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milla-frenchy · 7 months ago

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A summer with the Millers

4k2 | Joel Miller x fem reader x Tommy Miller | ao3 | Masterlist | series masterlist Summary: you come back to your father's house for summer vacation and want to get closer to your crush (your dad's best friend) and his brother Warnings: 18+ mdni. dubcon (alcohol), mfm, age gap (reader is 21, Tommy and Joel are in their late 30s, early 40s), virgin reader, eager reader, dirty talk, degradation, masturbation, oral (m/f), ball sucking

a/n: dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏❤️ @aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing, love you 💕🫶

It was the beginning of summer, and you were coming back to Austin for vacation. Now you lived in the north of the country for your studies, not too far from your mother, since your parents had divorced several years ago. You hadn't been back in Texas since last summer, and you were delighted to see your father. You couldn't wait to enjoy the heat and the pool. You were about to spend several weeks here, and you had been looking forward to the holidays so much that you almost twirled around as you headed towards the airport parking lot to meet your father.

Your phone buzzed, and you saw the text message.

“Sorry, sweetie, I had a setback at work, I'm really sorry. Tommy is coming to pick you up from the airport. I'll see you home very soon. See you tonight, I can’t wait!"

You were a little disappointed not to see your father right away, but Tommy? He was your dad’s best friend, and you had known him for a long time. You’d had a big crush on him for a couple years, and your disappointment quickly gave way to a slight tightening in your heart.

You reached the parking lot where Tommy was already waiting for you, leaning against his car, smoking a cigarette. He threw it away as soon as he saw you and gave you a big smile before taking you in his arms.

“Hey, darlin’! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!”

You pulled away from each other, and you weren't sure if your brain was playing tricks, but you felt like you caught his gaze quickly checking out your body.

“Damn, look at you all grown up!”

You smiled at his warm welcome, and your grin reached your ears when he opened the passenger door as a perfect gentleman to let you settle in. When he got behind the wheel and started off, that time you were sure, his eyes lingered for a second or two on your bare legs, which your short skirt barely covered. You smiled. It was going to be a good summer, you were sure of it.

The radio was playing a cool 70s rock song, and you leaned your head against the headrest.

“How old are you now, darlin’? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

"I'm 21. And it hasn’t been that long, I was here last summer,” you replied, laughing.

“Wow, really? Well… you seem like a whole different person now. How are your studies going?”

"Alright! I love studying classic literature. I feel good at my uni but I’m happy to be back in Texas.”

“I bet you do! How’s your mother?”

“She’s fine too. She has a new boyfriend. Well, it's been almost a year now.”

“Alright. I hope he’s not a pain in the ass to ya?”

“No, he’s ok”, you replied.

The trip continued with a really smooth conversation between the two of you. A few times, your eyes dared to linger on his hands placed on the steering wheel. His veins were prominent and his forearms muscular, and you couldn't help but wonder what his hands would feel like on you. “They’d make a perfect collar around my neck…” you giggled softly at the thought. Apparently your crush was stronger than ever. And you were hornier than ever.

You realized Tommy was talking to you and you hadn’t paid attention.

“Mmm, excuse me?” you asked.

“What was your pretty head thinking about?” he asked, looking at you a little longer than usual.

“Oh, nothing special…I’m just glad to be back.”

“I’m glad too, darlin’.” He checked out your legs when you were looking out of the window and couldn't catch him staring, before pulling into your father's driveway and wishing you a good afternoon.

You watched his car back out of the driveway, then he parked in front of his house. The house next to your dad’s. You waved Tommy goodbye when he looked at you before entering his house. You definitely didn't regret that he came to get you instead of your father.

The sun was flooding the dining room. Photos of you and your father adorned the walls. You missed him terribly every year. You called each other often, but of course it wasn't the same as seeing him every day. Like before.

Your bedroom was as you had left it. Everything in its place, every book, every photo, every memory. You lay down on your bed and stroked the soft blanket with your fingertips. For a few moments, your childhood memories came back to you. A bittersweet melancholy of a bygone time.

Quickly you thought about Tommy, and how he had checked you out in the car. It hadn’t been that long since you’d seen each other, but he seemed to like you. Differently. At least you hoped so, and you would soon check if that was indeed the case. As usual, he would often come over to your dad’s house to watch a football game, have a beer, or enjoy the pool. On Sunday, there would be the usual early summer barbecue. You couldn't wait to go through your closet and pick a dress that would make him salivate.

But first you needed to get off. Your fingers slid down your body. Running them from your neck, where you imagined Tommy’s fingers lightly gripping your skin. The warmth of his hand on you. You went down to the hollow between your breasts, brushing them very lightly, before grabbing one of them and twitching the nipple between your fingers until you felt it harden. Your other hand traveled from your navel to your skirt. You brushed against the elastic, then the fabric, until you reached the hem. Pulling your skirt up to your waist, then brushing against your sensitive folds under your panties. For a few minutes, you played with your pleasure. Brushing against your swollen clit with feather light touches. Until impatience gripped you, and you finally slip your hand into your panties. Imagining Tommy’s feverish fingers working their way to reach your soaking pussy. You ran your digits along your soaked folds to wet them, and moved up to your twitching clit, already sensitive. You moaned, softly whispering “Tommy.” Your index finger gently swirled over your little bud of nerves, applying the perfect pressure to make your orgasm build. Your other hand squeezed your breast, and you arched your back as your gasps filled the room. But you needed more. Needed to feel something in your core. Your hand left your breast and slipped into your panties, pushing your middle finger between your folds. Just in time for your pussy to clench on it, a wave hit your trembling body. Imagining Tommy inside you, his face above yours, balls deep in your cunt. His name escaped your lips one last time, with final twitches of your walls against your finger. All you could think about was Tommy, and the sensations he would give you. Sensations you could only imagine, because you were still a virgin.

Your father came back home early in the evening, and you had dinner together, chatted and laughed. You two always had a great relationship. When your parents had divorced, you all had agreed that you would live with your mother, since your father had often been away for work. But you missed him a lot, and summers with him were definitely your favorite time of the year.

Tommy came by your house a few times in the days that followed. But not once did you see his gaze on you like it had happened in his car on the way back from the airport. You were disappointed, but since your father was home every time he visited, you figured that maybe Tommy didn't want to risk something in his presence.

The barbecue day arrived, finally. You had chosen a short summer dress with white and yellow pattern, thin straps, no bra underneath. Black lace panties completed the ensemble.

You were impatiently waiting for Tommy to arrive, and you knew he would be among the first guests. You were busy setting the table when you heard your name. Tommy was approaching you and he wasn't alone. Joel, his brother, was with him. He was slightly older than Tommy, and you hadn't seen him in several years. You didn't remember him being so hot and you lost your breath when you saw him. They hugged you, and If Tommy kept a friendly attitude, Joel looked at you from head to toe and smirked, while your dad was busy with the other guests. Arousal instantly burned you from the inside out.

So you decided to go a little further. You seeped your beer while staring and smiling at Tommy or Joel, played with a lollipop redder than your lips while looking at them, or talking to them. You saw Joel readjust himself twice, and Tommy looked away a few times. But his bulge left no doubt about the effect your little game had on him.

The last guests were leaving, and you wished everyone a good evening. Saving your warmest, playful smile for the Millers. Your father had drunk a little too much, and told you he was going to bed. You walked him to his bedroom, helped him take off his shoes, and covered him with his blanket. Then you went into the garden and sat in one of the deckchairs, a beer in hand. You had drunk more than usual but you felt good, a little dizzy but not too much, and you wanted to end the evening like that, looking at the stars.

“You haven’t gone to bed, darlin’?”, you heard from the aisle. Tommy and Joel were heading back towards you.

“No, not yet, I’m still enjoying the evening,” you added, raising your beer bottle at them. “Did you forget something?”

“Yeah, my phone. There it is,” Tommy added.

“Wanna join me for another beer?”

“Yeah, sure”, said Joel. They took beers from the cooler, then brought two deck chairs closer to yours. Conversation was easy with them. Both were quite talkative.

As for you, you laughed even more than usual, thanks to the beers you had drunk. The effect of the alcohol seemed much less stronger on Tommy and Joel.

“It’s getting late, I'm gonna put away the leftovers”, you said, getting up.

“Let us help you, sweetheart,” offered Joel.

You took the salad bowls and went down to the basement to put them in the fridge. You found yourself really close to Joel as you walked through the door, and he clung to you wholeheartedly.

“So, baby... what was that little game all evening?”

“You liked it?” you asked, shamelessly.

“Oh, sweetheart, are you sure you know what you’re gettin’ into?”

“What are you doin’, Joel?” asked Tommy.

“Just what she wants. Come on, she’s been hitting on us all day.”

“Her father’s here, Joel. He’s… He’s my best friend.”

“Drank way too much. We heard him snoring from the dining room. And she can fuck whoever she wants, it’s not her father’s problem. She’s 21.”

“I… I don’t know man.. I’ve known her since… forever.”

"Jesus. She's an adult. You wanna have fun, baby?”

“Yes! Yes, please. Come on, Tommy, I wanna play with you too”, you added, flirting openly.

Tommy's remorse quickly dissipated, you weren’t sure if you had to thank the beers for that or not. The two brothers' bodies pressed against yours two seconds later. Tommy's lips sought yours, while Joel's covered your neck with kisses. The four hands caressed your waist and breasts, and you felt their hard cocks pushing against you. Virility and masculinity emanated from them. Strength, too. They were men, not boys or young men, and had a totally different energy than the guys you had dated so far. And even though your desire for the two brothers was soaking your panties, you started to fear that maybe you wouldn’t be able to manage what was going to happen next.

“Wait, wait”, you breathed out suddenly, while your hands were lost in Tommy’s wavy hair. They pulled away from you slightly at the same time, respecting your uncertainty.

“What is it, darlin’?” Tommy asked you gently.

“I… uh. Fuck.” You looked at him with a mixture of different emotions in the eyes. Joel stood in front of you, side by side with his brother.

“I…damn. I’m a virgin”, you finally confessed, looking down at the ground.

“What the…” Joel said with raised eyebrows, pulling away from you and taking a few steps into the basement, hands on hips.

“Well… I played with dildos but… not real dicks.”

“Christ, darlin’ we can't… We can’t do that” said Tommy, shaking his head.

“You’re a virgin? How is it even possible? I mean… You’re screaming for our cocks and you never took one?” added Joel.

“I just… I dated guys but they were jerks. I never wanted to fuck one of them. Plus…”

“Plus what?” asked Joel.

Alcohol gave you some courage, or unconsciousness, and you murmured “I couldn’t get Tommy out of my head.”

“No shit”, chuckled Joel, “my little bro is a crush of his best friend's daughter…”

“Shut up, Joel. Darlin’, what are you talking-”

“Oh come on, Tommy. You saw how I looked at you. And I saw how you looked at me. I’m an adult. And… you’re hot. Both of you. We can have fun, right? I guess you don't fuck virgins every day. I just need you to go slow."

“No. No way. We can’t do that. Not here, not now… we can’t do that Joel. It was one thing to fuck her. But having her first time with us here? With her father upstairs? No way.”

“Alright, alright. What if… We’d do other things?”

“What things?”

“Using our hands and mouths. We could play with her mouth too.”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, man. And she drank too much to think clearly”, said Tommy.

“She wasn’t drunk when she was teasing us as soon as we arrived. You want this, baby?” Joel asked, looking at you.

“Yes”, you answered firmly.

“Both of us?”

“Yes.”

Joel moved closer to you, took off your dress, and whistled before looking at his brother.

“We have fun. But we don’t fuck her. Not with our cocks, at least.”

“That’s twisted, Joel”, Tommy murmured, but without being able to take his eyes off your body.

“That’s hot as fuck.”

“Fuck… Ok. Ok...”

A few seconds later, you found yourself on the couch in that basement with Tommy’s shoulders between your thighs.

“Your panties’re soaked, baby, jesus…” he said.

“Told you I wanted it…” you flirted.

“Fuck”, he said, caressing your folds through the fabric, before removing them and spreading your thighs slightly to reveal your pussy. “Damn, look at that, Joel…”

Joel moved closer and Tommy spread you further, so his brother had a perfect view of your bare, dripping pussy.

“What a juicy cunt… Already all swollen up. Can’t wait to taste it. But you go first, man.”

“Yeah”, Tommy breathed out just before he licked a long stripe from your folds to your clit.

You were already moaning at this new sensation. So different from the one you felt when you were making yourself come with your fingers, or even a sex toy. Tommy's tongue ran through your folds, his mustache and beard tickled your fine skin. Then danced at your core, and swirled over your clit, and you didn't know whether to hold on to his hair or his shoulders. Sometimes you would open your eyes and watch Joel, staring where his brother was eating you out, his hand squeezing his crotch to relieve the tension. Tommy pushed one finger in your cunt, and you stared at Joel as you came on Tommy’s finger, his tongue resting on your clit.

“Fuck, that’s hot baby, seeing you all spread like that for my brother…”

Tommy was so pussy drunk from being the first one to lick you that he almost came in his boxers when you clenched on his finger and moaned. He pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and you felt slightly embarrassed seeing how his mustache and beard glistened from your wetness. Then he got up and slowly pulled his cock out of his pants, and you saw the red, dripping tip of his thick length.

“You wanna suck my cock, darlin’?”

You nodded enthusiastically, but Joel firmly told you “words, baby.”

“Yes. Yes, I wanna suck your cock, Tommy.”

“You’ve never sucked a cock before either?” Joel asked as he in turn knelt between your thighs.

“No… uh Joel? Are you gonna…?”

“Eat ya? Yeah. Fuck yeah. Ya want it?”

“Yeah…Yeah, I want it.”

“You got it, then.”

He spat on your cunt and you gasped, then he spread it with his thumb, careful not to overstimulate you.

“How many times did you get off thinking about my brother, baby?” he asked before licking your soaking pussy.

“A… a lot”, you whimpered, your hands tightening his curls, as you spread your legs as wide as possible to give him full access.

“Yeah, you got off, thinking of my brother’s tongue in your cunt? His fingers? His cock?”

“Yeah”, you breathed out.

“Damn, little brother. What a good little toy we got here...”

The way he was talking about you made you moan, and he buried his tongue between your folds.

Thinking that his brother was eating your pussy a few minutes before was turning you on like never before.

Thinking that the first time someone went down on you, he did it in front of his brother, before he took his place. And you were already wondering if you could convince Tommy to make them take your virginity, and if Joel would lie down between your thighs after his brother. Filling you both with their cum. The thought, coupled with Joel's tongue, made you cum a second time so quickly that you didn’t feel it coming.

“She’s so sensitive…I wonder how many times we’re gonna make her cum, Tommy.”

Tommy was lazily jerking off while watching his brother eat you out. When your shaking stopped, his eyes darkened and he said “sit down, sweetheart. Will be easier to blow me.”

You obeyed, blushing slightly under their gaze on your bare body, but eager to taste his thick cock.

You had watched tons of porn and knew how to do it. But you wanted to hear Tommy tell you what to do, to be in charge. You let him grab your chin between his fingers, and lift it towards him. Applying a light pressure to it.

“Open up for me, darlin’.”

You parted your lips, and he bent over, dropping his saliva in your mouth, which you swallowed right away.

“Gonna be sloppy for me?”

You nodded, eyes fixed on him.

“Stick out your tongue and lick my slit, baby. Wanna see your pretty throat swallow what I’m givin’ you.”

You darted your tongue out and twirled it around his tip, then swallowed his precum. Tasting it for the first time. He held his cock tightly in his hand while the other was holding the back of your head as he pushed his tip between your lips.

Joel had just finished another beer and was watching you suck his brother while palming his crotch.

“How is she?”, he asked.

“Good. Fuckin’ good. A little shy and unsure. It's fuckin’ hot.”

“Can you imagine, her first time playing naughty for real, she wants not one, but two cocks? What kinda slut does that?”

If Joel thought he was embarrassing you by talking about you like that, he was wrong. You pulled back and your eyes fixed on his brother, as you asked feigning shy tone “you like being sucked by your best friend’s daughter, Tommy?” Batting your long eyelashes at him, making Joel chuckle “well, damn…”

“Fuck… You’re a naughty thing, darlin’, aren’t ya? Naughty things like you don’t keep their mouths empty. Keep suckin’.”

You smiled and took him back in your mouth, applying yourself, attentive to his moans and sucking him according to his sensitivity.

Joel opened two beers and offered one to his brother who took sips regularly, his other hand resting on the back of your head while fucking your mouth and throat. Joel sat on the couch next to you, and took out his cock, wanking slowly while drinking his beer too.

“I think my brother needs some relief, baby. Be a good girl and lie down.”

Once laid down, Joel spread your thighs indecently, exposing your soaking wet pussy.

“Gonna let me play with that little cunt, sweetheart?”

