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#something something all these moments will be lost in time like tears in rain

chrollohearttags · 7 months

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FIRE HYDRANT • portgas d. ace

ace loves his little squirter, perhaps a bit too much.

content + themes: firefighter!ace, firefighter!reader, choking, hate fucking, heavy squirting, he’s such a mean dom in this, mentions of oral sex, daddy is used, finger sucking, slapping, pet names are used (my love, babygirl, sweetheart), calls reader slut, missionary/mating press

📝: just a lil something to help me get my steam back. If it’s bad, you never saw it.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰───────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰────

“Okay, okayyyy…take some outtt..fuck!”

“Don’t be stupid, now move your hand before I do it for you.”

he was relentless and had been for the past couple hours or so..it seemed like he had no intention of doing so anytime soon either. Perhaps this time around..your big ass mouth had bit off far more than you could ever chew. Hence why at the moment..he was fish hooking his fingers in the sides of your jaws. Prompting you to suck on them as a means to shut you up. Feeding you a light tap to the cheek to ensure so as well.

“Rookie..how many times do I have to say it, huh? You don’t run a damn thing. It’s been what..four? Five? Hell, I’ve lost count how many times you’ve come on this dick. It’s like you can’t get enough of me, my love. I already knew that much though.”

the words tearing through you like a serrated dagger, slowly but surely cutting you up. A reminder of your weak resolve. You hated it, you hated it so fucking much that the one man you despised got you wetter than any boyfriend or partner you’d ever encountered. That this bastard knew your body far better than you did sometimes. He could do things that you’d never even imagined..taking you to heights unknown and yet, all you could do was stare at him in disgust as his cock plunged within your center repeatedly. Slamming balls deep as they smacked against your puckering asshole; drenched in your sticky mixture from drumming it out of you. It was just as he said, you had come for him for about the seventh time now. Running on fumes and pure spite to keep going. Maybe you wanted to prove him wrong that you could take whatever he threw your way, including the dick.

“Haaaah!—shit! Not right there..I’m gonna—“

“I know, babygirl. I know you are so why fight it? Squirt on daddy’s dick. Feels much better than arguing with me, doesn’t it?”

or..you loved the way he fucked you and your pride wouldn’t allow you to admit it! It would explain the large puddle formed underneath the towels on his couch and the splashes surrounding his foot; the other planted next to you so that he could truly get in it the way he wanted. And here you were..in the last position you wanted to be! Folded like a goddamn pretzel with your toes wiggling behind your head and this asshole hovering over you with that same stupid grin on his face, those deep set eyes and his necklace dangling in front of your nose. He was enjoying this. Enjoying turning his stubborn little rookie into his personal fire hydrant. The tight, juicy grip of that cunt embracing him like a warm hug..tinting his tan hued shaft with a sheet of white essence before exploding into the sweet, delicious rain as he made you squirt yet again. He’d never had pussy like it and it was for that reason alone, he put up with your bad attitude or rather, calmed it down.

“Nnggghhh!..I can’t..” your words were barely even making it above a decibel. A lot more quiet than the shouting you did at him when you first arrived. Pissed off about your inspection results earlier in the day. Granted, that was before he hissed at you to sit down, shut the fuck up and be a good slut for him..before he snatched your sundress down to reveal those plump tits and sucked on those gorgeous brown nipples that go so erect for him as he fingered you. And well before pinned your legs back and damn near sucked the flavor from your pussy! Using those nimble fingers to get you to climax..it was then that he discovered your little secret:

“Ahhh..so you’re a squirter, rookie? Well that’s good to know.”

and hadn’t stopped exploring it since. So for the duration of your stay, he’d been stretching that pussy out and using you to his heart's desire. Pulling on your hair, smacking on that fat ass as he gave you vicious backshots. Even tossing the pillow out of your way so you had zero comfort. His punishment for waking him up. Using your mouth as his personal cock sleeve, making you eat him up until you made a mess, calling him daddy after rewarding you with a warm nut to the back of your throat and after that, the fun really began. He’d kept you like this..drawing out orgasm after orgasm; streams of clear juices reaching as far up to his chest. Pulling out, tapping that mushroom tip against your slit to coax out another right after. He was having too much fun!

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who can’t even keep her eyes open. Too bad for you..”

suddenly, you’d feel the hard clutch of his digits around your throat which prompted you to gasp for air whilst clawing at his forearm. Zeroing in on your face, he’d hiss through gritted teeth and smile before slamming your head back down: “we’re not done, so wake that ass up. ‘M gonna beat that little pussy of yours so sore, you’ll be lucky if you can crawl out of here when I’m done. Gonna fuck you until you’re empty, baby..”

and something told you, that wouldn’t be anytime soon!

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adoreddestiny · 2 months

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ೃ⁀➷ WEARING HIS CLOTHING — rafayel, zayne, xavier x gn!reader

“c’mere it’s starting to rain harder,” rafayel says, huffing as he closes the door behind you. the scent of wind and rain stains your clothing as you look around his studio. he sighs, running a hand through his wet hair. his fingers soak up the raindrops before he turns to you.

though he stumbles a bit as he spots the white shirt you're wearing growing more and more sheer from the rainy weather. rafayel feels the tips of his ears and his cheeks burn before he tears his gaze away from you. "you're probably getting cold in that," he spits out, "wait here. i'll get you a change of clothes in the meantime."

you barely have time to reject his offer before he darts towards his room. he returns hastily with new shirt and a beige and red cardigan of his. any chance of your denial is shot down with his arms crossed over his chest. "just change into it," he mutters, still avoiding your gaze.

you shrug, stepping into his bathroom to slip out of your soaked shirt. the shirt fits decently but the cardigan is much larger than you realize. the sleeves cover your hands and feel like flaps. but it smells like the bothersome painter you've grown fond of.

stepping out of the bathroom, you find rafayel sitting in front of the fireplace. it seems he's changed as well but it's difficult to tell from the large blanket he's enveloped himself in. but he pauses, looking you up and down.

"what?" you laugh, "cat got your tongue?" his cheeks burn once more but he scoffs, pulling you down into his lap under the blanket. "don't you dare say that devilish name in my home," he mutters, burying his face into the crook of your neck. you smell like him now and there's a tenderness he finds himself embracing when his hold on you tightens.

“i’m home,” zayne calls out, shuffling out of his shoes. he pauses, expecting you to come rushing out from somewhere to greet him. but when nothing arrives, he feels his chest tighten. perhaps it’s a little silly to have been looking forward to your welcoming smile.

he finds himself looking around your apartment in all of your usual spots. but he doesn’t need to look too hard when he finds you in your room. you’re curled up atop a layer of laundry in deep sleep. it’s warm to the touch and the scent of linen is fresh in the air.

zayne feels the edges of his lips tug when he spots you wrapped up in a large coat he’d worn on a date with you last week. it engulfs you as you snuggle deeper into its depths.

he reaches out for you, pulling back your hair and cupping your cheek. there’s something both ravenous and adoring in his gaze as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. perhaps he’ll let you wear his clothing next time you need a little nap.

your name escapes his lips for a moment and your eyes flutter open. “z-zayne..!” you stutter out, sitting up quickly, “i didn’t realize you’d be back this early.”

“i am back on time,” he murmurs, bending down on a knee to meet your height on the bed. “i believe you are the one that lost track of time. doing the laundry, i see. did that coat give you a hard time?” the look on your face warms his heart as his arms reach under the coat to wrap around you.

"you're cold, aren't you?" xavier murmurs. a silvery autumnal breeze whirls past the two of you and another curious shiver curls down your back. xavier chuckles fondly, hand still enveloped in yours. it's likely the only thing providing you warmth save for the thin jacket you thought would do its job more properly.

"i'll be fine," you said quickly, "the apartment's just another block." your words don't exactly convince xavier. he pauses, dragging your hand back a bit to pull you into his chest. "i don't really have a use for my jacket right now anyways. how about you take it for now?" he says with a smile.

you avoid his gaze, unwilling to admit he might have been right earlier about the chilly weather. but you don't reject his offer when he slides his jacket off and wraps it around your shoulders. "there," he chuckles, "feel a little better?" you decide not to indulge a reply.

back at the apartment, you immediately float to the heater. xavier's sweater is still lovingly draped over your shoulders. his warmth remains despite everything. from the kitchen, xavier watches you wrap the sweater even tighter around you. it suits you.

a lingering smile tugs at his lips before you slide back over to him. "you can have it back now. i can grab one of my thicker jackets now," you say, though not exactly stripping it off yet. he shakes his head, tugging the sleeve slightly to pull you closer to him.

"i prefer if you keep it for now," he says with a gentle expression, "i had heard from someone that offering someone your jacket was a pleasant sign of affection." he pauses, admiring the way you're bundled tightly in his clothing. "i just wasn't sure how to bring it up..." then, he smiles knowingly. "i figured a nice walk out give me an idea."

#ੈ♡˳ aurora's writing #love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #xavier love and deepspace #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel fluff #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x y/n #love and deepspace zayne #zayne x mc #zayne fluff #love and deepspace xavier #xavier fluff #xavier x mc

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youryanderedaddy · 2 months

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Dark Is The Night

Summary: A late night encounter with a patroling soldier changes the trajectory of his life - and, unfortunately, yours too.

tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, non - consensual touching, threats, thoughts of non - con, mention of war, patronizing behavior, slight misogyny, hinted kidnapping

All he could think about was you.

It was a damp linden night, one of the very few old fashioned ones - as if time itself had stopped. The old colonel was laughing in short sharp breathes, skin spotting in red along with his sweaty neck, tearing into a letter he had received this very morning. The young soldiers were all over the tavern - some crying, some cheering over a beer and calling each glass their last, losing themselves in the rich foam that covered their fresh military mustaches. Christoph was alone, though.

He had no wife to write back to - no home to call his own, no friends or family to celebrate his final battle with. He also wasn't a rookie - so he couldn't drink himself blind in the pursuit of ideals, of empty promises of greatness to come. Truth was, his troops had won their fair share of battles, and today they had signed a treaty that would certainly benefit the district - the one he had lost his youth fighting for. He knew the capital would attempt at invasion, those greedy fucks wanted to bite more than they could chew - but that was no longer his problem. Today his contract ended. Today he was a free man.

And yet.

And yet all he could think about was you.

It was funny - he had spent more nights than he could remember wishing he could burn this half - dead village to the ground, all together with the maidens and the elderly still stick fending for themselves after the war. He presumed he'd be doing everyone a favor - he'd rid himself of the memories that haunted his dreams, and they wouldn't have to suffer any longer, not when all that winter would bring once again was even more hunger and decay.

After all, the victory changed nothing. The starving populace wouldn't starve anymore - it would simply die, having lost fathers, sons, daughters, farmers, merchants, healers. Nothing less than the very foundation of society. So maybe it would be far less cruel, far more humane, to burn everything and let them die with dignity.

But then you too would burn with the miserable souls of the damned. The man pictured it all - your beautiful skin still damp from the rain blistering in red and orange, and eventually black, those gems of yours trembling beneath your long eyelashes as the smoke swallowed your last breath.

The thought made Christoph irrationally angry - jealous even. Not only because he just imagined you dying, but because it was someone, something else stealing your final moment from him. Something else bruising your skin and forcing your lips to swell, something else causing you pain and suffering. No, he couldn't let you die. Not like this.

He couldn't help but recall your first meeting two years ago. Unbeknownst to you he had memorized it, citing each line by heart - envisioning it in his memory over and over each time he needed an escape, an outlet. The soldier wasn't one for softness, never one to dream and hope - but deep down he knew that this simple encounter had swayed the bullets. It had made him grip his rifle just a bit closer, made the biting wind just a bit warmer. He was a killing machine undeserving of humanity - yet you had saved him without even realizing it.

It was a cold winter night - quite opposite to this one, in the middle of Hell. The county your village was part of had been surrounded for a few weeks. Food was running low, and even clean water was scarce. All the men had been displaced a long time ago, sent off to fight in the eastern territories. Christoph was stuck at the Iron hills, a region so poor they didn't even bother to send additional armies to. If it lost, it lost. It held no special resources, no cultural or economic significance, no sea or forest roads to profit off of. All in all, no one wanted to serve here. No one but him.

Not that Christoph was too fond of the hills - it was more so that he didn't care where he was going to die. Whether it was on the eastern front, the western or even on the other side of the ocean, it didn't matter. And he had made peace with that fact - but before death took a toll on him, he was going to earn enough buck to buy good cigarettes for once in his miserable life. With real tobacco, none of that cheap imported trash they sold in his hometown.

And that's exactly how fate let him meet you. He was patrolling the border bridge late into the night - a thick cigar in hand (a parting gift from the general Murphy), humming to an old melody he couldn't quite remember the name of. He was alone that night - his friend had been injured so he needed to rest. The man was trying to stay alert, although the fatigue had long settled in between his tired bones and it refused to let go. The lack of sleep and the sheer paranoia was making him jumpy, ready to point his gun at the slightest of sound. He almost shot you that night.

"Colonel." You had whispered through gritted teeth, slowly raising your hands up as you approached him with a hesitant step. He blinked twice, unsure if he was still awake. Surely there was no way a young woman was out alone so late during wartime. "Colonel!" You repeated, putting a bit more force into your otherwise soft, calm voice. This seemed to snap him out of his trance and he finally raised his head to look at you, his sharp, intense gaze measuring you up from top to bottom. Just like a predator seizing his pray, like a soldier trained to keep his eyes on the target, he knew no other way to introduce himself other than with a silent, unspoken threat.

"A bit young to be calling me that, no?" The man snapped back, voice coming out more raspy than he intended - but it was hardly his fault. He rarely had visitors nowadays - no one wanted to expose themselves to the front lines, to risk becoming smoked meat, which meant he had little opportunity for chatter. So his voice had become rough - almost unnecessary cruel.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, blurry eyes focused on the weapon resting oh - so snuggly against the soldier's heart as if guarding it. "I'm not familiar with your many titles, sir." You explained with a certain bite. Christoph squinted, growing amused at your little jab, yet the black mask covering his mouth hid it from you. The man knew exactly what you meant. You were not used to so much surveillance on your step - on everyone's step, so many eyes set on you as if you had a massive red target on your back. You were not used to armed forces ghosting around your small homely village with a gun resting at an arm's length just waiting to be loaded.

He wondered if it was your first time running into a soldier since the beginning of the occupation. He wondered if you were scared - if your heart was beating against your chest like it was trying to break through the skin. After all he was indeed intimidating - with heavy combat boots and a black uniform that did little to hide his rough figure, the lineage of lean muscle and battered blistered skin that undoubtedly belonged to a man. A man whose hands were still covered in dirt and blood. He could kill you. He could push you around - get some entertainment out of you. He could shove you down and use you like a cheap village whore - and no one would care because that's just how war is. He was serving his country, he needed an outlet, and you just happened to be there. No one would blame him.

He couldn't bring himself to come closer to you. He didn't trust himself to hold back when faced with something so fragile after months of letting his fists and his teeth do the speaking.

"That's lieutenant to you, miss." He barked in a tone that felt familiar - a tone that used to wake him up every morning at 5 for weeks on end. A tone that he could still hear every time he loaded his rifle and let go of the trigger with shaking fingers.

He couldn't be nice to you. He couldn't be nice to anyone in this bloodshed. And yet he heard himself asking you for your name. It hadn't meant anything - it was a long night and he was bored. Lonely, maybe, he couldn't tell his feelings apart very well. You hesitated for a second too long before you finally gave him a clear answer. It was the most beautiful sound he had heard - not just now, but ever.

"Would you mind explaining why you're here so late, miss?" The man tilted his head, trying to understand your unreadable expression - somehow you looked lost in time, striken by fear and grievance. "I believe the general gave direct orders this morning. No one should be out after ten." He paused to take a long, dramatic puff off his cigar. "It's too dangerous. Especially for a pretty little thing like you to be roaming at night." He knew his boldness was making you uneasy, and that he shouldn't derive such obvious pleasure from your discomfort, but he just couldn't help it. He was lonely. He was sick. And most of all, he was a bastard who had already given up on life. He had nothing to lose.

"Truth be told, if you were mine I wouldn't let you out of sight, miss." He grinned, feeling just a bit disgusted with himself. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to scare you. To creep you out so bad you'd never go out alone again. Why he had got so invested so quickly, he also couldn't tell.

"I... I needed a breath of f-fresh air, l-leutenant." You responded quickly, eager to leave this conversation as soon as possible - completely ignoring anything he said. Your initial confidence had evaporated as the wet cold crept into your thin coat. It didn't fit your frame - it was too big on you and it reeked of a man's first proper cologne. The thought of it filled the soldier with unreasonable, hot -red fury, imagining you next to some nameless brat with his hands wrapped around you.

"That's all?" The corners of his lips stretched mockingly as he let his smoke blow into your face - and you had to fight the urge to immediately wave it off.

"Are you, are you implying something, sir?" You fiddled with your fingers nervously, looking anywhere but at Christoph. He found it pathetically adorable. "Just curious." He took another long puff - his breath coming out frozen - white as it hit the icy air. "You don't seem like the brave type to me." His eyes narrowed to two pitch black slits. He must have looked terrifying to you in that moment, and he loved it. "So just what-" He pulled you in by the collar. "Are you doing here, huh?"

You froze in place as if he had pointed his gun to you yet again. You swallowed loudly, trying to come up with an explanation - but nothing came to mind when you were so obviously scared. The soldier could feel your heartbeat - he could hear the blood pumping to your ears as you looked around hopelessly for help that wouldn't come. And just like that the wolf had the rabbit dancing in its own trap.

"Are you just looking for trouble, hmm?" The man reached in to curl his finger around one of your loose locks. He didn't want to make you feel so awfully small - but everything about this situation, from the tremble of your lips to the sheer panic in your eyes was going straight to his cock. "I'm sure that with a face like that you never lacked attention, no?" He tilted his head with predatory malice. "But now all the men bending over backwards for you are off somewhere, dying as we speak. Poor little you - I can imagine just how lonely you are." He pressed his body closer to yours. "The thing is, I am more than willing to play with you in their pl-"

"Please, lieutenant." You couldn't stand to listen to him any longer, a thousand warm pleas already falling off your desperate lips. "Please let me go." Your eyes softened, trying to hide the first sign of hot wet tears. "I need to go home to my siblings. I need to bring them fo-"

"Why should that matter to me, dollface?" It was his turn to interrupt you - voice full of childish glee as he kept up with his petty torment.

"Because - because," You started off, hands shaking into little fists that you knew, realistically, could do the soldiers no damage were you to push against his chest. "Because you're a good man." You mumbled after a while, looking for the right words to say. "And I know that deep down you're kind and brave. That's why you're here now, fighting for all our lives."

You were such a pretty liar, Christoph thought. He could listen to your sugary sweet fairytales all night long, silently praying that they'd become true if he was only able to capture his own little fairy - his own miracle.

"What if I am not the hero, doll?" The man whispered darkly in response, leaning against you until your back hit the tree behind you, trapping you between his stiff body and the pillar. "What if I am here for all the wrong reasons, huh? Just think about it." He lowered his head so it would match your eye level - you were so quiet he wondered if you had forgotten how to breath.

"We're in the middle of nowhere. I have a weapon and a direct permission to shoot at will. I can do whatever the fuck I want." He made sure you could hear every single word clearly. He wouldn't let you faint before he was through with you. "I can fuck you right here in the open - or I can drag you to the barracks and keep you there for as long as I need to. Do you really think anyone would care about some insignificant girl going missin-"

"Please." You repeated, suddenly getting stirn with your pleading, as if you too had nothing to lose. "Let me go - I'd do anything."

His eyes darkened - then lit up with sick, perverse desire. He wanted to echo your words back to you just like a classical villain would - to really drive the point across that he was out for blood. Anything, you say? Anything at all? But he couldn't contain his excitement enough to voice those sadistically banal thoughts. Besides, he could already feel the adrenaline running through his whole body. His heart was beating rhythmically, pumping and alive for the first time in days, weeks, months. He wanted you more than anything. It was that moment he knew he was going to live - he was going to fight and win, and then come back for you as a hero. As your hero, even if in your eyes he would be more of a villain.

A nightmare you'd try to forget - and just when you think you have erased his fingertips off your waist, your face, your neck, he'd come back to steal you away forever.

"Kiss me." Christoph all but snarled, some unfamiliar, needy - greedy ball of emotion settling into his loins as your delicate face twisted into a petrified grimace. You began trembling in his arms, looking around yet again. It was pitch black, no soul in sight. You inhaled deeply, trying to steady your movement to no avail. "A-alright. I-I..." You whispered with difficulty as if simply saying the words was causing you a great deal of pain. And maybe it was, but the soldier could care less. He already knew you were made for him - made to serve him, made to make him happy. "I'll d-do it."

The man growled in satisfaction, taking a small step back. You looked at him, puzzled - your confused face was just as cute as your scared one. He couldn't wait to explore all your reactions - the way you'd squirm and writhe underneath him as he fucked into you restlessly, filling you up with his love over and over again until you were crying for mercy. But that had to wait, he had a war to fight. For now he could settle for a little taste of you to keep him warm during the cold nights. And just like that he tapped his lips, guiding you silently. You felt your cheeks heat up once you finally understood what he meant by that. He wasn't going to kiss you. He wanted you to put in the work.

Your eyes filled up with tears, and you felt silly for becoming so upset over a little kiss - but this was your first kiss, and you had to give it to a monster. It was certainly better than the alternative, with the alternative being rape in a filthy military cottage, but it still made you feel dirty all over. Yet, you had no choice. You took a step towards the man - you could feel the suffocating warmth radiating off his body towards yours, and if the situation wasn't so grim, you might have been grateful for another human's heat in the freezing cold. But now all you could feel was dread.

You stood on your tip toes, a shaky hand reaching out to cup the stranger's face. Cristoph smirked, complecent at your obedience. You licked your lips and slowly, hesitantly pressed them against his, just barely touching at all.

He groaned, unable to keep his hands to himself any longer. He grabbed you and pulled you in roughly, squeezing you like a plush toy. He deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth, finding heaven between your soft, sweet lips and broken whimpers. You were so innocent. So lost. He wanted to take you into his arms and never let go. He wanted to keep kissing you until your lips turned blue, until it hurt to speak.

