#every time we get together it takes us three hours to cook dinner at a MINIMUM it rules

[dilleater]

saw my gf last night and we made pearl barley risotto style with shell beans, sausage, dandelion greens + arugula and a salad also with dandelion greens, arugula, shiso leaves, kohlrabi, + pod beans with a blueberry vinagrette

[kxnkprxncess]

Dreaming of my perfect day-

I wake up early and put on the outfit my husband picked out the night before. (It’s always some variation of his favorite look- a short lacy dress that barely covers my ass or my tits and a matching collar.) while my husband sleeps in, I begin making our breakfast. He keeps me on a strict diet so while I make up his eggs and bacon, I make myself one of my approved breakfasts of a green smoothie.

Once done, I get to wake my husband up like I do every morning- sucking off his morning wood. I always start lightly so I can have more time with his cock in my mouth. If I take too long, he’ll punish me by thrusting himself down my throat. But this morning I must have been doing a good job because he rewards me by pulling my dress down and fucking my huge tits he paid for. He’s told me that for his next birthday he’s going to get himself even bigger tits to fuck.

When he’s finished with me, he begins to get ready and I begin my chores. Making the bed, laying out his suit, and dusting. I serve him breakfast and tells me what I need to accomplish for the day.

He has an assistant for any of the actually hard stuff he needed to do through the day, tasking me with the chores he does every day like going to the gym, picking up the new clothes he ordered for me from the lingerie shop on the mall, and cooking, all while keeping my phone handy so he can keep track of me during the day. Every few hours he needs me to stop what I’m doing and send him photos or videos of whatever he needs at the moment.

I begin at the gym, my personal trainer really working my thighs and glutes. My husband has told him to really work my ass, he needs it much bigger and as an incentive, my husband lets my trainer use it after each session. He’s worked me so hard over the last three hours I don’t even feel him as he fucks into my hole, my legs shaking the whole time.

Next, at the shop, I try on my new outfits. He gets them custom tailored to fit the extreme proportions he’s crafted for me. It’s getting cooler outside so my husband wants to make sure I stay warm. The newest outfit is a similar small dress but now with a cashmere sweater that was really just sleeves that tie under my tits. My husband wants an update and the tailor is nice enough to take a picture showing it off while his assistant held my tits up from behind, showing how much bigger they’ll be after the surgery. My husband replies immediately that he wants to see more and the assistant happily obliges. She takes my dress down and begins playing with my tits, bringing her mouth down to suck on my nipples. The tailor videos as we make out and rub our huge breasts together.

For dinner, I was told to make extra, my husband has his friends coming over after golf. I serve them and eat my salad in the kitchen until I’m called out for dessert. My husband strips me down and has me lay down on the table so his buddies can grope and eventually fuck me while they discuss things I can’t understand.

To go to sleep, my husband feeds me a handful of pills and fucks me until I pass out.

[cameronspecial]

we all kmow drew loves to read and staying in, let’s make Dad!Drew staying in for the weekend and read to his 2 yo daughter and everything (hanging out, taking cute pics, doing her hair, play house) while reader going out with her friends and she felt a little guilty but he assured her that he loves spending time with their baby, so she should stop worrying.

Me And My Lady

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Suggestion of Sex At The End

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.7K

Masterlist

“You be Ken, Daddy, and I be Chelsea,” Elizabeth orders, handing her father the doll. Most kids are obsessed with the titular character of Barbibe; however, Drew’s daughter loves her Chelsea doll with a passion. He takes it without hesitation, “'Cause I'm just Ken, anywhere else I'd be a ten. Is it my destiny to live and die a life of blonde fragility?” The singing goes over his daughter’s head and she begins the dialogue of the game. He isn’t too sure what exactly is going on; only catching every other word. He does hear cheating and divorce though, so he makes a mental note to ask Y/N if she has been watching Real Housewives with their daughter again. 

Around half an hour later, the young girl complains about being hungry, so the two of them get to cook dinner. He watches as the small hand grips the spatula and waves it back and forward, spreading tomato sauce over the lasagna slices. She accidentally yanks the utensil upward, which causes a splash of red to land on her nose. Drew laughs and Elizabeth goes crossed eyes to try to see what he is laughing at. This makes him laugh even harder and she joins in on the cheery mood. He takes the phone out, letting her put some sauce on his nose and angling the camera at both of them. They make a funny face and he takes multiple pictures. After their small photo shoot, the two of them finish making the lasagna and eat up their reward for their effort. He checks the time to see that it is the little one’s bedtime soon. “It’s bath time,” he announces. Excitement crosses her face because she loves being in the water. He helps her out of the chair and chuckles when she rushes to the bathroom. “Come on, Daddy,” she beckons from the other room. He jogs after her to find her sorting through her toys already, trying to figure out which one she wants to play with. The one thing she hates about bathtime is the three toys limit. 

He steps over the toys and plugs the drain so the tub will fill when he turns the tap on. As the water begins to occupy the hollow porcelain, Drew turns to his daughter and opens the cabinet beside the bath. “Do you want bubbles and what bath bomb do you want?” he questions. She looks up from her toys and examines the choices, “Can I use one of Mommy’s?” The cabinet is filled with bubbles for both Y/N and Elizabeth, but the bath bombs are divided between the two of them. Elizabeth’s are colourful and shaped in different forms, such as cats, unicorns, or dogs, while Y/N’s are more focused on the scents so they are less colourful and just round. Knowing his wife wouldn’t mind sharing, he nods. “Bubbles, please, and that one,” she answers, pointing to the light pink bath bomb that smells of roses. Drew grabs both of the chosen items, “Those are fine choices, My Lady.” Elizabeth giggles at the funny accent he uses and accepts the round object he hands her, dropping it into the tub when he instructs her to. 

Once the bubbles are in and the water is at an appropriate height, he helps her undress and sets her into the tub. He hands her the duck, the mermaid, and the boat she chose to play with, accepting the mermaid she gave him. “And we can swim all night together,” she recounts. The duck slaps against the water under the grip of the daughter. The force produces a large splash that hits her father in the face. His face scrunches as the water makes contact and drips to his neck. “Hahaha,” she yells. Drew fakes an angry look, “Grrr. You think that’s funny, Little Lady?” He dips his hand in the water and flicks some at his daughter. Her giggles intensify and she tries to get away from the attack. The warmth soon leaves her, creating a shiver in her. Upon seeing this, the father grabs the ducky hood towel from the hook and takes her out of the tub. He wraps it around her and runs his hands up and down her arms to create some heat. The floor is soaked because of their playing, so he takes a second to dry it with the floor towel. 

With the floor clean, he carries her to her room and they get her changed into her pyjamas. He runs the towel over her hair to get out as much moisture as he can. He takes the brush she hands him and runs it through her hair to get rid of the knots created in the bath. “Do we want one braid or two?” he confirms. She hmms for a little, “Two Fwench braids, please.” He divides her hair into two and then separates one of the sections into three. He begins weaving the strands together like his wife taught him and sings with his daughter whilst she waits for him to finish. 

“There you go, My Lady. Why don’t you go choose a bedtime story?” he encourages, watching her run to her bookcase. She spends about a minute looking at her options before choosing a book he knows she is going to pick because it has been her choice for a few nights now. She patters back to him and he helps her onto her big girl bed. Her head rests against his shoulder. He pretends he doesn’t see her thumb in her mouth even though Y/N would kill him for not stopping it. He thumbs through the book to find where they stopped last night and clears his throat to start reading. “To be, or not to be, that is the question.” The English major side of him loves that his daughter likes to read Shakespeare. He is sure she doesn’t understand anything he reads, yet he knows she enjoys it because she is always so attentive and she’ll ask what certain words will mean. Drew looks past the inappropriate subject matter of Hamlet for the two-year-old because it feels like a bonding experience for him. It is one of the reasons why he isn’t angry at Y/N for watching Real Housewives with Elizabeth. 

Ten minutes later, he fills her head relax as it digs into his muscles. He closes the book and kisses her forehead. His hand raises the blanket to her chin, turning on the night light. “I love you, My Lady,” he whispers. 

———

Drew is reading through Othello because he thinks it is what he and Elizabeth should read after Hamlet. She’ll like the witches’ scene. He hears the front door open and close. He shuts the book, placing it on the side table as his wife walks through the bedroom door. “Hey, did she go down to sleep okay?” she mumbles. Her back is facing him whilst she takes off her jewellery and places them on her vanity. His head bobs and he gets behind her. He hands her a makeup wipe, resting his chin on her shoulder. He observes her nighttime routine through the mirror. His lips press against her skin, “Yep, everything went by smoothly. We are almost done with Act Three for Hamlet. I’m thinking about reading Othello with her next. How was the club?” She hesitates about answering. Y/N honestly had an amazing time tonight. It felt so great not having to worry about another human being for an evening. She loves Elizabeth, except being a mom can create a lot of pressure. Even though the night was a success, guilt overcomes her when she meets her husband’s eyes in the mirror. Drew hasn’t gone out at night with friends since he got back from work and she has been out three times. “It was fine,” she plays off, wiping her makeup off with the wipes he provided for her.

His brow arches at her tone, “Really, only fine? I saw Layton’s story. You looked like you were having a blast.” Her eyes fall to the vanity. “It must have been a trick of the light,” she shrugs. She goes for another wipe, except veiny hands stop her. He takes her hand in his and spins her so they face each other. Warm hands cup her cheek. “What’s wrong, My Queen? Why so glum?” he worries, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. 

Her breath tickles his skin as she exhales, “Do you hate that I make you stay at home with Elizabeth when I go out?” His head shakes like an earthquake and he brings her in for a hug. He can feel the guilt oozing out of her. “No, of course not. I love Elizabeth. Why would I hate it?”

“I’m not saying that you hate her. I just wonder if you resent me for going out with the girls, which means you have sole parent duties for a night. You haven’t had a night out since she was born. I mean you go out, but never by yourself so that I have sole parent duties.” 

“You have sole duties when I work.”

“That’s different though. Just because you love your job doesn’t mean it is a personal outing for pleasure.”

“True.” 

She looks back at him with a pout, his last words intensifying her emotions. “Please don’t feel bad about this. I may not go out anymore, but I never used to go out that much before anyways, right?” he reminds her. She thinks about it, realizing that it is true. Whenever he went out, it was always with her by his side. She meets his gaze, “You are saying that to make me feel better.” His head moves from side to side. “No. I love having nights with me and My Lady. I mean they are perfect when it is me, My Lady, and My Queen, but if I can give you a much-needed break, then I am more than happy to help you with that. If anything, Elizabeth is my excuse to stay in.” A grin starts to grow on his face when he sees the tips of her lips flip upwards. “Well, I’m glad I made you the perfect excuse,” she jokes. His laugh joins her lightened mood, “You made me the best excuse. Maybe we should start working on another one. You know, to solidify our excuse.” His eyebrows waggle and she pulls him into a kiss with a smirk. Their giggles mix in the air as he locks their bedroom door and she flops onto their bed. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 10

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 6520

Story Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Chapter Summary: Y/n visits Vancouver to see Jensen and, more importantly, to try to win Jared over.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Warnings: Always language. Grumpy Jared. After dinner, well, it gets NSFW 🌶️🌶️, 18+ Only

Although this is an RPF, these are fabricated characters and should not reflect back IRL. I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as a coping skill. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

----

The black Escalade wove through the Vancouver traffic, the sun beating down, melting the piles of slushy remnants from the first snow. What should have been an eagerly anticipated moment for your arrival was tense. Behind the wheel, Jensen was trying to be the bridge between you and his best friend.

“Lighten up, man. Y/n’s really excited to be out here again and wants nothing more than to hang out and cook us a nice meal.” Jensen pleaded your case.

He, in fact, suggested pizza on the risk of jetlag, but you had insisted, falling back onto the age-old idiom ‘the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.’ You already had one of their hearts, and you were convinced you could make Jared warm up to you, too, if only he saw you as who you were and not as a clingy fangirl. Yet you felt that rift growing every time you saw him. And the last thing you wanted was for Jensen to be caught in the middle.

“Would you try to like her? For me? Please.” Jensen nearly begged when Jared didn’t respond.

At least he was in the car, though Jensen didn’t give him a choice, with this outing as a pretense of drinks after work.

Jensen tried one more time, fed up with Jared’s stubbornness. “At least act nice.”

That got his attention. “Act nice? I’ll play nice if she does.” The accusation hanging heaving.

Jensen furrowed his brow. “Y/n doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.” Okay, you had a bit of a temper, were known to hold a grudge, and had a smart mouth, but Jared didn’t need to know that.

Jared scoffed. “Last time she came out, she literally laughed and criticized me for overacting.”

Jensen’s confusion grew, trying to remember the last time you came out. Then, the realization hit him as the three of you watched the latest episode together in another futile attempt for Jensen to foster peace.

Despite the animosity, Jensen couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, she laughed at a scene and apologized immediately, saying it was hard to take the show seriously now that she knows us. And I said that wasn’t it; it’s probably because you took your acting lessons from Bruce Campbell." His tongue peeked out between his teeth as he attempted and failed to control another giggle, still quite proud of the slight.

“It was a serious scene. I was acting my heart out.” Jared stressed. “You had just gotten back from hell.”

Jensen lost the smile. “In her defense, it does lose its impactfulness after the 17th time.”

“Whatever, man.” Jared pouted, looking out the window.

Jensen rolled his eyes and prayed to any god that would listen. “Would it make you feel better if we watch Devour together after dinner? Then we’ll just laugh at me.”

Jared said nothing, not taking the bait. The clicking of the blinker filled the silence as Jensen waited to turn toward the arrival gates. Jared ran his fingers through his hair as Jensen pursed his lips together, trying to think of something, anything. The light turned green.

“I don’t even know why I am here. Y/n has, like, what, two full days out here? You should be spending it together without having to worry about me third-wheeling. I’m sure there are other things that you would prefer to occupy time you don’t get over Zoom.” Jared rambled out loud.

Jensen’s eyes tightly blinked shut momentarily as he began seeking out an open spot at the curb. Jared was right, of course, only on account of his last thought, but he wouldn’t be at peace until he had the blessing of his best friend. Jensen inhaled through his nose, held his breath, and released through his mouth.

“It is important to me that you and Y/n find some common ground. If you gave her even the slightest chance, I’m positive you would start to like her.” He said calmly as he put the car into park.

“Why does it matter so much to you if I like her?” Jared pushed. To him, you were still only a rebound after Elena.

And then it hit him. Maybe Jared’s denial of his true fear of being replaced had come true.

“Because she’s my best friend and I love her!” He declared and then laughed through the shock.

It was the first time he had admitted it out loud. The silence was palpable as both men processed the weight of the words. Jensen wasn’t one to open up lightly. He felt deeply, but he was always careful with those emotions, cautious even. It had taken nearly two years before he said the same to Elena. Another before they started looking at rings. Maybe because it was one of the first serious relationships he had since the start of his career. The depth and commitment he had felt with her made the falling out that much more disastrous. He had fortified his walls to be higher and more impenetrable. Then you came out of nowhere and shattered everything he thought he knew about himself. He felt like a caged bird learning for the first time how to spread its wings, to feel the breeze on its face, and the warmth of the sun. With you, he felt free.

Jared’s eyes darted back and forth as if reading his thoughts, finding the right response. Jensen squeezed the steering wheel and nodded his head. “I love her.” He said again, the realization hitting him, fully knowing it was true. But then the terror of the statement hit him. The car door shuttered open, and the catapult of a backpack rolling over the seatbench crashing at the other end pulled Jared from his thoughts as you entered the car.

“Hiya!” You squeaked.

You pulled the door close with a thud and clicked on your seatbelt. You cleared your throat, looking up, momentarily afraid you jumped in the wrong car. But it was Jensen and Jared, alright. Jensen stared directly ahead, his face as white as if seeing a ghost. Jared scrutinized his friend. You sank back in your seat. You had thrown yourself directly into something.

Jared turned in his seat, blinking rapidly and addressing you in the most amiable tone he had ever taken with you. “Hi Y/n. Um, would you mind giving us a minute?”

Oh, you had definitely walked into something. It took you a minute to process this, but then you began fumbling with the seatbelt, “Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” And vacated the Escalade as fast as possible.

Jared’s brow furrowed, and he leaned closer to a whisper as you aimlessly knocked your fists together outside on the sidewalk. “You love her?”

He chuckled again and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I really do.”

Jared knew he should be happy for Jensen, knew they should be celebrating this, offering congratulations, but all he felt was dread.

“Have you told her?” Jared asked.

“Nah, you’re the first to know.” Jensen clapped Jared on the shoulder. “I want the moment to be right, you know. I want to be able to remember it for a long time.”

Jared thought about faking it, but he had to be real with Jensen. “You don’t know her.”

That set him off. “Why are you so set against her? Why can’t you be happy for me? I do know her. I’ve known her for seven months, been dating her for 4 of those, and talk to her almost daily.” His voice went up an octave higher. “I don’t know why I have to keep justifying my choices to you, man? When will it ever be good enough for you?”

Jared didn’t take the bait. “But you don’t know her. How can you truly? You haven’t met her friends or her family, and it sounds like her mom is a real piece of work. Are you ready to deal with that?”

Outside the car, airport security approached you. Both boys could tell from your over-exaggerated gestures that you were attempting to buy them more time.

Jared continued. “And no offense, but she isn’t spotlight material.”

“Fuck you.” Jensen's blood boiled over. He was about to leave the car to find another way to get back into the city. At that moment, he never wanted to see Jared again.

“Come on. Give me a break. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Though he kind of did. “All I’m saying is that if you truly are that committed to her, that this isn’t some fling, you should think about preparing her for the kind of attention it will warrant. The good, the bad, and the ugly. That kind of stress and attention can ruin a person.”

Jensen didn’t respond but wrung his hands on the steering wheel. There was a knock on the window.

“Please, know I’m just trying to look out for you,” Jared whispered as he began rolling down the window.

“Nobody asked you to.” Jensen snipped back before the security guard started to chew them out.

As the boys were on the receiving end of a very stern lecture, you slipped as quietly as possible into the back seat to avoid further angering or endangering yourself with security. Yes, spending a night in jail was on your bucket list, but this is not what you had in mind.

“Sorry, officer,” Jensen ended a profuse apology before hightailing it out of there.

You weren’t sure exactly what you missed, but the air hung thick with tension. Nobody spoke. There was only the hum of tires on the road. It hit you that Jensen never even acknowledged you. You fiddled with a loose stitch on the seat in front of you.

After five minutes and starting to get out of airport traffic, you couldn’t handle it anymore. “So…” You drew the word out, unsure how to break into a conversation.

Jensen blinked, realizing you had no reason to be as upset as him and that it was unfair to suffer from their drama, especially when you were not privy to it.

He cleared his throat. “I got the groceries you requested delivered.” However, he didn’t know how the three of you would sit through a dinner together.

“Oh, good! I’m starving. Airport food never really hits the spot, but the Cajun snack mix does kinda slap.” You rambled, trying for anything to get them talking.

They both hmmed in response. You were about to ask them about their favorite airport snack, but thank the gods, it was Jared who surprisingly saved you.

“What’s for dinner then?” He was trying. He had fucked up. He knew it. This was how he could try to make amends with Jensen.

You beamed, having perfectly planned it out, trying to finally win Jared over to your side. “We’ll start with a strawberry, basil, and balsamic whipped burrata and roasted bone marrow. Then, a small lemon watercress-radicchio salad for a palate cleanser before moving on to a butter-basted ribeye accompanied by potatoes au gratin and crispy brussel sprouts with mustard seeds and pomegranate.”

Jared’s stomach rumbled. Goddammit, that sounded good.

“And, I was considering a dessert, but Jensen said I already had enough going on, and because baking isn’t my strong suit, I let him handle the rest.” You explained. “You did handle the rest, didn’t you?”

Jensen's anger melted a little. With a smirk, he said, “Yeah, a tub of vanilla ice cream.”

Your heart dropped. “Stop.” There was a glint of teasing in his eyes as he looked at you through the rearview mirror, but the rest of his face remained deadpan. You couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “Okay, I guess I could repropose what I had in mind for the burrata, and if you have sugar on hand and something salty and crunchy, we could do a quick brittle. Oooh, maybe the cajun snack mix. Or perhaps…”

“Y/n! I’m messing with you. I have an assortment ordered from Thomas Haas.” He winked at you in the mirror.

Thomas Haas meant little to you, but anything would be better than a tub of ice cream. Okay, a tub of ice cream had its time and place, but not when you were working so hard to impress Jared. Still, you eyed Jensen skeptically, unsure if it would measure up.

“Some of the best in Vancouver,” Jared assured. “I’m sure it will compliment your dinner perfectly. I can’t wait. It all sounds very delicious.”

“Hmm.” You looked between the two of them.

There were still too many questions unanswered. What were they talking about before you arrived? Could you trust either of them to select a quality dessert or would you have to resort to brittle anyways? Were you now on a no-fly list due to the tiff with the security guard? When could you get Jensen alone (this stern look painted on his face was doing things you couldn’t control)? But most importantly, why was Jared acting so nice?

“I’ve had bone marrow before, but only in restaurants,” Jared continued. “I didn’t realize it could be done at home.”

“Oh yeah, it’s actually super simple if you can find a good butcher.” You explained.

Jensen interjected. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s been binging The Bear, and now her only goal is to become an Iron Chef.”

You smirked, impressed he even knew what an Iron Chef was. Aside from eating food, anything kitchen-related was the furthest on his interest list. You were rubbing off on him.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “It’s the easiest cheat code appetizer if you want to impress someone. You toast some bread, toss the marrow in the oven for twenty minutes, and add a few accouterments to a serving board. And bam, done.”

