gonna tell me your name or am I gonna have to pry that information outta you too?” You laugh as you put your right elbow on the long table in front of you and rest your cheek in the palm of your hand, looking into his beautiful, cognac colored eyes just waiting for his smooth voice.

“Aaron Hotchner, and yours?”

“That was easier than I thought,” you joke before you repeat your name once again, which you feel like you’ll be doing a lot these next couple weeks. You carefully watch his expressions and listen to the inflictions in his voice when he does speak.

He smiles and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms gently as he replies, “That’s surely a beautiful name. May I ask where you’re from? Your accent isn’t from here.”

“Roanoke, Virginia, born and raised. What about you, Aaron?”

“Aah, that’s it, I should’ve guessed. Manassas actually, not too far from here. Just about a two and a half hour drive, depending on the traffic.”

“Wait,” you start before sitting up and leaning your other arm on the back of the chair and using your hands to talk, “so you’re telling me, you’ve lived in Virginia your whole life right?”

Aaron nods his head with a slight smirk on his face, watching you trying to put the pieces together.

“But you don’t have any kinda accent? Like, just none whatsoever?” Your voice raises a bit towards the end of your question, just because you’re genuinely curious on how this man doesn’t have any sort of accent or country twang to it at all.

“That’s right-“

Before Aaron can fully answer your question, he gets interrupted by Dr. Miller, “Welcome to Psychology 101, my dear students. I am Doctor Joel Miller and I will be your professor for this class.”

You and Aaron quickly stop your conversation and focus on Dr. Miller who’s introducing the course to everyone. You were so caught up in conversation that you didn’t even notice the seats that were empty, are now full. After a minute, out of the corner of your left eye you watch as Aaron slides a small piece of paper over to you. Without looking at him, you grab the note and look at it.

My phone number, 202-896-0089 ;)

You fold up the paper and put it in your back pocket. Quickly, you glance over to Aaron and you notice he has this cocky smirk that fades just as fast as it appeared. Your stomach is flipping with joy and anticipation, you wonder what this could turn into. Turning your full attention to the front of the classroom, the eye candy of a professor, Dr. Miller is back by the chalkboard, going over the syllabus for the class.

#aaron hotchner series #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds #they always come back

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snixkers · 2 months

Text

Beach Breeze

Pairing: Spencer Reid × Wife!Reader

Angst

For: Anonymous request

Content Warnings: Loss of child, rainbow baby, miscarriage/stillbirth, spreading ashes, grieving parents

Summary: After your son didn't make it, you take your daughter to your favorite spot on the beach.

Author's note: This was a request from a follower. I don't have any kids, but I am grateful they wanted to reach out to me for this. I hope I was able to honor his memory.

Feedback is always appreciated

Requests are OPEN

The car ride was silent, filled with a sense of melancholy in between Isabelle’s outbursts. She looked around the car, curious as to why the drive was taking so long.

This was her first road trip, and she was behaving about as well as one would expect toddler to in a cramped car. Your husband drove in silence as you calmed her down, tending to her needs.

Finally, the two of you pulled up to the beach, checking you had packed all the bags and towels.

You lifted Isabelle out of her carseat, letting her relax in your arms before trekking over to your favorite spot on the beach. Spencer followed close behind, carrying a small urn.

You settled down a towel near the shoreline, waving him over and making sure everything was away from the gentle waves. You applied sunscreen to yourself and Isabelle, making sure the two of you were properly protected from any harmful UV rays.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, you both knew it was time. You picked up your daughter, cradling her as you waded into the water. Spencer followed, carrying the porcelain jar as if it weighed more than it really did. The three of you stood together, listening to the water lapping at the sand.

This had always been your favorite place to visit. It was where Spencer proposed, where you announced your pregnancy, and where you mourned the loss of your son. You sniffled softly as you watched him hold out the urn.

Isabelle reached her hand out, trying to grab it. He pulled it out of her reach, rubbing her hand. You calmed her down before she could throw a tantrum, looking out at the vast ocean in front of you.

“We’re here to say goodbye to your big brother, Isabelle. Can you say ‘Bye, Logan’?”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #writers on tumblr #fanfic #spencer reid #reqs open #spencer reid x reader #angst #loss of a child

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bagopucks · 1 year

Text

T. Zegras - Stand By Me

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader, platonic Jamie involved in one bit.

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning(s); general angst, the reader has an auto immune disease called lupus, one mention of blood, sorta-kinda-maybe smut if you squint.. but like.. not really.

I did some research, but because I didn’t want to cross any boundaries and be too wrong, I didn’t go into much depth over anything. I listened to too much Billy Joel while writing this. I’ve decided Billy Joel love ballads go well with Trev.

—————————————

Trevor Zegras as the world knew him:

The aggressive, egotistical, hotshot hockey player. Rough and tumble, always mouthy. The loud, constantly moving, big expressions and huge personality kind of guy.

Trevor as I knew him:

A kind, gentle, considerate boy. Who made sure he set my pill organizer out for me every morning before he went to practice. Who made sure we were always stocked up on prescribed lotions and ice packs. And would spring up from the couch at the first sign of a fever. And learned how to cook on nights when I was in so much pain I could hardly move.

It took forever to get officially diagnosed with lupus. Trevor had been there from the beginning, when symptoms first began. At first, we hadn’t thought much of it. I passed off body aches for period or ovulation issues. I assumed the rashes were allergic reactions, and the fevers were just random waves of California heat. We had been oblivious. When things got worse, I began seeing a doctor.

Test after test had been run through. I was prescribed various medications, some of which helped and others didn’t. But the ones that did help, never lasted long. Eventually, it got to the point that Trevor feared leaving me home alone. Especially on the days he would wake up, and I would be unable to pull myself out of bed. I hated it. He hated it. We feared the unknown.

As much as it overwhelmed me, I knew it overwhelmed Trevor too. All the road trips, calling me, feeling horrible for leaving and saying how he wanted me to call somebody at home if I needed them. He was scared, but it was knowing he wasn’t in control that freaked him out. I assumed that’s why he became so observant and vigilant when we finally did get a diagnosis. Because at last, he could control things. Not everything, but some things.

Trevor hadn’t been home the day I got the diagnosis from my doctor, but it gave me time to really figure things out on my own. I knew little about the autoimmune disease, and as much as I loved Trevor, I knew his endless questions would only overwhelm me more than this new information already did. So I did my own research, allowed myself time to process and cry. Come to terms, and eventually begin working on a game plan for myself.

When Trevor did come home, it was a process of sitting him down on the couch and talking him through it all with everything organized on my laptop. Trevor tried so hard to understand, but I knew it would be a lot of trial and visual learning for him. And I had been right.

“So.. so, this is what you have?” He pointed to the computer screen. I nodded. “And.. it’s permanent?”

“Yeah, babe.” Trevor nodded. He tried to understand. What did autoimmune mean? What was Lupus? Why did it have to have so many big words attached to it?

“So.. where does all the treatment start?”

“Do you have to take medicines?”

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“We can still be together, right?”

“This is a lot.”

I answered most of the questions, at least the ones I knew answers to. The others I promised to answer when I knew what to say.

Trevor got so tense with himself when he was home. We used to be a pretty rambunctious couple, but after I got prescribed blood thinners, and the body aches got worse, a lot of that changed. Trevor became far more timid around me, and at first he was as gentle as a toddler when touching a newborn baby. I helped set the pace for what was okay and what wasn’t.

“T, lemme see that ribbon.” I reached across the living room floor. I tried to snatch up the red ribbon before his hand flew out to take it.

“Let me curl the ribbon.” Something I had always done during Christmases. But it involved open scissors.

“Trevor, it’s fine…”

“Yeah but.. what if you cut yourself? Just teach me how to do it.”

Outside and inside of the bedroom, we set paces together.

“Should I- maybe…” Trevor shifted, causing me to groan. Worst time to ask questions is when you’re already in somebody.

“Trevor.. you don’t have to be so gentle.” I reached up to rest a hand on his forearm. “Why don’t I take the lead this time?” He relented and turned us over. He feared hurting me even when he didn’t do much.

“I’ll be fine, okay? Just pay attention. I promise I’ll tell you if it ever hurts, or if something is wrong.”

I’d always told Trevor that he did extremely well, but he wasn’t perfect. I didn’t expect him to be. And accidents happened.

“Babe?” Sometimes the rashes simply broke out over night.

“Trevor, Shh.” I tried to roll away from him, but when his fingers ghosted over the irritated skin on my face, I gasped at the feeling.

