Jethro Gibbs x period!reader

title: i only want him

warnings: swearing, age gap

a/n: yes he's hot shut up. i got my period so I wrote this. for the girls. sorry for typos, i love y'all.

Chapter 11 ~ The Supernatural Wars.

Pairing: English Dean Winchester X Y/N L/N

Blurb: When the residents of this Earth found out that they were but a draft in God's numerous stories, they decided to make noise in hopes that their creator would return. Nothing can be louder than the begs of the powerless, the cackles of the ruthless, or the unending destruction left in the wake of the most merciless wars any universe can ever see—here the bloodshed never ends. So, tell me how can two young soulmates, then, find love's shade of red under all this crimson gore?

Warnings/Trigger Warnings (18+): Language, gore, violence, major and minor character deaths, thoughts of suicide (not graphic), substance abuse (alcohol and cigarettes), mentions of wars (I mean, it's in the name).

{ Series Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }

Chapter 11: Ups And Downs Of A Ferris Mess.

Second Chances: Forever - Part Fifteen of ?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in the grocery store brought a whirlwind of change to Beau Arlen’s life—change he had no issues with whatsoever. A second chance at life, love, family—a second chance at forever. Word Count: 5,731 Tags/Warnings: Just so much fluff! A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter Fifteen: Being There

Beau was sliding his jacket on, the last hint of daylight spilling through the blinds in his office, casting amber streaks across the floor. The day had been long but productive, and the thought of going home—to Y/N, to the kids—was pulling at him like gravity.

His phone buzzed just as he reached for his keys. Carla.

A familiar name. A voice he hadn’t heard in a while, but not one that stirred dread—just history. Shared roads. Quiet understanding.

Read warnings before reading this story, this might gross some people out and it's totally ok.

You didn’t sign up for this.

Well, technically, you did. You agreed to help your uncle. Uncle Billy doesn’t ask for much unless it’s everything. And apparently, “everything” now included babysitting rhe most psychotic, narcissistic, 1940s man-child Supe in the country.

Soldier Boy was parked in front of the motel’s TV, flipping through channels like he owned the damn place. You were hunched in the kitchenette, gripping the counter like it might save you from the hellscape that was your uterus.

Temp V hadn’t just messed with your nerves and muscles — it had dialed your cycle up to demonic. You felt like your insides were staging a mutiny with knives.

“You okay?” Annie peeked in, concern knitted between her brows. “You look... pale. Have you tried working out? That sometimes helps.”

You whipped around, eyes flashing. “Working out? I can barely crawl to the bed, Annie. How the hell do you expect me to drag myself to a gym?!”

From the other side of the room, Soldier Boy chuckled low. “Well, there is another kind of workout, sweetcheeks. One where you don’t need to leave he bed."

Your face twisted in confusion — then realization.

You blinked. “Ew. That’s gross.”

Ben just shrugged, eyes still on the TV. “It gives the same endorphins as sports. Besides a little blood never hurt nobody.”

“Again, ew! No!”

“Moisture is moisture,” he replied with a smirk, finally glancing over his shoulder at you. “If you need someone to lend a hand... or anything else, just yell.”

You gave him a withering glare before locking yourself in the bathroom with the loudest door slam you could muster.

The next few days were hell. Pain. Cramps. Nausea. Temp V withdrawal. More cramps. Soldier Boy’s suggestive comments. You’d screamed into a pillow more times than you cared to admit.

But on day four, you cracked.

You stumbled out of the barhroom, sweat-slick and dead-eyed, collapsing next to him on the couch. Your body felt like it had been through war, and even the shitty motel couch felt like heaven.

Ben raised a brow. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” you muttered. “Feel like it too.”

He shifted slightly to make room. “You here to take me up on that offer?”

You snorted weakly, resting your head back. “Only if you promise I'm not gonna to die halfway through.

“Sweetheart, I invented halfway through.”You cracked a tired smile. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Doesn’t have to.”

You shook your head, but you didn’t move. Not yet. You were too tired. Too sore. Too everything.

But for once, he didn’t push. He just turned the volume up and let you rest, the heat of him radiating against your arm.

Maybe, just maybe, this whole “babysitting” thing wasn’t entirely hell. Well not if he kept his mouth shut.

You sat there in silence for a long moment, eyes fixed on the screen but not really watching. Your body was a war zone, every nerve ending firing off like a bad fireworks display. Still, maybe it was the fever haze of pain or the desperation for anything to distract you that made you speak again.

“So... let’s just say someone wanted to... have sex while...” You gestured vaguely at your abdomen, grimacing. “You know. Theoretically, obviously.”

Ben slowly side-eyed you, his brow lifting. He reached forward and turned the volume on the TV down, a small smirk playing at the edge of his mouth.

“Theoretically?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” you said stiffly, arms crossed over your stomach. “Theoretically.”

“Well,” he started, casual like this was an after-dinner conversation and not completely unhinged. “Theoretically, it all stays the same. Boy meets girl..."

"Yeah I know the bees and birds crap Ben. I mean what about, you know the mess one might make." Ben shrugged. "Could put a towel in bed. Lay on top of that.”

Your expression twisted like he’d just suggested using a white couch. He noticed, of course. “Or,” he added smoothly, “the shower. Clean. No mess. No stains. Everything washes right off.”

You blinked at him. “The shower?”

