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thoughtfulfiction · 1 month ago

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Operation: Cover Me in Sonshine

Author’s Note: Making the Operations fics into a series!

Content warning: Pregnancy and natural delivery.

It’s still early. The quiet of the house feels almost surreal as you wake up. The air feels heavier somehow, like the morning itself is holding its breath. Sunlight creeps through the blinds in soft slants, barely brushing the edges of your room. You shift slightly, wincing as the weight of your belly tugs against your body. Your hand instinctively finds the curve of it, still firm, round, and impossibly stretched. You sigh softly, not really wanting to be awake because you can already feel how early in the day it still must be. The clock on your nightstand blinks, 5:55 AM.

Another morning.

You’ll be lucky if you ever sleep in past seven for the next few years. Right now, though, sleep seems like a distant luxury, one you haven’t had much of lately. Between the ache in your hips and the dull throb in your lower back, rest comes in fits and starts. Despite how exhausted you are, your mind refuses to quiet.

All you can think about—all anyone can think about, is that you’re still waiting. Three days have passed since your due date and yet, no contractions, no signs, no…nothing. Just this endless limbo, your body stuck in a frustrating stalled state that makes you feel like you’re teetering on the edge of something big, yet unable to tip over.

You grab at the nightstand for your phone, squinting as the bright screen flares to life. A message from Joe waits at the top.

Hey babe, just headed out for a quick workout. I’ll be back by 10:30. If you need anything or feel like today’s the day, just let me know and I’ll come home sooner. Love you.

Your lips curve slightly, warmth blooming in your chest, but there’s something else there too, something closer to frustration. Not at him, but at…all of it. This waiting game. The feeling of being stuck while everyone around you carries on.

You knew he’d get up early. Even in the offseason, Joe clings to a routine, his quiet hours in the morning when the world feels calm and focused. And he’s earned that space. He’s been incredible these past few weeks, doting without hovering, most of the time. He’s always steady and patient no matter how restless you’ve been. Every evening, he asks if you’re okay, if you need anything, sometimes twice, oftentimes more. His time off has revolved around you, learning everything there is to know about newborns: the most effective swaddle methods, how long to keep him awake so he learns the difference between night and day as well as an effective nighttime feeding schedule.

He can take a few hours to himself, you think. He deserves that.

Your fingers hover over the screen before you type out a reply.

Thanks, babe. I’ll be fine. Just make sure you don’t overdo it.

You can practically hear him chuckling through the phone, that quiet, knowing laugh, because he never seems to believe he’s overdoing anything. His stubborn confidence is part of what makes him Joe, part of why you love him.

You exhale and try to shift again, but a deep ache flares in your back, deeper this time, like a dull knife twisting low in your spine, pulling things apart that are definitely meant to stay firmly attached. You groan softly and press your fingers into the sore spot, massaging circles to ease the tension. It’s not new at all. This ache has been creeping in more and more lately, but each time it sparks, a tiny flicker of hope stirs in your chest.

Maybe this is it…

But no. The pain fades, leaving you frustrated and no closer to labor than you were yesterday, or the day before that.

The clock now reads 6:37 AM.

You close your eyes, but the knot of restlessness remains. There’s a quiet pressure building, not painful exactly, but heavy and constant, like your body is gathering itself for something important. You know it’s coming, but when?

You shift again, one hand on your belly, feeling the faintest flutter of movement beneath your skin. The tiny human you've spent all this time carefully creating is still tucked inside, still waiting.

“Take your time,” you murmur softly, your voice barely a whisper in the quiet room. “Just, maybe not too much longer? Please?”

You set the phone down and settle back into the blankets, trying to relax your shoulders. It’s been hard, lately. Waiting. It’s been a whole year of preparation, appointments, baby names, and finally, the moment feels so close, but not quite here yet.

The minutes tick by, slow and steady, but for now, you’re here, in this quiet space, waiting for the little one to arrive. Just a little longer.

You put the phone down, letting Joe’s text sink in as you try to shake off the dull ache in your bones. The unfortunate familiar pangs of discomfort from indigestion and constipation seem to be intensifying. Lately, it feels like the world’s most inconvenient ailment has decided to settle in just as you’re waiting for the baby to make its grand entrance. Of course, it’s also the one thing you didn’t expect to be this uncomfortable—being overdue should’ve been enough of a challenge without the constant bloating and awkward, painful pressure in your stomach.

You inhale deeply, trying to remind yourself it’s just the digestive struggles. The weight of the baby pressing against your insides, your body’s final stretch before it does its job. It’s annoying. Embarrassing, even.

It feels like every part of your body is letting you down. Your stomach bloats up at the smallest meal, your back aches with every step, and now, it’s like your own body is holding the baby hostage in there. And let’s not even get started on the hormone-driven emotional rollercoaster.

But, you have to admit, some of it feels comical, even in its discomfort. You’ve read enough pregnancy blogs to know that half the battle is dealing with things no one tells you about—like the indignity of trying to figure out which position on the couch will ease your gas without making you explode in a fit of awkwardness.

With a sigh, you slowly swing your legs off the bed, careful not to rush the movement. The pressure in your midsection seems to ease up slightly as you stand, though it’s still there, a little tight and definitely at max capacity. You gingerly make your way downstairs, holding onto the railing for balance, feeling the full weight of your baby drastically shifting your equilibrium. As you move, the cramping feels more like an intense knot in your gut, and you know it’s time to make your way to the exercise ball.

You head straight for the water bottle, taking a long sip, feeling the cool liquid trickle down your throat and easing the dryness that’s taken over. You don’t think it’ll help regulate whatever is going on, but hydration seems like a decent place to start.

After a few seconds, you make your way over to the corner of the living room where the exercise ball sits, your faithful companion during these last few weeks. You lower yourself slowly onto it, wincing a little as the baby shifts, and take a deep breath as you roll your hips in slow circles. The gentle movement is supposed to relieve the pressure, and although you’re skeptical, you focus on the slight relief it brings.

It’s just one of those things, isn’t it? One of the million little things people never tell you about pregnancy. How one day you’ll have to tell your husband you haven’t gone to the bathroom in days and you’re on the verge of praying about it. You can’t help but chuckle softly to yourself, even if the situation is mildly uncomfortable. But that’s pregnancy—endlessly humbling, unpredictable, and sometimes…a little bit ridiculous.

You rest your hands on your belly, feeling the baby moving around, and for a moment, the cramping fades into something more tolerable. Maybe this won’t last much longer. Maybe the baby’s just waiting for you to stop worrying about the pain, stop stressing, before finally making his move.

Until then, you’ll continue rolling on this exercise ball, a little horrified at what your body is or isn’t doing, a little tired, but still hopeful that you’ll stop having to ask for help tying your shoes and getting off the couch soon and very soon.

By the time Morgan shows up at 8 AM, you’re curled up on the couch, tucked into a corner with a throw blanket draped over your legs. The dull ache in your lower belly hasn’t really let up, and the pressure feels like someone’s wedged a brick just above your hips. You’re trying to focus on Abbott Elementary, but even your favorite sitcom isn’t helping much. The laughter from the TV feels distant, like background noise to the uncomfortable churning inside you.

Morgan’s familiar voice calls from the kitchen.

“Morning! How’re you feeling?”

You force a smile and crane your neck toward him. He’s already setting his bags on the counter, moving with the kind of ease that comes from routine. He’s been Joe’s private chef long enough to know exactly where everything is—knives, spices, meal prep containers, all without a second thought.

“I’m good,” you answer, even though you’re very much not.

He pauses, wiping his hands on a towel. “You want me to whip something up for you? Eggs? Oatmeal?” He gestures toward the fridge. “I can make that quinoa bowl you liked last week?”

You grimace at the thought. The idea of food, anything warm, rich, or even remotely flavorful, almost make you gag. You press a hand to your belly, your palm tracing flat circles to the front tryin to sooth that backed up sensation, still feeling painfully full despite barely eating since last night.

“No thanks,” you mutter. “I feel like if I eat anything, I’ll actually combust.”

Morgan raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t push. He’s seen you in various stages of pregnancy discomfort, the bloody noses, random crying fits over commercials, even that one time you cursed Joe’s sneakers for “squeaking too loud.” He knows better than to argue with you, especially this late in the game.

“Alright,” he says easily. “But if you change your mind, let me know and I can you something small and easy on the stomach.”

You mumble your thanks and sink deeper into the couch, moving around more easily now that the back pain has dissipated just enough to focus on what's really causing issues. Another cramp bubbles low in your belly, a little dull and you instinctively close your eyes, breathing through it. It’s really nothing. Just more of this stubborn indigestion that won’t quit.

Morgan, meanwhile, quietly moves around the kitchen, chopping vegetables and portioning out Joe’s post-workout meals. Every so often, you catch him glancing your way. He’s trying to be subtle but it’s very noticeable. He can tell you’re uncomfortable and even though you said you were good, he still feels like he should do something to help.

There's something about your silence, the way you’ve barely talked or how you keep pressing your hand to your stomach just nags at him.

He steps away from the counter and pulls out his phone. After a moment of hesitation, he types out a text to Joe:

Hey man, just FYI, Y/N isn’t feeling great. Says it’s indigestion, but she looks a little off. Doesn’t want to eat. Not trying to overstep, but figured you’d want to know.

He stares at the message for a second longer before hitting send. Then he goes back to his chopping, keeping one ear tuned toward the living room…just in case.

Joe’s phone buzzes on the bench beside him just as he’s about to start his next set. He’s been pushing himself this morning, faster reps, heavier weight, trying to clear his mind. And maybe to get a few intense sessions going before the baby comes and he's too sleep deprived to put 300lbs on the bar for leg day. The further away they get to the due date, the harder it’s been for him to focus. Every morning feels like a guessing game. Will today be the day? And it’s been weighing on him more than he'd ever care to admit.

He grabs his phone, swiping away a layer of sweat on his forehead with his other hand. Seeing Morgan’s name on the screen makes his stomach tighten.

Joe doesn’t even think twice after reading the text, he’s already tapping the call button.

You pick up on the second ring, sounding tired but still calm.

“Hey,” you greet softly.

“Hey,” Joe says, his voice low with concern. “Morgan said you’re not feeling too hot?”

You let out a small sigh. “Yeah…just uncomfortable. Same stuff I’ve been dealing with, stomach feels a little dodgy, like I’m too full even though I barely ate. It’s nothing worse than what I’ve felt the last few weeks, though. I promise.”

Joe leans forward on the bench, still breathing a little hard from his workout. “You sure? I can be home in fifteen. Maybe even less than that if you need me.”

“No, no,” you insist. “Seriously, I’m fine. Take your time.”

But then you hesitate and Joe hears it.

“…Actually,” you add awkwardly, “Can you um…can you ask your assistant to grab me some prune juice? And those Olly constipation gummies?”

There’s a brief silence.

“Prune juice?” Joe echoes, biting back a grin.

“Don’t,” you warn immediately, your voice sharp with embarrassment. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

Joe can’t help himself, a quiet chuckle slips out, and you groan.

“I hate this,” you mutter. “I’m literally begging you to send someone to buy me prune juice. I might die of humiliation before this baby even comes out.”

“Hey,” Joe soothes, his voice warm now, teasing forgotten. “Don’t even worry about it. You’re carrying our baby. If you need prune juice, gummies, or whatever else, I’ll make it happen.”

“You better,” you grumble, but there’s a small smile in your voice. “You did this to me.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I’ll text her now,” Joe promises. “And I’ll finish up fast, just in case.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“Love you.”

You sigh, wanting to actually be swallowed by the couch, “love you too.”

As Joe hangs up, he’s already pulling up his assistant’s number, typing out the most ridiculous grocery request he’s ever had to send.

Hey, can you grab some prune juice and Olly constipation gummies and drop them off at the house? Don’t ask. Just trust me.

He pauses, smirks, and adds:

Maybe get some peonies too. The biggest bouquet they have. Just in case.

He sends the message, then grabs his towel and heads for the his last few sets. He’s not taking his time after all.

Joe steps through the front door less than 30 minutes after his call, tossing his keys onto the counter. The first thing he sees is the half-empty cup of prune juice and the opened bottle of laxative gummies sitting beside it. He frowns, setting his gym bag down.

“Where is she?” he asks Morgan, who’s finishing up in the kitchen.

Morgan just jerks his thumb toward the stairs. “Up there. Been a while.”

Joe mutters a quick thanks and heads for the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. His heart’s racing, not from panic, exactly, but from that anxious feeling that’s been simmering under his skin all morning. He stops at the bathroom door and knocks gently.

“Babe?” His voice is soft but concerned.

“I need a minute,” you groan from the other side of the door.

Joe’s hand rests flat against the wood. “You okay?”

“No,” you huff miserably. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Joe’s chest tightens. “Aw, c’mon,” he says gently, trying to keep things light. “You’re being a little dramatic.”

“I’m not,” you snap. “I am trapped in here, sweating like I just ran a marathon, and I’m pretty sure if I push any harder I’m gonna launch this baby straight into the toilet.”

Joe winces. “That doesn’t sound great.”

“Yeah.”

He pauses, unsure how to fix this. “Do you want me to call the doctor?” he asks carefully.

“No! God no.” you say quickly. “This is already horrible enough. I don’t need the entire city knowing my body is massively betraying me right now.”

Joe stifles a laugh but instantly regrets it. This isn’t funny, you’re uncomfortable, exhausted, and miserable, and here he is, helpless on the other side of the door.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I just…I hate that you’re feeling like this.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then you sigh, voice softer now.

“I really need this baby out of my body,” you murmur, frustration and exhaustion bleeding through your words.

Joe leans his head against the door. “I know, babe.” His voice is low and steady now. “But you’re doing amazing, okay? Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says firmly. “Look, you’ve made it this far. You’re tough as hell. This whole prune juice situation? Just a bump in the road.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Doesn't exactly feel like it. I cannot believe this is my life right now.”

“Well…” Joe grins. “Look on the bright side, if this baby does show up today, we’ll have one heck of a story to tell at their wedding.”

Your groan echoes through the door, but this time there’s a hint of a smile behind it.

“I’m serious!” Joe teases. “We’ll be like, ‘Oh yeah, your mom went into labor right after she chugged prune juice and I gave her a pep talk while she sat in the bathroom for 45 minutes.’”

“You’re the worst,” you mutter, but you’re laughing now, really laughing, and Joe feels like that’s a win.

“And yet you chose me,” he says softly.

“And I've been contemplating all of my life decisions ever since,” you answer, still stuck in the bathroom, still uncomfortable, but maybe feeling just a little bit better.

The bathroom door creaks open, and you step out looking thoroughly defeated. Your face a little damp from sweating, and your features riddled with exhaustion.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks carefully.

You shake your head with a tired sigh. “Nothing.”

Joe frowns. “Nothing?”

“Not a thing.” You throw your hands up in frustration. “I drank prune juice, ate those stupid gummies, and sat in there forever just hoping something would happen. Now I'm just worn out.”

His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile, but he knows better than to push his luck.

“I’m sorry, babe,” he says gently. “Come on, let’s get you in bed.”

You don’t argue. Your body feels heavy, your stomach taut, not from cramps, just…pressure. Like your baby’s taking up every possible inch inside you and still isn’t satisfied. You crawl into bed with a quiet groan, tugging the blankets up over you.

Joe leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before grabbing a fresh shirt and some shorts.

“I’m gonna shower,” he says softly. “I’ll be right back.”

You mumble something in response, something sleepy and unintelligible. Your eyes are already closing as he heads to the bathroom.

When he comes back a few minutes later, his hair still damp, Joe’s wearing one of his old workout shirts and a pair of loose shorts. He tosses his towel in the laundry basket and moves quietly to your side of the bed.

You’re half-asleep, curled on your side, breathing slow and steady. He sits beside you, shifting carefully so the mattress barely dips. His hand finds your back, fingers pressing into the curve of your spine, tracing soft circles in the exact spots he knows help you relax.

After a moment, his hand drifts lower, resting on the hard, round curve of your belly. His palm molds to it, and his brow furrows slightly.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Does this hurt?”

Your eyes barely crack open. “Not really,” you murmur. “Just feels…overstuffed. Like he’s running out of room.”

Joe hums thoughtfully, his thumb absently stroking over the stretched fabric of your shirt. He can feel the tension beneath his hand. Your stomach’s so compact, like a drum. His fingers press a little firmer, not enough to hurt, just enough to feel for movement.

And then, right beneath his palm, the baby moves, slow and heavy, like he’s just as uncomfortable as you are.

“Wow,” Joe breathes with a soft chuckle. “Yeah, he’s definitely running out of space.”

You smile sleepily, your hand sliding over his, locking your fingers together on your belly. “Feels like he’s trying to punch his way out at this point.”

“Well,” Joe grins, “I’d prefer that over prune juice doing the job.”

You snort, barely opening one eye to shoot him a look. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m too tired.”

“Alright, alright,” he whispers, pressing one more kiss to your cheek. “Get some rest.”

You’re out cold in minutes, your breathing soft and even. Joe shifts carefully, reaching for his iPad on the nightstand. He pulls up a documentary, something about space exploration. It’s the kind of background noise that won’t steal too much of his attention and settles in beside you.

He doesn’t feel comfortable leaving you alone right now. Something about the way you’ve been moving, tired, off and just not quite yourself keeps him rooted to the spot. So he stays, one arm still resting protectively across your belly, just in case.

Just in case today’s the day.

Joe barely stirs when you shift out of bed a little over an hour later. He feels the dip in the mattress, hears the quiet shuffle of your feet as you head to the bathroom, but he doesn’t think much of it. Finally, he figures, letting his eyes drift back to his iPad. The prune juice and gummies must’ve kicked in.

But then he hears it, the familiar, awful sound of you gagging, followed by the unmistakable heave of you being sick.

He’s out of bed in an instant, the iPad forgotten on the sheets.

“Hey, hey,” Joe calls as he reaches the bathroom, his voice rising with concern. The door’s cracked open, and he pushes it the rest of the way.

You’re kneeling in front of the toilet, one hand gripping the side of it for balance. Your whole body shudders as another wave hits, and Joe feels his stomach twist.

“Aw, babe…” He kneels beside you immediately, one hand steadying your back. His other hand reaches for a hair tie from the counter, carefully pulling your hair away from your face.

You’re gasping for air, eyes watery and face pale. “I’m…I’m fine,” you choke out between breaths, but Joe’s not convinced.

“Yeah, no offense, but you don’t look fine,” he says softly, his hand still rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You rest your forehead against your arm on the toilet seat, completely drained. “I think I just overdid it with the prune juice.”

“Or the gummies,” Joe adds with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“Or both,” you mutter. “God, this is so embarrassing.”

“Hey,” Joe says firmly, squeezing your shoulder. “None of that. You’re growing a whole human. If anyone’s allowed to have a rough day, it’s you.”

You let out a weak, breathy laugh. “Yeah, well… my ‘rough day’ feels like a disaster movie at this point.”

Joe reaches over, grabbing a washcloth and running it under cool water. He kneels again, gently pressing it to the back of your neck.

“Better?” he asks.

“Mmhmm.” You sigh, closing your eyes as the cool cloth eases some of the heat in your face.

Joe’s quiet for a moment, but his hand never stops moving slow circles on your back, steady and calming. Then, carefully, he asks, “You sure this is just the prune juice?”

You hesitate. “I think so?” you say, but there’s doubt in your voice now. “I mean…I’ve felt weird all day. Maybe this is just my body trying to reset or something. I actually feel a little better.”

Joe’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he leans down and kisses your temple, his hand still resting warm and steady against your back.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “Let’s get you back to bed. But if this gets worse…I’m calling the doctor and it's not really up for discussion after that.”

For once, you don’t fight him.

“Deal,” you mumble, too tired to argue.

Joe keeps a steady arm wrapped around you as he helps you back to bed, moving slow and careful like you might break. You’re shaky and exhausted, and each step feels heavier than the last.

“Almost there,” he murmurs as you reach the edge of the mattress.

But just as you’re about to sit down, that sick, awful feeling rolls through you again and twisting your stomach into knots.

“Wait,” you choke out, one hand flying to your mouth. “I’m gonna—”

You barely make it back to the bathroom before you’re on your knees again, heaving into the toilet. Joe’s right behind you, one hand supporting your waist, the other protecting your hair.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, his voice calm even though his heart’s racing. “I’ve got you.”

But then just as you’re catching your breath, something shifts inside you. A low, unsettling pressure that feels nothing like the cramping and indigestion you’ve battled all day. For a split second, you think you’ve just lost control of your bladder—but then warmth rushes down your legs, soaking your pajama pants and pooling rapidly on the tile floor beneath you.

Your heart skips a beat, and your breath catches.

“Oh my God,” you whisper. “Joe…”

He’s already looking down, eyes wide as they flick from your stunned face to the growing puddle on the floor.

“Is that…?” he starts, but you nod before he can finish.

“My water just broke.” Your voice is a shaky mix of shock, disbelief, and maybe even a little relief.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then Joe exhales a stunned breath and lets out a soft laugh. The kind that sounds part amazed, part terrified.

“Well…that explains a lot.”

You laugh too, breathless, disbelieving and suddenly the day’s chaos makes sense. The weird pressure, the nausea, the miserable discomfort…your body wasn’t betraying you. It was getting ready.

“Okay,” Joe says, snapping back into focus. “I’m gonna grab your hospital bag, and call Dr. Chen.” He presses a quick kiss to your damp forehead. “We’re having a baby today.”

“Today,” you echo, still trying to wrap your head around it.

The worst day of your life? Maybe not. Maybe it’s just the start of the best one yet.

“Babe, I really think you should just wait until we get there,” Joe says, his voice tight with worry as you pull a towel from the rack.

“Joe,” you groan, stepping carefully out of your soaked pajama pants. “I just threw up, my water broke, and I’m—I don’t even know what else is happening down there. But it’s gross. And I need a shower. Desperately, I'm literally not going anywhere like this.”

He exhales through his nose, clearly fighting the urge to argue. “I get that, but the hospital’s—”

“I just need twenty minutes,” you interrupt, your voice softer now. You press a hand to your belly, feeling a lot lighter now, mentally trying to wrap your mind around the fact that this will only get worse from here. And then you'll be a parent for the rest of your life, there's no going back now. “The next time I walk into this bathroom, there’s gonna be a baby in my arms. That’s…that’s insane. I just need a minute to...breathe.”

Joe’s face softens instantly. His shoulders relax, and he steps forward, cupping your face in his hands.

“Alright,” he says quietly. “I guess you can take a few.”

You nod, suddenly feeling a lump rise in your throat. This is happening. It’s really happening.

Joe presses a kiss to your forehead and steps back. “I'm gonna grab you some clothes but I’ll be right out here if you need anything,” he promises.

You step into the shower, letting the warm water wash over you. For the first time all day, your muscles seem to unclench. The spray rinses away the sweat, the nausea, and thankfully, the sticky amniotic fluid that had left you feeling miserable.

Your mind drifts as you stand beneath the stream, one hand resting protectively on your stomach. The idea that this is the last time you’ll shower before becoming a mom is overwhelming. Exciting, terrifying, surreal. All of it is swirling together until you can’t tell where one feeling ends and the next begins.

You take a deep breath, letting the steam calm you.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you whisper, your fingers tracing slow circles over your belly. “We’re doing this.”

When you finally turn off the water and step out, Joe’s still waiting. Your hospital bag is by the door, a fresh pair of clothes is folded neatly on the bed. He looks up, smiling softly when he sees you.

“Feel better?” he asks.

You nod, drying your face with the towel. “Yeah…a lot better.”

You step out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, steam curling behind you as Joe looks up from his spot by the bed.

“Perfect timing,” he says, standing and grabbing the clothes he set out. “I brought your comfy leggings and that big sweatshirt you like.”

“You’re the best,” you murmur, taking the pile of clothes from him.

You get dressed slowly, feeling calmer now that you’re clean and in fresh clothes. Joe’s already crouched down by the door, untying your sneakers so they’re easy to slip on.

“Alright,” he says, patting one of them. “Let’s get these on and—”

Suddenly, a deep, pulling feeling grabs at your abdomen like someone’s cinching a belt around your waist.

You freeze, one hand flying to your belly as your breath hitches.

“Whoa—hey,” Joe says, instantly alert. “You okay?”

You press your eyes shut, breathing through the wave that comes and goes thankfully much faster than you thought it would. “I think…I think that was a contraction.”

Joe’s eyes go wide. “Do you alright, like you're good now? 1-10?”

“I think so. That was like a four. Wasn't bad,” you mumble out, slowly moving to sit.

Joe’s already moving, one hand on your arm to steady you as you lower yourself carefully onto the edge of the bed.

“Alright, just breathe,” he says, his voice calm but focused. “You’re good. We’re good.”

He grabs one of your sneakers and kneels in front of you.

“Okay,” he mutters, sliding the shoe onto your foot and tying it quickly. “Nice and easy.”

You’re still catching your breath when he grabs the second shoe, his fingers working fast but gentle.

“You good?” he asks again, glancing up.

You nod, still feeling shaky but relieved the pain has passed. “Yeah…this is just. Crazy.”

Joe gives your knee a reassuring squeeze. “Hey,” he says, grinning as he grabs the hospital bag. “I know you’re feeling a lot right now…but this is kind of exciting, right?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Terrifying, but yeah…exciting.”

“We’ve got this,” Joe promises, his hand sliding into yours.

And somehow, as you walk together toward the stairs your body still aching, your nerves buzzing, you can't help but smile at the fact that you get to do this with your best friend.

Joe steps closer, his hand sliding to your waist. “Good,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head. “Because I’m pretty sure our kid’s on a mission to meet us ASAP.”

You smile, a genuine one that takes over your entire being and for the first time all day, you feel ready.

You and Joe make your way downstairs, his arm still firmly around your waist as he helps you down each step. Your heart’s racing now, the nerves mixing with a strange kind of excitement. The contraction has passed, but the tension in your body still lingers, reminding you that things are really happening.

As you reach the bottom, you’re greeted by the smell of something delicious—a mix of fresh herbs and sizzling veggies. Morgan’s in the kitchen, expertly preparing lunch as always, his back to you both.

He turns when he hears you walking down the final step, his eyes landing on your focused face and Joe’s tense, wide-eyed expression. His brow furrows instantly, and without missing a beat, he sets down the knife he’s holding.

“You guys heading to the hospital?” Morgan asks, his voice even but his gaze quickly scanning you for any signs of distress.

Joe doesn’t even try to hide the mix of anxiety and excitement in his voice. “Yeah…we’re on our way. Her water broke.”

Morgan doesn’t flinch, but his lips press into a thin line, his eyes flicking between you and Joe. “Alright,” he says, nodding. “Do you need me to do anything, or are you guys good?”

You shake your head. “We’ve got it. Just, uh, just wanted to let you know.”

Joe’s still holding your hand, but now his grip tightens just slightly as if grounding you both in the chaos of the moment. “You know, Morgan, I really wish you could come with us for moral support,” Joe says with a tired grin.

Morgan gives a wry smile, though there’s no humor in his eyes. “I think you guys have that covered. I’ll hold down the fort here.”

You let out a breathy laugh, but it catches in your throat. “Thanks, Morgan…you really don’t know how much we appreciate everything.”

Morgan smiles, giving you a quick, understanding nod. “Don’t mention it. Just get to that hospital and have that baby, alright? And hurry up and bring home so I can finally know his name.”

Joe gives him a thumbs up as he helps you toward the door, your heart pounding as you walk toward the car. But the truth is, it’s finally happening. The baby’s on the way, and it's full speed ahead.

Joe’s hands are steady as he helps you into the passenger seat of the car, making sure you’re comfortable despite the cramping pressure is increasing in intensity by the minute, it seems. He leans in one last time to check the car seat, his fingers lightly brushing over the straps as he double-checks everything. His heart races, it’s almost too much to wrap his mind around.

The next time he sits in this car, his son will be in that seat.

“You ready?” he asks, his voice low and calm as he looks over at you, already buckling himself into the driver’s seat.

