#just kidding i actually love you all too much

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Very very early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone). Next upload will prob be heavy angst/no smut post-prison spencer (god help me please, i must be a masochist for the way i make myself suffer)

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There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43

an: guys i’m so sorry for the atrocities i’m about to cause by posting this, i’m especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they don’t miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this

summary: for as long as she’s remembered she’s loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesn’t know.

wc: 4.4k

She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fast—kicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didn’t care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.

She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself that’s just what friends did—waited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. She’d never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasn’t familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.

Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what she’d always known—that Franco was going somewhere.

Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldn’t quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasn’t racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream he’d ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Franco saw everything she wasn’t: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies he’d already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didn’t even seem real.

It was this girl—her name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let it—who went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that he’d already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasn’t, but what good would it do?

It was easy to tell herself she was Franco’s friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. She’d learned to wear it like armour—the friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.

No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.

The nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film she’d seen too many times. They were pieces of a person she’d built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t hers. Not really.

Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and she’d been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadn’t seen since they were kids. He’d been invited to join a Formula 1 team—a chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.

And she’d been the first person he told. “I’m in,” Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “I’m actually in.”

He’d pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her too—that she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.

And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road they’d grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.

“So… this is it, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything she’d left unsaid.

Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin she’d fallen in love with a thousand times. “Yeah. This is it.”

There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didn’t, couldn’t. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And that’s exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.

“You’ll be amazing out there,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.

“Thanks,” Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didn’t see her watching him, didn’t notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Because that’s what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.

His first race was in Monza.

And Franco had made sure she’d be there.

The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Franco’s first Formula 1 race, the one he’d been chasing since the days they’d spent on that dusty street back home. He’d called her a week ago, saying he’d arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldn’t feel right without her.

She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if she’d see him. But instead, she saw her—Franco’s girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.

She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as she’d always done. But then Franco’s girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.

“Hi! You’re Franco’s best friend, no?” she said brightly, as if she’d been waiting for this meeting. “Franco’s told me all about you.”

She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfect—too perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girl’s smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasn’t a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.

“You know,” she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. “Franco always talks about how you’ve been there from the start. He says he wouldn’t be here without you.”

It was a sentiment she’d waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. “He’s worked so hard for this. I just… wanted to support him however I could.”

The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That’s really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone who’s known him for so long.” She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. “I think he’s planning to introduce me to his family soon.”

A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. “That’s great,” she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. “That sounds really important to him.”

The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. “Yeah… he said he wanted to wait until we’d been together for a year. He’s so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.” She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. “I think he got that from you—from seeing how much his family means to you.”

It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldn’t. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just… nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.

“Well, his family will love you,” she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. “He deserves to be happy.”

The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knew—if she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.

As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm. “For being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell he’s lucky to have you in his life.”

She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was true—but not in the way she’d once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.

And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stood—at a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.

The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. She’d changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.

The evening had been a whirlwind—Franco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way she’d only ever dreamed of seeing up close. She’d stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.

A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”

“Yeah, just… packing,” she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. “I’ve got an early flight back.”

He frowned, like he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. “I thought you’d stay a bit longer,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “It meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.”

She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. “I’m proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.”

He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. “It’s crazy, right? Like, it still doesn’t feel real.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh—and I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, I’m planning to bring my girlfriend—” he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared room—“back to Argentina. She’s going to meet my family. I think they’ll love her.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Why her?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Why her, Franco?” She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. “Why not me? What is it about me that you don’t find appealing? Am I too loud? Too… different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. “What is it about me that you don’t love, that you love about her?”

For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“Wait—” he started, his voice halting, uncertain. “I… I didn’t know you felt—”

She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. “I loved you first, Franco.”

He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.

“What?” he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.

“I loved you first,” she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didn’t want to cry, not now, not here. “Since we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. I’ve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.”

She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love she’d imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.

He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. “But… I love her.”

The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope she’d held on to.

She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.” She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldn’t contain. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could say—nothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t her.

“I never meant to… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.

“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. “I… I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that I’ve always been here. But now…” She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words she’d held for so long finally running dry.

She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.

When she noticed he still hadn’t left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. “I hope she makes you happy, Franco,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Really. I hope she gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

She looked back down not wanting to catch Franco’s look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.

Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.

It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I almost forgot to mention,” her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, “Franco’s coming back to town soon. Said he’ll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.”

She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since she’d finally let herself say all the things she’d bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like she’d left a part of herself behind.

“Oh,” she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. “That’s… that’s good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.”

Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughter’s casual words. “I thought maybe you’d be excited too,” her mother ventured, her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him.”

She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. “Actually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with Tía Blanca. I’ve been meaning to go see her.”

Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “You can’t keep running from this, mi amor,” she said, her voice tender but firm.

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything she’d been trying so hard to let go of.

“I know I can’t keep running,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. “But I can now. And I can cope with that.”

Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. “Mi amor, one day, you’re going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. It’s the only way to truly move forward.”

She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Franco’s words—But I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.

“Maybe one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to be—far from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. “Then go,” she said, with a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldn’t say, she only hoped her mother was right.

A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her aunt’s place.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted it—Franco’s car, parked at the edge of the drive.

Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, “No, no, no… please, not now.” She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.

“Oye, there you are!” he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I was hoping I’d run into you before you left. It’s been too long.”

She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. “Yeah, well, I’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasks—closing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.

He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone softening. “You… you didn’t answer my calls after Monza. I didn’t know if… I just wanted to see you.”

She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. “That’s great, Franco,” she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. “But I really should get going.”

“Wait—” He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. “Can we talk? Please?”

But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldn’t bear to stay, couldn’t bear to let him see her break again. “Take care, Franco,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.

Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.

But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of him—their childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.

Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images she’d tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams they’d both carried.

She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where they’d been inseparable, a past where she hadn’t yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy she’d known, before life had pulled them down different paths.

By the time she reached her aunt’s building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the city’s pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.

Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.

“¡Mira! Is that really you?”

She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she remembered—warm and solid.

“Angelo!” She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.

He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. “Let me help. You’re here for a visit?”

“Just two weeks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain she’d left behind.

“Well, then,” he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, “we’ve got time to catch up.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.

She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her aunt’s door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.

The door opened before they could knock, her aunt’s familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are, mi niña!” She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. “And look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, you’re a sweetheart.”

He grinned, shrugging. “Anything for your family, señora.”

They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if she’d left more than just a town behind—she’d left the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.

Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.

to be continued…?

[thumperdaetime]

the music is punk because it challenges the norm. the clothing is punk because it challenges the norm. the politics are punk because they challenge the norm. it's not a sound, or a look, or a book, or a slogan. it's a way of thinking that puts radical acceptance and relentless pursuit of joy, face to face with a world that wants you dead. you can't put a price on it. the disabled woman that says "fuck it people know I can't hold my blatter anyway. I don't care if they can tell I'm wearing the rehab-provided brief. Get me my bright lipstick I'm going to bingo!" is flexing the same muscles as the suburban white boy who steals eyeliner from his conservative mother. they are both people using identity, to create joy and signal comradery in lonely times, reputation be damned.

not to mention, all of the clothes I have been able to afford new when I was in my poorest moments were shit quality anyway. anything you can do to extend the lifespan of a physical object that was made under the modern fast fashion system past "thrown out, unsold at the store" is a win. in the same way that any pressure you can keep against an actively bleeding wound is a win. cloths are a common class of tools we use to help regulate our comfort, with that is with the temperature or our cave-mates. if the clothes make you feel uncomfortable they are already useless. it is already trash. why not try anything to see if it works? there are intelligent capable people across the centuries who died dreaming of what to do with once gorgeous expensive trendy fabric, that will now look dated and trashy outside of "the spring of '32 when i fell in love with jazz." or whatever the kids are into these days. the stupid walmart blazer you took a chance on 2 years ago but now feel "too X to wear" is no different. either you trash it now, or live with that trash in your home until your kids do it for you, while crying about how they always thought you looked good in that color. you might as well see if there's enough fabric to re-make that halter top you loved in college. when it looks homemade you get to boast and explain all about how you're trying to make shit better in little ways. and who cares if it fails? Aren't you deserving of a little petty violence? when the last time you really didn't give a shit about seam Ripping and just went to town? don't you want to be able to yell at something with no moral consequences? so much in this world is complicated and nuanced and requires forethought and responsibility. Wouldn't it feel nice to have a hobby that lets you get reasonably angry at evil fabric for not doing the thing, and then you can just throw it and swear, and then never have to think about it again. because it doesn't matter. it was already cheep plastic made to feed a system that would rather watch the world burn than lose a shareholder. you eat credit cards a year. you can not hurt wasted disposable plastic more than it will hurt you.

and then if it works you have a cute top to wear around places to show you are the kind of person who has cool tops! and help you ease people into the idea that a political movements starts with people deciding what things they inherited they actually want to keep around. and then maybe one day you cut apart and re-make out of nice quality fabric, with the mistakes you learned from the first one. so you can weaponize your ability to present yourself as ""respectable"" when you have to play the politics game in big official ways.

or (imagine this) you can even use your new knowledge of what types of edits you often make to clothing to buy a quality garment that will be more worth investing in. Ones that are made in ways that add value to their communities will feel good on your body from day one, and you can be mened and adapt in ways that may let it outlive you.

or maybe you elevate that shity, guilt ridden- shirt out of the gym lost and found on the last day of freshman year, because "fuck it- I liked that middle-school library fit. and Its a size too small but I'm bound to get thinner eventually. and I don't think its actually stealing if no one else wants it." Maybe if you make it into a statement piece scrap in your favorite "look I'm not happy about it either!" outfit, to show that you want to fuck with the systems in a "hey we should still have A Library tho right?" sort of way. you might run into the middle school girl who gets to break the ice with a fellow "cool garment person" friend. and she gets to laugh about your shirt deadnaming her. and you get to apologize and offer to let her sign something over it. and now you are advertising the formative art of a local queer-punk-artisan who you know is also out there trying her best to make the shitty stuff a little less shitty when they can, even if it means learning how to thread a sewing machine.... eventually.... hopefully.

also, as a person who has spent about a decade trying to figure out ways to keep kids of all ages informed and prepared and enriched on a budget. "Tug of War turned tie-dye Party" would of been a smash hit, my queer and rural in the 90's type parents would have loved it. after growing up with Halloweens filled with pieced-together costumes that made room for sensory issues and accessibility aids. and family "vacations" taken on public land with what's left of the food stamps. i think there is definitely a market for how to teach your children the fundamentals of serving in a world that might find their misery profitable. without like... terrafing them.

imagine how much easier alot of it would have been if someone early in your life had sat you down and said "ok. a lot of times things are going to be bad and unfair and evil. and there's going to be complicated reasons you cant do much about it but feel bad. but if you feel bad all the time it will only get worse. so what you can do is take what is around you, figure out what it is and how it works and why it's there, and then break it in ways that are meaningful and delibrite. and re-shape it to help the actual people who are trying survive."

then they showed you and all of your little friends how to research, what fabric is and understand why you bought supplies, and then get their hands dirty testing how strong it is, and why jeans have rivets even when you want to sew right there. and re-asure them that it's ok you paved the way to make sure they can't hurt anything too bad even if they are really really bad at it. and then let them find joy and pride in making something unique and custom with their own tools for the cost of cleaning out a closet, and some rite dye.

and then the community has a couple new little baby punks making decent folks smile with little bold fashion statements, and turning heads when they experiment with which parts of society they want to bring into the new age. tl;dr: I think we need to start telling the “I’m too poor to dress punk” crowd that they’re posers. -polyamorouspunk, November 2024, tumbr.com

I think we need to start telling the “I’m too poor to dress punk” crowd that they’re posers.

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 4

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 5.3k

c/w - language, small amount of angst, some hurt/comfort. also kinda problematic paige but i get her

a/n - guess who’s endo cramps are killing her!! that’s right, me! fml. as usual this is unedited but i’ll come back to edit later! also, i changed paige’s step-dad’s name from tim to dean because i remembered that azzi’s dad is named tim and i felt like that would be confusing lol. also, thank you so much for all the fic recs i got! i’m so excited to start working on them :3

They’re ten minutes into the thirty-minute car ride and nobody has said a word. Country music is playing quietly over the radio, and Dean and Amy keep glancing at each other. But the awkward silence is deadly.

Nobody spoke earlier, either. After Paige dropped the bomb. It was silent for a good minute before Dean had coughed loudly and turned back to the car, getting wordlessly into the driver’s seat. Amy stared at them for another minute or so, giving them no clue as to what was going on in her head other than her ears, which rapidly turned bright red. Finally, she’d shook her head and said, “We will talk about this when we get home,” before following her husband into the car.

As soon as they were both out of hearing range, Paige had sagged, and Azzi’d looked over at her, concerned. Usually, she’d lay a hand on her arm but she wasn’t sure if Paige wanted to be touched, especially by her, so instead she’d said, “Remember, we can leave anytime.”

Paige had nodded stiffly. And then, without looking at Azzi, she’d gotten into the car as well, leaving the door open for Azzi to follow suit.

And now they’re on the road, Paige and Azzi sitting in the back seat like two little kids in trouble. Azzi wants to go on her phone to avoid the awkwardness but her parents raised her to be polite, no matter the circumstances, so here she sits, stiff and awkward while she rides in this car that smells new and fancy and she hates it.

Chancing a glance over, Azzi sees that Paige is still staring out the window, the same thing she’s been doing the whole car ride, and Azzi hates that, too, because Paige only ever gets quiet when she’s bone-tired or truly upset. And Paige got a pretty good nap on the plane.

Based off the way she acted to Azzi’s words before they got on the road, Azzi’s pretty sure she’s doing that thing where she shuts people out because she’s mad or on the verge of tears or thinking too hard. And when she does this she can get mean, because she’s trying to protect herself, and it comes out all wrong.

She’s always done this, been reluctant to open up about the hard stuff, shut out the people who care about her. She and Azzi have talked about it a lot. She once admitted that Azzi was the first person to get her to actually talk about her feelings. But despite Azzi’s way with Paige, and despite the fact that they just get each other in a way no one else ever has, they still have their flaws. Azzi still doesn’t always know the right thing to say. And Paige still gets mean.

This fact keeps Azzi glued to her seat, thinking sidling closer and trying to comfort her best friend would only end badly. Azzi acts like she has a tough skin but often, the things Paige says when she gets like this cut deep, and it ends with both of them hurt. She’s scared to add a fight between the two of them onto whatever will surely go on with Paige and her parents later. So she stays put, even though every bone in her body is telling her to make Paige better.

Azzi has only managed this for maybe five minutes when she glances over again and notices that this time, Paige’s hand is splayed over the middle seat, fingers tapping anxiously, almost like she’s subconsciously reaching over. And that sight alone is enough to get Azzi sliding over, moving Paige’s hand so she doesn’t sit on it. Dean looks at her through the rearview, but Azzi pretends not to notice.

Paige doesn’t look over when Azzi settles in beside her. But she does reach blindly for her hand before taking it and placing it in her own lap, playing with the fingers nervously. Azzi breathes in relief. Paige hasn’t rejected her outright—she can’t be too upset. At least not yet.

They sit like that for the remainder of the ride.

When they pull into the driveway, Paige gives Azzi’s hand a squeeze before subtly shaking herself out and exiting the car. Azzi follows, afraid to be alone with Paige’s parents for even a second.

Before Paige can close the door, Amy calls, “Bring your bags into your room, Paige. And when you’re done come down and talk to us in the kitchen.” There’s a weighted pause. “Alone.”

Paige doesn’t answer, just slams the door shut. Azzi winces.

Azzi doesn’t say anything while Paige opens the trunk, or when she starts aggressively pulling their things out, or even when she slams the trunk shut. No, Azzi keeps her mouth shut, wanting to allow her best friend to seethe in peace, but when Paige slams into her shoulder when she passes her, Azzi doesn’t want to let it slide. “Ow! Paige, what the fuck?”

“Get your bags,” Paige responds gruffly.

Okay, so it’s gonna be one of those times. Perfect.

Despite not wanting to, Azzi does as she’s told, gathering her bags and following Paige to the front porch. She tries not to think about how usually Paige would’ve carried her things for her.

Paige opens the door without a word and they walk inside. The house is nice, open, smells of cedarwood. Paige doesn’t give Azzi a chance to look around, though, instead walking briskly to the staircase, lugging her shit upstairs with impressive strength, and Azzi thanks God she’s in such good shape because she’s practically jogging by the time they arrive at a room at the end of the hall.

“Paige—“ Azzi starts to stay, but Paige cuts her off by throwing her own backpack off her shoulder and dropping her suitcases, as if she’s trying her hardest to make as much a ruckus as possible.

Azzi places her things much more nicely on her usual side of the bed, eyeing Paige cautiously the entire time. It’s the only reason she’s able to catch her before she leaves, anticipating her movements just like she does on the court and darting between her best friend and the door, blocking her.

For the first time in nearly an hour, Paige looks her in the eye, and there’s fire there. “Move, Azzi.”

“No.”

“God,” Paige sighs, “seriously, don’t piss me off. Get outta my way.”

“No, Paige,” Azzi repeats, keeping her feet planted.

Paige stares at her and then shakes her head. “Why are you being so fuckin’ annoying?”

“Don’t,” Azzi says, trying to stop her before she gets too fired up, but it’s already started.

“No, Azzi, you don’t,” Paige snaps. “I knew you were gonna get like this, do your fuckin’ peace and love shit that you think will solve everyone’s fucking problems.”

Azzi swallows hard. It’s been years since Paige went on a rampage like this, and she opens her mouth to stop her, but is quickly interrupted.

“It doesn’t solve anything, dawg. It actually makes shit worse, because it’s so motherfucking annoying having you acting like everything’s fine when you don’t even know.” Paige shakes her head, taking a step towards her. “And that’s the thing, is you really don’t know but you wanna pretend like you do. You don’t know what it’s like to have your mom fuckin’ leave you for some fuckass guy, for her to have new kids outta state and raise them to be hateful just like her. Just like him.”

At this point, Azzi has tears in her eyes, and she attempts desperately to swallow them down. “Did you forget that my dad fucking left me when I was a baby? I’ve never even fucking talked to him, Paige. He doesn’t want shit to do with me.”

“That’s not the same and you know it.” Paige sends her a withering glare, so different from the way she usually looks at Azzi. “You have Tim. You have your mom and your brothers and they all love you so fucking much.”

“You have your dad!” Azzi responds, throwing her hands in the air. “You have Drew, you have Alora!” A tear escapes, against her will, and she wipes it furiously away. “You have me, Paige,” she says, more quietly now. “I love you so fucking much. So you don’t get to take this shit out on me and say mean things to hurt my feelings. That’s not—it’s not fair.”

As soon as she sees the tears welling in Azzi’s eyes, Paige softens, her shoulders slumping, eyes turning on her with guilt rather than venom. “Az, don’t cry.”

For some reason, this makes Azzi more mad, and she turns away to face the door, always having hated crying in front of others. “Well if you say mean shit to me, I’m gonna cry, Paige,” she mumbles, though there’s not much fire to her weak, shaky tone.

“Hey, no, you’re right,” Paige reaches for Azzi’s shoulder, trying to turn her around, but the tears have started now and they’re not going to stop anytime soon so Azzi stays turned firmly away. “Azzi, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ Paige cuts herself off on a sigh. Her hand falls off Azzi’s shoulder, and for a second Azzi thinks she’s going to walk away, but then a pair of arms wrap tenderly around her waist and Paige’s chin is wresting on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I was wrong for that, I shouldnt’ve said any of that shit.” When Azzi doesn’t respond, instead burying her face in her hands to try and hide what she’s sure is an ugly cry, Paige squeezes her tighter. “Azzi, please don’t cry, I’m really sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry, for real. I didn’t mean any of it, I was just so scared about my parents and I took it out on you, I fucked up.”

Azzi nods into her hands, taking a deep breath to try and stop the embarrassing flow of emotion. “I know, Paige,” she tries, but it comes out sort of as a whimper and this only makes Paige circle around to stand in front of her, full-on hugging her now, burying her face in her neck and rubbing her back soothingly.

They’re silent for another moment before Paige says, “I’m serious, Az. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Azzi knows this, fundamentally, but there’s still a part of her that sort of cracked at hearing her best friend tell her that she was annoying, that her efforts to help always fall flat. “You shouldn’t have said it, then,” she stutters, letting Paige hold her close even as her face doesn’t come out of its hiding spot.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have. You’re the only person who can ever make me feel better and I—fuck. Azzi, I’m sorry, I can’t believe—I never wanna hurt you.” Paige lifts her head out of her neck to nuzzle into Azzi’s hair, pressing a kiss to the spot just behind her ear. “Never wanna make you cry.” She plants another kiss there, and Azzi’s breath hitches. From the crying or from something else, she doesn’t know.

Sighing shakily, Azzi finally pulls her head out of her hands to look up at Paige, placing her hands at her chest almost as if she’s about to push her away. She’s sure her mascara is ruined by now but she can’t bring herself to care too much. “It really hurt when you shoved me outside, too.”

A pained expression flits over Paige’s face, and she nods, looking almost sick. “Fuck. I’m—I’m sorry, Azzi. I’m so sorry. Is your arm okay? Does it still hurt?”

Azzi can’t take the guilty look on Paige’s face and shakes her head no. It doesn’t seem to relieve much of anything.

Breathing deeply, Paige closes her eyes and then leans her forehead against Azzi’s, bringing her hands up from her waist to stroke over her tear-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispers, and Azzi’s knows that the nickname wasn’t a slip-up this time, wasn’t just a habit from their pretending. “I’m really fuckin’ sorry.”

And with that, Azzi isn’t mad anymore. Her feelings are still hurt and the things Paige said are still going to replay in her head for quite some time, but at least for now, Azzi just can’t be mad. Because Paige is going through something she could never imagine going through.

“I’m sorry, too,” Azzi breathes, and Paige rears back, but before she can protest, Azzi says, “about your parents. About this whole…situation.” She looks down at her hands on Paige’s chest, and, deciding she won’t be needing to push her away anymore, she slides them up to her shoulders. “It’s shitty and you’re right, I don’t know what it’s like to be in your position.” She shrugs, swallowing back the last couple tears that threaten to fall, trying to regain at least some of her composure. “I’m going to be here for you, okay? I always am.”

Paige nods. “I know you will.”

“And that means,” Azzi goes on, “you can’t do this again. You can’t take it out on me. You can’t push me away. Because that makes it really fucking hard for me to help you, and I want to help you.”

Paige nods again, more solemnly this time, moving her hands back to circle her waist. “Yeah, yeah, I know, and I’m so sorry for—“

Azzi holds a hand up to Paige’s lips, effectively shutting her up. “Okay, stop. I accept your apology, I promise. Just, show me you’re sorry and don’t do it again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paige says. “‘Course.”

“Good.” Breathing mostly even now, Azzi pulls Paige in for another hug.

With a heavy sigh, Paige hugs her back. “We’re in it together, hm? From now on, together.”

Azzi rests her cheek on Paige’s shoulder, the weight of her arms around her, the feeling of her skin and bones, so familiar. “Yeah. Together.”

Paige pulls back just enough to look at her, and when Azzi reciprocates, she’s uneasy to find that Paige is giving her that same new look. The perplexed, maybe enthralled?, almost worried look that has taken over her face more often than can be explained ever since the first time after their kiss. Azzi really wants to work out what it means.

But, as always, Paige corrects herself and it’s gone as fast as it arrived. “We’re good?”

Azzi nods, smiling softly despite herself. “Yeah, P. We’re good.”

—————————————

Paige has been downstairs with her parents for nearly an hour.

From what Azzi can hear from her spot at the top of the stairs, it doesn’t sound to be going too well. The three of them keep going from yelling to whisper-yelling to yelling again, and Azzi swears Amy has cried like five times at this point.

When Azzi hears Dean say, “We just don’t allow sinners in this house, Paige,” and Paige snap back, “Do not use God against me right now!” Azzi figures it might be time to intervene.

Trying to come up with something quickly, she pulls out her phone and dials Paige’s number. She hears Paige’s phone ring downstairs, and the three of them go quiet before Paige says, “Just—one second,” and then there’s a click on the other line and she’s answering. “Um, hi?”

“Pretend I’m your dad,” Azzi says, hoping she’s not on speaker.

“What?”

“Just pretend I’m your dad, Paige. Seriously.”

“Uh, okay.” The line gets a little muffled and Paige says, “It’s dad.” Azzi can hear both Amy and Dean let out audible groans downstairs.

“Okay, now tell them that I—your dad—am offering to fly you home.”

“I…wha—“ Azzi can tell Paige wants to argue but can’t with her parents right in front of her, so instead she sighs and the line goes muffled again. “He’s, um, he’s offering to fly me home.”

Azzi only has a second to hope and pray that Amy shares Paige’s competitive nature before Amy is saying, “What? You told him about this?”

“No,” Paige answers, “he just knows how you’re like now. And he wants Azzi and I to have a good summer, not a shitty one with shitty people.”

“If you want to go back to your dad’s, go,” Dean says, and Azzi’s heart sinks. Maybe this won’t work.

But then, bless her evil, horrible soul, Amy is stepping in. “No. Absolutely not. I will never hear the end of it if we send you to your father after inviting you over. We just…” Amy sighs, and Azzi thinks she can hear her start crying again. “We want what’s best for you, Paige.”

It’s silent for a moment. And then, “Let me be happy, Mom. Let me see my siblings. Let me and my girlfriend have a good trip with y’all.”

Dean interjects. “We really don’t believe in this kind of stuff.”

“I don’t care,” Paige replies viciously. “I love Azzi. It doesn’t matter that she’s a fuckin’ girl. I…” Paige pauses, quite abruptly, and Azzi wonders if something happened. But then she hears a heavy inhalation and a quiet, “I love her, Mom.”