And then you pushed him off just like that, using your own body as a distraction. He tripped backwards, too shocked and lost in sensation to stop you. He smiled at your final act of defiance. It was, of course, adorable and so painfully you, yet it didn't really matter - not in the long run. You had only suceeded in making him want you more.

But that was two years ago. Now the war was finally over. Now he had enough to start a new life. Now he was a free man.

And he was coming back for you.

#yandere #yancore #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere soldier

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homestylehughes · 19 days

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forbidden love

pairing(s): nico hischier x fem!hughes sister

summary: what happens when they both want a love that's forbidden?

warnings: fluff, sooo much flufffff. nicos a cute little baby in this. shy, nervous and cute reader. use of pet names and y/n. cussing, implied smut 18+ intense makeout, nothing too heavy.

wc: 3.6k

an: hiiiiii loves!!! NICO FIC NICO FIC NICO FIC!!!! about damn time!! loveeee nico. hes so ?? to many words. i really enjoyed writing this. this is my first hughes sister story i've written, and i loveeee, hopefully you guys do too! i had trouble deciding if i should make this a cliffhanger or not... i kinda did but i think i want a part 2 if you guys want that!!! share your opinions, i love hearing them!! anyways i hope you enjoy, this might be my favorite piece yet. i hope you guys enjoy! like and reblog if you do, much love as always<3

happy reading <3

Nico knew he couldn't have you, but he wanted you anyway. Being Luke and Jack's older sister, made you off limits to anybody on the team, older or not. Nico had not always felt this way about you until recently.

Ever since Jack got drafted to the devils, and then luke, he started to see you at more fundraising events held by the devils, team outings whenever you were in town visiting. Stealing little glances at you when you were in the same room, being pulled in by your smile and how you moved your hands as you talked to anyone and everyone.

If that didn't already pull him into you even more, what did was, how you acted with the rest of the team treating all of the boys like they're our own family. Always greeting nico with a shy smile and hi, making conversation about anything, hockey related or not.

Nico was enhanced by you, but he couldn't have you, which brings you guys to this moment.

–

“Jack if you don't answer your phone, god help me” I yell shout out, as I call Jack for the 10th time in the span of 15 minutes. Already calling Luke’s phone around 30 times, still no answer. My hands are shaking as I type out random masses of texts to both of them.

So maybe taking an impromptu trip to see my brothers wasn't the best idea. living in vancouver had its perks, being close to Quinn was one of them but i missed my two younger brothers, or maybe i should say assholes since neither of them can answer their phones.

I'm standing outside their apartment soaked from head to toe, not thinking about the rain, nor was I thinking about the fact that they had moved, leaving me with no key to their place.

So I'm stuck, knowing there's nothing I can do. I pull my suitcase over to the wall, slowly and dramatically slide down the wall, letting out a deep sigh as I do. My phone is almost dead, I'm hungry, jetlagged, annoyed, cold, wet and so many other words right now.

Dropping my head into my arms that rest on my knees, deciding that this will be my final resting place, for tonight. I hear the elevator door ding open on the floor, not bothering to look up knowing it's neither jack or luke walking down the hall.

“y/n” I hear my voice with a thick accent say, knowing the voice I slowly lift my head up, locking eyes with the one and only Nico Hischier “Hi..” I mutter back embarrassed at the fact that look like a lost wet dog right now in front of him.

“Are you okay, did something happen?” he asks back as he begins to walk closer to me. “I uhh…wanted to surprise Jack and Luke but it seems like they aren't here.” i sign out, “to make it worse i don't have a key to their apartment, they're not answering my calls or texts. My phones almost dead and i'm covered in wet rain and i'm cold.'' I huff out the last part, my eyes beginning to fill with tears. I close my eyes quickly not wanting to look like a fool even more and cry in front of nico.

“Oh y/n”, expecting him to just stand there, instead he makes his way to me taking a seat on the ground next to me. "What are you doing nico?” I say, opening my eyes again, turning my head to lock my eyes with his. I get a good look at him for the first time since this, and fuck is he beatiful.

His deep voice snapping me out of my trance as he speaks, “sitting with you, what else does it look like.” he says followed with a soft chuckle. “Nico, you don't have to do that, I'm okay, you can go home, I'm sure you're tired.” instantly feeling bad he's wasting his night away with me out here.

“Jack and Luke would kill me if I left you out here by yourself”, “if I don't kill them myself” I say back my eyes now dropping back my feet. That earns a laugh from Nico, he has such a nice laugh, I think to myself. y/n, snap out of it and get it together.

Sitting up straighter, pulling my head to lean against the wall, mirroring nicos position. “Are you sure? You don't have too, i'm not even sure when they'll be back.'' I say looking at Nico, who's looking back at me. “Well I do have another idea,” he says, licking his lips before speaking again. “I live right down the hall, if you'd like you can stay with me until they come back.”

“Nico i can't do that, i feel bad”, “don't feel bad, i'm offering. I'm leaving you out here by yourself.” he repeated to me again. My heart picks up at his words. Taking a deep breath, I weigh my options in my head, knowing that this is probably the best option, but also my worst.

How am i going to survive with very, sweet, hot, sexy, nice, handsome, pretty, swiss caption of the new jersey devils, nico hischier? I'm probably not, but at least I'll die happy and not here.

“Okay, I'll come. Thank you so much nico.” I finally answered him, “dont worry about it, come on let's get you changed and warmed up i can't imagine how cold and tired you are” he says with a soft loving look on his face. Getting up before me, holding out his hand for me to grab, pulling me up from the floor. His hand feels so soft and warm in mine, I don't want to let go.

Pulling my hand out of Nico’s, I go to grab my suitcase, to follow him down the hall, before I can fully grab it Nico has it in his hands. “Nico..i can grab my own suitcase” “i know you can, but i want to do it, so i am” he says as he looks back at me smiling.

Ignoring how his smile made my whole body tingle, I sigh out and shake my head as a small smile breaks through on my lips, as I follow Nico down the hall.

Stopping at his place, only a few doors down from my brothers, popping in the key and turning the lock, quickly opening the door. He motions for me to go in first, I give him a small smile as I enter the apartment.

Taking in the place around me, pictures of his family and teammates over the walls, little nicnacs that fill the space, it feels like home. “Does my place give you your approval?” he says from behind me, “yes it does, jack and luke need to take a few home decor lessons from you.” that earns me another laugh from nico.

“Let me show you the guest bedroom” he says, leading me through the apartment, down a hall, opening a door which I assume is in the guest room. “Here's the guest room, hopefully it's okay and comfortable for you, I wasn't expecting anyone over anytime soon and i-” “Nico'' I say, cutting off his ramble. “It's perfect, thank you” I say walking in front of him, pulling him into a hug.

God, he smells so good. The way his warm body is wrapped around me like a warm blanket, I don't want to pull away, but I do after a few moments.

“You're welcome y/n” he says looking at me again, i can feel my heart beginning to heat up. Clearing his throat before looking away, “the bathroom is at the end of the hall, my room is at the beginning of the hall.” he says, while pointing in the direction. Nodding in understanding even though he can't see me.

“Feel free to shower and get changed, i'm going to head to the kitchen to start making dinner” he says now turning back to face me, “nicooo… you don't have to cook anything. You're already doing so much for me by letting me stay here, really”

“Now what kind of host would I be, if I let a pretty girl like you starve under my watch.” Nico replies with a teasing smile on his face. “A bad one i guess” I smile breaking through my face. “You called me pretty” I said again, my eyes never leaving his. “I did, because you are.” he says before walking out of the room, leaving me stunned.

“Do you have any special requests for dinner?” I hear him shout from the kitchen, popping my head out of the room, “no! Surprise me!” I replied.

This is dangerous, I can not think or find him attractive. He’s my brother's captain, teammate and also one of their closest friends. I have to keep it together.

I gather my things to take a shower, making my way to the bathroom, shutting the door and turning the shower on. I then work on peeling off my semi- wet clothes off my body, the relief filling my veins once they're finally off, finally making my way into the shower. The hot water relaxes my body instantly. Throughout the whole shower all of my thoughts are about Nico, and I'm going to act once I get out of here, making me nervous and feeling things. Things i shouldn't feel.

Turning off the shower, getting out and drying myself quickly. I began getting redressed again, clearing the mirror to take a look at myself, the old devils shirt i've had for god knows how long, that's probably three sizes too big, and shorts that you cant even see. Not bothering to pack pants, because I thought I would be staying with my brothers, not Nico.

Inserucies start to plague my mind but I push them down. brushing my hair, fixing my shirt, deciding that it's good enough. Grabbing my things before making my back to the guest bedroom. dropping off my things in the room before taking a deep breath making my way towards the kitchen.

Walking into the kitchen, nicos back is turned to me. A sight that I'm not complaining about seeing. The way his mussels are ripping through his shirt, is enough to make my mouth water. What I'm doing. Get it together.

Walking further into the kitchen, I get a better look at what he's cooking, pasta boiling the water and it looks like he's making a type of sauce. Smiling softly to myself, at how sweet he is.

“Do you need any help?” I say breaking the silence. Nico turned around quickly, a smile dancing on his face. “No, I'm okay, thank you though. How was your shower?” he asks before turning back to the stove again.

“It was good, thank you” I say, still standing awkwardly in the kitchen, not sure where to go or what to do. “I can feel your nerves from over here y/n.” nicos voice breaks through the kitchen as he speaks, “I'm sorry, I'm nervous.” I nervously laughed out loud. “Why?” Nico says as he circles his way around the counter leaning against it, in front of me.

“You make me nervous, I don't know how to act around you.'' I said truthfully to him, while looking in his eyes. “You make me nervous too, don't worry” he says as he looks me up and down, his gaze feels like summer sun on my skin, leaving trails of heat throughout my body.

“Dinner will be ready in 15 minutes, feel free to take a seat, or keep standing there checking me out. Either work for me” nico says to me, winking as he walks around the kitchen again. I'm frozen in place. What just happened? Is Nico flirting with me? The wink? Holy shit.

My mind and body are on fire, as I walk over to the island to sit down. Tension fills the air, I sit there for a few minutes trying to wrack my brain of something to say.

Nico beats me to it before I have the chance to open my mouth. “You look different” he says, back still turned towards me. “What do you mean by different? Is that a good or bad thing?”. “Not bad,” he replies now, turning to look at me, “just older, I'm not sure how to explain it, but you look good.”

“Thank you?” i say my cheeks are warming with blush. “You’re welcome” he hums back. “You look really good too” I say, Nico chuckles at me “shit, sorry. You look good like everything you know? Mussels, everything. I'm rambling, shit. this is embarrassing." I say, dropping my head into my hands with a groan.

“I found it cute, don't worry pretty girl.'' Turning around to get plates out of the cabinet. Pretty girl. Gosh he's making it harder to not go pounce on him right this second.

“Dinners done, are you ready to eat?” he says a few moments later, nodding my head at nico as he looks my way. Grabbing two plates filling them with the pasta he made , which looked so good. My stomach growling, reminding me how hungry I am.

Placing my plate in front of me, along with a glass of wine that I didn't even see him pour. “I think you might need this after today” he says justering to the wine, as he takes a seat next to me. “How'd you know?” I slowly laughed to him, “this food looks so good, nico. Thank you so much”

“You don't have to thank me, y/n but, you're very welcome.” he says to me. “Now eat, I heard your stomach growl in the kitchen.” he says in a teasing tone. My eyes widened, quickly grabbing my fork, and digging in. the flavors, melting on my tongue. I internally moan at the taste.”fuck this is so good” i say with a mouth half full. Forgetting Nico is right next to me, I'm quick to cover my mouth with my hand.

“I'm glad you enjoy it.” Nico says, smiling at me before taking another bite. Nico and I make small talk as we eat, talking about anything from hockey and my brothers to my job in Vancouver, and everything in between. Finding myself laughing and blushing more than I would have liked. Nicos charm pulled me in, and I couldn't find a care in me to stop falling for it.

“Thank you again for dinner nico” I say as he clears the plates. “Of course, not everyday I get to cook for thee, y/n hughes” “shut up” I laugh back at him.

“At least let me do those dishes, since you made dinner,” I say , making my way to the sink where Nico is standing. “No way, go sit back down,” Nico says, looking down at me. “I'm not taking no for an answer nico.” I say placing my hands on my hips, “fine, but I'll dry them.” he says, narrowing his eyes at me.

“I know why Jack and Luke say you're bossy”. “Hey now. I'm not that bossy, shut it” turning my body away from him as I speak. Turning on the sink, grabbing the sponge and soap, and began washing the plates in the sink.

Nico just chuckles in response. We began a system of wash, dry, wash dry. The silence is comfortable as we work in peace. It almost feels domestic? Something that I could get used to. y/n stop thinking about that. It will never happen.

“y/n” nico says snapping me out of my day dream, “hmm?” “You've been washing the same plate for the last 2 minutes. I'm pretty sure that it's clean ""oh!" I say looking down at the practically shiny plate in my hands, “here you go I'm sorry” handing him the plate, our hands grazing, making my heart rate speed up.

I have to get out of the kitchen, I say to myself. Turning off the water and drying my hands on the towel, stepping away from the sink, locking my eyes on my sock covered feet.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks me, raising my head to look at him. “Yes I'm okay, just tired,” I say softly. “I think I might head to bed, see if Jack or Luke responded to me or not.”

“Of course, feel free.” Nico says, while putting the dishes away. “Okay..thank you again for dinner, again. Goodnight.” I say as I make my way out of the kitchen, Nico following behind me. “Good night y/n.” he says to me with a small smile on his face, i smile in return and make my way to the guest room for the night.

Closing the door behind me, I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding in. making my way over to the phone to see that neither jack or luke have responded to me, a frown falling on my face. I call them each again, even sending Quinn a text asking if he's heard of them.

Locking my phone, setting it back on the bedside table, I pull back the blankets settling into the bed. Slowly sinking into the comfort of the bed, I can feel the effects of today hitting my body. My eyes slowly closing, the one thing crossing my mind is nico.

Just as I'm able to fully close my eyes, I hear a knock on the door. Getting out of bed, opening the door to see a now shirtless nico in sweatpants standing in front me. Hair messy, like he's been running his hand constantly through it.

“Everything okay, did you need something?” I ask him, trying to keep my eyes on his face only. “Everything is fine, yes” he replies to me quickly. “Are you sure?” I ask again, feeling like he hasn't told me the whole story yet.

“Can I do something?” He asks me if I can feel his eyes looking at my lips, “yes?” I say swallowing quickly. Nico takes a step more, until he's directly in front of me, his face a few inches from mine.

“I shouldn't want to kiss you y/n '' he begins, my breath hitching as he places both of his hands on my hips, his thumbs tracing small circles on them. “I shouldn't have these thoughts about you. Youre jack and lukes older sister, fuck i should be thinking about you like this.” he says now locking his eyes with mine.

“I can't help myself though, everything about you is perfect. I want you all to myself.” one of his hands begins tracing up my side, making its way to the side of my neck holding it place, lifting my head to meet his face better.

“I want you so bad. I can't have you though. You're like a forbidden fruit that i want to taste and kiss and love so bad but i can't have you, and it's killing me.” he finishes dropping his head lower to mine, our faces now only a few centimeters apart.

“Who says you can't have me?” I say softly, not trusting my voice, trailing my hands around his neck. “What if I want you too?” I whisper out before connecting our lips together.

Nico is quick to respond, pulling my body flush against his, our lips dancing together. His hand trailing down to my ass, grabbing a handful of it before pulling away, smiling at me, “I've wanted to do that all day” he smirked at me, before connecting our lips together again. His tongue enters my mouth as we fight for dominance, deciding to let Nico win.

I began to walk backwards towards the bed, hoping Nico would follow. Before I know it he's picking me up, throwing me over his shoulder, walking down the hallway and tossing me on the bed in his bedroom.

I look at the room around me, taking in every detail, before locking eyes with nico who's now looking at me from above. The way his chain dangles in my face, and his brown eyes look in the dimly lit room, and how his chest rises and falls is a sight I want to see forever and forever.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.” he smirks to me, “you're just so pretty” i say as i run my hands through his hair. “Isn't that something i'm supposed to say?” he asks as he begins to place soft kisses down my exposed neck.

“Maybe you could show me instead?” I say, pushing my lips to his again. His hands quickly fell underneath my shirt, tracing up my bare sides. I remove my hands from nicos hair, pushing myself up from the bed. Pulling off my shirt, throwing it somewhere behind us, clipping my bra, tossing it in the same direction as my shirt. Now leaving myself completely bare in front of nico besides my shorts.

Our chests are raising and falling together, our eyes locked. “y/n..” nico says to me breathlessly. “Fuck you’re so beautiful” his hands running along my bare sides and underneath my breasts. “Are you sure about this?” he asks me, our faces close together again, “i've never been so sure about anything in my life, Nico please touch me.” desperation in my voice dripping like honey.

A growl like noise rips through nico, as he reconnects our lips together again. His hands are everywhere, heat spreading all throughout my body. I feel him everywhere. I want him everywhere.

If he's a forbidden fruit, then why does it feel so good?

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #new jersey devils #nico hischer x reader #nh13 #nico hischier #njd #nico hischier smut

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deunmiu-dessie · 1 month

Text

(unedited) john price knew he would marry you the first time he saw you.

john price met you in the rain.

the memory of the encounter remains etched in his mind like a timeless portrait. as the years pass and his recollections fade, the moment of your first meeting remains vivid and unblemished.

the sky, a somber shade of ashen blue, was adorned with brooding clouds of a dark and furious pearl grey. thunder roared in the distance, while lightning ominously streaked across the sky. the rain, a gentle drizzle, tapped rhythmically on his freshly trimmed lawn and his parked truck. seated on his porch, cradling a cup of tea, john's loyal english mastiff, simply known as 'dog', slumbered beneath his chair.

he'd only had a few more days left until he was back in the field, and despite having needed a couple of days to rest, john was ready to get back to the familiarity of work- especially when there wasn't anyone waiting for him when he got home. ( well, besides 'dog' )

john had always been content with his own company, finding relief in the quiet moments spent with his loyal dog. the peacefulness that came with his aloneness had become a sanctuary, a place where he could escape from the disorder of the world and his position; and find solace in his thoughts. but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months and then further, john's heart began to yearn for something more.

the familiarity of being alone, once a source of comfort, now felt like a hefty weight on his shoulders. the emptiness that had once brought him peace now seemed suffocating, as if the walls of his home were closing in on him. he craved for a wife who would eagerly anticipate his return home from his weeks away, someone to hold close and shower with affection.

the stillness that had once brought him solace now echoed with a deep longing for intimacy. the sound of his footsteps seemed hollow, and the absence of life within the house filled the empty spaces of his home with a haunting void. john couldn't help but yearn for the day when his despondent home would be replaced with the joy of shared moments and the love of another.

he craved for the warmth of another's touch, the feeling of intertwined fingers and loving touches. he craved the sound of laughter filling the air, the kind that could only come from shared jokes and inside stories. john imagined the simple pleasures of cooking together, of sharing meals and conversations that stretched long into the night.

and despite himself, despite not wanting to feel anything. his heart ached for the intimacy of whispered secrets and stolen kisses, for the comfort of knowing that someone was there to catch him when he stumbled, unconditionally. he yearned for the simple pleasure of waking up next to someone, their presence a constant reminder that he was not alone anymore.

john price, for the first time in what felt like decades; craved for something more.

john's focus is abruptly interrupted by a thunderous slam, causing his weary eyes to shift from his tepid cup of tea. his piercing blue gaze fixates on the source of the commotion across the street. as he observes, his attention is captivated by you, and while being lost in his own melancholic thoughts, he realizes that the rain has intensified, pouring down relentlessly.

there you stand on your porch, engaged in a heated argument with a man. your gestures are animated, your lips downturned in a pained frown, and your brows knitted together in irritation.

the rain's melody drowns out all other sounds, leaving john in a world of silence from the conversation. yet, even amidst this deafening quiet, he cannot tear his gaze away from you, your eyes widening in disbelief as the man retreats into the house, slamming the door shut. price watches as you fish out a pair of car keys from your pocket, walking briskly down the porch stairs and to a car that sits in the driveway. you're immediately drenched in rain from head to toe and john finds that you still look breathtaking regardless.

inexplicably, the two of you lock eyes, and your lips pull into a thin line, your words barely audible over the pouring rain but he catches them nonetheless. "what the hell are you lookin' at?!" then you slip into the car and speed down the street before he can even process what he's heard. slowly a smirk pulls at his lips, the crowsfeet around his eyes deepening.

john price, wanted you.

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pucksandpower · 10 months

Text

Grid Kids: First Times

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: they know you’re their mom … you know they’re your kids … but these are the first times you all say so out loud

Series Masterlist

Max Verstappen: Champion of the World

The roar of the engines has faded, the race has ended, and the stands are filled with jubilant cheers. Among the sea of fans waving flags, the color of the Orange Army is predominant. Max Verstappen has just clinched his first World Championship.

As confetti rains down, Max climbs atop his car, soaking in the euphoria. His face displays a myriad of emotions: triumph … relief … elation. During the celebratory chaos, he searches for a familiar face, and as his eyes find yours, a calm settles over him.

As you approach, he jumps down and without a moment’s hesitation pulls you into a tight embrace. Over the din, he murmurs something almost inaudible.

“Thanks, Mom.”

You pull back, a bit taken aback. The weight of the single word isn’t lost on either of you. Max, ever the tough racer, has tears glistening in his eyes.

He clears his throat, trying to mask the emotion, “I mean, after everything, you’ve been like a second mom to me. I couldn’t have done it without your support.”

Sebastian joins the moment, a proud smile on his face. “Welcome to the champions’ club,” he jokes but the underlying pride in his voice is unmistakable.

You wipe away a tear, “I’ve always believed in you, Max. And no matter what, you’ll always be one of my grid kids.”

Charles Leclerc: What If

The race is intense, the energy palpable. But in a split second, the exhilaration turns to horror as Charles’ car careens off track, crashing into the barriers. The scene is chilling and the paddock holds its collective breath.

Time seems to stretch endlessly until, finally, the screens show Charles moving inside his cockpit. It's a sign — he's conscious. When he is carefully extricated from the wreckage and gives a thumbs-up to the cameras, relief washes over everyone.

As he is taken to the medical center, your grid kids gather, their usual playful banter replaced by anxious glances and silent support.

