#STILL HERE THOUGH!!!! just letting you know I am not going anywhere!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lila-lou · 3 days ago

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✨His true fate - Part 40/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, age gap

Word Count: 8374

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

Still, you found yourself moving, your feet carrying you upstairs as though on instinct. Each step felt heavier than the last, but you couldn’t stop. You needed to see him, to try one last time before the space between you became too wide to bridge.

When you reached the doorway of the bedroom, you paused, your heart sinking at the sight of him standing by the bed, zipping his suitcase shut. His shoulders were hunched, his movements slow, deliberate, as if he were trying to make it easier on himself. As if there was a way to make this easier at all.

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the doorframe for support. “Jensen”, you said softly, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

He froze for a moment, his back still to you. Then, with a deep breath, he turned, his green eyes meeting yours. They were tired, conflicted, but still the same eyes you’d looked into this morning, the same ones that had held yours so intently as he touched you, as he kissed you like he didn’t want to let go. Now, though, they carried a weight you hadn’t seen before—a heaviness that made your chest ache.

You bit your lip, feeling small and exposed under his gaze. “Are you really going to leave like this?”, you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “After everything?”.

He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of his own frustration and guilt was too much to bear. “Of course not”, he murmured, his voice low and filled with regret. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching up to gently cup your face. His touch was warm, familiar, and it sent a shiver through you despite the tension still hanging in the air.

Your lips parted, but you couldn’t find the words to say. His thumb brushed softly against your cheek, and his eyes softened, the storm in them momentarily quieted. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that”, he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I’m overwhelmed, (Y/N). And I hate that I’m making you feel like this”.

You searched his face, your own emotions swirling in a chaotic mix of anger, hurt, and longing. “Then why?”, you asked softly, your voice trembling. “Why does it feel like you’re pulling away? Like I’m losing you?”.

He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly as though trying to steady himself. “You’re not losing me”, he said firmly, his hand still cradling your face. “I just… I have to go back. Filming’s starting again, and there’s so much I have to handle. But… I didn’t want to leave like this, not with things feeling… broken”.

“Then don’t”, you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Don’t leave like this, Jensen. I can handle you being away for work, but not if it feels like you’re running from me. From us”.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he might argue, but then he sighed again, his forehead leaning against yours. “I’m not running”, he whispered. “I swear I’m not. I just… I need to get my head straight. This isn’t fair to you—not when I’m like this”.

You closed your eyes, letting his proximity ground you, even as his words stung. “You think I don’t feel the same?”, you asked, your voice cracking. “This is hard for me too, Jensen. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I just need to know you’re with me in this”.

“I am”, he said quickly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “I am with you. Even when it feels like I’m not, I swear I am”.

You bit your lip, trying to push back the tears threatening to spill. “Then show me”, you whispered. “Don’t just say it. Show me”.

His eyes opened, meeting yours, and you could see the conflict still flickering in them. But there was something else too—something steadier, deeper. “I will”, he promised softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll do better. I’ll find a way to fix this”.

You nodded against him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as if holding onto him could keep him from slipping away.

The two of you stood there for a moment, wrapped in the quiet, fragile peace of the moment. It wasn’t a perfect fix, and you knew there were still cracks that needed mending. But as long as he stayed true to his promise—as long as he kept fighting for you—you thought maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other.

The next few days were a small but noticeable shift. Jensen texted more—little check-ins, asking how you were doing, how you were feeling. He called during breaks on set, his voice quieter, softer than usual, but still trying. It wasn’t the same as having him there with you, but it was something. It was an effort, and that meant more than you could say.

But right now, sitting in the stiff, too-bright office of your new gynecologist, nerves twisting in your stomach, you felt the absence of him acutely. You wished for him so badly it hurt. Wished for the comfort of his hand in yours, the sound of his voice grounding you when the anxiety felt like too much.

Even if he weren’t in LA, though, you weren’t sure he’d want to be here. His emotions were still so raw, a whirlwind of fear, doubt, and guilt that neither of you fully knew how to navigate. You didn’t blame him, not entirely. This was hard for you too—an uncharted territory that neither of you had been prepared for.

Still, as you sat there, staring at the framed prints of flowers on the wall, you couldn’t stop the small pang of resentment that crept in alongside the longing. You were here, facing this, and he wasn’t. That fact alone felt heavier than it should have.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?”.

The nurse’s voice pulled you from your spiraling thoughts, and you looked up to see her standing in the doorway, clipboard in hand, a warm smile on her face. “Dr. Carter is ready for you”.

You nodded, standing on unsteady legs and following her into the exam room. The nurse chatted with you as she took your vitals, but the words blurred together, your mind too preoccupied with what was coming. The unknown of it all felt overwhelming.

When the doctor finally entered, she was kind and professional, her demeanor calm and reassuring. She asked questions—about your health, your symptoms, how you’d been feeling emotionally. You answered as best as you could, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest.

“I know this can be a lot to take in”, Dr. Carter said gently, her eyes kind as she finished jotting down notes. “But you’re not alone in this. We’ll take it one step at a time, okay?”.

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Okay”.

Dr. Carter offered a reassuring smile as she set her clipboard down and pulled on a pair of gloves. “Alright, (Y/N), I’m going to need you to take off your jeans so we can do an internal ultrasound”, she said gently. “This will give us the clearest view of the baby and help us confirm how everything is progressing”.

You nodded nervously, your hands already moving to unbutton your jeans. Your fingers trembled slightly, but Dr. Carter’s calm presence helped steady you.

As you slipped out of your jeans and settled back on the exam table with a thin sheet draped over your lower half, she chuckled softly, her tone light. “And while we’re at it, I have to say—those tight skinny jeans? Probably not the best idea moving forward. Baby’s going to need some room to grow”.

You let out a small laugh despite yourself, grateful for the break in tension. “Noted. Guess it’s time to retire my denim collection for a while”.

Dr. Carter grinned as she adjusted the ultrasound machine. “I promise, stretchy pants are going to become your best friend. Maternity leggings, flowy dresses—they’re all lifesavers. You might even find yourself wondering why you didn’t switch to them sooner”.

Her easy humor helped relax you, and you managed a small smile as you adjusted the sheet over your lap. “I’ll keep that in mind”.

“Good”, she said warmly, positioning the probe and applying a generous amount of gel to it. “Now, you might feel a little pressure, but it shouldn’t hurt. Let me know if it does, okay?”.

You nodded, gripping the sides of the exam table as she began the procedure.

“Alright, let’s take a look. A little pressure again, but we’ll be done before you know it”.

Her calm, professional demeanor helped you relax again, and within moments, the discomfort faded as your attention turned to the screen. The tiny, flickering shape appeared once more, and all your nervousness melted away, replaced by awe.

"There it is”, Dr. Carter said softly, her voice steady and warm as she adjusted the angle on the screen. “That’s your baby. Strong heartbeat, measuring right on track”.

You stared at the screen, your breath catching in your throat. There it was—a tiny flickering heartbeat, impossibly small yet so powerful. You were really pregnant. Even though you’d known it logically, seeing it on the screen made it real in a way that took your breath away. And yet, part of you still couldn’t quite believe it.

Dr. Carter continued to move the probe gently, taking measurements and pointing out details. “Everything’s looking good so far. Your little one is tucked in right where it should be. No signs of any complications at this point, which is exactly what we want to see”.

You nodded numbly, your eyes glued to the screen. “It’s so… small”, you murmured, your voice filled with a mix of wonder and disbelief.

She smiled, her gaze flicking to you. “They won’t stay small for long, trust me. You’ll blink, and suddenly you’ll wonder how on earth they managed to grow so fast”.

Dr. Carter chuckled softly, her tone filled with the wisdom of someone who had witnessed this moment countless times but still found joy in it. "It’s amazing, isn’t it? That tiny heartbeat, that little flicker—it’s a whole new life just starting out”.

You nodded again, unable to tear your eyes away from the screen. “It’s… overwhelming”, you admitted, your voice thick with emotion. “I mean, I knew, but this makes it… real”.

“And it’s okay to feel that way”, Dr. Carter said gently. “First pregnancies tend to bring out all the feelings—the excitement, the fear, the disbelief. It’s all normal. You’re allowed to feel every bit of it”.

She adjusted the probe slightly, her voice turning a bit more clinical as she continued. “So far, everything looks perfect. You’re about eight weeks along, right on track. The baby’s growth is exactly where we want it to be. Heart rate is strong—about 160 beats per minute, which is ideal at this stage”.

You nodded, though the details were a blur compared to the sight of the tiny life on the screen. “It’s so much to take in”, you whispered, your hand instinctively moving to rest on your stomach.

Dr. Carter smiled, finishing the measurements and setting the probe aside. “It is. But you’re doing great. This is just the beginning, and you’ve got a lot of exciting—and maybe overwhelming—milestones ahead”.

She handed you a towel to clean off the gel, giving you a moment to process everything. “You’ll get used to it. Well, mostly. There’s always something new to surprise you in pregnancy, and eventually parenthood”.

You managed a small laugh, wiping your stomach and pulling the thin sheet over your legs. “I don’t think I’ll ever be fully ready, but I guess no one really is, right?”.

“Exactly”, she said warmly. “No one’s ever fully ready. But you’re already doing the most important part—showing up, caring, and making sure your baby has everything they need”.

Her words were reassuring, a balm to the nervous energy that had been swirling in your chest since the appointment began. As you got dressed and prepared to leave, she added one more thing, her tone light and teasing.

“And remember—plenty of rest, eat well, and start embracing the stretchy pants. Trust me, they’re a lifesaver”.

You laughed softly, some of the tension melting away. “Got it. Stretchy pants, check”.

Dr. Carter smiled warmly, handing you a small envelope with printed images of the ultrasound. “Take these with you. It’s a big moment—share it with the people you care about, and let yourself enjoy it. You’re doing just fine”.

You looked down at the black-and-white images in your hands, your heart swelling at the sight of the tiny form captured there. “Thank you”, you said, your voice filled with gratitude.

She gave you a final nod, her voice kind. “You’re welcome. And remember, I’m here if you have questions or concerns. We’ll take it one step at a time”.

As you walked out of the office and into the fresh air, you felt a mix of emotions—hope, fear, awe. Clutching the ultrasound photos tightly, you hesitated, staring down at your phone for a long moment before finally pressing on Jensen’s name. Your heart thudded in your chest as the line rang, the tiny ultrasound photos still clutched in your other hand. You didn’t even know what you were planning to say—just that you needed him to hear this, to be part of this moment, even from a distance.

The line rang and rang, and then his voicemail clicked on. You sighed, trying not to feel disappointed. Of course he didn’t answer. He was probably in the middle of filming, lost in the demanding schedule that kept him so far away from you. You knew it wasn’t intentional, but in this moment, the distance felt impossibly large. Again.

The evening had slipped into night, the house dim and quiet except for the soft hum of the television in the background. You lay stretched out on the couch, one hand resting on your bare stomach while your other hand clutched the ultrasound photos. Your shirt was pulled up just slightly, and you found yourself absentmindedly tracing circles over the small, still-flat curve of your belly.

You stared at the black-and-white images, your mind swirling with emotions. Excitement, fear, hope—it was all tangled up in your chest, making it hard to focus on anything else. The faint vibration of your phone on the coffee table startled you, and you quickly reached for it.

Jensen’s name flashed on the screen, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was a FaceTime call. You hesitated for only a moment before accepting, the screen filling with his familiar face. He was in his trailer, the lighting dim and shadows playing across his features. His hair was slightly tousled, and he looked tired—but the moment his green eyes locked on yours, they softened.

“Hey”, he said, his voice quiet but warm. “Sorry I missed your call earlier. It’s been crazy today”.

“It’s okay”, you murmured, shifting slightly to sit up. “I’m glad you called back”.

Jensen hesitated, his green eyes searching your face through the screen. “How did… the appointment go?”, he asked, his voice careful, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid to step into a conversation he wasn’t ready for.

You shifted slightly, your gaze dropping to the ultrasound photos in your lap. “It was fine”, you said curtly, your tone clipped. “Everything’s good. Healthy baby, strong heartbeat”.

There was a beat of silence between you, the weight of your words hanging in the air. You knew he could tell you weren’t giving him the whole story, but you didn’t know how to explain what you were feeling—the mix of emotions, the desire to share every little detail, and the fear of overwhelming him when he already seemed stretched so thin.

Jensen’s brow furrowed slightly, his lips pressing together as he studied you. He knew you too well to let it slide, but he also knew better than to push right away. “That’s good”, he said softly, his voice measured. “I’m glad everything’s okay”.