You nodded, just before Tommy slipped his cock back in your mouth. Drinking his beer at the same time. Being used like this was turning you on more and more. Both of them still had their clothes on, and you found it so hot. Making you feel even more used.

“Imagine how tight she must be. How she’d squeeze our cocks, if we fucked her like she begs to be. One day, don’t freak out little brother.”

“I know, fuck, stop talking about that or I’m gonna nut.”

Joel smirked and spread your glistening folds with his thumbs and you felt your wetness flowing down to your asshole. He spat on your cunt and you moaned.

“She just loves that,” Tommy smirked, thrusting deeper in your throat.

Joel hummed, and brushed his beer bottle between your folds, and you tensed noticeably.

“Come on, Joel, don’t be a jerk.”

Joel chuckled again, and said “you know I won’t do that. I’m not gonna split her open with a bottle. At least not for her first time. Just wanted to spice up my beer.”

He took a sip of his beer, covered with your wetness.

“Way better, now.”

“Fuck”, said Tommy, watching him.

Joel rubbed his shaft along your folds, making you moan, mouth full of Tommy’s cock. Feeling his cock against your pussy was an overwhelming sensation. So different from feeling a cold dildo. Your hips rolled against Joel’s shaft and he growled.

“Don’t fuck her, Joel”, Tommy warned.

“Yeah. I know. Fuck, I know, I know. Her cunt is trying to swallow me, man, you see that?”

“Yeah… Our little whore. When did you become such a cockslut, baby? Your father raised you as a good, proper girl, and look at you playing with our fat cocks…not that I'm complaining, takin’ such good care of us, damn.”

Joel’s precum was mixing with your wetness and he rubbed his tip against your clit.

“ ‘m gonna come soon… gonna shoot my load on that pretty pussy, cover her in white, fuck…”

“Suck my balls, baby… gonna come soon too.”

Tommy grabbed his big balls and let them cover your mouth and chin as he started to jerk off. You licked, sucked his balls eagerly, like you've seen dozens of times in porns.

“Look at that Joel, holy shit. Better than your lollipop, uh darlin’?”

“See brother, who gives a shit she’s your best friend's daughter? We could rail her all summer, ruin her pretty holes every fucking day. Teach her how to be a perfect fuck.”

Their dirty talk, the way they were talking about you as if you weren’t even here, made you melt and despite your sore jaw, you couldn’t stop licking Tommy’s balls, still jerking off.

“Fuck, darlin’, yeah just like that. Keep suckin’ my balls. Oh god. Fuck!”

His cum spurted out, white pearls falling onto your hair and face as his hand held your mouth pressed against his balls.

You heard Joel growl and he grabbed your hand, holding it against his shaft sliding along your folds, until he came too, his cum covering your pussy and fingers. His jerks against your clit made you cum one last time, your pussy desperately empty, and you only wished to squeeze their shafts soon enough.

“Jesus… you dried our balls so good, baby.”

They tucked their cocks into their jeans, looking at you still lying on the couch covered in their cum, breathing heavily. Tommy brought you a towel and they helped you up.

“You liked it baby? You liked being a good slut for us?

“Never felt better, actually”, you smiled.

The next morning when you came down for breakfast, your father had already made you coffee and toasts.

“Did you have a good evening, sweetie? I think I passed out… Did you help me in to my bedroom? I can’t remember a thing, I'm sorry sweetie.”

“I did, don’t worry ‘bout that, dad, it’s totally ok!”

“I wasn't a very good host or proper father last night. Wasn't it too much work to put everything back together?”

“No, don’t worry. Tommy and Joel helped me.”

“Oh great. I’m glad they helped you, can’t say I’m surprised they did. They’re good Texans, with proper manners.”

“They really are”, you smiled warmly.

That evening, you knocked on Tommy's door. Joel's figure appeared behind him when he opened it.

“I want more,” you murmured.

Part 2

***********

Thank you for reading 🙏

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #tlou #tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #joel x reader x tommy #friends of juice collective

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masochisticmumblings · 10 months ago

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This isn’t usually something I do. But tumblr friends, I need some help if possible.

On March 11th my partner ( @theprogressivesadist ) passed away due to a heart attack. It was very sudden and not expected at all. We had lived in New York, but after this all I am needing to fly back home to the PNW to be near my family during this time.

I’ve been trying to find a sublet for my current place, but it’s seeming to be too difficult to find someone for April, but I am having some luck with May. I had just started a new job, but will be taking a month off working and going back to my previous employment in late April or May.

I’ve been able to figure out flights home, but thought I may have better luck at finding a sublet. Any help would be greatly appreciated, but not at all expected.

My rent is 1250.

CA: $nothisissami

PayPal: nothisissami

Thank you in advanced for any help 🖤

update: goal met, thank you so much everyone for the help 🖤

#masochisticmumblings #signal boost

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lunajay33 · 2 months ago

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Innocent🥀

Summary: Reader is part of the inner circle and Rhysands younger sister, you grew up with them and grew to be best friends with Cassian, when you decide one day to ask him about your feelings things change

Pairing: Cassian x f!reader

Warning: Explicit topics, smut

•Masterlist•

Growing up with the three bat boys was never boring to say, they always made every situation a time to remember, I’m only a few years younger that’s Rhys but he always made sure to protect me, away from hurt, from men’s advances, from a lot of things but now I’m grown and I’m starting to question some things

Going out to bars with the group of see the others talking to people, seeing Mor leave with some random person was the first time I questioned things

“Rhys where is she going? Does she know that woman?”

“Don’t worry about it little star she’s fine” I felt a little unsettled feeling there was something more to it but realized I’d never get the answers I needed from my big brother who’s sheltered me so much

As the years grew on I felt lonely like something was missing, it was late at night and I found myself sat out in the living room the fire blazing in front of me, my mind swirling with thoughts

“Hey my angel what’re you doing up so late?” Cass asked as he emerged from his room coming to cuddle up next to me like usual, my head resting on his chest

“I’m just confused, I over heard Feyre and Mor talking the other day and I feel like I’m missing out on something”

“And what did you hear?” He asked running his hand up and down my arm

I sat up turning to look at him

“Well Mor said something like she’s never been eaten out so good she saw stars but what does that mean Cas?” His eyes shot wide he was frozen like a statue

“Cas what’s wrong?” I asked worried placing my hand on his cheek

“You….you don’t know what that means?” He asked bewildered

“No I don’t and then Feyre said riding Rhys was so much fun and I want to have fun can I ride you?” He choked at my statement but I don’t know why

“Angel you don’t know what you’re asking me”

“So please tell me, you’re my best friend I love you, but Rhys as sheltered and protected me so much I’m missing out of something please cas” I pleaded bringing out my puppy eyes

“God you know I can’t resist those eyes *sigh* okay I’ll teach you everything but it’s gonna be a shock, still can’t believe you don’t know any of this, come on your first lesson starts now” he said taking my hand and leading me back to his room

I sat on his bed sitting across from him excited to finally get some answers

“So the best way to do this is probably you ask me questions and I’ll answer them the best I can”

“Okay! So what was Mor saying what is getting eaten out, is it like getting taken out to a restaurant?” His smiled widened I could tell he was trying not to laugh

“No Angel it’s when a sexual partner basically makes out with your lady bits”

“What’s a sexual partner?”

“Oh wow we have a lot to go over”

“But why would someone want another’s mouth on their nether regions?” Everything started to feel a little embarrasing how much I didn’t know

“It makes a woman feel really good”

“Can we try?” And in that moment something in my chest warmed and felt like I was finally connected to something and Cas seemed to look the same way as he rubbed his chest

“After all these centuries this had to be the moment to find out we are mates” he smiled brushing my hair back his thumb running against my lower lip

“My mate, what does that change between us though?”

“It means we’re partners for the rest of our days, I’m yours you have my heart and soul and you’re mine” he seemed the happiest I’ve ever seen

“Does this mean we are sexual partners? Can we try things?” I ask excited

“We can try anything you want but let’s go slow okay?”

“Okay, what can we start with”

“I’ve got a good idea for a little angel like you” he repositioned us so he was sat up against the head board in nothing but his boxers showing off his glorious body, and I’m sat atop him both legs spread on either side of his hips in nothing but my dark red nightie and matching panties

“You ready my love?” He asked gripping my hips and I placed my hands against his chest

“Yes please I’ve been waiting so long to know what this is all about, I’m glad it’s you showing me Cas” his expression softens as he placed a gentle kiss to my lips

“I’ve got ya angel” he guided me down till I was fully sat ontop of him feeling harder than I thought

“What’s so harder?”

“It’s my cock Angel, hard just for you” he started guiding my hips back and forth and it felt different it felt good then a shock of pleasure shot through my pussy making me jump

“Woah, what was that” he laughed loving this experience

“Did it feel good baby?”

“Yeah I want to feel it again, can I keep going?”

“God yes do whatever you want with me” he said sliding his big hands down to my thighs, I started rocking back and forth more by myself bewildered by that feeling I started to buck faster and faster making noises I’ve never made come out of me probably too loud for night time but the pleasure was too good I didn’t care

“Keep going Angel you’re close”

“Cas it feels so good what’s that feeling oh mother above I think I’m gonna…..should I stop?”

“No I’ve got you you’re going to cum my love, fuck you feel so good”

His words were foreign to me but then something snapped in my lower belly and I screamed out and the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through me leaving me and a haze slumping over rest my head on his shoulder

“Woah, I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on that for so long”

“How do you feel?” He asked stroking my back

“Really good, I feel so relaxed, what was that called?”

“You just dry humped it’s just that top of the ice berg angel, if you think that felt good get ready” his words made me excited wanting nothing more than to explore everything with him

“Come on let’s get you cleaned up and to sleep”

The next day I woke up in Cassians bed feel the most best rested I have in a long time, stretching I turned feeling the bed was cold next to me making my heart drop for a moment before I realized Cassian would never just leave for no reason he would never hurt me and I could feel that deep in my chest, I hopped out of bed in a pair of cassians boxers which were big around my hips having to hold them in place and my red silk night bralette, the pleasure of last night still coursing through me and I wanted to try more so I wander through the halls till I heard his voice coming from Mors room

“Cas there you are!” I sigh in relief as I stood in the door way, both turning to me shocked by my appearance, never really showing this much skin out around the house

“Looks like you had a great night” Mor smirked

“I did best sleep ever” I smiled

“Sorry I wasn’t there when you awoke, I just needed to talk to mor, he said stepping closer to place a gentle kiss to the top of my head

“Sorry if I interrupted I can go” I stated realizing I could have interrupted an important conversation

“No Angel we were just finishing anyways”

“Oh perfect can you come eat me out now, is it good mor I heard you talking about it before” I said and they both stood there trying not to explode in laughter

“Oh honey you’re gonna love it now go one you two love birds” she said laughing as she pushed us both out of her room

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked once we were alone in his room again

“No my love it’s just when it comes to sexual topics people usually keep it to their partner or when they talk and need advice from friends, most don’t say stuff like that around others but you didn’t know so no need to feel embarrassed” he said crawling up on the bed hovering over me his voice going deeper

“Okay im still learning, can i pleasure you in any way Cas?” He smirked as he started pulling down the boxers that hung on my hips

“For now pleasuring you pleasures me, hearing you moaning my name drives me made, showing you all this gets me off now how about I show you what’s been plaguing your thoughts”

“Please” I moaned my heart beating fast swelling with more love for him, I always had stronger feelings for him growing up and now I know why

He threw the boxers off the bed as he spread my legs groaning as he stared for a long time at my pussy making me want to cover myself

“Don’t cover yourself mother above look at you and you’re all mine, let me get a taste” he littered kisses and bites down my inner thigh until his mouth hovered just above me his hot breath fanning me making me grind my hips up wanting me

“So impatient”

“Cas please it hurts please help me”

“Fuck I love you” he groaned as his lips finally connected with my hot throbbing core, his tongue dragging and flicking, his lips sucking, my head in a blur even better than dry humping

“Oh Cassian so good I never want you to stop” I screamed gripping his hair as I grind against his mouth feeling that familiar pressure build until my vision turned white and my body went limp, slowly I came back to reality cassians mouth shiny and wet, sitting up I notice the spot under my was soaked

“Oh what’s all this?”

“Came pretty hard Angel soaked me, squirt all over the place and it’s really fucking hot”

“I could have your mouth on my all day long you feel so good, I love you Cassian”

“I love you more Angel”

We both cleaned up getting ready for the day

“Should we tell the others that we’re mates is that appropriate to talk to others about”

“Of course, everyone should be down at the breakfast table anyways let’s go meet them” he said taking my hand as we walked down catching everyone’s attention I was just nervous of Rhys’ reaction then I felt a wave of calm through the tether from Cassian, squeezing his hand

“What is this little star?” Rhys stated standing up

“Cassian he’s my mate” hearing a gasp from Feyre, Azriels eyes widen

“What? And when did you find this out” I looked up at cas not wanting to say what the situation was that led to us realizing we are mates

“She’s my best friend man, we had a late night and it just clicked”

“Was that all the screaming I heard” Rhys groaned in anger

“Rhys stop you’re embarrassing me, did you think you could shelter me from this forever” his expression softened

“I was just trying to protect you”

“I know and I appreciate that you know I do but I’m so behind now I don’t know anything I feel like a bad mate to Cas because I can’t bring things to the relationship like he can”

“Angel you’re so much more than that you’re loving and caring, you’ve had my heart from the day I laid my eyes on you, I told you we’ll take this slow never feel like you’re not enough for me because you’re more than I ever imagined I’d have” he said kissing my hand as his other brushed my cheek

“Ugh I guess I will just live with this, come on love birds let’s have our family breakfast” Rhys said smiling as things went back to normal

I’m going to make this a series if you’re interested in being in the taglist comment!!

#cassian x reader #cassian #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian x fem!reader #cassian fanfic #cassian imagine #Cassian oneshot #rhysand #acotar oneshot #acotar fanfiction #acotar #feyre archeron #morrigan #azriel x you #cassian smut

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laviefantasie · 1 year ago

Text

You’re Losing Me

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Reader

Summary: Is love truly enough? Enough to stick around even when you feel yourself slowly dying from it? Can it truly ever be enough?

| Masterlist |

She couldn’t breathe. She could feel her lungs pushing against her ribcage while looking for the oxygen they begged to inhale. Her heart throbbed against them, looking for any sign —no matter if it was painful— to remind itself that it still lived. That it could still beat.

She didn’t think she could blame her heart for the need to make sure it could still beat, not after the words she had just uttered to the reason it had been beating so harmoniously for so long.

“We’re done”

She didn’t even know she had said it until she saw his eyes widen in disbelief. She didn’t even know she’d ever truly have the courage to say it out loud.

But she had. It was done.

“What—why? Y/N, baby, what’s—I don’t understand”

Hurt. That’s all she could see on those blue-green eyes she had always found comfort in. Those who had always looked at her with so much love it had been unbelievable. Those eyes who lately hadn’t shined in her direction even once.

She could hear her pulse all throughout her body. She could hear it as loudly as if her heart had been pressed against her ears.

Could she truly say it again? Could she be brave—strong enough to utter those painful words one more time? Did she really have to?

“We’re… we’re done, Eren” she weakly whispers.

It pained her, of course. It truly felt as if she was forced to talk after swallowing glass, her throat and mouth filled with blood that stopped her from formulating the words as loud as she should’ve.

Eren shook his head in disbelief. Everything in his body felt numb. It felt as if someone had thrown a cold bucket of water at him and left him outside during winter with not even a jacket to give him a sense of warmth. This couldn’t be happening. He didn’t understand why it was happening.

“I don’t understand” he whispers weakly “I don’t… Y/N, please…”

“The fact th-that you don’t understand” she sobs weakly, the tears she had fought so hard to contain flowing freely down her cheeks, “Is even mor-more reason why we must bre-break up”

“Did I do something?” He asks, tears accumulating in his eyes “What did I do? I ca-will fix it”

She wanted him to stop. She didn’t want to hear him.

All this time she had been wanting him to fix what he had broken. All this time she had been waiting for him to realize that he was hurting her. That loving him was killing her. All this time she wanted him to give her one reason to stay.

And all this time he hadn’t.

“You can’t fix it”

Her voice once soft and weak became hard and pained. All the hurt she had to endure this last year coming back full force, giving her the strength she needed to save herself from self destructing. The strength she needed to not give in.

“It’s too late to fix it” she finalizes “I’ve been waiting all this year for you to fix it. I’m done waiting”

“Y/N—”

“Do you know how hard it was to watch you push everyone, including me, away?” She sobs “How hard it was to watch you shamelessly flirt with every girl that looked your way while I was right there at your side waiting for you to notice me? How hard it was to see you shrug off our relationship, our friendship, as if it was nothing?”

