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abbyslovergirlxo · 1 month ago

Text

Same Damn Time

Caitlyn Kiramman x Reader x Ambessa Medarda

tw; Dom!Ambessa, Dom!Caitlyn, sub!reader, rough sex but they’re not so mean towards the end, wlw, sadism (cait/bessa), choking, slapping (everywhere lol), knife usage, blood kink??,masochism (you🫵) , crying, reader has a mouth on her and then folds (typical😒), idk why i made cait psychotic but oh well, oral, degradation, crumbs of praise lmao, ALL SEXUAL INTERACTION IS CONSENSUAL, I am not someone who writes noncon

Word count: 7.8k

… = time skip

a/n; whewww! like what can I even say, this fic is crazy asl. Like I actually think they’re gonna bring back stoning people just for this. Lowkey deserved. But I know there’s someone out there who’s gonna match my freak 😭 i had tooo much fun writing this while listening to the song, made me think of them 😩lots of tw!! so plz read that before scrolling!!! I feel like this is something you’re either really going to love or really going to hate sooo idk. Also I was literally fixated on Sevika/Ambessa and one edit drove me to madness so here we are, getting double teamed by Commander Kiramman and General Merdarda 😩 They’re both evil twins in this but Caitlyn is the more evil twin but no seriously read the tw…. anyways enough of my my rumbling, this fic is long enough lol.

Your ear shot up, body reacting involuntarily to the large grey door opening. Heavy echoing footsteps, hushed whispers, and then a closed door.

“ This is the one?”

The judgemental tone would’ve sent you spiralling, had you been anywhere else. But menacing glares and sharp words would do little for you here. The lights were dim, unfavorably so, only illuminating distinctly right above your chair that you sat in.

Their voices held unyielding authority. Everyone from topside did to be fair but something about these two gave away their status. Their faces were shielded slightly, your eyes squinting in an attempt to see who they were. That attempt was shot down, the small space of darkness they stood in protecting them.

You cursed yourself for not having been smarter that day, faster. For if you had been, you’d never know what the inside of Stillwater’s interrogation room looked like.

“ Yes, General. My enforcers found her near one of Jinx’s old hideouts. From the items that were taken from her we can safely say this one knows something. She knows Jinx. My men attempted to speak to her a couple of days ago but nothing came of it.”

You thought back to the ‘men’ who questioned you, hammered you with prompts that you refused to answer. The bruises on your back proved how badly they wanted to know but you never relented.

“ I don’t know anything.” A lie. A clear one. Both of the women ignored you, tossing back and forth bits of information. You tugged at the shiny metal cuffs, now wishing you’d taken Vi up on those lock picking lessons. I’m so fucked, you thought to yourself. The room was a bit cold and you weren’t exactly dressed for the occasion when they snatched you. So, somberly you shook a little, giving up on listening to whatever they were saying.

You weren’t going to rat. You knew that much.

Your head was hung when you heard them get closer to you. Not bothering to look up, you heard two chairs groan from being pulled, until they sat down from what you assumed.

“ Name?”

Finally you peered up. Your expression faltered for a second, not expecting the sight in front of you. Their outfits clashed and blended seamlessly all at once. One sat in an all black attire, her long blue hair hanging down. The other was engrossed in clads of gold and red.

Sitting right across from you, they both had menacing glares. Well, the glares you expected. Not quite the faces. Shamefully you imagined seeing them somewhere else, maybe in The Last Drop? The younger, sharp features and pinched eyes, looked at you with a particularly hateful look. That didn’t bother you though, she was as intimidating as the drunk men you’d fought with in the undercity. Pretty though, you thought. The other one was a different story entirely.

She was tall, you could tell from how she towered even sitting down. Something about her was elegant. But she looked dangerous. Growing up it was quite necessary to assess who you could and couldn’t take on, and the moment your eyes locked with hers, you knew. The scars on her face also gave way to what she was capable of. She was a problem, even if her stare wasn’t as heinous as the woman beside her.

“ Name?” She pressed. Her voice was calm but she didn’t look like someone who didn’t know how to raise it.

“ I don’t know anything. I don’t even know who Jinx is.”

The blue haired girl scoffed, clearly unimpressed. Her companion remained analytical of you.

“ You’re a terrible liar.” Her voice came off unforgiving and brutal. You’d be lying (again) if you said you weren’t slightly offended. But you kept a neutral face, ignoring her.

“Listen, this doesn’t have to be rough. How this goes depends entirely on you, you choose. We know you know Jinx. We know that you know something. The information you have is quite important to me,”

The older woman paused for a split second, her stare unwavering and promising. She looked over to the younger one before looking back at you.

“ to us. So we’re leaving this room with something, I can assure you that. But I can also assure you that if you help us, we will help you.”

Her voice was smooth, like wine. Well according to what people say about wine, you’d never had it. She was firm in her words, almost as if she herself knew the power behind her promise. That would’ve reassured you had it not been for the fact that she was after your fucking friends.

You looked between the two of them again, assessing the scene in front of you over and over. You were unimpressed, if you were being honest, something you hadn’t been since these cuffs first touched your wrist. Sure, you could tell they meant business but this was futile as an interrogation tactic.

Good cop, bad cop?

While the older wasn’t exactly nice, you expected a missing eye, pulled nails and burnt skin. What you weren’t expecting was two, unfortunately attractive, topside pigs to do a century old method. If anything they should’ve switched, you thought to yourself.

Maybe then they’d get somewhere.

“ Still don’t know who Jinx is or why I’m here.”

“ You’re lying, again. And protecting a known fanatic and criminal. Tell us where we can find Jinx.”

You furrowed your brows, annoyed with her insults and claims. Who is she to tell you that were lying? Well, you were of course. But regardless, the tone in the blue eyed woman before you made you unsettled.

“ I’m not lying.” You gritted out. “ I’ve been detained wrongfully. You’re wasting your time. I don’t know anything.”

“ Yes, you do.” Her voice was firm, final. You scowled at her, but it was nothing in comparison to how she looked at you. Constantly her jaw flexed, on edge and angry. But she had no right to be angry in your mind, after all you were the one chained to a table being talked at rather than talked to. Secretly you wished for the older woman to speak again, at least she wasn’t such a bitch.

“ Are they your friends? Is that it? Because I promise you that we will find Jinx, it will just be a whole lot messier without your help. I don’t mind that. But I’m sure you will.”

You fought the urge to wipe that domineering tone and look off her face. You’re never going to find Jinx! You’re nothing but a power hungry topsider who doesn’t know the first thing about friends! I’m not telling you shit. Was what you wanted to say. But instead,

“ I don’t know Jinx or whatever else you people plan on asking me. Like I said, you. are. wasting. your. time.”

You put emphasis on each word, tired of repeating yourself. But to your un-satisfaction she rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“ Look… I shouldn’t be here. I can’t give you anything because I don’t kno—“

“ Right.” She cut you off, so obviously tired of your insistent lying, even in the short minutes. “And you’re not an undercity animal.”

“ And you’re not a topside pig.”

In all fairness it came out before you could stop it. You weren’t used to being talked to like this and keeping quiet, it almost came out of pure instinct. But if you were surprised by your words you didn’t show it one bit, a small smile almost playing on your lips.

Her nostrils flared slightly, her breathing elevating. For a moment you thought she’d explode before the other woman spoke.

“ Kiramman.”

You memorized the name, not sure if it’d be useful later once you escaped but just in case. She simply collected herself, nodding at the woman who she called ‘General’. Maybe this is where you went wrong, your natural element slipping out, your ego on its way to arriving.

“ You should learn to control yourself, ya know… during interrogations and such.”

“ Shut your mouth.” It was harsh and whispered. This is when you should’ve stopped but you didn’t.

“ You must be new, since you need a supervisor to help you.”

“ Shut it.”

“ You guys have nothing on me. You’re fucking desperate. I’m n—“

Mistakenly you were so focused on Kiramman that you hadn’t been prepared for the harsh grab of your chin. It was quick, unbelievably fast and that scared you more than anything. The strength of which she used to crush your face also attributed to the pit in your stomach.

“ You’ve chosen miserably.”

Her voice was meaner now, she talked as if you were nothing. Like you were stupid. Instantly you regretted wishing for her presence.

Embarrassingly you struggled against her trying to pry away but it was useless. She effortlessly held you there, your cheeks red with humiliation and anger. You tried to ignore the victorious face planted on Kiramman.

“ She said shut your mouth so you shouldn’t be doing anything but that.”

“ Thought you w-wanted me to talk, which one is it?”

You half expected her to break your jaw or lash out like the woman beside her. Instead she remained calm, eerily calm. Anyone with such strength and patience was someone who got what they wanted. But, you weren’t going to talk, you reminded yourself.

She pulled you closer, not without the rebellious tug from you. Silently she analyzed you, staring into your eyes painstakingly long. You squirmed and averted your gaze. She let you go with a ‘hmph’.

“ She won’t talk, not like this.”

The blue haired girl whipped her head towards her, then back to you, a blue fire blazing in her eyes. From the short time they’d been in the room it was clear the older woman held a higher position, authority oozing from her undoubtedly. But now you noticed something dark about the Kiramman that you should have picked up on before.

She was angry, unreasonably so. There was something constantly threatening to set off inside of her.

“ Everyone talks. There has to be something that’ll make her.”

The General hummed. “ I agree, but not like this. She’s loyal to them and she’s prepared for a cell if not this. She’s attempting to use our anger to distract us. She needs something else.”

The goosebumps from the cold air became accompanied by ones born from anxiety. Your mind went into a dark place, worried you’d never leave Stillwater. What if they starved you? Kept you locked in some cell as your body slowly decayed while you still lived? True fear found its way to you for the first time, the unknown overwhelming.

Kiramman seemed to hold back a sigh, instead taking a moment to actually listen to her superior's words. You couldn’t tell what she was thinking but from the firm nod she let off to the General, you knew it wasn’t in your favor. The grey haired woman stood now, making your heart race. Desperately you tugged at the chain once more, attempting to repeat your overdone line.

“ Look, I really don’t know anything.” Ignored.

The blue haired girl remained seated, leaned back slightly, watching silently as the older woman walked around the table. She walked to you with a certain prowess about her. She was taller than you’d expected, to your dismay. You refused to look at her when she was finally standing beside you, face aimed at the grey table.

You pinched your eyes waiting to be hit, choked maybe, or stabbed if they didn’t mind the mess. Your breathing raised as you tried to silently comfort yourself through whatever pain soon awaited. You held back a flinch when you felt large hands pulling at your chains.

It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. Fuck.

*clink*

You snapped your eyes open, seeing your handcuffs now undone.

“ Stand up.”

You took in a breath, silently grateful that you hadn’t been harmed. You stood now, relieved. At least whatever they were going to do wasn’t happening in the now you thought. You looked towards the giant closed metal door, expecting your arm to be snatched as she led you to your dark cell. But to your surprise she simply spoke again.

“ On the table.”

You looked between the two of them.

You shook your head, not even at them, it just shook. No way in hell were you going to lay down on some metal table while these two psychopaths did whatever they wanted to you. You weren’t exactly happy about the bruises that already resided there, definitely not hoping for extras.

“ …No.”

You hadn’t wished to say it but you couldn’t bring yourself to willingly place your body on that table before they hurt you.

“ You misunderstand the situation. You’ve chosen already. So get on the table.”

You didn’t choose shit. That’s what you wanted to shout, to scream at them until your bones betrayed you. A million emotions rushed through your head, clenching and unclenching your hands. Instead you remained silent and unmoving, your refusal to acknowledge was saying ‘no’ in its own way.

“ Fucking impossible…”

You didn’t even have a moment to react to the words before you were pulled. A grunt left your mouth as your hair was gripped painfully. Anger coursed through you upon seeing the black uniform in your peripheral. You used your now free hands to try and pry her hands from you but she only gripped impossibly tighter, your scalp beginning to burn. She was swifter than you’d imagined she’d be, strong too, grabbing both of your hands with one, pinning them. This somehow was worse than cuffs.

“ Fucki— let me go!”

Ignored. Why did they ignore everything?

“ Where do you want her?”

Her General's eyebrows raised, but you didn’t see surprise. Not even disappointment. Content, maybe? You didn’t put it past her.

“ Let's put her on her back to start.”

She moved without question or affirmation. Irritation was clear across your face now, upset at the stinging that wasn’t letting up on your scalp. But clearly the woman behind you didn’t care, roughly forcing you onto the table. She wasn’t as tall as her companion but she was taller than you and it wasn’t an advantage on your part. The force behind her movements were unsettling, you hadn’t thought she was powerless at first glance, but her grip on you was unnerving compared to what you thought she was capable of.

The cold metal wasn’t welcoming. It felt like a million needles were puncturing your skin causing you to shudder. Your tank top strap had fallen off your shoulder amidst the struggle, close enough to slipping down making you wish your hands were free.

“ Give me her wrist.”

They swiftly transferred your hands, the Generals grip matching hers but you could tell there was more strength to be given behind it. You didn’t want to imagine her really trying to squeeze you. The cuffs you were free from moments ago encased you again, and you didn't miss the two extra notches she clicked causing your bone to shift uncomfortably with the metal. You scowled.

“ It’s too fucking tight.”

Not even a pitied glance, nothing. Ignored. Again. You shifted your wrist again, overwhelmed and upset. And this bitch is still gripping my hair, using her other hand to keep your shoulder on the table casually. So easily, and that made you feel vulnerable, helpless. And your now restrained hands weren’t helping, the slight burn making something in your throat want to creep up but you wouldn’t dare allow it, deciding to instead take it out on them.

“ Let go of my hair, you bi–”

You hissed, the stinging sensation pulsating across your cheek. It wouldn’t leave a bruise but you damn sure felt it.

“ Mind your tongue.”

The General ignored the glare you sent her straight from hell, instead taking off her jacket revealing a dark sleeveless sort of top. You couldn’t begin to imagine or decipher the detailing of it, topsiders always dressed too flashy in your opinion, too stuck up. Her arms were as big as you'd thought. Both being ridiculed with scars.

Then, another sharp crack resounded through the dark room, a quick punishing tug to your scalp. This one would unfortunately leave a bruise. You could tell. You didn’t hiss this time, too stunned, on the verge of groaning from the way she used your hair as a plaything.

“ What she said.”

Kiramman finally let go of your hair, the residue of her strength still pounding through your head. You tried to sit up but she instead used both of her hands to hold you down. With only your legs to move, you kicked but the General shut that down as soon as it started. Effortlessly she used only one hand to keep them pinned down, now looking over you and at Kiramman.

What now? You thought. Cut my skin until I fess up? Break my bones until I don’t have any? Beat me bloody while I lie on this cold table? Are they going to kill me when this is all over, when I don’t say anything? I’m going to die here, aren’t I? I’m going to die and nobody’s gonna know.

It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. I can take it. I can take it.

Eyes suddenly squeezed shut, recited echoes of wishful thinking, a scratchy throat. You braced yourself.

“ Last chance. Tell us where we can find Jinx and I’ll send you back to your cell. Untouched.”

Your voice came out a little exasperated, anxiety and anger laced into it. You kept your eyes shut.

“ I don’t know who Jinx is so I can’t tell you that. I don’t know anything.”

Your shoulder crushed more into the table, pale hands squeezing.

“ You continue to choose stupidity, insolence. No more of that.”

Suddenly the grip on your legs were let go and you opened your eyes. She was still at the head of the table staring down at you. For a moment you considered kicking again but as if she read your mind…

“ Kick me and I will break every bone in your knee.”

Her tone wasn’t intimidating, demeaning absolutely, but not intimidating. The certainty in her voice made you throw away any ideas of using your legs. You liked your knees to say the least. You peered straight up to see an upside version of Kiramman, her long blue hair creating a shadow around her neck, her jawline distinct. Even without seeing her face, only the outline of lips and nose, the anger radiated off her body.

“ What now?”

The General looked over you, straight at her.

“ We’ll need to take her pants off for the next part.”

You and Kiramman spoke at the same time.

“ Wait, what? My pants?” “ Her pants?”

The older woman simply gave a one word reply, meant to supply both of you with a firm answer, ‘yes’.

“ Wait, wait.”

She looked down at you, eyebrows raised.

“ Do you remember something about Jinx? Something you’d like to tell us?”

You listened to the flickering sound coming from the light above you. One by one you let them pop into your head. Jinx, long blue hair and wild face as she hugged you. Vi, stuffing her favorite foodsin your face. Isha, making paper airplanes with you. For a moment you thought a tear might slip but it didn’t. You drew in a shaky breath, ignoring the sting on your wrist.

“ No. I don’t know anything. I just…”

You averted your gaze.

“ Is it going to hurt?”

A stupid question in your mind. No doubt torture hurts. But something in you needed to ask, needing some sort of certainty in what was to come.

“ That depends on you entirely. I’ll give you pain when you give me insolence. But when you give me answers, I’ll give you… ”

She suddenly ghosted a hand over your calf.

“ Relief.”

You shuddered a little, her graze unexpected. But you didn’t dare move your leg, not wanting to test what qualified as a kick to her. You didn’t want to imagine what she meant by relief, because it couldn’t mean that. It couldn’t mean that.

“ How does that sound?”

“ It sounds like I have nothing else to say to you.”

She hummed. Without another word she slipped her large hands in your waistband, pulling them down to your ankles. You wanted them back the second your bare thigh touched the cold metal. A click echoed and you looked to see a blade in her hand, small in size but formidable in design. Gold snakes seemed to embroider its handle. You sucked in a harsh breath at the sight, your eyes locked on it.

Your eyes flicked up at the blue haired woman, her position now changed so that you could see her face again. Her eyes almost beamed? For the first time an expression other than anger displayed itself on her features. Now she looked almost… pleased. Excited.

It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. I can take it. I can take it. I can take it. Hopefully.

You ignored the last words, watching as the General kept her eyes trained on your plump thighs. Opening them, she traced it right on the inside of it. Immediately you could tell it was sharp. Too sharp. It was cold against your skin, not as harsh as the table but unforgiving nonetheless. Anticipation rushed through you. Hands clenched within its restraints, the light flickering and flickering, her soft hands on your shoulder, icy metal on your skin, her hand slipping onto your thigh and then….

“ Ngnh!”

Your head pressed into the metal slightly. You’d have been embarrassed by your whimper if it wasn’t for the sudden warm drip down your thigh. Blood, you assumed. You’d been through worse but you still squirmed at the cut now adorned on your skin. She pushed down on your thigh, not fond of your squirming. Then she continued, tracing the blade across your thigh, waiting until your body finally relaxed, stopping itself from that state of bracing. And right when you did, she’d swipe a quick line across your shaky, burning legs. Always between your thighs, always.

It felt like electricity was rushing through you, it was all so overwhelming. You felt like you were being swallowed alive and they had barely done anything. The cuts burned and sent a rush of pain through your nerves and skin. Everytime you looked at Kiramman her face was becoming alive with intoxication. It’s like she couldn’t pull her eyes away, trained on the way your leg wobbled under her General’s hand, how you whimpered lowly, the light trace of blood on the expensive blade. You jolted again, particularly harder this time.

“ Relax. It's just a little cut, you're a big girl.”

It continued like this. You tried your best to stifle the whimpers coming from your mouth. The last thing you wanted was for them to hear what they were doing to you. Over and over she painted your thighs with your own crimson, and it hurt. It hurt, it did. And that's all it should be.

But your stomach kept getting that feeling. It burned, like the surface level cuts she gave you. It burned every time her calloused finger swiped across your sliced skin, collecting blood. It burned when she smiled suddenly, as if proud of her work. And it was scalding when you looked up and saw those blue eyes entranced. But it wasn’t pain. It wasn’t…anger. It was something else. Something that made you want to release that feeling in your throat, made you wish she meant something ungodly when she offered relief.

“ What's this?”

Your skin was hot to the touch now, sweaty. Trembling slightly, you looked up at her. For a moment you couldn’t begin to imagine what she was referring to until you traced her eyes. You silently prayed that it wasn’t what you thought. But from the way she asked, you knew.

“ What is it?”

Kiramman asked, curiosity clear in her voice. The older woman smirked, staring down at the wet spot in your panties.

“ It seems her body is more honest than she is. I think our little prisoner likes this. Her panties say so at least.”

Your face burned so hot that it rivaled the sun itself. You considered saying something, protesting and denying it. But what was the point? It did feel good, the burn felt good. And she had the evidence right in front of her. You couldn’t meet either of their gazes, looking to the side in shame. Kiramman laughed, the vibrations reaching you through her touch.

“ I knew it, she was whimpering like a dog. Isn’t that right?”

You shook your head, still refusing to look. But she wasn’t having it, using one of her hands to pull your chin. Even upside down, she looked menacing. She forced eye contact. Her face was rampant with mocking undertones, sadistic glares.

“ Is that why you’ve been so rude? You wanted us to give you a little pain, show you a good time? You really are pathetic.”

“ That’s not tr– n-ngh!”

A stinging pain after a quick slap to your clothed cunt made you whimper louder than anytime the blade touched you. It felt like a live wire tapping your skin, your legs snapping shut. The wet spot in your panties grew, your breathing uneven.

“ Insolence. Tell the truth.”

I can’t. You thought. Telling them that you’d enjoyed it, even a tiny bit, seemed more daunting suddenly than ratting.

“ I’m not ly– f-fuck…”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever be allowed to finish a sentence, her hand opening your legs followed by another slap coming down. Your eyes fluttered for a moment, your face squeezing with pain and pleasure. Kiramman used the hand she never removed to guide you. A smile was now on her lips, wide with genuine amusement.

“ Oh god, did you just… moan? You really are something aren’t you? Is that what it’s going to take? A few more slaps to your cunt and you’ll be blabbering? Or maybe…”

She lowered herself, close enough that her hair brushed against your face. You whined again, another unsuspecting smack from the older woman. You hadn’t even done anything, she just liked the way your panties got damper with each hit. Kiramman almost thanked her for it, relishing in hearing the noise even closer. She whispered to you.

“ If I make you cum enough times you’ll remember something. I bet you’d like that, letting a… what was it that you called me…a topside pig make your cunt cry?”

Finally, you gave way to the ache in your throat. A tear fell down your face suddenly. Another burning sensation forming in your stomach at the feeling of the General toying with the rim of your panties.

“ Please…”

It was quiet, almost matching the decibels of the wind. But you knew she’d heard it. It was obvious from how her grin widened, her eyes looking like ones of a deranged woman.

“ Please what? Please…make me cum? Please…let me go? Please fucking what?”

In this small moment of time, you almost felt like you were watching your dignity physically leave your body. You imagined telling her to let you go, that you didn’t know anything and a few cuts to your legs wasn’t going to change that. And you considered it, over and over. Then something played in your mind, a sick fantasy woven in desperation. In it, you asked her what you really wanted to. And in it they kissed you until you couldn’t breathe, made you finish until you didn’t know how to walk. You considered both. But only one of them made your core ache with desire. Your eyes were even glossier now. Suddenly you were working yourself up for a new kind of courage.

I can take it. I can take it. I can take it.

“ Make me cum please.”

“ Please who?”

I can take it.

“ Please, Kiramman.”

“ That’s it. Finally something coming out of your mouth other than horseshit. But you still need some manners…”

The grip that had left your ears ringing suddenly came back, her pale fingers peeking through your hair. She pulled your head up, forcing you to look at the General. You groaned, arms thrashing slightly, the sting of the metal never relenting.

“ I’m not the only one here. Go ahead, ask General Merdarda too.”

You gritted your teeth. This was already humiliating, and she was just reveling in it. Your legs were already spread, panties damp, dried crimson on your skin, hands bound above your stomach. You’d already asked, multiple times. And now you had to say it again, with a death-like grip on your hair and those hazel eyes peering at you, awaiting.

“ …but I already asked y—“

The slap was even stronger this time , the force of it driving your body insane. Merdarda grinned at you, even laughing a little at the noise you made. Another tear fell down your cheek but Kiramman was quick to wipe it. Right before she licked her finger.

“ But you didn’t ask me.”

If she slapped your cunt again you’d probably start grinding against the table, somehow making you look more pathetic than you do right now. So you gave in.

“ P-Please General Merdarda, will…”

I’m never speaking about this if I get out of here.

“…Will you please make me cum?”

“ Well would you look at that, that’s all you had to say little one. But what do we get in return? Surely you can’t expect us to make you cum with nothing given back.”

“ …But…I already said I don’t know anything.”

Kiramman scoffed.

“ Even after you soak your panties from a little cut, you still have the ability to lie. I’m almost impressed.”

She let your head drop back onto the table.

“ Almost.”

….

For a second you thought she’d kiss them.

At first glance it seemed so, her soft lips trailed over the red raised wounds, her nose spilling cold air on them. You reveled in it, an ember threatening to go a blaze within you. That was until she nipped at it, a hiss leaving your mouth. You couldn’t see her smile but you felt it sweeping across the throbbing skin. You cursed under your breath, the force behind her bite growing more rabid. She slapped the thigh she wasn’t ravaging, quick and harsh.

“ You like that, don’t you?”

There that voice was again, smooth and sultry. You weren’t sure if she was referencing the strike on your leg or her roaming fingers but murmured yes anyway. Yes to all of it. She had your shirt hitched up, breast exposed. Every once and awhile she’d toy with them, trace an outline around your nipple, wait and then pinch. So often though she found herself distracted, your features giving away how desperate you were.

