#there's good in this world and it's worth fighting for

[daryltwdixon]

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Tension at camp is nothing new, but after Daryl nearly takes a swing at Shane, you pull him away to the quarry, offering a distraction that quickly turns into something else entirely.

Tags: smut MDNI, pinv, fem reader, pullout method, kissing, public(ish) sex, outdoor sex, quickie, quarry!daryl, protective!daryl, husband!daryl, shane ‘tell ya what’ walsh is an ass what's new, little bit of praise kink, established relationship, sweet relationship, age gap mentioned but not specified

a/n: I’ve been watching season 1 on repeat too often. I remember when I didn’t think quarry Daryl was that cute and now I’m FERAL for the man. Top 3 fave versions of this man that’s for damn certain. thank you for reading!! lmk what you think!

The smell of campfire smoke was thick in the air, clinging to your clothes, your skin, following you no matter where you sat. It was the first time in a while you’d joined the others instead of sitting around the separate fire Merle usually built on the other side of camp. But with him gone on a recent run into the city with a few of the others, along with the sight of the pile of fish Andrea and Amy had hauled in, you told Daryl the best way to get a bite was to play nice and sit with the group—unless, of course, he wanted squirrel stew for the fifth night in a row.

But now, sitting there, you were starting to regret that decision.

Even with the world gone to hell and class lines erased overnight, some things hadn’t changed. They still shrank away from you, their discomfort as thick as the smoke curling through the air. And Daryl? They didn’t just avoid him. They dismissed him. Ignored him. Like he wasn’t worth a second glance.

You didn’t pay it any mind. You were used to people underestimating him, used to them not seeing him for who he really was. Beneath the sharp stares and sharper tongue, he was a good man. Your man. And these people—they’d never understand that.

The sun dipped lower, setting the valley in a wash of pink and orange, the glow of the fire growing brighter with every passing minute. Conversations murmured around you, voices low as they discussed camp security—how to reinforce their perimeter, how to keep the geeks out. So far, they’d been lucky, nestled deep in the woods with none of the dead stumbling through just yet.

Still, that luck wouldn’t last forever.

You shifted, glancing toward the tree line. “We could set up noise traps,” you offered. “Tin cans, broken glass—something to warn us if somethin’s comin’.”

The second the words left your mouth, Shane, a man with dark eyes and even darker scowl, scoffed as he paused mid conversation with another resident. You barely had time to blink before he turned on you, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you’d had the audacity to speak up.

“Yeah? That what you think?” He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Tell you what, next time I need advice on how to run this place, I’ll be sure to come find you, sweetheart.”

The word dripped with condescension, slow and deliberate.

Your lip curled, rolling your eyes as you turned away. “Dick,” you muttered under your breath.

Shane barely let a beat pass before he fired back, voice laced with smug amusement.

“Better watch your lil’ backwoods girl there, Dixon,” he sneered, dark eyes flicking toward Daryl. “Might just have to give her somethin’ to scoff about with that mouth on ‘er.”

Silence hushed over the group like an uneasy wave. The fire popped, the only sound in the sudden, tense stillness as the eyes of everyone in the camp turned to look at you.

There was a loud scrape of metal groaning, Daryl’s lawn chair shoving back under him as he stood abruptly.

“The hell d’you just say, asshole?” he snapped, voice sharp as steel.

Shane barely flinched. His jaw worked, tension coiled tight in his shoulders, but instead of rising to the fight, he let out a slow breath through his nose. He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head.

“Christ, Dixon,” he muttered, voice low, measured, not even smug, just tired. “Ain’t gotta get all riled up. Was just a joke.”

Daryl’s hands curled into fists. “Yeah? Didn’t sound like one.”

Shane exhaled hard, eyes flicking around at the others watching before landing back on Daryl. His expression hardened.

"Ain't my fault you can't take a joke, Dixon. Least when your brother was here, we didn't have to listen to you run your mouth. He at least kept you on your side of camp.”

Daryl’s knuckles went white, his fists clenching tighter as he glared. Across the fire, Shane held his gaze, eyes steady—calm, almost—but there was a challenge in them, a quiet go on, do it lingering beneath the surface, prodding without a word.

You felt the fight still coiled tight in Daryl’s body as you wrapped your fingers around his upper arm, could feel the way his muscles flexed under your grip, the way his whole damn being was strung tight. You stepped in closer, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “Come on,” you murmured, his body warm as your hand curled tighter around his bicep, firm but gentle. “Let’s get outta here.”

Daryl didn’t move at first, his breathing still uneven, his fists still clenched.

Then, finally, he exhaled sharply and let you pull him back, turning away from the fire, from the camp, from the people who would never understand either of you.

The sun's dying light stretched long over the jagged rocks of the valley below, the water rippling in deep, coppery hues as you walked down to the quarry to get your mind off the argument at the firepit. 

When you finally got to the bottom, Daryl leaned against a boulder, his face half-lit in the glow of dusk. He'd been quiet most of the evening, despite his blow up earlier, deep blue eyes flicking to you like he was chewing on something he didn’t quite know how to spit out.

You stepped in front of him, close enough to smell the sweat and earth clinging to his shirt, the faint scent of pine from the day hunting. "I’m sorry about…about whatever that was,”

His jaw ticked. “Ain’t nothin’ for you to apologize for,” he muttered, but he wasn’t looking at you, gaze fixed somewhere past your shoulder. “Dickhead don’t even know good advice if it hit ‘em upside the head.”

You sighed, reaching up to brush a short lock of hair from his forehead. He let out a breath, more like a huff than anything, barely audible, but you caught it.

“You always get like this when you’re thinking too hard,” you teased softly. “What is this really about?”

His lips pressed together, jaw working, like he was still chewing on the words. Then, as natural as breathing, his fingers found your waist, rough and certain, pulling you in just a little closer.

“Just don’t want ‘em talkin’ to ya like that,” he admitted, voice gruff, quieter than the night settling around you. “Like you ain’t worth listenin’ to. Like you ain’t got a damn brain in your head. They only do it ‘cause you’re with me.”

Your chest ached at the frustration in his voice, the way it came out stiff, like he hated even saying it out loud.

“Daryl…”

“They already look at me like I don’t belong here,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Ain’t gonna let ‘em do that to you too.”

You cupped his jaw, fingers grazing over the rough stubble, waiting until he finally looked at you. His blue eyes were sharp, searching, like he was waiting for you to tell him he was wrong.

“I don’t give a shit what they think,” you murmured. “I chose you. You get that, right?”

Daryl swallowed hard, something flickering across his face–vulnerable and open, his brute mask slipping now that it was just the two of you. His grip on you tightened, his body pressing just a little closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“I ain’t gonna let ‘em make you feel small,” he muttered, almost more to himself than to you.

Your chest ached at the way he said it, like he wasn’t sure how to handle the way he cared. Like the thought of letting them think so little of you was gnawing at the edges of his mind. Your thumb traced over his skin as you held his face, grazing over his bottom lip, his chin, until you leaned in.

“You don’t have to,” you murmured, lips barely ghosting over his. “I know who I am. And I know who you are. Even if they can’t see it.”

His blue eyes caught to yours, something different in them, something raw and sweet that no one else was ever allowed to see. Then, before you could say another word, his mouth was on yours, sweet and gentle, lips chapped but insistent. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but the fast, unsteady rhythm of your heartbeats.

You melted into him, hands sliding around his neck, letting the kiss ignite into need and heat, letting him pour everything into it—his frustration, his fear, the love he wasn’t good at putting into words. The quarry was silent except for the quiet rush of the wind over the water and the uneven breaths you shared between kisses.

When he finally pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he took a long moment just to breathe as he closed his eyes. His hands stayed on you, gripping you tightly against him, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged across your lips.

"Thinkin' too hard again?" you whispered.

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Shut up," he muttered, but his lips brushed yours again, even softer this time, like he couldn’t help himself.

No one understood Daryl like you did. Not the folks at camp, not the people who side-eyed him like he was nothing but trouble, not even his own damn brother.

Thing was, no one really tried to know Daryl. They saw the brittle edges, the temper, the way he kept to himself. They saw the bickering between him and Merle, the way he came back from hunts with blood on his hands, all silent and brooding.

But you saw the man beneath all that.

Before the world turned upside down, you saw him for what he truly was. Gentle in ways he didn’t realize, kind in ways he never gave himself credit for. A man who had spent his whole life bracing for a fight, wearing his rough edges like armor, until you came along and showed him there was more to life than just surviving, even before the dead came back to life.

You were younger, but that never mattered to you. And once you finally convinced him that nothing—not even a pesky thing like an age gap, and definitely not his own doubts of whether he was good for you—was going to stop you from being with him, you watched him… soften. Let you in. 

You saw him on lazy summer afternoons, stretched out in the bed of his truck, hands behind his head, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he stared up at the sky. You saw him when he picked you up for late-night drives, old country rock humming low from the radio, one hand on the wheel, the other resting warm on your thigh.

Back then, he was just a man trying to carve out a place in a world that had never been kind to him. A man with rough hands but a soft touch when they traced the curve of your back. A man who met the world with a scowl but looked at you like you were a miracle—something precious, something his, something he’d spend a lifetime trying to deserve.

You remembered the nights he’d come to you after a bad fight with Merle, his knuckles split, his jaw clenched. He’d never talk about it, never tell you what happened—but he’d let you run your fingers through his hair, let you patch him up in the glow of your bedside lamp.

“You’re too good for me,” he’d mutter sometimes, voice low, like he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear it. Like he was afraid that this time you’d believe him and run for the hills.

And you’d brush your fingers through his hair, tilt his chin so he had no choice but to meet your eyes.

"You don’t get to decide that," you’d tell him, voice warm, certain.

He never argued. Just pulled you close, held onto you like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

And now, here in the middle of the world ending, he still held onto you like that.

The way those rough, calloused hands could still be careful, still be tender when they touched you. The way he always put himself between you and trouble, whether it was a walker shambling too close or some asshole in camp running his mouth. The way he let you get near, let you see him in a way no one else did.

Some things hadn’t changed, even when everything else had.

Something about those memories had your lips crashing back onto his, pressing him against the boulder with a force that made him grunt softly into your mouth. His fingers dug into your waist, like he wasn’t sure if he should stop you or drag you closer, but you didn’t give him a choice.

You grabbed the collar of his dirty shirt, fisting the fabric as you kissed him deep, claiming, letting him feel the way you wanted him. He let you have it—let you take and take, let you push up on your toes and press into him like you couldn’t get close enough.

Then, when your hips rolled just right against his, he growled. Low, guttural, needy against your mouth.

His hands slid down, gripping the curve of your ass, dragging you closer until your hips fit against the hard press of him. You gasped against his lips, nails raking up the nape of his neck, and pulled the short hair that stuck there, and that was what made something snap in him.

He twisted you around so fast you barely had time to think, hands gripping your hips as he pressed you forward, your palms bracing against the boulder. The rough stone bit into your skin, but it barely registered. Not with the heat of him behind you, breath hot against your neck, hands dragging under your shirt, spanning wide over your ribs before sliding down.

“You want somethin’ from me, girl? Hmm?” His voice was ragged but taunting, sending goosebumps down your spine as he leaned his body over you. 

A sharp breath left you when he pulled your hips back against him, grinding slow, measured, and the stiff press of his cock behind his jeans made your eyes roll, feeling just how much he wanted you too.

His lips dragged over the back of your neck, sucking in a breath like a hiss when you pressed your ass back into him.

“You, w–want you, Dare,” you murmured, the sound of his name breaking something open in him.

His fingers hooked under the waistband of your denim shorts, yanking them down with a roughness that made your breath catch, the cooling night air biting against flushed skin.

After the clatter of his belt buckle and the sharp zip of his jeans, he was on you—kissing your shoulder where the strap of your shirt fell, your neck, anywhere his lips could reach. Then he was there—thick, warm, heady with a scent that made you dizzy. He pressed the tip of his cock into you with a need so desperate it made your knees weak. Your center was slick with wanton need just from his touch, his kisses, the way he took you like he had to—like it was instinct, carved into him, a hunger he could never ignore. His hands splayed over your stomach, dragging you back onto him with a solid thrust, his breath heavy against your shoulder as he took you to the hilt in one long press of his hips. 