You nod, still trying to catch your breath but feeling a little more grounded now. “Yeah, let's do this.”

Joe gives you a small, reassuring smile before pulling out his phone. He presses a few buttons, his thumb hovering over the call button as he looks over at you.

“You texted your mom earlier, right?" You nod. "I’m gonna call my parents,” he says softly, his eyes focused on the screen but his attention still split between you and the road. "I know my mom probably already has a bag packed to stay with us for a few days."

You give him a small nod, squeezing his hand once before he presses the call button.

It rings twice before his mom picks up.

“Joe? Is everything okay?” her voice is full of excitement and anticipation like she already knows what he’s about to say.

“Hey, Mom,” he says quickly, trying to keep his voice light but failing to hide the excitement underneath. “Yeah, everything’s good. Just wanted to let you know, we’re on our way to the hospital. Y/N’s water broke.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end before she responds, her voice almost breathless. “Oh my God! Oh, Joe, that’s amazing! You’re going to be a dad! A real dad!”

Joe laughs, his nerves finally starting to settle at the sound of her voice. “I know, Mom. It’s happening, right now.”

“Okay, okay, we’re on our way. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” She’s clearly already getting ready to leave, but she pauses. “Tell that sweet girl we love her and we’re so excited.”

“I will, Mom. Love you.”

As he hangs up, he slips the phone into the cupholder and lets out a slow breath.

“Everyone should now be on their way,” Joe says, his hand gently squeezing yours. “It’s happening, babe. Our little guy is on the move.”

You smile softly, your fingers curling around his as you look out the window, knowing that the next chapter of your lives is about to begin and you’re ready.

You rest your head back against the seat, feeling the dull ache in your lower belly starting to build again. With one hand on your stomach, you fumble for your phone with the other.

“Who are you calling?” Joe asks, his eyes flicking between you and the road.

“Nikki,” you mutter, already scrolling for her name. “She’ll kill me if I don’t tell her.”

The phone rings twice before she picks up.

“Hey! What’s up?” Nikki’s voice is bright and casual, like she’s got no idea you’re in the middle of the most intense moment of your life.

“Hi,” you breathe, wincing as the ache sharpens. “Sooo…we’re heading to the hospital. Baby time.”

“OH MY GOD!” Nikki practically shrieks. “I’m grabbing my stuff right now. What do you need? Snacks? Chargers? Comfort items? A playlist? Should I bring my—”

Your hand clenches tightly around the phone as the contraction surges, fiery and all-consuming. Without thinking, your other hand shoots out and grips Joe’s thigh. Hard.

“Ahhh—oh, hang on, hang on—” you groan into the phone, squeezing Joe’s leg your own personal stress ball.

Joe’s eyes widen for a second before his hand finds yours. He presses his palm over your knuckles, grounding you as he speaks softly.

“Breathe, baby. Just breathe…I’ve got you. We’re almost there. About ten minutes out.”

The pain peaks, sharp and relentless, before finally fading enough for you to catch your breath.

“Sorry,” you gasp into the phone, blinking back tears as you rub his thigh, apologizing again. “That was a bad one.”

“Don’t apologize!” Nikki cries. “I’m on my way. I’ll meet you there, I swear.”

“Okay…just hurry,” you say weakly before hanging up.

But before you can even set the phone down, another contraction slams into you. This one much stronger and faster.

“Oh no, no, no, no—” you gasp, both hands now cupping your belly.

“Babe?” Joe’s voice sharpens, one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other reaching for you again.

“Joe, just—” you gasp, your voice thin and desperate. “Just run the light.”

He doesn’t even hesitate. His foot taps the gas, and the car surges forward through the red light. Horns blare from both directions, but Joe doesn’t care. His knuckles are white on the wheel, his gaze laser-focused on the road ahead.

Joe’s arm is weighed down by the hospital bag, your overnight duffel, and a smaller tote crammed with last-minute items but still, he keeps his left hand free, reaching out for you as the elevator doors slide closed.

“Here,” he says softly, offering his hand.

You shake your head quickly, barely able to speak as another contraction tears through you. Instead, you grip the elevator railing with both hands, your fingers curling tightly around the cold metal like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

“Wow,” you grit out, your forehead dropping forward to rest against your arm. Your breathing stutters, short and sharp as you try to focus on anything but the pressure building inside you. Now that you were out of the car you could feel the shift, he was making his way down and you felt like you had could close your legs even if you wanted to.

Joe’s face tightens with concern, but he doesn’t force anything. He steps closer instead, hovering beside you, helplessly watching you fight through it.

“It’s happening so fast,” you choke out, your voice strained and shaky. “I didn’t think it would…feel like this yet.”

Joe shifts the bags higher on his shoulder and presses his palm against the small of your back, rubbing slow, firm circles.

“I know,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. “But you’re doing so good. Just keep breathing. I’m right here.”

Another contraction swells, more forceful than the last, and your breath falters. You grip the railing even harder, your knuckles turning white as a sharp, stretching pressure radiates low in your belly and deep into your back.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, your knees threatening to buckle as you circled your hips. "I feel like I need to squat or something."

Joe’s hand freezes for a second before he quickly presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Okay, okay…we’re almost there,” he reassures you, glancing anxiously at the glowing floor numbers above the door. “Just hang on a little longer.”

The elevator feels like it’s crawling. Each second drags, and by the time the doors finally slide open, you’re trembling, overwhelmed, breathless, and bracing for whatever’s coming next.

Joe doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the bags, then steps right back to your side, curling his arm around you as you take one shaky step forward.

“You’re almost there,” he says again, his voice softer now. “We’re so close, babe…you’re almost there.”

“I’ve got you,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “Just hang on, baby.”

You clench your teeth, breathing through the pain as best you can, your fingers still locked tightly with his.

“We’re almost there,” Joe repeats, glancing at you again. “I swear we’re almost there.”

The moment you step into the hospital room, you barely register Nikki and your mom standing by the bed. They’re both mid-laugh, probably swapping nervous jokes to ease the tension. But their smiles vanish when they see you.

“Oh honey,” your mom gasps, stepping forward.

“You okay?” Nikki chimes in, wide-eyed.

You barely manage a quick, shaky hug with each of them before muttering, “I need to pee. And I need my pants off right now.”

Without waiting for a response, you shuffle straight to the bathroom, tugging your leggings down as you go. The pressure is unbearable, like your body is trying to turn itself inside out.

Joe follows you to the door but stops just outside, lingering anxiously.

“You got it?” he calls softly.

“Yeah just give me a second,” you manage through gritted teeth, gripping the bathroom counter as another contraction swells.

A knock at the main door draws Joe’s attention. The midwife steps inside—calm and confident, like she’s seen this a thousand times before.

“I hear we’ve got a baby in a hurry,” she says with a warm smile.

Joe steps aside as she sets her bag down. “She’s in the bathroom,” he says, running a hand down his face. “Contractions went from nothing to…everything in no time.”

The midwife grabs a pair of gloves. “I’ll check her as soon as she’s ready,” she says, her tone soothing yet no-nonsense.

The next contraction slams into you right there in the bathroom, stealing your breath. You brace both hands on the counter, bowing your head as you ride it out.

“Fuck me, oh my God—” you whimper, feeling the pressure deepen.

Joe’s voice comes from just outside the door. “Babe? Want me to come in?”

“N-no,” you stammer. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

The moment the contraction eases, you stumble out of the bathroom, your shirt a little damp with sweat. Your mom and Nikki both look startled, but the midwife steps in like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.

“Let’s get you on the bed,” she says gently. “I’d like to check you. Sounds like things are moving fast.”

You don’t argue. You’re too exhausted, too overwhelmed to care about modesty anymore. Joe helps you to the bed, his strong hands guiding you as you climb up and awkwardly lie back.

The midwife works quickly, gloved fingers checking your progress. You barely notice her calm smile until she looks up at you.

“Well,” she says brightly, “you’re at about eight centimeters. So you're either already in transition or it's coming soon.”

Joe’s eyes widen. “Eight? Already?”

“Oh my God,” Nikki whispers, grabbing your mom’s arm.

“That’s amazing,” your mom says, her voice shaky with emotion.

You don’t feel amazing. You feel like your body’s on fire, like you’re splitting in two or you’re going to explode.

“I don't think I can do this,” you murmur, your voice thin and ragged.

Joe steps closer, pressing his forehead to yours. “Yes, you can,” he says firmly, his hand curling around yours. “You’re doing it right now.”

“And you’re so close,” the nurse adds, her voice warm and steady. “Your body’s doing exactly what it’s supposed to.”

The room feels like organized chaos. Voices murmuring, hands adjusting, your body shifting from one position to the next as you desperately try to find some relief.

Your mom is behind you now, her legs stretched out as you lean back against her, the cool fabric of her shirt pressed against your sweaty back. The exercise ball in your lap is your only comfort, something to cling to as you rock back and forth, focusing on the rhythm instead of the relentless waves of pressure.

Nikki kneels at your side, her fingers digging into your hips, deep, firm pressure that somehow cuts through the worst of the pain.

“Right there,” you gasp between breaths. “Don’t stop. Stay right there.”

“I got you,” Nikki promises, her fingers tightening like a vise.

Joe hovers nearby, pacing like a caged animal. His eyes flick anxiously between you, your mom, and Nikki, like he’s looking for some way to help, some role to play that doesn’t involve just watching you hurt.

Finally, you glance up at him, chest heaving.

“Go grab some food,” you rasp.

Joe’s brow furrows. “What? No. I’m not leaving you.”

“Babe, seriously,” you plead. “You haven’t eaten all day, and you’re about to be up all night. Just go. I promise I’ll be okay for 20 minutes.”

Joe opens his mouth to argue when the door swings open and his mom, Robin, steps inside with a bag of food in her hands

“Perfect timing,” you breathe. You hadn’t bothered to check your phone since asking her to grab whatever Morgan was cooking for Joe to have with him.

Robin gives you a soft smile and crosses the room to her son.

“I stopped by the house,” she says, handing Joe the bag. “Morgan had it all packed up, ready to go.”

Joe stares down at the food, still hesitant. “I don’t know…”

You shift uncomfortably against the ball, another contraction creeping up your spine. “Joe… please,” you whisper, voice tight. “Just eat. I need you at 100%.”

His eyes soften, and finally, he steps back toward the chair in the corner, setting the bag down and opening the container.

“Thank you,” you say softly, reaching for his hand before he sits down. Your fingers squeeze his, a silent reminder that, even in the middle of all this, you’re still thinking about him.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I love you so much,” he murmurs.

“Love you too,” you whisper back, just as another contraction swells, strong enough to steal your breath.

Nikki’s hands tighten on your hips again, grounding you.

“Deep breaths,” your mom murmurs, her arms wrapping around your shoulders, holding you close as you ride it out.

And across the room, Joe watches you, fork frozen halfway to his mouth, amazed at how he had no idea when he woke up this morning that this would be how the day would go.

You squeeze Nikki’s hand hard as another contraction hits, letting the exercise ball go, "I need to move, this isn't working."

“You’ve got this,” she whispers, helping you lay on your side in the bed.

The room is quieter now, the energy calmer. After hours of constant movement, noise, and coaching, it’s just you and Joe. The dim lighting makes everything feel softer, less overwhelming, but the pressure inside you is still unrelenting.

You’re perched on a birth stool, legs spread wide, elbows resting on your knees, letting out soft sounds of pain. It’s not glamorous, but it’s oddly the most comfortable you’ve felt in hours, something about the position giving your body a break from gravity’s pull.

Dignity is beyond out the window. Your sports bra is damp with sweat. The waistband of your shorts is folded low beneath your belly, your body radiating heat like a furnace.

Joe’s crouched in front of you, arms resting on his knees, watching you closely.

“You okay?” he asks softly, like he’s afraid to break the calm.

You nod, rolling your shoulders back as you take a deep breath. “Weirdly…yeah. This is…kind of nice.”

His lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smile. “Can’t say I pictured it going like this, but hey, whatever works.”

You huff a weak laugh, but it quickly turns into a low groan as another contraction tightens across your belly. You shift your hips instinctively, while closing your eyes, trying to ease the pressure. Joe reaches out, rubbing slow circles on your thigh.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice steady. “Do you wanna try the shower? Might help you cool off a little.”

You drag a hand over your face, skin warm and sticky. The thought of cool water washing over you sounds like heaven.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “That actually sounds really good.”

“Okay,” Joe says immediately, standing walking over to turn the shower on, adjusting the temperature just the way you like it.

By the time he turns back, you’re already trying to peel off your shorts with shaky hands. Joe steps in to help, easing them down your legs, his touch gentle and patient.

“Couple more steps,” he murmurs softly, holding onto to you like his life depends on it. Right now, it definitely does. He has to get you through this. And he’s going to, no matter what.

When the shower’s ready, he guides you inside, one arm curled protectively around your waist. The warm spray hits your skin, and you exhale a long, shaky breath, the first moment of relief you’ve felt in what feels like hours.

Joe steps just inside the shower, still in his t-shirt and shorts, bracing one hand against the wall to keep steady as he rubs slow circles across your back.

“That better?” he asks quietly.

You nod, your forehead pressing into his chest.

“So much better,” you murmur, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath your skin.

For a few precious moments, it’s just you, Joe, and the sound of the water. Everything is quiet, calm, and still.

Joe grabs the showerhead with his left hand, adjusting the spray to a steady stream. With his right hand, he reaches out for you.

“Here,” he says gently. “Squeeze if you need to.”

You eye his hand warily, knowing full well what your grip’s capable of right now.

“I’m not crushing your throwing hand,” you say through a shaky breath. “I’m not about to have Bengals fans making wanted posters of me.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, then switches the showerhead to his right hand and holds out his left instead.

“Alright, fine,” he says with a small laugh. “This one’s expendable.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, gripping his left hand as the next contraction rolls in. You groan low in your throat, bending forward slightly as the pressure tightens across your belly and back.

“Okaaay, okay…breathe,” Joe soothes, running the cool stream of water down your spine. The relief isn’t perfect, but it’s enough to keep you from feeling like you’re drowning in the pain.

The next sound that leaves your mouth is somewhere between a moan and a wail, guttural, raw, and absolutely unflattering.

“Oh my God,” you pant afterward. “I sound like a dying cow.”

Joe leans in, pressing a kiss to the damp side of your head. “That’s great,” he murmurs, “I love cows.”

You let out a breathless laugh, too exhausted to manage anything more.

“I’m serious,” he continues, his thumb tracing slow circles across the back of your hand. “Strong, beautiful…and a little stubborn when they’re in a mood.”

“I hate you,” you mutter, even though you’re smiling.

“No, you don’t,” Joe says softly, running the cool water down your back again. “You’re doing amazing…and I’m so proud of you.”

Your fingers squeeze his hand, hard, as another contraction tears through you. Joe doesn’t flinch. He just holds on tighter, staying steady and solid beside you.

“You’ve got this,” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

The pressure in your lower back and pelvis suddenly shifts—deeper, sharper —and a new kind of discomfort blooms, making it impossible to stay seated.

“I can’t sit anymore,” you gasp, wincing as you shift your weight. “It’s too much. My butt hurts.”

Joe’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t hesitate. He slides an arm around your waist, steadying you as you rise shakily to your feet.

The second you’re upright, it’s like gravity grabs hold. A powerful downward pressure that takes your breath away. Before you can even think to stop it, your body bears down on its own, your muscles clenching and pushing without permission.

“Hahh! Okay…okay. Oh my god.” you cry, one hand shooting between your legs on instinct.

“What? What is it?” Joe’s voice is sharp now, his eyes scanning you in panic.

You wanted to answer but you couldn't talk. You couldn't do anything but focus inward and do exactly what your body was demanding, curling in on yourself, bending your knees slightly. The sounds you were making were different, less breathing and more deep sounds, guttural...primal. Joe freezes for half a second before snapping into action.

“Babe? Oh you’re…you’re pushing." He notes, like saying it out loud would make it less daunting. "Alright, okay just…hang on.” He carefully turns off the shower, wrapping one arm securely around you. “We need to make sure you’re at 10, babe. Can you try to hold on for a second? It's hard, I know, we just gotta make sure you're ready so you don't hurt yourself."

“I can’t stop,” you pant, rocking your hips desperately, trying to breathe through the overwhelming urge to bear down. One hand grips your stomach, the other braced between your legs like you can physically hold your son inside.

Joe’s grip tightens. “I know—I know,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm. “Just…just try. I’m gonna get your mom or Nikki.”

You barely register him yelling as he helps you stagger out of the bathroom.

“Hey, I need someone to hit the call button. Right now.”

Your mom bursts into the bathroom just as you half-squat in the shower, your body pushing again with a force that steals your breath.

“I'm either shitting myself or he’s coming,” you choke out, tears springing to your eyes.

Your mom runs back to the bed and slams her hand on the call button, calling for immediate medical assistance. Joe is only focused on you, one hand bracing your back, the other gripping your hand as your fingers dig into his palm.

The reality of what’s happening hits Joe like a freight train, Kai isn’t just coming, he’s right there. His breathing stutters, but he forces himself to focus. You’re leaning heavily against him, your face twisted in pain, but you’re still fighting, still pushing.

“Just breathe,” he says, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “You’re okay. You’re good. I’m right here.”

“I need…I need to move,” you gasp, your body desperate for a new position.

“Whenever you’re ready, we’ll take it slow,” he says, helping you shift onto your hands and knees. His arm stays braced beneath you, holding you steady as you adjust.

The moment your weight settles into place, another powerful contraction grips you, and you bear down hard, arching your back as you push. Your whole body shakes with the effort.

The nurse rushes in then with a few people trailing behind, her voice is calm but urgent. “Joe?” she says firmly, locking eyes with him as she kneels beside you. “I need you to stay right where you are, you’re doing great.”

Joe swallows hard and nods, his grip tightening on you as the she guides him.

“Okay, his head’s almost out,” the nurse says, motioning to one of the medical aids. She presses a cold compress into Joe’s hand. “Hold this here, help her stretch.”

Joe places the cool cloth against your skin, and you let out a shuddering sigh at the relief it brings.

“When she pushes again, I want you to support him. Don’t pull, just let him come.”

Joe’s fingers tremble slightly, but he nods again. “I’ve got him,” he says, more certain this time.

Another contraction rips through you, and you cry out, pressing your forehead into Joe’s shoulder as your body bears down.

“There you go, baby,” Joe whispers, his voice breaking. “You’re doing so good…so good.”

Suddenly, the baby’s head slips free into Joe’s waiting hands—warm, damp, and shockingly real.

“Holy shit,” Joe gasps, his voice barely a whisper. “…his head’s out.”

“Check for a cord.” The nurse cuts in.

Joe swallows hard and gently runs his fingers around the baby’s head, careful and precise. “No cord,” he says, relief flooding his voice.

You’re shaking, exhausted and overwhelmed, but Joe’s voice cuts through the noise.

“You can do this,” he whispers against your temple, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”

With the next contraction, you push hard, crying out as Kai’s shoulders slip free, followed by the rest of his tiny body. The midwife hands him a clean towel just in time to catch the warm, slippery weight of his baby boy, who enters the world with a rush of fluid and an angry, piercing cry.

“Oh my God,” Joe breathes, his voice breaking as he carefully lifts his son onto his back, cradling him in the fresh towel.

“He’s here,” Joe chokes out, pressing a kiss to your damp shoulder. “He’s here…and he’s so—oh my god. He’s actually here.”

Tears spill down your face as you reach back weakly, your fingertips brushing your son’s tiny hand.

“You did it,” Joe whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re incredible.”

And as their son’s cries echo through the room, Joe can’t stop staring. His heart full, hand still steady on your back unbelievably overwhelmed by the sight of the strongest two people he’s ever known.

The sound of your baby’s first cry fills the room —loud, raw, and impossibly perfect. You let out a shaky breath, your body sagging with exhaustion and overwhelming relief.

“He’s here,” Joe whispers again, his voice breaking as he cradles your son’s tiny body in the towel. “Little man’s got some lungs on him.”

You chuckle softly, your fingertips brushing Kai’s damp hair. He’s warm and wriggling beneath Joe’s steady hands, his cries fierce and strong.

“Kai,” you rasp, barely able to get the word out through your tears. “Took you long enough sweet boy.”

Joe’s face crumples as he leans in closer, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. His free hand finds yours, fingers lacing together tightly. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice thick. “Both of you. So much.

Outside the bathroom door, Nikki and your mom, who had been frozen in terrified silence through those final moments, each let out a shaky sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” Nikki whispers, pressing a hand to her heart.

Your mom wipes her eyes, her breath catching. “He’s here,” she says softly, her voice full of awe.

Neither of you can believe there’s a baby in your arms. His cries soften the moment your skin meets his, his tiny fingers curling against you.

Joe leans in, his arm around both of you, his lips brushing your temple. “He’s perfect,” he whispers.

The nurses gently lift Kai from your chest, cradling him in a soft towel as they prepare to take him to be cleaned up. The rest of her team surrounds you immediately after, checking you over and checking you over.

Joe’s eyes flicker between you and Kai, a mix of joy and worry crossing his face. “Do you need me here?” he asks, his voice full of concern. “I don’t want to leave you alone…”

You reach out, your hand still shaky from the delivery, but you manage to catch his. You smile softly, trying to ease his mind.

“I’m okay, Joe,” you whisper, your voice quiet but steady. “Go with him. He needs you, too.”

Joe’s eyes soften, his thumb brushing the back of your hand. He looks at Kai one last time before meeting your gaze, his heart torn. “But—”

“Joe,” you interrupt gently, “I’ll be fine. You go with him. He’s our son. You don’t want to miss a minute of that.”

A soft smile tugs at his lips, but there’s still hesitation in his eyes. Finally, with a reluctant nod, he turns to the nurses, his voice thick.

“I’ll be right over there with my adult diaper on.”

One of the nurses smiles and nods in reassurance, carefully carrying Kai toward the warmer. Joe hesitates for a moment longer, then leans down to kiss your forehead.

“I love you,” he says, his voice full of emotion.

“I love you too,” you reply, your eyes locking with his. “Now go.”

Joe gives you one last lingering look before following the nurses toward the table, his steps slow as he watches his son being gently cleaned. His heart, still racing, finds some calm in the knowledge that his family is safe and sound.

Back by your side, the midwife helps you settle into bed, cleaning you up gently but efficiently. You take a deep breath, your body aching but content, watching as Joe gazes down at Kai from the other side of the room, his hands trembling with a kind of wonder as he meets their son for the first time.

And you know, no matter what, your world has just changed forever.

Kai is carefully swaddled in a soft, baby blue blanket, his tiny body snug and warm. The nurses hand him off to Joe, and the second he holds his son in his arms, Joe’s breath catches. His gaze softens, and a smile spreads across his face as he looks down at the tiny face peeking out from the blanket.

He takes a long, stunned moment, unable to tear his eyes away from Kai. The baby’s icy blue eyes are still a little puffy, his features soft and delicate, but the resemblance is undeniable.

“Damn,” Joe breathes, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. “He looks like me. He looks exactly like me.”

He turns toward you, still holding Kai carefully in his arms, and you can’t help but laugh softly at the sight.

“Well,” you tease, your voice still a little raspy from the delivery, “I guess my genes didn’t even try, huh?”

Joe chuckles, his eyes still glued to his son, as he gently walks over to you. “At least the hair is all yours,” he says with a smile, his tone full of pure love. “He’s perfect.”

He settles beside you on the bed, carefully placing Kai in your arms. As soon as you cradle him, Kai’s tiny hand instinctively grabs onto your finger, and your heart melts all over again.

Joe leans in, his lips brushing your temple as he whispers, “He’s ours.”

And in that moment, you know with every fiber of your being, everything you’ve ever dreamed of has just come true.

Nikki and your mom both take turns holding Kai, their faces glowing with pure joy as they marvel at him. Nikki, teary-eyed, gently rocks him in her arms, whispering softly to him as if already promising a lifetime of friendship and love. Your mom smiles warmly, brushing a finger along his cheek as she coos, “He’s perfect. Just like his parents.”

Joe watches them with a soft smile on his face, still in awe of how everything has fallen into place. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out, glancing at the screen. It’s his mom.

He steps into the corner of the room, his voice already trembling with emotion as he answers.

“Hey, Mom,” Joe says, a grin spreading across his face. “Kai’s here.”

Robin’s voice comes through loud and clear, excited and full of joy. “Oh my god, Joe! He’s here!”

“Yeah,” Joe laughs, his heart soaring. “He’s perfect, Mom. He looks just like me.”

Robin lets out a soft chuckle, clearly overjoyed. “I can’t wait to meet him! We’re on our way. We’ll be there in about 10 minutes.”

Joe looks over at you, his heart full, and you give him a small nod, a smile lighting up your face despite the exhaustion still lingering in your body. You reach out for Kai again, holding him close as you breathe in the scent of his soft skin, overwhelmed by the love that fills the room.

“We’ll be waiting,” Joe says into the phone, his voice thick with emotion. “Can’t wait for you to meet him.”

He hangs up and turns back to the room, his eyes softening as he takes in the sight of his son being held by your mom and Nikki.

“They’ll be here soon,” Joe says quietly, walking back to your side. “But for now, it’s just us.”

You smile, your eyes locking with his. “Just us.”

And as you both sit there, wrapped in the warmth of your new family, you can’t help but feel that, no matter how much time passes, you’ll never forget this moment, when everything finally felt complete.

A few minutes later, the door to the room opens and Robin and Jimmy walk in, their eyes immediately locking on Kai, still peacefully nestled in your arms.

Joe’s parents stop in their tracks, both of them overcome with emotion. Robin’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears as she takes a step closer, her voice trembling.

“Oh my God honey…he’s beautiful,” Robin whispers, her voice full of awe.

Jimmy, usually reserved, can’t help but smile widely as he steps forward, his eyes twinkling with pride. “Look at him,” he murmurs, his voice thick. “He’s got your eyes, Joe.”

Joe, standing next to you, watches as his parents approach. His heart swells seeing the look on their faces, pure, unfiltered love. He gently takes Kai from your arms and cradles him against his chest, carefully walking over to his parents.

Robin reaches out first, her hands trembling as she gently holds Kai for the first time. She gazes down at him, tears spilling over as she whispers, “My baby boy now has his own baby boy.”

Joe watches, his own emotions thick in his throat as he stands beside his mom, who can barely hold herself together. Robin leans in, kissing Kai’s tiny forehead, her voice breaking as she says, “I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life.”

She looks up at Joe, her eyes full of love. “You’ve made me the happiest mom in the world.”

Joe smiles, his throat tight with emotion, but he manages to speak. “I just can’t believe he’s here. And he’s real.”

Jimmy, his voice soft, adds, “You’re a dad now, kid. It’s…it’s something else.”

Robin holds Kai a little longer, her tears falling freely now as she cradles him gently, overwhelmed by the fact that her son—her only child—has started a family of his own.

Joe watches, his hand resting gently on her shoulder, his heart swelling at the sight. “We’ve got a family now,” he says quietly, looking at you. “A real one.”

On a bright sunny day in May, Kai Joseph Burrow entered the world, all 10lbs 3oz of him.

And as the room fills with quiet, overwhelming emotion, you realize just how much love surrounds you, how deeply your family has grown, and how everything, no matter how difficult or challenging it’s been? It’s all led to this perfect moment.

Life would never be the same. And after today? You can’t wait to get this next chapter started.

#Joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x you #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fic #nfl imagine

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chronicowboy · 26 days ago

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'cause my heart softens to your name | 3.1k

It had been a quiet shift. Minor calls and lots of downtime. That usually meant sharks circling until they caught blood in the water. And, well, Eddie had made the mistake of asking Buck if he'd taken the laundry out of the dryer before they'd left for work that morning in full earshot of the peanut gallery. Hen had snapped her book shut with a resounding snap, Chimney perked up like a meerkat, even Bobby looked up from his chopping board. Ravi, at least, had the decency to hunker down in his seat and pretend to be texting someone.