Merdarda found enjoyment in watching your contort every time Kiramman did something to you, anything to you really. You were like a tight coiled spring, threatening to snap at any given moment. It's like every touch has you ready to risk everything. And you learned quickly they were into this a little more than you, mania clear across their faces. You were trembling, Kiramman taking advantage of how sensitive your legs were.

“ C’mere.”

You felt a little dizzy, seeing her lift her head up from between your legs. She grabbed your cuffed hands, pulling you up to meet her face. It all happened so fast and you winced from the strain in your shoulders. She was closer now and it was just now that you noticed the traces of blood on her lips. You hadn’t expected a kiss this time around, but it happened. It wasn’t gentle, if anything it felt like she was trying to cannibalize you with her tongue. Shamefully you pushed against her, sick to your stomach at how good she tasted. Hints of copper on your tastebuds, her wandering hands. She pulled back, being sure to bite your lip before doing so.

“ You taste that? It’s you.”

She dropped her eyes to your thighs, licking over her lips once more. A trance almost seemed to describe the hunger behind her stare, but you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t care either way, you just wanted her to do whatever was on her mind to you and soon.

“ fucking delicious.”

The whispered lust in her voice rivaled the reaction brought out from Medardas heavy hands.

“ You should taste her General. She’s sweeter than that filthy mouth of hers.”

Wordlessly, she captured your lips next. Her movements were more experienced, methodical and you felt as though you melted into her due to it. Ruby lipstick smeared onto you, a groan slipping from her as she made sure to taste everything you had to offer. The metallic tinge on her tongue made her pull in deeper. You whimpered, dizzy from lack of breath and insatiable roaming hands.By the time she pulled away your eyes were low, an unfocused look about you.

“ I wonder if her cunt tastes even better.”

Kiramman smiled sickly to herself, her gapped teeth giving you a warm tinge to your cheek.

“ We’ll know soon enough.”

….

Your wrist were nearly rubbed raw with all the thrashing you were doing. Time and time again you made attempts to close those abused legs of yours, in hopes of protecting your cunt. Unfortunately, Kiramman wasn’t pleased and she slapped it raw until you cried enough apologies. She mumbled something along the lines of ‘can’t be stupid and greedy’. But you somehow continued to be prove to be both, whining endlessly about the torture of her tongue. She never let up though, only unlatching from you to say obscene things or mark up your poor legs.

It seemed the pair held similar views, sick desires. Medarda would litter your neck and breast with purple marks shamelessly. She smelled of some expensive plant you’d never heard of, all you knew was that it made you whimper everytime her skin was pressed onto yours. She’d whisper siren-like words to you, etched in sin, rough kisses between them all. And yet you drank them into your ears like milk and honey.

“ You just came, didn’t you? Nasty girl.”

“ Do you remember anything now, hm?”

“ Don’t be so dramatic, keep your legs open for her.”

“ You must spread yourself open often. You’re a natural.”

“ Your cunts almost as noisy as you, dear.”

And when her tongue wasn’t making you drip onto the table, Kirammans words were just as wicked, if not more. Her posh accent was a coverup for all the nefarious things laced into it. A very, very poor coverup.

“ I said— keep. them. open. Unless you need a second pair of cuffs? … No? Then fucking listen.”

“ Go on, you can cry. I know it feels good. Yes filthy girl…just like that. ”

“ You’ve made a mess. Say you're sorry.”

“ Quit it, you can get a break when you remember something.”

“ Don’t act so sweet now— had quite a lot to say earlier. Isn’t that right?”

This was wrong, every bit of it. There was nothing exactly right about two high ranking officers of Piltover and Noxus eating you alive in the depths of Stillwater. The thought alone should send you running. It should have you drinking hot flashes of anger, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. But it didn’t. It only made you spread your legs wider and beg shamefully for more kisses.

It all felt so good. They felt so good and a redeemable, rational part of you hated that. But every time rationality tried to sink itself into you, Commander Kiramman and General Merdarda were right there to sink into you faster. And by god, they made you feel more full than any morale.

You were so sure you were going to die before. And that thought that hadn’t been removed just yet, except now you thought you’d pass away from all the onslaught orgasms caused by the ravenous women beside and inside you.

“ a—angh! oh god…pl–please”

Kiramman held back a sly smile, seeing the way you twitched, body so sensitive. Her fingers were drenched with you, now gloveless. Initially her signature black gloves dug inside of you but the minute she tasted you she knew she didn’t want it anywhere but on her skin. Quite roughly, she had pulled three orgasms, somehow each one more intense than the last. But that wasn’t enough, not to them. Nothing was enough until those pretty lips whimpered something they could actually report back. And even then she wasn’t sure she’d want to stop.

“ Are you going to make a mess again for us?”

Pathetically, you fought back the white of your eyes before looking down at her. She couldn’t help but grip your thighs tighter at your teary face, nodding exhaustingly down at her. Medarda kept you slightly upright, your back arching into her bicep while she sucked on your breast. Honestly she hadn’t a clue how long she’d been at it but by the rate she was going you’d look a fucked out mosaic by the time they were done. She laughed to herself but you knew it was at you. And that fact only made you rut against the table more.

“ This is going to be your fourth one dear. We’re never going to leave this room if you keep being so stubborn.”

She trailed her kisses up your chest. A peck here and a peck there. The slow ascend of her affections compared to the rapid thrust of the others fingers made you bite your lip, the skin pulling between your teeth. By the time she was up to your ear you were practically panting.

“ Or is that what you want? For us to keep making you cry until you can’t anymore?”

They’d never know it and thank god for that but you almost whispered a yes.

Kiramman couldn’t hear what was spoken but she definitely felt it. You clenched around her even harder, a long mewl spilling from you. She creased her blue brows slightly as she sped up her fingers, making sure to never be gentle with that special spot, secretly itching to hear just how loud you could get whenever you came. Her counterpart was just as wanting for it out of you, a more balanced desire about her. Even in spite of the way she pulled you in for another kiss when she heard you sob, “ ‘m s-so close..”

This time Kiramman both felt and heard it, her fingers happily accepting the tight squeeze of you. She latched back onto your clit which was practically begging to be consumed again, if you asked her. Immediately you tensed, using every ounce of self restraint to not slam her cheeks with your legs. It also got devastatingly hard to keep up with Medarda’s mouth, she pressed into you like she forgot you needed air, like you only needed them. And as the coil in your belly grew and the sloppy sounds of her eating away filled the room, you did need them.

A muffled moan ricocheted into Merdarda and she invited it wholeheartedly. When she finally pulled away, you used your bound hands to grab at her hand groping you. You squeezed it the second you felt Kiramman offer a grunt inside of your cunt. She licked you like she was rabid, lost in whatever drugs your pussy clearly had laced in it. Merdarda found it all so nasty, so amusing. Seeing the renowned Caitlyn Kiramman so cruel but so feral, and you with your slick mouth gone and lips swollen, made her clench around nothing.

Even if nobody in the room spoke it, you were all enjoying this ‘interrogation’ a little too much. That manic laughter that constantly filled Kirammans head, those stupid pigtails and flashy gadgets, had even subsided for a moment. She still wanted nothing more than to rip that smile off her face, but the way the tears journeyed down your face so easily made her want something more.

Right now all she wanted was for you to cum on her face, and she nearly keeled over when she finally heard you sing that song for her. A moan that could only be replicated in the best whorehouses of Zaun left you. The pair both smiled the moment they heard you whimper what they already knew.

“ i th—‘m gonn—“

You could barely manage a single word, back practically ingraining itself in her arm the way you arched over it.

“ Let it out, make a mess.”

Your body truly was more honest than you and clearly obedient because the second she said it you did. Your self restraint abandoned you, left you on that table shaking and crying. Your bruised legs kissed her cheeks (not so gently) as she ate and thrusted at the same pace she did before, never letting up. Even with your legs shaking and around her she just drove in deeper. The pleasure slipped into overdrive making you shake your head, trying your best to pull away, use your hands, anything to make her stop. But Merdarda snatched your cuffed hands.

“ kira—kirammannn!”

Wow, that’s the only time she’s heard her last name and wanted to hear it more. But she ignored you, knowing you were begging for her to stop. By now your legs had dropped, too weak to hold up. Your whole body practically vibrated as you lost your breath. Maybe it was the burning sensation ripping through you or the cotton in your head but you stupidly turned your head to look up at Medarda.

“ help…me…gonna fu— die!”

First she looked at you, toyed with your nipple as your hands fought against hers. So pretty and so pathetic, she thought. Then looked down at Kiramman, whose eyes now opened and met hers. An amused glint was in her blue tinted stare and suddenly Medarda couldn’t think of a single reason she’d help you.

“ She’s eating child, don’t be so rude. Have some manners.”

She was looking at you when she said it, but from the mockery in her tone you knew it was meant for more than just you. And it was confirmed when a smile traced itself onto your throbbing cunt. But it quickly went away. She was eating after all.

“ i canttt! pleasee!”

Kiramman didn’t stop until you went silent, unable to speak, inconsistent babbles of nonsense here and there. You weren’t even shaking now, just twitching and breathing like the oxygen in the room had been sucked out. When she finally got up from between your legs she couldn’t help herself and gave two quick bites. A strangle mix of a hiss and moan could be heard as you watched her stand. She lifted her fingers to your mouth, shoving them inside.

You expected her to be rough and jam them down your throat but to your surprise she simply swirled them around your mouth. Despite that voice in your head you sucked at them tiredly hoping to please them. And pleased they were. They both watched as you weakly licked her fingers clean. By the time she pulled away they both knew that previous orgasm just couldn’t be the last.

“ Do you remember anything now?”

You were fucked out, but not that fucked out.

“…no”

Thank god, they both thought in unison.

“ I guess it’s my turn then.”

…

BONUS

Kiramman walked with pure candor on her face. She heard the whispers as she walked past but she ignored them. What was the point in entertaining fools? Besides, the moment her eyes met theirs they always went silent. Always. Today hadn’t been the best day for her. Most days weren’t, hunting for that psycho and her friends wasn’t an easy job or a fun one. But she wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Well…maybe someone else…

“ Don’t let anyone in.”

The guard nodded dutifully.

By the time she reached the room, she was already imagining her sweet song. She didn’t have to wait long to hear it in person because it was practically blasting throughout the room the moment the door opened. She closed the door behind her, smiling deviously as she placed her heavy cape onto the chair.

“ She’s even wetter today, if you can believe it.”

She laughed softly, “ Oh I can believe it. How many has she got so far?”

“ Just two. Don’t worry, you didn’t take too long.”

“ God, I know. I got caught up with that fool Salo.”

Medarda laughed now, knowing all too well how annoying he could be.

“ medardaaa”

Your toes curled, struggling to handle the two large fingers inside of you. Both were devastatingly skilled with their fingers but hers were undoubtedly bigger. Way bigger. And if the size wasn’t agonizing enough, she was hitting that spot over and over. This time your hands were free, and you used them to grip her bicep.

Suddenly your throat had a new necklace. Not a very nice one. She squeezed her free hand around your throat, speeding her fingers. Clearly she wasn’t a fan of your interruption, despite the way her cunt ached when she heard her name in such a filthy way.

“ Can’t you see us talking? And you didn’t even greet your Commander. She came all this way to see you.”

You thought you were going to pass out, the squelching sounds and sultry insults becoming distant. Your mind and body gave into her once the resisting clearly wasn’t doing anything. And you loved it. Each filthy posh coated word, lingering touch, rushed collided lips left you undone. The strength behind their hands made you want to never be without it. And for the past two weeks it continued to, leaving you right here in this room on this desk, unable to breath, only able to cry and spread your legs wider.

Medarda let go, allowing Kiramman to finally slip beside you. As much as she loved the song you offered, she wanted your lips. You gasped into her, them giving you no time to actually catch a breath between the transfer. Lightheaded, you still pushed against her, wetness dripping from your face to hers. She pulled away, licked the rogue tear from the corner of your mouth.

By the time she was looking at you, you were heaving, clasping onto her bicep instead of Medardas now. She watched with such marvel as your face contorted into those beautiful expressions, such a drastic difference from the stupid girl she interrogated. Logically she knew she couldn’t call what all of you were doing an interrogation. So she opted to saying ‘some investigating work’ the few times someone inquired about her abrupt departures. It wasn’t a complete lie, her and Medarda were investigating something every couple of days. your cunt

Her gaze traced to the brown fingers moving in and out of you, then to glisten on her General's hand and finally to your thighs. They were healing nicely. Unfortunately for her they wouldn’t leave a scar according to the doctor she took you to. She almost frowned at the thought.

But then she heard you whisper a quick, “ h-hi Kiramman…”

She smiled at you, a warm thought coming to her.

“ Hi, filthy girl.”

We’ll make sure they scar next time.

P.s. They had the officers who beat you killed 😜

1K notes · View notes

dancingbirdie · 1 year ago

Note

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him.

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.”

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire.

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way.

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought.

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously.

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering.

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly.

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence.

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.”

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it.

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt.

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him.

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?”

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder.

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished.

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.”

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror.

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed.

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering.

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed.

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot.

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes.

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination.

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master.

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp.

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain.

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion.

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling.

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face.

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand.

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water.

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand.

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty.

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off.

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze.

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try.

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad.

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her.

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question.

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well.

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly.

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her.

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees.

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far.

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed.

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind.

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years.

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare.

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted.

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight.

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady.

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.”

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on.

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession.

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment.

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face.

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest.

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly.

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.”

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much.

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy.

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her.

She held his gaze, speechless.

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation.

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone.

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him.

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded.

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer.

“This… this is nice,” he whispered.

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response.

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next.

#astarion #dancingbirdiewrites #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion x f!reader #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion fic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic

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millersfinest · 1 month ago

Text

untethered² | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 8.2 k

series: chapter one, chapter two (you’re here!), chapter three, chapter four, chapter five

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, r and ellie flirting/teasing each other, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf, the millers, r is a writer, horndog ellie, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, r is very jealous of cat, hella angst, rich!abby (one of r’s evil exes), emotional cheating (from ellie), repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut, some corny time period song drops.

note: okay, i tried to fit a lot of stuff into this but it was getting too long wink wink. i’ve introduced rich!abby, she’s literally a generational surgeon purr. when i was writing this i was listening to some early 00s music and burn from usher came on… that’s ellie’s anthem ya’ll (for cat) lmaooo. i may not post another chapter before the new year, soo happy early new years to my moots, readers and followers (pookies) <3

After spending an extra hour, or so, with Ellie in the kitchen—laughing under your hands, stuffing bread into your mouths; you set an alarm for 6am. The same time clock that sat on your bedside table from your youth. Surprisingly, it still worked—waking you up with that same traumatic sound it used to for school.

You efficiently got ready; as in, you put on hearty jeans, cowboy boots, and a throw-away sweater because you had an obligation to fill on the farm. Every time you came back home, it was habitual for you to resume the responsibilities you used to have when the farm was your primary residence.

Around 6:45, you met your parents downstairs to begin prepping and planning who was going to go where. There was usually only three of you, but as you hovered over the black coffee on the counter—in your favorite antique mug—the screen door pulled open to reveal a sleepy-looking Ellie Williams-Miller.

She had a thick, black headband pushing her hair back from her forehead, and a low bun. The whites of her eyes were a little irritated and low-hanging, like she was exhausted. “Mornin’, Ellie.” Tommy spoke, rasping slightly. You and Maria parroted him—you standing up straight, instead of leaning over the counter.

Ellie settled across from you, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as a comfort. She rarely ever knew where to put her hands. “Didn’t think you’d jump in so quick.” You commented, wrapping your hands around the warm coffee in your hands.

“The sooner the better.” She shrugged, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Is there any coffee left?”

Before your mother could leap to helping her out, you set down your mug. “‘Course there is. Hazelnut or Vanilla creamer?” You walk over to the pot, not forgetting to pull down a mug from the cabinet. It was offhanded, unintentional—but the ceramic mug you grabbed happened to be hers from the past. An off-white color with her initial on the front in maroon. Ellie used to come over so much, she had her own mug.

She was the first to notice, a blush blossoming on her freckled cheeks. “Hazelnut…”

Pouring the hot coffee a quarter of the way, you added the creamer and dropped a spoon inside to mix it. Ellie wasn’t the biggest fan of coffee, so it was more creamer than coffee. Behind you, your parents began explaining and refreshing the jobs they usually do in the morning. They plan to handle the cows, goats and shipments; while you and Ellie can handle the chickens, horses and garden. “Now, Bug, she’s gonna be taking over your job— so, instruct her well, please.”

“You got it, dude.” You curtly nodded, after making a cheesy Full House joke, sporting a thumbs up. The only person to chortle was Ellie, while her lips were still parted over the side of her mug.

Tommy and Maria put their hands in the middle, slapping on top of each other. “Lets break out—“

“Come on, dad, do we have to?” It was so natural for you to complain at his antics, calling him dad, that you didn’t realize who you were doing it in front of company until much later.

When you were a teenager, every morning your broke out like a team—because, basically, that’s what you were. Splitting to conquer more ground; it took teamwork. “Honey, we always break out.”

Ellie set her cup down, amused. “Don’t be such a negative Nancy, y/n.” She put her hand on top of theirs, raising her thick eyebrows. “Come on, break out.”

Rolling your eyes, you place your hand over her’s. “We’re the Miller’s on three.” You dragged, shaking your head. They all grinned around you like hyenas, and it amusingly pissed you off. One. Two. Three.

“We’re the Miller’s!” They exclaimed, along with yourself. Unable to remove the mirroring grin from your lips.

“All right, team. Let’s get to work.” Tommy asserted with a smile, drinking the rest of his coffee.

The four of you dispersed on the back porch. You scribbling on notebook paper to keep track of your duties. Ellie leaned her back against the railing, crossing her arms, with her eyes trained on your focused expression. “Okay… We’re starting off with the chicken’s— do you remember how?” You glance up, raising an eyebrow.

“Ehm,” She clears her throat, pushing off the railing. “Uhm, yeah, totally. We get the food, right? The pellets?”

“Yeah, and…” You put a hand on your hip, a teasing smirk on your lips.

She chews on her lip, averting her eyes. “Scoop it into troughs?” Ellie questioned, slowly, knowing she was incorrect. The young woman just wanted you to correct her.

“I’m afraid you’ve gotten yourself a bit mixed up, Els.” The nickname slipped from your lips sweetly, but unpredicted. You were both shocked and did a bad job of hiding it. Your lips opening and closing like a gaping fish; Ellie licking her lips, still rocking on her feet. But to be fair, you were friends before everything—it shouldn’t have been weird. “Sorry…”

“Why are you sorry? It’s my name…” Ellie shrugged.

“Let’s just get to the chicken coop.” You chuckle, hiding the nervousness by trotting off the porch. Her name was Ellie, not Els—people who were close to her called her that, and they weren’t close anymore. It was just an example of muscle memory, really.

Ellie tapped her hand against the wooden post, following in your footsteps. “Feels good to be back…” She mutters, walking with her hands behind her back.

“You’re always welcome here.” You respond, approaching the shed that held the chickens food and such. Your fingers worked at the metal latch, pushing open the door. It creaking loudly from the rusted hinges. “Help me fill the buckets?”

She nodded with tight lips, crouching down where you were in front of a large bag filled with their food. You dug for the scoop, frowning at the smell. Ellie had grabbed a bright orange bucket, placing it beside you. Her eyes watching you, intently. Taking in all of your movements while scooping the pellets into the bucket.

Feeling her eyes on you, it was easy to start conversation—transition from that pier of tension. “You looked pretty tired… I hope that wasn’t my fault.”

Ellie hummed, switching an empty bucket with the one you just filled, putting it to the side. “Oh, no, of course not. I had an idea for a sketch… So, stayed up and worked on that.”

You grinned, peering at her. “Hey, the farm’s already workin’, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She chortled, averting her eyes.

Now, that was a clean cut lie. Ellie was a very smart girl—quick on her feet; she always has been. As she stood in that woody kitchen, munching on microwaved biscuits and giggling with her childhood ex-girlfriend… She had realized a fundamental truth. Or, more so, she was considering it. Perhaps, it wasn’t the farm she needed to sponsor her creativity.

It was you. In all of your self-made, manufactured glory. All it took was a glance for her to blossom with ideas—you were her muse.

That’s why she was up all night. She had propped herself on a stool, while her girlfriend slept, and began sketching where the both of you stood—by the shed. Ellie had drawn, scribbled, and shaded until the charcoal pencil fell from her fingers. Forcing her to rest, and by that time it was four in the morning.

Not without covering her work with a sheet, though. Your features were etched onto the canvas, that was too precious and vulnerable. Intimate. Telling.

Pulling her from her obsessive thoughts, you spoke. “Ellie, the bucket.” You bunched your eyebrows, with a tone insinuating that you’ve asked her more than once.

“Shit, my bad.” She stood up, picking one of them up by the metal handle. When she lifted it, she realized that she should consider weight lifting as a hobby—it was heavy. But, you held it in your hands as if it weighed no more than ten pounds. Ellie wasn’t right; the traits of a country girl never left you.

You began to walk out of the shed, toward the chicken coop, which was only a few steps away. “You know, I can let you off the hook if you wanna go take a nap, or something. We have, like, five more days for me to show you the ropes.”

“Really, it’s fine. You know I get a little spacey sometimes.”

“Yeah, when there’s a lot on your mind.” You pointed out, arriving at the coop. Opening the gate, you walk to another, slightly shorter gate to release the chickens. “Your breakfast has arrived!”

You set the bucket on the ground, Ellie doing the same, and you began to scoop out the pellets onto the dirt. They clucked and hopped around, pecking at the small pieces of food littered around. “Is there a lot on your mind?”

She hesitated to answer, dumping the rest of the pellets onto the ground. “Little bit…”

“Well, let this be a release from whatever you’re thinkin’ about. Not a distraction, but a release— it’ll keep you focused.”

Instead of pressing for what was on her mind, you responded with more thoughtful words. The fact that the both of you allowed your closeness to disintegrate or untether; you didn’t have much of a place to inquire. Asking too many questions could lead to fighting—if she were anything how she used to be. And you didn’t want to pry, even though a part of you assumed her exhaustion had something to do with Cat.

Ellie hummed once more, with her hands on her hips, watching you scratch their little heads. “Horses are next, right?” She questioned, blinking at you as if she were in a daze.

You chortle. “Yep. Excited to see Shimmer and Tokyo, huh?” A grin spread across your lips as you approached the gate. You paused, gasping, before you turned back to the auburn-haired woman. “Fuck, I have a surprise for you— almost forgot!” Rushing to grab her hand, you pull her out of the chicken coop. Keeping a firm grip on her palm; Ellie’s lightly holding yours as you pulled her toward the horse barn, glancing at her hand being embraced. It was a little ways so, despite the cool, morning air, sweat beaded between your palms.

But, since she was so enamored by your excited spirit, she held on.

When you arrived, that’s when you released her hand, unlocking the latch. Before your opened the door, you turned toward her faux lax expression. “Shimmer is, now, a mother…” You began, pushing open the door. Ellie gasped, grinning wide like a child before an arcade. “To a beautiful foal Tommy named Sarah.” You introduced coming up on their division.

“Holy shit,” She cursed, still grinning ear to ear. Her white teeth sparkling against the rays of the morning sun that peaked through the wooden panels in the barn. Shimmer peaked her head over the gate once she saw Ellie—like she never forgot about her. Nobody had. “Congrats, Shimmer.” She ran her hand along her strong jaw; the horse nuzzling into her touch.

Her olive eyes peered down, noticing the much smaller foal. Her coat was the same color as her mothers, but her hair had a blonder touch. “Can I?” She looked over at you.

“You don’t have to ask— she’s your horse, too.” You waved your hand. “I’ll go ahead and grab their food.” Leaving them alone, you hear Ellie marveling at Sarah. Causing a chuckle to leave your lips. You pet the other horses—Tokyo, Hamlet, and Ophelia—on the way to the other end of the barn.

Packing the buckets with differing pellets and chaffs, you filled their troughs and opened up their gates. Saving Shimmer and Sarah for last.

You walked over, leaning against the open gate. Sarah had nestled between Ellie’s crossed legs as she sat in the hay. Leaning into her gentle caresses. “I’m assuming she’s named after Joel’s daughter?” She asked, looking up at you from the ground.

“You assumed right.” You nodded, pressing your lips into a line.

“Does Joel know?”

“Not yet. It was a surprise for both of you.” You told, taking the liberty to join her on the ground. “I’m sure Tommy’ll say somethin’ by the end of the day.” Your fingers nestle through her course blonde hair. She was only about a week old, and the softness of her hair was already leaving. A sigh falls from your lips, glancing up at your old friend. Her eyes were already trained on your features, intently. Like she was trying to remember the intricacies of your face. “You think he’ll like it? Naming Shimmer’s baby after her?”

Ellie blinked, running her tongue over hr lips. “Uh, yeah— I think he’ll love it.” She chuckled, boyishly. The side of her lips curling up, as her eyes cast back toward the happy foal. “He’d probably want pictures of her everyday…”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind taking the pictures…”

“I sure as hell wouldn’t.” She affirmed. “If I didn’t, he’d blow up my cell.”

You laughed, backing up against the wall, leaning your head back as you peered at her. “He would wouldn’t he?”