You nodded, your fingers absentmindedly brushing over the photos. “Yeah”.

He stayed quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful, as though he was trying to decide how to approach this. Finally, he tilted his head slightly, his tone gentler this time. “You don’t have to hold back with me, you know”.

You glanced up at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”.

He knew you well enough to see right through your clipped responses, to know that you were holding back. But what if he didn’t want to hear it? What if hearing every little detail only made this harder for him? What if he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the ultrasound pictures because, deep down, he still didn’t want this baby?

The thought sat heavy in your chest, threatening to choke you, but Jensen spoke before you could spiral any further.

“(Y/N)”, he said softly, his voice steady but warm. “Talk to me. I can see it—you’ve got so much to say, and I want to hear it. I know I haven’t been… the best at showing it, but I’m here. I’m trying to be here for you”.

Your throat tightened, and you stared at the photos in your lap, your fingers trembling slightly as you traced the outline of the tiny shape on the glossy paper. “I don’t know if you want to hear it”, you admitted quietly, barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know if you want to look at these”.

His face softened, guilt flickering in his eyes as he leaned closer to the screen. “Hey”, he said gently, his tone filled with sincerity. “That’s not true. I do want to hear it. And I do want to see the pictures. I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like I don’t. I just… I’ve been struggling, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care“.

Jensen’s voice softened further, the corners of his mouth twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “C’mon”, he said gently, his green eyes warm despite the exhaustion etched into his features. “Show me the little pudding swirl. I probably won’t recognize anything anyway—a damn foot would look like a nose to me”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a soft, unexpected sound that bubbled out of your chest and eased some of the tension in the room. “Pudding swirl?”, you repeated, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged, his smile growing just a little. “Well, yeah. Isn’t that what ultrasounds always look like? Just a bunch of swirls and blobs that doctors magically translate into arms and legs”.

You shook your head, your lips quirking into a real smile now as you held up the ultrasound photos to the camera. “Okay, well, this blob has a heartbeat”, you said, your voice lighter than before. “And right here”—you pointed at the faint outline on the screen—“this is the head. Not a foot or a nose, for the record”.

Jensen leaned closer to the screen, squinting as if to make out the details. “Ah, okay. Head. Got it”, He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Wait, are you sure? That could totally be a nose. Or, like, an elbow”.

“Jensen”, you said, your voice catching between amusement and exasperation.

“What? I’m just saying!”, he defended, though the teasing glint in his eye betrayed him. “I need a guide for these things, alright? Don’t expect me to be an ultrasound expert overnight”.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you, shaking your head as you set the photos back in your lap. “You’re impossible”, you muttered, though the warmth in your tone took away any sting.

“But I’m your impossible”, he said softly, his teasing smile fading into something gentler as he looked at you. “And I’m trying, (Y/N). I really am”.

Your chest tightened at his words, but it wasn’t with sadness this time. It was with a cautious kind of hope, the kind that told you maybe, just maybe, things could get better. “I know you are”, you said quietly. “And it means a lot”.

Jensen nodded, his gaze dropping back to the screen for a moment before he met your eyes again. “So, uh… pudding swirl, huh?”, he said, his tone lighter again. “Is that what we’re calling it until we figure out an actual name?”.

You rolled your eyes, though your smile stayed in place. “We’re not calling the baby ‘pudding swirl’, Jensen”.

He grinned, the tension in his face easing just slightly. “Fine. But you gotta admit, it’s kinda catchy”.

You laughed again, shaking your head as you leaned back against the couch. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt lighter, the weight of your fears not entirely gone but easier to carry with him by your side—even if it was just through a screen.

Jensen shifted on his end of the call, pulling off his hoodie and tossing it out of view, leaving him in just his t-shirt. He settled back in his chair, running a hand through his tousled hair, his gaze never leaving you. “Alright”, he said, his voice soft but encouraging, “tell me everything. How’d it go with the doctor? No holding back, alright?”.

You hesitated for a moment, fiddling with the corner of the ultrasound photo. “You really want to hear it all?”, you asked, still unsure if he was just saying it to make you feel better.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning a little closer to the camera. “C’mon, Baby- I asked, didn’t I? Spill it. The whole deal—what did the doctor say?”.

You smiled faintly, his eagerness pulling you out of your own head a little. “Well”, you began, sitting up straighter on the couch, “Dr. Carter was great. She was super kind and made me feel a lot less nervous. She, uh, might have made a joke about how tight my jeans were and said stretchy pants are in my near future”.

Jensen snorted, shaking his head with a grin. “Stretchy pants, huh? Told you, those skinny jeans were never gonna last. Baby’s gotta have room to grow”.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, she did an internal ultrasound to get a clear look, and that’s when we saw this little one”, You held up the photos again, your smile softening. “She said everything looks perfect. The baby’s right where they should be, strong heartbeat, measuring exactly on track”.

“That’s awesome”, Jensen said, his voice sincere. His gaze lingered on the photos, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he added, “So, uh… anything else I should know? You know, like special baby dos and don’ts?”.

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. “You probably know most of it already”, you said, your tone light. “It’s not your first rodeo”.

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Sorta”, he admitted, his voice quieter. “But I wasn’t around much for… you know, most of it. Filming Supernatural kept me away during a lot of the pregnancies, so I only know the basics. The doctor appointments, ultrasounds… I wasn’t there for most of that”.

Your heart ached at the subtle regret in his tone, and you softened, leaning closer to the camera. “Well, if you stick around this time—even if it’s just like this—I’ll keep you in the loop for everything”, you said gently. “Every little detail”.

His lips quirked into a faint smile, and he nodded. “I want that”, he said, his voice steady. “I want to know it all. Even the stuff I missed before”.

You smiled, feeling the knot in your chest ease just a little. “Alright, then. You’re gonna get so much information, you’ll be an expert by the time this baby gets here”.

“Good”, he said, his grin widening slightly. “Bring it on. Even if it’s about stretchy pants and cravings”.

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t in this alone. Jensen might still be figuring things out, but he was trying. And right now, that was enough.

The conversation naturally slowed, a comfortable quiet settling between you both. Jensen leaned back in his chair, his eyes flickering to something off-screen before returning to you. His expression softened, more vulnerable now, and he hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Are you happy?”, he asked, his voice low but steady. The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He wasn’t just asking about the baby—he was asking about everything. About you. About the life you were building and how this unexpected turn had changed it.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. Your first instinct was to deflect, to brush it off with something light, but the sincerity in his eyes stopped you. He really wanted to know.

“I…”. You paused, your fingers brushing over the ultrasound photos in your lap. “I don’t know. I think I’m… getting there”. You looked down for a moment, trying to find the right words. “There are moments where I feel happy. Like when I saw the baby on the screen today, or when I think about what’s ahead. But it’s… complicated”.

Jensen nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Complicated how?”.

You sighed, leaning back into the couch. “I mean, everything’s different now. This wasn’t the plan, and I know it wasn’t what you wanted. So, sometimes, I feel guilty for being excited about it. Like… like I’m forcing this on you, even though it’s just as much your reality as it is mine”.

His jaw tightened slightly, and he let out a slow breath. “You’re not forcing anything on me, (Y/N)”, he said firmly. “Yeah, this wasn’t what I planned, and I’ve been… struggling with it. But that doesn’t mean you can’t feel happy about it. You don’t have to hold back for me”.

You studied him, the sincerity in his voice settling over you like a fragile warmth. “What about you?”, you asked, your voice softer now. “Are you happy?”.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. “I don’t know yet”, he admitted. “I’m still trying to figure out how to be okay with all of this. But I want to be happy. I want to get there”.

His honesty caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him through the screen. “That’s enough for me”, you said quietly. “That you want to try. That’s all I need”.

He nodded, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “I’ll get there”, he promised, his voice steady. “For you. And for.. the baby”.

The flight to LA had been uneventful, but your nerves had been in overdrive the entire time. You sat by the window, clutching your small bag tightly and watching the clouds roll by, your thoughts bouncing between excitement and anxiety. After five weeks of being alone, of feeling the silence in your house stretch endlessly, you couldn’t take it anymore. You missed Jensen—his presence, his voice, even the way he’d tease you just to make you smile.

But now, as you sat on the couch in his temporary apartment, waiting for him to come home, the doubts began to creep in. Would he be happy to see you? Or would he feel blindsided, caught off guard by your unannounced arrival? You glanced around the apartment—it was neat, but impersonal, lacking the warmth of home. It made you ache even more to feel closer to him again.

Your nausea wasn’t helping. The smell of whatever detergent he used on his couch cushions had been tickling your stomach since you sat down, and the bag of crackers you’d brought with you was already half-empty. You placed a hand on your still-flat stomach, murmuring under your breath, “You’re really not making this easy for me, you know that?”.

Your stomach growled as you stood, the nausea mingling with hunger in a way that made you feel lightheaded. Quietly, you wandered toward the small kitchen, opening the fridge in hopes of finding something—anything—that might settle your stomach.

But of course, Jensen being Jensen, the fridge was nearly empty. A single, lonely protein bar sat on the top shelf, alongside two bottles of water. You stared at the sparse contents for a moment, letting out a soft, exasperated sigh. “Seriously, Jensen?”, you muttered under your breath, shaking your head.

You grabbed one of the bottles of water and twisted the cap off, taking a slow sip to keep your nausea at bay. The protein bar stared back at you mockingly, and you reluctantly grabbed it as well, knowing it was better than nothing.

Leaning against the counter, you unwrapped the bar and took a small bite, immediately regretting it. It was dry, overly sweet, and tasted vaguely like cardboard. “How does he live like this?”, you mumbled, grimacing as you forced yourself to swallow.

You glanced around the kitchen, noting the lack of any real groceries or supplies. It wasn’t surprising—Jensen had always been the type to live off takeout and whatever was easiest when he was in work mode—but it made you miss the comfort of home even more. At least there, you could whip up something that didn’t make you question your life choices.

As you stood there nibbling reluctantly on the protein bar, the sound of keys jingling at the door caught your attention. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you quickly set the bar down on the counter, wiping your hands nervously on your jeans.

The door opened, and Jensen stepped inside, his hair slightly tousled from the wind. He froze when he saw you, his green eyes widening in surprise.

Jensen stood frozen in the doorway, his green eyes scanning you from head to toe. His expression quickly shifted from surprise to concern as he noticed how pale you looked, the exhaustion written all over your face. He closed the door slowly, without taking his eyes off you.

“(Y/N)”, he said, his voice low and cautious, as though he were bracing himself for bad news. “What’s going on? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”.

You blinked, startled by the intensity of his reaction, and quickly shook your head. “No—yes! I mean, we’re fine”, you stammered, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “I promise. I just… I couldn’t stay at home alone anymore. I missed you”.

He let out a sharp exhale, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he stepped further into the apartment.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, to reassure him further, but before you could get a single word out, Jensen moved. His hands grabbed your hips with a firm but gentle urgency, lifting you effortlessly onto the small countertop. You barely had time to process it before he stepped between your legs, closing the space between you.

“Jensen—”, you started, but his lips were on yours, cutting off your words with a kiss that was far too hard, far too hungry. It wasn’t gentle or measured—this was pure need, raw and desperate. His hands slid up to your waist, pulling you flush against him as though he couldn’t stand the thought of even a sliver of space between you.

You gasped against his lips, your hands instinctively finding their way to his shoulders, clutching at his shirt as you tried to ground yourself. The kiss was overwhelming, stealing your breath and silencing every doubt you’d carried with you all the way to LA. Jensen wasn’t just kissing you—he was telling you something without words, something you hadn’t been sure he could say.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard. His hands stayed on your hips, his grip firm, grounding you. “You scared the hell out of me”, he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “But I’m so damn glad you’re here”.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words never came. Jensen was already back, his lips crashing against yours with even more urgency than before. His hands moved with a desperate kind of impatience, one fumbling with the buckle of his belt while the other tugged at the button of your jeans, his touch igniting a heat that spread through you in seconds.

“Jensen”, you breathed against his lips, your voice shaky as your hands gripped his shoulders to steady yourself. But he didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. His breath was ragged, and the need in his movements matched the hunger in his kiss.

“Missed you”, he murmured against your mouth, his words muffled by the press of your lips. “Missed you so much”.

You barely had time to process his words before he tugged your jeans open, his fingers brushing against your bare skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Your hands slid up into his hair, pulling him closer as you kissed him back with just as much urgency, your own longing taking over.

