a girl in this messed up world

[inluvwjack]

9 straight hours of Jack Abbot and Pope Cody smau

[j-drysdale]

my moon, my man

PAIRING: jack abbot x younger!reader

MY MOON, MY MAN: you finally accept that you want jack.

GRAYCEE SPEAKS: ugh sorry I keep disappearing :( I'm hoping to start posting more consistently!!! I miss writing and interacting with everyone

JOIN MY TAGLIST!

TAGLIST:

@cosmosnkaz @xoxoloverb @sportsnightnut @ilocuras24 @flwer555 @imstressed17 @escapingrealityalways @defneedtherapy @malindacath @gonzalezaa @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @momdancingtomcr @bigdaddddyyyyy @armies-whxre1 @17th-sector @gf4lwt @p0pve @olivia21blunt @angelfrombeneth @archxve @maeverrrb @lazypostfandomer @localsams @lobotomygrl @nxymoretti @spacereader31 @sunbonesss @leaheclipse @diasnohibng @sammiib444 @cherryybombbthoughts @plumpsugarplum @maggzer @goldnhabitx @watercolorskyy @agirlinherownmessedupworld @prettywheenicry @thewillowarchive

[primafawnagirl]

I feel like Lana del Rey when she gained weight and only real bitches still fucked with her

[lotuspetalss]

First post a little nervy

[yearsarewatchingyou]

Puppy Love: Ranch Hand!Dodge Mason x Reader AU

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Summary: Being the newcomer in town, Dodge Mason needs to find somewhere to work. Your father, who has suffered a stroke, offers him a job as a ranch hand on your ranch that's slowly failing. He catches your eye, but your father would never approve, right? Tensions grow between you until neither of you can hold back what you feel.

Tags: Dodge Mason x reader, reader's last name is McAlpine, no use of Y/N, fluff, soooo much fluff, slowburn, dodge folds under no pressure, maybe ooc?, Dodge opens up to you, Dr. Whitaker (the pitt) is his brother, Dodge is so bf in this, NO PANIC AU!!!

SMUT! tags 18+: smut at the end, unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f! receiving), mutual masturbation?, mentions of male masturbation, missionary, cowgirl, you ride him with the cowboy hat on, aftercare is included

WC: 8k

Notes: For the 3 Panic fans out there </3 I miss my man. I really enjoyed writing this and listening to 80s love ballads and soft rock. This is my first "long" fic. Proofread by Grammarly.

Inspired by @agirlinherownmessedupworld bc we all need more dodge mason fics!

☆Ribbon by @cursed-carmine

✦ . 　⁺

You can still smell the rotting peaches. Despite the other events of that evening, it was only the sick pervasive sweet that flooded back in memories. Ambulance. The squish of fallen peaches under your feet. Gasping. The inhalation of perfume. The yelling. Fruit stuck to your shirt. 

Perhaps if your father hadn't tried to pluck the last of the season's harvest off the peach trees, he would have never fallen off a 10-foot ladder, and his brain would have never bled. Perhaps if you had insisted on helping him, instead of catching up on your stall mucking, it would have been you who the rusty ladder collapsed under. 

And though it would've been sad, life would have continued as normal. 

He kept the place up and running. The ranch was a staple in Fairstate, Texas. A tourist attraction right off the interstate, a trustworthy horse dealer for local rodeos, a peach vendor for Houston farmers' markets. McAlpine Ranch is owned by your father, Richard McAlpine. He inherited the 200 acres of land from his great-grandfather, invested in it alongside his father, and though anxious to continue the family ranch lineage with a son of his own, he only has you, his daughter. 

Your mother died during childbirth, robbing the McAlpine family line of ever continuing. Despite the fact, your father never remarried or tried to get a son. He believed he could keep the ranch up all by his lonesome, and when you got old enough, show you the ropes. From the moment you could walk, he had you milking cows and throwing tufts of hay into stalls. 

A daughter and pop business. It was enough. 

Until it wasn't.

The 10-foot fall snapped his lower back in half, paralyzing him from the waist down. The stroke had been minor, said the doctors, only partially impairing his vision in his left eye but all other senses intact. All he needed was a back surgery. Just a little back surgery. 

And one surgery turned into two, and two turned into seven open procedures to re-align his fragmented spine. Whatever savings the ranch accumulated had been poured into never-ending medical bills and hospital stays.

Unable to afford help and becoming an in-home nurse for your father, the ranch was neglected. Tourists stalled at the front gates that read "currently closed for the fall", quarter horse dealers left hundreds of messages on the answering machine, and peaches lay mushy, rotten on Fairstate soil. 

As your father's condition improved from bedbound to wheelchair bound, you began to pick up the ranch the best you could. You dropped out in your senior year to build the ranch up from zero. Winter was doable but with spring approaching, foals were coming and crops needed to be tended to. You couldn't do it alone. 

You confided in your father, who now handled all the logistics of the ranch from his bedroom desk, about the abundance of work you had ahead of you. He just nodded and claimed he'd figure something out. 

˖ ࣪⭑

Spring rolled around—peach buds blooming, bees buzzing over crops, and horses and cattle heavy with their offspring. You were working on training your shiny brown and white Quarter Horse, Penny. With her reins loose in your hand, you guided her around the edge of the open pen and calmed her when she bucked at the bit in her mouth. 

You were snapped out of your usual routine when you heard the metallic screech of the ranch gate opening and the crunch of gravel under wheels. Hm. You fastened the horse to the fence post and headed toward the ranch house.

Your father met you outside, looking rather well-dressed in blue jeans and his old denim jacket instead of his sweatpants and rehab shirt. He wheeled himself off the porch to meet the car—an antique cream colored charger— and meet the man who got out of the driver's seat. Probably another old quarter horse dealer waiting for his dibs on a new foal. 

However, the man (or rather, boy) who stepped out of the car was dressed in work wear, a light wash denim shirt, and worn Levi's with gloves in the back pocket. He was a mousy-looking brunette, lanky but strong enough to get the job done, with a deep-set frown on his face, even has your father happily welcomed onto Mcalpine Ranch.

He caught eyes with you, and you froze, momentarily, but still recognizable. You smile and wave at him. 

"Welcome to paradise," you say, your hands shoved in your back pockets as you make your way down the porch steps toward the two men.

The Texas sun was beating down on your shoulders, and you had to really squint to see him through the rays. You extend a hand and introduce yourself. 

He takes it firmly, "Dodge Mason." 

Your father spins around in his chair to face both of you, "Mr. Mason, here is our new ranch hand. You told me you could use a little 'round here, and who is better than our very own cowboy!" 

Your father claps him on the lower back, and Dodge clenched his jaw with a tense smile.

Your father continues, "This here young man does Rodeo and Bronc riding, yes?"

"Yes, sir," he gave a curt nod, scratching the back of his neck. 

"Knows his way 'round a ranch. Can teach tourists a little barebacking. Good, fine, working young man, I see here. Sugar, why don't you show Dodge where he'll be staying?"

You cock your eyebrow, "wait. He's staying here?" 

"Well, that's always part of the deal, ain't it? You need help all season around, and Dodge here just got in town and needs a nice place to stay, is all. He'll be staying in the spare room up there." 

You shoot your dad a 'we'll talk later' look before turning on your heels, expecting Dodge to follow. 

The ranch house was a dingy white with dark spruce shutters barely on their hinges. The wrap-around porch led to a sliding glass door that marked the entrance to the kitchen and dining room. The house was bare, clean with raw wood scrubbed until splintered, floors shiny and wax-treated, and clean linen baskets lounging in the hallway. The place seemed frozen in time. Pictures hang lifeless on the plaster walls, pictures of your late mother and grandfather. 

The stairs have a horrible creak when you walk up them. Meaning to get them fixed, but without the means. Dodge's bedroom, the spare guest room that hadn't been touched since your mother last cleaned it, shared a wall with yours. 

"You might want to open a window. It's dusty," you cleared your throat as you opened the door.

"Thanks," he tossed his duffel bag on the full-sized mattress. 

He took a look around at the bleak surroundings. White blank walls, an empty bookcase except for a Bible, a dark oak desk in the corner under the window, and sheer curtains.

"Is that all you got?" You nod to the bag on the bed, "expect more from a guy that's moving in for 6 months." 

"That's all I got," he shrugs, "just a couple of pairs of work clothes. My hat."

"Well. Make yourself at home. I usually cook something up at 6."

He nods, "So, when do I start working?" 

"I'll show you around the ranch. We have 8 quarter horses, half of which are expecting in a few weeks. I also need tending to the cows and the pigs. And honestly— you'll be doing a little bit of everything," you tap your foot against the rustic wood floor, "hope my pa is paying you fine." 

"He is," he states, unbothered, swiping the dust off the windowsill. 

"Good," you smile, "I could use some extra help around here."

˖ ࣪⭑

It's been 4 weeks since he's been at the ranch. As much as you'd hate to admit, he's good at what he does, and he's pretty much acclimated to the schedule. He's in charge of the ranch maintenance and the animal care, which leaves you to the horse training and peach business. 

It was a Sunday afternoon. The air smelled like buds, hay bales, and old leather. You hummed to yourself as you busied yourself with slicing lemons and peaches. The Texan sun was unforgivable, and the heat was ramping up in late springtime, making it the perfect time for a cold drink. 

You gave one glass to your father and went on the pursuit to find Dodge. He's found a way to disappear on the ranch, tucking himself in corners and quiet places like a church mouse. You checked the stables, the 10 pens, and the pig slop trays. No sign of life.

You heard a grunt come from the barn. With further investigation, you found him suspended 15 feet in the air on an old wooden rafter, repairing the supports. Pencil tucked behind his ear and a nail tucked between his lips as he aligned the crooked pieces, he was laser-focused. 

"Dodge! How the hell you'd get up there?" 

He pointed to a second-story ledge and a ladder. It sat precariously on the edge that dropped onto dry dirt and hay. Unbelievable. He hammered the nail into place and returned the hammer to his tool belt before returning his gaze to you. More specifically, the ice-cold glass of lemonade dripping condensation on your fingers. 

"Is that for me?" 

"Surprise, surprise. I'm not bringing it to you, though."

"Wasn't expecting you to," he groaned as he lifted himself upright on the support rafters.

The support rafter creaked under his weight as he jumped from the roof to an equally as dangerous landing with the ladder. You wince as he moves over the loose structure back down the ladder. 

He wipes the dust and cobwebs off himself before taking the drink out of your hands and taking a long long gulp of the lemonade. 

He cleared his throat and wiped the back of his mouth. 

"That's really good." 

"Thanks, it's my mom's recipe."

"Well, she makes a..." he catches a breath," a—uh, mean lemonade." 

'I heard she used to, yeah." 

Oh. He hands you back the empty glass and shoves his hands in his pockets. The silence was palpable. 

"She died when I was a baby. When she gave birth to me. It's no big deal." 

"Well, it's definitely not a small one either, y'know?" He said before walking behind you to pick up a nail or two that had fallen from the rafters. 

"Spare the sympathies," you sighed as you turned to face him. 

"Noted," he nodded before his gaze flickered to your glass of lemonade, "you plan on finishing that?" 

You roll your eyes before handing him the glass, "Put it back in the house when you're done." 

"Yes, ma'am."

"And don't kill yourself up there," you point to the unstable structure that is the barn, "I need you for the rest of the season." 

"I'll be alright. Thanks for the drink. Needed it out here." 

"Can't have you dying of heat stroke, now can I?" 

˖ ࣪⭑

The nights in the ranch house were now times for storytelling. Your father—now confined to the 4 walls of the ranch and 200 acres of Texas wild— found Dodge the perfect listening ear he'd been needing. He'd talk long-winded and winding tales of his past: how he met your mother, his time as a ranch hand in Tennessee, how he used to be the best damn bull rider in the circuit. 

You three all sat at the table, chairs squeaking under every shifting weight. Your father sat at the end of the table, plucking at the potatoes you'd roasted and fresh ribs from the pig Dodge had butchered that morning, rambling on about his circuit days, not a care in the world about the mess on his hands as he flung them around, explaining how he got bucked off mid competition.

"I mean—I mean you shoulda seen it, man!" He slapped Dodge's shoulder, which tensed at the contact, "I flew up in the air then bout a mile away from the ground. Then-BAM! boy...I was out cold. Next thing I know, I'm in the hospital being wheeled by an angel."

"Wow, you were that close to the pearly gates?" Dodge had said before chewing on some of his food, clearly appeasing him by listening. 

"Nah, Nah. The angel was this pretty girl's mama. Boy, was she a looker! A real looker. I was flirting the second I could start moving my jaw."

That made him huff out a real belly laugh that shook the whole house. He took a breath, "Crazy bastard, I was asked for her number. She said no, obviously. I kept finding crazy ways to get back in that emergency room...crazy, I'll tell ya. Finally, she let up on me...got married, and I got a real angel now."

His smile fell a bit before turning his attention to you, "but at least I got something to remember her for. You look just like her. Spitting image"

"You remind me every day, don't you?" You look down at your plate, pushing the potatoes to one side of the plate to the other. 

"Talk just like her, too. Crazy, innit?" 

"Yep," your voice came out dull. 

He cleared his throat and wiped his hands on a napkin. Thankfully, he turned his attention to Dodge, who was trying to remain as still and silent through the whole interaction you were having, and took a deep breath.

"Dodge! I swear I musta knew your daddy back in the day in Tennessee. He was the best damn rider I've ever."

Dodge's brows furrowed, and he hastily swallowed his food before speaking, "Really?"

"A Mason..a bastard with an ego, I'll tell ya. Damn good rider...made me miss the final"

"Hm. Sounds like him."

Your father goes on rambling again until dinner is over. You collected the plates and helped your father up the stairs and into his room for the night, sorted his nightly pills, and locked the wheels to his chair. When you made your way back down the stairs to finish cleaning up, you found Dodge standing at the sink washing the dishes. 

"What are you doing? I got em," you tried to shoo him away from the kitchen sink, and he brushed you off.

"I can wash dishes, y'know." 

His sleeves were rolled up, leaving his forearms wet with soap suds sliding down them. You folded your arms and watched as he made it through 2 plates before you jumped into action to help him in *some* way. 

You both stood by the sink; He'd wash a dish, and you'd rinse it and dry it off with a towel.

"You don't have to do this," you began to explain as you busied yourself with drying a lemonade glass.

"I gotta earn my keep, don't I?" he whispered, looking down at your shorter form, "i don't mind washing a few dishes."

"It's not just the dishes, Dodge. It's— I don't know. You do a lot. And I'm not used to..."

"To the help?"

"Yeah. To the help."

"Well, good thing I don't mind helping."

You huffed a sigh, absentmindedly wiping the stubborn smudged spot at the bottom of the glass, lost in thought.

He plucked the glass from your hand and set it down on the counter beside you. He turned to face you directly, "you hear me? I don't mind helping...I like it." 

You stand there with the rag hanging uselessly in your hand. You blink and nod, "yeah, I got. Sorry. Just—"

"It's okay. I'll clean up. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow." 

You give him a tired smile, squeezing his shoulder, before heading back up the stairs to your room.

"Night, Dodge."

"Night." 

You could hear the faint chattering of dishes and chairs being straightened as you brushed your teeth for the night. You had taken a shower, changed into a set of old linen pjs, and put your hair into two braids. 

As you were putting in your second braid into your hair, Dodge barged into the bathroom. He was locked, frozen for a moment, his attention glued to your hair free from the confines of your training bun and your smooth skin underneath the thin fabric of your pants. His eyes caught up to his brain, and he yanked his attention from your pajama-dressed body to...honestly...anything that wasn't you. 

"God, uh, sorry, thought you had gone to bed already," he stammered.

"It's fine. I'll finish up in my room." 

"Yeah, okay. Sorry—again," he grimaced in embarrassment as you slid past him in the doorway. 

He hastily clicked the door shut behind him, and the shower came on moments after. 

˖ ࣪⭑

The next day, you had made breakfast at the crack of dawn and prepped your McAlpine pick-up truck for your day at the farmers' market in the city. You hoisted 20 full crates of peaches into the back of the truck and secured them down with a tarp and rope. 

You crossed paths with Dodge as you were putting the last crate in the back of the truck. He was dressed up. Well, not totally dressed up fancy, but in a nice denim button-up and leather cowboy boots. A cowboy hat. Much different than the dingy t-shirts and dusty jeans you were so used to seeing him in. You asked him where he was running off to this early in the morning, that required an ironed shirt. He scoffed and relinquished an answer.

"A rodeo competition. Just outside of Houston"

You raised your eyebrows, "Did you tell my pa?"

He chuckled, "Yeah, he's uh…a bit bummed he can't make it, y'know? Relive the glory days" 

"Hmm...it just happens that I'll be just outside of Houston today, too." You nod to the peaches in the back of the truck, "vendor day." 

"Well, if you get a break, feel free to stop by. I compete around 2."

"I'll consider it, cowboy," you bit back a grin at his lopsided hat. 

He shakes his head and tips his Stetson towards you as he gets into his car. You fought the smile that crept onto your lips as he pulled off down the dirt road. The thud of a peach rolling out of the truck knocked you out of his little trance and reminded you of the task at hand. 

Get a grip!

The farmers' market was an 18-acre labyrinth of fruits, vegetables, and food vendors. You set up your stand that had hand-drawn peaches on the sign and a bright red sign that read, "McAlpine Peaches: Texas Freshness!" You sorted through money as people bought bushels of ripe peaches. Kids took baggies of pre-cut ones, and others took testers on toothpicks. You had whipped up a few batches of your mom's lemonade to sell at the market as people walked around in the scorching heat.

By 1 p.m., you'd sold out of everything and made about $1,100, which would cover horse feed for the month. You wandered around the farmers' market, treated yourself to a Mexican taco truck, and got a few tacos for Dodge. 

The rodeo arena was congested with sweaty men and cowboy hats. You felt self-conscious in the stands as he wedged yourself between too old-head motorcyclists with brown cowboy hats. You had forgotten your hat and had on tennis shoes and a floral summer dress. You looked like you were going to luncheon and not a regional rodeo. It wasn't your first rodeo, but it sure as hell looked like it. 

You sat with legs crossed with a bag of tacos and two to-go cups of peach lemonade on ice as you waited for Dodge's part. He was 5th on Bronc riding, according to the pamphlet handed to you at the entrance and the booming announcement of the arena host. 

Your breath caught in your throat as you saw him emerge from the crowd of contestants near the bucking chute. Boos rumbled from the crowd. 

"Let's show some love for...Dodge Mason! New to Region 9 from Carp, Texas. Bronc Riding, 8 seconds on the clock, with our lovely bucking bull Miss Tilly!” 

You would've thought Dodge was a completely different person from the lanky ranch hand who worked on McAlpine for a month. This Dodge Mason was cool, collected, and confident as he settled bareback on the 2000-pound bull, one hand on the rein. Sleeves rolled up, and the brim of the hat pushed low. 

A horn blared. And the bull took off around the dirt area. 

The Miss Tilly bull was relentless as it kicked and leaped around the dirt. Despite the wild, harsh movement of the bull, Dodge hung on with a hand looped around the reins and another keeping the hat atop his head.

A second horn blared, and the crowd roared. The two old heads whoop and holler for this new guy in the circuit. Finally, a young man who knows how to handle a Bronc ride, they claimed. You couldn't help but cheer along with them. 

"A clean 100 pointer from Dodge Mason! 8-second mark. First round"

Dodge jumped from the bucking bull and slapped it back into the holding pen, where it stirred restlessly for another victim. Dodge shook it off and waited for his next 2 rounds. 

The next two rounds follow with similar events. The second one he lasted 6 seconds with a decent hold before getting kicked off. You hissed at the impact. The third, he redeemed himself, holding on for a long 15 seconds before jumping onto the kicked-up Texas dirt. 

You scream as the announcer calls him out for 1st place, leaping to your feet and clapping. The one greasy-haired motorcyclist chuckles at you, pointing to a sweaty Dodge Mason. 

"Is that your boy, Missy?" His voice leapt over the commotion, rough with decades of cigarette use and bad choices.

"Uh—no! Just a—uh" you stammer before Dodge's gaze catches yours, and his mouth quirks into a lazy smirk as if he'd known you'd come all along. 

"Well, your friend is a real good Bronc rider," he says before turning to the next contestant entering the ring and spitting out some chewing tobacco. 

You make it down the stands to the bottom, where Dodge stands amongst the crowd of other roughed-up cowboys. 