Eren’s eyes widen even more, if possible. Had he truly been doing that? He knew he had change, he knew he had closed off on his friends after his parents passing, but they had never once left his side. She had never left his side. No matter how hard he pushed. Or how cruel he was.

And then last year he had gotten his shit together. She had helped him with that. He had pushed all his pain onto something productive and had become the university’s star quarterback.

Is that when it all started? When his dull grief-striking eyes and neutral face had become the bad boy mysterious persona every girl wanted to date and every boy wanted to be. Was it then when he decided to play along to all of it just to not feel alone, to feel worthy, forgetting what he truly had always had by his side?

Had it really come to this? Had he really taken for granted what he had by believing he always would have it?

“We—I would’ve stayed with you through anything” she continues “I stayed through everything. No matter how bad it was. But… I’m out of reasons to stay”

“I love you”

Three words. Three words he had never once uttered in that year. Three words she had remembered herself those 365 days to keep fighting.

Those three words had already lost its meaning.

“Loving isn’t enough anymore”

And she turned around going for the door. He scrambled out of the bed he had been sitting while looking up at her as fast as he could.

She couldn’t leave. If she left it became real. If she left he wouldn’t be able to fix what he had broken.

Had he really broken the best thing that had happened to him? The one thing in his life that still gave him hope?

He tried to grasp her hand, to stop her from leaving, but she had already opened the door and crossed it. His hand met the wooden frame as her body started making her way through the hallway, away from his dorm.

How had it come to this?

It had been a year after Eren’s parents death through a tragic car accident. A year since Zeke, Eren’s older half-brother, had taken his custody. It had been a hard year. Eren’s eyes had lost its incomparable spark and his smile had ceased to exist.

Mikasa, Armin and Y/N, his closets friends since childhood, along with the rest of their gang had done everything they could to help him. Even when he snapped at them, spitting cruel words that fed into their insecurities, they never left his side. He pushed and pushed with all his might, anything to keep them away in fear of ever feeling the tightness in his chest of losing someone he loved again. But they pushed back. All of them. Never once giving in.

They knew he was hurting. They knew it. And they would never leave his side while he did so.

So they stuck around no matter how hurt they got along the way. Because it was Eren, and Eren deserved to have people fight for him as hard as he used to fight for them.

Y/N became the best fighter among them.

She would take his cruel malicious words with grace before embracing him against her warmth, letting him let out all his anger and sadness on her. Promising to carry it on her shoulders in hopes of lifting some from his, as small as the portion was.

And day by day, night by night, she stood tall by his side. Never once letting him fall.

He was thankful, even when he didn’t voice it. She had giving him something constant, something he could hold onto when the waves that came crashing towards him in hopes of drowning him got to him. She kept her hold steady and unfaltering, keeping him afloat.

So, when had he started taking it for granted?

“Eren Jaeger, isn’t it?”

He had been waiting outside the Economics classroom for Y/N’s class to finish so they could go have lunch when the captain of the cheerleading squad Historia was a part of first spoke to him.

It wasn’t that people didn’t know him around university, they did with him being the quarterback, he just wasn’t someone that you would think was easy to approach. So people normally didn’t. Not that he minded, he had all he needed with his friends and you by his side.

He nods, coldly.

But she smiled. As brightly as possible, her hazel eyes shining under the hallway’s lights.

“Last week’s game was amazing! You were so fast, it seemed nobody could ever come close to catching you” she giggled.

His cold demeanor melted slightly, not used to compliments from other than his coach and friends. Most people just clapped him on the back as a way to congratulate him, too afraid to say something to him.

He nods again in thanks.

“We, the cheer girls and the team’s boys, were thinking of holding a small get-together to celebrate the win” she continues “We’d like you to come. We know you don’t like those sceneries, as you’ve made clear before, but Connie and Jean are going. Reiner and Bertolt too”

He stays quiet.

“Just wanted to formally invite you. Hopefully the rest of your teammates going, the ones you’re actually close with, persuades you”

Before Eren can refuse, the bell rings and the door he was standing beside bursts open. Students cross it without even batting an eye.

Eren’s eyes soften once he catches a glance of you and the bright sincere smile you send his way when you see him. All under the cheerleading’s watchful curious gaze.

“Ren” you kissed his cheek before looking at the girl he was talking to, “Chloe! Hi! I haven’t seen you in a while, still battling with Calculus?”

The blonde girl, Chloe, groans, “Ugh, Mr. Ackerman is still the worst”

Both girls share a laugh under Eren’s curious gaze. Did they known each other? For the laugh you just shared and the familiarity in which you talked with one another he guessed you did. How? He guessed that through a class since he hadn’t ever seen you hang out with other girls that weren’t Mikasa, Sasha, Historia or Ymir.

“You know each other?”

His voice is cold and dull, but his gaze on you is soft. So soft that Chloe isn’t sure she imagined it. She didn’t know he could have a gaze as soft as that with the cold lifeless way he glared at everything around him.

And yet, Y/N smiled as if he had just told her she was the most beautiful girl to ever exist.

“We do! We met during Ackerman’s Calculus class last semester”

“This little genius became our teacher’s favorite while I am stuck with him once more” the blonde beauty groaned.

“You’ll get it this time. I can help you”

That’s something he had always loved about you. The selfless way you tried to help everyone in every little way you could.

“You’re an angel, Y/N” she smiles “How do you two know each other?”

Y/N’s smile brightened if possible, “This is my adorable boyfriend that I’ve told you about”

Chloe’s eyes widen in disbelief, “Eren Jaeger is the all-loving charismatic too-good-to-be-true childhood best friend told lover you’ve told me about?”

You laughed before nodding making Chloe’s eyes widen even more.

For Y/N, Chloe’s face was funny and innocent. Eren, on the other hand, understood the gleam of uncertainty in the blonde’s eyes. It was obvious she was trying to comprehend how the perfect boyfriend you had describe was the university’s feared lifeless bad boy.

It made him angry to feel as if he wasn’t worthy of you, he already thought so himself so seeing someone else think that made his blood boil.

He wanted to prove to everyone and to himself that he was worth it, that he could be worthy of you. So he did the one thing that condemned you both without even knowing it.

“When’s the party?”

The party had been eventful and unexpected. None of their friends had expected Eren and neither had they expected the way he had behaved that night. He had drank and talked, and even though he hadn’t laughed or smiled he had become this unapproachable guy that now everyone wanted to approach.

His aura was intoxicating. And like a moth to the flame, everyone would fly towards him as if he was holding the matches.

Mikasa, Armin and Y/N had watch with uncertainty the amount of attention Eren was receiving. But moreover, the way he seemed to be bathing in it. It was a weird sight. Eren had never been one to want attention, he always got it without looking for it though. But he had never seek it.

So why was he seeking and bathing in it now?

“Well…” started Armin “At least he seems okay”

Y/N nodded a little uncertain, but Mikasa frowned.

“I don’t like this” she muttered “Feels like the start of a disaster”

“Don’t frown, Mika” Y/N said lovingly, “Maybe this is what he needs to open up more. He’s been getting better, so maybe… maybe this is his way of trying to go back to who he is”

“I don’t know”

“We have to trust him” Armin added, “It’s not like he’s doing anything bad anyway, he’s just making friends”

Mikasa’s frown deepened but she let herself be guided out of the living room towards the kitchen by her two closest friends. She had a bad feeling about all of this, she just hoped she was wrong.

But they had all come to know a long time ago that Mikasa’s instincts were never wrong. Especially concerning Eren.

The first time they realize that something was wrong was during their monthly movie night between the Scouts, as they like to call themselves since their camp days where all they met and became friends. It was that night that Eren first truly disappointed them.

[ Can’t make it. Party at Floch’s. Srry ]

That’s all his text to the group chat had said. Not only had he totally blown them off on their tradition, but he hadn’t even bother to invite them. It was maddening. Especially since Connie and Jean were also invited to said party and refused to go because of their plans.

It weirded them all out. If they had invited Reiner and Bertolt and they cancelled they could’ve understood, they were close but not that close.

It had always been Armin, Mikasa, Eren and Y/N until camp. And then it had become Armin, Mikasa, Eren, Y/N, Jean, Connie, and Sasha. More had been added along the way, but the seven of them were as tight as possible. Nothing could ever come in their way, so why did it suddenly feel like something could?

They spent their movie night in an uncomfortable silence. Not even Jean, who always took every opportunity he could to insult Eren, said something.

And then one movie night missed became two and three until they just stopped expecting him to come.

At university, Eren barely found them to spend time with them during his breaks or lunch as they were used to. Instead they were forced to look for him all throughout the campus, always finding him surrounded by other team members or cheerleaders.

And even then, Armin and Y/N tried to convince themselves this was just him trying to become socially available once again. No matter how many times Mikasa told them she didn’t believe that was the case.

Their disappointment reach its breaking point when Armin received an ‘SOS’ text from Mikasa asking him to go to their dorm, only to find a dolled up sobbing Y/N on the dark-haired beauty’s embrace. Eren had missed their anniversary date to hang out with Floch. Y/N could’ve probably let it slide if it hadn’t been for the any times he had already cancelled —and stood her up— before.

That was the last straw for Armin.

He had seen you, Y/N, his childhood best friend give your all to the blue-green-eyed boy. Since the moment you both had met Eren and Mikasa, you had always given all you could give to Eren. Especially the last couple of years when he had started to become unstable. You had never given in. Never had you left him alone, no matter how many reason you’d had.

So what gave him the right to make you cry?

Armin never again excused his behavior after that night. Him and Mikasa always standing beside you as you had to endure the attention from girls Eren was receiving, especially when he seemed to enjoy it so much. More than once had they offered to give him a peace of their minds, begged you really, but you had refused. You didn’t know what was going on through his head but you had faith in him. Faith that he would figure it out and fix it, as he had always done before.

You had waited for the whole year.

Your last straw came on your birthday. Just a month after Christmas, which Eren failed to celebrate with the Scouts again in their traditional small gathering on the 25th.

Your friends had all prepared you a surprise party, which they had planned through a secret group chat in which Eren had failed to text back every time. The party was set to start at 10 o’clock at night at Armin’s house, giving you enough time to spend the morning as you always did with your family and the rest of the day with Eren, as they all had been used to since you two started dating exactly five years ago when both of you were fifteen. It was perfect, honestly, you’d be too distracted with the brunette boy to find suspicious why they all had been MIA.

Except Eren didn’t show up at your doorstep. He hadn’t even called or texted.

Which meant you spent the rest of the day before the party locked in your room crying silently while you wondered why.

Only to find out through Floch’s instagram story he was at his house, with an unknown girl under his arm.

By the time Mikasa had gone to pick you up at your childhood home, you were asleep on your bed with swollen eyes and dry tear and mascara stains on your cheeks. She had gasped at the sight, not understanding what had happened. At least until she saw what was on the phone —which was still unblocked— you held softly in your grasp.

And the dark-haired beauty saw red.

She had texted Armin and soon the party had moved to your living room, and instead of a party they turned it into a movie night. They decorated the place and made a blanket fort, Annie even going as far as going to buy some fairy lights to put all over the place.

By the time Sasha went to wake you up and helped you get ready, all of them hid awaiting your arrival.

It had helped heal your broken heart a little.

Still you couldn’t ignore what had been going on for long enough anymore. You had finally ran out of excuses.

So the next week when Armin went to the dorm you and Mikasa shared, you knew. And they knew you knew. So they held you, all day and night, trying to give you the strength you’d need to do what was right for you.

And you did.

And that’s how you’d both gotten to this stage of your story. As painful as getting there had been.

Eren fell to the floor. His knees had given out. He had been frozen on his spot, watching the door intently as if that would somehow make you come back. He thought he had been doing the right thing, he thought he had finally start becoming someone worthy of you. Someone that deserved to be loved by someone as good as you.

He was sobbing. He didn’t even know when he had started, but his body shook with the force of each sob.

He didn’t know what to do. How could he keep going without your unwavering presence beside him giving him the strength he needed to fight back against the cruel world they lived in?

That’s how Armin found him when he came back from his classes. Hugging his knees to his chest on the floor as he sobbed his heart out.

“So she actually did it, huh?”

His teary gaze found his best friend’s stone cold one.

“I d-don’t… Ar-Armin, I don-don’t unders-understand”

“You don’t understand?” He scoffed, “You missed every single movie night we’ve had for a year. You’ve missed every date you guys planned. You missed your anniversary, Christmas, the New Year. And you don’t understand?”

Eren stares, dumbfounded. Had he truly missed all that? He couldn’t even remember properly at this moment.

“You even missed her birthday” Armin continued, “It was last Friday, FYI”

Another sob wrecks through his body. Your birthday, he had missed your birthday. He didn’t even remember the last time he had ever missed one and now he had completely forgotten about it.

What was wrong with him?

“I truly don’t know what was going through your head all this year. Nor why you did every single thing you did” Armin sighed “I’m just glad she finally had the courage to walk away. You were killing her. Everytime you flirted with another girl, every time you blew her off, you were killing her. I’m glad she finally walked away”

Eren had no idea something could hurt this much after his parents’ passing. But it truly hurt more to know he had lost the person he loved the most when she still was at arm’s length.

Especially when this time there was nothing nor no one else to blame but himself. He had pushed you too far this time and you weren’t coming back.

He had lost you.

#eren yaeger aot #eren yeager x oc #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger x oc #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren aot #eren x reader #erenjaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger x femreader #attackontitan #attack on titan #mikasa aot #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #Spotify

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zzoomacroom · 7 months ago

Text

Live a Little

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Dreamling, One Shot, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Friends to Lovers, 6500 words

Late entry for @mr-sadman's Dreamling Week 2024 (Day 1: Indulgence, First Time). Also for @dreamlingbingo (Square A3: Friends to Lovers)

✨✨✨

Summary: Dream needs to be convinced that he’s allowed to indulge, to want, to live. Hob shows him some of the little things that make life worthwhile: good friends, good wine, fancy chocolate, and amazing sex.

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Fluff, Smut, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Tension, Getting Together, First Time, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Oral Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Under-negotiated Kink, Dream has bad blowjob etiquette but Hob is into it, not beta read

✨✨✨

“Make yourself at home, my friend,” Hob says, ushering his oldest and dearest friend into the sitting room. Dream nods soberly and heads for the sofa, while Hob turns back towards the hall. “Back in a tick. I’ve got a nice Pinot noir I’ve been saving that I think you’ll like.”

Before his friend can launch into his whole “You need not trouble yourself, I have no need for sustenance, blah blah blah” spiel, Hob darts through the hall and into the bright, cluttered kitchen at the back of the flat. He uncorks the wine and crouches down to rummage through the cabinets, hauling aside dishes and cast iron pans that would almost certainly be considered antiques by now. He knows they’re around here somewhere…

“Ha!” Hob makes a little noise of triumph as he retrieves the pair of dusty earthenware cups that he’d bought at an art fair a couple decades back. They’re handmade and painted in brilliant blues and greens, and the small bumps and imperfections on them remind him of the Border ware dishes he had owned back in the mid-16th century (minus the lead glaze, presumably).

Hob gives the cups a quick wash and dries them off before pouring the wine. He’s learned the hard way that Dream is not a fan of glass drinkware these days. When his friend explained the reason for this sudden aversion, Hob’s heart had shattered like the brandy snifter that Dream had dropped minutes before. Afterwards, he had gone through and purged his flat of wine glasses, glass bowls, and anything else that even vaguely resembled the prison Dream had described. Not just for his friend’s sake, but for himself; he doesn’t want that reminder either—the thought of his dear stranger, trapped, alone… If Hob had known…

God, if only he’d known…

Anyway. The point is, he’s been sticking with coffee mugs since then. But he can’t serve fine wine to the King of Dreams and Nightmares in a “Shag of the Century” mug, even if it does feel hilariously apropos, so it’s lucky he remembered these. The flat’s a bit of a mess as it is and he doesn’t want to come across as too much of a slob.

Hob hadn’t expected his old friend to drop by today. Well, to be honest, he never expects it, but he’s always thrilled to see him. Ever since they broke their centennial tradition with that first meeting at the New Inn, Dream has started visiting more frequently. At first it was brief, sporadic meetings at the pub, but he gradually started to come around more often, much to Hob’s delight. He’s shown up a few times when Hob was leaving work, instigating a riot of gossip among Hob’s coworkers and sixth-formers alike. Sometimes he visits Hob while he dreams, which had destroyed Hob’s entire perception of reality the first time it happened and still never ceases to blow his mind.

Usually the two of them come up to Hob’s flat, ostensibly to watch a movie or so that Hob can show off whatever new gadget he’s acquired, but the truth is that he wants Dream’s attention all to himself. Hob has always been a selfish, greedy man, and he can’t help but covet this precious time spent together. One never knows if the next Will Shakespeare is lurking in the pub.