Azzi knows it’s for the act, but she can’t help the way her stomach somersaults, hearing the words she’s always wished Paige would say.

“And it doesn’t matter what you think of it,” Paige continues. “I’m happy. My faith is strong. And what goes on between me and God isn’t your fucking business.”

“Language,” Amy says immediately. But then it’s silent for another weighted moment and Azzi can imagine Amy and Dean sharing that knowing, judgmental look of theirs. Her heart races while she waits for a consensus, and she’s sure it’s 100 times worse for Paige. But after a few moments, Amy says, “Tell your father that you’re staying here with us. Your siblings will be home tomorrow morning. The four of us adults have a reservation at a restaurant tonight, and we’re all going to go.”

“Mom—“

“We will try,” Amy sighs. “Azzi’s a nice girl. We will—we’ll try.” There’s something tired in her voice when she says, “Right, Dean?”

No answer. But Azzi can imagine him nodding gruffly, and a moment later, with no more words from any of them, Paige appears at the bottom of the stairs. She startles a little when she sees Azzi sitting there at the top.

“Hi,” Azzi says sheepishly, finally disconnecting their call. “I was eavesdropping.”

Paige stares at her, and then starts climbing the stairs, a small smile overtaking their face. “Thanks for saving me.”

“I told you I would,” Azzi replies, waiting for Paige at the top. “So. Dinner with your parents tonight.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Paige gets to the second-top step and stays there, so she’s just a little shorter than Azzi.

“Dinner as a fake lesbian couple with your homophobic parents,” Azzi clarifies, and Paige laughs nervously.

“Uh-huh,” she responds. “I think we needa nap before that.”

“Oh, yeah,” Azzi agrees, pulling Paige up to stand with her. “That is an amazing idea.”

——————————————

Azzi is rudely awoken to none other than an old Tyler, The Creator song blasting through the tinny speakers of Paige’s phone. Azzi groans, and she blindly reaches out for Paige to turn the damn thing off, but her hands only find cold bedsheets. Annoyed, Azzi cracks her eyes open and tries desperately to find Paige’s phone, realizing in the process that Paige’s side of the bed is cold. Strange, considering they still have two hours until dinner.

Finally, after probably thirty seconds of this stupid song playing over and over again, Azzi finds the phone tangled up in the bedsheets and slams the off button. It’s sort of pointless, though, because now she’s very much awake and will not be going back to bed.

She sits up in Paige’s bed, rubbing her eyes and looking around the room. The sun is shining through the curtains, reflecting off the mirror above the vanity and showcasing the off-white walls, the pink door to the adjoining bathroom—which Azzi now realizes is in use, the sound of the shower muffled through the door. She hadn’t noticed before because Paige isn’t awfully singing to some Mariah Carey song. Other than the water, it’s dead quiet in there. She must be nervous.

Fiddling with the pink sheets, Azzi feels nervous, too. Usually, merely being in Paige’s space comforts her, but this room—it doesn’t feel like Paige. It doesn’t smell like her, and it’s too pink. There’s no purple at all, actually. And the vanity—Paige has never known how to do much else other than mascara. In high school, she needed Azzi to tell her what concealer was for, and to teach her how to curl her lashes. She certainly wouldn’t have use for an entire vanity dedicated to makeup. The walls are also decorated with cringy, sort of Bible-thumping quotes and paintings of flowers. There’s not a single basketball poster.

No, this room isn’t Paige at all and Azzi feels an ache in her heart, thinking about how out-of-place she must have felt whenever she came to visit as a kid. How out-of-place she must feel now.

Without Paige to talk to, and without her room to comfort her, Azzi settles for laying on Paige’s side of the bed, burying her face in the blankets, and there she is—vanilla, like her hair products, and lavender, like the lotion she wears and the linen spray she uses, because it calms her down.

Azzi thinks she just might fall back asleep, enveloped in Paige’s scent, but then the door to the bathroom opens and steam billows out just before Paige does, wrapped in a towel, hair wet down her shoulders. Azzi only has a second to ogle the water drops adorning Paige’s collarbones before she’s spotted, and Paige gives her a curious look. “You still sleep? I left my phone here so the alarm would wake you up.”

“Yeah, no, it did,” Azzi says, sitting up quickly, before she looks like a weirdo snuggling up in Paige’s spot. “Just tryin’ to hype myself up for dinner.”

Paige gives her a commiserating look. “Me too. I’m shitting my pants, for real.”

“That why you couldn’t sleep?” Azzi asks, stretching out her back and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Paige hums, bending down to rifle around in her suitcase. “I’on even know what to wear. Apparently it’s some fancy restaurant but I’m not wearing a fucking dress.”

Azzi laughs at that, lifting her hands when Paige shoots a glare over her shoulder. “I’m serious, dawg! And it’s not like I brought a suit or nothing.”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” Azzi says, standing up. “Just wear jeans and tuck a t-shirt or something. You’ll look cute no matter what.”

Paige straights up and gives her a cocky grin. “You think all that?”

“Chill, P,” Azzi rolls her eyes, shoving Paige’s shoulder a little.

“What were you doing on my side of the bed, anyway?” Paige asks, and Azzi can’t help the way she freezes. She’d thought Paige hadn’t noticed.

Trying to cover her reaction, she shrugs casually. “I didn’t know you owned the right side of the bed.”

“Nah, we’ve always had our sides,” Paige shakes her head, taking a step closer. “Why was you all cuddled up in mine?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Azzi says, trying for sarcastic but she can’t even really make eye contact, “maybe I rolled over or something.”

“Please. You don’t move in your sleep.”

“Maybe I do. You don’t know.”

“I think I’ve slept with you more often than I’ve slept alone,” Paige scoffs, taking a step even closer so that they’re practically chest-to-chest. “I know damn well.”

“Okay, seriously,” Azzi says, taking a small step back and stumbling when her thighs hit the bed, “go get dressed, you weirdo.”

“Mm,” Paige says, pretending to think about it. But before Azzi can move away, she grabs her waist and they both fall onto the bed while Paige starts to tickle her like crazy.

“Paige!” Azzi screams, laughing so hard she almost can’t breathe. “Get—off, oh my God!”

Paige is laughing right along with her, and it’s a miracle her towel hasn’t dropped yet. “Tell me the truth!”

“What the…” Azzi giggles and squeals when Paige goes for her armpit, “fuck!”

“I won’t stop ‘till you admit it!”

“Okay, fuck, okay!” Azzi pushes Paige off her, and Paige lets up just enough for her to gasp and say, “It smelled like you, okay? The sheets, they…” Paige has stopped completely now, staring at her with a shit-eating grin on her stupid face, “they smell like you.”

“Uh-huh,” Paige replies, “and you missed me so much while I was in the shower that you needed to smell my sheets?” She jabs her one more time in the ribs, making Azzi shriek, before rolling off her. “You lil creep.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Azzi insists, even though that’s exactly what it was like. “Now, seriously, go get dressed. You got me all wet.”

What Azzi means by that, of course, is that Paige’s damp towel and sopping hair had transferred to Azzi’s own clothes and hair. But Paige can’t be normal about anything, so she looks over and grins slyly.

“Don’t,” Azzi sighs.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Paige says, sitting up in bed and pulling Azzi up with her. “You don’t gotta be embarrassed. I know I make a lotta girls wet.”

“Stop being weird,” Azzi says, as Paige bends down once again to pull an outfit from her suitcase.

She begins walking back to the bathroom. “I’m not the one who gets turned on by tickling,” Paige calls over her shoulder. Just before she closes the bathroom door behind her, she says, “Don’t worry, we can take care of you after dinner, mama,” and winks at her.

Azzi’s shoe hits the door just as it clicks shut.

—————————————

They drive to the restaurant in silence.

It’s similar to their car ride from the airport, though it is a little less tense than before. Paige isn’t fidgeting too much beside her and her parents aren’t giving each other looks the entire time. That’s gotta be a good sign.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Amy and Dean start chatting idly, Paige and Azzi trailing behind when they walk inside the fancy building and give the hostess their reservation.

It’s only when they’re finally seated that they are addressed.

“So, girls,” Amy says, her voice all forced cheerfulness, “what looks good?”

“I dunno,” Paige mumbles, and Azzi kicks her under the table before saying, “Have you guys ever been here before?”

Amy looks a little startled at Azzi’s voice, but she recovers quickly, looking over at Dean with a forced smile. “Oh, yeah, we come here sometimes.”

Azzi smiles politely. “What do you suggest, then?”

“Um,” Amy says, and then she sort of jerks and Dean winces, and Azzi’s sure Amy has also just kicked him under the table.

Apparently well-trained, he speaks immediately. “We love the spinach ricotta.”

Azzi hums, then nudges Paige. “That sounds good, right?”

“Uh…” Paige looks like she wants to be difficult, but then she sees the warning stare Azzi is giving her and straightens up a little, “yeah, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Wanna share?”

Paige sighs, but luckily it’s barely audible. “Yeah, sure. Let’s share.”

Azzi leaves herself out of the conversation after that, letting Paige answer her parents’ conversation starters. When the waitress comes to take their orders, Paige gets a glass of wine for the both of them. Neither of them really like wine, but it seems classy enough and it might take the edge off just enough that they can actually get through the night unscathed.

It’s not until their dinner arrives that Azzi is addressed again.

“So, Azzi,” Dean says, out of nowhere, “How’s the knee?”

Azzi’s hand goes subconsciously to her surgery scars. “Doing better. PT’s been going good.”

“Good, good.” He leans back in his seat, and Azzi senses trouble. Something about the way Paige protectively rests her arm across the back of Azzi’s seat makes her think she senses it, too.

“You get injured a lot, huh?” He asks.

Azzi sort of hates the way her face gets hot, hoping it doesn’t show up on her brown skin. “I’ve torn my ACL twice, yeah.”

“And your meniscus, right?” he prods.

Without really noticing it, Azzi looks over to Paige, and that’s apparently all Paige needs to jump in. “Hey, let’s not talk about it.”

“Why not?” Dean asks, scoffing. Amy is looking between the three of them nervously. “It’s hard not to talk about. Azzi, you don’t even play basketball at this point.”

“Um,” Azzi replies, her instincts telling her to get hot-headed but with the way Paige is buzzing beside her, she’s gonna need to keep her cool.

“What the hell?” Paige says, her hand going from the chair to Azzi’s shoulder. She looks at Amy. “Mom, you said this wouldn’t happen.”

“Your father is just asking a few questions—“

“He’s not my fucking dad!” Paige exclaims, and Azzi jerks as she’s pulled into Paige’s side. “I already have a dad! He raised me, he loves me, Mom, and he’d never say this shit about Azzi.” Angrily, Paige stands up, tossing a few bills onto the counter and helping Azzi to stand beside her.

“Sweetheart,” Amy says, reaching limply for her daughter while Dean sits beside her looking far too smug. “Paige, where are you going? We’re your ride.”

“We’ll Uber,” Paige responds, wrapping an arm around Azzi’s waist. “I’m not gonna make her sit through your bullshit because you don’t know how to act like a decent fucking human being.”

“He was just asking—,” Any starts, sounding exasperated, but Paige cuts her off.

“You know what he was doing.” She glares at Dean, who shakes his head, smirking. “We’ll go back to the house,” she sneers. “But if this doesn’t change by tomorrow we’re leaving.”

And with that, she takes Azzi hands and leads them both out into the night.

—————————————

Paige keeps it together until they get to the house.

As soon as they’re stepping through the door, she turns away from Azzi and leans down to untie her shoes. Azzi does the same, but she doesn’t miss the sniffling sounds coming from her best friend.

Paige refuses to look at her when they start heading upstairs, and she tries to make a beeline for the bathroom once they close her bedroom door shut behind them. But Azzi stops her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “P?”

Another sniffle. And then a quick wipe at her face before she’s turning around, trying to look nonchalant but her eyes are red and her lip is trembling. “Yeah?”

“Paige,” Azzi says softly, and Paige crumbles, hands coming up to her face as she starts crying.

Azzi steps forward to hug her, pulling her down to hide in her chest. “I’m sorry, P. I’m so sorry, this—this sucks.”

“I’m sorry,” Paige replies, voice all small and muffled in a way that makes Azzi’s heart hurt. “I thought they were gonna try…I wouldn’t have taken you out with them if I knew…”

“Hey, it’s all good,” Azzi responds, running a hand through Paige’s hair. “I didn’t mind, really. I’ve heard worse.”

This is apparently the wrong thing to say, because Paige just cries harder. “Fuck, Az, you shouldn’t have to do this.” She lifts her head up to look at her, and Azzi absently wipes her face. “This sucks. It’s the first week of summer and I—I was shitty to you and now my parents, and I—“

“Paige,” Azzi says sternly. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I couldn’t handle it. I can handle it. It’s you that I’m worried about.”

Paige nods, sniffling again. “You don’t gotta worry. I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not fine, P,” Azzi says, and Paige winces, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.

“I’m okay,” Paige insists. “Really. As long as we do this together, I’m okay.”

She straightens up like she’s steeling herself, and Azzi thinks maybe she should do the same.

This is only the first day of their two-week stay.

It’s going to be a long trip.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa

[dadvans]

Your latest ficlet is so good… I can’t stop thinking about Tommy having to tell Buck about their 10 year old, it’s delicious

(part one)

There really isn’t much cool to do in Ukiah. Buck told Tommy this and he could hear Tommy rolling his eyes over the phone the way he said, “Buck, we live in Tehama, she’ll cope,” and then Tommy had said, “we can all go to a park, you can kill me and they’ll never find the body, it’ll be a great way for you two to bond.”

So, just before noon on a Saturday morning one month after the CFCA, Buck sees his daughter for the first time in person, watches her as she practically dislocates Tommy’s arm as they enter his favorite coffee shop and she bounces right up to the counter, braids swinging. It’s quiet, morning rush over and lunch rush yet to come, so he hears Tommy say, “you can have one flavor.” He hears his daughter’s voice for the first time when she leans on the butcher block counter top, smiling, and says, “a white hot chocolate with raspberry, please,” like she’s getting away with murder.

“That’s a small,” Tommy says, “and a medium drip, thanks. For here.”

“With whipped cream,” their daughter adds.

“None for me,” Tommy says, as if automatic. Like they’ve done this a hundred times. Maybe they have. He digs out his credit card and taps it against the register screen before he actually looks up and around to spot Buck sitting in the far corner. He nods. Buck raises a tentative hand, gives a small wave, and then Tommy is leaning down and getting their daughter’s attention, pointing him out.

She skips over while Tommy waits at the counter.

Buck wants to puke.

“Hi,” she says, and she reaches out a hand like she’s a little adult. “I’m Mary.”

“Nice to meet you, Mary,” Buck says, by some miracle finding his voice. He shakes her hand. “I’m uh, I’m Buck.”

“Daddy said your name is Evan,” Mary says, letting go and sitting down.

“Oh, yeah, Buck’s just my nickname. It’s what my friends call me. So, you can call me Buck too.

“Evan’s my middle name,” she continues, as if she didn’t hear or care. His daughter. “Mary Evan. Evan’s usually a boy’s name, but girls can be named Evan too. Like Evan Rachel Wood. She’s the mom in Frozen Two.”

“Yeah,” Buck says weakly. He didn’t know that, even if Jee made him watch everything Frozen before she hit high school. “My niece used to love that movie.”

Tommy walks over to join them, two mugs on little plates in hand. The smaller one has a mountain of whipped cream, sprinkles, and a straw.

“Here’s your cup of sugar, kid,” he says, sliding it in front of Mary before sitting down with his own. He takes a sip and gives an approving nod. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, I like this place,” Buck says, trying to keep his tone even. “They roast their own beans, so my house gets their coffee from here.”

“That must make you popular,” Tommy says, voice wry but not unkind, “Chief.”

“Daddy says you’re a Chief that doesn’t fly helicopters but still fights fires,” Mary says. The table shakes a little, because she’s kicking her feet.

“Uh, yup, just a boring, regular firefighter,” he replies. He can’t stop looking at her. Even with her braids she’s got frizz coming out from underneath her beanie bright red, redder than he was when he was her age but without ever seeing a picture of Tommy as a kid he’s sure she gets it from him. Her eyes are blue like the Pacific Ocean, murky and deep. She’s wearing a puffer vest and long sleeves even though it’s late September. Tommy always ran cold too, he remembers, thinking of the one summer they shared together.

“That’s not boring,” Mary tells him, so serious, before taking a sip of her drink. “I like engines more than helicopters. Did you know helicopters have a thirty-percent higher chance of crashing than planes? I’m learning percentages in school.”

His heart bursts. Yeah. She’s his fucking kid.

[redvexillum]

Me: Alrighty-ho! Time to work on my grossly late fraugwinska's DBD x HH event and @6esiree's contest!

Me, completely a sub to my desires despite having zero experience writing a lucifer x reader fic: This is gonna be a quick, dirty, SHORT one shot. No problem-o! *nearly 5000 words later* fhuck.

TAGS/WARNINGS: vexi's brain rot, p in v, cunnilingus, wtf did I just write, f!reader, lucifer isn't quite over lilith because ✨drama✨️, low key blaming @sociosin for sending me spicy Lucifer's ask and @the-other-soup for drawing sexy lucifer - I stood no chance guys

When you first matched with DuckLover69 on Cinder, you laughed, thinking it was a typo—surely, he meant to type DickMaster69. That seemed on brand for a hook-up app straight out of Hell. But as you stood there in his room, surrounded by luxurious, crimson-hued furniture and bed sheets of rich satin that would have looked decadent if they weren’t crowded by piles—actual mounds—of rubber ducks, you realized this guy hadn’t mistyped at all.  

This man really, truly, loved ducks. 

Maybe a tad too much.

You wove your way carefully through a veritable army of rubber duckies, each dressed in an outfit more absurd than the last. A little one in a sombrero sat beside a duck knight, complete with a silver helmet and a feather. You squinted. Was that one wielding a miniature sword? It stuck out from its back at a haphazard angle, as if this duck had met some unspeakable end in battle. 

How…avant-garde?

“Sorry for the wait!” A nervous, high-pitched voice broke the silence, followed by an anxious chuckle that echoed through the room. You turned to see Mr. Duck Lover, as he’d introduced himself online, standing stiff as a board, his hand twirling a crimson red apple atop his sleek, obsidian-black staff. 

He was exactly as odd in person as he’d been in your chats: curious to a fault and totally oblivious to social cues. His very first question had been, “So, do you know the King of Hell?” Not exactly small talk. But you had shrugged it off, telling him the truth—that you’d hardly kept up with Hell’s political scene since you arrived. You were too busy dealing with entitled assholes in your new, endless service job, a punishment so mundane it felt like Hell’s personal version of torture. 

You’d expected the conversation to taper off after that, but Mr. Duck Lover had caught you off-guard by taking a U-turn, asking without reserve if you liked sex. The question had been so blunt, so awkwardly dropped into the conversation, that you’d ended up laughing. After a hellish day dealing with rude customers, his lack of tact and straight-up weirdness had been refreshing, if bizarre, and you’d surprised yourself by playing along. 

And now here you were, standing in his duck-filled lair, looking at him in all his nervous, overdressed glory. “You weren’t kidding when you said you liked ducks,” you said with a grin, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible as you waved at a particularly stylish duck with a feathered boa around its neck. 

Mr. Duck Lover's shoulders stiffened, and his eyes darted back and forth. Two bright red circles painted his cheeks, and he looked like a mime who’d been caught halfway through his act. His fingers fidgeted with the apple on his staff as he tried for a casual smile, though it came across more like a grimace. 

“I-is that a dealbreaker?” His voice cracked, and you could practically feel the nerves radiating off him. You chuckled, stepping a little closer, savouring the way his breath caught, and his cheeks flushed a unique shade of gold, the colour spilling across his nose in a way that was like glittering treasure strewn across white sand. 

“Nah, just… observing,” you said, your grin turning wicked. “What’s wrong, Mr. Duck Lover?”  

You reached out, tucking a stray strand of gold that had fallen over his forehead back into place. He froze, his breath hitching, his eyes widening as if he’d been zapped. The blush on his cheeks deepened, and he puffed them out, holding his breath, looking for all the world like he was trying not to combust from embarrassment. 

Odd, yes. But somehow, interesting. You found yourself curious—very curious—about just what went on in that strange, nervous, duck-obsessed mind of his. 

You chuckled softly, warmth pooling at the base of your throat as you took him in. How adorable. Everything about him felt so out of place for a guy on an app specifically for hookups. He stood there, stiff as a board, his eyes darting to your every move, arms glued to his sides as though his own body wasn’t sure what to do with itself. And as you leaned closer, you noticed a large portrait hung in the back corner of his room—a family picture, quaint and well-loved. 

Am I his rebound? you thought, as you slid your fingers along his collar, grazing the crisp fabric before slowly easing it off his shoulders. His vest, a pale pink stripe against white, gave him a soft, almost innocent look—a stark contrast to the nerves dancing in his wide eyes. He didn’t resist, simply let his jacket slip down his arms, his breath coming shallow as you leaned in, feeling the heat rise as your faces neared, breath mingling. 

With a gulp, he stammered, “I gu-guess we’re doing the do, that's fantastic!” He tried to smile, his teeth peeking out in a goofy, uncertain grin as he let the jacket fall to the floor. 

“You mean…” you whispered, your voice low as you pressed against him, feeling his entire body tense beneath your touch. “Fucking?” 

He squeaked—actually squeaked—and tried to clear his throat, summoning a shred of composure. “That’s right, f-ffucking,” he stammered, the word awkward on his lips as he sounded it out like it was a foreign concept. “Because that’s… what we do. Now. Here.” His body shivered slightly, and you could feel the tremble that ran from his chest to yours, betraying his every anxious thought. 

A spark of curiosity bloomed in you as you watched his attempts at bravado crumble with each beat of silence. You felt it all click into place. In Hell, family didn’t exactly… exist. Sinners couldn’t create new life here, so the idea of settling down with a partner wasn’t the norm, let alone the idea of casual intimacy. But here he was, talking about sex with the clumsy innocence of someone barely familiar with the concept. “Hey…” you murmured, a thrill lacing your words. “Are you… a virgin?” 

The question struck him like lightning, his eyes going wide, his fingers clutching at his vest in a mixture of embarrassment and flustered denial. “Wha—first time?” He laughed—a loud, forced laugh that seemed to rattle out of him, like he was trying to chase away the truth. “Oh, no, no, no, not at all! I’ve… I’ve used my penis in… numerous ways.” His voice dropped to a low, desperate tone. “I even shape-shifted a few times for… added spice,” he said, his forked tongue flicking nervously, searching your face as though hoping to see doubt there instead of amusement. 

But you couldn’t help it. The men you usually met were arrogant, self-assured, and too focused on themselves to care. Yet here he was—blushing, hesitant, endearing in his innocence. A wicked grin spread across your face as you let your fingers trail lower, smoothing down his vest, tracing each trembling line of muscle underneath until you reached the waistband of his pants. 

You glanced up, meeting his gaze with a mischievous smirk, and his breath caught. His lips quivered, his cheeks flushed, but he returned your grin—innocent and eager, albeit with a slight, deliciously shaky edge. 

You wondered just what kind of man Mr. Duck Lover truly was as your hands moved along his body, peeling away each layer of his clothing, his meagre defences landing on the floor with gentle thuds joining with yours. For all his usual fidgeting and awkwardness, there was something disarmingly tender in the way he touched you, as if each stroke of his fingertips was sacred, each caress reverent. That boyish, clumsy charm he wore like a mask seemed to slip away, leaving behind a quiet intensity in his gaze that made your pulse race. 

“Been… a while,” he murmured, his hands wandering in tentative exploration, pausing over the soft curve of your breast, then settling firmly at your hips. The admiration in his voice deepened as he sighed, his eyes tracing over you as though you were something divine. “God really did create the perfect being,” he whispered, his lips grazing your shoulder, and as your bare bodies met in a slow, full embrace, it was your turn to hold your breath, struck by the unexpected gentleness of it. 

You almost chuckled, the urge to tease him—“Praising God in Hell? How blasphemous,”—hovering at the tip of your tongue. But as he drew you closer, his face tucked deep into the curve of your neck, words fell away, replaced by a silent warmth that seeped into every nerve, every inch of your skin. His arms wound tighter around you, his body pressing against yours, not out of desire, but a kind of longing that felt… deeper.

Meaningful. 

Your arms wrapped around him on instinct, though your mind buzzed with confusion. Shouldn’t this be a quick, meaningless fuck by now? Yet, here you were, tangled in his arms, savouring the sensation of him, feeling the quiet, almost desperate comfort he sought as he held you. The naked intimacy was strange, yes. Unexpected, yes. But something in you didn’t want to break the moment; it felt like a balm, easing all the stress and tension that had worn you down for far too long as you toiled away in your eternal damnation.  

You closed your eyes, surrendering to the steady warmth of his body, your fingers tracing delicate paths along his spine. Each gentle touch pulled soft, barely audible sounds from his throat, the hint of a moan muffled against your skin as your fingers reached his hair, petting through the soft strands. His hair was even softer than you’d imagined, and you felt him sink into your touch, both of you on the brink of letting go.

Letting go of what? You weren't sure.  

But suddenly, he pulled back, and the spell shattered. His cheeks flushed, his hands awkwardly clutching at your waist as he avoided your gaze, his nervous energy flooding back. “Right, uh, sex. That’s what we’re… here for, isn’t it? So, we should, um…” He forced a grin. “Do the, uh… the sex!” 

That was when you finally absorbed your surroundings, the vast emptiness around you, the solemn quiet of his home. There was a lonely hush here, dark and endless, filling every corner, every shadow. And, of course, the lifeless ducks haphazardly thrown around. 