"Dodge!!" you pant out of breath from the fucking stairs, "you did great out there!"

The shadow obscured his face as he looked down at you, hands stuffed in the back pocket of his jeans, denim shirt partially unbuttoned. He licks his lips before he speaks.

"Thanks. Won the belt," he adjusted the gold belt, "guess this means I'm ready for the big leagues again, hm."

"Uh, yeah. You're totally hardcore. I mean, you were killing it out there. Perfect score first round?" You cringe internally at the praise you're spewing at him, "yeah...uh...Good job!" 

He just smiled before pointing at the long forgotten bag of tacos and cup of lemonade, "What's in the bag?"

"Oh! Just thought you'd be hungry, is all." You thrust the bag toward him.

He takes it gingerly and peers inside, "I'm starving. I feel like I could pass out. Tacos sound amazing," and he holds up the lemonade, "can't have me dying of heatstroke, hm?" 

"I thought you'd like some." 

"I'd love some. Thanks for this. You really didn't have to—"

"Least I could do," you shush him, "when are you getting out of here?"

"Well, I still have to collect my prize and other stuff. Probably another hour or two."

"I'll see you back at the ranch." 

"See ya. Thanks again for the lunch," calls out and tips his hat to you. 

You no longer try to hold back the smile on your lips as you make your way back to your pick-up truck to drive home. The animals still needed tending to, even on vendor days. 

Dodge came home later that evening, still quietly riding that buzzing hum from the earlier adrenaline. He hung his hat on the hook in the foyer and kicked off his shoes. Your father was quick at prying every bit of information about the rodeo from him, and Dodge entertained his hungry old mind. 

It was nice listening to Dodge talk about something he was passionate about. Your dad hung onto every word that came out of his mouth. He damn near fell over backwards in his wheelchair when Dodge showed him his gold belt. 

"First place!" He exclaimed, "ain't you just making an old man proud!" 

Dodge's cheeks flushed a light red. 

"Shit. Must o' inherited it from ya daddy back in Tennessee. Damn good rider he was. You might be even better, and I ain't even seen you ride. Bareback too! Sweet Jesus"

You giggled at your father's enthusiasm and Dodge's embarrassment at the older man's compliments. He just thanked him. What else could he do? 

Dodge eventually made it back upstairs to take a shower and wash off the day's rodeo grime. It was midnight by then, and you were deliriously tired when you accidentally opened the door on a freshly washed Dodge Mason, clad with only a towel wrapped around his waist, with wet brunette hair stuck up in every direction, and—are those abs? He looked at you in confusion. 

You shut the door just as fast as you opened it. "Sorry! I'll just uh— use my pa's shower!" 

Curse your shared bathroom.  

You happened to just take a shower in your father's bathroom and work around his plastic shower chair and try not to think about the delicious sight of Dodge...your half-naked ranch hand who....was your ranch hand. 

You made it back to your room, fresh and smelling of cheap floral notes of Dove bodywash. You could faintly hear Dodge rustling around in his room, and his headboard bangs against your wall where your bed is. The motion of him getting into bed usually made a small thump sound that you've grown used to. Though there was a sound that you weren't used to coming from the other side of the thin wall.

Is that...groaning? Is he...? What the fuck. 

You lie there, still as a rigid corpse, as you listen to faint, occasional sounds drift over to your side of the room. A breathy sigh there; a low groaning here. An almost imperceptible wet sound. It was gross. It was...well...almost kinda gross. 

It lasted all of 5 minutes before it became only the sound of crickets and the neigh of horses and their foals. Your fingers debated drifting under your linen pajama set before you put your hands over the covers.

Get a grip!

This should not be affecting you, you think. He's just...a normal guy...taking care of normal needs. Who is definitely not your totally talented, sexy, and helpful ranch hand. 

He is still your ranch hand. 

Fuck. 

˖ ࣪⭑

You never mentioned that night. 

3 more weeks had passed, and the height of summer was finally in Texas, which meant relentless heat and endless tourists coming to see the highly anticipated Mcalpine Ranch. You trained the horses for the upcoming rodeo and tourists rides across the ranch. The prize Dodge won from his rodeo comps was a three-thousand-dollar cash prize. A check that he left on your father's desk one afternoon. The money went toward fixing up the ranch's appearance. New signs and a main gate repair to make it less rusty. The McAlpine Ranch was back to its glory days. 

Early in the morning, around 4 am, before the crowd came in at 9 am, you lingered around the outside of the horse stalls mixing up their feed. You were quite behind on your ranch chores due to the overabundance of peaches this year. Dodge was inside the stalls brushing down Penny, your main mare for tourist riding. You could see through the cracked double barn doors, Dodge rubbing her snout gently, cooing something in her ear before patting her shoulder. He began to talk freely, assuming that no one was up or around to hear him. 

"How are you doing this morning, sweet girl?" He huffed as he picked up her back right hoof to clean out any debris left in it from yesterday's rides. He talked as he scraped the dirt off, "Everybody else is sleeping but not you and me, huh?" 

He moved to the left hoof, " Your mama's been treating you good these past couple of weeks. A few more sugar cubes and you're gonna get fat, Penny. I keep trying to tell her." 

The horse huffed in response, whipping flies away with her tail. 

"Yeah...good girl," he pats her hind leg before moving to the front of Penny to get the front hooves, "I keep trying to tell her. God, she's something else...really something else. You think so, Penny?" 

The horse swats her tail again, "You're a horse, what do you know about this stuff? Nothing at all." 

He sighs as he rebraids the mess of Penny's shiny brown mane.

"You think she me likes me, Penny?" He asked quietly to the horse huffing and munching on a patch of hay.

"You're all done, sweet girl" he runs a hand over her shiny coat before digging in his back pocket for a sugar cube, "don't tell her I said any of this, okay?"

The horse took the sugar cube happily from his palm and he reached for another, "just between you and me, Penny" 

You perked back up, shocked from the entire interaction, as he started to make his way outside where you stood. You scurry back off to the house as quietly as you can, praying he didn't see you. 

Do you think she likes me?

˖ ࣪⭑

One evening, a week later, your father had his monthly rehab weekend where he'd go for his physical therapy and other doctors appointments all in one weekend. That left you and Dodge alone on the ranch Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. It was Friday. 

Dinners were very awkward and quiet without your father telling stories or joking around. You sat across from him still, eating a roasted lemon pepper and veggie recipe you'd found online, trying ignore the way he'd stare at when he thought you weren't looking. 

You decided to try your hand at conversation. 

"How have the new foals been?"

"Good. The tourists?" 

"Uh a little annoying but fun. The kids are always fun to teach."

"You're always good with the kids."

"Yeah. I remember my first time on a horse. My pa had taken me to a state fair. I was 6 years old and terrified on top of a little pony." 

"Can't even imagine you being scared of horses. You're natural with Penny. A good rider too."

"It took some warming up. Lots of pratice at this ranch with my aunties and pa. Remember the first time you rode a horse?" 

The clock ticked on the wall as he checked and swallowed the rest of his bite. He smiled, blue eyes looking up right, trying to recall the first time. He looked so comfortable and relaxed—hair tousled from the constant on and off of his hat throughout the day, a small smile on his lips, sleeves rolled up, and his chin propped up against his hand as he pondered— you couldn't help but lean in for the answer. 

His eyes locked with yours. He started slowly, "I think...I was about 8 or 9. My first time at one of my dad's rodeos. He had one and put me on the back of a stallion, and it just took off. I couldn't hold on, so I fell off and got this pretty bad scar."

You wince in mock sympathy, "That's something for a first time. Do you still have it?" 

"Yeah its on my stomach. I landed hard on a discarded horseshoe nail with resulted in a nice round of tetanus shots and this memory."

You watch intently as he lifts the bottom of his black t-shirt, revealing a happy trail, a toned abdomen bordering a six pack, and a discolored jagged scar on the left side about 3 inches. 

"Poor little Dodge"

He dropped the shirt, much to your dismay, and rolled his eyes, "It was 10 years ago. Sometimes it still kinda stings, don't know why."

"Let me take another look," you say as you get from your chair and go over to where Dodge is sitting.

His brows furrowed in confusion, but he obliged and lifted his shirt to show you the scar.

"Can I touch?" 

"Right after I told you it stings...sure," he shrugged before his breath hitches as your fingers ran down his old scar and his abdomen, "uh. Yeah, it's...pretty ugly...and—"

You cut him off with your lips against his. He froze at the sudden heat of the kiss. After a moment, he melted into the kiss and pulled you closer to his lap. You ran your fingers through his messy hair and ran your hands down his strong shoulders. You leaned in when he pulled away from your needy lips. 

He was breathless with pupils blown wide, "uh—we shouldn't be...be doing this at all. You— I—"

"Dodge, please shut the fuck up and kiss me," you groaned. 

He couldn't say no to that. 

He kissed you back, hard and desperate, no longer holding back the feelings that had festered for a month. He picked you up, slung you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and you squealed. 

He set down gently on his bed. His bedroom had been completely transformed into his own space: rodeo medals and belts, his clothes hung in the closet, and fresh grey sheets. He crawled on top of you to kiss the lips he's been yearning to kiss this whole time. His hands ran over your hips, down your thighs, caressing them with absolute reverence. 

Hips lips moved down from your lips to your cheek to the curve of your neck. 

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do this. Kiss you. Touch you," he breathed against your ear.

You moaned at that, and he decided he could hold back no longer. 

"Can I take this off?" He asked, eagerly awaiting your reply.

You nodded and gasped as he nearly ripped your old white linen set in half, hastily undoing the buttons and sliding it off your shoulders. He peppered kisses across your collarbone and the swell of your breasts against your pink lace bra. He unhooked it and tossed it carelessly to the floor. It was pretty, but what was under it was prettier.

He licked a stripe up your breast before taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. His hand massaged the other one, and he relished in your soft sighs and writhing of your thighs. 

"God, you're so beautiful. So pretty. Perfect." He sighed as he kissed down your abdomen, where he stopped right above the hem of your pants. 

He didn't even have to ask. You just nodded and ran your fingers through his hair. He pulled your pants down and paused at the sight of your damn lace panties. 

You bit your lip as he pressed a light kiss against your clothed clit, begging for some attention. With the panties now discarded, he ran a finger down your wet heat before kissing again, bare. 

To say he was obsessed would be an understatement; he was devouring you like a man starved. His tongue lapped against your folds, and he sucked at your sensitive bud until your thighs were shaking around his head and you came undone on his tongue. He didn't stop after one. He slipped a finger in you, then two, and pumped them in and out, mesmerized at the way your needy cunt sucked him in. 

He was rock hard by the time he got his clothes off, and you had cum twice. He fumbled with the button on his pants. You giggle at his plight 

"C'mere," you tug closer by his belt loop to help him with the stubborn button.

He kicked them off alongside his boxers. The sight was truly intoxicating. You wonder how many girls had seen him like this before. He was toned from hard work and rodeo riding, a happy trail leading to a 8 inch cock with a slight right curve and a weeping tip. 

You take him into your hand, the weight of him soft and heavy, wrapping your hand the girth of it, your thumb brushing the tip as you stroked slowly. 

He panted expletives before wrapping his hand over yours, "fuck. I want you to feel how I do it when I think about you"

You watch as he strokes himself with your hand around him, him increasing the pace gradually, showing your where to squeeze and linger. 

He bit his lip as your palm dragged over his, "I think of you. A lot. Every night...like this" 

"You haven't been very secretive. I can hear you sometimes," you grin as his hand stuttered to a stop at the statement.

"W-what?" 

"Fuck it. It doesn't matter now, does it?" 

"No, not at all. Not at all," he groaned as he kissed you again, slotting himself between your thighs. 

His cock nudged against your clit as he made out with you, humping against the inside of your thigh. 

"Fuck...Dodge, put it me already" you whined softly. 

"Don't have a condom on me, baby. I'm sorry" 

"It doesn't matter..." you moaned as you line him up with your awaiting entrance, "please. please...?" 

By your second breathy plea, he had thrown all restraint to the wind, and inched himself inside you with a few shallow thrusts. You clawed at his back as he picked up the pace. You bit your lip to try to hold back your moans, feeling a little self conscious as he caressed you cheek and gazed at your hazy eyes. 

"Don't hold back. I want to hear you," he brushed his thumb against you lips and down your neck before letting his arm rest beside your head.

He had incredible stamina, and if he could,  he would've watched you like that all night with your eyes rolled back and lips parted as he thrusted into slow and deep to feel every part of you. He wanted to feel how you tighten around him, how you whined when he rubbed circles around your clit, how you wrapped your around your legs around his waist when you got close. He wanted it all. Forever. 

When you came around him, he was so close. He groaned against your ear, and his thrusts got erratic and a little sloppy. He pulled out, and with a few strokes of his cock he came all over your stomach with his head thrown back.

"Fuck. Holy shit," he panted as he looked at the aftermath of his release on your stomach, "need to clean you up."

You wipe your fingers through some of the mess and lick it off. His brain was mush at that point, only concerned with how fucking hot you are and why he didn't do this earlier.

You, with wobbly legs and determination, get him on his back and straddle him. You sink back down on his cock and begin to bounce up and down, riding him— using him more like it. He could barely catch his breath and hold your hips before you grabbed his Stetson from his bedside table and placed it on top of your head. 

He nearly came from the sight alone. He groaned as he gripped your thigh as you picked up the speed and the circles of your hips.

"You're gonna kill me, god—" he gripped the headboard that was banging loudly against your bedroom wall, "fuck. No, don't stop. Mm...W-wait- get off. I'm close—" 

You didn’t relent as he made futile attempts to pry you off. You grinded on his cock as he rode out his second orgasm of the night, and you felt the hot spurts of cum fill you up and drip down your thigh. You collapsed on top of him, and his hat toppled to the floor. 

"Are you okay?" His voice was more filled with worry than it should have been.

"I've never been better," you looked up at him to give him a dopey grin.

"This was...a horrible idea. Let's go get cleaned up. You're sticky." 

"From you"

He groaned as he pulled out of you, already missing the loss of contact. He helped you to your shared bathroom, turned on the shower, and scrubbed your back and front. Both of you were stupidly giddy. He kissed every wet inch of you as you sudsed up his hair. 

When you both got out and dried off, he quickly changed the sheets and pulled you in beside him. You rested your head against his chest, being lulled to sleep by the steady beat of his heart and his caressing of your hair. You traced mindless patterns around his little scar. 

Sleep took both of you easily. 

˖ ࣪⭑

By some miracle, neither of your alarms woke you up. You had both forgotten your phones downstairs. Dodge's watch read 9 am as he lay dormant against you, his cheek pressed against the plush comfort of your chest. He had you in a vice, both hands snuggly around you, as if you were going to disappear if he didn't hold on. 

You nudge him awake, and he jolts up. 

"Shh, calm down, it's just me," you whisper.

His voice was still rough from sleep when he spoke, "Sorry...good morning. Last night kinda...threw me off this morning." 

He rolled off of you and onto his side so he could look at you. He looked fondly at your messy hair and the sleep still in your eyes and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. 

He got around to looking at his watch before looking back at you, "We really slept in, huh?" 

"I don't plan on getting up any time soon..." You yawn and stretch your arms over your head.

"You're even prettier in the sunlight, y'know that?" He murmured as he watched you shake the sleep off. 

You kiss him back, this time on the lips, and he pulls you into his embrace, "so all it takes is one night to get you mushy. Who are you, and what did you do with Dodge?" 

He chuckled with his signature smirk and eye roll.

"There he is," you cooed

"You are aggravating," he teased back before kissing you again. 

He could not get enough of you. You let the light stream through the lace curtains that hung in the window frame as you and Dodge talked about anything and everything, as the morning provided a still calm for you both. Dodge opened up about his family and past. 

"I grew up in Carp. But my dad was always in other southern states for rodeos. I had my mom, my younger brother, and my sister. Dennis, my brother. He went off to college for pre-med. He’s in his 2nd year. He always wanted more than this," he gestured to the ranch, "my sister, Dayna. She's 15. She got hit by a car real young. Paralyzed her from the waist down like your pa."

He played with your fingers, interlacing the digits before running a hand up your forearm. He continued, "I just needed to get out. After my dad died. I couldn't stay in the house anymore."

"How did he die...?" You tilt your head to the side, curious. 

"He, uh, killed himself. Hung himself in the barn. I found him. The day after I won my first bronc belt" Dodge chuckled weakly, "he always said he would die with a bull rope in his hand" 

You frown at his nonchalant attitude about it all, "that's...horrible, Dodge. That's so sad"

"Bittersweet," he countered, "he wasn't a very nice man when he was home, so"

"That's still your dad"

"He wasn't like your pa. Your pa is actually a good guy. He cares about you, *for* you, he doesn't get angry at you. My dad he was a drunk. A angry one. And...I don't ever want to be like that. Sometimes I think I might" he sighs, "I don't know, sometimes the ‘what if’ haunts me. What if I turn out like him. Drink too many beers or shots and..."

"You won't ever be like him," you poke his chest, "because in here you're a good person. Not your father. Or an angry drunk. You're you. You're the exact opposite of him"

He looks down at you and a small smile graces his lips, "you think so?"

"I do," you nodded. 

Your words tugged at his heart. He was falling quickly.Too quickly. He shifted in the bed and began to get up from the bed. He pulled on some underwear and pants. You groan at the absence in the bed. 

"The horses aren't gonna feed themselves"

"A few more minutes?" 

He shook his head, "you'll have me all day and tonight. But right now, I have to do my job"

He tossed your pink lacy panties back at you, and you exclaim, “hey!” 

He's still your ranch hand. 

˖ ࣪⭑

Weeks followed and it was nearing the fall. Dodge's last month at the ranch was quickly approaching. You tried to keep your budding relationship away from your father as much as possible. You'd only creep to Dodge's room after you knew for *certiain* he was sleep, and you would make sure you were quiet. You'd clean up and go back to your room.

Dodge made sure to keep things as down low as possible. He did his duties, went to his rodeos, and stayed to himself as usual. 

Still...still your dad caught on.

One night at the dinner table, perhaps too many shared glances or awkward silence, your father announced what he'd been thinking all along. 

"I think that Dodge should stay at the ranch." 

"Why?" You both exclaimed at the same time. 

"So many reasons. He's good help. He brings in money. And it seems like my daughter's grown real fond of 'im." 

"Pa!" You shriek. 

He guffaws, a real heart laugh, slapping his belly, "Come on, you think I'm stupid? Born yesterday? It was bound to happen sooner or later. Shit, surprised it took this long!"

"...you're not mad?" you interrogate, "really?" 

Dodge's eyes darted between you both. 

“ 'Course not. Who else is supposed to carry on the good ol’ McAlpine farm? Just you?" Your father chuckled, tickled pink at the blush on Dodge's face and your eyebrows touching your hairline. 

He continued, "So, Dodge, how do you feel ‘bout staying a little longer?" 

"I'd stay, of course. Would I still be a ranch hand?" 

"Hell naw!" Your father exclaims, slapping his shoulder, "You're family now, boy." 

"Oh."

˖ ࣪⭑

Dodge entered from the glass door on the patio, sweaty from wrangling the horses back in the stables for the evening.  The door brought in the evening late fall air: a little crisp, lingering scent of peaches, and animals. He kicked his shoes off outside and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing the back of your neck. 

"Whatever you're making smells delicious."

"Unlike you, you smell like...sh-"

"Like a long day of hard work," he corrected before the word left your mouth, and he murmured in your ear, "don't lie, you know you like it." 

He let out a boyish chuckle as he squeezed your ass and you swatted him away. He hangs his hat on the hook near the foyer before returning to the kitchen to bother you.

Your father wheels into the kitchen from the living room, lips pursed and head shaking, "I'll put up with it. As long as I get some grandkids before I croak."

"Well, I think I have some news that might make both of you very happy."

˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪⭑

THE END!