He leaned back, one arm slung lazily over the couch, looking a little too pleased with himself. “Yeah. Hot water, slick bodies, less of the whole murder cleanup situation.”

You stared at him like he’d just done calculus in front of you. Then, suddenly doubling over with another sharp cramp, you grabbed your stomach and hissed through your teeth.

Ben didn’t move to help, just watched with a tinge of concern—and maybe, annoyingly, amusement. "You know way too much about this,” you groaned.

He shrugged one shoulder, all nonchalance. “A man learns things in seventy years. Some things stick.”

“You’re disgusting.”

He grinned. “And you’re the one asking me how to bang on your period, theoretically.”

You let your head fall back against the cushion, hand still clutching your stomach. “God, I hate that this is somehow the most helpful conversation I’ve had all week.”

Ben reached for the remote again. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents. And for you I'm free of charge."

You snorted. “Yeah, okay. Let me survive this uterus apocalypse first.”

“Take your time, sweetcheeks. I ain’t going anywhere."

---

Later that night, the TV was playing some rerun he wasn’t watching, and the dim lamp by the bedside barely cut through the motel’s perpetual gloom. Ben’s attention flicked from the screen when he noticed you get up slowly, one hand on your lower back, the other cradling your stomach, and shuffle toward the bathroom.

“Need a hand?” he asked, voice light, teasing.

You grunted something that sounded suspiciously like *go to hell* and closed the bathroom door behind you.

Ben didn’t move. Not right away. But he listened.

You stood there for a moment, just breathing, one hand on the sink’s edge, staring at yourself in the mirror.

The cramps hit hard again, a sharp, twisting pain that pulled a whimper straight from your throat before you could stop it. You hated being weak. Hated needing help. But the pain was relentless — and, annoyingly, the stupid Supe lounging out there might be the only one who could distract you from it.

“Ben,” you called out, voice tight and shaky.

There was silence. Then the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps.

The door creaked open a few inches. “Yes?” he asked, feigning innocence like he didn’t already know damn well what this was about.

You swallowed, trying to focus on anything other than how flushed your skin felt. “If we do this,” you started carefully, “if we try it, and I don’t like it—”

“We stop,” he finished easily, his voice softer than it had been all night. “Simple.”

You looked at him. Really looked. There was no smirk. No joke. Just heat behind his eyes and something unexpectedly patient.

You nodded once, lips pressed into a line. That was all he needed.

Without a word, he stepped inside and pulled the curtain back."After you."

You should’ve felt awkward dropping your towel. Shy. Something. But as the warm water ran down your skin and Ben stepped in behind you, tall and solid and radiating heat, all you felt was the faintest flutter of something else entirely—something that, for once, wasn’t pain.

“You sure?” he murmured, his voice close against your ear now, steam curling between you.

You took a breath, still clutching the edge of the shower wall for balance.

“No,” you admitted. “But I’m tired of hurting.”

The water poured steadily between you, steam curling around your bodies. Ben’s hands found your hips first — warm, steady, not rushing. You expected something crude, immediate. But instead, his touch was patient. Slow.

His fingers moved deliberately, rubbing small circles along your lower back, then upward between your shoulder blades. The tension in your body was impossible to miss — you were practically locked up, muscles clenched like you were bracing for pain.

“Relax,” he murmured, lips brushing against your ear. “You’re tighter than a damn vice, sweetheart.”

You huffed, half a laugh, half frustration. “Yeah, well... maybe if you hurried up I wouldn't think about it too much. ”

Ben chuckled, the sound low and rough against your neck. “That’s not how this works,” he said, planting soft kisses against your damp skin, trailing down the curve of your shoulder. “If you don’t ease up, it won’t help. Your body would just be fighting me the whole time.”

You exhaled, long and slow, eyes fluttering shut. His mouth, his hands — they were still gentle, still coaxing instead of taking. It was disarming in a way you hadn’t expected from him.

You didn’t even notice you were leaning into him until you felt his chest against your back, solid and warm, anchoring you.

Then his hand moved lower. Fingertips brushing between your thighs, slow, testing, teasing. You stiffened instinctively and your hand shot down, grabbing his wrist.

“Relax,” he said again, softer this time, voice more coaxing than before. “I got you.” You held your breath for a beat. Then you let go. And just like that, the pain didn’t feel so loud anymore and you focussed on his touch.

When Ben felt you were ready — really ready — his hand gently guided your hip, turning you toward the tiled wall. His voice dropped, commanding but low, not cruel, just... certain.

“Bend over,” he murmured. “Hands on the wall.”

Your body hesitated. Just for a second. Because this — this — was Soldier Boy. And this moment wasn’t supposed to be this vulnerable. Not with him. But his touch was steady, patient. His warmth surrounded you.

You did as he asked.

The first moment he pressed against you, it was strange — not painful, not intense, just... surreal. The kind of moment you never imagined you’d live through. You braced yourself, heart hammering — and then he started to move.

Slow. Careful. Gentle in a way you didn’t think Ben even had in him. And for some reason you need to feel more of him. Gradually you moved to stand up straighter, wanting to feel his chest against your back while he dipped in and out slowly.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your neck, one hand steady on your waist, the other tracing light, grounding circles along your breast. “You’re doin’ so good. Just breathe. Relax.”

The words. His voice. They did something.

You started to move without thinking, syncing with the rhythm he set — gentle, measured, built more around soothing than pleasure, though somehow, it gave you both. Every time his hips met yours, another layer of pain peeled away, like your body was finally letting go.