Jared laughed, actually laughed. “I’m sure you are underselling yourself. From what Jensen has told me, you are an excellent cook. I can’t wait to see it all come together.”

Jensen glared at Jared out of the side of his eye, the anger resurfacing. He was laying it on thick. Too thick.

You squinted, eyes darting back and forth between them. This wasn’t going to plan. You were supposed to cook the food and then become BFFs with Jared. This was happening too quickly. But perhaps you should take it for what it was. Maybe you had stuck around long enough for him to finally accept you. Or Jensen had talked you up enough. Whatever the reason, you had to stop ruminating on it. All you had to do was get through dinner. Perhaps after, you could corner Jensen into an explanation.

It wasn’t long until you pulled into the parking garage adjoined to the condos. Jensen popped the trunk, surprised to find it empty.

“Where’s your luggage?” He asked, oblivious as his conversation with Jared required most of his mental capacity.

You held up your backpack as a response, and his brow furrowed with confusion.

“What’s wrong? Are you ill?” He pestered, placing the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Shut up.” You snipped and then explained. “I’m practicing becoming a lighter packer.” You lowered your voice to a whisper. “Besides, I recall not needing much clothing last visit.”

Jensen raised his eyebrows, reminiscing, and then nuzzled his nose into your neck in anticipation of this weekend. Jared, having overheard, rolled his eyes and fought a gag. You laughed as Jensen pulled away, his eyelashes tickling your cheeks. And Jared plastered on his fake smile yet again.

“Let’s get upstairs,” He said. “I’m starving.”

-----

Dinner was coming along nicely. You were basting the last of the steaks in butter, and the boys were watching the end of a game in the living room. The thoroughly cleaned plates on the coffee table were the only lingering evidence that there had been appetizers. You snuck a bit here and there, but it was mostly to keep the two of them from sniffing around the kitchen.

With a final splash of liquid, the steak was done—perfect caramelization and crust. Now, the potatoes. You checked the timer—ten minutes, enough time for the steak to rest. And the Brussels? Shit. You scooped the last of them out of the oil in the nick of time. You generously salted them and would add the pomegranate molasses after plating. Satisfied with how it was all wrapping up, you whipped Jensen’s once pristinely white dish towel over your shoulder. There was a shuffling behind you as you began cleaning what you could.

“Need any help?” Jensen asked.

You were about to shoo him out when you heard the scrape of a knife. You snapped your head around to catch him red-handed. He stared at you like a deer in the headlights, the end of one steak pinched between his fingers and the knife hovering millimeters above. You scowled, and Jensen slowly set the knife down, held his hands in surrender, and backed up.

Your scowl melted into a smile. “A couple of minutes longer. If you’d like to help, you can set the table.”

He straightened. “Yes, chef.”

You playfully stuck out your tongue and whipped the dish towel in his direction, earning an exaggerated yelp.

Finally, after a few minutes passed, you brought the final plate to the table and scooched in. Jensen didn’t hesitate and dove in.

With a full mouth, he mumbled, “If this tastes as good as it…” Then it hit him, and his eyes rolled back in pure delight. “Oh god.”

Jared went in a little slower, cutting his steak and bringing it past his lips. He took several testing bites and paused, glaring at you. He was actually glaring at you. Dropping the act, he’d kept up all night, pissed at how good it tasted. He knew what tonight had been about. About you trying to butter him up, quite literally with butter braised steak. And god dammit. It was a good steak. And he was mad about it.

“Fuck.” Jared cursed aloud, snapping your and Jensen’s attention to him. “Fuck, that’s good.”

You smiled sheepishly, looking down at your plate. “I can’t say I’ve had that reaction before. Not quite as orgasmic as I was hoping for, maybe if I adjusted the…” Your face went pale, realizing the last part was out loud.

Jensen snorted, and Jared even cracked a smirk.

“So, um,” You attempted a recovery. “How was work this week?”

A few minutes of silence passed as Jensen gave Jared a chance to answer. When he didn't and caught him glaring again, Jensen kicked his shin under the table, prompting him further.

Jared grunted. “Well, hours weren't as shitty as usual.”

“Cause Collins hasn't been around.” Jensen teasingly interjected.

Jared chuckled. “Yeah, not as many retakes. Finally, it feels like we're making some progress this season.”

You nodded. The three of you looked back and forth, trying to gauge whether it was appropriate to continue the conversation or return to eating.

“What about you?” Jared coughed before going in for another bite.

“Same old.” You simply stated.

Silverware scraped against plates. A clock ticked in the living room. The sounds of the city rose from the streets. You dabbed the corner of your mouth with the black cloth napkin, then considered it. You’d be willing to bet good money this was the first time Jensen ever pulled them out.

Jensen tried again to spark the conversation again. “Should we talk Vegas?”

Your eyes lit up excitedly, ready to discuss a plan and details.

“So, about that,” Jared started. Jensen didn’t hide his scowl, but Jared's eyes widened, challenging him. “It’s not often we get that kind of time off work, and I’m going to meet Gen in Austin.”

Ah, so dinner wasn’t the wondrous miracle you hoped it would be. You cursed yourself for not trying a Wellington. Jensen reached under the table to graze your thigh, trying to communicate that this had nothing to do with you.

“Why doesn’t she join us?” Jensen shrewdly offered.

Jared’s lips formed a thin line before countering. “Actually, we are going to use the time to do some house hunting.” He hesitated for a minute. “We’ve started talking about, um, the next steps in starting our family.”

Kids? Oh god, Jensen was going to be an uncle. He was already an uncle to Harper’s clan, but this was Jared. All the tension momentarily evaporated as you both offered your excitement and congratulations.

“Yeah, our current setup isn’t going to cut it. We need more space, a yard.” Jared explained. “Y/n, are you interested in kids?”

Jensen choked on the last piece of steak, recovering with a swig of wine. The temporary peace was broken yet again.

“Oh, um.” You stammered, trying to think of a response. Every couple (that was serious, that is) had to come across this question. You just didn’t picture you were there yet with Jensen. And you didn’t picture the conversation would come about this way. “Well, I’ve recently only managed to keep a house plant alive, so maybe the next step is like a cat or something before moving onto a…” You gulped. “A child.”

“Hmm. So you haven’t given it much thought?” He clarified.

“I mean,” Heat was rising to your cheeks. “It might not be my first choice, looking after a little drooling, monstrous carbon copy. Don’t get me wrong, I love being Aunt Y/n to my niece but one of my own. It’s a lot of responsibility and sacrifice and time and money… I don’t know. There’s a lot of benefits, too, I’m sure. You and Gen will be fantastic parents!”

“Interesting.” Jared ignored your last comment. “Wasn’t it in Colorado that you said you’d have Jensen’s babies? Or maybe that’s changed after you got to know him more.” He chuckled a bit, trying to conceal it as a joke.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Jensen attempted to shut this down.

“No, I never actually said that.” You talked over him and defended yourself. “Casey, a fan, although more than well-meaning, took several liberties that day. A decision that big should require careful consideration rather than something silly like initial attraction or blind devotion, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” he responded sincerely. “Such as your partner’s thoughts on the issue. Gen and I knew immediately that growing our family was an intention for our relationship. Jensen, you’ve always wanted kids, haven’t you?”

If looks could kill, Jared would currently be en route to the nearest morgue. But then he caught a glance at your wide, curious eyes awaiting an answer. There’s no way he would lie about this. Yet, this was the first time the subject of the long-term future had been broached. He swallowed the lump in his throat with another dose of wine, then threw his napkin on his plate.

“I have always seen my future with one or two kiddos running around.” He spoke softly and slowly. “But if my partner wasn’t on board, there’s no way I’d force that upon them. The two of us would always come first.”

Jared raised his eyebrows and nodded, staying silent as he finished his last bite.

You filled the silence instead, unable to handle the pause in conversation. “Similarly, I would never want to deny my future partner if that was something that was really important to them.”

Jensen closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. This wasn’t a relationship-ending kind of conversation. You did share common ground. And it was each other.

“That seems like a lot of sacrifice.” Jared circled back to the earlier point.

“But what is love?” You asked back.

Jensen whined a high-pitched melody under his breath, “Baby, don’t hurt me,” so over this conversation.

But Jared and you were beyond dialed in.

“You want to define that here, tonight?” Jared pushed. “Scholars, philosophers, religions; they’ve been trying to do that since the dawn of humanity.”

“Many of which have brought it back to sacrifice.”

“And many of which have used that ideal to perpetuate cycles of horrendous abuse.”

You pushed your plate aside, needing the space to talk with your hands. “I’m not denying that. But if you are talking on an individual level about two people in love outside of an institution, there are many components, but sacrifice is usually one of them.”

“So you’re arguing you shouldn’t be happy for the sake of the other person?”

“I’m arguing,” You strained. “Both people in the relationship sacrifice for each other, and not only are they happy to do so, but it is a privilege. You lift each other up and balance the other, and there is a net gain rather than elevating one over the other, becoming nothing more than a mere doormat. Trust me, I’ve been around enough narcissists to understand that never ends well.”

“So that’s your conclusion: love is sacrifice?” Jared asked.

Was he trying to trap you? “Like I said, it’s a component. But at the end of the day, I’d say love is a choice. There’s those initial feelings of lust and excitement and newness that will eventually fade away. And you’ll get on each other’s nerves, and there’ll be tears and fighting, and hell, we all get old, and gravity always wins. There’ll be moments where you have to choose. In fact, there’ll probably be moments where you choose not to. At the end of the day, I’d like to end up with someone who is my best friend above all else because you’ll have that to fall back on when it's hard to love.”

Jared didn’t say it contradictory but as a compliment to your point. “Friendship is its own kind of love.” He looked to Jensen apologetically.

“Very true.” You agreed. “What do you think, Jensen?”

Jensen sighed and shook his head. He stood up to start clearing the table. “It’s a mystery. Sometimes love is just love.”

You began stacking the dishes, bringing them to the kitchen as well. “It defies explanation, logic even.” You added.

Jared grabbed the bottle of wine, refilled glasses, and brought the fresh pour to you. “And definition. It’s the ultimate expression of humanity, isn’t it? To wrestle with complex concepts.”

You chuckled, taking a sip. “I guess that’s based on how you define humanity.”

Jared leaned against the counter. “Well…”

Jensen snapped up from putting plates in the dishwasher. “How about a movie?”

Jared lost his train of thought. “I have kind of been in the mood for The Matrix.”

You beamed. Perhaps this disaster of a night wasn’t ruined after all. It would be the perfect opportunity to bring up simulation theory with Jared. From what Jensen told you, Jared loved debating and theorizing over abstract topics. It would be the perfect foot in. Maybe you could impress him after all.

Jensen caught the mischievous look in your eye. He shook his head. “Don’t…”

But you beat him to it. “That sounds perfect!”

---

Later that night, hours after discussing perceived reality, you hovered over the kitchen sink, scrubbing down the remaining mess. Jared was long gone but thanked you for a pleasant evening. Jensen came up behind you, stripped down to his undershirt and briefs. He pulled your waist to his, wrapping his grasp around your hips, and nuzzled closer.

“Come to bed.” He whispered into your neck.

You half-moaned, leaning into his touch. “I just have a few more.”

“That’s what the dishwasher is for.” He said.

You paused and stiffened. “And ruin the finish on this cast iron? You monster.” Jensen gave a light chuckle before closing his eyes against your skin as you continued. “How do you think tonight went?”

He sighed, chewing it over.

“I know.” You agreed. “I should have done the Wellington.” That earned you a pinch to the side. You yelped. “Not when I’m washing the knives!”

“Honestly,” Jensen started. “I don’t know what to think.”

You took a deep gulp and turned off the faucet before turning to face him. You searched his eyes and ran your pruned thumb against his cheek.

“I don’t want to come between you two.” You strained.

He took your hand and his and glided your knuckles across his lips.

“You’re not.” He whispered.

Your glare pierced him.

Jensen continued. “He’s coming around, albeit slowly.” He added as your gaze held, “I promise.”

Your breath released, and the tension left your body, too tired to challenge him further.

“Come on, off to bed.” He instructed.

But you turned around and yawned, “Only a few more.”

Suddenly, you were swooped up and being carried away from the kitchen. “The rest can wait.”

You hit the mattress, immediately sinking into the plush duvet and feathered pillows. Jensen followed, his warmth and weight wrapping around you. The day's weight full of travel, cooking, cleaning, debating, and worrying all hit you instantly. You closed your eyes, darkness quickly closing in. Yet you couldn’t ignore the lips peppering slow, soft kisses at the edge of your navel.

“Mmmm. Jensen, I’m tired.” You moaned over the response your body had to his touch. His fingers danced along the hem of your shirt, trailing higher. Between kisses, he breathed. “You won’t have to do a thing.”

You popped an eye open and raised an eyebrow, looking down at him through the darkness. The city lights illuminated his features. There was a feral glow in his eyes, waiting for that sweet, sweet permission he longed to hear.

“Are you proposing to use me?” You questioned, rubbing your thighs tighter, seeking pressure to alleviate the quickly growing need.

And he knew it, too. A smirk that would impress even the devil crossed his lips. “That depends,” He brought his hand from your ribs, prying your thighs apart, and you whined in response. “Would you like to be used?”

You nodded even though you could barely keep your eyes open, “Very much.”

He made quick work of your clothing, your lazy attempts to help only impeding the process. The cold air of the condo brushed over your skin, providing temporary alertness as your hair rose and you shivered in response. His hands roamed over you, chasing away the chill, replacing the sharpness with tenderness.

Even as you wrestled sleep from taking you, eyes fluttering close, you could feel his eyes on you. From day one, he made it his mission to study you; taking note of every sharp inhale, every squirm, every crease of the brow. He had been a quick and eager student. His hand gently encouraged your legs apart, his hand roving over your core, parting your very soul as he found his mark. Satisfied, his eyes closed, and his head rested against your chest as he let instinct take over.

Dancing on the edge of sleep yet pulled to the waking world by pleasure, your brain couldn’t comprehend thoughts. The worries of the day, the countless insecurities, the what-ifs, they all melted from your mind. The only thing you knew was touch. It was the only constant. The concept of time faded, and at some point unbeknownst to you, fingers had been replaced with lips.

Incoherent words praised his practiced tongue as thoughts attempted and failed to form meaning. Your hand wound through his hair, gripping to hold him in place as you rocked your hips forward. His arms hooked under your legs, lifting you higher, spreading you farther as he lost his need for air. His only purpose in consuming you.

“Jensen.” You mewled his name as a curse. “Please. God, please.”

Teeth scraped against soft flesh, sending you soaring off that endless cliff. You cried out, a slew of fractured speech. Jensen idly continued as you floated back down to reality. Only as breath returned, hungry for air, did he stop, attempting to catch some himself.

“Turn over,” He instructed through the shallow pants. “On your knees.”

You whined, rubbing your face with your palm. “You said I wouldn’t have to do anything.”

He nipped at your inner thigh. “Brat.”

You lazily smiled until he grabbed your sides and flipped you over himself. That woke you up, but only momentarily as he shuffled behind you, allowing you a minute to bury your head deeper into the pillow.

“Oh, I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

An arm snaked under your diaphragm, and you lost your breath as he pulled you up to a kneel, pinning you against his bare, hard flesh. His hands roamed your curves, already mapped in his mind, desperate to bring to fruition what he had imaged during the month apart. A hand came to your throat, gently squeezing, as he tilted it to the side.

“Color?” He cooed into your ear.

You only moaned, too tired for words, grinding your hips back into him, hoping it would prompt this process further along.

“Use your words.” He softly demanded.

“Green.” You placed a hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder. “So fucking green.”

He buried his mouth into the crook of your neck, claiming you, possessing you, undoing you. But two could play this game. With your free hand, you reached behind you, immediately claiming your prize. You stroked up and down his length, stopping at the apex and rolling your grasp.

“Fuck.” He indulged temporarily before taking your hand, guiding it to the top of the headboard.

Your other hand followed suit as he gripped your hips. You arched your back and swayed side to side, inviting him in or, at the very least, enticing him to hurry.

“Patience has never been your strong suit.” He playfully scolded.

As he knocked your knee with his own, spreading you apart further and lower, he bent down, planting long, deliberate kisses on the small of your back. Your eyes fluttered close yet again, your mind at war with your body, demanding sleep. He neared your entrance, testing at first, then surged forward, completely filling you. You cried out, sparks turning to flame as he flooded you. Over and over, he built pace, seeking his own high.

It was unlike anything you had ever known. Nothing existed outside of this claiming rhythm, outside of this mounting heat, outside of this ecstasy. Your mind was blank. Your mind was numb. He was the only thing you had ever known—the only thing you were created for.

His hand gripped your shoulder, arching you deeper, pulling you more flush against his hardness, hitting the deepest parts of you. Your curses and praise garbled together, moans became mute, and blinding pressure rose, threatening to break.

“Come on, Y/n,” Jensen said through ragged pants. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

“Jensen.” You cried, tears spilling over. “I can’t, I’m so tired.”

His grip left your shoulder and joined yours on the headboard, intertwining his fingers with yours as he drove into you over and over and over.

“Yes, you can.” He encouraged. “Tell me where.”

He adjusted, giving you time to assess the effectiveness.

And then, suddenly, “Ah, right there. Fuck, don’t fucking stop.” You squeezed your eyes shut.

He did as he was told, gritting his teeth together, fingers digging into your flesh as he held on. He waited and waited until he felt you close in around him, constricting, demanding he fall off that cliff with you into the deep pool of bright light. Your hands slid from the headboard as you collapsed back onto the mattress. Jensen fell with you, his weight trapping you.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. But eventually, you found your way to the surface again, taking a deep, shuttering breath. Jensen rolled off you onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, breathing in and out, in and out. Sweat outlined his sculpted frame as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. When his heart finally settled, his eyes found yours, and he pulled you close.

You were no longer aware if you were sleeping or awake, but still, you said. “I think it is safe to say we can move ‘exhausted sex’ from the maybe category to any fucking time or day.”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “Thank you.”

You groaned. “Oh please, let’s not start that again.”

“Fair.” He agreed and thought of something else to say. “You’ve ruined me.”

“I’ve ruined you?” You corrected. “Sir. You’ve gone and rendered the entirety of the male species inconsequential.”

“Okay,” He challenged, rubbing his eyes. “You can’t be that tired if you can spin that heap of bullcrap.”

You burrowed into the crook of his arm and closed your eyes before mumbling, “It's not bullcrap. You’ve ruined me too.”

His eyes darted back and forth in the darkness, contemplating everything you had said about love and god, even children. He looked back at you. Your breath had slowed and evened out. And he knew his epiphany remained true. His love for you was beyond his initial attraction, curiosity, or, frankly, his blue balls. He’d give it all up if you asked, find some office job, become a cat dad. And then it hit him why, and he chuckled, saving that thought for another day because now sleep was threatening him too, and he might not be thinking rationally.

He kissed your hair and whispered, testing it out loud. “I love you.” A cold, electric shiver ran throughout his being.

He froze as you stirred. “Hmm?”

He chuckled. “What would you think about going public?”

You shot up, fully conscious. Fully alert. Your brow furrowed, trying to comprehend.

“Aren’t we already public? You did ask me out at a convention?”

He also sat up, rubbing his hands through his hair to stir further energy.

“Well, kind of. People know I’m dating, but only a select few know who.” He explained trying to assess your emotions at the same time. “We’ve done a pretty good job keeping a wrap on your identity.”

“Probably ‘cause your ballcap and sunglasses are such a convincing disguise, Clark Kent.” You teased.

“Smartass,” he grumbled. “Probably more likely because I have a good manager and an even better team right now who locked down and scrubbed your social media.” He waited for you and added, “If you don’t want to…”

“No, that’s not it.” You stopped him. “I… Can I think it over?”

“Of course. Take all the time you need; there’s no rush.” He assured.

“I’ll have to talk to some people beforehand. Friends, coworkers, family.” You gritted your teeth. “My mom, she… Well, she might make things difficult.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up so late. We can sleep on it and talk to the team tomorrow. They’ll answer any questions you have and maybe provide some guidance on the hard things.” He bent down to look into your eyes. “Okay?”

You nodded in response.

“Let’s get some rest, yeah?” He encouraged again and pulled you down against him.

But how the fuck were you supposed to sleep now? Your whole world could change overnight. And you weren’t sure you were ready for it.

---

TAGS:

Everything Jackles: @akshi8278

GHTTC: @maggiegirl17 @foxyjwls007 @djs8891 @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @ghostofjoharvelle @ellen-reincarnated1967 @deansgirl79 @chriszgirl92

(Always feel free to ask to be added or removed (I won't be offended))

[fluentmoviequoter]

Don't Touch Her

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: You and Deacon are abducted by men who want revenge on you. After Deacon is forced to watch them hurt you, it is up to him to comfort you and keep you calm.

Warnings: angst, chloroform, beating/torture of reader (not overly graphic), depictions of injuries, fluff/comfort at the end, I stand by my opinion that Street would always pick rock and fall right into 20-David's trap every time they asked him to play

Word Count: 3.0k+ words

A/N: I am a Deacon uses pet names apologist. Sweetheart, gorgeous, babe... He only uses the good ones; which I know for a fact. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Picture from Pinterest

“He always picks rock,” you whisper.

Deacon nods, continuing the streak of tricking Street with something as simple as rock, paper, scissors.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” Street says, presenting his fist as ‘rock’ while Deacon lays his palm flat as ‘paper.’