The interrogation was instant. Dizzying. Hen and Chim lobbing questions and jokes back and forth with a terrifying efficiency.

How long has it been now? Couch killing your back, Buckaroo? Is he driving you crazy yet, Diaz? Are his socks everywhere? Do you split the bills fifty-fifty? Is Christopher sleeping okay, you know, with all the snoring?

And Eddie had watched, a frown tugging at the furrow of his brow, Buck shrink further into the couch with every question. It wasn't until Bobby asked what their long term plan was that Eddie intervened.

It's been two months. We share the bed. I missed him while I was gone, it's nice having him around all the time. His socks were everywhere long before he moved in. Yes, we go halfsies on the bills. Buck's snoring is white noise now, we struggled to sleep without it in Texas.

He'd ignored Bobby's question. Couldn't touch that one. Not in front of everyone else. Not when he hadn't plucked up the courage to talk to Buck about it at home quite yet. And he would! He was working on it. Because living with Buck was... Revolutionary. Eddie couldn't fathom why they hadn't been doing this the whole time. Because home had never felt so much like home before. And he wanted it to be permanent. Not this delicate limbo everyone seemed to think they were stuck in.

Eddie wanted to carpool to work every single day, never wanted to drive his stupid fucking vomit-smelling Honda again. He wanted to divvy up the chores every Monday. Wanted to clean the dishes whilst Buck dried every night for the rest of his life. Wanted to crawl into bed beside Buck and, well, he wanted a lot more than that. He was working on that too. He just needed a little more time.

(or: eddie knows what he wants, buck doesn't, they slow dance)

#sami rambles #FIC!!#my last one before i have to lock in for essays ughhhh #but its essentially just a compilation of all my episode posts so!#911 spoilers #buddie #buck x eddie #911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie fic #buddie fanfic

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froggiewrites · 8 months ago

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Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

SFW

Summary: You spend the night crying into your drinks about how much you want Sanji, and how much it hurts he's in love with someone else. Sanji spends the night crying about much the same. Your friends get sick of it, and decide to help the idiots realize what everyone else already knows. Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Misunderstandings, Sanji and Reader both being idiots Word Count: 4.1k

You are going to get drunk tonight. Plastered, even.

Another day, another victory, another adventure spent staring longingly at Sanji when you were sure he wasn’t looking. You could usually handle the embarrassment of acting like a lovesick puppy for a man you knew didn’t feel the same, but something about today really set you off. Maybe it was the way he so sweetly called Nami’s name when you all reunited, or the way he so carefully prepared Robin her favorite drinks, or some other transgression you can’t quite remember. You don’t know exactly what it was, but you know you’re irritated and hurt and a little heartbroken, and there’s about a half a dozen drinks with your name on them behind the bar.

The tavern is lively and loud, and the rest of the crew is clearly having a good time. Your eyes briefly linger on Sanji at the bar, but you try to force your eyes away. No point in lingering here, yearning for something you can’t have. You instead make your way to the back of the room, wedging yourself between Zoro and Robin, who seem to be drinking in silence together.

You had intended on sharing in the peaceful silence, broken only by some quiet comments and gentle chuckles, but three drinks in you can see them side-eyeing you, brows furrowed.

“What?” Your voice comes out harsher than you meant it to, but you’re a bit too drunk to care.

“Just surprised you’re drinking so much, is all. You normally pace yourself more than this.” Robin’s voice is quiet and controlled, as though she’s just making a passive observation, but you know your friends and you know she is deeply worried about you.

“I had a bad day.”

“Really? You seemed fine earlier.” Zoro sounds genuinely surprised. Robin shoots him a look you can’t read, and he quickly shuts his mouth.

“Does this have anything to do with a certain someone?” Her voice is kind, so kind, but it makes you clench your jaw anyway.

“No.”

Silence.

“Maybe.”

Zoro mutters, “Oh, god damnit,” before taking another stiff pull of his drink.

“What happened, exactly? You both seemed perfectly friendly this morning.”

“I don’t…know. Everything was fine until it wasn’t, and now I’m all twisted into knots and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Well maybe you can start by telling us how you feel, and we can try to help you unravel all of this.”

“We?”

You both ignore Zoro’s confusion and indignation. “Maybe…if you think it will help.” You close your eyes, grounding yourself, and focusing wholly inward. “I just think I’m…tired of wanting things I can’t have. It’s really hard to be on a ship full of people living their dreams, fighting for everything they desire, and I’m here, feeling like I have to constantly hold so tight I feel like my fingers will break or else it’ll all slip through my fingers.”

“And do you feel like you’re holding onto Sanji?”

“Not just him, I guess. To everything. To all of you. But I’m trying to let myself believe that all of this is what I want, and that it’s going to be forever, and then I see him smile at someone else and the illusion just…shatters. I’m not happy. And I know damn well it won’t last forever. I feel like I’m stuck waiting for an inevitable ending that I’ll never be satisfied with. Right now, I’m in limbo, and I can keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt, but every time I think about how hopeless I feel with him it kind of reminds me of how hopeless it all is.”

You put your head in your hands for a moment, taking a deep breath. “And it’s not only about him, right? It’s just kind of a general dissatisfaction with where I am compared to you guys. But I would be lying if I said it wasn’t more about Sanji than it isn’t. He’s both, like, a symbol of it and the source of it. He’s the thing I want most, and he’s the thing I know I’m never going to have.”

“Why do you think you’ll never have him?”

“Because he’s in love with Nami.” You say it like it’s obvious.

Zoro is glaring at his drink, still wondering how he got roped into this conversation and praying you stop, while Robin gives you a gentle look resembling sympathy. There's something behind her eyes though, something you can't read, that makes you feel a bit uneasy.

"It's one thing, to have your love unrequited. For the man you're in love with to be hopelessly smitten with someone else. But god, it's another for him to be right."

"Right?" Robin's voice doesn't betray anything as she keeps her tone to a careful academic neutrality.

"It's just...she is that wonderful. I can't be upset about it because I can't blame either of them. She's beautiful and kind and capable and he's...well. He's everything. It just makes sense. It's somehow harder not to be bitter because I really don't have anything to be bitter about, if that makes sense."

"It would make sense if anything you said was true." Zoro's voice is gruff, and you look to him in surprise, only to find his expression mirroring your own, as though he can't believe he opened his mouth. "He sucks, and she's great and all but she's no angel. And they aren't in love anyway so I don't understand what the problem even is." You think he's trying to help. Sweet, if ineffective.

"He's in love with her. He has been since the day they met. You know that, you were there."

"That isn't love. He's just a horny idiot."

"He's not an idiot." You hate how defensive your tone gets, how pathetic it makes you feel. You hate even more that Zoro and Robin both look at you with undisguised pity.

"I think what Zoro is trying to say is that you seem to think his feelings for Nami go a lot deeper than they do. They're just friends. He just speaks to all women like that."

"Not me."

You all hate the silence that follows.

"He hits on you too." Zoro's voice is a little weaker than before, knowing his argument isn't exactly rock solid. He's kind to you, complimentary, but he's never rushed into battle alone to save you. He's never ridden in on a blazing white steed for you, not like he has Robin or Nami. And sure, you've never been kidnapped like them, but it's hard not to feel the difference when Mr Prince himself has never played his part with you. He's kind to you, so very kind, but he's kind to everyone. That's just who he is.

“You know it isn’t the same, Zoro. It’s always Nami first. It always has been. He talks to me the same way he would any woman. Less than that, even.” You start tearing up despite yourself, and you hope your friends will blame your fragility on your drink and not your tender heart. “He just…he doesn’t look at me like that. He doesn’t fall at my feet, and it’s not like I want him to but…” You break into a quiet sob, and Robin’s hand comes to your shoulder, rubbing calming circles there.

Zoro leans in a bit, clearly a little uncomfortable but worried and kind nonetheless. “That stupid cook cares about you a lot more than any stranger on the street, and I think you know that. He’s just an idiot.” You look up at him, confused, and Zoro tries not to let out an annoyed sigh at your obliviousness. It isn’t entirely your fault. Who could blame you for thinking what you did? It’s not like Sanji helped with that. He didn’t give you the dramatic love confessions he did Nami or Robin. Nami had asked him once why he sang your praises differently than he did theirs, and he had insisted that he would give you only the grandest speeches, once he had prepared words worthy of you. The rest of the crew quickly figured out what he really meant: he was too nervous to say such a thing when he really meant it. He would instead tuck his love into the food and drinks he served you, into the jacket he placed over your shoulders when you were cold, into the gentle smiles he gave you when you weren’t looking. Everyone had agreed not to push him before he was ready, to let you both find your way to each other naturally, but it was becoming apparent this was the wrong move.

You keep crying into your glass, and Zoro sighs. You’re both ridiculous. What a pair.

Across the bar, Usopp lets out his fiftieth sigh of the night. He has no idea how he got roped into this. Sanji is somewhere between sorrow and rage, buried in a pile of empty glasses that reek of beer. He's been going on for at least fifteen minutes now, and if Usopp had even slightly less of a conscience he'd leave him here to wallow, considering his problem is entirely self-inflicted. But unfortunately, Usopp is a great friend, so instead he bravely sits on this barstool, a listening ear to make sure Sanji's drowning his troubles doesn't end in Sanji himself drowning after he stumbles his way home alone.

"It's not right." Sanji's voice is shaky with emotion, even with his words slurred.

Usopp sighs, pretending he hasn't heard this exact line of conversation three times tonight. "What's not right, buddy?"

"He doesn't...he doesn't deserve her. He isn't good enough for her. That stupid swordsman...what does she see in him?" He takes another swig of his drink, letting out a deep sigh and dropping his shoulders. "He's just...he's not even nice to her. Not like he should be."

"He's being nice to her right now." Usopp motions over to where you're having your own pity party, one Zoro seems to have become an unwilling guest of. Robin is patting your shoulder in sympathy, while Zoro leans closer to say something to you, care and concern obvious on his face to those who knew him.

"But he should worship her. Everyone should. She's...she's..." Sanji drunkenly trails off.

"An angel?"

"A goddess." Despite the glaze over his eyes, his conviction shines though, granting him a focus he hasn't had all night as he gazes at her. "Someone to be cherished, protected, adored. He doesn't adore her. He should be on his knees right now begging for her attention, and he's just...talking to her. Like he would anybody."

"Probably because they're friends."

"But look at her. She clearly wants more than that. She should get whatever she wants. On a silver platter." Sanji really emphasizes that last part, lips pouting and brow tightening. Usopp looks over again to see you about to cry into your drink, leaning further into Robin. You aren't even looking at Zoro right now, but Sanji is still burning with envy. Usopp would love to set him straight, tell him that anyone with eyes could see who's attention you really wanted, but he knows you'd kill him, and he quite likes being alive. Sanji's so filled with malice and self loathing right now that he probably wouldn't even believe him, anyway. For a man so delusional about love, he somehow can’t see it when it’s right in front of him.

“I think you’re a little lost here, Sanji. She’s not in love with Zoro. She’s just drunk and sad. Reminds me of someone else I know.” He keeps that last part under his breath, and Sanji is drunk enough not to have heard it. Instead he frowns, taking another swig of his drink before trying to stand and falling directly into the counter. Your head pops up across the room, eyes wide and concerned, ready to leap to Sanji’s rescue. It’s amazing how blind that man must be to not see how obsessed with him you are. Usopp waves you off before hooking his hands under Sanji’s armpits and hauling him up. “Time to go, loverboy. You’ve had enough.”

“But she needs me!” Sanji struggles, but he’s so drunk he can’t properly utilize his strength. Lucky, or he’d already be halfway across the room to make an ass of himself. Usopp notices a small trickle of blood on his forehead from where he made contact with the bar.

“She’s fine, I promise. But you need to take a trip to see Chopper.”

“I need to help her! I can’t leave a lady in distress!”

“The lady will be in a lot more distress if she sees you’re hurt, Sanji! So get moving!” Usopp starts dragging him unceremoniously from the tavern, praying Franky will still be awake when he gets back to the ship to help him maneuver Sanji into his cot. Sanji passes out about halfway back to the Sunny, mercifully. Usopp hopes Robin and Zoro are having a better time with their other drunken crewmate.

You wake up with a pounding headache and the worst case of dry-mouth you’ve ever experienced. Your eyes just barely crack open, letting in a blinding ray of light, and you let out a small groan of pain. There’s a large glass of water by your bedside and some pills, as well as a small note from Chopper telling you to meet him in the infirmary once you feel up to walking. You chug the water and take your medicine gladly, touched by the sweet gesture. Your crew takes such good care of you.

It takes a while for the medicine to kick in enough for the light to stop hurting, but eventually you’re able to stand. You can’t remember the latter half of last night, your last memory being Sanji slamming his head into the counter while Robin and Zoro held you back from running to him. Zoro had supplied you with another drink then, and Robin had asked you more probing questions, but you could not for the life of you remember any other specifics. You make your way to Chopper’s infirmary so lost in thought you didn’t notice the mischievous looks in the eyes of your crewmates, the way their gazes subtly followed you as you walked.

“Chopper?” Your voice is still a little hoarse from having cried your heart out last night. You slip through the door, expecting to find your dear doctor ready to fuss over you and scold you for overdoing it last night. Instead you find Sanji face first in a bed, a small bandage wrapped around his head. Before you can ask if he’s alright, or if he knows where Chopper is, you hear it.

Click.

Your eyes widen. Your hand reaches for the doorknob, ready to turn it, and you find it doesn’t budge.

“What the fuck?”

Sanji groans again, slowly and carefully sitting up, before looking over at you. “What are you doing here, darling?” He looks at your hand, up at your expression, then back down to the doorknob. “Why…why is the doorknob backwards?”

Instead of the lock being where it should be, you find the keyhole on the inside of the door. There’s slight scratches around the nails holding it and place, and you realize someone has turned it around. There’s a quiet murmur of voices on the other side of the door, which turns to a yelp when you punch the wood. “What the hell is this?”

“We’re helping!” Nami’s voice rings out confidently from the other side, and you hear a few noises of agreement.

“With what, exactly?” You have a horrible sinking feeling you know exactly what they’re going to say, but you try to push it out of your mind, channeling the relentless optimism of your captain.

“We’re tired of you two being idiots!” Zoro’s voice is annoyed and unfriendly, but after a moment it slightly softens. “Just…talk to each other. Like people. For once in your lives.”

You don’t know why, but something about that makes Sanji’s brow twitch in annoyance. “Let us out, mosshead! I knew you were awful but I can’t believe you’d trap a lady!”

“It wasn’t my goddamn idea! Blame Nami!”

Sanji pauses in his yelling at that, but shockingly enough, he still seems upset instead of instantly kowtowing. He frowns, forehead wrinkling, but doesn’t say anything else.

“We aren’t letting you out until you’ve talked. We’re gonna go so you have privacy, but if you break out we’re putting you right back in, so don’t even think about just kicking down the door!” Nami’s voice is firm and commanding, and you find your shoulders slumping, knowing there’s no real point in fighting her. You’re both hungover, exhausted, and not in any state to continue the conflict. You sigh, making your way to a cot next to Sanji’s. You throw yourself down, the slight bounce you make on landing making you far more nauseous than it had any right to.

“Do you know what they want us to talk about?” Sanji sounds almost nervous, which surprises you. Does he know?

“I…have an idea. Do you?”

“I might.”

You both shift awkwardly in the silence that follows. You fidget with your hands, curling in tighter, anxiety eating at you. This is it. This is the rejection you’ve been waiting for. The final blow to shatter your fragile hopes, to crush your remaining optimism and the wonderful future you’ve allowed yourself to keep dreaming of.

“What do you see in him?” Sanji’s voice is quiet and seeping with vulnerability. His eyes are closed, as though he’s scared to even look at you and get your answer.

“What do I see in who?”

“In that stupid swordsman. Why do you care about him?”

“What?” You blink owlishly.

He finally looks up at you. He blinks back. “What do you mean, what?”

“Why are you talking to me like I’m dating Zoro?”

“Are you…not? Trying to do that?”

“No! God no! I’m–” You barely hold yourself back from saying trying to date you. “I’m not into Zoro like that. Did you think I was?”

“I–um. No?” His dour look turns sheepish, a small bit of red painting his cheeks. Adorable.

“God, Sanji. Zoro is not my type.” You both sit for a moment, before you realize something. “Were you upset because you thought I was into him?”

“He isn’t good enough for you.” He says it so matter-of-fact, like it’s an obvious truth. “No one is, but especially not him. You deserve the best, and nothing less.”

Your heart flutters a little, that little thing with feathers worming its way back into you, but you suddenly see Nami’s face in your mind and you crush it. To dream and watch it die is far worse than never dreaming at all. “That’s sweet, Sanji. But you shouldn’t say things like that. You might give someone the wrong idea.”

His head cocks to the side. “What do you mean, wrong idea? You do deserve the best. No one in the world deserves it more than you.”

“What about Nami?”

“Does she not deserve the best? More than I do? More than anyone? Your sweet Nami-swan?” You fail to keep the bitterness out of your tone in that. Not bitterness towards her, of course, or even towards Sanji, really, just a sour taste in your mouth you can’t quite shake.

His brow furrows, lips downturned. “Well she deserves the best too, of course, but why would she deserve it more? Why wouldn’t you deserve everything you want?”

You let out a frustrated growl. “That’s what I want to know! Why not me?” You slam your hand over your mouth. God, he knows, and now he’s going to reject you, so sweetly and kindly, like he does everything, and it’s going to shatter you into a million pieces. You squeeze your eyes shut like blocking out the sight of him will undo what you’ve just done.

You don’t hear him reject you. You don’t even hear him move. You only feel warm hands on your cheeks, and you open your eyes to see Sanji right in front of you, nose to nose, and you can see reflected in his eyes something you might dare to call hope.

“Do you want it to be you?” You hear a longing in his words, see it in his eyes. You have never known Sanji as a man to want, to desire more than what he’s freely given, but in this moment it truly almost seems like he wants you.

You slowly take your hand off of your mouth. Your voice is meek, mouselike, but you force it out anyway. “Would that be okay? If I did?”

“Oh angel, it would be more than okay.” He slides impossibly closer, thighs on either side of yours, torsos pressed together, surrounding you wholly. “It is you. It has always been you. It will always be you. Is that okay?”

You want to answer him in words, something articulate that would move his heart, but instead you let out a soft squeak of surprise before grabbing his cheeks and pulling his lips to yours. They’re chapped, the dehydration from the hangover still plaguing him. He has morning breath. His movements are uncoordinated, unsteady. His goatee scratches your chin. When he opens his mouth, welcoming you further, he tastes like cigarettes and a hint of shitty beer.

It’s the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You end up on your back, Sanji’s weight holding you down, comforting and all-consuming. His hands rest on your hips as yours tangle in his hair. You only pull back when the demand for air is too much, and even then you consider ignoring the scream of your lungs. You both pull back, chests heaving, and Sanji buries his face in your neck.

“I never thought I’d actually get to do this.” He buries his nose further into your neck, his arms sliding underneath you to pull you into a tight embrace.

“Neither did I. I kept telling myself to stop dreaming about things I couldn’t have.”

“You’ve had me from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“You’ve had me for just as long.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

You take a strained breath. “I was…I don’t deserve you. And I thought you knew that. And that you were in love with Nami. That didn’t help.”

He pulls back to look you in the eyes, his gaze boring into you. “You thought you didn’t deserve me?” He sounds absolutely baffled at the idea.

“You’re kind, talented, strong, handsome…you’re everything, Sanji. You deserve everything you want. And I didn’t think you wanted me.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before a small chuckle forces its way out of him. “That’s…that’s so ridiculous I genuinely don’t even know where to start.”

He kisses your forehead. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and everything I’m ever going to want.”

He kisses your cheeks. “I have wanted you from the moment we met, and I will want you until the day I die.”

He kisses the tip of your nose. “I have never met anyone more deserving of the world than you. And I’m not going to let anyone say otherwise. Even you. So there.”

You lean up to kiss his forehead in turn. “Well there’s nothing in this world I want more than you. Can I really have you?”

He takes one of your hands and places it over his rapidly beating heart. “You feel that? It’s all yours.” He lifts your other hand and kisses it in a deeply princely gesture that fits him perfectly.

Before you can reciprocate, the door slams open, and you hear Zoro’s disgruntled voice call out. “They’re making out! Can we be done with this now?”

Sanji whips around with even more vitriol than he usually reserves for the swordsman. “Piss off, mosshead. Can’t you see we’re busy?” The quick movement makes him sway slightly, and you’re forced to remember how horribly you’re both doing physically. If he picks a fight with Zoro right now he might end up puking all over his shoes.

“Ignore him, Sanji. We need to get some rest anyway.” You pull his face into your chest, which he gladly collapses fully into. When you run your fingers through his hair, he’s practically purring.

“Anything you say, my love.” His content smile grows wider when he hears your heart quicken at the words. Neither of you say anything else as your friends crowd the room, with their finallys and about times. Nothing in the world matters more than this right now: the feeling of each other’s warmth, the softness of each other’s skin, and the feeling of relief in both of your chests that your hopes were finally allowed to thrive.

#sanji x reader #one piece x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #x reader #one piece

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roanofarcc · 9 months ago

Text

CHASE IT

pairing. javi rivera x reader

summary. Javi has a problem telling you how he feels until he almost loses you.

warnings. angst with a happy ending! slightly inaccurate meteorological info, a curse word or two, descriptions of injuries, reader gets hurt, love confessions! movie scenes will not be shot-for-shot but as close as I can remember.

word count. 2.5k || masterlist

The car ride to El Reno was tense. A tornado was hurling toward a town full of people and Javi had made the decision to follow Kate, Tyler, and the rest of the wranglers to help instead of staying with Storm Par. And as much as you wanted to tell him it was the right choice, you were too stubborn to. It wasn’t because you didn’t agree; you did. You’d been skeptical of the business since you started working for them but you tried, time and time again, to convince yourself that they were helping people. It wasn’t until seeing Kate’s reaction that you snapped back to reality.

You didn’t say anything to Javi because you were still upset with him. The night before you two had gotten into an argument bigger than you ever had. You’d come to the end of your line. For the past couple of years, you’d been stuck in a confusing limbo with him. One minute you were making out in bars and staying up until the early hours of the morning talking, and the next he treated you like a co-worker. He was up and down, hot and cold. You had no idea where you stood, and you had gotten so tired of waiting around for him to finally commit. You started to think he never would.

But heaven forbid you get flirted with by a good-looking stranger at the diner you’d all stopped at for dinner. Javi refused to make a move and he tipped-toed around an answer when you asked him what the two of you were doing. But he didn’t like someone else making the move he wouldn’t do. It wasn’t fair. All you wanted to was to know how he felt, but he couldn’t seem to give you that. So, you two argued, hot and angry. You still felt the thick tension cloud the car, with the added anxiety of the people directly in the storm’s path.

You both stayed silent the whole ride, not speaking until you arrived in a town that was alive with sirens and dangerous winds. You had spotted Kate, and Javi was quick to throw the truck into park. You both rushed out, only to find a frantic Kate trying to lift a heavy piece of debris that trapped Tyler’s foot. Javi grabbed the closest thing he could find, stuck it under the piece of debris and you all lifted it enough for Tyler to yank his foot free. He didn’t look too badly injured, or maybe his body was pumping enough adrenaline to keep him upright.

“We’ve gotta find shelter!” Kate yelled above the whirling winds. The nearest building that people rushed into was an old-looking movie theater down the road. There didn’t look to be many obvious safe places in the dated downtown, but the storm was moving fast, and staying outside only worsened their chance of survival.

None of you had a chance to take off anywhere before a horrible creaking sound echoed above the wind. You spun around just as the town’s water tower started to make its way to the ground. A string of curses left your lips, tumbling out of your mouth as the water tower crashed to the Earth, releasing the water in a rush. You tried to run, but the water mixed with the flying debris swept all of you up before you could get far.

The current pulled you harshly before it slammed your body against the front of a building. Pain brushed up your side as you groaned, soaked head to toe from the mixture of rain and rushing water that depleted as it continued down the street.

You coughed, feeling like you were still moving. Everything spun around you, whipping around as you sat on the ground trying to grasp your bearings. It wasn’t until Kate appeared at your side and pulled you to your feet did you rip yourself from your daze. There was no time to think about anything other than getting everyone to safety. The sky was turning darker by the minute and the town had already erupted in chaos.

In your wet clothes, you took off after the group, following the mass of people into the movie theater.

The place had no basement, only scared people confused storm chasers. You were suddenly filled with hopelessness, cold and daunting that crept into your gut. It was bad, really bad, and growing worse by the minute. If the tornado hit the theater, there was a good chance not everyone would make it out alive.

You had no idea what to do, but you saw something flicker in Kate’s eyes, something the boys had missed as they watched the storm out of one of the exits, trying to come up with a plan for all of the people inside. She took off running towards the other exit, and you followed her.

You had only just met Kate, but Javi had told you a lot about her from their college days. He trusted her, and from what you’d seen that week so far, so did you. Maybe it was a reckless move, following an almost stranger outside in the middle of a tornado, but you weren’t thinking rationally, only with the mindset that something had to be done and Kate seemed to know what that was.

It wasn’t until she reached Tyler’s truck that you caught her, grabbing her arm before she swung open the door.

“What are you doing?” she asked, breathlessly. “Please, don’t try to stop me.”

You glanced at the incoming storm, the ominous clouds that held so much destruction within its black, swirling form. “I'm going with you.”

She looked like she wanted to ask why, but there was no time. Instead, she nodded and quickly got into the truck as you followed, hopping into the passenger seat.

Javi had told you of Kate’s original study in school; she wanted to stop a tornado. And it looked like she was going to put it to the test again. She raced through a field, hitting every bump, causing your head to nearly hit the roof of the truck each time.

You had been close to a tornado, closer than most people willingly got, but you’d never been inside of one. Nor had you seen a storm quite like that one. The tornado was massive, a wall of sheer force that knocked into the truck with everything it had, knocking the wind right out of you.

Kate was too determined to be paralyzed by the swirling darkness that surrounded you. She slammed down on the buttons on the center console, but nothing was happening.

“It’s not working,” she cried, trying again and again as her panic swelled. You shuttered, hardly hearing her above the roar of the wind. The truck rocked, unsteady, and you weren’t sure how much force it would be able to take. The size of that tornado wasn't like the kind the Wranglers drove into.

You glanced out the rearview window at the barrels on the trailer that were supposed to release their contents, but the lids remained on. Kate gripped the steering wheel hard as the wind beat against the doors, shaking the truck worse and worse by the second. Her hands shook too, trembling as the tornado continued to engulf you, threatening to chew you two right up and spit you out like it was nothing.

You repeated Kate’s actions with the buttons, hitting them with a silent prayer again and again until finally, the lids all popped open, and their contents were sucked up into the storm.

Both of your relief was short-lived as the storm overpowered the rig. The world blurred before your eyes as the truck was flipped. The passenger side window was shattered as you landed upside down; shards of glass sliced through the skin on your face, but the pain wasn’t felt right away. The only thing you felt was the intense drumming of your heart that beat against your ribs.

You’d felt panic before in a storm, a small drop compared to what you felt at that moment. It was hard to breathe with the world seemingly closing in around you. You didn’t want to die, not like that. But it felt inevitable at that moment. The blood rushing to your head, the shattered glass peppering your skin, and the scream of the twister directly over top of you.

Your mind was on fire, but you tried to find an anchor, something to hold your panic still enough to think straight. Javi came to mind subconsciously. You saw him, his sweet smile and dark eyes. The argument you had was far from your mind. Instead, all you saw was the good stuff. Sneaking out of your motel rooms to watch the stars on clear nights during chases. Him laughing at your jokes no matter how terrible. The way he had memorized your drink order and insisted on buying you them at every bar. Despite his inability to just tell you how he felt, Javi had always been the person you were drawn back to. And you didn’t see that stopping. Maybe it would hurt in the long run, and maybe it was just wishful thinking that he wanted anything deeper than what you had. But he was so intertwined in your life. He was the only person you wanted to share things with, the first person who you had cared about so intimately.

