#i'm mildly mortified now and will go into hiding

[galedekarios]

you mentioned a few days ago about how Eilistraee's connection to Mystra is part of what bonded Alton and Gale initially, can we hear more about that? sorry i'm just a huge Eilistraee fan and love your ocs so much so my ears perk up whenever they're mentioned at the same time

i apologise in advance because this got away from me!

i already had something written up from a while ago, but your message gave me the motivation to polish and finish it.

thank you. 🖤

"May I enter, my friend?"

Gale’s only answer is a ragged breath coming from the far side of the ruin. The small space is only illuminated by a single candle by the entrace, the dim light not enough to banish the darkness reigning inside entirely – at least not for his poor human eyes.

"...You may.” 

Gale steps inside the crumbling ruin Altonaufein had made his sanctuary right from the moment they had made camp a tenday ago, the stone walls a protection as much as at least an illusion of privacy, "I'm going to approach, Altonaufein. I have something for you."

Through squinted eyes, Gale is barely able to make out the shape of the drow: Sitting on the ground, back to the wall, knees half drawn up, both of his arms loosely resting on them. His short-cropped hair a stark contrast even in the low light.

It's dishevelled, tufts of white sticking up at odd angles, reminding Gale very much of his dear Tara – of when he was young and, to tease her, had brushed back her fur the wrong way. She’d complained, of course, though more for show, and unlike Tara, Altonaufein has twin scimitars resting close to his side. Gale has seen their deadly dance firsthand. 

The search for the Githyanki crèche had not gone well. They had found Zorru, yes, but what had followed had been a tense moment between his two companions. 

Lae’zel and Altonaufein – their relationship between the two was strained at the best of times – of which there aren’t many lately, Gale finds himself thinking ruefully – yet when Lae’zel had commanded that poor terrified tiefling to bow, lower and lower, to humiliate himself before her, the drow’s eyes had glowed like freshly spilled blood, scarred hand tightening on the hilt of his blade, Drowic harsh on his tongue. Gale had interfered before the situation could truly escalate, but the moment had stayed with him on their track back to camp all the same. As it had with Altonaufein, evidently.

So close now, he catches the red glint of Altonaufein’s eyes again, muted now, but still there. The flickering candlelight casts sharp angles on the drow’s face. Many fainter at heart would turn heel at the sight, run screaming for a mob, for pitchforks and pyres, but Gale finds himself not so easily cowed. 

He’s a wizard of Waterdeep after all and has dealt with far worse than a taciturn drow. 

“I took the liberty of preparing you a cup,” Gale holds up a warm steaming mug, its strong herbal scent gentled by spices and honey, “Peppermint and balsam with a dash of sweetness. It calms more than the discomfort of our current surroundings.” 

Red eyes flick from Gale to the mug then to Gale's face again. It doesn’t take someone particularly insightful to spot the distrust in them.

"Why do you keep doing this?" The drow’s raspy voice is low and rough, as if a hand had wrapped itself around his throat and squeezed too tight. Yet it was no hand, Gale knows. Its loneliness, isolation, its claws sunk deep. Altonaufein had held himself apart from the group since the beginning. And who knows of his experiences before all this, too. 

"Because you are in need of a friendly hand," Gale’s tone is so matter-of-fact, as if he was speaking a simple truth, obvious to anyone who would care to see it. As if he wasn’t talking to a drow, ruby-eyed with Lolth’s touch. A hint of a smile twitches his lips as he remembers the drow’s own friendly hand pulling him for the unstable portal, saving his life, grip strong and sure.

"Do I?" Altonaufein lets his head fall back towards what's left of the ruin's stone wall.

Refusing to let himself be discouraged, Gale still holds the mug, waiting for Altonaufein to take it. 

"Does the thought not bring you some peace, my friend? Having an ally in this journey that we have so unexpectedly found ourselves on?" Gale asks, brown eyes patient, free of judgement. He wishes to understand, but at times he feels like navigating conversations with Altonaufein is like navigating the waters of the Sea of Swords. In a rowboat. On a starless night. 

He doesn’t blame the drow for it. He’s heard hushed whispers at the Promenade, a few tales at the Yawning Portal, from a moondancer here and there, caught too deep in their cups, caught even deeper in their memories. 

"Peace?" Altonaufein's mouth thins, lips pressed together, gazing at the night sky. There is a pause and Gale almost thinks the drow will leave it at that before he continues, "It might as well be up there, with the moon and the stars. I'll never have peace." A breathy sound follows, one that Gale realises is a laugh, bitter as nightshade.

Gale frowns, brows drawing down. The thought doesn’t sit right with him.

Never knowing peace? No one deserves that, he thinks, his own hand unconsciously reaching up to lay over his chest, where, under the threadbare fabric of his tunic, the deepest of the bruised purple lines of his magical scar remain well-hidden.

Banishing the shadow that had crept through his mind like the sun rising over clear waters, a poem comes to him, a second nature, its words familiar, “Speak with me. Speak of the broken past, named and not. Speak of the uneasy peace we share. Speak with me, through the night, the night air, the breathing particles of other lives. Too much to carry around the heart. Speak free.” 

At the confused look in Altonaufein’s red eyes, Gale cannot help but smile. It seems a different strategy will have to be employed. Luckily, he has many at his disposal.

Ah well, it's no trouble at all.

Casting a minor illusion, a gentle moon appears between them, almost translucent; a faint purple glow illuminating their faces in the half-dark.

“Let me propose something to you,” voice slow and measured, Gale’s eyes hold the drow’s gaze, “You told me you look to the moon. What if I tell you about what I know of your goddess while you drink the tea? It'll keep you warm and chase away your worries – for a spell, of course. I promise, no magic in it, not even a whisper of the Weave.” With a chuckle, he adds, “Save perhaps for the magic of Mother Nature herself, I suppose.”

Where at first the drow had startled at the unexpected motions, hands reaching for the weapons at his feet, seemingly innately recognising the arcane power behind them, his shoulders lose their tension when he sees the illusion of the moon. 

Altonaufein's weary gaze lifts from the illusion hovering over Gale’s palm to search his face. They are the eyes of someone who is unused to promises given and kept, but he seems to find what he was looking for, hand deceptively sure when he takes the mug Gale is offering.

He was right. Gale knew there were the first fragile seeds of trust here, between the two of them, he was sure of it, and, by Mystra, he’s glad he had been right. He had had little cause for gladness in years.

Settling against the rough stonewall, too, only a arm’s width away from Altonaufein, Gale moves his hand in front of both of them. 

He’d startled the drow just a moment ago and he refuses to make the same mistake twice, “Let me show you something – or someone, rather. The moon you look to, the goddess that has guided you, is none other than the Dark Maiden, Lady Silverhair.”

The moon in front of them changes into a new form, one of a female drow, dancing, bare, save for the silver hair falling in long waves around her body like a long silver veil, a sword in her hand, a smile on her handsome face.

“When Corellon's wife, known then as Araushnee, tried to kill him, he forced her, and all dark elves, into exile. They were all expelled from his haven, Arvandor, with the exception of his daughter,” Gale cannot help the dramatic pause he makes, a storyteller before a grand reveal, “Eilistraee.”

There’s an undeniable spark in Altonaufein’s tired eyes as he leans forward ever so slightly, mug held tight in his hand. Gale catches the motion instantly for what it is: The drow is engrossed in the story he weaves.

“The Dark Maiden, compassionate, asked him to banish her, too, so convinced she was that the dark elves would need guidance to travel the surface and to fight this evil that would inevitably take form again, known later as Lolth.“ 

Eilistraee’s illusion is joined by another figure. A woman.

“Eilistraee became a friend of Mystra, the goddess of Magic and the Weave.”

With the mention of her name, Gale feels the by now familiar combination of sadness and melancholy, love and pain, twist his heart. Not allowing himself to linger, the wound still so fresh in his mind, he pushes on.

“She is and embodies the Weave itself. I used to see it completely, all around us, but now… Well, perhaps that is best saved for another time. Another story.”

With a flick of the wrist the illusion is gone, only leaving behind rolling waves of purple and blue.  

“This is the Weave, connecting us all, connecting everything through magic. During the Time of Troubles, the Gods walked among us. Eilistraee appeared to mortals, too. If my memory does not fail me, she appeared in Waterdeep, in a location that later came to be known as the Dark Maiden's Leap, a site of pilgrimage sacred to her. The goddess ventured there to rescue a group of drow refugees and lead them to safety. In honour of her deed, a temple was founded, the Promenade, safe in Waterdeep itself.”

As he tells his story, Gale shifts – the hard stone wall bothers his back, yes, but the story draws him in as much as it does Altonaufein – his shoulder almost touching the drow’s. 

“Now, that's something I can speak about first-hand: I visited it myself. The Promenade of the Dark Maiden is a sacred temple of Eilistraee, located in the Undermountain. It’s there that her clergy stops the horrors of the Underdark from reaching the city while, at the same time, helping all those in need. Slaves, escapees, lost souls.”

Gale steals a glance at Altonaufein out of the corner of his eye, “Admirable, really.”

Clearing his throat, he continues, “Eilistraee fought many battles and, in one of those battles against her mother, she was killed. Yet soon, she returned. After the Second Sundering, she was seen again in Waterdeep. Three years ago, we witnessed the Dark Dancer, near the walls of the city. In that year, Waterdeep welcomed an influx of moondancers.”

Over his outstretched palm, a figure appears once more, with silver hair, dancing under the moon, brighter than before. 

“It's said that the Dark Maiden has helped Mystra in containing and repairing the Weave for many years. You see, their friendship is very deep. They help each other, they share the Weave.”

With a flick of the wrist, the illusion is gone again and Gale tries to chase the wistfulness away that had risen up in him so sharply, almost stealing his words. 

Altonaufein's eyes are wide as he turns to look at Gale. There's wonder in them and longing and... hope?

That hope, that spark he sees, makes Gale smile again, soft and small and private, “The Dark Maiden and Mystra revel in freedom and in mysteries, in the little chaotic marvels that magic brings, in nurturing beauty, in embracing the happiness that living in this world, in beautiful Faerûn, inspires.”

The drow, who had been mustering him so intently before, drops his gaze to the floor in what Gale can only assume is a force of habit. It's clear to Gale that his words touch something inside Altonaufein so he decides to simply press ahead, “Now you know why I keep doing this. How can I see a follower of the Dark Maiden in need and not offer him a friendly hand? I want to honour our ladies' friendship, Altonaufein. Life is all about humble miracles."

Silence follows, but Gale cannot find it in himself to regret his words. He nearly makes to stand as only the steady rush of the waterfall sounds around them – then, quietly, "Thank you... Gale."

Words rough with emotion that have not been wrest back under control, still, it's the first time the drow has called Gale by his name. 

Not rivvil.

Not faern.

Not even a cautious abbil. 

Simply ‘Gale’ – and Gale's smile widens further with the realisation. 

"Don't mention it. I hope that my little story brought some comfort to you.” 