When you’re finally allowed to see Charles, his face is pale, eyes reflecting the trauma of the crash. Despite the bandages and evident pain, he manages a small smile upon seeing you.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

You lean over, brushing the hair from his forehead, your touch filled with motherly concern. “Hey yourself. You gave us all quite the scare.”

He swallows hard, gaze locking onto yours, vulnerability evident. “I thought ... for a moment there ... I thought I wouldn’t ...” he trails off, the gravity of the incident heavy in the room.

You take his hand, offering comfort and strength. “But you’re here, Charles. You’re here.”

He nods, tears forming. And then, in a voice filled with raw emotion, he murmurs, “Thank you, Mom.”

The title that slips out isn’t one of blood or birth but of bond and heart.

You squeeze his hand, “Always, Charles. Always.”

Lance Stroll: Who Needs Wrists Anyway?

After Sebastian’s retirement, life quiets down somewhat. The raucous race weekends are replaced with peaceful moments gardening and beekeeping. But the bond with your grid kids remains as strong as ever.

One evening, a call disturbs the calm. Lance had taken a hard fall while biking and had broken both his wrists. The news shakes you, memories of crashes flooding back. Without hesitation, you pack a bag and book the next flight out to be by his side.

When you enter Lance’s room, you're struck by the sight before you. Both his hands are in casts, his usually playful eyes clouded with pain and frustration. However, seeing you brings a faint smile to his face.

“You didn’t have to come,” he starts, though the gratefulness in his tone betrays him.

You chuckle, pulling a chair beside his bed, “How could I not? I can’t let you starve or wear the same clothes for weeks.”

Lance laughs, “Well, there’s always the option of going commando.”

You both chat, the room filled with light-hearted banter in an attempt to lift the mood. As you prepare to leave for the night after ensuring he is comfortable and has everything he needs, Lance’s voice halts you.

“You know,” he starts, hesitating, “Even after Seb retired, you still ... you’re still here for us, for me. It means a lot.”

You turn back, smiling gently. “Once a family, always a family.”

He swallows, emotion causing his voice to waver, “Thanks, Mom.”

You reach out to squeeze his arm in comfort but remember the reason for your visit. Pulling back before you could hurt Lance, you say, “Get some rest. We’ve got a lot of healing to do.”

George Russell: King of PowerPoint

The rookies sit in the dim room, fidgeting in their chairs, their faces a mix of excitement and nervousness. They’re about to receive their initiation presentation by none other than George Russell, now the Director of the GPDA — an annual tradition to welcome the new drivers, give them insights into the world of F1, and ensure they understand the guidelines, all while keeping it light and enjoyable. It’s also an excuse to give a PowerPoint … and George never turns down an opportunity to put his prowess to good use.

George steps up to the podium, clicking the remote to begin his presentation. The slides cover everything from safety protocols to media interactions. But then, a slide pops up with a familiar face on the screen: yours.

The title reads: “The Heart of Our F1 Family”

George pauses, taking a deep breath. “Now, for those of you new to Formula 1, there’s someone you need to know, someone who has been instrumental for many of us drivers, both on and off the track.”

He clicks to the next slide, showcasing a larger image of you, radiant in the middle of a race weekend while giving one of your famous pep talks to the grid kids.

“This,” George says, voice filled with warmth, “is Y/N Vettel. To the world, she’s known for her contributions to the sport, her philanthropy, and so much more. But to many of us drivers,” he glances at the familiar faces of the other grid kids sitting at the back, “she’s known simply as Mom.”

There’s a hushed silence, the emotional weight of the moment evident.

“She’s our anchor, our guiding light, and sometimes,” George grins, “our stern disciplinarian. If you ever find yourselves needing advice or just someone to talk to, you know where to turn. Welcome to Formula 1!”

Lando Norris: Stream and Shout

Lando is live on Twitch, engaging with thousands upon thousands of fans from around the world while deeply engrossed in a racing simulation game — swerving, overtaking, and trying to claim the top spot. Along with the intense gaming, he’s also juggling questions from fans.

“Hey Lando, any tips for new racers?” one fan asks.

“Just keep training, mate. And don’t get disheartened by failures,” Lando replies, narrowly avoiding a virtual crash.

Another question pops up in the chat, “Who’s been your biggest supporter in F1?”

Lando doesn’t hesitate. “Well, there’s my team, my family, and of course,” he pauses as he navigates a tricky turn on his screen, “there’s Y/N. She is ... well, she’s like a mom to many of us on the grid. Actually,” he corrects himself with a grin, leaning closer to the mic, “She IS mom.”

Fans catch on quickly, and the chat floods with comments.

“Mom? That’s so sweet!”

“Tell us more about her!”

Lando chuckles, “She’s just ... amazing. Always there, always supportive. We’ve had our fair share of fun, chaos, and love. If you’re ever around the paddock, you’ll know. Y/N is magnetic in the best way.”

Mick Schumacher: Drunken Adoration

The end-of-season party is in full swing. It is a tradition where everyone lets loose by either celebrating their successes or shrugging off the stress of the competitive year. The atmosphere is electric with loud music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.

Mick has perhaps indulged a bit too much. His usually composed and calm demeanor is replaced with a giddy, slightly wobbly version of himself.

As you navigate through the crowd, ensuring everyone was having a good time and not getting into too much trouble, you find Mick seated at the bar, a glass of something strong in his hand.

“Hey!” you call out, approaching him, “Having fun?”

Mick turns, his eyes slightly glazed but recognizing you instantly. A wide smile spreads across his face, “Hey! You know, you’re really awesome.” He slurs, the alcohol evident in his speech.

Laughing, you reply, “Thanks, Mick. Maybe we should switch to water now?”

He shakes his head, trying to focus. “No, no, you don’t get it. You’re not just awesome. You’re ... you’re like ... my mom. Like, a second mom. But also the first because you’re always there and ... you get it, right?”

You chuckle, moved by his inebriated but sincere confession. “I get it, Mick. And thank you. That means a lot.”

Helping him off the stool, you decide it’s time to get him some coffee and maybe a sandwich. “Come on, let’s sober you up a bit.”

As you lead him away, Mick continues to mumble about how great you are, his drunken words filled with genuine affection.

The party continues but for you, that heartfelt albeit tipsy confession is the highlight of the evening.

You: Sons and Spotlights

It’s a grand evening and the room glistens with opulence. Influential personalities from various fields gather, all in the name of charity and giving back. The annual International Philanthropy Awards Gala is an event where the most generous hearts are recognized, and this year, you’re among the honorees.

As you take the stage to accept the award for your contributions to various charities, the spotlight shines brightly but among the crowd, you spot familiar faces — Charles, Max, Lando, Mick, George, and Lance sitting next to your husband. Their presence is unexpected but deeply touching

You begin your speech, gratitude evident in every word, “Giving back is a principle I have always lived by. We are blessed in so many ways and it’s our duty to share those blessings with others.” As you continue, mentioning the various charities and initiatives you work with, an overwhelming wave of emotion grips you.

Taking a moment to compose yourself, you glance once more at your grid kids and say, “I have had many titles over the years — friend, daughter, wife — but one that has been among the most precious to me is simply being Mom.”

The room seems to hold its collective breath.

“These young men,” you continue, gesturing towards them, “are my sons in every way that matters. Not by birth but by bond. Charles, Max, George, Lando, Mick, and Lance are my source of strength, joy, and sometimes, a bit of frustration,” you add with a twinkle in your eye, causing a ripple of laughter.

“But more than anything, they are my family. And tonight, in this room filled with so many esteemed individuals, I want to take a moment to thank my sons. For their love, for their constant support, and for making me the best possible version of myself.”

As applause fills the room, your grid kids stand, pride evident in their glassy eyes that mirror your own, joining the crowd in honoring you. They might be champions on the track, but off it, they are just sons, celebrating their mom.

Bonus: A Family Holiday

Mother’s Day arrives and you wake to find a beautiful bouquet of flowers on your doorstep accompanied by a heartfelt note that reads:

For the woman who has been a mother to us all.

Touched by the gesture, you make your way to the living room. As you enter, warm smiles greet you and the scent of a homemade breakfast wafts through the air.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” your grid kids chorus, raising their glasses.

Max grins, “We know you’re not our biological mom but you’ve definitely earned the title.”

Charles, holding a tray with a stack of pancakes, adds, “We couldn’t ask for a better mentor and friend.”

Lance, with a card in hand, steps forward, “And we wanted to show our appreciation.”

You take the card, and as you read, your heart swells. It’s filled with their personal messages, anecdotes, and memories — marking the journey you’ve all shared.

George, holds out a gift bag with a sheepish grin, “We thought you might like this.”

Inside the bag is a beautiful necklace with six interconnected rings, each representing one of your grid kids. It symbolizes the bond you share, a connection as unbreakable as those rings.

Tears well up in your eyes, “This ... this is so thoughtful.”

Mick smiles softly, “You’ve always been there, through everything. This is just a small token of our gratitude.”

You pull them all into a group hug, the love and warmth radiating through the room. “Thank you, my sons. This means the world to me.”

And as you all sit down to enjoy the homemade (only slightly charred) breakfast, the simple yet emotional celebration of Mother's Day reminds you that family isn’t just about blood ties. It’s about the connections forged through shared experiences, tireless support, and love that transcends convention.

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lunarw0rks · 9 months

Note

can you write something about reader using their safe word for the first time with ghost?

getting surprised at how easily he changes from rough sex to sweet aftercare to make sure he's partner is okay

₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧ safe-word // simon riley

warning(s): nsfw + sfw, established relationship, smut/fluff, shower sex, hurt/comfort, gn!reader word count: 1.1k ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ───have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

You don't know why or when exactly the pleasure turned into pain, but you found yourself in a conflicted frenzy.

Your back pressed against the shower wall, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as Simon thrusted into you at a relentless pace. One of his hands remained glued to your waist, digging into your soft flesh with intensity. His other was behind your head, protecting it from hitting the tile every time you clashed against it with every plunge of his length.

He was usually so attentive, noticing every slight change in your demeanor even outside of intimacy. Sometimes, he's so concerned he'll mistake your moans of pleasure for refusal and stop completely, to your dismay.

However, Simon had yet to stop.

The shower head was too noisy, or perhaps he really lost that side of him whilst being so rough with you. Though, you had heavy doubts about the second hypothetical. Never would he intentionally harm you or continue on when you were so tense.

His touch wasn't comforting anymore, it was suffocating. Every groan into your ear, his thrusts becoming unwelcome by your stressed body.

In his defense, your gasps really could be misinterpreted. "Simon." It sounded like praise instead of a refusal — and your futile protest was drowned by the rain of the shower and bathroom fan. With every fleeting moment, you felt a rumble of discomfort build. Tears fell down your cheeks, spilling down his wet skin while you hid in the crook of his neck. Choked blubbers grew louder as you tried and failed to draw in proper breaths.

Then, came your saving grace. The safe word you had yet to use tonight, or ever with Simon. It was necessary, preferable over taking the unpleasant encounter and feeling horrible for not speaking up. And frankly, it would break Simon if you didn't voice your discomforts; he may never touch you again, and probably would feel as though he really was a cruel man. That man you spent so long convincing him he wasn't.

"Red." You blurted, feeling your lips tremble intensely.

At the speed of light, his ruts ceased. Nothing. Silence, except for the patter of the droplets around the two of you. From grunting to complete and utter silence — yet it was the loudest moment of your life.

Simon pulled back, dropping one of your legs but keeping the other secured around him for stability. Finally, he could get a look at your flushed and troubled expression. The unmistakable expression of distress; one he had only ever seen on you in other contexts. It chilled him to the core and made him feel like a barbarian for not noticing sooner. How long had you writhed? How long had he carried on like an idiot, mistaking your complaints for reciprocation?

"Did I hurt you? Are you hurt?" His series of questions were masked with deep breaths and a widened expression. Your silence made him withdraw from you completely, putting a supportive hand on your warm cheek. "Talk to me, love. Please."

You weren't mute from the pain, nor the fussing on his end. Merely the shock of how much his demeanor changed. From dominance to tenderness at the drop of the hat. Or more so, the utterance of a single word.

Quickly, you shook your head to answer his initial questions, snapping out of your stew. "No, Simon. It's not—" You stammered between reassuring touches, ones he refused to pay attention to until he was sure you were sound. "I just... It was too much, I'm sorry, Si."

Simon's face visibly cringed, hands roaming over your skin, grasping at your wrists with gentle nature. "Don't apologize. This is all on me, alright?" He replied in an alarmed slur, then your face had been pushed against his chest.

His broad chest, arms capable of snapping you in two, now cradling your body as if it was made of glass. Your palms slid up his back, returning that same tenderness to assure him of your safety. It wasn't pain because of his carelessness, nor was it the rough nature. He had done it before with no issue. Tonight's cards just weren't stacked right, bound to tumble from the start.

There was no blame to be had for either of you. Merely a hitch in the evening, and you wanted it treated as such. Though, you knew by now that convincing him of that would be a prolonged, tedious task.

Right now, all you had were reassurances that sounded pathetic amidst your trembles. "It's not your fault." You mumbled against his chest, anxieties put to ease at the caress of his calloused hand up and down the nape of your neck.

He quickly shushed you, pressing his lips to your drenched head of hair. A silent way of urging you to keep your mouth shut — but in his own blunt way.

In the following moments, he let his hands roam and massage the bits of flesh that took the brunt of his force. The indents on your hips, the patch on your shoulder blades irritated from clashing with the shower wall, all of it. The sizzling water was used to figuratively wash away his misjudgments, relaxing the muscles once over-exerted and sore.

Once he turned the knob to stop the water, he tied a towel around his waist, retrieving the fresh one he set out for you while the water was still heating up several minutes ago. Without once making eye contact, he unfolded the linen, then was running it along your dripping skin, drying every last bit to ensure you were comfortable before dressed.

With some silent convincing, you nodded, allowing him to step out and let you hold the towel around yourself. You weren't defenseless because you uttered a safe word, he knew that. But you weren't going to brush this off, either. No chance.

The drawer of your dresser scraped shut when you followed him into the bedroom, revealing your favorite pair of sweatpants. Next, one of his many black tees soon slipped over your fleshly cleaned body. You were no longer suffocated or plagued with unease, nor did you want the release you were craving moments ago. Your only desire was his presence, that safe feeling his existence gave you.

Before you settled on the bed, he cupped your cheeks, pressing his forehead against your own. "Tell me again." Simon pleaded with intense softness.

"I'm alright, Simon. Promise." A futile smile formed, clenching your eyes shut briefly with a defeated nod. You had repeated it a hundred times, it seemed. But you wouldn't take back or fib through any one of them. It was the truth— the reassurance he craved.

Softly, he scoffed at your cheesy proclamation. "Promise it, huh?"

"Promise it."

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 6 months

Note

Hey could I please get #8 and #12 with coriolanus snow please? (even better if he's a little bit insane as long as he ends up happy with Y/N at the end)- thanks so much :))

-E

‘’If I ask you to kiss me, to be with me, in front of all these people, will you do it?’’ + ‘’I did this for you! Everything I’ve done has been for you!’’

I've been getting requests for Peeta, but I'm not - and will not be -writing for him. I never fell for him in the movies 🫣

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You couldn’t remember how the situation got so heated, but one moment you were laughing and having a good time inside the Hob bar and the next you and Coriolanus were yelling at each other. To add drama and theatrics to the scene, it was pouring rain.

‘’I did this for you! Everything I’ve done has been for you!’’ he shouted, his pretty eyes filled with anger.

You halted in the wet street and looked back at him, your wet hair clinging on your body. ‘’But I never asked anything from you!’’ you shot back, sick of hearing the same speech. ‘’I never asked you to come to my district and find me after the games.’’

‘’So you’d rather I did not?’’ he retorted with an arrogant edge.

You shook your head. ‘’That’s not what I said.’’

You had never smiled wider than the night you saw Coriolanus in the street with Sejanus. His blond hair was no longer, all buzzed like the other peacekeepers. His decision to bribe the commander to serve as a peacekeeper in your district was a high risk, but the happiness it brought you outweighed the danger.

His jaw tensed, raindrops rolling down his face like unshed tears. ‘’I risked everything for you! For us. Is it not enough?’’

Your frustration echoed in the relentless rain, wishing he would get why you were upset without you having to explain it to him. But he was a man. Men never understand why these small things matter, why they can be hurtful.

‘’We were having a drink with friends and you…you dropped my fucking hand! It’s like you don’t want to be seen with me. We’re not at the Capitol anymore, Coryo. We’re allowed to be together.’’

‘’Peacekeepers are not allowed to have a woman while serving. I could get in trouble if someone told about us to my commander.’’

A bitter laugh escaped you at his cowardly answer, lost in the drumming of rain on pavement. Where was the man you met in the Capitol who crossed rules left and right to get his ways?

‘’Since when are you following the laws?’’

Coriolanus stayed quiet, your question left unanswered.

You took a few steps toward him, trying to ignore how hot he looked drenched in rainwater by lowering your eyes on the buttons of his blue button-up shirt. All night inside the Hob, you had been thinking about the time you’ll go home and get to have him to yourself.

And now here you were, fighting in the street…

‘’You think these men stay celibate for their twenty years of serving?’’ you asked, pointing back to the bar. ‘’Don’t be a fool.’’

‘’It’s different for us. I was your mentor. If it gets to the Capitol’s ears that you and I found our way to each other, I will be dispatched to another district or worse, we’ll both get hu—’’

You interrupted him with a scoff. ‘’You think anyone in there is gonna snitch on us? These people have no idea who you are, besides that you are a peacekeeper. And even if they did, they don’t care. You could have a hand under my skirt under one of the tables and they wouldn’t even notice. They’re just here to listen to music and have a drink and dance.’’

Your words were a stretch, but you needed to prove your point with something that would get a reaction out of him.

Something shifted in Coriolanus’s eyes. He reached for you, grabbing your arm in a rough grip and pulling you close to him. ‘’I’d never share you with these men,’’ he growled between you, his jaw tight.

‘’If I’m yours, then show them,’’ you challenged, daring as you looked into his eyes. ‘’If I ask you to kiss me, to be with me, in front of all these people, will you do it?’’ you asked, raindrops clinging to your lashes. ‘’I’m not asking for much, Coryo,’’ you continued, your voice a mix of frustration and longing. ‘’I just want you to be with me. If you can’t give me that, then you made a mistake coming here.’’

The world seemed to pause, the only sound being the raindrops hitting the ground and turning it into mud.

Coriolanus opened his mouth to speak, igniting a small glint of hope in your eyes.

A part of him will always be scared that you’ll be separated again, but he wasn’t going to lose the love of his life because he was scared of losing you.

—

Hunger games / BOASAS taglist: @crossyourmindrights @ziggyneedsabreak @folkloreshorts @runningfrom2am @soulessien @itzfckingreal @creedsofapollo

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @grxnde-dwt @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis@Shasta89 @sierraluvz @specialk6802 @CZARINERA @katherinejess

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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n0tamused · 2 months

Text

'Please cannot fix'

Content: angst, character death, gn reader, possible grammar mistakes

Words: 1167

A/N: to that one person said I wouldn't do it - here you go. Suffer with me now.

Once mighty and flamboyant Galaxy Ranger, now nothing but a desperate pile in the mud. The rain hails down onto him like acid, unrelenting as it bashes his back and makes him sink further into the ground. BootHill’s breath is heavy and ragged as he has long lost his voice, crying out to you to keep awake, to hold on until you’re both back at the base, he has already contacted a doctor through a built in radio - why didn’t you listen?

Leftover footprints had long since been washed away, eradicating the proof of his attempts at keeping you alive, as if he never tried.

You had pleaded with him to slow down, he was jostling you too much, doing too much, and you never saw him this panicked. His eyes could barely handle looking at the red gushing out of your wounds and onto the cold iron of his body. He didn’t listen, and kept going, his feet leaping and swallowing the ground under him with sloppy expertise, kicking up rocks and mud before it could stick to him. One of his hands mussed up your nape, patting the skin and pushing your head closer against him until he could feel your breath on his actual skin - on what little he had to feel with. “Just a little more, sugar-” he’d say, turn after turn, thunder growling behind him. Moments feel like minutes, and he swears he can run faster, but he can’t -

“BootHill, stop-!” he froze, his eyes escaping whatever daze his mind spun him into, darting to look at your begging ones. Tears or rain, it made your nose red and your lips quivered with the weight of your words. “Let me go..” You breathed it out, cupping his cheek and turning him to face you, forcing him to feel the fleeting warmth of your palm, it prevented him from running. However, he doesn’t stop moving, he consciously, simply cannot, and for once his artificial body agrees with his organic one; and neither listens to your wishes for him to stop carrying you. “I-I can’t- are you crazy?!” he blurts out sharply, but his face betrays the anger of his tone, his eyes, as wide as yours, show the man crazed with fear of losing something precious beyond life itself.

“No, no, move yer hands away, I can’t see” he grumbles with a tangible tension in his jaw, shaking his head, flicking raindrops from the tips of his hair.

“Please..BootHill..I don’t want this sight to be my last-! Please, put me down” you argued, lungs feeling heavy and full of holes that let the rain in. They burned for life, for air, they sought to be engulfed in warmth of the space ship once more, to breathe in the metallic scent that fill the room as BootHill cleaned his iron from the rain. Just once more. But you knew such a future was only a dream behind your heavy lidded eyes that were harder to pry apart every blink. “Please..just hold me..” you muttered with defeat in your tone, and perhaps it was that which stopped BootHill at long last, or the sight of the bridge that had been split and broken before him, with the raging wide river threatening to swallow the earth itself around it.

He slowly lowered himself to the ground, you in his lap, and his eyes bubbling up with what you could call tears. Translucent blue in color and greasy in texture, his tears fell for you. One metal and freezing hand goes on top of the biggest wound on your torso, pushing down to stop the bleeding.

BootHill never felt more hopeless and useless than he did now. He tried and failed. And most heartbreaking of all, he didn’t protect you when he needed to. When he should have.

The rain fell harder after that. Your body absorbede the cold of it and grew heavier in his lap.

The wind howled over his head and went right through him too.

…..

Your face was the palest he had ever seen.

Your lips blue.

Eyes shut.

Hair slicked back with how many times he ran his fingers through it, keeping it from your face. Keeping you tidy.

You were limp and heavy, and you were still.. whole, as whole as you could be. He had cried all the tears he had within him, and he struggled to breathe for even longer. Feeling raw and more human than he did even before being turned into this walking machinery.

