Warnings: 18+ MDNI, weed use, sleep grinding, sexual tension, reader soaking wet from a few lazy ruts, playful biting <3
Word count: 1.1k
Masterlist | Jeremy's Playlist
The two of you were gone.
Not in a dangerous way, just in the way that made everything hilarious for no reason. The TV flickered in front of you, playing some dumb reality show you had started watching ironically but were now deeply invested in. Jeremy was half-sitting, half-sprawled on the bed beside you, a bag of chips balanced precariously on his chest.
“This guy,” you snorted, pointing at the screen, “is the worst liar I’ve ever seen. Look at his face. He’s guilty as hell.”
Jeremy squinted, chewing lazily on a chip. “Nah. He’s just stupid. That’s not guilt, it’s pure, unfiltered dumbassery.”
You gasped dramatically, turning to him. “Dumbassery isn’t a word.”
“Yeah, it is.” He grinned, eyes glassy but playful. “It’s, like, the study of dumbasses. The scientific term.”
You let out a wheezing laugh, shoving at his arm. “Oh my God, shut up.”
He didn’t shut up. If anything, he leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was telling you a secret. “No, but really, if you think about it, I could totally get it added to the dictionary. I’d just have to prove it's a real word by using it enough.”
“Oh, sure. Go ahead and start a petition. ‘Jeremy Gilbert, founder of Dumbassery Studies.’”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered, warmth curling in your chest. You didn’t even realize how close you’d gotten until you turned back toward the TV and your shoulder brushed his. Neither of you moved away.
Instead, the teasing continued. Jeremy stole the last chip out of your hand, and you dramatically declared war. He tickled your side in retaliation, and you nearly choked laughing, swatting him away. Then came the absolutely critical debate on whether or not aliens existed, which spiraled into the logistics of living on Mars and somehow ended with Jeremy proclaiming he would be a “space cowboy” if given the opportunity.
“You would be the worst space cowboy ever,” you said between giggles, wiping a tear from your eye.
Jeremy gasped, hand over his heart in mock offense. “Excuse you? I’d be amazing. Riding space horses, lassoing asteroids. I’d be legendary.”
You snorted. “Name one time you’ve even successfully ridden a regular horse.”
A pause.
“That’s not important,” he declared, flopping dramatically against you with a heavy sigh. “You have no vision.”
His weight pressed into you, warm and solid, and your laughter was muffled against his shoulder. “God, you’re such a dumbass.”
“Professor of Dumbassery Studies, actually,” he mumbled sleepily.
Somewhere between the giggling and the ridiculous arguments, the exhaustion settled in. The warmth of the high mixed with the comfort of the moment, pulling you both under. The TV played on, long forgotten as the heavy haze of sleep crept in.
Jeremy was behind you now, his body pressed along yours in a way that had started casual, comfortable, even. Just two very stoned idiots too lazy to move apart. You mumbled something about stealing the blanket, and he grumbled something back, his voice softer now, drowsier. You hadn’t questioned it at the time, just letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.
But then, he moves.
At first, it was nothing. Just the slow, even rhythm of his breathing against your back. The weight of an arm slung somewhere near your waist, not quite holding you, but close enough that you could feel the heat of him through your shirt.
And then, in the haze of half-sleep, it happens.
The slow, unconscious roll of his hips.
You freeze.
Maybe, maybe, you imagined it. But then it happens again. The heavy drag of his body against yours, slow and unhurried, like his subconscious is guiding him.
Oh.
A flicker of heat curls low in your stomach, unwanted but undeniable. You tell yourself it’s just a coincidence, a random movement in sleep, but then you feel it, him.
Hard.
The thick, aching press of him against the curve of your ass, straining through the thin layers of clothes separating you.
Your breath stutters, sharp and shaky.
It’s nothing. It’s just accidental.
But then he moves again, slower this time, and you swear you feel him throb against you. A deep, dragging grind that leaves him pressed so perfectly against your body, heat bleeding into you like a brand. His hips roll in a lazy rhythm, mindless but desperate, and every inch of him feels hot, heavy, and needy against you.
Your hands clutch the blanket tighter. Your thighs instinctively squeeze together, the friction sending a rush of heat straight to your core. Your body shivers slightly beneath the weight of him, every muscle locked tight, begging you to either move or melt.
God, it’s too much. Too easy to give in. Too easy to imagine what it would feel like if he weren’t half-asleep if he were awake and pinning you down properly, grinding into you with that same lazy, overwhelming need.
Another soft, helpless whimper escapes before you can stop it, the sound barely audible but earth-shattering in the thick silence of the room.
And that is what does it.
Jeremy stills.
The shift is immediate.
You can feel it, the way his whole body tenses, muscles locking up, breathing shifting from deep and steady to something uneven and ragged. The unmistakable twitch of him against you, the way he holds himself too still like he is painfully aware now of what he’s doing, and what he wants to keep doing.
A long, thick silence stretches between you.
Then, his forehead drops against your shoulder, and you hear it.
A low, choked-off laugh, rough and wrecked.
He grins against your skin, slow and lazy, way too pleased with himself.
"Wait," his voice is a rough scrape in the darkness. "Was I just?"
You don't answer. You can't answer. Your whole body is molten, strung so tight it feels like you'll snap if he so much as breathes wrong.
Jeremy shifts slightly, nudging his hips forward again, deliberate this time, and you feel all of him against you, hard and aching like he's daring you to pretend you didn’t notice.
His voice drops lower, barely a whisper.
“Damn.” Another lazy chuckle, this one dripping smugness. “You feel so good.”
Before you can even think of a response, before you can even breathe, he dips his head lower and bites your shoulder.
Not rough. Not to mark you. Just a lazy, playful scrape of his teeth over your skin, possessive in a way that makes your stomach drop.
Then, with a soft, satisfied exhale, he nuzzles into you and falls right back asleep, leaving you pinned beneath the heat of him, completely wide awake.
Warnings: 18+ NSFW, explicit sexual content, rough sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, light manhandling, Jeremy unhinged and sweaty in a white tank top (yes, it’s a warning)
Word count: 1.2k
Masterlist | Jeremy Playlist
The late afternoon sun slanted through the trees, casting golden light across the clearing just beyond the cabin. You lingered inside, leaning casually against the kitchen doorway, pretending to flip pages as you read your book. But your eyes kept drifting to the window.
You’d only planned to stay for the weekend.
Just long enough to help Jeremy manage the worst of the urges, to keep him focused during training, to make sure he didn’t accidentally turn Elena into a cautionary tale. The whole newly activated hunter thing had thrown him hard, and being his best friend, you volunteered to help. Because you cared. Because you always had.
But you couldn’t even prepare for it. What no one warned you about, was this.
Jeremy was outside, a few feet from the porch, one boot braced against a thick log, axe gripped in both hands. The tank top he was wearing was practically see-through with sweat, clinging to every ridge of muscle across his chest and back. His arms flexed with every controlled swing, veins bulging down his forearms, jaw clenched in focus. Every movement was effortless. Animal. Tension built and released with each perfect crack of the axe.
You watched as the tank was riding up just enough to flash the strip of skin above his jeans, taut, tan, and glistening in the heat. Every muscle in his body moved with that raw, effortless strength that came with being a hunter. There was something primal about it. Powerful. And watching him like this, focused, glistening, grunting softly as he split log after log, it did something to you.
You bit your lip, eyes following the line of sweat as it ran from his neck, across his collarbone, and disappeared down beneath the tank that lifted slightly every time he wiped his brow. He didn’t know you were watching.
Until he did.
He looked up, squinting toward the cabin, and caught you in the act.
You jerked your head away, but it was too late. He saw it. Saw the way you’d been eyeing him like he was the last drop of water in the desert. You tried to refocus, heart thudding in your chest, but then you heard the axe drop with a dull thud.
A few minutes passed. The front door creaked open.
Boots on wood. Then the soft thunk of them hitting the floor inside. You stayed still, half-expecting him to pass through without a word, but something was different. Charged.
Jeremy stepped into the kitchen, brushing past you just enough for your arms to graze. His skin was still warm from outside. Still glistening. Still dangerous.
“Something on your mind?” he asked, voice low, casual, but his eyes didn’t match his tone. They were dark. Direct. Like he already knew the answer.
“I was just… watching you work,” you said quickly, moving toward the hallway. The words left your mouth before you even had time to weigh them. And that was the problem, you were watching. And he knew.
He chuckled under his breath, following you. You could hear the smirk in his voice when he muttered, “You always stare like that, or is it the sweat?”
Your feet carried you forward, but your brain had already short-circuited. The hallway gave you space. Sort of. But you weren’t two steps in before you felt him again.
Without warning, he was there.
Jeremy’s presence loomed behind you. You barely had time to register it before his hand shot out, palm flat against the wall beside your head, blocking your escape. You froze, body shuddering from the sudden proximity, but his eyes, dark and intense, held you captive.
Before you could even react, he moved, pressing his body against yours, pinning you against the wall with a force that made your breath hitch. His hands reached up, catching both of yours, pulling them above your head, keeping them there with ease. His body was warm, solid against you, and the contrast of the coolness of the walls behind you only heightened the sensation of being completely trapped, yet strangely safe.
You swallowed hard, your pulse racing, your mind fighting to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that swept over you. You barely had time to gasp before Jeremy’s lips crashed into yours, hot, demanding, tender. It was as if all the tension, all the unspoken feelings between you two, were finally exploding in that one kiss. His mouth moved against yours with a gentle urgency, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer.
The heat of his kiss sent waves of warmth flooding through you, and despite the cool air that lingered around the cabin, you felt like you were melting. His hands, still gripping yours above your head, shifted, his fingers trailing down your arms slowly, reverently, until they landed on your waist. The touch of his skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“Jeremy...” Your voice broke through the kiss, soft, almost pleading, but it was all he needed to hear.