“I love you,” he said, voice hoarse as he continued to press open mouthed kisses to your skin, “Love you so god damn much,”

The sun dipped lower, its dying light casting everything in cool blue and shadow, the only warmth now rolling off Daryl’s body. You turned your head, reaching back to thread your fingers into his hair, tugging until his lips found yours in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. It was haphazard, messy in the way that made it real—the slide of tongues, the clash of breath, the moan that tore from your throat, loud and shameless against the quiet night.

He groaned into your mouth, swallowing the sound, pressing his forehead against yours for the briefest second before dragging his lips down your jaw, your neck, everywhere he could reach with his mouth. His hips rolled in steady, aching thrusts, sinking deep before dragging his cock out slow, teasing, making you squirm against the rock.

“I love you too,” you murmured, voice wrecked, sincere. “Always, Daryl.”

His jaw slacked and he rested his face against your shoulder, his pace growing rougher, more erratic, each thrust punctuated by the sharp slap of skin against skin, his groans mixing with the wet, sinful sounds of your bodies joining in the cool evening air.

“So good f’me, baby,” he whimpered, the sound raw, unraveling. His hand slipped between you and the rough stone in front of you, fingers seeking, finding, calloused fingertips pressing into the heat of you. He knew your body too damn well—knew exactly how to wind you up, knew what it took to have you gasping, shaking, screaming his name just the way he liked it.

“Daryl, it’s—too much—they’ll hear—” you choked, gasping as his fingers worked tight, slow circles over your swollen clit, a shudder wracking through your body.

His lips dragged up the side of your neck, breath hot, voice ragged.

“Fuck ‘em,” he murmured, his voice low and grinding. “Wanna hear every pretty sound you make for me. Wanna feel you come on my cock, just like you always do—c’mon now, baby, give it to me. Be a good girl now.”

A shudder rolled through you, his words sinking deep, making it impossible to fight the pleasure coiling hot in your belly. His fingers pressed harder, circling your clit with devastating precision, his thrusts turning sharp and frantic.

You bit your lip, trying to smother the cry threatening to break free, but he wasn’t having it.

Daryl’s free hand came up across your chest, fingers gripping your jaw, tilting your head so his lips were right against your ear. “Don’t you hold back on me,” he rasped. “Wanna hear you, feel you, know you’re mine.”

Your body tensed, the pleasure mounting too fast, too sharp, and when his teeth scraped down against your pulse point, it sent you flying. 

Your moan broke free, loud and inhibited as your eyes rolled back, Daryl groaning in response, the noise tearing from his throat as his hips slammed in rhythm with his fingers against you.

“There it is,” he gritted out, voice strained. “That’s my girl, fuck—jus’ like that, baby.”

The pleasure tore through you like wildfire, your palms trembling against the rough stone. Your walls clenched tight around him, and Daryl let out a deep, wrecked fuck, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release.

With a sharp curse, he pulled his hand from your clit once he knew you were through, his breath hot and ragged against your shoulder. His thrusts grew erratic, deeper, rougher, chasing his own release. At the last second, he pulled out, his fist working over his cock, a deep, guttural groan tearing from his throat as thick ropes of cum spilled onto your lower back, hot and slick against your skin.

For a long moment, all that filled the night air was the sound of heavy breathing, the cool breeze ghosting over sweat-slicked skin.

You turned your head, looking at him over your shoulder, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. “Come wash up with me?”

Daryl huffed, still catching his breath, his hands squeezing at your hips like he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet. “Yeah? That what you want?”

You leaned back just enough for your ass to brush against him, teasing, knowing exactly what you were doing. “Well… we’re already dirty,” you mused, glancing at him with a glint in your eyes. “Might as well get clean together.”

Daryl let out a rough chuckle, his fingers dragging slow and deliberate over your skin. “You’re killin’ me, girl.”

You grinned, pulling off the rest of your clothes before taking his hand and tugging him towards the water’s edge.

“Well? You comin’?”

[quotefeeling]

There is some good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

[dearru]

like a dog | s.hinata

-> pairing: hinata shoyo x gn!reader | sfw | cw: lovesick shoyo | wc: 1080 | genre: fluff | mlist

-> synopsis: shoyo always thinks about you. 

SHOYO’s not ashamed to admit that he’s a little obsessed with you.

He thinks about you all the time. At work, at the gym, in the shower. Your face is so etched into his memory that you appear in perfect clarity, slipping into his mind during the most mundane of moments. He’s always been an appreciative individual, but loving you has increased his gratefulness by tenfold. Thoughts of you make the ordinary feel sacred. 

But as much as he loves to think of you, he appreciates being with you far more. 

He’s just gotten home from a long day of training, and while his muscles ached, it’s his heart that feels the real strain. As much as he loves his job, hours spent away from you are absolute torture. For every second he’s not with you, he finds himself craving your presence more than anything in the world. 

It’s on nights like this one, when his body is sore and mind’s sick from longing, that there’s only one cure for his ailment– you. 

When he tip-toes into the bedroom, his chest lurches with excitement when he sees your figure laying in your shared bed. You’re already tucked under the quilted covers, but he can tell your mind is far from sleep. Your tired eyes are illuminated by the faint glow of a computer screen, and he watches you sigh deeply as your lithe fingers idly type away.

You work too hard. 

He frowns. It’s a bit silly to think about himself chastising you for overdoing it. Shoyo’s always been a proponent of the “you can never work too hard” mindset. He’s a firm believer that there are no shortcuts in life. If you want to succeed, you must pursue your ambition in earnest and push yourself past your limits. 

He’s preached this mindset time and time again. During conversations with friends, interviews with the press, and with his teammates. 

But in spite of it all, he finds himself wishing you’d rest. Even if it was just for a little while. 

Along with subscribing to the idea that there is merit in working hard, he also believes that one should lead by example. So, with a quiet resolve, he decides to display relaxation to you.

If his own selfish desires also happened to be served in the process, then it was just a happy coincidence. 

A smile tugs at his lips as he crawls on the mattress to lay with you. Even without touching you, the radiant warmth of your body embraces his skin and instantly relaxes him. 

When Shoyo was younger, he used to think he’d never be tied down. He was always flighty, always restless, always chasing the next big thing. 

But then he met you. 

You made settling down something worth doing. You taught him– among other things– the beauty of slowing down.

You are his home. 

He inches closer, longing for your affection. You hum in acknowledgement, eyes fixated on the screen, lost in whatever it was you were working on. His heart swells at the way you bite your lip in concentration.

He loves how hard you work, even when you don’t have to.

But that doesn’t mean he won’t fight to steal some of your time for himself. 

“I’m lonely.” Shoyo drawls, pressing his cheek against your blanket-clad thigh and looking up at you in adoration. Sighing dramatically, he sprawls further across you, chasing the high of your attention like a dog begging for a treat. “Come hang out with me before I die of boredom.” 

You laugh softly, and his ears perk up at the sound. 

Hesitantly, you discard yourself of your laptop and spread your arms. Nudging your head, your voice is laced with a fond amusement. 

“C’mere.” 

He obeys your call in an instant and collapses into your embrace. It’s not long before he’s peppering your face with kisses. One kiss to the forehead, another to the eyelids, and one on the lips for good measure. They’re fervent, each filled with more energy than the last in an effort to convey just how much he loves you. 

He’s been waiting for this all day. 

“You missed me that much?” You tease through soft gasps. 

Grinning, he nods. Shoyo knows you. He’s come to recognize that beneath all the layers of sardonic sarcasm, there’s a faint fondness you reserve only for him.

“Even when I’m with you, I’m thinking about how much I’ll miss you when you leave.” He confesses, inhaling your natural scent as he curls into you. 

As sappy as it is, it’s the truth, and Shoyo is always unapologetically himself. 

You tilt your head, amused, “So why don’t you just stay with me all the time?” 

“Really?” His breath catches, and the excitable child in him rears its head. Gripping you tighter, he looks up at you with something hopeful in his chest.

When you nod, he unravels, and his smile widens. It’s bright and boyish and full of love. 

 “Okay.” He beams. “Lets. Let’s be together– always.” 

It’s a foolish declaration. Shoyo is old enough to know that by now. But when you comb your fingers through his hair in the way that you currently are, it makes him want to believe in the impossible. 

“You’re such a dork.” You chuckle.

He grins at the playful jab. He doesn’t mind when you tease him. He loves everything you do. You fill him with such a unique fondness that sometimes, he wishes he could just carve his heart out and give it to you. Maybe then you’d see how stained it’s become with your essence. 

Shoyo doesn’t think you’ll ever be able to fully comprehend how much he loves you, or how much these little moments mean to him, but that’s okay.

For now, he’s fine with just showing you.  

Settling down, he closes his eyes and lets his heart slow, basking in the feeling of your gentle hands tracing him. In your reverent touch, his once weary body is long forgotten. You make him feel warm all over, and he swears that you have the ability to transport him into a metaphysical space that transcends the limits of flesh and bone. 

In the quiet still of the night, with his heart full of love and your hands full of him, Shoyo affirms that he truly does love to think about you.

But nothing compares to the feeling of being here, in your arms.

–a/n: um…hey…haha…im not self inserting…you are…

shoyo tag for @cherrysurf

[harrywavycurly]

Worth the Fight: Comes in Waves

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language, smut (unprotected sex, I mean you’re literally pregnant so yeah he didn’t wrap it up lol), per usual Harry is panicking.

A/N: I think this is some progress and I am excited to see how y’all feel about it! Also I’ve never written anything like this before so be gentle with me! Enjoy Harry being a complete mess✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cumuluscranium @donutsandpalmtrees @silastylesswift

Summary: You finally get your rocking chair, Harry is dealing with some odd feelings all while the two of you try to figure out the best way to tell the world you’re pregnant✨

Harry can hear the faint sound of music coming from under the bathroom door but he can’t tell what song it is or who’s singing because all he can focus on is how good the person’s neck he has his face nuzzled into smells and how good he feels. If he had to describe it he’d say it’s an intoxicating mixture of something fruity combined with just a hint of sweat that adds to the feeling of pure bliss that’s got him surrounded like he’s being engulfed in a warm blanket. His hands are roughly gripping their hips as their dress is hiked up, panties pushed to the side while his jeans and boxers are down by his ankles allowing him to have all the access he needs while they are sat on the edge of the counter next to the sink. A low moan comes from deep inside his chest when he feels nails digging into his back from under his shirt desperately trying to pull him closer.

“Fuck baby.” His voice is muffled as he barely lifts his lips away from the spot below their ear. “You feel so good.” He punctuates each word with a hard thrust as one of his hands slides down their hip to under their thigh so he can wrap their leg around his waist letting him get a little deeper, each thrust of his hips has the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside making them let out a loud moan.

“Oh god.” A breathy moan leaves their lips when Harry begins nipping at their neck as he keeps up the quick and rough pace of his thrusts. He can feel the velvety walls of their pussy begin to squeeze around his cock as his grip on their thigh tightens. “Don’t stop Harry please don’t stop.” Harry looks up and catches a glimpse of the person’s face in the mirror when they lean their head back and rest a hand on the counter behind them and then suddenly everything turns black.

Harry’s eyes snap open as he shoots up in his bed, his chest is rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. He looks down at his hands that are fisting his sheets, releasing his grip on the soft fabric he runs a hand through his hair finding it a little damp no doubt from sweat. His mind is spinning trying to catch up with him and realize he’s awake as he looks around his dark bedroom his eyes squinting at the clock on his nightstand. A groan leaves his lips as his head falls back down onto his pillow when he sees it’s just a little after four in the morning.

“What the fuck.” He mutters to himself as he places both hands on his face as he tries to come to terms with the fact he just woke up in the middle of a very hot and heavy dream. A hot and heavy dream that he swears felt more like just reliving a memory than an actual dream, but more importantly this dream was about you, the mother of his children that he’s due to see in a little less than five hours.

“This is not good.” He mumbles as he tosses the sheets over himself after a few minutes of staring at the ceiling. Coming to the conclusion sleep isn’t coming back to him tonight he rolls out of bed and slowly walks to his bathroom, refusing to look at himself in the mirror when he flicks on the lights he walks over to the shower. “Why’d it have to be today? Of all days?” He groans as he turns the water on, leaving it on cold in hopes the chill of the water will help clear his mind. He’s willing to try anything that will have him be able to go about his day with you with minimal issues because at the moment the thought of being around you does nothing but make his skin feel hot and his heart to race as images of you in not the most appropriate positions fill his mind.

