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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 3 days ago

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This One’s for the Girls 15/?

Keep climbing that mountain.

Summary: your annual girlstrip to a special supernatural event after a bad breakup, Jensen being Jensen but what does it mean?

Word count: 18.2k whoops.

Yall know the OCs

Warnings: bring tissues. Talks about guns, traumatic memories, infertility, hospitals, procedures, I think that’s it. Wait. Bonnie being a little more unhinged.

Jensen was on set, the kids were planning world domination with Misha and his kids, Bonnie and Jeff took Gus and George to some sailing thing in Malibu.

So naturally you called Ivy and Bridgette. Because out of all the people around you lately, you still rarely got to see them. And Ivy was busing Bridgette.

You’d planned lunch, after facials, then you’d probably go shopping because what else do you do when you’re in Los Angeles?

You were at a sun-drenched café just off Melrose. Ivy stirred her matcha, calm and composed, even with finals around the corner. Bridgette was glowing in a “just got back from Europe and kissed a man under a streetlamp” kind of way. The three of you had tucked into bowls of overpriced pasta and shared plates, catching up like time hadn’t passed.

“So how’s school?” you asked Ivy, glancing at your phone again—fourth time in ten minutes. Jensen had texted three times, convinced you’d been kidnapped or wandered off into the abyss.

“It’s great. I take my final next week,” Ivy said, her lips twitching into a smile. “And when I do, I’ll officially be allowed to deliver baby Ackles.”

You nearly choked on your sparkling water. “Hold on there, Ivy C.N.M. We’re not even trying yet. I’m still on birth control. He’s swamped right now anyway. You’ll probably deliver a dozen babies before ours.”

Bridgette laughed softly, her smile catching the sunlight. “Speaking of love lives—Chase and I just got back from London.”

“You did not,” you gasped. “And you didn’t post anything!”

“I wanted to keep it just for us, you know?” she said, cheeks pinking. “We went to like a million bistros. Saw a show in the West End. And he’s planning Paris next. I really like him.”

You leaned back, watching her trace the rim of her coffee cup, blue streaks in her hair catching the light. She looked content, truly content. It made your heart squeeze. She deserved that. They both did.

Ivy, with her straightened hair for once, looked unusually relaxed. Like the weight she normally carried as a med student, an aspiring badass, a friend—had somehow lightened.

They didn’t know about Bonnie yet. And you were damn sure not telling them. That was Bonnie’s big news.

Instead, you let yourself be pulled into the golden haze of the Los Angeles afternoon. You paid the bill, and the three of you drifted down the sidewalk like teenagers without curfews. The city hummed around you: palm trees swaying, horns honking, someone’s music playing too loud from a parked car.

Naturally, shopping was next.

You weren’t even looking for anything specific—maybe a new jacket, maybe candles, maybe nothing. The boutique on La Brea had that curated, effortlessly cool LA vibe: cement floors, racks spaced wide enough for strollers or small dogs, and a wall of sunglasses Bridgette swore by. She was already trying on a pair shaped like dragonfly wings, Ivy held up a dress, telling Bridgette about some skincare thing when you saw it. A navy blue hoodie. Simple, soft, and absolutely Jensen.

You were elbow-deep in a disorganized stack, trying to find a large, when the air shifted behind you.

“I’m telling you, Meachum, we’re on the wrong path here,” said a sharp voice behind a shelf. “Finau said—Golyester.”

“He did,” came a gravel-toned reply. “And I happen to know that nice lady’s last name is Golyester. C’mon.”

Your blood froze.

You’d seen Jensen work a hundred times now—on screens, on set visits, from the makeup trailer—but you’d never been inside a scene. Not like this. Not with the lights disguised as overheads and cameras hidden behind display racks. The hoodie was still in your hand. You were standing next to a sunglasses display like just another extra. Looking for a way out.

How did they not have signs or something?

Because you weren’t an extra. You were you—and you were right in the middle of his shot.

Bridgette nudged you from behind a stand of leather bags.

“Don’t move. You’ll mess up the take.”

You looked up.

Jensen—Detective Meachum now—was locked in a conversation with a woman behind the boutique counter. Jessica, playing Agent Oliveras, was flipping through a notepad, gesturing to a phone photo.

“She’s asking if you’ve seen this guy. We have reason to believe he was here three days ago.” Jensen said.

“I wasn’t working that day, Detective,” the actress replied smoothly. “But I can ask—just give me one—”

The moment shattered.

A hand grabbed your shoulder, twisting you violently around. A prop gun pressed hard beneath your jaw, cold and real enough to steal your breath. You didn’t scream, didn’t cry—just froze, caught between instinct and disbelief.

“PUT THE GUN DOWN!” Jensen’s voice snapped through the boutique the second he realized it was you—no longer controlled, no longer the gruff cadence of Detective Meachum. Pure panic.

You barely heard the actress, now unhinged in character: “One move, she’s dead.”

Everyone dropped. Ivy went low with a sharp gasp, Bridgette giggled behind you. Extras crouching behind shelves. No one yelled cut.

Jessica, staying in character, hands raised. “We can talk about this. Just put the gun down. We just want to ask Granger a few questions.”

“Why?” the woman sneered. “So you can lock him up again? Not this time. I just got him back. He’s innocent.”

“Let her go. No one has to get hurt.” Jensens voice shook. Not enough for anyone else to catch but you knew him.

The pressure of the fake gun never lessened. It trembled against your skin.

Jensen—Meachum—moved like a man possessed. Prop Gun up. But his eyes were locked onto yours, blazing. Not acting. Not anymore.

“Drop the gun, Detective,” the woman spat, voice flat and steady.

God, she was good.

But Jensen wasn’t pretending. You saw it—felt it. He wasn’t acting anymore. The scene had lost its edges, turned too real in his mind. He saw you—you—as the hostage. Not a character. Not part of the set.

You opened your mouth to speak, to say something, but the woman suddenly yelled and shoved you forward. You fell, arms catching your weight against the boutique’s cold concrete floor.

The world went still.

“CUT!”

The word pierced the tension like a bell in a church.

Instantly, people rushed in—crew, cast, camera ops. Someone clapped. Another called out praise.

“Nice improv, Jensen. That panic was so believable!”

But you barely registered it.

You were still on your knees, the hoodie pooled next to you, when Jensen dropped down beside you. Not walking. Not waiting.

Rushing.

“It was believable because it was real! What the fuck was that?” he growled, breathless, voice sharp with a cocktail of relief and anger. “She’s not background—she’s my fucking girlfriend.”

He pulled the hoodie from where you’d pulled it over your head, scanning your face like he didn’t trust what he was seeing.

You giggled, half from adrenaline, half to ground yourself. “Next time warn me where you’re filming.”

But Jensen didn’t laugh. His hands cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek, checking for bruises that didn’t exist. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. But if they want a reset, I’m picking the mannequin’s mark next time. Or outside. Not here.”

He let out a shaky laugh then—but his eyes never left you.

“Alright, take ten! We’re setting up the next scene!” someone shouted in the background.

You felt Jensen pull you into his chest, the tension still rolling off of him like steam. His arms were locked around you, iron tight.

“Jensen, can we talk?” Someone asked. Reluctantly he shifted.

“Ten bucks says they want to keep it or scrap the shit and re-do it,” he mumbled against your hair. “This isn’t right. Fucking barbie just had to miss her mark.”

“Barbie? That’s mean,” you murmured back, cheek against his shoulder.

“Character’s name is literally Barbie,” he said with a weak smile. “I didn’t pick it..”

He walked away, talking with his hands to the director you assumed. When he walked back he sighed arm wrapped around your waist.

“They want to see how this plays out. Apparently my panic was too good. This ain’t right, I don't like it.” His jaw clenched.

“They want me to play the victim?” You asked.

“Yep.”

You looked up at him. “Jay, I’m not an actress.” Your voice came out softer, even a little timid.

“I know. I’m not gonna make you do it I called haas he’s on his way. It’s his call ultimately.”

“S—She missed something, right? Messed up?”

He nodded toward the far side of the store. “She was supposed to be over there. Other side of the room. You weren’t supposed to be anywhere near it being on this side. Now here we are. And I’m not making you do anything you aren’t comfortable with, you didn’t ask for this.”

“Jay-“

“I think she should finish this, as a director that’s probably the most emotionally real scene I’ve ever watched.” Bridgette smiled suddenly in front of you.

“No, she—I’m not putting her in this if she doesn’t want to be, she didn’t mean to be here in the first place.”

“Jensen look, I appreciate you being a great boyfriend and I’m sure they do too. But I’m going to say this from their standpoint, instead of your friend. I think they should keep it. Just think about it. If you both don’t want it in then they’ll respect it and Haas will make sure it’s not included. But it was good. That’s just my two cents.”

Jensen looked at you then. “It’s your call sweetheart.”

You nodded. “I’m fine, babe. S’not every day I get to be this up close and personal to your job. I’ll do it if it means you come home earlier tonight.” You smirked.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His jaw flexed. A small grin tugging at his lips.

“You freaked when she pulled that gun. You were asking if I was okay but are you?.”

His hand tightened around your waist.

“Kinda hard not to,” he said quietly. “Even knowing it was a prop. After Rust…”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek. He flinched slightly, jaw still tight, arms refusing to let go.

He didn’t talk about Rust. Not much. But you knew. There had been one scene on Vought Rising that wrecked him for a week. You’d held him through the nightmares, heard the quiet questions in the dark.

Couple years later it still affected him.

“Just want to be sure you’re good.” He said in an almost whisper.

Now you saw the aftermath playing out in real time.

“I’m okay,” you whispered. “I wasn’t expecting any of this today, but I’m alright.”

He nodded—but didn’t let you go.

Not for a long moment.

The crew reset quickly, like clockwork. Camera operators repositioned. Marks were re-taped. A lighting tech adjusted a panel over the changing room wall while someone else brought Jessica a new gun.

Jensen hadn’t moved far.

He stayed within arm’s reach, like letting you out of his sight again might trigger a repeat. He wasn’t saying much—but his hand stayed on the small of your back, thumb brushing slowly. That grounding motion he always did when he needed to calm himself more than you.

“I run to your rescue once Finau catches Barbie. In the next scene. But this wasn’t supposed to be you, now everything is flipped.” he sighed, running a hand down his face.

“It okay, babe.”

“You sure?”

You gave him a reassuring smile, kissing his jaw.

He quickly ran through what you needed to do. Telling you to already be down when the director yelled action

“Alright,” the AD called out. “Scene 42B. Take three. From Finau’s entry. Cameras rolling in 5.”

One of the PAs gave you a wink. “Stay put, mystery lady. You’re in the shot.”

You looked at Jensen with raised eyebrows.

He kissed your temple quickly. “You’re not gonna be in the shot long. Finau tackles Barbie at the back of the store, I run in, and you—”

“—Don’t ruin the take this time,” you finished for him, teasing.

He smirked, but the worry still lingered in his eyes. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“I’m good, Meachum. I’m only doing this for you.” You smirked.

“Quiet on set!”

“Action!”

You hit the floor hard that time. The actress pushed you harder. So much for already being down.

The boutique’s concrete tile slammed into your palms, and your knee clipped the edge of a display stand on the way down. You didn’t even have time to process the sting before the woman—Barbie—was gone, sprinting toward the back of the store like her life depended on it.

Jensen saw it. His fist clenched immediately.

Bridgette and Ivy were down beside you, ducking behind a nearby rack.

The front door of the boutique burst open, and in came Uli—or Finau, broad-shouldered, sprinting full force. The woman—Barbie—whipped around just in time to get tackled, fake gun skidding across the floor with a convincing clack. Shouts filled the space. The extras screamed.

Leave it to you to be at the wrong place at the worst time.

Then Jensen—Detective Meachum—burst into the frame, sprinting straight for you, eyes wide, adrenaline high.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” he barked, crouching down, reaching to steady you.

You blinked.

His eyes were on you, full of unspoken worry even under the character.

Think fast. Play the game.

“I’m fine,” you said, voice pitched just above a whisper. “She just grabbed me. I didn’t see her face. I—God, I’m okay.”

Jessica came in fast, badge out, already barking orders to the other detectives behind her.

“You didn’t hit your head or anything?” Jensen said, still crouched beside you. “What’s your name?”

“My name is… uh…” You blinked, heart skipping a beat as everyone waited. “Rose.”

Jensen blinked at you, just for a split second—but to anyone watching, it looked like Meachum processing.

“Rose what?” he asked, voice soft, almost teasing.

“Winchester,” you said. Instantly wanting to laugh about it.

There was the smallest flicker—Jensen biting the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting. His nostrils flared and you knew he was hanging on by a thread

Jessica stepped in like a pro. “Miss Winchester, we’re gonna get you checked out. Please don’t leave the area.”

you nodded, already biting your lip.

“Cut!” the director called. “That’s a wrap on 42B. Good work, everyone!”

Laughter erupted behind the monitors.

Jensen didn’t move right away. His hand stayed on your arm as his head dropped, his laugh buried in your shoulder laughing.

“Rose Winchester?” he said, his voice pitched with disbelief and affection. “Seriously?”

You turned, eyes bright. “What? I panicked. Thought I’d throw a little tribute in. And rose is my middle name you know this. Maybe Rose is a hunter, maybe she’s waiting for the day her beloved comes back from rebar death. Maybe she’s a powerful witch. Kripke and Haas could write her into the lore when he decides on a reunion countdown supernatural crossover. You’re welcome.”

“Oh, she’s getting written into the lore,” Bridgette shouted, making Ivy laugh behind her.

“Maybe she’s an absolute menace,” Jensen muttered, pressing a kiss to your hair as he helped you sit up. “You could’ve said anything. And you said Winchester.”

You smirked. “Thought it might wake you up a little from all the panic.”

He let out a breath, still not letting go of your hand. “You have no idea.”

And even though the set had gone back to its usual controlled chaos, even though cameras were resetting and the director was moving on, Jensen stayed there a moment longer—his forehead pressed to yours.

Not Meachum now.

Just Jensen.

And you? Apparently you were Rose Winchester now.

Not the worst alter ego in the world.

You were still standing close to him, breath warm against his collar, when the echo of heels hit concrete again.

Katherine.

She strutted across the boutique floor like she had just wrapped a film festival award-winner instead of nearly derailing a scene—twice. “Jensen,” she beamed, “I swear, that was magic. Your reaction to the hostage improv? You could cut the tension with a knife.”

You felt Jensen stiffen before he turned. Gone was the fond, teasing man who’d just called you Rose Winchester. Now he was all steel.

“Katherine,” he said flatly. “You want to tell me what the hell that was?”

She blinked, caught off guard. “The scene? I thought it went great.”

“No, not the scene,” Jensen said, taking a step forward. “I’m talking about you going off-script, missing your mark, and improving holding a gun to my girlfriends jaw and pushing her down—twice.”

Her smile faltered. “I—I didn’t realize at first—”

“You didn’t realize?” His voice cut sharper. “You walked past your own mark, went left instead of right, grabbed someone who wasn’t even in the scene—and didn’t stop. Then you found out who she was, and what did you do next take?” He waited, eyes blazing. “You shoved her again. You were supposed to be standing there. Stella, already on the ground. She didn’t even get the chance to get into position.”

Katherine’s mouth opened like she might lie. Thought better of it.

“You knew she wasn’t in the cast,” Jensen snapped. “You knew she was my girlfriend. She was standing exactly where the director told her to for continuity. And instead of following blocking, you made a choice—a dumb one—to go off-book and shove her around for ‘tension.’” He practically spat the word. “The hell is wrong with you?”

“I was just trying to make it look real,” Katherine mumbled, eyes darting toward the crew now listening in.

“No, you were trying to steal the moment,” he said, voice rising. “Not giving a fuck about direction. That’s not acting—that’s reckless.”

Katherine tried to keep her voice light. “It’s not like I actually hurt her.”

Jensen stopped moving. His entire body went still.

You saw it in real time—the moment his patience snapped clean in half.

His jaw clenched, and when he looked at her, the shift was immediate. Cold. Lethal. The kind of look that usually only came when cameras were rolling and blood packs were involved.

His hand flexed against your waist.

“You seriously just said that out loud?” he said, voice like stone. “You seriously think that makes this better?”

Katherine faltered. “I—I just figured it would play better if I started from the last bit of the first scene—”

“You figured?” Jensen barked, his voice louder now. “You figured oh, she’s not an actress let me just throw her down like a fucking beer bottle?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean shit.” The curse landed like a hammer. “But you did it, and you walked over here like I was going to give you praise.”

“I thought she was fine with it!”

“Fine with what? She’s not an actress!” he shouted. “She didn’t even know we were filming here! She walked in here with her friends Katherine! She isn’t on payroll, she wasn’t briefed, she wasn’t prepped—and when you grabbed her, she didn’t say a damn word, not because she was fine with it, but because she thought maybe—just maybe—if she went along with it, I’d get to wrap sooner.”

Katherine opened her mouth to speak again.

“Don’t.” He cut her off with a raised hand. “Just shut the hell up for a second.”

People were watching now. The lighting crew froze. The PA with the clapperboard backed away slowly. Even the director hesitated before pretending to check the shot list. As you looked over your shoulder.

He was pissed. Which was rare. You knew that. At least on set.

Jensen’s voice dropped, but it was sharp enough to cut glass.

“She didn’t correct you the first time because she didn’t know what the hell was going on. And the second time? She kept going because she thought it would help me.”

Katherine scoffed and Jensens hand heightened around your waist.

“You knew she was mine,” he said, quiet but deadly serious. “You saw her with me after your first screw up. You heard me say she was my girlfriend. And you still went for her again.”

Katherine’s lip trembled. “I didn’t think you’d be so upset—”

“No, you didn’t think at all.” His eyes were blazing now. “You didn’t think about her. You didn’t think about the scene. You didn’t think about the fact that you are new on this set and that your job is to hit your mark, say your lines, and keep your hands to yourself unless the script or the director tells you otherwise.”

“She didn’t look hurt—”

“I don’t give a damn if she looked hurt or not. You don’t get to decide what someone else’s limit is. You don’t get to manhandle the woman I love and then act like it’s fine because you wanted to do it your way.”

His voice dropped another octave.

“She’s mine. Not an extra. Not a prop. Not a place to land your improv when you forget where you’re standing.”

Katherine looked down. “I get it—”

“No. You don’t.” His voice cracked through the air again. “You don’t get it. You’re too busy trying to make yourself look good on camera to realize this isn’t a game. You touch her again or go off script without instruction, and I swear, I won’t be yelling next time—I’ll be walking your ass off this set myself.”

He pointed toward the far end of the boutique. “Get out of my eyeline. Now.”

Derek Haas stepped onto the set, phone in one hand, sunglasses pushed to his head. He spotted Jensen immediately.

“Alright,” he said, voice calm but serious. “Got your message. Where are we at?”

Jensen didn’t waste time. “Whoever cast her. Or briefed her. Needs to be fired. Second scene, Stella is getting ready to get down again and she pushed her.”

Derek’s expression darkened. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish,” Jensen said. “She’s gonna get someone fucking hurt.”

Derek scanned the space. “You alright Stella?”

You stepped forward quietly. “I’m fine.”

Derek turned to you, voice softening. “I’m really sorry. That should’ve never happened. We’ll tighten things up. Better lockups. Better communication.”

Jensen, still steady, cut in. “Look—I’m not trying to blow this up. I don’t want the scene reshot. The take worked. I got to work with my girl. But someone needs to talk to Katherine. She went off-script and crossed a line.”

Derek nodded, taking that in. “You’re not wrong. I’ll pull her. Get Stunts and Blocking to walk her through the protocol. This won’t happen again.”

“Appreciate it,” Jensen said, finally exhaling.

Derek gave him a small smile. “You did the right thing calling me.”

Jensen glanced at you, then back at Derek. “She’s not background, man. Not to me.”

Derek gave him a reassuring nod. “I know. She isn’t on this set.

It wasn’t the last time you saw Jensen that day working. But it was the last time you had a run in with the scenes themselves. You bought that hoodie too. It was obligation.

You’d heard Jensen yelling at the actress. Again.

Well not at her.

Generally he was yelling with her beside Haas. Something about fucking up and then the AD wanting to cover it. Jensen wasn’t one for failed safety.

You secretly hated every second of it. But if it meant taking off him for once. Dammit you’d do it every day.

The kids decided a sleepover at Misha’s was mandatory, so when you got home it was quiet.

Almost too quiet. Bonnie sent pictures of their sailing trip, while you explained your accidental cameo when she called. Sitting in a hot bath looking at the mark on your knee.

“You really had a gun to your jaw?”

“I did, prop gun but Jensen flipped.”

“That’s insane. Jeff is laughing picturing Jensens face when you threw out Winchester.”

“He almost cracked. Maybe I should have said Sam. That would have been gold.”

“When’s he get off?”

“Who knows today was a late day. They had three different locations to shoot in. How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright, I got sick on the boat. Three times. Jeff lost a shirt.”

“May it rest in peace. Alright, I’m turning into a prune and I’m starving. So, tomorrow Lunch with the girls, and I get my favorite trio back right after. Maybe we won’t terrify their daddy on accident.”

“He’d break character over that one I damn near did with you.” You heard looking at the door of the bathroom, Jensen looking exhausted and worn, stomped in hair a mess, beer in hand.

He looked at you a moment before stepping forward. “That happen on set today?” He pointed to your knee.

You said bye quickly before looking up at him. “It did. It’s fine. Accidents happen.”

His jaw tightened.

“Yeah well, you aren’t an actress, and damn sure not a stunt double sweetheart. Haas had Kristen's head on a spike before we called the end of her run today. She tried saying at least it was you like that made it all better.”

“I mean, I’m fine Jay. But is that why you were yelling again?”

He didn’t say anything for a long time.

Then, finally, he came closer. Not with the wide, confident strides the world knew him for—but slow, almost tentative. Like he wasn’t sure he deserved to get close. Like the sight of you sitting there—safe, but still—might shatter him if he got too close.

He crouched beside the tub, setting the beer down, eyes sweeping over you.

“I know you are,” he said softly, the tension in his voice still lingering as he rested his head beside your arm. His breath was warm against your skin, but his body was rigid—like he was still trying to calm a storm inside him.

“But because you’re mine… she thought it wasn’t a big deal. She figured you’d be fine. That you’d just go along with it.” He let out a frustrated breath. “She fucked up.”

His jaw tightened before he continued.

“It was a big fucking deal. I don’t care if it was a prop gun—it was at your jaw. That’s not something you just spring on someone without warning. Especially not you.”

There was a pause. One heavy with the truth he hadn’t said out loud yet.

“I panicked,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “What man wouldn’t? What man—what partner—sees the person they love thrown into something like that and doesn’t lose it a little?”

He reached for your hand, his grip gentle but sure, like he needed to feel that you were really there, really okay.

“You’re mine. And I don’t ever want to see you in that position again. Not even for an accidental scene. Not like that.”

Mine.

The way he said it wasn’t about control. It was about love. About fear. About the depth of what you meant to him.

And it made your heart flutter in a way nothing else could.

Jensen had always been protective—especially with the kids. But lately, something had shifted.

You weren’t just his partner.

You were his safe place. His place to land. Really land. And he let himself..

And now, you were just as fiercely guarded.

You never had that before. But he proved time and time again, he was that.

"At least it was a prop?” You said softly, trying to lighten the mood, pushing his hair from his face gently. His eyes met yours.

“I didn’t see a prop honey,” his voice was shaking. “I saw your eyes.”

His voice cracked on that last word. And that was when you really looked at him.

He hadn’t just panicked. He hadn’t just flinched.

He’d relived the past. Only it was you at the end of that barrel.

“Jay…” you said, softer now.

He shook his head. “I should’ve been faster. I knew she was off her mark. I should’ve—fuck, I don’t know—called it out or something.”

“You were working. Trying to get it done.” you reminded him. “And I let Bridgette pick the store.”

“But I knew. That’s the thing. I saw you before she grabbed you. I registered it—and still froze.”

His voice went tight. “And after…, when I thought I’d buried it—today brought it back like it was yesterday. Just watching someone grab you. Shove you. Gun to your face. I couldn’t separate what was real and what wasn’t for a second. And I hated it.”

You sat up, water sloshing gently around you.

“Babe.”

He looked up.

“I’m here. I’m safe. I’m okay.”

“That doesn’t change the fact you could’ve been hurt worse than a bruise.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“I don’t care if you walked out of there with a scratch or a scar,” he said fiercely. “You’re not expendable. You’re not ‘background.’ You’re not an extra. You’re mine. And seeing you in the middle of something like that… it messed me up.”

There it was again.

your eyes stung a little. Seeing him so upset about the entire situation.

He couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t forget it.

You hated that he went through it alone.

You reached for his hand, tugged it into yours. Still cold from where it had clutched the beer.

You let that sit between you, heavy and thick like fog.

And then you smiled, soft but certain.

“Made for a great scene didn’t it?” You smiled, knowing if you sat there any longer he’d keep stewing.

You grabbed your towel standing up wrapping it around you, before stepping out of the draining tub. He leaned against the counter.

“One of the best. No question. But, that doesn't change it. You are my priority.” He let out a low chuckle, but the tension didn’t quite leave his body.

“Baby, look at me.” you said softly, turning his jaw towards you. “Im okay, and if they use that scene guess what, everyone out there is gonna see you. The real you. The real us. And you can tell the whole world your girlfriend walked in to the wrong store and that a show can be filmed at any second while shopping.”

“Rose Winchester is gonna be a hit.” He finally grinned at you.

“I was on the spot. I couldn’t think and it was either that or Brandi Braxton”

“Braxton?”

“You know I loved C.J.” You smirked his hands wrapped around you in that towel.

“You know I love you right?”

“I love you too.” You said softly. Smiling up at him. Noting the tired lines beside his eyes.

“You sure?”

“I’d say it louder, scream it from the roof,” you teased gently. “But I’m naked, and you’re halfway to a breakdown, and I don’t want to waste it on a meltdown moment.”

His face buried in to your shoulder then. Like he needed to proof you were still breathing.

“I didn’t get scared because it was a gun. I got scared because it was you. And I don’t think I realized just how deep that hit until I saw you frozen like that.”

You kissed the side of his head, slow and deliberate. “And now you do.”

He nodded, just barely. “Yeah. Now I do.” Pulling back his tired eyes landing on yours.

Only for a moment, before a soft smile formed.

He kissed you then—deep, slow, aching with everything he didn’t know how to say.

His hands in your hair.

And when he finally pulled back, breath warm against your lips, he murmured,

“Take a shower with me.” His voice was low, dripping with need, as he stepped closer, his body radiating heat. His lips met yours in a kiss so desperate it felt like he was trying to steal the air from your lungs that time. Your name—unspoken but whispered in the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer. The towel around your body was the only barrier left, and it didn’t last long. His fingers tugged at the fabric, letting it fall to the floor in a soft heap, leaving you exposed to the full intensity of his gaze.

Your breath hitched as your hands moved on their own, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. You pushed it up, revealing the hard planes of his chest, sure to keep your hands on him at all times. He broke the kiss just long enough to toss the shirt aside, his dark grin and hungry eyes making your stomach twist with anticipation. Then he was on you again, pulling you flush against his bare skin, your fingers already working at the buckle of his belt.

“Shit,” you moaned softly, the sound catching in your throat as his lips found your neck. His teeth grazed that sweet spot just beneath your ear, sending a shiver down your spine that made your knees weak. His hands were everywhere—your hips, your waist, sliding down to grip your thighs as he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you toward the shower.

The steam had already begun to fog the mirror, the air thick and warm. He set you down gently, his hands lingering on your skin. The sound of the spray filled the room, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. Jensen’s eyes never left yours as he kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants, leaving him as naked as you were.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, princess,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. He moved closer, his hands skimming over your shoulders, down your arms, until they settled on your hips again. The heat of his body against yours was overwhelming, and you could feel the hard length of him pressing into your stomach, a silent promise of what was to come.

“So fucking beautiful baby.”

He guided you under the spray, the warm water cascading over your skin, mingling with the heat of his touch. His lips found yours again, slower this time, more deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every second. His tongue teased at your bottom lip until you opened for him, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His hands roamed your body, tracing every curve, every dip, as if he were memorizing you.

When his fingers finally brushed between your thighs, you gasped into his mouth, your legs trembling at the sensation. He chuckled softly, lips ghosting yours, eyes locked on yours, the sound dark and possessive, as he pressed harder, circling that sensitive bundle of nerves until your moans filled the steamy room.

“We don't get this much anymore do we princess?” he whispered against your lips, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Just us, no fear of interruptions.” You could only shake your head, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as he continued to tease you, driving you closer to the edge with every touch.

But he wasn’t done. Not even close. Jensen dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands sliding up the backs of your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs. The sight of him there, his eyes locked on yours, your knee over his shoulder suddenly, was enough to make your breath catch.

“Fuck I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He groaned. And then he leaned in, his tongue replacing his fingers, and you cried out, your fingers tangling in his wet hair as he devoured you like a man starved.

The water poured over both of you, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was the way he worked you with his mouth, the way his tongue flicked and circled, the way he groaned against you as if he couldn’t get enough. Your legs shook, your body tightening with each stroke until you were on the verge of falling apart.

“Jensen,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the first wave of pleasure hit you. He didn’t let up, didn’t give you a moment to recover. Instead, he pushed you harder, faster, until you were coming undone in his arms, your cries echoing off the tiled walls.

When he finally pulled away, his lips glistening, he looked up at you with a smirk that made your stomach flip. “Fuck sweetheart,” he said.

Jensen’s smirk lingered as he rose from his knees, kissing up your body as he did, his tall, muscular frame towering over you. Water cascaded down his chest, droplets clinging to the grooves of him like a second skin. His eyes, those piercing, hungry eyes, locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race, his large hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together under the warm water. His lips met yours, tasting yourself, you felt his smirk.

He loved it.

When you kissed yourself off his lips, his tongue, sometimes even his jaw and chin when he worked you more, giving him what he really wanted.

He pulled back for just a second. His grin boyish, making you fall all over again.

“I’ll never get enough of that.” His voice came out gravely.

But this time, you wanted control.

Before he could claim your lips again, you pushed against his chest, surprising him with the force of it. His back hit the tiled shower wall with a soft thud, and you felt the way his breath caught in his throat. Your hands roamed down his slick torso, fingers tracing the hard lines of his muscles as you sank to your knees in front of him. The water poured over you both, but you barely noticed—your focus was entirely on him, on the way his cock throbbed against his stomach leaning slightly to the left, already hard and desperate for you.

Your fingers wrapped around his length, eliciting a low groan from Jensen. His head fell back against the wall, his eyes closing as you gave him a slow, deliberate stroke. You could feel him twitch in your hand, and you grinned, savoring the power you had in this moment. “Look at me,” you whispered, your voice laced with desire.

His eyes snapped open, dark and wild, and he stared down at you as if he couldn’t decide whether to let you take the lead or to flip the script entirely. But you didn’t give him the chance. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to the tip of him, tasting the saltiness of his skin. His breath hitched, and one hand found your hair, the other, your shoulder fingers digging into your flesh as if he needed to anchor himself.

Maybe he did as the tension fell from his shoulders.

“You need to relax. S’been a long day.” You looked up through your lashes.

You took him into your mouth slowly, savoring the feel of him against your tongue. His groan was deep, guttural, and it sent a thrill through you. You moved with purpose, your lips sliding down his length as your tongue swirled around him. Ignoring the immediate sting in your eyes as he went down the back of your throat, and you could feel him hardening even more with every motion.

“Fuck,” Jensen hissed, his voice rough with need. His hips twitched, but he held himself back, letting you set the pace. His fingers tightened on your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way he was barely holding himself together. It only spurred you on.

You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, and he swore again, louder this time. “So fucking good,” he growled, his voice shaking. You looked up at him through your lashes again, meeting his gaze as you pulled back slowly, your lips dragging along the underside of his cock before you took him in again. The look on his face—pure, unrestrained desire—made heat pool low in your belly.

Your free hand slid up his thigh, fingers brushing the sensitive skin just behind his balls, and he jerked against your mouth. “Baby,” he choked out, his voice breaking. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you moaned around him, the vibration making him groan even louder.

He was close—you could feel it in the way his body tensed, in the way his breathing grew more ragged. But you weren’t ready to let him finish yet. Pulling back, you placed a soft kiss on the tip of him again before looking up at him with a sly smile. “Not yet,” you teased, your voice low and sultry.

“Target practice.” You smirked.

Jensen’s eyes darkened, and before you could react, he was pulling you to your feet, pinning you against the shower wall with a growl. “You’re playing with fire,” he warned, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

“Then let it burn baby.” You whispered, a wicked grin curling at the edges of your mouth.

His hands were everywhere—on your hips, your waist, sliding up to cup your breasts as he kissed you fiercely.

You gasped into his mouth as his thumbs brushed over your nipples, already hard and sensitive from the warm water and your earlier arousal. His lips moved to your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as he whispered, “Turn around.”

The command in his voice made your legs weak, but you obeyed, turning to face the wall. His hands were on you instantly, one sliding between your legs while the other gripped your hip. His fingers found your wetness easily, and you moaned as he circled your clit with practiced precision.

“That’s it,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Let me hear you baby.” His other hand slid down your waist, guiding your leg up slightly as he pressed against you from behind. You could feel the way his cock nestled between your thighs, hard and insistent.

“Jensen,” you whimpered, your hands plastered against the cool tile for support. His fingers worked faster now, driving you closer to the edge as his lips trailed down your shoulder. The combination of his touch and the feel of him against you was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself unraveling.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he removed his hand and positioned himself at your entrance. “You ready for me?” he asked, his voice thick with need.

You nodded frantically, unable to form words. With a low groan, he pushed into you slowly, filling you completely. The sensation was electrifying, and you cried out as he began to move. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he thrust into you with perfect rhythm. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through your body.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled into your ear as he pounded into you.He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he pistoned into you.His hands traveled to your breasts,and rubbed then knead them.You arching your back into him moaning. Your fingers laced in his hair, your eyes shining up at him.

"That's it," he grunted "take me baby. Fucking made f’me. Son of a bitch.”

His thrusts slowed for a moment, his body pressing flush against yours, the heat of his skin searing even under the warm spray of the shower. You could feel his breath on your neck, ragged and desperate, and then his lips were there, brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I want to see your face when I make you come again, sweetheart.” His voice was low, almost a growl, and it sent a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the water cascading over your skin.

You turned slowly, your back still pressed against the cool tiles, and Jensen stepped back just enough to let you pivot. His hands moved to your hips, guiding you until you were facing him. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, and you could see the hunger burning in them. He wasn’t just looking at you—he was devouring you, as if every inch of you was something he needed to memorize, to claim.

His hands tightened on your hips as he pulled you to him, then lifting you like you weighed nothing, your legs wrapped around his waist like an anchor, and then he was inside you again, sliding in with one deep, deliberate thrust. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you completely. He didn’t move at first, just held himself there, letting you adjust to the sensation of him, the way he stretched you so perfectly.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. “You’re mine.” His voice was rough, edged with a need that mirrored your own. Then he pulled back slightly, just enough to push into you again, and the slow, deliberate rhythm he set had you moaning softly, your head falling back against the tiles.

His hands moved up your sides, skimming over your wet skin until they cupped your breasts. He kneaded them gently at first, then more firmly, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you arch into him. You could feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter with every thrust, every touch.

“Jensen,” you breathed, his name slipping from your lips like a plea.

“Eyes on me,” he demanded, his voice firm but soft. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and the intensity there nearly stole your breath. His hips snapped forward, driving into you deeper, and you cried out, your fingers clutching at him as pleasure sparked through you.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Let me see you. I don’t want to miss a thing. Not this time.”

You could feel yourself unraveling under his gaze, under the relentless rhythm of his thrusts. His hands slid from your breasts to your hips, gripping you tightly as he increased his pace. The sound of skin against skin was muffled by the rush of the water around you, but it was still there, a steady counterpoint to your moans and his growls.

“I can’t—I’m close,” you gasped, your body trembling as pleasure threatened to overwhelm you.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice a low growl. He slowed his pace again, dragging out each thrust until you were whimpering, your nails leaving crescent marks in his shoulders. “I want to feel you come around me, but I need to watch you fall apart first.”

He shifted slightly, angling his hips in a way that had you crying out his name as he hit the spot inside you that sent sparks shooting through your body. Your legs were trembling now, barely hanging on, but he didn’t let you fall. His hands tightened on your hips, holding you steady as he drove into you again and again.

“Jensen—” you moaned, your voice breaking as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside you.

“Come on, baby,” he urged, his voice rough with need. “Let me feel you.”

The pleasure was too much, too intense, and when he reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, fast circles, you shattered. Your body convulsed, pleasure surging through you in waves as you cried out his name.

He didn’t stop, didn’t give you a moment to recover. His thrusts grew harder, faster, driving you through the peak of your orgasm and into another. You could feel him trembling too, his control slipping as he chased his own release.

“Fuck,” he growled, his voice strained.

You clenched around him intentionally this time, wanting to feel him lose himself too. With a groan that was almost a roar, he came, his hips jerking erratically as he spilled himself inside you. His hands moved to the wall behind you, bracing himself as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Your breaths were ragged, matching each other’s as the water continued to pour down around you. Then he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was surprisingly gentle compared to the intensity of what had just happened.

“Shit,” he murmured when he finally pulled back. “You’re fucking perfect.”

You smiled faintly, your body still buzzing with the aftershocks of pleasure. But before you could respond, his hands were moving again, sliding down your body with purpose.

“But I’m not done with you yet,” he said.

You wake to warmth—not just the heavy heat of morning sun slanting through the blinds, but the quieter, steadier kind that sinks under your skin. It’s him. Jensen. Curled beside you in a lazy sprawl, his chest rising and falling in that deep, slow rhythm you’ve come to know by heart.

The sheets are a tangled mess around you both, clinging to sweat-slicked skin and knotted legs. One of his arms is slung over your waist, possessive even in sleep, the other tucked under his head, jaw slack, mouth parted slightly.

He’s all soft lines right now—none of the usual sharpness in his grin or the teasing spark in his eyes. Just the man you love, stripped down to his most vulnerable, bare and beautiful in the pale morning light. And for a moment, you don’t move.

You just breathe him in—the scent of skin, sleep, and something that still feels a little new. Eight months in, and waking up like this still feels like something you dreamed up. But his hand flexes on your hip, and you know it’s real. It felt like forever.

The clock on the nightstand beside you read nine in the morning. Jensen had the day off before going in to a night shoot for a few hours.

Usually he’d sleep most of the day. And you had plans with the girls.

But you didn’t want to leave that bed. Not yet. Not ever if given the chance.

And then your phone starts buzzing on the nightstand, persistent and rude, like it has some personal grudge against your happiness. Against your peace. Against him.

You sigh, not loud enough to wake him, rolling over and burying your face in the crook of his neck instead, willing the world to wait just a little longer.

Until he chuckled.

You didn’t even catch the cute gasp he usually does when he wakes up.

“If you don’t answer that I have a feeling there’s going to be three very curious women one of which is very hormonal standing in our doorway within the hour.”

“Can’t I just play sick? We never get to just hide.” You signed laying back whining.

His laugh cut through the silence, before you felt his hand on your waist.

“We don’t get the kids back until three right?”

“That’s what Misha said. Something about the zoo?” You looked over at him, his eyes still glassy with sleep. But the smile that laid there, like he was watching the most precious thing in the world in your place.

That touched your soul.

Then your phone buzzed again.

“Give me the phone.” He chuckled. You didn’t move at first until his hand moved.

“What?” He answered, leaning over you now.

“Right right right. Because I’m not allowed a day off right? Don’t get hormonal on me missy I was asleep. Well you just had to wake me up didn’t you? You want me to lie to you or you want the truth—Technically she’s under me.” He said in to the phone knowing it was Bonnie just by the way he spoke.

“Jensen!” You called covering your face in your hands.

