#everyone in the neighborhood: so that's....that's your wife huh

[melancholicbutterflies]

You Don’t Own Me

Summary: You’re tired of Elvis always telling you what you can and cannot do as his wife. You decide to pushback. He puts you in your place.

Warnings: underage, smut, dubious consent, bdsm themes (dd/lg), cursing, yandere!Elvis themes, breeding kink, 18+ (cannot stress this enough!) 

Word Count: 4,046

It was a decision you would come to regret, but you were young and naive, and dreaming of a better life. 

You met him at your high school. Elvis, up and coming rock ‘n roll sensation, had just returned from two years in the service and had successfully reformed his bad boy image in the eyes of parents everywhere. As such, he was permitted in venues since objected to (and the ones of teenage girls’ wet dreams). 

Elvis the Pelvis was coming to your school, and students and teachers alike were all abuzz. Growing up in a very Christian family, you weren’t allowed to watch his performances, and knew only what you heard from friends of less strict upbringings, and the odd radio programming when you snuck into the teacher’s lounge. 

Nothing could prepare you for what he looked like up close. Thick, dark hair that was somewhat cartoonish framed a devilishly handsome, tanned face with high cheekbones, sultry eyes, and a snarling smile that beckoned you. And he was tall, taller than any of the boys in class (although they were much younger, you had to concede). Still, he looked dapper in his suit, his well-loved acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder, devil hips cocked to one side. 

He was a stunner, all right, and you were as good as gone. 

You watched as he gave each and every person his undivided attention, all smiles and bashful head ducks. You wouldn’t have pegged him for humble, couldn’t imagine him being so with the amount of talent and charm and good looks he’d been endowed with, but he surpassed your every expectation. He was here to teach some scripture, and at some point he wove in some music, too. His voice was like a siren’s, no business singing such innocently devout lyrics. 

At the end everyone clapped, and he went to signing autographs; the line took up the whole classroom and wrapped around the hallway as other students from classes that broke out joined in. 

When it was your turn, he started, “who should I make it out to?” Pen poised, eyes tired as he lifted them to look at you with a waning smile, and he stopped. Nearly dropped the pad of paper then and there as he stared at you. You stared back, entranced, and found you were the first to break eye contact. “Well, it’s Y/N.” 

“Y/N, huh” he snapped out of his reverie, eyes alight with... something, as he licked his lips. “What a pretty name for a pretty gal,” he scribbled something on the pad of paper, barely legible, but finished with a heart. His next words you couldn’t predict in your most wondrous of fantasies: 

“Say, you wouldn’t wanna grab a burger and shake with me one o’ these days, would ya? Or am I gettin’ ahead of myself?” 

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, in shock. He laughed, hair flopping as his head tossed back. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

You nodded vigorously, finally finding your words, albeit breathily. “Yes!” 

“It’s a date,” he said lowly, gaze now stuck on your lips. 

It was nothing short of sweet. You avoided your coworkers interested looks as you sat down with Elvis, who’d held your purse as you slid in the booth opposite. You were hungry and he vocalized he liked a girl who ate and set down a tip that was more than you made in a shift. Ice cream followed, a nice walk in the park, and he drove you home, politely not commenting on the sort of neighborhood you lived in. “I had a nice time,” he said in the low light of the fading sun, leaning in real close. “I did, too.” You said it as you looked down in your lap until he picked your chin up, forcing your gaze to his. You thought he looked sinful for someone so religious. 

“Good, because I really wanna kiss you, Y/N.”

You stopped him with a hand at his clavicle. “I can’t.” Looking backward, he saw a figure by the window, felt your sudden nervousness. It was about more than just want, and thankfully he understood. “Sure, baby, I get it. You’re unspoiled, aren’t you?” His eyes implored you. 

Reticently, you nodded, not fully understanding his meaning but knowing enough. 

It should have concerned you how happy he looked at that. 

Pretty soon he showed up everywhere. At the local diner, your ballet lessons, even one late night you were out walking your dog, Marnie. You could have sworn you saw a car at the end of the street, eyes watching under darkness. It was unnerving, it was exciting; you hadn’t experienced the weight of someone’s entire attention on you before now.

If you were less naive, you might have questioned why a grown man who had plenty else to do was expending so much effort getting to know you. It all became clear one day when he took you out to dinner, not just at any restaurant, but the fanciest one in town, followed by a romantic moon-lit walk at the beach and kneeled before you in the sand asking you to marry him. 

You said yes, of course, and he looked like the happiest man alive as he wrapped you up in a breathtaking kiss. You two couldn’t wait to get to his hotel, and made love right then and there, the sounds of the ocean waves lapping in the distance. 

He wanted to marry at once, and only a few days later you were at the courthouse exchanging vows. None of your friends could come (they were all in school), and only a few of his came, including his father, who hadn’t exactly looked favorably on you, but knew his son couldn’t be reasoned with once he set his mind to something. The colonel scowled in the corner, smoking his pipe up a storm. Your mom and dad wanted nothing to do with the whole affair and had all too happily washed their hands of you, signing paperwork to allow you to wed before your eighteenth birthday. 

When it was time to say, ‘I do’, you did so enthusiastically, and a beautiful smile broke out on his handsome face. He pulled you in, thumbing your bridal veil, and kissed you like a man possessed. You were forever changed in that moment. 

Mrs. Elvis Presley. It was like a dream come true.

And for a while, it was. 

Elvis was attentive, doting, a true joy to be around. He took care of everything for you. You wanted for nothing. You were happy, happier than you ever thought possible in your short and, up till now, wretched life. Elvis changed everything for you, and you were eternally grateful. 

But, like all dreams, there came a time when reality set in. The bubble burst. Oh, boy, did it ever. 

It started with little things, at first. 

Before he’d met you, you worked at a diner waiting tables. Now that you were married, he claimed there was no reason to keep waitressing. “Waste of time,” he remarked, “’sides, who’d wanna keep on their feet like that all day long when you don’t have’ta? Nuh-uh, didn’t think so. You’ll put in your notice tomorrah’.” 

You thought to object, but he had a point. It was enjoyable enough to you, sure, passed the time all right, and gave you some pocket change to buy things for yourself that your parents never would. But now with Elvis occupying your days, and making just about a hundred times what you ever did after a full day’s work just sitting around, what was the point? Your coworkers, as nice as they were, were hardly reason enough. 

So you promptly shut your mouth and smiled, giving him a big hug, and that was that. 

Then it was your hair: 

“Oh, doll,” he crooned one night after a heavy bout of lovemaking, running his meaty paw through your thick, wavy hair. “Wouldn’t you look good with straightened hair?” 

You turned to him in mild surprise, still blissed out. “You never said a thing about my hair before. Don’t you like it?”

“Oh, ‘course I do, baby. I just thought you might like to keep up with the fashion is all. All them girls have their hair straight these days.” 

“I guess that’s true.” You admitted. “And, say, maybe you ‘oughta darken it while you’re at it. Might be nice to have us match, you know.” You touched a hand to your hair, furrowing your brows as he leaned in to nuzzle your neck, applying light, sweet kisses there. It was awfully distracting, your hand falling limp on the bed as you gasped. 

“Promise me you’ll think ‘bout it, at least...” He murmured low between kisses that went ever lower. “Oh, sure.” 

“Good girl,” he growled, and he said something about “...have Jer make an appointment at that salon o’ Sandy’s.” And he proceeded to eat you out. 

As time went on, that charming, subtle needling to shift your behaviors in his favor turned meaner:

Once before a press conference, he stopped you in the hallway, seizing your arm. “Hey, what’s wrong—” you winced as he twisted it around harshly in an effort to inspect your hand. “Quit it, E, that hurts.” 

“What is this?” He looked at you angrily, disappointed, even. 

“What is what?” You didn’t see anything other than your ring, which was where it should be, on your ring finger without anything out of the ordinary. When you saw where his eyes were directed, you realized he meant your nail polish. 

“So it’s a little chipped. Who cares?”

“Who cares?” He seethed. “I care, and if you had any sense in ya you would too! Everything you do reflects on me, little girl, so when you look like a cheap hussy, you make me look bad. Make ‘em think I can’t take care of my baby. Get it?” 

He wasn’t shouting, he wasn’t even raising his voice, but the venom dripping from his quiet wrath was so much worse. 

Tears built at the corner of your eyes and you ducked your head, turning on your heel to run back toward the bedroom before he caught you by the arm again. You thought he’d apologize, say he overreacted. He didn’t. Instead he said: “Dry those eyes, girl, and put on a smile. I don’t care if it ain’t real, but I won’t have ya embarrassin’ me.” 

It only snowballed from there.

Your whole wardrobe was thrown out, and a new one replaced to match with Elvis’. You didn’t finish school, didn’t do ballet anymore. You still cooked and baked now and then, but only on special occasions. Mary did all the real cooking in the house, and she already knew what Elvis liked and she did it well. Drinking, although technically not even legal, was forbidden (“a lady shouldn’t drink, you’ll get sloppy and less chivalrous men than myself’ll take advantage. Don’t want that, do ya?”)

Want to go to the movie with some friends? Think again. Boys weren’t allowed anywhere in your vicinity: he barely let Red, trusted bodyguard of the Memphis Mafia, guard you. He said he didn’t like his wandering eye one time. Personally, you thought he was delusional, but didn’t bother arguing since you hadn’t exactly taken a liking to the man. 

Your friends were more acquaintances now, and when you saw them, you didn’t know what to say. They’d moved on, had new friends or new boyfriends. They felt you abandoned them (you did, although not intentionally). You never felt more alone in your life, and yet you were never alone; Elvis made sure of that, always having someone stay behind to watch you when he couldn’t.

Eventually it was the summer, your first summer as a married couple in fact, and you were invited to your cousin’s wedding. It was her high school sweetheart; they got the bug from you and wanted to get hitched as soon as they graduated high school. You were hellbent on making it to that wedding, come hell or high water. Elvis, as your husband, was of course also invited and expected as your plus one. They were renting out a small venue in Nashville, and the bride-to-be wanted you as her bridesmaid if not the maid-of-honor (a role you suspected in the back of your mind would have easily been yours pre-Elvis, but post-Elvis you was less reliable, and you couldn’t fault her for making that decision). 

Elvis’ first reaction to it surprised you. After all, he’d hardly wanted you to leave his side and had grown increasingly controlling. So when he said, “Sure, hunny,” you almost questioned if you’d imagined it.

You were ecstatic. “Oh, thank you, Elvis. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Each word of gratitude was punctured by a kiss all over his face and any other bare patch of skin you could reach. He laughed that booming laugh of his and pulled you in to give you a proper one. “Well, if that’s the way you were gonna thank me I ‘oughta have more o’ your friends get married!” 

This was Fall. Now that it was summertime, and the wedding weekend was upon you, he put his foot down. 

“No,” he said simply, not even sparing you a glance as he casually strummed his acoustic guitar, legs spread apart on the couch. Your mouth nearly fell to the floor, and you felt a distinct ringing in your ears, your heartbeat speeding up. Blinking, you saw a few of his Mafia crew milling about, pretending they’d gone deaf and blind as your temper rose. 

“What?” You screeched. 

You did. 

You almost forgot what it sounded like, your defiance. It was spectacular, and you thought you had never felt so angry in your life. 

And you had a right to, damn it. You did everything this man said and more. You dyed your hair black, you straightened it to his liking, you always had a fresh paint of nails, you wore the dresses he picked out for you, even the ones with the ruffles that you couldn’t stand, and wanted to make you tear your eyes out of your sockets. You stopped working because he said so (although that was not entirely something worth fighting). But you left school, and you stopped talking to your friends for months until they stopped trying so hard and all you had was him and his damn Mafia. The girlfriends and wives didn’t even hardly talk to you. You were too young and there was very little in common. 

You think you spewed all this out to him in your rage, not thinking it even made sense, but you wanted him to feel what he put you through, and being his wasn’t enough if you didn’t have a life outside of his wants and desires. 

Finally, chest heaving, out of words to say in your tirade, you saw him through blurry, teary eyes. He’d frozen, shoulders hunched, body tensed for a fight. He looked around the room, but he needn’t — his Mafia was nowhere to be seen now. His eyes cut to you, dark and stormy, as he rose to his full height and strode towards your panting figure. 

It was a sight to behold, your husband so angry. He’d been cross with you — lord knew he’d been annoyed on many an occasion — but enraged was new. It felt like the point of no return. Like he’d really hurt you this time, all those words about never laying a hand on a woman falling by the wayside.

“Now, Elvis, hold on now—”

“Long past time for that, baby. You been backsassin’ me and I won’t stand for it.”

Your eyes cut to the side, seeing a crack in the doorway.

“Don’t you even think about it, lil’ girl.” Elvis growled. You yelped as he took you in his arms, forcefully tugging you to the couch where he fell back against it, the momentum leaving you to fall across his lap in a rather unlady-like manner. 

“Elvis, please, I’m sorry,” you began, attempting in vain to rise from the precarious position he had you in. His arm only tightened its hold around your waist much like a boa constrictor around its prey. “Should’a thought ‘a that before you went off like that. Now, sit tight and take your punishment.” 

He hit you, then. He actually did it. But it wasn’t across your face or strangling your neck like you’d heard some women claiming of their husbands. He’d pulled up your dress so that it hung your belly and pulled down your lace underwear so that you were bare-bottomed and smacked your butt with his open palm, rings and all. 

You gasped first, shocked that it had happened, and that it felt like it did; the contrast of his warm skin and the cold metal rings was a contrast you hadn’t known you needed. Then as one became two, and two became three, and four and five, and so on... you’d lost track, a strange feeling built up in your lower abdomen that felt familiar yet also foreign. 

Were you... enjoying this absurd, perverted version of punishment?  Surely you weren’t getting turned on by your husband beating you like an errant child? 

And yet... you couldn’t deny the flare of hot want flowing through you, and you certainly couldn’t deny the wet stickiness that started collecting in your bared cunt. You had to bite your lip from making your desire audible; you were angry, aghast that your husband would go to such lengths for simply voicing your very legitimate frustrations to him. 

When a slap fell slightly lower, just catching the bottom of your pussy lips, you couldn’t contain your excitement. A moan slipped past your lips. 

Elvis froze, cock hardening in his pants some.

Your eyes widened, cursing yourself internally. The last thing you wanted was for the bastard to know some part of you was enjoying yourself. You wouldn’t look at him, burying your head in the side of his thigh, even as you felt that hot and searing gaze of his on you. You were humiliated, something you hadn’t thought possible after what he’d already done. 

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice deeper, thick with lust. “Seems my baby likes this more than she should.” 

“Please, Elvis, let me go,” you begged.” You’ve had your fun, being humiliated like this is punishment enough.” 

He laughed, barrel chest vibrating against you. “Oh, hunny, I ain’t nearly done with you. In fact,” he circled your ass with his palm, your slick wetting his fingers now. “The fun’s just begun.” 

“What—” You interjected, only to cry out loudly (or perhaps moan, it was some contrived version of the two), as he promptly pushed his fingers deep into your crevice, the warm, wet walls hugging his long digits with gusto. 

He hissed, “oh, baby girl, that vice of yours just about does my head in. I need to be inside you now.” He started fumbling with his slacks, the belt coming undone in record time as he pulled his rock-hard cock out of his boxers. He gave it a good tug, grimacing at the action. The tip was red and weeping, practically twitching with need. 

“C’mere,” he said, positioning you where he wanted you like a doll. “On all fours, that’s right, just like that hunny.” Your knees met the carpeted floor, hair falling around you like a curtain as your head bent. You know he could go deep like this, but usually you had sex facing one another. He could piss you off to no end, but sex was always a sacred thing between you two. This felt cold, unfeeling. Fucking was what it was; he could care less to see you, he only wanted to possess you. You felt cheap, a plaything — and yet your cunt continued to thud with need. 

“Jesus, you’re a pretty sight,” he rubbed his cock over your pussy lips, grab at your ass, take another smack of it and delighting in the jiggle of it. “Please, Elvis, just...” You pleaded, and he cut a look at you. “Don’t think you’re much in the position to be makin’ any sorta demands, doll.” 

You hung your head, sighing, waiting for him to get his fill. “Oh, hell,” he said, “you’re lucky I can’t hardly wait anymore either.” And with that he pushed into you, causing a surprised yelp to leave your throat. Pulling on your hair, causing your back to arch towards him, he set a punishing, brutal pace, one that hard you seeing stars. In this position, he could hit your g-spot dead on, and hit it he did. 

“Oh, godddd,” you groaned, scraping a hand back to hold onto his arm holding onto you. He huffed a laugh that turned strangled toward the end. “Not God, darlin’, but close.” 

You would have snorted at the cheesy line if you weren’t full of his cock. 

“Nothin’ to say?” He taunted. “That’s a real shame. To think you just needed some good dick to quiet down. Bet you ain’t never had one good as me.” 

It wasn’t a statement, he expected an answer, but you were too far gone in the blissed-out feeling to recognize it.

Smacking your sore ass harshly, he repeated his words. “Ain’t you? Say it, or I swear to God I’ll stop right now and won’t let you come.” 

“Yes, E, yes! You’re the best I’ve had,” you cried as the building sensation waned. “That ain’t my name, try again.” 

“Daddy,” you whispered, feeling some shame about it. You always felt weird about calling him that even though your relationship with you father had never been close, but he demanded you refer to him in that way. 

“Daddy what?”

“Daddy you’re the best I’ve ever had,” you admitted. He smiled; really, you would have said anything to have him keep fucking you the way he was.

“That’s right,” he pet your head, slipping his cock back into your tight hole as your eyes rolled back in your head. “You’re my good girl when you’re like this, almost forgotten you was bad earlier. Throwin’ a temper tantrum back there after all I done for you. Ungrateful. And for what? Some weddin’ you felt you needed to go to?” He tutted you, each word punctured by a punishing stab at your cervix; the pain intermingled with pleasure to create a heady concoction leaving you at a loss of words. Intelligible ones, anyhow. 

“Ye-ah...” you moaned. 

“What was that?” Elvis goaded, pinching your swinging titties between his hands. 

“A-agree, I w-was bein’ bad.” 

“Right. ‘Cause the only person you should be worryin’ about is me. Your husband.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed deeply. “Need you just as much, more than ‘em. Can’t have you halfway ‘cross the state if somethin’ came up.” 

He soothed your head, running his fingers through your dampening hair. “Need my yittle baby by my side, and she needs her daddy,” he cooed in the baby-talk language he loved so much. 

You nodded, more so due to the buildup in your pelvic region. He groaned, feeling the tighening in his balls as your walls started fluttering around him. 

“Shit, hunny, you got me ready to burst. You gon’ take it? Take all my lovin’?” 

“Yes, Daddy! I’ll take it all.” 

“Gonna fill you up,” he mumbled, hips moving erratically now. “Fill you up with my babies ‘till your big and swollen with my seed. Shi-itt—!” 

You cried out at the sensation of his warmth shooting into you, triggering your orgasm. 

“Agh!” He yelled, falling over you, hips slowly still moving as if to fuck more into you. You collapsed on the floor, and he was right behind you. You two laid on the floor in the fading light that spilled through the French windows. 

Turning so that he was looking at you, he pulled your face to his in a deep, slow kiss. “You gonna let Daddy take care of you?” 

You hesitated, knowing what he wanted of you. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll make the call tonight.” 

He grinned, looking every bit the angel and devil as he hovered over you. “Good girl.” 

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Taking Over the Neighborhood

Prompt Day 21: Snow | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Fluff, Neighbor Meet-Cute, Snow, Platonic Stobin, Cat People, Eddie POV

Eddie hates winter. 

It's cold. It's miserable. 

And the snow. 

The goddamn, motherfucking snow. 

He looks out the window, and he's not sure he's even gonna be able to get home by closing time. That's the shitty thing about working nights in the winter. Sometimes, when you're really unlucky, you get stuck at work.

They get a few more inches of snow, but he's determined to make it home, come hell or frozen water. His van can just suck it up.

He has to drive about ten miles per hour, but he does make it home. Then he gets to wade through his snow-covered sidewalk. Fantastic. 

His jeans are wet from the knees down, and he's freezing, so he jumps in the warm shower. Even if he'd really rather just crash.