You had held his face, and you apologized to him, and asked him to smile, you asked him to deliver you one more charming line - and he failed you in that too.

….

The silence was unbearable, and the cacophony even worse. Now, in the confined space of his ship, he cracked his voice raw open as he glared at the little hologram of the doctor that turned him into this walking tin can.

BootHill couldn’t stand the sound of his own voice that fluctuated higher with the flare of his anger, every sentence more distraught than the last. It got to the point the Doctor on the receiving end had gone silent as a grave, realizing the futility of trying to speak over BootHill.

‘Bring them back’, he pleaded, hovering over the hologram, making himself feel greater, stronger, and more in control.

‘If you could turn me into this with just ma head alone, you can help them as well!’ he argued, teeth grit together and showing off their points. Like a cornered dog he clawed and bit and held the last pieces of hope in his maw. ‘They’re whole, jus’ a few scratches-’ he added in haste, and the doctor began shaking his head.

‘Please, Doctor, you’ve gotta’ he stared at the flickering hologram, feeling something akin to acid rise in his throat, sick at the thought of denial. No, he wouldn’t give up on you. ‘Why not?! Because they’re not as loud as I am?! What is the reason?!’. He tried to argue and reason with the other man, and when he ran out of reasons he began to repeat the ones he already mentioned.

‘WHY NOT YOU IDIOT?!’ he shouted, now on his knees before the system table in front of him, the hologram now looking much larger than his own figure. His elbows still rested on the table and he felt like strangling the man in front of him through the hologram itself.

He could see the Doctor’s face fall, disappointed at best. And he heard him sigh.

“BootHill. I can’t do it, and I won’t try it.”

The hologram flickered, and then went out, allowing the dark of the spaceship to swallow him whole. Trickles of oil began to seep through cracks in his metalwork, and more of his tears began to bubble up in his eyes. Like claws, his hands fell over his face, muffling a choked cry of anguish.

-Tags: @prettyliliy @nvuy @lofasofabread @teanypaws @molotto

(I just tagged everyone who showed interest when I talked about this idea, pls lemme know if you don't want the tag/want to be removed from the post <3)

#boothill x reader #boothill x you #boothill x gn reader #boothill x y/n #boothill #boothill hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #angst #-n0tamused.angst #honkai star rail imagines #boothill imagines #drabble

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lordprettyflackotara · 3 months

Text

affection || sam golbach

smut 18+, minors dni

part two is here

the finale is here

Sam Golbach knew you were a bad idea. He knew it from the moment Colby drunkenly brought you home on his arm.

Sam had hoped you would be a one night stand for Colby, something that was common for his best friend.

But you weren’t.

You and Colby were stuck like glue, and Sam never had a moment of peace once you joined their lives.

It always amazed him that you were able to keep up with their fast paced lives, always making time in your own business schedule for their adventures.

Whether it was flying to Boston or going to Waffle House at one am, you never minded going.

And Sam grew to resent that.

Even when he was with Kat, she was often more hesitant. Sam knew no matter how much he adored Kat, she wanted to settle down.

No matter how much in denial Sam was, he just wasn’t ready for that.

Yet you, his best friends girlfriend, were more than Sam could’ve ever hoped for.

But you just weren’t his.

It took a year or so before Colby got bored. Sam watched it happen, ever so slowly. The way his gaze shifted to the waitresses at the restaurants they went to. Or the way he watched him slyly respond to other girls instagram dms. Sam was convinced he noticed Colby’s shift in behavior sooner than you did.

Then the fighting started. You two rarely ever fought, and Sam could hear every last word.

You had a hard time handling your emotions, admittedly feeling insane as Colby denied your allegations. But you noticed it all. The way his hand left yours quicker. The way he hid his phone more. Your sex life declining.

You often found yourself envying Sam and Kat, who seemed to have the perfect relationship to you. She was excited to ghost hunt with the boys. You knew she wanted Sam to settle down quicker and you applauded her tolerance to his hesitation. You overheard her moans overpowering the sound of the shower her and Sam were sharing one time, heat of embarrassment washing over you.

Yet, you found yourself envying her position. At that point Colby barely touched you anymore, constantly on his phone. You wished you were in her place, Sam abusing your cervix as you begged for more.

Sam and Kat broke up first. Sam knew it was coming, like the smell of rain settling into the air. It was a messy breakup, the two of them having a very public relationship. You weren’t a content creator, and even as Sam tried to dry his puffy eyes, he wished Kat weren’t either. It would’ve made things so much more simplistic if she had been just like you.

Colby was almost entirely absent from your life once Sam and Kat broke up. You found yourself resenting Sam and yearning for his attention more and more as time went on.

His absence resulted in your break up. Thats what Colby would contribute it to, anyways. You’d debate he lost interest in you. As you packed your suitcases, Sam watching you from a far. He envied the way you maintained a poker face. You weren’t a babbling, incoherent mess. Instead, you stood poised and unbothered. Colby was talking to you about items you both possessed. If Sam couldn’t hear him, he would’ve never guessed. Your face sat still and unnerved, as if Colby was discussing the weather.

It was storming when you packed up your car and left. You had never officially moved in, unlike Kat. Another thing Sam envied. You slammed the trunk of your car down, fat raindrops embedding themselves onto your clothes and skin. Sam sat perched beside his window, watching you curiously.

Even in the security of being alone, you hadn’t cried a single tear. You felt Sam’s gaze on you, your eyes curiously meeting his. You weren’t sure why he was watching you, your hair becoming soaking wet from the unrelenting weather. In a simple, yet bold move, you waved. Sam, hesitantly, waved back.

If Sam had known that would’ve triggered the following events for the next six months, he would’ve slammed the curtains shut.

You were nervous to text him first, your brain racking itself to figure out a logical reason to reach out to your ex’s best friend. After all, you only had his number to previously communicate about Colby. Yet now, you were searching for reasons to see his best friend.

Asking Sam to deliver an old hoodie you didn’t want was all it took. Sam was more than happy to deliver it, conveniently forgetting to mention it to Colby. It resulted in a long entanglement neither of you could shake.

Sam never fully recovered from his break up with Kat, just like you never fully recovered from your break up with Colby. Sam wished Kat had been like you, just like you prayed Colby would act more like Sam. You found yourself craving each other’s attention, satisfying the sick parts of yourself that desired affection. Even if that affection was twisted and wrong.

It made your skin crawl when you thought about how badly it would hurt Colby if he ever found out.

Sam couldn’t stand to think about it.

But guilt took a backseat when it came to your infatuation with one another.

It didn’t take long for feelings to develop, your mind becoming more occupied of Sam’s well being rather than his cock fucking your brains out. Sam came by on random evenings, whenever he wasn’t restricted by work. And lucky for you, tonight was one of those nights.

Sam opened your front door, the key to your place having grown well adjusted to his key ring. You were ready to greet him, staring up at him as he walked inside. He closed the door behind him, his hands finding your waist with ease.

“Took you long enough,” You teased, noting his tardiness. Sam rolled his eyes, letting out a small chuckle. “We found some great evidence, just so you know,” He debated, nuzzling his face closer to yours. You giggled, Sam pressing your back against the closest wall. Neither of you needed to look, this meeting practically routine. “Did you mention to the ghost they were cock blocking you?” You whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

Sam was so close to kissing you, the tension growing thicker with every passing second. “No, I was too occupied imagining destroying your cunt to think of that,” Sam mumbled. His veiny hands snaked down to your ass, grabbing the flesh harshly. A soft groan escaped your lips, your cheeks flushing red. “Yeah? You’re such an asshole you know. Fantasizing about your best friend’s ex girlfriend right in front of him,” You whispered.

Sam brought his lips harshly to yours, knocking the air out of your lungs. Nothing about his touch was ever gentle, his neediness trumpeting over worry of your wellbeing. A safe word was something developed in the beginning stages of your affair. Sam also knew your body like the back of your hand, he knew what you could handle. Your arms snaked their way around his neck, your lips fighting against his. “If I had it my way, i’d fuck you right in front of him too,” Sam growled, his lips refusing to stray from yours.

Your hips involuntarily bucked forward, his bulge growing faster by the second. Sam smirked, his hand slithering its way around your body. He cupped your heat, your thin shorts and panties restricting him from complete access to your cunt. “You like that idea, don’t you? Me ruining you better than he ever could,” Sam groaned, pressing against your clothed cunt. You craved more friction, your body craving him. You pulled away from his hungry lips, nuzzling yourself in his neck as he pulled your shorts and panties down in a single swipe.

“If it were up to me-” You swallowed hard, feeling his index and middle finger run up and down your drenched folds. Your mouth ran dry as a moan escaped you, his fingers teasing your entrance. “I’d have you breed me right in front of him, and maybe have him lick your cum as it drips out of me,” You moaned, gasping as Sam’s fingers abruptly shoved their way inside of you.

You always made Sam feel like a horny teenage boy, the way your walls squeezed him. Making him feel like he could cream in his pants at any moment. Sam’s spare hand slipped its way up to your throat, squeezing your sweet spots. “You filthy slut, I’d kill him if he ever touched you again. This sweet cunt is mine,” He said, curling his fingers inside of you. You gripped his veiny arm as he squeezed your throat, your moans becoming strangled and uncontrolled.

Sam liked having this dominance over you, watching you crumble as your brain slowly shut off. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, Sam’s long fingers abusing your pussy. “Such a pretty girl. Go ahead and cream on my fingers like the good girl you are,” Sam praised. Your eyes met his, the eye contact only making you squeeze him tighter. Your legs trembled as the familiar wave of ecstasy clouded your senses, Sam’s strong hands keeping you from collapsing onto the floor. Your knees had buckled, Sam’s hand leaving your throat and your cunt.

You quietly whined at the loss of contact, your walls clenching around nothing. The moment your vision settled, your hands were on his belt. You wanted to taste him, to feel him abuse your throat. Sam stopped you, sliding his hoodie over his head. “Not this time, wanna feel you,” He mumbled, his needy nature shining through his desire to dominate you.

His neediness reminded you why you both started this entanglement to begin with. It wasn’t just the attraction, that wasn’t enough to cross all moral boundaries. It was the craving for raw affection, the kind that made your heart warm. The kind you day dream about, feeling his skin on yours.

You tossed off your own skimpy pajama top, pushing him towards the couch. His hands briefly abandoned you, your lips working against his as he undressed himself. Sam plopped on the couch, and you quickly followed after him. You straddled his lap, his shaft rubbing up and down against your folds. You groaned at the sensation as his tip brushed against your clit.

“I’m going to fuck you so stupid,” Sam muttered, reaching down to align himself. You lifted yourself on your knees, Sam’s gaze landing on your perky breast. He was a tits man more than anything, his attention now occupied. He leaned forward, taking your right breast into his mouth. Sam knew you liked to be overstimulated, his lips harshly sucking at your nipple. You moaned loudly as you sank down onto his cock, his mouth maintaining its place on your nipple.

Your fingers raked through his blonde hair, his cock stretching out your walls as his teeth grazed your nipple. “Fuck, Sammy,” You moaned, your head thrown back in euphoria. The affectionate nick name brought something out of him, something that wanted him to make you his. The blonde released your breast with a pop, a visible ring of saliva around your sensitive bud. Sam leaned forward, breaking you into a sweet kiss, briefly causing you to forget how rough he could actually be.

You were soon reminded, his hips bucking upwards. “Stay there and look pretty, let me ruin you,” Sam growled. His hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging so deeply into your flesh you were sure he would leave bruises. As sick and twisted as it was, you both got off on the idea of being better than each other’s exs. You’d never mention Kat to Sam, but he knew. Sam, however, relished in mentioning Colby to you. How much better he was than him. How much better he could fuck you. He never hesitated to remind you that he made you cum in ways Colby never knew how to.

Your moans were sounds of pure sin, ringing off of your living room walls. You knew your neighbors would be pissed, but keeping quiet was not something Sam enjoyed. Sam’s thrust were merciless, his own softer groans flooding your ears. That, and the sound of slapping skin, blinding your senses from the outside world. His cock abused your g spot, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Colby could never fuck you like this, could he?” Sam spat, attempting to regain some of your clouded attention.

You swallowed, trying to formulate a proper response.

“N-n-no. Only you Sam,” You panted, his brutal pacing never letting up. Sam smirked as you struggled to think, enjoying watching your brain melt for him. “You’re so fucked out and we’ve barely started,” Sam commented cockily. He would never admit it, but he could cum at any moment. Your body was a drug, the purest form of ecstasy he could have.

And you were all his.

His hips continued to slam into yours, destroying your cunt. “You feel so good,” You slurred, your nails leaving thin red marks into Sam’s pale shoulders. One of his hands abandoned your waist, snaking its way down to your clit. Your back arched as he began to draw slow circles around the bud, the extra stimulation bringing you closer to your peak. “So do you baby,” Sam grunted in response, his cheeks flushing pink as he fucked you.

As much as Sam loved to fuck you senseless and watch his seed drip out of your abused hole, he dreaded it at the same time. The same three words always threatened to leave his lips when he came, both of your bodies attached to the other. Those three words, would ruin the arrangement. Sam knew this. He knew this as your eyes rolled back in your head, your moans unholy music to his ears. The knot in your stomach was threatening to snap, your legs shaking as Sam held you up. You could tell Sam was coming close as well, his thrust becoming sloppy.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl. My good girl,” Sam emphasized, his hips stuttering. He groaned your name as he came, his warm cum filling up your abused cunt. You whined as his fingers continued to circle quickly around your clit, Sam’s attention returning completely on you. He hadn’t even finished riding out his high, his hand wrapping itself around your throat.

“Cmon whore, be a good slut for me,” Sam grunted. His cock remained inside of you, still at half mass. He bucked his hips slowly, pushing his cum deeper into your pussy. “You like that don’t you? My cum seeping deeper inside of you,” Sam smirked, not failing to notice your walls squeezing him. Sam brought himself closer to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “You like the idea that it’s me breeding you, don’t you? The idea that Colby would see you pregnant with my child,” Sam purred. You babbled a hardly coherent yes, your orgasm rushing upon you quickly.

“Go on then, be my good girl and cum on my cock,” Sam whispered. His dirty words were all it took, your thighs shaking as you creamed around his cock. You felt so filthy, getting off on Sam’s degrading words and relentless assault on your clit. You leaned forward, nuzzling your head against his abused shoulder. You closed your eyes, ignoring the red nail marks you had left on him moments ago.

The sound of both of your deep breathing was all you focused on, Sams long arms wrapping around you. It was also in moments like this, with you fucked out of your mind, that Sam wished he could say those dreaded three words to you. You were so vulnerable like this. So soft and sweet. With his cock growing soft inside of you, and the mixture of both of your guys cum leaking out of you, he wished things were different.

As much as he loved his best friend, he often day dreamed of the perfect world in these moments. One where maybe Colby didn’t exist, or Sam had gotten to you first. Sam stroked your back lovingly, taking in all of the affection he would soon be deprived of. Sam heard his phone buzz, the sound louder than it usually was. He could see Colby’s name light up on the screen.

Colby:

hey man where are you? we gotta edit this new video

Sam bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to leave you.

Not now, not ever.

But as he watched Colby’s name pop up on the caller ID, his ringtone reminded him why he could never say those three dreaded words.

Not now, not ever.

#sam and colby #sam golbach #sam and colby smut #sam golbach smut #colby brock #colby brock smut #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach x you #sam golbach x colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you

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aqua-reeus · 4 months

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shelter

a/n: i've literally been listening to this song on repeat and the way it makes me sob, it inspired me to write this little thing. cw: talks of body image

"no matter the cost of rain, i will shelter you all the same."

simon sees all your flaws and still finds you perfect.

sometimes you're clumsy, tripping over thin air and cursing under your breath as you steady yourself. but he finds beauty in the way you stumble and chuckles under his breath when he hears your words. "careful, love."

sometimes you're stubborn, never taking 'no' for an answer. he simply smiles, shakes his head and finds a way to make you happy. even if that means going to the ends of the earth for the smallest thing to make you smile.

sometimes you're quiet, holding back and hiding behind a timid smiles. but he cherishes your quietness and in those moments becomes quiet too.

sometimes you're scared, afraid of what lies ahead. but he stands beside you, providing shelter and shielding you from the storms that may come. he whispers deep promises in your ear, each whisper soothing your fears.

sometimes you're lost, when your mind becomes filled with doubt and bad memories, and you hide yourself as you try to hold back the tears. but he sees the strength in the way you figure things out. and when you're on the verge of breaking down, he wraps his large arms around you, calming the storm within. and his touch becomes the anchor that steadies your trembling soul.

sometimes when you rant at him, you're met with his silent gaze, his eyes fixed on your face. and you question if he's truly listening, he simply nods, a little white lie to keep the peace.

sometimes you misplace things, scattering them around the place. but he silently gathers the pieces, each and every single one of them them and puts them back where they belong, like a never-ending puzzle.

sometimes you're indecisive, actually all the time, especially when it comes to food. it may annoy him momentarily, but he ensures you never miss a treat. he goes the extra mile, always cooking up something you love.

sometimes you hide your body, concealing it from the world, feeling self-conscious and vulnerable. but he sees the beauty in every inch of you. and when his touch, his rough calloused fingers brush against your skin, it's as if a gentle flame ignites within you, burning at the centre of your core, melting away any walls of insecurity. "you're beautiful."

sometimes you wonder if anyone could truly love you, doubting your worth. but simon does.

#simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod x reader #aqua-reeus #mw2 ghost

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romanoffsbish · 6 months

Text

Dance the Night Away

Natasha Romanoff x R

Natasha loves you… | NSFW undertones, but no Smut | WC: 1,724 | Flashbacks between the funny lil lines

It was a quiet night in the Romanoff household, Natasha had only just gotten home from her last mission ever. Then she left again, taking your eldest daughter, Ella, and the bundle of toddlers, Milo and Andrey out for frozen yogurt. Your heart ached to be apart, but it also swelled as she never failed to give them her time. You knew she was tired, her mission was meant to be two days and yet it turned into weeks.

——

Your admiration for your wife only ever grew in these moments, and it was made more wholesome as your ears picked up on something special. Memories of a once blooming love story came back to you as you sipped on a glass of rose, now halfheartedly reading your book as the needle swirled around your favorite vinyl record. It was Adele's greatest cover- To Make You Feel My Love. It was the song that played at your wedding as you danced together as one, a perfect encapsulation of your story, from start to finish. Except fortunately for you both, there was no end in sight.

"When the rain is blowing in your face, and the whole world is on your case. I could offer you a warm embrace; to make you feel my love..."

A flow of happy tears streamed down your cheeks, you then closed your eyes and got lost in the nostalgia.

~•———•~•—————•~•—————•~•———•~

"Excuse me," you didn't have much time to react before your body jolted, a callous hand on your exposed hip the cause for your bodies reaction.

The club was jam packed, bodies shoved up against one another, but this bodily shock felt different. It almost felt like a message with the upmost urgency. Normally you'd shrug the person off, give them a few choice words for having the audacity to touch you, but all you did was shift your body around to face her.

You couldn't tell if it was a mistake, your fronts now flushed as she purposefully pushed you back more. Trapping you against the bar as she'd felt it too, the urge to be close to you was overwhelming and in the same breath it was also the most calm she'd ever felt.

"H-hi," you stuttered, eventually, after what felt like ages of just staring up at her chiseled jawline. Your knees nearly gave out as she chuckled, it was hoarse and the dazzling smirk to follow had you hooked.

"Sorry," she said, forgoing the greeting as her hand went to leave your side, but you reflexively stopped her and offered a nervous smile. "It's okay, I don't mind."

Natasha grinned. "So, you just let people touch you?" You knew she was teasing you, but you couldn't care less. "Not unless they're as good looking as you are."

Natasha hummed as she grabbed the shots she ordered from the bartender behind you. It wasn't her intention to leave the club with anyone tonight, but she did not want to miss out on such a gorgeous opportunity.

So, she let your words hang in the air and, suave as ever, threw her head back to down one while lifting the other up to your lips. You'd parted them without even questioning it, and she poured the alcohol down your throat with a knowing smirk as you instantly coughed.

"What- was- that?" You inquired in a fit of uncertainty, and the redhead chuckled, "Vodka; the Russian kind."

Once you stopped coughing she pulled away from you, watching in amusement as your body lurched to chase down her warmth. "May I have this dance then?"

The booze led you to say yes, rather enthusiastically, and it ended with you two outside of the club. Rain fell from the sky, though it hadn't been forecasted, and you melted into her warmth as she kissed you fervently.

The cab was coming, and soon enough you'd be too.

~•———•~•—————•~•—————•~•———•~

A proposed one night stand that turned into a forever. Natasha knew then that she'd likely fall for you, and the odd thing was she wasn't even scared to do so.

The two of you danced yourself into a lifetime.

There was no end to the amount of times you could reflect upon, Natasha never let the spark die out, even with how busy she was saving the world. Whenever she was away, and the kids were tucked in bed, you'd take moments like these to get lost in the memory cycle.

Sometimes you'd be so out of it, mind too elated to hear the world around you. Like now, you were too lost in the reminiscing to hear the lowly rumbling engine.

~•———•~•—————•~•—————•~•———•~

"Natasha..." The redhead looked at you instantly, her heart racing as she saw you in your wedding dress, you looked perfect. Yet it was somehow bad luck, which is what she shrieked as her hands flew up to her eyes.

"My love," you whispered, hands gripping her wrists so you could pull her hands down to your waist. "You don't even believe in that superstition, and neither do I. Stop letting Wanda get to you, please look at me."

A heavy sigh rushed over your done up face, and her eyes of emerald green opened to look into yours. It set off alarm bells when she saw your eyes were glossy.

Were you getting cold feet? What had happened? She had to find out because if you were running, then she would be right there behind you, on your heels.

"Detka, what's..." You shook your head and cupped her cheeks, she'd yet to do her makeup so it was okay, the dry, bare skin brought you the comfort you craved. "I just needed to see you, that's all. I hated being away from you last night—all these rules make no sense."

"I know," she sighed, "Letting Wanda wedding plan is surely biting us in the ass, hm?" You giggled and the brick that had settled on her chest quickly dissipated.

"I just want you," you whispered, lips ghosting over Natasha's but never touching to keep your gloss intact. She took in a sharp breath as she controlled her urge to kiss you, silly or not, she liked the idea of saving today's first kiss for the altar, but it was hard to refrain. "It's all too much, especially without you by my side."