"It has," Altonaufein’s answer is curt, but there’s a gratefulness in those red eyes Gale can see as clear as day. Scarred hand reaching out, the very tips of Altonaufein's fingers hovering just over Gale's heart, drawing away before they can truly make contact. 

"You are... kind,” the drow’s words are halting, as if they taste odd on his tongue.

Gale doesn't move away, only glad that the drow is willing to break his walls – at least for today. He stands, rubbing his back, almost comically, exaggerating in hopes of winning a smile from the drow, "My, this wilderness takes some getting used to, I do so long for a proper bed with at least a dozen down feather pillows..." 

When he sneaks another glance at his companion, Gale sees that he has won this battle, too.

"I suppose I need to prepare dinner, otherwise we’ll have to suffer Karlach’s cooking. If you are in the mood, please approach the group tonight,” with that, Gale casts a final illusion before he turns to leave: The Dark Maiden dancing under the stars, Mystra at her side. 

“It will last a few moments, my friend.”

Altonaufein's eyes linger on Gale’s back a bit longer than perhaps necessary before focusing on the illusion the wizard had crafted, and his heart feels oddly light with it.

On a night when the moon shines as brightly as this, the unspoken thoughts of even the most discreet heart might be seen.

—Izumi Shikibu, “On a Night—”, trans. by Jane Hirshfield with Mariko Aratani in The Ink Dark Moon: Love Poems by Ono No Komachi & Izumi Shikibu, Women of the Ancient Court of Japan

[pseudowho]

1st of December

No-Nut November is over-- but Nanami Kento won't let you get away with it that easily.

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November had been torture for you and Kento alike. Though you had been the one to suggest No-Nut November, it was Kento who had given it the real staying power. You had vastly overestimated your ability to rile him, and underestimated his ability to deny himself.

As November wore on, and you became more and more outrageous in your flirtations, Kento remained, as ever, stoic and patient, treating you with the calm, loving affection you would expect of a gentleman. You were in turns perplexed and incensed, and fully planning to refuse him on December 1st. You considered booking in overtime, just to be extra outlandish.

Kento was no idiot. Who had made your bed? You. Who would lie in it? You, though not with the added warmth of a naked companion. It didn't take long for Kento to realise that you genuinely thought yourself more patient than him, which was sweet, and foolish. He was, he thought on the morning of December the 1st, as he licked his thumb and folded over the page of his newspaper, nothing if not a vindictive gentleman.

You walked out of your shared bedroom, padding completely naked to the bathroom. Kento didn't even flinch. You came out of the bathroom, dripping wet from your bath, still completely naked. Kento tutted and mopped up your wet footprints. You came to the kitchen in your nicest underwear, a set which, coincidentally, Kento had chosen for you, and set to leaning over the counter, bottom wiggling, seemingly waiting for the kettle to boil.

Kento cleared his throat mildly and approached you from behind. You smirked...until he placed a chaste kiss to your temple, and rumbled against your ear. "I'm off to work," he said, standing as you spun to face him, aghast, "I've booked us a table tonight. Be ready for seven?"

You gaped at him, and he dipped his head, eyebrows raised lightly, eyes unreadable behind green glass. "Is that...alright darling?" he inquired, hands rubbing your upper arms softly, a picture of genuine concern. You eked out a small, "mhm", and Kento smiled at you, kissing you again on the forehead with an exaggerated "mwah", and headed towards the door.

"Don't do anything fun without me, now," he called, and the door clicked shut, to his satisfaction, to baffled silence. You stood, stunned, and a horrible realisation came over you; you had genuinely tried to manipulate Nanami Kento, and it had got you absolutely nowhere, apart from straight into the palm of his hands. Sinking to your haunches in your lovely underwear, you buried your face in your hands, absolutely mortified.

What was the point of this wildly stupid game? No-Nut November? He's going to extend this into Don't Do-It December, I know he is, you thought to yourself, agonised. Truth be told, you were absolutely desperate. You had wanted to crawl into Kento's lap on the sofa, toss his newspaper aside, and ride him until he cried for mercy. He had made no effort to hide himself from you, his wonderful body still absolutely available for you to touch, if you so chose, but had treated your body with all the gentlemanly grace and dignity afforded to a Victorian maiden. It had driven you mad with lust.

You stewed, all day. You couldn't believe this ridiculous man was going to take you out for dinner, when you should have been dinner. You seethed and sulked through the contents of your wardrobe, begrudgingly planning your outfit for the evening, considering wearing a bin bag because god knows he's not going to touch me anyway.

Kento chuckled to himself the whole drive to work. He hadn't had this much fun in a long time. Swirling his coffee cup and taking a hearty swig as he paused at traffic lights, he grew hard in his trousers at the thought that he knew exactly how this evening was going to pan out.

If anybody had tried to ask Kento to stay late that day, he'd have asked them to jump off a bridge. As such, he arrived home promptly, telling you that you looked lovely (you did), and that he couldn't wait for dinner (he couldn't), and that we should get going soon. You remained tightly genial to him, to his amusement; after all, who could be cross at their fiancé booking a lovely candlelit meal?

Kento was the picture of a well-mannered date. He offered his arm as you walked together to the taxi. He opened your door for you. He had already pre-paid. The restaurant was exclusive, how long has he been planning this? The table already had a bottle of bubbly, crisp and sweating in an ice bucket.

You could barely speak to the man. You were swinging wildly between indignant fury, deep embarrassment, and unquenchable thirst. You had absolutely no idea which persona to lay on the table between you, and Kento knew it. You both knew it. The unspoken topic of sex was now taboo, and Kento remained patient, imploring you to take him to task for his refusal to be anything other than a gentleman.

Kento was sweet, attentive. He asked you about your day, and cared about the answer. He looked at you with adoring eyes, drawing envious glances from other women around the room. Your fingers plaited together, his thumb stroking your palm softly, and as he leaned in towards you through soft candlelight, your stomach swooped, your desperation growing by the second.

"Do you not want to-- I mean, did you not want to--" you blurted out, your blush rushing through you in a flood of heat as Kento eyed you sideways over his wine glass, thin eyebrows raised, eyes narrowed and gently inquisitive.

"Want to...want to...what?" he teased. Oh, this is delicious, he delighted to himself as your lip curled into an indignant, comedically downturned frown.

"Cut the crap, Kento!" you hissed, leaning forwards to him, "It's been a month since we've had sex. Aren't you...desperate?" you finished weakly. Kento coughed mildly, dabbing his lips with a napkin as your plates were taken away by a furiously blushing waiter.

"Well, darling, it takes two to tango. I'd never force you to sleep with me if you don't want to." His amber eyes flicked coolly upwards at you, over the rim of his wineglass, "Do you want to?"

You sighed, resigned, defeated, "Of course I want to--"

"Then beg."

You gaped at Kento again. A mortified flush spread up your cheeks, and you sat opposite Kento, knees pressed tightly together, swallowing hard.

"You don't...you're not going to make me--"

"Make you what? Beg?" Kento chuckled, a glassy rumbling sound into his wine, "Oh, I absolutely am," he assured you, swirling the glass in his hand, his eyes dark with desire now. Beneath the table, his foot tapped rapid little taps on the floor, and his trousers felt uncomfortably tight. He stared you down, hungry for you to beg for him.

You swallowed thickly. Heat pooled between your legs and your neck prickled. Biting your lip, eyes stinging with embarrassed tears, you leaned across the table, desperately tangling your fingers with Kento's.

"I need you," you whispered, hushed and agitated, "It's been too long. I was stupid. I'm sorry. So just...please, Kento, take me home and--and--"

Kento hummed again, finishing his wine, allowing you to play with his fingers, but glancing out across the restaurant, seemingly disinterested, "I'm not convinced," he intoned, "that you really mean it." Kento raised a hand to usher over your flustered, blushing waiter, and made quick work of paying the bill.

"I do," you pressed, pulling his hand towards you. You took his palm and pressed it against your cheek so Kento could feel the heat of it. Kento maintained a cool facade, feeling you swallow, tears in your eyes, and imagined you'd look the same gagging around his cock. He brushed his thumb slowly across your lip, before pressing it into your mouth, swiping it over your tongue.

"Our driver should be outside by now," he mused, and you blinked back furious tears, your begging getting you nowhere with your stubborn fiancé. Feeling self-conscious and hyper aware of every movement as you followed Kento to the door, you faltered as the restaurant door swung closed behind you. Kento had already strode ahead, and held open the door of a large private car.

You stepped in, sitting down on warm leather seats, as Kento shut the door. The windows were tinted, you noticed, as Kento spoke in low tones to the driver up front, who nodded as Kento pushed a crisp few folded up notes into his hand. Moments later, Kento stepped into the car to sit beside you, and the car set off driving.

The car ride was an agonising ten minutes. You had no idea where you were going, but eventually, the car pulled to a halt in a quiet street, and the driver pulled the handbrake, and stepped out, slamming the door behind him. An awkward silence hung between you and Kento.

His hands folded in his lap, Kento unbuckled his seat belt and turned to you, "Now, where were we?" You blushed again, face feeling permanently scorched now.

"I was...I...was telling you how sorry I am." Kento hummed, thumbs twiddling together as he looked at you, eyes dark and disinterested. You continued, now wet and thrumming inside your underwear, biting your lip before continuing.

"Please can we-- can I--" Kento frowned, annoyed now. You bit the bullet.

"Please just use me, I want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight. I was wrong, and I--" Kento grasped your jaw firmly, yanking you towards him, self-control hanging on a thread.

"-- deserve this?" he finished for you, teeth gritted. Your eyes trembled at him, thrilled and terrified.

"You're damn right you do." Kento slammed his lips to yours, moving across the seats to crush you back into your corner. You moaned into his mouth, lips parting to allow his tongue access, and you whined your disapproval when Kento pulled away.

"Beg," he pressed, "How am I supposed to know what you want when you've acted like a petulant child all month?"

"Kiss me, please, Kento," you keened, grabbing him by the collar.

Something about your desperation, and his having managed to turn the tables, shot straight to Kento's cock, now rigid and pressed uncomfortably down the leg of his trousers against his thigh.

"And?" He urged, desperate to yank your underwear aside, tug your dress up over your arse and fuck you raw, but restraining himself because god knew he deserved better, "What else?"

You babbled now, "I want your fingers in my mouth. I want you to tie me up. I want--" You were cut short as Kento pressed two fingers into your mouth deep enough to make you gag. He yanked you across the seats to straddle his lap, groaning at how your throat clenched around him.

"Do you want my cock in your mouth too? Hmm?" You nodded, sucking his fingers, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

"I want you to tie me up," he mocked, voice pitched and sarcastic as he bucked his hips up against your heat, yanking off his tie, "Like you've had me tied up all month?" Kento twisted your wrists adjacent behind your back, your breasts now pressed out invitingly against your dress as he leaned down to bite one sharply, leaving a little red welt as you squeaked.