[agirlinherownmessedupworld]

[agirlinherownmessedupworld]

petition for more dodge mason fics

[yearsarewatchingyou]

I got you

[agirlinherownmessedupworld]

ur the goat, ily😩

[agirlinherownmessedupworld]

petition for more dodge mason fics

[oyasumiaikko]

the 4 times dennis hurt you and the one time he couldn’t look away from it anymore

dennis whitaker x fem! reader (one shot) | the pitt ★

wc 9.9k genre hurt to comfort warnings intended lowercase, established relationship, ‘baby’ used as a pet name, jealousy (coming both from dennis and the reader), talks of wanting to break up, arguments, suggestive, swearing, alcohol, reader doesn’t work at PTMC (she’s in college and works part-time as a barista in a coffee shop, major unspecified), whitaker lives with reader instead of santos

summary after treating a patient who later passes away, whitaker grows closer to amy, the man’s widow, a farm girl soon to become a mother. he decides to help her, and your relationship begins to change. you try to be understanding, but over time your unhappiness grows, and dennis continues to overlook it until it becomes impossible to ignore.

author’s note part of this fic is inspired by this fic written by @bitchinbarzal make sure to check it out !! i really liked the setting of that fic and wanted to add my own twist to it. : )

after dennis came home from his first shift at the pittsburgh ER, he was devastated. you welcomed him with a tight hug and let him sink into you on your shared bed.

he had called you from the hospital, saying he’d have to stay longer because of the pittfest shooting, and the entire time you waited, you kept hoping he’d be okay, that the day wouldn’t break him completely.

by the time he finally walked through the door, his expression alone said more than a thousand words ever could. so that night, you simply held him, gently playing with his hair until he fell asleep in your arms. you let him process it all without asking questions. you were there if he needed to talk, but by now you knew him well enough to see when all he really needed was to be held.

the next morning, you woke up a little earlier and went to make him an omelette, his favorite, along with coffee. as you were still preparing everything, you felt two arms wrap around you from behind.

“morning, sleepyhead. you okay?” you murmured softly as he rested his head against your shoulder.

in response, he just nodded, nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck, which made you let out a quiet giggle.

“just a few more minutes and you’ll get to eat. if you feel like it, you can tell me about… yesterday,” you whispered.

“i’d like that…” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before letting go and moving to sit at the table.

and then he told you everything. after resting and eating, his cheeks still full of food made with love, he opened up about the patient he lost, about how many times he had to change his scrubs, the rats running around the emergency room, how out of place he felt among all the confident, skilled doctors, and then the tragedy at the end of the day. you just listened, letting him get it all out.

it was also the first time he mentioned amy, though at the time you didn’t think much of it.

he said he was glad he could soothe her, even just a little, but that it was heartbreaking knowing she was carrying the child of someone who would never get to see their baby’s face.

still, it was one of the rare moments he felt truly helpful and useful during the shift, especially when he offered to help her at the farm and her entire demeanor seemed to calm down a little.

you nodded along, thinking it was just something he said in the moment to comfort someone, especially a grieving woman, but as the months passed, you slowly realized that his promise to amy had never been empty at all.

꒰𐔌 ★ 🩺

the first time you were left feeling hurt by your sweet dennis was during a weekend.

a lot of time had passed since his first shift, and dennis had changed in a lot of ways. he had grown a mullet, picked up a bit of sass from his colleague trinity santos, who you got along with pretty well whenever you visited dennis at the hospital to drop off lunch or something he had forgotten that day, and overall, it seemed like he had finally found his place in emergency medicine, but with that came more responsibility and less time for the two of you.

if it wasn’t him who was busy, it was you, juggling college classes, assignments, and your part time job all at once. so your dates with denny usually ended up indoors, curled up watching a movie that faded into the background as you either fell asleep or, on better nights, got distracted by each other. dennis always seemed far more interested in your lips and the soft warmth of your body than whatever storyline was playing on the tv anyways.

but this weekend was supposed to be different. for once, both of you were mostly free, and he had promised to take you somewhere fancy. you deserved it, he said. you deserved to be taken care of for once, after all the days you spent taking care of him.

“doll yourself up and leave everything to me. i have to stop by somewhere in the morning, but by four i’ll come get you and we’ll spend a lovely day together, okay?” he had said earlier, while you looked at him with a sleepy smile. he pressed a quick kiss to your lips, lingering just for a second as he admired you, beautiful even like this, soft and unguarded in the morning light, before heading out.

that was hours ago.

now it was already thirty minutes past four. you were sitting in your shared bedroom, your makeup done, your hair styled, dressed in one of your prettiest dresses. it hugged your figure perfectly, always earning you that soft, stunned “wow” from dennis, even though he had seen you wear it countless times. it was his favorite.

but he was nowhere to be seen.

you had called and texted him, but every call went straight to voicemail, and your messages stayed on delivered.

when you thought about it more, a quiet unease settled in your chest. denny hadn’t even told you where he was going. the thought made your stomach twist. did something happen to him?

the longer you waited, the worse it felt. the dress, that made you feel pretty just a little while ago, now felt too tight, pressing against your ribs as your anxiety crept in. your makeup started to feel heavy on your skin, suffocating, and your perfectly styled hair pulled at your scalp until it began to ache.

when you glanced at the clock again, it was already almost six.

and just as you were about to call trinity, ready to fully freak out, you heard the door softly open. you hurried over, only to see dennis by the door, calmly taking off his shoes like nothing had happened.

“hey… sorry i’m late,” he said quietly, his voice a little uneven. then he finally looked up at you.

you just stared at him, trying to process it. this wasn’t like him. he had been late before, sure, but he used to be the one to panic, rushing in, apologizing over and over like the world was ending. now he just stood there.

“you look really pretty,” he added after a second, quieter than usual. no soft “wow” no hint of that familiar warmth. he just sounded kind of tired.

“i’ll take a quick shower and we can still go somewhere. i’ll find a place, i’m sure something’s open…”

“dennis,” you cut in, your voice tighter than you meant it to be. “where were you?”

he paused, clearly not expecting that.

“i told you, i’m sorry. i just got held up—”

“you didn’t respond to me. not once,” you said, stepping closer. “i called you like five times. i had no idea where you were or if something happened. do you get that?”

he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “i know, i know. i should’ve texted. it just… got busy.”

“busy where?”

there was a small pause before he answered. “at the farm. with amy.”

you blinked, thrown off. “amy?”

“yeah. she needed help. i thought i’d just stop by for a bit, do something small, but…” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “her baby’s only a few weeks old and she was really overwhelmed. i didn’t feel right just leaving her there like that.”he said it like it was obvious, like it made perfect sense.

“so you stayed. for hours,” you said slowly.

he didn’t answer right away, which was answer enough.

“are you serious right now?” your voice rose before you could stop it. “you stood me up, didn’t pick up your phone, and you’re telling me it’s because you didn’t want to leave another woman alone? and not just a woman, but the widow of your deceased patient? do you hear yourself?”

“hey, i said i’m sorry,” he replied, a bit sharper now. “what was i supposed to do? just walk out when she’s clearly struggling?”

“you could’ve texted me,” you shot back. “you could’ve told me anything. i’ve been sitting here for almost two hours thinking something happened to you.”

he sighed, like the whole thing was exhausting. “okay, yeah. i should’ve texted. i get it.”

“no, you don’t get it,” you said, shaking your head. “this wasn’t just ‘you forgot to text.’ you made plans. you promised.”

he looked at you for a moment, then shrugged slightly. “i mean… it’s not like you’re dealing with a newborn right now, unlike her.”

the second the words left his mouth, the air shifted.

you just stared at him in disbelief. “wow. okay.”

he ran a hand through his hair, stepping closer. “that’s not what i meant. i just… look, i miss nebraska sometimes, okay? being out there, helping like that… it feels familiar. it feels like i’m actually doing something that matters.”

“and this doesn’t?” you asked quietly.

he hesitated. “that’s not what i said.”

he let out a breath, softer now. “i’m sorry. really. i should’ve handled it better. it won’t happen again.”

you looked at him for a moment before averting your eyes, taking a slow breath, then another, trying to blink the tears away before they could fall. this just… didn’t feel right. just this morning, dennis had looked at you with so much love. it would be unfair not to accept his words now, wouldn’t it?

but it still hurt. it really did.

you had tried so hard to look pretty for him, and now all you felt was stupid. stupid for wasting your time, stupid for sitting there for hours, stupid for feeling like you had turned into something he had to squeeze in after spending his day somewhere else. like you were just another thing waiting for him at the end of it.

you didn’t want to be jealous. not of her. she had lost someone she loved, had a newborn to take care of and a whole farm. you kept telling yourself dennis was just being kind, that he had always been too kind for his own good.

he wouldn’t… cheat on you with a grieving woman.

right?

it must have shown on your face, because before you could fully spiral, before the tears could slip past your control, dennis stepped closer and gently placed his hands on your shoulders.

“hey,” he said softly. “look at me.”

you hesitated, but slowly did.

“i said i’m sorry. you told me what was wrong, and we talked it out. everything’s fine, okay?” his voice was calm, almost too calm. “you don’t need to cry.”

you were already too overwhelmed to argue. you just nodded, swallowing hard.

“just… touch up your makeup, yeah? give me a minute. i’m here.” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head before stepping away and heading towards the shower.

you went back to your shared bedroom and sat in front of the vanity mirror. your eyes were red at the edges, still glossy from tears that hadn’t fully fallen, mascara slightly smudged under your lower lashes. as you carefully fixed it, you kept replaying what had just happened in your head.

this was… so not like your denny.

he didn’t usually brush things off like that. he didn’t usually decide that “you talked it out” and then move on like nothing happened, especially not when you were still clearly upset.

but maybe you were overthinking it. you had to be. one bad moment with your otherwise caring boyfriend didn’t suddenly rewrite your entire relationship, right?

still, your chest felt tight as you stared at yourself in the mirror, trying to smooth out the expression on your face like that could fix what you were feeling inside.

in the shower, dennis just stood under the running water, unmoving for a while. he couldn’t tell if he was trying to wash off the sweat from a long day outside in the sun, or something heavier he didn’t want to name.

guilt, maybe.

not even fully guilt, just… that uneasy feeling sitting under his ribs that he hadn’t handled things the way he normally would have.

he didn’t really understand why he had spoken to you like that. usually, he was the one over-apologizing, even when you weren’t asking for it. but lately, something had shifted in him. a new kind of confidence, or maybe just a different way of justifying things to himself.

he didn’t think he needed to feel bad about amy. not really.

he was helping her. he was doing the right thing.

that was what he kept telling himself as the water ran over his face, louder than the thoughts he didn’t want to fully face.

and somewhere in the background of it all, without him really saying it out loud, your sadness became something he pushed aside to make room for that belief.

꒰𐔌 ★ 🩺

the second time happened a few weeks after that. by then, you were already a little worn down.

you didn’t work in the ER, but your job as a barista still drained you in its own way. you weren’t saving lives, but some customers surely did act like you were actively ruining theirs if their latte wasn’t perfect, even when the issue had nothing to do with you.

and lately, it had been one difficult shift after another.

you couldn’t tell if it was the summer heat making everyone more irritable, but it didn’t help your mood either. especially when you kept checking your phone for any notifications from dennis and there was either nothing at all, or messages like:

behind on charting, won’t be able to pick you up :(

there was an accident on the road and it’s all coming to us, sorry love, don’t wait for me for dinner

you’re working, right? amy will pick me up after my shift, she needs help with building some furniture for the nursery, don’t know when i’ll get home yet. good luck!

any time amy’s name appeared, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. you wanted to be understanding, you really did, but did she not have anyone else? no friends, no family, anyone at all?

it started to feel ridiculous.

and by now, you knew you weren’t the only one who thought so.

once, when you mentioned it to trinity, she had scoffed and called it weird, saying it wasn’t professional at all, that if anyone else at the hospital behaved like that, they’d be reprimanded immediately.

you didn’t really disagree.

but at the same time, you felt almost silly bringing it up again when you and dennis had already “talked” about it before. sort of.

you leaned against the cash register, exhaustion settling into your bones as another shift dragged on. your eyes drifted over to the pastry display, where an apple pie sat neatly behind the glass.

dennis really liked apple pie.

he always said it reminded him of home, how his grandma used to bake the sweetest ones.

you smiled a little at the memory and made a quiet mental note to bake him one soon.

it seemed like your relationship was lacking something sweet these days, and you didn’t want it to turn sour. after all, aside from the amy situation, everything else still felt like it was working. when you were doing your assignments, he would still kiss your temple on his way out, leaving a bowl of fruit on your desk so you’d have “something in your system.” he still held you close when you fell asleep, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you just needed to focus on the good things a little more.

as soon as you clocked out, you went grocery shopping, feeling inspired to make the best apple pie in the world.

when dennis came home later that day, the sun already long gone, he found you waiting for him.

“surprise!” you said brightly, bouncing slightly on your toes, apron dusted with flour still tied around your waist. the whole apartment smelled warm and sweet, like baked apples and cinnamon.

he paused in the doorway for a second, then let out a soft laugh. “what is this?”

you grabbed his hand immediately, pulling him towards the kitchen. “just come see.”

his eyes landed on the pie sitting on the counter. “woah,” he murmured, more genuine now. “baby, you didn’t have to do all this. weren’t you working today?”

“yeah,” you said, smiling as you watched his reaction, “but i don’t know. i just wanted to. i know how much you like it.”

that softened him. he turned to you right away, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your lips, then another to your cheek like he couldn’t decide where to land.

“you’re sweet,” he said quietly.

you smiled into him, letting yourself lean into the moment.

“let me wash my hands first,” he said after a second, already loosening his grip. “and then i’m going to absolutely destroy that pie. can’t have your effort going to waste.”

he laughed as he said it, a bit lighter now, and before you could respond, he spun you around once in his arms.

it was new. a little unexpected. stronger than before. now that you thought about it, ever since he started going to the farm more often, he did gain some muscle that he didn’t have before.

you let out a small laugh, steadying yourself against him. “okay, okay.”

while dennis was getting changed into his comfortable home clothes, you cut the pie and made him a cup of tea with two sugar cubes. he liked everything sweet.

when he came back, he kissed your cheek again and immediately dug in.

you watched him closely, waiting for his reaction.

“mhmm.” he let out a satisfied hum with his mouth full, which made you laugh, a small spark of pride warming your chest. “it’s so sweet, baby. thank you, i love it.”

he reached for his tea, still chewing. “though it would be nice if you used whipped cream too. amy did it when i was at hers and it tasted like a dream.”

he said it casually, like it didn’t mean anything at all, like it was just a passing thought he decided to share.

but your expression shifted immediately. happiness dropped into something tighter, disbelief and hurt mixing in your chest.

“are you comparing me to her?” you frowned.

dennis paused, eyebrows pulling together like he genuinely didn’t understand the question.

“no? i just said it’s a tip for next time. don’t take it so personally.” he gave you a small smile, already moving on, like it was nothing.

then he continued talking about something from his shift, completely slipping back into his day, like the moment had already passed.

but you hadn’t.

you stayed still for a second too long, trying to figure out if he really didn’t see it or if he just didn’t care enough to. neither option felt good.

“i’m tired. i’m going to bed.” you said quietly, cutting through his sentence as you took off your apron.

he blinked. “oh. okay. night, baby.”

and then he went right back to eating.

you walked into the bathroom and turned on the water, letting it run loudly so it could cover the sound of your sobs. you just sat on the cold floor, knees pulled in, tears slipping down your cheeks faster than you could stop them.

so much so for wanting to do something sweet for your boyfriend.

꒰𐔌 ★ 🩺

the third time dennis hurt you came pretty quickly after that. by then, it didn’t even take much to make you feel sad.

over time, as dennis kept shining brighter, his job clearly fulfilling him, combined with all the farm visits and the confidence he had grown into, something else started happening too.

you wanted to be happy for him. you really did.

but the more he seemed to step into the light, the more you felt like you were being left somewhere behind in the dark.

at first, it showed in small things. forgetting to turn in your assignments. being late to your shifts at the café. then it got worse. you couldn’t sleep properly anymore.

the only times dennis was home, he was usually exhausted, barely able to do more than kiss you hello before collapsing into bed. your movie nights disappeared. your time together shrank into almost nothing. and somehow, the quiet moments became the hardest.

when he was asleep beside you, snoring softly, one arm loosely wrapped around your waist, that was the only time you still felt like you belonged in his world. like you still had a place there.

and even then, it didn’t last.

because the second you tried to fall asleep, a thought would creep in, heavy and persistent.

what if you let go for too long and he just… drifted away?

so you stayed awake.

and then there was the faucet.

it started dripping one night, a steady, uneven sound echoing through the apartment. and if your thoughts weren’t enough to keep you up, that quiet, repetitive tap of water hitting the sink made sure you wouldn’t rest at all.

by morning, you felt completely drained.

when dennis was getting ready for his shift, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on his socks, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your cheek against his back.

“baby…” you mumbled, your voice thick with exhaustion. “the faucet’s dripping. can you fix it? i can’t sleep because of it…”the dark circles under your eyes had only gotten worse over the past few days.

“oh,” he said lightly, like it hadn’t even crossed his mind before. “i didn’t notice.” he turned slightly towards you, gently taking one of your hands off his waist and pressing a quick kiss to your palm.

“yeah, of course. i’ll take care of it when i get home. you’re not dating a farm boy for nothing.” he gave you a small smile, easy and reassuring, before standing up to finish getting ready for his shift.

as dennis left for work, you were left alone in the apartment with that… sound. the quiet space only made it worse, the steady dripping echoing through the rooms like it was filling every corner.

but it was okay. denny said he was going to fix it.

you took a deep breath and made yourself a light breakfast, then sat down to study and work on your assignments. you tried to focus, really, but the grating sound of the faucet kept pulling you out of it. over and over again.

at some point, you weren’t even sure if it was the sound itself that was driving you mad, or if it was everything else piling up inside you, finally starting to crack.

you texted dennis around the time his shift was supposed to end, but once again, you were left on delivered. you rolled your eyes, already knowing what that meant.

but it was okay. maybe amy just needed help with groceries or something small, and he’d be home soon. after all, he promised he’d fix the faucet for you.

and still, nothing.

by midnight, dennis still hadn’t shown up. his dinner sat untouched on the table, wrapped in foil, long gone cold. you didn’t even have the energy to cry anymore. you just sat there, staring at the sink, at the constant drip, your chest tight as your thoughts spiraled.

you couldn’t live like this.

2am passed. still nothing.

eventually, you went to the bedroom and lay down, staring at the ceiling, waiting. and waiting.

dennis finally came home at 5am. he moved quietly through the apartment, like he didn’t want to wake you. or maybe like he didn’t want to deal with you being awake.

unfortunately for both of you, you hadn’t slept at all.

“where the hell were you?” you said the moment you saw him, your voice flat from pure exhaustion.

he paused for a second before answering. “i’m so sorry, baby. i swear i wasn’t ignoring you. i left my phone at work by accident, and by the time i realized, i was already at amy’s. the storms this week caused a lot of damage on the farm, so i had to stay and help. and then it got late, and she didn’t want me driving back when i was that tired. but… i’m here now.”

you let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

“yeah. to get clean clothes. you’re not here for me.”

he frowned slightly, like that wasn’t fair.

“you promised you’d fix the faucet, dennis. i haven’t slept in days. why are her problems always more important than mine?”

he stepped closer, gently holding your face in his hands like that would calm you down.

“it’s not like that, baby. i promise i’ll fix it today, okay? actually promise. it just slipped my mind.”

he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. you didn’t kiss him back, but he didn’t seem to notice.

he glanced at the time right after.

“after work, okay? i’m already late and robby’s gonna be on my ass if i don’t show up. bye. love you.”

and just like that, he was already moving again, grabbing his things and heading out, leaving you standing there in the same apartment, with the same dripping sound still echoing in the background.

you took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself, but it got harder the moment you realized your own shift started in three hours.

great.

you could barely handle customers on a full night of sleep, let alone like this, after nights of barely resting at all. you already felt it in your body, the heaviness behind your eyes, the way everything seemed just a little harder.

you groaned quietly, frustration bubbling up. at yourself, at amy, but most of all at your boyfriend. all the apologies, all the promises that never really seemed to reach you anymore. it felt like those only meant something when they were directed at her.

you pushed yourself up anyway.

slowly, you got ready, moving through everything on autopilot. you made yourself the strongest cup of coffee you could manage and forced it down before heading out.

to say the shift dragged would’ve been an understatement.

everything felt off. you kept making small mistakes, ringing up hot drinks instead of iced ones, spilling milk on the counter, your hands trembling slightly as you poured coffee. even the simplest things felt like too much.

you were just so tired.

during a quieter moment, when the line finally died down, your coworker approached you. mark. you didn’t know him that well, just small talk here and there, but enough to know he was a year older, also in college, and had really nice hair.