“Fuck- T!” I scolded, my eyes opened immediately.

He hated when he felt like he messed up. I hated when I scolded him for things he didn’t mean to do.

“…I told Jamie you weren’t feeling good anyway, so he went out without us.” Trevor had been rambling for a while, both of us in the bathroom doing our own thing. He was busy grabbing an extra roll of paper towels from the cabinet under the sink. I was trying to brush my teeth. I attempted to step out of the way when Trevor harshly pushed the cabinet door shut, but the corner skinned my calf anyway. I gasped, and managed to choke on toothpaste in the process.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” Trevor was frantic all evening over my leg, apologizing over and over. After we got the arguably minimal amount of bleeding to stop, he still peeled back the bandages every so often to make sure everything was okay. I had to tell Trevor we were wasting bandaids.

The days when I felt absolutely disgusted with myself were the worst. I hadn’t lost all my hair, but it certainly thinned. And I hated looking in mirrors when my rashes got so bad that my skin would crack and bleed. Showers became hell. Trevor started to take them with me more often.

“It’s okay, baby.” He ran his hands through my hair, never commenting on the tiny strands that would remain on his hands long after he pulled them away. I stood tucked into his chest, arms folded up between us, fully enveloped by him.

My flawless boyfriend.

“I know it irritates.” Washing my body was the hardest on days when the rashes were all over. The dry skin never took well to the water, even if it provided a momentary relief.

There were days Trevor wouldn’t even bother with a washcloth. He would put the body wash on his hands and run them over my body from top to bottom. It made me cry. I would never understand how one emotion caused him to completely shift his personality around me.

Love was a powerful feeling, I suppose.

Love turned Trevor from a rambunctious loud, abrasive guy. Into a completely devoted and caring man. A gentle, expressive, and considerate man.

“We’re almost done,” he whispered as he ran his hands down my legs, kissing the patchy skin on my calves and ankles. I found the rashes were always the worst on my ankles after I wore shoes for long periods of time. The tongues of said shoes always rubbed my skin uncomfortably. I had to buy longer socks to help with that.

After Trevor finished lathering my body in wash, he’d trail his hands back up and all over. Sometimes I was lucky enough to sit on the lip of the tub while he shaved my legs. Times when my body hurt too bad to stand very long, or even bend over, he offered to help. Those moments he often found it easiest to make jokes and cheer me up.

“Haven’t mowed the lawn in a long time, eh?” He mumbled with a cheeky grin as he knelt in front of me, pulling my foot up onto his thigh while the other hand reached for my shaving cream. I giggled and ruffled his wet hair. Sometimes I found his comments embarrassing, but he was a guy. He was bound to find the weirdest statements amusing.

“I love you so much, T.” I whispered while his nose was scrunched and his brow was furrowed, face inches from my knee as he tried hard not to cut it with the razor. Hands that used to pinch and gently smack me when he was teasing or play fighting. Hands that used to throw me around like a rag doll after I challenged him to a wrestling match, now so light and tender. Like I was fine china.

Trevor also learned that dab-drying worked better for my skin than rubbing the towel all over my body after showers. It got the job of drying done, but it was far easier on my body.

I loved the tactic, but what I loved even more was the little sounds he’d make while he did it. They always made me laugh. Trevor always found a way to make our abnormal routines funny or cute. He always wanted to distract me from the fact that our lives were different.

After he’d finish drying my body, he’d whisk me away into the bedroom and how I felt usually dictated what we did next.

If I was tired, we’d take a nap. In pain, he’d give me one hell of a massage. The occasions I ended up horny? Trevor fixed that too.

And through Trevor’s learning, Jamie picked up on things too. When Trevor was on road trips and I was stuck with Jame, I learned I could lean on him. He was always one call away when I needed him. Even if it meant yelling across the house.

“Jamie!”

“I’m coming!” His thudding and rushed footsteps always endeared me.

“Hey!”

At times he’d find me on the floor.

“Hey, what happened?” He rushed to my side, helped me up slowly, and assured himself that I wasn’t injured.

“Guess I just can’t walk today…” I mumbled, embarrassed. The joint pain was always the worst to handle when I needed to be active.

“Alright.. what do you need to me to do?”

I found that Jamie was still on the ‘what do you needs?’ While Trevor already knew seconds in advance. And Trevor was far more confident with my illness than Jamie was.

He’d often text Trevor on my bad days to let him know. He’d also sit with me on the couch, never too touchy, not wanting to cross any lines. But when we’d sit at opposite ends -watching anything on the tv- occasionally, he’d pull my feet into his lap and gently rub them or my legs.

When Trevor would return from those long road trips, he’d always see me and tend to my needs and profess his love, before asking if I needed new pills, or if I needed him to stop by the store for anything. He’d been a domestic disaster before I got my diagnosis. Now, he was one of the most domestic guys I knew.

“This is it? Everything on this list?”

“All the groceries we need for the week. Yup.”

“Okay.. did you ask Jamie if he wanted anything?” I smiled and nodded. We were always taking care of Jamie.

“The store bought cookies are for him. And the purple Gatorade.”

“Okay. I’ll be back. Then I’m making dinner.”

Those words brought a huge smile to my face.

“Can’t wait, Trev.”

Sometimes I would go with him, but only on days when I felt on top of the world. Usually I tried to spend those days going out, but Trevor was always afraid I’d overdo it.

On those good days when he turned out to be right, he never told me so, or shook his head or laughed at me. He’d simply welcome me home with open arms and a sympathetic expression. Because he knew how much I missed my normality. How much I missed my old life.

And often times when I dwelled too much on that, he was always there.

“You’re beautiful. And I love you so much. And I’m happy with where we are right now. I’m happy to look after you, and love on you, and I’m happy you let me stand by you.”

His confessions were often spoken whispers in the darkness of our bedroom at night. Or on the rooftop. He hated when I went up there alone, but he still found me there from time to time.

He sat behind me, pulled me against his back between his legs, and wrapped his arms around me.

“We’re doing this together. I’ve been here from day one, and I’m not leaving now. I’m already in too deep.” He smiled. His breathy laugh would make me giggle.

“I’ve already seen too much.” He added with a playful touch of horror in his tone. I reached behind myself to slap his chest. I knew he was genuine. I knew he loved me. And I hoped he would never leave me. He always told me he was there until our last days on this earth. Until we both ceased to exist.

“I promise I’m sticking around. Me and Jambo. But mostly me.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #jack hughes #quinn hughes #Jamie Drysdale

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winchester-girl67 · 5 months

Text

Wild Hearts (Part 6) - Two Years After Dean Left

Summary: During her gap year, Y/N goes to visit Dean for his birthday in Sioux Falls while trying to figure out her next step in life.

Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Square: Car broke down @spnfluffbingo

Word Count: 6,763

Warnings: underage, age gap (reader is 18, Dean is 22-23), reader is feeling a bit lost, angst, past injury (scars), mentions of physical abuse by a parent/violence/death/prison, language, slow burn, kissing/cuddling, talks of sex/relationship, fluff

A/N: Written for @spnfluffbingo. Enjoy.

_____

Two years after Dean left.

So far, your gap year wasn't turning out the way you'd hoped. You weren't anywhere closer to figuring out what to do with your life and you didn't have the means for backpacking through Europe. Flights and hostels cost money and though you saved up, it would go fast and you'd already figured out that solo travel wasn't for you.

So you bought yourself a car and it was a used piece of junk, but it was yours.

You weren't technically sure if you could categorize it as a car, though. It was more of a rusted piece of tin that would stall like a toddler having a tantrum, for no reason! It was only ever meant to get you from point A to point B, not go on cross-country road trips to see a boy who was never your boyfriend.

Yet here you were, on the side of the road on a particularly balmy day in January, waiting for a tow-truck. You'd almost made it all the way to Sioux Falls and you were so excited to surprise Dean with a blast from his past for his birthday. Then the engine overheated with a jarring clunk sound and you were forced to pull over as it stalled out again. Smoke billowing from under the hood. Stupid car. Stupid road trip. You should've flown but you wanted the time to think. Now you had too much time.

You were wrapped in your long winter coat and sat on the hood of your car. It had long since cooled and the smoke cleared but the dark paint attracted the sun and it was warm as you waited for the tow-truck. You had called the garage that you knew Dean worked at, but you got his uncle on the phone and were expecting him to show up. Instead when the truck finally arrived it wasn't an old man driving it.

"Y/N," Dean said with a look of shock as he stepped down from the truck on bowed legs.

