So sorry uploads haven't been great, life's been getting in the way. Im due to start back at work soon and my baby has been waking quite a bi5lt throughout the night.
I've closed my requests for now but I'll reopen them when I've caught up with the ones I have.
I'll be uploading hopefully tomorrow, so keep your eyes peeled 👀
Can you please write a Jace Wayland fic where he’s trying to initiate intimacy with his girlfriend and she’s shy and awkward with it but he just finds it super sweet and is really patient with her during their session? Ty!
Hey! Thank you for your request!
It has been written and posted, you will find it here:
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 0 · A Gentle Kind of Courage · Requested by Anonymous
Pairing: Jace Wayland x Female Reader
Genre: Fluff
Characters: Jace, Y
Description: After a long day at the Institute, Jace wants to move forward in his relationship with Y/N. She gets flustered by nerves, but his patience and steady care show her that love doesn’t need to be rushed.
The Institute was quieter than usual. Most Shadowhunters had already gone to bed, and the halls glowed softly from the wall sconces. The rare peace felt like a gentle silence surrounding you. It had only been a few days since the battle in Alicante, and everyone was still recovering. People appreciated the calm, even if it felt strange after all the chaos.
You had been sitting with Jace on his bed for nearly half an hour, chatting about whatever came up. At one point, you both laughed about Simon's latest training mistake. After that, the conversation faded.
Jace looked at you with that familiar softness he reserved for you alone. "You've gone quiet," he murmured.
"I'm thinking."
"Dangerous."
You nudged his shoulder with a smile. "Very funny."
"It usually is." His fingers brushed against yours. You looked down at your hands, feeling your heartbeat pick up for reasons you tried to ignore. He noticed immediately. "You okay?"
You nodded a little too quickly. "Mhm."
Jace smiled knowingly. "That wasn't convincing."
Heat rushed to your face. "I know."
"You don't have to be nervous around me."
"I know that too."
"Then why are you?"
You let out an embarrassed laugh. "I don't know."
He tilted his head. "I think you do."
You kept your eyes on your lap. "I just..." You hesitated. Memories flashed through your mind: awkward moments with other boys you never trusted, and how you once kept Jace at a distance because you were afraid of being hurt again. "...I've never really...done any of this before." There. You had finally said it.
Your face felt so hot it seemed like it could light up the room. To your surprise, Jace didn’t laugh or tease you. Instead, his expression softened even more. "Oh." He reached over and gently lifted your chin so you would look at him. "Thank you for telling me."
"I'm sorry."
His eyebrows pulled together. "For what?"
"For making this awkward."
He chuckled quietly. "I don't think you're awkward."
"I definitely am."
"You absolutely are."
Your eyes widened. "Jace!"
"But," he continued with a grin, "it's one of my favourite things about you."
You blinked. "...Really?"
"You blush every time I compliment you." You immediately felt your cheeks warm again. "There." He laughed softly. "You just proved my point."
You covered your face with both hands. "Oh my goodness... I stand corrected. This is so embarrassing."
"No." His hands gently wrapped around your wrists, lowering them just enough for you to see his smile. "It's sweet."
"I don't feel sweet."
"You are." You looked at his face, checking for any hint of teasing. There was nothing—just affection, patience, and warmth. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for," he said quietly. His voice was gentle. "I mean that."
You studied him. "You wouldn't be disappointed?"
"Not even a little."
"What if I'm nervous the whole time?"
"Then we'll stop."
"What if I panic?"
"We stop."
"What if I accidentally make things weird?"
He smiled. "I promise you..." His thumb brushed gently across your knuckles. "...nothing you could do would make me think less of you."
The knot in your chest loosened. "You really mean that?"
"I always mean it."
Silence settled between you again, but this time it felt safe, not awkward. You moved closer and rested your head on his shoulder. He smiled and stayed quiet. He didn’t push or rush, letting you set the pace.
After a few moments, you looked up at him. "I think..." You swallowed. "...I'd like to try."
His expression stayed gentle. "Only because you want to."
You nodded. "I do."
"Then we go as slowly as you need."
"So...very slowly."
He laughed. "I was expecting that."
"You were?"
"I know you."