“hey… you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle, careful. “you don’t seem like yourself today.”

you let out a dry laugh, glancing at him. “you can say it. i look like shit.”

he gave you a small, almost amused smile, but didn’t argue.

“thanks for asking though,” you added, shrugging lightly. “i just… couldn’t sleep. there’s this faucet in my apartment that won’t stop dripping, and i can’t fall asleep with it. and i don’t even know how to fix it myself, so…”

mark nodded, listening. then, after a second, “are you free after your shift?”

you looked at him, a bit confused.

“i mean,” he continued, leaning slightly against the counter, arms loosely crossed, “i’m pretty handy. i could take a look at it for you. probably fix it pretty quickly.”

for the first time in what felt like weeks, something in you lifted. just a little.

“really?” you blinked. “that… that would actually mean a lot. are you sure you don’t mind?”

he smiled easily. “i wouldn’t offer if i did.”

then, a little softer, a little more playful, “besides, i’ve been meaning to get to know you better anyway.” he leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice. “don’t tell anyone, but you’re kind of my favorite here.”

you couldn’t help it, you giggled, the sound feeling unfamiliar but nice.

he winked, then straightened up again as another customer walked in, already slipping back into work like nothing happened.

after that, the rest of your shift felt a little easier. anytime you got dazed or lost, mark would quietly slide in and take over for you, telling you to take five and go easy on yourself.

it felt… nice. being seen, being taken care of, even in such a small way. even if a part of you kept insisting it was probably just politeness, nothing more.

when you got back to your apartment with mark, you actually got to know him a bit better. he told you he was majoring in sculpting at one of the fancy art colleges in pittsburgh, joking that being handy was probably the only reason he got accepted. he talked about playing basketball, about his two younger sisters, and somewhere along the way, the conversation just… flowed.

you found yourself laughing more than you expected. it was nice, talking about things that had nothing to do with dennis for once.

you liked trinity, you really did, but she always circled back to him. and right now, you just couldn’t handle thinking about any of it.

you ended up making a quick pasta as a small thank you, insisting he stay for at least a few bites before leaving. after that, you walked him to the door, exchanging a quick, easy goodbye.

once the apartment fell quiet again, it didn’t feel as heavy as before. not as suffocating. and the second your back hit the couch, exhaustion took over. you fell asleep almost instantly, finally getting the rest your body had been begging for.

dennis came home hours later.

you only stirred when you heard dennis’ keys, your body too tired to fully wake up.

he stepped into the living room, his voice low. “hey…”

you barely responded, just a small nod before turning onto your side, your back facing him. you didn’t have the energy to talk to him. not now.

he sighed quietly and went to change, but then paused.

something felt… off.

the apartment was too quiet.

he walked towards the kitchen, glancing at the sink, and froze for a second. the faucet wasn’t dripping anymore. but there were two plates sitting there, neither of them his.

he stood there for a moment before speaking.

“hey… what happened to the faucet?” he asked, his voice careful, though there was something tense underneath it.

you stirred slightly, pushing yourself up just enough to look at him.

“oh. yeah. that,” you mumbled, still half asleep. “my coworker fixed it. i was a mess at work, didn’t sleep, so he offered…”

you stretched a little, not thinking much of it.

dennis, however, did.

his expression tightened just slightly, a strained kind of smile settling on his face as he stepped closer.

“your coworker?” he repeated. “like… a guy?”

you frowned, confusion mixing with irritation as you sat up more properly.

“yeah. why? does it matter?”you pushed yourself off the couch, already exhausted again. “whatever. i’m going to bed. i need sleep.”

you tried to walk past him, but he caught your arm, stopping you.

“i don’t like you inviting other guys into our place to fix things,” he said, his tone firmer now. “that’s what you have a boyfriend for.”

for a second, you just stared at him.

“do i?” you said, your voice sharp despite how tired you felt.

you pulled your arm out of his grip.

“because i haven’t seen him in a while.”

his jaw tightened, but you didn’t stop.

“i asked you to fix it first. you brushed me off for amy. you don’t get to play house at a farm with some other woman and then get mad at me for accepting help from someone else. that’s not fair, dennis.”

dennis looked at you for a moment, clearly deciding what to do next. if it had been the dennis you first fell in love with, he probably would’ve dropped his gaze, stumbled over his words, and started muttering multiple apologies, though the dennis you started dating wouldn’t have let things get this bad with you in the first place.

but now he wanted to use his newfound confidence. to show you he had become better, not just for himself and his coworkers, but for you too.

so instead of backing down, he closed the distance between you and kissed you.

it was sudden, passionate, catching you completely off guard. your eyes widened, and before you could react properly, he pressed you back against the nearest wall, his lips moving down to your neck, slowly sucking at your sensitive spot.

your breath got caught in your throat, your body reacting before your mind could catch up, hands instinctively wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

for a brief moment, it felt like everything else faded. like things were normal again.

dennis pulled back just enough to look at you, something almost smug flickering across his face.

“you don’t need other guys for this,” he said quietly, as his hand slowly slipped into your pants, his lips returning to your neck. “could that coworker of yours do this to you, huh?”

and for a moment, you did feel it. the warmth, the closeness, the pull. and it would’ve been a lie to say you didn’t get wet from his touches, because you did. however it was his fault you were this needy in the first place. months of distance, of being tired, of him barely being there or only half present when he was. you don’t even remember the last time the two of you got intimate.

and just like that, something in you snapped back. because as quickly as your body responded, your mind caught up as well.

the missed calls. the empty apartment. the nights you spent staring at the ceiling. the sound of the faucet. amy. always amy.

your hands pushed against his chest.

“stop. stop!” you raised your voice.

dennis stepped back immediately, actual fear in his eyes. he had never forced himself on you, and this was the first time you had ever fully rejected him like that.

you stood there, breathing uneven, and then it all came out at once.

“you can’t do that. you can’t leave me hanging for months, walking away from me when i need you, choosing some other woman who should be relying on literally anyone else but you, and then come back and act like this fixes it.”

your voice shook, but you didn’t stop.

“waltzing back in here to try to do some jealous power play on me? saying how you can make me feel things that my coworker can’t? when’s the last time you even did anything like that for me, dennis?”

a bitter, exhausted laugh slipped out of you as you ran a hand through your hair.

“i love you, dennis,” you said more quietly now, voice breaking a little at the edges. “i still do. but i deserve better than this.”

you looked at him for a second longer, then turned away.

“i’m going to bed.” you walked past him, heading to the bedroom, leaving him standing there in silence. he couldn’t react in any way, because deep down he knew you were right. he just didn’t want to accept it.

didn’t want to admit that everything he thought was making him better, stronger, someone you could be proud of, was slowly pushing you away instead.

that night, he stayed on the couch.

he didn’t dare come into the bedroom. not after everything.

and as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, the faint scent of your perfume still lingering on the couch pillows from your nap, he realized how far away you suddenly felt.

꒰𐔌 ★ 🩺

the fourth time dennis hurt you came the next morning.

you woke up with a headache worse than any hangover you’d ever had, and instead of feeling well rested after finally getting the sleep your body desperately craved, you just felt awful.

you didn’t even want to get up, knowing you’d have to face dennis again, face that difficult and weird situation he put you into.

you just wanted to stay in bed. sleep the whole day away, maybe even the next one too, but unfortunately, you couldn’t.

you glanced at the empty side of the bed, the one dennis usually slept on, the cold bedsheets showing that he didn’t sleep there at all.

with a heavy sight you got up from the bed and carefully navigated your way through the hallway into the living room. you took a deep breath before you opened the door and then carefully stepped inside, bracing yourself for what was yet to come.

dennis was still there, which by now, was rather unusual. he was sitting on the edge of the sofa, his eyes tired, but they lit up a little when he saw you in the doorway.

you two just looked at each other for a moment, awkward silence filling the room. after another beat of silence, dennis opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, his phone started ringing.

he glanced at it, hesitating for a second, clearly unsure if he should pick up.

“amy?” you asked, your voice flat, already knowing the answer.

“y-yeah, but uh let me just take this, it’ll be quick, and then we can finish our conversation from yesterday, okay?” his voice wavered slightly.

you let out a quiet, humorless breath.

“bold of you to assume i want to finish that conversation,” you said, your tone tired more than anything. “i said everything i needed to, so go ahead. pick up. wouldn’t want to leave poor amy hanging, right?” you rolled your eyes and turned away, walking out of the living room.

you meant to go back to your bedroom, to get dressed and leave, just get out of the apartment for a while.

but you didn’t go far.

you stopped just behind the door in the hallway, your chest tight, your curiosity and anxiety keeping you there.

you needed to hear it. needed to know how he talked to her. what he sounded like speaking to other woman than you.

you heard him click his tongue before picking up the call, the tension in him slipping out in that small sound.

“uh, hi amy. what’s up?” he said, his voice a little gentler now, like he didn’t want her to hear that he was stressed.

“oh, theo’s teething? is that what’s making him act up? i’m sorry to hear that.” after a pause, probably listening to what else she had to say, he responded with a light laugh in his voice. “you’d like me to come on sunday?” he repeated, glancing at the calendar hanging in your living room.

sunday was marked as your anniversary date. officially three years together. dana had once joked that even some marriages don’t last that long.

you tensed at the mention of that, waiting for his answer just as much as amy.

“y-yeah, i don’t know…” he started, clearly aware he was busy. with you. he was supposed to be busy with you.

but he didn’t finish, as amy probably started insisting. at least that’s what you assumed.

dennis ran a hand over his face before responding. “okay, sure. i’ll come. probably in the morning, because—”

and the moment you heard his defeated “okay” you didn’t even for him to finish the rest of his sentence. you had already heard enough.

you rushed to your bedroom and shut the door behind you, louder than necessary, making sure it made a sound.

you didn’t even know what came over you in that moment. probably all the pent up sadness, the anger, the constant feeling of being pushed aside finally spilling over. the more you thought about it, the more worse you felt.

you did everything for this man. you were there when he had nothing, when he was struggling financially, when he didn’t even have a place to stay. you welcomed him into your home and made it a home for both of you. you supported his decisions, tried your best to build up his confidence, to make him feel like he was enough.

and now he was using the widow of his dead patient, which was insane in itself, to boost his ego?

for what?

were you never enough?

was it because you were a city girl, while amy could give him that quiet life he always talked about? the white fence, the baby, the farm?

you couldn’t do this anymore. you just couldn’t.

so with shaking hands, you pulled out a suitcase and started packing. quickly, carelessly, not even looking at what you were grabbing, just throwing clothes in, one after another.

the moment dennis heard the loud thud from the bedroom, he ended the call with amy almost immediately and rushed in.

he froze for a second when he saw you.

“what are you doing?” he asked, frowning, already stepping forward.

then he moved closer, panic kicking in as he started pulling your clothes back out of the suitcase.

“what are you doing?” he repeated, more urgent now.

“what are you doing, dennis?” you snapped back, your voice rising as you yanked your sweater out of his hands.

“i’m tired of this. i’m tired of feeling like the other woman in my own relationship.”

your chest was heaving now, emotions spilling out faster than you could control.

“you’re going to her place even on our anniversary? seriously? grow a backbone. why couldn’t you say no to her for once, the same way you keep saying no to me?”

the words came out sharp, unfiltered, driven by everything you had been holding in.

and something in dennis… snapped.

he didn’t mean it. not really.

he was just angry. mostly at himself, honestly.

but it all came out wrong.

“yeah?” he shot back, his voice tight. “you know what? i always thought you were a good person, but now it just feels like you simply liked me better when i was at my lowest.”

you froze.

“yeah,” he continued, words spilling out faster now. “when i was that broke, clumsy med student with nothing. no money, no place, nothing. and you got something out of that.”

your heart dropped.

“you used it. you used me to feel better about yourself. and now that i’m not beneath you anymore, now that people actually see something in me, even another woman… you just can’t handle it.”

the room fell silent after that.

you just stared at him, like you didn’t even recognize the person standing in front of you anymore.

“if that’s what you really think,” you said quietly, your voice shaking but steady enough, “then i don’t understand why you’re even here.”

you swallowed, forcing the next words out.

“it’s over, dennis. i want you to leave. right now. and if you won’t, i will.”

your eyes were glossy, but your tone stayed stern.

for a moment, he just stood there, blinking, like he didn’t fully realize what he had just done. then, without another word, he turned and walked out.

the door closed behind him.

and suddenly, it was quiet again.

you sank down onto the floor of your bedroom, the suitcase still half full, clothes scattered everywhere around you.

little pieces of your life together, now just painful reminders you didn’t know what to do with.

꒰𐔌 ★ 🩺

time moved on, but neither did you and dennis. it had been almost a week since he left the apartment, and unfortunately for both of you, today was that fateful sunday.

you decided to stay in, considering all the plans you once had for that day were long gone. you bought yourself a big tub of ice cream, a bottle of wine, and planned to spend the entire day inside, rewatching your favorite show, not even bothering to open the blinds.

dennis, on the other hand, picked up a shift. it was a convenient excuse not to go to amy’s, and at the same time, he needed something to distract himself. he figured if he focused on his patients, maybe he wouldn’t have to think about everything else.

unfortunately for him, his coworkers had other plans.

the first one to bring it up, as expected, was trinity. he had been staying at her place for the past few days. at first, she gave him space, knowing when to leave things alone, but patience had never really been her strength, and she had clearly had enough.

“so, when are you planning on fixing your fuck up, huckleberry?” she said bluntly, her tone sharp as they both sat down to do charting.

“what fuck up?” he replied, not even looking up, like he didn’t know exactly what she meant.

“oh, don’t play dumb,” she scoffed. “just a few days ago you were going on and on about how you were gonna treat your ‘queen’ on sunday, and now you’re here instead. and don’t think i didn’t notice the fifteen cans of beer in my fridge. if you drink all of that and throw up in my apartment, i swear…”

he exhaled, rubbing his face, clearly not being in the mood for this conversation.

trinity just shook her head. “to think you threw it all away for that farm girl…” she muttered.

that was enough to set him off.

“look, i really don’t want you bringing that up, especially here, okay?” he said, his voice lower now, but tense.

trinity raised her eyebrows, her tone immediately turning more biting.

“wow. look at that. acting like a victim,” she said, a sarcastic smile creeping onto her face. “as if i haven’t told you multiple times how weird this whole thing is. you kept telling me how your girlfriend is this perfect, understanding angel, and i kept thinking, who in their right mind would actually be okay with that? now look at that, she wasn’t okay with that.”

he stayed quiet.

“for fuck’s sake, amy was picking you up from work more often than your own girlfriend at this point. everyone saw it. and you didn’t seem to mind back then,” she added, her voice sharper now, as she she stood up, grabbing her things.

“i’m saying this because i actually care, huckleberry. fix it today, or you’re going to regret it.” and with that, she walked off.

dennis sat there for a moment, then dropped his face into his hands.

after a second, dana leaned slightly towards him.

“she’s right, kid. harsh, but right.”

“you too, dana… don’t even start.” he muttered, already ready to get up and grab another case just to avoid the conversation, but she stopped him.

“look, i know it’s not my business,” she said more gently, “but that girl of yours… she seemed really sweet. and she loved you. that was obvious.”

he didn’t respond.

“people mess up. trust me, i’ve had my fair share with my husband. but if the love is real, it’s worth fighting for.”

then she leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice.

“and it’s definitely not worth losing over… whatever this is with a patient’s family.”

she gave him a look before going back to her work.

dennis stayed there, shoulders slumping as he processed everything that was said to him just now, because well, they were right.

all of them.

and you… you had been right from the start.

he had seen it, even if he didn’t want to admit it. the way you held onto him a little tighter in the mornings, the way your smile slowly faded over time.

somewhere along the way, he had lost the balance between taking care of himself… and forgetting to take care of you.

before dennis could dwell on it any longer, a trauma was called in and he was needed immediately.

dennis quickly pulled on protective eyewear and a sterile gown, falling into the routine as he joined the rest of the team rushing to receive the patient. it was serious enough to require a trauma surgeon and immediate transfer to the OR, which meant everything had to move fast.

garcia was the one called in, and at that, dennis couldn’t help but roll his eyes. she had never really spared him when it came to snarky remarks, and now, knowing trinity, she probably knew everything already.

“oh, if it isn’t the funky music,” she said when she spotted him, her tone light despite the situation. “i know you’ve been going around breaking hearts, but don’t break this one too, okay?” she shot him a teasing look before turning back to the patient.

dennis huffed quietly under his breath but didn’t respond, focusing on what needed to be done as the team worked to stabilize the patient.

unfortunately for him, robby had been there the whole time too.

once things finally settled and the patient was stable, robby motioned for dennis to step aside, leading him towards the ambulance bay doors.

“you alright?” robby asked, arms crossed, studying him for a moment.

dennis frowned slightly. “yeah. why?”

robby raised a brow. “because you’ve been off all day. tired, distracted. not like you.”

dennis exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “i’m fine. just didn’t sleep much.”

robby didn’t seem convinced. he leaned back slightly against the wall, still watching him.

“that all?”

there was a pause.

dennis hesitated, glancing away for a second like he was debating whether to say anything at all.

“it’s just… stuff at home,” he admitted finally, quieter now.

robby didn’t interrupt.

“i messed up,” dennis added after a moment, his voice low. “with my girlfriend. like… really messed up.”

he let out a short breath, shaking his head slightly.

“i don’t even know how it got this bad.”

robby hummed quietly, not surprised. “that explains the mood.”

dennis let out a tired laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“yeah.”

there was a short silence before robby spoke again.

“you gonna fix it?”

dennis didn’t answer right away.

he just stood there for a second, the question settling heavier than he expected.

“…i don’t know if i can,” he admitted.

robby shrugged slightly. “then figure it out. because whatever’s going on, it’s clearly getting to you.”

he pushed himself off the wall, giving dennis a small nod.

“get your head back in the game. we still got a shift to finish.”

and just like that, robby walked off, leaving dennis standing there with his thoughts again, only now he couldn’t ignore them as easily.

the end of the shift couldn’t come soon enough. dennis rushed through handoffs with the night shift, barely listening as perlah and princess exchanged knowing looks, whispering to each other in a language he didn’t understand, but he could guess exactly what it was about. at this point, it felt like the whole hospital knew about his fuck up.

he didn’t even bother changing out of his scrubs. he just grabbed his things and hurried out, stopping by the nearest flower shop and spending almost all the money he had left, which wasn’t much, considering he had only just started getting paychecks, on the biggest bouquet of your favorite flowers.

then he drove to your place.

he still had the key.

dennis stood outside for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before unlocking the door and quietly stepping inside.

the apartment was dark, except for the soft glow coming from the living room, along with the familiar soundtrack of your favorite show. one he had gotten to know pretty well over time. he remembered you rewatching it during breakfasts back when he was still in med school. he used to tease you about how you could probably recite every line by heart, and you never denied it. he had grown to love it too. mostly because it reminded him of you.

he swallowed and slowly made his way towards the living room.

when he stepped in, he saw you curled up under a blanket on the couch, a half-empty bottle of wine next to you. your eyes were puffy and tired, like you had been crying for hours.

his chest tightened at the sight. he hated himself for letting it get this far. for being the reason you looked like this.

“hey…” he whispered softly.

you looked at him, taking a second to fully register his presence, before a small sniffle escaped you.

“get out,” you said, trying to sound firm, but your voice shook. “i don’t want to see you.” you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, hiding your face completely.

dennis stepped closer, careful and hesitant.

“darling… baby, please just hear me out,” he started, his voice already shaky. “i know you said everything you needed to that day, but i didn’t, and i… i’m sorry. okay? i didn’t mean any of the things i said at that moment.”

he swallowed hard, his voice threatening to break.

“you are a good person. you always have been. and i should’ve been grateful that you stayed with me when i had nothing, when i was… pretty useless, honestly. and then i go and treat you like this…” he let out a breath, shaking his head. “i’m a fool. i know i am.”

his voice cracked despite his effort to keep it together.

“you’re the best thing in my life, and i don’t want to lose that. i don’t want to lose you.”

he took another small step closer, still not touching you.

“i’ll cut amy off. completely. i swear i never thought of her in a romantic way, not once, but i should’ve realized how it looked, how it felt for you. but i didn’t. i messed up. badly.”

he ran a hand through his hair, his words coming out more rushed now.