“Ben,” you breathed, barely a whisper. He kissed the side of your neck, still cooing in that low, reverent voice. “I got you, sweet girl. I’m right here.”

And for the first time in days, you believed it.

You weren’t just easing the ache in your body — you were finally letting yourself feel something other than pain. You moved for him. Grinding against him. Guided by the sound of his voice and the heat he left on your skin.

And for once, in the middle of a shitty motel bathroom with a literal war relic whispering soft praise into your ear, you forgot the pain.

And then — he shifted just slightly, angle changing, and hit that spot that made you see stars. You cried out, a broken, breathless sound that echoed off the tiled walls, sharp but laced with something sweeter. Relief. Release.

Ben stilled for half a second, then his voice came low, rough, but tinged with a little smugness. “That it?” he asked against your ear, lips brushing skin.

“Yes,” you gasped. “Yes, yes… oh god, yes.” It came out like a prayer, desperate and grateful all at once.

He adjusted his grip on your hips, grounding you with strong hands as he started to move faster — not rough, but with intent. Purpose. Each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, until your thoughts scattered like ash.

Your hands slipped a little against the wall, knees weakening with every stroke. And then you were gone — falling over the edge with a shuddering gasp, hips stuttering as pleasure rolled through you like a wave.

Ben followed right after, a sharp grunt of breath at your shoulder. He pulled out fast, just in time, one hand guiding himself down as he spilled into the tub with a low groan, keeping his other hand steady next to yours on the wall.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Just the sound of the water and your shaky breaths filled the space. You turned your head slightly, blinking back at him with your lips parted, legs still trembling beneath you.

He caught the look and softened — just barely — leaning in to press a kiss to your damp, overheated forehead.

“Take your time,” he murmured, voice gentle now. You nodded, still catching your breath, your fingers gripping the wall for one last moment of stability.

And for the first time in days, your body didn’t feel like a battleground.

The moment you walked out the bathroom you noticed the bed was semi made and a glass of wine on the nightstand. Ben was watching the tv but got up to guid you to the bed.

Instead of telling him to leave you alone, like you would have any other time, you held his arm will sliding into the bed. "I... I eh.." He smiled, a genuine soft smile and nodded, climbing in begin me.

You lay there in the quiet, wrapped in Ben’s warmth, his hand still gently moving over your belly. The pain had dulled to a low hum now, manageable, distant — and your mind had space to think again.

Maybe too much space.

“…Why’d you do that?” you asked, voice soft against the hush of the room. He didn’t answer right away. His thumb kept drawing slow, absent-minded circles.

“My ex,” you added after a moment, “he would’ve never. Not when I was… like this.” Ben scoffed under his breath — not at you, but at the idea of the guy.

You turned slightly, just enough to glance at him over your shoulder

“Why would you?” you asked. “Why not be grossed out or weird about it like every other guy?”

Ben’s hand stilled for a second before he pulled back just enough so you could fully turn and face him. He was propped slightly on one elbow now, looking down at you, serious — maybe more serious than you’d ever seen him.

“Real men don’t give a damn if you’re shaved, if it’s that time of the month, or any of that bullshit,” he said, voice low, firm. “Your bodies? They’re incredible. You carry life. You bleed, you break, you keep going anyway.”

He touched your face, knuckles brushing your cheek.

“If a man can’t handle that — can’t respect it? Then he’s not a man. He’s a coward. And he sure as hell doesn’t deserve you, sweetcheeks.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how much weight his words carried — like he wasn’t just saying them to soothe you, but because he believed them.

Your fingers found the side of his chest, holding him there. You stared up into his eyes, the space between you almost buzzing with something new — something real.

Ben held your gaze, then leaned in, kissing you softer this time. Slower. And before you could even process it, he shifted, gently moving you onto your back, his body pressing against yours with care.

You felt him, hard and ready, But he didn't act on it — no rush, no teasing. Just heat and connection. Eye to eye. It was different now. He was different.

Or maybe it was you who saw felt something else for him. Something... deeper. More intimate. There was no pain this time. No tension. Just the soft sound of your breathing the quiet rhythm you fell into together.

Your fingers curled into his shoulder. He kissed you again. His forehead rested against yours, both of you quiet in the soft glow of the motel lamp, tangled together in the after heat.

You didn't move. You didn’t want to. You loved the weight the feeling of him close.

His hand brushed your side again, thumb stroking light, lazy patterns over your skin. There was something almost... reverent in the way he touched you now. Like he knew exactly how fragile this moment was, and didn’t want to be the one to break it.

You exhaled slowly.

“You’re not what I expected,” you said into the silence. He huffed, a soft laugh vibrating against your ribs. “You never took your time to get to know me.”

You glanced up at him, and he was already looking at you. That stupid cocky glint wasn’t there this time — just quiet intensity. “Still think I’m disgusting?” he asked with a half-smirk.

You smiled, lips quirking. “Maybe. But you’re disgustingly sweet, which might be worse.” He chuckled again and leaned down, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “Don’t go spreading that around.”

You were about to reply when — *bang*. The motel door slammed open. Ben didn't flinched, groaning like a man who already knew what was coming.

You scrambled to yank the sheet up as a very furious, very loud voice filled the room.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?!” Butcher stood in the doorway, eyes wide, face a redder shade of fury you didn’t know humans could turn.