You rolled your eyes. "I hate that you're always right."
"No, you don't."
"...No." A smile tugged at your lips. "I really don't." He leaned forward just enough to brush a tender kiss against your forehead. "You're safe with me." Three simple words. Yet somehow, they settled every anxious thought racing through your mind.
You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "I trust you."
His smile was small, genuine, and impossibly warm. "That's all I needed to hear."
The rest of the evening wasn’t about rushing. It was about whispered reassurances, quiet laughter when your nerves took over, and learning that love wasn’t measured by bold moments but by patience, trust, and knowing the person beside you would never ask for more than you were ready to give.
Somehow, that made you fall in love with Jace all over again. As you held his hand in the soft light, you wondered what other firsts you might share and how this gentle promise would shape your moments together, slowly, patiently, and always side by side.
Description: Centuries after losing the person she once loved, Rebekah Mikaelson finds Y/N again. She is unchanged, mysterious, and still remembers the promise they made before immortality changed their lives.
When Rebekah sees you again, she wonders if she's dreaming. New Orleans is full of life tonight. Jazz spills from open doors, laughter echoes down the streets, and the French Quarter is buzzing. But all she hears is your voice from a thousand years ago.
"You worry too much, Bekah." Her breath catches.
You stand across the street, lit by the soft glow of a lantern. You haven't changed, and neither has she. For a moment, you both stay still. Then she quietly says your name.
You smile. "Hello, Rebekah."
A thousand years ago, before kingdoms fell and monsters appeared, before the Mikaelsons became legends, you lived in the village next to theirs. You were family by choice, not by blood.
Finn admired your patience. Kol loved getting you into trouble. Elijah trusted your judgment. Niklaus acted like he didn't care, but everyone knew he did. Henrik was your closest friend.
You and Henrik were always together. You explored the forests, talked about seeing the world beyond your village, and dreamed of bigger lives. You promised to always find each other. Then Henrik died. The werewolves took him before sunrise. The family was broken by grief. Everything changed. Esther cast her spell. Mikael's children became vampires, and when the Mikaelsons left, they believed you stayed behind.
"You should be dead." Rebekah's voice trembles as she steps closer.
You chuckle softly. "I've heard that a lot."
"You haven't aged."
"No."
"How?"
You look up at the stars. For a moment, something mysterious flickers in your eyes, a secret you've kept. "It's a long story."
She narrows her eyes. "I have time."
You laugh. "I know you do."
For the first time in centuries, you feel like yourself.
The Mikaelson compound falls silent when you arrive.
Elijah opens the door; his composed expression cracks instantly. "...Impossible."
"Knew you'd say that."
Kol appears beside him, taking one look at you before dramatically throwing his hands into the air. "I knew it! I knew you weren't dead!"
"You visited my grave."
"It was symbolic."
"There wasn't even a body."
"I had to work with what I had." You laugh, unable to help yourself. Kol grins in triumph. "There it is! I knew I'd get the first laugh."
Rebekah rolls her eyes. "Must you make everything about yourself?"
"Yes."
Klaus doesn't say anything when he sees you. He just stares for a long, tense moment. Finally, he says, "You should not exist."
"You look well too."
He scoffs. "You haven't changed."
"Neither have you."
"Oh, I have." The bitterness beneath his words is impossible to miss.
You remember when he was a young man who only wanted his father's approval. He carved small wooden animals because he liked making beautiful things. That boy is gone. The man in front of you carries a thousand years of pain. Your heart aches for him.
Later that evening, Rebekah finds you standing on the balcony. "You still look at the stars."
"I always liked them."
"They remind me of home."
"They remind me of promises."
Silence settles comfortably between you. Then she asks the question she's been avoiding. "Were you in love with Henrik?"
You smile sadly. "I loved him.
“But not like that?"
You shake your head. "He was my best friend."
Relief flashes across her face before she can hide it. You notice. She notices you noticing. "...Don't."
"You sighed."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
"It was not a sigh."
"It was."
She groans dramatically. "I've waited a thousand years to see you, and you're insufferable already."
You grin. "So I've been told."
Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You settled back into the Mikaelsons' lives more easily than you thought you would. Even though you laugh now, you remember the long, lonely centuries in between. You travelled to distant kingdoms, learned new languages, and watched empires rise and fall. You used other names, loved and lost, and hid from dangers and from people you couldn't leave behind. Still, something always brought you back to the Mikaelsons, even if only in your thoughts. Now you spar with Kol, debate with Elijah, and annoy Klaus just enough that he secretly enjoys it. Sometimes, you even get Freya to take breaks from her magic. But you always spend the most time with Rebekah.
She takes you shopping. You convince her to try cafés she never noticed before. She shows you dances that have come and gone over the centuries. You tease her often. She pretends to hate it, but she never asks you to stop.
One rainy afternoon, she spots an old wooden carving on your bedside table. It's a tiny horse.
She freezes. "...Nik carved this. He gave it to Henrik." Her fingers gently trace the worn edges. "I thought it had been lost."
"I kept it."
"For a thousand years?"
"I made a promise." She looks at you, and your face softens. "I couldn't save Henrik."
"No one could."
"I know."
"You still blame yourself."
"A little."
She carefully sets the carving back down and steps closer. "You've carried our memories for us."
You shrug. "Someone had to."
"No." H"No." Her voice cracks. "You didn't." Before you can say anything, she hugs you. At first, she's hesitant, as if she's afraid you'll disappear. Slowly, you hug her back. "I missed you," she whispers.
"I missed you too."
Weeks later, the two of you wander through Jackson Square at sunset. The city shines with golden light. Rebekah watches children chasing pigeons. "They get to grow up."
"They do."
"They get old."
"They do."
"They get ordinary lives."
"They do."
She sighs. "I've wanted that for so long."
You reach for her hand. She doesn't pull away. "You deserve it."
She looks at you. "And if I never get it?"
You smile gently. "Then you'll never have to face forever alone."
Her eyes shimmer. "You'd stay?"
"I already have for a thousand years. I made a promise."
She laughs quietly through tears. "You always keep your promises."
"I try."
She squeezes your hand. Then, smiling brighter than the New Orleans sunset, she rests her head on your shoulder. For the first time in centuries, forever doesn't feel like a curse. This time, she won't face eternity alone.
But as the city lights flicker and shadows grow across the square, a distant howl rings out, sharper and stranger than expected. For a moment, you both fall silent, sensing something old and unsettled still waiting. Even together, you know eternity can change in a moment. Deep down, you both wonder what else might come back from the past, or what choices the future will bring.
You should do a Seth Rollins smut where his girl the reader is a virgin and the girls sister makes fun of her for it so they go out to eat and after he takes her virginity back at their place and the reader sends her sister a picture afterwards
Hey! Thank you for your request!
It has been written and posted, you will find it here:
Description: After her sister keeps teasing her about being a virgin, Seth takes Y/N out on a romantic date that leads to an intimate night where she loses her virginity to him.
"Still a little saint, aren't you?" Your sister’s voice is dripping with sarcasm as she leans against the doorframe of your bedroom. She’s been on your case for months, mocking your hesitation and your status as the 'family virgin' with a relentless, playful cruelty. "I swear, you're treating that pussy like a museum exhibit. Someone needs to break you in before you turn into a nun."
You roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you. You aren't exactly ashamed, but the teasing makes you crave something - or someone - more than ever. And that 'someone' happens to be Seth Rollins.
Seth is everything your sister’s jokes are: bold, loud, confident, and devastatingly attractive. He’s been courting you with a patience that surprises you, treating you with a mix of gentlemanly respect and a simmering, predatory hunger that makes your knees weak every time he looks at you.
When he pulls up to your house in his sleek car, looking like a million bucks in a tailored outfit that hugs his athletic frame, your sister gives you one last wink and a whispered, "Try not to break him," before you slide into the passenger seat.
The dinner is a blur of candlelight and expensive wine. Seth is the perfect date; his conversation is engaging, and his laughter is infectious. But beneath the table, his hand finds your thigh, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh, inching higher with every course. You gasp softly, your breath hitching as he brushes against the edge of your panties. He doesn't stop, his thumb circling the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, sending jolts of electricity straight to your clit.
"You're so tense," he whispers, leaning in close, the scent of his cologne filling your senses. "I can tell you're thinking about it. About what happens after we leave here."