Jensen’s lips trailed down your jawline, his hot breath against your skin making you shiver. One hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, his fingers finding you with an expertise that made your breath hitch. He groaned low in his throat, the sound sending a jolt of electricity through you as his movements became more deliberate, more focused.

“Fuck, I missed you”, he muttered, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. His other hand moved to free himself. With practiced ease, he unzipped his jeans, his hand wrapping around himself as he began to stroke, his breaths growing heavier with every movement.

The dual sensations of his hand on you and the sounds of his need—raw and unfiltered—sent your mind spinning. Your hands tightened in his hair, tugging slightly as your body arched against him, seeking more, needing more.

“Jensen”, you gasped. Your head tilted back, giving him better access to your neck as his lips found a spot just beneath your jaw, sucking gently while his fingers worked magic between your thighs.

His hips pressed forward instinctively, the heat of his body making you feel consumed, utterly surrounded by him. “You feel so good”, he rasped, his voice low and thick with desire. “I can’t—”. He cut himself off with a groan, his hand on himself quickening for a moment before he forced himself to slow down, clearly trying to hold back.

You could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his body trembled slightly as he tried to keep control. “Jensen”, you whispered, your voice shaky but certain, “I need you”.

This was all it took. Jensen didn’t hesitate for a second. In one swift motion, he gripped the waistband of your jeans and panties, tugging them down just enough, the urgency in his movements making your breath catch. He didn’t waste another second—his hands settled firmly on your hips as he positioned himself, his body pressing closer to yours.

When he pushed inside, the sensation was overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and intensity that made your head fall back with a soft gasp. Jensen groaned, low and guttural, his hands gripping you tighter as he stilled for a moment, clearly savoring the connection. “Fuck”, he rasped, his forehead pressing against yours, his voice heavy with emotion and need. “You feel… incredible”.

Your hands slid down his back, clutching at his shirt as you tried to steady yourself. The intimacy of the moment, the rawness of his touch—it was more than just physical. It was everything you’d been longing for, everything you’d missed.

“Jensen”, you breathed, your voice trembling as you moved your hips slightly, urging him on.

Jensen didn’t hold back this time. He began to move, his thrusts fast and hard, filled with a raw intensity that left you breathless. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you closer with every movement, as if he couldn’t bear to be even the slightest bit apart. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure crashing through you, and you clung to him, your nails digging into his back through his shirt.

“Shit, (Y/N)”, he groaned, his voice rough and low, filled with desperation and something deeper—something unspoken but unmistakable. His forehead stayed pressed against yours, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. The intimacy of the moment, the sheer closeness, made everything feel even more intense.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way he poured everything into every movement—his frustration, his longing, his love. It was all there, tangible in the way his body moved against yours, in the guttural sounds that escaped his lips.

His lips brushed against yours, not quite kissing but staying close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. “Needed this. Needed you”.

You couldn’t speak, the intensity of his movements stealing your breath and leaving you trembling. Your fingers dug into his back, clutching his shirt desperately to keep yourself steady, to stop yourself from slipping down the countertop. Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, but it wasn’t just the physical sensation—it was the way Jensen clung to you, the way his body pressed against yours as if he couldn’t bear even a moment of separation.

You could sense it in him, the desperation, the need that went far beyond the physical. Jensen needed this—needed you—in a way that was raw and unfiltered. It wasn’t just about passion; it was about grounding himself, finding something steady and real in the chaos of everything you’d both been facing.

Your hands slid up to his shoulders, your nails grazing the back of his neck as you held onto him, your body trembling under the sheer force of his need. You couldn’t form words, couldn’t do anything but meet his movements, your body responding to him instinctively, your breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

Jensen’s movements became even more desperate, his hands gripping your hips like they were the only thing anchoring him to the moment. His teeth grazed over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shock of pleasure through your body that made you cry out, your head falling back as you clung to him even tighter. The sensation pushed you over the edge, and you came with a force that left you trembling, your body tightening around him so intensely that it drew a low, guttural groan from his throat.

“(Y/N)”, he rasped, his voice rough and unsteady as his rhythm faltered, his body reacting to the way you clenched around him. He pressed closer, burying his face in your neck as he thrust into you one last time, hard and deep, before he followed you over the edge, his body shuddering as he spilled into you.

For a moment, the world was nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, heavy and ragged in the quiet kitchen. Jensen stayed pressed against you, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he tried to steady himself, his hands sliding up to cradle your waist gently now, his grip no longer desperate but grounding.

You ran your fingers gently through Jensen’s hair, your body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks. His face remained buried in your neck, his breaths warm against your skin, his body still pressed close. His grip on your waist softened, but he didn’t move away, as though the connection was something he wasn’t ready to let go of yet.

“What was that for?”, you asked teasingly, your voice breathless and light as you let your fingers trail down to his neck. “Not that I’m complaining or anything”.

He let out a low, almost embarrassed chuckle, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “Shit, I don’t even know”, he muttered, his voice muffled and still a little hoarse. “I had such a shitty day. Everything went wrong on set, I was exhausted, pissed off, and just wanted to shower and crash”. He finally pulled back just enough to look at you, his green eyes soft but still heavy with emotion. “Then I walked in and saw you standing there, looking all beautiful and… like you belonged here. And everything else just disappeared”.

You smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “So, I have good timing?”, you teased, your voice warm.

“The best timing”, he said, his lips quirking into a faint smile as he leaned his forehead against yours. “You were exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it”.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you let your hands slide down to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms. “Well”, you said softly, “I’m glad I could help. You seem pretty relaxed now”.

He chuckled again, the sound deeper this time as he shifted his hands to your waist, holding you gently. “That’s an understatement”, he admitted, his smile growing.

Jensen let out a small grunt as he reached for a nearby tissue, still holding you steady with one hand as he carefully pulled out of you. His movements were gentle, but the slight grumpiness in his expression was impossible to miss as he glanced down. “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about that anymore, huh?”, he muttered, his tone laced with dry humor as he pressed the tissue against your sensitive skin, his touch still surprisingly tender despite his teasing words.

You let out a soft laugh, brushing your fingers against his jawline. “Guess not”, you replied, your voice warm but a little shaky from the lingering aftershocks. “Perks of being pregnant, right?”.

He rolled his eyes, though there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he cleaned you up, taking his time to be as gentle as possible. “Yeah, real perk”, he muttered, his tone teasing but affectionate. Once he was satisfied, he discarded the tissue and began adjusting his own jeans, fastening his belt with a practiced ease.

You watched him, your heart swelling at the way he moved—still a little flustered but trying to keep his usual calm. “You okay there, Jensen?”, you teased lightly, raising an eyebrow as he ran a hand through his slightly messy hair.

He glanced up at you, his green eyes sparkling with warmth despite the grumpy facade. “I’m fine”, he said, his voice softening as he stepped closer to you again, his hands resting on your thighs. “But are you okay? I didn’t… I wasn’t too.. much, was I?”.

You smiled, reaching up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “I’m fine”, you reassured him, your voice tender. “Better than fine, actually”.

He relaxed at your words, his shoulders loosening as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good”, he murmured. “Because the last thing I want is to hurt you—or, you know… the little invader inside you”.

You laughed softly at Jensen’s words, though the underlying meaning wasn’t lost on you. “The little invader, huh?”, you teased gently, resting your hands on his forearms. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”.

Jensen let out a breath, his lips quirking into a faint, almost sheepish smile. “I mean, it feels accurate”, he muttered. His hands sliding down to your hips as he gently helped you back into your jeans, carefully tugging them up and fastening them. His touch was gentle, almost absentminded, but his expression carried a hint of grumpiness. As he worked, he mumbled under his breath, half to himself, half to you.

“Soon enough, no more sex for me”, he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “Just bottles and diapers, and you exhausted as fuck, with sensitive nipples and all that shit”.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his grumbling, your hands moving to rest lightly on his shoulders. “Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine”, you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Feeling sorry for yourself already?”.

He straightened, giving you a look that was equal parts exasperated and amused. “I’m just saying”, he grumbled, his hands resting on your hips now, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of your jeans. “Everything’s going to change. No more lazy mornings, no more spontaneous countertop moments. Just us covered in spit-up, and you ready to kill me for not doing enough”.

You chuckled, leaning in a little closer with a mischievous glint in your eye. “Well”, you teased, your voice low and sultry, “we’d better make the most of the time we do have, then. I mean, who knows when you’ll get another chance to pin me against a countertop and have your way with me?”.

Jensen’s eyebrows shot up, and for a moment, he just stared at you, clearly caught off guard by your boldness. Then, a slow, wicked grin spread across his face, his hands tightening on your hips. “You’re really going to say something like that when I’m already thinking about round two?”, he muttered, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped closer.

You laughed, playfully swatting at his chest. “Relax, cowboy. You just got done complaining about how little sex you’re going to get. Can’t have you wearing yourself out too early”.

He rolled his eyes, but the amused spark in his gaze told you he was enjoying this just as much as you were. “Wearing myself out? Sweetheart, I could go all night if I wanted to”, he shot back, his tone dripping with confidence.

You raised an eyebrow, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest. “Oh, really?”, you challenged, your smile growing. “Careful, Jensen. That sounds like a promise”.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “It is”.

And it was.

Jensen had made good on his promise, proving with every touch, kiss, and whispered word that he wasn’t kidding about going all night. Two hours later, you found yourself sprawled on the bed, your body a delightful mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.

Jensen was currently between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs gently but firmly as his tongue worked its magic. His stubble tickled against your skin, but you barely registered it over the waves of pleasure that were building with every deliberate movement. His green eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly, and the intensity in them made your breath hitch.

You were just on the edge, your body trembling and your hands clutching the sheets, when it happened. Your stomach growled. Loudly. Loud enough to break through the haze of bliss Jensen had been so expertly creating.

He froze, his head lifting slightly as he looked up at you with wide, amused eyes. “Did your stomach just roar at me?”, he asked, his voice laced with disbelief and humor.

Your face flushed instantly, and you slapped a hand over your stomach, letting out a embarrassed laugh. “I—I guess it did”, you stammered, unable to stop laughing as the tension of the moment shattered completely. “I think it’s trying to tell you I need food before I pass out”.

Jensen pushed himself up onto his elbows, grinning wickedly as he crawled up your body. “Sweetheart”, he teased, his voice low and playful, “I thought I was keeping you satisfied. Guess I’ve still got some competition”.

You rolled your eyes, still laughing, as you smacked his chest lightly. “Don’t make me feel worse about it! It’s your fault for not feeding me properly when I got here”.

“My fault?”, he repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. “You’re the one who showed up unannounced and distracted me before I could even think about dinner”.

“Well, clearly, I wasn’t thinking about dinner either”, you shot back, grinning as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Jensen let out a deep laugh, his forehead pressing against yours as he smiled down at you. “Alright, truce. Let’s get you something to eat before your stomach declares war on me”.

You giggled, nodding as you nudged him. “Good idea. I don’t think either of us wants to see how hangry I can get”.

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before rolling off the bed and grabbing his sweats. “Stay here”, he said, pointing at you with a mock-serious expression.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78 @jamerlynn @whimsyfinny @libby99hb @deansimpalababy @deans-queen @kawaii-arfid-memes @faephoria @stoneyggirl2 @fitxgrld @luvr4miya @yikeschoices @lyssalvus @soab1967 @luvr4miya @didi0666 @impala67rollingthroughtown @cheekygirl2309 @kamisobsessed @deansimpalababy @magnificientgirl @ @dulcescorderitas @mandee7

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles the boys #jensen x y/n #jensen x you #his true fate #spn cast

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aroace-rizgukgak · 4 months ago

Text

*goes up to a group of four friends* okay but which of each of you is teamwork, network, community and belonging?