“Uncle,” you said flatly, heart pounding. Ben didn’t move an inch from where he lay with you, one arm still slung across your waist. The other holding his weight above your head.

“Billy.” He said in his grumpy soldier boy voice.

Butcher’s gaze flicked between the both of you — you, flushed and half-buried in sheets; Ben, looking smug and completely unapologetic.

His eye twitched. “You were supposed to babysit him,” he snapped at you. "You told me to watch him." You shrugged. “Technically, I still am.”

Ben smirked. “She did a thorough job.”

“Jesus Christ,” Butcher muttered, already turning to walk out, probably to punch a wall or throw something. “I’m gonna be sick.” The door slammed again, leaving the two of you in stunned, awkward silence.

Then you burst out laughing. Ben looked amused seeing you feel so good but most importantly without pain. "So," he said. "How about a movie and wine?"

You kissed his lips and whispered "Sounds perfect." Ben draped himself behind you facing the tv. He kissed your ear and whispered. "Just yell whenever it starts to hurt again. I place a few towels in bed."

You elbowed him and joked. "you’re disgusting".

--

@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla @thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27 @globetrotter28 @kindollss @muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch @deansimpalababy @livya99 @yvonneeeee @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @imsiriuslyreal @panickedbitch @roseblue373 @n-o-p-e-never @ariasong11 @lmpala1967 @sherlockstrangewolf @spnaquakindgdom @writtenbyhollywood @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @healojane @star-yawnznn @cevansbaby-dove

Summary: You took the job for the paycheck—not expecting your colleague with wild hair and too many piercings to be this charming. Turns out, behind the sarcasm and mustard doodles, he’s kind of impossible not to fall for.

-requested-

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language

Word Count: 5495

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

Bloodlines & Fate Chapter 11

Being Touched should have been a blessing—a mark of honor in your lineage, celebrated by your pack since childhood. But to you, it's always made you feel like an outsider, never really fitting in anywhere. Yeah, you had your best friend Jess, but for you, something always felt like it was missing. The land your pack runs on during the full moons brings you a sense of peace you don't fully understand, at first.

Paring: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader/You

Word Count: 9410

Warning: Angst, Fluff, Dean getting memories, Reader taking care of Dean, Longing.

A/N: Professor Robert Zimmerman is based off of The Doctor from Star Trek Voyager, as I absolutely love that character. Alaric Saltzman is from The Vampire Diaries.

A/N: It's my first attempt with an A/B/O fic, be gentle, please. I hope you like it. Not sure how many chapters this will be yet.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 11

The change came like a storm. Bones cracked, muscles twisted, fur rushed over skin. But none of it mattered. None of it was strange. None of it hurt. This was right. This was how things were meant to be.

But… his human was silent. Gone.

For the first time, the wolf was alone in the mind. No arguing, no resistance, no voice controlling what they did. Just the wind in his fur, the earth beneath his paws, the steady rhythm of his own breath. The pack ran with him, their voices lifting in song, echoing through the night.

Castmates - CH 9

Summary: Cora is very affectionate with Jared and it makes Jensen upset but when he figures out why the whole thing surprises him. Follow their journey of discovery and love as they navigate the new family Jensen, Danneel, and Cora create. 

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Danneel Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Gen Padalecki, Richard Speight Jr, Cora (OFC), Jade (OFC)

Warnings: This is an RPF fic (the children's names have been changed as follows JJ = Talia Jane/ TJ, Arrow = Scarlett, Zeppelin = Riley, Odette = Olive), angst, loss, discussion of plane crash and death, poly relationship, mentions of cheating, accusations of cheating, misunderstandings. Sex including: oral, p in v, (m/f/f). Janeel x Cora... additional warnings for each chapter will be noted. Mulitple POVs (will be designated clearly)

Chapter Warnings: here lies some misunderstandings, Cora's background, and implied smut, guilt, shame, sadness, (there's a LOT of angst here)

Word Count: 2,335

Cover and Dividers created by me in Canva. Cover photos came from Instagram and Canva

“I’ve got an idea,” Danneel, blurted, “since it’s going to be over 40 minutes before pizza arrives why don’t the two of you head over and get your medical binder – show us what proof you have and we’ll start looking everything over tonight. 

Cora, you have tomorrow off and Jensen has a late call so we can get you well rested still.”

Jensen crossed his arms and let out a small huff of a sigh but agreed and soon enough he and I were back in the truck – silently heading for my one-bedroom apartment. 

BREAKING POINT - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Reader

Summary: Russell made you a promise, but “getting out” of government contract work is even more difficult than he thought it would be. Is he willing to put the past aside, or is this going to be your breaking point?

AN: Welcome back to the Every Second Counts-verse! After the cliffhanger in Bubbly, I know you guys have been wanting this next part of their story. Get ready for a rocky ride — in two parts! 😅 (Also thank you again for all the birthday wishes. You guys are the best. 🥹💜)

Special thanks to the lovely Michelle - @luci-in-trenchcoats - for giving me tons of Tracker spoilers from the books that helped me shape the idea for BP! Both Michelle and Wayne - @waynes-multiverse have been incredibly encouraging and supportive in this one. 💚

Song Inspo: “Come in From the Night” by Chicago

Posted on Patreon: 3/28/2025

Word Count: 6.8K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, secrets and lies of omission, hints of Russell’s shady past, 2x02 events, and a twist…

⌖ Series Masterlist

Part 1: One Step Ahead of the Past

You paused in the middle of the grocery store aisle when you heard the thump. Yet another item dropped into the shopping cart.