“For fuck sake Harry get it together.” He scolds himself as he undresses and steps into the shower and closes his eyes as he turns his face up towards the water, with each drop that falls on him and runs down his body he’s imagining it’s washing away all the filthy thoughts and images of you and sending them down the drain by his feet. But something inside him knows that’s not the case, he’s not that lucky when it comes to you but it can’t hurt for him to at least try be a little optimistic.

All of Harry’s early morning hopes of being optimistic about not letting his dream affect the rest of his day have officially gone out the window as he stands in your kitchen. He swears he’s not trying to be weird and he really is doing his best to focus on what you’re telling him but it’s as if his mind at the moment can only seem to make everything you say or do snap him back to the dream he just woke up from not even six hours ago.

He doesn’t know why the simple mention of you wanting pineapple in your morning juice has his eyes closing for a split second as the vision of his lips trailing opened mouth kisses down the side of your neck spills into his brain like a flash flood. It’s as if he can still smell the faint scent of your skin as soon as he cuts into the fruit causing its sweet and tangy fragrance to hit his nose. He opens his eyes when he realizes that’s the same fruity smell he couldn’t place, pineapples but there’s also something mixed within it but luckily he knows exactly what it is.

“Cherries.” He whispers to himself as he looks down at the cutting board and goes back to slicing the rest of the fruit so he can add it to the blender. He doesn’t know why you smelled like a mixture of pineapples and cherries but then again he still isn’t sure if his dream is just a dream or a memory that’s slowly starting to reveal itself to him.

“I don’t have cherries.” Your voice snaps Harry fully out of his thoughts as he turns his head to see you staring at him with a quirked brow and your hands on your hips. “Are you okay? You look a little-”

“I’m fine-totally fine.” He knows his cheeks are pink and his eyes are probably a bit darker due to the images and thoughts swirling around his head but he hopes you don’t look too far into it and just brush the whole moment off as him just having an odd morning.

“Do-do you like cherries? I can get some from the store next time I do a grocery run.” He quickly adds while putting his focus back on the fruit in front of him hoping your pregnancy brain will help you switch from worrying about if he’s okay to thinking about fruits and vegetables for your juices next week.

“I don’t really know if I like cherries.” This answer has Harry rubbing his lips together as he nods while you run a hand over your growing bump. “Honestly I’ve only ever had them in cocktails. My go to pre pregnancy was vodka with pineapple and they always toss in cherries with it I’m not sure why.” The knife nearly drops from his hand as you casually confirm that you do in fact drink cocktails with cherries and pineapple making his dream have a more memory feel to it than just a normal sex dream he’d have about someone he finds attractive.

“I’ll pick some up for you to try.”

“Okay.” You say with a shrug before turning and heading into the living room, Harry lets out a deep sigh of relief that for the moment you seem to have let his odd behavior go. For the rest of the time he’s in the kitchen Harry doesn’t let his mind wander off into the deep end, he stays focused on the task at hand because he knows the two of you have a busy day ahead so he needs to be mentally present and not off daydreaming about how good you felt wrapped around him while sitting on a bathroom counter.

“Here you go.” You give him a big grin as he hands you a glass of juice he just made, he even went ahead and put it in your favorite glass that has little books all over it with a lid and glass straw that one of your coworkers gave you for your birthday last year.

“Oh god that’s good.” Your words have Harry’s hands sweating as he watches you close your eyes and tilt your head back so it’s resting on the back of your couch. He swallows thickly as he practically falls into the loveseat across from you as his mind takes a nose dive straight into the deep end of the endless pool of thoughts swishing around in his head.

“Right there.” Your voice is rough as Harry gives you a particularly harsh thrust while his hand that’s not holding your leg over his hip slips down between your open thighs. “Oh god-fuck that’s so good.” You pant as Harry’s thumb beings rubbing circles over your clit, adding just the right amount of pressure to have your eyes squeezing shut in pleasure.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Harry shakes his head as if his mind is some sort of etch-a-sketch and the faster he shakes it the quicker the images that have momentarily taken over his thoughts will disappear.

It’s when he looks at you and sees the concern etched on your face that he becomes very aware of how he looks. His hands are gripping the armrests of the loveseat so tightly his knuckles are white, his cheeks feel hot and he’s sure if he checked he would have a slight sheen on his forehead as if he’s about to break out into a full body sweat due to the way his whole body feels as if it’s on fire. So he clears his throat and says the only thing he can think of on the spot.

“Yeah I just-uh too much caffeine this morning my mind s’a bit all over the place and uhm it’s giving me-me uh a hot flash of sorts.” He pinches the fabric of his shirt right below the collar and makes a show of trying to cool himself down by tugging it up and down a few times.

“How much caffeine did you have because you’re all flushed.” You lean over to place your glass down on the coffee table before standing up so you can step around the table so you’re now standing next to an armrest of the loveseat. Harry feels his heart rate rise as you place a steady hand on top of the armrest so you can lean over and run a hand through his hair. “Did you shower right before coming over? Why is your hair damp?” He wants to answer your question, truly he does but all Harry can think about is how good your hand feels as it runs through his hair.

“N-no I didn’t shower right before-”

“Oh gross it’s wet from sweat? Harry that’s not normal are you sure you’re not sick or something you look-and I’m sorry for how rude this sounds but you look like shit.” He lets out a pathetic sounding noise that you either didn’t hear or are choosing to ignore when you quickly snatch your hand out of his hair and wipe your palm off on your bike shorts.

“M’fine really.” He stands up making you take a step backwards but the look on your face tells him you don’t believe him, but thankfully you just send him a pointed glare before turning so you can head down the hallway.

“You’re very far from fine but whatever just don’t get sick on my couch because then I’ll have to burn it and I really love my couch.” You tell him as you walk down the hallway to grab your computer from your bedroom.

Harry takes the few minutes he has alone to run a hand over his face before he closes his eyes lets out a few deep calming breaths. “I will not have anymore inappropriate thoughts about the mother of my children. I will remain calm cool and collected the rest of the day.” He thinks to himself, repeating it over and over again like a mantra. It’s not until he hears the sound of ice clanking the sides of your metal water bottle that he opens his eyes and takes a seat on the couch.

“What’s this guy’s name again that we are meeting with?” You ask as you take a seat next to him after placing your laptop on the coffee table.

“His name is Jeff he’s my manager but also a good friend of mine. I’ve known him since back in the One Direction days.”

“Okay and he’s going to help us determine when to post the baby announcements? That’s what this meeting is about right?”

“Uh yeah and he’s just going to give us some ideas on what to expect after the announcements are made public and uhm just-stuff like that.” You just nod as you turn on your laptop so you can log into Zoom, Harry chews on his bottom lip as he tries not to let his eyes focus on any part of you for too long because he knows that will only cause issues and he really needs to be alert for this meeting. But when his eyes land on your fingers as they move around the keyboard just simply typing in your information he knows he’s royally screwed because all his mind will let him think about are how those same fingers felt running through his hair.

“Ready?” Harry can only nod as he prepares to have to white knuckle his thoughts during this meeting since just a simple glance at your fingers has his mind reeling.

“So you’re saying you think he should tag me in the post?” Harry looks away from the screen and towards you as you raise an eyebrow at Jeff who in turn just nods his head before turning his attention from Harry over to you.

“I think it’s smarter to just get it out of the way because people will figure out who you are eventually even if he doesn’t tag you so this way we have a little more control over the situation. But what do you think Harry? Are you comfortable with that?” He can feel your eyes on him the moment he turns to look back at Jeff, he rubs his lips together as he messes with the ring on his index finger.

“I uhm-yeah I’m fine with that.” He answers while nodding his head. “Besides your profile is private already so that helps.”

“It helps to a degree but you’re still going to get bombarded on all socials so just be prepared for that.” Harry absentmindedly nods in agreement and if he’s being honest he hasn’t ever wanted a meeting to be over with so badly in his life like he does this one.

He’s been struggling to maintain control of his thoughts since the moment he chanced a small glance in your direction at the beginning of the zoom call just to see you chewing on your bottom lip. What nearly sent him over the edge was when you swiped your tongue over them to get them wet before speaking, it’s like you did it on purpose making sure to do it torturously slow making him have to clear his throat and get up to grab a glass of water before his mind got the better of him.

“I think I can handle that. I only have an Instagram but do you think-I mean I won’t need like a body guard or anything right?”

“That’s up to you. We can see how it goes once it’s out there and if you feel like you need one we can set that up but you’ll be getting a driver that was something Harry mentioned wanting-I think starting next week after the announcement.”

“You want me to have a driver?” It takes Harry a moment to realize you’re speaking to him, it’s not until you place a hand on his arm that he zones back in on what’s happening and what the three of you are discussing.

“A driver? Oh uh yeah I-I was gonna let you use Nick since you’re familiar with him.”

“Nick is your driver.”

“Well now he’s yours.” Harry says with a smile that he knows Jeff can tell is forced as his eyes go from looking at you back to staring at Harry.

“So do-do you have anymore questions?” Jeff asks in a quick save for Harry because it makes you turn your attention away from him and towards the screen of your laptop.

“Not right now. So on Monday we both just post the same photo with similar captions and that’s it?”

“Yeah pretty much. Pick whatever photo the two of you agree on and the rest we will deal with as needed.” Harry nods his head as he half pay attention to the words coming out of his manager’s mouth. You nervously begin to spin the silver band on your thumb finger around as you take in all the information Jeff has dropped on you over the last half hour.

“Okay well thank you. It was nice to meet you Jeff.”

“No problem. You’ll be taken care of okay? We won’t let this get too crazy and it was nice meeting you as well. Hopefully we can meet for lunch or something soon.”

“Yeah sounds good. Talk to you soon Jeffrey.” Harry says with a smile while Jeff sends him a look that tells Harry he’s going to be getting a call from him later. But with a few waves and another round of goodbyes you’re leaning over and closing the zoom application and shutting your laptop.

“That was a lot.” You say in a huff that makes Harry feel like he is being tossed right back into the deep end of his mind that’s a swirling whirlpool of bits and pieces of what he has now come to realize is a memory his mind is trying to put together like a puzzle.

“That was-that was a lot.” He pants as he rests his head on your shoulder and tries to catch his breath. You let out a satisfied huff as you lean your head back so it’s resting on the mirror, your eyes are closed but you still have a hand in Harry’s hair and one fisting the front of his shirt.

“Told you I could handle it.” Your breathy laugh mixed with your nails lightly scratching at his scalp as you run your hand through his hair has Harry letting out a groan as his grip on your hips tighten.

“I only doubted you for a second.” He teases between kisses to the top of your shoulder making a stream of giggles escape you as your hand loosens its grip on the fabric of his shirt.

When Harry feels your hand on his leg he jolts back to the moment and he knows he has to tell you what’s going on because he can tell by the way your brows furrow and the corners of your mouth turn down a bit as you look at him that you’re concerned for him. He doesn’t want to keep making you feel worried about him when in reality all he is doing is having dirty dreams and now daydreams about you, the only mildly concerning thing about them being the timing. He just doesn’t know when would be the appropriate time to tell you this so he just places a hand on top of yours that’s on his leg and gives it a soft squeeze, his silent way of trying to let you know everything is going to be fine.

It’s as if the universe is trying to really teach Harry a lesson today, what the lesson is he has no clue but there’s no rational reason why hearing you laugh and let out a tiny squeal of excitement over your new rocking chair being delivered should have his pulse quickening and his heart rate rising. But that’s what’s currently happening as he stands in the doorway of the nursery and watches you walk over to the green and white striped chair, a smile on your face as you ease yourself down onto the soft cushions. He crosses his arms over his chest as a smile slowly stretches across his face as you close your eyes and begin to gently rock yourself in the chair.

“Oh this is perfect.” Your voice is soft and low as you open your eyes and give Harry a nod of approval since he’s the one who ended up picking the chair out for you from an online store his sister recommended after he learned that a used one just wouldn’t do. “I know just what it needs.” Harry quirks a brow as he watches you get up and walk over to Nora’s crib, the one closest to the door.