The next day, he wakes up just after lunch, and while he's drinking his first cup of coffee, he notices that his walk has been shoveled. That's weird. He definitely doesn't know any of his neighbors that well. He hasn't lived here long, and his schedule isn't exactly ideal for meeting neighbors. Maybe it's some of the kids in the neighborhood, and he owes them money now. Which, he wouldn't mind paying, he definitely appreciates it.

Maybe he'll see 'em out working.

So, Eddie sits by the window and waits. Soon enough, a guy is walking across the street with a snow shovel. Eddie's never seen him before in his life. Doesn't know if he has a wife, a boyfriend, six kids or a dozen cats. No clue. Maybe all of the above, for all Eddie knows.

But, Eddie pours another mug of coffee, slides on his boots, zips up his coat and goes out to thank him.

The guy's just walking up the driveway when Eddie opens the door, and he freezes in his tracks.

"Hey, thank you, your handiwork is greatly appreciated!" Eddie hollers, offering him a big smile. "I'm Eddie."

"I'm Steve," Steve says, and Eddie smiles at him. "I kinda figured that either you worked nights, or were a vampire," Steve teases, "But look at you! Out in the daytime."

Eddie laughs, "Not a vampire. Bar owner, though, so lots of late nights," Eddie says.

"I hope you don't mind, I was doing mine, and just thought I'd help."

"I really appreciate that help, Steve," Eddie says, handing him the cup of coffee. Steve accepts it with thanks, and Eddie takes the shovel from his hands, and shovels up the small amount of new snow that fell overnight.

"So, a bar, huh? Which one?" Steve asks, and Eddie pauses for a second.

"Hellfire Club," Eddie finally says.

"Oh, that's cool! Small world. My best friend and I have been there a few times. It's great. We liked it a lot. There's not a lot of queer-friendly bars in the area, and a new one is always appreciated," Steve says, and Eddie relaxes.

"I'm glad you guys liked it," Eddie says, smiling, "it's taking up all my time. Hence, the rumors of me being a vampire, apparently."

Steve laughs, and Eddie leans on the shovel, just looking at him. He's very pretty, and maybe, some flavor of queer.

It's Eddie's lucky day.

"You hungry? I can make breakfast? As a thank you for all your manual labor," Eddie offers, and Steve actually nods, which sends a thrill through Eddie. He hadn't expected that, not really.

But he ushers Steve into his house, and they both take off their snow boots at the front door, and then Eddie leads him into his kitchen. "There's more coffee in the pot," Eddie says, and he watches as Steve refills his mug. "Milk or cream in the fridge if you want some, and sugar in the container right there," Eddie adds, pointing.

And Steve doctors up his coffee.

"I should have asked earlier, I forget not everyone drinks it black," Eddie says.

"Oh, I like it both ways," Steve says, stirring his coffee with a spoon he got out of the dish drainer. 

Eddie would be so lucky, if Steve likes it both ways.

Steve scoots onto the bar stool, and drinks his coffee while Eddie makes breakfast. 

"How do you like your eggs?" Eddie asks.

"The runnier the better," Steve says, and Eddie pulls his hands to his heart, dramatically. 

Steve laughs.

"A guy after my heart," Eddie declares, and starts frying some bacon, and puts bread in the toaster.

"How long have you lived across the street?" Eddie asks, glancing over his shoulder at Steve.

"Four, no, five years. My best friend, Robin and I, moved from a small town in Indiana," Steve says.

"I didn't know who lived over there. Single person? Family with six kids? A dozen cats? It could have been any combination," Eddie teases.

"Well, it's one bisexual, one lesbian, no kids, and 2 cats."

Eddie smiles, teasing, "We're taking over the neighborhood."

"The gays?" Steve asks, grinning.

"No, the cat people," Eddie teases, clicking his tongue and a big, black cat comes racing into the kitchen.

"That's Midnight."

Steve reaches down and scratches him behind the ears, and it makes Eddie smile.

Once the food is ready, they sit side-by-side and eat at the counter. Midnight eating his lunch in the corner, on the floor. They talk, and Eddie is happy he's making a friend in town. 

Then there's knocking on the front door, and Eddie gets up to go answer it. That's weird. Gareth would just walk in, so he doesn't know who it'd be.

He opens the door to a woman with a bob haircut, "Did you kidnap my best friend?"

"Yes, and I'm force feeding him breakfast," Eddie answers. "You must be Robin."

Steve laughs from the kitchen, then hollers, "How did you even know I was over here?"

"I followed your footprints. And I saw your shovel, dingus," she says, and pushes her way inside. 

Eddie steps aside to let her enter.

Maybe he'll make two new friends today.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[rambosgirl]

Sheriff's Daughter Pt.2

If you haven't read part 1, it's right here

The pair had been walking for some time, eventually making it to the main road that lead into town, talking and learning about each other as they went.

Rambo learned that you lived with your parents in the town they were walking to, called Hope, and you frequently visited the less fortunate where they just were. He thought that was sweet.

You learned that the man beside you wasn't the most talkative person, but he did tell you a bit about himself when you asked. His name was John, John Rambo, a war veteran from Vietnam. He was here to try and meet up with a fellow soldier, Delmar he said, but it turned out he had passed away from cancer.

You had already known that from helping his wife, you just didn't know he was so close to him.

"I'm so sorry to hear that John." Your heart sank for him.

"Thank you, I just don't know where to go next."

"You can stay in Hope, I can help you," you started, "If I told my father about you I'm sure he'd help you too." You spoke enthusiastically, something John thought to be cute, but more realistically, it was probably just wishful thinking.

"Your enthusiasm is...refreshing," he started, "but not everyone is as kind as you are."

The two of you continued walking in silence for a while. It wasn't awkward like one would think. It was actually quite peaceful. You were able to walk in the company of one another while taking in the late autumn beauty that surrounded you, the occasional car passing you by. After more time had passed, you broke the silence.

"Hey John?"

"Yeah," came his reply.

"I have to turn soon to get home, kind of a back way into the neighborhood..." you paused, "I have to take care of my horse, but I'm going into town after, so maybe I'll see you there?" The truth was, you really wanted to see him again, you just didn't want to say it out loud.

John seemed to like that idea, or so you thought. He was a little harder to read to you, so you weren't sure.

The truth for him was, he really did like that idea, and he was about to bring it up. He didn't normally like spending time with others, but you? You made it easy.

"Yeah, I'll probably be getting some food if I can."

You assumed that was his way of inviting you to join him.

"That's a good thing you're hungry, I know the perfect place. I'll try to be quick so you don't get too bored," you said, giving him a bright smile.

"The perfect place, huh?" A small chuckle escaped him. "Yeah, I can do that."

You slowed your pace, eventually stopping so you could make your turn. You pointed ahead of you.

"See the bend in the road? Just beyond that is Hope. Just turn right. I'll meet you in front of the police station on the main road and then we can go eat together."

"Got it," he said, looking over at that bridge. He turned to look at you. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure." You looked at him a moment longer before continuing. "I'll see you in a bit."

He nodded but kept his eyes on the road for a bit to make sure you were safe starting down your path before continuing on his own.

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

You got home fairly quick, not wanting John to wait too long without you. As you passed the pasture in your backyard, you saw your buckskin gelding, Bullet, happily munching on the rest of his breakfast alfalfa.

"Did dad feed you this morning?" you asked him. He just kept eating in response.

When you walked into the house, you noticed your father had already left for work. You wanted to do something nice for him for feeding Bullet, so you went outside to your small fruit trees and grabbed the fruit to bring to the police station. You quickly changed into a warmer outfit, since it was getting colder than you thought and you wanted to take Bullet into town.

'If I take Bullet, I can get to the police station faster and meet John,' you thought as you made your way out of the house and headed to your small barn to grab your steed.

You and Bullet made it to the main street, the police station in sight. You tied his lead rope to a post nearby and walked in with the fruit basket, automatically hearing a chorus of greetings from the officers there. You knew all of them from visiting so often for your dad, and often some would flirt with you. You tried to ignore it most of the time since to you, the only genuinely nice officer was Mitch, a younger redhead deputy.

"Hey, where's my dad?" you asked a group of officers.

"He went out in his car a while ago. Should be back soon," Mitch said walking closer to you. You offered him a small smile before opening your mouth to respond.

"Oh alright. I'll just -- "

"What have you got there little lady?" You turned to see Arthur Galt there, trying to see in your basket.

"It's just fruit, Arthur", you started, looking at him sternly. "and it's for my dad."

You were starting to stress out a bit. John was probably out there waiting for you while you were inside. You had to hurry this up.

"Well, Dad could be a while so I'll just leave these here for him. And don't eat all of them before he gets here please?" You asked, looking at Arthur and Mitch before beginning your journey toward the front doors.

It turned out you didn't have to wait for your dad much longer, as you saw him walking up from outside. The only problem was that John was with him. In handcuffs.

----

@akitasblogs @dumbasssimp Here it is! So sorry this took so long for part 2! My motivation is back so hopefully it stays long enough for me to get another part out soon

[blkmorticia]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝟐 — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. AARON TAYLOR JOHNSON X BLACK!READER

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. In which Aaron finds his obsession for y/n goes deeper than he thought.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 16560 (yes. you read that correctly.)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. Dark!ATJ + Panty Kink + Mentions Of Infidelity + Age Gap + Smut + Possessive Religious Man!

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. Thank you for the amazing notes and reblogs from previous chapter. It really means a lot. I want to thank you guys with chapter two so I hope y’all enjoyed this! :3

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑. Any nasty comments will be deleted and blocked! If you are a minor do not interact with this post at all.

1

“They tested God in their heart by demanding the food they craved.” –Psalm 78:18

“Honey, I'm home!” Sam yells out.

The sound of the garage door opening awakens him from his depressing dilemma.

His brows wrinkle in confusion. He moans distastefully. He forgot his wife had went out and came back with groceries. Aaron stood up— groaning, regretting a knot on his back for staying in a slumped position, fixing his attire to look presentable.

Ten years.

They’ve been married for ten years. Marriage has gotten boring for him. The fire he once had for her has slowly been dying out the moment he laid eyes on y/n. Sam was nothing compared to her. His wife is too controlling. She was docile. His wife talks as if she croaks. She sounds as sweet as honey. Aaron can go on and on for hours how Sam was nothing like Y/N. Nothing like the sort of girl he wanted—no, needed.

He is greeted with his wife frantically putting things away. She doesn't notice his presence.

Aaron clears his throat and she then turns to face him. “Oh, Hi—Aaron, would you mind helping me with groceries? I have to prepare food for Michael's football night.”

Ah.

He had forgotten that tonight was the night he’d see his best friend and you. He goes ahead to help Sam, trying to get rid of his thoughts and ignoring how his cock hardens thinking about you. Michael and him have been friends for a long time when he moved into the neighborhood and their bond has been unbreakable. Church every Sunday, occasional football nights, and helping each other out with anything they need from each other. It was safe to say they had formed a brotherhood with one another.

Y/n was introduced to Aaron after a year she had come back from college. The very first time he met her, he was in awe of her beauty. Oh, so in awe. He was in love with her innocence, how she was so soft, so shy with everyone. He leans over the counter watching his wife washing dishes and a look of disgust comes onto his face. He doesn’t know how he can think like this or how he can get rid of such thoughts. God is punishing me for not being a good husband, he thinks.

“Should i make a rotel dip tonight?”, Sam asks. he doesn't catch what she says, given how much he’s thinking about y/n. He couldn't really care less about the fucking dip. All he wanted was to be in her presence and just to hear her honey-like voice again.

“Huh? Repeat that again?”

His wife turns to face him in annoyance and repeats, “Should I make rotel dip for the game night?”

He shrugs his shoulders in agreement. He barely gives a fuck about what she does. “Sure, it’s perfect for game night. We already have the chips for it.” and with that, he gives her a smile— satisfied with his answer, she goes ahead and starts preparing.

His face falls in exhaustion, dealing with a wife like her. He can’t wait to go over to y/n's house and take his mind off of Sam.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” The sound of laughter and men surrounding each other filled up the living room as their favorite team scored another point.

Aaron was grinning from ear to ear enjoying his time with his friends, however, in the back of his mind— he wanted to know where you were at. You were nowhere to be found and he felt anxious before his inner thoughts were interrupted by the very sound of your laughter, immediately threatening to make him hard.

His sweet girl.

You just arrived home with a friend. He looks unfamiliar. Aaron feels a pang of jealousy go through his heart. That young man had a decent look going on for him but Aaron knows in his heart that God blessed him with looks as well— enough for the church members to throw themselves at him—as well, yes. He knew.

The sounds around him were deafening, clenching his beer as he drank, eyeing you carefully so nobody catches him in his odd perversion. His eyes pan to his wife chatting with other people, looking at her lips and all he can think about is the croaking sounds he hopes she’d make. Crudely snickering, he excuses himself to the kitchen to get another beer.

He crouches down to open the cooler, halfway through, you walk into the kitchen. He immediately recognizes the perfume you always use. It's enough to catch his attention. He turned his head— and only his head— to see you leaning back on the wall looking at your friend with a bored look evident on your face. Aaron understands. He would rather go somewhere fun too. Somewhere forbidden. Grabbing his beer, he pops the cap open to drink, and does so quite noticeably. Your eyes fall on Aaron. You brighten up, pushing yourself from the wall and throw your arms around him for a hug.

“Mr. Johnson!”

He's taken aback by the hug. Surprised, even. His body almost jerks from the impact but he's able to relax himself. He knows he can sense his heart beating fast anxiously. He lets go (almost reluctantly), and puts a hand on your shoulders to look at you. He doesn’t want you to feel his heartbeat, thumping and getting faster as if threatening to jump out. “Y/N! Why are you guys sulking and pouting by yourself?” You jut your lips out to a pout and your friend rolls his eyes at your dramatic behavior. “it’s reallllly boring.” Aaron chuckles in response at how you dragged the word ‘really’.

“Er- are you going to introduce me to your friend or they’re better off as being mysterious?”, He teases. He loves making you laugh to make things less awkward. The mysterious guy in question looks around, sheepishly embarrassed that he is noticed by the older man.

“Oh! Mr. Johnson, this is my best friend, Fabien, and Fabien— this is my dad’s best friend, Mr. Johnson!". Both of the men shake hands. Fabien shakes Aaron's hand politely but furrows his brows, nervous that the older man returns a tighter, firm one instead.

“Nice to meet you, son. it’s not everyday I meet y/n’s friends", Aaron says, enjoying seeing the nervous look on that man’s face. That's right. He should be nervous. He’s been watching her for so long— she rarely brings friends over. This was both a foreign feeling and a motivating one. He had felt jealousy before, when knowing he couldn't have her— but motivation to have her? It was new. It was exhilarating. God would forgive him for stalking but he’d like to assure himself now that he was doing it out of good intentions.

“Y-Yeah, we were studying at the library and she invited me for free food. Can't say no to that!” He stammers, voice cracking. You roll your eyes, embarrassed.

“Well, welcome to the Y/L/N house. Make yourself at home and help yourself with the food. My wife makes good chips and dip.”

Aaron doesn't notice the mention of his wife’s name made your smile fall. He pats the young man on the back and kisses you on the forehead. Your spine tingles— shamefully. “I’ll let you kiddos go. I'm going to excuse myself to the restroom," He lies behind a smile.

Once excusing himself, he looks around to make sure nobody isn’t following behind him before heading upstairs. He checks the hallways to make sure no guests were wandering about, a bit nervous.

You see, Aaron lied.

He wasn’t really planning on using the bathroom. What he really wanted to do was go to your bedroom. He discretely turns the bathroom lights on and locks the door to make it seem it was occupied. A smart man— when desperate, it seemed. He knows what her door looks like, as how he always made sure to walk past it every time he visited. He stood in front of the door that was covered with a plethora of stickers and smiles rather fondly. Stroking the stickers, he admires Y/N's admiration for the softer, feminine things. He once again looks around before entering the room, steps heavy yet his heart pumping with shameless excitement.

Aaron is welcomed by the soft pink color theme of the room, posters upon posters on the wall of bands and pictures of her family. He allows himself to take a whiff of the sweet smell of lavender and vanilla spice that fills the air, each recognizable aroma reminding him of Y/N. He knows his cock shamelessly hardens. This is the first time he had stepped a foot in her room, but perhaps the hundredth time he's thought about it. It's much more different than when he watches her get undressed from his office. He gently strokes Y/N's pink filly sheets and her white teddy bear that he had always seen her dance with in her room. He shook his head, trying to get his plan into action. He wants her panties and he will politely borrow them for his own pleasure. Aaron is sure you won't even notice them go missing.

He pulls each drawer down to find the panties he’s been craving for and after what seems to be a while, he finds his favorite pair. The same ones he had only gotten a glance of earlier that day back in the shrouded shadows of his office. He takes a whiff, moaning to himself almost painfully. it— no, she has that lovely smell that he had always imagined. Always desired, craved. He couldn’t help himself but took a pair— or two. You wouldn’t notice. You love buying clothes. He buries y/n in his back pocket and pats on it, happy that he got his own gift. He was almost like a mesmerized child, his mind of delusions acting as his toy.

He carefully places everything back to the way it was and tidies everything to make it seem nobody else was in her room. Untouched and pure— like Y/N. He heads out of her room, making sure not to forget about the bathroom then makes his way back down. He resumes his unsuspected position back into the party, laughing with his wife and enjoying company— a devilish smile growing as something further down grows as well. Nobody in this room suspects that he has Michael's dear daughter's underwear in his pocket and oh— doesn't it feel so wrong yet so good?

If he can’t have her, he will have a part of her for himself to keep.

Aaron’s mouth curls into a familiar devilish grin. He slides his hands down to his wife’s lower back, stroking her spine, and leans closer to his wife’s ear, “Let’s go home.” his voice makes Sam visibly shudder. Her face flushes, agreeing that it is almost late and they must go home.

The ride home was silent yet loud with sexual tension. No words were spoken.

Neither of them makes the first move.

Aaron follows Sam to the kitchen and eyes her body up and down. He leans his body over the counter and sees her squeezing her thighs to hide her arousal, trying to act normal while she cleans the dishes. His nose crinkles with disgust. He needs to get this over with— he certainly isn’t attracted to her but he still has to do his husbandly duties.

He can sense her anxiety spiraling into her body. Aaron makes his way to her and wraps his arms around her waist, nuzzling against Sam's neck.

“I-I have to clean the dishes,” She stammers, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“And? We can do it here just fine," He replies bluntly. He places a soft lick to her neck, and the blonde parts her lips to let out a soft moan, tilting her head back in pleasure. It's her sensitive spot and he knows. He slides the hems of Sam's nightgown downwards, stroking her hips before pulling her panties down to her knees in a swift motion.

Sam spins around to face him and her hands travel to Aaron's buttons, attempting to unbutton them but Aaron's grabs hold on her hands to stop her.

“Don’t," He interjects, eyes locked onto hers.

"Turn."

Aaron knew it wasn’t really about her. He just wanted it quick and done. He pivots her body, facing her towards the kitchen island. There's hunger overtaking his mind. He knows he isn’t hard because of his wife. He's hard because of you. Your panties are still hidden in his back pocket. He knows this might be the only way he can be this close to you. The brunet roughly bends Sam over the kitchen island, tracing her lips and parting it, quickly feeling her getting slick onto his fingers. It was overwhelming for her, he knew, his fingers are a gift from God. She grips the edge of the island to keep her knees from buckling. Despite hating her, Aaron loves that he had that effect on women, even ones as bothersome as Sam. A simple rub or touch would make them fall into the palm of his hands and he thinks about this as he slowly opens her up with his finger and feels slick coating him more and more before opening her with a second finger.

His breathing starts to get unstable when he realizes It's time to actually fuck her. His mind shifts to the panties as motivation— and there. In front of him isn’t his wife but you. God, he imagines— knows you would look so pretty under him. He runs his hands down the back of the dress to let it fall and leans over to kiss Sam's back but instead imagining it's yours he's kissing. He unbuckles his pants along with his boxers and lines his hardened cock up, sliding in so slowly that it has him groaning at just the tightness alone.

He can't help but close his eyes and vividly imagine you under him, whimpering at his touch and how tight, how warm you would feel around him. The feeling is practically unbearable and the desperation to fuck you both nice and deep turns insatiable. He wants to be your first everything. He wants to be the first to take your innocence. To handle your purity like how God handles his. "You" were so desperate and "your" moans and cries falling from “your lips” were everything he dreamt about.