You loved him, you realized. You had pretty shit timing.

Or maybe not.

A hand grasped your arm, sending a wave of pain through your shoulder. You gasped, peeling open your eyes you hadn’t even realized were closed. Turning your head, you saw Kate’s glossy eyes staring back at you, wide but focused. She held her hand hovering over your arm; it was red, and you weren't sure if it was her blood or yours.

“We did it,” she whispered, and you realized you could hear her, easily. The roar of the wind was gone. The storm was just…gone. A smile broke out on her lips as she repeated," We did it!”

There was a nasty cut on her face, blood running down the side of it. Your hands fumbled for your seatbelt and harness, undoing them quickly and trying to maneuver your body so you didn’t land on your head in the overturned truck.

“We’ve got to get the hell out of here,” you breathed out. Kate followed your actions. Shards of glass cut up your hands as you crawled out of the busted window, slowly and pained. You clawed at the mud, never having felt so grateful for the feeling of the earth under your fingers.

You only managed to get your upper half out of the truck before someone grabbed your arms. Looking up, you met Javi’s panicked gaze. He held onto your arms tightly, breathing heavily and rain-soaked. He helped you the rest of the way out and pulled you to your feet. The world still spun a little, and you swayed, disoriented. He didn’t let go of you, keeping his hands firmly on your shoulders. It looked like his mouth was moving, but the sudden movement of standing hurt your head.

It took a couple of moments before his voice cut through the pounding in your head. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed thickly, achy and definitely bruised. But you were alive and that was a lot better than you’d thought you be a minute ago. “I-I think so.”

He sighed in relief before his expression shifted into something unreadable. With his hands still on your shoulders, he shook you, gently but enough to get his point across. “What is wrong with you?!” Javi raised his voice too. “What the hell were you thinking? You could have died! Seriously, what-”

You cut him off by shoving him hard enough for him to drop his hold on your shoulders. The revelation you just had slipped back to the back burner and the fight you had the night before stood front and center.

“Are you seriously yelling at me right now?” you bit back.

“Yes!” He threw his hands up in the air as if to say ‘obviously.’ “I thought you died! You can’t do shit like that! You can’t just leave in the middle of a goodman storm and not tell me!”

A scoff fell from your lips. Your whole body throbbed in a dull pain, momentarily overshadowed by the adrenaline pumping through your veins. “Why do you care?” you shouted back; your words were coated in hurt that you’d been too angry to express during your fight the night before. You hadn’t said all that you wanted, but it bubbled to the surface and mixed with the flush of emotions you felt in the middle of the storm for Javi.

He looked offended by your words. “I care because…because you’re you! And if something happened to you I-I…” he trailed off, caught on his words.

You were sure if the wetness on your face was fresh tears, blood seeping from the little cuts, or leftover tears from your near-death experience. Too many things were spiraling around you, even though the storm had stopped.

“You still can’t do it.” Your chest hurt like someone had reached inside and sank their nails into your heart. “You still can’t tell me how you feel.”

Wiping your cheeks, you stumbled backward, on the verge of crying. But before you could walk away, he caught your wrist, spinning you around to face him.

“I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,” he admitted, blurting out with so much emotion it was dizzying. You were sure you'd never seen him look like that, scared yet brave. “If you died and I never got to tell you…” He took a breath, sliding his hand down your wrist and into your hand. “Tell you that I love you.”

For a moment, you weren’t sure you had heard him right. You blinked, silently staring for a moment. You’d hit your head more than once and everything was still a little off as you came back down from the tornado.

“You what?”

“I love you,” he said, that time without hesitation. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

You smiled, bright and relieved. You hastily grasped the side of his face before pulling him toward you in a sweet but desperate kiss. That kiss was different than it had been before, in the darkened corners of country bars. The kiss was full of pent-up emotions and unsaid words finally spilled.

Pulling apart, you rested your forehead against his, laughing lightly at the absurdity of it all. You still felt like you were spinning.

Someone behind you both cleared their throat and you felt your face get hot at the raised brows of Tyler and Kate. “Sorry,” you said, feeling giddy and still a little woozy.

“Don’t be,” Tyler replied. “That was beautiful.” Kate rolled her eyes and smacked his arm.

“Let’s get out of here,” Kate said before she and Tyler led the way back to town.

You and Javi lingered for a moment longer, your hands intertwined. “I love you too,” you said, earning a toothy grin from him. He slung his arm around your shoulder, careful to avoid the little bumps and scarps you’d accumulated over the course of the storm, and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

#twisters #twisters 2024 #javi twisters #javi twisters x reader #javi x reader #javi x you #anthony ramos #anthony ramos x reader #twisters fanfic #tyler owens #kate carter

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withleeknow · 8 months ago

Text

wishful thinking. (7.5)

chapter 7.5: limbo

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; minho's pov; non-explicit smut, kissing, grinding, implied unprotected sex; alcohol consumption, non-linear storytelling (jumps around a few random scenes before we get back to the present that picks up from the end of chapter 7), cursing, the final line :-?; not that unedited i am so so sorry lol word count: 5.6k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Wishing fountains, we pray for change in the dark Moving mountains, we end up right where we start The world’s not falling apart But you and I, baby we are

Wishing Fountains - Bad Suns

“What does it say?” Minho asks.

You sigh, your eyes trailing the words on the small piece of paper in your hands before you shove one half of the fortune cookie in your mouth. It seems dry; you look like you can barely swallow it.

“Bullshit,” you say simply, a little bitter before you hide behind a mask of indifference, turning to him as you ask, “Yours?”

He breaks his own fortune cookie in half, pulling out a similar piece of paper that reads, “‘Jeg elsker deg’ means ‘I love you’ in Norwegian.”

You're both lying on a fluffy rug on the floor of your bedroom, with an empty bottle of rosé sitting somewhere near your head. “That’s... random,” you say, casting your eyes to the ceiling. “But I mean, at least it’s kind of educational. Now you know a phrase in Norwegian.”

“Sure,” Minho laughs, testing out the syllables in his mouth and butchering them in the process. “Who would I even say it to?”

“Impress your future girlfriend with your worldly knowledge. Or say it to Hyunjin, I’m sure he’ll swoon and blush like a schoolgirl.”

“That’s the last thing I want. He’s already clingy enough as it is.”

“Alright. Well, your loss then.”

He only hums in response. “You’re really not gonna tell me what yours is?”

“I told you. It’s bullshit.”

“Wanna tell me why the fortune cookie is evil at least? I’ll fight it for you.”

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder with a playful scoff. “It just got me thinking, that’s all.”

“About what?”

It takes a minute for you to gather your thoughts into one semi-cohesive pile.

“Just… reminds me how I don’t really fit into anyone’s life,” you start, your voice coming out a little small and timid before you seem to let the alcohol give you enough confidence to say what you want. “I don’t feel like I’m worth anyone’s time. Everyone’s going to outgrow me eventually, if they haven’t already. Their lives will only get bigger and bigger, and they’ll have to leave me behind at some point. All that space but none for me.

“I think I’ll be stuck like this forever, in this fucking… limbo. And I know it’s dramatic because we’re still young and we’ve got our whole lives in front of us and whatever else that people say. But it feels like wherever I go and whatever I do, my life will always be this small while you all move on. Chan and Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, Felix, even Hyunjin and Jisung when they’re not too busy being idiots. Everyone’s got everything all planned out, and they have other things to fall back on if those plans don’t work out. If I fall, I think I’ll just keep falling until I hit rock bottom.

“And you… you’re gonna do great things too. You’re gonna live your life and it’s going to be a good one, and you’ll forget about me too. A few years from now, when everyone’s already moved on, I’ll just be a girl that you used to know. I’m just a stop along the way.”

Then you pause, and the laugh you let out afterward is choked up and not at all sincere. You rub your hands down your face, groaning a little when you say, “Ugh, that was depressing. Sorry, it’s the wine. Forget I said anything.”

You have beautiful eyes, that’s what Minho has always thought, the kind that holds all the universe’s sparkles and all its sadness too, a bittersweet balance. The kind that makes one want to stop and admire for a while. He loves when they light up before the joy gradually spreads across your face, like watching the sun peak over the horizon before it colors the sky with ethereal pinks and purples and blues. You’re a wonderful sunrise, his favorite part of every day.

He even loves your faraway gaze when you’re here but you’re elsewhere simultaneously, hiding in your eyes musings that are privy to nobody else. You’d stare into the distance and he’d watch you the whole time, wondering if any of the thoughts that occupy your mind are about him.

Minho has an urge to take you into his arms and hold you tight and tell you that everything’s going to be okay. That no one’s going to forget about you because you’re not someone who can be forgotten so easily, let alone be forgotten by him. That he isn’t going anywhere if it’s not by your side, that he wants to be in your life until you decide you’re sick of him, not the other way around.

He wants to tell you he loves you because that’s the truth. He was gone the minute he saw you at that stupid party years ago when you had walked in shyly with Chan and Jess. You had tried to make yourself smaller in a roomful of strangers, but you’ve always been the only one Minho could find in a crowd.

Years and years from now, when he thinks back to his youth, the highlight reel that will pop up in his mind will be of his idiot friends and the good memories they’ve shared with one another. How they laughed and cried, how they fell and got back up together time and time again.

And at the center of it all will be you. Green grass, blue skies, his golden days and you, the focal point of his youth.

He loves you. Would it help, or would it scare you?

He doesn’t let himself debate that question for long. Regardless of what the answer is, now isn’t the right time. So instead, he says, “For what it’s worth, everyone’s just taking it one day at a time, even if they seem like they have it all planned out. You’re not falling behind. You’re going at your own pace, who cares about other people?”

You turn your head to stare at him, your cheeks flushed with a rosy tint from the wine you had shared and a pensive look on your face. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, but he holds your gaze anyway.

“And I can’t speak for anyone else, but you’ll always have me. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

A quiet moment passes. If Minho focuses hard enough, he thinks he might be able to hear the faint beats of your heart.

His gaze flickers to your lips for barely a second before it returns to your eyes, quick enough for it to escape your notice.

Then, you’re holding yourself up on one elbow and shuffling into his orbit until you’re right by his side. He doesn’t move a single inch; he only watches as you get closer, and closer, and closer until there’s no more space between the two of you. He blinks, and in that split second he misses the way you let your eyes shut as you lean down to press your lips to his.

He’s surprised, but pleasantly so.

You taste like rosé, like something he’s always known that he wants to chase.

It stuns him enough that he forgets to respond, his mind focused solely on the feeling of your soft lips on him, the scent of your jasmine perfume and how you’re so warm pressed against him like this.

Maybe it’s the stillness of his body that shocks you out of it, because you pull away after a few seconds with an instant look of mortification in your eyes, trying to scramble back to your original spot on the rug like you’ve just committed an unspeakable sin. Running away, he thinks, is your first instinct.

But Minho is just a tad quicker than you are. He doesn’t let you stray very far when he props himself up to cup your face with one hand and bring you back to him.

He’s kissing you again and for a brief moment, he feels like he could die.

You don’t break from him this time. Instead, you’re kissing him back just as deeply. You let him lower you back to the floor as he holds himself up above you, his tongue slipping past the seal of your lips while his thumb strokes your cheek softly, keeping you there in his loose hold so you could still run if that’s what you want to do.

But you stay with him, your hands trailing up the expanse of his chest to find purchase on his shoulders, your legs parting so he could perfectly slot himself into the space that you’ve allowed him.

When he rocks his hips into you experimentally, you bite on his bottom lip, a whining sound from your throat comes out muffled against his mouth.

He strays just long enough and far enough so he could look into your eyes, with your pupils blown much darker than they had been at the start of the evening.

He says your name, the gentlest sound in the world, then a question. “What do you want?”

Minho half expects you to overthink your answer and come back to your senses, to choose flight because it would be the easier option.

But you don’t. There’s a dazed look in your eyes as you lock onto him, and there’s something underneath the pool of lust in your gaze that leaves him breathless and wondering.

“You,” you say quietly, “I want you.”

And it’s with this simple answer that you pull him back to you again, not the other way around. You kiss him more fervently than before if that’s even possible. When he slides his arm around your waist, you let him pick you up to cross the few steps it takes to get to your bed, his lips never leaving you even after he has laid you onto the mattress. They follow the path where your jawline leads down to your neck, then where your neck meets your collarbone, and he savors every little whimper that you make for him even though he’s barely touched you yet. There’s hardly any patch of skin that he leaves unkissed, and when he reaches where your shirt begins to hide the rest of you from him, he only looks up at you, quietly asking for more permission.

You don’t give him a verbal answer. You take matters into your own hands, lifting your top over your head and flinging it somewhere on the floor.

Then your bra follows to join your shirt, wherever it may be. Minho assumes they’ve landed on the bottle of rosé, only guessing by the sound of the glass being knocked over and rolling around. He’s not sure but he doesn’t care about it enough to look, not when he’s got you right here under him, so beautiful and so willing that it makes his head spin.

He’s imagined this before, just a few times whenever he's drunk enough to let his mind wander without the guilt that comes with it when he’s sober. He has wondered before what it would feel like to kiss you breathless and have you kiss him back, to touch you in ways that no one else ever has, to taste how sweet you are and feel your warmth. None of it is appropriate, not at all platonic. He’s well aware of it.

It's been years, ever since Minho met you at that party when he was 19 and you had been too awkward to start a conversation. Years of walking with you in the rain after class, sharing umbrellas that are too small to shield the both of you but it’s okay, because he doesn’t mind leaving half of his body exposed to the harsh weather as long as the rain doesn’t get on you. Years of making sure you get home safely after nights out with your friends, years of insisting that he sees you walk inside your building and up to your floor whether it's 11PM or 4:30AM. Years of lingering glances, of pretending he isn’t bothered whenever Felix offers to introduce you to someone, of smiles sent your way that are far too endeared to mean nothing at all.

Years of loving you in silence because he’s your friend first and foremost, and his friendship with you means more to him than the feelings he has for you.

And yet...

He’s here in your bed, watching you with mesmerized eyes as you take off the rest of your clothes before helping him discard his, as you kiss him just as deeply as he’s wanted to kiss you for the longest time, as you keep pulling him into you even when he’s already as close to you as humanly possible. His lips on yours, his heart pressed against the other side of yours. His fingers intertwined with yours when he slips inside of you, and how your hands stay interlocked the entire time you’re wrapped together. You cling to him so tightly, as though it would hurt you if he were to ever let go.

It’s the way you look at him, like he’s the only person that exists in your universe. It’s the broken moans that you give him, the nonsense babbles that make his chest swell with pride at the knowledge that he’s making you feel so good that the only thing you know how to say coherently is his name. It’s the heaven between your thighs, absolutely divine and infinitely better than any fantasy that he could ever let himself indulge in.

Just for tonight, Minho can pretend that you're his, even though he knows that he’s already been yours since the first time you met. He’s been yours for as long as he can remember, even if you don’t know it yet.

Later on, when he’s collapsed next to you on the bed, there’s a safe distance between your tired bodies and a certain tension in the air that’s heavy with the consequences of your actions. When he takes your hand, the one that’s shaking as you grip the sheets between your fingers, it alleviates some of that anxiety.

“The fortune cookie, what did it say?” he asks, like you’re simply continuing the conversation from before.

You let out a nervous chuckle. “Seriously?”

He gives you a lopsided smile, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Seriously.”

You purse your lips as you look at him for another second before you cast your eyes to the ceiling again, like you’d done just an hour ago. “It said ‘You’ll be loved.’”

You are, he thinks to himself. You’re loved.

“Open wide.”

You give him a look, to which he only responds with a shrug and a sly grin.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you say, but you take the spoonful of chicken soup that he offers you anyway. You can’t focus on the taste but it’s warm and the relief you feel is instant when it soothes your throat.

You’ve practically been on bedrest for the past three days, slowly rotting away in your apartment with a bad strain of the seasonal flu until Minho came over and unleashed his inner mama bear on you. Now here you are, wrapped up like a burrito on the couch (Minho insisted; he wouldn’t have it any other way) while he spoon feeds you homemade chicken soup.

You were stubborn about it at first, as one could probably imagine. When you told the group chat that you wouldn’t make it to movie night at Chan’s place last weekend, you were adamant that you would be able to sleep it off and bounce back in no time, despite Minho offering to make you some food and bring over some meds and cough drops.

The symptoms worsened overnight though, and you developed a fever along with a cough that’s worse than any you’ve ever experienced. When Minho called you to make sure you were still alive, you could barely even speak.

He hates your cavalier attitude when it comes to taking care of yourself. He hates himself even more for believing in your nonchalance and not bulldozing his way over sooner.

“I’m enjoying this because I was right,” he says, feeding you more of the soup. “I told you instant ramyeon wouldn’t cure you.”

He lets his I told you so triumph go easily, even though he suspects that you have much more to bite back at him if you could get through half a sentence without wanting to hack your lungs out. You make a noise, and he isn’t really sure if it’s one of agreement or protest but it’s most likely the latter. He thinks it’s cute that you close your eyes after every spoonful, lazily eating like one of his cats back home whenever they’ve run out of energy. You’re probably tired and can’t wait to get into bed.

When the soup is finished, Minho fetches you your meds and a glass of warm water. He doesn’t know if the scrunched up face you make after every pill is because you hate the bitter taste or if the tablets keep dragging against your already sensitive throat on their way down, but he strokes your hair all the while you wash it down with water, a gentle hand on your head as if to say You’re doing well.

He tucks you in bed not long after, despite your weak protests as he carries you to your bedroom.

“Oh my god,” you had managed to croak out. “I’m not that helpless.”

“I know,” came his response and a teasing smile. “Just let me take care of you for once.”

You’re pliant once you’re laid gently on the mattress though, idly watching Minho as he wraps the duvet around your shoulders and fluffs your pillows just the way you like. This is awfully domestic, he notes, and he can’t help but lean down and press a kiss to your forehead, not when he’s absolutely endeared by the way your tired eyes try to keep themselves open just so you could look at him.

When his lips leave your warm skin, he thinks he might’ve imagined the blush that colors your cheeks.

But he blinks, and you’re still flushed, your lips slightly parted as you stare at him, mild surprise evident in your drowsy gaze.

Something passes over the two of you, a kind of silence that he isn’t accustomed to when he’s with you. It isn’t bad, it’s just… strange.

One beat, then another. “Want me to stay with you?” he asks.

He knows you’d say no, and yet he can’t help the disappointment when you tell him, “You don’t have to. Go home, Min. Thanks for taking care of me today.”

“You sure? I can take the couch. It’s fine.”

“I’m sure. Chan and Jess said they’re coming to check on me in the morning.”

Minho lets out a hum, and purses his lips.

“What?” you ask.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you look like you want to.”

“Just… y’know,” he starts, gauging your reaction all the while, for any signs of physical discomfort or otherwise, “I like you like this. You’re not hiding when you’re like this.”

“You like me frail and on the verge of death?”

He rolls his eyes, pretends to flick at your forehead. “You know what I mean.”

When you giggle, it’s immediately followed by a wince, like the movement is hurting your sensitive throat. “Do I hide when I’m with you?”

“Sometimes.” He moves his hand to caress your face, gentle fingertips tracing the apple of your cheek. Surprisingly, you let him, if only for a little while. “It feels like you’re always ready to leave.”

“Are you worried I’m gonna run away?” you ask, covering your hand over his to move it away, but you still let his touch linger when you only lower his hand to your neck, where he starts twiddling your hair between his fingers. It feels like you want him close, close enough that it matters, close in a way that still lets you have control over how it matters. “I physically can’t. I’m sick.”

“Does that mean you’ll run away when you get better?”

You seem to ponder the question for a moment. You’re holding onto his wrist and Minho is almost certain that you can feel his pulse. He would do so many things for you if only you’d let him.

When you answer him, you keep things light but your tone is soft, gentle in a way that tells him your sentiment means more than the words you cherry pick on the surface.

“No, I have finals in two weeks.”

The first time that Minho gets to wake up next to you, nothing feels real. Not the pleasant scent of your shampoo greeting him the minute he opens his eyes, not your soft breath fanning his bare collarbone where you lay with your head tucked into the crook of his neck, not even the feeling of you in his arms, safe and warm, as though this is where you’re meant to be. None of it seems like anything other than a dream.

When memories of the previous night come rushing to the surface, it also brings back the annoyance he felt watching Yeonjun openly flirt with you at the party, and the bitter feeling that accompanied the reminder that Minho couldn’t even really do anything about it but stand idly by.

But you stir in his arms, and all of the annoyance and bitterness goes away. Because you’re here with him and not anybody else. There’s a certain ego boost knowing that he’s the one you kiss, the only one you allow in your most personal space. To know you is a privilege, and it’s one that you grant no one else but him.

Last night, something happened. Something changed, he felt it when you were the one who asked him to stay. You let him put his shirt on you, let him hold you as you slept, even welcomed his embrace and snuggled further into his body in a way that you’ve never done before.

How you kissed him just hours prior, how you looked at him… God, he thinks he could just spill all of his secrets if you did it again.

But when you open your eyes, Minho is already pretending to be asleep again. How would you react? He’s curious to know. Would you scramble away the second the realization kicks in that you let him break your rule? Would you leave his side and act all nonchalant about it when you inevitably have to face each other later? He’s willing to bet that you would.

But you surprise him again. He feels you watching him for a moment, then your touch ghosts upon his features. It almost makes him falter in his act, your gentle fingers tracing his temple, his cheekbones, the slope of his nose down to his lips. There’s a sigh that you exhale, and he misses your touch the very second it leaves his skin. He itches to bring you closer to him again.

So that’s what he does. Minho keeps the facade going, pretending like he’s now just waking up with his limbs stretching out. You stiffen when he hugs you tighter, but you soon relax after he starts stroking your hair.

Nothing has changed for him, but can you say the same?

“Dude!”

Minho flinches into action when a voice calls his name right by the car window, loud enough to startle him even through the thick layer of glass. When he turns his head, he finds Changbin’s face all pressed up against the window, struggling to hold three bags full of supplies that are threatening to spill out. “Help me with these!” his friend says.

It’s the week of Jisung, Felix and Seungmin’s birthdays; you lot tends to go all out for the quadruple birthday bash every year (Chan’s birthday is only 11 days later after all). Seungmin’s family has a lakeside cabin a couple hours from the city, that’s where everyone goes to unwind for a long weekend with plenty of food and even more drinks. This year, it’s no different.

Minho and Changbin are on drinks duty, tasked with picking up all of the alcohol and refreshments for the weekend ahead. He doesn’t really know what the rest are doing, just that you and Jeongin are babysitting Hyunjin to make sure the latter doesn’t deviate from the proposed budget and go way overboard when getting snacks and decorations. You sent Minho a text a while ago, a video of you facepalming and rolling your eyes before you flip the camera over to show Hyunjin and Jeongin bickering like children over a mega pack of chips.

Once everything is in the car – cases of beer safely loaded into the trunk, bottles of water and soft drinks set in their designated plastic bags in the backseat, Changbin comments from the driver’s seat, “You looked weird. You were smiling.”

Minho only stares at him for a moment, a neutral expression on his face as he blinks those typical Minho blinks, before he turns his head to the other side to lean against the window.

He was thinking about the first time your tradition started, the first year Jess had to drag you on the trip. She used to do it often; you were shy in the beginning.

He’s got a favorite memory of you, and it wasn’t you and him sitting together on the bank of the river during the sunset, while the others were in the water, splashing around and having the time of your lives (you two were the only ones who couldn’t swim, but it was okay, you didn’t feel like you missed out on anything because at least you had each other).

His favorite memory of you wasn’t running into you in the middle of the night when he went into the kitchen for some water and you were out by yourself on the adjacent balcony, sitting with your chin resting on your folded knees and the crescent moon for company. He stayed there for a moment, dazed, wondering if he was still dreaming or if it was just you. When Minho finally made his presence known, you told him you couldn’t sleep and he suggested that you break into Hyunjin’s secret ramyeon stash, because going to bed with a full stomach always made him feel better whenever he was restless. 1:58AM, you ended up almost burning your hand on the stove, too busy trying to keep your giggles down when he made a stupid joke.

Minho’s favorite memory wasn’t of you falling asleep on his shoulder on the drive back either, with you squished in the backseat between him and Felix, and your light snores reminded him of Soonie whenever the cat would doze off on his chest. It wasn’t any of these moments, even though he thinks he might’ve loved you in every instance.

His favorite memory of you was the evening before that trip had to come to an end, the last night you all spent together before you had to leave your safe little bubble. It was after dinner and some drinks, everyone was buzzed and the air was crisp, chilly every now and then. When you were gathered on the dock overlooking the lake, each holding a sparkler that Jisung had prepared, you were laughing. Everyone else was laughing too, but yours was the only sound Minho could focus on.

“Be quiet. I’m gonna take a nap,” he tells Changbin, ignoring the comment entirely as he closes his eyes. “Wake me when we get to Chan’s.”

The lights, and your friends, and the moon hanging high up in the sky like a guardian angel back then.

You were watching how it all reflected so beautifully in the rippling waters below. He was watching you.

“You really don’t see it, do you?”

His question hangs in the awful silence as you stare at him. Minho can see your nails digging into your palms where your fists are clenched, your glassy eyes and the frown between your brows, like you’re trying your hardest to hold back tears. Why else would you be so upset?

He’s known about it for a while, or at the very least, he’s had an inkling of how you feel about him. He knows he isn’t in over his head when he says there’s a certain glow that radiates from within you when you’re together, a side of you that’s tender and at peace, one that he’s never seen you show anyone else. The way you look at him, it’s the same way that he looks at you even if you don’t realize it yet, or maybe you just don’t want to admit it out loud.

It hasn’t been one sided for at least some time now, he knows it.

But it’s frustrating to watch you try so hard to fight it. He’s the only one holding on, and you’ve been willing to let go at every turn.

“See what?” you challenge.

This isn’t how he planned to ever say these words, but the moment is here whether he likes it or not. It’s staring at you both in the face even if you are doing your best to hide from it.

Minho holds your gaze for a few seconds before he steps toward you again. This time, you stand your ground.

“You asked me if things changed for me and I said no. That was the truth, I never lied to you. We’re friends but that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen you as something more from the beginning.”

He pauses there, watches your eyes and how you take it in. They soften a little, filling up some more as you process his words. There’s surprise in the look that you wear, sure. A little confusion, yes. But most of all, you just look sad. When you call out his name, he can tell by your tone that it’s a warning, that you’re about to run away for real this time if he presses on, and yet he can’t stop until he says his piece.

“If you want me to spell it out for you, I’ve had feelings for you since we first met. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t remember what it feels like not to love you, and it drives me crazy that you don’t see any of it. The thing that makes me even crazier, do you know what it is? I think you feel something for me too, but you won’t admit it to yourself and you always resort to shutting down instead of facing your feelings. How much longer are you going to run away from me?”

When the first tear unintentionally spills over from the corner of your eye, Minho knows he’s struck a nerve. He wants to reach out and wipe away the tiny stream that rolls down your face but you beat him to it, wiping at your cheek in angry motions.

“You’re wrong.” Your voice is tight when you tell him, “I don’t have feelings for you.” It’s the only thing that you address.

Sometimes, he searches for your answer at the bottom of a glass, or on the other end of looks that seem to linger just a beat too long. But as he’s standing here, right now, he finds it in your hesitation to speak, in the lie you give him when you finally do.

It’s the answer he’s always wanted and yet, the knowledge brings him no satisfaction at all. It only lodges a lump in his throat, an overwhelming sense of dejection when he sees how hard you’re trying to fight this.

“I know you,” he sighs after a moment, a little defeated. “I know when you’re lying.”

“Maybe you don’t know me that well after all.”

You’re stubborn. You’ve always been stubborn.

Minho takes another step forward. It feels like it’s a step closer to the end as you both know it, because how else is your relationship going to come back from this? He sees the slight shake in your shoulders that you try to suppress, but he’ll always be the one to notice.