Damn it, surprise ruined. You forced a nervous smile.

"Hey, Dean. How's it hanging?" You said, sliding down from the hood of your car to meet him halfway to his truck parked in front of you. You stood a foot away from each other and shifted your weight from one leg to the other. Not quite the embrace you were hoping for after so long. "Damn it, I should've said something cooler... Surprise!"

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

That wasn't much of a warm welcome either.

Why was this so awkward?

"Uh- um, you know, sightseeing." You pointed to the snow covered field to the right of the quiet highway, squinting at the trees in the distance.

"Yeah because Sioux Falls is the number one tourist destination. In the middle of winter." He said, glancing in the direction you had pointed with nothing substantial to look at.

You'd argue the field still had its charm. Snowflakes sparkling in the sunlight.

Dean looked back at you and cocked his head like he knew you were hiding something. His eyes burrowing into you, set on digging out the truth without the use of words. Somehow it worked and you folded your cards.

"All right, you caught me." You rolled your eyes dramatically, "You sounded kind of sad on the phone when you said you'd be spending your birthday alone and I... didn't want you to."

You left a little late but drove nonstop for as long as you could and made it there with half a day to spare. Tomorrow was Dean's twenty-third birthday!

"Sammy's only gonna be gone one night, I'll still have the morning with him before he leaves for his field trip." He said, still not believing you.

It was partially true, it was the reason you used to convince yourself to come. But the reason you risked the drive in such an unreliable car was different. And he knew it.

"He's in University, they don't call them field trips anymore." You teased but he remained stoic.

You talked on the phone and texted all the time. You should be able to read him better but video calls were glitchy at best lately with the weather and it takes time to be able to read someone's body language again after years apart.

"Why are you here, Y/N?"

"Can't a girl show up for no reason but to celebrate your birthday? I thought you wanted me to visit." You remembered the postcard he'd sent asking you to on your gap year.

"I wanted you to call first. I would've paid for a flight." He said, shoving his ungloved hands into his pockets, likely to keep his fingers warm.

It was winter after all, there was a nip in the air. He didn't wear a toque but the tips of his ears were still protected by his hair which he had let get longer since you last saw him.

You sighed regretting the road trip and feeling stupid for thinking he thought about you as much as you still thought about him. Maybe he wanted you to call first so he could talk you out of making the trip. But then maybe you were over thinking this and letting your insecurities get the best of you. That has been happening a lot lately.

You shrugged and played with your mittens, "I needed to clear my head and driving halfway across the country sounded like a good idea to do that."

He sighed a visible manifestation of his breath, "What's going on? You sounded fine last time we spoke."

"Nothing, I am fine." You chewed on the inside of your cheek and blinked away watery eyes, "I just have no passion for- like, anything."

"I don't know what you're talking about, you are extremely passionate in everything you do." Dean said, somehow knowing this had to do with you struggling to figure out your whole future at eighteen. Sure, some kids had known what they wanted to do since grade school but for you, it felt like it was next to impossible, "You'll figure it out."

"Okay, okay, enough." You said, raising your mitten-clad hands.

You didn't want to think about it anymore. You were finally in a place to explore your feelings with Dean and although that's not why you drove out there, you'd be lying if you said it wasn't in the back of your mind.

"Where are you staying?" He asked, changing the subject.

"About that...? I fit on a couch pretty good."

Dean smiled, he knew exactly what you were getting at and he had the space since he and Sam had moved into their own apartment. "Good thing I got a couch then."

His attention shifted to your car parked on the side of the highway. His eyes scanned over the dents, scraped paint, rust and bald tires; the side mirror barely held on with duct tape and the bent antenna. The radio was staticky at best. His jaw tightened.

"Is this your car?"

"Yeah," you answered tentatively like it was an obvious answer and you knew you were in for a scolding.

"This is your car? This is the car that you decided to drive practically cross-country in?"

Here it was, "Um, yeah."

Dean walked past you to get a closer look at the car. "Y/N, this car couldn't limp to the next exit if it wanted to."

He kicked the tire and frowned back at you. No doubt seeing the extent of the worn tread. And he knew you knew better than to drive it that far. After he started his job at the Singer's Garage with his uncle he'd made sure to give you a lesson about car safety in case you took out your parents' car, let alone get your own. His attempt at teaching you to change a tire via glitchy video chat was by far the most epic of fails.

"That's kind of the problem, it doesn't want to." You quipped, giving him a cute smile to ease the tension but it didn't work.

"Who sold you this piece of junk, anyways?" He asked, looking away from you as if your smile was blinding him.

He kicked the tire again.

"I don't know... Chuck, I think." You said, trying to remember the name of the salesman who sold you the car back home.

"Chuck?" He repeated and laughed silently without humour.

"Yes, Chuck. Why do you keep repeating everything I'm saying?"

"Chuck as in Chuck Shirley's Used Car Lot outside town? Y/N, he's a cheat. He sells nothing but lemons. You should've called me, I would've told you where to go." He sighed in frustration and bit his lip, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets.

"I wanted to surprise you, that was the whole point and I didn't want you to tell me not to come." You said and his green eyes immediately found yours. Your chin quivered either from the cold or what you were about to say next. You weren't sure which. "You don't really seem happy to see me."

"You think I'm not happy to see you?" He asked and his stare softened.

You bit the inside of your cheek, "Well, you are doing that weird repeating-everything-I'm-saying-as-a-question thing again."

"What if you broke down?"

"Uh, I did break down." You pointed to the hunk of tin on four wheels just sitting there.

He rubbed the back of his neck, "I mean, what if you had broken down somewhere I couldn't get to you. Y/N, you could've gotten yourself stranded in the middle of nowhere. Or worse."

"I'm pretty sure two hours outside of Sioux Falls is the middle of nowhere."

"You know what I mean. There are strange people out there."

"I know, I'm looking at one." You teased and pushed his shoulder playfully but he didn't react, "Why are you so worried? Dean, I'm fine, I'm standing right here. You could even do something as crazy as -Oh, I dunno, hug me?"

He cocked his head at you and pointed, "You don't get to own the monopoly on worrying."

He was right, you were always worrying about him especially when you lived in the same town. And the current role reversal was throwing you for a loop. Just another thing you couldn't control.

You pushed back your hair and sighed, "Fine, but can we fast forward to the Dean that's actually glad to see me? I'm starting to think this was a really bad idea."

"In that car, it was a really bad idea." He agreed and you stared at your shoes, holding yourself. "But I am so fucking glad to see you."

He grabbed your shoulders and bent down so his forehead rested against yours. A single tear got away from you as your anxiety about seeing Dean again and everything in between boiled over and you wiped it away with your mitten.

"Really?" You sniffled but it could've been from the cold.

"Yeah, really." He pulled you in for a hug and you rested your cheek against his warm chest. Your arms wrapped around his waist and your hands clutched his jacket in case he decided to pull away before you were willing to let go. "Of course ‘really’, Y/N."

You hummed, "Hm, I'm starting to think this was a good idea again."

You held onto him until your fingers got stiff from the grip you had on him and pulled away. Dean looked down at you and brushed your hair behind your ear. A cold gust of wind turning the shell of it as red as your nose and cheeks. You had probably sat out in the elements a little too long.

"There's no way you're driving that home, by the way. I'm still mad but I can't believe you're actually here. It's like you haven't changed at all." A smile replaced his frown and he looked you over as if he expected you to look a hell of a lot different or maybe older with the time and distance between you.

"It's been two years, a lot has changed, I'm eighteen now!" Your hands went to your hips as you glared up at him.

The truth was that it had only been two years and your reflection in the mirror hadn't changed a lick. You hoped it would, that you'd wake up eighteen and an adult and that mirror would reflect that, but it didn't and you weren't about to admit that even you didn't feel your age. You technically haven't felt any older since you got your license. Birthdays after that kind of lacked lustre.

Maybe that was what it was like getting older though. First you stop feeling like your birthday is a big deal, stop feeling any older despite the number, then the milestones get further and farther between and eventually you have to think about how old you are. Maybe that’s how it was for Dean and maybe that’s why he seemed so far away.

"You're so cute." Dean said and roughed up your hair.

You hated the way it made you feel like a kid counting to ten on your fingers and shoved his hand away. Sure your life was a little unorganized at the moment which probably led to this epiphany about birthdays that you were having but that didn't mean you were a child. He didn't treat you like a child when he met you at sixteen and now you were legally an adult. So what was his problem?

"And you're still strange." You squinted.