“F-Fuck Aaron! Give me more!”

He refuses to listen to his wife and his motions— slow and steady yet his imagination is unmoved. His thrusts continue to be rhythmic, his hands making his way to his back pocket to take Y/N's panties out for a sudden sniff.

The smell was intoxicating. It was everything. His thrusts were in control. He knows his wife is growing impatient and desperate with how he loves to fuck her painfully slow but she doesn’t know he want to savor the taste of his little sunshine’s panties. Beneath him, begging him to fuck her—you— harder. Aaron growls, saying that she is ruining the experience for him. Sam is unaware that this so-called 'experience' was a euphemism for this delusional vision of you under him. She tries to change positions but his hands tangle themselves into her golden locks, grabbing rough handfuls and dragging Sam back down to keep her face down on the table to avoid her seeing sniffing his little gift.

“Don’t fuckin’ move," he growls. “You feel so fucking good like this.” His praises were enough to make her overwhelmingly wet and he sighs, thanking God that she didn’t see him sniffing another woman’s panties. He changes up the pace of his thrusts, making her moan his name out loud, with Sam gripping the table to support herself because— fuck, he never fucks her like this with so much precision and passion.

He inhales the intoxicating panties yet again, already addicted and they give him the newfound power and crazed animalistic purpose to keep thrusting. He needs to see you underneath whimpering his name, wishing to hear you whimper 'Daddy'. He fucks Sam with such brutal, quickening pace and perhaps bruises her hips with the tight grip he has on her with his whitening hands. Her legs begin quivering under Aaron. He chuckles breathily, enjoying the power he has over her—over "you".

Sam is so close to her orgasm and so was Aaron. He continues to bruise her sweet spot over and over until her entire body shakes from cumming loudly onto his dick. and yet, he doesn’t stop. Aaron fucks her with an animalistic sort of pacing, thrusting into her ruthlessly, and the smell getting stronger and stronger as he rolls his eyes back—feeling himself getting near. He doesn’t want to cum inside of her— she doesn’t deserve that. He wants to reserve that cum for you. Like he said, he wants to be your first.

Oh god he’s so close, he’s so close! His thrusts begin to weaken down before he pulls out and spurts cum all over Sam's dress and the ceramic tile floor, flashes of your face running through his mind. His back hits the counter, his breathing and the sound of his heart beating loudly in his ear. The darker-haired male returns back to reality after a while and all that fills the room is their synchronized breathing and shared silence. It was good— they both knew. But Aaron was aware it wasn't Sam that made this session good.

He crumbles up your panties tightly in his hands to keep it hidden and stumbles away from his wife

who is still bend over catching her breath from the unusual— yet passionate fuck she received from her husband. Aaron’s heart pounds as he realizes the inevitable and his obsession rings loudly in his ears.

He has to fuck her. This cannot go on forever. Fucking hell— God is going to have to get used to this because he will take her.

[demcnsinmymind]

@bloodsalted sent : [ surprise ] for your muse to show up at mine’s house without explanation | nonverbal memes | Accepting!

Who would've thought that playing bait would be so.....boring.

He's been inside his old house for a few days now, keeping an eye out, kind of hoping for some of them to turn up while also not wanting them to. And it's really been a stay just filled with surprises. First : it's almost comical. How no one even seems to give much of a shit that he's here.

And sure enough, it's not like he put up a great big sign out there. Lance Preston, back in town, bitches! Not when so many people of all sorts are after him. Cultists, cops, doctors, old friends and neighbors, the whole package. Oh no. He's being extra careful. Staying away from the windows for the most part, not turning on any lights at night (who would've thought that spending a few months/years? in never ending darkness came with perks? It's almost crazy how bright the night still is out here all thanks to streetlights and moonlight and just overall light pollution). For all intents and purposes, his childhood home still looks more or less abandoned from the outside. Intact, but devoid of people.

But still. One would think that the neighbors would continue to be all over it. Oh so nosy as ever. Keeping an eye on it. Might notice that someone's back in the old house. The one that belonged to the sweet old lady with alzheimers, who's now somewhere else in full-time care. The one who lost her husband to cancer, followed by the ever so sudden and mysterious disappearance of her only son not long after.

So far though? Nothing. Just him, all alone in here. Unbothered. In silence. Going through some of the stuff that's been left behind. Because the house is still in limbo. Just like him. And his mom. Because with them not quite dead , it technically still belongs to the Preston family. Can't be sold to the a new family. And it really continues to be almost surreal. How all of it's still there. After all these years. His old old stuff. High school yearbooks. Photos. Books. Music. Movies. Almost...comforting. Like a pillow fort made of brick and mortar. A shell wrapped up nice and tightly all around him. Almost makes him forget why he's really here. Not for comfort. But for closure. Betting on the fact that people are on the lookout for him. Eager to finish things just like him.

Huh. Bang on the dot. Isn't it eerie.

Black car. Old. Vintage. One you don't see every day anymore. One you don't hear every day. Certainly not in this neighborhood. Having driven past his little cocoon of a house now. Twice. Yes. He's being extra careful. So he catches on to the sound. The irregular regularity of it. And he knows something's up with that. Turning off the TV and ducking out of the room and into the hall, Lance tries to get a good view of what's happening outside. And yep. There it is. Black Chevrolet. A figure inside. Off center. With enough distance. Discretely parked and almost out of sight, away from prying eyes. But it's there. Again. How the..Who the fuck?

He doubts these cultist weirdos would just drive up to his house. Not these guys at least. Cops? Doubts that they drive a car like that either. Whoever it is, this is out of the ordinary. This is shady. This is dangerous. Yet for some weird fucking reason, probably because his entire stay has been so anticlimactically boring and weird so far...Lance suddenly pulls the front door open. Walks outside. Crosses the street. Walks over to the car....And knocks on the window.

"Hey. This is my wife's spot. She'll be home with the kids soon. Go park somewhere else."

Dumb speech and most certainly a lie, but he figures that this'll make things harder for this guy. Out in the open, where everyone can hear them, see them. And if it's just some dude, he'll be able to tell by his reaction, too.

[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

Nightingale Chapter Six - Welcome to the Neighborhood

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Six: Welcome to the Neighborhood

Word Count: 5394

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing!

Masterlist

Nightingale Masterlist

It had been three days since Jensen sent you on that shopping trip and he hadn’t seen you since. Not in person, anyway. There was evidence that you were still in the apartment, dishes he used for breakfast were always put away clean by the time he got home at night. He heard your shower running one morning and he noticed the laundry was still being done. Life on set kept him busy, but he was still able to text back and forth with you. You always responded. Your answers were pleasant, but brief.

He was certain something was wrong, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. He had his suspicions that something had happened on the day you went to the department store. His bank sent him a text alert when the final charge went through, and it was far less than he expected it to be. Clif told him you’d been fine on the ride home, maybe a little tired. It didn’t make any sense and it was driving him crazy. Which meant he was driving everyone else crazy, especially Jared.

“Something is wrong.”

Jared didn’t look up from his phone, he’d heard the same thing from his co-star for days. “We’ve got a few minutes, why don’t you give her a call?”

“Nah, I want to talk in person. Its just our schedules don’t seem to match up.”

“She’s recovering from a concussion,” Jared pointed out. “She doesn’t have a schedule.”

“She’s got a sleep schedule. You know how hard it is with us, we work all kind of weird hours.” Jensen picked at the edges of his paper coffee cup, a nervous habit. “I never paid it much attention before, you know Dee was never around for filming. I’m sure its nothing, it just feels like she’s avoiding me.”

The mention of the ex-wife broke through Jared’s annoyance. Jensen looked like a dejected puppy and Jared had a soft spot for puppies. “Look, I’ve got a later call time tomorrow. Why don’t we switch some things around, I’ll shoot my stuff first?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m probably making a bigger deal out of it than it is. It just feels weird because we spent so much time together before work started back up.”

Jared’s eyes narrowed in speculation as a sudden thought struck, “You’re avoiding her.”

Jensen scoffed and tossed his cup in the garbage, “What did I just say?”

“Nuh huh, I don’t buy it. You are direct to a fault, if you wanted to talk to her, you would. You’re waiting for her to come to you, why?”

“Because I don’t want to push,” Jensen finally admitted. “Obviously, I’ve done something or misread things. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Talking is not going to make it worse. And if you did do something to piss her off, apologize.” Jared waggled his eyebrows, “Turn on that Winchester charm, I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jensen deadpanned.

“We’re switching call times,” Jared retorted. “I can’t take another day of unrequited drama.”

He was in the kitchen when you waltzed in at 7:30 with a duffle bag over your shoulder. The buds were blasting in your ears, so you didn’t hear him say good morning to you three times. When you finally glanced up and saw a figure holding a cup of coffee you let out a scream so loud, they probably heard it in the lobby.

Jensen immediately set down the cup and held up a hand in surrender, “Whoa, easy… hey, it’s just me!”

You rubbed a hand over your racing heart, “Christ on a cracker!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized, while silently chiding himself.

You laughed, knowing you must have looked ridiculous. “No, it’s okay. I thought you were already at work.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a later call time today, so I can have a lazy morning.” He said, taking up his coffee again. “Which means I’ve got time to make a real breakfast, pancakes and everything. You game?”

He gave you a dazzling smile and you nearly melted. No one had a right to look that good first thing in the morning. Perhaps it was not seeing him for days that made it so much more apparent. Already showered and shaved, but still in his track pants and t-shirt. He looked much like he did during the week he spent taking care of you. Suddenly, all you wanted to do was curl up with him on the couch. Spend the day wrapped up in his arms, warm and safe from the uncertainties that kept you up at night.

My GOD he smells good! I wonder if he’s as good at kissing in real life as he is on t.v.? He must be, look at his mouth… and his hands.

“Oh no. No thank you, I’ve got a class at the club.”

“Oh,” he tried to keep the disappointment from his voice. “The health club downstairs?”

You looked down at your running suit that encased your body in navy blue and pink lycra. “Yeah, I’ve been itching to go to the gym. I think I used to quite a bit before the accident. My body’s been missing it.”

Judging by the way that suit hugged your curves, Jensen doubted your body was missing anything. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Actually, I’m taking one of the classes for seniors. I talked with one of the physical therapists down there and he helped me find something low impact.” You laughed a little, “I’m the youngest person by like forty years. Mrs. Hudson keeps trying to set me up with her grandson.”

“Mrs. Hudson?”

“She lives on the fifth floor, has a toy poodle named Mitzi and she is a huge Supernatural fan. Like, obsessed.”

“You don’t say,” he smiled a bit. “She want an autograph?”

“Yeah, but not yours.” You grinned, “Misha’s.”

He rolled his eyes, “Typical.”

“She also offered me a hundred bucks for a sneak peak at the plot for this season. I told her I’d think about it.”

“If she goes up to two hundred let me know, we can split it and go somewhere nice.”

You both laughed softly then fell into an awkward silence.

“Y/N, is everything okay?”

Your reply was quick. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“I know with my schedule and everything, we haven’t had much time to talk. It just seems like there’s something bothering you.”

When you finally looked up with your big, blue eyes, he knew he was right. He saw the uncertainty in your gaze, and it worried him. There was something you weren’t saying. What could he have done to lose your trust?

“Sweetheart, tell me. Is it me? Did I do something or say something to upset you?”

“No, no.” You sighed. The last thing you wanted was to worry him or anyone else. But Jensen was a persistent man, once he caught wind of something, he wouldn’t just let it go. It never occurred to you that he’d blame himself.

“Did something happen on that shopping trip? Did they not have what you needed?”

“No! They were all great, really. Thank you again, it was lovely.”

He gave a slight shake of his head, there was that slightly cool politeness. Rigid and formal. Not like you at all. “I kinda expected you to spend a little more, I mean… are you sure it was okay?”

“I got all the essentials, Jay. I didn’t need anything extravagant.”

“It was supposed to be fun; you know. A treat. Extravagant is part of the package.”

You didn’t reply to that. You knew he would only feel badly if you told him how that trip made you feel dirty. That you were worried that your presence in his life was being misinterpreted by pretty much everyone. That you were worried that deep down, that you were just not worthy of someone like him. Not as you are. Broken.

Jensen knew he couldn’t force you to confide in him. It wasn’t fair to push you just to satisfy his own doubts. “I don’t want you to be late to your class so, maybe I’ll see you later, okay?”

He was letting you off the hook. Giving you a chance to make a hasty escape. If you had a brain in your head, you’d take it. But you couldn’t just ignore the poorly masked hurt in his eyes. Somehow, he got it into his head that this was his fault, and you couldn’t just let him sit with that.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Jay. You’ve been amazing. I just feel like I should be doing something. I want to contribute.”

“All you need to focus on is recovering. Don’t worry about the money thing, I know people get a little weird about it, but it’s not a big deal.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You crossed your arms over your stomach as you leaned against the counter. “I feel this pull to be active, to help people. I don’t know what I used to do for a living or even what I’m good at. I just know I have to try. There must be something I can do to be useful in the world.”

“Y/N, you’ve got a heart the size of Texas. I’m not surprised that you want to help people. And you should follow that feeling, but you gotta walk before you run.”

You gave a small smile, “Why do you think I’m in geriatric aerobics? I still get tired and my stamina is crap. I’m trying to build up my strength. Maybe I’ll stumble upon a forgotten talent.”

“I’m sure you will.” Jensen studied you for a moment, there was still a bit of tension in your posture. Your beautiful eyes were still a little guarded. He was certain there was more to it but decided to drop it for now.

“You should get going, don’t want to be late for class.”

“Yeah,” you picked up the forgotten gym bag and headed for the door. “Hey, um… do you think you’ll have a late night tonight?”

“Actually, I’ve got a light schedule. I’ll probably get out of there at a decent time.”

“Well, maybe we could have supper,” you suggested, chewing on your lower lip. “I saw a Tupperware in the back of the freezer that said Five Alarm.”

Jensen let out low whistle, “Oh, I don’t know Y/N. That’s Grandma Ackles award winning, Five Alarm Chili, it would burn the pants off a little lady like you.”

You scoffed, “If you can take it, I can take it.”

“I’m a Texan. I was born breaking horses and breathing fire.” He laid it on thick, exaggerating his accent. When he added a wink, you turned red.

“Shut up,” you laughed, shaking your head. The man was too cute, and he knew it.

“Alright, alright. I’ll start the crockpot and get the Pepto on standby.”

There was such softness in his green gaze as it flickered over your face. This wasn’t the first time a moment like this stretched out between the two of you. He said so much with those eyes of his, you swore you could feel the caress of them on your soul. Yet, he held back, closing his hands into loose fists at his sides. The warmth in his eyes turned uncertain and in that moment all you wanted to do was reassure him.

Your doubts quieted just long enough for your instincts called the shots. You stepped forward and wrapped him in a tight hug.

Jensen immediately reciprocated, his strong arms coming around you, holding you close. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. This felt right. You felt right. Every time he had you in his arms, he felt something settle in his heart. You felt like home, it was that simple.

“You should get going,” he breathed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t want to worry Mrs. Hudson.”

You felt tingly. Warm and fuzzy, all the way down to the soles of your shoes. No wonder Dean Winchester was so popular, the man portraying him was everything a woman could possibly want. Kind, strong, handsome, and funny. Hard working and generous. You had a long way to go if you were going to be worthy of a man like that. Better get started.

“Yeah, you’re right. See you for dinner?”

“It’s a date.”

You were still floating when you stepped into the elevator. You were no closer to answering the million questions you had about yourself, but you felt more centered. More sure of yourself and your path forward. Jensen always managed to help ground you and settle the doubts buzzing in your brain. That was just part of his magic.

The elevator paused after just a couple of floors, stopping to pick up another passenger. The doors slid open to reveal a small child. A little boy with shiny, black hair and a Buzz Lightyear doll clutched in his arms.

“Hey there,” you smiled, looking around for the adult who must be close by. “Are you lost?”

He didn’t say anything, but his big, brown eyes welled with tears as he hugged his doll even tighter.

You stepped out of the elevator and crouched down to his level. Poor little guy’s terrified.

“Is your mom around? Or your dad?” Getting no answer and seeing no worried parent around you tried another approach. “Do you live on this floor?”

This time he shrugged.

“A lot of these hallways look alike, huh? I get a little lost myself… say, do you know that big, fancy fountain downstairs? The one with the lights and the fish?”

His brown eyes grew wide, and he nodded. Jackpot, kids love those koi fish.

“Well, there is a really nice lady at the desk right by that fountain. She knows everyone in this building and knows where we all live. I bet if we ask her really nice, she will help us out.” You stood and held your hand out to him, “What do you say?”

Keeping Buzz in one arm, he grabbed your hand tightly and rode down to the lobby by your side.

His name was Christopher, and his frantic mother was already at the reception desk. The squirming toddler on her hip squealed and reached out when she saw you walking towards them.

“Mama!” Christopher tugged out of your hand and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him across the lobby.

“Christopher!” The mother dropped to her knees, scooping him up along with his sister. From the muffled, relieved scolding, you pieced together that he’d been playing hide and seek with his sibling and got a little too creative.

“You scared me to death!”

“I’m sorry Mama,” he cried into her shoulder.

You picked up the discarded doll and gave the frazzled mother a smile, “There’s no harm done. We just took a little elevator ride. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Maddy,” she replied. She allowed her children to slide to the floor but kept a hold of their hands. “Thank you so much… I swear these two will be the death of me!”

You looked a little more closely at the pair, they were like a matched set. Same height, same facial features, eye color, hair. One boy and one girl. “Twins?”

“Christopher and Casey. When they turned four, they figured out how to bypass the Netflix password and open any locked door. I think they’re bent on world domination.”

You laughed and noticed the tiny paint splatters in Maddy’s clothes and across her face. She wore old overalls with ripped knees, rolled up at the ankle and a faded bandana keeping her hair up. Her bare feet were paint splattered too, she obviously just ran out of her apartment in a hurry.

Middle of a project. Hyper, bored kids. Single mom?

“Would you like some help?”

Turns out you were right. Madison “Maddy” Montgomery was a single mother of five-year-old twins. Christopher and Casey. Her ex, Jake, was a military man who valued his career more than his wife and kids. He still kept in touch, but really had no interest in raising a family. A year ago, she moved to Vancouver to be closer to her sister and have a fresh start.

“So, what happened to your face? You owe money to the mob?”

“Boating accident,” you replied, loading your roller with paint. “I zigged when I should have zagged.”

Maddy rolled out a heavy drop cloth over the hardwood floors of her dining room. “Rookie mistake. So, what do you do when you’re not wrangling wayward toddlers?”

“Well, today I do this.”

“No kids of your own, huh? What do you do for a living?”

“Ah, well, I’m not really sure.”

“Identity crisis?” Maddy guessed.

You kept your attention on applying paint evenly. Part of you wanted to just gloss over the details of your life, keep the conversation light. After all, it was a pretty strange set of circumstances. Instead, you decided to take a leap of faith and be honest.

“Sort of. Amnesia.”

Maddy paused mid-way through taping off the woodwork. “Whoa, seriously?”

Before you knew it, the whole story came tumbling out. It was such a relief to share it with someone. The aerobics group only knew cursory details about your injuries and physical limitations. Jensen and Jared knew and were great, of course. But this was the first time you actually told someone about it. A perfect stranger, until an hour ago.

“Wow. Y/N, that’s… that’s intense. So, you have no idea who you are. Where you’re from, you’re family. Nothing?”

“No. Not really, just my first name and a couple of random memories.”

“That’s…. wow. That must be terrifying.”

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “Mostly, its frustrating. Thank God for Jensen, he helps keep me from spiraling out of control.”

A look of wide-eyed recognition crossed Maddy’s face. “Wait, Jensen Ackles? Your dashing hero is the super hottie in the penthouse?”

You stole a look over shoulder, “Yes?”

Maddy laughed then, “Girl!”

“Do you know him?” you asked casually.

“Not like you do, obviously,” Maddy teased. “I’ve met him in passing a couple of times, he helped me carry in groceries. Super sweet guy and gorgeous. My sister watches that show of his religiously.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten into it recently myself.”

“You don’t say?”

“Shut up,” you grinned, unable to stop yourself.