“Tell me you don’t love me,” he says quietly, his final resort. A challenge but it sounds an awful lot like a plea. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible that things can take a turn for the worse in just two weeks’ time. The last time you both were here, you’d kissed his endeared smile and held him so impossibly close to you. Now, everything is falling apart, the seams coming undone one by one. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”

Minho meant what he said, about how loving you drives him crazy sometimes. Even when you’re breaking his heart, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. A noticeable sting settles in between the cracks of his ribcage at the sight of your quivering bottom lip, your balled up fists and his own reflection in your glassy eyes.

“Do you want me to say it so badly?” you ask, and he can only stare at you when your voice comes out harsher than it was before, though it cracks toward the end as you try to keep up with the facade. “Fine, I’ll say it.”

It’s not what he asked, but it’s confirmation nonetheless. It’s acceptance but not how he wants it to be. Acceptance that you do love him, and yet, you say it in a way that he’s never expected to hear from you.

“I don’t want to love you.”

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ilium-ilia · 2 months ago

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In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Four: push him away

tw: violence, blood, vomit

Your life has become nothing but a game of numbers.

It’s a grueling game. One that deals in quantitative facts that reminds you of its indifference towards your feelings and needs as you scribble your thoughts and desperate math into your journal. You’ve gotten very good at mental math over the years. Between calculating hours, wages, taxes, overtime… Every day that you live is planned to perfection to make sure you can survive throughout the month. There isn’t a single pence not accounted for, nor pound that goes to waste.

After completing all your math—multiplication, division, subtraction, subtraction—you calculate the expenses you need to keep yourself alive. Paying your rent keeps you alive. Getting Marco his money on time keeps you alive. After everything, you are left with £79 in your checking account.

You draw an angry circle around your final number before tossing the journal back onto the mattress. How you’re going to pay for groceries is beyond you, let alone anything else this month. Your teeth nearly draw blood as you bite into your cheek at the thought of using your credit cards and the debt that’s already wracked up on them.

You work like a dog, just to live off of scraps.

A sigh dances between your lips as you give your hand a break from writing by tossing your pen next to your journal. You’ve been sitting in bed for what feels like hours. Crunching numbers, setting timelines—the effects begin to ravage your lower back and wrist with a pestilential ache that refuses to relent even as you rub it.

As your head rests against the wall behind you, you take a deep breath of the fresh air seeping through your open window. It’s always chilly in November, but you go insane being kooked up in the small confines of your studio apartment. Opening your window is the only bit of freedom you can pretend to have without having to put yourself in the eyes of the public. Your teeth sink into your lip as you glance back at your notepad.

Two weeks. That’s all you have left until the 25th.

A quiet curse cuts through the silence in your apartment as Simon’s knuckles scrape against the sink spout for what sounds like the tenth time this morning. Several parts lay dismantled and gutted on the counter next to him, along with a various assortment of tools. He scrubs the parts clean with a solvent that leaves the room smelling like vinegar, testing them bit by bit to ensure that they fit together better than they did before.

You hadn’t expected to need him so soon. At the very least, you wanted to wait to call him until you had a bit more money in the bank, but your sink seemed to destroy itself overnight. No longer a soft drip, it turned into a steady flow that gushed more water than you knew you could afford. When you sheepishly messaged him earlier in the morning, he left almost immediately in order to buy the right materials.

And now, here you are again, stuck with Simon Riley.

Bee’s words from the other night ring loudly in your mind. You sure know how to pull them. It’s laughable how she thinks you’re able to attract people as if Simon sees you as something more than a pathetic animal that doesn’t know how to care for herself. Though, you can’t exactly disagree with her. For all his rough edges, he’s an attractive man. Quiet, and polite—kinder than his appearance alone would have you believe. Still, that’s as far as you would ever go. Looking. Admiring from afar. Keeping your distance. Distance is good—it keeps you safe.

Keeps everyone safe.

Besides, you’re not sure if intimacy is something that’s meant for you. Every time you think of a hand on your waist or hot breath on your face, your body tenses so much you can feel it trying to rip itself to shreds. The thought of someone’s lips on yours makes you want to scream. The bile in your stomach starts to churn—it’s that hand. His hand. Sliding between your thighs, inside of your skirt, going up, and up—

“There we are.”

Simon’s voice yanks you out of your anamneses, violently snapping you back into the present. Swallowing, you pull your blanket tight around your shoulders as you slide out of your bed and tip toe into the kitchen behind him. Water no longer drips out of the spout, and it now sits as the shiniest item in your apartment. A smile pulls at your lips; you’re grateful to no longer have something quite literally siphoning your finances.

“Should be set now,” Simon explains as he cleans up the old, calcified hardware from your counter. He tosses the discarded metal into your trash where it falls with a heavy thunk. “Anythin’ else need fixing?”

“No, nothing else is broken, For now,” you say in an attempt at humor.

But there is one issue left: payment.

“Thank you again, Simon. I, uh, don’t really have the money to pay you for it, but I can… maybe comp another meal for you tonight, if you’d like?” you offer.

“It’s no problem,” Simon hums as he rinses his hands clean. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m workin’ tonight anyway.”

This… is not how the conversation is supposed to go. He seemed more than happy to accept free food last time, yet now he’s making it seem like you don’t need to pay him back at all. Of course you have to pay him back. That’s how the world works. It’s how everything works. You cannot take without giving—it’s an equal exchange.

If he doesn’t want anything from you now, he’s going to want something later.

“I can drop it off tonight at the club,” you insist, desperate to finally be rid of him. “I’m sure you get hungry at work, and I know for a fact the food there is terrible.”

Simon hums as he shakes his hands off. He borrows the kitchen towel hanging from the oven to dry his hands as he leans against the counter, tilting his head at you with a shrug. “The chips aren’t that bad.”

You look him up and down before raising an eyebrow. It’s a silent question—no, a protest—you know for a fact that a small serving of chips isn’t enough for a man his size.

“Text me what you want, and I’ll bring it after I’m off tonight,” you repeat, tone all but begging for him to accept.

Twilit eyes study you like you’re a specimen. Simon’s gaze feels like he’s pinning you to some examination board with your legs and arms splayed out. You’re on full display, chest and stomach waiting to be cut into—beating heart visible through your ribs. All he’s missing is the lab coat and scalpel to rip you open.

“Alright,” he finally concedes. “See you tonight, sweetheart.”

Work goes by fast. Too fast. It’s busy, which is to be expected of a Saturday, but this is outrageous. Between the takeout orders and the endless wave of patrons, it’s impossible for you to take any sort of breather. The aroma of fresh bread and cheeses soaks so deeply into the fabric of your being that you’re certain you’ll have to scrub yourself in the shower for hours in order to rid yourself of the scent. Worn shoes offer no support to your aching feet, and by the time you’re finally able to lock the door at midnight, you swear your heels are bleeding.

Really, you should be thanking the universe for this—a blessing in disguise. A busy day means busy hands, and busy hands mean you don’t have to think about the notification waiting for you on your phone, or the meal you’ll have to deliver soon.

Yet, your phone is the very first thing you reach for the moment you’re able to sit. One of the waiters sits huddled up in the booth across from you, rolling silverware for tomorrow’s service. The clinking hits too dull on your ears, but you ignore it as you unlock your phone.

Order whatever you want for tonight. Not picky. Come through the VIP entrance. I’ll wait for you.

Simon’s message came in a while ago. Just before eleven. He’s been waiting for nearly an hour and a half for you to respond, and it’ll be much later by the time you finally get it to him. Groaning, you cup your face in the palm of your hands. You should have waited until he had a day off so he could have come in rather than have you deliver—your need to push things out of the way is coming back to bite you in the ass.

sorry, it’s been a long night. should be there before one!

“Chip!”

Your eyes dart away from your phone just in time to see Bee waving at you from the kitchen entrance. Her ponytail is mussed from a night of busy service, yet her beauty is still effortless and captivating as large, sunflower-shaped earrings swing above her shoulders.

“Bruce is gonna close up soon. Want anything?” she calls.

“Uh, yeah. Just an order of capellini pomodoro. With chicken please!” you shout back.

Instead of answering you, she gives you a thumbs up where she shouts your order at the kitchen in Italian. Bruce’s sonorous voice yells back, followed by laughter.

It’s an easy meal. Something quick. Your usual go-to dish whenever Bruce demands that you let him feed you, which is quite often. You swear he has some sort of sixth sense that can detect when you’re trying to skip meals to save cash.

A sharp buzz from your phone pulls your attention back down to your lap. Its screen illuminates with the preview of Simon’s response.

Take your time, sweetheart.

“Christ…” you mumble to yourself.

You wish he wasn’t so kind. It would be easier to push him away if he was as cruel as everything else in your life is.

It’s an awkward ride on the bus. Warmth seeps into your lap through the thin, styrofoam takeout box that holds Simon’s dinner as the world passes by you in a blur through shiny windows. There are two other women on the bus with you—you feel guilty for being grateful at the lack of men. Everyone avoids eye contact with one another as a woman in scrubs types away furiously at her phone, and a woman who looks two seconds away from puking rests her head against the cold window.

All three of you exist simultaneously, yet so separate from one another. For once, a part of you is glad that you’re not alone.

You lugubriously exit the bus as it comes to your stop and stare at the intimidating building a few meters down. While the inside is lit plenty well, you can’t say the same thing for the outside. Shrouded in a thick numbra, lights can hardly cut through the darkness far enough to properly illuminate the pavement in front of the main entrance. You feel your muscles begin to twitch. It’s one thing coming to Terminus when you have Aelin dragging you around, but it’s something else entirely when you know you’ll have to navigate the area all by yourself.

Styrofoam squeaks as you grip the box in your hand and traverse down the frigid pavement. The air cuts right through your work clothes, and not even zipping your jumper offers any reprieve. You find comfort in knowing it’s a short walk—the bouncers hanging around the front entrance are already within sight.

“Excuse me!” you call.

The duo of men crowded at the entrance seem to be in the middle of a smoke break when you interrupt them, and they look at you with narrowed, unentertained eyes. They stand at the top of the steps leading up to the entrance, making you feel impossibly small as they scrutinize you. You’re just some bug on the pavement.

“I’m, uh, looking for the VIP entrance? I’m supposed to meet Simon?” you say.

“You askin’ or tellin’ us?” one of the men barks over the cigarette stuck between his teeth.

Every word you speak is so fragile you feel them shatter on the ground at your feet. You’re beginning to second guess asking for help. Twitchy fingers yearn to reach for your phone—calling him would have been easier. No, you just need to grit your teeth and bare it. Once this is done, you don’t owe him anymore, and you’ll never have to see him again.

“Sorry,” you try again. “It’s just that, I’m supposed to bring Simon dinner tonight, I just need help finding the entrance.”

“Sorry love, dunno a Simon.”

You raise an eyebrow at the man as your confusion strangles out the anxiety gripping your chest. “Doesn’t he… like, work security with you?”

The other man slaps the smoker on the arm—something playful and childish—before he rolls his eyes. “She’s talking about Riley you pillock.”

Terrible realization washes over the smoker’s face, and he quickly flicks his cigarette onto the ground. It sputters and dies in a little wisp underneath the sole of his boot.

“Shit, of course,” he says, a silent apology soaking his words. He points a finger toward your right, guiding you along the darkness of the building. “VIP entrance, yeah? Just head that way and make a left before the alleyway.”

It’s not the easiest set of instructions to follow, but you don’t dare ask for clarification. Instead, you mutter a quiet thanks and goodnight before trudging down the pavement. The only thing keeping you warm is the food in your hands, but the night air is sapping its heat faster than you had anticipated. You try not to think about it too heavily as the main lights of the building grow more faint with each step.

Just as instructed, you make a left turn into the area you assume is the VIP entrance, yet you very quickly find yourself in the alley you were told to turn before. It’s a simple fix. Turn around, backtrack, and find the right turn—but it’s not. Acrid air begins to choke you with thin fingers that grip your throat without remorse. Your diaphragm tenses, solid as a rock; it refuses to loosen and allow you to draw breath. You’re frozen—stuck in time at the entrance of some grimy alley as two men converse with one another where they pass notes and cash between one another beneath the adust halogen lights.

Dirty business. Something that stains your skin and festers until you’re just as sordid. Your tongue goes dry as if someone’s shoved your mouth full of cotton, and it only worsens when you realize that you recognize one of the men. It’s difficult not to with his brown undercut and stony eyes nestled beneath rigid brows. Trembling fingers dig into the takeout box in your hands as your mind is plagued with the fluttering idea to flee, but it’s too late. His blue eyes have already found you in the darkness with a fire that illuminates your body like a spotlight.

He always looks angry—determined—with harsh features and tense lips. Yet, as he stares at you, he appears almost relieved.

Like he had been looking for you.

You swallow the lump in your throat as this man mutters something to his friend. The stranger looks back and forth between you and the man before quickly departing, shoulder brushing against yours as he passes by. Heavy feet stomp against the stone floor of the alleyway as you’re approached by this monster of a man. You tell yourself to look away, but you can’t.

You know better than to look away from Andrei when his hands are in his pockets.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, stopping just close enough to crowd your space, but not so much that you step back.

Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth as you attempt to choke out the words to respond to him. “I’m… delivering food.”

Andrei looks over his shoulder. The tenebrous alleyway stares back at both of you with nothing to show but noisome garbage bins. “To who? The rats?”

“I made a wrong turn,” you answer honestly.

He chuckles, but it’s flat. There’s no amusement behind it, just macabre curiosity. You’re nothing but a creature—one he can’t wait to cut into.

“You’re always getting lost, aren’t you?” he questions. It’s not something he expects an answer for, and you know it, so you stay silent as he leans closer as if ready to tell you a secret. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You’re very aware of this fact. You knew as much the moment you laid eyes on him.

“I’ll just… drop this off and go. I’ll go straight home, I swear,” you attempt to plead.

“Dangerous men here. Lots of them,” Andrei continues as if you never said anything in the first place. “You’d do well to keep your distance. I know you like getting caught up in bad business, but this isn’t something you want to get stuck in. I can promise you that much. I mean it. Stay the fuck away from this place. I don’t want to catch you here again.”

“Chip?”

Simon’s voice bounces off the brick walls around you, rattling you to the point you swear your knees will give out. You’re unsure if you should feel relieved or terrified that he found you. A twitch in your neck urges you to look over your shoulder, but you stop when you see Andrei is already staring at him. The corners of his lips twist downward.

“Need something?” Andrei asks, bored.

“Yeah,” Simon responds. Gravel and sand crunches behind you, and you flinch as you feel a warm hand bleed through your jumper as he squeezes your shoulder. “I need you to fuck off.”

Amused, Andrei tilts his head to one side. Simon is significantly taller than him, yet he doesn’t seem intimidated at all. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into here, friend,” he warns.

“I said fuck off,” Simon deadpans. “I don’t need some mangy cunt sniffin’ around here. Creepy little shit, you are. What? Need me to repeat myself?”

There’s no time to warn Simon about the war he’s started with those words. Rage boils in Andrei’s eyes with a heat so violent you can feel it in his hands as he shoves you to the side.

The takeout box slips out of your palms just in time for you to catch your fall. Soft flesh collides with jagged rocks and broken glass, but the adrenaline pumping through your system numbs the pain in your palms and knees. Angel hair pasta litters the ground around you, and the mouthwatering scent of Simon’s would-be meal becomes stomach churning. A strained sob escapes your mouth as you try and steady yourself to keep your body from toppling over onto the ground.

All you wanted to do was drop off the meal and go home.

It takes an eternity for you to push yourself to your feet, and even then you nearly fall back to the ground. Mind spinning, your weary eyes can hardly make sense of your shredded palms and the blood that trickles from small lacerations. Shock grips you like a vice, forcing your body to shiver as it pumps your muscles with enough adrenaline to stop your heart.

When you turn around, the tinnitus in your ears suddenly roars louder than anything else around you as you witness the fight before you. Blood gushes from the side of Andrei’s head and his nose. It dribbles down his chin until it leaves dainty stains on the white cotton of his shirt. He leans against the wall for support while staring daggers at Simon, who stands between the two of you like a human meatshield. A physical barrier to keep Andrei from you. Still, it isn’t enough to hide the unmistakable glint of the knife in his hand.

It hits you all at once. The blood. How it spills freely from a stomach, ruining fresh upholstery. You wonder how many other lives that knife has taken. That cruel, curved blade that taunts you as Andrei folds it up and shoves it back into his pocket. Pale eyes land on you in a warning as he wipes his face on the back of his hand, smearing blood across the flushed color of his cheeks. He doesn’t have to say his caveat out loud for you to know what he wishes to say.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re next.

You catch the tail end of Andrei’s retreat before your stomach begins to bubble. Turning around, you hardly have enough time to brace your sore hands against the wall before rancid bile stings the back of your throat. You puke. Vile liquid sloshes on the ground. There’s hardly anything inside of you to get rid of; just the consumed remnants of your brunch from hours ago. You try to keep it down, but you’re overwhelmed by the way your muscles contract, contorting your body uncomfortably as you expel the only bit of sustenance you were able to eat that day.

Simon’s hand rests on your hunched back, but you can’t get yourself to face him as your stomach quivers and protests. He whispers something on your left—something too muffled for you to hear. It can’t reach you. Everything is disconnected. Nothing but frayed wires and nerves. Shuttering breaths. Cold blood. Trembling hands. Rocks sticking out of flesh.

Then, there’s nicotine. It’s faint; something that haunts the fabric of Simon’s shirt as he pulls you close. You’re not sure if he holds you to offer you comfort, or to keep your shaking legs from collapsing. You decide that you don’t care why he does it—either way, you’re grateful for it. You focus on the smell of him—old smoke mixed with something clean, like cotton—as well as his warmth as he keeps you tucked close to his side. It does nothing to stave off the panic ravaging your chest, but it’s enough for now.

“C’mon, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Simon urges. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

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#ilium writing #sr ilia #in limbo #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #female reader

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wvyik · 3 days ago

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unspoken. d.w. .𖥔 ݁ ˖

dean winchester x fem! reader

ᰔ summary: the silence between you and dean grows louder with every passing day, filled with unacknowledged feelings. you both know there’s something more, but neither of you is brave enough to face it.

⤿ warnings: angst, silent tension, friend-zone, miscommunication, heartbreak, internal conflict, no comfort/resolution, subtle longing, emotional distance.

⤿ notes: hi guys!! im back (kinda) and feeling super unmotivated; trying to change my writing style though, so i hope you enjoy some longer paragraphs. love youu!! writers block is a bitch.

It was the silence that got to you the most. Not the words you didn’t say, but the ones that had been said and couldn’t be taken back. The air between you and Dean had shifted somewhere along the way, and it didn’t matter how many hunts you survived, how many hours spent sitting in the Impala with him, the space between you both felt like it was widening, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

You didn’t want to look at him, but you couldn’t help it. He was there, sitting next to you in the Impala, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel, the low hum of the engine filling the empty spaces. He hadn’t said much since the last hunt, and neither had you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly— more like the kind of ache that comes from something unfinished, something that neither of you were brave enough to bring up.

You shifted in your seat, glancing out the window at the blur of passing trees, trying to focus on the road ahead. You knew Dean was glancing at you, his gaze just heavy enough to make you feel the weight of it, but you kept your eyes straight ahead. If you didn’t look, it wouldn’t feel so much like he was pulling you in, right? You didn’t feel that tightening in your chest every time your gazes almost met.

The night had been long. Longer than you remembered, longer than it should have been. You had killed the last vampire, wiped the blood from your hands, and tried to move on, but you couldn’t shake that feeling. That feeling that maybe Dean wasn’t looking at you like he used to. Not like he used to look at everyone else. Not like he used to look at you.

You didn’t want to feel it. You didn’t want to be that girl. But it was there, and you couldn’t ignore it. You couldn’t ignore the way his gaze seemed to linger just a little longer than it should, the way his hand brushed against yours whenever you were passing him something, or the way his voice softened when he said your name, like it meant something more than it ever had before.

And it made your heart ache.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Dean said, his voice low, not accusing, but there was a trace of concern in it. His eyes flicked toward you again, but you didn’t look at him. You kept your gaze locked on the road, even though it felt like you were staring at nothing.

“Just tired,” you muttered, the lie slipping easily from your lips, even though you knew it wasn’t true. Tired? Yeah, maybe physically, but mentally, you were exhausted in a way you couldn’t even begin to explain. You were tired of pretending it didn’t hurt. Tired of pretending that you didn’t feel the way your chest tightened every time he was too close. Tired of keeping the truth buried inside you.

You heard him let out a quiet breath, and when you dared to glance at him, you saw his jaw clenching, his eyes fixed on the road, but there was something in the way his shoulders tensed that told you he wasn’t buying it. He always saw through the walls you built, even when you did everything to hide it.

The miles stretched on, the silence thickening. There was nothing comfortable about it anymore. It was like you were both stuck in this limbo of half-finished thoughts, of words you couldn’t say, of feelings that couldn’t be acknowledged because the moment you did, everything would shatter.

Dean’s hand twitched on the steering wheel, like he wanted to reach out to you, like he wanted to say something, but even he wasn’t sure what to say anymore. He wasn’t the type to beat around the bush, but lately, everything felt… delicate. Like if he said the wrong thing, it would all fall apart.

The song playing on the radio was some old classic rock hit, something that didn’t quite match the mood, but somehow, it felt fitting. You were both trapped in the past, both stuck on something you couldn’t let go of, and it was as painful as it was familiar.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you?” Dean asked after a long stretch of silence. His voice was quieter this time, a little softer than usual, like he was walking on eggshells, like he wasn’t sure if he should even ask.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “There’s nothing to tell, Dean,” you said, your words slipping out too quickly, a little too sharp. You weren’t mad, but your heart felt like it was breaking in two, and you hated that he was making you feel like this. You hated that he was making you face things you weren’t ready to deal with.

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened again, and this time, you could hear the frustration in his voice when he spoke. “I don’t believe you. I haven’t believed you for weeks now.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. What were you supposed to say? You didn’t even know what was going on with you. It was just there— this thing between you two that neither of you were brave enough to face.

Dean didn’t push. He never did when it mattered most. He just let the silence sit there between you like it belonged, like maybe he understood the words you couldn’t find. His fingers drummed once against the steering wheel, slow and uneven, like he was thinking about reaching for you but stopped himself at the last second. And maybe it would’ve been easier if he had gotten mad, if he’d barked something sharp to cut through the air. But Dean didn’t yell. He just sat there, breathing slow, carrying the weight of everything unspoken like he’d gotten used to it.

You turned your head, finally daring to look at him, and the moment you did, you wished you hadn’t. His profile in the dark was all hard lines and soft glances. The set of his jaw stubborn, his mouth pressed into something that wasn’t quite a frown but damn close. And then there were his eyes, catching yours for just a breath, and in them was all the heartbreak you didn’t have the guts to name. You hated yourself for it. Hated yourself for not being brave enough.

“I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like you don’t see it,” Dean said finally, and his voice was so quiet it almost wasn’t there. Like he didn’t trust it. Like maybe if he spoke too loud, everything would crack wide open. He turned his head toward you a little more, eyes searching yours in that way he did when he wasn’t sure if he was about to get punched or kissed. “Whatever this is… it’s real. You know it is.”

You felt something twist inside you, sharp and sudden. It would’ve been so easy to reach across the seat and grab his hand, to anchor yourself to him the way he wanted you to. It would’ve been so easy to say I know. To finally stop running. But you didn’t move. You sat there, heart hammering, hands frozen in your lap, and all you could do was look at him like you didn’t recognize yourself anymore.

“I can’t,” you said, barely above a whisper. The words scraped their way out of your throat, and you hated how small you sounded.

Dean’s mouth tugged into a bitter smile, the kind he wore when he was pretending he wasn’t bleeding inside. He nodded once, slow, like he was already expecting it. Like he had known you would say that, and still somehow, he had hoped you wouldn’t.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning back against the seat like the wind had been knocked out of him. “Yeah, that’s kinda what I figured.”

The Impala’s engine rumbled under you both, steady and unbothered, the only sound filling the awful space you had carved between yourselves. You wanted to tell him it wasn’t about him—that it wasn’t because you didn’t feel it, because God, you felt it. It lived under your skin, a constant ache, a heartbeat you couldn’t silence. But what good would it have done? The damage was already there, bleeding out between you, staining everything that had been easy and good and real.

“I’m sorry,” you said, because it was the only thing left. Because it felt like the only thing you could give him, even though it wasn’t enough. Not even close.

Dean let out a breath that sounded more like a laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t be. Just… don’t.” He gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles white, and you wondered if he realized he was doing it. “You don’t owe me anything.”

But the thing was— you did. You owed him everything. All the late nights laughing over beers, all the quiet moments fixing each other up after hunts, all the times he looked at you like you were the only goddamn person in the room that mattered. You owed him the truth, and maybe part of you knew you weren’t strong enough to give it.

You stayed quiet after that, the words lodged in your throat, heavy and useless. Dean shifted the Impala into drive without another glance your way, the tires crunching over gravel as he pulled out onto the dark stretch of highway. And as the miles slipped by under the tires, you realized that whatever it was between you and Dean; whatever could’ve been, it wasn’t just on pause,

It was slipping away.

And you were letting it.

taglist; @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @mostlymarvelgirl @freeluigihesbae @impala67rollingthroughtown @multiversefanfics @littlesoulshine @starzify @ladykitana90 @idontwannabehere78 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @pieandflannel @tinas111 @unstable-cucumber @everythingisaspectrum @pennywatsonlafayette @lunaleah @cupidzbunny ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⤿ wanna be tagged in my fics?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading! more works incoming @ library.

#༊*·˚ wvyik #sofia writes ✎#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester one shot #supernatural x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural #dean winchester x you #dean x you #jensen ackles x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader angst #supernatural fanfiction

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newyearseve1979 · 4 months ago

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Cool Niece, Cooler Aunt

Or, Lilia and Alice spend some time together.

Content warnings, brief mentions of death and grief, allusions and mentions of malicious drug use. It’s pretty tame, generally

Lilia stared at the boiling teapot. The stove glowed gently under it, the sun lit up its shiny metal surface, but the water itself seemed unchangeable. If her stare bore into the kettle hard enough, the water would boil faster (or something like that.) “You could just use magic,” Alice said, leaning against the kitchen counter. Her hair was still messy from sleep and the orangish red streaks in her hair definitely needed re-done. She had an old Le Tigre band shirt on. Lilia vaguely remembered going to one of their concerts.

“It's the little routines that keep a girl together,” Lilia shrugged.

Alice nodded, smiling. She could appreciate the sentiment.

Lilia’s own robe was burnt orange and one of softest things she owned. Sun streamed through the window, lighting up the spacious kitchen. It was a far cry from her old apartment, Lilia knew, and she wouldn't have been able to afford it without the rest of the witches. After the road, after she’d fallen, she’d been stuck in a weird kind of Limbo. Alice had been there too, but that's all they could remember. Turns out the road had been made up so they didn't really die, even though Rio has still arrived to take them to that little inbetween world. Lilia didn't want to think too hard on that, because they’d gotten out when Jen completed her trial. What mattered was that she and her fuck ass coven (as described by Lilia herself) had bought a house together, roughly an hour’s drive out of East View, in the woods. It was close enough to other people for the working witches to keep up with their lives, and far enough away for Agatha to… what was she up to again? While the two waking witches assumed everyone else was asleep, Agatha had already gone out for a walk in the woods before the sun rose.

The teapot whistled, and Lilia took it off the stove. Alice had already set out two mugs and the honey pot. The house was quiet. Lilia and Alice were the only ones in the kitchen, and since it was a Sunday, no one had work. Not that there was much to do; Jennifer’s business was largely remote until she felt like returning to her shop, and Alice was still on the job hunt. Agatha was… well Lilia didn't need to touch that until she felt like it.