With a low groan, he deepened the kiss, his lips parting just enough to let his tongue slip past yours. The feeling of his kiss, so soft, yet so consuming, made everything else in the world disappear. The only thing that mattered was him, his body pressed against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the dim light of the hallway.
His chest moved with shallow breaths against yours, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart under your fingers as they lightly gripped his shirt. His body was tense, almost desperate, like he had been holding back for far too long. And then, as if to prove a point, his grip on your hands tightened, pulling you closer, closing any remaining space between you.
His lips left yours for a moment, and your chest heaved with the effort to catch your breath. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but the heat between you, the way your body responded to his every touch. You felt his breath, hot against your skin, as he whispered your name, his voice husky and rough with desire.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes searched yours, but there was a vulnerability in his gaze, a question.
You didn’t have to say anything. Your response was clear in the way you kissed him again, more fiercely this time, teeth scraping, tongue tangling, need blooming like fire beneath your skin. You pressed your hips forward into his, and when your body met the hard length of him through his jeans, he snapped.
A growl rumbled from his chest as he shoved your hands above your head again, pinning both wrists with one strong hand. His free hand slid down your side, rough and fast, tugging at the hem of your shirt.
Your breath caught, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, as he yanked your shirt over your head and tossed it to the side. His mouth was on you instantly, hot and open against your neck, trailing down over your collarbone as he fumbled with your bra. When it finally came undone, he didn’t hesitate, sinking to his knees in front of you, hands dragging your shorts and panties down your legs in one harsh motion.
“Fuck,” he muttered, looking up at you, eyes glazed with heat. “Look at you.”
You couldn’t respond. Could barely breathe. Not when he leaned in and kissed the inside of your thigh, slow and reverent like a prayer, just before his mouth found your center.
You cried out, your back arching against the wall as his tongue dragged through your folds, long, deliberate, possessive. He gripped your thighs, holding you steady, anchoring you to the wall with his mouth and his hands and the low, guttural sounds he made as he ate you out like he needed it to survive.
You reached for him, one hand tangling in his hair, the other bracing against the wood paneling behind you, fingers scrambling for anything solid.
When his lips latched around your clit, sucking hard, you nearly came undone right there.
“Jeremy—” His name broke from you, high and wrecked.
He didn’t stop. He groaned into you like he liked the sound of you falling apart, and the vibration sent a jolt through your core.
It hit fast and hard. Your legs trembled, body locking up as pleasure tore through you in a wave that left you gasping and whimpering against the wall. Jeremy held you through it, slowing only when your hips twitched away from overstimulation.
Then, with a low growl, he stood.
You barely had time to blink before he was unzipping his jeans, pulling himself out, hard, flushed, and leaking. He caught your leg behind the knee and lifted it, draping it over his hip as he pressed you back against the wall again.
He pushed inside you in one slow, deep thrust, and the stretch made your mouth fall open around a gasp. You clung to his shoulders as he bottomed out, his hands gripping your ass, lifting you just enough so he could thrust without mercy.
The hallway echoed with the sounds of skin on skin, the slap of his hips hitting yours, the broken moans he grunted against your neck. His name spilled from your lips in a litany, a plea, a prayer.
You’d never seen him like this. Wild, desperate, uncontrolled. His teeth scraped your throat, his fingers dug bruises into your skin, and his cock hit a spot inside you that made your vision blur.
You were so close again, clenching around him, and he felt it; his rhythm faltered, hips stuttering as he buried his face in your neck.
“Come for me,” he panted. “Fuck—come on, baby—”
You did, hard and fast, your body locking around him like a vice, your scream swallowed by his kiss as he slammed into you one last time and spilled inside you with a growl.
He held you there for a long moment, both of you trembling, breathing hard, bodies still tangled and pressed to the wall.
And then, slowly, he eased out, still holding you steady, pressing his forehead to yours.
“We didn’t even make it to the damn bed,” he whispered, a breathless laugh catching on the edge of his voice.
You grinned, brushing your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. “Worth it.”
Masterlist
a/n: first time writing smut because I've literally been terrified to do so. Hopefully it hits <3
Taglist: @imanewsoul @s0urw00lf @bucklebunny8765
Let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist <3
Warnings: fluff! a little spicy if you squint at it <3
Word count: 4.4k (whoopsie)
Masterlist | Jeremy’s Playlist
Tyler Lockwood really didn’t know how to throw a small party.
The mansion was packed — people spilling out into the backyard, the music thumping loud enough to feel in your chest. Fairy lights twinkled from the trees, and the bonfire crackled somewhere in the distance. It would’ve been perfect… if it wasn’t so cold.
You hadn’t exactly dressed for the weather. When you left the house, it had been warm enough for a cute top and jeans, but the night air had turned sharp, and now you were regretting everything. Hugging your arms around yourself, you tried to focus on the party — on the laughter, the music, the people dancing in the grass — but your teeth were on the verge of chattering.
“You okay?”
You looked up, and there was Jeremy, appearing at your side like he always did when you needed him. His dark hair was a little messy, his hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie and his eyes flicked over you with that familiar mix of concern and softness.
“Yeah,” you said, trying to play it cool even though you were visibly shivering. “Just… you know. Little cold.”
Jeremy didn’t say anything — just raised an eyebrow in that way he did when he wasn’t buying your nonsense. And then, without a word, he pulled his sweatshirt over his head and held it out to you.
“Take it.”
You blinked up at him. “Jeremy, you’ll freeze—”
“I’m not the one who’s turning into an icicle,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. “Come on. Just put it on.”
You hesitated for maybe half a second — and then the wind kicked up again, and you weren’t about to let pride keep you from warmth. You slipped the hoodie over your head, and the second it settled around you, your whole body relaxed.
It was warm. And soft. And it smelled like Jeremy — like pine and soap and something you couldn’t quite place but was undeniably him. The sleeves were so long they fell past your hands, and the hem brushed the middle of your thighs. You tugged the hood up, half to hide the fact that you were blushing and half because you didn’t want to take it off.
Jeremy watched you with a barely hidden smile. “Better?”
“Way better,” you mumbled, tugging the oversized sleeves over your fingers.
He grinned, and you noticed the way his eyes softened when they lingered on you. “Told you.”
For the rest of the night, you didn’t take it off. You stayed close to Jeremy — partly because you were warmer with him next to you, but mostly because… well, you just wanted to.
At some point, you ended up by the bonfire. Jeremy’s arm stretched along the back of the bench behind you, and when the wind kicked up again, you felt him shift closer until his shoulder brushed yours and stayed there. At some point, his hand found its way to yours inside of the hoodie sleeve, sending a rush of butterflies through your chest.
“You know,” you teased, “now you’re the one who’s gonna freeze.”
Jeremy smiled, his dimples showing. “I’ll survive.” His voice dipped softer, the firelight dancing across his face. “Besides… you look better in it than I do.”
Your face went warm, and it wasn’t from the fire. You ducked your head again. “Jeremy—”
“What?” he laughed, his knee bumping against yours. “It’s true.”
The fire crackled softly in front of you, and the night air was still cold. But with Jeremy’s hoodie wrapped around you and his hand loosely tangled with yours inside the oversized sleeve, you barely noticed.
Neither of you spoke for a while, the music from the party fading into the background. You watched the flames dance, but your mind was fixated on the way his thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles. Slow and soft. Like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
“You’re quiet,” Jeremy said eventually, his voice low and warm. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
You smiled, though you didn’t look at him. “Just… thinking.”
“About?”
You hesitated, because how were you supposed to admit that your thoughts were mostly about him? About the way his hoodie smelled like him, the way his hand fit so perfectly around yours, the way he always noticed when you needed him without you even having to say a word.
“Nothing important,” you teased instead, glancing up at him with a little grin.
Jeremy rolled his eyes, but there was a soft curve to his lips. “Sure.” His gaze dipped down, taking in the sight of you in his sweatshirt, and his smile grew. “Y’know, you could keep it. If you want.”
Your heart skipped. “What, the hoodie?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, but there was a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. “I kinda like seeing you in it.”
You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Because what were you supposed to say to that? Your face went warm, your fingers tightening around his without thinking.
“You’re blushing,” Jeremy teased, his voice dipping lower.
“Shut up,” you muttered, tugging the hood lower over your face to hide the fact that he was absolutely right.
He laughed softly, and before you could react, his hand let go of yours just so he could tug the hood back, brushing your hair away from your face. “Don’t hide,” he murmured, his voice gentle. “I like looking at you.”
That did nothing to help the whole blushing situation.
You were sure your heart was going to beat right out of your chest. And then, because your brain apparently wasn’t fully functioning, you whispered, “You’re being awfully sweet tonight.”
Jeremy’s smile softened. “Maybe I’ve got a good reason.”
Your breath caught. “Yeah? What’s that?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers brushed against your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The air around you felt warmer, like the fire had crept closer, and you were suddenly very aware of how close he was.
“You should wear my stuff more often,” he said softly, his eyes flickering down to the hoodie you were practically swimming in. “Kinda like knowing you’re warm because of me.”
You were definitely not breathing anymore.
And then — because Jeremy Gilbert was apparently trying to kill you with sweetness — he pulled the sleeve of his hoodie back over your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in the process. “There,” he said softly. “All cozy now.”
You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “Jeremy…”
He smiled — that soft, warm, perfect smile — and his eyes searched yours like he was waiting for something. And maybe you would’ve said something, maybe you would’ve done something…
But then someone called Jeremy’s name from across the yard, and the moment broke. He sighed, his thumb brushing your hand one last time. “I should probably go see what that’s about.” You nodded, trying not to look as disappointed as you felt. But before he stood, Jeremy squeezed your hand. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
“Okay.”