He can never predict exactly when his friend will show up, but these days it seems like hardly a week passes without seeing him. So it’s odd that this is the first time he’s been by in over a month. Hob had noticed right away that something was troubling him; Dream seems even more distant and shuttered than usual today, and so Hob had herded him upstairs the moment he walked through the door.

He’s trying very hard not to be a mother hen, but in fairness the pub was starting to get crowded, and Hob knows that his friend is not fond of the noise. He’s just being considerate, he tells himself. Yes, he’s missed him desperately these past few weeks, and yes, the worry that he’d been captured again has consistently been in the back of Hob’s mind. But he has to rein it in and play it cool, lest he trigger another incident like 1889. He knows how lucky he is, how spoiled he’s become, getting to see Dream so often after having gone a century (or more) between meetings. So he knows he’s being a bit silly, getting so antsy after only a month apart.

Still. He worries.

(Continue reading below or on ao3):

Hob returns to the sitting room, wine bottle in one hand and the two cups balanced precariously in the other. He stifles a gasp and nearly drops them when he sees his friend perched on the sofa, having evidently vanished his coat and shoes back to the Dreaming, leaving his feet and arms bare. Hob simultaneously feels like a prude and a pervert as he drinks in the rare sight of that flawless ivory skin.

Then his heart swells with fondness—Dream has actually attempted to make himself at home, like Hob offered. “Attempted” being the key word; he does rather look like he’s sitting in a waiting room instead of on his friend’s sofa. Like he’s not sure how comfortable he’s allowed to get. Hob wants to make him comfortable, wants to wrap him in soft blankets and feed him soup and make him understand how fiercely loved he is.

Steady on, Hobsie. Get a hold of yourself.

Dream looks up from the worn copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy he’s been thumbing through, and if Hob didn’t know any better he’d say there was a faint blush blooming on his perfect cheekbones.

See, that’s the elephant in the room: the ever-present sexual tension between them has been at an all-time high lately. Obviously, Hob fell in love with Dream the second he laid eyes on him—how could he not?—and occasionally, over the centuries, he’s felt a spark of… something, from his stranger (that look he’d given him in 1789 being the most flagrant example). And he’s been feeling that something more and more often these days.

Maybe he’s just a lovesick, hope-stricken old fool, but Hob has a sneaking suspicion that his feelings for his friend are, at least to some small degree, reciprocated. Hob is sure as hell not going to make the first move; he cringes as he remembers how that had gone the last time he tried it. But it’s alright. He can be patient. He has been patient. And if nothing ever happens between them, well, that’s alright too. This easy companionship that they’ve developed is more than Hob could have ever hoped for, and he considers himself a lucky man indeed.

At least that’s what he tells himself.

“Here we are, my friend.” Hob hands one of the cups to Dream—the blue one that matches his eyes—and settles beside him on the sofa, stretching and making a point of putting his feet up on the coffee table to signal to his friend that he’s allowed to relax. And he does seem to get the hint, his shoulders easing down a fraction as he leans back into the cushions. “To life,” Hob says, tilting his cup Dream’s direction. Dream responds with a small, slightly pained smile and gently clinks his cup against Hob’s before taking a sip, humming appreciatively as he drinks.

“Good, eh?” Hob grins, thrilled that his friend is enjoying it.

“Indeed. This is a fine vintage. I thank you for sharing it with me,” Dream replies solemnly.

“I can’t think of anyone better to share it with,” Hob says, perhaps a bit too earnestly, and Dream’s blush deepens ever so slightly. “So,” Hob clears his throat, “what have you been up to, my friend? It’s been a while since I saw you last.” Dream stiffens at that, and Hob hastily adds, “If you want to talk about it, that is. You don’t have to.”

Dream takes another long sip of wine and shakes his head before speaking. “I was with family. I spent some time with my youngest sister, as well as some other relations. One whom I had not seen in centuries, and. Another. With whom I had not spoken in millennia.”

To Hob’s credit, his mind boggles only a little at that. “Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? Family reunion and all?”

Dream makes a small noise—of agreement or skepticism, Hob couldn’t say—and looks away as he continues to drink his wine. It’s obvious that something has happened; Dream seems… hopeless. Resigned. To what, Hob doesn’t dare guess. Dream doesn’t seem inclined to share more at the moment, and there’s a beat of awkward silence as Hob fumbles through his mind for a new topic of conversation. He’s mentally reviewing his day for any interesting stories to tell when he notices his friend staring at the small box wrapped in gold paper on the coffee table, seemingly lost in thought.

Hob springs forward and opens the box, nudging the chocolates in Dream’s direction. “Oh! Where are my manners? Help yourself to those. Some of my coworkers got them for my birthday—well, what they think is my birthday.”

Dream blinks at him. “I do not need to eat.”

Hob chuckles. “Nobody needs to eat chocolate. It’s purely for pleasure. You don’t need to drink this very good wine either, but you’re enjoying it,” he points out, topping off both of their cups to underscore his argument. “And I bet these would go great with the Pinot.” He takes a vanilla cream-filled one for himself before pushing the box closer to Dream. “Go on, they’re quite nice. It’s the expensive stuff. I think that one’s caramel, and that’s a raspberry cream…”

A tiny smile creeps over his friend’s face as he speaks. “My sister is fond of those. Or. Something like them.”

Hob is immensely curious about these family members Dream keeps mentioning, but he doesn’t want to pry; he knows by now that if Dream wants to share something with him, he’ll do so in his own time. “Well, please, have as many as you’d like. I’ll never finish them all before they go stale, so you’d be doing me a favor.”

“I do not usually. Indulge,” Dream says, though he is still staring (longingly, one might almost say) at the cocoa-dusted confections.

“You mean to tell me you’ve got the entire Dreaming at your fingertips, and you don’t indulge in all the lovely things you’ve made? That, my friend, is a tragedy.” Hob smiles and shrugs. “Well, if you won’t indulge yourself, then why not indulge me? I won’t make you eat them, of course, but…” he takes a bite of the bonbon (it really is good, even if it’s a bit too sweet for his taste), “you’d be missing out.”

The gloom that had earlier enshrouded Dream seems all but dissipated, and Hob can’t help but notice the way his friend’s eyes flick to his mouth, the starry voids of his pupils blown wide. Hob is considerably flustered himself right now, but he manages to give his friend what he hopes is a roguishly charming wink.

Dream glances down, his cheeks reddening further. “Very well. If you insist,” he says primly, like he’s doing Hob a favor as he delicately plucks a milk chocolate truffle from the box. And he is doing him a favor; Hob already counted it as a win that he was enjoying the wine, and this is just… well, the icing on the cake. Hmm, maybe he can get him to try cake next time…

Hob loses his train of thought as he watches his friend bite into the chocolate. Dream’s eyes widen before fluttering shut, and the moan he lets out is downright sinful. It’s enthralling. Hob is in trouble.

Dream keeps his eyes closed while he savors the confection, his tongue darting out to lick the powdered cacao from his petal-pink lips. He swallows audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and Hob shivers as he envisions…

No. Now is not the time. Keep it together, old man. Hob shifts and crosses his legs, vainly attempting to ignore the heat pooling low in his belly and the subtle tightening of his trousers.

“Thank you, my friend,” Dream murmurs, glancing demurely at Hob. “They are. Nice. As you said.”

“Of course. I’m glad you like them,” Hob beams. “Help yourself to more. Anything I have, you’re welcome to,” he adds, gesturing vaguely around the flat.

Dream stares at him for a long moment, with a hunger in his eyes that brings to mind that look, the one he’d given him in 1789. There’s something else in his expression, though. Something sad. But before Hob can attempt to decipher it, Dream schools his features, once more a mask of emotionless detachment (except for the telltale flush that has now spread from his cheeks to his ears and neck).

They’re sitting quite close together on the sofa, Hob notices. Had he scooted over without realizing, or was that Dream? There’s no body heat, no familiar human scent coming from his friend, but Hob can feel a strange sort of energy emanating from him—something like static electricity. Like the heavy, expectant stillness that comes before a storm.

Dream slowly, hesitantly reaches for another piece, and as he leans forward their thighs brush together ever so faintly.

Hob’s breath hitches.

Although they’ve been meeting regularly for a couple years now, they have never so much as shaken hands. This is unprecedented.

Hob exhales shakily, and he can’t hold back the embarrassing little noise that escapes him. He tries to disguise it as a cough, but Dream freezes and draws back suddenly as if he’s been bitten.

“It’s alright,” Hob says softly, almost a whisper, like his friend is some skittish wild beast who might flee at any second (actually, that’s about the size of it). “Have another one.”

Dream shrinks back into the sofa, looking suddenly rueful. “I should not.”

Hob laughs nervously. “Now don’t tell me you’re trying to watch your figure, because you’re already…” he splutters and trails off, tugging on his earlobe as a prickling heat creeps up the back of his neck.

Too much. Stupid. So bloody stupid, just shut up.

He hasn’t had nearly enough wine for his mind to be so fuzzy and his mouth so loose. So why can’t he get a grip?

"It’s just—I mean,” he goes on, his treacherous mouth continuing to prattle on despite his brain’s feeble protests, “my point is, it’s alright to indulge. You of all people deserve to indulge. And I offered, so… please. Take what you want. You’re allowed to want things, Dream. And you deserve to have what you want. And—and I know, you can conjure anything up out of dreams and stardust. But even so. I just… I want you to know that anything I have, anything I can offer, however trivial, it’s yours if you want it. And it’s just chocolate and wine, eh? So… why not live a little?”

Hob looks up, apparently done with his ramble, to find Dream staring at him, his head cocked in that adorable way of his. His lips are parted slightly and his eyes shine with unshed tears.

Oh, brilliant. Great fucking job, Hobsie. Just don’t know when to quit, do you?

“Hob,” his friend begins, his voice a deep rumble of distant thunder, more of a feeling than a sound. “You are very generous. More so than is wise, and far more than I deserve. But I am afraid that your generosity may be. Misplaced. You say that I should ‘live a little,’ but. I am not… alive, in the way that you are. I do not live. I simply… am.”

Hob stares at him, dumbfounded, while his heart breaks into a thousand pieces. That… is the saddest fucking thing Hob has ever heard in the two-thirds of a millennium that he’s been alive. It all makes sense now. That’s why Dream has always been so interested in the mundane minutiae of his life. He’s been living vicariously through Hob, and all the while he’s got no life of his own. Just… existing, not living, for billions of years, and on and on until the end of time.

But that’s not true, is it? No. Hob rejects the entire premise. Dream may not be a living, breathing human, but he’s a person. And he does so have a life; he’s got a family. He’s got friends. If nothing else, he’s got Hob. He’s more than just his bloody function that he’s always going on about. Hob wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Tell him that he can live, he must.

Hob’s mind is already racing with ideas—he’s going to have to up his game; they can’t keep meeting at the pub or in Hob’s flat. There’s so much more out there to do and see. Maybe, instead of living vicariously through him, Hob can convince Dream to do some living with him. Not like that… Just. Bucket list-type stuff, even though neither of them can die. Although he doubts Dream would go for it; the mental image of his dear friend skydiving is as far-fetched as it is hilarious.

Of course, he doesn’t dare say any of that. He’s sure he’s already overstepped with that unhinged rant he just went on. He ought to quit while he’s ahead and drop the subject before he offends Dream. Still, it’s impossible not to notice the way Dream has been swaying closer to him over the course of this conversation. The way the air between them seems to crackle with electricity.

“Nevertheless,” Dream continues, “I am grateful for your kindness. Thank you, my friend.”

"'Course,” Hob murmurs. “Like I said. Anything I can offer, it’s yours. So… what do you want?”

Dream falters for a moment and seems to be intensely focused on picking at a nonexistent loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt. “I… I must confess that I do not know what to say. When you ask me this. It is not in my nature to want; desire is the domain of my sibling. It is not within the purview of dreams. I do not live, nor do I want.”

“Bullshit.” The word spills from Hob’s mouth before the thought even crystallizes in his mind. Dream looks stunned and a bit offended, though more confused than anything else. He’s not getting up and storming out, though, so that’s a good sign. He’s frowning, but still watching Hob intently, like he’s curious as to how Hob will follow up that little outburst. Hob is curious where he’s going with this, too; apparently, sitting this close to Dream has caused his brain to short circuit, and now his mouth is running on autopilot.

Ah. Right. Better keep talking, then.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have said that. But… I mean, obviously you wanted that chocolate. And you want to be here, or you’d have left already.” The furrow between Dream’s brows deepens as Hob speaks, and he clenches his jaw tightly. Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t give him ideas. Dial it back, old man. “But that’s alright! Really, it’s fine! More than fine! I—I don’t know about this sibling of yours, but… it just seems to me like you do want something, my friend. And whatever it is, if it’s in my power to give it to you, that’s what I want. So… what do you want?” he asks again.

Dream hesitates, gazing at Hob with those fathomless blue eyes as he appears to genuinely consider the question. He’s sitting so close that Hob can see his own reflection, blurry and distorted, mirrored in the glossy sheen of tears that rests on his friend’s dark lashes.

Finally, he seems to make up his mind. He swallows and leans closer still, his face mere inches away from Hob’s. Hob ceases breathing as a perfect, pale hand snakes upward at a glacial pace, coming to rest on his stubbled cheek. It’s smooth and cool, and Hob’s eyes drift shut as he leans into the touch. Then, impossibly soft lips are brushing against his own, and Hob lets out a muffled sob as one hand flies to Dream’s waist, the other gripping the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

Dream’s tongue probes gingerly into Hob’s open mouth, and lightning sparkles behind his eyelids. His heartbeat is a rolling crash of thunder as the clouds finally break—kissing Dream is like the first rain after centuries of drought; cool and sweet and refreshing and vital. Hob didn’t realize how parched he had been for so long, how desolate the desert of his soul, until this. This perfect kiss. It’s soft and slow and tastes like chocolate and red wine, and this—this may be what finally does Hob in after all these years.

Or it could just be that he hasn’t taken a breath in almost a full minute.

He pulls back, gasping and panting as he rests his forehead against Dream’s. Words fail him—a rare occurrence for Hob—and all he can do is grin stupidly at his friend.

“You,” Dream answers finally. “I want you, Hob.”

Hob lets out a wet, trembling laugh. “You’ve got me, Dream,” Hob whispers. “You’ve always had me.”

Dream surges forward to kiss him again, bolder and more eager this time, and Hob allows himself get swept away in the deluge. He could stay like this for hours—forever, even—and a needy whine escapes him when Dream pulls away again and surveys him with a smoldering gaze.

“Take me to bed, Hob,” he purrs.

“Oh, darling, absolutely,” Hob replies, scrambling up from the sofa and taking Dream’s hand to lead him to the bedroom. Then he freezes, struck by a sudden thought. “Er, quick question first. Is this really—I mean, am I awake right now, or…?”

Dream’s red, kiss-swollen lips twist into a fond smirk. “You are awake, Hob. But would it make any difference if you were not?”

“No,” Hob chuckles. “No, I s’pose it wouldn’t.”

Minutes later, they are entangled on Hob’s unmade bed, exploring each other hungrily with hands and lips and tongues and teeth. Hob is naked from the waist up, Dream having torn his shirt from his body with a fierce, otherworldly strength that was so startlingly arousing that Hob can’t even complain about the loss of his favorite button-down.

Dream sinks his delicate fingers into the thick pelt on Hob’s chest, humming approvingly into his mouth as he grinds against Hob’s thigh. Hob can feel his arousal through the soft fabric of his trousers, and he dips his hand beneath the waistband to squeeze the meager flesh of Dream’s arse. Dream goes still and inhales a sharp breath that Hob knows he doesn’t actually need.

“Hey. You alright?” Hob asks, withdrawing his hand and soothing it over Dream’s shoulder. “Sorry. I should have asked first. I know—after what you went through… I get it. We don’t have to keep going, love. Or we can, and you can keep—”

Dream cuts off his nervous babbling with a kiss. “I wish to continue. I trust you, Hob.”

Hob thinks he might explode from the affection that swells in him at those words. He beams at Dream and steals another quick, fervent kiss before peeling off his shirt.

“Look at you,” he breathes, drinking in the vision before him—Dream is utterly flawless. A marble statue come to life with creamy-white skin and elegant collarbones that flow into lithe, graceful shoulders and lean, well-muscled arms. “You’re so fucking beautiful I could cry, Dream,” Hob says raggedly as he runs his hands over smooth plane of Dream’s chest, circling his thumbs reverently around the firm, pink buds of his nipples.

Dream sighs and closes his eyes as he arches into Hob’s caress, dragging his fingers through the wealth of hair on Hob’s chest and continuing downwards, tracing the narrow trail down to the waistband of his trousers and unbuttoning them with nimble fingers.

Hob quickly shuffles out of his trousers and pants, groaning as his erect cock springs free. Dream’s eyes darken, the sky-blue of his irises nearly eclipsed by starry black as he (sweet Christ in heaven) licks his lips. “Hob,” he rumbles, his voice even deeper and silkier than usual. “You are. Exquisite.”