By the time you get back to his place, the tension is a physical weight between you. The moment the door clicks shut, Seth has you pinned against the wood. His mouth crashes onto yours, a hungry, demanding kiss that tastes of wine and desperation. His hands roam your body, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. You can feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing through his trousers, a thick, pulsing promise of what's to come.
"I know you've never done this," he murmurs against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "I'm going to be careful, but I'm going to make sure you never forget who took it from you."
He strips you quickly, his eyes devouring every inch of your skin. When you're completely naked, trembling under his gaze, he leads you to the bedroom. He lays you back on the sheets, his hands sliding up your legs to spread them wide. He doesn't rush. He spends an eternity tasting you, his tongue flicking expertly over your clit, sucking the small nub into his mouth until you're arching your back, sobbing his name.
"Please, Seth... please," you whimper, your fingers clutching the sheets.
He rises above you, his own clothes discarded. His cock is massive, thick and veiny, glistening with pre-cum. He positions the head of his dick against your tight, wet opening. You tense instinctively, the fear of the unknown flickering in your mind, but Seth catches your gaze, his eyes dark with lust and affection.
"Just breathe for me, baby. Just relax," he groans.
He pushes in slowly. You let out a sharp cry as your hymen tears, a flash of pain that is immediately eclipsed by the feeling of being completely filled. He stops, letting you adjust, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding back. Once you relax, he begins to move.
The first few thrusts are shallow, cautious, but as you begin to moan, he loses his restraint. He drives into you with powerful, rhythmic lunges, his cock slamming deep into your womb. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room—slap, slap, slap—as he fucks you with a primal intensity.
"You're so tight," he growls, his voice a low rasp. "God, you feel incredible. You were made for this cock."
He flips you over, pulling your ass up in the air. From behind, he drives back in, his cock hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You're screaming now, the pleasure overwhelming, your pussy gripping him tightly as you spiral toward a climax. Seth is relentless, his hands gripping your waist, leaving faint bruises as he hammers into you.
As you peak, your internal muscles pulsing around him, Seth lets out a guttural roar. He thrusts one last time, burying himself as deep as possible, and floods your insides with hot, thick ropes of cum. You collapse onto the bed, both of you panting, drenched in sweat and spent.
After a while, as you lie entwined in the sheets, a mischievous thought crosses your mind. You reach for your phone on the nightstand. You shift slightly, angling the camera to capture a shot of your flushed face, your messy hair, and the visible smear of Seth's cum leaking from your thighs onto the white sheets.
You hit 'send' to your sister.
The reply comes back almost instantly: "Finally! About damn time. Now tell me everything."
Hi Sammy, I was wondering if you could do a Randy Orton x Chubby Female Reader with an oral fixation kink which makes the blow jobs she gives Randy feels so good that he becomes obsessed.
Hey! Thank you for your request!
It has been written and posted, you will find it here:
Description: Randy finds himself overwhelmed by a desire he can't resist, knowing that only Y/N’s gentle curves and skilled touch can soothe his restless energy.
The locker room is silent, the heavy scent of athletic tape and sweat hanging in the air, but all Randy can focus on is you. He’s leaning back against a training table, his massive frame taking up most of the space, eyes narrowed as he watches you walk toward him. He doesn’t care that he has a match in an hour. He doesn’t care about the championship. Right now, the only thing that matters is the hunger gnawing at his gut - a hunger that only you can satisfy.
Randy has always been a man of precision and control, but when it comes to you, that control snaps. He reaches out, his large hand gripping your waist, pulling your soft, chubby frame flush against his hard thighs. He groans, a low rumble in his chest, as he feels the plushness of your hips pressing into him. He loves the way you feel - the softness of your stomach, the curve of your thighs—it’s the perfect contrast to his own rigid, muscular build.
"You know why I called you in here," he rasps, his voice thick with a desperation he only shows to you.
He doesn't wait for an answer. He guides you down to your knees, his fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head back. His eyes are dark, blown out with a fixation that borders on obsession. Randy has an oral fixation that consumes him; he doesn't just want the release, he wants the sensation of your mouth, the warmth of your throat, and the way you look up at him while you serve him.