"And wonderful, though, right?" He cocked an eyebrow and smirked, remembering the compliment you gave him the first night you met. 'You're strange and kinda wonderful.'

Dean didn't tinker with your car's engine much before he gave up and hooked it up to the tow truck. You didn't think that had any indication on how good of a mechanic he was and more about the state of the engine itself. Every time he tried the key the lights would come on and the starter would spark but the engine kept quiet. You didn't know much about cars other than the basics he'd talked about since you ran out of other stuff to talk about over the phone. But still practical and theory were two very different fields and you couldn't tell the starter from the alternator, though Dean said neither of those seemed to be the problem.

On the drive back to Singer's Garage Dean let you pick the music and you tuned into a country station that he seemed to hate from the first note. So after a song you switched it over to classic rock which you knew was his favourite. The next couple hours were spent listening to him hum along, out of tune, to songs old enough that your father listened to them when he was a teenager. They weren't bad though and you loved the way Dean seemed happier.

You hoped it was real and not some facade he was putting on for your sake. Somehow, you didn't think it was.

Maybe he didn't need you to save him from his birthday alone after all, but he seemed to want you there. He took side glances at you the whole drive back; that had to mean something.

You walked into the garage after Dean. An older man stood at the desk in the office wiping the grease from his hands on a rag. It didn’t seem to help though since the rag itself was already covered in days old worth of oil and grease. He tossed it to the side of the desk when he saw you walk in with Dean.

"Hey, Uncle Bobby, this is Y/N." Dean smiled and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"Ah, the infamous Y/N. Me and the Mrs. have heard a lot about you." Bobby said and you blushed.

Dean talked about you when you weren’t around.

"Bobby," Dean warned, side eyeing you and Bobby held his hands up with a smirk pulling at his lips.

"You didn't tell us she was coming to town, son." He said and you saw how that word ‘son’ affected Dean.

Like he actually had a father worth getting to know, one that cared and worried and you loved that for him. Dean deserved to be surrounded by good people that treated him better than his blood had.

He had hindered his own wants since childhood almost to the point that he denied himself of anything good until now. The lighter air about him, especially in the presence of his uncle, made you hope that he'd found a balance and that his move to Sioux Falls was for more than just Sam after all.

You might've been trying to find yourself, so to speak, but maybe you weren't the only one. There was a twinge in your gut that made you feel like you were losing him, to another town, another life you weren’t a part of, and eventually another girl. Even if there wasn't one in the picture now.

You hadn’t talked about relationships and he never mentioned any interest in anyone but you knew you weren’t together either. Dean was all sorts of awesome and a little broken but you admired everything about him; how he could stay calm through uncertainty, say exactly what he thought at any given moment and give up so much for the people he loved without asking for anything in return. You’d never met anyone else like him and compared every boy that asked you out to him, before you inevitably turned them down and skipped prom altogether.

Dean would’ve given you a blast for skipping so you never told him. Instead Benny and Cas took you sand surfing and out to Donna’s for ice cream afterwards. It was sweet and nostalgic and perfect. You wound up spending most of your time with them after Dean and Sam left. The three of you bonded over your love for the boys and the void they left in your life even though you’d only known them for a fraction of the time and still kept in contact with Dean. But sometimes the phone calls weren’t enough and it was just easier to spend time with someone who understood all of that and Benny really was a teddy bear once you got to know him.

You felt safe with them and the age gap didn’t seem to register when there was no chance of attraction. You were hung up on Dean and they knew that. Besides, Benny and Cas still flirted a lot, but never with you. You thought they’d make a cute couple if they ever realized the feeling was mutual and not just casual.

"He didn't know. It was a surprise." You said with a shy smile.

"And you ran into a bit of trouble, I see." Bobby said, walking over to your car that was parked outside the open garage door.

He took a look under the hood that Dean had propped open after disconnecting it from the tow truck and made a face. The same face Dean had made when he looked.

"Nothing Dean can't fix, I'm sure." You said and Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

“I could fix it but the cost would run more than the worth of that car. You said the engine overheats and stalls out regularly, not to mention that it still doesn’t want to turn over. Sorry, Y/N, but without an overhaul of the engine it’s basically a paper weight.”

“I guess, I’m flying home after all then, eh.” You sighed, staring at your two-ton paperweight.

You helped Dean around the garage for the rest of the day. Mainly working on this ridiculous orange shop truck, changing brakes and fluids. He said it was basically ready to sell and that’s how they made business during the lulls in customers. By finding salvageable vehicles and fixing them up. He also made you rotate the tires, though they looked brand new, and you were positive that was just his way of ensuring you knew how to change one; by the fourth tire you felt like a pro.

It was only a few hours before they closed up early for Dean’s birthday dinner. They were celebrating early with Bobby and Jody since Sam wouldn’t be home for dinner on his actual birthday and Bobby invited you along.

Dean took the luggage from your car and stuffed it into the trunk of his Impala. You noted the dents in the front bumper were still there and the headlight was taped up with clear plastic. Dean said he’d been scouring salvage and junkyards for parts but had yet to find any to fit Baby with. You could tell he regretted the damage he’d done to her; it wasn’t her fault, just like how their upbringing wasn’t his. You could tell he connected with her on some spiritual level that people connected with inanimate objects.

When you got to Bobby and Jody’s, a short haired woman greeted Dean with a hug and you with a smile. Until she learnt that you were Y/N and then she pulled you in for a bear hug like you were family. You wondered exactly what Dean had told them about you. However, whatever it was seemed to make a good impression.

Dinner was great and you fell into easy conversation with Sam about his courses. He’d taken the heaviest workload he could and was struggling with studying, so you said you’d send him your playlist for concentrating. You had used it a lot throughout high school and only added to it over the years. It was a mix of easy listening pieces, movie scores, and instrumental works you knew Dean would probably hate.

Dean was delighted in the way you scarfed down your slice of cherry pie. Jody apparently made it for him every year and it was by far the best you’d ever tasted. No wonder he’d bragged about it for as long as he did.

By the end of the night you were full and exhausted from your time on the road. You had only stopped at one motel along the way, and it was a good day’s ride to Sioux Falls from home. So, as much as you would’ve liked to spend the night partying it up with Dean, you were thankful that he just wanted to get back to his apartment and watch a show on Netflix with you.

Dean carried your bag up to their apartment and let you get first dibs on the shower. Sam, of course, went to bed as soon as you got back. It was late and he had that field trip the next day that he needed to be refreshed for. Dean didn’t seem to mind though, he was mostly concerned that you weren’t too tired to hangout. You lied and assured him that you weren’t since you were determined to be awake when the clock struck midnight. But you passed out on the couch as soon as he hit play.

You woke up well past midnight to Dean carrying you. You were too tired to protest and kept your eyes shut when he laid you down in his bed and tucked you in. Then he left and you fell asleep again mumbling a ‘Happy Birthday’ that he wouldn’t have heard.

In the morning you realized he had spent the night on the couch and you woke up snuggled into comforters that smelt like him. The only thing you missed was the heat of his body. It felt weird to miss something you never had.

“Hey, birthday boy.” You yawned, meeting Dean in the kitchen and wrapping your arms around him from behind.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” He said, patting your arms on his waist.

You heard him sizzling something on the stove. A drop of grease spit from the pan and landed on your arm, “Ow.” You released him and rubbed the spot on your arm, “What’s with you and bacon?” He chuckled and you hopped up on the counter stifling another yawn. “Where’s Sammy?”

“He left.”

“Already?”

“It’s the middle of the afternoon, Y/N.” He said and turned to face you. He looked equally as tired, probably from that damned couch.

“Sorry,” you muttered, “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You were tired and it’s not like either of us have anywhere else to be today.” He shrugged and smiled, “I wanted to ask yesterday but I didn’t wanna pry. How long can you stay?”

“September,” you said hopefully and he laughed.

You technically hadn’t applied to college yet, but you were planning on taking something in the fall. You just didn’t know what and you were trying not to think about application deadlines.

You helped Dean make an early dinner since you hadn’t eaten yet. You peeled potatoes for his ‘famous bacon mashed potatoes’ and he grilled a steak on the small balcony sized barbecue outside. It took longer than a regular barbecue and the sun was setting by the time you sat down with your food in front of the TV.

You were starving and ate quickly while Dean ate at his regular pace. His affinity for adding bacon to almost every recipe including mashed potatoes doing little to curb your appetite. It was actually pretty good and you both grabbed seconds.

"This looks familiar," Dean chuckled, tugging the fabric of your hoodie between his fingers.

Your dinner plates abandoned on the coffee table to be rinsed and washed later.