A laugh bubbles up from Hob’s throat unbidden. “Sorry. Sorry, it’s just—hearing that from you is… I mean, I can’t believe this is really happening, it’s like—”

“Hob,” Dream interrupts, raising his eyebrows and lifting his hips emphatically.

“Right. Sorry,” Hob says, bending down to unbutton Dream’s jeans. But just as his hand brushes over the zipper, the trousers vanish, leaving Dream totally nude with Hob’s hand just millimeters away from his flushed, heavy prick. “Someone’s eager,” he smiles, taking him in hand and gently stroking the delicate, velvety flesh. “Gods above, Dream, you have the most gorgeous cock I’ve ever seen.”

It really is lovely—long and slim and rosy, all wreathed in soft black curls. Even his balls are pretty; plump and pert and perfectly round. Hob wriggles down the bed and nuzzles into the hot, solid length, relishing the weight of it on his face. He licks from the base to the tip, laving his tongue over the leaking slit before mouthing his way back down to his balls, sucking on each of them in turn. Above him, Dream breathes heavily and lets out quiet little whimpers. Hob strokes his thighs—he’s so tense, his muscles taut as a bowstring beneath his silken skin.

“Relax, darling,” Hob says, placing a kiss to the bony jut of his pelvis. “I’ve got you. Just let go and enjoy yourself.” He returns to his task of exploring Dream’s cock with his tongue, and Dream takes a long, quivering breath, loosening a fraction as he exhales. Hob can’t help but feel a bit smug at the knowledge that he’s gotten Dream so worked up he’s apparently forgotten he doesn’t need to breathe. “That’s it, love. Let me take care of you.”

He takes Dream’s bollocks into his mouth again, then moves lower to give a tentative lick to his hole. Dream gasps and startles at that, and Hob hears a choked-off “ah!” somewhere above his head.

Hmm, interesting.

Hob raises his head to see Dream looking down at him in wonder, mouth agape and eyes glazed. His cheeks are flushed a deep rose, and glistening drops of pre-cum decorate the alabaster plane of his abdomen. Hob smiles up at him, tracing a finger around the tight, twitching furl of muscle. “Has anyone ever touched you here before?” he murmurs.

“No,” Dream replies in a trembling whisper.

“May I?” Hob asks gently?

“Please,” Dream sighs, and Hob nearly comes untouched on the spot.

He slides a pillow under Dream’s hips and pushes his thighs upwards, gliding his hands along the smooth white flesh and trailing light kisses down to his spread arse cheeks. “Gonna make you feel so good, love. Just promise you’ll tell me to stop if I do anything you don’t like, alright?”

He glances up to see Dream nodding frantically, his eyes wide and black and glittering. “Yes. I trust you, Hob,” he says again.

Hob grins before diving in and licking a stripe from his entrance to his bollocks and back down, circling his tongue around the rim and nibbling at the tender pucker of milky skin. Dream moans and keens beautifully as Hob thoroughly slicks his hole with saliva, slurping and suckling and reveling in the sensation of Dream’s hairless, baby-soft flesh against his cheeks and chin. He dips his tongue inside, and Dream wails while Hob hums and groans enthusiastically. Dream is hot inside, and he tastes of petrichor and electricity and something Hob can’t identify but that he knows down to the very foundations of his soul (dreams, his mind supplies. He tastes like dreams).

“Hob!” Dream gasps, his voice rough and rasping. “Please—please—!”

Hob works his tongue in deeper, then pulls back and jabs it in again and again, until Dream is mewling and sobbing and writhing in ecstasy. He thinks he doesn’t want? I could teach him to want. Eat him out for hours until he’s sobbing and begging to come.

Just as the vision materializes in his head, Dream howls and clenches around Hob’s tongue. “Yes! Yes, Hob, please please please—I want—ahh!”

Hob has long suspected that his old friend could read his mind, and this all but confirms it. He shivers as he realizes the potential there—the possibilities are, well, endless. Hob withdraws his tongue and glances up, only to be met with the most beautiful sight he’s ever witnessed: Dream, red-faced and panting, his chest heaving, his lovely prick rock hard and leaking steadily against his porcelain stomach.

“Look at you. So bloody gorgeous,” Hob says hoarsely. “How are you feeling, darling? Good?” Dream nods, and Hob smiles and nuzzles against the back of his thigh. “Be a dear and grab the lube? It’s just in the top drawer there.” He tilts his head in the direction of the nightstand and Dream twists around to procure the half-empty pump bottle.

“It is not necessary,” Dream mumbles once he’s remembered to catch his breath, though he nonetheless hands the bottle over. “You cannot hurt me.”

“I know,” Hob replies lightly, shrugging one shoulder. “All the same, I’d prefer not to risk it. Indulge me.”

Dream’s lip quirks and he huffs a tiny laugh before settling back onto the pillows, graciously allowing Hob to continue. Of course he’d be a pillow princess, Hob thinks fondly as he squirts a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, spreading it over Dream’s puffy, fluttering hole. He works a finger inside slowly, and Dream makes the sweetest little noises as Hob strokes his tight, satiny walls and brings his other hand to Dream’s throbbing cock. Dream moans and arches upward into his hand, sighing in relief as the tension begins to bleed from his body.

“That’s it, darling. You’re doing so well. Just let go,” Hob coos. He adds a second finger and finds Dream’s prostate, brushing over it teasingly on every other thrust. “You feel so bloody good inside. Would love to fuck you sometime. Want you to fuck me, too. I could ride that beautiful cock of yours all day. Would you like that, love?”

“Yes—Hob—anything—please!” Dream cries breathlessly, grinding down wantonly on Hob’s fingers.

“Mm, we’ll work up to that. Right now I’d like to get my mouth on you, and you’re not going to last much longer, are you sweetheart?”

“I can—” Dream begins what would no doubt have been a devastating retort, but it tapers off into a high, quavering whine as Hob lowers his mouth to his cock, sinking down in a slow glide until he can feel the bulbous head in the back of his throat, trickling a warm rivulet of pre-come. He swallows, and Dream’s hands fly to his hair, gripping tightly as he starts fucking furiously into Hob’s mouth. Hob groans and ruts his own aching cock against the mattress as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of Dream’s slick, clutching entrance. It’s raw and rough and animalistic, and Hob is more than happy to let Dream use him however he pleases right now; he might come just from this.

With no warning save for a guttural growl and a stutter of his hips, Dream comes down Hob’s throat in thick, hot spurts. He shudders and gasps, tugging roughly on Hob’s hair before abruptly going limp and boneless. Hob swallows down the last drops of spend and slowly pulls his mouth and fingers away, panting raggedly.

He crawls up the bed to wrap Dream in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to his neck and shoulders. “You did so well, love,” Hob whispers proudly. “So beautiful when you let go like that.”

Dream hums and grinds languidly against Hob’s still-hard prick where it rests between the cleft of his arse. He wriggles around in Hob’s hold and captures his mouth in a deep, desperate kiss. He trails his lips along Hob’s jaw, down his neck and chest, steadily traveling southward until he is face to face with Hob’s cock. It’s a bit shorter than Dream’s, albeit thicker, and darker-toned; not as pretty, in Hob’s opinion, though Dream would appear to disagree—he’s practically got hearts in his eyes as he glides his cheek along the hefty, engorged length. He glances hesitantly up at Hob through his thick lashes, looking almost shy.

“You don’t have to, love,” Hob smiles down at him, running his fingers through Dream’s downy, soot-dark hair. “I just wanted to make you feel good, is all.”

“Indeed?” Dream smirks. “I thought that you were teaching me to indulge. So. Won’t you indulge me?”

Hob lets out a delighted laugh. “Well, suppose I can’t argue with that.”

Dream makes a noise of agreement, then swiftly takes Hob’s cock into his mouth, swallowing him to the root in the blink of an eye. Hob gasps at the sudden velvety warmth enveloping his prick, and his hips jerk involuntarily. Dream stills him with surprisingly strong hands, pinning him down and bobbing his head in quick, fluid motions. Dream’s mouth is… fucking sublime. Christ’s bloody wounds, he’s good at this. Hob brings his hands to Dream’s hair, not pulling but stroking and kneading his scalp. Dream rumbles in approval, his deep moans vibrating through Hob’s cock, and Hob throws his head back against the pillows.

“Not gonna last,” he grunts in warning.

Dream only takes him deeper, hollowing out his cheeks and slurping hungrily as he bobs his head faster. Hob looks down to see Dream gazing up at him with a blissfully dazed expression, his forget-me-not blue eyes glassy and his cheeks streaked with tears. Hob is hit with a flash of deja vu; he’s fantasized about exactly this on many a lonely night over the centuries, though his imaginings never came close to the divine, earth-shattering perfection that is Dream’s mouth. He comes with a choked sob, flooding Dream’s mouth with a torrent of spend, and Dream’s eyes flutter shut as he swallows it down eagerly.

“I love you—!” The words escape unbidden in a breathless whisper, dragged forth from somewhere deep within the core of Hob’s being, unable to be contained any longer after being left unsaid for over 600 years. Hob doesn’t realize what he’s said until Dream freezes, tightening his grasp on Hob’s hips and digging his sharp fingernails into his flesh. Then, he’s crawling up Hob’s body like a tiger pinning its prey, steely eyes boring straight into his soul.

Fuck. Of course, had to go and fuck it all up, didn’t you?

“You mean that,” Dream intones, low and sonorous. It is not a question.

“Yes,” Hob replies softly, his voice wavering as he braces himself for the inevitable swirl of sand as Dream disappears.

Instead, Dream swoops down and captures Hob’s mouth in a savage, frenzied kiss, growling and digging his fingers possessively into Hob’s ribcage. He claims him with kisses and bites and scratches and bruises, descending on Hob like a starving man on a feast, and Hob is only too pleased to let Dream glut himself on him. Dream could devour him whole, if that would make him happy.

Once he has thoroughly left his mark, Dream runs his eyes over Hob’s body in apparent satisfaction before nestling into his side and draping himself over his chest. “I think,” Dream says, curling a tuft of chest hair around his long pale fingers, “that I feel the same. About you.” He buries his face in Hob’s neck, and Hob pulls him into a crushing embrace, beaming as he plants a kiss to the top of his head.

“So,” Hob laughs through joyous tears, “would you still say you’re just existing? Because I think we did a lot of living today.”

Dream huffs into his shoulder. “You make a convincing argument,” he concedes, his voice muffled. Then he raises his head to look at Hob, his eyes shining with amusement. “However, I believe I will need more evidence before I can draw an accurate conclusion.”

“Oh, just you wait, darling,” Hob grins. “I happen to be an expert on living, and I’m going to show you all the little things that make it worthwhile.”

Dream’s smile fades slightly at that. Hob brings a hand to his cheek, tilting Dream’s chin up and meeting him in a tender kiss. “Hey,” he whispers. “D’you want to tell me what’s been going on? It’s just… Clearly, something’s bothering you, love. And if there’s any way I can help… You know I’d do anything for you, Dream.”

“You have helped. More than you realize. And… I will tell you what has happened. What I have done. Not today, but… I will tell you. Though you may come to hate me for it,” Dream sighs heavily.

“I could never hate you,” Hob replies automatically. Because it’s true; he’d fallen arse over teakettle for Dream when he thought he was the actual devil. “Whatever happened, we’ll sort it out, eh?”

Dream simply stares at him for a long moment before speaking again. “What do you think happens to a character when their story has finished being told?”

“Er—” Hob doesn’t know what he was expecting Dream to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. Dream has him fixed with a piercing gaze, obviously awaiting a well-thought-out answer. “Well… I guess that’s up to the character do decide, isn’t it? Once the story is over, they’re free to do what they want, I suppose.” He shrugs. This discussion is far too deep for pillow talk.

Dream frowns, furrowing his brows as he considers. “I believe there is some merit to your words,” he pronounces thoughtfully. “I have long believed that I have no story of my own. Perhaps I am wrong.”

“Maybe you’re just in the wrong story,” Hob yawns. He’s honestly lost the thread a bit by this point, and he’s not entirely sure what they were talking about to begin with. But that feels like the right thing to say, and Dream evidently agrees as he rests his cheek on Hob’s chest, just over his heart.

“Perhaps,” Dream murmurs, almost inaudibly.

“Like I said,” Hob says, stroking lightly down his back. “We’ll sort it out.” He yawns again, then winces at the strain on his sore jaw. “Tomorrow, though. Because I am absolutely knackered, darling.”

Dream hums, burrowing contently into Hob’s hold. “Yes. Sleep, beloved. And dream of me.”

Hob chuckles drowsily. “I always do.”

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Thanks for reading! Reblogs, as well as kudos and comments on ao3 are always appreciated! 💗💗💗

#dreamling #dreamling fanfiction #dreamling bingo #dreamling week 2024 #dreamling fanfic #dreamling fic #the sandman #sandman #sandman fanfic #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream x hob #hob x dream #nsft #zoom writes

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ananke-xiii · 3 months ago

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The natural order is absent fathers.

I’ve been trying to understand what the heck “natural order” means in Supernatural until I’ve finally realized I was giving it too much thought than necessary because it was much simpler than what I had in mind: the natural order in Supernatural is…. Supernatural from s1 to s3.

I can explain.

First of all, the natural order is an “arrangement”:

EVE: You misunderstand me. I never wanted that. Not at first. I liked our arrangement. SAM: What arrangement? EVE: The natural order. My children turned a few of you, you hunted a few of them. I was happy.

Eve turns up in s6 after s4-5 madness and she’s unhappy: the arrangement has been broken. This leads me to think that the key-factor in keeping the natural order alive and well is honoring deals. When Crowley starts crossing boundaries in s6 Eve steps up to put him back in his place. However, she doesn’t realize who her real enemy is until it was too late for her. As always, the enemy of the natural order, the breaker of deals, the one you cannot expect to keep his word, the snake in the grass is our very Castiel.

Billie shares Eve's storyline. She’s also unhappy about the discombobulation of the natural order and she takes it on the Winchesters and then later on specifically on Dean. What's more, with Billie we see that uncontrolled resurrections without deals are a real problem for her. She fails to realize who her mortal enemy is twice: once when she’s a reaper and Castiel stabs her in the back and in so doing he’s breaking a stupid deal; the second time when they die together in s15. This time, though, they die because Cas is honoring a deal, but he’s doing it on his own terms, not waiting around wondering what true happiness is but taking matter into his own hands. Although I have things to say about how happiness is framed in “Despair”, I’ve got to admit that, in its own convoluted way, it was a badass move.

Interestingly, when it comes to Chuck we don’t see the same respect and passion for the natural order that Eve and Billie seem to share. This is also where I think the writers sort of dropped the ball. In s11 it was established that Chuck had created nature and then nature “created on its own”. Here he seems to respect nature and calls it “divine”. In “The Trap”, however, he says the following things:

SAM: It'll be better. It'll be better. It'll be better. If we win – When we win – When we beat you, I will make it better! CHUCK: You can't, Sam. You, Sam Winchester, have been playing fast and loose with the laws of nature and magic for a very long time – you and your brother. Always breaking the rules. And that's what I love about you, Sam. It's so heroic. It's so...Promethean. But there's still so much about the fabric of the universe that you don't know... that you can't know. 'Cause you're only humans. But I'm God. Think about what I showed you. Look beyond the Mark, beyond you and Dean fanging out – heartbreaking, but not the headline news. SAM: The monsters. CHUCK: The monsters. CHUCK: Without me, it's a law of nature – dark forces prevail, monsters rule, and you, your brother, and everyone you love will die. Can you really live with that?

First of all I find it fascinating that Chuck, of all people, likes Sam and Dean precisely because they break the rules (but then he can't stand Castiel, looool, much to think about). He’s eventually angry at them because they don’t follow his script but he’s ultimately invested in these characters to such a degree that he calls them “Promethean”. Now, lol because didn’t Prometheus die, like, in s8 or something? But also: Prometheus is the hero who got impaled on the mountains of Caucasus because he defied Zeus (*cough* like *cough* Dean Winchester*cough*). So whether Chuck likes their "heroism" or not he only likes it up to a certain point (and this certain point is when their actions reveal his secret desires for self-destruction but that's for another day). For sure he wickedly enjoys when he vicariously breaks the rules and the natural order arrangement via Sam and Dean's actions. Not so much when it's Castiel who inserts himself into the fabrics of his story.