The quiet was interrupted by the music Alice had switched on. Bikini Kill, Lilia recognized it, Reject all America. “Good band,” she said, turning off the stove and mixing honey into her cup. Alice only looked slightly surprised. “I saw them live a few times.”

To Alice’s credit, she didn't let her jaw fall all the way down. “You Lilia? Really?”

Lilia smiled to herself. “Oh yeah,” she pointed at Alice’s shirt, “them too.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not!” Lilia insisted, amused. She hugged her soft rope close, and sipped on her tea. Riot Grrrl had attracted plenty of witches in her area, and yeah, Lilia had been pretty into it. Alice shook her head, still smiling.

“I'm trying to picture you at a punk concert.”

Lilia rolled her eyes. She thought about a time when she’d straightened her hair and her old thrifted jacket. “Get me that leather jacket of yours, doll,” She smiled. Memories of stitching protection runes into the inside of her jacket came back to her. “I'll try it on and that’ll give you a pretty good picture.”

Alice gave Lilia a once over. Her robe was snug and secure, her curly hair was piled on her head, and an amulet hung from her neck. Lilia looked like a classy broadway star, not a Riot Grrrl fan. Still, she could almost picture it. Lilia with a shaggy haircut, leather jacket, and punk shirts, cursing out some moron. “Come on, don't tell me you think I'm too old,” Lilia huffed, half kidding.

Alice waved her off. “I’d sneak into concerts when I was younger. My um, well you know my mom died when I was thirteen? I wanna say that was the same time the movement was getting traction.”

Lilia nodded. “The years blended together for me after a bit. All my big losses happened -oh god- forever ago.” She finished her tea and put the cup in the sink. “How long did you keep up with it?”

Alice hummed, and hugged herself. “Till college. It kind of fell off a bit after I graduated you know? But freshman year was intense. I dated this girl who I thought was big into Team Dresch, so we’d gone to a few concerts. Turns out she’d been more into the story about my mom. That wasn't the whole reason we stopped going out though. But the movement had been this part of my life, in a massive way after mom died. She’d made sure music was always important to my life. I needed away from the magic shit, and it was a good place to be angry. I really needed to be angry; you know I stayed that way for a long time.

But after a few years, when I'd put in my old cd’s and records all I could think of was how… upset I was as a teenager. You know I didn’t deal with my grief until recently, so, I guess that’s something else. ” Lilia watched Alice, nodding at the right times. She definitely knew. She wasn't about to forget Alice’s trial on the road, or what she’d said later.

“Sad is better than angry.”

Alice’s head was tilted down, but Lilia saw her eyes getting misty. She moved over to Alice’s side of the kitchen. She put a hand on her shoulder. “I got back into it recently,” Alice added, "the music. It's way easier to find the old music on the internet, especially when Jen pays for my subscription.” Lilia knew what she meant; she was also on the plan.

“Well I don't know how to tell you this, but punk attracts all kinds of outcasts, witches included. Even if they tended to uplift white middle class girls over other groups.” Lilia patted Alice’s arm before stepping back again. “Trust me doll, you were where you needed to be.” The speaker had switched over to Dyke March by Le Tigre. Their singer was the same one from Bikini Kill. “I met her once,” Lilia mused, tapping on the speaker,“Kathleen Hanna.”

Alice wiped at her face. It was early enough that she hadn't put on her usual makeup yet. “Yeah? Do you think she remembers you?”

She chuckled. “No, probably not. But I know she’s touring right now with Bikini Kill again.”

“I saw that.”

Lilia didn't hesitate. “We should go see them. Tonight. They’ve got Eastview stadium for the week, and it's cheapest tonight.”

“Lilia Calderu is inviting me to a punk concert?”

“Lilia Calder is offended at this disbelief,” Lilia huffed, “you know twenty years ago I was getting more comments about my age when I was getting pins and patches than I bet your thirteen year old ass was. Compared to me, you’re practically a child. I should be asking if it's past your bedtime.”

Alice swatted Lilia’s arm. “You’ve been around Harkness too much.” Lilia shrugged. The pair made plans to go to a punk concert once the sun went down.

That evening, Lilia went through the boxes in her room that she still hadn't unpacked. “I know where it all is, there's no point in reorganizing!” She’d say, but it was really because part of her still wasn't certain the roommate situation would last. Either way, she found some dark, flowy clothes that were probably more Stevie Nicks than anything, but honestly, who was going to care. Lilia dug around for a few protection rings; the ones she always took, and the few extras she took to this kind of scene because she’d been around long enough to see some messed up shit.

A vision flashed to Lilia. Crowded room, packed venue. Sweaty bodies pushing her around. Someone yelling, Piss off Lilia! And harsh hands jerking her to the side. Too loud, too loud, too loud, so loud that it blurred her vision. She swayed. She dropped her drink; the mussels in her hand betrayed her. Was it the crowd or was it- no shit shit not again. When is this? Last time-

“Lilia!” Soft hands shook her gently, and Lilia put her own up in self defense, pushing back against a pink clad body. Soft hands held her in place as she pushed, letting Lilia have something to physically resist.. She found herself sitting, then, black skirts piling around her, grey curls falling in front of her face. Lilia was coming back to herself when Jen said her name again. “Hey? Kooky?” Lila looked around. She'd knocked over the box she’d been rifling through. Bobbles scattered around the floor, thrown about like whatever timeline was trying to speak to Lilia. Alice stood in the doorway. Lilia’s brow produced little beads of sweat as she tried to determine if she’d visited a vision or a memory. Jen nudged her again. “Lilia?”

Lilia shrugged Jen off. She rubbed her temple. “I just…”

“You went away for a minute,” Jen nodded. She tilted her head, with a rare Kale smile. “Anywhere good?” Definitely not.

Lilia chuckled dryly, using Jen to help her to her feet. “Somewhere loud.” She looked over at Alice. “You look… concert ready.” She nodded approvingly. Alice’s orange streaks had been re-dyed, with the help of Jen earlier that day. Her outfit was pretty close to what she wore the first time Lilia had met her. Only this time, it was a slightly different jacket with a list of different feminist punk bands painted onto the back. Her makeup was a bit bigger too. She tossed Lilia a pair of ear plugs.

“We’re good to head out in ten?”

“Give me twenty,” Lilia said. It wasn't a question. Alice nodded and went back downstairs. Jen smoothed out the shirt on Lilia’s shoulders. Then she went over and sat on Lilia’s bed. Lilia settled herself into a plush chair she’d picked up back in Vienna, right in front of her mirror.

“Where did you go this time?” Jen asked when Lilia didn't ask her to leave.

Lilia pursed her lips. “A concert.” She flexed her hands in front of her face. They did not fail her as she applied lipstick and mascara, or when she clasped talismans around her neck and wrists. They would not fail her again, and they hadn’t that night. It had been a close call, Lilia remembered, but that's all. She didn't tell Jen and Jen didn’t push. Oddly, she’d stopped pushing since the trial. But she had started watching Lilia. She’d stay in the same room a little longer, stay up a little later, all little things Lilia noticed, but wouldn't ask about yet. What right did she have to anyway, to tell her to leave. Not after she sent Jen down the road without her, and Lilia knew that.

Alice had the car running and music already playing. “What’s this?” Lilia asked as she slid into the passenger seat.

“Mommy Long-Legs,” Alice smiled. They pulled out of the wider part of the driveway and started down the road that wasn't necessarily a private road, but might as well have been because of how long it was, and the fact that there were only two houses on it, both perfectly crafted for woodland semi-isolation. As far as Lilia knew, their neighboring building was largely uninhabited. She’d never seen it though, as it was hidden so far back that the trees blended together into black before you could hope to see a house.

“What else do you listen to?” Alice asked, breaking Lilia from her thoughts.

Lilia hummed. “Jazz, older Italian songs, but seventies and eighties rock was a pretty good time for music too, I suppose. Stevie Nicks is wonderful.”

“Mom performed with her and Fleetwood Mac.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. I was pretty young, but I remembered it being a huge deal.”

“I remember that,” Lilia reminisced, “that was a good show.”

They got themselves out of the woods and started driving along a series of fields. Houses slowly started showing up, becoming closer and more clustered the longer they drove. The lights of civilization began to shine down on them, and suddenly the road was a bit less empty. When they made it into Eastview, approaching the venue, Lilia could start to guess who was on their way to the concert. She smiled-

Fuck off Lilia! She’s pushed to her knees, or has she fallen on her own. Help! Who needed help! The picture is fuzzy. Wrong. It’s not as clear as it should be. She’s inebriated. No, she's… she’s…

Her body slumps down, and before she can catch herself, Lilia hits her head off the dashboard. She curses herself, looks at Alice who drives calmly, and sits back up in her seat. “Um,” Alice starts slowly. She turns into a parking spot and shuts off the music. “Are you… back?”

Lilia looks at Alice, searching. Who’s voice had told her to- “Say something,” Lilia said.

“Something? Lilia are you ok? Do I need to call Jen or…?”

Lilia’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need a babysitter, baby. I’m fine.” But she wasn’t fine. Time was not linear and she was actively jumping around. She couldn't hold herself, couldn't find where she needed to be like she had on the road. She looked at Alice. She needed to ask for help. She needed her sisters for the craft.

“I dont…” Alice bit her lip, “I don’t know how to help you.”

“Well I'm sure that's really hard for you,” she snapped. She rubbed her temples. In the vision… she couldn't get a grip on reality. It was like something was infecting her.

“I’m not taking your shit old woman,” Alice snapped right back, not missing a beat. Lilia barked out a humorless laugh. She nodded approvingly. It confused Alice.

“You’re into punk, right doll? Right. So why the hell are you a cop?” She gave Alice a hard stare. Alice didn't flinch, but regarded Lilia with suspicion. “I’m not, ok, that sounded judgemental. It was.”

“I wanted-”

“To help people? That wasn't intuition, that's common sense. The Protection Witch wants to protect people. So why not get into security? And don't give me that mall security bullshit, that wasn't your choice.” Lilia had successfully deflected back onto Alice. For now. Divine Mother, she really was spending too much time around Agatha. That thought made her shiver, so she softened. “You could be anything, baby,” She reached over for Alice’s hands, “embrace it.”

“Oh fuck off Lilia,” Alice groaned, “fuck that. I’m glad you had your enlightenment moment on the road, but you’re not ok!You still haven't even told me what happened after I died, so unlike Jen, I still don't have a damn clue what's wrong with you! And that's fine! But how am I supposed to protect you?”

“Don't protect me then!” Lilia shouted, “Protect yourself, baby! I’m not senile, I don't-”

“Need a babysitter! I know! You’ve fucking said Lilia, youve fucking said.” Alice slammed her hand down on the horn of the parked car. A group of punk girls, in their early teens, late twenties, cheered. “You’re smart and you can take care of yourself because you've been doing it for centuries. You and everyone else in the house, ok, I've got it. No one taught me how to be a witch. I never made a habit of spending time with women literally centuries older than me.” Her eyes welled up with tears, even as her face contorted back to the familiar anger she’d lived with for so long.

Her mother holds her hand, showing her how to spread the tarot cards. How to read people like reading cards. She will see her mother’s death, and her mother may not see the truth in it. “Please Mama, please won't you listen? Let me help, let me help,” and then in the dark of the night after vision after vision-

“Just let me help you! Don't leave me alone!” Lilia cries out, her hands flying to her hair and pulling her curls out of place, like she’d done as a girl. She shakes as her lungs try to puncture themselves on her ribs, expanding against the shell of her body. She looks back to Alice, ashamed. “That wasn't,” she started, “that wasn't for you.”

Alice nodded. She had unbuckled her seatbelt and was sitting against the inside of the door, her feet pulled up to her knees. Her head was tilted on her arms like they had been at the campfire on the witches road. Alice wasnt smiling though, she was waiting. Lilia handed her a ring to fidget with.

“My mother,” Lilia confessed quietly, “well. I lost her too. I couldn't protect her.” Lilia glances at herself in the side mirror. Her hair had been pulled into disarray. Her makeup should just be wiped off at that point. “I do not want to talk about it. Jen knows. But I knew it would happen, and I couldn't stop it, and I was alone and no one wants to be around a woman who sees their deaths-” her voice cracked, “so I was run out of everywhere. I apologize if I don’t know how to fix you, doll-”

“So don't try to fix me,” Alice said. She started out firm, then paused. She reached over for Lilia’s hand. Lilia took it- hesitantly. “Don’t try to fix, try to help. Advise. Ok?”

Lilia nodded. She pulled the curls out of her face and readjusted the neck of her shirt., fixing her posture. “And you don't need to protect me… just, oh Divine mother, just, support me. Sometimes.”

Alice nodded. A silent agreement passed between them. They did not, in fact, hug it out. They didn't go to the concert, either. With a peace made between them, Lilia saw a worse future. Her abilities were not deteriorating, she was visiting a time where she was drugged. Roofied. After Alice would tell her to fuck off, again, the protection witch would be separated from her. Neither would reach for their powers in time, because they would both be incapacitated. So instead, they went to an old vinyl shop. They left with some Grateful Dead, Billy Joel, and Alice turned Lilia onto the Crane Wives.

The shop owner, an older man, didn't peg them as mother and daughter, like his assistant had asked Lilia. Of course, Lilia said no. The shop owner, who knew and sensed more than his young apprentice, immediately saw them as Cool Niece, Cooler Aunt.

Sisters of the craft. He charged them extra.

They had yet to really understand each other, but certainly, they were getting there.

#agatha all along #lilia calderu #alice wu gulliver #fanfic #writing #aaa marvel #agatha harkness

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teaspoontarot · 5 months ago

Text

Mini Playlist From Your Beloved 🎶

This is a mini playlist straight from your beloved! Open up a see what’s inside. While focused on love there’s a little something for everyone.

These messages are meant to sweeten your day and be a teaspoon of fun! You will always know yourself and your situation the best, therefore everything written here is just to give you a little nudge!

💖 Teaspoon

Pile 1 ✨

You 🔮

Four of Cups - “Wanting anything except the nice thing you have”

Oracle Message

Now is the time to be straightforward with your desires. What is that you want? You desire? This applies to love and romance but to other aspects of your life. You may be a “go with the flow” type of person and mainly wish for things rather than ask. It seems like someone is waiting on you to address the elephant in the room? Will you? Conversations are always scary but this one at least could lead to a path that you could only ever dream. Open yourself up and be seen.

Them 💫

The Hermit - “Beware of self-inflicted loneliness: reach out”

Oracle Message -

They are in waiting/hiding. Hoping for someone to connect with or pull them away, a dreamer and someone who wears their heart on their sleeve. They’ve been vulnerable and fear what the consequences have done. There’s an energy of being left out in the cold, a grand gesture or a heartfelt one has been made and they are waiting. They see two paths ahead and hope you can join them for one.

Mini Playlist #1🎶

Perfume Genius - On The Floor

“Out the door

I pace, I run my mouth

I pray to change

I cross out his name on the page”

Remi Wolf- Wave

“You said you miss me but I swear I miss you more

My baby's gonna buy me a big boat for my birthday (My baby's gonna buy me)

But all I really wish that he would do is keep me company

(Keep me company)

Oh, God, I forgot, long distance, what a bitch

Listening to Timberlake without you, it doesn't scratch the same itch

My baby's gonna buy me a big boat for my birthday (My baby's gonna buy me)

But all I really wish he that would do is keep me company”

Caroline Polacheck - Doors

“You open the door

To another door, to another door

And I'm running through to you”

“Back in the city

I'm just another girl in a sweater

Back in the city

Everything's different when we're not together”

Kendrick Lamar ft. SZA - Luther

“I can't lie

I trust you, I love you, I won't waste your time

I turn it off just so I can turn you on

I'ma make you say it loud

I'm not even trippin', I won't stress you out

I might even settle down for you, I'ma show you I'm a pro

I'ma take my time and turn it off”

Note: If you liked it feel free to leave a tip ✨

Pile 2 ✨

You 🔮

The Star, Five of Shells (Cups), Three of Candles (Wands), The Hanged One

“Is it so crazy to hope that your wish comes true? The trick is to recognize and appreciate when it does. Spread and share your love”

“There is no point in dwelling on previous actions as mistakes. See them as a turning point towards a new route”

“Stay determined to remain adventurous. Take your ideas for a walk.”

“Beware of an uncomfortable limbo. Of being stuck in a role”

Oracle Message -

Be bold and bright! A shining sun on the horizon bringing warmth from the coolness of night! Don’t shudder yourself away due to what somebody else has said. Even when you tone yourself down, you can’t help but shimmer. Those who see you for what you are will embrace the warmth, and those who can’t will simply be blinded. Take care of yourself and your magnificent joy.

Them 💫

Five of Feather (Swords) - “You can learn humbly from this again…Don’t bite off more than you can chew”

Oracle Message

Sweet and gentle and looking for their own truth. Something bubbling up that they can no longer contain. A smile and a jokester that wants to give you more. Not very good at vulnerability but wants to grow and build with you. They may not know exactly who they are yet but they do want to be with you. An open door and arms.

Mini Playlist #2 🎶

Robin McNamara- Lay A Little Lovin On Me

“Ever since we kissed that night

Ever since I held you tight

I just don't want nobody else

So put your lips on mine

Leave them there 'til the morning time

Lord don't leave me by myself”

Floweroflove - Breaking News

“It's such a headache how you got me in knots

How you're up in my thoughts

Sound like, "Bla-bla-bla-bla" (Bla, bla)

It's so dramatic how you're all that I've got

How you love me non-stop

And your hair is so hot”

Sharon Van Etten & Angel Olsen - “Like I Used To”

“Lighting one up like I used to

Dancing all alone like I used to

Giving it up like I used to

Falling in love like I used to

Open my heart like I used to

Making out long like I used to

Holding hands openly, rights to

Taking what's mine like I used to”

Remi Wolf -Toro

“We're waking up the people down the hall

You're a bull, and I can't help but saying, "Toro, toro"

And when they buzz me for the lobby call

I don't show 'cause I'm too busy saying, "Toro, toro"

The things we do are so deplorable, horrible

Yeah, I'm too busy saying, "Toro, toro"”

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Pile 3 ✨

You 🔮

Eight of Roses (Pentacles) - “A regular and reliable arrangement or resource: sometimes we just want someone who can comfortably deliver”

Oracle Message -

Bearing the weight of everyone’s pain on your shoulders. The ever mature and sturdy one. Locked into a position of authority that is unwanted. Looking for somewhere to rest and lay easy. Hard-working and talented but often overlooked for the more glamorous. As difficult as it is, take the time for you. However that shows up, ignore that text message, take that day off, go on that date. Your life is for you. You can only provide so much before you burn yourself alive.

Them 💫

Two of Shells (Cups), The Devil

“Mutuality, merging and a precious meeting of hearts. To the exclusion of others”

“Play! Does it feel good?Does that mean it’s good? Tailor your preferences to the perfect fit; find your own way”

Oracle Message -

Emotional and always open, nearly a complete opposite, but always on your side. Teary eyes and talking about their feelings but their house is always warm. They like things you can’t conceive but they love that it makes you laugh. Unwittingly glamorous and needy but still kind. My struggle with the practical of life but seem to have figured out how to enjoy it.

Mini Playlist #3 🎶

Elton John- Candle In The Wind

“And it seems to me you lived your life

Like a candle in the wind

Never knowing who to cling to

When the rain set in”

“Your candle burned out long before

Your legend ever did”

Steven universe - I Need A Little Change

“And it's a full-time job admiring

All the ways that you're inspiring

If I had my way, I'd do it all day

The only problem is it doesn't pay”

SZA - Ghost in the Machine

“I just wanna fuck, eat, sleep, love happy

Can you make me happy? Can you keep me happy?”

“Everybody wanna be beautiful, scared of the unusual

Scared of givin' mutual respect, all that you hate

You reflect all that godlike, you forget how to love somebody”

Beyonce- Bodyguard

Sometimes I hold you closer

Just to know you're real (Ah)

Tell me your problems (I got you)

I take how you feel (Mm, huh)

I show you an exit (Ah)

When you're restless I take the wheel”

“I could be your bodyguard

Please let me be your Kevlar (Huh)

Baby, let me be your lifeguard

Kendrick Lamar ft. SZA - Luther

“In this world, concrete flowers grow

Heartache, she only doin' what she know

Weekends, get it poppin' on the low

Better days comin' for sure

If this world were—

If it was up to me

I wouldn't give these nobodies no sympathy

I'd take away the pain, I'd give you everything

I just wanna see you win, wanna see

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You 🔮

The World, King of Roses (Pentacles), Three of Roses (Pentacles)

“What have you learned from your experience? Are you ready to start a new adventure?

“Feel satisfied with what you’ve achieved thus far, but hopefully it’s only the beginning”

“Being grounded is a good thing, but give yourself permission every now and then to break free and do something different” - Biddy Tarot

Oracle Message -

A mind and a heart feeling conflicted. Feelings of a broken heart and a confused spirit. A path fought for and yet feeling like it hasn’t rewarded you. This is not the end but now is the time to let it be. Something has happened that feels like it can’t be walked back. Be honest and kind. This does not have to be a messy ending but a healing one.

Them 💫

The Empress, Knight of Roses (Pentacles), Eight of Feathers (Swords)

“Take time to allow the situation to develop”

“Don’t get so caught up in the routine that you lose sight of the adventure”

“Prior disappointments preventing present action…Unforeseen difficulties”

Oracle Message -

They are looking for a home. To be grounded and feel whole. They feel consumed by something or overwhelmed. Committed to a decision they didn’t realize would take so much. They want to provide and be honorable but they feel scared. Something isn’t clicking within them. There isn’t any malice involved but their actions still hurt. Miscommunication and missed opportunities.

Mini Playlist #4 🎶

Peter Brown - It’s True What They Say About Love

“Asking for more than they've given before in return

Growing as one is a lesson they promise to learn

And it's love that is found in the silent embrace

Close our eyes so the darkness will hold us in place

And they say love is lasting, time will never erase”

Kendrick Lamar & SZA - Gloria

“Said you gon' see other people if I didn't grow with you

Wasn't no more holdin' them pistols in front of stores with you

You want reality, not tragedy, for sure, I get you

To tell the truth, I been pretty used to what open-minded people do

In 2014, I went to Africa, baby, you was my passenger

My eyes and ears for all the years the neighborhood had baffled us

Of course I had to wrap it up, I didn't fully trust you

Fabrication, I disgust you, then you blocked me, I said, "Fuck you"”

Beach Bunny - Good Girls (Don’t Get Used)

“Say you miss me, say you wanna kiss me

I liked it better when you improvised the story we had

If you adore me, why do you ignore me?

I liked it better when you sent me "sorry" when I was sad

Stop saying, "It's my bad"

You're acting like your deadbeat dad

I know, you know you're better than that"

But you can't respond when you react”

Mitski - The Only Heartbreaker

“If you would just make one mistake

What a relief that would be

But I think for as long as we're together

I'll be the only heartbreaker”

“So I'll be the loser in this game

I'll be the bad guy in the play

I'll be the water main that's burst and flooding

You'll be by the window, only watch"

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#pick a pile #tarot #tarotblr #kpop tarot #tarot reading #pick a card #pick a card readings

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themattress · 8 months ago

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The Shitennou in the 90s anime are fantastic because each one of them is a specialist of some sort and it makes their evil operations distinct from one another, keeping things fresh.

Jadeite - The Illusionist

When it comes to Jadeite, deception is the name of the game. For his energy harvesting schemes he creates fake businesses, has his youma pose as humans, and he himself dons all sorts of disguises: radio DJ, fitness instructor, stage manager, academic professor, shrine assistant, amusement park security guard, and captain of a cruise ship. He will also utilize illusions to intimidate like when he showed a vision of Tokyo in flames, or to trick his enemies like when he had illusionary cops force the Sailor Senshi to transform so that he could learn their true identities. Unfortunately, Jadeite's pride in his capabilities means that he was stubbornly unwilling to adapt and take a more direct approach, leading to his downfall.

Nephrite - The Manipulator

Nephrite is a manipulator in all senses of the word. He manipulates people, objects, events and even the stars themselves in order to achieve his villainous goals. Using the single disguise of Masato Sanjouin, he gets close to victims, then will usually give them an item he curses to amplify their innate negative energy until it matches the energy of the star they were born under, creating a special youma in the process. He eventually singles out a key victim in Naru Osaka, who has a crush on his Sanjouin persona, and manipulates her in plans to destroy the Sailor Senshi or find the Imperium Silver Crystal, and uses a special tool of his own creation known as the Dark Star Crystal. However, his cold heart ends up warmed by Naru's innocence and devotion to love, leading him to his tragic demise defending her.

Zoisite - The Cheat

While Zoisite had aid from Kunzite in strategizing, let's not sell him short when it comes to the moment of truth - Zoisite frequently prevails because he is willing to do absolutely anything to win. No method is too dirty, cheap or cowardly for him to embrace. He'll threaten someone's loved one to coerce them into doing what he wants, he'll sucker-punch his enemies out of nowhere after having previously retreated from them, he'll physically bully whoever is smaller and weaker than him then blind them to make an escape if they prove more formidable than expected, he'll pretend to surrender and then strike, he'll sic a monster on his enemy while taking his prize and running, and when all else fails a good old-fashioned stabbing in the back will suffice. Zoisite got far on dishonesty, but success went to his head and he overreached.

Kunzite - The Trap Master

At first Kunzite was a skilled tactician, but then after Zoisite died the writers made him stupider at crafting strategies without even seeming to realize it. What he remained very consistent on, however, was his brilliant and deadly traps. He engineered a fake hostage situation leading to the Sailor Senshi getting caught in a dark, ever-compressing forcefield, he cut the power in Tokyo to obstruct the Sailor Senshi's efforts and cause Mamoru and Usagi to get stuck in an elevator, he had a great idea for a DNA scanning device to catch Sailor Moon with that his youma sadly screwed up, he held a princess seminar where the target was the overall failures save for in a frisbee-tossing challenge since it reflects Sailor Moon's tiara throwing ability, he had a giant snowy chasm created for his enemies to fall right into and be unable to climb out of, he rigged an ice skating rink temperature control device to blast an obscene amount of icy coldness down on everyone and nearly freeze them to death, he played on Sailor Venus' friendship with another person to almost obtain vital information from her, he turned the Sailor Senshi's own attempt at a trap back on them because he saw right through it, and were it not for the Silver Crystal's interference would have trapped them all in time-space limbo. Of all the Shitennou, he came closest to victory on the most occasions. Additionally, he was a powerful warrior, with his power and pride sadly being his undoing.

#Sailor Moon #Dark Kingdom #The Shitennou #Jadeite #Nephrite #Zoisite #Kunzite #Evil #Villains #Awesome #Analysis #Comparison #I love all these bastards

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lila-lou · 5 months ago

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✨His true fate - Part 31/?✨

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! Slight!Smut, Language, age gap, angst, fluff

Word Count: 8459

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

It was late November, the air crisp but not too cold, and you sat on Jared’s porch in the backyard, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the scene. Jared’s wife and kids were out of town, leaving the house quiet except for the low murmur of conversation and the occasional sound of Jensen pacing in the yard below. Jensen was on the phone with Danneel—again. The tension in his voice was unmistakable, even though you couldn’t make out the exact words.

You took a sip from your beer, your shoulders slumping as you let out a sigh. It was the same story over and over. Danneel had promised to sign the divorce papers weeks ago, and yet here you were, nearly at the end of November, and nothing had changed. Every time it seemed like progress was being made, something would come up—some excuse, some new argument, and the papers would remain unsigned.

Jared, who was sitting beside you on the porch, glanced at you, clearly noticing your frustration. He took a swig of his own beer, his eyes drifting over to Jensen, who was pacing the backyard, his voice rising and falling as he argued with Danneel. It was hard not to feel the weight of the situation. This whole thing had been dragging on for far too long, and it was taking a toll on everyone—especially Jensen.

“Seems like it’s never gonna end, huh?”, Jared said quietly, breaking the silence between you. He leaned back in his chair, watching Jensen with a mixture of sympathy and annoyance. "I hate seeing him like this. He deserves better".