"I should think so," you grinned and blushed. "It's yours -It was yours, it's mine now."

You clutched the fabric of your hoodie in your hands. It was the sweater Dean had given you the night you met. You'd forgotten to give it back that night when he dropped you off at home and kept it ever since. It was worn but it was your favourite sweater now. It provided warmth and comfort over the years and there was no way you were giving it back.

"Looks better on you anyways." Dean laid his arm along the back of the couch behind you.

"That's what I thought." You smiled at him and his other hand brushed your cheek, his fingertips grazing your jaw as he tucked some hair behind your ear.

"Did I tell you how happy I am that you're here?" He asked, his voice just above a whisper.

The show you were watching faded into the background and all you could hear and feel was the heartbeat in your chest thumping wildly. He held your gaze as his palm warmed your already fiery skin. You wanted him to kiss you but he didn't.

"You saved me, Y/N, I never told you that. I was just barely hanging on when I met you. Surviving everyday just for Sammy, but then you showed me the beauty in life and made me wanna fight for myself again. When I looked at you I saw a future, a glimpse of something that kept me going and maybe it was a fantasy, it felt like a dream, but now-"

You turned and kissed him, tucking your legs underneath yourself so you could push up on your knees to meet his lips with a little weight. Dean's hands clutched your waist, fingers pressing into your skin and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

It wasn't the kiss you wanted. He held back and a tear trailed down his cheek. You pulled apart your lips and he sniffled, his hands still gripping you like you would disappear.

“This can’t work.” He whispered and met your eyes, shaking his head. “You’re everything I want but this won’t end well, it can’t right now, Y/N.”

What? You pushed your brows together, "I would never hurt you, Dean."

"No, but I won't let you hurt yourself either." He pushed you away.

“You’re scared. Of this, of us. That’s it, isn’t it?” You asked, pointing between you.

He sighed and rubbed a palm down his face, “Y/N, you know that’s not true.”

“It’s not just about me, Dean. There’s another reason you’re holding back.”

“Cut me some slack, Y/N, it’s my birthday.” He said, playing the birthday card pretty fast like he had it in his back pocket.

But you didn't drop it.

You placed your hand on his heart and raised his to lay over your breast. Each heartbeat thumping wildly enough to feel the vibrations in your palms.

"Do you feel that? Our hearts are wild, Dean. They wither in cages waiting to be broken. Do yourself a favour. Don't cage your wild heart, set it free." You pleaded. He was the only one you ever wanted, a feeling that was mutual as much as he fought it. "I know you love me."

He kissed you then and it was like lightning coursing through your veins. All thought was lost and your bodies mended together as he crawled over you. Your back pressed into the couch and he held his weight over you as his tongue gained entry to the warmth of your mouth. The air in your lungs replaced with the air in his and his hands grabbed at yours, linking your fingers together and pushing the backs of your palms into the cushions next to your head.

You panted and hummed, breathing heavily through the nips and sucks to your lips and throat. You angled your hips up to his, wrapping your legs around him and pressing your heels into his backside but Dean didn’t close the distance to give you more friction. He just kept kissing you.

You separated your hands from his and pawed at his henley. Dean sat up, pulling you with him and letting you push his shirt up his chest. You tugged it over his head and away from his arms, tossing it to the floor next to the couch.

He leaned in to kiss you again but you stopped him with a hand to his chest. The lamp next to you was lit and it was the first time you'd seen him bare chested. You felt the raised skin beneath your fingertips as his chest rose and fell with each breath.

The scar you had only seen the tail end of that night on the beach ran from his collarbone down the left side of his chest and into the waistband of his jeans towards his hip. Dean sighed when he saw the tears in your eyes and reached for his shirt.

"No, wait," you grabbed his hand and settled into his lap, wrapping yourself around him in a tight hug. You rubbed your hands over his shoulder blades feeling a myriad of raised skin, forming other unseen scars that covered his back. Your chin quivered, faced with the irrefutable proof of the pain his father inflicted on him and you let the tears drip onto the skin of his shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I knew what he did to you but somehow I still didn't know."

"It's over, Y/N, he's never going to touch me or Sam ever again. Not even when he gets out of prison. I'll kill him myself before that happens." He said as if he was promising himself.

You went to kiss him again but he turned away and pushed you off of his lap. You sat next to him on the couch and he slipped his shirt back on and rubbed the nape of his neck, then sighed as looked at you.

That look of lust in Dean's eyes was gone and now he was stopping whatever this was between you before it got out of hand. Even if it was the last thing either of you wanted.

"Y/N. My heart will always beat wild for you whenever we're together, but it's also like I can't think rationally when we're close like this. My mind and body are clouded by this fleeting feeling and when it's gone neither of us are going to feel any better about this. And that's exactly why this can't happen now. You're still trying to figure things out and I can't stand in the way of that. You're not done growing yet. So for now, my heart stays here," he tapped the left side of his chest twice, "And I'm not caging it, I'm containing it because if I released it, it would devour you."

"Couples grow together, Dean. Haven't you ever heard of growing old together."

"Couples grow together when the time is right." He brushed the sweat-dampened hair from his face.

"How do we know when the time is right?" You asked.

"Because it'll be easy... natural.” He explained, cupping your cheek with his palm and running the pad of his thumb along your cheekbone.

"I want it to be easy now." You said, grabbing his wrist as he pulled his hand away.

"Trust me, me too. But when we get there, it'll be worth the wait because there will be nothing standing in our way. You'll know it's what you want." He said as if he still wasn't sure you wanted him.

"I know that now. I want you now." If there was one thing you were sure about, it was that. Your feelings for him had only cemented since you were sixteen.

"You think you know that now, Y/N. You're still young." He said like he still saw the girl he'd first met and finally pulled his hand away.

"Just because I haven't figured out what I want to study doesn't mean I'm a baby. I may never know, Dean." You frowned.

You were more than old enough to know what you wanted in your romantic life. You wanted a man to treat you right like you knew Dean would. He'd proved it time and time again in almost every other way.

"I never said you were a baby. I just want you to take this time to focus on yourself. Be selfish for once. Do you really think it'll be easy to start something now when I live halfway across the country and who knows when we'll get to see each other again." He explained making too much sense for your dopamine soaked brain. "I won't lose you to some meaningless fling when that's the complete opposite of what I want."

"Maybe, I could go to college here." You thought out loud but you liked the sounds of it.

"Or maybe you could figure out what you want rather than make decisions based on me."

"But, Dean-"

"Y/N, how can I ask you to move here for me and shape your life around me when this is only my home for the now."

"What do you mean?" You asked and sank back into the couch, feeling unwanted.

"Sam wants to transfer to Stanford Law after his degree here in USF. That gives me time to get some work experience and him some time to get to know the closest thing we have left to family. That means three and half years from now California will be our home and I don't know what comes after that. I can’t ask you to move with us, take you away from your family, your home, your friends, interrupt your own studies; that’s not fair to you. Maybe one day, when I can take a breath, when we’re both settled... All I want is you happy.”

He was right. You had a chance at a life of your own, the only problem was that it wouldn’t include Dean. Not in any physical form anyhow and you were torn, between building a future, and the boy who taught you to care.

"You make me happy." You decided.

"No. I would make you happy for now but it wouldn't last. You deserve more than that, more than I can give you right now. I plan on changing that, I plan on being the guy that can make your dreams come true, but right now, that's just a fantasy." He explained and shook his head like he could see a future that you couldn't.

One where you were together, but how long would that take? A fantasy. That's exactly what it felt like, a fantasy, meaning it would never come true. He would just keep waiting and wasting time until it was too late.

You knew you didn't want that.

"You're saying 'right now' a lot but tomorrow never comes, Dean."

"Our tomorrow will." He said with conviction in the greens of his eyes. "Just not today, Y/N, sorry."

"All right...” You sighed when you saw Dean’s pout. The way his eyes pleaded for you to understand and you did. Being open to love took more than just turning a certain age and it wasn’t your time yet. “Okay, it’s okay, Dean, I get it.” You smiled, “Happy Birthday."

Dean wasn’t ready. You could see he was overwhelmed and he was still figuring things out for himself. He was willing to wait for you two years ago, now you could wait for him.

You stayed the rest of the month, helping out Dean in the garage with small jobs. Bobby didn’t object even though it probably took you twice the amount of time to change oil as it would if they did it themselves and they had to double check everything you did. Short of retightening a few bolts though, you thought you got the hang of it pretty quick.