Secondly, “without me, it’s a law of nature”. What does that mean? I promised I wasn’t gonna go too philosophical so I went for the simpler route. If we leave aside the “dark forces” and “monsters rule” shit, what Chuck is saying is basically that without him the natural order will prevail. Which should be a good thing, right? Right?! Which also means that he himself is as much of a disruptor of the natural order as Castiel (oh-oh). Just like Billie, Chuck likes breaking the rules only when he or one of this favorite characters break them. Unlike Castiel and the Winchesters, however, he’s on a different plane of knowledge (therefore power) because there’s so much more about the fabrics of the universe that they can’t know but he can. After all, he is God and he (according to SPN) has created nature itself. So what’s Chuck’s signature on this "divine" masterpiece? What are the foundations of the natural order? I think the answer can be found in “Free to be You and Me”:

DEAN: The hell did you do? CASTIEL: I don't know. I just looked her in the eyes and told her it wasn't her fault that her father Gene ran off. It was because he hated his job at the post office. DEAN: Oh, no, man. CASTIEL: What? DEAN: This whole industry runs on absent fathers. It's, it's the natural order.

That’s it, that’s the natural order according to Supernatural: it’s about absent fathers. It’s on their absence that “this whole industry” runs. Which not so incidentally is also the premise of Supernatural and, like, the whole plot of the first two seasons (and beyond but I'm talking "Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home for a few days" type of absent father, that is John Winchester).

So if my understanding is correct, it’s accurate to say that Billie won in the finale because the natural order was re-established: nobody is resurrected, they all eventually die and Sam and Dean go on a hunt guided by their absent father’s journal, something we haven’t seen in ages, on a case that John himself had worked on something like maybe 20 years prior? Which is what they did in the first seasons of the show. They even meet a vampire from S1 who was there to signal precisely that: they're back in the past, only not in a positive way because it's a fictional past. A past with a mask.

Yes, the natural order is just the past through rose-colored glasses, a “let’s go back to the fun times of season 1-3 before all that angels-and-god-non-sense”. Which is technically possible but practically anachronistic. These two men are not in their 20s anymore, they're fully grown adults who've been through... let's just say a lot. It's a glorification of youth and a "forever young"ism that I find quite worrying. Moreover, with these premises Castiel couldn’t ever come back because, together with Chuck, he was one of the main disturbers of the natural order, aka the way Supernatural was before S4. Chuck's mistake was precisely inserting himself into the narrative because, in so doing, The Father is no longer absent while he must stay so according to the rule of the natural order. That's the arrangement. Chuck and Castiel's narrative fates are thus weirdly knotted together because the arrangement excludes deal-breakers/father-figures like them. Ironically, the ultimate absent father is not God but John Winchester, period. His absence is Order. It's the Law, aka what gives meaning to reality.

The implications of the finale are problematic because why on earth would you end your series like that? It's not even a positive "full-cycle" moment, it's just sad and uncanny in the freudian sense of the word. I know and understand that Dabb was working on his retelling so that we could all go back to the beginning but what is the point to go back without growth? Or to go back and then die? Or to go back and just leave? To me it doesn't make sense from a storytelling pov. I repeat, why would the people involved in this series decide to go down that road I cannot know. I suspect that they took the emotional, fake-happy ending road because Covid had destroyed the world as we know it so maybe they opted for an ending that would comfort people ("comfort" in the sense that's familiar to people, it follows an established path that's recognizable and doesn't destabilize them, which, for the record, I think they failed to do). Or maybe the intent was precisely the uncanny, that feeling of something disturbing and unsettling in what should be familiar and comfortable for us. As in: the story ends like it began, nothing has really changed and everything can only get resolved in the after-life. True happiness is not in the having, it's in just being (dead in Heaven with your brother). I don't know, two things can be true at the same time, but I'm not gonna lie I smell traditionalism, conservatism and heroism as a cult of death that's very Ur-fascist.

Not that anybody has asked for this but, unlike Eve and Billie, I’m actually quite happy because I’ve managed to find an answer to one of my own questions.

#insert laura dern's monologue from “marriage story”#supernatural #spn #castiel #sam winchester #dean winchester #chuck shurley #billie won theory #spn s15 #the natural order #eve mother of monsters #billie spn #spn meta #spn lines #super-m/Others #myths we live by #q #on resurrection

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reigningqueenofwords · 8 months ago

Text

Paintings

Pairing: Castiel x Winchester!Reader Word count: 1,953

Read on AO3

Sitting in the room that your brothers had set up for you, you tilted your head as you looked over the canvas in front of you. You were surrounded by some finished pieces, pieces you’d started and were waiting for new inspiration for, and then some pieces you hated and just never threw away. You were wearing a pair of old jeans and a tank top, not caring about the amount of paint that currently covered you.

There was a knock on the door before it opened. When you looked over your shoulder, you were met with Dean’s face. “Sis, we kill things for a living, so please tell me why you paint like this?” He motioned around as he stepped it.

“Like what?” You raised an eyebrow at him, looking innocent.

He played Vanna White at your current piece. “Like you just ripped a guy’s heart out and decided to paint with it?!” He said simply. “It’s weird.” He shuddered. “It’s like the murder room in here.” He explained.

You blinked. “Huh.” You shrugged. “I never thought of it that way.” You admitted. “Maybe it’s my way of working through things we see? You drink and jack off to Busty Asian Beauties. Sam nerds out. I paint.” That was your best theory. “And spend time with Cas when he can.” You pouted. He’d been somewhat busy lately, leaving you little time with your boyfriend.

“Hopefully he can take you out soon. Get you away from this.” He motioned to your work again. “Can’t you paint something with life?” He asked.

“I could try, but it probably wouldn’t be any good.” You told him.

He rolled his eyes. “You’ve got talent, so stop trying to pretend you don’t. Anyways, dinner is done.” He moved towards the door. “Can you take a break from blood and guts to eat with your older brothers?” He teased you.

“Give me five minutes to put the covers on my pallets and clean my brushes.” You smiled. “And get me a beer?” You asked him, going to work on cleaning up. “And not one of those alcohol free ones you’re hell bent on me drinking.”

“You’re my baby sister, so sue me.”

Stopping what you were doing, you stared at him. “Dean. I turned thirty two months ago .” You laughed. “I’m not a baby!”

“Shuddup.” He muttered before leaving you alone.

“Wash your hands.” Sam told you as he set things out on the table. “I know your hands are covered in paint.”

You chuckled. “Jokes on you. My hands are clean, Sammy.” You showed him when he looked up at you. “Had to clean my brushes.” You explained. “Need any help?” You offered.

He smiled. “Nope. We’re good.” He sat down as Dean brought over three beers. “I actually cooked dinner. No takeout tonight.” He said proudly.

“Oh, impressive. And I was so getting used to the bad Chinese and Taco Bell.” You teased, getting yourself comfortable. “And thank you for the real beer.” You told Dean, lifting it to your lips.

Cas appeared a moment later. “Oh, you’ve already begun dinner.” He sighed. “I was hoping to take Y/N for a date.” He explained. “Perhaps another night.” He noted, sitting down.

Dean nudged you. “Go on.” He told you. “Or he’s going to pout like a puppy who lost his bone.” He teased his best friend. It had been weird as hell when you first started dating him, but over time...he was okay with it. “Besides, that ‘another night’ might not happen for weeks for all we know.” He pointed out.

“You sure?” You looked between the boys. “You cooked.” You reminded Sam.

He smiled, nodding. “I can easily put the leftovers in the freezer.” He assured you. “Go.”

You got up, moving to hug each of your brothers. “You’re the best. Love you. I promise I’ll work on that ‘life’ painting tomorrow, Dean!” You kissed his cheek, making him chuckle and shake his head. You got to Cas and held out your hand. “All yours!”

Cas’s face lit up as he stood. “I am looking forward to our date. I’ve missed you.” He said sweetly before he kissed you.

Dean made a face. “Dude.” He said jokingly.

“Going!” You laughed, tugging Cas out of the room. “Let me change and then we can go. Did you have someplace in mind?” You asked as you neared your room. “So I know how to dress.”

“You are fine in what you are wearing.” He chuckled. “Although, I would suggest shoes.” He pointed out. “I find I enjoy when you are covered in paint. Means you had a good day in your ‘studio’, which I know makes you happy.” His blue eyes traveled over your body as he spoke.

You blushed and looked at him. “Can I show you my latest work?” You asked shyly, wanting to see if he thought the same thing as Dean.

He beamed. “Of course.” He nodded, letting you tug him in the direction of your little studio. “I always enjoy seeing it.” He had simply watched you work for hours on end before, observing you. It was beautiful.

Opening the door, you let him in and shut it behind him. “Dean doesn’t get my work.” You told him. “Says it looks like I took a guy’s heart and painted with it or something.” You traced your fingers gently over the outside of your new canvas. “Asked me to paint something with ‘life’.” You sighed.

“What is more full of life than blood?” Cas asked. When you looked at him, eyebrow raised, he smiled at you. “Blood truly is life.” He pointed out. “Without it, humans would die, animals would parish.”

You nodded at that. “That is a very good point.” You agreed. “Dean calls it the murder room.” You shrugged. “I dunno, just wanted your opinion. I never noticed it until he said that. I like my work. It speaks to me. Except for those.” You pointed to the corner. “Those are my disowned works.”

He chuckled lightly. “Why do you keep them?” He asked, curious.

“Inspiration to do better?” You guessed, chewing on your lip as you looked around. Slowly, you smiled at him. “I have an idea…” You moved to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And I need the help of a certain angel.” You flirted.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. “And how may I help you?” He asked, voice low.

Pecking his lips, you grinned. “Strip.” You patted his chest.

“Strip? As in, remove my clothing?” He asked, wanting to clarify things.You nodded as you slowly pulled away, taking off your tank top.

Both of you stripped, eyes never leaving each other as you did so. “Now, pick some paint.” You pointed to where there was a bunch of new bottles. “No more than say six. Don’t want it to get muddy.” You moved things out of the way as he looked over his options, wanting them to be perfect. Once there was enough room, you set up as many canvases as you could fit in the area.

“Are these okay?” He asked, turning with two bottles in each hand- teal, dark blue, emerald green, and a color that reminded you of his eyes.

“Perfect.” You nodded, excited. “Give me two.” You reached out, getting dark blue and emerald green. “Now shoot streaks all over the place. On these canvases.” You told him.

“And this will create ‘life art’?” He asked as he opened his two bottles.

You did the same. “It’s the start.” You explained. “Move around to get some all over.” You told him, not staying put. Once you felt there was enough, you stopped. “That’s good. Can you put these over there?” You handed him your bottles and motioned to the ones that were opened.

Castiel nodded, taking them. “Of course.” He agreed. “Now...what?” He was curious as you walked across the canvases towards him.

“Now, you’re going to lay me down on these and we’re going to enjoy each other.” You ran your hand over his chest. “We’re going to make a painting with our bodies.” Kissing him softly, you smiled.

His hands gripped your hips. “I will not object to that.” He told you, kissing you lovingly as the pair of you moved to lay down.

Dean was walking by your room when he heard you laughing and paused. He furrowed his brows, moving towards it. “Sis?” He called out before opening the door. “Oh, come on .” He instantly left.

Walking into the kitchen, your hair was wet and you were wearing your bathrobe. Cas wasn’t that far behind, a smile on his face. He was dressed in his own clothes, but his hair was also wet. “Please erase that image from my mind.” Dean down the last of his beer.

“Hey, you asked me to create a life painting.” You smirked.

“I didn’t say ‘make babies in paint’!” He countered, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I want to forget that sight.” He groaned.

Cas furrowed his brows. “We were not ‘making babies’.” He told Dean. “I have no wish to lose her to childbirth.”

You giggled as Dean put his head on the table. “I think you’re breaking him.” You told your boyfriend. “Let’s just get my ice cream and go watch a movie.” You said as you got a bowl. “I’m sure it’ll pass, Dean.” You told your older brother. “You’ll be okay.”

He shook his head, not moving it from the table. “I regret telling you to make ‘life paintings’. Please, stick to your murder work.” He turned his head to look at you.

“I might. Depends on if these sell.” You shrugged.

That made him sit up. “Sell?” He asked, curiosity piqued. “What are you talking about? You’ve never mentioned selling your work before.”

You nodded, finishing getting your ice cream and putting it away. “It was Cas’s idea. Said that my talent should be shared, and it might be a good way for us to make some spare cash.” You turned to lean against the counter, bowl in hand. “So, I’m going to ask Sam to help me figure out how to sell some stuff online.” You explained.

Dean smiled at that. “See, told you that you have talent.” He said proudly. “You got a ton of work in there you can sell.”

“Except I requested she keep one of our pieces.” Cas noted.

“Please never mention your ‘pieces’ again.” Dean said over his shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find something to take my mind off...that.” He moved to the fridge to grab another beer before leaving the two of them alone.

Running through the bunker when you heard Dean get home from a supply run. “Dean!” You were nearly jumping with excitement. “Guess what?!” You squealed.

“What?” He laughed, loving seeing you like this.

“Everything. Sold.” You told him. “In just the time that you were gone.” You gushed. “Cas and Sam and helping me get everything wrapped up. The buyer is in the city.” You explained. “All. One. Buyer.”

His eyebrows went up. “One?!” He grinned. “That’s amazing. You sure it’s legit?” He didn’t want you getting screwed over.

You nodded. “He’s sent half the money already.” You told him. “We meet him about dinner time. And, then after, I’d like to take my big brothers out to celebrate.”

“What about Cas?” He asked.

“We’re going away for a few days, leaving Friday.” You told him happily. “Going to Greece. Saving on airfare, thankfully.”

Dean hugged you, happy for you. “You’ll be in a museum one day.” He beamed.

#castiel x reader #cas x reader #castiel oneshot

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elvenisms · 2 years ago

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friday —; s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader [3.5k]

summary: Robin orchestrates the best (and worst) Valentine's Day of your life.

cw: angst, fluff, cursing, no use of y/n, steve is an idiot (per usual), reader cries a lot (relatable), happy ending.

author's note: i got carried away with this, ngl. proof that i cannot write anything fluffy without angst. enjoy!

masterlist

It was Thursday.

Thursdays were good days. You didn’t work, giving you some well-needed rest from wearing that stupid vest, rewinding tapes, and dealing with late returns. You could throw on a movie you’d been meaning to watch for weeks, invite some friends over, and veg out. You could go see a show at The Hideout, if someone interesting was playing. Sometimes, Thursday was laundry day. But today wasn’t any Thursday.

Today was Thursday, February 13th, 1986. The day before Valentine’s Day.

“Vickie and I are going to do something, we just don’t know what.” Robin pushed her lips together, toying with a loose piece of thread on your couch. “I mean, obviously we’ll have a little date during the day, but we thought a group thing would be fun, ya’ know?”

Eddie had come over to watch Day of the Dead with you that day, and when Robin got off work, she called to see what you were up to. “Hanging out with Eds, pretending Valentine’s Day doesn’t exist.” You’d quipped, which is precisely how she ended up in your house, talking about Valentine’s Day.

“As much as I’d love to third-wheel,” Eddie stretched. “I’m going to see a show. Some new guys, but I heard they’re good.”

“Yeah, I’m…” You wracked your brain for something you had to do, trying to get out of it, just as Eddie had. “I’m, uh, working. And then… Oh, I told Max I’d help her study? Some test she has. Science, I think.”

Eddie and Robin both eyed you judgmentally. It was entirely unconvincing, and also a lie. The Max part, anyway.

“Oh, give me a break,” You grunted, their faces saying enough. “I already told you, Rob, tomorrow is just Friday as far as I’m concerned.”

“But you don’t want it to just be Friday,” She remarked. “You want it to be Valentine’s Day, but you’re lonely.”

A huff of air came through Eddie’s nose, trying not to laugh at her well-meaning bluntness. You gave him a sour look, and he quickly dropped it.

“Thank you for reminding me,” You muttered, leaning forward to pick up some empty beer bottles from the table, carrying them to the trash can in the kitchen.

You weren’t actually mad, not at Robin. You were frustrated with the fact that you cared about some stupid holiday, that you couldn’t just be like Eddie, who genuinely didn’t give a shit. Unwilling to admit it to yourself, you were also mad that every guy in Hawkins you’d gone out with was a total disaster; Matthew Campbell probably couldn’t tie a shoelace if you asked him to, and you told him that, so you didn’t suspect he’d be knocking on your door tomorrow.

You waltzed back into the living room to your unsuspecting victims, now on a tirade you’d created in your own head. “It’s not my fault that there is no one in this town for me, okay? I’ve officially given up. I’m tired of putting on makeup, going to Enzo’s, and making awful small talk, for which the reward is a lackluster trip to second base in the back of a ca—”

Robin gasped as if she’d seen a ghost. Your rant halted, staring at her, and she looked back with wide eyes, jaw agape. “How have I never put this together?”

She looked like she’d just had a stroke of genius, discovered a new element, or something. You looked at Eddie, then back to her. “Put what together? That I’m hopeless?”

“No, no no,” She leapt up off of the couch, starting to pace. “You sound just like—oh my God, this is incredible. I mean, this is actually perfect—”

“Robin!” You threw your arms out, exasperated, letting them smack against your sides.