But there was no one else. 

Not a soul in these halls. 

You slipped your hand into his, guiding him toward the bed with a gentleness that felt at odds with your own intentions. You almost considered tucking him under the covers, wrapping him up and telling him that he didn’t have to prove anything to you, that he could wait until he was ready. But he wasn’t a child, and you weren’t here to be his caretaker. 

He lay down first, an eager anticipation flickering across his face despite the faint tremor in his limbs, his gaze fixed on you as you joined him. His body, still soft with nerves, lay at ease, his cock resting against his thigh. You reached out, taking him in hand, moving slowly as your fingers traced down his length, stroking him with a softness that coaxed him to relax. You felt him tense, then soften beneath your touch. 

“Oh… oh wow,” he breathed, his voice catching as he watched your hand, eyes wide with wonder. “Y-you’re… you’re pretty good at this,” he stammered, awe shimmering in his voice as he struggled to keep his composure, his gaze flicking between your face and your hand, his lips parting in quiet gasps. 

At that moment, you couldn’t help but smile—feeling the thrill of his innocence, of his complete surrender. And somewhere in the warmth of his admiration, his trust, you realized you didn’t mind slowing down. 

True to his word, his body responded to your touch with a newfound firmness, his length growing against your hand, his skin silky and heated beneath your fingers. The sensation felt achingly familiar, like a melody you’d danced to before, each note resonating with a purpose neither of you had voiced aloud but understood all too well. 

Loneliness.

That was the reason, unspoken and raw, why you both found yourselves here tonight. You didn’t need his name, didn’t need his history because tonight was about filling that hollow ache. It was a fix—a fleeting, intoxicating drug against the gnawing ache deep in your chest. For one night, the world and its relentless wear could fall away in the ecstatic blur of release. 

You moved to straddle him, your body lowering until your wet, aching centre pressed firmly against the length of his cock, heat melding with heat. His eyes flicked down to where your bodies connected, then back up to meet your gaze, a hungry, almost reverent look filling his face. As you began to grind your hips against him, the friction sent a rush of molten heat through you, a spark igniting as you slid over him, slick and needy. 

He watched, his breaths coming in short, shuddering waves, head falling back against the pillow, his hands twitching at his sides, unsure if he should reach for you or simply feel. His own pulse matched yours, every breath and heartbeat syncing to a rhythm of shared need, unburdened by names or burdens. 

Slowly, you lifted your hips, guiding him to your entrance, pressing yourself down until his thick, warm tip pushed past your folds. Inch by inch, you took him, feeling every delicious stretch, every bit of pressure radiating inside you. A soft, desperate mewl escaped your lips as you sank fully, your bodies meeting in a perfect, seamless join. The raw sensation of him filling you hit deep, igniting pleasure like embers to flame. 

His head tilted back, his eyes fluttering shut, a low hiss slipping past his parted lips. “This is…” he began, voice trembling, his fingers flexing as if fighting to keep control, “oh gosh… really wonderful.” His hands faltered, barely grazing your hips before he let them fall to his sides again, his face flushed with both pleasure and nervous restraint. His hips lifted, seeking you instinctively, meeting each of your downward strokes with soft thrusts that went deeper, each time pushing him further within. 

“Oh, oh jeez, oh—golly…” He groaned, his fingers twisting into the sheets as he struggled to find words, every breath shuddering as he fought to keep up. His words, his earnest surprise, almost made you laugh, a kind of sweetness seeping into his awkward sounds as he gripped the sheets tighter. “Wow…” 

You bit back a smile, letting a small laugh escape between breaths. “What? You’ve never had good sex before?” you taunted, rolling your hips, drawing him fully within before slamming back down again. 

His cheeks flushed a deep gold, his chest expanding as he gasped, his muscles tensing beneath you. “N-No—ah, that’s not…” His voice wavered, breaking off in a moan as he sucked in a breath. “Oh, no… if you keep doing that… I won’t last long.” His voice softened, rich with pleasure and just a hint of pleading, as his eyes met yours, full of shy desire. “Please… I want this to last… just a little longer.” His words trailed into a low, trembling moan, his hands finally reaching, hesitantly finding their place on your waist as he held you, breath heavy with yearning, surrendering entirely to the moment with you. 

You hummed thoughtfully, sliding him out of you, his cock springing free and bouncing against his stomach, throbbing with the loss of warmth. His sudden whimper made you smirk, biting back a laugh as you hovered just out of reach. 

“I'm nowhere close to finishing,” you teased, keeping your wet heat tantalizingly close to him, yet unreachable all the same. 

“I can fix that!” he nearly shouted, grinning like he’d just found a solution to all the world's problems. Sitting up eagerly, he waggled his eyebrows with such intensity that it made you giggle. “After all, I was quite the… generous eater in my day,” he added, flicking his forked tongue out for effect. 

“Oh, is that so?” You chuckled, giving him a playful look. “Show me, oh great, generous eater.”  

He joined in your laughter, but then his eyes drifted over your shoulder. His face faltered, brows knitting together, and you followed his gaze. The same family portrait you had initially noticed back in your view—a tall, curvaceous woman with long blonde hair standing beside him and a child who seemed to carry hints of both their features. 

You moved next to him, and leaned back, trying to keep your tone casual. “If you’re going to bring a one-night stand over, maybe next time use a room without a family portrait.” The words came out sharper than you intended, a twinge of bitterness souring the edge. 

His shoulders tensed as he turned to you, eyes wide with a guilty look. “Oh—no, that’s not…I…” He stammered, his hands fluttering in the air as if trying to reach some explanation. 

You sighed, deciding to throw him a lifeline. You were here for fun, not drama. “Hey, relax. It’s…whatever,” you said with a casual shrug, a grin playing on your lips. But that lingering bitterness in your chest didn’t quite vanish. 

Mr. Duck Lover seemed to seize onto your words, scrambling between your legs, though his excitement from earlier was starting to wane. “I’ll make it up to you,” he murmured, leaning close, fingers hesitating on the curves of your hips, as if battling his own mind. His face hovered near your core, yet he seemed frozen in place, like he was staring into the void rather than your body. 

It was quite a comical sight. 

If you weren't in the picture, that is. 

There he was—his head bowed at your centre, practically on the verge of a self-reflective breakdown. While you laid there, spread out and ready, and he was having an existential crisis. 

You sighed, raising an eyebrow as he muttered to himself, “I can do this,” almost like he was about to leap off a bridge instead of…well, pleasing you. His hands twitched as his hands hovered over your hips, eyes squeezing shut in concentration as if gearing up for some monumental challenge. 

By now, the mood had evaporated, leaving behind only the lingering awkwardness of his whispered self-encouragement. Five seconds later, you realized that, yes, you’d completely lost the heat of the moment, and this was likely going nowhere but more awkwardness. 

You reached out gently, brushing his cheek. “Hey…maybe we should…” you started softly, hoping to ease him off this self-imposed, anxious ride and spare you both whatever spiral he was about to go down. 

His eyes snapped to yours, full of a pleading, vulnerable intensity, his lips parted and his gaze almost desperate. “No, no, I can do it!” His voice trembled, and he bit his lower lip, the slightest twitch in his left eye betraying his nerves. “It’s just been….” 

You softened, trying to help him find the words. “Years?” 

“Centuries,” he murmured, looking away as if confessing a secret. 

Centuries. The realization hits you with a strange thrill. You liked older men, sure, but you wondered how long he had stayed in Hell for. “Oh…” was all you managed, feeling the surreal weight of the moment. 

“May I?” he asked, his voice a tender murmur, fingers twitching, hesitant to touch you. You could only nod, slightly taken aback that he was asking for permission now, especially after where you'd both already been just minutes earlier. 

The moment his fingers touched your skin, he exhaled deeply, closing his eyes as if relishing the warmth. He pressed a featherlight kiss against the curve of your hip, his touch more gentle than you could have imagined. With each kiss, he drifted lower, his lips tracing delicate patterns along your skin, until he found that sensitive spot just above your core, making you jolt beneath him. 

Your emotions tangled, caught between surprise and pleasure. You’d expected something hasty, careless, but this…this felt almost achingly tender. 

He opened his eyes, the intensity of his gaze softening as his lips brushed against you. Then, slowly, his tongue traced between your folds, a warm, pleasant heat that sent a gasp spilling from your lips. His own groan followed, deep and low, a sound of unrestrained need, as he continued to explore you, his lips and tongue working in gentle, insistent rhythms. 

You bit your lip, mirroring the way he’d done earlier, clutching the sheets as your body arched, heels pressing into the bed. Every reaction you gave seemed to stoke something in him, drawing another low, desperate moan from his throat. He rocked his hips against the mattress, as if drinking each of your gasps, as if they were fuelling his own desire. 

“Ah—D-don't stop,” you whimpered, your chest rising as your back arched from the bed. But he didn’t let you escape, his lips chasing every inch of you. His mouth closed around your sensitive nub, sucking gently before he dipped his tongue to explore further, the alternating sensations sending you spiralling. 

Your breath came ragged and broken, each wave of pleasure building faster as he licked and sucked with an almost feverish devotion. His own body responded in turn, his hips grinding against the bed, the friction drawing needy, guttural sounds from him that only fed your own pleasure. 

The rhythm intensified, and just as you thought you might break from the mounting sensation, he pressed deeper, his tongue a soft, insistent force. You clenched around the bliss rising within you, every muscle tensing, as he held you there, relishing every sound, every tremor of pleasure that passed between you both in the heady, dizzying night. 

“Shit,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair, fingers tightening as you pulled him closer. His lips pressed even harder against you, and you felt yourself unravelling, teetering on the edge of something wild and raw. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” you whimpered, your legs bending as the fire in your belly coiled tighter. Then, with one last fierce suck and an indulgent lick, he shattered your restraint. The wave of pleasure crashed over you, tearing a ragged cry from your throat as it flooded every inch of your body. 

He moved with you, his own hips shifting as if in sync with the rhythm of your climax, his mouth still sealed to you, eager to take in every tremor and quake of your release. His hand slipped beneath him, the hurried motion of his strokes intensifying, his fingers relentless as he chased his own peak while lingering over every pulse and shudder of yours. 

He moaned against you, his mouth vibrating with his own mounting pleasure, his hips twitching as he hit his release just after yours. His strokes slowed, tapering off as he gasped, his lips finally releasing you as his chest heaved. He knelt there, breathless, lips glistening from the shared passion, drenched by the evidence of his pleasure pooling between you. 

But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he crawled up beside you, eyes softened as he reached for you, arms wrapping tenderly around your shoulders, guiding you to rest your head against his chest. You stayed there, uncertain yet draped in the quiet intimacy of the moment. His heartbeat pounded against your ear, each beat so fierce you couldn’t tell if it was his or your own. 

His hand drifted up to brush your hair back, fingers combing gently as his breathing settled into a steady rhythm with yours. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, then another to the crown of your head, his lips lingering as if they held some unspoken affection, each kiss like a vow. 

“You were wonderful, dear,” he whispered, his voice a low, affectionate murmur, pressing another soft kiss to your hair. He stayed there, his arms cradling you, showering you with gentle kisses, an unexpected tenderness weaving around you both in the aftermath, grounding you in a warmth that felt real, if only for this moment. 

“I'm not sure how to even respond to that” you murmured, your mind still a haze, struggling to piece itself back together in the lingering aftershocks of your release. His fingers brushed tenderly along your cheek, and when you looked up, his eyes were warm, soft, his gaze holding an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. 

“You’re perfect,” he said, tilting your chin up, his voice thick with emotion. His lips pressed gently to yours, lingering as if he wanted to etch this moment into his mind. “You’re everything I want and more.” His voice cracked, barely a whisper, before he pulled you against his chest, his arms tightening around you with a fervency that felt almost desperate, as if he were holding on to something he couldn’t bear to lose. 

The raw affection in his embrace left you spinning. He held you as if you were his—an intimacy that felt foreign and startling. You’d just met him, after all. Yet here he was, clinging onto you as if you were more than a passing connection, as if you meant something deeper, something that couldn’t be dismissed. It was unnerving, a stark contrast to what you’d expected. 

Your eyes drifted to the shadowed portrait in the corner of the room, catching the faint outline of the woman in it—a powerful figure with curling horns and a smile that was as beautiful as it was unsettling. Whoever she was, she lingered here, like a ghost following his every step, a reminder of a past not fully left behind. 

But then, he murmured into your hair, “I love you. Please… don’t go.” His voice was fragile, almost broken, and his arms wrapped around you even tighter, his head pressing against yours, as if the strength of his embrace alone could keep you with him. 

There were many reasons people used Cinder. Some were looking for a thrill, some for a fleeting escape, some for connection in a moment that might otherwise feel empty. Maybe that was all this was, a bandage to the wound of loneliness he didn’t want to admit to, a warmth he hadn’t felt in ages. 

You hesitated, your hands resting limply against his back. This wasn’t what you’d come for; it wasn’t what you’d expected. But then, you could feel his frame trembling beneath your touch, the vulnerability in his grip as if he’d waited lifetimes to feel the comfort of another. Gently, you placed a hand on his back, feeling the way he drew in a shaky breath. 

“I won’t,” you whispered softly, almost to yourself, your voice filling the quiet between you.  “I’m here for you.”  

It was a lie, but a beautiful lie, nonetheless. 

At your words, he shuddered, holding you tighter, his trembling easing as if you’d just unlocked something buried within him.  

You were just a passing soul, but at this moment, maybe that was enough. 

[alchemistc]

Y'all were so insistent that I keep going with the Eddie Fixes It By Making It Worse post breakup fic.

This is officially a three-parter. Sorry. Or you're welcome.

You can read part one here

We have to make out in front of Tommy.

Buck's in the ice cream aisle, reminding himself that he has given himself three more days of moping and ignoring his diet before he gets his ass in gear and starts to live a life again. The Halo Top is mocking him, jeering and heckling as he goes for the Blue Ribbon. Mint chocolate, because Buck always loved it and he can almost forget the mock fight he'd had with Tommy three months in when he told Buck he refused to allow toothpaste flavored treats into his home, and how they'd barely gotten back to his place without a public indecency citation.

He stares at the text until his eyes cross.

What, he sends back, and slowly, cautiously, returns the pint of ice cream to its spot in the cooler. Maybe he should lay off the sugar. He's had enough.

Trust me

It comes in almost immediately and Buck tries to rewind, tries to figure out what any of this means, what the context is, why he's getting an actual Trust Me Bro from his best friend.

You've already met your last and it's not me comes crashing back to the forefront of his mind. He's had a full 36 hours to forget it, and he had been nearly there, nearly ready to chalk it up to Tommy trying to make him angry. Which he's been doing a really fucking excellent job of, lately. Almost like he knows all the buttons to push. Like Buck had given him the owners manual.

Tommy had meant Eddie? How could Eddie have possibly come to that conclusion? What the hell was he doing sending Buck half across town to the market for snacks when -

Buck judges the distance from this market to Eddie's. Then to Tommy's.

"Oh you mother -."

A woman squeaks by with her kid in the cart seat and glares.

---

Are you at Tommy's right now

No question marks. This is an accusation. Buck's thankful there are no perishables in his cart as he abandons it in the lane and hikes it towards the door. It's a dick move, and Buck feels, a little spitefully, like if anyone remembers him they'll remember him from the times he and Tommy giggled and play-fought down the aisles, so they'll think of Tommy when they think of the cart left behind. Resent him for it, maybe.

Not like Tommy isn't particularly good at just leaving things behind.

Yeah. Join me.

Buck breaks through the doors and feels a little woozy. This might be a panic attack. His chest fucking hurts.

🖕just get my stuff and meet me at yours. tell Tommy we burned all his shit

Eddie is an asshole. I'm not gonna LIE to the man. Also he definitely doesn't have an Evan box ready to go, so take what you will from that

Buck's still in that vicious cycle where he goes from angry to upset to sad in record time, no barriers in between, where every bruise feels like it's healing too fast so he keeps pressing in just to watch the color muddle. He hates this.

It'd be a Buck box, Buck texts back, just to release some of the pressure behind his temples, and he pulls in a few deep breaths before he jogs for the Jeep. He's gonna go home. Throw on the DVD copy of Sleepless In Seattle Tommy left behind and then maybe once that's done he'll throw the damn thing in a blender.

Are you coming or not?

Buck turns the ignition and peels out in a direction that won't lead to his own home, or the things Buck has been too much of a mopey bastard to pack up and return to their owner. At a red light two miles down the road, he shares his location.

Eddie sends back an ominous Hope you brushed your teeth today.

---

Eddie gets the door and it sucks just as much as if Tommy had. They barely ever spent time at Tommy's, and Buck can see it now for the boundary it was. When they had, though, their time had been split pretty evenly between Buck picking him up for a date, and Eddie wanting to leave the quiet echo of his own house to hang with them - a car on a lift and beers shared between them, Buck watching the pull of muscle beneath Tommy's shorts as he took Eddie down to the mat, Tommy's fingers drifting through the short curls at the back of Bucks head while Eddie yelled about triple-doubles and chatted with Tommy about how impossible coverage was for some guy named Joker.

Buck has never actually figured out who that guy was. Eddie hated the Mavericks and he hated the Lakers but Eddie also complained about the guy so much he definitely wasn't a Clipper.

Eddie gets him by the forearm when Buck shows clear signs of regretting this. Drags him through the front door before Buck can fully execute his spin and stomp back to the Jeep.

Tommy's next door neighbor had waved at him from her yard where she was doing something new with her display of bird sculptures, and Buck hadn't had the heart to do anything but raise his hand back.

It's less than ten seconds before Eddie is steering him down the hall, into the living room. It's cozy in here. Lived in. Mismatched furniture that somehow fits, a blanket thrown over the side of the couch, dark wood tables and light wood flooring and lamps that look like they came from an estate sale up in the Hills. A huge ass TV set above the mantle of a gas fireplace that Buck never even had the opportunity to see working before... Before.

Tommy is a shadow coming out of the kitchen, and Buck can't help but be a little pleased that he looks as crappy as Buck feels.

---

Eddie claps his hands together before either of them can get a word in. "Okay. Here's the thing. You're both dumbasses and there's a lot of shit that you guys gotta figure out on your own. But apparently you," he points at Tommy with the lip of a beer bottle. Corona. Tommy hates the stuff, and Buck is reminded once again how dearly Eddie loves him, "need empirical evidence that there's no deeply repressed sexual tension between Buck and I. So."

"You're insane," Tommy says, and Buck feels like snapping at him. He's probably right. This is an insane thing to do. Eddie ambushed his ex and then ambushed Buck in the frozen treats aisle and now he wants to kiss Buck to prove a point? What??

Eddie ignores it. Turns to Buck. "How do you wanna do this?"

And now would be the time, actually. Now would be the time to cut the thread, make it clean, break it for good. Only despite his protest, Tommy is staring between them and his expression looks almost... hungry. Frightened, at the same time. Oh. Oh.

He really had thought...?

Eddie's a fucking idiot. Buck doesn't want to kiss him. He's squared with the fact that he definitely had a crush when they first met and he's definitely been attracted to Eddie and just not realized it but he doesn't want Eddie. He doesn't want a life with Eddie, not like that. He doesn't- He isn't -

He loves Eddie more than almost every other person on the planet, but he's not in love with him.

Buck squares his shoulders. Nods. "Yeah, okay," and then he's taking three strides to meet Eddie at the coffee table.

---

"Oh come on, are you serious?"

Buck ignores the exclamation from the peanut gallery. Tries to figure out where to put his hands. He's never really noticed the height difference before. It's barely anything - a couple inches at most - but it feels like he's looming, this close. Which is stupid. He's been this close to Eddie a million times.

Eddie bends his knees to set the beer down. Darts his gaze back up to Buck.

Buck's seen him pull this move before, and has to bite down the urge to cackle because those big brown cow eyes have charmed women up and down California and probably plenty of Texas too but the only time Buck's ever seen them look genuine was when he was looking at Shannon.

He's got a good face. Angular in all the right places, expressive in a way a lot of men try to hide. Good eyelashes, clear skin.

Eddie gets a thumb in one of Buck's belt loops and tugs.

It's a good move. It's a move that has inspired Buck to sink to his knees on more than one occasion with the right men. Man. Just the one man.

He desperately bites back a giggle when the front of their thighs brush and Buck feels nothing more than the heat coming off Eddie.

Eddie's flushed, just a little, like he's well aware how ridiculous this all is, but he's got his I'm So Fucking Serious face on and there is a part of Buck, something fucked up and broken and wrong, that wonders how Tommy would feel to see it. To know that Buck is out there in the world kissing people who aren't Tommy. It's not like he'd ended things because he didn't care for Buck, because he wasn't attracted to him. It's gotta sting, right?

Buck gets a hand on Eddie's waist, just above his hip bone. He's never actually paid attention to how much more slim Eddie is, before, how big Buck's hands feel against him.

The night Tommy had first kissed him, Buck had spent an indeterminate length of time replaying every second of the interaction. The lead up, the frank honesty, the way Buck's entire body had followed the flow of Tommy's. Heart racing, body thrumming: when Tommy had ducked his head, when he'd laughed, when he'd opened up his body language and dropped a tiny morsel of his heart, Buck had felt himself drawn in.

The lips that had caught his had set him alight.

Eddie shifts his weight and blinks up at him and for half a second Buck wants this to be a good kiss - earth shattering, life changing. He wants to feel it. Wants it to be better than every kiss he and Tommy ever shared.

The pointer and middle finger he uses to tilt Eddie's chin up are petty as hell.

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you. 

Part 9 of 12

Synopsis: lies, junk, and ebay side hustles

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

—

The Twinkie’s engine hummed as they drove, the soft rumble steady in the quiet night. Y/N leaned against the window, watching as streetlights cast fleeting shadows across her face, leaving brief glints on her tired eyes. John B’s hands gripped the wheel, knuckles pale in the dim light as he guided them down familiar roads. 

This had been one of the longest - but one of the best nights of Y/N’s life. After the initial shock of finding out each other’s secret wore off, John B volunteered to drive Y/N home, much to Rafe’s dismay. 

They had both grown up on these roads, weaving through the same streets, crashing at each other’s houses, and finding trouble together. Now, things felt… different. As if, somehow, the ground they had always trusted beneath them was shifting. Their silence was comfortable but weighted, as if both of them were holding onto thoughts too heavy to put into words.

After a while, John B finally broke the silence, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “So… I guess we’re practically in-laws now.”

She let out a small laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. “Guess so. Funny, isn’t it?”

John B smirked but grew thoughtful, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I mean, I get how I ended up with Sarah, but… you and Rafe? When did that even happen?”

She felt a slight warmth creep up her face. “Uh… tonight, actually.” She paused, swallowing. “We kissed for the first time. I think the word for it is ‘unexpected.’”

He shot her a sidelong glance, eyebrows raised. “You’re kidding me. Tonight?”

“Yeah. Tonight.” She gave a half-shrug, avoiding his gaze. “It's kind of… I don’t know, it just happened.”

John B let out a slow breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “You kissed Rafe Cameron tonight… wow.” He let that sink in, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the wheel. “Guess we’re both out here crossing some major lines.”

Y/N gave a slight nod, feeling the truth of that for herself, too. Sarah Cameron and Rafe Cameron—these were people they’d known their entire lives, kids who had grown up with a silver spoon and never seemed to notice the Pogues except to look down on them. And yet, here they were, tangled in the lives of the Kooks they’d once considered untouchable.

“How did that even happen?” she asked quietly, her gaze still on the passing trees.

John B rubbed a hand over his jaw, considering. “It’s… complicated. It was one of those things that just kinda… snuck up on me. I was working on Ward’s boat one day. He needed help with something in the engine room, and when I came up, Sarah was there. She was sitting by the dock, crying. She’d just broken up with Topper.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, though she wasn’t entirely surprised. “Yeah, he’s… something, isn’t he?”

John B chuckled dryly. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. Anyway, she looked… different. Vulnerable, I guess. Not like her usual ‘Kook princess’ self. We just started talking, and I don’t know… the lines got blurry. I wanted to hate her, but it’s hard to hate someone when you’re actually seeing them. You know what I mean?”

She did. She understood that completely.

“Yeah,” Y/N murmured, tracing her finger along the edge of the window. “Rafe… I never thought I’d be able to trust someone like him. I mean, it’s Rafe Cameron. But tonight, something just… clicked. And I realized I wanted to be around him. It’s strange, but being with him, even just for a night… it made me forget about a lot of things.”

“Like JJ?” John B’s voice was quiet, understanding. Y/N felt her heart constrict at the name, the weight of years of friendship and unspoken feelings pressing down on her all at once.

“Yeah,” she whispered, almost to herself. “I’ve been in love with him for so long. And it’s like... it’s been this constant thing in the back of my mind, like this background noise that I got used to. But tonight, with Rafe… it was like the noise stopped. For once, I wasn’t thinking about JJ. I was just... there, in the moment.”

John B let out a slow breath, nodding. “It’s kind of terrifying, isn’t it? Letting someone in like that. I know how much you cared about JJ. Honestly… I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you guys. I’ve known you my whole life. You and JJ are the only people who… get me. And now I’m dating Sarah, and you’re with Rafe… it’s almost like we’re betraying something.”

Y/N looked over at him, their eyes meeting for a long moment. “Yeah, it feels like that. It’s not just about us—it’s about all of us. Our whole group, the way we’ve always been there for each other. I keep thinking about what JJ would say if he knew.”

John B’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He’d be pissed, that’s for sure. Hurt, too. But… maybe he’d understand eventually.”

“I don’t know, John B. He’s stubborn. And this would feel like a double blow. We’re his oldest friends, and… he’d feel like we’ve crossed a line. Especially me, with Rafe of all people.” She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. “I can’t imagine losing JJ because of this.”