Your back is facing him as you lean down into the crib to grab something and the view of you bent over has his head spinning and his hands curling into fists as they fall to his sides. But this time before he can allow himself to indulge in even a second of another glimpse of the memory his mind so desperately is trying to put together he blurts something out that has you momentarily freezing in your spot bent over the crib.

“I remember the night we met.” His words are rushed and his voice is a little louder than necessary but he just needed to get it off his chest. “Or I uhm remember-parts of the night we met.” He explains not wanting you to think all of a sudden he can remember everything that happened between the two of you because he only can remember a very certain part of the night.

“Parts? What parts do you remember?” He swallows down the nerves he feels wanting to take over as you stand up so you can turn around to face him, the pink stuffed bunny from his mother clutched to your chest.

“The uhm-uhm bath-bathroom.” His face is on fire as he admits the only part of the night he can sort of remember.

“Oh my god.” The hand that’s not holding the stuffed bunny comes up to cover your face as a few chuckles erupt from your chest. “Of course you remember the bathroom.” Harry doesn’t understand if you’re mad or not so he just looks down at your feet as you run your hand through your hair. “Is that why you’ve been so weird today?”

“Uhm well-yeah yes that’s why I’ve been a little off today.”

“Off? Harry you’ve been acting like you’re on the verge of spontaneously combusting all day.”

“I’m sorry I just-I had a uhm.” He can’t believe he’s about to admit this to you but it’s the truth and you deserve to hear it. “A dream about it last night and then I realized it wasn’t really a dream it was more like I was reliving a memory.” You want to laugh at how absurd it is that of all the things that took place that night his mind opted to have him remember their romp in the bathroom, but you can tell by the way he’s avoiding looking at you that he’s a little embarrassed about it.

“Well if you remember that maybe the rest of the night will show up in your dreams eventually too.” Your words are somehow exactly what Harry needed to hear making relief wash over him like an ocean wave, you give him a reassuring smile when he slowly lifts his head until his eyes meet yours. “Can I ask you something?”

“Uh sure. Yeah. You can ask me anything.”

“Which part had you sweating and white knuckling the armrest of my love seat earlier?” Harry rolls his eyes while shaking his head as his cheeks turn red at your teasing question. You try to hold back your laughter but it’s useless making Harry let out a dramatic huff as he turns to walk out of the nursery.

“I’m just gonna leave you to enjoy your new rocking chair. Call me if you need anything and uh-I’ll see you Sunday.” He pauses in the doorway when he sees you take a few steps towards him so you can reach out and place your free hand on his forearm.

“Thank you for the chair Harry I really do love it.” With that he just gives you a smile as you drop your hand from his arm. He takes a few steps into the hallway, running both hands through his hair as he finally feels like he’s not hiding anything from you.

Well he is still hiding one thing from you, the fact he has a massive crush on you. As he walks to your front door he thinks calling the feelings he has for you a crush doesn’t do them justice, it feels deeper now that he can remember having you in the most intimate way but that’s something he knows can wait to be discussed when he’s not trying to fight off his dirty thoughts about you left and right. That’s something that deserves to be talked about over dinner or even during an episode of The Voice that you now force him to watch all while he tries to not act like he’s jealous every time you swoon over Niall, but either way it can wait a few more days until he can get a firmer grip on how he feels about you and also is more prepared for the off chance you to tell him you don’t feel the same.

[prettycottonmouthlamia]

Before I end up making that post I want to talk about briefly with the release of IS5 again, the concept of each IS havin a fundamental theme of unreality to them. I really like this, because it feels like in a pretty unsubtle way a solid way to ground the structure of a roguelike setting into what is normally a pretty grounded storyline.

IS1, Ceobe's Fungimist (please Hypergryph let it return), is a hallucination caused be Ceobe eating weird forest mushrooms. Nothing that happens in IS1 is real, explicitly. However, IS1 is fundamentally drawing from something, and in Ceobe's case, it seems to be drawing from her memories of traveling abroad Terra looking for the origins of her axe (and food, of course). What are things Ceobe's remembers happening to her, what are hallucinations filing in the gaps, and what are Ceobe catching glimpses of fundamental truths of the world (the Black Procession and the Feranmut skeleton that is Maybe? Lifebone for instance) is left extremely vague. Characters such as the Frozen Monstrosity do seem to genuinely exist, but there was no Frozen Monstrosity in Lungmen. Was Ceobe using something she herself experienced in place of Frostnova, or is Ceobe hallucinating the entire thing regardless? Who knows. Ceobe probably doesn't have the answers for you.

IS2 has explicit themes of madness and deception, and although I do not find him a particularly compelling character or plot device, a playwright who can literally warp reality with his plays. Much of the stage design recycles echoes the stage design from IS1, almost as if the Troupe is welcoming you, the player, onto their stage. You aren't here to discern the truth behind the Troupe, you're here to save one man, and while you are able to peel back the curtains somewhat, you never really do learn what the Troupe is. There are puppets who come to life and whose music damages your souls, there are actors driven so fully into their roles that they end up traveling to Sami to carry out their destined end, there's a Troupe Leader whose defining imagery is puppets and strings, and yet, you're no closer to finding out how this all happened than you are trying to explain why the Knights' Duel node exists.

IS3 asks the question "What if time is like evolution?" and presents its unreality in the form of a sprawling, massive bundle of alternative timelines to your own. It feels almost impossible to line up most of the events and memory mappings and endings on top of each other, and even the endings seemingly branch off into several versions of themselves. While, for example, the Irene encounter maps onto her own memory mapping story, we never see the timeline involving Lumen's memory mapping in the game at all. There is no Seaborn version of Gladiia in-game for you to fight. This is made seemingly all the more uncanny by the fact that there is actually a canon timeline going on, and the implication through the Bosky event that you are only seeing these alternative timelines because curiosity got the better of you. You came into contact with technology alien and yet familiar, and as a result, your good little timeline where you just save a girl who tries to commit identity death turns into you having to watch from the third person a version of the world where you and Mizuki are potentially the only intelligent life left on Terra for all eternity.

(No seriously, this ending is fucked up, what the fuck.)

IS4, on the other hand, gives us a reality that is unraveling, so fragile and malleable that you can cause things to manifest out of sheer force of will, something there are explicit warnings about not doing. It's a land where the living become the shambling, almost mechanical dead, and the mechanical being living creatures. It's a world where the abyss looks back at you, and finds you to be worth destroying. Gravity isn't right, time isn't right, language isn't right, snow falls black and the dead rise once again to beckon you home. There's nightmares in the shadows, and they're eating away at everything.

Sorry shit I got dark there. IS5 is Nymph's happy little storytime where she explores future and alternative versions of Kazdel through the imagination of her and her compatriots. What if Theresis and Theresa worked together and Nasti completed her designs (and maybe committed a genocide????) and Kazdel was a flying utopia city? What if the Teekaz all walked in a different direction and became the Sankta, or all became the Anasa? You know, sometimes you lose your sense of reality and become dependent on the visions you see from the Revenants, sometimes you need a little bunny to pull you out, and sometimes those Revenants might have actually caused a new reality to exist but haha, don't worry about that.

What if, hahaha, just saying what if, there was a version of Amiya in a world where the Sarkaz barely exist, where she was given the crown by a dying Theresa with no guidance on how to use it ethically? Haha I mean, what if Kal'tsit wasn't around? What if, just theoretically, there was a version of Amiya for whom the most formative person in her life was the decaying mind of a man stuck as an AI program who kept his people alive for 10,000 years? What if, hehehehe you know, what if, there were special endings you got for each of the stories you told where you went onto fight her, showing up closing up those stories, those worlds, to eternally protect them until she can find the answer to all troubles? What if the Sarkaz prophecy from Chapter 7 kept coming up, over and over again, the prophecy of an Amiya who would melt millions of lives into memories over and over again? What if this was an Amiya so immediately dangerous that the Sankta version of Buldrokkas'tee doesn't hesitate in trying to kill her?

I mean that would be a really scary story if it was true. Really it's Nymph's special storytime with the revenants. Don't worry about it.

Anyways I love pretty much each of these takes (IS2 is definitely the weakest though) and it shows a lot of thought from the storywriters about how they wanted to integrate a roguelike mode into their game.

[lila-lou]

✨Age gap crush - Pt. 1/2✨

Summary: Jensen froze—biggest age gap crush? Jared smirked, already knowing the answer. Because Jensen didn’t do attachments. But with you? He already had.

-requested-

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language

Word Count: 6341

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

The hotel room was quiet, except for the faint hum of traffic outside and the soft rustling of sheets behind you. Stepping out of the bathroom, steam curled around you as the cooler air of the room brushed against your damp skin. The towel wrapped tightly around your body felt like the only barrier between you and the weight of his gaze.

Jensen was lying on the bed, one arm tucked lazily behind his head, the other resting against his bare stomach. The soft morning light cast shadows over his toned chest, highlighting the ridges of muscle beneath his skin. His green eyes, sharp and amused, traced you slowly—like he had all the time in the world.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, good morning to me”, he murmured, voice thick with sleep and something else—something that sent a shiver down your spine.

You tightened your grip on the towel, swallowing the warmth creeping up your neck. “Enjoying the view?”, you muttered, trying to sound unaffected.

He chuckled, low and husky, shifting slightly but never breaking his gaze. “Oh, absolutely. Best way to wake up”.

Your stomach twisted at the way he was looking at you—like he knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how flustered you were.

You cleared your throat, the towel still clutched tightly in your grasp. "I thought you'd be gone by now", you muttered, eyes flicking toward the digital clock on the nightstand—but the numbers blurred together. You had no idea what time it was.

Jensen’s smirk deepened. "Didn’t have the heart to leave you just yet", he drawled, stretching out like he had no place to be, no convention to rush off to. "Besides, you looked too damn peaceful earlier. Didn’t want to wake you".

You scoffed, rolling your eyes to mask the way your stomach flipped. Peaceful wasn’t the right word. Wrecked, maybe. Spent.

Last night had been… intense. The kind of night that left your body sore in the best possible way, your mind hazy, your legs barely functioning by the time he'd finally let you rest. And now, standing here, the memory of his hands, his mouth, his body pressed against yours—it all came rushing back so vividly you had to fight the urge to squeeze your thighs together.

Jensen noticed. Of course, he did. His eyes darkened, amusement flickering beneath them like he was reading every damn thought in your head. "You okay there, sweetheart?". His voice was smooth, teasing.

You huffed, turning toward the dresser for something—anything—to distract yourself. "I don’t even know what time it is", you admitted, your voice quieter this time. "You really should be gone. The convention—".

"Still got time". His voice was lazy, like he didn’t have an entire schedule waiting for him. "And you really think I’d leave without a proper goodbye?".

This—whatever this was—wasn’t supposed to feel so dangerous. The two of you had set the rules from the start. No public outings. No red carpets. No standing in any kind of spotlight.

After all, he had enough attention on him—especially after the divorce. He didn’t need the world picking apart his personal life, and neither did you. It worked this way. Just the two of you, in stolen nights like this.

But mornings like this? Where he stayed longer than he should, watching you like you were the only thing worth his time?

Those were the moments that scared you.

And when Jensen sat up, his bare chest shifting with the movement, his smirk softening into something almost… fond, you knew you were in trouble.

"C´mere", he murmured, patting the space beside him.

You swallowed hard. You should tell him to get dressed, to go. To remind him of the agreement.

But your body had other plans.

And Jensen knew it, too.

You hesitated as you reminded yourself what this was supposed to be. Casual. Private. Simple.

But Jensen made it impossible to keep things simple.

The way he looked at you—like he had all the patience in the world, like he knew you’d give in before you even did—was downright dangerous. You hated that he was right.

Slowly, reluctantly, you moved toward the bed, stopping just short of where he was sitting. His gaze flickered down to your legs, still damp from the shower, before dragging back up to meet your eyes. He reached out, fingers ghosting along the edge of your towel, not tugging—just there—a silent invitation.

"You’re thinking too much", he murmured, voice low, rough from sleep.

You let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking your head. "Maybe because I should be thinking", you shot back, but you didn’t step away.

Jensen’s smirk returned, but there was something softer beneath it. Something more dangerous than the teasing. "Tell me you don’t want me here", he challenged, his hand resting on your hip now, warm and steady. "And I’ll go".