"Well, fuck around and find out, my love," Kento huffed at you, hurriedly shoving your dress up your hips, to grasp the sides of your underwear and rip them, letting them drop onto his lap. Pulling the scrap of fabric out from between your bodies, Kento scrunched it up and pressed it to his nose, inhaling deeply, releasing a shaky breath as his head swooped, drunk on the smell of you.

Opening his eyes, intoxicated and hooded, he drank you in; rumpled and messy on his lap, breast marked by his teeth, eyes teary and lips puffy from the assault by his fingers, Kento swore he could never have dreamed of a woman like you begging for him. Crushing your underwear in his hands, he shoved it into your mouth, ignoring your coughs and splutters.

"Tastes good, hmm?" he chuckled, "You know, some nights, I nearly dipped my face between your legs while you were sleeping just to get a taste of you."

Kento hooked his cock, pulsing and aching, out of his trousers, and it fell heavy against the patch of downy hair on his belly. Positioning your pussy directly over it, Kento leaned back in the seat, smouldering at you. Not breaking eye contact, he rocked your hips back and forth, your wet pussy lips parting around the length of his cock as he glided you up and down the underside of it.

Kento's head tipped back with a ragged moan, and you quaked, feeling drunk and dizzy as the length of his cock dragged again and again over your clit. Eager now, you fell against Kento's chest and humped him harder, and faster, pleasure building fast after a month of pointless denial.

Kento's vision swam, hooked on your muffled moans as he tried not to cum embarrassingly fast. Teeth grazing against your neck, he tasted your sweat and perfume, groaning his pleasure as his cockhead repeatedly grazed your clit, the vibration of your tremors thrumming across him until he couldn't tell where you ended and he began.

Feeling your thighs start to give out, Kento rocked your hips for you, thrusting up against you until you fell apart, eyes squeezed shut in agony as you came. Kento yanked your crumpled underwear out of your mouth, nipping at your lower lip as he kissed you deeply.

"Beg," Kento urged again with a growl, holding your hips still until you whimpered, your just-achieved orgasm starting to ebb away, and you whimpered, "please let me cum, I won't do it again, I swear, I just want you inside--" you cut off with a moan as he shoved the underwear back into your mouth, and he pressed your hips hard, feeling the heat of you throb against him now.

Feeling your belly tighten with pleasure and your pussy clench around nothing, you started to move again, this time trying to manipulate Kento's cock into you without the use of your hands. Kento laughed darkly, pressing an incongruously affectionate kiss to the side of your neck.

"What if I just...said no?" Kento teased, laughing harder at your squeak of alarm. Kento would have continued the bitter self-flagellation of not fucking you senseless, but having you bound and begging on his lap was such a sweet boon.

Kento turned you around in his lap so your back was against his chest, legs draped over his, and as he spread his legs, yours spread too. Lifting you, you felt the teasing penetration of just an inch or two of his cock inside you. Your thighs shook as Kento commanded you, voice like crushed velvet against your ear.

"Kneel."

You did as you were told, supporting your weight on your knees, bound hands pawing behind you at Kento's shirt. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around nothing, desperate to feel him in your belly, and you huffed, agonised, breathing in the taste of yourself. With a groan, Kento began to stroke himself, precum now leaking just inside you, his chased pleasure just on the tip of his tongue.

As you started to gently lower yourself onto him, trying to be surreptitious, Kento grabbed the back of your bra strap, twisting it round and using the added tension to lift you back off him, and he was delighted as you wiggled and squirmed around the tip of his cock. Reaching two fingers round you to start drawing lazy circles on your clit, he continued to stroke himself. Colours popped in your vision at the relief of being touched properly for the first time in a month. You melted into his touch.

You knew Kento was struggling to hold back now, feeling his thighs clench under yours, and his cock twitch inside you, but you leaned back against him as his fingers worked between your wet folds, moaning sweetly against his neck. You saw the muscles of his neck jump with restraint, and your clever hands managed to undo a few buttons of his shirt so you could splay a hand across his lower belly, leaning your weight on it.

Kento grunted with the exertion of self-restraint, determined not to give in, but he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his v-line as you pressed your hand against his belly; he loved it when you did that, weak at the knees for him and holding urgently onto his abs for support. His cock twitched with every bound of his racing heart now, and he urged you, half commanding and half begging; "Ride me."

Kento almost shouted with relief as you squeezed your hips down, his hand releasing himself to hold you close to him, tender for you with pleasure now, as you rocked slowly on him, your pussy fitting him like a glove as it glided around him.

"So good-- so good for me," he groaned into you, one hand continuing its steady ministrations on your clit as the other snaked round you to release your breasts, cupping them, lazily flicking over your nipples. Your hips rolled against each other, thrusts in tandem and you mewled as you felt his tip kiss against the spongy spot inside you, the angle of your position exaggerating the pressure.

Kento felt his brain fog over, overwhelmed by the intimacy of holding you close again, and his hips stuttered as he bucked up into you, bouncing you on his cock as you squeaked, unable to grab onto anything for support. Being rammed into as Kento chased his own orgasm now, you leaned your head forwards against the seat, Kento admiring the curve of your arse and the arch of your back as it tensed, your pleasure peaking and toes curling as you sobbed with pleasure, voice still muffled by your underwear.

Kento fell apart, a hook behind his navel dragging down as his balls tensed, filling you with gushes of cum, holding you tightly against him and you shivered, feeling how deeply his seed hit. Both pleasure-wracked and exhausted, you slumped against each other, messy and wet.

Untying you and removing your spoiled underwear from your mouth, Kento pulled out of you, fingering where his cum dropped out of your abused pussy with a groan. You shot him a rueful look over your shoulder, and he smirked, wonky and dazed.

"You've only got yourself to blame," Kento sighed, tucking himself back into his trousers, and pulling your dress over your arse. You clamped your legs together, blushing, trying to hold Kento's cum inside. Sliding you off his lap, Kento leaned forwards to the front of the car, and flicked the indicator to flash the headlights a few times.

"Suppose I'd better tell Ino to head back," he hummed. Your jaw dropped. Kento gave you a shrewd side-eye, not done with embarrassing you yet.

Moments later, Ino slid into the driver's seat, looking back at you and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, "Hey! Did you guys have fun?" You buried your face into the edge of your seat, wanting the leather to swallow you whole. Ino laughed as Kento slapped some more cash into his hand.

"You know what they say, fuck around and find out, right?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Nanami Kento is a deviant mastermind, and nobody can tell me otherwise.

[jennifer-jeong]

can we get a headcanon of the lads boys' (raf, Zayne & Xavier) reaction when MC bought her little sister that resembles a lot to her (MC) I'm dying for some fluffs here where the boys interact with a kid 😂🥰

HI ANON SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG JFDKLA;JFDLSA; THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR ASKK it’s so fluffy and funny heheh I had fun with this one

NOTE that reader’s sister is around 12 years old in this

Fluff + Crack | F!Reader Little Sister?

CONTENT Fluff, crack, shitposting LOL, implied feminine reader

WORD COUNT: 1342

RAFAYEL

Your sister definitely bullies him at first just like you do (LMAO) and he will pout and turn away in annoyance and she’ll do the same but then you’ll look away for 2 seconds and they’ll be best friends.

At first when you invite Rafayel over, your sister is probably a bit scared, hiding behind you holding onto you. He probably comments on how she’s kind of your “mini-me” and your sister hits him with the “I’m not mini!” and he’ll reply “well you look pretty mini to me.” Then she’ll kick him in the shins (not too hard just a warning kick). He’ll gasp and then dramatically cross his arms, turning away while pouting, she’ll do the same. Of course you’re just giggling at the antics not helping because you know they’ll get along quickly.

“Okay okay you two, go play some games while I finish making dinner for everyone,” you mediate before heading off to the kitchen. So the two stand there for a second before side eyeing each other and scrambling to the TV to see who is the champion at Mario Kart because that is extremely important information. Of course you can hear their screaming and laughter from the kitchen: “WHY DID YOU THROW THAT BANANA AT ME” you hear Rafayel scream, “IT’S YOUR FAULT FOR BEING THERE” you hear your sister reply.

Rafayel definitely yells as if he’s actually driving a car so if he crashes he’ll actually act like he crashed and it makes your sister laugh until her cheeks hurt.

Later on you find out Rafayel placed 6th out of 12 and your sister smoked him for 1st place LMAOOO. They tell you some of the funny moments and it’s all filled with laughter and a bit of banter but they’re practically best friends at this point. You even join them for a few games after dinner and it’s hilarious.

From then on, there isn’t a single moment where your sister isn’t braiding his hair/putting it in pigtails, putting clips on his bangs, play fighting with him, or just having fun with him.

ZAYNE

Basically your sister is dead terrified of him when she first sees him but since Zayne is surprisingly good with all patients, kids included, he’s actually very good with your sister as well.

When you bring your sister to your shared apartment with Zayne, her eyes are literally wide open with fear upon seeing him and when you tell her to come inside, she shakes her head. So you tell her “aw are you scared of him?? He’s harmless, look he’ll even do a dance.” So Zayne looks at you, still deadpan, looks back at your sister, and shimmy’s his arms back and forth a bit. That man is STIFF doing this move but at least he tried.

Her fear hasn’t quite gone away at this point but now it’s just confused fear?? But she agrees to come inside. You walk off to go make dinner and tell them to start a puzzle together and you’ll all finish it after dinner, comforting your sister and reassuring her that Zayne is very sweet. She sits down in the living room with him and they dump the pieces out.

Zayne pauses, staring at the puzzle pieces before asking your sister “what do you call a dancing puzzle?” and she is mildly mortified before actually thinking about the question. She responds “I don’t know, what is it called?” and he, fully deadpan, replies “a jiggy-saw.” Something about the way this stoic man said “jiggy” was just absolutely hilarious despite the awful pun and your sister lets out a snort and Zayne gives a short chuckle. He suggests they begin on the puzzle and they start chatting to get to know each other, occasionally stopping to make fun of some of the funny looking puzzle pieces.

When you call them over for dinner, Zayne holds out his hand for a high five and your sister excitedly obliges before “racing” him to the table, to which he of course loses. They then continue their yapping into dinner as your sister opens up more.

At the end of dinner Zayne has to offer your sister a classic doctor’s office candy and her face lights up, accepting it and running off. You all work on the puzzle and chat, your sister occasionally going over to you and Zayne to tie your hair into matching ponytails that make you look like unicorns with her pink scrunchies.

When it came time for your sister to leave however, she definitely clings onto Zayne’s leg telling him to not let them take her away. But Zayne of course knows how to handle this and says “hey, there will always be next time, and if you promise to be good, you can have two candies, one now, and one the next time we hangout, okay? I’ll even hold on to this scrunchie to remember,” and she agrees to the deal. Needless to say, they were besties now.

XAVIER

Your sister is probably very confused and kind of intimidated when she meets him and Xavier has no clue what to do but he’ll do something cool with his sword or light evol and she’ll never stop being amazed.