A pair of footsteps caught your attention, and for a moment you thought it was your parents. You prepared to get up, but a new face came around the corner. Her brown eyes were sleepy, and she still was dressed in her pajamas. Hay clinging to the hem of her plaid pajama pants. “I was told that I’d find you here…” She spoke, mostly to the auburn-haired woman beside you.

“Mornin’,” You smiled, awkwardly. Standing up from where you sat. Cat smiled at you, but her eyes quickly moved back to Ellie.

“Ellie, can we talk?” She softly asked, fiddling with her fingers.

From the ground, she sighed, unmoving. “I’m kind of busy… Can it wait?” Ellie lifted her eyebrows, squinting at her girlfriend because of the sun’s rays. Her olive eyes practically glowing as the sun reflected through them.

“No. It can’t wait.”

“I can step out…” You offered, placing a hand on Shimmer. “She’s missing out on some grazing time, anyway.”

“No, it’s fine.” “Thanks,” Both Ellie and Cat spoke, causing you to pause in your steps. You bunched your eyebrows at Ellie, making an expression that read: talk to her! Ignoring the pleas of her beautiful features, you pulled Shimmer from her space. Leaving the two to talk.

It was always about saving face for you—you didn’t want to give the wrong impression to Cat. It was obvious that she knew about your past; you hoped that she did. Maybe, in a possessive way—in a way of I know her more than you. Or, in a way of context. That was something you were still trying to figure out.

Either way, your feelings for Ellie was private; something you were battling, as if it were a disease. Because it was wrong to hold onto a fragment of a memory—loving someone who was taken. It was childish. Letting them talk was putting a leash on yourself. There was nothing like some good ol’ fashioned self control.

While you contemplated, watching the horses meander around, getting their fresh air—conversation happened in the barn. Around the innocent, nuzzling foal, Sarah. “I just wanted to let you know… That I’m not mad at you.” Cat spoke, genuinely, leaning against the wooden gate. Her voice was firm and far from soft. “You know how I can get easily overwhelmed—“

“Cat, overwhelmed? You got pissed with me because I was asking her questions. That’s it.” Ellie retorted, narrowing her eyes. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her in fucking years. Do you expect me not to be interested in what she’s doing?”

“Okay, Ellie. My fucking bad!” She slapped her hands against her legs. “My bad for considering your history with each other— I’m being a jealous bitch. There. I said it for you.” Her arms crossed over her chest. “Can we just stop acting weird? I don’t wanna fight. Not here.”

Ellie allowed Sarah to stand, walking from her space to where her mother was. Around the corner, entertaining you, although your peeving ear was open to their conversation. Even though, you couldn’t hear much.

She stood up, dusting herself off. “I’d never call you a jealous bitch…” Ellie muttered, approaching her, settling her hands on her jaw. “You have nothing to worry about, kitty Cat.” She spoke like a wish, leaning into the place a chaste kiss on her lips. Cat had shut her eyes, not noticing the glance Ellie made out the open barn doors at you—the back of you. Just before her lips met hers. She tried to keep Ellie, moving her lips against hers, but she pulled away, swiftly. “I have to get back to work, all right. No hard feelings?”

She sighed, pouting. “None at all… See you later?” Cat wondered, letting her hands drift down to her belted hips.

“See you later.” She smiled, pulling away from her.

Cat left the barn, waving at you on her way out. “See you, y/n!” She waved, wiggling her fingers. Her voice was sweet, but for some reason you didn’t like how smooth your name came from her mouth. But, regardless, you smiled back.

Ellie emerged from the barn with her hands in her pockets. She stopped where you were, watching the horses—mainly Sarah. “How’d it go?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You remember Dina and Jesse, right?” She changed the subject.

You scrunched your eyebrows at the random question, peering over at her. “Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“They’re going to a bar later… The Tipsy Bison, If you wanna—“

“Oh, I don’t know.” You interrupt, shaking your head. Chewing on your bottom lip, keeping your eyes trained on the trotting horses. The moment the relationship between you and Ellie was severed; that severed whatever bond you had with them. Jesse tried to stay in contact passively—when MySpace came out, he friended you. However, Dina was nowhere to be found. She must’ve hated your guts, right?

“What? You don’t drink either?” She chuckled, covering her nervousness.

Pressing your lips together, you narrowed your eyes at her. “It’s been too long…” You shook your head. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” She drawled, like a youthful plea.

“This is peer pressuring. Did we not learn about this is school?” Your feet carried you away from the horses, toward the garden. She followed after you with a sickening grin.

You pulled out your checklist, checking off the box by chickens and horses—clicking your pen with a smirk on your face. “Peer pressure… Shmeer Shressher.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Ellie, I don’t know. I might have something to write for my editor— let me think about it.” You made up an excuse on the spot, but it wouldn’t be a surprise if you opened up your email to see several messages from Isa Raymond.

“Don’t tell me you’re a workaholic, too?”

“I’m not.”

“Kind of seems like it.” Ellie shrugged.

You hit her arm with the back of your hand. “Whatever, Ellie. Think what you want.” The both of you arrive at the greenhouse. It smells of fresh soil and misty air—fairly comforting. When you were younger, it was the second best part of the farm for you. The horse barn being the first, of course. “This part is the simplest; just make sure all the veggies and plants are watered accordingly.”

You pick up a gallon half-full tin watering can, handing it to her. She took it from you with both hands, fingers grazing, lightly. “Oh, shit— I wasn’t paying attention with the horses. What do you feed ‘em?” Ellis began to stroll down the aisles, watering the soil.

“No worries, it seemed important.” You shrugged, mentioning the conversation between her and Cat. “I’ll just show you on the way back. It’s pretty simple— woah, not too much!” You place a hand on her wrist. She was pouring too much water into one of the potted plants. Her eyes locked onto yours, opened wide. “Sorry, I should’ve said this before… The potted plants need less water than the veggies.” She kept looking at you, the ends of her lips curling. “Carry on,” You urged, walking past her—in front of her, holding your own hands in front of you.

She couldn’t help but watch you go—hell, that’s all she’s been doing since she saw you. Watching. There was nothing wrong with that. Even if her eyes drifted to the way your hips were hugged in the jeans your wore. The sliver of skin that exposed when you bent down, or crouched, or even swayed your hips.

“So…” Ellie began, heading to your word and carefully watering. “Are you seeing anyone in Manhattan?” She asked, shamelessly with a perked eyebrow.

You pivoted, leaning your back against one of the aisles of vegetation. “Off and on…” Shrugging, you surprised yourself with how quickly you responded. “Dating in New York is like setting yourself on fire… And I don’t like getting burned.” You pursed your lips, flickering your eyes from her and the tomato’s. “Why? Is there someone you’d wanna set me up with—? I could use the help.” You joke, beginning to fiddle with the waxy leaves.

She snickered, approaching you with the tin watering can. Pouring nutrient liquid onto the carrot sprouts. “Dina, maybe?”

“Awe, you’re so funny.” You clap your hands together, sarcastically, leaning your chin on your hand.

“If you come out tonight, you can see just how funny I am.” She set the can down.

“I don’t have to go to a bar to see how funny you are. I’m laughing right now, aren’t I?” You mock a fake laugh, pointing at your mouth. Ha Ha. Ha Ha.

Wrapping your hands around the handle of the watering can, you pulled it from her to take over her job. “Just come, y/n! Wouldn’t it be nice to get the gang back together?”

A scoff fell from your lips. “It’s been a while since the gang was together, Ellie.” Occupying your attention with plants you watering. You fought to fight the frown attempting to grow on your lips, pressing them together and turning your body enough for her not to notice.

Ellie dragged her feet, following you. “It’s been eight years…”

Sighing, you slightly slam the can down, not enough to make a fuss but enough to signal your irritation. “Have you forgotten about what happened eight years ago?” You questioned, sternly.

She paused, inhaling, sharply. Ellie scratched her jaw, nodding her head. “Nope.” While she was taken aback by your sudden sternness; there was something that excited her about that pinched look on your face. The auburn-haired young woman has grown a lot since her youth.

“Okay, then.” You pouted. “Let’s just wrap this up, so we can reconvene with my parents— make sure all this stuff is done.”

And that’s exactly what the both of you did. The jokes and silly conversation ceased, and you basically finished in awkward silence. On the way back to the house, you showed her which foods to give to which horse, clinically. That playful look on your face was replaced with the one that exposed your unnerved feeling—from the horrifying mention of what happened eight years ago.

At the front porch, the pair of you separated. She waved a fiddly hand, peering over her shoulder as she walked back to the guesthouse. With a pair of shoulders that were slumped lower than they were from the morning.

Ellie didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—she should’ve never pushed you to hang out with her later. Perhaps, she got too comfortable too fast; but that’s just the type of person you were. Easily acclimatizing. It didn’t matter how much space could be between you and another person—you always found a way with making them feel at home. However, when you pull back, it’s a cold feeling. She just wanted to look at you some more, talk to you some more; be around you some more. Ellie couldn’t deny how refreshing it was.

You met with your parents assuring them that everything was done. They asked about Ellie, but you said she took all the information fine. She’ll probably just need a few days to really lock it in—but, you couldn’t stay long to chat. It was about nine in the morning, and you had to check your email and cell for messages.

First, you showered to get the smell of animal off of you. As much as you loved them, the stench was awful and you’d rather die than let it get stuck to the comforter of your bed. Then, you hopped onto your reading nook, and began going through your emails.

Scroll, scroll, Isa Raymond. Scroll, scroll, Frank St. James… Frank St. James—that was your editor! “Fuck,” You swore under your breath, clicking the bolded words, your heart grew nervous. What if he didn’t like it? You always took criticism much harder when writing the essay’s for your book because everything comes from your experience—your spirit.

Your eyes panned over the words, seeing nothing but: phenomenal, and powerful, and effective, and most importantly, this will be the perfect addition to your bigger work. “Fuck, yeah!” You shouted, pumping your fist in the air.

A head peaked through your door, dark brown hair crowded with grays, and aged brown eyes. “Are we celebrating somethin’?”

Looking up, you smile at Joel, pushing your laptop to the side. “Yeah, actually. One of my chapters got approved by my editor.” You sighed, happily.

“Looks like that book really is comin’ along…” Joel hummed, sporting a proud look on his face. “Good thing Ellie and I made some breakfast— hot and ready! Do your parents have any champagne, so we can celebrate with some mimosa’s?”

Standing to your feet, you waved a hand. “It’s not that serious, Joel.” You chuckle, letting your hands rest on your hips.

“You think mimosa’s are serious? Whew, you need to come back home more often.” He joked, leaning on the threshold of your door.

Rolling your eyes, playfully, a chuckle leaves your throat. He was always so supportive. For a moment you though you lost the opportunity to see that side of him a long time ago. “There might be some in the fridge… And some cranberry juice.” He nodded, pumping his fist—him and Ellie were so much alike. “Give me, like, five minutes and I’ll be down. I have to respond to some messages.”

“Of course, workin’ girl. But don’t let your mimosa get warm… Or your food get cold— we worked hard on it.”

“I won’t.” You smiled, watching him leave your door. Quickly, you pulled out your cell, checking your messages. Some complaining messages from Sierra, Isa Raymond complimenting you—which she didn’t do often—and, a message from a past love interest, Abby Anderson.

Abs: I’m gonna be in your hometown for a few days, seeing some friends. We’re going to a bar later, you should come!

You hesitate to respond, but you do.

You: Oh, nice! Which bar?

There weren’t many bars where you came from, it was fairly small. But, you were getting an inkling that it was the same bar Ellie had invited you to—the Tipsy Bison.

Abs: Tipsy Bison, I believe.

You: I’m totally in. Could definitely use a drink right now.

Abs: Want me to come by and pick you up? I drove the Jaguar ;)

You: As tempting as that sounds, I already have a ride. See you then, Abby.

You slapped your phone shut to meander downstairs to the breakfast that awaited you. On a hot plate, made by Joel and Ellie themselves—which, typically, was delicious. They were both wonderful cooks.

Stepping down the stairs, you heard a sound come from your silver cell. You flipped it open with a sigh, seeing Abs highlighted by a green line.

Abs: Oh, damn… Abby. We’re not on nickname basis anymore?

You pursed your lips, shaking your head as you reached the bottom step.

You: Be normal about this, because I could’ve said no.

Shutting your phone, you slid them into the pocket of your pajama shorts. To purposefully ignore the rest of her texts until later. Everyone was still building their plates, walking to the dining table—including Cat, dressed in jeans and band t-shirt. Muse. “Joel, where’s the mimosa’s?” You arrived in the kitchen; Tommy hand you a ceramic plate was already plated with food.

“Sorry, kiddo.”

“Bug, the champagne in there has lost its bubbles— there’s no point.” He then grinned. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna congratulate you for the chapter approval!” Your father clapped his hands, causing the others to join in—Maria, Joel, Cat, and Ellie.

You kiss his cheek. “Thanks, dad.” A blush frosts over your cheeks—face heating up like a furnace. “I hope we can get some by tomorrow. Thanksgiving is in two days.”

“I’m actually running downtown for a work thing…” Cat began, setting her plate at the dining table, preparing to sit. “I could grab some on the way back.”

“That’ll be perfect, Cat!” Maria exclaimed, smiling, brightly.

Why the fuck was she so nice? You almost wanted to mock your mother—even though they all just celebrated you a moment ago. Of course she’d offer to get the champagne. “Thanks, Cat.” You gave a toothless smile. A smile that plastered and could easily be noticed as fake by those around you. When you heard a snicker come from Ellie’s mouth, you knew that she noticed.

You shot her a glare, but that only made her lips spread into a wider smile. Toothy. Trying. As she settled into her chair, fork in hand.

Conversation over breakfast was light, and lovely. Slight jokes were made about Ellie’s farming skills, but nothing too much. You interacted with each other by mainly through looks and offhanded comments—enough for your mom to take notice. Nudging you under the table with her leg, but you gave her no mind.

After breakfast, you offered to clean up. And, of course, so did Ellie. You argued for a bit on who was going to wash the dishes, and who was going to dry them—settling on you washing and her drying. Cat took a taxi to wherever she needed to go, kissing the auburn-haired woman on the way out. Maria, Tommy and Joel settling in the living room, which was separated from the kitchen by a wall, catching up on sports. Your mother was oddly into that kind of stuff. Leaving you and Ellie all to yourselves, once more.

“Thanks, Cat. You’re so full of it.”

You handed her a wet, clean dish, rolling your eyes. “You have no idea what I’m full of.” A scoff falls from your lips, slightly curling at the ends. It’s not like you were upset, you were amused—you found her amusing. There was time between the scuffle from earlier and now; plus, you had a bit of a distraction for later.

You lathered the plate, running it under the hot water to rinse it off. “Your poker face is the absolute worst. Some things just never change— be okay with that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Some things never change. You’re still so fucking annoying.”

“And, I remember you also saying… Corny?”

You drop your hands in the sink, running your tongue over your bottom lip. Frankly, you missed this so bad. Meeting her eyes was like the tide rising on a beach—it always happened in way that was intertwining and overcoming. This was how Ellie Williams flirted; she was incredibly insufferable! Her voice dropped an octave, becoming a bit raspier than it already was. You were familiar because, well, she used to be yours. And, like she said, some things never change.

The only way you could respond was by peering at her. Inspecting her. Handing over the wet dish without sparing a glance at the ceramic plate. You watched as she primed her lips to speak. “All jokes aside…” She began, wiping down the plate with a turquoise towel. “I wanna apologize for the pressure earlier— coming out with me.” Finishing up, she set the dishes on the rack, leaning her lower back against the counter. Her arms crossed over her chest, the tattoo on her forearm coming into view—something you didn’t fully notice before. “I totally get the hesitation. Dina can be a… Handful at times.”

“About that…” You dried your hands, wiping the water off the counter. “I’ve actually decided to go. I could use some hometown socializing— and Jesse’s still pretty sweet.”

Her earthy eyes sized you up, squinting her eyes. “Oh, is that who you want me to set you up with?”

“Seriously, Ellie, keep your day job.” You rolled your eyes, fixing everything around the kitchen so it could look clean. “We kind of keep in touch on MySpace.”

She gasped, deepening her eyebrows. “MySpace! I don’t even have you on MySpace—! I’m friends with Jesse, I would’ve seen this.”

“Well, my username isn’t quite my name… It’s BugsWritersRoom, and my icon is a picture of a latte— I can understand the confusion.” You shrug, nonchalantly.

Ellie subtly clenched her jaw at the idea of Jesse keeping something like this from her. It was fucked up to keep her from BugsWritersRoom—Ellie needed to be in on that. Whether she was going to friend you or not. “I’m about to start writing a bit… What’s you username, so I can stalk ‘ya?” The tone of your voice insinuated that it was a joke, but you weren’t joking at all. However, it wasn’t that you couldn’t find her before; you just didn’t want to. Twenty-four hours ago you were keen on keeping your distance—that also meant watching her online.

But, since the rekindling of this stomped out fire, you might as well catch up. And she was planning to do the same.

“StarlighterWilliams…” She muttered, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. You couldn’t help but wonder how she could shape shift from a semi-confident joker, to a bashful blusher within a few minutes—Ellie was one of a kind, certainly.

You hummed, lips curling at the sides. “Still a Savage Starlight fan, huh?”

“Yup.”

“At least all those comics and merch I bought for you didn’t go to waste.” You glance at the tall grandfather clock against the wall, huffing. Before you went out tonight, you wanted to get some words out of your head—there was plenty of time, as it was only nearing one in the afternoon. But you wanted some alone time, too.

She wanted to respond with how she’d never toss the items you bought for her—something cheesy like that—but, you spoke before her. “I guess the next time I’ll see you, I won’t be in old-as-shit pajamas. What are you thinkin’—? 9:30?”

“Yeah, 9:30s fine…” Her eyes ran over your frame. The tight strappy top that clung to your adult figure, and the loose satin shorts that hung low on your hips. A water stain had grown on the middle of your stomach from washing the dishes, and because the shirt was white your skin peeked through. If only it was a little higher—

“Cool. See you later.” You walked around the island, toward your parents and Joel. “If you guys need anything, I’ll be upstairs working. Just call me.” Ellie watched as you bent down to kiss their temples, including Joel from an old habit. She watched you laugh if off, but your pace quickened toward the stairs. Your eyes flickered to hers, a causal finger pointing in her direction. “That goes for you, too.” You winked.

It was like everything was in slow motion as she watched you. Especially, that fucking wink! Yeah, Ellie understood that wink was probably for weed—it couldn’t have been anything else. “I’m getting myself into some deep trouble.” She spoke under her breath, hanging her head low.

“Hey, guys!” She spoke to the three Miller’s on the couch, stalking toward the front. “I’ll be at the guesthouse.” She waved a few fingers, with her mind occupied completely elsewhere. In the gutter, as many called it.

Joel turned around, leaning his arm against the back of the couch. “You don’t wanna see the bets for the thanksgiving game?”

Ellie didn’t even pause at the door, she responded while walking through. “Absolutely the fuck not. You kids have fun, though!”

She basically ran to the guesthouse, leaning her back against the door once she was inside. In short, she was horny. Oh, so horny—Ellie was without a muse in many different parts of her life currently. And, don’t get her wrong; her girlfriend was smoking hot, but she wasn’t you! She couldn’t be happier that Cat was out of the house. So, she could lay her back against the bed they shared, with her pants off and her hand between her legs. Mind trailing with images of you.

Meanwhile, you sat crisscrossed on your made-up bed, searching for Ellie. StarlightWilliams, she said. You clicked and scrolled until you saw her user icon. It was a picture of her playing guitar. Her short side-bangs covered her face, arms draped over the guitar she’s had for years. At least, it looked like that one that you were familiar with. The one you carved your initials into the back when you were sixteen. Somebody had taken the picture, and you hoped to God it wasn’t Cat. That was your first thought.

You were beginning to make peace with the fact that you were an asshole. Your parents raised an asshole who’s jealousy raged in a passive manner.

With hesitation, you clicked the her name. Her account popped up and was coded to absolute hell. Did she do all of this herself? The side panels had a bunch of Savage Starlight png’s floating around. And, there was a silly picture in her bio of Kenny from South Park—of course, she liked South Park.

Her mood was recently updated: Conflicted.

Her bio was very concise: i’m ellie :3. Which is then preceded by a couple music videos: Hella Good by No Doubt and Somewhere Only We Know by Keane.

You found yourself smiling as you scrolled down her profile, causing you to click the friend button without a second thought. Skipping over the photos of her and Cat, which wasn’t that hard to do—considering there wasn’t many. There were photos of Ellie cuddled between Jesse and Dina, looking happier than ever. Some mirror photos taken with a camera in her bathroom. Her hair mussed and choppily cut, but nonetheless, she looked good. Small nerdy shirts and low-hanging jeans, accessorized with studded belts and carabiners.

Hot.

Breaking you from what felt like a spell, your roommate began ringing your cell. She caused you to shut your laptop, and roll all over your bed talking to her. You paced around your room, playing with little knickknacks, glancing out your window to see the view of the guesthouse.

Sierra demanded to know the details about being around your teenagehood ex-girlfriend, and you told her enough. Not the intrusive thoughts about being a homewrecker, but how easily they got along. How the past had only come up once, but not in the way you thought it would. You bickered and joked and teased like nothing happened.

Now, your roommate back in Manhattan, laughed at that. She claimed that she had psychic tendencies, saying: you guys are gonna fuck nasty! You refused, feigning sounds of disgust. That wasn’t the case—that could never be the case. To change the subject, you mentioned Abby being in town, and she grimaced on the other line.

It was girl talk like no other.

After the call, you decided to quit daydreaming over Ellie’s MySpace account and actually start writing.

The next chapter you were working on was following moments after the breakup—the sorry attempts at moving on, college, moving from home.

You spent hours outlining and rough drafting, cursing at yourself because nothing was coming out right. Sooner or later, eight o’clock came around—meaning it was time for you to get ready.

Sifting through your luggage, you threw clothes over your shoulder trying to piece together an outfit. You wanted to look good, but you didn’t want to appear like you were trying too hard. Abby was gonna be there, so you couldn’t slack. And, Ellie hasn’t seen you in anything other than comfortable clothes since you reconnected.

Jeans were your safety, and a black jean vest you were going to put over a white v-neck—not forgetting the leather jacket to cover your arms and a pair of boot heels to give you some height.

You were ready by 9:15, adding perfume to the pressure points on your body. Dressing your lips in a sparkling lipgloss that complimented your skin. With a baggy purse on your shoulder, you clicked your finger on the buttons in your phone, descending the staircase.

Abs: Always so feisty, babe. See you later.

Seeing her message from earlier, you puff a frustrated breath from your lips. Babe. God, that woman needed to pipe it down—it’s like she knew you were gonna give it up, or something. That was actually something you were still unsure about.

When you appeared in the living room, your heels alerted your family to your presence. Ellie leaned against the couch, coolly, swinging her keys around her finger. She wore low-hanging jeans, a plain top with a striped long-sleeve under it with a thick jacket layered on top—probably Joel’s. “You ready to go?” You raised your eyebrows, chewing on your bottom lip—nerves wracking through you.

Either because of Ellie’s soft eyes on you, or the anticipation of seeing Abby. It was hard to tell.

“Uh, y-yeah… Yeah, let’s go.” She stammered, standing to her feet.

Maria sipped on a glass of wine, eyeing your clothes. “You look cute, Bug— for any reason in particular?” She raised a blonde eyebrow.

“Mom, I’m going to a bar… Why wouldn’t I look cute?”

“She’s a single woman in her twenties, Maria—“

“Let’s not.” You wave your hand, cutting Tommy off. “Ellie,” You spoke, subtly pleading.

She nodded, catching the keys in her hand. “All right, we’re going.” Ellie opened the door for you, allowing you to push toward the screen door—the one you held for her.

“Be safe!”

“Of course!” The both of you responded, glancing at each other with semi-stern eyes.

Heels clicking on the porch, you walk down the steps into the gravel. “Where’s Cat? Is she not going out with us?”

Ellie unlocked her truck, clicking the button on the remote in her hand. “Wouldn’t you like to know…”She snickered, peering at you, unable to hide the glimmer in eyes from taking in your appearance. “Her work thing took longer than she thought. She didn’t feel like comin’ out.”

Yes!

“Ah,” You responded instead of jumping up and down, cheering. Getting into the car was a lift, hopping into the passenger seat.

Her copper truck had aged, but had that same old feel to it. Feeling the stitched seats, shamelessly, brought you back to when you were younger—sitting in her truck those first few times. It was kind of claustrophobic and intimidating being this tightly bound to Ellie.

She was less tense, shutting the door behind her. Ellie put the keys in the ignition, starting the car and turning on the radio. Blink-182, I Miss You, played low—the silence between the two of you speaking up. She scoffed under her breath, switching the radio to another station. “Too slow,” The auburn-haired woman muttered.

“I liked that song, though…” You look at her from the corner of your eye.

Hesitantly, she glanced at you, reached her hand back to the number to switch the station back to the alternative one playing Blink-182. Ellie pressed her lips into a line, putting the truck into drive.

The trip was no longer than ten minutes to the Tipsy Bison. A trip filled with radio music and glances back and forth. To occupy yourself, you played Tetris on your cell until you felt the truck slowing down in the parking lot. When she shut the car off, that’s when your nerves really picked up.