You parted your lips, inhaling as if you were actually about to say the words. You knew he’d keep his word. He always did.

But you didn’t want him to go.

You wanted this—the way his presence wrapped around you, the way his voice sent shivers down your spine, the way his hands on your body made everything else disappear.

That’s what scared you the most.

Jensen tilted his head, waiting. Not pushing, not rushing. Just waiting for you to be honest with yourself.

And you hated that you broke so easily.

Instead of answering, you exhaled shakily and let your knee press onto the mattress beside him, crawling up just enough for him to lean back slightly, welcoming you. His hands slid up your thighs, warm and familiar, but his eyes never left yours.

"That’s what I thought", he murmured, pulling you onto his lap, your towel slipping just enough for his fingers to dip beneath it.

Your stomach clenched. "You’re an ass", you muttered, but there was no bite to it.

Jensen chuckled, his lips grazing your jaw as his grip tightened, anchoring you to him. "Yeah, but you like me anyway".

And you hated that he was right about that, too.

Your breath hitched the moment you felt it—him—hot and hard beneath you, pressed insistently against the thin barrier of your towel. A sharp contrast to the teasing smirk still tugging at his lips, like he wasn’t fully acknowledging just how much you could feel him right now.

But he knew. Of course, he knew.

Your hands instinctively gripped his shoulders, fingers pressing into the warm, firm muscle beneath your palms. He was still naked, still radiating heat, and the moment your hips shifted—just the slightest bit—the friction sent a sharp pulse of heat straight through you.

Jensen groaned softly, low in his throat, his hands tightening around your thighs. "Shit", he muttered, voice raspier now, thick with something that wasn’t just amusement anymore.

You swallowed hard, pulse thrumming against your skin. "You should be getting ready", you murmured, though your voice lacked conviction, breathless as it was.

Jensen hummed, tilting his head, his lips brushing your jaw, his stubble rough against your sensitive skin. "Mmm. Could say the same for you", he countered, his fingers toying with the edge of your towel. "But here you are. On top of me".

Your stomach flipped, your thighs squeezing instinctively around his waist. He was right there, and your body knew it, heat pooling low in your belly, thighs already aching from the way last night had left you.

His hands slid up, tracing the curves of your waist beneath the towel, moving slow, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. "Y’know", he murmured against your skin, voice dropping lower, rougher, "if you’re really worried about me being late, maybe you shouldn’t be sitting on my dick right now".

A sharp exhale left you, your fingers flexing against his shoulders. "Jensen—".

"What?". His lips ghosted over your neck, fingers finally gripping your hips properly now, rolling you against him just enough to make your breath catch. His cock pressed right where you needed it, even through the towel, and suddenly, your brain short-circuited.

You weren’t sure who moved first—if it was him guiding you, or your own body betraying you—but the moment your hips rocked, the friction made your nerves spark, made heat flood your core.

Jensen groaned again, this time deeper, almost gritted, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin. "Yeah", he muttered, breath warm against your ear. "Exactly".

You hated how easily he ruined you. Hated how you didn’t stop, how you didn’t want to stop.

"Fuck you", you breathed, but you were already rolling your hips again, chasing that slow, delicious friction, the warmth pooling between your legs unbearable now.

Jensen laughed, the sound vibrating against your throat. "You already did, sweetheart", he teased, nipping just below your jaw. "And by the way you’re moving? You’re about to do it again".

With a sharp tug, the towel was gone, slipping from your body and pooling somewhere on the sheets beneath you. A rush of cool air ghosted over your skin, but it did nothing to quell the heat burning between your thighs.

Jensen's hands were everywhere—firm, claiming—gripping your waist, sliding down the curve of your back, fingers pressing into your hips like he was anchoring himself. His green eyes darkened as he took you in, his gaze flickering from your lips to the bare expanse of your chest, down to where your bodies were about to connect.

“Fuck baby”, he muttered, his voice thick with something between admiration and desperation. “You’re gonna kill me”.

One hand slid between your bodies, guiding himself to where you were already dripping, already throbbing for him. The swollen head of his cock nudged against your entrance, teasing, pressing, the sensation enough to steal your breath.

Jensen sucked in a sharp inhale. "Fuck—you're still so sensitiv from last night", he groaned, his voice strained now, his fingers tightening their grip on your waist.

Your stomach clenched at his words, your thighs trembling around him. "Maybe if you hadn’t—". You gasped as he pushed in just a little, stretching you open with maddening slowness. "Hadn’t wrecked me so hard, I wouldn't be".

Jensen let out a low, breathy chuckle, but his control was thinning—you could see it in the way his jaw tensed, feel it in the way his fingers flexed against your hips. "Oh, sweetheart", he murmured, his other hand sliding up your side, palming your breast before his fingers curled around the back of your neck, tugging you down. "That was barely me wrecking you".

And with that—he pulled you down onto him, fully, completely, stretching you inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt inside you.

A ragged gasp left your lips, your body clenching around him, adjusting to the sudden, overwhelming fullness.

"Ouw—", you choked out, nails digging into his shoulders.

Jensen groaned, his head falling back against the pillows for a moment, his fingers gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “Fuck, baby. Look at you”. His voice was wrecked, strained with restraint, with the effort it took for him to not move just yet.

Your breath shuddered, your body trembling at the way he filled you, at how perfectly he stretched you. Every inch of him throbbed inside you, heat coiling at the base of your spine, your thighs quivering where they straddled his hips.

"Jensen", you breathed, barely able to form words, your nails dragging down his chest.

That was all it took.

His fingers flexed against your waist, and then he moved.

A slow, deliberate roll of his hips that sent blinding pleasure spiraling through your core.

You whimpered, your hands flying to his chest for support, but he didn’t stop, didn’t give you a chance to catch your breath. He lifted you just enough before pulling you back down, forcing you to take every inch of him, again and again, harder, deeper, until the only thing spilling from your lips were broken, gasping moans.

"Fuck, that’s it", he gritted out, watching the way your body took him, the way your back arched, your mouth parted in pleasure. His grip on your waist tightened as his hips snapped up, meeting you with every downward roll, sending sharp jolts of electricity through your veins.

"You feel so good", he growled, his voice raw, his fingers possessive as they dug into your skin. "So fucking tight. Like you were made for me".

Your head tipped back, pleasure burning through you, your body already starting to tremble. The grinding, the pace, the deep, deep thrusts—it was too much, and not enough all at once.

"Jensen—". His name spilled from your lips like a plea.

He grinned, though it was more of a snarl, his control slipping. "That’s right, sweetheart. Say my name while I ruin you again".

And he did.

Jensen's grip tightened as he slammed up into you, pulling you down to meet each thrust, forcing you to take him deeper, harder, rougher. The stretch was overwhelming, the pleasure devastating, your body reduced to nothing but fire and sensation as he filled you over and over again.

Your fingers clawed at his chest, nails dragging against the firm ridges of muscle, desperate for something—anything—to ground you. But there was nothing to hold onto. Nothing but him.

"Jensen". His name left your lips in a gasping, broken moan, your head tipping back as your body clenched around him.

He groaned, the sound wrecked, his hands sliding from your waist to your thighs, lifting you slightly before slamming you back down onto his cock. "Fuck—just like that", he muttered, his breath coming ragged now, but his pace never slowed. If anything, he was getting rougher.

Pleasure shot up your spine, white-hot and blinding, your nerves on the edge of snapping. Every thrust hit deep, hitting that spot that had your toes curling, your stomach clenching, the coil inside you winding impossibly tight.

Jensen noticed. Of course, he did.

"Shit, you’re close already", he rasped, voice thick with pride, with something dangerously close to obsession as he watched you, completely undone on top of him.

You whimpered in response, your nails digging into his skin, your thighs starting to tremble.

He smirked—dark, satisfied, in control—as he sat up suddenly, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other gripping your jaw. His lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moans as he thrust up, sharp and precise, stealing the last bit of composure you had left.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?", he murmured against your mouth, his breath hot, teasing. His hand slid down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had you shattering within seconds.

The orgasm slammed into you with a force that left you breathless, your body tensing, then shaking apart, pleasure pulsing through every nerve ending. A strangled cry tore from your throat as you clenched around him, waves of heat rolling through you as he kept fucking you through it, dragging it out, making you feel every second of it.

"That’s it", Jensen groaned, voice gritted, strained, his hands bruising as he held you still, as he thrust up one last time, burying himself deep. A guttural sound tore from his throat as he spilled inside you, his whole body tensing beneath you, pleasure rolling through him in hot, shuddering waves.

For a moment, the world spun, the only thing grounding you was him, his grip on you, his breath ragged against your skin.

Silence settled between you, thick and heavy, the aftermath still buzzing in the air. Jensen didn’t move, still buried inside you, his arms still wrapped around your body like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t either.

But the moment couldn’t last.

He sighed against your neck, pressing the faintest kiss to your damp skin before finally leaning back, his hands gentler now, smoothing over your sides. "If I wasn’t late before", he muttered, voice still rough with exhaustion and satisfaction, "I definitely am now".

A weak laugh escaped you, your forehead dropping to his shoulder. "That’s your fault", you murmured, your body still tingling from the aftershocks.

Jensen chuckled, but instead of answering, he slid his hands up your back, slow, lazy, his fingers tracing soft patterns against your skin.

And that? That was what scared you the most.

Not the sex. Not the sneaking around.

But this—the way he lingered, the way he touched you even when he didn’t have to. The way he stayed.

Because deep down, you knew…

You were breaking all your own rules.

The loud pounding at the door jolted you from the haze of aftershocks and warmth, panic surging through your system.

“Ackles!”, Jared’s voice boomed through the room, followed by another aggressive set of knocks. “We’re fucking late! Get your ass out here!”.

Your entire body stiffened, still perched on top of Jensen, still connected, your thighs sticky, your skin hot from the lingering heat of what had just happened.

Jensen groaned dramatically, his head falling back against the pillow, one lazy hand brushing over his face. “Fuck, Jared”, he muttered, completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just fucked you into oblivion and left you a trembling mess.

Your eyes widened, panic gripping your chest. “Oh my God—”. You scrambled, instinct taking over, hands bracing against Jensen’s chest as you tried to get off him, but his grip tightened.

“Not so fast, sweetheart”. His voice was low, smug, his fingers digging into your waist just enough to make you shiver.

Your heart slammed in your chest. “Jensen—he’s right there!”, you hissed, eyes flicking frantically to the door as Jared knocked again, harder.

“Jensen! If you don’t open this damn door in ten seconds, I’m coming in! I will use my keycard, asshole!”.

Jensen just smirked, his other hand trailing down your thigh, so slow, so possessive, like he wasn’t at all worried about getting caught.

“Let him”, he muttered, his voice gravelly, his hips rolling up just a fraction, making you gasp, clench around him involuntarily.

Your stomach flipped, a sharp pulse of pleasure shooting through you even as your mind screamed in panic.

“You’re insane”, you whispered sharply, shoving at his bare chest, your pulse racing, the heat of him still inside you, still filling you so perfectly.

Jensen laughed, low and smug, but he finally released you, letting you scramble off him just as another aggressive knock rattled the door.

You stumbled, nearly falling, your legs still weak, your thighs still aching from the way he’d ruined you minutes ago. You barely managed to grab your discarded towel, wrapping it around yourself in record time as you bolted toward the bathroom doorway, trying to make yourself invisible.

Jensen, meanwhile?

Completely unbothered.

He stretched slowly, rolling out of bed with a lazy ease that made it clear he wasn’t in any kind of hurry.

Another pounding knock.

“Jensen!”.

Jensen rolled his eyes, dragging a hand down his face, clearly in no rush to deal with the six-foot-four nuisance on the other side of the door.

Little did you know, Jensen had already told Jared about you a couple of days ago. He’d expected this moment, knew it was only a matter of time before you got caught sneaking around.

But seeing you panic like this?

Adorable.

So, he let you squirm.

He smirked to himself as he tugged his shirt over his head, deliberately taking his time, knowing full well that you were still pressed against the bathroom door, heartbeat racing, eyes wide with the kind of panic he found way too entertaining.

Another pounding knock.

"Jensen! Open the damn door, or I’m—".

Finally, finally, Jensen swung it open, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the frame, giving Jared a bored look.

"Jesus, Padalecki", he muttered. "Ever heard of patience?".