As you reach for the drawstring of his gear, his breath hitches. You slide his cock out, and it springs free, thick and pulsing, already leaking a bead of pre-cum. Randy lets out a sharp exhale, his hips twitching forward instinctively.
"Do it," he commands, his voice a strained whisper. "Take it all."
You wrap your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the rim before sliding deep. Randy’s head hits the wall behind him with a thud, his eyes snapping shut. The sensation is electric. Because of your softness, you move with a fluidity that drives him insane, your cheeks hollowing as you suck him in with a greedy, rhythmic intensity.
He begins to moan, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure that he can't suppress. He loves the way your lips feel—tight yet yielding—and the way your tongue licks at the underside of his shaft. He finds himself obsessed with the sound of it, the wet, slapping noise of your mouth working over him, the soft whimpers you make when he pushes himself deeper into your throat.
"Fuck, you're so good at this," he grunts, his fingers tightening in your hair, guiding your pace. "God, I can't stop thinking about this. All day... every single match... I'm just thinking about your mouth on me."
He starts to thrust his hips, his movements becoming more urgent, more primal. He isn't just seeking an orgasm; he's chasing the feeling of being completely consumed by you. He watches you through hooded eyes, mesmerised by the sight of his thick cock disappearing into your mouth, the way your chubby cheeks flush with effort. The obsession has taken root; he doesn't just want you—he needs this specific sensation to function.
The tension builds until he's shaking, his muscles locking up. He lets out a guttural growl, his grip on your hair tightening as he hits his limit.
"I'm gonna cum... fuck, take it all! Swallow every drop!"
He thrusts deep one last time, burying himself to the hilt in your throat as he erupts. Thick, hot ropes of cum blast into the back of your throat, filling your mouth. Randy shudders violently, his entire body vibrating with the force of the release. He doesn't pull away immediately; he stays there, pulsing inside you, savouring the warmth and the suction of your throat as you swallow his load.
When he finally pulls back, a thin string of saliva and cum connects his cock to your lips. Randy looks down at you, his expression one of raw, hungry adoration. He reaches down, cupping your face with a hand that is still trembling.
"You're mine," he whispers, his voice possessive and dark. "I don't care what it takes. I'm going to have you doing this every single day. I'm addicted to you."
He leans down, kissing you deeply, the taste of himself still lingering on your tongue, already counting down the seconds until he can feel your mouth on him again.
She is deeply in live with him but he’s having a girlfriend and he seems happy and she didn’t want to make a shadow out of this. So she keep quiet. She show up everytime he need her. She’s the best best friend he could ask for. At the same time she’s faking her heart isn’t breaking each time she see them together. But as the weeks past everyone at the station see Reader isn’t a sunshine anymore. She was always happy, smiling and always at her best. But now she’s not smiling like she use to, she always refuse going out with the team, always in a corner alone. She feel empty. Buck and Hen go see her at her appartment. They see her at her worst. She finally snap that is hard loving someone so much but he never love her back. When they realise she’s talking about Eddie they tried to talk to her but she was unconsolable. The next day, she take a day off. Eddie and Hen are in the ambulance. He ask her if she see Reader became sad and depress. Hen try not to say anything. She ask Eddie if he love her. He say i have a girlfriend. Hen said that’s not my question. Eddie finally said yes i always have but she deserve someone who don’t have bagage like me. Hen tell him everything. After his shift he go at her appartment. Buck open the door. He look at Eddie and said that’s about time and leave them. Eddie tell her everything he love her but he is not enough for her. She say to him that he didnt see himself like she see him. To her , he is perfect, loving father, devoted friend, a person with a big heart. They kiss. They tell each other they love each other and happy ending.
Hey! Thank you for your request!
It has been written and posted, you will find it here:
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 0 · Until You Finally Looked at Me · Requested by Anonymous
Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Female Reader
Genre: Fluff, Angst
Characte
Description: Y/N has loved Eddie for as long as she can remember. But since he’s happy with someone else, she tells herself that staying quiet is the only way to keep him close. Still, the people around her start to see that she’s falling apart.