#misfits and magic #hello everyone I Am behind on mismag but I need to be clear i still LOVE LOVE LOVE it and am delighted to watch it and be in this fandom #just was Interested in something else that generally consumed me as interests do #STILL HERE THOUGH!!!! just letting you know I am not going anywhere!!!#dimension 20 #I am Very Excited to see what happens #no spoilers but I have heard theres been some Painful shit so I am delighted

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medicinemane · 4 months ago

Text

Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy

You have... very very very very very very very very smart people you know, and they're say something that not only isn't true, but literally is as opposite of the truth as it's possible to be... and you'll... gently inform them "hey, it's actually a bit more like this" and then they just kinda... go on saying literally the exact same thing

I'm not sure if it's just that... I often feel like I must be very bad at communicating, or people must just not notice/ignore a lot of what I say, but... I don't know

Like dearest friend, you've said something as absurd as... I don't know, it's hard to say without saying it, but honest to god about as absurd as saying the United States was a part of the USSR, that level of completely getting it backwards

...and it just doesn't seem to matter when I try to explain it... I legit don't even know if you read what I said

Really end up feeling like I'm going nuts sometimes

#to be clear; I don't mind people disagreeing with me (though that's not what's happened here... I don't think I came into it at all)#but all I need in order to be able to work with disagreement is just... knowing you at least heard and understood me #like if it's 'I get that you think that vanilla is a good flavor of icecream; but I really prefer chocolate'... ok; this works for me #it's that... a lot of the time it honest feels more like 'what are you talking about? vanilla isn't a flavor' where... huh?#let's take a real example; not everyone needs to agree with me on nuclear #but like... someone saying 'I get that it's way safer these days; but I still worry about waste storage'... well ok then #but if it's just like 'but it's dangerous and will explode' even after I've explained about the designs now #where there's a salt plug that with melt and drain before anything can happen; and these materials don't like to run away #...and it's not like they're asking me to back up the source; it's like I never said anything at all...#what am I supposed to do here? you feel me on that? do you start to get why I feel like I'm going crazy when that's how it often feels?#no one is obliged to agree with me but... literally just active listening would fix this... say you heard me and we're good #acknowledge that I voiced something and it's been noted #honestly... honestly my who life it's felt like I must somehow actually be invisible #...to an extent maybe I'm a figment of my own imagination; I might well be a ghost that's lonely and makes you all up #...for all the impact my actions have #or maybe literally everything I say just comes out garbled... is that it?#this post is about something very specific; but it's also about something that happens a lot with a lot of different people #on a broader scale; why is it no one else seems to be able to connect the dots #and these aren't like... conspiracy theory dots; these are like russia buys drones from Iran; therefore russia and Iran are partners #that's the kind of dots I'm talking about connecting; please tell me that's not a conspiracy theory to you... it seems plain to me #I don't know... I really don't... I don't think much I say will ever have any impact anywhere on anyone #...honestly a good 90% of the time people don't even respond to what I say #not like my posts here; I mean direct in dms or whatever; I'll say stuff and it's just silence or a new subject #again; across multiple people; it's common... it's... I think it happens more often than it doesn't #I can instantly name 4 conversations with 4 different people that's happened with lately #and that's not counting the 3 where I know the reason why it's happened #I really am something unfit to live; the evidence is endless #mm tag so i can find things later

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 19 days ago

Note

MORE MEAN!RAFE PLEASE!!! Maybe leading from the last ask and it’s him being the desperate one and she’s just scared of him now but she still loves him or smth idk lols

even when you pushed me away

mean!rafe cameron x desperate!fem!reader

cw — stalking

summary — rafe somehow finds you after you frantically ran away from home.

authors note — this is a continuation of my mean!rafe series. it is in my rafe cameron masterlist under “au’s” if you’d like it read it as a series instead of a standalone. thank you guys for all the love with this au, it means the world to me. please request more!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“why are you here, rafe?” you asked, your voice firm and unwavering even though you were slightly terrified and cowering behind your half-opened front door. “how did you even find me?”

he shook his head and brushed it off. “why am i here? because you just got up and left. no note? text? a call? nothing,” he explained calmly. “why? and where is all your stuff?” you bit your bottom lip nervously and stared at him. to your surprise, he looked genuinely confused. “did i do something?”

you almost laughed. did he do something? was he serious? “you should leave. i don’t want to talk to you,” you stated while beginning to close the door.

he lunged forward quickly and pushed back on it slightly, not enough for you to be scared that he was going to force his way in or anything like that, but just to keep you from shutting it in his face. “please, baby. i jus’ wanna talk to you. i want you to come home. i wanna know why you left in the first place.”

your resolve was beginning to slip. he was being so sweet and his eyes were all glassy like he was going to cry. “rafe, i don’t want to talk to you. i can’t,” you said a little more forcefully.

his bottom lip trembled slightly and he stared at you with wide eyes. “why not? what did i do wrong? if its about not spending enough time together, i promise i’ll change. i’ll clear my schedule for the rest of the week and we can spend every second of it together. jus’ please, come back home.”

“it’s not about that,” you replied. you wanted to leave with him so desperately. he sounded so torn and sad and it was beginning to make your heart break for him. “you’re not a good person. i can’t get mixed up with that.”

a tear slipped down his cheek as the realization set in. “baby, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered softly before talking a step closer to the door. you threatened to close it, narrowing the gap between you and him. that made him take a step back instantly. “please. jus’ come home and i’ll explain. i promise you. no lying, no bullshit. i’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

you felt your nose begin to sting and tears pool in your waterline. “i can’t, rafe.” you quickly shut the door and twisted the lock. a loud bang sounded on the door and you instinctively jumped back as you sobbed.

“open the fucking door!” he shouted angrily. you could hear his voice tremble before he began to repeatedly bang on the wood. “open the door!”

you slid down the wall and curled up into yourself, letting the tears call and the ugly cries escape your mouth. you’d never seen this side of him and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t terrify you to your core.

“baby, please! i’m begging you to open the door. i just want to talk to you,” he said, his voice slightly muffled through the barrier. “i need to talk to you. i need you to know that i’m not a bad person. please.”

you were pretty sure you were past that point now.

#gracies asks and requests 💌#gracie writes rafe cameron 🌺#obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #outer banks #outer banks imagine

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pomefioredove · 6 months ago

Note

may I request headcanons of the overblot boys + Adeuce reaction to a younger yuu that tells them that they’re like a big brother to them? Platonic obviously—

thank you!

awww ofc!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ brotherly (again!)

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, ace, deuce, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, short

Having been torn from your home, separated from your family and friends, and spit back out in a new place with new people, isn't really as fun as it sounds.

After months at NRC, though, you've managed to make yourself a life here. A new home, new friends, even new family.

Now, sitting close to the person you've become fondest of, you let slip that you seem him as a brother.

His reaction?

I am of the (kind of depressing) opinion that Riddle's life would be much better if he had a sibling. he hasn't really thought about it, per se, but he's always had this feeling...

so, when you tell him as much, he just... 🥺🥺 you know?

he's in protective brother mode from this moment on (for better or worse, lol)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the bond you have with Ace and Deuce has gone unspoken, but all of you know what it is. you saying it, though, makes it all the more real

as warm and tender of a moment as it is, Ace still feels the need to make a joke about how sappy you're being (affectionately, of course), and Deuce can only hum with excitement at the acceptance and warmth between the three of you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

admittedly, Leona is a little... put off. at least, he is at first. he doesn't exactly have a great relationship with his own brother, and with no other examples to go off of, it feels kind of like an insult

he... gets what you mean, though

and, reluctant as he is to be so vulnerable, he'll say you're just as much of an annoying little sibling to him

lovingly, of course

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul had friends before you... kind of... but none as near and dear to him. he could never quite explain what this feeling was until you said it

ah... that's it. family. he almost feels embarrassed, being so vulnerable all of a sudden, and he can barely get out that he feels the same way

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil has younger siblings already, and he could tell the two of you were forming a similar bond before you said as much. he'd caught himself treating you just how he treats his sister on multiple different occasions (for better or worse, lol), and...

he's glad that you're here with him. that's all he'll say... for now

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

many people would think you'd have to hit your head to say something like that to the Vil Schoenheit

he's untouchable! he's godlike! he's... lol. just kidding. he's quite fond of you, too, and hearing those words come from you is better than any amount of likes, any award or role. you're his favorite person, after all

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

dude, are you trying to make Idia cry??? because he will! and then he'll bubble-wrap you and Ortho so you can never go anywhere or get hurt ever

he... has some things to work through. obviously. but, really, he and Ortho have basically adopted you already, so hearing you say it... in a good way... call him cringe, but he could get a little emotional over that

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you think of Malleus as your brother? then you must also think of Silver the same way. and Sebek... would you be interested in adoption, because Lilia-

yeah. you get it. welcome to the family, lol. Malleus has already decided you're his best friend forever and ever, and hearing you call him family... hohhh that overblot is going to hit hard when you guys get there

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #riddle rosehearts x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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deadsetobsessions · 11 months ago

Text

Gotham rained a lot more than Amity ever did.

Danny could not help but appreciate the differences. From the way the city itself curled around her inhabitants to the weather, Gotham was far darker than Amity ever managed to be.

Still, there were similarities. The screams, for one. In Amity, it was ghosts, their victims, and whichever ghostbuster of the day rocking up to rock each other’s shit. Another similarity? Danny’s inability to not get himself into troublesome shit, because he could never ignore a cry for help.

That scream was a cry for help if he’s ever heard one.

Danny cursed himself as he slipped through the alleyways, strides becoming smoother and agile than he normally walked like. He stuck to the shadows, the prickling of ghostly senses and honed vigilante instincts guiding him towards the scream. It was a man, getting stabbed by a guy in a red helmet.

Danny maintained that he was new here.

Which is why his foot connected solidly with Red Helmet's... red helmet.

"Motherfuc-" Red Helmet shouted as he was punted several feet away.

"Holy shit dude, are you good?"

Danny helped the guy up.

"Thank fuck! Back up! What took you so long?! Boss is gunna be so pissed if we're late!"

Hold up. Boss?

"Boss?"

“Black Mask, asshole! We gotta go before he decides to cut off our limbs!”

Danny yanked the guy to the side just as a bullet ricocheted off the rusted fire escape.

“Ope!”

“You’re not going anywhere.” A mechanical voice growled behind them.

“Oh fuck, Red Helmet guy.” Danny muttered.

“Shit, ya gotta run, tell boss I got caught.” The injured goon- because it was now apparent to Danny that the guy was working for someone dangerous- said. Danny appreciated the thought, but he only intervened because the guy was getting stabbed.

“Uh,” Danny hesitated. Clearly the guy had the wrong idea.

“Don’t make a move, unless you want your fucking heads blown off,” Red Helmet guy- wait, why does he feel liminal?- raised his guns. “Why don-”

Red Helmet guy was cut off by the thud of the now unconscious goon.

His helmet tilted down and then back up at Danny.

“Guess it’s just you and me,” Helmet guy sneered out. “Better tell me everything you know about Black Mask, or else you’ll get a taste of what he had.”

Danny held up his hands even though he knew he could just let the bullets phase through him. The smart thing would be to absolve himself and not get in the middle of two criminal’s beef as a civilian.

Danny’s full name, however, could have been Danny ‘Dumb Decisions’ Fenton. So, Danny practically interjected himself like an overexcited puppy at a doggy daycare.

“Okay, no need to get bloody. But uh, I have a question.”

Red Helmet cocked his head and mockingly gestured with his gun. “Sure, why not.”

Danny let as much of his midwestern accent into his voice as possible. “Who’s, uh, Black Mask?”

Red Helmet paused. Then he sighed. “You’re not from here, are you?”

“No…? I’m, uh, new in town.”

Red Helmet lowered his guns, and for some reason, Danny could tell that he was exasperated.

“Why would you even get in between a fight, dumbass? I have a gun! I coulda killed ya! He’s a criminal’”

Danny protested. Rude! “In my defense, you were stabbing him! You’re a criminal too, you know!”

“That makes it worse! You-!” Red Helmet paused. “Wait, do you even know who I am?”

Danny let his gaze wander down to the red bat-shaped logo on the guy’s chest. “Uh… Red Helmet… bat-guy?” He hazarded a guess.

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot.”

Danny gaped. “Excuse me?!”

“You heard me,” Red Helmet put his gun back and planted his fists on his hips. “You’re an idiot. Who gets in between a vigilante and the goon of a crime lord.”

Danny crossed his arms, leveling an unimpressed look at Red Helmet. “I’ve never heard of a vigilante killing someone, Red Helmet Bat-Guy.”

“It’s Red Hood.” Red Helmet sighed, walking closer. “And I wasn’t going to kill him.” Danny scoffed.

Danny relaxed, sensing the truth coming from Red Helmet guy’s liminal aspects.

“He’ll die looking at your ugly mug,” Danny sassed. “You’re gonna get him to a hospital, right? I’ll go with you.”

“Are you midwesterners all this trusting? What if I was the goon and this guy was the vigilante?”

Red Hood hiked the goon over his shoulder in a fireman carry. Danny followed after him.

“He’s the one that told me to go running back to his boss, Red Helmet.”

“It’s Red Hood.”