“i just… i felt good for once. at the farm, i know what i’m doing. i feel useful there. like i actually stand out. in the hospital, there are so many people who are better, stronger, more confident and then there’s you…” he let out a small, almost breathless laugh. “you’re the strongest, most amazing, most beautiful person i’ve ever met. and i think i just… lost myself trying to prove i could be something too.”

his voice softened again.

“and in the process, i pushed away the most important person in my life.”

there was a pause.

“i regret it. more than anything.”

he finally stepped closer to the couch, slowly lowering himself down in front of you, but still keeping a small distance, giving you space.

“can you… just give me a chance to fix this?”

after a few seconds, you pulled the blanket down, your face still tear-streaked, your eyes red. you had listened to everything. every word.

but you didn’t know what to say.

you loved him.

you really did.

but was that enough?

was it right to let him back in after everything?

as if he could read the doubt in your expression, he spoke again, quieter this time.

“you don’t have to forgive me. not now… maybe not ever,” he admitted. “but if there’s even a chance… let me earn it. let me prove to you that i can be better. that i can be the man you deserve.”

he swallowed, then carefully got down on his knees in front of you, placing the bouquet beside you before gently reaching for your hands. this time, he waited, giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted to.

“i, dennis whitaker, promise that i’ll take care of you,” he said softly. “i’ll fix every stupid faucet, anything that bothers you. i’ll take you anywhere you want to go. i’ll do all those dumb things like putting my coat over puddles just so you don’t get your shoes wet.”

a faint, sad smile tugged at his lips.

“i’ll rub your neck when you’re studying, and in return i just… want to be the one who gets to wake up next to you. the one who gets to eat your pies and whatever you bake until i’m old and annoying.”

his grip on your hands tightened just slightly.

“please. just one more chance. you’re the only one for me.”

there was a beat of silence, as if you were still weighing everything he had said, still deciding what to do with it.

then you let out a small sniffle.

“if i ever hear about amy again,” you started, your voice shaky but holding onto that familiar edge, “or if you ever dare to say my pies aren’t perfect, i’ll sell your clothes on ebay and come to the hospital to show everyone your donald duck boxers.”

a quiet, broken giggle slipped out of you.

dennis let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, a soft, relieved laugh escaping him as he leaned in, resting his forehead gently against yours.

“yeah… that’s fair,” he murmured. “that’s definitely what i deserve.”

he smiled softly before looking at you properly again, his expression warmer now, but still careful.

“thank you. for letting me try again. i love you.”

you sniffled once more, your lips pressing into a small, tired smile.

“you’re lucky i love you too.”

“i really am.” he whispered.

that night was finally the first one in a while where you actually slept a little peacefully.

dennis took the bottle of wine away from you, putting it back into the kitchen cabinet and making you tea instead before gently tucking you into bed.

for a moment, he hesitated.

he wasn’t sure if he deserved to lie next to you yet. part of him thought he should just take the couch again, give you space, not assume anything.

but then you reached out for him. your hand searching for his without even opening your eyes.

that was enough to convince him. he slipped into bed beside you, and the moment you settled, resting your head against his chest, something in him softened completely.

he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting carefully against your back as he felt you slowly drift off to sleep.

he stayed like that for a while, just holding you. making sure you were really resting.

and once your breathing evened out, he carefully reached for his phone.

he stared at the screen for a moment before typing out a message to amy, that he was going to focus on building his own family now. with you. and that if things got too overwhelming, she should reach out to the hospital psychologist, but that he couldn’t be there for her anymore, because he was needed somewhere else.

he sent it, then turned his phone off completely.

when he looked back at you, you were still curled up against him, your chest rising and falling softly with each breath.

his expression softened, but his eyes stung. a few quiet tears slipped down his cheeks as he brushed his thumb gently against your arm.

“i’m so sorry, my love,” he whispered. “i won’t ever do this to you again. promise.”

fin.

general masterlist 🩺 the pitt masterlist

🏷️ tag list @flowersandsuch111 @mrsbellastyles @m-maxie-ie @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @interdimensionalzoomcall @4ria790 @harrysmatcha @lotusapple-xia-main @celestiallworld @uwuuuuooo @ninihrs @oliviajhene @hateusernames @meowtastick @coffeelmao @jcks29 @sugaryapplez @druidofstars @husbandb3at3r @beths-shoelaces @jace2582 @archxve @maviscone @sincerellie @carriemill

[wvyik]

THE VIRGIN PROBLEM.

sam winchester x fem! reader

ꕤ summary: you’re a sharp-tongued hunter with a secret… one that makes you the monster’s perfect target. when things get tense, sam figures it out… and decides it’s time to solve the problem himself. very thoroughly.

♯ warnings: mdni!! explicit content, virgin! reader, soft dom! sam, p in v, oral sex (fem! receiving), emotional intimacy, consent focused, aftercare so sweet you’ll rot, mentions of fear/paranoia tied to virginity, dean walking in and mentally combusting, so slight voyeurism.

♯ notes: the bitch is back at it again!! also?? what the fuck is up with me writing so many virginity plots specifically for sam winchester. idk. guess.

You weren’t new to creepy towns. You’d seen more than your share of cornfield nightmares and rusted playgrounds that screamed bad vibes. But the second the Impala rolled through the cracked welcome sign, something about the place just felt… wrong. It wasn’t the broken sidewalks or the way the trees seemed too still, it was the air. Stale. Almost held breath kind of wrong.

“‘Welcome to Morrow Creek. Population 1,206.’” You squinted out the window, voice flat with disdain. “Cute.”

Dean snorted from the driver’s seat, tapping the steering wheel with a finger like he was already bored. “Bet they sell homemade jam and death in the same gift shop.”

“Three women,” Sam muttered from the passenger seat, flipping through the thick folder of clippings in his lap. His tone was low, the kind he used when something wasn’t sitting right. “All under twenty-five. Found dead in bed, no forced entry, no signs of struggle. Local cops think it’s a carbon monoxide leak or a curse. But each of ‘em—” He paused, glancing back at you. “They were all virgins.”

The word dropped heavy between the seats, even though Dean chuckled like it was just another day at the office. “So we’ve got a purity-sucking monster. Awesome. What’s next, a ghost nun with mommy issues?”

You leaned your head against the cold window, lips quirking into a smirk that felt a little too tight. “Well, good thing none of us fit the bill, right?”

Dean laughed under his breath, but you felt Sam’s eyes flick back to you, too quick to mean nothing. You didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, you stared hard at the road and let your smile fade.

The motel was standard horror-flick material: peeling yellow wallpaper, buzzing neon sign and a front desk guy who looked like he’d eaten his own fingernails. The three of you tossed your bags into one of the two-bed rooms and you immediately claimed the lumpy couch in the corner before the brothers could bicker about it.

“I’ll take the death trap,” you said, dropping your bag with a thud. “I’ve had worse.”

Dean smirked, eyeing the couch like it owed him money. “Suit yourself, sweetheart. Hope you like springs in your spine.”

Sam didn’t say anything, just watched you with that unreadable expression he got when he was thinking too hard. “You sure?” he asked after a beat. His voice wasn’t pushy, it was gentle, like he wasn’t asking about the couch at all.

You raised an eyebrow, already pulling out the iron blade you kept tucked beneath your jacket. “Don’t worry about me, Sammy. I’m not exactly delicate.”

That earned the tiniest smile from him, but his eyes didn’t let go of yours right away. You turned your back before it could linger.

The three of you spent the afternoon digging through the town’s pathetic excuse for a library. Sam and Dean did their usual tag-team, Sam sweet-talking the clerk for access to records, Dean bitching about how much dust was on the damn files. You tucked yourself into a quiet corner and started scribbling connections, your fingers stained with ink and that familiar buzz of adrenaline humming under your skin.

You were good at this. Better than good. You’d learned from the best, but you had your own rhythm now, your own gut instincts that whispered before the lore caught up.

You leaned over the table and tapped your notebook with the back of your pen. “Look at the dates. All three deaths were on the waxing crescent. Always between midnight and 3 a.m., always in their homes. No signs of entry. That means it’s either incorporeal, or it’s being let in.”

Dean leaned over your shoulder, and you caught the faint scent of his cologne. “Damn,” he muttered, lips close enough to your ear to make your skin prickle. “You’re getting scary good at this.”

“I’ve been scary good,” you replied coolly, not looking at him.

You could feel Sam watching you again, from behind the half-wall of old encyclopedias. His gaze felt different. He was trying to peel something back. You didn’t give him the chance.

By the time night crawled in, the motel felt colder than it should’ve. Dean was lounging on his bed with a beer, flipping channels, while Sam meticulously salted the windows and doors, making sure every corner was sealed. You added your own touch, drawing sigils on the mirror with charcoal, tucking your blade under your pillow, double checking the line of salt at the threshold until it looked like you were pacing. You told yourself it was just muscle memory. You told yourself you weren’t nervous.

But you were. Not because of the hunt.

Because of you.

Because the second Sam said the v-word earlier, your body went cold. Not because you were ashamed, or insecure, or anything stupid like that. You just hadn’t wanted them to know. You hadn’t wanted them to realize you were the kind of girl this monster wanted— pure, untouched. You’d spent years building yourself into something sharp and untouchable. And now, something out there could sniff it out like blood in the water.

You cracked open a beer and forced yourself to take a long sip, masking the shake in your hands with practiced ease. Then you stood. “I’m beat. Gonna crash early.”

Dean waved you off with a lazy salute. “Sweet dreams, killer.”

Sam said nothing. Just watched you walk out like he already knew something you didn’t want him to.

Your motel room was just a few doors down, but it felt like another planet once you locked yourself inside. The silence hit hard. No TV hum, no quiet brotherly arguing in the background. Just your own shallow breathing and the steady tick of your watch as the minutes dragged by. You did what you always did. You locked the door, salted the windows, tested your knife grip, triple-checked the lines on the floor. But your chest still felt tight. Your palms were damp. Your skin felt… exposed.

You weren’t scared of dying. That had stopped being your biggest fear a long time ago. What made your stomach twist was the idea that you might get chosen. That this thing might sniff you out, and suddenly Sam and Dean would know. They’d look at you differently. Pity you. Protect you.

You didn’t want to be protected. You wanted to be seen as dangerous.

But right now? Sitting alone in a dark motel room, knees pulled up to your chest as you stared at the door like it might explode inward; you felt like prey.

A knock broke the silence. Soft. Careful.

Your head snapped up.

“Hey… it’s me.” Sam’s voice was low through the door, almost gentle. Like he already knew not to scare you more than you were.

You hesitated, heart hammering. “What the hell— Sam?”

“I saw that expression when you left,” he said. “You okay?”

The words caught in your throat. You didn’t know how to lie to him right now. There was a long pause. He didn’t push.

You stood slowly, crossed the room on quiet feet, and undid the lock. Your hand trembled just slightly on the doorknob before you opened it.

“…Come in.”

Sam stepped inside like he wasn’t sure you’d actually let him. His eyes scanned the room, your over-prepared salt lines, the open blade on the nightstand, the half-drunk beer. Then they found you again. That same look. Not pity. Not judgment. Just… something deeper.

And that, somehow, felt even worse.

He stood in the middle of your motel room like he didn’t want to make the first move. His arms were crossed, jaw tight, eyes scanning you, taking in every single tell. The clenched fists. The tension in your shoulders. The way your lip tugged between your teeth like you were trying to chew the fear out of your own mouth.

“You gonna say something?” you asked, voice quiet but sharp. Defensive. Like if he touched the wrong nerve, you might shatter or explode. You weren’t sure which.

Sam’s gaze softened a little, but it didn’t lose focus. “Did you really come in here just to sleep?”

That hit low. You turned away, busying yourself by pretending to adjust the salt line by the window. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re scared,” he said, blunt now. Voice low. Grounded. “Not of the hunt. Not of the monster. Of being its target. And I think you already know why.”

You felt your pulse in your throat, your fingers twitching at your sides. “So what? You gonna tell Dean? Put me on some kinda leash? Lock me in the car like a liability?”

He was behind you before you even heard his steps, like he didn’t want to scare you off. His voice brushed close to your neck. “No. I’m not gonna tell him anything. I’m not here to judge you. I’m here because…” He paused, like he needed to find the exact words. “Because if you are what this thing’s looking for, that means you’re in danger. Real, personal danger. And I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

You turned to face him, and suddenly he was close, his chest nearly brushing yours, his hand ghosting over the air between you like he was holding back from touching your face. His eyes were darker now, heavy with something that wasn’t just concern. “You don’t get it,” you said quietly. “You don’t know what it’s like… walking around with this stupid secret. Being the only one in the room who hasn’t— who isn’t—”

“A fuckin’ virgin?” Sam finished for you, gently but without hesitation. “Yeah, I got that part.”

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t look away. “…You think it makes me weak?”

His jaw flexed, and finally—finally—his hand came to your cheek, calloused thumb stroking just beneath your eye. “No,” he said, voice low and certain. “I think it makes you brave as hell for coming out here and hunting with us anyway. For pretending like it doesn’t matter when I can tell it’s tearing you apart inside.”

You felt something split wide open in your chest. A dam cracking. A truth you hadn’t let yourself say aloud. You were so tired of holding it in. Of hiding behind sharp jokes and harder walls.

“I didn’t plan on staying that way forever,” you murmured. “It just… didn’t happen. Didn’t feel right. Not yet.”

Sam’s thumb brushed your jaw. “And now?”

You swallowed. Looked up at him through your lashes. “Now I feel like a goddamn target. Like I’m marked. Like it’s this thing hanging over me and— Sam, I hate it. I hate being afraid.”

His lips hovered close to yours, voice a whisper against your skin. “Then let me help.”

You stared at him. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

There was no hesitation in his eyes. No pity. No lust-fueled pressure. Just heat. Control. Promise. He leaned in, mouth catching yours in a kiss that was patient but deep, like he’d been holding it back for too long. You melted against him before you could even think, hands grabbing the front of his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring you.

His tongue brushed yours and the groan he let out was filthy, like the taste of you knocked the breath out of him. “You taste so fucking sweet,” he muttered against your lips. “Been wondering what it’d feel like to kiss that mouth since you first mouthed off at me.”

You pulled back slightly, breathless. “That was, like… day three.”

Sam smiled, hand sliding down to the curve of your hip. “Yeah. I’m patient.”

You tugged his shirt off, finally getting your hands on all that muscle he kept hidden under layers. Broad chest, scarred and warm, his stomach taut under your fingers as he stepped you back toward the bed.

“You sure about this?” he asked one last time, voice rough but gentle.

You nodded. “I don’t want it to be fear that takes it away from me. I want you.”

That did something to him. His eyes darkened, and then he was all over you, mouth on your neck, hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you onto the bed like you weighed nothing. He kissed down your body like worship, like apology, like promise. Every touch was careful and intentional, but hungry. And when he finally pushed your thighs apart and knelt between them, he looked up at you like he was about to ruin you.

“I’m gonna make this good for you,” he murmured, voice so deep it made your toes curl. “So good you forget why you were scared at all. So good it won’t matter that you waited this long.”

You barely managed to gasp before his mouth was on you— hot, slow, skilled, tongue licking long deliberate strokes like he was memorizing every single sound you made. You clawed at the sheets, moaning his name like a prayer, and he just held you open with those strong hands, eating you out like he’d die if you pulled away.

And when you finally came, shaking and gasping, he kissed back up your body, slow and sweet. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, brushing his lips over your jaw. “Let me take care of the rest.”

Sam moved over you like he’d been dreaming about it. Like every moment leading up to this one had been some long, slow burn of almosts. Until now, until your back was arched against the bed and his body was finally settled between your thighs, all warmth and pressure and want. The motel room around you felt like it didn’t matter. The only thing real was him.

“You good?” he asked again, voice wrecked and whisper-rough, his fingers brushing your cheek while his other hand slowly guided his cock along your folds, teasing— not out of cruelty, but to give you time to breathe.

You nodded, but your voice cracked a little when you said, “Yeah. I want it.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, like he was trying to calm your heartbeat with his mouth. “Gonna go real slow,” he murmured, forehead pressed to yours. “You tell me if you want me to stop. You say the word, and I back off. No questions.”

“I won’t,” you whispered, hips already lifting to meet him. “I want you, Sam. Just you.”

And that made something shift in him.

The first push was gentle. He went slow, careful, watching your face the entire time, not even trying to hide how hard he was breathing. You were tight, hot, the stretch just on the edge of too much, and the feeling of him filling you had your eyes rolling back almost instantly.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, fingers gripping his shoulders. “Sam—”

“I know, baby. I know.” His voice was tight, controlled—like he was holding back a growl. “You feel—fuck—you feel perfect.”

He paused once he was buried inside, letting you adjust, kissing your neck and running one hand slowly up your thigh like it would help you relax. “Breathe,” he whispered. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good.”

You were trembling, half from nerves, half from the feeling of him, all of him, seated so deep inside you, stretching you open in a way that felt devastating and intimate all at once. You didn’t even realize tears were brimming at your lashes until Sam kissed one off your cheek. “You okay?” he murmured, thumb brushing under your eye again.

“I’m perfect,” you whispered. “Just—holy fuck—don’t stop.”

His hips pulled back slowly, and when he pushed in again, it was smoother. Still deliberate. Still slow, but deeper, more rhythmic, like he was finding his pace with you, tuning his body to yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and let your head fall back, moaning shamelessly as he started fucking you in deep, slow strokes that made your breath hitch every time he bottomed out.

“That’s it,” he grunted, forehead still pressed to yours, sweat beading at his temple. “Taking me so fuckin’ well, baby… I’ve got you. Just let go.”

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. The way he was moving slow, like worship, like he was trying to memorize every reaction was undoing you. His name kept falling from your lips, a quiet chant, the only word you could seem to remember.

Sam’s hand slid between your bodies, thumb pressing soft circles into your clit. You gasped, body jolting, and he smiled against your neck. “That feel good, sweetheart?” he whispered. “You like when I touch you like this?”

“Yes—yes, please, don’t stop—” Your voice broke again as pleasure started coiling hot and heavy in your belly. “I’m gonna—Sam—fuck—”

“I’ve got you,” he said again, voice so loving it hurt. “You can let go. You’re safe.”

You came around him hard, clenching so tightly around his cock that he had to bite his lip to keep it together. Your whole body tensed, then collapsed under him as you shook and gasped through it, and he held you like you were something precious, whispering through every tremor, every twitch.

“That’s it, that’s my girl… fuck, baby, you’re so beautiful like this…”

He kept moving, chasing his own high now, breath stuttering as he fucked into you deeper, a little faster, but never rough. His face was buried in your neck, hand gripping your thigh, and when he came, it was with a full-body groan, low and primal and wrecked. He buried himself to the hilt, hips stuttering, panting like he’d just run a marathon.

And then… silence.

Heavy breathing. Sweat-slick skin. The weight of him on top of you, solid and real and safe. You ran your fingers through his hair, and he let out the softest sound, content, like he didn’t want to move.

He stayed draped over you, all warmth and quiet breath, his hand still curled around your waist like he needed to keep you close in case you disappeared. You felt wrecked, in the best way.

After a while, Sam leaned up on his elbow, pushing the sweaty hair off your forehead, looking down at you like you were made of fucking starlight. “You okay?” he whispered, and his voice was so gentle, so low and fond, it made your throat get tight.

“Mhm,” you mumbled, already half-asleep, still spread out and naked beneath him. “I think you fixed me.”

Sam chuckled, brushing his lips over your temple. “I’m a healer now?”

“Literally,” you sighed. “Virginity demon who?”

He kissed your jaw. “She’s dead now. Spirit banished. World saved.”

You rolled into him, lazy grin pulling at your lips. “One orgasm at a time.”

“…One?”

You blinked up at him, then immediately burst out laughing as he smirked like the smug bastard he was. “Okay, chill, Winchester,” you groaned. “My body’s not even functioning yet.”

“I’ll give you thirty minutes,” he muttered, pulling you into his chest, tucking the blanket around both of you like you weren’t still sticky and sweaty and fucked dumb.

“I’m gonna fall asleep like this,” you whispered, fingers drawing little shapes on his bare chest.

“Good. You should.” His voice was all honey again. “You’re safe with me.”

And that was the last thing you heard before you drifted off, wrapped in Sam’s arms, thoroughly wrecked and absolutely ruined for anyone who wasn’t a 6’4” soft-spoken demon hunter who fucked like he was trying to put your soul back together.