“Mm. Fun’s over for you B. You hit a home run and in a few months you get your trophy. We’re still warming up for the World Series here.” He grinned in to the phone.

“The more you talk the worse it gets shut up.” You felt your face turning red. You weren't even doing anything.

“No, I didn't compare the baby to a sport. I compared you and Jeff to one. The baby is the participation trophy.”

“Jensen!” You yelled then. His laughter only grew then. But quickly stopped.

“That’s gross. No, I don't want to picture my best friend like that. No! I swear, if you send that to me. Bonnie, Dont. You. Dare. Do you know how many times I’ve been drunk and passed out only to wake up to naked Jared because that’s how he sleeps? Even fucking drunk Bonnie. No I don’t need to add Jeff to the list of guys I’ve seen naked. Thank you. I’m leaning over her for fucks sake. You called her phone. On her side of the bed. How else was I supposed to get it? Yeah, that truth would have been a whole lot darker B.”

“Can I get up now?” You laughed pushing on Jensens chest. “My whole morning ruined because you two crazy people decided to get on the phone with each other."

"At least we get along. I ended up hating Hillarie and meant every rude comment I made.”

“That’s very reassuring, Jensen. Now, let me get up.” You groaned pushing him again.

“Bonnie says not until you pick a restaurant.” he grinned, pinning your hand above your head.

“Anywhere cameras aren't, how about that? Better yet? Her choice.” Your wrist was still pinned above your head, but the rest of you was free. And you knew how to use that freedom. So you tilted your hips up, a languid roll, innocent in theory, devastating in execution.

Jensen stuttered over something Bonnie had just said.

"Yeah, uh-no, hang on," he muttered into the phone, voice suddenly strained. His gaze dropped to your mouth, then lower. "You're gonna have to-Bonnie, I gotta call you back."

Whatever Bonnie said on the other end, he didn't respond. He just pulled the phone away, thumbed the screen, and tossed it blindly across the bed.

Then he looked at you.

Really looked.

Not just sleepy Jensen, not even teasing Jensen— this was the version of him that came out when you knew exactly what strings to pull. His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, grounding himself.

"You trying to get me in trouble?" he asked, voice rough now, like it had been dragged over gravel and wrapped in velvet.

You gave the smallest shrug, eyes wide, lips parted just enough to make it hard for him to focus.

"Trouble? No..." You let the word trail off as you shifted again beneath him-slow and sinuous, just enough friction to make him feel the softness of skin on skin, the drag of breath between you.

"I'd say I'm trying to remind you what's waiting for you... if you hang up the damn phone."

He swore under his breath, low and reverent, the sound catching in his throat like it hurt. His fingers twitched against his hip. “Sweetheart, there's not a thing in this world that would make me forget.” he grinned.

You were late to the restaurant. Of course you were. Bonnie Ivy and Bridgette were staring at you arms folded the second they saw Jensen beside you.

“Just because he has long hair doesn’t mean he’s a lady.” Bonnie snipped, making you snort a little.

“And just because you look human doesn’t mean you aren’t a demon in disguise.” Jensen grinned, pulling up two chairs and pulling yours out.

Bonnie was definitely glowing, but not in the “pregnancy glow” kind of way. More like the ‘I’m five weeks pregnant, sick every five seconds, and will take everyone down with me’ kind of glow. Her sharp eyes narrowed at you across the table, and you could already feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Why did you grab a second chair?,” she said, eyebrows raised and one hand resting on a butter knife.

“We’ve only been here twenty minutes.” Ivy laughed.

You blinked. “It’s 12:03, Bonnie.” Dragging the cutlery from her.

“She wanted to eat at 11:45,” Bridgette whispered across the table, eyes wide in solidarity.

“Why? a second? chair? Jensen?” Bonnie asked again. This time leaning over the table a little glaring at him like he hit her new car on purpose and laughed about it.

Jensen, sitting next to you leaned back, arms folded across his chest, leaned over and dropped a dramatic whisper just loud enough for everyone to hear. “She’s even more terrifying like this.” While glancing at Bonnie.

You stifled a laugh looking at Bridgette and Ivy who had no clue about Bonnie’s pregnancy yet, choosing to sit across from them, leaving Jensen to take the hit and sit across from Bonnie. Brave man.

“Terrifying? You really think you’re clever, don’t you, Ackles? Newsflash: You’re not. You’re just annoying. And every time you open your mouth, I lose a little more faith in humanity. Do you wake up and choose to be this way?.”

Jensen gave her that crooked half-smile he always did when someone took him too seriously. He leaned back in the chair, loose and casual in a black Henley that somehow made him look both cozy and like he could chop firewood in the same breath. His hair was pushed back, a few strands falling loose by his temple, and his green eyes sparkled with amused danger.

“Nah B,” he said with a purposeful smile. “I’m naturally this annoying, it’s one of my best qualities.”

“That tracks,” you muttered under your breath.

He shot you a wink.

“No,” Bonnie snapped, her voice low and cutting. “Your ‘best quality” is an absolute nightmare. You’re a walking headache. You act like you’re a gift to the world, but honestly? You’re just the worst part of this room.”

“Okay!” You said sitting straighter looking at Bonnie then Jensen.

But he didn’t let up. Not even a little.

“And yet, eight months ago you were sending videos of me in yall’s group chat about how hot I am. And who knows what else.” He shook his head with a knowing grin.

Bonnie groaned and dropped her menu flat on the table. “God, why are you like this? This is me telling Bridgette and Ivy I’m pregnant, not open mic night at the Ha-Ha Barn. Reliving what got us all here in the first placed.”

“I’m supporting your journey, being the big brother you never had.” Jensen said, placing a hand over his heart. “Also, I really hope that wasn’t how you originally planned to tell them.”

You were frozen, and Bonnie looked at the girls in horror. Both wide eyed and mouths falling open.

“I can’t stand you right now,” she shot back, but her lips twitched just slightly, betraying a reluctant smile.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Honestly, Bonnie being pregnant might be the scariest thing to happen to your friend group. And you’d faced a lot together.

As the waitress came over to take orders, Bonnie waved her off. “I need five more minutes. That hairy lady is distracting me,” she said, motioning vaguely to Jensen, “and apparently I only want waffles and rage right now.”

You leaned toward Jensen, voice low. “You’re playing with fire.”

He grinned without looking at you. “Nah,” he said. “I was married to Danneel and been around Jared Padalecki at 4 a.m. This is nothing.”

He had a point.

The table fell silent for a long beat. Jensen finally giving Bonnie a break from his antics. And then Ivy and Bridgette caught up.

Ivy was the first to speak, but her voice was soft, hesitant, as if she was still trying to wrap her mind around what she had just heard. “Wait, so… you’re… pregnant?”

Bonnie shot her a quick, almost defensive look, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath the fire. She nodded sharply, her lips pressed together tightly as if bracing for the next wave.

Ivy blinked, and then her eyes softened, the initial shock fading into something warmer. “You’re really pregnant?” she asked again, her hands suddenly clasping together in excitement. “You and Jeff are having a baby?”

Bonnie’s eyes softened, still on edge. “Yeah, five weeks in. You’ve been around enough pregnant women to know that’s not exactly the fun part.”

Bridgette��s reaction was much less restrained. She blinked, then her face lit up like she’d just been given the world’s best gift. Her mouth fell open in disbelief, her eyes sparkling. “Wait, really? Like this isn’t Bonnie’s bullshit hour? You’re dead serious?”

Bonnie sighed, half exasperated, half amused, as she slouched in her chair. “I was trying to drop the news without turning it into a circus, but here we are.” Her head rolled to eyeball Jensen who laughed to himself.

“Glad I could help the nerves Bon.”

“Aren’t you two the ones with baby plans, and trying?” Bridgette looked at you and Jensen a moment.

“Eventually. We’re not passed talking about it yet.” You answered, biting your lip, Jensens hand rested on your thigh.

Bridgette now, practically bouncing in her seat. “Oh my God, Bonnie, this is amazing! You’re gonna have the cutest little bundle of joy! I’m going to spoil that kid so much it won’t even know what hit it. A tiny little Jeff and Bonnie.” Her hands flew to her cheeks as if she could barely contain her excitement.

Bonnie beamed with joy then. “Jeff already ordered a onesie. Saw it on Amazon or something I don’t even know. It’s black with negans silhouette and it says “You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry... Hell, you're all gonna be doing that.”

Jensen smiled. So did you, glad he was coming around to the idea of a new baby.

Ivy’s attention shifted to Bonnie completely now, her face glowing with joy. “Whatever you need, I am so there for you,” she said, her voice full of purpose. “I’ll move to Texas if I have to, I’ll help with everything—labor, delivery, you name it. This baby is going to be in the best hands.”

Bonnie’s eyes softened for the first time all morning, and she almost looked… touched. The edge in her voice melted just a little as she replied, “I’m definitely going to need it. Stella’s already gonna have her hands full with me.” She giggled looking at you.

“Pregnant or not I’m always right by you B. Even if you want to kill my boyfriend every time you talk to him.” You smiled.

“Every fucking time.” She groaned, making Jensen laugh then.

“Well, well, well…” You heard the familiar voice, and turned just a little. Jeff stood tall behind you and Jensen, eyes locked on Bonnie. “Hey there, gorgeous.”

His hands landed on Jensen’s shoulders with a playful clap. “And I ain’t talking about you this time, big boy.”

Jensen’s laugh was light, easy. “I was starting to wonder if you’d left me alone with these four. Thought I might get lost in the baby talk.”

Jeff pulled an empty chair next to Bonnie, sitting down with a relaxed grin, then kissed her temple softly. “Meeting ran long, but I’m here now.” His eyes softened as he turned his full attention to Bonnie. “How you feeling?”

Bonnie’s face lit up at the sight of him, and the tension from earlier seemed to slip away. “Better now that you’re here,” she murmured.

You glanced over to Jensen, your voice playful as you waved your hands. “If that’s not you when you knock me up, I’m calling it.”

Jensen shot you a soft grin, his voice quieter now, just for you. “Sweetheart, I’ll be carrying you everywhere. I won’t let you go long enough to get to that point. Especially with what we’re facing.”

You smiled back at him, warm and knowing, the playful edge gone from your tone. “You have a job, remember?” you teased, but there was no edge to it—just affection. “But, I wouldn’t mind having you all to myself that long.”

Jensen’s hand slid gently to your thigh, a tender touch that felt like he was grounding both of you in the moment. His voice lowered, barely above a whisper, as he leaned in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. “I think I could manage. I’ll be right there beside you, every step of the way. Whatever it takes. We’re getting our chance, you are getting it.”

Your breath caught for a second, and you turned toward him, eyes soft as your heart gave a little skip.

“I mean that. We will figure it out, I’m not missing a second.” He whispered. And you let it land.

That’s one thing you’d been talking about at night. His schedule, you balancing three kids, school schedules, pregnancy, your salon.

You’d admit it scared you, being alone for the majority of a pregnancy that wasn’t here yet, that you didn’t know if it would happen. He hadn’t been sure what he’d do, between contracts and kids. You couldn’t be in two places at once. Neither could he.

But there were other matters on the table. An appointment written on your calendar for the coming week one you were terrified of.

Jensen knew it. He’d been right next to you when you scheduled it. You knew, from the second he mentioned wanting a baby. You knew the fear you’d have.

Because the truth was, you didn’t know if you could have kids. As much as you wanted them, you always knew you wanted kids, but you never thought Jensen would utter those words.

Now it was real, now it meant you had to face reality.

You’d been told years ago, you were 20 years old to be exact, it would be hard.

“Your cycle is irregular because you have polycystic ovarian syndrome.”

The words landed like glass shattering on tile — sharp, sudden, impossible to ignore. Dr. Mackey sat across from you in her white coat, her voice calm, clinical. The office was too bright, the kind of sterile white that made everything feel unreal, like you were inside a snow globe under a harsh spotlight. You blinked, unsure if you’d heard her right.

“What does that mean?” you asked, the words catching on your tongue like thorns.She exhaled softly, folding her hands in her lap.

“Well, there are many things associated with PCOS. But one being… it can be extremely difficult to conceive. If ever. Miscarriage is also, unfortunately, more common.”

Your blood turned to ice. It felt like gravity shifted — everything in your chest dropped, and your stomach clenched like a fist. Tears stung your eyes before you could stop them, your throat tightening as if it might close completely.

You hadn’t come here to talk about children. You’d come because you’d been bleeding for nearly a month straight, because you were tired and dizzy and scared. You didn’t expect this. You weren’t ready for this.

“You also have signs of endometriosis,” Dr. Mackey continued gently. Her voice was softer now, like she was speaking through water. “Which adds to the lower chance. Now, I’m not saying it’s impossible, Stella, but it may not be simple.”

A choked breath escaped you — half sob, half protest. Your hands were trembling in your lap. “I just came in because I’ve never had a period this long,” you whispered, voice cracking. “Not to be told I can’t have kids.”

You broke then. The tears that had welled up finally fell, hot streaks down your cheeks. You didn’t even bother to wipe them away. Shame, grief, confusion — all of it surged through you in a tide you couldn’t swim against.

Dr. Mackey reached out, her hand warm and steady as it rested on your knee. “This is why you’re experiencing it, honey,” she said softly, her eyes kind but heavy. “Believe me, I don’t want to be here telling you this. But you need to know. You need to understand the risks, the reality. You deserve to have every chance — but it may not look like you expect it to.”

The word deserve echoed somewhere inside you, cutting deep.

“And you need to let that land, honey,” she said again, quieter this time.

You nodded, though it felt like your body was moving without you. Like you were floating somewhere just above the chair, watching this awful moment play out from a distance.

“What can I do?” you managed. “Can I do anything to change it?”

“There are options. IUI, IVF — they can be successful. We’d need to run more tests, track your ovulation, your hormones, everything. When you’re ready to try, we’ll see what path might work best for you. But no,” she added with a gentle finality. “There’s no cure for PCOS. We can only manage it. I want to change your birth control, see how your body responds. Then we’ll have a clearer picture of what we’re working with in the future.”

You sat there, tears cooling on your face, heart breaking in real time. The dreams you’d quietly carried — of babies with your eyes, of lullabies in a dark nursery — felt suddenly so fragile, like paper dolls in the rain.And all you could do was nod again, because right now, it was all too much to hold.

Two days after Jensen told you he wanted a baby, you stood in the kitchen, the kids at school, your mind racing, heart breaking. He looked at you like he was worried. You knew he was. That night it’d been magic, and rainbows. Then the truth set deep in your bones. He needed to know. He deserved to. To know the facts, the potential heartache. You reached over and took his hand, threading your fingers through his. Your voice was steady, but your chest ached with the pressure of everything you were about to say.

“I want a baby,” you whispered. “More than anything.”His thumb brushed yours, hopeful.

“But I need to tell you something before we go any further. Something I should’ve told you a long time ago, but… I think I was afraid that saying it out loud would make it more real.”

Jensen leaned in slightly, his expression softening. “Whatever it is, I’m here.” you looked down at your tangled hands, watched them twist together like vines. Your throat tightened, but you forced the words forward.

“When I was twenty, I was diagnosed with PCOS. Polycystic ovarian syndrome. It’s… a hormonal disorder, but it affects a lot more than just hormones. Irregular cycles, weight struggles, insulin resistance… but the worst part for me was when the doctor said I might never have children.”

Jensen’s grip on your hand didn’t change. If anything, it steadied you.

“They also found out that I have Mild endometriosis. Which makes it even harder. She told me then that my chances were low, and if I could get pregnant, it might be through treatments like IVF or IUI. Nothing guaranteed. No simple path. Just… complications. Loss, maybe.” you paused, the memory sitting in your chest like a stone.

“And I never forgot how that felt. That day changed everything. I stopped imagining nurseries. I stopped walking down the baby aisles in stores. I didn’t let myself get attached to the idea — because I didn’t want to break every time it didn’t happen.”

Jensen’s hand tightened in yours, and when you looked up, his eyes were full. Not pity. Not shock.

Just love.

“I want it with you,” you said, her voice breaking. “I still want it. But you deserve to know what you’re walking into. I can’t promise anything. It might be hard. It might take time. It might not happen at all. And I just… I can’t go into this if you’re hoping for something easy. I’ve carried this weight for a long time. But I won’t burden you with it on false hope.”

He was quiet for a long moment. Not because he didn’t know what to say — but because he was really hearing you.

Then he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it gently.“I don’t want easy, sweetheart. I want you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but this time they didn’t sting. This time, they felt like release.“If this is our mountain,” he continued, “then we’ll climb it together. One step at a time. I’m in. No matter what it looks like. No matter how long it takes. I want to see you have everything you deserve, I want another baby, but you deserve it. You were born for it baby.”

you leaned into him, burying your face into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you like he’d never let go.

You felt the tear slip, fear creeping up inside you, the silent war you faced when it got quiet. You were excited, proud, overjoyed, and how ever else you could express how you felt for Bonnie being pregnant.

But, it didn’t take the fear away, the feeling you were setting yourself up for failure, that you’d break Jensen's heart in the midst of it.

Jensen was talking to Jeff and Bonnie. His hand still on your thigh, steady, grounding, you swiped the tear away, trying to hide it as best you could, but you weren't fast enough, Ivy caught it, her eyes landed on you, and a soft whisper.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” She asked.

You shook your head. Pushing your chair back a little before standing and turning quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

You walked towards the door, you needed air, you needed a distraction. Because it wasn’t fair, not to Bonnie. You were here for her. You would always be here for her. Bonnie didn’t know, no one but Jensen knew.

You heard your name being called.

Arms folded around you, fear holding you in a choke hold, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You walked fast pushing the door open soft one hand. The light air hitting you.

You didn’t know where to go, deciding to lean against the side of the building. But not before you felt an arm steady, and stable catch you mid step, wrapping you in to his chest.

No hesitation, no questions, just present, grounding, that’s when you broke.

“I got you. It’s alright sweetheart, I’m right here.” Jensen's voice was soft, the kind of comfort that made you know he knew without you saying a word.

Jensen knew the second Stella stood up, he saw it in her eyes. The tension in her shoulders.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t see it coming. He slowly watched her anxiety climb the closer that appointment got. When she told him Bonnie was pregnant, she didn’t let it show. But he saw it.

They didn’t know, no one did. Just her and a mental weight that drug her down for years. He’d decided the moment she told him. There was nothing keeping him from giving her a baby, no wasn’t an option. He didn’t care what it took. He was going to see her pregnant, he was going to see her have a baby. His baby. No matter the cost.

She deserved it, she deserved the world. And the way she curled in to him, fists against his chest, head buried in his shoulder, the way her own shook with emotion.

He felt the emotion creep up in him. She was so good at hiding it. He knew that a long time ago. So used to facing the world alone, being there for everyone thinking no one would be there for her.

Scared of looking weak to others. So she masked it, with witty remarks, and a protective instinct to the people she cared about that could become lethal if she was pushed too far.

Even if they didn't know the storms she faced in her mind.

“Stella? Oh my gosh Stel what happened?” He heard Bonnie then. Looking over Bridgette and Ivy stood next to her. Jeff behind her.

“She’s alright. I’ve got her.” Jensen voice came out softer than he intended. More broken.

“I know you do, but she’s my—our best friend. She storms out we’re following. No questions asked Jens. You know that.”

“I do. She does too. Just—she has a lot on her right now. Things she—we are facing. But we’re good. We’re gonna be alright, just gotta climb a couple mountains. She’ll talk about it when she’s ready. It’s not mine to share.” He trailed. Speaking more to you than anyone else.

You didn’t want to ruin Bonnie’s day. You wouldn’t. But you couldn’t stop crying. You just wanted to be happy for her. And not be happy sheiks your mind and heart were at war. Thankful for waterproof mascara. And Jensen's black shirt.

You didn’t know what you did to deserve him, standing steady while you stood wobbly. Giving you a place to land.

“Jensen. As much as I usually respect that shit. And I do believe me. She deserves to be treated the way you treat her. I can’t just walk back inside knowing she’s out here crying and I don’t know why. Not being disrespectful but her crying doesn’t set well with me. Never has.”

“I’m not ruining your day Bonnie. Just let it go, and go back inside. I’m alright.” Your voice shook, you never moved from Jensens arms.

“Tell me that with out crying and I’ll consider it.”

“Bonnie.” Jensen said softly. “Now isn’t the time. She’s protecting you. She’s doing her best not to implode with everything going on..”

“Protect me from what? Is it about me?”

“No. It’s about her. But she knows you. She knows how you won’t see it through her eyes.”

Jensen's arms tightened around you. His chin on your head now.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. This is why we don’t dive deep into my past okay.” Your voice was hoarse. Barely audible against his chest.

“Stel, this is exactly why we want to. Just like Oklahoma. We would have all been there for you but you were more worried about burdening us. You aren’t a fucking burden. You never have been. So stop thinking you are. We’re all here, we love you, we aren’t the people that raised you, we're the ones that chose you.” Bonnie’s voice was strained. Making you pull back from Jensens chest.

She was on the verge of tears. You could see it. Bonnie wasn’t emotional, not like this. Not when eyes were around.

Yet here she was. Walking towards you now.

“Let me in. Trust me. Like you trust Jensen. Please” she almost whispered.

“Stella, we don’t usually push…” Ivy said softly.

“But, we can’t be here for you if you don’t talk to us. Whatever it is. You’ve heard all of our stories. Your like the hardest onion to peel back.”

“And I swear if you don’t talk I’ll hit you. Im not even kidding anymore. I’m tired of watching you suffer alone. Jensens going to be working. When you go home. If you’re struggling then guess what. I live close enough. I’ll sleep on your fucking couch if that’s what you need. No I won’t. I’m taking Jensens spot. Best friends dammit. Come hell or high water I’m going through hell with you whether you like it or not. And I’m too hormonal for this shit.”

“Bonnie, I—I can’t ruin today for you. Okay? All of this was about you. Not me.”

“Listen to the words coming out of my mouth. I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck. Tell me what’s wrong. Tell us. Or we’re going to stand here until you do.” You knew better than to go toe to toe with Bonnie, especially now.

But the last thing you wanted was to take this moment from her. You didn’t let go of Jensen. You only shifted. Your hand rested on his bicep as he held you to him.

“Fine. But before I say a fucking thing, you need to hear me when I say Ive never been happier for anyone in my entire life than I am for you right now. And this all happened before you told me you were pregnant.” You sighed. Looking at the fabric of Jensens shirt. Before looking back at the girls. And Jeff. Still standing silent. You sniffled slightly, Jensen holding you tighter.

“I have an appointment next week, to see if Jensen and I can even have a baby, because when I was 20 I was told it may not ever happen. And I came to terms with that. And then Jensen happened. And I never had the tests or anything done. I have endometriosis, and polycystic ovarian syndrome, that makes conceiving really hard. And miscarriages likely.” Jensen's lips pressed against your temple then. Your hand wrapping around his side to his back holding on to him tighter.

“I didn’t think about it until I made a joke to Jay earlier. And it just hit me all at once. Before it was telling him, thinking it would die there and when it didn’t—I don’t know it’s been a lot. I’m facing a what if I never thought I’d have to. And I have a pretty amazing man willing to fight me on giving up.” You half smiled up at Jensen as his thumb brushed a stray tear from your eye.

“You deserve the chance to be a mother. Not just a bonus mom. And I’ve never wanted anything more than I do having this with you. Whatever it takes. I’m not backing out of it. Neither are you.” He said softly.

Bonnie was staring at you like a statue. Arms folded, chewing on her lip like if she stopped she’d deflate.

“Bonnie.” You said softly.

She didn’t respond. She didn’t blink. You weren't sure she was even breathing.

Ivy and Bridgette hugged you. For a long moment but you never took your eye off her hugging them back.

“So, that explains why you two We’re so adamant about Bonnie’s wishes. And me stepping up.” Jeff said softly. Nodding then shaking his head. “You guys are fighting a dream that could end in heartache.” His hands on Bonnie’s shoulders.

She looked at you then. Tears falling.

“You aren’t the only one who’s faced that fear stel, and I hate you for making me admit this.” Sighing she shook her head.

No she didn’t hate you. You knew better.

“When Josh and I were together… we were trying... And I couldn’t get pregnant.”

Bonnie’s voice broke, and her eyes glossed over. The group was silent, the weight of her words sinking fast.

“We did everything. Saw three doctors. Nothing was wrong, not with him. Just… me. I don’t know why. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it. Her hands were trembling.

“I didn’t think it would ever happen either. And I know what that kind of heartbreak feels like — waking up every day wondering why your body can’t do the one thing it’s meant to. And you don’t understand.”

You stared at her, stunned. Everyone did.

She met your eyes, fierce and soft all at once.

“So whatever fear you’re carrying, Stella… it’s real. And you don’t owe anyone strength every second of the day. But don’t you ever think I’d be mad at you for feeling it no matter when it hits.”

Her voice cracked again.

“You’re not taking anything away from me. And I will be right there when that test turns positive — screaming, crying, fighting Jensen to be there if I have to — because if you’re going through this…”

She stepped towards you, eyes burning.

“You’re not going through it without me.”

And You didn’t.

A week later you were home, packing the kids lunches. For the following day for school, Jensen was working, and Bonnie, Ivy, and Bridgette? Sat across from you, at your island, they all came to Austin. For you.

“We won't be in the procedure room with you. Obviously, But we will be in the waiting room the whole time. Jensen will have his phone with him, right? Who’s picking up the kids?” Ivy asked.

“Gen is. And Donna will be here after we get back. At least that's what Jensen said. Which makes zero sense but ya know. Whatever he says.” you shrugged.

You were scared. There was no doubt about it. The only surgery you'd ever had was getting your tonsils out. Four days ago they'd done all of the normal testing. Which wasn't a big deal, blood work, sonogram, a physical examination.

Hurt for a day and you were back to normal. They called two days ago. You were at the salon, with a client at the time, you weren't expecting your doctor to tell you they needed to do a laparoscopic procedure.

“It's just to further check everything.” Dr Mackey said.

But something was gnawing at you over it. When you told Jensen, he was confused. Just like you had been. But you both agreed.

Ivy said it's normal, a lot of women undergo the same thing, especially at your age. When trying for a baby with fertility problems.

“Hey, get out of your head, we're gonna be right there, and when you're done we will watch movies, and junk out on whatever you want.” Bridgette smiled.

She'd been the one keeping you upbeat. Bonnie was still in Los Angeles when they called, Ivy was back home, and Bridgette was working. You didn't expect them to walk in earlier.

Luggage, snacks, and Bonnies head strong “I call Jensen's side of the bed.” attitude.

She wasn't getting it. His side was yours when he was gone. End of story. That, and your side was closest to the bathroom. You'd made that known and while she didn't care, she wasn't winning the fight.

“You have every right to be nervous Stel, but it's gonna be worth it. And Jensen will be home this weekend. But until then you have us.” Ivys hand rested on your shoulder and you gave a tight smile and nod.

“Look, I'm just saying, maybe they didn't see anything that's why they're doing this, maybe you're 100% ready to—

“Bonnie.” you deadpan, folding your arms.

“I know. I know. I'm just trying to soften your mood. You're wound up.”

“I'm scared B, but ill be fine, and like Ivy said I have y'all, and Jensen Will be here this weekend. And maybe we will get good news before being discharged tomorrow. Either way. I'll be alright. I just…i need to let it settle first ya know? Come to terms with all possible outcomes.”

“Your phones ringing.” She shook her head. Hormonally tired of your shit already, you looked down seeing Jensens name. Like he knew you were emotionally breaking down.

Jensen was packing. You didn’t know.

The day you got the call about the procedure, he’d gone straight to Haas. Told them he needed some time — personal, unexpected. He didn’t ask questions.

Just nodded.

He was grateful for that.

It was nearly midnight when he got back to the rent house in Los Angeles, the set lights still in his eyes, exhaustion clinging to his skin. He didn’t stop to shower or eat — just dropped his bag on the bed and started grabbing what he needed.

A few clothes. A charger. His shoes.

He moved quietly, deliberately. This wasn’t a planned trip. He hadn’t even booked it until he was halfway through the last scene. But something about the way your voice had cracked over the phone — the way you’d tried to sound okay — told him he couldn’t stay away.

He wasn’t going to call.

He wanted to surprise you. Wanted to be there when you woke up, bleary-eyed and confused, then suddenly smiling in that way that made his chest ache. He imagined unlocking the front door just after sunrise, setting his bag down, and crawling into bed beside you like he’d never left.

But somewhere between checking into his flight and shoving a toothbrush into the side pocket of his backpack, he remembered his keys were at home. In Austin. On the counter, right where you told him not to leave them.

And someone needed to unlock the door when he landed — in four hours.

So now, with his boarding pass pulled up on his phone and his heart somewhere between here and Texas, Jensen did the one thing he hadn’t planned on doing.

He called you.

Stella stepped out of the room as her phone buzzed, pressing it to her ear as the door clicked softly behind her.

Back in the kitchen, Bonnie tapped her nails against the counter — a quiet rhythm of nerves she couldn’t shake. Bridgette sat on a stool, flipping absently through a script, but her eyes weren’t really on the page.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Ivy said gently, sipping her wine. Her voice was calm, grounded — the kind that made people believe her even when they didn’t believe themselves.

Bonnie glanced toward the living room, watching Stella through the window. She was talking with her hands, a soft laugh breaking through now and then.

“I know,” Bonnie murmured. “I just… I wish none of this was happening. She’s been through enough.”

“She has,” Ivy agreed. “But when that baby is in her arms — and Jensen’s standing right there beside her — it’ll be worth it. Just like when Jeff will be beside you holding yours for the first time.”

Bonnie’s expression cracked, a soft, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Just then, Stella walked back in, setting a big bowl down on the counter with a grin.

“Not in the bowl, babe,” she said, laughing softly to herself. “Try again. Nope — I just washed those. Ugh, hang on.”

She headed out the back door, barefoot, muttering to herself. A beat passed. Then:

“Why are your keys on the grill?” she called out, holding them up with an incredulous laugh.

Inside, Bridgette raised an eyebrow. “Okay, what is going on?”

“Who knows?” Bonnie said, chuckling. “Jensen’s always losing stuff.”

Stella came back in, shoulders tense now as she leaned against the counter. She wasn’t laughing anymore. The phone was still pressed to her ear, but her eyes were distant, listening. Her fingers traced slow circles into the wood grain beneath her.

“So why’d you need me to find them?” she asked finally, brow furrowed. “I’m not putting them in the truck. If Jared needs them, I’ll give them to him when he gets here. Because, Jensen, the gate’s still broken, remember?”

A pause.

“What? No. Jay, he can take my car. I’ll drive the truck. Ivy—? Why do you need to talk to Ivy?”

Without missing a beat, Ivy reached across the counter and took the phone, calm as ever. “Talk to me,” she said, not needing an explanation.

She listened for a moment, nodded once, then smiled softly. “You got it. Mhmm.”

Then she passed the phone back.

Stella stared at her, confused. “Okay,Mmhmm. I love you too.” laying the phone down. She looked at Ivy. “What was that?”

Ivy just shrugged, a twinkle in her eye. “Who knows Jensen's losing it. I’m gonna head to bed. Night.” She jogged off.

You, Bonnie, and Bridgette watched her leave. Your mind clicking suddenly. “That son of a bitch.” You stood straight. Scoffing a laugh.

“What?” The girls asked.

“Donna isn’t coming tomorrow. He is. That’s what all the noise was behind him. He’s at the fucking airport. I told him I was fine.”

“And maybe he’s showing you, you won’t be alone Stel.” You heard behind you. Turning to see Ivy leaning in the doorway. “Jensen isn’t coming home because he thinks you won’t be alright. He’s coming home because he promised you he would be right here next to you through it all. He’s proving that.”

You didn’t sleep.

How could you?

Bonnie had taken the guest room with Ivy. Bridgette was curled up in the office, script pages scattered around her like fallen leaves.

And you…

You sat alone in the living room, knees pulled to your chest, wrapped in the softest blanket you could find — though nothing felt warm enough.

You’d left the front door unlocked, just like Jensen had asked Ivy to.

It felt strange, doing that. Like an invitation you couldn’t take back. Hoping the only person that tried to come inside was Jensen.

At some point, the clock whispered 5:07 AM. You weren’t even sure how long you’d been sitting there when it happened.

You didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t hear it close.

You only felt him —

His hand, warm and steady, gently resting on your shoulder.

You turned, breath catching in your throat, and found him standing behind the couch — eyes tired, but soft. Safe.

“Why are you still awake, baby?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He came around the couch as you sat up, blanket falling to your lap. You didn’t answer right away. You just watched him as he sank beside you, pulling you gently into his arms, and kissed the top of your head like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

You exhaled slowly, letting your head rest against his chest.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you murmured. “Kinda put the pieces together… and then the nerves got the best of me.”

“I knew you would.” His voice rumbled low, a comfort in the dark. “And that’s exactly why I’m here.”

He held you a little tighter.

“Whatever happens tomorrow… I’ll be right there. Every second. You won’t do a single part of this without me.”

Your throat tightened, tears threatening, but you blinked them back, tucking your face into his shirt.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whispered.

He pulled back just enough to tip your chin up with his fingers, eyes locked on yours.

“I do,” he said simply. “You survived it. All of it. And you never stopped loving.”

And somehow, in that moment — with the fear still in your chest and tomorrow still looming —

you finally felt like you could breathe.

The doctor was sitting in front of you and Jensen, clipboard in hand, the hospital was dim, cold, definitely not helping your fear. his hand rested on your thigh like an anchor. Already in the gown they handed you. Grippy socks, and your hair tied back.

You’d already cried twice. The surgery hadn’t even happened yet.

“In the event we find anything. You want us to come to Jensen?” She asked. You nodded.

His hand flexed looking at you. “You’re sure?”

“Don’t let me die.” You broke a small smile. Making him nod.

“I won’t.” He kissed your forehead letting it linger.

You’d been back there for over an hour.

The girls were scattered across the hospital room — Ivy perched on the edge of the chair, arms folded; Bonnie lying back with her eyes closed, whispering silent prayers; Bridgette flipping through her phone, not reading a word of it.

And Jensen?

He paced.

Back and forth across the floor, the heels of his boots making his movements known. His phone lay untouched on the bed, buzzing occasionally with texts he didn’t read.

Ivy had said it was normal. That it always took longer than expected. But no one had said much in twenty minutes.

When the door finally opened, the sound sliced through the room like a blade.

Jensen stopped mid-step. Froze. His heart in his throat. Not because he didn’t think she was okay, he was worried they’d find something and he’d had to make the decision for her.

He didn’t want to make the wrong one.

Dr. Mackey stepped in. Calm. Professional. But her eyes went straight to him.

“Can I speak with you a moment?”

That was all it took.

His blood went cold.

He nodded, followed her out, closing the door quietly behind him. His hands trembled at his sides, but he curled them into fists and said nothing.

“She’s fine,” Dr. Mackey began gently, and Jensen exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years.

“But,” she continued, and that single word dug right back into his chest, “it’s been fifteen years since her endometriosis was evaluated. It’s grown. A lot.”

His stomach dropped.

“What does that mean?” he asked, voice tight.

“It means we’re already in the procedure. I can either leave it and let her make that call later, or I can remove it now. If I do, her chances of conceiving improve significantly.”

Jensen didn’t even blink.

“Remove it. That’s what she would want.”

She nodded, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Okay. I’ll proceed with removal. Other than that, she’s doing really well. Her body’s strong. I think, when the time comes, you two will have a real shot.”

She said it gently. Like she knew what that meant to him.

Like she could see the war happening just behind his eyes — fear clawing against hope.

Jensen nodded slowly, biting the inside of his lip to keep it together.

“Thank you,” he said, barely above a whisper.

She offered him one last reassuring glance before disappearing down the hall.

He didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

He stood there, rooted to the floor, staring at nothing. The weight of the moment pressing heavy on his chest. Relief tangled up with dread. Love stitched to fear. The kind of emotion that left you breathless.

And then—

A hand landed gently on his shoulder.

He turned slightly and found Jared behind him. Eyes soft, no questions in them yet — just concern.

“She alright?” Jared asked.

Jensen nodded too fast, too automatic. “Yeah—yep. Fine. They’re just... they’re having to remove shit. It’s nothing. Just let myself get too stressed.”

Jared didn’t even blink.

“Bullshit,” he said.

Jensen blinked, thrown. “What?”

“Don’t do that,” Jared said, stepping in front of him now. “Don’t throw up the mask. Not with me. You’re not on a stage.”

“I’m not throwing up anything. I said she’s okay.”

“And I said bullshit.” Jared’s voice wasn’t harsh — just real. Unmovable. “You’re standing in a hallway trying not to fall apart, and I’m not gonna let you pretend it’s fine just to save face.”

Jensen opened his mouth, closed it. His jaw flexed, and he looked away.

“She could’ve woken up not even knowing,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Could’ve woken up in pain, confused, scared — and it would’ve been because I didn’t say yes. Because I waited.”

“You didn’t wait,” Jared said. “You said yes. Without blinking. Because you know her. That’s not pressure, man. That’s love.”

Jensen swallowed hard. “What if it wasn’t the right call?”

Jared stepped forward. “It was. And deep down, you know it. You’re just scared. Because for once… this isn’t something you can fight with your fists or fix with a script.”

That hit. Jensen’s eyes closed.

“It’s not just about her pain Jared,” he said, voice cracking now. “It’s about the chance. The shot at a baby. A little of me and her. The life we’ve talked about at 2 a.m. half-asleep with her head on my chest.”

“And you’re allowed to want that,” Jared said quietly. “You’re allowed to want it so bad it guts you.”

Jensen let out a breath that sounded more like a sob. He didn’t wipe his face, didn’t hide the tears when they finally slipped down.

“I’ve never felt this way,” he admitted. “Not even close. It’s like every part of me is in that room with her, and I’m just… stuck out here. Waiting. And I feel guilty because I’ve never felt like this.”

Jared didn’t speak right away.

Then:

“You know what I see?” he asked. “I see the guy I’ve known since I was twenty. The guy who held everyone else up for years. Who kept his pain quiet. Who suffered for years, and called it love. Who didn’t let himself fall in love for real until her. And now you’re finally building something real. Something that matters. With your kids you already have you’re building a life that will shape their future for the better. With a new sibling with a woman who loves you unapologetically.”

Jensen looked at him, barely holding it together.

“And you don’t have to be the strong one right now,” Jared said. “Not with me. I know you too well. Just be the one who shows up for her. And that? You’re already doing. You’re here not in California working like you’re supposed to be.”

Jensen laughed through the tears, shaking his head. “I thought I had my shit together.”

Jared clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning softly. “Yeah, well, no offense — you never did. You just faked it better than most.”

Jensen huffed, rubbing his face. “Thanks, jackass.”

“Anytime.”

They stood in silence for a second, Jensen slowly pulling himself back together.

Then Jared nudged him lightly. “She’s gonna be proud of you. She’s gonna thank you.”

“I hope so,” Jensen said, his voice low.

“No doubt in my mind.”

And Jensen let himself breathe. Really breathe. For the first time in hours.

Because he wasn’t holding this alone anymore.

Jensen looked up as the door creaked open behind them.

Bonnie stepped out first, Ivy and Bridgette close behind her. None of them said anything at first — just scanned Jensen’s face, the way his hands were shoved in his pockets, eyes rimmed red, jaw clenched like he was still holding something back.

“We just came to check on you,” Ivy said softly.

Bonnie didn’t say a word. She stopped right in front of Jensen. No sarcastic jab, no dry remark, no eye-roll — just a beat of silence.

He saw it.

Bonnie was barely holding it together too. They all were.

Then, without warning, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him.

Jensen stiffened, surprised. Of all people, Bonnie was not the hugger. Especially not with him.

They were sarcastic. It was their thing.

But she held on — tight and firm like she meant it — and for once, she didn’t try to make it easier with humor. Because she needed that hug too.

Jensen slowly brought an arm around her, the other still in his pocket like he wasn’t sure what to do with this moment.