“I heard he was back on the market, finally got rid of that ball and chain.”

“He was married?”

“You weren’t kidding about that amnesia, huh?” Maddy took a slender paint brush and started on the edging work. “I only ran into her the once. One of those tight faced, model types, you know. Kinda bitchy, dismissive. I was relived to hear he divorced, a guy like that deserves better.”

Your mind was ticking away. Jensen had never mentioned a wife. Ex or otherwise. With your concussion, you steered clear of computers. Plus, something about looking up information about your friend on the internet seemed sleezy. Mean. Deceitful, even. And Jensen was that, he was your friend. No matter where things went with him, first and most importantly, he was your friend.

“Yeah, he deserves better.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon with Maddy and the kids. By the end of the day the dining room had received two coats of paint and the kids were successfully fed and down for a nap. Casey fussed a bit, but eventually settled. Maddy said both kids had been down with the flu a couple of weeks ago, but Casey hadn’t been able to shake it completely yet.

“It’s par for the parenting course,” the young mother explained. “The doctor says its because of her allergies. Always worse this time of year. Her father was the same way.”

“Poor kiddo,” you murmured. Something tickled at the back of your mind. You couldn’t quite shake it nor bring it to the surface. God, was that ever frustrating! Your only choice was to leave it be until it decided to let you remember it. Pushing yourself would only bring on a migraine.

You exchanged numbers with Maddy as she saw you to the door and promised to help her tackle the kitchen when the time came. That 70’s style linoleum had to go!

You were happier, lighter as you headed back to the apartment. You felt more normal than you had since waking up in the hospital. Today’s activities hadn’t been what you expected, but they were exactly what you needed. You could feel tentative hope blooming that perhaps you weren’t broken after all. There was a part of you that survived the accident after all. You still had the ability to make friends.

A part of you worried that although he said otherwise, Jensen was only interested in spending time with you because he felt guilty. But the afternoon with Maddy and her kids bolstered your confidence and worked to quiet those doubts.

There was a spring in your step by the time you got home. The smell of Grandma Ackles chili had your mouth watering the minute you opened the door. No wonder it was award winning. Your phone buzzed with a text from Jensen saying he’d be home in an hour. That left you just enough time to shower and change out of your rumpled clothes before dinner.

“Looks like someone’s in a good mood,” Jensen said, shrugging out of his leather jacket and tossing it on a one of the bar stools.

There was music flowing from the sound system and the kitchen table was set for two. You were wearing an outfit he had never seen before. A simple, soft sweater in light blue and a dark, denim skirt that hit mid-thigh. Those incredible legs of yours were encased in thermal tights that several of the ladies on set favored. You turned to him with a smile, your long hair was unbound and swung freely around your shoulders as you moved.

“I am in a good mood, had a good day.”

“Yeah?” he asked, as you handed him a beer.

You opened a bottle of water for yourself, “Yeah. It was a great day.”

And so the evening went. Lovely, normal, warm, homey. The two of you exchanged stories of how you spent your days. Jensen was thrilled to hear you’d made a new friend. He could see the difference in your posture, you were hopeful. And your laugh was back.

Sitting there with you, having dinner at the end of the day, fulfilled a fantasy that he’d kept buried deep down. It was so simple; most people took it for granted. It was the feeling of family. He was close to his family growing up, and still was in a lot of ways. But he wanted one of his own. A best friend to go through life with, a partner. Danneel was supposed to be that for him. It looked like it on the surface, but it never felt like it. Never felt like this.

Y/N listened intently as he told her mundane details of his day on set. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as it could be. No fight scenes, no big speeches. Pretty boring from his perspective. His ex-wife certainly would have thought so, but not you. You were fascinated. Maybe it was because you didn’t come from a Hollywood background like Danneel did. You thought it was the most magical thing you’d ever heard. It reminded Jensen of his first trip to a television set. He thought it was magical too. He’d forgotten that until now, and it felt good to be reminded of it. To be reminded of why he fell in love with the film industry to begin with.

The two of you had loaded the dishwasher and moved to the living room to unwind when the doorbell rang, followed by frantic knocking.

Jensen got to his feet and signaled for you to stay put when you went to follow him. It was late and no one ever came to the door without at least texting first. There was a flash of Dean in him at that moment, protective.

He looked through the peephole, then unlocked and opened the door. “Can I help you?”

From your place on the couch, you could hear familiar voices and you were quickly at his side, “Maddy? What’s wrong?”

Your new friend was frantic. Christopher was beside her, hiding behind her legs, while his sister wailed in her mother’s arms. “Y/N, hey I’m sorry to bother you. It’s Casey, her fever spiked, and I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Do you need to go to the E.R.? We’ll give you a ride,” Jensen offered, concern written all over his face.

“No, my sister is on her way. I’m know its short notice, but would you watch Chrissy?” Maddy asked, shifting Casey on her hip. “I have no idea how long this is going to take; I could be there all night and that’s torture on a five-year-old.”

“Yeah, of course,” you were already grabbing your shoes to head up to Maddy’s apartment.

“He can stay with us,” Jensen said without hesitation. “We’ve got it covered, no problem.”

The relief on Maddy’s face was instantaneous. “Really?! Oh, God, thank you so much! I owe you.”

“You don’t owe us anything,” you assured her and held out a hand to Christopher who threw himself into your arms. “Keep us posted, okay?”

“I will, thank you again!”

Jensen closed the door as Maddy disappeared down the hall and you stood with the toddler clinging to you.

“So…. Nintendo?” he suggested.

If you weren’t already completely charmed by Jensen Ackles before, you certainly were now. The man loved kids and it was adorable. He quickly won over the little boy with chocolate milk and his collection of remote-control cars. You had a suspicion that they weren’t meant for rough play, but Jensen didn’t seem to care. In fact, he was having a ball! He set up the living room and foyer as an elaborate racetrack and the three of you stood on the couch in your stocking feet while cars zipped around the floor. The floor, which was lava, of course.

After an hour or so, they moved on to the world of video games, which was housed in Jensen’s bedroom. You let the two of them hash it out, since your head was beginning to ache. Video games had that effect on concussions, so you sat back on the bed and watched with great amusement as Christopher beat Jensen at Mario cart.

After a few minutes, the bright colors and movement made the headache bad enough that you decided to go grab a couple of pain pills. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and a sharp, stabbing pain shot through your skull.

“Oh!” Your hand went to your temple, then it was gone. As suddenly as it had started, the pain left and in its place was a memory. The thought that had been tugging at you all afternoon finally broke through.

You didn’t notice Jensen was by your side until he touched your shoulder. “Y/N? You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed as you processed the new information that had just shaken loose. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just remembered something. I’ll be right back.”

You pulled your phone from your pocket and went out into the hallway, leaving Jensen to keep an eye on your houseguest.

“Y/N?” Maddy answered, her voice slightly muffled by background noise from the hospital. “Is everything okay? Is Christopher alright?”

“He’s fine, I just thought of something. Have you seen the doctor yet?”

“They just took us back to one of the exam rooms now. This place is packed!”

“Okay listen, I noticed something about Casey earlier today, but it didn’t click with me until now. There is a dark ring around the iris of her eye, it’s called a Kayser-Fleischer ring. It’s caused by a buildup of copper deposits.”

Maddy was looking her child over on the other end of the line, after a moment she responded. “Yeah. Yeah, I see it.”

“Tell the doctor to check for Wilson’s disease. It’s a liver disorder. It’s rare, but treatable.”

“Wilson’s disease, got it. How are you so sure about this?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, wishing you’d gotten more than just a flash of a magazine article to go on. “I don’t know. Call it instinct.”

Jensen looked up when you slipped back into the bedroom, “Everything alright?”

You returned to your spot on the bed and Christopher came up to cuddle beside you. You ran your hand over his hair in soothing gesture as your turned over the new information in your mind. You were relived and excited that something useful had broken through. Hopefully, it would help. You remembered that article word for word, if caught early on and monitored closely, people could live quite easily with it. Your gut said that would be the case for Casey.

“I was just checking in with Maddy. They’re fine, just waiting for the doctor.”

He nodded and looked down at the child who was snuggled into your side. Obviously, he had chosen his place to hunker down for the night and Jensen was more than okay with sharing his space. “Good. How about we wind down with a movie?”

“Toy Story,” Christopher piped up.

“Excellent choice,” you agreed.

A couple of hours later, the credits were rolling and the three of you were cuddled together in the center of the massive, king-sized bed. The kid conked out early on and you followed not long after. Jensen didn’t realize he had nodded off himself until the sound of your phone vibrating against the side table jolted him awake. He extracted himself from the cocoon of blankets and pillows and reached over you to grab the phone. You were a heavy sleeper and never even moved when he answered in a hushed tone.

“Maddy?”

“Jensen, hi. Sorry, I know its late.”

“No, it’s okay. Y/N and Chrissy are asleep, but I’m up. How’s Casey?”

“Better,” the young mother breathed, relief clear in her voice. “We’re on our way home now. Y/N was right. I still have to bring Casey back for tests in a few days just to be sure but, Y/N was on the money. The doctor didn’t even want to check, thought I was out of my mind. Thank god she saw it, I never even noticed!”

“Yeah,” Jensen murmured, looking down at your peaceful face. “Thank god.”

“Seriously though, how did she know about that disease? The doctor in the E.R. wasn’t even familiar with it.”

“I don’t know… she’s full of surprises. Listen, Chrissy is pretty comfortable here and you’ve had a hell of a night. Why don’t we keep him over-night and bring him home in the morning?”

“Oh my god, are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”

“It’s no problem, he’s a great kid.”

“It’s official, you are my new favorite neighbor! Thank you, Jensen. Seriously, you’ve been great. And tell Y/N thanks, I’m so grateful I met her today!”

Jensen smiled as he hung up the phone and put it back on the charger. He settled back down into the bed and pulled the covers over the three of you. God, he’d had fun with you and the kid tonight. Until you came into his life, he was never around long enough to get to know any of his neighbors. It felt incredibly good to be a part of the community, even in this small way and he had you to thank for it. Maddy had it right. Grateful was exactly how he felt as he drifted off to sleep. Grateful he’d met you. Grateful you’d stuck around. Grateful you were curled up beside him, even with a child sandwiched in the middle.

The mystery of who you were was slowly unfolding as more fragments of your memories came through. And he was grateful to be at your side, witnessing the slow reveal of the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

[harmonyckrs]

Give Me Back My Wife, Grim Reaper - Part 4

Mother always said that hard work leads to faster success. And I think for once, it's starting to apply to me!

I'm starting to feel like Aktu. This is probably how he feels like all of the time.

Zoya: So...you're a hypnotist now, huh? Is that even a real thing?

Harper: Well, I think it'll be helpful with getting information about Aktu's whereabouts. Erin already told me something pretty useful.

Zoya: Ah, the self-proclaimed psychic. What did she say?

Harper: Lazlo and Crystal apparently met Aktu sometime before we got here, but he left for some reason. We've only been able to see the beginning and the end, however.

Zoya: Interesting. Maybe you can use your weird hypnotist abilities to get information out of Lazlo...especially about that murder.

Harper: Oh, that's a great idea! Thanks, Zoya.

Zoya: Wait, I was jo-

As I approached the observatory up on the hill and knocked on the door, I immediately came in contact with HIM. The alleged murderer of Victor Curious.

Harper: Greetings. I'm here to talk to Lazlo.

Pascal: Lazlo's off at work. You're free to wait for him until he comes back, though. Are you Harper?

Harper: (Shoot! Lazlo must've told him about me.) Yes, that'd be me. I'm just going around to talk to all of the neighbors...get acquainted with everyone and all that.

Pascal: Between you and me, it's not worth it. Everyone here is either an asshole or straight up evil.

Harper: Really? Sounds like something an asshole or someone who's straight up evil would say.

Pascal: I'm being serious, Harper. You know those two who live in that creepy house up at the hill? They're experimenting on a live person! And Olive literally has twenty one people buried under her house. Those are not people you want to talk to.

Harper: (Experimenting on a live human? I don't even think that's legal. Why hasn't anyone contacted the police?) I was messing with you. But also, what about everyone else? Like...oh, I don't know, Crystal?

Pascal: Crystal is a supervillain who's secretly planning to turn Lazlo against our family and keep him in a basement to torture him. She's the least trustworthy of them all, because at least the Beakers and Olive are open about their intentions.

Harper: Do you have any proof of that?

Pascal: No. But trust me, I'm gathering it soon. I know she's up to no good.

I was a bit wary of this man considering his outlandish lies about not one, but TWO families in this neighborhood, but I realized that this unfortunate scenario just gave me the perfect opportunity to solve this murder...and find Aktu, as well.

A juicy promotion would be waiting for me by the end of this, which is another step to saving Celeste.

Pascal: And also, sorry about the mess. Lazlo never cleans up after himself, and I've just been busy with the baby.

Harper: It's alright. You seem really stressed...maybe a bit of hypnosis will help you.

Pascal: I'm not paying for a pseudoscience.

Harper: I'll do it for free. Just for you, as thanks to your brother.

Pascal: Well, it...wouldn't hurt, I suppose. Sure.

It didn't take long to put him in a state of hypnosis as he let me inside of his house, and for me to put my plan into action.

Harper: ...Alright...now, I'm going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to answer truthfully. Tell me about what happened the night your brother got abducted.

Pascal: ...We heard him scream...and then we saw the UFO...before either of us could say anything, my water broke, and Lazlo drove me to the hospital to deliver my baby...

Harper: (Wait, if he was at the hospital, then there was no way he could've murdered Virgil.)

Harper: How long were you in the hospital for?

Pascal: Just a day. I recovered quickly, but when we came back, he...still wasn't there...he probably ran away to prevent our fates from happening...

Harper: Erin's big revelation, right? How did you feel about that?

Pascal: Well...I was horrified. Rightfully so. Vidcund was hysterical about it...begging for my forgiveness and crying about how he didn't want it to happen either...

Harper: How did you feel towards him after that?

Pascal: Complicated. I was angry, of course...at the fates, for forcing us to go through such a thing. I tried reassuring him it'd be okay, but I also didn't think I'd be able to trust him, even if it was out of his control, and I'm sure he knew too...have you seen him? Is he okay?

Harper: (I don't think it could've been him. He's too genuine...or he's a very good manipulator.) No, I haven't.

Pascal: If you do, can you tell him to come home?...we miss him. I just hope he hasn't decided to go to the Beakers...

Harper: Beakers?

Pascal: Our crazy mad scientist neighbors. He's never gotten over his break up with Circe...I've told him to move on and find other people, but he keeps insisting that one day she'll love him again...and considering Circe's fate...it would make sense for him to run to them...

Harper: I see. Thank you...and do you know anyone named Aktu?

Pascal: No. Though, I heard Lazlo say that name one time on the phone...he might know more.

Harper: Alright, thank you. I'll keep that in mind for next time...

After I had finished talking to Pascal and began to leave the house, I found an unexpected guest waiting for me.

General Buzz: Harper Terrestrial. I have a request for you.

Harper: (Oh no, this guy's scary.) Yes, um...How can I help you, sir?

General Buzz: I've heard about your quest to investigate Vidcund's murder, and I believe the two of us can help each other. I don't know if you know this, but I'm a military general who's responsible for the safety and well-being of everyone in town.

Harper: You're doing an awfully good job of that.

General Buzz: No need for sarcasm. I'm asking if you'd like to join forces with us and help us with our investigation. In return, we'll help you with Vidcund. Is this a fair trade?

Harper: Actually, let's throw one more thing in there...

[iwanttolickthatcowboy]

⚔️🎫

⚔️ - au time! pick an au of your ship that you have thoughts for and talk about it. if you can't decide, pick it randomly. I haven't thought about aus. but I have thought about like diffrent paths. one was if Barb allowed polyamory. or them hooking up in the army or college. both are possible in the main timeline but I haven't fully stamped it.

🎫 - free pass! tell a fun self-ship lore fact or just talk about anything of it that comes to mind.

james and Coop met in their first year high school theater club. coop was everyone's friend well James was the local quiet feminine boy in the small town. James always watched him from the sidelines, mildly resenting how perfect he seemed. he must have some dirt. no one is perfect.....his family taught him that. James comes from a very "man's man" family. way too many brothers. a man of the household dad and a mom who was in the background. his dad was the town deputy, which is what caused the boys to eventually talk. everyone thought James's dad was the nicest man in town when in reality, he was an abusive shmuck. everyone had just assumed James's family life was good due to this. no one ever asked what his family was or was like.....but coop, who had a bit of a naive idolization for the local police force, something that would quickly disappear that day, was the first to ask "So, what's it like having Deputy Bradley as a dad?" nothing more or less. no "I bet it's great" no "I'm sure it's fun" just.... an honest question directed AT him.....for once. this caused a 12-14-year-old James to tear up. he hated crying in front of people. they usually don't understand... "men dont cry. suck it up". plus Cooper was everyone's friend. the town's golden boy. why was he even in theater??? boys like that go into football...why would he care about his tears....but he did. coop looked so confused and concerned. he rushed him to the restroom and gave him a handkerchief. "Dad said I should give that to a girl if I ever see one cry...but that's stupid. I can't just let you cry. and you can keep it. it would be a waste not to give it to anyone who needs it, not just a way to get a wife. dads are dumb...huh..." yep. James was in love. day one. years of neighborhood resentment. vanished after finally talking. he was actually as perfect as the adults and fellow classmates made him out to be. wow.

[j-graysonlibrary]

Silverfalls Court Chapter 14

Title: Silverfalls Court

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 50K

Genres: drama, suspense, who-done-it, LGBT+

Available on: Kobo and my website

Synopsis: A young girl, lost in the bliss of her first relationship, will do anything in the pursuit of what she believes is true love—even sneaking out of her house in the dead of night. Unfortunately, she is met by someone she didn’t quite expect. Her fight or flight instincts kick in but she in no match for the killer in the woods.

And her death won’t be the only one.

The once peaceful and quaint neighborhood of Silverfalls Court is thrown into chaos and upheaval when bodies keep showing up in the woods. When it becomes apparent that the murderer must be one of them, suspicions grow thick and trust is shattered.

Some, like Lisa-Marie Castel, want to play detective and solve the case on their own while others, like Dominique Pulmer, want to keep their heads down and wait for things to return to normal. Some might even wish to capitalize on the bizarre nature of the story while those who have been personally affected are left to pick up the broken pieces of their lives amidst the chaos.

Full chapter 14 under the cut:

14. A Secret Unearthed.

Dirt was caked under his nails and smeared across his hands—up past his wrists. The bushes were uneven and looked out of place but it was what Lisa-Marie wanted. They’d bloom into beautiful roses, she said, so long as they took care of them.

It would be up to her once they were in the ground. Brandon just had to do the initial planting while she was out.

He really wished he was at the office instead. Getting his hands dirty was not ideal—especially not when it was centered around planting flowers. His mind already drifted to what he’d rather be doing as he patted the dirt around the base of the bush.

There was a case of beers chilling in the fridge with his name on it and he was also sure a football game was already well under way. Though, preferably, he’d be at a sports bar with a hefty appetizer in front of him, enjoying the game surrounded by some of his friends from work.

Hell, even the menial paperwork at his office would be more fun than planting these rose bushes, he thought.

“Hey there, Brandon,” a voice called out to him, causing him to spin around on his knees in surprise. It was just officer Redfield, however.

Brandon sighed. “What are you doing here…?”

“Oh, Lisa-Marie asked me to check up on you.” The man chuckled as he leaned against the fence. “I guess she didn’t have faith you’d actually do what she asked?”

He had drug his feet on the matter, that much was true, but his wife should have known he’d always do what she asked. Brandon frowned. “Well, I’m doing it.”

“Rose bushes, huh?” Redfield let himself through the gate. He walked closer and then set his hands on his hips as he regarded the plants with a raised brow. “Weird spot for them.”

“It was Lisa-Marie’s suggestion,” Brandon responded and stood up. He brushed his dirt caked hands against his pants only to regret it immediately. It was an instinctive motion he hadn’t meant to do.

“I guess as a start to a garden it isn’t bad.” Redfield tilted his head to the side as if he was trying to imagine it’s potential. “But it is getting rather late. You gonna pack it up?”

“Yeah. If Lisa-Marie doesn’t like it…I guess I can rip them out and try again.”