You watched Jeremy disappear into the crowd, your heart still hammering from the way he had just looked at you, the way his fingers had lingered, the way his voice had turned soft and warm like you were the only person that mattered.
The hoodie still smelled like him. That stupid, wonderful mix of cologne and something distinctly Jeremy. You curled further into it, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much.
“Hey, you.”
The voice was familiar, slightly slurred, and way too close for comfort. You knew Matt was drunk before he even sat down next to you. He plopped down on the stone bench, his blue eyes glassy and unfocused. The scent of beer clung to him.
“Hey, Matt. What’s up?” You smiled at his state, knowing he didn’t usually get this drunk at parties. He was usually the DD. It was good for him to have some fun once in a while.
“You’re cute, you know that?” he murmured, his breath tinged with booze.
Your stomach twisted. Maybe he was having too much fun.
“Matt, you’re drunk,” you said lightly, shifting away, but his arm wrapped around the back of your shoulders lazily.
“‘M not that drunk,” he mumbled, a grin on his face.
Matt wasn’t usually like this. Sure, he could be flirty, but it was always in a friendly, harmless way. But this? The way his knee knocked against yours, the way his arm stretched out behind you, the way his words were just a little too slow and a little too bold? This wasn’t Matt.
You glanced around, hoping to see someone you knew nearby, but the party was still in full swing, and no one was paying attention. Even the couple across the fire from you were sucking faces.
“I mean it,” Matt continued, his voice dipping lower. “You look… really good.”
He reached out, tugging lightly at the sleeve of Jeremy’s hoodie. “Even in this thing. What, Gilbert let you steal his clothes now?” He smirked. “Kinda cute, actually.”
You swallowed, resisting the urge to shrink back. “Yeah, well… I was cold.”
Matt chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t need his hoodie. I’d keep you warm if you’d asked.”
This was wrong. You weren’t scared, exactly, but you were uncomfortable. This wasn’t the Matt you knew—this was just the alcohol talking. But that didn’t make it any easier to deal with.
You tensed, every instinct telling you to leave—
And then, suddenly, Matt was gone.
You barely had time to register that Jeremy’s hand was fisted in Matt’s shirt, yanking him off the bench.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jeremy’s voice was low but furious.
Matt stumbled, blinking up at him in hazy confusion. “Dude—what?”
Jeremy shoved him back, not hard enough to knock him down, but hard enough. “Back off.”
Matt scoffed, swaying slightly. “Relax, man, we were just—”
“No,” Jeremy’s body tensed up immediately. His jaw tightened, and his hands balled into fists, clearly trying to contain himself. His gaze hardened as he stepped forward, eyes locking with Matt's. The tension in the air thickened, and his voice cut through it like a knife when he spoke to Matt. “You’re drunk, getting in her space, and not taking the hint.” His entire body was radiating anger. “So I’ll say it again—back off.”
Matt let out an annoyed huff, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Whatever.”
Jeremy didn’t move until Matt turned and disappeared into the crowd. Only then did he let out a slow breath, his hands still clenched into fists.
You were still frozen in place, heart racing—not from Matt anymore, but from Jeremy.
The look in his eyes when he turned to you wasn’t just frustration. It was something deeper. Something messy.
“You okay?” he asked, voice softer now.
You nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
Jeremy exhaled, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
“I was fine,” you attempted to reassure him.
Jeremy gave you a look, and you sighed.
“Okay, maybe not totally fine,” you admitted.
His lips pressed into a thin line. He was still pissed—you could see it in the tension in his shoulders, the way he kept flexing his fingers like he was forcing himself to relax.
And yet, beneath all of that, there was something else.
Something that made your stomach flutter.
You tugged at the sleeves of his hoodie, still wrapped around you, trying to ground yourself. Jeremy only shook his head, running a hand over his face. “C’mon,” he muttered, turning toward the edge of the property. “Let’s get out of here.”
The walk away from the party was quiet.
Jeremy still looked tense, his gaze fixed ahead, hands shoved deep into his pockets. You wondered if he was replaying what had happened—if he was still fighting the urge to go back and deck Matt for good measure.
You hesitated, then stepped closer, bumping your arm lightly against his. “You don’t have to be so mad.”
Jeremy let out a breath through his nose but stayed quiet. Your heart did a stupid little flip. You stopped walking, grabbing his wrist to stop him. “Jeremy.”
He sighed, finally looking at you, his expression softer now, but conflicted.
For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence between you two, stretching out like a wall you’re not sure how to break through. Then, his eyes met yours. There’s a softness in them; a crack in his usually guarded exterior. He opens his mouth, and his voice comes out quieter than you expected, barely above a whisper. “I don’t like seeing guys act like that with you.” The admission, so raw and unguarded, catches you off guard. It’s a side of him you didn’t expect, vulnerable and honest in a way he hadn’t been before.
Jeremy quickly looked away again, staring down at the pavement like he regretted saying anything.
Silence stretched between you.
You bit your lip, warmth curling in your chest.
“You know,” you mused, voice teasing but gentle, “for someone who keeps trying to hide his feelings, you’re really bad at it.”
Jeremy huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
This time, you definitely caught the faintest hint of a smile before he ducked his head, his ears just barely tinged pink.
“Just shut up and keep walking,” he muttered.
You grinned.
And you did.
The quiet walk away from the party took you back to Jeremy’s house, neither of you speaking much.
Jeremy’s hands were still shoved in his pockets, his jaw tight. But the tension between you hadn’t disappeared. If anything, it had shifted—turning into something heavier. Something unspoken.
By the time you reached the Gilbert house, the air between you was thick with it.
Jeremy pushed open the front door, stepping inside first. The house was dark and silent—Elena must not be home yet.
You hesitated in the doorway, suddenly unsure. “I should probably—”
“Stay.”
Jeremy’s voice was quiet, but firm.
Your heart skipped.
He turned to look at you, his eyes dark, his expression unreadable. “Just for a little while.”
You swallowed, stepping inside. Jeremy shut the door behind you.
The air felt different in here; warmer, heavier. Maybe it was just because the outside chill had faded. Maybe it was because your heart was racing.
Jeremy let out a long breath, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck before looking at you again. His eyes flickered down—just briefly—to where his hoodie still hung loosely on your frame.
You hugged it closer, suddenly hyper-aware of how it smelled like him.
“You want something to drink?” Jeremy asked, his voice rougher than before.
You shook your head. “I’m okay.”
Silence stretched between you again.
You knew you should say something light, something normal, to break the tension, but your brain wasn’t cooperating.
Because Jeremy was looking at you like that again.
Like he was fighting something.
Like he was dangerously close to losing.
Your pulse jumped.
Jeremy exhaled sharply and turned away, running a hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t let guys talk to you like that,” he muttered, his voice tighter than before.
“I didn’t let Matt do anything,” you pointed out, watching him carefully.
Jeremy huffed. “I know. I just…” His shoulders tensed, his hands clenching at his sides. “It pissed me off.”
You swallowed. “Yeah. I noticed.”
Jeremy let out a breath through his nose. “I don’t want guys thinking they can just—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “I don’t want him thinking that.”
The air felt impossibly thick.
You took a cautious step closer. “Jeremy.”
He turned, eyes locking onto yours, and that was when you saw it.
The frustration, the tension, the lingering anger from earlier. But mostly, you saw how much he wanted you.
Something in your chest tightened.
You barely had time to process it before he was suddenly right in front of you, his fingers brushing the hem of his hoodie where it hung loosely over your thighs.
“Looks better on you than it does on me,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.
You let out a soft, breathless laugh, your pulse quickening. “You said that already.”
His fingers curled into the fabric, his proximity almost overwhelming. You could feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the lingering hint of beer from the party.
His eyes flickered down to your lips.
Your breath hitched.
And then—finally—his lips were on yours.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant.
It was heat and frustration, all the pent-up feelings spilling over in an instant.
His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as he pressed you back against the hallway wall. You barely had time to react before he was crowding into your space, his body pressing against yours.
You tangled your fingers into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, as his groan vibrated against your lips. His grip on your waist tightened like he was afraid to let go, his desperation evident.
Maybe he needed to prove something to himself.
Maybe he needed to prove that you were his.
Maybe he was done pretending otherwise.
Your heart hammered, and a warmth bloomed deep in your stomach as you kissed him back, eager, breathless.
Jeremy finally pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was dark and intense, something dangerous lurking beneath the surface.
“I meant what I said,” he murmured, his voice rough.
You swallowed, your breath still unsteady. “About what?”
His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer.
“About not wanting other guys to think they can have you.”
A shiver ran down your spine, but you refused to look away, locking eyes with him as you bit your lip.
“And what if I don’t want them?” you teased, voice barely a whisper, daring him.
His eyes flickered, his fingers tilting your chin upward as his thumb brushed over your bottom lip.
“Then you should probably tell me who you do want,” he murmured.
Your stomach flipped, your heart thudding in your chest as you met his gaze, your voice low, barely a whisper.
“You.”
Jeremy’s eyes darken and his hands move to your waist, lifting you effortlessly. You gasp into the kiss as your feet leave the ground, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. The motion is quick, almost instinctual, and you can't help but wrap your arms around his neck, holding on as he walks toward the stairs. His lips trail down to your jaw, kissing you in soft, heated bursts as he ascends, each step a reminder that this is real, that you’re here in his arms.
The warmth of his body against yours, the feeling of his lips moving against your skin, it makes everything else feel distant, like nothing else matters but the two of you. His lips press against your neck, and the sensation sends a shiver through your spine, your heart pounding in your chest.