The silence fell again, heavy with memories and old loyalties. Finally, John B glanced over at her, his voice a little softer, a little more vulnerable. “Then let’s keep it between us. We don’t have to tell anyone. I mean… if things get serious or whatever, we’ll figure it out then. But for now… let’s just keep this between us. I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine.”

Y/N smiled, the weight lifting just slightly. “Deal.”

“Good,” he replied, a flicker of relief in his eyes. He offered her a small grin. “Guess we’ll be each other’s partners in crime, sneaking around with the Kooks. Never thought we’d end up here.”

She laughed softly, nodding. “Life has a weird way of throwing curveballs.”

As the Twinkie carried them back down the familiar roads, Y/N felt a sense of calm settle over her. They had their pact now, an unspoken agreement to protect each other and their secrets. 

—

The salty breeze tugged at Y/N’s hair as she made her way down the familiar path to The Chateau. It had been a week since she last saw the Pogues, and her absence hadn’t been unnoticed. She’d spent the days since the chaos at Tannyhill trying to process everything. The kiss with Rafe felt like a whirlwind, and now she had to face her friends, especially JJ, who she knew would be the hardest. Her stomach was in knots as she approached the hangout, trying to steady her nerves.

John B had said he’d smooth things over, but Y/N wasn’t so sure. Not when it came to JJ.

When she entered, the usual hum of conversation was absent. The Pogues were gathered around the table, but it felt… off. Pope and Kie were sitting together, but their smiles seemed forced as they looked up at her. The only one who wasn’t pretending was JJ, standing by the window, his back to the room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He didn’t even look her way as she stepped inside.

Y/N hesitated in the doorway, her gaze flicking between Kie, Pope, and John B, who was leaning casually against the counter. “Hey,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Kie’s face lit up, though there was an obvious undercurrent of confusion. “Look who’s back! You good? Where’ve you been?”

Y/N winced at the warmth in Kie’s voice—so different from JJ’s cold silence. “Yeah, just needed some space,” she replied, not wanting to dive into details.

Pope nodded but didn’t press further. “Everyone’s been asking about you,” he said. “Glad to see you finally made it out.”

John B gave a small grin, trying to ease the awkwardness. “Yeah, we were starting to think you’d forgotten how to find us.”

Y/N gave him a small, forced laugh, but her eyes were drawn back to JJ, who still hadn’t turned around. The tension was palpable, and it felt like the air itself was thickening with each passing second.

She tried to take a step forward, but JJ’s voice cut through the room like a knife. “So, nice of you to join us,” he muttered, his tone sharp. “Thought maybe you’d decided we weren’t worth your time anymore.”

Y/N flinched. She hadn’t expected the bite in his words, not after everything they’d been through. She knew he was hurt, but hearing it from him like this felt like a slap.

JJ finally turned to face her, his face hard. “You know, I was worried sick after that voicemail,” he continued, his voice rising slightly. “You didn’t answer my texts, didn’t pick up the phone. What the hell, Y/N? You left me hanging.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. She hadn’t expected this level of anger, but hearing him say that struck a chord. She swallowed, trying to steady herself. “You could’ve picked up the phone the first time I called,” she shot back, her voice sharper than she intended. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had actually been there when I needed you.”

The words hung in the air between them, sharp and raw. JJ’s eyes widened, surprised by her retort, but there was no denying the hurt that flashed across his face. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?” he said, voice low and simmering. “You think it’s that simple?”

Y/N’s chest tightened. “No, I don’t think it’s simple,” she snapped back, her frustration mounting. “But I tried reaching out, JJ. You’ve been so caught up with everything else, and I—” She broke off, running a hand through her hair. “I needed space. That’s it. I wasn’t trying to make you feel like you didn’t matter.”

JJ shook his head, clearly struggling to contain his frustration. “You can’t just disappear like that without telling anyone what’s going on. I thought something happened to you. I was out of my mind, Y/N.”

She softened slightly at the vulnerability in his tone, but her anger still simmered. “I didn’t want to worry you,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “I just needed time to figure things out.”

JJ exhaled sharply, clearly still hurt but now holding back, as if deciding whether to continue his outburst. Finally, he muttered, “Fine. Just… next time, don’t leave me in the dark. I don’t do well with that.”

Y/N nodded, her throat tight as she met his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. That’s the last thing I want.”

There was a long, heavy silence before JJ, with a frustrated sigh, finally gave a small, resigned shrug. “Alright, fine. Just don’t do that again, okay?”

John B, sensing the moment was still tense, stepped in with a lighthearted tone, trying to ease the mood. “Alright, enough of the drama. We’ve got a Pogue reunion here, right?” He glanced at Y/N with a small, reassuring smile. “Let’s just have a good night, yeah?”

Y/N gave him a tight smile, but her gaze lingered on JJ for a moment longer. There was still a distance between them, an unspoken tension that neither of them could ignore. But at least, for now, they were talking again. She only hoped the cracks in their friendship wouldn’t be too hard to fix.

—

A few days had passed since the tense moment with JJ, and things seemed to go back to normal, or at least, as normal as things could get in the Outer Banks. Y/N still spent most of her free time with Rafe, sneaking in moments together whenever they could. It felt like a secret they were both carefully tending, and despite the weight of keeping it under wraps, there was an unspoken comfort in it. She had no intention of telling the group just yet, but she wasn’t pretending things were the same with JJ either. There was distance now, but it was the kind of space that made it easier to breathe. And while Y/N still felt a little uncertain about what it meant for her friendship with the Pogues, she couldn’t help but feel lighter every time she was around them.

People noticed when she disappeared. Pope raised an eyebrow at her a couple of times, Kiara playfully asked if she was meeting some "mysterious boy," and JJ, though distant, was clearly still keeping an eye on her. But no one questioned it further. No one needed to know.

That afternoon, Y/N found herself back at the Chateau, where the gang had regrouped after a few days of avoiding serious conversations. The group was loud, as usual—Kiara pulling out an old map, Pope half-heartedly objecting to some of their more ridiculous ideas, and JJ getting a little too enthusiastic about a new "adventure" they could take. This time, it was JJ’s turn to suggest something chaotic.

“I’ve got it,” JJ said dramatically, eyes lighting up. “We go to the junkyard.”

Y/N shot him a raised eyebrow. “The junkyard? Really?”

“It’s perfect,” JJ continued, ignoring the questioning looks. “We could find treasure, make some plans for the summer, do something that actually makes us feel alive for once. Plus, there’s always weird stuff there—old cars, random bits of metal, who knows what we might find?”

Kiara perked up at the mention of treasure. “Could be a gold mine,” she added with a grin. “Or at least we can see if there’s any cool, rusty junk we can turn into art.”

Pope, who had been staring into the distance, suddenly broke into a mock frown. “The junkyard? Really? You guys are seriously trying to drag me into a place filled with piles of trash?”

JJ grinned, always ready to egg Pope on. “Come on, Pope. You can pretend to be the sophisticated one all you want, but deep down you know you want to get your hands dirty with the rest of us.”

Y/N laughed, leaning back on the couch. It was a sound she hadn’t realized she’d missed—her group, teasing and laughing with no tension. It felt like old times, before everything got complicated. Before she started feeling like she was on the outside of the group, watching as JJ and Kiara danced around each other and trying to figure out what her feelings for Rafe meant.

“I’m in,” Y/N said, sitting up and giving them a small grin. “Let’s go find some treasure.”

Pope, still grumbling, threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine. But I’m not getting stuck in any piles of scrap metal. I’m too smart for that.”

“Just remember that when I find something amazing, you’ll be the first to carry it for me,” JJ teased, already standing up and grabbing his jacket.

At that moment, John B, who had been lounging on the couch with a cup in hand, suddenly perked up. “Did someone say junkyard?” he asked, eyes wide with mock excitement. “That sounds like the kind of adventure I can get behind.”

Y/N shot him a grin. “You planning on driving us there, Captain?”

“Obviously.” John B tossed the cup aside, jumping to his feet. “The van’s ready. And if I’m driving, we’re making this a proper expedition. No half-assed treasure hunts on my watch.”

Kiara rolled her eyes but smiled at the enthusiasm. “Fine, fine. Let’s go then.”

The gang piled into the old, beat-up twinkie, heading off toward the junkyard. As they approached the site, the familiar scent of rust and oil filled the air. The place looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie, with broken-down cars, shattered glass, and twisted metal strewn across the dirt lot. The kind of place where nothing was useful, but everything had the potential for some kind of adventure.

“Alright,” JJ said, standing dramatically in front of the group, “let’s make this a scavenger hunt. First person to find the weirdest thing gets to claim the prize.”

“Prize?” Kiara asked, skeptically. “What, are we going to sell the trash we find?”

“Exactly,” JJ grinned. “Who says junk can’t be worth something?”

Pope rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back a smirk. “This is ridiculous. But I’m game.”

Y/N watched John B, who was already surveying the junkyard with a mischievous grin. He had that familiar glint in his eyes—the same spark he always got when he was looking for trouble, and he wasn’t about to let JJ have all the fun. “Fine,” John B said, “but I’m getting the prize first.”

“You wish,” JJ shot back, already moving toward a stack of old tires. “I’m gonna find something epic.”

As they began to spread out, Y/N couldn’t help but feel lighter. She wasn’t thinking about JJ’s stupid pity kiss, or the constant tension that hung between them. She wasn’t worried about Rafe’s feelings either—he was the secret she didn’t have to explain, and she was content with that. For once, she was just part of the group again, her old self. The Pogue she used to be.

JJ sprinted toward an old car, shouting out, “I call dibs on this beauty!” and began rifling through the trunk, already making an absurd amount of noise. Kiara, Pope, and Y/N followed suit, though their finds were much more practical. Y/N pulled out a few rusted tools, giggling when Pope made a face at the mess she was digging through.

“You sure this is the best we’ve got?” Pope asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm but a hint of amusement.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said with a playful grin. “What’s your definition of treasure, Pope? Something shiny?”

“Exactly,” he said, half-smiling. “I’m all for finding treasure, but not garbage.”

“We’ll see about that,” Kiara called out from behind a pile of tires, already holding up a set of old neon lights she thought could be used for their next bonfire. “This could make a perfect addition to our party setup!”

Y/N watched as Kiara took charge of their little scavenger hunt, leading them through the junkyard with a sense of excitement that made the whole thing feel a little more like a real adventure. Pope was actually getting into it now, his competitive spirit taking over as he tried to beat JJ to whatever “treasure” he could find. JJ, of course, was already in his own world, imagining the junkyard as some sort of personal playground, where every broken thing was just a stepping stone to a bigger, better idea.

John B wandered off toward the far side of the yard, his eyes scanning the piles of junk for anything that might catch his eye. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how natural it felt, watching the group fall into their old rhythm.

As they explored, laughing and tossing things aside, Y/N realized that it wasn’t just the junkyard that felt like home—it was this. It was being with these people. No matter how chaotic things got, no matter how much she didn’t know what she was doing with her own life, these were the people who always had her back

The sun blazes overhead as Y/N steps into the junkyard, eyes wide with excitement.

“This place is awesome!” Y/N exclaims, practically bouncing on her toes. “It’s like a treasure hunt, but better because it’s all free!”

Kiara chuckles beside her. “I mean, it’s not the best place for treasures, but yeah, you could find something cool.” She swats a crow feather out of her face. 

John B, already leading the way, turns back with a grin. “Follow me, I know where the good stuff is.”

Y/N follows, practically bouncing with curiosity. “Okay, okay. Let’s see what’s in there.”

Pope, trailing behind, lets out a dramatic sigh. “Good stuff? In a junkyard? This is like a museum... for garbage.”

Y/N laughs, waving at a pile of old scrap metal. “Hey, you’d be surprised. There’s probably something worth a lot here, Pope. You never know!”

They reach the shed, and John B immediately tries to open the door. He pulls, pushes, and gives it a shoulder check, but it’s locked.

“Uh, guys,” John B mutters, frowning. “It’s locked.”

“Duh,” Pope replies, unimpressed. “It’s a shed. Who’s surprised?”

John B shrugs. “Well, this shed’s too interesting to leave alone. JJ, grab the crowbar. We’re getting in.”

JJ jumps into action, grinning. “This is gonna be fun.”

Pope looks around nervously. “This is a terrible idea. We’re gonna get caught.”

“Relax,” John B says, already walking back to make room for JJ. “It's fine. We’ll just—”

JJ pulls out the crowbar and gives it a couple of solid swings against the shed’s door. The sound of metal against metal echoes across the junkyard. On the third swing, the door creaks open with a groan, revealing the dark interior.

“Here we go!” JJ says, his grin widening. He steps into the shed like he just found buried treasure.

Y/N steps forward, eyes lighting up. “Okay, okay. Let’s see what’s in here.”

But as the group floods into the dimly lit shed, their excitement quickly fades. The place is stacked with nothing but junk—old furniture, broken tools, and boxes of random stuff, nothing of any real value. The walls are lined with old tires, discarded appliances, and garbage bags.

“What the hell?” Y/N says, her voice deflating. “This is... this is just junk.”

“I told you,” Pope mutters under his breath, crossing his arms. “Who in their right mind would call this ‘good stuff’?”

John B shrugs, undeterred. “Hey, sometimes the best finds are hidden under a pile of garbage.”

JJ pulls a dusty old television out of a box and wipes it off. “Look, I found this! I mean, it’s not working, but who wouldn’t want a retro TV in their house, right?”

Pope raises an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah, because that’s totally what I want—vintage junk.”

And then, the door slams shut.

Y/N spins around, eyes wide. “Uh, guys? The door just closed.”

Kiara, who’s looking around the room with increasing unease, says, “No way. We’re locked in? Are you kidding me?”

John B goes to grab the handle, but it’s stuck. “Great. Of course, the door’s stuck now.”

JJ, still casually rummaging through junk, stops and looks up. “Wait, seriously? We’re locked in?”

“Yeah, JJ!” Y/N says, her voice rising with a mix of panic and amusement. “We’re locked in. Look at this place. There’s no way out.”

Pope starts pacing, his calm demeanor cracking. “This is not happening. We’re literally locked in a shed in a junkyard.”

Kiara looks around, her eyes darting from one junk pile to the next. “Well, at least it’s not a stranger’s shed. I guess we could just chill... but, uh... still... someone has to come looking for us, right?”

Y/N starts laughing, despite the situation. “I mean, yeah. Worst case, we just start a new life in the junkyard. It's practically our new home now.”

JJ throws his hands up. “Yeah! We’ll live off moldy pizza boxes and tire swings. Total dream life!”

John B glares at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Guys, seriously, quit joking. We need to get out of here.”

“Right,” Pope mutters, pulling at the door again. “Maybe if we just pull it...”

The group tries everything—pulling, kicking, even trying to knock the door down, but nothing works. After several attempts, the group begins to lose their energy, and the silence hangs heavy for a moment.

“Okay, so we’re stuck in here,” John B says, flopping down onto an old recliner, his voice nonchalant. “This is officially our new hangout spot, I guess.”

Kiara glares at him. “This isn’t funny.”

“No, really,” John B grins, raising an eyebrow. “You guys remember that one time we got stuck in that abandoned house during that storm? Remember how much fun we had?”

Y/N snorts. “Yeah, except that house was less junk-y and more... ghost house.”

“I mean, this place is just as fun, right?” JJ says, flopping down next to her, pulling a rusted license plate out of a box. “We got old stuff. We got... character.” He waves it around like it's some kind of trophy.

“Sure,” Pope grumbles, “if by ‘character’ you mean ‘how many ways can you die while inside a shed full of junk.’”

John B suddenly jumps up. “Wait, I’ve got it. We break out the windows!”

Kiara looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “John B, that’s not a good idea—”

But John B is already going for it. “Just trust me!”

After a few attempts, they finally manage to break the window, with John B leading the charge. The group spills out into the sunlight, everyone covered in dirt and laughing like it’s no big deal.

“Well, that was an adventure,” Y/N says, brushing off her hands with a grin. “I guess we can cross ‘getting locked in a shed’ off our bucket list.”

Kiara punches her lightly on the arm. “Yeah, not on my list, but sure, let's count it.”

Pope straightens up, shaking his head. “That was a mess. But at least it was... interesting.”

John B slings his arm around Y/N's shoulders, laughing. “Another Tuesday with the Pogues. Couldn’t get any better, right?”

—

A/N: Pogues back to business as usual. Don’t worry—Rafe’ll be back next time. Please drop a thought if anything stuck out to you, I love hearing what you all think!

–

Next time: secrets don’t stay hidden for long

—

Taglist: @hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin , @maybankslover , @ren-ni, @wh0reforbucknasty , @enjoymyloves , @bilssturns , @dragonslight , @willowpains , @sidney-86

[leth-writes]

yandere reader x yandere batfam

SUMMARY: yandere batfam x yandere reader

WARNINGS: 18+ as always on my blog, though the work is safe for work. Typical yandere shenanigans.

MASTERLIST 

Requests are open!

Just thinking of a yandere darling. You’re a little intense, maybe just on the creepy side of protective.

But you’re not very good at it 🙁

You’re stalking them, they’re stalking you as you stalk them, it’s a whole thing.

They honestly might be relieved. They know where you are at all times, they’ve long ago put a tracker on you, but having you always hovering around eases their worries.

Tim definitely hacks the bugs you’ve put on them, making sure you aren’t accidentally catching on to the fact they’re night-time vigilantes.

Overall, though, I can see them LOVING the trackers you try to place on them. You’re so clumsy about it anyone would notice, but they pretend not to, just so your self-esteem doesn’t get hurt.

It’s like a kitten trying to fight a tiger; the tiger’s playing, the kitten is unaware of how bad their odds are.

There’s no way you’d be able to break into the manor by yourself.

They see it as enrichment, they just… leave a single window open, on the ground floor, into a rarely used family room.

Once they catch you planting the bugs all over the room, not even bothering to make your way throughout the rest of the manor, they’ll spend more time in the room, playing up their personas.

Bruce is especially amused; he’s really playing up the ditzy Brucie persona around you, entirely so that he can get close to you without you suspecting he’s onto you.

You’re really protective over him; there’s been times you’ve been gearing up to fight some creep at a gala who won’t leave poor ol’ Brucie alone. 

He doesn’t need your help, he’s working on a case, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy, knowing you’re there. Even if there’s no way you’d actually be able to deal with the types of enemies he has.

You’re like pulling him off to the side, holding his hands in yours and staring at him so determinedly, eyes blazing. “Bruce, don’t be scared to tell me if someone’s bugging you, okay? I’ll handle it.” You tell him. Internally, Bruce is cooing. When he tells the others about it later, in the privacy of the cave, they’ll do the same.

You just think he’s too soft for this world. He needs protection! He thought Mexico was a continent!

He’ll definitely pretend to be super drunk just as an excuse to lean on you, his side pressed to yours and an arm slung around your neck. He loves the way he can feel the heat of your blush.

Dick is much the same way. You’ve signed up for his gymnastics class and you’re so determined to succeed at something he loves that he just can’t help but prioritize you. Some of the other students even complain about how obvious the favoritism is. Don’t be surprised if you miraculously win free 1-on-1 lessons with him. He just loves being able to physically touch and guide you, watching how flustered you get.

Sometimes you slip in a bit of information he knows isn’t really available to the general public, just little things about his time in the circus. It makes him happy to know how much time you’ve spent researching him, even if it is pretty baseline stuff, nothing too deep. He’s just appreciating your hard work!

Jason, you have a hard time with. He doesn’t appear in public often, so you spend most of your time just watching him read in the family room. He knows you’re reading the stuff he picks out, so he deliberately chooses books he thinks you’d like. 

When it comes to Tim, he’s definitely matching your freak. You get a tracker on him, he has 3 on you. He’s discreetly watching you watch him. 

Puts on a show, makes himself seem like any naive rich kid. You’ll never see the true predator until it’s too late.

Definitely fiddles with the trackers in his spare time, he loves being reminded of how much you love him; it plays right into those deep seated insecurities left over from his biological parents.

Damian is definitely the least subtle about it. He’s not gonna pretend to be something he isn’t, and he definitely wants you to step up your game. He’ll smash the trackers until you manage to get it into a satisfactory spot.

He will absolutely refuse to spend much time in the family room; he sees it as too easy. He wants you to work to learn more about him. His past is definitely one of the harder ones to dig up.

Cass can read the desperation on you, and just befriends you. She doesn’t really put up much of an act, and just satisfies your protective instincts by listening to your ‘suggestions’ about how awful her ‘friends’ are. They’re acquaintances at best, so you aren’t really accomplishing much of anything, but she feels it’s the thought that counts.

Just imagine when you’re finally kidnapped, and they’re like Surprise! We knew the whole time!

OH MY GOD THE HUMILIATION

They’re completely different than how you thought they were, and you slowly realize you’ve made a big fucking mistake, but oh well, it’s their turn now!

[sepublic]

I remember hearing that Dana was inspired by True Crime, amongst other things and people IRL, when writing Belos. And it seems that contrary to the notoriety of True Crime fans, she actually understood the assignment.

Because she opted to demystify the serial killer as this dark, unusual psychology that operates outside of societal borders and rules, disturbed by some secret reason, and instead literally pull off the mask to reveal he’s just some white manchild who hates women and minorities to a violent degree, because he feels threatened by them and their ability to say No in his entitlement. There’s nothing special or unique about his motives.

He’s no exception to the status quo, he is it unmasked of the veneer of civility, he’s the lynch mob and the cop (all of whom inherit the violence of white supremacy and colonialism) and fittingly a lot of serial killers were clocked by women and PoC as dangerous, but cops —largely white men— dismissed their claims because look at this dude, he seems like an upstanding citizen! And that’s really how he got away.

And because his victims were people the system was less likely to believe because they both operated on the same biases, you see why a lot of cops who commit brutality are drawn to an institution where they’re given violent power over brown and/or queer communities who are labeled as ‘suspicious’, because they enjoy easy targets they know the system doesn’t care about, and are enraged by body cams and accountability.

It doesn’t matter if they’re intentionally bigoted, their support of an inherently bigoted institution makes them the same; Internalized biases and “I don’t see race” and all that. You see how Philip wanted to be a witch hunter —the prototypical cop who is not exclusively violent towards women but still has a clear slant— or colonial savior so bad, because his violence could be legitimized by the authority of the state.

He leans into it hardcore when he feels threatened by the presence of an outside girl who challenges the Christian narrative of Gravesfield, to the point of violence; It’s a position that validates killing anyone who doesn’t agree with him in general, hence Caleb and the Grimwalkers, but of course his and society’s biases slant towards women and PoC. And while it ultimately doesn’t matter whether he’s intentionally racist/misogynistic, it’s worth addressing that he very much does have the intention due to his blatant Conservative backdrop.

And seeing how charming Philip is and the portrayal of him as a little kid playing games in his youth, a perception Caleb might’ve still had which led to his death, I can see the direct line to families who find out their sons are school shooters and are in disbelief because he was such a nice kid! While ignoring the obvious Red Flags because white men are allowed to express these without being immediately scrutinized by the community, by having it brushed off. On some level cops don’t suspect him because he’s the same type of guy as them.

Part of that denial comes from the fact that he’s not an “unfeeling sociopath” who’s wired differently. Philip can feel empathy and guilt like anyone else, but he’s still a hateful prick and these aren’t mutually exclusive; Not when people can be perfectly selective about who they extend these feelings towards, or even do things in spite of these feelings, because other ones —anger and pride and hatred— exist and they choose to prioritize those. There’s an assumption that empathy and guilt inherently make you a good person, but they don’t; That ultimately comes from what you do about it, not how you feel.

You could even say Dana and the other writers wrote him too well, because true to life, we have a similar issue but on a micro-scale via the abstraction of fiction regarding a very dedicated fan base who loves to romanticize him and his actions, attributing his issues to some secret trauma in childhood, a young man failed by society! While also scrubbing him of his racism and misogyny and reliance on the status quo, to make him ‘apolitical’ and you can see the same not just with fans but also in society.

Because society doesn’t want to acknowledge serial killers as just the truth behind their white sons and the system that absolved and encourages them, because that would require them to admit their guilt in how they’re structured. Rather, they’ll say these men reflect some dark truth inherent to humanity, and don’t exist within a certain sociopolitical framework.

And so he was a ‘loner’ whose problems can be pathologized via mental illness, his trauma can be traced back to a specific incident in his youth he just couldn’t get over. So you see how school shooters are made into victims, how serial killers are also made apolitical and even alien to distance them from the status quo.

And then you can lean into how unusual they are by writing characters like Dexter or Hannibal Lecter, you can not just defend the system but feed into it via the commodification of their violence as entertainment and consumption, and thus fuel the white supremacy train by letting their violence towards women and minorities be praised as something fascinating and interesting and conveniently clean of bigotry. This is the dichotomy of the hypothetical, romanticized Fantasy Serial Killer, and the banal IRL Serial Killer.

Thus we have the same cycle of white men’s violence being praised and validated by the system, and white men feeling entitled to this fame as a delusional fantasy. Because you’ve never heard of a black serial killer; Because black people are violent, that’s just the way they are, right? But if white men are violent, this is sensationalized as somehow unusual and fascinating and worth dedicating countless books and shows and movies towards. Obviously.

And even going back to witch hunters, sometimes I wonder about the constant consideration of, What if witches did exist? What if they were evil? Things like The VVitch or The Conjuring series, which have some framing of the Salem Witch Trials’ IRL violence towards women as legitimate in another universe, because of Satanism’s genuine predatory threat towards women, and how evil women sacrifice theirs or others’ God-given gift of a child, and now threaten another white Christian family.