The officer laughed and slapped him on the back. “Smart man.”

“Hey,” Brandon started as he looked over at him, “Are you going to do your nightly rounds?”

Redfield took his hand off of him and grew more serious. He nodded curtly. “Yeah, it’s about time for that.”

Even though Victoria was locked in her room, Redfield still stayed around and checked in with everyone. He always ended his tour with the Burns where he’d check on Victoria and talk to her parents. There was some work he was doing with a couple of officers back at the station involving the evidence for the case but Brandon wasn’t allowed in on those details.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said and flicked off some more of the dirt that clung to his fingers. “For now, I think I’m going to go wash up.”

Redfield chuckled before leaving him, offering a small wave as a final parting.

Brandon walked inside and straight to the kitchen where he turned on the faucet with his elbow. He instantly went to work on scrubbing his hands and cursing under his breath.

All the anxiety he’d been holding in started to seep out of him and tears burned the corners of his eyes while his heart thundered against his ribcage. No amount of soap seemed enough to get the dirt from under his fingernails and, as his eyesight blurred, the color changed from a dark brown to a dark red.

He gasped and pulled away from the water to get a closer look at his hands. There was nothing there. They were clean.

Brandon shook his head—hard—and shut the water off. He slowly looked down at his pants and the dirt stains smeared across them. His heart rate picked up again and he felt he couldn’t breathe properly.

He had to change.

Brandon discarded his pants and his shirt before finding something new to change into. He threw the dirty laundry into the washroom as if it was burning him and then hurried upstairs to his closet.

After putting on some more comfortable clothes, he started to wonder what was taking Lisa-Marie so long to get back. She promised she’d be home by sundown.

He needed her. Without her, he didn’t know what to do.

When the doorbell rang, Brandon all but jumped out of his skin. He let out a quiet yelp before quickly returning to the floor level and scampering to the front door.

Maybe Lisa-Marie had forgotten her keys at home, he considered. It was unlikely but not impossible.

He peered through the peephole and caught sight of a neighbor he didn’t expect to see. Dominique Pulmer.

A spike of adrenaline rocked his body and he wasn’t sure he could answer the door. Even when the bell rang again and Dom knocked, he had a hard time making himself move.

Dom wasn’t leaving either. He knew someone was home, after all, and he’d already come this far. He couldn’t turn back—he remained firm.

“Hello?” he called out, “I know you’re here. I just want to talk!”

Finally, the door cracked open but it wasn’t Lisa-Marie on the other side like Dom expected. Instead, he was met with Brandon who looked paler than usual.

“…Brandon,” he couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice, “Is Lisa-Marie here?”

The man shook his head. “She’s out. What…what do you need?”

Dom’s brow knitted together in further confusion. “Well, okay… I was hoping to take her up on her offer from last week about taking a tour through the house. I wouldn’t mind talking to you instead though.”

Brandon blinked and pulled the door back further. He wore a mismatched outfit and his entire posture screamed of frayed nerves. “Come on in…”

Everything in Dom told him to leave now but he stepped through the threshold regardless. He kept a close eye on Brandon and noticed that his hands were trembling.

He couldn’t ignore it. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Brandon swung around to face him after shutting the door.

“You look…scared. Is everything alright?” Dom’s suspicion was slowly being joined by concern. He kept a healthy distance between them as he asked, “Do you have a problem of some kind?”

“N-no.” Brandon shook his head. “Everything is fine. I’m just…it’s been a hard few months, you know?”

Dom nodded slightly. “Speaking of that, Lisa-Marie mentioned that you saw Mrs. Winter’s body. That was why you weren’t out at the announcement and she told me that you were sick over it.”

“That’s right.” He gulped and started to fidget with his hands. “I can’t handle blood.”

“You seem like you might pass out now. You haven’t seen any blood lately, have you?”

“No,” Brandon quickly answered before looking down. “No blood…”

Dom didn’t blink or look away. The man in front of him squirmed as if a spotlight were shining on him. He could see the sheen of sweat across his forehead.

It was bold but Dom had to ask, “Is there something you want to tell me, Brandon?”

He shook his head a little too eagerly. Afterward, he continued to look down at his feet. “No. I can’t…”

With a nervous gulp, Dom gently pushed, “You can’t…what?”

Brandon’s eyes shifted from one side of the hall to the other before he broke, “I can’t do it anymore!” He took off down the hall and let out a long cry of frustration.

Dom watched him and cautiously followed. All of his muscles tensed but his mind started to distance him from the situation. He had to follow to find out more—to get to the bottom of things. He was on the cusp of important information. Even if his body knew he was in danger, he continued forward and watched from the outside looking in.

In the living room, Brandon paced back and forth while he grabbed the sides of his head. His fingers twisted in what little hair he had and he let out disgruntled sob.

“I can’t take it anymore. I can’t…”

“What can’t you take?” Dom asked, still keeping his distance.

“The lies!” Brandon shouted and stopped pacing. He looked Dom in the eyes while tears fell down his face at an impressive rate. “I can’t hide it anymore! It was an accident—people will understand!”

A chill crawled up Dom’s spine but he stood his ground. “…What was an accident, Brandon?”

“I can’t tell you!” He threw his hands up in the air.

“You have to tell someone. It’s destroying you…”

“I know,” Bandon huffed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I…I can’t keep holding it in. But it was an accident—you have to understand!”

Dom nodded. He needed to do or say whatever it took to get to the truth. “I do.”

Brandon continued to hold his gaze and slowly nodded in return. “We killed him. We didn’t mean to, Dominique. It was an accident.”

“You mean…Lamar?” he asked slowly and kept a firm control on his face. If he showed what he really felt he knew the man would clam up again.

“Yes. Lamar.” Brandon fell onto the couch and sighed. “We…damn it…”

“You and Lisa-Marie took him here after Susan was found dead,” Dom stated more than asked.

The man barely nodded. “Yes. It was supposed to just be a regular interrogation. Lisa-Marie had a room prepared and we led him to it. Once he was in the chair, she…we…cuffed him.”

Dom had a million questions but he held off. Again, he knew if he showed what he truly felt then he wouldn’t get any more information.

After Brandon gulped down another lump in his throat, he continued, “I knew it was wrong as soon as we’d done it but Lisa-Marie said it would only take an hour or so. We just had to get the truth out of him. But Lamar…he…he wasn’t saying what she wanted to hear so she kept him there. We went to bed and left him down there. She kept telling me it was fine but…I didn’t feel good about it

The next day, Lamar started begging us to let him go back home. He said he had medication to take for epilepsy…” Brandon paused to wipe the tears from his face. “We thought he was just saying things to get us to let him go, you know? He was a fit guy—he didn’t seem like he had anything like epilepsy. It…I mean…who would believe that, right?”

A sinking feeling tugged at Dom’s heart. He already knew that Lamar was dead but knowing it had happened like this was too terrible. He couldn’t hold back his thoughts any longer.

“You could have at least gone back to his house and checked for the medicine.”

Brandon’s shoulders shook and he covered his face. “I know! We should have! We shouldn’t have strapped him to the chair in the first place! I KNOW!” He moved to hold himself. “I just believed what Lisa-Marie said and did what she asked. She said he was lying so I believe her but he….he…Lamar, he….had a fucking seizure and…there was nothing we could do.”

More tears streamed down his face but Dom felt no pity for him. He’d killed a man—whether he meant to or not—and for no good reason.

It hurt so much worse that Lamar died surrounded by people who had the means to help him but chose not to.

“We tried to help him but…he just…kept seizing and didn’t stop. And then, when he did stop, he didn’t have a pulse anymore.” Brandon sniffed. “I was so scared about what would happen in the moment that I passed out. I don’t think I was out for long but, when I came to, Lisa-Marie had bought a big freezer and she suggested we stuff Lamar into it….”

“Enough,” Dom stopped him and frowned, “I don’t need to hear this.”

“Oh…right, okay…” His eyes started to dry but he still trembled. “He’s not still in the freezer though.”

Despite really not wanting to hear the gruesome details of what happened to Lamar’s corpse, Dom couldn’t help but ask, “What’d you do with him?”

“When Lisa-Marie called the neighborhood meeting, I buried him out back. She wanted to make sure no one saw…”

A new thought occurred to him once Brandon spoke. Dom’s jaw fell open. “Did she kill Mrs. Winter to give herself that opening?”

“No!” Brandon instantly defended, “She didn’t do anything like that! She couldn’t!”

“She killed Lamar, didn’t she?”

He shook his head furiously. “No…I don’t believe it…that was just an accident…”

Dom took a step back toward the hallway. “I think you should be careful around your wife, Brandon.”

The man didn’t look back up so Dom took the opportunity to flee. It wasn’t safe to stick around—even if he didn’t believe Brandon could hurt him in his current state. The problem was that he didn’t know where Lisa-Marie was and she was who really scared him.

He successfully made it to the street but he wouldn’t celebrate until he was back in his home behind several locked doors. As he hurried from one cul-de-sac to the next, a set of headlights passed over him.

It was only a brief glance he caught of the driver inside the car but he could tell it was Lisa-Marie nonetheless. His pace quickened and he just about sprinted to his house.

There was no way she’d know just by seeing him what he’d done or rather what he’d gotten out of Brandon but he needed to be in his house again.

Dom shut and locked the door in record time. He took his cell phone into his bedroom and shut and locked that door as well.

Once he caught his breath, he started to type in the number to the police station. He hoped an anonymous tip would be enough to move them to action. If not, he had a feeling he’d be the next victim.

[handelplayssims]

It’s 5AM! The usual time I break off for the evening! But it’s an hour until Ashlynn needs to go into work. Annnd Zayne woke up in a clingy streak. Welp.

It’s All Haunts Day! Zane is real excited for the holiday, he’s a kid! All the things about spooky stuff, mischief making, costumes and candy is an excellent holiday! Santiago is pleased to decorate.  Ashlynn just wants candy, while Kiara likes the spooky things, trick or treating, and making costumes! Anyway, Zane’s up and being mopey before school so uh...have some fun doing art? Art is some of those sad outlets. Also works towards his aspiration and all that. Anyway, Santiago has the day off. The whole weekend off as Editor-in-Chief! Social need is low so let’s go and invite someone over to chat. I see a neighbor! A family oriented one who’s somehow a friend! Hmm. Let’s change that.

Let’s argue with Noel Grey, a single mom who’s family-oriented and active, about parenting and children in general! She’s the neighbor right across the street and despite her average normal appearance, she has a hidden history...also another townie who was adopted into a household. Lots of arguments happening! All to lower their relationship down to aquantences and disliked. Well not fully disliked but in the red. But in that time, Ashlynn actually came home from work! She’s now here to chat and be friendly, at least a little bit.

The kids are finally back! After they sort out their needs, we’ll get all costumed up! Also I keep sending Ashlynn to go and wash dishes, and she keeps going to the bathroom where Zane is taking a bath. Bah.

I’m often not pleased with the options given for costumes in the base game so I go with the ones added in Spooky Stuff Pack. Or Get Famous, if I feel they have the skills or wherewithal to get movie set-esque quality stuff. Like Kiara is creative so that would be soon for her but when she’s out of being a teen perhaps. Huh. And just putting on the costume and having the house decorated was enough for Kiara to have a fantastic holiday. Huh. Ah well.

So I’m looking at Ashlynn’s whims and it’s to win a competitive game. While I do have video gaming or chess, she seems like a scrabble sort of gal. Alas, that’s another expansion pack. So let’s go for not!Jenga, Don’t Wake the Llama! ...the problem with the Trick or Treat tradition is that it’s more about serving the kids dropping in rather than the kids themselves going out and trick or treating. So we got kids trapsing through the house to get to the candy bowl I set up. Alas.

Ooh! I spotted ghosts wandering around the neighborhood! Time for the spooky tradition to be fulfilled! You can pester either ghosts or vampires to fulfill that tradition. Sadly, not werewolves. So I’ll send Kiara out to pester a ghost! Oh, and Zane got trick or treat fulfilled. Because that works with mischief tradition. Could get rid of it and just focus on trick or treat but eh. I still think it’s important!

Anyway, Santiago is sad because whims haven’t been fulfilled! I can’t get a job promotion but I could go for the work task, which is to write articles! I need to interview sims and write about them. So let’s interview your wife’s friend! Mizuki Medea! The person we challenged to Jenga! First we interviewed about her life, which gave us all of her traits. Very handy thing to have, and then we interviewed for a story! That only got us just started on the work thing. Three more people it is then! And then I send everyone to bed around 10. Everyone except Ashlynn! Still needs to have a little mischief thanks to her tradition of trick or treating. A few pranks on a few ghosts and its off to bed for her.

Also got door knocked on by a vampire and Greg ran across the street but what you not don’t notice when you’re asleep won’t hurt you!

Neighborhood Watch!

Nothing of note has happened recently. Check back tomorrow.

[coldhardbinch]

Woke up with some things on my mind yesterday and decided to write something Real for once 🙃

Church has always been my family business.

One of my earliest memories is giving my mother attitude while she pulled into the church parking lot. I’d spent the morning trying to convince her that I was too sick to go to church (I was not remotely ill) and she looked at me in the rear view and said, “You’re getting to that age where you don’t want to go to church.”

I don’t remember the whole lecture (I was probably about 3) but the gist of it was that this was not a feeling I was allowed to have. As the pastor’s kids, we were never supposed to be anything but thrilled to be at church. Nevermind that we were there more often than anyone, or that from the second we pulled into the parking lot, we were being scrutinized by the bitties and the deacons, so maybe we didn’t really feel all that welcome here. Them’s the brakes, kid. You’ll go to church, you’ll stay late, and you’ll enjoy it.

When I was a teenager trying to flake out on praise team practice, my father said to me, “The Bible says if you don’t use the gifts God gave you, He’ll take them away.” I went to practice and learned to sing simple songs about a simple faith. I could sing of Your love forever. My brother-in-law led us on his acoustic guitar every Sunday morning. My brother ran sound. My sister corralled her five children into church clothes, then the van. When she was late, I had a perfect view of the whisperers, the gossips, the Did You Notice crowd.

When I moved away from home, I comforted my parents by telling them there was a good Baptist church in my new neighborhood. I never went. When they asked, I lied. Sometimes, when I can get a Sunday off. Eventually, they stopped asking. I rarely called, anyway. I sang in the car, with my friends, in dive bars for karaoke and began to believe that maybe this was somehow my religion. 

My sister and I came out to each other via text on the same night. She made a joke about leaving her husband and dating girls. The kind of joke I recognized. I texted back: “So, girls, huh?” and soon we were laughing. “Girls are so pretty!” “Who isn’t obsessed with boobs?” 

She left her husband that year. My parents’ adjustment period took some time, some difficult conversations, some days where I was too mad at my mother to speak to her at all. On Thanksgiving, they held a big breakfast that included my ex-brother-in-law’s new wife, my sister’s new girlfriend, and her three kids. I video called in for moral support. My father made sure I was “there” before starting a little sermon about our family’s new normal. Change is hard but can be good, or something. I was out of practice, hadn’t heard him preach in years, tuned out a bit out of habit. Near the end, he turned to whoever was holding the phone showing my face, and credited me with helping to make these changes happen. I just kind of smiled, not sure how to respond. A response I've given him many times. Then everyone went back to their bacon.

That Christmas, I came home and came out of my own closet, to much less fanfare. Everyone kind of Knew, You Know.

I think about that Thanksgiving more and more as my siblings’ children grow up, become their own people. Be allowed to be their own person at all, rather than the Optics Approved Pastor’s Kid. They wear their hair and makeup in ways my parents would never have allowed us to, in defiance of gender norms and sometimes good sense. Openly read books, watch movies, listen to music that I remember having to smuggle past my parents. They go out to plays that have nothing to do with Christmas, Easter, or any part of the Bible. They go on out-of-state school trips, far from their parents’ watchful eyes, without a single religious official around to remind them that Jesus Died For Them.

I think of those little babies, now full-fledged People, running unsupervised through Disneyland. Out with their friends with no fear of being Caught Dressed Like This. Standing up to their dick of a youth pastor. Going away for college. Prioritizing themselves over the 24-hour family business that is being the pastor’s family. And my heart swells to bursting. There is so much in this world that I can’t shield them from, that I simply cannot change. But seeing them spared a few of the specific lonlinesses of my youth heals some part of me I’d forgotten was even broken.

And I think about that Thanksgiving, and all the lonely ones I spent away from family, knowing I would have felt lonlier with them. I think I may always be a bit of a stranger to my family. I think that’s how I prefer it. But I know that I made my family a little less lonely for the next generation. When I see my father’s eyes in my face and so many others, it no longer feels like the gaze of a vengeful god.

[dxsole]

❝ yeah. looked like you had it all under control. ❞  / bash @ didi @dsperado

🍰 LET THEM EAT CAKE! 🍰

Not Accepting.

Didi threw him a look. “It was under control.” She muttered, harshly wiping frosting off her cheek. In fact there was quite a lot of frosting. And sprinkles. And ganache. And bits of fluffy cake bits.

“Listen...I am a reasonable person, hm.” They both know she’s not. “It is a sick, domestic tradition to pit people against me in a competition that involves food. Any kind of food.” Didi has always said she was never as good a baker as she was a chef, but no one else could say that. No one.

“I made Dacquoise from scratch and those imbecilic, biased judges choose someone who made a cake from a box?—” Didi can admit a lot of things get her angry, but this had made her climb over the judges table and force feed cake to the Vice President of the Home Owner’s Association angry. 

“Sebastian,” Full name. Serious Business. Still ready to violently force feed cake to someone. “If you do not fight for the injustices of the world, it can never get better, hm.” This was a little less about justice and more about sating her love of vengeance, but I digress.

“Now are you going to help me get icing out of my hair or what?”

[tabitha2]

I looked in the mirror and couldn’t believe it. I’m like seriously dumb blonde housewife. Wait, dumb ? And… wife ??? Oh. My. God. Like I’m too stupid to figure out what to do, with a brain like never passed 9th grade. Because duh. I’m like. Srsly. Sexy. Grades ? Being into girls ? Being young ? And in control ? Forget all that crap. It was never real and as I grew up, aged…

Stop, wait. I’m soooo confused. I had to take some selfies to believe my eyes. Omigawd I’m straight now ! I’m like this horny skanky mom who can’t stop herself scoring with the varsity quarterback. Even after my husband became the football coach. Husband ? Shit, I’m married ! With children who are some of them grown now. No matter what my mind thinks, or thinks it thinks, this is what my body does. Talk like a straight older woman, act like a mature mom. With my dried-up snatch that gets wet for all dick, and my obvious hard nips for any guy. I’m a pro nympho bimbo and it’s so much better as the MILF I was meant to be. Doing my eyes to hide the lines…

My eyes. Did they used to be that color ? They still are so damn pretty. Even with the wrinkles. Which don’t stop me from giving my cookies to all the hot senior boys— a new crop of young studs every year. It’s totally cool. I am what I see, and I gotta just like accept it. Putting on lipgloss as I back out of the driveway so I can give a super sweet smile to the well-hung dean of discipline. See how easy that is ? And how well it works ? It was genius to just accept my natural talent for getting fucked. Like a bimbo.

It’s like fucking is what I’m good for. And pleasing Men. And my face. My body. My… feelings ? I just love young cock ?! Sure I do. Before menopause it was older guys. But now. This must be the curse part they mentioned. I’m in heat and I gotta get laid. So ok. I got this. I know just what to do. I just do what I know. Use my God-given talent for taking what they put into me. Those teenage boys who are so eager, insistent, horny, and powerful.

Damn, I feel weird saying that, but it’s true. Every year I throw a big party, where I fuck the football team. And they nut in me. Just like always. Like I always have done since I was 16 or 14 or 12 or whatever. Who knows the father of any of my kids, really. I’m super in heat and I will do anything. Even fuck boring church-going Gladys and Joe next door, all the wrinkly couples who hook up when the brats are in bed. Yep, I’m the neighborhood piece all the pervs pound. It’s what us dumb girls do, so they like us, want us. You gotta please your Man. Your hubby. All the Men. I remember my mom telling me. Now look at me ! I have been doing this for more years than my kids have been alive. Using my body not my brain. Getting Men. The best ones. Every time I can. Sneaking around and having a blast. Think I’m so clever but everyone knows I’m a swinger.