When you call Xavier to your apartment for dinner and to meet your sister, he did not expect you to have a tiny doppelganger. What YOU expected even less was for him to literally shake her hand and say “nice to meet you.” Like he fully pulled out the businessman handshake to greet her but she followed along and also hit him with the “nice to meet you too.” Then he walks in as if nothing happened while you and your sister just stand there, watching him walk away before looking at each other and giggling.

You tell them you’re going to finish making dinner and for them to watch a short movie or an episode of a show which they wait. Your sister, being your sister, of course suggests that they watch the new episode of Demon Slayer. Xavier is caught up because you suggested it to him and he agrees, saying he finds the fighting really cool. They watch a bit until the first fight scene and Xavier is like “yoooo check this out” and pulls out his wooden sword LMAO.

He does the same slashing move the character in the scene does and he even uses his light evol to make it look like he has the same powers. He looks back and your sister’s jaw is on the actual floor while he just stands there like the standing person emoji, not sure what to do next.

2 seconds later and he’s teaching her how to hold the sword properly and how to do some basic movements. Her eyes are full of sparkles and she finds him so freaking cool !!! He’s literally a demon slayer character!!!

Xavier of course sees another fight scene and copies a few of the movements. However, he’s too busy watching the screen to see what’s in front of him… Your vase of flowers now sits on the floor. Xavier and your sister literally get on the ground praising the heavens for the vase being plastic and not glass before laughing. Quickly they hear a “WHAT DID YOU KNOCK OVER” from the kitchen and they simultaneously yell “NOTHING” while both hitting the standing person emoji pose.

You put them in timeout together as a joke (you left them there for like 10 seconds and then you all laughed).

During dinner they caught you up on the episode and after eating you finished it together. You all talk about how good it was until you joke that you’ve become a demon yourself and they need to slay you !!! So Xavier and your sister tackle you while you all giggle.

From that day on, your sister never stops talking about how cool her bestie Xavier is and how she wants to train her “demon slaying skills” with him again.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[drownedinlavender]

Helloooo, so I'm writing a long kyman fic. It's gonna be a slow burn multi-chapter one. I got like a good 1/3 of it down with like a skeleton of events mapped out. Since I haven't been active in any fandom or like written fanfic since I was a teen, I wanted to post an excerpt to kinda test the waters a bit haha I'm kinda shy about sharing stuff but was greatly inspired by a lot of people's work.

Anyway, the premise is Cartman impulsively taking the fall on something and being admitted to inpatient cause of it. This excerpt is when he facetimes the gang to tell them about it. Stan and Kenny are at school during lunch, Kyle's at the hospital (has to do with what Cartman took the blame for), and Eric's at home about to leave.

I'd greatly appreciate any criticism or input! Thank u for ur time 💜💖 ^^)/

"Dude, a psych ward? That sounds pretty serious," Stan looks mildly concerned.

"It is serious, Stan. That's why Kyle's gonna owe me big time when I get back," Eric smuggly declares, "Like sucking my balls big big time."

Kenny sneakers at the brunette still obsessing over a bet they made years ago when they were just kids.

"Man, you gotta lay off the balls thing, Cartman. That's hella gay," Stan drily informs while munching on a fry.

"Hey! It's not gay! It's about humiliation and having power over an individual," Eric offendedly denies, choosing to die on that hill.

Kyle, who has been absolutely seething in the background, finally bursts, "Fuck you, Cartman! I didn't ask you to cover for me, you did that all on your own!"

Eric scoffs, "Okay, fine, Kahl, would you prefer me going to PC principal and telling him I take it all back. That he should take you off the team like he wanted? Is that what you want, Kahl?"

Kyle tenses his jaw muscles as he grinds his teeth. Of course that's not what he wants but is Cartman holding one over his head any better? His eyes flicker to the side as he contemplates for a brief moment. Stan continues eating, staring at his screen waiting for his best friend to speak as if he's watching an enthralling reality tv show. Once Kenny's giggling fit finally subsides, he lays his head on one outstretched arm and sneaks a French fry from whoever's lunch tray is right across from him.

"Fine," Kyle bitterly concedes with a sigh, "but I'm not helping you do anything illegal like murder or whatever. And I'm definitely not sucking your balls," he points at Cartman through the screen.

"Oh…" a small voice utters in surprise across the room from Kyle. The redhead looks up at a shocked nurse half way through the door. "I-I'll come back in a second to check your vitals," she embarrassedly scurries out of the room.

Kyle's mortified face soon matches his hair. "God, damn it, Cartman!"

Kenny practically dies of laughter, not even bothering to hold his phone up right anymore.

"Dude," Stan snorts before cracking up as well.

Kyle hides his face with one hand, trying with every fiber of his being to maintain any ounce of composure he can muster before combusting from rage.

Eric's amused smile warps into a shit eating grin, he absolutely could not be any more delighted by the current turn of events. He obnoxiously clears his throat before continuing, "Very well, I'll leave a legally binding contract in your room before departing, Kahl. Now Kenny," he seamlessly changes the topic.

Kenny straightens himself out the best he can. "Uh-huh?" He responds through tears.

"Wait a second, fatass, do NOT break into my room!" Kyle protests.

Eric purposely ignores his rival, knowing it'll anger him further. "Kenny, my mom says you can use your spare key to clear out my fridge whenever. She's gonna stay up in Denver with some cousin until I'm out. We don't want the food rotting up and stinking up the place so do it sooner rather than later, got it?"

"Seriously, dude?!" Kenny immediately straightens himself out in elated surprise. Woohoo!" He cheers. He knows their fridge is always packed so he and his little sister are definitely set for bit.

"Knock yourself out, dude, just don't let anything rot in there. Seriously, I'll kick your ass if I come back and my house reeks like spoiled ass."

"You got it, bro," Kenny assures with a thumbs up.

"Don't ignore me, asshole!" Kyle's demands only serve to further Cartman's amusement.

"Welp, gotta go pack up some essentials. Don't know how long I'll have to be admitted … but it's all worth it for my dear friend Kahl's sake," Eric fakes sincerity. With a hand over his heart, he winks at Kyle.

"Oh, Fuck off," Kyle rolls his eyes.

"Well, good luck, dude. Don't blow up the place trying to escape," Stan waves goodbye from his screen.

"Guys, wanna say bye to Cartman? He's gonna go do some time at a loony bin," Kenny asks, reversing his camera to show the rest of their lunch table.

"We heard. You guys are super loud," Craig complains before biting his burger.

"Hey! Don't call it a loony bin, asswipe! That's totally insensitive to people with mental health issues. Not cool dude," Cartman condescendingly lectures, doing what he does best, playing the victim.

"Cartman's getting admitted? Dude, that's crazy!" Tweek comments.

"Wait, who's getting what now?" Clyde looks up from his phone, unaware of the conversation going on around him.

"Cartman, dude, he got in trouble again so PC principal's sending him to a psych ward," Tweek rapidly explains.

"Oh," Clyde responds in his usual nasally tone.

"All in order to save Kyle from getting kicked off the team," Cartman adds.

"Don't act like you did it from the kindness of your heart, fatass!" Kyle quickly corrects.

"First it's Cartman, then they'll be coming for the rest of us!" The jittery blond panics.

Craig pats his boyfriend's shoulder. "No they won't, honey, we don't cause the town to blow up every other month like they do."

"Hey!" Kyle indignantly exclaims.

"We haven't been directly responsible for the town's destruction for like," Stan counts the time in his head, "at least a year now!" He defends himself and his friends, receiving a middle finger from an unimpressed Craig.

"L-l-later, Eric, don't dr-dro-dr-dro-drop the soap," Jimmy jokes before offering up his signature smile.

"Jim, that's for jail," Tolkien corrects.

"Aw, we'll miss you, Eric! Don't take too long in the psych ward!" Butters gleefully shouts.

Kyle rolls his eyes, feeling himself getting more and more irritated by the situation at hand. "Oh, for Pete's sake, it's not like he's dying, you guys." The longer these farewells are dragging on, the more he can feel a twinge of guilt spreading throughout his subconscious and twisting up his guts.

"Poopsikins, mommy can't find Mr. Kitty's carrier, do you remember where we left it?" Liane can be heard calling from the background.

"Just a second, meeem!" Eric hollers off camera before getting back in frame and sticking out his tongue with a peace sign, "Later, losers ~ " he sings-songs and hangs up.

"You know …. For someone being sent off to an insane asylum, he seems really unbothered by it," Tolkien points out.

Kyle's eyes flicker down for just a second before choosing to quickly dismiss further analyzing Cartman's reaction to being sent away. "Well, yeah, it's Cartman. Do you really expect him to react normally about anything?"

"That's true," Tolkien immediately agrees, chalking it up to Cartman just being Cartman.

For a brief moment, Kyle remembers the time he was admitted when the town wouldn't believe him about Mr. Hankey but before he can even decide on entertaining that thought, Stan speaks.

"Wow … so he's really leaving, huh?" Stan says more than asks, looking a bit absent minded.

"I guess so," Kenny pensively looks down at the lunch table, head resting on crossed arms. He turns to Stan and forlornly admits, "dude … I'm actually feeling kinda bummed out."

Kyle bites the inside of his cheek. The reality of their current predicament further sinking in.

"Aw, Ken," Stan frowns and pats Kenny's shoulder.

"It's okay, Ken," Butters comforts, patting Kenny's back, "he said so himself, he probably won't be there for long."

"Isn't this a good thing though? Things are going to be a lot more peaceful while he's gone," Tolkien suggests.

"If Cartman gets admitted for the rest of the school year, I'll be sooooo happy," Craig chants in a monotone.

A sniffle directs everyone's focus towards Clyde.

"Clyde, you okay, buddy?" Craig puts down his lunch to fully focus on his friend's concerns.

"We *sniff* were starting to *sniff* get along more *sniff* this year," he powers through a closing throat.

Kyle bites his cheek even harder. Cartman was certainly a lot tamer as of late. Things were finally getting comfortable between the two of them, too.

"He was being a lot c-coo-c-coo-cooler this y-year," Jimmy admits.

The nurse knocks before entering Kyle's room this time. "I'm going to take your vitals again, okay?" She smiles.

"Yeah, sure," Kyle replies before addressing his friends, "I gotta go guys. Stan, can you come pick up my keys and move my car before my parents get back? I have a minor concussion so I'm under observation for a bit."

"Yeah, dude, totally," Stan confirms.

"Later," Kenny mumbles, waving with one hand, his face fully immersed in his crossed arms.

"Alright, thanks, see you guys later," Kyle says his goodbyes, queuing the nurse to begin taking his blood pressure.

Kyle barely moves, too busy contemplating Eric's departure. First, Stan moves and now Cartman's going to be gone for God knows how long? He bitterly sighs.

[animezinglife]

I’m thirty and still have privacy issues. I still always look over my shoulder out of habit. I only got comfortable enough to keep a journal in my mid-twenties. I hide things just in case my mom decides she’s going to visit.