By the time you reach the top of the stairs, his lips are back on yours, hungry but still gentle. He turns and kicks the door open to his room with his foot, never breaking the kiss. You feel the soft cotton of his hoodie wrap around you more securely as he carries you over the threshold and toward his bed.
As he reaches the edge of the bed, he gently lowers you onto the soft blankets, his lips lingering against yours for just a moment longer before he pulls back. His hands slide to your waist, making sure you're settled comfortably. The bed creaks slightly under your weight, but you hardly notice, lost in the depth of his gaze as he looks down at you, eyes dark with desire, but softened by something tender.
He hovers above you, his thumb brushing along your cheek as he leans down and kisses you again, slower this time, savoring every moment. His voice is barely a whisper, heavy with emotion, "I’ve wanted this... you, for so long."
His hands slid under the hem of the hoodie he’d given you, brushing the bare skin of your back, sending a shiver down your spine. You barely had time to react before he was kissing you again, slower this time, more deliberate.
Like he wasn’t just proving a point anymore. He was making a promise.
Jeremy’s hands were everywhere, his lips trailing down your jaw, kissing the side of your neck as if he were trying to memorize you, claim you in the most intimate way. Every touch sent a spark through your body, every kiss deepening the hunger you felt, the desire you’d never been able to name.
“Jer,” you breathed, your voice trembling.
Jeremy pulled back slightly. His lips moved down your neck, a trail of heat in their wake, and you shivered under his touch. His hands roamed lower, brushing below the waistline of your jeans, his touch careful, testing how far you were willing to go.
The tension was unbearable, but neither of you wanted to break it.
"Jeremy," you whispered again, your voice a mix of desire and hesitation.
He pulled back slightly, his lips just a breath away from yours. His gaze was dark, his pupils dilated as if he were barely holding on. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice strained.
You met his eyes, heart pounding in your chest. “Are you?” you whispered, grinning up at him.
Something shifted in his expression—a flicker of vulnerability—you both knew there was no turning back.
"Yeah," he breathed, his hands pulling you closer. "I’m sure."
You didn’t want to stop.
The world around you faded away as your lips met his again, desperate, fervent, as if this was the only thing that mattered. The kiss is deeper, pulling you closer as his tongue gently brushes against your lips. You don’t hesitate to respond, your breath mingling with his as his kiss grows more insistent, coaxing you into the moment. His tongue moves slowly, carefully, exploring.
The air between you is thick with desire, charged with something neither of you wanted to deny. Slowly, his shirt tugged up and was pulled over his head, and you could feel the warmth of his chest press against you. He pulled away slightly, his breath heavy as he looked at you—his lips swollen from the intensity of your kiss.
His hands slide up your back, this time pushing the hoodie off your shoulders, and it falls to the floor without either of you acknowledging it. His lips moved back down your neck, each kiss leaving a mark, a promise that you would both carry with you.
"God, you're killing me," Jeremy murmured, his voice strained with barely restrained desire.
Your heart thundered, and you leaned forward, capturing his lips with your own, placing your hands on both sides of his face.
You could feel the intensity building, each movement more frantic as you tried to pull him closer, your fingers trailing down his chest. Jeremy’s hands roamed lower, his touch teasing, brushing against the waistband of your jeans before his lips moved to your collarbone, kissing with intent, leaving marks.
But then—
You both froze.
The sound of the front door closing downstairs reached you, followed by the muffled sound of voices.
Jeremy tensed immediately, his breath catching in his throat. You pulled back slightly, eyes darting to the door as the voices filtered up the stairs.
“Do you hear that?” Jeremy muttered, his voice thick with frustration.
You nodded, feeling the pressure of the moment slip through your fingers. His hands slowly dropped from your waist, and the tension between you thickened.
“My sister’s home,” he murmured, his voice tight. “I don’t—” He didn’t finish the sentence, but you could feel his hesitation, his conflict.
You stayed silent for a beat, just staring at him, chest still rising and falling with every breath. His gaze flickered between you and the door, but he didn’t move closer. He stayed a respectful distance away, the space between you now thick with unspoken words.
“I don’t want this to end,” you whispered, your hand brushing his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.
He glanced down at your hand, then back up at you. “Me either,” he confessed, his voice soft but rough.
But the distance between you both lingered, the moment shifting as reality encroached once again. You smiled softly, your fingers brushing his jaw as you locked eyes with him.
Jeremy let out a frustrated sigh, resting his forehead against yours for a second before reluctantly pulling away. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands still gripping your waist like he wasn't ready to let go.
You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lingering ache of want as you tried to sit up. "I should probably go," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
Jeremy's hand caught yours before you could move. "Wait," he said softly, his fingers tightening around yours. His eyes, still dark with unspoken emotions, searched yours. "Stay. Just for a little while."
You hesitated, heart hammering as you looked at him. His shirt was still off, his hair messily tousled from your hands, lips swollen from your kisses. But beneath all of that, there was something deeper in his gaze, something raw, pleading.
Wordlessly, you nodded.
Jeremy exhaled, as if relieved, and gently pulled you back onto the bed. He wrapped an arm around you, tucking you close against him, his bare skin warm against yours. His heartbeat was steady now, a comforting rhythm beneath your palm as your fingers traced lazy circles over his chest.
Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.
His fingers skimmed up and down your back, slow and soothing, as your body relaxed against him. The tension from before still lingered in the air, but now it was softer, quieter. You felt the weight of his arm drape over your waist, pulling you just a little closer.
Eventually, your breathing evened out, your body melting into his warmth. Jeremy felt it happen, the moment you gave in, the way your grip on him loosened as sleep took over.
He didn’t move, didn’t dare disturb the moment.
Instead, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the top of your head, holding you just a little tighter.
"Just for a little while," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.
Masterlist | TVD Masterlist | Jeremy playlist
a/n: I literally have so many Jeremy x reader fics drafted! I want to post them all so badly <3
Likes, reblogs, and follows are never expected but greatly appreciated! These let me know I should keep on doing what I’m doing! (:
Taglist: @imanewsoul @s0urw00lf
Let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist <3
The heat of the summer day was suffocating as Jeremy wiped down tables outside the Mystic Grille. Sweat clung to his skin, and the air felt thick, like he was walking through a sauna. It’s just another afternoon shift, busy as usual with people coming in and out, laughing, chatting, and making a mess he’ll have to clean up. Nothing new, nothing special.
He’s focused on the task at hand, scrubbing a table near the curb, when he notices Elena and Caroline walking down the street, laughing, with Bonnie trailing behind them. At first, he doesn’t think much of it, his mind too preoccupied with the work he’s trying to get done. But then, his eyes land on you.
You’re walking a little slower than the others, gaze not entirely on them, and for a moment, he can’t help but watch. Everything else falls away. He feels it; a shift in the air, in the way his heart starts to beat faster. You’re wearing a cute summer dress, and it hits him like a punch to the gut.
It’s not tight, but it hugs your body in all the right places, showing off curves in a way that feels… different. He tries to look away, but he can’t help it. His eyes keep tracing your figure, the way the fabric swishes around your legs with every step. You’re not super skinny, but you don't need to be. Your curves are perfect; confident, full, the way they were meant to be.
Your hips sway with each step, and it’s almost like you’re moving in slow motion, with an effortless grace that makes Jeremy’s chest tighten. He follows the flow of your dress, the way it catches the light, and he realizes he’s standing there, frozen. He can’t seem to move, can’t seem to breathe.
What the hell is going on with him?
You’re just Elena’s friend. That’s it. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. But the way you walk, the way your hair falls in loose waves around your face, the way the sunlight makes you look like you’ve stepped out of some dream? It’s too much.
He doesn’t even realize he’s holding his rag tighter, as if it could steady him, as if it could make the racing thoughts stop. But it doesn’t work. Nothing works.
You keep walking, figure slowly disappearing down the street, and Jeremy’s left standing there, frozen in the middle of his afternoon shift. It’s like the world just shifted, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.
He shakes his head, trying to clear the image of you in that dress, but it lingers stubbornly, like an echo.
Matt comes around the corner, his voice snapping him out of the daze. “Jeremy, get back to work, man,” he says, looking at him like he’s completely spaced out.
He nods quickly, his heart still hammering in his chest as he tries to get back to his job. He focuses on the tables, on the customers, on anything that doesn’t involve you. But his thoughts? They’re all tangled up in that image. And no matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to shake it.
After a fun girls' night out at the Mystic Falls fundraiser, you find yourself lounging on Elena’s couch, Caroline and Bonnie by your side. You’re still buzzing with excitement from the evening, laughing about the most ridiculous moments, and savoring the peaceful end to the busy night. The house is quiet except for your voices, and it’s a rare kind of calm that settles over you. You hadn’t planned to stay here tonight, but now that you’re here, it feels nice. Comfortable. Safe.
You’re in the middle of another one of those stories—Caroline gesturing wildly as she recounts something from the fundraiser—when the sound of the front door opening cuts through the air. All of you pause and turn your heads in unison.
Jeremy.
He’s just getting home from his shift at the Mystic Grille, and the second he walks in, you can’t help but stare at him. At first, it’s like he doesn’t even register that you’re all here. He’s got his head down, eyes focused on the ground, and his posture seems distant, like he’s lost in thought. His gaze doesn’t meet yours right away, and it’s almost like he’s in his own world.
But then, his eyes shift.
When he finally looks up, your eyes lock. For a split second, you wonder if he even recognizes you. But then something changes. His expression softens, and you swear you can see the moment when his attention zeroes in on you. The way he looks at you makes you feel like he’s seeing you for the first time.