“That doesn’t look like a hood.”

Danny grinned as Red Helmet grumbled. How interesting! Maybe he won’t miss Amity as much as he thought he would!

“Ugh, fine, I guess someone’s gotta watch your dumb ass so you don’t get mugged.”

“I can take care of myself!”

Hood grunted. “I guess that kick wasn’t half bad.”

Danny beamed at him. “Thanks!”

——

Danny chucked a chimichanga at Red Hood.

“Wait a minute, you’re a crime lord! Being a goon was way less illegal than being a vigilante crime lord!”

Red Hood cackled at him.

#danny phantom #red hood #batman #jason todd #dc x dp #dpxdc #bamf danny phantom #Danny the extrovert who adopted Jason the introvert

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goldfades · 3 months ago

Text

ROOKIE ─── PAIGE BUECKERS

request: "paige's gf and she insists on teaching her basketball—even though she's terrible at it. paige spends half the time “coaching” her (aka being flirty) and the other half laughing when she completely miss the basket"

You’re not entirely sure how you ended up here—standing under the hoop on a Saturday afternoon, gripping a basketball like it’s some foreign object you’ve never encountered before.

In your defense, sports have never been your thing. You’re more of a cheer-from-the-bleachers, snack-at-halftime, maybe-ask-what-a-three-pointer-is-later kind of person. And yet, here you are, because your girlfriend, Paige—decided today was the day you’d “learn the fundamentals.”

“Okay, baby, it’s easy,” she says, her voice brimming with the sort of confidence only someone who’s mastered the art of the crossover can pull off. She spins a ball on her finger effortlessly, her grin teasing but somehow still the softest thing you’ve ever seen. “All you gotta do is aim and shoot. No pressure.”

You squint up at the basket. It feels like it’s a mile away. “No pressure?” you deadpan, bouncing the ball once and grimacing when it doesn’t exactly obey. “Do you even know me?”

Paige snickers, sidling closer until she’s standing next to you, her hand on your hip. She’s wearing her usual practice gear: baggy shorts, sneakers laced tight, and a loose shirt that somehow still manages to hint at the muscle underneath. It’s honestly unfair how good she looks while being this annoying.

“Listen,” she says, her tone shifting into something that almost passes for serious. Almost. “I know you. I also know you’re fully capable of putting this ball in that hoop if you just focus and stop looking at me like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

You glance at her, and she’s smirking now, like she knows she’s caught you. Which, to be fair, she has. “First of all,” you mutter, turning back to the basket, “I do want to be here. Second, you’re distracting.”

“Am I?” Her voice is teasing, but you don’t dare look again. You already know she’s doing that thing where she cocks her head just a little and raises her eyebrows like she’s so impressed with herself. “Want me to step back so you can concentrate, rookie?”

“No,” you reply, huffing. “But if you call me rookie one more time, I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna what?” Paige interrupts, leaning down just enough so her lips are by your ear. Her voice drops an octave, and you swear you can feel her grin against your skin. “Miss the basket again?”

You groan, shoving her lightly with your elbow, but the weight of her hand on your hip doesn’t budge. She’s laughing now, full and bright and utterly unapologetic, and despite your best efforts to stay annoyed, you can’t help but crack a smile.

This is going to be a disaster. You can feel it.

You take a step back, spinning the ball once between your hands, trying to look like you’ve got some semblance of control. You absolutely do not. It’s slippery and awkward, and you’re already regretting agreeing to this. Paige watches you with the intensity of a coach but the playfulness of a girlfriend who knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Alright, babe, let’s see what you’ve got,” she says, crossing her arms and leaning back on her heels, all casual and amused. She looks entirely too comfortable with the idea of watching you embarrass yourself.

You square your shoulders and look up at the hoop again, trying to remember the quick, nonsensical explanation Paige gave you about form and aim. Something about “elbows in,” “flicking your wrist,” and “imagining you’re putting cookies in the oven.” Honestly, she lost you after “elbows.”

Paige steps closer, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the court. “Okay, pause,” she says, gently placing her hands on your shoulders to adjust your stance. Her touch lingers a little too long to be entirely innocent, and you glance at her, catching the faintest flicker of her teasing grin. “You’re holding the ball like it’s gonna explode. Relax.”

You loosen your grip, if only slightly, and she takes a step back, nodding approvingly. “Much better. Now, bend your knees. Remember, this isn’t a free throw contest, it’s a rhythm thing. Like dancing.”

“Dancing?” You give her a skeptical look. “You’ve seen me dance. That’s not helping your case.”

“True,” she says, laughing. “But at least you don’t step on anyone’s toes here.” Her hand brushes your lower back, the contact brief but enough to send a little jolt through you. She always does this—throws you off-kilter just enough to make you forget what you were supposed to be doing.

You shake your head, focusing on the hoop again. “Alright, alright. I’m doing it.”

“You’re doing it,” Paige echoes, stepping back into your peripheral vision, her hands on her hips like she’s supervising. “Visualize it going in. Manifest it.”

“Manifest it?” you deadpan. “Are you a basketball player or a yoga instructor?”

“Both, apparently,” she shoots back, laughing again. “Come on, just throw it already.”

You take a deep breath, bend your knees, and, in one fluid (well, semi-fluid) motion, you shoot. The ball arcs through the air in what you think is a promising trajectory… only to miss the basket entirely and bounce harmlessly off the backboard. It rolls lazily away, as if to add insult to injury.

Paige absolutely loses it. She doubles over, clutching her stomach as laughter spills out of her. It’s loud and unrestrained, the kind of laugh that’s so contagious you almost forget why she’s laughing in the first place. Almost.

“Don’t laugh,” you say, but your own voice wobbles with the threat of a giggle. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Paige straightens up, wiping at the corner of her eye dramatically. “Babe, you hit the backboard so hard I think it just filed for workers’ comp.”

“Wow, okay,” you say, rolling your eyes but failing to hide your grin. “This is why I don’t play sports.”

“Oh, come on.” Paige retrieves the ball with a few quick strides, tossing it effortlessly between her hands as she makes her way back to you. She stops just in front of you, holding the ball out. “You’re doing fine. You just need more practice.”

“And by practice, you mean you laughing at me until I cry?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” she says with a grin that’s entirely too charming to argue with. “Now, let’s try again. But this time…” She steps behind you, wrapping her arms around you and placing her hands over yours on the ball. “I’m gonna guide you.”

Your breath catches slightly as she leans in, her voice soft and close to your ear. “Okay, elbows in. Knees bent. Don’t think too hard about it. Just feel it.”

It’s a miracle you’re even upright at this point, let alone holding the ball. Her voice is low and encouraging, her arms warm and steady around you, and suddenly, basketball doesn’t seem so terrible.

“Now,” she murmurs, her hands shifting just enough to nudge yours into position. “Shoot.”

You do, and this time, the ball actually arcs in a somewhat respectable manner. It hits the rim and bounces off, but it’s a lot closer than before.

“Progress!” Paige announces, stepping back with a proud smile. “You’re getting there, rookie.”

You groan. “Stop calling me rookie!”

“Never.” She’s already picking up the ball again, twirling it on her finger like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “One more time. Let’s see if we can actually make one.”

“Fine,” you say, holding out your hands. “But if I make this shot, you owe me something.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows raise, her smile turning playful. “Like what?”

“I don’t know yet,” you say, taking the ball and narrowing your eyes at the hoop. “But I’m thinking something big.”

Paige laughs, leaning against the pole of the hoop, her gaze fixed on you. “Deal. But if you miss… I get to call you rookie forever.”

You shake your head, fighting back a smile. “No pressure, right?”

“Exactly,” she says, her grin widening. “No pressure at all.”

You focus on the hoop again, blocking out everything except the promise of finally making this shot—and maybe wiping that smug grin off Paige’s face. With newfound determination, you bend your knees, grip the ball like you actually know what you’re doing, and take the shot.

Time slows down for a second. The ball soars in a near-perfect arc, hits the rim… and bounces around it once, twice, before dropping cleanly through the net with a satisfying swish.

For a moment, you just stand there, stunned. Then it clicks: you made it. You actually made it.

“Oh my god!” you squeal, throwing your hands up in triumph. “Did you see that? I made it! I actually made it!”

Before Paige can even respond, you’re hopping around the court like you just won a championship game. Your excitement is entirely disproportionate to what just happened, but you don’t care. You’re too busy celebrating your hard-won victory, flailing your arms and spinning in a little circle.

Paige leans against the hoop, watching you with a mixture of amusement and adoration. “You’d think you just scored the game-winner at Madison Square Garden,” she teases, but the softness in her voice gives her away.

“This is my moment, Paige!” you shoot back, still grinning like a fool. You stop hopping just long enough to grab her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. “I made it! I’m a basketball prodigy now. Bow down!”

She laughs, her hands coming up to rest on your waist. “Alright, Michael Jordan, calm down.”

You narrow your eyes at her, playful and determined. “No, you don’t get to laugh. I deserve a reward for this. A big reward.”

Paige arches a brow, her lips curving into a smirk. “Oh, do you now? What kind of reward are we talking about?” Her voice dips into that suggestive tone that always makes your heart skip a beat.

You tap your chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… how about… lunch? I’m starving. And since I’m the champion now, you get to go buy it for me.”

Paige blinks, her smirk faltering. “Lunch?”

“Yup,” you say cheerfully, stepping back and crossing your arms. “From that cute little sandwich place I like. You can’t say no. I earned this.”

Paige stares at you, her expression torn between disbelief and fake betrayal. “You just made the shot of your life, and this is what you ask for? A sandwich?”

“What did you think I was going to ask for?” you counter, cocking your head.

She shrugs, her tone casual but her grin anything but. “I don’t know. Maybe a kiss. Or maybe some leg-shaking, world shattering head.”

“Paige!” You shout at her language, rolling your eyes, though your cheeks heat up at the suggestion. “I just exerted all my physical and emotional energy making that shot. I need food first. Priorities.”

She groans, dragging a hand down her face in mock despair. “You’re killing me here. Fine. But only because I’m impressed you actually made it.”

“Damn right you’re impressed,” you say, puffing out your chest dramatically. “Now go. And don’t forget the extra pickles!”

Paige shakes her head, laughing as she jogs off toward the parking lot. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. You owe me, rookie!”

“Never!” you call after her, grinning as you watch her go.

You sink onto the court, still buzzing with excitement. Sure, basketball might not be your thing, but moments like this? With her? You could get used to them.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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navyiera · 20 days ago

Text

Baby Came Home;

pairing: modern!au!ellie x fem!reader

a/n: nothing to say other than keeping the memory of fluffy farm ellie.

The first thing you notice is the warmth. Her warmth.

Ellie is practically glued to you, her arm slung over your waist, face buried in the crook of your neck. She sleeps like someone who never really learned how to—light and restless, always shifting, always searching for something just outside her reach. But now, in the quiet morning glow, she’s still. Peaceful.

You don’t move at first, just take her in. The freckles scattered across her skin, the way her hair sticks up in wild angles, the steady rise and fall of her breath against your collarbone. She smells like old leather and cedar, something unmistakably Ellie.

Then, with a soft grumble, she stirs.

“Mmhh… what time is it?” Her voice is hoarse with sleep, words slurred together as she nuzzles closer, like the morning itself is offensive.

You glance at your phone. “Too early.”

She huffs, tightening her arm around you. “Then go back to sleep.”

You smile, fingers absentmindedly tracing the ridges of her knuckles. “You go back to sleep.”

“I am,” she mumbles, though she’s definitely more awake now. One green eye cracks open, half-lidded and lazy as she peers up at you. “You staring at me or something?”

“Maybe.”

She smirks, but it’s soft, sleep-dazed. “Creep.”

You roll your eyes but don’t pull away when she shifts, pressing a slow, barely-there kiss against your shoulder. It lingers, lazy and warm, before she flops back down against the pillow with a sigh. “Five more minutes.”

You brush a few strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear. “Take your time.”

Ellie takes full advantage of those five minutes. Maybe more.

She melts into you, face pressed against your shoulder, one leg thrown over yours like she’s trying to keep you there. Not that you’re going anywhere.

The world outside is creeping awake—cars passing, birds chattering, the distant hum of life carrying on—but here, in this small, warm space, time doesn’t feel real.

You run your fingers through Ellie’s hair, letting them tangle and smooth through the strands. She hums, barely awake, and shifts slightly, her hand sliding over your ribs, tracing slow, absentminded patterns on your skin.

"You’re doing that thing again," she mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

"What thing?"