Deacon’s eyes widen, nodding to himself. “I can’t believe I beat you!”

You snicker behind your hand as Deacon shakes Street’s hand, a pleased smile on his face.

“I can’t believe he falls for that every time,” Hondo laughs as Street leaves.

Hicks yells for 20-David to prepare to roll, and your quiet morning of pestering Street becomes a distant memory in the long hours that follow.

✯✯✯✯✯

Through your years of friendship with Deacon, you’ve grown incredibly close. Whether in the field or out to dinner, you can talk without speaking, understand without hearing, and show your care from great distances.

After a series of bank robberies turned hostages, 20-David returns to HQ just past the thirteen-hour mark after leaving. It’s a few minutes after 9 p.m., but you’re all exhausted and hungry. Street, Luca, and Tan decide to go to a nearby 24-hour diner before going home, but you want to go home, not sit in a greasy diner.

“Want to come over for dinner?” you ask Deacon, removing your gear and stowing it in your locker.

“Sure,” Deacon answers happily. “You cooking?”

“Oh, yeah,” you play along. “I was thinking a three or four-course meal, worthy of a Michelin tire - star or two.”

Hondo chuckles at your joke before waving over his shoulder on his way out.

“Sounds delicious,” Deacon replies with a smile. “But I’m in the mood for something a little faster.”

You nod, leaning against Deacon as he takes your bag. After years of spending time together after work, you have created a well-calculated habit. If you go to your house, Deacon drives, but if you go to his house, you drive. Most nights, one of you leaves your car at S.W.A.T. HQ, accompanying the other to work the following morning.

Deacon wraps his arm around your shoulders, leading you to the parking lot and stowing your bag with his. Offering you a hand, he helps you into the car and ensures you are buckled in, safe, and comfortable before shifting the car into gear and driving away from work for a few hours of rest.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Careful,” Deacon says as he helps you out of the car.

“Ricky, who is that?”

Ricky shrugs, hiding just out of sight in your hallway. 

“Should we bail?”

“Are you crazy, James? No! This is our chance to get him out. He’s our brother,” Rick argues quietly. “Just get ready for two fighters.”

The door opens, and you step in before Deacon. As you close the door, you raise a hand to stop Deacon. Something feels off, though you can’t place what.

Walking toward your hallway, Deacon is right behind you when two masked assailants attack you. Approaching from behind, you and Deacon are at a disadvantage as you try to keep them far enough away to keep the rags in their hands away from your faces. You elbow the man behind you in the ribs, but when he leans forward, the rag covers your mouth and nose as the smell of chloroform invades your senses. Even as your reflexes slow, you continue fighting, looking over at Deacon in a similarly poor state.

 “Don’t touch her,” Deacon growls through the rag, fighting against the arms holding him still.

A dark chuckle sounds as Deacon watches you fall to the floor, his own consciousness fading soon after.

✯✯✯✯✯

When Deacon opens his eyes, his first thought is you. He immediately feels the cold steel chair under him and the tight handcuffs on his wrists, but he ignores his own conditions as he scans the room for you.

Across the room, your hands are suspended and tied above a rafter. Your feet are still on the floor, but the position is straining your muscles and leaving you open to anything.

You blink your eyes open, coughing as your senses return one by one. Deacon tucks one leg under his chair, prepared to lunge toward you and free you, but the two men from your house walk in before he can.

One points a gun at you while telling Deacon, “You move, and she dies.”

Closing your eyes as you take a shaky breath, you level your expression before sending Deacon a sad smile and a nod.

“You remember my brother?” one of the men asks as he raises his mask just long enough for you to place him.

“Ricky,” you begin.

A metal pipe hangs from Ricky’s hand, and he swings it up toward you before you finish. Your breath rushes out quickly, and when you tip forward, your shoulders catch the brunt of your weight.

“So, you know me, but you don’t care that my brother is still in there,” Ricky replies, pushing your legs back with the pipe.

You yelp at the strain on your arms, and Deacon’s jaw clenches when the second man spins the gun to remind him he can’t do anything.

“Stay, boy,” he taunts.

Deacon can only watch as you’re beaten, catching Ricky’s comments about a past case riddled between his hits. Trying to get more information, he can’t place the case until he hears another name.

“James, care for a turn?” Ricky asks.

James and Ricky, Deacon realizes, are the brothers (in the Los Angeles gang sense of the word) of a man you arrested several years ago on a drug charge.

You scream, pulling Deacon from his memory as his eyes find you again. James has a large piece of rubber wrapped around his hand as he swings his arm, punching you in the face and knocking your balance off again. Deacon’s eyes fall momentarily, looking away when he sees the growing puddle of blood on the concrete floor below you.

Deacon wants to look away from you, but he can’t. When you find the strength to look up at him after a harsh blow from the pipe, your face is bloody and tear-stained. Deacon’s nostrils flare in anger as he tenses every muscle to keep himself from running to you and making it worse.

With tears building behind his eyes, Deacon continues watching as James and Ricky alternate blows, slowing as you stop reacting. When your head drops forward, the pain getting the best of you, they decide they’ve had enough for now.

James stops in the doorway, turning to Deacon as he jokes, “Release, boy,” before locking you and Deacon inside.

Deacon rises slightly, worried about your lack of movement until you speak.

“Don’t,” you say, more blood falling to the floor as you speak. “It’s a trap, Deac.”

“Why now?” Deacon asks quietly. “That was years ago.”

“I testified against his parole,” you answer weakly. “He was doing better with the psychiatric help and he’s so close to getting his degree. He’s changing, but they want their running buddy back.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You flinch as a truck roars to life outside the wall behind you, grumbling as gravel is sprayed onto the wall. Deacon waits, and after several minutes of silence, he stands and walks across the room to you. Kneeling before you, he gently lifts your legs one at a time to wrap his linked arms around you.

Your small gasps, groans, and winces of pain are met with a quiet but reverent apology as Deacon slows his movements. He raises his arms to your hips, lifting you to remove the strain from your arms.

“Move your arms forward,” he encourages, “the nail is straight out, so you should be able to slide the rope off.”

With a jerky movement forward, you feel the rope slide before freezing when a door slams.

“Go,” you command, worry in your voice as you squirm to encourage Deacon’s arms back down your legs. “Please, Deac, go now.”

He obeys, hesitantly returning to the chair just before the door swings open. James walks in, shaking his head as he walks behind Deacon. Expecting another comment comparing him to a dog, Deacon keeps his eyes on you.

He can’t see what James is doing behind him, but your eyes widen suddenly, the now-visible whites a stark contrast to your blood-soaked face.

“Don’t- don’t do that, James. I will do whatever you want me to,” you beg, your voice too strong for the situation.

Deacon can tell from the tone of your voice that you’re worried about him, whatever James is preparing to do to him. However, the puddle of blood below you concerns him far worse than anything they can do to him.

“You’ve survived all night,” James says with a small sigh. “I guess I can give you a few more hours to come to your senses.” He walks around Deacon and squeezes your jaw harshly to whisper, “And when the parole office opens, you better be ready to call.”

James pulls a knife from his pocket, and Deacon fights his panic as he watches it rise over your torso, past your face, and to the bindings holding you up. He pulls the knife carelessly, and you fall to the floor, curling in on yourself as he steps over you.

When James leaves, and you and Deacon are alone again, he rushes to your side, gently moving you as he searches for the source of so much blood. 

“If it’s been all night, and it’s tomorrow now, do you think they know?” you ask weakly.

“Hey, look at me,” Deacon requests kindly, waiting until your chin turns toward him. “They’re on their way. Nothing else is going to happen to you before our team gets here. You trust them.”

You nod before a pained exhale exits you, rolling onto your back to ease the sudden pain. With your torso exposed to him, Deacon can now see the particularly nasty gash spanning your right side, from the bottom of your rib cage to your hip. He assumes it is from the metal pipe, and the amount of dried blood surrounding the wound makes him think it is from one of the first blows.

Deacon pulls his jacket down to his hands, balling it around his cuffed hands, and presses it to your bleeding side. You whimper at the pressure and close your eyes tightly.

“You’re going to be okay,” Deacon promises. “Just hold on for me.”

“It hurts.”

“I know, I know, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes and help will be here, remember?”

The door opens suddenly while your mind is still caught on Deacon’s pet name. Someone laughs before grabbing Deacon’s shoulder to pull him away from you. He falls back out of your sight, and you don’t feel strong enough to look up. You hear something metallic hit the floor, followed by a duller thudding noise before the door closes again.

Worried they did something to Deacon, you take a painfully deep breath and prepare to sit up.

“Don’t do that,” Deacon chides, laying a gentle hand over your shoulder to keep you down.

Deacon’s handcuffs are off, and though James said the first aid kit is supposed to get you ready to call the parole office and sound believable, Deacon’s first and only priority is you. He doesn’t care about their goal; he only wants you safe and alive.

You watch Deacon, grateful for the distraction of his focused, caring, yet angry expression as he cleans your wounds, bandaging them as well as he can with the limited supplies. He finishes wrapping the gash on your torso before moving toward your face. Sending you a small, sad smile, Deacon raises his hand to catch the tear that leaks from your eye.

“Don’t lose hope. Not in our team,” he whispers.

“Thank you,” you reply, watching as he gathers a handful of supplies from the kit beside you.

Deacon rubs an antibiotic wipe across your face, staining it red before ripping another open. He feels a bit like Lady Macbeth, stained by your blood and unable to remove it. It takes every wipe and a dampened towel to clean your face enough to evaluate the bruises and scrapes littering your skin. When Deacon can clearly see your mouth again, his eyes narrow before he gently parts your lips.

You whine, and Deacon sees that your lip is split on the inside from one of the countless hits to your face. Deacon nods, glad that the source of the blood present every time you talk is from that and not something internal. 

“We need to get you upright,” he mutters, looking between your head and your injured side. “It’s going to hurt, but I don’t want that blood draining into your stomach.”

“Help me?” you ask, raising a hand toward him.

Deacon nods, tucking his shoulder under your arm and pulling you with him before setting you against the wall, turning so that your deeper wounds aren’t pressed against the wall. Your breathing sounds labored, more so when you tilt your head forward to slow the bleeding, but you’re still conscious and breathing, so Deacon is counting every blessing, no matter its size.

✯✯✯✯✯

Resting against Deacon’s side, you’re harshly distracted from his presence by a gunshot on the other side of the door. You flinch backward into Deacon’s arms, which tighten around you as everything silences. The doorknob rattles, and you turn toward Deacon.

“Deac? You in here?” Hondo yells. “20-David, locked steel door in the basement,” he tells the team.

“Hondo!” Deacon replies with a surprised chuckle. “We’re both in here. Get that door open and call an ambulance!”

Deacon smiles as he kisses your less-battered cheek, thanking God for getting you out. When he hears the charges are set, Deacon moves around you, shielding you from any possible debris.

“Ambulance for who?” Hondo replies just before the door blows open. He sees you behind Deacon and says, “They’re two minutes out.”

Deacon nods, staying by your side as the paramedics load you onto a gurney and transport you to the hospital.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’m getting discharged,” you cheer, sharing the good news when Deacon returns to your hospital room.

“So, I heard,” he responds, smiling as you extend your hand.

Your doctor wanted you to take several walks throughout the day, and Deacon has offered his company on each of them. He smiles as he walks beside you through the hospital hall.

“You’re going to stay with me for a few days,” he tells you. “As long as that’s okay with you.”

Part of Deacon was worried that seeing him would be a reminder of what you’ve been through. You smile every time he returns, even if he only went down the hall, so he’s confident that you still enjoy his presence.

“So, I’m driving?” you ask with a smile, referencing your habit of trading responsibilities.

He shakes his head, smiling as you wink at him. Your bruises are lighter after several days in the hospital, and your bandages are changed often, signs that you are healing. Your demeanor isn’t that of someone who was beaten and nearly killed just a week ago.

“Thank you, Deacon,” you tell him as you return to your room.

He hovers, ensuring you’re safe as you sit on the lowered bed. “Any one of us would have done it.”

“Even the kiss on the cheek?”

“You don’t remember any such thing,” Deacon replies playfully, pulling his chair to your side.

“I remember that you looked really worried,” you admit quietly, picking at the thin hospital blanket. “But you did what they said so they didn’t kill me.”

“I was worried. Watching that was- I honestly don’t know how I kept myself calm enough to stay in that chair.”

“Your calmness saved my life, Deacon.”

You pull Deacon’s hand into your lap, placing both your hands around his larger one, content in his presence and his care for you.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you get inside Deacon’s house, you sigh as you sit on a comfortable chair after far too long in stiff hospital beds and seats. You watch Deacon as he gathers your things, moving into the kitchen before bringing you a blanket.

“I guess this means we’re done?” you ask.

Deacon looks up quickly, his brows furrowed while his eyes are fixed on yours.

“You’ll never want to come to my house again,” you add.

Deacon releases a panicked breath, the worry that you meant something different escaping. He sits beside you before speaking, laying the blanket in your lap and placing his arm across the cushions behind you.

“I can’t think of a single thing that would drive me away from you,” he says.

“Not even all my scars?”

“You’ve never had a problem with mine.” Deacon shrugs before finishing, “You’re a survivor, that is what those marks mean.”

“I- I want to tell you something, but I don’t want you to think it’s just because you saved my life.”

“Then let’s say it later,” Deacon responds, quickly pressing his lips to your temple. “Maybe we can try dinner again in a few days; enjoy that four-course meal you promised me."

You nod as you laugh, leaning against Deacon’s side. You’ve loved him since long before he saved you, and you’re ready to tell him. Luckily for you, Deacon feels exactly the same, though his protectiveness may be a bit more prevalent for a few weeks.

Each moment spent with Deacon is a gift, and you count down the moments until you can tell him exactly what he means to you. Deacon is your best friend and always will be, but he’s easy to love and willingly gives his love in return. Though his protectiveness swells and his anger rears its head at the court hearing, you lean against his side, a reminder that you are still here because of him. And the dinner after is plenty of incentive to stay calm… for you.

[winterchimez]

A Little Care | Lee Sangyeon

SUMMARY: you have been awfully stressed out with work lately, and your boyfriend notices how it has affected you negatively, so he finally decides to give you some care for the night.

PAIRING: bf Sangyeon x f!reader

GENRE: smut (18+ MDNI!!)

WARNINGS: kissing, making out, fingering, oral (f!reader receiving), nipple play, cum tasting (f! reader), p in v sex, unprotected sex (pls do it safely irl folks)

WORD COUNT: 2,253

A/N: so i know i've said from the beginning how i would never write smut... well, something snapped and things happened so here we are 🤡 huge shoutout to my loves @sungbeam & @juyeonszn for proofreading this & reassuring me that it's okay ily both 😭🩵 this is my very first smut, so pls bear with me ><

update!! i've moved my nsfw works to @midnightfantasiez so do drop by and read my other works & say hi 🥰

The pouring rain that was hitting the train windows was making you ten times worse than you already were. 

It has been such a hectic few weeks for you at the office, but today was the worst of them all. Apparently, your director has been disregarding their employees' well-being and instead kept giving every single one of you more workload than you could’ve possibly endured. They have also made it clear that there will be no exception for losing the deadlines as they are now finally trying their awful best to fix up the company’s image before their subsidiary arrives in Seoul in the coming weeks for a visit. 

Hence, you have been working way overtime each day at the office, and by the time you have gotten home, it was already late enough to the point that most times, you would immediately crash onto your bed and skip dinner. 

Even spending less time with your boyfriend, Sangyeon.

You both have been in a relationship for two years and recently moved in together at the start of the year as Sangyeon managed to transfer to another branch much closer to where you lived. You were thrilled, to say the least, because that would save you plenty of time to take the one-hour bus ride to the city he used to work in back then. 

Ever since moving in with Sangyeon, he has been absolutely the best towards you. He noticed how your hours were much more tedious than he was, and he offered to cook dinner for most of the days while you were in charge of making the lunch boxes for you both since he would be home first than you most of the time. He was also already in his seventh year working for his company, so as one of the higher-ups, his timing was much more flexible, and he basically worked from home at least three times a week. 

Sangyeon has definitely noticed the change in you. Every time he brings it up, you have decided to turn him down instead, saying how you would rather not talk about it and move on to other much more pleasant topics that you both loved—music, films, and some random cafes that you both found on social media where you both would like to pay a visit on your next weekend date. 

And he respected your decision. Even during your weekly Sunday dates with one another, only a little about work would be mentioned, and you both would have the best days with one another, walking hand-in-hand through the streets while munching on your favourite bubble waffles topped off with ice cream. 

But it seemed as if something had snapped within you today. Your emotions were all over the place, and you just couldn’t wait to get back home and dive into his embrace. 

I just want some cuddles and comfort for the love of God.

“Hey, babe! Welcome home!” 

Sangyeon immediately popped his head out from the kitchen and peered through the door when he heard you unlocking the door open. He quickly approached you while turning the stove off and took your bags into his hands instead. 

“How’s my baby today?” He gave you the biggest smile that you have always loved. His radiant smile would always melt away all your negativity and make you feel much better. 

What he did not expect today was that you immediately dived into his embrace, with tears you have been desperately holding back for the entire day streaming down your face. 

He was pretty taken aback for sure, for the only time you would ever do this was when you two were both cuddling watching a sad film or when you finally got promoted at your job a year prior. Given your demeanour, he knew that something was wrong. 

“Baby… it’s ok. You know you can let it all out, right? You don’t have to hold them back no more.” He cooed while wrapping his arms around you, rubbing your back to calm you down. 

“Sangyeon… I… Why is it just so hard to be happy with my work?” You sniffed, trying your best to talk through your tears. 

“I’ve joined the company because I admired their work ethic and environment. Why is it so different from what I have imagined? Why do fame and money bring out the ugliest in people? Why do they have zero empathy towards our employees who work so hard for them?” 

You were a crying mess, and you just couldn’t stop blabbing out the most profound thoughts you have had for several weeks. You were the type to bottle up your emotions, and you would instead take them to the grave and figure them out yourself. You knew it was your bad trait, which led to you not giving yourself enough time and care towards your physical and mental well-being. And the last thing you want to do is trouble your sweetheart, who has done so much for you. 

But tonight, you have decided that enough was enough, and you couldn’t care less if you finally showed your boyfriend your weakest moment because you just did not have the strength to keep it up anymore. 

When your breathing stabilised, Sangyeon finally cups your face to lift it and look straight into his eyes. “Baby, I’m so sorry you had to go through the shittiest management and deal with their nasty jobs. I may be unable to loosen your workload, but I can surely take care of you if that’s what you want.” 

“But you always take care of me, Sangyeon.” You sniffed.

“I know. But, maybe tonight I could give you some special treatment.” 

You giggled and wiped your tears away. “Okay, and what is this special treatment? Will you give me a spa day?”

It was there, and then you noticed how your boyfriend’s eyes had somewhat slightly darkened, and he was now eyeing both your lips and neck. He then gently drops your belongings onto one of the chairs nearby, and his hands now find their way to pull down the turtleneck top you were wearing.  

“Something much better than a spa day.” 

The next thing that happens, he crashes his lips onto yours, savouring them like there’s no tomorrow. This was different, much more different than what you were used to. Sure, you both have had plenty of kisses with one another, even having slow and sensual ones where you would have each other’s tongues in your mouth. But this was different. It seemed a lot more hasty and perhaps accompanied by lust. 

The soft and sweet Sangyeon you have been accustomed to was gone. Instead, he looked like a beast, thirsty and hungry, as if he had not been fed for a while. 

From the back of your mind, you knew you had to stop and question what turned him on. But with the way his tongue wrapped around yours and he was leaving no room for you to catch your breath, it was impossible for you to think straight at the moment. 

His hands now travel down to your hips, and he eventually forces you to jump and wrap your legs around him as he lays you on the countertop. That was when one of his hands slowly reached down, massaged one of your thighs, and eventually moved to your underwear. 

You gasped and were about to stop him, but he beat you to it. He rubbed your clit, all puffy and pink and sensitive, turning him on even more than before. 

“Baby, just trust me,” he cooed and proceeded to pick up his speed. At the same time, he breaks off the kiss and moves his lips down to your neck, sucking your bare skin. Your moans were getting out of control, each getting louder as his fingers worked their way around your tight opening. When you were finally relaxed enough to his liking, he inserted two fingers into you, earning a loud gasp as you tilted your head back. His fingers plunged in and out of you, his pace increasing. 

You couldn’t think straight. How could you? When your boyfriend is literally fingering you while sucking your neck at the same time. It felt so wrong, yet it felt so good at the moment. 

“S-sangyeon… please…”

“Tell me what you want baby.” 

“I... I want you… down there…” 

Immediately, he smirked and pulled his fingers out as he positioned himself right between your thighs. “I never knew you had this within you, baby. And I’m loving it a whole lot.” 

Sangyeon brings himself towards your clit, licking and kissing while inserting his fingers back into your hole. It did not take him long to insert his tongue into your opening. 

Dear God, you were in heaven. 

“M-more.. Sangyeon… don’t stop.. aaah–” 

As he quicked his pace, and so did your breathing and moans. It wasn’t for long when you finally came, and Sangyeon did his best trying to savour all of your juices. He then lifts his head back up to look at you while diving his lips back onto yours for you to savour the taste of your own cum.

“Baby, you taste so good. How about a round two?”

One thing led to another, and now you were lying naked on your bed. You have been with Sangyeon for two years and have never been naked in front of your boyfriend. And it was also your first time to see how glorious his body proportions were and how refined his muscles and abs were. 