You turned your head from the display of buy-one-get-one coffee brands and rose a brow at your boyfriend, trying not to smile.

“Uh, no. I don’t think so,” you said, grabbing the box of Zebra Cakes out of the cart.

“Aw, come on,” Russell implored.

“Babe, Dory and I call these cancer cakes. And you know what, for a guy who somehow keeps in like, Super Soldier-level shape, you’ve got a mega sweet tooth for all things junk,” you teased, and then smiled hard when he snaked an arm around your waist to try and distract you. You knew what he was really aiming for.

Russell Shaw Tag List (Part 2)

Drowning in Silence

Master List

Characters: Jensen x Reader

Trigger Warnings: Anxiety, Depression, feelings of despair

A/N: Just in a bad place right now. Trying to work through it without feeling like a burden. Just keep reminding myself to Always Keep Fighting. I hope if you’re reading this and feeling like I am, I want you to know I see you and I’m here for you. You are worthy, you are wanted and you are loved. 💚

This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life.

Reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated.

Please don’t take my work and use it as your own or on any other platform.

Minors DNI 18+

- Tonight, the line had been crossed, one they could never undo.

So why stop now, right? -

That night, both of them slept very little.

Sometime before dawn, Y/N had turned away, facing the other side of the bed, but Jensen had somehow gravitated towards her in his sleep. His arm draped lazily around her waist, his breath warm against the back of her neck. It felt natural, too natural, as if they had been doing this forever.

The alarm clock buzzed aggressively, but neither stirred at first. It wasn’t until sunlight began creeping through the curtains that Y/N’s eyes fluttered open. She stared at the clock on her nightstand, and suddenly, panic jolted through her like a lightning strike.

“Oh my God!” she gasped, bolting upright.

Jensen groaned groggily, blinking as if he was still caught between sleep and reality. Then he saw her wide-eyed stare and followed her gaze to the blinking red numbers.

“Shit.”

He sat up abruptly, rubbing his face before scrambling out of bed. Clothes were hurriedly grabbed, shirts were shoved on backwards, and shoes were barely tied as he rushed towards the door. He hesitated, just for a second, looking at her—like he wanted to say something, do something—but she didn’t meet his gaze.

Neither of them spoke about what had happened.

Jensen wanted to. He wanted to reach for her, to hold her like he had the night before, to kiss her again, but Y/N remained quiet. Distant. As if the weight of the morning had crushed everything from the night before.

The door closed behind him, and he was gone. Needing to go home before picking y/n up again for the wedding.

The wedding.... Running late for his own wedding.

Y/N sat there, staring at the now empty space beside her, her heartbeat still erratic.

She had no idea what to do next.

--

They arrived at the church together the car ride was as cool and kill like that morning.

Jensen had told Y/N before that he’d pick her up, that they’d drive together since she was his best woman.

And now, after everything, she wasn’t sure how they had managed to fall back into that plan, but here they were—pulling up side by side, both late.

Jared was already outside, pacing near the grand entrance, looking down at his watch with growing impatience. The second he spotted Jensen stepping out of his car, he stormed toward him.

“Dude, where have you been?” Jared asked, exasperated.

Jensen raked a hand through his hair, opening his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Y/N emerged from the car a second later, and Jared’s gaze flickered between them.

He didn’t need an answer.

Y/N saw the exact moment he put the pieces together. His jaw tensed slightly, his expression unreadable, but it was the way his eyes landed on her, seeing something in her face—guilt, hesitation—that made her shift uncomfortably.

Jared sighed, glancing at Jensen. “What the hell did you do?”

Jensen didn’t say much, just rushed inside, his steps hurried and his mind clouded. He wanted to walk straight up the aisle, get this over with, but Danneel was already there, waiting for him before he could take another step.

She folded her arms, eyes flashing with anger. “You should be glad the priest was willing to wait for you, that I was willing to wait!”

Jensen let out a half-hearted chuckle, attempting to defuse the situation. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, isn’t it?”

Danneel didn’t laugh. “Don’t joke, Jensen. Where the hell have you been?”

Before he could answer, her gaze shifted to Y/N, standing just a few steps behind him. Her expression hardened. “And you? What's your part in this?”

Y/N opened her mouth, but Jensen beat her to it. “She woke me up this morning after I failed to pick her up,” he said quickly, his voice smooth but firm.

Danneel narrowed her eyes. She didn’t seem entirely convinced, but with guests waiting and tension rising, she let out a sharp breath. “Just get inside.”

Jensen nodded, but as he stepped past her, he felt the weight of his own lie settle heavily on his chest. He didn’t dare look back at Y/N. If he did, he might not make it to the altar at all.

Y/N stood beside Jensen and Jared, watching as Danneel walked up the aisle. The entire service was a blur, words spoken that she barely processed. Thank God she could mask her tears as happy ones, because the ache in her chest was unbearable.

The moment the vows were exchanged, the moment Jensen said "I do," she knew something had shattered irreparably inside her. But she smiled. She clapped with everyone else. She played her part.

Later, at the reception, the weight of it all crashed down again. Standing in a quiet corner, she let the tears fall freely, hidden by the dim lights and the sound of laughter and music filling the grand hall.