"Being all soft and… touchy." She peeks up at you with a lazy smirk. "Didn’t know you were such a sap."

You scoff. "Says the one who literally won’t let go of me right now."

Ellie tightens her grip around your waist in response. "Shut up."

You laugh, quiet and warm, tilting your head to press a kiss to her forehead. She sighs, almost content, before shifting onto her back, one arm draped behind her head as she stares up at the ceiling.

The morning light catches on the faint scars on her arms, on the curve of her jaw, on the sleep-soft edges of her expression.

After a moment, she glances at you. "You hungry?"

You grin. "You offering to cook?"

She snorts. "Fuck no. But I do have a very advanced skill of dialing a number and saying ‘hello, yes, I’d like a large stack of pancakes, please.’"

You shake your head, laughing. "Fine. But I’m picking the place."

Ellie grins, kissing your shoulder again. "Mkay."

Before you can get up, she hooks a finger under your chin and tilts your face toward hers. The kiss is slow and unhurried, still warm with sleep, still drowsy with morning. She lingers, her lips brushing against yours like she’s memorizing the feel of it, like she’s trying to trap this moment between you.

When she finally pulls back, her thumb grazes your cheek. "Morning kisses are a thing now, by the way."

You hum, pressing another quick kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Not complaining."

She huffs, eyes soft, before finally stretching with a groan. "Alright, pancakes."

You laugh, threading your fingers through hers as you sit up. "Yeah, yeah. Let’s go."

#ellie williams x reader #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff #tlou x reader #tlou fluff #ellie williams fic #ellie willams tlou #tlou ellie #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you

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appocalipse · 1 year ago

Note

heyy if ur taking requests could u maybe do like bestfriends steve + reader where steve, eddie, nancy and robin have to pick up reader from a party and she’s like REAL drunk and just idk super clingy w steve and doesn’t wanna not be touching him. maybe eddie, nancy and robin all make fun of him for it but they acc find it rly cute.

thank you for your request! ♥♥♥ | 2.2k words

"Stevie!"

You collide into him suddenly, nearly knocking him back a step or two with the force of your momentum; there's a smile on Steve's face when you look up at him through eyes that are more than a little hazy with inebriation. You're drunk. Probably way past drunk, if the way the world won't seem to hold still is anything to go by, but you don't care. There are other things vying for your attention—like how warm he feels against you, how safe he makes you feel, how pretty he looks from up close...

"Whoa," Steve says as you lean even further into him and loop your arms around his waist in a tight hug. "How much did you have to drink, exactly?"

He doesn't mean it in a mean way, which is why you grin up at him from where you've got your cheek pressed firmly to his chest. You can feel his heart beating under the palm of your hand now, a steady and calming rhythm that soothes something inside of you.

"Dunno," you reply, grinning stupidly when you catch sight of maybe three copies of Eddie Munson standing off to Steve's left; all of them have identical amused looks on their faces. "Might've had, like, a couple..."

Steve sighs deeply, though there's no exasperation or disappointment to be found in his expression when he tilts your face upwards to look you over properly. You just beam dopily at him, because he's so pretty right now you don't know what else to do.

"Dude," Eddie speaks up, drawing Steve's gaze away from you while your own attention goes back to pressing yourself even more snugly into him, "she is totally sloshed."

You frown, shaking your head in fervent disagreement.

"Am not!"

"Sure you aren't, sweetheart," Eddie agrees placidly, but you get the impression he doesn't really mean it.

Before you can point this out, however, the blurry shape of Robin Buckley steps forward. The room is dark with flashing strobe lights and smoky with incense and cigarette smoke, but you'd recognize her voice anywhere.

"Who let you drink this much?" Robin asks as she lifts a hand up to brush some hair back from your forehead.

It's oddly soothing and so you lean into the contact with a happy hum. Robin and the others laugh — but then again, it sounds kinder than mean, the kind of laugh that bubbles up when you find something unexpectedly endearing, and so you don't mind as much as you maybe should.

"Nobody," you mumble as you press your face into the side of Steve's neck and take a deep breath in; his scent is the same as always, earthy and warm with an underlying hint of that stupid spray he likes to use sometimes. "I'm here alone. 'Cause Steve here blew me off for you guys, but that's okay," you say, even though, to be fair, it sort of isn't true — he didn't blow you off.

"Hey," Steve starts, sounding half-indignant and half-apologetic all at once. He's got an arm around your shoulder now, supporting you and keeping you upright, which makes you want to tangle yourself up in him completely. "You didn't tell me you wanted me to come hang out with you tonight!"

You sigh mournfully against his skin, feeling wistful all of a sudden. It's true. You hadn't told him. That was partially due to the fact that you had been trying to prove to yourself that you weren't so desperately and helplessly infatuated with him that you needed his presence constantly, but that plan had obviously backfired on you spectacularly.

"No," you mutter unhappily as Steve moves the two of you towards a nearby couch. "But I missed you. Don't wanna miss you."

Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, who are watching the two of you with expressions of varying degrees of amusement, exchange looks. Steve pretends not to notice, probably because he knows he won't like what they have to say if he hears it, and instead guides you down onto the cushions next to him. "You're drunk."

"You're pretty," you reply without hesitation, even though you're very clearly changing the subject. "It's unfair, y'know?"

You hear Robin snort, followed by a quiet thud like someone's just been slapped on the arm, and you know it's her who laughed, and that it must have been Nancy who'd shut her up. You don't know where Eddie is; you're not even sure when he wandered off, to be honest. You're too focused on Steve and the way his face looks under the colorful flashing lights.

"Oh yeah?" he asks, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too widely at your comment. His eyes are bright with laughter when you meet his gaze and nod confidently. "How do I get 'unfair', exactly?"

"'S all in the face," you say matter-of-factly, your own fingers trailing down his cheek in an almost absentminded gesture. "Kinda makes it hard to think about anything else sometimes, if I'm being real here. Like, it's not really fair, 'cause then what are we supposed to talk about? Oh, oh—and then there's your hair!"

"My hair?"

Robin wheezes somewhere behind you, which would have made you giggle if you were still paying attention to the people in the room besides Steve, but you're not.

"Mmhmm," you hum, your eyes running over the soft brown locks on top of his head. "Love it. Wanna touch it all the time. Y'see, Steve? You see? This is why it's not fair at all. And, and—" you trail off here for dramatic effect, squinting at him theatrically before leaning closer with your hand cupped to the side of your mouth, as if you're about to share something private. "—the way you make my insides feel? So, so unfair. Totally your fault, buddy."

"Wha-" Steve croaks out, looking alarmed and caught off guard by your drunken confession. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh," you regain your serious tone, frowning at him in a somewhat bemused manner when he continues to gape at you. "Not 'sposed to tell you. S'not the rules."

Eddie barks out a laugh somewhere off to your left, but Steve ignores him. "Rules?"

"Yeah, 's against the rules, dummy," you say, like he should've already known that. "Gotta follow the rules! Duh. Steve."

"Yeah, Steve, duh," Robin pipes up, earning herself a glare from Steve as well as a smirk from Eddie. "Oops, sorry. Please, continue."

"Can I touch your hair? Like, please, 'cause I might die if I don't, 'kay? If that's okay. Gotta test the theory. Just a little bit, though." You can tell by his expression that he wants to laugh, and that he's also mildly worried that you've lost your mind. "Please?"

Robin, Eddie and Nancy have their hands clapped over their mouths to contain their laughter. You're too drunk to notice, but Steve narrows his eyes at them in warning. "Yes," he says. "Just—yeah, go ahead."

With a little noise of excitement, you reach out to card your fingers through his hair. He smells really good — like clean laundry and fresh pine trees — and the feel of his hair in your palm is exactly what you had imagined, though you're loathe to pull your hand away now that you've felt it.

Steve goes unnaturally still as you press your face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, a move he should have expected but didn't, and you sigh happily when the scent of his cologne hits you full force. He's like a living, breathing, cuddly teddy bear, you think, a combination of warmth, softness, and comfort all rolled up in one gorgeous, handsome, unobtainable package.

"You're warm," you mumble, feeling like you could fall asleep right now. "So, so warm. 'S like you've got a space heater in your chest, 'n that's like, so awesome."

He blinks a few times, momentarily speechless as he tries to come to terms with the fact that you are, in fact, drunk enough to be saying whatever the hell comes to your mind. "Uh, thanks?"

"Smell nice too," you murmur, hugging him tighter to you. "Like, wow. Love your hair, like, love love."

His cheeks are burning hot now, his heart beating erratically in his chest when he notices Eddie staring at the two of you with a knowing gleam in his eye. "That's—thank you, but, hey, come on now," Steve says, his voice faltering a little. "Let's get you home, okay?"

"I don't wanna."

"Don't you wanna sleep in your bed?"

You pause, considering his words, and eventually concede that, yes, your bed does sound lovely right about now, so you give him a brief nod in response. "I guess, but can you come too?"

He chokes on air, but manages to play it off by clearing his throat. "What—to your bed? No!"

"Why not?"

Steve shifts a little under your intense, alcohol-addled scrutiny; he feels strangely guilty, as though he's letting you down by saying no. "Because you're drunk?" he says, feeling flustered and unreasonably nervous all of a sudden.

You scrunch up your face in a pout. "Oh, that's a dumb reason."

Steve chuckles and you sigh happily again, because you love his laugh and everything else about him, and he seems to realize this, given the way his expression softens. "Come on, you drunkard. Let's go home," he says gently, tugging on your arm in an attempt to get you to stand.

You resist at first, shaking your head stubbornly as you hold onto him. "Can't. My legs don't work anymore. They're all wobbly."

Steve closes his eyes for a moment, huffs out a soft laugh, and you can't help but grin up at him. He's so pretty that, like, how is that even allowed? How can you be around him and not spontaneously combust or something?

"Well, what if I carried you?"

"Like a princess?"

Steve looks at you with an expression you can't decipher — it's halfway between incredulous and endeared, and it makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage.

"How romantic," Nancy observes.

"So long as she doesn't throw up on him," Eddie adds, nodding sagely in agreement.

"Oh, I hope she does," Robin says, with a devious smile, "he'd deserve it for being such a coward."

"I'm...right here, guys, and I can still hear you." Steve finally says, throwing them a scathing look that only makes them laugh. "If you're not going to be helpful, you can wait in the car."

"As if," Eddie counters.

Steve opens his mouth to tell him where exactly he can stick his opinions, when you grab the front of his shirt and drag him closer.

"Steve," you say, the smile falling from your face as a sudden thought occurs to you. "Are you mad at me? Because I can go home by myself. That's okay."

"Hey, no," he replies softly, "I'm not mad at you, sweetheart. Not ever."

"'Sweetheart'? Really?" Eddie mutters to Nancy, who elbows him in the ribs when he doesn't lower his voice in time. "Ow, okay, okay—just saying. Don't want them to keep dancing around each other forever, is all."

"I'm not dancing," you tell him, completely unaware of Eddie's snickering, "I don't have any shoes on, Eddie. Wouldn't be able to dance without shoes on. Silly."

"My bad," Eddie says, his lips twitching with badly concealed laughter, "forgive me."

Steve scowls at him before turning his attention back to you, his face so close to yours that you can momentarily feel the tickle of his breath against your skin. "Okay, come on," he says, "up we go."

And then, in one swift movement, he slides his arm under your knees and scoops you up into his arms. You let out a squeak of surprise and automatically wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

"Oh, oh, oh," you say excitedly, "you really are gonna carry me."

"Told you so." Steve adjusts his grip on you and makes his way towards the exit. "Are you good? Am I hurting you?"

You shake your head slowly, grinning as you stare at him from a whole new angle. "No," you tell him, feeling much more awake than you were moments before. "This is...this is like, actually kinda cool."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you repeat, smiling shyly back at him. "Feel like a real life Cinderella now. Whoa, you're, like, super strong."

"Yeah, Stevie, you're 'super strong.'" Eddie teases, waggling his eyebrows when Steve sends him a quick glare. "Aw, don't look at me like that. It's cute. The two of you."

Nancy doesn't tease like Robin and Eddie do. She walks behind Steve, making sure to stay a couple steps behind to give the two of you some privacy. Even so, when you look over your shoulder to make sure nobody's listening, she gives you a wink and a small thumbs-up that makes you smile.

The parking lot is filled with teenagers all wandering aimlessly in groups, so it takes Steve a while to navigate his way through the crowd. By the time he finds the spot where he parked his BMW, you've grown drowsy enough to rest your head on his shoulder.