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak for a moment. The frustration and uncertainty had been building up inside you for weeks. You knew how much Jensen was struggling, caught between trying to do right by his kids and wanting to move forward with his life—and with you. But as long as Danneel kept dragging her feet, it felt like you were all stuck in limbo, waiting for something that might never happen.

“I just don’t get it”, you finally muttered, your voice tinged with frustration. “She said she would sign. What’s she waiting for? It’s like she’s doing this just to keep him tied up in knots”.

Jared let out a soft grunt of agreement. “That’s exactly what she’s doing. She knows what she’s doing, keeping him on edge like this. It’s about control, and she doesn’t want to let go of it”.

You sighed, resting your elbows on your knees as you watched Jensen continue to pace. You hated seeing him like this—so stressed, so caught up in a situation that seemed to have no end in sight. You knew how much he loved his kids, how important it was to him to be a good father, and that made everything more complicated. Danneel knew exactly how to push his buttons, and she wasn’t afraid to use the kids as leverage.

“He can’t keep living like this”, you said softly, more to yourself than to Jared.

Jared nodded, his gaze still fixed on Jensen. “No, he can’t. But until Danneel lets go, I don’t know what else he can do. It’s like she’s holding him hostage, and there’s only so much he can push before it affects the kids even more”.

You knew he was right, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. You took another sip of your beer, trying to push away the gnawing feeling of helplessness. This wasn’t how you’d imagined things would be when you and Jensen started this relationship. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but the constant back and forth with Danneel, the endless waiting, was starting to wear you down.

After a few more minutes of pacing, Jensen finally hung up the phone, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He walked over to the porch, his face a mix of frustration and exhaustion. He didn’t say anything at first, just dropped heavily into the chair beside you, running a hand through his hair.

“She’s still not ready to sign”, he muttered, his voice tight with anger. “Every time I think we’re making progress, she pulls something like this”.

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, offering him a small squeeze of support. “I’m sorry, Jensen. I know how hard this is for you”.

Jared leaned forward in his chair, his expression serious. “You can’t let her keep doing this, man. She’s dragging this out for control, not because she has a good reason. You’ve done everything you can to be fair”.

Jensen nodded, but his eyes were distant, the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders. “I just don’t know what else to do, man. I don’t want to make things worse for the kids”.

Jared sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get that. But you deserve to move on with your life too. She can’t keep you trapped like this forever”.

You sat there in silence for a moment, the three of you watching as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

Jensen stared off into the distance, his expression unreadable, before he finally ran his hands roughly over his face, letting out a long breath. Then, without saying much, he stood up and held out his hand toward you.

“C'mon”, he mumbled, his voice low but insistent.

You looked up at him, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion, then glanced toward Jared, who gave you an equally puzzled look. “What?”, you asked quietly, unsure of what he had in mind.

“Just.. come”, Jensen urged again, wiggling his hand for you to take it.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what he was planning, but there was something in his eyes—a mix of determination and vulnerability—that made you reach for his hand without question. Little did you know, Jensen had something significant planned. He’d been holding onto a secret, undecided, but now, in this moment, it seemed like he was ready to show you something he hadn’t even mentioned yet-.

As you stood up, Jared, clearly intrigued, followed suit. “Hold up, I want in on this too”, Jared said, grinning as he stepped beside you and Jensen. “I mean, if it’s something dirty or crazy, I’m definitely not missing out”.

Jensen gave a small, exasperated smile, shaking his head slightly but not giving away any details. “Trust me, it’s neither. But you can come if you want”.

Jared feigned disappointment, crossing his arms in mock frustration. “Well, that’s a shame, but I’ll still tag along. Can’t have you two going off on some mysterious adventure without me”.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at Jared’s playful attitude, but your curiosity grew.

The three of you walked toward the driveway, and Jensen didn’t say much as he led you to your car, but his grip on your hand was steady, as if he was gathering his thoughts. Jared hopped into the backseat as Jensen opened the passenger door for you. Once you were all settled in the car, Jensen finally spoke up, his voice calm but a little uncertain.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about”, he began, glancing over at you as he pulled out of the driveway. “Something I haven’t told you yet”.

You stared at him, still puzzled by the silence. Jensen hadn’t said anything more since he’d mentioned having something on his mind, and with each passing second, your curiosity and anxiety grew. You could feel the weight of the unspoken words, but it was the uncertainty that really got to you. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, glancing at Jared through the rearview mirror before turning back to Jensen, who was focused on the road.

“Just tell me, Jensen!”, you finally burst out, your voice a little more tense than you intended.

Deep down, a familiar fear had started to bubble up—one you had felt before, especially after the times Jensen had been slightly dismissive or distant following another argument with Danneel. The uncertainty always left you feeling like you were bracing for something worse, something you couldn’t control.

“Please”.

Jensen glanced over at you, his eyes soft but determined, as if he could feel the worry creeping into your thoughts. He shook his head gently, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I want you to see it first”, he mumbled.

That didn’t help the knot in your stomach, but you tried to push the fear aside, trusting him. He wouldn’t lead you into something bad. He wouldn’t do that, right?

Jared, sensing the tension, leaned forward from the backseat and made an exaggerated groaning sound. “Man, you’re killing the suspense! If you’ve got some big secret, just spill it already. We’re dying here!". His teasing tone cut through the heaviness in the air, making you chuckle despite yourself.

Jensen shot him a quick look in the mirror, shaking his head again but with more amusement this time. “It’s not like that, Jared”, he said, though there was a slight grin on his face now. “Just be patient”.

You exhaled, trying to settle your nerves as the car continued down the road. Whatever this was, it had to be important, and Jensen’s tone didn’t carry the weight of something negative. But still, after everything with Danneel and the constant uncertainty of where things stood, it was hard not to let your mind wander to darker places.

"Don’t worry”, Jensen mumbled, though there was a slight nervousness in his voice that you couldn’t ignore. He placed his palm gently on your thigh, squeezing softly as his eyes flicked over to meet yours for just a moment before returning to the road. The brief glance was filled with reassurance, but there was still something in his expression—a vulnerability he hadn’t shown in a while.

You tried to relax, the warmth of his hand grounding you a little, though the tension still lingered at the back of your mind. You trusted him, but the unease from the past weeks, with Danneel’s constant presence in his life and the uncertainty about where everything was headed, made it hard to fully let go of the worry.

Jared, clearly sensing the unspoken tension, shifted in the backseat, trying to break the silence with his usual humor. “Well, whatever it is, it better be good, man. You’ve got the both of us on the edge of our seats here. If it’s not some grand romantic gesture, you’re in trouble”, he teased, winking at you in the rearview mirror.

Jensen let out a small chuckle, though it was clear his mind was still focused on whatever was coming next. “I think you’ll both like it”, he muttered, his voice softer now, as if he was gathering himself before revealing what he’d been holding back. His thumb traced light circles on your leg, an absentminded gesture that soothed your nerves just a little.

A few minutes later, Jensen turned down a quiet street, lined with trees that cast soft shadows on the road.

He continued down the private, tree-lined road. As the trees thickened, the houses became more secluded, each hidden behind dense foliage, with small, private driveways.

Jensen’s grip on your thigh tightened for just a moment before he turned into the driveway at the very end of the road. The tires crunched softly over the gravel as the car slowed to a stop in front of a beautiful, secluded house. It was large, but had a cozy, inviting feel to it. There were tall trees surrounding it, offering both shade and a sense of seclusion, making it feel like a hidden oasis tucked away from the rest of the world.

You stared at the house, a mix of surprise and awe filling you. It was stunning, with a modern but homey design—clean lines, big windows, and a porch that wrapped around the front, giving it a warm, welcoming feel.

Jensen turned off the engine and exhaled deeply, his hand slipping from your leg as he leaned back in his seat, glancing at you.

“I got the keys yesterday”, Jensen admitted, his voice quieter now. “I haven’t even taken a look inside yet. An old friend of mine did me a favor—said I could come by, take a look, see if it feels right”.

He opened his door, the sound of gravel crunching under his boots as he stepped out. “Alright, kids, let’s get out”, he mumbled, clearly trying to lighten the mood, though the nerves were still there, evident in the way he kept flexing his hands.

You stared at Jensen, still not fully understanding what was happening. “What?”, you mumbled under your breath, feeling slightly out of the loop. Jared’s eyes, on the other hand, went wide with realization. Without a second thought, he stepped out of the car and gave Jensen a rough shove on the shoulder, catching you by surprise.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”, Jared exclaimed, shoving him again, this time with even more excitement.

Jared’s enthusiasm was infectious, and it quickly became clear that whatever Jensen was revealing was big—bigger than you had initially thought. Jared, obviously thrilled at the prospect, looked like he couldn’t believe his buddy was moving back Austin.

Jensen just chuckled softly, sticking one hand into his jeans pocket and raising his other hand in a mock surrender. “I haven’t bought it yet”, he said, his voice calm but tinged with that same nervous energy that had been there earlier. The weight of the moment hung between you all.

You stepped around the car, your heart beating a little faster. “Bought?”, you asked quietly, the confusion in your voice giving way to realization. Jensen was talking about buying this house.

Jensen’s gaze softened when he looked at you, but you could see the nervousness in his eyes. This was a huge step, one he clearly hadn’t expected to take so soon—or at least, not without talking to you first. “Yeah”, he admitted, his voice lowering as he took a breath. “I’ve been thinking about it. Moving back, finding something stable. And this place… I don’t know. It feels right. But I wanted you to see it first”.

Your heart skipped a beat at Jensen’s words. The idea of him moving back to Austin, especially so soon, wasn’t something you’d fully wrapped your head around. And now, standing here in front of this beautiful house, he was asking for your opinion, your involvement in the decision. The weight of it all hit you at once—this wasn’t just about a house. This was about him wanting to build a life with you.

You looked up at him, still trying to process what this all meant. “You really want me to help you decide? You want me to… move in with you?”. The question slipped out quietly, almost as if you were afraid to ask it, unsure if it was too soon to even think about something so serious.

Jensen’s gaze softened even more, and though he was clearly nervous, his determination never wavered. “Yeah”, he mumbled, his voice low but steady. “I can’t buy it until the divorce is finalized, but no matter what happens, I’d love to come back to Austin. To start fresh… With you”.

The sincerity in his voice hit you like a wave, making your heart race. He wasn’t just talking about the house—he was talking about a life, a future, one where the chaos of everything with Danneel and the divorce could finally be behind him, behind you both.

You blinked, glancing between him and the house, the realization settling in. “You really want this?”, you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen nodded, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as he held your hand. “I do”, he said softly, his eyes locked on yours. “I want this for us. I know things are complicated right now, but this… this feels right. I want to build something here. Somewhere that feels like home”.

Your heart swelled with emotions—hope, love, fear, all swirling together. The thought of making such a huge step, of really committing to this new chapter with him, was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. But there was no denying the way your heart responded to his words. You wanted it too, even if the idea scared you.

Jared, standing to the side with his arms crossed, broke the moment with a playful grin. “Man, you’re really going all in, huh?”. He nudged Jensen with his elbow. “But hey, if you’re coming back to Austin, you know I’ve got your back”.

Jensen chuckled, though the nervousness hadn’t fully left him. “I can’t buy anything until the divorce is finalized, but I’m ready to make the move".

You looked back at Jensen, your chest tightening with a mix of emotions. “What if things with Danneel get worse?”, you asked quietly, the lingering fears bubbling to the surface. “What if she makes it harder for you?”.

“No matter what Danneel does, I’m moving forward. I’m not letting her hold me back anymore. I want to come back to Austin, and I want you with me”.

He was choosing you—choosing a life where you were central to his future, despite the uncertainty.

You took a deep breath, the emotions swirling inside you almost too much to handle. Despite everything Jensen had said, the weight of the decision still lingered. You wanted to be absolutely sure, to hear him say it again, to erase any doubts that might still be lingering in the back of your mind.

“Jensen”, you whispered, your voice wavering slightly, “are you really sure? Do you really want me to move in with you?”.

For a moment, he just looked at you, and then, to your surprise, a wide grin spread across his face. He rolled his eyes in that playful way that told you he wasn’t annoyed, just amused by your persistence. “You´re for real right now?”, he asked, his tone light but full of affection. “How many times do I have to say it?”.

He squeezed your hand again, pulling you closer until you were standing almost chest to chest. “I want this, alright? I want you. I want us. This isn’t just some spur-of-the-moment decision”. His gaze softened as he looked down at you, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “I’ve thought about it, and yes, I want you to move in with me. I want to build a life together here. You’re a part of my future, no matter what happens”.

The warmth in his words made your heart race, and for a moment, everything else—the divorce, the uncertainties, the complications—seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Jensen, standing there in front of this house that could very well become your home.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, laughing softly at your own emotions. “Okay”, you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want this too”.

Jensen’s grin only grew wider as he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He kissed the top of your head, murmuring, “Good, because I’m not doing this without you”.

Jared, who had been standing to the side, watching the whole thing unfold with a soft smile on his face, finally spoke up. “Alright, lovebirds”, he teased, clapping his hands together. “Are we gonna check out this house or what? Because I’m dying to see it”.

You both laughed, and Jensen loosened his grip on you, his hand still firmly holding yours as he nodded toward the front door. “Let’s take a look inside”, he said, his tone lighter now, filled with excitement.

And with that, the three of you walked toward the front door, stepping into what could be the start of a new chapter—a home, a future, and a life together.

Jensen led you and Jared through the large front door, and as soon as you stepped inside, the house took your breath away.

The entrance opened into a grand foyer with towering ceilings and polished, dark wood floors that gleamed under the soft, natural light filtering in from the oversized windows. The walls were a warm shade of cream, and the space exuded a modern yet welcoming feel. Above you, a large wrought-iron chandelier hung, casting soft light that filled the room.

Immediately to your right, a formal dining room stood, framed by large archways and floor-to-ceiling windows that let in abundant sunlight. The dining table was modern and sleek, made from rich, dark wood, with plush, cream-colored chairs. French doors led out to the side yard, offering a private outdoor dining space.

The heart of the house was the expansive living room, which flowed seamlessly into the kitchen. This open-concept space had a stunning blend of modern luxury and comfortable design. The living room had towering windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, giving you a clear view of the stunning backyard and the Colorado River just beyond. The focal point of the room was a modern stone fireplace, embedded into a wall of rich wood paneling, and surrounded by a large L-shaped couch with oversized, plush cushions.

Above, the gallery on the second floor overlooked the living room, creating an impressive open space that felt both expansive and connected. The high ceilings, clean lines, and modern furnishings gave the room a sense of understated elegance.

The kitchen was a damn dream. With sleek, custom cabinetry painted in a soft dove gray and expansive white quartz countertops, it was both practical and beautiful. A large island sat at the center, big enough for several people to gather around with its high-top barstools. The island was topped with a waterfall edge, the quartz cascading down the sides in a beautiful, smooth finish. The appliances were top-of-the-line stainless steel, seamlessly integrated into the cabinetry, and there was huge stove, double ovens, and a built-in wine fridge.

The kitchen flowed into a cozy breakfast nook, complete with a round table that looked out through large windows to the backyard.

And what a backyard it was.

Through the oversized glass doors, you stepped out onto a wide stone patio that extended the entire length of the house. There was an outdoor kitchen with a built-in grill, sink, and refrigerator. The patio opened up into an immaculately landscaped backyard. A sparkling pool was the centerpiece, with its sleek, modern design framed by stone and shaded by large oak trees. The pool had a built-in hot tub that flowed seamlessly into the main swimming area, the water cascading over the edges in a gentle, soothing sound.

Near the pool, a stone fireplace sat surrounded by a circle of comfortable outdoor lounge chairs, creating a cozy space for gatherings on cooler evenings. Beyond the perfectly manicured lawn, you could see the Colorado River glimmering in the sunlight. A small path led down to a private pier, where a few lounge chairs and a small dock were set up. It was the perfect place for fishing, launching a kayak, or just sitting by the water, enjoying the peaceful surroundings.

As you made your way back inside, Jensen led you upstairs to the second floor. The gallery overlooked the living room and kitchen below, and the sleek iron railing contrasted beautifully with the rich wood floors. Upstairs, there were four spacious bedrooms, each designed with large windows that brought in natural light. The master bedroom was the best, with a private balcony that offered sweeping views of the backyard and the river. Inside the master bedroom, there was an oversized walk-in closet with built-in shelving and enough space for even the most elaborate wardrobe.

The bathroom was pure luxury, with a deep soaking tub set beneath a large window that looked out onto the treetops, offering a serene view. The large walk-in shower was framed in glass, with modern tile and a rainfall showerhead.

Two of the additional bedrooms shared a bathroom, each with its own vanity area but connected by a shared shower and tub. The fourth bedroom had its own private bathroom, perfect for guests or a teenager seeking a bit of privacy.

Downstairs, there was another guest bedroom with a private bathroom, ensuring that any visitors would have their own space. The laundry room was large and functional, with plenty of counter space for folding clothes, built-in cabinets for storage, and a deep sink. It was tucked away in a quiet corner of the house, making it both convenient and out of sight.

The house was a perfect blend of modern luxury and comfortable living. It felt like a home designed not just for show but for a life filled with love, family, and friends. The balance of open, inviting spaces and private, cozy areas made it ideal for both intimate moments and large gatherings.

Jensen walked behind you as you wandered through the house, your eyes soaking in every detail. His hand rested gently on the small of your back, a reassuring presence as you moved from one room to the next. You could feel his anticipation, the way he waited for your reaction with every step, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

As you reached the spacious living room, you stopped for a moment, taking in the incredible view of the backyard and the river beyond. It was perfect—almost too perfect, like something out of a dream. The kind of house that felt like it could hold so much life, so much love. You turned back to Jensen, and he was already watching you, his eyes searching yours for some kind of affirmation.

“What do you think?”, he asked quietly, his voice filled with a mixture of nerves and hope.

You blinked, your mind racing as you tried to put your feelings into words. It wasn’t just about the house—it was about the life he was offering you, the future he was imagining for the two of you. And that future was starting to look more real, more tangible, with every step you took through this house.

“It’s…”, you paused, trying to catch your breath, overwhelmed by the gravity of it all. “It’s beautiful, Jensen. I mean, it’s perfect. I don’t even know what to say”.

Jensen’s face softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I wanted something that felt right for us”, he said, his hand still resting on your back. “Somewhere we can build a life. And… I wanted you to be part of that decision. I didn’t want to do this without you”.

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice making you realize just how serious he was about this—about you. You turned to fully face him, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you.

Jensen's gaze softened even more, the nervousness giving way to something deeper—an earnest vulnerability. He stepped closer, his hand brushing a few strands of hair away from your face as he spoke, his voice quiet but filled with intent.

“Even though I can’t buy it just yet”, he began, his thumb gently tracing your cheek, “if you like it—if you can see us here—I’ll take a hold on it. I want this place to be ours, but only if you can see it too”.

You felt your heart skip a beat. The house was beautiful, but it was more than just a place—it was a symbol of everything he wanted to build with you. The life you both dreamed of but hadn’t quite dared to fully imagine until now. His words hung in the air between you, charged with the weight of what this meant for your future.

You looked around once more, taking in the expansive living room, the warm sunlight filtering in through the tall windows, the view of the Colorado River in the distance. It was everything you could have imagined, and more. But what made it truly perfect wasn’t just the house itself, but the idea of sharing it with him—building a life here, together.

“I can see us here”, you whispered, turning back to him, your voice thick with emotion.

Jensen’s face lit up, his relief and happiness so palpable that it made your heart swell even more. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and you could feel the tension he had been holding onto melt away.

“Then I’ll make sure it happens”, he murmured against your skin, his arms wrapping around you. “I’ll put a hold on it. This will be our home, I promise”.

You couldn’t help but smile wider at his words, your heart racing with excitement and love. The future suddenly felt less scary and more like a promise—one you were both ready to keep.

As the moment between you and Jensen hung in the air, Jared, who had been lingering quietly in the background, finally decided it was time to make his presence known. He cleared his throat dramatically, stepping into the living room with an exaggerated grin plastered on his face.

“Well”, Jared began, clapping his hands together with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Look at you two, playing house already. I knew I was tagging along for something juicy”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at Jared’s playful tone, while Jensen rolled his eyes, clearly anticipating the teasing that was about to come.

Jared walked around the room, spreading his arms wide as he admired the house. “I mean, this place is ridiculous. I’m talking perfect. You guys will have to fight me to keep me from moving in. I can already see myself in that pool, cocktail in hand. You’ll never get rid of me!”.

Jensen raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Yeah, well, if you show up uninvited, I’ll be sure to have the pool drained”, he teased, earning a chuckle from you.

Jared put a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Oh, come on! That’s no way to treat your future houseguest slash best man slash live-in nanny for the kids”, he joked, winking at you.

Jensen chuckled at Jared’s antics, but the lightness in his laugh was fleeting. You could sense the shift in his mood as the reality of everything else weighing on him began to creep back in. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing between you and Jared before letting out a soft sigh.

“There’s something I haven’t mentioned yet”, Jensen started, his voice a little more serious now. “Danneel’s been talking about moving back to Austin too, once we sell the house in Fairfield”.

You could see the tension in his jaw as he spoke, the uncertainty of the situation hanging in the air.

Jensen glanced at you, his hand finding yours as if he needed that grounding connection. “But.. Even if she doesn’t move back here, though… I’ll figure it out. I’ll move here no matter what. I want to be close to the kids, and to you”, he added, his eyes softening as they met yours. “But if the worst-case scenario happens and she decides to move somewhere else entirely, I’ll find a way to make it work. I’m not going to let her or the situation keep me from living where I want to be, and who I want to be with”.

You felt a wave of relief mixed with the weight of the situation. The fact that Jensen was so determined to move forward, to make Austin home, was reassuring, but you could also sense the strain of it all—the endless negotiations with Danneel, the logistics of parenting, and how it all weighed heavily on his shoulders.

You and Jensen took one last slow walk around the house. The house, with its stunning design and the potential it held for a new beginning, suddenly felt even more significant.

Jensen’s hand remained firmly on your back, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles as the two of you stepped out into the backyard. The sound of the river flowing softly in the distance mixed with the quiet rustling of the trees. The setting sun cast a golden glow across the landscape, making everything feel peaceful for just a moment.

As you reached the edge of the yard, standing by the path that led down to the private pier, Jensen stopped, turning toward you with a contemplative look on his face. He pulled you close to his side, wrapping his arm securely around you as you leaned against him.

“I know it’s a lot to take in”, he murmured, his voice soft. “But I want you to know that no matter what happens, this is where I want to be—with you”.

You looked up at him, feeling the warmth of his words and the sincerity in his eyes. There was still so much uncertainty with Danneel, the kids, and the logistics of everything, but in this moment, all that mattered was the decision you were making together.

Jensen pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment as if he needed the closeness. “We’ll make this work”, he whispered against your hair. “Whatever it takes”.

You nodded, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. “I believe you”, you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his waist as you rested your head against his chest.

Jared, who had been quietly watching from the patio, finally broke the silence with a lighthearted chuckle. “Alright, are we done with the heartfelt stuff? Because I’m getting emotional over here”.

As the three of you walked back toward the car, Jensen kept his arm around you, his presence steady and reassuring. Jared kept a light atmosphere as he teased you both, but there was an unspoken understanding between all of you.

Once you all settled back into the car, Jensen started driving, the familiar sound of the engine humming as you headed back to Jared’s place. The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows on the road, but inside the car, the mood was light.

Jensen glanced at Jared through the rearview mirror as they drove, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “So, you told Gen about me and her?”, he asked, keeping his voice casual, but there was a flicker of curiosity behind it. He wanted to know how much Jared’s wife knew.

Jared grinned in the mirror, clearly enjoying the shift in conversation. “Oh, you mean have I told Gen that you’ve finally got your head out of your ass and found someone who’s way too good for you?”, Jared teased, his tone light but affectionate.

Jensen rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, something like that”.

Jared leaned back in his seat. “Of course I’ve told her”, he said, more seriously now. “She’s happy for you, man. She’s always rooting for you. But you know she’ll want to meet her again”. He nodded toward you with a grin. “Sooner rather than later”. His grin widening as he continued, "Gen knew something was up from the beginning. Right at my birthday party". He gave a knowing glance to Jensen through the rearview mirror, clearly amused by the memory.

Jensen raised an eyebrow, but he already seemed to know where Jared was going with this. "Oh yeah?", he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"Dude, Gen figured it out that night. I mean, come on—since when do either of us invite a random person we met while buying alcohol for a party?". He shot you a wink, his grin widening. "You weren’t just some random guest. Gen clocked it right away, knew there was something going on".

You chuckled softly at Jared’s playful tone, feeling both flattered and slightly embarrassed at the revelation. You hadn’t realized that it was so obvious from the start, but Jared clearly had a knack for reading people, and it seemed like his wife was just as perceptive.

Jensen laughed, shaking his head slightly as he kept his eyes on the road. “I thought I was being subtle”.

Jared let out a scoff. “Subtle? Please. You guys had the whole ‘secret glances across the room’ thing going on. Gen saw right through it”. He paused for a moment before adding, more seriously, “And honestly? She wasn’t surprised. She knew for years that things with you and Danneel weren’t working. It was only a matter of time”.

There was a quiet shift in the car after that. Jensen’s expression softened, and you could feel the weight of those words settle in. Jared wasn’t wrong. Jensen’s marriage with Danneel had been rocky for a long time, and now, as everything was coming to a head, it felt like a natural, if difficult, progression.

Jared leaned forward again, his tone more thoughtful now. “Gen’s always said that you deserve to be happy, man. We’ve all seen how hard you’ve worked to make things right with Danneel, but sometimes… it just doesn’t work out. And that’s okay. The important thing is that you’re doing what’s best for you, and now… well, you’ve found someone who makes you happy”.

Jensen glanced over at you for a brief moment, his hand squeezing yours gently before returning to the wheel. "Yeah", he murmured, his voice low but filled with emotion. "I have".

Jared’s grin returned, and he leaned back in his seat, clearly pleased with how the conversation had gone. “Just don’t screw it up, man”, he teased lightly.

As December rolled into town, the colder morning outside was forgotten in the warmth of your shared bed. You lay on your stomach, feeling the soft sheets beneath you, tangled around your legs, while Jensen hovered above you, his body radiating heat. He was slightly between your legs, his hands gripping the mattress tightly on either side of your head as his lips moved lazily down your bare lower back. His touch was soft but firm, sending tingles up your spine as he explored every inch of your skin.

His hips brushed against your buttcheek, and just as his teeth gently bit down, causing you to giggle softly, the sound of his phone rang, shattering the intimacy of the moment.

Jensen groaned against your skin, his forehead coming to rest against the small of your back as he let out an exasperated sigh. "Of course", he mumbled, the frustration clear in his voice.

You couldn't help but smile, turning your head slightly to glance at him. "You going to get that?", you teased, your voice still breathy from the closeness of the moment.

He huffed, his lips brushing against your back one last time before he lifted himself off you, reaching toward the bedside table where his phone buzzed insistently. He glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing slightly.

"It's probably something that can wait", Jensen said, sounding more annoyed than concerned, his thumb hovering over the decline button. He looked at you, his lips curling into a small, mischievous grin as he leaned down again, his lips ghosting over your shoulder.

You turned your head back into the pillow, chuckling. "Are you sure?", you asked, knowing how quickly things could shift, especially with all that had been going on in his life lately.

Jensen hesitated for a moment longer before finally pulling back again, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder. "Yeah, it's nothing that can't wait", he murmured.

His hands slid back down to your hips, his body resuming its position above yours, the closeness and warmth between you quickly reigniting the spark of intimacy. "Now, where were we?", he asked, his voice low and teasing as he nuzzled the back of your neck, his hips pressing closer to yours.

You giggled softly, your body relaxing back into the moment, the world outside once again fading away.