When January turned to February and things were starting to get too comfortable, you knew you couldn’t continue to hide in Sioux Falls forever. You had to get back home and take that next step. Otherwise, you were in for a life standing still.

“Y/N, can you come here for a minute?” Dean called from the front door of his apartment.

“Hey,” you walked out from the kitchen, having just put a lasagna in the oven.

Bobby and Jody were coming over for dinner and Sam would be home from class soon.

“Put your boots and coat on, I’ve got something to show you.” He bit back a beaming smile and raised his brows.

“What’s this all about?” You asked, dressing in your winter gear.

“You’ll see,” he smirked and pulled your toque down over your eyes like a blindfold.

“Ugh, Dean, I don’t like this.” You said, stretching out your arms to feel around.

“Two minutes, trust me.” He said, directing you out of the apartment and into the elevator.

You squirmed with his hands on your shoulders as he directed you out into the parking lot, snow crushing under your boots from the storm the night before. You trusted him but you were starting to lose your equilibrium.

“All right, open your eyes.” Dean said, pulling off your toque to reveal the monstrosity of a truck in front of you; with orange paint the shade of a pumpkin. It was the shop truck you had helped him with your first day here. “Before you say anything, you’ll need wheels to get you home and then to college and anywhere else life takes you. I know you think the paint job is ugly but this truck is safe and reliable and best of all, I won’t worry about you driving it. Well... I’ll worry less.”

You shook your head, “The colour is perfect,” and it was, “And I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“You already have, Y/N. You worked at the garage for no pay.” He said as if a week's pay would've been enough to afford the truck.

“That was fun and you and I both know that I held you guys up all week.” You said and cocked your head with a shy smile.

“No, you didn’t. We liked having you there, you boosted our morale, and Bobby and I wanted to do something to show our appreciation.” He said, holding out the keys for you and jingling them. "Please, just let me do this for you."

You nodded, “I love it.” You launched yourself at him, hugging him tightly around the waist. “Thank you.” You kissed his cheek again and again.

“Now, next time you visit I won’t have to worry about getting a call from you broken down on the side of the road.” He laughed, hugging you back and resting his chin on the top of your head.

“You won’t because it’s your turn to visit me next time.”

_________________________

Part 7

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33 @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

Wild Hearts: @justrealizedimmascifygurl @evieluvsjamie @kimberkingrivers @vicmc624 @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch

#spnfluffbingo2022 #au!dean winchester x reader #au!dean x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean x #dean winchester x #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #wild hearts series

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stickthroughthephases · 4 months

Text

"Un"-Happy Meal

C(S). Reptile/Syzoth x Reader | WC. 1588 | G. Fluff |

Syzoth had still been adjusting to life in Earthrealm and amongst humans who were not the other Earthrealm defenders. Fortunately enough you lived away from big cities and towns, opting to reside in the quiet countryside of your village. Though he was always on alert whenever the two of you went into town for food or to explore, his fascination with the bright lights and greasy smell of fast food wafting throughout was increasing each time he crossed passed with the fast food joints in town.

The town centre was located about an hour and a half from the village you lived in and a half hour more from the secluded area out of the village where you and Syzoth lived now. You usually saved the long trek for Saturday mornings every couple of weeks, making the visit even more exciting.

This particular trip into town was different than most. Your longtime friend had asked you to babysit her five-year-old daughter Aria, who had become the unlikeliest of friends with your partner, in turn, was happy to entertain the little one. Having babysat her since she was born, and the other countless times since you and Syzoth became a couple, what was the worst that could happen?

The toddler was dropped off early in the morning as you and Syzoth prepared to head into town. After securing any additional supplies to keep the toddler entertained and fed, the three of you were now ready to make the trek into town. As roads were still scarce in your village, and most of the 21st-century advancements pertained to the town centre, you had set up a cozy ensemble for Syzoth and Aria, in the back of your horse-driven carriage. Sure it was a little old-fashioned but it was a reliable form of transportation.

Arriving at the town centre, Syzoth and Aria waved to all the street vendors and passersby, all of whom waved back with the same enthusiasm. Sharing their own little jokes and giggling at funny sights, you couldn’t help the smile grace your lips hearing the two in their own world, enjoying each other’s company.

The day had gone virtually stress-free, Aria and Syzoth entertained each other as you ran your errands, Syzoth carried any and all of your bags of course despite your protests and somehow also managed to carry Aria on his shoulders.

As far as little kids go, Aria was unfazed by other temptations of candy and other toys displayed during your errand run, but there was always one indulgent activity she wanted to do—visit McDonalds.

Your friend often told you how she could bargain her way out of other requests if she promised to take Aria to McDonald's at the end of their trip into town and it worked like a charm for you as well, additionally, Syzoth had always looked doe-eyed whenever walking passed the elaborate establishment that you figured it was time he try it too.

The step inside the McDonald's transported Syzoth into an out-of-body experience. His nose detected a variety of smells unfamiliar to his previous knowledge and his eyes, a vast hue of colours displayed inside. You found an empty booth near the Play Place so Aria could enjoy playing as you all waited for some food. Since Syzoth could not enjoy human food, he settled for exploring the huge menu and watching Aria.

The play area was an oasis for the little one who quickly made friends with other kids and immersed herself in the made-up games.

The place was fairly packed so you opted to go back to your table instead of just standing near the order station whilst Syzoth was whisked away by Aria and her newly made friends to act as the bad guy for one of their games.

All was well until to “catch” the children, he had to follow them up the intricate slide area, it didn’t occur to him, until too late, that the space was made for kids and it was fairly high up. He made it up to the highest tunnel slide until the enclosed space shot the memory of Shang Tsung’s lab across his mind. Frozen, the voices of Aria and other children fell to deaf ears as panic settled. Breathing became hard and the tight space seemly began to further compress leaving Syzoth with no room to move.

Confused, Aria ran over to you distressed.

“Syzoth won’t come down, we called his name and everything but he won’t respond!” she shrieked, worry etched in her brow and voice.

“Aria, it’s ok don’t worry, I’ll go get him down ok?.” Your attempt at consoling Aria works a smidge as she nods along to your words, still clearly not convinced.

You quicken your steps and attempt to navigate through the maze of ladders, slides and tunnels, calling out to Syzoth to locate him.

“He’s in the purple tunnel!” yells out one of the children, who are all gathered at the end of the slide connected to the tunnel in which Syzoth is stuck, trying their own to coax him down the slide.

You locate the quickest ladder and begin your climb, almost slipping due to the lack of grip on your socks but catch yourself before tumbling down. Bending down, you get on your knees to climb into the tunnel, moving slowly until you reach a frozen Syzoth.

His eyes closed shut, sweat beading down the side of his face which was flushed red, arms outstretched with an iron grip on the raised bars inside the tunnel so tight his hands turned white.

“..Syzoth…love…can you hear my voice?” you begin, slowly crawling towards him.

There is a pause, and the only sound is from the children down below, muttering amongst themselves.

“Syzoth,” you try again. “Sweetie is everything ok?”. You stop moving until you’re a mere few inches apart, unsure if the space is enough to avoid making him feel suffocated.

Before you can even register it, your hand moves by its own accord to cup the side of his face, slightly shaking as if it was unsure of it’s intentions, and lightly swipe your thumb across his cheek. You wait for Syzoth’s reaction and when you sense a welcome to your touch, you press your hand further into his cheek and feel as he leans into your palm.

You try once more.

“Syzoth, my love, can you open your eyes? Its just me, I can help you,” you assert but quickly follow it up with, “-if you need it.”

Long lashes lift gently from his cheek until his downcasted eyes turn slightly to face you, panic and anxiety bouncing behind his irises begin to dwindle down from the assurance of your touch and your face that reminds him he is no longer stuck in his past.

The breath he didn’t realize he was holding comes out in a small huff, you demonstrate the breathing techniques you both have grown used to utilizing whenever the familiar panic rises up from the depth of Syzoth’s conscience, stabilizing him into the present.

“I’m sor–”

“Ssshhhh,” you reply before he can even finish his apology.

You move closer to press your forehead against his, a silent gesture, one you know he would understand as a reminder that you hated when he apologized for panic attacks such as this and chose to spend a few more moments in your intimacy, forgetting the crowd that had gathered below.

“IS.HE.OK??” shouts the gathering of children, who escaped your mind, equally worried about their newly made friend who was stuck in the tube.

You pull back and instruct Syzoth to sit at the entrance of the slide.

“Do you need a few more minutes?”

“No need, I feel much better,” he gleams readying himself for the much too small slide.