“They should already be inside.” Ellie pointed out. She inspected you the passenger seat, rigid shoulders and a clenching jaw. “You look good— great, even. It might be a little awkward, but—“

“How about this…” You run your tongue over your bottom lip, tasting the strawberry flavored gloss on your lips. “You go on ahead inside— I’ll meet you.” Pulling the handle, you hop out the truck. Your fingers rustle through your purse for the yellow pack of American Spirits and your lighter.

Ellie bunched her thick eyebrows, following you out the car. Locking the doors behind her. “What?”

“I can’t smoke inside… So, go ahead.” You popped out a cigarette, placing it between your lips.

“You sure? I feel like it’ll be easier if we walk in together.” She furrowed her eyebrows, seeing the uncomfortableness written all over your face.

“I’m sure, Ellie. Just go.” You avert your eyes, lighting the tip of the nicotine stick. Waiting for that first inhale to calm your nerves.

She stuffed her hand into her pockets, nodding her head. “I will see you inside, right?” Ellie questioned, fearing that you’d run off. Your only response was a released of smoke from your lips, and a pair of narrowed eyes. “Fuck,” She cursed. “Fine. See you inside.”

Ellie disappeared into the bar. You kicked a leg up against the wall, tapping the ash from your cigarette. Who knew what the feelings of one person could do. In your head, you played through every possible outcome of the situation—seeing Dina again. She could either be really sweet, like she used to be, or still be that grudging person that you familiarized yourself after that day.

The high beams of a shiny, black Jaguar came into your sights—blinding you. You hold up your hand, covering your eyes with arched lips. They were so bright, you didn’t realize who they belonged to until she got out. The blonde wore all black in the sleekest way possible—letting everyone know in this town that she was better than them. That was just the aura she had.

Her long blonde hair was pushed behind her ears and shifted against her black leather jacket. The high beams blinked off, as she approached you, pushing up a a pair of black sunglasses over her head.

“It’s dark out. How do you even drive with those things on?” You raise a skeptical eye, taking a drag from the cigarette between your index and middle finger.

“A hi or hello would be a preferred greeting.” Abby teased, lips spreading into a movie-star smile.

Pressing your lips into a line, ashing the rest of the cigarette out on the wall. “Hi, Abby.” You couldn’t have rolled your eyes harder, really. Her strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into her chest. It was firm, but most importantly, warm and comforting. Your arms stretched around her back, nuzzling more into her embrace.

“I hope the cigarette’s the only reason why you’re standing out in the cold.” She pulled back just enough, to keep your bodies pressed together and to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, pretty much.” You purse your lips.

Abby’s hand massaged your tensed shoulders. “Then, let’s get inside. Let me get you a drink to warm you up.”

Ellie already had a drink in hand, and a water for you, unsure of what you wanted. Jesse and Dina had visited her many times in New York—this wasn’t a rekindling. It was just a couple of friends meeting for some beers and a few laughs. Her olive eyes kept glancing at the door waiting for you to come through in all of your glory. And, you were being timed. If you didn’t push through those doors within the next ten minutes, she was going to come out and drag you inside.

As she were about to tell them that she was going to get you, threatening Dina to be nice, you walked in. But you weren’t alone. A tall, muscular blonde had her arm around your shoulders, pulling your tight to her side. And, fucking hell, she looked so much cooler than Ellie did.

She watched as her blue eyes danced around the bar, looking for someone. They widened, and a smile spread on her lips. Hand raising to the ceiling to wave at her friends occupying a booth behind Ellie, Jessie, Dina. “Who the fuck is that?” She spoke, arching her lip in disgust—which wasn’t entirely purposely.

You noticed Ellie, standing from the table she sat at. Waving your fingers, you gave a small smile. Until your eyes landed on an obsidian-haired young woman, with a resting bitch face worse than your own. Dina was leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed. You allowed Abby to guide you to the bar, ordering your usual—a double vodka cranberry.

Something about this night was going to be very, very long. Good thing Cat didn’t come out.

taglist: @autisticintr0vert , @liasxeatt

#🪅#millersfinest #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie tlou #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams series

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starsofang · 7 months ago

Text

in which ghost is a ghost.

tw: nsfw, mdni, fingering, p in v, monsterfucking if u squint?? kind of and also yes

there was a ghost haunting your house.

all your friends called you crazy. they blamed it on your recent breakup, telling you that you weren’t used to living alone, that moving into a new house took getting used to. you didn’t agree.

there was no doubt in your mind that a ghost haunted your new home.

it showed in the way the floorboards creaked when nobody was there to step on them. or the icy draft that lingered in the hallways, sending chilled shivers down your spine. or the shadows that played tricks on you in the dark when you’d wake in the night to use the restroom or grab a glass of water.

you knew it wasn’t a figment of your imagination. the only explanation was a ghost. you just didn’t have solid proof.

things began to shift to something more strange the longer you lived in the house.

at night, you could feel prying eyes staring back at you from the depth of the shadows, yet when you’d look around, nothing would be there. or sometimes, the achingly familiar feeling of a fingertips caressing the skin of your ankle would coax goosebumps to rise on your skin.

whatever ghost resided in your home was increasingly growing more comfortable as time passed with you invading their space. they teetered on an edge, making careful calculations of their subtle touches as not to scare you away, while keeping you hooked with curiosity. really, you should’ve been scared, and you should’ve ran away.

that was precisely what went through your head when the touch of their hand would venture. beginning at your ankle and inching up and up every night that passed. it was a game between the two of you. they tested your limits while you threatened to further them.

it was dangerous, really. messing with a ghost who you had no clue if they were evil or not. demonic, even. none of that seemed to cross your mind when the touches soothed the agonizing ache of loneliness that squeezed your heart every waking day.

your curiosity was growing, though. you yearned to learn about the ghost who was tormenting the comfort of your home, to learn who kept you up at night with a racing heart and a lump in your throat. there was no harm in asking, right?

he didn’t speak much when you did. he told you his name was ghost, but that he remembered being called simon. how fitting ghost was, but how humanizing simon could be.

he remained a shadow when he appeared to you, masking his identity, one that you were unsure if it was a personal choice or he was stuck like that. regardless of it, you shouldn’t have grown attraction to it.

of course, you did. who could blame you? you had learned the name of the ghost who had been haunting you for months, touching you, teasing you. it was hopeless. there was nothing to fight, nor did you really want to.

it was the exact reason on why you ended up with your legs spread, the chill of the room and ghost sweeping over your skin as if being dunked in ice water. a ghastly hand was pumping its way inside of you, fingers curling into that spongy spot you can’t quite reach with your own, wrenching gravelly moans from you that filled the air with song.

it became a nightly routine of yours. ghost fucking you with his fingers, freezing to the touch, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were a weeping mess on the bed, riddled with blissful exhaustion.

then, his fingers became his cock. it was strange, fucking a shadowy ghost that had muddied features you couldn’t make out. you didn’t know what he truly looked like, but you imagined he was as rugged as his voice in the most handsome way.

his cock was much more intoxicating than his fingers. he fucked you with a goal in mind, and that was to take and take from you until your energy had transferred to him. he was sucking away bits of your soul with every long night of coming with him buried inside of you, making up for it with ghostly kisses on your skin once you were burnt out.

things were evolving into dangerous territory. having sex was already dangerous, but now, he was becoming possessive.

if you had a guest who was a male, he’d cause a poltergeist like a pouty child. throwing books off the shelves, knocking over glasses and shattering them on the floor, whispering taunting threats in the ears of your guest. his aim was to have them running out the door and never come back, and it always worked.

what did you think this was? you let him claim you. ghost or not, you were his, and you’d be confined to this house just as much as he was.

#angie’s rambles #i need therapy #ghost is a ghost lol #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #ghost drabble #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod ghost

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emmcfrxst · 4 months ago

Note

Hear me out… lil blurb of old man Logan and reader just slow dancing together to find comfort, despite all of the evil going on around them 😭

okay so i got carried away and tweaked the prompt a little bit. this is fluff with a spoonful of angst. little more than 900 words. reader’s gender/characteristics are not specified but it’s implied that you’re shorter than logan. putting the drabble under the cut as to not clog the tags <3 inspired by lyrics from The Mountain Goats’ song Sax Rohmer #1

The soft melody of the rain outside harmonizes with the dull buzzing of the old, beat up fridge you’re leaning against, a glass of water cradled between your palms. Your gaze falls on Logan as he walks through the front door, droplets of water gliding down the exhausted lines of his face. He says nothing as he sheds off his suit jacket, eyes lingering on you for a moment before he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow arched in question.

“Couldn’t sleep?” his voice sends pleasant tingles down your spine; the rich, raspy quality of it enveloping you with his every word. You wish he’d speak more often— you would love nothing more than to drown in the depths of his voice, but Logan is a man of very few words, and you’ve long since made your peace with the realization that not much could ever change that part of him; and you wouldn’t want to, either. Your relationship with him may be complicated at times, but you remain certain of the depth of your feelings for Logan— you’ve come to love him as he is, not interested in trying to modify the results of over two centuries of pain and loss; his past is part of who he is, and you love that person wholeheartedly.

“Was waiting for you.” the softness of your tone seems to reflect the look in his eyes as he steps forward, clothes leaving a trail of droplets behind. Your eyelids flutter lightly once his hands are on you, curling around your hips like they have done so many times before— it’s been years of living by his side, but his touch still manages to set your insides alight with the kind of trepidation that one feels for their first love. You move forward until your chests are touching, rain quickly saturating the shirt you’re wearing— one of his; an older, more tattered one you’ve held onto all this time, as if needing proof of your shared past. You wrap your arms around Logan’s neck, tilting your head upwards so your foreheads can meet in a tender press, his beard tickling the top of your lip. Up close, you can see the array of new bruises making their home on his handsome face, a frown downturning the curve of your lips.

“M’okay.” he mumbles quietly, already expecting you to point it out— these days, you find that you don’t really have to say anything anymore, whether it be from the synchronization of your souls or your lover’s dismissal of any and every concern about the changes in his physicality; Logan has a way of soothing your worries away with a tender brush of his lips on your forehead, sincerity enveloping his tone like a warm blanket on a cold day. He knows his limits, and after a series of tearful confessions between the worn out sheets of your shared bed, he knows not to push them too much so as to not upset you. Nodding in response, you let your nose rub against his, comforted by the fact that he will tell you about the events that led to the purple blooms across his skin all in due time— it would end up being a group of drunks like usual, anyway; a small pack of testosterone filled idiots emboldened by the alcohol and refusing to pay for the services Logan offered them. Nothing I can’t handle, he would add afterwards, cradling the side of your face with a tenderness very few people have ever seen the great Wolverine exude. You’re okay with pushing all of these thoughts to the side for now, anyways— focus on him, because he kept his promise to you again today

I’ll always come home to you.

“Dance with me.” your lips brush against his as you whisper out your demand, making Logan raise one eyebrow at you playfully.

“There’s no music.” he states as if that was obvious— because it is, but under the dim lights of the kitchen, here with him in this moment, you can’t bring yourself to care. A soft chuckle leaves him when you shrug lightly, your lover’s head tilting down to give you a proper kiss; the first one since he arrived a handful of minutes ago.

“Doesn’t matter. Just wanna feel you.” your explanation makes his heart ache, idly wondering if he would survive the tearing open of his chest in an attempt to gift you the appendage— it would be worth the pain, and there is no one else he would die for like the way he would for you. It belongs to you anyway, he thinks serenely.

“Alright.” he ends up saying, voice laced with layers upon layers upon layers of tenderness. He takes a moment to memorize the way your eyes light up at his acceptance, wanting to take the visual away with him were he to meet an untimely death the next time he steps through the threshold of your front door— he wouldn’t go down without a fight, but he’s old and tired and aching and although he denies it when it comes to you, he knows his body doesn’t heal the way it used to; there is a chance, every time he leaves for work, that he won’t be able to keep his promise of coming home to you, but he will try anyways— would come home with blood pouring out of his mouth if it meant getting to hold you for one more night. You make it worth it. You make him want to live.

You rest your forehead on his shoulder, body swaying along with his as he kisses the crown of your head in silent reverence.

Tomorrow may not be guaranteed, but none of that matters tonight as you wrap yourself around him, dancing around the kitchen in the moonlight, anchoring him with the steadiness of your heartbeat and giving him something to fight for for a little longer.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett angst #old man logan x reader #old man logan imagine #old man logan fluff #old man logan angst #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine fluff #wolverine angst #xmen imagine #xmen angst #xmen fluff #wtfhasmy-lifecometo #answered

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free-my-boy-grumbot · 1 year ago

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“ohhh i’m so tired of love songs i wish people would write more original stuff” literally listen to lemon demon. some of his song topics include

Ronald Reagan fights his evil shadow self

Guy is trapped inside an evil arcade machine that kills people

You can do what you want to your body! dye your hair! get that tattoo! pull your teeth out! stick screws in your eyes! rip your arms off!

disgraced scientist is disgraced

I forgor 💀

Guy died and a bunch of cool haunted shit happened and it was really spooky

Please date me i’m a really nice ghost i mean normal man

I’m eating a corpse and it’s soo tasty and homoerotic come join me

ohohoho i am a Creature

well you probably know what two trucks is about

#feel free to add ur favourite lemon demon song #cw gore mention #lemon demon #neil cicierega #spirit phone #reaganomics lemon demon #cabinet man #modify #touch tone telephone #amnesia was her name #when he died #soft fuzzy man #sweet bod #eighth wonder #two trucks

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missnightshade · 3 months ago

Text

❝ I WILL REMAIN, LOVE ❞

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Lilia's trial ends with an - almost - irreversible consequence for Agatha's lover.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort. Almost death experience. Mentions of blood, blades and death (aka Rio). Non canon. English not being my first language.

Word count: 2k and something.

The path narrowed as the Coven walked through it. Looking forward at the long-haired witch that had your heart, you felt that Agatha no longer held the confidence she once had while summoning the Witche's Road. Both of you knew, for sure, that the whole song was a catch. A nice, petty, centuries old trap Agatha created in hopes to gain enough power to bring Nicky back.

A witch’s life was never easy. Just as the world was a malleable cruel thing, so was the days that these powerful women had to go through. Things changed between almost four hundred years back and now, walking this makeshift magical road. Nothing was as it used to be. Yet, Agatha was the only constant in all of the eras of your life. One that didn’t need a real label for you to know that, no matter what happened, it was the two of you against the world.

As the time passed and your legs grew tired, your attention shifted to the teen boy. It wasn’t needed for Agatha to tell you that she, too, was suspicious he was the one manipulating all of that. Agatha was powerless, and you knew it wasn’t you. Jen, Alice and Lilia were powerful, but not enough to bend reality to fit their own agenda.

But Teen, or Billy, emanated strong ancient magic. It was applaudable how the seams between his mind and the reality were almost unnoticeable

“He doesn’t know.” you guessed, falling into Agatha’s steps as the rest of the coven stayed behind, carelessly discussing something trivial.

“What gave it away, love?” she smiled, but her mind was far, far away.

“He got himself deadly hurt. He would have to be insanely dumb to trust one of us would cure him.

“Maybe he is just a dumb boy...” Agatha started out playfully, but seeing your serious face, the shine in her eyes died. You hoped for it to come back. “I know. And this makes...everything harder.”

You felt the witch rambling inside, wishing to measure the weight of explaining her worries, but as she opened her mouth, a cold, sickining body passed between the two of you, harshly separating your shoulders. Rio's sinister smile echoed inside your mind, like she could indeed penetrate herself there. As the sharp blade of hers slid down the middle of her tongue, evil, inviting, you felt the path ahead tuneling before you.

“I see you in the next trial, Y/N.”

And right there, towering in front of both of you as Rio skipped happily towards it, was a dim lit castle with its imponent tower screaming at you. Your steps halted, and Agatha almost bumped into you. You couldn't notice as Rio’s aura still held you hostage there, but your partner, your companion, your constant, eyed you as if she could actually force you out of the road. She knew, you knew, but no one dared to say a thing, afraid of the consequences.

Inside the castle, the clothes changed drastically, almost as you were in a disney witches' reunion. A table of tarot reading stood in the middle of the room, and as Teen rounded the corner, Lilia stopped there.

‘It’s my trial. I should read it.”

There was no questioning, but as the first card was laid upwards on the table, a sharp sword crashed down right by your side. Arms full of worry pulled you in, and your body rested against a scared Agatha. Her heartbeat was rapid against your touch, but as you glanced at RIo, she was nowhere to be found. The celling, full of swords, was just now noticed as the trial’s count down began, lowering above the coven’s head.

“I think we need something more...” desesperadly, Agatha took the deck of cards from Lilia. “Imediate.”

She started to lay cards as if her life depended on it. And, at some point, it did. But card after card, mistake after mistake, more and more swords fell. Some not around you, but mostly too close to be safe.

“Agatha!” Teen screamed, stopping her. “It’s not by chance. This has to be done right.”

The deck of cards was, again, in Lilia’s hand. Even though she managed to find out who the reading reading was for, as the last card was placed and the celling stopped lowering, a heartless, mounstruous sound erupted around the room. Agatha looked behind, breathless, pushing you towards the exit that popped open.

“The Seven are here. Hurry. Everyone out!"

Lilia intended to be the last one out, but as Jen pulled her, there was only you, teen, and Agatha behind. You didn’t notice, but a quiet, sly snake rounded the corner of a pillar, morphing quickly into one of Agatha’s old nemeses. The scare made you tremble, steps a mess as you tried to block down an attack with your own powers. A flash of light sent you and them apart, and as the snake met the side of a blade, you met the other, both fallen from the trial. The sharp pain erupted, but looking behind, Agatha was as surrounded by another four of them. Lilia screamed something that only Teen managed to understand, and as he blasted both of you out, the main card was turned upside down, in time only for him to jump out of the door before the whole trial turned and screams of impaled witches were heard.

The instant died down. Nothing besides agitated breaths could be heard between all of the coven members. You, on the other side, could barely hear anything. Agatha’s voice calling for you was far away, and although you tried to answer, you choked in blood, the taste of the ironed fluid filling your mouth.

“What?” Teen asked Alice, who stared at him like a ghost was right above his shoulders. As he held you still, the protection witch could only point out to your own body falling against Billy’s, pale face, coughing blood till your whole figure hit the floor.

Agatha eyes were shining with tears. The leaves from the trees in Salem that spring were vivid, but not like her eyes. At that time, you couldn’t bring yourself to say something as deeply as “I love you” to the Harkness heir. And as your death seeped into your whole existence, the fear of losing her friendship felt...ridiculous. Her tears fell onto your body. Pierced through with Evanora Harkness’ magic for simply being her daughter support, you were sure that there was no better reason to die.

“Please, Sunshine. Stay with me. It will be okay.” Agatha cried and cried, cradling your body into her arms. Holding you for her dear life, your body slowly became more and more heavy against her lap.

“Shh..Aggy. Don’t cry.” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. There was no physical damage, but your insides rotted by the minute. “This is honestly the best option to die. In your arms, you know?”

She scoffed, trying to pull your head up as if a miracle would happen. She was not only sad and griefing but also mad and frustrated.

“Don’t be stupid. You’re not going to die.”

You regarded her tiredly, too tired to even speak. But you knew that there was no way death would collect you before Agatha was sure it wasn’t her fault. And how loved she was.

“Aggy...this is unfruitful. We both know it.” you swallowed your desperation to part ways with the living world. “Just hear me out, Angel. You were the best, best thing I could have in my life. I love you. I’ve always loved you. Don’t forget that. I would die a thousand times in your arms.”

She blinked, tears falling onto your forehead. Last time, your voice grounded her as her own magic saved your from death. But now, as Rio appeared again, there was nothing from you besides the blood that ran to the floor from a large perforation you suffered from falling against the tip of a sword without even noticing in all that commotion. Agatha blamed herself again. You were on the road because of her. Because of her restless search for power. Looking at your pale face and shallow breath almost dissipating, she felt for the first time in her life since her son’s birth that she didn’t need any magic if she could, perhaps, keep you.

“You know you can’t.” Rio’s voice echoed, but as the witches around your lifeless body moved around to recreate the spell used on Billy, Agatha stared at her. “You walked hand in hand with me for so long, Agatha. You, above anyone, should understand how life and death works.“

“Don’t!”, the witches voice screamed back, and the strength it held made Rio stop marching forward. “She can’t die. It’s not her time.”

“But it is.” death answered, showing her half skull face only Agatha could see. “She gave you everything. Her time has been completed.”

“No!” she didn’t plead. Tired of all the centuries serving as a cunt to give her more and more bodies even after having her son taken from her, it felt unfair. “That’s enough.”

Agatha didn’t waste another minute there, succumbing to Rio’s words. She cried out for Jen. Vulnerable, broken, the coven fell into a rhythm of trying the ritual over and over again, but not only the moonlit water fell onto your body, but also your partner’s tears as she was left disheveled from pleading to the Mother to keep your life. It was a side of Agatha Hakness no one had seen. No one besides Y/N and Rio. Yet, as the hole on your body closed, no one exactly knew what would be of you. Rio stood there, overing your body.

“She will be alright.” Teen reassured Agatha almost three hours later, giving her some of the berries he found on the road.

She wanted to curse him for putting you into that situation, but then again, the Salem Seven were her fault. A moment passed as your body was kept close to the fire. On the sidelines, Death eyed you, protected by Agatha’s love, something that she despised you for. The blue eyed witch gazed at you.

“You care for her.” Lilia said, voice flowing with the wind. “Like you never cared for anyone.”

“Just one person, besides her. My son.” she smiled sadly. It was the first time mentioning him, but the truth was just as painful as the current reality. The coven, her found coven, listened to it. “And Y/N helped me navigate all of that. Back from Salem to now. But this is not the first time i almost killed her.”

“If you are going to talk about our story...” a faint, tired, almost really dead voice startled them. Rio had disappeared again, but Y/N’s eyes flashed from her place on the floor. “At least wake me up.”

The others laughed tearfully, relieved, but as Agatha rushed to your side, still a mess of hair, tears and dried mud, they gathered the fire away from them.

“Y/N...sunshine. I’m...”

“Don’t, love. Don’t even think of it.” the maimed witch intercepted, reaching out just one hand to touch her left cheek. Her thumb caressed her face. “I’m here. And I'm not going anywhere. It's not easy to free yourself from me.”

“And i don’t want to.”, her lips pressed against your forehead, kissing it before pecking your lips. “I’m sorry I keep drowning you into my mess. This is unaceptable.”

“Aggy. Please, stop.” even laying down, you could still command her with those sweet eyes. “It’s not your fault.’

“But...”

“No buts. Now, come here.”

As you gently pulled Agatha down, her arms were protective around you. Your body still ached, but as your heartbeat fell into the same rhythm of Agatha’s, there was no doubt you would survive. With your head on her chest, your heavy eyes fell onto the image of the coven exchanging a cup of water they found. Behind them, the shadow of Death blinked slowly at you, turning her back before cutting Billy’s reality to step out.

It wasn’t over, but the worst was.

"I love you." Her voice hummed against your hair.

And you would do all over again for her.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha coven of chaos

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proqhetic · 11 months ago

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Could you write your head canons for what dating Lottie would be like? Sorry it’s basic this is my first time requesting 😅

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ ꪆৎ ˚ ⋅ dating lottie matthews hcs

cw: nsfw at the bottom, blood

when your relationship is just starting out, i think lottie would be extremely shy or reserved

i don’t think she has a lottttt of experience (compared to say jackie or nat), and she’s always kept to herself more, so she’d be extra cautious about not messing this up or making you uncomfortable in anyway

trusts you with the “weirder” sides of herself that she’s usually too embarrassed to show around others and you only love her even more for it

she’s so cute WAAAJSHAHSKFHAGJ

will do the pinky thing when she wants to hold your hand where she just lightly pokes your hand with it before you just full on take her hand in yours 😭😭

“lottie, we’re already dating. you can hold my hand.” “i just— i wasnt sure!” she defends herself while grinning, taking your hand in hers

her main love language is definitely gift giving!! she’ll gladly shower you in gifts and presents everyday if she knew it would make you happy

if you mention in passing about an expensive pair of shoes you’ve been eyeing for a while now or a funko pop of one of ur faves just dropped, expect to see it nicely wrapped in a bow on your bed by the next day <3

expect her to go ALL OUT for valentine’s day, christmas and your birthday in terms of surprising you with presents and parties.

matching halloween costumes are also on the agenda

cannot cook to save her life this point should just be canon (will try to cook breakfast in bed for you and fail miserably)

sleepovers at her house after soccer practice!!! you’d sit on the bleachers and watch her during practice with heart eyes like those cheesy high school movies while you wait for her

so. many. forehead kisses. (that height difference mmm)

light sleeper — (esp pre-dating) frequently wakes up in the middle of the night and has trouble falling asleep. your presence alone has been such a help,, she’ll have an arm wrapped around your waist or fall asleep tucked into the crook between your neck and shoulder while u play with her hair > <

but the second you crawl up to pee in the middle of the night you come back and see her awake and staring back at you all groggy and pouty hhjshdjehs

asks nat how to create a mixtape just so she can create one for you with all the songs that remind her of you

slips you those stupid post-its in class with the checkboxes that are like

“ hey.. i think ur pretty cute :) date tn? ▢ yes!! ♡ ▢ no :( ”

even though it’s been like a good few months into your rs

⚠️ — nsfw

secretly a freak but wbk… let’s be honest here!!!!

loves whispering the filthiest things in your ear when you guys are out with your friends just to see you get all worked up and flustered

that paired with her evil grinnn oh when her fangs poke out MMMMNNCMSBV i’m going insane

speaking of fangs… biting your lip/neck until she draws blood (vampire!lottie you will always be famous)

sooo whiny. non stop whimpering. even draws them out because she knows how much hearing her turns you on

needs to build some confidence around you and get over that embarrassed start but could definitelyy be the dom one if she wanted

sleepy sex is her favourite >_< waking up to two of her fingers already inside you as she greets you with a drawled “good morning babyy” and a chaste kiss as she adds a third finger in

#WE ARE SO BACK #lottie things 💭#.nsfw #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #lottie matthews smut #yellowjackets smut #anomz

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ididdedurmom · 9 months ago

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More evil head cannons

I have silly ideas about the gang after the event of the story, everyone lives, except Bob

PONY:

Has a thousand yard stare when he zones out

Has the loudest, most disgusting, mucus filled cough ever

Actually really good at drawing

Has drawn every member of the gang at least twice

Loves physical touch, he leans on his friends when their sitting next to him.