Ivy and Bridgette joining the hug then. And finally Jared.

When she finally pulled back, she gave him a look — pointed but soft.

“I’m glad she has you,” Bonnie said quietly. Her voice barely above a whisper, almost like she hated hearing herself say it.

Jensen blinked, thrown. His chest tightened, something raw flashing in his expression.

Bonnie stepped back fast, already shaking her head. “Whatever. Forget I said anything.”

He stared at her, lips twitching, still emotional. “You okay? You’re being… nice.”

“Shut up, Jensen.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Seriously. I take it back.”

Bridgette laughed behind them. Ivy just smiled.

But Jensen wasn’t laughing — not fully. Not yet. He just looked at Bonnie, the tiniest nod passing between them.

Because that wasn’t just support.

That was “I see you. And I have your back too.”

And even if she’d never say it again — he heard her. Loud and clear.

The soft beeping of the monitor was the first thing you heard.

Then the weight in your body — heavy and dull — followed by the distinct ache in your lower abdomen.

You blinked slowly, the ceiling above you coming into view through a fog.

It was quiet. Dim. Cool.

You turned your head slightly, and there he was — sitting beside you, his hand gently wrapped around yours, thumb tracing slow circles along yourknuckles.

“Jensen…”

His head shot up at the sound of your voice. Relief poured through his features as your eyes met.

“Hey, baby.” His voice was quiet, rough around the edges.

Your lips barely curled into a weak smile. “How long…?”

“You’ve been out just over three hours. Everything went fine.” His voice stayed soft, steady — but his eyes were full.

You looked at him, blinking slowly, like you were trying to sort through the fog.

“The doctor said it was a basic laparoscopy… just checking things. What did they find?”

Jensen hesitated.

And that pause… told you everything.

Your smile faded. “What happened?”

He looked down, took a breath, and laced their fingers tighter. He didn’t want to say it. Not because he thought you couldn’t handle it — but because he wasn’t sure he could say it without cracking wide open.

“There was more than they expected,” he said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “The endometriosis… it had grown. It was worse than they thought.”

Your brows lifted slightly. “So they…?”

“They asked me,” he said. “Mid-procedure. They didn’t want to wait. Said they could remove it right then, increase your chances.”

Your hand squeezed his just faintly.

He looked up at you again, and that’s when it happened — not a breakdown, not sobbing — but the crack. The slight tremble in his bottom lip, the tightness in his voice.

“I had to make the call, you said you wanted me to be the one,” he whispered. “And I did. I told them to do it. Because I knew you’d want that. I knew you’d fight for the chance. And I’ll be damned if you don’t get the fucking chance.”

Your eyes softened instantly. You reached for him — slow and shaky — fingers brushing his jaw, then resting at the side of his face.

“You did the right thing,” you said.

“I didn’t want to make that choice for you,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t let you wake up still carrying something that could’ve been taken out. Wondering why I couldn’t do the one thing you asked.”

“You didn’t make it for me, Jensen… you made it with me. For us.” Your voice was hoarse, soft, but strong. “You knew what I would’ve said.”

“I didn't like you being back there alone,” he murmured.

“I know,” you said immediately, no hesitation. “But, You were steady. You were here. And I’m proud of you for taking that on.”

That hit him harder than anything.

You were lying in a hospital bed, groggy and stitched up. He was barely hanging on because he wanted to switch places with you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “That you had to carry that decision. That I couldn't.”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently to your shoulder.

“I’d carry a hell of a lot more than that for you,” he breathed.

The soreness hadn’t let up much.

You shuffled slowly through the kitchen, one arm wrapped around your middle as you adjusted the ice pack tucked into the waistband ofJensens sweats. Every step still tugged, still burned — but you were on your feet, finally. That had to count for something.

Jensen had insisted on staying home a few more days. Called Haas and said, “She needs me. I’m staying.” And Haas, as always, said okay. Jensen didn’t leave room for negotiation when it came to home lately.

He was gone now, picking up JJ, Arrow, and Zeppelin from school — the house was quiet for the first time all day.

You leaned over the counter, going over the checklist you'd made for Ivy’s surprise graduation party. Ivy didn’t know anything yet, and you intended to keep it that way.

Music, check.

Catering, almost done.

Custom cupcakes that said “congratulations CNM Ivy!”, check.

Balloons… definitely!

A knock at the door pulled you from the list. You padded carefully to it and opened it just in time to see the mailman disappear back down the front walk.

A medium-sized box sat on the porch.

You bent (too fast) and hissed softly, grabbing it.

It was addressed to Jensen.

Weird.

He never had packages sent here. Not without texting first to warn you about it so the kids didn’t open something they shouldn’t.

Never again.

You dialed his number, pressing the phone between your ear and shoulder as you brought the box to the kitchen.

He answered on the second ring, voices of the kids filling the car in the background.

“Hey babe, everything okay?”

“Yeah, all good. Just got a package with your name on it — you order something?”

A pause. “Uh… no? I don’t think so. What is it?”

You turned the box in her hands. “No return address. It’s not heavy. A feather maybe?”

“Open it. Hell, I don't know.” He laughed. “Walking in to H-E-B, don’t worry I have the list.”

“Finally you remember.” You smiled in to the phone.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.” You smiled while hanging up.

You grabbed the scissors from the drawer slicing the box open.

And froze.

Nestled inside was a black velvet box. Small. Square. The kind that made your breath catch.

“There’s No way…” you whispered.

You popped the box open —

Really hoping for earrings. Maybe a Nurse pin for Ivy. Something other than—

And there it was.

The ring.

Elegant. Perfect. Similar to the one you fell in love with on Pinterest but so different.

The stone caught the light in the kitchen and just glowed.

Your mouth dropped open.

“Holy shit.” You squeaked.

Then you panicked. Forgetting the pain entirely and digging for packing tape you knew was here.

You taped it back.

You shoved it under a pile of mail.

And when Jensen got home you acted like you forgot all about it.

“Seriously?”

“Yes? I started hurting.”

“Where?”

“I’m fine. It’s fine. All good just uhm. It’s on the counter I think. Somewhere.” You waved curling up more under the blanket really hoping he didn’t press further.

A/N: in the wise words of @jays-bonnie-on-the-side can I just leave these two alone? No. Apparently the answer is no. BUT THEYRE STRONGER FOR IT.

Tags:

@jensen-timetraveling-wife

@candy-coated-misery0731

@lovelywebber

@deansimpalababy

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@hobby27

@imsiriuslyreal

@smoothdogsgirl

@stoneyggirl2

@1bucky-barnes-wife1

@eagerlycyberchaos

@castielscaplan

@callsign-ember

@soullessambs

@deans-baby-momma

@jakiki94

#jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles #jensen ackles smut

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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 5 days ago

Note

I was roleplaying with a bit and someone mentions Jensen’s face so I went off here is what I wrote! Please give me your thoughts on the snippet

Y/n wasn’t one for the spot light or confrontation but she spoke outloud from off stage in the wings. First cursing “bullshit”causing attention

The girl had her arms crossed and hands in fists. Pacing back and forth if she should go and yell at the random person infront of everyone and despite it being out of character she did it storming onto the stage

Y/N: Hey I heard that and thats a straight up lie!!! First of all he’s always been drop dead gorgeous and handsome since he blessed humanity with his presence! And Second! Not only is he amazing to look at he’s equally amazing dare I say more amazing to be around! He’s hardworking,dedicated, multi talented and has a wonderful heart! He’s a gentleman through and through! He makes the days better by a simple smile! So don’t you dare say somthing as low as that again! And if you don’t appreciate EVERYTHING!!!! He does for you all than maybe you should leave!

She then apologized for causing a scene and ran back stage.

i think that was amazing and tag me if and when you release more 😁💛

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #soldier boy #beau arlen #the boys #jensen fucking ackles #fanfic

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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 5 days ago

Text

HEAT RISING

PAIRING : jensen ackles x fem!reader

SUMMARY : at work, jensen’s face gets a clean shave but when he returns home, all he does is get it dirty.

WARNINGS : fluff. love. established relationship. insecurities. strong language. surprises. cunnilingus. face riding. fingering. squirting. dom!jensen. dom!reader.

A/N: i’ve been thinking about his beautiful shaven face for a while. he looks amazing. and to the haters who call themselves fans & are telling my man he’s ugly, doesn’t look good and/or YOU don’t like it, fuck off. he’s still a person with feelings. beard or no beard, he does and will always look incredible.

With a groan, you push the heavy box to the opposite side of your newly furnished apartment. You stand with a huff, and your gaze drifts past the wall-length windows, overlooking the city of Toronto. What a view. Your phone captures your attention with a chime, hoping it was the one person you couldn’t wait to hear from. With a wipe of your brow, you walk towards the coffee table and pick up the device.

I’ve never felt so naked.

The corner of your mouth curls at your boyfriend’s humorous text. Your thumbs move fast and type: I’ll have to see about that 😏 With a shake of your head, you delete the words. No, no. Now’s the time to be supportive, not feed into your desires. So, you respond with ‘I’m sure you look great.’ The three dots appear, and you bite your lip in anticipation.

I don’t know how to feel about it yet.

It’s been 5 years since I’ve gone without one.

You couldn’t wait to see how gorgeous he’ll look. ‘Like a rugged, slightly older Dean Winchester. Part of you would miss his neatly trimmed beard, but the other part was curious. Should I ask for a picture now or wait till he gets home? You ponder. As if he could read your mind, he sends similar text to the one from your thoughts.

Wanna see now or wait till I come home?

You chew on your lip as you contemplate what to do. As if the decision was so hard, you sit on the couch and allow your brain to contemplate. Decisions, decisions. Either way, you’d be thinking about him all day. Lord knew you hated surprises, but this one… Your phone chimes again, and you look at his text.

Since I know you’re thinking too hard about it, I’ll decide for you

See you when I get home princess 😘

And that was the last you heard from him all day. The anticipation killed you, so you spent the time unpacking boxes and preparing dinner. Your eyes kept drifting to your phone, waiting for the text that he tells you he’s on his way home. When 9 p.m. came around and you hadn’t heard anything, you put dinner in the oven and went into the bathroom off the master to take a shower.

Your body had ached from moving up and down, and side to side, for the past couple of days. Jensen was helping you as much as he could, but you refused, as he had a big week coming up: Vought Rising begins filming. The hot water had run over your sore muscles, soothing them for the night. The steady hiss of the shower head and the soft,resonant drumming of the water hitting the tile floor had you in a trance. For the first time today, your mind was clear.

Suddenly, the loud sound of your ringtone cuts through the peaceful silence. Your eyes snap open before stepping out of the water. For the past 10 minutes, you stood underneath the water, already clean, ‘cause it was too good to give up. You turn the handle until the constant stream ceases. The call continues, lighting a fire under your ass to move quicker. You push open the glass door and reach for the plush towel to wrap it around your slick body. Once out of the shower, you rush to the countertop and snatch your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby,” His tired voice chirps.

You sigh with relief that you answered in time. With a smile, you repeat, “Hey.”

“I’m just finishing up. Sorry, it took so long.”

“It’s okay. I miss you.” You confess.

He chuckles, but you can hear the exhaustion. “I’ve only been gone for 7 hours.”

“So I’m not allowed to miss you?”

“No, no. I love it when you miss me.”

“That’s what I thought.” You quip.

You walk into your shared bedroom and exchange your towel for your robe. With your phone on speaker, the call continues.

“I can’t wait to see you.”

“I can’t wait to see you. And to see this naked face of yours.”

“Yeah. I’m interested in seeing your reaction.”

“Well, get home quick. I have dinner waiting.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’re on our way now. Be there in 20.”

The call ends, and you change into something more comfortable. After your nighttime routine, you walk toward the kitchen. With your phone in hand, you check his location; He had just arrived. You grab the pans from the oven and set them on the island, before taking a plate from the cabinet and pouring him a sizeable portion. The door to the apartment opens, and a wave of excitement travels throughout your body. You poke your head out of the kitchen with a smile.

“Hey—! Oh shit…”

His smile drops once he hears you. He shuts the door behind him and frowns.

“You don’t like it, do you?”

“No, no. It’s not that,” You rush over to him. “You just look so…”

“Ugly.”

Your eyes widen in shock. How could he ever say such a thing?!

“What?! Of course not! Never! Don’t ever say that!”

His eyes don’t leave the floor, and your heart hangs heavy. How could he even think that? You cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. He looks into your eyes, searching for any signs of dishonesty. You stare into his soul and scare off all the monstrous doubts that overwhelmed him.

“Okay.”

Your thumbs stroke his hairless cheeks. He really did look like an older Dean. The Dean that was deserved. He gazes at you, waiting for you to say something, but you don’t, at least not right away. He was so handsome.

“You look great, J. So….dashing.”

A small grin spreads across his face. You couldn’t help but return his smile, especially when the heat rose upon his tan cheeks. Jensen wasn’t one to blush often, but when he did, it was a sight to see. Sometimes, everyone forgets he’s more than just a celebrity with thick skin; He can be an insecure man with fragile feelings. To you, he’s both, and you couldn’t have loved him more.

He steps forward, his arms snaking around your waist, and pulls you into a kiss. It was soft, pure, the kind that says ‘I love you.’ His hands migrate south while yours slide into his freshly cut hair. The kiss gets deeper, rougher, so you stop it before it goes further, knowing he has a big day tomorrow. You give a quick peck, then head towards the kitchen.

“I was just heating dinner.” You take the plate you had abandoned earlier and pop it in the microwave. “How was the shoot?”

He leans against the doorframe, watching you move around the kitchen, now pouring yourself a plate.

“It was good. My face hurts.”

You chuckle, “That’s all I get? Your face hurts? I know your face hurts. It’s from being too damn pretty. Now, did you get a new suit? Did you pose with oth—?”

Your question gets interrupted when he spins you around and smashes his lips against yours. The kiss caught you off guard, but you quickly melt into it. You feel it, or more so, don’t feel it anymore. His beard wasn’t there to tickle or scratch you. Jensen’s large hand squeezes your ass, and you gasp. He seizes the opportunity and shoves his hot tongue in your mouth. He walks you over to the clear side of the large island and practically throws you on the countertop.

On instinct, your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. Jensen steals your breath with a hypnotic kiss, and you forget what you were asking before he interrupted you. His hands run up and down your thighs before he grips them tightly. He breaks the heated kiss, and both of your lips are swollen from sucking face. Your chests rise and fall, the adrenaline and dopamine responding to one another’s touch.

“Someone’s in no mood to talk,” You joke lightly.

“Less talking, more eating.” His teeth tug on your earlobe, sending chills down your spine. “And I want my first meal to be you.”

“Mmm…is that so?”

“Mhm. After all, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten you without my beard.” He was indeed correct. “‘Can’t have that now, can we?”

“N-no, sir.”

His mouth attaches to your neck, licking, biting, sucking—all the ways to get you wetter. And it works. His kisses trail to our collarbone while his hand reaches up and grabs your breast, fondling it as if it were Play-Doh. You throw your head back and enjoy the stimulation, trying your best not to grind against him. But you can’t resist.

Just when you get lost in your thoughts, he pushes you back so you’re lying horizontal to the island. Your once shut eyes open from surprise. Dazed, you lift your head and watch him kiss down your torso. He lifts your silk shirt, exposing your belly to the cool air before peppering your skin with wet kisses. His fingers wrap around the waistbands of your shorts and panties before pulling them down slowly.

You bite your lip, your brows knitting together as his lips skim over your pelvis and down to the lowest part of your hip line, dangerously close to your bundle of nerves. The discarded items lay at his feet, forgotten, just like the food you made earlier. No, Jensen wanted dessert first, and his favorite was always between your legs. His hands cup the back of your knees, then forcefully pull you toward the edge of the countertop. You gasp at the sudden action before he throws your legs over his shoulders.

He takes his time, teasing you enough to want more, so your hand runs through his shorter hair, tugging him further down. You begin to squirm beneath him as he delivers tauntingly soft yet rough nibbles to the inside of your thighs. His kisses trail at an antagonizing slow pace, and he knows exactly what he’s doing. A sinister smile graces his hairless countenance, and it almost pisses you off. Like an animal going in for the attack, he strikes and immediately devours you.

You knew it was coming; You’ve experienced it many times before, but it always got you. It always felt new and exciting. His arms wrap around your thighs, holding you in place—as if you would go anywhere else—as he eats you out on the kitchen island like it were his first and last meal. Your back arches off the marbled top, and not just because it was freezing.

Jensen’s tongue licks a stripe from the entrance of your vagina to the top of your folds. You nearly hiss when his lips wrap around your aching button. He sucks on your clit lightly, slowly easing you in, but you knew him, you knew what was coming. What you didn’t expect was the swift movement of his arms freeing themselves from around your thighs, only to grab your arms, and lift you off the island. Your eyes snap open, just as you get boosted into the air. The hold your legs had around his neck tightens, and one of your hands moves to grip the hair on top of his head.

The pleasure you felt moments before is instantly replaced with fear as you try to balance on his face and shoulders. One of his arms wrapped around your hips while the other held your back straight. Still, you wiggle above him, gravity swaying your body, telling it that it shouldn’t be where it was now: hoisted in the air. And yet, it doesn’t stop your boyfriend. No, he continues his sucking like you weren’t nearly 8 feet in the air.

“Jensen!” You screech as you hang on for dear life. “Baby, put me down.“

He shakes his head ever so slightly, but enough to make you lean. Your arms wrap around his head and your feet hook around the front of his body, steadying you just a bit, but it doesn’t matter. His strong arms don’t fail you. He holds you high and unwavering. The pleasure he’s causing between your legs begins to chip at your fright. Damn him!

Your eyes begin to flutter, slowly getting used to the fact that he isn’t going to stop. And just when you think the worst has come, he begins to move. Startled, your eyelids open wide, and you realize you’re being carried out of the kitchen. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! You weren’t afraid of heights, but you’d be a fool if you weren’t cautious of falling and breaking your neck.

“Baby, I’m gonna fall!”

He pulls far enough away to mumble against your mound, “You won’t. Now, shut up and guide me.”

Between his assertiveness and the vibrations he sent through your body, you get wetter. You wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t already dripping on his shirt. With a shaky breath, you unlatch one hand from his hair, and as luck would have it, your palm is high enough to touch the ceiling in the hallway leading to your master bedroom. He walks forward, his mouth not letting up. Your breathing gets heavy as the danger amplifies your stimulation.

“Fuck, keep going,” You moan out, meaning both his actions and your directions.

It felt like forever yet not long enough, but you made it to your room. Jensen carefully sits at the foot of the bed and lies back, with you now straddling his face. A rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you take control, just like he wanted you to. With your dominant hand in his perfectly tousled hair, you position your entrance above his mouth. His tongue instantly finds your hole and inserts itself, making you jump.

You ease back down, and this time you grind. Like your boyfriend before, you begin slowly, but you quickly realize you’re only teasing yourself. Your hips move in a figure-eight, his nose brushing against your clit. The hold in his hair tightens as he deliberately hums, sending you closer to the edge. You throw your head back as his relentless mouth skillfully works. His lips wrap around and tug on yours. His teeth lightly scrape against your folds, which sends your eyes rolling.

It was coming. You feel it approaching quickly, your breathing becomes shallower, and your walls tighten around nothing. Oh, fuck. Your thighs begin to tremble, and you catch yourself slipping, your weight pressing further down onto his naked face. He reaches between your legs and presses the pad of his thumb against your sensitive nub with heavy pressure, knowing you’d be a goner. And you were. With a tremble, you convulse and gush into his awaiting mouth.

You cry out in ecstasy—totally ignoring the fact that you could break his nose. But he doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he eats you through your orgasm like the man he is. Your thighs alone could’ve suffocated him, but the weight would’ve broken him, and yet, he pulls you down further. His arms wrap around your thighs and don’t let up until he eats every last crumb. Your very own cookie monster.

With a breathless sigh, you climb off of him, your legs made of jelly. God, that was spectacular, you thought. But he isn’t done with you. Oh, no. The moment your head hits the pillow, he gets up and kneels between your legs. His chin glistened with reminiscence of your cum, and damn, he never looked hotter with such a clean face. It ain’t clean anymore, you nearly chuckle to yourself.

“Fuck, J, that was—“

“Not all, darlin’.” He props your legs up and his dominant hand strokes your pussy. “I want one more.”

You don’t argue. His fingers tease your awaiting entrance, and you beg to be filled. He grants your wish and slips his index finger inside your wet hole. You whimper at the slow ease, but it isn’t enough. He reads your mind before you can ask and pushes in his adjacent finger. A moan falls from your lips, grateful the ache began to dissipate.

Like the pattern he always follows, he starts with a steady rhythm. With each thrust, he increases, faster and harder than the time before. His touch has you in a trance, and your body moves like you’re his puppet. Your back arches, your toes curl, your fingers grip the sheets, your eyes roll back like you were possessed. And when he curls his fingers and repeatedly slams into your G-spot, even God can’t help you.

“J-Jay!” Your voice was high and erratic. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum.”

And that’s when he leans down and latches onto your overstimulated clit. Fuuuuuccckkkkk! You shout several praises, some you can’t even make out, but he knows your babbling meant he’s getting the job done. Besides your moans, groans, whimpers, and cries, the room is filled with the symphony of squelches that only Jensen knew how to play best. With the snap deep in your belly, the walls come tumbling down like Berlin, and the dam you didn’t think you had left you in squirts down Jensen’s arm.

You scream with rapture as your orgasm shudders through your fragile body. In your soul, you knew there was a heaven because of all the times Jensen had taken you there, especially on a night like tonight. When the stars fade away, your back slowly lowers onto the mattress. The death grip on the drenched sheets loosened, leaving a small ache in your digits. As you lie there, catching your breath, you feel your once-sore muscles tighten again. Totally worth it. Your gaze lands on your hot boyfriend, and a small whimper falls from your lips as you watch him lick your nectar off his tanned skin. God, he’s perfect.

“Damn, I should really call Animal Protective Services,” You say with as much nonchalance as you can muster.

His brows meet in confusion, and he asks, “Why’s that?”

“‘Cause the way you ate this cat…”

“Oh my—“ He dramatically rolls his gorgeous, darkened green eyes. “I swear, I’m with a girl version of Jared. What the hell.”

“Must you speak about our friend before screwing my brains out? I prefer pillow talk to be after we fuck.” You tease.

“Yeah, yeah.”

He climbs off the bed, standing at the foot of it, his eyes never leaving you. He watches your unsubtle reactions as his strong hand unbuckles his belt ever so slowly. I swear, if this man makes me wait one more second. As if your thoughts were on display, he shoves and kicks his pants off before pouncing on you like the animal he is. Day 1 of beardless Jensen is one you’d never soon forget, and he makes damn sure of it.

JENSEN ACKLES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAG LIST

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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 9 days ago

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okay, i take it back. THIS is my favorite chapter thus far! 😆❤️

This one’s for the girls 14/?

Shut the fuck up Jensen.

Summary: your annual girlstrip to a special supernatural event after a bad breakup, Jensen being Jensen but what does it mean?

Work count: 14k

Characters: Stella Bonnie Bridgette Ivy

Warnings: Angst, fluff, more angst, the beer idea is mine I call it in trade marking that shit 🤣🤣

You kept Jensen occupied all day, top golf, lunch, shopping, dinner. Even a movie somehow.

But, everyone was struggling, but with the task at hand. You’d hired caterers, Bridgette made his cake, Ivy planned the whole thing, it was the brewery.

But luck wasn’t on your side at the moment.

The A/C went out. And Tony unknowingly called Jensen.

You’d never snatched his phone from him before.

You had now.

Jared had someone meet them.

Bonnie was determined she was out shining you on the gift.

You’d already won. What man doesn’t want to wake up to head first thing on their birthday?

You won. Plain and simple.

He was restless, wondering why you took his phone, why you were on yours like a mad man. He knew something was up.

You weren't telling him.

Instead you let him squirm.

Until 7:45pm. You got the go.

Turning his truck around at an intersection making him yell

“What the hell!”

He hated when you drove. Despised it. Infact after today you were never driving again.

What he didn’t hate? The reason you had to bust that U-turn to begin with.

You’d parked his truck in an abandoned parking lot off 4th street down town thirty minutes prior and rode him in his front seat in fucking public like your life depended on it.

You weren't trying. Not yet.

But practicing was fun. And dammit were you two good at practicing.

He looked at you like you had three heads when you took the turn in west lake towards Bee Cave. Then again to Dripping Springs.

“Brewery?”

“Enjoy the ride Jay.”

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?” You looked over briefly. Smirk forming.

“My girlfriend's driving like a Maniac. I’m pretty sure three people saw us in that parking lot. And all around sweetheart you’ve been weird all fucking day so, a little tense over here.”

“Oh relax. Just admit this is the best birthday you’ve ever had.” You smiled at him.

It was. He’d told you that all day. The kids went with Jeff and Bonnie after lunch, but the morning was spent teaching them to play golf, a million birthday drawings, what you’d woken him up to this morning, and a massive breakfast you refused to let him help with.

But the afternoon was just the two of you. And he really liked that. You hadn’t had much alone time, without the fear of someone waking up.

He wasn’t complaining. But having you alone, how you’d strategically planned the entire day around him, how you reminded him all day it was about him and you loved him like you were on repeat.

He knew it. But those moments he felt it. bone deep, he wasn’t expecting the blind fold. And he would have asked if this was some kinky bucket list sex you were planning if he hadn’t seen the wide beautiful smile across your lips.

“Trust me.” You said softly.

And he did. God he did. So he put the damn thing on.

The fight was long forgotten between the two of you. But Jensen, it lived rent free in his head.

The ring rent free in his first Rolex box in the closet under a pile of clothes he refused to let you touch for sake of “they’re Deans' clothes I haven’t touched. They live there now. Don’t move them please.”

You hadn’t. And they wernt deans. They were actually Beaus he was sure. He really liked that blue flannel.

You knew they hadn’t been there before. He knew that. But, you were walking in one day when he was sending a picture of it to the jeweler, and he grabbed the first box he could reach.

He really needed to move it.

Maybe he’d put it in Babys glove box. You never went out there. Unless he was working in the garage.

And he felt the rocks. Brewery.

Cars were everywhere. You may have stolen Jensens phone in the middle of the night and invited whoever you knew he’d want there.

A few couldn’t make it. Which was fine. But the amount of cars, neatly parked, Jeff waving you in with his marshalling wands made you giggle.

The brewery glowed ahead. Warm and golden. Strings of café lights draped from the trees, leading a soft trail to the beer garden, which flickered with bonfires and lanterns. Laughter carried in the air.

Ivy had gone all out. Each table was themed after one of Jensen’s iconic roles

And by iconic you mean all of them. He was Jensen fucking Ackles.

There was a wall made of pictures over the years, coolers everywhere, a Photo Booth set up, he didn’t want presents he made that clear but the table full of them gave two big middle fingers to his wants.

He deserved them.

Bbq catered tables lined the garden, whatever he could dream of. There. Waiting.

You hid your giggles at the cardboard cut outs of Beau, Dean, and Ben.

It was hilarious. But it meant something. You weren’t just celebrating him, you were celebrating ALL of him.

His family, friends, costars (except Blake fuck her), crew, producers, directors, you name it stood in a group while you led him blindly.

All gathered around the massive table. And surrounded by cupcakes, cookies, pies, and brownies (Jensen wasn’t leaving that table you knew it.) sat the cake.

Big. Solid. No frills. Just a four-tiered chocolate beast shaped like a beer keg — Bridgette had carved Family Business into the side like it was an actual barrel, and there was a small Impala on top, headlights lit.

“BDAY-48” was scrawled across a sugar license plate.

And around it was the beer you and Tony came up with. Your idea, his magic.

‘Ackles after dark.’ You’d named it after Tony brought a bottle to your salon.

It wasn’t a traditional beer.

Smoked Maple Bourbon Porter

Roasted malt, dark chocolate, maple syrup, coffee, finished on bourbon soaked oak chips.

Okay.

Maybe you’d all planned this party since before Christmas.

You took the blindfold off him with a smile and you’re sure Australia heard “surprise”

And Jensen just blinked. His arm around your waist like an anchor. Looking around before a smile finally broke.

“You did this?”

“We all did.”

“Is that a Beau Arlen cut out?” He looked over for a second making you laugh.

“Greatest sheriff there ever was. We could get mark here in time. So if he shows up in the house just ignore him.”

He smiled then. Really, truly smiled. Like he was fighting tears of joy.

The hugs, handshakes, and jokes came next. Then the daddy dog pile the kids practiced since he got home.

All the stress, the fear, gone, he looked lighter, freer.

Yeah, he definitely deserved this.

And he let himself have it.

He kept you close, introducing you to everyone. Bringing you a little deeper in to his world outside of home each time.

Uli was a glorious human being who wrapped you in a tight hug. Jared pretended to act like he didn’t know you.

Just so Jensen had to introduce you again.

You slipped away at one point, taking a bottle of beer and dragging tony out of hiding.

Jensen hadn’t even asked about a beer. But he turned when you tapped his shoulder from looking at the Beau cut out up close.

“Hey beautiful.” He smiled.

“Hiya, handsome so, Tony and I did something.”

“You did?” He asked looking between the two of you.

“Her idea I was just the one who brought it to life.”

Jensen looked back at you then with a smile. “Let’s hear it sweetheart.”

You pulled the bottle from behind your back, the label standing out to him first, he took it from your hands.

“She did all the label making, the back label, it’s got a whole story. I can only take credit for making sure her vision was spot on.”

“And the taste. My ratios were way off.” You nudged him.

But Jensen was looking at the label. His face made up of parts of each character. That made him whole.

He heard you talking with Tony. But he was shocked. More than shocked, he was completely floored.

Then he turned the bottle over. The back label looked hand written. Your hand writing. He’d know it anywhere.

“Hes played the hero. The villain. The man with the gun, the man with the guitar, the man with the car, the man carrying the weight of the world in the silence between scenes.

But beyond the characters, there’s something deeper — someone who wears each role like another layer of flannel and smoke. He’s A father. A partner. A son. A friend. A brother. He’s kind of man who shows up when it matters and listens when words fall short.

Ackles After Dark is built like him: rich, complex, and unapologetically real.

This isn’t a beer for the spotlight.

It’s for the moments after.

The ones where the masks come off — and the man remains.

This one’s for Jensen.’

When he looked up tony was gone. And you were looking at him with love deep in your eyes.

“You made this?”

“Well—not all of it. Tony he—yeah, uhm, I mean I came up with the lables, and the recipe, really I just threw out things I thought might go together—things you like.

He kissed you then, slow and full of love. He was the one coming up with ideas and labels, tony was the backbone the man power, and here you had come up with all of it, and thought of things he never would. He pulled back, holding you against him looking back at the cold bottle in his hand.

He looked at the bottle again, slowly turning it in his hand like he couldn’t quite believe it was real. His thumb brushed over the label, over the words in your handwriting.

“…Damn,” he said softly, eyes still on the bottle. Then he looked at you, expression caught somewhere between a smile and something more raw, more vulnerable.

“You really did this?” he asked again, voice lower this time — not disbelieving, just trying to wrap his head around it.

When you nodded, cheeks warm, he let out a breath of a laugh and shook his head. “You always see me better than I see myself.”

He looked down at the bottle one more time, then up at you, eyes a little glassy now. “You know, I’ve been given a lot of things over the years… awards, scripts, even a damn bobblehead once.” He laughed softly, then paused, holding the bottle like it meant more than anything else.

“But this?” He looked at you like there was no one else in the world.

Because for him there wasn’t.

“This is the most personal, most me thing anyone’s ever made. You didn’t just get the details right. You got the heart right.”

He just stared at the bottle in his hand again, turning it slowly like he was afraid if he looked away, it might disappear. His thumb traced over the edge of the label, then over your handwriting on the back — he could feel you in every word.

His jaw tightened. Eyes soft.

Then he looked at you.

And in that moment, there was nothing in him but awe. No bravado. No performance. Just him, stripped bare by the depth of what you’d done.

“I don’t…” His voice caught, rough and low. “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

He he pulled you closer, bottle still in one hand against your back, the other rising to your face — fingers grazing your cheek like he needed to be sure you were real. Like touching you helped him make sense of everything he was feeling.

“You saw every part of me,” he said quietly, eyes searching yours. “Even the parts I tried to keep in the dark… you didn’t just see them. You made them beautiful.”

You smiled softly, eyes shining, your own breath catching at the look on his face — open, vulnerable, shaken in the most honest way.

You leaned in just enough that your lips brushed his cheek as you whispered,

“Happy birthday, baby.”

His eyes closed.

It hit him like a wave.

Not just the words — but the way you said them. The way they carried everything he couldn’t yet say out loud.

He set the bottle down carefully, almost reverently, and wrapped both arms around you, pulling you in tight like he never wanted to let go. Kissing you again. Slower, like he had something to say but no words to say it. Pulling back for a brief second—before kissing you again.

No cameras. No lines.

Just this.

Just you.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your skin. “For seeing me. For loving all of me. No one’s ever…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

Because the way he held you said the rest.

Jensen kissed you again — deeper this time, like he could pour everything he felt into that one moment. You melted into him, fingers curling into his shirt, the laughter from the day on her lips, now replaced by something softer, warmer. And he was addicted.

“Oh my God, are you two surgically attached now? Should I get a crowbar or just leave y’all here to fuse into one beautiful, co-dependent forest creature?”

Stella broke into startled laughter as she pulled back just slightly, her cheek still brushing Jensen’s. He sighed, not even turning around yet.

“Seriously,” Bonnie continued, stomping over dramatically in heels she probably regretted wearing, holding a half-drunk glass of sangria like a scepter. “There’s a full-on party happening. Balloons. Booze. A cheese board that cost more than my car insurance. And the birthday boy’s playing seven-minutes-in-heaven by the beer cooler in the corner like we’re in a high school rom-com.”

Jensen finally turned with a smirk, keeping one arm wrapped tight around your waist. “You always interrupt this gracefully?”

Bonnie blinked. “I interrupted your soulmate smoochfest so your guests don’t start wondering if you snuck out to become human love pretzels!”

Stella covered her mouth, laughing. Jensen dropped his head onto her shoulder again, groaning through a smile.

“Bonnie.” You breathed heavily.

“No. No. There is an actual party happening, and you two are back here playing tongue-twister in a corner like horny raccoons.”

Bonnie grinned wide. “Five minutes. Then I’m dragging you both out there. And if I have to pull you apart with salad tongs, I will.”

She gave them an exaggerated wink, spun around, and strutted off like she had a mic drop to follow.

Jensen looked up at Stella, his eyes dancing. “Should we be worried about the salad tongs?”

“I’m more worried about the cheese board,” she said through her giggles.

He kissed her nose. “Okay. Quick break from fusing into the perfect salty snack. Then cake.”

“You are the perfect salty snack.” You grinned.

He looked at you for a second. Befor laughing. “I swear you and Bonnie were made to be sisters but the world couldn’t handle the two of you under the same roof for more than a couple days.”

He opened the beer with a smile. Before taking a drink.

“Holy shit.”

“It’s good right. We were shocked to.” You giggled.

And hand in hand, they turned back toward the party, still laughing — the kind of laughter that only comes from feeling completely, undeniably happy.

He made his rounds again, making sure to visit that table of desserts while holding a plate full of bbq.

Beers in both back pockets one empty one working on being Empty.

He was in the middle of clearing off a rib bone when the music dipped making him look up, as Jared stood up, tall and relaxed, tapping a spoon against his bottle just loud enough to get the garden's attention.

He cleared his throat. “Alright. I’ve got a drink in my hand and no business doing this without a script, but here we go. I’ve been asked to keep this short, heartfelt, and classy. So naturally, I ignored all three of those instructions.”

Laughter rolled through the crowd.

“So, it’s Jensen’s birthday. And all of us here, in some way, have been impacted by this guy — whether you know him from work, from home, from years of friendship, or, if you’re me, from being stuck on set with him for over half your adult life.”

More laughter.

“But I’ve seen the parts of him the world doesn’t. And those are the parts I want to talk about. I didn’t just work with Jensen. I grew up with him. But here’s what I didn’t know when we started all those years ago: I didn’t know I’d watch this man go through some of the hardest, darkest years of his life — and come out on the other side not just whole… but better… I watched him find what he thought was love, and then I had to watch him get ripped to shreds by the woman who was supposed to love him.”

Jensen tensed next to you, your hand instinctively on his arm. He looked at you a moment. Then back at Jared.

“I saw him go through heartbreak. Not the kind you shake off — the kind that guts you. The kind that makes you question everything you thought your life was supposed to be.”

It was silent now. Jensen's jaw tight, food left forgotten, and his arm now tightly wrapped around you.

“A few years ago, I watched Jensen go through one of the darkest chapters of his life. And I’m not talking about bad days or rough months — I’m talking about a full-on storm. Divorce. Custody battles. Sleepless nights. Full work schedule. And a kind of heartbreak that didn’t just bruise him — it gutted him.”

Another pause. The emotion in the room was thick, but steady.

“He fought harder than I’ve ever seen anyone fight — not for fame, not for some second act, but for peace. For his kids. For his damn self. But he didn’t start fighting for himself until a certain red head ahem.” He loudly cleared his throat looking directly at you.

“Called him out in the middle of a convention in Rome in front of 300 people. Picture it, Jensen had just gone public with his divorce. He was quiet that trip. Guarded. Tired. But not in the ‘jetlag’ kind of way. He was emotionally beat up. And we were doing our usual thing —but he was all fake smiles, long days, playing it cool onstage.”

There was a little laughter. Even Jensen relaxed.

“And this woman — not his girlfriend yet, just this whip-smart force of nature with zero tolerance for his ‘I’m fine’ bull shit fan— steps up to the mic, and says ‘Hey. When’s the last time you did something for yourself? Like… actually took care of yourself? Because no offense, you look like hell and you’re lying to everyone, especially you.”

“That is not what I said!” You called out fast and Jared laughed. Jensen shaking his head.

“Really because “I’m not asking you if you’re physically okay because clearly you aren't, I'm asking if you’re taking care of your mental health with everything going on.” Sounds like a nicer version of what I just said.”

“Exactly. Nicer.” Jensen grinned.

“Anyway! My speech. Shut the fuck up Jack. I watched his face that day. It was like someone kicked him straight in the truth. And I’ll be honest — I’ve never seen him look so vulnerable. But it also woke him up. And when he got of that stage, and whatever was said between them, he hugged her. I knew it was game over. That was the first time in years I saw light come back into you, man.”

The room was quiet. Jensen looked like he might break if anyone else spoke, so Jared did it for him.

“What you two have now? It didn’t come easy. If you’ve met his ex you know why. It didn’t come fast. Well—once they both figured it out it was game over anyway. It came from the ashes. From the fights, the healing, the brutal honesty, the choice to love again when it would’ve been easier not to.”

Jared’s voice caught slightly, just for a moment.

“And I watched my best friend — this strong, stubborn, loyal man — let his guard down. I watched him soften again. I watched him fall in love… not like the first time, not fast and flashy — but slow. Intentional. Real.”

The crowd was quiet, but warm — hanging on every word.

“He didn’t just survive his past. He rose from it. He rebuilt his life, brick by brick, and made space for something better than what he survived. Something true. A place to land and live. I watched him get full custody of his kids. And man are they thriving with Jensen and Stella. I’ve never seen them happier. I’ve never seen him happier.”

“So here’s to Jensen — the man he is with the masks on. But more importantly the man behind the mask. I’ve shared more road trips, protein bars, bad hotel coffee, and emotional breakdowns with than anyone else on this planet.”

“To the guy who gave love a second chance, who rose from the rubble of a life that hurt like hell, and who somehow came out softer, stronger, and still smug about his hair.”

“Happy birthday, brother. You deserve everything good. And I’ll keep saying that even if it means I get stuck riding shotgun next to your flannel-clad ass again for another 15 seasons. There’s no one I’d rather be Stuck with.”