Natasha knew just what you needed, so she pulled back and extended her hand out to grab yours...

~•———•~•—————•~•—————•~•———•~

"May I have this dance?" You smiled instantaneously, back to your wife as she extended a hand over your shoulder. Seconds, that was all it took for your book to fall from your lap and her hand to envelop yours just before her body did. Natasha pulled you close, soft lips pressed against the warm skin of your cheek, it was unclear if it was the alcohol or her touch that got you to this moment of weakness, but truth be told it was both.

The redhead quickly readjusted the needle, allowing the special song to replay as she pulled you closer. It was never enough for her to have you in her arms, if she could absorb you wholly she probably would, but she'll settle for slipping her hands under your shirt. Her fingertips grazed over the indented lines that covered your hips and her lips found yours forehead.

Natasha inwardly admired your strength, and the work it took for you two to build this life. Her hands never wanted to leave your body, but as the songs blended the mood wordlessly shifted. "Where are the kids?"

Natasha spun you out, then pulled you back in, your face nuzzled against her chest, so you felt as she softly sighed, "They're at Lena's for the weekend, I wanted to surprise you with a few days just to ourselves."

Once the vinyl came to an end you felt a shift in the air, no music needed to play as the energy carried your collective movements. Natasha spun you around, and you responded by pressing your backside into her. Tension left your soul to have her this close again, but it flooded your every sense as she sensually swayed your bodies in sync with the rhythm of her heartbeat.

Natasha moaned against the skin of your neck as your hand reached back to slide into her hair. Your nails scratched at her scalp, melting away the remaining tension from her body that she brought home with her.

Your mind went hazy the longer she moved you, her hands were firm and the thrust of her hips into your backside became a bit more incessant. The redhead turned you around abruptly, your hot breaths mingled as you now shared your air more directly. There was a warmth radiating between your cores that could be felt the longer your fronts swayed together, it was hard to ignore too once you started to whimper at a graze.

Natasha wanted to kiss you, it took everything in her not to, because it'd been nearly a month since she had. At least in the way she was about to, pecking your lips in greeting would never compare to what's to come.

Which is why she refused to do it in such a rush, she planned to take her time with you instead. "Go upstairs," she gently commanded, her tone soft but you knew she wasn't simply asking—she was telling. "I'll be right behind you detka, don't you worry now."

Natasha gave your ass a love tap as you walked away, and chuckled as you squeaked. You sent her a playful glare just before obediently following her request.

Once you were gone she worked quickly to tidy up the room, throwing the boys toys into the right bins, and settling your book with a placeholder on the table.

When she entered the room with her hands full you knew you made the right call by undressing. A bag of organic trail mix stuck out of her jacket pocket, her go to sex snack, then you peered up to see the half empty bottle of wine, and two glasses sat in her hand.

"You always did know how to read my mind..."

•~~ “I could make you happy, make your dreams come true. Nothing that I wouldn't do, go to the ends of the Earth for you—To make you feel my love.” ~~•

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x wife!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #gxg

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tinycozycomfort · 8 months

Text

moon, a hole of light

pairing: qz!joel miller x f!reader

day one of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: dacryphilia -> read her day one here

summary: It makes you feel like a toy, like some misused stuffed animal with loose seams and fur that’s been rubbed to the weft. Your use brings him comfort, his comfort brings you hurt.

warnings/tags: dacryphilia, unprotected piv, substance abuse (joel), age gap (joel is 46 [~10 yrs post outbreak]), reader is not), yearning, dom/sub dynamics, smidge of underwear play, pet names (honey, sweetheart, etc), joel is mean

word count: 2.4k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: i'm trying so hard to shorten things so forgive me as i navigate this learning curve.

main masterlist

A lot of life is weeping.

In joy. In sorrow. In fury so poignant it makes you wilt. Your body furls in the collapse—u-shaped shoulders that guard your insides, the lock of hard elbows into thigh.

It stings to feel so little, so vulnerable—to let anyone see how ugly emotion’s face can be—yet you let it happen, knowing that this is the only thing that separates you from the rest of them; they’ve spilled out all they had, hollow in the center after nearly a decade of ‘justified action’.

So you cry, and you sob, and you don’t care for their uncomfortable shifting and curled lips. Tess gives her best in the way of comfort, not letting a scoff slip as much when she can help it. Tommy will at least leave the room.

But Joel—Joel will watch. Joel will encourage.

He’s taken the liberty of cycling himself through every shape your hurt takes, the tears pouring over for all of his near-misses and his inability to care for you how he’s meant to. You see the way he grins to find that you cry when you’re happy to see him the same way you do when he insists he should leave.

Part of you thinks he likes it—pushing you to react and then having something to show for it. You think he especially likes when it causes you pain. You cry longer in those moments, working though fits of frustration while he kneels at your feet and watches your face sprout tears like light rain.

He pets you through it—even when he’d been the one to kick you down in the first place—to tell you you were good for sticking around, for being brave enough to have faith in him.

He enjoys having something to come back to, and wounding you is no obstacle in the pursuit of feeling needed.

It makes you feel like a toy, like some mis-used stuffed animal with loose seams and fur that’s been rubbed to the weft. Your use brings him comfort, his comfort brings you hurt.

You know he’s gearing up for another slip-away with the swift shift to kindness; Friday night he caresses you, soothes the ache of something not yet felt, to ease his exit. All pretty words and the affection he so desperately wants to hide, whispered promises of how much better he can be, how he can give you everything you deserve.

Come Saturday morning, you’re discarded.

He’s gone again on another outing, one he persuaded Tommy into joining—if the silence is any indication—even though he needs nothing; that in itself makes you even more sure it has everything to do with wanting. The burn, the desire, is something you see so clearly in the glaze he gets on later nights, the crinkle of soft plastic that trickles out through the open bathroom door. He swears it’s nothing—even to Tess, when she’s around—that he’s not on anything. He throws any excuse he can muster; it’s the wounds and the healing and the aging that make him stumble even in the lit apartment.

Everyone knows what’s actually going on, why the trips outside the QZ are becoming more frequent. It doesn’t get lost on you all the times Tommy complains of Joel disappearing to meet more than one mysterious, unarranged contact who asked for privacy—who wanted Joel alone.

Whatever it is he’s buying keeps him numb, so Tommy lets it slide, and Tess is apathetic towards Joel for reasons you aren’t too willing to know about. You’ve only tagged along so recently, so maybe they pity you, or they feel better about throwing Joel onto someone else—to ruin another thing if only to feel better about having been ruined.

You cry through the weekend in long streams, worried for him, until the hot tears pool and curl the cotton of your t-shirt—forever wet. You stay laid out on the bumpy sofa cushions for hours before your back feels just as knotted and you have to relocate to the bed, only rising again to shower and half-eat and sulk, until you’re too weak to keep track of the seconds.

When he swings in on Monday night, boots knocking as he raises them up on the rack by the door, you’re at the tail-end of another bout, cheeks damp and chest catching where it’s pinned by your shirt against the bed.

Joel walks into the room like he’s done nothing wrong. He walks in alone.

“Where’s Tommy?” you ask, but he ignores you.

Instead, he comes to you with tattered hands, fresh bruises and torn skin, and tugs you up by the creases under your shoulders so you’re seated, kneeling by the bed to level himself with the picture he’s come to love.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, words slow, “What are all those tears for? Me?”

You huff out a few shaky breaths to steady yourself, “Where’s Tommy?”

He sighs, long and hard and uneven, “He left. Why the fuck does it matter?”

He peers up so you’re forced to face him and you can see it now, the film of wet that clouds his eyes, sticky lashes and deep creases of exhaustion purpling the skin where they brush.

“Why did he leave? Because you’re high? It’s too late for him to be out there.”

You already know he didn’t hear anything past the accusation, brought to a boil at the mention of another one of his failures. He gathers up the soft flesh of your cheek in his hand, the blunt curve of his nails digging in to find teeth through the skin. He grips tight to let you know of his anger—that he could easily wring the life out of you like water.

“You’re getting real brave for someone who sits and waits for me like a dog.”

Fire prickles in the tips of your fingers, stretches across the top of your chest in humiliation. You can hear the weight of his words even through his gentle slur, like he means it, twisting away as best you can to speak, “Is that really what you think this is?”

He’s laughing before you even get it all out, the corner of his lips perked up on one side, “No one forced you to, and I certainly don’t remember asking.”

You shove at him then, with force, your hands bending back enough to pinch when he doesn’t budge. He leans into you instead, a challenge.

There’s barely time to choose before he does for you, gathering up your wrists in one hand, the one around your jaw tightening.

So close now, you get a better look at him—his hair stuck to his forehead, cheeks flushed red but with paler lips. His eyes are round, pupils cartoonish and wide. He’s still so pretty, even when dulled by the sheen of his high.

He heaves onto you, shy of livid, and you start to feel like you’re suffocating under his stifling heat, billowing out from where he’s damp with sweat under his denim shirt. The pills work fast, and for longer than they should, so you can tell he’d spent the peak of his high elsewhere, but he’s on a jagged edge of almost coherent.

You slide your thighs together at the whole of him, so strong and honest and invested in you—negative or not—something you usually find him being incapable of. He sees it.

“Oh, but you do it because you like it, don’t you? Couldn’t wait ‘til I came back. Little thing just needs some attention, hm?”

“Joel, I’m serious. Are you high right now? Where’s your brother?”

Joel wedges a thigh up under the crease of your knee, uses the grip he has on your body as leverage to move you further up the bed, climbing up with you pushing himself into the cradle of your body on the way.

“Please. You don’t give a fuck about Tommy,” he snaps, releasing and depositing you so he can make work of your shorts and the buckle holding himself back, “He’s not going to bother us, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You whine as he releases himself, can’t help how you grow wet between your legs, heart throbbing in your throat. He’s not wrong, as mean as he is how he puts it—-you’d die for him if it meant he’d look at you. If you could have him to yourself.

His cock swings free as he shoves his jeans down only enough to be out of the way, not bothering to remove your thin strip of underwear once your bottoms are tugged off. He’s hard for you, another flattery that sends shivers down your spine, the feeling of arousal flashing along your whole body—fingers folding and ankle rolling. You’re excited for him, and this display of joy doesn’t please him as much.

“I didn’t say it was a good thing. You’re pathetic,” he sucks his teeth, hooking a finger in the cotton across your seam, peeling it away from where it's slicked down, knuckle dipping in the place you’re pooling, “But it’s cute. You’re still young enough to have hope.”

He strings the gusset up and away, presses his length against your cunt before replacing it, trapping himself.

“It’s okay that you love me, sweetheart. Don’t be embarrassed. Hang onto that. It might work out for you some day.”

“But not with you,” you whisper, half an offense and half an admission of awareness—he doesn’t love you, hasn’t and can’t and won’t, but you’re willing to take what you can get.

“Cry about it.”

Joel grinds his cock against the wet slip of your cunt in short, tight motions to better catch against you, soaking himself. He presses three fingers against the base of it like a vacuum, holding himself between the two of you, the scalloped edge of your underwear twisting when they roll over his skin. The hard of him on your clit makes you gasp, and his mouth hangs open in a soundless laugh.

And you are crying, sooner than you thought, barely registering it until you feel it falling into the cup of your collarbone, a steady stream that barely burns brighter than the flare in your core.

“You really should be more careful with that little heart of yours. Gonna hurt yourself.” He slides his hand further up his cock to the tip, releasing the pressure and guiding himself to your center. Joel slides himself in to the hilt, leaning down on one forearm to hold himself up.

With his unoccupied hand, he brushes the flesh of your cheek, following its path with kisses—the warning is a genuine one, followed by no punchline or remark, the first time tonight where he’s actually tried to resonate with the predicament he’s put you both in. Earnest.

The give and take of him, flowing freely between unrelenting harshness and the soft comfort of his reassurance should be nauseating, but it shines a beam of light behind your eyes when you close them, white-hot and blinding. You’re sobbing enough to wonder how you haven’t stopped; you can feel your own wetness when he rubs down your chest with his mouth, gathered up from his mapping of your face.

Joel’s knee digs into your side as he hikes you up on his hip, eliminating even the air between your bodies, sweat-soaked and glued together. He’s pushing himself into a place you’ve often found unconsidered, that spongy spot at the back that marks the beginning of your womb. The very center of you, he’s reached, and you start to move in an act of self-preservation, unsure whether you want him to continue forward or exit. You’re mumbling something about Joel, yes-too much-don’t stop-wait-please don’t stop and when he leans back he’s beaming at you, the point of his canines shining in the dim light of the room.

He looks dangerous, like the man you’ve seen hobbling and flighty and inebriated—only ever close to anger—was just the very surface. This is the man that hunted men—that sought conquest and destroyed lives. He’s done the same to you, you realize, and now your being is nestled within the palm of his hand, pliable and willing and fully at his disposal.

You keen for him, thin and high in the channel of your throat, and he pinches your face, sealing his mouth over yours to swallow it. He’s breathing hard into you, the movement of his hips growing shaky, rhythm breaking down a half-step so that you're just swaying against the bed under his weight in little jolts.

“Joel, please. I want to make you come.”

“Keep crying for me just like that and I will. Can you do that?”

You’re so close, the anticipation feeling like warm sand sliding under your fingertips. Joel wrestles a hand into the side of your hip where it’s tightly pressed to his, finding your clit with the pad of his thumb. Your babbling continues, Yes, I promise, I promise, and Joel nods, relenting.

He presses hard against the nub, and shoves himself in that much further, and you start to come undone beneath him, the waves of pleasure coursing through to the ends of your limbs.

He’s still moving above you, talking over you—good girl, good girl—removing his hand so as to not overstimulate you before bringing it up to brush his knuckles over the hinge of your jaw, so careful even as he hammers into you, “So sad, honey. Poor thing.”

You’re still caught up in your own rambling, but you tip your head yes and he picks up his pace again, chasing his own end, “Say it for me. Can’t do it unless you say.” His voice is a little warbled, and you can tell he’s crumbling.

“Please. Come inside me, Joel.”

Joel grunts, the noise catching in his mouth like a hiccup, overtaken with the pleasure of your permission. The heat of him spreading inside your body has your legs shaking and cunt pulsing in response.

You fight to catch your breath, running a hand over your face to snap back into focus.

He falls over to lay on his side, still connected to you, dragging you over with him. He hides his face in the fold of your neck, knocking his forehead into your throat.

“Really sweet of you to wait, honey,” he breathes, sliding out of you with a long drag, a thread of wet spooling out in his wake, “Now get the fuck out.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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astrophileous · 8 months

Note

Derek becomes a girl dad and he teaches little bug to talk to his baby sister in bug's growing belly before he goes to sleep!!

I'd like to thank you for coming forward with this concept 'cause I'm going feRAL just thinking about it 🙏 I imagine Little Bug is around 3 here??? I kid you not I even googled about how a 3-year-old talks for this one 😭

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

You had woken up the moment you heard the sound of your bedroom door opening.

After dinner, you had promptly retired to your bedroom to rest your aching feet and stiff back. Your words of protest fell on deaf ears as Derek insisted on taking care of the mess in the kitchen and dining room, while your son was all too eager to lend a helping hand towards his father. They conspired to kick you out of the kitchen before you could even reach the sink, claiming that The Morgan Boys had everything under control and that your help was not needed. You had clutched your chest in a feigned hurt when your son pointed that out.

You knew you must have dozed off after getting settled on the bed, somewhere in the middle of reading the 400-something pages of a romance novel that JJ had demanded you to read. The familiar pitter patter of tiny feet that your ears had caught was followed by much heavier footsteps. There was no mistaking the presence of your husband and son within the four walls of your bedroom, especially with the sound of their loud whispers as the two conversed among themseleves as if they were the only two people who held the secret of the universe.

"Mommy is sleeping, Little Bug," you heard Derek say. It took nearly every willpower you had to keep your eyes completely shut.

"Mommy sleepy?"

"Yeah, buddy. Mommy can't say goodnight because she's sleeping," Derek explained. "Would you like to say goodnight to your baby sister instead?"

You heard your son gasp. "Baby sister?"

"Yes, Little Bug. C'mere."

You felt the bed dip underneath your fingers before a familiar warmth that you recognized as Derek's pressed against your right thigh. Not five seconds later, you felt another weight--much lighter this time--settled against the left side of your body.

"Careful, buddy. Be gentle, 'aight?" Derek warned. "Here, place your hands right here."

Mere moments later, you felt small hands roaming the expanse of your 18-week bump. Even with your eyes closed, you could still imagine the adorable curiosity in your son's eyes as he inspected your belly, along with the way his eyebrows would crease in the same manner as his father did whenever he was lost in deep thought. The urge to see your toddler's expression alone almost compelled you to open your eyes, but you were curious to see where this whole ordeal would eventually lead to, so you forced them to stay shut as you attempted to control your breathing.

"That's your baby sister in there, Little Bug," Derek said. You could nearly hear the smile in his voice.

"Sister?" Your son rubbed his palms around your bump. "Baby Bug?"

Something churned in your chest at the nickname that your son had just given for your unborn daughter.

"What do you wanna say to her, buddy?"

"Um, is it hot here? I hope it's not hot. You can't sleep when it's hot."

You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

"Go on," Derek urged.

"I wait for you to get out. We play when you get out." You felt your son hugging your bump after that, before leaving a kiss on top of it through the clothes you were wearing. "I love you, Baby Bug. Sweet dreams."

You listened as your husband and son exited the room, leaving you once again alone in the solitude. When you opened your eyes, you realized that tears had begun to pool on your waterline, and they ran down your cheeks like a summer rain, orchestrated by the trainwreck that your hormons had become.

By the time Derek returned to your bedroom, you were a plight of shaking shoulders and ferocious sobs.

"Bug?" Derek's eyes and voice were laden with concern as he rushed over to your side. "Hey, hey. What's going on? Talk to me."

You collapsed into Derek's embrace, your tears forming a wet patch on his shoulder as you mumbled your answer incoherently to his shirt.

"What?" Derek pulled back just the tiniest bit to look at your face, his eyes still worried and his arms still caging you as he asked, "What did you say, Bug? I can't hear you."

"H-He--" sob, "--he called h-her--" sob, sob, "--B-Baby Bug..."

Derek frowned.

You proceeded to fall back into his arms.

"You're crying because our son called his sister Baby Bug?"

He felt you nod against his chest.

Derek smiled.

He had nothing to worry about.

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lukehughes43 · 10 months

Text

dial drunk

trevor zegras x reader based and inspired by the song "dial drunk" by noah kahan.

warnings: drinking, angst, lots of angst, swearing, a few mentions of sex word count: 17,332 i'm sorry😭

“hey y/n/n, it’s uh, it’s trevor.”

his words were slurred together into one big drunken mess which trevor always turned into when he was home in bedford at the same time as you. despite everything telling you to delete the message right then and there, you kept listening, feeling as if there was something you needed to hear from his drunken ramblings.

“fuck i don’t even know why i’m calling you,” his laugh had a melancholy feeling to it, “i just remembered i promised to forget you, doya remember that, y/n/n?”

of course, you remembered. you were the one who made him promise to forget all about you after your less-than-clean break-up nearly three years ago now. thinking that it would be best for both of you and selfishly more so better for yourself.

“but i broke that promise, just like i broke so many other promises, right y/n/n?” there was a painful silence as it seemed as if he was waiting for you to answer him. only it was a voicemail, and you were never going to answer him. “wrong.” it was a hissed out slur. one that caused your heart that was finally taped together to slowly unravel. “i never broke any promises to you, y/n, well except this one.”

trevor let out a sigh, “i uh, i’m only making this fucking call because i have to tell you something. because i called you two nights ago. you hung up on me. you didn’t call me back.” he was hiccuping between words, whether it was because he was drunk or on the verge of having a breakdown was unclear to you. “i don’t like it, that they called you. that even after all this time i’m still so fucking in love with you i gave them your name y/n. your name. in a city full of my family and friends, but i said your name.” that’s when the tears fell.

for both of you.

you listened to him fall apart from the safety of your childhood bedroom that still had pictures of trevor and you lingering around it. hands tugging at the loose thread of your duvet as his sobs rang throughout your ears like your dial tone did when he tried calling you last night - surprised that he managed to hear your honey-sweet voice on your voicemail outgoing.

“i just wanted you to know that - that i don’t like that i gave them your name as my emergency phone call as they threw me in the cop car.” there was a long sigh before a forced laugh fell from his lips, “and one more thing, the cops? yeah, all of them thought you were wrong for hanging up on me.”

there was another beat of silence and you knew it was because he was contemplating what to say next. if he even wanted to say something, or just hang up on you, your voicemail, like you had him two nights ago when he was hurt and needed you.

he let out another shaky breath before he contiuned speaking, sending you into a crippling mess. “i dial your number drunk, y/n. honestly, at this point i’ll probably die a drunk, but that doesn’t change the fact that i would still die for you.”

and just like that, the message was over. trevor’s normally smooth voice was gone, the only thing to be heard was the sound of the rain falling against the glass of your window and your heart shattering in the pit of your stomach once more.