I would always catch her going through my school folder. I caught her going through my childhood journal where she read it aloud and mortified me. I caught her on more than one occasion when I was still young and stupid enough to believe moms could keep their word telling her friends or sisters something I’d told her in confidence.

Needless to say, not only am I mildly paranoid, but she does not have access to any information whatsoever about my life other than where I work.

I was pretty universally considered a good kid. I was quiet, minded my own business, and didn’t get into any trouble ever or at all. I did my homework and chores always without anyone having to ask.

And in return, I was given no space, no privacy, and no room to grow at all. I had no freedom. I was gaslit and told the fact that I wanted privacy and to be left alone was an "only child thing."

Don't even get me started on how the sense of entitlement towards others' space and private possessions is very much a sibling thing, but I'm apparently "not allowed" to bring that up.

Over time, I simply got blunt and became extremely good at putting up walls.

Most people I knew who grew up like that ended up being sneaky towards their parents or have even grown to be so screwed up they’re in and out of jail a lot. Invasion of privacy only creates more secrecy and better liars.

I still remember one mom bragging about how she took her son’s door off his room because he kept slamming it when they’d fight.

Clearly it did him a lot of good given he’s now in prison.

Talk about irony. There's one door that won't get taken off as punishment.

Parents should not be reading your journals

Parents should not be searching through your trash 

Parents should not be snooping on your private social media messages 

Parents should not be taking your bedroom door off 

Parents should not be invading your privacy 

[sandwichfox]

AHH LISTEN! You write such beautiful headcannons, I feel like I'm literally there. 6x the joy of getting married and having gorgeous competent spouses to help with our gorgeous grumpy children! Thank you so much for this gift! Would you be down to write for the main 6 a lil oblivious, mutual pining and what causes them/the MC to finally snap? (And if you wanna get racy, what happens next? ;) )

Listen, listen, you came for my entire heart with this ask, the compliments definitely punched me in the face but the mutual pining was what KO’d me, my forking jam. (Also, we are always happy to get racy here in la mía casa)

Asra

★ He already really, really loves you, so it just kind of evolves naturally for him. There’s no internal conflict on his part, because of course he would fall for you, it’s only right. 

★ However, he does want to be absolutely sure you’re ready before taking any next steps, he doesn’t want to set you back in your recovery.

★ Except for Asra, that translates into never initiating anything, ever.

★ He hugs you and touches your shoulder and all, but that’s just Asra with anybody he trusts. He does stare at you an awful lot though. If he catches you staring, this fluffy idiot will think nothing of it.

★ Physical contact is already so natural between the two of you. That one day you just.. kiss him? Oops.

☆(NSFW)☆

★ “wait was that-?” “…oh! Sorry I-“ “No it’s- can I kiss you again?” The answer is yes, he kisses you with purpose this time, soft and warm. Then immediately dissolves into giggles. He kisses you again, still giggling. “I love you” he says, voice stuck between a laugh and a sigh (and a kiss).

★ It was meant to be a brief kiss, but now he can’t seem to stop. (He’s lost count of how many times he’s kissed you now), but his hands -they’re shaking- skim tentatively up your arm, into your hair, hold you by the nape of your neck. And when you sigh he can’t help but brush a finger against your collarbone, then kiss that same spot. 

★ He feels drunk (he probably knocks against the shop’s counter, almost drops a jar of some herb or another), but now he’s got you pressed against it and he’s not laughing anymore, his brow is furrowed with want. He pants your name and you’re both gone.

Nadia

♠ Doesn’t want to come on too strong but she is starting to suspect she fell for an entire dumbass.

♠︎ Maybe you just don’t want her? It’s entirely possible, but then what about all the times you seem to be flirting with her? 

♠︎ She’s tried everything, lavishing you with gifts, turning on the charm, even showing you off at parties and to dinner guests. 

♠ Problem is, she’s the countess, and why would she be interested in you? That’s ridiculous. All this must be because she has all this money, and you’re a special guest, and she’s just amazing like that.

♠︎ But one day you can’t take it anymore, and ask her outright what her intentions are. (Literally “are you flirting with me?” “I have been for a year now, thank you for noticing”)

♤(NSFW)♤

♠︎ Oh boy, she has to make up for lost time, now doesn’t she? She asks you (up front this time) if you’d like to come up to her room at the palace. “Don’t worry, nothing nefarious” her gaze says otherwise. Goodness, she’ll eat you alive. 

♠︎ You get to her chambers and, unexpectedly, she asks you to try something on for her. A necklace, she says, that has been sent to her. She’s not sure about it yet, and would like to see it on you before deciding if she likes it. You’re a bit taken aback, but agree.

♠︎ She’s wicked, dragging the cold metal chain slowly across the skin of your shoulders, breathing against your neck as she fastens the clasp, she takes you (legs shaking) to stand in front of the mirror. She places a kiss against a soft spot on your neck and then presses her teeth against it, her hand travels up to your throat. “Darling, you look ravishing” but you barely hear her, your ears are ringing. 

Julian

♦︎ Oh boy.

♦︎ This dude right here invented pining. He thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous the moment he sees you, but then you two get to talk and it’s over, my man is gone.

♦︎ Alternates between the smoothest man alive and a literal mess. Also, he wants to date you so bad, but he thinks he’ll be bad for you. Can’t decide between being selfish and a self-sacrificing idiot.

♦︎ You like him so much, but he keeps sending these mixed messages, you wonder if it’s better to just maybe just steal longing glances at him for the rest of your life.

♦︎ One day, when he’s feeling particularly angsty, you ask him what’s wrong and he tells you in many, many scrambled words that he likes you. You had thought you had mistaken his usual Julian-ness for flirting, but this new revelation changes everything.

♢(NSFW)♢

♦︎ “You like me” you breathe. He looks up miserably from his pint and nods. You already had a hand on his shoulder from where you were comforting him, but the surprise makes you tighten your hold, dig your nails in. And he- did he-? You snap your gaze to his and yep, he’s red to the very tips of his ears, lip caught between his teeth. “Oh?” You smirk. He lets out another tiny, miserable whine. 

♦︎ You can’t remember ever feeling this giddy, your heart is pounding and your hands feel clumsy, it’s nearly impossible to get the buttons of his coat to come undone. And you’re hiding in an alley, goodness. Julian’s lips still taste of salty bitters, and he’s clutching at you like he wants to climb inside you.

♦︎ “You’re drunk” you say “on you” he retorts, though muffled, he didn’t even miss a beat. You bite his lip playfully in response and he, mmmelts (seriously, you have to catch him a little). “Okay” you say, hot all over, “okay” and you kiss him some more. 

Muriel 

♣︎ Hates it. Hates that he’s pining for you so hard. He tries the whole avoiding you thing and everything but it doesn’t work.

♣︎ It never even crosses his mind that you might want him back. Sometimes he catches you looking at him and his immediate reaction is to be absolutely mortified (has he had something on his face this whole time?!)

♣︎ Doesn’t know what to do with himself, basically. He wants to talk to you but he only goes so far as to following you around at a distance. He wants to touch you but doesn’t want to ask for contact. He brushes against you once in passing and immediately goes beet red. 

♣︎ Thing is, you’re so good. So good, soft, like he doesn’t deserve. You treat him like he’s… Sometimes you bring by some of your cooking, or a shiny rock that you thought was pretty, or you take him out for some smoked eel (and keep him company while he eats it, sat in the shadows). You constantly check that he’s alright “is it okay if I put my hand on your shoulder?” “Are you alright?” “Can I touch you?” “Can I help you?” “Can I hug you?”…

♣︎ “Can I kiss you?” You whisper, he can only nod.

♧(NSFW)♧

♣ Muriel is so sensitive to touch, starved for it, though he’d never admit it. So when you start kissing him there’s an immediate churning heat in his belly. He’s lightheaded, feels like he’s about to boil over, he doesn’t know where to put his hands. 

♣︎ Somehow you’ve ended up in his lap, though he can’t say exactly when that happened (time is strange, when he’s kissing you), his hands have traveled to your sides and something about having you there, holding you to him, he’s going to go mad.

♣︎ He doesn’t want to ask for more than you’re willing to give him. But you give so easily, each tentative press of his lips is met with wet, purposeful pressure from yours. When his hands first brush your skin you shiver and come closer. He kind of never wants to stop. 

Portia

♥︎ Is a whole mess.

♥︎ Listen, she gets lost in your eyes sometimes, alright? That doesn’t mean she’s in love with you. Or maybe it does, but you don’t have to know that.

♥︎ Maybe you’re an oblivious fool (u are) because that’s the only way that you wouldn’t have noticed her pining. Literally goes ‘eep!’ every time you catch her staring.

♥︎ Portia is the kind of person that talks about their crush all the time, (‘the other day I was with MC and-‘ ‘and then MC said- insert mildly funny thing- and haha- wait- hahaha- they said- hahsghdgsh’) so literally everyone knows she’s crushing but you. 

♥︎ She’s naturally flirty with everyone, but one day she says something that you read as actually flirty, so then you’re like wait, really? And Portia’s all ‘oh! Sdgdhhdj I was just, I didn’t mean- I was just, uhm- KIDDING! Just kidd- unless..’ (anyway spoilers you both like each other and then make out lol)

♡(NSFW)♡

♥︎ She spent so long having a crush on you and daydreaming about being with you and now she can actually have you. She has to hide away with you for a little while ASAP. You notice her acting giddy one day in the gardens and ask her what’s wrong “nothing!” She says immediately, then a pause “actually, do you want to stop by the cottage?” A perfectly innocent question, but she’s gone all red. Oh. 

♥︎ You stop by her cottage. As soon as you’re in through the door she turns up the flirty-ness tenfold (you’re gonna pass out), until she finally takes your hand and walks you backward against a wall. “Wanna make out?” She whispers. You do, actually. She’s surprisingly bitey, and very responsive. 

♥︎ After a few moments her hands start wandering, “you’re so cute” she sighs “beautiful, wow”. She’s letting out these breathy little sighs, pressing closer until there’s no space between you. She has one leg slotted between your own, her back arched to press the length of her against your body, one hand on your back at your waist, the other clutching at her shoulder, and she’s moving in a slow, waving motion, kissing your jaw and lips and ear and scraping teeth against your neck (you’re going to die).

Lucio

▲ Oh he hATES it. (Feelings?! No thanks, yuck). It’s probably the whole ‘feelings make you weak’ mentality he grew up around, because he’s not above indulging in company, if ya know what I mean.

▲ But he doesn’t just want that from you, and it throws him on a loop. He keeps bouncing back and forth between sending for you about the most ridiculous things just to see you, and sending you away in a huff when he realizes that no, bad Lucio.

▲ It can’t be helped though, and soon he’s head over heels. He gets ridiculous, honestly. ‘Subtly’ asking about you and giving you increasingly odd, expensive gifts and trying to get your attention. 

▲ As soon as he gives in and admits to himself that he actually likes you his first thought is to go out and demand that you be with him. But he’s actually nervous, and not exactly sure that you would like that at all. So he starts testing the waters. 