And again there’s the the demystifying of the real life witch hunter too when we have a historical reenactment declare verbatim that IRL witch hunters were motivated by economics and other banal factors, not by any genuine belief in the dangers of demons; And even in a setting where the demons were real, they were not the predatory threat IRL witch hunters made them out to be, and so their very real biases and ulterior motives still apply in cumulative insincerity.

Hence, the Titan correcting Luz by explaining Belos as someone who only cares about being the hero in his own delusion; The fascist wet dream of a hidden invader here to corrupt even young white men, an outside monster to vanquish and whose destruction justifies the state, when in reality the monster IS the state, and before he was even presented as a witch (much less the human truth), his system’s destruction was called for.

Ultimately, a lot of True Crime and similar narratives are criticized for focusing more on this apparently inevitable mystique behind the perpetrators, who warrant far more attention than their victims. So when the villain is an example of True Crime, it’s worth noting how the show is so much more focused on the ‘weirdoes’ he targets, on women and/or PoC. The lives of Luz Noceda and her friends, them getting along and their psychologies, are just so much more important, and it really isn’t about that guy, who is informed as much as he needs to be.

But again, the True Crime fans dilemma; People genuinely salty at the show for not focusing on their favorite serial killer and his troubled backstory, his tragic motives and Puritan repression. The framing of his murders and motives isolated through the lens of his violence on undeserving white men, and not on the out-group he is specifically targeting and has committed much more violence on, esp if you look at the narrative’s actual framing of his impact on our protagonists, but also other victims who are witches or demons, and even his own self-professed motives; Hence, ‘Fratricide Georg’ as a joke depoliticized of his colonial violence, a violence that is not just adjacent to but fulfilling racism.

Because he hallucinated only those white men out of guilt, but that’s his biased perspective and priorities; And so you see how this is contrasted with a refusal to empathize with people like the Collector or Luz, who are put into the same situations as his white male victims via shared cinematography, yet are just as rejected. Luz is only put into this situation as convenient to Belos’ narrative, the closest replacement to a white male human he can get, but again if this girl of color says No, he tries to murder her and even does.

Yet again, people take genuine, personal insult at the creator for finding Belos to be her least favorite character to write, while ignoring that she still found him necessary to the story she was trying to tell; She just found the framing and focus should’ve been shifted to his actual victims’ deep and meaningful lives, how they matter. So people hate that S3 cares more about Luz Noceda’s relationship with her parents of color, as well as her female mentor and demonic brother, or her queer relationship with her girlfriend, etc.

And even when they get a bone of white boy Hunter, it’s still not enough; Fans inevitably gather themselves into an almost frenzied state of personal victimization, rallying into harassment of PoC who criticize their portrayal and discussion around their colonial serial killer fave, organizing dedicated trends and months to giving their white men the focus they ‘deserved’, because this is just White fandom in general.

Look at the entitlement campaigns regarding Ben Solo or Billy Hargroves deserving better, these young white men violent to women and minorities. It’s just the same thing but on a micro-scale, at least filtered via fictional characters. But Jesus you see how internalized biases bleed into everything. You’ve never heard of a black serial killer and fandom doesn’t fight for characters of color.

[animeshotsh]

You what? | Viktor x Jayce x Kid!Reader | Arcane ¤

Summary: Viktor knows Jayce sometimes does things without thinking, but this? This goes beyond his own limits.

Warnings: Mentions of trauma - Kid!Reader - Viktor and Jayce are a couple - OFF CANON EVENTS - Human traffic - GN Reader - PLATONIC - grammar mistakes -

When Viktor enters on monday morning into the lab with his coffee in hand he expects nothing but silence, after all he is here before Jayce most mornings.

But he stops in his tracks when he hears Jayce's voice, maybe sounding less...well less like him. He sounds like he is talking to a small animal. It reminds him on how he uses to talk to Rio when he was a kid.

Pushing memories aside Viktor retakes his way and goes deeper into the lab, where their experiments are.

And oh, if his illness did not kill him as most doctors had said then this would do it.

Jayce, using one of his experiments showing it to a kid who seems to be as suprised as any kid would be and perphas gives the most honest reactions to his inventions.

But wait, go back.

Jayce and a kid.

His cane hits the floor in suprise and he ends being watched by two pairs of eyes.

Jayce looks like he was discovered breaking some important rule, to which Viktor is centrain that bringing a kid into the lab counts as but he wont say it. And another pair that looks at him with curiosity.

There is silence, no one really knows what to say or how to act. But Jayce ends reacting, leaving the experiment and going to help Viktor with his cane who is feeling a headache coming.

"Hey Vik! long time no see, how's your house?"

Honestly? Viktor wants nothing more than to go back in time and insist that he is fine and does not need rest. Maybe like that he would have stayed with Jayce and prevent...this.

But time travel is something that is still on the making, so back to the main point.

Viktor just gives out the most tired look, then turns to a near chair, sits and taking his coffee simple says "Explain"

Becuase if there is something he has come to learn while dating and loving Jayce is that nothing should suprise him (and yet Jayce still manages to do it) and also, is better to ask upfront than to wait for him to talk up. Viktor can still remember that one time he found a big (illegal no less) plant at his home and Jayce ignored it for two hours till he asked.

"Well you see, its really funny actually..."

"Jayce...."

"Alright..., so I took a walk around campus and saw some...suspicious individuals and well lets say I was not very discrete"

Viktor can just imagine the scene

"And they saw me and ran but I chased after them"

Stupid move Viktor thinks

"And then they trow me this kid at me, i mean what could I have done? So i took them home, gave them a warm meal and a bath" Jayce ends sounding a bit too proud of himself.

"Jayce you...you stole a kid?" Viktor asks because he is confused "And did not report the incident?"

"Uh well i was going too but then (Y/N) started to wonder around so i kind of forgot..."

"(Y/N?" Viktor asks and sees you peeking out from behind the big desk.

"Yes! Thats their name, im not sure about much more, only that they like chocolate and blue stuff"

Viktor ends in silence for various minutes. You must be an orphan he concludes, an orphan from the undercity, who had no other choice but to follow a gang in order to survive. He tries to calculate your age but its hard, you have been not eating well, thats clear, and he can already see some bruises from the misstreatment of the undercity.

Being raised by parents or family its a luxury after all.

"Jayce you cant just take a kid in" Viktor says and his heart almost breaks as he sees you run towards Jayce hugging his legs.

Noted, you may not talk but you understand, its clear you are more intelligent than what you leave to be at first.

Street smart maybe?

"But Viktor! I cant just leave them" Jayce responds picking you up. "If they return to the undercity i dont think they will make it"

Jayce sees how you push your head against his chest and smiles softly at you.

"And we cant leaven them at an orphan home! I have read of these places, they suck"

Viktor must agree, its not like he comes from one but knows well that lots of kids ends being sold off...

"Alright and whats your plan?" Viktor asks "Do you even know what it means to raise a kid, or how? What about me? Were you going to consulte me?"

He can see the pain in Jayce eyes at his last sentence. "Of course I was! I was just thinking of a...well a good moment"

"Because bringing them to the lab was the perfect idea"

"I could not leave them at home! I mean i tried but- they would not let go of my leg, i think they have some type of trauma..."

Viktor takes another deep breath, Jayce kidness and heart knows no limits.

"Besides you did say you wanted to help the peopel from the undercity"

"This is different, we are talking about raising! adopting a kid!"

"So you are considering?" Jayce asks in the most hopeful tone ever.

Viktor just lets out another breath.

"Well, its not like they can go back and yes, orphan homes sucks" Viktor responds. "But we need to do this right. And i mean legally"

Jayce nods and all of him lights up like he has discover a new thing. He goes to Viktor carefully managing (Y/N) by his hands and leans down to peak Viktor's lips.

"Yes!! Totally! I will talk to Mel about it, im sure she can move some contacts for this" Jayce says and Viktor can see his brain making more and more plans.

"They also need clothes, and we should think of getting them into school" Viktor adds standing up with his cane and going closer. He can see (Y/N) eyes and cant denied how it makes his heart melts.

"Dad?" Its what you say looking at Viktor, then you look at Jayce "Mom?"

Jayce smiles and nods while Viktor is left without words. "Yes! We are your mom and dad now" he says pointing at him then at Viktor.

"Family?"

Jayce nods again

"...Chocolate?" You asks once more

"Alright thats all, if they eat too much sugar this place will be a disaster, you do remember we have dangerous things in here, right?"

Jayce nods at Viktor then whispers to you "We will get chocolate once we end work"

Viktor snorts then moves to his desk to finally start working and also to let his mind register everything. He hears the doors closing imagining Jayce went with you to talk to Mel.

But no, he feels a pull at his trousers and looks down at you who looks up at him extending your arms

"Dad! Up!"

Viktor does as told pulling you on his lap and passing you some papper and a pen. Both fall in a comfortable silence.

And Viktor thinks, this is something he can totally get used to.

[mountttmase]

Change Of Heart

The End - Part Six

Note - wow, I can’t believe we made it to the end 😭 thank you all so much for reading and for your kind words throughout. I really hoped you enjoyed this as much as I have and thank you again to Elisa for being so patient with me. I’d love to know what you all think and enjoyyyyy

Pairing - Mason Mount x Reader

Word count - 10.7k

Warnings - series contains angst & fluff

Day and night you thought about Mason. About what your life would be like if you got the guts to let him in and tell him how you really felt now but everytime you thought about it, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Months passed and all you did was fall deeper and deeper for your best friend. Seeing him more often than ever didn’t exactly help the situation either but the fact the pair of you were so domestic just made it all even harder.

You were in a perfect routine with him. Home games with you both in his shirt when you could and away games if they were close by. Dinner together as a family at least twice a week with Mason picking up Gee from nursery every Wednesday to give you some time to yourself but you knew he liked taking her out for treats as well. So much so you pretend you didn’t see anything when she came back with chocolate ice cream stains down her dress as her happy smile made up for all of it.

You wondered if he’d maybe caught onto the fact your feelings had changed. It felt so obvious to you in the way you acted around him now as he made you so nervous and flustered, but if it was obvious then he didn’t say anything. He was still your typical kind and loving Mason and you were trying so hard to be his best friend.

You didn’t know what was holding you back. You were pretty certain he felt the same but it had been so long since you’d heard him say anything of the sort you’d managed to talk yourself into thinking that his feelings had vanished. What exactly did you have to offer him anyway? You were a single mum who was just about getting by when he could no doubt have any girl he laid his eyes on.

That didn’t make you feel any less for him, if anything as the months went by all you did was fall for him more. He made you feel happy and warm and filled your house with so much laughter and love that when he wasn’t around you felt lost. Even when he was by your side you still found yourself drifting off into your own imagination to think about what life would be like if you were an item and right now was no different.

You knew Mason was talking, but the piece of paper in your pocket was burning a hole through your jeans and it wasn’t long before he noticed you were in your own world and bumped your shoulder gently.

‘Y/n? You listening to me?’ He scolded lightly. Turning to face you and he must have picked up on the moody look on your face as his face dropped as soon as you caught eyes. ‘Y/n? What’s wrong’

‘It’s nothing-‘

‘No don’t do that’ he interrupted, placing his arm around your shoulders for a bit of comfort and you had to refrain from nuzzling yourself into him further. ‘You know you can tell me’

‘It’s Gee’s nursery’ you huffed. Figuring you may as well come clean. ‘They’re putting on a parents day thing for Christmas and… I don’t know, I'm just overthinking it too much. You know what this time of years like, it’s all gonna be about families and there’s gonna be all those kids with both parents there for them and-’

‘Stop it. You give Gee everything. You’re mum and dad rolled into one and Gee loves you, she thinks you’re a superhero’ he reassured you and you didn’t realise how much you needed to hear that from him until he’d said it. Your eyes filling with tears as you hid you face away again to take some breaths but he held you the whole time.

‘Will you come? To parents day?’ You asked. His eyebrows shooting straight up in shock but you just sent him a reassuring smile. ‘I know it’s a bit of a weird ask but she’s actually invited you’ you laughed, looking at his confused face as you pulled the invitation out so he could see his name written on the front under yours in Gee’s best attempt at writing. ‘If you’re busy it’s fine but she’s written your name and everything’

‘Well how can I say no to that huh?’ He laughed and you could tell he was a little emotional about it as his eyes became glossy. ‘I reckon if we asked Woody over we could recreate that picture’ he laughed, trying to mask how emotional he was with a joke. ‘Where is Gee anyway? I’ll go tell her I’m coming’

‘Watching tv, she said she had a long day and needed to unwind’ you told him, rolling your eyes at her sass and he quickly placed a kiss on your head before going to join her.

You joined them too not long after. Laughing as they were both laid on their bellies with their faces in their hands so they could watch tv together and it struck you how alike they were. You always thought Gee could pass as Masons own child but having had him be around consistently for well over a year now they were like little twins.

'Do you wanna stay for dinner?' You asked him, brows raised as you looked over to him but there was an expression on his face you'd never seen before and it made your tummy drop.

'Oh um I can't, I've got plans already' he nodded. Sitting up to face you and scratching the back of his neck as he looked to the floor so you decided to play dumb and see what he said in hopes you could confirm your suspicions.

'Oh, is Woody visiting? You didn't tell me'

'No, it's um… it's no one you know' he shrugged and you knew he was never going to come out with it so you decided to call him out.

‘Wait a minute, are you going on a date?' You asked him and his face told you everything you needed to know. A sinking feeling in your tummy at the realisation but you made sure you kept it together.

'I date, I just don't broadcast it everywhere’ he laughed. Your mind reeling and trying to think back when he may have been out before with someone without you knowing but you shut it off quickly. Not liking how you felt when thinking about him with another girl but thankfully he didn't let you dwell on it as he stood up and gathered his things. 'I better go, I need a shower and everything. Are you alright?'

'Yeah fine, sorry um, have a nice time, yeah? Good luck’ you spluttered, trying to look busy so he couldn't see the heat travelling up your neck but his hand on your wrist made you stop in your tracks.

'Thanks love' he smiled, kissing your forehead quickly just like always but all you felt was sadness.

The rest of the evening went by slowly. You and Gee getting into your pjs after dinner so you could watch some Disney films under a blanket but you couldn’t focus on anything for too long. Thoughts of Mason and who he might be with filled your mind and you’d never felt more miserable.

If he was going out on dates then he’d clearly moved on and left his feelings for you in the past. It's not like you could blame him, you’d never given him a sign that you wanted anything more and he’d waited long enough. He deserved to be happy but it was tearing you apart that it wouldn’t be you that could give him what he needed now.

You were up and out early the next morning as you were meeting Ell for breakfast but you saw the way her face changed with just one look at you. Waiting until Gee and Tommy were in their respective seats before she dived in.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked carefully but you didn’t know what to say. She’d guessed a few months back that your feelings had changed for him a little bit but knew you weren’t ready to do anything about it and never pushed you. Right now you wished she’d had though and as you were still feeling just as miserable.

‘Mason, he’s um… he went in a date yesterday’

‘Okay?’ She breathed. Looking at you questioningly as if she couldn’t understand what the big deal was and you knew you’d have to explain further.

‘I don’t know, I just feel weird about it. He’s never told me before but I bet he’s been on loads. I mean look at him of course he has’ you sighed and you felt your eyes sting the more you thought about him with someone else.

‘Oh babe’ she pouted. Reaching over and taking you hand and as much as you didn’t want Gee seeing you upset you couldn’t seem to hold it together.

‘I’ve missed my chance haven’t I?’ You croaked. Using you other hand to quickly wipe your cheeks so your tears went as quickly as they came.

‘Not necessarily. You said he was just on a date right? That could be anything, it’s probably just a first date’ she tried to reassure you but your mind was already reeling.

‘Yeah but it could also be a third or a fifth or maybe he’s actually got a girlfriend and they’re in bed right now and she gets to kiss him and do all the things I should be doing’ you spiralled and before you knew it you were snatching your hand away from hers and grabbing your phone out of your bag. ‘That's it, I’m calling him’

‘Y/n, no! You can’t’ Ell cried out. Reaching for you phone and somehow snatching it from your hand before you’d even realised.

‘Why not?’

‘Whatever he’s doing he’s allowed to do! He’s single okay, don’t ruin it for him’ she told you and it’s like her words were a slap to the face.

She was right. He wasn’t yours anywhere else but in your own head so if he was in bed with someone else right now then it didn’t matter how much it was tearing you apart. He was well within his rights to see whoever he wanted and it made you feel like crap to think about. This was your own doing though and when you looked up to Ell she was looking at you sympathetically.

‘Look, i think you need to tell him how you feel’

‘I can’t’ you croaked, your emotions attempting to get the better of you but you swallowed them down as best you could.

‘You can, okay? This has gotten way out of hand like you can’t be trying to jeopardise his dates and keep tabs on him if you’re not going to tell him what’s going on in your head. So you either tell him how you’re feeling and move forward or you keep quiet and leave him be’ she told. ‘I’m sorry for the tough love babe, but I just want you to be happy and I know that Mason would give you the world if you just asked’

‘I don’t know, I’ll think about it’

‘Well I’m keeping hold of your phone until we’re done’ she winked and even though you knew she was being serious you knew she was trying to make you laugh.

You didn’t hear much from Mason over the next few days. You knew he was busy in recovery whilst also trying to get a few personal projects off the ground but you also didn’t feel like you could message him. Pulling yourself back from him a little bit as you were feeling awkward and sad about the whole situation but you knew deep down you were just incredibly jealous.

It got to the point where you weren’t sure if he was even coming to Gee’s performance anymore but as soon as you’d got in from work you felt your phone buzz and Masons name pop up on your screen.

The thought of seeing him the next day filled you with mixed emotions and you couldn’t tell if you were excited or completely terrified. One the one hand you knew you’d have to hear all about his date and how well it went but you but on the other hand you had missed him to the point you didn’t care and just wanted to be around him.

You dropped Gee off early so they could get her into her costume and asked Ell to save you two seats whilst you waited outside for Mason. He was taking a while though and you thought you might have to abandon him soon so you didn’t miss anything but as soon as you turned back to the door his voice rung through the car park.

‘Hey sugar’ you suddenly heard from behind you and when you turned to face him, he pulled you straight into a hug before you could even look at him.

‘Sugar?’ You laughed but he didn’t explain himself. Just held you tighter and buried himself into your neck. ‘I was beginning to think you’d be late’ you told him, pulling back and budging his shoulder but the ever persistent cheeky smile he gave you made you smile back just as wide.

‘Couldn’t find anywhere to park, I've been walking for about ten years’ he joked. Slinging his arm around your shoulder and kissing your forehead before his eye landed on the two huge Christmas trees dangling from your ears. ‘Nice earrings’

‘I’m just trying to get into the spirit of things’

‘Well you look great. Makes me look under dressed but I thought it was best I keep things on the down low’ he winked before his face turned a little more serious. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve seemed a bit off, I really wanted to be completely free today for Gee so I had to move some things around but you’ve got me uninterrupted for the rest of the day’

‘That’s okay, you don’t need to explain’ you told him but he just shrugged as he let you go so you could walk into the main reception.

‘I know, but I’ve missed you. I haven’t even had a second to think about anything else but work but it’s like now I’m back with my favourite people’

‘I’ve missed you, too’ you whispered. It hitting you then that you really had and now you knew he had the rest of the day free you thought you’d make sure you could spend as much time as you could with him. ‘Maybe after all this is over you can come back and we can catch up a bit more?’

‘Did you even need to ask’ he laughed.

Mason helped himself to the complimentary mince pies on the way into the hall before sending you a wink. Letting you lead him over to the two seats so he could say hello to Ell and Noah before you got settled for the show to begin.

‘So how was your little date the other night?’ You asked before you even realised what you’d said and you wished you could take it back. You didn’t want to know about him and any other woman but you couldn’t turn back time now. Not even having the courage to look at him as he answered but you knew he wasn’t looking your way either.

‘It was fine’ he shrugged.

‘Just fine?’

‘Yeah’

‘Wow Mase, say how you really feel’ you laughed sarcastically, your eyes flickering over to him for a second and you could see his cheeks were bright red and he was biting back a smile.

‘Fine, you wanna know how it really went?’ He asked, turning towards you in his seat as he wrapped his arms around the back of your chair and as much as you wanted to say no you didn’t.

‘Yes’ you whispered.

‘She didn’t stop talking, like non stop to the point she was talking whilst she ate and she accidentally spat pasta into my eye’

‘Oh Mase’ you giggled. Finally turning to look at him as you covered your mouth with your hand but he just rolled his eyes as he squeezed your shoulder.

Has he always been this gorgeous? you thought. His bright brown eyes full of warmth as he looked down at you and you could feel yourself blushing under his stare.

‘So yeah, that’s how it went’

‘Safe to say you won’t be seeing her again?’

‘Safe to say I won’t be seeing anyone again, at least not for a little while anyway. She’s traumatised me. The only other person I’ve seen that Messy with pasta is Gee’ he grumbled. Turning back in his seat as the lights were dimming and the show was almost about to start.

You felt a weight lift from your heart immediately knowing there was no other woman you had to worry about now but the reality finally settled in that you would have to let him know how you felt before another came along. He’d mentioned that he didn’t want to date but you didn’t know if he was being serious or not and figured you better tell him while you had the courage.

You noticed Gee as soon as she stepped out on stage in her Giant Christmas tree costume but you could tell straight away she couldn’t see you. Her eyes frantically searching the crowd as her bottom lip dropped in fear you might not be there but it was Mason who made himself known. Standing up and waving his arms whilst calling her name and she found him within an instant.

You thought Mason had wanted to be inconspicuous today from the way he was dressed and what he’d said earlier but that had clearly gone out the window as he’d just announced himself to the whole room so Gee wouldn’t get upset thinking you weren’t there for her.

It was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen, the look of relief washing over her face which quickly turned to excitement as she waved back at him before blowing multiple kisses to which he returned. A chorus of quiet awwws ringing out through the room as she continued to blow kisses to the whole crowd so after you’d given her a wave to let her know you were here too, you pulled Mason back down to sit next to you and he gave you a shy smile.

‘What happened to being on the down low?’ You laughed but he just pursed his lips with a smile and shrugged his shoulders.

‘Yeah that’s gone out the window a bit hasn’t it. I won’t have my baby girl being upset though, so it was worth it’ he told you but he must have caught onto the shocked expression on your face and knew he needed to explain a bit further. ‘I know she’s not mine, but she sort of is’

‘Sometimes I think she’s like your double’ you smiled at him. Thinking back to them sat watching tv together the other day but you didn’t have a chance to say anything else. The sound of rocking around the Christmas tree blaring through the speakers and suddenly everyone was silent.

You could barely see what Gee was doing through the tears that were welling in your eyes. It was a dance she’s been practising at home with you for weeks but to see her front and centre shaking her stuff as she sung her heart out made you feel like the proudest mum in the world and when Mason slid his hand into yours and squeezed it to offer you some comfort, you held on tightly.

It had been a long road to get here. Long nights of uncertainty of whether you were doing the right thing by becoming a single mum and moving hundreds of miles away from anyone you knew but it was moments like this that made you realise it was all worth it. She was the most important thing in your world, a reason for you to get up in the mornings and carry on and you knew as long as you had her you’d always have everything you’d always dreamed of.

Once all the theatrics were over about an hour later there was time for all the parents to chat but you mostly stuck with Ell as the pair of you didn’t really know any of the other mums, and you let Noah and Mason grab you all some drinks whilst you waited for all the kids to come out.

You knew all eyes were on Mason, and you knew he knew that too. Standing right by your side with his cap on low to hide his face but that was all out the window when Gee came back. Chucking her up in the air until she was giggling like a maniac and it wasn’t long before the first dad came over with their son to ask Mason for a cheeky autograph and a selfie.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ You asked, watching a mini queue form but he just shrugged as he turned to you with a big smile.

‘Probably not, but I hate saying no’ he told you and thankfully it didn’t take too long to get through everyone. The four of you deciding to head out and back yours for some food and you watched with a soft expression as Mason walked the kids back to your car with one on each hand.

As Mason was parked a road or two away he let you know he’d meet you back home and dashed off but as you reached for Gee, Ell stopped you.

‘I’ll take, Gee. You need to talk to him’ she told you firmly and you knew she was right.

‘I will’ you nodded. Quickly putting Gee’s car seat in Ell’s car and telling her you’d come and get her later but she seemed excited about going to Tommy's house for a bit.

You were full of nerves the whole ride back, trying to think about what you wanted to say but the ride was short and sweet and all you felt was an overwhelming sense of nerves by the time you got back.

‘Hey, where’s Gee? And I thought they were all coming back here?’ Mason asked as you got out of the car. He was lent against his own but he followed you up to the front door whilst you frantically thought of an excuse as to why you were on your own.

‘Oh um… Gee was kicking up a fuss about ice cream and wanting to see Ell’s Hamster so she’s taken her for a couple of hours with Tommy. Thought maybe we could finally have a bit more of a catch up like we said?’ You offered and he sent you a nod as his cheeks reddened.

‘Okay, yeah. Let’s do it’ he smiled shyly. Letting you lead him into the house before ushering him into the living room whilst you got him a drink.

You used the time you were in the kitchen to calm yourself down a bit. This was Mason you thought to yourself and when you made it back to the living room he was looking at you with a huge smile as he waved his phone in the air.

‘You fancy a cheeky maccies? I didn’t have lunch I’m bloody starving’

‘Go on then’ you laughed. Taking his phone from him so you could add your order and before long you were chatting away as you shoved nuggets in your mouth. Thankfully the pair of you kept away from the whole dating topic and just spoke about upcoming plans and how he’d been playing recently after another short spell out but thankfully he was in good spirits about it all.