----

being back in bedford was normally exactly what trevor needed to rest from the demanding schedule of the nhl. normally being the keyword in that sentence. bedford had lost its calming effect on trevor the moment you had broken up almost three years ago. now he only had a sense of calm in his hometown when you were stuck away in boston because of school. what happened when you were in bedford at the same time? trevor turned into a drunken mess, days blurring together and not in a good way, praying that the alcohol would help suppress his feelings if he were to run into you. hoping that it would help him forget you like he had promised that night you stood across from each other in the cold new york air.

only it never did, despite how hard he tried.

meaning the time trevor spent in bedford grew shorter and shorter each time he came to visit his family. reaching the point where he spent the entire summer split between the hughes lake house, and jack and quinn’s shared home in michigan last year just to get away from the pain you still caused him.

pain caused based on the fact you refused to love him anymore, and he still wasn’t sure why.

trevor and you had been together for four years before you decided to break up with him before he left for world juniors in the winter of 2020 (in which he went on to win mvp and a gold medal). you were crazy about each other and had been since you first met. your relationship had made it through two different long-distance periods, was going to make it through a third before you ended it, and everyone was convinced you were going to get married. that’s why you ending it blindsided him as much as did. sent him into such a spiral that he had no choice but to take out his emotions during the world juniors tournament and walk away the highest-scoring american since jeremy roenick.

after winning gold and heading back to san diego he was fine. at least that’s what he told everyone - including himself. in reality, he was drowning every night in his tears and not drinking alcohol, yet. the drinking started that summer.

he was out to eat with his family on the main stretch of roads that ran right through bedford. his world stopped as he watched you walk across the street, laughing along to something your best friend gracie had said. the wind was taken right from his chest as his green eyes stared at you, willing you to look over at him, to see him, to will him back to breathing. only you didn’t even turn your head in his direction, instead ducking inside the little coffee shop and sitting at a table full of friends he recognized from your grad party.

that was the first time he had seen you since you broke his heart into a million different pieces, and it was the first time he felt the need to drink himself to sleep while in the same city as you. each time he’d seen you since then had gotten more complex and harder for him. causing him to keep reaching for whatever bottle he could get his hands on once he was safe from the curse of you.

leading up all to this moment in time. june seventh, two thousand and twenty-three.

his hand was shaking as he reached for his phone, throat dry despite the empty corona bottle that rested in the cup holder of his plastic chair. your contact was taunting him, your e/c eyes staring back at him from the picture he had never changed. your entire contact in his iphone remained as it did three years ago, “y/n/n<3” right in the middle of the screen, and the picture of you hoisted up on his back at the draft staring back at him right above it.

there wasn’t a chance for him to even think about what he was doing, not that he could because he was far from sober after all, the dial tone was filling his ears. as trevor sat and waited for you to pick up the phone it felt as if the entire world was on the verge of falling apart around him. he thought it was about to end completely when the dial tone finally came to an end, only instead a recording of your voice filled his ears:

“hey, it’s y/n! sorry i missed your call, i’ll call you back as soon as i can. until then, smile at a stranger and make their day. bye!”

the twenty-two-year-old had to choke back a sob at the sound of your voice for the second time in three years. he’d never made it this far before, to your voicemail, normally he hung up after the second ring of the dial tone. that was until two nights ago when he called you from the police station after the ride in the back of the cop car. now he was struggling with what he wanted to say to you in the first place, the drunk thoughts overpowering his sober thoughts that he was originally called to try and say.

“hey y/n/n, it’s uh, it’s trevor,” he began. silently praying the slur in his words wasn’t as noticeable through the phone as if you were going to be sitting here next to him. “fuck, i don’t even know why i’m calling you.” a heartbreaking laugh fell passed his lips, hand running through his rain-soaked hair. “i just remembered i promised to forget you, doya remember that, y/n/n?”

while he thought he could get away with slurring in his opening sentence he knew you’d hear the slurring of his words in that line, practically able to smell the alcohol through the phone that he reeked. light beer and fresh rainwater were the new scents trevor zegras was sporting, his favorite when he was stuck in his thoughts about you. thoughts like why you even asked him to promise you something like that, how was he supposed to forget you? he’d been in love with you for four years before you broke things off, you can’t just force yourself out of love.

shaking his head he pulled himself out of his drunken thoughts to get back to the task at hand, “but i broke that promise, just like i broke so many other promises, right y/n/n?” licking his lips trevor stayed silent, wanting for a response. for your voice to cut through the patter of raindrops on the hardwood beneath his bare feet. wait for you to exclaim ‘you never broke your promise, trevor john’ only there was no answer. there would never be an answer so he hissed out, “wrong. i never broke any promises to you, y/n, well expect this one.” sighing he fell back into his chair, reaching down into the cooler next to his chair, and pulled out another beer. “i uh, i’m only making this fucking call because i have to tell you something.” he popped the cap of the corona off before speaking again. “because i called you, two nights ago.” drink. “you hung up on me.” drink. “you didn’t call me back.” drink. “i don’t like it, that they called you. that even after all this time i’m still so fucking in love with you i gave them your name, y/n. your name. in a city full of my family and friends, but i said your name.” tears began to carve a path down his tanned cheeks, mixing with the rain drops as they both fell in a perfect rhythm together.

his sobs subsided just enough to get out the right of his message. “i just wanted you to know that - that i don’t like that i gave them your name as my emergency phone call as they threw me in the cop car.” a mix between a deep sigh and a laugh-filled the dark backyard before he left his final blow: “and one more thing, the cops? yeah, all of them thought you were wrong for hanging up on me.”

trevor fought with himself, trying to decide if he was worth telling you. worth allowing himself to turn into the charming young man you once knew, and for a split second, what remained of his former self had shown through and he let out the confession he was terrified to hear, and more terrified of what you would do once you’d listen to his voicemail. if you even did listen to his voicemail.

“i dial your number drunk, y/n.” tears fell down his cheeks as he allowed the self pity to wash over him. as he finally accepted the fact he was the villain in what was a once a famed love story. “honestly, at this point i’ll probably die a drunk, but that doesn’t change the fact that i would still die for you.”

he hit the red circle so quickly that he almost cut off his final word, but he didn’t care. because now he was stuck thinking about how his downward spiral caused by you breaking up with him three years ago had hit its rock bottom two nights ago. all because he started throwing drunk punches to defend the honor of somebody he didn’t even know anymore.

----

june fifth, two thousand and twenty-three. while to many others it was just a normal monday night at the start of summer, to you and trevor, june fifth was the biggest turning point in your no longer-existent relationship - yet neither of you knew it.

while you were in your room getting ready for a date - only the second one you’d gone on since breaking up with trevor - your former lover was busy writing down a list of food needed from the grocery store. as you finished applying your lipstick (trevor’s favorite shade on you no less) he was across town throwing reusable bags into the back of his bronco.

there were butterflies in your stomach as you walked downstairs to sit and wait in your living room. since trevor, this was the first time you had genuinely felt nervous over a guy. granted it was only the second date you had gone on in close to three years you still had hooked up with a couple at parties but none of them made you feel anything and left you thinking about trevor as you waited to make your escape once they’d fallen asleep.

trevor on the other hand couldn’t keep a girl even if he wanted to. how could he when every girl he spent time with he compared directly to you - the love of his life? occasionally he’d find himself stumbling around a random girl from the bar’s apartment, but it never lasted. no matter how good the sex was, or wasn’t, he was never completely satisfied. his mind stuck thousands of miles away with you.

your date, charlie, was over ten minutes late the next time you glanced at your phone and the butterflies in your stomach had slowly started to die. sighing you slouched back against your coach while trying to ignore the watchful eyes of your parents. both who were still pro-trevor, and made it known to you how much damage you had caused the ‘sweet boy’ whenever they had a chance. not that you could blame them though, you knew how much you hurt him. you just knew staying with him would hurt you even worse.

the star ducks player was right on schedule as he began his trek across bedford to the grocery store. waving as he drove past charlie henderson, an old friend from elementary school, having no idea that he was on his way to pick you up for a date. the blond waved back almost instantly, smiling two times as wide for two different reasons. the first being he was on his way to your house and not trevor, something he would have never dreamed of in a million years. the second was because it was trevor fucking zegras waving at him, and to be honest, he was surprised trevor even remembered he existed.

by the time charlie pulled into your half-circle driveway, he was a total of twenty minutes late. not to mention that when he arrived he didn’t run up to the door and eagerly knock with a bright smile on his face. instead, he chose a more twenty-first-century approach with a ‘here’ text message on snapchat. what remained of the butterflies you once had in your stomach had officially died with that. sighing you pushed yourself off the couch and walked towards the entryway, “um charlie’s here so i’m gonna go. i’ll see you guys tomorrow?”

a disappointed look painted your mother’s face, while your father began to shake his head. muttering something into your mother’s ear so you didn’t overhear him. however, as you walked out the door you did hear the comment your mother threw out, “trevor never showed up late. he always came to the door.” her words were sharp and cut deep into your heart. suddenly something that seemed to be going so well was going so terribly wrong.

it was pure luck, rather an unfortunate circumstance, that as trevor was walking out of the grocery store as you and charlie were stuck at the red right in front of the store’s parking lot. even hundreds of yards away trevor could make out your h/c curled as your head rested against the window. in an instant, trevor’s semi-decent mood had shifted to one of pure heart-shattering agony. had he been thinking straight he would’ve remembered you only leaned your head against the car window when you wanted to go, only he was currently thinking of the closest bar as the ten minutes drive back home seemed too far of a wait for him.

you saw him as soon as charlie rolled the car to a stop. he hadn’t seen you yet, head tucked down looking at the blacktop and his rainbow flip-flops. until by some stroke of luck, perhaps unfortunate circumstances, he looked up and saw you. his green eyes tripled in size as he stared at you and you knew it was because you were in the car with a guy who wasn’t him. your knees were already pointed towards the car door, only now they were touching the plastic interior. this had to have been a sign - seeing trevor. you wanted to curl up into yourself as you waited for what seemed like forever at this light. praying that trevor couldn’t see the way you were staring right back at him, longing to be stuck at this red light with him instead of charlie, yet you wouldn’t admit that to anybody but yourself.

as the light turned green three things happened to three different people.

trevor dropped his reusable bags full of groceries and ran to his car. desperate to drown his pain with the company of the strangers who filled his hometown.

y/n watched with a subtle pang in her chest, feeling as if she broke his heart all over again. tears pricked her waterline as she drove away from the scene with a man she no longer wanted to be with.

and charlie continued to ramble aimlessly on about how he is the president of a frat at u-maine. completely obviously to the hurt, the two former lovers were going through. instead when he caught the sight of the bright yellowish-orange bronco he cut his ramblings off to say, “hey! i saw trevor on my way to pick you up. ya know, he even waved to me. i had no idea he still knew who i was. i mean he’s a bigshot nhl player now. probably pulling instagram models - girls that are way out of his league. then again he probably learned how to do that from you, right y/n/n?”

a shaky breath left your mouth as you turned away from the window for the first time since you got in the car. “excuse me?” you huffed, arms crossing over your chest as your eyes narrowed at him. “are you implying trevor’s out of my league, charlie?”

with a fight breaking out on a first date in the silver honda accord, an internal war was raging in the confines of the yellow bronco. with heaving breaths trevor began to pull at his hair. “she’s on a date. y/n’s on a date with charlie henderson? there’s- there’s.” his words were cut off as he began to slam his hands down against the steering wheel. trying to prevent the tears that were collecting on his lashes from falling. “fuck!” he screamed, voice rattling the glass of his windows as he did so.

“what?! no! no-” sighing charlie shrugged his shoulders while barely glancing over at you. “i mean yeah, everyone thought so, y/n. it was only a matter of time until he broke up with you, so when news traveled back that you broke up with him. nobody believed it. i mean come on y/n/n, trevor was always going to end up in the nhl, and you’re what, going to be a kid’s doctor? yeah i dunno, like i said it was only a matter of time.”

trevor clenched his fist before he reached forward with shaking hands to his steering wheel. starting the car and backing out as fast as he could. making sure he went in the complete opposite direction of the silver honda that you sat in, not able to bear it if he saw the two of you at the bar while he tried to drink his pain away.

the tears fell faster than you could stop them as you stared over at him in awe. he had managed to hit every single one of your insecurities from dating trevor right on the head, and threw them back in your face like you were nothing. with trevor splitting time between the gulls in san diego and the ducks in anaheim a war had begun to grow between your head and your heart. thinking about how he could spend all of his free time with a new instagram model every night, but you knew he wouldn’t do that. not when the both of you had talked about marriage and starting a family for hours on end. only as time went on, and the bigger trevor started to get, you felt as if you were slowly falling into the shadows of his life. then there was the fact you felt as if your career wasn’t enough for him, or for your future. self-doubt was a powerful demon, working its magic to make you believe as soon as trevor was a full-time nhl player he would force you to abandon your studies for your future career and turn into a full-time nhl girlfriend who sat there and looked pretty. so by thanksgiving you had made up your mind to end things with the then nineteen-year-old. forcing yourself to slowly fall out of love with him. something you were still forcing yourself to do even after all this time.

as soon as trevor pulled into the little dive bar a couple miles outside of town he was reaching for his phone. he scrolled through his messages for the one person who wouldn’t ask him any questions as to why he disappeared and never returned with the groceries. double clicking on the picture of his brother and him from a wrestling meet - three years ago in december - he typed out a frantic message before turning his phone off and walking into the bar:

something came up. couldn’t get the groceries home. they’re laying in the middle of the parking lotor i’ll venmo you $200 and you can buy more

griffin zegras, while being the younger brother he loved just as hard as his older brother, and was even wiser than the eldest zegras sibling. so when he got the message from his older brother he knew right away that you came up. while he didn’t know what had exactly happened, he had a suspicion that it was something pretty drastic for trevor to drop the groceries in the middle of a parking lot and rush away to an undisclosed location. sighing he liked the message before walking towards the door, “come on av, we gotta go get the groceries.”

an angered laugh fell past your lips as you glared over at the boy. “it was only a matter of time?” shaking your head you looked down at your phone to see that it had only taken fifteen minutes for the date to get completely blown to shit. “you know charles, i’m starting to remember why i never was interested in you during high school,” you started to explain, wiping the tears from your eyes. “because you’re a selfish asshole who gets off on the downfalls of other people, so i think it’s time you take me home.”

“i need the strongest drink you have,” was the first thing out of trevor’s mouth as he threw himself down on the bar stool. the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head in an attempt to blend in with the crowd so nobody realized it was him ‘trevor zegras center for the anaheim ducks’ when all he wanted to be was ‘drunk guy at the bar number two.’

charlie stared over at you with a look of complete disbelief, nobody had ever called him out on his bullshit before tonight. why would they when he could just buy his friend's company with all the money his parents make? his shocked expression remained etched across his face as he pulled into a dunkin parking lot to turn around. even more shocked that he was following through with your wishes of going home when he had waited years for the opportunity to go out with you. yet here he was, giving in to you without any protest, because deep down he knew you were right. he just wasn’t willing to openly admit it.

within the first five minutes of sitting at the bar counter, trevor had managed to completely down the moscow mule which was placed in front of him, as well as three shots of vodka. with his vision toeing the line of fuzzy and seeing straight he backed off the hard alcohol and ordered a bud light. with his buzz well in place, he knew he’d be okay to sip on a beer as you were a distant thought in his alcohol-clouded head.

“oh hi honey, you’re back early.” the sound of your mother's voice was next to one of the last things you wanted to hear as you slowly shut the front door behind you. originally hoping that you could sneak back in without facing the questions as to why you were home. yet your parents' movie night completely ruined that plan. taking a deep breath you walked into the open space, and the scene of seeing your parents happily cuddled up together, how to lose a guy in 10 days on tv, caused you to turn into a sobbing mess. because all you could think of at that moment was how you wanted your future to look exactly like this with one certain person: trevor.

charlie watched as you walked in your front door, and as soon as it was closed he was speeding out of the half-circle driveway towards his sanctuary: the bar. more specifically the bar that trevor was currently holed up in, but neither of them knew this. instead, both of them were both stuck in their thoughts on how to drink enough to get you off their minds.

when you had left for your date with charlie, someone whom both of your parents didn’t think was right for you, they agreed to not say another word on the matter to you. meaning they weren’t going to bring up trevor unless you did. all they wanted was for you to be happy, and if this so-called charles henderson fellow, umaine frat president, could make you happy, then that was all they cared about. so they went along with their nightly plans of watching a rom-com, drinking a bottle of wine, and falling asleep on the couch just like they did in their first year of marriage. just as andie was about to ask ben for another diet coke at the knicks game, you opened the front door. reaching forward, your mother set down her wine glass and paused the movie before turning to look back at you, “oh hi honey, you’re back early.” your father squeezed her hand that he was holding as they both watched the tears begin to fall down your cheeks, simultaneously breaking their hearts. “sweetie what happened? you haven’t cried over a boy since tr-” immediately she caught herself by clearing her throat and restarted. “oh honey, come here.”

time had seemingly stopped for trevor. was this his first beer or his third? he couldn’t remember anymore. while he had started as casually sipping, he soon began to finish them faster than intended as he realized he had nothing to keep him occupied other than the bottle in his hands. with his phone turned off and stashed away in his pocket, not wanting his family or the boys to have his location pinging at a bar, he was completely alone. normally when he did this at home he had the company of a friend over a facetime call. every night it bounced around from person to person. when he wanted someone to help him reflect on the past with you it was spencer, as he was the resident third wheel of your relationship, having grown across the state line separating new york and connecticut with you. on the nights he didn’t want to talk or think about you at all, like tonight, he would call jamie since he never had the chance to meet you. jamie also missed out on the man trevor was before the breakup. while he was still charming, he would change from charming to alarming in seconds, jamie always had to walk on thin glass. nights where he just wanted comfort it was griffin, as there was nothing better than brotherly love, and someone able to hold you while you fall apart. except for tonight, trevor had nobody. he was completely and utterly alone with nobody he knew: until the front door opened and in walked charlie henderson.

sniffling, you wiped away the tears that clung to your jawline before offering your parents a small smile, “can i crash date night after i change?” instantly your mother was nodding her head, your father smiling over at you softly. this gives you the chance to run up to your room and change into the only piece of clothing that could give you comfort when you heart this bad, trevor’s boston university hockey sweatshirt. the last team issued one he got before the covid pandemic shut down his college career and he signed with the ducks. when you wore the gray sweatshirt it felt like he was right there with you. holding you close and promising you everything was going to work out for the better. his scent had long faded, but the idea of it being his was what grounded you. so much so that you were reaching for your phone and his contact.

trevor’s once relaxed body had now become rigid at the sound of charlie’s smooth voice. he was too afraid to dare to look over and risk seeing you hanging off his arm, so instead he ordered another beer and turned so his back was completely towards his former classmate. he hadn’t understood why you agreed to go out on a date with charlie henderson. in high school, he was nothing but sleazy. flaunting his parents' money around to gain the attention of girls, and the friendship of the boys in your grade. sure he was good-looking, but trevor was certain there wasn’t a single brain cell behind those dull, lifeless eyes. when he went away to avon trevor would hear all about the charlie stories through you. how you would roll your eyes every time he tried to make a move on you, always pointing out that you and trevor were still very much together. so it bewildered him that you were currently on a date with charlie ‘frat president’ henderson. then again, people change and maybe charlie had. trevor knew that he had changed for the worse, maybe charlie had changed for the better. and who was he to judge you for your choices? he didn’t even know you anymore.

tears stung your eyes as you stared down at the contact that no longer had a name, but you would know the phone number despite the missing name, even if there was still a random selfie trevor had taken as the contact photo. why you had kept the photo but erased his name made no sense to you back then, and even less now, but that’s not what you were worried about. instead, you were worried about how your hands were shaking as your finger ghosted over the call button. your heart was beating so hard against your rib cage it was starting to hurt. you couldn’t call him, not after all this time. not after ripping his heart out and throwing it on the ground to stomp on it, all while you were still madly in love with him. you couldn’t. yet, you did.

if trevor’s phone had been on he would’ve felt it buzz in his pocket. he would’ve set his bud light down and pulled out his phone instead. the four-year-old picture would’ve flashed across his screen, your name lighting it up at the top. tears would’ve formed in his eyes as he stared down at the eighteen-year-old versions of yourselves before swiping the answer call across his screen. he would feel charlie henderson’s eyes on him as he let out a breath with one thing leaving his lips, “y/n/n.”

only trevor’s phone didn’t buzz, and your call would be missed as he took another sip of his beer. he was trying his hardest to tone out charlie’s voice which seemed to get louder and louder by the second as if he was trying to get under trevor’s skin. like he knew it was him sitting four stools down from him, and he knew just how to hit the twenty-two-year-old right where it hurt and choose to punch a man while he was down. he had started to bring up you.

the moment charlie walked into the bar he had known it was trevor perched up at the counter. at first, he told himself if he was just going to leave it alone, pretend he didn’t see him like every other person in the bar, and go on with his night. drinking little fruity cocktails while he joked around with his friends to get his mind off you and the date that was a disaster. he was fine doing that until one of his dorky tag-a-long friends didn’t get the memo that they weren’t supposed to bring up the fact he wasn’t supposed to be here and said, “aren’t you supposed to be out with y/n l/n right now?” while he could’ve chosen the easy road of telling the truth, one that would shatter his ego and imagine amongst his friends, he began to see red and chose the complete opposite. he chose violence.

“hey, it’s z! sorry i can’t get to the phone right now, i’ll give ya a call when i can!” the voicemail recording caused the sinking feeling in your heart to grow even larger. sniffling you hit the big red end button as the woman's voice explained the steps of leaving a voicemail. you knew you shouldn’t have called, and that trevor not answering wasn’t a surprise to you. running a hand through your curls you slipped the phone into the pocket of his sweatshirt, pulled on a pair of shorts, and walked downstairs to meet your parents. “i’ll make more popcorn if you guys pour me a glass?”

“yeah i was, but she was just so boring,” charlie drawled, trying to think of more lies he could say to cover for himself. “y/n l/n isn't interesting in the slightest. i really don’t get what people see in her.” as his friends kept laughing the smile on his face grew more and more. fuelling the fire that now burned inside of him. nobody called charles j. henderson out on his bullshit and got away with it.

at first, trevor thought he was hallucinating hearing your name come out of charlie’s mouth. because there was no way charlie henderson called you, y/n m/n l/n, boring and uninteresting. so much to the point that he had to end the date twenty minutes after it started. “yeah, you don’t even understand. she was like, fake sobbing because i told her i couldn’t do it. like i’m sorry, i don’t want to spend my night with a girl who’s clearly a four.” finishing his drink he threw three twenty dollar bills down before turning in his seat to look down the bar at charlie. his blood was already boiling, yet he was still waiting for the prime opportunity to pounce on the scumbag.

with a fresh bowl of popcorn resting on the coffee table, and three full glasses of wine surrounding it, you were finally ready to settle down on the couch with your parents to watch the movie. “we restarted it for you, honey. we know how much you like this movie,” your dad said while smiling over at you. taking note of the way you clung to the sweatshirt that was on your frame. he pressed play and you let out a blissful sigh, staring at the opening credits and thinking about how for the next hour and a half, you’d be starting at a young matthew mcconaughey who you thought looked uncannily like trevor in this movie. trying to completely forget about the fact he had sent you to voicemail.