You were finally asleep. Your legs were tangled with Sam’s, your head tucked under his chin, and his hand was still splayed across your ass like it belonged there. Which, to be fair, it did. The room was still warm with sex and body heat and whatever leftover cologne he wore that now lived in your hair.

Until the door slammed open like it was kicked by a cop.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

You screamed. Like, full-on choked gasp scream. Sam jolted awake with military precision, reaching for the knife on the nightstand in one motion while covering you with his body in the next.

And standing in the doorway, framed by shitty motel light and holding a crumpled paper bag full of snacks, was Dean Winchester.

Mouth open. Eyes wide. Face full of regret.

He blinked twice. Said nothing.

You just stared at each other.

“…Dude,” Sam said groggily, arm still around you like he didn’t have his whole ass out under the sheet. “What the fuck.”

Dean blinked again. “Nah.”

He turned around immediately. Stared at the wall. Took a breath.

“Oh, no, no no no, this is not happening. This is not how I start my fuckin’ morning. I got beef jerky and a Coke and now I have to go pour bleach in my brain because my little brother decided to go all Lust in the Dust with her.”

You groaned, flopping onto your back and dragging the sheet over your head like a corpse. “Please kill me. Please kill me now.”

“Don’t tempt me!” Dean yelled, still facing the wall with his arms out like he was trying to keep a crime scene untouched. “I trusted you! You were the normal one! You sat next to me during stakeouts! You made fun of him with me! What the hell?!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever made fun of Sam with you—” you started to say, but Dean spun around dramatically, index finger raised like a furious little league coach.

“Don’t lie to me now, sex goblin! I walked in and saw a whole-ass Winchester sandwich with the crusts off, and I can’t ever go back from that!”

Sam had the audacity to rub his eyes and mumble, “You could’ve knocked, dude.”

“Oh, don’t you start,” Dean snapped, pacing now. “I’ve heard you. I knew you were in here. I was trying to be respectful. I thought, ‘Hey, they probably just fell asleep watching TV, maybe they’re sharing the room, maybe Sam’s just being weird and overprotective, maybe she had a nightmare..’ BUT NO.”

He spun to face you both again, looking personally betrayed.

“Y’all were out here doing the monster mash and I walked in ten seconds too late to stop my retinas from dissolving.”

You peeked out from under the covers. “We didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

“Oh really?” Dean scoffed. “How were you planning to tell me? Group text? PowerPoint? Smoke signals from your fucking bedroom?!”

Sam sighed. “Dean—”

“No. No ‘Dean.’ I need to go shower with holy water. I need a therapist. I need Castiel to erase the last ten minutes of my life.”

He turned back toward the door, paused dramatically, and looked over his shoulder with the most betrayed face known to man.

“I hope you know,” he said solemnly, “that I will never sit on that bed again.”

The door slammed, and you and Sam burst into quiet laughter, already knowing this was going to be the story Dean never lets you forget.

taglist; @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @mostlymarvelgirl @freeluigihesbae @impala67rollingthroughtown @multiversefanfics @starzify @ladykitana90 @idontwannabehere78 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @pieandflannel @tendertulip @tinas111 @everythingisaspectrum @pennywatsonlafayette @lunaleah @anxiety-prime-max @amsliajskxkxkx @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @kimxwinchester @incubusimmolation @riteofpassage77 @ohangeleyes @kcundercover4 @southernimpala @laceandlipstick @bowbowrry @fernsplace ⊹ ࣪ ˖

۶ৎ wanna be tagged too?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading! read more of my works @ masterlist.

[daryldixonapolgist]

So beautiful- Jax teller.

Summary: Reader had an encounter with a crow eater had made some nasty comments about her body, Jax shows her how pretty she is.

Warnings: unprotected sex (always practice safe sex), p in v, doubts about readers body.

————————————————————————

You were stood in front of the bathroom mirror, your shirt pulled up, you were poking and prodding at your stomach. A crow eater had said something to you about your body out of jealousy of you being Jax’s old lady a few days ago, the weight still heavy on your shoulders.

You quickly pulled your shirt down over your stomach as you hear the front door open and the familiar sound of Jax’s shoes.

“Babe?!” Jax calls out, pulling his kutte and shoes off.

“In here!” You call back, wiping your eyes quickly.

Jax walks into the bathroom, his steps slowing as he sees the redness of your face. He grabs your chin softly, tilting it up to face him.

“What happened?” He says, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes full with worry.

“It’s nothing, just in my head.” You offer him a weak smile, deciding against telling him about the croweater.

“I’ve known you for fourteen years, Y/n, you can’t lie to me. Talk to me darlin’.” He says, his voice soft.

“Just..some stupid shit a croweater had said, it’s fine, really.” You sniffle, turning your gaze away from him.

“What’d she say?” His face hardens, his hand moving down to your waist as the two of you make eye contact through the mirror.

“That with “all the weight” I put on after having Thomas she was surprised you hadn’t left.” You say quietly, avoiding his gaze in the mirror.

His jaw clenches, his hands slide around to your stomach and his head drops to your shoulder.

“You’re beautiful baby, you carried a whole damn human for fucks sake. Don’t listen to that bullshit, yea?” He says, kissing down your shoulder.

“I just don’t see what you see Jax” You say, your voice still quiet.

Jax looks up from your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “Let me show you what I see then.”

—————————————————————————-

And that’s how you ended up bent over the counter, Jax buried deep inside of you. One hand holding your hip and the other holding your hair so you’re staring at yourself being pounded into by the man you love so deeply.

“See that baby, you see how beautiful you are? All mine.” He groans out through the sound of your ass slapping against his pelvis.

Your eyes flutter shut, your lips parted as soft moans slide out like a melody to Jax’s ears.

“Wanna hear you say how pretty you are.” Jax says, pulling you up so your arched back against him, his head dropping to kiss your neck.

“Fuck jax, can’t.” You say, your face flushed with a slight red color from the feeling of him hitting the right spot every time.

Jax makes a sound of disapproval, stopping his thrusts abruptly. Causing you to let out a whine and open your eyes.

“What the hell?” You say through pants, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

“Tell me how beautiful you are, need to know you know your worth pretty girl.” Jax says, nipping on your shoulder gently.

“Are you serious?” You say, your chest heavy from the moment you and Jax were just sharing.

Jax gives you a pointed look, one that says he was dead serious.

“I..I’m beautiful, I know my worth. Please.” You plead.

Jax gives you a smug grin before continuing his thrusts, his hand drops from your hair. You lean forward, your hands holding you up as you lean against the bathroom counter. Jax stares at your fucked out face through the mirror.

He drops one hand, running it down your stomach before settling on your clit and running slow figure eights over it. Your body jerks, your mouth flying open to let out a sound that would probably wake Abel and Thomas. Jax recognizes the familiar face, his hand flies up to cover your mouth.

“You close baby? Gonna cover my cock in all your pretty little juices like a good girl? Hm?” Jax teases, you nod quickly.

Jax speeds his thrusts up, the sound of skin slapping against each other fills the bathroom and your stomach gets that knot in it.

You moan as you feel yourself come undone, it being muffled by Jax’s hand. His thrusts come to a stop, he kisses down your back softly.

“Did so good for me baby, so good.” He mumbles into your skin, he pulls away to grab a towel and runs it under the warm water to clean you up.

Your breathing is heavy, your mind foggy. “You aren’t gonna finish?” You ask, clearly confused.

Jax throws the towel into the hamper as he finishes, padding over to the shower so the two of you can get in.

“Nah darlin’, was all about you. I’ll get my fill later.” He gives you a smug smile before leaning over to kiss a kiss on your forehead.

You watch as he turns the shower on, wondering how he can go from a cold blooded club leader to the softest man you’ve seen.

[secretlysamcro]

PART ONE

Female reader x Jax Teller explicit language | smut: unprotected sexy time! Giving & receiving head, some hand action and probably what I’d say the best smut I’ve ever written?| 1st person y/n pov | drug abuse mention | tiniest tiniest nod to possible abortion. If you are under the age of 18, dislike any of said topics, or haven't finished the show, please read no further.

taglist: @daryldixonswifesworld @fallout-girl219 @wish-upon-a-star-1310 @thoughtfullyfurryangel @steffieswifeyyy @mylifeisanoxymoron21 @hannahmmarie2016 @wish-upon-a-star-1310 @steffieswifeynwacc @bonnyclydecat

Two and a half years. That’s how long it’s been since the night me and Jax became one for the first time. Since all the stolen glances, the hidden touches and everything else that came along with it. Two and a half years since he’s stepped outside those prison walls. Two and a half years since he’s tucked his little boy in to sleep at night.

All I’ve had is letters, scheduled visits and phone calls. But it hasn’t been enough. Part of it scares me if I’m being honest, yeah I’ve been nannying for him this whole fucking time but we’ve never actually been “together” outside of the prison walls, and now that his release date is coming up, due to good behaviour, part of me is worried that shit might not be the same, that maybe he’d change his mind, maybe he’d realise it wouldn’t work.

But I’m hoping, I’m fucking praying from the depths within that it won’t be like that. Even though we’ve been in contact sporadically over the years, well hardly ever. Fuck...I’ve fallen in love with him more and more every single day, even with his prolonged absence.

He tells me though. Tells me how proud of me he is. That I’ve fallen into the role without any hiccups. Which I guess was a little bit easy, you know spending most of my time with him and his family anyway.

I know my way around, his schedule, their routine. But he says he can’t thank me enough, for what I’ve done for his boy whilst he’s been inside. And Abel? He even calls me Mommy now.

"y/n, sweetheart...you okay?" Gemma's voice cuts through my thoughts.

I turn, still leaning slightly against the bar "Yeah, I just..." a breathy laugh slips out, "...I just feel...nervous?" Better to say nervous than admit I'm actually about to shit myself.

Gemma gives her usual knowing hum. Eyes flicking over my shoulder to where Unser's posted up watching Abel. "Makes sense, baby. But you've done good. Real good sweetie. You stepped up when Jax and Abel needed you most. Shit, when I needed you." Her hand slides, grabbing my arm. "I couldn't have done this without you y/n. You're family now, you understand me?"

My throat tightens as I glance at the clock, "Yeah" I manage to breathe out, pushing away from the bar and turning to walk out.

"Gemma?" I stop, spinning on my heel to face her again.

"Yeah sweetie?"

"You sure it's right? Not telling Jax about Wendy showing back up?"

Her jaw ticks as she steps closer, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The touch somewhat possessive.

"It'll do nothin' but stir shit darlin'. Let sleeping junkies lie”

“But she’s clean she-”

“Just leave shit alone y/n. You hear me sweetie?"

Engines roar outside, deep and thunderous cutting the conversation short. Fuck. My stomach hollows and everything drops inside.

He's here.

Gemma's lip curls into that trademark smile, all fucking Teller.

"Daddy's home" Her arm hooks through mine and she pulls me towards the door.

The second the cool air hits my face, I see him.

Swinging his leg off his Dyna like the world hasn't shifted and rebuilt itself in the time he's been gone. His helmet comes off, eyes sweeping the lot. Fuck, he's beautiful. The buzz cut's grown in rough at the edges, like prison time spat him out harder and meaner than when he went in.

My feet stay rooted, I stay standing back, not rushing forward letting him have this moment with the rest of the guys, his Mom, son and his new freedom.

"y/n?"

Gemma notices me standing back, Abel balancing on her hip until she strolls over pressing him into my arms. His little hands grabbing at my tee.

"Family" she says. The words land like a promise. Not the nanny. Not the girl who stayed behind. His. Abel's. Jax's. Gemma's. The club's. Family.

Gemma gives me a small nod, ushering me forward and the world narrows to the weight in my arms and the man just a few feet ahead.

I move forward, Abel's legs bouncing against my hip, matching the beat of my racing heart. Everything feels slow, like the world around us is holding its breath. The crowd gathered between us parts like the red sea and bodies start shifting and all eyes follow.

Then, his eyes find mine, like a light at the end of the longest tunnel.

"Daddy!" Abel screeches, his little voice high and excited. It's the first time he's seen Jax face to face. Course they talked on the phone, little scribbled letters here and there but Gemma and Jax didn't want him anywhere near the prison.

Jax strides towards us as everything and everyone dissolves, just the three of us in this little moment. He wraps an arm around both of us, pulling us in like he's afraid to let go. He places a kiss to Abel's head, then one to mine but quickly like he can't trust himself with anything deeper just yet. I can't speak. I can barely breathe. My chest feels too full and too empty all at the same time.

Abel reaches for him, tiny fingers grabbing at the leather he hasn't touched in so long. Jax scoops him from my arms with that effortless Dad strength, swaying him side to side as they take each other in for the first time in almost three years.

"Daddy missed you" he breathes into his son's hair. His voice so soft. The kind of soft he only ever uses for his boy.

"Are the animals okay Daddy?" Abel asks, his big innocent eyes blinking up at his Father like he can't wait any longer to get the answer. For a second, confusion flickers across Jax's face. His brows pinching in the middle, like his mind is trying to catch up to a life he hasn't been here for.

"The animals...at the cabin?" I remind him softly, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I remember the reason Jax gave Abel for his sudden disappearance.

A light sparks in Jax's eyes as the memory slots back into place. The laugh he lets out is soft. "The animals" he echoes, ruffling his boys hair.

"Yeah, buddy. They're all good. Took Daddy a long time, but they're all good now"

The familiar click of Gemma's heels against the pavement causes us to turn and look her way.

"Grandma! Grandma! Daddy's back!" Abel beams, moving his little arms to loop tight around his Daddy’s neck.

"Hi baby" Gemma smiles at Jax, her tone dipping into that softer side. She reaches up cupping Jax's face like he's a little boy again.

"I'm so happy you're home"

She pulls him in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, her hand lingering by the pocket of his jeans, as she smiles between him and Abel. For a moment, it's just them. Mother, Son and Grandson. Then Jax shifts Abel higher on his hip and extends his free hand towards me without hesitation.

"C'mere" he murmurs as his fingers catch mine, pulling me into the circle. The four of us pressed together like family stitched back together right in the middle of the SAMCRO lot.

"Missed you so fuckin' much, babe" He barely gets the words out before he has me pushed against the back of the dorm door, his hands everywhere. Sliding over my waist, my hips, my tits. Like he can't get close enough fast enough.

I gasp into his mouth, fingers threading into the front of his kutte. "Missed you too" I whisper between kisses, tugging him closer.

"Jesus" he mutters, lips dragging across the edge of my jaw. "Been thinkin' about you and that tight pussy 24 fuckin' 7. I just wanna-"

"JACKIE BOY!"

Chibs' Scottish drawl rattles the frame. "Give the girl a bloody chance! Get out here, yer ma wants ye!"

I laugh against Jax's chest, and he drops his head dramatically with a moan lifting both middle fingers towards the door. "Yeah, yeah...we're comin'" he calls back, dragging a hand down his face then adjusting his jeans with a muttered curse.

"When we get home" I murmur, fingers brushing lightly against his as I give him one more slow kiss. "We have all the time in the world"

His annoyed frown melts into a smile. "Countin' on it".

The clubhouse finally feels alive again. The atmosphere in the air is just how it used to be, it's like the whole place finally exhaled after holding its breath for too long. There's something beautiful about a bunch of rough men letting themselves feel, even if it is loud and messy.

The welcome home chaos has slowly melted into the usual kind of madness. Happy looks ready to fight, fuck or sleep, whichever comes first.

Opie took Lyla and the kids home hours ago. I cant thank Opie enough, At first I thought he was pissed about me and Jax getting together, but after he'd been locked up I understood it. He was just looking out for me, making sure I knew what I was getting myself into. He's really helped me through a lot of shit in the past 2 years, Lyla too.

Jax is across the room, cornered by Gemma. They're talking low, faces close both of them wearing that serious look that never means anything simple. I can't hear a word, but it looks secretive. She keeps tapping at his jeans pocket, and my minds drifts back to earlier, how her hand lingered there. Jax catches me watching and gives me one of his subtle chin tilts, the one that says 'I see you, give me a minute'.

Abel's nearby, somehow still awake, standing beside Rat, who's trying to explain how to play pool. The cue's taller than he is bless him and Rats way too drunk to be teaching anyone anything. I can't help but smile as I walk over, slipping my arms around Abel and lifting him up against my hip.

"We goin' home now Mommy?" My heart still jumps every time he calls me that.

"Yeah baby. We'll go say bye to Grandma and see what Daddy's doing, okay?" He nods sleepily against my shoulder.

I rub a hand across Rat's back before walking away, thanking him for keeping Abel entertained as long as he did. He grins swaying a little mumbling something about being "the best damn babysitter in Charming" I laugh, shaking my head.

He's been good to us Rat has, all of them really. Checking in every morning, Jax's orders I'm guessing. Either way, they made sure I never felt out of place. Shit happened fast, yeah but they never once made me feel like I didn't belong.

Abel mumbles something about his blanket as I strap him into his car seat. I make sure to place it over him gently before shutting the car door softly. When I climb into the passenger seat, Jax is already watching me. One hand on the wheel and the other resting against his thigh. That crooked smile already on his face, eyes holding that same hungry kind of longing that catches me off guard.

"What?" I ask, a little laugh escaping under my breath.

He shakes his head, eyes never leaving mine.

"Nothin'. I just...fuck y/n. I fuckin' love you darlin'"

The words land so fucking deep, my cheeks burning as the words leave my mouth.

"I love you too Jax"

I grin, looking back between him and Abel. His hand finds mine, his thumb tracing lazy circles over my heated skin and somewhere under that warmth, a tiny sting of guilt sparks. Wendy flickering in the back of my mind, with Gemma's warning echoing right after. I squeeze his hand tighter, forcing the thought away.

The knock came just as the microwaved dinged, letting us know the popcorn was ready.

"One second baby" I said, brushing a kiss over Abel's hair. "Let me get the door, then we'll start the movie, okay?"

He nodded from the couch, legs tucked under a blanket as the menu screen for Toy Story 2 flickered. Our little friday ritual, he'd pick a movie every week that we'd sit and watch as I mentally counted down how many movies left until he’d be home.

I padded towards the door, expecting it to be Gemma on the porch with her usual bottle of white wine and a smirk. But it wasn't.

She was blonde, hair in a messy halo of waves. She had a leather satchel slung over one shoulder and boots that were clearly made for walking. She didn't look familiar to me, and for a moment she didn't even look at me. Her eyes were over my shoulder, looking into the house.

"Uh...hi?" I said carefully.

"Jax here?" she questioned with a voice that went straight through me. The way she said his name was so casual, like she was used to using it.

"No..." I say slowly "He's not home"

she frowned clearly impatient, moving a hand to her hip. "When will he be back?"

"He's...away right now"

Her eyes narrowed as the frustration began to slowly show "Away? what's that supposed to mean?"

Before I could even think of an answer, a gentle little voice came from behind me.

"Mommy? can we...can we start the movie now?

I bend down to him, taking his hand in mine "Yeah, baby. Just give Mommy one second okay?"

He nodded but his eyes drifted up towards the stranger, he blinked at her before shuffling back into the living room. When I stood to face her again, she looked as if she was holding her breath and her eyes were glassy, fixed on where Abel had just been standing.

"Mommy?" she repeated, "He calls you Mommy?"

Her voice cracked with every word, I couldn't work out why. Maybe anger or hurt but something...something wasn't right.

"Jesus Christ" she scoffed, pushing her hair away from her face. "He's got my son callin' some other woman Mommy already?"

The words slammed into me. I pulled the door halfway closed behind me, like I was trying to physically block her from seeing inside.

"Wendy" the words leave my mouth with a sharp nod of my head.

"And you are?"

"y/n"

"y/n...you wanna tell me why my son thinks you're his Mommy" she air quotes the last word. "He doesn't...he only just..."

Heat rose in my chest, the anger bubbling so fast I didn't even know what to say. I wasn't prepared for this, for her return. I don't think anyone was. But thankfully, before I could form some sort of response, tires crunched in the driveway, Gemma's SUV pulling up.

"Great" Wendy muttered whilst rolling her eyes. "The devil incarnate"

Gemma climbed out, sunglasses perched on her head and she zoned straight in on Wendy. Her eyebrows arched as she looked over to me with an expression that asked a million questions.

"Look what crawled back into Charming" her voice was cold, eyes deadlocked onto Wendy's. In the quickest of movements she grabbed wendys arm, looking for fresh tracks I assumed.

"Gemma, I’m Clean. Look please I just I want to see my-" Wendy started, but didn't get to finish.