‘I fancy a coffee, you want one?’ You asked him after you finished off your last fry and he was nodding his head as he shoved the last in of his own so you quickly tidied up and made your way to the kitchen to make you both one. It suddenly hitting you that you hadn’t spoken about what you’d meant to as you were so caught up in just being together so you used the few minutes the kettle was boiling to think about how you were going to broach the subject.

‘What you watching?’ You asked as you walked back in with his coffee. Placing it down on the coffee table before taking a seat next to him and when he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his body you just went with it. Cuddling up with him on the sofa and he scrubbed the video back to the beginning.

It was a video of Gee from earlier, right at the front singing her song and doing her little dance and you felt your eyes sting again at how proud you were of the tiny human you’d created.

‘She’s so funny, I still can’t believe I cried through the whole thing’

‘That’s why I thought I better record it, thought you wouldn’t be able to see much through all the tears in your eyes’ he laughed but you just patted him on the chest playfully.

You both sat and laughed at how into it she was, cuddling into Mason like you couldn’t get close enough and when you looked up at him as the video finished his lips were merely an inch from yours.

The air shifted within a nanosecond. Time suddenly standing still as he froze in front of you and you did the only thing you wanted to and pushed up slightly. Placing your lips on his in a gentle kiss before pulling back to gage his reaction but he hadn’t moved. He didn't kiss you back but you didn’t exactly give him a chance to and he wasn’t backing off so you leaned in again in hopes this time he’d reciprocate. Thankfully after a beat or two he did and as you both sighed into each other's mouths you deepened the kiss even further.

It was like any sense of anything left your bodies as you kissed each other. Your free hand holding his jaw as he kissed you back softly and you thought you might have died and gone to heaven. Not believing yourself that this was the first kiss the pair of you had ever shared and your tummy was fluttering with how gentle he was being with you. Both lost in each other as you wondered what had taken this long to get here but soon you didn’t have time to think for too much longer. Feeling Mason pulling away and she shook himself out of whatever trance he was in and you felt all the blood in your body rush to your cheeks.

‘Shit, sorry y/n I-‘

‘No don’t be sorry, it wasn’t you. I kissed you first’

‘Yeah but I shouldn’t have kissed you back’

‘Why?’ You breathed, confused as to why he seemed so upset with himself but he was now looking back at you just as confused.

‘Cause you don’t want this’ he told you, speaking to you like he was talking to a crazy person. ‘You’ve told me this isn’t what you want so many times-‘

‘I was wrong, I do want this’ you cut him off, sitting up properly so you could finally speak to him properly about your feelings but this wasn’t how you expected it to be coming out or for him to be looking back at you.

Shocked? Maybe. But horrified? This wasn’t on your list.

‘What? I don’t… what do you mean?’

‘I was just confused, I’ve wanted you and us for the longest time I swear. I heard you talking to Gee when she was a baby and telling her how you still loved me and-‘

‘What? That was years ago’

‘I know, and I’ve been thinking about it for years’

‘You knew and you didn’t say anything? He asked, his voice easing slightly but you knew it was just because he was upset with you.

‘Mase please just listen’ you pleaded. The hurt across his face was unbearable and you wanted to reassure him in some way but you were so flustered you couldn't get anything out properly. ‘You’re my best friend, yeah? Always have been but hearing you still loved me, like after all this time still, it just made me wonder what life would be like if things were different and somewhere along the way I got confused like you’re so good with Gee especially after Jack left you really held us all together and you’re always there for her-‘

‘So because I’m good with Gee you think that’s enough?’

‘No, not at all Mason that’s just an extra-‘

‘So what then? Are you confused?’ He cut you off and you’re starting to get frustrated at how he kept batting you away.

‘No Mase’ you huffed, wishing he would just listen but you understood why he wasn’t.

‘Well what is it?’ He demanded. His voice desperate as he moved himself away from you and you felt your heart plummet as he moved to stand on the other side of the room.

‘Will you let me just talk? You know how much I hate being interrupted’

‘Let me guess, Jack always did the same?’ He scoffed and you were confused as to why he’d bought him up even if he was right.

‘Well yeah he did, and I don’t need you doing the same’

‘Why do you always fucking do that?’ He exploded and you were taken aback by the way he was being. He’d never once spoken to you like this before and whilst you knew you had nothing to be afraid of in anyway it still shocked you.

‘Do what?’

‘Comepare me to him all the fucking time?’

‘I don’t-‘ you defended but it was no use. Mason was furious and ready to give you it with both barrels.

‘You do!’ He insisted even louder. ‘Apart from what we’ve got between our legs I’m nothing like him and you know it’

‘Mase-‘

‘When he left, who picked up the pieces and expected nothing in return, huh? It was me, yeah? It was me and I’ve looked after you and Gee like she was my own ever since just for you to tell me I’m the same as the scumbag that never deserved you? Who left at the first sign of a struggle. It was me that stepped up, me that took care of everything, of you, and you take every chance you get to tear me down’

‘Mase please’ you sobbed. Wanting him to calm down a bit so you could talk rationally but every word that came out of your mouth seemed to just wind him up more.

‘And now you wanna tell me you wanna be with me? You’ve known how I’ve felt about you this whole fucking time and you’d stayed silent. Why now huh? Why have you strung me along for so long? so I can babysit?’

‘That’s not it-‘

‘What is it then? I’m good with Gee and you think that’s all it takes for us to work? You didn’t say one thing about me, it was all about what I can give to you’ he carried on. Getting more wound up with each word that came out of his mouth and you had no idea how to stop him now.

‘Mason please, I got confused’ you whimpered and even though he’d stopped shouting you could see he wasn’t done yet. Expelling all the air from his lungs in a shaky breath before sliding his hands over his face and you wondered what he was about to hit you with next but to your surprise his voice was much quieter yet more emotional.

‘I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember y/n’ he croaked and you felt your heart shatter as his bottom lip wobbled. ‘Everytime i see you I can feel it and it’s torn me apart that you’ve never felt the same’

‘Thats what im trying to tell you though, i have, I do feel the same Mason, I just couldn’t tell you’

‘Why not ?’ He demanded, but you didn’t have an answer for him. Not a reasonable sounding enough one anyway but Mason was coming to his own conclusions as he looked at you. ‘Is this because I went on a date the other night?’

‘No-‘

‘It is, isn't it? You thought you had me wrapped around your finger but now you know i'm not you’re saying you like me so I don’t leave you’

‘Will you just stop-‘

You were cut off by your phone ringing in the side, looking down to see it was Ell and you knew you had to answer so you quickly cleared your throat before picking up in hopes you’d sound as normal as possible.

‘Hey Ell, everything okay?’

‘Yeah fine, I think little miss is getting tired though, I think it’s best you come get her’

‘Of course. I won’t be long, okay?’ You told her but before you’d even hung up Mason was already making his way to the door.

‘I’ll go, I need some air’ he told you, leaving before you could say anything else and once you were finally alone you let yourself fall to the sofa and let your emotions out properly.

Even in your worst case scenario in your head you never envisioned this happening. You figured he’d be somewhat confused and a but unsure at first but the pure rage coming from him was so out of character and you weren’t sure what the future held for the two of you now.

You knew Mason could tell you’d been crying when he got back. Placing Gee on the floor so she could run to you and you scooped her up and held her close whilst Mason shuffled uncomfortably at the door.

‘Listen, I’m gonna head off yeah. Let you put Gee to bed’ he nodded quietly and you felt your heart sink.

‘Oh’ you breathed, wondering why he didn’t want to stay and talk things through, especially after how upset you clearly were but you just nodded and placed Gee back on the floor. ‘Go say goodbye to Uncle Masey and we’ll get ready for a bath, yeah?’

Your heart broke as he placed little kisses all over her face, her giggles filling the hall as he told her he’d see her soon before nudging her back to you.

‘I’ll um, I’ll see you soon then’

‘Okay’ you whispered, unable to look at him so you picked Gee up and made your way up the stairs without another look at him. Your tummy dropping when you heard the door shut a few moments after and you knew he’d gone.

Gee was quiet as you got her bathed and ready for an early night. Not sure if it was because she was tired from the days events or she could tell you were upset but you were thankful that she wanted to go to sleep now even if she was being a little clingy. You stayed with her though until she was fully out but all you were thinking about was Mason and how you’d both move on from here.

That would have to wait for now though. All you could think about was the chocolate cake in your fridge that you’d saved for a moment alone so when you were certain Gee was definitely fast asleep, you gently kissed her head and made your way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

‘Fuck!’ You squealed. Hands clutching at your chest as your heart threatened to burst free. The sight in the corner of your eye making you do a double take before you were jumping out of your skin. ‘What the fuck, Mason’

‘Sorry’ he whispered. Standing by the fridge with his arms crossed over his body and you noticed he hadn’t looked directly at you once.

‘How did you get back in? I never heard you’ you asked, gulping to try and readjust your breathing as inconspicuously as you could but it didn’t really matter as his eyes were still trained on the floor.

‘I never left in the first place’ he told you and you realised that when you heard the door shut earlier he never actually left but had simply shut the door and waited downstairs for you.

He’d stayed for a reason, but you weren't quite sure if he knew what that was. Clearly he wanted to talk but right now he had his arms still crossed over his body and his head down as he looked at his shoes but you could tell he was chewing on his bottom lip which meant he was trying to keep his emotions in.

All you wanted to do was comfort him. Not sure if he wanted you close to him but you pushed that to the side and slowly made your way over to stand right in front of him.

He didn’t move a muscle, just kept his eyes down as you waited for him to look at you, but you knew he wouldn’t without a little encouragement so in the end you held him at his jaw and tilted his head up so he’d finally look at you. The tears welling in his eyes made your heart ache and all you wanted was to reassure him and let him know you were serious.

‘I’m so sorry, Mase’ you whispered, your tummy dropping as he shut his eyes and his tears spilled over. Wiping them away as quickly as you could before uncrossing his arms and placing them around your waist in hopes he’d hug you and once your arms were around his neck he pulled you in as close as he could.

‘I’m sorry for shouting at you’ he whispered. His voice full of tears as he spoke into your neck, but you just shook your head to let him know it was okay.

‘It’s okay, i probably deserved it’

‘No you didn’t, I just… I’m so confused’ he told you, peeling himself away so he could look at you properly and you hated the way he looked so vulnerable.

‘Shall we talk then? Talk properly and figure it all out?’

‘Okay’ he nodded and you took his hand to lead him back into the living room so you could talk. The smell of your untouched coffees from earlier still hanging thick in the air as you tried to clear your mind of all the angry words he’d thrown your way not too long ago but you could tell he was in a completely different mind set now. The anger subsided and vulnerability in its place and you just prayed you could finally get your thoughts together and tell him how you felt properly.

‘I’m a bit nervous’ he chuckled. Making sure you were comfy on the sofa as he tucked you into his side and you smiled up at him as you were feeling the exact same.

‘Me too. I don’t really know where to start’ you laughed and even though he’d clearly calmed down and wanted to talk you still didn’t want to set him off again.

‘You said you heard me talking to Gee once? What did you hear?’ He asked quietly but he could see you were nervous to talk so he took your hand and squeezed it gently. ‘It’s okay, you can tell me. I’m not gonna have a strop again I promise’ he chuckled and you felt your shoulder relax.

‘It was when she called you dada for the first time and you told her you weren’t but you wished you were’ you whispered, watching him recall that moment in his head but thankfully he was still smiling softly. ‘That you loved us and that it hurt knowing I was your person but I didn’t see it’

‘I see’

‘That’s not when I realised my feelings had changed though’ you confirmed and you noticed his brows furrow in confusion.

‘When was it?’

‘When you stayed with us that week before you moved into your house and you told me I had to share you with Gee‘ you laughed. ‘It just slapped me in the face that I don’t want to share you with anyone. And then her second birthday party you were just perfect and it made me feel all this new things for you that I never had’

‘That was over a year ago, love. Why the change of heart? Why tell me now?’ He asked quietly and you could tell he was in a completely different headspace to earlier.

‘Cause you were right’ you wept, using your free hand to dry your eyes so you could carry on talking sensibly but you were finding it hard to hold it together. ‘I didn’t like the thought of you going on a date the other night and I almost called you the morning after thinking you were still with her in hopes I could ruin it but Ell stopped me. I know how it sounds, I know. But it’s not me messing you around or keeping you wrapped around my finger. I’ve just had enough of keeping things to myself when I know we could be happy together’

‘I just don’t get why you haven’t said something before. I thought we told each other everything’ he told you sadly and you knew you had to just be open with him.

‘I was scared’

‘Of what, love?’

‘That you’d react like you did’ you laughed and even though he was smiling back you could tell he was still feeling guilty about it all. ‘Plus when you were talking to Gee that one time you told her you’d try to move on and I didn’t want to make an idiot out of myself just in case you had’

‘All you had to do was tell me and I would have been yours from that very second’ he told you matter of factly but you didn’t like the way he was using the past tense.

‘Does that mean you won’t be now?’ You pouted. Eyes full of tears that you’d waited so long to come clean but he just smiled at you softly and pushed the hair out of your eyes so he could see you better.

‘Why do you think I'm here, love?’ He asked quietly but you just shrugged as you looked down to your lap. Tears spilling down your cheeks but he was quick to hook his finger under your chin and make you look at him again. ‘I think about you, and what we could have, every fucking day’ he whispered. ‘I’ve loved you since we were kids, that’s not something I can just throw away and move on from’

‘I know it’s taken me a while to realise it but I love you too, Mase. I really do’ You gulped. ‘I’ve never felt like this about anyone before and I’ve never felt how you make me feel before’

‘What do you mean?’ He asked. Trying to contain his smile at the fact you’d just told him you loved him but he needed more from you clearly.

‘When Jack left me… well I’d never felt so ugly in my whole life. I hated everything about myself you know, like no matter what I did I was never enough’ you told him. ‘But you’ve always made me feel beautiful’

‘That’s cause you were. You are beautiful, y/n. So so fucking beautiful’ he whispered as he pulled you further into his lap and you were so close now your noses were touching as you spoke.

‘I think there’s this part of me that’s felt like I’ve never deserved you. You’re you, you know? And I’m a mess. A single mum who’s just about getting by like what do I have to offer you?’

‘Don’t ever say that again’ he whispered. Cutting you off as he cupped your jaw and stroked your cheeky softly. ‘You deserve whoever you want and whoever makes you happy. And I know I will do everything I can every single day to make you happy’

‘I know you will, you already do. This last year has driven me insane’ you laughed. ‘I don’t know how you’ve done it for so many years’

‘Well they say If you love someone you set them free. And if it’s meant to be you’ll find your way back to each other. We always find our way back no matter what happens right? That's got to count for something’ he told you and before you knew it the ghost of your favourite cheeky smile was adorning his lips. ‘You try and put 240 miles between us and i will hunt you down’

‘Well when you say that…’ you laughed, trying to pull away from him as a joke but he was having none of it. Pulling you in even closer so he could kiss your cheek and the feel of his lips on your hot skin made you shiver.

‘I really am sorry for earlier, I didn’t mean to go off like I did. I think I was just in panic mode and it’s been hard on me too. Like coming here and getting to play house with you sometimes but knowing I’d never get that happy ending was a lot but I still did it cause I’d take what I can get with you’ he confessed quietly. ‘That still doesn’t make it right though’

‘It’s okay, a lot of what you said earlier made sense but I need you to know I didn’t fall for you just because you’re good with Gee I promise’ you told him. ‘Even though you’ve stepped up and basically been her father figure without me asking you too. You know I’ll always be thankful for that’

‘Well I love the pair of you more than anything. And I get why me having a good relationship with Gee is so important to you’

‘It’s hard, being a mum and wanting to do right by your kids whilst also trying to have a bit of happiness for yourself’ you sniffed, not having spoken to him about this topic before but since you both seemed to be getting stuff off your chests you figured you’d go for it. Letting him wrap you up close to his chest so you could take in a breath of his relaxing scent before you continued. ‘Gee’s always been a big factor as to why I’ve held back with relationships cause as much as I want someone for myself, she’s my whole life, you know? She’s part of me and I’d never forgive myself for bringing someone into our bubble that could hurt us. So yeah, your relationship with Gee is huge for me cause I don't have to worry about that. You said it yourself earlier she’s basically yours and I don’t think I’ll every trust another man with her like I trust you with her’

‘And I promise you, you’ll never have to even think about trusting someone else okay? You guys are my family. Always have been always will be’ he told you softly and you had to pull back again to look at him as you missed his face already.

‘I’m sorry too though, for keeping it from you, and for comparing you to Jack a lot. I didn’t realise I was even doing it but now I do and I need you to know you’re nothing like him’ you told him tearily and you could see it all over his face how much that meant to him.

‘Thank you’ he whispered, tears still flowing down your cheeks that he gently wiped away and you could see from the frown on his face he didn’t like that you were so upset still. ‘Hey come on, please stop crying baby’ he whispered, the pet name making you smile wider than you had all evening as your tummy swarmed with butterflies. ‘I can’t kiss you again if you keep crying, and I really wanna kiss you right now’

‘You can still kiss me’ you chuckled. Letting him help wipe your cheeks so you didn’t look so upset and when he cupped your jaw you felt your heart flutter at what was about to happen.

If he was as nervous as you then he didn’t show it too much as he tipped your face up towards his. A small smile on his lips as his eyes flashed downward but you could see his pupils had dilated whilst his breathing had deepened but you couldn’t look for too much longer. Shutting your eyes just before his lips touched yours and you felt every nerve ending in your body sing. Your mind foggy as he carefully brushed his lips against yours but you felt whole for the first time in a long time.

‘I’ve waited ten years for that kiss’ he whispered. Lips ghosting yours as he peppered kisses to the corner of your mouth and back and you couldn’t stop giggling before he captured your lips once more.

‘Sorry it took so long’

‘Don’t be. I’d wait another ten, you know that right?’

‘I can’t believe I’ve been so blind this whole time’ you sniffed. Resting your hands on his chest as another wave of guilt hit you. ‘I’ve been so in my head about Jack and then trying to look after Gee and then the move. It’s like all I’ve been doing is trying to keep my head above the water but now I feel like I can take a breath and my visions cleared and you’ve been standing right under my nose this whole time’ you breathed, feeling him pull you closer into his body. ‘I’ve never told you enough how much I love you, like even just as friends. I know I was never great to you over the years and I’m just so sorry for how I’ve acted and how I’ve made you feel all this time. Kinda makes me wonder why you even still like me’ you giggled but just smiled as he rubbed his nose against yours.

‘Cause I don’t just like you, I’m in love with you. Good days, bad days and everything in between. Yes it’s been rough but even if I knew it would hurt as much as it has sometimes I would have still loved you like I do now’ he whispered. Tears springing to your eyes again but you were determined to keep them inside. ‘But I understand, my minds kinda blown and I don’t really get any of this either like when I woke up this morning this wasn’t on my bingo card’

‘Well I’ve been thinking about you for a while and Ell told me I had to be honest with you’

‘Yeah? What have you been thinking?’ He asked, clearly wanting to tease you even more and the prospect of saying divulging even more made you blush furiously as you tried to stutter out a response but he was quick to kiss your cheek and squeeze your sides. ‘You can just say you fancy me, it’s okay’

‘You’re unbelievable’ you laughed. Not being sure if you wanted to pull away or nuzzle in closer but you went for the latter in the end. Wrapping your arms around his neck to you could hold each other and you could feel yourself melting in his arms.

‘And you’re tired’ he whispered into your neck, making you laugh at the way he could read you so well. This whole evening had been exhausting but there was still so much you wanted to ask him. ‘Do you wanna head to bed?’

‘Only if you’re coming with me’

‘Of course’ he whispered, squeezing you tightly for a moment before pulling away and helping you to stand. ‘We can talk some more up there I just wanna be comfy’

You both got ready for bed fairly quickly and Mason was under the covers before you meaning he could warm it all up just as you liked. You’d shared a bed with Mason a few times over the years but this felt different, every other time he’d been basically fully clothed but this time he was just in his boxers and your mouth was watering at the view of his chest. He could tell you were a little bit nervous so he pulled the covers back and tucked you into his side just like normal. Your cheeks flaming as he held your jaw and kissed you again gently but your mind was still reeling with questions.

‘Can I ask you something, cause I feel like you never told me’ you asked as you pulled away from each other.

‘Yeah? Course you can’ he laughed tickling your side gently as you got settled on his chest, his skin warm against your own and after you’d nuzzled yourself into him a bit you were looking up at him with a smile.

‘Why did you pick United?’ You asked and you saw his cheeks redden a touch like he knew why you were asking.

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘I’m just curious. There’s so many other clubs that were in for you’ you shrugged before settling your head back down but you noticed his heart rate had picked up slightly.

‘Why do you think I chose here?’

‘I don’t know’ you shrugged. Hoping if you played dumb and not accuse him he’d come out and tell you.

‘I mean I picked here cause I thought it would be the best fit for me but I can’t lie and say the thought of being closer to you wasn’t at the forefront of my mind’ he confessed quietly. Confirming what you sort of had always suspected and rather than scare him off you kept your head down and traced patterns on his chest gently to see if he’d elaborate.

‘Yeah?’

‘When you first told me you were moving, I was so crushed. I thought that was it, you know? Any shot of us ever being more than friends was gone but not even just that. You were so far away it’s like I wouldn’t know if you’re safe or not and it tore me apart that I couldn't protect you anymore. Especially you being up here when Gee was so little. So yeah, you being here made have made it on the list of pros for signing here’

‘It’s your life, mase. I would have never expected to be on your list for something that big’

‘You forget, you are my life. You and pickle are everything to me like even after you told me you didn’t want this I’ve still never been able to let you go. And maybe that sounds a bit pathetic but I just always knew deep down we’d get there one day’

‘Well here we are’ you laughed.

‘Here we are’ he smiled. Kissing your forehead gently before looking down at you with a coy smile. ‘Anything else I need to confess to? Come on, out with it’ he laughed, knowing you and more to say and you figured since he was on a roll you may as well ask no matter how insane you seemed.

‘When you said you date… like how often are we talking?’ You laughed. ‘Cause I had no idea no idea, you’ve never mentioned anything before so it was a bit of a shock’

‘I mean it wasn’t often, every now and then. I’m not all that good at dating I’d don’t think, seemed to just compare everyone to you’ he laughed, rolling his eyes a little bit. ‘But after you moved up here I was with someone for a few months’ he confessed and even thought it was over quite clearly you still felt a weird sinking feeling in your tummy.

‘Oh? Was it serious?’ You asked carefully but he just shrugged.

‘Could have been. But then I had to move and she wasn’t up for long distance so we decided to leave it. I think she kinda knew my feelings towards you too so that probably didn’t help but since moving up I’ve only been on like two dates including last weeks’

‘Does that make me your third time lucky’ you smiled. Your fingers gently tracing his ribs as he smiled back down at you and you couldn’t help but reach up to peck his lips gently.

‘No way, you’ve always been my number one’

‘Is that why you didn’t tell me?’

‘Sort of, I guess I was just holding out hope that you’d come round one day and I didn’t want you thinking I’d moved on from you even if you didn’t care that I had at the time. I didn’t even really want to tell you about last weeks but you’d figured it out and I couldn’t lie. I hope that doesn’t make you feel any differently about me’

‘Not at all. You’re a human Mase, and I wouldn’t expect you to wait for me if I was giving you nothing back. You don’t have to worry about that anymore though cause I wanna give you everything’

‘Oh yeah’ he grinned. His eyebrows wiggling suggestively but you just rolled your eyes as you tapped his chest.

‘Yeah. Like I fell for you because of how I feel when I’m with you and I wanna reciprocate that, you know? I want you to feel all the love you make me feel every single day’

‘I feel it, always have done’ he whispered but all you knew was that you wanted to give home more.

‘Well then buckle up cause you’re about to be overwhelmed’ you laughed. Cupping his jaw and kissing him again but this time he didn’t let you go. Chasing your lips when you went to pull away but it was his hand that was on your lower back that was begging to explore your skin that made your heart race even faster. Gasping into his mouth as he gave your bum a cheeky squeeze and you both pulled away breathless before anyone took things any further.

‘I can’t believe I get to kiss you now. 15 year old me is losing his mind’ he chuckled, pecking your cheek as you both got your breath back. ‘If you wanna be my third time lucky you’re gonna have to let me take you out on a date then’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, of course. How about this, Lew is coming up next week so he can make a start on some Christmas stuff, why don’t I ask if he can have Gee for an evening and I’ll take you out. I’ve been planing this in my head for years so all you need to do is turn up’

‘Yeah?’ You laughed, loving the excited expression on his face but you were just as excited to get to experience whatever he was dreaming up for the pair of you.

‘As long as you don’t spit pasta in my eye’ he winked and you knew that was a promise you could most definitely keep.

🤍Four Years Later🤍

‘Gee! You ready to go baby?’ You called, standing by the door with her bag and everyone else’s belongings.

‘Coming!’ She shouted. Her footsteps bounding down the stairs suddenly and as you looked to your left, she was running up besides you with a big smile on her face.

‘I’m gonna put all your stuff in the car, okay pickle?.’

‘Where’s daddy?’ She questioned, not wanting to leave without him clearly but you just smiled and stroked the top of her head.

‘He’s coming baby, don’t worry’ you reassured her and she gave you a quick nod to let you know she understood.

‘Right that’s all locked up out back, just need to do the front. We ready?’ Mason smiled, rounding the corner from the kitchen before his eyes were on you. A cheeky and excited look on his face as he wrapped his arms around your waist and even though you two were excited, you were full of nerves at what you were about to do. ‘You okay love?’

‘I’m nervous’ you giggled. ‘I can’t believe we’re finally going’

‘I always promised we would, didn’t I?’

‘You did’ you whispered smiling up at him before he dropped a soft kiss to your lips.

‘Which one are you taking?’ Mason asked. Looking over to Gee who had a protective hand on the handle of the car seat which made your heart thump in your chest.