Actually screams during horror movies, like loud genuine screams

Loves play fighting with Darry, like full on wrestling

Steve taught him how to drive

He either walks like a ghost or stomps, there is no in between

He can play one song on the guitar, and that’s it

His legs are super strong, so his kicks hurt really bad

He would be better at track, but his smoking habits hold him back

He feels jealous of Soda and Darry because they had more time with their parents

He and Darry have matching reading glasses

SODA:

He says “I’m just a girl” anytime he gets in trouble

He has used his pretty privilege to get out of being arrested multiple times

Despite how handsome he knows he is, he still feels super insecure about his looks

He steals from the DX station constantly

He and Steve spend hours gossiping about their customers once both of their shifts are over

A dog bit him when he was a kid, now he’s deathly afraid of them

He loves physical affection, hugging him is the best way to cheer him up

Absolute candy addict

Candy is the #1 item he steals from the DX

He broke his dominant hand once, and now his handwriting is permanently ruined

He reads insanely slow and monotone when he reads out loud

He either sleeps like a rock, or wakes up from the slightest sound, there is no in between

He lives in his flannel, that thing hasn’t been washed in literal years

He suffers from middle child syndrome, he knows his brothers love him, but they don’t pay enough attention to him

DARRY:

He hates his jobs, he knows he has to go but he can’t stand them

All of his coworkers are old and they treat him like a child (which he’s kind of okay with in a way)

He loves watching cartoons but he feels like he’d be wasting his time

He sneezes like a dad

He wakes up at 4 am and works out immediately

Loves compliments and words of affection

Doing favors is his love language

He has the whitest legs ever, he’s all tan on the top and snow white on the bottom

His tan ends where his pants start

Small bits of his hair are grey, he doesn’t know

He has a fear of abandonment

He is insanely flexible for a man of his size, like he can touch the floor standing up with ease

He hit a dog with his car once and cried for 2 hours straight

He loves cuddling on the couch with his brothers, it helps him relax

He despises Curly Shepard, he’s civil with Tim, but he HATES Curly

When he comes home from his ski trips with his old friends, he actually looks his age

A woman once assumed he was Pony’s father, and it made him die inside a little

He can’t stand Mother and Fathers Day

He was mad at Steve when he found out he taught Pony how to drive

TWO-BIT:

He and Dally bond by harassing women

He has a box full of things he’s stolen

His slight alcoholism stems from his father

He let’s his sister paint his nails, and he shows them off proudly

He gets his nails painted before rumbles

He watches soap operas with his mother every night

He can play the trumpet

He has never purchased a pack of cigarettes, only stolen

He listens to metal

When he passes Johnny’s house, he has to actively stop himself from walking in and beating Johnny’s parents half to death, especially his father

Its not that he doesn’t want a job, I mean he doesn’t, it’s that he thinks he’d only mess up whenever they had him do

He constantly forgets to brush his teeth

Pop and beer are the only things he drinks, he doesn’t touch water

He religiously wears Mickey Mouse merch, you will never catch him in a plain shirt

Baby Pony and him got along really well, he was kinda like Pony’s goofy cousin

Two-Bit and Darry have been friends since they were little kids

Two has no plans for his future, and it weighs on him

He broke both of his elbows once

His teachers have kinda given up on him, they just treat him like a bother instead of a student

STEVE:

He messes up Pony’s hair every chance he gets

He uses the most hair grease out of everyone

He has had the same comb for 3 years

He constantly smells like oil

The underside of his nails are always black, no matter how much he washes his hands

He and Soda have matching scars from a shared failed attempt to climb a barb wired fence

He is terrified of the police

He and Soda make your mom jokes at each other, despite neither of them having mothers

His voice is scarily deep when he wakes up

He and Two-Bit have an inside joke no one in the gang understands

He, Soda, and Two-Bit all have matching stick and poke tattoos

He hates his father, and by extension the fathers of Johnny and Two-Bit

He and Dally don’t hang out much, but when they do they are absolute menaces

Dally and him steal cars and hub caps together

He is genuinely upset by the size of his nose

JOHNNY:

He’s dyslexic

His handwriting is atrocious

His best subject is math

He and the gang all picked out stickers to put on his crutches

He loves sleeping around his friends

His hands are rough

He can’t stand the smell of beer, unless it’s one of the gang

He and Curly hate each other for literally no reason

Pony has slowly been teaching him to read better

No matter how much grease he puts in his hair, it won’t stay back

He hates going out in public because people always look at him funny

He hates looking at his burn scars

He, Dally, and Ponyboy watch sunsets together

He either sleeps at the Cutis’s house, Two-Bit’s house, Steve’s (very rarely), or Dallas’s place.

He’s not allowed to sleep in the lot anymore

He has tons of freckles, you just can’t see them against his skin

He loves sleeping outside when he wants to

He never wants children, he’s to scared he’ll become his father

His pain tolerance is so high that sometimes he won’t even notice when he gets injured

He likes how defensive Dallas is of him, makes him feel confident

He smokes marijuana with Dally sometimes, he’s super anxious when they do though because he doesn’t want to get arrested

DALLY:

He will not talk about his feelings

The cops forced him to go to therapy, it didn’t fix anything

He is amazing at lying

The police know him by name

He hasn’t told the gang much about the past other than where he came from and that he doesn’t talk to his folks

Darry nicknamed him “Rat”

He actually feels bad when Darry yells at him

He gets sun burns very quickly

He has his own personal stench

He doesn’t want Johnny to end up like him

He cried for 3 hours straight when he found out Johnny was still alive, it is his most embarrassing moment

He chugs drinks insanely fast

He can’t read very well

He needs glasses but he thinks he’d look like a wimp if he had any

Even though he knows he could have an asthma attack from coughing to hard, he still doesn’t carry his inhaler

He was happy when he thought he was going to die

Then he woke up and had an epiphany about life, it didn’t do to much, but now he knows death isn’t the only option

He proudly shows off the burn marks on his arm

He loves pushing Johnny around in his wheelchair

He listens to outlaw music and Frank Sinatra

He loves horror movies

He toned down his bad behavior once he got out of the hospital, he’s still a dick though

That’s it or whatever. I hope you like them, I’m sorry if some of them don’t make sense. I’m just so silly. I apologize for my horrible grammar lol. Feel free to tell me some of your head cannons!! :D

#the outsiders #johnny cade #dally winston #two bit mathews #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #steve randle #headcanon #silly guy

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boyfiejay · 1 year ago

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Forever with you

PAIRING : Idol! Park Jongseong x gn Reader

GENRE : hurt, comfort, fluff

Warning : jay almost collapses, they are overworked, he cries, short appearance of Jungwon

Word Count : 1.1k

Author's Note : this has been on my mind for so long, i just had to write idol jay. Also he is just very lovesick and loverboy coded here, its just me projecting what i want my man to be like 😋

Jongseong loved being Enhypen's Jay but he loved being your Jongie just as much.

Enhypen have been travelling around the world, holding concerts in countries they haven't visited and meeting fans that supported them since i-land. And although he loved meeting his fans and the thrill of it all, he missed you.

He missed you so much, he felt like he was going insane. It was overwhelming for him to experience such a strong desire to meet someone.

He had been homesick before, he had wanted to meet his mom out of the blue many times but it was something that could be easily forgotten if he drowned himself in work. But he never thought that being away from you would hurt so much.

Even when you two were in the same city, you wouldn't get to meet everyday. But there was a sense of security knowing he could visit you anytime he wanted. But now that he was thousands of miles away, it made him feel lonely.

At first the concerts had been a piece of cake, the excitement overpowering the exhaustion. But as months passed and the exhaustion started becoming more unbearable, all of them were constantly on edge, getting irritated easily and snapping at each other.

Today he felt particularly needy, he wasn't the over clingy type but today he wanted nothing more than being wrapped in your arms. Your soft fingers grazing his cheeks and looking at him in a way that made him feel giddy inside.

He wanted you.

Jay felt beyond exhausted, the worst he's felt in the recent weeks. He was trying his best to not snap at anyone, but today he was too tired to care about how rudely he talked to Jake. Or how he glared at Sunghoon for simply coughing too loud.

Moreover everyone was walking on eggshells around him, he didn't miss the way Sunoo scrambled to turn off his phone when Jay glanced at him. Everyone looked like they were hiding something.

He didn't put much thought to it, and although worn out, tried to give his best on stage.

Jay felt dizzy. He almost collapsed a little before their last song and was strictly ordered by Heeseung to rest for a bit. His manager was refusing to give his phone, concerned that Jay might see something he shouldn't on the internet.

But Jay didn't care about what people thought at the moment, all he wanted to do was talk to you, hear your voice as you would worriedly ask him if he was fine.

Soon after the concert ended, they went straight to their hotels. They were supposed to have dinner with everyone, but Jay looked extremely pale, so the idea was scratched.

And now he was sitting in his hotel room – which he got all for himself – freshened up and staring at his phone, wondering why you haven't replied to his text from earlier.

Much to his disappointment, there was a knock on the door. Before he could even grumble about who it was, the door was pushed wide open by Jungwon.

Any other time, Jay would've been thankful that it was Jungwon and not the others. He was just easier to talk to, and he really didn't want to bicker with the other currently. But right now, Jungwon had the evilest grin on his face, maybe not evil but the point stands.

"What is it?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. At his question, Jungwon's grin widened, "Nothing, can't I just come visit you?" he said, voice dripping with fake innocence.

Jay gave him a look, they both knew that Jungwon was up to something so why was he beating around the bush?

"Okay fine, since you've been working so hard, i wanted to give you a gift." he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

He pulled someone from the hallway, making them stand beside him.

Jay couldn't believe his eyes, were you really in front of him? Your lips stretched to give him the widest smile, the prettiest one he's ever seen, as he claims.

Before he could realise, he was walking towards you, his body working without command. As soon as he was close enough, he was pulling in a hug. Your arms circling his shoulders as he pushed his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent that he's missed so much. He didn't even realise when Jungwon had walked out the door, shutting it after him.

It was suddenly dawning on him, you were really here. You travelled such a long distance just so you could meet him, did you miss him just as much? Jay knew the answer to that.

His eyes started to water as he hugged you tighter, oh but you have no idea of how much he's missed you. Your hands caressing the back of his head, letting his tears wet your shirt.

You pulled out of the hug, still pressed against him. There was that look again, you looked at him with so much love, like he painted the night sky and put stars in it. Your eyes slightly wet with tears as you took in his form.

He lost so much weight, eye bags under his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot due to the tears, but you had a suspicion that they were already a bit red.

But he still looked handsome as ever, even with tears running down his cheeks.

You thumbs wiped away the tears, he nuzzled his cheek in the palm of your hand, his bigger ones coming up to grasp at yours. He was scared that this was just a dream and he was going to wake up to an empty room.

Almost like you read his mind, "I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, alright?" you whispered "I missed you so much."

"You have no idea how much I missed you." he said, voice still trembling as his other hand on your waist pulled you even closer.

In the quiet of the room, the two lovers embraced each other. In that moment Jay realised that you were the one for him, the one he was willing to spend his life with. He wanted to wake up to see your beautiful face, cook for you, take you on fancy dates and all the cringey couples stuff.

It hurt him that he couldn't be with you, that he had to travel around the world and stay away from you for so long. He felt like the shittest boyfriend, but the way you mumbled 'I love you' against his lips, made him realise that you would stay by his side forever.

822 notes · View notes

springgirlshowers · 5 months ago

Text

You’re A Dream, A Burning Star

Summary: A small musician at a venue in Berlin catches Joosts eye, after speaking to her, neither would never expect the next few months to be so intense.

Pairing: Joost Klein x Fem!Reader

WC: 8016

CW: drinking, shitty boyfriends, kissing, yelling, arguing, actually proofread for once, tbh this whole fic is a rollercoaster of emotions…strap in

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON WHO REQUESTED THIS!!! this has probably been the most fun one to write n my longest fic yet, hope it breaks your heart and mends it all at the same time <3 *songfic heavily inspired by this evil ass song*

Sometimes while traveling, Joost would like to go out to smaller venues and watch other live shows of performers he’s never heard of.

The one he was going to tonight, he had already had a show booked there tomorrow night.

He just wanted to get an idea of what it would be like inside, sure he saw the photos of it, but he always preferred seeing things in real life.

The line up tonight was two opening acts, then the main one at a small venue and bar.

The first opening act was your name. He thought it was pretty. As he stood to the side, beer in hand. He watched you enter the stage, obviously nervous.

A pretty face to match a pretty name.

You talked kindly yet a bit frightened into the microphone. You were a bundle of nerves, apologizing for your awkward and nervous behavior, and explained that you were still getting used to these crowds.

He thought it was cute in a way, it reminded of himself when he was just starting out as well.

You talked to the crowd in between your songs. Asking how everyone was feeling and how their night was going, earning cheers from the crowd.

Joost watched as your eyes darted around the crowd as you sang, not in a way of you were trying to let everyone have your attention, but in a way of you were searching for someone.

Eventually your eyes gave up looking and you closed them instead, staring at the crowd for too long would make you even more nervous.

Joost felt like you casted a spell on him the way he couldn’t take his eyes off you. The way your lips moved as you sang sweetly into the mic, the way your hands moved so smoothly across the strings on your guitar, the way you swayed back and forth, how your eyes glistened in the light.

You had him in a trance.

After your short set was done, you exited the stage in such a polite manner. Thanking the crowd repeatedly before grabbing your guitar and case in an organized manner.

Joost would spend the next twenty minutes trying to find you. He knew it seemed a little weird to see you on stage and spend the rest of the night looking for you, like some obsessed fan.

But something in him was aching for him to talk to you.

When he found you, you were leaning against a back wall, watching the end of the second opening act.

Joost came up to you and suddenly he felt as nervous as you looked on stage.

You squinted your eyes at the blonde man for a split second. You had seen him from somewhere.

“I just wanted to say you did amazing on stage. It’s like you casted a spell on the crowd.” The validation made you smile.

“I’m not sure if they were really there for me, I was just the opening act.” You gave him a small shrug in response, too nervous to keep eye contact for long.

“A good amount of people seemed interested. Me included.” He nodded reassuringly.

“That’s very sweet of you to say, but I need to work on my stage presence, I’m moderately good at it.” You let out a nervous laugh.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He said blankly.

“What would you say then?” You questioned, tapping your fingers on your glass.

“I’d say you're exceptional.” A grin slowly took up your face, making your eyes shut and cheeks blush, you looked away.

“That’s a bit of overstatement. I messed up on my third song.” You shrugged, looking down at the cup in your hands. You’ve never gotten so many compliments in a single minute, in your mind you had to double down and keep yourself humbled.

“I didn’t even notice. I thought you sounded perfect.” He said blankly, unbothered.

“That’s very sweet of you…uh, you haven’t told me your name yet.”

“I’m Joost.” He looked puzzled as your jaw dropped, eyes lighting up.

“Now I know where I recognized you from! I’ve heard of you!” You pointed at him.

“You have?” Joost looked at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah, I heard your little song that you did with that guy with the goggles.” You giggled and made a gesture to your eyes.

You were so nice. Joost was praying that was the only song you heard by him and not any of his other popular ones with…suggestive lyrics.

“Yeah, it’s getting pretty popular isn’t it?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. God, you were so sweet. He didn’t want to mess this up.

You looked at your phone again, seeing if there were any new notifications for a text from your boyfriend. There was nothing. You let out a dissatisfied breath and turned it off.

“Are you alright? Are you waiting for someone?” Joost asked as you shoved your phone into your pocket.

“Uh, yeah. My boyfriend said he would show up tonight but I haven’t seen him. I’m wondering if he even bothered to show up at all.” You muttered your last sentence out, still looking around to see if he was there.

Joosts heart fell to his stomach. Of course a pretty girl like you would have a boyfriend. You were talented, kind, and gorgeous. Who wouldn’t fall in love with you?

He stayed silent, giving you a sympathetic frown.

“Anyways, is that why you’re here in Berlin? Your song?” You pipped, changing the subject in hopes to get rid of the knot in your stomach.

“How do you know I’m not from Berlin?” He teased, narrowing his eyes.

“You have a different accent. You pronounce words differently. Plus, we’re talking in Dutch. I’m guessing either you’re from Belgium or the Netherlands.” You shrugged.

“Netherlands.” He nodded, your eyes lit up.

“I knew it! I’ll be there in a few months actually!” You exclaimed happily.

“Really? For tour?”

“Oh not for that. It’ll be over by then.” You waved your hand. “A label in Amsterdam reached out to me and I think I’m gonna take the offer.”

“That’s amazing!” He exclaimed, his face filling up with joy, then he cleared his throat. “Is your boyfriend moving with you?”

Your happy expression faltered, looking down at your drink nervously.

“Um, well he doesn’t think he can. With work and all, but we’re just gonna do long distance.” You pipped, though you tried your best to put on a mask of happiness, the hesitation in your voice was obvious.

Before Joost could get a word out, a male voice was calling your name from the crowd.

A slender man appeared, black hair and tall but shorter than Joost. He ran over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Speak of the devil Joost thought to himself, assuming this was your boyfriend with the way you looked at him.

“Hi sweetheart, I’m so sorry I got caught up with…stuff.” He attempted to give you a kiss on the lips, you accidentally moved your head in time for it to land on your cheek. “When do you go on?” He nodded to the stage.

“My set ended twenty minutes ago, Leon.” You said softly, the hurt and gloom prominent in your voice with your pouty face.

“Really? I thought you didn’t go on til later?” He said surprised, Joost could see through his act.

“I texted you the time I would be going on.” You trailed off, rubbing your arm for comfort.

“Are you sure? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you stranded.”

“It’s fine.” You said sadly, “I’ve already made a friend, this is Joost!” You gestured to Joost. Leon quickly took a protective stance, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close to him.

He was oblivious to the way you tensed up, Joost wasn’t however.

“Hi.” Joost gave a tight lipped smile, feeling the tension in the air.

“Joost makes music as well! He’s been doing it longer than me though.” You pipped, trying to continue on the conversation, slightly leaning away from Leon’s touch.

“Yeah, that’s great. I’m gonna go get a drink, do you wanna come with me?” Leon looked down at you.

“Oh, I’m fine right here. I already have one anyway.” You said happily, unbothered. Leon let out an annoyed breath.

“Why don’t you just come with me.” He spoke, more of a demand than a suggestion. You repeated your first previous sentence and shook your head. Leon removed his arm from around you, grabbing onto your upper arm with his hand, attempting to pull you with him.

“Come on, lets go.” He sounded like an angry father.

“I said I didn’t want to! I’m fine right here, Leon.” You shouted, wriggling your arm out of his grasp.

“Fine, whatever.” He muttered something else as he walked away. You rubbed your upper arm, ignoring the red fingerprints from how rough he was.

“He seems like a jerk.” The words were leaving Joosts mouth before he could realize. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be judging your relationship.” He blinked repeatedly and shook his head, as if he was trying to shake away what he said.

“No, it’s fine. He’s just a bit stubborn and short-tempered sometimes.” You sighed. “So what brought you to this place?” You changed the subject again, wanting to move on.

“Oh, um, I'm performing here tomorrow night, so I’m just getting an idea of what it’s like here tonight.” He shrugged.

“That’s so cool! Maybe I’ll show up and see you.” You suggested, Joost felt anxiety fill him up. His music was the complete opposite to yours.

“Oh no, you don’t have to, I don’t think you’d like mine. It doesn’t seem your style.”

“How do you know? I like trying new things.” You narrowed your eyes at him, playful look on your face.

“Fine. You know what, I’ll get you a backstage pass too so you’re not stuck with the sweaty crowd.”

“I’d like that a lot.” You laughed, the butterflies in Joosts stomach started fluttering again.

Noticing that Leon was taking a bit long to simply order a drink, you craned your head towards the bar, he wasn’t there. You pulled out your phone to text him.

Where’d you go??

Went back to my place. I got to work early tomorrow.

“What happened?” Joost asked, looking at the frown that appeared on your face.

“My boyfriend left. He was supposed to be my ride home.” You scoffed and shook your head in disbelief. “I’ll just take an uber or something, that’s how I got here.” You sighed.

“I could drive you.” Joost blurted out. “I’m not drunk at all, I promise. I’ll walk in a straight line if you need me to.” You chuckled at his offer.

“I’d really appreciate that. I’ll give you some money for the gas you waste on me.” You half jokingly said, already reaching for your wallet. Joost waved a dismissive hand.

“No, no. You don’t have to. You won’t be wasting anything. You can pay me back by showing up tomorrow.” He cut off your protests.

“Deal.” You smiled.

Joost made you let him hold your guitar case as you left the bar, he put it in the backseat of his car. He opened the door on the passengers side for you, which was much more than Leon ever did for you.

The drive to your house was awkward, a bit silent, the only noise being the robotic voice telling the directions to your place on the GPS.

When you reached the parking lot, before opening the door you stopped and turned towards Joost.

“Do you want my number?” Joost nearly choked on his spit at your question.

“W-what?” He sputtered out.

“Do you want my phone number? So you can text me when you’re going on.” You suggested, “Plus, I’d like to be friends too.” You nervously mumbled.

“Are we not already?”

“I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.” You shrugged playfully. He grinned and grabbed his phone, opening messages and letting you type your number in, sending a text so you got the notification on your phone.

“Alright, sweet!” You said happily, stepping out the car, then leaning down a bit to look at him in the driver's seat.

“Thank you, a lot. For being so nice to me tonight.” You said, eyes looking around nervously.

“Yeah, yeah of course. You deserve it.” He praised, your cheeks went red and you looked down. He was giving you all the validation no one really ever did. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Joost.” You smiled and closed the door, waving at him as you walked to your apartment. Joost waited until he saw you enter your place and knew you were safe inside.

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow night.

You were definitely surprised by Joosts music style. You’d only heard one song of his in the past so you didn’t really know what the rest of his would be like.

It was strange seeing him out there, drinking beer on stage and moving around and singing like a madman as you watched from the side. Was this the same sweet guy you were talking to last night?

You didn’t mind however. His songs were catchy and you liked how he didn’t care about how crazy his stage presence was.

It was funny how you both caught your audience's eyes in different ways.

Joosts music was very hyper, fast, danceable. A microphone and a good DJ was what he used. It got the crowd jumping and chanting with him as he ran around on stage.

While yours was the complete opposite. Your music was a bit smoother, softer, flowy. You had your guitar and a sweet voice. The crowd swayed and mouthed along while you sang and stood on stage.

Joost exited the stage after lots of applause and repeated thank yous.

You felt a bit jealous of Joost, he had a bigger and definitely more interacting crowd than yours. You were grateful for what you got, but there was a small wanting inside you for one like his. Interested and excited. You knew it probably took a while for him to get here, as it does with all artists.

Hopefully one day you’d get a crowd as loud as his.

He ran right up to you, covered in a layer of sweat and chest heaving.

“What’d you think?” He asked, still catching his breath.

“I liked it, I think.” You both laughed. “It’s very…loud. Very crazy. But that’s a good thing, you know how to keep everyone entertained.” You complimented him, it was his turn to blush.

“Crazy. I like that.” He nodded proudly.

You walked over together to an empty spot behind the stage. A fold up table, a cooler of beer and different canned drinks sitting next to you.

“Do you want a beer?” Joost offered, you shook your head, telling him you already had a few.

“Well I’m gonna have more.” He laughed and pulled one out the cooler.

“Did it take you a while to get this big? Like with your career?” You spoke out, he looked at you confused.

“Well, kinda. I already had a small social media following before I started making music. So that helped.” He shrugged, taking a sip. “Why do you ask? Are you worried about yours?” It was like he could read your mind.

“Yeah, a bit.” You looked down at your feet. “I’m just scared I’m never gonna get where I want to be. Like I won’t be good enough for this stuff.” You frowned, Joost did too. He set his beer down on the table behind you.

“Hey, don’t say that.” He spoke softly, he brought his hand up to your chin, lifting it with a hooked finger for you to look at him. You breath hitched at the sudden gentle contact.