He slowly climbs onto you and lays his hands on your bare skin. You shivered at the contact, you never knew your boyfriend would be so skilled with those glorious hands of his, touching and massaging every bit and corner of your body. He eventually finds their way to your breasts, which you have covered up by wrapping your arms around you. He slowly takes them apart to reveal your bare breasts to him.

“Why would you cover these up? You look so goddamn beautiful to me right now.” 

His lips dove to your right while his hands massaged your left. He circled around your hardened nipples while giving them a little suck every few rounds. You did not know how much your body would react to such a simple action of his, your toes curling and arching at the stimulation. It turned you on so much, and you dug your fingers into his soft brown hair to push him down to suck on them more. 

His free hand now travels back down onto your clit, rubbing it slowly once again to keep you nice and loose. 

“Baby... do you trust me?” 

That was when you opened your eyes and clearly noticed his big bulge poking throughout his boxers, eager to make its way into you. God, you were about to lose your virginity now for real. 

“I... I don’t know, Sangyeon. I’m scared.” 

“Don’t be. I’ll be gentle. And I made you a promise that I will take care of you.” he murmured while giving a gentle squeeze to your hips. 

With that, you slowly nodded before Sangyeon eventually pulled his boxers down, revealing his hardened cock. He slowly lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing your core to capture all your wetness. 

He peered up at you. “Babe. Are you ready?” 

Blinking, you had to take a moment to suck in a massive breath before nodding your head. In one swift movement, he pushes his member into your tight walls, earning a loud whimper from you. Your body quivered at the contact, and your boyfriend came down to you, wiping your tears away. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll give you a few moments to adjust. Hmm?” Even while you both were doing the deed, he was still considerate and ensured you felt comfortable and safe above anything else. 

As you tried calming your breathing down again, you finally gave him a nod, meaning he could proceed. He started slow, dragging his member in and out of your pussy for you to get used to it, all while showering you with plenty of kisses on your lips and around your face. 

When your whimpers slowly turn into soft moans, you let him know that he could pick up the pace. The pain that once bothered you was now long gone and was replaced with pleasure. Your fingers in his hair slid down to his bare back, and you couldn’t help but slightly dig your nails into his skin, which turned him on more. 

“S-sangyeon… faster…” you begged him; you were desperately trying to reach that high.

“Are you sure—you can handle it—baby?” He asked in between his groans. 

“Y-yes.. I want… more…” You replied weakly. 

Your wish was his command, and both of your moans now filled your room and the entire apartment. 

“I-I’m.. cumming.. Sangyeon..”

“Me too, babe—where—do you want me—”

“In..inside... please!” 

Immediately, after a few more thrusts, both of you came together. Sangyeon then leans down and buries his face in the crook of your neck, both of you trying your best to catch your breath. When you both finally came down on your high, your boyfriend broke off the silence. 

“So, did I somewhat manage to care for you today, princess?” 

You turned your head to lock your eyes with him before planting a soft peck on his lips. 

“You have done more than care for me, my prince.”

A/N: i will pretend that i did not write this at all goodbye—

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @hokupi @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 @cheonsafics @sulkygyu @jaerisdiction

[tidbit-fanfic]

A/N: WOW did this take forever. Did you think I’d honestly leave Forever & Always as it was? Here’s your fix-it-fic, part two to Forever & Always, but of course you don’t have to read this if you don’t want to fix things. That’s fine.

TW: 18+ Smut, protected sex (wrap your willy silly), car sex, blood, cannon level violence, angsty angst, the l-word, Micheal, mention of castration, spanking, makeup/angry sex?, fluffy fluff

No one ever said breakups were easy. Months passed before I could even look Dean in the eye again, and more passed until we returned to how we were before the relationship had ever happened. We formed a close bond and worked together on case after case. I accompanied Castiel and Kelly when the Winchesters were arrested, and I became a major support during Kelly’s pregnancy, within the limits set by Cas. When they busted out to raise more hell? I was there to help clean up after them. 

Things became rocky when Dean began lashing out towards Jack. I slammed my fist into his jaw one time. I don’t regret it, and I don’t think I ever will. He left in a huff after, ignoring me, as Sam and I tried to make sense of everything. A whirlwind of catastrophic events later, Dean stepped forward, doing the one thing he promised he never would: let Micheal in. 

“Anyone find anything?” 

“Sam, we’ve been searching for weeks, and every time you ask that question, what’s the answer?”

The younger Winchester pushes his hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lungs. “Just hoping for something.”

“I know. You miss him, but we’re working overtime to scrounge up anything on him. Have you even slept in the past twenty-four hours?” I stand from the rickety chair I’d been sitting in for the past hour, looking into Sam’s eyes. His face quickly switched to one of guilt, a shy, school-boyish look taking over his features. My hands found their place on my hips, taking on a motherly stance. “Go. Sleep. Now.”

“But—”

“Now, Samuel.” He runs off to his room to get some sleep, hopefully. I turn back to my small team of five people. They all shake their heads, a couple returning their eyes to the screen sitting before them. With no sign of Dean, Sam and Mary have become overly stressed, constantly checking in on any form of a lead. Meanwhile, Jack and Cas are out doing their own little thing, leaving me to manage this small team, checking sources daily. Micheal must be covering his tracks extremely well because our facial scanners have reported back nothing about Dean, or any unnatural glitching. 

I walk my way into the kitchen, searching for a distraction. These past few weeks, I organized and reorganized the kitchen at least three times. It’s become my solitude after losing Dean yet again. I pulled out some ingredients and began cooking dinner for everyone in the bunker, hoping that by keeping my hands busy, I could distract my mind. 

“So, you’re going to follow this lead alone?” I cross my arms, narrowed eyes sizing up the Winchester standing in front of me, resulting in Sam shaking his head.

“I’m meeting up with mom and Bobby on the way.”

“Fine,” I say, pushing off of the table, watching as he goes to turn. “And Sam?”

“Yes?”

“Bring him back.”

Sam looks at me, a hint of remorse playing in his eyes. He goes to open his mouth before I wave him off, making my way to Jack’s room. I raise my hand and knock, waiting for Jack’s response. The door creaks as I open it, revealing the young male who has been living with us for some time. 

“Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”

“I mean, better now. Cas is finally beginning to see that I can help on hunts.”

I nod, sitting at the foot of his bed. “Did Sam tell you…”

“He did.” 

“Oh,” I state, racking my brain for ways to keep the conversation flowing when the blonde pipes up.

“You still care for him. Don’t you?”

My eyes snap up to Jack’s. “Jack. It’s difficult.”

“It’s not though. You should tell him when he’s back.”

“I can’t do that, he’s…it's…complicated.”

The male tilts his head, eyes searching my face for an explanation. I sigh, “I, well, he was the one who messed up, and I just took it. I accepted he didn’t like me enough to work through it. Then I fell apart, Jack, and I can’t live through that again.” 

“Is that truly how you feel?”

“There is no other way. We can’t, he can’t change what he did. I can’t forgive him for making me a second choice.”

Jack reached forward, resting a hand on mine, the other to wipe away the tears that fell. “But you still love him.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “But I can’t have him.”

“Y/N, I know I may not have been on this earth for long, but I’ve seen enough to say this: if you love him, give Dean a second chance. You never know how things might go this time around.”

I stand, wiping my face. “No Jack, I can’t” 

I leave his room, returning to the main part of the bunker, not before grabbing a glass of alcohol to numb the pain. I join the research team in the library, sitting in one of the few comfy chairs while Jack’s words echo through my head. “Give him a second chance. You never know how things might go this time around.”

 Heavy footsteps resonate through the bunker, Cas re-entering from Jack’s room, a look of shock crossing his features. “Dean?”

I watch as Cas wraps Dean into a hug, setting my glass on a nearby table as Dean’s voice rings out. “Hey, Cas.”

One of the few extra hunters walks up to Sam, running him through the information we collected since his departure. Meanwhile, Dean looks around at all the new bodies occupying the bunker. I turn my head away, beginning to make my way towards my room to avoid interaction with him, but it seems as if fate has other plans, with one of my subordinates stepping into my field of vision. “Cap? We have a couple of updates on that nest you asked about?”

“Show me what you have.” I look down at the tablet, littered with pins displaying the nest’s pattern of migration. I listen as they explain the situation, ignoring the presence creeping in from behind me. 

“Okay, send out a small group, maybe five? Check in with Sam to get it approved and run a couple of facial scans to ensure that they are where you’re predicting. Good work.”

“On it Captain.” 

“Captain? That’s an interesting nickname.” Jumping at the rough voice, I turn to meet a pair of forest green eyes I used to call home. I look him up and down, taking in the state of him, and maybe, just maybe, appreciating the archangel’s fashion taste, paired with Dean’s attempt at making it comfortable. As I meet his eyes, I can't help but force a smile, refusing to reveal my emotions.

“Dean! It’s so great to see you in one piece. Sam had us searching everywhere for you.”

“Sam did? It wasn’t you?” 

“He was driving himself sick.”

He nods, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Look, Y/N, I know we—”

“Captain?” Another voice cuts through his sentence, and I turn to see Charlie holding out a tablet, nodding to Dean before redirecting her attention to me. 

“The reports you wanted just came back. Our predictions were right. Ketch’s team is nearby, just a couple of miles down the way. We’re sending them the info on the nest right now.” 

“Thank you, Charlie. And it’s really great to see you back, Dean. Especially in one piece.” I turn, heading back to my room, this time without interruptions. I close the door behind me, sliding down against it before rubbing my temples. Breakups aren’t easy, and living in the same space as your ex just makes it worse. 

The next morning, I’m up before everyone else, starting coffee and breakfast for the bunker. A sweaty Sam enters the kitchen, grabs a glass of water, and then presumably leaves to take a shower before the hustle of the bunker begins. I relax into the routine I’ve put myself into since Dean left, mundane tasks I easily get lost in. Breakfast is finished before I return to my room, a notification lighting up my phone’s screen from Sam. I flip my phone over, opting for a couple more hours of sleep before dealing with him. 

The sound of knocking wakes me up, as my door moves slightly with the action. I open it, coming face-to-face with Sam. Taking a step back, I rush to smooth down my hair while Sam lets out a low whistle. “And I thought my bedhead was bad.”

I throw a middle finger at him, glaring as he chuckles. “What do you want?”

“Just got a case in.” He walks in, taking a seat at my desk, opening his laptop to reveal a newspaper article. Man Reported Missing By Girlfriend: Claims A Giant Woman-Bird Took Him. 

“Are we sure she’s not just crazy?”

“Yes, multiple police reports of missing men in the area have a claim of ‘giant woman-birds’ taking them. Seems like an us problem.”

I look over his shoulder at the reports, showing drawn portraits of the attackers. “Jesus, those look like harpies. Tricky little buggers, but should be a ‌simple case. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.”

“Good, see you then.”

Ten minutes later, I cross the threshold to the garage, eyes scanning it for the younger Winchester. The passenger side window of the Impala rolls down, revealing Dean, sitting in the driver’s seat. “C’mon, we don’t have all day. If Sam’s right about the feeding patterns, they’re gonna strike again tonight.” 

I look over my shoulder to the door of the garage. “Speaking of Sam, where is he? I thought it was just going to be us on this hunt?”

“Nope. Just me and you, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” I open the door, tossing my bag into the backseat before climbing in, staying as far away from Dean as possible. He grumbles something under his breath, throwing Baby into drive and leaving the bunker. This was going to be a long hunt. 

Blood hit my face as my knife sliced through a harpy’s wing. The creature let out a screech before turning to me, its teeth elongating as it prepared to attack. I raised an arm to push back when a gunshot rang through the air. She fell to the ground, revealing a blood-covered Dean standing behind her. I dropped my arm, huffing and kicking at the dead body of the woman. We had destroyed the nest,and all the harpies within it, leaving only one last step before we could head to a hotel and get cleaned up. I looked at Dean, whose eyes remained locked on me with worry. “You ready to burn these bitches?”

A smirk broke out on his face. “You know it.”

I giggled beneath my breath, grabbing a container of gasoline before returning to the building. I poured it on top of the bodies, as well as the makeshift nests, before returning to Baby. Dean pulled a zippo from his pocket, striking it before throwing it into the door. We both leaned back onto the vehicle, watching as the building went up in flames, the adrenaline slowly beginning to leave our systems. 

I turn, looking at the man beside me. While checking him over for any wounds, noticing his shoulder bleeding. Claw marks from where the harpy attempted to take him. I reach out, pulling the torn fabric from the wound for a closer look. “Crap, Dean, this looks like it hurts.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” He shrugs, tensing as my hands work over his wound. “First aid is in the backseat.”

I nod, going to get it, ready to be done with the hunt. “Alcohol incoming.”

After I ensure he won't get an infection, I thread a fishing line into place, starting the first stitch, causing a hiss to rip from his mouth. Stitch after stitch, I tend to the injury, patching over it with some hydrocolloid bandages before stepping back. 

My eyes flutter open, revealing unfamiliar scenery. Dean looks up from his phone. “All good. Just taking a pit stop. Showers are over there.”

“I thought we were going to a motel?” I rub my eyes, reaching over the seat for my bag. 

“I thought it’d be pretty stupid, considering we’re only five hours from home. I was just gonna clean up and nap a bit before finishing the drive.”

I nod leaving the Impala and making my way to the shower building, clutching my pocket knife in my right hand as a safety precaution. I knew Dean had parked in an area where he could see the entrance, but it never hurt to be a little extra cautious. I entered the station, locking myself into one stall and starting the shower. Peeling my crusty clothes from off, I rinsed them in the water, hoping to remove some of the blood. I climbed into the shower, scrubbing away the gore painted on my body. My mind wandered to our situation. 

I had slept in the Impala with Dean many times, mostly when the motel was out of vacancies, leaving us to find a station similar to this. Sam would stretch out in the backseat while I cuddled up to Dean, safe in his arms. Back when I trusted him with my life. Now, I can’t trust him as far as I could throw him. ‘Give him a second chance.’ If only it were that easy.

I return to the Impala, devoid of monster blood. Dean’s head was lolled back, resting against the seat. I knocked on the window before opening my door, ensuring he wouldn’t shoot me. He opened his eyes, a strained smile covering his features when he saw me. I climbed in and curled up against the door, hoping to catch a little more sleep. Minutes passed before his deep timbre echoed through the car. “I know you’re still up.”

“Not the point Dean. I’m trying to sleep, what you should be doing.”

“I can’t.”

I opened my eyes, turning to him. “Why not?”

“It’s,” he swallowed. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“No, it’s not nothing. What’s wrong?”

He scrubbed his hand down his face, looking out his window. “Micheal fucked with my head.”

“I thought you couldn’t remember anything?”

“I lied somewhat. He was awful Y/N. Showing me the things he would do if I didn’t obey. I—I can’t get the images out of my head.” His voice became tight with emotion.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. He’s gone now.” 

“That’s not the point. Micheal threatened Sam, mom, Cas, Jack, but the worst? He threatened you. God, Y/N, if you saw half of what he was going to do to you, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me.”

“Dean. He’s gone. We’ll find him, kill him and you’ll be fine.”

“Damn it Y/N, you don’t get it do you?”

“I don’t get what?”

“I love you! That’s why he threatened you.” I look into his forest-green eyes, studying the pain and anguish hidden behind them. 

“You don’t get to say that.”

“And why not?” 

I rest my back against the door, as far from him as possible. “You dumped me, remember? For a one-month-old? Not to mention how much of an asshole you were during the whole Amara situation.”

“I’m—”

“No Dean. You hurt me. You showed me just how little you care about me. You wouldn’t have even thought about her twice if you actually loved me. When Micheal convinced you to say yes, and you disappeared, I knew there was no fixing this. One day you're gonna find someone else and leave me just like you did the first time. I can’t go through that again. It would kill me.” I look at him, tears threatening to break through. “I love you. But I can’t do this to myself again”

“I won’t do it again, baby. Forever & al—”

“No!” My sob catches in my throat as I hug myself. “Forever doesn’t exist. Always means occasionally to you Dean.”

“Baby—”

“Stop.” I close my eyes, the pain slowly turning into anger. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Silence envelopes the space between us, leaving an awkward feeling between us.  

A sigh echoes from him, his hand running through his hair. “I know I fucked up. The Mark made me an absolute asshole, and I knew you deserved better. I tried real hard to bottle up those emotions I had for Amara, knowing they were only because of some weird mark-magic shit. After the whole demon ordeal, I knew you deserved better, so I quit trying. I had to hurt you to get you to leave me. I couldn’t run the risk of hurting you again.”

“Dean, that's not your discussion to make.”

“Isn’t it? I’m the one who was going to hurt you. It was me who took the Mark.”

“You don’t think I would’ve done the same to save the world? You’re really fucking dense if you can’t see I would’ve done the exact same thing. The only difference between you and me? I wouldn't have pushed you away for some random creature. Especially a baby!”

“Damnit Y/N. You don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand.” 

His eyes flicker from mine to my lips. “I love you so goddamn much, that hurting you would be hell all over again. And this time, not even Chuck could pull me out.”

My breath caught in my chest. “You don’t mean that.”

“Evey fucking word.”

I look out the window, mulling over his words. “Dean. I—”

“Fuck it.” Dean undoes his seatbelt, grabbing my jaw and forcing his lips to mine. Gasping, I open for his tongue, our saliva mixing into an intoxicating elixir. I throw my arms over his shoulders, pulling on the hairs at the nape of his neck. He pulls back exposing his neck, as I kiss along his jawline. I nip and suck beautiful bruises into his skin, pulling at the neckline of his shirt to reveal more of his skin. His hands go to grip my ass, pulling me over to straddle him. I lean back, making contact with his lust-darkened eyes and swollen lips. My hips grind down, a familiar ache developing in my lower stomach. Dean bites his lip, watching my hips as I rock against the zipper of his jeans, his erection pulling the fabric taut. I bring my lips to his again, small pecks while his hand rests around my throat,wringing a whine from me. “Princess, get your ass to the backseat now.”

I climbed into the back of the Impala, Dean following right on my tail, grinding his clothed cock against my ass as the door shut behind us. I went to turn around, stopped only by the sting of his hand meeting the meat of my ass. “Nuh uh, pretty girl, hands and knees.” 

“Asshole.” A crack rings through the air, his hand meeting my butt once again. 

“What was that again? Couldn't hear it over your bratty attitude.”

I lean my head on my arms, biting my lip to keep from saying anything else. Dean played with the waistband of my leggings, pulling the band just to let it snap against my skin. I push back into him, needing him urgently. Finally, he pulls my leggings and panties down, leaving them tangled up in my knees. Hands trace up my thighs, thumbs spreading my lower lips apart. “Jesus. Why’d I give this up? Such a pretty pussy, just begging for attention” 

“Don’t tease.”

“‘M not baby, just enjoying the view.” He trails his fingers through my folds, fingertips catching on my clit with each drag. Returning to my entrance, he slips his ring finger into me, curling it upward before he adds another. Suddenly, he pulls away, the sounds of his belt being undone sending a rush of anticipation through me. Dean slides his cock along my cunt, coating himself in the wetness fund there. “Wait, wait.”

“What’s wrong?” He leans back, removing his hands from my body. 

���Condom?” 

“Right, right, shit.” Dean climbs over the seat, popping open the glove box to get the needed protection. His jeans and boxers sit on his thighs, cock bobbing as he rolls the condom over it. “Good?”

“Good. Now get in here, cowboy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He breaches my entrance, pushing into my heat, causing a whimper to leave my lips, shaped into his name. The cool metal of his belt buckle presses against the back of my thigh when he bottoms out, his groan vibrating against my back. “Dean, move.”

He tucks his head into my shoulder, a deep groan releasing from his chest. “Sweetheart, if I move, I’m gonna cum like a goddamn pre-teen. Give me a second.”

Rocking my hips back onto him, I earn myself another breathy moan. “Please, Dean?”

“Shit. You’re gonna be the death of me, baby.” He pulls back, my pussy encouraging him to return home. His hips snap to mine, balls tapping at my clit. I arch my back, panting as I meet each of his thrusts. He sits back, hands finding their place on my hips, dragging me back. “Look at you, such a perfect slut for me, aren’t ya? All for me.”

I moan as his hips speed up, the tip hitting the spongy spot inside me. Dean lands another slap on my ass, leaning forward to kiss the place under my ear. “You’re dripping, soaking my cock so well. And you said you didn’t miss this.”

He grinds into me, the icy feeling of the buckle pressing deep into the heat of my thigh. Baby’s windows fog up, our breaths intertwining in ecstasy as he speeds up, going harder, faster, deeper. Dean’s hand slides up my back, knotting into my hair, pulling me up to my knees, without slowing down. “God baby, your pussy is the closest thing to heaven I’ve ever felt. Fuck. Such a good girl for, shit, for me.” 

  I clench around his cock, my orgasm within reach. “Dean, I, I need—”

“I know, princess, I know.” His other hand wraps around the front of my waist, slipping between my folds as he finds my clit, circling it with the right amount of pressure. My head falls onto his shoulder, shameless moans exchanged between us as my climax comes closer and closer. “Dean.”

“C’mon babydoll, cum fr’me.” With that, I reach the heavens, Dean following close behind with a couple of thrusts before he spills into the condom. We lay there, breaths intermingling as he tucks his head into my neck again, pressing soft kisses to the skin there. I pull him away, looking into those enchanting green eyes of his. 

“Fuck you, Dean Winchester.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to my lips. “You just did, sweetheart.”

After cleaning up, again, I curl up on his chest in the back seat, satisfied and secure, as Dean traces patterns along my back, his breath evening out. 

“Dean.” He hums. “I meant what I said earlier. I truly love you.”