You’re not sure if he realizes how long he’s staring, but you can feel it. There’s this lingering weight in his gaze that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s not like anything you’ve ever felt before, and you’re not entirely sure how to respond to it. You suddenly become acutely aware of everything about yourself; how you’re sitting, how you’re dressed. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks.
You’re wearing a sundress tonight. Not your usual jeans or sweatshirt, but something simple and cute, something you felt confident in. It fits you perfectly. Nothing too fancy, but it’s flattering in all the right ways. And you can tell it’s not going unnoticed by Jeremy. His eyes sweep over you, slow and deliberate, and it makes your nerves spike. The way he looks at you is different, like you’re someone unfamiliar to him.
Someone new.
His mouth opens to say something, but it comes out all wrong. “Uh—hey,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper, like he’s unsure of what to say.
You swallow hard, your own nerves making your voice a little shaky as you offer him a small smile. But it’s obvious something’s off. Jeremy’s acting… weird. Awkward. It’s not like him.
Caroline, ever the observant one, immediately picks up on it. “What’s up with you, Jeremy?” she teases, a grin pulling at her lips. It’s lighthearted, but there’s a spark of curiosity in her voice.
You glance at him again, trying to figure out what’s going on. His face is flushed, his movements stilted as he shifts on his feet. You can’t tell if he’s just tired from his shift or if something’s bothering him. All you know is that the tension in the air could be cut with a butter knife.
Elena, her gaze narrowing slightly, speaks up next. “Jeremy, are you on drugs again?” She questions, her tone sharp, a little too on edge.
Jeremy freezes, his expression hardening immediately. His eyes flash, and you can see the defensiveness rise within him. “No!” he snaps, his voice a little too loud, too quick. And then, without another word, he turns and retreats, practically bolting up the stairs.
The suddenness of it all leaves a strange silence in the room. You blink, not quite sure what just happened, as you watch him disappear up the stairs. You know something’s off. He’s never acted like that before (except for when he really was smoking weed behind the school). He especially didn’t act that way when Elena or Jena had company. Usually, he’s quiet, reserved, but steady. But tonight? Tonight, he looks like he’s fighting something internally.
You glance at Caroline and Bonnie, who are both looking after him in equal confusion. Caroline raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Well, that was weird,” she mutters, but there’s something else there too. Maybe she’s wondering if she missed something, too.
The girls go back to their chatter, but you’re lost in your thoughts, trying to make sense of it. Why was he acting like that? Why did he look at you like you were something unfamiliar, and what does it mean that he’s been on your mind all night?
Later that night, after the others had fallen asleep, the house settled into a quiet, almost eerie calm. The sound of the occasional rustle of trees outside is the only thing that breaks the stillness. You slip out from the warm embrace of Elena’s couch, your bare feet making barely a sound on the wooden floors. The night is still fresh in your mind—the laughter, the joking, the lingering glances—but now, there’s a soft pull toward the kitchen. You’re thirsty. Parched. A glass of water is all you need.
The coolness of the air hits you immediately when you step into the kitchen. The silence here feels peaceful, welcoming. You fill a glass from the faucet, the water glistening in the dim light from the refrigerator. You’re about to take a sip when you hear the softest sound behind you, and freeze.
Your eyes meet across the kitchen, and for a second, time seems to slow. There’s a moment of stillness between you and Jeremy. His face is just as surprised as yours. His usually composed expression is replaced with something a little more disoriented, his chest rising and falling as he stands there in the wide entryway.
The awkwardness hangs thick in the air, and neither of you speaks for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
“Hey,” you say softly, your voice breaking the silence, your nerves barely contained.
Jeremy blinks, clearly startled. “Uh—uhm, hey,” he stammers, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck as he glances at the floor, clearly trying to avoid your gaze.
You step forward, closing the distance between you, your heart unexpectedly racing. “You were acting weird earlier,” you tease, a playful edge to your voice.
Jeremy looks at you, clearly flustered, his face going a little red. “What? I wasn’t—” His voice cracks, betraying his nerves.
“You totally were,” you confirm, stepping even closer to him, unable to stop the teasing smile spreading across your lips. Watching him squirm a little feels almost too good.
He tries to keep his composure, but you can tell he’s struggling to breathe normally. His body is taut, his hands fidgeting by his sides as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. The tension between you both is so palpable, it makes your heart race even faster.
You take another step forward, now standing right in front of him. The closeness catches you both off guard, the space between you so thin you can feel the warmth of his body against yours.
You realize you're wearing one of his old t-shirts—Elena had let you borrow it because you didn’t bring any extra clothes. It’s slightly too big for you, hanging loosely off your shoulders, the hem grazing the tops of your thighs. You can feel it move with every breath you take, and with him so close, you can’t ignore the soft, comforting scent that lingers on the fabric, reminding you of him.
Before you can stop yourself, you stand on your tiptoes, closing the remaining distance between you both and brushing your lips against his. The kiss is soft, tentative at first, a fleeting moment that leaves both of you in a daze. But then, something shifts. The heat between you both flares, and you feel Jeremy's hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, as if he’s finally giving in to the tension that’s been building between you.
His kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, your pulse racing as his hand slides up to your neck, holding you just slightly in place. He takes control now, guiding you effortlessly until he lifts you onto the kitchen island counter.
The cool marble surface meets the backs of your legs, but it’s barely a distraction compared to the heat building between you both. His body presses into yours, so close you can feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest. His strong frame towers over you, his breath coming in short bursts as he leans in, his chest brushing against yours. You can feel the weight of his body, the firmness of his muscles, and the warmth radiating off him. Every inch of his body feels like it's pulling you deeper into the moment. The tension between you both is palpable, thickening the air with every movement.
His hands are strong on your waist, grounding you as his lips continue to move against yours, taking control of the kiss. You can feel his heartbeat speeding up, matching yours. His touch is sure and possessive, pulling you closer as if you belong there with him. Every shift, every subtle movement brings you both even closer together. The space between you vanishes, replaced with a simmering heat.
You respond to him instinctively, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. You let him guide you deeper into the kiss, his lips gentle but demanding, pulling more from you with each moment.
But just as his hand slides up your inner thigh, working your legs apart, a soft voice breaks through the intensity.
“y/n?”
The world comes crashing back. You pull away, eyes wide with shock, as you turn toward the entryway. Caroline stands there, her eyes wide in disbelief, her mouth hanging open.
You glance back at Jeremy, and he looks like a deer caught in headlights. He’s frozen, unable to form words, and the air between you is thick with embarrassment. His hand was still resting on your thigh.
You refused to look over at Caroline. You were flushed, the heat in your cheeks overwhelming. You shift your gaze down and rest your forehead on his shoulder, hands clutching at his biceps. But you couldn’t stop the soft smile that tugged at your lips. You were both in this awkward mess, and yet... there’s something thrilling about it.
Caroline, bewildered but clearly enjoying herself, raised an eyebrow. “Well, this is just...” She grins wide, savoring the scene before her, before giving a teasing wink and turning to leave.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered over her shoulder, her voice dropping in a playful tone. “I won’t tell anyone.”
You both listened to Caroline’s soft footsteps as she made her way back to the living room where Elena and Bonnie still slept soundly, leaving the two of you in the kitchen, the air still thick with the weight of the moment. Jeremy doesn’t move. Neither of you speaks for a long, drawn-out second.
You finally lifted you head from his shoulder and glance up at him, your heart still racing. He looked just as stunned as you felt. His face is still flushed, his chest rising and falling with the weight of the moment.
“Guess we’re not getting away with that one,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jeremy gives you a soft smile, his eyes lingering on yours with a warmth that makes your breath catch. His hands slide to your hips, fingers curling gently around them as he gives you a slow, reassuring squeeze. Then he leans in, so close you can feel the heat of him, his breath brushing across your face. His lips press a tender kiss to your forehead, and you can feel the smile on his lips.
Masterlist | TVD Masterlist
a/n: scared to write smut so this is what keeps happening <3
Likes, reblogs, and follows are never expected but greatly appreciated! These let me know I should keep on doing what I’m doing! (:
Taglist: @imanewsoul @s0urw00lf
Let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist <3
Summary: Three days away, and Jeremy’s acting like you were gone for a year <3
Pairing: Jeremy x fem!reader
Warnings: fluff! <3
Word count: 1.2k
Masterlist | Jeremy's Playlist
You’d only been gone for three days. A girls' camping trip. No cell service, no drama. Just hikes, s’mores, and way too much wine under the stars. It was a short break from Mystic Falls, but for Jeremy, it might as well have been a year.
By the time you pull back into town, the sun’s already dipping low. There’s a bonfire party going on at the old clearing. Music, laughter, the crackle of flames. You wave at a few people as you walk in, but you’re already scanning the area for one person.
Not by the fire. Not by the drinks. Not lost in the crowd.
You know him too well.
You follow the soft trail of memory to the edge of the clearing, past the noise and smoke, where it’s quieter. And there he is, sitting on a log with his elbows on his knees, watching the firelight flicker like he’s waiting for something. Or someone.
You smile to yourself and sneak up behind him, soft steps over dead leaves. Then you slip your hands over his eyes.
He freezes for a split second, then relaxes. A smile blooms across his face before he even speaks.
“Took you long enough.”
You laugh under your breath. “You were waiting?”
“Of course I was. I knew exactly when you’d be back.”
You let your hands fall and before you can move away, he’s already up, turning, arms wrapping tight around your waist like you’ll vanish if he doesn’t.
“Hi,” you whisper, leaning into him. Your fingers comb through the hair at the base of his neck.
He pulls you even closer. “Hi.”
You don’t get much time for words after that. He pulls you down beside him, your legs brushing, his arm locked around your lower back. He doesn’t let go. Not even a little.