Jared’s eyes narrowed, already looking pissed as hell, his gaze flicking over Jensen’s still-rumpled appearance—messy hair, swollen lips, trunks thrown on in a half-assed attempt to look presentable.

Jared’s brows lifted.

"Oh", he muttered, crossing his arms. "You definitely weren’t sleeping".

Jensen just grinned. "Didn’t say I was".

Jared squinted, eyes flicking past him into the room. Jensen angled his body slightly, blocking just enough of the view to keep you hidden, even though—let’s be real, the entire scene was screaming of exactly what had happened.

The unmade bed. The disheveled sheets. The fucking smell.

Jared let out a long, slow sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Dude".

Jensen smirked, playing dumb. "What?".

Jared’s lips twitched, like he wanted to laugh but was too annoyed to let himself. "You serious right now?".

Jensen shrugged. "Look, man, if you’re mad I didn’t invite you, just say so".

Jared grimaced, shoving his shoulder. "Oh, fuck off".

Jensen chuckled, but before Jared could barrel past him into the room, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough.

"Don’t be a dick", he murmured. "You already know who’s in there".

Jared stilled.

His brows shot up, just slightly, before his expression shifted—less annoyed, more intrigued.

"Oh, so you finally told her I know?".

Jensen’s smirk deepened.

"…Not exactly".

Jared let out an exasperated groan, dragging his hands down his face. "You’re such an asshole".

Jensen grinned, clearly having way too much fun with this. "Yeah, but I’m your asshole".

"Unfortunately", Jared muttered, shaking his head. He peered past him again, curiosity flickering behind his eyes. "So, are you gonna let her out, or are we pretending she doesn’t exist?".

Jensen chuckled, finally turning his head toward the bathroom.

"Sweetheart?". His voice was sickeningly amused, way too pleased with himself. "You gonna come say hi, or you planning on hiding in there all day?".

You froze, heart pounding, throat suddenly dry as hell.

Jared knew?

Jared fucking knew?

And Jensen never told you?!

You were going to kill him.

Slowly.

You exhaled sharply, gathering yourself, before stepping out of the bathroom, towel still wrapped around you, your face heating instantly when Jared’s knowing gaze landed on you.

Jared blinked.

Then, with zero hesitation, he smirked.

"Oh". He nodded, fighting back a laugh. "Yeah. That definitely tracks".

Jensen’s grin widened, watching the way you glared daggers at him before crossing your arms, clearly one second away from launching something at his head.

"You knew", you said flatly, eyes locked onto Jared.

Jared snorted. "Oh, yeah. Jensen spilled days ago. Thought you knew".

Your eyes snapped back to Jensen, murder flashing behind them.

"You are so fucking dead".

Jensen grinned like a bastard, completely unbothered.

"Yeah, yeah", he murmured, stepping closer, hands slipping around your waist as he pressed a slow, teasing kiss to your temple, just to piss you off more. "Still worth it, though".

You swore you saw red.

And Jared?

Jared just laughed his ass off.

Eventually, Jared shifting his weight before casually holding out his hand toward you.

"Well", he said, smirking, "since we’re not pretending you don’t exist anymore, I guess I should properly introduce myself—".

But before you could take it, his expression shifted, realization hitting him like a freight train. His hand hovered in midair for a second before his face twisted in horror, and he yanked it back.

"Actually, you know what—never mind". He grimaced, shaking his head, his face scrunching up like he just walked into something disgusting. "I just remembered exactly what you two were doing before I knocked".

Your face flamed, heat rushing to your ears as the memory of exactly what had just happened surged through your mind.

Jensen, meanwhile?

Losing his damn mind.

He let out a loud, unrestrained laugh, gripping his stomach as he leaned against the doorframe, fully enjoying the absolute mess unfolding in front of him.

"Wow, Padalecki", he mused, mockingly wiping a fake tear from his eye. "And here I thought you were all about bonding".

Jared shot him a flat look, clearly unamused. "Yeah, I’m good, thanks. No need to get that close".

Jensen just grinned, slinging an arm lazily around your shoulders, pulling you closer as his fingers toyed with the edge of your towel—just to mess with you.

You immediately tensed, glaring up at him. "Jensen", you hissed through clenched teeth, shifting slightly, hyper-aware of just how little was covering you.

He winked, voice dropping.

"Relax, sweetheart", he murmured, lips brushing your ear, "not like Jared hasn’t already figured out how thoroughly I just fucked you".

Your entire face ignited, heat rushing through you so violently you had to physically shove him away.

"Jensen!", you sputtered, barely resisting the urge to smack him.

Jared groaned loudly, rubbing his temples. "For the love of God, can we go now?".

Jensen let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his shoulders like getting up and leaving was the biggest inconvenience in the world. "Yeah, yeah. Just lemme grab a shower real quick", he muttered, stretching. "Need to get her off my body first".

Your face somehow got even hotter, and Jared immediately threw up his hands.

"NOPE", he declared, turning around so fast it was almost cartoonish. "I refuse to hear another goddamn word. I will be downstairs, waiting, pretending none of this ever happened".

And just like that, he was gone, muttering something under his breath as he disappeared down the hall.

The second the door clicked shut, you spun on Jensen, smacking his arm hard enough to make him chuckle.

"You are such an asshole", you snapped, mortified beyond belief.

Jensen just laughed, stepping closer, hands gripping your waist again.

"Yeah", he murmured, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to your lips, "but you like me anyway".

Only ten minutes later, Jensen was moving around the room, hastily buckling his belt, his shirt slightly wrinkled, his hair damp from the world’s fastest shower.

You were still sitting on the bed, still half-naked, towel barely hanging onto you, watching him with a mix of amusement and exhaustion.

"Never seen you move this fast", you teased, tilting your head as he grabbed his SnapBack off the dresser and shoved it on backwards, clearly prioritizing speed over style.

Jensen shot you a look, smirking. "Yeah, well, someone made me late", he murmured, pointedly, as he reached for his watch—

Only to realize you had already picked it up.

You held it out lazily, wrist dangling over the edge of the bed, watching as he stepped closer, his fingers brushing yours as he took it.

That little touch—as brief as it was—made your stomach flip, and suddenly, you were too aware of the way he was looking at you.

Like he was thinking about throwing you back onto the bed all over again.

Like he was debating if being late was really that big of a deal.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. "Better hurry, or Jared’s gonna come back up here and kick the door down".

Jensen exhaled sharply, reluctantly strapping the watch onto his wrist, still smirking like a bastard. "That man needs to take a breath. It’s not like they’re starting without me".

"You mean the convention where thousands of people are literally waiting for you?".

He shrugged, completely unbothered, but then his eyes flicked back to you—still sitting there, still wrapped in nothing but a towel, still looking too goddamn tempting for your own good.

His smirk turned dangerous.

"You’re really not making it easy to leave, sweetheart", he muttered, fingers trailing lightly along your bare thigh, like he was considering being just a little later.

Your breath hitched, body still sensitive from before, but you quickly swatted his hand away, sending him a warning glare.

"Nope". You shook your head. "You’re already late because of me. I am not responsible for you missing your flight next".

Jensen chuckled, hands up in mock surrender, but you could see it—the way he hesitated, the way he looked at you like he wanted to stay just a little longer.

And that?

That was dangerous.

Because you couldn’t let this become more than what it was.

So you forced a smirk, tilting your head as you leaned back against the pillows, stretching slightly.

"Besides", you murmured, voice laced with mock innocence, "I think you’ve had more than enough of me for one morning".

Jensen’s jaw ticked, his smirk faltering just for a second before his gaze darkened, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for you again.

But instead, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a grin, before taking a deliberate step back.

"Yeah, we’ll see about that", he muttered, winking before turning toward the door.

And as he grabbed his keycard and slipped out, leaving you alone in that messy, wrecked hotel room—

You had a feeling he was right.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

The silence in the room was deafening now that Jensen was gone.

You sat there for a moment, towel still wrapped around you, staring at the mess of sheets, the faint imprint of where he had just been. The room still smelled like him—his cologne, the heat of his skin, the lingering scent of sex and something more.

And yet, all you could think about was what had just happened.

Jensen told Jared about you.

Your stomach twisted at the realization, your fingers gripping the edge of the towel tighter.

Why?

The two of you weren’t even labeled. That had been his rule, not yours.

No commitments. No expectations. Just this. Stolen moments, hotel rooms, late-night calls that always ended the same way.

Jensen had made it clear from the start—he wasn’t looking to settle down again, not after everything with Danneel. You were his secret affair or whatever the hell this was.

So why the fuck did he tell Jared?

Jensen wasn’t the type to just share information for no reason. Jared was his best friend, sure, but that didn’t mean Jensen had to tell him everything.

Especially about you.

And yet—he had.

Days ago, apparently. And he hadn’t even mentioned it. Hadn’t even warned you.

Your heart did a weird, uneasy flip, frustration creeping up your spine.

What did it mean?

Was it just Jensen being careless?

Or was it something more?

You hated that the question lingered, that it stuck in your chest, leaving you restless in the empty bed. Because no matter how much you told yourself this was casual, simple, no strings attached—

Jensen had just tangled you up in something you weren’t prepared for.

And you weren’t sure what the hell to do about it.

Inside the car, the steady hum of the road filled the space as Cliff sat in the front seat, engaged in casual conversation with the driver. The ride to the convention center was smooth, quiet—until Jared turned to Jensen, his voice low, casual, but laced with curiosity.

"She’s pretty young, huh?".

Jensen’s jaw ticked, his fingers drumming lazily against his thigh as he leaned back against the seat. He didn’t react right away, just let the words sit in the air for a second before exhaling through his nose.

He knew what Jared was doing.

"She’s twenty-five", Jensen muttered, glancing out the window like that was supposed to end the conversation.

Jared tilted his head, not buying it. "So… twenty-one-year age gap?". His brows lifted slightly, his tone neutral, but Jensen knew him too well.

"Jesus", Jensen grumbled, running a hand through his damp hair, still backwards in the damn SnapBack because he hadn’t even bothered fixing it properly. "Thanks for the math, professor".

Jared smirked but didn’t drop it. "I mean… it’s kinda a thing, dude", he said, shifting slightly to look at him. "Not saying it’s bad. Just… different for you".

Jensen didn’t respond immediately, but the muscle in his jaw twitched again.

Because yeah, Jared was right.

It was different.

Jensen wasn’t blind. He knew people would raise eyebrows if they knew. Twenty-one years. That was a big gap, no matter how he spun it. And yeah, you were young, but you weren´t a kid—you were smart, independent, and didn’t take his shit.

And yet, that wasn’t the part that bothered him.

It was the fact that Jared was bringing it up at all.

Which meant he noticed something.

Jensen sighed, shifting in his seat, still staring out the window. "She’s not some kid, man", he muttered, rubbing his jaw. "She knows what this is. I’m not leading her on".

Jared made a small humming sound, still watching him. "Right".

Jensen glanced at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "What?".

Jared shrugged, tone even. "Nothing", A beat of silence, then— "Just saying, if it’s really nothing, you wouldn’t have told me about her".

Jensen’s stomach clenched, but he kept his face neutral.

"Thought you’d figure it out anyway", he muttered, shrugging. "You always do".

Jared huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah. But you never tell me unless you want me to know".

And there it was.

Jensen’s fingers flexed against his knee, his teeth pressing together slightly, but he didn’t argue.

Because Jared was right.

Again.

And that?

That was the part that fucked with him the most.

Jared sensed the difference immediately.

It was subtle, something most people wouldn’t catch—but Jared knew Jensen too well.

During the double photo ops, Jensen was usually his usual self—smiling, laughing, making fans feel comfortable. But there was always something else, something second nature to him.

He looked.

Jensen always checked out the women who caught his interest, just a quick glance, a flick of his green eyes as if gauging if they were worth a second look.

He’d done it for years.

Hell, even when he was married to Danneel, he still had that instinct—never acting on it, never disrespectful, but the habit was there.

But this time?

Nothing.

Jensen’s gaze never lingered. Never even flickered to anything other than the camera, the fan he was greeting, or whatever dumbass joke Jared was cracking beside him.

Not once did he do the subtle once-over. Not once did he let his eyes wander, even briefly.

Jared took note.

He took a lot of notes.