“I love you too sweet—”

“But if you break my heart this time, I will cut off your dick.”

“Fair. Now can you go to sleep? I fuckin’ exhausted.”

I giggle at his wording, snuggling into his chest again. Breakups are hard, but when you’re hopelessly in love, it’s hard to remember the pain. Unfortunately, I fell in love with Dean Winchester, and by fate’s design, he fell in love with me. 

[m-writesstuff]

undercover - aaron hotchner

chapter 2

i don’t think i’ve ever blushed harder in my life than in this moment right now.

what the fuck?!

aaron’s attention is on the road which gives me time to fix my shocked expression. it’s not like i’d never had sex before, but the idea of pretending to do it with aaron fucking hotchner made me feel… nervous…or something else.

“jane?” he asks as we pull into the driveway, “you can say no.”

i look at him, he seems concerned, “you think it’ll help further the case?”

“i thought about your theory, you know, how he’s obsessed with the women, right? he’s been stalking us for three weeks, he never watched the other couples for that long. i think it’s because he saw them try and, maybe got jealous or felt cheated on and he goes out in a rage and kills them.” he’s got this passionate look on his face, cute, “just think,” he grabs my shoulder and a warm feeling rushes through me, but quickly takes his hand away. “sorry i-”

“it’s ok.” i smile at him.

aaron smiles back, “you’re ok with this?”

“i just… well, what does ‘this’ entail.” i ask.

he takes a breath, “we fake it.”

“oh, yeah, that makes so much sense aaron, thanks.” i say while rolling my eyes.

he laughs, “you’ll see.”

oh. 

that makes me nervous.

i’m quick to change the subject, “you hungry?”

“very.” he responds, opening the car door.

i follow him inside and head straight to the kitchen, grabbing a pan from the cupboard, mindlessly. suddenly, i feel a hand on mine.

i turn to see aaron pulling the pan from my hand. “i got it.” he says

honestly, i don't even argue. if he wants to cook then so be it. 

while he does that, i set the table and the head to the living room to read. 25 minutes later aaron leans against the archway into the living room, watching me. he looks good, still in his suit, tie hanging loosely from his neck. 

“hi.” i say sheepishly, i feel vulnerable under his intense gaze. 

“dinner’s ready,” he pauses, “... honey.”

i let out a small laugh, “thanks.”

we sit at the table, eating quietly, it’s awkward knowing what we have to do tonight. i avoid the small talk aaron attempts to make, nerves fluttering in my stomach. we do the dishes together, i wash, he dries. once we’re done, the clock reads 6:30.

as i head to the bathroom to shower i hear aaron speak. “jane, you can back out you know.”

“i wanna catch this guy as much as you do aaron, im not backing out.” i say firmly. 

he looks at me weirdly, “alright. don’t take long though, i want to shower too.”

seems like we’re both on the same page about not wanting to stink as we pretend. 

i try to shower quickly but my nerves get the best of me and i end up sitting under the hot water. it soothes me in a sense. i fall into a trance of sorts feeling every droplet slide down my back. 

i hear a knock and quickly turn off the tap. i’ve been in there for a while. two minutes later i open the door and end up face to face with aaron, holding a bundle of clothes, while i’m only wearing a towel.

“hi.” i say staring at him as he looks only at my eyes.

he backs up, looking flustered, “sorry.”

i’m not exactly sure what compelled me to do it, but i put my hand on his clothed chest and smile my sweetest smile, “all good, honey.” i tease, catching a look of surprise, and maybe something else, on his face.

before he can say something i head to the bedroom to change. quickly, i slip into my nicest pair of pyjamas, a silky blue top and matching shorts. soon enough, i find my nerves building up again and decide to read in effort to calm them, but it’s impossible. i turn to my nightstand, 7:27 reads the clock. i look towards the big window facing the road and sure enough, there’s the man of the hour, james fucking hader, in his stupid white van.

i hear the door creak open and there stands aaron, only in his plaid pyjama pants.

oh.

truth be told, i had had a slight crush on aaron since i started working with him. but this, this i could have never imagined. it’s so very domestic, i love it.

i can feel how red my face is. “he’s here.”

“shit, ok.” he starts moving to stand near the window, “c’mere.”

my whole body feels warm as i rise from the bed and walk towards him.  

he pulls me toward him and leans his mouth to my ear, “we can stop whenever, just say the word.” 

i nod and he begins kissing my neck, sucking on it slightly. i practically melt at his touch. jesus christ. he moves up, now kissing my jawline, my cheek and finally my lips.

i’ve been told i'm a good kisser but i could never beat aaron. i’ve never kissed anyone as good as him. it’s like he knows exactly what to do to make my body feel like it’s a pile of mush. 

after a while i pull away and grab his hand directing him toward the bed. he sits down and i pause mentally debating what to do. do i sit on him? keep kissing him? what do i-

he grabs my hips and pulls me onto him. i straddle him with my knees on the bed so i don't actually sit on him. seconds later he pushes my hips down so im fully sitting on him. this feels so wrong, but yet so right. i look at him feeling desperate, but trying to remind myself that this is pretend. 

aaron grabs my face gently and begins kissing me so passionately i could’ve sworn it was real. i basically melt at his touch.

pretend. this is just pretend. i remind myself

he quickly notices that i’m not reciprocating and pulls back, “you ok?” he says while stroking my arm.

i freeze up, he’s so gentle, so kind, so perfect. i need him badly.

“let’s stop.” he says after a moment.

i’m brought back to reality from those words. shit, “oh, ok.”

i stand up and go to close the curtains. “maybe he’ll think we did it once they were closed.” i say.

“maybe.” he sounds weird. i hear him leave the room.

what the fuck just happened?______________________________________________________________

notes: hi :) thanks for the love on my last post <3. not exactly sure how to feel about my writing in this chapter, but oh well. hope you enjoy :).

[homelanderbutbig]

We Made It Together (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1780 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You teach Homelander how to make pancakes.

Homelander's been especially clingy this evening, requiring your undivided attention the second you got off work. When you walked out of the elevator and into his penthouse, you found him moping on the couch in his living room, gloves off, just wanting to snuggle his head into your lap.

You've been glued in this position for a couple hours now, and you are acutely aware that you've long since passed your regular dinner time. And if you're hungry, you know Homelander is too, even if he doesn't want to say anything lest your cuddle time ends.

"I'm starving. We should probably get dinner started," you reflect, lazily caressing his cheek with your palm.

"Just call the Vought chefs," he mumbles, turning his head over to look up at you. He doesn't want you to get up off the couch; he just wants to spend the rest of the evening in your lap.

"No, I wanna make us dinner tonight," you remark. "I think we both could use something homemade."

"Maybe… pancakes?" you ponder, smiling while you boop his nose with your index finger.

"…For dinner?" Homelander enquires confoundedly, lifting himself up to a seated position.

Ever since he was a child in the lab, he was raised to follow the three staple meal times set out for him. It's been ingrained so heavily into him, he has not once strayed outside of this routine. He's never even heard of something as ridiculous as eating breakfast foods for dinner.

He watches you silently as you slide off the couch and head to the kitchen. You shoot him a sly grin, giggling to yourself at seeing his baffled expression.

Once in the kitchen you get to work quickly, moving your stepping stool over to the fridge and the cupboards. You've gotten quite used to maneuvering around his kitchen, as everything had been built taller to accommodate Homelander's height. Pulling out the ingredients, mixing bowl and frying pan, you plant yourself at the countertop next to the stove. You've made this recipe so many times you know it like the back of your hand; nearly every morning at the penthouse consists of pancakes.

You are so focused at the task at hand you don't see Homelander get off the couch and saunter over to you, arms crossed behind his back. He is observing you intently while you sift your flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt together in a large glass bowl. When he leans down a bit lower behind your comparatively smaller frame, you finally take notice of his presence.

"You wanna help?" you ask, smiling sweetly up at him.

As if you posed a forbidden question, Homelander's eyes open wide. His mouth parts open, but it takes a few moments before he can force any words out.

"I… uh… I-I don't…" he stammers, straightening back up to his full height. Immediately, his eyes dart frantically as he feels his body become tense from your proposal.

While Homelander prefers to be seen as a perfectly capable man, a god who does not make any errors, he is ashamed to admit he has never cooked a day in his life. Growing up in the lab, all of his meals were made for him, and he was never taught how to prepare food. Despite his lack of knowledge, Vought built him a custom kitchen in his penthouse, one they knew he had no idea how to use. It almost felt like a cruel joke at his expense.

And now, here you are inviting him to cook with you. Although you have no hidden motivations, he is distraught over the possibility of making mistakes. Anything he can't get perfect on the first try is not something he even wants to attempt.

"It's okay, I know you can do it," you comfort him, giving him a gentle pat on his thigh. "Let's start slow. Pass me the milk, butter, and eggs."

Homelander swallows hard, but he resigns himself to his fate… he is going to cook. Out of anything else, he doesn't want to let you down by neglecting the tasks you've assigned him. Painstakingly, like they are made of bone china, he passes you the ingredients one by one. The carton of milk and sticks of butter are simple enough, but… then comes the challenge. Every single egg he picks up fills him with dread, knowing even the slightest twitch of his fingers could break their delicate shells.

But somehow he manages, spurred on by the small hits of praise you give him for every egg he passes into your waiting hand. Your bright smile and warm voice takes the edge off his nerves, allowing himself to get more comfortable. However, he gets a bit too distracted by your compliments, and accidentally cracks an egg in between his big fingers.

"I'm sorry," Homelander sputters instantly. "I-I-I'm sorry." He can't bear to look in your direction, afraid to see your disappointment. He knew this was inevitable; he can't do ordinary things like a regular human.

"Hey, hey," you say, grabbing a dish cloth to wipe the egg off his large hand. "It's okay hun, it was just an accident, right?"

Tentatively nodding, he looks down at you with his glassy eyes.

"Everybody has little accidents when they're cooking," you reassure him. "And this one is nothing to fret over, we have plenty more eggs."

Just seeing you be so dainty with him, cleaning his destructive hand without a sign of displeasure anywhere on your face… that brief spike on insecurity vanishes just as quickly as it came.

Recomposing himself, Homelander takes a deep breath in through his nose to reset his train of thought. He doesn't want to make any more mistakes, he wants to show you how good he can be.

With a renewed sense of purpose, he begins handing you the rest of the eggs, never taking his focus off them for even a second. It's a little funny to see the leader of The Seven acting so serious about eggs, but you know how much this means to him, being able to do something 'normal' with you.

"You did amazing! I'm so proud of you!" you cheer, your own excitement mirrored in Homelander's face. He soaks in your approval like a sponge, eager to begin his next assignment so you can keep being proud of his little achievements.

"I'm going to mix the batter up now," you tell him, grabbing the whisk off the counter. "Can you turn on the stove at about a medium heat? We have to warm up the pan before we make the pancakes."

While you beat the batter, Homelander goes over to the stove and twists the knob to a medium heat. Before he places the frying pan down on the element, he stops and stares at it in his hand.

Your head can't whip around fast enough when you hear the all-too-familiar sound of his laser eyes activating, shooting a low intensity beam at the bottom of the pan to pre-heat it to the precise temperature you asked for. You roll your eyes at your big dork of a boyfriend as he grins down at you, proud of himself for thinking of a more efficient way to cook. Why waste precious minutes of your life waiting for the pan to warm up, when he can do it in mere seconds?

"Okay, we're ready," you remark, holding the ladle out for Homelander. His grin quickly dissipates when he realizes the real gauntlet is about to begin. "Just put a scoop of the batter into the pan. I'll guide you through the rest."

Hesitantly, he takes the ladle from your hand and follows your instructions, pouring the batter into the pan. His eyes shift back and forth from you and the bubbling batter, waiting for your continued directions. After a couple minutes of silent yet intense staring, he finally sees you make a move.

"Alright, now flip the pancake over," you say, handing him the spatula. You reach over and bring the nearby serving platter closer to you. "Give it a few more minutes on this side, then take it out and put it on this plate."

Homelander follows your orders to the letter, keeping the time in his head down to the last second before he removes the pancake and puts in on the platter. He examines you with gritted teeth, filled with anxiety as you inspect his pancake, the very first thing he has ever cooked.

"I-Is it… good?" he asks you uneasily, like his life is on the line if he hasn't done it properly.

"It's perfect," you finally declare, looking into his nervous eyes while you give him a firm grasp of reassurance on his knuckles. "I'm so proud of you. You made a beautiful pancake. Are you ready to try another?"

A toothy grin spreads across his face at your encouragement, showing off his pearly white fangs. Your words of validation are like a drug to him, he can never get enough.

Homelander nods enthusiastically; he wants to make more.

The two of you continue this formula until the batter has run out, and you have quite a hefty stack of pancakes. At his insistence, you let him take the platter to the dining room table, along with two plates, utensils, a bottle of maple syrup, and two glasses of milk. You don't know how he managed to carry all of that without dropping anything, but he really is always full of surprises.

He picks you up and plops you down in his lap while he takes his seat. Filling up the two plates, he places your dinner in front of you. With a drizzle of maple syrup, you cut into a pancake and take your first bite. He waits before he starts eating, wanting to know what you think of your joint efforts.

"Mmm," you hum, savouring your food. Regardless of the recipe being the same thing you've made hundreds of times, it somehow tastes superior knowing Homelander helped. You look up at him, seeing his eyes soften at how much you are enjoying the pancakes. "See? I told you dinner would be better if it was homemade. Even moreso because we made it together."

Beaming at your neverending praise, he angles his head down for a kiss. Tasting the maple syrup and pancakes on your lips spurs something deep within him. A sense of accomplishment, knowing that despite all the ways those scientists in the lab tried to keep him down, he can rise above it all and be… normal.

Maybe he can try helping out in the kitchen with you more often.

[typicalopposite]

Soooooo this story has been kicking my BUTT mainly this first chapter and the build up to the actual story 👀 but i finally finished so does manyone wanna read chapter one of angsty break up/helicopter crash fic?

PLZ READ TAGS FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚃𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝚘 𝙵𝚕𝚢 (𝙸 𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕)

BuckTommy Fic | M | Chapter 1/? | 6713 words

Link to Prologue | ao3

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚗𝚎: 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖���� 𝚞𝚙… 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜

In all of Buck’s thirty three years there has never been another time that he recalls feeling so secure and at peace with his life. So at ease with not just himself, but with the happenings around him. Which is saying a lot given everything going on around him.

Gerard makes work miserable with his constant passive aggressiveness, and his snide comments… Buck knew to expect racism and sexism. He also knew to prepare himself for the blatant homophobia. It still wasn’t enough to prepare him for the first time Gerrard called him princess.

They have all filed complaint after complaint. Bobby is working tirelessly with the fire chief (whose head was gone over in bringing Gerrard back to the 118) to get him reinstated and back home. The team is rallying around each other to lessen the blows made at each of them by the person who is supposed to lead them, but only cares to bully and berate them.

But… at the end of his shift, Buck has Tommy to run home to. Not that they are actually living together— they do spend almost every night they have off together, though. He is the light at the end of a long dark tunnel. The calm after Buck’s 12, 24, or 48 hour storm. He is the breath of fresh air after inhaling far too much smoke. He is… just perfect.

Buck can’t believe how happy he is, how in love he is. The true meaning of happiness? Well Buck thinks it might just be tucked away safe in that soft loving smile Tommy is always giving him. Buck sees their whole lives flash before his eyes when he’s gifted that smile. Years and years, and years of living with this happiness? He definitely could get used to that. He is so lucky.

Or so he thought….

Their shift is (finally) almost over. Buck is laid out on the couch, staring at his phone. He isn’t even aware he’s smiling at his text thread with Tommy until Chimney comes up and knocks his feet off so he can sit down. “There’s only one person I know that could have Buckaroo smiling like that,” he says, his own cheesy grin taking over his face. “You heading over there after work?”

“Reverse,” Buck answers, hoping if he’s nonchalant enough the ridiculous blush he still gets talking about Tommy won’t show up. “He’s at my place—he’s uh… getting dinner started.” And there’s the damn blush anyway, running up his neck.

“I thought you said Tommy was a terrible cook,” Hen says, joining them and sitting on the arm of the couch behind Buck’s head. She tries to sneak a peek at the conversation but Buck drops the phone to his chest.

He sits up and looks at her offended. “Okay, one… eye’s to yourself, thank you very much.” She rolls her own eyes and picks up the throw pillow to hit him with. “Two… I would never say that!”

“And yet you’re not saying he’s not,” Chimney says with a smirk.

“He’s— he’s improving.”

The bell goes off. They all groan. “Better tell the wife you’re gonna be late Buckley,” Gerrard calls from the foot of the stairs.

The ride to the fire is quiet.

No one can ever say anything without Gerrard chiming in with his unwanted two cents. So they sit in silence unwilling to give him anything to use as fuel for another of his hate-filled remarks. Except today, Gerrard decides to initiate the conversation. “So Buckley,” he says; his lips curl up into the beginnings of one of his snarky smirks. “Have you ever lost someone on the job?”

His eyes zero in on his target; the bait to what Buck is certain will be some kind of trap dangling in front of him. “Haven’t we all? Kind of par for the course with this line of work,” Buck answers.

“Yeah, well, you have your typical run of the mill losses on the job; then you have the ones that tend to be a little more—” he pauses to lick his lips, like he’s savoring what he’s about to say. “—personal.” He continues to stare at Buck, whose skin feels like it's crawling under the intensity of it. He waits a beat and then: “Kinard ever tell you about his?”

There it is… the other shoe, heavy as it drops.

Buck doesn’t respond. He has heard a couple of Tommy’s work related horror stories; Buck has shared some of his own. Mostly they just leave work at their respective stations and spend the limited amount of time they get together not dwelling on the bad aspects of being a first responder. “Yeah I’ve heard them,” Buck says, hoping it will be dropped at that; or maybe they will get to the fire… He doesn’t think it’s ever taken this long to arrive on scene before.

“So he’s told you about Jay, then?”

Buck feels his face drop. He feels his brows furrow in confusion and his mouth pulls down before he can stop it. Everyone in the engine looks confused.

Gerrard, on the other hand, looks overly amused. “Ohh, guess he still doesn’t like to talk about him,” he says, and the engine screeches to a stop.

The fire is pretty intense, and everyone is drained afterwards. Thankfully, Gerrard doesn’t mention Tommy—or this Jay person—when they load up for the ride back to the station.

“Get out of your head, Buck…” Hen says quietly. He stops fumbling with the things in his locker, and looks back over his shoulder at her. “You’re letting him get to you. You can’t do that.”

“Yeah, kid, he’s a leech, he feeds on your emotions,” Chimney adds from beside him.

“B- but neither of you know who he’s talking about?”

Hen shakes her head, Chimney shrugs. “Tommy was here before either of us, maybe it was from back then.”

“He’s never mentioned this guy to you?” Eddie asks Buck.

“Never.”

“Then it’s probably no one important,” he continues. “Come on, it’s Tommy! Why would he keep something supposedly big from you?”

Buck’s tongue feels heavy. He wants to say: Maybe because I’m the one who’s not important enough to share it with. He knows that will not go over well with them, so he tucks it away with his other negative thoughts. “You’re probably right…” he does say.

“Of course I’m right,” Eddie smirks.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Ravi calls out to them as he walks backwards out of the station. “But I’m ready to get out of here! I love you all, but I need my two days of not seeing you.”

“I’ll see you boys later,” Hen says to Buck and Eddie. She is going to meet up with Karen and Denny so they can spend the day with Mara at the Buckley-Han household. It’s all she has talked about almost the entire shift.

Once Hen and Chimney are gone Eddie walks over and leans on the locker next to Buck’s. “Hen’s right, you know,” he says. “You gotta get out of your head about this, man. Before you start overthinking it.”