“You okay?” you murmur.
He doesn’t answer right away. His fingers trace slow circles at your waist. Then, voice low and quiet: “Didn’t like sleeping without you.”
It’s simple. Honest. A little unguarded in the way Jeremy rarely allows himself to be. It hits you harder than you expect.
You tilt your head and kiss him. Not deep. Just warm. Familiar. His hand curls into the back of your hoodie like it’s second nature.
And from then on, he’s glued to your side.
He follows you through the crowd, never more than a step away. If you move, his fingers brush yours. If you pause, he’s behind you, hand on your hip, or hooked through your back pocket with a smirk that dares you to call him out.
“I’ve got time to make up for,” he says with zero shame.
And he means it. Every brush of his thumb across your spine, every low murmur in your ear, every not-so-subtle lean into your space. He missed you. Badly.
When the fire dims and the crowd starts breaking off into smaller groups, the two of you quietly slip away. You end up at the Gilbert house, but instead of heading for the couch, he leads you straight upstairs to his bedroom.
The door shuts behind you, soft and final. The air shifts.
You drop your bag by the dresser and barely have time to turn around before he’s on you again. His hands settle on your waist, his forehead pressing against yours like he needs a second to breathe you in.
He kisses you again, deeper this time. His hands slide under your shirt, skimming along your sides. He walks you back toward the bed without breaking the kiss, guiding you down gently. It’s slow. Careful. But there’s heat under the surface, simmering.
You fall into the mattress, his weight half on top of you, legs tangled, his lips still on yours. His hand trails up your thigh, fingers brushing the edge of your shorts.
“You have no idea,” he whispers against your skin, “how much I missed you.”
Your hand slides into his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp. “I missed you, too, baby.”
He kisses the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the base of your neck. His lips are slow, careful, but there’s an edge underneath — a quiet urgency he’s barely holding back. You feel his breath stutter against your skin, the way his chest presses harder into yours like he’s fighting the instinct to just take what he wants.
He shifts on top of you again, and yeah, he’s definitely not holding back in one very specific way.
You feel him, hard and insistent, through the thin barrier of your shorts and his jeans. The contact steals your breath for a second, your hips tilting up into him instinctively before you even realize you’re moving.
He lets out a low, almost broken noise and buries his face in the crook of your neck, his fingers curling tighter against your waist like he needs you closer, like even now you’re not close enough.
He breathes out, almost like a confession, "Didn’t know I could miss someone this much."
The words are raw and unguarded, a crack straight through all the stubborn walls he usually keeps up. They land somewhere deep inside you, settling heavy and warm.
Your hands find their way under the hem of his shirt, palms gliding up over warm skin and the hard lines of his stomach. You feel him tense beneath your touch, muscles flexing like he’s barely hanging on.
You pause there for a second, feeling the shiver that runs through him, the way his breath hitches again when your fingers brush higher.
And then, moving slow, teasing, savoring it, you tug his shirt higher—
“(Y/N)!” someone yells from downstairs. “We’re starting the movie! We need your help with snacks!”
You both freeze.
Jeremy lets out a guttural groan and drops his head to your chest. “Why do they hate me?”
You can’t help laughing, one hand covering your mouth.
“I told them I’d help,” you say, half-apologetic, half-regretful.
“Tell them you’re busy. With something important.”
“They’re not stupid.”
He sighs dramatically, flopping beside you on the bed. “I swear to God if they ruin—”
You roll over and kiss his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, just to tease him. “We’re not done. Promise.”
"I'll hold you to that."
He watches you tug your shirt back into place and head for the door. “You owe me,” he calls after you.
You glance back with a wicked smile. “Big time.”
Downstairs, the movie’s already queued up, and the girls barely look at you when you arrive, too busy arguing over popcorn seasoning and pillow placement. You do your best to focus, but you can still feel Jeremy’s hands on you, still taste that kiss.
Ten minutes later, he appears in the doorway, hoodie on, eyes sleepy but still trailing over you like you’re the only thing in the room.
Without a word, he slides in behind you on the floor couch, wraps his arms around your waist, and tucks his face into your neck.
“You’re warm,” he mumbles.
“You’re clingy.”
“I’m comfortable.”
You smile, leaning back into him. His arms don’t move. His grip doesn’t loosen. By the time the movie hits its first plot twist, you glance over your shoulder to see he’s completely asleep; soft breaths, lips parted, face still tucked against your shoulder.
You run your hand along his arm, tracing the shape of his wrist where it circles your waist.
He missed you.
And you missed this.
Masterlist
a/n: requested by @sc4rrc tysm <3
Taglist: @imanewsoul @s0urw00lf @bucklebunny8765
Let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist <3
Summary: JJ wonders why you never go swimming with any of the Pogues. So he takes it upon himself to find out
Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader
Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of drowning/death, aquaphobia, mild swearing
Word Count: 3.1k
A/N: Enjoy <3
Masterlist
You peer into the water, watching the bubbles breaking the surface from where Pope had just dove in, nearly landing on John B’s head. You let out a soft chuckle, watching them play like there wasn’t a care in the world. Kiara was further away from the boat with Sarah, waiting for the boys to follow them.
You wondered what it would be like to swim out here again. It would be nice not to feel left out anytime the group wanted to go swimming or surfing, even though it was a feeling of your own making. Your smile faded at the thought.
Suddenly, you feel your body being pulled from the edge of the boat by two strong hands gripping your waist. Just as quickly, your feet are no longer touching the floor of the boat; they’re being swept out from under you. You feel a body pressed to you and look into his eyes, yours wild with fear.
“J, what are you-” you start, grasping at his biceps, struggling against his strong hold on you.
“Better hold your breath, sweetheart,” he says, moving closer to the side of the boat.
You can feel his chest expand as he sucks in his breath of air and takes a step up. “No, JJ, no, put me down!” you scream.
But it was too late.
The two of you were already falling through the air off the side of The Snapper. You held on to JJ as tightly as you could, your stomach dropping farther than the drop off of the boat (which was even more terrifying because this boat was much larger than the HMS Pogue was).
Your body started to drift from JJ’s just before you hit the water, and there was no air in your lungs. You were petrified with fear. The water encompassed you, and you instantly lost JJ. The bubbles from your abrupt entry into the water surrounded you, tickling your skin. You opened your eyes under the water's surface and saw the outline of JJ’s body already making its way back up for air.
But you were still sinking. Why were you sinking? What the hell was happening right now? You opened your mouth to scream for help, instantly regretting your decision. Water flooded your airways, seeping to the very bottom of your lungs. Your eyes were burning, and you didn’t know where you were.
Is this what drowning felt like? You fill up with water like a sponge until there’s nothing left for you to take in. You tried to move your arms in any direction you could, trying to move your body in any direction. The water was thick like honey, keeping your limbs stagnant. But you still weren’t moving fast enough. You weren’t going to make it to the surface. There was no time left.
The corners of your vision started to blur before beginning to go dark. Your limbs were weightless, floating aimlessly in the water. You felt no pain, no fear. Your body was shutting down. You felt your body jolt upwards suddenly, just before your vision completely faded.
Before your eyes are even open, you’re coughing up water. Aggressively. Your lungs can’t fill up with air fast enough, and the water clogging your airways going in the opposite direction wasn’t helping. Your gag reflex kicked in, and you rolled your head to the side to try to keep yourself from drowning. Again.
“Oh my God,” you heard someone mumble. There were a few sighs, even a 'thank God'. You finally opened your eyes, but everything was blurry. You were blinded by the sun's reflection on all the white surrounding you. You closed your eyes, unable to see anything anyway.
From the gentle swaying you felt, you were back on the boat. Thank God. You rolled onto your back again and took deep breaths, still coughing every few breaths.
You opened your eyes again, seeing a blond mop of sea-kissed curls blocking the sun from your view. You could see the sun rays poking out in a few different directions past his head. It almost looked like a halo around his head. JJ was hovering above you, his hands placed on either side of your head, his legs straddling your hips. He looked into your eyes, worry written all over his countenance. It pained you to see him so upset.
“What the hell happened?” someone asked. Pope. You recognized his hoarse voice instantly. He was somewhere by your head, out of your field of vision.
“They jumped in together, and y/n just never came back up,” Kie said somewhere to your left. You turned your head toward her, seeing how worried she was.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, you know,” you said, trying to relieve the apparent tension surrounding you. Pope sighed as he walked to the back of the boat.
“Apparently, we can,” John B retorted. He was standing next to Kie. Sarah was cradled into his side and smacked his chest lightly, even though she was smiling.
“You never said you can’t swim,” JJ muttered. You turned your attention back to the blonde boy still blocking the sun from you. You gave him a confused look, not processing what he just said.
“You never told us. Why the hell wouldn’t you tell us something like that?” He asked, his voice getting louder. He moved himself off of you, allowing the sun to blind you in his absence. You squinted and attempted to sit up. Sarah jolted forward to help you. JJ was pacing, running his fingers through his hair. “If I would have known that, I wouldn’t have jumped into the water with you!” He shouted.
“JJ..” you started, but he wasn’t stopping.
“You could’ve died! You were just at the bottom of the marsh and-”
“It’s okay, J-” John B started, placing a hand on his chest. JJ brushed him off and shook his head. He grabbed his hat from the floor of the boat and fixed it the way he does so effortlessly. You looked up to try and meet his gaze, but he was looking anywhere but at you. He shook his head again and moved to the boat's cockpit.
You looked down at your hands in your lap, unsure what to do. Guilt washed over you. JJ started the engine and did quick work to get the boat going. John B patted your shoulder and smiled before walking towards the back of the ship. Kie wrapped a towel around your shoulders, goosebumps blanketing your skin as the salty marsh air whipped around you. Sarah and Kie sat on either side of you, wrapping their arms around you. They were keeping you safe in their own way.