You wrap your legs around his waist and use the bars on either side to push the two of you down the slide.

After a short twist and turn, the two of your arrive at the bottom of the slide with a loud “BOO”.

Scared faces suddenly rejoice to see the two of you, quickly hounding Syzoth to ask if he is ok, to which he assures that he just got a little bit scared.

As the kids busied themselves of sharing their own stories of bravery, a choral of parents beckoned their children, some to eat and others that their playtime was now over. You, Aria and Syzoth waved goodbye to the kids and went to enjoy to your own meal.

Aria attached herself onto Syzoth and refused to let go which prompted him to carry her back to table as you collected their food. Her attachment was short-lived at the enticement of her happy meal toy, busying herself in the colouring book and consuming her apple slices.

Similarly your had found itself on top of Syzoths for the entirety of meal as both a reassurance for him and yourself.

The day was now at its end, a sleepy Aria tuckered from exploring and playing so you laid her to rest in the little cocoon in your buggy and Syzoth opted to sit beside you as you started your trek back to the village.

The sun was starting to set and the air felt a little chillier than before, you feel Syzoth hand snake around your waist and his head finding solace on your shoulder.

“Maybe next time we eat our meal at an outdoor playground without any tunnels,” whispers Syzoth, snuggling closer to you.

*Author's Note*

I've seen enough Syzoth smut for life and I think we need more fluff and soft stories for the MK characters, their life is already so hard, thus I just had to write this for Syzoth when my best friend sent me an idea several months ago about babysitting and getting stuck in the McDonalds Play Place.

#mortal kombat #mk1 #reptile #syzoth #reader x character #syzoth x reader #syzoth shorts #syzoth x you #syzoth mk #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #syzoth x y/n #fluff #gender neutral reader #one shot #imagines #Minaar writes

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palmofafreezinghand · 21 days

Text

By an act of fate Charles Evenson finds himself in Ashland, Wisconsin searching for his missing wife. cw: references to domestic abuse and infant death.

on ao3 here.

Saturday, February 19, 1921. 6:07 PM.

Washburn, Wisconsin.

“Edward, no.”

The car engine roared to life before the front door had a chance to slam shut.

“Edward, please.”

Within seconds the coupe was speeding down the dirt road, leaving a cloud in its wake.

“Edward, don’t.”

The woman was still pleading long after the woods had swallowed the view of the automobile. Her cries were heard by no one but a confused, but sympathetic, doctor.

__________________________________

Saturday, February 19, 1921. 9:01 AM.

Union Depot. Ashland, Wisconsin.

A steam whistle pierced the air as Charles Evenson’s train lurched out of the station, without him.

He skidded to a halt at the edge of the depot. He desperately bent over to catch his breath, his knees cracking as they moved. Between the bullet in his hip and his age, the sprint across the station had his irregular pulse pounding against his skull. He grimaced as a toddler waved at him from the train window, pointing at him and then getting his mother’s attention. Charles lazily waved at the young woman gaping at him through the moving window, sneer never leaving his face. She caught his gaze, quickly looking away, pulling her son from the window in what seemed to be a mix of guilt for catching the train and… fear.

“Excuse me, sir,” a shrill woman’s voice said behind him. He took a deep breath, attempting to wipe the irritation off his face, and turned to face the voice. An older, stout woman was standing in front of him, holding his wallet and cane in her hands. “I believe, you dropped these.”

“Yes. Thank you,” he said, taking his belongings. In his haste, he had failed to notice.

“Did you miss your train?” She asked.

It was such a pity for a woman to have neither brains nor beauty, hopefully she was a half-decent cook. Although perhaps she was not as dim-witted as she appeared and used idiocy as a ruse to cover a much larger sin for a woman to possess: inquisitiveness.

“Yes. I did not realize the service I took from Saint Paul was to a different station,” he huffed, tucking the wallet back into his coat pocket.

Charles had naively believed his secretary could book his trip efficiently. Misplaced faith meant he was forced to run a mile and a half in a Wisconsin winter in ten minutes, miss his train, and endure a dull conversation with a prune.

“You are not the first to make that mistake,” she smiled. Her teeth were yellowed and crooked.

He refrained from rolling his eyes, the woman was older than his mother, and he could be polite, even if it took every ounce of his willpower.

“You are from Saint Paul?”

“No, I live in Columbus. I was in Minnesota for work.” The work was smuggling hundreds of dollars worth of moonshine, a detail best kept secret.

“The only other train East today is towards Chicago. It doesn’t leave until nine this evening.”

“Of course, it doesn’t,” Charles sighed. He flipped open his wallet and searched for a bill. His fingers first found a five but he quickly stuffed it back, fishing out a single dollar bill instead.

He extended the dollar to the woman, she waved it off with her wrinkly bony fingers. What would it take to get her to leave?

“No, no. Enjoy your time in Ashland. Perhaps now you can say hello to Mrs. Bauer,” she said, slowly walking away from the platform and back to the main doors.

“Who?” He called after her, leaning down to pick up his baggage.

“The woman in the photograph,” she said, turning to face him. He frowned and she quickly amended her statement. “Your wallet was open to a woman’s picture. Anne Bauer is it not?”

His eyebrows furrowed. Was there a picture in his wallet?

He dug in his pocket for the wallet, and flipped it open, greeted by a woman he had not seen in nearly eight months: his wife.

Paul — Charles’ third eldest brother — had offered to take their portraits as a wedding present. Charles had still thought of her as lovable when he slipped the print in his wallet, the day before he left for the Front. It had been against protocol — which dictated all identifying artifacts were removed from your body — yet carrying a reminder of a woman he liked the idea of seemed necessary at the time.

They had their… differences, and in the eight or so months he had lived without her he had missed her a handful of times. The morning he awoke to find her gone — four sunrises after she truly left — he had been livid, which was quickly taken over by fear. The blood in their marital bed, the dried dirt under his nails, the occupied grave he had dug in her parent’s orchard. Details pointing to a sinister answer, she did not leave him in a fit of hysteria, he had escorted her out of this life.

Reluctant to admit, even if only to himself, that he was a murderer he had visited her cousin in Milwaukee, who had once harbored her for two weeks. Mary swore on her own children’s lives she had not seen his wife and threatened to report the disappearance and all she knew about Charles’ conduct to the authorities if he did not leave.

He returned home and concocted a lie about how he came home one night to find the lock broken and his wife missing. The neighbors who had heard screams of terror and fits of rage did not believe this lie, but they never said a word otherwise which is all that mattered.

It had not crossed his mind she could still be alive, his conscious free. He held the wallet out to the old woman whom he was praying was confused. “This was the photograph?”

“Yes. That’s her, the widow who teaches in Washburn.”

That bitch.

“You are a friend of hers?” She raised her left eyebrow at the word friend.

An emphasis, there was no mistaking the meaning of. It was odd for a man to keep an image of a woman, who was not his wife, on his person. Especially when the woman was in a wedding gown.

What relation would make it not odd?

“My sister. I had not planned on visiting her since the trip was intended to be short but seeing as I will be in town until late I may be able to visit.”

“Her brother,” the old woman smiled. “She’s such a sweet gal. Despite her circumstances. Has she had the babe yet? Last I heard she was almost due.”

His stomach lurched. She had still been home nine months prior. Of course, she could have betrayed him causing her to flee. But deep in the pit of his stomach, he knew this was not the case.

“We have not been able to write frequently as of late,” Charles lied, voice almost shaky. “She is busy, as you could imagine. Last I heard she had not, no.”

“Well, do give Mrs. Bauer my regards,” the woman said before finally turning away for good.

“Oh, I will.”

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

Saturday, February 19, 1921. 9:25 AM

Washburn, Wisconsin.

A crisp ten-dollar bill had been enough to convince the cab driver to take Charles twelve miles to the small shoreline logging town and wait for an hour.

In the almost half hour since he had realized his wife might be alive, and more significantly he might have a child, he wafted from well-disguised rage to sorrow. If it turned out that the crone in the station had a riddled memory and mistook his wife for an innocent widow would he be disappointed? If his wife was alive and well could he convince her to return home? How would he explain her initial disappearance or the potential child? Perhaps they could move?

He was getting ahead of himself, he first needed a plan to meet ‘Mrs. Anne Bauer.’ If Anne was his wife, he could not simply waltz into the schoolhouse and demand she accompany him. She was charming enough to convince the town he was a madman, a threat, a danger. He needed to meet without an audience, at her home. Yet, if Mrs. Bauer was a widow whose only sin was bearing a mild resemblance to his wife he could not approach her at home without being escorted out of town by a Sheriff.