When Jensen and Danneel had their first dance, it was too much. Seeing him hold her close, whisper something in her ear that made her smile—it was the final blow.

"You could call a taxi," a soft voice startled her. “No one would blame you if you left early.”

Y/N turned to find Jensen’s mother standing beside her, watching her with a knowing expression.

She knew.

She had always known how much Y/N cared for Jensen. Maybe even before Y/N had admitted it to herself.

Y/N swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around Jensen’s mother, holding onto her tightly for just a moment. Then, pulling back, she whispered, "Can you tell Jensen I wasn’t feeling well?"

His mother gave her a soft, understanding smile. "Of course, sweetheart."

With that, Y/N turned and slipped away, leaving behind the love she could never have.

--

Two years had passed. Their friendship was never the same again.

Jensen rarely called, and Y/N never reached out either. Everything she knew about his life came through Jared and Gen—his work, his travels, his personal life. It was easier that way, she told herself. Easier than reopening old wounds.

Her birthday arrived, and like every year, she hosted a backyard barbecue for family and friends. Last year, Jensen hadn’t come. She hadn’t expected him to this year either, so when he showed up, it caught her completely off guard.

What caught him off guard was the sight of her giggling and flirting with another man.

He watched from across the yard, brow furrowing as she playfully nudged the stranger—Jimmy, someone he’d never met. They stood close, too close. She was smiling in a way that made something in Jensen’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

Thinking she used to look at him that way.

Unable to stop himself, he leaned toward the group he was seated with. "Who’s that?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

His mother looked surprised. "You don’t know?" She glanced back at Y/N and Jimmy before turning to him. "She’s dating."

Jensen’s stomach dropped. His grip on his beer tightened. "She didn’t tell me," he mumbled, barely hearing the chatter around him as he kept his eyes on Y/N and the man beside her.

Something about it felt wrong.

Something about it felt like a mistake.

--

When Y/N stepped inside to grab another drink, Jensen followed. He waited until they were alone in the kitchen before speaking, his voice tight. "You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone."

Y/N turned, surprised, then immediately defensive. "Well I'm sorry dad, didn't know you were still interested in my personal life."

"Oh come on, y/n!"

"What?" She bit back.

"Don't act like that!"

"Like what Jensen? Like a total stranger, because that is what I feel when you bother to talk to me or show up."

"We're not stranger's, a-a-and we talk! We tell each other everything."

Her eyes widen in fury, 'Everything? OK fine," She dropped the drinks with stud on the counter. "How is it going with the entire plan to start a family. Is she pregnant yet? Did you find a gynecologist?"

Jensen’s jaw tensed. "That’s different. It's personal."

"Is it? You told Jared." Y/N crossed her arms, her heart pounding. "You don’t call, you don’t text, and suddenly you care about my love life?"

"I’m your friend, Y/N! Of course I care!

"Bull, Jensen!" Her voice was sharp, raw. "You don’t care. You haven’t cared since…" She lowered her voice, the anger giving way to something more fragile. "Since that night."

Jensen flinched.

Y/N inhaled sharply, straightening. "Now excuse me, I've got guest to serve." She pushed past him, her shoulder brushing his as she left.

Jensen remained frozen, his heart hammering, his eyes following her as she rejoined the party outside. Jimmy rubbing her back.

--

When evening ended, Danneel was ready to leave, but Jensen barely heard her. His attention was locked on Y/N, noticing how Jimmy was leaving as well. So they're not living together then....

This was his chance.

He turned to Jared, voice low. "Do you mind dropping Danneel off at home?" Danneel’s head snapped toward him. "What?"

Jensen didn’t look away from Y/N. He couldn’t. He needed to talk to her. Alone. Danneel’s jaw tightened. She hated the idea. Hated how focused he was on Y/N. But Jensen didn’t care.

Not anymore.

--

Danneel had left with Jared and Gen.

The house had grown quiet, except for the soft hum of crickets outside and the occasional clink of bottles as Y/N cleared off the table on the back patio. The scent of grilled food and laughter still lingered in the air, but the warmth of the party had faded.

Jensen stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the faint kitchen light behind him, watching her. Her hair was tied up now, strands falling loose from the heat and movement of the day. She hadn’t noticed him yet—or maybe she had, and was pretending not to.

He finally stepped out, voice low but clear.

"Do you love him?"

She froze mid-reach for a plate. Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t turn around. "Yes."

Jensen swallowed, his voice hoarser now. "More than me?"

She did turn then, slowly, her face shadowed but her eyes fierce. "Jensen... that’s not fair. I can’t answer that."

"It's just a question." He added looking sheepish. "I would never ask you that." She tried to block the question.

"I’d answer," he said, stepping closer.

She stared at him, heart pounding. The breeze caught the hem of her dress, fluttering it slightly. She braced herself. "Okay then, fine. Who do you love most?"

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

"You."

Silence. Utter silence.

Her throat tightened. She looked away for a second, because it was too much—too direct. Too real.

"You don’t get to say that," she whispered. "Not after marrying someone else. Not after leaving me the way you did, after behaving, ignoring me, the way you did."

"I know," Jensen replied, softer now, stepping close enough that she could smell the bourbon still clinging faintly to his shirt. "But it’s the truth."

Y/N leaned against the table, needing the grounding. Her fingers curled over the edge, gripping hard. "Why are you telling me now?"