I was like 25, now I’m going on 52. I used to be a cheerleader and I so support the team still. And I totally like guys ! Every one. Each and every fucking one. I support all the players, I boost all the events, I show up with a big smile and my tits as big as I can make them. And I drive the carpool. Gotta go get the kids. Gotta get my housewife bimbo butt over to pickup pronto. I play the game. From the sidelines. Behind closed doors. I can’t get caught being sexy, and I think I’m so good that I can get away with it. Gangbangs and all that shit…

What the actual fuck ? Shit. Sugar honey ice tea. This is, like, so no way. I gotta, like, fix it. The pride of the school in the form of muscles and manhood. Waiting on me. Throwing me on the bed or the bleachers or the ground or mmm yes. Now stop screwing around, drop a dress over that bikini, and get my ass down there. I know just what to do… uh huh. I’m so good at being an athletic supporter. Ever since I got pregnant and dropped out. And blew the principal to boot. He used to call me that nickname I had in class. Remember ? They all used to call me Highbeams. Stupid nipples that get me called stuff. It’s totally out of control but I let it run me. It’s not a curse, it’s a blessing. Just be it. Even as I hear myself sounding so silly. And know I never can. Never could. Never would, never will. Never. Never get out of this.

The demon was supposed to make me look like Megan Fox, not some dumb trashy skank of a small-chested suburb wife soccer mom past her prime who drives a bimbo box and had a ton of babies… but I don’t mind. I don’t have any mind to find it any. Might as well just fit in. It feels so good ! So right. And I have such school spirit ! I’ll just be as he made me. As I was born. As I will be. I’m a good dumb hot old wife for life until death do I part. Fuck yeah.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 1) - The Nanny

Summary: The reader interviews for a new live-in nanny position with Jensen and quickly gets the job but she starts to slowly see that her new employer is going to be different than any other she’s had before...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Slow Burn

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of death of a spouse/death of a parent

A/N: Please enjoy the first part of this series! This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo!

________

If someone had said you’d be celebrating your 30th birthday by accepting an interview to be a live in nanny when you were a kid, you would have told them they were nuts. Beyond nuts. Beyond help for that matter.

But there you were. Thirty. Single. Childless. Taking care of other people’s families and not doing much else with your life. You weren’t sure if your mom would have been on you about the no kids thing or the no boyfriend thing more to be honest.

But the pay was normally good and sometimes great and it gave you a taste of family, even if you were just the help to the adults most of the time.

You buzzed the button by the gate at the end of the driveway, a brief moment passing before it opened. It was probably on a timer like most of the people you’d worked for before, an alarm system kicking on at some point in the evening that required a buzz in, the code or a car sensor. You drove down the driveway and parked a little behind a black SUV. The house was a little modern, a little grand, a little overwhelming. A fence and lots of trees surrounded the property. The yard appeared large but you could see houses on either side. Private but suburban. 

The cadillac wasn’t a shocker. Most everyone in these neighborhoods had Escalades. You walked past an open garage on the way up, a muscle car and a more modest smaller SUV parked inside. You went up the very short path and stepped up, ringing the doorbell and fixing your shirt. You were in jeans and a plain gray shirt. It was your normal wear for chasing small children around all day and you weren’t a fan of uniforms.

“Hi,” said a very tired, very handsome man as he opened the door. “You must be from Nanny Core.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N from Home Pair,” you said with a smile. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the door. 

“The last girl was from Nanny Core,” he said. He blinked them open and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Yes, Y/N. You’re the one that’s a consultant, not firmly associated with Home Pair, right?”

“Correct,” you said as he opened the door more and you stepped inside.

“Can I ask what the distinction is?”

“Mostly it has to do with benefits,” you said. “Consultants pay out of pocket for their own or negotiate with their client for those to be covered.”

“Gotcha,” he yawned. You looked ahead and he wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I must seem like an ass.”

“You seem tired is all Mr. Ackles. Not a crime,” you said with a smile. He nodded and he returned it, no fake cheesiness to it. 

“Mind if we do the interview in the kitchen over a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“Wherever you like, sir,” you said. You took off your shoes when you noticed he didn’t wear any inside and he chuckled as you walked back farther into the house.

“Uh, for the record, call me Jensen. None of that sir stuff. They must teach that at nanny school or something huh?” he said, motioning to a table. “I noticed all of you do it.”

“Something like that,” you said. You took a seat and watched him go to a coffee machine, fumbling with it before he spilled some ground coffee on the counter. He shut his eyes and gripped the counter’s edge, taking a deep breath to himself. “How about I make the coffee and you take a seat, hm?”

“I’m okay,” he said as he opened his eyes. 

“Well making you coffee is probably going to come up in my job quite a bit so consider this part of the interview. It’s alright, really,” you said. He glanced over to you and you smiled. 

“Thank you,” he said. You swapped places with him and got him a cup going, taking a mug off the counter and waiting a beat before liquid started pouring out. “I’m gonna ask you the same question I’ve asked all seven other women I’ve talked to today.”

“Yes?”

“Why should I trust you to watch my children?”

“Honestly?” you asked as he nodded. You smiled and carried the cup over to him, Jensen taking a long sip. “You shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t. That seems counterproductive.”

“I wouldn’t trust any stranger with my child. Trust is earned, not given. I think the real question is do you believe I’m capable of earning that trust with you and that’s something intrinsically only you know.”

“How so?”

“You meet a lot of different kinds of people with this job. My gut reaction to you is stressed, overwhelmed, sleep-deprived father who doesn’t really want any nanny at all but is forced into this situation. It’s going to be impossible for you to trust any of the seven woman from earlier or me off the bat, Jensen. You should be thinking of who will you come to trust. Who can you count on.”

“This is why my wife should have been the one doing this,” he said, smiling to himself as he drunk down most of the hot liquid.

“We could always re-schedule for when she’s available.”

“Oh, we’d have to wait a very long time for that,” he chuckled. He sat the mug down and glanced down briefly, smiling as he looked up. “She passed away unexpectedly six months ago. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said. He nodded and made a face like he wanted to make a comment. “My mom died kinda unexpectedly. I know it’s...harder.”

“You’re young. How old?”

“Turned thirty today,” you said. He laughed and you heard the life behind it, Jensen shaking his head.

“Well Happy Birthday. I meant with your mother though. If that’s okay with you I mean.”

“It’s fine. I was sixteen,” you said. 

“That...fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So does losing your wife,” you said. 

“Yes it does. I’ve grieved. We all have. The kids are small. They’ll be okay.”

“Is dad okay?” you asked.

“Yes. Ready to start moving on with life again,” he said with a soft smile. “You’re kind. Not in a I’m trying to get this job kind of way. Just kind.”

“Well being cruel doesn’t sound like very much fun,” you said.

“You’re not trying to impress me.”

“The first rule of nannying, Jensen. You think you’re interviewing us when in reality we’re interviewing you too.”

“How am I doing so far?”

“Nice coffee choice,” you said with a smile that he nodded at. “You respect people. You’ll employ me but won’t treat me like I’m second class. You’re checking the boxes so far.”

“What if I don’t check all the boxes?”

“You don’t get to know the luxury of knowing the answer yet, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Interview isn’t over.”

“You got fucked over by somebody, didn’t you.”

“Also perceptive,” you said. “Like I said, I don’t tolerate being treated unkindly anymore. It’s why I left my last position.”

“I have one more question,” he said. “Would you treat my children like they’re your own?”

“Again, asking the wrong question,” you said. He sat back and crossed his arms, smirking at you.

“What exactly should I be asking?”

“Will you treat my children kindly and with respect but take charge when required?”

“What’s the difference?”

“One is me doing my job and the other is me doing yours.”

“How old did you say you were again?”

“Thirty today.”

“Right. Well I think I know where I stand. Do you have anything for me?”

“Can you show me a picture of your kids?” you asked. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “You answered my question.”

“I didn’t show you anything yet.”

“You’d be surprised how many fathers I’ve met don’t carry pictures of their children in their wallets. That one is just a me thing.”

“Your dad do that?” he asked as he tucked it away.

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. He was polite enough to not go down that route though and this was already getting more personal than you anticipated. “I think I know where I stand as well.”

“I’d like to hire you,” he said.

“Assuming our negotiations go well, I accept,” you said. He held out his hand over the table and you shook it.

“I did come up with what I thought was fair for salary and benefits. Let me go grab the paperwork and hopefully settle on something,” he said. He excused himself and you looked around the house, already trying to familiarize yourself with things. He was more relaxed when he returned with some papers and a notebook, handing you a few sheets. “If I’m missing anything let me know. I-”

“This is my weekly rate?” you asked when you saw the number at the top of the page.

“Oh no. That’s your daily,” he said as he took a seat. “So I think that’s-”

“Jensen,” you said, pushing the paper back. “I have to ask, things like insurance, are those coming out of your pocket or mine?”

“I’ll cover the expenses of your health, dental, all of that. You just choose and I’ll subsize it as part of your paycheck,” he said. 

“This is for a live in position. Um...can you just...explain what makes up that daily rate number?” you asked.

“It’s simply your base pay. Obviously I pay for housing, utilities, gas obviously. I will get you a credit card to make purchases with for the kids and all of that so it’s simple to keep track of. You’re free to any of the food in the kitchen. I’m guessing the salary is the sticking point here.”

“Jensen,” you said as you scratched your head. 

“I can go up fifty more dollars a day.”

“Jensen. This is way, way too much money. Way too much,” you said. “The average rate around here is about twenty five an hour or two hundred a day. Jensen this is double that. Are you factoring in like time and a half for additional nights and weekends?”

“No. That’d be on top of that. I thought that was a fair value based on the fact you are going to be taking care of the most valuable things in my life. It’s gonna get taxed too so it’s not like you see all of it.”

“You’re sweet, Jensen,” you said, writing down a number at the top of the page. “The average in Austin is twenty five an hour. I would be very happy with that.”

“You have to literally be the first person in existence to negotiate their salary down from the offer,” he said.

“Are you rejecting my offer?” you asked. He took the paper and crossed your number out, jotting down his own and spinning it back. “Jensen.”

“Y/N,” he said, crossing his arms. “I came down. Now it’s your turn. Do you accept?”

You knew thirty five was still way overpriced for the job, especially considering everything else he was paying for.

“I will accept on the condition that you get four hours of what we’d call evening or weekend at the normal rate ever week.”

“I can agree to that,” he said with a smile, writing that down. “So medical plan. Single, plus one, family?”

“Single for all that,” you said. 

“I should mention that there is an in-law suite off to the other side of the garage where you’ll be staying. It’s just down the hall but it has its own small living area and kitchenette. There is a separate entrance to it. If you have guests over I just ask you keep them to your area of the house,” he said.

“Absolutely. I don’t tend to bring people over much anyways while I’m on the job,” you said. He let you read over the rest of the benefits, a good amount of sick and vacation time too. Technically you were free evenings and weekends but he could ask you to work longer if he needed you and you were available. Overall everything seemed in order. “Alright. Everything looks good to me.”

“Awesome. Are you available to start Monday?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “It gives me plenty of time to move in things tomorrow so I can jump into the kids routine first thing Monday.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll show you around. We can start with your side of the house.” You got up and followed him over to near the front door and down a long hallway, past a set of doors. There was a frosted glass one to your left just before he pushed open a wide white one.

Behind it was a living area and kitchen. Not huge, about the size of a small apartment. There was a TV and sectional, a table tucked against the wall and a kitchenette like he’d mentioned with full size appliances. 

“Like I said, I know it’s small. Please like, seriously watch TV out in the family room at night if you want or hang out wherever or the yard or pool. This is just your own space when you want to be away from us.” You hummed and he showed you a closet and then a bedroom and bathroom. It was simple but decorated nicely and looked relaxing. “If there’s something obvious I’m missing please let me know. A cleaning service does come by every two weeks on Tuesdays at around ten in the morning. They’ll do in here too. Otherwise you can keep after yourself. Cleaning stuff is in the laundry room. Oh yeah. Um, this is probably the last time I’ll like, ever come in here unless you need help moving things in since this will be your space.”

“Thanks. I don’t have too much. I do have one request before we sign all the paperwork.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to meet the kids if that’s alright. There’s not much point in hiring me if they hate me.”

“Fair point. We’ll get ‘em over here and then get you all squared away.”

Monday Morning

“Good morning,” you said, a cup of coffee in your hand already as Jensen yawned. 

“Morning,” he mumbled. His hair was a mess and he was in only a pair of boxer briefs before he paused and looked down. “I should probably put on some clothes.”

“This is your house. Wear whatever you normally would. Pretend I’m invisible,” you said as you poured a cup of coffee into a mug for him.

“Sounds like you worked for some real assholes,” he said, graciously taking the cup. “As long as it doesn’t bother you, me walking around in my undies.”

“No, not at all,” you said with a smile. “Would you like me to drop the kids off at school and daycare this morning?”

“Sure,” he said. “Car keys are on the table by the garage.”

“Okay great. I’m used to driving that kind of SUV,” you said. You snuck a look at your schedule you’d printed out again, knowing the twins would get need to get picked up around noon. You started to work on their lunches and snacks for the day while he took out the carton of eggs from the fridge. He cracked one into a pan and turned the heat on, yawning again as he got out some bread and threw it on a plate. “Would you like me to make lunch for you as well?”

“No thank you. I’m getting lunch with my manager today. You don’t have to make me coffee in the morning either, Y/N. Your job is to take care of the kids, not me,” he said.

“A cup of coffee is not difficult, Jensen. My job is to help you so if I can make dad’s life a smidge easier it’ll make theirs better too,” you said with a smile.

“You’re not like, a morning person are you,” he chuckled. “I don’t do peppy in the morning.”

“Oh no. I’m always a little nervous when I start a new job. I’ll get a rhythm down soon,” you said.

“So what do you normally do once the kids are dropped off?” he asked as he got out a spatula.

“On a weekday I’ll review their schedule, see if anything different is going on. An average day like today I will clean their rooms, their bathroom, do some laundry while they’re at school, maybe some shopping. I’ll pick up the twins, bring them home for lunch, a little playtime, a nap. We’ll have some quiet time and maybe a craft or coloring before we get JJ from school. Then I’ll give them all a snack, we can get outside and play to get some energy out. I’ll help JJ with any schoolwork she has while the twins play and then I will start on dinner about the time you’ll be getting home. Since you have no plans currently tonight I’ll leave you guys be at that point until tomorrow unless you ask me for help.”

“So when do you take a break?” he asked.

“Naptime. I’ll have lunch with the twins. Don’t worry about me Jensen. That’s my normal plan but if you would like me to run some errands in the morning I can,” you said.

“No, no. Just…” he trailed off. “I still want to make them breakfast and dinner and play with them too is all.”

“We’ll figure out the right mix of things,” you said. “You just gotta tell me is all, okay? It can vary day to day too,”

“Yeah,” he said, taking his fried egg out of the pan and placing it on one piece of bread. He made a sandwich and took a big bite, looking out the back window. “I never asked. How was your birthday?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dropping some carrots into a reusable bag.

“On Saturday you said it was your 30th. You do anything fun that night?” he asked with a soft smile.

“I got a new job. That was the highlight of my day,” you said, Jensen cocking his head. “I ordered pizza, binged netflix. My normal Saturday routine.”

“I know everybody jokes about 30 but it’s really just jokes. Wait until you’re 42,” he chuckled. “Then you really feel old.”

“Most 42 year olds would kill to look like you,” you said. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s alright. I took it as a compliment,” he said, smiling again. “So you did nothing for your birthday, huh?”

“Uh, no,” you said, mixing in some grapes into each of the snack bags.

“I’m gonna get you a birthday cake,” he said.

“Mr. Ackles-”

“I thought I said it’s Jensen. I’m the boss so what I say goes. We’re gonna have a birthday cake for you tonight. So. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Whatever you want is perfectly fine.”

“Y/N.”

“...I like red velvet,” you said. He smiled and chuckled. 

“That was my wife’s favorite,” he said. “Haven’t had that since her birthday. She would have liked you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re quite kind to me. She was always protective of me, even if she was the scaredy cat most of the time.”

“Can I ask how…” you said as he took another bite.

“Accident. Tractor trailer versus her car. He tried to miss her but it was too late. I wanted to hate the guy too but it was an accident and I couldn’t blame him for that.”

“My father died in a car crash when I was six. It does get better with time,” you said.

“That’s why you didn’t know if he had a picture of you in his wallet or not,” he said as you nodded. “You’re too young to have that much tragedy in life.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not young anymore.”

“You’re young and overly generous,” you said with a smile. 

“Misery loves company,” he said as you both heard a few feet above you running around. “Munchkins are up.”

“You want to make breakfast or should I?” you asked.

“Give me five minutes to get them in some clean clothes. Then I can show you how they like their eggs.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jensen.”

Later That Evening

“Y/N?” said Jensen, knocking on the door to your room. You got up from the couch and answered it, Jensen standing there with a smile. “The kids and I were wondering if you’d like your birthday cake for dessert.”

“You actually got me a cake?”

“I did indeed,” he said. You followed him down the hall and back into the living space, Arrow running up to you.

“Y/N! Are you sleeping over?” she asked as she gave you a hug.

“I live just down the hall now, cutie,” you said.

“Daddy, can we have ice cream too?” asked Zeppelin as he climbed up into his chair at the table.

“Sure thing bud. Girls, would you like some too?” he asked. Both the little ones said yes as he looked back at you.

“I really shouldn’t,” you said.

“We eat ice cream in this house,” he said.

“You don’t have to twist my arm over it,” you said. He got out the container and set it down on the table by the cake, lighting the match on the candle on top. “Oh please don’t-”

He started to sing though and the kids joined in, Jensen having a really good voice actually. You blew out the candle when they were through and he dished up some dessert for everyone.

“Y/N, can you read me a bedtime story later?” asked Zeppelin and you glanced at his father, Jensen making a face.

“Well Y/N’s not at work right now so she doesn’t have to unless she wants to,” said Jensen. “We’re already cutting into her-”

“I would love to, Zepp,” you said, his little face lighting up. “Maybe you guys want to join us?”

“JJ’s a little big to get read to at night I’ve been told,” said Jensen.

“Am not,” she said. “I can get a story too, right?”

“Of course,” you said. You took a bite of the cake and hummed. “This is really good.”

“I bought it myself,” said Jensen. 

“Well you have good taste,” you said. “In fact, I’m gonna have another slice.”

“Good,” he said as Zeppelin grabbed the ice cream container. “Alright, alright. You can have a bit more, bud.”

“Night, JJ,” you said, getting a hug from her as you put her back to bed an hour later. JJ smiled from her bed and you flicked off the light, pulling the door shut after you turned on her night light.

“Thanks for giving up your night with them. I didn’t mean to have that happen,” said Jensen as you headed downstairs with him.

“It’s no problem. It’s good bonding for us,” you said. You helped him pick up the plates at the table and wash them off, Jensen grabbing a bottle of whiskey from a tall cabinet as you covered up what was left of the cake. 

“Drink?” he asked.

“A small one,” you said. He poured a single into a whiskey glass and slid it over to you, smirking when you took a sip. “Oh that’s smooth.”

“Very,” he said, drinking from his own glass. “Thank you for tonight. JJ’s been…”

“She’s the oldest. She’s gonna have a harder time with it.”

“You were about her age when your dad died you said?”

“She’ll be okay. She’ll miss her but it won’t be a deep pain. She’ll have nice memories of her mom. She’s doing pretty good, trust me.”

“Can I ask another personal question?”

“I’m off the clock. Shoot,” you said.

“Your mom ever...try again with someone else?”

“Yes. Years later she found a good guy. He actually is who I stayed with after she passed. He’s married now, has some kids of his own but I know if I call him up he’d drop everything for me.”

“Good. I was getting afraid you were a complete Shakespeare tragedy,” he chuckled.

“Nah. I’m not at that level of crazy in my life,” you said. “As long as we’re off the clock, can I ask if you’re asking because you’re thinking of getting back out there?”

“I am. My wife kind of insisted on it. When we first got serious we had this deal that we’d go try again if something happened. I mean, I don’t cry everytime I think about her now. I can smile and be happy and that ache doesn’t try to swallow me up everyday anymore. I think it’s time I could get back out there.”

“I’d say it is. The kids are ready. They’ll understand.”