The first time you realized you loved Eddie Diaz, you knew you were in trouble. It wasn’t just because he was handsome, though he definitely was. It wasn’t just because he was a firefighter, but watching him run into danger without hesitation didn’t help.
It was the little things. He always remembered how you liked your coffee. He laughed with his whole heart whenever Christopher told a joke. He would quietly check on everyone after a tough call before thinking about himself. You never stood a chance.
When Eddie started dating Marisol, you smiled. Marisol was sweet, warm, and easy to like. She made Eddie laugh and helped him find happiness again after everything he’d been through. You congratulated him and hugged him. Then you went home and cried until your chest hurt because Eddie looked happy. You loved him too much to take that away. So you buried your feelings and stayed what you’d always been—his best friend.
"You okay?" You looked up from cleaning the ambulance. Eddie stood beside you, concern written all over his face. "You've been quiet today."
You forced the brightest smile you could manage. "I'm fine."
"You sure?"
You nudged his shoulder. "When have I ever lied to you?"
He laughed. "Fair point."
You hated yourself for it, because that had been a lie.
You were there every time he needed someone. When Christopher got sick. When Eddie questioned whether he was doing enough as a father. After difficult rescues. On anniversaries that brought back painful memories.
If Eddie called, you always answered, no matter what it cost you.
"You coming to karaoke tonight?" Buck asked after the shift.
You shook your head. "I'm tired."
Hen frowned. "You've missed the last four outings."
"I know."
"Movie night tomorrow?"
"No."
"Dinner Friday?"
"No."
Buck exchanged a glance with Hen. "You sure you're okay?"
You smiled. "I'm just exhausted." Another lie.
People at the station started to notice, but it didn’t happen all at once. Over weeks, your bright laughter faded. Then you stopped teasing. The jokes, dancing in the kitchen while dinner cooked, random coffee runs, and hugs all disappeared. Eventually, you just became quiet. You still did your job and smiled, but your smile never reached your eyes anymore.
Bobby noticed. "You seem tired."
"I'm okay."
Athena noticed. "You've lost weight."
"I've just been busy."
Buck noticed. "You haven't called me 'disaster magnet' in two weeks."
"I'll make it up to you."
Hen noticed everything, especially the way your smile vanished every time Eddie kissed his girlfriend goodbye before his shift.
One afternoon, Buck knocked on your apartment door. No answer. He knocked again. Still nothing.
Hen sighed. "I've got a key." You'd given it to both of them years ago for emergencies.
Buck unlocked the door. The apartment was dark, with the curtains closed. Dishes were stacked in the sink, and takeout containers were scattered across the coffee table. You sat curled up on the floor in one of Eddie's old LAFD hoodies he had forgotten years ago, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and your eyes swollen.
Lately, it felt like the whole world was pressing down on you, and every room echoed with memories of laughter you once shared. The hoodie still smelled a little like him, and even though you wished it didn’t, you needed it more than ever. You remembered nights on this same floor, Eddie beside you, eating takeout and sharing stories. Now, every reminder of him—every shirt, every cup, every echo in the empty apartment—left you feeling both comforted and broken. You wondered if the ache would ever fade, or if this hollow longing was just part of loving someone you couldn’t have.
Buck's heart broke. "Oh..."
Hen slowly crouched beside you. "Honey." You looked up, then immediately burst into tears. Hen wrapped her arms around you without hesitation. "It's okay."
"No..." you sobbed. "It's not."
Buck quietly sat beside you. "What happened?"
You shook your head over and over. "I can't..."
"You can tell us."
"I can't do this anymore."
Hen gently rubbed your back. "What can't you do?"
You broke down. "I can't keep pretending." Your voice cracked. "It hurts. So much." Each word came out between sobs. "I love him." Buck froze, but Hen already knew. "I love him so much." You buried your face in your hands. "And he doesn't love me. I have to watch him be happy with someone else. I have to smile. I have to tell him I'm happy for him. I have to pretend that seeing them together doesn't destroy me." You couldn't breathe. "I love Eddie."
Silence filled the apartment. Buck slowly closed his eyes. Hen looked away for a second. "Oh, sweetheart..."