As the quiet moment stretched on, Jensen's closeness grew more intense. You felt the firm pressure of his arousal against you. His breath was warm against your ear, his groans soft but laden with need as he kissed along your neck, each touch sending shivers down your spine.

Jensen's hands gripped your hips gently, his movements deliberate as he pressed closer. His lips traced a path from your neck down to your shoulder, each kiss deepening the connection that the morning laziness had already fostered.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, seeing in his eyes a mix of affection and desire that mirrored your own feelings.

You bit your lip, feeling a rush of heat as you pressed yourself back against Jensen, your bodies fitting together in a way that felt natural and intoxicating. His soft groans in response made your heart race, the tension between you building with every touch, every movement.

But then, his phone rang again, the sound breaking through the intimacy of the moment like an unwelcome intruder. Jensen groaned in frustration this time, burying his face in the curve of your neck as the phone continued to buzz insistently.

“Seriously?”, he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. He kissed your shoulder before sighing deeply, clearly reluctant to let go of the moment.

You giggled softly, feeling his irritation, but part of you was just as frustrated. “You should probably get that”, you whispered, your voice a mix of amusement and disappointment.

Jensen sighed again, reluctantly lifting himself off you, his hand brushing your back one last time before he reached for his phone on the nightstand. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted from annoyance to something more serious.

He hesitated for a second, his fingers hovering over the screen before he finally answered. "Yeah?", he said, his tone immediately changing, more alert now.

As much as you wanted to stay lost in the moment with him, you could sense the shift. Something was happening.

While Jensen continued talking with his manager, you tried to quietly slip out of bed, swinging one leg over his hips, intending to get up and make some much-needed coffee. You’d spent way too long in bed, lost in each other, kissing, teasing, and now the morning sun was filtering in through the curtains.

But just as you started to move, Jensen’s hand shot out, gripping your thigh firmly. His touch sent a jolt of warmth through you, and you froze in place, one leg still draped over him, the other half out of bed. His hand brushed up to your hipbone, fingers grazing your skin in a way that made your breath hitch. He pulled you gently closer to him, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp as your body followed his lead, your most intimate part mere inches from his face.

Jensen’s eyes sparkled with amusement, a slow grin spreading across his lips as he watched you, fully aware of how flustered you had become. His phone was still pressed to his ear, his voice steady and composed as he continued the conversation with his manager. But his free hand was anything but composed. It moved deliberately, fingers brushing over your hip, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin.

Your heart raced as his thumb began to trace slow circles near your clit, the touch almost too light to be real, yet sending waves of electricity through you. You blushed furiously, your breath catching in your throat. The contrast between the casual way he spoke on the phone and the intimate attention he was giving you sent your mind into a whirlwind of sensation and anticipation.

Jensen's grin widened as he noticed your reaction, his thumb pressing just a little harder, brushing directly over your clit. He kept his eyes on you, his gaze dark with desire, even as he continued speaking in that smooth, calm tone, completely in control of the situation while you were quickly losing yours. The combination of his teasing touch and his playful, confident grin made it impossible for you to think clearly.

Every nerve in your body was attuned to his touch, and as his thumb continued to move in slow, deliberate circles, you could feel your body responding despite the presence of his phone conversation. You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the sheets as you tried to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was a losing battle.

As you hovered over Jensen’s chest, your breath shallow, you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. He licked his lips, his gaze flickering between your flushed face and the intimate space between your legs.

Without breaking eye contact, Jensen dipped his thumb inside you, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes darkening with desire. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp, your body reacting instantly to his teasing.

Jensen’s lips curled into a grin as he watched you, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

His thumb moved with a purpose, circling and retreating in a way that was maddeningly perfect. Each motion was calculated to draw out the moment, to intensify your desire without granting the final release.

As you struggled to maintain composure, the sound of Jensen's voice mingled with the sensations he was eliciting. He continued his conversation with his manager, his tone professional despite the intimate situation. "Yes, I've reviewed the schedule for January", he said, his voice steady. "We need to ensure that the production aligns with my current…. commitments. Can we possibly push the filming start by a week?".

His manager’s response was inaudible, but Jensen's slight nod indicated he was listening intently. "Understood", Jensen replied after a moment. "But let's try to negotiate for a bit more flexibility. It's crucial that the dates don't clash".

Throughout the call, Jensen’s thumb paused occasionally, his attention momentarily splitting between you and his professional obligations. Each pause left you anticipating more, the slow burn of need growing with each second of delay.

"Alright, send me the revised schedule once you've had that conversation", Jensen finally said, concluding the call. As he set his phone aside, his full attention returned to you. His grin broadened, aware of the intense state he'd left you in.

"Sorry about that", he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. "Let´s get to the important thing". His thumb resumed its slow, deliberate dance, pushing you closer to the brink this time, his gaze locked on yours, reading every reaction, every tremor that coursed through you.

"Focus can be a tricky thing, can't it?", Jensen teased, his words a velvet caress that matched the physical ones. His touch became slightly more insistent, promising that he was now fully present, committed to taking you all the way.

An hour later, the morning had settled into a comfortable rhythm. You sat at your small kitchen island, eating your bowl of cereal, the soft clinking of your spoon against the bowl the only sound in the quiet space. Jensen stood nearby, leaning casually against the counter, a mug of coffee in one hand while his other scrolled through emails on his phone. Every now and then, he'd glance at something on the screen, his brow furrowing slightly as he responded to work-related messages.

Despite the quiet, there was an easy, intimate vibe between the two of you. Occasionally, Jensen would lean over toward you, wordlessly opening his mouth as if expecting you to offer him a spoonful of your cereal. You chuckled at his unspoken request, shaking your head but obliging him nonetheless. You scooped up a bit of cereal and brought the spoon to his mouth, which he took with a playful grin.

"You're like a child sometimes", you teased, rolling your eyes as he chewed thoughtfully, clearly enjoying the bite.

"Well, you picked a good cereal", Jensen quipped, his voice casual, though there was a soft affection in his tone. He took another sip of his coffee, his eyes returning to his phone, though you could tell he wasn’t completely absorbed in work—there was still a lightness about him that hinted he was still mentally with you.

"So, anything exciting in your emails?", you asked, resting your chin in your hand, watching him as he scrolled through his inbox.

"Just more scheduling", Jensen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Trying to make sure everything’s set for January when filming starts again. There’s always something". He put his phone down for a moment and leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. "But I’d rather be here with you than thinking about work".

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. It was these little moments that made everything feel so easy and real between the two of you—simple mornings like this, where the world outside the kitchen didn't matter much.

"Well, if you keep stealing my cereal, you’ll definitely be here a while", you joked, pushing the bowl slightly toward him.

Jensen chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "Good thing I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon, then". He took another sip of coffee, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer, the weight of his words settling between you both in a way that was both reassuring and meaningful.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 32

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen fucking ackles #jensen x y/n #jensen x you #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles the boys #jensen ackles x female!reader #his true fate

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crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf · 7 months ago

Text

“Are you hungry or not?”

Crosshair x F!Reader One Shot

Summary:

Prison life is already unfair as it is, but when a clone guard ends up being your solitary warden you may have no choice but to do what ever he says.

WC: 4405- Read on Ao3

*this is just my general "mature rating" specifics:

Content Warning:

Smut. Coercion/Questionable consent, Uneven power dynamic, Unethical Dom Crosshair, Oral (f receiving), Orgasm denial, begging, humiliation (?... sure), Unprotected PiV and creampie, Light restraining, mind games. Rough all around.

Authors Note: I was not able to make in universe swearing work with this one, so FUCK it is. Also, I took all of One Shot Cross's ethic points and gave them to Disgrace Crosshair so now this one is just an utter menace. Hope that helps.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Hours had passed.

Normally, there'd be an orderly with a food tray, then the inquisitors with their scowling guard, but today…

You sprawled on the bunk and looked at the clock in your plain cell and your stomach growled. Hours since the usual meal time.

Are they trying to starve a confession out of me?

It wouldn't help, you weren't an insurrectionist. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Didn't stop them from locking you away. They had no intention of letting anyone suspected of treason see trial anytime soon. Stuck in holding limbo while they questioned you day after day... Till days became months.

But not today.

You jumped as the door swished open without the usual warning clamor of boots or the rattle of the food cart. Bolting upright you turned on your bed to face the door.

A single clone trooper was framed in the doorway holding a tray of food casually in one hand.

This one was odd; Overly tall, slim with narrow features and a shock of white hair. He was a familiar sight, usually standing behind the Lieutenant that was leading the questioning for the day. He was the one that snickered when you suggested your inquisitor eat his own testicles.

The light glinted off the ominous black armor as he paced through the harsh white room and set the tray on the metal table in the middle with a sharp clatter. Then he stepped back, twirling the toothpick between his lips as he observed you,

“Well?”

“Well… what?”

“Are you hungry or not?”

You were, but you eyed the soldier suspiciously,

“Where’s everyone else? Why's it just you?”

He smirked,

“Seems they forgot about you… guess that makes you my problem,”

You weren't sure what that meant, but it looked like the best answer you'd get for now. Standing, you cautiously crossed the few feet to the table and perched on one of the attached metal seats by the tray.

It had the usual: protein gel, fresh piece of fruit, portion of hard grain bread and water… and…a dessert.

That's new…

You eyed the small canister of sweet custard before flicking your gaze to the soldier.

“You… sticking around?”

“Mm”

You picked up the utensils on the tray and poked at the jelly mass that represented most of your daily calories. With only him standing there it felt… awkward.

“If it's just you, why don't you sit?... This feels too… watched.”

It wasn't just the situation. He was watching you. Intently. You could feel his eyes boring into the top of your skull every time you looked down. You offered again,

“Sit.”

“You're in no position to be giving orders…”

…

He sat. Elbows on the table, hands folded under rested chin, eyes… focused on your face.

You gave up trying to eat the undignified nutrient paste under such scrutiny and picked up the stone fruit instead, biting into its soft flesh to fill your mouth with tangy juice that ran down your chin.

He watched.

“Seriously… What are you doing here, Trooper?”

“Commander.”

“Commander trooper.”

“Crosshair.”

You glanced over the tattoo around his eye.

Yeah, that makes sense.

“You still haven't answered me Commander.”

“I already did. They. Forgot. You. Fallen between the cracks.”

“But you didn't?”

His cheeks tinged the most subtle shade of pink. He didn't answer.

“So, now I'm your problem…”

“Indeed. No one will be coming to feed you, No more questions, Just you, this cell… and me,”

There was a growl to his voice that sent a shiver up your spine. You didn't want to guess at what he was implying, though you didn't need to. He stood leaning on his palms against the table top, a devilish look in his eyes.

“Do you want to keep eating, inmate?”

You gulped, taking in his posture, his expression, his eyes boring hungrily into you.

“You're not suggesti-”

“I am.”

“You can't be serious.”

“I am.”

You sat straight, shifting uncomfortably. There wasn't denying you had looked at the soldier before, even had the intrusive thought to ask him to stay behind once or twice… but this…

“This is an abuse of your position, soldier…”

He snatched out, fingers digging into your cheeks as he roughly turned your face up to look at him.

“It's a risk, sneaking food down here, what's a little… mutual benefit? I bring you food, you give me whatever I want,”

He leaned in breath hot against your ear,

“You get to eat… and so do I.”

Your breath caught as an unbidden heat warmed your inner thighs… those long months of isolation making you easy to tease. This was unfair and you bit your cheek in indignation.

“Think about it. I'll be back tomorrow… but if I stick around after that… that's up to you.”

He moved from the table, punching a code into the door and slipping out in a fluid motion leaving you to stew with what might possibly be your second to last meal.

~~~

You sat at the edge of the bunk, leg bouncing in distress as you looked over the dirty tray from yesterday. No one had come for it. The automated lights clicked out and then back on again and no one had come to get the tray. They always came to get the tray.

The door swished open. Crosshair, laden with food, scanning till he saw your jittery form on the bunk.

“Hey, asshole, what's the big idea?”

They can't have really…

But he just shrugged,

“I told you the deal,”

He placed the tray on the table, more carefully than before, and lowered himself to the bench opposite it. Elbows up, chin on folded hands… watching you.

“Eat.”

…

“And if I do?”

His lip twitched into that mirthless smirk again,

“Then I'll take it you've come to terms with your… predicament.”

You stifled a shiver, already feeling naked under his intense gaze.

“Wh-when… how soon… after?”

Your voice wobbled slightly and his eyebrow rose, like he wasn't expecting you to play along so easily. You flushed and turned from his staring.

I can't believe I'm even-

“Tomorrow.”

Your heart fluttered, confusing you, and you turned back to him.

“I'll be back tomorrow… be ready for me,”

He left quickly, leaving you with your conflicted thoughts and lackluster meal.

You could swear this was… anticipation.

Your thighs clenched against the warmth pooling through you.

~~~

Your heart was in your throat. You could feel it, you knew that if you just opened your mouth in the mirror you would see it beating there. So you stared at your reflection with your jaw clenched, hair dripping cold rivlettles down your skin.

You looked at your last pair of clean prison scrubs and wondered what it was gonna cost to get a fresh set from your new clone warden.

Speaking of,

The door swished open, and you looked up to catch his eyes in the open fresher mirror. He was looking bemused over your toweled, dripping visage.

“I said be ready but I wasn't expecting you so… eager,”

You flushed, snatching the scrubs and slipping them on over the towel, dropping the damp cloth once you were properly clothed. He snickered, and you spun back to face him. Crosshair took a measured step towards you but hesitated, turning instead to gesture at the tray that had appeared on the table.

“This… is your half,”

“I'm not exactly hungry, right this second…”

He shrugged, then rushed you. You felt the cold panels of the walls against your back as you were pinned to them.

“My half then.”

“Wait!”

He rocked back, letting you slide out from under him to catch your breath.

“Don't just… come at me like that,”

His hand closed on your wrist, tugging you back around.

“The food is for you, inmate. This,”

He tugged you into him squeezing your ass through the rough fabric,

“This is for me, My pleasure. Don't mistake that,”

You were tossed roughly into the bunk, the matress hitting the back of your knees to buckle them and you sat with a thump. He loomed over you, tugging off his gloves, a dangerous fire in his sharp eyes.

“The only thing you decide is who gets theirs first,”

You trembled, looking up at the man knowing with all assuredness that he was going to take you. You knew it would be rough. You knew from every little intrusive thought you had when your eyes would meet his over some suit shoulder or another the past few months.

…

“Take yours,”

A wicked smile broke his intensity, and he stripped off more armor. You noticed he hadn't brought a gun today… Clever.

His outer shell dropped away, leaving him in his tight black under suit and boots.

“On your knees,”

You made to protest but he caught your jaw, hooking his thumb between your teeth to hold you by your pallet.

“Not your decision, On. Your. Knees. ”

You made a noise in your throat, all you could really manage. He nodded your head for you with a flick of his wrist before releasing you to position yourself, tugging you by your hair when you made to angle your ass to him; instead, he positioned you parallel to the edge. Pressure on the back of your neck and you collapsed, cheek pressed to the sheets and ass high over your knees.

“Perfect,”

He purred. The mattress dipped as he sat behind you, firm hands brushing over the fabric guarding your rump to rest on your pelvis just before the small of your back. Fingers toyed with the hem of your useless scrubs, before slipping into them; feeling your hips, he traced them down your navel till he could feel the heat of you. You gasped as he brushed against the tender lips at the apex of your thighs. He ventured further, dipping his fingertip into the warmth of you to slide the evidence of your arousal back over the petals.

A groan escaped him when he felt how wet you were. Dipping into your again, too shallow, but you wouldn't admit you needed more even as a small moan played across your lips.

“Have you been wanting this?”

You didn't answer, hiding your flushed cheeks against the mattress.

His hands withdrew and the bottoms were yanked down to your knees.

You couldn't see him from this angle, just his legs casually sitting behind your exposed thighs… and his fingers, gripping those thighs hard. You could tell he was looking you over and you flushed even hotter. This was no good, it had been too long…

The muscles of your sex twitched in need, and you could feel slick fluid drip down your heated cunt to fall from your lips onto the sheets. You were growing more sensitive with your increased pulse alone. Not good.

You felt him reach for your wrists, pulling your arms to fold behind your back. He held them like that one handed, and you could feel him shift closer to you, sitting on your calves to pin them, legs draping over yours and face almost even with your raised buttock. You felt his breath stir against your quim and you whimpered.

“Remember, inmate,”

He had sensed your eagerness for what he was possitioning himself for.

“My pleasure, not yours.”

His leg wrapped around your arched back, bringing the distinct feeling of a boot sole against the back of your head. You almost turned to look but your head was pushed back down, ground under his heel. You whimpered again, unable to move with him restraining your body so efficiently with his own.

“My pleasure.”

And then his tongue plunged into you, making you jerk and gasp as the sudden intrusion.

He worked his tongue in and out of your cunt with slow, even drags that had you moaning weakly into the sheet. Groans rumbled through the sensitive skin whenever your walls would clench around his flexing muscle and he’d push deeper, digging his nose and teeth against you as he attempted to reach fully into your depths.

Anytime you jerked too violently his boot would crush you down again, arms tugged tighter together to pull your hips firmer against his face. His lips moved lower, sucking your sensitive bud into his mouth with a whisper of satisfaction that made you squirm. A soft sob choked from you.

He held you tight as he flicked his tongue against your clit, making you jolt and tremble. Your legs began to shake as the mounting pressure started to build up to a crescendo…

And he pulled back, eliciting a pathetic whine from your lips.

“You'll come when I want you to.”

Teeth sank into your ass and you cried out only for it to be muffled by his boot shoving your face into the mattress. Then he was working your cunt again, lapping at the dripping petals to make you gasp.

Torture.

They had sent him to torture you.

The seemingly endless cycle of being licked to an edge just to have him stop cold, lean back and watch as you shook and squirmed for some semblance of relief… it was torture.

You're not sure when you started to beg, but as another climax was yanked from you a choked pleading tore from your throat.

“Please, Crosshair, let me cum!”

Boot. Mattress. Then his mouth back to your folds, lapping hard against your swollen and sensitive clit.

You groaned lustily against the sheet without that pesky dignity from before, he wasn't gonna be able to keep you from going over for long. Every brush, every lick felt like it could be your undoing.

You felt weak, trying to twist your wrists away from his grip but it was useless; his hand closed over them like a vice. Your body had started to shake and wouldn't stop. He pulled away again and you bucked against his hold,

“Krriffff, Crosshair, please,”

He chuckled, drawing his tongue across the length of your slit from front to back making you sob and your pelvis to clench.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want t-to cum… please,”

He pressed his thumb to your entrance with his free hand, adding the smallest hint of pressure to make you moan.

“Be more specific.”

“Please, I want to cum… make me cum,”

It wasn't exactly coherent, the words spilling from you,

He clicked his tongue,

“If you just want to cum you can do that yourself,”

Another jolt of pressure, his thumb pulling your lips open slightly to expose your opening more clearly.

“What. Do. You. Want?”

You whined under his boot heel, trying to wiggle your ass to push against his thumb, desperate for any contact.

“I want you to make me cum, Crosshair, please make me cum! Kriff, please?”

He made a contented noise that rumbled through his chest, sliding his thumb forward to spread your petals, lifting the hood over your clit… and blew.

Your senses exploded, all your muscles going tight at once and he lunged, sucking your button roughly, nipping his teeth against the bundled nerves driving the climax deeper through your brain. You came, rigid against his firm hold, unable to even cry out as your lungs were crushed by your own spasming. Fluid ran down your legs, chased by his tongue. There were sparkles in your vision, your synapsis on fire… and then you were spent, falling limp and gasping against him.

He kissed your ass cheek, then bit it lightly before pulling your bottoms back up and untangling himself from your numb limbs.

Crosshair rose from the bed, stretched, then reached for his discarded armor… confusing you,

“Was that really all you wanted?”

He looked over his shoulder at you, now sprawled prone over the bed, and smirked. A triumphant look danced behind his eyes.

“What else might I want?”

Your gaze roved over his tight muscles, barely hidden under the tight black fabric of his under clothing. Down his shoulders to his hips, the tight buttock and thighs. Your appraisal wasn't unnoticed and he turned slightly, letting you look at him more. His chest, his abs… your eyes darted down to the straining fabric at his groin and a small, needy moan escaped you as your pussy twitched.

“Don't you want to fuck me?”

A slight smile played across his lips, dancing behind his eyes.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Stars yes…”

There was no use denying it. Now that he was here, partially stripped and hard for you there was no way you were letting him leave.

“Fuck me, Crosshair,”

He turned fully towards you, stroking himself thoughtfully through the fabric of his pants.

“I suppose I could fuck you, How ba~dly… do you want me to fuck you, inmate?”

“Badly… awfully, Please take me, Crosshair,”

You ground your hips into the mattress, watching him standing there, stroking himself lazily…so nonchalant…

Damn it…

“Take your close off, inmate.”

He stepped back, leaning himself against the table.

You obediently say up, tugging the hem of your shirt up.

“Slower.”

The command hit you in your core, and your breath came shaky as you, slowly, tugged the shirt up over your breasts, then head… and it was off. Your nipples hardened at the sudden cold air, having dressed too hastily to find under things. Next came the pants, and you hooked your thumbs into the band.

“Stand for those.”

You stood with a wobble, legs still feeling more like jelly than flesh and bone. The waistband slipped down your hips, your thighs, then fell to the floor.

He palmed his covered cock as he took in your nudity.

“Be a good girl and give me a little turn,”

His fingers made a spin motion and you swallowed, waiting for a sense of indignation, an urge to stop this that never came. You obeyed. Turning slowly, letting him see your back and ass, then facing him again.

“Very good… now get on all fours, facing me,”

You flushed, but did as he said, lowering yourself to your hands and knees to look at him from the floor.

“Come here, like that. Crawl to me, sweetheart.”

You balked for the first time in this new routine, flushing a deep red at the humiliating command. He cocked an eyebrow,

“If you don't want to I could always leave…”

You gritted your teeth, knowing you weren't likely to deny anything he asked from this point, and crawled forward. The bare panel flooring was hard against your knees but you closed the distance, coming even with his legs casually leaning against the table.

“Now tell me… what do you want?”

You gulped, your vision completely dominated by his visage poised over you. Relaxed, in control, slowly stroking the outline of his length to tease you more than himself.

“I-i want you to fuck me, Crosshair,”

“You can do better than that… what exactly do you want?”

He gripped himself pointedly through his blacks and your vision blurred with need. Lips trembling, a hint of pleading back in your voice,

“I want your cock…”

“Where do you want it?”

…

“Inside me.”

Flushing, you looked away, his knee nudged your chin to meet his eyes again.

“All together now, from the top…”

“I want you to fuck me, Crosshair, I want your… cock inside of me.”

Your eyes stayed obediently on his, his knee still pressed to your cheek.

“You can be nicer than that,”

Exasperation forced a frustrated sigh from you, causing his eyebrows to raise again and your jaw to clench.

“Please, fuck me, Crosshair… I want your cock inside me… please…”

As the first plea left you a shiver went down your spine, a small thrill from the submissive action. You nuzzled the knee pressed to your chin, forcing his eyes to widen for a brief second.

“If you want it so badly, darling, why don't you just take it then?”

He slid to sit on the bench proper, legs spread wide to either side of you, crotch jutted towards your eager, lustful expression.

“Why don't you fuck yourself on my cock?”

He smirked down, rolling his hips subtly to challenge you into action.

Perhaps he didn't expect you to take the invitation, but as your hands lashed out to hook his waistband, the fasteners pulled open with a sharp snap… he stilled. Elbows on the table behind him, still leaned in a relaxed posture, but frozen in a temporary trance. You tugged the fly the rest of the way open and his heavy cock sprang free, bopping you lightly in the nose making you flinch involuntarily.

This broke the spell as he failed to repress a snort of amusement. You narrowed your eyes at him and he composed himself as well as he could with that glint in his eye.

“Sorry, go on,”

You nipped at the head of his bobbing member making him hiss between his teeth. A hand roughly caught the back of your neck pulling you up off your knees and into his lap.

“I believe I told you to fuck yourself, inmate,”

His free hand grabbed your hip, grinding your bare sex against his shaft for emphasis eliciting a needy groan from your chest.

You decided to comply, tucking your feet over his thighs for leverage, you angled your torso up over him. He rested his arms back on the table once more as you balanced your hands on his shoulders. His length slid along your folds as you moved and you shivered, poised with him resting against your entrance. Rivulets of arousal trickled down his velvety skin to catch in the soft brush of pubic hair nested around its base.

“Well, I'm waiting…”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath counting a heartbeat before opening them again. Meeting his eyes you couldn't help but think his features seemed softer from up here.

Easing your thigh muscles down, you carefully pushed him into yourself, slowly… an inch, then withdrawing, dropping an inch further, making sure he was lubricated with you from base to tip. When he was fully docked inside you ground your hips into him, feeling his hard length pushing deep against your inner limit and you moaned in satisfaction.

Finally,

He was biting his lip, keeping his reactions to a minimum as you began to move on him. Desperate little hops with your hips to bounce yourself. He seemed to enjoy you doing all the work, eyes dropping to watch how your breasts bobbed in front of him. A sliver of his tongue darted across his lips but he didn't move, didn't react, as he watched you ride him, desperately using him to get your self off.

You were frustrated, wanting it harder but knowing better than to ask for help. That wasn't what you were told to do. So you rolled your hips, bucking against him to find that bliss yourself.

Leaning back, you put your hands on his knees, tightening your pelvis and putting more power into your hips. His calm veneer broke and he grabbed onto your hips, keeping you anchored on his shaft as climax started to cloud your vision. Your motions and breathing became erratic, taking his guiding force on your hips as permission to let go you ground against him with reckless abandon, hurtling yourself over the edge,

“F~u~...”

Your voice cut out with a strangled cry and he pulled you down on him, sheathing himself in you with an ecstatic groan as your muscles convulsed and clamped down on his shaft.

He lifted you up, carrying you back to the bunk, plunking your ass against the mattress before pushing you over to lay on your stomach.

Your arms were grabbed and held behind your back once more as he angled himself back into your warm cunt. His weight dropped onto your back and you were pressed flat under him. His hips started to pump into you, quick and sharp as he grew comfortable with your shape under him and he started to ramp up the force.

A vulgar clapping of skin echoed through the room as he pounded into you, grunting from exertion as he took you hard. His free hand turned your head to look over your shoulder at him before dropping to grip your neck.

“Do you like this, sweetheart?”

All he got for an answer was a series of sharp, high pitched gasps from the rapid snapping of his hips.

“Getting wet for me like that…”

He groaned in his throat, grinding deeply into you making you sob in pleasure.

“You like the thought of being my cock slave?”

“Yes… kriffs sake yes…”

“That's right.”

Your breathing went ragged as he pushed himself up on his knees, pulling your waist with him. He moved his arms and hips in tandem to pump his full length in and out of you and you broke, orgasm driving your walls to slam around his thrusting rod until he couldn't take it any more himself.

He pulled your shoulders up, arms sliding around your chest and hand cupping your jaw hooking fingers into your mouth. You were held against his chest as his cock twitched violently inside of you, a throb for every spurt of seed he shot into your warmth.

He nuzzled into your neck breathless, tone softer than it had been,

“You were so good for me, darling… so good…”

You couldn't answer around his fingers, so you sucked them, sliding your tongue between them as he groaned.

~~~

The last piece of his armor latched on with a click as you dried your hair, thinking about this new arrangement as you looked at the food still on the table… you weren't sure you could complain. Well you could but…

You glanced over at him, adjusting something at his wrist before he looked up, finding you fully dressed as well.

…

“Alright… come on then,”

“What? C’mon where?”

He paced over to the door, tapping at the panel.

“You’ve been released. The doors been unlocked for days,”

“Wha-”

As the realization hit you anger washed through your senses and with out thinking you grabbed the fruit from the tray, chucking it at his head.

He caught it deftly and with a smirk in your direction, took a big bite out of the flesh, letting the juice run down his chin.