"Because seeing you with someone else made me realize I loved you before I even knew, And that I never stopped being in love with you. And maybe... maybe I was just too much of a coward to admit it before."

She shook her head slowly, her breath shaky. "You always had a choice. You chose her."

"And I’ve regretted it every day since. You think I didn't know why you left my wedding so soon? That I didn't see you talk to my mom?"

The wind rustled through the trees above them. Jensen stood there, as if the weight of the years they’d missed was pressing on his chest.

Y/N looked at him then. Really looked at him. "And what am I supposed to do with that, Jensen?"

He didn’t have an answer. But he didn’t leave either.

And neither did she.

They stared at each other, something electric and painful passing between them like static in the thick summer air. Then Y/N turned, collecting the rest of the dishes wordlessly and walking inside. Jensen followed after a beat, silently picking up what was left and trailing her into the kitchen.

They cleaned in silence. The clinking of plates, the running faucet, the soft hum of the overhead light—everything felt louder in the quiet tension between them. She was drying a plate when Jensen set down a bowl and suddenly reached for her waist.

His hands slid gently around her, turning her to face him, pulling her in, locking her body between his and the kitchen counter.

Her breath caught.

"Why are we like this, Y/N?" he asked, his voice rough, his forehead resting against hers. She barely whispered, "Because we fucked up."

"We should have never crossed that line," she added, her words trembling. Jensen didn’t move back. His grip didn’t loosen.

"In a way... I don’t regret it," he said softly. "I just... I miss you. And seeing you with..."

He couldn’t finish. He didn’t have to. She knew exactly who he meant.

Her hands rested on the edge of the counter, trapped between them, unmoving—but she didn’t pull away.

"You still haven’t answered me," he said after a moment.

She sighed, looking down, her voice barely audible. "I can’t say it."

"I need to know," Jensen pushed, his voice strained. Their eyes locked."I need to know where I stand."

Y/N blinked slowly, gathering herself. "I’ve waited so long, Jay. And you never had an eye for me."

"I did," he pressed, urgent now. "Always had. I was just afraid to lose you, and look what happened."

Her voice cracked. "You lost me after marrying Danneel and pretend I wasn't someone you knew for decades. After spending one night with me... and then choosing someone else."

His eyes shimmered with tears. "I know." He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. A lingering, heartbreaking touch.

Then came the silence. Not awkward or empty—but full. Heavy with everything left unsaid. With every missed moment, every unspoken truth, every what-if that had haunted them both for years. It stretched between them like the last breath before a goodbye.

Then he turned, slowly walking toward the door, defeated.

His hand touched the doorknob.

And then he heard it. Soft. Barely more than a breath.

"You."

He stopped in his tracks.

Jensen turned to look at her.

His eyes were red, glistening with unshed tears. He didn’t move, just stood there staring at her, like her whisper had cracked something wide open inside him.

"It will always be you," she added, voice trembling.

He took a step forward, and before he could even form another thought, love surged through him like a current. He crossed the space between them in a breath, his hands finding her face and threading into her hair.

And then he kissed her—deeply, desperately—his lips pressing against hers like they were the only truth he had left in the world.

---

Epilogue

Ten months later...

The late autumn sun poured through the window of the cozy kitchen, casting golden rays across the wood floor. Jensen stood barefoot, flipping pancakes, while Y/N leaned against the counter, coffee mug in hand, wearing one of his flannels over her pajama shorts while reading the final divorce papers. "So it's settled, for real now?"

"Yeah, This is the official document." Jensne murmured.

Their mornings had turned into a quiet kind of beautiful—slow and easy. Full of half-laughed conversations, burnt toast, and music playing too softly in the background.

She finally look up, "You’re burning those," Y/N teased, sipping her coffee. Jensen grinned, flipping a slightly-too-browned pancake with a flourish. "They’re rustic. Like me."

She chuckled and walked over, stealing a piece before it hit the plate. "Mm. Rustic tastes suspiciously like charcoal."

He caught her waist, spinning her gently and pulling her close. "Don’t care. You’re still eating it."

"Only because I love you," she teased.

"Say it again," Jensen said, eyes twinkling.

She raised an eyebrow. "That you're burning the pancakes?"

He kissed the tip of her nose. "No. That you love me."

She leaned in close, their foreheads touching. "I love you, Jensen. Always."

He kissed her then, slow and tender, the way mornings like this deserved. The kind of kiss that said thank you for staying. For choosing me too, even after everything.

Outside, the world moved on. But inside that little kitchen, it was just them—finally right where they belonged.

--

Jensen: @jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla @thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @globetrotter28 @kindollss @muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @deansimpalababy @livya99 @yvonneeeee @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @imsiriuslyreal @panickedbitch @roseblue373 @n-o-p-e-never @ariasong11 @lmpala1967 @sherlockstrangewolf @spnaquakindgdom @writtenbyhollywood @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @healojane @star-yawnznn @cevansbaby-dove

Beau looked over as you turned your phone screen off with a sigh. “Let me guess,” he spoke up.

“I don’t want to talk about.”

“He can’t make dinner,” he continued, ignoring your protest. “Not surprised, although it is your what? Two year anniversary?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about, Beaufort.”

The engine of his Land Rover filled the silence as the tension floated between you. You looked at the clock of the radio.

“So, explain it to me again…”

“Wow, managed to keep quiet for a whole two minutes,” you quipped, giving him a smile. “What is it, Sheriff?”