Eddie immediately pops open the door to the backseat, slapping it a few times as he looks over at Steve and grins. "Hurry it up, lover boy," he drawls out, "she looks half-asleep already."

"She's fine," Steve shoots back, frowning in annoyance when Eddie and Robin both pretend to yawn exaggeratedly, "shut up. I hate you guys."

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no-goodbyes-no-regrets · 3 months ago

Text

Here's a little "nobody knows we're back together" ficlet that I definitely didn't write while avoiding the prompts in my inbox.😅🙊

---

"Buck! Where are you? I've been banging on your door for the last fifteen minutes, your neighbours are going to call the cops on me soon." Chim said when Buck finally answered his phone.

"Chim? What's going on?" He asked, still half asleep.

Two minutes ago he'd been warm and comfortable, asleep in Tommy's arms, planning on enjoying the fact neither of them had anywhere to be for the next three days, and now his brother in law was yelling at him over the phone.

"What's going on is that I'm outside your door and I need you to open up before I get arrested for disrupting the peace."

"That's not a thing." Buck mumbled as he reluctantly untangled himself from Tommy's grip and looked around for something to wear.

He put the call on speaker as he pulled a hoodie over his head and was vaguely aware of Chim telling him it was most definitely a thing while putting on a pair of sweats that may or may not be his.

"Where are you going? Come back to bed." Tommy mumbled, reaching out for him. His hair was a mess and there were pillow creases in his cheek, but Buck thought he'd never looked better.

"Someone's at the door. I'll be right back." he leaned down for a kiss and only just managed to resist the urge of letting his boyfriend pull him back into bed with him.

"Hurry back."

"Yeah, I'll get rid of him and then I'm all yours."

"I can hear you, you know." Chim's voice came through the phone. "And will you just open the damn door already?"

"I'm coming, relax." Buck mumbled and dropped a kiss in Tommy's hair before making his way down the stairs. He hoped whatever Chim's problem was, would be an easy fix and he'd be back in Tommy's arms soon.

They'd been back together for a few weeks now, after Buck had finally decided to call Tommy, and then show up on his doorstep when he hadn't answered.

They'd yelled and cried until they'd both been exhausted and collapsed into bed together for the best night's sleep either of them had had since the break up.

The next morning they'd decided to keep things to themselves for a while, to actually enjoy dating and getting to know each other without friends and family getting involved.

As far as he knew nobody suspected anything, though that could be changing soon.

Buck rubbed the sleep from his eyes and opened the door.

"Finally! Your neighbour from down the hall is this close to calling the cops on me." Chim held up his thumb and pointer finger, barely an inch apart, as he walked into the loft, followed by Jee-yun who was holding onto his other hand, looking unsure of what was going on.

"What? Which one?"

"Does it matter?"

"No I suppose not." Buck mumbled, closing the door behind Chim. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? I'm here to drop off your niece, who you agreed to watch today while both me and Maddie picked up extra shifts."

"Wait, what? When did I agree to that? Why are you working an extra shift?"

"I don't know, the second child that's on its way maybe? Or the family trip to Korea we've got planned for next year? That I told you about. More than once."

"I... Uh... Yeah... Ok... Right."

And whoever you've got up there can either leave or get down here and deal with you watching your niece." Chim said, raising his voice slightly and yelling up the stairs." I heard you talking to someone so don't try the there's no-one there thing."

Buck sighed.

There was no way Chim was going to let this go. And if he was, Jee would tell him or Maddie by the time they came to pick her up.

"Babe, are you awake? Just put some clothes on and get down here a minute."

"Babe? You call your hook up babe?" Chim asked but Buck ignored him.

They heard the bed creak and there was some shuffling upstairs.

"I think I've got your sweats, just grab mine." Buck called out and did his best to ignore the looks Chim was giving him.

"You've got a guy up there? Well good for you, getting back out there after Tommy. You're not getting out of babysitting though."

Buck gave him a slight shrug and just kept watching the top of the stairs.

He could tell the exact moment Tommy came into view and Chim recognised him without even watching either of them.

Tommy slowly walked down the stairs, still half asleep, and wearing Buck's clothes. He gave Chim a half wave as he shuffled past him and over to Buck.

"Morning." he pressed a dry kiss to Buck's lips and then turned to face Chim. "Morning Howie. I hope you'll forgive me for not giving you a good morning kiss, I haven't brushed my teeth yet."

"But you will kiss me before brushing your teeth?" Buck teased and Tommy tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

"I think we both know I've done a lot more than that without brushing my teeth and you didn't seem to mind."

Buck laughed a little but decided not to argue with him.

"When did this happen? When did you get back together? Are you back together?"

"We are." Tommy confirmed, slipping an arm around Buck's waist and sleepily resting his head on his shoulder.

"We got back together a few weeks ago but we wanted to keep it quiet for now." Buck explained. "But I guess everyone will know within the hour now."

Chim looked at them, trying to process the information, until suddenly the loud music from one of Jee's favourite shows started blaring through the loft.

Buck kind of regretted teaching her how to work his TV.

"I... You... But..." Chim stammered then focused on Tommy. "Wait... When you blew me off last week when I wanted to take you out to karaoke..."

"I had plans with Evan."

"I can't believe it." he mumbled and turned to Buck. "But you're still baking."

"We bake together. And some of the stuff I've brought in the past few weeks was store bought." Buck explained. "We just wanted to enjoy being together without everyone else getting involved. I'm just... tired of everyone telling me what to do or what I feel. I want to be with him, I love him."

Tommy lifted his head and smiled.

"I love you too." he said and the two of them shared a kiss.

"I... am happy for you guys." Chim settled on. "and you're going to tell me exactly how and when this happened." he gestured to the two of them. "But I'm running late for my shift and we need the money so..." he trailed off and quickly walked over to Jee. "Sweetheart, daddy has to go to work now, ok? You be good for your uncle Buck and uncle Tommy."

Jee nodded, barely paying attention to her father, eyes fixed on the TV screen. Chim kissed the top of her head and turned back to Buck and Tommy.

"Maddie will pick her up after her shift. She'll text you when she's on her way." he told them, making his way to the door. "You owe me a drink and a night of karaoke, Kinard."

"Sure. Text me. We'll pick a date."

"Sure. If you think you can fit me in between work and making out with my brother in law." Chim joked. "Ok I have to go. Have a good day guys, and please don't traumatise my daughter." he laughed and walked out the door, only to come back in right away. "Don't think this means you can elope when you get married. I need to see you all dressed up and standing up in front of everyone. Just so I can remind you I got you together." he paused and looked at Tommy. "Just don't give him a clipboard."

#Tevan #bucktommy #tevan fic #bucktommy fic

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babyflorencee · 2 months ago

Text

Clingy

Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Y/n was lying in her bed, the soft blankets draped over her like a warm embrace. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air from the fabric softener, mixing with the cool, crisp hint of the evening breeze that slipped through the cracked window. Outside, the moonlight streamed through the thin curtains, casting a silvery glow that bathed the room in a serene, dreamlike quality.

It had been a long day, and all she wanted was to relax and unwind. But the moment she closed her eyes, she felt the weight of someone climbing onto the bed next to her.

"Y/n," Harry whined as he slipped under the covers, his chilled fingers grazing her waist as he wrapped himself around her, resting his head on her chest. His body was cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the blankets.

"Harry," she said gently, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "What’s going on?"

"I’m just so cold," he whined, burying his face deeper into her chest. "And I don’t want to be cold anymore."

"Baby, you’re always cold," she laughed softly, tightening her arms around him. The sound of the sheets rustling filled the room. "And you’re literally wrapped up in a blanket right now."

He sighed dramatically, tightening his grip around her. "But I’m still cold, Y/n. And you have to warm me up."

"Okay, okay, I’ll keep you warm," she said, her tone tinged with amusement as she pulled him closer. Harry nuzzled into her neck, his cheek soft against her skin, his lips making the cutest pout, as she caught a faint trace of his cologne.

"I don’t ever want to let go of you," Harry mumbled. "You’re so warm and comfy."

"Well, you don't have to," she whispered, pressing a kiss on the top of his head.

Harry hummed contentedly, but his grip didn’t relax. If anything, it only tightened as he pressed himself against her side even more, like he was trying to melt into her completely. She could feel the warmth of his body against hers and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

"Y/n…" he whispered, his voice filled with a soft desperation. "Please just hold me."

"I am holding you," she replied, squeezing him back, trying to comfort him.

"No," Harry whined, "I mean, really hold me."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." Y/n assured him, pulling him closer, as her hands traced soothing patterns across his back. "Is this better?"

"Mhm."

"You're a big baby, you know that?"

"I’m not a baby," Harry argued, though his voice was muffled by the way his face was pressed into her hair. "I’m just very affectionate. That’s all."

"Uh-huh, sure," Y/n said with a teasing smile. "You’re just a little clingy, that’s all."

Harry tilted his head up to look at her, his eyes wide and innocent. "Clingy? Me?" he gasped dramatically. "How could you say such a thing?"

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh. "Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you won’t let me breathe without you being attached to me?"

"Well," Harry said with a little grin, "I’m not going to let you breathe without me attached. I like being attached to you." He punctuated his sentence by wrapping his arms tighter around her, as if to prove a point that didn't really make sense.

"You’re impossible," Y/n chuckled, letting him pull her in tighter. She could feel his warmth against her, and despite the teasing, it felt nice to be this close to him.

"Stop it. I just want to be near you," he mumbled, his voice soft and a little drowsy now. "What if you go somewhere? What if you leave me?"

"Harry," she said gently, "I’m not going anywhere."

"But what if you do?" he whined again, his hand clutching her shirt like he was never going to let her go. "I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay here. Forever."

Y/n’s heart melted at how vulnerable he was being. She brushed a strand of his messy hair away from his face before placing a kiss on his forehead. "I’m right here, Harry. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

He gave a satisfied sigh and rested his head against her chest, still clinging to her like she was his lifeline. "Okay," he said softly, "but if you ever try to leave, I’m going with you."

She laughed lightly, running her fingers through his hair. "I’m not going anywhere, so you can relax."

"But what if you go to the kitchen for a snack?" he asked with a pout. "What if you don’t come back?"

"Harry, I’m not going anywhere," she repeated, amused by his ridiculous worries. "You’re stuck with me, alright?"

He responded with a dramatic groan, still holding onto her as if his life depended on it. "Good. Because I want you all to myself, right here, forever."

Y/n smiled warmly, hugging him back. " I like having you all to myself, too."

A soft, contented hum escaped Harry as he snuggled even closer, pressing his cheek against her chest. "Good," he muttered, already half-asleep. "Because I’m never letting go."

Y/n couldn’t help but smile as she felt his grip around her tighten again, and she realized that despite his clinginess, she didn’t mind one bit. In fact, she kind of loved it.

"You’re ridiculous," she whispered, running a hand gently over his back. "But I’m glad you’re here."

"I’m glad I’m here too," Harry mumbled, his voice fading as he drifted off to sleep, still holding onto her like she was his favorite thing in the world.

And as Y/n lay there, listening to his soft breathing and feeling the warmth of his body against hers, she realized just how perfect these quiet moments were. Even if he was clingy, Harry was exactly where he needed to be—right beside her.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #one direction

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gracieheartspedro · 3 months ago

Text

Nobody Likes A Secret

pairing: no outbreak rich older!joel miller x fem!reader.

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 3k words

description: a rich wealthy playboy who becomes enthralled by his neighbor's daughter. it never ends well when he can not fathom having happiness for himself.

warnings: ANGSTY!!!!!, age gap (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her mid 20s), wealthy!joel, neighbor!joel, reader is pretty naive and delusional, taboo relationship troupe, mentions of parent death, VERY BRIEF SMUT, joel is borderline evil and very mean. joel calls reader "kid". joel is also a liar. talks of having children.

author’s note: I wrote this all in like... two nights. I listened to illicit affair by taylor swift and nobody likes a secret by lizzy mcalpine a lil much and it ended up here. sorry if I make you sad.

You creep into the large 4-car garage, seeing Joel pacing the oil-stained floor. He’s still in his work clothes, but he looks a bit disheveled. His eyes are wild, his face downturned into a deep-set frown.

“Joel? Everything okay?”

He shakes his head. “He knows.”

You know only one person who would ruin this.

‘This’ being an 9-month-long affair with your older neighbor. Months and months of meeting in dark corners, hardly ever seeing each other in the light.

“How?”