"I've loved him for years." Your shoulders shook violently. "I keep waiting for it to stop. It doesn't. I wish I could stop loving him. I've tried. I've dated. I've stayed away. I've buried it. It never goes away."
Buck reached over, squeezing your hand. "You should've told us."
"What would've been the point?" You laughed bitterly. "He has a girlfriend. He doesn't love me. I don't get to ruin his happiness because mine fell apart." Hen hugged you tighter as another wave of tears hit. You cried until there was nothing left.
The next morning, Bobby insisted you take the day off. "No arguments."
You didn't have the energy to fight him.
Hen climbed into the ambulance with Eddie. The shift had barely started before he spoke. "Can I ask you something?"
Hen glanced over. "Sure."
"Have you noticed something's wrong with Y/N?"
She kept her eyes ahead. "What makes you ask?"
"I don't know." He frowned. "She's different. She's sad. She barely smiles anymore. I've asked if she's okay, and she always says yes."
Hen stayed silent. "Eddie."
"Hm?"
"Do you love her?"
He blinked. "What?"
"You heard me."
He looked uncomfortable. "I have a girlfriend."
Hen sighed. "That's not what I asked."
He stared out the windshield. Several long seconds passed. Finally, he says, "...Yes." Hen didn't look surprised. "I always have." His voice was barely audible. "But..."
"But?"
"I'm not enough." Hen looked at him. "I've got too much baggage. I'm a single dad. I've made mistakes. I have trauma. She deserves someone easier, someone without all these complications."
Hen almost laughed. "You really believe that?"
"I know it."
She shook her head. "No. You've just convinced yourself of it." He stayed quiet. Hen took a slow breath. "She loves you."
His head snapped toward her. "What?"
Hen told him everything. About your apartment. Your tears. Your confession. The sleepless nights. The hoodie. The way you'd been falling apart for weeks. By the time she finished, Eddie looked like someone had punched him.
The second his shift ended, he drove straight to your apartment. He barely knocked before the door opened. Buck stood there. He looked at Eddie for a long moment, then stepped aside. "It's about time." Buck grabbed his keys. "I'll give you two some privacy." As he passed Eddie, he squeezed his shoulder. "Don't waste another second." Then he left.
You were sitting on your couch, still wrapped in the same blanket. You looked up when Eddie walked in. "...Hey."
He closed the door. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then he crossed the room. "I know."
Your stomach dropped. "...Know what?"
"Everything."
You closed your eyes. "Hen."
He nodded. "I'm sorry."
You laughed sadly. "You don't have anything to apologise for."
"I do." He sat beside you. "I've loved you for years."
You stared at him. "...What?"
"I've always loved you." Tears filled your eyes again. "But I convinced myself you deserved better." He shook his head. "You deserve someone who doesn't have all my baggage."
"Eddie—"
"I've got so many scars. My past. My trauma. I'm raising Christopher. I thought..." His voice cracked. "I thought loving you meant letting you find someone who could give you more."
You reached up and gently cupped his face. "Eddie." He looked at you. "You don’t see yourself the way I do." He frowned. "You see broken, but I see strong. You see baggage, but I see someone who survived. You see flaws, but I see the most devoted father I’ve ever met, the most loyal friend, the kindest man, the bravest firefighter, and the biggest heart." You smiled through your tears. "You never needed to be perfect. You already are."
His eyes glistened. "You really think that?"
"I know that."
He let out a shaky laugh. "I've loved you for so long."
"I know."
"I'm sorry it took me this long."
You shook your head. "You found me. That's enough."
He rested his forehead against yours. "I love you." The words you'd dreamed of hearing for years.
"I love you too."
Finally, he kissed you, slow and careful, as if he had been waiting just as long. When you pulled apart, you were both smiling through tears. For the first time in months, the emptiness was gone.
You laughed softly. "So..."
"So?"
"You gonna take me on an actual date?"
He grinned. "I was thinking of dinner, then maybe ice cream.
“You know Christopher is going to interrogate me first."
He laughed. "Oh, absolutely."
You smiled wider than you had in weeks. "I think I can handle that."
He took your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "You won't have to do anything alone anymore."
When you looked into his warm brown eyes, you believed him. For the first time, loving Eddie Diaz didn’t hurt. It finally felt like home.