Cheers erupted. Glasses clinked. Stella was already wiping under her eyes. Jensen stood, laughing through something heavier behind his smile.

And then Jared added, deadpan:

“Also, if anyone wants to see a photo of him passed out in the Impala because he got lost after a wrap party— come see me after the toast.”

Laughter roared.

Jensen mouthed, “You’re dead.”

Jared just winked and raised his glass again. “Love you, man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The late afternoon sun was soft and golden as the SUV pulled up to the rented house in the hills. It wasn’t massive — just tucked away enough to feel private, with sprawling views of the city below and enough space for three kids, two tired parents, and the emotional baggage that came with starting something new.

Jensen stepped out first, already wearing that Countdown ball cap — the new one with the subtle embroidered “S2” along the edge — and sunglasses he probably didn’t need, given the way he squinted up at the house anyway.

He exhaled. Long. Settling. Like even though he’d been doing press junkets, filming the boys, and late-night phone calls for months, this — arriving, really arriving — family in tow a ring ready to be made into everything he planned, and knowing four hours and he could get home at any time. He’d made sure to add breaks into this schedule.

Every other weekend. And when he couldn’t you’d come to him. You all would.

“Alright, we made it,” he said, stretching slightly as he turned off the car.

The passenger door opened before he could finish the thought, and Stella stepped out, brushing travel hair out of her eyes and grinning as the back doors flew open in chaotic, kid-level excitement.

JJ was first, nearly thirteen going on twenty, clutching her backpack and a sketchpad as she looked around with a critical artist’s eye. “Okay, this is way nicer than the place in Toronto.”

Arrow followed close behind, bouncing like she’d been storing energy for this exact moment. “Is there a pool? Please tell me there’s a pool.”

Zeppelin lagged just a second, earbuds still in, hoodie sleeves too long over his hands as he looked up at the house like he was calculating its defenses. “I bet there’s a hidden panic room.”

“There is a pool,” Jensen confirmed, chuckling, “and if there’s a panic room, I’m claiming it for naps.”

“Dibs,” Zep muttered.

Stella rounded the car and handed him the smallest suitcase — his suitcase — smirking. “You’ll both have to fight me for it.”

Jensen grinned and leaned in to kiss her temple. “Deal.”

The kids were already halfway up the path, voices overlapping, JJ asking about takeout, Arrow begging for a swim, and Zep whispering something about starting a spy agency from the pool house.

Stella watched them, arms crossed loosely, sunglasses pushed into her hair. “They’re really happy.”

“Yeah,” Jensen said, voice softening as he looked at them, then back at her. “They are.”

“And you?” she asked, looking at him — no makeup, no show, just her. The version of her he’d fallen in love with. The one who didn’t pull punches but never missed a beat of his heart either.

He paused. Let it land. The weight of a new season, of a life that felt like a second chance. He was about to go headfirst into months of long days and late nights, demanding scenes and story arcs that would scrape at the edges of old wounds. But he had this. Her. Them.

This would be different. And he couldn’t wait to show you Los Angeles.

“I’m good,” he said, steady. “Actually… I think I’m better than good.”

She smiled at that — a quiet kind of proud, the kind you don’t always say out loud. As she turned into him her hair swinging as she moved her hands to his sides tilting her head up at him. “Yeah. You are.”

The door opened as JJ called back, “You guys coming or are you gonna stare at each other all day?”

“Oh hush and go inside,” Stella called back affectionately. “Let the adults make eyes and be in love in peace.”

“Oh my God!” Arrow screamed in mock horror.

“Gross!” Zeppelin added, already laughing.

Jensen threw his head back, laughing, and grabbed her hand.

“Welcome to spring break,” he muttered with a grin.

“Welcome to season two,” she whispered back.

Jensen had the week strategically planned.

Some things around his schedule, some when he wouldn’t be on set at all.

That’s what today was.

A day at Disney the nine of you. Around his shoot schedule before sunrise. But it was worth it.

Bonnie, Jeff, Georgie, and Gus had all arrived in Los Angeles two days ago, just as the early spring air had begun pressing down on the city like a weight. The air was thick, still, restless — a mirror of everything simmering inside that rented hotel room just outside of Studio City.

Jensen had left at 2am for a shoot downtown, Jeff with him. That was the plan. Leave early, knock out the shoot, grab breakfast, give the house a chance to settle before the chaos at Disney. But they were set back in an hour, when you found yourself in the middle of the quiet chaos. The turmoil really.

Gus wasn’t adjusting like Jeff hoped. You understood. But no one else did.

Bonnie had tried her best. Three times, in fact.

She’d knocked on Gus’s door with her soft voice and hopeful hands, trying to coax him out of bed with breakfast and a kind smile. The first time, he ignored her. The second time, he grunted something unintelligible. The third time, he barked — sharp and hot:

“I heard you the first time, okay?”

You saw her face fall from down the hall. It wasn’t loud. But it didn’t have to be. His words were blades. And she was already cut open from trying too hard to earn something he didn’t know how to give yet — forgiveness.

She backed away like the floor had dropped from under her. Eyes wide, heart in her throat, hands wringing the hem of her shirt like she could wring the emotion right out of her chest.

“I’m just… gonna shower,” she said, though no one had asked.

You didn’t stop her. Not yet.

Instead, you waited. Let the suite settle into its eerie, morning stillness — like the whole structure was holding its breath.

Jensen tried talking to him the night before. With no luck.

You find him in the kitchen again. Same mug, same silence. Only this time, his shoulders are lower. Like something inside him is starting to break.

He doesn’t look at you, not even when you come closer. But he doesn’t move away when you slide your arms around his waist, resting your head gently between his shoulder blades. His breath hitches.

“It’s Gus,” he says finally. “He’s angry. At Jeff. At Bonnie. At me.”

You wait. You already know there’s more. The silence tells you.

“He thinks Jeff left his mom for Bonnie. Just like he thinks I left Danneel… for you.”

He shakes his head slowly. “He doesn’t know. None of them know. Jeff didn’t leave because of Bonnie,” he says, voice shaking. “He left because she was cheating. For a long time. And she… she was cruel. Not just to him. Gus too.”

He swallows, and now his hands are shaking.

“And I didn’t leave Danneel for you. I didn’t even know how to leave, not really. I stayed through everything. The lies. The gaslighting. The things she said to the kids. What she said to me.”

You feel your chest ache at the memory of the bruises that weren’t always physical. The long nights Jensen would stare at the floor when the kids were asleep, trying to convince himself it hadn’t been that bad. But it was. It was worse.

“I know honey, god I know, from hillarie to Danneel. Especially Danneel. Believe me I still want to soccer punch her in the throat for hurting you and them.”

He laughed only a little before shaking his head.

“I stayed,” he whispers. “Too long. And Gus doesn’t know any of that. He just sees people falling apart. And now he thinks I’m the villain.”

You take his face in your hands. Gently. Like he’s something precious trying not to shatter.

“You got your kids out,” you say. “You gave them peace. And you never told them the ugliest parts—you let them grow without hate in their hearts. That’s not weakness, Jensen. That’s love.”

He leans into your touch, finally closing his eyes. His voice cracks on the next words.

“You helped them understand. You made them feel safe enough to tell their truth. You held them when I didn’t know how to fix what I’d broken by staying too long.”

He opens his eyes again, searching yours. “Could you… talk to Gus? Please. Not to defend me. Just to help him find solid ground. You know how to do that. You always know how to make the hard things gentler.”

And God, he means it. He’s not asking you to fix it. He’s asking you to hold space for a boy lost in someone else’s story—just like you did for his own children. Just like you did for him.

You nod, already sure.

“I’ll talk to him,” you say, voice warm and unwavering. “And I won’t tell him what to feel. I’ll just help him see the truth—without the weight of anyone else’s lies.”

He breathes, like he hasn’t in days. And you pull him into your arms, because that’s what love does when someone’s drowning.

It doesn’t tell them to swim.

It wades in and holds them above water until they remember how.

You took a deep breath. Steadying yourself.

Then you stepped toward his door.

It was cracked open just enough to show slivers of the teenager sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, elbows on knees, staring at the floor like it owed him an explanation. His hair was a mess. He looked like he hadn’t really slept — not deeply, anyway. The way kids don’t sleep when their hearts are too loud.

You knocked gently.

“Gus?”

He glanced up, startled.

“I didn’t know you were here already,” he mumbled, blinking blearily.

“Well,” you said, stepping inside with care, like the room itself was fragile, “I am. Kids are asleep on the couches.”

He looked at you for a second longer before nodding, rubbing at one eye. You moved slowly, deliberately, sitting on the edge of his bed like you belonged there, though a part of you questioned if you did. You weren’t his parent. Not his family. Not blood.

But you loved him. And that was something.

“We need to talk,” you said softly.

He didn’t argue. Just stared at the wall like he was bracing himself.

“This about Dad and Bonnie?” he asked after a beat, voice quiet.

“No,” you answered gently. “It’s about you.”

That made him pause. His brow furrowed. “Me?”

“You’re fifteen. And you’ve been handed a hell of a lot this past year. More than you deserve. More than most adults could handle.” You turned slightly toward him. “Your parents split. Your home changed. You had to become the steady one for your sister. And all the while, you’ve been trying to figure out how to grieve a family that still exists — just not in the shape you remember it.”

He didn’t speak. But he swallowed hard. And that was enough.

“You’ve been angry. Rightfully so. But you’ve also been hurting people who are just trying to love you.”

He blinked, his jaw tensing.

“It’s okay to be angry,” you said. “What’s not okay is using that anger to punish the wrong people.”

He let out a shaky breath.

“Uncle Jensen said something like that,” he muttered. “But he doesn’t get it.”

“He gets more than you think,” you said. “But he’s not the one you want to hear it from. Not right now.”

Gus looked away.

“You’re mad,” you said softly. “At everyone. At your mom for crying and raging and trying to drag you into her grief. At your dad for being the one that walked. At Bonnie for showing up in the wreckage. At Jensen for choosing to be happy. At me for being here at all.”

“I’m not mad at you,” he said quickly.

You tilted your head.

“Why not?”

He hesitated. “Because… you’re not trying to fix anything. You’re just… here.”

That made your heart tighten.

“You’re not my dad’s girlfriend,” he added. “You’re not my mom’s anything. And you’re not asking me to pick a side. Uncle Jensen isn't either. I just, I can't talk to him right now about it.”

You nodded slowly. “I’m not.”

Gus looked at his hands. “They are, though.”

Your chest ached.

“My mom said Dad cheated,” he said. “Said Bonnie was part of it. Said everything fell apart because of her.”

You inhaled deeply. Carefully.

“Do you believe that?”

He looked at you. Really looked at you.

“I don’t know what to believe.”

You nodded again. “That’s fair.”

“She’s always talking about it,” he whispered. “Like… nonstop. When she thinks we’re not listening. Or when Aunt Danneel comes over and they start drinking and getting mad at nothing. They feed off eachorher. They talk about uncle Jensen. About my dad. About how they were blindsided and humiliated. Like they’re the victims.”

You said nothing, just let him speak.

“They say you and Uncle Jensen took the kids from Aunt Danneel. That your whole group broke something sacred. That Bonnie flaunted it in Mom’s face at court. That she deserved it. That she asked for it.”

His voice cracked.

“And the worst part is… I think my mom believes it. Even if it’s not true. I think she doesn’t know where to put it. So she puts it on us. But I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think Bonnie wanted to fall into this mess.”

He wiped his sleeve across his cheek quickly.

“I don’t want to hate Bonnie,” he whispered. “But it’s like they’re feeding me poison, and I keep drinking it just to keep the peace.”

You were quiet for a long time. Then you said, carefully, “What about when you’re here?”

He took a moment.

“Dad asks about us. He listens. He doesn’t talk about Mom. Just wants to know if we’re okay. He checks in. He tells me I’m doing a good job. Even when I don’t feel like I am.”

You felt something in your chest splinter.

“And he doesn’t talk bad about her. Not once. He just tries to be… I don’t know. Normal. But I see how tired he is.”

You nodded. “And Bonnie?”

“I see her trying,” he said. “I see her smile even when I know I’ve hurt her. I see how she’s careful with us. Like we’re made of glass. And maybe we are. But she’s not the villain they say she is. I just…”

He looked down.

“I want to believe my dad. I want to believe Uncle Jensen. But I live with Mom. I hear everything. And I don’t know how to block it out anymore.”

You reached out, slow, and put your hand gently over his.

“You’re not supposed to know how to handle all this. You’re a kid, Gus. A good one. But you’ve been put in the middle of an adult war no one prepared you for.”

He looked at you, eyes rimmed red.

“So what do I do?”

You smiled sadly.

“You tell the truth. To yourself. You listen to your gut. You give yourself permission to love both parents — and everyone else — without needing to make one the villain.”

He closed his eyes.

“She’s not the enemy, Gus,” you whispered. “Bonnie. She’s just another person trying to pick up the pieces. Just like your dad. Just like you.”

And outside the door, Jensen exhaled shakily — the first breath he’d taken in minutes. Jeff stood beside him against the wall, arms crossed over his knees, eyes closed, jaw clenched.

Neither of them had planned to eavesdrop. But the moment they heard Gus’s voice crack, neither could walk away.

And now they were frozen — gutted — as they listened to the boy they loved admit he was breaking.

Inside, you were still speaking softly. A salve on old wounds. The only voice Gus wasn’t shutting out.

Then came footsteps. Light. Hesitant.

Bonnie.

She stopped when she saw them — the men she loved in two entirely different ways — posted like sentries outside the door of the boy who hated her most.

Jeff met her eyes first, and the pain was immediate — hot and unfiltered, blooming behind her eyes like something she couldn’t keep down any longer.

“Is he—?” she started, but her voice broke.

Jensen turned, his expression unreadable.

“He’s listening to her,” he said.

Bonnie looked at the door. Like maybe she could will herself through it. Or maybe she just wanted to disappear.

“I shouldn’t have pushed him this morning,” she whispered. “I keep trying and trying and all I do is make him hate me more.”

Jeff stepped forward, instinctively, his voice low and careful.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“Jeff,” she said, shaking her head. “You didn’t hear him.”

“Stella did,” Jensen said, looking at her. “All of it. She called me.”

Her eyes darted to him. “And?”

“And he’s fifteen. His whole world blew up. His mom is feeding him poison wrapped in tears, and Danneel’s sitting there pouring another glass. Like she always does.” Jensen’s voice was calm, but his eyes weren’t. They were raging. “He’s not angry at you, Bonnie. He’s angry at the silence. The lies. At all of us. Because he doesn’t know the truth.”

“I became a symbol,” she said, voice cracking. “Something to point at. The thing that broke his family.”

“You’re not,” Jeff said quickly. “You didn’t.”

But she looked at him, and this time there was no softness in her face. Only the exhaustion of months of trying to be good enough for a boy who wouldn’t let her be anything at all.

“You say that,” she said, “but even you flinch when he talks to me like that.”

Jeff flinched now, for real.

“I know he’s hurting,” she went on. “I know. But he gets to scream at me, and I have to smile through it. He gets to hate me, and I have to prove I’m worth loving. I didn’t cause the divorce, Jeff. But I’m the one left picking up the pieces with hands too bloodied to hold anything gently. Because his mother can’t admit she caused it.”

Jensen stepped in then, quiet but firm. “Bonnie—”

She cut him a look. “You can’t fix this, Jensen.”

He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.

She looked between them both — one man who loved her, and one who’d walked through hell beside her, with her best friend. She didn’t resent it. Not really. But this — this part of the fallout — this was hers to hold, and she was holding it alone.

Jeff reached out to touch her hand. “You don’t have to keep proving yourself.”

“I do,” she said simply. “Because Gus didn’t ask for me. And Georgie didn’t ask for me. And neither did your ex-wife. Or anyone else. I chose to be here. That means I keep choosing them. Even when they don’t choose me back.”

Just then, the doorknob turned.

The three of them froze like children caught in the dark.

The door opened slowly, and Gus stood in the doorway, hair tousled, face pale, eyes red.

He saw all three of them.

His dad.

His uncle.

Bonnie.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. His eyes flicked briefly to Bonnie, then away — not angry. Not cold. Just lost.

And Bonnie didn’t say a word. She didn’t beg. She didn’t plead. She just looked at him, eyes full of quiet agony. Willing him to see her not as the story he’d been told, but the person she really was — trying, flawed, human.

“I heard everything,” Gus said quietly.

Jeff stepped forward. “Buddy—”

“I’m not ready to talk about it,” Gus interrupted, his voice strained. “I just… I didn’t know they were lying. That Mom was lying. That she caused this. And aunt Danneel knew.”

No one corrected him.

He looked back at Bonnie.

“I don’t hate you.”

Her breath hitched.

“But I don’t know how to let go of what she told me. Of how angry I’ve been.”

“I know,” she said softly.

“I think part of me wanted someone to blame. And you were the easiest person in the room.”

“That’s okay,” she whispered.

“No,” he said, more forcefully. “It’s not.”

The hallway went still again.

“I don’t know how to undo it,” he said. “I don’t know how to go back to how it was before.”

“You don’t have to,” Bonnie said, her voice trembling. “We’re not going back. We’re going forward. Whatever that looks like.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Gus said.

And that — that was what finally shattered her.

Her hand flew to her mouth, and tears welled in her eyes as she choked back the sob rising up her throat.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she managed to say.

Jeff stepped forward and wrapped his arms around both of them, pulling Gus into his chest, one hand cupping the back of his head like when he was a little boy.

Jensen stepped back, eyes burning, giving them the space they needed.

Bonnie didn’t move. She just stood there, weeping softly — not from pain, but from the slow, almost unbearable release of it.

From finally being seen.

From being forgiven, even a little.

And from the quiet, healing truth that this boy — this angry, broken, beautiful boy — had just opened the door.

Jensen didn’t say anything. Moving to the living room.

He hadn’t realized how hard it was to breathe until he felt you behind him.

You didn’t say anything at first. You just slipped your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek between his shoulder blades. He exhaled at the contact, like he’d been holding his breath for hours and only now remembered how to let go.

“Hey,” you whispered softly.

“Hey,” he echoed, barely above a murmur.

You stayed like that for a moment — no need to fill the silence. His hands slowly moved to cover yours at his waist, fingers threading gently through yours like muscle memory. There was a quiet desperation in the way he held on. Like he was afraid if he let go, everything would break again.

You finally pulled back slightly, resting your chin on his shoulder so you could see his face.

“I don’t know how you did that. But thank you.” His voice was low and rough. “But God, it shouldn’t have taken this. It shouldn’t be this hard. He’s just a kid.”

“He’s a kid with too much noise in his head,” you said gently. “You know what that feels like.”

That hit him harder than you meant it to.

Jensen turned slightly, catching your gaze. His green eyes were tired — red-rimmed, edged with grief he hadn’t spoken aloud.

“I wanted to walk in there,” he said. “Every second of that conversation, I wanted to open that damn door and say something. Defend myself. Defend Bonnie. Defend all of us.”

You squeezed his hand.

“But you didn’t.”

“No. I didn’t,” he said. “Because you were saying all the right things. And because… Gus needed to say it out loud. All of it. And if I went in there he would have shut down.”

You studied his face, the way his brow furrowed like he was still in a war zone — a man still fighting ghosts, even in the quiet.

“You did the right thing,” you said softly.

“Still doesn’t feel like enough,” he muttered.

You reached up, fingers brushing through the short scruff of his hair, grounding him.

“You’ve done everything you could, Jensen. Everything. You chose honesty when it cost you. You chose peace when others wanted war. You chose your kids, even when it meant leaving behind everything familiar.”

He looked at you then, something shifting in his gaze. Like for a moment, he wanted to crumble.

“Did I screw them up?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “JJ, Arrow, Zep? Did I mess them up by leaving? By falling in love with you? By choosing something different?”

It wasn’t self-pity. It was fear. Deep, quiet, aching fear that he’d handed his children a broken home instead of a safe one.

You stepped closer, cupping his jaw, your voice steady. “They know love. Real love. Because of you. They know safety because you gave them that. Even if things changed. Even if it hurt. You taught them what it looks like to walk away from something that’s killing you. That’s not failure. That’s courage.”

He blinked hard. Just once. And then leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours, his hands on your waist, pulling you close like maybe you were the only thing tethering him to the ground right now.

You could feel him breathing. Every slow inhale, every tremble in his chest.

You whispered, “You’re a good man.”

“I’m a tired one,” he whispered back.

“Then let me hold you up for a while.”

He smiled, just barely — that soft, broken, grateful kind of smile that only came when everything else had been stripped away.

Then—

CRASH.

“ZEPPELIN! THAT’S MINE!” JJ yelled

“NO IT’S NOT—MOM, SHE STOLE IT FIRST!” Arrow followed.

“I DIDN’T—DAD, SHE LICKED IT AND CALLED DIBS!” Zeppelin shouted.

The balcony door banged open like a hurricane had arrived in the shape of three very opinionated children.

Jensen’s head tilted back with a groan as the voices got louder.

You smirked.

And then came JJ, storming in with righteous fury and dramatic indignation.

“Arrow took my sketchbook, and said she inspired my drawing. SHE INSPIRES NOTHING BUT CHAOS.”

Arrow, not far behind, stomped in, arms crossed, chin held high like a defiant little queen. “I am chaos. That’s called personality, JJ.”

Zeppelin, grinning like he lived for the drama, announced from the doorway. “I thought it was a robot.”

Jensen turned to you, completely deadpan. “And these are the emotionally stable ones.”

You tried not to laugh. “Welcome to normal.”

“God help us,” he muttered, stepping toward the kids as they bickered around him like orbiting satellites.

You barely made it past the turnstiles before your hand was crushing Jensen’s, fingers laced so tightly it was a miracle neither of you lost circulation. Your heart was pounding — like it knew you’d waited your whole life for this.

“We’re here,” you breathed, eyes wide, voice reverent. Like it was sacred. Like it was magic.

Jensen looked over, lips twitching like he couldn’t quite stop the grin that was spreading slowly across his face. Cool, collected, borderline smug — but underneath it?

He was melting.

“Hell yeah, we are,” he murmured, giving your hand a squeeze. “God, you look like a five-year-old who just mainlined cotton candy.”

“I feel like one,” you whispered, already spinning in a slow circle, drinking it all in. The music, the color, the popcorn smell, the castle. “I’ve never— I mean I always wanted to come here, but—”

“I know,” Jensen said, soft now. “That’s why we brought you.”

You turned to him, eyes wide.

And then—

“MOVE, PEOPLE!” Arrow’s voice shattered the moment as she sprinted forward like a mission commander. “Rise of the Resistance first! I’ve had this planned since Tuesday!”

“Tuesday last week,” JJ muttered, marching right beside her with a backpack filled with snacks and laminated plans. “You said Space Mountain was the priority.”

“Plans evolve, JJ! This is war!”

Zeppelin trailed behind them both, sunglasses too big for his face, dragging a massive Stitch plush under one arm and a park map in the other. “Why are we yelling?”

“I’m not yelling,” Arrow yelled. “I’m leading!”

Meanwhile, from a few feet behind, Jeff wrapped an arm around Bonnie’s shoulders, pulling her into a quick side-hug. She was smiling — wide, breathless, nervous. It was her first time too.

“Are you gonna cry?” you asked, bumping her shoulder gently.

“I might,” Bonnie admitted, eyes already misty as she looked up at the castle. “I didn’t know it would actually feel like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like… safe.”

You reached out, tangled your fingers with hers for a second, and gave her that look — the one that said, I get it. All of it.

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll ugly cry first and make you look composed.”

From the side, Jensen was watching the two of you, arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. Jeff noticed.

“They’re gonna cry in every land, aren’t they?” he asked under his breath.

“Yep,” Jensen said, popping the “p.” “And we’re gonna be holding the snacks, the bags, and their sunglasses while they do.”

“You complaining?”

Jensen shrugged, glancing back at you as you giggled your way into another twirl on Main Street.

“Not a damn bit,” he said.

You were only ten minutes in and already losing your entire mind.

From the characters walking around, to the cotton candy vendors, to the marching band playing a jazz version of “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” — you were in a constant state of “OH MY GOD, LOOK.”

Bonnie was right there with you. You both gasped at the castle. Nearly screamed when you saw Belle. Got misty-eyed walking through Fantasyland. Jensen was fully playing it cool, sunglasses on, hoodie sleeves rolled to his elbows, sipping coffee like he wasn’t secretly living for your reactions.

“I can feel you watching me,” you accused as you came out of Peter Pan’s Flight.

“I’m allowed to enjoy my girlfriend being adorable,” he said easily, sliding his arm around your waist. “Eight months in and you’re still hitting new levels of cute. Impressive, really.”

“You gonna cry if Mickey waves at me?”

“He already did. I held it together. Barely.” He smiled making you giggle.

Behind you, Georgie was skipping between Bonnie and Jeff, holding both their hands and pointing out every single detail — “That lamp is lit because of Walt Disney,” she explained solemnly. “Arrow said so. She googled it.”

Gus, tall and quiet, kept a few steps back, sunglasses on, hoodie up — classic teen stealth mode — but even he wasn’t immune to the mood. You caught him smiling when Zep offered him a bite of his churro like it was a peace treaty.

You grinned and nudged Jensen. “They’re gonna be okay, you know.”

“I know,” he said softly, watching Gus glance over at Bonnie and not scowl for once. “Just gonna take time. Just like it took all of us.”

The rest of the day blurred into joy.

You rode everything.

Space Mountain. Indiana Jones. The teacups. The carousel. Jensen and Zep got dangerously competitive on Astro Blasters.

“Did you just elbow me for a better score?” Jensen shouted.

“You’ll never prove it in court,” Zep replied, deadpan.

Georgie climbed into Jeff’s lap during the Tiki Room and promptly fell asleep. Bonnie looked like she was trying not to cry for the sixth time. JJ led the churro tour of the park with all the confidence of a general. Arrow lost her voice and still didn’t stop screaming.

You sobbed through the fireworks. Jensen kissed your temple and whispered, “God, I love you like this. Just wide open and glowing.”

And even Gus — even Gus — laughed when Zep accidentally dropped Dole Whip on his own shoe.

By the end of the night, kids were all piled onto a bench just past the castle — everyone half-asleep, half-delirious, clinging to souvenir bags and leftover popcorn.

Jensen had his arm around you. Your cheek was on his shoulder.

Bonnie was leaning on Jeff, Georgie asleep in her lap.

JJ was braiding Arrow’s hair for no reason. Zep was already halfway to dreaming.

And Gus?

Gus looked up at the glowing castle one last time, then over at Bonnie and Jeff. He didn’t say anything.

But he didn’t look away either.

And that alone?

It was something.

Jensen nudged you then, making you look up at him with a bright exhausted smile.

“God, you’re so happy,” he said, eyes warm.

“I am happy,” you breathed. “Like… really happy.”

He kissed you then, in the middle of the walkway, just long enough for JJ to groan and for Zep to mutter something about PDA laws.

You didn’t care.

Once you were back at the house, you’d grown the kids to bed, teeth brushed, and hair braided back.

Slowly walking up the stairs. Your entire body hurt.

The bath was his idea.

He ran it for both of you, low lights and quiet music, the kind that felt like background noise for dreams. He added the fancy bath salts you bought on a whim — the ones he pretended to scoff at but always used twice as much of.

You slid into the water, a soft sigh leaving your lips as heat met skin. He joined you a moment later, arms and legs tangling beneath the surface until you didn’t know where he ended and you began.

For a while, it was just soft splashes. Quiet hums. His fingers brushing lazy circles on your thigh.

“I’ve never had a day like that,” you said softly, head resting back against his shoulder. “Not ever.”

His voice was low. “You deserved ten of them.”

You shook your head a little. “I used to think that kind of happiness was for other people.”

He kissed the side of your head, lips lingering. “It was always for you. The world just took its time.”

You swallowed, throat thick with emotion. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to have this. With someone. With kids. With—” You broke off, blinking at the tears that came out of nowhere.

Jensen turned you gently in his arms, hands finding your face as his forehead pressed to yours.

“You have it,” he whispered. “All of it. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Later, wrapped in blankets and cotton, you lay on the big bed in the quiet room, legs tangled with his. The air smelled like soap and the faint citrus of whatever lotion you’d rubbed into his shoulders when he groaned about his back.

He was on his side, arm tucked under his head, watching you like he didn’t want to blink.

“You know what I thought when I saw you today?” he murmured, fingers brushing your hip.

“What?”

He smiled, slow and soft and real. “That you looked like joy in human form. Like you belonged in that world. And I thought—”

He paused, eyes suddenly glassy.

“I thought, God, I want to give her every day like this for the rest of her life.”

Your breath caught.

You blinked at him, heart in your throat.

You didn’t speak. You just leaned in, cupped his face with both hands, and kissed him. Long and slow. Not rushed. Not hungry. Just… full.

Full of everything you didn’t have the words for yet.

He pulled you tighter when you broke away, burying his face in the crook of your neck, exhaling like the world could finally stop spinning.

“I love you,” he said, not even a whisper. A truth.

You smiled into his hair. “I love you, too.”

And in the silence that followed, it settled.

No cameras. No makeup. No castle lights.

Just you. Just him.

And everything real between you.

Jensen leaned against the tailgate of a prop truck, sunglasses low on his nose, sipping what had to be his third black coffee of the morning. He looked every bit the seasoned actor on day three of a new block — calm, cool, annoyingly good hair — but the slight bounce in his knee said otherwise.

“You’re twitching again,” Jessica said, squinting at him. “Are you trying to vibrate into another timeline, or…?”

“I’m not twitching,” Jensen replied, deadpan, taking another sip.

“You’re absolutely twitching,” Uli chimed in, flipping a page of his sides without looking up. “That’s your ‘I’ve got a secret and no one can know but I really want someone to ask’ bounce.”

“Maybe he’s just sore from Disney,” Violet teased, walking up with a banana and a look that said she knew exactly what she was doing. “Didn’t you say you spent seven hours standing in line and pretending Dole Whip is a full meal?”

“Don’t knock Dole Whip until you’ve had it with rum,” Jensen muttered, adjusting his sunglasses. “And Stella and the kids loved it. That’s what matters.”

Eric raised an eyebrow from his perch on an apple box. “So how is the whirlwind romance going? You still riding that ‘I can’t believe I found the love of my life’ high?”

Jensen cracked a grin. “You mean the one where I wake up and she’s still next to me and I keep wondering what I did in a past life to deserve this?”

“Exactly that one.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jensen said, smug now. “That one’s still going strong.”

Elliot, sitting cross-legged on a crate, looked up from his phone. “You know, when I met you, you were surviving on vending machine pretzels and divorce paperwork.”

“And wearing the same flannel four days in a row,” Jessica added.

“Hey,” Jensen said, pointing at them with his cup. “That flannel got me through custody hearings and two brutal pilot seasons. Show some respect.”

They all laughed, and for a moment, it was just easy — the morning calm before shooting picked up, the crew doing final lighting checks behind them, the actors in that limbo space between real life and rolling.

Then—

“Someone order a vaguely confused angel with great hair?” a familiar voice called.

Jensen looked up, and his smile broke instantly into something wider, younger.

“Misha!” he called, standing straighter. “Get your weird ass over here!”

Misha strolled across the lot in sunglasses and a gray hoodie like he was just passing through on a coffee run. But the small box in Jensen’s pocket said otherwise.

“This can’t be real, you’re always on the other side of the world when we plan to meet up.” Jensen said as they hugged briefly — shoulder slaps and all.

“Oh, it’s very real,” Misha replied. “I’m here for the goods.”

“You brought him a care package?” Violet asked.

“Even better,” Jensen said, lowering his voice slightly but not nearly enough. He pulled the small velvet box from the inside pocket of his jacket. “He’s the mule.”

Five heads whipped around.

“Wait. Mule for what?” Eric asked suspiciously.

Jensen popped the box open with a low whistle. “This.”

Gasps.

Jessica nearly choked on her water bottle. “Is that an engagement ring?!”

Misha raised his brows. “Damn, Jay. You weren’t kidding. Why do you want to change it? It’s perfect.”

It was simple. Elegant. The diamond caught the morning light like it had been waiting for it. A perfect emerald cut, one carat, stunning clarity, set on a slim, plain gold band. Not loud. Not flashy. But undeniably beautiful — like Stella.

“She likes silver, and she deserves the best. I’m giving her the best.”

Uli leaned in, wide-eyed. “That’s not just an engagement ring. That’s a plot twist.”

“I thought you said you were just taking her to Disney,” Violet gaped. “Not, like… proposing marriage sometime in the near future?!”

“I did take her to Disney. And now I’m sending this off to get customized before she finds it in my sock drawer.”

Misha nodded. “She’s not going to find it in my sock drawer. I don’t even own socks.”

“That’s somehow not comforting,” Jensen muttered, snapping the box shut and handing it to Misha like he was passing off state secrets.

“So wait,” Elliot said slowly, blinking. “You’re actually doing it? You’re proposing? Like, soon?”

Jensen looked up at them — at this cast of friends who’d seen him at his worst, his messiest, his most heartbroken — and nodded once, simply.

“Yeah,” he said. “She’s it.”

A beat of silence.

Then: chaos.

Jessica screamed. Violet jumped up and down. Uli shouted something. Eric clapped like a proud uncle. Elliot just shook his head, grinning.

“You really turned it around,” Elliot said, half-laughing. “From Flannel Sadness to Full Romance Arc.”

Jensen grinned. “Hey, sometimes the second act’s the best part.”

Misha, still holding the ring box like it might explode, tilted his head. “You sure she’s gonna say yes?”

Everyone looked at him like he was insane.

“Dude,” Eric said. “Have you seen the way she looks at him?”

“She already did say yes,” Violet added. “With her soul.”

“I’m just saying, I’d like a little dramatic tension,” Misha deadpanned. “Maybe she keeps him waiting a day. Maybe she proposes first. Keeps the audience guessing.”

Jensen just shook his head, a soft smile creeping back in. “Nah. She’s gonna cry. I’m gonna cry. One of the kids is gonna interrupt us mid-proposal. It’ll be chaos.”

“Romantic chaos,” Jessica grinned.

“Exactly,” Jensen said.

And with that, Misha gave a two-fingered salute, slipped the box into his hoodie pocket, and said, “Alright. Off to deliver the goods to the ring wizards. Tell her I said hi. And also nothing. Can’t let her know.”

“Not a word,” Jensen smirked. “See you soon, man.”

As Misha walked off, the Countdown cast all looked at Jensen like they were seeing him in a new light.

“You really love her,” Violet said, smiling.

“Yeah,” Jensen said simply, adjusting his sunglasses again. “I really do.”

And just like that, someone yelled “First team to set!” — and the magic of real life made way for the magic of television.

But for Jensen?

The real magic was still waiting back at that house in the hills — and now, a velvet box was officially on its journey to becoming forever.

Bonnie pressed the heels of her hands into the cool porcelain sink, breathing through her mouth and trying not to throw up.

Again.

The hotel bathroom was quiet in that fake, sterile way that made her skin crawl. Too clean. Too still. Like it didn’t want to acknowledge what was currently sitting on the edge of the counter between a bag of travel-sized mouthwash and a makeup bag she hadn’t even opened yet.

The pregnancy test blinked up at her like it knew it had her by the throat.

Positive.

Her stomach dropped again. She couldn’t tell if it was from the nausea or the panic, or the way her heart wouldn’t stop pounding in her ears.

She was late. A week at first. Then nine days. Then… a full eleven. She’d chalked it up to stress, travel, a handful of early mornings getting Jeff’s two kids ready while he went to hang around set and see Jensen film. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been tired — everyone was tired. It was LA. It was spring break. It was life.

But now, with the test flashing its quiet, undeniable truth, Bonnie wasn’t tired. She was shaking.

She sat down on the toilet lid and blinked hard, suddenly too warm. Jeff was downstairs with Gus and Georgie — he’d taken them out for bagels and smoothies before the lunch plans she had with Stella and the kids.

She didn’t even feel pregnant. Wasn’t that supposed to be a thing? Cravings? Boobs hurting? Emotional commercials?

She felt like someone had sucker-punched her from the inside out.

Jeff was 59. Newly divorced. Still licking wounds from a marriage that burned itself down. He didn’t want more kids. He’d said that, offhand, one night after a few too many bourbons when he thought she was asleep.

And she… she wanted to be a mom more than she’d ever admitted out loud.

Now, here she was, staring at a piece of plastic that had just rewired her entire life.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She just… moved. DoorDash’d a ginger shot with the test for plausible deniability in the receipt. Brushed her teeth. Pulled on jeans and her sunglasses. And walked out the hotel door with a secret that felt louder than any paparazzi camera on Rodeo.

The place was casual but cute, tucked into a leafy patio with mismatched chairs and fruit water in glass jars. Stella was already seated when Bonnie arrived, her hair up in a messy bun, sunglasses pushed on top of her head. The kids were at a table next to them, JJ sitting, drawing on a napkin while Arrow and Georgie shared a lemonade like it was state property. Zeppelin and Gus were debating whether or not to get fries.

It felt normal.

Until Stella looked up at her — and instantly tilted her head.

Bonnie didn’t sit. She slid into the chair slowly, moving like her bones were hollow.

“You okay?” Stella asked softly, like she already knew.

Bonnie didn’t answer.

Instead, she leaned forward, elbows on the table, and whispered under her breath.

“I’m pregnant.”

Stella blinked.

JJ’s crayon paused mid-swoop. Georgia was still sipping through her straw like it might make her invisible. Gus definitely heard. Zeppelin’s eyebrows went straight to his hairline. But only Stella saw that.

She’d tell them to keep it a secret after she talked to Bonnie.

“What?” Stella breathed.

Bonnie nodded once voice dropping more. “This morning. I—I didn’t feel right. I tested while getting Georgie’s hair in a braid and—yeah. It’s real.”

Stella didn’t scream. Didn’t flinch. Just reached across the table and took her hand, squeezing it tight.

“Oh, honey,” she whispered. “Okay. Okay. First things first: breathe.”

Bonnie’s lip trembled. “He doesn’t want more kids.”

“Then he’s going to have to grow the hell up,” Stella said immediately. Calm. Certain. Fierce like only a best friend could be. “He loves you. That’s not in question. But if he thinks he’s going to get to love you and ignore this—then he’s out of his damn mind.”

Bonnie blinked. “What if he freaks out?”

Stella smiled, tight but strong. “He will. I don’t doubt that for a second. And you’re gonna fight.” She said softly. Shaking her head.

“Then Jensen’s going to freak out right back at him. Because Jeff doesn’t get to step out of this. Jensen won’t let him. We won’t let him. You deserve this. You don’t get to be told what to do. Do you hear me?”

“Yes”

Bonnie laughed — wet and broken but real.

“He’s going to have to step up,” Stella continued, squeezing again. “Because you’re the best damn thing to happen to him in a decade. And if he can’t see that? We will make him. Together.”

There was a beat of silence.

Stella looked over at the table, all eyes on them now.

“We need to keep this secret until Bonnie can tell Jeff okay? She’s scared.”

But Stella didn’t realize it was too late. Gus pulled out his phone and texted someone under the table.

“Who—” Bonnie began.

Gus looked up, expression way too panicked for a fifteen year old..

“Dad.”

“Oh my God.”

Jeff stared at the wall like it had personally betrayed him.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands gripping his knees, jaw locked like someone had just told him the earth was flat. Or that flannel had gone out of style.

Georgie had walked in, handed him a lemonade. And said nothing before going to her room in the suit with Arrow.

Zeppelin followed Gus to his talking about a video game. And it was quiet for a beat.

He didn’t know where Bonnie or Stella were just that Gus said he was watching the twins.

And now here he was.

Heart racing. Mind spinning. Breathing like it might betray him any second.

He was fifty-nine. He was done with diapers. He was a whole month out of a divorce that left bruises where no one could see. He hadn’t even wrapped his head around loving again, let alone fatherhood.

Again.

He didn’t want more kids. He was done. He’d just freaked out because Jensen said at 48 he wanted another.