“Steve!” She exclaimed, gripping your shoulders. “Steve, who is also lonely and has no plans for tomorrow!”

Your insides twisted. Steve.

You would’ve been lying to yourself if you said you’d never thought about him that way before. I mean, you had eyes, but your close friendship had never allowed it to last more than a minute. More than anything, the two of you poked fun at each other, constantly trying to see who could get the last word. But you were still close, close enough that you knew he’d come running if you ever really needed him, and that was… nice.

Everything about him was nice, really.

You blinked at Robin, your gears shifting at impossible speeds. She was still holding your shoulders, expectant.

“I think she’s on board.” Eddie piped up with a smirk, and you instantly held a finger out to him, still looking at the girl in front of you. “I didn’t say that.”

“You’re saying it with your eyes.” Robin was containing a giddy squeal. You could almost feel her vibrating.

“No, no, I’m not.” You finally broke free from her grasp. Now you were pacing. “If Steve was interested in me, he would’ve said something a long time ago.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Are we talking about the same guy?”

“Yeah, dingus, with a capital ‘D’,” Robin gestured with her hands. “I saw a bird land on his head once and he asked me what I was looking at. You think he’d notice he had a shot with you?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Okay, that’s… yeah, you’re right. But I’m not just gonna call him up and ask him to be my Valentine. I’d rather puke.”

“So don’t!” Robin spun around, another lightbulb behind her eyes. “I have an idea.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

This was a terrible idea.

You were staring into your mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles on your clothes. You’d gone for not-trying-too-hard cute; a black turtleneck with a calf-length, patterned skirt, and a thick belt around your waist. You’d done your hair and your makeup, satisfied with them, but this time felt… different. You weren’t going to Enzo’s with some tip-stiffing lowlife. You were seeing Steve.

Robin had suggested a gathering at your place. She, Vickie, Nancy, and Jonathan were sitting in your living room, sipping drinks, chatting mindlessly. When she’d invited Steve, she’d said that the four of them were going to your house—assuming he’d pick up the hint, and jump at the chance to be your date.

And he did.

The real reason you’d never allowed Steve to infiltrate your mind was because, well, that’s exactly what he’d do. You could handle losing Matthew Campbell, or Ben Taylor, or any of these meaningless Hawkins guys you never realistically saw yourself with in the first place; but Steve was close. Close to your friends, close to your heart, inching ever nearer by the minute.

It was terrifying. But then again, he agreed to come—–and that made your stomach flutter.

Deciding you’d spent enough time making sure every last hair was in order, you took a deep breath, venturing back out to the living room. You were greeted with warm, knowing smiles.

“You look gorgeous.” Nancy rose from her seat, coming over to give your arms a comforting rub. “Really, he’s not gonna know what hit him.”

You nodded, trying not to look as nervous as you felt. “Thanks, Nance.”

“It makes so much sense, doesn’t it? I mean, I really should play matchmaker more often. I’m changing lives here!” Robin shook Vickie’s thigh where her hand rested, excitedly. It made everyone chuckle.

Jonathan took another sip of his drink. “Now you’ve just gotta find someone for Ed—”

A knock at the door. Fuck. In an instant, every ounce of confidence you had flew straight out of the window. And your face must’ve shown it, because Nancy began soothing you again.

“Hey, look at me.” She whispered, and you did. “You’ve never been this nervous to see him before, right? Pretend this is just another day. Just… Friday.”

You swallowed. It definitely wasn’t just Friday anymore.

Nonetheless, you shot a weak, thankful smile at her, making your way up to the door. Usually, you’d be embarrassed to let your friends see you this way—taking deep breaths, shaking your hands to relieve some anxious energy. Right now, though, you couldn’t care less, much too preoccupied with the thought of Steve’s face. Just open it. Open the door.

So, you did.

And there he was, grinning adorably, smelling of his cologne, wearing a well-fitted sweater... Holding hands with a girl.

“Hey,” He spoke happily, though his eyes searched your face for just a moment, as if you’d let the shock slip through. “This is Brenda.”

Your whole body stiffened, knowing that the rest of the group heard him, and were now searing holes through the back of your head. Your stomach flipped over on itself, even your organs mortified.

“Hi, Brenda.” You forced a smile at the girl, as if every nerve in your body wasn’t on fire. “Come on in.”

As you turned around, you studied the expressions in the room, seeking some kind of escape. Nancy and Vickie at least tried to look normal, staring at the ground or taking a sip of their drink; Jonathan’s brow was furrowed in disbelief, and Robin’s mouth was hanging open, eyes locked on you.

You quickly walked to the couch where Nancy and Jonathan sat, just standing beside it, your fight-or-flight instinct physically unwilling to let you sit. At least Steve and Brenda would have a spot now, right?

The embarrassment was already making your eyes water.

As the two of them entered the uncomfortably silent living room, you saw his eyes scan the room, similarly to how you had—like he was searching for something. And when he didn’t find it, his eyes landed back on you, any trace of his previous smile gone.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” Brenda chirped to the group, the tension completely unnoticed by her.

You felt suffocated. Suffocated by your turtleneck, by the silence, by Brenda’s curly, blonde hair and perfectly pink lips—but mostly by Steve, who was still staring at you. You refused to look back.

“Music!” You squawked, mind numb. “We should put on some music, it’s so quiet—” You strided toward your box of cassettes, sat beside the television, and began scrambling with them. “—I’ve got Tears for Fears, or, um, oh! ABBA, everyone likes ABBA, right? Uh…”

Without you even noticing, Nancy appeared at your side, gently grabbing the tapes from your hands. “Hey, hey. I’ll pick out some music, okay?” Her voice was quiet, forehead creased in concern.

Your movements slowed. You nodded, eyes half-welled with tears. The dam was definitely about to break.

“Okay, well,” You stood up again, arms swaying slightly, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “You guys sit. I’m, um… I’ll be right back.”

You spun on your heel, making your way to your bedroom, closing the door behind you by leaning on it. The tears began to fall immediately, streaking your face with mascara.

You felt stupid. Stupid for ever letting Robin set this up, stupid for spending so much time making yourself presentable, when Brenda looked so effortlessly beautiful. You’d convinced yourself it would be some sort of magical night, which seemed ridiculous now. Why would Steve want you? More importantly, why would you ever let him affect you this way?

Your chest heaved, trying desperately to keep quiet. The last thing you wanted was more pity.

Soon enough, you heard a soft click from the living room, the faint sounds of Kate Bush coming through the speakers. You considered your options: hide in your room until the party was over, risk someone coming to check on you, go back out there and endure stares of sympathy, or… Leave.

A rush of adrenaline surged through you, bringing you to your feet. You went to your mirror, attempting to smear away the black marks under your eyes—it was useless, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. Eddie would call it metal. So, for where you were headed, it was actually perfect.

You snatched your purse off of the dresser, the hurt morphing from sadness to anger, and marched out into the living room, making a bee-line for the front door. Everyone’s heads perked up. Your hand met the doorknob, gripping it tightly, before Steve appeared next to you.

“Hey, can you just wait a sec—where are you going?” He spoke softly, avoiding the rest of the rooms prying ears. His voice was hoarse.

You didn’t look at him. “I’m going to see a show with Eddie.”

“Can you let me explain? Please, just—”

Your head turned sharply, reddened eyes daggering through his solemn, brown ones. “I’m embarrassed, Steve. I’m…” You swallowed, fighting back any more tears. “I can’t be here right now. Can’t I just go?”

He brought a hand up, running it anxiously through his own hair. He looked dejected, and despite how much you wanted to hate him at this moment, your heart panged. It wasn’t enough to make you stay; not when Brenda was still on your couch. Not when the rest of the group felt sorry for you.

“Okay,” He finally breathed, barely audible. You started to open the door, and he softly took hold of your wrist. “Just be safe. Please.”

You looked at him, heart thrumming in your chest, eyelashes stuck together from the mixture of tears and makeup. “Have a good night. I’m… I’m sorry I ruined it.”

And with that, you were out the door, despite his attempt to say something else.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The show was an adequate distraction.

When you’d shown up at The Hideout, scouting Eddie out in the crowd, he was shocked to see you. He was even more shocked to see the state you were in—makeup destroyed, eyes puffy, a hand clinging shakily to your purse. He immediately threw an arm around you, eyes expectant for an explanation.

“He brought a girl,” you’d shouted over the music. Eddie couldn’t have rolled his eyes any harder, squeezing your arm in frustration. “He’s even dumber than I thought then,” He yelled back.

Steve was dumb. Purposefully dumb? You didn’t think so, and that made it all the more difficult to stay angry.

You were thankful for Eddie more than ever. He was always great at taking your mind off of things, getting you to let loose, have fun; it may have been the worst Valentine’s Day of your life, but at least he had given it some kind of silver lining. It was almost impossible not to smile around him, especially when he was acting extra goofy, insistent on lifting your spirits.

When he drove you home, the events of the night began to set in again. You dreaded your next conversation with Steve, whenever that would happen—I’m so sorry, but I just don’t feel that way about you, you could hear him saying, shoving the embarrassment deeper down your throat.

You considered never speaking to him again, just to spare yourself that feeling.

“Do you want me to come in?” Eddie laid a gentle hand on your knee, his beaten-up car parked a few feet from your door.

“No, I’m okay.” You assured him, unconvincingly, and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Think I just need to wallow tonight, y’know?”

He nodded, looking down at his lap. “I’m sorry, seriously. Kind of want to kill the kid.”

That brought a small smile to your face. “Don’t tempt me, I might just give you the go-ahead.”

The two of you looked at each other, sharing a small chuckle. Eventually, you reached over, hugging him tight.

“Thank you for tonight. Really, I needed it.” You whispered, and he gave your back a comforting rub. “Anytime, you know that.”

You exited the car, already starting to wish you’d said yes to Eddie’s offer, and made your way to the door. Through the windows, you could see that most of the lights were off—everyone had gone home, thank God, though you were sure Robin and Nancy would be calling off the hook to talk about everything.

You jiggled the handle open, greeted by your dark living room, apart from the one lamp emanating warm light. And underneath it, Steve.

Sitting upright on the couch, head leaned back, arms crossed. Fast asleep.

You froze, a tightness in your chest. It was exactly what you didn’t want right now, to see him, have to talk to him. And for whatever reason, something in you was glad to find him there.

You softly shut the door behind you, sat your bag on the coffee table, and took a seat beside him. The cushion dipping under your weight caused him to stir awake: his head lulled to the side, eyes fluttering open. They widened at the sight of you.

“Hey.” His voice was gravelly from sleep, and he was quick to adjust himself to a more awake position. He cleared his throat, though it did little for his voice. “You’re home.”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, toying with your skirt. “Did… did you stay?”

“I was worried about you.” He looked into your eyes, and you wanted to look away, but you didn’t. “And I needed to talk to you.”

“What about Brenda?”

“I took her home. Came back.”

“Look,” You started, finding the strength to avert your gaze. “I don’t… I don’t want anyone else feeling bad for me. It was Robin’s idea, and of course you don’t feel that way about me, it was really stupid of me to assume—”

“Stop.” He blurted, somewhat forcefully. You blinked at him. “Please, just stop. I fucked up tonight, really bad. When I got the invite, I thought you’d have someone with you. It just… I’m an idiot. If I wasn’t an idiot, I would’ve never brought Brenda.”

Your stomach flipped familiarly, like it did when you heard a knock at the door earlier. “She was beautiful, though.”

“She isn’t you.” His hand landed on your thigh, and his eyes darted to it for a moment, as if he hadn’t meant to. You both lingered there.

When he realized you weren’t going to push it away, he continued. “If—if when you went out with Eddie… I mean, if I blew my chance, I understand.”

Blew his chance. You wondered if he could ever truly do that.

“Steve, Eddie was just cheering me up.” You couldn’t help but smile a little, putting your hand over his. “He’s not my Valentine, if that’s what you’re asking. He does kind of want you dead, though.”

“They all want me dead, trust me.” He blew air out of his lips, eyebrows raising.

“What do you mean?”

“After you left, Brenda went to the bathroom, and I got a thorough bitching out.”

You bit your lip, trying to hide the happiness that brought you. “You kind of deserved it, though.”

“Oh, absolutely.” He affirmed. There were a few moments of stillness, your touching hands drawing both of your attention.

“Is Brenda your Valentine?” You wondered, voice softer.

“Didn’t ask her to be.” He looked up at you, voice matching your tone. “Are you still… looking for one?”

Your eyes were locked, melting under each other's gaze. You could almost feel his breath. His free hand came up to cradle your face, thumbing across your stained cheek.

“There’s really only one I wanted.”

“Same here.” He whispered.

You quickly leaned forward, disturbing the stillness of the moment, and slotted your lips with his. He tasted like beer and strawberry chapstick, and smelled like a warm summer day—one that broke through the chill you’d been feeling all evening. Butterflies erupted inside you, fluttering in your stomach, your heart, your veins.

Your hands came up to clutch at his chest, the fabric of his sweater crinkling beneath your fingers. The kiss, which had started fervent, softened; the two of you broke apart, and he stole a peck at the corner of your mouth, foreheads resting against each other.

You both took heavy breaths, caused more by emotion than physical exertion, chests rising and falling in unison.

“I gotta make it up to you.” He breathed. You shook your head ever so slightly, a grin playing across your lips.

“Steve, you already—”

“I’ll be your Valentine every day, for as long as you let me.”

You thought it might’ve been the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you. Your forehead creased, trying not to let your eyes water, this time for a much better reason. As close as your faces were, you knew he noticed anyway.

“Deal?” His eyes searched your own, voice small, as if he was afraid you might say no.

You couldn’t stop a happy huff from leaving your lips, a single tear fighting its way out of the corner of your eye. “Deal.”

He beamed, pressing his lips into yours, as if he’d been awaiting the opportunity to do it again.

Steve Harrington became yours on Valentine’s Day, 1986. A Friday. A day you’d almost always ignored, until you didn’t. A day you were almost certain was going to be the worst day of your life, until it wasn’t. In fact, it might’ve been the best.

Because Steve would continue to be yours each Friday after that—and every day in between, too.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction

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ubernatural · 4 months ago

Text

Due to the overwhelming majority of positive votes on my poll, this is a small snip of my as of now unnamed destiel fic. Please please please talk to me about how I can improve or what you liked about it <3

———

Cas was alone. Again. His roommate had fucked off, predictably, and left him to stew alone in their half unpacked room right before his first classes of the year. Normally, he’s fine being by himself. Thrives in it, really. But after the way he left things with his family, he’s craving human contact more than ever.

His parents will tell you he “ran away,” but, really, he just never told them he got accepted into KU. He just packed his bags, and left for the fall semester. He had been working jobs since he was fifteen and had saved every last cent of his pay, so he had some money to help with tuition. He also got one mean scholarship, so all he really needs are the books. But that won't stop his parents from calling him “selfish” and “entitled” when all he really wants is to live his life not being constantly squished into the image of the perfect son that hasn’t fit him in a long ass time.

It also doesn’t help that they are super religious and did not support him coming out as gay. They insisted it was a “phase” and “would pass.” But Cas had known for years that he was into men. He knew it before when he picked a girl in class to “like” just so he would fit in. He knew it in Senior year when Hannah, a girl in his school, invited him over to her house to study, or so he thought. She said she was going to change into something more comfortable and he figured that meant pajamas, but apparently that meant buck ass nude. He was embarrassed and, frankly, grossed out. He made a speedy exit, and avoided her for the rest of the year. His parents, Chuck in particular, kept asking him what ever happened to “that lovely Hannah girl.” Well, now they know why they never saw her again.

Pushing away the thought of his family, he rises from his bed to get ready. He throws on a pair of worn dark wash jeans, a black shirt, and pulls a battered gray zip-up over it all. He grabs the old messenger bag he was able to snatch from his father before he left, and fills it with the books he’s going to need today.

The walk to class was pretty uneventful. It was a nice day, and Cas only got lost once. He quickly asked for directions, and was relieved that he wasn’t even that far off course.

He was still pretty proud of himself when he got to the lecture hall. It was relatively full, but not so that it was hard to find a seat. He ended up picking one close to the middle next to a small redhead with glasses. They shared a polite smile before she reached her hand out for him to shake. “Hey there. I’m Charlie.”

Cas tentatively grasped her hand and gave it a firm shake. “Hello, Charlie. My name is Castiel.”

“Oh, that’s so cool! I might have to steal it for my new DnD character,” she playfully shoots back.

“Yes, well, you would be too late considering it’s already the name of mine.” His lips tick up in a smile as he sees her face brighten.

“Dude, you should totally come over and play sometime! I’ve only got one other friend who plays, and his younger brother who’s usually our DM.” Her eyes widen a fraction before she continues frantically, “I mean, obviously you don’t have to, and this is kinda weird since we know basically nothing about each other and-”

“I would love to join you, Charlie.” He cuts off her rambling before she can talk herself out of his invite.