Especially when, during a break between photo ops, Jensen pulled out his phone, his expression shifting just slightly—a look that Jared had never seen Jensen wear while texting someone.

Not some smug grin like he was setting up a fun night. Not some casual response like he didn’t care.

This was different. This was soft.

Jared leaned over slightly, trying to get a glimpse. "Who’s got you smiling like that?", he teased.

Jensen immediately locked the screen, tucking his phone away without so much as a word.

And that?

That spoke volumes.

Jared smirked to himself, shaking his head.

"Yeah", he muttered under his breath. "That’s what I thought".

The panel was going smoothly—plenty of laughs, plenty of inside jokes, the usual back-and-forth banter that fans ate up. Jensen and Jared had been doing this for so long it was second nature at this point.

But then, the question happened.

A fan stepped up to the mic. “What’s the biggest age gap crush you’ve ever had?”.

Jensen froze for a second, his brows knitting together as he tilted his head.

He was clearly trying to decipher the question, his brain gearing up for the wrong interpretation.

“I don’t know.. I don’t… I mean..I didn’t really have like.. uh.. crushes on celebrities when I was… I was too busy…“, he mumbled, still trying to piece it together.

Jared, standing beside him, instantly sensed the opportunity.

He grinned, just barely, leaning into his mic. “Doesn’t have to be a celebrity”.

The moment the words left his mouth, Jensen stiffened.

It was so fast, so subtle, but Jared caught it.

“Well”, Jensen started, but Jared interrupted him. “I‘m gonna answer for him“.

“Oh, great”, Jensen muttered, taking a long, slow sip of his coffee, like he was bracing himself for whatever the hell was about to come out of Jared’s mouth.

Jared, still grinning like a smug bastard, paused for dramatic effect, scanning the audience before leaning forward again.

“He has… he currently has.. a crush.. on somebody who is… ”, he drawled, dragging it out.

Jensen’s entire body tensed.

His eyes flicked with panic, just for a second—the kind of split-second panic that screamed oh, shit, I just got caught.

And that reaction?

Worth every damn second.

Jared barely bit back a laugh as he pivoted, fast as hell, finishing the sentence smoothly.

“34 years younger and 31 years younger”, He nodded dramatically. “And they’re his daughters”.

The audience roared with laughter and `aaaww´s´ completely missing the tiny moment that had just unfolded.

Jensen exhaled through his nose, his jaw clenching, before leaning into his mic with a deadpan look.

“What he said!”, Jensen quickly shot and earning more laughter from the fans.

———————————

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

-

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[lbjeff]

I loved it. I want a villain!Danny, he is not evil but full of chaos. Sometime he is a villain that likes chaos, sometime like an anti-hero, but he never is a hero, never again.

Maybe something happened that let he figured out that being hero didn’t worth it. He doesn’t need to be a hero to protect everything he cared about, but he only realize it when everything he care to protect are destroyed because he was a hero and people don’t scared to destroy what the hero with no kill rule’s protect. Since then, he being torn apart between being good guy Danny and world destroyer Dan. He know it not fair for everyone else to suffering because of his misery, but he doesn’t have a reason to protect anymore.

So Danny went to Gotham, to meet his distant family, to feel belonged and find new purpose. But before Danny meet his distant family, he met Two-Faces first. He was wandering near some warehouses, conflicted by the ideas should or should not met his distant family. Then he saw Two-faces, making decisions based on his coin. So he confronted him. Now Danny is Two-Faces’s son who even worse than his dad

The Wayne have received the phone call from Bruce’s distant relative. He from Amity Town, where have been destroyed by the war between government agencies and “ghost” from Infinite Realms. The JL and JLD have taken cared of it after the place had been wiped out of Earth, make peace with representative of Infinity Realms, Clockwork but due to political reason, the Bats didn’t have enough information about “Infinity Realms” as they want. So gaining a relative whose parents play a important role in the events at Amity Town and may have connection with Phantom, the hero that disappeared after the town destroyed is …good. So in Batman’s original plan (that all the Batkids protested), he will meet Danny, gaining information and then find a safety place that suitable for a boy than his family who fighting crimes in the streets.

However, Danny didn’t go to them as the plan. What Bruce get is a sorry call, and an advise not to announce anyone they know him. Before Batman could find him, the family met Danny the first time with he is Two-Faces’s heir with the name Halves.

Comparing his image now with his past photo, they sees something different. Danny now like the confused between himself in the past with Phantom, the hero of Amity. His hair black in the roots but whiten from the middle to the end. His pairs of eyes, one is blue like the ocean, one green as axit liquid. Half of him cover in lightning-like scares, half smoothing as a new born-baby. He is paled like a ghost. His outfit, half of it full black with detail like Phantom’s suit, half of it is white with black details. He looks too human to be a ghost like Phantom but too ghost like to be a human like usual Danny. Every time he talks, people hear 2 voices, one is Danny’s and one is Phantom’s echo voice (had been compared to the audio of the two). Sometime there is Danny’s voice only, sometime just Phantom’s echoes.

Then the Batfamily begin to dig more information about them. Due to the remaining evidences they could recovered, Danny and Phantom both had been captured by GIW, there are two files about them and those had been put in one folder. In those files, there were “evidences” about the relationship between Danny and Phantom: They were lovers. Then the Bats come to conclusion that the experiments are about fusing Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom due to their similarities in ages, ectoplasm in Danny’s ADN, the emotions of Phantom to Danny and other suitabilities between them. So now in the Batfamily, JL and JLD’s eyes, Halves is the fusion between Danny and his boyfriend, Phantom. Now the love forever traps in one body, can’t be separated. Worse, now they may blame the world because everything of them had been destroyed with Amity.

——————

Batman: I should have pick him up at the airport

Red Robin: Well, who know he could met Two-Faces and has a new identity now

Nightwings: I kinda feel bad for him

Batman: But now he is out there, killing people

Red Hood: Hey, don’t blame the kid. You know what he—them had been through. At least he with Two-Faces, not Joker or Scarecrow. He just flips coin, not laugh gas or fear toxic

Robin: TT. He just flips the coin but never use it to make decisions. He just a copy-cat

Red Robin: Not really. Due to our past conversations, he flips the coin to be sure what he wants. If he prefers something more than the other while the coin is flipping, he will make decisions right on what he like, if the choices are the same to him, he will do as the coin says

Batman: Hmn. So he is a narcissistic, act as he likes without caring about the aftermath

Red Hood: Well, Halves is both Danny and Phantom, of cause he is narcissistic.

Black Bat: You seems fond of him

Robin: Of cause he likes him. Hood has been a simp since Halves shoot Joker in the face while flipping his coin.

Red Robin: Well you also have a crush on Halves after reading their files, aren’t you? It only get worse after you see his army of stay animals

Nightwings: WHAT? Damian, is it true?

Robin: TT. At least I not trying to hide it. Unlike someone have both of Phantom’s cut from papers photos and Danny’s photos at his award celebrations in an album that had made since Phantom first debut and Danny’s first time win an award in Gotham.

Other Batkids: WHAT?

Red Robin rolled his eyes: Everyone could have a crush or two. How could I know two of my crushes may dating the other then latter fusing into one. At least before or after they became Halves, I still have a chance because I am not blood related with Bruce, aka not related with Halves

Robin: It was 3 generations ago

Nightwings: You all understand that even they are Danny and Phantom or just Halves, they’re still dating and in a relationship, right?

Robin, Red Robin and Red Hood: Shut up, Dick

Nightwings just shrugs

Batman? He is having a crisis because he is planning to adopted Danny in the end of everything but now he knows that all of his Robin sons have a crush on his distant relative.

Yes, all of his Robin kids, cause last night he just saw Nightwings flirted with Halves in the most cringed way, he only that cringing when he really crushing someone, not as some normal flings

At least Duke is still normal about Danny.

Later when Signal is the first one who officially proposed to Halve, Batman really worry that he has a curse that all of his sons will like his distant relative that he’s planning to adopt. Alfred just gives him pats and a glass of milk

DC X DP Prompt 8

Danny is a variant of Two-Face and Harvey Dent, with one side being Fenton and the other being Phantom.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

The company budsies, which specializes in making custom stuffed animals and making duplicates of old or lost plushies, is currently offering to recreate the beloved stuffed animal of any kid who lost theirs in the LA wildfire, free of charge.

Their instagram post said to share this, so please spread this around so that families who've lost everything can receive just a little bit more hope in their lives 🥺

[bean-writes]

Potatoes are worth fighting for.

Patreon

[klikandtuna]

If you find yourself in need of a story of hope, and courage, and the triumph of love over bigotry…try Find the Light on for size.

Hang in there. 💛

[lunarruled]

That little ray of sunshine in this dark world, finding out that Rosita was a mechanic as well, gave Kyleigh a much needed boost of confidence. Yeah she could pretend all she wanted that she was fearless and nothing got to her, but damn sometimes it really did. When it was right after she had lost that first group she was with the half lycan thought she was never going to trust anyone again, never going to find humans that were worth fighting alongside. And she had carried that with her when coming into this camp. But a few hours spent planning this escape with Rosita and the others had started to change all that. Maybe the four of them could really pull this off and get the hell back to their loved ones. Even if they did have to go to another state as her friend had just suggested. She wasn't sure how well all of them would do out there, but anything was worth a shot at this point.

Thankful that for once Warren didn't give her a fight, or as he probably thought of it as just expressing his opinion on the matter, Kyleigh was more than ready to move ahead with this plan. Dumb guard or not she was happy that Rosita had come up with a good excuse for her to be near the truck. Given that Irina still looked way too terrified about this whole thing it was great for her to just stay hidden. And Kyleigh? Well she was a master of distraction if she did say so herself. It was how she hustled for money when she was on the road and how she had gotten herself out of more than a few sticky situations in the past.

"Don't worry about that, I know exactly what to do." She promised, a sly smile flashing across her face. It might have been a typical 'female' thing, but hey it worked and it wasn't like she had the time to pull out some James Bond type shit.

----------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as the four of them split up, Kyleigh told Warren to go get what he wanted to take with him and make it quick. She did the same, just grabbing her bag that was always ready and casually 'borrowing' a tube of lipstick from one of the other women in her tent. Why the hell she still had that Kyleigh had no idea, but it was going to come in handy in a few minutes. Thank god she was not good at putting it on, allowing it to smear just a bit over her lips to give the illusion that she and Warren had been kissing. Of course that thought gave her the urge to throw up but now was not the time to be dramatic, that would happen in a few short minutes.

The second he saw her Kyleigh knew that Warren understood her odd lipstick look, nodding to her as she motioned for him to follow her. A gunshot went off followed by a scream, pulling the few others that were around towards the front of the camp. Shit! She hoped that wasn't Rosita getting caught or something far worse. Grabbing Warren's hand she quickly dragged him further away towards the back gate, sighing with relief when they found that no one was guarding it.

"Should only take a second." She whispered to him as she fished inside her pocket for her favorite bobby pin. It had been sharpened down on one end to be the perfect tool for picking locks, just like the one on the gate. As she promised a few seconds later the thick box clicked open, Kyleigh keeping it in her hand so that she could place back on as soon as she and Warren were out of the gate. This way it would look as if they had never been there at all, Kyleigh dragging her foot over the soft imprints they left behind.

"Go! When you hear me scream, head for the truck. I'll be right behind you!"

Waiting until they had circled back around the camp to the front and the truck was visible, Kyleigh nodded for Warren to get ready. Now it was her turn to let out a piercing scream, causing that poor guard to turn in her direction.

"Help, quick! Please, I need help!"

As soon as he started over towards her she motioned for Warren to get to the truck, hoping that Rosita and Irina were already in there. That would mean three of them down and only her left. She met the guard by the gate she was at, a frantic look on her face as she kept glancing behind her.

"My boyfriend! He's out there! We went for a walk and on the way back we got trapped. I swear he was right behind me! Those things might have gotten him! Please, he's all I have left!"

She all but screamed at the guy, forcing tears to come to her eyes. Dude was either really stupid or just felt bad for her because he climbed over the fence without hesitation.

"Go on, get back in and get checked. I'll be right back." He ordered her before taking off in the direction she had pointed.

"Dumbass. Should have never left your post."