How could he think that at almost sixty?

He didn’t even realize he’d texted Jensen until he heard the knock at the door.

“Come in,” he muttered.

Jumping slightly.

Jensen walked in with a look that said, “So this is the part where I give you tough love.”

Jeff didn’t look at him.

“I can’t do this again,” he said. “I’m almost sixty. She’s thirty. She deserves—hell, she deserves someone who planned for this.”

“You didn’t plan for her either,” Jensen said flatly. “And look how that turned out.”

Jeff looked up. His eyes were rimmed red, but he hadn’t broken. Yet.

“I don’t want more kids.”

“You don’t get to decide that now Jeff. I told you I’ll go to war for her. Time to buckle up, and ride it out because I’ll be damned if she gets hurt because you decided her fucking fate..”

“She’s going to want to keep it.”

“You knocked her up. She’s always wanted to be a mom. End of story. Time to plan a baby shower bud. She's keeping it whether you like it or not. I’ll make sure of that so will Stella.”

Silence. Thick. Final.

Then Jensen stepped forward and sat down on the bed beside him.

“You love her?” He asked softly.

Jeff swallowed hard. Nodded. “Yeah.”

“You think she’s strong?”

“She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

“Then show up like she deserves. Scared or not. Ready or not. You love her? You step up. For her, for that baby, what you wanted isnt what fate decided Jeff you have no option here. Wondering what you’re gonna do won’t change what I’m saying. Be mad, but I’m not letting you back out. I’ll kick your fucking ass.”

“No you won’t.”

“I’ll do it right fucking now if you want to test me? I mean it. She’s not doing this alone. You are just as much in this as she is.”

Jeff let out a long, shaking breath. “What if I mess it up?”

“You will,” Jensen said. “We all do. But not showing up? That’s how you really blow it. Two weeks ago you were asking me what the fuck I was thinking. And right now I’m thinking. If Stella told me today she was pregnant. I’d scream it from the mountains. That’s how much I love her.”

There was silence again — the kind that cracked something open.

And Jeff’s voice finally broke when he whispered:

“She’s gonna be a great mom.”

“Who?”

“Both of them.”

Jensen smiled gently.

“Yeah, man. They are.”

The restaurant was quiet. Low lights. Small tables. The kind of place where everything felt like it might break if you breathed too hard.

Bonnie was already seated when Jeff walked in, hair pinned up from earlier, nails freshly painted some soft dusty rose. Her eyes tracked him the second he entered — tense, unreadable, almost too still. Stella had offered to take the kids, to give them space. JJ even looped her arm around Bonnie’s and whispered, “We’ve got you,” as they left.

Now, the weight of this sat between her and Jeff like a third person at the table.

Jeff looked wrecked. Hands shoved into his jacket pockets. Eyes dark, shoulders drawn tight like he was bracing for impact. He didn’t sit right away — just stared at her for a second like he didn’t recognize her. Or maybe he didn’t recognize himself at that moment.

“I didn’t tell Gus,” Bonnie said first, before he could even open his mouth. “Or Georgie. I swear.”

“I know,” Jeff said, voice flat and too fast. “He told me. Said you were just talking to Stella and they overheard.”

Bonnie nodded. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like that.”

“Well,” Jeff said sharply, pulling the chair back. “It did.”

That landed harder than she expected.

He sat, too loud for such a quiet place, and immediately scrubbed a hand down his face. He looked exhausted. Maybe he was. But so was she.

“You’re mad,” she said quietly.

Jeff laughed — humorless and raw. “Mad? Jesus, Bonnie. I’m not mad. I’m terrified.”

Her jaw clenched. “You think I’m not?”

He snapped.

“I think you told Stella before you told me, scared or not Bonnie that was the biggest blind side I’ve ever seen I think you look calm, like this was the greatest accident you’ve been a part of—”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” she hissed, sharp and sudden. “I’m sitting here holding it together, Jeff. Because I have to. Because if I fall apart, then everything falls apart. So don’t mistake my quiet for calm. I told my best friend because I fucking needed her.”

He flinched.

Jeff rubbed his face with both hands. “I’m not doing this right now. Not like this.”

“You’re already doing it,” she snapped. “Don’t act like I planned any of this. I didn’t. I’m just trying to—”

“—Control the fallout?” he cut in, bitter. “Well too late for that, sweetheart. You’re pregnant and my son knows before I do.”

Bonnie blinked. The use of “sweetheart” felt like a slap — too sharp, too cold.

“I found out this morning, Jeff,” she hissed. “This morning. I haven’t even processed it yet, and you’re acting like I staged a coup.”

“I told you,” he said through gritted teeth, voice low and shaking. “I told you I didn’t want more kids. We talked about this.”

“No,” she said, sitting straighter. “You said it once. In passing. While drunk. After your divorce papers were signed. That’s not a plan. That’s a trauma response.”

He flinched. His mouth opened like he wanted to fight back, but she didn’t give him the chance.

“And I didn’t want this either not like this,” she said, voice cracking now. “Do you think I’m some fucking idiot who poked holes in condoms and started picking out nursery paint behind your back?”

“I never said—”

“You didn’t have to,” she interrupted. “I can see it all over your face. Like this is some trap. Like I’m just another mess you walked into.”

That stopped him.

She leaned in, fury burning in her throat now. “I have bent over backwards trying not to make you feel trapped. I never asked you to change your mind. I never brought up anything that would push you. I never push. Because I know what you’re carrying.”

Silence.

“And now, I’m pregnant,” she said. “Scared. Alone. And still trying to protect you. Do you have any idea how backwards that is?”

Jeff looked like he couldn’t breathe. His fingers twitched on the edge of the table like he didn’t know whether to reach for her or run.

She kept going, softer now, but just as sharp.

“You want me?” she whispered.

He nodded once. Jerky. Shaky.

“Then show it,” she said. “Not with flowers. Not with sex. Show it by standing up when it’s hard. When it’s ugly. When it’s not what you wanted.”

He didn’t answer.

She stood.

“I’m not asking you to want this right now. I’m asking you to stop making me the villain in something we both created.”

“Bonnie—” His voice cracked, but she held up a hand.

“No. You don’t get to talk until you know if you’re in or out. I’m not begging, Jeff. I’ve done enough of that in my life.”

She looked down at him — a man she loved more than she ever meant to. A man who was breaking right in front of her. A man she couldn’t save unless he chose to stand up on his own.

Then, quietly:

“I’m keeping the baby.”

And with that, she walked out the door.

He didn’t hesitate.

He didn’t have to.

He loved her. And loving her meant fighting for her. Even with something he didn’t want. It was here now. He didn’t have a choice.

They were having a baby.

So he ran after her. Out of that little place, down the block. Yelling her name.

She didn’t turn at first.

But when she did it cracked

“Bonnie!”

She froze halfway down the sidewalk. Didn’t turn. Just closed her eyes.

“Bonnie, please.”

She spun around. Jeff was jogging up behind her, breath tight, face flushed.

“You don’t get to come after me now,” she said, arms crossed, voice shaking. “Not after that.”

He stopped a few feet away, hands raised like she might actually bolt. “I’m sorry. I was a dick. I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to make you feel like this was a disaster.”

“But you do think that,” she bit out. “You sat there and made me feel like a problem, Jeff. Like some mistake you can’t believe you made.”

His mouth opened, closed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“But it’s what you felt.”

He hesitated. “Yeah,” he said finally, eyes haunted. “Yeah, I freaked the hell out. You want honesty? That’s it. I freaked out. This scares the shit out of me.”

“Why?” she whispered. “Because I’m younger? Because you’re already a dad? Because it wasn’t supposed to get this serious?”

“Because I love you,and that scares the shit out of me.” he snapped, before he could stop himself. “And I wasn’t ready. Because I just got out of a marriage that wrecked me. Because I feel like I barely survived it. And now I’ve got this—this beautiful woman who just turned my whole fucking world upside down, and I can’t lose her. I won’t.”

Tears spilled now. Silent. Angry. She swiped at her cheeks.

“You love me,” she said. “But when I told you I was carrying your child, the first thing you did was make it about you.”

Jeff swallowed hard. “I know.”

“You should have stood up,” she said, voice hollow. “Not shut down.”

“I’m not proud of it.”

“No,” Bonnie said, stepping back. “But you meant it. And that’s the part I don’t know how to get past yet.”

They stood there in the dark, cars passing, voices echoing from the restaurant patio. Just the two of them in the middle of a crossroads.

Jeff took one breath. Then another.

“I’m not going to beg,” he said quietly. “But I am going to say this: I love you. I want you. And even if I don’t know how the hell to do this again… I’m going to learn.”

Bonnie didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Her throat was too full.

But Jeff’s voice softened. Rough. Real.

“You don’t have to forgive me tonight. Or tomorrow. But I want to be there. I want to try. I just—” He looked down, then up again, voice cracking. “Don’t shut me out before I can make it right.”

She stared at him, unsure whether to scream or fall into his arms.

So instead, she said the only thing that felt honest.

“I don’t know what I need yet.”

Jeff nodded slowly. “Then I’ll wait.”

She turned again, quieter this time, toward the hotel. This time, she didn’t run.

And this time, he followed — not because he knew what came next.

But because he finally understood that being there was the only place to start.

“I’m staying with Jensen and Stella tonight. They have the kids. I just—I need time.” Bonnie said softly as she stood at the end of the bed.

“Can I say something first?”

Jeff was sitting on the edge, head in his hands, he looked up at her quickly.

When he looked at her — really looked — he saw it then: the shimmer behind her eyes, the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers were trembling. She was barely holding it together. Just like him.

But she nodded.

“I didn’t want more kids,” Jeff said softly, barely a whisper. “I thought I was done. That I was… past that part of life.”

“And I always thought I’d get to be a mom,” Bonnie said, voice breaking. “I didn’t think it’d look like this. Or like us. But it’s here now.”

Silence stretched.

Jeff leaned back a little, shoulders caving in. “Jensen told me I don’t get to step out of this.”

Bonnie blinked.

“Said if I even try, he’s gonna beat the hell outta me. Which… honestly, not totally convinced he’s kidding.”

A breath of laughter escaped her lips — the first real one since the morning. But her eyes were still wet.

“He told me if I love you,” Jeff continued, his voice tighter now. “And I do. That it’s not even a question.”

“But—” Bonnie started.

“I’m scared,” Jeff said. “Of messing this up. Of not being what you or that baby need. I’m not twenty-five anymore, Bonnie. Hell, I’m not even forty-five. I’ve got baggage and bruises and a track record that says I don’t do this right.”

Bonnie folded her arms.

“Then we do it scared. Together.”

He stared at her hand, then up into her face.

“Even if it’s a mess?” he asked.

“Especially then.”

Jeff’s jaw worked as if he was trying to swallow a thousand things at once — fear, guilt, love. Then finally, finally, he stood in front of her. And he took her hands fully in his and held on like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I want this to be different,” he said.

Bonnie nodded, voice soft. “It already is.”

Silence again. But this one was warm.

Safe.

Jeff let out a long, shaky breath and then, without thinking, leaned forward to press a kiss to her knuckles.

“I still feel like I’m drowning,” he whispered.

“I know,” Bonnie said. “But I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere. I just need time.”

His shoulders slumped as something heavy gave way inside him — not completely, not all at once, but enough.

And there, in a quiet room lit by a single lamp, and whispered confessions, Bonnie and Jeff stared at eachother. She could feel them mending slowly. Not as a casual love. Not as a fling born of timing and charm.

But as two people facing down the storm.

Together

“Please don’t leave tonight. I need you.” Jeff whispered.

And she didn’t. Because of all the love stories she’d been a part of in her life, he was the one she felt in her bones.

He needed her. That was new. Bonnie wasn’t used to being needed. She knew Jensen would have his say. He was like an older brother now.

Weird considering where her life was 8 months ago. But, she knew he had her best interests at heart.

So she stayed. Distant yes. She still needed time and Bonnie wasn’t one to give in easily.

“I love you sweetheart, I’m sorry I’m just now saying it. I needed to know for sure. And I have for a while.” She heard staring at the cracked opened bathroom door in the dark that night.

Silent tears fell then. Her hand clutching her shirt right over where the baby was.

She didn’t respond. Not tonight. Tonight was too much already.

Jeff was in a Zoom meeting — something about producers and a pitch for a guest spot. He’d asked Bonnie to grab Gus and Georgie from Jensen and Stella’s place where they’d spent the afternoon baking cookies, riding scooters in the driveway, and, apparently, turning the living room into a LEGO minefield.

Bonnie could hear faint laughter as she pushed the door open.

The smell of brown sugar and something buttery drifted through the entryway.

Georgie’s pink sneakers were kicked off just inside the door, next to Gus’s giant Converse. The noise of cartoons echoed from the den, and she heard Arrow yell something about cookie fairness.

But it was quiet in the kitchen — where they were.

Jensen looked up from where he was leaning against the island, a fresh beer in one hand, a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. He didn’t say anything. Just offered that easy, Jensen-ish smile — calm, warm, grounded.

Stella was at the counter, slicing strawberries with the kind of gentle efficiency that said I’ve been waiting for you.

“Hey,” Bonnie said, voice quieter than she meant.

“Hey, mama,” Stella replied without missing a beat, eyes flicking up just long enough to smile — soft, solid, real. “Kids are in the den. Arrow is running a cookie-based democracy. It’s getting cutthroat.”

Jensen snorted. “Gus staged a rebellion over chocolate chip ratios.”

Bonnie laughed, the sound coming out a little thinner than usual. She stepped fully into the kitchen and closed the back door behind her like she was trying to keep the rest of the world out.

“Thanks for watching them,” she said, slipping her bag off her shoulder. “I think Jeff might actually be allergic to confrontation with Jensen..”

“Anytime,” Jensen said simply. “They’re good kids. And he is. He just will never admit it..”

“Alright,” Stella added, setting the knife down and brushing her hands on a towel before walking toward Bonnie. “Come sit.”

Bonnie hesitated.

Jensen caught it — of course he did.

“We aren't gonna pounce,” he said gently, nodding to the kitchen table. “Just figured… maybe you’d want to talk. Or not. Either way, there’s snacks.”

Stella smirked. “Support, judgment-free advice, and cookies. The trifecta.”

Bonnie felt something loosen in her chest.

She sat.

Not all the way gracefully — her limbs still heavy with the emotional hangover of the last 24 hours — but she sat.

And then Stella did the thing that shattered her just a little: she reached across the table and simply laid her hand over Bonnie’s.

No pressure. No questions yet. Just presence. Her best friend being her best friend.

“Deep breath,” Stella said softly. “You’ve been carrying a lot.”

Bonnie nodded, her throat tight. “He freaked.”

“We figured,” Jensen said gently.

“Yelled, snapped… we both did,” she added, voice low. “I said I wanted this baby. And he said he didn’t know if he could do it. He said he didn’t want more kids. And then we just…” Her voice cracked slightly. “We hurt each other.”

Neither of them said anything right away.

Stella just kept her hand on Bonnie’s. Jensen reached forward and gently pushed a glass of water toward her.

Bonnie took it. Sipped. Breathed.

“He came back around,” she said finally. “He told me he loves me. That he’s scared, but he wants this too. That he wants me. But God… for a second there, I thought I was going to lose him before I even had the chance to hope.”

“You’re allowed to be scared,” Stella said.

“So is he,” Jensen added. “Doesn’t mean he gets to run.”

“He told me you said that,” Bonnie said with a small, tired smile. “Said you’d kick his ass if he didn’t step up.”

Jensen grinned. “Still on the table.”

“Jensen,” Stella warned, trying not to laugh.

“I’m just saying,” he said, holding up his hands. “If he needs an accountability beating, I’m available.”

That pulled a full laugh from Bonnie this time — short and startled and relieved. Like she hadn’t realized how badly she needed someone to hold the line for her.

“I want this baby,” she said, the truth slipping out before she could overthink it. “More than anything.”

“Then you’re gonna have it,” Stella said, eyes fierce. “And we’re gonna be right here the whole time.”

“Yeah,” Jensen added, casually like he was talking about the weather. “This baby’s already got an army.”

Bonnie nodded, pressing her fingers to her eyes, not to cry — not really — just to exhale.

“You’re not alone, Bon,” Stella said, her voice lower now, just for her. “You’ve got Jeff, messy as he is. And you’ve got us. Always.”

From the other room, Georgie yelled something about Jensen cheating at Mario Kart.

Stella grinned. Jensen sighed.

“I didn’t cheat, I just strategically employed red shells,” he called back.

Bonnie looked between them, heart full — still aching, still scared, but not alone anymore.

Not even close.

“If you told me a year ago, I’d be pregnant with Jeff’s baby and you two were the power couple of the century I would have admitted myself in to the loony bin.”

“We would have been straight jacket twins sister. Padded room and everything." Stella grinned back at her. Jensen shaking his head.

“A year ago you were swapping fantasies about me.” He chuckled.

“Shut the fuck up Jensen.” They both burst in to laughter with him.

Bonnie was gonna be alright.

This baby was going to be loved.

Then the door opened.

Jensen looked up first.

Bonnie didn’t turn around. Not yet. But she felt the change in the air. Like gravity had just shifted slightly.

Stella followed Jensen’s line of sight, then nudged Bonnie gently under the table with her knee.

“Hey,” Jensen said, not smiling, not frowning. Just… present. Solid. “You found us.”

Jeff hovered in the doorway, baseball cap in one hand, keys in the other.

He looked older today. Less like the movie star. More like the man who hadn’t slept right in a week.

“Hey,” Jeff said. Voice rough. Honest. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” Stella said softly. “Kids are in the backyard. I think Zep’s trying to teach Georgie how to skateboard with a frying pan.”

Bonnie finally turned.

She looked at him — and God, it nearly knocked him out.

Because she looked like his. Even after everything.

She didn’t smile, but she didn’t look away.

“You okay?” she asked. Quiet.

Jeff nodded once. “Working on it.”

A beat.

“I, uh… I just got done with my meeting early. Thought maybe I could… spend the day with you and the kids.”

Bonnie’s fingers tapped once on the mug. Then stilled.

“They’re your kids honey, whatever you want,” she said.

Jeff’s breath escaped him in something close to a sigh.

Stella stood up. Gently, intentionally. “I’m gonna… go make sure Arrow hasn’t tied anyone to the swing set.”

Jensen followed, but not before giving Jeff one long, quiet look.

A look that said, You stepped up. Good.

No words. Just trust.

And then it was just Bonnie and Jeff.

He stepped further in, letting the door fall shut behind him.

“This is our life we’re building. They may be mine by blood, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t yours too. You love them. And this one—“ he placed his hand over her lowery abdomen then. “This one’s ours.”

“I know.”

“I’m not gonna pretend I’ve got this figured out,” he said, voice low. “I wake up every morning and still feel like I’m in free fall. But I don’t want to do this from across a parking lot, Bonnie. I want to do it with you.”

Her eyes flicked to his. “You scared?”

“Out of my damn mind,” he said, without hesitation.

She smiled, barely. “Good. Me too.”

After a moment, she laid her hand on his — light, easy. But real.

“I don’t need you to be fearless,” she said. “Just honest. Just here.”

“I can do that,” Jeff said. “Even if I fumble every damn day.”

Bonnie looked down at their hands. “Then let’s fumble together.”

From outside, the sound of a kid yelling something triumphant rang through the yard.

Inside, everything settled.

They were still scared. Still raw.

But together.

And that was more than enough to begin.

“I love you too by the way.” Bonnie whispered.

A/n: this ain’t my greatest. I’ve been sick as hell. And life just throwing curve balls. But THE BEER IDEA IS MINE IN TRADEMARKING IT AND ILL PRESENT IT TO JENSEN ONE DAY. maybe probably not I’ll die in front of him anyway. It’s mine thanks 🤣❤️

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@jensen-timetraveling-wife

@candy-coated-misery0731

@lovelywebber

@deansimpalababy

@stoneyggirl2

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@1bucky-barnes-wife1

@hobby27

@castielscaplan

@deans-baby-momma

@imsiriuslyreal

@eagerlycyberchaos

@callsign-ember

@soullessambs

@jakiki94

#jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles #dean winchester #soldier boy #beau arlen #mark meachum #jeffrey dean morgan #jdm

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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 11 days ago

Text

𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓

PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character

STORY SUMMARY : in series masterlist

CHAPTER WARNINGS : age-gap. pining. angst. fluff. language. kevin dies.

A/N : i still get teary eyed when i see kevin’s death scene. they do my guy so dirty!

Maricela’s POV

Sunlight shines over my eyelids, lulling me out of my sleep. Warmth covers my body with a blanket, defrosting those painful hours in the Impala. I attempt to move, but a barricade stops me. I soon realize it’s not a what, but instead a who. No, it can’t be.

With my right arm tucked in, my left draped over Dean’s waist, face pressed against his clothed and hard chest. His arms wrap around my body, holding me close while our legs are intertwined. My heart quickens at our intimacy. Words can’t begin to describe how I feel, but I know I don’t want it to stop. My eyes flutter open, and I carefully shift my head to get a glimpse of the slumbering hunter.

His long eyelashes, ones I had always been envious of, lay upon his cheek. Freckles litter his eyelids, over his cheeks, and on his nose. A light stubble graces his face, one I’d be interested in seeing grow further. The worry lines he usually sports now smooth on his tired countenance. He looks at peace. He looks perfect. I study his face, knowing it would be the first and last time we’d be this close. The longer I watched him sleep, the more I realized he could open his eyes at any given moment and catch me staring. So, with much resistance, I turn away and nuzzle back into his chest, falling into a deep sleep.

Dean’s POV

I begin to stir, but something holds me in place. My brows furrow, brain fogged with sleep, yet curiosity slowly clears it. One by one, I open my eyes to see the sight before me. Mari was curled into my body, sleeping soundly. I’m so distracted by her closeness that I don’t realize I’m cradling her.

Our tangled bodies leave me dazed. The last person I was this intimate with was Lisa. Suddenly, a sick feeling sets in the pit of my stomach, and I can’t tell if it’s because of the memory of my old love or that I’m holding the younger girl as if I were her boyfriend. I remove my arm from around her waist and grab hers, slowly peeling it off me. She quickly pulls from my grasp and hugs me tighter.

“Please, Luke, don’t leave.”

I freeze. The desperation in her voice and the context behind her sentence break my heart. It had been so long I almost didn’t catch who she meant. Luke: the friend who was killed before her very eyes. Though so much has happened since, she never mentioned her loss, and I hadn’t thought to ask. She was a strong girl, something I wouldn’t admit out loud. One never does forget their first encounter with the supernatural, especially when it takes away someone they love. I wrap my arm around her and hold her just as close, providing whatever comfort I can in her slumber.

Whatever awkwardness I felt before disappeared the longer I held her. Knowing what it’s like to lose someone and it haunting you because you couldn’t help or it was too late…Sometimes you just need a hug. To be held. So, I provide her with solace even if she didn’t know it consciously. I rest my chin on top of her head and listen to her breathe slowly.

Somewhere along the line, I drifted to sleep. I woke to Sam nudging me with a smirk on his face. My brows had furrowed together, upset that I was awakened. I look towards Mari, who was still asleep, and wonder how I would ever live this down. Well, if she didn’t find out about it, I wouldn’t need to worry, right? Though my brother was another story.

“Dude, get up. Unless you wanna lie with her a little longer.” He teases.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.”

I unwrap from around her slowly. She looks so peaceful, I almost don’t want—

“Are you gonna wake her or do you want me to?”

“Nah, I got it.”

“Alright, I’m gonna go check on Cas.”

I barely glance at him before the door opens and shuts. The gentle slam is enough to make her jump awake, in a panicked state. She reaches underneath the pillow, searching for the weapon she hadn’t brought last night. Her wide eyes fall on me, hovering over her, and she flinches away. I lift my hands in surrender, offering a few words to ease her alertness. She squints, trying her hardest to make out my face without the assistance of her glasses.

“Oh, good, it’s just you.” She exhales.

“Who’d you think I was?” I ask as she reaches over to grab her spectacles from the nightstand.

“I don’t know. Some Big Bad that’s out to get us. I’ve learned that you and the Gentle Giant are a magnet for anything and everything supernatural, which includes anyone around you.”

“Please, you think I’d let them get to you?”

“No, I…I guess not.”

I walk towards my bag and pull out a random outfit as I ask, “How was your sleep?”

Maybe she’ll tell me about what she dreamt about.

“It was good.”

“Really?” I glance at her blank face. Even with her dreaming of her dead boyfriend?

“Y-yeah. Yours?”

‘Best I’ve gotten in years—“It was alright,” Was all I could muster.

She pushes the blanket off her, and I divert my gaze after catching a glimpse of her nearly naked legs. If I hadn’t noticed the tiny fabric underneath her oversized shirt, I would’ve assumed she wasn’t wearing any shorts. The graphic image on her shirt caught my eye. Why does it look so familiar?

“Is that my shirt?”

She stops in her tracks on the way to her duffle, peeking at the front of the black tee. “Uh, yeah, I guess it is.”

I’d recognize it anywhere. I stare at the shirt a little longer, racking my brain for a reason why she had it. Looks better on her than it ever did on me. I shake my head, hoping to shake away the thought. Realizing I’d been staring too long, I tear my gaze and focus it on the stained motel carpet.

“Sorry, you said I could keep it. I’ll give it back after I wash it.”

And that’s when it hit me. It had been so long ago that I had forgotten all about it.

“Gross!” She had cringed.

Sam and I glanced at her, taking in her bloodied appearance. The front of her shirt was soaked in crimson, and she stood in disgust. We thought we’d put down the last member of the pack, but we were mistaken when a female werewolf sprinted at Mari. The young hunter reached for her side, but with a heavy thud, they fell to the ground. Blood pooled from between their bodies and flowed onto the floor, stopping us dead in our tracks. She whimpered, her face scrunched in pain, which made us spring back into action.

We peeled the monstrosity off of her, our eyes searching for any injuries, and landed on her silver knife. The blade was coated in a scarlet hue, aimed away from her. I followed her gaze, and it landed on the fatal chest wound the werewolf sported. We released the breaths we didn’t know we were holding, realizing Mari was ok. She rested on the ground for a moment, catching her breath from the close encounter. Finally, Sam offered her a hand, and she took it.

“Fuck, we thought it got you.”

She chuckled, “Me too.”

We walked back, and I opened the trunk to Baby. Mari riffled through her bag, then exhaled an exasperated breath.

“This was my last clean shirt,” She pouted. She threw down her duffle and walked away. “Whatever.”

I grimaced before unzipping my rucksack, grabbing the first clean shirt I could find. “Here.”

She turned on her heel, her gaze falling on the balled-up fabric in my hand. Her brows drew as if she were confused by the gesture.

“You can keep it.”

“Are you sure?” The hunter asked apprehensively.

I shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Yeah, just take care of it.”

With a small smile, she took it from my outstretched hand. “Thanks.”

“No, it’s…alright. It looks better on you anyway,” The words slip out of my mouth before I can register what I was saying.

Her cheeks turn cherry pink, and I’m sure mine do too. Sam bursts through the door, stealing our attention, and I’m grateful for the distraction. He announces Castiel’s absence, and I can’t be surprised. After the talk we had last night, I was hoping he’d take the hint. My eyes drift toward Mari, observing her reaction to the news. She seems unfazed, then remembers she has to play the part.

“Maybe he got a lead. Dean’ll call him. ‘See what he can find out and if we can help.” She volunteers me, but I know she knows I wasn’t actually going to call him.

“No, yeah, right. I’ll give him a buzz. If he doesn’t answer, we’ll head back to the bunker.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. How bout you, Sam?”

The hunter’s brows knit together in concern, but he agrees.

Maricela’s POV

Ever since we came back home, I haven’t been able to get Dean out of my mind. More than usual. Maybe it was a bad idea to sleep with him. The way he clouds my senses is unhealthy. The borderline obsession could’ve warranted psychiatric help.

I figured it would be in both of our best interests for me to stay as far away from Dean until the embarrassing infatuation died down. Part of me hated myself for being so head over heels for the eldest Winchester. Sure, it was just a silly crush, but it seemed fitting as it literally crushes my soul the longer I know we could never work. Burying myself in research seemed to help distract me from thinking about Dean. It also gave me an excuse to avoid the Castiel situation. The day after we returned home, I decided to exit my room and join my bunkmates in the library.

“Hey, Mari.” Greets Kevin.

Dean looks up from his laptop, giving me a once-over before returning his attention to the news article on his screen, muttering a ‘Hey.’

“‘Sup.”

I sit in the chair beside the prophet, setting my own laptop on the table.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Went out for some fresh air. Maybe you should, too, having been cooped up in your room an entire day.”

I swallow, having been caught. “I’ve been researching the case. Check what I found.”

I turn my screen around, and his eyes skim the title. With a blank face, he reveals his article: they were the exact same one.

“Well, fuck me.”

“Did you see the biker’s obituaries?”

“Yeah. Went to tell Sam about it yesterday, but it seemed like you guys had already cracked it. So, yay me, late to every party.”

He chuckles before I turn my interest to Kevin.

“How’s it going?”

“There may be nothing in here,” He confesses as he studies the tablet. “Crowley said the spell that cast down the angels was irreversible.”

“Yeah, well, screw Crowley,” the Winchester chimes in. “Why would you think that anything he says is true?”

“This part is nearly indecipherable. Almost like when Metatron wrote it down, he wanted to keep the words hidden, even from prophets.”

Sam walks in, and Dean jumps to share the news. “Hey. Check this out. Another angel attack.”

“What? Where?”

“Utah,” He hands his brother his laptop, summarizing the article. “A, uh, college bible-study group and their, uh, guest speaker—some top-shelf church lady. Insides scorched out, kids’ eyes were missing, but not the church lady’s.”

“So, she was an angel, too?”

“Sounds like. Uh, and she sang soprano for the, uh, Melody Ministry Glee Club.”

“Okay…”

“The club goes to its gigs on a bus, so when I checked with the Wyoming cops, they said that a witness saw the same bus leaving the biker bar not long before the bodies were found.”

“So, church lady angel was at both killings?”

“I’m guessing that she and whoever she’s running with killed Bartholomew’s bikers at the bar and then Bart’s boys hit her back,” I add.

“When she was recruiting those students to be vessels.” We nod, and Sam sighs. “Wow. A bunch of kids."

“Kevin,” Dean warns. “Clock’s ticking.”

I frown, unable to imagine the weight of the world on my shoulders like the young man had.

My bedroom door opens, barely enough time for the hard knock to hit my ears. “Hey, have you seen Sam?”

I look up from the book I lay with in bed, meeting Dean’s eager gaze. “No, I haven’t seen him all day.”

Maybe if I hadn’t been acting like a hobbit, I would’ve been able to tell him the answer he was hoping for.

“Hmm.”

“Ask Kevin, maybe he’s seen him.”

“Yeah, alright.”

He shuts the door behind him, and I refocus on the text before me. Not even five minutes later, the hunter storms back in. He closes the door behind him and practically paces the room. My brows draw, wondering what had him so worked up. I sit up in bed and give him my undivided attention.

“What’s wrong?”

“We have a problem. A big one.”

“Don’t we always? What now?”

“Turns out Ezekiel isn’t who he says he is.”

“W-wait. What?”

“Ezekiel! The angel who’s supposed to be healing Sam is not him. Apparently, he died in the fall. So, there’s a random angel walking around, wearing my brother.”

“What?” My eyes widen, and my body rises from the mattress. “How do you know?”

“Cas just called. ‘Said he got captured by the leader of the new group: Malachi. They tortured him. He escaped, but not before leaving with another angel’s mojo.”

“So, he’s an angel again?”

“Yeah—that’s when h-he mentioned “Ezekiel”.”

“Who the hell is in Sam?”

“I don’t know, but he needs to go.”

“H-how? That means Sam has to expel him.”

He sighs, but knows it's the only way. “I gotta tell him.”

I follow Dean into the library to find Kevin. Without warning, he slams his hands on the table, startling the prophet.

“I need a spell, asap.”

Kevin straightens with a sigh. “Everyone always needs a spell, and it’s always asap.”

If I weren’t scared shitless, given the situation, I would’ve laughed at the poor but true comment.

“All right, listen to me...” The hunter stands tall, searching for the correct wording without giving too much away. “An angel can’t be expelled by another human. Only by the host, right? Well, what if there was a way to power down the angel so that it wasn't in charge for a few seconds?”

“What?”

“For instance—” I jump in, “If hypothetically, we wanted to speak with the vessel but not have the squatter listen in.”

Tran digests our words but asks otherwise, “Why?”

“Why? Kevin, we’ve got tons of possessed humans out there. You with us? And when the angels kill each other off, the humans are taking it in the teeth, so what if I wanted to clue the human in so that he or she could spit the angel out? That would be a good thing, right?” Dean voices defensively.

“Uh...yeah.”

“Okay. So, hit the tablet. Let’s go.”

The Winchester begins to walk away as Kevin calls, “Now?”

“Yesterday, Cinderella.”

I quickly follow the hunter to scold him for being rude to the selfless young man. We make it down the steps of the library into the Map Room, far enough away where Kevin can’t hear us.

“You want to ease up on him a little?”

He stops in his tracks, spins on his heel, and stares down at me, slight aggression in his eyes. “‘Xcure me?”

“Look, I know this is scary, and you’re taking it out on him, but he works like a dog for this team. ‘Least you could do is watch the way you talk to him.”

His nostrils flare, and his mouth twitches; My face just as hard. He doesn’t say anything, just stands there, his eyes searching my countenance. His features soften, just enough to nearly miss it. He turns around and mumbles under his breath, “Yeah.” With a roll of my eyes, I walk over to the prophet and offer to help in any way that I can.

The boys come back from the storage room, walking toward the library where I stayed behind.

“All right, so this masterpiece we just painted, it’s gonna work, right?” asks Dean.

“Sigils are supposed to briefly hobble the possessing angel. If the info’s correct.” Kevin responds.

“Wait, what?”

They stop in the center of the two rooms, underneath the stone arch just above the stairs.

“He only had time to get a little from the tablet. We got the rest from an old Men of Letters book,” I justify.

“As soon as your blood touches the ignition sigil, the spell kicks in.” The young prophet takes in the hunter’s apprehensiveness and dares to ask, “Dean, what’s going on?”

“I told you.”

“You told me theoretically.” The man grins, the kind that says, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ “Dean, we just painted sigils in the storeroom. What the hell?”

“You’re gonna have to trust me, okay? And trust that I told you everything that I can for now. Can you do that?”

Defeated, he admits, “I always trust you. And I always end up screwed.”

A little piece of my heart breaks at the brutal reality of his last sentence.

“Oh, come on. Always? Not always.”

Unfortunately so...

Dean walks toward the kitchen, while Kevin walks to his occupied table, where I follow.

“Look, Kev, I’m sorry.”

His attention shifts from the tablet to me, his brows knitting in curiosity. “For what?”

“For...everything, I guess.” He nods slowly, waiting for the rest. “Dean, he’s, he means well. He just feels like it’s his job to save the world, and unfortunately, in a way, it is. Like you, he didn’t ask for the responsibility, but we do what we do to get by. I promise when it’s time, you’ll know more.”

“Okay.” He says, this time with a small smile of trust.

Feet shuffle in the Map Room, shifting our gaze. Dean leads Sam to the room painted with the sigil, and my heart pounds a little faster. This is it. Everything in me wants to follow them, but I stayed glued where I stand. Should I go? What if it doesn’t work? The doubts cloud my mind, making it harder to keep faith.

I bite my lip, and my thumb taps against my thigh anxiously. Has it been too long? Should I check on them? But what if I interrupt something?

“I’ll be back in a sec.”

The moment I walk down the corridor, an angry Sam storms toward me. My mouth opens to speak, but I hesitate. Something feels off.

“Sam, are you ok—?”

He cuts me off with a flick of his wrist, and I fly backwards. I hit the ground and slide further than where I land, grateful I didn't hit my head in the process. Sadly, my wrist wasn’t as lucky. I roll off my arm with a sharp inhale. With a glance, I reassure myself that it’s fine and use the wall for support as I stand. Dean stumbles down the hall, his eyes falling on me in a panic.

“It’s not Sam,” I breathe.

He takes off towards the library with me on his heels. The moment we enter the Map Room, the prophet screams in agony. “Ezekiel’s” hand lies upon Kevin’s forehead, blasting him from the inside out. My heart drops and time freezes, just for a second, before we jump into action.

“No!”

The innocent man falls to the ground.

“No! No!”

“Kevin?!”

Once we get close, the angel lifts his arms, one hand for Dean, and the other for me. He slams the eldest hunter against the concrete pillar and me into the chair near the bookcase. We struggle against the hold, but it’s useless.

With a strangled breath, Dean calls his brother, “Sam?”

“There is no more Sam.” The liar admits. “But I played him convincingly, I thought.”

“How did you..?” I try as he walks toward the cluttered table.

“I heard the talk with Kevin Tran tonight,” He opens the prophet’s bookbag and packs the tablets. “Alter a sigil...even the slightest...” He turns and shows us his inked fingers. “Alter the spell.”

Each second got harder to breathe, and it wasn’t just the phantom hold we were under.

“Sorry about Kevin, but ultimately...” The angel’s gaze falls to the deceased man as he finishes, "It’s for the best. I did what I had to.”

He kneels down and places a yellow card upon Kevin’s chest that reads his full name. Tears begin to blur my vision, and I fight with the little I have left not to shed them in front of our deceiver. My sight doesn’t leave the ceiling, not even chancing a glance in Dean’s direction, knowing I would be done for. Just hearing his groans alone has me weaker than I already am. A beat passes before “Ezekiel” walks away, and as he exits the room, he releases the hold he has on us. Dean falls to the floor with a gasp, his hand clutching his heart. I rest my uninjured hand on his shoulder, asking him without words if he was all right. The moment he nods, I whip my head to my lifeless friend.

His eyes were burned out, just like any other angel kill. I can hear the sizzle and see the smoke coming from the pockets of his eyes. A yelp falls from my lips as I fall to my knees and crawl to his body. My shaky hand slowly and hesitantly reaches his face. His stubbled cheek was warm, too warm.

The echo of the bunker door opening and closing fills the room. The tears I’d been holding back finally fall. It’s no use, I know it’s no use, but I can’t help but call his name, hoping, praying that he could’ve survived this.

“Kevin?” No answer. “Kevin?” Once again.

Reality hits, and something inside me breaks.

My breathing becomes rapid as the hot tears fall at the same pace. “No, no, no.”

No, this can’t be. No!

My hands move to his shoulders, shaking him as I beg. “Please. Get up...Kevin, get up. Wake up. Please!”

Nothing...

“M-mari...” Dean’s voice breaks, and I almost don’t hear him. “Mari.”

But I can’t stop. It isn’t until I’m pulled into his chest that I do. With a heavy heart, I twist around, and his arms wrap around me, providing more comfort than I ever had from him before. My body shakes as waves of sobs ripple through my nervous system. His embrace grows tighter, enveloping me in the warmth of his affection, as if he wants to shield me from the world.

My tears drench his shirt, snot and all. I’d be embarrassed if I weren’t overwhelmed with the loss of my friends. Sam’s gone. Kevin’s...I feel his searing droplets fall onto my hair, and I know he’s suffering in silence.

After a while, my cries die down. My body ceases its tremors. My tears dry. I’m numb...At least for now.

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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 13 days ago

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i’ll dedicate the one shot to you for beginning my obsession. now, finish that next chapter cuz i need it 😆

started watching negan’s first season in the walking dead and man, am i getting the feels. (ik im late to the game. i originally stopped watching when he killed glenn but jdm is so hot and i actually like his character.)

#jeffrey dean morgan #jdm #the walking dead negan #negan smith

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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 14 days ago

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i’m so surprised to see how much of you voted and chose yes! tysm!!!

if you’d like to be tagged, let me know❣️

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #negan smith #negan smith fanfiction #negan x reader #negan x you #negan fanfiction #twd negan #the walking dead negan #negan smith smut #negan x reader smut #negan smut

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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 18 days ago

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This ones for the girls 13/?