Her face splits into a wide grin, and she’s beaming again. “Did we just become besties?” she asks.

“Yes, I believe we did,” Cas amusedly answers.

The Queen: handmaiden, come quick

emergency dnd meet in my room

now!

and bring the good popcorn

Dean gets the text as he’s finishing his last class for today. He’s pretty drained from all of the “introduce yourself” and “get to know you” chats that he was forced into all day. The sun’s setting, and all he really wanted was to curl up in bed and maybe watch Tombstone for the millionth time. But he loves Charlie, and he can’t refuse his queen. He shoots off a text saying he’ll be right there, and heads for his room to get the requested snack.

Ten minutes later, he’s standing outside Charlie’s dorm with the half cheesy, half caramel popcorn that she likes. He knocks once and is utterly unprepared for what he sees when he lets himself in.

“Hey, Charles-”

He stops in his tracks as he takes in the scene. Charlie and some guy are sitting on the floor as Charlie is very animatedly ranting about something or another and the guy is just sitting there, softly but excitedly smiling at her. Upon second glance, the guy is hot. He’s wearing a shirt that hugs his shoulders perfectly and matches his messy black curls. The guy also has a straight nose and full lips. When he looks up at Dean, he’s struck by just how blue his eyes are. Blue enough to drown in. Shut up, brain.

Their impromptu staring contest is interrupted by Charlie springing up from her spot on the floor and practically yanking him all the way inside the room. “Dean,” she says, “this is Castiel. We have English together and he mentioned he plays DnD, so I invited him over to see if we could coerce you and Sam into getting a game started.” He raises a quizzical brow and her responding look says “just go with it.”

“Uh, hey, man,” he says, transferring the nearly forgotten bag of popcorn under his left arm, reaching the other out for the guy to shake.

“Hello, Dean.” And damn, if he hadn't thought this guy was hot before, he definitely thinks so now. His voice is whiskey smooth yet still has a gargling gravel quality to it. His handshake is strong, too. And just as he realizes that fact, he also recognizes that he’s held this guy's hand for a beat too long and was staring again.

He clears his throat and extracts his hand, trying to control the flush he’s feeling. Judging by the small smirk on this Castiel guy’s face, he’s failed miserably.

Turning back to Charlie, resolutely ignoring the self satisfied smile on her smug little face, he extracts the popcorn from under his arm and offers it to her with a small bow. “M’lady,” he recites.

“Why thank you, handmaiden,” she says liltingly, and pats him on the head.

“Anything for you, my queen,” he says as he straightens.

He throws a glance back over at the guy, who is doing a comically adorable squint-tilt of confusion. He sniggers a little to himself. Where did Charlie find this guy? “So, Cas,” he starts, “are you a sweet or salty kind of guy?”

The squint deepens until the whole look smoothes out. “Well, I prefer sweet to salty snacks, if that’s what you’re asking. Although I do believe that opinion is almost entirely based off of my older brother sharing his sugar addiction with me.” His face turned contemplative and almost yearning.

“Well, that’s good since that half and half crap she has me pick up is more 70-30 on carmel to cheese. Now it works out,” he grins, “you two can split the 70 and I’ll get the 30 all to myself.”

“That’s… agreeable.”

His smile widens much more than the comment earned, but he can’t help it. He’s swooning and the man only said two words. “Great, I’ll get Sammy on the phone. Charles, why don’t you and Cas set up the game?”

Sam picks up on the third ring, predictably still awake and not trying to ignore his big brother. “Hey, Dean. How did your first day go?”

“Ah, it was alright, Sammy. Met some people, found some classes, nothing real eventful until now.”

“Until now? What does that mean?” He sounds equal parts concerned and cautious.

“Nothing bad, you can relax. Charlie found herself a new bestie, and we were just wonderin’ if your dungeon master skills could be brought out for a quick game.”

There’s a large sigh on the other end of the phone before he inevitably relents. “Fine. Put me on speaker, I’ll go get my notes.”

“Yes, Sammy!” he shouts excitedly “This is why I love you.” He puts his phone on speaker and flashes a thumbs up at the other two in the room who had looked up at his outburst.

“There’s gotta be more reasons than that, jerk,” Sam replies petulantly.

“Why don’t you come over here and find out, bitch,” he throws back.

There's grumbling and shuffling on the phone, and Dean grins triumphantly, even though the comeback didn't make much sense. “Ok,” Sam pauses, “am I on speaker?”

“Yeah. Hi, Sam!” comes Charlie’s reply.

“Hi, Char. And, uh, hi, Charlie’s new bestie?”

“Hello, Sam. My name is Castiel. It is good to speak with you.” Dean could listen to Castiel read an organic chemistry textbook and never get bored.

“Hello, Castiel. It’s nice to meet a fellow nerd,” Sam jokes.

Cas laughs and if Dean likes his voice, he loves his laugh. He could bottle it up and get drunk on it each night. God, when did he turn into such a sap?

They stay on the phone with Sam through a two hour adventure that he found lying in his notes. Afterwards, it’s pretty late, but they stick around and chat for a bit. They find out some random things about Cas, like, he’s 20 (just a year younger than Dean), his favorite animal is a bee (”But that’s not an animal, Cas, It’s an insect.” “And insects are a type of animal, Dean.”), he has one older brother, and apparently is in a band.

“No way, dude! That’s so cool! What do you play?” Charlie practically bounces off of her perch on the edge of her bed in excitement.

“Well, I play guitar, but I also sing, sometimes.” He shrugs, “We’re very flexible with who takes the lead, though. It usually comes down to who wrote the song and what they want to do with it.” He then smiles shyly, “Then again, most of the songs are mine as well, with more than a few written by my friend, Meg.”

Charlie nearly chokes on her own spit. “Wait, Meg, as in Meg Masters?”

The squint-tilt is back. “Yes. Megara Masters. Do you know her?”

Charlie scoffs, “Know her? No. Know of her? Hell yes. What kind of lesbian would I be if I didn't know the hottest gay in school?”

“Hey,” Dean protests, “the hottest gay is obviously that Aaron guy.”

She reached over and gently laid her hand on his cheek, “Oh, sweetie,” she said pleasantly, “you keep telling yourself that.” She pats his cheek lightly before she withdraws her hand. The whole exchange leaves Cas more than a little confused.

The topics ebb and flow however it wants, and soon they’re debating the merits of each Hogwarts house.

“I don’t care what either of you buffoons have to say, I gotta back my girl Harmionie,” Charlie yells.

“We’re not talking about characters, Char, We’re talking about the house itself!” Dean yells back.

“But if we were talking about characters,” Cas chimes, “That would give Hufflepuff a point because of Sedric.”

“Oh, yea?” Charlie snaps. “And where’s Sedric now, Cas? That's right, he’s dead,”

Dea narrows his eyes, “That was a low blow, Char.” No one disrespects Sedric and gets away with it.

Cas is about to speak, presumably to come to Dean’s aid, when his phone chimes. “Oh dear,” he says.

“What is it, Cas?” Dean asks as nonchalantly as he can, but if the look Charlie shot at him is anything to go by, it didn't work very well.

He laughs breathily at his phone and begins tapping away, speaking distractedly as he goes. “It looks like it’s much later than I thought, and Gabriel seems to have been trying to contact me for quite some time now.” He bites his lip thoughtfully before he starts typing again. Dean tries not to let his gaze snag on the gesture.

“If you gotta go, man, that’s cool,” Dean relents.

“Yeah,” Charlie chimes, “we should all probably get some sleep, anyways.”

“Yes I think I might do just that,” Cas answers. Just then his phone starts buzzing in his hand. “I have to take this, but it was lovely meeting both of you, and I hope we can possibly do this again sometime?”

“Of course, dude,” Charlie answers and goes in for a hug. Cas is a bit awkward, but he’s smiling, so it can’t be too bad. “We nerds gotta stick together!” she declares.

Dean sticks his hand out for Cas to shake. It’s firm and strong and lasts a little bit longer than a normal handshake, but Dean’s probably just imagining that. He also probably imagined when Cas’ eyes seemed to flick down to his lips. He had to have imagined it. No way would this guy be interested in a sack like Dean.

Cas seems to come back to himself abruptly when his forgotten phone starts buzzing again. He answers swiftly with a sort of fond and annoyed look that belongs to most younger brothers. “Gabriel, ya kak raz sobiralsya pozvonit'. Chto vam nuzhno?” He casually shoots them a wave, and closes the door on his way out.

Dean and Charlie are left staring after him in shock. Was that Russian?

#spn #dean winchester #destiel #castiel #sam winchester #supernatural #writers on tumblr #my fic #I don’t have a beta yet so if you’ve gotten this far and have thoughts don’t be shy

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writeonthrough · 4 months ago

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Namy Nuggets: A fanfic collection of interconnected one-shots of Amy and Nathan scenes from CBC's Heartland.

Nugget #1: Birch Tree Meeting Place

Amy slows Shadow down as she turns him from the spanning Heartland fields into a cluster of birch trees. The sound of the nearby brook babbling along calms her after she raced Shadow to arrive on time. She follows the curve of the brook further into the woodland until the water spreads into a small pond. As she dismounts, she spots the blanket laid out on mossy grass and the cowboy standing waiting for her.

“Hey,” she greets Nathan with a slight smile. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Aw,” he reaches for her. She enters his encircling arms. They kiss briefly. “You’re not late. I was early.”

Amy chuckles. “I’m pretty sure I was late. But you’re kind.”

“I try,” He releases her waist, slides his hand down her arm, and guides her to the blanket. He sits comfortably and Amy finds a seat on the blanket between his legs. She rests against his chest while his arms return to their place around her.

They sit for a minute, cuddling in silence, letting the sounds of the babbling brook and the two horses grazing fill the air.

“This is nice,” Amy confesses. “Heartland is so busy. So many people in the house. It nice to get a breather.”

“Too many people?” Nathan questions. “You’re so close with your big family and you’re such a natural with people. It seems like you enjoy being around people.”

“Oh, no,” she turns in his arms to face him. Though her expression is serious, Nathan catches her lighthearted tone. “More than once I’ve been accused of preferring horses to people.”

Nathan smiles into her neck. “Really?”

“Like often,” she emphasizes. “It’s people’s go-to insult about me.”

Nathan chuckles, squeezing her playfully and rocking her from side to side. “Their go-to insult?”

“Yes!” Amy exclaims. “You’d think people would stop after a while.”

“I wouldn’t take that as an insult.” Nathan shrugs. “I prefer horses to people.”

“Hmm, maybe that’s what I like about you,” Amy teases. “I couldn’t figure it out before—” Nathan teases her back with one more squeeze. She sits up in response, pulling away to look at him. “But now it’s clear. That must be the one thing we have in common.”

“The one thing?” He asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t know anything else we have in common,” Amy continues to interplay between her serious and lighthearted tones. “It couldn’t be the ranching—your business is cattle and mine is horses. Those are totally different. It couldn’t be our social lives—You just have Molly to follow you around while I am constantly surrounded by people. So, obviously, I couldn’t possibly enjoy the quiet. Our families are in direct competition with each other and probably would not be happy if they found us here together.” Nathan’s smile fades at her last comment, but she continues, “I mean, all this time we’ve been hanging out, I had no idea what I liked about you.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” Nathan turns serious. He searches her gaze. She notices the vulnerability in his eyes. “Hanging out?”

Amy takes a deep breath and grows somber in his arms. She ducks his gaze by leaning back against his chest. Nathan adjusts his position around her, but only finds comfort again when she speaks. “Hanging out is what we started off doing in our open adjoining fields. Now that we’ve found this new beautiful spot hidden in the middle of these birch trees, I don’t know what I’d say we’re doing.”

“Hmm,” Nathan withholds any further reply. He chooses instead to trace her arm up and down with his fingers and bury his chin in the curve of her neck.

“Whatever we’re doing, it’s important to me.” Amy nuzzles against him. “You’ve made me feel things I haven’t felt in years.” She brings a palm to his cheek and turns him to her. “I’m in this, Nathan.”

He matches her intensity and sincerity as he promises her, “Me too.” He strokes her face with his thumb, bringing her closer. “To all of it.”

Before Amy can respond, Nathan leans down to capture her lips. She meets his kiss with enthusiasm, raising her fingers to the nape of neck and into his hair to pull him closer. His hand lowers from her cheek and wraps around the small of her back. Their kiss deepens and their surroundings disappear. The sounds of babbling brook, the crickets hidden in grass, and the horses’ tails whipping the flies away all fade away as they embrace.

Nathan pulls back first. Amy gives him a kiss on the cheek before returning to rest against his chest. His hand returns to her cheek as she gives him a small smile.

He hesitates before speaking. “As much as I love it, here, with you,” his arm lowers to her shoulder. She searches his face, anticipating his point. “We can’t hide out here forever.”

“I thought you wanted to keep things between us,” Amy responds thoughtfully.

“I do,” he assures her. “I do. I just want to be sure on we’re on the same page before someone somehow figures it out.”

“Okay. That’s fair,” She reflects for a moment. “I think we’re on the same page here. I mean we just said we’re in this—together, right?”

“Yeah,” He strokes her arm in reassurance. “We are.”

“Okay, so?” She turns back to him, waiting for him to explain further. When he doesn’t, she offers. “Things don’t have to change, Nathan.” Amy reassures him. “We can still meet here.”

“Amy,” he says softly. “We can’t keep meeting here every day and then pretending we barely know each other around our families.”

“Okay,” Amy catches the slight edge to his words. “And would you like that to change? Because,” she keeps a neutrality to her voice, hoping to sound curious rather than accusatory, “Last time we talked about it, you didn’t.”

“It was a mutual decision,” Nathan corrects her.

“Okay,” Amy nods in his reply. “And now it’s not?”

“No. Yes.” He detangles this bodies and throws his arms in air. “I don’t know.” He plants his hands behind him and leans back. “I don’t know how much longer we can keep hiding this. And I don’t know how we’re going to start to being seen together—”

“Oh, there’s no starting.” Amy interrupts, “Once one person in my family knows, everyone is going to know—”

“Yeah,” Nathan nods. “Kind of my point here.”

“Okay…” Amy repeats herself again, still trying to figure out what he wanted. “So…do you want to start telling people?”

“No,” he tries to speak seriously. “I don’t want to tell people. What I want is for people to know we’re together without having to explain or defend anything to anyone.”

“Ah. Very admirable goal,” Amy smiles, repositioning herself across from him. “Good luck with that.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “That’s what I thought.”

“There’s probably a middle ground,” Amy offers, hesitating slightly. “Where we don’t have to be as private about it and we don’t say anything either.” She notices him perk up at the idea. “But people are going to start asking questions sooner or later.”

“So, we ease into it,” He leans forward. “I kind of like that.”

“There’s no guarantee it’ll work, through,” she warns. “One person could catch something right away and the inquires could come on as an onslaught.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a nod. “They could.”

For a moment, they sit in silence, letting the magnitude of the change in their relationship and the change in their decisions about it sit between them.

Amy scoots closer to him. She extends her leg out so her foot nudges his leg in reassurance. “As long as we know we’ll get through it together, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Together,” he leans forward for a kiss. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Good,” Amy settles it.

“So…” Nathan imagines being around her whole family this coming weekend. “What does that mean for the cattle drive tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Amy starts seriously. She crosses her legs on the blanket, sitting up straighter. “I’m not going on the cattle drive.”

“What?” He retreats in surprise. “Why? Is it Lyndy?”

“No, no. Lyndy is coming with me,” Amy points across the field. “I’m doing a horse clinic. I’ll be gone most of the day.”

“Oh,” Nathan quiets in reflection. “I thought you’d be there tomorrow. I was looking forward to it.”

“You’ll just have to tolerate my dad and grandpa without me,” Amy smiles, “Sorry.”

“You’re leaving me to the wolves, huh?”

She chuckles. “Lou will be there. It shouldn’t be that bad.”

“It just…” he searches for something to say. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“It’ll be fine,” she promises. She uncrosses her legs, “Speaking of tomorrow, I actually have to go prep some things,” she stands and brushes off. “I wish I could stay…”

“No, no,” Nathan stands after her, “I should go too.” When she steps off the blanket, he tugs it up and rolls it together.

Amy starts to mount Shadow, but then turns back to him, her long hair flipping around her. “Umm…” she reaches for him and he steps into her arms. “Thanks for the people break.”

He smiles, “Anytime.” He leans in for a kiss and she meets him a final time, stroking his cheek as she does so. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” she promises. She looks at him once more before turning and mounting Shadow, riding off, out of their birch tree-covered hideaway.

#heartland #namy #amy x nathan #amy fleming #nathan price #namy nuggets #i wrote this series over the summer #i hope someone enjoys it #if you do-feel free to reach out and fangirl with me #namy made me so happy this summer #i hope they make someone else happy too

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