“You think your mom loved the second guy as much as your dad?”

“For sure. She was a bit of a free spirit but she didn’t think you had to have just one soulmate. She told me that after she’d met Ray. She said she got two so maybe I had two out there. I haven’t found either one of them yet so I’ll take increasing my odds as best I can.”

“Well you’re not gonna meet your soulmate sitting at home on Saturday nights, Y/N.”

“Just a lot of douchey guys,” you said.

“Ah. You need to meet a better kind of guy is all,” he said.

“Yeah see I’m thirty. All the good guys are married by now.”

“Oh all of them are taken. I didn’t realize that,” he said with a chuckle. “What am I then? Another douchebag?”

“You don’t count. You’re…”

“Too old for you?” he chuckled.

“My boss. Plus you’re like famous. You can go get like a victoria secret model or something.”

“Looks ain’t everything.”

“Maybe I ought to try older guys now that you say that,” you said.

“Y/N, you gotta be careful with that. I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of.”

“And this is why I watch netflix on Saturday nights,” you said.

“You serious about the older guy crack?” he asked. 

“I do find them more...attractive sometimes. I guess it depends on how old. Why?”

“I got a friend my age, might be interested?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you said. “No offense to your friend but...I mean if he’s 42...I want kids and stuff you know? Although a dude it doesn’t really matter how old...I don’t know.”

“It was just a thought,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll think about it,” you said. “He’s not a weirdo, right.”

“No. He’s an actor. Something to think about,” he said.

“I will,” you said. “Thank you for the birthday cake, Jensen. You’re a good person.”

“I bought a cake.”

“Yeah but I haven’t really had one of those in years. You’re a good person.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said as you slid off your seat. “You’re free to hang out if you like.”

“I’m kinda tired. I won’t be getting up that early from now on I don’t think.”

“I completely understand,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[moodymelanist]

One Thousand Followers Celebration

okay I’m honestly kind of shook that we’re even here but thank you to everyone who’s a part of our little corner of the fandom. I love you all so so much and I’m so happy to be here ❤️ most people requested something cute and fluffy so here’s Cassian being drunk and and Nesta comes to get him. I hope you all enjoy!! 💘💘💘

feel free to read it on AO3 here too!

word count: 2975

—————

Nesta was halfway through her latest read when her phone started buzzing incessantly. It was just getting to the good part, where the main couple started to realize maybe there was something more between them than burning hatred, and she didn’t want to put it down. Frankly, it reminded her of her own love story, but she’d never admit that to anyone out loud.

She was forced to look away when her phone was vibrating so constantly with texts she thought someone was calling her. Sighing, she reached for her phone, unlocking it only to see her husband had sent her almost twenty messages.

Cassian, 11:52 PM

Nesta

Nes

I love yiu sooooo muche

Youe so pretty

I weish u were here

everyons laufghint at me but i miss u

wyd

nesssssssssss

are u ignoringme for a book agwain

:(

Swethearft<3

did i tell u i luv u td

wait its ok I ddid

i want a kiss when i see u ok

The remaining messages were a jumble of Spanish and English words mixed together, and while she had a working knowledge of Spanish, she didn’t know it well enough to even attempt to decipher what he was trying to tell her. Still, she couldn’t help but smile as she read through them all, affection blooming in her chest for her favorite person in the world.

Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel had gone out to their favorite bar for guys night, and Cassian was clearly drunk off his ass. It was really hard to keep a straight face with him normally, but when he was drunk, she thought it was one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen.

Nesta, 12:01 AM

I love you too, you big goofball

I’ll give you a kiss and a hug when I see you how’s that

Her phone was ringing within seconds, a picture of Cassian filling her screen before she answered.

“Hello?” she said, marking her page with a bookmark before closing it.

“Nesta!” Cassian exclaimed. She had to pull her phone from her ear for a moment, but she smiled again anyways.

“Hi, Cassian,” she replied, trying not to laugh. He was just so cute. “Are you having a good time?”

“Leave me alone, I’m talking to my wife,” he said, his voice sounding slightly further away. He must have been talking to Rhys or Azriel, but the way referred to her made her want to melt. They’d been together for years and married for just over one, but it still sent a thrill through her to hear him claim her out loud.

“Nes?” he said, his voice back to normal volume.

“I’m here,” she said, getting off the bed to begin looking for her shoes. He normally called her and started getting ridiculously affectionate when it was getting close for him to come home, so it was only a matter of time before he asked her to come get him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Looking for my shoes,” she replied, spotting her boots on the floor. Leaning her phone against her ear, she bent down and put them on over her leggings before walking back to her dresser.

“Are you coming to find me?” he asked. She couldn’t help but smile at how excited he sounded by the prospect.

“Yes, baby.” Nesta hit speaker and put the phone down on their dresser as she took off the oversized shirt that she’d borrowed from him, slid a sports bra on, and put on a plain tee shirt over it.

“Oh thank God,” he said, and then dropped his voice to a loud whisper. “You’re much more fun than the dumbasses I’m with.”

She’d opened her mouth to reply, but then Cassian began talking to someone else nearby. “Tarquin! Fancy seeing you here! Are you still mad about your windows? Nes, I gotta go. Love you.”

It was a cool September evening, so Nesta grabbed a denim jacket before throwing her hair up into a bun and leaving their apartment. Once she got to her car, it was a short fifteen minutes to get to The Sidra. Thankfully there was ample street parking around the corner, and the bouncer let her in with a quick flash of her ID.

Nesta walked inside, spotting her husband and his friends immediately. They took up a ridiculous amount of space in one of the booths, and she couldn’t resist smiling as Cassian visibly brightened by her appearance.

“Nesta!” he shouted, grinning widely as she got closer. So much for subtlety, she supposed. She offered repeated apologies as she walked over to where he was sitting, but thankfully most of the people there seemed to think his behavior was too cute to be a serious nuisance.

Once she was next to the side of the booth he was sitting on, he pulled her in for a hug, wrapping his muscular arms around her waist and laying his head on her chest.

“Cassian,” she said at a normal volume, endlessly amused as he snuggled into her. She leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head before turning to greet Rhys and Azriel, both of whom looked seconds away from breaking out laughing.

“Don’t you dare,” she told them, tightening her arms around Cassian as she gave his friends a look. They both hold their hands up in surrender, Azriel raising his beer at her before turning back to Rhys.

“I missed you,” Cassian said against her chest, his voice muffled. “So much.”

“Every minute without you was excruciating,” Nesta said, playing along. He looked up at her with a pout.

“Stop teasing me,” he told her. He was frowning slightly now. “I did miss you a lot, you know.”

“I’m sorry. You’re just so cute like this, it’s hard not to tease you a little bit.”

“Not as cute as you.” Cassian smiled up at her, pleased with himself. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes good-naturedly and let him tug her into his lap.

“Sorry to crash your guys’ night,” she said to Rhys and Azriel now that she was facing them.

“He’s not as much fun when he gets like this anyway,” Azriel replied, chuckling. “In his old age, he’s turned into a sappy drunk.”

“Hey! We’re the same age!” Cassian protested from behind her, tightening his grip around her waist. Azriel and Cassian had both turned thirty earlier this year, while Rhys’ birthday wasn’t until November. Nesta had turned twenty-eight back in April.

“Good thing I like sappy drunks,” she said, twisting around to face him. He gave his friends a smug look as she pressed a kiss to his warm cheek, his stubble scratching her face in a way she loved.

“You two are the worst,” Rhys groaned.

“Like you and my sister are any better,” Nesta shot back as she turned around. Feyre and Rhys had been together since their college days and had tied the knot once they’d both graduated.

“Speaking of her, I’d love to get back home to her,” he replied. He pulled out his phone and began texting, and Nesta guessed he was asking if she was still awake.

“I guess that’s it then, huh?” Azriel asked, raising an eyebrow at Nesta.

“I’m sure Gwyn is dying to see you too,” she teased, smiling softly at him. She and Emerie had colluded with Cassian and Rhys to set the pair up on a blind date last year, and everyone had been thrilled when they’d agreed to keep seeing each other.

“She has a performance tomorrow, so she’s probably already asleep,” Azriel answered, raising a hand to catch the closest server’s attention.

“I told you my wife was hot as fuck,” Cassian said suddenly, shifting to point wildly at Nesta as their server – a young woman named Nuala – came by to bring them the check.

“I’m thrilled,” she replied dryly, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Nesta. “He hasn’t shut up about you for the last half an hour, you know. Thank God he wasn’t making you up.”

“Thanks,” Nesta said, her lips twitching from trying to hold in her laughter. Rhys put down his card to pay for all of them, waving off Cassian and Azriel’s attempts to give him money for their share of the check. Within a few minutes, the four of them were getting out of their booth and beginning the walk to the exit.

Cassian immediately went for Nesta’s hand, intertwining their fingers before bringing their hands to his mouth so he could kiss the back of hers.

“That is so unhygienic,” she said, exasperated. “I haven’t washed my hands since I left our place.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he said, grinning at her. He kissed the back of her hand one more time before lowering their hands to swing them between the two of them as they kept walking.

“Who’s that guy glaring at you?” Nesta asked, noticing a tall Black guy staring Cassian down from a booth near the door. He had silver curls that stood out brightly against his dark skin, but he couldn’t have been much older than any of them. It had to have been natural, since his eyebrows and lashes were the same color.

“Oh, that’s Tarquin,” he replied, waving at Tarquin with a sheepish grin from where they stood. Tarquin flipped him off before turning back to his companions, who both shared the same dark skin and silvery hair.

“Why is he glaring at you? Do I need to talk to him?” Nesta asked, frowning. She was the only one allowed to glare at her husband like that.

“No sweetheart, it’s fine,” Cassian replied, laughing as they walked by the table. “It’s our inside joke. He threw a party senior year of college and I might have gotten drunk and broken a few windows in his house.”

“You what? Cassian, that’s not an inside joke.”

“It’s fine, Nes. I paid him back for it, but his parents were pissed. I’m banned from his neighborhood, actually.”

“That is not fine.”

“I might be drunk, but I know when I’m right,” Cassian said, just before walking right into the door. Azriel had accidentally let it swing behind him and Cassian hadn’t grabbed it in time, and it got him right in the face.

Nesta burst out laughing before she clapped her free hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. Are you okay?”

“The love of my life just laughed at my pain,” he whined, yanking open the door. Azriel and Rhys were absolutely losing it on the other side, making it hard for Nesta to keep her composure in solidarity with Cassian.

“Let me see it,” she said once they were outside. Cassian had pressed his hand to the side of his face, but Nesta got him to move it with her free one. His cheek was red from the impact, but she was sure it’d be fine with some ice once they got back to their place.

“It’s not so bad,” she reassured him. It was hard to keep a straight face with his friends – mostly Rhys – still howling in the background, but she got on her toes to give him a kiss on his face.

“It still hurts,” he said, pouting at her. “Can I get another kiss?”

“You big baby,” she said, but she leaned in and kissed his cheek again. “That’s all you’re getting. When we get home, I’m putting ice on that.”

“I love it when you boss me around,” he said dreamily, letting her tug him past his friends. “It does things to me.”

“Please take him home,” Rhys called from behind them. Nesta flipped him off before Cassian could, earning another wide grin from him as they walked towards her car.

“Thanks for the best thing I’ve ever seen!” Azriel added, both of their laughter fading the farther Nesta and Cassian walked.

“They’re so mean,” Cassian grumbled as she dug into her pocket for the keys.

“You want me to yell at them? Hurt their feelings a little?” she offered, unlocking the doors.

“No,” he said, pouting again. He got into the passenger seat as Nesta walked around to the driver’s side, and he immediately reached for her hand once she sat down.

“I’d do it if you wanted me to,” she told him, shooting him an amused look before starting the car.

“Maybe a real kiss would make me feel better,” he suggested, leaning towards her and puckering his lips.

Nesta leaned in and brushed her lips against his, but he wasn’t having it. He cupped the back of her head as he deepened their kiss, warming her up inside from the cool September air.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Nesta said, pulling away even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. He huffed and pouted but thankfully put his seatbelt on.

It was a quick ride back to their building, and thankfully Cassian managed not to walk into any more doors on their way upstairs. He wrapped his arm around her as they got off the elevator, which Nesta thought was as much for balance as it was to hold her close.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” he said once they were back in their apartment. He immediately walked into the bedroom and flopped on their bed, somehow managing not to knock anything over or hit Nesta’s book.

“You’re welcome,” Nesta said back, taking the time to take off her jacket and shoes before walking to the freezer to grab a bag of frozen peas. She wrapped it in a paper towel before coming to lay next to him, taking down her bun so that her hair was down around her.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered, turning to look at her. His eyes lit up when he noticed her hair was down, and he reached over to play with it. She handed him the peas instead, making sure he pressed them to the side of his face.

“I thought I knew all your secrets,” she whispered back, smiling softly as she indulged him. She loved that she was the one who got to see him like this, that she was the first person he saw in the mornings and the last person he saw when he closed his eyes at night.

“You do,” he confirmed, pulling the peas away to smile at her. She gave him a disapproving look and he quickly put them back before continuing. “I love nights like these.”

“Why’s that?” she asked. She reached out to brush some of his loose waves away from his face so they didn’t get in the way of the peas.

“I never thought I would be as happy as I am right now,” Cassian said seriously. His other eye was blocked from the position of the peas, so Nesta just held the gaze of the one she could see as he moved his hand to cup her face.

Sometimes he would say things like this that made her feel like her heart was going to burst from how sweet he was. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shifted closer to her, and Nesta inhaled deeply at the lingering scent of his cologne. “I remember when you wouldn’t even say my name out loud. Now you’re here with me and my peas.”

She laughed before answering. “It was the peas that really sold me, you know. I should have written them into my vows.”

“And you’re telling jokes? Tonight must be my lucky night.”

“Shut up before I take the peas from you, Cassian.”

“You love me too much to do that, Nes.”

“Stop using my love for you against me. It’s unfair and you know it.”

“Never,” he said, running his thumb across her cheek. “I love you too much not to use every advantage I can get.”

“I taught you too well,” she said, smiling softly at him. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”

She turned to kiss his palm, as unhygienic as it was, and then got up and started changing into pajamas. He groaned as he rolled off the bed, stretching as he stood up to reveal a strip of golden-brown skin at his abdomen before walking towards their bathroom.

Nesta joined him to brush her teeth in another one of his oversized shirts and no pants. He finished first, squeezing her hip as he walked by her and went back into their bedroom. She quickly brushed through her hair and pulled it into a loose braid for sleep before turning off the light.

Cassian was waiting for her under the covers, laughing as he examined the back of her book. “Is there smut in this one?”

She rolled her eyes before grabbing it from him. “You’re insufferable.”

“That’s a yes, then,” he said, grinning. She turned the lights off and put the book on her nightstand before she slid under the covers, snuggling up next to him anyway.

“I’ll let you know when I get to the juicy parts,” she grumbled eventually. He laughed under his breath, pulling her tighter against him as he maneuvered them so her back was to his chest as usual. His heart was beating its usual steady rhythm against her, a familiar baseline that let her know she was safe and everything was right in the world as long as she could curl up next to him every night.

“I love you,” she whispered, not sure if he was asleep yet. He could fall asleep anywhere, and ridiculously quickly at that; she wasn’t too proud to admit she was jealous.

“I love you, too,” he replied, tangling their legs together.

It didn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep after that.

tag list (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @live-the-fangirl-life​ | @nessiansimp | @bookologist | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @sayosdreams | @dealingdifferentdevils | @rowaelinismyotp | @arinbelle | @swankii-art-teacher | @angelicvoice19 | @teagoddess99 | @dontgetsalmonella | @champanheandluxxury | @chloepereyra | @bookstantrash | @houseofcalores | @lysakirova | @generalnesta | @gwynberdara | @sv0430 | @catplayinvioline | @julemmaes | @secretlovelybeauty | @flora-shadowshine | @imsointobooks | @sophilightwood | @lemonade-coolattas |

[trektraveler]

Nightingale

Chapter Six: Welcome to the Neighborhood

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Six: Welcome to the Neighborhood

Word Count: 5394

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing!

Additional Notes: The response to this story has been beyond my expectations! You guys have been the best! Thank you for continuing to read my work and encourage me, its kept my eye on the prize :)

Series Masterlist

It had been three days since Jensen sent you on that shopping trip and he hadn’t seen you since. Not in person, anyway. There was evidence that you were still in the apartment, dishes he used for breakfast were always put away clean by the time he got home at night. He heard your shower running one morning and he noticed the laundry was still being done. Life on set kept him busy, but he was still able to text back and forth with you. You always responded. Your answers were pleasant, but brief.

He was certain something was wrong, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. He had his suspicions that something had happened on the day you went to the department store. His bank sent him a text alert when the final charge went through, and it was far less than he expected it to be. Clif told him you’d been fine on the ride home, maybe a little tired. It didn’t make any sense and it was driving him crazy. Which meant he was driving everyone else crazy, especially Jared.

“Something is wrong.”

Jared didn’t look up from his phone, he’d heard the same thing from his co-star for days. “We’ve got a few minutes, why don’t you give her a call?”

“Nah, I want to talk in person. Its just our schedules don’t seem to match up.”

“She’s recovering from a concussion,” Jared pointed out. “She doesn’t have a schedule.”

“She’s got a sleep schedule. You know how hard it is with us, we work all kind of weird hours.” Jensen picked at the edges of his paper coffee cup, a nervous habit. “I never paid it much attention before, you know Dee was never around for filming. I’m sure its nothing, it just feels like she’s avoiding me.”

The mention of the ex-wife broke through Jared’s annoyance. Jensen looked like a dejected puppy and Jared had a soft spot for puppies. “Look, I’ve got a later call time tomorrow. Why don’t we switch some things around, I’ll shoot my stuff first?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m probably making a bigger deal out of it than it is. It just feels weird because we spent so much time together before work started back up.”

Jared’s eyes narrowed in speculation as a sudden thought struck, “You’re avoiding her.”

Jensen scoffed and tossed his cup in the garbage, “What did I just say?”

“Nuh huh, I don’t buy it. You are direct to a fault, if you wanted to talk to her, you would. You’re waiting for her to come to you, why?”

“Because I don’t want to push,” Jensen finally admitted. “Obviously, I’ve done something or misread things. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Talking is not going to make it worse. And if you did do something to piss her off, apologize.” Jared waggled his eyebrows, “Turn on that Winchester charm, I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jensen deadpanned.

“We’re switching call times,” Jared retorted. “I can’t take another day of unrequited drama.”

He was in the kitchen when you waltzed in at 7:30 with a duffle bag over your shoulder. The buds were blasting in your ears, so you didn’t hear him say good morning to you three times. When you finally glanced up and saw a figure holding a cup of coffee you let out a scream so loud, they probably heard it in the lobby.

Jensen immediately set down the cup and held up a hand in surrender, “Whoa, easy… hey, it’s just me!”

You rubbed a hand over your racing heart, “Christ on a cracker!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized, while silently chiding himself.

You laughed, knowing you must have looked ridiculous. “No, it’s okay. I thought you were already at work.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a later call time today, so I can have a lazy morning.” He said, taking up his coffee again. “Which means I’ve got time to make a real breakfast, pancakes and everything. You game?”

He gave you a dazzling smile and you nearly melted. No one had a right to look that good first thing in the morning. Perhaps it was not seeing him for days that made it so much more apparent. Already showered and shaved, but still in his track pants and t-shirt. He looked much like he did during the week he spent taking care of you. Suddenly, all you wanted to do was curl up with him on the couch. Spend the day wrapped up in his arms, warm and safe from the uncertainties that kept you up at night.

My GOD he smells good! I wonder if he’s as good at kissing in real life as he is on t.v.? He must be, look at his mouth… and his hands.

“Oh no. No thank you, I’ve got a class at the club.”

“Oh,” he tried to keep the disappointment from his voice. “The health club downstairs?”

You looked down at your running suit that encased your body in navy blue and pink lycra. “Yeah, I’ve been itching to go to the gym. I think I used to quite a bit before the accident. My body’s been missing it.”

Judging by the way that suit hugged your curves, Jensen doubted your body was missing anything. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Actually, I’m taking one of the classes for seniors. I talked with one of the physical therapists down there and he helped me find something low impact.” You laughed a little, “I’m the youngest person by like forty years. Mrs. Hudson keeps trying to set me up with her grandson.”