“He cancels plans, flirts with other women, always going out with the guys, some nights he doesn’t even come home,” Beau rambled on, though it wasn’t anything you hadn'theard before.

“So you were eavesdropping?”

“No, not eavesdropping,” he grinned

Summary: You took the job for the paycheck—not expecting your colleague with wild hair and too many piercings to be this charming. Turns out, behind the sarcasm and mustard doodles, he’s kind of impossible not to fall for.

-requested-

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3000

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 🩷

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, some violence

This is written in the style of the Series 24.

Everything you read occurs in real time.

What happened in the last chapter:

The mastermind of the kidnappers revealed his evil plan to Abby. His assistant turned against him and decided to help Abby escape. Tony found the cameras installed in the bullpen and in the lab, while Gibbs finally realized who his enemy was.

Hour 10 of 12: 05:00 pm - 06:00 pm

05:11:56 pm

NCIS HQ:

Gibbs had always suspected that Richard would take revenge on him one day, but he had hoped that he would attack him personally and not his employees.

On the other hand, it was clear that he wouldn't dare challenge him directly, because Richard was too cowardly for that. He also knew that the best way to torment Jethro would be to hurt Abby.

Of course he knew that… After all, Gibbs had trained him as a special agent. At this thought, the investigator audibly exhaled the breath he'd been holding and shook his head in disbelief. How could he have been so mistaken about someone? But money was obviously a very good argument for betraying his colleagues. That was something Jethro, thankfully, would never understand.

Suddenly, Palmer cleared his throat next to him. When had he arrived? He hadn't even noticed him because he was so lost in his own thoughts.

"Palmer?" Gibbs asked shortly.

The man wrung his hands and replied, "Any news?"

"We found the cameras and we know who one of the two kidnappers is. He used to be one of us," the boss reported.

Jimmy's eyes almost popped out of his head in amazement. Stunned, he asked, "Was?"

That was Tony's cue, and he hurried to tell his colleague what had happened:

"The kidnappers' leader is a former NCIS Special Agent trained by Gibbs. But Richard enjoys living in luxury and used his position to do business with the drug mafia.

They smuggled drugs on naval ships and began to build a drug ring. But Gibbs tracked him down and Richard, along with other colleagues, lured him into an ambush.

Two colleagues were shot, and the boss took a bullet in the shoulder, but he managed to catch him and beat the shit out of him.

Richard's father couldn't bear the shame and took his own life six months after his son's imprisonment. Richard then swore eternal and cruel revenge on Gibbs."

05:28:08 pm

In the hiding place:

As promised, Ernest had untied Abby's handcuffs and then gone back to Richard to distract him.

As he realized, Abby was right. Distraction wouldn't be enough to escape far enough to be safe. Hell, they wouldn't even get out of the hall before Richard shot them both.

Another problem was that Abby had to undo her shackles, otherwise escape would be impossible anyway. As a sign that she had succeeded, they had agreed that she would gently scrape her feet on the concrete floor so that it wouldn't be too conspicuous. But the signal has not yet sounded.

Ernest was beginning to worry about whether she would even make it and would have liked to go to her and help her. But that would have been too suspicious.

He kept looking in her direction as inconspicuously as possible, but there was still no sign of her. He was starting to get nervous. If Richard got wind of their attempt to escape, they'd both be as good as dead.

The only one whose life was relatively safe was you. Because Galileo needed you to torment Gibbs.

This irony wasn't lost on Da Vinci. Because even though they had to leave you behind to get help, you were the one who was safest.

But wait. Only Abby would escape, because Ernest had no intention of leaving you defenseless in front of Richard. But in doing so, he signed his own death warrant.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted, however, as Richard eyed him suspiciously and asked, "Are you okay? You seem nervous."

Ernest swallowed hard. Obviously, he wasn't as inconspicuous as he had hoped. "I'm nervous about the bomb that's about to go off. Are you sure you can defuse it?"

Anxiously, he waited for an answer, but for several seconds nothing happened. Then Richard started laughing out loud, patted him on the shoulder and said with a wink, "Relax. There's only flour in that suitcase. But nobody knows that except us two."

Ernest took a deep breath, but only for a moment. Because could he really trust Galileo?

There! There it was! The signal! Abby had managed to free herself and was shuffling her feet!! Now it was time to put her plan into action.

What he didn't know, however, was that you woke up in the meantime. Abby was very relieved and happy about it. But her joy was dampened by the fact that you had a terrible headache and were extremely dizzy.

In this state, you were a danger to Richard and to the success of their escape plan, but escaping with Abby would not be possible for you.

What should she do?

...05:58:59 pm...2 hours left until the explosion…

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story.

Masterlist stories Part 1 - finished ones

Masterlist stories Part 2 - finished ones and ongoing ones

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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👀 Sneak Peek: BREAKING POINT (Part 1)

Hey, friends! Happy Saturday, and thank you again for all the birthday wishes (and lovely fic gifts) these past few days. 🥰💜💜

I have another two-parter coming soon, finally the sequel to Bubbly in the Every Second Counts-verse...

BREAKING POINT

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Reader

Summary: Russell made you a promise, but “getting out” of government contract work is even more difficult than he thought it would be. Is he willing to put the past aside, or is this going to be your breaking point?

Coming soon in Part 1:

Russell Shaw Tag List (Part 2)