“i don’t think y/n’s a four,” one of charlie’s cronies replied sheepishly, pushing the salt around the rim of his margarita. “she’s like, one of the hottest girls i’ve ever seen! and i mean, she pulled trevor zegras.” charlie cringed at the thought of you and trevor happily together. all he wanted was a chance with you, and the one time he got that chance it was ruined by some stupid nhl player who didn’t even graduate college. meanwhile, he had graduated and on top of that, he did it while organizing frat party after frat party. what did trevor do? nothing! he left you up for grabs three different times because of hockey. in his opinion it was time you dumped him, even if he was out of your league, so you could settle down with somebody more like him. seeing how displeased charlie had grown with his comments in defense of you, matt the cronie, frowned before changing his tune about you. “yeah you’re right, char, she is a four. a total four! i mean, what did zegras even see in her, to begin with? probably only stuck with her because she was too ugly to cheat on him, and wouldn’t feel bad cheating on her when he left for hockey.”

if the words charlie’s friends were spewing about you weren’t enough to get his blood boiling, then the way charlie’s lips curled up into an evil smile was. he rushed off of his stool and stomped his way over to the group, a scowl on his face as he watched all of them but charlie stare at him in awe. he was still a famous nhl player after all. “don’t you fucking idiots dare let y/n’s name leave your mouth again, or i swear to god i’ll kill you. all of you. she’s too pure-hearted and too good of a person for you to be dragging her name in the dirt. she’s the type of beautiful where you’re lucky to be in her presence. inside and out.” his nostrils flared as he heaved out every word laced with anger. “and you,” he seethed turning his full attention to charlie, “consider yourself fucking lucky someone as incredible as y/n agreed to go on a date with a self-absorbed egotistical asshole like yourself. you’re calling her uninteresting? the only thing you have to show for yourself is the fact you were a frat president at umaine, nobody gives a shit dude!”

even with your attention on the movie you could feel the way your mother kept glancing over at you. you were an open book to her. you knew it was only a matter of time until she said you could talk to her, or asked about trevor’s sweatshirt. and as if almost on cue she leaned over to whisper into your ear. “do you want to talk about it, sweetie? it has to have been pretty bad if you’re wearing trevor’s sweatshirt. you only do that when you’re really upset.” shrugging your shoulders you reached forward and grabbed your glass of wine. praying that taking a sip would end her pestering. she ran a hand through your hair and pressed a kiss against your forehead, “whenever you’re ready, i’m ready.” only you didn’t think you’d be ready to talk about the events of this night for a long time. not until you at least figured it out for yourself, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever figure it out for yourself.

the cronies were stifling back their laughter as they listened to trevor tear into their group's leader. only the laughter came to a halt as chalire jumped out of his barstool to stand chest to chest with the six-foot-even nhl forward. “think you’re a big man now that you’re in the nhl z?” charlie asked with a taunting tone, head tilted to the side as he just barely stared down at the hockey player. “well you’re not, dumbass. i mean look at you, you’re getting blackout drunk in a bar over your ex-girlfriend who broke up with you three years ago. you’re pathetic. just like y/n’s little dream of being a doctor.” matt and nate let out a chorus of ‘ooh’s’ like the group was still in high school, right away beginning to make small comments to each other. “maybe you guys did deserve each other, could’ve been pathetic together.”

that’s when the first punch was thrown.

“i tried calling him,” you whispered out only for your mother to hear. because you knew if your father heard it would be over. his hopes would get too high, and he would fly too close to the sun thinking he was about to get his best friend back. even your mother perked up hearing that you had called him. “but he didn’t answer,” you added, e/c eyes completely focused on the screen in front of you. “it’s probably for the best that he didn’t answer. i can’t blame him.” you were sniffling before burying your head in your mother’s chest. fighting back the tears as you snuggled closer to her. wondering why you had let your anxiety and the possibility of trevor and your relationship turning toxic steer you away from the only person you’d ever love.

your father listened from the other side of your mother, a frown overtaking his features while he sunk into the couch. he couldn’t help but feel as if all of this heartbreak had been his fault. he was the reason you and trevor had met in the first place. (the reason you had met spencer too but that’s beside the point right now). on the side of his day job as a pediatrician, he coached a local youth hockey team. while you played on the girl's team, your dad thought it would be best to avoid the whole politics of ‘parent coaches’ and stuck to the boys and that’s how he met trevor and spencer. you met at an outdoor jamboree at the ripe age of five, and since then you had been inseparable. it was only a matter of time until you and trevor ended up together, and nobody was happier about that than your father. trevor was the son he never knew he wanted. he just fit in with your family, with your lives. so when you came back inside that december night crying, saying you had broken up, poor d/n l/n felt like it was all his fault two of his favorite people in the world were crushed as badly and as deeply as they were. he still couldn’t forgive himself.

trevor had swung at charlie first. his right fist splitting his lip in half. the blood coated his knuckles and the tiled floor. as he watched charlie stumble backward he turned his attention to matt first. “you know matt, i was going to spare you, but then you had to go and change your tune just for a couple of hundred bucks,” he slurred with a smirk on his face, “so i gotta do what i gotta do, i hope you can respect that man.” he didn’t give the boy chance to answer before he threw another heavy right hook. this time breaking the matt’s nose. the crunch of the cartilage breaking could be heard throughout the whole bar, and that’s what gained the attention of every bar-goer. trevor had sealed his fate as soon as the first punch was thrown.

the onlookers in the bar couldn’t believe what was happening in front of them. it wasn’t every day that a true bar fight broke out, and it certainly wasn’t every day that it was an nhl player took part in it. barry, the regular bartender, figured it would sort itself out. a couple of punches would be thrown and then the group would separate and there would be nothing to worry about. it would be a done deal. only that wasn’t what happened in this case. charlie henderson, after picking himself up off the counter, lunged forward and socked trevor right in the temple. laying it on thick enough to give the star player a black eye for a couple of days, maybe even a week. when trevor lunged forward and tackled the entitled prick to the grimy floor is when poor barry had to make the phone call to the police, seeing as matt and nate were doing absolutely nothing to help their friend, and trevor wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

“sweetheart,” your mother cooed while running a hand up and down your back. “just give trevor a little time. you haven’t talked in nearly three years, he’s probably scared to hear from you considering the last time you saw each other…” as she trailed off you nodded along with what she was saying. she made a valid argument in trevor’s defense. if you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t answer you on the first phone call either. you asked him to completely forget you existed, so he had to have been fairly confused about why you were even trying to call him. you had never attempted to reach out to him before, but what he didn’t know is that you still kept tabs on him. asked spencer and your parents about him, sometimes even reaching out to jack if an opportunity presented itself to you. you still followed him on instagram to see what he was up to, but never liking any posts so he wouldn’t know. (he knew. he checked his following once a month to see if your name was still amongst the sea of random people he didn’t care about). you still cared about him and loved him, but he just didn’t know it, so you figured it was time to change that. if only he had answered the call.

trevor’s knuckles burned with every punch he threw, pulling them as he knew he couldn’t beat this kid to a bloody pulp. although, if you looked at his split knuckles you would think that he had. the blood from charlie’s split lip and broken nose had coated his own on his cracked open knuckles. leaning over the man trevor tried to catch his breath before throwing one more threat his way. “don’t you ever fucking talk about y/n again. if i find out you did, i won’t be so gentle next time.” carefully he pulled himself off charlie before leaning back against a barstool, a bad decision on his part because the next thing he knew charlie was barking orders at matt and nate when he clearly should’ve sought medical attention for his broken nose.

within an instant the two cowards were pinning him down to the blood-filled floor as charlie leaned over with a nasty grin, blood dripping down to the tiles next to his dirty blond hair.

“you’re going to wish you never threw that punch when i’m done with you, big z. cause you see, i have nothing to lose unlike you.” and with that charlie drilled him in the left side of his head, making sure that his black eye wasn’t going away for a long period of time.

shrugging your shoulder’s you nodded, a defeated sigh leaving your lips. “yeah, i wouldn’t have answered me either,” you mumbled, curling yourself into the other end of the couch. beginning to nurse the glass of wine you were about to refill. eyes refocusing on the screen in front of you as ben and andie sat at a couple’s counselor. it was a cruel joke in your eyes now, that if you had thought of going to therapy by yourself or with trevor maybe none of this would’ve happened. maybe he’d be with you right now, cuddled up on the love seat throwing popcorn at each other while your parents looked on in awe of you. but you know what they say, dreams are for rookies.

with each punch charlie landed on trevor’s face he felt his ego rise once more through his body. there was no doubt his left hook had broken trevor’s nose, blood having immediately started to gush from it. only that didn’t stop him. no, charlie was seeing red, while he may have been in the wrong he wasn’t going to let trevor off as easy he did him. no he wasn’t stopping until both eyes were black and blue, his nose was dislocated and resting against his left cheek, and his lips had cracks and split in them. he wanted trevor zegras to be unrecognizable when he was done with him, and he would’ve had his way if he hadn’t heard the sirens over the mood music in the bar. “oh fuck, that’s the cops!” charlie yelled, jumping off trevor. in the process, kneeing him right in the stomach. while it wasn’t intentional he couldn’t lie, he was happy it had happened. “nate, matt, we gotta get out of here. my dad still hasn’t paid my speeding tickets.” as they ran towards the front door it was pushed open by two middle-aged police officers. the ginger took in the scene in front of him, while the blond shook his head.

“nobody’s going anywhere. you’re all coming with us.”

groaning out in agony trevor didn’t even try to pull himself off the floor. he was far too embarrassed by what had occurred to have the will to move. he was embarrassed about everything but defending your name. if you were still together and this had happened he knew you’d be giving him an ear full. telling him that your name isn’t as important as his reputation, and the status his name held. but ultimately you would cave, thanking him for defending you before the two of you fell asleep. now, he didn’t know what you would do when word got back to you. would you be mad at him? happy he stuck up for you? it would be a lie to say he didn’t care because he did. he had to know what you thought of the events that occurred. little did he know, but he would find out sooner rather than later what you thought of this little bar brawl.

“i’m going to grab the other bottle of red and make some nachos to go along with it. do either of my women need something while i’m up?” asked your father as he paused the movie, right as it was about to get good. classic dad move. your mother got up to accompany him, while you stayed rooted in your seat. finishing the glass in your hands. besides pausing movies at random times, your dad had always been a sweetheart. there was nothing more he wanted in life than to have a family, to have children. unfortunately for both your mother and father, you were the only child they were gifted with. it was a struggle to have you as your mother struggled with fertility issues, yet that didn’t damper either of their spirits, especially your fathers. during the day he thrived as a pediatrician that every parent wanted their child to go to. he had a gift when it came to children. and by night he was a resident youth hockey coach. but first and foremost he was a family man. there was nothing he wouldn’t do for either you or your mother. big or small, he was always the first person offering to help. he was the one who picked up your pieces after the breakup. he was your true confidant. he explained to you that at one point in their lives, your parents had broken up. your father was struggling to stay afloat in med school, and your mother was thriving at the bedford elementary school as a teacher. the distance, and the fact he felt he wasn’t enough for her, was enough for him to end their relationship. their break lasted almost a year until they reconnected in a hospital waiting room. it was because of your parents and your father practically doing the exact thing you did, that you even had the slightest hope you and trevor could rekindle your relationship. only, you were starting to realize, you should’ve called after year one, not year three.

“alright kid, time to get up,” the ginger officer drawled while leaning over to pick trevor up by his armpits. once he was up on his feet, the office turned trevor around and pressed him up against the bar counter, and pulled both of his hands behind his back. letting out a sigh trevor couldn’t help but shiver as the metal handcuffs were clasped around his wrists. he was soon pulled forward off the counter and was started towards the door, “you’re facing disorderly conduct. you have the right..” the officers' words trailed off in trevor’s head as he was brought back outside. the blond cop had charlie, matt, and nate huddled together on the hood of his car. he couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but it sounded as if charlie was trying to bribe the officer to not book them. the conversation was completely cut from trevor’s ear as his officer, officer collins, opened the back door, pushed his head down, and pushed him inside. as trevor stared up at him he could only think of one thing.

“wait!” he exclaimed as officer collins was about to shut the door, “my emergency phone call is y/n l/n.”

your mother came back into the room first giving you the perfect opportunity to ask. “mom, do you think there’s still a chance trevor and i end up together? i mean, like you and dad did?” she didn’t answer you, instead, she let out a sigh while leaning down and filling your glass of wine. you could tell that she was thinking of the right thing to say back to you, and that’s how you knew you most likely weren’t going to like the answer she had come up with. “you know mom, you actually don’t have to answer that. it’s silly of me to even think that we did have a chance to get back together. i blew it the moment i broke up with him in twenty-twenty.” while you were currently three glasses deep, starting your fourth, the buzz was beginning to hit you. since the breakup, red wine no longer made you horny as it once had while you were dating trevor, instead, it sent you in a downward spiral of your most inner ward thoughts. the downward spiral which was beginning to happen, yet you didn’t know how to make it stop before it got too bad. “i was so stupid to do that, break up with him. i thought we would end up in a toxic relationship. i thought we would end up hurting each other, so i chose to just hurt him instead. because while it hurt me to do, i got over it. i got over it faster than i should’ve, and every time i came home i wanted him again. i wanted us again, and this time i know i want him and only him forever.” taking a deep breath you looked up at your mother with tears forming in your eyes again, “so mom i do need to know, do you think there’s a chance me and trevor make it in the end?”

officer collins shook his head while slamming the back door in trevor’s face. he stalled for a minute opening his notebook and grabbing his pen. quickly he scribbled down ‘y/n l/n’ before pocketing his notebook and pen and walking to the driver's door. he glanced in his side mirror to watch as officer shandy, the blond, shoved charlie henderson and the other two he didn’t know into the back of his car. he then switched his gaze to his rearview mirror to stare at trevor. he had his busted-up face pressed against his the glass window. he assumed that it was because the coolness of the glass felt good against his cut-up lips and bruised eyes. sighing he pulled his patrol car into gear and checked the mirror one more time before addressing trevor again. “don’t worry kid, we’ll get your face cleaned up then you can make your call.”

“can i make the call first?”

m/n l/n’s heart broke as she sat and listened to your ramblings. in a way she had felt guilty she was even hearing every word that you had begun to utter to her. of course she had thought about you and trevor getting back together multiple times. it was something she had thought of almost daily. but as time grew on she saw it becoming less and less likely of a happy outcome. she, of course, had known trevor would be more than willing to jump at an opportunity to get back together with you, it was you she was worried about. she figured as time grew on you would lose all your interest in the bedford native, so she was completely shocked to hear that you were still all in with trevor. “honey,” she sat back down next to you hands reaching forward and grabbing yours, “i think there’s a chance if you really want there to be.” she squeezed your hands before kissing the top of your head, “i wish i could discredit the words you had just said to me, but unfortunately i know that they hold nothing but the truth. but i do still believe that if you want to be with trevor then you'll find a way to end up with each other.”

“sure kid, you can make your call first if that’s what you really want.” officer collins answer had satisfied trevor to the point where he zoned out into his own little world for the remainder of the drive. by some stroke of fate, they were caught at the same red light charlie and you had been stuck at when trevor had seen you. he took it upon himself to look and see if someone had picked up his grocery bags, they had, griffin and ava having found them right away. his attention was then turned to the traffic lights that seemed to be speaking to him.

“will it be alright?” he asked, whether he spoke it out loud or if it was just in his head he got an answer regardless. as the light turned from red to green it spoke out with a defeated, “i don’t know.”

tears carved their way down your cheeks, leaving what you thought would be a permanent trail as you clung to the little bit of hope your mother’s words gave you. you cradled the wine glass close to your face, watching as your tears fell into the sea of red alcohol, trying to stop yourself from thinking about what your life would look like now if you had never broken up with trevor. thinking how you could be with him doing god knows what. maybe getting in a little trouble, maybe just spending the night in the back of his god-awfully colored bronco at the old lookout point. how he’d be busy cracking jokes, teasing you to no end, all while you playfully would shove his chest before grabbing his chain and pulling him in for another kiss. not stopping until your already swollen lips looked as if you were both stung by bees. instead, you were met with the cruel reality of not having a single clue where trevor was, or what he was doing. you were left alone with your thoughts about when things seemed as if they were never going to end and there was stuck with you: how did you ever think trevor zegras would turn out as a toxic person?

if officer collins had been speaking to him, trevor wouldn’t have had a single clue as to what he was saying. the entire ride to the police station he was busy listening to the in-and-out crackling of the transmitter radio connected to the patrol car. he wasn’t listening to what the dispatcher was saying about situations that need police assistance, or even what the officers were saying in response to these calls. no, he was too busy listening to the static of the transmitter radio as it brought him some sort of weird comforting feeling in his drunken state. taking a deep breath to the beat of the static he sunk into the backseat, head still pressed against the glass staining it with blood and the lingering alcohol on his breath. the static helped lull him into a dreaming dazed state. one where he still had you. in his daydream, you were sitting on his lap as you and all of your friends were huddled around a fire at the hughes lake house. you had just spent the entire day wake surfing and tubing, and now you were sitting around the fire with newly sunkissed skin. the residue of s’more’s gracing the corners of both yours and trevor’s lips. you would be starting to fall asleep in his arms, lazily smiling and laughing at something cole had said before staring back up at trevor as his eyes would’ve already been on you. he was convinced that if you ever got back together his eyes would never leave you in fear of losing you again, so that’s how he pictured it. you falling asleep while staring up at him. surrounded by all of your friends, completely and utterly in love with each other. the sound of a page for officers interrupted the beauty of the transmitter radio static, as well as the daydream trevor, was lost in. groaning he smacked his head back against the headrest, starting the vicious self-loathing cycle he ended up when drunk - hating that he didn’t even know what he did wrong to have lost you.

“how did i ever think trevor would end up as a toxic person?”

before he knew it, officer collins was pulling open the back door again and greeted him with a tight-lipped smile. “alright kid let’s get this all over with.” sighing trevor barely nodded his head as collins pulled him out of the car, and slammed the door behind him once again. trevor kept his head down as he was led into the police station. praying that somehow, this would all work out where his name didn’t end up on page six of the local newspaper, and things wouldn’t reach the executive offices of the ducks. part of him knew it wouldn’t, not when charlie henderson couldn’t jeopardize himself or his last name either. yet as officer collins worked on taking his fingerprints he couldn’t help but begin to worry. about what you would think when you read about the charges in the local paper. what your parents would think, would they still like him? what his parents and family would say. he could already hear griffin’s voice saying ‘are you fucking stupid?’ but he was currently stuck on wondering what the ducks would say about all of this. what twitter would say, because sooner or later his entire life always ended up on twitter, it was always just a matter of time. somewhere in his train of thought, he was handed a plaque reading his name and the date for his mug shot, still clinging on to the piece of hope that all of this would get blown over as soon as charlie and his friends were brought in. he turned to the sides when told, hands tightly holding on to the black plastic in his hands. waiting patiently for his next instructions. until it happened, and he felt his heart race within the confines of his rib cage.

“alright kid, you can go make your phone call now.”

your mother seemed stunned at the question, you have completely caught her off guard once more. she remained silent as you tried to choke back the sobs that were about to resurface from earlier. remembering he hadn’t answered your phone call, wondering why you had felt like you weren’t enough for him, why you thought he would force you away from your dreams when he was the one who pushed you and supported you to try and accomplish them. (which you had since done. having graduated from boston college and were currently in the process of deciding which university to complete medical school at). you had helped save him countless of times before, no matter how drastic the measures you were there for him, and he was there for you. yet in your greatest time of need, when you needed him the most, you refused to open up enough to him to allow him to help combat your self-doubt and took the easy way out instead. “you lost your way for a little while, honey,” your mother finally spoke with ease to her words. trying her hardest to make you believe what she was saying. “you lost your way and lost sight of what was truly important to you other than your degree and med school, and that’s completely okay. you’re human - shit happens. you live and you learn. you lost sight of the person you loved because you were starting to lose yourself, but you’ve found your way back. it’ll all work itself out. eventually.” you threw yourself into your mother's arms, holding on to her for dear life.

as your father walked back into the living room (trying his hardest to act as if he hadn't heard the entirety of your conversation) he couldn’t help but smile at the scene in front of him. happy you were finally allowing yourself to grieve with the loss of trevor and yours relationship, and that you were trusting your mother with this information. finally trusting in yourself to come to terms with the fact you needed and wanted trevor in your life because you loved him deeply. he kissed the top of both yours and your mother’s head before taking his rightful seat again. just in time for the sound of a phone ringing to interrupt the tender moment being shared.

confused you pulled away from your mother's loving arms and fished your phone from the front pocket of your sweatshirt. confusion etched deeper in your face as the number popped up with a small caller id under it. licking your lips you looked at both of your parents as your heart started to race inside your chest, “it’s the police department.”

officer collins was nice enough to remove trevor’s handcuffs in order to make the call. so with shaky hands, trevor reached forward to the landline in a dimly light hallway. taking a deep breath in, he closed his eyes and punched in your phone number from memory. he could feel the tears prick at his waterline as he waited for you to pick up the phone. the dial tone rang loud in his ears until finally, it didn’t. and for the first time in three years, he heard the sound of your breathing. the silence was deafening as he waited for you to speak, desperate to hear your voice. then there it was: “hello?”

after watching your parents shrug their shoulders you made the split decision to answer the call. you were met with the sound of breathing on the other line, mind racing as to who could possibly be calling you from the police station at this time of night. when the person on the other end of the line hadn’t spoken you took it upon yourself to. “hello?” you asked with uncertainty in your voice, and just by the sound of their sigh of relief you knew who it was instantly. “t-trevor?” it came out it in a choked back whisper, your mind not able to process the fact he was most likely in jail. “what, why are you calling me from the police station?”

he could hear the panic in your voice through the phone, green eyes closing so he could picture what you looked like right now. the look of fear on your face from getting a call from an unknown number and it’s him. “uh, h-hi, y/n/n,” he slurred, tears slipping out of his closed eyes because he couldn’t believe it. you were on the phone with him. you were talking to him. this was real.

this was real. for both of you. trevor was in the police station. he’d been arrested and he had chosen to call you.

your heart dropped into your stomach as you felt anger rise through your body, yet you weren’t quite sure why. maybe it was because he had been arrested. maybe it was because the first time you’d heard from him in years was because he was calling you to come and bail him out. but at the same time, you tried to remain calm. preparing yourself for whatever it was that he was about to tell you. “so um, i’m sure you’re probably wondering what i’m doing calling you from the police station’s number.” he tried to force out a laugh, but next to nothing came out. and you could tell he was nervously waiting for your reaction.