“You’re good enough. More than good enough. Exceptional. Remember?” You rolled your eyes at his words, he moved his hands to cup your face. “I’m serious! You’ve got an amazing voice. You’re gorgeous, talented, and kind. That’s the type of musician that this world needs.” His words made you smile and blush uncontrollably.

You muttered a small agreement and looked at each other. His eyes were so beautiful, though they were hidden behind his glasses, you could see the gorgeous shade of pale blue they were. It felt hypnotic.

Before you knew it, he was pulling your face to his, kissing you. You were caught off guard, still for a minute. Then you relaxed.

For a moment you pushed back into the kiss. Finding comfort in his lips against yours and his hands holding your face, you rubbed your hands up his chest as you kissed him back. Mouths parting and eloping each other's lips so passionately.

This was wrong. As you draped your arms around his neck Joost knew it was wrong. You had a boyfriend and he kissed you anyways. He couldn’t help it. You were so soft against him. You kissed back. It was pleasurable for the both of you, but it wasn’t right.

Then realization set in of what you were doing, you quickly pulled away.

You looked at each other, both a bit shocked and breathless.

“Oh…Joost. You’re very sweet but I already have someone. You know that.” You admitted as you let out a nervous breathy laugh.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I got a bit ahead of myself.” He quickly apologized.

“It’s okay. We’re both just drunk and being silly.” You giggled and shook your head.

Joost felt the opposite. He didn’t feel drunk at all, he didn't feel silly. He wanted to do that. Maybe it was a little impulsive, but he wanted to kiss you.

“Yeah, my adrenaline got too high. It was just a..” He let out an embarrassed laugh now too. Looking away and running hand through his already messy hair.

“Heat of the moment type of thing?” Your words were meant to sound like a statement, it ended up sounding like more of a question.

You were both lying. Neither of you were drunk. You both enjoyed it. You both wanted to do it. You both meant to do it. Just guilt and embarrassment got in the way.

“God, I'm sorry. W-we can just act like this never happened.” Joost told you, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Yeah, yeah, we can…” You trailed off, you still hadn’t moved your arms. He caught the way you were still gazing at him, eyes flickering to his lips once again.

You cleared your throat and removed your arms from him, crossing them awkwardly.

“Uh, do you need another ride home tonight?”

“Leon’s picking me up, he should be here soon actually.” You shook your head, the guilt starting to become obvious on your face. “I think I’ll just wait outside for him.” You quietly moved past him, looking at the floor.

“I can wait outside with you, for your safety.” He gulped. You turned to him, the corners of your lips slightly curling.

“Are you trying to be my guard dog now?” You joked.

“You could say that, plus I need my after-show smoke.” He shrugged, you scoffed and rolled your eyes playfully. Then waving a hand for him to come along.

As the night got darker the weather got colder, you stood outside the front entrance of the bar as you waited next to Joost. You took in a shaky breath as another cool gust of wind hit. Crossing your arms over each other, feeling the goosebumps.

“Are you cold?” Joost noticed, tilting his head.

“Just a bit.” You tried your best to act unbothered by the wind and what happened a few minutes ago. Joost took off his zip up jacket without a word, holding it out to you.

“No, no, you keep it. I don’t need it.” You waved a dismissive hand. Joost sighed.

“You’re shivering.” He raised his eyebrows at you. You shook your head once again. “Please. I'm still warm from the performance, I'll be fine.” He reassured you, you gave in, taking it and putting it on.

The jacket smelled slightly of cigarettes covered up by fruity cologne. It smelt like him. You felt so comfortable in it then any other clothes you’ve worn.

Joost finally lit his cigarette that had been hanging from his mouth, praying the taste of tobacco would overpower the taste of you in his mouth. It did, somewhat. The taste was still lingering on his tongue.

He made sure to blow smoke in the opposite direction of you, where the wind was going so you wouldn’t get a cloud of tobacco in your face.

You zipped the jacket up as you continued to wait, rubbing your fingers over the rhinestone skull design on it. Smiling.

Leon’s familiar car soon rolled up, parking by the sidewalk.

“You were really great tonight. You were amazing. Exceptional.” You told Joost as you started to slowly move towards your boyfriend's car.

“Thank you.” He was grinning ear to ear.

“Night Joost.” You gave him that signature sweet smile of yours that made him want to melt onto the concrete. He nodded his head and waved as you stepped in the car.

Leon pretended to not see Joost, even though Leon was staring daggers at him. He said nothing to you once you got in until you stopped at the first intersection.

“Any good acts tonight?” He spoke, turning on the right turn signal.

“Oh, yeah. Great ones.”

“That’s great baby, when did you get that jacket?” He took a quick look at your clothes. You looked down, eyes widening for a second.

You were still wearing Joosts jacket. You were wearing another man’s clothes in your boyfriend's car.

“I just found it in the back of my closet the other day.” You shrugged, acting oblivious.

Trying your best to tell yourself it really wasn’t that big of a deal, Joost only gave you his jacket because you were very obviously cold.

It meant nothing. If he hadn’t kissed you, maybe it would’ve meant nothing.

Leon let out a small hum, turning on the radio and saying nothing for the rest of the drive home.

You ended up not seeing Joost for the next four months. You kept in contact over text and one phone call. But you never saw each other in person after that. You never returned his jacket.

For those four months, there was a strange constant yearning, some ache in your chest. You weren’t sure exactly what. Maybe you did know, but just didn’t want to admit it. You convinced yourself it was Leon who you missed, not the other idea you were scared to admit.

Joost had that ache of yearning as well, he knew exactly what. You. He wanted to hear your laugh again, your singing, your voice. He wanted to see your smile, how your cheeks began to ball and blush and how your eyes squinted every time you began to grin.

God, he wanted nothing more but to see you again.

Once you were all settled in your new apartment, with barely any help from Leon, you began to book performances at local bars as you used to do back in Berlin.

Leon promised you he’d be in Amsterdam tonight, he promised he’d be on time and watch your show.

You peeked at the crowd a few minutes before you went on. Looking all over for him, even just a glimpse of him would make you happy. Glad he made it for once. There was no sign.

You pulled out your phone, texting him.

hey where are you??

i go on in like five minutes

are you running late??

A minute before set you got a response, you quickly checked your phone, an instagram notification.

But not from Leon, from Joost. He’d sent a photo. Just as you were about to see what it was, your name was being announced and you had to go on.

The crowd swayed and nodded along to your music. It was nice, you didn’t mind the peaceful crowd, it was what you were aiming for nowadays.

In the middle of one of your shorter songs, you once again started to look around for Leon. You spotted a taller, blonde, man wearing glasses, and hovering over the rest of the crowd with his height.

Joost.

You never told him directly where you were performing, he must’ve seen your name on the list of performers.

You began to smile and giggled for a moment into the mic. That smile and laugh he’s been waiting for what felt like forever to hear again, it made him feel ten times better than he already was.

After several thanks to the audience and putting away your things backstage, you checked your phone once again for any texts from Leon. Still nothing, he hadn’t even read your messages.

You walked out backstage and back into the bar area disappointedly until you saw Joost standing and waiting for you. Two drinks in his hands.

A smile lit up both your faces as you saw each other, yours was weaker than his however, still upset of Leon not showing up.

“Hey! I got you a drink, your mouth is probably pretty dry after all that singing.” He said happily, holding out the drink that was for you.

“Oh God, thank you. I was just about to get one of these.” You grinned as you took your drink from his hand, taking a sip from your straw and letting out a breath of satisfaction at the taste.

“I remember you said that was your favorite, so..” He shrugged and tilted his head as he smiled again. You hoped the dim light in the bar hid the blush taking over your cheeks, he remembered it was your favorite.

That only led you to another saddening thought. Joost remembered more about you than Leon did. He knew your favorite color, favorite drinks, favorite scents, favorite movies, favorite songs of his and yours. If you asked Leon to name any of those, he’d most likely just stare at you and stutter, not knowing.

The problem wasn’t Joost knowing your favorite things and Leon not. It was the fact that Joost remembered. Joost always remembered the times you told him you’d be going on at, or the places you were going to tour, the stories you told, or even the small little details you had in your conversations, that he would bring up in other conversations.

You couldn’t recall a time where you didn’t have to remind Leon multiple times you had a show and giving him the exact address to where it was, just for him to end up there ten or more minutes after your set, or not show up at all. Leon would never buy you your favorite drinks, or even buy you drinks, or buy you flowers, or take you out on dates.

Maybe it was wrong to compare the two men, they both had different lifestyles. But you’d known Joost for just a few months, much less time than Leon, and yet Joost still treated you better than your own boyfriend.

Because he remembered. He actually listened to you.

“You alright?” Joosts voice brought you out of your thoughts, “You looked really sad for a minute there.”

“Oh, uh yeah, I’m alright.” You waved a dismissive hand, put on your best unbothered expression. It was a weak one.

“You’re not a very good liar. I know somethings bothering you.” He teased, you looked down, deciding if you should try to lie more or tell him the truth, “Did Leon not show up?”

You kept your eyes on the ground and nodded, giving him a sad smile. He let out a coo of sympathy. It made the problem worse since Joost already knew what was wrong, he could read you like a book.

You took in a shaky breath when you tried to speak, you shut your eyes, hoping for the tears building up to subside. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry in front of Joost, you didn’t want him to see you like that.

“It’s just been so long since I’ve seen him in person, and he promised he’d be here on time tonight. He won’t answer my texts again, I don’t see him anywhere.” You gestured a weak hand to the bar, no signs of your boyfriend being anywhere in there. Joost made a gloomy face as a few stray tears fell from your eyes, he wanted nothing more to hold you in this moment.

“And he promised to take me to that restaurant I keep talking about afterwards and…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “God, I feel so stupid crying about this.” You looked to the side, wiping the tears away, only for them to be followed by more.

“Hey. You’re not stupid, you were excited about tonight, I’d be disappointed too if a date night like that got canceled. You know, I’d say he’s the stupid one for missing out on a night with you.” Joost leaned in, making you let out a weak laugh.

“Yeah, he’s the stupid one.” You sniffled and let out a weak laugh as you patted your eyes. “None of my makeup is smudged right?”

“No, wait actually, there’s like a small streak right here.” He pointed to a spot under his eye, attempting to give you a visual representation of where it was.

You attempted to wipe it away, missing completely. Looking at him for clarification that you got it.

“Uh, no it’s- here, just let me…” He trailed off as he brought his thumb to the mascara streak, gently smudging the stain away.

It was such a simple act of kindness, yet something about it felt so loving, so intimate.

After a few seconds of insanely intense eye contact, Joost cleared his throat and rubbed his hands.

“There. Oh, do you need a ride home tonight?”

“How many drinks have you had?” You half-joked.

“Just this one.” He held up his beer, you narrowed your eyes at him teasingly, which told him you knew he was lying.

“Okay I had another before this, but I’m barely even tipsy.” He held up his hands in defense.

“Fine.” You gave him a teasing smile.

The drive home was quiet as always. Yet there was no awkward tension between the both of you, just a comfortable silence.

Joost offered to walk you to your door for safety reasons of course, you would’ve said he didn’t need to, but he seemed adamant about it.

You let him walk you to the start of the steps instead.

Joost looked at you while you looked at your feet in perfect rhythm, both small smiles on your faces. While looking down, you didn’t realize that your boyfriend was watching from your window, a scowl on his face.

You stopped at the foot of the stairs, finally looking up at the blonde boy next to you.

“I think I’ll be okay from here. Thanks for the ride.”

“Yeah, any time. If you ever need something you can call me.” Joost fidgeted with his thumbs, a nervous habit of his that you noticed and found cute in a way.

Both your eyes flickered to one another’s lips, a secret aching to close that gap between them. You took in a deep breath, coming back to the present moment.

“I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed. I’ll see you later.” You waved and made your way up the stairs, barely halfway up the stairs he called out your name. You turned with raised brows, a bit confused.

“Um, I just wanted to say…goodnight, Y/N.” Joost gulped, that’s not what he wanted to say.

“Goodnight, Joost.” You said softly, before both headed in the opposite directions.

You unlocked your door with that same feeling of butterflies in your stomach, only for them to go away and be replaced with a tight knot when you saw Leon leaning annoyed against your kitchen counter, a single lamp on in the entire place.

“Leon? What are you-“

“What were you doing with him?” He cut you off, standing up straight.

“What?”

“Don’t act dumb. That fucker you met from the bar, John.” Your eyebrows creased together, confused at the name, then realizing he got it wrong.

“Joost?”

“I didn’t ask for you to correct me. Just tell me why you were with him.” He put his hands on his hips, a defensive stance.

“He was giving me a ride home, since somebody decided to not pick up their phone.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I had a few work calls I needed to make.” He shrugged, unbothered as he told that shitty excuse he always made.

“Yeah. Of course. Work.” You muttered, turning your back to him to take your jacket off.

“Don’t avoid this, you’re always running around with Joost. Have you been messing around with him?”

“No!” You raised your voice, tone filled with disbelief at the fact he would accuse you of cheating.

“Then why are you constantly hanging around him? I see the way you fucking smile and bat your eyes at him.” He pointed a threatening finger.

“Because it feels like he cares about me more than you!” You snapped.

“Bullshit.” Leon scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“It’s not bullshit, it’s the truth. Joost has shown up to more shows of mine than you have! He's always the one who makes sure I get home safe! He’s done a lot more than you ever have.” You lazily gestured at the man in front of you.

“Then why don’t you go fucking go date him! If you love him so much!” Leon threw his arms up in the air.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” You huffed, “I’m saying it’s unbelievable that a complete stranger I met at a bar has taken better care of me than you.”

“Bullshit, I’ve taken care of you.”

“When? Tell me a time!” You shouted at him, waiting a second for a response. Nothing.

“You’ve never given me a jacket when I’ve told you I’m cold, you barely ever take me out on dates, you’ve left me at the bar and made me walk home alone in the dark several times, you’ve never waited for me after a show!” You continued on with your rant “You’ve rarely even shown up to any of my shows!” You threw your arms in the air as your voice grew louder.

“I’ve told you before I get busy!” Another meaningless excuse.

“Busy with what? You’ve never given me a clear answer! It’s always just work! Yet there's never a clear reason! Why can’t you just take some time out of your day to come and see me? You didn’t even come tonight! And you’re in the goddamn country!” You were nearly screaming at him.

“Because you act like I could give a shit about your dumb fucking shows! You think I wanted to travel seven hours to see one of your boring sets?” He yelled at you, voice full of disgust.

You moved your head back in shock, jaw ajar and trembling as you tried to find the words. He shook his head and looked away, as if he was disappointed that you were upset.

“If you didn’t wanna see me, then why’d you even bother traveling here?” You stared at him with watering eyes, if looks could kill, he’d be dead on the floor. “You know what, if you don’t wanna see me, you can just get out.” You spat out, embarrassing angry tears starting to stream down your face.

“What?” Leon quickly whipped his gaze back to yours.

“Get out of my apartment! Get out! Get the fuck out!” You were shouting at him and pushing at him repeatedly, all the way into the hallway. He stumbled out.

You didn’t really know where all this rage came from, maybe it was the pent up frustration and anger from all the previous months, all the missed shows and ignored messages.

“You know what, fuck you! We’re over!” He pointed a defensive finger at you.

“We are over, asshole!” You yelled back at him, confused when you saw, his jaw clench angrily as he looked behind you.

You turned your head to see what he was staring at, it was Joost. Standing there with his mouth ajar and surprised eyes. Your face dropped.

Joost was shocked, standing there frozen. It was shocking to hear your usually soft and sweet spoken voice shouting and screaming curses at the man, watching your gentle hands shoving Leon harshly into the hallway.

Leon marched past you, muttering something and hitting Joost with his shoulder as he pushed past him, turning the corner and disappearing.

You and Joost stared at each other. He watched as your face crinkled in sadness and you let out a sob before turning and walking back into your apartment.

You were embarrassed that Joost saw you in such an angry and vulnerable state.

Joost was planning to come back, to possibly make that confession he’s been wanting to admit for months.

Instead watched you scream at your now ex boyfriend and saw you cry. Yet he still jogged over to your door, stopping you from closing it.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked worriedly, tilting his chin down to try and make eye contact.

“I think you should go, Joost.” You couldn’t look him in the eyes, you stared at his shoes.

“You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

“I want to be.”

“But you don’t deserve-“

“Joost. Please just go home.” You begged, finally looking up at him with your teary eyes. “Please.”

Though your eyes were puffy, red, and mascara was smudged and stained down your pouty face. Joost still thought you were the most beautiful girl, the most beautiful thing to exist he’s ever seen.

“Okay.” He breathed out, the word barely audible with how soft he spoke.

You mumbled out a thank you and an apology before you shut the door, he heard the locks click and rubbed his hands down his face.

Joost felt horrible for you. He felt ashamed too, like it was his fault in some way. Seeing you in that moment, seeing you like that, all he wanted to do was hold you. Cradle you. Comfort you as you cried.

You wanted the same. Yet, you had no idea why you turned him away, why you isolated yourself tonight. Was that really what you needed? Or just what you wanted?

It was radio silence from you for the next two days. You holed yourself up in your apartment, smothering yourself in blankets and sleeping.

You didn’t know why you were taking the breakup so hard, you were unhappy in that relationship. You felt liberated now, but the harsh words Leon spat out at you hit you hard.

What made it worse was that Joost saw you in such an vulnerable moment. You just felt ashamed and embarrassed.

Joost was nervous, he had another gig tonight that you planned to go to, you said that you would go to it when you found out about it a few weeks ago.

You hadn’t answered his texts, the most you did was open the photo he sent from your last performance. It was a zoomed in photo of you standing behind the curtain, text over it saying:

i see u ^_^

It was silly enough to get a small smile out of you.

Though you said you would show up before, he couldn’t find your face in the crowd anyways. After his show, he texted you, asking you where you were. You gave him a short response:

I wasn’t able to show up tonight. I’m really sorry, I’ll make it there next time hopefully.

Joost frowned to himself, he couldn’t blame nor be mad at you for it. He knew breakups were a tough process, he’s already had his own in the past.

He wasn’t upset, but he wasn’t gonna let you continue to isolate yourself.

Joost rocked on his heels nervously after he knocked on your door, a bottle of wine and a few flowers in his hand.

He did another smell check on himself again, hoping the quick shower he took was enough to wash off the sweat from his show.

He heard the footsteps dragging closer to the other side of the door, a small pause before he heard the lock on the door click.

You opened the door as far as possible until the chain lock stopped it, a very sleepy and gloomy looking you appearing through the gap.

“Joost? What’re you doing here?” You asked tiredly, yawning after you spoke.

“I thought you’d want a small pick me up.” He gave a sympathetic smile, holding up the wine. You stared for a second then shut the door. His face dropped. At least he tried.

Another click and the door slowly opened fully. You leaned against the doorframe lazily. The tear stains on your cheeks were now fully prominent in the overhead lights of the hallway.

“Is that just for me to drink sad and all alone?” You joked, Joost really couldn’t tell if you were.

“Well, we could always share. I won’t pass on wine.” He shrugged. Then letting out a cough as he realized he had forgotten his other gift.

“Oh, I also grabbed these.” He held up the few flowers he had in his fist, “I picked these from the bushes outside, I hope you don't mind. I just didn’t want to show up with only alcohol.” He cleared his throat, the flowers were drooping slightly.

You let out a weak breathy laugh as you took the weak flowers from his hands carefully. You took in a deep breath before moving to the side, giving him a reassuring nod to come in.

You grabbed two glasses out as well as a corkscrew while Joost placed the bottle on the counter.

You both drank in silence for a few minutes, Joost nervously tapped his fingers against his glass.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so depressing.” You trailed off, rubbing the side of your face.

“It’s fine. I know the first week is always the worst.”

“Yeah. I feel like I should be happy, he was an…asshole.” You threw a hand up, letting it fall against the counter. “But I dedicated so much of my time to him, for so long, now it just feels like I…”

“Wasted it?” Joost finished your sentence. You nodded, eyes beginning to water again.

“All I ever wanted was just someone to just…just see me.” You breathed out. “Or just love me. God, I sound so pitiful.” You let out a sad laugh, a stray tear escaping from your eye.

“So many people love you.” He reached out his hand, gently holding yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Like who?” You said before taking another sip from your glass. Joost had already finished his.

Me. Joost wanted to say it so badly, but he didn’t know if it was the right way to say it. He didn’t know if it was the right time to admit it, he never knew when the right time

“More than you realize.” He gave you a reassuring smile, then reached behind with his empty hand feeling for the pack in his pockets. “Do you mind if I smoke?” He asked for your approval before pulling the pack out.

“Uh, no. You- we can just go out on the balcony.” You pointed to the sliding doors.

“You smoke?” He raised his brows at you, surprised a shy girl like you would pick up that habit.

“No. No. I just don’t want to send you out there alone. I’d rather not be alone here either.” You mumbled the last sentence out before getting up, moving to the doors, unlocking and sliding one to the side.

Sitting in the balcony chair opposite from yours, Joost lit his cigarette, trying his best to blow the puff of smoke that came out in the opposite direction from you.

The air was colder than ever now that it was the middle of January. You zipped up the jacket you were wearing. That same jacket Joost gave outside the venue all those months ago. He never realized you were wearing it until now.

He wondered how many times you’ve worn it since then.

And you never would tell him you’ve put it on more times then you could count, it had become an item of comfort.

“I’m sorry you had to see me in such an ugly moment. I never wanted you to see me like that.” You sighed out, rubbing your arms. He looked at you, eyebrows knitting together.

“It wasn’t ugly.” Joost spoke softly, smoke exhaling from his mouth. You smiled weakly, taking the compliment but not fully believing it.

“I don’t think anyone has been so kind to me. Not in the way you have.” You looked at him, sniffling. Joosts face fell soft, a sad sympathetic expression on his face.

“Nobody ever kissed me like you did.” You blurted out, mouth moving faster than your brain.

“Do you want me to do it again?” Joost was a bit surprised at his own words, the small amount of alcohol in his system being just enough to give him a confidence boost.

It gave you one as well.

You didn’t give him a verbal response, instead you closed that large space in between you and him. Quickly crashing your lips into his as you held the side of his face.

His mouth tasted of mint toothpaste and tobacco, the taste almost felt addicting.

You pulled away, both shocked by your sudden movement. Joost abandoned his cigarette, not even caring to stomp it out. He wrapped one arm around your back, the other carefully placed on the side of your face as he pulled you onto his lap and closed the gap between your lips.

Your mouths eloped each other, passionate and hungry for one another. Your hands were roaming all over both of your bodies, your hands moving to the back of his head and raking into his hair while his rubbed all around your waist, face, and back.

It was messy, so needy. Yet it wasn’t like any other kiss you’ve had, there was friction but it wasn’t because of the lust you both felt for one another.

It was fueled by love.

After a good moment of your lips being stuck together, you both pulled away, breathless, lips swollen, and amazed.

“This is so silly.” You looked down, giggling to yourself, then calming down and looking back up at him. “But I’m not drunk.” Your voice was breathless.

“I’m not drunk either, I wasn’t last time.” He stared into your eyes, looking like he was enchanted by you. He practically was.

“I wasn’t either.” You admitted, you’ve wanted to admit that for so long. That the first time he kissed you, when you kissed back, it wasn’t in the heat of the moment. It was what you wanted, it was what you wanted when you were sober.

“Is it too early to say I’m in love with you?” He chuckled, his hands still holding the sides of your face.

“It only took you four months, but I’m good with the time being now. You’re a good kisser.” You held your hands over his, your eyes watering not out of sadness, but joy.

You gave him one more kiss before wrapping yourself around him, hiding your grinning face in the crook of his neck.

This is where you stayed for most of the night, intertwined with each other in the moonlight.

Such a cliché scene, but this is both what you’ve been yearning for so so long. And now that ache in your chests is gone.

#joost klein x reader #joost klein fanfic #joost klein fic #joost x reader #joost klein x fem!reader #requests 🪷

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alms4oblivion · 5 months ago

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My Avatrice Fic Masterpost

Only happy endings here.

Multi-chapter

the bane of my existence (complete, 9/9) - Bridgerton season 2 AU, Avatrice as Kanthony mostly, Regency romance, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, eventual smut (E)

I'm Coming Out of My Cage and I've Been Doing Just Fine -(ongoing, 8/?) - werewolf Bea modern AU, fast burn Avatrice, ambulatory wheelchair user Ava, horror, graphic descriptions of violence (M)

Mrs. & Mrs. Silva (complete, 5/5) - Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU for the 2023-2024 Avatrice Big Bang, Avatrice as wives who don't know they're each other's greatest rival assassin, action, comedy, angst, marital strife (M)

A Practical Guide to Getting Out of the Friend Zone, by Beatrice Adeline Silva (complete, 8/8) - college memoir AU, Beatrice writes the story of how they got together, Ava is her editor, pure comedy, no angst (M)

Friends with my Ex (complete, 12/12) - post-canon post-Holy War mature romance, Ava returns after Beatrice has fallen for someone else, Avatrice friendship to start, then Avatrice endgame, some angst, emotional hurt/comfort, SUPER happy ending (M)

Eating a Pomegranate for the First Time (in progress, 2/2) - stream of consciousness of Ava and Beatrice having sex for the first time, with various internal and external moments of awkwardness, technically smut, romantic, funny, fluff, shorter than my one-shots, inspired by Joyce's Ulysses and a conversation about "why aren't there more fics where the sex is awkward or bad?" (M)

One-shots

I mean it different than you do - Renee Rapp interview AU, singer!Bea gives an interview where she admits she wrong a love song about Ava, Ava confronts her, humor, fluff, description of past angst (M)

See You In Our Dreams - childhood friends AU, Avatrice meet in first grade and become best friends, nostalgia, fluff, and some angst (T)

Seven Minutes In Hell - Halloween special, childhood enemies to lovers, mostly humor, some fluff, very brief angst, the evil twin fic of See You In Our Dreams (T)

A Formal Invitation to Come Inside and Drink My Blood - vamp!Bea, Ava wants to seduce her hot vampire neighbor, humor, crack fic (M)

No Drinking Another Girl's Blood or I Shoot Her With My Crossbow - vamp!Bea Halloween special, Avatrice do Halloween and handle jealousy poorly, still pure humor, hornier than the first one (M)

Untitled Vampire Bea Holiday Special Extravaganza - vamp!Bea Christmas special, still mostly ridiculous humor, but some fluff in this one (M)

A Very Merry Wednesday - Christmas special, anti-Hallmark fic, humor and fluff and comfort and no one finds the spirit of Christmas

Art Others Have Done Of My Fics

The last two images are the wonderful @princington's drawings of scenes from A Practical Guide to Getting Out of the Friend Zone and See You In Our Dreams, respectively (posted with permission).