You looked back up, trying to catch JJ’s eye, but he was looking out on the water, not so much as glancing in your direction. His jaw was clenched tightly, unwavering as he maneuvered the boat through the marsh.
You felt terrible. Guilt was seeping out of your every poor. You felt nauseous. And your diaphragm hurts, like the feeling you have after you’ve had hiccups for an hour.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before,” you whispered to the girls. Kie scoffed, resting her elbow on her knee and placing her hand under her chin.
Sarah rubbed your back. “It would have been nice to know,” she said lightheartedly.
“I just figured you were scared of sharks or something crazy. Even though they are very gentle creatures,” Kie added. You laughed (or attempted to). It quickly became a cough with even more water coming out of your lungs. You wiped at your mouth with the towel. When you looked up, JJ’s eyes were boring a hole into your skull. He looked away when he noticed you were staring back at him. It was going to be a long ride back to Poguelandia.
You were almost dry by the time JJ had the boat docked. Pope had made his way back to the front of the boat to check on you. He checked your pupils and made sure you didn’t have a concussion. He confirmed that your chances of surviving were almost 100% (because, of course, we could die at any given second).
Everyone unloaded off the boat, JJ being the first to take off once everything was tied down. He walked up the ramp to the shop and sat behind the counter. He took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair again before putting it back on. He was pacing back and forth, checking on random things in the small store space. Kie waited up for you as everyone made their way back to the house.
"I'll catch up," you told her, glancing at the shop and back to her. She gave you a sympathetic smile before turning and following the others. You unwrapped the towel from around your shoulders and laid it across the railing leading up to the shop. You walked up slowly while making sure not to sneak up on him.
But he knew you were coming.
JJ had his back turned to you, looking out on the water now. You could see his chest moving quickly. His hands were resting on the railing. He used his hands to pull his body forward, bringing his mouth to rest on his hands.
“J, I’m so sorry,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. You stared at the back of his head, trying to read his body language.
“I don’t understand,” he said quietly. He shook his head and straightened his back, turning around to face you. You stared at his face. He no longer looked angry. He was upset, eyes red and bloodshot. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes.
This wasn’t carefree JJ Maybank, reckless and altruistic until the day he died. This was JJ, vulnerable and terrified, cracking open right before you. All you wanted to do was rush up to him and hug him. Tell him that it was all just a fucked up joke and that he didn’t need to be worried. He could go back to being his energetic self and not worry about you anymore.
But you knew it was time. It was time to tell him the truth.
You sighed deeply. Before you could form the right words to start, JJ huffed and put on a stern face. He wiped aggressively at his cheeks, thinking that your sigh was a sign that you weren’t going to justify yourself, that you thought he was being stupid and overreacting.
No, he wasn’t about to stick around for that. He started to walk away, trying to brush past you and get away as quickly as possible.
You caught his wrist before he could get too far. “Stay,” you practically whispered. You held his wrist in your hand. JJ refused to look at you at that moment. You took in a shaky breath. “Please,” you begged. JJ sighed and threw his head back. He slowly turned around, and you let go of his wrist. He kept his gaze lowered to the ground, leaning against one of the wooden beams, studying a knot in the floorboard. When you examined his face, you could see the fallen tear trails. Your heart broke in half.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you started. He still didn’t look up. You could see his nose twitch as he sniffled. You continued anyway. “I should have said something months ago. Hell, I should have said something the first time we went out to surf the surge. But I was scared you guys would judge me.” You paused, still trying to look him in the eye. You moved closer to him, your face inches away from his. You gently lifted his chin with your hand, forcing him to look at you. His eyes were red, and his jaw was tight. You moved your hand to cup his cheek. You felt him lean into your touch slightly. “But…I know how to swim, J,” you said slowly. JJ’s eyes went wide, a multitude of emotions wracking through his brain. He started to pull away from your hand unknowingly. You quickly dropped your hand from his cheek and turned your back to him. You thought he was rejecting your touch, his anger unforgiving. The guilt was engulfing you, swallowing you whole. You felt terrible.
There was an uncomfortable pause, the silence deafening. You could hear your own heartbeat threatening to beat out of your chest.
“What happened then? Why didn’t you swim?” He asked you. JJ followed you to the edge of the shop where he stood earlier, staring out into the horizon. You just shook your head. Now, it was your turn to avoid eye contact. JJ was leaning on the railing to your left, and you focused on everything and anything to your right.
“When I was seven, my dad took me out in the marsh. A quick fishing trip, nothing fancy. Some daddy-daughter time. But it all went so wrong. My dad, he…” you stopped, choking on your words. You swallowed harshly. JJ stared at you intently, slowly putting the puzzle pieces together. “I was stuck out there for three days by myself,” you whispered. Realization dawned on him.
You were the Marsh Girl.
Rumors still went around about the Marsh Girl. People said that her dad went out there and killed both of them, leaving the boat behind as the only evidence. Or that the girl pushed him off the boat and claimed that it was an accident.
The news said a girl was found after three days of being out there, but the name was never released, so of course, kids made up stories. JJ’s worry and anger melted away. He didn’t dare move closer to you, afraid that the slightest movement might shatter you into dust, letting you fall between the gaps of the dock and taken away by the murky water below. Instead, you turn to face him, building up the courage to look at him when you say this.
“My dad...he must have had a heart attack or something and lost his balance. I was too young to remember all of the details. But when he went over the side of the boat, he took me into the water with him. He almost drowned me," you took in a shaky breath, reliving the memories in a flash second. "When we jumped into the water today…I don’t know what happened to me. I saw you going back up to the water's surface, and I was just…stuck. I wondered if it was how my dad felt when he went into the water. He could see me getting to the surface but couldn’t make it back up himself,” you stated calmly. You close your eyes, unable to look at JJ. Another second, looking at his shattered face, and you would break yourself. “J, I know how to swim.”
“What?” he didn’t mean to say it; it slipped out before he could stop it. JJ mentally smacked a hand over his mouth. He studied your face to see if you were messing with him.
“I can swim,” you repeated.
This whole time, JJ thought that he almost drowned you. He had always wondered why you never went into the water with everyone else. He figured it was so that you could keep up on your amazing sunkissed skin or because you didn’t want to get your hair wet. He knew you weren’t that superficial, but it still had crossed his mind. He never in a thousand years would have guessed that this was why you didn’t touch the water.
“y/n, I almost killed you,” JJ said, fear seeping back into his every pore. The thought of losing you, especially at his own hands, was suffocating. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, unable to control his now erratic breathing. Noticing his panic, you closed the distance between the two of you and placed your hands on either side of his face. You used your thumbs to gently wipe away the stray tears that fell from his eyes.
“No, no, J, this is not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“I should have known. I should have just asked you why you didn’t ever swim with us. Lord knows I’ve bothered you enough times about going with me,” he dropped his head again, feeling defeated. You gently pushed his face back up, forcing him to meet your eyeline.
“You had no way of knowing,” you reassured him, smiling a little. You stroked your thumb across his cheekbone and felt him lean into your touch. He closed his eyes tightly.
“The thought of losing you…” he sucks in a jagged breath. He won’t let the thought go. He can’t. The images of your lifeless body floating in the water, replaying over and over again like a bad movie montage. “I was the one who pulled you out of the water. You weren’t breathing, and I-”
You quickly pulled JJ’s face down to yours, connecting your lips gently. You couldn’t think of a better way to ground him. To keep him from spiraling again. He was stiff for only a second, his brain not catching up to what you were doing. Maybe you shouldn’t have done this.
Then his face pressed closer to yours, his lips pushing deeper into the kiss. You smiled into him. JJ’s hand moved to your hips, and he squeezed gently. Your hands slid down to his neck, and you pulled back, seeing JJ's toothy grin. His eyes were still red and puffy, but he was smiling. He was downright giddy, swimming in a wide range of emotions he didn’t understand. But you grounded him.
You were his anchor.
“Would now be a bad time to ask if you wanted to go surfing with me tomorrow?” He asked, teasing. You smacked him on the chest and let out a genuine laugh. JJ pulled you into a tight hug. One that told you he was never letting you go.
From the shore, you could hear the Pogues hooting and hollering, witnessing your very public display of affection. But you didn’t care. Nothing mattered now except the sweet, broken boy before you. Your entire world.
Your anchor.
“Why don’t we go ahead and give them a real show,” JJ whispered in your ear. You squealed as he started to pepper your face with kisses.
A/N: I desperately needed to write something happy after watching season 4 <3 This is unedited, so please ignore any typos or stupid grammatical errors.
Likes, reblogs, and follows are never expected, but greatly appreciated! These let me know I should keep on doing what I’m doing! (:
Please check out this post for useful mental health resources.
Summary: Everyone else gets to let go, why can't you?
Pairing: Jeremy Gilbert x fem!reader
Warnings: Alcohol use, supportive/fluffy Jer <3
Word count: 1.9K
Masterlist | Jeremy's Playlist
The Mystic Grille is quieter now, the once-loud chatter reduced to a low murmur. The smell of spilled beer and fried food lingers in the air, mixing with the faint scent of liquor on your skin. You should have left hours ago. Your friends had already gone home, one by one, telling you to text them when you got back.
But you weren’t ready to leave yet.
Not yet.
You weren’t drunk when they left, just pleasantly buzzed. But then you ordered another drink. And another. Because tonight—for once—you weren’t the responsible one. You weren’t the one making sure everyone got home safely, the one holding back someone’s hair as they puked outside, the one keeping it all together.
Tonight, you were free.
Well… sort of.