Buck sighs. He hangs his uniform up, and closes the locker. “Yeah,” he finally replies. “Yeah, I know—I will. It’s fine… I’m fine.”

~~~

A shift passes, then another. Soon it’s been a couple weeks. If Gerrard has plans to follow up his questioning about Tommy, and the accident, and Jay… and Buck not knowing about any of it, he hasn’t acted on them yet.

Maybe everyone was right. Maybe it was just something to get under Buck's skin; plant the seeds of doubt that had never once been present before and set in motion the derailment of the most stable relationship Buck knows he’s ever had. He decides to remove it from the bin of thoughts that he randomly goes through and obsesses over, and fully let it go…

Or, that was the plan, anyway.

By mid September—following a lengthy investigation into exactly how Gerrard was put back in charge of the 118; that ended with multiple people losing their jobs, Gerrard included—Bobby was finally reinstated as their captain. It should be a joyous day. Gerrard is cleaning out his—well it’s no longer his—office. The whole team is gathered outside, ready to give him a great big good riddance for the final time.

Gerrard walks out, passing by each firefighter as if they weren’t even there, head still held high. He stops just as he is about to step out of the station, turns and locks his sight on Buck. “You ever ask Kinard about that accident?” He asks, narrowing his eyes menacingly. “Or are you too scared you might learn Prince Charming isn’t quite as Charming as he seems.”

Buck tenses his jaw, holding it firmly in place, fully prepared to not indulge in his taunting. He’s about to be gone for good; he only has to deal with him for a little bit longer.

Gerrard raises his brows, his smirk bordering on becoming manic. “Don’t believe me? Just ask your buddies. Han and Wilson have plenty of stories of their days as probies working with the real Tommy… before he went sweet.” Again Buck can feel his face furrowing in confusion before he can stop it.

“Don’t listen to him, Buck,” Hen says, putting herself between him and Gerrard. Chimney joins her, their backs to Gerrard who has made no more effort to just get lost (like Buck, and everyone else, wishes he would). “I told you he is just trying to get—”

“Oh, come now Henrietta,” Gerrard scoffs. “Don’t act like he didn’t put you down, and treat you like the maid, and less than him… just like everyone else—well, save for Han of course.” Gerrard turns his attention to Chimney, who is still not looking at him. “You haven’t told him about how Tommy treated you when you started… and only let up once you saved his life.”

“Alright that’s enough,” Bobby says, making his way to the front of the group, right up to Gerrard. “I don’t know what your motive is here, but I think it’s time for you to leave.”

There’s a short lived, but still intense, staring battle between the two men, with the entire team watching and holding their breath. Gerrard flicks his eyes from Bobby to Buck and his damned smirk returns. He doesn’t say another word, just turns and walks away. Ravi lets out a ‘whoop whoop’ causing an uproar of cheers and laughter from the entire 118.

It was a summer of hell under Gerrard, but now it’s over. Life can finally get back to normal… except— except now a can of worms has been opened. “What was he talking about,” Buck asks once the crowd disperses, and it’s just their little group standing by the engine.

Hen groans. “Buck, you’re letting him get to you.”

“But you’re not denying it—”

“Because it’s not important,” Chimney interrupts. “By the time I started Tommy had already been under Gerrard for a while; that man had his hooks so deep in him—in all of them. Besides, he has more than apologized for how he acted back then.”

“You do know he’s part of the reason Gerrard had to leave the 118 in the first place,” Hen adds. “He reported his behavior towards me. That’s the story you should care about, Buck. Or how he helped us with that neighborhood fire; saved Eddie and that kid's lives. Or how he risked his job to help us find Cap and ‘Thena… Not the things he has done that he has long been forgiven for.”

Buck knows it’s a losing argument; he doesn’t think he really wants to argue with them about it anyway. They’re right. Why let all this stuff an old bigot tried to resurface from Tommy’s past dictate their happy present. It shouldn’t matter; it doesn’t matter… if Chimney and Hen forgive him, that’s all that matters.

Except…

Except he knows himself well enough to know he isn’t going to be at ease until he at least figures out what the deal with this accident is all about, and who exactly Jay is.

~~~

“Babe, can I ask you kind of a personal question?”

Tommy leans out around the opened hood of his truck to look at him. “Of course,” he says, furrowing his brows slightly. Buck knows he has probably turned a shade of green from how sick to his stomach he feels about actually approaching this. Especially after being told repeatedly that he shouldn’t. Tommy sets his wrench down and grabs a rag to clean off his hands, walking out of the garage to Buck. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh—yeah, well, that’s just it… I don’t—” Buck pauses, takes a deep breath and just spits it out: “Tommy, who’s Jay?”

Tommy blinks. His face shifts from concerned to confused to something somewhere between anger and annoyance. “Where did you— How did you…” he sighs. “Let me guess. Gerrard?”

“Mhmm,” Buck hums with a small nod.

“That’s just—” Tommy starts, huffing out a sarcastic laugh as he roughly wipes the oil and grease from his hands. “That’s just great,” he finishes, angrily tossing the cloth at the floor. Buck waits patiently; he thinks he owes Tommy that much seeing as whatever—whoever—this is, it’s clearly something Tommy isn’t happy about Gerrard sharing. “I–” Tommy looks at Buck, his eyes suddenly turning red and he quickly wipes at them. “I’m sorry, Evan. I can’t…”

“You can’t?”

Tommy shakes his head hard. “I can’t talk about this–about him, not now… not yet. I–” He inhales sharp and it comes back out a broken sob. Buck is so taken aback, because Tommy rarely ever cries; Buck doesn’t think he’s ever seen him shed more than a few tears, and those were over happy moments.

One time was during some sappy—but with the saddest ending—romcom. Once when he found a dead cat in his backyard. And maybe the most emotional was when Buck slipped up during a particularly passionate kiss and told him that he loved him. Tommy’s face went so red, and Buck began to panic and then profusely apologize until Tommy took his face in his hands and said it back a single tear falling from his eye. Buck wiped it away and leaned back in to continue kissing him.

“Hey,” Buck says, feet quickly moving him across the cement toward Tommy. He slips his arms under Tommy’s, wrapping them around his back and pulling him into a hug. “It’s okay… you don’t have to.”

“I’m—I’m sorry… It’s just… it’s too—”

Buck can feel the tears soaking through his shirt where Tommy has pressed his face to Buck’s shoulder. He feels like such a jerk. “No,” he says, rubbing his hands up and down Tommy’s back. “No, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have asked. I was letting Gerrard get in my head—I was being stupid…”

“You’re not being stupid, Evan,” Tommy says, muffled against the fabric of Buck’s shirt. “You were curious. I understand… It’s just–” Tommy pulls away, taking a step back. He wraps his own arms around himself, and it shocks Buck how small he seems right now. He slowly lifts his eyes to Buck’s, he looks broken (Buck hates himself for it) but mostly he looks worried. “This is—it’s really personal…” he says. “And I’m just not ready to share it yet.”

“That’s okay,” Buck quickly responds. “I understand, and I won’t bring it up again. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

A wave of relief visibly washes over Tommy’s face. The worried frown turns back into that familiar soft smile, and Buck tells himself he is one hundred percent fine with how this whole conversation turned out.

He is fine not knowing.

He is fine.

~~~

Time passes and it feels like the universe is playing the ultimate prank on one Evan Buckley.

On the outside everything has returned to normal. Everyone’s lives seem to have fallen back in line. Bobby is once again leading them, Hen and Karen get Mara back, Eddie convinces Christopher to come home (and they are both regularly going to therapy about the whole Kim/Shannon of it all), Chimney’s latest appointment shows no lingering effects of the encephalitis… but Buck— Buck is… struggling. He is struggling, and he feels so guilty about it, but he can’t get past it.

If it’s not seeing the name Jay in—damn near constant—passing, it’s hearing random stories about the people Tommy has saved (and knowing somewhere out there is a story of someone significant he didn’t). It’s the little signs, and the messages, and the ads he keeps seeing; an online quiz on ‘how well do you know your partner’, a billboard about getting out of an untrustworthy relationship, a commercial about not keeping secrets.

They mean nothing, he knows that. He’s self-sabotaging, he knows that.

It doesn’t stop him from collecting each one like trading cards and adding them to his bin of thoughts until it’s full and he has to do something or it’s going to overflow and drown him.

“You planning on spending your day off here, Buckaroo?”

“Hmm…” Buck blinks, breaking from his thoughts and looking up from his phone—more specifically from the text that just came in. Chimney is standing in front of him, arms crossed, brows pulled together. “Oh, hey Chim—I was just watching—” but the TV is now off. “Huh? I was watching TV.”

Chimney hums, tucking his hands further under his arms. “Is everything okay,” he asks. “You and Tommy… you good?”

“What? Yeah. We’re— Why— why would you think we weren’t? Has he—”

“Whoa now; calm down,” Chimney laughs, putting his hands up in defense. “Tommy hasn’t said anything. You just seem… distracted. Ever since—” He pauses. “I just want to make sure you’re not still dwelling on the crap Gerrard said.”

“Oh, I—” His phone feels extremely heavy in his hand now. He gets the reminder of the unread text. He should probably say something before Chimney gets suspicious. “I’m fine,” he lies, and it makes his stomach sour instantly.

Chimney doesn’t move—doesn’t look away. “You sure about that?” Buck nods, thinking he might be sick if he tries to say another word. “Okay,” Chimney sighs. “You know, Buck… we all have done things we aren’t proud of. I know I have…” Buck is reminded of an angry fist, and a swollen black eye Chimney apologized for everytime they were alone for almost a year.

He is reminded of a lawsuit he still regrets, and a tipsy kiss that unintentionally spiraled him into his second serious relationship. He is reminded of sudden nerves burying him deep into a closet he hadn’t even realized he had been in all along. He is reminded of reaching out for help spying on his boyfriend because he can’t get out of his own head about something that could very much be nothing.

His phone vibrates; another reminder he has an unread text.

He waits until Chimney disappears down the stairs to look back at his phone.

I’ll be home at 8… see you then

~~~

Buck parks his jeep outside the apartment complex, takes the stairs up to the third floor, and stands awkwardly outside apartment 3C contemplating turning around and running back down before he is spotted. He doesn’t, and instead lifts his hand to knock.

A couple days ago his thought’s overfilled the bin … a couple days ago he could no longer ignore his curiosity … a couple days ago Buck came to one of the only people who doesn’t know Tommy enough to be emotionally invested in this … investigation … Buck decided he needed to go on.

A moment later the door is pulled open, and May is in front of him. “Hey,” she says, her smile mirroring Athena’s. “Come in!”

“Uh— Hey,” Buck says back, subconsciously wiping the sweat forming on his hands, off. “So did— did you find anything?” Her smile fades, she shifts on her feet. “You did… Is it — is it that bad…” he asks, wondering if he will even be able to hear her response over the sudden pounding of his heart.

“It’s not necessarily good,” she replies. He wishes he actually hadn’t been able to hear her. He feels himself start to deflate.

May walks to her room, comes back with her laptop, stalls just as she’s about to hand it to him. “Wait,” she says, pulling the laptop back to her chest and holding it there. “Are you sure you want to do this? I mean… why make trouble in paradise when there isn’t any?”

“Is it really paradise if he’s hiding stuff from me?”

May sighs, and opens her laptop. “I guess not,” she says once her password is entered and everything she found is pulled up.

The first thing she shows him is the article released the day of the accident.

Tragedy on the Vincent Thomas Bridge

Unidentified man jumps from bridge into LA Harbor late Tuesday afternoon.

LAFD station 118 responded to calls that a man had climbed over the bridge railing. Witnesses say Thomas Kinard (Pictured above) a firefighter with the 118 was on scene trying to talk the man off the edge before he let go, falling 186 feet into the Harbor below.

Buck looks at the picture of a much younger Tommy, dazed and disheveled, one hand running through his hair. He thinks, I know that look… I’ve had that look. He thinks of Devon falling to the ground from the roller coaster. Suddenly he is regretting everything about this. He clicks to the next article anyway.

LGBTQ+ Community Speak Out On Bridge Suicide

Following the death of Jay Pridgen, a member of the LGBT community, rumors began of prejudices within LAFD Station 118, who were present at the scene of the accident. The rumors are calling the stations Captain, Vincent Gerrard, out for repeatedly exhibiting biased behaviors when dealing with minority groups. When asked, Gerrard had no comment. Also under fire is the first responder who was on the bridge with Pridgen. Kinard is being accused of stalling rather than actually trying to get Pridgen off the edge.

Fire Chief Releases A Statement on Alleged Homophobia Within Station 118

Bridge Tragedy Officially Ruled An Accident

While it’s unclear what Pridgen’s original intentions were when he climbed over the railing of the Vincent Thomas Bridge, Firefighter Thomas Kinard went on record Friday insisting Pridgen did not jump but instead fell to his death. Kinard states he was trying to get to him but was unable to before he slipped from the edge. While there are some who still are hoping for an investigation into LAFD, specifically station 118, Captain Vincent Gerrard says he hopes this new cause of death will allow everyone to move on from this clear and complete accident so his team can get back to their jobs without having to deal with the torches and pitchforks coming for them daily.

“Wow…” Buck says softly. “That’s— That’s a lot.”

“That’s… not all,” May admits, clicking on yet another link. “So even though the accident itself is really terrible, it felt weird that he would hide it from you. I mean Tommy’s part of the community, it’s not like he really let this guy fall because he’s gay… right? So I kept digging and I found… this.” Buck holds his breath, May pulls up a picture. It’s an army Platoon, and upon closer inspection it’s Tommy’s platoon.

“I don’t understand,” Buck says.

“Once I had Jay’s full name I searched it together with Tommy’s… just to see if there were any more articles on the accident, but I found this picture instead.” She scrolls up to reveal the names of the soldier’s; the man in the middle next to Tommy, arm draped over his shoulder holding Tommy tight to his side… is Jay Pridgen.

“Oh my god… they— they knew each other?” And well that definitely adds a whole new layer to how traumatic Jay's death must have been. Buck sighs and closes May’s laptop. He thanks her for going through all the articles and everything for him, even if it feels wrong to thank someone for invading Tommy’s privacy.

He rides home in silence, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. He feels crappy, and insensitive… he collapses onto his bed the second he reaches it. Maybe he can sleep on it and his head will be clearer in the morning. Honestly he thinks he would like to just forget about this whole thing; that sounds like a very good idea.

His phone dings.

A notification that Tommy tagged him in a photo. He opens it and is met with himself and Tommy, standing in front of a gorgeous sunset on the beach; bodies pressed against each other, noses touching and their lips just a breath away from a kiss. Yeah, he’s all mine <3 Buck feels the smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he double taps the image watching the red heart bloom out from his thumb.

He is so happy. Why is he trying to ruin that for himself? He clicks on Tommy’s account, looking through all the pictures Tommy has posted of him, and of them together. A visual confirmation of the true meaning of happiness that Buck has finally found. Buck has liked them all already, so he just scrolls through them.

Next thing he knows he has gone back to before they met. Tommy didn't use social media that much, at least not in the recent years before they got together. He only has a handful of images from each year and some years there’s gaps where he didn’t post anything.

Buck doesn’t think he’s ever gone so deep into Tommy’s account before. He decides to go all the way back to the beginning and scroll up. He can’t help but laugh at how tiny Tommy looks in the very first pictures he posted; horrible quality shots of him showing off his baby muscles (compared to the ones he has now anyway), giving his best smolder for the camera. As he starts scrolling through them it’s so reminiscent of his own earlier days on the app, just thirst trap after thirst trap and Buck is kind of loving the experience.

He goes through them, liking each one, before he notices something that has him sitting up in his bed.

It’s a picture taken up in the snow; a picture taken in NorCal. Tommy's mom lives in NorCal so that’s not surprising… what is surprising is the top name on the list of likes. It’s Jay. Buck blinks at the name thinking the letters might shift and he’ll realize he’s just reading the username wrong; it’s JPridge82, he’s definitely not reading it wrong. He scrolls up to the next picture. Tommy with his mom; liked by JPridge82. Tommy in his 118 turnouts; liked by JPridge82. Tommy in bed clearly wrapped around another body, his eyes are half-lidded and tired, the caption reads wake me up before you go go; liked by JPridge82, and a comment… but you're so cute when you sleep, baby! Tommy replies: oh shut up! XD

It easily could be read as banter; he and Eddie play flirt like that all the time. Next picture: a restaurant table Buck recognizes oh too intimately. Think I found my new favorite Italian restaurant; liked by JPridge82 and replies: sameee

A picture of two shadows holding hands. Take my hand, take my whole life too. It’s askew enough you only see part of the bodies and then their hands (enough you can’t see their heights are the same, Buck thinks. That would have raised questions for sure.) Liked by JPridge82; aww baby look at us xoxo. Tommy replies: my god you are ridiculous

The inside of Tommy’s old truck, two coffee cups in the holders. Let’s get out of this town <3. Liked by JPridge82.

The next picture is a new thirst trap, of sorts. Tommy standing in the mirror shirtless. He isn’t flexing, or posing. Just standing there. No caption. No like by JPridge82, but there is a comment from Sal. Not the mopey instagram posts! She wasn’t for you, man! Let it go, you’ll find new ass in no time. Tommy didn’t respond.

The pictures slowly turn from selfies, to work related, to memes. Some of which are extremely questionable; putting down women, or minorities. Some are downright hateful. They are so unlike the Tommy he knows now. They are definitely giving Buck a look at this person Gerrard was referring to when he made the comment about Buck not knowing the “real” Tommy. He thinks of what Chimney and Hen said; that he has profusely apologized for how he was back when they started. Why hasn’t he taken them down then.

He sets his jaw, trying to not let the annoyance building set him off, and goes back to the last picture Jay liked. He clicks on the username. “Dammit,” he mumbles out loud. His account is private.

He gets an idea.

It’s one that on a typical day he would be annoyed with himself for having… but it’s almost three in the morning he is running off pure adrenaline now and he isn’t thinking like he typically would… he logs out of his own Instagram and logs into Tommy’s.

It’s not that he was being sneaky and eavesdropped on Tommy entering his password, Tommy literally typed it out right in front of him. He had taken a picture of them and needed to log in to post it. He is always saying he has nothing to hide from Buck… Seems like he had one thing to hide.

Buck’s heart is pounding into his ears as he opens Tommy’s followers list. Maybe they weren’t even following each other anymore, Buck thinks, his thumb lingering over the search bar. Maybe he should just back out of this while he’s still somewhat in the dark, before he brings to light something he doesn’t want to know.

JPridge82.

Buck feels his heart completely stop beating. He shouldn’t do this. Hell, he shouldn’t be on Tommy’s instagram in the first place. He clicks on the name anyway. Immediately his suspensions are answered. Private accounts come with freedom; freedom to share whatever you want because you control who can see it. And Jay didn’t have that many followers, so they likely all knew the truth.

Jay’s photo bin looks eerily similar to how Tommy’s account looks now, except its picture after picture of Tommy and Jay together.

One in bed, Tommy’s head resting on Jay’s chest. One from what must have been a hike, far from any peeping eyes; a kiss in front of a waterfall. Their hands clasped together over the center console of one of their cars. A movie date; Buck and Tommy have still never made up their missed movie date, never had the time. He doesn’t mean for the jealousy that starts to bloom deep in his chest, but it’s there and he is too drained to even attempt to push it away.

He wonders why Tommy wouldn’t tell him about such a pivotal time of his life.

My Forever <3 Jay captions a picture of Tommy staring out at the ocean, his hair wet and tousled like he just came out of the water.

Buck looks through the pictures, each one feeling like a stab to the chest—this was not meant for him to see. This was something beautiful Tommy had… and lost… and he wanted to keep it to himself. But Buck can never leave well enough alone, and he took that decision from Tommy.

He is about to close his phone when he sees Jay’s last post isn’t a picture but text.

I wish I had been enough of a reason for you to stop lying about who you are. Posted — August 8, 2010. A week before the accident.