"No. You listen to me…" Gemma’s tone rose as she stepped right into Wendy's space, fingers pointed and then, as if she just remembered I was present, she turned to me. "y/n sweetie, you wanna check on Abel?"

That was her telling me this was none of my fucking business.

I ducked away, peeking into the living room. Abel still waited patiently on the couch, staring at the still picture of Woody and Buzz on the screen. I let out a sharp breath and slipped into the kitchen, where I could still see the front porch through the window.

I couldn't make out the words properly, but I saw Wendy's hands come up like she was trying to explain herself, Gemma’s face barely moved except for the slight tilt of smirk. She then leaned in close, the lines around her eyes deepened. Whatever she said made Wendy flinch hard, her tears spilling before she could even stop them.

Then she turned fast, storming towards her car before getting in, the tires screeching as she tore away. Gemma stayed out there for a moment, her eyes followed the taillights until they disappeared. Then, calm as ever she made her way indoors.

"That never happened" she said to me, her voice harsh, clearly a warning. She then walked over to Abel with that beaming Grandmother smile, sitting down next to him as her mask slipped back into place.

Jax slowly pulls Abel's bedroom door shut, careful not to make a sound. He stands there for a moment, palm still resting against the doorframe like he's taking it all in. And of course he fucking is. Its been nearly three years since he's been able to tuck his boy in at night. The last time, there were tears. Tears of fear and pain, but this time, the tears are from relief, from finally having the most important thing back after feeling like he'd never get it again.

He turns around, our eyes meeting and mirroring each others. Wet and glistening. He shakes his head like he's trying to keep shit together, wiping at an escaped tear with the heel of his hand.

"I can't thank you enough y/n" he says, pulling me into him, his arms wrapping around tight as he presses a kiss to the crown of my head.

"Taking care of my boy like he was your own..." he mumbles into my hair "Steppin' into this life without a fuckin' blink. A lotta people woulda run, but you..." He pulls me closer, so tight it feels like he's scared someone might drag him back to Stockton.

"...you stayed" he whispers, "And I'm so fuckin' in love with you for it...amongst other things" He chuckles lightly, reaching round to cup my ass.

I tilt my head up, grinning softly through the emotions "Yeah?" I tease, nudging him gently.

"Yeah" he echoes like its the easiest truth he's ever had to speak.

I slip my fingers through his, feeling his hand tighten around mine instantly, I tug gently, guiding him down the hall, towards his bedroom. Our bedroom.

As soon as we step into our space, its like something breaks in him. He pulls me in deep, kissing me like he's been starved for years - which I guess is true. His hands run over me in frantic sweeps, like he needs to feel every inch of my body just to prove to himself that this is real, that he's really home and I'm really here.

The force of it steals every detail I had planned for tonight. The playlist I made, the way I meant to draw this out so fucking slowly, tease him till he'd literally combust. Even the glittery black lingerie tucked neatly in my top draw slips from my mind the second his mouth meets mine.

But its perfect without all that.

The way he's touching me isn't about seduction. It's about relief. Two years of wanting and need in one fucking moment. He pulls back for a second, just enough for me to take every part of him in. His tall frame silhouetted against the faint strip of light peeking in through the blinds, the rest of the room swallowed in darkness. His hands stay firm on my arms as he looks down at me. The silence in the air thick, the only sound is our breathing coming out in uneven huffs that meet somewhere in the middle.

He raises one hand, slowly brushing his knuckles along my cheek before his thumb trails the line of my jaw and then drags lightly across my bottom lip. I lean into his touch without even thinking. I know he's played this moment out in his head as many times as I have.

Then his hands are gone. His warmth disappears from my skin and before I can even chase it, he steps back, even in the low light I can tell his eyes are locked on mine.

He lifts his white tee over his head, before his fingers move to his belt, the soft clink of metal separating causing fire to flood through every nerve in my body. Then, steps out of his socks, boxers and jeans leaving a crumpled pile of clothing beside him.

Jax stands there completely bare and unguarded in that way that makes my heart throb. He gives me a slow nod, his wordless way of telling me its my turn.

I slip out of my sliders, my toes pressing lightly against the hardwood. My leggings are next. I pull them down slow, bending slightly but never breaking eye contact. I catch the way his gaze flicks to the mirror behind me. How he takes in the shadow of every angle and every curve, before his blue eyes come right back to meet mine. I’m now left standing in my underwear.

I've been with men before in my past. But none of them, and I mean none of them have ever made me feel this safe standing this bare. There's no shame, nothing but trust and love.

My fingers hook into the waistline of my panties as I move them down slowly, kicking them off my feet causing them to land at his.

When my eyes trail upwards from the floor, his fist is already squeezing tight around the base of his cock then moving upwards as he begins stroking himself to the sight of me stood in front of him. As soon as I catch the movement of his hand the swell of my clit finds its own heartbeat.

I slip out of my bra, tits bouncing free and my peaked nipples showing Jax just how much I truly want him, if he couldn’t already tell from the slickness coating the skin between my thighs.

We stand there, staring at each other like neither of us know who deserves to make the first move. But I can't wait, not one more fucking second. I rush forward at the exact moment he does, our bodies colliding with such a force it nearly knocks the breath out of me.

His hand flies up gripping at the back of my neck with a desperate claiming hold. For every push of my tongue, his pull is ten times harder. He walks me backwards step by step until the backs of my legs hit the edge of the bed and I fall back with a small gasp as the mattress dips beneath me.

He uses a knee to nudge mine apart, pushing my thighs wide open so I'm laid out and ready for him to take. He kisses at my neck as his hands grab at my tits, before trailing lower till his fingers swim through my folds, teasing me with every touch.

I moan his name into his mouth as he whispers how much he loves me into mine. His kisses travel lower and lower until he finally reaches a place he's never touched with his mouth before.

The grip on my inner thighs is brutal as he folds me open for him to devour me as he pleases. He does these soothing little licks against my clit as he surges his middle finger in and out of me.

“Even better than I fuckin’ dreamed” “Jax-” I gasp at the sensation his tongue causes as he drowns himself in me. “Fuck y/n you taste...so. Fucking. Good.” Another moan leaves me as I grip the back of his head, the outgrown stubble causing friction against my skin but in this moment I couldn’t give a fuck.

He was making me feel so fucking good. I wanted, no, needed to return the favour. I push his head away quickly, sitting up and repositioning myself. “darlin’...” he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand “What-” “Lie down” I instruct, and he does so without any fucking hesitation.

I hover over him, his stiff cock directly below my aching hole. But that’s not what I want right now, I still want his mouth against my pussy, I just wanna do something for him too.

So I lower myself down onto him slightly off centre in a reverse cowgirl position, I can tell he’s a little confused that I don't sink straight down onto him. But when I scoot back a little, he gets exactly what I'm tryna do.

He grabs me by the ass pulling me back into his mouth, pressing a hand against my lower back arching me so I’m in the perfect position for him. And now, he’s in the most perfect position for me. I grab his cock, squeezing the base before gripping upwards, my forefinger grazing against the underside of his tip causing him to suck in air through his teeth. I flick against the precum, the salty sweetness coating my tongue like an after dinner treat. He moans into my pussy, his whole mouth trapping my pleasure as he sucks me up in that painful pleasurable way.

I grind slowly into him as my head bobs and my cheeks hollow. I ignore the gag reflex, the spit flowing out my mouth in long glistening streaks.

It’s good, so fucking good, but it’s not enough. And he must have that same exact thought at the same time as me cause he slaps my ass ushering me to get up.

“Can’t wait any longer darlin’”

But he doesn’t move, just spins me round to face him guiding me on top. I throw my leg over him, my hands pressed against the groove of his abs. I don’t let him enter straight away. I slide up and down his shaft, it makes me shudder every time his tip rubs against my clit.

“Shit, y/n stop fuckin’ teasin’ me” he winces grabbing my hips pushing me into place. I slide up his length once more before his tip nudges at my entrance.

I exhale a moan, reaching behind me grabbing his girth to guide him in. Before I close my eyes in my own pleasure I see the way he stutters and his eyes screw shut. My fingertips lazily trace the new additions to his skin. Rough scars have found a home on his chest, just below his ‘Abel’ tattoo. I wanna ask how he got them, who the fuck did this to him, but I know nows not the time.

“Jesus fuck-” his sentence is cut short by the deepest groan I’ve ever heard as he pushes all the way home.

We fuck like we're making up for every night we spent apart, and there's no denying that's exactly what's happening. His mouth ghosts over my nipples as I lean forward, rolling my body against his in soft little movements, his hands roaming my back and hips like he's trying to learn every inch of me.

"Been waitin' for this day darlin'" he whispers against my skin causing all the heat to rush up my spine.

I slide my hands to either side of his waist, using his godly body to balance myself as I rise over him in a squatting position. I drag my pussy up and off him to the point where its just the tip inside before lowering myself back down again, my ass meeting flush against his pelvis with that beautiful clapping sound.

My thighs tremble from both the strain of the position and the intensity in his eyes as he looks up at me, his hands now placed beneath my thighs like my very own seat, controlling my movements with a gentleness that doesn't match the hunger behind it. When my body needs a second to adjust, I collapse against him. My chest pressed to his and my shaking breath warm against the skin of his throat.

"So fuckin' beautiful y/n" he murmurs into me "and I'm never gonna let you forget it" His big, solid arms wrap around me instantly as he pulls me tight against him as if he's trying to shield me from the entire world.

Then he moves beneath me, guiding my hands behind my back, his fingers closing around my wrists in one easy hold pinning them there with a strength made to restrain. His free hand comes up to my face gripping my jaw firmly, tilting my head so I have no choice but to look at him. The expression on his face is so fucking desperate as he jackhammers into me.

God he's so beautiful.

"Can I..." he breathes, the words barely forming. His forehead presses to mine and his eyes flutter shut as he holds me close.

"Can I..."

"Can you what Jax?" I ask, brushing my lips against his jaw "What do you need from me baby?"

His grip tightens, steadying himself inside me, his hips bucking upwards in torturous movements.

"Can I come in you?" he begs the question so innocently, nothing like the confident, commanding man I'm used to.

"Jax...you don't have to ask me that. I- I want you too"

His breath shudders against my bottom lip "Yeah?"

"Yeah" I whisper my voice cracking with need "I need you too." The moment I give him my answer, it’s like everything inside him cracks open. He pulls me against him so tightly it feels like he’s trying to fuse us together. His breath dances against my shoulder and when I turn my head ever so slightly to meet his eyes I’m almost sure they’re shining with tears.

His upward strokes are almost too much for me to take, he’s stretching me in the most painful yet beautiful of ways, hitting the sweetest spot inside me. My hands spread across his chest again and the way he’s looking up at me, fucking hell. His eyes are winced shut and his lips are parted round soft unguarded moans that he’s struggling to hold back.

“Jax…” I moan moving my hand to brush against his cheekbone. “Baby, look at me”

“Darlin…I” his shaky hands slide up the sides of my body “You’re killin me…you’re so- fucckkkkk”

A helpless moan escapes his mouth, making me even wetter than I ever imagined I could be.

“Baby…please” he whispers, his head pressed back into the pillow “Just like that. Stay slow baby, Jesus….fuck don’t stop”

My whimper shivers out of me as I move with him, slow enough making us both ache.

“I love you” he pleads “I love you so fuckin’ much”

My heart and pussy clench painfully “I love you too” my hands now cupping his face with both hands “I love you Jax. I love you. I love you”

Our breaths and moans tangle as the world narrows in on us. The feeling starts to build overwhelmingly fast as he clutches at my hips pulling me against him to deepen his position.

“J-Jax” I gasp against his lips “I’m-I’m gonna come”

His eyes fly open desperate and still shining. “Me too baby. Don’t…don’t let go yet please…fuckkkkk you feel s-so fuckin’ good”

“I’m not…I’m not letting go Jax. Come with me Jax…fuck…please”

And when I finally fall apart, he follows instantly like his body was waiting for permission from mine first. His arms crush me to him again still shaking as he lets out the most vulnerable sound I’ve ever heard from him.

When our highs finally fade, he rolls me gently onto my back, shuffling until he’s half on top of me. He kisses my lips softly, then makes his way to my temple as his hand slides down, his fingers threading with mine before he lifts our tangled hands up and presses a slow kiss to my knuckles.

“I love you” I whisper.

He smirks against my skin. “I love you too y/n” he kisses my hand again, even softer this time.

Silence settles between us but there’s a question eating at the back of my mind. I bite my lip debating to ask, and then I finally do.

“Why did you ask?…” I question “To…you know, why did you ask this time?”

He lets out a breath, like he’s been carrying something for too long.

“Thought about that night a lot when I was inside” he admits quietly. “Our first time. We were so fuckin’ new darlin’ I mean…we didn’t really know anything about us, like what you wanted or how you felt about stuff like that”

He brushes a damp strand of hair from my forehead, his thumb lingering where he left it.

“So I assumed” he continues “figured you were on the pill. Didn’t really think to check, didn’t think to ask I just…I had a lot of nights sittin’ in that cell wonderin’ what would of happened if you did get pregnant”

I’m captured by the sincerity in his eyes.

“After some time I obviously realised you weren’t, or if you were you…” he shakes his head, stumbling over his words “…did something or whatever. Which is under…I’d understand if you did…sorry I’m rambling I just mean…I realised what a dumbass I’d been makin’ that choice without even askin’”

“I was…on the pill” I whisper, snuggling closer into his chest. “Jax it didn’t even cross my mind, I wasn’t upset you didn’t ask, we were so caught up and it was fucking beautiful.” I giggle at the memory of our first time. “And I wasn’t ever pregnant Jax, believe me if I was you’d be the first to know no matter what. I wouldn’t keep something like that from you. I’d never keep secrets” I swallow the guilt of the current secret.

He nods, silently thanking me for the reassurance.

“My point is…I asked this time because I didn’t wanna assume nothin’ about you again. I needed your answer” he hesitates at the next words “and because…I wouldn’t mind if it happened”

My breath catches in my throat but he continues, barely above a whisper.

“I’m not sayin’ right now, not sayin’ it’s something we gotta do. I mean shit, I don’t even know if you want kids but if it ever happened…if you ever told me you were pregnant…” his eyes are shining again “It wouldn’t scare me”

“It wouldn’t scare me either Jax”

Jax and the others have been home almost three weeks now, and I still catch myself stopping mid sentence just to breathe it all in, making sure this isn't just another dream I'm about to wake up from. Its fucking amazing having him back home, but the best part? Abel's little face every morning when he pads into kitchen bed hair on full display and he spots his Daddy already waiting for him. The cutest fucking thing ever.

"Hey Gem" I murmur, walking into the kitchen. She leans in, planting a quick kiss on my cheek.

"Where are our boys?" I yawn, stretching my arms as I glance around the kitchen. Abel's favourite cereal bowl already washed and drying in the rack with Jax's coffee mug sitting beside it.

"Our boys..." she repeats with a little smirk "...decided to go on a little morning adventure" she gives me that look, the one that proves she knows exactly where they are but she's holding off on that little detail.

"Oh" I say, trying to play it cool even though a small, stupid pang of jealousy flickers through me. I move to the coffee machine, its still hot so I pour myself a cup.

"They've been gone about an hour" Gemma adds casually. "I doubt they'll be out all day. Jax said he didn't wanna wake you" her lips curve into that familiar grin "Still makin' up for lost time, huh?"

I laugh into my coffee, using it as a shield to hide my embarrassment.

She watches me for a second longer before sighing and shifting her purse up her shoulder. "Well I'm headin' out. Chuckie called. Says some unruly asshole's refusin' to pay what they owe" She dips her hand into her purse and raises her gun "Think this'll make em think twice?"

"Gemma, really?" I raise an eyebrow "Do you ever not enjoy threatening people?"

She grins, already halfway out the door. "See ya round, sweetheart"

I spend the next hour doing the usual everyday shit like picking up stray toys, straightening Abel’s sheets. Then I I have a quick shower, changing into the comfiest lounge set I own before I begin to finish folding the endless pile of faded jeans and identical white tees. Somehow, even that feels good. More proof that my man’s really home.

A little while later I hear a car pull up and my heart kicks. I can’t wait to hear what my boys got up to but then there’s a knock, so it’s not Jax cause he woulda used his key.

I open the door halfway, and Wendy's standing there with her arms wrapped around herself. She looks pale and shaken, and begins wiping at tears that wont stop falling.

"Don't shut it" she blurts out, "Just...please...don't shut it" She steps back like she expects me to slam it in her face. If Jax or Gemma were home, that’s exactly what they’d expect me to do too.

My fingers loosen on the door, looking down the road both ways just to make sure there's no eyes on us.

"I know, I know I'm not supposed to be here" she says softly, "I swear, I'm not here to cause any kinda t-trouble I just..."

“You just what Wendy?” I say, my eyes narrowing at her.

"I just...wanted to thank you" her chin wobbles and I glance behind her again "I heard about Jax, where he's been" she whispers "And for him to leave Abel here with you...for Gemma to allow that...you must be special...to him...to them" she covers her mouth, choking on another sob.

"You were there for my boy when he couldn't be. When I couldn't be"

My heart twists a little.

"I'm sorry...last time I came here...I was a bitch, I was scared and angry and just..."

"Wendy" I shake my head, my eyes beginning to sting a little "If Jax or Gemma walked up right now this..." I motion between the two of us "Would blow the fuck up"

"I know, I know" she nods, her hands trembling "God, I know. I just...I'm not trying to cause any trouble, or take him away. I'm not. I promise I just...I want to see him, want to get to know him..." she twists anxiously with one of her many bracelets decorating her wrist. "...I've been clean for a year now. I'm gettin' my shit together, for him. For Abel" She straightens up, clearly proud of herself.

"Wendy, it's not me you should be taking to I-"

"Gemma will never let him agree" she cuts in, "Even if Jax wanted to, she'd get her claws in like she always does" she rolls her eyes. Gemma's never done me wrong, but I hate how true that is. I know what Gemma can be like, and clearly, so does Wendy.

It would be so much easier to shut the door in her face, to stand with the family that took me in and claimed me as one of their own. But facing Wendy like this, a mother begging for a chance. It's breaking any kind of restraint I thought I ever had.

"You can't just turn up like this" I sigh "What would've happened if Jax answered the door?"

"I..." her voice cracks. "I don't know...I'm just thankful it was you"

"Look..." I regret the words before I even say them "take my number, if you need something or you just wanna talk...text me. But you can't keep showing up like this"

She stares at me "God, y/n...thank you. You don't know how much this means-"

"It doesn't mean anything" I say quickly "You know I'd never let you see Abel behind Jax's back. I'd never do that to him"

"I know" she sniffles, wiping at her eyes "I'm not asking for that, I just...needed someone to hear me out” I give her a half smile that doesn’t reach my eyes “Look, Jax will be back soon so-” “I got it...” she waves her phone at me showing she saved my number “thank you” her tears have dried now as she walks back to her car, looking behind her once more to give a sad wave goodbye.

I shut the door, leaning against it rubbing a hand down my face as I hear the words I spoke to Jax only a few nights ago...

“I wouldn’t keep something like that from you. I’d never keep secrets”

It’s been a week and a bit since Wendy showed her face again, plus I haven’t heard shit from her. it’s probably better that way cause honestly, she’s the last thing on my mind at the moment. This week’s been a fucking whirlwind to say the least.

I'm curled up on the sofa with a half finished glass of prosecco, listening to the low murmur of Jax's voice down the hall as he tucks Abel in. The old ritual becoming new again. After two years of doing bed time alone, watching him step back into that role feels so fucking special. Sometimes Abel will ask for the both of us, and we'll both go in and do it, but tonight, he wanted his Daddy, and I love that for them.

I lift my hand admiring the new ring that’s been sitting pretty on my finger for the past two days. A black heart shaped diamond that glitters under any lighting. Something I wouldn't have ever picked for myself, but it's so fucking beautiful, so fucking Jax I absolutely love it.

A halo of smaller diamonds frame it and the hidden engraving presses against my skin. 'Ride or die' So fucking thoughtful, and now I know the truth. The hushed conversations, Gemma sneaking it into his pocket the day of his return. He had been planning this from the inside all along.

I knew something was off though from the second I pulled up. Happy was turning away a group of croweaters at the door, and it’s not like him at all to turn away a warm body in a short skirt.

When I stepped inside, it all made fucking sense.