“i mean it’s not every day you get a call from your ex-boyfriend.” your words had cut him deep. ‘ex-boyfriend’. he bit his lip in order to prevent a whimper from escaping his mouth at the dreaded word. “but then again, it isn’t every day you get a call from your ex-boyfriend who’s in jail, so yeah trev, i am wondering why you're calling me from the police station.” while your words had seemed bitter, your tone was nothing but soothing to him. he could tell you were currently trying to hold yourself together from the number of mixed emotions that had to have been coursing through your body. he also knew you meant no harm because you had called him ‘trev’. if you had called him anything other than that he knew you were over this. over him. over the phone call. over being his lifeline still after all this time. so with a small hopeful smile on his face, he started to make his case to you.

squeezing your mother’s hand you braced for the explanation you were bound to hear. mind racing, and emotions swirling around like a tornado in your body. “i saw you,” he whispered, voice breaking as he spoke. you didn’t need to hear what he said next to know he saw you at the stoplight with charlie, moments before your desaster of a date ended. “at the lights with charlie fucking henderson of all people!” that caused your blood to begin boiling. while his opinion of charlie was accurate, it still irked you that he had to make it known he disapproved. you weren’t his anymore. you didn’t owe him any reasoning on why you went out with charlie. on why you were allowing yourself to settle for him when all you wanted was trevor, but you couldn’t tell him that. you couldn’t allow yourself to give him that satisfaction when he was rotting in a jail cell with the other drunks that had been brought in for the night. “and it just, it ruined me, y/n/n. it ruins me, destroies me, sending me into a crippling to depression to see you when i come home every summer. to see you happy, without me. to see that our relationship must have meant nothing for you to just let me go like that. without a fucking reason as to why!” you didn’t know how much more you could take of his drunken ramblings, because hearing the truth come from his lips was something you never wanted to hear. you knew you hurt him, ripped his heart out and stabbed him in the back, but you never wanted to hear him say that. to hear what it felt like for him to come home and see you. “because i still love you, y/n/n. i love you more than anything in this world. so much so that i got into a bar fight with charlie to defend you against everything him and his friends were saying about you. so much that i’m calling you from jail. i love you so much that i can’t be in bedford anymore, and if i am here i have to drink away any and all thoughts of you because i promised to forget you when you broke up with me.”

trevor sat on the other end of the line, slumping against the white paint cracked walls. awaiting an answer from you after he had just poured his heart and soul out to you. he could hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears. felt the watchful eyes of officer collins, and now officer shandy, watching and listening to what could either break his heart all over again, or bring it back to life.

“y/n?” he whispered out into your ear. “are you - are you still there?” the worry in his voice was evident, he thought he was about to lose you all over again, and you could feel yourself slipping away from him once more. closing your eyes you fought with the tears, your head, and your heart as you pulled the phone away from your ear. “i’m sorry, i know that it’s a lot to take in. and you didn’t ask for any of this. or want any part of me any-” his voice was cut off by the sound the sound the dial tone. your finger having pressed the red button to end his drunken pleas with you. every thought you had about wanting to with him still tonight fluttering out the window, because a villain isn’t supposed to show remorse to those they hurt, they just keep hurting them.

the hockey player jumped up from his seated position as the dial tone filled his ears again. “no! no, no, no, no, no. y/n, baby please. please!” he all but screamed into the phone that no longer had a caller on it. officer collins and shandy both began moving closer to him, seeing this as a potential threat to himself. “fuck!” he all but raged as he slammed the black plastic back into its holder. then crumpling down into the floor. head between his knees as he sobbed to himself over losing you once again.

“y/n, why did you hang up on him,” your mother exclaimed. shocked that you had done what you just had after pouring your heart and soul out to her about how you still loved the twenty-two-year-old, and wanted to be with him again. “what about what you told me tonight? he still loves you!”

shaking your head you pushed yourself off the couch, reaching down for the new bottle of wine before making your way to the stairs. “and i love him,” you finally whispered out loud to both your parents. your e/c eyes stayed glued to the stairs as you tried to work yourself off the ledge you found your self towering on. “but i can’t love him when he’s like this, so i have to be the bad guy, because i can’t save him from himself this time.” you knew it was the truth, but still you couldn’t help but feel like you were lying to yourself. you were the one who caused this pain, this anguish for trevor, and it was only you who could save him from it. but you refused. so you walked up to your room, locking yourself in there with the full bottle of wine, taking a page out of trevor’s book and trying to drink any thought of him away.

officer collins crouched down in front of trevor and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “look kid, i’m really sorry she hung up on you,” he started to say with a sullen look on his face, “it wasn’t right of her to do that. not when you clearly still need her in your life, but unfortunately there’s nothing else we can do. we gotta put you in the holding cell until henderson finishes up, and then this will all go away. i promise. nobody will ever know.”

trevor’s head shot up to look at the middle aged man leaning over him. his head shaking vigorously to disagree with what he was saying. in an instant he was resting on his knees, clutching his hands together as he stared up at him. “i beg you, sir, just let me call.” his voice was filled with a pleading note as he stared up at officer collins, praying he could get through to him. “i’ll give you my blood alcohol, i’ll rot with all the burnouts in the cell,” he began to list while tears clung to his eyelashes. “i’ll change my faith, and and i’ll praise the flag!” he exclaimed, “let’s wait, i swear she’ll call me back.”

the oldest man in the hallway let out a sad sigh before glancing to his partner, then back down at trevor. “son, are you a danger to yourself?” he hated asking that question, but trevor was starting to scare him. he needed to know how concerned he should be regarding this situation.

anger flashed through trevor’s green eyes after the question was asked, and as it hung in the silence of the hallway he pushed himself up off the floor. shrugging away officer collins hands he scoffed, “fuck that, sir, just let me call.” the pleading look on his face was slowly starting to slip away into something almost nobody could read. “i’ll give you my blood alcohol. i’ll rot with all the burnouts in the cell. change my faith, and i’ll kiss the badge. please, let’s wait. i swear she’ll call me back.” this time he reached out forward and grabbed officer collins hands, begging with everything he had left in him. trying his hardest to flash what he considered his puppy dog eyes, and appeal to this mans better nature.

officer shandy stepped in next, his hand reaching for trevor’s shoulders and bringing his attention fully to him. trevor’s green eyes bored into his blue ones, and he could feel himself begin to crack under the honest weight the officers held. his charming demeanor falling as the questions was asked:

“son, why do you do this to yourself?”

it hung in the air as trevor’s shoulders sagged, showing that he was defeated. he was only twenty-two after all. twenty-two but still in love with a woman who didn’t want him anymore, and he just couldn’t let go of you. silently he thought to himself, about there possibly being another reason as to why he allowed this all to happen besides him still being in love with you. that maybe he feared something more than having lost you. “i’m not proud of all the punches that i’ve thrown,” trevor mumbled out into the silence, to be heard by the awaiting ears of the officers. “in the name of someone i no longer know.” a small smile cracked his face when he said that. thinking about you, what your voice sounded like, picturing that scared look on your face when you realized he was calling your from a police station. “for the shame of being young, drunk, and alone,” he finished while looking between the two. “but i would die for her, y/n, even if i don’t know her anymore.”

the three remained quiet for an unknown amount of time. it had seemed fitting to just sit there in a silence while they all tried to understand the full events of the night. their peaceful silence was broken by the wooden double doors being pushed open to what looked like on of the newer officers. “officer shandy, officer collins, sir, mr henderson his here and has requested the dropping of charges against trevor zegras, and for this all to go away,” he explained before slowly slipping back inside the lobby of the police station. trevor’s green eyes turned to stare at officer collins, waiting for some sort of directions.

“i told you it would work itself out kid, maybe there’s some hope after all for you,” he reasoned while beginning to lead trevor back into the main area. instead of taking a seat at officer collins desk trevor was brought face to face with the chain linked fence of the holding cell, only there was nobody else in there and it would be just him tonight. “this is just until somebody has time to drop you off at home, we’ve gotta file out this paperwork before we can.”

nodding his head trevor walked into the cell before slumping down against the bench. “i guess i shouldn’t have wasted my call on somebody who was just going to hang up on me, huh?” he tried to joke, only it didn’t help him like he thought it would. office collins gave him a tight lipped smile before turning on his heels and walking back to his desk. leaving trevor to slowly let his eyes close as he tried to block out everything regarding the events of tonight, hoping it would being him some sort of comfort if he did so.

as the sun disappeared, and the moon slowly got higher in the sky griffin, as well as the entire zegras household, was beginning to wonder just what had happened to trevor. “has anybody seen trevor?” julie asked, there being just a touch of panic in her voice. “he never came home after getting the groceries.” both ava and griffin shrugged their shoulders not having a clue as to where their brother went, while gary looked up from his newspaper bewildered by his wifes previous statement. griffin caught ava’s gaze from above his phone as they shared a look of ‘oh maybe we should be good siblings and go look for him’ before either of them got out of their seats and one inched towards the front door, while the other towards the stairs.

“hey mom, i’m gonna go to nico’s and catch up with him. don’t wait up,” griffin all but yelled before he slipped out of the house without waiting for a reply. once in the safety of his car he opened his phone to the messages with his little sister praying that she had somewhat figured out trevor’s location.

god trevor’s actually sofucking stupid. he’s at the police station. good lucksoldier

groaning griffin threw his head back against the headrest, of course trevor was at the police station. it was only a matter of time until his drinking got him stuck in there. shooting ava a quick text he threw his phone down and sped out of their drive way towards the police station, only slightly worried about what trevor was waiting for him when he got there.

there sound of a soft knock on your door startled you mid swig of wine, your body jolting forward enough to cause the red liquid to swirl around in the glass bottle. when the knock was heard again you set the bottle down and padded across the hardwood floor to your bedroom door. taking a deep breath you steadied yourself before reaching towards the silver handle, praying only slightly that when you opened the door it would be trevor standing there to greet you. to explain to you how all of this was just a misunderstanding, and it was all going to work out for the better. only when you pulled the door open you were met with your father’s sullen face, his hands clasped in front of him. “i know you’ve already talked enough about this issue tonight, sweetheart,” he started, his tone soft yet firm. “and there’s probably next to nothing left to say, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are the key to this solution, whether you like it or not, and i think it’s time you own up to it.” your eyes fell downcast as you took in his words, knowing that what he said held nothing but undeniable truth. shuffling you moved out of the doorway enough for your father to walk through before closing the door behind him. he led the way over to your bed, sitting himself on the edge, waiting for you to make the next move.

taking a deep breath you sat down next to him, eyes glancing towards the bottle before you looked down at your hands. “if i’m the solution, where do i start?”

it had seemed as if hours had passed by in the time trevor had closed his eyes until he heard yelling coming from every direction. only when he opened his eyes and found a clock he realized it had only been nearly twenty minutes. groaning he slammed his head back against the wall, green eyes glancing around the cell to see there was two new additions, nate and matt. trevor offered an awkward half wave to the two boys, which they both returned. “‘m sorry i beat you guys up,” he then apologized with sincerity in his voice. “y/n, she just, she means a lot to me. i still really love her, you know?”

matt couldn’t believe what he had just heard from trevor zegras mouth: an apology. one that definitely wasn’t needed seeing as the three of them were purposefully trying to get a rise out of the poor guy. pushing him to see how far he would get before seeing red. glancing over towards nate, matt made the decision to speak next. “no apology needed man, i mean we said some fucked up shit,” he addmitted, finally starting to not fear having an opinion that was different from charlie’s. “none of which was true by the way. we all know y/n isn’t boring, or her dreams don’t suck. charlie’s just jealous that she’s actually going to do something with her life and he’s going to be living off his trustfund.”

laughter erupted from the three men in the cell, all having agreed that charlie had no future. as the laughter began to die down nate sighed before being to speak next, “look man, we’re the ones who should be sorry. you knew your limit and when to stop, but we just helped hold you down as charlie tried to beat the shit out of you. we deserved everything we got tonight.”

trevor just barely nodded his head to agree with them both, eyes once against scanning the police station trying to find charlie. his curiosity suddenly getting the better of him and wondering why he wasn’t currently in the cell with them. “so, where is charles?” he then asked, the question hanging in the air, pushing down against his chest. because depending on what was said his whole future could be at stake. sure officer collins and shandy said mr. henderson was going to drop the charges, but that didn’t mean charlie would still try something to throw trevor under the bus. he could feel his anxiety rise because of the stituation at hand once more, being to bite his nails while he waited for an answer.

griffin took his time while driving to the police station. mostly because he was nervous to see his big brother behind bars, but partly because he wanted trevor to think nobody was coming to help him. of course griffin knew how self destructive trevor had gotten since your break up, the entire family did, but griffin was the only one who knew how bad it had gotten. he also knew you were still reeling in different feelings towards the nhl center, as he and ava were both still in contact with you. sure, he may have resented you a little bit for what you did up and out of the blue to trevor, but he also knew you must have had a reason to do so, so he didn’t judge. that much. that’s why he had tried countless times to break his brother’s harmful habits, knowing trevor had no chance to win you back if he kept falling down this path he was currently on. that’s why he took the twenty minute route to a destination that was only five minutes away, he wanted this time in that cell to mean something to trevor. he wanted him to reflect on himself, his actions, and how much he still truly loved you, because if he loved you the way he says he does, he’d stop the drinking with or without you. he just hadn’t come to that self discovery yet.

your father reached over and grabbed your hands, “start by forgiving yourself, y/n.” his e/c eyes that matched your own bored into the side of your head, waiting for you to turn and meet his gaze. willing you to do so, even though it was in vain. your eyes remained rooted forward, staring at your now intertwined hands. “you’re guilt ridden, and your bones are heavy with the grief of the love you once had. forgive yourself for letting it go, as your mother said earlier, you’re only human. forgive yourself, then you can forgive trevor. then you can call him.”

“charlie’s, uh, he’s in the process of having a screaming match with his father in the chief’s office,” matt explained with a crooked smile. “his dad is pissed he started something. again. but otherwise everything’s all good and has been taken care of. matt and i are just waiting for our rides home, what about you, z?”

the question stuck with trevor, ‘what about you, z?’ well he didn’t know what about him. he wasted his phone call on you, you hung up on him, and now he was stuck in the cell until and officer could drive him home. god what a shit show that was going to be. shrugging his shoulders he tried to appear as if he was coming off as his normal easygoing self. “officer collins is going to drive me home, nobody answered when i called home.”

sighing griffin killed the engine of his car and forced himself up and out of his car. he knew it was wrong to let his big brother sit and rot in there as long as he did, but it felt good doing it. he kept his eyes down while walking through the front door, making his way right to the front desk. leaning over it he waited for either an officer or receptionist to come and speak to him about what he was doing here. he waited a good five minutes, slowly taking in his surroundings and trying to locate his brother, but that was proved to be invain as he couldn’t the eldest zegras sibling anywhere. “hi honey, i hope you weren’t waiting too long,” a sweet older woman smiled while sitting back in her seat. “now, what can i do for you?”

tears stung your eyes as you looked over at your father, “how is it possible to forgive myself when all i’ve been is a horrible person in the last three years?”

“i’m here to pick up trevor zegras.”

trevor’s head lulled backwards as he listened to both matt and nate talk back and forth about something he had lost interest in minutes ago. eyes closing as he tried to find some sort of peace, to try and calm his murky mind. he tried to not think of you and the events that got him to this point in his life, but he couldn’t help but focus on them. starting to feel ashamed of causing himself nothing but pain from drinking every time he came home to bedford. ashamed that he was alone. ashamed he had even the slightest hope you had still wanted him, but now he knew you surely wouldn’t want him after his drunken call tonight. he didn’t even want him right now. he let out a quiet groan to himself in order to not disturb nate and matt’s rambling discussion, wishing there was a way he could separate himself as a person. so he could be the person he was before your relationship again instead of the drunken shell of a man he used to be. and then, something happened that he hadn't expected. “mr. zegras, your ride is here.” his green eyes shot open, frantically looking around for a figure that somewhat resembles you, only he couldn’t see one. officer collins was staring back at him as the cell door opened for his release. “they’re waiting for you in the lobby where you can collect your personal belongings.”

without another word trevor scrambled to his feet and padded slowly towards the open cell, glancing back to give the two other boys a half wave as a forced goodbye before walking out. silently he followed behind the officer who had shown him nothing but kindness, through the station, taking mental notes of every person he passed praying that he would be met with your face at some point. you had to be here. you had to have changed your mind and decided to come and pick him up, otherwise how was he getting released? biting his lip he began to fidget with his fingers as officer collins opened the door to the front lobby, and what he thought would be his breath of relief turned into his worst nightmare as he came face-to-face with his younger brother. “you’re not y/n,” he breathed, voice raked with nothing but sadness. “how did - griffin?” he then asked, completely bewildered by his younger brothers presence. he knew he should’ve been grateful. he no longer had to wait out an unnnecassary stay in the prison cell, but he couldn't help the way his heartached inside his chest while meeting his brothers stoic expression as tears began to slid down his sunskissed cheeks. “y/n, she didn’t come. i thought-” he cut himself off by clearing his throat and reaching up to wipe away the tears before they fell faster than he could stop. “nevermind, it - it doesn’t matter. let’s go home griff.” and just like that he tried his hardest to bottle up his emotions once again. mind racing to think of the next time he could get his hands on a case of beer.

m/n l/n sat quietly outside of your closed bedroom door. ear pressed against the white wood as she silently cried to herself over the heartbreak and turmoil her only child was going through. the wooden door had muffled the sounds of your father’s quiet voice, but she could still hear the combination of guilt and melancholy that was spoken with every word as he tried to reassure you that you were worthy of self forgiveness. that you weren’t the horrible person you had thought you were. she also knew that while he words were directed at you, he was speaking to himself as well. because deep down she knew your father still held guilt for putting their relationship on pause, and thought because of his actions when he was your age, this was the world’s karma by creating a similar situation with his daughter. your mother could never truly understand the pain the both of you felt, which is why she sat outside your bedroom praying to herself that you would take your father’s advice to forgive yourself. praying that after all this time he would finally forgive himself.

“y/n,” your dad whispered with a broken smile, “i’m going to be completley honest with you sweetheart. while i don’t believe you’ve been a horrible person these past three years, i can’t give you the answers that you’re looking for.” your bloodshot e/c eyes snapped over to him within seconds. he squeezed your hands lovingly before he pulled his e/c away from your own. “i still haven’t figured out how to forgive myself for leaving your mother all those years ago. i wish i could help you the way that you need me now, but i - i don’t have the answers. because i don’t think-” he let out a solemn sigh before looking back over at you with tears in his own eyes. “i don’t think we would’ve found our way back to each other if it weren’t for that night in the emergency room. every time i tried to work up the courage to call her, i panicked. i wouldn’t allow myself to stop dwelling on the pain that i had caused her for that year apart from each other. the exact same thing you’re doing by not allowing trevor back into your live - because you can’t stop thinking about the pain you caused him. but sweetheart,” he explained with wisdom only a father would have, “this chance you have to let him back into your life? it may not come again, so it’s up to you to decide what you want to do with it before it’s too late. and you’ll know, deep down in that giant heart of yours, whether you love him enough to forgive yourself, or if you’re going to hold one mistake over your head for the rest of your life as it passes you by.”

you forced a laugh as you stared over at him and processed his tough love words. “if i knew you weren’t right i would be so mad at you right now, dad,” you confessed as you dropped your head against his shoulder. his own finding it’s place on top of yours. there was a long beat of silence before you decided to speak again. “i’m happy you were in the er that night, dad. you and mom are my idolization of love, and i just, if it hadn’t worked out for the two of you i wouldn’t have anything to believe in.”

this time a sad chuckle passed by his lips before he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, “kid, if it didn’t work out for your mom and me, my greatest blessing in life wouldn’t be sitting right here next to me.”

the silence was louder than any music that girffin could’ve been chosen to play. trevor was turned to face away from his younger brother, head pressed against the glass window once again. his sliding down against it while he tried to hide his face. “so,” griffin finally worked the courage to speak, “do you want to tell me what happened that you ended up in prison and were expecting y/n to pick you up?”

taking a breath trevor turned to face his fears which were currently in the form of explaining his downfalls to his younger brother. “it’s a long story, griff,” he whispered, reaching up to wipe away his tears once again. “one we don’t have the time for, and i’m not ready to relive.”

scoffing griffin pulled the car over on the side of the road. “we have nothing but time, trevor!” he yelled, voice cracking as he did so. “now, i deserve an explanation as to why ava and i had to go and pick up the groceries from the middle of a parking lot. an explanation on why you ended up in prison! why you’re nose is broken, and your knuckles are beaten to shit. please, trevor, i’m your little brother, and i’m scared.” that’s when the tears started to fall down his own cheeks. “you’re scaring me. you’re scaring ava. mom, dad. so at the very least, i deserve an explanation. because three years ago you weren’t the only person who lost y/n. i lost her too. we all lost her. what we didn’t expect was losing you too.”

the silence was so loud that both trevor and griffin heard the sound of trevor’s heart shattering into the pit of his stomach.

“you’re right,” trevor cried while meeting his brother’s stare for the first time since getting in the car. “you guys lost y/n, just like i did, and you didn’t deserve to watch me fall apart as you have for the past three summers.” his mouth went dry as he thought of what he could possibly say next, and what his brother needed to hear in order to correct his mistakes. “but you have, and it isn’t fair. none of this is fair, because life - life like to fucking kick your ass. so i’ll tell you, but only you, griff. you can’t go running to tell ava, or mom, or dad. only you.”

the younger brother nodded his head instantly, forcing himself to stop crying to be strong for his brother. “start wherever, i’m listening, trev.”

taking a deep breath trevor steadied his nerves and started his story with the end. “i gave y/n’s name as my emergency call.”

----

taking a deep breath you could feel as your world began to spiral out once again like it had two nights prior. since you’d hung up on trevor, you had listened to your father’s advice and taken the past two days to think about things once more. to see them in a different light despite how much your head told you it was wrong, in your heart you knew it was time. so after listening to his voicemail one more time, you had made up your mind. it was second nature as you started to dial his phone number, not wasting time to find his nameless contact.

picking at your nails you waited anxiously as the dial tone played in your ears.

it went through once.

then twice.

finally, a third time before your call was connected.

and with a shaky breath, you breathed out his name for both you to hear. “trevor?”