Sketch of Viscount Bridgerton by frost22 on Bluesky

#warrior nun #avatrice #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #fic list #alms fics #fan art #avatrice fanart #art of my fics

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queerfables · 1 year ago

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I'm still working out what the significance of this is, but I'm now surer than ever:

In season 2, Aziraphale's bookshop is the Garden of Eden.

What first tipped me off was the end of 2x01, when Gabriel asks about Outside, and Crowley urgently warns him that he needs to stay inside the bookshop. It reverberated against the themes of season 1, where choosing freedom over safety is symbolised by Leaving the Garden. Supporting this connection, one of the songs on the season 2 soundtrack is called Leaving the Bookshop; it plays in 2x06 when Crowley escorts Nina and Maggie outside.

There's an even clearer indicator of the symbolism, though, and I am so fascinated by the implications. When Gabriel first arrives at the bookshop in a state of undress, one of the things he says to Aziraphale is:

"Who told you I was naked?"

It's a funny line but it's also surprisingly biblically significant. In Genesis, Adam and Eve's loss of innocence after eating the fruit of knowledge is shown by their realisation they are naked. In this scene, Gabriel is like them before this transgression, innocent and unconscious of his own nakedness.

But it's even more on the nose than that, because in Genesis, when God appears to Adam after he eats the fruit, Adam hides, and then admits he's afraid because he's naked. And I quote directly, Genesis 3:11 (New International Version):

And [God] said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?”

I'm sure this reference is intended. It's too similar to be a coincidence. So Gabriel's memory loss is comparable to the innocence that preceded the Fall of Man, and that's fascinating in its own right. This also makes the bookshop, where he is protected so long as he stays inside its walls, a clear parallel to Eden.

In relation to Gabriel, I think Beelzebub is Eve, offering Adam the knowledge of good and evil in the form of a fly holding his hidden memories. An argument could be made that they are the serpent to his Eve, but I think the partnered dynamic makes this a more fitting interpretation.

I'm still thinking on the roles that Crowley and Aziraphale play in this analogy. I keep coming back to Gabriel's line, "I don't go outside, and now I have two friends." If this is Eden, who are his friends? Are Crowley and Aziraphale reprising their roles as the serpent and the guardian? Are they God and Satan playing games with their own little universe, perhaps? Or are they Adam and Eve?

Obviously, if the bookshop is Eden, this has major implications for Crowley and Aziraphale too in the context of their break up. With this framing, Crowley telling Aziraphale, "You can't leave this bookshop" becomes a fascinating twist on his traditional role. He's asking Aziraphale to stay with him in blissful ignorance, rather than confront the truth of their world. I'm not arguing that this is the only level at which this line should be read, but it's one that's worth considering.

You may also notice that in light of this biblical reference, "Who told you I was naked" becomes the first time amnesiac Gabriel echoes the words of God. I'm really not sure what these echoes mean, but they sure do intrigue me.

#good omens #good omens meta #fable talks good omens

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aylacavebear · 2 months ago

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Take Me Home Tonight

You kept to yourself; you had to, given what you were. It wasn’t that being a hunter meant you had to isolate yourself. It was that being a Touched, you had to keep yourself safe. There was a lot of lore about those who were “touched by the Gods,” and most of it wasn’t flattering. You’d been lucky, though, as you looked completely human. One problem: you were a lot like a cat, in too many ways, including purring. The other problem was that your blood somehow healed you.

Dean x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 10,730

Warnings: SMUT! MDNI, Angst, some Fluff, Plot - if you squint.

AN: So, this was only supposed to be a one-shot, but it will have a part 2. As soon as I have it finished, I'll post it for everyone. This is to celebrate having 300 followers. All of you are amazing. Thank you for loving my writings as much as I do. I don't write smut often, so please be gentle. I do love feedback, though. :) <3 Enjoy. This is based on the song - Take Me Home Tonight by Eddie Money.

----------------------------------------- The bar was dimly lit as you sat near the back, sipping your fifth whiskey. The hunt had been successful, but you hadn’t been able to save the young woman before the vampire had given you that evil smile and drained her before you could move. So, here you were, drinking away your guilt at not anticipating the vampire’s move.

After waiving down the waitress for a refill, you sighed and leaned back in your seat, having tuned out the sounds of the bar. The hunt had been playing on repeat in your thoughts since decapitating the vampire, trying to figure out if you could have changed anything to save her. You were always hard on yourself when you couldn’t save someone.

You didn’t hear the bell over the door, or notice the two men who walked in and sat at the bar. No. Your focus was somewhere else entirely. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the table, one hand around your glass, your gaze at the amber liquid inside.

“I hate vampires,” you whispered to yourself.

I should head back to Bobby’s.

You knew you needed some downtime, having been on the road for months, even with staying in motels along the way. A classic rock song pulled you from your thoughts, hearing the familiar tune now playing in the background. You noticed that there were a few more customers in the bar as you tapped your foot to the familiar beat.

Typically, you would stay in your head after the hunt you’d had, but with the alcohol coursing through your system, you wanted to unwind. You downed the last of your drink before heading over to the jukebox. The whiskey didn’t even burn anymore, but you loved the flavor. Humming to yourself, you looked over the songs available. Take Me Home Tonight it is.

A relaxed smile found your lips as you slipped the quarters in the slots and made your selection. You didn’t really pay attention to the other customers. The song wasn’t really for them. It was for you, and anyone bold enough to approach you. You were a loner, being what you were. But sometimes, you needed the comfort of someone’s arms, even if it was only for one night.

You turned so you were partially leaning against the jukebox, swaying lightly to the music as the song played. With your eyes closed, enjoying how the rhythm felt through your body, you quietly sang along with the words.

His eyes had been on you only moments after he and his brother had entered the bar. Something about you pulled at him in a way he’d never felt with another woman. It was so bad that Sam had to order their drinks before smacking Dean on the shoulder.

“Dude. What the hell?” Sam asked, his brows furrowed in confusion and mild frustration, wondering what the hell had completely distracted him.

Dean took a deep breath, barely unable to look away from you. “Sorry, distracted.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Sam chuckled, taking a sip of the beer the bartender had just set down. “So, what’s captivated your attention so intently that I had to order our drinks?”

Dean wasn’t the type to get swept away by a woman’s appearance. He was the confident one, suave, and all the charm in the world. But something about you, beyond your looks, had his complete attention. “Chick over at the jukebox,” Dean finally answered his brother, motioning with a nod in your direction.

Sam’s gaze went to where Dean had motioned, taking note of the woman swaying to the music: you. Your long hair was down, some over your shoulders, framing your face beautifully. The way your lips occasionally mouthed a few words of the song as it played. Sam shook his head, finding his brother’s appetite for women utterly amusing. He definitely knew how to pick them.

Before Sam could say anything, though, Dean had downed his whiskey and was walking toward you. Sam chuckled and shook his head again, picking up his beer to watch how things unfolded. Dean was typically the confident one, all charm and a cocky attitude to boot. Most women practically fell at his feet if he smirked just right. Something about you just felt different, and he hadn’t even spoken to you yet.

You smelled his scent before he even got close. The whiskey he’d just drank, the leather of a jacket he probably wore often, a hint of mint that made you wonder if it was toothpaste or gum, and a musk that was all him, intoxicating. Quietly singing along with the song, you opened your eyes, wanting to locate the source of that delectable scent.

Now, you were used to men being interested in you; their looks ranged across the board, but never in your life had a man who looked like some Greek God ever noticed you. His green eyes were piercing as they blatantly roamed over your body as it swayed to the rhythm of the song you’d put on. The closer he got, the heavier your breathing became. “So, was that an invitation, or do you just like this song?” he asked, his voice like a seductive melody to your ears.

But your confidence didn’t waiver, a smirk playing at your lips. “Both,” you replied, leaning against the jukebox, looking up at the handsome stranger now standing less than a foot from you. You rested your hands on the jukebox, mainly to help keep them to yourself, itching to trace every inch of this man before you.

Dean licked his lips, sucking his bottom one between his teeth as his eyes roamed over your body, taking note of every curve before his eyes met yours again. You were gorgeous. But there was a mystery to you, a look in your eyes that had him wanting more than just to get his hands on you.

“Well, Sweetheart. We can have a few drinks or just get out of here. Up to you,” The words rolled off his tongue like silk, smooth and deep, shooting warmth directly to your core.

You tilted your head a bit, looking up at him; that smirk that had been playing at your lips had finally claimed them. I must have done something right in a prior lifetime. The thought almost made you chuckle. You tried to keep your eyes on his, beautiful emerald-green orbs that were devouring you where you stood, but when he licked his lips again, the movement pulled your attention. The moment your lips parted, letting out a breath, Dean made his move. He’d been reading people most of his life, and it was clear you wanted him as badly as he wanted you. He had to taste you, and god, did you taste good. Your lips were soft, inviting, and moved against his in a way he wasn’t used to. You hooked your fingers in his belt loops and pulled his hips against yours, making him groan quietly into the kiss.

His lips were plump, succulent, and felt like pillows as they moved against your own. You teased his with your tongue, a quick movement, testing the waters, but you knew you’d be leaving with him. You felt his hands on your hips tighten when you teased his lips, causing you to smirk against his lips.

“Oh, Sweetheart, I think we should take this somewhere a little more private,” he whispered against your lips, his body pressed against yours, his need only growing when you didn’t get shy.

You chuckled, pulling only back far enough to look into his eyes. “My place or yours?” you asked, a mischievous smirk on your lips, but you let your hands roam across his chest. God, those muscles. It practically made you purr, and you knew you had to keep that in check, no matter what this man did to you.

“Mine,” Dean told you in a low, almost commanding tone, making you chuckle a little. This is going to be fun.

“Alright,” you replied nonchalantly, but the smirk on your lips told Dean he was in for a world of surprises with you. And he was looking forward to it. He’d only come across a handful of women, if that, who were confident like you and didn’t get shy around him. “After you,” he gestured, even almost bowing his head a little as his other hand found the small of your back.

From the bar, Sam laughed before turning away and focusing on his beer. He knew he should have gotten his own room but figured after a couple of hours, the two of you should be asleep. Then, he could sneak inside and get some much-needed shut-eye. For now, he’d hang out at the bar, nursing beer until then.

The motel where both of you were staying was only a couple of blocks away, so he walked you there. You hadn’t told him where you were staying, and now, you’d keep it that way once you saw where he was leading you. You didn’t even know his name and hadn’t given him yours. Dean’s hand was on your lower back most of the walk, drifting down occasionally to grab your ass, feeling the slight plumpness of it in his hand.

He wanted to feel every inch of you, but he wasn’t going to rush this. No. You were different. He was going to take his time with you, savor every second, memorize every curve, and taste every piece of your flesh you’d let him. The thought of it alone made his cock twitch in the confines of his jeans.

Your anticipation was building with each step, each breath, and every heartbeat. He didn’t even fumble with the key to his door, like he’d done this numerous times before. You loved his confidence, but you were going to have him at your mercy soon. He gestured for you to enter before he followed you inside, closing the door behind him. The room looked similar to yours, only slightly larger, with two beds. You wondered briefly who he might be bunking with, although you knew it wasn’t a woman, being able to taste the scents with each breath you took. It also looked as though he and whoever else was with him weren’t staying long, as only two small duffle bags were in the room, unopened.

Dean came up behind you, one hand on your hip, the other gently moving your hair to expose your neck. He leaned down as his hand slid tantalizingly slow down your side, resting on your hip. “I’m Dean, so you know what name to yell when I make you come undone,” he whispered before placing those deliciously plump lips on your neck.

You groaned a little, leaning your head back as your hands rested over his. His lips left a trail of hot, slow kisses along your exposed skin. The man knew what he was doing, and that only fueled the fire growing within you. For a bit, you let him tease you, but the moment his fingers went to slip under your shirt, you stopped him and turned in his arms. With a mischievous smirk, you looked up at him before biting your bottom lip, taking a step back, and taking all of him in. Even in the dim lighting of the motel room, he looked intimidating, or at least would have to someone who was normal. You slipped off your shoes with your feet before moving closer to him, standing on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his. Before he could put his arms around you, you began slipping off his flannel, effectively stopping him. Hearing his annoyed groan made you smirk against his lips.

He tried to discard the flannel quickly, but you had begun kissing down his jawline and then along his neck, sending shivers down his body. “I’m Y/N, so you know what name to moan when I make you come undone,” you whispered seductively before nibbling on his earlobe, pulling a guttural growl from him.

When you spoke, his cock twitched in his pants again, and he wasn’t sure how much patience he’d have at this rate. You did things to his body he wasn’t used to, and he wanted more, needed more. Just as you stood flat on your feet again, he managed to get his flannel off, pulling an amused chuckle out of you. Although, you weren’t going to give him a moment to catch his breath, slipping your hands under the hem of his shirt.

Your hands moved slowly over every muscle, every curve, as his hands balled into fists at his sides, trying to keep himself from throwing you down on the bed. God, your touch was intense, both soft but calculated. He leaned down, catching your lips in a quick kiss, his tongue darting out to tease you. Your eyes never left his, which only fueled the fire within both of you further.

Dean loved how you had leaned into the kiss, and had leaned closer when he pulled away. He smirked before cupping your face with both his hands and kissing you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours as your hands sent shivers and heat through his body as they explored his chest and sides. Your body instinctively pressed closer to his, needing to feel so much more of him.

The sounds of the outside world faded as you slowly lifted his shirt without breaking the kiss until he had no choice but to move and remove it. That teasing smirk found your lips again before you bit your bottom one, taking in his muscular form. God, he could probably hold me up like I weighed nothing at all. The thought sent warmth through you, and a small groan slipped past your lips. But you also knew that whatever he did for a living is what had sculpted him into the man that stood before you.

When you saw his tattoo, you paused for only half a second, wondering if he was a hunter. That could be bad in the long run, but you quickly pushed the worry aside. Tonight wasn’t about worrying about that. You’d be gone before he woke, and all he had was your first name. Plus, you had enough alcohol in your system that you didn’t really care at the moment. You’d never see him after this, right?

“My turn,” he smirked, his tone low, husky, almost commanding.

You just gave him that teasing smirk, and before he could even reach for your shirt, your lips were on his chest, leaving a trail of fire along his skin. Dean bit his bottom lip as his hands found your hips, gripping them tightly. He wasn’t used to not being able to control himself, and you were pushing him far past any level of restraint he was used to with a woman. Dean would have been lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying every second of it.

He sucked in a breath, feeling your hands tease his skin again in a feather-light dance along his sides as his hands quickly found yours, stopping them in their tracks. “Careful, Sweetheart. I’m ticklish.” he breathed out. Even if you hadn’t tickled him, you’d touched him in a way he wasn’t used to. There was a tenderness in your touch that made his breath hitch in his chest, and it scared the shit out of him.

“I’ll remember that,” you replied softly, leaning closer to leave a trail of eclectic kisses along his chest.

It took everything in Dean to ignore the strain in his jeans or how your lips felt on his skin. Then there was your hands as they traced every muscle, every curve of his exposed body. All of it was making it nearly impossible to think straight. God and the way your hot breath sent goosebumps down his body was enough to drive him almost mad.

Dean finally managed to slip his hands under your shirt, your skin smooth under his calloused hands, and he felt you moan against his chest. It brought that pleased smirk to his lips when he felt your fingernails press against the middle of his back. Slowly, he slipped your shirt up, causing you to move your hands off of him, giving him the moment he needed to catch his breath as he slipped your shirt off.

You made a mental note of where it landed, even in your passion-induced state. The way his eyes raked over your exposed torso made your breath ragged. It was almost as if you could feel his gaze literally devouring you as you looked into his eyes.

“Beautiful…” he breathed out before capturing your lips in another searing kiss, which you reciprocated as your fingers fiddled with his belt. Luckily, it was a simple leather belt that was easy to get undone.

His hands found your hips, but only briefly before one of his hands made quick work of the button just as you had gotten his belt loose. It was almost a race to see who could be faster, and so far, you were winning. You didn’t even break the kiss as you popped the button on his jeans open, cupping his already hard cock through the denim as your other hand found his zipper.

You smirked into the kiss as he groaned, his hips moving into your touch, needing far more than you were giving him. All he could do was pull you flush against him as you moaned quietly. Just as you felt his hands attempt to tighten on your sides, you slipped down as you slid his jeans to his ankles, looking up at him as you knelt at his feet through your lashes.

Dean let out a ragged breath, wondering just how much longer he’d be able to take his time with you. You had him on the verge of picking you up and pinning you against the wall, an almost desperate need to be buried deep inside you. When that teasing smirk found your lips again, he bit his lower lip as he made quick work of his boots, then kicked off his jeans.

You reached for his boxers, but he was quicker, grabbing both your hands and pinning them behind your back. Then, as he smirked against your lips, he slipped both your wrists into one of his hands, giving him a free hand to tease you with. He chuckled, seeing the glare in your eyes. It wasn’t fair, and he knew it, but he needed you to stop touching him so he could taste you the way he wanted to.

Now that he had you, his lips moved from yours, along your jawline and down your neck as your head tilted back, giving him more access. Electricity ran along your nerves everywhere his lips ventured while his hand slid inside the front of your jeans, causing you to inhale deeply out of surprise and how good it felt. Dean moaned against your pulse point, feeling just how wet you were while his fingers slid along your folds before he removed them from your jeans.

“So wet already, Sweetheart?” he whispered in a low, teasing tone before he sucked your juices from his fingers. “Delicious.”

Your plans sort of flew out the window the moment he had your hands pinned, but the way he teased your body was worth it. Electricity shot through all your nerves with every touch of his hands. His movements weren’t rushed, like he was memorizing every curve of your body, even if your jeans were getting in the way.

With a ragged breath, his lips made their way along your collarbone before dipping even lower, teasing the area just above your breasts. The quiet moans that left your lips were like music to his ears. The way he held you arched your back toward him, making it almost impossible to move, but it was delectable instead of confining.

As his hand cupped your breast, his mouth found your nipple, pulling the most sinful sounds from you, and it was nearly impossible to be quiet. The way his tongue moved over and around your nipple, finding the most sensitive spots, then teasing them as he sucked harder. Your breathing became heavy, your body now craving his touch, needing to feel his skin on yours, but you needed to feel him tense under your touch, not the other way around, no matter how good it felt.

You took a deep breath the moment his mouth left your nipple, now getting hard due to the dampness from his mouth and the slight chill in his motel room. In one swift, quick motion before his lips could claim yours again, you turned, causing him to release your wrists. Before he could even get his hands on you again, you slipped behind him, making him turn.

The tension in the room was palpable. Electricity crackled in the air between the two of you. A teasing smirk toyed with your lips as you looked into his eyes. Those wonderful emerald eyes you would always remember. Placing your hand on his chest, you gently pushed against his chest, and he complied. Dean’s mind was racing at how your confidence and need to be in control never completely waivered, even when he had you at his mercy. The way you’d gotten out of his grip would have made him question you in an entirely different way if circumstances were different and he didn’t need to feel your body under his.

As his legs bumped into the edge of one of the beds, he sat down, not even caring if it was his or Sam’s, but his eyes never left yours. He let you lay him back, your movements slow, teasingly slow, as you ran your hands over his chest, leaving almost featherlight kisses in their wake. Your fingers teased the waistband of his boxers, his head snapping up to watch you as he propped himself up on his elbows, somewhat amused.

It wasn’t often a woman took control with the confidence you showed. He wanted to watch you, but your hand brushed over the bulge in his boxers. His head fell back as a low, almost growl bubbled up from his chest. The warmth of your hand made his cock twitch, slightly painfully in the confines of his boxers.

The way his muscles flexed under your touch quickened your breath, but you were going to take your time, memorize every curve, every muscle, every sound he made. Feeling the size of him, even through the fabric, made you lick your lips, slowly slipping his boxers down, leaving him naked before you. For a moment, you just stood there, staring down at him with your lips parted. He looked up at you when you hadn’t returned to touching him, that cocky smirk on his lips again, making you want to kiss it off of him.

“Like what you see, Sweetheart,” his honeyed words with his cocky attitude made your body quiver with need. The man was gorgeous, and he knew it. So, you just smirked before slipping your jeans off, wearing nothing underneath, now naked as well.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you sassed teasingly, seeing the hunger intensify in his eyes as his cock twitched.

Before he could say a word, you knelt between his legs. The way your hand felt soft around his shaft had him clenching the blankets of the bed. He still had most of his control at the moment, though, keeping himself from just taking over and pinning you to the mattress so he could taste every inch of you. However, he couldn’t stop the moan that came out when he felt your warm breath on the head of his cock.

The sound that came from him went straight to your core, your walls clenching around nothing. You wondered how much of him you’d be able to take in your mouth, but you were up for the challenge, having figured out how not to gag. For a moment, you let your warm breath fan over the tip of his cock before placing soft, slow kisses along his shaft, holding the base firmly but gently with your hand. His entire body was tense as the pleasure coursed through every part of him at your ministrations. Your lips were soft, your grip firm but gentle, and your confidence in what you were doing was nearly too much for him to keep from taking over. The moment you took him into your mouth, though, his hand went to your hair, gripping it with practiced ease.

You hummed, sending a shiver down his body as he twitched in your mouth, indicating you were both enjoying every moment. Slowly, you began moving your mouth on him, up, then down, sucking him like a straw in a milkshake and letting your tongue conform to his shape, sliding along his shaft. Dean did his best to keep himself from getting lost in the feeling, but the skill of your mouth was fogging his mind. His grip in your hair tightened, and when your lips reached the tip, he encouraged you to move faster by pressing a little against your head. The way he tasted on your tongue had your body on fire, needing to feel him inside you, but you were enjoying him being at your mercy.

“Y/N…” he moaned quietly, and you could hear the plea in his undertone, almost begging for you to speed up.

You smirked internally, focusing on his body, his moans, his hand in your hair, and his cock in your mouth. Since his request had been so nice, you did speed up, teasing the tip with a couple motions before sliding back down, almost to the base. His hips instinctively thrust gently upward, pressing the tip of his cock down your throat. You didn’t gag but stopped your movements, then hummed again.

Dean had no choice, he had to pull your mouth off of him, or he was going to cum right then and there. He was breathing heavily as he sat up, still holding onto your hair. When he saw a smirk on your lips, though, he almost growled, looking down at you between his legs. No woman had gotten him that close, that fast before.

“My turn,” he told you with a look that said you were in for more than you had prepared yourself for. He still hadn’t let go of your hair, and you wondered just how much you could push him before he pinned you and fucked you into the mattress.

“What? Too much?” you asked, feigned coyness lacing your words. You knew exactly what you’d done and how close you had him.

He just groaned, his gaze nothing but lust as he gently lifted you closer to his face. “Sweetheart, don’t make me cuff you to the bed,” he warned in a low, seductive tone, but you had a feeling he’d actually do it. That only made your legs quiver slightly as another wave of heat washed through you.

Dean truly debated cuffing you to the bed. Your boldness and feigned coyness reminding him not to underestimate you. A devilish smirk found his lips as his grip loosened in your hair. “My turn,” he told you again, and you didn’t miss the glint of excitement in his eyes as he gently helped you stand with him.

His cock pressed against your lower abdomen, and you wanted so badly to purr at the feeling and the thoughts that played through your mind. God, I can’t. He’ll ask too many questions. So, you focused on his eyes, taking in the lust and desire in his expression. Your hands reached out to touch his chest, but he quickly stopped you, grabbing your wrists before they could make contact with his skin.

So, you gave him a pout, hoping it’d work and he’d let you continue enjoying his body. “I will cuff you,” he warned in a low growl. Damnit! “But, how is that fair?” you asked, still pouting.

In one swift motion, Dean had you on the bed on your back, making you squeal in surprise. However, as you giggled and attempted to sit up, he had already found his jeans and the cuffs in his back pocket. Your eyes went wide when he climbed on top of you, only able to pay attention to how he felt over you as he cuffed your wrists to the headboard.

With a smirk, his eyes never left yours. God, you looked delicious under him, and he was going to take his time. “I warned you, Sweetheart,” he whispered before letting his fingers move slowly down your arms, feeling the softness of your skin.