Buck closes his phone, but he doesn’t—he can’t—go to sleep.

~~~

There’s a knock on his door.

Buck wishes he could just hide under his covers and pretend he doesn’t hear it; he knows exactly who it is.

He spent his first day off avoiding Tommy. He had hoped Tommy hadn’t caught on; he was working a 24 and from the already scarcity of his calls and texts, it seemed the shift was a busy one. Usually as soon as Tommy is suspicious of Buck’s behavior he will go hide somewhere so he can call—and will repeatedly call—to figure out what’s wrong. He hasn’t pressed once as Buck went through literally every excuse in the book as to why he wasn’t able to talk, and he has seemed just as unfazed by the lack of enthusiasm in all of Buck’s texts.

He should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.

Another knock. He could continue to ignore it, but Tommy has a key.

Buck groans and pushes off his bed, taking the steps one at a time for once; no reason other than to prolong reaching the door. “Hey baby,” Tommy says, cheery and bright, the second Buck opens it. “Were you sleeping?”

I wish, Buck thinks. “I… was,” Buck lies. “What’s all this…”

In Tommy’s hands there’s a huge, beautiful bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine, and a card. He hands Buck the card first. “Uh— let’s call it an… it seems like I’ve done something and haven’t realized what it is yet… surprise.” Buck can’t help the laugh that escapes him. What does he say to that… yeah you have, I just haven’t rationalized whether I truly deserve to be mad at you about it or not. “So… go on, read it.”

Buck sighs, finally looking down at the card in his hands. My forever is written in Tommy’s small ridiculously neat handwriting with a heart at the end. He stares at the card, his mind going right back to a private account and a picture captioned My Forever <3.

“I— I know… cheesy right?”

Buck breaks his eyes away from the words, bringing them up to Tommy’s. “Why— why would you put that…”

“Uhm—” Tommy looks at him confused, if not a little hurt. “I mean… I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be so on the nose… but that is what I see with you… if you don’t—”

“Is that what you saw with Jay too?” Buck asks before he can stop himself.

Tommy’s eyes widen, he steps back. “What…”

Buck has been here before. Putting himself in an awkward situation and so yet his mouth still starts moving against his better judgment. “I mean… that’s what he saw with you… but maybe it was only one-sided.” Tommy doesn’t speak, continuing to stare at Buck like he has grown a second head. Might as well rip the bandaid off, he thinks; shrugs. “You didn’t want to talk about him… so I just found out myself. It’s not like it’s hard to pull up an old news article.”

“You— but how did you get on his—” Tommy blinks, a new look crossing his face; he knows what Buck did. It should make Buck feel bad; it does make him feel bad… but it also makes him feel defensive. He deserved to know—if only he truly believed that.

“I’ve told you everything, Tommy!” He snaps. “I’ve told you all about my past, all my relationships, Daniel. Every sad, and hard, and embarrassing, and traumatic experience… I told you. But you... You’re this big mystery. You don’t talk about anything. The only thing you’ve told me about your past is that it makes you jealous of mine…” The tension in Tommy’s face has gone slack, and he’s just taking the lecture with calmness; meanwhile Buck’s heart is about to pound out of his chest and his skin has gone hot and numb. “But did you ever think that maybe the reason we’re like a family is because we treat each other like equals. Instead of like some of them are beneath us...”

That gets him a reaction; finally, he thinks. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t act like you and Chimney and Hen always got along… like you didn’t follow Gerrard’s lead when they first started…” Tommy looks at him like a kicked puppy; Buck internally screams at himself that it’s enough. It’s not enough, he adds: “Not to mention all the crap you used to share. That you probably got a good laugh about with all your buddies at the expense of others.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Tommy cries.

Buck sees red, throwing the unopened card down on the table and storming up to his phone. He doesn’t even log out of Tommy’s account, just finds the memes and shoves them in his face. “This is what you think is funny?”

“Evan, these are— do you even realize how long ago this was?!”

“What difference does that make!?” Buck screams back.

Tommy sighs, and hands Buck back his phone. “No… you’re— you’re right. It doesn’t make a difference… it doesn’t make it okay.”

Buck thinks he’s said enough. He has revealed what he knows. “So is that what happened with you and Jay…” he says instead… the words sliding their way out of his mouth and he can’t stop them. “He couldn’t live a lie any more… couldn’t live your lie anymore.” It’s rolling off his tongue so easily, it actually disgusts him. But the words pass his lips and he watches the exact moment they slap Tommy across the face and the man gasps like he’d actually just been assaulted. His eyes instantly fill with tears and he has to break his eyes from Buck in an attempt to blink them away.

“You— you have no idea what you're talking about, Evan. You had no right to…”

“To what? Question if I really know the man I was considering spending the rest of my life with? I’ve been through this, Tommy, too many times. You think you know someone… and it turns out you don’t.”

“How can you even say that?!” Tommy all but screams, rubbing the back of his hand—still holding on to the bottle of wine—over his eyes and nose. “Okay yeah, I didn’t tell you about a really hard time in my life… and maybe given everything surrounding it I should have. Maybe I should have even told you about how it was when Howie and Hen first started. And yes, I should have gone through and deleted all those posts a long time ago… But to say you don’t really know me? Those things don’t define me!”

“They sure say a lot though…”

Tommy goes silent. He takes a few calming breaths, fresh tears in his eyes and trails running down both cheeks. “So— so what is this— what are we— what does this mean, then… for us?”

Buck shrugs. “That maybe I'm not your forever,” he says, tightening his jaw so it won’t betray the stone cold persona he is trying to uphold by trembling.

Tommy freezes, the bottle of wine and roses he’s still holding suddenly seem so out of place. “You don’t mean—” he starts; he searches Buck’s eyes like he’s trying to find a different answer. He doesn’t seem to find one. “Really?” Buck doesn’t nod, but he doesn’t take it back either. He just swallows around the lump forming in his throat and manages to hold his composure. “Okay… if that’s—” he shifts on his feet, breaking away from Buck’s eyes; Buck is grateful for it. “O- Okay.”

He sits the roses and wine on the table by the card and turns for the door. “You— you don’t need to leave those…” Buck manages to say; it sounds so petty, it disgusts him.

Tommy opens the door and turns back to the roses. “Think of it as… a goodbye gift,” he says, quietly, giving a halfhearted laugh. He turns his head farther, so he is again looking at Buck, giving him one more chance to take it back. He doesn’t. “Good-bye, Buck,” Tommy says and pulls the door closed behind him.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Maybe axel asking jack for relationship advice

AN: Axel is sixteen in this

Jack was in the kitchen on the hunt for the sweet potato pies that you had made and hid from him last weekend when Axel walked into the kitchen and called out for him.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?” Was all he answered as he turned around and thought about the next possible hiding spot for the pies.

“Um…” Axel started to say and instantly got quiet, making Jack stop his task of finding the pies and looking over at him.

“Everything okay?” He asked and Axel simply shrugged.

“I need advice.” Axel quietly said and a million things started to run through Jack’s mind.

“About what?” He asked as he took a seat on the island and Axel sat across from him. 

“So there’s this girl…” Axel started to say, but Jack immediately put his hand up to stop him.

“Before we go any further, there better NOT be any pregnancy caused by my second born.”

“NO! I’m not stupid! I know you two will kill me!”

“Okay, now that we got that out of the way, continue. What about this girl?”

“I like her, but I don’t know if she likes me back or even notices me for that matter. How did you get mom to notice you?”

“Taking note of what her interests were and letting her know that they were important to me too. For example, I definitely think that if your mother wasn’t famous that she would work for NASA because of how much she loves space. That’s where Nova’s name came from. And she did the same thing for me, we were around each other so much and spent so much time together because of that. Yes, her looks are a plus, but if she doesn’t have the personality to go with it then what’s the point? She needs to be a good person on the inside too.”

“And that’s when you bought her that telescope? And named a star after her?”

“Mm hmm, took me four months to save up my allowance to buy it for her and she still has it laying around here somewhere.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before Jack spoke up again.

“But even when we were at odds before the three of you were born, my love for her didn’t waver. Yes, I was mad at her and let a lot of things slide that I shouldn’t have, and she still forgave me because of the type of person that she is. I definitely didn’t think I deserved another chance and had it made up in my mind that she was going to divorce me and was just literally waiting for her to say it. I don’t ever take having her in my life or the six of you for granted because it definitely could have gone another way.”

“I… see how you look at her when she isn’t paying attention and I want to be able to do that one day. And I noticed that you two never argue in front of us.”

“I have the utmost respect for her and I never want a thought that I don’t love her or care about her to cross her mind because that couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s literally my entire world and it got a little bigger when she had all of you. We want for you all to have an example of what a healthy marriage looks like.” Jack said, being completely honest. Anything that you needed or wanted no matter how big or small, he would do it for you. 

"The pies are behind the cheesecake on the bottom shelf in the back left corner by the way. I won't tell mom I said anything."

"You have officially won my favorite child of the day award."

Your laughter filled the kitchen as you were now trying to cook dinner as Jack was behind you. He had told you that he was coming to help you, but instead he had been the test taster and was stealing bites of food every few minutes.

“Jackman! If you don’t quit we won’t have any food left!”

“But I’m starving!”

“How are you starving and you’ve been stuffing your face for close to an hour?!” You asked as he reached over to take another bite of food and you slapped his hand away.

“It’s almost finished, be patient!” You scolded and all you got in response as he kissed your cheek and you couldn’t help but to smile.

Axel was standing in the doorway of the kitchen and simply admired his parents from afar as Jack had now taken your hand and the two of you were dancing around the kitchen and waiting for the food to finish.

And he took note of how Jack was looking at you when you didn’t notice knowing that was something that he wanted to have one day.

[emmyrosee]

“Do you think we should get a hamster?”

The question comes suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere specific- not that you’re not grateful, he’s kicking your ass in Mario Kart right now- but all the question does it make you pause the game, rest the controller on your thigh and grab a sour straw from the bowl between yourself and your roommate.

“That’s a pretty big step, atsu.”

“We literally live together,” he says, casting you a cocked eyebrow.

You roll your eyes and throw the candy at him, which he quickly pops into his mouth, “yes, and you pay me a monthly rent… which,” you look at him accusingly, “I have not received in three months.”

“Excuse you, I give you my leftovers and I force my brother to come cook us dinner at least twice a week, I’d say it’s even.” He’s pouting, actually pouting, and you click your tongue and rest your head on his shoulder to try and make him feel better.

“Okay- let’s think this through,” you begin, and Atsumu offers you a soft ‘mmhm,’ for you to continue. “Let’s say, in theory, we do get a hamster; who will clean the cage? We both work, and I don’t want to come home to a nasty ass cage. And what if we forget to feed it? And if I kick your bitchass out, who gets the hamster?”

“First of all,” he says, holding up a finger for dramatic effect. “I’m offended the thought of you kicking me out has crossed your mind.”

“Ever since I found out you drool.”

“Second of all -asshole. Second of all,” another finger extends, “I’ll clean the cage! I have Sunday’s off, and I get out of practice early on Thursday’s to visit my mom and pop. Plus, if one of us puts food and water down every morning, it will be good for the next few hours- then, I can refill it when I get home.”

“Atsu, you can barely remember to take off your shoes when you get home,” you sigh, slight amusement in your tone. “I’ve literally seen you wake up with your sneakers still on.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware this conversation was about bashin’ me,” he says, pulling forwards so your head falls, and his hands raise in defense. “Here I was, thinkin’ we were talkin’ about a hamster.” You laugh as you sit up, and even though Atsumu wants to pretend he’s offended, there’s a smirk that’s dying to spread over his cheeks, and he’s trying his absolute hardest to fight it off.

You sigh and rest your head on your hand, and it’s propped against the back of the couch, “you’ve really put some thought into this, huh?”

He nods, but it’s more sincere than you’d expected from him, “I just… think it would be nice to have some company when the other person’s not here, you know?”

“…”

“…”

“…Atsumu?”

“Shut up-“

“Are you worried I’ll get lonely while you go away with the team?”

“No!” He defends. “I know you’re a grown adult who can take care of themself!”

“I never said you didn’t-“

“You implied it.”

You click your tongue again, this time in adoration, and you move your hand to curl into his soft, golden locks, an affection he always melted into. “Sweetie, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve always been able to hold the fort while you’re gone.”

“But you’re always so… sad when I hang up the phone.”

“Am not!” You snort, swatting at his chest. There’s a beat of comfortable silence while he puffs out a laugh. “But even if I do sound sad, it’s because you’re my best friend. Of course I miss you when you’re gone.”

“I don’t want you to miss me. I want you to be happy-“

“I’m happy when you come back,” you point out.

This, has his cheeks flushing a deep pink, and his head whips to you in surprise, as if this was news to him. “What? You think I pick your ass up from the airport at ungodly hours because I felt like it? I do it because I want to. Because I care about you getting home safe.”

His cheeks burn hotter, and you giggle at the sight. His head buries in his face and he mutters a soft “you can’t just say that…” from his palms.

Taking mercy on him, he seems stern about this, and if he’s put so much thought and concern into how you’ll feel while he’s gone, hey, maybe it’s worth the shot?

“Okay,” you hum, smiling as you relish in the sight of seeing him so flustered and his cheeks a deep scarlet. You plant a kiss to his temple, and he tenses up slightly before peeking at you through his fingers.

“Let’s get a hamster, ‘Tsumu.”

[mags-writes]

Sunlight || Part III

Summary: frank offers his shoulder for you to cry on

Series Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical swearing, first time writing x reader, no use of y/n, no beta readers we die like ray nadeem

Pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

PROLOGUE/MASTERLIST || PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

Three weeks had gone by. Three weeks of you and Frank dancing around each other while trying not to tip off Matt that there was something going on.

But was there? Frank seemed so in control over every fiber of his being that you doubted anything was actually going on. Then there were the days that he got home before Matt. He would stand behind you, towering above you, and give your shoulders a rub with his rough hands. He handled you like glass, like if he moved too suddenly you'd bleed. He'd help you cook dinner and tell you how beautiful his lunch was that afternoon, that the only thing missing was your company. He'd pick up when you started getting a cramp in your hand from cutting up enough vegetables for three people and rub his thumbs in soothing circles to make it go away. Then Matt would walk through the door.

Something was going on. That was for sure, even if you doubted it sometimes.

The first time you saw Matt leave the apartment in the middle of the night, you kept your breathing even and didn't move a muscle. You weren't surprised when Frank's phone woke you up a couple hours later and he left in a hurry as well. The next day when you woke up to Matt with a frozen bag of green beans to his jaw, you scolded him like an older sister. The topic of Daredevil had never come up in your mind until then. You didn't know if it was even him to start off with and if it was then who else knew? Did Foggy and Karen know like back in your dimension? Did Frank?

Matt lied straight through his teeth with a guilt-ridden expression. He fell down the stairs. Allegedly.

Other Matt tried that lie once. Only once. Before you ripped him a new asshole. And it led to you becoming his girl in the chair. It also led you to own your own firearm after some kidnappings put you in the hospital once the bad guys found out Daredevil was running around with an earpiece.

You stopped what you were about to say, Frank rounding the corner after hearing your voice echo through the apartment. You took a deep breath and accepted the gracious gift of hindsight.

"If you're lying to cover up the fact that you got punched by someone-" You were about to start a rant again when Frank chuckled.

"Who'd be cruel enough to punch a blind guy?" He said, coming closer and taking the bag off of Matt's face. "What'd you do? Fall down some stairs again?"

Oh.

Oh, Frank knows. That's why he calls Matt 'Red'.

You willed yourself for the love of god to play it dumb. Like you didn't just put the pieces together. One man before you was blind, but despite being a walking lie detector, he wouldn't be able to see your face. The other, while he admitted to being dense, could read people better than you could ever hope to.

"Whatever," You mumbled, throwing your hands up and going around them both to start your normal routine of making your coffee that had been laid out by Frank and making them lunch. "Bro code, I get it."

"Sweetheart-"

"No, it's fine." You interrupted because if you didn't then you'd fold like a lawn chair. "Have each other's backs. That's what friends are for."

You heard Frank sigh and one of them walk away.

"Hey," Frank said, putting both of his hands on your shoulders and coaxing you to turn around. You put up a little fight, stirring your coffee before Frank put more pressure and you relented with your eyes down. "Hey, hey. Look at me, hm? Look at me."

You huff, snapping your eyes up with a hint of anger.

"He forgets I know what it looks like when he lies." You said.

"Okay, so what do you think happened?" He calmly asked, and you knew exactly what he was doing.

"I don't know!" You brought your hands up in front of you. "But it's the same shit excuse the other Matt gave me every time he showed up with a beaten-up face and a limp."

Frank frowned, probably turning over the question of why Matt hadn't told you his secret.

"When did your Matt become 'other' Matt?" You froze, not expecting that question in the slightest.

You stuttered, stumbling over your words, starting a sentence and breaking off at the first word before shutting your mouth and intently looking at his chest. It wasn't hard, he was tall enough that you fit perfectly under his chin and your head rested against his chest.

You took in a sharp breath. "I don't want to go back." Frank reached out, putting his hands on your biceps, squeezing comfortingly and you brought yours to his chest, scrunching the material of his work shirt in tight fists. "All of you take for granted how safe you are here. You don't get it, I've looked up all the bad guys from my dimension, and nine out of ten times they're not here. I'm safe here."

"What about your Matt?" Frank asked, frowning like he didn't quite get it. "He's like your brother."

You look back at him at that. Matt was in his room, most likely listening in. If you said what you wanted to say then he would hear. You stuttered slightly again, getting frustrated that you couldn't get the words out.

"He doesn't see it that way." You finally got out, avoiding Frank's eyes again and you lowered your voice as tears started to gather. "He's been more Catholic whore than having Catholic guilt these days. He went through Clair and Karen and nothing's been the same since. I turned him down and I thought that we had moved passed it but right when I was brought here he brought up the topic again. I-Frank, I'm not safe there-I don't want-"

You started to cry then, sniffling and fighting off the tears as hard as you could.

"Hey, hey." Frank soothed, putting his hand behind your head and bringing you to his chest, rubbing your back with the other hand. "It's okay, doll. You don't wanna go, you don't have to."

"What if he shows up? What if he comes here and-"

"I won't let him." He squeezed tighter. I won't let him take you from me. "I won't let him make you do anything you don't wanna do."

Frank nearly sighed in relief when he remembered he was supposed to be convincing you that Matt wasn't Daredevil. Your use of 'other Matt' had thrown him so harshly that he couldn't stop his curiosity. He wondered for a moment that if you had been hiding that detail from them all then what was it like with Karen and Foggy?

You pulled back suddenly, wiping at your face and groaning for a second before shaking your head and looking up at him.

"Okay. I'm fine." You said. "Go drink your shit coffee." You started lightly pushing him away. "Go, I've got lunches to make."

Frank took a hold of your hands with a small smile, giving the upside of your palms a kiss each to the scars you refuse to tell him about that sat in the middle. Your face softened at that. A small smile fought its way to your face as he then leaned in to kiss your forehead. You had to quickly turn back to your coffee at the look he gave you, a look that he had been giving you more and more frequently, especially around Matt.

Not long later you finished up their lunches and they were sitting on the couch waiting patiently for you to bring it to them before they left. Just as usual you walked over to Matt first, him reaching out for the container and putting it in his bag then you moved to Frank who did the same. This time Frank stood first, giving you another kiss on the forehead and saying his goodbyes which confused you as Matt was usually the first out the door.

You cast a look down at Matt who by now was twiddling his thumbs as he waited for Frank to leave. Once the door was closed and Frank's heavy steps had faded he stood up.

"I'm sorry about before." He said earnestly, and you knew he was telling the truth. "I didn't mean to stress you out."

"I just-" you cut yourself off, pausing and thinking for a moment, remembering that he had absolutely heard everything you tearfully confessed to Frank. "I don't want you to lie to me."

"And I don't want to lie to you." He came forward, bringing you into a hug that you went into comfortably.

"Does it have something to do with a case?" You asked into his chest. "Are you in danger? Do we need to call the police?"

"I'll explain everything to you tomorrow night." He said as if he had just decided it at that moment. Like he was desperate to make you happy. "I promise."

He kissed the top of your head. Memories of your brother's all doing the same rushing to the surface of your mind. Memories of Matt doing the same when you were growing up. You never told him your brothers did that, never told him what it meant for him to do it. Never told him that other Matt had stopped.

"I'm not going to be coming home tonight." He said, pulling back.

"What?" You frowned harshly and he could hear it in your voice making him wince.

"Tomorrow night, remember?" He put both of his hands on your shoulders to calm you. "I just have to take care of some things tonight and hopefully it'll be sorted by tomorrow."

"And if it's not?"

"Then you'll hear about it." He said with a smile.

"What? On the news?" You said stressed again.

Matt laughed, bending down to pick up his bag.

"Let's hope not." Was his answer.

[llonelygoddess]

I'm almost finished with my oc's ref to share with you! ^^ in the meantime... How about the almighty quest of finding the perfect birthday gift for darling? What lengths will they go to figure it out/get it?

Expect me again VERY soon!

Thank you so much for the request! It's helped majorly with my writers block, and I love your OC! Very adorable!!

With Dawn, it’ll be as simple as showing you a cute TikTok that has something she thinks you might like or pointing out things in magazines ( she’s a magazine girly, loves ordering stuff from random ‘zines). Though, if she sees you’re stressed out she fully abandons her gift idea for the moment. She knows how crazy it can be living with the family and in this small town so she asks the family if she can take you away for a weekend to give you a break from the chaos that is your life. Once you’re relaxed and enjoying some rest time she gives you a self care kit stocked with bath supplies, dvds you love, smelly candles, fidgets, a new journal and something from your favorite hobby. 

For some reason, Ricky just KNOWS what you want. It would be weird if he didn’t get literally the PERFECT gift. His gift comes in three parts: a letter, the gift, and a commemorative bear. He gets you one every year from Build a Bear so you both can go through the whole process of picking it out, putting a heart in with scents or a voice box, and getting a certificate (He keeps the certificate as his own little memory keepsake). 

Maeve will spend hours reading all the books she can borrow from the bookstore to find the perfect one for you. She scours the genres from romance and adventure to the scary stuff like Splatter punk. ( Don’t look it up, trust me it gets fucked up lol) When it comes time to give you the gift she’ll set up a cute moonlit dinner at a nearby creek (she’s witchy so of course lol). And by dinner I mean tea time food cause this girl cannot cook for shit. She puts together a bunch of finger foods and drinks with the hopes you’ll spend a few hours just enjoying the atomosphere. 

I think we can guess what Eddie does to find you the perfect gift lol From scouring your Amazon history/wish lists to just stalking you whenever you go out, Eddie is basically in a competition with himself to get you the best gift ever. He’s so indecisive though so gift giving for him looks like receiving multiple amazon packages a day for a week.  

You’d think with all the weed Dakota’s brain would be too mush to think of giving a gift, but no. This man starts planning your gift a year in advance EVERY year. After dragging you around with him everywhere, he’d settle on buying you an experience. Something out of town that you all could go to as a family, like one of those immersive movies where you eat what they show on screen. Or a “potion” making class where you mix drinks together and use wands.  