As he approached the town’s tiny one-room post office he paused to observe the first townspeople he had seen. A middle-aged couple were making their way down the stairs, arms linked, the man carrying a stack of envelopes in his free hand. The woman’s face turned to surprise when she spotted a young blond man packing boxes into the back of an automobile.

“Dr. Cullen!” The woman exclaimed, dropping her husband’s arm.

The man, apparently a doctor, turned to face the woman and Charles was able to catch the man’s face. Odd, was the only way to describe the man.

“Good morning, Mr. And Mrs. Birch,” Dr. Cullen said, stalling his packing to give them his full attention.

“I have been searching for you but you’ve been practically missing this past month. My niece is staying with us for the season, you must come for dinner,” the woman insisted.

“Oh, I appreciate the invitation, Mrs. Birch. But I must decline, I have been told I am an awful dinner party guest, I am utterly incapable of upholding conversation not concerning diseases and organs.”

“Then I will serve goose liver,” she countered.

The doctor laughed but was unmoved. “Thank you but that will be unneccessary, Mrs. Birch.”

“I will convince you one of these days,” she said pointedly, turning back towards her husband and linking her arm through his again. “Do not let her persuade you, Doctor,” Mr. Birch said over his shoulder.

“Arthur, hush,” Mrs. Burch said, lightly smacking her husband.

The doctor smiled to himself as the couple walked down the street.

“If you told them the truth you were attached she would relent,” Charles said, walking towards the doctor.

“Oh, I am n- How did you? What gave you that impression?”

“You have the air of a man shackled by a doe-eyed girl.”

“I would not use the term shackled,” Dr. Cullen said quietly.

“Ah, you are hoping to be attached.” “Perhaps,” the doctor smiled at his feet.

Charles knew soon enough the young man would realize the trap that was a blushing innocent but for now, he was intoxicated by the thrill of a nice girl.

“Do you live around here?” Charles asked. He figured if anyone were to know the people of a town it would be the doctor.

“Yes, further North. I work in the city,” Dr. Cullen said, resuming sorting his packages. “You are visiting, I presume.”

“Yes, Anne Bauer, do you know her?”

The doctor froze for a split second, something that should have gone unnoticed. “I believe the name sounds familiar,” he said slowly, focusing unnaturally on his task. He had loaded all the boxes and was now unnecessarily sorting them.

“She’s a widow, currently expecting, a teacher.”

The doctor nodded, ‘mhm-ing’ to himself. A noncommittal, unsatisfactory answer.

Charles dug his wallet out of his pocket, pulling the photo out of the wallet. He handed the paper over to the doctor. “Her?”

The doctor held the photo delicately, staring at it for half a minute. “She is young here, but yes, I knew her,” he said, finally tearing his eyes from the image. “You knew her well?”

“Yes, yes, we’re quite close. If you could tell me wher—”

“I apologize for being the one to break this news, Anne passed last month.”

Charles could feel his jaw drop. His legs felt like river reeds, swaying in the stream. “She… She’s dead?”

“You have my deepest sympathies,” Dr. Cullen said with solemnity.

“The child?”

“Her son passed shortly before her, lung fever.”

Charles Evenson had a son that he lost every chance to know because of his own selfish, cruel actions.

“Th-thank you,” Charles told the doctor, starting to walk, more accurately stumble, back down the street. He did not hear the doctor call after him offering him the photo and asking if Charles was alright. His mind was lost in images of a son that never would be.

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

Saturday, February 19, 1921. 5:57 PM.

Washburn, Wisconsin.

Carlisle could hear his two companions inside as he made his way slowly down the dirt driveway. The familiar banter was quickly becoming one of his favorite sounds. While the transition into their world had not been entirely smooth, Esme had become a priceless addition to his life.

“Oh, I loathe this one,” Esme sighed as Edward began to play Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 23.

“It’s Beethoven,” Edward responded curtly, continuing on with the composition with masterful precision.

“It is utterly depressing.”

“Depressing,” Edward scoffed.

Carlisle smiled to himself as he parked the automobile. Esme was still reluctant to express any of her opinions freely but when she did allow the two men to know her thoughts on music it often sparked heated debates.

“I imagine this is what plays in a murderer’s mind before he kills.”

“You have too vivid an imagination for your own good,” Edward teased.

Carlisle tried to open the door quietly, so as to not disturb the scene of domesticity but his efforts were interrupted by a pleasant, “Good evening, Dr. Cullen.”

“Good evening, Ms. Platt,” he said, moving quickly to join the pair in the sitting room.

“Please, call me Esme.”

“I will not drop honorifics while you insist on calling me Doctor,” he said for what had to be the twentieth time, earning him a roll of her eyes. He took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, listening to Edward play the “depressing” tune. Esme returned her attention to the book in her lap.

Carlisle allowed his eyes to slip close briefly while he listened. “I suppose it is rather intense,” he acquiesced, opening his eyes as Edward began to play even more passionately.

“Not you too,” Edward huffed, attention never leaving the keys.

“Thank you,” Esme smiled slightly, she still had yet to freely smile in the time he had known her. “How was your day?”

“Quite fine,” Carlisle said. For hours he had debated how to broach the subject of the man in town. Esme’s constitution was delicate, to put it mildly. To remind her she was mourned could be potentially disastrous. Yet, as soon as he saw her his resolve to keep the man a secret crumpled. “I met someone in town I would like to ask you about.”

“Oh?”

“He was quite charming, very personable. He was not from Ashland. You once mentioned you have a brother, correct?”

“Harry,” she nodded, “he died in the war.”

That complicated the matter. Carlisle had presumed by the man’s reaction he was a close dear connection, one personally affected by the loss. Her brother seemed the logical conclusion based on how Esme discussed her childhood. How awful for her to have lost both her beloved brother and husband to the war.

Edward’s fingers halted mid-note. “Carlisle,” he said between clenched teeth. “Think of that face again.”

Carlisle did as instructed, unsure what significance the old friend of Esme’s held in the boy’s mind. Although, Edward had been overly paranoid about leaving any trace of Esme in Washburn’s history, going as far as to erase hospital records that so much as mentioned her son. Whomever this past connection was had left Washburn without fuss as soon as he realized who he sought was no more. Edward was, as usual, overreacting.

“When did you see him?”

“A quarter past nine?” Carlisle guessed. “Edward, the man poses no threat.”

“You have no idea the threat,” Edward said, standing from his bench and storming out of the room in one swift furious move.

Esme’s gaze followed Edward from the piano to the doorframe, and a look of recognition hit her face. “Did he have a cane?” She asked quietly.

“Yes,” Carlisle said, turning his attention back to her. Esme’s eyes were wide with an emotion he dared say was fear. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Esme was off the couch and bolting after Edward. Carlisle followed out of pure confusion.

“Edward, please,” she pleaded, running down the hallway.

“Esme, stay,” Edward spat in a tone harsher than Carlisle had ever heard him use, throwing the front door open.

“Edward, do not do anything to him.”

“Go inside, Esme.”

“No,” she grabbed his arm. He flinched but froze in his step, refusing to use force to remove her. “You are not to find him. I am pleading with you.” Her voice was close to a tearless sob.

“Esme, the things he did to you,” Edward hissed. A statement that made Carlisle’s stomach turn. The things he did to you. The wedding portrait he had stored away in his medical bag. The man’s shock at the passing of her son. How Esme flinched every time someone raised their voice. No?

Edward nodded brusquely in Carlisle’s direction. “He must be dealt with.”

“Edward.”

“I will not kill him,” Edward said quietly, in a tone not entirely convincing. He placed one hand over Esme’s on his arm. “I promise.”

“Who is this man?” Carlisle asked, stepping towards the two. Although he presumed he knew a fraction of the answer already.

Esme glanced back at him eyes wide, mouth agape. Edward used her moment of distraction to pry himself away, marching towards the automobile.

“Esme will explain. I will be back.”

“Edward, no.”

The car engine roared to life.

“Edward, please.”

Within seconds the coupe was speeding down the dirt road, leaving a cloud in its wake.

“Edward, don’t.”

The woman was still pleading long after the woods had swallowed the view of the automobile. Her cries eventually turned into explanations which turned into tearless sobs.

When Edward finally did return it was with clean hands, finding Charles had unfortunately made his train and was out of Ashland, alive and well.

#charles evenson #esme cullen #esme platt #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #my stories #twilight fanfiction #thank you thank you thank you to the anon who requested this!!

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