You glared at him, tugging against the cuffs as you looked up at them. You heard him chuckle, a deep sound rumbling from his chest at your predicament. When your eyes met his again, he’d moved off of you, licking his lips and debating where he wanted to start first. In all honesty, you hadn’t exactly given him another option. If he hadn’t cuffed you, he wouldn’t be able to take his time, and he desperately wanted to hear and see you come completely undone, by him.

Dean hadn’t decided yet if he’d uncuff you. Seeing the glare in your eyes only fueled the fire you’d lit within him back at the bar. He leaned down, only a sliver of space between your lips, that pleased smirk on his face again. You could feel his warm breath mixing with yours as your heart rate picked up again. Most of the men you’d been with couldn’t please you, not the way you needed.

He didn’t kiss you, no. Instead, his hands began slowly exploring your curves as his lips trailed along your jaw, then slowly down your neck. You held back your moans at his touch. It felt like your skin was on fire. “Tease,” you mumbled grumpily, but it was only to annoy him, make him touch you where you needed him to.

All he did was chuckle darkly against your pulse point, sucking softly at first, then harder as one of his hands slid up your side, cupping your breast. You bit your bottom lip, trying not to move into his touch. Part of you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he was doing to you, but when his fingers tweaked your nipple just the right way, a moan slipped past your lips.

“That’s what I thought,” he stated, his tone low, gruff, and almost smug.

You took a deep inhale of breath when you felt his lips leaving a hot trail over your collarbone, along your throat, and then down your chest as you tried not to squirm beneath him. For a brief moment, you wondered how many women he had been with, as he clearly knew what he was doing to get the sounds he was after. Or, perhaps, he was just more perceptive than most men. Either way, you lost your train of thought when his mouth latched onto your nipple, teasing it just right with his tongue.

There was no keeping the moan from coming out, and you felt him smirk against your skin as your back arched, needing more. Dean took one breast in each hand, kneading them while his fingers teased the nipple his mouth wasn’t enjoying. God, you felt amazing under him, and the sounds you made had his cock throbbing with need. All he wanted to do was bury himself deep inside you, but not before he tasted your sweetness. You struggled against the cuffs restraining you, wanting to dig your nails into his skin, feel the strength of his muscles under your touch. It was infuriating and intoxicating, all at the same time being unable to touch him as he touched and teased you in ways no man had before. When he felt he’d tasted your nipple enough, he moved to the other one, getting lost in the sounds you tried not to make.

That coil began tightening, your walls clenching around nothing. You needed more. God, you needed more. You tried rubbing your thighs together, since he was straddling you, holding you in place beneath him, but it wasn’t enough.

Dean chuckled, feeling your movements, then released your nipple with a pop while his fingers teased both your nipples, making you gasp. Just the right amount of pressure in all the right places. He was observant; hunting had taught him that, and right now, he was reading you like an open book. He knew what you wanted, needed. However, he was enjoying the feel of you, the taste of you, and the sounds he could pull from you. When he finally began sliding his hands down your sides, you attempted to steady your breathing, his lips leaving searing kisses along your skin. Whenever he found one of your spots, he gave it more attention, sucking hickeys into your skin. He wanted you to remember tonight for days to come, longer if possible.

He didn’t go straight to where you wanted him. Instead, he trailed kisses to just above your mound, then slowly down your thigh, lifting your leg so that your foot was over his shoulder. The little whimpers that left your lips the further down your leg he got only made his cock twitch more. The sounds you made were like a sweet melody, and he could listen to it for hours.

It was like he had known how close he had gotten you, just from teasing your nipples, choosing to keep you needy. You were seriously considering using your retractable claws to get out of the cuffs but knew better; no matter how badly you needed to fuck him, you couldn’t do that. As your breathing was slowly evening out, he was already making his way up your other leg, keeping the first over his shoulder. Dean left kisses along your inner thigh, sucking in places that made you squirm again. He found it interesting that you hadn’t had a spot near your ankle, like most women did, but it didn’t deter him. He’d just find others, and that was precisely what he was doing. Carefully, he nestled himself between your legs but chose to slide his right arm over your thigh, effectively pinning your lower half. You looked down at him, those emerald orbs filled with lust as they devoured you, and goosebumps danced down your body. For a moment, neither of you moved, the moment frozen as your lips parted at the sight. He was intoxicating, but there was something more there, and it scared you. So you quickly pushed that feeling away as his head dipped down, trailing his tongue over your slick folds.

Instinctively, your hips tried to move into the sensation, needing more, but he held you firmly in place. He hummed in pleasure. You tasted divine. Dean could have stayed there for hours, just tasting you. Something about you was different, in the most delicious ways. The moment his tongue found your clit, your mind no longer worked. A jolt of pleasure shot through your body as your walls clenched around nothing.

“Dean...” you moaned out quietly, almost pleading for more.

His other hand left featherlight touches along your inner thigh, moving slowly toward where you needed him. Your body shifted and moved against his hold, but you were unable to make him go any faster than he wanted to. Dean felt like he was in heaven as he sucked your clit between his lips, slowly teasing the bundle of nerves with his tongue, noting what made you try to move, what made you try to keep quiet, and what made your body tremble under his hold. His fingers found your entrance, slipping two inside. You couldn’t stop the low growl of pleasure that rumbled up from deep in your chest. God, please don’t let him notice, you mentally prayed, knowing it was far more animalistic than you had wanted it to come out.

In any other circumstance, Dean would have questioned you, but the sound made his cock not only twitch but throb as precum dripped from the tip. The sound had sent a rush through his body, which he wasn’t prepared for, and he thought he might come right then and there. That coil had quickly tightened within your abdomen; your muscles tensed as your walls squeezed his fingers. The heat that pulsed through your body had you almost panting. Dean reached his other hand up, his fingers tweaking your nipple as he moved his fingers in and out of you, making sure to tease that spot deep inside with every thrust. He sucked your clit a little harder, finding just the right spot with his tongue.

You’d never screamed any man’s name before, but at that moment, when your orgasm pulsed through your body in waves, Dean’s name reverberated off the walls of his motel room. Hell, you swore that you saw stars when it hit you, but you didn’t have time to think as he continued, helping you ride out every second of the pleasure. What neither of you expected was the moment you almost completely came down, you began building towards another one.

It surprised him. Most women he had to coax more out of. If Dean had been thinking clearly, he probably could have formulated questions, but you were delicious. He sped up his movements with his tongue as he thrust his fingers faster, harder, teasing the sensitive spot inside you. You were nothing more than a panting, moaning mess when he didn’t stop, pulling against the cuffs that kept your upper half in place while his arm kept your lower half in place.

No man had ever played your body like he was. You typically had to take care of yourself after you would sneak out and back to your motel room. Dean didn’t give you much time to think about that as your second orgasm crashed through you. He chuckled when you couldn’t make a single coherent word as he rode you through the pleasure. You were groaning with need as your body tried to move when he slowly pulled his fingers from your fluttering walls and his mouth from your clit. He sucked his fingers clean, not letting his mind wander to things it shouldn’t. Dean used the corner of the bedding to wipe your juices from his chin and mouth before climbing on top of you, caging you in.

All you could do was meet his eyes, your hips moving seductively against his, needing him to fuck you. “I’m going to uncuff you. Behave yourself,” he told you with a look that sent a tantalizing shiver down your body.

You watched him retrieve the keys, then climb over you again, his gaze never leaving yours, even as he unlocked the cuffs. Slowly, you pulled yours down, letting them rest on his shoulders, almost purring at his muscular frame. Dear God, don’t let me purr. He had the cuffs and keys on the nightstand in seconds before his lips were on yours again, needy, desperate, but also almost intimate.

Every time your hips moved against his, rubbing his cock along your wet folds and clit, he groaned, his hips instinctively moving with you. He reached between your bodies, lining himself up with your entrance, never breaking the kiss. Dean had planned to go slowly, give you time to adjust to his size, but you were having none of that.

You wrapped your legs around the backs of his thighs, bucked your hips, and pulled him into you, making the both of you moan with how good it felt. Dean bit down on your shoulder when you rolled your hips, pushing him even deeper into the warmth of your fluttering walls.

“If you don’t fuck me, I’m going to fuck you,” you whispered before nibbling on his earlobe, pulling another groan from him as he snapped his hips hard.

Dean shifted so that he was more on his knees, your legs around his waist, and now, his hands found your hips. The smirk on your lips had him committing the moment to memory. “I’ll fuck you, but it’ll be the way I want to,” he told you in that same commanding tone.

With that, he slowly withdrew till only the head of his cock was inside you, pausing for a brief moment as the pout began forming on your lips. Then, he slammed into you, making your back arch off the bed. Dean’s smirk turned devilish as he did it again, watching your face contort from an almost pout to sheer pleasure.

The way he held your hips kept you from moving with him, and it was driving you insane. His slow withdrawal was an utter tease. Then the way he slammed back into you and hit that spot inside while also hitting your clit was keeping you close without pushing you further. It was delightfully infuriating and had you attempting to squirm for more.

However, the moment he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, you used the moment to roll the two of you so you were on top. If the action hadn’t sent a thrill through his body, he would have questioned it. Were your walls not fluttering around his cock as it twitched inside you, he would have questioned you.

“I said if you didn’t fuck me, I was going to fuck you,” you told him, grabbing the headboard as you ground against him, rolling your hips.

Dean’s head went back into the pillow while his hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. Then, when you began moving, rolling your hips like you were, he knew he wasn’t going to last long. However, he also knew you were close and bucked his hips, keeping in sync with your movements.

You leaned down, getting a better angle, but the moment you did, his mouth found your nipple, latching on as the most sinful sounds left your lips. He moved your hips, grinding you against him as your walls gripped his cock just before your orgasm crashed through your body. When you didn’t stop moving, riding out the waves of pleasure and screaming his name, your name left his lips as he came, buried deep inside you.

Your hands slipped from the headboard, resting on the pillows beside his head, your hair a mess, your breathing ragged, but all Dean could do was smile a little. You were beautiful. His hands moved to your back, pulling you flush against his chest while you both enjoyed the afterglow of your shared pleasure.

Neither of you moved for a while, enjoying the comfort of each other’s arms. Not even after his cock had softened and slipped out of you. Being hunters, neither of you got close to people. For you, though, you had another reason. Slowly, you moved so that you were lying beside him, not quite ready to leave.

Dean, though, got out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. Heen returned with a warm, damp washcloth. You watched him with curiosity as he cleaned you and then himself before he tossed the washcloth back into the bathroom, landing it in the sink. Then, he climbed back into the bed and pulled you close.

So, you let yourself enjoy him and the comfort you felt in his arms. He had treated you like no other man had, like you were more than just a means to his end. Dean just wasn’t ready to let you go, but at the same time, knew he had to. For him, he’d pretend, even if just for the night, that you were his and that he wouldn’t leave before you woke in the morning.

You listened to his breathing and his heartbeat while pretending to fall asleep yourself. With you in his arms, he'd completely forgotten to text Sam, but right now, he couldn't care less.

He didn't want to think about how perfectly you fit against him or how holding you close eased the tension in his muscles. It wasn't long before he slipped off to sleep, and that was your cue.

Carefully, you slipped out of his bed, making sure not to disturb him. With silent footsteps, you gathered your clothes, dressed, and then snuck out of his motel room.

You didn't see the man across the street watching you as you walked a few doors down to your own room. Moving quickly, you packed the few things you had out, then went back outside and to your car.

After tossing your bag into the backseat, you drove away. Sam made a mental note of the license plate number, then headed into his and Dean's shared room.

Sam deadpanned, seeing his brother passed out in his bed and Dean's clothes tossed haphazardly around the room. With a frustrated sigh, he wrote down the plate number before hitting the sack in the unused bed.

—---------------

As the sun rose, casting away the shadows of the night, you were singing along to a random song on a random station. Maybe I should have called Bobby first. It'd been a few months since you'd seen the man who had cared for you after you had lost your parents.

Just a few more hours. The thought made you smile, and you always told yourself you would make a better effort to stop by and see him. And, every time, you ended up getting caught up in hunting. At least you remembered to call him, often.

When you pulled into his driveway, you let out a relieved sigh, killing the engine. Then, you grabbed your bag and headed to the door but never got the chance to knock.

“You had better not have even thought about knocking,” Bobby scolded you.

You looked down, about to apologize, when he laughed and pulled you into a hug. As you wrapped your arms around him, laughing with him. “I missed you too, old man,” you replied teasingly.

“Now come inside and get something to eat. I know you didn't sleep last night either,” he told you as the two of you went inside.

For the next several hours, the two of you talked, catching up on the things both of you had been up to. You made the both of you some lunch, eating together in the living room. It was the purr of a beautiful engine that pulled your attention to the window in the living room.

“You expecting company?” you asked Bobby as you tried to make out what kind of car it was. For a moment, Bobby wasn't sure what you were talking about, but then remembered how good your hearing was. “No, but sometimes people drop in an say hi, like you,” he chuckled.

—---------------------------

When Dean woke, the other side of the bed was empty. He found it slightly amusing since he was typically the one to do the leaving. The part that scared him was that he found himself missing you. He let the events of the night replay in his mind as a sigh slipped past his lips.

“You planning on sleeping the day away?” Sam asked from the table, having been up for over an hour already.

Dean sat up with a slight groan. His muscles hurt in all the right ways, and he couldn’t help but smile a little. Man, she was something else. Sam kept his eyes on his laptop as Dean got out of bed, that smile still on his lips as he attempted to find his clothes from the night before and got dressed.

As Dean sat down across from Sam, a cup of coffee in his hands, Sam finally looked up at him, chuckling slightly at his bedhead. “Aren’t you normally the one to leave before the chick wakes up?” Sam teased him.

“Normally,” Dean chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “She was something else, though,” he added with a sigh.

Sam raised an eyebrow, “I got her plate number after she left last night.”

Dean’s head snapped up, “She left that soon?” “Yeah. I watched her from across the street a couple hours after you left the bar with her. I never got a text from you, but figured that a couple hours was plenty of time,” Sam replied nonchalantly.

“Shit. Sorry about that,” Dean apologized sheepishly, taking a sip of his coffee. That was when the other thing Sam had said finally sunk in as a smirk toyed with his lips. “Did you run her plate number?” He asked quizzically.

Sam chuckled with amusement, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah. I did that when I got up. Why?” He was going to have some fun with this one, having quickly figured out that his brother was far more into you than he typically was with any woman he’d had a one-night stand with.

Dean gave his brother an instant bitch face, not having had enough coffee for Sam’s antics. “And?” His annoyed tone only fueled his brother's amusement further.

“And, I’m pretty sure she’s a hunter, given the information I found online. She’s got at least four aliases, and has helped out on a lot of cases. Her names are on tons of police reports across the country,” Sam explained as he focused on his laptop screen again, clicking around. “Oh, and her actual name is Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Wait, I’ve heard that before,” Dean stated quickly, now attempting to wrack his brain as to where he’d heard your name before. It was on the tip of his tongue and driving him crazy that it wouldn’t come to him.

It was Sam’s turn to raise an eyebrow as he looked over at his brother. “If she’s a hunter, it would make sense you heard her name before.” Dean’s brow furrowed. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, I know that name, Y/L/N. I just can’t remember where I heard it.”

Sam chuckled, “Finish your coffee. Then we’ll pack up, get some breakfast, and finish the drive to Bobbys.”

Dean’s thoughts were on your last name, trying desperately to remember where he’d heard it. It was like this while he finished his coffee, packed up his things, had breakfast with his brother at the diner, and then while he drove. He only half heard anything Sam said as the day progressed, and he never once turned on any music.

His mind had gone over past cases, other hunters he had spoken with, even the things written in his dad’s journal, but nothing was coming to mind. “You gonna spend the whole drive thinking about her?” Sam chuckled from the passenger seat. You were probably the only woman that had ever gotten to Dean like this.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, his grip on the steering wheel tightening some while Sam tried to stifle his amusement. “I’m telling you, I’ve heard that last name before.”

“Is that all it is?” Sam teased him, earning him another bitch face. “It was that good, huh?” he chuckled before deciding to shut up before he pushed his brother too far. Sam loved picking on his brother, but he knew when to drop a topic.

When Dean pulled into Bobby’s driveway, he was a little surprised to see another vehicle parked in his spot. Sam, on the other hand, sat forward a little, instantly recognizing the car. She knows Bobby? He glanced over at Dean, who only looked annoyed that his spot was taken up by some stranger. That’s when he realized that Dean didn’t know the car belonged to you and was going to enjoy the surprise on his face.

“Bobby’s got company,” Dean grumbled, killing the engine.

“He helps a lot of hunters,” Sam shrugged as he got out of the Impala.

They headed up the steps and Dean knocked on the door, being respectful, even if Bobby was like an adopted father to the two of them.

—---------------------------

The moment the door opened and he saw you, he was speechless. Sam was doing his best not to bust out in laughter at not only Dean’s shock and surprise, but also yours. You thought you’d never see him again after you’d snuck out of his motel room, and he thought the same.

“Who is it, Y/N?” Bobby hollered from the living room, pulling you and Dean from your thoughts.

“Not sure. Looks like a couple of hooligans,” you replied with a smirk as Dean gave you his bitch face, not amused.

Bobby had a feeling he knew who it was, but went to the door anyway, just to make sure. Seeing who it was, Bobby chuckled at what you had called him, shaking his head. “It’s just the Winchesters. Let 'em in, Y/N.”

You opened the door the rest of the way before heading into the living room, not entirely sure how to react. This was the first time you’d run into a one-night stand after the fact. After returning to your seat, you grabbed your beer and finished it off, just as the three of them entered the living room.

“Sam, Dean, this is Y/N. She’s practically my daughter, so behave yourselves, or I’ll let her kick your ass for being disrespectful,” Bobby stated sternly, and Dean froze as his eyes met yours.

Shit, I’m a deadman, Dean thought to himself as the realization finally hit him as to where he had heard your last name before, but it had been years ago. It wasn’t helping that you were acting as though the two of you hadn’t had the most amazing sex of his life the night before. He watched as you stood, extending your hand to each of them.

“Nice to meet the two of you. Bobby’s mentioned you two idjits a few times,” you told them both teasingly and playfully.

God, the mouth on her. Those lips… Dean shook his head before shaking your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. That was when Bobby’s hand came up and smacked the back of his head. “Owe! What was that for?!” Dean grumbled as he rubbed the back of his head. You just chuckled before sitting down, noticing that Sam had done the same.

“If she doesn’t kick your ass, I might,” Bobby warned him. “She doesn’t need you leadin’ her on.” And with that, he sat back behind his desk, sipping his whiskey and keeping an eye on Dean and where his eyes wandered.

Dean gave you a questioning glare but chose to sit down and not look directly at you after that one. Sam had a hard time not laughing at the entire situation. It was clear you hadn’t said a word to Bobby about your night before or that you at least knew Dean’s name. He wasn’t about to be the one to say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was be the one to spill the beans. Plus, this was far more amusing.

You played it cool, pretending as though last night hadn’t been the most amazing night of your life. Hell, you had to after what Bobby said. It wasn’t like you needed your practical father knowing you had one-night stands from time to time. Then there was what he said about Dean, and it made you wonder if he was like other typical hunters, leaving behind a trail of women from every case he took.

For the next several hours, they caught up on each other’s lives. You mostly listened. At least now you remembered where you had heard Dean’s name before. Thanks to the alcohol and the way he had made your body feel, you hadn’t even thought twice about it the night before. When you went to go cook something for dinner, Dean glanced over, but only slightly, watching the gentle sway of your hips.

Bobby wasn’t stupid. He’d practically raised you. He just wasn’t going to pry into things that were none of his business. You were an adult, after all. However, he wasn’t about to let anything happen in his house with his daughter, well, adopted daughter, technically. Bobby leaned back in his chair, sipping his whiskey, watching Dean. The old man didn’t miss much.

“Go help Y/N with dinner,” Bobby told Dean, his tone stern. “And keep your hands to yourself.”

Dean didn’t say a word but quickly got up and joined you, leaning against the counter. At first, he wasn’t sure what to even help with, so he focused on doing the few dishes that were in the sink. You watched him from the corner of your eye as you set things up on the counter and stove. Neither of you spoke for a while, the tension in the kitchen building as each silent second passed.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Dean whispered, not wanting Bobby to hear.

“When?” you whispered, focusing on cooking instead of looking over at him. You weren’t sure if he meant the night before or when he and his brother showed up at Bobby’s.

“Last night? Today? Pick one,” he grumbled quietly.

You glanced over at him, then back at the food. “Would it have mattered?”

He knew you had a point. It wasn’t like the two of you were anything to each other, but he couldn’t shake the way you’d make him feel when he had held you afterward. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it. “No,” he sighed. “Guess not.” And with that, he began setting the table.

You felt a pang in your chest but reminded yourself that it had only been a one-night stand, no matter how it had felt being in his arms afterward. So, you focused on finishing dinner, keeping up that mask to hide the things you didn’t want to deal with. Being a Touched was lonely and for a little bit, Dean had made all those feelings go away. You just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that now.

Bobby knew something was up, but he wouldn’t broach the topic, not in front of the brothers. He silently watched you, Dean, and Sam while interacting with the conversation over dinner. The boys were planning on heading out in the morning for another case. You were going to hang around for a few days, which he appreciated, even if he couldn’t always say it.

After dinner, when you went to do the dishes, Bobby stopped you and then told the brothers to take care of the cleanup. So, you went to shower, pushing your thoughts aside. Pajamas were a pair of sweats and a slightly baggy, comfy shirt. You took a moment to listen to what was being said before standing in the entryway of the living room.

“I’m heading to bed. It was nice to meet the two of you. Be safe out there,” you told the brothers before giving Bobby a hug.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Y/N,” Sam replied, but Dean said nothing, terrified of the emotions you evoked in him.

You kept that hunter's mask up as you went to your room. It was just a one-night stand. Get it together already, you mentally berated yourself as you stared at the ceiling from your bed. Even though you hadn’t slept since the night before last, you didn’t want to sleep, almost afraid you’d dream of him.

Over the course of the day, you had learned that you and Dean had a lot in common but had kept your mouth shut. Luckily, Bobby hadn’t said anything either. “God, this is stupid,” you mumbled as you finally got yourself comfortable under the covers for the night. Your mind wasn’t quite ready to drop the topic of Dean, and it took you another hour before you could fall asleep.

Morning came, like it always did, and you just looked at the light trying to penetrate the drawn curtains. You didn’t get out of bed, though. Your dreams were still playing on repeat in your head. All of them of Dean. Hunting with him and his brother. Being with him. The part that scared the hell out of you was that in the dreams, it all felt so… right, like it was meant to be, just like how it had felt when he held you close that night.

It was hearing the Impala’s engine that made you finally get out of bed and go to your window. Gingerly, you reached out and moved the curtains so you could see. Dean was behind the wheel, and Sam was saying something to Bobby. However, when you looked back at Dean, he was looking up at you. There was something in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat while at the same time, took your breath away.

I’m glad I got to feel that with someone, even if it was only for one night, and I’ll never see you again.

—--------------------------

Dean couldn’t get you out of his head. You’d acted like it was only sex that night, but something kept nagging at his chest. It was both driving him insane and scaring the hell out of him. He had only half interacted with Bobby and Sam the night before after you’d gone to bed. You were a puzzle to him, a mystery, and no matter how badly he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he wanted to figure you out and learn everything he could about you.

God, what’s wrong with me? It was the one main thought that kept circling his mind as he had tried to find sleep on Bobby’s couch while staring at the ceiling. His gaze kept drifting to the hallway that led to where your room was. He wanted to ask you about so many things, but he was both terrified of the emotions you brought out in him and of Bobby kicking his ass for having already touched you.

When you hadn’t come out of your room that morning, he felt his heart sink. He wanted to see you, even if you didn’t feel a thing for him. He knew he felt something for you. Sam tried a few times to engage him in conversation, but Dean’s focus was on his coffee, and thoughts of you.

Now, sitting behind the wheel of his Baby, he dared to look up at Bobby’s house, not sure which window was yours. He tried to just focus on the purr of the engine, but the moment he saw you at your window, he couldn’t look away. The way the sun hit you just right, dancing off your features through the window. Your hair still messy from sleep. To him, you looked like an angel for a moment, and the look in your eyes caught him off guard. There was something there. Something that made his heart skip a beat and butterflies dance in his gut.

“Earth to Dean,” Sam’s voice pulled his gaze for a brief moment before he looked back at your window, but you were gone. “Are we going or just sitting here?”

“We’re going,” Dean grumbled, and with that, he drove away, trying not to wonder if he’d ever see you again, or that pull in his chest to go back, to you.

—---------------------------------

You hadn’t even bothered changing out of your pajamas when you joined Bobby in the living room after getting some coffee. There was no hiding that you were dealing with something, and he could instantly see it, letting out a quiet sigh as he leaned back in his seat. Bobby had done a lot of research on Touched, especially those from Bastet. “You found it, didn’t you,” he asked with both sincerity and concern.

Without looking up from your cup, you answered him. “Yeah,” you whispered, as you hadn’t wanted to admit it, mainly because Dean hadn’t seemed to feel it, the pull you did, or the pain of walking away. You didn’t want to admit that he was your soulmate, and now, you were a little worried about possibly being pregnant.

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