Joel fumbles trying to pull his phone out of his pocket, showing you the 5 missed calls from your Dad. You stare at it blankly, tightening your jaw at the possibility that your Dad is too smart for his own good. Shit, he does know, doesn’t he? He throws the phone down on a nearby leather couch that is positioned near a workbench. Joel was pretty good with his hands, but lately his mind has been anywhere but tinkering with wood in his garage.

“He came over an hour ago. Sat me down and told me that he was getting suspicious of some outings you’ve had over the last couple months. Said he realized you were not going to the places you said you were going to. So he assumed you had a new boyfriend or something. Then last night…”

You curl your hands into a fist. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck,” Joel grumbles, running his hands over his face, dragging his lower lids down in frustration, “He said that if I know anything or see anything, I am to let him know immediately. He’s worried you’re fuckin’ around with the wrong guy.”

You had snuck out of your house last night and tiptoed your way into Joel’s car, which was parked in a nearby cul de sac. He promised you a nice late dinner in the city and then he ravished you in a hotel room you two didn’t even spend the night in. He brought you home around 4 am and you snuck back into your bedroom, ensuring nothing in your home was stirred. When you woke up the next morning, your father left you a note that he wanted to do dinner with you that night. Meaning tonight.

You know this is detrimental, and while you do not want to freak out immediately, you can not help but feel like someone is stabbing you directly in the chest. Joel’s body language is giving off negative signals, so even though you want to hug him and tell him that you can talk to your Dad, you know it’s not going to change much.

Your eyes well with tears, thinking of how this was going to ruin everything. After months and months, you thought you were being so smart.

“We can’t do this anymore,” He whispers.

And God damn, did Joel hate seeing you cry.

But the tear-filled eyes you are giving him are warranted. You don’t turn away from him like usual. You never wanted to show him any weakness.

This time you confront him, your nose turning upward and your eyes full of disdain.

“You said we were being careful,” You murmur, the salty tears falling down your cheeks.

“Not careful enough.”

The bitterness tastes like blood in your mouth. You want to scream at him but keep an even tone instead, “Joel… Just let me talk to him.”

“You knew where this was gonna end up,” He states plainly, his voice not wavering.

And maybe he was right, but you enjoyed living in a loved-up delusion. Maybe it was the sex or maybe it was the looks he gave you from across densely populated parties you were forced to go to. You would put on a show long enough to make your father happy and then you would somehow sneak away with Joel. You knew if your father caught you with the much older man, he would lose his mind, so you were always cautious. You made sure the doors were locked. The moans would stay hushed. The car was parked far from your front door. And during the time spent away from the house, you would get a girlfriend to lie for you. You were always so careful.

“Maybe he suspects it’s someone else.” you try to reassure him, but you know it’s falling on deaf ears.

“You know he knows it’s me.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

Joel rolls his eyes. He knows that your father’s words were simply a warning. If you two continued this schtick, you know better than anyone your father would find out. You knew he already kind of had eyes on you and Joel had caught on to a couple of neighbors watching him from their bedroom windows. He gives your father credit, he was thorough.

“We have to stop.”

You did not realize how much your heart was banking on making this work. Joel was about 25 years older, so deep down, you knew that no one would accept the relationship. But in your wildest fantasies, you imagined you two would run away together. He had tons of money, you had nothing tying you down, and it could be a perfect escape. You had brought it up one night after you snuck over to his bed and he didn’t explicitly say no. He just giggled and continued tracing circles on your bare back.

You bite the inside of your cheek, “So you just… don’t want me anymore?”

He huffs, already annoyed you were making it seem like he had a choice.

“It was never gonna work out in the first place, kid.”

You just stare at him. The nickname hit harder than it ever has. After months of sneaking around with you, Joel only ever saw you as that. A kid.

“Don’t call me that. Ever.”

He notices the rise in your voice and quickly realizes he made a mistake.

“Listen-”

It’s like every terrible emotion you have ever had comes bubbling to the surface. The resentment you held towards him when he ignored your calls some nights. Or when he refused to get near you at any party. You had your grievances, but you sat there like a good girl and just accepted him the way he was.

It’s like acid in your throat, it burns.

“No, you listen,” You snap, “You don’t get to play the kid card. You chose this just as much as I did. You told me that my age didn’t matter. You told me that you would want children with me one day. You filled my head with all this bullshit and now when shit gets real, you walk away. You’re a fuckin’ coward, Joel.”

“My reputation and livelihood is on the line for this! You think I don’t still want those things?”

“If you wanted them bad enough, you would fight for me.”

It makes his face drop. His furrowed eyebrows relax and his mouth droops down into a subtle frown.

You do not know where to go from here. The atmosphere in his garage rises with tension, words just hanging in the air.

The Annual Miller Christmas Party was the talk of the town. Everyone who received an invitation would proudly display the cardstock on their huge fridges and show their uninvited neighbors to brag. When Joel came over to hand deliver you and your father’s invitations, he told you to wear something sparkly.

You searched everywhere for the perfect gown for weeks. He had only really shown you attention when forced to be in the same room as you, so you needed to be eye-catching. He was never the guy to wave to you when he was leaving for work or say a quiet hello at the grocery store. Joel was a very regimented man. He never strayed away from his routine which was usually work, hookups with random women, and sleep. He never kept a woman around for too long. You noticed the circulation of women changed every month or so. Joel never wanted to settle down. He had tried that once 15 years ago and his ex ended up with half of his company.

But you always loved the way the man carried him. Despite his playboy behavior, you were entranced with him. You always thought he was handsome and when you came home at 25 to help your mother who had fallen sick, you knew that your crush had morphed into borderline obsession. Living next to him would be dangerous.

The dress you chose was red, which was fitting for the occasion. And of course, it was sparkly. Just what Joel ordered.

You spent all day preparing for the evening and when you showed up on his front door on your Father’s arm, he could not peel his eyes away. You were so radiant and perfect. The twinkle in your eyes shone brighter than the glitter on your gown.

During the night, you drank a couple of glasses of champagne and chatted up some of your Father’s colleagues. You notice Joel’s eyes following you every so often. You can vividly remember thinking, “This man wants me so bad.”

That night Joel cornered you in the hallway by the bathroom. He asked you if you were interested in literature, but really he just wanted you alone in his study. You being you, you enthusiastically said yes and followed him down the unlit corridor. Once he shut the huge wooden double doors, you knew that you would be slipping out of that gown for him in no time.

And that’s exactly what happened.

He drove you crazy, peppering kisses all down your body. He would groan every time he heard your shaky breath, knowing that the effect he had on you would become a dependence for him.

When he first pressed into you, it was different than any other woman he’s ever been with. You did not throw your head back, moaning obscenities. Instead, you stared into his eyes and nodded, encouraging him to continue his movements. It was so sensual and passionate, by the time you two finished, he held you in his arms for 20 minutes. He was never one for pillow talk or aftercare, so he surprised himself.

You were different than any other woman he had ever encountered.

You had slipped over to his front door a couple of days after the Christmas party, knocking to ask his assistant if he was home. When she brought you into his office, he told his assistant to shut the door on the way out. His eyes never left yours as you bantered to him. He loved your confidence. He bent you over his desk after 10 minutes, tugging up your skirt and swatting your ass for showing up on his doorstep looking “this beautiful”.

Joel always made you feel so good. His dirty talk went to Harvard. He could make you cum over and over with his husky Southern accent. Every time he called you “darlin’” or “princess”, you would come undone.

A couple of months into the entanglement, your Mother’s health deteriorated overnight. You and your Father stayed by her side when she took her last breaths. It was devastating, seeing the woman you looked up to your entire life slowly slip away. You felt like a shell of a person, unable to really harbor any feeling other than pain.

Joel called you and let you know he would not be able to attend the funeral due to work commitments. You did not care, understanding that there’s never a good time for someone to die and he had no obligation to come. You arrived at the funeral home and saw a huge arrangement of purple and blue flowers. On the card, was scribbled in his handwriting.

“What a breath of fresh air she was. Thinking of her family, always. Joel Miller.”

When it was time for the burial, you watched a large SUV pull up right before the final words were going to be spoken. Joel hopped out the back and slowly approached, keeping his distance from you and the rest of the attendees. Once she was lowered into the ground, Joel came over to give his condolences to your inconsolable father.

You stayed back, watching everyone except him leave. You sat in the first row of fold-out chairs, watching them throw dirt over her casket. He sat down next to you, never saying anything. His hand extended out, touching your hand that was resting on your lap. It was an unspoken thing, but you never felt more seen in your entire life. He somehow knew exactly what you needed.

Someone next to you.

After a couple of months, you felt more like yourself. You called him one night, asking if he was available for a drive. He parked his truck in your usual meet-up spot. You crawled up into the passenger seat and asked him to drive. You did not care where. You two caught up and once he could tell you were getting back to some semblance of yourself, he made his move. He was stopped at a red light when he placed his hand on your thigh. It was the first time you had sex in his truck. That night kickstarted the affair again, which led to the secret meetings in hotel rooms. You two got more bold with your rendezvous, even taking a weekend to the mountains. You don’t even remember the lie you told your Father as to why you were gone.

Joel always thought you were capable. He admired you for being such a dynamic woman. To be so strong and delicate at the same time was unheard of. Even though you were much younger than him, you were well-versed in everything. You were professional and smart when it came to business. All the while, you were polite and empathetic. He would frequently come to you when he needed advice about work or an opinion on something ethical. He enjoyed hearing you ramble on about things you were passionate about. And God, did he love your laugh.

He did not expect to keep you around as long as he did. But your body was like a drug and Joel had a nasty habit. You were always eager and available, and after a while, Joel started thinking maybe it was too much all at once. When you became comfortable enough to sleep over in his bed and make him breakfast, he knew his world was tilted on its axis.

He needed to find a way to ruin it for himself, as he had done so many times before.

He “slipped up” one night. As he and his chatty neighbor Jeff sat outside and smoked cigars, he spoke about his desire for you. He didn’t particularly say that you two were together, but simply insinuated that he would like to have you alone. And the rumors spread quickly. Soon enough a little birdie was in your Dad’s ear, feeding him information.

Joel kept up the act with you, even though it was not really an act. He did like you, hell, he may have even loved you. But he did not want you to need him. So when people started paying more attention to you and him, he knew his plan was set in motion. In no time, it would all come crashing down.

“If your Dad takes this to the board, I will lose my company. Do you understand that?”

You hated that you understood stupid business jargon. You knew that Joel losing his company would be devastating. But at this point, you could not care less. Because for as long as your affair, you watched his walls fall away. He had let you in more than once and in your delusional state, you believed for a second that he would choose you over his job.

You clench your teeth as you suck in a sharp breath, tears still streaming down your warm face.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then we just end it. This has already gone too far.”

You finally turn away from him, your eyes falling to the concrete floor. As soon as he says those words, chills run down your arms.

“You know Joel…” You drift off, using your shirt sleeve as a tissue. You wipe away a couple of tears and glare back up at him, “I would have given up everything in my life for this. My job. My relationship with my father. Everything. And the fact that you won’t even give me a chance to talk to my Dad to see if he could spare you and this whole charade, really fucking hurts. I’m not worth that to you and that… That’s what hurts the most.”

“Babe-”

“No. You don’t get to call me that anymore. You don’t get to call me anything.”

The tears flow again as you watch him exhale, his hands on his hips. His hair is unkept and the tie he’s wearing has been loosened.

“I’m sorry,” Is all he can say while your lip quivers. You are trying not to lose it completely.

You just shake your head, “No. You’re not sorry.”

He was. He was sorry, but he could not let you ruin everything.

Joel would soon know that you were everything. And as you left the back door that evening, leaving behind the scent of your perfume, he knew that the smell would somehow taint his sheets, even though you had not been in them for weeks. He already started to miss the feeling of your lips. When he tried to go about his evening, he swore he would see you in the shadows of his large house. He even thought he heard your laugh. You were already haunting him even though the death of your relationship happened just hours before.

You moved on after a couple of years. Met a guy at your 9-5, settled down, and popped out a few kiddos. Some nights you would lie awake, wondering to yourself if Joel was really happy. You never learned the truth of his deceit. After all, your Father was just grateful that his warning to Joel led to his desired outcome, which was him being gone from your life entirely.

And Joel would be haunted for the rest of his life. No woman. No drugs. No party. Nothing ever filled the void you left behind. And it was all his fault. Just like it always had been.

#joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou joel #joel tlou #pedro pascal #affair au #check tags #angsty joel miller #fic: nobody likes a secret

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