Never let your fear decide your future.

Summary: your annual girlstrip to a special supernatural event after a bad breakup, Jensen being Jensen but what does it mean?

Word count: 14k👀

Oc’s: Stella Bonnie Ivy Bridgette

Warnings. Please keep all hands and feet inside of the roller coaster. And have an emotional support stuffie. Maybe a drink. Definitely tissues.

Stella dropped her shears on the counter with a metallic clink, blinking fast before anyone in the salon could see the tears threatening to pool. Her third client of the morning had rescheduled at the last minute, her apprentice had mixed the wrong toner for the balayage in Chair 2, and she’d started cramping so hard halfway through a blowout she had to step out of the room.

She was exhausted.

And she was lonely.

Even the kids were off-kilter—JJ’s anxiety about her big math test had been eating her alive all week, and Stella had talked to Jensen and he promised he’d call her that morning the test to give her a pep talk. But when she checked with JJ at lunch? Nothing. No missed call. No text. No Jensen.

Just… silence.

Except that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was the photo.

Cassie—one of the stylists—had shown it to her on Instagram like it was nothing.

“Your man’s trending again,” she’d said with a wink, handing Stella her phone.

There it was: a paparazzi shot outside a trendy Toronto lunch spot. Jensen in a beanie and hoodie, he looked exhausted but he was laughing—laughing—with his castmates. Including her: blonde, beautiful, 25. A guest star for the last few episodes.

She’d seen pictures of her on set. Jensen told Stella about her before she knew she existed.

That’s who he was. Honest, and noble. She knew that. She knew he’d been exhausted, sleeping on set instead of the apartment so he could get a few extra minutes.

But seeing that picture. Blake sat next to Jensen while he laughed. Innocent she was sure but still, not on Blake’s end, not with how she was looking at Jensen. And he’d missed calling JJ before that test. And Stella’s wrecked past came knocking through her body.

Stella stared at the picture, the caption reading: Jensen Ackles spotted grabbing lunch with his “Vought Rising” co-stars.

The words blurred. Her jaw clenched.

She knew he wasn’t doing anything. She knew that. But knowing it didn’t stop the twist in her gut or the dark voice whispering: Of course he forgot to call JJ. Of course she’s prettier.

Jensen rubbed his eyes so hard it felt like sandpaper. He hadn’t even wanted to go to that damn lunch. Aya had begged him to come out—“You need real food, dude. You look like the walking dead”—and someone from PR had nudged it along, claiming it’d be good to be seen together before the series trailer dropped.

He hadn’t touched Blake. Barely looked at her, he'd barely spoken to her in the two weeks she had been here, outside of lines on set. But still, someone had caught the moment he’d thrown his head back laughing at something dumb Aya had said. And now it looked like something totally different because she was looking at him as he laughed sitting too close for his own comfort.

He groaned when he saw the post. He knew Stella would see it. And even though there was nothing in it… God, he could already feel the spiral.

It was after that he’d realized: he hadn’t called JJ.

Panic hit him like a truck. He grabbed his phone, hands shaking, and called Stella immediately.

Straight to voicemail.

Four times before she picked up.

His face lit up the screen, he looked wrecked, like he hadn’t slept in days, he was pale.

Stella didn’t look any better, her hair was wet, but her eyes were cold. He could see she had been crying.

All Jensen knew to do was sigh.

And the moment they saw each other, everything cracked.

“Not so fun when it’s you being ignored is it?” You said, voice trembling.

“I forgot, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to her. I was out—”

“Oh, I know where you were,” you snapped. “Everyone knows. You were on a lunch date with Barbie. It’s all over socials. You know how many times I’ve been tagged. My phone hasn’t stopped going off.”

“It wasn’t a date,” Jensen said, frustrated. “It was lunch. With the cast. You think I’d—”

“I think,” you said, voice rising, “I know what games that blonde is playing Jensen. And it’s not one she wants to try and win. Not with me.”

His jaw locked. “You sound just like—”

“Don’t.” Your voice broke, and you stood from the bed like you needed the height to survive this. “Don’t you dare compare me to her. I’m not Danneel, Jensen! I've never been anything like her! And you know it! I love you! I care about you. I'm where I am because of how much I love and care about youabout them. And I don’t care how much money you’re making or who you’re eating lunch with—I just want you to remember the small things! I’m here doing everything I can, but I'm still getting used to this! And you’re there laughing next to Malibu Barbie, who’s looking at MY boyfriend like he’s hers.”

Jensen leaned back in the creaky trailer chair, running a hand through his hair, eyes burning. “You think I’m out here having the time of my life?” he asked bitterly. “I’m working. I’m sleeping four hours a night in a trailer. I barely remember what f*cking day it is.”

“I know you’re not Jensen. God I know that. You look like hell. And I’ve been stressing myself over it for weeks. But you still remembered to show up at that restaurant,” you shot back, arms folded, voice shaking with fury you couldn’t keep in. “But not make one phone call.”

Jensen flinched like you’d slapped him. “Don’t do that. Don’t throw that at me.”

“I’m not, if I was I’d be way more hateful. You know that. But again. I’m not Danneel Jensen. You’re an amazing father.” you snapped. “But she was counting on you. And you forgot. She passed by the way. And then I get blindsided with that photo like some kind of punchline to a joke I didn’t know I was in on. By my employee might I add.”

“I didn’t want to go!” he barked, louder than he meant. “Jesus, Stella—do you really think I’d—after everything with Danneel? You think I’d go and fuck it up? After everything?"

Your eyes welled instantly as another cramp ripped through you.

“I wasn’t but you keep bringing it up.” You gritted.

“Don’t do that shit,” he muttered, quieter now, voice flat. “I thought you trusted me.”

“I do,” you said, your voice breaking in half. “That’s the worst part.”

You paused, wiping your face, the tears falling fast now, silent and hot.

Your cramps came back harder.

“I trust you, Jensen. But I don’t feel like what’s happening here matters to you right now. And maybe that’s not fair, but it’s the truth. I’m here doing everything I can to hold down the fort, I’m treading lightly in uncharted territory. If I didn’t have Jared and Gen to explain certain things at the schools I’d be lost. But I’m doing it. Because I love them. And I love you. I'm not asking you to fix it. I'm asking you to acknowledge it.”

Jensen’s shoulders sagged. His voice dropped to a raw whisper. “I’m trying to hold everything together here, 2000 miles away, and I’ve got people in my ear about PR, stunts, about the next scene—do you know how many versions of myself I have to be every damn day? I'm trying to get this finished so I can come home and do this together, I forget one call and suddenly I'm fucking everything up.”

“I do know and I never said you fucked anything up,” you said, softer now, but not backing down. “And I never asked you to be anything but yourself with me. I’ve never expected anything from you—but to just be Jensen. I’m trying to be here for you, support you, love you.”

He blinked hard, jaw tightening. “Well maybe that's not enough right now.”

The words came out like poison. Heavy. Irreversible.

You recoiled, like you’d been punched in the chest.

And instantly—instantly—he regretted it. “Shit. Stella—”

You shook your head, standing abruptly, phone rattling as you held it in yours hand. “I have to go..”

“Wait—no, no. I didn’t mean that. I just—” He scrubbed his hand over his face, eyes pleading now. “I’m tired, I’m strung out, I didn’t mean that.”

“I need to go.”

“Stel—”

She hung up.

The screen went black.

And for the first time in months, Jensen was left staring at his own reflection in the blank screen, realizing just how much he might’ve just lost.

The salon was quiet, the kind of quiet that came when Stella wasn’t there to open the doors, turn on the music, or drop a strong iced coffee onto the front desk with a clipped “Good morning” before diving into the day.

Cassie was the first one to notice, showing up just after 8:30 with a confused look when the lights were still off. She texted Stella—twice—but got no reply.

Eventually, the stylists opened up without her, playing a guessing game about what might’ve happened.

Stella wasn’t sick often. And when she was, she still showed up.

But this morning, Stella stayed curled in her bed, wrapped around a heating pad, the blackout curtains drawn. Her cramps had doubled down, unforgiving and constant. Between that, and the fight with Jensen she hadn’t slept, Jared picked the kids up for school without question.

She was shattering from the inside out. Her pasts demons were crawling back into her mind, she wasn’t mad at Jensen, not really.

She couldn’t believe someone could be that bold, knowing Jensen was very open about their relationship, and JJ had been upset about him not calling her. Which only made it worse.

Jensen was unraveling.

He was three steps past exhausted, barely holding it together through the call times, rewrites, late-night shoots, and stunt work. He’d spent the night tossing in his trailer, haunted by the way Stella had looked at him, the silence that came after she hung up.

He wasn’t mad at her.

He was mad at himself.

For forgetting JJ’s call, for laughing too easily, for not seeing how hard she was struggling until the pain in her eyes forced it into focus.

But beneath the guilt, threaded through every breath like barbed wire, was something worse.

He was scared.

Not the kind of fear that spikes and fades. This was the kind that settles in your bones, that lives in your chest and tightens around your heart.

He was scared of losing her. Terrified, actually.

Scared of waking up one day and realizing she was gone—not in some dramatic, door-slamming kind of way, but in the slow, quiet unraveling of a love neglected for too long.

And he’d neglected it for weeks.

He was scared of becoming someone she couldn’t count on.

Scared that the best thing that had ever happened to him was slipping through his fingers, and no matter how tightly he tried to hold on, he was already too late.

He didn’t know if he could lose her.

If he’d survive it.

And then there was Blake. Again, like a stray animal that just didn’t understand he wasn’t fucking interested.

She was waiting by his trailer that morning with a coffee and a too-sweet smile.

“You look like you need this,” she said, handing it to him.

He didn’t take it, nodded once. “Thanks. I’ll get my own..” he slammed the trailer door shut. Stomping off towards hair and makeup.

It didn’t stop her from showing up again after his first scene, trying to lean against the monitor beside him like she belonged there.

“You okay? You look kinda…” she gestured vaguely, “wrecked.”

He didn’t even look at her. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What? I just asked.” she said, her voice lilting in that half-flirty way that grated today more than usual. “Because that whole scene just now, you were a little…” she trailed off, wrinkling her nose. “Tense.”

That did it.

He stood so fast the chair tipped behind him. “Jesus, you don’t know when to stop do you?” he snapped, louder than he meant to.

Blake blinked. “What?”

“A little tense? You think I’m a little fucking tense? Try being me, having a 25 year old following me around like a lost puppy. I have a girlfriend, I have kids, I’ve got a whole fucking life outside this set, and right now it feels like it’s falling apart all over again, and I can’t stop it because I’m here fucking working, trying to get yall to get off your asses so I can go the fuck home and be with my family! So forgive me if I’m not sunshine and mother fucking rainbows. And I’m damn sure not interested in some 25 year old throwing herself at me. Bridgette is my girlfriends best friend, you know that right? Shes one of mine too. I can have you off this set in a second if you keep on. I’m done Blake. Leave me alone!”

He didn’t wait for a response. Just turned and walked off toward his trailer, ignoring Bridgette calling his name and the eyes staring at him.

Silencing everyone the second his trailer door slammed.

Rain tapped softly on the roof of the trailer, a steady rhythm that made the silence feel heavier.

Jensen hadn’t moved in over an hour.

Still on the floor, hoodie slouched over his shoulders, phone face-down beside him.

Half drank bottle of whiskey next to him and no glass to go with it.

His hands were shaking, his chest was tight.

A knock at the door.

He didn’t answer.

The door creaked open anyway.

Bridgette stepped inside, headset still around her neck, eyes sharp but gentle.

“You planning on hiding in here all night?”

“I’d rather just fucking disappear.” he muttered.

She sighed and leaned against the wall. “I saw what happened. With Blake. Everyone did. And I brought cookies.”

“Don’t,” he said quietly.

“Don’t what?” she challenged. “Pretend she’s not been circling you like a vulture since the table read?”

His jaw flexed. “Don’t act like I’m—fuck—I didn’t do anything B.”

“I know that Stella knows that. But the picture? It says something else. And that’s enough to throw everyone off. You’ve been working like a psycho path to get this wrapped Jensen. Maybe you should have told her.”

He didn’t argue. Just rubbed a hand over his face, like he could scrub the whole thing away. Looking at her then and shaking his head with a humorless laugh.

“She won’t answer me either,” Bridgette said.

He gave a small, bitter nod. “Can’t blame her. On my end atleast.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Absolutely not. I—I can’t.” His voice cracked.

Bridgette stepped forward. “What happened Jensen?”

“I forgot,” he said, voice flat. “I screwed up, and she’s there taking on responsibilities that aren’t hers, handling everything, and gets slammed with that fucking picture. Worst part is. Stella knows I didn’t do anything. But I was short fused and said shit I didn’t mean. All she was trying to do was be there. And I went full armor. Again.”

A long pause.

“You want to talk about it now?” she asked.

“No,” he said. Then, after a beat, “There’s nothing to say. I fucked up.”

Bridgette tilted her head. “You look like hell.”

“I feel worse.”

She studied him. “You have to give me something here. Please?”

He hesitated, eyes fixed on the floor. Then:

“I’m tired. She’s tired. I’ve got Blake breathing down my neck like I’m her next co-star slash conquest. I’ve got PR playing puppet master, and I’ve got the one person I need that I love, thinking I just lit the fuse to the end.”

“She doesn’t think that.”

“She’s been there before B. Cheated on. Lied to, abandoned, abused you fucking name it, you know that. And I went back to my past with Danneel. I said shit I didn’t mean. I fucked up—I fucked up the only good thing that’s ever been mine.” He swallowed hard looking down at his phone. “I miss my kids. I miss her. And I can’t—I can’t take it back. And now, I might be going home to her leaving. I can’t lose her B. After everything we’ve been through I won’t survive being the reason it blew up.”

Bridgette crossed her arms “she isn’t leaving Jens. She loves you.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean she won’t leave.”

“You love her.”

He nodded once. “More than anything. Doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt her.”

Bridgette softened. “Then fix it.”

Jensen looked up at her—tired, eyes glassy but dry. And behind all of it: defeat.

“I don’t know how B.”

And he didn’t. Not even an idea. This was uncharted territory for Jensen.

“I know your secret Jensen. Don’t ask me how but I know. And if you mean it. Then prove it to her.”

Jensen looked up at her then. Shocked, maybe a little disbelieving. No one knew. Not even Cliff and he was around.

“It’s not that simple. It’s not a fix.”

“Maybe not. But if you keep isolating, and beating yourself up over it then nothing will ever be fixed. She isn’t Danneel Jensen. You can talk to her. Shes completely shut down. You’re the only one who can fix that.”

She walked out then.

He stared at the bottle of whiskey, before grabbing it and throwing it as hard as he could at the door.

The bottle shattered.

And he was terrified.

And he shattered.

The silence pressed in on your chest, heavy as stone.

You missed him.

God, you missed him.

But the voice in your head—the one born from years of being let down, used, overlooked—kept whispering, don't be a fool.

You hadn’t heard from him in hours. Not since that single message the day before.

A simple ‘I’m sorry I love you’

But you didn’t respond. You weren’t ready.

It’d been two days.

Gen forced you to talk.

And your eyes were permanently red and swollen. Your entire body ached.

That’s how you knew how real this was, how much you loved him.

You’d never been this broken over anyone.

You knew he was hurting. Knew this wasnt about some stupid PR lunch and jealous nonsense. It wasn’t about Blake. Not really. It was about the past bleeding into the present, on both sides. And the distance clawing at them from the inside out. You were hurt, by his words, by the fight, by the distance, but more than anything, your worry about him knowing he wasn’t taking care of himself, that hurt worse.

And you hated that you couldn’t be mad at him.

You were hurt. But more than anything?

You were scared.

But most of all, you were scared because you loved him.

Love him so much it hurt.

And if you let yourself call, let yourself text, let yourself hope—and he didn’t fight for you—then that would be the end.

And you weren’t sure you could survive that kind of heartbreak.

The kids were asleep upstairs. It was almost midnight when you heard something standing in the kitchen, trying to fight more tears. Again.

The back door creaked open.

You turned sharply, instinctively reaching for the closest object.

And froze.

Jared.

Wearing an old hoodie, windblown, his beanie and a half smile. Holding tacos.

“The hell—” you started.

“Well sunshine, You look like you haven��t slept,” Jared said bluntly, stepping inside like he owned the place. “So either you eat or I start spoon-feeding you in front of your neighbors. Your choice.”

You blinked, too stunned to stop him as he dropped the tacos on the counter, kicked the door shut, and plopped in the bar stool.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, arms crossing.

“Gen told me. And Bridgette called me this morning,” Jared said, cutting right to it. “Didn’t say much. Didn’t have to. But I’ve known him since before he had chest hair, Stella. I know when he’s breaking.”

Your throat tightened.

“All he’s said is I love you, I'm sorry...”

“Because he doesn’t want to hurt you more than he already has.” Jared’s voice softened, but not much. “He’s not the best at cleaning up emotional messes. Especially the ones he made.”

“I’m not mad at him,” you said quietly.

“I know. He’s not mad at you.,” Jared nodded. “He’s scared he’s going to lose you. Just like you’re scared you already lost him.”

His voice raised a little, making you jump.

“So here’s what’s gonna happen. Neither of you are going to listen to anyone. So, I’ve spent all day planning. I’m taking the kids. Gen and I have them. He doesn’t know you’re coming.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’re going to Toronto for the weekend. You need each other."

“I can’t just leave them. I’m not Danneel Jared.”

“Stella.” Jared’s voice dropped low. Firm. “He’s not okay. Neither are you. You aren’t leaving them, you’re putting your relationship first so they don’t face another tragedy. All while they get fed ice cream and movies with uncle Jared and aunt Gen. Danneel never did that… she never fought for him—them.”

His voice dropped to an almost whisper. “He’s not okay. He hasn’t been, living off protein bars and coffee like he’s in the Olympics. Wishing he was here. Trying to get back as fast as he can. And you’re here, settling into a life you never pictured and you’re killing it. But it doesn’t mean you don’t need him right now too.”

You turned away, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“I know,” you whispered. “I know he’s not okay, I’ve known.” your voice cracked. “I fucking miss him Jared.” The dam broke again and your shoulders were shaking.

Jared walked up beside you, his tone gentler now. “Then go. Pack a bag. Remind him what the hell you’re fighting for. Because right now? He’s losing sight. And so are you. It’s a fight not a death sentence for your relationship. Take the jet. It’s ready when you are. I’ve got the kids.”

You said nothing. Your eyes welled, but you refused to let the tears fall again.

“I’m scared,” you finally said.

“I know you are,” Jared said. “So is he.”

You exhaled shakily.

“But if you two keep sitting in your own corners, quietly falling apart while worrying about the other and saying nothing…” He paused, searching your face. “Eventually, you’ll both forget how to reach for each other. And I know neither of you want that.”

His eyes dropped to the compass necklace Jensen gave you last Christmas, his voice low but firm.

“Don’t let that happen. You’re still each other’s place to land. You just have to find your way back first.”

Another beat.

Then nodded. Once. Hard.

And just like that, the storm broke inside you—not with tears, but with motion.

You left the tea untouched and turned for the bedroom, throwing essentials in a duffel, tugging on boots, finding your passport. Your stomach still ached, but you powered through it like you always would for him.

You weren't giving up.

Not on him.

Not on them.

The wind bit through your coat as you stepped out of the black SUV, your boots crunching over the tarmac.

Cold.

Texas-cold, but still sharp enough to remind you, you were alive.

The private jet sat waiting on the dimly lit runway, lights glowing faintly against the night fog. Jared hadn’t been exaggerating—the jet was ready. Engine low, steps down, pilot standing at the base like this was routine. Like it wasn’t the middle of the night and you weren't boarding it with a heart that felt like it was splintered down the middle.

You gave a small nod to the pilot, one hand gripping the strap of your duffel.

“Ma’am,” he greeted. “We’re cleared straight through to Toronto. Just you tonight?”

“Yeah,” you said, voice hoarse.

He gave a quiet nod and stepped aside.

You climbed the steps one at a time, wind whipping your curls around your face, the ache in your lower back pulsing, but steady. Manageable.

You were going.

You were done letting this fall apart from 2,000 miles away.

Inside the car, the heater blasted stale warmth, but it couldn’t touch the ice building in your chest.

Now that you were here—really here—the nerves were clawing up your throat.

You stared out the window, palms sweating, stomach churning.

You hadn’t seen him in over a month.

Hadn’t spoken to him since the fight.

Your phone buzzed in your lap.

Jensen.

You stared at it, your heart hammering.

Then let it ring out.

You weren't ready yet.

You wanted to look him in the eyes.

The sun wasn’t up, but the set was already alive.

Crew dragging cables.

Background actors in full Vought gear.

Walkies crackling.

A camera drone hovering near a crane.

No one noticed you slip through the crew entrance.

No one questioned the woman in jeans and a way too big hoodie crossing the gravel lot like you belonged. It was Jensens hoodie.

They knew you.

And you seemed like you belonged.

Because you did.

Your steps slowed when you saw him.

Standing just outside his trailer, arms folded around a rolled-up script, pacing slow circles in the cold with a cup of coffee. His phone lighting up his features

His face was pale, jaw shadowed with days of stubble.

His hair was a mess.

And he was in full Soldier Boy gear—helmet off, gloves tucked into his belt, the green tactical suit hanging heavy on his frame like even it was exhausted.

He looked like he was holding himself up by sheer will. And even that was faltering.

He turned slightly, speaking to someone off to the side. Nodded. Rubbed a hand over his face. More than once. The circles under his eyes looked darker in the morning light.

You walked straight toward him, weaving through set pieces and distracted PAs. Brigette clocking you, and stopping whatever was fixing to be called. Your heart in your throat. Your whole body shaking and not from the cold.

You were within a few feet before he sensed you.

He glanced over absently—then did a double take.

His whole body stilled.

The script slipped from his fingers.

For a moment, he just stared. Like you weren't real. Like he’d conjured you out of nothing. Like blinking might make her vanish.

Then—he whispered Stella. Like an answered prayer.

He crossed the space between them in three long strides.

And kissed you.

Hard.

Right there.

In the middle of the chaos.

In front of cameras and grips and makeup artists and extras and God-knows-who else.

He didn’t care.

One arm locked around your back, the other cupping the back of your neck, as he pressed his mouth to yours like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

And you kissed him back, just as emotionally.

Hands against his chest.

Heart pounding.

Tears streaming.

The crowd around them blurred into static.

Because this—

This moment—

Was all that mattered.

When he finally pulled back, their foreheads rested together, his breath coming fast, like he’d run ten miles just to get to you.

“I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean it.” he whispered.

“I know—I know you didn’t. Neither did I. I’m sorry too. We’re okay—we’re gonna be okay Jensen. I promise,” you said, just as softly.

And just like that—

The ache, the silence, the space between them—

It broke.

He didn’t have to explain himself, neither did you. The fight—gone. They’d been through too much to let small things and 25 year old wannabes come between them.

But across the lot Bridgette was beside Blake, headset around her neck, clipboard in hand. Her expression unreadable at first—until she slowly turned to glance at Blake.

“You get it now?” Bridgette asked, voice flat, controlled.

Blake didn’t answer. Her arms crossed, her jaw tight.

“That’s not a maybe,” Bridgette said. “That’s not a fling or a co-star thing or whatever you were trying for. That’s it for him, that’s where his heart is, and she’s why he’s worked so hard to get this wrapped tonight. So he can go home. To her. To one of my best friends.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Blake muttered, defensive.

“You did,” Bridgette said simply. “You were warned. He’s taken. He’s hers. Always will be. And I’ll pray for you when you face her. And you will. Her words hurt. And you won’t know it until it’s too late.”

When Jensen told you they were wrapping that night. Two more scenes and he was done. You’d cried.

You didn’t know. It was a surprise. He planned on walking in the door on Valentine’s Day as a massive surprise.

Instead, he was coming home with you.

And somehow that was better.

You sat with Bridgette while they filmed.

God, you were so proud of her. And you’d told her countless times beaming with it. Seeing her in her element. What she created.

It was astonishing.

Your presence was calming to Jensen, he was more at ease per Bridgette. You were welcomed with hugs, and smiles. Except for Blake.

Aya told you what Jensen did, she told you everything. But you didn’t care. It wasn’t on Jensen. He should have never been put in the position to have to be that way.

But you were thankful for her friendship. And how she made sure you knew.

Your anger was with Blake now. Everything else was forgotten. But not her. Thinking she was more than what she was. Like being here on her first set, was owed.

This was Jensen's house. It was Aya’s, and Bridgette’s, everyone else was replaceable.

You couldn’t replace stormfront. And you damn sure couldn’t replace Soldier boy.

You didn’t say anything. Not to blake. Not yet. And when Jensen stepped off a scene he was with you. Still exhausted, still downing coffee like it was a drug and he needed a fix. But he was there, holding you, kissing your temple, trying to fix what happened. Without saying a word.

He’d laughed when you disappeared and came back with actual food that didn’t belong in packaging, and cookies you’d stolen from Bridgette’s trailer.

Specifically with Chase’ name on them.

Paybacks a bitch.

And he’d sat down with you at a table, letting himself take a break.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly, pulling you closer to his side while you ate. You shook your head.

“We both are. Emotions were high, voices were higher, I let period cramps, emotional trauma and dumb blondes get the best of me, and you were so exhausted you couldn’t decipher which red head was talking. You didn’t mean it. And I was acting crazy.”

“I’m not used to anyone fighting for me.” You looked up at him, the raw honesty in his voice meeting his eyes as he looked at you too.

“I know. I keep shocking you with that don’t I?” You grinned a little. His arm wrapped tighter around your waist, the other pulled your knees over his. Like he needed you as close as he could get you.

His lips met your hairline. Warm and soft.

“I love you. Only you. I’m not them. You aren’t Danneel. This is real. And I know you’re still settling. I know it’s been a lot. I promise you, I’m all in when we get home. Fuck I’m looking forward to waking up next to you.” He nuzzled closer making you giggle. His small grin met his eyes.

There he was.

Your Jensen.

That made you smile.

“After you sleep properly. Then I’ll let you. We have a whole routine. You’re gonna love it. And I love you too. And no, you aren’t any of them. I know that—God I know that. 6 months and I’m still shocked were here.”

He hummed a little looking up at you with a sly grin as he chewed. “I heard through the grapevine Rockies was voted best salon in Austin.”

“Grapevine meaning Jared?” You grinned.

“Mmhmm. And Brigette, I'm proud of you baby. That’s why I pushed to get this wrapped faster. I’m gonna be there the night they do awards. You deserve that recognition and I want to be there to support you.”

That hit you like a punch in the gut—but not the painful kind. The kind that knocked the breath from your lungs with how deep it landed. The kind that reminded you why you gotten on that jet in the first place.

You blinked, lips parting, but no words came.

Because he knew.

He always knew. Even when he was half a world away, even when the cameras were rolling and PR was up his ass and sleep was a myth—he was still paying attention. Still making plans to show up. Still fighting for you when you didn’t even realize it.

You looked at him—really looked—and the exhaustion in his eyes was still there, but so was something stronger.

Devotion.

Jensen reached up, brushing his knuckles gently against your cheek. “Hey,” he murmured. “You okay?”

And for once that week, you didn’t have to lie.

You nodded slowly, chest tightening around the swell of emotion you could no longer hold back. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I am now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The music thumped low and steady through the private event space, a mix of dark wood, warm lighting, and the electric buzz of celebration. Glasses clinked. Cameras flashed. People laughed too loud and danced like they were shaking off months of pressure.

Jensen had his arm around your waist, drink in one hand, his smile soft and unburdened against your temple. He felt easy beside you. Like he could finally breathe.

But peace never lasts.

Because she was here.

Blake.

In a backless gold dress, too-tight, too bright, too much. With lips glossed pink like bubblegum and eyes locked on Jensen like she thought wanting him hard enough would rewrite reality.

She hadn’t spoken to him all night—but she didn’t have to. She hovered. Loitered in every corner he walked through. Made sure she was seen. You clocked it the moment you walked in. So did Bridgette. So did anyone with a pulse.

You weren’t jealous. You weren’t even annoyed.

You were done.

When Jensen ducked away to say goodbye to the stunt team, you slipped to the bar alone. One quiet moment.

Until she made her move.

She slid in beside you, all fake sweetness and cloying confidence. As if she hadn’t spent the last month circling your relationship like a vulture waiting for weakness.

“Surprised you showed,” Blake said, smiling like a child playing dress-up in adult intentions. Swirling her cocktail like it crowned her.

You turned just enough to look at her. No smile. No warmth. Just… tired detachment.

“Why?”

She shrugged, faux casual. “I just figured long-distance would’ve been… hard. Especially for someone like you.”

Your brow lifted, slow. “Someone like me?”

Blake leaned in, voice lowered like she was doing you a favor. “You know. Not used to all this. The pace. The press. The pressure. Normal.”

You laughed—soft, genuine, like the kind you gave to your dentist when they asked if you were flossing daily.

“Right. Because God forbid someone in Jensen’s life doesn’t give a fuck about being famous. Most of us don’t.” You looked at her then—fully. “You really think I see you as competition?”

“You should,” she said, smiling like she’d said something clever.

You stared at her for a long beat, then smiled.

Not nice.

Not polite.

Dangerous.

“You’re not competition, Blake. You’re a distraction. A temporary one. And worse? You’re a boring one.”

Her mouth twitched, but you didn’t stop.

“Jensen is a man with gravity. A man who’s been broken, rebuilt, and still wakes up every morning fighting like hell for the people he loves. You think you’re ready for that? For him? You orbit a man like Jensen because it makes you feel important. Because standing near him gives you the illusion of relevance. But let’s be clear—he’s not a man you can make back down... Not even close. He’s a fucking hurricane standing still in what he loves, and you’re a paper umbrella.”

You leaned in, voice lowering—not for secrecy, but for sharpness.

“Jensen is the realest thing I’ve ever known. Despite his career, despite the shit that comes with it. He’s strong, yes—but that strength has come at a cost. He’s been through shit women like you and you romanticize it because you’ve never had to live it. He’s complicated. Heavy. A fucking force of nature you’ll never understand.”

You stepped closer.

“And you? You want the version of him you see in promo photos. You want the smooth smile, the Hollywood glow, the perfectly-lit illusion. But that’s not him. That’s the mask.”

Blake folded her arms, trying to steady herself. “And you think you can handle what’s behind it?”

“No,” you said calmly. “I do handle it. Every fucking day.”

You turned, bracing an elbow against the bar, now fully squared toward her.

“I’ve stood against his ex-wife in a convention room, a mediation room, her front fucking lawn, and held my ground while she tried to tear his life apart over and over. I’ve helped him carry his kids out of their own trauma. I’ve watched him break down in a kitchen at midnight because he didn’t know if he was failing them—and I held him through it. All of it.”

Blake’s expression cracked—barely.

You pressed in.

“I wake up to three kids that aren’t mine biologically. who call me for help because he’s breaking his back giving them a life they’ll never have to worry about, not their mother, their father. He’s a father first Blake full time. No breaks. I have them when he’s gone, because I’ve shown up. For drop-offs, for games, for school projects, for fevers, panic attacks, and birthdays and normal days too. I chose him. And choosing him means choosing them and I’ll be damned if they get hurt again. And I mean ALL of them”

You paused, letting the weight of it settle.

“I’ve folded his fucking laundry, packed it in his suitcase in 12 hours bawling my eyes out because he came home for a day to see us. I’ve run lines with him on FaceTime at 2 a.m. I’ve scrubbed throw-up off the floor after his son got sick, while Jensen was stuck here getting his soul pulled apart on camera. I’ve managed our house, our schedule, our fucking life—not because he can’t he can. And he does it seamlessly. I don’t do it because I have to, but because I want to. Because I love his kids. Because I love him. Not the idea of him and screw the rest. Thats not him Blake. This—none of this is that man over there. This is a mask, a career, he loves it god he does. And I’m so fucking proud of him every day. But he loves his home life more these days. The quiet. Wearing sweats and fishing off the pier. Without hair products and makeup.”

Blake looked smaller now. And still, you weren’t done.

“You think being ‘normal’ is some kind of insult? Sweetheart, he craves normal. And that’s what I make sure he comes home to. Not chaos. Not competition. Not some desperate, glitter-drenched actress who thinks batting her lashes at him is a long-term strategy. He’s been there done that, has the divorce papers to prove it and the emotional scars too. Normal is why he made everyone pull more hours to get finished early. So he could go home to normal again. To his kids. To me. He wants a soft place to land when the cameras stop rolling. And that? That’s me. Not because I begged. Not because I chased. But because I stayed when shit got hard, when his world got loud, when his demons clawed at the door.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper, but it hit like a punch.

“I don’t just love Jensen. I see him. Every broken part. Every sleepless night. Every brilliant piece. And I choose him. Not just when it’s easy—especially when it’s not.”

Then you stepped back slightly, eyes scanning the crowd before landing back on her with finality.

“You’re knocking on a door that no one’s answering to. He’s not a prize to be won, he’s a unicorn. They don’t make them like him anymore. And he’s taken. And I’ll dig my own grave before I ever lay down and let some 25 year old wannabe rip him to shreds because she thinks he’s owed to her. He deserves better. And if I’m the better. Then it’ll take killing me to get to him. And I promise you. When it comes to them. I’ll smile when I get arrested.”

Your laugh came easy then. Still not finished. Blake clearly rattled.

“He’s not looking for a highlight reel, sweetheart. He’s lived through enough performances to last a lifetime. He wants substance. Grit. A fucking backbone. And you? You’re all surface. No depth. No bite. Just a hollow shell in a dress tight enough to distract people from the fact you’ve got nothing to bring to the table but nice eyes and boobs.”

Your heart rate was up. Finishing your drink before looking at her again.

“You had your chance to be respectful. You weren’t. So now I’m saying this once—stay in your lane. Don’t orbit what you’ll never understand. Don’t reach for a man like him. He’s not just out of your league. He’s out of your reality. You couldn’t last a week in my place.”

You leaned in one last time.

“And in case you’re confused—Vought Rising is his house. And you? You’re just a name in the ending credits.”

Blake blinked, mouth open—but no sound came.

And that’s when you felt it.

His hand.

Warm at your waist.

You didn’t even have to turn to know who it was.

Jensen leaned in, his voice smooth, low, amused.

“I catch the tail end of something I should know about?”

You smiled without looking away from Blake. “Nothing that wasn’t already finished.”

He glanced once at Blake—no expression, no acknowledgment. Then he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“You ready to go, baby?” he asked, grinning now, fully, like the man who knew exactly what kind of woman he’d chosen.

You smiled up at him.

“Yeah. I’m more than ready.”

And with that, you turned. Together.

Blake stood behind, frozen in a version of the story that was never hers to tell.

Because here, in his world, in his life—there was never a question.

He was yours.

And to him?

You were the ending no one could rewrite.

Jensen had asked, of course he had—curious as ever, eyes glinting when he caught the shift in the air around you. And you told him. Every word.

You didn’t sugarcoat it. You didn’t need to.

He’d never laughed so easily—deep and low, like it came from someplace in his chest that had only opened for you. The kind of laugh that made people turn. The kind that said unbothered.

But it was when he caught Blake’s gaze—lingering near the door, watching like she still thought this was her scene—that he moved with purpose.

You were saying goodbye to Bridgette, your fingers already laced in his again, when he turned you gently to face him. No warning. No hesitation.

And then he kissed you.

Not a polite, public formality. Not some surface-level show of affection.

It was a claim.

His hand curled possessively into the back of your dress, the other threading into your hair, anchoring you to him. The kiss was slow, deep, unapologetic—like he wasn’t just kissing you, he was speaking through it. Every ounce of love, loyalty, and fire he felt for you poured into that moment.

Your whole body flushed hot under his touch. The room blurred. The noise vanished.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead brushing yours, the smirk on his lips smug and knowing.

You were breathless. He knew it.

So did she.

“Let’s go home,” he said softly, voice rough around the edges.

You nodded, still catching your breath, your heart thundering beneath your ribs.

Because home wasn’t a place. It was him.

And he’d just made damn sure everyone in the room—including Blake—knew it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been two weeks. Two chaotic, wonderful, soul-shifting weeks.

You and Jensen had found a rhythm—school runs, science projects, stolen quiet lunches, and long nights on the back porch that bled into starlight. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real. It was yours.

Until today.

You came home from work to find the house tense, quiet—but not peaceful. The kind of silence that means something had gone wrong.

Jensen was in his office, voice sharp and rising. JJ was at the kitchen bar, shoulders hunched over her science project like a little soldier in the middle of crossfire.

“What’s going on?” you asked, easing your bag off your shoulder.

JJ didn’t even look up at first. Just kept gluing Saturn’s rings with robotic focus. “Arrow and Zep are with Uncle Jared. We left visitation with Mom early, and Dad’s on the phone with the people who runs the old house or whatever..” her voice tense. You knew something happened immediately. You knew her.

You frowned. “The one Danneel’s still in?”

She finally looked up. Her voice was calm, but her eyes flicked—like she was watching for another explosion.

“He’s mad. Like… really mad. Mom and Steve got married. Not apparently. They did. No one told us. And now she told Dad she’s selling the house.”

“She—what? Can she even do that?”

JJ shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m a kid. He made us get in the truck. They were yelling. His hands were everywhere. He’s really mad this time.” She laughed a little. “It’s funny though. You should go ask him what Arrow said.”

You nodded, heart thumping, trying to stay steady for her but curious.. “Okay. Thanks for telling me. And hey, your solar system looks amazing. I think Neptune needs a little more glitter, though.”

You kissed her head and walked into the storm.

Jensen’s voice was sharp, breaking at the edges.

“No, I need to know if she can fucking sell my house without telling me. It’s my fucking money paying for that place!”

You stepped in just as he dragged a hand down his face, teeth clenched, pacing behind the desk like a caged animal. He flinched slightly at your touch—then settled. His eyes, rimmed with anger and exhaustion, flicked up to yours.

“Thank you. That’s all I needed,” he said into the phone, his voice low and bitter. “Yep. Sounds great.”

He hung up, tossing his phone to the desk with a dull thud.

“JJ filled me in mostly,” you said gently. “But talk to me.”

He let out a breath, running his hands through his hair before collapsing into the chair. “She can’t sell it without my signature. Divorce agreement protects the equity. I get half, which is fine—that’s about what I’ve paid into it anyway.”

You nodded, staying quiet.

“They got married last week. Didn’t tell the kids. Arrow found out during the visit, flipped out. Said Danneel was treating them like they didn’t matter. So we left. Jared picked her and Zep up. They’re at a baseball game.”

You smiled, trying to ease the weight in the room. “JJ’s going to Maddy’s for a sleepover tonight.”

Jensen blinked up at you, and for the first time since you walked in, there was a flicker of light in his eyes.

“We have the house to ourselves tonight?”

“Mmhm,” you murmured with a small grin.

He looked like he was about to say something sweet, but stopped—fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt instead.

“Before we get to that and I forget…” he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Arrow might’ve… yelled at Danneel. She said—uh—‘Mom would never treat us like we don’t matter.’ And she meant you.”

Your breath caught.

“She looked me dead in the eye after and said, ‘I want to go home. I don’t want to be near Danneel. I want Mom.’ She made it real clear.”

You sat on the edge of his desk slowly, processing it.

“She called me mom?” you asked softly, the disbelief threading through your awe.

Jensen nodded. “She did. I hope that doesn’t freak you out.”

You looked up at him, eyes starting to sting. “Jensen… they can call me whatever they want. But Mom? That’s not a nickname. That’s sacred. That’s… a gift I never thought I’d get.”

He reached for you then, arms sliding around your waist, pulling you gently into his chest. You melted into him, silent, the tears slipping freely now.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just held you like he knew the weight of everything you weren’t saying.

Because he did know.

You’d never talked about it—kids, motherhood, all the things you’d tucked away for fear of wanting too much. Jensen had already done the parenting thing. His life was in a different chapter.