▲You think it’s just Lucio being Lucio but you’ve liked him for some time and it kinda? hurts? when he suddenly starts complimenting you and making jokes about being with you for real, saying it so casually like there’s no way in hell and it hurts. So one day you tell him to stop.

△(NSFW)△

▲ “Wha- huh?” He says, and you’re embarrassed, maybe you shouldn’t have said anything, but Lucio’s already seen your face, and now he knows what’s going on. “Oh, sweetheart” he says in a drawl “I’m being perfectly sincere, I love your pretty face” he takes a step closer “that amazing body” his voice is softer, you blush, he takes another step “your powerful magic” another still “your sharp mind” he’s right in front of you know, reaching out with a clawed finger to tilt your chin up “I’d like to be with you, if you’d let me.”

▲ “I’d like to do so many things to you, magician.” His golden hand trails from your chin to your bottom lip, tugging down before letting go and traveling up your cheek to the side of your head. He’s holding himself up against the wall with his other hand, bracketing you in against him, all in your space. “Perhaps I’ll call you to my room, feed you whine and fruit and sweets, drape you in fine silk” he leans in close to your ear “I’ll keep you to myself all day, kiss every inch of you, maybe keep you all night as well.”

▲ “Lucio” you gasp, he grins devilishly and surges in to kiss you. He kisses you long and hard right there in the hallway, pulling back a few inches just to hover near your lips, you lean into him and he pulls back a little more, teasing. “Please” you pout. “Oh no, beautiful, you’re much too pretty to be begging a man like me for kisses. I should be the one doing the begging, getting on my knees and showering you in gold.” He’s grinning, but he’s glowing red with enthusiasm at the thought. “Kiss me then” you say, pulling him to you, he shivers like he’s weak at the knees and does just that. 

[emersonfreepress]

How would the ROs respond/react to a “Ohh you wanna kiss me so bad!” Mc?

(Idk if yk what that means but it’s basically like a real flirty & playful mc that would throw that line around to the ROs, specifically when the ro is mad at them.)

haha yes I'm familiar. I tend to fall hard for jackasses like this irl 😂

Gabe would be infuriated!!! And extremely doomed. 😂 Sparks and flames, my fave kind of romantic dynamic: the neurotic, orderly person being constantly pestered by someone who revels in pressing every last button. "You wanna kiss me so bad" specifically would get his temper flaring in an instant—but not faster than he'd blush and sputter out a series of ineloquent denials! 😆 I live! 🙌🏾

Kile is like, oh. So you don't want to fight. You want to die. They'd be thoroughly annoyed by this lol

Jack quickly switches to flustered and mortified and stammers "No!" in about a dozen different ways 😅 While the MC basks in his reaction, he groans and hides his face away behind his hands and hair. Poor guy.

Jessie is taken aback and nearly scandalized by such an insinuation lol. She protests and even mildly pouts. Don't change the subject, take her seriously!! (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

Rain's mouth snaps shut and they stare at you with those giant eyes... then whip their head away and cross their arms. Oh, they won't look at you. Nope, not even if you get right in front of them. Now they're walking away in a huff... Whoops?

R throws it right back at you and points out that you clearly want them to kiss you and that's why you're getting them so riled up. And they're not wrong, so take that, MC! lol R is the type to do the same thing, so they're totally onto you

If you do this with Vi you've got to be a glutton for punishment. You are definitely correct and they have a similar reaction to Gabe, but far louder and with no problem verbalizing (and hyperbolizing) their discontent. Smug, arrogant, pain in the ass, insufferable, punk ass, wipe that stupid grin off your face, etc etc 😅 I said in another post verbal masochism is an advantage if romancing them. This would be one of those times 😆

Heidi is caught off guard in a way that is very out of character for her, eyes going wide and words dying on her lips. She recovers pretty quickly but fiddles with her hair and struggles to maintain eye contact as she dismisses your accusation and tries her damnedest to ignore what you said. And tries to ignore how that might not have been the case before you said that, but it certainly is now 😂

Actually managing to get Curt mad enough for this line to work properly is super hard 😆 so if you managed to do it, you'd catch him completely by surprise for once. He'd blush, take a second to process the way in which you're messing with him, then blush harder as he breaks out into laughter. He'd be so genuinely delighted it would bypass his usual Casanova persona! But then of course he admits that he does want to kiss you and gazes at you with that dumb, happy smile of his, issuing a silent challenge to do something about it 😚

[industryhearts]

**TSHOEH SPOILERS**

The Seven Husband's of Evelyn Hugo quotes:

"I look back on it now, and I wonder where I got off, throwing money around so casually, as if the fact that it came easily to me meant I had no responsibility to value it. I find it mildly mortifying now. The caviar, the private planes..."

feeling Great Gatsby for that whole year vibes 👀)

"But the Palace it was. We posed for pictures, knowing they would end up in some tabloid or another. Celia bought us a bottle of Dom Perignon."

👀

Umm, excuse me why!?? Why is that the bottle?? 🤣

:And our decision to have a baby wasn’t really just a two-person conversation. It was a four-person conversation. “Go on,” I said as we made our way to the front of the restaurant. “Say it.” “A baby,” Harry said. “You and me.” “Have you discussed it with John?” I asked. “Not specifically,” he said. “Have you discussed it with Celia?” “No.” “But are you ready?” he said. My career was going to take a hit"

I mean, wow. 👶🏼👀

So we’ll talk to John and Celia.” “Yeah,” Harry said. “I suppose we will.” “And if everyone is on board?” I asked, stopping before we got out to the sidewalk. “We’ll get started,” Harry said, stopping with me. “I know the most obvious solution is adoption,” I said. “But . . .” “You think we should have a biological child“ I do,” I said. “I don’t want anyone trying to claim we adopted because we had something to hide.”

"Celia considered my words and stared at the ceiling. “This is something you want?” Celia asked finally. “Yes,” I told her. “Very badly.” “Is it a problem for you that I have never . . . wanted that?” she asked. “That you don’t want children?” “Yes.” “No, I suppose not.” “Is it a problem for you that I cannot . . . that I cannot give you that?”

That evening, Celia called me after she was home from the ceremony and all the parties. I screamed into the phone. I was so happy for her. “You’ve done it,” I said. “Twice now you’ve done it!” “Can you believe it?” she said. “Two of them.” “You deserve them. The whole world should be giving you an Oscar every day, as far as I’m concerned.” “I wish you were here,” she said petulantly. I could tell she’d been drinking. I would have been drinking, too, if I’d been in her position. But I was irritated that she had to make things so difficult. I wanted to be there. Didn’t she know that? Didn’t she know that I couldn’t be there? And that it killed me? Why did it always have to be about what all of this felt like for her?

Sorry, I'm back on my shit! 😂 This book is so wild.

.

[phosphorus-noodles]

probably not gonna write a full sequel for it so here's some assorted thoughts/events for what i'm thinking (spoilers for the fic + it's pretty long oops):

so the fic ends with our two lovely boys sleeping together right. in the very literal sense (and tbf in a pretty platonic way) but if anyone saw them it would be Bad for them anyway. unfortunately after having a rough night to put it lightly they probably both slept through joel's alarm (if he even had one set) and joel is late to breakfast that next morning so his parents send a servant to go fetch him

they're both startled awake by someone knocking on the door and have like 5 seconds before the door is opened so joel shoves a very confused and disoriented oli under the blankets and covers that side of the bed with as many pillows as he can throw there before someone comes in bc he is a world champ at hiding whatever he was doing right before someone walks in (<- paints pictures of his parents' sworn enemy (his soulmate) a lot and never gets caught once). and his pillow pile is literally the most suspicious thing ever and not his best work but everyone thinks joel is a complete weirdo already so the servant politely doesn't comment on his wacky bed arrangement and tells him he should get downstairs for breakfast soon before leaving

as soon as the servant is gone joel quickly unburies oli and apologizes a bunch and oli's like nah man i get it but gets interrupted by his stomach growling. like a lot. and joel is like "?! when did you last EAT" which oli does not answer (it has been a While since he's taken care of himself in Any sort of way)

so joel is like "well... i gotta get downstairs soon or Else, but i'll grab you some toast or something while i'm down there :(" and oli's like "?! wait you're leaving me?? D:" and gets Super clingy like "please please pleeeease take me with you don't leave me here all by myself i don't wanna be without you again :'((" and is the Saddest wet cat you've ever seen in your entire life. which, given the circumstances, is fair enough. and despite joel thinking it's literally the worst idea in the world finally gives in and says he'll sneak a little mouse!oli downstairs with him in his pocket

fast forward a bit and it's very clear that breakfast in the bean household is. a tense time. pretty stiff and not very fun. joel's parents are like "so... why were you late for breakfast this morning 🤨" and he mumbles some excuse about sleeping in on accident and they tell him he better start working on improving that, etc. it's pretty clear this happens a lot. not completely miserable, but oli curled up and hiding in joel's pocket is listening to this and is like "man. i am sooo glad breakfast with my parents is n- ,,, oh ;-;" and then probably starts quietly mouse-weeping in joel's pocket :(

which joel can hear, but just to make sure his parents can't he tries to muffle it with his hand. which isn't very good for oli obviously and he squeaks out so joel will stop suffocating him and joel's parents are like "?! hey what's that sound 🤨"

luckily(?) a servant walks in just then and does the "whisper in the queen's ear and hand her a letter" thing. the letter being the announcement that the emperor and empress of the valley had died yesterday. and they're like "oh. nice haha. good riddance" (gotta keep it vague on whether or not They did it... yk yk)

and joel is just mortified bc this is a TERRIBLE time for this oli is literally RIGHT THERE and here his parents are acting like it's the most normal/mildly positive (??) thing ever. and oli's muffled distress is only getting worse. so joel grits his teeth and excuses himself (which is probably a Bad Move for him but he needs to be outta there Now) and grabs some fruit or something on his way out

he makes it back to his room and gently pulls a very droopy mouse out of his pocket and starts gushing a million apologies for literally everything that happened down there. and oli shifts back and tries to tell him it's fine it's whatever it's chill but it's so, so clearly not. and it's not really joel's fault, but. literally everything went wrong there

joel does his best to comfort him given the circumstances (bc what do you even say after that </3) and gives him the fruit he took bc poor boy has eaten barely anything in who knows how long. and it's pretty awkward and they don't say much but just being physically close to joel is enough to steady oli quite a bit so that's a start :')

eventually though they both realize that they can't stay like this all day. joel's gonna have to go Do Stuff and oli didn't exactly give anyone a heads up before leaving his kingdom. and oli begs joel to let him stay and promises to be good and hide if anyone tried to come in but he caaan't he has to go hooome and it's sad :(

joel doesn't exactly love the idea of oli flying home by himself though, and since he can't leave to take oli home himself he sends martyn a text like "heyy. btw. your son is at my place. could you come pick him up please he's not doing too great" and martyn isn't even mad or surprised he's just like "yeah that's exactly where i thought he was. i'm omw. thank you joel, you're a real one ;)"

so a bit later martyn shows up at joel's balcony as discreetly as he can (still gotta keep it on the down low that oli was ever there yk) to pick his son up and oli's all sniffly and sad and he doesn't want to go home he doesn't want to face reality there he doesn't want to leave without joel he can't do it alone he just can't. but joel gives him a tight hug and tells him he'll call him as soon as he can and probably would've said that he loves him (in the way best friends say it, not really a good time for any confessions) if martyn wasn't right there (bc he wouldn't want him getting the wrong idea. y'know) but martyn is smiling at them and is looking very appreciative of joel taking care of his poor son in a crisis. then martyn scoops up the sopping wet (literal) cat that is oli and waves goodbye and flies back home

later that day joel calls oli to check in on him and he's not doing the best but he's doing the best that he can. the next few weeks/months are really hard for him too. idk how to write grief super well but given that oli is oli and boy has previously never heard of being depressed in his life the whole experience of grieving his parents is awful for him and there's a lot of pressure for him now bc even if martyn and ren are technically in charge now he's still the prince and it's a lot for him to deal with overall. and joel does his best to support where he can but he also makes sure oli gets a good healer/therapist to work through everything. and it all turns out okay in the end <3

thinking about the aftermath of this fic for my au again...

[lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean]

La Pomme ~ Chapter 10

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 4,500

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About 4 hours later, George stirred awake as she began getting hit in the face with the bright morning sun. She was surprised to find Sam driving, with Dean passed out next to him. Castiel looked like he hadn't moved an inch since she'd closed her eyes and she smiled at his resolve. When she finally shifted, she noticed a large unfamiliar, tan jacket laying across her lap.

Reaching up to lightly touch Sam on the shoulder, gently alerting him to her presence, she whispered, "What time is it?"

"Hey, morning. A little after six. You doing OK? Need to pee?" He teased gently and she smiled.

"I'm alright at the moment, though I wouldn't turn down a chance to stretch my legs." She sat up in her seat, stretching as much as she could without invading Cas' space. Sam watched in the rear view as she crossed her arms above her head and arched her back for a stretch. He caught himself admiring the way the fabric of her shirt lifted up just enough for him to catch a fleeting glimpse of the skin on her waist. There was more bright ink peeking out from the top of her khakis, he noticed. She released the stretch much too soon in his opinion and then leaned over to pick up the jacket that had fallen off of her lap. She held it up questioningly to Sam and he adjusted himself in his seat, clearing his throat.

"Oh, that's, uh-mine." He stuttered, reaching back and taking it from her outstretched hands. "The backseat can get cold."

"Mm," She smiled and nodded appreciatively. "Thanks. How long have you been driving?"

"Just about 3 hours. I could use a stretch myself; I think there's a rest stop ahead a few miles." She nodded lazily, still brushing off the sleep, and looked over at Cas.

"You been keeping a weather eye out, Castiel?" She asked teasingly.

"Yes ma'am. Can never be too careful with these two." As nervous as she made him, he actually liked George. She eagerly included him in conversation and car games, which he wasn't used to. He also enjoyed her attempts to banter with him and he was getting better at deciphering them and even participating.

"Good man." She patted his shoulder appreciatively.

Cas nodded in solidarity, then he raised an eyebrow at her inquisitively. George smiled and raised both her eyebrows in response, waiting for him to speak. Based on his expression, she assumed he wanted to ask her a question. When he didn't speak, she raised her eyebrows more to encourage him. He darted his eyes to Sam; his face dropped quickly.

George followed his gaze to Sam and was startled at the daggers he was staring at Cas. She asked, "What? What's with the eyes?"

When Sam noticed her looking, he dropped his angry face and shrugged, "Nothin'? No eyes." Cas shrugged awkwardly in agreement. George looked between the two of them skeptically. She knew what she saw.

Narrowing her eyes, she demanded, "What?"

"Nothing," Cas stated with an incredibly unconvincing tone. George's head whipped to look at Sam as he rolled his eyes at Cas before he could stop himself.

She was annoyed now, "Seriously, guys-what?! Do I have a zit? Was I drooling in my sleep or-?" Her face fell suddenly and she winced, "Did I say something embarrassing?" She'd had partners mention her sleep talking once or twice and she'd been having a strangely vivid dream about Sam just before the sunshine woke her up. Considering the content, she prayed she hadn't said anything.

At her question, Cas and Sam exchanged a confused look. They both shook their heads as Sam answered, "Nope, no drooling, no talking. And no zits," he ended with a smirk.

George looked relieved for a moment and then frowned, "Then what? Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked Cas and then looked at Sam, "And why are you trying to keep him quiet?"

Sam pulled an innocent face, "I'm not-"

"Save it, dude! I saw you," George laughed at his innocent-little-brother face. "What's goin' on?"

Cas folded, "We were just wonder-"

Sam cut him off with a "No!" so loud that Dean startled awake with a snort.

"The hell?" Dean grumbled. Sam sighed defeatedly. He knew it was too late to stop the inevitable now, but he'd really tried. This was going to be painful.

"I believe your thug brother is threatening Castiel into keeping secrets," George stated annoyedly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Dean responded with a confused, "Huh?"

Castiel explained, defensively, "I was just trying to ask George if she's a 'Deangirl' or a 'Samgirl'."

George's eyes went wide. Large, angry red splotches began to appear on her pale cheeks and a sweat broke out on her brow. Sam gripped the steering wheel tightly, clenching his jaw and looking mortified.

Dean let out a loud, "Ha!" Chuckling, he sat up right and murmured, "Definitely glad I got woken up for this."

"What?" Cas huffed, seeing everyone's reactions. "I know you said we weren't supposed to say anything when she woke up, but you two were having a lively discussion about it earlier and I j-"

George choked on nothing and sputtered, "The two of you were having a lively discussion about wheth-" Dean and Sam both pulled the same innocent expression, though Dean couldn't hide his glee.

Sam cut her off with a stutter, "We weren't-It-it wasn't exactly-there was no-"

Dean shook his head, cutting him off with a matter-of-fact, "We were just trying to explain to Cas more about the reality you came from-with the show and everything? Naturally the subject of the fans came up..."

"They weren't sure which 'girl' designation you fell into. I didn't see what the issue was with just politely asking?"

"It's not a polite question, Cas!" George snapped in humiliation.

"Oh…" He frowned, "why not?"

"Because!" She explained fully.

"There are just some things you don't ask a woman, Cas," Dean offered with a bemused chuckle.

Cas' brows furrowed, looking curiously at George, "Does this question somehow relate to your age or menstrual cycle?"

"Sweet Jesus," George laughed to keep from crying in embarrassment, hiding her face behind her hands. She knew this was how Cas was but she wasn't prepared to experience his naivete in real life. The Kegel comments she could handle but this was beyond.

Sam desperately tried to re-rail the train wreck that was happening, "Cas, what Dean meant to say was, there are some things you shouldn't ask people. Humans, in general. Private things."

"Mortifying things," George groaned from behind her hands.

Cas was still confused, "And asking someone whether they're a 'Samgirl' or a 'Deangirl' is private?"

George dropped her hands and nodded emphatically, "In the context of our current situation, yes!"

"Why?"

"Because!" When he looked at her with a patient expression on his face she realized he'd need more than that. "Because… because…" she looked to Sam and Dean for help but neither one offered any. "Ugh, because it's the same as asking... 'Hey, Cas, if you had to, who would you rather sleep with, Dean or Sam?'"

"Don't answer that," Dean said slowly, with a frown.

"Not so amusing now, is it?" George smirked triumphantly at him.

"Well, I don't sleep but if you're saying I have to, then I guess I'd rather not-sleep with Sam," Castiel determined, after some thought.

"What?!" Came a half offended, half surprised echo from the front.

George's eyes lit up with far too much glee, "Oooooh?"

"Yes, definitely Sam," He nodded, more sure than before. Seeing their expressions - George's filled with joy, Dean's slightly hurt, and Sam pleasantly shocked - he explained, "Dean is an angry sleeper. The risk of getting shot is high. Sleeping-or not-with Sam would be far safer."

"Oooh, darn!" George laughed disappointedly at Cas' unexpected-yet-entirely-expected literal interpretation. The brothers looked relieved and also mildly amused.

Cas was lost, "I fail to understand what this has to do with-"

Dean 'ughed' deeply before explaining, "It's about sex, Cas." Sam cringed, eyes focused on the road. George groaned painfully and turtled her head inside her shirt as much as possible. "You essentially asked George which one of us she'd rather have sex with. Which-while incredibly entertaining for me-is a personal question," he finished uncharacteristically kindly.

George peeked her eyes out, surprised to see the sincere look on Dean's face, "Hmm, that actually wasn't as bad as I thou-"

Sam cut her off with a quiet, knowing, "Wait for it."

Just as George made eye contact with Dean he added, "I mean, it's none of our business how much sex George wants to have with Sam."

"And there it is," Sam finished knowingly with a frustrated eye roll.

"Ass!" George shrieked and punched Dean in the shoulder before retreating back into her shirt. Dean laughed heartily, flinching a bit.

"So, anyway," Sam began helpfully, trying to change the subject. "I'm kinda curious how much the show-the one of us, in-in your reality-how much it matches up with our real lives?"

George slowly came out of her shirt, blinking quickly, and thought for a moment, "Uhm, well I don't really know. I mean I've watched the show but like I said before, I wasn't the biggest fan in terms of… for lack of a better term, 'the lore' of it. I know bits and pieces here and there, but I'm by no means an expert."

"But you don't have the books?" Dean followed up curiously.

"The books are in the show, but I'm pretty sure they aren't published in… my 'real life'-who knows what the hell that is anymore. If I understand correctly, each book was supposed to equate to one episode in a season of the TV show. The published books stopped when Dean went to hell right?" Dean grumbled a yes and George continued, "OK, for the TV show that's the end of season three."

"How many seasons are there?" Dean asked curiously.

"Uhh, I think fifteen, so far?" Had it been canceled? She couldn't remember.

"Fifteen?! People have been watching our lives for-" Dean cut off and took a breath. "I can't decide if I'm annoyed that people are watching our boring ass lives for that long or that our lives are dramatic enough to be a television show for that long."

"What season did we come to your reality?" Sam wondered. Dean 'ughed' loudly at the memory.

With an amused shake of her head, she answered, "Season six, I think? Such a great episode! That whole season was pretty solid, actually. A great combination of funny yet emotionally gripping. I think that was also Cas and Meg kissing-" She looked at Cas earnestly and interjected into her own rambling, "That was awesome-and the posse magnet episode-which, btw, of course, people made shirts of that." For once in this conversation Dean looked happy, giving Sam a pleased expression, which garnered an eyeroll.

"If I'm not mistaken that was also the season with soul-" she was about to say "soulless Sam" but her heart twinged and she realized she couldn't be so flippant with the fandom created monikers anymore. These were no longer just characters, they were, inexplicably, very real people whom she now knew.