Literally the only one who just asks you what you want lol I mean, Mateo intends to give you more than what you tell him but he’s too worried he’ll get you something you won’t like. So along with what you ask for, he’ll most likely get you something like a necklace with both of your initials engraved in it. A black diamond in the shape of a heart.

[arrieebooks]

Watch

Precious Weapon Drabble, a week before chapter six.

Pairing : Sierra Six x F!OC (Elle) x Lloyd Hansen.

Summary : Six teaches her how to use a sniper while Lloyd watches them — things get a little heated.

Warnings : Voyeurism. Guns. Smut. Fingering. Teasing. Edging. Jealousy. Cursing. Too much sexual tension. Implied sex. Dirty talk. Praise kink.

Word count : 4k words. (only one part)

Author's note : Another drabble from after chapter five! I hope the timeline isn't too confusing but this is basically somewhere in a week before chapter six.

***

The penthouse was completely silent and peaceful the whole day. Which was very rare. 

The afternoon sun glowed on Lloyd and Elle through their wide, floor to ceiling window. They were both busy with their own stuff. But it's nice this way for them. 

Six is still on a mission with the other agents — a quick recon mission but she didn't know the exact details. They've been in a country somewhere in Asia since this morning. They went with a chopper. He said he'd be back before dinner. 

Elle is quietly reading from her tablet in the living room as her legs propped up on their coffee table. She has her headphones in, listening to her favorite songs on her phone in full volume. 

Meanwhile, Lloyd's at the dining table, doing some quick paperwork on his laptop while his thick fingers constantly typed on the thin keyboard. He needed to finish this before tonight so he could do some other things. 

They didn't really do this very often. Just quietly doing their own things without any interactions at all. It had been like this for hours now. They're both waiting for Six. 

Nowadays, it's always been the three of them with everything. Not in bed, though, they've been all too busy to take their time to do that. But in general. They've been spending a lot of time together outside of missions. More than any of them has ever had with anyone. 

Most nights, she comes up with some new recipe to cook and then they'd eat it all together at the dining table. Sometimes, they'd watch some movies that she personally picked in their living room if they had nothing else to do. Or, she'd force them to play some stupid card game where she would always win again and again. 

She also takes care of them a lot. After every mission, she'd make them sit in front of them while she heals any sort of scars or wounds they had.

She's a fucking blessing in disguise for them. 

“Elle, come here.” Lloyd suddenly calls out to her with a stern tone. He'd been in working mode. 

Even with headphones on and a full volume of music, she could still hear him, loud and clear. She frowns, taking her headphones off to rest around her neck.

“What?” she simply asks before getting up from the couch and starts walking to him with her tablet still in her hands. 

Lloyd's eyes follow her body as she gets closer and closer to him. She's wearing a plain, pink flowy and short sundress while not bothering to even wear a bra as he could clearly see her nipples poking out. She's home the whole day so she couldn't care less. He had to remind himself why he asked her over and focus back on that. 

She takes a seat across from him, placing the tablet on her lap as her eyes try to figure him out. He's so focused on his work, really determined to finish this but he's also a little tired from staring at the screen for hours. She wished she could help, but she knew nothing of CIA paperwork or whatsoever he's doing. If she was being honest, she'd rather not know. 

He clears his throat, staring into her eyes instead of his laptop. “I need your opinion on this. So, to summarize, how would you say how bad the corruption is here? I mean, in your perspective, is every single person here corrupted?” he asks, so formally.

Elle nods easily, leaning back onto her seat. “Yeah. In their own way. But with enough time, I can fix it. Maybe not all of them, just most of them to make a big enough difference.” she explained. 

“We can fix it.” Lloyd corrects casually, even though he was hell-bent on not trying too hard to save this city a week ago. Yet, he knew how much this has meant for her. He saw the way she was so serious about all these missions. She's ambitious and hardworking when she wants something done. Like him.

His fingers continue to quickly type on the keyboard the exact words she said. She waits for him patiently as her eyes study his focused face. He'd been working almost the whole day, sitting on his ass off in front of his laptop. She wants to help him relax. He deserves it, she thinks. She likes taking care of them, pampering them. 

Eventually, Lloyd looks up at her from his laptop with his face slowly relaxing at her.

“I'm almost done with this shit. You wanna do something after this?” he asks, softly.

She bites her bottom lips and grins widely. “Sure. What'd you have in mind? A little quick blow job under the table or uh, bubble bath sex? I'm down for anything.” Elle teases him, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

He grimaces and frowns. “Fuck, no. I'm not…in the mood for that now. I meant to relax. Normal things. Like ordering our favorite food and watching whatever stupid movie you want. Or we could go out somewhere. Somewhere nice, you know.” Lloyd suggests, for the very first time ever. His tone is soft and hesitant. 

It was so rare for him to decline fun, kinky sex from her. He'd always be so pent-up after a mission and would be all over her the second they went back home. They don't always exactly fuck, but they do a lot of other things. They tend to get very creative. 

She widens her eyes. “Oh. Thought you found all those things boring?” she assumes, genuinely asking him.

Lloyd twists his lips in disapproval. “Yeah, but it's…simple and relaxing. Mundane. I've never really done all those things before. With anyone.” he shamelessly admits, truthfully.

Elle nods seriously. “Well, okay, sure. I'd prefer to stay at home. But, can we wait for Six? I just texted him and he said he's almost here.” she tells him. 

“Of course. I need a few minutes too to completely finish this.” Lloyd informs her as she hums in response. He stares back at his laptop, continuing to type fast again. 

She sighs, lifting the tablet from her lap as she mindlessly scrolls through the books she's already read today. She loves reading. It keeps her busy and it's what she does for fun these days. Sometimes, she also reads with Six when they're in bed together. 

As she looks for her another new book to indulge in, she startles at the sudden loud sound from the chopper landing right above them. Only she could hear this, because of her sensitive hearing and all. She didn't really hear much of it this morning when they took off, since she was still asleep when he left. 

She grimaces at the loud impact, dropping the tablet on her lap as she groans softly. Lloyd immediately noticed as he glanced back at her, his eyebrows knitting in concern as he tried to figure out what's going on with her. 

He leans closer onto the table. “Hey, you okay? What is it?” he asks, worried.

She couldn't even answer him properly because there were other sounds again. Some heavy footsteps and then the sound of the elevator. She stopped to think and just realized that it would most likely be Six there. He's finally here—

The elevator suddenly opens and Six steps out almost immediately with his gear still on. He was really looking forward to coming home during the whole mission. It wasn't that bad, it was just too easy and boring for him. It felt pointless. 

Elle and Lloyd snapped their heads to him and they almost smiled in sync. They're both just as glad to see him. They sort-of missed him while he was gone the entire day. Even though the man barely says anything, he's good company and quietly cares about them. He'd die and kill for them. He'd usually only do that for a stupid mission. 

Her smile widens as big as possible and she quickly gets up from her seat. “You're back!” she exclaims happily while running to him, throwing her arms around him. 

She hugged him close to her, squeezing him tightly. She felt all of his body and she knew he hadn't even changed his clothes yet. He was still in a thick bulletproof vest and smelled of so much sweat. She didn't mind. She was just glad to see him back. She leaned her head on his neck and buried her face there. 

Though, she wasn't exactly noticing the huge gun he had hanging by his side until she looked down at it. She slowly pulled away from him, her arms resting on his shoulders. 

She chuckles. “Sorry. I got too excited. We've been waiting for you.” Elle confesses. 

Six breaks into another smile. “Me too. I'm tired, honestly. Could use a shower and a nap.” he admits, his eyes studying her face.

She nods, understanding. “How about some cold iced water?” she suggests with a smile. “And, uh, you know, you could show me that gun of yours. I've never touched or even seen one before!” Elle excitedly tells him with an uncontrollable expression on her face. 

Lloyd peaks at them and frowns, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. You are not touching a fucking gun. Especially a sniper. You could shoot anyone! Or us.” he protests, dramatically. 

She rolls his eyes before looking up at Six for approval with her innocent, wide eyes. He's fine with it, the ammo ran out anyway after the mission. Plus, how could he ever refuse her when she's practically pleading at him with her big, beautiful eyes? 

“Lloyd, it's fine. I'll teach her how to use it properly.” Six suggests calmly, taking a quick glance at him.

Her eyes immediately lit up and her smile turned bigger until all her dimples were showing on her cheeks. “You will?” she softly asks.

Six nods, staring down at her. “Of course.” he responds while they begin to walk towards the dining table with his hand wrapped around her waist. 

Her smile still lingers on her lips as he takes her previous seat and settles on it. He puts down his black duffle bag onto the floor before taking his bulletproof vest off.

Six places the gun on the table with its bipod, setting it to aim at the view of the city as the gun stands itself. She stands beside him as she leans down on him, observing the gun. 

Lloyd glances back and forth at them before maintaining his focus on the laptop again so he could get this done quickly. 

Six's thick fingers brush across the gun and her focus drifts for a second, remembering how good he is with his fingers. He grips the bottom of the gun with his hand and his other on the edge of it, flexing his muscular arms. She's so flustered that her cheeks are slowly turning red.

His eyes look up at her before moving to the sniper scope attached to it. “This helps you aim better. It could go as far as you want. Well, it depends on the gun. But this one can.” Six explains to her while she solely focuses on his calloused, big hands.

She nods, humming in response like she's so interested in what he's saying. Earlier she was, but staring at his fingers and his hands like this is making her feel something and she needs more. 

“Can I see how to aim?” she asks him, seemingly innocent.

He casually nods. “Yeah, but you'd have to sit here to see properly.” Six plainly replies, not noticing the trap she just put in. 

“Okay,” Elle murmurs before calmly sitting on his lap as her back leans against his chest. 

She looks closely at the gun and he is speechless, just accepting the situation. His lips quirk into a small smile, letting out a quiet chuckle. 

Lloyd finally looks up at them and lifts his eyebrows in surprise. “Seriously?” he comments. 

Her eyes turn to him and stare at him innocently. “What? I want to see how to aim.” she plainly says. 

He leans onto his seat as his lips turn into a smirk. “Yeah, right.” Lloyd remarks.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Whatever. It's just us, anyway. No one else, right?” she teases, looking back at Six.

Six clears his throat lightly, nodding. He's trying to hide the blush on his cheeks before focusing back onto the gun. “Right. So, uh, you could just see right through here and then you can aim wherever you want.” he elaborates, his fingers pointing at the sniper's telescopic lens. 

She just hums quietly, leaning down onto the gun as her ass shifts on his lap. ”Do you use this type of gun often?” she asks. 

He nods again. “Most of the time. I just use whatever they give me. Sometimes, it's just a regular handgun. Or, an enormous one just like this but with night vision to identify the target better.” Six explains further. 

He's trying to remain focused on the gun instead of her constantly moving on his lap. It's really distracting him. She's the only one capable of distracting him and his focus. And that's saying a lot for him. He's always so unfazed and calm even during tense missions. Nothing has ever distracted him this much. 

Lloyd rolls his eyes. “She's literally grinding on your lap and you're talking about fucking night visions? Honestly, Six, who gives a shit about that?” he remarks.

She breaks into a grin, turning to him. “Why? Are you jealous? Would you prefer it if I sat on your lap, instead?” she teases him.

He frowns, then scoffs. “What? No. It's just a distracting sight and I'm trying to finish my work. Would be much better if you'd do this elsewhere.” Lloyd bitterly scolds her.

Elle hums, ignoring his demand as she turns around to Six and her ass shifts again. She rests her hands against his neck before leaning down onto his lips and kissing him soft and slow. 

Pulling away from his lips, she turns her head to Lloyd. “No, here is fine. You could watch if you want. I know you like that.” Elle teases him, again. 

Lloyd says nothing. He knows she's right. He had told her tiny parts of his kinks and one of them was watching. He crosses his arms against his chest and leans back onto his seat even more. His eyes travel to both of them and they know what he's waiting for.

Six chuckles quietly through his nose. “I thought you wanted to see how the sniper works.” he softly teases back. 

She nods. “Oh, I do. I haven't seen how the telescopic sniper works.” she says.

His eyes gestures toward the gun and she turns around, her back facing his chest again. He places both of his arms on each side of her from behind. Six grabs her hands gently and puts them on the gun along with his hands too, guiding her onto the correct way to hold it. 

He leans closer to her from behind, his mouth near her ear. “You gotta place your eyes right there.” he whispers, his finger pointing to the sniper scope again. 

She hums affirmatively. “Okay.” Elle says, leaning down onto the sniper scope and placing one of her eyes on the lens. 

Six shifts forward as her ass arches back and grinds on his lap making Lloyd dart his tongue on his bottom lips. 

This is getting heated over a second. It wasn't supposed to. This was just supposed to be an innocent thing. They were going to have a nice, relaxing evening. Not this. Though, none of them are complaining. It's been quite a while since they've done anything physical all at once together. This is close to that. 

Her eye observes the view from the sniper scope, looking around the whole city from a close distance as she zooms in. She could see the inside of other buildings, stores and even people walking close up and detailed. It could even identify the person's temperature. It looks pretty cool despite the heated moment going on behind her. She'd totally geek out if this was a different circumstance. 

Six quietly slips one of his hands on her hips and moves lower onto her inner thigh, right next to her cunt. She lets out a soft gasp while he slides his hand under her dress, feeling his bare touch but he doesn't touch her sensitive area yet. His fingers continue to graze over her inner thigh, teasing her just enough to get her even wetter than she already is. 

“Check her panties, Six. I bet she's all wet from watching your hands hold that gun.” Lloyd taunts her, actually being right about this one. 

He knows exactly what turns her on and what gets her wet. Even though he was busy earlier, he saw how she was looking at Six's hands. He saw that look on her face she has whenever she's turned on.

She rolls her eyes from the lens. “Fuck off, Lloyd. You're not even supposed to say anything. You're just supposed to watch.” she argues, trying to deny what he just said despite him being absolutely right. 

"Oh, well, too late for that, sweetheart.” he argues back, with that smug smirk of his and even though she can't see him, she can hear him smirk. 

Six leans onto her ears. “Don't let him ruin the mood.” he whispers quietly, but still letting Lloyd hear what he's saying to her. 

She nods as his fingers slips into her panties, nudging it to the side until he finally feels her soaking wet cunt. Her cheeks heat up in embarrassment and pleasure.

“Shit, he's right. You are wet.” Six curses, which is rare for him but nowadays, he slips up a lot because of her.

“See? Told you.” Lloyd taunts again and it's only making her even wetter. His dick twitches at the thought of it. He hasn't even seen it or touch her yet. He's trying so hard not to palm himself through his pants now.

She stays quiet instead. She has nothing to say. Her eyes still stay on the sniper scope where it's zoomed in on the city but she's not even focusing on that. She's only focusing on his fingers as he slowly rubs her clit with gentle strokes, just how she likes it.

Six's mouth brushes against her ear. “How'd you get so wet just from watching my fingers, hm?” he curiously asks but he's also teasing her.

She moves her eyes away from the scope and leans back, bumping his chest. She lets out a breathy moan while he inserts two fingers inside her core.

“I guess I just missed your fingers. Inside of me.” she breathes out, shifting on his lap even more and he could already feel his dick growing hard from all this.

He adds two more fingers inside her as she lets out a soft gasp, barely even feeling like it's a stretch. It's the first time he's put in more than two fingers. He's usually always so gentle and delicate with her, even though she could take it. He's not exactly being rough now, but this is still a different him that he's never shown her before. This whole situation is making him heated.

Six curls his fingers inside, hitting her sweet spot as her wet sounds fill the penthouse. She whimpers softly and her cheeks leans against his own, her hands reaching out to his arms.

“You're taking it so well, I know you would.” he praises her, only whispering it to her ear and she moans at the praise. He's not really that into dirty talk or anything with her. He usually just tells her what she wants to hear and he knows she likes being praised. But he didn't do this very often.

He pulls away from her ear and brushes her hair. “Do you just want me or do you want him to join?” Six asks her, making sure to let the other man hear him.

Lloyd cuts her off before she could even open her pretty mouth. “No. You keep doing that. But I'm not joining.” he firmly says.

Something switched in him. Reality snapped him. He felt like he was interrupting them, like he wasn't supposed to be here. He was just supposed to watch and not do anything else. Like some pathetic loser watching porn alone. He's never felt like this before. He was always in control during times like this and got whatever he wanted. Now, he just needs to sit here and accept his fate.

He wished she'd pick him more often.

She frowns, managing to turn her head to him. “Why not?” she breathes out.

He looks directly into her eyes, his facial expression turns serious. “I have work to do,” he states, sternly.

Elle huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine. You could just watch. Until your balls fall off, maybe.” she taunts him and Six tries to hide a smile from his lips.

Lloyd scowls at her before remembering an important detail. “You know, Six has work to do too. He needs to do a debrief after this. With the agents, who are going to come in here any second." he informs them and she groans in frustration.

Six sighs heavily, glaring at him. “You didn't bother to remind me earlier?”

He hesitates. “Uh, yeah sorry. I fucking forgot. Literally just remembered.” he honestly says.

She sighs before Six pulls his fingers out from her. “Well, at least you told us before they stormed in here. Wouldn't look good.” she remarks.

Lloyd vaguely nods at her. “You should clean up. I'll order in. Anything you want.”

Elle shakes her head. “No, you choose this time. I'm always the one choosing that I'm running out of the options I know of.” she complains, softly.

He lets out a chuckle. “Because you know more than I do. I don't know shit about the food here. You do.” Lloyd states.

She glares at him before getting off Six's lap. “No, Lloyd, you choose tonight. I mean it. Choose anything you want.” she firmly tells him.

She stands up with her hand braced on his shoulder for support. “If I didn't have my strength, my legs would've collapsed after every night with you both.” she jokes with a cheeky smile.

Six and Lloyd laugh softly at the same time. She glances at between them, admiring how they're somehow always in sync together. They fight in sync, fuck in sync, and protect her in sync. These two are growing closer than they're even aware of. But, she sees it. They have a complicated and messed up bond. They understand each other. They don't fight over her. They share her together, equally and fair.

Six sighs, rising up from his chair. “Alright, I better go before—"

And, the elevator dings as it opens. They really need to set up an alarm for outsiders so they don't just barge in here whenever they want.

One of the agents step out of it and quickly searches for Six. “Hey, boss. Time for that debrief.” he informs him.

Elle and Lloyd look over at agent with a frown. Six starts to walk away from them as he approaches the agent.

“Hey, next time, fucking knock.” Lloyd scowls him, sarcastically.

He tilts his head to the side, confused. “But, how? It's not a door…”

Lloyd scoffs. “Yeah, how, dumbass? Of course by not fucking barging in here. You could've just wait for him. He wouldn't miss a debrief.” he sternly states.

The agent nods, not saying a single word anymore as he avoids eye contact from everyone in the room. He proceeds to turn around and walk to the elevator again.

Six follows him, shooting a quick glance behind while he smoothly winks at her. She knew exactly what that meant. She knows him too well. He's going to finish what he started after all this and not leave her waiting too long. He'll make it worth the wait.

Six always keeps his promises. Only to her.

[abiiors]

been completely obsessing over your mini posts this weekend!!!

more ideas if your up for it!

matty and the gf meeting a fan while they are out for dinner and invitint them to have dinner with them

the gf messing around in the studio but they end up loving it and sampling it on an album

Burgers and Milkshakes

A/N: Thank you so much for reading them, you're really sweet 🥺

I've tweaked the first one a bit so it doesn't get super long and rambly. As for the second one, I truly don't know the first thing about studios and how songs are recorded so I'm gonna have to skip that one unfortunately :(

Still, I hope you enjoy this one!

‘Wanna get some burgers tonight?’ You poke your head inside his home studio, ‘I don’t feel like cooking.’

He looks up from the piano, still not fully registering what you’d just said. ‘Burgers. Tonight,’ you repeat. ‘Unless you feel like cooking.’

He debates it for a second, ‘whatever you want,’ he answers distractedly. He’s so engrossed in his work that you know you’ll have to remind him of this conversation in two hours when it’s tea time. As predicted, he walks into the living room two hours later. 

That’s how you end up at the small burger joint in a bustling part of the city. He’s excited today, you can tell. He chats about the songs he’s been working on, tells you that something you said to him three Wednesdays ago is going to make it into the lyrics, slings a hand over your shoulder as you walk together. 

The burger joint is crowded as usual. Despite being on a small street, it attracts a lot of people in the area. Just to keep up the anonymity, he hangs back and lets you order the food as well as the milkshakes (strawberry for him, vanilla for you). Once the food has been acquired, you find him sitting at a small table in the corner. 

The night air is just cool enough that both of you get away with wearing oversized hoodies. He’s gone one step ahead and added a beanie to hide his curly hair.

When you sit down with your food, he instantly tries to steal some of your chips and you smack his hand away. 

‘Do you or do you not want a sip of my milkshake?’ he challenges.

‘Are you trying to bribe me?’ you challenge back.

That’s exactly how it goes every single time. He inhales his own food in ten seconds and then tries to steal yours. You have already lost count of how many times you’ve bickered like an old married couple over this. 

As you take another sip of your milkshake, you notice him look at something behind you and then lower his head.

‘Uh…’ he leans in a bit closer to you, ‘I think we’ve been spotted.’

Your eyes widen a bit at that, fan interactions have always been a mixed bag but he’s quick to put a hand on yours. 

‘I mean they haven’t approached us or anything yet.’

You scoot your chair a bit so you can get a better look at them without being too obvious about it. And he’s right; it’s two girls who stand, hand in hand, a bit farther away from you. They are very obviously trying not to stare but the taller one of them looks like she’s debating coming over to say hi. 

‘It’s your call, babe,’ you say to him. Both of you only have a few chips and some more milkshakes left plus it’s not like this is some grand dinner at a fancy restaurant. 

‘Are you sure?’ he asks and you nod at him.

‘In fact, why don’t I wave them over?’ you volunteer.

He asks again if you're sure about this. You give him a quick nod, turn around and wave at them. 

The girls, who are still hesitating, seem to freeze when they see you wave. Then both of their smiles break into huge grins and they waste no time in coming over. 

‘Oh my god, I wasn’t sure if I should approach you while you’re eating,’ the shorter one of the two says a bit sheepishly and you tell her it’s no big deal. 

The other girl is still hanging back and it looks like she’s trying to fight the pink tinge making its way up her cheeks. 

‘I’m Allie,’ the shorter girl introduces herself, ‘and this is my girlfriend Mia. We are huge fans of The 1975,’ she grins. 

Both you and Matty introduce yourself and this time Mia laughs, tells you that of course she knows who you are and she’s so happy that she ran into you. ‘We were at the Manchester show, and honestly, it was such a blast!’

Matty looks genuinely happy to hear that and he tells them as much. They shyly ask for photos and he agrees to it happily. You even volunteer to take the photos but they ask you to be in the photos which is a bit surprising. 

‘We were just here to get milkshakes,’ Allie laughs, ‘I didn’t think I’d run into you.’ She holds up their to-go containers and you notice that they are Strawberry and Vanilla—just like yours. 

It’s such a trivial detail but it endears these two girls to you. 

‘It’s been a good night,’ Mia says. She even sincerely thanks both of you. Then the two of them say their goodbyes and leave, hand-in-hand just like they’d come in. 

‘Ah, young love,’ you sigh, ‘bet they don’t try to steal each other’s chips.’ 

He gives you a cheesy little grin and then swipes the last fry anyway.