But now… seeing you like this. Watching the way you loved his kids like they were always meant to be yours.

It made him wonder.

Rethink.

Maybe that chapter wasn’t finished yet.

Maybe there was more to write.

And maybe… It started with Arrow calling you Mom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonnie and Jeff walked out of the lawyer’s office for the fourth time that week.

Four too many.

Jeff had been solid. Brutally honest. Hillarie didn’t want honesty—she wanted chaos. Just like Danneel. They came in smiling and walked out seething, every time.

Bonnie had held back until now. Let Jeff handle his past. Let the vultures circle. She wasn’t intimidated. But everyone has a limit, and Bonnie’s got teeth when she reaches hers.

Today, it was a motorcycle that broke her.

She’d been quietly texting Stella about dinner, halfway thinking about the flight home, half-listening to the bullshit unfolding at the table. Until her name came up.

“You’re being insufferable because your new little girlfriend is here and you want to see me fucking squirm! We’re only here because of you, Jeffery! You couldn’t even hold up your end of the damn deal Bonnie’s still here!”

Wrong move.

Bonnie stood, slow and deliberate. Not angry—measured. Her voice sliced across the room, low and lethal.

“No. We’re here because he gave you a generous deal and you pissed all over it.”

She stepped forward, eyes locked on Hillarie, no emotion—just ice.

“You want to talk about squirming? That’s all you’ve been doing since the first meeting. You walked in smug, thinking Jeff would break. But you’re the one unraveling. And now you’re dragging me into it because you need someone else to blame for the disaster you made out of your own life.”

Bonnie kept going. No one dared interrupt.

“He kept his word. You broke the terms the second you spread your legs for someone who called him brother—and let’s be clear, everyone knows about it. He gave you clean exits and you chose mess. Full of antibiotics and tests.”

She leaned in now, smile sharp.

“Don’t confuse his peace with weakness. He doesn’t want you to squirm. You’re not that interesting. But me?” She laughed once, cold and soft. “I don’t mind watching you squirm. I could do this all day.”

Her voice dropped.

“You don’t hate me because I’m new. You hate me because I’m everything you pretended to be. Loyal. Honest. Undeniably his.”

Pause.

“And just for fun—let me clear this up: the bike is his. You don’t get to keep souvenirs from a relationship you sabotaged. That’s not how this works. You don’t get rewards for betrayal.”

Bonnie stepped back, adjusting her jacket like nothing happened.

“You wanted a fight, Hillarie. Now sit in what you started.”

She didn’t wait for a response. She was already halfway to her chair, texting Stella again like she hadn’t just lit the room on fire.

The lawyer, used to tension but not scorched earth, cleared his throat and closed the folder in front of him after awhile. “We’ll adjourn for the day. We’ll be in touch.”

Jeff didn’t move right away. Just looked at Hillarie for a long, long moment. Not angry. Not bitter.

Just done.

Then he stood, placed a hand on the small of Bonnie’s back, and walked her out without a word. The second the door shut behind them, he exhaled like someone had finally cut the cord to a weighted anchor he’d been dragging behind him for years.

The silence in the hallway felt different—relief, not tension. The storm was still behind them. Bonnie could feel him watching her, but she didn’t speak until they reached the elevator.

When the doors slid shut, and they were alone in the glass box overlooking a city neither of them liked, Jeff turned to her slowly.

His voice was low, almost hoarse.

“Wasn’t expecting that.”

Bonnie leaned against the mirrored wall, calm and composed. “You should’ve.”

Jeff watched her like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or fall to his knees in gratitude.

“You lit her up.”

“She had it coming.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, jaw tight. “But you didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I didn’t.” Bonnie looked at him, expression softening just enough. “I did it for us. For the kids. Quicker this is over, the quicker you get your life back..”

“I don’t want that life back. I want this one. With you.” Bonnie couldn’t help but fell that in her bones.

She’d won. She’d helped him win.

He deserved that more than anything.

She'd be damned if she backed down from making it happen now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivy stepped through the front door, her bag slung over one shoulder, the soft click of the lock behind her echoing through the quiet house. Her feet ached, her scrubs were wrinkled, and her hair was pulled back in a messy bun that had definitely seen better hours—but there was love in her heart.

Being a labor and delivery nurse came with its fair share of heartbreak. Some days were heavy, the kind that clung to her skin long after her shift ended.

But today?

Today was an up.

Today, she held new life in her hands. Today, she watched a mother meet her baby for the first time—a moment so pure it made everything else fade away. She’d cried in the corner of the delivery room, quietly, behind her mask. Happy tears. The kind that reminded her why she did this job in the first place.

She toed off her shoes at the door, dropped her keys in the bowl, and exhaled like she hadn’t breathed in hours. The house smelled like clean linen and something warm from the kitchen. Her heart swelled.

It had been a good day.

A rare kind of good.

Ivy padded into the kitchen, pulling a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge, the carbonation a small luxury after hours on her feet. She leaned against the counter, smiling to herself.

Her heart was full, but she needed to share it—with them.

She pulled out her phone and hit the group FaceTime button labeled “Chaos Crew”—her lifeline. Within seconds, faces started popping up.

Stella answered first, hair wrapped in a towel, glass of wine in hand. “Oh my God, are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying—are we burying a body or celebrating something?”

Brigette popped on next, curled on her couch with a bowl of popcorn. “Please let it be the latter. I cannot emotionally handle another ‘we almost lost one’ story today.”

Then Bonnie joined, camera tilted as she adjusted the screen, mascara still flawless at 9 p.m. “If this is about that hot resident again, I swear to God—”

“No, no, nothing like that!” Ivy laughed, wiping a happy tear from the corner of her eye. “Today was… one of the good ones. Like really good.”

The girls went quiet—attentive now, their teasing softened.

“There was this first-time mom,” Ivy began, her voice catching slightly. “She was scared. And everything that could’ve gone sideways almost did. But she fought. They fought. And when it was over—God, you guys, the way she looked at that baby…”

Her voice trailed off for a second. The memory was still fresh, still raw in the best way.

“I don’t know. It just hit me. I get to be part of that moment. I helped bring that baby into the world. I did that.”

Brigette smiled softly. “You’re gonna make me cry and I’m not even hormonal.”

Stella raised her glass. “You do the kind of magic the rest of us only talk about. You don’t just deliver babies, Ivy—you deliver hope.”

Bonnie grinned. “And honestly? You needed a win this week. I’m so glad today gave it to you. You deserve days like this.”

Ivy’s eyes welled again, but this time, it was okay to let it spill.

“Thanks, guys. I just… needed to tell someone who gets it.”

“We always get it,” Bonnie said, chin lifting like it was law. “You don’t carry that kind of beauty around by yourself.”

“And next time you have a bad shift,” Brigette added, “you call us for that, too. Even if it’s just so we can trash-talk the guy in supply who won’t restock your gloves.”

“Oh, him again—” Stella muttered.

They all laughed, and just like that, the heaviness of the day—the good kind—found its place. Not just in Ivy’s heart, but in theirs too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brigette dropped her bag by the door with a soft thud, too tired to care about unpacking. Her shoes trailed behind her—one in the hall, the other somewhere between the couch and kitchen. She moved on autopilot, pulling a chilled bottle of water from the fridge and pressing it to her forehead before taking a sip.

God, she was tired.

But it was a good tired. The kind that comes after pouring every last bit of yourself into something that mattered.

A couple of weeks directing Vought Rising had turned into staying through post and wrapping the whole damn thing. What was supposed to be a guest-director spot had become a full-on creative takeover. But she’d done it. She hadn’t just survived it—she’d nailed it.

And if she was honest? That wouldn’t have happened without Jensen.

He’d stepped in when things got chaotic. Guided her through the insanity of Vought’s behind-the-scenes drama, calmed producers, talked her through the worst days—and stood back when she needed to own the room herself.

He believed in her.

And somewhere in the middle of all of it… she met Chase.

Just then, a soft knock echoed at the front door, followed by the slow creak of it opening.

She didn’t even tense.

Only one person walked into her place like that.

Chase.

He stepped inside, hair still wet from a shower, in his usual hoodie and beat-up sneakers, holding a small paper bag and wearing a smile that made her forget how exhausted she was.

“I was hoping you were home,” he said, voice warm.

Brigette leaned against the counter, a slow smile pulling at her lips. “You broke into my house to tell me that?”

“I didn’t break in,” he said, holding up a key. His key. She’d given it to him two weeks ago and still didn’t know why it felt like such a big deal. “I knocked.”

She raised a brow. “Then walked in.”

“Minor detail,” he smirked, stepping closer. “I brought snacks. You looked like you might forget to eat again.”

Her stomach grumbled in response, betraying her. She laughed. “So you followed me up?.”

Chase moved closer, his eyes scanning her face. “You did it. You actually finished the whole thing.”

“I did,” she said quietly, emotion threading into her voice. “And I didn’t crash and burn. Not once.”

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “No. You blazed, sweetheart. Lit the whole damn set on fire in the best way.”

She looked up at him then, something unspoken passing between them—gratitude, pride, something else just beginning to bloom.

“You proud of me?” she asked, teasing but genuine beneath the words.

He leaned in just enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath. “I’ve never been more proud of anyone in my life.”

She blinked, the weight of those words landing harder than she expected.

Then—softly, like the moment didn’t need permission—Chase kissed her.

Slow. Warm. Sure.

And when he pulled back, he grinned again. “Now let’s feed you before you collapse on your fancy hardwood floors.”

Brigette laughed, letting him pull her toward the couch with one hand and the takeout in the other.

She was tired. Aching. Wrung out.

But she was full.

Of purpose. Of pride.

And maybe—for the first time in a long time—of something that could last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stella sat on the edge of the bed, Jensen was in the shower.

Their free night was full of a quiet dinner at their favorite barbecue restaurant with Bonnie and Jeff before Jensen decided a walk through downtown was needed.

Her feet hurt, her back hurt, but she was happy.

She missed him more than she let herself believe.

Even through the fight and the chaos, she missed him.

Her fingers traced over the small compass of her necklace. Feeling hands on her arms looking up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s quiet. Kinda forgot what that was like lately. Uhm, I have a client tomorrow. I know the kids won’t be home till later. And you wanted to go out.”

“Want me to come crash the salon?” He grinned pulling you down to the pillows with him.

“You’ve never been. I’d like to show you.” You smiled softly.

“I’m there. But I’m not mixing anything. Last time that happened we got into a fight.”

“Deal.” You giggled.

His eyes studied you like he wanted to ask you something.

“What?” You asked, cracking a small smile.

“N—nothing. Just…”

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” You assured him.

“You were with what’s his name for years…” he began speaking carefully. Your neck tilting to look at him better.

Jensen never asked about him. Or anything in the area that was Jackson. Which peaked your interest. But he shook his head.

But he just shook his head again before you could speak. “Nah. Never mind. You told me everything I needed to know.” He kissed you lips—soft, quick—and pulled you closer like that could erase the thought.

Except it didn’t.

Because it kept happening.

That week, Jensen lingered more. Asked half-questions. Watched you like he was thinking through a dozen things he never said aloud. And every time Arrow—his youngest—called you “mom” like it was the most natural word in the world, Jensen looked at you like his soul was being cracked open right there in real time.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t make it weird. Life didn’t change. But something was turning under the surface.

And it wasn’t until a few nights later—when the kids were finally asleep and the house settled into its familiar hush—that Jensen finally unraveled.

You had gone to bed already. But Jensen stayed downstairs, sitting at the kitchen table with a half-melted glass of whiskey and the weight of something sitting heavy across his shoulders.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just traced the rim of his glass slowly, staring at nothing and everything. Your mug sat by the sink, where you always left it. Your shoes were kicked off by the door, toes pointed in, like always. The scent of your shampoo still lingered faintly in the room, soft and Moroccan If he remembered right.

He didn’t hear you approach.

Not until your hands slid over his shoulders from behind—warm, grounding.

“You okay?” You asked, voice groggy from sleep.

He nodded, but didn’t look up. “Yeah. Just thinkin’.”

“That’s dangerous,” you teased lightly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Come to bed.”

He exhaled a breath of a laugh, then slowly turned to her. His eyes were softer than usual, like whatever was behind them had been sitting there for a while.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked.

You squinted a little. “About what?”

He hesitated. “About… having one.”

You blinked. “A mental breakdown? Yes all the time. Why?”

Jensen gave a small shake of his head, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to say it out loud. “A baby.” His voice came out in a whisper. Not sure if you even heard it.

But when he looked at you, you were staring back at him like he was insane.

“I know I said I was done. I meant it when I said it, too. I didn’t want anymore with her. I wanted out. I didn’t want her having any more to use against me. And I’m content with them. God they’re my life. But I don’t know lately…”

You sat down next to him still looking at him crazy, but listening. You always listened.

“I was good with JJ, and Life was chaotic enough and then it just… got still. Then came the twins and I was okay with just one. And yeah maybe it wasn’t sunshine and rainbows but I wouldn’t trade having twins for anything. But I wasn’t there for most of anything. Nine months at a time, I was in Canada filming. I missed it. All of it. First words, first steps, I’d accepted it. They were older, more self sufficient. I left, I was perfectly fine with it. Then you showed up and—it’s stupid..” he shook his head downing the rest of his drink.

But you moved. Her hand on his, “finish what you were going to say. Don’t—don’t shut down. Obviously you’ve been sitting on this for over a week. Just tell me.” You said softly.

Jensen looked at you like you held all the answers in the world. He was 47 nearing 48 quicker than he wanted to admit. Yet here he was thinking about having a fourth kid.

He sighed. Not frustrated, or shut down. But just unsure. Scared maybe. He ran his hand through his hair before laughing a little.

“You came along, and I see how effortless it is. You have this killer instinct. And it didn’t start with the kids, it was Austin. They way you were with the girls. Honestly, I half expected you to tell me you secretly had a basketball team and drove a mini van. Which I was completely committed to accepting.” He laughed then. Before looking back at you again. Your easy smile made his falter.

Then he turned to you fully. “I know you’re fine being a parent to my kids. And I love that. That’s all a parent wants when they try again. To meet someone who loves their kids like they were their own. But—but I can’t get it out of my head, that this… we’re…you”

“Are you having a stroke?” You asked with a small smile and Jensen couldn’t hold in the laugh. “Do you smell toast?”

Because leave it to you to find a way to calm him down when he was fighting a war inside his head.

“I didn’t want anymore, not after JJ and damn sure not after the twins. But I don’t think it was them, or me, or the fear of starting over. I think it was her. Or maybe it’s just because you—fuck you’re made for it. Made to be a mom. For real. And if you can love those three upstairs, that don’t share an ounce of your DNA, without hesitation, without question. I can’t imagine seeing you with a baby that does—that we made.”

You didn’t speak at first. Just looked at him, heart thrumming a little louder in your chest. It wasn’t something they had seriously talked about—not beyond jokes or fleeting mentions like the last week. You always assumed he meant it when he said he was done.

“But I think I want to. I think it’d be pretty cool to be around for first words and steps, actually be able to be a part of it, not just the financial backbone.”

“Jay,” you said quietly, “are you saying you want a baby?”

He looked at you for a long beat, then nodded once. “I think I am.”

Your eyes shimmered, but you smiled. A soft, surprised kind of smile. “Well… damn.”

He laughed, almost shy. “That a good ‘damn’ or a ‘run for the hills’ damn?”

You moved closer, fingers threading into the back of his hair. “It’s a ‘my heart’s too full and I love you too much to even know what to do with it’ damn.”

Jensen held you there like something sacred. Thumb brushing your jaw.

“I was scared,” he admitted. “I kept thinking it would ruin this. Or maybe it’s just me trying to make up for all the time I lost with the kids when they were little. Maybe even mad at myself that I didn’t try harder. But when Arrow called you ‘mom’ and you didn’t even flinch…” His voice caught. “It just hit me. You already feel like the rest of my life. I just—I don’t know how they’d react to it.”

You pressed her forehead to his. “You’re not trying to make up for anything, honey. You’re building something new. And if that means we have a baby… or just keep loving the hell out of these kids… then I’m in. All the way. Whatever we decide, and it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t hide anything from them.”

He kissed you then—slow, sure, and full of everything words couldn’t carry.

Later, lying in bed with you tucked against his chest, Jensen whispered into the quiet:

“Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“If we do decide, I’m doing it right.” He said softly.

You didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t explain. They just let it rest there.

A solid maybe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later Stella was having lunch with Bonnie, Genevieve, Bridgette and Ivy, while Jensen Jared Jeff and Chase were playing golf.

The kids were in Dallas, and Jensen's birthday was on Sunday.

He didn’t know it yet but you were planning a huge party, which was why everyone was here, and even more would be then.

It was chilly but not freezing on Friday afternoon. Everyone was catching up, Bonnie had just gotten back from New York with Jeff and was thoroughly explaining the court hearing that week.

“I had to keep my mouth shut, but the judge signed off. It’s done. He’s a free man now. It’s great. No more hiding. And! And—we get the kids next weekend for the first time. So be free cause I don’t know what I’m doing.” She gave you and Gen a pointed look.

“You’re gonna be great.” Gen smiled. “But definitely, I’ll make sure I’m free we can do something. What about you Stella?”

“I’m free, but if it’s an every other weekend thing then the next weekend you’d have them, Jensen will be leaving that Friday for L.A season two of countdown starts that Sunday, it’ll be spring break that week and we’re taking the kids to spend it together.”

“I can work with that. I just need the first like bonding moment I guess. Jeff will be with Jared on Saturday for some clay shooting thing.”

“Jensens going. God knows the trouble they’re gonna get in to.” You grinned. “He wanted to take Zep and both zeppelin and I collectively said not happening.”

The girls laughed which made you smile wider. They’d become the center. While you and Jensen found your footing into more permanent territory.

“Speaking of kids, and the Ackles life. How is everything? Being a full time step mom, Danneel giving any hell?” Bridgette asked you.

You smiled a little not having told them much about the last three months.

It’d been so hectic it wasn’t for lack of trying.

“Yeah, we haven’t dove into that since Christmas. We need details.” Ivy grinned.

“Well, uhm, Danneel and Steve got married, didn’t tell the kids. Arrow flipped her lid and called me mom and Danneel by her name while telling Jensen she wanted to leave. She’s also selling the house in Connecticut, so Jays been dealing with that.” You played with a napkin in front of you staring at it like it owed you money.

“Uhm kids are doing great, they’re excelling better than Jensen says he’s ever seen now. We had a huge fight. Bridgette knows some of that. And Jared. But it was fixed.”

“That costar wasn’t it. I saw the picture.” Bonnie narrowed her eyes and you nodded.

“Blake. Yeah, but I flew to Toronto and Jensen and I had our moment, I had my moment with her. Put her in her place. Bridgette witnessed Jensen's version of making it clear”

“Looked right at her in the middle of the wrap party and kissed Stella like there was no tomorrow. Pretty sure I saw Blake stomp out.” She laughed.

“I mean pretty normal.” You shrugged looking up but the three sets of eyes staring back at you and gens shake of her head like she knew. Said otherwise.

“Arrow called you mom?” Bonnie asked suddenly.

“Uh yeah, it’s a normal thing now.”

“And.” Gen asked

“And, it makes my heart happy she sees me that way?”

“No try again and.” She nudged you then.

“What?”

“Jensen called Jared. Jensen told Jared all about his internal warfare last week.”

“Oh. That… I mean we haven’t talked about it since—“

“You better tell us.” Bonnie sat closer, the girls following suit.

You shook your head with a smile. Your phone lighting up with a text from Jensen.

‘Missing you, you’d look better driving this golf cart than Jared. But I hope you’re having fun. I love you.’

It only made your smile wider. Looking back at the girls.

“Jensen wants a baby. And while nothing's set in stone we’re thinking about it. I’ve always wanted to be a mom. I’m content with JJ, Arrow, and Zep, he is too and, I don’t know it’s there, it’s a possibility, but yeah it was this whole week long half asked questions, cutting himself off type was he was fighting and one night we actually talked about it. I was more shocked than anything at the time, but now… I don’t know. I can see it. Like really see it. He took JJ to get some dance bag the other day and sent me a little baby leotard and said ‘I can see it.’ Just kind of an unspoken thing right now. No big deal.” You brushed it off but it infact definitely been a big deal.

It wasn’t just the leotard. There were videos you’d send each other.

He’d thrown out the name Stryker for a boy in the shower one morning while you curled your hair.

And the girls were looking at you like you had ten heads tentacles for arms and fins for legs.

“I knew he didn’t ask me about why you never had kids before for a fucking reason. The fucker text me while we were in New York and asked that. I just said you never met the right person and he didn’t fucking respond. Just left me on read.” Bonnie snapped making you giggle.

“He struggled bad with it. Not sure if he was jumping or really wanting it. Honestly he’s still battling it. But I’m good anyway you look at it.”

“I’m not. If yall have a baby I need to know ahead of time like in the trying phase so I can get transferred and I get to deliver it dammit.” Ivy hit the table making you laugh hard. “I’m serious! This is literally my job Stella, Bonnie’s gonna scare Jensen off from cutting the cord Bridgette is going to film the entire thing Jared and Gen are gonna be in the corner cheering you and Jensen on like crazy people. I call doing what I do best and getting that baby here safely. I’m weeks away from being a midwife.”

You had tears in your eyes. Not from fear or anger, but happy tears. Ones that gave way to how amazed you were having this slightly insane but perfect group of friends that turned family ready to hold your hand every step of the way.

You nodded. Wiping your eyes, “I’ll let yall know if operation baby Ackles takes its first leap.” You laughed through the tears. “Also—“ you grabbed Bonnie’s arm shaking her “I can’t believe he’s finally divorced an you get to be step mommy! And weeks as in what? Two three” you looked at Ivy.

“You know you’re the only person that gets to man handle me like that and keep their face?” Bonnie smirked at you and you giggled

“I do. And I’m thankful.”

“Just waiting on my final test which is in two weeks exactly. So, be ready when I pass we’re having a party.” Ivy smiled wide before looking at Bridgette

“Wait, what about you and Chase? Don’t think we didn’t hear the grown ass men mention him earlier.”

“We’re good. Really good. We went to Hawaii last week. It’s why when Bonnie sent the big oh my god I never responded. I’m happy you guys. And, I have a new show coming up. I’m officially on amazons directors list! Thanks to Jensen and Eric’s massive praise.”

“Nope, Jensen said that was all you. He just agreed with what they already said. He’s taking no credit in your success. But he’s damn proud of you.”

All eyes landed on Gen then. Who sat a little straighter.

“Jared and I got more miniature cows? I don’t know we’re just out here living.”

And that made the four girls squeal.

Already planning a day to visit the Padalecki farm. Which gen had been planning since January in their group texts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But across Austin, on hole number 6 Jensen was beaming with pride.

Having just told the guys what he’d been pondering on. Or—the two of you.

“A baby at 48?” Jeff asked.

“I know. Crazy but it feels right. Like it’s not just a conversation, I want it. I want it with her. And she wants to take that leap with me.”

“Jensen. The kids are older, I mean really think about this.” Jeff added. And Jensen shook his head.

“I have.”

“It’s true. Full tantrum, meltdown, and broody half questions. Called me at three am for a porch beer over it. He’s serious. He wants to have a baby with Stella and she’s all in when he’s ready.”

“It’s not going to be tomorrow we start trying. I want to do it right. I’m going to do it right. I never thought I’d be here again, didn’t want to be. But dammit, I know what I have in front of me and it’s not a good time—It’s a good life.”

“What do you mean, do it right?” Chase asked, propping himself against the golf cart, brow raised.

Jensen didn’t answer right away. Instead, he moved around to the front of his golf bag and pulled out a small, velvet box—one that looked too out of place in the middle of a dusty golf course.

Jeff’s eyes widened the second he popped the lid. “Woah,” he breathed, stunned. The sunlight caught the solitaire emerald-cut diamond, sending shards of light across the cart’s dashboard.

“Yeah,” Jensen said softly, almost under his breath. “It’s… not the ring. Not yet, anyway. I bought this back in January, went shopping for shoes left with an engagement ring.”

He took the box back, holding it in his palm for a second like it weighed more than it should.

“She prefers silver,” he continued, “but the setting on this one—it’s discontinued. Something about the cut and the metal being a limited run which is fine.. But the clarity’s too good to pass up. Like… too good. So I bought it with the plan to reset the whole thing.”

Jeff glanced at him, intrigued now. A small smile forming.

“I’m having it set in a thinner platinum band,” Jensen went on, voice a little quieter. “Wrapped in small diamonds. Bonnie accidentally mentioned this dream ring she saw in Stella’s Pinterest board last December… I wasn’t meant to hear it. But I did and she was in awe over the damn thing. and I—hell, I spent two days digging through links until I found it. Some moissanite thing from Toronto on a sterling band. But it was the look that mattered. The design.”

Chase whistled low. “That’s some serious recon.”

“I just…” Jensen paused, eyes fixed on the ring. “I want it to feel like her. Not just expensive or flashy or something that says look what I bought. I want it to say—I see you. I know what you love. I know what makes your eyes light up. You’re not just a chapter in my life, you are the damn story.”

There was a beat of silence. Even Jared, who usually had a joke locked and loaded, stayed quiet.

“Misha hooked me up with a jeweler in L.A.,” Jensen added, rubbing his jaw. “When we leave for countdown, I’m taking the sketches in. She doesn’t know any of it. I want to keep it that way.”

Jeff finally spoke. “So… when’s it happening?”

Jensen shrugged, but it didn’t come off casual. It was the kind of shrug that carried weight. “Depends on how long the ring takes. Could be spring break. Could be her birthday in July.”

Jared snorted. “It’s not gonna take that long.”

Jensen cracked a small smile, closing the box gently. “Yeah, but I’m planning ahead. I’m taking her to the Maldives for her birthday.”

“Damn,” Chase muttered, grinning. “You’re all in, huh?”

Jensen looked up then, and for the first time, there was no trace of sarcasm or humor in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “I am.”

He tucked the box back into his golf bag like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“After everything… after the chaos and rebuilding my life, and trying to do right by my kids—Stella showed up and didn’t just fit in. She made it home again. She chose all of it. Me, the mess, the kids… I don’t want to wait too long to make sure she knows I choose her right back. Forever.”

None of them said anything for a minute.

Then Jared clapped a hand on Jensen’s shoulder, smirking like a proud big brother. “Well, when you do it… you better warn us. I’m not missing the look on her face.”

Jensen grinned, the kind that cracked across his face like a man who finally knew what he was meant to do. “You’ll be there. All of yall will be. The girls and the kids. She fucking deserves the moment.”

“I can’t believe you’re starting over from square one man.”

“I’m not. I'm letting go of the illusion of the tower I never built before. I’m building the real thing this time, solid, steady, with more love than my kids know what to do with. And that new baby? If and when it happens won’t ever know the hell their siblings went through. And that started the day we kissed last August. Everything changed. I'm doing it right this time, she’s it for me. I know that. And I’m going to make sure she knows that the second I ask her to marry me.”

A/N: bet yall thought I’d end it here didn’t you? We’ve officially entered intermission. But hit really it’s just the middle so. Anyway. Yall alright? I’m not.

Tags: @jays-bonnie-on-the-side

@jensen-timetraveling-wife

@candy-coated-misery0731

@lovelywebber

@deansimpalababy

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@hobby27

@smoothdogsgirl

@stoneyggirl2

@imsiriuslyreal

@1bucky-barnes-wife1

@castielscaplan

@deans-baby-momma

@soullessambs

@callsign-ember

@eagerlycyberchaos

#jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #soldier boy #mark meachum #dean winchester #beau arlen

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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 21 days ago

Text

This one’s for the girls 12/?

Merry Christmas from the FAMILY

Summary Summary: your annual girlstrip to a special supernatural event after a bad breakup, Jensen being Jensen but what does it mean?

Word count 11k

Original characters Stella Bonnie Ivy and Bridgette.

Bonnie and Jeff drove in tense silence down the winding road to Jensen’s. Her nerves were frayed, stomach tight with the weight of what she had to do. She’d have to tell Stella. There was no way around it now.

As much as she hated to admit it, Jensen had been right. Jeff needed to come clean about the separation. And she should’ve told Stella the truth, even if it meant facing Jensen’s judgmental side head-on.

God, she hated that about him — how self-righteous he could be. Always so damn honorable, protective, stubborn to a fault. The kind of man girls were supposed to dream about. Fuck him for that.

Jeff’s hand gripped hers — steady, but anxious. A silent apology. A lifeline. He knew how deep her bond ran with Stella, how fiercely they loved, and how fiercely they fought — for each other, and when things went wrong, against each other. He believed they’d be okay in the end. But he didn’t know what Jensen had told her. Neither of them did.

And that uncertainty? That was the worst part.

They had no idea what they were walking into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What they didn’t know was that Jensen had called Stella the second he got back in his truck.

He felt guilty about it — not because he didn’t trust Bonnie to not tell her at all, but because he wouldn’t lie to Stella. Not after everything. Not after Danneel. Not after the hell she’d been dragged through before. He’d rather his friends be mad at him than break trust with the woman he loved.

But he hadn’t given Stella the whole story. No details, no drama — just that he’d run into Bonnie, and told her she needed to talk to Stella. And if she didn’t, he would, which upset her.

Stella hadn’t been mad about what he told her — not exactly. It was more the way he told her. Like dangling a thread just out of reach, like he wanted her to pull it but wouldn’t let her. That frustrated her more than anything.

Jensen just wanted it over with. All of it. He hated being in the middle, the same way Bonnie had tried to shield Stella from being. That was why he’d warned her — not to start something, but to stop it before it exploded.

What he didn’t expect… was Jeff stepping out of the truck when they arrived.

That was all the explosion needed. She’d jump to conclusions. She would over analyze it, She wouldn’t need anyone to explain. She was too sharp for that. She’d read the room the moment they walked through the door — before a single word was said.

And that was her own trauma coming out of her. And he hated that he'd added fuel to the fire. Because he knew exactly what trauma responses were. He knew what she was feeling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door opened and you turned. You weren’t expecting what you saw.

Jensen had told you he’d run into Bonnie — said she had something to tell you. Something important. Something she should’ve said weeks ago.

Which worried you, pissed you off, and made you upset at Jensen when he was just trying to warn you. You hadn’t said a word since you walked in. Not because you didn’t want to. You didn’t trust your words.

You loved him, but you were sharp tongued when your anxiety was high. You didn’t want something you said out of pure panic and unease to start something between the two of you.

But you didn’t expect Jeff to walk in behind her. Shoulders tense, eyes glued to the floor like just looking at you might burn him alive.

That made it worse.

You were in the kitchen with Jensen, halfway through chopping onions while he sliced the steaks he’d grilled. Somehow without talking you two made dinner together like it was second nature. And that made you smile to yourself a little.

Until Jeff said “hi.” The next cut you made was sharper, heavier. Jensen flinched.

“I swear,” you muttered, voice like a blade, “if you tell me you're pregnant and that’s why you’ve been avoiding me, I’m going to castrate him.”

It came out harsher than you meant — but not by much. Again why you kept quiet to Jensen.

“I’m not pregnant, first off. And two, why would you even think that?” Bonnie shot back, folding her arms.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you snapped, eyes still on the cutting board, “maybe because my best friend disappeared for weeks and I figured pregnancy hormones made you even more insane than usual.”

“Ever think maybe I was protecting you?”

“Protecting me?” Your laugh was sharp, humorless. You looked up, the weight behind your stare unmistakable. “Yeah, because I haven’t spent the last four months going through hell. Sure. Tell me again how I needed protecting from whatever you needed to tell me.”

“I didn’t want to drag you into it,” she said, her voice rising now. “I didn’t want you to have to lie to Jensen! You’re dealing with enough as is!”

You dropped the knife. It hit the counter with a loud thud. Jensen flinched again.

“Son of a bitch—my hand was right there,” he muttered with a tight laugh, backing off to give you space. Smart.

You turned back to Bonnie. “Only reason you’re telling me now is because Jensen told you he would of you didn’t. When were you going to tell me, huh? Miss We Tell Each Other Everything. I don’t keep anything from you.”

“I didn’t want to hide it,” she said through clenched teeth. “I just needed time. I wanted to figure it out before dumping it on you. You think I wanted to keep it from you? Telling Jensen was easier than this.”

Bonnie turned to him. “What exactly did you tell her?”

“Leave Jensen out of it,” you snapped. “At least he gave me a warning.”

Jensen stared at you for a minute. Then a small smile formed on his lips. He was slowly getting his ass out of that dog house. He could feel it.

“And you won’t even let me explain!” she barked. “You’re treating me like I murdered your dog or something! You’re acting insane.”

“Three weeks, Bonnie. Three weeks of nothing. No texts, no calls. You don’t think that messed with me?” You stepped forward, pointing between you and Jensen. “You think we don’t have enough going on? You know what we’ve been figuring out.”

Jensen gave you a look — calm patient.

“You want her to calm down,” he said quietly to Bonnie, “just tell her everything. Before she gets another word out. It’s been a long day for her. And I’m at my limits with her being in the dark.”

He stepped out to the patio, Jeff trailing behind him like his shoes were filled with lead.

Bonnie stood there, shifting her weight, silent for a long beat. Then finally—

“Jeff and I are… kind of together. And before you—”

“You’re what?” Your voice was a slap across the room. “Are you kidding me?”

Bonnie winced. “I—”

“You’re dating him? Are you out of your fucking mind? He’s married, Bonnie! Married! You’re not a side project. You’re not a secret. You know your worth.”

“It’s not like that—”

“It’s exactly like that. And don’t try to sell me on some ‘open relationship’ excuse. This isn’t casual. This is secretive. This is lying.”

You took another step, fire in your chest.

“And with him? Jeff? After everything with Danneel, after what she did to me — and now you’re running straight into the same storm with her best friend's husband, thinking it’ll turn out different? What are you thinking?”

Bonnie’s jaw tightened. “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”

“I’m talking to you like someone who loves you! Who’s watching you throw yourself into a mess that’s going to break you in half. And you hid it from me. Like I wouldn’t find out. Like I wouldn’t care.”

Bonnie’s jaw clenched, her eyes blazing now. “You think I don’t know all of that already?! You think I wanted it to happen like this?!”

“I think you didn’t stop it,” you bit out. “I think you let it happen, and then you lied about it. And I think you’re smarter than this, and it kills me that you’re pretending you’re not.”

Bonnie’s voice cracked—then rose.

“He’s getting a divorce!” she screamed. “He’s leaving Hillarie! He chose me, Stella!”

Your heart slammed into your ribs. The air left the room. But not your anger.

“You think that makes it okay?! You think being his escape plan makes you special? You deserve better than to be some man’s halfway house between relationships!”

“You don’t know what led us here—”

“I don’t care! I want better for you, Bonnie! I want you to be chosen first. Not picked second. Not kept secret. Not treated like something he has to sneak around for. You are not someone’s side piece!”

Bonnie didn’t say anything at first. Her mouth was open like she wanted to scream again, but nothing came out. Her chest was heaving, her hands trembling at her sides, and her eyes — God, her eyes were glassy now.

Your own were burning, but you blinked fast, refusing to let them spill. Not yet.

Then Bonnie’s voice came, small and cracking like it didn’t belong to the same woman who’d been yelling a second ago.

“I didn’t want to be anyone’s secret,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to fall into this either. I just… did.”

You looked at her, jaw set, but softer. “Then why didn’t you tell me? You always tell me everything.”

“Because I knew you’d look at me like you’re looking at me right now,” she said, voice shaking. “Like I lied to you. And I didn’t want to feel that. I already felt that. And I didn’t want you having to hide the truth from Jensen while I figured out if I was in this. If I could stand next to Jeff in the storm like you do for Jensen.”

Your chest ached at the honesty in her voice. At the way she wasn’t defending it anymore — she was just hurt.

“I wasn’t trying to judge you,” you said, more gently this time. “I was trying to protect you. Because I’ve been you. I am you. And it broke me once. And I couldn’t let you go through it without at least fighting for you. I won’t. Bonnie, you’re my best friend. The last thing I want you going through is what I’ve gone through with Danneel..”

“I don’t want you to fight me,” Bonnie said, eyes flicking up to yours. “I want you to understand, I want you to see that I want him, Stella. Whatever that takes. Just like you with Jensen..”

“I’m trying,” you said honestly. “But I’m scared for you. That’s what this is. I’m scared he’ll leave you in pieces and you’ll think it’s your fault. That’s not judgment, Bon. That’s love. Jensen was already divorced when we got together. Jeff isn’t.”

Bonnie looked down, pressing her knuckles into her eyes.

“I didn’t want to feel this way for him,” she said. “But I do. And I didn’t want to lie to you. But I did. And I’m sorry. I didn’t see him coming, I didn’t see my life being rearranged because I met someone who makes me feel like Jensen makes you feel.”

That cracked something loose in your chest. You exhaled. Slowly.

You stepped closer, reaching out — not to hug her yet, but just to be there.

“I missed you,” you said quietly. “Even when I was pissed at you. I still missed you.”

She looked up, finally letting a tear fall, and let out a shaky laugh. “You called me a side piece.”

“You called me insane.”

Another laugh. Softer this time. It hung in the quiet like a truce.

“Why are we like this?” she asked as you finally pulled her into a hug — not dramatic, not desperate, just needed.

You held her a little tighter.

“Because we’re best friends,” you murmured, “and sometimes loving each other means yelling until we hear each other again.”

She nodded into your shoulder, breath hitching. “Okay. No more yelling today.”

“Deal,” you said, closing your eyes. “Just… I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

“I do. I’m ready. Whatever happens I’ll be ready. I’m not afraid to cut a bitch.” She laughed a little.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A little later, Jensen walked into the kitchen where Stella was bobbing her head to the music playing softly through the house. She stood at the stove in skin-tight jeans and his color-block grey sweater—the one she’d claimed was “oversized,” like it was some sort of fashion statement.

Jensen knew better.

She just wanted to wear something that smelled like him.

Or, at least she did this morning. Now she wasn’t talking to him.

He stepped closer, hesitating for a second before wrapping his arms around her waist. She jumped slightly at his touch but didn’t pull away like she had earlier. Progress, maybe. Bonnie and Jeff were out on the back patio, the sliding door shut behind them.

Stella glanced over her shoulder, eyes unreadable, lips pressed into a neutral line.

Still no words.

She hadn’t spoken to him since she got home. Not really. She listened when he talked, offered the occasional nod or a lift of her eyebrows, but not a single word had passed her lips. And it was killing him.

Jensen knew she was upset. She had every right to be.

He should have told her everything. Then maybe her and Bonnie wouldn’t have fought, she was more frustrated at the fact he’d given her just enough information to piss her off.

If the roles were reversed, he’d be furious too.

But the silence? The silence was worse than yelling. It filled the air with tension he couldn’t fix. And after the day she’d had, the last thing he wanted was to be another thing she carried.

“Still mad at me?” he whispered, voice low against the shell of her ear.

Stella didn’t answer—not at first. Her fingers, though, found the edge of his hoodie, twisting into the fabric like she was thinking. Or deciding. Her knuckles brushed against his side. Then she turned in his arms, slow and deliberate, eyes searching his face.

Her small smile wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet.

But it was something.

And before he could say anything else, she leaned in—quick, almost impatient—and kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It was frustration and hurt and everything she hadn’t said all day. Jensen responded instantly, pulling her close with one hand at her waist, the other tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head to find more of her. He kissed her like it was the only way he knew how to apologize. Like he needed her to understand how sorry he was.

And when he felt her melt into him—when her body relaxed and her hand fisted in the front of his hoodie—he knew she was still mad.

But she wasn’t leaving.

And for now, that was enough.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathing hard, Jensen didn’t let go.

Her forehead rested against his, and for a second the music faded into the background.

“I should’ve told you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I was trying to let Bonnie come to you. But you wouldn’t have kept it from me. You would have told me to keep my mouth shut and act like I didn’t know a damn thing, but I get now how that’s not what it felt like. And I’m sorry.”