And cared about, she heard a tiny voice add.

"Er, it covered Sam's time after hell…without a soul," She grimaced a bit in sympathy, not knowing how best to fill in the blanks.

Sam's face went from startled to shame on a small delay. Further confirmation that she knew of the million awful things he'd done, he grimaced. If she knew everything it could not bode well. The thought filled him with a surprising amount of disappointment.

She'd seen the look on his face and quickly added with a hopeful smile, "And it also covered the time after you got your soul back! Which included the French Mistake!"

"The French Mistake?" Castiel asked.

"The one when they came to my reality!" George grinned and Dean made a yuck face. "You guys had so much great chemistry that episode. Making fun of their names and the alpacas, it was golden. Can't say enough about how hilarious that episode was. I was surprised by the dialogue about their tension on set because that's actually always been rumored to be true. It seems weird that they'd talk about it if it was true, though, so who knows what to think?" The men in the car certainly didn't but they nodded politely and let her ramble. "So, either it's all just stupid rumors and they find it funny or-HOLD ON!" Suddenly her face fell and she looked at Sam in shock upon realizing, "Did you sleep with Jared's wife?"

Three pairs of eyes were boring into Sam and he shrunk down in his seat, looking stunned and stuttering, "Er-I-Uh-You-you know abou-"

"You had sex with fake Ruby?!" Dean was beyond indignant.

"Who's Jared?" Cas asked.

Sam looked mortified and George instantly felt bad about starting them down this path. She hadn't meant to embarrass him, she just failed to think before she spoke sometimes. Especially after realizations like that. Obviously, this whole "Supernatural is real" had more ramifications than she'd realized.

Making a mental note to maybe ask him about it later, she quickly changed the subject, "They were filming the French Mistake when we lost Misha." Frowning sadly, she patted Castiel's knee, "I want you to know I was devastated about that. Misha was my favorite Castiel."

Castiel looked confused, glancing at Sam and Dean, "Thank you?" She smiled and squeezed his knee gently before letting go. "So, in your reality, I'm dead?" Castiel asked with a contemplative look.

"Well…" She paused, trying to think of how to explain it so he would understand, "you're not-er Castiel is not. But the actor who played the vessel you're currently inhabiting is."

"Jimmy Novak?" Castiel confirmed and George nodded a bit.

"That sounds right," She agreed; she'd only seen the episode once so she couldn't be sure. "When Misha died tragically in that horrible stabbing 'accident,' the writers were just going to write Castiel out of the show but the fandom fired upon them with the white hot rage of a Deastiel shipper left unsatisfied," Her eyes were wide with emphasis; Sam snickered, Dean huffed and Castiel was oblivious, "so they quickly brought you back in a new vessel a couple episodes later." {author's note: yes I prefer 'Deastiel', it makes the most sense for the mashup of both their names IMO and it's my story}

The three men considered the scenario for a minute. Sam seemed unsure, Dean wondered what the new actor looked like, and Cas paused, then nodded, "Well, I suppose that makes sense. If I could find another vessel willing and able to hold me I'd want to still be around to help." George smiled at his loyalty. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed MishaCas. The replacement actor was fine but to her, the chemistry was never the same.

George said absentmindedly, "As far as I can tell-though my knowledge is obviously limited-most of the rest of the story line from the show has been the same here? Castiel's the only major difference I recognize."

After a long, pregnant pause, Dean asked tentatively, "So… exactly, how much do you know about us?"

George squinted a little at him and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well… like, do they show everything?"

George smirked and shook her head, "It's basic cable not HBO. Maybe a handful of shirtless scenes but nothing Game of Thrones graphic. The focus of the show is the supernatural-is you guys, hunting and saving and all that, so not really a lot of romantic, naked stuff. The focus of the fandom, on the other hand? Well that's a very different story," She cracked with a chuckle.

The next nine or so hours of their car ride passed fairly uneventfully as George rambled about the show, asking them questions and comparing notes about their lives. Dean took over driving after a pitstop and as the hours turned into nearly day(s), everyone-including Cas-started getting a little punchy, not to mention ripe. Nice, fun friendly games of I-Spy or the license plate game had dissolved into butt-hurt bickering and the silence that returned to the car for the last two hours had been welcomed by everyone.

Finally, though, George caught a road sign for Reno, Nevada - 30 miles and decided she couldn't take it anymore. She was sore, tired, tired of wearing a bra, in desperate need of a shower-or three, and she didn't know how much longer she could keep silently farting and blaming it on Cas. Luckily for her, he remained his usual indifferent self but Dean certainly seemed to be getting suspicious of the smells emanating from the back. She also made the startling realization that she had no change of clothes with her during one of her earlier daydreams about a long hot bath. Hopefully she'd made enough headway with Dean for him not to be too pissed when she mentioned it.

"Hey, I have a fun new game we could try." George paused to allow the three grumpuses to groan in unison before continuing, "it's called let's stop in a real town-say Reno!-and get some actual food and maybe a hotel room for some actual sleep for the first time in 24 hours! Any takers?" She tried to keep her expectations low. "Dean, I bet Reno has great pie."

"You know what George?" Dean began in a mock angry voice, pausing for dramatic effect. "They have some damn good pie in Reno. Remember that one place just off the 659, Sammy? That pie was orgasmic! What was that place called…"

"Brown Cub Diner?" George offered.

"That's it! How'd you know?"

"I'm from Carson City; I grew up around here. Brown Cub Diner is famous in our area. Have you tried their pancakes? They have a special sweet cream batter and those flapjacks just melt in your mouth." She saw Dean's reaction and could almost taste the hot, bubbly bath water and nice soft warm (flat!) mattress. She pressed on, "I think we're only about 30 minutes from there?"

"Ya know Dean, we have been driving for about 24 hours. Obviously, we need to get to Jack but we're of no use to him if we're sore and exhausted. Wouldn't be such a bad idea to take a break, get some good food, take a shower," he gave an exaggerated, unpleasant smell look in George's direction and she swatted his shoulder, "and recharge before hitting the road for the last stretch?" George could have kissed Sam for the assist, even if he did use it as an excuse to call her funky. Rude.

"Fine," Dean huffed and everyone, well Sam and George, Cas was pretty indifferent, celebrated with high fives. "But we're getting pie-and pancakes-first!"

"Uh, if I could just interject one quick additional favor?" George asked, causing Dean to let out a low exasperated, yet questioning growl. "I literally only have the clothes on my back and seeing as how there also happens to be a Target just off the freeway on Sparks Blvd coming up in 2 miles," she pointed to the excellently timed street sign they were passing, "then perhaps we could make a super quick stop so that I could get a change of clothes or two?" It all came out in one breath and she stopped to catch her next. "Pretty please?"

Dean remained silent as he drove the next two miles and George was starting to feel deflated. But when he pulled off the Sparks Blvd exit, she wrapped her arms around his neck from behind for a thank you hug, causing him to swerve slightly and curse before gently sloughing her off. They arrived at Target and Dean parked toward the back, keeping his baby away from any other riff raff cars. Turning off the engine, he then produced a wallet from his back pocket. He dug out a small stack of $20s and handed it to her.

"We typically like to pay for things, Sticky Fingers." Dean began.

"With all your stolen money?" She asked cheekily, because she just couldn't help herself either. He was the quintessential big brother and it set her little sister mode on 11 every time.

He paused and gave her a squinted stare before continuing, "In and out in 30 minutes; those flapjacks are calling my name!"

She thanked Dean for the cash, promising to pay him back before realizing how impossible that was, and the three boys decided to wait in the car while she ran in.

Heading first for the toiletries for some personal essentials, she then doubled back toward the front where she picked up a generic pair of tennies-comfort and function seemed more important than style in her current situation-and a packet of white socks. Next she grabbed up two half-decent bras and a pack of underwear before crossing over to the racks of outerwear. She'd tried to work out in the car how many items she'd need and to keep things conservative she figured a two-three pair of pants and the same amount of plain shirts would suffice. She'd finally settled on two pairs of dark denim boot cut jeans and one pair of black cotton joggers, along with two fitted, v-neck, long sleeved t-shirts, one in navy, one in maroon, a black sleeveless undershirt, and couldn't help grabbing an oversized pink and black madres plaid button down. She also grabbed a black pull over hoodie with the Friends logo, since she knew that the redwoods could get pretty cold and she was stoked that Friends was still a thing in this reality. Lastly, she grabbed a pair of plain, flowy black PJ pants and a large men's pale blue v-neck tee for sleeping, and made her way toward the register.

As she waited in line with her cart, spacing out about whether or not she grabbed too much or not enough of each clothing item, she caught a glimpse of something familiar out of the corner of her eye. Three lanes away from her a short, chubby woman with mousy, short brown and graying hair, wearing a familiar pale green jacket was also checking out. From behind, the woman looked exactly like George's mother and she felt whiplashed back to her reality.

"Mom?" Her voice came out scratchy and quiet as she involuntarily called out to the woman. Part of her felt compelled to scream out, run over and grab her into a hug, listen happily as her mom comfortingly told George that everything was OK and she'd just been dreaming. But she was frozen in place by shock. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched the woman-her mother! She was sure of it!-finish her transaction and head for the front door. George looked back at her cart and the money in her hand. She debated with herself for half a second before abandoning the shopping cart and bolting after the pale green jacket that had exited the store and disappeared from her sight. She made chase, stopping at the edge of the sidewalk in front of the store and frantically searching the parking lot for the woman.

When George finally spotted her unloading her purchases into a car she didn't recognize, George's stomach dropped. She could now see her face and it was very clear that the lovely middle eastern woman was not her mother. Tears began welling up in George's eyes, her face flushed red from emotion, and she walked over to lean on the building, trying to get a hold of herself.

Her mind was racing and she was trying to catch her breath in her panicked state. She had gotten so swept up in the adventure and insanity of this dreamlike experience that she'd forgotten about her actual life for the past 24 hours. But now that she thought about her old, boring normal life-a life where she wasn't crazy; where she wasn't feeling this constant, strange, unshakable feeling of inaccessible deja vu; where she wasn't carpooling with an angel to go rescue someone from potential death; where she wasn't conversing with Sam and Dean motherfucking Winchester-she wanted to run. All knowledge of how difficult and far-from-perfect her real life had been were forgotten in the moment. She glanced over toward the back of the parking lot where she could still see the Impala parked where she'd left it, then pulled the money out of her pocket, counting through it - $300.

As fate would have it, she spotted a taxi dropping a couple off near the corner of the building and jogged over.

"Are you taking fares?" She bent over to ask the driver as the couple walked away.

"Where you going?"

"Carson City?" George almost hoped the woman would turn her down.

"That's nearly 40 miles away, it's gonna be over $100?" The driver responded, questioningly. George shot one last guilty look back at the Impala before climbing into the back.

"Let's go." She crouched down low in her seat as they exited the parking lot and tried to ignore the intense guilt-nausea building in the pit of her stomach.