You swayed slightly in your seat, staring at your knee with deep concentration. Had knees always looked like that? Like, kind of… knobby and awkward? That was a lot of responsibility for a knee.
A snort of amusement came from across the bar. “You good, or do I need to cut you off?”
You looked up—well, attempted to look up—and found Matt Donovan standing behind the bar, arms crossed, giving you the kind of look that screamed ‘I’ve seen this before, and it never ends well.’
You pouted dramatically. “Matty, do you think knees are weird?”
Matt sighed, shaking his head. “Alright. You’re done.”
You huffed but didn’t protest when he slid your glass away, replacing it with a cup of water. He didn’t have to babysit you—he had enough on his plate—but Matt had always been the kind of guy to look out for others, even when it wasn’t his responsibility.
Which, ironically, made you think of someone else.
Without really thinking, you pulled out your phone, your fingers fumbling clumsily over the keyboard. Jeremy’s name was already open in your messages. Your safe person. The one who always had your back.
You: U evr think abt how weird knees are???? Like??? They just bend?? But backward wuld be so cursed lol
Matt was wiping down the counter when your phone buzzed. You squinted at the screen.
Jer: Where are you?”
Before you could respond, Matt leaned over the bar top and caught a glimpse. “Tell me you didn’t just text Jeremy about knees.”
You held up a finger. “Correction. I texted Jeremy about the mysteries of knees.”
Matt muttered something under his breath and quickly plucked the phone from your hand. He shoeved it into his back pocket and grabbed his own phone. “Yeah, okay. I’m calling you a ride.”
You gasped. “Matt Donovan, how dare you betray me?”
“You’ll thank me in the morning,” he said dryly.
You stuck out your tongue but didn’t argue. Instead, you focused intently on Matt as he moved behind the bar, and how his knees bent every time he moved. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips.
Matt only rolled his eyes at you before glancing down at his phone again. Still nothing.
He had messaged the group chat with all of your friends—Stefan, Elena, Caroline, Bonnie, Tyler, Jeremy. Someone had to answer. But the minutes had stretched on, and his phone remained frustratingly silent.
By the time Jeremy pushed open the door to the Mystic Grille, the place had mostly cleared out. The low hum of conversation had dwindled to a few lingering patrons, and the faint scent of restaurant grade cleaner and fried food clung to the air. Matt was wiping down tables, his movements slow and methodical, but he straightened the moment he spotted Jeremy.
His expression was unreadable at first—just tired, maybe a little exasperated—but as Jeremy stepped closer, the flicker of relief was obvious.
“She’s been like this for the past hour,” Matt said, jerking his head toward you. “I cut her off, but I wasn’t exactly able to leave and take her home in the middle of my shift.” Matt glanced over at you then.
Jeremy followed his gaze and immediately sighed. There you were, sitting at the bar, lazily tracing patterns on the wood, giggling to yourself.
Matt let out a breath, shaking his head. “I texted everyone. Not a damn response. Guess you’re the only one who gives a crap,” Matt remarked, tossing the rag over his shoulder.
Jeremy pressed his lips together, something unreadable flickering across his face. He gave Matt a grateful nod, and he just shrugged and went back to work bussing empty tables.
Jeremy walked over, leaning against the bar beside you. “Hey there. Need some help?”
You blinked up at him, your expression shifting from confusion to sudden, dramatic seriousness.
“Jeremy. You don’t understand.” You motioned toward your knee. “Knees are just… so weird.”
Matt snorted from as he moved behind the bar. Jeremy just sighed. “Uh-huh. And how many drinks did you have before you made this discovery?”
You frowned in concentration, attempting to count on your fingers. Then you sighed dramatically. “Too many. I think I’m… intoximated.”
Jeremy huffed a quiet laugh, but his amusement quickly faded as he got a better look at you—your flushed cheeks, the daze in your eyes, the way you swayed even while sitting.
You were more than just tipsy.
Jeremy exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, that’s enough, trouble,” he said, reaching for your arm. “Let’s get you home before you start questioning elbows too.”
Matt gave him a knowing look but didn’t intervene as you pulled back stubbornly, shaking your head. “Nooo, I’m fine. I can totally—totally walk home. My legs still work, see? Watch this.”
Matt muttered, “Here we go,” just as you pushed yourself off the barstool.
For a brief second, it seemed like you had it under control. You even managed one whole step—maybe two. But then your knees buckled—stupid, useless knees—and the floor suddenly felt a lot closer than it should have been.
Before you could face-plant in front of the few remaining people in the Mystic Grille, strong hands caught you around the waist, steady and sure. Your fingers instinctively fisted into Jeremy’s jacket, gripping the worn fabric like a lifeline as the world tilted around you.
You blinked up at him, your wide-eyed surprise quickly melting into something else—something warm, something hilarious. A giggle bubbled out of you, then another, until you were full-on laughing against his chest. “Okay, maybe… maybe I can’t walk.”
Jeremy sighed, adjusting his hold on you, but there was the tiniest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, no kidding.”
From behind him, Matt let out an unimpressed snort, shaking his head. “Yeah, she’s your problem now.” He crossed his arms but didn’t bother hiding the smirk on his face.
Jeremy glanced down at you, still giggling against him, and exhaled. “Yeah,” he muttered, shifting his grip to keep you steady. “I got her.”
Matt stared for a moment, his face caught somewhere between sympathy and amusement. “Good luck, man.”
The warm night air hit you the second you stepped outside, making the alcohol in your stomach turn. Jeremy kept a hand resting on your back, steering you toward his car, but with every step, he could feel your mood shifting.
Your laughter had faded.
Your steps slowed.
Something weighed on you, something heavy, and Jeremy felt it in the way you suddenly pulled away from his grip.
You turned to face him, your expression raw, your hands balling into fists at your sides. You swayed slightly.
“Why?” The laughter was gone from your voice. It wavered, breaking just slightly. “Why can’t I just have fun for once? Why does it always have to be me taking care of everyone else?”
Your breath came quicker now, uneven, your emotions unraveling too fast for you to catch them. You swiped at your face, as if angry with yourself for feeling this way, but the words kept coming, spilling out like you had no control over them anymore.
“I’m always the one holding everything together, Jeremy. Always.” Your voice cracked, frustration thick in every syllable. “When Elena can’t handle her grief, I sit with her. When Stefan falls off the wagon, I’m the one making sure he doesn’t completely lose himself. When Caroline has some new drama, or needs help with some stupid event, I show up!”
Jeremy’s stomach twisted as he watched you unravel.
You let out a bitter, breathless laugh, shaking your head. “And it’s not that I don’t love them. I do. But—” You inhaled sharply, your hand sweeping out toward the empty space outside the Mystic Grille, where no one was waiting, no one was there. “But where the hell are they now?”
Jeremy had no answer.
Because he had been wondering the same damn thing since Matt’s message to the group chat popped up on his phone, and no one else responded.
Your eyes flickered to him, glassy and desperate, like you weren’t even sure you should be saying this out loud. “Why is it only you?” The words were quiet, almost a whisper. “Why is it only ever you?”
Jeremy swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the weight of your words.
You had spent so long being strong for everyone else that no one thought to be strong for you.
And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.
Jeremy exhaled, stepping closer, his voice softer now. “I don’t know why they’re not here.” He was careful, measured, like he knew one wrong move would break you completely. “But I am.”
You blinked up at him, breath hitching.
Jeremy hesitated for only a second before reaching out slowly, his hand open, waiting. “You’ve been taking care of everyone else for so long. Let me take care of you for once, okay?”
You stared at him, unsteady, the last of your walls threatening to crack. And then, finally, you exhaled shakily, placing your hand in his.
“Okay,” you whispered.
Jeremy kept glancing at you as he drove, his grip tight on the wheel.
You were quiet now, your head resting against the window, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.
But every so often, you mumbled something, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to have fun… just once… not be the responsible one…”
Jeremy exhaled, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “You deserve to have fun too, you know?”
You made a soft sound in response; barely coherent. Then, a few moments later, your fingers brushed against his arm.
Jeremy glanced at you, startled by the touch.
“You’re always there for me…” Your voice was drowsy, your words slurred. “Always… safe.”
Jeremy’s breath hitched.
His heart stumbled over itself, caught off guard by the weight of those words. He looked at you quickly, but your eyes were slipping shut, lost somewhere between wakefulness and sleep.
He let out a soft chuckle, trying to push past the warmth spreading in his chest. “That’s what I’m here for, right? To save you from getting lost in your own thoughts… or your knees.”
You giggled weakly, your hand still resting against his arm.
And then, in a barely audible whisper, you sighed, “You’re… my favorite person… I wish I could tell you that more.”
Jeremy’s throat tightened.
He wanted to say something, anything. He wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to say it, that he already knew. But by the time he pulled into your driveway, you were already half-asleep, your head resting against the window, the soft rise and fall of your breath the only sign that you were still alive.
Jeremy took a moment to watch you, his heart tightening at the sight. Without a word, he unbuckled your seatbelt and gently lifted you out of the car. You stirred a little, your eyes fluttering open as he cradled you against his chest. Instinctively, you clung to him, your arms wrapping around his neck as your head nestled into his shoulder, still too tired to do anything but hold on.
He carried you toward the door, your warm weight against him grounding him in a way nothing else ever had. Your soft, unsteady breathing against his skin made his chest flutter, but he didn’t mind. He knew he’d do anything to take care of you.
Anything.
Masterlist | TVD Masterlist
a/n: Loosely based on a night that I may or may not have experienced a few nights ago. Anyways, here's to my Jeremy; my night in shining armor <3
Likes, reblogs, and follows are never expected but greatly appreciated! These let me know I should keep on doing what I’m doing! (:
Taglist: @imanewsoul @s0urw00lf
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