Once his back was turned Kyleigh took off the few yards towards the front gate, the others dealing with the chaos that was going on behind the truck. Their backs were to her, giving her the chance to hop up in the truck and find a good hiding spot all the way in the back. Waiting a few moments to settle in she let out a specific clicking sound, the one that if everything had worked with the others, would quickly be returned and would let her know that now all they had to do was wait until they were out on the road to plan their next move.

As Kyleigh mentioned being a mechanic, Rosita smiled, albeit it was a bit of a wry smile given the situation they were in. She was used to being the only female mechanic among a bunch of men. She had always been a tomboyish type of girl, but regardless, she appreciated having another woman around of the same occupation. "I would say I still am", Rosita remarked. No need to say she had been a mechanic, as it implied things were over. The world beyond those walls was beyond horrible, but there was no way things had spread that far.

Was there...?

"It gets too easy losing hope when everything out there looks the way it does.. But we'll find a safe place. Somewhere else, maybe out of state if it comes to that," Rosita assured. Irina gave an affirming nod and Warren's expression remained difficult to read - disagreeing, maybe, but he remained silent.

Another smile graced Rosita's features as Kyleigh mentioned the guard. That woman really was confident. She wondered where all of that came from. Who did she think she was to be able to distract guards that easily?

"You can tell it's mere fiction because it involves me hooking up with someone, but the excuse is smart," Warren replied, speaking Rosita's mind. Acting like two people hooking up was smart, it was a good reason to sneak around, finding some place in the camp where you could be with your partner without being interrupted.

Rosita nodded at the plan.  "Sounds good. And I'll just say I need to check on a vehicle in case a guard asks us. As for Irina - she's helping out." She is, that's true - Rosita thinks, just not with fixing a vehicle but with escaping this mess of a camp.

"Alright," Rosita said, "we'll go now, Warren you keep an eye on your watch so it doesn't take you longer than twenty minutes for you to get there." As for her and Irina none of them had a watch but Rosita had an excellent sense of time.

"Just one more thing," Rosita spoke up, "We don't know how well secured the area around the truck is. Either way, there will be at least one guard keeping an eye on the area. He is not the brightest but even if it's just him, we have the problem that it's four of us trying to get inside the truck. It's not exactly subtle. I guess being part of the military, I could always tell the guard that I need to check the truck. So I have a valid excuse for being near it, and I can open it for everyone to get in. But as for you three - you need to remain hidden. Maybe one of us can cause a distraction so all of us have a shot of sneaking inside. If there are patrols, we need to think of something really good though."

If Kyleigh wants to be the one to cause a distraction? It'll be her job. Otherwise, it would be on Warren or her.

It was the only way in case they could not get into the truck otherwise. Four people escaping by trying to climb over the fence? That was near impossible. The supply truck was their only shot, and they had to find a way. Especially since the guard on duty today was the worst one.

Rosita swallowed, a feeling of uneasiness forming in her abdomen. If this shit went south, if they get caught-

No. No time to waste a single second wondering of what if's. Better make sure it went right than worrying. Worrying never helped.

--

Should have been twenty minutes, Rosita thinks. Maybe a bit more. She hoped no one had been waiting on her. In situations like that people got anxious over a delay of a mere minute.

As Irina and Rosita arrived at the meeting point, she could see the truck from a short distance, a sturdy, grey model with supply runners unloading the back of it. Damn it, Rosita thought as she realized they have not brought back much at all given the size of this camp. They were already short on rations to the point where there was no breakfast on most days and lunch and dinner were too small portions for most adults.

Maybe it was a good thing they were leaving.

No civilians around here. Just the clumsy guard and four supply runners unloading stuff. If Rosita got seen around here, she would have to claim something might be wrong with the truck or she would be sent away. Although she wonders whether Irina, Warren and Kyleigh will be allowed around if they get seen too. They would have to think of a good excuse in any case.

Her worries were interrupted by the loud sound of a shot. The supply runner's body quickly dropped to the ground as the bullet penetrated his skull. A clean shot delivered by the guard the moment he registered the new bite wound that the man had brought back to the camp. The other three were forced to stay in line as he examined their bodies. A woman screaming that it was just a scratch from one of them, insisting it was not sufficient enough to turn into one of those things. A moment after, she joined her partner, her body falling to the ground as the guard took her life. The other two were quick to leave the scene, glancing backward at the dead bodies of their colleagues as they went back to the main area of the camp.

For as inattentive as that guard could get, he certainly did follow his orders.

Now they just had to sneak inside and hide inside the truck the whole night before the next supply runners came to leave early in the morning.

Someone had to distract him, though. As close as he was to the truck, four people getting inside was just a bit much.

It was Kyleigh's turn to do something. Hopefully she wasn't as overconfident as she seemed to be.

[fictionadventurer]

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes reviews I've seen fixate on the story's discussion of whether humans are inherently good or inherently evil as if one side or the other is the correct answer. Meanwhile the story itself is showing that individual choice in every action--choosing to act out of either love or self-interest--is what truly matters in shaping society. A free and stable society requires that people be taught to make selfless choices rather than act out of fear. Instead of oppressing people into fearful order, citizens need to have the freedom to choose the good, and be educated with the values that teach them what good is.

[swaps55]

I had to get up off the mat and attend a conference today. I was dreading it. Woke up at 3:30 this morning with a knot in my stomach heavy enough to be a murder weapon, and now I had to talk to people who possibly voted against my existence and act like it was fine.

But a couple of things happened today.

I work in a fairly niche industry, and in the sessions I attended today, people were talking about solving problems.

In one session, the speaker talked about discovering an accessibility problem on their college campus. This university is in a remote area, and students without cars weren't enrolling because public transit to get there took four hours.

So a group of people sat down in a room to try and solve the problem, afraid they'd run into roadblocks with costs and infrastructure. To their delight, they realized that by moving a bus stop and adjusting bus schedules by 15 minutes, they could take that 4 hours down to 90 minutes.

This speaker was so excited about creating better access for students who needed it. They'd found a solution for people who wanted to learn but couldn't due to lack of transportation.

In another session, a panel of people talked about how they integrate art into public buildings, and how the public entity, building designer, builder, and artist worked together to create art that belonged to a community, and how all the challenges to making it happen were worth solving. The building they did their case study on was beautiful.

In a later session, a room full of higher education professionals who manage transportation on their campuses talked about the growing need for EV charging stations on campus. It's a surprising complex and complicated challenge in terms of energy supply, infrastructure, cost, planning, etc. There are no easy answers on how to do it.

A few made the observation that by providing chargers, they'd accidentally wound up in the energy business, where they didn't think universities should be.

"Yes we should," one of them said. He went on to remind us that yes, we could expect students and faculty could go home to charge their cars instead of doing it on campus. But those are also the worst time to plug into the grid. It's overloaded. Solar energy can't handle it, so it taps into fossil fuels. It's dirty energy. And he wasn't satisfied for making it someone else's problem. "We don't have to be in the energy business. But it's better for the environment if we are. It's better for the future. We should be in the energy business, because it's the right thing to do."

All day I was surrounded by people who put their professional energy into solving problems, not because it would make them rich, but because they were problems that needed to be solved, and they were the ones who took it upon themselves to solve them.

And...I felt better.

After the electric vehicle panel, I thanked the person who made a plea for the right thing to do, because I felt a little less despair after hearing it. He smiled at me and said, "Yesterday was rough. But 48 million people in this country stood up and did the right thing. That's a lot of people."

On a lot of days to come that might not feel like enough. But in your city, in your town, in your state, there are still people who are taking on challenges and standing up to do the right thing, for both the small things and the big things.

It's not going to be easy. But I'm going to be one of them.

[qqueenofhades]

[rafaelcb]

"I'd do it one hundred times over if I could," he said honestly, a small s mile on his face. Rafael loved his parents, and not just in the way that children paid lip service by saying that they loved their parents; he really didn't know what he would do without either of them. Didn't want to think about he day when they weren't here anymore with him. "Oh, see, she might be a little insulted! This is my dad's recipe," he grinned as he gestured to the food on the plate. "But anything Italian that I cook, that's mom's influence, so trust me, it's just as good. I have to work very, very hard to be sure that I never choose favorites when it comes to them." They could fight like cats and dogs, especially when it came down to the time that they spent in the kitchen and which one of them could end up making a better meal. Both, in his opinion.

"I went there once," he admitted on a whim with a smile, "we all did, actually -- we took a trip to Finland, hosted by the Benefactor, and it was absolutely gorgeous. I remember feeling absolutely… amazed, seeing those northern lights. I had never seen anything like that." Had never really felt that level of cold air, either. But it had been worth it to say that he had gotten to explore somewhere new, to try different foods, to live a different life, just for that little bit of a time. "But I can absolutely understand how it would have felt to go from that to a place like New York City, that's a massive, massive difference. The noise alone must have made you feel a bit insane." The honking, the yelling, the loud clattering noises of construction that never seemed to end when you were living in the big apple. "And no, I agree with you. I think it's a wonderful thing, to get to explore and learn new things about the world around you."

"Oh, please," he let out a soft laugh and waved off her apology as she said that it sounded awful, knowing that it had been his own fault that his life had fallen apart, "it was a long, long time ago. Another lifetime, at this point." And it did feel that way, when he sat and thought about it for long enough. He had changed so much since then, grown enough that he knew that it had all happened for a reason. "But I do have some stories. I was very active in New York City's social scene back then. Lawyer by day, bar hopper by night. Had one of those big, lavish weddings that everyone attended, the whole nine yards," and he could laugh about it, now that he was so far removed from that lifestyle. "But I don't miss it. So that's a testament for this town, you know?"

At her next question, he let out a laugh against the rim of his wine glass that he had just lifted to his lips. "Absolutely not, no. I'm not. I've never had a pet, and I have no plans to have one -- they're just… dirty," he admitted with a scrunch of his nose. "And to be honest… the life I live, the amount of time I spend at the office, I wouldn't want to have a pet that sat at home wondering where I was all day. I did, very briefly, have one of those betta fish everyone swears are so fancy and fun to keep." He paused. "I forgot to feed it."

"Rafael, that's close enough!" Honestly, he may as well have with how impressed she was. Her legs folded under her as she perched on the bar stall, eyes glimmering with intrigue. "Wow, that's like, the ultimate way to give back to people you care about, surely?" Her smile softened into something sentimental. "Well, if she's as good of a cook as you," she raised her eyebrows, gesturing towards her plate. "I'll look forward to it, these are good." She shifted again, her legs dropping to subtly swing under her chair as she ate and listened. She liked Rafael, she knew that already just through the sheer fact that she accepted the temporary promotion from him. But now, it flowed more like admiration. If the Merrock dream was even a thing, surely he was the definition of it?

She tilted her head. "Uh, I guess a mixture of all of it? I feel like the food was secondary, almost, which seems crazy now," she laughed, "but to put it into perspective, I grew up in the Arctic Circle. It's like..." her voice trailed off, looking up as she visualised it, her hand elevating to eye-level. "If this is Sweden, it's right here," she said moving her hand up before fishing out her phone to show him some pictures of the snowy Lapland province; typical scandi buildings of yellow and red, open lakes, night skys patterned with the Northern Lights, one too many caribou. "Surprisingly more people than Merrock, but I still feel like everything in the States is just...faster? I feel like I was naive making the jump to New York, it ate me alive," she laughed dryly, shaking her head. "But once I was out, yeah! Different foods and cultures, that was probably the biggest appeal, I don't think you can ever really be too exposed to new things in that sense?"

Aurora's jaw nearly hit the floor at the mention of New York; unsure if he'd already cross-referenced from her earlier mention or missed it. What were the odds? "–Oh, I'm sorry. That sounds awful." She was never one to gloss over would-be awkward revelations, instead she felt them with her whole heart. Her eyebrows knitting together but never prying for more. "Oooh, I bet you have some New York stories to tell," she'd laugh through a sip of her wine, "I'm holding you to telling me those at some point – but that makes total sense, sometimes you have to experience things to know if they work for you or not. Can't just look at it on paper." She smiled before dusting away some of the sentimental energy for a more light-hearted question; one she was 99.99% sure she already knew the answer to but was absolutely going to probe him on anyway. "You're not a pet person?" she asked, there'd been zero signs of any animals unless she missed one. "I had you down as a cat man."

[schofielded]

Rip Dr. Harry Goodsir you would’ve loved Samwise Gamgee