She didn’t say anything for a beat. Just breathed. Her lips parted like she might speak, but then closed again.

“Jay,” she finally said, voice quiet, hoarse. “It’s not about that, not really. It’s that you called, and told me you saw her after how worried I’ve been, and said you knew what was going on but wouldn’t tell me. That’s my best friend… I wouldn’t have done that. I would have told you everything you’re right. And I would have told you to keep your mouth shut. I get why you did it. And I respect that. It’s just… after Danneel showing up, my nerves were already on edge. I took it out on you and Bonnie and I’m sorry..”

Her words hit him square in the chest.

“Don’t be sorry, you’ve taken more on since you’ve been with me. I should have given you a little grace and not Bonnie’s coming to talk to you, I know what’s going on. But I’m letting her tell you,” he said quickly, fingers brushing her cheek. “I just… fuck I was trying to do the right thing..”

She nodded, then looked down, stepping back a little, but not all the way out of his arms. Her fingers played with the hem of his hoodie.

“I know, and I acted like a brat, I’m so sorry,” she said.

He nodded. “Don’t be sorry, it’s done its over. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“Let’s just agree neither of us should be sorry,” she murmured. “Emotions are high. Stress is higher. But… I missed you today.”

That cracked him open a little.

“I missed you too,” he said, his forehead still resting gently against hers. “All day. Every second.”

She looked up again. This time, her smile was real—small, tired, but undeniably there.

“Please don’t drop cryptic info Danneel showed up at the salon. I was already halfway to an emotional meltdown. Just tell me whoever it is is okay so I don’t completely lose my shit.” She exhaled shakily. “I swear to God, if someone called and said over you but wouldn’t say why… I’d think something happened to you. I’d think someone hurt you. I’d go to jail.”

You laughed a little, head resting against his chest, hands gripping his shoulders. You felt his arms tighten around you, solid and grounding.

“Never again,” he whispered into your hair. “You’re too protective for your own good, you know that?”

He kissed the top of your head.

“And I love you for it.”

And he meant every word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The brewery had never felt more alive. Strings of warm white lights crisscrossed the ceiling beams, twinkling like stars. Garlands and red plaid ribbons wrapped around the barrels and rafters, and the whole place smelled like pine, cinnamon, and malted hops. The beer garden, usually just rustic picnic tables and string lights, had been transformed into a winter wonderland—well, a Texas-style one, which meant no snow, but somehow it didn’t need it.

Kids chased each other between vendor tables draped in plaid and burlap even his own, grabbing candy canes and gingerbread cookies shaped like Baby, Castiel, Sam and Dean, quotes from the show you name it. Courtesy of Bridgette and Ivy and Jensen's kitchen. A giant wreath framed the entrance to the outdoor space, and a wooden sign Stella had painted herself read “Merry Christmas from the FBBC Family” in curling red script. There were Christmas carols softly playing from a speaker by the bar, but mostly it was the laughter, the conversations, the clink of glasses and the low hum of family that filled the air.

Jensen wandered through it all, a beer in hand, still reeling a bit. ‘The Winchester Winter Ale’ whiz was his own personal secret project he’d worked on in the garage after coming home from Toronto, had turned out better than he’d even hoped, crisp and slightly spiced with cinnamon and cloves, and seeing the six-packs in those hand-tied gift bags Stella made… God, it meant more than he could put into words. People had shown up. Fans, friends, family—even people he hadn’t seen in years. And every single one of them was wearing those ridiculous FBBC Christmas shirts, the ones Stella had insisted needed glitter. They were awful. He loved them.

A group was gathered near the picnic tables, all admiring the matching pins and ornaments from the bags. Jensen smiled as he saw a kid pointing at Baby with antlers, the tiny silhouettes of Sam looking terrified and Dean in the driver with a wide smile, tugging a sleigh with a cartoon Santa. Stella had squealed when Bonnie sent the mockup after a night of way too many laughs and not enough alcohol for Jensen. They’d come up with it.. “It’s so stupid, it’s perfect,” she’d said. And it was.

Someone was unknowingly agreeing with Stella over the candle she’d ordered for the bags, “it’s exactly what I think Dean would smell like.” He heard and laughed a little.

And then, in the middle of it all, there she was.

Stella.

Her laugh cut through the noise like sunlight. She had that easy joy about her, like everything she touched just brightened. Jensen’s chest tightened in the best way. She wasn’t trying to prove anything. She was just here. With him. Her boots kicked at a stray ornament that had rolled out of a gift bag, and she bent to pick it up, brushing her hair from her face. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and the sleeves of her flannel were pushed up, revealing the bracelet he’d gotten her last month, and the dark green Christmas fbbc with gold lettering shirt everyone was now wearing.

God, he loved her.

She looked up and caught him staring. “You spacing out over there?” she teased, walking over, hands tucked into her vest.

“Only about you,” he said, and the way her smile softened—it got him every time.

“Smooth,” she replied.

Before he could respond, two high-pitched gasps cut through the moment.

“Oh my God.”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

Bridgette and Ivy had arrived in full stealth mode, Ivy holding something high above her head: a glittery, ridiculous sprig of mistletoe. Bridgette grinned like she was about to officiate a wedding.

“Don’t mind us,” Ivy said, waggling her eyebrows.

Behind them, Bonnie, Misha, Jeff, and Jared—already a few beers in—caught on immediately.

“KISS HER!” Jared yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“KISS HER!” Bonnie echoed.

Even Jeff chimed in, nudging Misha with a laugh. “Tradition, man!”

Misha shrugged, grinning. “You have to. Its a Christmas rule..”

Jensen laughed, shaking his head as the whole crowd started to pick up the chant. “KISS HER! KISS HER!”

He looked at Stella, who raised a single brow, utterly unbothered. “You gonna let ‘em down?” she asked, eyes sparkling.

“Not a chance.”

He pulled her in gently, one arm around her waist, the other brushing a strand of hair from her face. The kiss was soft at first, but full of meaning—warm and full of all the years behind him and the hope in front of him.

The brewery erupted in cheers. Ivy and Bridgette fist-bumped. Someone yelled, and tiny bits of red and gold rained down over them. From Where? He didn’t want to know.

Jensen held her for a second longer, forehead pressed to hers.

“Thanks for all this,” he whispered.

“You did it,” she replied.

He shook his head. “Not without you.”

And it was true. She’d brought him back to life—not just as a dad, not just as a friend or an actor—but as a man who believed again. In family, in joy, in the kind of love that didn’t need to be flashy to be real. She’d made this—all of this—possible.

The night rolled on with more laughter, more stories, more memories made under twinkling lights and winter skies, fans toasted to new friendships, and Jensen stood there in the heart of it all, beer in hand, heart full.

Christmas had always been about more than presents. But this year, for the first time in a long time, it felt like home.

The firepit crackled low beside them later in the day, warm against the cooler December night. Stella curled against his side beneath a worn flannel blanket, their boots tangled, half-empty beers resting at their feet. Her head tucked beneath his jaw. The smell of woodsmoke, peppermint, and beer still hung in the air, but it felt quiet now. Sacred, almost.

He hadn’t felt this kind of peace in years.

“You think about what the lawyer said?” he murmured into her hair.

She didn’t move, but he felt the change in her body—like her muscles remembered the tension she always kept buried. Just yesterday, his lawyer had asked if Stella would be willing to testify. Not because Jensen wanted it, but because Danneel had made it unavoidable. She’d dragged Stella’s name through the dirt. Twisted her past. Weaponized her childhood. All to paint Jensen as unstable—unfit.

He hadn’t wanted Stella near any of it. Not this. Not that courtroom. Not the rot.

But he already knew her answer before she said it.

“I’m going to do it,” she whispered.

His breath left him in a low, shaky exhale. Not frustration. Not surprise. Just a bitter mix of gratitude, guilt, and awe.

She always said she was here—all the way down—but sometimes he forgot what that actually meant. Not flowers and sunshine. But this. The hard stuff. The bruised, silent kind of loyalty that didn’t ask for anything in return.

“I really don’t want you to,” he said honestly.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, clutching there gently. Looking at him with soft but serious eyes then. “I told you… I’m not going anywhere. Even if it means sitting in a courtroom and telling them exactly who she is.”

He lowered his head, forehead resting on your shoulder like he could hide from the world right there. The fire cracked, casting shadows across the stones, but all he could feel was your heartbeat beneath his.

“I hate that she pulled your mom into it,” he muttered. “I hate that she even knew.”

“She went looking,” you said simply. “Found where I was weakest and went digging. But it’s fine. I survived my mother. I’ll survive her, too.”

He sat back slightly, and in the firelight, he finally looked at you—really looked. To him You weren’t scared. You were calm. Steady. Unshakable in the way only someone who’s walked through fire can be.

“You’re stronger than I ever give you credit for,” he said softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “You’re this quiet force I didn’t even know I needed until I had you.”

You blinked, surprised by the rawness of it, but he meant every damn word. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this deeply for someone—this safe.

“Don’t go falling apart on me now,” you teased, your voice light, trying to break the heaviness of the moment. But he didn’t smile.

“I’m not. I’m just seeing it all clearly for once.” He kissed your temple. “I love you.”

And then he stilled.

His entire body went rigid against yours as his eyes tracked something—or someone—across the room.

You turned slightly in his arms, your stomach dropping the moment you followed his line of sight.

Danneel.

Standing near the edge of the crowd, dressed like she belonged there, sipping a drink like she hadn’t crashed the one place Jensen had asked to be off-limits. Her eyes found him almost instantly. The smirk that played across her face made it clear: she knew she wasn’t supposed to be there.

“She’s not supposed to be here,” Jensen said, already pulling away from you, his voice low but simmering.

“I know,” you said, grabbing his wrist before he could move too fast. “Wait. Don’t give her what she wants.”

His jaw clenched. “What she wants is to prove I can’t keep control of my own space. And my head around the kids..”

“No,” you corrected gently. “What she wants is to make you lose control in your own space. Make the kids see you as some monster they know you aren’t.”

That gave him pause. His breath was short, hands fisting at his sides. But he didn’t move forward.

You curled a little closer, eyes still locked on Danneel’s.

“She doesn’t win here, either,” you said so softly he barely heard it looking at you softly. Suddenly the kids were walking fast towards you. Jensen motioned for them to walk inside and the two of you followed getting up quickly.

And slowly—deliberately—Jensen reached for your hand again.

“Why is she here?” JJ asked as the door clicked shut behind them. The room wasn’t empty—there were people inside, conversations echoing—but Jensen didn’t care.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “But we’re not giving her what she wants.”

His voice was steady. Resolved.

“So, y’all do what feels right. If you want to see her, that’s your choice. If you don’t, that’s yours too. I’ll respect it either way. No pressure. I’m not forcing anything.”

Jensen stood with Cliff, Jared, and his parents—watching the kids carefully. Watching her. Danneel hovered nearby, trying not to look out of place while clearly waiting for an opportunity. But she wouldn’t get it. Not again.

The one time she tried to force a moment with Arrow, she hadn’t noticed you—standing just beyond the bounce house, casually talking with Gen while Arrow and Odette played.

She didn’t expect Arrow to climb out without even glancing at her as she called her name. She walked straight past, wrapped her small fingers around yours, and never looked back.

She hadn’t tried it again.

And she never tried with JJ. The oldest stayed glued to Bonnie’s side, arms crossed, expression unreadable. She’d unofficially appointed herself bodyguard, and she wasn’t taking that job lightly.

Zeppelin stayed close to Jared and Jensen, helping set up the stage for the concert. Radio Company might’ve disbanded, but it had taken Jensen only one call to Rich and Rob to get a show together.

Still, there were whispers. Danneel’s presence didn’t go unnoticed. Questions hung in the air like fog: Why weren’t the kids going to her? Why did they cling so close to Jensen? Even you?

Some chalked it up to time—maybe they just missed their dad, since they didn’t live with him. They didn’t know the truth. And Jensen wasn’t about to hand it over just to silence speculation.

You stood with Donna and Alan near the back, the girls on one side of you, the kids gathered quietly in front. Calm. Happy.

And when Jensen looked over at the scene—his kids close, his parents steady, and you in the center of it—he didn’t have to wonder who really showed up for him.

He already knew. Family wasn’t always blood—but it showed up when it mattered.

Danneel kept her eyes on the group. Jensen didn’t miss it—not the way her gaze lingered too long, nor the subtle edge in her posture like she was calculating her next move.

He also didn’t miss the quiet shifts in the room.

Jeff stood off to the side, near Jared but pointedly away from Bonnie. Gen had moved closer to JJ, her arm draped lightly across the girl’s shoulders in silent support. A small but clear wall had formed—one Danneel wasn’t welcome behind.

Then, you leaned down and whispered something to the kids as the noise died down and the stage lights warmed the space. Whatever you said made Arrow grin and JJ giggle. Zeppelin turned and gave a thumbs-up toward the stage.

Jensen looked over at Rob, who gave him a nod, the silent green light to begin.

From the back of the room, clear and proud:

“Go, Dad!”

The sound lit him up.

He didn’t bother hiding the smile that took over his face as he turned toward them, eyes landing first on the kids, then on you. Your smile was already there—bright, full of pride and warmth, as if the lights were shining just for him.

And then the music started.

Like always, Jensen came alive on stage. Whatever weight he’d carried into the room fell away with the first chord. His voice rang out with the easy confidence of someone who belonged exactly where he was. The kids clapped and laughed, delighting in their father’s exaggerated dance moves and playful energy.

He was in his element—and it was beautiful to watch.

And then the chords changed.

The opening notes of “I’ll Follow You” spilled through the speakers.

Your breath caught. You hadn’t expected that one.

It wasn’t just a song—it was your song. The one he would hum to you late at night, whispered across a FaceTime line when distance made everything ache. The one he sang into your hair, arms wrapped around you in bed, the world forgotten. The one that made you believe him before you ever dared say “I love you” out loud.

Now, here he was, singing it again—but this time in front of everyone.

And yet somehow, it still felt like it was only for you.

His voice softened just enough in the first verse, eyes scanning the crowd, then settling on you as if pulled by instinct. And when he reached the chorus, his gaze didn’t waver.

You felt it in your chest. A quiet weight pressing into your ribs—the mix of memory and promise. Your eyes stung, but you didn’t look away. He was giving you this moment, and you took it like a vow.

Beside you, now sitting between the girls JJ curled into your side, while Arrow leaned forward, eyes glued to her dad on stage. Zep had relaxed, his head resting against Gen’s shoulder, a small smile finally pulling at his lips.

Danneel was still there, but fading into the background.

Because this wasn’t about her anymore.

This was about a man who refused to be broken—and the people who refused to let him stand alone.

He finished the song with a quiet smile and a soft thank-you to the crowd, but his eyes didn’t leave you.

Not once.

Applause broke out around you, loud and sincere, but it felt distant. Fuzzy. Like everything outside that moment was underwater. Because all you could feel was your heart pounding in your chest, and the weight of his gaze holding you steady like a hand to your spine.

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until he stepped down from the stage.

He weaved through a few people, stopping to hug Zeppelin, kiss Arrows cheek with a bright smile. And a kiss to JJ's head and a quiet word that made her nod.

But then he was in front of you. Taking your hand, and leading you to the bar.

Just you and him, out in the open yet the moment hidden.

There were still people moving around you, music playing low in the background, laughter somewhere across the room—but none of it mattered.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and a little breathless.

Your lips tilted in a soft smile. “Hey, rockstar.”

Jensen chuckled, eyes dropping for a second before flicking back to yours. “I didn’t plan to sing that one. It just… felt right.”

You swallowed. “It was.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“I mean it, every time I sing that to you. I mean it,” he said.

You blinked. “I know.”

“No—really mean it,” he said, stepping in just a little closer. His hand brushed your waist, grounding, warm. “I know this whole thing’s been chaos. And ugly. And heavy. But when I looked at you out there…” He exhaled. “I felt like I could breathe again. For the first time in weeks. You’ve been this anchor since day one. You just took it all on when it wasn’t yours to carry, and I admire that—you.”

You didn’t speak. You just let your hands slide up to his chest, fingers resting over where his heart still beat fast beneath your palm.

“Do you know what it feels like to be seen like that?” you asked softly.

His brow furrowed gently. “What do you mean?”

“You looked at me like you were singing to me… not just about me. Like I wasn’t just part of your life, but the place you land. I don’t think it’s ever felt like that before.”

He leaned in, forehead resting against yours, voice barely more than a breath.

“It felt like it because that’s exactly what I was doing. Baby You are the place I land.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, soaking in the weight of that. Not a promise thrown into the air. A truth. A choice.

You smiled again—quiet and certain.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” you whispered, not because you were trying to prove something, but because he needed to hear it at this moment. “This life, those kids, I don’t get it. But I love every second of it.”

“I wonder the same thing every morning I wake up next to you,” he murmured. “No matter what we’ve faced, and lately it’s been on all sides. We've made it.”

Then, in the middle of the noise and the music and the wandering eyes that still hadn’t looked away, he kissed you.

Not like he was trying to make a statement.

But like he was trying to remember the shape of home.

And when he pulled back, his voice was almost a whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you too Jay.” You smiled softly.

“Say it again.”

You didn’t even hesitate. “I love you.”

His thumb brushed your cheek, eyes searching yours like he was still memorizing every second of this. “One more time.”

You grinned. “I love you.”

He laughed—soft, relieved, a little overwhelmed from the day.

Then his expression shifted just slightly, his mouth twitching at the corner. “Okay, but now say it like you really mean it.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just making sure it wasn’t a fluke,” he said, feigning innocence. “You know, could’ve been an emotional slip. Sudden burst of adrenaline. Pure chaos of my voice echoing through a sound system.”

You gave him a light smack on the chest. “You sing one song and suddenly you’re a rock god who needs affirmation?”

Jensen grinned, leaning closer. “I’m just saying—it’s been a long week. Might need to hear it a few more times. For… recovery purposes.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “I love you, you dramatic pain in my ass.”

“There it is,” he said, satisfied. “That’s the one.”

He kissed you again—still smiling against your lips. And as the room buzzed and the lights glowed soft behind him.

“I want to ask you something.” He began but then you were crowded by the kids, the moment faded. And your eyes met Danneel’s as their easy smiles and laughs filled your ears.

She hadn’t won.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night wound down in a blur of hugs, sleepy kids, and Jensen being stopped every few steps by someone wanting to take a Picture with him or thank him for the music and party. You helped wrangle backpacks and jackets, guiding little arms into sleeves, smoothing tangled hair, and trying to keep Arrow from climbing into the back of Jared’s truck instead of her own car.

JJ walked ahead with Jensen, already pulling her hoodie over her head, clearly exhausted but finally relaxed. Zeppelin lagged a little behind, talking to Rob and clutching a folded piece of paper—something Jensen had scrawled earlier that evening and handed it to him like it was a secret only they could share.

The kids piled into your SUV, seat belts clicking into place amid tired murmurs of “Can we get pancakes tomorrow?” and “Dad, your concert voice is different from your house voice.”

You were buckling Arrow in when your phone buzzed in your back pocket.

You didn’t think much of it—probably Gen checking in, or maybe Bonnie asking why you were dipping early.

But when you glanced at the screen, confusion rose. Jensen looked back at you as you held your finger up to say “hang on” .

Julie

Your landlord. the one you’d been renting from for nearly nine years. Sweet, older, always sent you cards on holidays and knocked twice before entering if maintenance needed to stop by. You hadn’t spoken to her in weeks.

You answered quickly, stepping a few feet away from the car.

“Hey, Julie—everything okay?”

There was a pause. Not ominous. Just hesitant. Like she didn’t want to ruin something.

“Hi sweetheart. Sorry to call so late, I know you’ve probably had a busy day.”

You glanced back at the car. Jensen was leaning into the front seat, helping JJ untangle her headphones from a bag she’d accidentally sat on.

“Yeah, just wrapping up. What’s going on?”

She exhaled. “Well… I wanted to give you a heads-up before anything official came through.”

Your heart started to thump. “About what?”

“I’ve decided to sell the house,” she said gently. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I got an offer this week. A cash buyer. It’s moving fast.”

You blinked. “Wait—sell it? Julie, I thought—?”

“I know, and you’ve been an incredible tenant, truly. But I’m getting older, and managing everything on my own has been harder than I want to admit. This felt like the right time. I promise I’ll give you proper notice—sixty days at least—but I wanted you to hear it from me.”

You swallowed, heart sinking. “Yeah. No, I get it. Thank you for telling me.”

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

You managed a weak smile even though she couldn’t see it. “It’s okay.”

You hung up slowly, staring at your screen for a second before tucking it back into your pocket.

The warmth from earlier lingered, but a new kind of weight settled over your shoulders. You hadn’t expected to feel so unmoored. That house wasn’t just a place you lived. It was the only steady thing you’d had for years.

“You good?”

You turned.

Jensen was standing there, eyes on yours, keys in hand, concern already written across his face.

You opened your mouth to lie. To say yeah, of course, just tired.

But instead, you sighed and said:

“My landlord’s selling the house.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Yours?”

You nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Avoiding Jensens questions that night at his house.

The next day when you woke up, he was on the phone. You could hear him talking to what could only be the lawyers again. The house was quiet which signaled the kids probably weren't there. Donna and Alan wanted to take them shopping.

When you hit the last step on the stairs you saw Jared standing in the kitchen with him.

“No, no—because it isn’t her responsibility. No. Yes I do. Yes she is, it doesn’t change anything. You already asked her to testify. Now—I understand that. I know… I just think you’re asking me to ask her to take on something that isn’t her burden to carry..” you rounded the corner then. Jared looked at you quickly. Jensen's eyes following.

“I’ve got to go.” He laid his phone on the island and hung his head for a moment.

Jensen took a breath, ran a hand through his hair, and looked up at you with that familiar crease between his brows—part worry, part exhaustion, part something he wasn’t ready to say.

Jared gave you a small nod. “I’m gonna go check on the coffee,” he said quietly, already making himself scarce as he slipped out the back door and left you two alone in the kitchen.

You stood there for a second, eyes flicking between him and the phone still resting on the island. “That sounded… intense,” you said gently, stepping closer.

He exhaled through his nose, then shook his head. “It’s the lawyers. Custody stuff.” His tone was clipped, but not cold. Just tired.

You leaned on the island across from him, watching the way he kept avoiding your eyes. “Are they pushing for something new?”

He hesitated.

“They want to label you,” he said finally. “Legally.”

You blinked. “Label me?”

“They want to petition for you to be de-facto step-parent. Which leads to legally significant other,” he added, his voice thick with something more than just frustration now. “It would give you partial authority over the kids when I’m gone. Which, on paper, makes everything easier. For school, doctors, emergencies.”

You felt your breath hitch, but you couldn’t quite tell if it was nerves or confusion or the heaviness in his voice.

“Alright, well you said no so what now?” you asked cautiously.

“I don't—I don't know, we're trying to build a life here.” he said almost to himself, like he was beating himself up over it.

You laid your hand on his arm trying to ground him.

“Its okay, to not be alright with it. Those are your kids Jay, we've been together four months. Maybe your parents would step in.” you said softly.

He looked at you then—really looked. “It’s not that I’m not okay with it. You are one of the only ones I trust with them like that. I just… I hate the way they’re pushing it. Like it’s a checkbox. A legal fix. And it’s not that simple.”

You stepped closer. “Then tell me what is.”

Jensen’s jaw clenched. “I want to do this right. With you. Not because they tell me it’s convenient or efficient or whatever the hell. But because we choose it. Because I love you. Because I want you here—not just on paper, not just because it makes legal sense, but because I wake up and want you next to me. Because I want you in this—all of this—with me. On our terms.”

His voice cracked a little on the last few words, and you felt something inside you shift.

He looked away again, like he hadn’t meant to say that much.

“So what did you tell them?” you asked softly.

“That it’s not your responsibility,” he said firmly. “That I’m not dragging you into something you didn't sign up for. That you’re not just a placeholder or a box to tick.”

Your chest felt tight. “But… Jensen I told you whatever it took. If this is what it takes to give them the life they deserve then I don't care what boxes need to be checked. As long as you end up with them. I want to be with you, I don't know how many more ways I can say that for you to understand. I'm not going anywhere.” you said quietly.

His eyes found yours again, softer now. “Then I want it to be because you said so. Not because a lawyer shoved paperwork across a desk.”

You gave a small, understanding nod. “Okay, well, then I’m saying ill do what it takes.. So… what happens now?”

Jensen pulled you in to him between his knees on the bar stool looking atyouwith soft tiredeyes, taking your hand in his. “Now?” He paused for just a beat before glancing at you again, his tone shifting gently. “What are you gonna do about your place? You said the landlord’s selling it, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, exhaling. “Gave me sixty days' notice this morning. Through a text. Said the new buyers want to gut it or flip it or something. I don’t even think they care that people live there. Why?”

He nodded slowly, thumb brushing lightly across your hand. “So… what are you gonna do?”

You shrugged, a little more helplessly than you intended. “I don’t know. I’ve been looking around. Everything’s either not where I want to be or will already gone by the time I call. I’ll figure it out.”

There was a pause. A longer one this time.

Jensen was still holding your hand, but now he was looking at you differently. A little more carefully. Like he was working something out in his head.

“You know…” he started, then trailed off.

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He gave a half-smile, awkward and a little sheepish—rare for him. “I mean, it’s just… we’re already doing the hard part. The schedules, the mornings, the late nights with homework. The cereal negotiations.”

You laughed, catching on to his tone, but not quite the meaning. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying… I don’t want to come back to this house if you’re not in it,” Jensen said, his voice low, steady—but laced with something raw underneath. “We’ve basically lived together since Thanksgiving, and I didn’t expect that to feel so natural. But it does. And I didn’t think I’d want this again—any of it. I thought that part of my life was just… over.”

He paused, searching your face like he needed you to hear every word he hadn’t quite said yet.

“But being with you… it’s different. I don’t want to go back to the way things were before you. I can’t.”

Your heart thudded once, heavy and full, and he pulled you a little closer, his hand brushing against yours.

“Screw the lawyers, and their labels, and whatever titles they’re pushing. That’s not what this is about. I love you. I’m in love with you. And I want you here—not because someone says it makes sense on paper, but because every part of me feels more at peace when you’re around.”

His voice softened even more, like he was saying something sacred.

“I want to come home to this damn house and have you be here. Because it feels like a home for the first time since I bought this place. I want you visiting me on set, holding your coffee and rolling your eyes when I’m being dramatic. I want to fall asleep next to you. Wake up to you. Build something real with you. I want to be jealous of my fucking bed because you're here and I'm not.”

You felt your eyes sting, but you didn’t speak—you didn’t want to interrupt whatever this was building into.

“I was going to ask you yesterday,” he admitted with a small, breathy laugh. “Right before the kids completely hijacked the moment. Then you got that call… and everything shifted. But if I don’t ask now, I feel like I’ll keep missing the right time.”

He reached out fully then, his hand curling around yours like it was the easiest, most natural thing in the world.

“So I’m asking now,” he said softly. “Will you move in? Will you stay? not because lawyers want you to. But because I want you to. We want you to. So Will you be here… with me?”

The moment stretched, warm and real and full of everything he was finally ready to give.

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire damn life.” He smiled softly.

You didn’t say anything for a second—you just stepped forward, wrapped your arms around him, and leaned into his chest. His hands slid up your back without hesitation, holding you like it was the only thing keeping him steady.

You spoke into his shirt. “So… we’ll need to talk about the unorganized kitchen.”

He huffed a laugh, arms tightening around you. “Yeah, I figured.”

And just like that, it wasn’t about labels or forms or custody lawyers anymore.

It was about you and him.

Choosing this life. Together.

“I love you too Jensen.” You whispered looking up at him, making him smile. He didn’t respond, only a short sweet kiss landed on your lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four days later.

The living room looked like Christmas had exploded.

Wrapping paper was everywhere—cascading off the couch, buried under the coffee table, crumpled in corners, clinging to socks and elbows. Half-assembled toys lay in strategic piles across the rug: Barbie’s dream kitchen in progress, a castle fort being overtaken by toy dinosaurs, a remote-control car with one missing wheel that Arrow had insisted she could fix with duct tape and glitter.

JJ sat in the middle of it all, her hair in two slightly lopsided braids, wearing a fuzzy pink robe she hadn’t taken off since unwrapping it. Arrow was buzzing between her and Zeppelin, who was clutching his new stuffed bear like it held all the secrets of the universe.

And in the middle of it all—Jensen. Cross-legged on the floor, his t-shirt dotted with specks of glitter, some kind of sticker stuck to his shoulder courtesy of Arrow. Laughing. Helping untangle a necklace JJ got from you. Playing referee between toy instructions and overzealous building efforts.

It was chaos. It was joy.

It was the kind of morning you never experienced before them.

You stood off to the side for a moment, mug of coffee in hand, just watching. Your heart full. Your cheeks flushed not from the heater but from the weightless kind of happiness you'd never quite known before now.

This—this—was what you had said yes to. Not just to Jensen, but to them. To all of it.

You were still soaking it in when Jensen’s phone rang.

He excused himself with a kiss to Arrow’s head and a squeeze to your hand before stepping into the kitchen, phone pressed to his ear. You could see him through the doorway—his body went still, then tense, and then slowly eased again. His eyes lifted, meeting yours across the space.

Something had shifted.

He came back after the call with a kind of quiet in his steps, but a different kind of quiet than you'd seen in him before. This wasn’t the weight of uncertainty. This was something new. Something lighter. Something final.

The kids were too wrapped up in their mountain of new treasures to notice right away, but you looked up as he returned and met his gaze.

"It’s done," he said softly.

You blinked. "What's done?"

He laughed a little. "The judge reviewed everything the day before yesterday…they called because they didn’t want us walking into the new year with it still hanging over us. I’m busy, they need stability."

Her heart picked up, nerves rising. "And?”

"They granted it, no hearing, no mediation between Danneel and I" Jensen said, his voice breaking just a little. "Full custody. I'm over the kids until she fixes her shit, and she only gets them supervised until further notice and on their terms and mine, but they're mine. They're home.." his voice cracked jaw ticking in a way that said he was holding it all in.

She stepped closer, stunned. "Wait—they granted it without a court date?"

"Yeah, because–" he said, a little stunned himself. "The testimony you wrote… it mattered. A lot. They said it was honest and grounded, and it helped them see the home these kids have now. The home we’ve made sweetheart. The stability, the joy, all of it. JJs statement wanting to be here, he read it all.”

You swallowed hard, eyes burning. "But what about Danneel?"

"She… fought," Jensen admitted, "but the judge saw through most of it. Especially after bringing your mom into it to scare you off in Nashville, and everything else, she gets visitation. When the kids are ready…” You tensed. Thinking the worst as he trailed off.

"And when they found out about the affair—her and Steve—before the divorce was even happened… that didn’t help her case either."

Your brows lifted. "They found that out?"

Jensen nodded. "Lawyers traced everything. Even the timeline from the videos in Nashville. She lied in mediation, and that was it. The judge basically said her behavior disqualified her from trying to manipulate custody."

You blew out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

He reached for your hand gently, grounding you. "The best part though…" His smile softened. "They approved your designation as de-facto parent. It’s not finalized until we send it back in after the break, but… it’s official. They said you’re trusted to act in my place when I’m gone."

Your eyes widened. "They granted it?"

He nodded again, emotion threading through every word. "You’re it, baby. When I’m on set, when I’m traveling, if something comes up and yall are here—you’re their emergency contact, their voice, their safe space. I’ll always be a phone call away. But they know… they know you’re the only one I trust."

Your hand tightened in his, heart practically bursting. "Jensen…"

"I know," he said softly. "I know sweetheart." Pulling you in to a tight hug kissing your temple

“Before you, none of this made sense. I wouldn’t have had the courage, the love, the life… not like this. Not to fight for them. And win. Not without you.” He whispered.

The kids burst into another round of excited squealing over a puzzle, and it pulled a laugh from both of you.

The house was still chaotic. Still warm. Still full of the mess and magic of living. And for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, it felt like everything was exactly where it was meant to be.

Jensen hadn’t expected anything. Not really. The morning had already given him more than enough—kids piling into their bed at sunrise, coffee in hand, laughter echoing through the halls of a house that somehow still felt like a dream. So when Stella turned to him, eyes shimmering with unshed tears and a joy he didn’t yet understand, he just smiled.

But then—without a word—she stepped away, disappearing behind the tree. A moment later, she came back through the kitchen, holding a small box wrapped in deep green paper, tied with a gold ribbon that looked like she’d probably re-tied it three times just to make sure it was perfect.

She held it out to him. “Merry Christmas, Jay,” she whispered.

He blinked. “You didn’t have to—”

“Shut up and open it,” she grinned, that mischievous sparkle in her eye that had undone him from the start.

He laughed softly, taking the gift and peeling the paper with care. Inside was a sleek black box. Familiar. When he lifted the lid, his breath caught. He didn’t speak at first—just stared, mouth parted slightly.

The Rolex.

The one he’d admired in passing months ago—twice, maybe three times—but never dared to buy. He’d told himself he had other priorities. That it wasn’t the time. That life was too full, too messy, too busy. He’d walked away from it, like he had with so many things recently.

“Stella…” he said, voice low.

She stepped in closer, smile softening. “Jared may have sent me the link,” she said, gently teasing, “and I may have had Cliff make an extra stop after I stole one of the others to make sure it was right.”

He let out a breath of stunned laughter, still staring down at the watch like it might vanish.

“This is… you didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” she said, her voice shifting—deeper, steadier. Full of emotion that reached into him and didn’t let go. “Jensen, you’ve given me more than I ever dreamed someone like me could have. You gave me a home—not just walls and windows, but one with real love inside it. You gave me warmth, safety, a kind of everyday magic I never believed in before you. You gave me chaos and laughter and the sound of kids running down hallways and pancakes at midnight. You gave me you—your whole, messy, beautiful heart. Even when it was hard. Even when you were scared. You showed up. Over and over. And somewhere along the way… I stopped surviving and started living. Because of you. And if all I ever get to do for the rest of my life is love you and remind you of how damn worthy you are of every good thing—then that’s more than enough for me. So let me give you this. Just this. After everything you didn’t even realize you gave me.”

He looked up at her then, and his chest ached.

Because in that moment, standing in a living room full of torn wrapping paper and the faint sound of Christmas cartoons from the other room, Jensen Ackles realized something he’d never quite let himself believe before.

He had it.

He had everything he’d ever wanted.

The kind of love people spent their whole lives searching for. A family stitched together with trauma, love, and second chances. A woman who looked at him like he was it. Like he was enough. Finally.

He leaned in and kissed her—long and quiet, not rushed, not meant for anyone but her.

And when he pulled back, his voice was hoarse. “Best Christmas I’ve ever had. And not because of the watch.”

She grinned. “Was it the coffee in bed? Or the fact you still haven’t opened the presents from the kids?”

He chuckled, thumb brushing tenderly across her cheek. “Presents don’t matter, sweetheart. And coffee doesn’t touch it. I’ve got everything I want. Right here, with them— with you.”

From the kitchen came a shout—something about pancakes, and JJ possibly using whipped cream instead of syrup again.

Jensen laughed, heart full, and slid the Rolex onto his wrist.

He kissed her once more, deeply this time, and let himself feel it. Really feel it.

Peace.

Not the kind that comes in silence, but the kind that comes when you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Wrapped in love. Anchored by her.

And ready—finally—for everything that came next.

It was chaos again. Beautiful, perfect chaos.

Bonnie, Jeff, Jared, Gen, ALL of the kids, Bridgette and Ivy were all in the living room. Laughter filled the house like it was made for it.

Nothing had been cleaned up, neither of you minded. These were memories. Memories that would last a lifetime.

You were in the kitchen staring at the freezer like its inability to cook dinner on its own was offensive.

It was. You sighed softly. Closing it going back to square one.

And that’s when Jensen slipped away for a moment, disappearing down the hall while you helped Arrow sort through a glitter mishap at the kitchen table.

When he returned, he was holding a small, flat box—matte black with a silver ribbon tied carefully around it. He paused a few feet away, a flicker of nerves playing behind his smile.

"Hey, babe?”

She turned. "What is that?"

"Just one more," he said. "I’ve been holding onto this for weeks. And I know it’s not flashy. But I saw something similar, when I saw it I saw you, and tweaked it. To make it really special. And I don’t know I just, this was the one thing out of all of the presents and stuff from the kids and I that you needed to have. Honestly kinda like your explanation of the watch versus the new iPad. It’s a need." He smiled a little. Clearly nervous. Which only made you smile.

Her eyebrows rose. "The iPad vs. Jensen the iPad you need for work. The watch was something I needed you to have. Because you weren't going to let yourself have it.."

"Exactly," he interrupted with a quiet laugh. "Just shut up and open it." He grinned.

You gave him a look but took the box, untying the ribbon slowly. When you lifted the lid, the breath caught in your throat.

Inside was a silver necklace—a fine, delicate chain with a pendant in the center.

The pendant was shaped like a compass.

Small. Subtle. But diamond detailed. North, South, East, West—etched into the surface in the lightest gold. In the middle, where the needle would be, was a small, elegantly "J" in diamonds.

And engraved on the back, in Jensen’s handwriting—clearly etched from a custom mold—were the words:

‘No matter where life pulls us, we’ll always find our way back, to the love we built, to the quiet in the chaos. I’ll be your place to land, for as long as you’ll let me.’

You didn’t move at first.

Didn’t speak.

Your thumb brushed over the J. The compass. The weight of it in your hand like a tether.

"I told you, you are the place I land, the other night. And I’ve been trying to figure out what to have out on the back of this. When you said that. It hit me like a truck" Jensen said softly, "I know you never really had a place. And you always felt like you were passing through—like nothing ever held. So I wanted you to have this."

He reached for your hand, his fingers trembling just slightly, voice low and certain.

“Because this… this is your North now. Us. Me. Them. Wherever you go from here—this is home. Right here. With me.”

He paused, his smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, soft and a little unsure. “And that J? That’s your compass. That’s where you land—right in the middle of the chaos, right in the middle of me. No matter what comes, no matter how messy it gets… I want to be that place for you.”

His eyes searched yours, like he was anchoring himself there.

“I never thought I’d have this—something so real it scares me. Something I look at and just know. Sweetheart you the truest thing I’ve ever held. And I want to give you everything—everything I’ve been too afraid to offer before. No more hiding, no more holding back.”

He drew your hand to his chest, to the steady beat beneath.

“I love you.” He said softly. “Fuck I love you so damn much it rewrites every part of who I thought I was. I want to be your soft place to land. Because, baby… you’re the only place I’ve ever wanted to stay.”

You blinked once.

Then again. Your lip trembled slightly.

And then the tears came—unapologetically, beautifully, as you pressed the necklace to your heart and stared at him like he’d just handed you the world.

Which, in a way, he had.

You didn’t say a word—just leaned in and kissed him, your hands tangling in the back of his shirt like you never wanted to let go.

And you didn’t.

When you finally pulled back, breath catching, you whispered, "This is the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given me."

He smiled and brushed a tear from your cheek. "Then I did it right."

JJ appeared in the doorway wearing one of your scarves like a superhero cape. "Why are you crying?"

Arrow peeked in behind her. "We were gonna do second pancakes. With sprinkles."

You laughed through the tears and wiped your face. "I’ll be right there."

Jensen helped fasten the necklace around your neck, your fingers careful, reverent. The compass sat perfectly just below your collarbone—shining silver and gold against your skin.

It wasn’t a proposal.

But it was a promise.

And it was exactly the beginning you never knew you’d get.

As the kids called from the kitchen and you followed him out, hand still clasped in his, Jensen looked back once—just once—and let himself feel it again.

Peace.

Joy.

Home.

And the absolute certainty that no matter where life took you next, you’d find their way through it.

Together.

A/N: the amount of stress I went through with this. Yall are welcome. I have ten extra grey hairs. Yall get ready for a time jump. ❤️

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