“Mrs. Hudson?”

“She lives on the fifth floor, has a toy poodle named Mitzi and she is a huge Supernatural fan. Like, obsessed.”

“You don’t say,” he smiled a bit. “She want an autograph?”

“Yeah, but not yours.” You grinned, “Misha’s.”

He rolled his eyes, “Typical.”

“She also offered me a hundred bucks for a sneak peak at the plot for this season. I told her I’d think about it.”

“If she goes up to two hundred let me know, we can split it and go somewhere nice.”

You both laughed softly then fell into an awkward silence.

“Y/N, is everything okay?”

Your reply was quick. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“I know with my schedule and everything, we haven’t had much time to talk. It just seems like there’s something bothering you.”

When you finally looked up with your big, blue eyes, he knew he was right. He saw the uncertainty in your gaze, and it worried him. There was something you weren’t saying. What could he have done to lose your trust?

“Sweetheart, tell me. Is it me? Did I do something or say something to upset you?”

“No, no.” You sighed. The last thing you wanted was to worry him or anyone else. But Jensen was a persistent man, once he caught wind of something, he wouldn’t just let it go. It never occurred to you that he’d blame himself.

“Did something happen on that shopping trip? Did they not have what you needed?”

“No! They were all great, really. Thank you again, it was lovely.”

He gave a slight shake of his head, there was that slightly cool politeness. Rigid and formal. Not like you at all. “I kinda expected you to spend a little more, I mean… are you sure it was okay?”

“I got all the essentials, Jay. I didn’t need anything extravagant.”

“It was supposed to be fun; you know. A treat. Extravagant is part of the package.”

You didn’t reply to that. You knew he would only feel badly if you told him how that trip made you feel dirty. That you were worried that your presence in his life was being misinterpreted by pretty much everyone. That you were worried that deep down, that you were just not worthy of someone like him. Not as you are. Broken.

Jensen knew he couldn’t force you to confide in him. It wasn’t fair to push you just to satisfy his own doubts. “I don’t want you to be late to your class so, maybe I’ll see you later, okay?”

He was letting you off the hook. Giving you a chance to make a hasty escape. If you had a brain in your head, you’d take it. But you couldn’t just ignore the poorly masked hurt in his eyes. Somehow, he got it into his head that this was his fault, and you couldn’t just let him sit with that.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Jay. You’ve been amazing. I just feel like I should be doing something. I want to contribute.”

“All you need to focus on is recovering. Don’t worry about the money thing, I know people get a little weird about it, but it’s not a big deal.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You crossed your arms over your stomach as you leaned against the counter. “I feel this pull to be active, to help people. I don’t know what I used to do for a living or even what I’m good at. I just know I have to try. There must be something I can do to be useful in the world.”

“Y/N, you’ve got a heart the size of Texas. I’m not surprised that you want to help people. And you should follow that feeling, but you gotta walk before you run.”

You gave a small smile, “Why do you think I’m in geriatric aerobics? I still get tired and my stamina is crap. I’m trying to build up my strength. Maybe I’ll stumble upon a forgotten talent.”

“I’m sure you will.” Jensen studied you for a moment, there was still a bit of tension in your posture. Your beautiful eyes were still a little guarded. He was certain there was more to it but decided to drop it for now.

“You should get going, don’t want to be late for class.”

“Yeah,” you picked up the forgotten gym bag and headed for the door. “Hey, um… do you think you’ll have a late night tonight?”

“Actually, I’ve got a light schedule. I’ll probably get out of there at a decent time.”

“Well, maybe we could have supper,” you suggested, chewing on your lower lip. “I saw a Tupperware in the back of the freezer that said Five Alarm.”

Jensen let out low whistle, “Oh, I don’t know Y/N. That’s Grandma Ackles award winning, Five Alarm Chili, it would burn the pants off a little lady like you.”

You scoffed, “If you can take it, I can take it.”

“I’m a Texan. I was born breaking horses and breathing fire.” He laid it on thick, exaggerating his accent. When he added a wink, you turned red.

“Shut up,” you laughed, shaking your head. The man was too cute, and he knew it.

“Alright, alright. I’ll start the crockpot and get the Pepto on standby.”

There was such softness in his green gaze as it flickered over your face. This wasn’t the first time a moment like this stretched out between the two of you. He said so much with those eyes of his, you swore you could feel the caress of them on your soul. Yet, he held back, closing his hands into loose fists at his sides. The warmth in his eyes turned uncertain and in that moment all you wanted to do was reassure him.

Your doubts quieted just long enough for your instincts called the shots. You stepped forward and wrapped him in a tight hug.

Jensen immediately reciprocated, his strong arms coming around you, holding you close. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. This felt right. You felt right. Every time he had you in his arms, he felt something settle in his heart. You felt like home, it was that simple.

“You should get going,” he breathed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t want to worry Mrs. Hudson.”

You felt tingly. Warm and fuzzy, all the way down to the soles of your shoes. No wonder Dean Winchester was so popular, the man portraying him was everything a woman could possibly want. Kind, strong, handsome, and funny. Hard working and generous. You had a long way to go if you were going to be worthy of a man like that. Better get started.

“Yeah, you’re right. See you for dinner?”

“It’s a date.”

You were still floating when you stepped into the elevator. You were no closer to answering the million questions you had about yourself, but you felt more centered. More sure of yourself and your path forward. Jensen always managed to help ground you and settle the doubts buzzing in your brain. That was just part of his magic.

The elevator paused after just a couple of floors, stopping to pick up another passenger. The doors slid open to reveal a small child. A little boy with shiny, black hair and a Buzz Lightyear doll clutched in his arms.

“Hey there,” you smiled, looking around for the adult who must be close by. “Are you lost?”

He didn’t say anything, but his big, brown eyes welled with tears as he hugged his doll even tighter.

You stepped out of the elevator and crouched down to his level. Poor little guy’s terrified.

“Is your mom around? Or your dad?” Getting no answer and seeing no worried parent around you tried another approach. “Do you live on this floor?”

This time he shrugged.

“A lot of these hallways look alike, huh? I get a little lost myself… say, do you know that big, fancy fountain downstairs? The one with the lights and the fish?”

His brown eyes grew wide, and he nodded. Jackpot, kids love those koi fish.

“Well, there is a really nice lady at the desk right by that fountain. She knows everyone in this building and knows where we all live. I bet if we ask her really nice, she will help us out.” You stood and held your hand out to him, “What do you say?”

Keeping Buzz in one arm, he grabbed your hand tightly and rode down to the lobby by your side.

His name was Christopher, and his frantic mother was already at the reception desk. The squirming toddler on her hip squealed and reached out when she saw you walking towards them.

“Mama!” Christopher tugged out of your hand and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him across the lobby.

“Christopher!” The mother dropped to her knees, scooping him up along with his sister. From the muffled, relieved scolding, you pieced together that he’d been playing hide and seek with his sibling and got a little too creative.

“You scared me to death!”

“I’m sorry Mama,” he cried into her shoulder.

You picked up the discarded doll and gave the frazzled mother a smile, “There’s no harm done. We just took a little elevator ride. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Maddy,” she replied. She allowed her children to slide to the floor but kept a hold of their hands. “Thank you so much… I swear these two will be the death of me!”

You looked a little more closely at the pair, they were like a matched set. Same height, same facial features, eye color, hair. One boy and one girl. “Twins?”

“Christopher and Casey. When they turned four, they figured out how to bypass the Netflix password and open any locked door. I think they’re bent on world domination.”

You laughed and noticed the tiny paint splatters in Maddy’s clothes and across her face. She wore old overalls with ripped knees, rolled up at the ankle and a faded bandana keeping her hair up. Her bare feet were paint splattered too, she obviously just ran out of her apartment in a hurry.

Middle of a project. Hyper, bored kids. Single mom?

“Would you like some help?”

Turns out you were right. Madison “Maddy” Montgomery was a single mother of five-year-old twins. Christopher and Casey. Her ex, Jake, was a military man who valued his career more than his wife and kids. He still kept in touch, but really had no interest in raising a family. A year ago, she moved to Vancouver to be closer to her sister and have a fresh start.

“So, what happened to your face? You owe money to the mob?”

“Boating accident,” you replied, loading your roller with paint. “I zigged when I should have zagged.”

Maddy rolled out a heavy drop cloth over the hardwood floors of her dining room. “Rookie mistake. So, what do you do when you’re not wrangling wayward toddlers?”

“Well, today I do this.”

“No kids of your own, huh? What do you do for a living?”

“Ah, well, I’m not really sure.”

“Identity crisis?” Maddy guessed.

You kept your attention on applying paint evenly. Part of you wanted to just gloss over the details of your life, keep the conversation light. After all, it was a pretty strange set of circumstances. Instead, you decided to take a leap of faith and be honest.

“Sort of. Amnesia.”

Maddy paused mid-way through taping off the woodwork. “Whoa, seriously?”

Before you knew it, the whole story came tumbling out. It was such a relief to share it with someone. The aerobics group only knew cursory details about your injuries and physical limitations. Jensen and Jared knew and were great, of course. But this was the first time you actually told someone about it. A perfect stranger, until an hour ago.

“Wow. Y/N, that’s… that’s intense. So, you have no idea who you are. Where you’re from, you’re family. Nothing?”

“No. Not really, just my first name and a couple of random memories.”

“That’s…. wow. That must be terrifying.”

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “Mostly, its frustrating. Thank God for Jensen, he helps keep me from spiraling out of control.”

A look of wide-eyed recognition crossed Maddy’s face. “Wait, Jensen Ackles? Your dashing hero is the super hottie in the penthouse?”

You stole a look over shoulder, “Yes?”

Maddy laughed then, “Girl!”

“Do you know him?” you asked casually.

“Not like you do, obviously,” Maddy teased. “I’ve met him in passing a couple of times, he helped me carry in groceries. Super sweet guy and gorgeous. My sister watches that show of his religiously.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten into it recently myself.”

“You don’t say?”

“Shut up,” you grinned, unable to stop yourself.

“I heard he was back on the market, finally got rid of that ball and chain.”

“He was married?”

“You weren’t kidding about that amnesia, huh?” Maddy took a slender paint brush and started on the edging work. “I only ran into her the once. One of those tight faced, model types, you know. Kinda bitchy, dismissive. I was relived to hear he divorced, a guy like that deserves better.”

Your mind was ticking away. Jensen had never mentioned a wife. Ex or otherwise. With your concussion, you steered clear of computers. Plus, something about looking up information about your friend on the internet seemed sleezy. Mean. Deceitful, even. And Jensen was that, he was your friend. No matter where things went with him, first and most importantly, he was your friend.

“Yeah, he deserves better.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon with Maddy and the kids. By the end of the day the dining room had received two coats of paint and the kids were successfully fed and down for a nap. Casey fussed a bit, but eventually settled. Maddy said both kids had been down with the flu a couple of weeks ago, but Casey hadn’t been able to shake it completely yet.

“It’s par for the parenting course,” the young mother explained. “The doctor says its because of her allergies. Always worse this time of year. Her father was the same way.”

“Poor kiddo,” you murmured. Something tickled at the back of your mind. You couldn’t quite shake it nor bring it to the surface. God, was that ever frustrating! Your only choice was to leave it be until it decided to let you remember it. Pushing yourself would only bring on a migraine.

You exchanged numbers with Maddy as she saw you to the door and promised to help her tackle the kitchen when the time came. That 70’s style linoleum had to go!

You were happier, lighter as you headed back to the apartment. You felt more normal than you had since waking up in the hospital. Today’s activities hadn’t been what you expected, but they were exactly what you needed. You could feel tentative hope blooming that perhaps you weren’t broken after all. There was a part of you that survived the accident after all. You still had the ability to make friends.

A part of you worried that although he said otherwise, Jensen was only interested in spending time with you because he felt guilty. But the afternoon with Maddy and her kids bolstered your confidence and worked to quiet those doubts.

There was a spring in your step by the time you got home. The smell of Grandma Ackles chili had your mouth watering the minute you opened the door. No wonder it was award winning. Your phone buzzed with a text from Jensen saying he’d be home in an hour. That left you just enough time to shower and change out of your rumpled clothes before dinner.

“Looks like someone’s in a good mood,” Jensen said, shrugging out of his leather jacket and tossing it on a one of the bar stools.

There was music flowing from the sound system and the kitchen table was set for two. You were wearing an outfit he had never seen before. A simple, soft sweater in light blue and a dark, denim skirt that hit mid-thigh. Those incredible legs of yours were encased in thermal tights that several of the ladies on set favored. You turned to him with a smile, your long hair was unbound and swung freely around your shoulders as you moved.

“I am in a good mood, had a good day.”

“Yeah?” he asked, as you handed him a beer.

You opened a bottle of water for yourself, “Yeah. It was a great day.”

And so the evening went. Lovely, normal, warm, homey. The two of you exchanged stories of how you spent your days. Jensen was thrilled to hear you’d made a new friend. He could see the difference in your posture, you were hopeful. And your laugh was back.

Sitting there with you, having dinner at the end of the day, fulfilled a fantasy that he’d kept buried deep down. It was so simple; most people took it for granted. It was the feeling of family. He was close to his family growing up, and still was in a lot of ways. But he wanted one of his own. A best friend to go through life with, a partner. Danneel was supposed to be that for him. It looked like it on the surface, but it never felt like it. Never felt like this.

Y/N listened intently as he told her mundane details of his day on set. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as it could be. No fight scenes, no big speeches. Pretty boring from his perspective. His ex-wife certainly would have thought so, but not you. You were fascinated. Maybe it was because you didn’t come from a Hollywood background like Danneel did. You thought it was the most magical thing you’d ever heard. It reminded Jensen of his first trip to a television set. He thought it was magical too. He’d forgotten that until now, and it felt good to be reminded of it. To be reminded of why he fell in love with the film industry to begin with.

The two of you had loaded the dishwasher and moved to the living room to unwind when the doorbell rang, followed by frantic knocking.

Jensen got to his feet and signaled for you to stay put when you went to follow him. It was late and no one ever came to the door without at least texting first. There was a flash of Dean in him at that moment, protective.

He looked through the peephole, then unlocked and opened the door. “Can I help you?”

From your place on the couch, you could hear familiar voices and you were quickly at his side, “Maddy? What’s wrong?”

Your new friend was frantic. Christopher was beside her, hiding behind her legs, while his sister wailed in her mother’s arms. “Y/N, hey I’m sorry to bother you. It’s Casey, her fever spiked, and I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Do you need to go to the E.R.? We’ll give you a ride,” Jensen offered, concern written all over his face.

“No, my sister is on her way. I’m know its short notice, but would you watch Chrissy?” Maddy asked, shifting Casey on her hip. “I have no idea how long this is going to take; I could be there all night and that’s torture on a five-year-old.”

“Yeah, of course,” you were already grabbing your shoes to head up to Maddy’s apartment.

“He can stay with us,” Jensen said without hesitation. “We’ve got it covered, no problem.”

The relief on Maddy’s face was instantaneous. “Really?! Oh, God, thank you so much! I owe you.”

“You don’t owe us anything,” you assured her and held out a hand to Christopher who threw himself into your arms. “Keep us posted, okay?”

“I will, thank you again!”

Jensen closed the door as Maddy disappeared down the hall and you stood with the toddler clinging to you.

“So…. Nintendo?” he suggested.

If you weren’t already completely charmed by Jensen Ackles before, you certainly were now. The man loved kids and it was adorable. He quickly won over the little boy with chocolate milk and his collection of remote-control cars. You had a suspicion that they weren’t meant for rough play, but Jensen didn’t seem to care. In fact, he was having a ball! He set up the living room and foyer as an elaborate racetrack and the three of you stood on the couch in your stocking feet while cars zipped around the floor. The floor, which was lava, of course.

After an hour or so, they moved on to the world of video games, which was housed in Jensen’s bedroom. You let the two of them hash it out, since your head was beginning to ache. Video games had that effect on concussions, so you sat back on the bed and watched with great amusement as Christopher beat Jensen at Mario cart.

After a few minutes, the bright colors and movement made the headache bad enough that you decided to go grab a couple of pain pills. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and a sharp, stabbing pain shot through your skull.

“Oh!” Your hand went to your temple, then it was gone. As suddenly as it had started, the pain left and in its place was a memory. The thought that had been tugging at you all afternoon finally broke through.

You didn’t notice Jensen was by your side until he touched your shoulder. “Y/N? You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed as you processed the new information that had just shaken loose. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just remembered something. I’ll be right back.”

You pulled your phone from your pocket and went out into the hallway, leaving Jensen to keep an eye on your houseguest.

“Y/N?” Maddy answered, her voice slightly muffled by background noise from the hospital. “Is everything okay? Is Christopher alright?”

“He’s fine, I just thought of something. Have you seen the doctor yet?”

“They just took us back to one of the exam rooms now. This place is packed!”

“Okay listen, I noticed something about Casey earlier today, but it didn’t click with me until now. There is a dark ring around the iris of her eye, it’s called a Kayser-Fleischer ring. It’s caused by a buildup of copper deposits.”

Maddy was looking her child over on the other end of the line, after a moment she responded. “Yeah. Yeah, I see it.”

“Tell the doctor to check for Wilson’s disease. It’s a liver disorder. It’s rare, but treatable.”

“Wilson’s disease, got it. How are you so sure about this?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, wishing you’d gotten more than just a flash of a magazine article to go on. “I don’t know. Call it instinct.”

Jensen looked up when you slipped back into the bedroom, “Everything alright?”

You returned to your spot on the bed and Christopher came up to cuddle beside you. You ran your hand over his hair in soothing gesture as your turned over the new information in your mind. You were relived and excited that something useful had broken through. Hopefully, it would help. You remembered that article word for word, if caught early on and monitored closely, people could live quite easily with it. Your gut said that would be the case for Casey.

“I was just checking in with Maddy. They’re fine, just waiting for the doctor.”

He nodded and looked down at the child who was snuggled into your side. Obviously, he had chosen his place to hunker down for the night and Jensen was more than okay with sharing his space. “Good. How about we wind down with a movie?”

“Toy Story,” Christopher piped up.

“Excellent choice,” you agreed.

A couple of hours later, the credits were rolling and the three of you were cuddled together in the center of the massive, king-sized bed. The kid conked out early on and you followed not long after. Jensen didn’t realize he had nodded off himself until the sound of your phone vibrating against the side table jolted him awake. He extracted himself from the cocoon of blankets and pillows and reached over you to grab the phone. You were a heavy sleeper and never even moved when he answered in a hushed tone.

“Maddy?”

“Jensen, hi. Sorry, I know its late.”

“No, it’s okay. Y/N and Chrissy are asleep, but I’m up. How’s Casey?”

“Better,” the young mother breathed, relief clear in her voice. “We’re on our way home now. Y/N was right. I still have to bring Casey back for tests in a few days just to be sure but, Y/N was on the money. The doctor didn’t even want to check, thought I was out of my mind. Thank god she saw it, I never even noticed!”

“Yeah,” Jensen murmured, looking down at your peaceful face. “Thank god.”

“Seriously though, how did she know about that disease? The doctor in the E.R. wasn’t even familiar with it.”

“I don’t know… she’s full of surprises. Listen, Chrissy is pretty comfortable here and you’ve had a hell of a night. Why don’t we keep him over-night and bring him home in the morning?”

“Oh my god, are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”

“It’s no problem, he’s a great kid.”

“It’s official, you are my new favorite neighbor! Thank you, Jensen. Seriously, you’ve been great. And tell Y/N thanks, I’m so grateful I met her today!”

Jensen smiled as he hung up the phone and put it back on the charger. He settled back down into the bed and pulled the covers over the three of you. God, he’d had fun with you and the kid tonight. Until you came into his life, he was never around long enough to get to know any of his neighbors. It felt incredibly good to be a part of the community, even in this small way and he had you to thank for it. Maddy had it right. Grateful was exactly how he felt as he drifted off to sleep. Grateful he’d met you. Grateful you’d stuck around. Grateful you were curled up beside him, even with a child sandwiched in the middle.

The mystery of who you were was slowly unfolding as more fragments of your memories came through. And he was grateful to be at your side, witnessing the slow reveal of the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.