‘You take Gee and lock up, I’ll get Leo in the car’ you smiled and with another quick kiss to your lips Mason had picked gee up and was stuffing her into a hoodie so she wasn’t cold.

‘Come on little man, let’s get you all strapped in, yeah?’ You cooed. Watching Leo giggle as you tickled his tummy.

Leo was around 10 months old now and he was the apple of Masons eye. You still remember the look on Masons face when you told him you were expecting and even though it was a bit of a shock, it was something the pair of you had spoken about often and you knew he was waiting to hopefully give Gee a sibling.

When you’d first booked this trip, the pair of you had no idea about Leo even existing. His arrival making you question if you should postpone the trip you’d always dreamed of but Gee was already excited and with Leo being such a calm little guy you figured you should just go for it and finally live your dream.

‘Hey mate, you all ready to go?’ Mason asked him sweetly. Coming up behind you as you’d finally got him sat in the car all strapped in and that was all it took for Leo to send him a bright gummy smile. He was such a happy baby but he always reserved his biggest smiles for his daddy.

‘Daddy! Come on!’ Gee suddenly called from the seat in the back next to Leo. Clearly getting frustrated you hadn’t left yet but Mason just playfully rolled his eyes as he smiled down at you.

‘She gets that from you, you know’ he winked. Dropping a heavy kiss on your lips before bending down to talk to Gee. ‘Oi you, I’ll throw you with the lions when we get there if you’re not careful’ he teased but Gee was giggling soon after as he began to hype her up about the trip and get her excited, behaving like he was your third child.

‘Come on, we best head off’ you laughed. Pulling his arm so he’d look at you and the smile on his face made your heart flutter. ‘You sure you got everything?’

‘Got all my people, that’s all I need’ he beamed. Cupping your jaw and kissing you deeply to the point you knees went weak.

‘I can’t believe we're actually doing this, it’s like my biggest dreams coming true. I know I’ve said it a million times but thank you. I love you so much, dimples’ you smiled and it was worth it to watch the blush creep over his cheeks like always when you called him that.

‘I love you, too’ he whispered. Squeezing your sides softly as he kissed you again. ‘But what have I told you about calling me dimples?’

‘Doesn’t matter what you say, your face says it all’ you whispered. Knowing how much he complained about the nickname you’d given him shortly after you’d finally gotten together, but you just didn’t believe him. Watching the way he’d turn into a blushy mess each time told you he secretly loved it and you loved making Mason feel good. ‘Come on then, before Gee loses the plot’

‘Your chariot awaits Mrs Mount’

‘Easy, I’m not Mrs Mount yet’ you laughed, tapping his chest and even though it was something you’d spoken about, Mason was yet to pop the question.

‘It’s only a matter of time’ he whispered. Kissing your head before he let you go and get in the car but it was only when you were out of sight that he checked his pocket for a very important piece of cargo. The small black box felt huge between his fingers but he couldn’t think of a more perfect time for him to ask the girl of his dreams to be his wife than on the trip of her dreams with their two babies in tow. Finally getting to be the family the both of you had always dreamed of.

y/n

liked by masonmount, ell_197, lukeshaw23 and others

y/n wild and free… but not for long 😌 it’s always been a dream of mine to come here but i never imagined just how special it could be. The easiest yes I’ve ever had to say 🤍

masonmount the easiest question I’ve ever had to ask 😏 I love our little family so much ❤️

y/n I love you more, dimples 🥰

masonmount 🙄

ell_197 it’s about damn time guys!!! So so excited for you, congratulations 🥳 🩷 I knew this trip would be special for you girly but who knew just how much 🥺

masonmount yeah I’ve left it a little late huh 😂

y/n he’s lucky he’s cute 🤭 can’t wait to start planning with you Ell! 🩷

lukeshaw23 he finally did it huh 😂 he’s been talking to me about it for months. Thank you for saying yes so he doesn’t have to come and live with me!

y/n why do I feel like you’re saying this because you actually want thank you happen 😂

Mummy_y/n oh I’m over the moon. I remember watching you two growing up and knowing you’d be in each other lives for a very long time. So glad you’ve found your soulmate baby girl 🩷

y/n Mumma 🥺 he’s been here this whole time I’m just glad I finally saw 😭

Tag list - @saltyheartnightmare @harvestmount @prideofpd @sid-vii @carlottawllms @footiehoemcfc @katharinanadiaa @whenelifallsinlove @neverinadream @cityzenchick @msnmnt @stikkibun @masonmtxo @chillymountsjess @yoursselo @maseymm @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @leclerc13

[jasvtsc]

terminally ill!dean winchester x reader.

dean knew that he didn’t have much time.

after discovering that he had blood clots in his brain that were pretty much incurable, because of a spell some witch cast on him, he didn’t know what to do. for the first time in his life, he felt so…

lost.

and when he thought about it better, he realized that he was all alone.

sure, there were people in his life. he had his brother and his friends. but he didn’t have his own person. everyone had someone. sam had a whole family, castiel was back in heaven doing some angel duty type shit and the rest of them? they weren’t that close.

so yeah, everyone had someone. but dean? he was lonely.

how else, after all he was the one who got rid of you in the first place. he still had this bitter feeling about your break up. not to mention the guilt that was eating him alive since that day.

as the type of person who avoids any type of feelings like fire, he did the same with you. as soon as you were getting too close to his liking, he got scared and immediately ran away. he came up with some shit, how he just got bored of you and it was all causal from the beginning — you were just imagining things, there was no relationship.

when in fact he loved you. and he loved you like crazy.

and the knowledge that he was about to die soon (where this time there was no coming back), he was actually scared.

all he wanted was one day with you.

but even when he was standing on the front porch of your house, he hesitated, his hand halfway up to the door as he didn’t know if he should knock. however, he had nothing to lose at this point. even if you screamed at him how much you hated him and punched him repeatedly, he’d take it. he’d do everything, just to see you this one last time.

so, he knocked.

and when you opened the door, you didn’t know if you were seeing things now or what. there he was — dean fucking winchester, in the flesh.

you debated whether you should kick him out or kick him. the fucking audacity to appear at your doorstep after all these years? yeah, well, you weren’t as strong-willed as you wanted to be so soon enough, he was sitting in your kitchen, having a cup of coffee.

“so, kids, huh?” he hummed, looking around at all the different pictures of your little family — your partner and two kids probably around the age of four and two.

and he couldn’t help but feel nauseous at the thought that it could be him if if wasn’t for the fact that he was a fucking coward. it was enough to make him want to turn back time and undo everything.

he missed you, so much.

and at this point, he regretted his whole life spent on avoiding commitment. maybe then, he’d have someone who would care for him enough to have a family together. maybe then, he’d get to be the father he once dreamed of being. he had always been good with kids and he wanted to even have some of his own one day — with you.

but of course, he had to fuck it up like everything else in his life.

“what do you want, dean?” you sighed tiredly, rubbing your temple. this whole situation was already giving you a headache and you had a feeling that it was about to get worse.

you weren’t wrong.

“well, you see—“ he cleared his throat and began to explain his situation. he didn’t want pity or sympathy. he didn’t want to guilt trip you. he just wanted you… to know. that’s all. “—so, i just wanted to see you again. one last time,” he said with a sheepish smile, quickly looking away.

because as soon as he noticed the tears gathering in your beautiful eyes, that once had held so much love for him, he felt like he was about to cry himself.

“how much time do you have?” you asked, your voice trembling as you looked at him in disbelief. it felt so surreal to know that the man you once loved was actually dying. and there was nothing you could’ve done about it.

“i don’t know,” he shrugged.

a fucking lie.

he knew exactly how much time he had left — just a few hours. he already said his goodbyes to everyone and you were the last one on his list. and the reason was pretty simple — he wanted to spend his last moments with the love of his life.

with the one that got away.

a/n: so yeah, this one was inspired by a kdrama called mr. plankton (that shit DESTORYED ME i actually need a few business days to get it together lmao) and ig i just keep on being emo

༄♡ tags: @internetitgirl17 @beausling @deanswidow @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @fitxgrld @figthoughts @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @titsout4nicholas

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 30/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, age gap, angst, fluff

Word Count: 7782

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

A while later, Jensen stepped behind Danneel into her hotel room, feeling the weight of the evening bearing down on him. He was tired—tired of the endless back and forth, tired of the emotional tug-of-war, and tired of pretending that things were okay when they clearly weren’t. But before he could dwell too long on his weariness, he heard the familiar patter of small feet and a chorus of excited voices.

"Dad!", JJ and the twins shot toward him, their faces lighting up with excitement the moment they spotted him. Instantly, Jensen’s exhaustion melted away as his kids wrapped their arms around his legs and torso, jumping up to hug him. He knelt down, scooping them up into his arms as best as he could, grinning despite everything.

“Hey, hey!”, Jensen laughed, hugging them tightly. “I missed you guys”.

JJ was the first to pull back, looking up at him with a mischievous grin. “We missed you too, Dad! We were waiting forever!”, she exaggerated, her hands gesturing wildly, as if they’d been waiting hours longer than they actually had.

“Forever, huh?”, Jensen teased, ruffling her hair. “Well, I’m here now”.

The twins clung to him, babbling over each other about their day, their toys, and everything he had missed while he had been with Danneel. His heart swelled with love for them, the stress of the evening fading into the background. For these few moments, it was just him and his kids—no tension, no arguments, no looming decisions. Just them.

Danneel stood by the door, watching the reunion with a quiet expression. She didn’t interrupt, giving him this moment with the kids, and for once, Jensen was grateful. It wasn’t often that they had moments of peace like this, and he wasn’t about to let anything spoil it.

After a few minutes, Jensen stood up, his kids still clinging to him. “So”, he said, looking around the room, “what’s the plan for the rest of the night? What have you guys been up to?”.

JJ’s face lit up as she tugged at his arm. “We were watching a movie, but we can start over since you’re here now! Please?”.

Jensen chuckled, glancing at Danneel, who shrugged slightly, as if to say, it’s your call.

“Sure, why not?”, he said, turning back to his kids. “Let’s watch it together”.

They scrambled back toward the couch, the twins chattering excitedly as JJ grabbed the remote to restart the movie. Jensen settled onto the couch, pulling them close as they nestled against him, their energy contagious.

For a brief moment, as the movie started playing, everything felt… normal. Like they were just a family enjoying a movie, without the weight of divorce and custody hanging over them. Jensen allowed himself to relax, to be present in this moment with his kids, knowing that this was what it was all for—the long hours, the hard conversations, the compromises. It was for them, to make sure they had this stability.

Danneel sat down across from them, her expression still neutral but less sharp than earlier. She didn’t say much, just watched the movie quietly, letting the evening play out in peace.

Meanwhile, you sat with Jared and Misha at a quiet bar tucked away in a corner, the low hum of conversation around you barely registering in your mind. Dinner had finished over an hour ago, and the three of you had decided to stick around for drinks, waiting for any sign from Jensen. But as time dragged on, you couldn't help but feel the weight of his absence pressing down on you.

Jared was watching you closely, noticing your distant gaze as you stared blankly at the condensation on your glass. He leaned forward and gently shoved your drink closer to you, offering a small, encouraging smile. “You’re gonna want to finish that before it gets warm”, he teased lightly, though you could hear the concern in his voice.

Misha, sipping on his cocktail, shot Jared a glance before turning his attention to you. “You okay?”, he asked, his tone softer than usual, as if he could sense the tension building inside you.

You forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine”, you replied, though your heart wasn’t in it. The truth was, you weren’t fine. It had been hours, and there was still no word from Jensen. You knew he was with Danneel and the kids, that this was important, but the uncertainty was starting to wear on you. You tried not to let it show, not wanting to come off as clingy or unreasonable, but the waiting was harder than you’d expected.

Jared raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Look, I know this isn’t exactly how you pictured the night going”, he said, leaning back in his chair, “but you know how it is with the kids. They’re probably watching some Disney movie, and Jensen’s caught up in it”.

Misha nodded in agreement, setting his glass down. “Yeah, I mean, if he’s with the kids, that’s all the explanation you need. He probably got sucked into ‘Frozen’ or ‘Toy Story’ and lost track of time”.

You let out a soft laugh at Misha’s joke, knowing that he was probably right. “Yeah, you’re probably right”, you said, your voice a little lighter now.

Jared, sensing that you needed a distraction, leaned in closer. “Look, I know it’s hard, but trust me—Jensen’s all in with you. He’s dealing with a lot right now, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgetting about you”.

You glanced at Jared, appreciating his attempt to ease your mind, but a part of you couldn’t help but feel a little restless. “I know he is”, you replied, sighing softly. “It’s just… I hate waiting around like this, not knowing what’s going on”.

Misha offered you a reassuring smile. “It’s understandable. But you know Jensen—if something was wrong, he’d let you know. He’s probably just caught up with the kids, and that’s something we can’t fault him for”.

You nodded, knowing they were both right. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Jensen or his commitment to you—it was just the limbo that made you uneasy. You wanted to hear from him, to know that everything was okay, and that the evening hadn’t turned into some drawn-out confrontation with Danneel. But as the minutes ticked by, you tried to push those worries to the back of your mind.

“He’ll be here soon. In the meantime, let’s finish these drinks and try not to stress, yeah?”.

You smiled gratefully at Jared, feeling a little more grounded. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, guys”.

Misha grinned, lifting his glass. “To patience, then”, he said, raising a toast.

You clinked your glass with theirs, taking a sip of your drink, trying to let yourself relax. Even though Jensen hadn’t called yet, you reminded yourself that he was likely caught up with his kids, just as Jared and Misha had said. He’d be there soon.

What you didn’t know was that, at that very moment, Jensen had fallen asleep on the couch with his kids curled up beside him. He hadn’t meant to, but after the long day and the emotional exhaustion of dealing with Danneel, the warmth and comfort of having his kids close had lulled him into a deep sleep. For now, he was completely unaware of the time that had passed, unaware that you were waiting for him.

Eventually, Jared and Misha walked you back to your hotel room, both trying to lift your spirits as best they could. They had been great company all evening, but as the hours dragged on and there was still no word from Jensen, your unease had grown. You’d texted him a few times, just to let him know where you were, hoping for some sort of response—anything to indicate he hadn’t forgotten. But still, nothing.

“He’ll probably be here any minute”, Jared reassured you with a confident smile, even though the clock was ticking later than anyone had expected.

Misha nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s probably feeling guilty right now for not checking his phone. He’s going to show up, don’t worry”.

You smiled at them, appreciating the support, but the anxious knot in your stomach had only tightened. “I hope so. Thanks, you guys, for tonight. I know it wasn’t the plan”.

“Anytime”, Jared said, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Get some rest, and Jensen will be knocking at your door before you know it”.

Misha added with a wink, “If not, just send me after him”.

You managed a soft chuckle at that, but deep down, you were more worried than amused. You bid them both goodnight and entered your room, closing the door softly behind you. The room felt too quiet now, the air thick with uncertainty. You paced for a bit, checking your phone again—still no response. You sighed, trying to push the unease aside, but the silence on the other end felt heavy.

Meanwhile, back in Danneel’s hotel room, Jensen and the kids were still fast asleep. Jensen’s body slouched slightly on the couch, his kids curled up beside him, their small arms wrapped around him in peaceful slumber. His phone, placed precariously between his legs, had vibrated several times throughout the evening, but he hadn’t stirred. The exhaustion from the day had knocked him out cold, completely unaware of the missed messages and calls.

Danneel, however, wasn’t asleep. She lay in her bed across the room, watching the scene unfold. She had been awake for a while, her thoughts swirling. Watching Jensen sleep with the kids, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something—jealousy, resentment, or maybe just a reminder of what they had lost. But as the phone continued to vibrate in his lap, her curiosity grew.

With a glance at Jensen to make sure he was still out cold, Danneel quietly slipped out of bed and padded over to the couch. The phone buzzed again, lighting up briefly as it vibrated against the fabric of his jeans. She leaned over, careful not to wake him or the kids, and caught a glimpse of the screen. Though the phone was locked, one thing was clear: your name kept flashing with every new notification. Three missed messages from Y/N.

Danneel’s eyes narrowed as she straightened up, her mind racing. She had never heard your name before in the context of Jensen, not in any conversation, not even as a passing mention.

Danneel’s curiosity only deepened as she stared at Jensen’s phone, your name flashing on the screen like a beacon. She had pieced together enough to know you were important to Jensen, but not knowing exactly who you were was driving her mad. The phone was locked, so there was no easy way for her to get the information she was dying to uncover—a picture, a detail, something that would help her put a face to the name.

Frustrated but unwilling to risk waking Jensen or the kids, Danneel silently slipped back to her bed, her mind racing. Who were you? How long had this been going on, and why hadn’t she known about it sooner? Jensen was a private person, but this was different. He’d hidden you well, but now that she knew your name, it felt like a key to unraveling everything.

Lying there in the dark, she couldn’t shake the urge to know more. She wanted to see what kind of woman Jensen had chosen after her, someone who had clearly been important enough to text him multiple times late into the night. What did you look like? Were you younger? Prettier? Someone more… her type?

A part of her burned with jealousy—whether it was toward Jensen for moving on or toward you for stepping into a life she once controlled, she wasn’t sure. But the feeling gnawed at her, pulling her into thoughts she hadn’t allowed herself to fully acknowledge. Was she just bitter because she couldn’t keep things together with Jensen? Or was it that seeing him with someone new made her face a reality she wasn’t ready for?

Danneel glanced back over at Jensen. It was a peaceful scene, one that reminded her of how things used to be when they were still a family, before everything had fallen apart. But now, with your name in the picture, she couldn’t help but feel like an outsider to that peace—like she had been replaced.

She knew there was no way she’d get anything out of his phone tonight, but she wasn’t done. She’d find a way to learn more about you, to see who this woman was who had apparently captured Jensen’s attention. Danneel wasn’t the kind to sit back and let things unfold without her knowing the full story.

For now, she had to be patient. She lay back down, though her mind refused to quiet. The knowledge that Jensen had someone else, that you were out there waiting for him, only added to the mess in her head. As she stared at the ceiling, she made a quiet promise to herself: she would find out more about you.

She wasn’t going to let this go.

Back in your hotel room, the silence was deafening. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at your phone, hoping for some kind of response. You had texted Jensen multiple times, your worry building with each unanswered message.

Why hadn’t Jensen responded? Even a quick message, just to let you know he was okay, would have been enough. You tried not to let your mind wander too far into negative territory, but it was hard not to wonder if something was wrong—or if there was more to the situation with Danneel than he had let on.

With a deep sigh, you set your phone on the nightstand, trying to convince yourself to get some rest. Jensen would explain everything when he could. He was with his kids, and that was important. But as you lay there, the uncertainty gnawed at you, making sleep feel like a distant possibility.

You pulled the blanket up, staring at the ceiling in the dim light, your mind racing with thoughts you wished you could quiet. You wanted to trust that everything was okay, but as the hours ticked by, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that something had shifted. Something you didn’t yet understand.

It wasn’t until Arrow padded across the room, her little voice mumbling something about needing to pee, that Jensen stirred from his deep sleep. Groggily, he blinked his eyes open, the soft glow from the hotel room barely illuminating the space around him. The weight of JJ was still pressed against his side, her head resting on his arm. He glanced over and saw Danneel fast asleep in the big hotel bed, Zeppelin curled up beside her, oblivious to the world.

Jensen rubbed his face with his free hand, the fog of sleep slowly lifting. That’s when he noticed his phone, still wedged between his legs. His eyes widened as he saw the screen light up with missed messages from you.

“Fuck”, he cursed under his breath, the realization hitting him all at once.

It was 3 in the morning.

Arrow, too sleepy to notice his dad’s panic, shuffled into the bathroom, leaving Jensen alone in the quiet room with the weight of the situation crashing down on him. He felt a pang of guilt ripple through him—he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. The plan had been to check on the kids, spend a bit of time with them, and then head out to meet you. But now, hours had passed, and you’d been left waiting.

Carefully, he adjusted JJ, making sure not to wake her as he reached for his phone. The missed calls and messages stared back at him like a silent reprimand. You had texted him multiple times, probably wondering where he was and why he hadn’t responded. His heart sank as he scrolled through them:

You: Hey, just wanted to check in and see how things are going with the kids. You: We’re heading back to the hotel now. You: Is everything okay? Let me know when you get a chance. You: I’m starting to get worried. Haven’t heard from you. Please text me.

Jensen’s heart clenched at the last one. You must have been worried sick, wondering why he hadn’t responded. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself for letting things get this far. His mind raced with how he was going to explain the situation to you. You knew he’d been with the kids, but this wasn’t what he’d planned. And now, it was 3 a.m., and he wasn’t even sure if you were still awake.

He shot a quick glance toward Danneel, who was still sound asleep, and sighed. This whole night had gone sideways. Trying to move as quietly as possible, Jensen extricated himself from JJ’s sleeping form, laying her gently on the couch before grabbing his phone. He stepped out into the hallway, closing the door softly behind him to avoid waking anyone up.

Standing there in the dim light of the hallway, he tapped out a quick text to you:

Jensen: I’m so sorry. I fell asleep with the kids. Just woke up now. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like this. I’ll explain everything, but I wanted you to know I’m okay.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if you were even awake to read the message, but he hit send anyway. It was the least

But you were already asleep, your phone lying untouched on the nightstand, its screen dark and silent. Jensen quietly gathered his things, careful not to wake the kids, who were already fast asleep again. Arrow had climbed back onto the couch beside JJ, their small bodies curled together in peaceful slumber.

Jensen cast a quick glance at Danneel, still sleeping soundly in the large hotel bed, and decided not to linger. There was nothing left to say to her tonight. He slipped out of the room, gently closing the door behind him. His mind was focused now—he needed to get to you, explain everything, and apologize for leaving you in the dark for so long.

As soon as he was outside, the cold air hit him, waking him up a little more. He quickly pulled out his phone, dialing for a taxi. The streets were quiet at this hour, with only a few cars passing by. It didn’t take long for the cab to arrive, and Jensen slipped into the back seat, giving the driver the name of your hotel.

He leaned back against the seat, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

The taxi ride felt longer than it was, the silence in the car giving Jensen too much time to think. His mind wandered, filled with guilt for how the night had unfolded. He could only hope that you’d understand once he explained the situation. He wasn’t the type to leave you hanging, and tonight had been an exception—one he hadn’t anticipated but would make sure didn’t happen again.

When the taxi pulled up outside your hotel, Jensen paid the driver quickly and hurried inside, making his way to the elevator. His steps were quick but quiet as he reached the door to your room.

Jensen stood outside the door to your hotel room, the keycard in his hand, hesitating for a moment. He let out a soft sigh, his shoulders heavy with guilt. He hadn’t meant for the night to turn out this way, and now here he was, creeping in hours later, hoping you’d understand. He swiped the card through the lock and quietly stepped inside, careful not to make any noise.

The room was dim, the soft glow from the streetlights outside casting a faint light across the bed where you lay, curled up in the blankets. You were fast asleep, your breathing soft and even. Jensen paused, watching you for a moment, his heart heavy with the knowledge that he’d let you down tonight.

There were still two hours before his alarm would go off for the second day of the convention. Quietly, Jensen moved to the corner of the room and began to undress. He peeled off his jacket and shirt, setting them on the chair by the desk. His eyes never strayed far from you, the sight of you so peaceful in sleep only deepening his guilt. He wanted to wake you, to apologize and explain, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb you.

As he slipped out of his jeans, he moved quietly to the edge of the bed, sitting down gently beside you. For a moment, he just watched you, his heart aching. He reached out, carefully brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

As you felt his touch, your eyes fluttered open, blinking heavily as the haze of sleep slowly lifted. It took a moment for you to realize what was happening, your mind still fuzzy with tiredness. You blinked again, and in the dim light of the room, you saw him—Jensen, sitting beside you, his expression etched with guilt and exhaustion.

“Hey”, you whispered, your voice thick with sleep as you tried to gather your bearings. “What time is it?”.

Jensen sighed softly, his hand still resting near your face. “It’s late. A little after three”, he admitted, his voice low and apologetic.

You blinked a few more times, your brain slowly processing the situation. You had fallen asleep waiting for him, unsure of what had happened or why he hadn’t shown up or answered your messages. Now here he was, hours later, looking as guilty as you’d ever seen him.

“You’re just getting in?”, you asked softly, your voice gentle but carrying a hint of the hurt you were feeling.

Jensen nodded, his hand moving to lightly touch your shoulder. “Yeah. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for things to go like this. I…I fell asleep with the kids”, he said, his tone full of regret. “I should’ve texted you earlier, but everything with Danneel and the kids just…it got overwhelming, and then I was out cold”.

You sighed, shifting slightly in bed so you could face him more fully. You weren’t angry, not really. More than anything, you were relieved to see him, to hear him explain. But the lingering feeling of being left in the dark still stung.

"I was worried”, you mumbled softly, pulling the blanket up to cover yourself a little more, almost as if it could shield you from the vulnerability you were feeling. You hated the wave of emotion that came with it—the uncertainty, the waiting, the hurt. You felt stupid for staying up, waiting all evening, and now that he was finally here, the mixture of relief and frustration sat heavy in your chest.

Jensen’s heart twisted as he watched you, the disappointment in your eyes cutting deeper than he expected. He knew he’d messed up. He knew how much his silence must have weighed on you, and seeing you like this made him feel even worse.

“I know”, he murmured, his voice low and filled with regret. His hand gently cupped your cheek, thumb tracing lightly along your skin. “I should have been here. I didn’t mean to leave you waiting, and I’m sorry I made you feel like that”.

You nodded slightly, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling. “I just… I felt stupid, you know? Waiting around, not when you were coming”.