The clubhouse looked completely different. Black roses were draped along the bar, fairy lights strung across the ceiling. There were no outsiders, only family. He couldn’t have planned it any better, of course I fucking said yes.

I hear the soft click of Abel's door and wait patiently for Jax to return. Only he doesn't. I set my glass down, treading lightly towards our bedroom and push the slightly open door wider.

"Jax-"

He's sitting at the edge of the bed, head bowed and when he looks up my stomach sinks. His eyes are glassy and not just with tears but anger.

"Jax?" My voice comes out thin "What's-"

"Who is he?" His tone is so fucking cold when he speaks.

I blink once, then twice. Confused about where this is going "What are you talking abou-"

I reach for him but he snaps away from my touch. His face twists into that snarl I've only ever seen him direct at other people. He shoves my phone into my face, three unread messages

Unknown Number: Can we meet??

Unknown Number: maybe tomorrow

Unknown Number: if Jax ain’t around

"Jax..." my throat closes around his name.

"I asked you a question y/n" he tilts his head like he's trying to see me from all angles "Who. The fuck. Is he?"

"Jax, please just listen"

He steps forward, towering over me shaking with rage he's trying to keep quiet for the sake of Abel.

"Are you cheating on me?" he forces the words out, physically paining him to ask.

"No Jax! I would never I-"

"Don't lie to me" his voice cracks, I can tell he's trying to keep his anger under control. I can see it in his eyes and the way his fists are now clenched at his sides. "Don't you fucking lie to me. Not you."

"I'm not lying" my voice shudders "Just let me explain Jax, please"

He scrubs a hand over his head, pacing up and down our room. "I've been home a month" He hisses, "Four fucking weeks. and you..." he stops, staring at the floor. His eyes flash to the way I twist my engagement ring anxiously "Jesus christ y/n..."

"It's not what it looks like Jax please just-"

He laughs, the hollow sound echoing off the four walls around us "It looks pretty fuckin' clear from here darlin’"

I try to speak, but panic steals the words I want to say. He shakes his head like he can't stand to look at me before turning away.

"It's Wendy" I whisper, barely audible.

He freezes mid step, back still facing me "What?"

"Its...Wendy" I repeat, louder this time.

"How the fuck do you even..." He stops, turning round to face me with a face full of thunder.

"Why the fuck are you texting my ex wife?"

©️ photos & gifs are not mine, all sourced from Pinterest & Giphy | all credit to original creators.

oh my god. This was honestly the MOST requested part two I’ve ever had 🫠 apologies it took so long my lovers, I hope I did it justice hehe. Thank you all for your forever support!! Love each & every one of you 🖤

xoxo secretlysamcro

[daryldixonapolgist]

Summary-Reader is the daughter of Luann and Otto Delaney, When the reader returns to charming for her mothers funeral, old sparks begin to flame.

Warnings:Mention of death, cussing, reader smokes a cigarette with Jax, Jax punches a wall.

A/n!! This chapter doesn’t really follow the timeline, pls bare with me

pt.1 pt.2

When you woke up the next morning, Jax was missing from his side of the bed, again. Your mind wanders to the text you got last night, you sigh and sit up, stretching and then reaching for your phone. As you do you’re met with a bundle of texts from different people, your eyebrows furrow as you read them.

Jackie: You up? 8:05 am

Jackie: Need you at the clubhouse, found out some shit. 8:07 am

Your eyes move down to the next thread of texts, them being from Tig.

Tigger: Hey doll, some pretty heavy shit was found on your moms case. 8:13 am

Tigger: Bobby wants you to hear it from him and not some bullshit from the cops. 8:14 am

You type out a simple “Be there in 30.” and send it to Tig.

You let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your hands over your face before walking into the bathroom and hopping in the shower. You get out and brush your teeth and hair, you dig through your bag and pull on your panties and bra. You find a gray tanktop and an ed hardy zip up, throwing them on before pulling on your jeans and boots. When you finish you walk out into the living room and grab your purse and keys.

When you walk into the clubhouse you’re greeted by Clay, who gives you a once over then yells for Bobby. Bobby walks out from the chapel, followed by the rest of the boys.

“What the hell is going on?” you say, your eyebrows furrowed.

“You should sit down darlin’.” Jax says, leading you to the beaten down couches in the clubhouse. You sit down hesitantly, Bobby sits down across from you and the other boys are scattered around, Jax stands behind you with his hands resting on your shoulders.

“Listen Y/n, i did books for caracara, Luann wasn’t too happy about it but she came around. I..I had found out that she’d been skimming the club money for 6 years..told her i had to take it to the table and sh-” You cut Bobby off.

“God Bobby, just get to the point!” You exclaim impatiently.

“Me and your mom slept together, she came onto me so that I wouldn’t bring it to the table. They found my DNA in her.” Bobby says, his face full of regret.

“No, my mom..she would never sleep with a club member she loved my dad, she-“ Jax cuts you off.

“Babe, it’s true, Hale says it’s his DNA.” He says, squeezing your shoulder slightly.

Your jaw clenches, Your mind racing. “Did you-“

“No.” Bobby says, “I would’ve never hurt Luann.”

You stare at Bobby, you shrug Jax’s hand off my shoulder and stand. “I’m assuming you haven’t told Otto?”

“No, we uh, wanted you to know first. Headed there right after.” Bobby says, standing as well.

Your gaze on Bobby doesn’t fall. “I hope you’re telling me the truth, because I trust you, I grew up around you, all of you. So god help me, you better not be lying to me.” You give him a sharp look and walk outside of the clubhouse, pulling the pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of your back pocket, lighting it and offering Jax one as he steps out with you.

As he lights his cigarette, you decide to bring up the text you got last night.

“So, i uh. Got a text last night. Said you know what happened to my mom.” You say, taking a drag of your cigarette.

You can feel Jax tense up beside you, his fingers shifting around the cigarette slightly.

“From who?” He says, an eyebrow raised.

“Not sure, it was an unknown number..but Jax, if you know something I’d really appreciate it if you told me.” You say, your voice laced with concern and confusion.

“Nah..not sure what they were talking about, know just as much as you do darlin’.” He says.

“Jax it just..everyone seems to know something that i don’t. I’m tired of living in the dark.” You say as you ash your cigarette.

Jax gives you a sympathetic look.

Time skip.

A few hours later, you were walking into the clubhouse to find Opie, he had borrowed your lighter and you needed it back.

You stop as you hear voices coming from the chapel, the door cracked slightly. You hear Jax and Clay’s voices coming from inside.

“She deserves to know what happened to her mom clay, it’s not right to keep something like that from her.” You hear Jax say.

“Yea and what if she blames you when she finds out? hm? Maybe she gets upset that you idiots beat down the man that killed her mom hours before she died!” Clay yells.

Your heart stops for a moment. Jax knows who killed her? Your mind races with thoughts.

“Maybe she does blame me! But she would be getting the closure she needs Clay! If you pulled your goddamn head out of your ass and thought about someone other than yourself for five seconds you’d understand that!” You hear Jax yell before he walks out, bumping into you.

He looks up, not expecting anyone to be there. His eyes widen as he realizes it was you.

“How much of that did you hear..?” He says, his voice slightly worried.

“Enough to know you lied about knowing what happened to my mom.” You glare at jax before walking back out of the clubhouse, forgetting your lighter completely.

You arrive back at Jax’s house, quickly jumping out of your car and walking back in to pack your stuff.

You’re throwing your stuff in your bag when you hear the engine of a motorcycle pull into the driveway.

You internally scream, not wanting to deal with Jax and his bullshit lies.

You throw your bag over your shoulder and walk out, being met with the blonde headed man.

His face drops as he sees the bag on your shoulder. “You’re leaving? You said you had a few more days off.” He says, his voice laced with confusion.

You throw your bag into the backseat of your car before turning to meet his eyes. “I do, but I don’t wanna spend them with someone who lied to me about my mom Jackson.” You say, your eyes swelling with tears.

His face softens, reaching out to grab your hand. You jerk it away, taking a step back to put distance between the two of you.

“Look y/n..I was gonna tell you, but since it was a club thing I needed to take it to the table and they-“ You cut him off.

“Oh take it to the table? Why is everything about the damn table! All that table does is get people hurt and I’m tired of it! My mom didn’t deserve what happened to her and you know it!” You yell, getting in your car.

“Babe come on I’m sorry! I wanted to tell you!” His voice muffled slightly by the engine of your car as you back out of his driveway.

Jax feels his heart break into a million pieces as he watches you drive away, he had pushed you away by not being honest. He walks back into his house, slamming the door behind him, letting out a frustrated scream and throwing a punch at the wall like it had verbally assaulted him, leaving a hole in it.

You keep driving, you finally pass the “Thank you for visiting charming!” sign. You scoff, “Nothing about this fucking place is charming.” you mumble to yourself as you drive away from the town you once called home.

All divider creds go to the owners, i do not own any of the characters mentioned in this fic. All character credit goes to Kurt Sutter.

[daryldixonapolgist]

I'm right where you left me. Pt2- Jax Teller

Summary-Reader is the daughter of Luann and Otto Delaney, When the reader returns to charming for her mothers funeral, old sparks begin to flame.

Warnings: Mention of death and alcohol. 

When you woke up in the morning, the cover was tucked around you and the curtain was slightly cracked open, causing the sunlight to beam down on your skin. As you remember where you are, you look at the other side of the bed, expecting to see Jax. Instead of being met with the blonde headed man, you’re met with a note. “Club needed me, I'll be there for the funeral, promise- Jax.”, You sigh, sitting up and stretching your arms before walking into his bathroom to shower and brush your teeth. When you walk into the bathroom you close the door behind you and strip your clothes off, as you walk past the mirror to get into the shower you stop as you see the tattoo on your rib that rests just below your breast. “Jackson” . A reminder of the time you and Jax were stupid teenagers and got each other's names tattooed. After you do your morning routine you pull on a pair of black bootcut jeans, a black tank top and a flannel that you decide to leave unbuttoned. You pull your shoes on when you hear a knock on the door, you furrow your eyebrows and walk to the front door, you look through the peep hole to find gemma. 

You sigh before opening the door, finding her standing there with a casserole. “Hey baby, I knew I would find you here, I'm sorry about your mom.”,  “Yea, a lot of sorrys going around lately. How’d you know I was here?”, you say as you step aside to let her in, you close and lock the door behind her. “Know how close you and my boy are, knew he wouldn’t let you stay in some cheap ass motel.”, She says as she walks into the kitchen, you follow her, watching as she sets the casserole on the counter. 

“How you holding up? Been worried about you.”, Gemma says. “As well as I can considering my mother was brutally murdered and not a single person seems to know what happened.”, You say with a straight face, being tired of all the sympathy and no answers. Gemma raises an eyebrow, “They’re working on finding out what happened to Luann. Until then you need to worry about yourself and how you’re dealing with the grief.", You roll your eyes, grabbing your purse and keys. “I’m dealing with my grief just fine, Gemma, i’m heading to the clubhouse, you can see yourself out.”

You arrive at Teller-Morrow, walking in and being met by Opie who’s working on a bike. “Hey ope.”, You say to the man you’ve grown close with due to being friends with Jax, “Hey y/n/n, Sorry I couldn't see you yesterday when you came in, shit with Lyla and the kids.” He says, wiping his hands on a dirty rag before pulling you into a side hug. “Oh Lyla? Like the one who worked with my mom? Since when was that a thing?”, You say with a teasing smile as you look up at him. “Little after Donna died.”, He replies back with a faint smile. “She would’ve wanted you happy, and you are right? All that matters.”, You say as you pull away before speaking again. “You seen Jax? Said he’d give me a ride to moms funeral, just wanna make sure he’s not too busy and that he can still make it.”

“Should be inside the clubhouse, and he’ll be there, we all will.”, He says. I shoot him a smile before walking over to the clubhouse, as I open the door I'm met with the scent I had become so familiar with over the years. You look around, being met with so many faces that you’ve grown used to over the years, your eyes finally land on Jax who’s busy talking to another club member. You decide to sit at the bar next to Chibs, who’s chatting up some croweater. When he sees you sit down next to him his attention immediately shifts from the woman to you, “Hey lass, wan’ a drink? Looks like ye’ need it.”, You shake your head. “Trying not to drink my feelings away, but thanks anyways.”, You say with a forced smile, he goes to respond but is cut off when Jax walks over.

He stands beside your bar stool and swings his arm over your shoulder, “You alright?” His voice was laced with concern. “Yea Jackie, I’ll be okay. Was just making sure you all would still be there later today?” You say as you look up at him. “Course’ we will darlin’, we wouldn't miss it for the world, gotta be there for our girl.” You nod with a faint smile on your face.

Time skip to the funeral!

You’re standing in front of your mothers casket, a wrinkled piece of paper in your shaky hands, the feel of concern and empathy filled eyes sends a chill down your spine. You crumble the paper up and shove it in your pocket before looking up at everyone who showed up for your mother, your eyes swelling with tears.

“I uh, planned on coming up here and reading what i wrote on this piece of paper but I can't do that. My mom was an absolutely wonderful woman, cared for everyone around her, made sure her girls felt safe on set, visited me on off days, took care of me when my dad was off with the club. She was amazing, could be a little snappy at times but that's just who she was.” You laugh slightly through a sniffle, causing everyone to laugh softly. “..and what happened to her is horrible, you all know that. She will get the justice she deserves, I'll make sure of that. Thank you all for coming today, it means a lot to me and it would’ve meant a lot to her. Thank you.” You say before sitting back down in your seat, Jax takes your hand in his, bringing it to his mouth with a soft kiss before squeezing it and turning his attention back to the priest. 

Later that night after the funeral, Jax had dropped you off at his house before leaving because the club just so happened to need him, Great timing, right? You close and lock the door behind you before walking into the kitchen, you hadn't eaten at all due to being anxious all day. As you open his fridge your phone pings, you sigh and close the fridge before pulling out your phone. 

“Unkown: How much can you really trust your boy toy when he says he doesn't know what happened to mommy? Your closest friends hold the most secrets🤡.”

Your eyebrows furrow, your mind begins to flood with thoughts. What were they talking about? How did they get my number? What does Jax know? You decide to brush it off for now, deciding you’ll bring it up to Jax in the morning. You eat and decide to take another shower before bed, you sit under the stream of hot water with your knees curled into your chest, your head resting on the shower wall. Tears stream down your face at a racing pace. When you finally decide to get out, you dry off, brush your teeth and hair before deciding to steal one of Jax’s samcro shirts, i pull on a pair of sleep shorts and curl into the blankets on Jax’s bed, the weight of the day heavy on your shoulders as you drift away to sleep.

All divider creds go to the owners, i do not own any of the characters mentioned in this fic. All character credit goes to Kurt Stutter. 

[daryldixonapolgist]

I'm right where you left me- Jax Teller

Summary-Reader is the daughter of Luann and Otto Delaney, When the reader returns to charming for her mothers funeral, old sparks begin to flame.

Warnings: Mention of death, alcohol, reader smokes a cigarette.

A/N: This is my first time writing for soa, if it's bad im soso sorry. Enjoy and please lmk your thoughts on it!

Backstory

Y/n wasn’t normal by any means, with a mother who produces porn and a father who is in Sons of anarchy and currently in jail, Y/n carried some baggage with her. She had left for college not too long before her dad got arrested, visiting him when she could. She had eventually graduated college and stayed in the small town of her college, finding a nice studio apartment and an office job until she figured everything out. 

Current time.

After receiving the news of her mothers passing, y/n was torn apart. After taking a few days off of work, you finally arrived in charming. Before you even bothered to book a hotel or swing by the clubhouse, you stopped by the prison to see your father. 

You sit down at the table across from him, your gaze falls on the guard standing at the door before returning it to your father. “Dad i’m so sorry i-”, he cuts you off, his voice quiet, sounding drained. “Enough Y/n, it’s not your fault.”, he says, his voice becoming shaky mid sentence. “I uh, put money in your books,Get you some somewhat decent food.”, you say, your voice and face full of sympathy and hurt. “Thank you baby, you didn't have to.”

After a few more words were exchanged, the guard says his time is up, and you hug him tightly before he goes. When you get back in the car you head to the clubhouse, your bag in the back full of clothes, toiletries and grief. As you pull into the Teller-Morrow parking lot, your body suddenly fills with anxiety and remembrance, the last time you were here you watched your dad get hauled away by a bunch of cops.

As you go to open your door, somebody knocks on it. You jump slightly, looking up to find Tig. Your body relaxes as you see who it is, you open it and you’re immediately embraced in a tight hug by the older man. 

“I’m so sorry doll.” He says into the top of your head, “Yeah,me too.”, He grabs the bag out of the backseat for you and leads you into the clubhouse. As you step into the old clubhouse you’re met with the smell of cigarettes, sweat, and whiskey. You thank tig for helping with your bag and begin to look around, your eyes landing on a specific blonde headed man. Before you can realize what's happening, your feet carry you over to the man who was your best friend, the only one other than your mother, Chibs, and Gemma who kept in contact when you went away for college. 

You tap his shoulder, careful not to startle him. When he turns you’re met with the same piercing blue eyes you used to love looking into. “Shit..Y/n”, He hugs you tightly, his hands pressed tightly into your back, his chin on top of your head.

“Hey Jackie.” You respond, it slightly being muffled by the leather of his kutte. He pulls away just enough to see your face, his eyes searching yours for signs of something but he's not sure what. “How are you holding up darlin’?”, he asks, his voice full of concern and empathy. “Um, shitty, but I'll manage.”, you say through a painfully obvious fake laugh. Jax grabs your chin and moves your head up so you’re looking at him. “C’mon y/n/n, you can’t lie to me, not now. No one’s gonna be mad or upset if you aren't okay babe.”

Your eyes fill with tears, Jax feels his heart break as he pulls you back into him. You manage to calm your tears as he leads you to the bar and tells a prospect to grab you a beer. As you and Jax catch up on each other's lives, you hear a familiar Scottish accent. You turn to see Chibs, your face drops the sadness and your lips turn into a small smile as you hop off the bar stool to hug the man who has grown to be like family to you. “Hey lass, good tae see ye”, Chibs says as he hugs you tightly.

After reuniting with everyone but Clay, who just shot you looks as if it's no secret he was never your biggest fan. You sit back in your stool, turning back to the blonde headed man beside you. “Where are you staying y/n?”Jax asks. “Uh, was just gonna get a motel, not sure which one yet.” You say as you steal a cigarette from the pack on the bar top, pulling out your lighter to light it. “Come stay at mine, better than some sketchy hotel darlin’”, You raise an eyebrow as you take a drag from the cigarette, “What about Tara? Thought that was still a thing.”. “Nah, she split after a lockdown we had, guess it spooked her.” He says, unamused. “Okay, yea. I guess I could stay at yours.”

After getting settled in Jax's house for the time being, you and Jax lay in his bed like you used to before you went away for college, you lay on your back and he lays on his side, propped up on his elbow, his free hand traces random shapes on your arm as you talk about your mom.

“I just..I feel like I lost a piece of me Jax. I can’t pick up my phone and call her when things get hard, I can't hug her..i..i just feel lost, like without her i’m not the same person. Maybe if i had moved back after graduating she-”

Jax cuts you off, his voice stern. “Y/n, nobody could’ve known what was gonna happen to her. It’s not your fault, Luann would’ve wanted you getting your life together, you know that babe.”, He says, laying down and tugging you with him so your head rests in between his chin and collarbone. “Yea, I guess. Just can’t help but feel guilty.”, you say quietly. 

He sighs softly, one hand holding your wrist as your hand rests on his chest, the other holding the back of your head. “I know, get some sleep, you need it y/n/n.”, You sigh, being too tired to protest as you close your eyes. When Jax hears your breathing even out he looks down, finding you asleep. He kisses the top of your head before closing his eyes. “Goodnight babe.”

All divider creds go to the owners, i do not own any of the characters mentioned in this fic. All character credit goes to Kurt Stutter. 

A/N!! Do we want part 2? Tell me your honest opinions! Also, sorry for any mistakes i wrote this pretty late lol

[rocknrollangelsblog]

[lust4angel-deactivated20260310]

.༊·˚

[jacksonsturniolo-deactivated202]

here again because so much negativity still being spread, even in the month of mental health awareness.

I want everyone to know that —

You are loved

You are beautiful

You are worthy

You are capable of achieving everything you want

You have an impact on people

You’re the reason someone smiles

You are wanted.

and if you feel like you’re not, reach out to me, or someone you trust.

988 hotline.