Jensen’s chest tightened at your words. He hated that you felt that way. More than anything, he wanted to make it right, to show you how much you meant to him. The urge to close the space between you, to kiss you, and make you feel loved and secure overwhelmed him in that moment.

Without thinking, Jensen leaned down, his lips brushing yours softly at first, then deeper as if he could pour all his apologies and emotions into that kiss. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, holding you gently but with an intensity that conveyed everything he couldn’t put into words. He wanted you to feel how much you mattered to him, how much you meant.

You kissed him back, hesitantly at first, but the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in the kiss began to chip away at the frustration you had felt. The connection between you two was undeniable, even through the mess of emotions. Slowly, you melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

Jensen’s hands moved slowly, gently, as he deepened the kiss, his fingertips lightly brushing over your skin. The warmth of his touch sent a soft shiver down your spine, and despite the lingering frustration from earlier, you couldn’t help but let yourself sink into the moment. The intensity of his kiss, the way his hands moved with care and reverence, slowly began to erase the hurt you’d felt.

His hand slid down to the blanket you had pulled up around yourself, and with a gentle tug, he pushed it aside, revealing your body clad only in a thin thong and a small, fitted top. His breath hitched slightly at the sight of you, his eyes darkening with both desire and tenderness. For a moment, he just looked at you, taking in the way your body curved beneath him, but it wasn’t just lust in his gaze—it was something deeper, something that spoke to how much he wanted to make things right between you.

"God", he whispered softly, his voice thick with emotion as his hand trailed along your side, brushing against the exposed skin of your waist. "You’re so beautiful".

His touch was slow and deliberate, as though he was trying to remind you of how much you meant to him with every stroke of his hand. He leaned down, kissing you again—this time slower, more purposeful—as his hands continued to explore your body with the same delicate care. His fingers traced the line of your hip, slipping under the edge of your top, his touch warm against your skin.

You let out a soft sigh against his lips, your body reacting to the warmth of his closeness, the intimacy of the moment drawing you in further. The lingering hurt you’d felt began to melt away with each tender touch, each gentle kiss. Jensen’s hands moved to lift your top, sliding it up and over your head before tossing it aside. His gaze roamed over you, filled with both admiration and guilt, as if he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be here with you, despite how he’d messed up.

He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone, then lower, trailing down the center of your chest as his hands continued to caress your sides, pulling you even closer to him. Every touch, every kiss was an unspoken apology, a silent promise that he was here, fully present with you now.

You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer as his lips explored your skin. The earlier frustration was gone now, replaced by the intensity of the connection you shared with him since day one. Jensen’s hand slipped lower, tracing the curve of your hip, pulling you tighter against him.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours, his breath coming a little heavier now. "I love you", he whispered, his voice raw and sincere, as though he needed you to know it in this moment, needed you to feel how much you meant to him.

"I love you too", you whispered back, your hand still resting in his hair, tugging him gently back toward you. You pulled him into another deep, lingering kiss, and in that moment, all the worry and hurt from earlier faded, leaving only the warmth and closeness of being with him.

Jensen’s lips moved softly against your skin, the warmth of each kiss sending shivers through you. As he kissed down your body, his breath grew heavier, but so did the emotion behind his every touch. When he reached the waistband of your panties, he paused, resting his forehead gently against your lower stomach.

“I’m sorry”, he murmured, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t important… like you didn’t matter. You mean everything to me”. His lips brushed lightly over your skin again, soft and reverent.

The sincerity in his words cut through the haze of intimacy, grounding the moment in something deeper. It wasn’t just about desire—this was Jensen trying to make amends, to show you how deeply he cared for you beyond just physical attraction. His hands moved gently along your thighs, gripping softly but with a tenderness that matched his words.

“I never want to hurt you”, he whispered, looking up at you, his fingers gently tracing the outline of your waistband. “I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere”.

Your heart clenched at his words, and you could see how much he meant it. His guilt, his need to make things right, it all reflected in the way he touched you, like he was pouring every ounce of love he had into each movement. His fingers slowly dipped under the waistband of your panties, and he kissed your hips softly, as though asking for permission, waiting for your approval before moving any further.

You let out a soft breath, running your fingers through his hair, gently urging him on. “I know, Jensen”, you whispered, your voice filled with affection and reassurance. “I trust you”.

That seemed to be all the reassurance he needed. Jensen kissed you again, lower this time, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your panties. His hands moved deliberately, carefully sliding them down your hips, his eyes never leaving yours as he did.

Jensen’s actions were deliberate and filled with the sincerity of his earlier words. This wasn’t just about physical intimacy; it was his way of bridging the emotional gap.

As he gently spread your legs more, allowing himself to get comfortable between them, his eyes never left yours. The vulnerability in his gaze mirrored your own, creating a deep connection that went beyond the physical. It was as if, in this moment, all the frustration, the waiting, and the uncertainty were melting away, leaving only the raw, genuine affection you both shared.

“You mean everything to me”, Jensen whispered again, his voice barely audible but filled with unwavering conviction. “I don’t want to lose you. Not like this”.

This was how he expressed the depth of his emotions, how he communicated the things he struggled to say with words. You knew him well enough by now to understand that moments like these were his way of showing just how much you meant to him, even if the way he went about it was slightly unconventional—maybe even a little twisted.

You bit your lip, feeling the warmth of his body and the intensity of his gaze. There was no denying the connection between you, the way his every touch seemed to erase the distance that had built up over the evening. The frustration, the worry—they were dissolving, replaced by the unspoken promise that he was here, fully present, and committed to making things right.

“Jensen…”, you whispered, unsure of how to put into words the mix of emotions swirling inside you. It wasn’t just the relief of him being there; it was the reassurance that, despite everything, he truly did appreciate and care for you. You could feel it in every kiss, in every touch.

Jensen’s lips moved with deliberate tenderness, pressing softly against your most intimate spot. The warmth of his kiss sent a rush of sensations through you, blending seamlessly with the lingering emotions of the evening.

You let out a soft sigh, the mixture of relief and desire swirling within you. The earlier frustrations and worries seemed to dissolve under the sincerity of his actions.

Your hands ran through his hair, pressing him softly closer as he dipped his tongue gently, pressing it flat against your clit.

You moaned quietly, the sound a soft affirmation of the connection you both were rekindling. Jensen responded by pulling you closer, his hands gently resting on your hipbones, guiding you into a more intimate embrace.

Jensen’s tongue moved with deliberate patience, his movements slow and intentional as he began to explore your most intimate spot. Each gentle lick was accompanied by a soft murmur of apology and affection, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt a warm flush spread through your body, the earlier frustrations and worries melting away more and more under the soothing rhythm of his touch.

Jensen’s hands moved gently along your thighs, his touch both comforting and electrifying. He was attuned to your responses, adjusting his movements to ensure your pleasure. Every lick was slow and deliberate, each one building anticipation and deepening the intimacy between you.

As his actions intensified, the passion overwhelmed your senses. With a breathless whisper, you guided him upwards, your hands trembling slightly as you pulled him closer. He understood your unspoken request instantly; his movements synchronized with your desires as he pushed his boxershorts down, freeing himself.

The moment his lips met yours, the intensity escalated. The taste of yourself on his lips heightened the experience, blurring the lines between your separate existences. As he positioned himself at your entrance, you both paused, sharing a look. Then, with a gentle thrust, he eased inside of you, the depth of his penetration making you cry out softly against his lips. The sensation was overwhelming yet perfect, filling you completely in one fluid motion.

Jensen’s movements were slow, almost reverent, as he began to move within you. Each thrust was measured, designed to bring pleasure and express his apologies and promises non-verbally. His hands, previously tracing paths along your thighs, now cradled your face and ran through your hair, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss that mirrored the rhythm of his movements.

"I love you”, Jensen mumbled into the kiss, his voice low and filled with emotion. His hand gripped your hip firmly, holding you in place as his thrusts became slightly rougher, each movement still deeply reverent but now driven by a growing intensity.

Your response was a soft moan into his mouth, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him even closer if possible. The way he said those words, with such profound sincerity, made your heart swell within your chest. It wasn’t just a declaration; it was a reaffirmation of everything he felt, everything he wanted to make up to you.

The sound of your combined breaths filled the room. You could feel every inch of him, every pulse and throb as he moved within you, each thrust meeting a need you hadn’t voiced but he had understood.

The intensity of the moment built with each passing second, the room echoing with the sound of your bodies coming together. His free hand wandered up to caress your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as he looked into your eyes. The connection was palpable, a raw and unguarded exchange of emotions that spoke louder than words could.

“You mean everything to me”, Jensen breathed out, each word punctuated by a deep thrust that sent waves of pleasure radiating through you. His gaze held yours, locked in a moment of complete vulnerability and trust.

As Jensen’s movements became even more focused, each thrust seemed to hit just the right spot inside you, his tip brushing against your G-spot with a precision that left you breathless. The intensity of his actions brought waves of pleasure that coursed through your body. His name escaped your lips in a loud moan, the sound filling the room, mingling with the rhythmic sounds of your unity.

Feeling you clench around him, Jensen’s breath hitched, his movements momentarily faltering as he shuddered with the sensations.

Jensen’s hand, which had been caressing your cheek, moved to entwine his fingers with yours, holding them beside your head on the pillow, anchoring you to the moment, to him.

"Look at me”, Jensen urged gently, his voice low and intense. He squeezed your intertwined hands, while his other arm supported him, keeping him elevated just above you. His gaze was unwavering, filled with a mix of raw desire and deep affection, inviting you to connect not just physically, but soulfully as well.

You met his gaze, locking eyes with him as he continued his deliberate, focused movements. The depth of emotion you saw reflected back at you amplified the sensations rippling through your body. In his eyes, you saw not just the physical pleasure, but a profound commitment and an open vulnerability that he shared only with you.

As Jensen maintained eye contact, his thrusts remained slow and measured, each one driving deeper. The intensity of his gaze, coupled with the depth of his strokes, created a crescendo of sensations that threatened to overwhelm you.

“Stay with me”, he breathed, almost as a whisper, as if he was sharing a secret that only you could understand. This simple plea was laden with meaning, reinforcing his desire to remain connected in every way possible.

Your response was a breathless nod.

His gaze drifted momentarily to your chest, watching the subtle movements synchronized with his thrusts. The sight elicited a deeper groan from him as his eyes fluttered closed, a wave of pleasure evident on his face. Then, with a firmer resolve, he pushed deeper, increasing the force slightly.

When his eyes reopened and met yours again, something in his expression had shifted—a raw intensity, a silent plea mixed with the depths of his feelings laid bare. The connection in that look, so charged and so full, tipped you over the edge. You felt the climax build rapidly, an overwhelming rush that seized your entire being.

As you came around him, your eyes locked with his, the world outside melted away. Your body clenched around him, and his response was immediate; his own climax triggered by the intensity of your release. Jensen’s movements slowed as he rode out the waves of his own release, each pulse and throb echoing yours, deeply interconnected.

After a moment, Jensen’s thrusts slowed to a stop.

As Jensen’s movements finally ceased, his grip on your hand loosened, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. His eyes remained closed, lashes fluttering slightly against the high color of his cheeks.

Slowly, his eyes opened, meeting yours once again with a softness that contrasted starkly with the raw intensity from moments before.

Jensen’s hand shifted from yours to trace a gentle line along your jaw, his touch tender as if he were handling something precious. “You okay?”, he asked softly. It was a simple question, but laden with deeper meanings, seeking assurance not just about your physical state but also about the emotional undercurrents of what had just transpired.

You nodded, unable to keep from smiling slightly.

With a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, Jensen gently pulled out of you, the sudden absence leaving behind a sense of warmth and tenderness. He let himself sink onto the bed beside you, his body still humming with the aftermath of your shared intensity. His hand brushed through his damp hair, pushing it back as he exhaled deeply, still catching his breath.

As you cleaned up, you glanced over at him, his chest still rising and falling with a gentle rhythm, a contented smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Jensen turned his head to face you, his eyes full of affection as he watched you. “I’ll never get tired of moments like this with you”, he murmured, his voice low but filled with sincerity.

You felt a slight blush creeping up your cheeks at Jensen's words, his sincerity catching you off guard in the best way possible. Before you could respond, he gently pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you and pressing your body tightly against his. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world was just the two of you, nestled in this shared, quiet space.

His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that mirrored the ease of the moment. You let yourself sink into him, your arms finding their way around his waist, holding him as close as he was holding you. The softness of the sheets, the warmth of his skin, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest created a cocoon of calm around you both.

Jensen pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "I love you", he whispered, the words almost a breath against your hair. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but each time felt just as powerful, as if he was reminding you of something constant and unwavering between the two of you.

You tilted your head up slightly to meet his gaze, your heart swelling with affection as you whispered back, "I love you too", The smile that spread across his face in response was pure, filled with the kind of warmth that made everything else fade away.

For a while, you both stayed like that—wrapped up in each other, the quiet hum of the world outside the only sound that occasionally drifted in. There was no rush to move, no need for words to fill the silence. Everything felt right, exactly as it was.

Jensen’s hand absentmindedly traced gentle circles on your back, his touch soothing and familiar. "Let’s just stay like this", he murmured, his voice soft, "for as long as we can".

You nodded against him, your body relaxed in his arms. "I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else".

As you drifted back to sleep, your body curled up against Jensen’s, he lay there wide awake, his mind racing even though the room was peaceful. His heart ached as he watched you sleep so peacefully, your face relaxed and your trust in him evident in the way you clung to him even in your sleep. He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, careful not to wake you again, his touch soft and reverent.

In the quiet moments that followed, Jensen couldn't shake the heavy weight pressing down on him. You had given him so much—your love, your support, your patience—and yet he felt like he was always falling short. His life had become a series of complications, and somehow, you were constantly caught in the middle of it. The guilt gnawed at him, growing heavier with each passing thought.

He didn’t deserve this level of trust, of unwavering love. Not when he kept disappointing you. Jensen's mind wandered to the countless times his complicated life had interfered—his obligations, his kids, the unresolved issues with Danneel. Every time he thought he was getting things right, something else would fall apart. And yet, through it all, you never wavered. You believed in him, supported him, encouraged him, even when he couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Jensen’s chest tightened with the weight of it all. He couldn’t help but wonder if you deserved more—someone whose life wasn’t so tangled, someone who could give you the stability and simplicity you deserved. The thought of losing you, of not being enough for you, scared him more than anything. But even scarier was the idea that he might hurt you by continuing to drag you through his messy world.

He let out a shaky breath, feeling the lump form in his throat as his eyes lingered on your peaceful face. He loved you more than anything, but how long could you keep giving him so much without him truly being able to give back? He wanted to be the man you deserved, but with everything that weighed on him—the kids, the divorce, the constant demands of his career—he worried that no matter how much he tried, he would always end up falling short.

His hand tightened slightly around your waist, pulling you closer as if to reassure himself that you were still here, still with him. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as he closed his eyes, trying to push away the suffocating guilt.

"Sorry", he whispered softly, his voice barely audible. It wasn’t something he intended for you to hear—just something he needed to say, even if only to himself. "I´m so fucking sorry". He wished he could do better, be better, for you. But right now, all he could do was hold you close and hope that someday, somehow, he would be able to live up to everything you saw in him.

As the night wore on and the room remained silent, Jensen stayed awake, his mind restless despite the calm around him. He watched you, a mixture of love and guilt swirling inside him, knowing that no matter how complicated things became, he would do whatever it took to keep you in his life—if only he could figure out how to balance the chaos and keep from breaking the heart of the one person he couldn’t bear to lose.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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[thybirbman]

Bird, I just need you to know, I think about these dudes daily. I think about them and their little cliche every single day and I think about modern Konoha would react to them and how they would react to modern Konoha and I think about them so much, it's probably not healthy. I don't have the words to explain how much I think about them, but it's so so much.

Specifically I think about how you drew Haruka, I can imagine her voice in my head so fucking clearly from just those two first shots of her. Deep and smooth, still womanly just way deeper than average, she kinda sounds like she's constantly on the verge of yawning, but she's actually only one step away from the most terrifying growl.

But also I love how you drew the twins and Ichigo holding up Sakumo like he's simba, which he basically is. It's just such a kid thing to do. You find out you're about to have a little cousin, and you're old enough that you know kids are a rarity in your family, so you're just like, "YOOOO! CHILD!!!!" Even if you don't 100% get it, you get it's a big deal and the only way you know how to deal with that is hold the kid high and tell everyone about how YOOOOO THERE IS A FREAKING CHILD YOOOOOO!!! And I love how mischievous the twins look. I wanted to make all the noises when Haru said, "Oh boy, exciting stuff," about Orochinatsu looking at ants while leaning on them with one arm. It's just so- I can tell they're interested but also they don't get it, they're faking getting it because it is interesting and they do wanna know more and they do care, but they don't GET IT get it. It's an older siblings trying to get it bc well, they got nothing better to do, but also they care, so they wanna hang out with you, and they wanna GET IT get it. Well, they do have better things to do, they have PLANS, but they care about Natsu and want them to know that they're not saying watching ants is stupid, (they think it's a lil stupid in that it's boring but they're not gonna say that bc they care and it's not them watching ants so they're not gonna ruin it for them for no good reason) Natsu is clearly enjoying themselves, just they have this idea and if you have the time maybe you wanna join-

Also, Tesuo's panel. I love his expression when inner him is going; "I'm finally free!!!~" in contrast to his outwardly uncaring facade. Just love his design in general. I love all your Hatake designs, I am so mentally ill about them, I love the Hatake, I'm obsessed with them, and I love your interpretation of them.

I love the Nara twins' designs and Hiname's design too- absolutely love the Hatake twins having decided to be here minions for the fuck of it. God, that is so in character and such a teenage thing to do. "Hey, let's just be this lil kid's slaves for the fun of it. I got nothing better to do, and I think she's funny, I wanna reinforce her bad habits. Also, I just wanna see what happens." 100% said by at least 59 teenagers every day. And Shiruka just being so done with the twins' shit, but also not leaving bc those are her besties (she never said this, and if you ever say she did, she is... not stabbing you, too much effort. She's putting in a bad word of you to her friends tho and they have all the energy in the world to socially destroy you). If they lived in the real world, they 100% met in college and became lifelong friends. Shiruka crashed on their couch for a while while between jobs, and Shiruka picked them up from bars more than once bc they were both too drunk to drive.

Also, I'd go on depth of my love of Orochinatsu and Hiname, but oof ouch my fingies are cramping, so just know I love them both just as much. Tho the twins + Shiruka are definitely my favorite, but I love all of them so much!

And I just- aaaaahhhhh! Too many feels, too few words. I love them all so much. I love the rivalry they got going on with other clan kids. I daydream about them going about their day and the Naruto cast doing a "watch the series/read the book they're from" trope type thing except they're watching their ancestors and also love them bc I cannot contain so much love in one person and I have to imagine hoards of people loving them as much as I do to function.

Silly, early Konoha lore and oc things drawn while thinking about this post

!!! early konoha my beloved !!! I have so many thoughts ab it, I want to write a fic that's just silly early Konoha things viewed from the perspective of the less important clan members and their everyday lives. I'm aware the audience for that is incredibly small but I have too much fun just thinking ab it to really care!

Ichigo remains the only naruto oc Ive ever actually written for (in one step three steps), tho Haruka has been mentioned in multiple fics of mine now just bc she fills the role of Tobirama + Hashirama's blood aunt that I needed to be filled in my "Kakashi interacts with Tobirama w the knowledge that they are directly related" fics, of which there are now multiple

but yeah, take some silly art and lore comics !! I had fun while making these and will now probably put all these ocs on a shelf where I will not touch them for some more months

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hey 💜💜 wondering if you could write something where Damian and reader have been trying to have a baby for so long, and they've done all the treatments, but nothing ever worked, so they’ve stopped "trying". And then she ends up pregnant randomly, and her gift to him on Christmas is a positive test or a cute onesie or whatever, and it takes him a minute to actually believe her 💜💜

i love this request so much! working on it!

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️mention of infertility, pregnancy, pregnancy sickness, a little angst, mention of smut, fluff and comfort‼️

early christmas present

one year and a half.

one year and a half of you and damian trying to have a family together. one year and a half of you going from doctor to doctor, clinic to clinic and changing different treatments and yet nothing ever happened.

maybe it wasn’t meant to be. maybe you and damian weren’t fit to be parents and this was the sign. maybe it wasn’t meant for you to be a mother in this lifetime, no matter how much you wanted to be.

and you spent a year and a half blaming yourself. you reached to a point where you tried to break up with damian, saying how he deserved someone who could give him a family.

he thought you were crazy when you said that. he loved you so much and the idea of losing you was killing him, so, after a lot of therapy sessions, sleepless nights crying in each other’s arms, you came to the conclusion that it wasn’t really meant to be and that there was nothing you could do about it.

the idea of being infertile never crossed your mind so it was a big shock to you but as time passed by, you learned how to live with that and instead of focusing on the bad things, you took your life back.

a few people in the company knew or more - heard - about you and damian not being able to have kids and tried to suggest you many different options, from adoption to surrogacy but even if they seemed having good intentions, it pain you to know that your own problems became public domain.

you and damian lived your life. he promised to stay by your side and he did. he knew how much you wanted this and he was hurting at the idea of you feeling like it was your fault.

you found strength to take your mind off of that and focusing on different things. helping damian training, having dates like it was your first time together, spending much needed time in each other’s company. all the little things you loved that felt lost a year ago.

passionate nights with damian, him reminding you how much he loved you and appreciated you. you felt like yourself again and you got used of being just you and him, even if it meant for the rest of your life.

about a week ago you got sick. thinking it was just a normal cold, you let it go. but it got worse when the delicious smell of fresh bread and coffee became unbearable for you and got you nauseous every single morning.

“stomach issues again?” damian softly asked when he saw the disgust painted on your face.

“i think so…it smells so bad damian” you tried to joke when damian backed off so he could drink his coffee without making you feel worse.

“do you want me to make you something else? eggs? bacon? pancakes? anything you like?” he was so caring with you but the idea of eating made you even sicker.

“i feel like i could throw up the whole menu” you said making him laugh “i booked an appointment for today, i’m having a check up, maybe i got some virus or something…nothing too serious” you tried to remain calm but the idea of being sick for so long made you worry.

“i wish i could come with you but i promised rhea i would help her train…let me call her so i can come with you” he was about to pick up the phone but you stopped him.

“it’s not necessary damian, i promise” you smiled “she needs you, i’ll see you later on tonight” he knew that you wouldn’t have let him ditch rhea for a simple check up and he knew that no matter what he said, you wouldn’t let him come.

he nodded, moving the coffee away so he could properly kiss you before you left the house.

a couple of hours later and you were sitting in your car, watching the people passing by as you were trying to elaborate what the doctor just told you.

you weren’t sick - you were pregnant.

you were pretty sure it was impossible for you but all the tests the doctor ran turned positive.

how?

when?

your mind was racing and you couldn’t stop the million thoughts that were going through it.

sure, you and damian stopped having sex with condoms when you were trying to have a baby and when you learned that you couldn’t have kids you never really cared about safe sex anyway.

but how did it happen if you were infertile?

the doctor didn’t have a proper answer and he already scheduled some appointments to keep you checked, saying that it was almost a miracle.

right now, you were thinking about damian.

how were you going to tell him?

many ideas crossed your mind. from a mug with “best dad”, to a small t-shirt or maybe even a teddy bear.

you wanted to make this special for him too so when you crossed a shoe store on your drive back home, you decided to stop and get some inspiration. immediately your eyes fell upon a baby version of the black nike sneakers he had and you thought it was going to be an awesome gift.

your baby wasn’t even born and yet you were buying matching shoes for them and damian. while wrapping the box, the sale assistant smiled at you, unconsciously knowing that you had in mind.

you couldn’t contain your excitement and enthusiasm so you tried to speed back home.

too much surprise damian was already back and he was watching something show when you entered the front door.

his eyes immediately fell upon you, remembering you had the visit that morning.

“hey mi amor” he smiled “how are you? feeling better? what did the doctor say?” thousands of questions immediately echoed in the room, making you chuckle.

“one question at a time damian” you smiled sitting next to him on the couch “i’m feeling better, thanks, and the doctor gave me an explanation on why i keep getting sick, especially in the morning” you tried not to be so excited but it was hard.

“so?” damian was worried. he couldn’t understand why you were so happy and smiley.

instead of giving him an answer, you took the box right out of your bag and gave it to him “let say this is an early christmas present…and also the reason on why i’m always so sick” you watched him look between you and the box “come on, open it” you smiled.

damian carefully opened the small box and for a moment his heart stopped.

mini shoes? he wasn’t understanding.

and then it clicked.

“what? how? is this real?” his eyes moved between your now teary eyes and the little shoes he was holding in his hands “is it real?”

you nodded, not being able to find enough words.

“we’re gonna be parents?” he asked, now fully already knowing the answer.

“yes…” your voice broke a little but the joy filling the room was worth all of the tears you were shedding.

“this is the best gift i could ever ask for” he wrapped you in his arms and held you as you both cried of joy.

“i already booked the next appointments. the doctor wants to run some more tests and try to understand how i actually got pregnant…and we have an ultrasound appointment in a week too…we’re gonna see the baby soon” you cried onto damian’s shoulder.

“fuck, i love you so much mi amor” he quickly wiped off his tears before softly kiss your lips “and i can’t believe you got us matching shoes” he bursted out laughing.

“i can’t wait to get you matching clothes, matching pjs, matching socks, everything gonna be matching” you joked, making him even happier.

damian’s hand went over your belly “i can’t wait to meet you baby…” he softly spoke making your heart warm “you are already so loved…we love you so much, mama and papa…i can’t believe i’m saying this” he was still high on emotions and you couldn’t blame him.

maybe it really was a christmas miracle.